HISTORY AND REPOSITORY
OF
PULPIT ELOQUENCE,
(DECEASED DIVINES,)
CONTAINING
THE MASTERPIECES
OF
BOSSUET, BOURDALOUE, MASSILLON, FLECIIHIER, ABBADIE, TAYLOR, BARROW,
HALL. WATSON, M'LAURIN, CHALMERS, EVANS, EDWARDS, DAVIES,
JOHN M. MASON, ETC., ETC.,
WIT H DISCOURSES
FROM
CHRYSOSTOM, BASIL, GREGORY NAZIANZEN, AUGUSTINE, ATHANASIUS, AND OTHERS
AMONG THE "FATHERS," AND FROM WICKLIFFE, LUTHER, CALVIN, MELANCTHON,
gNOX, LATIMER, ETC., OF THE "REFORMERS."'
ALSO,
SIXTY OTHER CELEBRATED SERMONS,
FIXRO AS MANY EMINENT DIVINES IN THE GREEK AND LATIN, ENGLISH, GERMAN, IRISI, FRENCH,
SCOTTISH, AMERICAN, AND WELSH CHURCHES; A LARGE NUMBER OF WHICH IIAVE NOW, FOR
THE FIRST TIME, BEEN TRANSLATED. -THE WHOLE ARRANGED IN THEIR
PROPER ORDER, AND ACCOMPANIED WITH
HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF PREACHING
IN THE DIFFERENT COUNTRIES REPRESENTED, AND
BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES
OF THE SEVERAL PREACHERS AND THEIR DISCOURSEo,
BY
HENRY C. TFISH, D.D.
AUTHOR OF PREMIUM ESSAY, " PRIMITIVE PIETY REVIVED."
TWO VOLUMES IN ONE
VOL I.
NEW YORK:
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS.




cntered, aecoraing to Act of Congress, in the year 18W
BY M. W. DODD,
rn the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New trl




INTRODUCTION.
Ir is believed that nothing like this work, either in design ot
anmngement, has ever been issued from the press. Its nearest
renemblance is found in a German work, entitled Geschichte der
Christlichen Homiletik, by C. G. H. Lentz, in two volumes, 1839.
Xt is a history of Christian homiletics-in their principles and
pmptice-in all ages. The plan is, to give sketches of prominent
meni, criticisms upon their preaching, and brief specimens of their
manner of discourse. In this way there are introduced about three
hmndred pulpit orators. The work of Lentz, however, which has;nwr been translated, differs from this work, not only in the characW  of the selections, and in many other particulars, but especially
i- this, that it contains only brief specimens, or extracts, from the
Ferai men represented; while in that here submitted, the rule
hs- been to give an entire discourse-thus affording the fairest view
of the preachers, as well as furnishing a large number of sermons
of the highest order.
The design of the work may be stated in few words. It is, First,
to render available, to the lovers of sacred things, the great masterpitces of pulpit eloquence, and the best discourses of all countries
and times-hitherto either locked up in foreign languages, or procured with much difficulty and expense: Secondly, to furnish a
history ofpreaching in all parts of the world where the Christian
religion has prevailed, from its introduction into each respective
country down to the present time, with a view of the pulpit as it
now stands: Thirdly, to bring again upon the stage the great and
gk. good of other days; keeping alive and promoting their acquaintauce, and allowing them to speak to the living;-which is done by
giving sketches of their lives, and by reproducing their choicest
dicourses.
The arrangement will readily be perceived. The work has both
a local and chronological order; the latter is made to determine the
former-that is, the country comes first in order which furnishes at




iv                     INTRODUCTION,
the earliest date, some prominent preacher whose discourse is introduced. Hence, England takes precedence of Germany and other
countries, because WVickliffe-the morning-star of the Reformation
-appears first.  For a similar reason, the French precedes the
Scottish pulpit, etc.* And so of the preachers in each particular
country: they are introduced, one after another, according as they
arose and took their respective positions.
The want of such a work has long been felt, especially by those
preparing for the sacred ministry, and those who have but recently
assumed its responsibilities. Referred as are the students in our
Seminaries, by their teachers in Sacred Rhetoric, to the marked
sermons of the great pulpit orators, it is often no slight disappointment to find that such discourses are not within their reach.
Indeed, it is to such a personal regret on the part of the author of
this work, while pursuing his theological studies, that the germ
whence these volumes have sprung, is to be attributed.  A purpose,
early formed, to devote his leisure moments to the preparation of
such a work, has been strengthened by occasional expressions as to
its great desirableness. Mention may be made of an article in the
" Princeton Review," of 1854, by Rev. J. TW. Alexander, D.D.,
where the utility of such an undertaking is the subject of particular
remark.t  It has also been peculiarly gratifying to find, upon correspondence, that several eminent clergymen and professors in our
theological institutions, have long entertained sentiments in keeping with those which are there expressed.
Indeed, the advantages to be secured by a work of this sort, if
properly executed, must be obvious upon the least reflection.  The
HISTORY OF PREACHING is worthy of far more attention than is
generally given to it.  It is a remarkable fact that very little has
been written upon this subject.  Church histories have been written,
and histories of nations, and kingdoms, and events; but the PULPIT
— the mightiest agency in civilized society,
" The most important and effectual guard,
Support, and ornament ofvirtue's cause,"
and the chief instrumentality for the salvation of the world-has
received but little attention at the hands of scholars and historians.
It is true that sacred poets have sung its praise, and statesmen and
philosophers have acknowledged the necessity of its molding and
* A single exception is rendered necessary in the case of the Irish pu'pit.
t July number, Article III, near the conclusion.




INTRODUCT -IN.
restraining power; but the historical aspect of the pulpit has been
treated as if wholly undeserving of extended notice and careful
study. And yet, in their bearings upon the interests and destinies
of men, how trivial have been the fortunes of empires and kings,
compared with the success or failure of this one agency of preaching!
What can be more interesting and instructive, than the study of
ecclesiastical and civil history, from the stand-point of that central
power-the pulpit?  To note its position and peculiarities in any
given age and country-to trace its influence, and mark the
breadth and depth of its imprint upon the face of society-to determine the cause, or causes, which gave it strength, or brought it
into a state of inefficiency-surely a pursuit of this nature can not
be unattended with interest. Nor can it fail to yield the most
important lessons. In any branch of inquiry, we can ill afford to
dispense with the knowledge of what has preceded us. It is a common complaint that the pulpit of the present day is not exerting
its just measure of influence-that it is not answering the call
which the awakened mind of this age is making upon it. If this be
so, may not some of the causes be discovered and removed, by
taking counsel of the past, and by a careful comparison of existing
peculiarities in preaching in various parts of the world?   No
country or age can claim perfection in the manner of presenting
truth.  The excellences of every pulpit vary from those of every
other. Sacred eloquence assumes different forms in different ages
and localities. Its power is lessened by overlooking any of these
forms. To attain to a perfect model, it is requisite to avoid the imperfections, and appropriate the excellences, of the several schools
of pulpit oratory; and to do this, a knowledge of preaching in
other ages, and among other nations, is indispensable.
To facilitate such an acquaintance with the pulpit in different
countries and times, and to stimulate inquiry in this direction, has
been the object in furnishing the historical sketches of this work
The remark that they have cost the author not a litttle labor and
research, imperfect as they are, will not seem strange, when it is
borne in mind, that there is not a complete history of preaching itr
any one portion of Christendom; (so far as has come to his observa
tion), and that, therefore, the requisite materials have been gathere(
of necessity, in fragmentary parts; mostly in civil and religio
journals of different countries, and historical lectures, and foreign
and domestic reviews.
As will be seen, these sketches cover about ninety pages; and




Ti                  INTRODUCTION.
embrace each of the eight divisions of the world, where the Chris.
tian religion has extensively prevailed. It may also be remarked,
that the biographical and critical notices, and indeed the discourses
themselves, as here arranged, help to render the historical aspect
of the work more complete.
The main advantage, however, which is contemplated in this
work, is the elevation and improvement of the ministrations of the
pulpit, by means of presenting the best models of preaching which
are to be found in the different languages. The mind is quickened
and stimulated, as well as enriched, by being brought into contact
with the strong thoughts of strong men. It is said to have been a
frequent custom of one of the greatest statesmen which our country
has produced, to rouse his mental energies to vigorous exertion,
previous to some mighty effort, by endeavoring to master one of
Paul's great arguments in the epistle to the Romans. Ceesar might
never have had his splendid triumphs as Roman Imperator, had he
not one day fallen upon a statue of Alexander, which adorned a
certain edifice in Spain, and been fired with new enthusiasm, by
the recollection that the conqueror of the world had died at about
the age of thirty years, while he, though five years older, had
accomplished so little. In like manner many an ordinary mind has
been put to shame on account of its low attainments, and nerved to
new and lofty endeavors, by meeting with some noble production of
human genius. Here lies one advantage of perusing the masterpieces of pulpit eloquence. It is not possible that the greatest
sermons of the greatest preachers, should be brought distinctly
before the minds of the ministry, especially the younger portion,
without giving to them a decided impulse in the line of intellectual
greatness, and genuine Christian eloquence.
Much is gained if, by this means, only a high ideal of excellence,
in the department of preaching, is formed. Indeed a just conception
of what ought to be done, and what may be done, is a chief point
to be attained, in order to eminence in any profession. For this,
more than for any thing else, the artist visits the distant shrines of
genius, and seeks the exquisite models of the great masters of art.
For a similar reason, familiarity is sought with classical writings.
Proficiency is acquired in the use of language, as well as in artistic
skill, by imitation more than by precepts. " Invention," says Sir
Joshua Reynolds, in his Discourses before the Royal Academy, "is
one of the great marks of genius; but if we consult experience we
shall find that it is by being conversant with the inventions of
others, that we l&are to invent; as by reading the thoughts of




INTRODUCTION.                        vii
others we learn to think." It was by studying Homer and Thucy4.
ides that the great Athenian orator acquired his vehemence. Of
Cicero it has been said, that he incorporated into his manner, the
strength of Demosthenes, the copiousness of Plato, and the delicacy
of Isocrates: and of Plato, that though he despaired of excelling
Homer in poetry, yet by the very attempt, he acquired a sweetness
and majesty of style which occasioned him to be called the " Homer
of Philosophers."
It is upon this principle, that the gospel minister acts wisely who
studies the best specimens of pulpit eloquence. No high-minded
man will do this with the design of servile imitation. To make
any one preacher a model, much more to act the part of a plagiarist,
by using without credit other men's productions, is what every independent and high-principled mind will despise. But while following
his own genius, and acting independently as to his style and trains
of thought, it is the part of wisdom to read with care the choicest
discourses of the most eminent preachers. To proscribe their use
altogether, from fear of abuse, were as unwise as if the artist should
refuse to look upon the frescoes of the Vatican, or walk in the galleries of Florence or the Louvre, from fear of losing his native manner;
or as if the scholar in belles-lettres, or oratory, for the same reason,
should refuse to read the writings of Cicero, or Addison, or Burke.
A few words may be necessary as to the execution of this work.
The aim has been to represent, so far as possible, each country, each
period, and each evangelical denomination; and at the same time
to admit no sermon unless of a decidedly superior order. To gain
these several ends, and yet restrict the work within its proper
limits, has been found exceedingly difficult. Many eminent preachers, in any given country or Christian connection, have, of neces.
sity, been excluded. In not a few cases, this has been done with
very great reluctance; so much so, that, should the work meet with
general favor, it is not impossible that, at some future time, another
volume may be added as supplementary. At the outset, the design
was entertained of introducing sermons from a number of eminent
living divines, in different countries. For various reasons this purpose was abandoned; and, should Providence permit, they will
appear in a separate volume.
It is proper, also, to state, that caution has been exercised as to
the editions of any author's works; and that no change of any kind
has been made without distinct notice. In a very few cases, rather
than exclude an author altogether, a part of some lengthy discourse
has been omitted, the circumstance being clearly indicated as it




O..j                  INTRODUCTION.
occurs. It is scarcely necessary to say that sermons of a denomina.
tional or controversial character, have not been introduced. There
is little or nothing in the entire work, it is believed, to which exception may be taken by any class of evangelical Christians.
It will be seen that about thirty of the discourses are from foreign
languages. No effort has been spared to secure for these productions, their fairest possible expression in English. A large number
of them appear now, for the first time, in their new garb. Where
advantage has been taken of any available source for the rendering
of a sermon, it has not been done without careful attention to the
point ox accuracy and reliability.  The author is not at liberty
to give full particulars as to the sources of the respective translations.  Among the translators are Professors A. C. Kendrick,
George R. Bliss, Edwards A. Park, A. N. Arnold, and H. I. Ripley,
President Barnas Sears, and the Revs. R. Turnbull, D.D., D. W.
Poor, and William Roberts. It may farther be stated, that the
rendering of Gregory Nazianzen is by the first of these gentlemen,
in the order of their names; that of Melancthon, Schleiermacher,
and Harms, by the second; that of Basil, by the fourth; and that
of Chrvsostom, by the fifth. The translation of Bossuet and
Flecheir, is adopted, by permission, from the valuable work of
Rev. Dr. Turnbull, on the "' Pulpit Orators of France and Switzerland." That of Vinet is from the same pen. That of John Elias,
is by the Rev. Mr. Roberts. Other particulars need not be given.
It only remains that mention be made of the very timely assistance rendered, in the prosecution of the work, by several Christian
ministers and theological teachers. Especial obligations are due
to Professor Edwards A. Park, of Andover, whose generosity and
friendly aid will ever be held in grateful remembrance: also to
the Rev. William R. Williams, D.D., and Professor H. B. Smith,
D.D., of New York city; Rev. W. B. Sprague, D.D., of Albany;
Rev. Dr. D. P. Kidder, of Newark; Drs. Joseph Belcher and J.
Newton Brown, of Philadelphia; and Rev. R. Irvine, of Canada
West, who have kindly permitted free access to their valuable
libraries, and aided by their counsel and extensive information.
NEWARK, N. J., April 27th, 1856




CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
THE GREEK AND LATIN PULPIT.
PAeIZ
HISTORICAL SKETCH.................... 17
I.
TERTULLIAN.
THE DUTY AND REWARDS OF PATIENCE.-JAMES, i4.....25
II.
CYPRIAN.
THE LORD'S PRAYER.-MATTHEW, vi. 9..3.........    36
III.
ATHANASIUS.
CHRIST THE ETERNAL GOD.-PSALM, xlv. 7, 8.....52.....   2
IV.
CYRIL.
THE CREATOR SEEN IN THE CREATIONS.-JoB, xxxvii 2, 3.....  6)
V.
GREGORY NAZIANZEN.
ORATION OVER BASIL THE GREAT.-ROMANS, X. 18........ 61
VI.
BASIL THE GREAT.
ADMONITION TO THE FALLEN. —JEREMIAH, ix. 1........    14
VII.
CHRYSOSTOM.
EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF FRIENDS.-1 THESSALONIANS, iVT 3 80
VIII.
AUGUSTINE.
THE RESTORING OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND.-MATTHEW, xx. 30-34... 94




x              CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.
THE ENGLISH PULPIT.
HISTORICAL SKETCH................ 109
IX.
JOHN WICKLIFFE.
CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST.-MATTHrw,-xzvi 26.  116
X.
HUGH LATIMER.
SERMON OF THE PLOW.-RoMANS, xv. 4........... 127
XI.
JOHN  JEWELL.
CHALLENGE TO THE PAPISTS.-1 CORITHIANS, xi. 23.145
XII.
JOHN DONNE.
CHRIST'S TRIUMPH IN THE RESURRECTION.-ATs, ii 36..   153
XIII.
JOSEPH HALL.
THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST.-GALATIANS ii. 20.... 166
XIV.
THOMAS ADAMS.
THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS, FAITH, HOPE, CHARITY. —1 Co, xiii. 13 17
XV.
WILLIAM CHILLINGWORTH.
THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER.-2 TIMOTHY, iii 1-5. 192
XVI.
RICHARD BAXTER.
MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVATION.-MATTHWw, xxii 5.. 209
XVII.
JOHN BUNYAN.
THE BARREN FIG-TREE, OR FRUITLESS PROFESSOR. —Lux, xiii. 8 9. 224




CONTENTS OF VOLUME I                      Xi
XVIII.
JOHN HOWE.
PAG2
TUE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS. —Lu}E, xix. 41, 42... 237
XIX.
JOHN  TILLOTSON.
THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION.-AcTs, xxvi. 8.... 251
XX.
ISAAC BARROW.
THE CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST.-1 COLOSSIANS, i. 23..... 265
XXI.
ROBERT SOUTH.
THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.-GENESIS, i. 27.........284
XXII.
BENJAMIN KEACH.
THE SCRIPTURES SUPERIOR TO OTHER MANIFESTATIONS.-LuKE, xvi 31 299
XXIII.
FRANCIS ATTERBURY.
TEE TERRORS OF CONSCIENCE.-MATTHEW, xiv. 1-3....... 306
XXIV.
JOHN WESLEY.
THE GREAT ASSIZE.-RoMANs, xiv. 10..........  318
XXV.
GEORGE WHITFIELD.
THE KINGDOM OF GOD. —ROMANS, xiv. 17. (Not found in any of his works). 342
XXVI.
ROBERT ROBINSON.
OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST.-JoHN, xiv. 15... 349
XXVII.
ROBERT HALL.
MODERN INFIDELITY CONSIDERED.-EPHEsIAN, i 12....... 362
XXVIII.
WILLIAM JAY.
THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.-LEVITICUS, xxv. 10............  391




xil            CONTENTS OF VOLUME 1.
XXIX.
JOHN FOSTER.
PAGN
THE IMPRISONMENT AND DELIVERANCE OF PETER.-ACrs, xii. 1-11.
(Not found in any of his works.)..............411
XXX.
RICHARD  WATSON.
MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.-JoB, vii. 27...... 423
THE GERMAN PULPIT.
HISTORICAL SKETCH..................... 445
XXXI.
LUTHER.
THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION.-GALATTANS, iv. 1-7.. 457
XXXII.
MELANCTHON.
THE SECURITY OF GOD'S CHILDREN.-JoHN, x. 28........ 474
XXXIII.
SPENER.
THE TEMPTATIONS OF SATAN.-MATTHEW, iv. 3........ 481
XXXIV.
Z OLLIKOFER.
THE ENNOBLING NATURE OF CHRISTIANITY.-PSALM, viii. 5..... 485
XXXV.
HERDE R.
THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. —RoMANs, xv. -13.. 496
XXXVI.
REINHARD.
THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.-LuKE, ii. 1-14...... 615
XXXVII.
REINHARD.
THE SOCIAL AND UNSOCIAL VIRTUES.-LuKF i. 80..... 520




CONTENTS OF VOLUME I                   xI1
XXXVIII.
SCHLEIERMtIACHER.
PAGi
1YLe'r",.e RESURRECTION A TYPE OF OUR NEW LIFE. —RoMANxs,   4-8 524
XXXIX.
HARMS.
THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.-PHILIPPIANS, iii. 12, 13..... 534
XL.
THEREMIN.
THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAVES. —MATTHEW, xxvii. 61....147
THE  IRISH   PULPIT.
HISTORICAL SKETCHI.......... 561
XLI.
JEREMY TAYLOR.
{HE FOOLISH EXCHANGE.-MATTHEW, xvi. 26........        561
XLII.
WALTER BLAKE KIRWAN.
SEEKING ANOTHER'S WEALTH.-1 CORINTHIANS, x 24......  585
XLIII.
ALEXANDER CARSON.
THE GLORY OF THE SAINTS IN HEAVEN.-RoaMANs, vii. 18.... 594
XLIV.
CHARLES WOLFE.
THE YOKE EASY AND THE BURDEN LIGHT.-MATEw, xi 30...  O




ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO PREACHERS.
FOR OTHER INDICES, SEE END OF VOLUME It.
PAGE?AGU
BADIE......... ii 105 JAY..........   i. 397
ADAMS.,.........  L 179 JEWELL..........i. i 145
ATHANASrS........ i   2 KEACH........         i 299
ATTERBURY.......   i. 306 KmIRW........ i 585
AUGUSTIN.......... 94 KNOX...........ii. 206
BARROW......    i 263 LATIMEB.1......... i 127
BASIL THE GREAT..        i. 74 L ELAND.......  453
BAXTER.......    i. 209 LIVINGSTON.......    424
BEDELL....... ii. 6516 LOGAN..........            ii 294
BLAIR.......  ii. 282 LUTHER.......... i. 457
BOSSUET......               ii.  22 MASSLLON...........   137
BOURDALOUE....... ii. 46 MASON............  486
BUNYAN.......... i. 224 MATHER.......... ii 384
CALVIN.... ii. 11 M'CRIE.........    302
CARSON..  i. 594 M'LAURIN........., ii 244
CHALMERS.....  ii 319 MELANOTHON........    i. 474
CHARLES...1. 584 MAXCY.......... 462
CHILLINGWORTH.... 192 OLIN.........  ii 527
CHRYSOSTOM......     80 REINHARD.......  L 515, 520
CYPRIAN.........i 36 ROBINSON......... i. 349
CYRIL.......... i  60 RUE......... ii. 80
DAVIES.........  ii. 409 SAURIN......                             ii. 157
DOD.........                  iL 560 SCHLEIERMAC.....i. L524
DoNNE... L 153 SOUTH......... i 284
EDWARDS, B. B......  ii 549 SPENER.. i 481
EDWARDS, JONATHAN.....   394 STAUGHTON.........   504
ELIAS.........    ii. 605 SUmMERELD..... i539
ERSNE......              ii. 229 SUPERVILE......    ii. 121
ETANS......... iL 595 TAYLOR........  567
F1NALON.........ii 96 TERTULLIAN....... i 25
FLECHIEB......... 70 THEREMIN........i 547
FOSTER..........  i 411 TILLOTSON......... i 251
GREGORY NAZIANZEN.                   V. i 67.rNET..  i. 183
GRIFFIN..........  470 WALKER..iL 271
HALL, JOSEPH......  L 166 WATSON.......... i. 423
HALL, ROBERT.......   i 362 WESLEY........  i 318
HARMS.......      i 534 WHITE..........ii 442
HERDER........ i. 496 WHITFIELD..... i 342
HOOKER.... ii 368 WICLIFFu.... L 116
OWE.... i. 237 WOLFE...........  607
IRVING........... 336 ZOLLKOFB.1...... i485




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THE GREEK AND LATIN PULPIT,
A COMPLETE historical criticism upon the preaching of " the fati ers"
must be considered a desideratum in theological literature. Such a
work would present a thorough and faithful delineation of the early
pulpit, in reference to the places, frequency, manner, and form of public
discourse, the doctrines inculcated, the integrity and ability of the
preachers, and the value of their extant productions. It will be obvious
that the briefest possible allusion to these several points, is all that can
here be attempted.
At the first, public worship was extremely simple. The places of
assembling were, undoubtedly, the private houses of the Christians;
sometimes, the streets or the fields; and, during persecutions, solitary
retreats. Under such circumstances the first preachers declared the
simple but sublime truths of the Gospel. In process of time, however,
it became necessary to have some uniform place of gathering, and
houses of public worship were provided. In his history of the time of
Diocletian (A.D. 284), Eusebius makes mention of " famous assemblies in
the churches," and of the people being dissatisfied with the " old.edi.
fices," and erecting "spacious churches from  the very foundations,
throughout all the cities." During the persecution under the reign of
this monarch, these buildings were destroyed; but, as is well known
upon the conversion of Constantine, (A.D. 324), magnificent temples
every where sprung up; the emperor and men of wealth emulating each
other in the work of increasing their number and splendor, oftentimes
with the belief that by so doing they atoned for their sin. At some
convenient point within the church-edifice was the episcopal seat, or the
elevated rostrum, whence the people were addressed.
As regards the frequency of preaching, it was not confined to the
Sabbath. Upon festival days, and special seasons, sermons were delivered every day. The homilies of Chrysostom upon the book of Genesis were preached in course, one day after another. The same is true
of those upon the Statues. It was no uncommon thing to have two, or
even three sermons before the same assembly; first by the presbyters,
then by the bishop. "When the Gospel is read," says the author of
2




18           THE GREEK  AND  LATIN  PULPIT.
" Constitutions," "let the presbyters, one by one, speak the word of ex.
hortation, and last of all, the bishop, who is the governor or pilot of the
ship."* In like manner the people were often assembled at different
times on the same day, to hear the word, not unfrequently in the morn.
ing, and afternoon, and evening; as will be seen by Chrysostom ou
Bearing Reproof (Hom. xiii. t. 5), and on Genesis (Hom. x).
The manner of addressing the people had several peculiarities. It
vas usual for the preacher to sit, and the people to stand, during the
delivery of a sermon-the reverse of the present custom. The practice
varied in the different churches; in some, both the preacher and the
people sitting; in others, the former standing and the latter keeping
their seats. But it seems to have been more common for the speaker to
address his congregation, in a sitting posture, from the ambo, or reading-desk, or episcopal seat; as we know was the case with several of the
most noted preachers, by repeated allusions in their discourses. This
was doubtless in imitation of the form of the synagogue worship, where
the teachers "sat in Moses' seat"-as also of our Saviour's habit of
sitting down to address the multitude, referred to in such passages as
Luke ii. 46, iv. 20, v. 3. John viii. 2. Matt. v. 1, etc.
The place assigned to the sermon was immediately subsequent to
the reading of the Psalms and lessons out of the Scriptures. It was
usually ushered in with a short prayer for Divine aid, in which the people were called upon to join. Thus in "Augustine's Christian Orator"
(Book 4, c. xv.), it is said that the preacher should pray, both for himself and others, before he begins to teach; and "to this end, before he
loose his tongue to speak, he should lift up his thirsting soul to God,
that he may be able to discharge what he has imbibed, and pour forth
to others, that wherewith he has filled himself." It was also usual, in
many places, for the preacher, before uttering the first sentence of his
sermon, to use the salutation " Pax vobis," or "Peace be to you;" to
which the people replied, " And with thy spirit."t  Besides this the discourse was sometimes introduced with a short form of benediction (especially upon some happy deliverance); as in Chrysostom's fourth sermon
to the people of Antioch, which begins thus: "Blessed be God, who
hath comforted your sorrowful souls," etc. Many others begin after
much the same manner. It is proper to add, also, that the sermon was
generally concluded with a doxology to the holy Trinity.
The form which the discourse assumed, varied somewhat in different
localities. At first it seems to have been much after the order of an
exhortation; neither long nor eloquent, but full of warmth and love.
Gradually more importance was assigned to it, and the portion of time
it occupied was of a greater length. The sermons of the fathers, how
ever, are almost universally short. Very few of them could have
* Lib. 2, cap. 57.  t "Constitutions," and Homrn. of Chrys. (3 in CoL) etc.




THE GREEK AND  LATIN  PULPIT.                      19
required so much as an hour's time for their delivery. Many that come
down to us, and which appear to have been fully reported, might have
been pronounced with ease in fifteen or twenty minutes. Perhaps the
average time did not reach thirty minutes. The sermon was usually
based upon some passage of the Psalm, or lesson, which was read on
the particular occasion. In rare instances the preacher took no text,
only treating of such matters as seemed to call for remark.* Some.
times several passages, taken from the Psalms, Epistles, and Gospels,
were brought together as the basis of discourse.
The expository method was very common; the preacher delivering
a kind of running commentary upon a particular portion of the Scriptures, often following on, consecutively, through a whole book. In the
homilies of Chrysostom and Augustine-the two great patterns of the
Greek and Latin pulpit-there are connected discourses upon the whole
of Genesis, the Psalms, the Gospel of Matthew, of John, etc., and sev..
eral of the Epistles, sometimes covering all the chapters in their proper
order. In the expository discourses it was common, first, to develop
the meaning of any given passage of the portion selected, and then follow it up with a pertinent lesson, or lively application, bearing directly
upon some present custom, or event, or practice. Here the preacher
allowed himself great latitude, and often traveled far away from the
special point of departure, indulging in consolatory remarks, or pointed
rebukes, or fervent appeals. In some cases the ethicon, or moral lesson,
was reserved for the conclusion of the sermon, and there introduced
with warmth of feeling and great effect.
The discourses of the fathers were alsofree and familiar. The word
by which they were designated among the Greeks (oultx, homilia, from
homileo, to converse in company), seems to imply this. Whether this
be so, or whether the word implied no more than the usual Latin
appellations, tractatus, sermo, or allocutio (a name applied by Tertullian)
-which mean, substantially, any exposition or handling of Scripturet is apparent upon the least observation that the early preachers had
little regard for exact method, and made no show of great learning or
argumentative skill in their ordinary discourses. With very few exceptions, there is an entire absence of the divisions, and formal propositions, so common in our own day; and little of labored interpretation,
and close discussion. There is more of careful exegesis and strong reasoning in the homilies of Chrysostom than in those of any other father;
and yet is he far more noted for force of eloquence, than for just criticism
and sober demonstration. Even where the preacher gave to his sermon
the form of an extended address upon some particular text, it appears
* For references to such instances, see Bingham's Antiq. of Chr. Ch., B. 14 chap. ivr
Also consult same work for authorities on other points here introduced. Coleman's
Ancient Christianity may also be consulted; and Neander, Giesler, et




20           THE GREEK AND LATIN  PULPIT.
to have been, nevertheless, discursive, and, if rich in thought, was yet
without unity or argument, or the skillful arrangement of the several
parts. To this remark there were some exceptions; but, in the main, it
holds true of all the fathers. Discourses were sometimes previously
composed and committed to memory; in rare instances read from the
manuscript; but commonly, either delivered after a plan prepared be
foiehand, or altogether from the suggestions of the moment. Those
that have come down to us were not, in the main, preserved by the
original manuscripts of the preachers, but by means of short-hand
writers, who attained to great perfection in the art, and took down en.
tire discourses at the time of delivery. They were often revised, however,
by the preacher, and read in the families, and preserved with great care.
As to the doctrines inculcated by the early pulpit, though at the first
they were simple and scriptural, they at last became widely varied, and to
a great extent erroneous. If we are to credit good authorities, in the
second century the Christian system preserved its native and beautiful
simplicity. According to Mosheim, the preachers " inculcated no other
doctrines than those of the Scripture, and avoided all vain subtleties and
mysterious interpretations." But certainly as early as the third century,
many of the Christian teachers abandoned the old paths, and " struck
out into the devious wilds of fancy." The degeneracy of the pulpit from
this time onward to the Reformation, is most lamentable. In the early
part of the fourth century, the different schools of theology-the speculative, the traditional, and the historico-exegetical, were in full operation;
an 1 henceforward, theological disputes formed the central point of the
ecclesiastical, and sometimes of political history of the Roman Empire.
A most interesting and instructive chapter might be written upon the
causes that operated to vitiate the doctrines of the Greek and Latin
pulpit. We may here but briefly allude to some of the more influential.
The first grand source of evil was the union of philosophy and religion.
It was not without the best of reasons that Paul admonished his so
Timothy to avoid " oppositions of science, falsely so called," and charged
the Colossian brethren to " beware lest any man spoiled them  through
philosophy and vain deceit." * He who has carefully read ecclesiastical
history, and traced opinions and practices to their p-imal source, appre.
ciates the wisdom of these injunctions. It is impossiole to tell whether
any of the early Christian teachers were perfectly free from the influence
of the prevailing philosophies of their day. The Platonic opinions, so
generally in vogue, are clearly traceable even in the writings of Tertul.
lian, the first representative of the theological views of the North
Alrican Churches.
This system was remarkable for never drawing with accuracy the line
between materialism and spirituality. And we find the writer referred
* 1 Tim.,thy, vi 20. Colossians, ii 8.




THE GREEK  AND LATIN  PULPIT.                       231
ta ascribing to the soul the nature of ethereal matter, and teaching that
God was a body; nay, that every substance was corporeal.* In the
school of Ammonius at Alexandria, the youthful Origen imbibed the
Platonic philosophy; and, by insisting that there is a hidden sense in the
Scriptures, and that they are "of little use to those who understand
them as they are written," and giving to these sentiments the weight of
his prodigious influence, he corrupted, beyond estimate, the primitive
implicity of religion. The Bible was now to be understood as the Platonists explained the history of their gods, according to its allegorical or
mystical meaning; and, of course, by being degraded from its true authority, it became subservient to the dreams of every visionary interpreter.
Besides this, the evil was increased by many of the Platonic philoso.
phers coming over to Christianity, and retaining the philosophical man.
tie, instead of forsaking their speculative tendencies. It may be added,
that from the source now indicated, not the doctrines only, but the
practices of the times of which we speak, became corrupted. For, since
spirit was viewed as refined matter, evil spirits might contaminate those
who came in contact with their possessors, and might also be cast out by
certain ceremonies and bodily exercises. Hence arose public exorcisms,
the multiplication of fasts, aversion to matrimony, non-intercourse with
the unbaptized or excommunicated, and penances and painful austerities,
and an undue appreciation of the efficacy of the ordinances. In a word,
ritual piety was exalted, and the teachers, with the taught, were more
concerned about the formn of godliness than its spirit and power.
Another source of doctrinal corruption is found in the Judaizing
influences of the times. There was prevalent a spurious literature,
attributed by the Jews to honored persons of antiquity, which the
Christians made use of, and altered to suit their own wants, and which
had its influence.t  A common desire also existed, to compare the Mosaic institute with the Christian, of which it was regarded as the type.
T-Ience the theocracy of the Old and of the New Testament became
gradually interchanged and confused. This was the source of numerous
and important theoretical and practical errors, which need not here be
named, but which lasted through many centuries.t
The authority of tradition, which was early acknowledged, became
a further source of error.  It is distinctly traceable as far backward as
Tertullian. In his De Corona Mlilitis, we find him speaking thus: " If
no Scripture hath confirmed this, assuredly custom hath confirmed it,
which doubtless hath been derived from tradition." And again he speaks
of " observances, which, without any Scripture document, we defend on
the ground of tradition alone."
- See his De Animv,, and various Montanist writings. In Lib. ii. c. xvi, he is f)und using
tLis language, " Deum esse Corpus contra Marcion."
t See Gieseler i. 157, and note 25.
t Consult Gieseler i. 159, etc., and Neander's Hist. 1st, 3 cent. pp. 111, 112.




'22          THE GREEE  AND  LATIN  PULPIT.
But the grand, primal source of the corruption of the ancient::alpit
may be stated in few words. It was a want of a distinct apprehension
of the doctrine of Justification by Faith. The theory even was denied
by not a few, when pushed by the arguments of their opponents. The
Latin writer last referred to, for instance, stoutly contends that "salva.
tion cometh to none without baptism." He denies that faith only is sufficient; and declares it does "not avail without its condition." Bu
where the theory was admitted, the early preachers failed to detect thi
natural bearings of this doctrine. Practically, the doctrine was lost,
very early after the time of the Apostles, and the Christian teachers went
astray after vain devices and unmeaning ceremonies. A priesthood arose,
and an infallible Church, and baptismal regeneration, and exorcism, and
extreme unction, and indulgences, and the whole round of mechanical
piety. Had there been a clear perception of the doctrine that a man is
justified by faith only, such departures from the truth had never obtained; for all these errors this radical doctrine cuts up by the roots.
But upon the doctrinal character of the ancient pulpit, our limits forbid
further remark.
We come now to notice its general efficiency. Most of the early
preachers of whom we have any knowledge, appear to have been men
of distinguished natural gifts. Nor were they destitute of mental culture. It is true there were those who rejected all study, and maintained
that the sacred teacher need not search after knowledge, since every
thing must proceed from the operation of the Holy Spirit. And some
placed confidence in the magical effects of priestly ordination. But the
majority thought otherwise, and many of them devoted themselves
assiduously to learning, sometimes traveling from city to city in quest
of superior advantages. At first there was a great want of schools for
the training of the ministry; that at Alexandria being, for a time, the
only one. At the end of the fourth century, that at Antioch was formed,
and widely diffused a taste for sacred learning. From this, as th
mother, several others sprang up, and exerted an influence in the same
direction. It was also common for young men of promise to visit celebrated schools of general education, to perfect themselves in polite
learning, and especially in the ancient languages and the rhetorical art.
But the habits of style here contracted were unfavorable to the sim.
plicity of the Gospel, as they nourished vanity and a love of display in
the pulpit, by no means diminished by the frequent custom of loudly,
and even boisterously, applauding the preacher, when he uttered a fine
passage. To some this was exceedingly offensive; but too often the
preacher was susceptible to its injurious influence.* The cloisters should
also be named among the means of clerical education; but here a certain
* See on this point Neander's Memorials of Christian Life, p. 206, for eitation eof its
reprobation, by Augustine and Chrysostom.




THE GREEK AND LATIN PULPIT.                         28
narrowness of mind was engendered, unfavorable to liberal culture, so
that on the whole, their influence was perhaps unfavorable rather than
otherwise.
From the facilities for learning which were furnished to those who
entered the sacred profession, after the first few centuries, an able and
efficient ministry might have been anticipated. But errors of doctrine,
and endless and ill-tempered discussions on immaterial subjects, caused
it to become inefficient. The union of Church and State, under Con
stantine, aggravated the evil, and rendered the pulpit, in time, almost
completely imbecile, except for political ends. The clergy became, to
an alarming extent, mercenary, and ambitious of worldly honors. The
many outward advantages possessed by this order, excited unconverted
and even unprincipled men, to seek for ecclesiastical offices, and often
too successfully. A few earnest and good men there were, who protested against this entering the sanctuary with unwashed hands and unsanctified souls; but their efforts were fruitless, and, despite all influences
to the contrary, the sacred office was converted into a means of gain.
The number of the clergy was swelled beyond estimate, and they were
commonly found either rolling in voluptuousness or resorting to the
arts of unworthy flattery, or low intrigue, to obtain some selfish end.*
With the extensive secularization of the professed ministers of Christ,
and their decline in moral integrity, there came, as a consequence, a sad
decline in learning and pulpit talent. Before the close of the seventh
century, the bishops were so deficient of learning as to be unable to
compose their own discourses; most of them  using, as a eubstitute, the
garbled productions of those of more genius who had preceded them.t
By these means, and thus early, was the ministry degraded, and shorn
of its strength.
From what has now been stated, an estimate may be formed of the
general character of the extant productions of the Greek and Latin
pulpit. He who reads these writings with the expectation of meeting with
clear analysis and profound reasoning, will be greatly disappointed. The
fathers were rather ornamental than solid. They can not be accept 3d as
safe interpreters of the Scriptures, though their expositions are oftecorrect and impressive. Those of Chrysostom, in his homilies, arte
especially valuable, though frequently fanciful and unsound. Augustine,
among the Latins, possessed a stronger mind, but is less reliable than his
rival among the Greeks. It should not be forgotten that Christianity
was yet in its infancy; and that every man is, to a certain extent, the
product of the times in which he lives. If the ancient teachers oftentimes missed the meaning of the inspired text, it is no marvel, taking
* On the character of the clergy in the fifth century, see Mosheim, i. 327. In the
sixth century, do., 390. Also Neander, and Gieseler, and other authorities, in support
of this observation.
t Mosheim, i. p. 435, Harper's edition, 1847, may be consulted in proof




24           THE GREEK AND LATIN  PULPIT.
into account the age and the surrounding influences. And who can tell
but that it was permitted, to warn us against trusting to human wisdom, however ancient and venerable, instead of the sure word of
prophecy?
But it has been well observed that " antiquity, with all its imbecili.
ties, is a rich mine, whose ore will reward us when we know how to use
it." The writings of these early times have their intrinsic worth. Aside
from the light which they cast on the history of doctrines, they are often
rich in thought, and furnish examples of nice discernment and elegant,
fervent, and even sublime oratory. Many of the fathers bestowed special
attention upon the art of chaste composition and impressive public
address. Several of them had been teachers of this art. Perhaps the
popular style would be considered too florid in our day, but, in point of
eloquence, some of the early preachers challenge our highest admiration. They have rarely been equaled, and never excelled. This is
particularly true of those in the East, where the Greek tongue was
spoken; for the purity and eloquence of the Latin began to decline
soon after the reign of Augustus. For the reasons here stated, public
speakers have always been recommended to read a few of the primitive
preachers. Fenelon observes that, " after the Scriptures, the knowledge
of the fathers will help a preacher to compose good sermons."
The fame of Chrysostom —the prince of preachers-is well known.
The following is the criticism, in part, of Du Pin, upon the productions
of this great Greek father: "His eloquence is popular, and very proper
for a preacher; his style is natural, easy, and grave; he equally avoids
negligence and affectation; he is neither too plain nor too florid; he is
smooth yet not effeminate; he uses all the figures that are common to
good orators, very properly, without employing false strokes of wit;
and he never introduces into his discourses any notions of poets or profkne authors; neither does he divert his auditory with jests. His cornposition is noble, his expressions elegant, his method just, and his
thoughts sublime."  The homilies of Chrysostom, for the qualities here
indicated, are especially valuable. Those of Basil are generally thought
to come nearest to Chrysostom's in solidity of matter, beauty of style,
ingenuity of thought, and sharpness and vivacity of expression. Next
to these, the writings of the two Gregories, Nyssen, and Nazianzen, are
considered of special value. Those of Ephrem Syrus were also in great
repute among the ancient churches.
* Du Pin, Bibliothec, vol. iii., p. 34.




DISCOURSE FIRST.
TERTULLIAN.
QuINTrus SEPTIMIIUS FLORENS TERTULLIAYNUS was born at Carthage,
about the year A.D. 160. His father was a Pagan, and a centurion in the
service of the proconsul at Carthage. Tertullian was at first an advo.
cate, or perhaps a rhetorician, and did not embrace Christianity until
he had arrived at mature life. At this time he joined the Church ill his
native city; and, either there or at Rome, obtained the office of a presbyter. It would seem that he remained in this connection but about five
years, when he adopted the sentiments of MIontanus. His fall is most
satisfactorily explained on the ground of the affinity of 1Montanism with
the original bent of his disposition. Whether he alwvays remained in
connection with the 1Montanistic party it is impossible fully to determine.
Tertullian wrote much, and on a variety of subjects, and contributed
greatly to form the theological opinions of early times.
He possessed an ardent mind, a quick perception, and a lively, picturesque imagination, which led him to revel in rhetorical embellishments, sometimes to the point of excess and exaggeration. His intellect
was reimarkable, not so much for balance and harmonious arrangement,
as for brilliancy and penetration.  But though often faulty in style,
Tertullian is always read with interest and even pleasure, from his beautiful imagery, his originality, and peculiar force of expression. Though
none of his writings are found in the precise form of discourses, the
production which follows may properly come under this description. For
greater convenience of reference and conformity to the plan of this
work, a passage of Scripture, in the line of discourse, is prefixed.
It may not be superfluous to remark that the -De Patientia has always
been regarded as perhaps the most exquisite of all the author's writings.
Neander speaks of it, in his Antignosticus, as "Tertullian's Deautiful
treatise," and commends its spirit of love and gentleness. He also well
remarks that the production is important in the history of ethics, as it




26                      TERTULLIAN.
is the first that discusses the nature of a cardinal Christian virtue, and
forms a striking feature in that new ethical spirit which emanated from
Christiar ity.
THE DUTY AND BENEFITS OF PATIENCE.
" Bat let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting
oothing."-JAMEs, i. 4.
I. I confess to the Lord God it is with sufficient rashness, if it be
not even shamelessness, that I venture to write concerning patience,
for the practice of which I am altogether unfit, being a man in whom
there is no good thing: whereas it is fitting that they who take
in hand to set forth and commend any thing, should first be found
themselves living in the practice of that thing, and should direct the
energy, earnestness, boldness of their admonitions, by the example
of their own conversation, so that their words blush not for the
lack of their deeds. And I could wish that such blushing might
bring its own remedy, so that the shame of not showing forth in ourselves that which we go about to advise for others, might school us
into showing it forth, were it not that the greatness of some good
things, as well as of evils, so overbeareth our powers, that the grace
of the DivineSpirit alone can work in us effectually for the comprehension and the performance of them. For that which is the most
good is the most in the hands of God, and no other than He who
possesseth "dispenseth it to each" as he seeth fit. Wherefore, it
will be a sort of comfort to reason about that which it is not permitted us to enjoy, like sickly persons, who, when they lack health
know not how to be silent about its blessings. In like manner
I, wretched man that I am, ever sick with the fever of impatience,
must needs sigh for, and call upon, and speak all my thoughts
upon, that healthy state of patience which I possess not, when I call
to mind, and in the contemplation of mine own weakness, ruminate
on, the thought that the good health of faith and soundness in the
Lord's religion do not easily result to any one, unless patience sit
at his side. Such an object is it made to the things of God, that
no one, who is a stranger to patience, can obey any commandment
or do any work pleasing to the Lord. Its good quality, even
they who live blindly, honor with the title of the highest virtue
Philosophers, indeed, who are accounted creatures of some wisdom,
ascribe so much to it that while they disagree among themselves in




THE DUTY AND BENEFITS OF PATIENCE.    27
the various humors of their sects, and the strife of rival opinions, yet
having a common regard for patience alone, in respect of this one
alone of their pursuits they are joined in peace; in this they conspire together; in this they are confederate; this they pursue with
one mind in aspiring after virtue; it is in patience that they set up
the whole display of their wisdom. There is strong testimony on
its side, when it advanceth even the vain sects of worldly philosophy
unto praise and glory. Or, is there not rather an injury done to it,
when a divine thing is made to grovel among the doings of this
world? But no matter for them, who shall presently be ashamed
of their own wisdom, when it is, together with the world, destroyed
and brought to dishonor.
IL To us it is no human affection of cynical indifference, schooled
by a stupid apathy, which giveth authority for the exercise of
patience, but the divine ordering of a lively and heavenly rule,
setting forth God Himself as the example of patience; first as the
Being who scattereth the dew of His light over the just and the unjust
equally, who suffereth the offices of the seasons, the services of the
elements, the tributes of the whole creation, to come alike to the
worthy and the unworthy; bearing with those most unthankful
nations who worship the follies of their own craft, and the works
of their own hands, and persecute His name, His household; bearing with covetousness, with iniquity, with wantonness, with the
maliciousness which daily waxeth insolent, so that by His own
patience He robbeth Himself; seeing that the greater part believe
not in the Lord for this reason, because that for so long a time they
have not known that He is wroth with the world.
III. And this instance indeed of Divine patience being, as it
were, afar off, may perchance be reckoned among those things which
be too high for us. But what shall we say of that which bath in
a manne: been handled among men openly in the world? God
suffereth Himself to be conceived in the womb of a mother, and
abideth the time; and being born, waiteth to grow up; and being
grown up, is not eager to be acknowledged, but putteth a further
slight upon Himself, and is baptized by his own servant, and repel.
leth the attacks of the tempter by words only. When from the
Lord He became the Master, teaching man to escape death, having
well learned, for salvation's sake, the forgiving spirit of offended
patience, He strove not; He cried not; neither did any hear His voice
in the streets; the shattered reed did He not break, the smoking flax HEi
did not guench. For there was no lying voice in the Prophet, yea
rather in the testimony of God Himself, who put His own Spirit in




28                    TERTULLIAN.
His Son, with perfection of patience. None that desired to cleave
unto Him did He not receive; no man's table or house did He
despise; yea, Himself ministered to the washing of His disciples'
feet. He scorned not the sinners nor the publicans. He was not
angry even with that city which would not receive Him; when even
His disciples would have desired that fires from Heaven should'resently appear against a town so scornful. He healed the unthankul; He gave place to those that laid snares for Him. This were
but little, if He had not had in His own company even His own
betrayer, and yet did not determinately make him known. But
when He is delivered up, when He is led as a sheep to the slaughter,
for so He openeth not His mouth more than the lamb, when in the
power of his shearer. He at whose side, if He had desired it, legions
of angels from Heaven would at one word have been present,
approved not the avenging sword of even a single disciple. In
Malchus the patience of the Lord was wounded. Wherefore also
He cursed the works of the sword forever after, and by the restoratioa of soundness to him whom He had not Himself hurt, He
made satisfaction through patience, the mother of mercy. I pass
in silence the Crucifixion, for it was for that that He had come into
the world; yet was there need of insults also, that He might undergo
death?  But being about to depart, He desired to be filled to the
full with the pleasure of patience. He is spit upon, is beaten, is
mocked, is foully clothed, still more foully crowned. Wondrous
constancy in patience.! He who had purposed to hide Himself in
the form of man, followed none of the example of man's impatience!
In this especially ought ye, 0 Pharisees, to have acknowledged the
Lord; none among men could have worked patience such as this.
Such and so great proofs-whose greatness is with the nations
indeed a diminishing, but with us is the cause and building up of
faith-manifest clearly enough to those to whom it is given to
believe, not only by the discourses of the Lord in teaching, but by
His sufferings in enduring, that patience is the nature of God, the
effect and excellency of a sort of innate property.*    *    *
IV. It is this, then, which both followeth and goeth before faith.
Briefly, Abraham believed in God, and by him was accounted
righteous, but it was his patience that proved his faith, when he was
commanded to offer up his son, I may not say for the trial, but for
the testimony (in a figure), of his faith. But God knew him whom
He had accounted righteous. A command so grievous, which even
* There is here a slight omission, for the sake of brevity; as is true in one or two
other cases ind:ated, but not so as to do violence to the train of remark,




THE DUTY AND BENEFITS OF PATIENCE.                  29
the Lord was not pleased to have fulfilled, he both heard with
patience, and, if God had willed it, would have performed. With
good reason, therefore, was he blessed, because he was also faithful
with good reason was he faithful, because he was also patient. Thus
faith, illumined by patience, having been sown among the nations
by the seed of Abraham, which is Christ, and having brought in
grace over the law, appointed patience as her helper for enlarging
and fulfilling the law, because this alone had been before wanting to
the teaching of righteousness. For in times past they were wont to
demand eye for eye and tooth for tootlh, and rendered with usury evil
for evil; for patience was not as yet, because neither was faith, upon
the earth. In fact, impatience in the mean time availed itself of the
opportunities of the law. It was easy to do so while the Lord and
Master of patience was away. But when he came afterward, and
joined in one the grace of faith with patience, from that time it hath
not been lawful to provoke even by word, nor even to say, thou fool
without danger of the judgment.  Anger was forbidden, passions
restrained, the wantonness of the hand checked, the poison of the
tongue taken away. The law gained more than it lost, when Christ
said, Love your enemies, bless them which curse you, anc pray for them
which persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is
in Heaven. Seest thou what a Father Patience gaineth for us? In
this main commandment the whole rule of patience is briefly comprehended, since it is not permitted to do evil even when it is
deserved.
V. But now while we are going through the causes of impatience, the other commandments also will fall into their proper places.
If the mind be disturbed by the loss of property, it is warned in al.
most every place in the Scriptures of the Lord to despise the world
nor is there added any more powerful exhortation to despise money
than the fact that the Lord Himself is found with no riches: He
ever justifieth the poor and condemneth beforehand the rich. Thus
did contempt of riches foreminister unto patience of losses, showing
by the rejection of wealth that the damage of it also ought not to be
regarded. That therefore which we have no manner of need to seek
after, because the Lord also sought not after it, we ought to bear the
diminution of, or even its privation, without disquiet. The Spirit
of the Lord hath declared by the Apostle, that covetousness is the
root of all evil. This let us understand as consisting not in the desire
of that only wnich is another's, for even that which seemeth to be
our own is another's; for nothing is our own, since all things are
God's. Whose also are we ourselves. Wherefore if, when we su~.




30                    TERTULLIAN.
fer loss, we take it impatiently, we shall be found, in grieving for a
loss in that which is not ours, to border upon covetousness. We
covet that which is another's. He that is disturbed by impatience
under loss, by preferring earthly to heavenly things, sinneth immediately against God: for he disturbeth that spirit which he hath received from God for the sake of a thing of this world. Let us thereore willingly lose the things of earth, and keep the things of Heaven.
Let the whole world perish so that I gain patience. Now I know
not whether the man who hath not determined to bear with firmness
the loss of any of his goods either by theft, or by violence, or even
by slothfulness, could, easily or with his whole heart, himself lay
hands on his goods for the sake of alms-giving. For who that can
not at all bear to be cut by another, applieth the steel himself to his
own body? Patience under losses is an exercise in the act of giving
and communicating. He is not unwilling to give, who feareth not
to lose. Besides how shall he that hath two coats impart one of them
to him that hath none, unless he be also one, who if a man take awa,
is coat, can offer unto him his cloak also? How shall we make to
oirselvesfriends of Mammon, if we love him so much that we can
not bear to lose him? With the loss of him we shall be lost also.
Why in this world do we find where we ought to lose? To exercise
impatience under all losses is the part of Heathens, who perchance
prefer money to the soul: for indeed they do so when from the lust
of lucre they engage in the gainful perils of merchandise by sea;
when, for the sake of money, they hesitate not even in the forum
to attempt what condemnation itself must dread; finally, when they
hire themselves out for the games and for the camp; when, after the
manner of brute beasts, they plunder in the highway. But is it
mneet that we, according to the difference which is betwixt us and
them, lay down not our souls for money, but money for our soul's
sake, either willingly in giving or patiently in losing.
VI. In this world we carry about us our very souls and bodies
exposed to injury from all men, and under this injury we submit to
be patient. Shall we be grieved by taking thought for things of
lesser moment? Away with such defilement from the servant of
Christ, that his patience, made ready for greater temptations, should
fall away in trifling ones. If any shall try to provoke thee by open
violence, the admonition of the Lord is at hand: To him that smiteth
thee on the face, saith He, turn the other cheek also. Let his wickedness
be wearied out by thy patience. Be the blow what it may, bound
up with pain and insult, he will suffer a heavier one from the Lord
Thou beatest that wicked man the more by bearing with him, for




THE DUTY AND BENEFITS OF PATIENCE.                  31
he shall be beaten by Him, for whose sake thou bearest with him.
If the bitterness of the tongue should break out in cursing or railing,
reflect on that which hath been said: Rejoice when men shall curse
you. The Lord Himself was cursed under the Law, and yet is the
only Blessed. Wherefore let us His servants follow our Lord, and
let us take cursing patiently, that we may be able to be blessed. If
I hear not with unruffled mind any wanton or naughty word spoken
against me, I must needs myself also render bitter speech in my
turn, or I shall be tortured by silent impatience. When therefore I
have smitten another with evil speaking, how shall I be found to
have followed the teaching of the Lord, wherein it is delivered unto
us that a man is defiled not by the pollutions of vessels, but of those
tiings which proceed out of the mouth? And again: that there remaineth an account to be given by us for every vain and idle word.
It followeth therefore that what God forbiddeth us to do, He also
admonisheth us to bear patiently from another. Here would I now
say a word of the pleasure of patience. For every wrong whether
inflicted by the tongue or the hand, when it hath encountered
patience, will be finally disposed of in the same manner as any
weapon lanched and blunted against a rock of most enduring
hardness. For it will fall upon the spot, its labor rendered vain and
unprofitable, and sometimes recoiling backward will wreak its fury,
by a violent reaction, upon him who sent it forth. For a man injureth thee on purpose that thou mayest be pained; for the gain of
the injurer lieth in the pain of the injured. When therefore thou
hast overthrown his gain by not being pained, he must himself
needs be pained in missing his gain: and then wilt thou come off
not only unhurt, which even itself is sufficient for thee, but beside
this both pleased by the disappointment of thine adversary, and
avenged by his pain. Such is the profit and the pleasure of
patience.
VII. Nor is even that kind of impatience excused, which is felt
on the loss of our friends, when a certain claim of grief pleadeth in
its behalf. For the consideration of the Apostle's warning must be
preferred, who saith, Sorrow not for the sleep of any one, even as the
Gentiles which have no hope. And with good cause. For if we believe that Christ rose again, we believe also in our own resurrection,
for whose sakes He both died and rose again. Wherefore since the
resurrection of the dead is certain, grief for death is idle, and impatience in that grief is idle also. For why shouldst thou grieve, if
thou believest not that he hath perished? Why shouldst thou
take impatiently that he is withdrawn for a time, who thou believest




0` 2                   TTERTULLIAN.
wil' return again?  That which thou thinkest to be death is but a
departing on a journey.  He that goeth before us is not to be
mourned, but altogether to be longed for; and even this longing
must be tempered with patience. For why shouldst thou not bear
with moderation that he hath departed, when thou shalt presently
follow? But impatience in such a matter augureth ill for our hope,
and is a double-dealing with our faith. Besides, we injure Christ,
when, as each is called away by Him, we bear it impatiently as though
they were to be pitied   *    *    *    *    *    *' a
And if there be some things which we believe to be inflicted by the
Lord, to whom can we render our patience better than to the Lord?
Nay, he teacheth us to rejoice moreover and to be glad in that we
are thought worthy of divine chastisement. As many as I love, saith
He, I chasten.  Oh! blessed is that servant on whose amendment
the Lord is bent; with whom He deigneth to be angry; whom He
deceiveth not by hiding His admonitions from him! On every side
therefore we are bound to the duty of exercising patience. Because
wherever we come in the way of either our own sins, or the snares
of the Evil One, or the admonitions of the Lord, great is the reward
of this duty, to wit, our happiness. For whom hath the Lord called
happy save those which are patient, when He saith, Blessed are the
poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven? Surely no one ispoor
in spirit, except he be humble. And who can be humble unless he
be patient? because no one can abase himself without patience first,
to bear the very act of abasement. Blessed, saith He, are they that
weep and mourn.  Who beareth such things without patience?
Wherefore to such it is promised that they shall be comforted, and that
they shall laugh. Blessed are the meek. Under this title it may not
be the impatient can at all be numbered. Likewise when he denoteth the peace makers, under the same title of blessed, and calleth them
the children of God, are the impatient akin to peace? A fool may
understand this. But when He sayeth, Rejoice and be exceeding glad,
when men shall revile you and persecute you, for very great is your
reward in Heaven, He surely doth not promise this exceeding gladness
to impatience, for no one will be exceeding glad in adversity, except
he have first despised it: no one will despise it, except he have
exercised patience.
VIII. As respecteth the rule of that peace, which is so pleasing
unto God, who is there at all, that is of his own nature impatient,
who willforgive his brother even once, not to say seven times, and still
less seventy times seven?  Who whiles he is in the way with his adver
sary to the judge, will end the matter by agreeing with him, except he




THE DUTY AND BENEFITS OF PATIENCE                    33
first sever from himself that vexation, that harshness, that, bitterness, which are in fact the venom of impatience? How wilt thou
forgive and it shall be forgiven thee, if, for lack of patience thou be
retentive of an injury? No man divided in spirit against his brother
will offer his gift upon the altar, except'first by being reconciled with
his brother, he return to patience? If the sun go down upon our wrath
we are in danger. We may not continue for even one day withou
patience. And since it directeth every kind of wholesome discipline
what wonder if it administer also to repentance, which is wont to
come to the succor of the fallen! When, in a separation between
man and wife (for some cause, that is, for which it is lawful either
for a man or a woman to persevere in continuing in a state of widow.
hood), this patience waiteth for, desireth, urgeth, their salvation, as
for those who will one day begin to repent. How much good doth
it confer on both? The one it hindereth from adultery,* the other it
amendeth. In the same manner it is present also in those holy
examples of patience in the Lord's parables. It is the patience of
the shepherd which seeketh and findeth the sheep which was gone
astray; for impatience might easily despise that one sheep. But
through patience he undertaketh the labor of the search, yea, and
moreover carrieth on his shoulders the deserted offender, a patient
bearer of his burden. Again, it is the patience of the father which
both receiveth and clotheth, and feedeth the prodigal son, and
excuseth him to the impatience of his angry brother. He, therefore,
which had been lost is saved, because he began to repent. His
repentance is not lost, because it meeteth with patience. For by
whose rules, save those of patience, is charity instructed, that chief
mystery of the faith, that treasure of the Christian name which the
apostle commendeth with all the power of the Holy Spirit? Charity
saith he, s8zffereth long; therefore, she useth patience. She is kind.
Patience doeth no unkindness. She envieth not: this indeed properly
belongs to patience.  She savoreth not of wantonness: she hath
derived her modesty from patience. She is not puffed up, doth not
insult, for this belongeth not to patience. And she seeketh not her
own, she beareth with her own, so she may profit another. Nor is
she easily provoked: for otherwise what would she have left for
impatience to do? Wherefore, saith he, charity beareth all things,
endureth all things: that is, because she is patient. With good cause,
therefore, she shall never fail: for all other things shall be cleared
away, brought to a close. Tongues, knowledge, prophecies, are exhausted. Faith, hole, charity abide. Faith, which the patience of
* i. e., marriage with a heathen.
3




34                    TERTULLIAN.
Christ has produced; hope, which the patience of man waiteth for,
charity, which patience accompanieth, God being its master.
IX. In this strength of patience Esaias is sawn asundrbr, and
ceaseth not to speak concerning the Lord. Stephen is ston',d, and
asketh forgiveness for his enemies. Oh, how exceeding blessed is
lie also, who against the whole power of the devil, worked out in
full every sort of patience I Whom neither the driving away of hib
herds, nor all that abundance of cattle, nor his sons taken away by
a single blow of ruin; nor, finally, the torment of his body in its
wounded state, deprived of his patience, the integrity which he
devoted to the Lord: whom the devil smote with all his -might in
vain I For he was not moved away by so many afflictions from his
reverence of God, but he was set as an example for us, and a testimony of the working out of patience, both in the spirit and in the
flesh, both in the mind and in the body; so that we may neither
sink under the damage of our worldly goods, nor the loss of those
most dear to us, nor even the afflictions of our own bodies. How
did God in this man build up a trophy over the devil I How did
He set up His banner over the adversary of His glory I When this
man, in reply to all the mass of tidings brought to him, uttered
nothing from his mouth save thanks to God! When he denounced
his wife, already wearied out with afflictions, and advising a wicked
remedy! Well! God was rejoiced. Well! the evil one was cut
asunder, while Job was wiping away, with great patience, the filthy
discharge from his boils, which he was bringing back, in mockery
the worms broke out from them, into the same holes and pastures in
his perforated flesh. Wherefore this laborer for the victory of God,
having beaten back all the darts of his temptations by the coat of
mail and shield of patience, presently both recovered from God the
soundness of his body, and had in possession twice as much as he
had lost; and, if he had wished that his sons should be restored, he
would have been again called their father. But he had rather that
they should be given back to him at that day. Having full confidence in the Lord, he deferred a joy so great to another season.
He endured this voluntary bereavement that he might not live with.
out some kind of patience.
X. Thus is God an abundantly sufficient depository of patience.
If thou placest a wrong in His hands, He is an avenger; if a loss,
He is a restorer; if pain, He is a physician; if death, He is thd
resurrection. What a license hath patience, in having God for her
debtoi I And not without cause; for she observeth all His pleas.




THE DUTY AND LENEFITS OF PATIENCE.                 35
ure, she interposeth her aid in all His commands. She fortifieth
faith, gui leth peace, assisteth charity, instructeth humility, waiteth
for penitence, setteth her mark upon confession, ruleth the flesh,
preserveth the spirit, bridleth the tongue, restraineth the hand,
treadeth temptations under foot, driveth away offenses, perfecteth
martyrdom, consoleth the poor, ordereth the rich, straineth not the
weak, wasteth not the strong, delighteth the believer, inviteth the
heathen, commendeth the servant to his master, his master to God;
adorneth the woman, approveth the man; is loved in the boy,
praised in the young man, respected in the old; is beautiful in every
sex, in every age. Come now, let us describe her form and hey
demeanor. She hath a countenance serene and placid, a forehead
smooth, contracted with no wrinkle of grief or of anger, her brows
evenly and cheerfully rplaxed, her eyes cast down in humility, not
in melancholy. Her mouth beareth the seal of honorable silence.
Her color is such as those have who are free from care and crime.
Her head is often shaken at the devil, with a smile of defiance.
For the rest, her clothing about her bosom is white and closely fitted
to the body, as being neither puffed out nor ruffled. For she sitteth
on the throne of that most kind and gentle Spirit who is not in the
gathering of the whirlwind, nor in the blackness of the cloud, but
belongeth to the soft, calm, clear and simple, such as Elias saw Him
at the third time. For where God is, there also is his foster-child,
to wit, patience. When, therefore, the Spirit of God descendeth,
patience never divideth from  Him, accompanieth Him.  If we
receive her not together with the Spirit, will He abide with us
always? Nay, I know not whether He would continue any longer.
Without His companion and handmaid, He must needs be grieved
at every place and time. Whatever His enemy inflicteth IHe can
not endure alone, lacking the instrument of endurance. This is the
way, this the rule, these the works of an heavenly and true, that is
a Christian patience.




DISCOURSE SECOND,
CYPRIAN.
TilE pi ecise time of the birth of THACIUS CACrIIUS CYPRIAN is not
certairly known. It was about the year 200; and the place of his nativity was Carthage, where he enjoyed the instructions of Tertullian, whom
he held in the highest estimation. He was a teacher of rhetoric, and
passionately fond of oratory and eloquence. His conversion to Christianity took place at the age of forty-six, soon after which he was chosen
presbyter, and subsequently bishop, by the church in Carthage. During
the persecutions under Decius he fled; but, having returned, at length,
to Carthage, in 257, he was banished to Churubis. The year following
he was beheaded. Besides Augustine, Cyprian did more than any other
early writer, to give form and character to the doctrine and practice of
the Latin churches. But his character presents a strange compound
of weakness and excellences. We read his writings with mingled feelings of pleasure, of pain, of admiration, and of contempt. Now we are
charmed with his eloquence, his beautiful simplicity, and earnest defense
of the truth; and anon we are amazed at his gross views of religion and
of the Christian ordinances, his superstitions, puerile reasonings, and
unsound principles. Many of his written productions remain, principally
in the form of epistles and treatises. His exposition of the Lord's Prayer,
which follows, presents the most favorable specimen of the man, and has
always been greatly admired. It is often referred to by Augustine, in
his treatise against the Pelagians. Rettberg, in his life of Cyprian, says,
"In no work of Cyprian does the whole Christian character of the man
speak out so distinctly as in this;" and an able critic of his works says
of this production, " We warmly recommend it to the pious reader"
The preface, or introductory part, is here omitted.
THE LORD'S PRAYER.' Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom corae; Thy
will be done, as in heaven, so in earth; give us this day our daily bread, and forgive UR
our debts, as we forgive our debtors; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver:a
from evil. Amen."-MATT. vi 9.
I. First of all, the teacher of peace and master of unity would
uot have men pray singly and severally, since, when any prays, he




THE LORD'S PRAYER                       37
is not to pray for himself only. For we say not, My Father which
art in Heaven; nor, Give me this day my bread; nor does each
individual pray that his own debt only should be forgiven, or ask
for himself alone, not to be led into temptation, or to be delivered
from evil Our prayer is general, and for all; and when we pray,
we pray not for one person, but for us all, because we all are one.
tod, the Master of peace and concord, so willed that one should
pray for all, according as Himself in one $c1d bear us all. This rule
of prayer the three children shut up in the fiery furnace kept, being
in unison in prayer, and being concordant in an agreement of spirit.
The authority of Divine Scripture declares this; and in teaching
how such persons prayed, it gives an example which we ought to
imitate in our prayers, in order that we may become like them.
Then the three, it says, as out of one mouth, sang an hymn, and
blessed the Lord. They spake as out of one mouth, though Christ
had not yet taught them to pray. Hence, in prayer, their words
were availing and effectual, because the Lord was gained by peaceable, and simple, and spiritual praying. It was thus, too, that we
find the Apostles and disciples prayed, after the ascension of the
Lord. They all, we are told, continued with one accord in prayer with
the women, and Mary the mother of Jesus and His brethren. They
continued with one accord in prayer, manifesting at the same time
the instancy of their praying and the agreement. Because God,
who maketh men to be of one mind in an house, admits into the house
divine and eternal those only among whom is unanimous prayer.
II. What sacraments, dearest brethren, are those of the Lord's
Prayer! How numerousl How weighty! Gathered up in few
words, but with such wealth of spiritual virtue, that not any thing,
for prayer and petition of ours, is left unincluded in this comprehension of heavenly doctrine. After this manner, He saith, pray ye:
Our Father which art in Heaven. The new man, born again, and
restored to his God by His grace, first of all says, " Father," because
he has now become a son. He came, He tells us, to His own, and
His own received Him not. But as many as received Him, to them
gave He power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe in
His name. He, then, who has believed in His name, and is become
a son of God, ought hence to make beginning both of thanksgiving
and of avowing himself God's son, when he speaks of God as his
Father in Heaven; and of testifying his renunciation of an earthly
and fleshly father, and his recognizing and beginning to have one
Father only, which is in Heaven; according as it is written, They
who say unto their father and to their mother, I have not known thee,




38                       CYPRIAN.
and who have not acknowledged their own children, ihese have observew
Thy word, and kept Thy covenant. The Lord likewise, in the Gcspel,
commands us not to name us a father who is on earth, because to us is
one Father, which is in Heaven. And to the disciple who made
mention of his dead father, He gave answer, Let the dead bury their
dead  for he had spoken of his father as being dead, while the
Father of believers is living.
III. Neither, dearest brethren, have we only to consider anc
observe that we speak of one in Heaven as a father, but we go
further, and say, Our Father-Father, that is, of those who believe,
of those who being sanctified by Him, and made again by a nativity
of spiritual grace, have begun to be the sons of God. This expression does also apply reproof and condemnation to the Jews, who not
only unbelievingly despised Christ, foretold to them by the prophets,
and first sent to themselves, but also cruelly slew Him. They can
no more call God their Father, for the Lord confounds and convicts
them, saying, Ye are of your father, the devil, and the lusts of your
father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode
not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. And by Isaiah the
prophet, God speaks forth in His wrath: Ihave nourished and brought
up children, but they have despised Me.  The ox knoweth his owner, and
the ass his master's crib, but Israel doth not know: My people doth not
consider. Ah! sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a seed of evildoers, children that are corrupters: ye have forsaken the Lord, ye have
provoked the Holy One of Israel to anger. In condemnation of them,
we, Christians, when we pray, say, Our Father, because He has
begun to be ours, and no longer belongs to the Jews, who have
forsaken Him. A sinful people can not be a son; but they to whom
remission of sins is given, to them is given the name of sons, and
to them eternity is promised in the words of the Lord Himself;
Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin. And the servant abideth
not in the house forever, but the Son abideth forever. What indulgence
is it of the Lord-what exuberance of condescension and goodness
toward us, to permit us, when praying in God's presence, to address
ourselves to God as a Father, and name ourselves sons of God, even
as Christ is Son of God  A name which none of us in prayer
would have dared to reach unto, had not He Himself allowed uz
thus to pray. We should, therefore, dearest brethren, recollect and
feel, that when we call God a Father, we ought to act like sons of
God, and if we have a comfort in regarding Him as our Father, let
us cause that He may be comforted in us. Let us so walk as the
temples of God, that it may be known that God dwelleth in us.




THE LORD'S PRAYER.                      39
Let our conduct not fall away from the Spirit, but let us, who have
begun to be spiritual and heavenly, have only spiritual and heavenly
thoughts and actions, for the Lord God Himself hath said, They that
honor Me I will honor; and he that despiseth Me shall be despised.
The blessed Apostle has likewise in his Epistle set forth:.Ye are not
your own, with a great price ye are bought. Glorify and possess God
in your body.
IV. After this we say, Hallowed be Thy name; not as wishing
for God to be made holy by our prayers, but asking of Him, for
His name to be kept holy in us. By whom indeed could God be
sanctified, who Himself sanctifies? But seeing He Himself has said,
Be ye holy, for I also am holy, it is this that we ask and request, that
we who have been sanctified in baptism, may persevere such as we
have begun. For this we daily make petition: since we need a
daily sanctification, in order that we, who sin day by day, may
cleanse afresh our offenses by a continual sanctification. What that
sanctification is which God's good pleasure confers on us, the Apostle
in these words expresses: Neitherfornicators, nor idolators, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves,
nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit
the kingdom of God. And such were some of you; but ye are washed,
but ye are justified, but ye are sanctified, in the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ, and by the Spirit of our God. He says that we are sanctified
in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by the Spirit of our God.
We pray that this sanctification may remain in us: and as our Lord
and Judge warns the man to whom He had given healing and fresh
life, to sin no more lest a worse thing should come upon him, we
make petition  with  continual prayers, by day and by night
we make our request, that the sanctification and renewed life,
which is obtained from God's grace, may be preserved by His
protection.
V. It follows in our prayer, Thy kingdom come. We here entreat that the kingdom of God may be manifested unto us, in the
same way that we ask that His name may be hallowed in us. For
when is God's kingdom not? or when begins with Him that which
ooth ever has been, and will be ever? We pray for the coming of
that our kingdom which has been promised to us by God, and  eas
gained by the blood and passion of Christ; that we who have continued His subjects in the life below may afterward reign in Christ's
kingdom, according to his own promise and word: Come, ye blessed
of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you, from the beginning
of the world. The kingdom of God, dearest brethren, may stand for




40                       CYPRIAN.
Christ Himself, whom we day by day wish to come, and for whose
advent we pray, that it be quickly manifested to us. As He is oui
Resurrection, because in Him we rise again; so may He be called
the kingdom of God, because we are to reign in Himn. Rightly we
ask for God's kingdom, that is, for the heavenly, because there is a
kingdom of this earth besides. He, however, who has renounced
the world, is superior to its honors and its kingdom; and hence he
who dedicates himself to God and to Christ, longs not for the kingdom of earth, but for the kingdom of heaven. Need have we of
continual supplication and prayer, that we perish not from the
heavenly kingdom, as the Jews perished to whom it had aforetime
been promised, as the Lord has taught and assured us; Many, saith
He, shall come from the east and from the west, and shall sit down with
Abrahagm and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven. But the
children of the kingdom shall be cast into outer darkness; there shall be
weeping and gnashing of teeth. He shows that the Jews were children
of the kingdom before, so long as they held on to be God's children;
but when they lost their concern in the name of Father, they lost
that in the kingdom also. Thus Christians being now admitted to
address God in prayer as our Father, make petition also that His
kingdom may come to us.
VI. We further go on to say, Thy will be done, as in heaven so in
earth: not in order that God may do His own will, but that we may
be enabled to do what He wills should be done by us. For who resists God, so that He can not do His own will? Yet since we are
resisted by the Devil, so that our disposition and conduct does less
submit itself to God in all points, we pray and desire that the will
of God may be done in us; and that it may be done in us, we
stand in need of that will, that is, of God's aid and protection; for
no man is strong by his own strength, but is safe in the indulgence
and pity of God. Furthermore the Lord, manifesting the infirmity
of that human nature which He bare, says, Father, if it be possible, let
this cup pass fro, Me; and yielding to His disciples the example of
doing not their own will but that of God, He added, Yet not My will
htut Thine be done. And in another place He says, I came down from
heaven, not to do Mily own will, but the will of Him that sent Ale. If
then the Son was obedient in doing His Father's will, how much
more ought the servant to be obedient, in doing the will of his
Lord; even as John also in his Epistle thus exhorts and instructs
us; Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world; 9f any
man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is
in the world, is lust of the flesh, and lust of the eyes, and pride of life,




THE LORD'S PRAYER.                        41
which is not of the Father, but is of the lust of the world. And the
world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he that doeth the bitit
of God, abideth forever, like as God also abideth forever.  W'oild
we abide eternally, we must do the will of God who is eternal.
VII. The will of God is what Christ has done and taught; it is
humility in conduct, it is steadfastness in faith, scrupuloausnes in,ur words, rectitude in our deeds, mercy in our works, gc overnance
in our habits; it is innocence of injuriousness, and patienYt under
it, preserving peace with the brethren, loving God witL all our
heart, loving Him as our Father, and fearing Him as oar God;
accounting Christ before all things, because he accounteth nothing
before us, clinging inseparably to His love, being stationed with
fortitude and faith at His cross; and when the battle comts for His
name and honor, maintaining in words that constancy whith makes
confession, in torture that confidence which joins battle, and in death
that patience which receives the crown. This it is, to endeavor to
be co-heir with Christ; this it is to perform the commandment of
God, and fulfill the will of the Father.
VIII. It is our prayer that the will of God may be done both
in heaven and in earth; each of which bears toward the accomplishment of our health and salvation. Having a body from the earth,
and a spirit from heaven, we are both earth and heaven; in both,
that is, both in body and spirit, we pray that God's will may be
done. Flesh and spirit have a strife between them, a daily encounter
from their mutual quarrel, so that we can not do the things that we
would, because the spirit seeks things heavenly and divine, the flesh
desires things earthly and temporal. Hence it is our earnest prayer,
that by God's help and aid, a peace may be established between
these two, that by the doing of God's will, both in the spirit and
flesh, that soul maf be preserved which has been born again through
Him. This the Apostle Paul, in distinct and manifest words sets
forth:  The flesh, saith he, lusteth against the spirit, and the spirit
against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other, so that you
can not do the things that ye would. Now the works of the flesh am
manifest, which are these, adulteries, fornications, uncleanness, lascivious.
ness, idolatry, witchcraft, murders, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath,
strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, drunkenness, reveling, and such like;
of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in times past, that
they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God. But
the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, magnanimity, goodness, faith,
kindness, continence, chastity. For this cause we make it our daily,
yea, our unceasing petition, that God's will in us may be done, both




42                       CYPRIAN.
in heaven and earth; for this is the will of God, that the earthly
should give way to the heavenly, that spiritual and divine things
should become supreme.
IX. It may, moreover, be thus understood, dearest brethren,
that as the Lord commands and admonishes us to love even our
enemies, and to pray too for those who persecute us, we should make
petition for those who still are earth, who have not yet begun to be
heavenly, that in their instance also God's will may be done, which
Christ fulfilled in the saving and renewing of man's nature. For as
the disciples are called by Him as no longer earth, but the salt of the
earth, and the Apostle says that the first man is from the dust of the
earth, but the second from Heaven; agreeably hereto do we, who
ought to be like God our Father, who makes His sun to rise on the
good and on the evil, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust, so
frame our prayer and petition by the admonition of Christ, as to
make entreaty for the salvation of all; that as in heaven, that is in
us, through our faith God's will has been done, so that we are of
heaven; so in earth, that is in unbelievers, God's will may be done,
so that those who are yet of earth under the first birth, may become
of heaven, by being born of water and of the Spirit.
X. As the prayer proceeds, we offer request and say, Give us this
day our daily bread. This may be understood both in the spiritual
and in the simple meaning, seeing that either purport contains a
divine aid, for the advancing of our salvation. For Christ is the
bread of life, and this bread belongs not to all men, but to us; and
as we say Our Father, because the Father of the understanding and
believing, so we speak of our bread, because Christ is the bread of
us, who appertain to His body. This bread we pray that it be
given us day by day, lest we who are in Christ, and who daily
receive the Eucharist for food of salvation, should by the admission
of any grievous crime, and our being, therefore, shut out from communion, and forbidden the heavenly bread, be separated from the
body of Christ, according as Himself preaches and forewarns: I am
the bread of life which came down from Heaven. If any man eat of My
bread, he shall live forever. But the bread that I will give is My flesh,
for the life of the world. Seeing, therefore, that He says that if any
man eat of His bread he shall live forever; it follows, that while it
is manifest that those do thus live, who appertain to His body and
receive the Eucharist by right of communication, so also is it matter
both for our fears and prayers, that none of us by being forbidden
communion be separated from the body of Christ, and so remain far
from salvation, as Himself threatens and declares: Unless ye eat the




THE LORD'S PRAYER.                       43.fes. of the Son of Man and drink His blood, ye shall have no life in you.
Hence, then, we pray that our bread, that is Christ, may be given to
us day by day; that we who abide in Christ and live in Him, may
not draw back from His sanctification and His body.
XI. It may likewise bear this meaning, that we who have re
nounced the world, and rejected its riches and pomps, through the
faith of spiritual grace, should ask for ourselves no more than food
and sustenance, as the Lord instructs and tells us, Whosoever forsak..
eth not all that he hath, can not be my disciple. But he who has begun
to be a disciple of Christ, forsaking all things after the commandment of his Master, has but his food to ask for to-day, without
indulging excessive longings in his prayer, as the Lord again prescribes and teaches; Take no thought for the morrow, for the morrow
shall take thought for the things of itself; sufficient unto the day is the
e1il thereof Justly, therefore, does the disciple of Christ make petition for to-day's provision, since he is forbidden to take thought for
to-morrow. It were a self-contradicting and incompatible thing, for
us, who pray that the kingdom of God may quickly come, to be
looking unto long life in the world below. Thus, also, the blessed
apostle instructs us, forming and establishing the steadfastness of our
hope and faith; We brought nothing into this world, and neither can we
carry any thing out. Having, therefore, food and raiment, let us herewith
be content. But they that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare,
and into many and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and
perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil, while some
coveted after, they have made shipwreck from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. He teaches us that not only are
riches despicable, but are also dangerous; that in them is the root
of seductive evils, misleading the blindness of the human heart by
a concealed deception. Wherefore also God judges that rich fool,
whose thoughts were for his earthly stores, and who boasted himself
in the multitude of his abundant gatherings; Thou fool, this night
thy soul shall be required of thee; then, whose shall those things be which
thou hast provided? The fool made merry in his stores, even that
night when he was to die; and while life was ceasing from his
hand, life's multiplied provision still employed his, thought. The
Lord, on the other hand, teaches us that he becomes the perfect and
accomplished Christian, who, by selling all he has, and giving to the
poor, stores up for himself a treasure in heaven. That man, He says,
it is, that can follow Him, and imitate the glory of the passion of
the Lord; who, unimpeded and close-girt, involved in no shackle ot
worldly possessions, is enabled in unrestraint and freedom himself to




44                        CYPRIAN.
follow after these his possessions, which he has already sent before
to God. In order that each of us may train himself to this, he may
learn to offer a prayer corresponding to his doing so, and may be
taught from the standard which his prayer puts before him, the manner of man that he ought to be. The just man can never be in
want for his daily bread, since it is written, The Lord will not siffer'he soul of the righteous to famish. And again, I have been young, and
now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread. The Lord also makes promise, and says, Take no thought,
saying, what shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewithal shall
we be clothed?  (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek;) for your
Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. Seek ye first the
kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be
added unto you. He promises to those who seek God's kingdom and
righteousness, that all other things shall be added. For since all
things are of God, to him that has God there will nothing fail, if
himself be not failing unto God. Thus Daniel had a meal miraculously provided, when he was shut up by the command of the king
in the den of lions; and among wild beasts hungering, yet sparing
him, the man of God was nourished. Thus Elijah received sustenance in his flight, and was fed through persecution, by ravens that
ministered to him in his solitude, and birds that bare him meat.
And oh I the horrid cruelty of human wickedness! the wild beasts
spare, and the birds give food, while it is men that lurk and rage.
XII. We next proceed to entreat for our sins, saying, Forgive us
our debts, as we forgive our debtors. After supply of food, next pardon for sin is asked for; that he who is fed of God, may live in
God, and not only the present and passing life be provided for, but
the eternal also; whereunto we may come, if we receive the pardon
of our sins, to which the Lord gives the name of debts, as in the
gospel is expressed; I forgave thee all that debt, because thou desiraxst
me. How well is it for our need, how provident and saving a thing,
to be reminded that we are sinners, compelled to make petition for
our offenses, so that in claiming God's indulgence, the mind is re.
called to the recollection of its guilt. That no man may plume
himself with the pretense of innocency, and perish more wretchedly
through self-exaltation, he is instructed and taught that he commits
sin every day, by being commanded to pray every day for his sins,
Thus, in brief, John also, in his epistle, admonishes us, saying, f we
say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us;
but if we confess our sins, the Lord is faithful and just to forgive us our
sins. In his epistle he has united both things, both that we ought to




THE LORD'S PRAYER.                      45
offer prayer for our sins, and that pardon is accorded to us when
we do so. Hence he says the Lord isfaithful to forgive sins, because
he keeps true the word of His promise; for He who taught us tc
pray for our debts and sins, has promised us that His fatherly mercy
and pardon will ensue.
XIII. He has added the rule besides, binding us under the fixed
condition and responsibility, that we are to ask for our sins to be
forgiven in such sort as we forgive them that are in debt to us
knowing that our entreaties for sin will have no acceptance unless
we deal toward our debtors in like manner. Hence in another
place He says, With what measure ye meet, it shall be measured to you,zgain; and the servant who, after being forgiven all his debt by his
Lord, refused to forgive his fellow-servant, was cast back into
prison; on his refusing to yield to his fellow-servant, he lost what
his Lord had previously yielded to him. These things Christ still
more impressively sets forth in His commandments, in the fuller
force of His authority; When ye stand praying, forgive if ye have
ought against any, that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive
you your trespasses. But if ye do not forgive, neither will your Father
which is in heaven forgive your trespasses. No excuse will abide you
in the day of judgment, when you will be judged by your own
sentence, and as you have dealt toward others will be dealt with
yourself. For God commands us to be peace-makers, and dwell
with one heart and one mind in His house; and what He made us
by our second nativity, such He would have us continue when newborn, that having become sons of God, we may abide in God's
peace; and partake as of one spirit, so of but one heart and one
mind. Hence it is that God accepts not the sacrifice of the unrecon.
ciled, and commands him to return first and agree with his brother
that the prayers of the peace-maker may set him at peace with God.
This is the greater sacrifice before God-our peace and brotherly
concord, a congregation gathered to one, in unity of the Father, and
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. In those sacrifices which Abel
and Cain first offered, God looked not at their gifts but their hearts,
so that he proved acceptable in his gifts, who rendered himself accept.
able in his heart. Abel, peaceable and righteous, sacrificing to God
in innocency, taught other men when they presented their gifts at
the altar, to come equallv in the fear of God, with simplicity of
heart, with holiness of life and peaceableness of spirit. Fitly did he,
who in such wise offered his sacrifice to God, himself after become
God's sacrifice, so that one in whom had been manifested the right.
eousness and peace of the Lord, was the first instance of martyrdom.




46                       CYPRIAN.
initiating the Lord's passion by the glory of his bloodshedding. In
fine, it is such men that are crowned by the Lord, and such in the
day of judgment will with the Lord be judges. But the quarrelsome and disunited, who holds no peace toward brethren, such a
one (as the blessed Apostle and Holy Scriptures testify) will never,
Slough he were slain for the name of Christ, be able to free himelf from the offense of brotherly disunion, seeing that which is
written, He who hateth his brother is a murderer, and no murderer
cometh into the kingdom of heaven, or hath life with God. He can
never be with Christ, who has chosen to follow Judas, rather
than Christ. How deep the sin, which not even the baptism of
blood can wash out I How great the offense which martyrdom can
not expiate I
XIV. It is further agreeably to our need that the Lord instructs
us to say in prayer, And lead us not into temptation. In this place it
is shown that the adversary can nothing avail against us, unless
God first permit him; so that all our fear, and devotion, and heed,
ought to be addressed to God, since mischief can have no power in
our temptations, except it be given it by Him. The Divine Scripture proves this by saying, Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, came
against Jerusalem, and besieged it, and the Lord delivered it into his
hand. For power is given to mischief against us, according to our
sins, as it is written, Who gave Jacob for a spoil, and Israel to the
robbers?  Did not the Lord against whom they sinned, and would not
walk in His ways, neither were obedient unto his law? Therefore he
hath poured upon them the fury of His anger. And again, when Solomon sinned, and fell away from the precepts and ways of the Lord,
it is said, The Lord stirred up the adversary against Solomon. In two
ways is permitted against us, either to bring punishment when we
fall, or glory when we are approved; as we find to have been done
toward Job, God making manifest, and saying, Behold, all that he
hath I give into thy power; only upon himself put not forth thy hand.
And the Lord in the Gospel says in the time of His passion, Thou
couldest have no power against Me, except it were given thee from above.
When we thus pray that we may not enter into temptation, we are
cautioned by this prayer of our own infirmity and weakness, lest
any presumptuously exalt himself, proudly and arrogantly placing
aught to himself, and counting the praise of whether confession or
passion to be his own, whereas the Lord Himself teaches humility,
by saying, Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation; the spirit
indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak: that while a humble and submissive confession comes first, and all is referred to God, whatever




TilE LORD'S PRAYER.                       47
we suppliantly apply for, in the fear and reverence Df God, may by
His gracious favor be supplied.
XV. After these things, at the conclusion of the prayer, comes
a sentence comprising shortly and collectively the whole of our
petitions and desires. We end by saying, Deliver us from evil,
comprehending all adverse things which the enemy in this world
levises against us; wherefrom we have a faithful and firm protection, if God deliver us, and grant His aid to our entreaties and
complaints. But having said, Deliver us from evil, there remains
nothing beyond for us to ask for, after petition made for God's protection from evil; for that gained, we stand secure and safe, against
all things that the devil and the world work against us. What fear
hath he from this life, who has God through life ior his guardian?
We need not wonder, dearest brethren, that this is God's prayer,
seeing how His instruction comprises all our petitioning in one
saving sentence. This had already been prophesied by Isaiah the
prophet, when filled with the Holy Spirit, he spoke concerning the
majesty and mercy of God; summing up and cutting short His word,
in righteousness, because a short word will God make in the whole earth.
For when the word of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, came unto all,
and gathering together alike the learned and the unlearned, did to
every sex and age set forth the precepts of salvation, He made a full
compendium of His instructions, that the memory of the scholars
might not labor in the heavenly discipline, but accept with readiness
whatsoever was necessary unto a simple faith. Thus, when He
taught what is life eternal, He gathered the mystery of life within
an especial and divine brevity: This, said He, is life eternal, that they
might know Thee, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.
In like manner, when He gathered forth from the law and prophets
what were the first and greatest commandments, He said, Tear, 0
Israel, the Lord thy God is one God. And thou shalt love the Lord thy
God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength.
this is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it,
Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.  On these two commandments
hang all the law and the prophets: And again, Whatever good things
ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so to them; for this is
the law and the prophets.
XVI. Neither in words alone, but also by His acts, the Lord
hath taught us to pray, Himself praying and making entreaty often.
times, and manifesting what we ought to do, by the testimony of
His own example, as it is written, Himselfdemparted into a solitary place,
and there prayed. And again, He went out into a mountain to pray




and -n.enued all nigh; in prayer to God. If then, He prayed wha
was without sin, how much more ought sinners to pray? And if
He offered continual prayer, without ceasing, from His vigil, the
whole night through, how much more ought we to add prayer to
prayer, and to watch thereunto by night? The Lord offered petition, not for Himself (for what should He, the Innocent, ask for on
His own account?) but for our sins, as Himself makes known, when
hesays to Peter, Behold, Satan hath desired that he might sift you as
wheat; but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not. And afterward He entreats the Father for all, saying, Neither pray Ifor thee
alone, but for them also that shall believe on lMe, through their word;
that they all may be one, as Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that
they also may be one in us. Great is the Lord's bounty and truth for
our salvation's sake, who, not content to redeem us with His blood,
has added, further, His praying in our behalf, as well. See now
what was the desire which His prayer expressed; that as the Father
and Son are one, so we may abide in very oneness. So that hence
also may be understood how deeply he strays who rends unity and
peace, when the Lord made His prayer for this same thing, wishing,
namely, that His people might be saved and kept in peace, as knowing that discord can not enter into God's kingdom.
XVII. When we stand praying, dearest brethren, we ought to
be alive and intent toward our prayers, with the whole heart. Let
all carnal and secular thinking be put away from us; let the mind
dwell on no thought, except the prayer it is offering. It is for this
cause that the minister, before worship uses words of introduction,
and puts the brethren's minds in preparation, by saying, Lift up your
hearts, that while the people answer, We lift them up unto the Lord,
they may be reminded that there is nothing for them to think of
except the Lord. Let the breast be shut against the adversary, and
opened to God alone, not suffering the enemy of God to approach
it in time of prayer. For he oftentimes creeps nigh and enters in,
and, by subtle artifice, calls away our prayers from God, so that we
have one thing in our hearts, and another in the voice; whereas it
is not the so mnd of the voice, but the mind and thoughts that ought,
in sincerity of purpose, to be addressing the Lord. What insensibility is it, to be snatched wandering off by light and profane
imaginings, when you are presenting your entreaty to the Lord, as
if there were aught else which you ought to consider, than that your
converse is with God! How can you claim of God to attend to
you when you do not attend to yourself?  Shall God remember
you in your supplications when you are forgetful of yourself? This




THE LORD'S PRAYER.                       49
is altogether to make no provision against the enemy; this is, when
praying to God, to offend God's majesty by the neglectfulness of your
prayer. This is, to wake with the eyes, and sleep with the heart;
whereas the Christian, even when his eyes sleep, ought to have his
heart waking, as it is written in the character of the Church, speaking
in the Song of Songs, I sleep, but my heart waketh. Wherefore the
apostle anxiously and cautiously warns us, saying, Continue inprayer,
and watch in the same; teaching, that is, and showing, that they may
procure what they ask of God, whom God sees watching in prayer.
XVIII. Those who pray ought to come to God, not with unfruitful or naked prayers. Vainly we ask, when it is a barren petition that is given to God. For since every tree, not bringing forth
good fruit, is hewn down, and cast into the fire, surely words also,
which bring no fruit, must fail of favor with God, seeing they are
joined with no productiveness in righteous deeds. Hence divine
Scripture instructs us, saying, Prayer is good, with fasting and alms.
For He who, in the day of judgment, will render to us a reward for
our good works and alms, is now also a gracious listener to any
that approaches Him in prayer, with the company of good works.
Thus was it that the Centurion Cornelius, when he prayed, found
a title to be heard. For he was one that did many alms-deeds toward
the people, and ever prayed to God. To him, when he was praying
about the ninth hour, an angel came nigh, rendering testimony to
his deeds, and saying, Cornelius, thy prayers and thine alms are gone
up in remembrance before God. Quickly do prayers go up to God,
when the claims of our good works introduce them before Him.
Thus also the Angel Raphael bare witness to the continual praying
and continual alms-deeds of Tobias, saying, It is honorable to reveal
and confess the works of God. For when thou didst pray, and Sara, 1
did bring the remembrance of your prayers before the holiness of God.
And when thou didst bury the dead, I was with thee likewise; and because thou didst not delay to rise up and leave thy dinner, to go and cover
the dead, I was sent to prove thee; and now God hath sent me, to heal
thee and Jona, thy daughter-in-law. For I am Raphael, one of the seven
holy angels, which go in and out before the glory of God. By Isaiah,
likewise, the Lord admonishes and teaches us like things, thus testifying: Loosen every knot of unrighteousness; release the oppression of
contracts which have no power. Let the troubled go in peace, and break
every unjust engagement. Deal thy bread to the hungry, and bring the
poor that are cast out to thy house.  When thou seest the naked, cov'r
him, and despise not them of thine own flesh. Then shall thy light break
forth in season, and thy raiment shall spring forth speedily, and right4




50                       CYPRIAN.
eousness shall go before thee, and the glory of God shall cover thee. Then
shalt thou call, and God shall hear thee, and while thou shalt yet speaI
he shall say, Here lam. He promises that He is nigh, and hears and
protects those who, loosening the knots of unrighteousness from the
heart, and giving alms among the household of God, according to
His commandment, do, by hearkening to what God claims of them,
themselves acquire a title to be heard of Him. The blessed Paul,
having been assisted by the brethren in a needful time of pressure,
declared that good works performed were sacrifices to God. I am
full, saith he, having received of Epaphroditus the things which were sent
from you, an odor of a sweet smell, a sacrifice acceptable, well-pleasing to
God. For when one hath pity on the poor, he lendeth to God; and he
that gives, even to the least, gives to God, spiritually sacrifices to
God an odor of a sweet smell.
XIX. In the performance of worship we find that the three
children with Daniel, strong in faith, and conquering in captivity,
observed the third, sixth, and ninth hour, hereby sacramentally denoting the Trinity, which in the latter days should be revealed.
For from the first hour to the third, a trinity of number is manifested; from the fourth further to the sixth, is another trinity-; and
in the seventh closing with the ninth is numbered in spaces of three
hours. The worshipers of God, spiritually appointing of old those
spaces of time, observed them  as their fixed and lawful season of
prayer. Events aftercoming gave proof that there was a sacrament
in the ancient practice of righteous men offering prayer at these
seasons. At the third hour descended the Holy Spirit on the disciples, fulfilling the gracious promise of the Lord. At the sixth
hour moreover Peter going up into the house-top, was taught and
warned both by a sign from God, and by word spoken, to admit all
men to the grace of salvation, he having before doubted concerning
the admission of Gentiles to baptism. The Lord also cleansed our
sins with His blood upon the cross, from the sixth hour till the
ninth, and then, for our redemption and quickening, He made
victory perfect by His passion. But to us, dearest brethren, besides
the hours of ancient time observed, both seasons and sacraments of
prayer are increased in number. In the morning we must pray,
that the resurrection of the Lord may be commemorated with an
early worship. This of old the Holy Spirit set forth in the Psalms,
saying, My King and my God, unto Thee will I cry: my voice shalh
Thou hear in the morning; in the morning will I stand before Thee, and
will look up. And again by the prophet the Lord saith, Early in
the morning shall they seek Me, saying, Come let us return unto the Lord




THE LORD'S PRAYER.                    51
our God. At sunsetting likewise and the close of day, needful is it
that we should again pray. For as Christ is the true sun and the
true day, when at the going down of this world's sun and light we
make prayer and petition that the day may again return upon us,
we are petitioning for that coming of Christ which will give to us
the grace of the light eternal. The Holy Spirit manifests in the
Psalms that Christ is called the Day; The stone which the builders refused is become the head of the corner; this is the Lord's doing, and it is
wonderful in our eyes. This is the day which the Lord hath made; let
us walk and rejoice in it. Likewise Malachi the prophet bears witness that He is called the Sun; To you that fear the name of the
Lord, shall the Sun of Righteousness arise, with healing in His wings.
XX. But if in the Holy Scripture Christ is the true Sun and the
true Day, the Christian can know no hour, wherein he may not, in
frequency and continuance, offer up his worship to God; for we,
who are in Chirst, that is, in the true Sun and the true Day, ought
all day long to be yielding up prayer and worship; and when night
in its appointment succeeds, advancing in its revolving interchange,
its nocturnal shades can not steal from us the opportunity of prayer,
because the sons of light have their day even amid darkness.
When can he be without light, with whom light is in the heart?
When is the sun not his, or the day not his, who has Christ for his
Sun and Day? Let us then, who are evermore in Christ, that is, in
the Light, abstain not even in darkness from our worship. Thus
the widow Anna without ceasing persevered in continual prayer
and watching in pleading for God's favor, as it is written in the
Gospel; She departed not, it says, from the Temple, serving withfastings
and prayers night and day. Let Gentiles consider this, who have
never yet received the light, or Jews who having deserted the light
are abiding in darkness. Let us, dearest brethren, who are evermore in the light of the Lord, not forgetting nor losing that which
grace given has made us to be, count night and day alike; let us
consider ourselves ever to be walking in the light, let us yield to no
impediment from the darkness we have escaped from. In the
nightly hours let there be no omissions of prayer, no idle careless
waste, in the moments of worship. Spiritually made anew and
reborn, through the tender-mercy of God, let us exercise ourselves
in the part we are to fulfill. We who in the kingdom are to have
day alone, without the intervention of night, let us now so watch by
night, as if we were beneath the light of day; we who are to pray
and to give thanks to God forever, let us now admit no discontiuuance of prayer and of thanksgiving.




DISCOURSE THIRD.
ATHANASIUS.
THIS celebrated patriarch of Alexandria was born in that city, about
the year 298, of religious parents, of whom he was the only son. He
early displayed great strength of mind, and was ordained to the clerical
office in 319, becoming the friend and confidant of Alexander the bishop,
whom he accompanied to the Council of Nice, in 325. He was but twentyseven or twenty-eight years old, when, upon the death of Alexander,
he became his successor. For half a century he was at the head of the
orthodox party in the Arian controversy, which involved him in serious
difficulties, and was the means of his spending twenty years of his official
life in banishment. He died, however, among his affectionate people, at
Alexandria, in the year 373. His works, the best of which were written
in retirement, are chiefly controversial. His Orations and Discourses
against the Arians, one of which is here given, are considered among his
ablest productions. The writings of Athanasius are distinguished for
clearness and moderation of style, and are full of noble sentiment and
lofty expression. He evidently possessed a deep mind, invincible courage,
and a living faith; and to his noble defense of the truth, especially of
the doctrine of the Trinity, as now substantially held, must be attributed,
in no small degree, the prevalence of some of the essential truths of the
Christian faith.
CHRIST THE ETERNAL GOD.
"Thou lovest righteousness and hatest wickedness; therefore God, thy God, hath
anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows
"All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces,
whereby they have made thee glad." —PsmAL xlv. 7, 8
I. Behold, O ye Arians, and acknowledge even hence the truth.
The Psalmist speaks of us all as fellows or partakers of the Lord,
but were He one of things which come out of nothing, and of things
generate, He Himself had been one of those who partake. But,




CHRIST THE ETERrNAL GOD.                    53
since he hymned Him as the eternal God, saying, Thy throne, 0
God, is forever and ever, and has declared that all other things partake of Him, what conclusion must we draw, but that he is distinct
from generated things, and he only the Father's veritable Word,
Radiance, and Wisdom, which all things generate partake, being
sanctified by Him in the Spirit? And, therefore, He is here
"anointed," not that He may become God, for He was so eveL
before; nor that He may become king, for He had the kingdom
eternally, existing as God's image, as the sacred oracle shows; but
in our behalf is this written, as before. For the Israelitish kings,
upon their being anointed, then became kings, not being so before,
as David, as Ezekias, as Josias, and the rest; but the Saviour, on the
contrary, being God, and ever ruling in the Father's kingdom, and
being Himself the Dispenser of the Holy Ghost, nevertheless is here
said to be anointed, that, as before, being said as man to be anointed
with the Spirit, He might provide for us more, not only exaltation
and resurrection, but the indwelling and intimacy of the Spirit.
And signifying this, the Lord Himself hath said by His own mouth,
in the Gospel according to John, I have sent them into the world, and
for their sakes do I sanctify Myself, that they may be sanctified in the
truth. In saying this,, He has shown that He is not the sanctified,
but the Sanctifier; for He is not sanctified by other, but Himself
senctifies Himself, that we may be sanctified in the truth. He who
sanctifies Himself is Lord of sanctification. How, then, does this
take place? What does he mean but this?  "I, being the Father's
Word, I give to Myself, when become man, the Spirit; and Myself,
become man, do I sanctify in Him, that henceforth in Mle, who am
truth (for Thy Word is Truth), all may be sanctified."
II. If, then, for our sake, He sanctifies Himself, and does this
when He becomes man, it is very plain that the Spirit's descent on
Him in Jordan was a descent upon us, because of His bearing our
body. And it did not take place for promotion to the Word, but
again for our sanctification, that we might share His anointing, and
of us it might be said, Know ye not that ye are God's temple, and
the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? For when the Lord, as man,
was washed in Jordan, it was we who were washed in Him and by
Him. And when He received the Spirit, we it was who, by Him,
were made recipients of it. And, moreover, for this reason, not as
Aaron, or David, or the rest, was He anointed with oil, but in another way, above all His fellows, with the oil of gladness, which He
Hifnself interprets to be the Spirit, saying by the prophet, The Spirit
of the Lord is upon Me, because the Lord hath anointed Me; as also




~5F4        ~          ATHANASIUS.
the apostle has said, How God anointed Him with the Holy Ghost.
When, then, were these things spoken of Him, but when He came
in the flesh, and was baptized in Jordan, and the Spirit descended
on Him? And, indeed, the Lord Himself said, The Spirit shall take
of Mine, and Iwill send Him; and to His disciples, Receive ye the
Holy Ghost. And, notwithstanding, He who, as the Word and Radiance of the Father, gives to others, now is said to be sanctified,
because now He has become Man, and the Body that is sanctified is
His. From Him, then, we have begun to receive the unction and
the seal, John saying, And ye have an unction from the Holy One,
and the apostle, And ye were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise.
Therefore, because of us, and for us, are these words.
III. What advance, then, of promotion, and reward of virtue, or
generally of conduct, is proved from this in our Lord's instance?
For if He was not God, and then had become God-if, not being
king, He was preferred to the kingdom, your reasoning would have
had some faint plausibility. But if He is God, and the throne of
His kingdom is everlasting, in what way could God advance? Or
what was there wanting to Him who was sitting on His Father's
throne? And if, as the Lord Himself has said, the Spirit is His, and
takes of His, and He sends It, it is not the Word, considered as the
Word and Wisdom, who is anointed with the Spirit, which He Him.
self gives, but the flesh assumed by Him, which is anointed in Him
aud by Him; that the sanctification coming to the Lord as man, may
come to all men from Him. For, not of Itself, saith He, doth the
Spirit speak, but the Word is He who gives It to the worthy. For
this is like the passage considered above; for, as the apostle hath
written, Who, existing inform of God, thought it not robbery to be equal
with God, but humbled Himself, and took a servant's form, so David
celebrates the Lord, as the everlasting God and King, but sent to us,
and assuming our body, which is mortal. For this is his meaning
in the Psalm, All Thy garments smell of myrrh, aloes, and cassia; and
it is represented by Nicodemus's and by Mary's company, when he
came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about an hundred pounds
weight; and they took the spices which they had prepared for the
burial of the Lord's body.
IV. What advancement, then, was it to the Immortal, to have
assumed the mortal? Or what promotion is it to the Everlasting
to have put on the temporal? What reward can be great to the
Everlasting God and King, in the bosom of the Father? See
ye not, that this, too, was done and written because of us and for
us. that us, who are mortal and temporal, the Lord, become man,




CHRIST THE ETERNAL GOD                     55
might make immortal, and bring into the everlasting kingdom of
heaven? Blush ye not, speaking lies against the divine oracles?
For when our Lord Jesus Christ had been among us, we, indeed,
were promoted, as rescued from sin; but He is the same: nor did
He alter when He became man (to repeat what I have said), but, as
has been written, The Word of God abideth forever. Surely as, be.
fore His becoming man, He, the Word, dispensed to the saints th
Spirit as His own; so also, when made man, He sanctifies all by the
Spirit, and says to His disciples, Receive ye the Holy Ghost. And He
gave to Moses and the other seventy; and through Him David.
prayed to the Father, saying, Take not Thy Holy Spirit from me. On
the other hand, when made man, He said, I will send to you the Par.
aclete, the Spirit of Truth; and He sent Him, He, the Word of God,
as being faithful.
V. Therefore Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever,
remaining unalterable, and at once gives and receives, giving as
God's Word, receiving as man. It is not the Word then, viewed as
the Word, that is promoted; for He had all things and has had
them always; but men, who have in Him and through Him
their origin of receiving them. For, when He is now said to be
anointed in a human respect, we it is who in Him are anointed;
since also, when He is baptized, we it is who in Him are baptized.
But on all these things the Saviour throws much light, when He
says to the Father, And the glory which Thou gavest Me, I have given
to them, that they may be one, even as We are one. Because of us, then,
He asked for glory, and the words occur, took and gave and highly
exalted, that we might take, and to us might be given, and we might
be exalted, in Him; as also for us He sanctifies Himself, that we
might be sanctified in Him.
- VI. But if they take advantage of the word wherefore, as con
nected with the passage in the Psalm, Wherefore God, even thy God
hath anointed Thee, for their own purposes, let these novices in
Scripture and masters in irreligion know that, as before, the Word
wherefore does not imply reward of virtue or conduct in the Word,
but the reason why He came down to us, and of the Spirit's anointing which took place in Him for our sakes. For he says not,
"' Wherefore He anointed Thee in order to thy being God or King
or Son or Word;" for so He was before, and is forever, as has been
shown; but rather, " Since Thou art God and King, therefore Thou
wast anointed, since none but Thou couldst unite man to the
Holy Ghost, Thou the image of the Father, in which we were made
in the beginning; for Thine is even the Spirit." For the naturo of




L4P-46                 ATHANASIUS.
things generate could give no warranty for this, angels having
transgressed, and men disobeyed. Wherefore there was need of
God; and the Word is God; that those who had become under a
curse, He Himself might set free. If then He was of nothing, He
would not have been the Christ or Anointed, being one among others
and having fellowship as the rest. But, whereas He is God, as
being the Son of God, and is everlasting King, and exists as radiance and expression of the Father, wherefore fitly is He the expected Christ, whom the Father announces to mankind, by revelation to
His holy prophets; that as through Him we have come to be, so
also in Him all men might be redeemed from their sins, and by
Him all things might be ruled. And this is the cause of the anointing which took place in Him, and of the incarnate presence of the
Word; which the Psalmist foreseeing, celebrates, first His Godhead
and kingdom, which is the Father's, in these tones, Thy throne, 0
God, is forever and ever; a scepter of righteousness is the scepter of Thy
kingdom; then announces His descent to us thus, Wherefore God,
even Thy God, hath anointed Thee with the oil of gladness above
Thy fellows.
VII. What is there to wonder at, what to disbelieve, if the Lord
who gives the Spirit, is here said Himself to be anointed with the
Spirit, at a time when, necessity requiring it, He did not refuse in
respect of His manhood to call Himself inferior to the Spirit? For
the Jews saying He cast out devils in Beelzebub, He answered and
said to them, for the exposure of their blasphemy, But if I, through
the Spirit of God, cast out devils. Behold the giver of the Spirit here
says that He cast out devils in the Spirit; but this is not said,
except because of His flesh. For since man's nature is not equal of
itself to casting out devils, but only in power of the Spirit, therefore
as man He said, But if i; through the Spirit of God, cast out devils. Of
course too He signified that the blasphemy offered to the Holy
Ghost is greater than that against His humanity, when He said,
Whosoever shall speak a word against the Son of Man, it shall be
forgiven him; such as were those who said, Is not this the carpenter's
son? but they who blaspheme against the Holy Ghost, and ascribe
the deeds of the Word to the devil, shall have inevitable punishment. This is what the Lord spoke to the Jews, as man; but to
the disciples showing His Godhead and His majesty, and intimating
that He was not inferior but equal to the Spirit, He gave the Spirit
and said, Receive ye the Holy Ghost, and, I send Him, and, He shall
glorify Me, and Whatsoever He hearelh, that He shall speak. As then
in this place the Lord Himself, the Giver of the Spirit, does not




CHRIST THE ETERNAL GOD.                    57
refuse to say that through the Spirit He cast out devils, as man; in
like manner He the same, the Giver of the Spirit, refused not to say,
The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He hath anointed Me, in
respect of His having become flesh, as John hath said; that it might
be shown in both these particulars, that we are they who need the
Spirit's grace in our sanctification, and again who are unable to cast
out devils without the Spirit's power. Through whom then and
from whom'sehooved it that the Spirit should be given but through
the Son, whose also the Spirit is? and when were we enabled to receive It, except when the Word became man? and, as the passage of
the Apostle shows, that we had not been redeemed and highly exalted,
had not He who exists in form of God taken a servant's form, so David
also shows, that no otherwise should we have partaken the Spirit and
been sanctified, but that the giver of the Spirit, the Word Himself,
had spoken of Himself as anointed with the Spirit for us. And
therefore have we securely received it, He being said to be anointed
in the flesh; for the flesh being first sanctified in Him, and He
being said, as man, to have received for its sake, we have the sequel
of the Spirit's grace, receiving out of His fullness.
VIII. Nor do the words, Thou hast loved righteousness and hated
iniquity, which are added in the Psalm, show, as again you suppose,
that the nature of the Word is alterable, but rather by their very
force signify His unalterableness. For since of things generate the
nature is alterable, and the one portion had transgressed and the
other disobeyed, as has been said, and it is not certain how they
will act, but it often happens that he who is now good afterward
alters and becomes different, so that one who was but now righteous,
soon is found unrighteous, wherefore, there was here also need of
9ne unalterable, that men might have the immutability of the righteousness of the Word as an image and type for virtue. And this
thought commends itself strongly to the right-minded. For since
the first man Adam altered, and through sin death came into the
world, therefore it became the second Adam to be unalterable; that,
should the serpent again assault, even the serpent's deceit might be
baffled, and, the Lord being unalterable and unchangeable, the
serpent might become powerless in his assaults against all. For as
when Adam had transgressed, his sin reached unto all men, so,
when the Lord had become man and had overthrown the serpent,
that so great strength of His is to extend through all men, so that
each of us may say, For we are not ignorant of his devices. Good
reason then that the Lord, who ever is in nature unalterable, loving
righteousness and hating iniquity, should be anointed and Himself




58                     ATHANASIUS.
sent on mission, that He, being and remaining the same, by taking
the alterable flesh, might condemn sin in it, and might secure its freedom, and its ability henceforth to fulfill the righteousness of the law
in itself, so as to be able to say, But we are not in the flesh, but in the
Spirit, if so be that the Spirit  of God dwelleth in us.
IX. Vainly then, here again, 0 Arians, have ye made this conjecture, and vainly alleged the words of Scripture; for God's Word
is unalterable, and is ever in one state, not as it may bppen, but a,.
the Father is; since how is He like the Father, unless He be thus? or
how is all that is the Father's the Son's also, if He has not the unalterableness and unchangeableness of the Father? Not as being
subject to laws, and as influenced this way and that, does He love
this and hate that, lest, if from fear of forfeiture He chooses the
opposite, we admit in another way that He is alterable; but as
being God and the Father's Word, He is a just judge and lover of
virtue, or rather its dispenser. Therefore being just and holy by
nature, on this account He is to love righteousness and to hate
iniquity; as much as to say that He loves and takes to Him the
virtuous, and rejects and hates the unrighteous.  And divine
Scripture says the same of the Father; The. righteous Lord loveth
righteousness: Thou hatest all them  that worlk iniquity; and, The
Lord loveth the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob; and
Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated; and in Esaias, there is the
Voice of God again saying, I the Lord love righteousness, and hate
robbery of unrighteousness. Let them then expound those former
words as these latter; for the former also are written of the Image
of God: else, misinterpreting these as those, they will conceive that
the Father too is alterable. But since the very hearing others say
this is not without peril, we do well to think that God is said to
love righteousness and to hate robbery of unrighteousness, not as if
influenced this way and that, and capable of the contrary, selecting
one thing and not choosing another, for this belongs to things
generated, but that as a judge He loves and takes to Him the righteous and withdraws from the bad. It follows then to think the
same concerning the image of God also, that He loves and hates no
otherwise than thus-for such must be the nature of the Image of
Its Father, though the Arians in their blindness fail to see either
that Image or any other truth of the divine oracles. For being
forced from the conceptions or rather misconceptions of their own
hearts, they fall back upon passages of divine Scripture, and here,
too, from want of understanding, according to their wont, they discern not their meaning; but laying down their own irreligion as a




CHRIST THE ETERNAL GOD.                     59
sort of canon of interpretation, they wrest the whole of the divine
oracles into accordance with it. And so on the bare mention of
such doctrine, they deserve nothing but the reply, Ye do err, no:
knowing the Scriptures nor the power of God; and if they persist in it,
they must be put to silence, by the words Render to man te things
that are man's, and to God the things that are G6od's.




DISCOURSE FOURTH.
CYRIL.
A PECULIAR interest attaches to this early ecclesiastic, from his res.
idence in Jerusalem; where he was born, probably in the year 315, and
where he is known to have become a presbyter, and, in 350, patriarch or
bishop. But few biographical records remain of him. It is ascertained,
however, that he was several times deposed from his office, through the
strifes and conflicting interests of those stormy times, and that he died
in the year 386. The authorities are not unanimous as to some points
of his character and belief; but his writings afford ample proof that, in
common with most of his time, he imbibed erroneous opinions as to the
efficacy of the ordinances, the advantages of celibacy, and the uses of
tradition. These and other views, alike unscriptural, are every where
met with in his works that have come down to us.
Of these extant writings, twenty-three catechetical lectures constitute the only important part. These lectures, though composed when
Cyril was a young man, are written in a style of clearness and simplicity,
and are especially valuable as furnishing the most complete system of
theology, and circumstantial account of the rites of the early churches
that have reached us from a period so remote. They derive additional
interest from having been delivered to a congregation of catechumens,
and mostly previous to their simultaneous baptism, on the eve of the
commemoration of the resurrection; and also from the fact that they
were pronounced in that consecrated spot Jerusalem, and near the place
of the sepulcher and the cross. Of these lectures, the following is a very
favorable specimen.
THE CREATOR SEEN IN THE CREATIONS.
"Who is this that darkenet!4 counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up now
thy loins like a man: for I will demand of thee, and answer thou Me." —JOB, xxxviii
2, 3,
I. With the eyes of the flesh it is impossible to behold God; for
the incorporeal can not be subject to fleshly sight, and the only



THE CREATOR SEEN 1N THE CREATIONS.                 61
begotten Son of God Himself hath testified, saying, No man hath
seen God at any time. Should, however, any one, from a passage in
Ezekiel, understand that Ezekiel saw Him, let him inquire what that
Scripture says. He saw the likeness of the glory of the Lord, not the
Lord Himself; nay, the likeness of His glory, not the glory itself,
as it is in truth; and beholding only the likeness of His glory, he
fell to the earth with fear. But if the sight of the likeness of the
glory, and not of the glory itself, wrought fear and distress in the
prophets, any one who should attempt to behold God Himself,
would to a certainty lose his life, according to the text, " There shall
no man see Me and live." Wherefore, of His exceeding loving-kindness, God has spread out the heaven to be the vail of his proper
Godhead, lest we perish. This is not my word, but the prophet's:
" If thou shouldest open the heavens, trembling would take hold of
the mountains from thee, and they would melt away." And what
wonder if Ezekiel, seeing the similitude of the glory, fell down?
since Daniel, when Gabriel, the servant of the Lord, appeared,
straightway shuddered and fell on his face; and, prophet as he was,
dared not answer him, until the angel turned himself into the likeness of a son of man. For if the sight of Gabriel wrought trem.
bling in the prophets, had God himself appeared according as He is,
would they not all have perished?
II. The Divine nature, then, with the eyes of the flesh, we can
not see; but from the Divine works we may obtain some idea of
His power; according to the saying of Solomon, For by the greatness and beauty of the creatures, proportionally the Maker of them is
seen. For he says not that from the creatures the Maker is seen,
but hath added, "proportionally;" for so much the greater does
God appear to each, as the man hath attained a large survey of the
creatures; and when, by that large survey, his soul is raised aloft,
he gains a more excellent conception of God.
III. Wouldest thou know that the nature of God is incomprehensible? The Three Children, singing praises to God in the fiery furnace, say, Blessed art Thou that beholdest the depths, and sittest upon
the Cherubim. Tell me the nature of the Cherubim, and then look
upon Him who sitteth upon them. And yet Ezekiel the prophet has
made a description of them, as far as could be, saying, that every
one had four faces; the face of a man, and of a lion, and of an
eagle, and of a calf; and that every one had six wings, and eyes on
every side, and under each a wheel with four parts; yet, though the
prophet has so described, we are not yet able, even if we read it, to
comprehend it. But if we can not comprehend the throne which




62                       CYR I L.
the prophet has declared, how shall we be able to comprehend Him
who sits upon it, the Invisible and Ineffable God? Curiously to scan
the nature of God is impossible; but we are able to offer glory to
Him from His works that are seen.
IV. These things I say to you because of what comes next in
the creed, and because we say, "We believe in One God, the Father
Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth," and thus rescue ourselves
against the by-paths of ungodly heretics who have dared to speak
evil of the All-wise Artificer of all this world, and who, though
they see with the eyes of the flesh, are blinded in the eyes of their
mind.
V. For what fault have they to find in this, the greatest of the
works of God? Truly they ought to have been struck dumb, when
they viewed the vaultings of the heavens, and worshiped Him who
has reared the sky as an arch, who out of the fluid waters has made
the immovable substance of the heavens. For God said, Let there
be a firmament in the midst of the waters. God spake once, and it
stood fast, and does not fall. The sky is water, and those orbs in
it, sun, moon, atid stars are of fire; and how run those fiery bodies
in the water? But if any one is perplexed, from fire and water
being of such opposite natures; let him remember the fire which in
Egypt in the time of Moses flamed in the hail. Let him also behold
the all-wise workmanship of God; for since there would be need
of water for tilling the earth, He made the heaven above of
water, that when the region of the earth should require watering
by means of showers, the heaven from its own nature might be
ready for this purpose.
VI. What I is there not much to wonder at in the sun, which
being small to look on, contains in it an intensity of power, appear-,ng from the east, and shooting his light even to the west? The
Psalmist describes his rising at dawn, when he says, Which is as a
bridegroom coming out of his chamber. This is a description of his
pleasant and comely array on first appearing to men; for when he
rides at high noon we are wont to flee from his blaze; but at his
rising he is welcome to all, as a bridegroom to look on. Behold
also how he proceeds (or rather not he, but one who has by His
bidding determined his course); how in summer time aloft in the
heavens, he finishes off longer days, giving men due time for their
works; while in winter he straightens his course, lest the day's cold
last too long, and that the night's lengthening, may conduce both to
the rest of men, and to the fruitfulness of the earth's productions. And
see likewise in what order the days correspond to each other, in




THE CREATOR SEEN IN THE CREATIONS.    63
summer increasing, in winter diminishing, but in sDring and autumn
affording one another a uniform length; and the night again in like
manner. And as the Psalmist saith concerning them, Day unto da#
uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.
For to the heretics, who have no ears, they almost shout
aloud, and by their orders say, there is no other God save their
Maker and the appointer of their bounds, Him who laid out the
universe.
VII. No one must tolerate such as say that the Maker of light
is different from the Maker of darkness; for let a man remember
Isaiah's words, I the Lord form the light and create darkness. Why,
0 man, art thou offended with these? Why so annoyed at the
time of rest given thee? The servant would not have gained it
from his master, but for the darkness bringing a necessary respite.
And often, after toiling in the day, how are we refreshed by night;
and he who was yesterday amid labors, starts in the morning
vigorous from a night's rest. And what more conduces to religious
wisdom than the night, when oftentimes we bring before us the
things of God, and read and contemplate the Divine Oracles? When
too, is our mind more alive for psalmody and prayer than at night?
When does a recollection oftener come over us of our sins than at
night? Let us not then be perverse enough to entertain the notion
that another beside God is the Maker of darkness; for experience
shows that darkness is good and most useful
VIII. Those persons ought to have felt astonishment and admir.
ation, not only at the sun and moon, but also at the well-ordered
choirs of the stars, their unimpeded courses, their respective risings in
due season; and how some are the signs of summer, others of
winter, and how some mark the time of sowing, others introduce
the season of sailing. And man, sitting in his ship, and sailing on
the boundless waves, looks at the stars and steers his vessel. Well
says Scripture concerning these bodies, Let them be for signs and for
seasons, and for days, and for years; not for star-gazing and vain
tales of nativities. Observe, too, how considerately He imparts the
daylight by a gradual growth; for the sun does not rise upon us,
while we gaze, all at once, but a little light runs up before him,
that by previous trial our eye-ball may bear his stronger ray: and
again, how He has cheered the darkness of night by the gleam of
moonlight.
IX. Who is the father of rain: and who hath given birth to the drops
of dew? Who hath condensed the air into clouds, and bid them
carry the fluid mass of showers, at one time bringing from the north




64                          CYRIL.
golden clouds, at another giving these a uniform appearance, and
then again curling them up into festoons and other figures manifold?
Who can number the clouds in wisdom   of which Job saith, He know.
eth the balancings of the clouds, and hath bent down the heaven to the
earth; and, He who numbereth the clouds in wisdom; and, The cloud
is not rent under them. For though measures of water ever so many
weigh upon the clouds, yet they are not rent; but with all order
come down upon the earth. Who brings the winds out of His
treasures?  Who, as just now said, hath given birth to the drops of
dew? Out of whose womb cometh forth the ice, watery in its substance,
but like stone in its properties. And at one time the water bec ~mes
snow like wool, at another it ministers to Him who scatters the hoarfrost like ashes; at another it is changed into a stormy substance,
since He fashions the waters as He will. Its nature is uniform, its
properties manifold. Water in the vines is wine, which maketh
glad the heart of man; and in the olives oil, to make his face to shine;
and is further transformed into bread, which strengtheneth man's
heart, and into all kinds of fruits.
X. For such wonders was the great Artificer to be blasphemed?
or rather worshiped?  And, after all, I have not yet spoken of that
part of His wisdom which is not seen. Contemplate the spring, and
the flowers of all kinds, in all their likeness, still diverse from one
another: the deep crimson of the rose, and the exceeding whiteness
of the lily. They come of one and the same rain, one and the same
earth. Who has distinguished, who has formed them? Now do
consider this attentively: —the substance of the tree is one-part is
for shelter, part for this or that kind of fruit, and the Artificer is
One. The vine is one, and part of it is for fuel, part for clusters.
Again, how wondrously thick are the knots which run round the
reeds, as the Artificer hath made them I But of the one earth came
creeping things, and wild beasts, and cattle, and trees, and food, and
gold, and silver, and brass, and iron, and stone. Water was but one
nature; yet of it comes the life of things that swim, and of birds,
and as the one swim in the waters, so also the birds fly in the air.
XI. And this great and wide sea, in it are things creeping innumerable. Who can tell the beauty of the fishes that are therein? Who
can describe the greatness of the whales; and the nature of its
amphibious animals? how they live both on dry land and in the
waters? Who can tell the depth and breadth of the sea, or the force
of its enormous waves? Yet it stays within its boundaries, because
of Him who said, Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further; and here
shall thy proud waves be stayed. And to show the decree imposed on




THE CREATOR SEEN  IN  THE CREATIONS.                 65
it, when it runs upon the land, it leaves a plain line on the sands by
its waves; declaring, as it were, to those who see it, that it has not
passed its appointed bounds.
XI[. Who can understand the nature of the fowls of the air?
how some have with them a voice of melody; and others have their
wings enriched with all manner of painting, and others soaring ou
high, stay motionless in the midst of the sky, as the hawk. For by
the Divine command, the hawk, having spread out her wings, stays
motionless, looking down TOWARD THE SOUTH. Who of men can behold
the eagie? But if thou canst not read the mystery of birds when
soaring on high, how wouldest thou read the Maker of all things?
XIII. Who among men knows even the names of all wild beasts?
or who can accurately classify their natures? But if we know not
even their bare names, how should we comprehend their Maker?
The command of God was but one, which said Let the earth bring
forth wild beasts, and cattle, and creeping things, after their kinds; and
distinct natures sprang from one voice, at one command-the gentle
sheep and carnivorous lion-also the various instincts of irrational
creatures, as representations of the various characters of men. The
fox is an emblem of men's craftiness, and the snake of a friend's
envenomed treachery, and the neighing horse of wanton young men,
and that busy ant, to arouse the sluggish and the dull; for when a
man passes his youth idly, then he is instructed by irrational creatures, being reproved by that Scripture which saith, Go to the ant,
thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise, for when thou beholdest her in due season treasuring up food for herself, do thou copy
her, and treasure up for thyself the fruits of good works for the
world to come. And again, Go to the bee, and learn how industrious
she is; how, hovering about all kinds of flowers, she culls the
honey for thy use, that thou, also, ranging over Holy Scripture,
mayest lay hold on thy salvation, and, being satisfied with it, mayest
say, How sweet are thy words unto my taste, yea, sweeter than honey
and the honeycomb unto my mouth.
XIV. Is not the Artificer, then, rather worthy to be glorified?
For what, if thou know not the nature of every thing, are the things,
therefore, which He has made, without their use?  For canst thou
know the efficacy of all herbs? or canst thou learn all the advantage which comes of every animal?  Even from poisonous adders
have come antidotes for the preservation of men. But thou wilt say
to me, " The snake is terrible." Fear thou the Lord, and it shall not
be able to hurt thee.  " The scorpion stings."  Fear thou the Lord,
an d it shall not sting thee.  "The lion is blood-thirsty."  Fear thou
5




66                        CYRIL.
the Lord. and he shall lie down beside thee, as by Daniel. And,
truly, there is whereat to wonder, in the power even of the creatures; how some, as the scorpion, have their weapon in a sting,
whilhc the power of others is in their teeth; and others, again, get
the butter by means of hoofs, and the basilisk's might is his gaze.
Thus, from this varied workmanship, think of the Artificer's power.
XV. But these things, perchance, thou art not acquainted with;
thou hast nothing in common with the creatures which are without
thee. Now, then, enter into thyself, and consider the Artificer of
thine own nature. What is there to find fault with in the framing
of thy body? Master thine own self, and there shall nothing evil
proceed from any of thy members. At the first, Adam, in Paradise, was without clothing, as was Eve; but it was not because of
aught that he was that he was cast out. Naught that we are, then,
is the cause of sin, but they who abuse what they are: but the
Maker is wise. Who hath fenced us with sinews and bones, and
clothed us with skcin and flesh; and, soon as the babe is born, brings
forth fountains of milk out of the breast? And how doth the babe
grow to be a child, and the child to be a youth, and then to be
a man; and is again changed into an old man, no one the while
discerning exactly each day's change?  How, also, does part of oui
food become blood, while another part is separated for the draught,
and another is changed into flesh? Who is it who gives the neverceasing motion to the heart? Who hath wisely guarded the tenderness of the eyes with the fence of the eyelids? for, concerning the
complicated and wonderful contrivance of the eyes, scarcely do the
ample rolls of physicians sufficiently inform us. Who, also, hath
sent each breath we draw, through the whole body?  Thou seest,
0 man, the Artificer; thou seest the wise Contriver.
XVI. These things has my discourse dwelt on now, passing over
many, yea, innumerable, other matters, and especially things incorporeal and invisible, that on the one hand thou mayest abhor those
who blaspheme that good and wise Artificer; and that, on the other,
from what has been spoken and read, and from what thou canst
thyself find out or think of, thou mayest proportionally see the Creator by the greatness and beauty of the creations: and that bending the
knee with godly reverence to the Maker of all things, things of
Rense and things of mind, visible and invisible, thou mayest, with
an honest and holy tongue, and with unwearied lips and heart, sing
praises to God, saying, " 0 Lord, how manifold are Ily works! in
*o.zdom hast Thou made them all; for to thee belongeth honor, and
glory, and greatness, both now and forever and ever. Amen."




DISCOURSE FIFTH.
GREGORY NAZIANZEN.
GREGO1~RY OF NAZIANZEN, in Cappadocia, was born about the year
325. His mother, Nonna, like Hannah, the mother of Samuel, consecrated her son to the Lord before he was born. His education was
begun in Cesarea in Cappadocia, continued at Cesarea in Palestine, and
at Alexandria, and completed at Athens. He remained at the latter
city five years, and there formed his intimacy with Basil, which lasted
through his whole life. At the earnest request of the students of the
University at Athens, he was prevailed upon to give them a course of
lectures on rhetoric; which were of a very erudite and eloquent description, and extended his fame to almost every city. Upon his return to
Nazianzen, he betook himself to a retired and studious life; but at the
earnest solicitation of his father he received ordination, in 361. A large
part of his life, however, was spent in retirement, and he died about
the year 390, leaving various productions, in the form of sermons, letters,
and poems. Several of his sermons were preached in defense of the
Nicene doctrine against the objections of the Eunomians. His writings
are pure in style, and often highly eloquent. " Gregory Nazianzen has
always been considered," says a writer on sacred rhetoric, " among the
first preachers of ancient times." Dr. Cave speaks of him as possessed
"of a sublime wit, subtle apprehension, clear judgment, an easy and
ready elocution, and a great stock of human learning."
The following is a part of the very lengthy funeral oration to which
F6nelon particularly refers, as containing "several moving passages."
It is certainly not without merit, though often extravagant.
ORATION OVER BASIL, BISHOP OF CESAREA.'"Their sound went into all the earth, and their words unto the end of the world."RoMANs, x. 18.
Who more than Basil honored virtue or punished vice? Who
evinced more favox toward the right-doing, or more severity toward




68               GREGORY NAZIANZEN.
offenders-he whose very smile was often praise; whose silence,
reproof, in the depths of conscience reaching and arousing the sense
of guilt? Grant that he was no light prattler, no jester, no lounger
in the markets. Grant that he did not ingratiate himself with the
multitude by becoming all things to all, and courting their favor:
what then? Should he not, with all the right judging, receive
praise for this rather than condemnation? Is it deemed a fault in
the lion that he has not the look of the ape; that his aspect is stern
and regal; that his movements, even in sport, are majestic, and
command at once wonder and delight? Or do we admire it as proof
of courtesy and true benevolence in actors that they gratify the
populace, and move them to laughter by mutual blows on the
temple, and by boisterous merriment?
But, should we even pursue this inquiry, who, so far as my
knowledge extends-and my acquaintance with him has been most
intimate-who was so delightful as Basil in company?  Who was
more graceful in narration? Who more delicate in raillery? Who
more tender in reproof, making neither his censure harshness, nor
his mildness indulgence, but avoiding excess in both, and in both
following the rule of Solomon, who assigns to every thing its season?
But what is all this compared with his extraordinary eloquence and
that resistless might of his doctrine which has made its own the
extremities of the globe? We are still lingering about the base
of the mountain, as at great distance from' its summit. We still
push our bark across the strait, leaving the broad and open sea.
For assuredly, if there ever was, or ever shall be, a trumpet, sounding far out upon the air, or a voice of God encompassing the world,
or some unheard-of and wondrous shaking of the earth, such was
his voice, such his intellect, as far transcending that of his fellows
as man excels the nature of the brute. Who more than he purified
his spirit, and thus qualified himself to unfold the Divine oracles?
Who, more brightly illuminated with the light of knowledge, has
explored the dark things of the spirit, and with the aid of God
surveyed the mysteries of God? And who has possessed a diction
that was a more perfect interpreter of his thoughts? Not with him
as with the majority, was there a failure, either of thought sustaining his diction, or of language keeping pace with thought: but
alike distinguished in both, he showed himself as an orator throughout, self-consistent and complete. It is the prerogative of the spirit
to search the deep things of God, not as ignorant, but as making the
survey with infinite ease and delight. But all the mysteries of the
spirit were profoundly investigated by Basil: and from these sources




FUNERAL ORATION  OVER BASIL                     69
he trained and disciplined the characters of all, taught loftiness of
speech, and, withdrawing men from the present, directed them to
the future. The sun is praised by the Psalmist for his beauty and
magnitude, for the swiftness and power of his course, resplendelt as
a bridegroom, mighty as a giant. His mighty circuit has power to
light equally the opposite extremes of the globe, the extent of their
diffusion lessens not the power of his beams. But the beauty of
Basil was virtue; his greatness, theology; his course, perpetual
activity, ever tending upward to God; his power, the sowing and
distribution of the word. Thus I need not hesitate to apply to him
the language which Paul, borrowing from David, applies to the
Apostles, that his sound went into all the earth, and the power of
his words to the extremities of the world. What other source of
pleasure at the present day in our assemblies?  What at our banquets? What in the forum? What in the churches? What constitutes the delight alike of magistrates and of private citizens, of
monks and of those who mingle in society, of men of business, and
of men of leisure, of the votaries of profane and of sacred science?
The one all-pervading and highest source of enjoyment is the
writings of Basil. Nay, even to writers, the sole material of their
works, since he is found in his productions. The ancient commentaries on the Divine records cease to be heard: the Dew take
their place: and he stands first in sacred eloquence who best knows
his writing, and most frequently utters his language in our ears. A
single man suffices as a substitute for all others to the training of the
studious. I mention but'this single instance. When I explore the
pages or repeat the words of his Hexemeron, I am brought into
union with the Creator; I understand the laws of the creation; and,
employing only the sense of sight as my teacher, I admire more
than ever before the Creator. When I read his books against the
heretics, I see the fires of Sodom, by which men of impious and
lawless tongue are reduced to ashes, or the Tower of Babel, reared
in wickedness and righteously overthrown. When I read his
writings on the Spirit, I find the God whom I possess reveals Himself. I declare the truth with boldness, treading in the path of His
Divine contemplations. When I meet with the other exhibitions of
truth which, for those if dull intellect, he sets forth in a threefold
way, impressing them on the solid tablets of his heart, I am persuaded to stay no longer with the letter, nor to rest my look merely
on the surface; but to pass beyond, to go on from depth to depth,
amid light still discovering light, till I reach the utmost limit of
truth When I read his praises of the martyrs, the noble com.




70              GREGORY NAZIANZ EN.
batants for the faith, I am borne away by his praises, an I incited to
the same glorious championship. When I read his ethical and
practical discourses, I purify myself in soul and body, and seek to
become a fitting temple of God, an instrument played upon by the
Spirit, and hymning forth the divine power and glory. Thus am I
corrected and disciplined, and through successive stages transformed
with a Divine transformation.
And since I have spoken of Theology, and of his sublime mode
of treating it, I wish yet to add the following. For it is eminently
desirable that the multitude should not receive harm themselves by
cherishing wrong sentiments respecting him. And my remarks are
directed specially against those base persons who, by aspersing
others, pander to their own depravity. For in defense of sound
doctrine and the union and joint Godhead of the Sacred Trinity —or
by whatever still more direct and clearer term the doctrine may be
designated-he was ready not merely to sacrifice places of power to
which he never aspired, but to accept exile, death, and its preliminary tortures, not as evil, but as gain. Witness, in proof, what he
has actually endured. When condemned to banishment for the
truth, he merely bade one of his attendants take up his writing
tablets and follow him. But following the counsel of David, he
deemed it necessary to exercise prudence in the mere use of
language, and thus, during the crisis of war and the reign of heresy,
to forbear a little until the season of free and independent speeclh
should be restored. They indeed aimed to assail the bare and naked
declaration of the Godhead of the Spirit (a truth deemed impious by
them and by their nefarious leader in impiety), in order that, banishing him and his religious teachings from the city, they might
take possession of the Church, and making it the fortress and stronghold of their wickedness, thence, as from a citadel, overrun and devastate the whole field of truth. He, meanwhile, by other Scripture
terms, and unambiguous testimonies having the same import, as well
as by unanswerable reasonings, so swayed his opponents that they
were impotent to assail him, and-which is the highest triumph of
power and skill in argument-were held fast in the fetters of their
own chosen expressions. Take in proof his discourse on the subject
in M hich he moved his pen as under the very impulse of the Spirit.
The specific term, nevertheless, he forbore for a time tc use, guided
by the Spirit himself, and begging his fellow-champions of the faith
not to be displeased at his proceeding, nor, amid the temporary distractions of the faith, sacrifice all by tenacious adherence to a word.
To them, he said, no harm would accrue by a slight change of terms,




FUNERAL ORATION OVER BASIL.                  71
the same truth being conveyed in other language. For their safety
did not lie in words rather than in things; nor would even the
Jewish people have been rejected had they, substituting the term
anointed for that of Christ, been willing to rank themselves among
His followers. But to the whole Christian body it would be a
source of infinite harm that the Church should be seized by heretics.
Such were the grounds of his apparent temporizing. For that he
held with the profoundest conviction to the divinity of the Spirit is
clear, from his publicly proclaiming the doctrine on every occasion,
and unhesitatingly avowing it when interrogated in private. And
in his communications to me, from whom he concealed nothing, he
has spoken yet more clearly, not only affirming it, but in an unwonted manner imprecating upon himself the fearful doom of being
abandoned of the Spirit if he failed to worship Him as equal in
essence and honor with the Father and the Son. It is not for the
sake of defending his reputation that I have made these statements;
for he is superior to all accusations. It is rather that none, regarding the terms employed by him as the law and limit of orthodoxy,
may have their faith shaken; that none may pervert his mode of
discussion, produced by stress of circumstances and with the sanction of the Spirit, to the strengthening of their own wickedness;
but rather that, weighing the import and aim of his words, they may
be drawn to the truth, and may seal the lips of the impious. To
me and to all who are dear to me, may his doctrines be an inheritance. Such is my conviction of his purity in this matter, that
in this as in other things, I would gladly unite my lot to his, and
ask a common judgment alike from God and from all impartial men.
None surely would affirm that the Evangelists conflict with each
other, because some have dwelt upon the humanity of Christ, others
attempted the heights of His divinity; some have taken their departure from His earthly, others from His heavenly origin. For by
their varying representations they have met the wants of those
whom they addressed, being informed and actuated by the Spirit
that dwelt in them.
But now, there having arisen both in ancient and recent times,
many men distinguished for piety, lawgivers, generals, prophets,
teachers, valiant even to the shedding of their blood, let us compare
our Basil with them, and thus learn better to estimate his virtues.
Adam was deemed worthy of the fashioning hand of God, the delights of Paradise, and the first giving of the law. But to say
nothing irreverent of our great ancestor, he failed to keep the com,
mandment. But Basil both received and kept it, was unharmed by




72               GREGORY NAZIANZEN.
the tree of knowledge, and passing by the flaming sword, has, I am
well assured, inherited Paradise. Enos first had confidence to rall
upon the Lord: Basil both himself invoked Him, and, what is yet
more honorable, proclaimed Him to others. Enoch was translated
as a reward for an imperfect piety (for his faith was yet amid
shadows), and thus escaped the perils of after life: Basil's entire
life was a translation, and he was proved to the end in a completed
life. Noah was intrusted with the ark, and with the seeds of a new
world, committed to a small vessel, and preserved amid the waters:
Basil escaped a deluge of impiety, rendered his own city an ark of
safety that floated lightly above the waves of heresy, and thus reclaimed the entire world.  Abraham  was illustrious, at once a
Patriarch and the Priest of a new sacrifice, offering to Him who had
bestowed it the child of promise, hastening, a ready and cheerful
victim, to the altar. But not slight was the offering of Basil, who
offered himself unto God, and that with no substitute interposed to
prevent the sacred rite from being consummated. Isaac was promised
before his birth: but Basil voluntarily proffered himself; and his
bride, the Church, he wooed not from afar but near at hand, not
through the ministry of servants, but confided to him by the immediate hand of God. Nor was he overreached in assigning the precedence to his children; but such awards as reason and the Spirit
d.ctated he allotted to each according to their deserts. I commend
the ladder of Jacob, the pillar which he anointed to God, and that
wrestling with him which was but the confronting of human weakness with the Divine Majesty, and whence he bears the tokens of a
vanquished nature. I praise also his skillful continence with respect to the flocks of Laban, the twelve patriarchs his offspring, and
the sublime prophetic foresight with which he bestowed on them
nis dying benediction. But in Basil I praise the ladder, not merely
seen, but ascended by successive advances in virtue; the pillar
which he did not anoint, but reared to God, a monument of the
eternal infamy of the impious; his wrestling not against God but
for Him, while he overthrew the doctrines of the heretics; the pas
toral skill by which he gained over, as spiritual wealth, a large
portion of his flock; the multitude of his children divinely begotten; and the blessing with which he established many. *
Gather yourselves around me now, all ye his train; ye who bear
office, and ye of lower rank; ye who are within, and ye who are
without our pale, and aid me in celebrating his praises. Let ab
severally recount and extol his virtues. Princes extol the lawgiver.




FUNERAL ORATI10N  OVER BASIL.                  73
statesmen, the statesman; citizens, the orderly and exemplary citi.
zen; votaries of learning, the instructor; virgins, the patron of
wedlock; wives, the teacher of chastity. Let the solitary commemo
rate him who lends them wings for their flight; the men of society,
the judge; the simple-minded, the guide; those given to speculation, the theologian; those in prosperity, the curber of pride; those
in affliction, the consoler; age, its staff; youth, its guardian; poverty,
its provider; abundance, its steward and dispenser. Methinks I
hear the widows praising their protector; orphans, their father; the
poor, the friend of poverty; strangers, the lover of hospitality;
brethren, the brotherly-minded; the sick, the physician; the well,
the preserver and guardian of health; all, in short, praise him
who became all things to all that he might, if possible, gain all.
This tribute, 0 Basil, is offered to thee from a tongue once most
delightful to thee, and which shared in thy honor and companionship. If it approaches thy deserts, to thee be the thanks, for confiding in thee I entered on this discourse. But if it fall far below
thy merits and my hopes, it will be pardoned to one who is worn
by age, disease, and sorrow for thee. But God accepts according to
our ability. But do thou, 0 divine and sainted one, look upon us
from above, and that scourge of our flesh which God has sent for
our discipline, do thou remove by thine intercessions, or persuade
us to bear with patience, and direct our entire life to that which
shall be most for our profit. And when we depart hence, may we
be received into thine own abodes, that living together, and together
surveying more purely and perfectly the Holy and Blessed Trinity,
whose image we have but faintly received here, we may have our
longings satisfied, and find a recompense for all our conflicts in propagation or defense of the truth. To thee, therefore, this tribute is
rendered by us; but who shall render a like service to us, lingering
in life after thee, if indeed we achieve any thing worthy of com.
mendation in Jesus Christ, our Lord, to whom be glory forever.
Amen.




DISCOURSE SIXTH
B ASIL THE GREAT.
THIS distinguished ecclesiastic was born in 329, at Cesarea, Lo Cappal
docia, and was called the Great to distinguish him from other Greek
patriarchs of the same name. After completing his studies at Athens,
for a time he taught rhetoric and practiced law. In 370 he was made
Bishop of Cesarea, where he died in 379. Basil's first religious instruction was from his grandmother, Marina, a hearer and admirer of one of
the Gregories. He was decidedly ascetic in his cast of mind and habits,
and became a zealous monk, the habits of which order he continued, to
a great extent, even when filling his highest official position. Nevertheless he was active and efficient, and did much to reform the morals of
the clergy, and establish discipline in the churches. He also offered successful resistance to the tyranny of the Emperor Valens, to whose threats
he replied that he had nothing to fear, possessions he had none except a
few books, and his cloak; an exile was no exile for him since the whole
earth was the Lord's; and if tortured, his feeble body would yield to the
first blows, and death would bring him nearer to his God, for whom he
longed.
In point of genius, controversial skill, and a rich and flowing eloquence, Basil was excelled by very few in the fourth century. His
works that remain are numerous, consisting of discourses, homilies, epistles, tracts, etc. Some of them are marked by classical purity and flexibility of style, such as is rarely attained; and, taken together, they prove
their author to have been a fine belles lettres scholar, an elegant writer,
and good reasoner, notwithstanding the gloomy austerity of his monastic disposition. The production which follows is an epistle or address,
directed to one who had renounced her vows of celibacy, and entered
the marriage relation. It is chosen instead of some one of the set discourses (for it is itself a discourse to a single individual) because of its
celebrity as a specimen of eloquence. Of course, fully to appreciate it,
we should endeavor to occupy the author's stand-point, and conceive of
his mistaken, but perhaps honest convictions as to the advantages and
peculiar sanctity of the single life, and the guilt and fearful consequences
of its abandonment when once the vows of virginity had been assumed,




ADMONITION  TO THE FALLEN.                     75
To us the occasion seems unworthy to call forth such an effusion of
tempered rebuke, ingenious argument, and lofty appeal; but this does
not detract from its real merit as a production to move the mind.
F6nelon says of it, in his Dialogues concerning eloquence, "There is
nothing more eloquent; in my opinion, it is a masterpiece." As will
be seen by a careful analysis, it possesses the essential parts of an ordi.
nary discourse: first, the occasion of rebuke; second, the nature anul
aggravated features of the crime alleged; third, the remedy; fourth,
persuasives to its adoption.
ADMONITION TO THE FALLEN.
It is time, now, to take up the exclamation of the prophet: 0 than
my head were waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep
for the wounded * of the daughter of my people / —Jeremiah 9: 1.
For, although theyt are wrapped in profound silence, and lie quite
stupified by their calamity, and deprived, by their deadly wound,
even of the very sense of suffering, yet it does not become us to
withhold our tears over so sad a fall. For if Jeremiah deemed those
worthy of countless lamentations who had received bodily wounds
in battle, what shall we say when souls are involved in so great a
calamity? " Thy wounded," says the prophet, " are not wounded
with the sword, and thy dead are not the dead of war." But my
lamentation is for grievous sin, the sting of the true death, and for
the fiery darts of the wicked, which have cruelly kindled a flame in
both body and soul. Well might the laws of God groan within
themselves, beholding such pollution on earth, those laws which always utter their loud prohibition, saying in olden time, Thou shalt
not covet thy neighbor's wde; and in the Gospels, That whosoever looketh
on a woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her already
in his heart. But now they behold the very bride of the Lord-her
of whom Christ is the head-committing adultery without fear or
shame. Yes, the very spirits of departed saints may well groan, the
zealous Phineas, that it is not permitted to him now to snatch the spear
and to punish the loathsome sin with a summary corporeal vengeance, and John the Baptist, that he can not now leave the celestial
abodes, as he once left the wilderness, and hasten to rebuke the
transgression, and if the sacrifice were called for, to lay down his
head sooner than abate the severity of bis reproof. Nay, let us
* So it reads in the Sept.         t L e. the wounded.




76                 BASIL THE GREAT.
rather say that: like blessed Abel, John being dead yet speaketh, and
now lifts up his voice with a yet louder cry than in the case of Herodias, saying, It is not lawful for thee to have her. For, although the
body of John, yielding to the inevitable sentence of God, has paid
the debt of nature, and his tongue is silent, yet the word of God is
not bound. And he who, when the marriage covenant had been
-iolated in the case of a fellow servant, was faithful even unto death
with his stern reproofs, what must he have felt if he had seen the
holy bride-chamber of the Lord thus wantonly outraged?
But as for thee, 0 thou who hast thus cast off the yoke of that
divine union, and deserted the undefiled chamber of the true King,
and shamefully fallen into this disgraceful and impious defilement,
since thou hast no way of evading this bitter charge, and no method
or artifice can avail to conceal thy fearful crime, thou boldly harden.
est thyself in guilt. And as he who has once fallen into the abyss
of crime becomes henceforth an impious despiser, so thou deniest
thy very covenant with the true bridegroom; alleging that thou
wast not a virgin, and hadst never taken the vow, although thou
hast both received and given many pledgesof virginity. Remember
the good confession which thou hast made before God, and angels,
and men. Remember that venerable assembly, and the sacred choir
of virgins, and the congregation of the Lord, and the Church of the
saints. Remember thy aged grandmother in Christ, whose Christian
virtues still flourish in the vigor of youth; and thy mother in the
Lord, who vies with the former, and strives by new and unwonted
endeavors to dissolve the bands of custom; and thy sister likewise,
in some things their imitator, and in some aspiring to excel them,
and to surpass in the merits of virginity the attainments of her progenitors, and both in word and deed diligently inviting thee, her
sister, as is meet, to the same competition. Remember these, and the
angelic company associated with them in the service of the Lord,
and the spiritual life though yet in the flesh, and the heavenly converse upon earth. Remember the tranquil days and the luminous
nights, and the spiritual songs, and the melodious psalmody, and
the holy prayers, and the chaste and undefiled couch, and the progress in virginal purity, and the temperate diet so helpful in preserving thy virginity uncontaminated. And where is now that grave
deportment, and that modest mien, and that plain attire which so
becomes a virgin, and that beautiful blush of bashfulness, and that
comely paleness-the delicate bloom of abstinence and vigils, that
outshines every ruddier glow. How often in prayer that thou
mightest keep unspotted thy virginal purity hast thou poured forth




ADMONITION  TO THE FALLEN.                    77
thy tears! How many letters hast thou indited to holy men, implor
ing their prayers, not that thou mightest obtain these human —nup.
tials, shall I call them? rather this dishonorable defilement-but that
thou mightest not fall away from the Lord Jesus? How often hast
thou received the gifts of the spouse I And why should I mention
also the honors accorded for his sake by those who are his-the
companionship of the virgins, journeyings with them, welcomes from
them, encomiums of virginity, blessings bestowed by virgins, letters
addressed to thee as to a virgin! But now, having been just breathed
upon by the aerial spirit that worketh in the children of disobedience, thou hast denied all these, and hast bartered that precious
and enviable possession for a brief pleasure, which is sweet to thy
taste for a moment, but which afterward thou will find bitterer than
gall.
Besides all this, who can avoid exclaiming with grief, "How is
Zion, the faithful city, become an harlot."  Nay, does not the Lord
Himself say to some who now walk in the spirit of Jeremiah, " Hast
thou seen what the virgin of Israel hath done unto me?" "I betrothed her unto me in faith and purity, in righteousness and in
judgment, and in loving-kindness and in mercies," even as I promised her by Hosea the prophet. But she has loved strangers; and
even while I her husband lived, she has made herself an adulteress,
and has not feared to become the wife of another husband. And
what would the bride's guardian and conductor say, the divine and
blessed Paul! Both the ancient Apostle, and this modern one,* under whose auspices and instruction thou didst leave thy father's
house, and join thyself to the Lord? Would not each, filled with
grief at the great calamity, say, " The thing which I greatly feared
has come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto
me," for "I espoused you unto one husband, that I might present
you as a chaste virgin to Christ;" and I was always fearful, lest in
some way as the serpent beguiled Eve by his subtilty, so thy mind
should sometime be corrupted. And on this account I always endeavored, like a skillful charmer, by innumerable incantations, to
suppress the tumult of the passions, and by a thousand safeguards
to secure the bride of the Lord, rehearsing again and again the manner of life of her who is unmarried, how that she only "careth for
the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in
spirit;" and I set forth the honor of virginity, calling thee the
* It would appear that the priest who administered to her the vow of celibacy and
chastity was also named Paul.




78                 BASIL THE GREAT.
temple of God, that I might add wings to thy zeal, and help thee
upward to Jesus; and I also had recourse to the fear of evil, to prevent thee from falling, telling thee that " if any man defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy." I also added the assistance
of my prayers, that if possible, "thy whole body, and soul, and
spirit might be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord'esus Christ." But all this labor I have spent in vain upon thee;
and those sweet toils have ended in a bitter disappointment; and
now I must again groan over her of whom I ought to have joy.
For lo, thou hast been beguiled by the serpent more bitterly than
Eve; for not only has thy mind become defiled, but with it thy
very body also: and what is still more horrible-I dread to say it,
but I can not suppress it; for it is as fire burning and blazing in
my bones, and I am dissolving in every part and can not endure
it —thou hast taken the members of Christ, and made them the
members of a harlot. This is incomparably the greatest evil of all:
this is a new crime in the world, to which we may apply the words
of the prophet, "Pass over the isles of Chittim, and see; and send
unto Kedar, and consider diligently, and see if there be such a
thing. Hath a nation changed their gods, which are yet no gods?"
For the virgin hath changed her glory, and now glories in her
shame. The heavens are astonished at this, and the earth trembleth
very exceedingly. Now also the Lord says, the virgin hath committed two evils, she hath forsaken me, the true and holy bridegroom of sanctified souls, and hath fled to an impious and lawless
polluter of the body, and corrupter of the soul. She hath turned
away from God her Saviour, and hath yielded her members servants
to impurity and iniquity: she hath forgotten me, and gone after her
lover, by whom she shall not profit.
It were better for him that a mill-stone were hanged about his
neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should cause one of the
Lord's virgins to offend. What impudent servant ever carried his
insane audacity so far as to fling himself upon the couch of his
lord? Or what robber has ever become so madly hardened as to
lay hands upon the very offerings devoted to God?-but here it is
not inanimate vessels, but living bodies, inhabited by souls made in
the image of God. Since the beginning of the world was any one
ever heard of, who dared, in the midst of a great city, in broad
mid-day, to deface the likeness of a king by inscribing upon it the
forms of filthy swine? He that despises human nuptials dies without mercy under two or three witnesses; of how much sorer punishmelt, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy who hath trodden




ADMONITION TO THE FALLEN.                    79
undei foot the Son of God, and defiled his espoused wife, and done
despit, to the spirit of virginity?
But after all this, " shall they fall and not arise? shall he turn away
and not return?" Why hath the virgin turned away in so shameless an apostasy H?-and that too after having heard Christ the bridegroom, eaying by Jeremiah, "And I said, after she had lewdly done
all these things, turn thou unto me. But she returned not." " Is
there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then,
is not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?" Truly
thou mightst find in the Divine Scriptures many remedies for such
an evil-rhany medicines that recover from perdition and restore to
life; mysterious words about death and resurrection, a dreadful
judlgment, and everlasting punishment; the doctrines of repentance
and remission of sins; those innumerable examples of conversion
— the piece of silver, the lost sheep, the son that had devoured his
living with harlots, that was lost and found, that was dead and alive
again. - Let us use these remedies for the evil; with these let us
heal our souls. Think, too, of thy last day (for thou art not to live
always, more than others), of the distress, and the anguish, as the
hour of death draws nearer, of the impending sentence of God, of
the angels moving on rapid wing, of the soul fearfully agitated by
all these things, and bitterly tormented with a guilty conscience, and
clinging pitifully to the things here below, and still under the inevitabie necessity of taking its departure. Picture to thy mind the
final dissolution of all that belongs to our present life, when the
Son of man shall come in his glory, with his holy angels: for He
"shall come, and shall not keep silence," when he shall come to
judge the living and the dead, and to render to every man according to his work: when the trumpet, with its loud and terrible echo,
shall awaken those who have slept from the beginning of the world,
and they shall come forth, they that have done good to the resurrection of the life, and they that have done evil to the resurrection
of damnation. Remember the divine vision of Daniel, how he
brings the judgment before our eyes. " I beheld," says he, " till the
thrones were placed, and the Ancient of days did sit, whose garment
was white as snow, and the hair of his head like the pure wool: his
throne was like the fiery flame, and his wheels as burning fire. A
fiery stream issued and came forth from before him: thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand
stood before him: the judgment was set, and the books were
opened," revealing all at once in the hearing of all men and all




so                  BASIL THE GREAT.
angels, all things whether good or bad, open or secret, deeds: words
thoughts. What effect must all these things have on those wno
have lived viciously? Where, then, shall the soul, thus suddenly
revealed in all the fullness of its shame in the eyes of such a multitude of spectators —0, where shall it hide itself? In what body
can it endure those unbounded and intolerable torments of the unquenchable fire, and the tortures of the undying worm, and the
dark and frightful abyss of hell, and the bitter howlings, and woeful
wailings, and weeping and gnashing of teeth; and all these dire
woes without end. Deliverance from these after death there is
none; neither is there any device, nor contrivance for escaping
these bitter torments.
But now it is possible to escape them. Now then, while it is possible, let us recover ourselves from our fall, let us not despair of
restoration, if we break loose from our vices. Jesus Christ came
into the world to save sinners. " O, come let us worship and bow
down," let us weep before him. His word, calling us to repentance, lifts up its voice and cries aloud, " Come unto me all ye that
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." There is
then a way to be saved, if we will. Death has prevailed and swallowed us up; but be assured, that God will wipe away every tear
from the face of every penitent. The Lord is faithful in all His
words. He does not lie, when he says, "Though your sins be as
scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they be red like
crimson, they shall be as wool." The great Physician of souls is
ready to heal thy disease; He is the prompt Deliverer, not of thee
alone, but of all who are in bondage to sin. These are His words
-His sweet and life-giving lips pronounced them-" They that be
whole need not a physician, but they that are sick. I am not come
to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." What excuse then
remains to thee, or to any one else, when He utters such language
as this? The Lord is willing to heal thy painful wound, and to enlighten thy darkness. The Good Shepherd leaves the sheep whc
have not strayed, to seek for thee. If thou give thyself up to Him, He
will not delay, He in His mercy will not disdain to carry thee upon
His own shoulders, rejoicing that He has found His sheep which
was lost. The Father stands waiting thy return from thy wanders
ings. Only arise and come, and whilst thou art yet a great way off
He will run and fall upon thy neck; and, purified at once by thy
repentance, thou shalt be enfolded in the embraces of His friendship. He will put the best robe on thy soul, when it has put off
the old man with his deeds: He will put a ring on thy hands when




ADMONITION TO THE FALLEN.                   81
they have been washed from the blood of death: He will put shoes
on thy feet, when they have turned from the evil way to the path
of the gospel of peace; and He will proclaim a day of joy and
gladness, to the whole family of both angels and men, and will celebrate thy salvation with every form of rejoicing. For He Himself
says, "Verily I say unto you, that joy shall be in heaven before
God over one sinner that repenteth." And if any of those that
stand by should seem to find fault, because thou art so quickly
received, the good Father Himself will plead for thee, saying, "It
was meet that we should make merry and be glad; for this my
daughter was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found"
6




DISCOURSE SEVENTH
CHRY SOSTOM.
JonIN, called, for at least the last twelve centuries Chrysostom (golden
mouthed), was the brightest ornament of the ancient Greek churches:
He was born, probably about the year 347, at Antioch, in Syria, where
he spent most of his public life. Owing to the early death of his father,
Anthusa, his pious mother, had the sole charge of his first religious in.
struction, and did much to form that character for which he was so
highly distinguished. He was educated for the profession of the law,
and had, among other instructors, the famous rhetorician, Libanius, the
friend of Julian the Apostate; who, on being asked, when about to die,
as to who could be found competent to succeed him, answered, "John,
if the Christians had not stolen him away." Distinguished as a scholar,
he was also early pious; and, entering the ministry, began to preach at
the age of thirty-one. He was made Patriarch of Constantinople in 398.
But his preaching was too pungent, and his life and discipline too strict,
for that corrupt metropolis; and, incurring the displeasure of the empress,
the lax clergy, and many of the courtiers, he was deposed and banished
for alleged contumacy; and though returned for a brief period at the
tumultuous call of his people, he was soon again forcibly removed to
Pityus, in Colchis, but died on the road thither, the 14th of September,
407, with his favorite expression on his lips, "God be praisedfor every
th ing." For overpowering popular eloquence, Chrysostom had no equal
amlong the fathers. He has been called the Homer of orators. Ferra.
rius quotes Suidas, as saying that Chrysostom had a tongue flowing like
the Vile: and when he was banished, his people said, that "it were
better that the saen should cease to shine, than that his mouth should be
shut.' Gibbon's testimony to his eloquence (Decline and Fall of the
Roman Empire, period 398-403) is worthy of particular note, especially,
considering its source. Speaking of the various works that remain of
this father, the principal of which are about one thousand sermons or
homilies, he says, they authorize the critics to appreciate his genuine
merit: and that they unanimously attribute to him "the free command
of an elegant and copious language; the judgment to conceal the advan.
tages which he derived from the knowledge of rhetoric and philosophy




EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH  OF FRIENDS. 83
an inexhaustible fund of metaphors and similitudes, of ideas and images,
to vary and illustrate the most familiar topics; the happy art of engaging
the passions in the service of virtue; and of exposing the folly as well as
the turpitude of vice, almost with the truth and spirit of a dramatic reml
resentation."
The discourse which is here given is one of a series of seven sermons
on Lazarus, and is regarded as one of his best productions. It is obvious
that some of its beauty must be lost from the want of the elegance and
fluency of his Greek style, but the Editor is happy to believe that it
is in a great measure retained in the following translation.
EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF FRIENDS.
"' But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep,
that ye sorrow not."-1 Thess. iv. 13.
We have occupied four days in explaining to you the parable of
Lazarus, bringing out the treasure that we found in a body covered
with sores; a treasure, not of gold and silver and precious stones,
but of wisdom and fortitude, of patience and endurance. For as in
regard to visible treasures, while the surface of the ground shows
only thorns and briars, and rough earth, yet, let a person dig deep,
abundant wealth discovers itself; so it has proved in respect to Laz
arus. Outwardly, wounds; but underneath these, unspeakable
wealth; a body pined away, but a noble and wakeful spirit. We
have also seen an illustration of that remark of the apostle's —as
much as the outward man perishes, so much the inward man is
renewed.
It would, indeed, be proper to address you to-day, also, on this
same parable, and to enter the lists with those heretics who censure
the Old Testament, bringing accusations against the patriarchs, and
whetting their tongues against God, the Creator of the universe.
But to avoid satiety, and reserving this controversy for another
time, let us direct the discourse to another subject; for a table with
only one sort of food produces satiety, while variety provokes the
appetite. That it may be so in regard to our preaching, let us now,
after a long period, turn to the blessed Paul; for very opportunely
has a passage from the Apostle been read to-day, and the things
which are to be spoken concerning it are harmonious with those that




834                   CHRYSOSTOM.
have lately been presented. Hear, then, Paul this day proclaiming
-I would not have you to be ignorant concerning them which are
asleep, that ye sorrow not even as others which have no hope. The
parable of Lazarus is the evangelical chord; this passage is the
apostolic note. And there is concord between them; for we have,
on that parable, said much concerning the resurrection and the future
judgment, and our discourse now recurs to that theme; so that,
though it is on apostolic ground we are now toiling, we shall here
find the same treasure. For in treating the parable, our aim was to
teach the hearers this lesson, that they should regard all the splendors of the present life as nothing, but should look forward in their
hopes, and daily reflect on the decisions which will be hereafter pronounced, and on that fearful judgment, and that Judge who can not
be deceived. On these things Paul has counseled us to-day in the
passages which have been read to us. Attend, however, to his own
words-I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning
them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which
have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again,
even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him —
1 Thess. iv. 13, 14.
We ought here, at the outset, to inquire why, when he is speaking
concerning Christ, he employs the word death; but when he is
speaking of our decease he calls it sleep, and not death. For he did
not say, Concerning them that are dead: but what did he say?
Concerning them that are asleep. And again-Even so them also
which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him. He did not say,
Them that have died. Still again-We who are alive and remain
unto the coming of the Lord shall not go before them that sleep.
Here, too, he did not say-Them that are dead; but a third time,'bringing the subject to their remembrance, he for the third time
called death a sleep. Concerning Christ, however, he did not speak
thus: but how?  For if we believe that Jesus died. He did not
say, Jesus slept, but He died. Why now did he use the term death
in reference to Christ, but in reference to us the term sleep? For it
was not casually, or negligently, that he employed this expression,
but he had a wise and great purpose in so doing. In speaking of
Christ, he said death, so as to confirm the fact that Christ had actually suffered death; in speaking of us, he said sleep, in order to
impart consolation. For where a resurrection had already taken
place, he mentions death with plainness; but where the resurrection
is still a matter of hope, he says sleep, consoling us by this very expression, and cherishing our valuable hopes. For he who is on) y




EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH  OF FRIENDS. S5
asleep, will surely awake; and death is no more than a long
sleep.
Say not, a dead man hears not, nor speaks, nor sees, nor is conscious. It is just so with a sleeping person. If I may speak somewhat paradoxically, even the soul of a sleeping person is in some
sort asleep; but not so the soul of a dead man; that is awake.
But you say, a dead man experiences corruption, and becomes dust
and ashes. And what then, beloved hearers? For this very reason
we ought to rejoice. For when a man is about to rebuild an old
and tottering house, he first sends out its occupants, then tears it
down, and rebuilds anew a more splendid one. This occasions no
grief to the occupants, but rather joy; for they do not think of the
demolition which they see, but of the house which is to come, though
not yet seen. When God is about to do a similar work, he destroys
our body, and removes the soul which was dwelling in it as from
some house, that he may build it anew and more splendidly, and
again bring the soul into it with greater glory. Let us not, therefore, regard the tearing down, but the splendor which is to succeed.
If, again, a man has a statue decayed by rust and age, and muti
lated in many of its parts, he breaks it up and casts it into a furnace,
and after the melting he receives it again in a more beautiful form.
As then the dissolving in the furnace was not a destruction but a
renewing of the statue, so the death of our bodies is not a destruo
tion but a renovation. When, therefore, you see as in a furnace
our flesh flowing away to corruption, dwell not on that sight, but
wait for the recasting. And be not satisfied with the extent of this
illustration, but advance in your thoughts to a still higher point;
for the statuary, casting into the furnace a brazen image, does not
furnish you in its place a golden and undecaying statue, but again
makes a brazen one. God does not thus; but casting in a mortal
body formed of clay, he returns to you a golden and immortal
statue; for the earth, receiving a corruptible and decaying body,
gives back the same, incorruptible and undecaying.  Look not,
therefore, on the corpse, lying with closed eyes and speechless lips,
but on the man that is risen, that has received glory unspeakable
and amazing, and direct your thoughts from the present sight to the
future hope.
But do you miss his society, and therefore lament and mourn?
Now is it not unreasonable, that, if you should have given your
laughter in marriage, and her husband should take her to a distant
country and should there enjoy prosperity, you would not think the
circumstance a calamity, but the intelligence of their prosperity




36                    C HRYSOST O M.
would console the sorrow occasioned by her absence; and yet here,
while it is not a man, nor a fellow-servant, but the Lord himself who
has taken your relative, that you should grieve and lament?
And how is it possible, you ask, not to grieve, since I am only a
man? Nor do I say that you should not grieve:'I do not condemn
dejection, but the intensity of it. To be dejected is natural; but to
be overcome by dejection is madness, and folly, and unmanly weakness. You may grieve and weep; but give not way to despondency, nor indulge in complaints. Give thanks to God, who has
taken your friend, that you have the opportunity of honoring the
departed one, and of dismissing him with becoming obsequies. If
you sink under depression, you withhold honor from the departed,
you displease God who has zaken him, and you injure yourself; but
if you are grateful, you pay respect to him, you glorify God, and
you benefit yourself. Weep, as wept your master over Lazarus,
observing the just limits of sorrow, which it is not proper to pass.
Thus also said Paul-I would not have you to be ignorant concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not as others who have
no hope. Grieve, says he; but not as the Greek, who has no hope
of a resurrection, who despairs of a future life.
Believe me, I am ashamed and blush to see unbecoming groups
of women pass along the mart, tearing their hair, cutting their arms
and cheeks-and all this under the eyes of the Greeks. For what
will they not say? What will they not utter concerning us? Are
these the men who philosophize about a resurrection? IndeedI
How poorly their actions agree with their opinions! In words,
they philosophize about a resurrection: but they act just like those
who do not acknowledge a resurrection. If they fully believed in a
resurrection, they would not act thus; if they had really persuaded
themselves that a deceased friend had departed to a better state, they
would not thus mourn. These things, and more than these, the
unbelievers say when they hear those lamentations. Let us then
be ashamed, and be more moderate, and not occasion so much harm
to ourselves and to those who are looking on us.
For on what account, tell me, do you thus weep for one departed?
Because he was a bad man? You ought on that very account to
be thankful, since the occasions of wickedness are now cut off. Because he was good and kind? If so, you ought to rejoice; since
he has been soon removed, before wickedness had corrupted him.
and he has gone away to a world where he stands ever secure, and
there is no room even to mistrust a change. Because he was a
youth? For that, too, praise Him that has taken him, because he




EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH  OF FRIENDS. 87
has speedily called him to a better lot. Because he was an aged
man? On this account, also, give thanks and glorify Him that has
taken him. Be ashamed of your manner of burial. The singing
of psalms, the prayers, the assembling of the [spiritual] fathers and
brethren-all this is not that you may weep, and lament, and afflict
yourselves, but that you may render thanks to Him who has taken
he departed. For as when men are called to some high office,
multitudes with praises on their lips assemble to escort them at their
departure to their stations, so do all with abundant praise join to
send forward, as to greater honor, those of the pious who have departed. Death is rest, a deliverance from the exhausting labors and
cares of this world. When, then, thou seest a relative departing,
yield not to despondency; give thyself to reflection; examine thy
conscience; cherish the thought that after a little while this end
awaits thee also. Be more considerate; let another's death excite
thee to salutary fear; shake off all indolence; examine your past
deeds; quit your sins, and commence a happy change.
We differ from unbelievers in our estimate of things. The unbeliever surveys the heavens and worships it, because he thinks it a
divinity; he looks to the earth and makes himself a servant to it,
and longs for the things of sense. But not so with us. We survey
the heaven, and admire him that made it; for we believe it not to
be a god, but a work of God. I look on the whole creation, and am
led by it to the Creator. He looks on wealth, and longs for it with
earnest desire; I look on wealth, and contemn it. He sees poverty,
and laments; I see poverty, and rejoice. I see things in one light;
he in another. Just so in regard to death. He sees a corpse, and
thinks of it as a corpse; I see a corpse, and behold sleep rather than
death. And as in regard to books, both learned persons and unlearned see them with the same eyes, but not with the same under.
standing-for to the unlearned the mere shapes of letters appear,
while the learned discover the sense that lies within those lettersso in respect to affairs in general, we all see what takes place with
the same eyes, but not with the same understanding and judgment.
Since, therefore, in all other things we differ from them, shall we
agree with them in our sentiments respecting death?
Consider to whom the departed has gone, and take comfort. He
has gone where Paul is, and Peter, and the whole company of the
saints. Consider how he shall arise, with what glory and splendor.
Consider, that by mourning and lamenting thou canst not alter trhe
event which has occurred, and that thou wilt in the end injure thy.
self. Consider whom you imitate uy so doing, and shun this com



88                    CHRYSOSTOM.
panionship in sin. For whom do you imitate and emulate? The
unbelieving, those who have no hope; as Paul has said-That ye
sorrow not, even as others who have no hope. And observe how
carefully he expresses himself; for he does not say, Those who have
not the hope of a resurrection, but simply, Those who have no hope.
He that has no hope of a future retribution has no hope at all, not
does he know that there is a God, nor that God exercises a provi.
dential care over present occurrences, nor that divine justice looks
on all things. But he that is thus ignorant and inconsiderate is more
unwise than a beast, and separates his soul from all good; for he
that does not expect to render an account of his deeds, cuts himself
loose from all virtue, and attaches himself to all vice. Considering
these things, therefore, and reflecting on the folly and stupidity of
the heathen, whose associates we become by our lamentations for
the dead, let us avoid this conformity to them. For the apostle
mentions them for this very purpose, that by considering the dishonor into which thou fallest, thou mightest recover thyself from
this conformity, and return to thy proper dignity.
And not only here, but every where and frequently, the blessed
Paul does the same. For when he would dissuade from sins, he
shows with whom we become associated by our sins, that, being
touched by the character of the persons, thou shouldest avoid such
companionship. To the Thessalonians, accordingly, he says-Let
every one keep his own body in sanctification and honor, not in the
lust of concupiscence, even as the Gentiles who know not God.
And again —Walk not as the other Gentiles in the vanity of their
mind. Thus also here-I would not have you to be ignorant,
brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not even
as others who have no hope. For it is not the nature of things, but
our own disposition, which makes us grieve; not the death of the
departed, but the weakness of those who mourn. * * * * *
We ought, therefore, to thank God not only for the. resurrection,
but also for the hope of it; which can comfort the afflicted soul, anlu
bid us be of good cheer concerning the departed, for they will again
rise and be with us. If we must have anguish, we should mourn
and lament over those who are living in sin, not over those who
have died righteously. Thus did Paul; for he says to the Corinthians-Lest when I come to you God shall humble me among you
and I shall bewail many. He was not speaking of those who had
died, but of those who had sinned and had not repented of the las.
civiousness and uncleanness which they had committed; over these
it was proper to mourn. So likewise another writer admonishes




EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF FRIENDS. 89
saying-Weep over the dead, for the light has failed; and weep
over the fool, for understanding has failed (Ecclus. 22: 10). Weep
a little for the dead; for he has gone to his rest; but the fool's life is
a greater calamity than death. And surely if one devoid of understanding is always a proper Tbject of lamentation, much more he
that is devoid of righteousness and that has fallen from hope toward
God. These, then, let us bewail; for such bewailing may be useful.
For often while lamenting these, we amend our own faults; but to
bewail the departed is senseless and hurtful. Let us not, then, reverse the order, but bewail only sin; and all other things, whether
poverty, or sickness, or untimely death, or calumny, or false accusation, or whatever human evil befalls us, let us resolutely bear them
all. For these calamities, if we are watchful, will be the occasions
of adding to our crowns.
But how is it possible, you ask, that a bereaved person, being a
man, should not grieve? On the contrary, I ask, how is it that
being a man he should grieve, since he is honored with reason and
with hopes of future good? Who is there, you ask again, that has
not been subdued by this weakness? Many, I reply, and in many
places, both among us and among those who have died before us.
Job, for instance; the whole circle of his children being taken away,
hear what he says:-The Lord gave; the Lord hath taken away; as
it seemed good to the Lord, so it has come to pass. A wonderful
instance, even when barely heard; but if you examine it closely,
your wonder will greatly increase.
For consider; Satan did not take merely half and leave half, or
take the larger number and leave the rest; but he gathered all the
fruit, and yet did not prevail to uproot the tree; he covered the
whole sea with waves, and yet did not overwhelm the bark; he
despoiled the tower of its strength, and yet could not batter it down.
Job stood firm, though assailed from every quarter; showers of arrows fell, but they did not wound him. Consider how great a thing
it was, to see so many children perish. Was it not enough to pierce
him to the quick that they should all be snatched away? all together and in one day? in the flower of life? having shown so much
virtue? expiring as by a stroke of vengeance? that after so many
sorrows this last should be inflicted? that the father was fond of
them, and that the deceased were worthy of his affection? When
one loses vicious children, he does indeed suffer grief, but yet not
intense grief; for the wickedness of the departed does not allow the
sorrow to be poignant. But when they are virtuous, an abiding
wound is inflicted, the remembrance is indelible, the calamity is in.




90                    CHRYSOSTOM.
consolable; there is a double sting, from nature, and from the vir
tuous character of the departed.
That Job's children were virtuous, appears from the fact that their
father was particularly solicitous in regard to them, and rising up
offered sacrifices in their behalf, fearing lest they might have committed secret sins; and nothing was more important in his esteem
than this. Not only the virtue of the children is thus shown, but
also the affectionate spirit of the father. Since, therefore, the father
was so affectionate, showing not only a love for them which proceeded from nature, but that also which came from their piety, and
since the departed were thus virtuous, the anguish had a threefold
intensity. Still further; when children are torn away separately,
the suffering has some consolation; for those that are left alleviate
the sorrow over the departed; but when the whole circle is gone,
to what one of all his numerous children can the childless man now
look?
Besides these causes of sorrow, there was a fifth stroke. What
was that? That they were all snatched away at once. For if in
the case of those who die after three or five days' sickness, the women and all the relatives bewail this most of all, that the deceased
was taken away from their sight speedily and suddenly, much more
might he have been distressed, when thus deprived of all, not in
three days, or two, or one, but in one hour i For a calamity long
thought of, even if it be hard to bear, may easily become light
through anticipation; but that which happens contrary to expectation and suddenly is intolerable.
Would you hear of a sixth stroke? He lost them all in the very
flower of their age. You know how very piercing are untimely
deaths, and productive of very diversified grief. The instance we
are contemplating was not only untimely, but also violent; so that
here was a seventh stroke. For their father did not see them expire
on a bed, but they were all overwhelmed by the falling habitation.
Consider then; a man was digging in that pile of ruins, and now he
drew up a stone, and now a limb of a deceased one; he saw a hand
still holding a cup, and another right hand placed on a table, and
the mutilated form of a body, the nose torn away, the head crushed,
the eyes put out, the brain scattered, the whole frame marred, and
the variety of wounds not permitting the father to recognize the be.
loved countenances. You suffer emotions and shed tears at merely
hearing of these things: what must he have endured at the sight of
them? For if we, so long after the event, can not bear to hear of
this tragedy, though it was another man's calamity, what an adas




EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF FRIENDS 91
inant was he to look on these things, and contemplate them, not as
another's, but his own afflictions! He did not give way to dejection,
nor ask, " What does this mean? Is this the recompense for my
kindness? Was it for this that I opened my house, that I might
see it made the grave of my children? Did I for this exhibit every
parental virtue, that they should endure such a death?" No such
hings did he speak, or even think; but steadily bore all, though
oereaved of them after bestowing on them so much care. For as an
accomplished statuary framing golden images, adorns them with
great care, so he sought properly to mold and adorn their souls.
And as a husbandman assiduously waters his palm-trees, or olives,
inclosing them and cultivating them in every suitable way; so he
perpetually sought to enrich each one's soul, as a fruitful olive, with
increasing virtue. But he saw the trees overthrown by the assault
of the evil spirit, and exposed on the earth, and enduring that miserable kind of death; yet he uttered no reviling word, but rather
blessed God, thus giving a deadly blow to the devil.
Should you say that Job had many sons, but that others have frequently lost their only sons, and that his cause of sorrow was not
equal to theirs; you say well; but I reply, that Job's cause of sorrow was not only equal, but far greater. For of what advantage
was it to him that he had many children? It was a severer calamity and a more bitter grief to receive the wound in many bodies.
Still, if you wish to see another holy man having an only son,
and showing the same and even greater fortitude, call to mind the
patriarch Abraham, who did not indeed see Isaac die, but, what was
much more painful, was himself commanded to slay him, and did
not question the command, nor repine at it, nor say, "Is it for this
thou hast made me a father, that thou shouldst make me the slayer
of my son? Better it would have been not to give him at all, than
having given him thus to take him away. And if thou choosest to
take him, why dost thou command me to slay him and to pollute
my right hand? Didst thou not promise me that from this son thou
wouldst fill the earth with my descendants? How wilt thou give
the fruits, then, if thou pluck up the root?  How dost thou
promise me a posterity, and yet order me to slay my son? Who
ever saw such things, or heard of the like? I am deceived; I have
been deluded." No such thing did he say, or even think; he said
nothing against the command, he did not ask the reasons; but hearing the word —Take thy son, thine only son whom thou lovest, and carry
him utp to. one of the mountains which I shall show thee, he complied so
readily as even to do more than was commanded. For he concealed




92                    CHRYSOSTOM.
the matter from his wife, and he left the servants at the foot of the
mount in ignorance of what was to be done, and ascended, taking
only the victim. Thus not unwillingly, but with promptness, he
obeyed the command. Think now what it was, to be conversing
alone with his son, apart from all others, when the affections are the
more fervently excited, and attachment becomes stronger; and this
not for one, or two, but for several, days. To obey the command
speedily, would have been wonderful; but not so wonderful as,
while his heart was burdened and agitated for many days, to avoid
indulging in human tenderness toward his son. On this account
God appointed for him a more extended arena, and a longer racecourse, that thou mightest the more carefully observe this combatant.
A combatant he was indeed, contending not against a man, but
against the force of nature. What language can describe his fortitude? He brought forward his son, bound him, placed him on the
wood, seized the sacrificing knife, was just on the point of inflicting
the stroke. In what manner to express myself properly, I know
not; he only would know, who did these things. For no language
can describe how it happened that his hand did not become torpid,
that the strength of his nerves did not relax, that the affecting sight
of his son did not overpower him.
It is proper here, too, to admire Isaac. For as the one obeyed
God, so did the other obey his father; and as the one, at God's
bidding him to sacrifice, did not demand an account of the matter,
so the other, when his father was binding him and leading him to
the altar, did not say, " Why art thou doing this?" —but surrendered
himself to his father's hand. And then was to be seen a man uniting in his own person the father and the sacrificing priest; and a
sacrifice offered without blood, a whole burnt-offering without fire,
an altar representing a type of death and the resurrection. For he
both sacrificed his son and he did not sacrifice him. He did not
sacrifice him with his hand, but in his purpose. For God gave the
command, not through desire to see the flowing of blood, but to
give you a specimen of steady purpose, to make known throughout
the world this worthy man, and to instruct all in coming time, that
it is necessary to prefer the command of God before children and
nature, before all things, and even life itself. And so Abraham
descended from the mount, bringing alive the martyr Isaac. How
(can we be pardoned then, tell me, or what apology can we have, if
we see that noble man obeying God with so much promptness and
submitting to him in all things, and yet we murmur at his dispensa.
tions? Tell me not of grief, nor of the intolerable nature of your




EXCESSIVE GRIEF AT THE DEATHI OF FRIENDS. 93
calamity; rather consider how in the midst of bitter sorrow you
may yet rise superior to it. That which was commanded to Abra
ham was enough to stagger his reason, to throw him into perplexity,
and to undermine his faith in the past. For who would not have
then thought, that the promise which had been made him of a
numerous posterity was all a deception? But not so Abraham.
And not less ought we to admire Job's wisdom in calamity; and
particularly, that after so much virtue, after his alms and various
acts of kindness to men, and though aware of no wrong either in
himself or his children, yet experiencing so much affliction, affliction
so singular. such as had never happened even to the most desperately
wicked, still he was not affected by it as most men would have
been, nor did he regard his virtue as profitless, nor form any ill-advised opinion concerning the past.
By these two examples, then, we ought not only to admire virtue,
but to emulate and imitate it. And let no one say these were
wonderful men. True, they were wonderful and great men. But
we are now required to have more wisdom than they, and than all
who lived under the Old Testament. For except your righteousness
exceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall not enter into the
kingdom of heaven. Gathering wisdom, then, from all quarters,
and considering what we are told concerning a resurrection and
concerning these holy men, let us frequently recite it to our souls,
not only when we are actually in sorrow, but also while we are free
from distress. For I have now addressed you on this subject,
though no one is in particular affliction, that when we shall fall into
any such calamity, we may, from the remembrance of what has
been said, obtain requisite consolation. As soldiers, even in peace,
perform warlike exercises, so that when actually called to battle and
the occasion makes a demand for skill, they may avail themselves
of the art which they have cultivated in peace; so let us, in time
of peace, furnish ourselves with weapons and remedies, that whenever there shall burst on us a war of unreasonable passions, or
grief, or pain, or any such thing, we may, well armed and secure on
all sides, repel the assaults of the evil one with all skill, and wall
ourselves round with right contemplations, with the declarations of
God, with the examples of good men, and with every possible defense. For so shall we be able to pass the present life with happiness, and to attain to the kingdom of heaven, through Jesus Christ,
to whom be glory and dominion, together with the Father and the
Holy Spirit forever and ever. Amen.




DISCOURSE EIGHTH
AUGUSTINE.
FEW men have done more to influence the theological opinions of
Christendom than AURELIUS AUGUSTINUS; sometimes called after the
manner of the middle ages, St. Austin. The place of his birth, No.
vember 13, A.D. 354, was an obscure village in Numidia, called Tagasta.
His father, Patricius, was a pagan till near the close of his life; but Monica,
his mother, was a woman of uncommon piety and faith, and spared no
effort to sow in the mind of her son the seeds of divine truth. Much
to her grief, however, he became wayward and even dissolute; and
attached himself to the Manichvean sect, whose principles afforded an
excuse for his immorality, and threw a vail over his vilest actions. Al.
though he acquired, previous to the age of thirty-two, great fame in
Rome and Carthage, and other places, as a teacher of grammar and
rhetoric, yet his conduct all this time, was profligate in the extreme.
His conversion, in 387, may be ascribed, under God, to the importunate supplications of his mother, who believed that God would ulti.
mately renew her graceless son, and who followed him in all his aberra
tions, with the earnest prayer of faith. It was in reference to these
supplications that it was said to that mother by her minister, Filiwu
istarum lacrymarum, non potest perire: The son of such tears can nob
perish. Augustine, upon his conversion, devoted all his property to
purposes of charity, and, for three years, with a mistaken zeal, lived as
a recluse. After this, however, he was ordained to the ministry, and
soon became Bishop of Hippo, on the coast of Africa, where he ended
a life of indefatigable labor, August 28th, 430, aged seventy-six years.
About seven months after this, the city of Hippo was burned by the
Vandals; but fortunately the extensive library of Augustine, containing all his own works, was not destroyed. These works are made up
of nearly three hundred books or treatises, including many epistles and
homilies; and are of very unequal value. The marked points of his
character and faith, which have given him his reputation as an admirer
and defender of the higher doctrines of divine grace, are best seen in
his "Confessions," and his dogmatical and polemical writings.




THE  RECOVERING OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND.    95
The usefulness of Augustine's life, and the soundness of his doctrinal
opinions, were much depreciated by the Platonic theosophy, with which
his mind was strongly imbued, and his decided inclinations to asceti.
cism. Nevertheless, the character of this eminent father, both as a
man and a writer, has often been misrepresented. Perhaps all who are
sufficiently familiar with him to form an intelligent estimate, will agree
in the opinion that at least he possessed many great and shining quali
ties; "a sublime genius, an ardent love of the truth and an unflinching
determination to defend it, invincible patience, a subtle and lively wit,
and sincere piety." The following is one of his homilies on the New
Testament.
THE RECOVERING OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND.
"Have mercy on us, 0 Lord, thou Son of David."-MATT. xx, 30, 34.
I. Ye know, holy brethren, full well as we do, that our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ is the -Physician of our eternal health; and
that to this end we task the weakness of our natures, that our weak
ness might not last forever. For He assumed a mortal body, where.
in to kill death. And, though He was crucified through meekness, as
the Apostle saith, yet He liveth by the power of God. They are the
words, too, of the same Apostle; He dieth no more, and death shall
have no more dominion over Him. These things, I say, are well
known to your faith. And there is also this which follows from it,
that we should know that all the miracles which He did on the
body, avail to our instruction, that we may from them perceive tha
which is not to pass away, nor to have any end. He restored to
the blind those eyes which death was sure sometime to close; He
raised Lazarus to life who was to die again. And whatever He did
for the health of bodies, He did it not to this end that they should
be forever; whereas, at the last, He will give eternal health even to
the body itself. But because those things which were not seen,
were not believed; by means of these temporal things which were
seen, He built up faith in those things which were not seen.
II. Let no one then, brethren, say that our Lord Jesus Christ doeth
not those things now, and on this account prefer the former to the
present ages of the Church. In a certain place, indeed, the same
Lord prefers those who do not see, and yet believe, to them who see
and therefore believe. For even at that time so irresolute was the




96                    a rr AUGUSTINE.
infirmity of His disciples, that they thought that He whom they
saw to have risen again must be handled, in order that they might
believe. It was not enough for their eyes that they had seen Him.
unless their hands also were applied to His limbs, and the scars of
HIis recent wounds were touched: that that disciple who was in
doubt, might cry out suddenly when he had touched and recognized
the scars, My Lord and my God. The scars manifested Him who
had healed all wounds in others. Could not the Lord have risen
again without scars? Yes, but He knew the wounds which were
in the hearts of His disciples, and to heal them He had preserved
the scars on His own body. And what said the Lord to him who
now confessed and said, My Lord and my God? Because thou hast
seen, He said, thou hast believed; blessed are they who do not see, and
yet believe. Of whom spoke He, brethren, but of us? Not that He
spoke only of us, but of those also who shall come after us. For a
little while when He had departed from the sight of men, that faith
might be established in their hearts, whosoever believed, believed,
though they saw Him not, and great has been the merit of their faith;
for the procuring of which faith they brought only the movement
of a pious heart, and not the touching of their hands.
III. These things, then, the Lord did to invite us to the faith. This
faith reigneth now in the Church, which is spread throughout the
whole world. And now, He worketh greater cures, on account of
which He disdained not then to exhibit those lesser ones. For as
the soul is better than the body, so is the saving health of the soul
better than the health of the body. The blind body doth not now
open its eyes by a miracle of the Lord, but the blinded heart open.
eth its eyes to the word of the Lord. The mortal corpse doth not
now rise again, but the soul doth rise again which lay dead in a living body. The deaf ears of the body are not now opened; but
how many have the ears of their heart closed, which yet fly open
at the penetrating word of God, so that they believe who did not
believe, and they live well who did live evily, and they obey who
did not obey; and we say, " such a man is become a believer;" and
we wonder when we hear of them whom once we had known as
hardened. Why, then, dost thou marvel at one who now believes,
who is living innocently, and serving God; but because thou dost
behold him seeing, whom thou hadst known to be blind; dost be.
hold him living whom thou hast known to be dead; dost behold
him hearing whom thou hadst known to be deaf? For consider
that there are who are dead in another than the ordinary sense,
of whom the Lord spoke to a certain man who delayed to follow




THE RECOVERING  OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND.   97
the Lord, because he wished to bury his father; Let the dead, said
He, bury their dead. Surely these dead buriers are not dead in body;
for if this were so, they could not bury dead bodies. Yet doth he
call them dead; where but in the soul within? For as we may
often see in a household, itself sound and well, the master of the
same house lying dead; so in a sound body do many carry a dea-1
soul within; and these the Apostle arouses thus, Awake, thou thz.
sleepest, and arisefrom the dead, and Christ shall give thee light. It -a
the same who giveth sight to the blind that awakeneth the deal.
For it is with His voice that the cry is made by the Apostle to the
dead. Awake thou that sleepest. And the blind will be enlightened
with light, when he shall have risen again. And how many deaf
men did the Lord see before His eyes, when He said, He that hath
ears to hear let him hear. For who was standing before Him without
his bodily ears? What other ears, then, did He seek for, but those
of tile inner man?
IV. Again, what eyes did He look for when He spake to those
who saw indeed, but who saw only with the eyes of the flesh? For
when Philip said to Him, Lord, show us the Father and it suficeth us:
ne understood, indeed, that if the Father were shown him, it might
well suffice him; but how would the Father suffice him, when He
that was equal to the Father sufficed not? And why did He not
suffice? Because He was not seen. And why was He not seen?
Because the eye whereby He might be seen was not yet whole. For
this, namely, that the Lord was seen in the flesh with the outward
eyes, not only the disciples who honored Him saw, but also the Jews
who crucified Him. He, then, who wished to be seen in another
way, sought for other eyes. And, therefore, it was that to him who
said Show us the Father, and it sufficeth us: He answered, Have I beer,
so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known Me, Philip?  He
who hath seen Me hath seen the Father also. And that He might in
the meanwhile heal the eyes of faith, he has first of all given him
instructions regarding faith, that so he might attain to sight. And
lest Philip should think that he was to conceive of God under the
same form in which he then saw the Lord Jesus Christ in the body,
he immediately subjoined, Believest thou not that lam in the Father,
and the Father in me?  He had already said, He who hath seen me
hath seen the Father also. But Philip's eye was not yet sound enough
to see the Father, nor, consequently, to see the Son, who is- Himself
co-equal with the Father. And so Jesus Christ took in hand to cure,
and with the medicine and salve of faith to strengthen the eyes of
his mind, which as yet were weak and unable to behold so great a
7




98                     AUGUSTINE.
light, and He said, Believest thou not that Iam in the Father, and the
Father in Mle?  Let not him, then, who can not yet see what the
Lord will one day show him, seek first to see what he is to believe;
but let him first believe that the eye by which he is to see may be
healed. For it was only the form of the servant which was exhibited to the eyes of servants; because, if He who thought it not robbery
to be equal with God, could have been now seen as equal with God
by those whom he wished to be healed, He would not have needed
to empty Himself and to take theform of a servant. But because there
was no way whereby God could be seen, but whereby man could be
seen there was, therefore He who was God was made man, that that
which was seen might heal that whereby He was not seen. For He
saith Himself in another place, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they
shall see God. Philip might of course have answered and said, "Lord,
do I see Thee? is the Father such as I see Thee to be? forasmuch
as Thou hast said, He who hath seen Me hath seen the Father also?"
But before Philip answered thus, or perhaps before he so much as
thought it, when the Lord had said, He who hath seen Me hath seen
the Father also, He immediately added, Believest thou not that lam iin
the Father, and the Father in Me? For with that eye he could not
yet see either the Father, or the Son who is equal with the Father;
but that his eye might be healed for seeing, he was anointed unto
believing. So, then, before thou seest what thou canst not now see,
believe what as yet thou seest not. Walk by faith, that thou mayest
attain to sight. Sight will not gladden him in his home whom faith
consoleth not by the way. For, so says the Apostle, As long as we
are in the body we are in pilgrimage from the Lord. And he subjoins
immediately why we are still in pilgrimage, though we have now
believed; For we walk by faith, he says; not by sight.
V. Our whole business, then, brethren, in this life, is to heal this
eye of the heart whereby God may be seen. To this end are celebrated the Holy Mysteries; to this end is preached the Word of
God; to this end are the moral exhortations of the Church, those,
that is, that relate to the corrections of manners, to the amendment
of carnal lusts, to the renouncing the world, not in word only, but
in a change of life: to this end is directed the whole aim of the
Divine and Holy Scriptures, that that inner man may be purged of
that which hinders us from the sight of God. For as the eye which
is formed to see this temporal light, a light though heavenly yet
corporeal, and manifest, not to men only, but even to the meanest
animals (for, for this the eye is formed, to this light); if any thing
be thrown or falls into it, whereby it is disordered, is shut oat from




THE RECOVERING OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND.   99
this light; and though it encompasses the eye with its presence, yet
the eye turns itself away from, and is absent from it; and though its
disordered condition is not only rendered absent from the light
which is present, but the light to see which it was formed, is even
painful to it. So the eye of the heart too, when it is disordered and
wounded, turns away from the light of righteousness, and dares not
and can not contemplate it.
VI. And what is it that disorders the eye of the heart? Evil
desire, covetousness, injustice, worldly concupiscence; these disorder,
close, blind the eye of the heart. And yet, when the eye of the body
is out of order, how is the physician sought out, what an absence of all
delay to open and cleanse it, that they may be healed whereby this
outward light is seen I There is running to and fro, no one is still,
no one loiters, if even the smallest straw fall into the eye. And God,
it must be allowed, made the sun which we desire to see with sound
eyes. Much brighter, assuredly, is He who made it; nor is the
light with which the eye of the mind is concerned, of this kind at
all. That light is eternal Wisdom. God made thee, O man, after
His own image. Would He give thee wherewithal to see the
sun which He made, and not give thee wherewithal to see Him
who made thee, when He made thee after His own image? He
hath given thee this also; both hath He given thee. But much
thou dost love these outward eyes, and despisest much that interior
eye; it thou dost carry about bruised and wounded. Yea, it would
be a punishment to thee if thy Maker should wish to manifest Himself unto thee; it would be a punishment to thine eye, before that
it is cured and healed. For so Adam in Paradise sinned, and hid
himself from the face of God. As long, then, as he had the sound
heart of a pure conscience, he rejoiced at the presence of God; when
that eye was wounded by sin, he began to dread the Divine light,
he fled back into the darkness, and the thick covert of the trees,
flying from the truth, and anxious for the shade.
VII. Therefore, my brethren, since we too are born of him, and
as the Apostle says, In Adam all die; for we were all at first two
persons; if we were loth to obey the physician, that we might not
be sick; let us obey him now, that we may be delivered from sickness. The physician gave us precepts, when we were whole; He
gave us precepts that we might not need a physician. They that are
whole, He saith, need not a physician, but they that are sick. When
whole, we despised these precepts, and by experience have felt how
to our own destruction we despised his precepts. Now we are sck,
we are in distress, we are on the bed of weakness; yet let us iol




'00                     AUGUSTINE.
despair. For because we could not come to the Physician, He hath
vouchsafed to come Himself to us. Though despised by man when
he was whole, He did not despise him when he was stricken. He
did not leave off to give other precepts to the weak, who would not
keep the first precepts, that he might not be weak; as though He
would say, "Assuredly thou hast by experience felt that I spoke
the truth when I said, Touch not this. Be healed then now, at
length, and recover the life thou hast lost. Lo, I am bearing thin6
infirmity; drink then the bitter cup. For thou hast of thine own
self made those my so sweet precepts, which were given to thee
when whole, so toilsome. They were despised, and so thy distress
began; cured thou canst not be, except thou drink the bitter cup,
the cup of temptations, wherein this life abounds, the cup of tribulation, anguish, and suffering. Drink then," He says, " drink, that
thou mayest live." And that the sick man may not make answer,
" I can not, I can not bear it, I will not drink;" the Physician, all
whole though he be, drinketh first, that the sick man may not hesitate to drink. For what bitterness is there in this cup, which He
hath not drunk? If it be contumely, he heard it first when he
drove out the devils. He hath a devil, and by Beelzebub he casteth out
devils. Whereupon, in order to comfort the sick, He saith, If they
have called the Master af the house Beelzebub, how much more shall ley
call them of His household? If pains are this bitter cup, He was
bound, and scourged, and crucified. If death be this bitter cup, Ho
died also. If infirmity shrink with horror from any particular kind
of death; none was at that time more ignominious than the death
of the cross. For it-was not in vain that the Apostle, when setting
forth His obedience, added, Made obedient unto death, even the death of
the cross.
VIII. But because He designed to honor His faithful ones at the
end of the world, He hath first honored the cross in this world; in
such wise that the princes of the earth who believe in Him have
prohibited any criminal from being crucified; and that cross which
the Jewish persecutors with great mockery prepared for the Lord,
even kings, his servants at this day, bear with great confidence on
their foreheads. Only the shameful nature of the death which our
Lord vouchsafed to undergo for us is not now so apparent, Who, as
the Apostle says, was made a curse for us. And when, as He hung,
the blindness of the Jews mocked Him, surely He could have come
down from the cross, Who, if He had not so willed, had not been
on the cross; but it was a greater thing to rise from the grave than
to come down from the cross. Our Lord, then, in doing these




THE RECOVERING OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND. 101
divine, and in suffering these human things, instructs us by his
bodily miracles and bodily patience, that we may believe and be
made whole to behold those things invisible which the eye of the
body hath no knowledge of. With this intent, then, He cured those
blind men of whom the account has just now been read in the
Gospel. And consider what instruction He has by this cure conveyed to the man who is sick within.
IX. Consider the issue of the thing, and the order of the circum,
stances. Those two blind men sitting by the wayside cried out, as
the Lord passed by, that He would have mercy upon them. But
they were restrained from crying out by the multitude which was
with the Lord. Now do not suppose that this circumstance is left
without a mysterious meaning. But they overcame the crowd who
kept them back by the great perseverance of their cry, that their
voice might reach the Lord's ears; as though he had not already
anticipated their thoughts. So then the two blind men cried out
that they might be heard by the Lord, and could not be restrained
by the multitude. The Lord was passing by, and they cried out.
The Lord stood still, and they were healed. For the Lord Jesus stooa
still, and called them, and said, What will ye that I shall do unto you?
They say unto Him, That our eyes may be opened. The Lord did
according to their faith, He recovered their eyes. If we have now
understood by the sick, the deaf, the dead, the sick, and deaf, and
dead within; let us look out in this place also for the blind within.
The eyes of the heart are closed; Jesus passeth by that we may cry
out. What is Jesus passeth by 7 Jesus is doing things which last
but for a time. What is Jesus passeth by? Jesus doth things which
pass by. Mark and see how many things of His have passed by.
Ee was born of the Virgin Mary; is He being born always? As
an infant He was suckled; is He suckled always? He ran through
the successive ages of life until man's full estate; doth He grow in
body always? Boyhood succeeded to infancy, to boyhood youth,
to youth man's full stature in several passing successions. Even
the very miracles which he did are passed by; they are read and
believed. For because these miracles are written that so they might
be read, they passed by when they were being done. In a word, not
to dwell long on this, He was crucified; is He hanging on the cross
always? He was buried, He rose again, He ascended into heaven,
now He dieth no more, Death shall no more have dominion over Him.
And His Divinity abideth ever, yea, the immortality of His body
now shall never fail. But nevertheless all those things which were
wroaght by Him in time have passed by; and they are written to




102                     AUGUSTINE.
be read, and they are preached to be believed. In all these things.
then, Jesus passeth by.
X. And what are the two blind men by the wayside but the two
people to cure whom Jesus came? Let us show these two people
in the Holy Scriptures. It is written in the Gospel, Other sheep 1
have which are not of this fold; them also must I bring, that there may
be onefold and one Shepherd. Who then are the two people?  One
the people of the Jews, and the other of the Gentiles. I am not
sent, He saith, but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. To whom
did He say this.? To the disciples; when that woman of Canaan
who confessed herself to be a dog cried out that she might be
found worthy of the crumbs from the Master's table. And because
she was found worthy, now were the two people to whom He had come
made manifest, the Jewish people, to wit, of whom He said, I am
not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel; and the people of
the Gentiles, whose type this woman exhibited, whom He had first
rejected, saying, It is not meet to cast the children's bread to the dogs;
and to whom, when she said, Truth, Lord, yet the dogs eat of the crumbs
which fall from their master's table, He answered, 0 woman, great is
thy faith; be it unto thee even as thou wilt. For of this people also
was that centurion of whom the same Lord saith, Verily Isay unto
you, I have not found so great faith, no, not in Israel. Because he had
said, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof b " seI k
the word only, and my servant shall be healed. So then the Lord even
before His passion and glorification pointed out two people, the one
to whom he had come because of the promises to the Fathers, and
the other whom for His mercy's sake He did not reject; that it
might be fulfilled which had been promised to Abraham, In thy seed
shall all the nations be blessed.   *    *    *    *    *    *    *
XI. Attend, now, dearly beloved. The Lord was passing by, and
the blind men cried out. What is, was passing by? As we have already said, He was doing works which passed by. Now upon these
passing works is our faith built up.. For we believe on the Son of
God, not only in that He is the word of God, by whom all things
were made; for if He had always continued in theform of God, equal
with God, and had not emptied Himself in taking the form of a servant; the blind men would not even have perceived Him, that they
might be able to cry out. But when He wrought passing works,
that is, when He humbled Himself( having become obedient unto death,
ever the death of the cross, the two blind men cried out, Have mercy on us,
thou Son of David. For this very thing that He, David's LIrd and




THE RECOVERING  OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND. 103
Creator, willed also to be David's son, He wrought in time, He,
wrought passing by.
XII. Now what is it, brethren, to cry out unto Christ, but to correspond to the grace of Christ by good works? This I say, brethren, lest haply we cry aloud with our voices, and in our lives be
dumb. Who is he that crieth out to Christ, that his inward blindness may be driven away by Christ as He is passing by, that is, a
He is dispensing to us those temporal sacraments, whereby we are
instructed to receive the things which are eternal? Who is he that
crieth out unto Christ?  Whoso despiseth the world, crieth out
unto Christ. Whoso despiseth the pleasures of the world, crieth
out unto Christ. Whoso saith, not with his tongue but with his
life, The world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world; crieth out
unto Christ. Whoso disperseth abroad and giveth to the poor, that his
righteousness may endure forever; crieth out unto Christ. For let him
that hears, and is not deaf to the sound, sell that ye have, and give to the
poor; provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens
that faileth not; let him as he hears the sound as it were of Christ's
fsotsteps passing by, cry out in response to this in his blindness, that
is, let him do these things. Let his voice be in his actions. Let him
begin to despise the world, to distribute to the poor his goods, to es
teem as nothing worth what other men love, let him disregard in.
juries, not seek to be avenged, let him give his cheek to the smiter,
let him pray for his enemies; if any one have taken away his goods,
let him not ask for them again; if he have taken any thing from any
man, let him restore fourfold.
XIII. When he shall begin to do all this, all his kinsmen, rela~
tions, and friends will be in commotion. They who love the world,
will oppose him. What madness this I! you are too extreme: What
are not other men Christians? This is folly, this is madness. An
other such like things do the multitude cry out to prevent the blind
from crying out. The multitude rebuked them as they cried out;
but did not overcome their cries. Let them who wish to be htaled
understand what they have to do. Jesus is now also passing by;
let them who are by the wayside cry out. These are they, who
know God with their lips, but their heart is far from Him.  These are
by the wayside, to whom, as blinded in heart, Jesus gives His precepts. For when those passing things which Jesus did are recounted,
Jesus is always represented to us as passing by. For even unto the
end of the world there will not be wanting blind men sitting by the
wayside. Need then there is that they who sit by the wayside should
cry out. The multitude that was with the Lord would repress the




104                    AUGUSTINE
crying of those who were seeking for recovery. Brethren, d I you
see my meaning? For I know not how to speak, but still less do 1
know how to be silent. I will speak then, and speak plainly. For
I fear Jesus passing by and Jesus standing still; and therefore I can
not keep silence. Evil and unknown Christians hinder good Chris.
tians who are truly earnest and wish to do the commandments of
God, which are written in the Gospel. This multitude which is with
the Lord hinders those who are crying out, hinders those, that is, who
are doing well, that they may not by perseverance be healed. But
let them cry out, and not faint; let them not be led away as if by
the authority of numbers; let them not imitate those who become
Christians before them, who live evil lives themselves, and are jealous of the good deeds of others. Let them not say, " Let us live as
these so many live." Why not rather as the Gospel ordains? Why
dost thou wish to live according to the remonstrances of the multitude who would hinder them, and not after the steps of the Lord
who passeth by?  They will mock, and abuse, and call thee back;
do thou cry out till thou reach the ears of Jesus. For they who
shall persevere in doing such things as Christ hath enjoined, and
regard not the multitude that hinder them, nor think much of their
appearing to follow Christ, that is of their being called Christians;
but who love the light which Christ is about to restore to them more
than they fear the uproar of those who are hindering them; they
shall on no account be separated from Him, and Jesus will stand still.
and make them whole.
XIV. For how are our eyes made whole? That as by faith we
perceive Christ passing by in the temporal economy, so we may at
tain to the knowledge of Him as standing still in His unchangeable
eternity. For there is the eye made whole when the knowledge of
Christ's divinity is attained. Let your love apprehend this; attend
ye to the great mystery which I am to speak of. All the things
which were done by our Lord Jesus Christ in time, graft faith in us.
We believe on the Son of God, not on the word only, by which all
things were made; but on this very word, made flesh that He might
duell among us. Who was born of the Virgin Mary, and the rest
which the Faith contains, and which are represented to us that Christ
might pass by, and that the blind, hearing His footsteps as He passeth
by, might by their works cry out, by their life exemplifying the profession of their faith. But now in order that they who cry out may
be made whole, Jesus standeth still. For he saw Jesus now standing
still, who says, Though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet now
hencefvrth know we Him no more. For he saw Christ's divinity as far




THE RECOVERING OF SIGHT TO THE BLIND.  105
as in this life is possible. There is then in Christ the divinity, and
the humanity. The divinity standeth still, the humanity passeth by.
What means, the divinity standeth still? It changeth not, is not
shaken, doth not depart away. For He did not so come to us as to
depart from the father; nor did He so ascend as to change His place.
When He assumed flesh, it changed place; but God assuming flesh,
eeing He is not in place, doth not change His place. Let us then be
touched by Christ standing still, and so our eyes be made whole. But
whose eyes? The eyes of those who cry out when He is passing by;
that is, who do good works through that faith which hath been dis.
persed in time, to instruct us in our infancy.
XV.' Now what thing more precious can we have than the eye
made whole? They rejoice who see this created light which shines
from heaven, or even that which is given out from a lamp. And
how wretched do they seem who can not see this light? But
wherefore do I speak, and talk of all these things, but to exhort you
all to cry out, when Jesus passeth by. I hold up this light which
perhaps ye do not see as an object of love to you, holy brethren.
Believe, while as yet ye see it not; and cry out that ye may see.
How great is thought to be the unhappiness of men who do not
see this bodily light? Does any one become blind; immediately it
is said: " God is angry with him, he has committed some wicked
deed." So said Tobias's wife to her husband. He cried out because
of the kid, lest it had come of theft; he did not like to hear the
sound of any stolen thing in his house; and she maintaining what
she had done, reproached her husband; and when he said, "Restore it if it be stolen;" she answered insultingly, " Where are thy
righteous deeds?" How great was her blindness who maintaineth the
theft; and how clear a light he saw who commanded the stolen
thing to be restored I She rejoiced outwardly in the light of the
sun; he inwardly in the light of righteousness. Which of them
was in the better light?
XVI. It is to the love of this light that I would exhort you, beloved; that ye would cry out by your works, when the Lord passeth by; let the voice of faith sound out, that Jesus was standing still,
that is, the Unchangeable, Abiding Wisdom of God, and the Majesty of the Word of God, by which all things were made, may open
your eyes. The same Tobias in giving advice to his son, instructed
him to this, to cry out; that is, he instructed him to good works.
He told him to give to the poor, charged him to give alms to the
needy, and taught him, saying, My son, alms suffereth not to come into
darkness. The blind gave counsel for receiving and gaining sight




106                   AUGUSTINE.
Aims, saith he, suffereth not to come into darkness. Had his son in
astonishment answered him, "What then, father, hast th u not
given alms, that thou now speakest to me in blindness; art not thou
in darkness, and yet thou dost say to me, Alms suffereth not to come
into darkness." But no, he knew well what the light was, concerning which he gave his son instruction, he knew well what he saw in
the inner man. The son held out his hand to his father, to enable
him to walk on earth; and the father to the son, to enable him to
dwell in heaven.
XVIr. To be brief; that I may conclude this sermon, brethren,
with a matter which touches me very nearly, and gives me much
pain, see what crowds there are which rebuke the blind as they cry out.
But let them not deter you, whosoever among this crowd desire to
be healed; fcr there are many Christians in name, and in works
ungodly; let them not deter you from good works. Cry out amid
the crowds that are restraining you, and calling you back, and
insulting you, whose lives are evil. For not only by their voices,
but by evil works, do wicked Christians repress the good. A good
Christian has no wish to attend the public shows. In this very
thing, that he bridles his desire of going to the theater, he cries out
after Christ, cries out to be healed. Others run together thither, but
perhaps they are heathens or Jews?  Ah! indeed, if Christians
went not to the theaters, there would be so few people there, that
they would go away for very shame. So then Christians run thither
also, bearing the Holy Name only to their condemnation. Cry out
then by abstaining from going, by repressing in thy heart this
worldly concupiscence; hold on with a strong and persevering cry
unto the ears of the Saviour, that Jesus may stand still and heal thee.
Cry out amid the very crowds, despair not of reaching the ears of
the Lord. For the blind man in the Gospel did not cry out in that
quarter where no crowd was, that so they might be heard in that
direction, where there was no impediment from persons hindering
them. Amid the very crowds they cried out; and yet the Lord
heard them. And so also do ye even amid sinners, and sensual
men, amid the lovers of the vanities of the world, there cry out that
the Lord may heal you. Go not to another quarter to cry out unto
the Lord, go not to heretics, and cry out unto Him there. Consider,
brethren, how in that crowd which was hindering them from crying
out, even there were they who cried out made whole.




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THE ENGLISH PULPIT.
" I, JOHN, by the grace of God King of England, etc.,freely grant unto
God, and the holy Apostles, Peter and Paul, AND TO THE HOLY ROMAN
CHURCH, OUR MOTHER, AND UNTO THE LORD, POPE INNOCENT, AND TO HIS
CATHOLIC SUCCESSORS, THE WHOLE KINGDOM OF ENGLAND, AND THE
WHOLE KINGDOM OF IRELAND, with all the rights and all the appurtenances
of the same,.for the remission of our sins, and of all our generations, both
for the living and the dead, that from this time forward we may receive
and hold them of him, and of the Roman Church, as second after him,
etc. * * * * * And for the sign of this our perpetual obligation
and concession, we will and ordain that of our proper and especial revenue from the said kingdoms, for all our service and custom which we
ought to render, THE ROMAN CHURCH RECEIVE A THOUSAND MARKS STERLING, YEARLY, without diminution of St. Peter's pence; * * * AND
IF WE, OR ANY OF OUR SUCCESSORS, PRESUME TO ATTEMPT AGAINST THESE
THINGS, LET HIM FORFEIT HIS RIGHT TO THE KINGDOM, WTC."
In our previous sketch we left the pulpit under a cloud. That that cloud
had not yet been lifted, this act of formal submission to the papal power,
by England's king, on the 12th day of May, in the year 1213, sufficiently
attests. It is but an index of those unhappy times, when the meanest
agents of the Pope insulted with impunity the greatest princes of the
earth. But the hour of triumph is sometimes the hour of defeat. Tk
successors of Innocent had not uniformly exacted the promised tribute
for the best of reasons; and when, at a later day, Pope Urban the Fiftb
demanded of Edward the Third the arrearages of many years, the king
refused; for the heart of the better portion of the nation was stirred to
the point of resistance. A century had passed, and now the opportune
hour for giving a prodigious blow to the power of popery in England
had come. And the blow was not wanting. The falling out between
the King and the Pope had made Wickliffe royal chaplain; and boldly
did he enter the lists. He asserted the sufficiency of the Scriptures, and
the liability of the Pope to err, and even commit mortal sin. Vast was
the influence of this noble champion for the truth; but his death occurred
just when a continuance of his efforts only seemed needful to emanci.
pate the nation. Let us pass over a century, during which the Reforma
tion, for the reason indicated, made but comparatively little progress.




10               THE ENGLISH  PULPIT.
We have quoted one famous passage. Let us cite another of a very
different nature. " If the ship of the Church is to be saved from being
swallowed up by the tempest, there is only one anchor that can save it;
it is the HEAVENLY WORD, which, issuing from the bosom of the Father,
lives, speaks, and works still in the GosPEL."  These were the noble
words of Erasmus, who, in the year 1467, first saw the light. And, as
he uttered them, he sent forth from the press at Basle, his New Testanent in Greek, published now for the first time, with a new Latin
translation.
It was a bold push for reform, and gave a wonderful advance move.
ment in the direction of Wickliffe's efforts the century previous. Those
fresh volumes, crossing the Channel, found their way to the private
chambers of praying men and women, to the marts of business, to the
lecture-rooms, and the ancient halls of Oxford and Cambridge. The
religious reformation was rapidly progressing. The people were reading
God's Word, and discussing the great principles of justification by faith
and its kindred themes. Ridley, and Latimer, and Cranmer, and Jewell, and Bradford, and Tyndale are seen in the field, doing battle for the
truth. They are mighty preachers, and have evoked an influence which
no degree of opposition can allay. The Reformers of England are striking hands with those of other countries. The seeds of the Reformation,
scattered by Luther's predecessors along the Rhine, have sprung up and
come to fruitage; while the labors of Wishart and Knox, in Scotland,
are yielding a plentiful harvest. In every province of Christendom,
strange as it may appear, there is a simultaneous, yet independent action
of the Divine word —and thus the glorious work goes on.
If we examine now the writings of the founders of the English
churches, we shall find strong indications of what Fuller calls a "twilight religion." The nation was just emerging fi-om the depths of Romish
superstition, and even the foremost of the Reformers could not have been
wholly free from error, and in all respects model preachers. It was not
till the remarkable reign of Edward the Sixth, when Protestantism made
such immense progress, that any great degree of accuracy and clearness
of statement on doctrines generally, was arrived at, and somewhat of
method and harmonious arrangement in the manner of public discourse.
But for all, the Reformers must have been powerful preachers. The
subjects selected were those that excited public attention, and in their
treatment they were briefly touched, and rapidly varied. In reading
these early productions, we see not, at the best, the men, and are liable
to lose sight of the times. Though the structure of the sentences is
oftentimes uncouth, and modern taste is offended at the trivial allusions
and wearisome digressions, yet in many respects these preachers excelled
those of the next century; certainly in downright earnestness, and a
direct and pungent method of presenting truth. In respect to the matter
of their discourses, as might have been anticipated, they at first dis




THE ENGLISH PULPIT.                            111
coursed much upon the abuses and enormities of Popery, especially in
regard to the Christian ordinances, a belief in whose efficacy had nullified
the doctrine of justification by faith. Soon, however, the plain and
essential doctrines of the Bible formed the staple of their sermons. They
insisted upon the sole authority of the Scriptures, as the rule of faith and
practice, and called back the public mind from tradition and speculation
to the positive " Thus saith the Lord."  With Wickliffe, they declared
that impertinent "which is not plainly declared in Scripture."  As a
consequence piety revived, and the power of religion was widely felt and
exemplified. The leading truths of revelation having been disengaged,
by means of the Reformation, from the errors with which they had hitherto been intermingled, were incorporated as the basis of the national
creed in the year 1562.
But, by the close of the reign of James the First (1625), preaching
had begun to degenerate from its former simplicity. In the discourses
of these times, we find again, to some extent, the subtle distinctions and
vague speculations of the early ages, and appeals to the "Fathers" in
matters of faith, as well as, and oftentimes instead of, the Scriptures.
T7his tendency so rapidly progressed, that before the termination of the
seventeenth century, the sermons of the state clergy generally breathed
little or nothing of the evangelical spirit. Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, whose discourses seem to have been designed to flatter the pride
of King Charles, rather than save the souls of those whom he addressed,
was a strenuous advocate of the crown and the miter, and it would
appear that he considered it his special vocation to denounce the Non.
conformists, and defend the prerogatives of the throne. His example
could not but be widely followed. Sermons became political harangues,
and exhortations to unity. A lax theology obtained, and with it a general corruption of manners and life. Neal, in his History of the Puritans,
says of these times, " There was hardly a sermon preached by the inferior
ilergy within the king's quarters, wherein the Parliament divines (those
who sided against the king) were not severely exposed and ridiculed,
under the character of Puritans,* Precisians, Formalists, Sabbatarians,
canting hypocrites, etc."t Indeed, the clergy were neither fitted nor
inclined to preach the pure Gospel. It can not be denied that many of
them were absolutely dissolute. Dr. Walker, when referring to them,
Q As early as the time of Queen Elizabeth, this term was applied, in derision, to
those who insisted on the pure word of God, in opposition to all traditions and human
constitutions. Hume gave this name to three parties, the political Puritans, maintaining
the highest principles of civil liberty; the Puritans in discipline, who were averse to the
ceremonies and government of the Episcopal Church; and the doctrinal Puritans, who
rigidly defended the system held by the first Reformers. At the beginning of the seventeenth century some of the Puritans were Conformists, and some were Non-conformists.
Very soon after the Synod of Dort, the court clergy were distinguished for their Armin.
ianism; and those of the,opposite view were branded by the title of DOCTBSlAT
PUrrITAN.                              t Vo L p. 427.




112                THE ENGLISH  PULPIT.
admits that "there were men of wicked lives, and such as were a
reproach and scandal to their functions; the particulars of which had
better have been buried than left upon record."*
There arose, also, at this time, a set of divines who, as Robert Hall
says, "partly in compliance with the popular humor, partly to keep at a
distance from the Puritans, and partly to gain the infidels who began to
make their appearance, introduced a new sort of preaching, in which th
doctrines of the Reformation, as they are usually styled, were sup
planted by copious and elaborate disquisitions on points of morality.
Their fame and ability emboldened their successors to improve upon
this pattern, by consigning the Articles of the Church to a still more
perfect oblivion, by losing sight still more entirely of the peculiarities
of the Gospel, guarding more anxiously against every sentiment or
expression that could agitate or alarm, and by shortening the length and
adding as much as possible to the dryness of their moral lucubrations.
"From that time," he continues, " the idea commonly entertained in
England of a perfect sermon was that of a discourse upon some moral
topic, clear, correct, and argumentative, in the delivery of which the
preacher must be free from all suspicion of being moved himself, or of
intending to produce emotion in his hearers. This idea was successfully
realized, this singular model of pulpit eloquence carried to the utmost
perfection. The consequence was that the creed established by law had
no sort of influence in forming the sentiments of the people; the pulpit
completely vanquished the desk; piety and puritanism were confounded
in one common reproach; an almost pagan darkness in the concerns of
salvation prevailed; and the English became the most irreligious people
upon earth."t
Far different had it been with the men of a preceding age, who had
been trained under Puritan influences, and who were spared the sight
of the corruptions even now setting in. Here the true doctrines
were insisted upon, and, in many instances, with eminent learning
and ability. For to these times belong Leighton, and Baxter, and
Bates, and Bunyan, and Owen, and Flavel, and Beveridge, and Howe,
and Charnock, and others deserving of honorable mention. These men
were earnest preachers, the more so as they were pained at the inactiv.
ity of the majority of those who filled the sacred office. This was
characteristic of the Puritans as a class. While the day lasted they
labored with their might, rebuking the prevailing wickedness and
" pulling sinners o it of the fire." It is also to be observed that their
preachirg was, in the highest sense, biblical. They were "mighty in
the Scriptures." They insisted particularly upon the more humiliating
truths of revelation, and those which are accounted hard to receive;
perhaps carrying the matter, in some instances, to an extreme.
It is difficult to determine which trait predominated in the master' Sufferings of Clergy, p. 72.       f See Hall's Works, ii. 272.




THE ENGLISH  PULPIT.                     113
spirits that figured during the turbulent times preceding the Restoration
of Charles the Second; whether their devotion, or their love of freedom,
or their attachment to the doctrines of grace. Certain it is that most
of their opponents, the firm supporters of arbitrary power, held sentiments directly at variance with the tenets which they had adopted.
This fact presents a strange anomaly; the adherents of the established
religion virtually departing from their own articles of faith, in substance
the doctrinalviews of the Reformers, and the Puritans supporting the creed
which its friends had abandoned. It was mainly by means of the Nonconformists, therefore, that the spirit of the Reformation was kept alive.
And for much besides this are we indebted to these stanch old
Puritans of the seventeenth century. They were men of prodigious
power. We are not to judge of them by their pulpit productions only;
for they have bequeathed to us fewer of these than have their churchly
oppressors. Their treatises on religion and religious experience are very
voluminous, and constitute a proud monument to early sacred learning.
Witness, to mention no others, those of Owen, and Baxter, and Bunyan.
But saying nothing of the rich legacy of their writings, how great is our
indebtedness to their influence while living! We may judge of our
obligations and of their real ability by the impress which their preaching and discussions left upon their own and subsequent ages. Had
they not been the most powerful of preachers, the most learned of
divines, and the most able of disputants, they could not have wielded
so prodigious an influence. No one will deny that they contributed
more than any and all others to set limits to the power of the Crown,
to define the rights of subjects, and to secure to the people their liberties. Their strong hand it was that wrested the rod of iron from the
grasp of the ruling power, and substituted in its stead a scepter of
righteousness and mercy. But for the penetrating minds and the earnest
purpose of these men, the distinct provinces of divine and human legislation might have long remained unacknowledged and undefined, an
no one can tell how much time would have elapsed before scriptura
sentiments had come to be held respecting the unsecular nature of
Christ's kingdom, and its true resources of maintenance and extension.
And having said thus much of the Puritan pulpit, justice demands that
we add, that among the established clergy in the last half of the seventeenth century, were men of elegant letters and profound erudition,
who magnified their offices especially in their noble defense of the truth
against the free-thinkers, and Unitarians, and Papists.
But by the close of this century, the pulpit, as intimated above, had
ceased to exert the full measure of its power. Few, indeed, were they
who "held out the lamp of evangelical instruction," at that darkened
period. Not the general style, alone, but the doctrine of the pulpit
became sadly vitiated. Infidel sentiments, about this time, began to
prevail, and before the expiration of the first half of the following cen8




114                THE ENGLISH  PULPIT.
tury, their influence, either in the form of philosophical speculation, ot
open blasphemy, or secret mistrust, were most pernicious. In proof, it
is only necessary to refer to the extensive circulation of the writings of
men like Hobbes, Toland, Collins, Shaftsbury, Chubb, and Bolingbroke;
and the incidental testimony of learned and pious divines like Bishop.s
Burnet and Gibson, and Butler and Secker, and Drs. Watts and Guyse,
and others of these times, who deplore the dismal effects of the growth
of infidelity, and "the imminent ruin hanging over the churches, and by
consequence, over the whole Reformation."* Arianism and other
deadly heresies, also, found advocates in erudite and skillful ecclesiastics,
and though ably exposed, exerted no little influence upon the clergy
and the laity. The various Acts of Uniformity, which, perhaps, should
have been first mentioned, also operated to paralyze the power of the
pulpit. The most famous of these acts became a law in 1662. According to its terms, ministers, who had not been ordained by a bishop
must be reordained.  They must declare their unfeigned consent
and assent to all prescribed in the Book of Common Prayer. They
must swear obedience to the bishops and other ecclesiastic superiors. They must profess the utmost passive subjection, and declare
that they would not take up arms against the king "upon any pretense whatever." Otherwise they were to be deprived of their livings, and forbidden to preach. It was a dark day for England.
The act impinged upon the consciences of about two thousand clergymen, who were ejected from their pulpits, and silenced, as far as it was
in the power of man to do it. The celebrated Mr. Locke says of this
oppressive enactment, "it was fatal to our Church and religion, by
throwing out a very great number of worthy, learned, pious, and orthodox divines." The Corporation Act, the preceding year, incapacitated
all persons for holding civil office or trust who did not receive the sacrament in the established Church. The Conventicle Acts (1663, 1670)
restricted attendance at other than the established churches. The Oxford Act (1665), banished all dissenting ministers five miles from any
corporate town. These are but specimens of the intolerance that prevailed, until the pent-up fires broke forth in the Revolution of 1688. It
was not until William and Mary came to the throne (1694) that toleration was extended by law. From these and other causes, the ministry
became comparatively effete, while men of rank and fashion laughed at
religion, and the common people wallowed in sin.
Such was the state of things when Whitfield and Wesley made their
appearance upon the stage, about the year 1740; of whom Hall observed,
" whatever feelings the severest criticism can discover in their character,
they will be hailed by posterity as the second reformers of England."
The time of their advent forms a memorable era in the history of preach,
* Burnet's Pastoral Call, 3d ed. Pref. See also Butler's Pref to Analogy, Secker's
Eight Cliarges, and Watts' Revival of Religion.




THE ENGLISH  PULPIT.                       115
mng. Theil souls were inspired with high resolves, and unwonted zeal.
The appea)b which they uttered, and which were addressed principally
to the middle and lower classes, came from the depth of their convie.
tions, and were aimed at the conscience and the passions of the hearers,
with earnestness and affection; and how mightily the Lord wrought
through them, it is not needful here to narrate. But their influence
was not solely in the direction of the immediate gathering of souls to
Christ. It extended beyond the laity to the ranks of the clergy. The
Dissenters, as a body, were less influenced by their preaching than the
established Church. Besides the fact that they were mainly already
evangelical in their bearings, the doctrines of Wesley and his adherents
(the remark does not hold true of Whitfield) were not acceptable to
this class, since they were not, in their opinion, orthodox. This was no
objectionable feature in the view of the Episcopal order, but rather the
reverse. Here, therefore, the change was most marked. While the
few faithful ones were encouraged, the cold, perfunctory ecclesiastics
were roused from their guilty slumbers, and either addressed themselves
afresh to the work of the ministry, or, from the force of public opinion,
abandoned their profession. It is true the influence was not universal;
but, to a great extent, the preaching of the times became less smooth
and vapid, and more plain, earnest, and evangelical. And such it has
remained, to a good degree, from that day to the present. Thenceforward the number of faithful ministers greatly increased, and the pulpit
exerted its legitimate influence upon the national character and life; an
influence greatly augmented by the missionary spirit, at the beginning
of the present century. If, because of the exclusion of the Dissenters
from the seats of learning and the emoluments of the State, the more
learned and accurate sermonizers generally have been in the line of the
established Church, the more practical, and equally effective preachers
have been found in the several independent connections. Taken as it
stands, the pulpit of England challenges the admiration of the world.
Its venerable antiquity is invested with thrilling historic interest, and
vast are the treasures of sacred learning, of acute disquisition, of profound speculation, of powerful controversy, and of able biblical criticism, which it has given forth for the nurture of piety and the defense
of the faith. And its present is fraught with prophesies of a future not
unworthy of the past. A complete divorce of Church and State would
result in a Nast augmentation of its power. So would a more direct,
persuasive, and energetic manner of public address, such as Aristotle
denominates the " agonistical" or wrestling style. For, with many brilliant exceptions, the English preachers are evidently inclining toward
the unnatural composure and essayistic style of a former age. But yet
who can contemplate with other feelings than those of profound and
grateful admiration, the present and prospective influence of the Angli.
can pulpit upon the destinies of the nation and the world?




DISCOURSE NINTH.
WICKLIFFE.*
JOHN DE WICKLIFFE, the herald of the Reformation, "the star that
arose on the brow of a long and gloomy night," was born about the year
1324, at a village of the same name, near Richmond in Yorkshire, En.
gland; where his ancestors had resided firom the time of the Conquest.
He was entered a student at Oxford University —then recently established-in the year 1340, and afterward at Merton College, which the
name of Duns Scotus rendered so celebrated. In 1361 he became master
of Baliol College, and four years later of Canterbury Hall, just founded
at Oxford. Displaced by the Pope for advocating offensive opinions, he
retired to his living at Lutterworth. In 1377 he was tried for heresy, at
the instigation of those who were alarmed at the influence of his writings, but so able was his defense that the charge was dismissed. A
second time he was summoned to trial by the Pope, and with the same
result.
A third council condemned his doctrines as heretical; but while some
of his followers suffered punishment, Wickliffe himself was removed by
death at Lutterworth, in the year 1382. Chaucer was his intimate associate; and it is supposed that the fidelity of Wickliffe, as the good minister of Lutterworth, furnished this celebrated writer with the original
of his "Village Pastor."  The angry Papists branded with infamy the
name of the zealous Reformer, and obtained a decree of the Council of
Constance by which his bones were dug up and burned, and their ashes
cast into a neighboring brook, a branch of the AvoA. "And thus this
brook did convey his ashes into the Avon; and the Avon into the Severn; and the Severn into the narrow sea, and this into the wide ocean.
And so the ashes of Wickliffe are the emblem of his doctrine: it is now
dispersed all over the world."
* The name of the Reformer has been spelled in sixteen different ways. Wiclif is
adopted by Lewis and Baber, and is used in the oldest document where the word is found
— his appointment to the embassy of the Pope in 1370. Vaughan adopts Wycliffe, and
it is supposed by many to be correct. But Neal and other good authorities use Wickl
liffie, and we adopt it as the most popular form.




WICKLIFFE.                            117
That the mind which Wickliffe possessed was one of the very highest
order, is sufficiently evinced in the wide sphere which he filled as lecturer
in theology, royal chaplain, popular preacher, faithful pastor, powerful
writer, and able defender and translator of the Word of God. He was
emphatically in advance of his age; and stands out in solitary grandeur
as the Father of the Reformation. He was born a century and a half
anterior to Luther; and although the faithful Waldenses, in their mountain fastnesses, had trimmed the flickering lamp through long ages of
moral darkness, yet it is doubtful whether Wickliffe borrowed his light
from theirs; and certain that he first bore aloft the torch of truth to
scatter the impending gloom. To Wickliffe belongs the honor also, of
having first translated the Bible into the English language; a work
which he completed in 1383. No event in the annals of English history
can be compared with this in importance. It was the author's great work,
but by no means his sole work. His writings are voluminous and embrace
a large variety of subjects. As printing was not yet discovered, copies
of his works were at first made in writings and their influence was immense.* Wickliffe's method of preaching was postillating, in distinction
from declaring; that is, taking up the various parts of a passage and
briefly expounding them, in succession, with a view to some timely ap
plication.
Owing to this fact, the Sermons of Wickliffe which have come down
to us, are exceedingly brief and imperfect, and discover but little of the
excellence and force which undoubtedly marked the Reformer's preaching.
The discourse which follows was put forth under the title of " Wickliffe's
Wicket" (little door, or gate, in allusion to Christ's " strait gate"), and
bore on the first page a quotation from the 6th of John, wh14h is here
transcribed literally as a specimen of the English language in the fourteenth century: " I am the lyuynge breade whych came downe from
heauen: who so etethe of this brede shall lyue for euer. And the brede
that I wyll gyue is my flesche, whyche I wyll gyue for the lyfe of the
worlde."  The modern rendering here used is that adopted by the London Tract Society; and we begin where the author enters upon the dis.
cussion of his subject, after an appropriate introduction. It is proper to
add that this was one of Wickliffe's most influential productions, and
dealt many a heavy blow during the progress of the Reformation. It is
often noticed in the articles against the Lollards, and in various proclamations against heretical books. It is written in his usual purity of
style, and well adapted to influence the common mind. No subject could
* The number of Wickliffe's disciples at his decease is described by Knighton, a canon
of Leicester, his cotemporary; and coming from an enemy is the more valuable. He
says, "The number of those who believed in Wickliffe's doctrine very much increased,
and were multiplied like suckers, growing from the root of a tree. They every where
filled the kingdom; so that a man could scarcely meet two people on the same road but
one of them was a disciple of Wickliffe."-Twysden, Decem. Scrip. Col. 2663




118                    WICKLIFFE.
have been more important than that here treated; for the " altar" had
come to be the shrine of idolatry; and in the discussion of this question.
al the Scriptural doctrines of salvation were involved.
CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST.
"This is my body."-MATT. xxvi. 26.
Now understand ye the words of our Saviour Christ, as he spake
them one after another-as Christ spake them. For he took bread
and blessed, and yet what blessed he? The Scripture saith not that
Christ took bread and blessed it, or that he blessed the bread which
he had taken. Therefore it seemeth more that he blessed his disciples and apostles, whom he had ordained witnesses of his passion;
and in them he left his blessed word, which is the bread of life, as
it is written, Not only in bread liveth man, but in every word that
proceedeth out of the mouth of God. Matt. iv. Also Christ saith,
I am the bread of life that came down from heaven. John vi. And
Christ saith also in John, The words that I have spoken to you are
spirit and life. Therefore it seemeth more that he blessed his dis.
ciples, and also his apostles, in whom the bread of life was left
more' than in material bread, for the material bread hath an end.
As it is written in the Gospel of Matthew xv. that Christ said, All
things that a man eateth go down into the belly, and are sent down
into the draught; but the blessing of Christ kept his disciples and
apostles, both bodily and ghostly. As it is written, that none of
them perished but the son of perdition, that the Scriptures might be
fulfilled, John xvii., and often the Scripture saith that Jesus took
bread and brake it, and gave it to his disciples, and said, Take ye,
eat ye, this is my body that shall be given for you. But he said not
this bread is my body, or that the bread should be given for the life
of the world. For Christ saith, What and if ye shall see the Son
of man ascend up where he was before? It is the Spirit that quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing. John vi. Also Christ saith in
the Gospel, Verily, verily I say unto you except the wheat corn
fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die it bringeth forth much fruit.
Here men may see by the words of Christ that it behooved that
he died in the flesh, and that in his death was made the fruit of
everlasting life for all them that believe on him, as it is written,




CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST.  119
For as by Adam all die, even so by Christ shall all live, and every
man in his own order; for as one clearness is in the sun, another in
the moon, and a star in clearness is nothing in comparison to the
sun. Even so is the again rising of the dead, for we are sown in
corruption and shall rise again incorruptible, we are sown in infirm.
ity, and shall rise again in strength; we are sown in natural bodies,
and shall rise again spiritual bodies. Then if Christ shall change
thus our deadly* bodies by death, and God the Father spared not
his own Son, as it is written, but that death should reign in him as
in us, and that he should be translated into a spiritual body, as the
first again rising of dead men. Then how say the hypocrites that
take on them to make our Lord's body? Make they the glorified
body?  Either make they again the spiritual body which is risen
from death to life? or make they the fleshly body as it was before he
suffered death? And if they say also that they make the spiritual
body of Christ, it may not be so, for what Christ said and did, he
did as he was at supper before he suffered his passion; as it is
written that the spiritual body of Christ rose again from death to
life. Matt. xxviii. Also that he ascended up to heaven, and that he
will abide there till he come to judge the quick and the dead. And
if they say that they make Christ's body as it was before he had
suffered his passion, then must they needs grant that Christ is to die
yet. For by all Holy Scriptures he was promised to die, and that he
should give lordship of everlasting life.
Furthermore, if they say that Christ made his body of bread, I
ask, With what words made he it? Not with these words, " EHoc
est corpus meum;" that is to say in English, " This is my body," for
they are the words of giving, and not of making, which he said
after that he brake the bread; then parting it among his disciples
and apostles. Therefore if Christ had made of that bread his body,
[he] had made it in his blessing, or else in giving of thanks, and not
in the words of giving; for if Christ had spoken of the material
bread that he had in his hands when he said, "H oc est corpus meum,"
" This is my body," it was made before, or else the word had been
a lie. For if I say, This is my hand, and if it be not a hand, then
am I a liar; therefore seek carefully if ye can find two words of
blessing, or of giving of thanks, wherewith Christ made his body
and blood of the bread and wine. And that all the clerks of the
earth know not, for if ye might find or know those words, then
should ye wax great masters above Christ, and then ye might be
givers of his substance, and as fathers and makers of him, and that
* Mortal.




120                    WICKLIFFE.
he should worship you, as it is written, Thou shalt worship thy
father and mother. Exod. xx. Of such as desire such worship
against (rod's law, speaketh St. Paul of the man of sin that enhanceth* himself as if he were God. And he is worshiped over all
things as God, and showeth himself as he were God. Where our
clergy are guilty in this, judge ye or they that know most, for they
say that when ye have said, " Hoc est corpus meum," that is to say,
" This is my body;" which ye call the words of consecration, or
else of making; and when they are said over the bread, ye say that
there is left no bread, but it is the body of the Lord.  So that
in the bread there remaineth nothing but a heap of accidents, as
witness ruggedness, roundness, savor, touching, and. tasting, and
such other accidents. Then, if thou sayest that the flesh and blood
of Christ, that is to say, his manhood, is made more, or increased by
so much as the ministration of bread and wine is, the which ye
minister-if ye say it is so-then thou must needs consent that the
thing which is not God to-day shall be God to-morrow; yea, and
that the thing which is without spirit of life, but groweth in the
field by kind, shall be God at another time. And we all ought to
believe that he was without beginning, and without ending; and
not made, for if the manhood of Christ were increased every day by
so much as the bread and wine draweth to that ye minister, he
should increase more in one day by cart-loads than he did in thirty.
two years when he was here in earth.
And if thou makest the body of the Lord in those words, " Hoc
est corpus meum;" that is to say, " This is my body." And if thou
mayest make the body of the Lord in those words, "This is my
body," thou thyself must be the person of Christ, or else there is a
Ealse God; for if it be thy body as thou sayest, then it is the body
of a false knave or of a drunken man, or of a thief, or of a lecherer
Dr full of other sins, and then there is an unclean body for any man
to worship for God I For even if Christ had made there his body
of material bread in the said words, as I know they are' not the
words of making, what earthly man had power to do as he did?
For in all Holy Scripture, from the beginning of Genesis to the end
of the Apocalypse, there are no words written of the making of
Christ's body; but there are written that Christ was the Son of the
Father, and that he was conceived of the Holy Ghost, and that he
took flesh and blood of the Virgin Mary, and that he was dead, and
that he rose again from death on the third day, and that he as.
cen led to heaven very God and man, and that we should believe in
* Advanceth.




CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST. 121
all scriptures that are written of him, and that he is to come to
judge the quick and the dead, and that the same Christ Jesus, King
and Saviour, was at the beginning with the Father and the Holy
Ghost, making all things of naught, both heaven and earth, and all
things that are therein; working by word of his virtue,* for he said,
Be it done, and it was done, Gen. i., whose works never earthly man
might comprehend, either make. And yet the words of the making
of these things are written in the beginning of Genesis, even as God
spake them; and if ye can not make the work that he made, and
have the word by which he made it, how shall ye make him that
made the works? You have no words of authority or power left
you on earth by which ye should do this, but ye have feigned this
craft of your false errors, which some of you understand not; for
it is prophesied, Isaiah vi. xlii., Matt. xiii., Luke viii., and Mark iv.,
They shall have eyes and see not, and ears and hear not; and shall
see prophesies, and shall not understand, lest they be converted; for
I hide them from the hearts of those people; their hearts are greatly
fatted. And this thing is done to you for the wickedness of your
errors in unbelief; therefore be ye converted from the worst sin,
as it is written, When Moses was in the hill with God, Exod. xxxii.,
the people made a calf and worshiped it as God. And God spake
to Moses, Go, for the people have done the worst sin to make and
worship alien gods.
But now I shall ask you a word; answer ye me, Whether is the
body of the Lord made at once or at twice? Is both the flesh and
the blood in the host of the bread? or else is the flesh made at one
time, and the blood made at other time; that is to say the wine in
the chalice? If thou wilt say it is full and wholly the manhood of
Christ in the host of bread, both flesh and blood, skin, hair, and
bones, then makest thou us to worship a false god in the chalice,
which is unconjured when ye worship the bread; and if ye say the
flesh is in the bread, and the blood in the wine, then thou must
grant, if thy craft be true, as it is not indeed, that the manhood of
Christ is parted, and that he is made at two times. For first thou
takest the host of bread, or a piece of bread, and makest it as ye
say, and the innocent peoplet worship it. And then thou takest to
thee the chalice, and likewise marrest, makest, I would have said, the
blood in it, and then they worship it also, and if it be so as I am
sure that the flesh and blood of Christ ascended, then are ye false
harlots$ to God and to us; for when we shall be houselled~ ye bring
* Power.                            t Simple, ignorant people.
False servants, cheats.            ~ Receive the sacrament.




122                    WICKLIFFE.
to us the dry flesh, and let the blood be away; for ye give us after
the bread, wine and water, and sometimes clean water unblessed, or
rather conjured, by the virtue of your craft; and yet ye say, under
the host of bread is the full manhood of Christ. Then by your own
confession must it needs be that we worship a false god in the chalice, which is unconjured when we worship the bread, and worship
the one as the other; but where find ye that ever Christ or any of
His disciples taught any man to worship this bread or wine?
Therefore, what shall we say of the apostles that were so much
with Christ, and were called by the Holy Ghost; had they forgotten
to set it in the creed when they made it, which is Christian men's
belief? Or else we might say that they knew no such God, for
they believe in no more gods but in him that was at the beginning,
and made of naught all things visible and invisible, Heb. i. Ps. cii.,
which Lord took flesh and blood, being in the Virgin, the same God.
But ye have many false ways, to beguile the innocent people with
sleights of the fiend.
For ye say that in every host each piece is the whole manhood
of Christ, or full substance of him. For ye say as a man may take
a glass, and break the glass into many pieces, and in every piece
properly thou mayest see thy face, and yet thy face is not parted.
So ye say the Lord's body is in each host or piece, and his body is
not parted. And this is a full subtle question to beguile an innocent fool, but will ye take heed of this subtle question, how a man
may take a glass and behold the very likeness of his own face, and
vet it is not his face, but the likeness of his face? for if it were his
very face, then he must needs have two faces, one on his body and
another in the glass I And if the glass were broken in many places,
so there should be many faces more by the glass than by the body,
and each man shall make as many faces to them as they would; but
as ye may see the mind or likeness of your face, which is not the
very face, but the figure thereof, so the bread is the figure or mind
of Christ's body in earth, and therefore Christ said, As oft as ye do
this thing do it in mind of me, Luke xxii.
Also ye say this, As a man may light many candles at one candle,
and yet the light of that candle is never the more nor ever the less.
So ye say that the manhood of Christ descendeth into each part of
every host, and the manhood of Christ is never the more nor less.
Where then becometh your ministrations? For if a man light
many candles at one candle, as long as they burn there will be many
candles lighted, and as well the last candle as the first; and so by
this reason, if ye shall fetch your word at God, and make God, there




CHLRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST. 123
must needs be many gods, and that is forbidden in the first com
mandment, Exod. xx. And as for making more, either making less,
of Christ's manhood, is lieth not in your power to come there nigh,
neither to touch it, for it is ascended into heaven in a spiritual body,
Matt. xxviii., which he suffered not Mary Magdalen to touch, when
her sins were forgiven to her.
Therefore all the sacraments that are left here in earth are but
minds of the body of Christ, for a sacrament is no more to say but
a sign or mind of a thing passed, or a thing to come; for when
Jesus spake of the bread, and said to his disciples, Luke xxii., As
ye do this thing, do it in mind of me, it was set for a mind of good
things passed of Christ's body; but when the angel showed to John,
Apocalypse xvii., the sacraments of the woman and of the beast that
bare her, it was set for a mind of evil things to come on the face of
the earth, and great destroying of the people of God. And in the
old law there were many figures or minds of things to come. For
before Christ, circumcision was commanded by a law; and he that
kept not the law was slain. And yet St. Paul saith, Rom., ii. And
neither is it circumcision that is openly in the flesh, but he that is
circumcised of heart in spirit, not the letter whose praising is not of
men, but of God. Peter saith in the third chapter of his epistle,
And so baptism of like form maketh not us safe, but the putting
away of the filthiness of the flesh, and the having of good conscience in God by the again rising of our Lord Jesus Christ from
death, that we should be made heirs of everlasting life, he went up
into heaven, and angels, and powers, and virtues, are made subjects
to Him.
And also the Scripture saith of John Baptist, Matt. iii., that he
preached in the wilderness and said, A stronger than I shall come
after me, and I am not worthy to kneel down and unlace his shoe
and yet Christ said that he was more than a prophet. See also
Isaiah xl. Matt. xi. How may ye then say that ye are worthy to make
his body, and yet your works bear witness that ye are less than the
prophets, for if ye were not, ye should not teach the people to worship the sacraments or minds* of Christ for Christ himself; which
sacraments or figures are lawful as God taught them and left them
unto us, as the sacrifices or minds of the old law were full good.
As it is written, They that kept them should live in them, Paul,
Rom. x. And so the bread that Christ brake was left to us for mind
of things passed for the body of Christ, that we should believe he
was a very man in kind as we are, but as God in power, and that
* Remembrances.




124                    WICKLIFFE.
his manhood was sustained by food as ours. For St. Paul saith L.e
was very man, and in form he was found as man. And so we
must believe that he was very God and very man together, and that
he ascended up very God and very man to heaven, and that he
shall be there till he come to doom the world. And we may not
see him bodily, being in this life, as it is written, Peter i., For he
saith, Whom ye have not ye love, into whom ye now not seeing
believe. And John saith in the first chapter of his Gospel, No man
saw God; none but the only-begotten Son that is in the bosom of
the Father, He hath told it out. And John saith in his first epistle,
the third chapter, Every man that sinneth seeth not him, neither
1:noweth him. By what reason then say ye that are sinners that
ye make God? truly this must needs be the worst sin, to say that
ye make God, and it is the abomination of discomfort that is said
in Daniel the prophet to be standing in the holy place; he that read.
eth let him understand.
Also Luke saith, chap. xxii., that Christ took the cup after that
he had supped, and gave thanks and said, This cup is the new testa.
ment in my blood that shall be shed into the remission of sins for
man. Now, what say ye; the cup which he said was the new testament in his blood, was it a material cup in which the wine was that
he gave his disciples wine of, or was it his most blessed body in
which the blessed blood was kept till it was shed out for the sins of
them that should be made safe by his passion? Needs must we say
that he spake of his holy body, as he did when he called his passion
or suffering in body a cup, when he prayed to his father, before he
went to his passion, Matt. xxvi., and said, If it be possible that this
cup pass from me, but if thou wilt that I drink it, thy will be done?
He spake not here of the material cup in which he had given his
disciples drink; for it troubled not him, but he prayed for his great
sufferance and bitter death, the which he suffered for our sins and
not for his own. And if he spake of his holy body and passion
when he said, This cup is the new testament in my blood, so he
spake of his holy body, when he said, This is my body which shall
be given for you, and not of the material bread which he had in
his hand. Also in another place he calleth his passion a cup, Matt.
xx., where the mother of Zebedee's sons came to him, and asked
of him that her two sons, when he came to his kingdom, might sit
one on his right side, and one at his left side. And he answered
and said, Woman, thou wottest not what thou asketh; then he said
to them, May ye drink of the cup that I shall drink? and they said,
Yea, Lord. And he said, Ye shall drink of my cup, but to sit ox




CHRIST'S REAL BODY NOT IN THE EUCHARIST. 125
my right hand or left hand it is not mine to give, but to the
Father it is proper. But in that he said, Ye shall drink of my cup,
he promised them to suffer tribulation of this world as he did, by
the which they should enter into life everlasting, and to be both on
his right hand. And thus ye nmay see that Christ spake not of the
material cup, neither of himself, nor of his apostles, neither of ma.
terial bread, neither of material wine. Therefore let every man
wisely, with meek prayers, and great study, and also charity, read
the words of God and holy Scriptures; but many of you are like
the mother of Zebedee's sons to whom Christ said, Thou knowest
not what thou askest. So, many of you know not what ye ask, nor
what you do; for if ye did, ye would not blaspheme God as ye do,
to set an alien God instead of the living God. Also Christ saith,
John xv., I am a very* vine; wherefore then worship ye not the
vine for God, as ye do the bread? Wherein was Christ a very
vine, or wherein was the bread Christ's body, in figurative speech,
which is hidden to the understanding of sinners? Then if Christ
became not a material or an earthly vine, neither did a material vine
become the body of Christ. So neither the bread, material bread,
was changed from its substance to the flesh and blood of Christ.
Have ye not read in John the second, when Christ came into the
temple, they asked of him what token he would show, that they
might believe him. And he answered them, Cast down this temple, and in three days I shall raise it again; which words were ful.
filled in his rising again from death  but when he said, Undo this
temple, in that that he said this, they were in error, for they understood it fleshly, and had supposed that he had spoken of the temple
of Jerusalem, because he stood in it. And therefore they accused
him at his passion full falsely. Matt. xxvi. For he spake of the
temple of his blessed body, which rose again in the third day. And
right so Christ spake of his holy body when he said, This is my
body which shall be given for you, Luke xxii., which was given to
death, and to rising again to bliss, for all that shall be saved by him.
But like as they accused him falsely of the temple of Jerusalem, so
now-a-days they accuse falsely against Christ, and say that Christ
spake of the bread that he brake among his apostles; for in that
Christ said this, they are deceived, take it fleshly, and turn it to the
material bread, as the Jews did to the temple; and on this false understanding they make abomination of discomfort, as is said by
Daniel the prophet, and in Matthew xxiv., to be standing in the
holy place.  he that readeth let him understand.
* True.




126                    WICKLIFFE.
Now, therefore, pray we heartily to God, that this evil may be
made short for the chosen men, as he hath promised in his blessed
Gospel. Matt. xxiv. And the large and broad way that leadeth tc
perdition may be stopped, and the strait and narrow way that leadeth to bliss may be made open by Holy Scriptures, that we may
know which is the will of God, to serve him in truth and holiness
n the dread of God, that we may find by him a way of blis ever..asting. So be it.




DISCOURSE TENTH
HUGH LATIMER.
I'r is precisely three hundred years, this very day,*since Latimer was
burned alive at the stake, by the decree of Bloody Mary, uttering those
memorable and truly prophetic words to his companion in the flames,' Be of good oomfort, Brother 1Ridley, and play the man, we shall this
day light such a candle, by God's grace, in mEngland, as, I trust, never
shall be put out." He was now old and gray-headed, for he was born,
the son of an humble but pious yeoman, about the year 1480, at Thurcaston, in the county of Leicester, England. Latimer received his early
education at Cambridge, and in 1509 was elected Fellow of Clare Hall.
Up to the age of thirty he was a most violent and bigoted papist; but
was brought to the knowledge of the truth through the personal conversation of Bilney, then a student at Cambridge; and henceforth, to use
his own words, "began to smell the Word of God, and forsook the
school-doctors, and such fooleries."
Becoming an earnest preacher of the truth which he once opposed, he
incurred the persecution of the papists, but was licensed by Cardinal
Wolsey, before whom he was accused; and soon called into particular
notice, as Henry the Eighth now began to throw off the shackles of the
Pope of Rome. In the year 1535, Latimer was appointed to the Bishopric of Worcester, where he promoted the Reformation to the utmost
of his ability, and did much to procure the authorized publication of
the Bible in English. In 1539, when Gardner and other Romish ecclesiastics had prejudiced the mind of the king, and secured the passage of
articles restoring some of the leading points of Popery, Latimer resigned
his official position, and retired to private life, whence he was soon called,
at the instigation of Bishop Gardner, and committed to prison in the
Tower, where he remained six years. On the accession of Edward VI.
he was set at liberty, and during this reign constantly preached the
Gospel, both at court and in various parts of the country. When Queen
Mary succeeded to the throne, Latimer was cited to appear for trial
before a council, and well knew that it was for his life. He passed
* 16th of October, 1855.




128                  HUGH LATIMER.
through Smithfield on his way, and said of that place, that it " had long
groaned for him," expecting to die where so many had been burned in
previous years. He was committed again to the Tower, and confined
in a cell with three others, Cranmer, Ridley, and Bradford. In 1554
the three bishops were removed to Oxford, where they were tried, con.
demned, and imprisoned. They were finally brought before the comn.
missioners appointed by the Pope, September 30, 1555; the aged Lati.
mer girded as to his waist " with a penny leathern girdle, at which his
New Testament hung by a string of leather, and his spectacles, without
case, depending about his neck upon his breast." On the 16th of Oc.
tober, Latimer and Ridley were led forth to the place of execution, in
front of Baliol College, on the north side of Oxford, where they were
compelled to hear their doctrines and characters aspersed in a sermon
by a renegade priest. They were then fastened to the stake by a chain
around the middle of the body, a bag of gunpowder was tied to the neck
of each, the faggots were fired, and the martyrs were consumed, calling
upon the name of the Lord.
Latimer ranks high in the first quality of a preacher-that he preached
Christ, and salvation without human merit. His sermons were not
learned, and many of his anecdotes and illustrations would not suit the
modern taste. But he always insisted on the cardinal doctrine, that
justification is not by works, and that Christ, by the one only oblation
of his body, sanctified forever those that believe. In courage, too, Lati.
mer has never been excelled. To the king he said, " If your grace allow
me for a preacher, I would desire your grace to give me leave to dis.
charge my conscience."  "Latimer, ZLatimer," he exclaimed, at the
beginning of one of his sermons, " thou art going to speak before the
high and mighty King Henry VIII., who is able, if he think fit, to take
thy life away. Be careful what thou sayest. But Latimer, Latimer,
remember also that thou art about to speak before the Kings of kings,
and Lord of lords. Take heed that thou dost not displease him." His
reverenceefor the Scripture was equal to his courage. " I would be ruled
by God's book," said he; "and rather than depart one jot from it, I
would be torn by wild horses."  Of some who complained, he said, "I
would rather follow Paul, though they had all the doctors on their side."
In his daily life Latimer exemplified what he preached. He visited the
narrow chambers of the students, and the dark rooms of the workingclasses, and " watered with good deeds whatsoever he had before planted
by godly words."
As apowerful preacher Latimer has been rarely equaled, and perhaps
never excelled. His enemies, "though swelling, blown full, and puffed
up, like AEsop's frog, with envy and malice against him," as Becon has
it, returned from hearing him with the words of exaggeration, " Never
spake like this man." His style is lively and cheerful, and though in his
sermons we meet with many quaint, odd, and coarse things, yet we




SERMON  OF THE  PLOW.                     129
every where discover the traces of his homely wit, his racy manner, his
keen observation, his manly freedom, his playful temper, and his simplicity and sincerity of heart. Says a well-known English divine, " If a
combination of sound Gospel doctrine, plain Saxon language, boldness,
liveliness, directness, and simplicity, can make a preacher, few, I suspect,
have ever equaled old Latimer."
It was customary with the preachers of Latimer's day, oftentimes, to
seize upon some singular topic to engage the attention of their hearers,
which may account for the odd title of the sermon which follows. It
was preached in 1548, when Latimer must have been nearly seventy
years of age, and perhaps in no one of his discourses (of which the very
rarj extant editions contain forty-five) does the great martyr-preacher
appear to better advantage.
SERMON OF THE PLOW.
"For whatsoever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning." —RoL.
xv., 4.
All things that are written in God's book, in the Bible book, in
the book of the Holy Scripture, are written to be our doctrine. I
told you in my first sermon,* honorable audience, that I proposed
to declare unto you two things, the one, what seed should be sown
in God's field, in God's plow-land; and the other, who should be
the sowers.
That is to say, what doctrine is to be taught in Christ's Church
and congregation, and what men should be the teachers and preachers of it. The first part I have told you in the three sermons past,
in which I have assayed to set forth my plow, to prove what I could
do. And now I shall tell you who are the plowers; for God's word
is seed to be sown in God's field, that is, the faithful congregation,
and the preacher is the sower. And it is said in the Gospel; "He
that soweth, the husbandman, the plowman, went forth to sow his
seed." So that a preacher is compared to a plowman, as it is in
another place: " No man that putteth his hand to the plow, and
looketh back, is apt for the kingdom of God," (Luke ix.)  That is
to say, let no preacher be negligent in doing his office. This is one
of the places that has been racked,t as I told you of racking Scrip.
tares, and I have been one of them myself that have racked it, I cry
* The sermon here mentioned has not been preserved.
t Wrested or perverted.
9




130                  HUGH LATIMER.
God mercy for it; and have been one of them that have believed,
and have expounded it against religious persons that would forsake
their order which they had professed, and would go out of their
cloister; whereas indeed it relates not to monkery, nor makes at all
for any such matter; but it is directly spoken of diligent preaching
of the word of God. For preaching of the Gospel is one of God's
plow-works, and the preacher is one of God's plowmen.
Be not offended with my similitude, in that I compare preaching
to the labor and work of plowing, and the preacher to a plowman;
ye may not be offended with this my similitude, though I have been
unjustly slandered by some persons for such thing. *  *  *  *  *
But as preachers must be wary and circumspect, that they give not
any just occasion to be slandered and ill spoken of by the hearers,
so the auditors must not be offended without cause. For heaven is
in the Gospel likened unto a mustard-seed: it is compared also to a
piece of leaven; and Christ saith, that at the last day he will come
like a thief; and what dishonor is this to God? Or what derogation
is this to heaven? You should not then, I say, be offended with my
similitude, because I liken preaching to a plowman's labor, and a
prelate to a plowman. But now you will ask me, whom I call a
prelate? A prelate is that man, whatsoever he is, that has a flock
to be taught by him; whosoever has any spiritual charge in the
faithful congregation, and whosoever he is that has a cure of souls.
Well may the preacher and the plowman be likened together;
first, for their labor at all seasons of the year; for there is no time
of the year in which the plowman has not some special work to do;
as in my country in Leicestershire, the plowman has a time to set
forth, and to assay his plow, and other times for other necessary
works to be done. And they also may be likened together for the
diversity of works, and variety of offices that they have to do
For as the plowman first sets forth his plow, and then tills the land,
and breaks it in furrows, and sometimes ridges it up again; and at
another time harrows it and clotteth it,  and sometimes dungs it and
hedges it, digs it and weeds it, and makes it clean; so the prelate,
the preacher, has many diverse offices to do. He has first a busy
work to bring his parishioners to a right faith, as Paul calleth it; and
not a swerving t faith, but to a faith that embraces Christ, and trusts
to his merits; a lively faith, a justifying faith; a faith that makes a
man righteous, without respect of works; as you have it very well
declared and set forth in the homily. He has then a busy work, I
say, to bring his flock to a right faith, and then to confirm them in the
* Breaks the clods.                     t Wandering, changing.




SERMON OF THE PLOW.                    131
same faith. Now casting them down with the law, and with threat.
enings of God for sin; now ridging them up again with the Gospel,
and with the promises of God's favor. Now weeding them, by telling them their faults, and making them forsake sin; now clotting
them, by breaking their stony hearts, and by making them supplehearted, and making them to have hearts of flesh; that is, soft
hearts, and apt for doctrine to enter in. Now teaching to know God
rightly, and to know their duty to God and their neighbors. Now
exhorting them when they know their duty, that they do it, and be
diligent in it; so that they have a continual work to do. Great is
their business, and therefore great should be their hire. They have
great labors, and therefore they ought to have good livings, that
they may commodiously feed their flock; for the preaching of the
word of God unto the people, is called meat; Scripture calls it meat;
not strawberries, that come but once a year, and tarry not long, but
are soon gone; but it is meat, it is not dainties. The people must
have meat, that is familiar and continual, and daily given unto them
to feed upon. Many make a strawberry of it, ministering it but
once a year; but such do not the office of good prelates. For Christ
saith, "Who think you is a wise and a faithful servant? He that
giveth meat in due time." So that he must at all times convenient
preach diligently; therefore saith He, " Who, think ye, is a faithful
servant?" He speaks as though it were a rare thing to find such a
one, and as though He should say, there are but few of them to be
found in the world. And how few of them there are throughout
this realm that give meat to their flock as they should do, the visitors can best tell. Too few, too few, the more is the pity, and never
so few as now.
By this then it appears that a prelate, or any that has the cure
of souls must diligently and substantially work and labor. Therefore, saith Paul to Timothy, "He that desireth to have the office of
a bishop, or a prelate, that man desireth a good work." Then if it
is a good work, it is work; you can make but a work of it. It is
God's work, God's plow, and that plow God would have still going.
Such then as loiter and live idly, are not good prelates, or ministers.
And of such as do not preach and teach, and do their duties, God
saith by his prophet Jeremy, " Cursed be the man that doth the work
of God fraudulently, guilefully, or deceitfully; some books have it
negligently or slackly." How many such prelates, how many such
bishops, Lord, for Thy mercy, are there now in England? And what
shall we in this case do? shall we company with them?  0 Lord,
for Thy mercy I shall we not company with them? O Lord, whither




182                   HUGH LATIMER.
shall we flee from them? But " Cursed be he that doth the work
of God negligently or guilefully."  A sore word for them that are
negligent in discharging their office, or have done it fraudulently
for that is the thing which makes the people ill.
But it must be true that Christ saith, " Many are called, but few
are chosen." (Matt. xxii.) Here I have an occasion by the way
to say somewhat unto you; yea, for the place that I alleged unto
you before out of Jeremy, the forty-eighth chapter. And it was
spoken of a spiritual work of God, a work that was commanded to
be done, and it was of shedding blood, and of destroying the cities
of Moab. For, saith he, "Cursed be he that keepeth back his sword
from shedding of blood."  As Saul, when he kept back the sword
from shedding of blood, at the time he was sent against Amalek,
was refused of God for being disobedient to God's commandment,
in that he spared Agag the king. So that place of the prophet
was spoken of them that went to the destruction of the cities of
Moab, among which there was one called Nebo, which was much
reproved for idolatry, superstition, pride, avarice, cruelty, tyranny,
and hardness of heart; and these sins were plagued of God and
destroyed.
Now what shall we say of these rich citizens of London? what
shall I say of them? Shall I call them proud men of London,
malicious men of London, merciless men of London? No, no, I
may not say so; they will be offended with me then. Yet must I
speak. For is there not reigning in London as much pride, as much
covetousness, as much cruelty, as much oppression, and as much
superstition, as there was in Nebo? Yes, I think, and much more too.
Therefore, I say, Repent, 0 London I repent, repent. Thou hearest
thy faults told thee; amend them, amend them. I think, if Nebo
had had the preaching that thou hast, they would have converted.
And, you rulers and officers, be wise and circumspect, look to your
charge, and see you do your duties; and rather be glad to amend
your ill living than be angry when you are warned or told of your
fault. What ado was there made in London at a certain man,
because he said (and indeed at that time on a just cause), " Burgesses," quoth he, "nay, butterflies."*  What ado there was for
that word I and yet would that they were no worse than butterflies.
Butterflies do but their nature; the butterfly is not covetous, is not
* This was spoken in allusion to the fickle conduct of many of the London citizens
a few years before. In the latter part of the reign of Henry VIIL, when the king
hearkened again to his popish counselors, many citizens became favorers of Romanism
who had promoted the Reformation at first.




SERMON OF T.E PLOW.                   133
greedy of cther men's goods; is not full of envy and hatred, is not
malicicus, is not cruel, is not merciless. The butterfly glories not
in her own deeds, nor prefers the traditions of men before God's
word; it commits not idolatry, nor worships false gods. But London can not abide to be rebuked; such is the nature of men. If
they are pricked, they will kick; if they are galled, they will
wince; but yet they will not amend their faults, they will not be
ill spoken of. But how shall I speak well of them? If you would
be content to receive and follow the word of God, and favor good
preachers, if you could bear to be told of your faults, if you could
amend when you hear of them, if you could be glad to reform that
which is amiss; if I might see any such inclination in you, that you
would leave off being merciless, and begin to be charitable, I would
then hope well of you, I would then speak well of you. But London was never so ill as it is now. In times past men were full of
pity and compassion, but now there is no pity; for in London their
brother shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick at the door,
and perish there for hunger. Was there ever more unmercifulness
in Nebo? I think not. In times past, when any rich man died in
London, they were wont to help the poor scholars of the universities
with exhibitions. When any man died, they would bequeath great
sums of money toward the relief of the poor. When I was a
scholar in Cambridge myself, I heard very good report of London,
and knew many that had relief from the rich men of London; but
now I hear no such good report, and yet I inquire of it, and hearken
for it; but now charity is waxen cold, none helps the scholar nor
yet the poor. And in those days, what did they when they helped
the scholars? They maintained and gave them livings who were
very papists, and professed the Pope's doctrine: and now that the
knowledge of God's word is brought to light, and many earnestly
study and labor to set it forth, now hardly any man helps to main
tain them.
Oh London, London I repent, repent; for I think God is more
displeased with London than ever he was with the city of Nebo.
Repent, therefore; repent, London, and remember that the same God
liveth now that punished Nebo, even the same God, and none other;
and He will punish sin as well now as He did then: and He will
punish the iniquity of London as well as He did them of Nebo.
Amend, therefore. And you that are prelates, look well to your
office; for right prelating is busy laboring, and not lording. Therefore preach and teach, and let your plow be going. Ye lords, I say,
that live like loiterers, look well to your office-the plow is yotu




134                  HUGH LATIMER.
office and charge. If you live idle and loiter, you do not your
duty, you follow not your vocation; let your plow therefore be
going, and not cease, that the ground may bring forth fruit.
But now methinks I hear one say unto me: " Wot ye what you
say?  Is it a work?  Is it a labor?  How then hath it happened
that we have had for so many hundred years so many unpreaching
prelates, lording loiterers, and idle ministers?" You would have
me here to make answer, and to show the cause thereof. Nay, this
land is not for me to plow, it is too stony, too thorny, too hard for
me to plow. They have so many things that make for them, so
many things to say for themselves, that it is not for my weak team
to plow them. They have to say for themselves long customs,
ceremonies, and authority, placing in Parliament, and many things
more. And I fear this land is not yet ripe to be plowed; for, as the
saying is, it lacketh weathering: it lacketh weathering, at least it is
not for me to plow. For what shall I look for among thorns, but
pricking and scratching? What among stones, but stumbling?
What, I had almost said, among serpents, but stinging? But this
much I dare say, that since lording and loitering hath come up,
preaching hath come down, contrary to the apostles' time: for they
preached and lorded not, and now they lord and preach not. For
they that are lords will ill go to plow: it is no meet office for them;
it is not seeming for their estate. Thus came up lording loiterers:
thus crept in unpreaching prelates, and so have they long continued.
For how many unlearned prelates have we now at this day! And
no marvel; for if the plowmen that now are were made lords, they
would give over plowing; they would leave off their labor, and fall
to lording outright, and let the plow stand: and then both plows
not walking,* nothing should be in the commonweal but hunger.
For ever since the prelates were made lords and nobles, their plow
standeth, there is no work done, the people starve. They hawk,
they hunt, they card, they dice, they pastime in their prelacies with
gallant gentlemen, with their dancing minions, and with their fresh
companions, so that plowing is set aside. And by the lording and
loitering, preaching and plowing is clean gone. And thus, if the
plowmen of the country were as negligent in their office as prelates
are, we should not long live, for lack of sustenance. And as it is
necessary to have this plowing for the sustentation of the body, so
must we have also the other for the satisfaction of the soul, or else
we can not live long spiritually. For as the body wastes and con.
sumes away for lack of bodily meat, so the soul pines away for de
* Working.




SERMON OF THE PLOW.                     135
fault of spiritual meat. But there are two kinds of inclosing, to
hinder both these kinds of plowing; the one is an inclosing to hinder the bodily plowing, and the other to hinder the holy day plow.
ing, the Church plowing.
The bodily plowing is taken in and inclosed for the gain of indi
viduals. For what man will let go or diminish his private advantage for a commonwealth? And who will sustain any damage
for public benefit? The other plow also no man is diligent to set
forward, and no man will hearken to it. But to hinder it all men's
ears are open; yea, and there are a great many of this kind of
plowmen, who are very busy, and would seem to be very good
workmen: I fear some are rather mock-gospelers than faithful plowmen. I know many myself that profess the Gospel, and live nothing thereafter. I know them, and have been conversaat with some
of them. I know them, and I speak it with a heavy heart, there is
as little charity and good* living in them as in any oth.ers, according
to that which Christ said in the Gospel to the great number of people that followed Him; as though they had an earnest zeal for His
doctrine, whereas indeed they had it not: "Y'c follow me," saith He,
" not because ye have seen the signs and miracles that I have done;
but because ye have eaten the bread, and iefreshed your bodies;
therefore you follow Me." So that I think many now-a-days profess the Gospel for the living's sake, not for the love they bear to
God's word. But they that will be true plowmen must work faithfully for God's sake, for the edifying of their brethren. And as
diligently as the husbandman ploweth for the sustentation of the
body, so diligently must the prelates and ministers labor for the
feeding of the soul; both the plows must still be going, as most
necessary for man. And wherefore are magistrates ordained, but
that the tranquillity of the commonweal may be confirmed, limiting
both plows?
But now for the fault of unpreaching prelates, methinks I could
guess what might be said for excusing or them. They are so troubled with lordly living, they are so pla-ed in palaces, couched in
courts, ruffling in their rents, dancing in their dominions, burdened
with embassages, pampering themselves like a monk that maketh
his jubilee; and moilingt in their gay manors and mansions, and so
troubled with loitering in their lordships, that they can not attend
it. They are otherwise occupied, some in the king's matters, some
are embassadors, some of the privy council, some to furnish the
* Holy and virtuou&                          t Drudging.




136                  HUGH LATIMER.
court, some are lords of the Parliament, some are presidents, and
some comptrollers of mints.*
Well, well, is this their duty? Is this their offine? Is this their
calling? Should we have ministers of the Church to be comptrol.
lers of the mints? Is this a meet office for a priest that hath cure
of souls?  Is this his charge?  I would here ask one question; I
would fain know who controlleth the devil at home in his parish,
while he controlleth the mint? If the apostles might not leave the
office of preaching to the deacons, shall one leave it for minting?
I can not tell you; but the saying is, that since priests have been
minters, money hath been worse than it was before. And they say
that the evilness of money hath made all things dearer. And in
this behalf I must speak to England.  "Hear, my country, England," as Paul said in his first epistle to the Corinthians, the sixth
chapter; for Paul was no sitting bishop, but a walking and a preaching bishop-but when he went from them, he left there behind him
the plow going still; for he wrote unto them, and rebuked them for
going to law, and pleading their causes before heathen judges: "Is
there," saith he, "among you no wise man, to be an arbitrator in
matters of judgment? What, not one of all that can judge between brother and brother; but one brother goeth to law with
another, and that before heathen judges? Appoint those for judges
that are most abject and vile in the congregation." Which he
speaks to rebuke them; " For," saith he, " I speak it to your shame."
So, England, I speak it to thy shame; is there never a nobleman
to be a lord-president, but it must be a prelate? Is there never
a wise man in the realm to be a comptroller of the mint? I speak
it to your shame. I speak it to your shame. If there be never a
wise man, make a water-bearer, a tinker, a cobbler, a slave, a page,
comptroller of the mint: make a mean gentleman, a groom, a yeoman, or a poor beggar, lord-president.
Thus I speak, not that I would have it so; but to your shame, if
there is never a gentleman meet or able to be lord-president. For
why are not the noblemen and young gentlemen of England so
brought up in knowledge of God, and in learning, that they may
be able to execute offices in the commonweal? The king has a
great many wards, and I trow there is a court of wards; why is
there not a school for the wards, as well as there is a court for their
lands?  Why are they not set in schools where they may learn?
Or why are they not sent to the universities, that they may be able
* The popish prelates who are described by Latimer in this and the preceding para
graphs, were accustomed to hold offices of state, and to be concerned in the government




SERMON OF THE PLOW.                   137
to serve the king when they come to age? If the wards and young
gentlemen were well brought up in learning, and in the knowledge
of God, they would not when they come to age so much give themselves to other vanities. And if the nobility be well trained in
godly learning, the people would follow the same train. For truly,
such as the noblemen are, such will the people be. And now, the
only cause why noblemen are not made lord-presidents, is because
they have not been brought up in learning.
Therefore for the love of God appoint teachers and schoolmasters,
you that have charge of youth; and give the teachers stipends
worthy their pains, that they may bring them up in grammar, in
logic, in rhetoric, in philosophy, in the civil law, and in that which
I can not leave unspoken, of the word of God. Thanks be unto
God, the nobility otherwise is very well brought up in learning and
godliness, to the great joy and comfort of England; so that there is
now good hope in the youth, that we shall another day have a flourishing commonweal, considering their godly education. Yea, and
there are already noblemen enough, though not so many as I would
wish, able to be lord-presidents, and wise men enough for the mint.
And as unmeet a thing it is for bishops to be lord-presidents, or
priests to be minters, as it was for the Corinthians to plead matters
of variance before heathen judges. It is also a slander to the noblemen, as though they lacked wisdom and learning to be able for such
offices, or else were no men of conscience, or else were not meet to
be trusted, and able for such offices. And a prelate has a charge
and cure otherwise; and therefore he can not discharge his duty,and be a lord-president too. For a presidentship requireth a whole
man; and a bishop can not be two men. A bishop has his office, a
flock to teach, to look unto; and therefore he can not meddle with
another office, which alone requires a whole man; he should therefobre give it over to whom it is meet, and labor in his own business;
as Paul writes to the Thessalonians, "Let every man do his own
business, and follow his calling." Let the priest preach, and the
nobleman handle the temporal matters. Moses was a marvelous
man, a good man: Moses was a wonderful man, and did his duty,
being a married man: we lack such as Moses was. Well, I would
all men would look to their duty, as God hath called them, and then
we should have a flourishing Christian commonweal.
And now I would ask a strange question; who is the most diligent bishop and prelate in all England, that passes all the rest in
doing his office? I can tell, for I know who it is; I know him well.
But now I think I see you listening and hearkening that I should




138                  HUGH LATIMER.
name him. There is one that passes all the other, and is the most
diligent prelate and preacher in all England. And will ye know
who it is? I will tell you-it is the Devil. He is the most diligent
preacher of all others; he is never out of his diocese; he is never
from his cure: you shall never find him unoccupied; he is ever in
his parish; he keeps residence at all times; you shall never find
him out of the way; call for him when you will he is ever at home.
He is the most diligent preacher in all the realm; he is ever at his
plow; no lording nor loitering can hinder him; he is ever applying his business, you shall never find him idle I warrant you. And
ais office is to hinder religion, to maintain superstition, to set up
idolatry, to teach all kinds of popery. He is ready as can be wished
for to set forth his plow; to devise as many ways as can be to deface and obscure God's glory. Where the devil is resident, and has
his plow going, there away with books and up with candles;* away
with Bibles and up with beads; away with the light of the Gospel,
and up with the light of candles, yea, at noon-day. Where the
devil is resident, that he may prevail, up with all superstition and
idolatry; censing, painting of images, candles, palms, ashes, holy
water, and new service of men's inventing; as though man could
invent a better way to honor God with, than God Himself hath appointed. Down with Christ's cross, up with purgatory pickpurse,t
up with him, the popish purgatory, I mean. Away with clothing
the naked, the poor and impotent, up with decking of images, and
gay garnishing of stocks and stones: up with man's traditions and
his laws, down with God's traditions and his most holy word.
Down with the old honor due to God, and up with the new god's
honor. Let all things be done in Latin: there must be nothing but
Latin, not so much as "Remember man that thou art ashes, and
into ashes shalt thou return:" which are the words that the minister
speaketh unto the ignorant people, when he gives them ashes upon
Ash-Wednesday, but it must be spoken in Latin. God's word may
in no wise be translated into English.
Oh that our prelates would be as diligent to sow the corn of good
doctrine, as Satan is to sow cockle and darnel! And this is the devilish plowing, which worketh to have things in Latin, and hinders
the fruitful edification. But here some man will say to me, What,
sir, are you so privy to the devil's counsel that you know all this to
be true?-True I know him too well, and have obeyed him a lit* The lighted tapers used in the popish services.
f Alluding to the vast sums extorted under pretense of praying for the souls in rI>
gatory.




SERMON OF THE PLOW.                     I 4J
tle too much in condescending to some follies; and. know him as
other men do, yea that he is ever occupied, and ever busy in following his plow. I know by St. Peter, who saith of him, "He
goeth about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour." I
would have this text well viewed and examined, every word of it:
" He goeth about" in every corner of his diocese; he goeth on visttation daily, he leaves no place of his cure unvisited: he walks
sund about from place to place, and ceases not. "1 As a lion," that
is, strongly, boldly, and proudly; stately and fiercely, with haughty
looks, with his proud countenances, with his stately braggings.
"' Roaring;" for he lets not any occasion slip, to speak or to roar out
when he seeth his time. " He goeth about seeking," and not sleep.
ing, as our bishops do; but he seeketh diligently, he searcheth diligently all corners, where he may have his prey. He roveth abroad in
every place of his diocese; he standeth not still, he is never at rest,
but ever in hand with his plow, that it may go forward. But there
was never such a preacher in England as he is. Who is able to tell
his diligent preaching, which every day, and every hour, labors to
sow cockle and darnel, that he may bring out of form, and out of
estimation and renown, the institution of the Lord's Supper and
Christ's cross? For there he lost his right; for Christ said, "Now
is the judgment of this world, and the prince of this world shall be
cast out. And as Moses did lift up the serpent in the wilderness,
so must the Son of man be lift up. (John iii.) And when I shall
be lift up from the earth, I will draw all things unto Myself."-For
the devil was disappointed of his purpose; for he thought all to be
his own: and when he had once brought Christ to the cross, he
thought all was sure.
But there lost he all reigning: for Christ said, "' I will draw all
things to Myself."  He means, drawing of man's soul to salvation.
And that He said He would do by His own self; not by any other
sacrifice. He meant by His own sacrifice on the cross, where He
offered Himself for the redemption of mankind; and not the sacrifice
of the mass, to be offered by another. For who can offer Him but
Himself?  He was both the Offerer and the Offering. And this is
the mark at which the devil shooteth, to evacuate* the cross of
Christ, and to mangle the institution of the Lord's Supper; which,
although he can not bring to pass, yet he goes about bv his sleights
and subtle means to frustrate the same; and these fifteen hundred
years he has been a doer, only purposing to make Christ's death of
small efficacy and virtue. For whereas Christ, " according as the
* To empty, or make of none effect.




14:                   HUGH LATIMER.
serpent vas lifted up in the wilderness," so would Hle Bimself be
exalted; that thereby as many as trusted in Him should have salvation; but the devil would none of that. They would have us saved
by a daily oblation propitiatory; by a sacrifice expiatory, or
remissory.*
Now if I should preach in the country, among the unlearned, I
gwould tell what propitiatory, expiatory, and remissory mean; but here
is a learned auditory: yet for them that are unlearned I will expoun1
it. Propitiatory, expiatory, remissory, or satisfactory, for they signify
all one thing in effect, and it is nothing else but whereby to obtair
remission of sins, and to have salvation. And this way the devi
used to evacuate the death of Christ, that we might have affiance ir
other things, as in the daily sacrifice of the priest; whereas Christ
would have us to trust in His sacrifice alone. So He was " the Lamb
that hath been slain from the beginning of the world;" and therefore
He is called " a Continual Sacrifice; and not for the continuance of
the mass, as the blanchers have blanched it, and wrested it, and as I
myself did once mistake it. But Paul saith, "By Himself, and by
none other, Christ made purgation and satisfaction for the whole
world."
Would that this word, by Himself, had been better weighed and
looked upon, and to make them holy; for Christ is a continual sacrifice, in effect, fruit, and operation; that like as they, who, seeing the
serpent hang up in the desert, were put in remembrance of Christ's
death, in whom as many as believed were saved; so all men that
trusted in the death of Christ shall be saved, as well they that were
before, as they that come after. For He was a continual sacrifice, as
I said in effect, fruit, operation, and virtue. As though He had from
the beginning of the world, and continually should to the world's
end, hang still on the cross; and He is as fresh hanging on the cross
now, to them that believe and trust in Him, as He was fifteen hundred years ago, when He was crucified.
Then let us trust upon His death alone, and look for no other sacrifice propitiatory, than the same bloody sacrifice, the lively sacrifice;
and not the dry sacrifice,t but a bloody sacrifice. For Christ Him.
self said, " It is perfectly finished:" " I have taken at My Father's
hand the dispensation of redeeming mankind, I have wrought man's
redemption, and have dispatched the matter." Why then mangle
* It the Romish Church the mass is offered daily, as a sacrifice for the remission
of sins.
t The papists distinguish the sacrifice of the mass from the actual death of Christ
upon the cross by calling it " an unbloody sacrifice."




SERMON OR THE PLOW.                    141
ye Him? Why do ye divide Him? Why make you of Him more
sacrifices than one? Paul saith, "Christ our passover is offered
up:" so that the thing is done, and Christ hath done it, and He hath
done it once for all: and it was a bloody sacrifice, not a dry sacrifice.
Why then, it is not the mass that avails or profits for the quick
and the dead. Woe to thee, O devil, woe to thee that hast prevailed
so far and so long; that hast made England to worship false gods,
forsaking Christ their Lord. Woe to thee, devil, woe to thee, devil,
and all thy angels. If Christ by His death draw all things to Himself, and draws all men to salvation, and to heavenly bliss, that trust
in Him-then the priests at the mass, at the Popish mass, I say,
what can they draw, when Christ draweth all, but lands and goods
from the right heirs? The priests draw goods and riches, benefices
and promotions to themselves; and such as believed in their sacrifices they draw to the devil. But Christ is He that draweth souls
unto Him by His bloody sacrifice. What have we to do then, but
to eat in the Lord at His Supper?
What other service have we to do to Him, and what other sacrifice have we to offer, but the mortification of our flesh? What
other oblation have we to make but of obedience, of good living, of
good works, and of helping our neighbors? But as for our redemption, it is done already, it can not be done better: Christ has done
that so well that it can not be amended. It can not be devised how
to make that any better than He hath done it. But the devil, by
the help of that Italian bishop* yonder, his chaplain, has labored
by all means that he might, to frustrate the death of Christ and the
merits of His passion. And they have devised for that purpose to
make us believe in other vain things by his pardons; as to have
remission of sins for praying on hallowed beads; for drinking of the
bake-house bowl; as a canon of Waltham Abbey once told me, that
whenever they put their loaves of bread into the oven, as many as
drank of the pardon bowl should have pardon for drinking of it. A
mad thing, to give pardon to a bowl I Then to Pope Alexander's
holy water, to hallowed bells, palms, candles, ashes, and what not I
And of these things, every one has taken away some part of Christ's
sanctification; every one has robbed some part of Christ's passion
and cross, and has mingled Christ's death, and has been made to be
propitiatory and satisfactory, and to put away sin. Yea, and Alex.
ander's holy water yet at this day remains in England, and is used
for a remedy against spirits, and to chase away devils; yea, and I
would this had been the worst. I would this were the worst. But
* The Pope.




142                  HUGH LATIMER.
woe worth thee, 0 devil, that hast prevailed to evacuate Chr.st's
cross, and to mangle the Lord's Supper. These are the Italian
bishop's devices, and the devil has shot at this mark to frustrate the
cross of Christ: he shot at this mark long before Christ came; he
shot at it four thousand years before Christ hanged on the cross, or
suffered his passion.
For the brazen serpent was set up in the wilderness to put men
in remembrance of Christ's coming; that as they which beheld the
brazen serpent were healed of their bodily diseases, so they that
looked spiritually upon Christ that was to come, in Him should be
saved spiritually from the devil. The serpent was set up in memory
of Christ to come, but the devil found means to steal away the
memory of Christ's coming, and brought the people to worship the
serpent itself, and to cense him, to honor him, and to offer to him,
to worship him, and to make an idol of him. And this was done
by the market men that I told you of. And the clerk of the market
did it for the lucre and advantage of his master, that thereby his
honor might increase; for by Christ's death he could have but small
worldly advantage. And so even now has he certain blanchers*
belonging to the market, to stop the light of the Gospel, and to
hinder the king's proceedings in setting forth the word and glory
of God. And when the king's majesty, with the advice of his honorable council, goes about to promote God's word, and to set an
order in matters of religion, there shall not lack blanchers that will
say, As for images, whereas they have used to be censed, and to
have candles offered unto them, none are so foolish as to do it to
the stock or stone, or to the image itself; but it is done to God and
His honor, before the image. And though they should abuse it,
these blanchers will be ready to whisper the king in the ear, and to
tell him that this abuse is but a small matter; and that the same,
with all other like abuses in the Church, may be reformed easily.
"It is but a little abuse," say they,," and it may be easily amended.
But it should not be taken in hand at the first, for fear of trouble or
further inconveniences. The people will not bear sudden alterations;
an insurection may be made after sudden mutation, which may be to
the great harm and loss of the realm. Therefore all things shall be
well, but not out of hand, for fear of further business." These are
the blanchers that hitherto have stopped the word of God, and
hindered the true setting forth of the same. There are so many putoffs, so many put-bys, so many respects and considerations of
worldly wisdom. And I doubt not but there were blanchers in the
* White-washers, persons who gloss over popish doctrines and practices




SERMON OF THE PLOW.                      143
Ald time to whisper in the ear of good King Hezekiah, for the maintenance of idolatry done to the brazen serpent, as well as there have
been now of late, and are now, that can blanch the abuse of images,
and other like things.
But good King Hezekiah would not be so blinded; he was like to
Apo.os, fervent in spirit. He would give no ear to the blanchers;
he was not moved with these worldly respects, with these prudent
considerations, with these policies; he feared not insurrections of the
people; he feared not lest his people would not bear the glory of
God, but he (without any of these respects, or policies, or considerations,like a good king, for God's sake and for conscience' sake) presently plucked down the brazen serpent, and destroyed it utterly, and
beat it to powder. He out of hand cast out all images, he destroyed
all idolatry, and clearly extirpated all superstition. He would not
hear these blanchers and worldly wise men, but without delay fol.
lowed God's cause, and destroyed all idolatry out of hand. Thus
did good King Hezekiah; for he was like Apollos, fervent in spirit,
and diligent to promote God's glory.
And good hope there is that it shall be likewise here in England;
for the king's majesty* is so brought up in knowledge, virtue, and
godliness, that it is not to be mistrusted but that we shall have all
things well, and that the glory of God shall be spread abroad
throughout all parts of the realm, if the prelates will diligently apply
to their plow, and be preachers rather than lords. But our blanchers,
who will be lords, and no laborers, when they are commanded to go
and reside upon their cures, and preach in their benefices, they would
say, Why? I have set a deputy there; I have a deputy that looks
well to my flock, who shall discharge my duty. A deputy, quoth
he, I looked for that word all this while. And what a deputy must
he be. t.row ye? Even one like himself; he must be a Canonist;
that is to say, one that is brought up in the study of the Pope's laws
and decrees; one that will set forth papistry as well as himself will
do; and one that will maintain all superstition and idolatry; and one
that will not at all, or else very weakly, resist the devil's plow; yea,
happy it is if he take no part with the devil; and where he should
be an enemy to him, it is well if he take not the devil's part against
Christ. But in the mean time, the prelates take their pleasures.
They are lords, and no laborers; but the devil is diligent at his plow.
He is no unpreaching prelate; he is no lordly loiterer from his cure;
but a busy plowman; * * * * he still applieth his business
* Edward VI. had then just succeeded to the throne, and the grosser corrupticns of
the Church of Rome were t ing removed.




144                 HUGH LATIMER.
Therefore, ye unpreaching prelates, learn of the devil; to be dili.
gent in doing of your office, learn of the devil; and if you will not
learn of God, nor good men, for shame learn of the devil; " I speak
it for your shame;" if you will not learn of God, nor good men, to be
diligent in your office, learn of the devil. Howbeit there is now
very good hope that the king's majesty, being by the help of good
governance of his most honorable counselors, trained and brought
up in learning, and knowledge of God's word, will shortly provide
a remedy, and set an order herein; which thing that it may so be,
let us pray for him. Pray for him, good people; pray for him.
You have great cause and need to pray for him.




DISCOURSE ELEVEN
JOHN JEWELL.
JOHN JEWELL was born on the 24th of May, 1522, at Buden, in
Devonshire; and educated at Oxford, where he took the degree of
Bachelor of Arts in 1540, became a noted tutor, and was soon after
chosen to the chair of Rhetoric. He had early imbibed the principles
of the Reformation, and upon the accession of Edward the Sixth, made
a public declaration of his faith, and became a bosom friend of the celebrated Peter Martyr, who had been invited from Germany, and was now
professor at Oxford. When Queen Mary came to the throne, and cast
her influence in favor of the papacy, Jewell was expelled from the college; and although making a forced subscription to the popish doctrines, he was compelled. to flee for safety to the Continent. He returned
to England in 1558, at the death of Mary, and in the following year was
made Bishop of Salisbury where he led an irreproachable and highly
useful life until the time of his death, which occurred in September,
1571, in the fiftieth year of his age. The writings of Jewell are somewhat extensive; the most noted of which is his apology of the Church
of England, containing reasons for departing from the see of Rome.
Jewell was the most accomplished scholar who had yet appeared in the
Reformed Church; for hitherto the clergy were too intimately involved
in the fierce struggles of the times to allow of much attention to the
department of literature and composition. The style of the Reformer is
pure and racy; and in reading him we often meet with passages of rich
and flowing elo lucence. The follow ing, which is the peroration of his
famous Challenge Sermon, has been rega:ded as perhaps the best specimen. The sermon was preached at Paul's Cross, March 30, 1560, to an
immense congregation, and gave a most severe blow to the popish religion in England. It startled the papists at home and abroad; and was
warmly written against, especially by Dr. John Harding, one of the
divines of Louvain, and the most learned man of the College.
10




146                   JOHN JEWELL
CHALLENGE TO THE PAPISTS.
"For I have received of the Lord that which also I delivered unto you; that the
Lord Jesus, the same night in which He was betrayed, took bread," etc.-1 Co-. xi. 23.
Here the matter itself that I have now in hand putteth me in
remembrance of certain things that I uttered unto you, to the same
purpose, at my last being in this place. I remember I laid out then
here before you, a number of things that are now in controversy,
whereunto our adversaries will not yield. And I said, perhaps
boldly, as it might then seem to some men, but I myself, and the
learned of our adversaries do well know, sincerely and truly, That
none of them that this day stand against us are able, or shall ever
be able, to prove against us any one of all those points, either by
the Scriptures, or by example of the primitive Church, or by the old
doctors, or by the ancient general councils.
Since that time it hath been reported in places that I spoke then
more than I was to justify and make good. Howbeit, these reports
were only made in corners, and therefore ought the less to trouble
me. But if my sayings had been so weak, and might so easily have
been reproved, I marvel that the parties never yet came to the light
to take the advantage. For my promise was, and that openly, here
before you all, that if any man were able to prove the contrary, I
would yield and subscribe to him; and he should depart with the
victory. Loath I am to trouble you with a rehearsal of such things
as I have spoken afore; and yet, because the case so requireth, I
shall desire you that have already heard me to bear the more with
me in this behalf. Better it were to trouble your ears with twice
hearing of one thing than to betray the truth.of God.
The words that I then spake, as near as I can call them to mind,
were these: If any learned man, of all our adversaries, or if all the
learned men that be alive, be able to bring any one sufficient
sentence out of any old Catholic doctor or father, or out of any old
general council, or out of the Holy Scriptures of God, or any one
example of the primitive Church, whereby it may be clearly and
plainly proved that there was any private mass in the whole world
at that time, for the space of six hundred years after Christ; or
that there was then any communion ministered unto the people
under one kind, or that the people had their common prayers then
in a strange tongue that they understood not; or that the Bishop of
Rome was then called an universal bishop, or the head of the uni




CHALLENGE TO THE PAPISTS                    147
versal Church; or that the people was then taught to believe that
Christ's body was really, substantially, corporally, carnally, or naturally, in the sacrament, or that His body is, or may be, in a thousand
places or more at one time; or that the priest did then hold up the
sacrament over his head; or that the people did then fall down and
worship it with godly honor; or that the sacrament was then, or
now ought to be, hanged up under a canopy; or that in the sacrament, after the words of consecration, there remaineth only the accidents and shows without the substance of bread and wine; or that
the priest then divided the sacrament in three parts, and afterward
received it himself all alone; or that whosoever had said the sacrament is a figure, a pledge, a token, or a remembrance of Christ's
body, had therefore been judged for an heretic; or that it was law
ful then to have thirty, twenty, fifteen, ten, or five masses said in
one church in one day; or that images were then set up in the
churches to the intent the people might worship them; or that the
lay people was then forbidden to read the Word of God in their own
tongue:-if any man alive were able to prove any of these articles,
by any one clear or plain clause or sentence either of the Scriptures
or of the old doctors, or of any old general council, or by any example of the primitive Church, I promised them that I would give
over and subscribe unto him.
These words are the very like, I remember, I spake here openly
before you all. And these be the things that some men say I have
spoken and can not justify. But I, for my part, will not only not
call in any thing that I then said (being well assured of the truth
therein), but also will lay more matter to the same; that if they
that seek occasion have any thing to the contrary, they may have
the larger scope to reply against me.
Wherefore, besides all that I have said already, I will say further, and yet nothing so much as might be said. If any one of all
our adversaries be able clearly and plainly to prove, by such authority of the Scriptures, the old doctors, and councils, as I said
before, that it was then lawful for the priest to pronounce the words
of consecration closely and in silence to himself; or that the priest
had then authority to offer up Christ unto His Father; or to communicate and receive the sacrament for another as they do; or to
apply the virtue of Christ's death and passion to any man by the
mean of the mass; or that it was then thought a sound doctrine to
teach the people that the mass, ex opere operato, that is, even for that
it is said done, is able to remove any part of our sin; or that then
any Christian man called the sacrament his Lord and God; or that




148                   JOHN JEWELL.
the people was then taught to believe that the body of Christ ie.
maineth in the sacrament as long as the accidents of the bread remain there without corruption; or that a mouse, or any other beast
or worm may eat the body of Christ (for so some of our adversaries
have said and taught); or, that when Christ said, Hoc est corpus
menm, this word hoc pointeth not the bread, but individuum vagum,
as some of them say; or that the accidents, or forms, or shows, of
bread and wine be the sacraments of Christ's body and blood, and
not rather the very bread and wine itself; or that the sacrament is
a sign or token of the body of Christ that lieth hidden underneath
it; or that ignorance is the mother and cause of true devotion and
obedience;-these be the highest mysteries and greatest keys of
their religion, and without them their doctrine can never be maintained and stand upright; if any one of all our adversaries be able
to avouch any one of all these articles, by any such sufficient authority of Scripture, doctors, or councils as I have required, as I
said before, so say I now again, I am content to yield unto him,
and to subscribe. But I am well assured that they shall never be
able truly to allege one sentence. And because I know it, therefore
I speak it, lest ye haply should be deceived.
All this notwithstanding ye have heard men in times past allege
unto you councils, doctors, antiquities, successions, and long-continuance of time, to the contrary. And an easy matter it was to do
especially before them that lack either leisure, or judgment, to examine their proofs. On a time Mithridates, the King of Pontus,
laid siege to Cizicum, a town joined in friendship to the city of
Rome, which thing the Romans hearing, sent out a gentleman of
theirs, named Lucullus, to raise the siege. After that Lucullus was
within the sight of the town, and showed himself with his company
upon the side of an hill, thence to give courage to the citizens
within, that were besieged, Mithridates, to cast them into despair,
and cause them the rather to yield to him, made it to be noised, and
bare them in hand, that all that new company of soldiers was his,
sent for purposely by him, against the city. All that notwithstand.
ing the citizens within kept the walls, and yielded not. Lucullus
came on, raised the siege, vanquished Mithridates, and slew his men.
Even so, good people, is there now a siege laid to your walls; an
army of doctors and councils show themselves upon the hills, the
adversary that would have you yield beareth you in hand that they
are their soldiers and stand on their side. But keep your hold: the
doctors and old Catholic Fathers in the points that I have spoken of
are yours; ye shall see the siege raised, ye shall see your adversa




CHALLENGE TO THE PAPISTS.                    149
ties discomfited, and put to flight. The Pelagians were able to
allege St. Augustine, as for themselves; yet when the matter came
to proof, he was against them. Helvidius was able to allege Tert-ullian, as making for himself; but in trial he was against him. Eutyches alleged Julius Romanus for himself; yet indeed was Julius
most against him. The same Eutyches alleged for himself Athanasius and Cyprian; but in conclusion they stood both against him.
Nestorius alleged the councils of Nice, yet was the same council
found against him. Even so they that have advanced themselves
of doctors and councils, and continuance of time in any of these
points, when they shall be called to trial to show their proofs, they
shall open their hands and find nothing. I speak not this of arro.
gancy (Thou, Lord, knowest it best, that knowest all things): but
forasmuch as it is God's cause and the truth of God, I should dc
God injury if I should conceal it. But to return again to our mattel.
In the time of Peter and James, neither was there any man that
ever heard the name of Masses (for Missa was never named until
four hundred years after Christ-and yet then was it no private
mass neither, but a communion) nor yet were the pieces and parts
of the mass, as we in our times have seen them, set together. And
what mass could that be, that as yet had neither its own name nor
its parts? But forasmuch as they affirm so constantly that St. James
said mass at Jerusalem, and whatsoever it were that he said, will
needs have it called by the name of a mass; let us compare their
mass and St. James's mass both together. St. James said his mass in
the common tongue, as the people might understand him: they say
their mass in a strange Latin tongue, that the people should not know
what they mean. St. James spake out the words of consecration
distinctly and plainly: they, in their mass, suppress the same words
and keep them close. St. James in his mass ministered the communion unto the people: they in their mass receive themselves all
alone. St. James in his mass ministered the sacrament unto the
people under both kinds: they in their mass have only a number
of dumb gestures and ceremonies, which they themselves understand
not, and make no manner of mention of Christ's death. St. James's
mass was full of knowledge: their mass is full of ignorance. St.
James's mass was full of consolation: their mass is full of superstition. When St. James said mass, the people resorted to receive the
sacrament: when they say mass, the people resorteth to look upon
only, and to behold the sacrament. And to conclude, St. James in
his mass had Christ's institution: they in their mass have well near
nothing else but man's invention.




150                  JOHN JEWELL.
Such indifference ye may see between St. James's mass and
theirs. 0 that St. Paul were now alive and saw the behavior and
order of the priest at their mass I Think ye that he would take
it and account it for the Lord's Supper? when he had espied but
one fault in the holy communion among the Corinthians, straightway he rebuked them, and called them back to Christ's institution:
" This," saith he, "I received of the Lord, and the same I gave over
unto you."
But if he saw the disorder that we have seen, would he not be
moved as much against us now as he was sometime against the Corinthians? Would he not pull us back to the institution of Christ
as he did them? Would he not say unto us. Did I ever teach you
to minister the holy communion in a strange language? Did I ever
teach you to receive the communion privately to yourselves alone,
and so to disdain and to despise your brethren? Did I ever teach
you to minister the communion to the people in one kind? Did
I ever teach you to say mass, or to receive the sacrament, for the
people? Did I ever teach you the idle follies of your canon? Did
I ever teach you to offer up the Son of God unto the Father?
Did I ever teach you any other propitiary sacrifice for sin than that
of Christ once offered upon the cross? Did I ever teach you to
minister the Lord's Supper wherein the people should nothing else
but look upon and behold your doings, without any kind of knowledge or comfort? Did I ever teach you to lift the sacrament over
your head? Did I ever teach the people to fall down thereunto, and
to worship they know not what? Be these the things that I delivered you? Be these the things that I received of the Lord?  This
would St. Paul say unto us, if he were now alive. Thus would he
reprove us, and call us to the standard and original of the first ap
pointing of the holy sacrament.
Our own inventions and fantasies, wherewith we had filled the
mass, were so many and so gross, that they quite covered and shadowed the death of Christ, and the holy mysteries of our salvation.
Therefore we could not truly say, These things Paul delivered unto
us, or, these things Paul received of the Lord.
Wherefore, forasmuch as we see there have been great and evident abuses and errors in the mass, so plain and so manifest that no
man that hath reason, and will consider them, can deny it, let us
follow the council of St. Paul: let us return to the ordinance of
Christ, unto the true standard that can not fail us. As it is not in
the power of man to appoint sacraments, so is it not in the power
of man to alter or change sacraments. God will not be worshiped




CHALLENGE TO THE PAPISTS.                   151
after our fantasies, and therefore, so oftentimes He chargeth us in the
Scriptures, " Ye shall not do that thing that seemeth good to you in
your own sight: Ye shall not turn neither to the left hand nor to
the right; but what thing so ever I bid you do, that only shall ye
do. Your thoughts be not My thoughts, neither be your ways My
ways, for as far as heaven is from the earth, or the east from the
west, so far off be your thoughts from My thoughts, and your ways
from My ways, saith the Lord."  It is a dangerous thing for a mortal man to control or find fault with the wisdom of the immortal
God.
Tertullian, an old Father of the Church, showeth us the willfulness of man's heart, after it hath once enterprised to presume a little against God's truth and ordinance: First, saith he, they attempt
somewhat beside the Scriptures, to the intent, that afterward they
may gather courage and boldness to do contrary to the Scriptures.
At the end they proceed as far as the Scribes and Pharisees, that
for maintenance of their own traditions despised and brake the
commandments of God. For redress therein, there is no better
way than to follow St. Paul's counsel here, and to have recourse to
God's holy word. 0 that our adversaries, and all they that stand
in defense of the mass this day, would content themselves to be
judged by this rule I 0 that in all the controversies that lie between us and them, they would remit the judgment unto God's
word? so should we soon agree and join together; so should we
deliver nothing unto the people but that we have received at God's
hand.
And if there be any here that have had, or yet have, any good
opinion of the mass, I beseech you for God's sake, even as ye tender your own salvation, suffer not yourselves wilfully to be led
away; run not blindly to your own confusion; think with yourselves, it was not for naught that so many of your brethren rather
suffered themselves to die, and to abide all manner of extremity
and cruelty, than they would be partakers of that thing that you
reckon to be holy. Let their death, let their ashes, let their blood,
that was so abundantly shed before your eyes, somewhat prevail
with you, and move you. Be not ruled by your willful affections:
ye have a good zeal and mind toward God; have it according unto
the knowledge of God. The Jews had a zeal of God, and yet they
crucified the Son of God. Search the Scriptures; there shall ye
find everlasting life. There shall ye learn to judge yourselves, and
your own doings, that ye be not judged of the Lord. If ever it
happen to you to be present again at the mass, think but thus with




152                   JOHN JEWELL.
yourselves: What make I here, what profit have I of my doings?
I hear nothing; I understand nothing; I am taught nothing; I
receive nothing. Christ bade me take: I take nothing: Christ bade
me eat: I eat nothing: Christ bade me drink: I drink nothing: Is
this the institution of Christ?  Is this the Lord's Supper?  Is this
the right use of the holy mysteries? Is this it that Paul delivered
unto me?  Is this it that Paul received of the Lord? Let us say
but this unto ourselves; and, no doubt, God of His mercy will
open our hearts; we shall see our errors, and content ourselves to
be ordered by the wisdom of God: to do that God will have us to
do; to believe that God will have us to believe; to worship that
God will have us worship. So shall we have comfort of the holy
mysteries; so shall we receive the fruits of Christ's death; so shall
we be partakers of Christ's body and blood; so shall Christ truly
dwell in us, and we in Him; so shall all errors be taken from us; so
shall we join all together in God's truth; so shall we all be able with
one heart and one spirit, to know and to glorify the only, the true,
and living God, and His only begotten Son Jesus Christ. Amcn.




DISCOURSE TWELFTH.
JOHN DONNE, D.D.
THIn celebrated poet and divine was born in London, in the year
15'73, and educated, first at Oxford, then at Cambridge, "that he might
receive nourishment from both soils," as Izaak Walton, his biographer,
has it. Shortly after his ordination, he was appointed by King James I.
as one of his Chaplains in Ordinary, and became a royal favorite.
After twenty years of devoted labor in the pulpit, he died March 1,
1631, uttering among his last expressions, these words: "I were miserable, if I might not die." Donne was a most brilliant preacher; pro.
foundly learned, and very often earnest and eloquent; " carrying some
to heaven in holy raptures, and enticing others by a sacred art and persuasiveness to amend their lives." His piety and humility suffered from
contact with the corruption of the Court of King James, and the liter.
ary faults of his age grew up and flourished with his excellencies. It
would seem, also, that his wonderful fancy, and great wit, were not suitably chastened and controlled. But he was earnest in the pursuit of
knowledge, and possessed of a soft heart, full of noble compassion. His
discourses, one hundred and fifty-six in number, are highly characteristic
in their style, extremely ingenious, and illuminated by many rays of
learning, caught from various sources, to a great extent from the writings of the "Fathers."  The sermon which follows contains sentences
of singular strength and beauty of expression, and will convey a fair
idea of Donne's style of preaching. The Latin quotations, which, in
keeping with the custom of his time, are so ostentatiously displayed,
are generally dropped, as they are entirely superfluous, because translated by the preacher himself, and therefore only impede the flow of
thought, and mar the force and beauty of the discourse.
CHRIST'S TRIUMPH IN THE RESURRECTION.
"Therefore let all the house of Israel know assuredly that God hath made that same
Jesus, whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ." —ACTS, ii. 36.
The first word of the text must be the last part of the sermon"therefore;" therefore let all know it. Here is something necessary




154                   JOHN DONNE.
to be known, and the means by which we are to know it; and these
will be our two parts: knowledge, and the way to it; for, qui testatur de scientia, testatur de modo scientice, is a good rule in all laws: he
that will testify any thing upon his knowledge, must declare how
he came by that knowledge. So then, what we must conclude, and
upon what premises, what we must resolve, and what must lead us
to that resolution, are our two stages, our two resting-places: and
to those two our several steps are these: in the first, "Let all the
house of Israel know," etc., we shall consider first, the manner of
St. Peter (for the text is part of a sermon of St. Peter's) in imprinting this knowledge on his auditory; which is, first, in that compellation of love and honor, domus Israel, " the house of Israel:" but
yet, when he hath raised them to a sense of their dignity, in that
attribute, he doth not pamper them with an over value of them; he
lets them know their worst as well as their best:-though you be
the house of Israel, yet it is you that have crucified Christ Jesus:
"that Jesus, whom ye have crucified;" and from this his manner
of preparing them we shall pass to the matter that he proposes to
them: when he had remembered them what God had done for them,
"You are the house of Israel," and what they had done against
God, "You have crucified that Jesus," he imparts a blessed message to them all, "Let all know it:" let them know it, and know it
assuredly; he exhibits it to their reason, to their natural understanding: and what? The greatest mystery, the entire mystery of
our salvation, "that that Jesus is both Lord and Christ;" but He
is made so-made so by God-made both-made Christ; that is,
anointed, embalmed, preserved from corruption, even in the grave,
and made Lord by His triumph, and by being made Head of the
Church, in the resurrection, and in the ascension: and so that which
is the last step of our first stage, " that that Jesus is made Lord, as
well as He is made Christ," enters us upon our second stage, the
means by which we are to know, and prove all this to ourselves;
"therefore," says the text, "let all know it:" wherefore? Why,
because God hath raised Him, after you had crucified Him; because
" God hath loosed the bands of death, because it was impossible
that He should be holden by death;" because David's prophecy of
a deliverance from the grave is fulfilled in Him; therefore let all
know this to be thus. So that the resurrection of Christ is argument enough to prove that Christ is made Lord of all; and if He
be Lord He hath subjects that do as He does; and so His resurrection is become an argument and an assurance of our resurrection
too; and that is as far as we shall go in our second part-that first




CHRIST'S TRIUMPH IN THE RESURRECTION    155
Christ's Iresurrection is proof enough to us of His dominion —if He
be risen, He is Lord; and then His dominion is proof enough to us
of our resurrection, if He be Lord, Lord of us, we shall rise too:
and when we have paced and passed through all these steps, we
shall in some measure have solemnized this day of the resurrection
of Christ; and in some measure have made it the day of our resurrection too.
I. First, then, the apostle applies himself to his auditory in a
fair, in a gentle manner; he gives them their titles, domus Israel,
"the house of Israel."  We have a word now denizened, and
brought into familiar use among us-compliment; and for the most
part, in an ill sense; so it is, when the heart of the speaker doth
not answer his tongue; but God forbid but a true heart and a fair
tongue might very well consist together: as virtue itself receives
an addition by being in a fair body, so do good intentions of the
heart, by being expressed in fair languap. The man aggravates
his condemnation that gives me good words and means ill; but he
gives me a rich jewel, and in a fair cabinet, he gives me precious
wine, and in a clean glass, that intends well, and expresses his good
intentions well too.   *      *       *      *       *
Especially is this manner necessary in men of our profession;
"not to break a bruised reed, nor to quench smoking flax;" not
to avert any, from a will to hear, by any frowardness, any morosity, and defrauding them of their due praise and due titles; but
to accompany this blessed apostle, in this way of his discreet and
religious insinuation, to call them "men of Judea," and " men of
Israel," and 1" men and brethren," and domus Israel, the ancientest
house, the honorablest house, the lastingest house in the world, " the
house of Israel."
He takes from them nothing that is due-that would but exasper.
ate: he is civil, but his civility doth not amount to a flattery, as
though the cause of God needed them, or God must be beholden to
them, or God must pay for it, or smart for it, if they were not
pleased. And therefore, though he do give them their titles, plainly
and without disguise he imputes and puts home to them the crucifying of Christ; how honorably soever they were descended, he
lays that murder close to their consciences: "You, you house of
Israel, have crucified the Lord Jesus." There is a great deal of dif.
ference between Shimei's vociferations against David-" Thou man
of blood, thou man of Belial,"-and Nathan's proceeding with David;
and yet Nathan forbore not to tell him, " Thou art the man;" thou
hast despised the Lord-thou hast killed Uriah-thou hast taken




156                   JOHN DONNE.
his wife. It is one thing to sow pillows under the elbows of kings
(flatterers do so), another thing to pull the chair from under the king,
and popular and seditious men do so. When inferiors insult over
their superiors, we tell them, Christi domini, they are the Lord's
anointed, and the Lord hath said, " Touch not mine anointed;" and
when such superiors insult over the Lord Himself, and think themselves gods without limitation, as the God of heaven is, when they
do so, we must tell them they do so, etsi Christi domini, though you
be the Lord's anointed, yet you crucify the anointed Lord; for this
was St. Peter's method, though his successor will not be bound
by it.
When he hath carried the matter thus evenly between them, I
do not deny but you are the house of Israel, you can not deny
but you have crucified the Lord Jesus; you are heirs of a great
deal of honor, but you are guilty of a shrewd fault too, stand or
fall to your Master, your Master hath dealt thus mercifully with you
all that to you all, all, He sends a message, &Siant omnes, " Let all
the house of Israel know this." Needs the house of Israel know
any thing? Needs there any learning in persons of honor? We
know this characterizes, this distinguishes some whole nations. In
one nation it is almost a scorn for a gentleman to be learned; in
another almost every gentleman is conveniently, and in some measure, learned. But I enlarge not myself; I pretend not to comprehend national virtues, or national vices. For this knowledge which
is proclaimed here, which is the knowledge that the true Messias is
come, and that there is no other to be expected, is such a knowledge as that even the house of Israel itself is without a foundation
if it be without this knowledge. Is there any house that needs no
reparations? Is there a house of Israel (let it be the library, the
depository of the oracles of God, a true Church, that hath the true
word of the true God, let it be the house fed with manna, that hath
the true administration of the true sacraments of Christ Jesus), is
there any such house that needs not a further knowledge' that there
are always thieves about that house that would rob us of that
word, and of those sacraments?
The Holy Ghost is a dove, and the dove couples, pairs, is not
alone. Take heed of singular, of schismatical opinions; and what is
more singular, more schismatical, than when all religion is confined
in one man's breast? The dove is animal sociale, a sociable creature,
and not singular; and the Holy Ghost is that. And Christ is a
sheep, animal gregale, they flock together. Embrace thou those
truths which the whole flock of Christ Jesus, the whole Christian,




CHRIST'S TRIUMPH IN THE RESURRECTION.  157
hath from the beginning acknowledged to be truths, and truths nec.
essary to salvation; for, for other traditional, and conditional, and
occasional, and collateral, and circumstantial points; for almanacdivinity, that changes with the season, with the time, and meridional
divinity, calculated to the height of such a place, and lunary divinity, that ebbs and flows, and state divinity, that obeys affections of
persons, domus Israel, the true Church of God had need of a continual succession of light, a continual assistance of the Spirit of God,
and of her own industry, to know those things that belong to her
peace.
And therefore let no church, no man, think that he hath done
enough, or knows enough. If the devil thought so too we might
the better think so: but since we see that he is in continual practice
against us let us be in continual diligence and watchfulness to coun.
termine him. We are domus Israel, the house of Israel, and it is a
great measure of knowledge that God hath afforded us; but if every
pastor look into his parish, and every master into his own family,
and see what is practicing there, sciat domus Israel, let all our Israel
know that there is more knowledge and more wisdom necessary.
Be every man far from calumniating his superiors for that mercy
which is used toward them that are fallen; but be every man as far
from remitting or slackening his diligence for the preserving of them
that are not fallen.
The wisest must know more, though you be the house of Israel
already; and then, though you have crucified the Lord Jesus you
may know it, let all know it. St. Paul says once, "If they had
known it they would not have crucified the Lord of life;" but he
never says if they have crucified the Lord of life they are excluded
from knowledge. I mean no more but that the mercy of God, in
manifesting and applying Himself to us, is above all our sins. No
man knows enough; what measure of tentations soever he have
now, he may have tentations through which this knowledge and
this grace will not carry him; and therefore he must proceed from
grace to grace. So no man hath sinned so deeply but that God
offers Himself to him yet; Sciant omnes, the wisest man hath ever
something to learn, he must not presume; the sinfulest man hath
God ever ready to teach him, he must not despair.
Now the universality of this mercy hath God enlarged, and ex
tended very far in that He proposes it, even to our knowledge,
Sciant, let all know it. It is not only credant, let all believe it, for
the infusing of faith, is not in our power; but God hath put it in
our power to satisfy their reason, and to chafe that wax, to which




158                    JOHN DONNE.
He Himself vouchsafes to set the great seal of faith. And that St.
Jerome takes to be most properly his commission: Let us endeavor
to assist them who are weak in the faith with the strength of reason.
And truly it is very well worthy of a serious consideration that
whereas all the articles of our creed are objects of faith, so as that
we are bound to receive them de fide, as matters of faith, yet God
hath left that, out of which all those articles are to be deduced and
proved (that is, the Scripture) to human arguments. It is not an
article of the creed to believe these, and these books, to be or not to
be canonical Scripture; but our arguments for the Scripture are
human arguments, proportioned to the reason of a natural man. God
does not seal in the water, in the fluid and transitory imaginations,
and opinions of men; we never set the seal of faith to them; but in
wax, in the rectified reason of man, that reason that is ductile, and
flexible, and pliant to the impressions that are naturally proportioned
unto it, God sets his seal of faith. They are not continual, but they
are contiguous; they flow not from one another, but they touch one
another; they are not both of a piece, but they enwrap one another
-faith and reason. Faith itself, by the prophet Isaiah, is called
knowledge.  " By His knowledge shall My righteous servant justify
many," says God of Christ; that is, by that knowledge that men
shall have of Him. So Zacharias expresses it at the circumcision of
John Baptist, "that he was to give knowledge of salvation for the
remission of sins."
As therefore it is not enough for us, in our profession, to tell you,
"Except you believe all this you shall be damned," without we
execute that commission before, "go and preach," work upon their
affections, satisfy their reason; so it is not enough for you to rest in
an imaginary faith and easiness in believing, except you know also
what, and why, and how you come to that belief. Implicit believers,
ignorant believers, the adversary may swallow; but the understanding
believer, he must chew, and pick bones, before he come to assimilate
him, and make him like himself. The implicit believer stands
in an open field, and the enemy will ride over him easily; the
understanding believer is in a fenced town, and he bath outworks to
lose before the town be pressed; that is, reasons to be answered
before his faith be shaken, and he will sell himself dear, and lose
himself by inches, if he be sold or lost at last; and therefore, sciant
omnes, let all men know, that is, endeavor to inform themselves-to
understand.
That particular, that general particular (if we may say so, for it




CHtRIST'S TRIUMPH IN THE RESURRECTION. 159
includes all,) which all were to know, is, that the same Jesus, whom
they crucified, was exalted above them all.
Suppose an impossibility (St. Paul does so, when he says to the
Galatians, " If an angel from heaven should preach any other Gospel; for that is impossible"). If we could have been in paradise,
and seen God take a clod of red earth, and make that wretched clod
of contemptible earth such a body as should be fit to receive His
breath, an immortal soul-fit to be the house of the second person
in the Trinity, for God the Son to dwell in bodily-fit to be the temple for the third person, for the Holy Ghost, should we not have
wondered more than at the productions of all other creatures? It is
more, that the same Jesus, whom they had crucified, is exalted thus,
to sit in that despised flesh, at the right hand of our glorious God;
that all their spitting should but macerate Him, and dissolve Him to
a better mold, a better plaster; that all their buffetings should but
knead Him, and press Him into a better form; that all their scoffs
and contumelies should be prophecies; that that Ecce rex, " Behold
your king;" and that Rex Judceorum, "This is the king of the
Jews," which words they who spoke them  thought to be lies, in
their own mouths should become truths, and He be truly the King,
not of the Jews only, but of all nations too; that their nailing Him
upon the cross, should be a settling of Him upon an everlasting
throne; and their lifting Him upon the cross, a waiting upon Him sc
far upon His way to heaven; that this Jesus, whom they had thus
evacuated, thus crucified, should be thus exalted, was a subject of
infinite admiration, but mixed with infinite confusion too.
Wretched blasphemer of the name of Jesus, that Jesus, whom
thou crucifiest, and treadest under thy feet in that oath, is thus exalted. Unclean adulterer, that Jesus, whom thou crucifiest, lu
stretching out those forbidden arms in a strange bed, thou that be
headest thyself, castest off thy head, Christ Jesus, that thou mightest
make thy body the body of a harlot, that Jesus whom thou defilest
there, is exalted. Let several sinners pass this through their several
sins, and remember with wonder, but with confusion too, that that
Jesus, whom they have crucified, is exalted above all.
How far exalted? Three steps, which carry Him above St. Paul's
third heaven; He is Lord, and He is Christ, and He is made so by
God; God has made Him both Lord and Christ. We return up
these steps as they lie, and take the lowest first: God made Him so;
nature did not make Him so; no, not if we consider Him in that nature, wherein he consists of two natures, God and man. We place
in the school (for the most part) the infinite merit of Christ Jesus




160                  JOHN DONNE.
(that His one act of dying once should be a sufficient satisfaction to
God, in His justice, for all the sins of all men), we place it, I say,
rather in pacto, than in persona; rather that this contract was thus
made between the Father and the Son than that, whatsoever that
person, thus consisting of God and man, should do, should, only in
respect of the person, be of an infinite value and extention to that
purpose; for then, any act of His, His incarnation, His circumcision, any had been sufficient for our redemption, without His death.
But God made Him that that He is; the contract between the Father
and Him, that all that He did should be done so, and to that purpose, that way, and to that end; this is that that bath exalted Him,
and us in Him.
If, then, not the subtlety and curiosity, but the wisdom of the
school, and of the Church of God, have justly found it most commodious to place all the mysteries of our religion in pacto, rather
than in persona, in the covenant, rather than in the person, though
a person of incomprehensible value; let us also, in applying to ourselves those mysteries of our religion, still rely upon the covenant
of God with man, revealed in His word, and not upon the person of
any man; not upon the persons of martyrs, as if they had done
more than they needed for themselves, and might relieve us with
their supererogations; for, if they may work for us, they may be.
lieve for us; and says the prophet, " The righteous shall live by his
own faith." Not upon that person who hath made himself supernumerary and a controller upon the three persons in the Trinity, the
Bishop of Rome; not upon the consideration of accidents upon persons, when God suffers some to fall who would have advanced His
cause, and some to be advanced who would have thrown down His
cause; but let us ever dwell in pacto, and in the fecit Deus; this
covenant God has made in His word, and in this we rest.
It is God then, not nature, not His nature that made Him. And
what? Christ, Christ is anointed; and then, Mary Magdalen made
Him Christ, for she anointed Him before His death; and Joseph of
Arimathea made Him Christ, for he anointed Him and embalmed
Him after His death. But her anointing before kept Him not from
death; nor would his anointing after have kept Him from putrefaction in the grave, if God had not in a far other manner made Him
Christ, anointed Him above His fellows. God hath anointed Him,
embalmed Him, enwrapped Him in the leaves of the prophets, that
His flesh should not see corruption in the grave; that the flames of
hell should not take hold of Him, nor singe Him there; so anointed
Him as that, in His human nature, " He is ascended into heaven.




CHRIST'S TRIUMPH IN THE RESURRECTION.  161
and set down at the right hand of God;" that making of Him Christ,
that is, that anointing which St. Peter speaks of in this place, is the
dignifying of His human nature, that was anointed, that was con
secrated, that was glorified in heaven.
But He had a higher step than that; God made this Jesus Christ,
and He made Him Lord; He brought Him to heaven in His own
person, in His human nature; so He shall all of us; but when we shall
be all there, He only shall be Lord of all. And if there should be
no other bodies in heaven than His, yet, yet now He is Lord of all,
as He is Head of the Church. "Ask of me," says His Father, "and
I will give Thee the heathen for Thine inheritance, and the uttermost
parts of the earth for Thy possession." And, as it is added, " I have
set My King upon My holy hill of Sion;" so He hath made Him
Lord, Head of the Jews and of the Gentiles too, of Sion and of the
nations also; He hath consecrated His person, raised His human
nature to the glorious region of blessed spirits, to heaven; and He
hath dignified Him with an office, made Him Lord, Head of the
Church, not only of Jews and Gentiles upon earth, but of the militant and triumphant Church too.
II. Our two general parts were what we must all know, and by
what we must know it. Our knowledge is this exaltation of Jesus;
and our means is implied in the first word of the text, " therefore;"
therefore, because He is raised from the dead; for to that resurrection, expressed in three or four several phrases before the text, is
this text and this exaltation referred. Christ was delivered for our
sins, raised for our justification, and upon that depends all. Christ's
descending into hell and His resurrection, in our creed, make but
one article, and in our creed we believe them both alike. Says St.
Augustine, " Who but an infidel will deny Christ's descending into
hell?" and if we believe that to be a limb of the article of the resurrection, His descent into hell must rather be a commencement of
His triumph than a consummation of His exninanition; the first step
of His exaltation there, rather than the last step of His passion upon
the cross: but the declaration, the manifestation, that which admits
no disputation, was His resurrection. Says St. Cyril, "He was made
Christ and Lord;" that is, declared evidently to be so by His resurrection: as there is the like phrase in St. Paul, " God hath made the
wisdom of this world foolishness," that is, declared it to be so.
And therefore, it is imputed to be a crucifying of the Lord Jesus
again, not to believe that now, after His having overcome death in
His resurrection, He is in an immortal and in a glorious state in
heaven.  For when the Apostle argues thus, "If Christ be not
11




162                    JOHN  DONNE.
risen, then is our preaching in vain, and your faith in vain," he
implies the contrary too; if you believe the resurrection, we have
preached to good purpose. St. Augustine says, "The heathen
confess Christ's death; to believe His resurrection is the proper
character of a Christian;" for the first stone of the Christian faith
was laid in this article of the resurrection. In the resurrection
only was the first promise performed, " He shall bruise the serpent's
head;" for, in this, He triumphed over death and hell; and the last
stone of our faith is laid in the same article, too, that is, the day of
judgment: of a day of judgment God hath given an assurance unto
all men (says St. Paul at Athens), "in that He hath raised Christ
Jesus from the dead."  In this Christ makes up His circle; in this
He is truly alpha and omega, His coming in paradise in a promise,
His coming to judgment in the clouds, are tied together in the resurrection; and therefore all the Gospel, all our preaching, is contracted to that one text, " to bear witness of the resurrection;" only
for that was there need of a new apostle; " There was a necessity of
one to be chosen in Judas's room, to be a witness of the resurrection." He does not say, to bear witness of the other articles, but
only of the resurrection; he charges him with no more instructions;
he needs no more in his commission, but to preach the resurrection.
Here is a retreat from the whole warfare; here is a trophy erected
upon the last enemy; "the last enemy that shall be destroyed is
death;" and here is the death of that enemy in the resurrection.
And, therefore, to all those who importuned Him for a sign,
Christ still turns upon the resurrection. The Jews pressed Him in
general, "What sign showest Thou unto us?" and He answers,
"Destroy this temple" (this body), " and in three days I will raise
it." In another place, the Scribes and Pharisees join, "Master, we
would see a sign from Thee;" and He tells them, " There shall be
no sign but the sign of the prophet Jonas," who was a type of the
resurrection. And then the Pharisees and Sadducees join. Now
they were bitter enemies to one another; but, as Tertullian says,
"It was always Christ's case to be crucified between two thieves."
So these, though enemies, join in this vexation: they ask a sign, as
the rest, and, as to the rest, Christ gives that answer of Jonas. So
that Christ Himself determines all, sums up all, in this one article,
the resurrection.
Now, if the resurrection of this Jesus have made Him not only
Christ, anointed and consecrated in heaven, in His own person, but
made Him Lord, then He hath subjects, upon whom that dominion
and that power works, and so we have assurance of a resurrection iu,




CHRIST'S TRIUMPH  IN THE RESURRECTION.  163
Him too. That He is made Lord of us by His resurrection is quoted
in prophecy: " It pleased the Lord to bruise Him," says the prophet
Isaiah; " but He shall see His seed, and He shall prolong His days;"
that is, He shall see those that are regenerate in Him live with Him
forever. It is quoted in prophecy, and it spreads forth in the Gospel. " To this end," says the Apostle, " Christ died and rose, that
He might be Lord of the dead and of the living." Now, what kind
of Lord if He had no subjects? Gregory asks, "When the head is
above water, will any imagine the body to be drowned?" What a
nerverse consideration were it to imagine a live head and dead members?  Or, consider our bodies in ourselves, and our bodies are
temples of the Holy Ghost; and shall the temples of the Holy
Ghost lie forever, forever, buried in their rubbish? They shall not;
for the day of judgment is the day of regeneration, as it is called in
the Gospel; " Because our body shall be regenerated by glory there,
as our souls are by faith here," says Augustine. Therefore Tertullian calls the resurrection exemplumn spei nostrce, the original, out of
which we copy out our hope; and clavem seputchrorum nostrorum,
the key of our sepulchers. How hard soever my grave be locked,
yet with that key, with the application of the resurrection of Christ
Jesus, it will open. And they are all names which express this
well, which Tertullian gives Christ, that He is the pledge, the host.
age. the surety of our resurrection. So doth that also which is said
in the school, " Without Adam there had been no such thing as
death; without Christ, no such thing as a resurrection."  But (as
the prophet speaks) " the breaker is gone up before, and they have
passed through the gate;" that is, assuredly, infallibly, they shall pass
But what needs all this heat, all this animosity, all this vehemence
about the resurrection. May not man be happy enough in heaven,
though his body never come thither? Upon what will ye ground
the resurrection? Upon the omnipotence of God?  It was well
said, and often repeated among the ancients, "the omnipotence of
God hath always been the sanctuary of heretics," that is, always their
refuge in all their incredible doctrines —God is able to do it, can do
it. You confess the resurrection is a miracle; and miracles are not
to be multiplied or imagined without necessity; and what necessity
of bodies in heaven?
Beloved, we make the ground and foundation of the resurrection
to be, not merely the omnipotency of God, for God will not do all
that He can do; but the ground is, the almighty will of God revealed
by Him to us. And therefore Christ joins both these together, 4' Ye
err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God;" that is, not




164                    JOHN DONNE.
considering the power of God, as it is revealed in the Scriptures: for
there is our foundation of this doctrine; we know out of the omnipotence of God it may be, and we know out of the Scriptures it must
be: that works upon our faith, this upon our reason; that it is man
that must be saved, man that must be damned; and to constitute a
man there must be a body as well as a soul. Nay, the immortality
of the soul will not so well lie in proof, without a resuming of the
body. For, upon those words of the Apostle, " If there were no
resurrection we were the miserablest of all men," the school reasons
reasonably: naturally the soul and body are united; when they are
separated by death, it is contrary to nature, which nature still affects
this union; and consequently the soul is the less perfect for this separation: and it is not likely that the perfect natural state of the soul,
which is to be united to the body, should last but three or four score
years, and in most much less, and the unperfect state, that is, the
separation, should last eternally, forever: so that either the body
must be believed to live again, or the soul believed to die.
Never, therefore, dispute against thine own happiness; never
say, God asks the heart, that is, the soul, and therefore rewards the
soul, or punishes the soul, and hath no respect to the body. Says
Tertullian, never go about to separate the thoughts of the heart from
the college, from the fellowship of the body; all that the soul does,
it does in, and with, and by the body. And therefore (says he also)
the body is washed in baptism, but it is that the soul might be made
clean; in all unctions, whether that which was then in use in baptism, or that which was in use at our transmigration and passage out
of this world, the body was anointed that the soul might be consecrated. Says Tertullian still, the body is signed with the cross, that
the soul might be armed against temptations; and again, " My body
received the body of Christ, that my soul might partake of His merits." He extends it into many particulars, and sums up all thus,
"' These two, body and soul, can not be separated forever, which,
while they are together, concur in all that either of them do.'
" Never think it presumption," says St. Gregory, 1" to hope for that
in thyself which God admitted when He took thy nature upon
Him."  " And God hath made it," says he, " more easy than so foz
thee to believe it, because not only Christ Himself, but such men as
thou art did rise at the resurrection of Christ."  And therefore when
our bodies are dissolved and liquified in the sea, putrefied in the
earth, resolved to ashes in the fire, macerated in the air, make
account that all the world is God's cabinet, and water, and earth, and
fire, and air, are the proper boxes in which God lays up our bodies foi




CHRIST'S TRIUMPH 1)  THE RESURRECTION.  165
the resurrection. Curiously to dispute against our own resurrection,
is seditiously to dispute against the dominion of Jesus; who is not
made Lord by the resurrection, if He have no subjects to follow Him
in the same way. We believe Him to be Lord, therefore let us
believe His and our resurrection.
This blessed day, which we celebrate now, He rose; He rose so
as none before did, none after ever shall rise; He rose, others are
but raised: " Destroy this temple," says He, "and I will raise it;"
I, without employing any other architect. "I lay down My life,"
says He: the Jews could not have killed Him when He was alive;
if He were alive here now, the Jesuits could not kill Him here now;
except His being made Christ and Lord, an anointed King, have
made Him more open to them. "I have a power to lay it down,"
says He, " and I have a power to take it up again."
This day we celebrate His resurrection; this day let us celebrate
our own. *  *  *  *  *  Fulfill, therefore, that which Christ says,
"The hour is coming, and now is, when the dead shall hear the
voice of the Son of God, and they that hear shall live." Be this
that hour, be this thy first resurrection. Bless God's present goodness for this now, and attend God's leisure for the other resurrection
hereafter. He that is "the first-fruits of them that slept," Christ
Jesus, is awake; He dies no more, He sleeps no more. He offered
a sacrifice for thee, but He had that from thee that He offered for
thee: He was the first-fruits, but the first-fruits of thy corn: doubt
not of having that in the whole crop which thou hast already in thy
first-fruits; that is, to have that in thyself, which thou hast in thy
Saviour. And what glory soever thou hast had in this world, glory
inherited from noble ancestors, glory acquired by merit and service,
glory purchased by money and observation, what glory of beauty
and proportion, what glory of health and strength soever thou bhst
had in this house of clay, "the glory of the latter house shall be
greater than of the former." To this glory, the God of this glory,
by glorious or inglorious ways, such as may most advance His own
glory, bring us in His time, for His Son Christ Jesus's sake. Amen.




DISCOURSE THIRTEENTH.
JOSEPH HALL, D.D.
EMINENT among the best and holiest men that any age or country
has produced, stands the name of Bishop HALL. He was born, July 1,
1574, at Briston Park, Leicestershire, of parentage " honest and well
allowed." In common with many others of the good and great, his religious and moral worth was the firuit, under God, of maternal piety and
care. In allusion to his mother he says: " How often have I blessed the
memory of those divine passages of experimental divinity which I have
heard from her mouth!" His literary training was received in the Grammar School of his native town, and in Emmanuel College, Cambridge,
where he was chosen fellow, at the age of twenty-two. Here he ably
filled, for two years, the office of professor of rhetoric, which he resigned
for the ministry, and accepted the rectory of Hawsted. tie also held
charge in Waltham for sixteen years, and afterward the deanery of
Worcester. In 1627 he was raised to the see of Exeter, whence, in 1641,
he was transferred to Norwich.
His Episcopal office was rendered painful by the representations to
the king, probably by the infamous Laud, that he was too indulgent to
the scruples of the Non-Conformists; and he was finally committed to
the Tower. On regaining his liberty, he retired to Norwich, but in a
few months his estate, including his furniture, books, and apparel, was
exposed for sale; and, expelled from his residence, he retired to a small
house in Heigham, where, in 1656, " quietly, gradually, and even insensi.
bly, he gave up his last breath."
To Hall's deep piety was added a mind of uncommon penetration,
a poetic fancy, and a fine, classic taste. It was Sir Henry Watton who
first styled him the "English Seneca." Fuller's amplification is well
known: " He was commonly called our English Seneca, for the pureness,
plainness, and fullness of his style; not ill at controversies, more happy
at comments, very good in characters, best of all in his meditations."
Hsll's writings are very numerous; of which his " Contemplations on the
Old and New Testaments," are the most noted. They well deserve the




THE BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH  CHRIST.   167
name of "Sacred Classics."  Of scarcely inferior merit are some of his
less celebrated treatises, devotional and practical. His published sermons
are comparatively few, since, as he informs us, it was his custom to
"gather the quintessence of those larger discourses," into the form of
meditations. The few extant sermons are not much known, being exceedingly rare. That was a happy thought of his: "It seemed not
amiss, that some of those metals should be shown in the ore, whereof so
great a quantity was presented in the wedge." The author of this work
is happy in being able to embody a discourse "in the ore;" and as a
specimen of earnest and faithful presentation of the cross-bearing doctrines of the Gospel, it is especially worthy of imitation in these times,
when formality and voluptuousness threaten the Churches with sorer
evils, than were ever inflicted by the knife of persecution.
The discourse is remarkable for that density of expression and amplitude of thought, that quaintness and richness of illustration, that pungency and pathos, and that fervor of piety and soundness of doctrine,
which characterize Bishop Hall's productions.
THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST.
" I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live." —-GAL. ii 20.
He that was once tossed in the confluence of two seas, was orce
no less straitened in his resolutions betwixt life and death. Neither
doth my text argue him in any other case here; as there he krew
not whether he should choose, so here he knew not whether he had.
" I am crucified," there he is dead; yet " I live," there he is alive
again; "yet not I," there he lives not; "but Christ in me," there he
more than lives. This holy correction makes my text full of wonders, full of sacred riddles. 1. The living God is dead upon the
cross, " Christ crucified."  2. St. Paul who died by the sword, dies
on the cross. 3. St. Paul who was not Paul till after Christ's death,
is yet crucified with Christ. 4. St. Paul thus crucified yet lives. 5.
St. Paul lives not himself, while he lives. 6. Christ who is cruciied, lives in Paul, who was crucified with him.
See then here, both a Lent and an Easter; a Lent of mortification —" I am crucified with Christ;" an Easter of resurrection and
life —" I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me." The Lent of my
text will be sufficient (as proper) for this season; wherein my speech
shall pass through three stages of discourse; Christ crucified, St.
Paul crucified, St. Paul crucified with Christ. In all which, your




168                   JOSEPH HALL.
Christian patience shall as much shorten my way as my care shall
shorten the way to your patience.
Christ's cross is the first lesson of our infancy, worthy to be our
last, and all. The great doctor of the Gentiles affected not to ay
any higher pitch.  Grande crucis sacramentam, as Ambrose writes;
this is the greatest wonder that ever earth or heaven yielded. God
incarnate, was "a great mystery;" but God suffering and dying was
so much more, as death is more penal than birth. The Godhead of
man, and the blood of God, are two such miracles, as the angels of
heaven can never enough look into, never enough admire.
Ruffinus tells us that among the sacred characters of the Egyptians, the cross was anciently one, which was said to signify eternal
life; hence, their learneder sort were converted to, and confirmed in
the faith. Surely, we know, that in God's hieroglyphics, eternal life
is both represented and exhibited to us by the cross. That the cross
of Christ was made of the tree of life; a slip whereof the angels
gave to Adam's son, out of Paradise, is but a Jewish legend; Galatine may believe it, not we. But, that it is made the tree of life to
all believers, we are sure. This is the only instrument to scale
heaven; never man ascended thither, but by it. By this, Christ
Himself climbed up to His own glory. " Father, glorify Thy name;"
that is, saith He, "Lift Me up to the tree, not of My shame, but of
My triumph." " Behold, we preach Christ crucified" (saith St. Paul),
"to the Jews a stumbling-block, to the Greeks foolishness; but to
them which are called, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of
God." Foolish men, that stumble at power, and deride wisdom I
Upbraid us now, ye fond Jews and pagans, with a crucified Saviour;
it is our glory, it is our happiness, which ye make our reproach.
Had not our Saviour died, He could have been no Saviour for us;
had not our Saviour died, we could not have lived. See now the
flag of our dear Redeemer, this cross, shining eminently in our foreheads; and if we had any place more high, more conspicuous, more
honorable, there we would advance it. 0 blessed Jesu, when Thou
art thus lifted up on Thy cross, Thou drawest all hearts unto Thee;
there Thou "leadest captivity captive, and givest gifts unto men."
Ye are deceived, 0 ye blind Jews and paynims, ye are deceived. It
is not a gibbet, it is a throne of honor, to which our Saviour is raised;
a throne of such honor as to which heaven and earth and hell, do
and must bow. The sun hides his awful head, the earth trembles,
the rocks rend, the graves open, and all the frame of nature doth
homage to their Lord in this secret, but divine pomp of his crucifix.
ion. And while ye think His feet and hands despicably fixed, be.




THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED WITH CHRIST.   169
hold, He is powerfully trampling upon hell and death, and setting
up trophies of His most glorious victory, and scattering everlasting
crowns and scepters unto all believers. O Saviour I I do more adore
Thee, on the Calvary of Thy passion, than on the Tabor of Thy trans.
figuration, or the Olivet of Thine ascension; and can not so feelingly
bless Thee for-" Father, glorify Me," as for-" My God, My God,
why hast Thou forsaken Me;" since it is no news for God to be great
and glorious; but, for the eternal and ever-living God to be abased;
to be abased unto death, to the death of the cross, is that which
could not but amaze the angels, and confound devils; and so much
more magnifies Thine infinite mercy, by how much an infinite person
would become more ignominious. All hosannahs of men, all allelujahs of saints and angels, come short of this majestic humiliation.
" Blessing, honor, glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon
the throne, and to the Lamb, for ever and ever." And ye, beloved,
as ever ye hope to make music in heaven, learn to tune your harps
to the note and ditty of those heavenly elders. Rejoice in this, and
rejoice in nothing but this cross; not in transitory honors, titles,
treasures, which will at the last leave you inconsolately sorrowful,
but in this cross of Christ; whereby the world is crucified to you,
and you to the world. Oh I embrace- this precious cross; and say
with that blessed martyr, " My love is crucified." Those that have
searched into the monuments of Jerusalem, write that our Saviour
was crucified with his face to the west; which, howsoever spitefully
meant of the Jews (as not allowing him worthy to look on the holy
city and temple), yet, was not without a mystery; "His eyes looked
to the Gentiles," etc., saith the Psalmist. As Christ, therefore, on
His cross, looked toward us sinners of the Gentiles, so let us look up
to Him. Let our eyes be lift up to this brazen serpent, for the
cure of the deadly stings of that old serpent. See Him, 0 all ye
beholders I see Him hanging upon the tree of shame, of curse, to
rescue you from curse and confusion, and to feoff you in everlast.
ing blessedness. See Him stretching out His arms to receive and
embrace you; hanging down His head to take view of your misery; opening His precious side to receive you into His bosom;
opening His very heart to take you in thither; pouring out thence
water to wash you, and blood to redeem you. 0, all ye Nazarites
that pass by, out of this dead lion seek and find the true honey of
unspeakable and endless comfort I And ye, great masters of Israel,
whose lips profess to preserve knowledge, leave all curious and needless disquisitions, and with that divine and extatical doctor of the
Gentiles, care only to know-to preach-" Christ and Him crucified.'




170                   JOSEPH HALL
But this, though the sum of the Gospel, is not the main drift of
my text. I may not dwell in it, though I am loath to part with so
sweet a meditation. From Christ crucified turn your eyes to Paul
crucified; you have read of him dying by the sword; hear him
speak of dying by the cross, and see his moral, spiritual, living crucifixion.
Our apostle is two men, Saul and Paul —the old man and the
new. In respect of the old man, he is crucified and dead to the law
of sin; so as that sin is dead in him; neither is it otherwise with
every regenerate. Sin hath a body, as well as the man hath, (" Who
shall deliver me from this body of death?") a body that hath limbs
and parts: " Mortify your earthly members," saith our Apostle. Not
the limbs of our human body, which are made of earth; but the
sinful limbs, that are made of "corruption, fornication, uncleanness,
inordinate affection," etc. The head of sin is wicked devices; the
heart of sin, wicked desires; the hands and feet of sin, wicked execution; the tongue of sin, wicked words; the eyes of sin, lustful
apprehensions; the forehead of sin, impudeut profession of evil;
the back of sin, a strong supportation and maintenance of evil: all
this body of sin is not only put to death, but to shame too; so as it
is dead with disgrace: "I am  crucified."  St. Paul speaks not
this singularly of himself, but in the person of the renewed: sin
doth not, can not live a vital and vigorous life in the regenerate.
Wherefore, then, say you, was the Apostle's complaint, "Wretched
man that I am, who shall deliver me from this body of death?"
Mark, I beseech you, it was the body of sin, not the life of sin; a
body of death, not the life of that body. Or if this body had yet
some life, it was such a life as is left in the limbs when the head is
struck off; some dying quiverings, rather as the remainders of a
life that was, than any act of a life that is. Or, if a further life,
such a one as in swounds and fits of epilepsy, which yields breath,
but not sense; or if some kind of sense, yet no motion; or if it
have some kind of motion in us, yet no manner of dominion over
us. What power, motion, sense, relics of life, are in a fully crucified man? Such a one may waft up and down with the wind, but
can not move out of any internal principle.
Sin and grace can not more stand together in their strength
than life and death. In remiss degrees all contraries may be lodged
together under one roof. St. Paul swears that he dies daily, yet he
lives; so the best man sins hourly, even while he obeys; but the
powerful and overruling sway of sin is incompatible with the truth
of regeneraticu. Every Esau would be carrying away a blessing




THE BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH  CHRIST.   171
Ye shall have strong drinkers, as Isaiah calls them. "Neighing
stallions of lust," as Jeremy calls them; mighty hunters in oppression, as Nimrod; corrupt talkers; which yet will be challenging
as deep a share in grace as the most conscionable. Alasl how
many millions do miserably delude themselves with a mere pretense
of Christianity, aliter vivunt, aliter loquuntur,* as was said of the
philosophers. Vain hypocrites I they must know that every Chris
tian is a crucified man. How are they dead to their sins, that walk
in their sins? How are their sins dead in them, in whom they stir,
reign, flourish? Who doth not smile to hear of a dead man that
walks? Who derides not the solecism of that actor that expressed
himself fully dead by saying so? What a mockery is this I —eyes
full of lust, itching ears, scurrilous tongues, bloody hands, hearts
full of wickedness-and yet dead?  Deceive not your souls, dear
Christians, if ye love them: this false death is the way to the true,
eternal, incomprehensibly woeful death of body and soul. If ye
will needs do so, walk on, ye falsely dead, in the ways of your old
sins; but be sure these paths shall lead you down to the chambers
of everlasting death. Away with this hateful simulation. God is
not mocked; ye must either kill or die. Kill your sins, or else they
will be sure to kill your souls; apprehend, arraign, condemn them;
fasten them to the tree of shame; and, if they be not dead already,
break their legs and arms, disable them to all offensive actions, as
was done to the thieves in the Gospel: so shall you say with ouI
blessed apostle, "I am crucified."
Neither is it thus only in matter of notorious crime and gross
wickedness; but thus it must be in the universal carriage of our
lives, and the whole habitual frame of our dispositions. In both
these, we are, we must be crucified. Be not deceived, my brethren,
it is a serious and severe thing to be a Christian. This work is not
frolicsome, jovial, plausible: there is a certain thing called true mortification, required to this business; and whoever heard but there
was pain in death? but, among all deaths, in crucifying?  What a
torture must there needs be in this act of violence!  What a distension of the body (whose weight is rack enough to itselfl)  What
straining of the joints? What nailing of hands and feet I Never
make account to be Christians without the hard tasks of penitence.
It will cost you tears, sighs, watchings, self-restraints, self-strugglings, self-denials: this word is not more harsh than true. Ye delicate hypocrites, what do you talk of Christian profession, when ye
will not abate a dish from your table, nor spare an hour's sleep frcm
* They are oue sort of people in their lives, another in their professions




172                    JOSEPH  HALL.
your eyes, nor cast off an offensive rag from your backs, fcr your
God? In vain shall the vassals of appetite challenge to be the servants of God. Were it, that the kingdom of God did consist in eating and drinking, in pampering and surfeits, in chambering and
wantonness, in prancing and vanity, in talk and ostentation, 0 God,
how rich shouldst Thou be of subjects, of saints I But, if it require
abstinence, humiliation, contrition of heart, subjugation of our
flesh, renunciation of our wills, serious impositions of laborsome
devotions, O Lord, what is become of true Christianity?
Where shall we seek for a crucified man? Look to our tables,
there ye shall find excess and riot: look to our backs, there ye shall
find proud disguises: look to our conversations, there ye shall find
scurrilous and obscene jollity. This liberty, yea, this licentiousness,
is that which opens the mouths of our adversaries to the censure of
our real impiety. That slander which Julian could cast upon Constantine, that delicacy led him to intemperance, the very same do
they cast upon us: they tell us of their strict Lents, frequent fastings,
canonical hours, sharp penances; of their bashful shrifts, their painful scourgings, their solitary cells, their woolward and barefoot
walks, their hard and tedious pilgrimages; while we, they say, deny
nothing to back or belly, fare full, lie soft, sit warm, and make a
wanton of the flesh, while we profess to tend the spirit. Brethren,
hear a little the words of exhortation: the brags of their penal
will-worship shall no whit move us. All this is blown away with
a " Who hath required it?" Baal's priests did more than they, yet
were never the holier. But for ourselves, in the fear of God, see
that we do not justify their crimination; while they are in one extreme, placing all religion in the outside, in "touch not, taste not,
handle not;" let us not be in the other, not regarding the external
acts of due humiliation. It is true that it is more easy to afflict the
body than to humble the soul. A dram of remorse is more than an
ounce of pain. O God, if whippings, and hair-cloths, and watchings,
would satisfy Thy displeasure, who would not sacrifice the blood of
this vassal, his body, to expiate the sin of his soul? Who would
not scrub his skin to ease his conscience? Who would not hold his
eyes open to avoid an eternal unrest and torment? But such sacrifices and oblations, 0 God, Thou desirest not: "The sacrifice of
God is a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, 0 God, Thou
wilt not despise." Yet it is as true that it is more easy to counterfeit mortification of spirit than humiliation of body: there is pain
in the one, none in the other. He that cares not, therefore, to pull
down his body, will much less care to humble his soul; and he that




THE BELIEVER CRUCIFIED  WITH CHRIST.   173
spares not to act meet and due penalties upon the flesh, gives more
color of the soul's humiliation. Dear Christians, it is not for us to
stand upon niggardly terms with our Maker; He will have both;
He that made both will have us crucified in both. The old man
doth not lie in a limb or faculty, but is diffused through the whole
extent of body and soul, and must be crucified in all that it is
Saith the chosen vessel, " I beat down my body;" my body as well as
my spirit. Lent is wont to be a penitential time: if ye have soundly
and effectually shriven yourselves to your God, let me enjoin you a
wholesome and saving penance for the whole year, for your whole
life. Ye must curb your appetites, ye must fast, ye must stint your
selves to your painful devotions; ye must give peremptory denials
to your own wills; ye must put your knife to your throat in Solomon's sense. 0 remember the quarrel against damned Dives: he
fared sumptuously every day; he made neither lents nor embers
every day was gaudy and festival, in rich suits, in dainty morsels,
and full draughts, " wine within, oil without;" now all the world
for a drop, and it is too little. "Woe unto you that are full," saith
our Saviour; but even nature itself could abominate " one that is
full twice a day." One of the sins of our Sodom is fullness of
bread  What is the remedy?  It is an old word that "hunger
cures the diseases of gluttony." 0 that my words could prevail so
far with you, beloved Christians, as to bring austere abstinence and
sober moderation into fashion. The court and city have led the way
to excess; your example shall prescribe, yea, administer the remedy
The heathen man could say, " He is not worthy of the name of a
man that would be a whole day in pleasure;"*- what, and we al.
ways?  "In fasting often," saith St. Paul;-what, and we never?
" I fast twice a week," saith the Pharisee; and we Christians, when?
I speak not of popish mock-fasts, in change, not in forbearance; in
change of coarser cates of the land, for the curious dainties of the
water; of the flesh of beasts for the flesh of fish; of untoothsome
morsels for delicate messes, as Jerome calls them: let me never feast,
if this be fasting. I speak of a true and serious maceration of our
bodies by an absolute refraining from sustenance; which howsoever
in itself it be not an act pleasing unto God (for well may I invert St.
Paul, "neither if we eat not, are we the better; neither if we eat,
are we the worse"), yet in the effect it is. The plow bears no corn,
but it makes way for it; it opens the soil, it tears up the briers, and
turns up the furrows. Thus doth holy abstinence: it chastises the
flesh, it lightens the spirit, it disheartens our vicious dispositions, it
* Cic. de fin.




174                    JOSEPH  HALL.
quickens our devotion. O then, as we care to avert the heavy judg
ments of God from ourselves, as we desire to hand down the Gospel
with peace to our posterity, let each man humble himself; let each
man rend his heart, with sorrow for his sins; let every man ransack
his own soul and life, and offer an holy violence to all those sinful
corruptions which have stirred up the God of heaven against us;
ind never leave till in truth of heart he can say, with our blessed
Apostle, " I am crucified."
Ye have seen Christ crucified, St. Paul crucified; see now both
crucified together: " I am crucified with Christ."  It is but a cold
word this, " I am, crucified;" it is the company that quickens it:
He that is the life gives it life, and makes both the word and act
glorious: " I am crucified with Christ."
Alas I there is many a one crucified, but not with Christ. The
covetous, the ambitious man is self-crucified; he plats a crown of
thorny cares for his own head; he pierces his hands and feet with
toilsome and painful undertakings; he drencheth himself with the
vinegar and gall of discontentments; he gores his side and wounds
his heart with inward vexations: thus the man is crucified; but with
the world, not with Christ. The envious man is crucified by his
own thoughts; he needs no other gibbet than another man's prosperity; because another's person or counsel is preferred to his, he
rushes upon his own destruction. This man is crucified, but it is
Achitophel's cross, not Christ's.
The desperate man is crucified with his own distrust; he pierceth
his own heart with a deep, irremediable, unmitigable, killing sorrow;
he pays his wrong to God's justice with a greater wrong to His
mercy, and leaps out of an inward hell of remorse to the bottomless
pit of damnation. This man is crucified; but this is Judas's cross,
not Christ's.
The superstitious man is professedly mortified. The answer of
that hermit in the story is famous. " Why dost thou destroy thy
body?"  "Because it would destroy me."  He useth his body, therefore, not as a servant, but a slave; not as a slave, but an enemy: he
lies upon thorns, with the Pharisees; little-ease is his lodging, with
Simeon the anchorite; the stone is his pillow, with Jacob; tears
his food, with exiled David; he lanceth his flesh with the Baalites;
he digs his grave with his nails; his meals are hunger, his breathings sighs, his linen hair-cloth, lined and laced with cords and wires;
lastly, he is his own willing tormentor, and hopes to merit heaven
by self-murder. This man is crucified, but not with Christ.
The felon, the traitor, is justly crucified; the vengeance of the




THE BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WirH  CHRIST.   175
law will not let him live. The Jesuitical incendiary, that cares only
to warm himself by the fires of states and kingdoms, cries out of his
sufferings: —the world is too little for the noise of our cruelty and
their patience, while it judgeth of our proceedings by our laws, not
by our executions. But if they did suffer what they falsely pretend,
they might be crucified, but not with Christ; they should bleed for
sedition, not conscience. They may steal the name of Jesus, they
shall not have His society: this is not Christ's cross, it is the cross
of Barabbas, or the two malefactors. All these, and many more, are
crucified, but not as St. Paul was here, "with Christ."  How must
we be crucified with Christ? in partnership, in person: in partnership of the suffering-every particularity of Christ's crucifixion is
reacted in us. Christ is the model, we the metal: the metal takes such
form as the model gives it; so are we spread upon the cross of Christ,
in an answerable extension of all parts, to die with Him, as the prophet
was upon the dead child, to revive him. Superstitious men talk of
the impression of our Saviour's wounds in their idol, St. Francis. This
is nothing new; St. Paul, and every believing Christian hath both the
lashes and wounds, and transfixions of his Jesus wrought upon him.
The crown of thorns pierces his head when his sinful conceits are
mortified; his lips are drenched with gall and vinegar when sharp and
severe restraints are given to his tongue; his hands and feet are nailed
when he is by the power of God's Spirit disabled to the wonted
courses of sin; his body is stripped when all color and pretenses
are taken away from him; shortly, his heart is pierced, when the
life-blood of his formerly reigning corruptions are let out. He is no
true Christian that is not thus crucified with Christ.
Woe is me! how many fashionable ones are not so much as
rained with their sins: it is no trouble to them to blaspheme, oppress,
debauch. Yea, rather it is a death to them to think of parting with
their dear corruptions. The world hath bewitched their love. That
which Erasmus saith of Paris, that after a man hath acquainted himself with the odious scent of it, " it grows into his liking more and
more," is too true of the world, and sensual minds: alas I they rather
crucify Christ again than are crucified with Christ. Woe to them
that ever they were; for not being dead with Christ, they are not
dead in Christ; and not being dead in Christ, they can not but die
eternally in themselves; "For the wages of sin is death:" death in
their person, if not in their surety. Beloved, let us not think it safe
for us to rest in this miserable and deadly condition. As ye love
your souls, give no sleep to your eyes, nor peace to your hearts, till
ye find the sensible effects of the death and passion of Christ your




176                   JOSEPH  HALL.
Saviour within you, mortifying all your corrupt affections, and sinful
actions, that ye may truly say with St. Paul, "I am crucified with
Christ."
Six several times do we find that Christ shed blood: in His circumcision-in His agony —in His crowning-in His scourging-in
His affixion-in His transfixion. The instrument of the first was
the knife; of the second, vehemence of passion; of the third, the
thorns; ot the fourth, the whips; of the fifth, the nails; of the last,
the spear.  In all these we are, we must be, partners with our
Saviour.
In His circumcision, when we draw blood of ourselves by cutting
off the foreskin of our filthy (if pleasing) corruptions.
In His agony, when we are deeply affected with the sense of
God's displeasure for sin, and terrified with the frowns of an angry
Father.
In His crowning with thorns, when we smart and bleed with
reproaches for the name of Christ; when that which the world counts
honor is pain to us, for His sake; when our guilty thoughts punish
us, and wound our restless heads, with the sad remembrance of our
sins.
In His scourging, when we tame our wanton and rebellious flesh,
with wise rigor and holy severity.
In His affixion, when all the powers of our souls and parts of oux
body are strictly hampered, and unremovably fastened upon the royal
commandrn.-nts of our Maker and Redeemer.
In His transfixion, when our hearts are wounded with Divine
love (with the spouse in the Canticles) or our consciences with deep
sorrow.
In all these we bleed with Christ, and all these (save the first
only) belong to His crucifying. Surely, as it was in the old law,
without blood shed there was no remission, so it is still, and ever, in
the new. If Christ had not thus bled for us, there had been no
remission; if we do not thus bleed with Christ, there is for us no
remission.
There is no benefit where is no partnership.  If Christ therefore
bled with His agony, with His thorns, with His whips, with His
nails, with His spear, in so many thousand passages, as tradition is
bold to define; and we never bleed, either with the agony of our
sorrow for sin, or the thorns of our holy cares for displeasure, or the
scourges of severe Christian rigor, or the nails of holy constraint, or
the spear of deep remorse, how do we, how can we for shame, say,
we are " crucified with Christ?"




THE BELIEVER  CRUCIFIED  WITH  CHRIST.   177
St. Austin, in his epistle, or book rather, to Honoratus, gives us
all the dimensions of the cross of Christ. The latitude he makes in
the transverse; this (saith he) pertains to good works, because on
this His hands were stretched. The length was from the ground to
the transverse, this is attributed to His longanimity and persistence;
for on that His body was stayed and fixed. The height was in the
head of the cross, above the transverse, signifying the expectation of
supernal things. The depth of it was in that part which was pitched
below within the earth, importing the profoundness of His free
grace, which is the ground of all His beneficence. In all these must
we have our part with Christ; in the transverse of His cross, by the
ready extension of our hands to all good works of piety, justice,
charity. In the arrectary or beam of His cross, by continuance and
uninterrupted perseverance in good. In the head of His cross, by a
high elevated hope, and looking for of glory. In the foot of His
cross, by a lively and firm faith, fastening our souls upon the affiance
of His free grace and mercy. And thus shall we be crucified with
Christ, upon His own cross.
Yet, lastly, we must go further than this, from His cross to His
person.
So did St. Paul, and every believer, die with Christ, that he died
in Christ; for, as in the first Adam we all lived and sinned; so, in
the second, all believers died, that they might live.
The first Adam brought in death to all mankind; but, at last,
actually died for none but himself. The second Adam died for mankind, and brought life to all believers. Seest thou thy Saviour,
therefore, hanging upon the cross? all mankind hangs there with
Him, as a knight or burgess of parliament voices his whole borough
or county. What speak I of this? The members take the same lot
with the Head. Every believer is a limb of that Body; how can
he, therefore, but die with Him, and in Him?  That real union,
then, which is betwixt Christ and us, makes the cross and passion of
Christ ours; so as the thorns pierced our heads, the scourges blooded
our backs, the nails wounded our hands and feet, and the spear gored
our sides and hearts; by virtue whereof we receive justification from
our sins, and true mortification of our corruptions. Every believer,
therefore, is dead already for his sins, in his Saviour; he needs not
fear that he shall die again. God is too just to punish twice for one
fault; to recover the sum both of the surety and principal. All the
score of our arrearages is fully struck off, by the infinite satisfaction
of our blessed Redeemer. Comfort thyself, therefore, thou penitent
and faithful soul, in the confidence of thy safety. Thou shalt not
12




178                   JOSEPH  HALL.
die, but live, since thou art already crucified with thy Saviour. He
died for thee, thou diedst in Him. " Who shall lay any thing tc
the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifies  Who shall condemn? It is Christ that died; yea, rather, that is risen again, and
lives gloriously at the right hand of God; making intercession for
us." To Thee, 0 blessed Jesu, together with thy co-eternal Father,
and Holy Spirit, three persons in one infinite and incomprehensible
Deity, be all praise, honor, and glory, now and forever. Amemn




DISCOURSE FOURTEENTH.
THOMAS ADAMS;
IT is impossible to determine, with precision, the time and place of
Thomas Adams's birth, whose discourse next follows. He is not to be
confounded with either of two other somewhat distinguished divines of
the same name; one of whom is mentioned in Wood's Athense Oxonienses, as removed from his fellowship for non-conformity in 1652, and preaching in the Conventicles of London; and the other of whom died in 1784,
well known as the Rector of Wirthingham, and author of "Private
Thoughts," and a volume of sermons. The Thomas Adams here repre3ented, was minister at Willington, and a preacher at Paul's Cross in
1612; which must have been several years before the birth of the Nonconformist minister above mentioned. But where he was born, or when,
and how he died, we know not. He has left no diary, and found no
biographer; nor are there any traces of him in the record of his times.
His works constitute his only monument. These were published by the
author in 1630, in one folio volume of 1240 pages, and some of them, at
an early date, passed through several editions.* From dates and references in his writings, we learn that he was a public preacher in the early
part of the reign of James the First, and that he must have been cotemporary with Bishop Hall (whose writings he often quotes), though
probably his junior by a few years. As a proximate date of his birth,
we have fixed upon the year 1578. He was a man of deep and varied
learning, and his discourses abound in passages of great brightness. His
style is much like that of Joseph Hall, and Jeremy Taylor; plentiful in
ornament, rich, quaint, terse, vigorous, and sparkling with brilliant
imagery. We are not disposed to detract aught from the meed of praise
awarded by his recent English editor: "With the eye of a poet, the
heart of a saint, and the tongue of an orator, he gives substance to
abstractions, personifies the virtues, paints the beauties of holiness, and
brings to the ear the voices of the distant and the dlead."
* A part of his Discourses have recently been edited by Rev. W. H. Stowell of Independent College, Rotherham, and republished in this colrtry by the Carters of New
York.




180                  THOMAS ADAMS.
THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS-FAITH, HOPE, AND
CHARITY.
"Now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."-.
1 COR. xiiL 13.
When those three goddesses, say the poets, strove for the golden
ball, Paris adjudged it to the Queen of Love. Here are three celestial graces, in a holy emulation, if I may so speak, striving for the
chiefdom: and our apostle gives it to Love. The greatest of these
is Charity.
Not that other daughters are black, but that Charity excels in
beauty. We may say of this sister, as it was said of the good
woman, "Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest
them all."  Paul doth not disparage any when he saith, "Charity
is the greatest." All stars are bright, though one star may differ
from another in glory. We may say of graces, as of the captains of
the sons of Gad: "The least a hundred, the greatest a thousand."
Or as the song was of Saul and David: "Saul hath slain his thousands, David his ten thousands." Faith is excellent, so is Hope; but
"the greatest of these is Oharity."
These are three strings often touched; Faith, whereby we believe
all God's promises to be true, and ours; Hope, whereby we wait. for
them with patience; Charity, whereby we testify what we believe
and hope. He that hath Faith can not distrust; he that hath Hope
can not be put from anchor; he that hath Charity will not lead a
licentious life, for love keeps the commandments.
For method's sake we might first confer them all, then prefer one.
But I will speak of these according to the three degrees of compari.
son. 1. Positively.  2. Comparatively.  3. Superlatively. "The
greatest of them is Charity." Under which method we have involved: 1. Their order, how they are ranked. 2. Their nature, how
they are defined. 3. Their distinction, how they ore differenced. 4.
Their number, how many are specified. 5. Their conference, how
they are compared. 6. Lastly, their dignity, and therein how far
one is preferred.
Faith is that grace which makes Christ ours, and all His benefits. God gives it. "Faith is given by the Spirit."  By the word
preached. "Faith cometh by hearing." For Christ's sake. "To
you it is given for Christ's sake, to believe in His name." This vir



THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS                   181
rue is no sooner given of God but it gives God. So soon as thou
believest, Christ is thine and all His. "For He that gives us Christ
will also with Him give us all things."
" Without this, it is impossible to please God." Let us not other
wise dare to come into His presence. There is nothing but wrath in
Him for sin in us. Joseph charged his brethren that they should
come no more into his sight unless they brought Benjamin with
them. We come at our peril into God's presence if we leave His
beloved Benjamin, our dear Jesus, behind us. When the philosopher heard of the enraged emperor's menace, that the next time he
saw him he would kill him, he took up the emperor's little son in
his arms, and saluted him with a potesne. Thou canst not now strike
me. God is angry with every man for his sins., Happy is he that
can catch up His Son Jesus; for in whose arms soever the Lord sees
his Son, He will spare him. The men of Tyre were fain to intercede
to Herod by Blastus. Our intercession to God is made by a higher
and surer way; not by His servant, but by His Son.
Now this Mediator is not had without a medium, Faith. Faith
is that means whereby we lay hold on this Christ. Diffidence shall
never have Jesus for the advocate, though every man may say,
"I believe, Lord help my unbelief."
Saint Paul useth one word that very significantly expresseth
Faith, calling it " The evidence of things not seen." Faith is to believe what thou seest not; whose reward is to see what thou believ*
est. Now the metaphor may be explained thus:
1. Christ dying made a will or a testament, sealing it with His
own blood, wherein He bequeathed a certain legacy of inheritance
to His brethren with Himself. "Father, I will that they whom
Thou hast given Me be with Me where I am; that they may behold My glory which Thou hast given Me." This is the substance
of His will and testament.
2. The conveyance of this will is the Gospel, " Whosoever believes, and is baptized, shall be saved." A large patent, a free and full
grant. There is no exception of persons, either in regard of state,
quality, or country. "There is neither Jew nor Gi eek, bond nor
free, male nor female; for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." The conveyance is of an ample latitude.
3. The executor or administrator of this will, if I may so speak,
is the Holy Ghost, that Comforter which Christ promised to " send,
that should lead us into all truth." This Spirit begets faith and
sanctification in our hearts, puts Abba into our mouths, applies the
merits of our Saviour to our souls; and indeed "seals us up to the




182                   THOMAS ADAMS.
day of redemption." Without His assistance we could appropriate
no comfort by His will; nor challenge any legacy therein bequeathed.
4. Lastly, The evidence whereby every particular man apportions
to himself His title and interest, is his Faith. Thou, unregenerate
soul, pleadest a legacy in this will. Go to, let us join issue, and come
to trial. Where is thy evidence?  Here it is, my Faith. This evi
dence, as all other, must have some witnesses. Produce thine; ana
before the bar of the great Chief Justice, the King's Bench of heaven,
let them not lie.
The first is thy Conscience. Alas I give this leave to speak with.
out interruption (and one day it shall not flatter thee). This saith,
thy evidence is false and counterfeit; forged by a wretched scrivener,
flesh and blood: for thy heart trusts in uncertainly good riches, oi
in certainly bad vanities, more than in the living God.
The next is thy Life. Alas! this is so speckled with sins, so
raw and sore with lusts, that as a body broken out into blanes and
biles argues a corrupted liver or stomach within: so the spots and
ulcers of thy life demonstrate a putrified heart. Lo, now thy witnesses. Thou art gone at the common law of justice: It is only the
chancery of mercy that must clear thee. What wilt thou now do?
What. but humble thyself in recompense for thy false faith; take
prayer in thy company, for pardon of former errors; go by the
>-word preached; for the minister is, as it were, the register to ingross
the deed; and desire God on the humbled knees of thy soul, to
give thee a new and a true evidence. Let this instruct us to some
uses.
1. Be sure that thy evidence is good. Satan is a subtle lawyer
(and thou dost not doubt of his malice), and will soon pick holes in
it; find out tricks and cavils against it. He will winnow and sift
thee, grain after grain: take heed lest thou run not all to chaff.
There is a faith of saints: "Now live not I, but Christ liveth in
me: and the life that I live I live by the faith of the Son of God."
And there is a faith of devils: "Thou believest; thou doest well:
the devils also believe and tremble." There is a faith which can
not perish: " Whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish." And
there is a faith that in the time of temptation falls away. The rocky
ground receives the word, and for a while believeth, but in the time
of temptation falls away. There is a faith which the world overcometh: such was the faith of Demas. And there is a faith that
overcometh the world: "This is the victory v hereby we overcome
the world, even our faith." There is a dead. idle, and infructuous




THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS                      183
faith; and there is a lively, active, working faith: "Faith worketh
by love." Be sure, then, that thy faith will endure the touch, even
the fiery trial.
2. Do not lose such a legacy as Christ hath bequeathed for want
of faith. Glorious is the inheritance; but where is thy evidence?
Flatter not thy soul with hope of this possession, without the assurance of faith, Christ gives His life for His sheep. What is this to thee
that art a wolf, a swine, a goat? God dresseth His vineyard, pruneth it, is provident over it. What is this to thee that art a thorn,
and no branch of the vine?  Look thou to be weeded lup, and
thrown out. The blood of Christ runs fresh; but where is thy pipe
of faith to derive it from His side to thy conscience? Say it should
shower mercy, yet if thou wantest faith, all would fall besides thee.
There would be no more favor for thee than if there was no Saviour.
Let, then, no miseries of earth, much less pleasures, quench thy
faith. Satan seeing this spark of fire kindled in thy heart, would
blow it out with storms, or work thee to smother it thyself with vanities, or to rake it up in the dead embers of cold security; but believe against sight and sense, as David prophesied that he should
be a king. Faith shall have so much the more recompense, as it
had the less argument to induce it.
Hope is the sweetest friend that ever kept a distressed soul company; it beguiles the tediousness of the way, all the miseries of our
pilgrimage.
Therefore dum spiro spero, said the heathen; but dum expiro spero,
says the Christian. The one, while I live, I hope; the other also,
when I die, I hope: so Job, I will hope in Thee though thou killest me.
It tells the soul such sweet stories of the succeeding joys; what comforts there are in heaven; what peace, what joy, what triumphs,
marriage-songs, and hallelujahs there are in that country whither
she is traveling, that she goes merrily away with her present burden.
It holds the head while it aches, and gives invisible drink to the
thirsty conscience. It is a liberty to them that are in prison. and
the sweetest physic to the sick. Saint Paul calls it an anchor. Let
the winds blow, and the storms beat, and the waves swell, yet the
anchor stays the ship. It breaks through all difficulties, and makes
way for the soul to follow it. It teacheth Abraham to expect fruit
from a withered stock; and Joseph in a dungeon, to look for the
sun and stars' obeisance. It counsels a man, as Esdras did the
woman who, having lost her son, would needs die languishing in
the disconsolate fields: Go thy way into the city to thine h&>sbznd.




184                 THOMAS ADAMS
Mourn not, wretch, for the loss of some worldly and perishing de
light: sit not down and die, though the fruit of thy womb be swallowed in the earth; but go home to the city, the city of mercy, to thine
husband, even thy husband Jesus Christ; let Him comfort thee. This
is the voice of Hope.
Though misery be present, comfort absent, though through the
dim and waterish humor of thy heart thou canst spy no deliverance; yet such is the nature of Hope, that futura facta dicit. It
speaks of future things as if they were present. " We are saved by
hope." We have our inheritance in hope; which gives us the right
of the substance, though not the substance of the right: assurance
of the possession, though not possession of the thing assured. This
tells us that no man should grieve much and long. God making
oar misery either sufferable or short.
These are the comforts of Hope. Now, that you may not be
deceived, there is (as I said before of Faith) a thing like Hope, which
is not it.
There is a bold and presumptuous Hope, an ignorant security
and ungrounded persuasion, the very illusion of the devil, who,
when he can not prevail with downright evil, cozens with the shad.
ows of goodness: that how wickedly and wretchedly soever a man
shall live, though he furs himself warm with poor men's hearts,
though he forbids his brains (as on covenant) one sober hour in the
year to think of heaven, though he thirst for carouses of blood,
though he strives to powder a whole kingdom with the seed-corns
of death and massacre, though he carries half a dozen impropriate
Churches on his sacrilegious back, though he out-thunder heaven
with blasphemies, though he trample under his profane foot the precious blood of God's Son; yet still he hopes to be saved by the
mercy of God. But we will sooner cast pearls to swine, and bread
to dogs, than the comforts of Sion to such. We say not, Rejoice and
tremble, but tremble without rejoicing. We sing not to them, With
the Lord is mercy, that He might be feared; but with the Lord is judgment and vengeance; with Him is plague and pestilence, storm and
tempest, horror and anguish, indignation and wrath, that He may
be feared. Against this hope we shut up the bosom of consolation,
and the promise of safety by the merits of Christ; and so far as we
are charged, the very gates of everlasting life.
There is a Hope, sober, faithful, well-grounded, well-guardect,
well-assured. This is like a house built on a rock. The rock is
God's promised mercy; the building, hope in Christ: it is (as it
were) moated or intrenched about with His blood by the sweet tes




THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS.                  185
timony of God's Spirit to the conscience: known by the charity of
the inhabitants; for it keeps bread for the hungry, clothes for the
naked, entertainment for strangers. To this Hope we open the
doors of the kingdom of heaven; and so far as the commission of
the keys leads us, we unlock the gates of eternal life, and allow entrance. We call this the blessed Hope.
Charity is an excellent virtue, and therefore rare. If ever in this
contentious age, wherein the unfeigned love of brothers is strange.
Woe is me I before I am come to define what love is, I am fallen
into a declamation against the want of it. What is here chiefly
commended is chiefly condemned, as if we had no need of mutual
succor, nor could spare a room in our hearts to entertain Charity,
lest we should expel our old loved guests, fraud, malice, and ambition. Love hath two proper objects, the one immediate and principal; the other, mediate and limited.
The proper and immediate object of our love is God. This is
the great commandment, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, with all thy soul, with all thy strength. As if He would not
leave out the least sinew or string of the heart, the least faculty or
power of the soul, the least organ or action of the strength. So
Bernard. " With all the heart," that is, affectionately.  "With all
thy soul," that is, wisely. " With all thy strength," that is, constantly. Let the zeal of thy heart inflame thy love to God; let the
wisdom of thy soul guide it; let the strength of thy might confirm
it. All the election of the soul, all the administration of the body.
The soul judgeth, the will prosecutes, the strength executes. God
can brook no rivals; no division betwixt Him and Mammon,
betwixt Him and Melchom, betwixt Him and Baal, betwixt Him
and Belial. The cause and motive to love God, is God; the manner is without measure. He poorly loves God that loves any thing
besides Him which he doth not love for Him.
The subordinate object of love is man, and his love is the effect
of the former cause, and an actual demonstration of the other inward
affection. Waters coming from the sea boil through the veins of
the earth till they become springs, and those springs rivers, and
those rivers run back to the sea again. All man's love must be
carried in the stream of God's love. Blessed is he that loves his
friend in the Lord, his enemy for the Lord. " Owe nothing to any
man, but this, that ye love one another." Other debts, once truly
paid, are no more due; but this debt, the more we pay it the more
we owe it; and we still do acknowledge ourselves debtors to all




186                  THOMAS ADAMS.
when we are clear with all; proverbially, I owe him nothing but love
The communication of these riches doth not impoverish the proprie.
tary; the more he spends of his stock, the more he hath. " There
is that scattereth, anid yet increaseth." But he that will hoard the
treas-ire of his charity shall grow poor, empty, and bankrupt.
"' There is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it tendeth unto
poverty." Love is the abridgment of the law, the new precept of
the Gospel. Luther calls it the shortest and the longest divinity:
short, for the form of words; long, yea, everlasting, for the use and
practice; for Charity shall never cease.
Thus for the first degree of comparison, positively. The second is
comparative; where, though it be said virtues and great men must
not be compared, yet we can without offense bring them to a holy
conference; else how shall we perceive the Apostle's intended scope,
the transcendency of Charity?  I will therefore first confer Faith
with Hope, and then with them both, Charity.
The distinction between Faith and Hope is nice, and must warily
be discovered. I will reduce the differences into three respects, of
korder, office, and object.
For order: Paul gives Faith the precedency. " Faith is the ground
of things hoped for." Faith always goes before, Hope follows after;
and may, in some sort, be said to be the daughter of Faith. For it
is as impossible for a man to hope for that which he believes not, as
for a painter to draw a picture in the air. Indeed, more is believed
than is hoped for; but nothing is hoped for which is not believed.
So that on necessity, in respect of order, Faith must precede Hope.
For office: Faith is the Christian's logic; Hope his rhetoric.
Faith perceives what is to be done; Hope gives alacrity to the doing
it. Faith guides, adviseth, rectifieth; Hope courageously encounters with all adversaries. Therefore Faith is compared to a doctor
in the schools, Hope to a captain in the wars. Faith discerns the
truth, Hope fights against impatience, heaviness of spirit, infirmity,
dejectedness, desperation. Divines have alluded to the difference
between faith and hope in divinity, and to that between wisdom and
valor in philosophy. Valor without wisdom is rashness, wisdom
without valor is cowardice. Faith without Hope is knowledge
without valor to resist Satan; Hope without Faith is rash presump.
tion, and an indiscreet daring: you see their different office.
For object: Faith's object is the absolute word and infallible
promise of God; Hope's object is the thing promised. Faith looks
to the word of the thing, Hope to the thing of the word. So that
Faith bath for the object the truth of God; Hope the goodness of




THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS.                  187
God. Faith is of things both good and bad; Hope of good things
only. A man believes there is a hell as truly as he believes there
is a heaven; but he fears the one, and hopes only for the other.
Faith hath for its object things past, present, future. Past, it believes Christ dead for our sins, and risen again for our justification.
Present, that He now sits at the right hand of His Father in heaven.
Future, that He shall come to judge quick and dead. Hope only
respects and expects things to come. For a man can not hope for
that which he hath. You see how in some sense Hope excels Faith.
For there is a faith in the devils; they believe the truth of God, the
certainty of the Scriptures; they acknowledge Christ the Judge of
quick and dead; therefore cry, " Why tormentest thou us before the
time?" They have faith joined with a popish preparatory good
work, fear; " the devils believe and tremble:" yea, they pray, they
beseech Christ not to send them into the deeps; what then want
they? Hope, a confident expectation of the mercy of God; this
they can never have. They believe; they can not hope. This is
the life of Christians, and the want makes devils. If it were not for
this hope, " we of all men were most miserable."
Charity differs from them both. These three divine graces art(
a created Trinity; and have some glimmering resemblance of the
Trinity uncreate. For as there the Son is begotten of the Father,
and the Holy Ghost proceeds from them both, so here a true faith
begets a constant hope, and from them proceeds Charity. " Thus is
God's temple built in our hearts," said Augustine. The foundation
whereof is Faith; Hope the erection of the walls; Charity the perfection of the roof.
In the godly all these three are united together, and can not be
sundered. We believe in God's mercy, we hope for His mercy, and
we love Him for His mercy. Faith says, there are good things pre.
pared: Hope says, they are prepared for me: Charity says, I endeavor to *alk worthy of them. So that, what good Faith believes
shall be, Hope expects for herself, and Charity aims at the way to
get it, by keeping the commandments. Faith apprehends both reward
and punishment: Hope only looks for good things for ourselves:
Charity desires the glory of God and the good of all our brethren.
The second degree gives way to the third, last, best; the superlative.
"But the greatest of these is Charity." Time will not afford me to
answer all the objections which subtle wits have ignorantly deduced
from these words. Neither were it to our purpose, then, to write
Iiads after Homer, they have been so soundly and satisfyingly answered. I will only mention two, and but report a responsive solution.




188                  THOMAS ADAMtS.
1. The principal promises are made to believers.  "Whosoeveo
believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved." So no less a promise is
made to lovers, " All things shall work together for good to those
that love God," etc.  " God," saith the Psalmist, "is near to those
that call upon Him." He is close by all those that suffer for Him;
but He is within them that love Him.  Here is prope, intra, intus.
Phis same intra, within, is of the highest degree. " God is love, and
ne that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him."  0 unspeakable felicity I
2. If charity be greater than faith, then is not man justified by
faith only. Inconsequent illation  St. Paul commends not love
for the virtue of justification: it may fail in that particular action, yet
receive no impeachment to the excellency of it. By demonstration.
A prince doth excel a peasant: shall any man therefore infer that
he can plow better, or have more skill in tillage? A philosopher
doth excel a mechanic, though he can not grind so well as a miller,
or limn so cunningly as a painter. A man is better than a beast:
who but a madman will therefore conclude that he can run faster
than a horse, draw more than an ox, or carry a greater burden than
an elephant? Though he fail in these particular acts, yet none will
deny but he is better than a beast.
The truth is, that in faith stands originally our fellowship with
God. Into that hand He poureth the riches of His mercy for salvation; and were the actions of charity never so great and (fool.
ishly thought) meritorious, yet, if not the effects of a true saving
faith, they are lost, and a man may for his charity go to the devil.
And though they would plead from the form of the last judgment
that God accepts men to life for their deeds of charity, feeding,
clothing, relieving; yet the Scripture fully testifies that God neither
accepts these nor ourselves for these, further than they are the effects
of a true faith. Our persons being first justified by faith in Christ,
then God will crown our works. Yet a Christian must'work: for
no nudifidian, as well as no nullifidian, shall be admitted into
heaven.  "Therefore," saith the Apostle, " faith worketh by love."
For faith is able to justify of itself, not to work of itself. The hand
alone can receive an alms, but can not cut a piece of wood without
an ax or some instrument. Faith is the Christian's hand, and can
without help receive God's given grace into the heart; but to pro.
duce the fruits of obedience, and to work the actual duties required,
it must have an instrument; add love to it, and it worketh by love.
So that the one is our justification before God, and the other our
testification before men.




THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS.                   189
Their number is considerable; these three, neither more nor less.
Why not two? as there be two parts in man, his understanding and
will; to direct these two, is sufficient to salvation. By Faith the
understanding is kept safe; by Charity, the will; what needed then
the mention of Hope? Yes, Hope is the daughter of Faith, and
Ihe mother of Charity; and as man hath an understanding to be
informed, and a will to be rectified, so he hath a heart to be comforted, which is the proper office of Hope.
But why then speaks he of no more than three? St. Peter mentions eight together. And St. Paul himself in another place, puts
in nine. Why are all these left out in this glorious catalogue? Is
it enough to have these three and no more? Are the rest superfluous, and may well be spared? Nothing so, but all those virtues are
comprehended under these three. As to the trade of a stationer,
some are required to print, some to correct, some to fold, others to
bind, and others to garnish; yet all belongs to one trade. There be
many rays and but one sun; there is heat and light in one fire. So
all those graces may be reduced to these three principals, as we read
the work of faith, and labor of love, and patience of hope; temperance, patience, godliness, etc., are all servants to these three great
princes, Faith, Hope, and Charity.
Lastly, for the prelation. Wherein consisteth this high transcendency of Charity? In six privileges.
1. For latitude, Love is the greatest. Faith and Hope are restrained within the limits of our particular persons. The just man
lives by his own faith, and hopes good to himself; but love is like
the vine which God brought out of Egypt, and cast out the heathen
to plant it, which covereth the mountains with the shadow of the
boughs, and spreads the branches unto the sea and the rivers. It is
like the sun in the sky, that throws his comfortable beams upon all,
and forbears not to warm even that earth that beareth weeds. Love
extends to earth and heaven. In heaven it affecteth God the Maker
and mover: the angels as our guardians; the triumphant saints, for
their pious sanctity. On earth, it embraceth those that fear the Lord
especially; it wisheth conversion to those that do not: it counsels
the rich; it comforts the poor; it reverenceth superiors, respecteth
inferiors; doth good to friends, no evil to foes; wisheth well to all
This is the latitude of Charity. Faith hath but narrow limits, but
the extent of Love is universal, not bounded with the world. Faith
believes for thyself, but Charity derives and drives the effects of thy
faith to others. Thy faith relieves thyself, thy charity thy brother.
2 For rerpetuity and continuance. Faith lays hold on God's




190                  THOMAS ADAMS
gracious promise for everlasting salvation; hope expects this with
patience; but when God shall fulfill His word in us with joy, then
faith shall be at an end; hope at an end; but love shall remain between God and us an everlasting bond. Therefore saith the Apos.
tie, now abideth faith, etc. Now: now three, then one, and that is
Charity. When we have possession of those pleasures which we
hoped and believed, what longer use is there of Faith or Hope?
But our loves shall not end with our lives. We shall everlastingly
love our Maker, Saviour, Sanctifier, angels, and saints; where no
discontent shall breed any ire in our hallelujahs. If the use of love
he so comfortable on earth, what may we think it will be in heaven?
Thus saith Chrysostom: Only love is eternal. Now, Faith and
Hope hold up the hands of Charity, as Aaron and Hur held up the
hands of Moses; but then their use and office shall cease. Hope
shall not be, when the thing hoped is. Hope shall bring in possession, possession shall thrust out Hope. Therefore, saith Augustine,
is Charity greater. If not for the excellency, yet for the perpetuity.
Thus to justify a man, Faith is greater; but in a man justified,
Charity is greater. Let Faith alone with the great work of our salvation; but that finished, it shall end, and so yield superiority to
Love, which shall endure forever.
3. For the honor and likeness it hath unto God. Faith and
Hope make not a man like God, but Charity doth. He neither can be
said to believe, nor to hope; but we know He loves; yea, He is love.
4. In respect of the titles, Charity excelleth. It is the New
Commandment; Faith was never called so. It is the bond of perfection. Faith is not so termed; thy faith only ties thyself to God,
but love binds up all in one bundle of peace. It is the fulfilling of
the law; where hath Faith such a title? St. Ambrose, on the funeral of Theodosius, observes, that he died with these words in his
mouth, Dilexi, Dilexi, which he conceived to be his answer to the
angels asking him how he had behaved himself in his empire; I
have loved, I have loved; that was enough.
5. Charity is more noble; for it is a better thing to give than to
receive. Faith and Hope are all of the taking hand, but Cbarity
gives. If Faith gives glory to God, yet this is but His own; an ac.
knowledgment of that to be His which is His. The property of faith is
to receive into itself; the property of love to lay out itself to others.
6. For manifestation; Faith and Hope are things unseen, and
may be dissembled; but Charity can not be without visible fruits;
therefore the only trial of Faith and Hope is by Charity.
Thus Charity is greatest, if not for causality, yet for dignity.




THE THREE DIVINE SISTERS.                  191
1. More honorable, because like God. 2. More noble, because more
beneficial to man. 3. More communicable, for Faith respects thyself; Charity all. 4. More durable, when Faith is swallowed up in
vision. Hope in possession, then love remains. 6. For titles. 6.
For manifestation.
Thus you have commended to your souls these three sisters,
Faith, Hope, and Charity. Faith we must have, or we are repro.
bates; Hope, or wretches; Charity, or not Christians. There is a
promise made to Faith that it shall have access to God. To Hope;
that it shall not be ashamed. But to Charity, that it shall dwell in
God, and have God dwelling in it.
I should now tell you that as these three fair sisters came down
from heaven; so in a cross contrariety, the devil sends up three foul
fiends from hell. Against Faith, infidelity; against Hope, desperation; against Charity, malice. He that entertains the elder sister,
Unbelief, I quake to speak his doom, yet I must; "he is already
condemned." He that embraces the second ugly hag, Despair, bars
up against himself the possibility of all comfort, because he 6ffends
so precious a nature. the mercy of God, and trampels under his des.
perate feet that blood which is held out to his unaccepting hand.
He that welcomes Malice, welcomes the devil himself; he is called
the envious, and loves extremely to lodge himself in an envious
heart. These be fearful, prodigious sisters; fly them and their embraces; and remember, 0 ye whom Christ loves, the commandment
of your Saviour, " Love one another I"
I will end with our Apostle's exhortation to his Philippians. If
there be any consolation in Christ, and there is consolation in Him
when the whole world can not afford it; if any comfort of love, and
he that knows not the comforts of love knows no difference betwixt
man and beast; if any fellowship of the Spirit, by whom we are all
knit into one communion, and enriched with the same treasures of
grace; if any bowels and mercy; if uncharitableness and avarice
have turned our entrails into stone and iron; if we have not forgotten the use and need of mercy; " fulfill my joy, that ye be likeminded, and have the same love." Fulfill the Apostle's joy only?
No, the joy of the Bride and Bridegroom of the Church on earth,
of the saints in heaven; the joy of the blessed angels; the joy of
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; and last of all, the joy of your own
hearts, that you "Love one another."  Forget not that trite but
true saying,
They shall not want prosperity
That keep Faith, Hope, and Charity.




DISCOURSE FIFTEENTH
W I L I A M CHIL LINGWORTH 
THE birthplace of the " immortal Chillingworth" was Oxford: so that,
as Wood says, " by the benefit of his birth, he fell from the lap of his
raother into the arms of the muses." He was born in the autumn of
1602, and in 1616 entered at the University, became scholar of Trinity
College in 1618, was admitted Master of Arts in 1623, and elected Fellow of his College in 1623. His Protestant faith was overturned by
Fisher, the celebrated Jesuit, when he retired for further study to a college of his order at Douay. He soon, however, saw his error, and was
restored to the Protestants. In 1637, his masterly work, called " THE
RELIGION OF PROTESTANTS A SAFE WAY TO SALVATION," made its appearance, and was read with avidity, passing through two editions in less
than five months. Its spirit is seen in one of its well-known emphatic
maxims, "THE BIBLE, THE BIBLE ONLY, IS THE RELIGION OF PROTESTANTS "
In 1638 Chillingworth was preferred to the Chancellorship of Sarum,
with the prebend of Bixworth; and he was also, about the same time,
nominated to the mastership of Wygstan's Hospital, in Leicester. The
probable date of his death is January 26th, 1644. The fame of Chillingworth as an author and controversialist, is world-wide. His excellence,
says Barlow, consisted in " his logic, both natural and acquired."  Warren, in his Law Studies, says, "Chillingworth is the writer whose works
are recommended for exercitations of the student." Lord Mansfield
pronounced him to be a perfect model of argumentation. Tillotson calls
him, " incomparable, the glory of his age and nation." Locke proposes,
for the attainment in right reasoning, the constant reading of Chilling.
worth, who, by his example, "will teach both perspicuity and the way
of right reasoning better than any book that I know." His sermons are
nine in number, of which the following is, by common consent, admitted
to be the masterpiece.




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER. 193
THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER.
"This know also, that in the last days perilous times shall come. For men shall be
lovers of their own selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, disobedient to parents,
unthankful, unholy, without natural affection, truce-breakers, false accusers, incontinent,
fierce, despisers of those that are good, traitors, heady, high-minded, lovers of pleasures,
more than lovers of God; having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof'2 TIM. iii. 1-5.
To a discourse upon these words, I can not think of any fitter
introduction than that wherewith our Saviour sometime began a sermon of His, " This day is this Sc-ipture fulfilled."  And I would to
God there were not great occasion to fear that a great part of it may
be fulfilled in this place.
Two things are contained in it: First, the real wickedness of the
generality of the men of the latter times, in the first four verses.
For by "men shall be lovers of themselves, covetous, boasters,
proud," etc., I conceive is meant, men generally shall be so; otherwise this were nothing peculiar to the last, but common to all times;
for in all times some, nay, many, have been " lovers of themselves,
covetous, boasters, proud," etc. Secondly, we have here the formal
and hypocritical gpdliness of the same times, in the last verse; " having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof;" which latter
ordinarily and naturally accompanies the former. For, as the shadows
are longest when the sun is lowest, and as vines and other fruit-trees
bear the less fruit when they are suffered to luxuriate and spend
their sap upon superfluous suckers, and abundance of leaves; so,
commonly, we may observe, both in civil conversation, where there
is great store of formality, there is little sincerity; and in religion,
where there is a decay of true cordial piety, there men entertain and
please themselves, and vainly hope to please God, with external formalities and performances, and great store of that righteousness for
which Christ shall judge the world.
It were no difficult matter to show that the truth of St. Paul's
prediction is by experience justified in both parts of it; but my purpose is to restrain myself to the latter, and to endeavor to clear unto
you that, that in our times is generally accomplished: that almost
in all places the power of godliness is decayed and vanished; the
form and profession of it only remaining; that the spirit, and soul,
and life of religion, is for the most part gone; only the outward
body or carcass, or rather the picture or shadow of it, being left behind.
This is the doctrine which at this time I shall deliver to you; and the
13




194           WILLIAM CHILLINGWORTH.
use, which I desire most heartily you shall make of it, is this: to take
care that you confute, so far as it concerns your particulars, what I
fear I shall prove true in general.
[Chillingworth here alludes, in few words, to the promises and
professions of many which are disregarded, and condemning partic.
ularly their vain pretensions in prayer, proceeds thus:]
And then, for the Lord's Prayer, the plain truth is, we lie unto
God for the most part clean through it; and for want of. desiring
indeed what in word we pray for, tell Him to his face as many false
tales as we make petitions. For who shows by his endeavors that
he desires heartily that God's name should be hallowed, that is,
holily and religiously worshiped and adored by all men? That His
kingdom should be advanced and enlarged; that His blessed will
should be universally obeyed? Who shows, by his forsaking sin,
that he desires, so much as he should do, the forgiveness of it?
Nay, who doth not revenge, upon all occasions, the affronts, contempts, and injuries, put upon him, and so upon the matter curse
himself, as often as he says, " Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us?" How few depend upon God
only for their "daily bread," viz., the good things of this life, as
upon the only Giver of them, so as neither to get nor keep any of
them, by any means, which they know or fear to be offensive unto
God? How few desire in earnest to avoid temptation? Nay, who
almost is there that takes not the devil's office out of his hand, and
is not himself a tempter both to himself and others? Lastly, who
almost is there that desires heartily, and above all things, so much
as the thing deserves, to be delivered from the greatest evil; sin, I
mean, and the anger of God? Now, beloved, this is certain; he
that employs not requisite industry to obtain what he pretends to
desire, does not desire indeed, but only pretends to do so: he that
desires not what he prays for, prays with, tongue only, and not with
his heart: indeed does not pray to God, but play and dally with
Him. And yet this is all which men generally do, and therefore
herein also accomplish this prophecy, " Having a form of godliness,
b.ut denying the power thereof."
And this were ill enough were it in private; but we abuse God
Almighty also with our public and solemn formalities; we make the
Church a stage whereon to act our parts, and play our pageantry,
there we make a profession every day of confessing our sins with
humble, lowly, and obedient hearts; and yet, when we have talked
after this manner twenty, thirty, forty years together, our hearts for
the most part continue as proud, as impenitent, as disoledient, as




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER. 19E
they were in the beginning. We make great protestations " when
we assemble and meet together to render thanks to God Almighty,
for the benefits received at His hands;" and if this were to be performed with words, with hosannas and hallelujah's, and gloria patris,
and psalms and hymns, and such like outward matters, peradventure
we should do it very sufficiently; but, in the mean time, with our
lives and actions we provoke the Almighty, and that to His face
with all variety of grievous and bitter provocations; we do daily
and hourly such things as we know, and He hath assured us, to be
as odious unto Him, and contrary to His nature, as any thing in the
world is to the nature of any man in the world; and all this upon
poor, trifling, trivial, no temptations. If a man whom you have
dealt well with should deal so with you, one whom you had redeemed from the Turkish slavery, and instated in some indifferent
good inheritance, should make you fine speeches, entertain you with
panegyrics, and have your praises always in his mouth; but all this
while do nothing that pleases you, but upon all occasions put all
affronts and indignities upon you: would you say this were a thankful man? Nay, would you not make heaven and earth ring of his
unthankfulness, and detest him almost as much for his fair speeches
as his foul actions? Beloved, such is our unthankfulness to our
God and Creator, to our Lord and Saviour; our tongues ingeminate,
and cry aloud, Hosanna, hosanna, but the louder voice of our lives
and actions is, " Crucify Him, crucify Him."  We court God Almighty, and compliment with Him, and profess to esteem His service perfect freedom; but if any thing be to be done, much more if
any thing be to be suffered for Him, here we leave Him. We bow
the knee before Him, and put a reed in His hand, and a crown upon
Eis head, and cry, "Hail, King of the Jews;" but then, with our
customary sins, we give Him gall to eat and vinegar to drink; we
thrust a spear in His side, nail Him to the cross, and crucify to ourselves the Lord of glory. This is not the office of a friend to bewail a dead friend with vain lamentations; sed quce voluerit meminisse, quce mandaverit exequi-to remember what he desires and to
execute what he commands. So said a dying Roman to his friend,
and so say I to you. To be thankful to God is not to say, God be
praised, or, God be thanked; but to remember what He desires, arna
execute what He commands. To be thankful to God is certainly to
love Him, and to love Him is to keep His commandments: so saith
our Saviour, "if ye love Me, keep My commandments."  If we do
so, we may justly pretend to thankfulness, which, believe me, is not
a word, nor to be performed with words: but, if we do not so, as




196           W1LLIAM CHILLINGWORTH.
generally we do not, our talk of thankfulness is nothing else but
mere talk, and we accomplish St. Paul's prophecy herein also;
having a form of thankfulness, but not the reality, nor the power
of it.
If I should reckon up unto you how many direct lies every
wicked man tells to God Almighty, as often as he says amen to this
" form of godliness" which our Church hath prescribed; if I should
present unto you all our acting of piety, and playing of humiliation,
and personating of devotion, in the psalms, the litanies, the collects,
and generally in the whole service, I should be infinite; and, therefore, I have thought good to draw a vail over a great part of our
hypocrisy, and to restrain the remainder of the discourse to the contrariety between our profession and performance, only in two things;
I mean, faith and repentance.
And, first, for faith: we profess, and indeed generally, because
it is not safe to do otherwise, that we believe the Scripture to be
true, and that it contains the plain and only way to infinite and
eternal happiness; but if we did generally believe what we do
profess, if this were the language of our hearts as well as our
tongues, how comes it to pass that the study of it is so generally
neglected?
Let a book that treats of the philosopher's stone promise never
so many mountains of gold, and even the restoring of the golden
age again, yet were it no marvel if few should study it; and the
reason is, because few would believe it. But if there were a book
extant, and ordinary to be had, as the Bible is, which men did generally believe to contain a plain and easy way for all men to become
rich, and to live in health and pleasure, and this world's happiness,
can any man imagine that this book would be unstudied by any
man? And why then should I not believe that, if the Scripture
were firmly and heartily believed, the certain and only way to happiness, which is perfect and eternal, it would be studied by all men
with all diligence? Seeing, therefore, most Christians are so cold
and negligent in the study of it, prefer all other business, all other
pleasures before it, is there not great reason to fear that many who
pretend to believe it firmly believe it not at all, or very weakly and
faintly? If the general of an army, or an embassador to some
prince or state, were assured by the king his master that the transgressing any point of his commission should cost him his life, and
the exact performance of it be recompensed with as high a reward
as were in the king's power to bestow upon him; can it be imagined
that any man who believes this, and is in his right mind, can be so




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWIR. 197
supinely and stupidly negligent of this charge, which so much imports him, as to oversee, through want of care, any one necessary
article or part of his commission, especially if it be delivered to him
in writing, and at his pleasure to peruse it every day?  Certainly
this absurd negligence is a thing without example, and such as peradventure will never happen to any sober man to the world's end;
and, by the same reason, if we were firmly persuaded that this book
sloth indeed contain that charge and commission which infinitely
more concerns us, it were not in reason possible but that to such a
persuasion our care and diligence about it should be in some measure answerable. Seeing, therefore, most of us are so strangely careless, so grossly negligent of it, is there not great reason to fear that
though we have professors and protestors in abundance, yet the
faithful, the truly and sincerely faithful, are, in a manner, failed
from the children of men? What but this can be the cause that
men are so commonly ignorant of so many articles and particular
mandates of it, which yet are as manifest in it as if they were written with the beams of the sun? For example, how few of our
ladies and gentlewomen do or will understand that a voluptuous lifi
is damnable and prohibited to them? Yet St. Paul saith so very
plainly, " She that liveth in pleasure is dead while she liveth." I
believe that this case directly regards not the sex: he would say he,
as well as she, if there had been occasion. How few of the gallants
of our time do or will understand that it is not lawful for them to
be as expensive and costly in apparel as their means, or perhaps
their credit, will extend unto? Which is to sacrifice unto vanity
that which by the law of Christ is due unto charity; and yet the
same St. Paul forbids plainly this excess, even to women —" Also
let women (he would have said it much rather to men) array themselves in comely apparel, with shamefacedness and modesty, not
with embroidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly apparel." And,
to make our ignorance the more inexcusable, the very same rule is
delivered by St. Peter also.
How few rich men are or will be persuaded, that the law of
Christ permits them not to heap up riches forever, nor perpetually
to add house to house, and land to land, though by lawful means;
but requires of them thus much charity at least, that ever, while
they are providing for their wives and children, they should, out of
the increase wherewith God hath blessed their industry, allot the
poor a just and free proportion? And when they have provided
for them in a convenient manner (such as they themselves shall
judge sufficient and convenient in others), that then they should




198           WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH.
give over making purchase after purchase; but with the surplusage
of their revenue beyond their expense, procure, as much as lies in
them, that no Christian remain miserably poor; few rich men, I fear,
are or will be thus persuaded, and their daily actions show as much;
yet undoubtedly, either our Saviour's general command, of loving
our neighbors as ourselves, which can hardly consist with our keeping vainly, or spending vainly, what he wants for his ordinary sub
sistence, lays upon us a necessity of this high liberality: or his
special command concerning this matter; Quod superest date pauperius, " That which remains give to the poor:" or that which St.
John saith, reacheth home unto it: " Whosoever hath this world's
good, and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up the bowels
of his compassion from him, how dwelleth the love of God in him?"
Which is, in effect, as if he had said, he that keepeth from any
brother in Christ, that which his brother wants, and he wants not,
doth but vainly think that he loves God; and therefore vainly
hopes that God loves him.
Where almost are the men that are or will be persuaded, the
Gospel of Christ requires of men humility, like to that of little children, and that under the highest pain of damnation? That is, that
we should no more overvalue ourselves, or desire to be highly esteemed by others; no more undervalue, scorn, or despise others; no
more affect pre-eminence over others, than little children do, before
we have put that pride into them, which afterward we charge wholly
upon their natural corruption; and yet our blessed Saviour requires
nothing more rigidly, nor more plainly, than this high degree of
humility: " Verily (saith He), I say unto you (He speaks to His disciples affecting high places, and demanding which of them should
be greatest), except you be converted, and become as little children,
ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven."
Would it not be strange news to a great many, that not only
adultery and fornication, but even uncleanness and lasciviousness;
not only idolatry and witchcraft, but hatred, variance, emulations,
wrath, and contentions; not only murders, but envyings; not
drunkenness only, but revelings, are things prohibited to Christians,
and such as, if we forsake them not, we can not inherit the kingdom
of heaven? And yet these things, as strange as they may seem,
are plainly written; some of them by St. Peter; but all of them by
St. Paul: "Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are
these, adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, etc., of the
which I tell you before, as I have told you in times past, that they
who do such things, shall not inherit the kingdom of God."




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER. 199
If I should tell you that all bitterness and evil speaking (nay,
such is the modesty and gravity which Christianity requires of us),
foolish talk and jesting, are things not allowed to Christians, would
not many cry out, these are hard and strange sayings, who can hear
them? And yet, as strange as they may seem, they have been written well-nigh one thousand six hundred years, and are yet extant in
very legible characters, in the epistle to the Ephesians, the end of
the fourth, and the beginning of the fifth chapter.
[Chillingworth deprecates briefly and incidentally the course of
the party who were taking up arms against the king; and then pur.
sues his discourse, thus:]
You see, beloved, how many instances and examples I have given
you of our gross ignorance of what is necessary and easy for us to
know; and to these it were no difficult task to add more: now from
whence can this ignorance proceed, but from supine negligence?
And from whence this negligence, but from our not believing what
we pretend to believe? For, did we believe firmly and heartily that
this book were given us by God for the rule of our actions, and that
obedience to it were the certain and only way to eternal happiness,
it were impossible we should be such enemies to ourselves, such traitors to our own souls, as not to search it, at least with so much diligence, that no necessary point of our duty plainly taught in it, could
possibly escape us. But it is certain and apparent to all the world
that the greatest part of Christians, through gross and willful negligence, remain utterly ignorant of many necessary points of their
duty to God and man; and therefore it is much to be feared that
this book, and the religion of Christ contained in it, among an infinity of professors, labors with great penury of true believers.
It were an easy matter (if the time would permit) to present unto
you many other demonstrations of the same conclusion; but to this,
drawn from our willing ignorance of that which is easy and neces,.
sary for us to know, I will content myself to add only one more,
taken from our voluntary and presumptuous neglect to do those
things which we know and acknowledge to be necessary.
If a man should say unto me that it concerns him as much as
his life is worth, to go presently to such a place, and that he
knows but one way to it, and I should see him stand still, or go
some other way, had I any reason to believe that this man believes
himself?  Quid verba audiam, cum facta videam? saith he in the
comedy: Protestatio contra factum non valet, saith the law; and
why should I believe that that man believes obedience to Christ
the only way to present and eternal happiness, whom I see, wit.




200           WILLIAM CHILLINGWORTH.
tingly, and willingly, and constantly, and customarily, to disobey
Him? The time was that we all knew that the king could reward
those that did him service, and punish those that did him disservice,
and then all men were ready to obey his command, and he was a
rare man that durst do any thing to his face that offended him.
Beloved, if we did but believe in God, so much as most subjects
do in their king; did we as verily believe, that God could and
would make us perfectly happy, if we serve Him, though all the
world conspire to make us miserable; and that he could and would
make us miserable, if we serve Him not, though all the world should
conspire to make us happy; how were it possible that to such a
faith our lives should not be conformable?  Who was there ever
so madly in love with a present penny as to run the least hazard
of the loss of 10,0001. a year to gain it, or not readily to part with
it upon any probable hope, or light persuasion, much more a firm
belief, that by doing so he should gain 100,0001. Now, beloved,
the happiness which the servants of Christ are promised in the
Scripture, we all pretend to believe, that it exceeds the conjunction
of all the good things of the world, and much more such a proportion as we may possibly enjoy, infinitely more than 10,0001. a year,
or 100,0001. doth a penny; for 100,0001. is but a penny so many
times over, and 10,0001. a year is worth but a certain number of
pence; but between heaven and earth, between finite and infinite,
between eternity and a moment, there is utterly no proportion; and
therefore, seeing we are so apt, upon trifling occasions, to hazard
this heaven for this earth, this infinite for the finite, this all for this
nothing; is it not much to be feared that though many of us pretend to much faith, we have indeed but very little or none at all?
The sum of all which hath been spoken concerning this point, is
this-Were we firmly persuaded that obedience to the Gospel of
Christ is the true and only way to present and eternal happiness
(without which faith no man living can be justified), then the innate desire of our own happiness could not but make us studious
inquirers of the will of Christ, and conscionable performers of it;
but there are (as experience shows) very few who make it their
care and business to know the will of Christ; and of those few
again, very many, who make no conscience at all of doing what
they know; therefore, though they profess and protest they have
faith, yet their protestations are not to be regarded against their
actions; but we may safely and reasonably conclude what was tc
be concluded, that the doctrine of Christ, among an infinity of
professors, labors with great scarcity of true, serious, and hearty




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER. 201
believers; and that herein also we accomplish St. Paul's predic.
tion, " Having a form of godliness, but denying," etc.
But perhaps the truth and reality of our repentance may make
some kind of satisfaction to God Almighty for our hypocritical dallying with Him in all the rest. Truly I would be heartily glad it
were so: but I am so far from being of this faith, that herein I fear
we are most of all hypocritical, and that the generality of professors is so far from a real practice of true repentance, that scarce one
in a hundred understands truly what it is.
Some satisfy themselves with a bare confession and acknowledgment, either that they are sinners in general, or that they have committed such and such sins in particular; which acknowledgment
comes not yet from the heart of a great many, but only fro n their
lips and tongues: for how many are they that do rather complain
and murmur that they are sinners, than acknowledge and confess it;
and make it, upon the matter, rather their unhappiness and misfortune, than their true fault, that they are so? Such are all they who
impute all their commissions of evil to the unavoidable want of
restraining grace, and all their omission of good to the like want of
effectual exciting grace: all such as pretend, that the commandments of God are impossible to be kept any better than they are
kept; and that the world, the flesh, and the devil, are even Omnipotent enemies; and that God neither doth, nor will, give sufficient
strength to resist and overcome them; all such as lay all their faults
upon Adam, and say, with those rebellious Israelites (whom God
assures that they neither had nor should have just reason to say
so), that their fathers had eaten sour grapes, and their teeth were set
on edge: lastly, all such as lay their sins upon divine prescience
and predestination, saying with their tongues, O what wretched sinners have we been I but in their hearts, How could we help it I We
were predestinate to it, we could not do otherwise.
All such as seriously persuade themselves, and think to hide
their nakedness with such fig-leaves as these, can no more be said
to acknowledge themselves guilty of a fault than a man that was
born blind, or lame, with the stone or gout, can accuse himself with
any fault for being born so; well may such an one complain, and
bemoan himself, and say, O wretched man that I am, who shall
deliver me from this unhappiness?  But such a complaint is as far
from being a true acknowledgment of any faults, as a bare acknowledgment of a fault is from true repentance. For to confess a fault,
is to acknowledge, that freely and willingly, without any constraint,
or unavoidable necessity, we have transgressed the law of God, it




202            WILLIAM C HILLINGWORT H.
being in our power, by God's grace, to have done otherwise. To
aggravate this fault, is to confess we have done so when we might
easily have avoided it, and had no great nor violent temptation to
it: to pretend any great difficulty in the matter, is to excuse and
extenuate it: but to say that, all things considered, it was abso
lutey impossible for you to avoid it, is flatly to deny it. Others
there are that think they have done enough, if to confession of sin
they add some sorrow for it; if, when the present fit of sin is past,
and they are returned to themselves, the sting remaining breed some
remorse of conscience, some complaints against their wickedness
and folly for having done so, and some intentions to forsake it,
though vanishing and ineffectual. These heat-drops, this morning
dew of sorrow, though it presently vanish, and they return to their
sin again upon the next temptation, "as a dog to his vomit," when
the pang is over: yet in the pauses between, while they are in their
good mood, they conceive themselves to have very true, and very
good repentance: so that if they should have the good fortune to
be taken away in one of these intervalla, one of these sober moods,
they should certainly be saved; which is just as if a man in a
quartan ague, or the stone, or gout, should think himself rid of his
disease as oft as he is out of his fit.
But if repentance were no more but so, how could St. Paul have
truly said that " godly sorrow worketh repentance?" Every man
knows that nothing can work itself. The architect is not the house
which he builds, the father is not the son which he begets, the
tradesman is not the work which he makes; and therefore, if sorrow, godly sorrow, worketh repentance, certainly sorrow is not
repentance. The same St. Paul tells us in {he same place, that " the
sorrow of the world worketh death;" and you will give me leave to
conclude from hence, therefore it is not death; and what shall hinder me from concluding thus also; " godly sorrow worketh repentance," therefore it is not repentance?
[The precise nature of Gospel repentance is here explained, when
the preacher takes up again the thread of discourse.]
And yet, if it be not so, but that heaven may be purchased at
easier and cheaper rates, how comes it to pass that in the New Testament we are so plainly and so frequently assured that without
actual and effectual amendment, and newness of life, without actual
and effectual mortification, regeneration, sanctification, there is no
hope, no possibility of salvation?
" Every tree that bringeth forth not good fruit is hewn down,
and cast into the fire." So St. John Baptist preaches repentance.




THE FORM OF1 GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER. 203
It is not then the leaves of a fair profession, no, nor the blossoms of
good purposes and intentions, but the fruit, the fruit only, that can
save us from the fire; neither is it enough not to bear ill fruit, unless
we bring forth good. "Every tree that bringeth forth not good
fruit is hewn down and cast into the fire."
"XNot every one that saith unto Me, Lord, Lord, shall enter
into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of My
Father which is in heaven:" so our Saviour saith. And again,
after He had delivered His most Divine precepts in His Sermon on
the Mount (which sermon contains the substance of the Gospel of
Christ), He closeth up all with saying, "He that heareth these sayings of Mine, and doth them not (and yet these were the hardest
sayings that ever He said), I will liken him to a foolish man which
built his house upon the sand (that is, his hope of salvation upon a
sandy and false ground), and when the rain descended, and the floods
came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, it fell, and
great was the fall of it."
" They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts:" so St. Paul. They then that have not done so,
nor crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts, let them
be as sorrowful as they please, let them intend what they please,
they, as yet, are none of Christ's, and, good Lord I what a multitude of Christians then are there in the world that do not belong
to Christ!
" The works of the flesh, says the same St. Paul, are manifest,
which are these-adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness,
idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murders, drunkenness, revelings; of which
I tell you before, as I have told you in times past, that they which
do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God." He doth not
say they which have done such things shall not be saved, but manifestly to the contrary-" Such were some of you; but ye are washed,
but ye are sanctified," but he says, they which do such things, and
without amendment of life shall continue doing them, shall not be
excused by any pretense of sorrow and good purposes: they " shall
not inherit the kingdom of heaven."
And again, in another epistle, " Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived, neither
fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor abusers of themselves
with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, shall inherit the kingdom of God."
" In Christ Jesus (said the same St. Paul in other places) nothing




204            WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH.
availeth but faith: nothing but a new creature: nothing but keeping
the commandments of God." It is not then a wishing, but a work
ing faith; not wishing that you were a new creature, nor sorrowing
you are not, but being a new creature: not wishing you had kept,
nor sorrowing you have not kept, nor purposing vainly to keep, but
keeping His commandments, must avail with Him.
" Follow peace with all men, and holiness (saith the divine author
of the epistle to the Hebrews), without which no man shall see the
Lord.
St. Peter, in his second epistle, commends unto us a golden chain
of Christian perfections, consisting of these links, "faith, virtue,
knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness,
charity," and then adds —" He that lacketh these things is blind, and
knoweth not that he was purged from his old sins." Let his sorrow
be never so great, and his desires never so good, yet if he lack these
things, he is blind; and was purged from his old sins, but is not.
Lastly, St. John, "He that hath this hope, purifieth himself, even
as He is pure;" the meaning is not, with the same degree of purity,
for that is impossible, but with the same kind, the same truth of
purity; he that doth not purify himself, may, nay doth, flatter himself, and without warrant, presume upon God's favor; but this hope
he hath not: and again, " Little children, let no man deceive you;
he that doth righteousness, is righteous, even as He is righteous;"
and thus you see all the divine writers of the New Testament, with
one consent, and with one mouth, proclaim the necessity of real
holiness, and labor together to disenchant us from this vain fancy,
that men may be saved by sorrowing for their sin, and intending to
leave it, without effectual conversion and reformation of life; which,
it may well be feared, hath sent thousands of souls to hell in a golden
dream of heaven.
But is not this to preach works, as the papists do? No, certainly
it is not; but to preach works, as Christ and His apostles do; it is
to preach the necessity of them, which no good Protestant, no good
Christian, ever denied; but it is not to preach the merit of them,
which is the error of the papists.
But is it not to preach the law in the time of the Gospel? No,
certainly it is not; for the law forgives no sins, but requires exact
obedience, and curseth every one which, from the beginning to the end
of his life, "continueth not in all things which are written in the
law to do them;" but the Gospel says, and accordingly I have said
unto you, that there is mercy always in store for those who know
the day of their visitation, and forsake their sins in time of mercy




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT ITS POWER. 205
and that God will pardon their imperfections in the progress of holiness, who miscall not presumptuous and deliberate sins by the name
of imperfections, but seriously and truly endeavor to be perfect;
only I forewarn you, that you must never look to be admitted to
the wedding-feast of the King's Son either in the impure rags of
any customary sin or without the wedding-garment of Christian
holiness; only I forewarn you that whosoever looks to be made
partaker of the joys of heaven, must make it the chief, if not the
only business of his life, to know the will of God, and to do it; that
great violence is required by our Saviour for the taking of this
kingdom, that the race we are to run is a long race, the building we are
to erect is a great building, and will hardly, very hardly, be finished
in a day; that the work we have to do of mortifying all vices, and
acquiring all Christian virtues, is a long work; we may easily defer
it too long, but we can not possibly begin it too soon. Only I would
persuade you, and I hope I have done it, that that repentance which
is not effectual to true and timely conversion, will never be available
unto eternal salvation. And if I have proved unto you that this is
indeed the nature of true repentance, then certainly I have proved
withal that that repentance wherewith the generality of Christians
content themselves, notwithstanding their great professions what
they are, and their glorious protestations of what they intend to be,
is not the power but the form, not the truth but the shadow, of true
repentance; and that herein also we accomplish St. Paul's prediction, " Having a form of godliness," etc.
And now what remains but that (as I said in the beginning) I
should humbly entreat, and earnestly exhort, every man that hath
heard me this day, to confute in his particular what I have proved
true in the general; to take care that the sin of formality, though it
be the sin of our times, may yet not be the sin of our persons; that
we satisfy not ourselves with the shadows of religion without the
substance of it, nor with the " form of godliness " without the power
of it?
To this purpose I shall beseech you to consider, that though
sacrificing, burning incense, celebrating of set festivals, praying, fast
ing, and such like, were, under the law, the service of God comrn
manded by Himself, yet, whensoever they proceeded not from, nor
were:oined with, the sincerity of an honest heart, He professeth
frequently almost in all the prophets, not only His scorn and contempt of them all, as fond, empty, and ridiculous; but also His
hating, loathing, and detesting of them as abominable and impious.
" The sacrifice of the wicked is abomination to God.."  "What




206           WILLIAM C H ILLNGWORTH.
have I to do with the multitude of your sacrifices? saith the Lord."
"I am full of the burnt-offerings of rams, and of the fat of fed
beasts. When ye come to appear before Me, who required this at
your hands? bring no more vain oblations: incense is an abomination to Me: I can not suffer your new moons, nor sabbaths, nor
solemn days, it is iniquity, even your solemn assemblies: My soul
hateth your new moons, and appointed feasts: they are a burden to
Me, I am weary to bear them; and when you shall stretch out your
hands, I will hide Mine eyes from you; and though you make many
prayers, I will not hear; for your hands are full of blood."
And again, "He that kills an ox is as if he slew a man; he that
sacrificeth a lamb as if he cut off a dog's neck; he that offereth an
oblation as if he offered swine's flesh; be that burneth incense as
if he blessed an idol." And what is the reason of this strange
aversion of God from his own ordinances? It follows in the next
words: " They have chosen their own ways, and their soul delighteth
in their abominations."
Terrible are the words which he speaketh to the same purpose
in the prophecy of Amos, " I hate, I despise your feast days, and I
will not smell in your solemn assemblies: though you offer Me
burnt-offerings, and meat-offerings, I will not accept them; nor will
I regard your peace-offerings."
Now, beloved, if this hypocrisy, this resting in outward performances, were so odious to God under the law, a religion full of
shadows and ceremonies; certainly it will be much more odious to
do so under the Gospel, a religion of much more simplicity, and exacting so much the greater sincerity of the heart, even because it
disburdens the outward man of the performance of legal rights and
observances. And, therefore, if we now under the Gospel shall think
to delude God Almighty, as Michal did Saul, with an idol handsomely dressed instead of the true David; if we shall content and
please ourselves with being of such or such a sect or profession:
with going to church, saying, or hearing of prayers, receiving of
sacraments, hearing, repeating, or preaching of sermons, with zeal
for ceremonies, or zeal against them; or, indeed, with any thing besides consistent piety toward God, loyalty and obedience toward
our sovereign, justice and charity toward all our neighbors, temperance, chastity, and sobriety toward ourselves; certainly we shall
one day find that we have not mocked God, but ourselves; and that
our portion among hypocrites shall be greater than theirs.
In the next place, let me entreat you to consider the fearful
judgment which God hath particularly threatened to this very sin,




THE FORM OF GODLINESS WITHOUT.TS POWER. 207
f drawing nigh unto Him with our lips, when our hearts are far
from Him. It is the great judgment of being given over to the
spirit of slumber and security, the usual forerunner of speedy desolation and destruction, as we may see in the twenty-ninth chapter
of Isaiah, from the ninth to the fourteenth verses: " Stay yourselves
and wonder, cry ye out, and cry, They are drunken, but not with
wine, they stagger, but not with strong drink; for the Lord hath
poured out upon you the spirit of deep sleep, and hath closed your
eyes. The prophets, and your rulers the seers, hath He covered:"
and after, at the fourteenth verse, " The wisdom of their wise men
shall perish, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be
hid." Certainly, this judgment, if ever it were upon any people,
we have cause to fear it is now upon us. For, if the spirit of deep
sleep were not upon us, how could we sleep so securely even upon
the brink of the pit of perdition? How could we proceed on so
confidently in our mirth and jollity, nay, in our crying sins, and
horrible impieties; now when the hand of God is upon us, and wrath
is gone out, and even ready to consume us? And if the wisdom
of our wise men were not perished, how were it possible they should
so obstinately refuse the security offered of our laws, liberties, and
religion, by the king's oath, by his execrations on himself, and his
posterity, in case he should violate it; by the oaths of all his ministers, not to consent to, or be instruments in, such a violation; by
the so-much-desired triennial parliament, from which no transgressors
can possibly be secure; and instead of all this security seek for it
by a civil war, the continuance whereof must bring us to destruction
and desolation; or else He hath deceived us, by whom we are taught,
that " a kingdom divided against itself can not stand."
Now, what was the sin which provoked this fearful judgment?
What but that which I have labored to convince you of, 4,nd to
dissuade you from, even the sin of hypocrisy? As we may,ee at
the twelfth verse: " Wherefore, saith the Lord, forasmuch as this
people draw near Me with their mouth, and with their lips do honor
Me, but have removed their heart far from Me; and their fear toward Me is taught by the precepts of men: therefore, behold, I will
proceed to do a marvelous work among them; for the wisdom of
their wise men shall perish," etc.
Consider, thirdly, what woes, and woes, and woes, our Saviour
thunders out against the scribes and Pharisees for their hypocrisy:
"Woe be unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites;" and again
and again, "Woe be unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrite&s
Beloved if we be hypocrites, as they were, "tithe mint and cuam




208           WILLIAM  CHILLINGWORTH.
min. and neglect the weighty matters of the law, judgment, and
justice, and mercy," as they did; " make long prayers, and under
a pretense devour widows' houses," as they did; "wash the outside
of the dish and platter," while within we are full of ravening and
wickedness; write God's commandments very large and fair upon
our phylacteries, but shut them quite out of our hearts; "build the
sepulchers of the old prophets," and kill their successors: in fine,
if we be like "painted sepulchers, as they were, " outwardly gar
nished and beautiful, but within full of dead men's bones and rotten
ness;" we are then to make account that all these woes belong to us,
and will one day overtake us.
Consider, lastly, the terrible example of Ananias and Sapphira,
and how they were snatched away in the very act of their sin; and
that their fault was (as the text tells us) that " they lied unto God."
Beloved, we have done so a thousand thousand times: our whole'
lives (if sincerely examined) would appear, I fear, little less but a
perpetual lie. Hitherto God hath been merciful to us, and given us
time to repent; but let us not proceed still in imitating their fact,
lest at length we be made partakers of their fall.
God of His infinite mercy prevent this in every one of us, even
for His Son our Saviour Jesus Christ's sake; by whom, and with
whom, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, be all honor and glory to the
eternal Father, world without end. Amen.




DISCOURSE SIXTEENTH.
RICHARD BAXTER.
THE first half of the seventeenth century will be ever memorable
for the brilliant galaxy of great and excellent men which it produced.
Not to mention others, this period gave birth to Baxter, and Owen,
and Milton, and Flavel, and Leighton, and Bunyan, and Taylor, and
Keach, and Tillotson, and Barrow, and Howe, and Phillip Henry.
These men, and a few kindred spirits, became the great conservators of
virtue and religion, amid the grossest prevailing corruption. Conspicuous among them stands RICHARD BAXTER, whose birth fell on the 12th
of November, 1615, at Rawton, in Shropshire. His conversion and deep
religious feelings were mainly attributable to the counsels and instructions of his father, ane an old tattered bookl with which he met at the
age of fifteen, called "Bunny's Resolution;" composed, originally, by
the Jesuit Parsons. Baxter was admitted to orders in connection with
the Church of England, in 1638; when his scruples were raised by the oath
of " Submission to Archbishops, Bishops," etc., which he utterly rejected;
and became pastor of a church in Kidderminster. His ministry at this
place covers, in all, about sixteen years; and was eminently successful.
Beyond this, though preaching constantly, he held no extended pastorate.
As a Non-conformist, he suffered much from persecution; being twice
seized and condemned to imprisonment, firom which, however, he was
mercifully delivered. He at length died in 1691, and was interred in
Christ Church.
As a pastor, Baxter was most faithful and laborious; presenting, in
all respects, a model worthy of imitation. As a preacher, he spoke with
earnestness and affection, out of a full soul; as he says in his own memorable lines:
"I preached as never sure to preach again,
And as a dying man to dying men."
He neither preached about his hearers, nor above them, nor beside them,
but to them-a genuine pulpit-archer, who, like the Benjaminites, shot




210                 RICHARD BAXTER
his arrows to the breadth of a hair, leaving his hearers groaning and
crying for relief. Amid his untiring pastoral labors Baxter found time
to write largely, and his works-by no means of equal value-are computed to be sufficient to fill sixty octavo volumes. As a controversialist
some of his writings show him to have indulged in undue severity. It is
chiefly because of his practical and devotional writings, such as the " Call
to the Unconverted," the "Reformed Pastor," the "Saint's Everlasting
Rest," the " Right Method for a Settled Peace and Spiritual Comfort,"
and "Dying Thoughts," that his name will ever remain fragrant in the
churches.
The leading characteristics of Baxter are, eminent piety and vigor
of intellect, keenness of logic, burning power and plainness of language,
melting pathos, cloudless perspicuity, graceful description, and a certain
vehemence of feeling which brings home his words with an irresistible
force. He wrote with haste, which, combined with the lack of early
literary advantages, makes him inaccurate and slovenly in his style, so
that his gems are often incrusted in native earth; yet his amazing genius,
his manly eloquence, and his mighty grapple upon the mind, turning it
now this way, now that, whithersoever he listeth, entitle him to the name
given by Doddridge-the English DEMOSTHENES.
The following is from a sermon first preached at Kidderminster and
afterward at London; and which at the time of its delivery produced a
profound sensation. The sermon entire, as it comes to us, forms a considerable volume. He has already shown whom it is that men make
light of; what it is to make light of Christ; and the cause of this sin.
He here comes to the uses of the doctrine, where his powers of argumentation and appeal are generally seen to the best advantage.
MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVATION.
"' But they made light of it."-MATT. xxii. 5.
Seeing this is the great condemning sin, before we inquire after
it into the hearts of our hearers, it beseems us to begin at home, and
see that we, who are preachers of the Gospel, be not guilty of it
ourselves. The Lord forbid that they that have undertaken the
sacred office of revealing the excellences of Christ to the world,
should make light of Him themselves, and slight that salvation
which they do daily preach. The Lord knows we are all of us so
low in our estimation of Christ, and do this great work so negligently, that we have cause to be ashamed of our best sermons- but
should this sin prevail in us, we were the most miserable of all men.




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVATION. 211
Brethren, I love not censoriousness; yet dare not befriend so vile a
sin in myself or others, under pretense of avoiding it; especially
when there is so great necessity that it should be healed first in them
that make it their work to heal it in others. Oh that there were no
cause to complain that Christ and salvation are made light of by the
preachers of it I But, do not the negligent studies of some speak it
out?  Doth not their dead and drowsy preaching declare it?  Do
not they make light of the doctrine they preach, that do it as if they
were half asleep, and feel not what they speak themselves? Doth
not the carelessness of some men's private endeavors discover it 
What do they for souls? How slightly do they reprove sin! How
little do they when they are out of the pulpit for the saving of men's
souls I Doth not the continued neglect of those things wherein the
interest of Christ consisteth discover it? 1. The Church's purity
and reformation. 2. Its unity. Do not the covetous and worldly
lives of too many discover it, losing advantages for men's souls for
a little gain to themselves? And most of this is because men are
preachers before they are Christians, and tell men of that which
they never felt themselves. Of all men on earth there are few that
are in so sad a condition as such ministers: and if, indeed, they do
believe that Scripture which they preach, methinks it should be terrible to them in their studying and preaching it.
Beloved hearers; the office that God hath called us to, is by
declaring the glory of His grace, to help under Christ to the saving
of men's souls. I hope you think not that I come hither to-day on
any other errand. The Lord knows I had not set a foot out of doors
but in hope to succeed in this work for your souls. I have considered, and often considered, what is the matter that so many thousands should perish when God hath done so much for their salvation; and I find this that is mentioned in my text is the cause. It
is one of the wonders of the world, that when God hath so loved
the world as to send His Son, and Christ hath made a satisfaction by
His death sufficient for them all, and offereth the benefits of it so
freely to them, even without money or price, that yet the most of
the world should perish; yea, the most of those that are thus called
by His word I Why, here is the reason, when Christ hath done all
this, men make light of it. God hath showed that He is not unwilling; and Christ hath showed that He is not unwilling that men
should be restored to God's favor and be saved; but men are actually
unwilling themselves. God takes not pleasure in the death of sinners, but rather that they return and live. But men take such
pleasure in sin that they will die before they will return. The Lord




212                RICHARD BAXTER.
Jesus was content to be their Physician, and hath provided them a
sufficient plaster of His own blood: but if men make light of it, and
will not apply it, what wonder if they perish after all? This Scripture giveth us the reason of their perdition. This, sad experience
tells us, the most of the world is guilty of. It is a most lamentable
thing to see how most men do spend their care, their time, their
pains, for known vanities, while God and glory are cast aside; that
He who is all should seem to them as nothing, and that which is
nothing should seem to them as good as all; that God should set
mankind in such a race where heaven or hell is their certain end,
and that they should sit down, and loiter, or run after the childish
toys of the world, and so much forget the prize that they should run
for. Were it but possible for one of us to see the whole of this
business as the all-seeing God doth; to see at one view both heaven
and hell, which men are so near; and see what most men in the
world are minding, and what they are doing every day, it would bt
the saddest sight that could be imagined. Oh how should we marvel
at their madness, and lament their self-delusion I Oh poor distracted
world I what is it you run after? and what is it that you neglect?
If God had never told them what they were sent into the world to
do, or whither they were going, or what was before themri in another
world, then they had been excusable; but He hath told them over
and over, till they were weary of it. Had He left it doubtful, there
had been some excuse; but it is His sealed word, and they profess
to believe it, and would take it ill of us if we should question whether
they do believe it or not.
Beloved, I come not to accuse any of you particularly of this
crime; but seeing it is the commonest cause of men's destruction, I
suppose you will judge it the fittest matter for our inquiry, and deserving our greatest care for the cure. To which end I shall, 1.
Endeavor the conviction of the guilty. 2. Shall give them such
considerations as may tend to humble and reform them. 3. I shall
conclude with such direction as may help them that are willing to
escape the destroying power of this sin. And for the first, consider:
I It is the case of most sinners to think themselves freest from
those sins that they are most enslaved to; and one reason why we
can not reform them, is because we can not convince them of their
guilt. It is the nature of sin so far to blind and befool the sinner,
that he knoweth not what he doth, but thinketh he is free from it
when it reigneth in him, or when he is committing it: it bringetl
nen to be so much unacquainted with themselves that they knc




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALT ATION. 213
not what they think, or what they mean and intend, nor what they
love or hate, much less what they are habituated and disposed to.
They are alive to sin, and dead to all the reason, consideration, and
resolution that should recover them, as if it were only by their sinning that we must know they are alive. May I hope that you that
hear me to-day are biut willing to know the truth of your case, and
then I shall be encouraged to proceed to an inquiry. God will
judge impartially; why should not we do so? Let me, therefore,
by these following questions, try whether none of you are slighters
of Christ and your own salvation. And follow me, I beseech you,
by putting them close to your own hearts, and faithfully answering
them.
1. Things that men highly value will be remembered; they will
be matter of their freest and sweetest thoughts. This is a known
case.
Do not those then make light of Christ and salvation that think
of them so seldom and coldly in comparison of other things? Follow thy own heart, man, and observe what it daily runneth after;
and then judge whether it make not light of Christ.
We can not persuade men to one hour's sober consideration
what they should do for an interest in Christ, or in thankfulness for
His love, and yet they will not believe that they make light of Him.
2. Things that we highly value will be matter of our discourse;
the judgment and heart will command the tongue. Freely and de.
qightfully will our speech run after them. This also is a known
case.
Do not those men make light of Christ and salvation that shun
the mention of His name, unless it be in a vain or sinful use?
Those that love not the company where Christ and salvation is much
talked of, but think it troublesome, precise discourse: that had
rather hear some merry jests, or idle tales, or talk of their riches or
business in the world. When you may follow them from morning
to night, and scarce have a savory word of Christ; but perhaps
some slight and weary mention of Him sometimes; judge whether
these make not light of Christ and salvation. How seriously do
they talk of the world and speak vanity I but how heartlessly do
they make mention of Christ and salvation!
3. The things that we highly value we would secure the posses
sion of, and therefore would take any convenient course to have all
doubts and fears about them well resolved. Do not those men then
make light of Christ and salvation that have lived twenty or thirty
years in uncertainty whether they have any part in these or not, and




214                RICHARD BAXTER.
yet never seek out for the right resolution of their doubts? Ale
all that hear me this day certain they shall be saved? Oh that they
were I Oh, had you not made light of salvation, you could not so
easily bear such doubting of it; you could not rest till you had
made it sure, or done your best to make it sure. Have you nobody
to inquire of, that might help you in such a work?  Why, you
have ministers that are purposely appointed to that office. Have
you gone to them, and told them the doubtfulness of your case,
and asked their help in the judging of your condition? Alas, ministers may sit in their studies from one year to another, before ten
persons among a thousand will come to them on such an errand!
Do not these make light of Christ and salvation? When the Gospel pierceth the heart indeed, they cry out, "Men and brethren,
what shall we do to be saved?" Trembling and astonished, Paul
cries out, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" And so did the
convinced Jews to Peter. But when hear we such questions?
4. The things that we value do deeply affect us, and some motions will be in the heart according to our estimation of them. O
sirs, if men made not light of these things, what working would
there be in the hearts of all our hearers! What strange affections
would it raise in them to hear of the matters of the world to come!
How would their hearts melt before the power of the Gospel!
What sorrow would be wrought in the discovery of their sins!
What astonishment at the consideration of their misery! What
unspeakable joy at the glad tidings of salvation by the blood of
Christ I! What resolution would be raised in them upon the discovery of their duty! Oh what hearers should we have, if it were
not for this sin! Whereas now we are liker to weary them, or
preach them asleep with matters of this unspeakable moment. We
talk to them of Christ and salvation till we make their heads ache:
little would one think by their careless carriage that they heard and
regarded what we said, or thought we spoke at all to them.
5. Our estimation of things will be seen in the diligence of our
endeavors. That which we highliest value, we shall think no pains
too great to obtain. Do not those men then make light of Christ
and salvation that think all too much that they do for them; that
murmur at His service, and think it too grievous for them to endure? that ask of His service as Judas of the ointment, What need
thie waste? Can not men be saved without so much ado?  This is
more ado than needs. For the world they will labor all the day,
and all their lives; but for Christ and salvation they are afraid of
doing too much  Let us preach to them as long as we will, we can




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND S LLVATION.   215
not bring them to relish or resolve upon a life cf holiness. Follow
them to their houses, and you shall not hear them read a chapter,
nor call upon God with their families once a day: nor will they
allow Him that one day in seven which He hath separated to His
service. But pleasure, or worldly business, or idleness, must have
a part. And many of them are so far hardened as to reproach them
that will not be as mad as themselves. And is not Christ worth
the seeking?  Is not everlasting salvation worth more than all this?
Doth not that soul make light of all these that thinks His ease more
worth than they? Let but common sense judge.
6. That which we most highly value, we think we can not buy
too dear: Christ and salvation are freely given, and yet the most
of men go without them because they can not enjoy the world and
them together. They are called but to part with that which would
hinder them from Christ, and they will not do it. They are called
but to give God His own, and to resign all to His will, and let go
the profits and pleasures of this world, when they must let go either
Christ or them, and they will not. They think this too dear a bargain, and say they can not spare these things: they must hold their
credit with men; they must look to their estates: how shall they
live else? They must have their pleasure, whatsoever becomes of
Christ and salvation: as if they could live without Christ better
than without these: as if they were afraid of being losers by
Christ, or could make a saving match by losing their souls to gain
the world. Christ hath told us over and over that if we will not
forsake all for Him we can not be His disciples. Far are these men
from forsaking all, and yet will needs think that they are hIis disciples indeed.
7. That which men highly esteem, they would help their friends
to as well as themselves. Do not those men make light of Christ
and salvation that can take so much care to leave their children
portions in the world, and do so little to help them to heaven? that
provide outward necessaries so carefully for their families, but do so
little to the saving of their souls? Their neglected children and
friends will witness that either Christ, or their children's souls, or
both, were made light of.
8. That which men highly esteem, they will so diligently seek
after that you may see it in the success, if it be a matter within
their reach. You may see how many make light of Christ, by the
little knowledge they have of Him, and the little communion with
Him, and communication from Him; and the little, yea, none of His
special grace in them. Alas! how many ministers can speak it to




216                RICHARD BAXTER.
the sorrow of their hearts, that many of their people know almost
nothing of Christ, though they hear of Him daily i Nor know they
what they must do to be saved: if we ask them an account of these
things, they answer as if they understood not what we say to them,
and tell us they are no scholars, and therefore think they are excusable for their ignorance. Oh if these men had not made light of
Christ and their salvation, but had bestowed but half as much pains
to know and enjoy Him as they have done to understand the matters of their trades and callings in the world, they would not have
been so ignorant as they are: they make light of these things, and
therefore will not be at the pains to study or learn them When
men that can learn the hardest trade in a few years have not learned
a catechism, nor how to understand their creed, under twenty or
thirty years' preaching, nor can abide to be questioned about such
things, doth not this show that they have slighted them in their
hearts? How will these despisers of Christ and salvation be able
one day to look Him in the face, and to give an account of these
neglects?
Thus much I have spoken in order to your conviction. Do not
some of your consciences by this time smite you, and say, I am the
man that have made light of my salvation? If they do not, it is
because you make light of it still, for all that is said to you. But
because, if it be the will of the Lord, I would fain have this damning distemper cured, and am loath to leave you in such a desperate
condition, if I knew how to remedy it, I will give you some considerations, which may move you, if you be men of reason and understanding, to look better about you; and I beseech you to weigh
them, and make use of them as we go, and lay open your hearts to
the work of grace, and sadly bethink you what a case you are in, if
you prove such as make light of Christ.
Consider, 1. Thou makest light of Him that made not light of
thee who didst deserve it. Thou wast worthy of nothing but contempt. As a man, what art thou but a worm to God? As a sinner, thou art far viler than a toad: yet Christ wasso far from nraking light of thee and thy happiness, that He came down into the
flesh, and lived a life of suffering, and offered himself a sacrifice to
the justice which thou hadst provoked, that thy miserable soul
might have a remedy. It is no less than miracles of love and
mercy that He hath showed to us; and yet shall we slight them
after all?
Angels admire them, whom they less concern, and shall redeemed
sinners make light of them?  What barbarous, yea, devilish, yea




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVATION. 217
worse than devilish ingratitude is this I The devils never had a
saviour offered them; but thou hast, and dost thou yet make light
of Him?
2. Consider, the work of man's salvation by Jesus Christ is the
masterpiece of all the works of God, wherein He would have H
love and mercy to be magnified. As the creation declareth His
goodness and power, so doth redemption His goodness and mercy;
He hath contrived the very frame of His worship so that it shall
much consist in the magnifying of this work; and, after all this,
will you make light of it? " His name is Wonderful."  " He did
the work that none could do."  "Greater love could none show
than His."' How great was the evil and misery that He delivered
us from I the good procured for us I All are wonders, from His
birth to His ascension; from our new birth to our glorification, all
are wonders of matchless mercy —and yet do you make light of
them?
3. You make light of matters of greatest excellency and moment
in the world: you know not what it is that you slight: had you
well known, you would not have done it. As Christ said to the
woman of Samaria, "Hadst thou known who it is that speakest to
thee, thou wouldst have asked of Him the waters of life;" had they
known they would not have crucified the Lord of glory. So had
you known what Christ is, you would not have made light of Him;
had you been one day in heaven, and but seen what they possess,
and seen also what miserable souls must endure that are shut out,
you would never sure have made so light of Christ again.
O sirs, it is no trifles or jesting matters that the Gospel speaks of.
I must needs profess to you that when I have the most serious
thoughts of these things myself, I am ready to marvel that such
amazing matters do not overwhelm the souls of men; that the
greatness of the subject doth not so overmatch our understandings
and affections as even to drive men beside themselves, but that God
hath always somewhat allayed it by the distance; much more that
men should be so blockish as to make light of them. O Lord, that
men did but know what everlasting glory and everlasting torments
are: would they then hear us as they do? would they read and
think of these things as they do? I profess I have been ready to
wonder, when I have heard such weighty things delivered, how
people can forbear crying out in the congregation; much more how
they can rest till they have gone to their ministers, and learned what
they should do to be saved, that this great business might be put
out of doubt. Oh that heaven and hell should work no more on




218                RICHARD BAXTER.
men! Oh that everlastingness should work no more! Oh how can
you forbear when you are alone to think with yourselves what it is
to be everlastingly in joy or in torment! I wonder that such
thoughts do not break your sleep, and that they come not in your
mind when you are about your labor I I wonder how you can al.
most do any thing else! how you can have any quietness in your
minds! how you can eat, or drink, or rest, till you have got some
ground of everlasting consolations I Is that a man or a corpse that
is not affected with matters of this moment? that can be readier to
sleep than to tremble when he heareth how he must stand at the
bar of God? Is that a man or a clod of clay that can rise or lie
down without being deeply affected with his everlasting estate? that
can follow his worldly business and make nothing of the great business of salvation or damnation; and that when they know it is hard
at hand! Truly, sirs, when I think of the weight of the matter, I
wonder at the very best of God's saints upon earth that they are no
better, and do no more in so weighty a case. I wonder at those
whom the world accounteth more holy than needs, and scorns for
making too much ado, that they can put off Christ and their souls
with so little; that they pour not out their souls in every supplication; that they are not more taken up with God; that their thoughts
be not more serious in preparation for their account. I wonder that
they be not a hundred times more strict in their lives, and more laborious and unwearied in striving for the crown, than they are.
And for myself, as I am ashamed of my dull and careless heart, and
of my slow and unprofitable course of life, so the Lord knows I am
ashamed of every sermon that I preach: when I think what I have
been speaking of, and who sent me, and what men's salvation or
damnation is so much concerned in it, I am ready to tremble lest
God should judge me as a slighter of His truth and the souls of
men, and lest in the best sermon I should be guilty of their blood.
Methinks we should not speak a word to men in matters of such
consequence without tears, or the greatest earnestness that possibly
we can: were not we too much guilty of the sin which we reprove,
it would be so. Whether we are alone, or in company, methinks
our end, and such an end, should still be in our mind, and as before
our eyes; and we should sooner forget any thing, and set light by
any thing, or by all things, than by this.
Consider, 4. Who is it that sends this weighty message to you?
Is it not God Himself?  Shall the God of heaven speak and men
make light of it? You would not slight the voice of an angel or a
prince.




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVArION. 219
5. Whose salvation is it that you make light of? Is it not your
own? Are you no more near or dear to yourselves than to make
light of your own happiness or misery? Why, sirs, do you not
care whether you be saved or damned? Is self-love lost? are you
turned your own enemies? As he that slighteth.his meat doth
slight his life; so if you slight Christ, whatsoever you may think,
you will find it was your own salvation that you slighted. Hear
what He saith, "All they that hate Me love death."
6. Your sin is greater, in that you profess to believe the Gospel
which you make so light of. For a professed infidel to do it, that
believes not that ever Christ died, or rose again, or doth not believe
that there is a heaven or hell, this were no such marvel-but for
you, that make it your creed, and your very religion, and call yourselves Christians, and have been baptized into this faith, and seemed
to stand to it, this is the wonder, and hath no excuse. What I
believe that you shall live in endless joy or torment, and yet make
no more of it to escape torment, and obtain that joy! What I believe
that God will shortly judge you, and yet make no more preparation
for it I Either say plainly, I am no Christian, I do not believe these
wonderful things, I will believe nothing but what I see, or else let
your hearts be affected with your belief, and live as you say you do
believe. What do you think when you repeat the creed, and mention Christ's judgment and everlasting life?
7. What are these things you set so much by as to prefer them
before Christ, and the saving of your souls? Have you found a
better friend, a greater and a surer happiness than this? Good
Lord! what dung is it that men make so much of while they set so
light by everlasting glory? What toys are they that they are daily
taken up with, while matters of life and death are neglected? Why,
sirs, if you had every one a kingdom in your hopes, what were it in
comparison of the everlasting kingdom? I can not but look upon
all the glory and dignity of this world, lands and lordships, crowns
and kingdoms, even as on some brain-sick, beggarly fellow, that
borroweth fine clothes, and plays the part of a king or a lord for an
hour on a stage, and then comes down, and the sport is ended, and
they are beggars again. Were it not for God's interest in the authority of magistrates, or for the service they might do Him, I should
judge no better of them. For, as to their own glory, it is but a
smoke: what matter is it whether you live poor or rich, unless it
were a greater matter to die rich than it is? You know well enough
that death levels all. What matter is it at judgment, whether you
be to answer for the life of a rich man or a poor man? Is Dives,




220                RICHARD BAXTER.
then, any better than Lazarus? O that men knew what at poor,
deceiving shadow they grasp at while they let go the everlasting
substance! The strongest, and richest, and most voluptuous sinners
do but lay in fuel for their sorrows, while they think they are gathering together a treasure. Alas I they are asleep, and dream that
they are happy; but when they awake, what a change will they
find I Their crown is made of thorns: their pleasure hath such a
sting as will stick in the heart through all eternity, except unfeigned
repentance do prevent it. O how sadly will these wretches be convinced ere long, what a foolish bargain they made in selling Christ
and their salvation for these trifles I Let your farms and merchandize then, save ylou, if they can, and do that for you that Christ
would have done. Cry then to Baal, to save theel Oh, what
thoughts have drunkards, and adulterers, etc., of Christ, that will
not part with the basest lust for Him?  " For a piece of bread," saith
Solomon, "such men do transgress."
8. To set so light by Christ and salvation is a certain mark that
thou hast no part in them, and if thou so continue, that Christ will
set as light by thee: "Those that honor Him He will honor, and
those that despise Him shall be lightly esteemed."  Thou wilt feel
one day that thou canst not live without Him; thou wilt confess
then thy need of Him; and then thou mayest go look for a saviour
where thou wilt; for He will be no Saviour for thee hereafter, that
wouldst not value Him, and submit to Him here. Then who will
prove the loser by thy contempt? 0 what a thing will it be for a
poor miserable soul to cry to Christ for help in the day of extremity, and to hear so sad an answer as this I Thou didst set lightly
by Me and My law in the day of thy prosperity, and I will now set
as light by thee in the day of thy adversity. Read Prov. i. 24, to
the end. Thou that, as Esau, didst sell thy birthright for a mess of
pottage, shalt then find no place for repentance, though thou seek it
with tears. Do you think that Christ shed His blood to save them
that continue to make light of it? and to save them that value a
cup of drink or a lust before His salvation?  I tell you, sirs, though
you set so light by Christ and salvation, God doth not so: He will
not give them on such terms as these: He valueth the blood of His
Son, and the everlasting glory, and He will make you value them
if ever you have them. Nay, this will be thy condemnation, and
leaveth no remedy. All the world can not save him that sets lightly
by Christ. None of them shall taste of His Supper. Nor can you
blame Him to deny you what you made light of yourselves. Can
you find fault if you miss of the salvation which you slighted?




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALV ITION   221
9. The time is near when Christ and salvation will not be made
light of as now they are. When God hath shaken those careless
souls out of their bodies, and you must answer for all your sins in
your own name, oh then what would you give for a saviour I When
a thousand bills shall be brought in against you, and none to relieve
you, then you will consider, Ohl Christ would now have stood
between me and the wrath of God: had I not despised Him, He
would have answered all. When you see the world hath left you,
and your companions in sin have deceived themselves and you, and
all your merry days are gone, then what would you give for that
Christ and salvation that now you account not worth your labor I
Do you think that when you see the judgment set, and you are
doomed to everlasting perdition for your wickedness, that you
should then make as light of Christ as now? Why will you not
judge now as you know you shall judge then? Will He then be
worth ten thousand worlds? and is He not now worth your highest
estimation and dearest affection?
10. God will not only deny thee that salvation thou madest light
of, but He will take from thee all that which thou didst value before
it: he that most highly esteems Christ shall have Him, and the
creatures, so far as they are good here, and Him without the creature hereafter, because the creature is not useful; and he that sets
more by the creature than by Christ, shall have some of the creature
without Christ here, and neither Christ nor it hereafter.
So much of these considerations, which may show the true face
of this heinous sin.
What think you now, friends, of this business? Do you not
see by this time what a case that soul is in that maketh light of
Christ and salvation? What need then is there that you should
take heed lest this should prove your own case I The Lord knows
it is too common a case. Whoever is found guilty at the last of this
sin, it were better for that man he had never been born. It were
better for him he had been a Turk or Indian, that never had heard
the name of a Saviour, and that never had salvation offered to him:
for such men 1" have no cloak for their sin." Besides all the rest of
their sins, they have this killing sin to answer for, which will undo
them. And this will aggravate their misery, that Christ whom they
set light by must be their Judge, and for this sin will he judge them.
Oh that such would now consider how they will answer that ques.
tion that Christ put to their predecessors: " How will ye escape the
damnation of hell?" or, "How shall we escape if we neglect so
great salvation?" Can you escape without a Christ? or will a de



222                RICHARD BAXTER.
spised Christ save you then? If he be accursed that sets light by
father or mother, what then is he that sets light by Christ? It was
the heinous sin of the Jews, that among them were found such as
set light by father and mother. But among us, men slight the Father
of spirits I In the name of God, brethren, I beseech you to consider
how you will then bear this anger which you now make light of I
You that can not make light of a little sickness or want, or of natural
death, no, not of a tooth-ache, but groan as if you were undone; how
will you then make light of the fury of the Lord, which will burn
against the contemners of His grace I Doth it not behoove you
beforehand to think of these things?
Hitherto I have been convincing you of the evil of the sin, and
the danger that followeth: I come now to know your resolution for
the time to come. What say you? Do you mean to set as light by
Christ and salvation as hitherto you have done; and to be the same
men after all this? I hope not. Oh let not your ministers that would
fain save you, be brought in as witnesses against you to condemn you;
at least, I beseech you put not this upon me. Why, sirs, if the Lord
shall say to us at judgment, Did you never tell these men what
Christ did for their souls, and what need they had of Him, and how
nearly it did concern them to look to their salvation, that they made
light of it? We must needs say the truth; Yea, Lord, we told them
of it as plainly as we could; we would have gone on our knees to
them if we had thought it would have prevailed; we did entreat
them as earnestly as we could to consider these things; they heard
of these things every day; but, alas, we could never get them to
their hearts: they gave us the hearing, but they made light of all
that we could say to them. Oh I sad will it prove on your side, if
vou force us to such an answer as this.
Dearly beloved in the Lord, I have now done that work which I
came upon; what effect it hath, or will have, upon your hearts, I
know riot, nor is it any further in my power to accomplish that
which my soul desireth for you. Were it the Lord's will that I might
have my wish herein, the words that you have this day heard should
so stick by you that the secure should be awakened by them, and
none of you should perish by the slighting of your salvation. I can
not now follow you to your several habitations to apply this word
to your particular necessities; but 0 that I could make every man's
conscience a preacher to himself that it might do it, which is ever
with you I That the next time you go prayerless to bed, or about
your business, conscience might cry out, Dost thou set no more by




MAKING LIGHT OF CHRIST AND SALVArION.  223
Christ and thy salvation? That the next time you are tempted to
think hardly of a holy and diligent life (I will not say to deride it as
more ado than needs), conscience might cry out to thee, Dost thou
set so light by Christ and thy salvation? That the next time you
are ready to rush upon known sin, and to please your fleshly desires
against the command of God, conscience might cry out, Is Christ
and salvation no more worth than to cast them away, or venture
them for thy lusts? That when you are following the world with
your most eager desires, forgetting the world to come, and the change
that is a little before you, conscience might cry out to you, Is
Christ and salvation no more worth than so? That when you are
next spending the Lord's day in idleness or vain sports, conscience
might tell you what you are doing. In a word, that in all your neg.
lects of duty, your sticking at the supposed labor or cost of a godly
life, yea, in all your cold and lazy prayers and performances, conscience might tell you how unsuitable such endeavors are to the reward; and that Christ and salvation should not be so slighted. I will
say no more but this at this time, It is a thousand pities that when
God hath provided a Saviour for the world, and when Christ hath
suffered so much for their sins, and made so full a satisfaction to
justice, and purchased so glorious a kingdom for his saints, and all
this is offered so freely to sinners, to lost, unworthy sinners, even
for nothing, that yet so many millions should everlastingly perish
because they make light of their Saviour and salvation, and prefer the
vain world and their lusts before them. I have delivered my mes.
sage, the Lord open your hearts to receive it. I have persuaded
you with the word of truth and soberness; the Lord persuade you
more effectually, or else all this is lost. Amen.




DISCOURSE SEVENTEENTH.
JOHN BUNYAN.
THE " Shakspeare among divines," as Bunyan has been justly termed,
was born in the year 1628, at Elstow in Bedfordshire, the son of a tlavel.
ing tinker. In his youth he led a wandering and dissipated life, and
though frequently convicted of sin, it was not until twenty-five years of
age that he found peace in believing; at which time he joined a dissenting Baptist Church in Bedford. Three years subsequent he became a
preacher of the Gospel; and after the Restoration, in common with
many others, he suffered much fiom the cruel persecutions under the reign
of that unprincipled tyrant, Charles the Second, and was finally thrown
into Bedford jail, where he was immured for nearly thirteen years, and
where he wrote, among other works, the "Pilgrim's Progress." Upon
his release he resumed preaching, and was very popular; attracting
immense congregations, whether in his own meeting-house at Bedford,
or on his visits to London and other places. After sixty years of hardship, persecution, and unwearied toil, he ended his labors August 31st,
1688, and went up to sit down with the shining ones of the Celestial
City.
The world has never seen a more strongly marked character than
JOHN BUNYAN. He stands out, by himself alone, formed after no model,
and resembling, in many pointsf no other man, whether in times ancient
or modern. Baxter owed little to the education of the schools, Bunyan
still less. God's providence was the school where Bunyan was educated;
and almost the only books which he studied were nature and his own
heart, and the Bible. God made him what he was. In the whole supel
structure of his majestic character, the touch of a human hand is scarcely
seen. " The Spirit of God was his teacher; the very discipline of his
intellect was a spiritual discipline, the conflicts that his soul sustained
with the powers of darkness were the sources of his intellectual
strength."
Bunyan is best known from his unique allegory-the " Pilgrim's Progress"-the like of which is not found in the literature of any age; and
upon which have been lavished the praises of the best scholars and criy




THE BARREN  FIG-TREE.                      225
ics, as well as of the delighted multitude. But all his writings-and they
are very extensive, enough to fill three royal octavo double-column volumes
-show him to have been a man of the highest originality of genius. His
sparkling thoughts are in racy, vigorous English-the words of the
people, the pure beauties of the good old Saxon tongue-and they come
welling out like the limpid waters of the mountain streamlet. Bunyan was
in love with nature; and every form and figure that fell upon his cameralike mind is revetled again in glowing life in his writings, the more
charming because tinged with his own brilliant imagination. Add to
this that he always wrote, not from the "dried specimens of earlier
collectors," but from the " glowing records of his own consciousness and
experience, the fruits of grace and plants of righteousness, blooming and
fragrant in the watered garden of his own heart," and it is not surprising that Bunyan has come to be regarded as among the very first preachers and writers which any age or country has produced. The following
is from one of his very long discourses, and is a fair example of his
style of preaching.
THE BARREN FIG-TREE; OR, THE DOOM AND DOWNFALL OF THE FRUITLESS PROFESSOR.
" And he answering, said unto him, Lord let it alone this year also, till I shall dig
about it, and dung it; and if it bear fruit, well; and if not, then after that, thou shalt cut
it down." —LuE xiii.: 8, 9.
These are the words of the Dresser of the vineyard, who, I told
you, is Jesus Christ. (For " He made intercession for the transgressors.") And they contain a petition presented to offended justice,
praying, that a little more time and patience might be exercised toward the barren cumber-ground fig-tree.
In this petition there are six things considerable.  1. That justice
might be deferred.  "0 that justice might be deferred I Lord, let
it alone, etc., a while longer."  2. Here is time prefixed, as a space
to try if more means will cure a barren fig-tree. " Lord, let it alone
this year also." 3. The means to help it are propounded; " till I
shall dig about it, and dung it." 4. Here is also an insinuation of a
supposition that by thus doing God's expectation may be answered:
" and if it bear fruit, well." 5. Here is a supposition that the barren
fig-tree may yet abide barren, when Christ has done what he will
into it: " and if it bear fruit," etc. 6. Here is at last a resolution,
that if thou continue barren, hewing days will come upon thee:
16




226                   JOHN BUNYAN.
" and if it bear fruit, well; and if not, then after that, thou shalt cut
it down."
But to proceed according to my former method, by way of exposition.
Lord, let it alone this year also. Here is astonishing grace indeed I
Astonishing grace, I say, that the Lord Jesus should concern Himself with a barren fig-tree; that He should step in to stop the blow
from a barren fig-tree! True He stopped the blow but for a time:
but why did He stop it at all?  Why did He not fetch out the ax?
Why did He not do execution?  Why did He not cut it down?
Barren fig-tree, it is well for thee that there is a Jesus at God's right
hand, a Jesus of that largeness of bowels as to have compassion for
a barren fig-tree; else justice had never let thee alone to cumber the
ground as thou hast done. When Israel also had sinned against
God, down they had gone, but that Moses stood in the breach.
"Let Me alone," said God to him,' that I may consume them in a
moment, and I will make of thee a great nation." Barren fig-tree 
dost thou hear? Thou knowest not how oft the hand of divine
justice hath been up to strike, and how many years since thou hadst
been cut down, had not Jesus caught hold of his Father's ax. "Let
MIe alone, let Me fetch My blow," or, " Cut it down I why cumbereth
it the ground?" Wilt thou not hear yet, barren fig-tree? Wilt
thou provoke still? Thou hast wearied men, and provoked the
justice of God: and wilt thou weary my God, also?
Lord, let it alone THIS YEAR. " Lord, a little longer! Let us not
lose a soul for want of means. I will try. I will see if I can make
it fruitful. I will not beg a long life, nor that it might still be barren,
and so provoke Thee. I beg, for the sake of the soul, the immortal
soul, Lord, spare it one year only, one year longer, this year also.
If I do any good to it, it will be in little time. Thou shalt not be
overwearied with waiting; one year, and then!"
Barren fig-tree I dost thou hear what a striving there is between
the vine-dresser and the husbandman for thy life?  " Cut it down,"
says one; "Lord, spare it," saith the other. " It is a cumber-ground,"
saith the Father.  " One year longer," prays the Son. " Let it alone
this year also."
Till I shall dig about it, and dung it. The Lord Jesus, by these
words, supposeth two things as causes of the want of fruit in a
barren fig-tree; and two things He proposeth as a remedy. The
things that are a cause of the want of fruit, are, 1. It is earth-bound.
" Lord, the fig-tree is earth-bound." 2. A want of warmer mean,
or fatter means.




THE BARREN  FIG-TREE.                     227
Wherefore accordingly He propoundeth, 1. To loosen the earth,
to dig about it. 2. And then to supply it with manure: to "dig
about it, and dung it."
Lord, let it alone this year also, until I shall dig about it. I
doubt it is too much earth-bound. The love of this world, and the
deceitfulness of riches lie too close to the roots of the heart of this
professor. The love of riches, the love of honors, the love of
pleasures, are the thorns that choke the word. " 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 of the world." How then
(where these things bind up the heart) can there be fruit brought
forth to God?
Barren fig-tree! see how the Lord Jesus, by these very words,
suggesteth the cause of thy fruitlessness of soul. The things of this
world lie too close to thy heart; the earth with its things has bound
up thy roots; thou art an earth-bound soul, thou art wrapped up
in thick clay.  "If any man love the world, the love of the Father
is not in him;" how then can he be fruitful in the vineyard? This
kept Judas from the fruit of caring for the poor. This kept Demas
from the fruit of self-denial. And this kept Ananias and Sapphira
his wife from the goodly fruit of sincerity and truth. What shall I
say? These are " foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in
destruction and perdition; for the love of money is the root of all
evil." How then can good fruit grow from such a root, the root of
all evil, "which, while some coveted after, they have erred from the
faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows?" It is
an evil root, nay, it is the root of all evil. How then can the professor that hath such a root, or a root wrapped up in such earthly
things, as the lusts, and pleasures, and vanities of this world, bring
forth fruit to God?
Till I shall DIG about it.-" Lord, I will loosen his roots; I will
dig up this earth, I will lay his roots bare. My hand shall be upon
him by sickness, by disappointments, by cross providences. I will
dig about him until he stands shaking and tottering, until he be
ready to fall; then, if ever, he will seek to take faster hold." Thus,
I say, deals the Lord Jesus ofttimes with the barren professor; He
diggeth about him, He smiteth one blow at his heart, another blow
at his lusts, a third at his pleasures, a fourth at his comforts, another
at his self-conceitedness: thus He diggeth about him. This is the
way to take bad earth from the roots, and to loosen his roots from
the earth. Barren fig-tree I see here the care, the love, the labor,




228                  JOHN  BUN YAN.
and way, which the Lord Jesus, the Dresser of the vineyaId, is fais
to take with thee, if haply thou mayest be made fruitful.
2. Till I shall dig about it, and DUNG it.-As the earth, by binding
the roots too closely, may hinder the tree's being fruitful, so the
want of better means may also be a cause thereof. And this is more
than intimated by the Dresser of the vineyard; "till I shall dig
about it and dung it."  " I will supply it with a more fruitful min
istry, with a warmer word. I will give them pastors after Mine own
heart. I will dung them." You know dung is a more warm, more
fat, more hearty and succoring matter, than is commonly the place
in which trees are planted.
I will "dig about it, and dung it."  That is, "I will bring it
under a heart-awakening ministry; the means of grace shall be fat
and good. I will also visit it with heart-awakening, heart-warming,
heart-encouraging considerations. I will apply warm dung to its
roots. I will strive with him by My Spirit, and give him some
tastes of the heavenly gift, and the power of the world to come. I
am loath to lose him for want of digging." " Lord, let it alone this
year also, until I shall dig about it and dung it."
And if it bearfiruit, well.-" And if the fruit of all My labor doth
make this fig-tree fruitful, I shall count My time, My labor, and
means, well bestowed upon it. And Thou also, O My God, shalt be
therewith much delighted. For Thou art gracious and merciful, and
repentest Thee of the evil which Thou threatenest to bring upon a
people."
These words, therefore, inform us that if a barren fig-tree, a barren professor, shall now at last bring forth fruit to God, it shall go
well with that professor, it shall go well with that poor soul. His
former barrenness, his former tempting of God, his abuse of God's
patience and long-suffering, his misspending year after year, shall
now be all forgiven him. Yea, God the Father, and our Lord Jesus
Christ, will now pass by, and forget all, and say, Well done, at the
last. " When I say to the wicked, O wicked man thou shalt surely
die; if he then do that which is lawful and right, if he walk in the
statutes of life, without committing iniquity, he shall surely live, he
shall not die."
Barren fig-tree  dost thou hear? The ax is laid to thy roots;
the Lord Jesus prays God to spare thee. Hath He been digging
about thee?  Hath He been manuring thee?  O barren fig-tree 
now thou art come to the point. If thou shalt now become good;
if thou shalt, after a gracious manner, suck in the Gospel, and if
thou shalt bring forth fruit unto God, well; but if not, the fire is the




THE BARREN FIG-TREE.                   229
last. Fruit, or the fire; fruit or the fire, barren fig-tree I " If it
bear fruit, well!"
And IF NOT, then after that Thou shalt cut it down. —" And if not,"
etc. The Lord Jesus, by this f; giveth us to understand that there
is a generation of professors in the world that are incurable, that
will not, that can not repent, nor be profited by the means of grace.
A generation, I say, that will retain a profession, but will not bring
forth fruit; a generation that will wear out the patience of God,
time and tide, threatenings and intercessions, judgments and mercies,
and after all will be unfruitful.
O the desperate wickedness that is in thy heart I Barren proiessor, dost thou hear? The Lord Jesus stands yet in doubt about
thee; there is an if stands yet in the way. I say, the Lord Jesus
stands yet in doubt about thee, whether or no at last thou wilt be
good; whether He may not labor in vain; whether His digging and
dunging will come to more than lost labor. " I gave her space to
repent, and she repented not." " I digged about it, I dunged it; I
granted time, and supplied it with means; but I labored here in
vain, and spent My strength for naught and in vain." Dost thou
hear, barren fig-tree? There is yet a question whether it will be
well with thy soul at last?
And if not, AFTER THAT Thou shalt cut it down. There is nothing
more exasperating to the mind of a man than to find all his kindness and favor slighted. Neither is the Lord Jesus so provoked
with any thing, as when sinners abuse His means of grace. "If it
be barren and fruitless under My Gospel; if it turn My grace into
wantonness; if after digging and dunging, and waiting, it yet remain unfruitful, I will let thee cut it down."
Gospel-means applied, is the last remedy for a barren professor.
If the Gospel, if the grace of the Gospel will not do, there can be
nothing expected, but " cut it down."  " Then after that thou shalt
cut it down."  "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the
prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would
I have gathered thy children together, as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not I Behold your house is left
unto you desolate." Yet it can not be but that this Lord Jesus
who at first did put a stop to the execution of His Father's justice,
because He desired to try more means with the fig-tree; I say it can
not be but that a heart so full of compassion as His is, should be
touched to behold this professor must now be cut down. "And
when He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over it, say.
ing, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the




230                   JOHN BUNYAN.
things which belong unto thy peace! But now they are hid from
thine eyes."
After that THOU SHALT CUT IT DOWN. When Christ giveth thee
over, there is no intercessor or mediator, no more sacrifice for sin.
All is gone but judgment, but the ax, but " a certain fearful lookingfor of judgment, and fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries."
Barren fig-tree! take heed that thou comest not to these last
words, for these words are a give-up, a cast-up, a cast-up of a castaway. "After that thou shalt cut it down."  They are as much as
if Christ had said, "Father, I begged for more time for this barren
professor; I begged until I should dig about it, and dung it; but
now, Father, the time is out, the year is ended, the summer is ended,
and no good done. I have also tried with My means, with the Gospel; I have digged about it; I have laid also the fat and hearty
dung of the Gospel to it, but all comes to nothing. Father, I deliver up this professor to Thee again; I have done. I have done
all, I have done praying and endeavoring, I will hold the head of
Thine ax no longer: take him into the hands of justice. Do justice! Do the law! I will never beg for him more." " After that
Thou shalt cut it down."  "Woe unto them when I depart from
them I"
Now then, I will show you, by some signs, how you may know
that the day of grace is ended, or near to ending with the barren
professor. "And after that, thou shalt cut it down."
He that hath stood it out against God, and that hath withstood
all those means for fruit that God hath used for the making of him
(if it might have been) a fruitful tree in His garden, is in this danger. And this, indeed, is the sum of the parable. The fig-tree
here mentioned was blessed with the application of means, had time
allowed it to receive the nourishment; but it outstood, withstood,
overstood, all —all that the husbandman did, all that the vine-dresser
did.
But a little distinctly to particularize as to the signs of being
past grace.
The day of grace is like to be past, when a professor hath with.
stood, abused, and worn out God's patience. Then he is in danger;
this is a provocation; then God cries, " Cut it down." There are
some men that steal into a profession, nobody knows how, even as
this fig-tree was brought into the vineyard, by other hands than
God's-and there they abide lifeless, graceless, careless, and without




THE BARREN  FIG-TREE.                     231
any good conscience to God at all. Perhaps they came in fcr the
loaves, for a trade, for credit, for a blind; or it may be to stifle and
choke the shocks and grinding pangs of an awakened and disquieted
conscience. Now having obtained their purpose, like the sinners
of Zion, they are at ease, secure; saying, like Agag, "Surely the
bitterness of death is past;" in other words, "I am well, I shall be
saved, and go to heaven." Thus in these vain conceits they spend
a year, two or three; not remembering that at every season of grace,
and at every opportunity of the Gospel, the Lord comes seeking
fruit. Well, sinner I well, barren fig-tree! this is but a coarse beginning: God comes for fruit.
"What have I here?" saith God. "What fig-tree is this, that
hath stood this year in My vineyard, and brought Me forth no fruit?
I will cry unto him,' Professor, barren fig-tree, be fruitful! I look
for fruit!' I expect fruit; I must have fruit; therefore bethink thyself." At this the professor pauses; but these are words, not blows;
therefore off goes this consideration from the heart. Whea God
comes the next year, He finds him still as he was, a barren fi aitless
cumber-ground. And now again He complains. "Here ale two
years gone, and no fruit appears! Well, I will defer Mine anger for
My name's sake; I will defer Mine anger for My praise; I will
refrain from thee, that I cut thee not off, as yet. I will wait, I will
yet wait to be gracious." But this helps not. This hath not the
least influence upon the barren fig-tree.  "Tush!" saith he, "here
is no threatening. God is merciful. He will defer His anger, He
waits to be gracious; I am not yet afraid."  0! how ungodly men,
that are unawares crept into the vineyard-how do they turn the
grace of our God into lasciviousness! Well, He comes the third
year for fruit, as He did before, but still He finds but a barren fig
tree; not fruit I Now, He cries out again, " O thou dresser of iAt
vineyard, come hither; here is a fig-tree hath stood these three
years in My vineyard, and hath at every season disappointed My
expectations, for I have looked for fruit in vain. Cut it down; My
patience is worn out. I shall wait on this fig-tree no longer."
2. And now He begins to shake the fig-tree with His threatenlng.  "Fetch out the ax."  Now the ax is death. Death, therefore,
is called for.  " Death, come, smite Me this fig-tree."  And withal
the Lord shakes this sinner, and whirls him upon a sick bed, saying,
"Take him, Death. He hath abused My patience and forbearance,
not remembering that it should have led him to repentance, and to
the fruits thereof. Death, fetch away this fig-tree to the fire, fetch
away this fig-tree to the fire, fetch this barren professor to hell I" At




232                  JOHN BUNYAN.
this Death comes, with grim looks into the chamber, yea, and Hell
follows with him to the bed-side, and both stare this professor in the
face, yea, begin to lay hands upon him, one smiting him with pains
in his body, with head-ache, heart-ache, back-ache, shortness of
breath, fainting qualms, trembling of joints, stopping at the chest,
and almost all the symptoms of a man past all recovery. Now,
while Death is thus tormenting the body, Hell is doing with the
mind and conscience, striking them with its pains, casting sparks of
fire in thither, wounding with sorrows and fears of everlasting
damnation, the spirit of this poor creature.
And now he begins to bethink himself, and to cry to God for
mercy, "Lord, spare me! Lord, spare me "  "Nay," saith God,
"you have been a provocation to Me these three years. How
many times have you disappointed Me? How many seasons have
you spent in vain? How many sermons and other mercies did I of
My patience afford you, but to no purpose at all? Take him,
Death." "0! good Lord," saith the sinner; "spare me but this
once. Indeed I have been a barren professor, and have stood to no
purpose at all in Thy vineyard; but spare! 0 spare this one time,
I beseech Thee, and I will be better." " Away, away I you will
not; I have tried you these three years already; you are naught;
if I should recover you again, you would be as bad as you were
before." (And all this talk is while Death stands by.) The sinner
cries again. "Good Lord, try me this once; let me get up agair
this once, and see if I do not mend."  "But will you promise Me
to mend?" " Yes, indeed, Lord, and I vow it too. I will never be
so bad again, I will be better."  " Well," saith God, " Death, let this
professor alone for this time; I will try him a while longer. He
hath promised, he hath vowed that he will amend his ways. It may
be he will mind to keep his promises. Vows are solemn things; it
may be he may fear to break his vows. Arise from off thy bed."
And now God lays down his ax. At this the poor creature is
very thankful, praises God, and fawns upon Him, shows as if he did
it heartily, and calls to others to thank Him too. He, therefore,
riseth, as one would think, to be a new creature indeed. But by
that time he hath put on his clothes, is come down from his bed,
and ventured into the yard or shop, and there sees how all things
are gone to sixes and sevens, he begins to have second thoughts, and
says to his folks, "What have you all been doing?  How are all
things out of order? I am, I can not tell what, behindhand: one
may see if a man be but a little to aside, that you have neither wis.
dom nor prudence to order things" And now, instead of seeking




THE BARREN FIG-TREE.                   2338
to spend the rest of his time to God, he doubleth his diligence after
this world. "Alas I" he says, " all must not be lost; we must have
provident care." And thus, quite forgetting the sorrows of death, the
pains of hell, the promises and vows which he made to God to be
better because judgment was not (now) speedily executed, therefore
the heart of this poor creature is fully set in him to do evil.
3. These things proving ineffectual, God takes hold of His ax
again, sends death to a wife, to a child, to his cattle. " Your young
men have I slain, and taken away your horses." " I will blast him,
cross him, disappoint him, and cast him down, and will set Myself
against him in all that he putteth his hand unto." At this the poor
barren professor cries out again, "Lord, I have sinned; spare me
once more, I beseech thee. O take not away the desire of mine
eyes; spare my children, bless me in my labors, and I will mend
and be better."  "No," saith God, "you lied to me last time; I will
trust you in this no longer." And withal He tumbleth his wife, the
child, the estate, into a grave, and then returneth to His place, till
this professor, more unfeignedly acknowledgeth his offense."
At this the poor creature is afflicted and distressed, rends his
clothes, and begins to call the breaking of his promise and vows to
mind. He mourns and prays, and, like Ahab, a while walks softly
at the remembrance of the justness of the hand of God upon him.
And now he renews his promise, " Lord, try me this one time more;
take off Thy hand and see; they go far that never turn." Well,
God spareth him again, sets down His ax again. " Many times He
did deliver them, but they provoked Him with their counsel, and
were brought low for their iniquity."  Now they seem to be thankful again, and are as if they were resolved to be godly indeed. Now
they read, they pray, they go to meetings, and seem to be serious a
pretty while. But at last they forget. Their lusts prick them; suitable temptations present themselves, wherefore they turn to their
crooked ways again. "When He slew them, then they sought Him,
and they returned and inquired early after God; nevertheless they
did flatter Him with their mouth, and lied unto Him with their
tongue."
4. Yet again, the Lord will not leave this professor, but will
take up His ax again, and will put him under a more heart-searching ministry; a ministry that shall search him and turn him over and
over; a ministry that shall meet with him, as Elijah met with Ahab,
in all his acts of wickedness. And now the ax is laid to the roots
of the tree. Besides, this ministry doth not only search the heart,
but presenteth the sinner with the golden rays of the glorious Gos




234                   JOHN  BUNYAN.
pel. Now is Christ Jesus set forth evidently; now is grace dis
played sweetly; now, now are the promises broken like boxes of
ointment, to the perfuming of the whole room. But, alas I there is
yet no fruit on this fig-tree. While his heart is searching, he
wrangles; while the glorious grace of the Gospel is unvailing, this
professor wags and is wanton; gathers up some scraps thereof;
tastes the good word of God, and the powers of the world to come;
drinketh in the rain that comes oft upon him, but bringeth not forth
fruit meet for Him, whose Gospel it is, takes no heed to walk in the
law of the Lord God of Israel with all his heart, but counteth that
the glory of the Gospel consisteth in talk and show, and that our
obedience thereto is a matter of speculation; that good works lie in
good words; and if they can finely talk, they think they bravely
please God. They think the kingdom of God consisteth only in
word, not in power. And thus proveth ineffectual this fourth
means also.
5. Well, now the ax begins to be heaved higher. For now, indeed, God is ready to smite the sinner; yet before He will strike the
stroke, He will try one way more at last, and if that misseth, down
goes the fig-tree. Now this last way is to tug and strive with this
professor by the Spirit. Wherefore the Spirit of the Lord is now
come to him, but not always to strive with man. Yet awhile He
will strive with him; He will awaken, He will convince, He will
call to remembrance former sins, former judgments, the breach of
former vows and promises, the misspending of former days; He
will also present persuasive arguments, encouraging promises, dreadful judgments, the shortness of time to repent in, and that there is
hope if He come. Further, He will show him the certainty of
death, and of the judgment to come; yea, He will pull and strive
with this sinner. And behold, the mischief now lies here; here is
tugging and striving on both sides! The Spirit convinces, the man
turns a deaf ear to God; the Spirit saith, Receive My instruction
and live, but the man pulls away his shoulder; the Spirit shows
him whither he is going, but the man closeth his eyes against it;
the Spirit offereth violence, the man strives and resists. They have
"done despite unto the Spirit of grace."  The Spirit parlieth a sec.
ond time, and urgeth reasons of a new nature; but the sinner
answereth, "No, I have loved strangers, and after them I will go."
At this God's fury comes up into His face; now He comes out of
His holy place, and is terrible; now He sweareth in His wrath, the)
shall never enter into His rest. "I exercised toward you My pa.
tience, yet you have not turned unto Me," saith the Lord. " I smote




THE BARREN  FIG-TREE.                  2365
you in your person, in your relations, in your estate, yet you have
not returned unto Me," saith the Lord. "In thy filthiness is lewdness. Because I have purged thee, and thou wast not purged, thou
shalt not be purged from thy filthiness any more, till I have caused
My fury to rest upon thee." Cut it down; why doth it cumber the
ground?      *       *       *      *       *      *
But to give you, in a few particulars, the manner of this man's
dying:
1. Now he bath his fruitless fruit beleaguer him round his bed,
together with all the bands and legions of his other wickedness.
"His own iniquities shall take the wicked himself, and he shall be
holden with the cords of his sins."
2. Now some terrible discovery of God is made out unto him, to
the perplexing and terrifying of his guilty conscience. " God shall
cast upon him, and not spare; he would fain flee out of His hand."
3. The dark entry he is to go through will be a sore amazement
to him, for "fears shall be in the way." Yea, terrors will take hold
on him, when he shall see the yawning jaws of death to gape upon
him, and the doors of the shadow of death open to give him passage
out of the world. "Now, who will meet me in this dark entry?
how shall I pass through this entry into another world?"
4. For by reason of guilt, and a shaking conscience, his life will
hang in continual doubt before him, and he shall be afraid day and
night, and shall have no assurance of his life.
5. Now also, Want will come up against him; it will come up
like an armed man. This is a terrible enemy to him that is graceless in heart, and fruitless in life. This Want will continually cry
in thine ears, " Here is a new birth wanting I a new heart, and a new
spirit wanting I here is faith wanting! here are love and repentance
wanting I here is the fear of God wanting! and a good conversation
wanting!"  "Thou art weighed in the balances, and art found
wanting."
6. Together with these standeth by the companions of death;
death and hell, death and devils, death and endless torment in the
everlasting flames of devouring fire. " When God shall come up
unto the people, He will invade them with His troops."
But how will this man die? Can his heart now endure, or can
his hands be strong?
1. God, and Christ, and pity, have left him. Sin against light,
against mercy, and the long-suffering of God, is come up against
him; his hope and confidence are now dying by him, and his con
science totters and shakes continually within him.




236                  JOHN BUNYAN.
2. Death is at work, cutting him down; hewing both bark and
heart, both body and soul asunder. The man groans, but Death hears
him not; he looks ghastly, carefully, dejectedly; he sighs, he sweats,
he trembles-Death matters nothing.
8. Fearful cogitations haunt him; misgivings, direful apprehensions of God terrify him. Now he hath time to think what the loss
)f heaven will be, and what the torments of hell will be; now he
looks no way but he is frighted.
4. Now would he live, but may not; he would live though it
were but the life of a bed-rid man, but must not. He that cuts him
down, sways him, as the feller of woods sways the tottering tree;
now this way, then that; at last a root breaks, a heart-string, an eye.
string snaps asunder I
5. And now, could the soul be annihilated, or brought to nothing,
how happy would it count itself  But it sees that may not be.
Wherefore it is put to a wonderful strait. Stay in the body it may
not; go out of the body it dares notl Life is going; the blood
settles in the flesh, and the lungs being no more able to draw breath
through the nostrils, at last out goes the weary trembling soul, and
is immediately seized by devils, who lie lurking in every hole in
the chamber for that very purpose. His friends take care of the
body, and wrap it up in the sheet or coffin; but the soul is out of
their thought and reach, going down to the chambers of death I
I had thought to have enlarged, but I forbear. God, who teaches
man to profit, bless this brief and plain discourse to thy soul, who
yet standest a professor in the land of the living, among the trees
of His garden I Amen.




DISCOURSE EIGHTEENTH.
JOHN HOWE. M.A.
THIa valuable writer, and able divine, was born the same month as
was Charles the Second, viz.: May, 1630, at Loughborough, of which
place his father was minister, but lost his benefice from his attachment
to the Puritans.
The son was sent early to Cambridge, and afterward to Oxford, where
he was elected Fellow of Magdalen College. When preaching at Great
Torrington, he visited London; and Cromwell making his acquaintance,
insisted upon his becoming his chaplain at Whitehall. He reluctantly
consented; and after Cromwell's death continued a few months in the
service of his son Richard, and then returned to his people at Torrington, where he labored till the Act of Uniformity passed, soon after which
he retired, a silenced Non-conformist, and was doomed to imprisonment for
two years in the Isle of St. Nichols. From his release, till removing to
Ireland in 1671,where he acted as chaplain to Lord Masserene, he preached
only occasionally. Upon his return to London, about 1675, he labored
as minister with great success. With some interruptions he preached
in this city to select and appreciative audiences, until his sun went down
in mildness of glory, April 2d, 1705, in the 75th year of his age.
The contemplation of Howe inspires us with the sentiment of the
sublime. He was in all respects a great man; having, as Calamy says,
" a strong head, a warm heart, and a good bodily constitution." His
mind was eminently philosophical, and enriched with immense stores of
learning. At the age of twenty-two he had read a thorough course of
pnilosophy, many of the heathen moralists, the writings of the schoolmen, thoroughly studied the Scriptures, and drawn up a complete body
of divinity. The principal work of Howe is his "Living Temple," a
production distinguished by great erudition and compass of thought,
by metaphysical acumen and glowing eloquence. His works called
" God's Prescience," "Vanity of Man," as mortal, " Redeemer's Tears,"
and the "Blessings of the Righleous," etc., are justly celebrated.
The former is highly commended by R. Hall, who said he had learned
more from Howe than from any other author. (Works, III., 78.) All




238                     JOHN  HOWE.
the writings of this author exhibit much of nice discrimination, elevated
thought, profound reasoning, devout feeling and fervent appeal. His
style is often heavy and involved, not unfrequently harsh and obscure;
and he abounds in the tedious divisions and sub-divisions common in his
age. So that to find his massive unwrought gold, one must labor somewhat; but, nevertheless, it richly repays for the search. Baxter may be
read when the mind is dull; but not so with Howe. The one, dwelling
m the place of thunder, and rushing forth to arouse a sleeping world,
will stir the inmost soul, however indisposed to emotion. The other,
delighting in the contemplative, profound, and elevated, bears a calm,
unruffled aspect, and imparts to the attentive mind his own tranquil
thoughts, and bright visions of God, and the blessed ones in heaven.
The following is from a discourse that is overgrown in size, but full of
tenderness and power of appeal. It was difficult to make the necessary
abridgment; but less so in this than any other discourse of equal merit.
We begin at the second division; the first, things necessary to be known
etc., having been already treated of.
THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS.
" And when He was come near, He beheld the city, and wept over it, saying, If thou
hadst known, even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong to thy peace 1
Jut now they are hid from thine eyes."-LuKE, xix. 41, 42.
Such as live under the Gospel have a day, or a present opportunity, for the obtaining the knowledge of those things immediately
belonging to their peace, and of whatsoever is besides necessary
thereunto. I say nothing what opportunities they have who never
lived under the Gospel, who yet no doubt might generally know
more than they do, and know better what they do know. It suffices
us who enjoy the Gospel to understand our own advantages thereby.
Nor, as co those who do enjoy it, is every one's day of equal clearness. How few, in comparison, have ever seen such a day as Jerusa.
lem at this time did I made by the immediate beams of the Sun of
Righteousness I our Lord Himself vouchsafing to be their Instructor,
so speaking as never man did, and with such authority as far outdid
their other teachers, and astonished the hearers. In what transports
did He use to leave those that heard Him, wheresoever He came,
wondering at the gracious words that came out of His mouth I And
with what mighty and beneficial works was He wont to recommend
His doctrine, shining in the glorious power and savoring of the
abundant mercy of Heaven, so that every apprehensive mind might




THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS. 239
Ree the Deity was incarnate. God was come down to entreat with
men, and allure them into the knowledge and love of Himself. The
Word was made flesh. What unprejudiced mind might not perceive
it to be so? He was there manifested and vailed at once; both expressions are made concerning the same matter. The divine beams
were somewhat obscured, but did yet ray through that vail; so that
His glory was beheld as the glory of the only-begotten Son of His
Father, full of grace and truth. This Sun shone with a mild and
benign, but with a powerful, vivifying light. In Him was life, and
that life was the light of men. Such a light created unto the Jews
this their day. Happy Jews, if they had understood their own happiness! And the days that followed to them (for awhile) and the
Gentile world, were not inferior, in some respects brighter and more
glorious (the more copious gift of the Holy Ghost being reserved
unto the crowning and enthroning of the victorious Redeemer),
when the everlasting Gospel flew like lightning to the uttermost
ends of the earth, and the word which began to be spoken by the
Lord Himself was confirmed by them that heard Him, God also
Himself bearing them witness with signs, and wonders, and gifts of
the Holy Ghost. No such day hath been seen this many an age.
Yet whithersoever this same Gospel, for substance, comes, it also
makes a day of the same kind, and affords always true though diminished light, whereby, however, the things of our peace might be
understood and known. The written Gospel varies not, and if it be
but simply and plainly proposed (though to some it be proposed
with more advantage, to some with less, yet) still we have the same
things immediately relating to our peace extant before our eyes.
* * * * * * But you will say, Shall all then that live under
the Gospel obtain this grace and holy life? Or if they shall not, or
if, so far as can be collected, multitudes do not, or, perhaps, in some
places that enjoy the Gospel, very few do, in comparison of those
that do not, what am I better, when, perhaps, it is far more likely
that I shall perish, notwithstanding, than be saved? In answer to
this, it must be acknowledged that all that live under the Gospel
do not obtain life and saving grace by it. For then there had been
no occasion for this lamentation of our blessed Lord over the perishing inhabitants of Jerusalem, as having lost their day, and that
the things of their peace were now hid from their eyes; and by that
instance it appears too possible that even the generality of a people
living under the Gospel may fall at length into the like forlorn and
hopeless condition. But art thou a man that thou objectest? A
reasonable, understanding creature? Or dost thou use the reason and




240                   JOHN HOWE.
understanding of a man in objecting thus? Didst thou object that
when thine own willful transgression had made thee liable to eternal
death and wrath, peace, and life, and salvation should be imposed
upon thee whether thou wouldst or no, or notwithstanding thy most
willful neglect and contempt of them and all the means of them?
Could it enter into thy mind that a reasonable soul should be
wrought and framed for that high and blessed end, whereof it is
radically capable, as a stock or a stone is for any use it is designed
for, without designing its own end or way to it? Couldst thou think
the Gospel was to bring thee to faith and repentance, whether thou
didst hear it or no? or ever apply thy mind to consider the meaning
of it, and what it did propose and offer to thee? or when thou
mightest easily understand that the grace of God was necessary to
make it effectual to thee, and that it might become His power (or
the instrument of His power) to thy salvation, couldst thou think it
concerned thee not to sue and supplicate to Him for that grace?
when thy life lay upon it, and thy eternal hope? Hast thou lain
weltering at the footstool of the throne of grace in thine own tears
(as thou hast been formerly weltering in thy sins and impurities),
crying for grace to help thee in this time of thy need? And if thou
thinkest this was above thee and without thy compass, hast thou
done all that was within thy compass in order to the obtaining of
grace at God's hands?    *    *    *    *
This day hath its bounds and limits, so that when it is over
and lost with such, the things of their peace are forever hid from
their eyes. And that this day is not infinite and endless, we see in
the present instance. Jerusalem had her day; but that day had its
period, we see it comes to this at last, that now the things of her
peace are hid from her eyes. We generally see the same thing, in
that sinners are so earnestly pressed to make use of the present time.
To-day if you will hear His voice, harden not your hearts. They
are admonished to seek the Lord while Ie may be found, to call
upon Him when He is nigh. It seems some time He will not be
found, and will be afar off. They are told this is the accepted time,
this is the day of salvation.   *    *    *    *    *    *    *
As it is certain death ends the day of grace with every unconverted
person, so it is very possible that it may end with divers before they
die; by their total loss of all external means, or by the departure of
the blessed Spirit ol God from them; so as to return and visit them
no more. How the day of grace may end with a person, is to be
understood by considering what it is that makes up and constitutes
ouch a day. There must become measure and proportion of time to




tHE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS.  241
make up this (or any) day, which is as the substratum and ground
forelaid. Then there must be light superadded, otherwise it differs
not from night, which may have the same measure of mere time.
The Gospel-revelation some way or other, must be had, as being the
light of such a day. And again there must be some degree of live.
liness, and vital influence, the more usual concomitant of light; the
night doth more dispose men to drowsiness. The same sun that
enlightens the world disseminates also an invigorating influence.
If the Spirit of the living God do no way animate the Gospel-revelation, and breathe in it, we have no day of grace. It is not only a
day of light, but a day of power, wherein souls can be wrought upon,
and a people made willing to become the Lord's. As the Redeemer
revealed in the Gospel,'is the light of the world, so He is life to it
too, though neither are planted or do take root every where. In
Him was life and that life was the light of men. That light that
rays from Him is vital light in itself, and in its tendency and design,
though it be disliked and not entertained by the most. Whereas
therefore these things must concur to make up such a day; if either
a man's time, his life on earth, expire, or if light quite fail him, or if
all gracious influence be withheld, so as to be communicated no
more, his day is done, the season of grace is over with him. Now
it is plain that many a one may lose the Gospel before his life end;
and possible that all gracious influence may be restrained, while as
yet the external dispensation of the Gospel remains. A sinner may
have hardened his heart to that degree that God will attempt him
no more, in any kind, with any design of kindness to him, not in
that more inward, immediate way at all, i. e. by the motions of His
Spirit, which peculiarly can impart nothing but friendly inclination,
as whereby men are personally applied unto, so that can not be
meant; nor by the voice of the Gospel, which may either be con.
tinued for the sake of others, or they continued under it, but for their
heavier doom at length. Which, though it may seem severe, is not
to be thought strange, much less unrighteous. It is not to be thought
strange to them that read the Bible, which so often speaks this sense;
as when it warns and threatens men with so much terror. For if
we sin willfully after that we have received the knowledge of the
truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a fearful looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation, which shall devour the
adversaries. He that despised Moses's law, died without mercy,
under two or three witnesses; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy who hath trodden under foot
the Son of God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, where.
16




242                    JOHN HOWE.
with He was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto
the Spirit of grace?  And when it tells us, after many overtures
made to men in vain, of His having given them up. " But My people would not hearken to My voice; and Israel would none of Me;
so I gave them up unto their own hearts' lust: and they walked in
their own counsels;" and pronounces, "Let him that is unjust be
unjust still, and let him which is filthy be filthy still," and says, " In
thy filthiness is lewdness, because I have purged thee, and thou wast
not purged; thou shalt not be purged from thy filthiness any more,
till I have caused My fury to rest upon thee." Which passages seem
to imply a total desertion of them, and retraction of all gracious
influence. And when it speaks of letting them be under the Gospel, and the ordinary means of salvation, for the most direful purpose: as that, " This child (Jesus) was set for the fall, as well as for
the rising, of many in Israel;" as that, "Behold, I lay in Zion a
stumbling, and a rock of offense."  And, "The stone which the
builders refused, is made a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense,
even to them which stumble at the word, being disobedient, where.
unto also they were appointed." With that of our Saviour Himself,
"For judgment I am come into this world, that they which see not
might see; and that they which see, might be made blind." And
most agreeable to those former places is that of the prophet, " But
the word of the Lord was unto them precept upon precept, precept
upon precept, line upon line, line upon line, here a little and there a
little; that they might go, and fall backward, and be broken, and
snared, and taken."  And we may add, that our God hath put us
out of doubt that there is such a sin as that which is eminently called
the sin against the Holy Ghost; that a man in such circumstances,
and to such a degree, sin against that Spirit, that He will never move
or breathe upon them more, but leave them to a hopeless ruin;
though I shall not in this discourse determine or discuss the nature
of it. But I doubt not it is somewhat else than final impenitency
and infidelity; and that every one that dies, not having sincerely
repented and believed, is not guilty of it, though every one that is
guilty of it dies impenitent and unbelieving, but was guilty of it
before; so as it is not the mere want of time that makes him guilty.
Whereupon, therefore, that such may outlive their day of grace, is,ut of question.   *    *    *    *    *    *
Yet we are not to imagine any certain fixed rule, according
-thereto (except in the case of the unpardonable sin) the divine
dispensation is measured in cases of this nature, viz.: That, when a
einner hath contended just so long, or to such a degree, against His




THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS.  248
grace and Spirit in His Gospel, he shall be finally rejected: or if
but so long, or not to such a degree, he is yet certainly to be further
tried or treated with. It is little to be doubted but He puts forth
the power of victorious grace, at length, upon some more obstinate
and obdurate sinners, and that have longer persisted in their rebel.
lions (not having sinned the unpardonable sin), and gives over some
sooner, as it seems good unto Him. Nor doth He herein owe an
account to any man of His matters. Here sovereign good pleasure
rules and arbitrates; that is tied to no certain rule.
Wherefore, no man can certainly know, or ought to conclude,
concerning himself or others, as long as they live, that the season
of grace is quite over with them. As we can conceive no rule God
hath set to Himself to proceed by, in ordinary cases of this nature;
so nor is there any He hath set unto us to judge by, in this case. It
were to no purpose, and could be of no use to men to know so
much; therefore it were unreasonable to expect God should have
settled and declared any rule, by which they might come to the
knowledge of it. As the case is then, viz.: there being no such rule,
no such thing can be concluded; for who can tell what an arbitrary,
sovereign, free agent will do, if he declare not his own purpose
himself? How should it be known, when the Spirit of God hath
been often working upon the soul of man, that this or that shall be
the last act, and that he will never put forth another? And why
should God make it known? To the person himself whose case it
is,'tis manifest it could be of no benefit. Nor is it to be thought
the Holy God will ever so alter the course of His own proceedings but
that it shall be finally seen to all the world that every man's destruction was, entirely, and to the last, of himself. If God had
made it evident to a man that he were finally rejected, he were
obliged to believe it. But shall it ever be said, God hath made any
thing a man's duty which were inconsistent with his felicity. The
having sinned himself into such a condition wherein he is forsaken
of God, is indeed inconsistent with it. And so the case is to stand,
i. e., that his perdition be in immediate connection with his sin, not
with his duty. As it would be in immediate, necessary connection
with his duty, if he were bound to believe himself finally forsaken
and a lost creature. For that belief makes him hopeless, and a very
devil, justifies his unbelief of the Gospel, toward himself, by remov
ing and shutting up, toward himself, the object of such a faith, and
consequently brings the matter to this state that he perishes, not
because he doth not believe God reconcilable to man, but because,




244                   JOHN HOWE.
with particular application to himself, he ought not so to believe. And
it were most unfit, and of very pernicious consequence, that such a
thing should be generally known concerning others. It were to anticipate the final judgment, to create a hell on earth, to tempt them
whose doom were already known, to do all the mischief in the world
which malice and despair can suggest, and prompt them unto; it
were to mingle devils with men I and fill the world with confusion l
How should parents know how to behave themselves toward children, a husband to the wife of his bosom, in such a case, if it were
known they were no more to counsel, exhort, admonish them, pray
with or for them, than if they were devils! And if there were
such a rule, how frequent misapplications would the fallible and distempered minds of men make of itl so that they would be apt to
fancy themselves warranted to judge severely, or uncharitably, and
(as the truth of the case perhaps is) unjustly concerning others, from
which they are so hardly withheld, when they have no such pretense to embolden them to it, but are so strictly forbidden it; and
the judgment-seat so fenced, as it is, by the most awful interdicts,
against their usurpations and encroachments. We are, therefore, to
reverence the wisdom of the Divine government, that things of
this nature are among the arcana of it; some of these secrets which
belong not to us. He hath revealed what was fit and necessary fot
us and our children, and envies to man no useful knowledge.
But though none ought to conclude that their day or season of
grace is quite expired, yet they ought to deeply apprehend the dan.
ger, lest it should expire before their necessary work be done, and
their peace made. For though it can be of no use to them to know
the former, and therefore they have no means appointed them by
which to know it,'tis of great use to apprehend the latter; and they
have sufficient ground for the apprehension. All the cautions and
warnings wherewith the Holy Spirit abounds, of the kind with those
already mentioned, have that manifest design. And nothing can be
more important, or opposite to this purpose, than fnat solemn charge
of the great Apostle: "Work out your own salvation with fear
and trembling;" considered together with the subjoined ground of
it; " For it is God that worketh in you to will and to do of His own
good pleasure." How correspondent is the one with the other; work,
for He works: there were no working at all to any purpose, or with
any hope, if He did not work. And work with fear and trembling,
for He works of His own good pleasure, q. d., "'T were the greatest
folly imaginable to trifle with One that works at so perfect liberty,




THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS.  245
under no obligation, that may desist when He will; to impose upon
so absolutely sovereign and arbitrary an Agent, that owes you nothing; and from whose former gracious operations not complied with,
you can draw no argument, unto any following ones, that because
He doth, therefore He will. As there is no certain connection be.
tween present time and future, but all time is made up of unde.
pending, not strictly coherent, moments, so as no man can be sure,
because one now exists, another shall; there is also no more certain
connection between the arbitrary acts of a free agent within such
time: so that I can not be sure, because He now darts in light upon
me, is now convincing me, now awakening me, therefore He will still
do so, again and again." Upon this ground then, what exhortation
could be more proper than this? " Work out your salvation with
fear and trembling." What could be more awfully monitory, and
enforcing of it, than that He works only of mere good will and
pleasure? How should I tremble to think, if I should be negligent,
or undutiful, He may give out the next moment, may let the work
fall, and me perish? And there is more especial cause for such
an apprehension, upon the concurrence of such things as these:
1. If the workings of God's Spirit upon the soul of a man have
been more than ordinarily strong and urgent, and do now cease: if
there have been more powerful convictions, deeper humiliations,
more awakened fears, more formed purposes of a new life, more fervent desires that are now all vanished and fled, and the sinner returns
to his old, and dead, and dull temper.
2. If there be no disposition to reflect and consider the difference,
no sense of his loss, but he apprehends such workings of spirit in
him unnecessary troubles to him, and thinks it well he is delivered
and eased of them.
3. If in the time when he was under such workings of the Spirit,
he had made known his case to his minister, or any godly friend,
whose company he now shuns, as not willing to be put in mind, or
hear any more of such matters.
4. If, hereupon he bath more indulged sensual inclination, taken
more liberty, gone against.the check of his own conscience, broken
former good resolutions, involved himself in the guilt of any grosser
sins.
5. If conscience, so baffled, be now silent, lets him alone, grows
more sluggish and weaker, which it must as his lusts grow stronger.
6. If the same lively, powerful ministry which before affected
him much, now moves him not.
7. If especially he is grown into a dislike of such preaching —if




240                    JOHN HOWE.
serious godliness, and what tends to it, are become distasteful tc
him-if discourses of God, and of Christ, of death and judgments
and of a holy life, are reckoned superfluous and neealess, are unsavory and disrelished-if he have learned to put disgraceful nanes
upon things of this import, and the persons that most value them
and live accordingly-if he hath taken the seat of the scorner, and
makes it his business to deride what he had once a reverence for, or
took some complacency in.
8. If, upon all this, God withdraw such a ministry, so that he is
now warned and admonished, exhorted and striven with, as formerly,
no more. 0, the fearful danger of that man's case! Hath he no
cause to fear lest the things of his peace should be forever hid from
his eyes? Surely he hath much cause of fear, but not of despair.
Fear in this case would be his great duty, and might yet prove the
means of saving him-despair would be his very heinous and destroying sin. If yet he would be stirred up to consider his case, whence
he is fallen, and whither he is falling, and set himself to serious seekings of God, cast down himself before Him, abase himself, cry for
mercy as for his life, there is yet hope in his case. God may make
here an instance what He can obtain of Himself to do for a perishing
wretch I But,
If with any that have lived under the Gospel, their day is
quite expired, and the things of their peace now forever hid from
their eyes, this is in itself a most deplorable case, and much lamented
by our Lord Jesus Himself. That the case is in itself most deplorable, who sees not?  A soul lost! a creature capable of God I upon
its way to Him! near to the kingdom of God I shipwrecked in the
port I 0, sinner, from how high a hope art thou fallen! into what
depths of misery and woe! And that it was lamented by our Lord
is in the text. He beheld the city (very generally, we have reason
to apprehend, inhabited by such wretched creatures) and wept over
it. This was a very affectionate lamentation. We lament often,
very heartily, many a sad case for which we do not shed tears. But
tears, such tears, falling from such eyes I the issues of the purest and
best-governed passion that ever was, showed the true greatness of
the cause. Here could be no exorbitancy or unjust excess, nothing
more than was proportional to the occasion. There needs no other
proof that this is a sad case than that our Lord lamented it with
tears, which that He did we are plainly told, so that touching that,
there is no place for doubt. All that is liable to question is, whether
we are to conceive in Him and like resentments of such cases, in His
present glorified state?  Indeed, we can not think heaven a place or




THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS. 247
state of sadness or lamentation, and must take heed of conceiving
any thing there, especially on the throne of glory, unsuitable to the
most perfect nature, and the most glorious state. We are not to
imagine tears there, which, in that happy region are wiped away
from inferior eyes-no grief, sorrow, or sighing, which are all fled
away, and shall be no more, as there can be no other turbid passion of
any kind. But when expressions that import anger, or grief are used,
even concerning God Himself, we must sever in our conception
every thing of imperfection, and ascribe every thing of real perfection. W'e are not to think such expressions signify nothing, that
they have no meaning, or that nothing at all is to be attributed to
Him under them. Nor are we again to think they signify the same
thing with what we find in ourselves, and are wont to express by
those names. In the Divine nature there may be real, and yet most
serene, complacency and displacency, viz., that, unaccompanied by
the least commotion, and impart nothing of imperfection, but perfection rather, as it is a perfection to apprehend things suitably to what
in themselves they are. The Holy Scriptures frequently speak of
God as angry, and grieved for the sins of men, and their miseries
which ensue therefrom. And a real aversion and dislike is signified
thereby, and by many other expressions, which in us would signify
vehement agitations of affection, that we are sure can have no place
in Him. We ought, therefore, in our own thoughts to ascribe to
Him that calm aversion of will, in reference to the sins and miseries
of men in general; and, in our own apprehensions to remove to the
utmost distance from Him all such agitations of passion or affection,
even though some expressions that occur carry a great appearance
thereof, should they be understood according to human measures, as
they are human forms of speech. As, to instance in what is said by
the glorious God Himself, and very near in sense to what we have
in the text, what can be more pathetic than that lamenting wish,
"0  that My people had hearkened unto Me, and Israel had walked
in My ways 1" But we must take heed lest, under the pretense that
we can not ascribe every thing to God that such expressions seem
to import, we therefore ascribe nothing. We ascribe nothing, if
we do not ascribe a real unwillingness that men should sin on, and
perish, and consequently a real willingness that they should turn
to Him, and live, which so many plain texts assert. And therefore
it is unavoidably imposed upon us to believe that God is truly unwilling of some things which He doth not think fit to interpose His
omnipotency to hinder, and is truly willing of some things which He
doth not put forth His omnipotency to effect.   *    *    *    *




248                    JOHN HOWE.
We can not, therefore, doubt but that,
1. He distinctly comprehends the truth of any such case. lh
beholds, from the throne of His glory above, all the treaties which
are held and managed with sinners in His name, and what their deportments are therein. His eyes are as a flame of fire, wherewith
He searcheth hearts and trieth reins. He hath seen therefore, sinner, all along, every time an offer of grace hath been made to thee,
and been rejected; when thou hast slighted counsels and warnings
that have been given thee, exhortations and treaties that have been
pressed upon thee for many years together, and how thou hast hardened thy heart against reproofs and threatenings, against promises
and allurements, and beholds the tendency of all this, what is like
to come of it, and that, if thou persist, it will be bitterness in the
end.
2. That He hath a real dislike of the sinfulness of thy course. It
is not indifferent to Him whether thou obeyest or disobeyest the
Gospel, whether thou turn and repent or no; that He is truly displeased at thy trifling, sloth, negligence, impenitency, hardness of
heart, stubborn obstinacy, and contempt of His grace, and takes
real offense at them.
3. He hath real kind propensions toward thee, and is ready to
receive thy returning soul, and effectually to mediate with the offended Majesty of Heaven for thee, as long as there is any hope in
thy case.
4. When He sees there is no hope, He pities thee, while thou
seest it not, and dost not pity thyself. Pity and mercy above are
not names only;'tis a great reality that is signified by them, and
that hath place here in far higher excellency and perfection than it
can with us poor mortals here below. Ours is but borrowed and
participated from that first fountain and original above. Thou dost
not perish unlamented even with the purest heavenly pity, though
thou hast made thy case incapable of remedy. As the well-tempered judge bewails the sad end of the malefactor, whom justice
obliges him not to spare or save.    *    *    *    *    *
And that thou mayest not throw away thy soul and so great a
hope, through mere sloth and loathness to be at some pains for thy
life, let the text, which hath been thy directory about the things
that belong to thy peace, be also thy motive, as it gives thee to
behold the Son of God weeping over such as would not know those
things. Shall not the Redeemer's tears move thee? 0 hard heart I
Consider what these tears import to this purpose.
1. They signify the real depth and greatness of the misery into




THE REDEEMER'S TEARS OVER LOST SOULS. 249
which thou art falling. They drop from an intellectual and most
comprehensive eye, that sees far and pierces deep into things, hath
a wide and large prospect; takes the comfort of that forlorn state
into which unreconcilable sinners are hastening, in all the horror
of it. The Son of God did not weep vain and causeless tears, or
for a light matter; nor did He for Himself either spend His own or
desire the profusion of others' tears. " Weep not for Me, O daughters of Jerusalem," etc. He knows the value of souls, the weight
of guilt, and how low it will press and sink them; the severity of
God's justice and the power of His anger, and what the fearful
effects of them will be when they finally fall. If thou understandest
not these things thyself; believe Him that did at least believe His
tears.
2. They signify the sincerity of His love and pity, the truth and
tenderness of His compassion. Canst thou think His deceitful tears?
His, who never knew guile? Was this like the rest of his course?
And remember that He who shed tears did, from the same fountain
of love and mercy, shed blood too I Was that also done to deceive?
Thou makest thyself a very considerable thing indeed, if thou
thinkest the Son of God counted it worth His while to weep, and
bleed, and die, to deceive thee into a false esteem of Him and His
love. But if it be the greatest madness imaginable to entertain any
such thought but that His tears were sincere and unartificial, the
natural, genuine expression of undissembled benignity and pity,
thou art then to consider what love and compassion thou art now
sinning against; what bowels thou spurnest; and that if thou per.
ishest,'tis under such guilt as the devils themselves are not liable
to, who never had a Redeemer bleeding for them, nor, that we ever
find, weeping over them.
3. They show the remedilessness of thy case if thou persist in
impenitency and unbelief till the things of thy peace be quite hid
from thine eyes. These tears will then be the last issues of (even
defeated) love, of love that is frustrated of its kind design. Thou
mayest perceive in these tears the steady, unalterable laws of
Heaven, the inflexibleness of the Divine justice, that holds thee in
adamantine bonds, and hath sealed thee up, if thou prove incurably
obstinate and impenitent, unto perdition; so that even the Redeemer
Himself, He that is mighty to save, can not at length save thee, but
only weep over thee, drop tears into thy flame, which assuage it
not; but (though they have another design, even to express true
compassion) do yet unavoidably heighten and increase the fervor
of e. and will do so to all eternity. He even tells thee, sinner,




250                   JOHN  rOWE.
"Thou hast despised My blood; thou shalt yet have My tears."
That would have saved thee, these do only lament thee lost. But
the tears wept over others, as lost and past hope, why should they
not yet melt thee, while as yet there is hope in thy case? If thou
be effectually melted in thy very soul, and looking to Him whom
thou hast pierced, dost truly mourn over Him, thou mayest assure
thyself the prospect His weeping eye had of lost souls did not in.
elude thee. His weeping over thee would argue thy case forlorn
and hopeless; thy mourning over Him will make it safe and happy.
That it may be so, consider, further, that
4. They signify how very intent He is to save souls, and how
gladly He would save thine, if yet thou wilt accept of.mercy while
it may be had. For if He weep over them that will not be saved,
from the same love that is the spring of these tears, would saving
mercies proceed to those that are become willing to receive them.
And that love that wept over them that were lost, how will it glory
in them that are saved! There His love is disappointed and vexed,
crossed in its gracious intendment; but here, having compassed it,
how will He joy over thee with singing, and rest in his love! And
thou also, instead of being involved in a like ruin with the unreconciled sinners of old Jerusalem, shalt be enrolled among the glo.
rious citizens of the new, and triumph together with them in glory




DISC OUR SE NINETEENTH.
JOHN TI.LLOTSON, D.D.
THIs eminent prelate was born at Sowerby, Yorkshire, in the year
1630, a few months after the birth of Howe, and educated at Cambridge.
Between the years 1662 and 1669, he was, successively, Curate of Chestnut, Rector of Keddington, preacher at Lincoln's Inn, and lecturer at
St. Lawrence, Jewry. A year later he was made a prebendary, and two
years afterward Dean of Canterbury; of which he became archbishop
in 1691. He died in 1694, leaving his family to inherit only the copy.
right of his posthumous sermons, which sold for two thousand five hundred guineas.
Tillotson came upon the stage when the period of original genius and
profound learning was passing away, to be succeeded by the age of taste.
Hence his popularity, and the favor with which his productions were
received, are easily accounted for, since he consulted reason, and virtually
allied himself to the school of rational and moral divines which had of
late sprung up. The negative character of his writings won the admiration of the "wits" of the age of Anne, and he came to be regarded as
the preacher and writer worthy of universal imitation. There are many
who rank Tillotson's sermons (generally published in ten volumes) among
the greatest English classics, and endorse the opinion of the " Edinburg
Review," that this divine is, perhaps, "the justest model for pulpit eloquence." It is needless to say that they possess great merit. Addison
considered the works of Tillotson as the chief standard of our language;
and Dryden " attributed his accurate knowledge of prose writing to their
frequent perusal."  Doddridge commends "his method as admirably
clear-beyond almost any other man." In Tillotson are vast stores of
thought and argument, for he rendered most important service to the
cause of truth, in his efforts against popery and infidelity. There are
few more powerful apologetic treatises than may be found in his sermons.
His style, also, is invariably perspicuous, his thread of reasoning generally
clear, and his choice selection of words admirable.
But it is too much to say, with Bishop Burnet, that Tillotson was
" not only the best preacher of the age, but seemed to have brought




252                   JOHN  TILLOTSON.
preaching to perfection." Many of his sermons are but a kind of translation from Barrow; and as to his style, while lucid, it is nevertheless
often flat, and not distinguished for either strength or harmony. His
figures are cool and protracted, there is little of the pathetic and noth.
ing of the glow of oratorical passion. In a word, he is to be read espe.
cially for fine specimens of didactic preaching, but not to be taken as a
model; certainly not in this age, when we can illy afford to dispense
with earnestness, fervor and pungency, for the elegant and precise.
THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION.
" Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should raise the
dead?"-ACTS, xxvi 8.
The resurrection of the dead is one of the great articles of the
Christian faith; and yet so it hath happened that this great article
of our religion hath been made one of the chief objections against
it. There is nothing that Christianity hath been more upbraided
withal, both by the heathens of old, and by the infidels of later times,
than the impossibility of this article. So that it is a matter of great
consideration and consequence to vindicate our religion in this particular.  For if the thing be evidently impossible, then it is highly
unreasonable to propose it to the belief of mankind.
I know that some, more devout than wise, and who, it is to be
hoped, mean better than they understand, make nothing of impossibilities in matters of faith, and would fain persuade us that the more
impossible any thing is, for that very reason it is the fitter to be
believed; and that it is an argument of a poor, and low faith to
believe only things that are possible; but a generous and heroical
faith will swallow contradictions with as much ease as reason assents
to the plainest and most evident propositions. Tertullian, in the heat
of his zeal and eloquence, upon this point of the death and resurrection of Christ, lets fall a very odd passage, and which must have
many grains of allowance to make it tolerable: "prorsus credibile
est (saith he) quia ineptum  est; certum  est, quia impossible-it is
therefore very credible, because it is foolish, and certain, because it
is impossible;" " and this (says he) is necessarium  dedecus fidei,';
that is, "it is necessary the Christain faith should be thus dis.
graced by the belief of impossibilities and contradictions." I sup.
pose he means that this article of the resurrection was not in itself
the less credible because the heathen philosophers caviled at it as a




THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION. 253
thing impossible and contradictions, and endeavored to disgrace the
Christian religion upon that account. For had he meant otherwise,
that the thing was therefore credible because it was really and in
itself foolish and impossible; this had been to recommend the Chris.
tian religion from the absurdity of the things to be believed; which
would be a strange recommendation of any religion to the sober and
reasonable part of mankind.
I know not what some men may find in themselves; but I must
freely acknowledge that I could never yet attain to that bold and
hardy degree of faith as to believe any thing for this reason, because it was impossible: for this would be to believe a thing to be
because I am sure it can not be. So that I am very far from being
of his mind, that wanted not only more difficulties, but even impossibilities in the Christian religion, to exercise his faith upon.
It is true indeed, Abraham, when he was offering up his son
Isaac, is said, against hope to have believed in hope; but he did not
believe against a plain impossibility: for the Apostle to the Hebrews expressly tells us that he reasoned that God was able to
raise him from the dead. But had he believed this impossible, he:ould not have reconciled the command of God with his promise;
the command to sacrifice Isaac, with the promise which He had made
before, that in His seed (which was Isaac) all the nations of the earth
should be blessed. So that though God was pleased to try his faith
with a great difficulty, yet with no impossibility.
I premise all this to satisfy men how necessary it is to vindicate
the Christian religion from this objection of the impossibility of any
of its articles. And whatever Tertullian might say in a rhetorical
rant, it is very plain that the ancient Fathers did not think the resurrection to be a thing impossible; for then they would never have
attempted, as they very frequently do, to have answered the objeotions of the heathens against it, from the pretended impossibility
of it.
To be sure St. Paul did not think the resurrection of the dead a
thing impossible, for then he would never have asked that question,
why should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God
should raise the dead? Nothing being so likely to be thought in
credible and upon so good reason as that which is impossible.
Leaving, therefore, to the Church of Rome that fool-hardiness
of faith, to believe things to be true which at the same time their
reason plainly tells them are impossible, I shall at this time endeavor
to assert and vindicate this article of the resurrection, from the pretended impossibility of it. And I hope, by God's assistance, to




254                 JOHN TILLOTSON.
make the possibility of the thing so plain as to leave no considerable scruple about it, in any free and unprejudiced mind. And
this I shall do from these words of St. Paul, which are part of the
defense which he made for himself before Festus and Agrippa; the
substance whereof is this, that he had lived a blameless and inoffensive life among the Jews, in whose religion he had been bred up;
that he was of the strictest sect of that religion, a Pharisee, which,
in opposition to the Sadducees, maintained the resurrection of the
dead, and a future state of rewards and punishments in another life;
and that for the hope of this he was called in question, and accused
by the Jews. " And now I stand here, and am judged, for the hope
of the promise made unto the fathers; unto which promise our
twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope to come;
for which hope' sake, King Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews."
That is, he was accused for preaching that Jesus was risen from the
dead, which is a particular instance of the general doctrine of the
resurrection which was entertained by the greatest part of the Jews,
and which to the natural reason of mankind (however the heathen
in opposition to the Christian religion were prejudiced against it)
hath nothing in it that is incredible. And for this he appeals to his
judges, Festus and Agrippa: "why should it be thought a thing
incredible with you that God should raise the dead?"
Which words being a question without an answer, imply in them
these two propositions:
First, That it was thought by some a thing incredible that the dead
should be raised. This is supposed in the question, as the foundation of it: for he who asks why a thing is so, supposeth it to be so.
Secondly, That this apprehension, that it is a thing incredible
that God should raise the dead, is very unreasonable. For the
question being left unanswered, implies its own answer, and is to be
resolved into this affirmative, that there is no reason why they or
any man else should think it a thing incredible that God should
raise the dead.
I shall speak to these two propositions, as briefly as I can; and
then show what influence this doctrine of the resurrection ought to
have upon our lives.
First, That it was thought by some a thing incredible that God
should raise the dead. This St. Paul had reason to suppose, having
from his own experience found men so averse from the entertaining
of this doctrine. When he preached to the philosophers at Athens,
and declared to them the resurrection of one Jesus from the dead,
they were amazed at this new doctrine, and knew not what he




THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION. 255
meant by it. " They said, he seemeth to be a setter forth of strange
gods, because he preached unto them Jesus and the resurrection."
He had discoursed to them of the resurrection of one Jesus from the
dead; but this business of the resurrection was a thing so remote
from their apprehensions that they had no manner of conception
of it; but understood him quite in another sense, as if he had declared to them two new deities, Jesus and Anastasis; as if he had
brought a new god and a new goddess among them, Jesus and the resurrection. And when he discoursed to them again more fully of this
matter, it is said, that "a when they heard of the resurrection of the
dead, they mocked." And at the twenty-fourth verse of this twentysixth chapter, when he spake of the resurrection, Festus told him he
would hear him no further, and that he looked upon him as a man
beside himself, whom much learhing had made mad. Festus looked
upon this business of the resurrection as the wild speculation of a
crazy head. And indeed the heathens generally, even those who
believed the immortality of the soul, and another state after this
life, looked upon the resurrection of the body as a thing impossible. Pliny, I remember, reckons it among those things which are
impossible, and which God Himself can not do; "revocare defunctos, to call back the dead to life:" and in the primitive times, the
heathen philosophers very much derided the Christians, upon ao
count of this strange doctrine of the resurrection, looking always
upon this article of their faith as a ridiculous and impossible assertion.
So easy is it for prejudice to blind the minds of men, and to
represent every thing to them, which hath a great appearance of
difficulty in it, as impossible. But I shall endeavor to show that if
the matter be thoroughly examined, there is no ground for any such
apprehension. I proceed therefore to the
Second proposition; namely, that this apprehension, that it is an
incredible thing that God should raise the dead, is very unreasonable: "why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that
God should raise the dead?"  That is, there is no sufficient reason
why any man should look upon the resurrection of the dead as a
thing impossible to the power of God; the only reason why they
thought it incredible being because they judged it impossible; so
that nothing can be vainer than for men to pretend to believe the
resurrection; and yet at the same time to grant it to be a thing in
reason impossible, because no man can believe that which he thinks
to be incredible; and the impossibility of a thing is the best reason
any man can have to think a thing incredible.' So that the mean



256                JOHN TILLOTSON.
ing of St. Paul's question is, "why should it be thought a thing im
possible, that God should raise the dead?"
To come then to the business: I shall endeavor to show that
there is no sufficient reason why men should look upon the resur.
rection of the dead, as a thing impossible to God. "Why should it
be thought a thing incredible (that is, impossible) with you, that
God should raise the dead?" which question implies in it these three
things:
1. That it is above the power of nature to raise the dead.
2. But it is not above the power of God to raise the dead. And,
3. That God should be able to do this is by no means incredible
to natural reason.
1st. This question implies that it is above the power of nature
to raise the dead; and therefore the Apostle puts the question very
cautiously, "why should it be thought incredible, that God should
raise the dead?" by which he seems to grant that it is impossible to
any natural power to raise the dead; which is granted on all hands
2dly. But this question does plainly imply that it is not above
the power of God to do this. Though the raising of the dead to
life be a thing above the power of nature, yet why should it be
thought incredible that God, who is the author of nature, should be
able to do this? and indeed the Apostle's putting the question in
this manner takes away the main ground of this objection against
the resurrection from the impossibility of the thing. For the main
reason why it was looked upon as impossible was, because it was
contrary to the course of nature that there should be any return
from a perfect privation to a habit, and that a body perfectly dead
should be restored to life again: but for all this no man that believes
a God who made the world, and this natural frame of things, but
must think it very reasonable to believe that He can do things far
above the power of any thing that He hath made.
Mdly. This question implies that it is not a thing incredible to
natural reason that God should be able to raise the dead. I do not
say that by natural light we can discover that God will raise the
dead; for that, depending merely upon the will of God, can no
otherwise be certainly known than by divine revelation: but that
God can do this is not at all incredible to natural reason. And this
is sufficiently implied in the question which St. Paul asks; in which
he appeals to Festus and Agrippa, neither of them Christians, " why
should it be thought a thing incredible with you that God should
raise the dead?" And why should he appeal to them concerning the
credibility of this matter if it be a thing incredible to natural reason?




THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION. 257
That it is not, I shall first endeavor to prove, and then to answer
the chief objections against the possibility of it.
And I prove it thus: it is not incredible to natural reason that
God made the world, and all the creatures in it; that mankind is
His offspring; and that He gives us life and breath, and all things.
This was acknowledged and firmly believed by many of the heathens.
And indeed, whoever believes that the being of God may be known
by natural light, must grant that it may be known by the natural
light of reason that God made the world; because one of the chief
arguments of the being of God is taken from those visible effects
of wisdom, and power, and goodness, which we see in the frame of
the world. Now He that can do the greater can undoubtedly do
the less; He that made all things of nothing, can much more raise a
body out of dust; He who at first gave life to so many inanimate
beings, can easily restore that which is dead to life again. It is an
excellent saying of one of the Jewish rabbis: that He who made
that which was not, to be, can certainly make that which was once,
to be again. This hath the force of a demonstration; for no man
that believes that God hath done the one, can make any doubt but
that he can, if He please, do the other.
This seems to be so very clear, that they must be strong objeo@
tions indeed, that can render it incredible.
There are but two that I know of, that are of any consideration,
and I shall not be afraid to represent them to you with their utmost
advantage; and they are these:
First, against the resurrection in general: it is pretended impossible, after the bodies of men are resolved into dust, to re-collect all
the dispersed parts, and bring them together, to be united into one
body.
The second is leveled against the resurrection in some particular
instances, and pretends it to be impossible in some cases only, viz.,
when that which was the matter of one man's body does afterward
become the matter of another man's body; in which case, say they,
it is impossible that both these should, at the resurrection, each have
their own body.
The difficulty of both these objections is perfectly avoided by
those who hold that it is not necessary that our bodies at the resur.
rection should consist' of the very same parts of matter that they
did before. There being no such great difference between one parcel
of dust and another; neither in respect of the power of God, which
can as easily command this parcel of dust as that to become a living
body, and being united to a living soul to rise up and walk; so that
17




258                 JOHN TILLOTSON
the miracle if the resurrection will be all one in the main, whether
our bodies oe made of the very same matter they were before, or not;
nor will there be any difference as to us; for whatever matter our
bodies be made of, when they are once reunited to our souls, they
will be then as much our own as if they had been made of the very
same matter of which they consisted before. Beside that, the change
which the resurrection will make in our bodies, will be so great that
we could not know them to be the same, though they were so.
Now upon this supposition, which seems philosophical enough,
the force of both these objections is wholly declined. But there is
no need to fly to this refuge; and therefore I will take this article
of the resurrection in the strictest sense for the raising of a body to
life, consisting of the same individual matter that it did before; and
in this sense, I think, it has generally been received by Christians,
not without ground, from Scripture. I will only mention one text,
which seems very strongly to imply it; " and the sea gave up the
dead which were in it; and death and the grave delivered up the
dead which were in them; and they were judged every man according to his works."' Now why should the sea and the grave be
said to deliver up their dead, if there were not a resurrection of
the same body; for any dust formed into a living body and united
so the soul, would serve the turn? We will therefore take it for
granted that the very same body will be raised, and I doubt not,
even in this sense, to vindicate the possibility of the resurrection
f.om both these objections.
First, against the resurrection in general of the same body; it is
p retended impossible, after the bodies of men are moldered into dust,
anid by infinite accidents have been scattered up and down the world,
awid have undergone a thousand changes, to re-collect and rally together the very same parts of which they consisted before. This
the heathens used to object to the primitive Christians; for which
reason they also used to burn the bodies of the martyrs, and to scatter
th'.ir ashes in the air, to be blown about by the wind, in derision of
their hopes of a resurrection.
I know not how strong malice might make this objection to appear; but surely in reason it is very weak; for it wholly depends
upen a gross mistake of the nature of God and his providence, as if
it did not extend to the smallest things; as if God did not know all
things that He hath made, and had them not always in His view, and
perfectly under His command; and as if it were a trouble and burden
to infinite knowledge and power to understand and order the least
things; whereas infinite knowledge and power can know and manage




TEil  REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION. 259
all things with as much ease as we can understand and order any
one thing.
So that this objection is grounded upon a low and false apprehension of the Divine nature, and is only fit for Epicurus and his
herd, who fancied to themselves a sort of slothful and unthinking
deities, whose happiness consisted in their laziness, and a privilege
to do nothing. I proceed therefore to the
Second objection, which is more close and pressing; and this is
leveled against the resurrection in some particular instances. I will
mention but two, by which all the rest may be measured and answered.
One is, of those who are drowned in the sea, and their bodies
eaten up by fishes, and turned into their nourishment: and those
fishes perhaps eaten afterward by men, and converted into the substance of their bodies.
The other is of the cannibals; some of whom, as credible relations tell us, have lived wholly or chiefly on the flesh of men; and
consequently the whole, or the greatest part of the substance of their
bodies is made of the bodies of other men. In these and the like
cases, wherein one man's body is supposed to be turned into the
substance of another man's body, how should both these at the
resurrection each recover his own body? So that this objection is
like that of the Sadducees to our Saviour, concerning a woman that
had seven husbands: they ask, " whose wife of the seven shall she be
at the resurrection?" So here, when several have had the same body,.
whose shall it be at the resurrection? and how shall they be supplied
that have it not?
This is the objection; and in order to answering of it, I shall
premise these two things:
1. That the body of man is not a constant and permanent thing,
always continuing in the same state, and consisting of the same
matter; but a successive thing, which is continually spending and
continually renewing itself, every day losing something of the matter which it had before, and gaining new; so that most men have
new bodies oftener than they have new clothes; only with this difference, that we change our clothes commonly at once, but our
bodies by degrees.
And this is undeniably certain from experience. For so much
as our bodies grow, so much new matter is added to them, over and
beside the repairing of what is continually spent; and after a man
be come to his full growth, so much of his food as every day turns
into nourishment, so much of his yesterday's body is rually wasted,




260                 JOHN TILLOTSON.
and carried off by insensible perspiration, that is, breathed out a
the pores of his body; which, according to the static experiment of
Sanctorius, a learned physician, who, for several years together,
weighed himself exactly every day, is (as I remember) according to
the proportion of five to eight of all that a man eats and drinks.
Now, according to this proportion, every man must change his body
several times in a year.
It is true indeed, the more solid parts of the body, as the bones,
do not change so often as the fluid and fleshy; but that they also do
change is certain, because they grow, and whatever grows is nourished and spends, because otherwise it would not need to be repaired.
2. The body which a man hath at any time of his life is as much
his own body as that which he hath at his death; so that if the very
matter of his body which a man had at any time of his life be raised,
it is as much his own and the same body as that which he had at
his death, and commonly much more perfect; because they who die
of lingering sickness or old age are usually mere skeletons when
they die; so that there is no reason to suppose that the very matter
of which our bodies consist at the tifae of our death shall be that
which shall be raised, that being commonly the worst and most
imperfect body of all the rest.
These two things being premised, the answer to this objection
can not be difficult. For as to the more solid and firm parts of the
body, as the skull and bones, it is not, I think, pretended that the
cannibals eat them; and if they did, so much of the matter even
of these solid parts wastes away in a few years, as being collected
together would supply them many times over. And as for the
fleshy and fluid parts, these are so very often changed and renewed
that we can allow the cannibals to eat them all up, and to turn
them all into nourishment, and yet no man need contend for want
of a body of his own at the resurrection, viz., any of those bodies
which he had ten or twenty years before; which are every whit as
good and as much his own as that which was eats,.
You will pardon me, I hope, that I have dwelt so long upon so
contentious an argument, when you consider how necessary what I
have said is to the vindication of so great an article of our religion;
and especially in this evil age of unbelief, when greater matters than
this are called in question.
Having thus shown that the resurrection is not a thing incredi.
ble to natural reason, I should now proceed to show the certainty
of it from divine revelation. For as reason tells us it is not impos




THE REASONABLENESS OF A RESURRECTION. 261
sible, so the Word of God hath assured us that it is certain. The
texts of Scripture are so many and clear to this purpose, and so well
known to all Christians, that I will produce none. I shall only tell
you that as it is expressly revealed in the Gospel, so our blessed
Saviour, for the confirmation of our faith and the comfort and encouragement of our hope, hath given us the experiment of it in his
own resurrection, which is "' the earnest and first-fruits of ours." So
St. Paul tells us that "' Christ is risen from the dead, and become the
first-fruits of them that slept." And that Christ did really rise from
the dead, we have as good evidence as for any ancient matter of fact
which we do most firmly believe; and more and greater evidence
than this the thing is not capable of; and because it is not, no reasonable man ought to require it.
Now what remains but to conclude this discourse with those
practical inferences which our Apostle makes from this doctrine of
the resurrection; and I shall mention these two:
The first for our support and comfort under the infirmities and
miseries of this mortal life.
The second for the encouragement of obedience and a good life
1. For our comfort and support under the infirmities and miseries of this mortal state. The consideration of the glorious change
of our bodies at the resurrection of the just can not but be a great
comfort to us, under all bodily pain and sufferings.
One of the greatest burdens of human nature is the frailty ana
infirmity of our bodies, the necessities they are frequently pressed
withal, the manifold diseases they are liable to, and the dangers and
terrors of death, to which they are continually subject and enslaved.
But the time is coming, if we be careful to prepare ourselves for it,
when we shall be clothed with other kind of bodies, free from all
the miseries and inconveniences which flesh and blood is subject to.
For "' these vile bodies shall be changed, and fashioned like to the
glorious body of the Son of God."  When our bodies shall be
raised to a new life, they shall become incorruptible; " for this corruptible shall put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality; and then shall come to pass the saying that is written,
death is swallowed up in victory." When this last enemy is conquered, there shall be no "fleshly lusts" nor brutish passions "to
fight against the soul; no law in our members to war against the
laws of our minds;" no disease to torment us; no danger of death
to amaze and terrify us. Then all the passions and appetites of our
outward man shall be subject to the reason of our minds, and our
bodies shall partake of the immortality of our souls. It is but a




262                 JOHN TILLOTSON.
very little while that our spirits shall be crushed and clogged with
these heavy aud sluggish bodies; at the resurrection they shall be
refined from all dregs of corruption, and become spiritual, and incorruptible, and glorious, and every way suited to the activity and perfection of a glorified soul and the "spirits of just men made perfect."
2. For the encouragement of obedience and a good life. Let
the belief of this great article of our faith have the same influence
upon us which St. Paul tells it had upon him. " I have hope toward God that there shall be a resurrection of the dead, both of
the just and unjust; and herein do I exercise myself always to have
a conscience void of offense toward God and toward man." The
firm belief of a resurrection to another life should make every one
of us very careful how we demean ourselves in this life, and afraid
to do any thing or to neglect any thing that may defeat our hopes
of a blessed immortality, and expose us to the extreme and endless
misery of body and soul in another life.
Particularly, it should be an argument to us, " to glorify God in
our bodies and in our spirits;" and to use the members of the one
and the faculties of the other as "instruments of righteousness unto
holiness." We should reverence ourselves, and take heed not only
how we defile our souls by sinful passions, but how we dishonor our
bodies by sensual and brutish lusts; since God hath designed so
great an honor and happiness for both at the resurrection.
So often as we think of a blessed resurrection to eternal life, and
the happy consequences of it, the thought of so glorious a reward
should make us diligent and unwearied in the service of so good a
Master and so great a Prince, who can and will prefer us to infinitely greater honors than any that are to be had in this world.
This inference the Apostle makes from the doctrine of the resurrec
tion. "Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye steadfast and unmovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord; forasmuch as
ye know that your labor shall not be in vain in the Lord."
Nay, we may begin this blessed state while we are upon earth,
by " setting our hearts and affections upon the things that are above,
and having our conversation in heaven, from whence also we look for
a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile bodies,
that they may be fashioned like unto His glorious body, according
to the working whereby He is able to subdue all things to Himself."
"Now the God of peace, who brought again from the dead our
Lord Jesus Christ, the great Shepherd of the sheep, through the
blood of the everlasting covenant, make us perfect in every good
work to do His will, working in us always that which is pleasing in
His sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever. Amen."




DISCOURSE TWENTIETb
ISAAC BARROW, D.D.
_I hRE "first of English sermon-writers," as Barrow has been styled by
high authority, was born the same year as Howe and Tillotson, 1630,
in London. His idle habits and wayward disposition led his father to
desire that " if it pleased God to take away any one of his children, it
might be his son Isaac." His conduct, however, ultimately changed;
and in 1649, as the fruit of patient application, he was chosen fellow of
Trinity College. At this time he directed his special attention to medicine, natural philosophy, and mathematics, in which he became distinguished. He was, successively, professor in Cambridge and Gresham
Colleges, and of a mathematical lecture, established at Cambridge which
he resigned in favor of his friend, the great Isaac Newton. He then
gave himself to divinity; and in 1672 was appointed Master of Trinity
College and chaplain to the king. But his brilliant career was suddenly
cut short; for in his forty-second year, after a brief illness, he expired.
A marble monument, surmounted by a bust, was erected to his memory
in Westminster Abbey..
Coleridge remarks, that " Barrow must be regarded as closing the
first great period of the English language." When Lord Chatham was
asked the secret of his dignified and eloquent style, he replied, in part,
that he had read some of Barrow's sermons as many as twenty times, and
even learned them by heart. The critics are all agreed as to the superior merit of Barrow as a writer. Doddridge pronounces him the most
laconic writer among the English divines. "Nothing," he adds, "is
more elaborate than his discourses; most of them having been transcribed three times over, and some of them oftener." Says Dr. James
Hamilton, his biographer, of the sermons of Barrow, "he must be singularly fastidious, or singularly dull, who can read them without pleasure; and either perfect in eloquence, or prodigiously incapable of it, who
can read them without advantage."
Barrow had tiaveled extensively, and, among other places, visited
Constantinople where he spent twelve months. Here he fell in with the
works of Chrysostom, the prince of preachers, and read page by page




264                   ISAAC BARROW.
each folio of the great Greek Father. To this circumstance, beymnd
doubt, is attributable, in no small degree, the wondrous wealth of matter,
and fertility of rhetorical illustration, every where met with in reading
Barrow's discourses. Some are far superior to others; and most of them
are wanting in richness of Evangelical doctrine, disappointing the reader
in not evolving more clearly the great elements of the Gospel scheme.
But, throughout, Barrow is a mine of gold and precious stones. He
thoroughly exhausts his subject-some of his sermons requiring hours in
their delivery-and often rises to majestic heights of eloquence, which
thrill with his own passion the soul of the reader. Perhaps no works
extant are more deserving of careful perusal for the purpose of cultivating vigor, pith, nervousness and beauty of style, than those of Isaac
Barrow. The sermon which follows is the second of two on the Death
of Christ. It was the last which he preached, and is pronounced "the
noblest specimen of sacred eloquence which has survived him." He is
here treating of the manner and kind of Christ's death, having in the
first sermon considered some of the " notable adjuncts."  A few particulars in the opening are here omitted.
THE CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST.
"But we preach Christ crucified." —1 COR. i. 23.
I shall now proceed to handle the rest of the particulars which I
proposed in the beginning of the last discourse.
I. We may consider that His suffering was most bitter and pain.
ful. We may easily imagine what acerbity of pain must be endured
by our Lord, in His tender limbs being stretched forth, racked, and
tentered, and continuing a good time in such a posture; by the
"piercing His hands and feet," parts exquisitely sensible, with sharp
nails (so that, as it is said of Joseph, the iron entered into His
soul), by abiding exposed to the injuries of sun scorching, wind
beating upon, weather searching His grievous wounds and sores;
such a pain it was, and that no stupifying, no transient pain, but a
pain very acute, and withal lingering; for we see that He, and those
who suffered with Him, had both presence of mind and time to discourse; even six long hours did He continue under such torture,
sustaining in each minute of them beyond the pangs of an ordinary
death. But as the case was so hard and sad, so the reason thereof
was great, and the fruit answerably excellent; our Saviour did em.
brace such a passion, that in being thus ready to endure the most




THE CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST.                 265,b evous smarts for us, He might demonstrate the vehemence of His
lhve; that He might signify the heinousness of our sins, which
deserved that from such a Person, so heavy punishment should be
exacted; that He might appear to yield a valuable compensation for
those everlasting tortures which we should have endured; that He
might thoroughly exemplify the hardest duties of obedience and
patience. Further,
II. We may consider this sort of punishment as most sharp and
afflictive, so most vile and shameful; being proper to the basest condition of the worst men, and " unworthy (as Lactantius saith) of a
freeman, however innocent or guilty." It was servile supplocium, a
punishment never by the Romans, under whose law our Lord suffered, legally inflicted upon freemen, but only upon slaves, that is,
upon people scarce regarded as men, having in a sort forfeited or lost
themselves; and among the Jews likewise, that execution which
most approached thereto, and in part agreed with it (for they had not
so inhuman punishment appointed by their law), hanging up the
dead bodies of some who had been executed, was deemed most in.
famous and execrable; for, "cursed (said the Law) is every one that
hangeth upon a tree;" cursed, that is, devoted to reproach and malediction; " accursed of God," it is in the Hebrew; that is, seeming to
be deserted by God, or to be exposed to affliction by His special
order.
Indeed, according to course of things, to be raised on high, and
for continuance of time to be objected to the view of all that pass
by, in that calamitous posture, doth breed ill suspicion, doth proyoke censure, doth invite contempt, scorn, and obloquy; doth naturally draw forth language of derision, despite, and detestation,
especially from the inconsiderate, rude, and hard-hearted vulgar;
which commonly doth think, speak, deal with men, according to
event and appearance, whence to be made a gazing stock, or object
of reproach to the multitude, is accounted by the Apostle as an aggravation of the hardships endured by the primitive Christians: and
thus in the highest degree did it happen to our Lord; for we read
that the people did in that condition mock, jeer, and revile Him;
they drew up their noses, they shot out their lips, they shaked tlieir
heads at Him; they let out their wicked and wanton tongues against
Him; verifying that prediction in the Psalm, "II am a reproach of
men, and despised of the people; all they that see Me laugh Me to
scorn; they shoot out the lip, they shake the head, saying, He
trusted in the Lord, that He would deliver him; let Him deliver
Him, seeing He delighted in Him:" in this case the same persons who




266                 ISAAC BARROW
formerly had admired His glorious works, who had been ravished
with His excellent discourses, who had followed and favored Him
so earnestly, who had blessed and magnified Him (" for He," saith St.
Luke, "did teach in their synagogues, being glorified by all"), even
those very men did then behold Him with pitiless scorn and despite;
"the people (saith St. Luke) stood gazing upon Him," in correspondence to that in the prophet, " They look and stare upon Me;" they
looked in a scornful manner, venting contemptuous and spiteful
reproaches, as we see reported in the evangelical histories.
Thus did our Saviour "endure the cross, despising the shame;"
despising the shame, that is, not simply disregarding or disesteem.
ing it as no evil, with a stoical haughtiness, or cynical immodesty;
but not eschewing it, or not valuing it as so great an evil that for
declining it He would neglect the prosecution of His great and glorious designs. There is in man's nature an aversation and abhor
rency from disgraceful abuse no less strong than are the like antip
athies to pain; whence cruel mockings and scourgings we find
coupled together, as ingredients of the sore persecutions sustained
by God's faithful martyrs; and generally men will more readily
embrace, and more contentedly support the latter than the former;
pain not so grievously affecting the lower sense, as being insolently
despised doth grate on the fancy and wound the mind: for the
wounds of infamy do, as the wise man telleth us, "go down into
the innermost parts of the belly," piercing the very hearts of men,
and touching the soul to the quick. We need not, therefore, doubt
but that our Saviour (as a man, endued with human passions and
infirmities) was sensible of this natural evil; and that such indignity
did add somewhat of bitterness and loathsomeness to His cup of
affliction, especially considering that His great charity disposed Him
to grieve, observing men to act so very indecently, so unworthily,
and so unjustly toward Him; yet in consideration of the glory that
would thence accrue to God, of the benefit that would redound to
us, of the joy that was set before Him, when He should see of the
travail of His soul, and be satisfied, He did most willingly undertake
and gladly undergo it: "He became (as the Apostle saith) a curse for
us," or was exposed to malediction and reviling; " He endured the contradiction (or obloquy) of sinful men, He was despised, rejected, and
disesteemed of men;" He in the common apprehensions of men did
seem deserted by God, according to that of the prophet, "We did
esteem Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted;" He did Himself
in a manner seem to concur in that opinion, as by that woeful outcry,
Lama sabacthanil doth appear: so did He become a curse for ns,




THE CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST.                 267
"that (as the Apostle subjoineth) we might be redeemed from the
curse of the Law;" that is, that we might be saved from that exem.
plary punishment due to our transgressions of the Lavw; with the
displeasure of God appearing therein, and the disgrace before men
attending it: He chose thus to:' make Himself of no reputation," as
the Apostle speaketh, being contented to be dealt with as a wretched
slave and wicked miscreant, that we might be exempted not only
from the torment, but also from the ignominy we had deserved;
that we, together with our life, and safety, and liberty, might recover
even that honor which we had forfeited.
But lest any one should be tempted not sufficiently to value
these sufferings of our Lord, as things not so rare but that other
men have tasted the like; or should be ready to compare them with
the sufferings of other, virtuous men, as Celsus did with those of
Anaxarchus and Epictetus; I shall by the by interpose somewhat
observable concerning them. We may then consider, that not only
the infinite excellency of His person, and the perfect innocency of
His life, did enhance the price of His sufferings, but some endowments peculiar to Him, and some circumstances, did increase their
force: He was not only, according to the frame and temper of human nature, sensibly affected with the pain and shame, and all the
rest of the evils apparently waiting on His passion; as God (when
He did insert sense and passion in our nature, ordering objects to
affect them) did intend that we should be, and as other men in like
outward circumstances would have been, but in many respects beyond that ordinary rate; no man, we may suppose, could have felt
such grief from them as He did; no man did ever feel any thing
comparable to what He did endure: it might be truly applied to
Him, " Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like to My sorrow,
which is done unto Me, wherewith the Lord hath afflicted Me in the
day of His fierce anger," as that extraordinary sweating great lumps
of blood may argue; as the terms expressing His affliction do intimate; for, in regard to present evils, His soul is said to have been "exceedingly sorrowful unto death;" He is said " to be in great anguish
and anxiety;" and to be in an agony, or pang; in respect to mischiefs which He foresaw coming on, He is said to be disordered, or
disturbed in spirit, and to be amazed, or dismayed at them; to such
excessive height of passion did the sense of incumbent evils and the
prospect of impendent disasters, the apprehension of His own case
and reflection upon our state, raise Him: and no wonder that such
a burden, the weight of all the sins (the numberless heinous sins and
abominations) which He did appropriate to Himself, that ever have




268                 ISAAC BARROW.
been, or shall be committed by mankind, lying upon His shoulder,
He should feel it heavy, He should seem to crouch and groan under
it: " Innumerable evils (said He in the mystical Psalm) have com.
passed Me about: Mine iniquities have taken hold upon Me, so that
I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of My head:
therefore My heart faileth Me." God's indignation so dreadfully
flaming out against sin might well astonish and terrify Him; to
stand before the mouth of hell belching out fire and brimstone upon
Him, to lie down in the hottest furnace of divine vengeance, to undertake with His heart-blood to quench all the wrath of heaven and
all the flames of hell (as He did in regard to those who will not
rekindle them to themselves), might well in the heart of a man beget inconceivable and inexpressible pressures of anguish; when
such a Father (so infinitely good and kind to. Him, and whom He
so dearly loved) did hide His face from Him, did angrily frown on
Him, how could He otherwise than be sorely troubled? It is not
strange that so hearty a love, so tender a pity, contemplating our
sinfulness and sustaining our wretchedness, should be deeply affected
thereby; any one of those persons who fondly do pretend to, or
vainly glory in, a stupid apathy, or in a stubborn contempt of the
evils incident to our nature and state, would in such a case have
been utterly dejected; the most resolved philosopher would have
been dashed into confuision at the sight, would have been crushed to
despair under the sense of those calamities which assaulted our
Lord. With the greatness of the causes, the goodness of His constitution might also conspire to augment His suffering; for surely,
as His complexion was most pure and delicate, His spirit most vivid
and apprehensive, His affections most pliant and tractable; so accordingly should the impressions upon Him be most sensible, and consequently the pains which He felt both in soul and body most sharp
and afflictive. That we in like cases are not alike affected, that we
do not tremble at the apprehensions of God's displeasure, that we
are not aftrighted with the sense of our sins, that we do not with
sad horror resent our own danger or our misery, doth arise from
that we have very glimmering and faint conceptions of those things,
or that they do not in so clear and lively a manner strike our mind
and fancy (not appearing in their true nature and proper shape, so
heinous and so hideous, as they really in themselves and in their
consequences are), or because that we have but weak persuasions
about them; or because we do but slightly consider them; or from
that our hearts are hard and callous; our affections cold and dull,
so that nothing of this nature (nothing beside gross material affairs)




THE CRUCIFIXION  OF CHRIST.                 269
can easily move or melt them; or for that we have in us small love
to God, and little regard to our own true welfare; for that briefly in
respect to spiritual matters we are neither so wise, so serious, so
sober, nor so good and ingenious in any reasonable measure, as we
ought to be: but our Saviour in all these respects was otherwise
disposed; He most evidently discerned the wrath of God, the grievousness of sin, the wretchedness of man most truly, most fully, most
strongly represented to His imagination and Spirit; He most firmly
believed, yea most certainly knew all that God's law had declared
about them; He thoroughly did consider and weigh them; His
heart was most soft and sensible; His affections were most quick,
and easily excited by their due objects; He was full of dutiful love
to God His Father, and most ardently desirous of our good, bearing
a more than fraternal good-will toward us; whence it is not marvelous that as a man, as a transcendently good man, He was so vehemently affected by those occurrences; that His imagination was so
troubled, and His affections so mightily stirred by them; so that He
thence truly did suffer in a manner and to a degree inconceivable;
according to that ejaculation in the Greek liturgies: " By Thy unKinown sufferings, 0 Christ, have mercy on us." But, further,
III. We may consider that this way of suffering had in it some
particular advantages conducing to the accomplishment of our Lord's
principal design.
Its being very notorious, and lasting a competent time, were good
advantages; for if He had been privately made away, or suddenly
dispatched, no such great notice would have been taken of it, nor
would the matter of fact itself have been so fully proved to the confirmation of our faith, and conviction of infidelity; nor had that His
excellent deportment under such bitter affliction (His most Divine
patience, meekness, and charity), so illustriously shone forth: wherefore (to prevent all exceptions, and excuses of unbelief, and for other
collateral good purposes) Divine Providence did so manage the business that as the course of His life, so also the manner of His death
should be most conspicuous and remarkable. " These things (as St.
Paul told King Agrippa) were not done in a corner." And "I (said
our Lord Himself) spake freely to the world, and in secret have I
done nothing." So were the proceedings of His life, not close or
clancular, but frank and open; not presently hushed up, but carried
on leisurely in the face of the world, that men might have the advantage to observe and examine them. And as He lived, so He died,
most publicly and visibly, the world being witness of His death, and
so prepared to believe His resurrection, and thence ready to embracX




270                 ISAAC BARROW.
His doctrine, according to what He did Himself foretell, " I being
lifted up from the earth, shall draw all men unto Mie;" He drew all
men by so remarkable a death to take notice of it, He drew some
from the wondrous consequences of it to believe on Him, and, "As
(saith He again) Moses did exalt the serpent in the wilderness, so
must the Son of man be exalted."  The elevation of that mysterious
serpent upon a pole did render it visible, and attracted the eyes of
people toward it, whereby God's power, invisibly accompanying that
sacramental performance, they were cured of those mortiferous stings
which they had received; so our Lord, being mounted on the cross,
allured the eyes of men to behold, and their hearts to close with
Him, whereby the heavenly virtue of God's Spirit co-operating, they
became saved from those destructive sins which, by the Devil's serpentine instigations they had incurred.
Another advantage of this kind of suffering was, that by it the
nature of that kingdom which He intended to erect was evidently
signified, that it was not such as the carnal people did expect, an
external, earthly, temporal kingdom, consisting in domination over
the bodies and estates of men, dignified by outward wealth and splendor, managed by worldly power and policy, promoted by force and
terror of arms, affording to men the advantages of outward safety,
peace, and prosperity; but a kingdom purely spiritual, heavenly,
eternal, consisting in the government of men's hearts and spirits,
adorned with endowments of piety and virtue administered by the
grace and guidance of God's Holy Spirit, maintained and propagated
by meek instruction, by virtuous example, by hearty devotion and
humble patience, rewarding its loyal subjects with spiritual joys and
consolations here, with endless rest and bliss hereafter; no other
kingdom could He be presumed to design who submitted to this dolorous and disgraceful way of suffering; no other exploits could He
pretend to achieve by expiring on a cross; no other way could He
govern who gave Himself up to be managed by the will of his enemies; no other benefits would that forlorn case allow Him to dis.
pense; so that well might He then assert " My kingdom is not of
this world," when He was going in this signal manner to demon
strate that great truth. It was a touchstone to prove men's disposition, and to discriminate the ingenuous, well-disposed, humble and
sober persons, who would entertain our Lord's heavenly doctrine
with acceptance, notwithstanding these disadvantages, "not being
offended in Him," from those perverse, vain, proud, profane people,
who, being scandalized at His adversity, would reject Him.
Another advantage was this, that by it God's special Providence




THE CRUCIFIXION  OF CHRIST.                 271
was discovered, and His glory illustrated, in the propagation of the
Gospel; for how could it be that a person of so low parentage, of
so mean garb, of so poor condition, who underwent so woeful and
despicable a kind of death, falling under the pride and spite of His
adversaries, should so easily gain so general an opinion in the world
(among the best, the wisest, the greatest persons) of being " the Lord
of life and glory?" How, I say, could it be that such a miracle
should be effected without God's aid and special concurrence? That
Herod, who, from a long reign in a flourishing state, with prosperous success of his undertakings, got the name of Great, or that Vespasian who triumphantly did ascend the imperial throne, should
either of them by a few admirers of worldly vanity, seriously or in
flattery, be deemed the Messias, is not so very strange-but that One
who so miserably was trampled on, and treated as a wretched caitiff,
should instantly conquer innumerable hearts, and from such a depth
of extreme adversity should attain the highest pitch of glory, that
"the Stone which the builders" with so much scorn "did refuse,
should become the Head-stone of the corner, this (with good assurance we may say) is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our
eyes." It may well be so, and thereby "the excellency" of divine
power and wisdom was much glorified; by so impotent, so implausible and improbable means, accomplishing so great effects, subduing
the world to His obedience, not by the active valor of an illustrious
hero, but through the patient submission of a poor, abused, and oppressed person, restoring mankind to life by the death of a crucified
Saviour.
Again, this kind of suffering, to the devout Fathers, did seem
many ways significant, or full of instructive and admonitive emblems,
being a rich and large field for a devout fancy to range with affectionate meditation.
His posture on the cross might represent unto us that large and
comprehensive charity which He bare in His heart toward us,
stretching forth His arms of kindness, pity, and mercy, with them,
as it were, to embrace the world, receiving all mankind under the
wings of His gracious protection.
It might exhibit Him as earnestly wooing and entreating us to
return unto God, accepting the reconciliation which He then was
purchasing, and did then offer to us: " I have spread out My hands
all the day unto a rebellious people," said God, of old, doing it then
mediately and figurately by His prophets, but He did so now immediately and properly by Himself; the cross being as a pulpit, from
which our Lord, " God blessed forever," did Himself, in person, earn



272                 ISAAC BARROW,
estly preach the overtures of grace, did exhort to repentance, did
tender the remission of sin, with action most pathetical and affecting.
His ascent to the cross might set forth His discharging that high
office of universal High Priest for all ages and all people, the cross
being an altar whereon He did offer up His own flesh, and pour forth
His blood as a pure and perfect sacrifice, propitiating God, and expi
ating the sins of mankind.
His elevation thither may suggest to our thoughts that submission
to God's will, suffering for truth and righteousness, the exercises of
humility and patience, are conjoined with exaltation, do qualify for,
and in effect procure, true preferment; so that the lower we stoop
in humility, the higher we shall rise in favor with God, the nearer
we shall approach to heaven, the surer we shall be of God's blessing,
according to that aphorism of our Lord, " Whosoever humbleth himself shall be exalted." The cross was a throne, whereon humility
and patience did sit in high state and glorious majesty, advanced
above all worldly pride and insolence; it was a great step, a sure
ascent unto the celestial throne of dignity superlative; for, because
our Lord " was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross,
therefore did God far exalt Him above all dignity and power in
heaven and earth," as St. Paul doth teach us.
0 the fallacy of human sense I O the vanity of carnal judgment I
nothing ever was more auspicious or more happy than this event,
which had so dismal an aspect, and provoked so contemptuous scorn
in some, so grievous pity in others; the devil thought he had done
bravely when he had by his suggestions brought the Son of God
into this case; the world supposed itself highly prosperous in its
attempts against Him; but O how blind and foolish is malice, which
then doth most hurt itself when it triumpheth in the mischief which
it doeth to others I How impotent is wickedness, which is never
more thoroughly ruined than by its own greatest success I for by
thus striving to debase our Lord, they most highly did advance Him;
by thus crossing our salvation they most effectually did promote it.
Further, looking up to the cross may admonish us how our salvation is acquired, and wnence it doth proceed; not by casting our
eyes downward, not from any thing that lieth upon earth; but " our
help cometh from above, our salvation is attained by looking up.
ward' we must lift up our eyes to behold our Saviour procuring it.
we must raise up our hearts to derive it from Him.
Our Lord's crucifixion may also intimate to us how our flesh
must be dealt with, and to what usage we must submit it; for we
must not only imitate our Saviour in His holy life, but in some mar



TEU  CRUCIFIXION  OF CHRIST.                  273
ner should resemble Him in His ghastly death; being, as St. Paul
speaketh,'" conformable to His death, and planted together with Him
in the likeness of it: mortifying our earthly members, crucifying
the flesh with its affections and lusts; having our old man crucified
together with Christ, that the body of sin may be destroyed." His
death may fitly shadow our death to sin, His grievous pain the bitterness of our repentance, wherein our souls should be pierced with
sharp compunction, as His sacred flesh was torn with nails; His
shame, that confusion of mind which regard to our offenses should
produce within us.
Reflecting on Him, we may also discern our state here; wherein,
if we will be truly and thoroughly virtuous, we must be exposed to
envy and hatred, to censure and obloquy, to contempt and scorn, to
affliction and hardship; every good man must hang on some cross;
" We are (saith St. Paul) appointed to this;" it is our lot and portion
assigned to us by divine immutable decree; being "predestined to a
conformity with this image of God's Son: we must (as He did) by
many tribulations enter into the kingdom of God: All that will live
godlily in Christ Jesus shall certainly suffer persecution, one way or
other partaking of His cross."
Divers such analogies and resemblances devout meditation might
extract from this matter. suggesting practical truths, and exciting
good affections in us.
IV. We may (for the confirmation of car faith, and begetting in
us a due adoration of the divine wisdom and providence) observe
the correspondency of this our Saviour's manner of suffering to the
ancient prophecies foretelling it, and the typical representations foreshadowing it.
That most famous, clear, and complete prophecy concerning the
passion, doth express Him suffering as a malefactor (" He was reckoned
among the transgressors"), suffering in a manner very painful (" He
was wounded for our transgressions, and bruised for our iniquities"),
suffering in a most ignominious way ("' He was despised and rejected
of men, as a man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief,") which circumstances could scarce so punctually agree to any other kind of
suffering, or punishment then used as to this.
In the twenty-second Psalm, the royal prophet describe than afflicted and forlorn condition such as by no passages in the story concerning Him doth in the full extent, and according to the literal signification of his words, appear suitable to his person, which therefore is
more properly to be accommodated unto the Messias, whom he did
represent; and in that description, among other passages agre.ing
18




274                 ISAAC BARROW.
to our Lord, these words do occur: " Thou. hast brought me into
the dust of death; for dogs have compassed Me, thie assembly of the
wicked have inclosed Me; they pierced My hands and My feet;"
which words how patly and livelily do they set out our Saviour's
being nailed to the cross, and treated in that cruel and in that
shameful way by His malicious adversaries!
In the prophet Zechariah, God speaking in His own name, " They
(namely some of the Jews, being sensible of what they had acted,
and penitently affected for it, they) shall look upon Me, whom they
have pierced:" which words need no violence to wring from them
the right meaning, no comment to explain them, in accommodation
to that matter to which the Evangelists do apply them, and to whidh
they are so literally congruous.
The same was also fitly prefigured by opposite types. Isaac, the
immediate " heir of the promise," in whom the faithful seed was called
and conveyed down, and so a most apt type of our Saviour, being
devoted and offered up to God, did himself bear the wood by which
he was to be offered: so did our Saviour, the promised seed, in " whom
all nations should be blessed," Himself hear the cross by which He
was to suffer, and to be offered up a sacrifice to God.
Those who were dangerously bitten by fiery serpents, were, by
looking upon a brazen serpent set upon a pole, preserved in life,
which (according to most authentic exposition) did represent the sal.
vation which should proceed from our beholding and believing on
Him lifted up upon the cross to us, who had been mortally struck
and stung by that old serpent's poisonous insinuations.
The paschal lamb was a most congruous emblem of " Christ our
passover" (that most innocent and meek, most unblemished and spot.
less Lamb, slain for the sins of the world.) It was to be killed by
the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel, its blood was to
be dashed on the side-posts and cross-beams of every door; its body
was not to be eaten raw, nor sodden with water, but roasted whole,
and dressed upon a spit; nor were any of its bones to be broken;
which circumstances, with so exact caution and care prescribed, how
they justly suit and fitly adumbrate this manner of our Saviour's
passion, I need not otherwise than by the bare mention of them
declare; every one easily being able to compare and adapt them.
V. Lastly, the consideration of our Lord's thus suffering is applicable to our practice; being most apt to instruct and affect us; admon..
ishing us of our duty, and exciting us to a conscionable performance
thereof; no contemplation indeed is more fruitful, or more efficacious
toward the sanctification of our hearts and lives, than this of the




TEE CBIJUCIFIXION OF CHRIST.                270
cross; for what good affection may not the meditation on it kindle?
what virtue may it not breed and cherish in us?
1. How can it otherwise than inflame our heart with love toward
our Lord, to think what acerbity of pain, what indignity of shame,
He did willingly undertake, and gladly endure for us? No imagination can devise a greater expression of charity and friendship; and
if love naturally is productive of love, if friendship meriteth a correspondence in kindness, what effect should the consideration of
such ineffable love, of so incomparable friendship, have upon us.
2. How can a reflection on this case otherwise than work hearty
gratitude in us? Suppose any person for our sake (that he might
rescue us from the greatest mischiefs, and purchase for us the highest benefits) willingly should deprive himself of all his estate, his
honor, his ease, and pleasure, should expose himself to extremest
hazards, should endure the sorest pains and most disgraceful ignominies, should prostitute his life, and lose it in the most hideous
manner: should we not then be monstrously ungrateful if we did not
most deeply resent such kindness; if upon all occasions we did not
express our thankfulness for it; if we did not ever readily yield all
the acknowledgment and all the requital we were able? The case
in regard to our Lord is the same in kind; but in degree, whatever
we can suppose, doth infinitely fall below the performances for us
of Him who stooped from the top of heaven, who laid aside the felicity and majesty of God for the sorrows and infamies of the cross,
that He might redeem us from the torments of hell, and procure to
us the joys of heaven; so that our obligation to gratitude is inexpressibly great, and we are extremely unworthy, if the effects in our
heart and life be not answerable.
3. What surer ground of faith in God, or stronger encouragement of hope can there be, than is hence afforded to us? for " if God
spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for our sake'" to the
suffering of these bitter pains and contumelies; how can we in any
case distrust His bounty, or despair of His mercy?  "How (as St.
Paul argueth) shall He not also with Him freely give us all things?"
What higher favor could God express, what lower condescension
could He show: how more plainly or surely could He testify His
willingness and His delight to do us good, than by ordering the Son
of His love to undergo these most grievous things for us? How,
consequently, could there be laid a stronger foundation of our hope
and entire confidence in God?
4. What greater engagement (in general) can there be to obedience than to consider how readily and cheerfully our Lord did sub.




2768                ISAAC BARRO V.
mit to the will of God, in bearing the most heavy yoke that could
be imposed on Him, in drinking the most bitter cup that could be
tempered for Him: how that He " did humble Himself, being obedient unto death, even the death of the cross?" how dearly He did
purchase His property in us, and dominion over us?
What detestation of our sins must the serious consideration of
this event produce in us! of our sins, that brought such tortures
and such reproaches on our blessed Redeemer I Judas, the wretch
who betrayed Him, the Jewish priests who did accuse and prosecute
Him, the wicked rout which abused and insulted over Him, those
cruel hands that smote Him, those pitiless hearts that scorned Him,
those poisonous tongues that mocked and reviled Him, all those
who any wise were instruments or abettors of His affliction, how do
we loathe them I how do we detest and curse their memories I But
how much more greater reason have we to abominate our sins,
which were the principal causes of all that woeful tragedy I " He
was delivered for our offenses:" they were indeed the traitors which,
by the hands of Judas, delivered Him up. " He that knew no sin
was made sin for us;" that is, was accused, was condemned, was
executed as a sinner for us: it was therefore we who by our sins did
impeach Him; the spiteful priests were but our advocates; we by
them did adjudge and sentence Him; Pilate (against his will and
conscience) was but our spokesman; we by him did inflict that
horrid punishment on Him; the Roman executioners were but our
agents therein. " He became a curse for us;" that is, all the mock.
ery, derision, and contumely He endured did proceed from us; the
silly people were but properties, acting our parts; our sins were
they that cried out " Crucifige 1" ("crucify Him! crucify Him") with
clamors more loud and more effectual than did all the Jewish
rabble; it was they which by the borrowed throats of that base people did so outrageously persecute Him. " He was wounded for our
transgressions and bruised for our iniquities;" it was they which, by
the hands of the fierce soldiers and of the rude populacy, as by
senseless engines, did buffet and scourge Him; they by the nails
and thorns did pierce His flesh and rend His sacred body: upon
them, therefore, it is most just and fit that we should turn our
hatred, that we should discharge our inmignation.
5. And what in reason can be more powerful to the breeding in
us remorse and penitent sorrow than reflection upon such horrible
effects proceeding from our sins? how can we but earnestly grieve,
when we consider ourselves by them to have been the betrayers, the
slanderers, the murderers of a Person so innocent and lovely, of




THE CRUCIFIXION OF CHRIST.                   277
One so great and glorious, of God's dear Son, and the Lord of all
things, of our own best Friend and most kind Saviour I
6. If ingenuity will not operate so far, and hereby melt us into
contrition, yet surely this consideration must needs produce some
fear within us; for can we at least otherwise than tremble to think
upon the heinous guilt of our sins, upon the fierceness of God's
wrath against them, upon the severity of Divine judgment for them,
all so manifestly discovered, all so livelily set forth in this dismal
spectacle? If the view of an ordinary execution is apt to beget in
us some terror, some dread of the law, some reverence toward au.
thority, what awful impressions should this singular example of
Divine justice work upon us? How greatly we should be moved
thereby, we may learn from the deportment of the most inanimate
creatures: the whole world did seem affected thereat with horror;
the frame of things was disturbed, all nature did feel a kind of compassion and compunction for it; the sun (as out of aversion and
shame) did hide his face, leaving the earth covered for three hours
with mournful blackness; the bowels of the earth did yearn and
quake; the rocks were rent; the vail of the temple was torn quite
through; graves did open, and the bodies did wake: and can we
(who are most concerned) be more stupid than the earth, more obdu.
rate than rocks, more drowsy than buried carcasses, the most insensible and immovable things in nature?
7. How also can it but hugely deter us from willful commission
of sin, to consider that by it we do, as the Apostle teacheth, "recrucify the Son of God, and again expose Him to open shame;'"
bringing upon the stage and acting over all that direful tragedy;
renewing (as to our guilt) all that pain and that disgrace to Him;
that we thereby, as he telleth us, do " trample upon the Son of God,
and prize the blood of the covenant (that most sacred and precious
blood, so freely shed for the demonstration of God's mercy, and the
ratification of His gracious intentions toward us) as a common
thing," of no special worth or consideration with us; despising all
His so kind and painful endeavors for our salvation; defeating His
most gracious purposes and earnest desires for our welfare; rendering all His so bitter and loathsome sufferings, in regard to us, altogether vain and fruitless, yea, indeed hurtful and pernicious; for if
the cross do not save us from our sins, it will sorely aggravate their
guilt and augment their punishment, bringing a severer condemnation and a sadder ruin on us.
8. It may also yield great consolation and joy to us to contem.
plate our Lord upon the cross, expressing His immense goodnesa




278                 ISAAC BARROW.
and charity toward us; transacting our redemption; expiating our
sins, and sustaining our miseries; combating and defeating all the
adversaries of our salvation.
Is it not comfortable and pleasant to behold Him there standing
erect, not only as a resolute Sufferer, but as a glorious Conqueror;
where, "having spoiled principalities and powers, He made a solemn
show, triumphing over them?" No conqueror, loftily seated in his
triumphal chariot, did ever yield a spectacle so gallant or magnificent; no tree was ever adorned with trophies so pompous or precious. To the external view and carnal sense of men our Ioxird
was then exposed to scorn and shame; but to spiritual and true dis.
cerning all His and our enemies did there hang up, as objects of
contempt, quite overthrown and undone: there the Devil, that strong
and sturdy one, did hang, bound and fettered, disarmed and spoiled,
utterly baffled and confounded. There death itself hung gasping,
with its sting plucked out, and all its terrors quelled; His death having prevented ours, and purchased immortality for us. There the
world, with its vain pomps, its counterfeit beauties, its fondly-admired excellences, its bewitching pleasures, (lid hang up, all disparaged and effaced, as it appeared to St. Paul: " God forbid (said
he) that I should glory, save in the cross of Christ, b'y which the
world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." There our sins,
those sins which as St. Peter saith our Saviour " did carry up into the
gibbet," did hang, as marks of his victorious prowess, as objects of
our horror and hatred, as malefactors by Him " condemned in the
flesh." There that manifold enmity (enmity between God and man,
between one man and another, between man and his own self, or
conscience) did hang "abolished in His flesh" and " slain upon the
cross; by the blood whereof He made peace, and reconciled all
things in heaven and earth." The blood of the cross was the
cement, joining the parts of the world. There, together with all
our enemies, did hang all those causes of woe and misery to us,
those yokes of bondage, those instruments of vexation, those hard
laws which did so much burden and encumber men, did set them at
such distance and variance, did so far subject them to guilt and
condemnation; all " that bond of ordinances," inducing our obligation to so grievous forfeitures and penalties, was " nailed to the
cross." being cancelled and expunged by our Saviour's performances there.
9. This consideration is a strong inducement to the practice of
charity toward our neighbor; for can we forbear to love those to.
ward whom our Saviour bore such tender affection, for whom He




THE CRUCIFIXION  OF CHRI[ T.                279
did sustain so woeful tortures and indignities?  Shall we not, in
obedience to His most urgent commands, in conformity to His most
notable example, in grateful return to Him for His benefits, who
thus did suffer for us, discharge this most sweet and easy duty toward His beloved friends? Shall we not comport with an infirmity, or bear a petty neglect, or forgive a small injury to our brother,
whereas our Lord did bear a cross for us, and from us, obtaining
pardon for our numberless most heinous affronts and offenses
against God?  It is St. Paul's reasoning: "We that are strong
ought to bear the infirmities of the weak; for even Christ pleased
not Himself; but, as it is written, The reproaches of them that reproached Thee fell on Me." Can we hear our Lord say, " This is
My command, That ye love one another, as I have loved you;"
and, " Hereby shall all men know that ye are My disciples, if ye
love one another;" can we hear St. Paul exhorting, "' Walk in love,
as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given Himself for us, an of.
fering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savor;" can we
consider St. John's arguing, "' Beloved, if God so loved us, then
ought we also to love one another: Hereby we perceive the love of
God, because He laid down His life for us: wherefore we ought to
lay down our lives for the brethren;" can, I say, we consider such
discourses, without being disposed to comply with them for the sake
of our crucified Saviour, all whose life and death were nothing else
but one continual recommendation and enforcement of this duty?
10. Furthermore, What can be more operative than this consideration toward breeding a disregard of this world, with all its deceitful vanities and mischievous delights; toward reconciling our minds to
the worst condition it can bring us into; toward supporting our
hearts under the heaviest pressures of affliction it can lay upon us?
How can we refuse, in submission to God's pleasure, to bear contentedly a slight grievance, when He, as He gladly did, bore a cross
infinitely more grievous to carnal will and sense than any that can
befall us? Can we expect, can we affect, can we desire great prosperity, when as the Son of God, our Lord and Master, did only taste
such adversity? Who can admire those splendid trifles which our
Lord did never regard in His life, which at His death did only serve
to mock and abuse Him? Who can relish those sordid pleasures
of which He living did not vouchsafe to taste, and the contraries
whereof He dying chose to feel in all extremity? Who will dare
to villify, to disdain, to reject a state of sorrow or disgrace, which He
by a voluntary susception of it hath so dignified and graced; by
which we resemble and become conformable to Him; by which we




280                   ISAAC BARROW.
concur and partake with Him; yea, by which we may promote, and
in a sort complete, His designs; "filling up (as St. Paul speaketh)
that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in our flesh?" Who
now can much prefer being esteemed, applauded, approved, or
favored by men, before infamy, reproach, derision, or persecution
from them, especially when these do follow conscientious adherence
to righteousness? Who can be very ambitious of worldly honor
or repute, covetous of wealth or greedy of pleasure, who observeth
the only Son of God choosing rather to hang upon a cross than to
sit upon a throne; inviting the clamors of spite and scorn, rather
than acclamations of blessing and praise; divesting Himself of all
secular pomp, plenty, conveniences, and solaces; embracing the garb
of a slave and the repute of a malefactor, before the dignity and
respect of a prince, which were His due, and which He easily could
have obtained? Can we imagine it a very happy thing to be high
and prosperous in this world, to swim here in affluence and pleasure;
can we take it for a misery to be mean and low, to conflict with any
wants or straits here, seeing the fountain of all happiness did Himself condescend to so forlorn a state, and was pleased to become so
deep a sufferer? If with the eyes of our mind we do behold our
Lord hanging naked upon a gibbet, besmeared with His own blood,
groaning under extreme anguish of pain, encompassed with all sorts
of disgraceful abuses, "yielding (as the prophet foretold of him) His
back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them who plucked off the
hair, hiding not His face from shame and spitting;" will not the
imagination of such a sight dim the luster of all earthly grandeurs
and beauties, damp the sense of all carnal delights and satisfactions,
quash all the glee which we can find in any wild frolics or riotous
mnerrirnents?
11. It is surely a great commendation of afflictions, and a strong
consolation under them, to ponder well this point; for if hardship
was to our Lord a school of duty, " He (as the Apostle saith) learning
obedience from what He suffered;" if it was to Him an instrument
of perfection, as the same Apostle implieth, when he saith, " that it
became God to perfect the Captain of our salvation by suffering;"
if it was a means of procuring the Divine favor even to Him, as those
words import, " Therefore the Father loveth Me, because I lay down
My life;" if it was to Him a step unto glory, according to that saying, " Was not Christ to suffer, and so to enter into His glory?" yea,
if it was a ground of conferring on Him that sublimest pitch of
dignity above all creatures, as we are taught; " for becar.se (saith St.
Paul) He was obedient to death, even the death of the cross, there




THE CRUCIFIXION  OF CHRIST.                 281
fore did God 3xalt Him, and give Him a name above every name;"
and, "We see Jesus (saith the Apostle to the Hebrews) for the suf.
fering of death crowned with glory and honor;" and, "Worthy
(crieth out the heavenly society in the Revelations) is the Lamb that
was slain, and who redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive
power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory,
and blessing;" if affliction did minister such advantages to Him; and
if by our conformity to Him in undergoing it with like submission,
humility, and patience, it may afford the like to us, what reason can
there be that we should anywise be discomposed, discouraged, or
disconsolate under it? Much more reason surely there is that with
St. Paul and all the holy apostles we should boast, rejoice, and exult
in our tribulations; far more cause we have with them to esteem it
a favor, a privilege, and an ornament to us, than to be discontented
or displeased therewith. To do thus is a duty incumbent on us as
Christians: " for he (saith our Master) that doth not take up his cross
and follow Me is not worthy of Me: He that doth not carry his cross,
and go after Me, can not be My disciple:" he that doth not willingly
take the cross, when it is presented to him by God's hand; he that
doth not contentedly bear it, when it is by Providence imposed on
him, is nowise worthy of the honor to wait on Christ; he is not
capable to be reckoned among the disciples of our heavenly Master;
he is not worthy of Christ, as not having the courage, the constancy,
the sincerity required of a Christian; of one pretending to such
great benefits, such high privileges, such excellent rewards, as Christ
our Lord and Saviour doth propose; he can not be Christ's disciple,
showing such incapacity to learn those needful lessons of humility
and patience dictated by him; declaring such an indisposition to
transcribe those copies of submission to the Divine will, self-denial
and self-resignation, so fairly set him by the instruction and example
of Christ; " Forasmuch then as Christ hath suffered for us in the
flesh, arm yourselves likewise with the same mind;" and, " Christ
suffered for us, leaving us an example, that we should follow his
steps," saith St. Peter.
12. The willing susception and the cheerful sustenance of the
cross is indeed the express condition, and the proper character of our
Christianity; in signification whereof it hath been from immemorial
time a constant usage to mark those who enter into it with the figure
of the cross. The cross, as the instrument by which our peace with
Gou was wrought, as the stage whereon our Lord did act the last
part of His miraculous obedience, consummating our redemption;
as the field wherein the Captain of our salvation did achieve His




282                  ISAAC BARROW.
noble victory, and erect His glorious trophies over all the enemies
thereof, was well assumed to be the badge of our profession, the en.
sign of our spiritual welfare, the pledge of our constant adherence
to our crucified Saviour; in relation to whom our chief hope is
grounded, our great joy and sole glory doth consist; "for God forbid
(saith St. Paul) that I should glory, save in the cross of Christ."
Let it be to the Jews a scandal, or offensive to their fancy, prepossessed with expectations of a Messias flourishing in secular pomp
and prosperity; let it be folly to the Greeks, or seem absurd to men
imbued (puffed up, corrupted) with fleshly notions and maxims of
worldly craft, disposing men to value nothing which is not grateful
to present sense or fancy; that God should put his own most beloved
Son into so very sad and despicable a condition; that salvation from
death and misery should be procured by so miserable a death; that
eternal joy, glory, and happiness should issue from these fountains
of extreme sorrow and shame; that a person in external semblance
devoted to so opprobrious and slavish usage should be the Lord and
Redeemer of mankind, the King and Judge of all the world; let
this doctrine, I say, be scandalous and distasteful to some persons
tainted with prejudice; let it appear strange and incredible to others
blinded with self-conceit; let all the proud, all the profane, all the
inconsiderate part of mankind slight and reject it; yet to us it must
appear grateful and joyous; to us it is ntaroi; 16yo5, "a faithful (and
credible) proposition, worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ
came into the world thus to save sinners;" to us, who discern by a
clearer light, and are endued with a purer sense, kindled by the
Divine Spirit, from whence, with comfortable satisfaction of mind,
we may apprehend and taste that God could not in a higher measure,
or a fitter manner, illustrate His glorious attributes of goodness and
justice, His infinite grace and mercy toward His poor creatures, His
holy displeasure against wickedness, His impartial severity in punishing iniquity and impiety, or in vindicating His own honor and authority, than by thus ordering His Son to suffer for us; that also
true virtue and goodness could not otherwise be taught, be exemplified, be commended and impressed with greater advantage.
We might allege the suffrages of eminent philosophers, persons
esteemed most wise bv improvement of natural light, who have declared that perfection of virtue can hardly be produced or expressed
otherwise than by urdergoing most sharp afflictions and tortures'
and that God therefore, as a wise Father, is wont with them to exercise those whom He best loveth: we might also produce instances of
divers persons, even among Pagans, most famous and honorable in




THE CRUCIFIXION  OF CHRIST.                288
the judgment of all posterity for their singular virtue and wisdom,
who were tried in this furnace, and thereby shone most brightly;
their suffering, by the iniquity and ingratitude, by the envy and
malignity of their times, in their reputation, liberty, and life; their
undergoing foul slanders, infamous punishments, and ignominious
deaths, more than any other practices of their life, recommending
them to the regard and admiration of future ages; although none
of them, as our Lord, did suffer of choice, or upon design to advance
the interests of goodness, but upon constraint, and irresistible force
put on them; none of them did suffer in a manner so signal, with
circumstances so rare, and with events so wonderful; yet suffering
as they did was their chief glory; whence it seemeth that even according to the sincerest dictates of common wisdom this dispensation
was not so unaccountable; nor ought the Greeks, in consistency with
themselves, and in respect to their own admired philosophy, to have
deemed our doctrine of the cross foolish, or unreasonable.
To conclude: since thereby a charity and humanity so unparalleled (far transcending theirs who have been celebrated for devoting
their lives out of love to their country or kindness to their friends),
a meekness so incomparable, a resolution so invincible, a patience
so heroical, were manifested for the instruction and direction of men;
since never were the vices and the vanities of the world (so prejudicial to the welfare of mankind) so remarkably disparaged; since
never any suffering could pretend to so worthy and beneficial effects,
the expiation of the whole world's sin, and reconciliation of mankind
to God, such as no performance beside, nor any other sacrifice, did
ever aim to procure; since, in fine. no virtue had ever so glorious
rewards, as sovereign dignity to Him that exercised it, and eternal
happiness to those who imitate it; since, I say, there be such excellent uses and fruits of the cross borne by our blessed Saviour, we
can have no reason to be offended at it, or ashamed of it; but with
all reason heartily we should approve and humbly adore, as well
the deep wisdom of God, as all other His glorious attributes illustriously displayed therein: to whom, therefore, as is most due, let
us devoutly render all thanks, all praise, and glory.
And, " Unto Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins it
His own blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto God and
His Father; to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever."
"Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that
sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, forever and ever."
Amen.




DISCOURSE TWENTY.FIRST.
ROBERT SOUTH, D.D.
DR. SOUTH was born at Hackney, in 1638; educated at Westlninstet
School, and Christ Church, Oxford, and privately ordained by one, of the
deprived bishops in 1658. Between 1660 and 1678 he was Public Orator
at Oxford, Chaplain to the Earl of Clarendon, Prebendary of Westminster,
Chaplain to the Duke of York, Canon of Christ Church, Chaplain to the
English embassador in Poland, and Rector of Islip, in Oxfordshire. He
died in 1716.
South is famous for his wit, and his hearty contempt of the independ.
ents, and all kinds of dissenters, against whom he inveighs with most
enthusiastic energy and zeal. It would appear that his disposition was
unfortunately morose, overbearing, and haughty; while his earnest sup.
port of things in the royal and established order made him popular.
But he was a man of decided genius and eloquence; and his numerous
sermons, in certain peculiarities, possess great merit. That they should
become common in this land of the Puritans, is accounted for only on
the ground of Dryden's criticism on a poem that is the product of true
genius: "It will force its own reception in the world; for there is a
3weetness in good verse which tickles while it hurts." Any one who is
susceptible to the charm of mental raciness will read South, notwith.
standing he is indignant at his bitter invectives and abuse. Few men
understood the power of language better than he. Indeed he may be.
considered the first who combined the rich, full, sounding period with
the happy condensation of meaning. South abounds in pithy aphorisms, striking similitudes of nature, and apposite philosophical and
classical allusions. He lacks unction, of course; how could it exist with
so much wormwood and gall? and though generally sound in doctrine, his
sermons are not strictly Evangelical; but yet, they afford some of the
very finest examples of real masculine eloquence; and are models of
simplicity of outline, and of clearness and sententiousness of' diction.
Too intent to carry his point, to turn aside to false ornament, South is
every where direct, condensed, and pungent; pressing right onward,
and dealing out at -. -ry step some pithy declamation, or striking antith.




THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.                     285
esas, or scathing invective, or clear and weighty precept. Few will
demur at the verdict of the "Edinburg Review," that, because of their
numerous specimens of the most effective species of pulpit eloquence,
the sermons of South "are well worthy of frequent and diligent perusal
by every young preacher." The following has been noted, by very
high authority, as possessing fewest of his imperfections, and being,
upon the whole, the best of his productions. It was preached at th
Cathedral of St. Paul, November 9th, 1662; and dedicated to the Lord
Mayor and Aldermen of London. In the Epistle Dedicatory, he says,
" Briefly, my business is, by describing what man was in his first estate,
to upbraid him with what he is in his present."
THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.
"So God created man in His own image, in the image of God created He him."GENsIs, i. 27.
How hard it is for natural reason to discover a creation before
revealed, or, being revealed, to believe it, the strange opinions of
the old philosophers, and the infidelity of modern atheists, is too sad
a demonstration. To run the world back to its first original' and
infancy, and (as it were) to view nature in its cradle, and trace the
out-goings of the Ancient of days in the first instance and specimen
of His creative power, is a research too great for any mortal inquiry;
and we might continue our scrutiny to the end of the world, before
natural reason would be able to find out when it begun.
Epicurus's discourse concerning the original of the world is so
fabulous and ridiculously merry that we may well judge the design
of his philosophy to have been pleasure, and not instruction. Aris
totle held that it streamed by con-natural result and emanation fron
God, the infinite and eternal Mind, as the light issues from the sun;
so that there was no instant of duration assignable of God's eternal
existence in which the world did not also co-exist. Others held a
fortuitous concourse of atoms —but all seem jointly to explode a creation, still beating upon this ground, that the producing something
out of nothing is impossible and incomprehensible; incomprehensible, indeed, I grant, but not therefore impossible. There is not the
least transaction of sense and motion in the whole man, but philosophers are at a loss to comprehend, I am sure they are to explain it.
Wherefore it is not always rational to measure the truth of an assertion by the standard of our apprehension.
But, to bring things even to the bare perception of reason, I




286                ROBERT SOUTH.
appeal to any one who shall impartially reflect upon the ideas and
conceptions of his own mind, whether he doth not find it as easy
and suitable to his natural notions to conceive that an infinite Al
mighty power might produce a thing out of nothing, and make that
to exist de novo, which did not exist before, as to conceive the world
to have had no beginning, but to have existed from eternity, which,
were it so proper for this place and exercise, I could easily demonstrate to be attended with no small train of absurdities. But then,
besides that the acknowledging of a creation is safe,, and the denial
of it dangerous and irreligious, and yet not more, perhaps much ]ess,
demonstrable than the affirmative; so, over and above, it gives me
this advantage, that, let it seem never so strange, uncouth, and incomprehensible, the nonplus of my reason will yield a fairer oppor.
tunity to my faith.
In this chapter we have God surveying the works of the creation,
and leaving this general impress or character upon them, " that they
were exceeding good." What an omnipotence wrought we have an
omniscience to approve. But as it is reasonable to imagine that
there is more of design, and consequently more of perfection, in the
last work, we have God here giving His last stroke, and summing
up all into man, the whole into a part, the universe into an individual: so that, whereas in other creatures we have but the trace of
His footsteps, in man we have the draught of His hand. In him
were united all the scattered perfections of the creature, all the graces
and ornaments; all the airs and features of being were abridged into
this small yet full system of nature and divinity: as we might well
imagine that the Great Artificer would be more than ordinarily exact
in drawing His own picture.
The work that I shall undertake from these words shall be to
show what this image of God in man is, and wherein it doth consist
Which I shall do these two ways: 1. Negatively, by showing wherein
it does not consist. 2. Positively, by showing wherein it does.
For the first of these we are to remove the erroneous opinion of
the Socinians. They deny that the image of God consisted in any
habitual perfections that adorned the soul of Adam, but as to his
understanding, bring him in void of all notion, a rude, unwritten
blank; making him to be created as much an infant as others are
born; sent into the world only to read and to spell out a God in the
works of creation, to learn by degrees, till at length his understanding grew up to the stature of his body; also without any inherent
habits of virtue in his will; thus divesting him of all, and stripping
him to his bare essence; so that all the perfection they allowed his




THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.                   287
understanding was aptness and docility, and all that they attriouted
to his will was a possibility to be virtuous.
But wherein, then, according to their opinion, did this image of
God consist? Why, in that power and dominion that God gave
Adam over the creatures; in that he was vouched His immediate
deputy upon earth, the viceroy of the creation, and lord-lieutenant
of the world. But that this power and dominion is not adequately
and formally the image of God, but only a part of it, is clear from
hence, because then he that had most of this would have most of
God's image; and consequently Nimrod had more of it than Noah,
Saul than Samuel, the persecutors than the martyrs, and Caesar than
Christ Himself, which, to assert, is a blasphemous paradox. And it
the image of God is only grandeur, power, and sovereignty, certainly
we have been hitherto much mistaken in our duty, and hereafter are
by all means to beware of making ourselves unlike God by too
much self-denial and humility. I am not ignorant that some may
distinguish between a lawful authority and actual power, and affirm
that God's image consists only in the former, which wicked princes,
such as Saul and Nimrod, have not, though they possess the latter.
But to this I answer,
1. That the Scripture neither makes nor owns such a distinction,
nor any where asserts that when princes begin to be wicked they
cease of right to be governors. Add to this, that when God renewed
this charter of man's sovereignty over the creatures to Noah and his
family we find no exception at all, but that Shem stood as fully invested with this right as any of his brethren.
2. But, secondly, this savors of somrething ranker than Socinianism, even the tenants of the fifth monarchy, and of sovereignty
founded only upon saintship, and therefore fitter to be answered by
the judge than the divine, and to receive its confutation at the bar
of justice than from the pulpit.
Having now made our way through this false opinion, we are in
the next place to lay down positively what this image of God in man
is. It is, in short, that universal rectitude of all the faculties of the
soul, by which they stand apt and disposed to their respective offices
and operations, which will be more fully set forth by taking a distinct survey of it in the several faculties belonging to the soul.
1. In the understanding. 2. In the will. 3. In the passions or
affections.
I. And, first, for its noblest faculty, the understanding: it was
then sublime, clear, and aspirins -and, as it were, the soul's upper




2488 -               ROBERT SOUTH.
region, lofty and serene, free from the vapors and disturbances of
the inferior affections. It was the leading, controling faculty; all
the passions wore the colors of reason; it was not consul, but dictator. Discourse was then almost as quick as intuition; it was nimble in proposing, firm in concluding; it could sooner determine than
now it can dispute. Like the sun, it had both light and agility; it
knew no rest but in motion, no quiet but in activity. It did not so
properly apprehend, as irradiate the object; not so much find, as
make things intelligible. It did arbitrate upon the several reports
of sense, and all the varieties of imagination, not like a drowsy judge,
only hearing, but also directing their verdict. In sum, it was vegete,
quick, and lively, open as the day, untainted as the morning, full of
the innocence and sprightliness of youth, it gave the soul a bright
and a full view into all things, and was not only a window, but itself
the prospect. Briefly, there is as much difference between the clear
representations of the understanding then and the obscure discoveries that it makes now as there is between the prospect of a casement
and of a keyhole.
Now, as there are two great functions of the soul, contemplation
andpractice, according to that general division of objects some of
which only entertain our speculation, others also employ our actions,
so the understanding, with relation to these, not because of any
distinction in the faculty itself, is accordingly divided into speculative and practical; in both of which the image of God was then
apparent.
1. For the understanding speculative. There are some general
maxims and notions in the mind of man which are the rules of discourse, and the basis of all philosophy. As, that the same thing can
not at the same time be and not be: that the whole is bigger than a
part: that two dimensions, severally equal to a third, must also be
equal to one another. Aristotle, indeed, affirms the mind to be at
first a mere rasa tabula, and that these notions are not ingenite, and
imprinted by the finger of nature, but by the later and more languid
impressions of sense, being only the reports of observation, and the
result of so many repeated experiments
But to this I answer two things.
(1.) That these notions are universal, and what is universal must
needs proceed from some universal, constant principle, the same in
all particulars, which here can be nothing else but human nature.
(2.) These can not be infused by observation, because they are
the rules by which men take their first apprehensions and observations of things, and therefore, in order of nature, must needs precede




THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.                   289
them; as the being of the rule must be before its application to the
thing directed by it. From whence it follows that these were notions not descending from us, but born with us, not our offspring,
but our brethren; and, as I may so say, such as we were taught
without the help of a teacher.
Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of innocence to have
these clear and unsullied. He came into the world a philosopher,
which sufficiently appeared by his writing the nature of things upon
their names; he could view essences in themselves, and read forms
without the comment of their respective properties; he could see
consequents yet dormant in their principles, and effects yet unborn,
and in the womb of their causes; his understanding could almost
pierce into future contingents; his conjectures improving even to
prophecy, or the certainties of prediction; till his fall, it was ignorant
of nothing but of sin, or at least it rested in the notion, without the
smart of the experiment. Could any difficulty have been proposed,
the resolution would have been as early as the proposal; it could not
have had time to settle into doubt. Like a better Archimedes, the issue
of all his inquiries was a eureka, a eureka, the offspring of his brain
without the sweat of his brow. Study was not then a duty, nightwatchings were needless, the light of reason wanted not the assistance
of a candle. This is the doom of fallen man, to labor in the fire, to
seek truth in profundo, to exhaust his time and impair his health,
and perhaps to spin out his days and himself into one pitiful, controverted conclusion. There was then no poring, no struggling with
memory, no straining for invention; his faculties were quick and
expedite, they answered without knocking, they were ready upon
the first summons, there was freedom and firmness in all their operations. I confess it is difficult for us, who date our ignorance from
our first being, and were still bred up with the s'ime infirmities about
us with which we were born, to raise our thoughts and imaginations
to those intellectual perfections that attended our nature in the time
of innocence, as it is for a peasant, bred up in the obscurities of a cottage, to fancy in his mind the unseen splendors of a court. But by
rating positives by their privatives, and other arts of reason by
which discourse supplies the want of the reports of sense, we may
collect the excellency of the understanding then, by the glorious
remainders of it now, and guess at the stateliness of the building by
the magnificence of its ruins. All those arts, rarities, and inventions,
which vulgar minds gaze at, the ingenious pursue, and all admire,
are but the relics of an intellect defaced with sin and time. We admire it now only as antiquaries do a piece of old coin, for the stamp
19




290                  ROBERT,SOUTH:
it once bore, and not for those vanishing lineaments and disappear.
ing draughts that remain upon it at present. And certainly that
must needs have been very giorious the decays of which are so admirable. He that is comely when old and decrepid surely was very
beautiful when he was young. An Aristotle was but the rubbish of
and Adam, and Athens but the rudiments of Paradise.
2. The image of God was no less resplendent in that which we
call man's practical understanding; namely, that storehouse of the
soul in which are treasured up the rules of action, and the seeds
of morality. Where, we must observe, that many who deny all
connate notions in the speculative intellect, do yet admit them in
this. Now of this sort are these maxims, " That God is to be worshiped: that parents are to be honored: that a man's word is to be
kept," and the like; which, being of universal influence, as to the
regulation of the behavior, and converse of mankind, are the
ground of all virtue and civility, and the foundation of religion.
It was the privilege of Adam innocent, to have these notions
also firm and untainted, to carry his monitor in his bosom, his law
in his heart, and to have such a conscience as might be its own
casuist: and certainly those actions must needs be regular where
there is an identity between the rule and the faculty. His own
mind taught him a due dependence upon God, and chalked out to
him the just proportions and measures of behavior to his fellow
creatures. He had no catechism but the creation, needed no study
but reflection, read no book but the volume of the world, and that
too, not for rules to work by, but for the objects to work upon.
Reason was his tutor, and first principles his magna moralia. The
decalogue of Moses was but a transcript, not an original. All the
laws of nations, and wise decrees of states, the statutes of Solon,
and the twelve tables, were but a paraphrase upon this standing rectitude of nature, this fruitful principle of justice, that was ready to
run out and enlarge itself into suitable demonstrations upon all
emergent objects and occasions. Justice then was neither blind to
discern, nor lame to execute. It was not subject to be imposed upon
by a deluded fancy, nor yet to be bribed by a glosing appetite, for
an utile or jucundum to turn the balance to a false or dishonest sentence. In all its directions of the inferior faculties it conveyed its
suggestions with clearness, and enjoined them with power; it had
the passions in perfect subjection; and, though its command over
them was but suasive and political, yet it had the force of absolute
and despotical. It was not then, as it is now, where the conscience
has only power to disapprove, and to protest against the excrbit



THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.                   21
ances of the passions; and rather to wish than make them other.
wise. The voice of conscience now is low and weak, chastising the
passions, as old Eli did his lustful domineering sons: " Not so, my
sons, not so;" but the voice of conscience then was not, This should,
or this ought to be done; but, This must, this shall be done. It
spoke like a legislator; the thing spoken was a law: and the manier of speaking it a new obligation. In short there was as great a
disparity between the practical dictates of the understanding then
and now, as there is between empire and advice, counsel and command, between a companion and a governor.
And thus much for the image of God, as it shone in man's understanding.
II. Let us in the next place take a view of it as it was stamped
upon the will. It is much disputed by divines concerning the power
of man's will to good and evil in the state of innocence: and upon
very nice and dangerous precipices stand their determinations on
either side. Some hold that God invested him with a power to
stand, so that in the strength of that power received, he might, without the auxiliaries of any further influence, have determined his will
to a full choice of good.  Others hold that notwithstanding this
power, yet it was impossible for him to exert it in any good action
without a superadded assistance of grace actually determining that
power to the certain production of such an act.  So that whereas
some distinguish between sufficient and effectual grace, they order
the matter so as to acknowledge none sufficient but what is indeed
effectual, and actually productive of good action. I shall not presume to interpose dogmatically in a controversy which I look never
to see decided. But concerning the latter of these opinions, I shall
only give these two remarks.
1. That it seems contrary to the common and natural conceptions
of all mankind, who acknowledge themselves able and sufficient to
do many things which actually they never do.
2. That to assert that God looked upon Adam's fall as a sin, and
punished it as such when, without any antecedent sin of his, he
withdrew that actual grace from him upon the withdrawing of
which it was impossible for him not to fall, seems a thing that
highly reproaches the essential equity and goodness of the divine
nature.
Wherefore, doubtless the will of man in the state of innocence
had an entire freedom, a perfect equipendency and indifference to
either part of the contradiction, to stand, or not to stand; to accept,




292                  ROBERT SOUTH.
or not accept the temptation. I will grant the will of man now to
be as much a slave as any one will have it, and be only free to sin;
that is, instead of a liberty, to have only a licentiousness; yet certainly this is not nature, but chance. We were not born crooked;
we learned these winding and turnings of the serpent: and therefore it can not but be a blasphemous piece of ingratitude to ascribe
them to God; and to make the plague of our nature the condition
of our creation.
The will was then ductile and pliant to all the motions of right
reason; it met the dictates of a clarified understanding half way.
And the active informations of the intellect, filling the passive reception of the will, like form closing with matter, grew actuate into a
third and distinct perfection of practice; the understanding and will
never disagreed; for the proposals of the one never thwarted the
inclinations of the other. Yet neither did the will servilely attend
upon the understanding, but as a favorite does upon his prince,
where the service is privilege and preferment; or as Solomon's
servants waited upon him: it admired its wisdom, and heard its prudent dictates and counsels-both the direction and the reward of its
obedience.  It is indeed the nature of this faculty to follow a superior guide-to be drawn by the intellect; but then it was drawn as a
triumphant chariot, which at the same time both follows and triumphs: while it obeyed this, it commanded the other faculties. It
was subordinate, not enslaved to the understanding: not as a servant to a master, but as a queen to her king, who both acknowledges
a subjection and yet retains a majesty.
Pass we now downward from man's intellect and will,
11. To the passions, which have their residence and situation
chiefly in the sensitive appetite. For we must know that inasmuch
as man is a compound, and mixture of flesh as well as spirit, the
soul, during its abode in the body, does all things by the mediation
of these passions and inferior a.ections. And here the opinion of
the stoics was famous and singular, who looked upon all these as
sinful defects and irregularities, as so many deviations from right
reason, making passion to be only another word for perturbation.
Sorrow in their esteem was a sin scarce to be expiated by another;
to pity, was a fault; to rejoice, an extravagance; and the Apostle's
advice, "to be angry and sin not," was a contradiction in their phi.
losophy. But in this they were constantly outvoted by other sects
of philosophers, neither for fame nor number less than themselves:
so that all arguments brought against them from divinity would




THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.                    293
come in by way of overplus to their confutation. To us let this be
sufficient, that our Saviour Christ, who took upon Him all our natural infirmities, but none of our sinful, has been seen to weep, to be
sorrowful, to pity, and to be angry: which shows that there might
be gall in a dove, passion without sin, fire without smoke, and motion without disturbance. For it is not bare agitation, but the sediment at the bottom, that troubles and defiles the water: and when
we see it windy and dusty, the wind does not (as we use to say)
make, but only raise a dust.
Now, though the schools reduce all the passions to these two
heads, the concupiscible and the irascible appetite, yet I shall not
tie myself to an exact prosecution of them under this division; but
at this time, leaving both their terms and their method to themselves, consider only the principal and most noted passions, fronm
whence we may take an estimate of the rest.
And first for the grand leading affection of all, which is love.
This is the great instrument and engine of nature, the bond and
cement of society, the spring and spirit of the universe. Love is
such an affection as can not so properly be said to be in the soul as
the soul to be in that. It is the whole man wrapped up into one
desire; all the powers, vigor, and faculties of the soul abridged into
one inclination. And it is of that active, restless nature that it must
of necessity exert itself; and, like the fire, to which it is so often
compared, it is not a free agent, to choose whether it will heat or
no, but it streams forth by natural results and unavoidable emanations. So that it will fasten upon any inferior, unsuitable object,
rather than none at all. The soul may sooner leave off to subsist
than to love; and, like the vine, it withers and dies if it has nothing
to embrace. Now this affection, in the state of innocence, was happily pitched upon its right object; it flamed up in direct fervors of
devotion to God, and in collateral emissions of charity to its neighbor. It was not then only another and more cleanly name for lust.
It had none of those impure heats that both represent and deserve
hell. It was a vestal and a virgin fire, and differed as much from
that which usually passes by this name now.a-days as the vital heat
from the burning of a fever.
Then for the contrary passion of hatred. This we know is the
passion of defiance, and there is a kind of aversation and hostility included in its very essence and being. But then (if there could have
been hatred in the world when there was scarce any thing odious)
it would have acted within the compass of its proper object. Like
aloes, bitter indeed, but wholesome. There would have been no




294                  ROBERT SOUTH.
rancor, no hatred of our brother: an innocent nature could hate
nothing that was innocent. In a word, so great is the commutation
that the soul then hated only that which now only it loves, that
is. sin.
And if we may bring anger under this head, as being, according
to some, a transient hatred, or at least very like it, this also, as unruly as now it is, yet then it vented itself by the measures of reason.
There was no such thing as the transports of malice, or the violences of revenge, no rendering evil for evil, when evil was truly a
nonentity, and nowhere to be found. Anger, then, was like the
sword of justice, keen, but innocent and righteous: it did not act
like fury, then call itself zeal. It always espoused God's honor,
and never kindled upon any thing but in order to a sacrifice. It
sparkled like the coal upon the altar with the fervors of piety,
the heats of devotion, the sallies and vibrations of a harmless activity.
In the next place, for the lightsome passion of joy. It was not
that which now often usurps this name; that trivial, vanishing,
superficial thing, that only gilds the apprehension and plays upon
the surface of the soul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns or
sudden blaze of the spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy or a
pleased appetite. Joy was then a masculine and a severe thing; the
recreation of the judgment, the jubilee of reason. It was the result of a real good, suitably applied. It commenced upon the solid.
ity of truth and the substance of fruition. It did not run out in
voice or indecent eruptions, but filled the soul, as God does the universe, silently and without noise. It was refreshing, but composed,
like the pleasantness of youth tempered with the gravity of age;
or the mirth of a festival managed with the silence of contempla
tion.
And, on the other side, for sorrow. Had any loss or disaster
made but room for grief, it would have moved according to the
severe allowances of prudence, and the proportions of the provocation. It would not have sallied out into complaint or loudness, nor
spread itself upon the face, and writ sad stories upon the forehead.
No wringing of hands, knocking the breast, or wishing one's self
unborn; all which are but the ceremonies of sorrow, the pomp and
ostentation of an effeminate grief, which speak not so much the
greatness of the misery as the smallness of the mind. Tears may
spoil the eyes, but not wash away the affliction. Sighs may exhaust
the man, but not eject the burden. Sorrow, then, woul I have been
as silent as thought, as severe as philosophy. It would have rested




THE IMAGE OF GOD IN  MAN.                   29M
in inward senses, tacit dislikes; and the whole scene of it been
transacted in sad and silent reflections.
Then again for hope. Though indeed the fullness and affluence
of man's enjoyments in the state of innocence might seem to leave
no place for hope, in respect of any future addition, but only of the
prorogation and future continuance of what already he possessed;
yet doubtless God, who made no faculty but also provided it with a
proper object upon which it might exercise and lay out itself, even
in its greatest innocence, did then exercise man's hopes with the ex.
pectations of a better paradise, or a more intimate admission to
Himself. For it is not imaginable that Adam could fix upon such
poor, thin enjoyments as riches, pleasure, and the gayeties of an animal life. Hope, indeed, was always the anchor of the soul, yet certainly it was not to catch or fasten upon such mud. And if, as the
Apostle says, "no man hopes for that which he sees," much less
could Adam then hope for such things as he saw through.
And, lastly, for the affection offear. It was then the instrument
of caution, not of anxiety; a guard, and not a torment to the breast
that had it. It is now indeed an unhappiness, the disease of the
soul: it flies from a shadow, and makes more dangers thatn it avoids;
it weakens the judgment and betrays the succors of reason: so hard
is it to tremble and not to err, and to hit the mark wiLh a shaking
hand. Then it fixed upon Him who is only to be fearn l, God; and
yet with a filial fear, which at the same time both fears and loves.
It was awe without amazement, dread without distraction. There
was then a beauty even in this very paleness. It was the color of
devotion, giving a luster to reverence and a gloss to hu mility.
Thus did the passions then act without any of their present jars,
combats, or repugnances; all moving with the beauty of uniformity and the stillness of composure. Like a well-governed army, not
for fighting, but for rank and order. I confess the Scripture does
not expressly attribute these several endowments to Adam in his
first estate. But all that I have said, and much more, may be drawn
out of that short aphorism, " God made man upright."  And since
the opposite weaknesses now infest the nature of man fallen, if we
will be true to the rules of contraries we must conclude that these
perfections were the lot of man innocent.
Now from this so exact and regular composure of the faculties,
all moving in their due place, each striking in its proper time, there
arose, by natural consequence, the crowning perfection of all, a good
conscience. For, as in the body, when the principal parts, as the heart
and liver, do their offices, and all the inferior, smaller vessels act




296                  ROBERT SOUTH.
orderly and duly, there arises a sweet enjoyment upon the whole
which we call health; so in the soul, when the supreme faculties of
the will and understanding move regularly, the inferior passions and
affections following, there arises a serenity and complacency upon
the whole soul infinitely beyond the greatest bodily pleasures, the
highest quintessence and elixir of worldly delights. There is in this
case a kind of fragrancy and spiritual perfume upon the conscience
much like what Isaac spoke of his son's garments, "That the scent
of them was like the smell of a field which the Lord had blessed."
Such a freshness and flavor is there upon the soul when daily watered
with the actions of a virtuous life. Whatsoever is pure is also
pleasant.
Having thus surveyed the image of God in the soul of man, we
are not to omit now those characters of majesty that God imprinted
upon the body. He drew some traces of His image upon this also,
as much as a spiritual substance could be pictured upon a corporeal.
As for the sect of the Anthropomorphites, who from hence ascribe to
God the figure of a man, eyes, hands, feet, and the like, they are too
ridiculous to deserve a confutation. They would seem to draw this
impiety from the letter of the Scripture sometimes speaking of God
in this manner. Absurdity I as if the mercy of Scripture expressions ought to warrant the blasphemy of our opinions; and not rather
to show us that God condescends to us only to draw us to Himself;
and clothes Himself in our likeness only to win us to His own. The
practice of the papists is much of the same nature, in their absurd
and impious picturing of God Almighty; but the wonder in them is
the less since the image of a deity may be a proper object for that
which is but the image of a religion. But to the purpose: Adam
was then no less glorious in his externals; he had a beautiful body,
as well as an immortal soul. The whole compound was like a well
built temple, stately without, and sacred within. The elements were
at perfect union and agreement in his body; and their contrary
qualities served not for the dissolution of the compound, but the
variety of the composure. Galen, who had no more divinity than
what his physic taught him, barely upon the consideration of this so
exact frame of the body, challenges any one, upon a hundred years'
study, to find how any the least fiber, or most minute particle, might
be more commodiously placed, either for the advantage of use or
comeliness. His stature erect, and tending upward to his center;
his countenance majestic and comely, with the luster of a native
beauty that scorned the poor assistance of art or the attempts of
imitation; his body of so much quickness and agility that it did not




THE IMAGE OF GOD IN MAN.                  297
only contain but also represent the soul; for we might well suppose
that where God did deposit so rich a jewel He would suitably adorn
the case. It was a fit work-house for sprightly, vivid faculties to
exercise and exert themselves in. A fit tabernacle for an immortal
soul, not only to dwell in, but to contemplate upon; where it might
see the world without travel, it being a lesser scheme of the creation,
nature contracted a little cosmography or map of the universe.
Neither was the body then subject to distempers, to die by piecemeal, and languish under coughs, catarrhs, or consumptions. Adam
knew no disease so long as temperance from the forbidden fruit
secured them. Nature was his physician, and innocence and abstinence would have kept him healthful to immortality.
Now the use of this point might be various, but at present it
shall be only this, to remind us of the irreparable loss that we
sustained in our first parents, to show us of how fair a portion Adam
disinherited his whole posterity by one single prevarication. Take
the picture of a man in the greenness and vivacity of his youth and
in the latter date and declensions of his drooping years, and you
will scarce know it to belong to the same person; there would be
more art to discern than at first to draw it. The same and greater
is the difference between man innocent and fallen. He is, as it were,
a new kind of species; the plague of sin has even altered his nature
and eaten into his very essentials. The image of God is wiped out,
the creatures have shaken off His yoke, renounced His sovereignty,
and revolted from His dominion. Distempers and diseases have
shattered the excellent frame of his body; and, by a new dispensation, " immortality is swallowed up of mortality." The same disaster
and decay also has invaded his spirituals; the passions rebel, every
faculty would usurp and rule, and there are so many governors that
there can be no government. The light within us is become darkness, and the understanding, that should be eyes to the blind faculty
of the will, is blind itself, and so brings all the inconveniences that
attend a blind follower under the conduct of a blind guide. He that
would have a clear ocular demonstration of this, let him reflect upon
that numerous litter of strange, senseless, absurd opinions, that crawl
about the world, to the disgrace of reason, and the unanswerable
reproach of a broken intellect,
The two great perfections that both adorn and exercise man's
understanding, are philosophy and religion: for the first of these,
take it even among the professors of it where it most flourished, and
we shall find the very first notions of common sense debauched by
them. For there have been suoh as have asserted "That there




298                  ROBERT SOUTH.
is no such thing in the world as motion: that contradictions may be
true." There has not been wanting one that has denied snow to be
white. Such a stupidity or wantonness had seized upon the most
raised wits that it might be doubted whether the philosophers or
the owls of Athens were the quicker sighted. But then for religion;
what prodigious, monstrous, misshapen births has the reason of
fallen man produced I It is now almost six thousand years that far
the greatest part of the world has had no other religion but idolatry: and idolatry certainly is the first-born of folly, the great and
leading paradox, nay, the very abridgment and sum total of all absurdities. For is it not strange that a rational man should worship
an ox, nay, the image of an ox? That he should fawn upon his
dog?  Bow himself before a cat?  Adore leeks and garlic, and
shed penitential tears at the smell of a deified onion?  Yet so did
the Egyptians, once the famed masters of all arts and learning.
And to go a little further, we have yet a stranger instance in Isaiah,
" A man hews him down a tree in the wood, and a part of it he burns,
with the residue thereof he maketh a god." With one part he furnishes his chimney, with the other his chapel. A strange thing that
the fire must first consume this part and then burn incense to that.
As if there was more divinity in one end of the stick than in the
other; or, as if it could be graved and painted omnipotent, or the
nails and the hammer could give it an apotheosis. Briefly, so great
is the change, so deplorable the degradation of our nature, that
whereas before we bore the image of God, we now retain only the
image of men.
In the last place, we learn from hence the excellency of Christian religion, in thatit is the great and only means that God has
sanctified and designed to repair the breaches of humanity, to set
fallen man upon his legs again, to clarify his reason, to rectify his
will, and to compose and regulate his affections. The whole business of our redemption is, in short, only to rub over the defaced
copy of the creation, to reprint God's image upon the soul, and, as
it were, to set forth nature in a second and a fairer edition.
The recovery of which lost image, as it is God's pleasure to
command, and our duty to endeavor, so it is in His power only to
effect.
To whom be rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise,
might, n ajesty and dominion, both now and for evermore. Amen,




DISCOURSE TWENTYSECOND.
BENJAMIN KEACH.
THis old divine, rendered famous by his sufferings for the truth's
sake, and his " Scripture Metaphors," "Travels of True Godliness," etc.,
was born in Stakehaman, Buckinghamshire, February 29th, 1640. He
died in London, July, 1704; where he had held the pastoral office, as
Baptist minister for thirty-six years. There were published of his writings, before his death, forty-seven different works; three in folio, six in
quarto, and many in octavo and smaller forms; all of which are now
exceedingly rare.
Keach was a bold and zealous preacher during the reign of Charles the
Second, and his influence was so great that he incurred the most bitter persecution. Frequently was he seized and committed to prison; and, on
one occasion he came near being put to death by means of the trampling under foot of dragoons of horsemen. In 1664 he was sentenced
to the pillory for publishing a work called" The Child's Instructor, or
a New and Easy Primer."  While in the pillory, he said, "The way
to the crown is by the cross."  "This is one yoke of Christ's, which I
experience is easy to me, and a burden which He doth make light."
He added, "I do account this the greatest honor that ever the Lord
was pleased to confer on me." Keach was a strong writer. exceedingly
rich in Scriptural illustration, and in the clear and forcible presentation
of the Gospel doctrines. The sermon which follows, besides its intrinsic
merit, has an additional value at the present time, when pretended revelations are foisted upon society, to gainsay or supersede the word of
of the living God. Some preliminary and inferential matter is here
omitted.
THE SCRIPTURES SUPERIOR TO ALL SPIRITUAL
MANIFESTATIONS.
" And he said, If they will not hear Moses and the prophets, neither will they be
persuaded though one rose from the dead." —LuKE, xvi. 31.
I shall endeavor to prove from these words that the Holy Scriptures, in the ministration thereof, have far more efficacy to bring




800                BENJAMIN KEACH.
men to believe and repent than immediate revelation, or appartion
from the dead.
L For the proof of this truth I shall first show the uncertainty of
the evidence of all other pretended ways.
1. Suppose a man pretends to immediate invpiration or revelad
lion, by which he says he knows the truth, or the only way to be
aved, and hew to worship God. How can we be assured that what
he says is a true and infallible revelation? For perhaps twenty
men may all teach contrary doctrine one to the other, yet all pretend to immediate revelation, or inspiration of God: how then shall
any inquiring person be assured which of these are truly inspired?
One may say, I witness it in myself and know it is of God. Well,
and so all: how then is the doubting person left at an utter uncertainty I
For unless one or another of this sort who pretends to imme.
diate inspiration can do such things to confirm his mission which
no imposter can, he is not in the least to be regarded. What must
he do? He must work real miracles, as raise the dead, or open the
eyes of one that was born blind, by that Spirit of which he pretends to be led. And if he can not do such things, he can do no
more than any deceiver can pretend to.
Consider that Almighty God Himself, who is a free Agent, and
under no obligation to His creatures, never gave forth but two
religions, or two sorts of public worship, laws and ordinances-the
first was the Jewish religion, and the second the Christian —neither
of these He imposed on His people without confirming them by
signs and wonders.
The first was given forth by Moses. And what amazing miracles
and wonders did he work in Egypt before Pharaoh, and at the Red
Sea, to prove his mission, or that he was sent from God I None
could do the like. Though Jannes and Jambres withstood him, and
strove to do the like, yet at last they were forced to cry out it was
"the finger of God."
Moreover, when the time of the Jewish worship and their Church.
state was expiring, and our Lord was sent from heaven to give forth
the doctrine of the New Testament, what wonderful miracles did
He work to prove He was sent from heaven I He also said, " If I
do not the works that no other man can do, believe Me not. The
works that I do, they bear witness of Me." They proved that the
Father sent Him, and that His doctrine was of God. "Or else be.
lieve Me for My works' sake."
2 Suppose a man should say he is comeefrom the dead, either from




THE SUPERIORITY OF THE SCRIPTURES               801
heaven or hell, who will believe him? He may be an imposter, a
liar. He is not to be regarded unless he works miracles. To con.
firm what he says, he must raise the dead and open the eyes of
such as were born blind, or such like wonderful works which no
deceiver can do. For the devils and all lying spirits can work no
real miracles; they are all " lying signs and wonders." Were not
this so, the world were left in a woeful condition. Besides, then th
miracles that our Lord wrought could be no infallible evidence that
He was the Son of God, and sent by Him, and His doctrine was
from heaven.
8. Suppose one should really come from the dead, and preach to
sinners, and tell them what they should do to be saved, yet his testimony~could be only the testimony of a mere human creature. But
the sacred Scriptures are the Word of God. "' All scripture is given
by inspiration of God." Nay, the doctrine of the Gospel, or word
of the New Testament, was spoken by Christ Himself, the Son of
God from heaven. He, in His own person and with His own mouth,
gave it forth as He received it from the Father, and confirmed it by
wonderful miracles. Which should we soonest believe, or is of the
greatest authority, what the Son of God Himself spake, or what a
human spirit should declare?
II. But the grand argument is, that that way or that means which
God hath ordained or appointed, as the ordinary and most effectual
way or means for the conversion of sinners, hath a Divine power
and efficacy in it above all or any other way or means whatso.
ever to effect that great end. But God hath ordained the sacred
Scriptures as read, especially as preached by His faithful ministers, as the ordinary way and most effectual means for the con.
version of sinners: therefore the Scriptures, as so read and preached,
have a real and Divine power and efficacy above all or any
other means whatever to effect that great end. Will God leave
His own ordinance, and own an ordinance of man's devising, or
cause that to succeed, to answer to the end proposed by Himself
in His own institution? No. The rich man in hell magnifies the
apparition of a spirit, concluding that what one that riseth from the
dead might declare could have more effect on his brethren than the
written Word. But certainly that way or means God hath ordained
to such or such an end, He will bless, and own for the effecting of
His own gracious design, above any way or means beside.
For the confirmation of this, see what the Apostle John saith:
" Many other signs truly did Jesus, in the presence of His disciples,
which are not written in this book. But these are written that ye




802                BENJAMIN KEACH.
might believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that, believing, ye might have life through His name." The reason why
the doctrines and miracles of our blessed Saviour are written in the
book of the New Testament, is that we might believe. " How shall
they call on Him in whom they have not believed? and how shall
they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? and how shall
they hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach except
they be sent?" 1. Faith comes by hearing the Gospel preached, as
the ordinary way God hath ordained. 2. They must be such that
preach it whom God hath ordained and sent. Now, either He hath
ordained His angels or mortal men to preach it; or else the spirits
of them who are dead. But God bath not ordained His angels to
preach it, nor the spirits of men that are dead; wherefore He hath
ordained and sent mortal men, whom He hath gifted to that end, to
be the preachers thereof. First, He chose the twelve disciples, and
sent them forth to preach it; afterward He sent out the seventy.
He said to them, "Behold, I send you the promise of my Father;
but tarry ye in the city of Jerusalem until ye be endued with
power from on high."  Also it is said, " When He ascended up on
high, He led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men"-not to
angels, nor to the spirits of the dead. " And He gave some apostles,
and some prophets and evangelists, and some pastors and teachers."
The first had an extraordinary mission and call; such offices as
apostles and extraordinary prophets and evangelists none can pretend to have since the extraordinary gifts ceased; but pastors and
teachers remain in the Church to the end of the world, and they
preach by virtue of those gifts Christ received and gave when He
ascended up on high.
III. That " word" that is more sure than "the voice which came
from the excellent glory" in the holy mount, must be of the greatest
authority and most powerful efficacy to believe and repent. But
the Holy Scripture is " a more sure word," and hence is of the greatest authority, and hath more power and efficacy in it to bring men
to believe and repent.  "For we have not followed cunninglydevised fables, when we made known unto you the power and coming
of our Lord Jesus Christ, but were eye-witnesses of His majesty.
For He received from God the Father honor and glory, when there
came to Him such a voice from the excellent glory, This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased. And this voice, which came
from heaven, all heard, when we were with Him in the holy mount.
We have also a more sure word of prophecy, whereunto ye do well
that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until




THE SUPERIORITY OF THE SCRIPTURES.   803
the day dawn and the day-star arise in your hearts."  Well, and
what is that more sure word? See the next verse: " Knowing this
first, that no prophecy of Scripture is of any private interpretaticu.
For prophecy came of old time, not by the will of man, but holy
men of God spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost."
Know this then first, namely, the rule of your faith and practice;
first and principally, above all things, as the great article of your
faith, that the Holy Scripture is of divine authority; and is to be
preferred above that glorious voice heard in the mount; and hence
far above all pretended visions, new inspirations, spirits, or any
other means whatsoever that any can pretend unto.
And this doctrine, contained herein and as a sure rule, remains
until Christ, the morning star, comes in His glory, when our
hearts shall be perfectly illuminated. No one place of the Scriptures is to be interpreted by men's own spirits, or is of any
private interpretation, contrary to what is confirmed by other Scriptures. God being the Author of it, all agrees and sweetly harmonizes, though from the ignorance of men and the delusions of Satan,
some understand them not, and others wrest them to their own destruction. But not that we are to conceive no man is to interpret the
Scriptures unless he hath received extraordinary gifts of the Spirit,
or the knowledge of the tongues; for the Scripture may be understood of the ignorant, by comparing one Scripture with another, and
the Scripture itself is the best interpreter of Scripture.
IV. If we read of many thousands that have been converted by
preaching the Gospel, or by the unerring word of God, and not one
converted by the spirit of any of the dead, or by any spirit whatsoever teaching directly contrary to those sacred oracles, or by pretended immediate inspiration, not referring to them; then the Scripture, or the preaching of God's written word, hath the only authority
or efficacy in it, through the Spirit of Christ, which always teaches
according to it. But we read of thousands this way converted; and
not of any converted by the spirit of any that came from the dead;
nor by immediate inspiration; or by a spirit that teacheth directly
contrary to those sacred oracles.
Such as pretend that they were converted by any spirit, light, or
inspiration, of or by any spirit that speaks not according to this
word, it is a lying spirit. No light is there; but they are deluded
and deceived by the devil.
V. If the Holy Scriptures be not the certain way and means of
faith and practice, or of faith and repentance, then G(od hath left wu
nc certain rule or means. And be sure that can not stand consistent




804                BENJAMIN KEACH.
with the wisdom, goodness, mercy, honor and faithfulness of the
holy God. If any say God hath left a certain rule for our faith be
sides the Scriptures, let them prove it by such evidences as are infallibly certain; that no man led thereby can be deceived. I deny not
that God may convert men by afflictions, etc.; yet He makes use
still of the written word in the light and promises thereof.
If no man or spirit is to be regarded, unless they speak according to the written word of God, then the Holy Scripture is the only
rule and ordinary means answering the great end pleaded for. But
that this is so, see Isaiah, " And when they shall say unto you, Seek
unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that peep and
mutter; should not people seek unto their God? To the law and to
the testimony. If they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them."
If the Holy Scriptures are every way sufficient in respect of
faith, practice and salvation, then the Holy Scriptures have the
only efficacy in them for this great end. That this is so, see what
the Apostle says to Timothy, " From a child thou hast known the
Holy Scriptures, which are able to make thee wise unto salvation,
through faith which is in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is given by
inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for
correction, for instruction in righteousness; that the man of God
may be perfect, thoroughly furnished with all good works."
I might add that the personal ministry of our Saviour, could it
be enjoyed again, would be ineffectual to them on whom the written
word hath none effect. He Himself says: "Had you believed
Moses, you would have believed Me, for he wrote of Me; but if you
believe not his writings, how shall you believe My words?" O how
doth our Lord magnify the written word I There is the same reason
why Christ's word should not be believed by such as believed no
Moses's writings, who confirmed his mission by miracles, as our Sa.
viour did His. You, therefore, that despise the written word of
God, should Christ come again and preach to you in such a state and
condition as He appeared when on earth, you would not believe on
Him.
Let us then highly prize the word of God, and beware of Satan's
designs in laboring to render it of little worth, by stirring up some
to magnify natural religion above that holy religion revealed in the
blessed Gospel of our dearest Lord; and in stirring up others to cry
up the light in all men, as the only rule of faith and practice, and
their foolish and erroneous books above the blessed Bible. " God
hath magnified His word above all His name." Though perhaps the




THE SUPERIOR:tY OF T WE SCRIPTURES.              30b
incarnate word may be chiefly meant thereby, yet what way of revelation of God to His creatures hath God magnified as He hath His
written word, as above all manifesting God's name, by which He is
made known? For all other ways by which He is made known to
us fall short of that revelation we have of Him in His word.
Let us all learn from hence to bless God that He hath afforded us the
best and most effectual means to believe in Him, and to turn our souls
from our evil ways that so we might be eternally saved. And let
none once think in their hearts that if God would raise one from the
dead to preach unto them, that they should be persuaded to leave
their sinful ways and receive Jesus Christ, or that that would be a
more effectual means to awaken them, and work upon their hearts
and consciences. " For if they will not believe Moses and the
prophets (or Christ's written word) neither will they be persuaded
though one rose from the dead."




DISCOURSE TWENTYTHIRD
FRANCIS ATTERBURY, D. D.
ATTERBURY was born in 1662, and educated at Westminster School,
and Christ Church, Oxford. After being lecturer at St. Bridge's, London,
he became Chaplain to William and Mary, and in 1713 was appointed
Bishop of Rochester. Upon the accession of George First, his tide of
popularity feil, and becoming implicated in political affairs, he was ar.
rested as a traitor in 1722, confined in the Tower, and finally banished
his country. He died an exile, at Paris, in 1732.
Atterbury was a man of uncommon abilities, and great learning. As
a preacher he was unrivaled in his time, and to his brilliant sermons,
delivered from memory (in keeping with the most general custom
in the seventeenth century), his preferment is to be ascribed. His
sermons are pronounced to be models of exact method, strength of argument, weight of reflection, purity, and often vigor of language. His
periods are easy and elegant, and his style flowing and beautiful. Doddridge declares Atterbury (perhaps with somewhat of extravagance),
" the glory of our English orators."  The following is his criticism upon
his sermons. " In his writings we see language in its strictest purity and
beauty. There is nothing dark, nothing redundant, nothing deficient,
nothing misplaced. On the whole he is a model fbr courtly preachers."
Doddridge also names the sermon which is here given as one of his chief
productions.
THE TERRORS O! CONSCIENCE.
" At that time Herod the Tetrarch heard of the fame of Jesus, and said unto his
servants, this is John the Baptist, he is risen from the dead; and therefore mighty works
do show forth themselves in him. For Herod had laid hold on John and bound him, and
put him in prison," etc.-MATT. xiv. 1-3.
"The wicked (says the prophet) are like the troubled sea, when
it can not rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt." That is, men
of flagitious lives are subject to great uneasiness. Whatever calm




THE TERRORS OF CONSCIENCE.                  307
and repose of mind they may seem for a season to enjoy, yet anon
a quick and pungent sense of guilt (awakened by some accident)
rises like a whirlwind, ruffles and disquiets them throughout, and
turns'up to open view, from the very bottom of their consciences,
all the filth and impurity which hath settled itself there; a truth,
of which there is not perhaps, in the whole book of God, a more apt
and lively instance than that which the passage I have read from the
Evangelist sets before us. The crying guilt of John the Baptist's
blood sat but ill, no doubt, on the conscience of ierod, from the
moment of his spilling it. However, his inward anguish and remorse was stifled and kept under for a tiine, by the splendor and
luxury in which he lived, till he heard of the fame of Jesus, and
then his heart smote him at the remembrance of the inhuman treatment he had given to such another just and good man, and wrung
from him a confession of what he felt, by what he uttered on that
occasion: He said unto his servant, "this is John the Baptist I He
is risen from the dead! And therefore mighty works do show forth
themselves in him." There could not be a wilder imagination than
this, or which more betrayed the agony and confusion of thought
under which he labored. He had often heard John the Baptist
preach, and must have known that the drift of all his sermons was,
to prepare the Jews for the reception of a prophet, " mightier than
him, and whose shoes he was not worthy to bear." Upon the arrival
of that Prophet soon afterward, Herod's frightened conscience gives
him no leisure to recollect what his messenger had said, but immediately suggests to him that this was the murdered Baptist himself!
Herod, as appears from history, was, though circumcised, little better 
than an heathen in his principles and practices; or, if sincerely a
Jew, was, at most, but of the sect of the Sadducees, who said " there
was no resurrection;" and yet, under the present pangs and terrors
of his guilt, he imagines that John was risen from the dead, on purpose to reprove him. It was the Baptist's distinguishing character
that he did no miracles, nor pretended to the power of doing them;
and yet even from hence the disturbed mind of Herod concludes
that it must be he, because mighty works did show forth themselves
in him. And so great was his consternation and surprise, that it
broke out before those who should least have been witnesses of it; for
he whispers not his guilty fears to a bosom friend, to the partner of
his crime and of his bed, but forgets his high state and character,
and declares them to his very servants. Surely nothing can be more
just and apposite than the allusion of the Prophet in respect to this
wicked Tetrarch, " he is like the troubled sea, when it can not rest,




908               FRANCIS ATTERRUtRY
whose waters cast up mire and dirt."  And such is every one that
sins with a high hand against the clear light of his conscience; although he may resist the checks of it at first, yet he will be sure to
feel the lashes and reproaches of it afterward. The avenging' principle within us will certainly do its duty, upon any eminent breach
of ours, and make every flagrant act of wickedness, even in this life,
a punishment to itself.
With this general proposition the particular instance of the text
(duly opened and considered) will furnish us; and this proposition,
therefore, I now propose, by God's blessing, to handle and enforce.
And in order to fix a due, lively, and lasting sense of it upon our
minds, I shall, in what follows, consider conscience, not as a mere
intellectual light or informing faculty, a dictate of the practical understanding (as the phrase of the schools is), which directs, admonishes, and influences us in what we are to do; but as it acts back
upon the soul, by a reflection on what we have done, and is, by that
means, the force and cause of all that joy or dejection of mind, of
those internal sensations (if I may so speak) of pleasure or pain,
which attend the practice of great virtues or great vices, and begin
that heaven and that hell in us here which will be our future and
eternal portion hereafter. "The spirit (or conscience) of man is the
candle of the Lord," which not only discovers to us, by its light,
wherein our duty consists, but revives also, and cheers us with its
bright beams, when we do well; and when we do ill, is as a burning
flame, to scorch and consume us.
As such I shall consider it in my present discourse; wherein,
L I shall endeavor to illustrate this plain but weighty truth (for
indeed it needs illustration only, and not proof), by some consider.
ations drawn from Scripture, reason, and experience.
II. I shall account for a particular and pressing difficulty that
seems to attend the proof of it. And,
III. Lastly, I shall apply it to (the proper object of all our admonitions from the pulpit, but most especially of this) the hearts and
consciences of the hearers.
1. I am to illustrate this truth by some considerations drawn
from Scripture, reason. and experience.
That guilt and anguish are inseparable, and that the punishment
of a man's sin begins always from himself, and from his own reflections, is a truth every where supported, appealed to, and inculcated
in Scripture. The consequence of the first sin that was ever com.
mitted in the world, is there said to have been, that our offending
parents perceived their own nakedness, and fled from the presence




THE TERRORS OF CONSCIENCE.                   s
of God: that is, a conscious shame and fear succeeded in tbe room
of lost innocence, and the presages of their own minds, those auguria
pcenaefuturce (of which even the heathen moralists speak), anticipated
the sentence of Divine vengeance. In relation to this office of
conscience, it is that the inspired writers speak of it (in terms borrowed from the awful solemnities of human judicatories) as bearing
witness against us, as accusing or excusing, judging and condemning
us. And the Prophet therefore adds this woe to the other menaces
which he had denounced on a disobedient and profligate people,
"that their own wickedness should correct them, and their backsliding should reprove them." A correction so severe and terrible
that Solomon, balancing the outward afflictions of life and bodily
pains with the inward regrets and torments of a guilty mind, pronounces the former of these to be light and tolerable in comparison
of the latter: " The spirit of a man (says he) will sustain his infirmities, but a wounded spirit who can bear?  Isaiah describes the dismal reflections and foreboding thoughts that harbor in such a breast,
after this manner: " The sinners of Sion are afraid, fearfulness hath
surprised the hypocrites I Who shall dwell with devouring flames?
Who shall dwell with everlasting burnings?" But no part of Scripture gives us so lively an account of this inward scene of dejection
and horror as the Psalms of penitent David. In one of them particularly he thus complains: "Mine iniquities are gone over my
head, as an heavy burden; they are too heavy for me. I am feeble
and sore broken, I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my
heart. I am troubled, I am bowed down greatly: I go mourning all
the day long. My heart panteth, my strength faileth me; and as
for the light of mine eyes, it is also gone from me. For Thine arrows
stick fast in me, and Thy hand presseth me sore. There is no sound.
ness in my flesh, because of Thine anger; neither is there any rest
in my bones, because of my sin."
This is the expressive language of Holy Writ when it would let
out to us the disorders and uneasiness of a guilty, self-condemning
mind. And,
2. There is nothing in these representations particular to the times
and persons on which they point: nothing but what happens alike
to all men in like cases, and is the genuine and necessary result of
offending against the light of our consciences. Nor is it possible
indeed, in the nature of the thing, that matters should be otherwise.
It is the way in which guilt doth and must always operate. For
moral evil can no more be committed than natural evil can be suffered without anguish and disquiet. Whatever doth violence to the




810              FRANCIS ATTERBURY.
plain dictates of our reason concerning virtue and lice, duty and
sin, will as certainly discompose and afflict our thoughts as a wound
will raise a smart in the flesh that receives it. Good and evil,'vhether
natural or moral, are but other words for pleasure and pain, delight
and uneasiness. At least, though they may be distinguished in the
notion, yet are they not to be separated in reality: but the one o!
them, wherever it is, will constantly and uniformly excite and pro.
duce the other. Pain and pleasure are the springs of all human actions, the great engines by which the wise Author of our natures
governs and steers them to the purposes for which He ordained them.
By these, annexed to the perception of good and evil, he inclines ue
powerfully to pursue the one and to avoid the other; to pursue
natural good, and to avoid natural evil, by delightful or uneasy sens.
ations that immediately affect the body; to pursue moral good, and
to avoid moral evil, by pleasing or painful impressions made on the
mind. From hence it is that we so readily choose or refuse, do or
forbear, every thing that is profitable or noxious to us, and requisite
to preserve or perfect our beings. And because it is an end of far
greater importance, and more worthy of our all-wise Creator's care,
to secure the integrity of our moral, than of our natural perfections,
therefore He hath made the pleasures and pains, subservient to this
purpose, more extensive and durable; so that the inward complacence we find in acting reasonably and virtuously, and the disquiet
we feel from vicious choices and pursuits, is protracted beyond the
acts themselves from whence it arose, and renewed often upon our
souls by distant reflections; whereas the pleasures and pains attending the perceptions of natural good and evil are bounded within a
narrower compass, and do seldom stay long, or return with any force
upon the mind, after a removal of the objects that occasioned them.
Hence, then, the satisfactions or stings of conscience severally
arise. They are the sanctions, as it were, and enforcements of that
eternal law of good and evil to which we are subjected; the natural
rewards and punishments originally annexed to the observance or
breach of that law, by the great Promulger of it, and which being
thus joined and twisted together by God, can scarce by any arts,
endeavors, or practices of men, be put asunder. The prophet therefore explains good and evil by sweet and bitter: " Woe be to them,"
(says he) " that call evil good, and good evil! That put bitter for
sweet, and sweet for bitter!" Implying that the former of these do
as naturally and sensibly affect the soul as the latter do the palate,
and leave as grateful or displeasing a relish behind them. But,
8. There is no need of arguments to evince this truth; the uni



THE TERRORS OF CONSCIENCE.                  811
versal experience and feeling of mankind bears witness to it. For
say, did ever any of you break the power of a darling lust, resist a
pressing temptation, or perform any act of a conspicuous and dis
tinguished virtue, but that you found it soon turn to account to
you? Did not your minds swell with a secrect satisfaction at the
moment when you were doing it? And was not a reflection upon
it afterward always sweet and refreshing: "Health to your navel
and marrow to your bones?" On the contrary, did you ever indulge
a criminal appetite, or allow yourselves sedately in any practice
which you knew to be unlawful, but that you felt an inward struggle and strong reluctances of mind before the attempt, and bitter
pangs of remorse attending it? Though no eye saw what you did,
and you were sure that no mortal could discover it, did not shame
and confusion secretly lay hold of you?  Was not your own conscience instead of a thousand witnesses to you? " Did it not plead
with you face to face," as it were, and upbraid you with your backslidings? Have not some of you, perhaps at this instant, a sensible
experience of the truth which I am pressing upon you? Do you
not feel the operation of that powerful principle of which I am discoursing? Is not the memory of some of your past sins even now
present to you? And are not your minds stung with some degree
of that regret and uneasiness which followed upon the first commission of them? And do you not discover what passes within you,
by a more than ordinary attention, seriousness, and silence; and
even by an endeavor to throw off these visible marks of concern
into which you are surprised, as soon as they are observed?
The jolly and voluptuous livers, the men who set up for freedom
of thought, and for disengaging themselves from the prejudices of
education, and superstitious opinions, may pretend to dispute this
truth, and perhaps, in the gayety of their hearts, may venture even
to deride it: but they can not, however, get rid of their inward convictions of it; they must feel it sometimes, though they will not
own it. There is no possibility of reasoning ourselves out of our
own experience, or of laughing down a principle woven so closely
into the make and frame of our natures. Notwithstanding our endeavors to conceal and stifle it, it will break out sometimes, and discover itself, to a careful observer, through all our pretenses and
disguises, for even " in the midst of such a laughter the heart is sorrowful; and as the beginning of that mirth was folly, so the end
of it is always heaviness."
Look upon one of these men who would be thought to have
made his ill practices and ill principles perfectly consistent, to have




812               FRANCIS ATTERBURY.
shaken off all regard to the dictates of his own mind, concerning
good and evil, and to have gotten above the reproofs of his con.
science, and you will find a thousand things in his actions and discourses testifying against him that "' he deceiveth himself, and that
the truth is not in him." If he be indeed, as he pretends, at ease
in his enjoyments, from whence come those disorders and unevenness in his life and conduct, those vicissitudes of good and bad humor, mirth and thoughtfulness; that perpetual pursuit of little,
mean, insipid amusements; that restless desire of changing the
scene, and the objects of his pleasures; those sudden eruptions of
passion and rage upon the least disappointments?  Certainly all is
not right within, or else there would be a greater calm and serenity
without. If his mind were not in an unnatural situation, and under
contrary influences, it would not be thus tossed and disquieted. For
what reason doth he contrive for himself such a chain and succession of entertainments, and take care to be delivered over from one
folly, one diversion, to another, without intermission? Why, but
because he dreads to leave any void spaces of life unfilled, lest conscience should find work for his mind at those intervals?  EHe hath
no way to fence against guilty reflections but by stopping up all the
avenues at which they might enter. Hence his strong addiction to
company, his aversion to darkness and solitude, which re-collect the
thoughts, and turn the mind inward upon itself, by shutting out external objects and impressions. It is not because the pleasures of
society are always new and grateful to him that he pursues them
thus keenly, for they soon lose their relish, and grow flat and insipid
by repetition. They are not his choice, but his refuge; for the truth
is, he dares not long converse with himself, and with his own
thoughts, and the worst company in the world is better to him than
that of a reproving conscience.
A lively and late proof of this we had in a certain writer, who
set up for delivering men from these vain fantastic terrors, and
was, on that account, for a season, much read and applauded. But
it is plain that he could not work that effect in himself which he
pretended to work in others; for his books manifestly show that
his mind was overrun with gloomy and terrible ideas of dominion
and power, and that he wrote in a perpetual fright against those
very principles which he pretended to contradict and deride. And
such as knew his conversation well, have assured us that nothing
was so dreadful to him as to be in the dark, and to give his natural
fears an opportunity of recoiling upon him. That he was timorous
to an excess is certain; he himself owns it, in the account which he




THE TERRORS OF CONSCIENCE.                 813
wrote of himself, and which is in every one's hands: but he did not
care to own the true reason of it, and therefore lays it upon a mighty
fright which seized his mother when the Spaniards attempted their
famous invasion in the year 1588, the year in which he was born.*
The more probable account of it is that it naturally sprung from
his own conduct and method of thinking. He had been endeavoring all his lifetime to get rid of those religious principles under
which he was carefully educated by his father (a divine of the
Church of England), and to set up for a new system and sect which
was to be built upon the ruins of all those truths that were then,
and had ever been, held sacred by the best and wisest of men. It
is vanity pushed him on to this attempt, but he could not compass.
it. He was able, here and there, to delude a superficial thinker
with his new terms and reasonings; but the hardest talk of all was,
thoroughly to deceive himself. His understanding could not be
completely imposed upon, even by its own artifices; and his conscience, every now and then, got the better of him in the struggle;
so he lived in a perpetual suspicion and dread of the reality of those
truths which he represented as figments; and while he made sport
with that kingdom of darkness (as he loved to call another world),
trembled in good earnest at the thought of it.
Tiberius, that complete pattern of wickedness and tyranny, had
taken as much pains to conquer these fears as any man, and had as
many helps and advantages toward it from great splendor and
power, and a perpetual succession of new business and new pleas.
ures; and yet as great a master of the art of dissimulation as he
was, he could not dissemble the inward sense of his guilt, nor prevent the open eruptions of it, upon very improper occasions-Witness that letter which he wrote to the senate, from his impure
retreatment at Capreae. Tacitus has preserved the first lines cf it,
and there can not be a livelier image of a mind filled with wild distraction and despair, than what they afford us. "What, or how, at
this time, I shall write to you, fathers of the senate, or what indeed
I shall not write to you, may all the powers of heaven confound me
yet worse than they have already done, if I know, or can imagine l"
And his observation upon it is well worthy of ours, and very appo,
site to our present purpose: "In this manner," says he, "was this
emperor punished by a reflection on his own infamous life and
guilt; nor was it in vain that the greatest master of wisdom (he
means Plato) affirmed that were the breast of tyrants once laid open
to our view, we should see there nothing but ghastly wounds and
* The allusion here is to Thomas Hobbes.-[Ed.




314              FRANCIS ATTERBURY.
bruises: the consciousness of their own cruelty, lewdnoss, al d ill
conduct leaving as deep and bloody prints on their minds as the
strokes of the scourge do on the back of a slave. Tiberius (adds
he) confessed as much when he uttered these words; nor could his
high station, or even privacy and retirement itself, hinder him from
discovering to all the world the inward agonies and torments under
which he labored."  Thus that excellent historian.
Believe it, the tales of ghosts and specters were not (as is commonly said) the mere inventions of designing men to keep weak
minds in awe, nor the products only of a religious fear, degenerated
into melancholy and superstition; but wicked men, haunted with a
sense of their own guilt (as the cruel Tetrarch here in the text with
the Baptist's murder), were used to affright themselves with such
phantoms as these, and often mistook strong and terrible imaginations for real apparitions. Thus, I am sure, the author of the Book
of Wisdom very naturally accounts for them in his seventeenth
chapter; out of which I shall recite a large passage, very apposite to
the point which we are now handling. He is there with great ele.
gance describing that panic fear which seized the impious Egyptians,
when (as he speaks) " they were fettered with the bonds of a long
night, and shut up in their houses the prisoners of darkness. Then
(says he) they who supposed that they lay hid in their secret sins
were horribly astonished and troubled with strange sights. For
neither might the corner that held them keep them from fear, but
noises, as of waters falling down, sounded about them, and sad
visions appeared unto them with heavy countenances. And they
that promised to drive away terrors and troubles from a sick soul
(the men, we may suppose, who set up for confounding the notions
of good and evil, and ridiculing conscience), were sick themselves
of fear worthy to be laughed at. For though no terrible thing did
affright them, yet being feared by beasts that passed by, and hissing
of serpents, they died for fear, refusing to look upon the air, which
on no side could be avoided. For wickedness (as he concludes),
condemned by its own witness, is very timorous; and, being pressed
with conscience, always forecasteth grievous things."
I know it will be said that though this be often, yet it is not al.
ways the case; since we have now and then instances of men who
lead very flagitious lives, and yet feel not any of those qualms or
guirds of conscience, but do, in all appearance, live easily, and
sometimes even die calmly; which could not be (say the objectors)
if the principle of conscience, and the condemning power of it, were
natural to man  for it would then act like other natural principles,




THE TERRORS OF CONS CIENCE.                 315
universally, and without exception.  Having hitherto. therefore,
illustrated this truth by observations drawn from Scripture, reason,
and experience, I proceed now on my
Second general head, to account for this difficulty which attends
the pruof of it. In order to it,
1. I observe, that we are deceived often in the judgments we
pass on such occasions. In our common intercourse with the world
we see only the outside and surface, as it were, of men's actions, but
can not tell how it is with them inwardly, and at the bottom. We
frame our opinions of them from what passes in conversation and
public places, where they may be upon their guard, acting a part,
and studying appearances. The hypocrite in perfection will put on
the mask so artificially that it shall seem to be real and natural.
Decency and a desire of esteem shall enable men to cover great passions and frailties, which nevertheless fit very close to them, and, as
soon as those restraints are taken off, break out with freedom. We
have read of those who have been endued with such a constancy
and firmness of temper as even to endure the rack, and to appear
composed under the pains of it, without owning their crime, or declaring their accomplices. And, in like manner, the torments of a
guilty conscience may sometimes be borne and dissembled. I ob
serve,
2. That the disorders and reprehensions of conscience are not a
continued but an intermitting disease, returning upon the mi:ld
by fits and at particular seasons only; in the intervals of which
the patient shall have seeming health and real ease. The eruptions of burning mountains are not perpetual, nor doth even the
smoke itself ascend always from the tops of them; but though
the seeds of fire lodged in their caverns may be stifled and suppressed for a time, yet anon they gather strength, and break ou
again with a rage great in proportion to its discontinuance. It is by
accidents and occasions chiefly that the power of this principle is
called forth into act; by a sudden ill turn of fortune, or a fit of sickness, or our observation of some remarkable instance of Divine
vengeance, which hath overtaken other men in like cases. Even
Herod was not always under the paroxysm described in the text,
but surprised into it unawares, by his "hearing of the farme of
Jesus," and then his heart smote him at the remembrance of the inhuman treatment he had given to such another just and good person, and filled his mind anew with forgotten horrors. We can not,
therefore,. from a present calm of thought, know either how it hath
been with a man heretofore or how it shall be with him hereafter,




316              FRANCIS ATTERBURY.
but may easily, in such cases, and do often judge wrong judgment,
saying, " Peace, peace, where there is no peace," but a truce only;
and where it will appear that there was none whenever affliction
ruffles a man's soul, or a death-bed rouses him. Then (and some.
times not till then) all masks and disguises are thrown off, and the
mind appears naked and unguarded to itself and others.
But I forbear, since there remains yet the
Third and last part of my task, to apply what hath been said
to the proper object of all our admonitions from the pulpit (and
particularly of this) the hearts and consciences of the hearers. Since
therefore, the wise Author of our natures hath so contrived them
that guilt is naturally and almost necessarily attended with trouble
and uneasiness, let us even from hence be persuaded to preserve the
purity, that we may preserve the peace and tranquillity of our minds.
For pleasure's sake let us abstain from all criminal pleasures and
pollutions, because the racking pains of guilt, duly awakened, are
really an overbalance to the greatest sensual gratifications. The
charms of vice (how tempting soever they may seem to be) are by
no means equivalent to the inward remorse and trouble, and the tormenting reflections which attend it, which always keep pace with
our guilt, and are proportioned to the greatness and daringness of
our crimes; for, " mighty sinners (here as well as hereafter) shall be
mightily tormented." Sins of omission, infirmity and surprise, there
will be; even the just man falls " seven times a day" by them, and
rises again from them with strength and cheerfulness to his duty.
But let us be sure carefully to guard against all such flagrant enormities as do violence to the first and plainest dictates of our reason,
and overbear the strongest impulses of our conscience, for these will
certainly leave a wound behind them which we shall find hard to
bear, and harder, much harder to cure. Let no temptation, no interest, no influence whatsoever, sway us to do any thing contrary to
the suggestions of conscience in plain cases, and points of moment.
Let us no more dare to do in private what that tells us ought not to
be done than if we were upon an open theater, and the eyes of the
whole creation were upon us. What signifies it that we escape the
view and observation of men, when the watchful witness within sees
and records all our faults, and will certainly one day reprove us, and
set our misdeeds in order before us?
It hath been reckoned a good rule for a happy conduct of life,
to be sure of keeping our domestic concerns right, and of being easy
under our own roof, where we may find an agreeable retreat and




THE TERRORS OF CONSCIENCE.                 317
shelter from any disappointment we meet with in the great scene
of vexation, the world. And the same rule will, with greater
reason, hold in relation to the peace of our consciences. Let our
first care be to keep all quiet and serene there. When this point is
once gained at home, external accidents will not be able deeply to
affect us; and unless it be gained, all the pleasures, the abundance
and pomp of life, will be insipid and tasteless to us.
Wherefore, let us resolve, all of us, to stick to that principle
which will keep us easy when we are alone, and will stick to us in
an hour when all outward comforts fail us. Let those of us particularly cherish it who are in any degree placed above the rest
of our neighbors by a superiority of parts, power, riches, or any other
outward distinctions. Let those chiefly listen to this reprover who
are otherwise set in great measure above reproof. The more desti.
tute they are of advice and correction from others, the more careful
should they be to attend to the suggestions and whispers of this
inward monitor and friend. Though they value not the censures
passed by the vulgar on their actions, yet surely they can not slight
their own, nor do they stoop beneath themselves when they stoop
to themselves only, and to the inward dictates and persuasions of
their own minds. The marks of distinction they bear, though they
may enable them sometimes to sin with impunity as to men, yet will
they not secure them against the lashes of an avenging conscience,
which will find them out in their most secret retirements, can not be
forbid access nor dismissed without being heard, will make their way
to them as they did to Herod and Tiberius, through business or pleas.
ure, nay, even through guards and crowds, and all the vain forms
and ceremonies with which they may be surrounded.
In a word, let us "keep innocence, and do the thing which is
right;" for whatever other expedients toward happiness men may
take up with, yet that, and that only "will bring us pece at the
ilt. "




DISCOURSE  TWENTYFOURTHI.
JOHN WESLEY, A.M.
THE darkest age of England, within the last three hundred years,
wvas that which embraces the close of the seventeenth, and the first half
or two thirds -of the eighteenth centuries. Some learned and conscientious ministers there were; but the picture of a living divine of the
~hurch of England is scarcely overdrawn. "The state of religion in
the Established Church can only be compared to that of a frozen or
palsied carcass." "Few of the clergy preached Christ and Him crucified.
Many whose lives were decent and moral were notoriously Arians or
Socinians. Many were totally engrossed in secular pursuits. They
hunted, they shot, they drank, they swore, they fiddled, they farmed,
they toasted the Church and the king, and they thought little or nothing about saving souls. And as for the man who dared to preach the
doctrine of the Bible, the Articles, and the Homilies, he was sure to be
set down as an enthusiast and fanatic. The state of religion among the
Dissenters was only a few degrees better than the state of the Church."*
At a time like this arose Wesley and Whitefield —" the second Reformers of England." John Wesley was born at Epworth in Lincolnshire, on the 17th of June, 1703, and educated at the Charterhouse, and
Christ Church, Oxford. He was ordained in 1725 and a year later
elected fellow of Lincoln College, where he officiated as Greek Lecturer
and Moderator of the Classes. It was while supplying temporarily the
curacy at Wroote that Mr. Wesley obtained priest's orders. On returning to his college, himself and a few associates drew upon themselves
the name of Methodists from their staid religious habits. In 1735, he
visited this country on a mission to preach to the Indians and settlers in
Georgia; but from ill-health soon returned.
About this time Wesley became convicted of his unbelief, and, according to his biographers, it was on the 24th day of May, 1738 that he was
really and truly converted. He was soon received by Mr. Whitefield,
as a coadjutor in the work of field-preaching, which he had just before
introduced. The congregations were immense, and the foundations of
* J. C. Ryle, in Life and Labors of Whitefield.




THE GREAT ASSIZE.                        319
Methodism were then laid. Wesley and Whitefield soon separated or
the ground of doctrinal differences, but the former held on his way,
building meeting-houses, receiving accessions of lay preachers, and establishing societies all through the land, the number of which was augmented by the opposition and persecution incurred. The work of God
increased year by year; and Wesley, even when age was advancing,
till arose at four in the morning, preached several times each day, and
raveled four or five thousand miles a year, going once in two years
through England and Ireland. At the close of a ministry of sixty-five
years, and in the eighty-eighth year of his age he died in peace, exclaim.
ing among his last words, as he raised his death-stricken arm, " The best
of all is, God is with us.,"
The works of Wesley are published in sixteen volumes, octavo, besides
many miscellaneous productions. They show him to have made great
attainments as a scholar. He was a critic in the Greek language, and spoke
and wrote with fluency the Latin, the French and the Italian. There are
many passages in his writings which indicate a correct and elegant liter~ry taste, and great skill in logic. But his extensive usefulness is to be
ascribed, under God, to the depth of his piety, the fervency of his zeal,
his yearning pity for ignorant and wicked men, his meek endurance
under opposition, his patient toil, and the wonderful earnestness and
directness of his preaching. The sermon which follows was preached
at the assizes held before Sir Edward Clive, in St. Paul's Church, Bedford, March 10th, 1758, and published at the request of William Cole,
Esq., high sheriff, and others. Two or three Latin quotations are here
omitted.
THE GREAT ASSIZE.
" We shall all stand before the judgment-seat of Christ." —RoMANS, xiv. 10.
How many circumstances concur to raise the awfulness of the
present solemnity I The general concourse of people of every age,
sex, rank, and condition of life, willingly or unwillingly gathered
together, not only from the neighboring, but from  distant parts;
eriminals, speedily to be brought forth, and having no way to escape;
ocff.ers, waiting in their various posts, to execute the orders which
shall be given; and the representative of our gracious sovereign, whom
we so highly reverence and honor. The (occasion, likewise, of this
assembly, adds not a little to the solemnity of it: to bear and determine causes of every kind, some of which are of the most Important nature; on which depends no less than life or death; death that




820                   JOHN  WESLEY.
uncovers the face of eternity I It was, doubtless, in order to increase
the serious sense of these things, and not in the minds of the vulgar
only, that the wisdom of our forefathers did not disdain to appoint
even several minute circumstances of this solemnity. For these also,
by means of the eye or ear, may more deeply affect the heart: and
when viewed in this light, trumpets, staves, apparel, are no longer
trifling or significant, but subservient, in their kind and degree, to
the most valuable ends of society.
2. But, awful as this solemnity is, one far more awful is at hand.
For yet a little while, and " we shall all stand before the judgment
seat of Christ." " For, as I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow
to Me, and every tongue shall confess to God." And in that day
" every one of us shall give account of himself to God."
8. Had all men a deep sense of this, how effectually would it secure the interests of society!  For what more forcible motive can
be conceived to the practice of genuine morality, to a steady pursuit
of solid virtue, and a uniform walking in justice, mercy, and truth?
What could strengthen our hands in all that is good, and deter us
from all that is evil, like a strong conviction of this, "The judge
standeth at the door;" and we are shortly to stand before him?
4. It may not, therefore, be improper, or unsuitable to the design
of the present assembly, to consider,
I. The chief circumstances which will precede our standing before
the judgment-seat of Christ.
II. The judgment itself; and
III. A few of the circumstances which will follow it.
1. Let us, in the first place, consider the chief circumstances which
will precede our standing before the judgment-seat of Christ.
And, 1st, " God will show signs in the earth beneath," particularly
He will "arise to shake terribly the earth."  "The earth shall reel
to and fro like a drunkard, and shall be removed like a cottage."
"There shall be earthquakes" (not in divers only, but) "in al
places;" not in one only, or in a few, but in every part of the habit.
able world, even "such as were not since men were upon the earth,
so mighty earthquakes and so great."  In one of these "every
island shall flee away, and the mountains will not be found."
Meantime all the waters of the terraqueous globe will feel the
violence of those concussions; "the sea and waves roaring," with
such an agitation as had never been known before, since the hour
that " the fountains of the great deep were broken up," to destroy
the earth, which then "stood out of the water and in the water."
The air will be all storm and tempest, fill of dark vapors and pillars




THE GREAT ASSIZE.                     321
of smoke, resounding with thunder from pole to pole, and torn with
ten thousand lightnings. But the commotion will not stop in the
region of air; " the powers of heaven also shall be shaken. There
shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars;" those
fixed as well as those that move round them. "The sun shall be
turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and
terrible day of the Lord come."  "The stars shall withdraw their
shining," yea, and " fall from heaven," being thrown out of their
orbits. And then shall be heard the universal shout, from all the:
companies of heaven, followed by the "voice of the archangel."
proclaiming the approach of the Son of God and man, " and the
trumpet of God" sounding an alarm to all that sleep in the dust of
the earth. In consequence of this, all the graves shall open, and
the bodies of men arise. The sea, also, shall give up the dead which
are therein, and every one shall rise with "his own body;" his own
in substance, although so changed in its properties as we can not
now conceive. " For this corruptible will (then) put on incorruption,
and this mortal put on immortality." Yea, "' death and hades," the
invisible world, shall " deliver up the dead that are in them," so that
all who ever lived and died, since God created man, shall be raised
incorruptible and immortal.
II. At the same time, " the Son of man shall send forth His angels"
over all the earth; " and they shall gather His elect from the four
winds, from one end of heaven to the other." And the Lord Himself shall come with clouds, in His own glory, and the glory of His
Father, with ten thousand of His saints, even myriads of angels, and
shall sit upon the throne of His glory. "And before Him shall be
gathered all nations, and He shall separate them one from another,
and shall set the sheep (the good) on His right hand, and the goats
(the wicked) upon the left." Concerning this general assembly it is
that the beloved disciple speaks thus: " I saw the dead (all that had
been dead), small and great, stand before God. And the books
were opened, (a figurative expression, plainly referring to the manner of proceeding among men), and the dead were judged out of those
things which were written in the books, according to their works."
II. These are the chief circumstances which are recorded in the
oracles of God as preceding the general judgment. We are, secondly, to consider the judgment itself, so far as it hath pleased God
to reveal it.
1. The Person by whom God will judge the world is His onlybegotten Son, whose " goings forth are from everlasting;" " who is
God over all, blessed forever." Unto Him, being " the out-beaming
21




322                  JOHN WESLEY
*sf His Father s glory, the express image of His Person," the Fathei
"hath committed all judgment, because He is the Son of man;"
because, though He was "in the form of God, and thought it not
robbery to be equal with God, yet He emptied Himself, taking upon
Him the form of a servant, being made in the likeness of man;"
yea, because, " being found in fashion as a man, He humbled Himself (yet further), becoming obedient unto death, even the death of
the cross. Wherefore God hath highly exalted Him," even in His
human nature, and " ordained Him," as man, to try the children of
men, "to be the Judge both of the quick and dead;" both of those
who shall be found alive at His coming and of those who were before gathered to their fathers.
2. The time, termed by the prophet " the great and the terrible
day," is usually in Scripture styled " the day of the Lord." The
space from the creation of man upon the earth to the end of all
things, is " the day of the sons of men;" the time that is now passing over is properly " our day;" when this is ended, " the day of
the Lord" will begin. But who can say how long it will continue?
" With the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand
years as one day." And from this very expression some of the
ancient Fathers drew that inference that what is commonly called
the day of judgment would be a thousand years; and it seems they
did not go beyond the truth; very probably they did not come up
to it. For, if we consider the number of persons who are to be
judged, and of actions which are to be inquired into, it does not
appear that a thousand years will suffice for the transactions of that
day; so that it may not, improbably, comprise several thousand
years. But God shall reveal this also in its season.
3. With regard to the place where mankind will be judged, we
have no explicit account in Scripture. An eminent writer (but not
he alone: many have been of the same opinion) supposes it will be
on earth, where the works were done, according to which they shall
be judged; and that God will, in order thereto, employ the angels
of His strength
"To smooth and lengthen out the boundless space,
And spread an area for all human race."
But perhaps it is more agreeable to our Lord's own account of His
coming in the clouds to suppose it will be on earth, if not "' twice
a planetary height." And this supposition is not a little favored by
what St. Paul writes to the Thessalonians: " The dead in ChIist
shall rise first. Then we who remain alive shall be caught up to




THE GREAT ASSIZE.                     323
gether with them, in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air." So
that it Beems most probable the great white throne will be high exalted above the earth.
4. The persons to be judged who can count, any more than the
drops of rain or the sands of the sea? " I beheld," saith St. John,
" a great multitude, which no man can number, clothed with white
obes, and palms in their hands." How immense, then, must be the
total multitude of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues;
of all that hare sprung from the loins of Adam, since the world began till time shall be no more! If we admit the common supposition, which seems no ways absurd, that the earth bears at any one
time no less than four hundred millions of living souls, men, women,
and children, what a congregation must all these generations make
who hbave succeeded each other for seven thousand years I
"Great Xerxes's world in arms, proud Cannae's host,
They all are here; and here they all are lost,
Their numbers swell to be discerned in vain,
Lost as a drop in the unbounded main."
Every man, every woman, every infant of days that ever breathed
the vital air, will then hear the voice of the Son of God, and start
into life, and appear before Him. And this seems to be the natural
import of that expression, "the dead, small and great;" all universally, all without exception, all of every age, sex, or degree, all that
ever lived and died, or underwent such a change as will be equivalent with death. For long before that day the phantom of greatness
disappears and sinks into nothing. Even in the moment of death
that vanishes away. Who is rich or great in the grave?
5. And every man shall there "give an account of his own
works;" yea, a full and true account of all that he ever did while
in the body, whether it was good or evil.
Nor will all the actions alone of every child of man be then
brought to open view, but all their words; seeing " every idle word
which men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of
judgment;" so that "by thy words" as well as works, "thou shalt
be justified; and by thy words thou shalt be condemned." Will
not God then bring to light every circumstance also that accompa.
nied every word or action, and if not altered the nature, yet lessened
or increased the goodness or badness of them? And how easy is
this to Him who is " about our bed, and about our path, and spieth
out all our ways?" We know "the darkness is no darkness to
Him, but the night shineth as the day."




8324                 JOHN WESLEY.
6. Yea, He will bring to light, not the hidden works of darkness
only, but the very thoughts and intents of the hearts. And what
marvel? For He " searcheth the reins and understandeth all our
thoughts." " All things are naked and open to the eye of Him
with whom we have to do." "Hell and destruction are before Him,
without a covering. How much more the hearts of the children of
men?"
7. And in that day shall be discovered every inward working of
every human soul; every appetite, passion, inclination, affection,
with the various combinations of them, with every temper and disposition that constitute the whole complex character of each individual. So shall it be clearly and infallibly seen who was righteous
and who was unrighteous; and in what degree every action, or person, or character, was either good or evil.
"Then the King will say to them upon His right hand, Come
ye, blessed of My Father. For I was hungry, and ye gave Me
meat; thirsty, and ye gave Me drink; I was a stranger, and ye
took Me in; naked, and ye clothed Me." In like manner, all the
good they did upon earth will be recited before men and angelswhatsoever they had done either in word or deed, in the name or
for the sake of the Lord Jesus. All their good desires, intentions,
thoughts, all their holy dispositions, will also be then remembered;
and it will appear that though they were unknown or forgotten
among men, yet God noted them in His book. All their sufferings, likewise, for the name of Jesus, and for the testimony of
a good conscience, will be displayed, unto their praise from the
righteous Judge, their honor before saints and angels, and the in.
crease of that " far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
9. But will their evil deeds too (since, if we take in his whole
life, there is not a man on earth that liveth and sinneth not), will
these be remembered in that day, and mentioned in the great congregation? Many believe they will, and ask " Would not this imply
that their sufferings were not at an end, even whPn life ended —seeing they would still have sorrow and shame, and confusion of face
to endure?" They ask further, " How can this be reconciled with
God's declaration by the prophet,' If the wicked will turn from all
his sins that he hath committed, and keep all My statutes, and do
that which is lawful and right, all his transgressions that he hath
committed, they shall not be once mentioned unto him,' how is it
consistent with the promise which God has made to all who accept
of the Gospel covenant,'I will forgive their iniquities, and remember their sins no more,' or as the Apostle expresses it,' I will be




THE GREAT ASSIZE.                     826
merciful to their unrighteousness, and their sins and iniquities will T
remember no more?'"
10. It may be answered, it is apparently and absolutely necessary for the full display of the glory of God, for the clear and perfect manifestation of His wisdom, justice, power and mercy, toward
the heirs of salvation, that all the circumstances of this life should
be placed in open view, together with all their tempers, and all the
desires, thoughts, and intents of their hearts, otherwise how would
it appear out of what a depth of sin and misery the grace of God had
delivered them. And indeed if the whole lives of all the children
of men were not manifestly discovered, the whole amazing contexture of Divine Providence could not be manifested, nor should we
yet be able, in a thousand instances "to justify the ways of God to
man," unless our Lord's words were fulfilled in their utmost sense,
without any restriction or limitation, "There is nothing covered
that shall not be revealed, or hid that shall not be known," abundance of God's dispensations under the sun would still appear without their reasons. And then only when God hath brought to light
all the hidden things of darkness, whosoever were the actors therein,
will it be seen that wise and good were all His ways, that He saw
through the thick cloud, and governed all things by the wise counsels of His own will, that nothing was left to chance, or the caprice
of men, but God disposed all strongly and sweetly, and wrought all
into one connected chain of justice, mercy, and truth.
11. And in the discovery of the Divine perfections, the righteous
will rejoice with joy unspeakable, far from feeling any painful sorrow or shame; for any of those past transgressions which were long
since blotted out as a cloud, and washed away by the blood of the
Lamb. It will be abundantly sufficient for them that all the transgressions which they had committed shall not be once mentioned
unto them to their disadvantage; that their sins, and transgressions,
and iniquities shall be remembered no more to their condemnation.
This is the plain meaning of the promise, and this all the children
of God shall find true, to their everlasting comfort.
12. After the righteous are judged, the King will turn to them
upon His left hand, and they shall also be judged, every man according to his works. But not only their outward works will be brought
into the account, but all the evil words which they have ever spoken,
yea, all the evil desires, affections, tempers which have or have had
a place in their souls, and all the evil thoughts or designs which
which were ever cherished in their hearts. The joyful sentence of
acquittal will then be pronounced upon those upon the right hand,




326.JOHN WESLEY.
the dreadful sentence of condemnation upon those on the left, both
of which must remain fixed and unmovable as the throne of God.
III. 1. We may, in the third place, consider a few of the circum
stances which will follow the general judgment. And the first is
the execution of the sentence pronounced on the evil and on the
good. "These shall go away into eternal punishment, and the
righteous into life eternal."  It should be observed it is the very
same word which is used, both in the former and in the latter clause:
it follows that either the punishment lasts forever, or the reward too
will come to an end. No, never, unless God could come to an end,
or His mercy and truth could fail. " Then shall the righteous shine
forth as the sun, in the kingdom of their Father," "and shall drink
of those rivers of pleasure which are at God's right hand for evermore."  But here all description falls short, all human language
fails I Only one who is caught up into the third heaven can have a
just conception of it. But even such a one can not express what he
hath seen, these things it is not possible for man to utter.
The wicked, meantime, shall be turned into hell, even all the
people that forget God. They will be " punished with everlasting
destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of
His power." They will be " cast into the lake of fire, burning with
brimstone," originally " prepared for the devil and his angels," where
they will gnaw their tongues for anguish and pain, they will curse
God and look upward. There the dogs of hell, pride, malice, revenge,
rage, horror, despair, continually devour them. There " They have
no rest, day or night, but the smoke of their torment ascendeth forever and ever." For "their worm dieth not, and the fire is not
quenched."
2. Then the heavens will be shriveled up as a parchment scroll
and pass away with a great noise; they will "flee from the face of
Him that sitteth on the throne, and there will be found no place for
them." The very manner of their passing away is disclosed to us
by the apostle Peter: "In the day of God, the heavens being on
fire, shall be dissolved." The whole beautiful fabric will be overthrown by that raging element, the connection of all its parts destroyed, and every atom torn asunder from  the others. By the
same, " The earth also, and the works that are therein shall be
burned up." The enormous works of nature, the everlasting hills,
mountains that have defied the rage of time, and stood unmoved so
many thousand years, will sink down in fiery ruin. How much less
will the works of art, though of the most durable kind, the utmost
effort of human industry, tombs, pillars, triumphal arches, castles,




THE GREAT ASSILE.                     327
pyramids, be able to withstand the flaming conqueror! All, all
will die, perish, vanish away, like a dream when one awaketh I
3. It has indeed been imagined by some great and good men
that as it requires that same Almighty Power to annihilate things as
to create; to speak into nothing or out of nothing; so no part of no
atom in the universe will be totally or finally destroyed. Rather,
they suppose that, as the last operation of fire, which we have yet
been able to observe, is to reduce into glass what, by a smaller force,
it had reduced to ashes; so, in the day God hath ordained, the whole
earth, if not the material heavens also, will undergo this change,
after Which the fire can have no further power over them. And
they believe this is intimated by that expression in the Revelation
made to St. John, " Before the throne there was a sea of glass like
unto crystal." We can not now either affirm or deny this; but we
shall know hereafter.
4. If it be inquired by the scoffers, the minute philosophers,
how can these things be? Whence should come such an immense
quantity of fire as would consume the heavens and the whole terraqueous globe? We would beg leave first to remind them that this
difficulty is not peculiar to the Christian system. The same opinion
almost universally obtained among the unbigoted heathens. But,
secondly, it is easy to answer, even from our slight and superficial
acquaintance with natural things, that there are abundant magazines
of fire ready prepared, and treasured up against the day of the Lord.
How soon may a comet, commissioned by Him, travel down from
the most distant parts of the universe I And were it to fix upon the
earth, in its return from the sun, when it is some thousand times
hotter than a red-hot cannon-ball; who does not see what must be
the immediate consequence? But, not to ascend so high as the
ethereal heavens, might not the same lightnings which " give shine
to the world," if commanded by the Lord of nature, give ruin and
utter destruction?  Or to go no further than the globe itself; who
knows what huge reservoirs of liquid fire are from age to age contained in the bowels of the earth? 2Etna, Hecla, Vesuvius, and
all the other volcanoes that belch out flames and coals of fire, what
are they but so many proofs and mouths of those fiery furnaces;
and at the same time so many evidences that God hath in readiness
wherewith to fulfill His word? Yea, were we to observe no more
more than the surface of the earth, and the things that surround us
on every side, it is most certain (as a thousand experiments prove,
beyond all possibility of denial) that we, ourselves, our whole bodies,
are full of fire, as well as every thing around us. Ts it not easy to




828                  JOHN WESLEY.
make this ethereal fire visible even to the naked eye, and to produce
thereby the very same effects on combustible matter which are pro.
duced by culinary fire? Needs there then any more than for God
to unloose that secret chain, whereby this irresistible agent is now
bound down, and lies quiescent in every particle of matter? And
how soon would it tear the universal frame in pieces, and involve all
in one common ruin!
5. There is one circumstance more which will follow the judgment that deserves our serious consideration: " We look," says the
apostle, " according to His promise, for new heavens and a new earth,
wherein dwelleth righteousness." The promise stands in the prophecy of Isaiah: " Behold: I create new heavens and a new earth;
and the former shall not be remembered," so great shall the glory of
the latter be I These St. John did behold in the visions of God
"I saw," saith he, "a new heaven and a new earth, for the first
heaven and the first earth were passed away. And I heard a great
voice from [the third] heaven, saying: Behold the tabernacle of God
is with men; and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His
people; and God Himself shall be with them, and be their God I"
Of necessity therefore they will all be happy. " God shall wipe
away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death,
neither sorrow, nor crying; neither shall there be any more pain."
" There shall be no more curse, but they shall see His face," shall
huve the nearest access to, and thence the highest resemblance of
Him. This is the strongest expression in the language of Scripture
to denote the most perfect happiness. " And His name shall be on
their foreheads;" they shall be openly acknowledged as God's own
property, and His glorious nature shall most visibly shine forth in
them. " And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither the light of the sun, for the Lord God giveth them light,
and they shall reign forever and ever."
IV. It remains only to apply the preceding considerations to all
who are here before God. And are we not directly led so to do by
the present solemnity; which so naturally points us to that day
when the Lord will judge the world in righteousness? This, therefore, by reminding us of that more awful season, may furnish many
lessons of instruction. A few of these I may be permitted just to
touch on. My God write them on all our hearts I
1. And, first; how beautiful are the feet of those who are sent
by the wise and gracious providence of God, to execute justice on
earth, to defend the injured and furnish the wrong-doerl Are
they not the ministers of God to us for good, the grand supporters




THE GREAT ASSIZE.                   $29
of thue public tranquillity, the patrons of innocence and virtue, the
security of all our temporal blessings? And does not every one of
these represent not only an earthly prince, but the Judge of the earth i
Him, whose "name is written upon His thigh; King of kings,
and Lord of lords?" Oh that all these sons of the right hand of
the Most High, may be holy as He is holy I Wise with the wisdom
hat sitteth by His throne: like Him who is the eternal Wisdom of
the Father I No respecter of persons, as He is none; but rendering
to every man according to his works: like Him inflexibly; inexorably just, though pitiful and of tender-mercy I So shall they be
terrible, indeed, to them that do evil, as not bearing the sword in
vain. So shall the laws of our land have their full use and due
honor, and the throne of our King be still established in righteousness.
2. Ye truly honorable men whom God and the king have commissioned, in a lower degree, to administer justice, may not ye be
compared to those ministering spirits who will attend the Judge
coming in the clouds? May you not like them burn with love to God
and man?  May you not love righteousness and hate iniquity!
May ye all minister in your several spheres (such honor hath God
given you also 1) to them that shall be heirs of salvation, and to the
glory of your great Sovereign I May ye remain the establishers of
peace, the blessing and ornaments of your country, the protectors
of a guilty land, the guardian angels of all that are round about
you I
3. You, whose office it is to execute what is given you in charge
by Him before whom you stand; how nearly are you concerned to
resemble those that stand before the face of the Son of man, those
servants of His that do His pleasure, and hearken to the voice of
His words I Does it not highly import you to be as incorrupt as
them? To approve yourselves the servants of God? To do justly,
and love mercy; to do to all as ye would they should do to you?
So shall that great Judge, under whose eye you continually stand,
say to you also, " Well done, good and faithful servants, enter ye
into the joy of your Lord!"
4. Suffer me to add a few words to all of you who are at this
present before the Lord. Should not you bear it in your minds all
the day long, that a more awful day is coming? A large assembly
this! But what is it to that which every eye will then behold, this
general assembly of all the children of men that ever lived on the
face of the whole earth I A few will stand at the judgment-seat
this day, to be judged touching what shall be laid to their charge;




330                   JOHN WESLEY.
and they are now reserved in prison, perhaps in chains, till they are
brought forth to be tried and sentenced. But we shall all, I that
speak, and you that hear, "stand at the judgment-seat of Christ."
And we are now reserved on this earth, which is not our home, in
this prison of flesh and blood, perhaps many of us in chains of
darkness too, till we are ordered to be brought forth. Here a man
is questioned concerning one or two acts which he is supposed tc
have committed: there we are to give an account of all our works,
from the cradle to the grave; of all our words, of all our desires
and tempers, all the thoughts and intents of our hearts; of all the
use we have made of our various talents, whether of mind, body,
or fortune, till God said, " Give an account of thy stewardship, for
thou mayest be no longer steward." In this court, it is possible
some who are guilty may escape for want of evidence; but there is
no want of evidence in that court. All men with who you had the
most secret intercourse, who were privy to all your designs and
actions, are ready before your face. So are all the spirits of darkness, who inspired evil designs, and assisted in the execution of
them. So are all the angels of God, those eyes of the Lord, that run
to and fro over all the earth, who watched over your soul, and labored
for your good, so far as you would permit. So is your own conscience a thousand witnesses in one, now no more capable of being
either blinded or silenced, but constrained to know and to speak the
naked truth, touching all your thoughts, and words, and actions.
And is conscience as a thousand witnesses?-yea, but God is as a
thousand consciences. Oh, who can stand before the face of the
great God, even our Saviour Jesus Christ?
See l see  He cometh! He maketh the clouds His chariot!
He rideth upon the wings of the wind I A devouring fire goeth
before Him, and after Him a flame burneth I See I He sitteth upon His throne, clothed with light as with a garment, arrayed with
majesty and honor! Behold His eyes are as a flame of fire, His
voice as the sound of many waters  How will ye escape?  Will
ye call to the mountains to fall on you, the rocks to cover you?
Alas, the mountains themselves, the rocks, the earth, the heavens,
are Just ready to flee away I Can ye prevent the sentence? Wherewith? With all the substance of thy house, with thousands of gold
and silver? Blind wretch I Thou camest naked from thy mother's
womb, and more naked into eternity. Hear the Lord, the Judge I
"Come, ye blessed of my Father  inherit the kingdom prepared
for you from the foundation of the world."  Joyful sound   How
widely different from that voice which echoes through the expanse




THE GREAT ASSIZE.                   331
of neaven,' Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for
the devil and his angels 1" And who is he that can prevent or
retard the fall execution of either sentence? Vain hope! Lo,
hell is moved from beneath to receive those who are ripe for destruction I And the everlasting doors lift up their heads, that the
heirs of Glory may come in I
5. " What manner of persons then ought we to be, in all holy
conversation and godliness?" We know it can not be long before
the Lord will descend with the voice of the archangel, and the
trumpet of God; when every one of us shall appear before Him,
and give an account of his own works. " Wherefore, behold; seeing ye look for these things," seeing ye know He will come, and
will not tarry, "be diligent, that ye may be found of Him in peace,
without spot and blemish." Why should ye not? Why should
one of you be found on the left hand at His appearing? He willeth
not that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance;
by repentance, to faith in a bleeding Lord; by faith, to spotless love;
to the full image of God renewed in the heart, and producing all
holiness of conversation. Can you doubt of this, when you remember the Judge of all is likewise the Saviour of all? Hath He not
bought you with His own blood, that ye might not perish, but have
everlasting life? Oh make proof of His mercy, rather than His
justice; of His love, rather than the thunder of His power I He is
not far from every one us; and He is now come, not to condemn,
but to save the world. He standeth in the midst! Sinner, doth
He not now, even now, knock at the door of thy heart? Oh that
thou mayest know, at least in this thy day, the things that belong
unto thy peace I Oh that ye may now give yourselves to Him who
gave Himself for you, in humble faith, in holy, active, patient love!
So shalh ye rejoice with exceeding joy in His day, when He cometh
in the clouds of heaven I




DISCOURSE TWENTY-FIFTH.
GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
THE "Apostle of the British Empire," as Toplady calls the subject
of this sketch, was born in 1714, of parents who kept an inn, in the city
of Gloucester. In his youth he was addicted to lying, filthy talking,
Sabbath breaking, card-playing, and other vicious practices. At fifteen
or sixteen years of age he became tired of study, and assisted his mother
as "pot boy," for a year and a half. At the age of eighteen, however,
he resumed study, and entered at Oxford, as a servitor of Pembroke
College. Here his religious convictions were enlightened and guided by
the Wesleys and other friends, and the reading of several awakening
and devotional books. At length, in 1736, he was ordained deacon, and
began his ministerial career. His first sermon, at Gloucester, is said to
have " driven fifteen persons mad." From the beginning of his ministry,
his preaching was marked by a popularity such as, probably, never
was excelled. An eye witness says of his audience, "You might have
walked on the people's heads." Upon his return to England, after a
visit to Georgia, many of the clergy refused him their pulpits, because
of some expressions in published letters, and his conduct in America.
They suspected him of fanaticism and enthusiasm. In April, 1789,
he had gone to Islington to preach for the vicar, his friend, Mr. Stone.
house. But the churchwarden forbid him to preach, under the plea that
he could not show his license. It was a little incident, but fraught with
the most important results. Whitefield went outside, after the service,
and preached in the church-yard. From that day dates his open-air.
preaching, so much blessed of God; and henceforth his ministrations in
the pulpit, with occasional exceptions, ceased. The world became his
pulpit; and there was hardly a town in England, Scotland, or Wales
which he did not visit. Fourteen times did he visit Scotland; seven
times he crossed and recrossed the Atlantic; and twice he went over to
Ireland. In the thirty-four years of his ministry, it is computed that he
preached publicly eighteen thousand times. As to the wonderful effects
of his discourses, details can not here be given. In one week, at Moor.
field, he received one thousand letters from people under spiritual con.
cern. He lied of asthma, at the age of fifty-six, in Newburyport, United




THF KINGDOM  OF GOD.                      833
States. His last sermon was preached only twenty-four hours before his
death.
To say that Whitefield was one of the most extraordinary preachers
the world has ever seen, is but repeating what is universally conceded.
Wonders are told of his eloquence. He was admired by men of culture
as well as the multitude. The nobility and gentry attended his
preaching, and eminent statesmen were among his delighted hearers
Bolingbroke records his opinion thus: "He is the most extraordinary
man in our times. He has the most commanding eloquence I ever heard
in any person."  Franklin gives a long account of his preaching in Phil.
adelphia; and Hume declared it was worth going twenty miles to hear
him preach.
An able writer gives these as the leading characteristics of Whitefield's preaching, accounting for its strange results: "A  pure heartkindling Gospel; a lucid and simple style; boldness and directness; intense earnestness; pathos and feeling; perfect action; a powerful and
sonorous utterance; and a singular faculty of description, answering to
the Arabian proverb,'He is the best orator who can turn men's ears
into eyes."'
The sermons of Whitefield must have possessed great merit, independently of the charms of gesture, voice, and manner. Those that
come down to us are very imperfect, for the most part mere notes of
what was said, and published without Whitefield's correction. They are
no standard from which to judge of his pulpit powers, though sometimes
discovering those qualities of thought and expression which are essential
to eloquence. The editor of this work is happy in being able to present
a discourse of this great preacher, of which the common criticism,
" that they contain no powerful movement of thought," does not hold
good. It has never appeared, to his knowledge, in any collection of
Whitefield's sermons; but is contained in a work called "Revivals of the
eighteenth century," by Dr. Macfarland, of Scotland. It was preached
by the author several times in Scotland, and is said to have been copied
from his manuscript.
THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
" For the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and
joy in the Holy Ghost." —RoM. xiv. 17.
Though we all profess to own one Lord, one faith, one baptism;
though Jesus Christ never was, and never will be, divided in Himself: yet the followers of Jesus Christ have in all ages been sadly
divided among themselves; and what has rendered the case the




8834             GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
more to be pitied, is, that they have generally been divided about
the circumstantials of religion, they have generally received one
another to doubtful disputation, and embittered one another's hearts,
by talking about those things which they might either do or not do,
either know or not know, and yet at the same time be the true followers of the meek and lowly Jesus. I am verily persuaded that this
is the great artifice and engine of the devil. He knows if he can
divide Christians he will get the better of them; and therefore he
endeavors to sow the tares of division among them in order to make
them a common prey to their enemies. And, indeed, this God hath
permitted in all ages of the Church. In consequence of this the
early ages of Christianity were not altogether free of it. No, this
text gives us a pregnant and sufficient proof of it.
It seems the first converts of Christianity consisted of two sorts
of people-either those who were Jews before they became Chris.
tians, or those who were heathens, and never had been subject to
the law of Moses, but were converted from a state of Gentilism,
from a state of heathenish darkness, and brought to the marvelous
Gospel light. The first of these, knowing that every rite, every ceremony of the law of Moses, had a divine superscription wrought upon
it, they thought themselves obliged, notwithstanding they believed
in the Lord Jesus Christ, to abstain from such meats and drinks as
were forbidden, and to submit to such festivals as were enjoined by
the law. Whereas, on the contrary, the heathen, who never were
brought under this yoke, nay, even the Jews themselves who were
better instructed in their Christian liberty, knowing that every creature of God was now good, if sanctified by the Word of God and
prayer; knowing that, " Touch not, taste not, handle not," were no
longer precepts for those who believed in the Lord Jesus Christ;
they could not submit to them-they could not submit to the new
moons and Sabbaths —they ate what was set before them, and made
no scruples about meat or drink. But, however, it seems there were
two contending parties-many right souls, no doubt, on both sides.
What must, then, the great Apostle do? Why, like a true follower
of the meek and lowly Jesus, he preached up to both sides the golden
rule of moderation, and endeavored to persuade them to dispute no
more about these outward things.
If we will, therefore, look to the 1st verse of this chapter, we
shall find the Apostle giving them a healing advice.' Him," says
he, "that is weak in the faith, receive ye"-do not separate from
him, do not forbid him to come into your Christian fellowship; " receive him" —look upon him as a disciple, receive him with open arms




THE KINGDOM  OF GOD.                   335
minto your communion; "but not to doubtful disputation" —do not
fall into disputing with him as soon as ever he comes into your church.
"For," says he, in the 2d verse, "one," that is well instructed in his
Christian liberty, "believeth that he may eat all things," without
scruple. Why, " another that is weak," and hath not got so much
light concerning Gospel liberty, thinks himself obliged to abstain
from such meats as were forbidden by the law, and therefore, for
conscience' sake,' eateth herbs." Why then, says the Apostle in the
8d verse, "Let not him that eateth despise him that eateth not,"
though he be but a novice in grace: on the other hand, "let not
him that eateth not judge him that eateth," as though he took more
liberty than God Almighty or the rules of the Gospel allowed him;
"for God bath received him." Though he is weak, he is a believer
in the Lord Jesus Christ; God bath received him into His favor, and
how, then, dare you refuse to receive him into your communion?
In order, therefore, that the Apostle might put a stop to this spirit
of division and opposition that was among them, he goes on, and
tells them that their despising, that their judging and disputing with
one another at this rate, was taking Christ's prerogative out of His
hand. For, says he in the 10th verse, " Why dost thou judge thy
brother?" On the other hand, " Why dost thou set at naught thy
brother? we shall all stand before the judgment.seat of Christ."
And Jesus Christ, who seeth the springs of our actions, can bear
with us, though we can not bear with one another. For, says he,
" One man esteemeth one day above another, another esteemeth every
day alike; let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind;" that
is, let every man take the utmost care to inform his conscience, according to the rule of God's Word; and after he has done that, let
him bear with other people, though they may not follow him in all
things. And then, as the most prevailing and most cogent argument
the Apostle could possibly bring, to put an end to their divisions, he
tells them, in the words of the text, that religion doth not consist in
these things. " For," says he, "the kingdom of God is not meat and
drink, but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost,"
As though he had said, AMy dear friends, beware of disputing, bewaie
of dividing from one another on account of the circumstantials of religion, beware of receiving one another to doubtful disputations about
meat or drink, or observing holy days. "For," says he, "the kingdom of God is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and
joy in the Holy Ghost."
This is a short, but when I read it, I think it is one of the most
comprehensive verses in the whole bc *k of God. And I am sure




886              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
if ever it was necessary for a minister to preach upon such subjects
as these, it must be in the days wherein we live; for, my friends,
the devil is getting advantage over us by our manifold divisions.
We have been settled upon our lees, we have had no outward persecution; and now God, in His righteous judgment, has suffered us to
divide among ourselves. It is high time, therefore, for ministers to
stand in the gap, to preach up a catholic spirit, to preach out bigotry,
to preach out prejudice; for we will never be all of one mind, as
long as we are in the world, about externals in religion; that is a
privilege reserved to heaven, to a future state. But while we have
different degrees of light, it is absolutely necessary that we should
bear with all who can not in all things follow us. I am by no means
for bringing the Church into a state of anarchy and confusion; but
that we should bear with one another; we should not divide from
one another, so as not to keep fellowship with one another, because
we are not of the same mind in some particular circumstance. I
verily believe Jesus Christ suffers us to differ to teach us that His
kingdom is of a spiritual nature-it is not such a legal dispensation
as the Jewish was; and therefore we should not divide about externals. Besides, by being left thus to differ with one another in our
sentiments about externals, we learn to exercise our passive graces.
I am sure there is one good effect which division has on my own
and many other people's hearts-it makes us long for heaven, where
we shall be all of one mind and one heart. It will be our perfection
in heaven to be all of one heart; and therefore it must be our imperfection on earth to be divided.
There are two things which those who call themselves Christians
want much to be convinced of, namely, First, What religion is not;
Second, What religion positively is. Both these are in the words of
the text plainly taught, and, therefore, as God shall enable me, I
shall endeavor, 1st, To explain what you are to understand by "the
kingdom of God;" 2dly, I shall endeavor to show that " the kingdom of God is not meat and drink;" and 3dly, I shall show you
what " the kingdom of God" positively is, namely, " righteousness,
and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost."
1st, I am to explain to you what you are to understand by " the
kingdom of God." By the kingdom of God, in some places of
Scripture, you are to understand no more than the outward preaching of the Gospel, as, when the apostles went out and preached that
"the kingdom of God and the kingdom of heaven was at hand."
In other places of Scripture you are to understand it as implying
that work of grace, that inward holiness, which is wrought in the




THE KINGDOM  OF GOD,                   337
hebart of every soul that is truly converted and brought home to
God. The Lord Jesus Christ is King of His Church, and the Lord
Jesus Christ has got a kingdom; and this kingdom is erected and
set up in the hearts of sinners, when they are brought to be subject
to the government of our dear Redeemer's laws. In this sense,
therefore, we are to understand the kingdom of God, when Jesus
Christ said, " The kingdom of God is within you," in your hearts;
and when He tells Nicodemus that " unless a man be born again he
can not see the kingdom of God," he can have no notion of the
inward life of a Christian. In other places of Scripture, the kingdom
of God not only signifies the kingdom of grace, but the kingdom
of grace and of glory also; as when Jesus said, " It is easier for a
camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter
into the kingdom of God;" that is, either to be a true member of
His mystical Church here or a partaker of the glory of the Church
triumphant hereafter. We are to take the kingdom of God in the
text as signifying that inward work of grace, that kingdom which
the Lord Jesus Christ sets up in the hearts of all that are truly
brought home to God; so that when the Apostle tells us, "The
kingdom of God is not meat and drink," it is the same as though he
had said, "My dear friends, do not quarrel about outward things;
for the kingdom of God, or true and undefiled religion, heart and
soul religion, is not meat and drink."
2dly, By meat and drink, if we compare the text with the context, we are to understand no more than this, that the kingdom of
God, or true religion, doth not consist in abstaining from a particular meat or drink. But I shall take the words in a more comprehensive sense, and shall endeavor to show you on this head that the
kingdom of God, or true and undefiled religion, doth not consist in
any, no, not in all outward things, put them altogether. And,
First, The kingdom of God, or true and undefiled religion, doth
not consist in being of this or that particular sect or communion.
Perhaps, my dear friends, were many of you asked what reason you
can give for the hope that is in you, what title you have to call
yourselves Christians-perhaps you could say no more for yourselves
than this, namely, that you belong to such a Church, and worship
God in the same way in which your fathers and mothers worshiped
God before you; and perhaps, at the same time you are so narrow
in your thoughts that you think none can worship God but those
that worship God just in your way. It is certainly, my dear friends,
a blessing to be born as you are, in a reformed Church; it is cer.
tainly a blessing to have the outward government and discipline of
22




838              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
the Church exercised; but then, if you place religion merely in
being of this or that sect-if you contend to monopolize or confine
the grace of God to your particular party-if you rest in that, you
place the kingdom of God in something in which it doth not consist
— you had as good place it in meat and drink. There are certainly
Christians among all sects and communions that have learned the
truth as it is in Christ Jesus. I do not mean that there are Christians among Arians, Socinians, or those that deny the divinity of
Jesus Christ-I am sure the devil is priest of such congregations as
these; but I mean there are Christians among other sects that may
differ from us in the outward worship of God. Therefore, my dear
friends, learn to be more catholic, more unconfined in your notions;
for if you place the kingdom of God merely in a sect, you place it
in that in which it doth not consist.
Again: as the kingdom of God doth not consist in being of
this or that sect, so neither doth it consist in being baptized when
you were young. Baptism is certainly an ordinance of the Lord
Jesus Christ-it ought certainly to be administered; but then, my
dear friends, take care that you do not make a Christ of your baptism, for there have been many baptized with water, as you were,
who were never savingly baptized with the Holy Ghost. Paul had
a great value for circumcision; but when he saw the Jews resting
upon their circumcision, he told them circumcision was nothing, and
uncircumcision was nothing, but a new creature. And yet must
people live as if they thought it will be sufficient to entitle them to
heaven to tell Jesus Christ that their name was in the register-book
of such and such a parish. Your names may be in the registerbook, and yet at the same time not be in the book of life. Ananias
and Sapphira were baptized-Simon Magus was baptized: and,
therefore, if you place religion merely in being baptized, in having
the outward washing of water, without receiving the baptism of the
Holy Ghost, you place the kingdom of God in something in which
it doth not consist-in effect, you place it in meat and drink.
Buat further: as the kingdom of God and true religion doth not
consist in being baptized, neither doth it consist in being orthodox
in our notions, or being able to talk fluently of the doctrines of the
Gospel. There are a great many who can talk of free grace, of free
justification, of final perseverance, of election, and God's everlasting
love. All these are precious truths-they are all connected in a
chain; take away one link and you spoil the whole chain of Gospel truths. But then I am persuaded that there are many who talk
of these truths, who preach up these truths, and yet at the same




THE KINGDOM  OF GOD.                  339
time never, never felt the power of these truths upon their hearts.
It is a good thing to have a form of sound words; and I think you
have got a form of sound words in your Larger and Shorter Cate.
chism. But you may have orthodox heads, and yet you may have
the devil in your hearts; you may have clear heads, you may be
able to speak, as it were, with the tongues of men and angels, the
doctrines of the Gospel, but yet, at the same time, you may never
have felt them upon your own souls. And if you have never felt
the power of them upon your hearts, your talk of Christ and free
justification, and having rational convictions of these truths, will
but increase your condemnation, and you will only go to hell with
so much more solemnity. Take care, therefore, of resting in a
form of knowledge-it is dangerous; if you do, you place the kingdom of God in meat and drink.
Again: as the kingdom of God doth not consist in orthodox notions, much less doth it consist in being sincere. I know not what
sort of religion we have got among us. I fear many ministers as
well as people want to recommend themselves to God by their sincerity; they think, " If we do all we can, if we are but sincere, Jesus
Christ will have mercy upon us." But pray what is there in our
sincerity to recommend us to God? There is no natural man in the
world sincere till God make us new creatures in Jesus Christ; and,
therefore, if you depend upon your sincerity for your salvation, your
sincerity will damn you.
Further: as the kingdom of God doth not consist merely in sincerity (for nothing will recommend us to God but the righteousness
of Jesus Christ), neither doth it consist in being negatively good, and
yet I believe, my dear friends, if many of you were to be visited by
a minister when you are upon a death-bed, and if he were to ask you
how you hope to be saved, why, you would say, "Yes, you hoped
to be saved, you never did man, woman, nor child any harm in your
life; you have done nobody any harm." And, indeed, I do not find
that the unprofitable servant did one any harm; no, the poor man,
he only innocently wrapped up his talent in a napkin, and when his
lord came to call him to account, he thought he should be applauded
by his lord, and therefore introduces himself with the word lo-'Lo, there thou hast what is thine." But what says Jesus Christ?
"Cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer darkness, there shall be
weeping and gnashing of teeth." Suppose it to be true that you had
done nobody harm, yet it will not avail you to salvation. If you
bring forth only the fig-leaves of an outward profession, and bring not
forth good fruit, it will not send you to heaven-it will send you to hell.




840              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
Again: some of you, perhaps, may think I have not reaShed
you yet, therefore I go further, to show you that the kingdom of
God doth not consist in a dry, lifeless morality. I am not speaking
against morality-it is a blessed thing when Jesus Christ is laid as the
foundation of it, and I could heartily wish that you moral gentlemen,
who are for talking so much of your morality, I wish we could see
a little more of it than we do. I do not cry down morality, but so fa.
as this, that you do not rest in your morality, that you do not think
you are Christians because you are not vicious-because you now and
then do some good action. Why, self-love will carry a man to perform all moral actions. A man, perhaps, will not get drunk for fear
of making his head ache; a man may be honest because it would
spoil his reputation to steal. And so a man who has not the love
of God in his heart may do moral actions. But if you depend on
morality, if you make a Christ of it, and go about to establish a
righteousness of your own, and think your morality will recommend
you to God, my dear friends, you are building upon a rotten foundation, you will find yourselves mistaken, and that the kingdom of
God is not in your hearts.
Again: as the kingdom of God doth not consist in doing nobody
hurt, nor in doing moral actions, neither doth it consist in attending
upon all outward ordinances whatsoever. A great many of you
may think that you go to church, and receive the sacrament once or
twice a year (though I do think that is too seldom, by a great deal,
to have it admihistered) you may read your Bibles, you may have
family worship, you may say your prayers in your closets, and yet
at the same time, my dear friends, know nothing of the Lord Jesus
Christ in your hearts. You may have a token, and receive the sacrament, and perhaps at the same time be eating and drinking your
own damnation. I speak this because it is a most fatal snare that
poor professors are exposed to-we stop our consciences by our
duties. Many of you, perhaps, lead a lukewarm, loose life-you are
Gallio-like; yet you will be very good the sacrament-week; you will
attend all the sermons, and come to the sacrament, you will be very
good for some time after that, and then afterward go on in your
former way till the next sacrament. You are resting on the means
of grace all the while, and placing religion in that which is only a
mean of religion. I speak from mine own experience. I know
how much I was deceived with a form of godliness. I made conscience of fasting twice a week, I made conscience of praying sometimes nine times a day, and received the sacrament every Sabbath.
cday, and yet knew nothing of inward religion in my heart, till God




THE KINGDOM  JF GOD.                   841
was pleased to dart a ray of light into my soul, and show me I must
be a new creature, or be damned for evermore. Being, therefore, so
long deceived myself, I speak with more sympathy to you who are
resting on a round of duties and model of performances. And now,
my friends, if your hearts were to be searched, and you were to
speak your minds, I appeal to your own hearts whether you are not
thinking within yourselves, though you may have so much charity
as to think I mean well, yet I verily believe many of you think I
have carried matters a little too far; and why is this but because I
come close to some of your cases? The pride of your hearts does
not care to admit of conviction, therefore you would fain retort on
the preacher, and say he is wrong, whereas it is your hearts that are
wrong all the while.
Others, again, perhaps may be saying, " Well, if a man may go
thus far and not be a Christian, as I am sure he may, and a great
deal further, you will be apt to cry out,'Who, then, can be saved?"'
And 0 that I could hear you asking this question in earnest I for,
my friends, I am obliged, wherever I go, to endeavor to plow up
people's fallow ground, to bring them off from their duties, and
making a Christ of them. There are so many shadows in religion,
that if you do not take care you will grasp at the shadow, and lose
the substance. The Devil has so ordered the affairs of the Church
now, and our hearts are so desperately deceitful, that if we do not
take a deal of care we shall come short of true religion-of the true
kingdom of God in the soul. The great question then is, " Whether
any of you are convinced of what has been said?" Does power
come with the word? When I was reading a book entitled "The
Life of God in the Soul of Man,"* and reading that a man may read,
pray, and go to church, and be constant in the duties of the Sabbath,
and yet not be a Christian, I wondered what the man would be at;
I was ready to throw it from me, till at last he told me that religion
was an union of the soul with God-the image of God wrought upon
the heart, or Christ Jesus formed in us. Then God was pleased
with these words to cast a ray of light into my soul; with the light
there came a power, and from that very moment I knew I must be
a new creature. This, perhaps, may be your case, my dear hearers.
Perchance many of you may be loving, good-natured people, and
attend the duties of religion, but take care, for Christ's sake, that you
do not rest on these things.
I think I can not sum up what has been said better than to give
you the character of the Apostle Paul. Are you a Christian, do you
* This must have been Scougal's well -known work.




$42              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
think, because you are of this or that sect?-Paul was a Jew and a
Pharisee. Are you a Christian because you are baptized, and enjoy
Christian privileges?-Then Paul was circumcized.  Are you a
Christian because you do nobody hurt, and are sincere?-Paul was
blameless before his conversion, and was not a Gallio in religion, as
many of us are; he was so zealous for God, that he persecuted the
Church of Christ. But yet when God was pleased to reveal His Son
in him, when God was pleased to strike him to the ground, and let
him see what heart-religion was, then Paul dropped his false confidence immediately; those things which he counted gain, which he
depended on before, he now counted loss, that he might win Christ,
and be found in.Him; not having his own righteousness, which is of
the law, but that righteousness which is by faith in Christ Jesus. It
is time, my dear friends, to proceed to
3dly. The next thing proposed, namely, To show you what the
kingdom of God, or true religion, positively is. I have told you
what it is not; I shall now proceed to show you what it is. It is
" righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." But before
I proceed to this, I must make a little digression. Perhaps curiosity
has brought many here who have neither regard to God nor man.
A man may be a member of the purest church, a man may be baptized, do nobody harm, do a great deal of good, attend on all the
ordinances of Christianity, and yet at the same time may be a child
of the devil. If a man may go thus far, and yet at the same time
miss salvation, what will become of you who do not keep up a form
of religion, who scarcely know the time when you have been at
church and attending sermons, unless curiosity brought you to hear
a particular stranger?  What will become of you who, instead of
believing the Gospel and reading the Bible, set up your corrupt relig
Son in opposition to divine revelation? What will become of you,
who count it your pleasure to riot in the day time, to spend time in
rioting and wantonness; who are sitting in the scorner's chair, and
joining with your hellish companions, who love to dress the children
of God in bear-skins? What will become of you who live in acts
of uncleanness, drunkenness, adultery, Sabbath-breaking?  Surely,
without repentance, you will be lost-your damnation slumbereth
not. God may bear with you long, but He will not forbear always.
The time will come when He will ease Himself of His adversaries,
and then you will be undone for evermore, unless you come to Him as
poor, lost sinners.
But I now go on to show you what true religion positively is; "it is
righteousness," it is " peace," it is "joy in the Holy Ghost." And




THE KINGDOM  01 GOD.                     348
First, The kingdom of God is "' righteousness." By righte usness
we are here to understand the complete, perfect, and all-sufficient
righteousness of our Lord Jesus Christ, as including both His active and
His passive obedience. My dear friends, we have no righteousness
of our own; our best righteousness, take them altogether, are but so
many filthy rags; we can only be accepted for the sake of the righteousness of our Lord Jesus Christ. This righteousness must be imputed and made over to us, and applied to our hearts; and till we
get this righteousness brought home to our souls, we are in a state
of death and damnation-the wrath of God abideth on us.
Before I go further, I would endeavor to apply this. Give me
leave to put this question to your hearts. You call yourselves
Christians, and would count me uncharitable to call it in question;
but I exhort you to let conscience speak out, do not bribe it any
longer. Did you ever see yourselves as damned sinners? Did conviction ever fasten upon your hearts? And after you had been
made to see your want of Christ, and made to hunger and thirst after
righteousness, did you lay hold on Christ by faith? Did you ever
close with Christ? Was Christ's righteousness ever put upon your
naked souls? Was ever a feeling application of His righteousness
made to your hearts?  Was it, or was it not?  If not, you are in a
damnable state-you are out of Christ; for the Apostle says here,
"The kingdom of God is righteousness;" that is, the righteousness
of Christ applied and brought home to the heart.
It follows, " peace." " The kingdom of God is righteousness and
peace." By peace I do not understand that false peace, or rather
carnal security, into which so many are fallen. There are thousands
who speak peace to themselves when there is no peace. Thousands
have got a peace of the devil's making; the strong man armed has
got possession of their hearts, and therefore their goods are all in
peace. But the peace here spoken of is a peace that follows after i
great deal of soul trouble; it is like that calm which the Lord Jesus
Christ spoke to the wind; " Peace, be still; and immediately there
was a great calm;" it is like that peace which Christ spoke to His
disciples, when He came and said, " Peace be unto you" —" My
peace I leave with you."  It is a peace of God's making, it is a
peace of God's giving, it is a peace that the world can not give, it is a
peace that can be felt, it is a peace that passeth human understanding-it is a peace that results from a sense of having Christ's righteousness brought home to the soul. For a poor soul before this is full
of trouble; Christ makes application of His righteousness to his
heart; and then the poor creature, being justified by faith, hath




844              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. My dear friends, I
am now talking of heart-religion, of an inward work of God, an inward kingdom in your hearts, which you must have, or you shall
never sit with Jesus Christ in His kingdom. The most of you may
have peace, but for Christ's sake examine upon what this peace is
founded-see if Christ be brought home to your souls, if you have
had a feeling application of the merits of Christ brought home to
your souls. Is God at peace with you? Did Jesus Christ ever say,
"Peace be to you"-" Be of good cheer"-" Go thy way, thy sins
are forgiven thee"-" My peace I leave with you, My peace I give
unto you?" Did God ever bring a comfortable promise with power
to your soul? And after you have been praying, and fearing you
would be damned, did you ever feel peace flow in like a river upon
your soul? so that you could say, Now I know that God is my
friend, now I know that Jesus is my Saviour, now I can call Him
" My Lord, and my God;" now I know that Christ hath not only died
for others, but I know that Jesus hath died for me in particular. 0
my dear friends, it is impossible to tell you the comfort of this peace,
and I am astonished (only man's heart is desperately wicked) how
you can have peace one moment and yet not know that God is at
peace with you. How can you go to bed this night without this
peace? It is a blessed thing to know when sin is forgiven; would
you not be glad if an angel were to come and tell you so this night?
But there is something more-there is "joy in the Holy Ghost."
I have often thought that if the Apostle Paul were to come and
preach now he would be reckoned one of the greatest enthusiasts
on earth. He talked of the Holy Ghost, of feeling the Holy Ghost;
and so we must all feel it, all experience it, all receive it, or we can
never see a holy God with comfort. We are not to receive the
Holy Ghost so as to enable us to work miracles; for, "Many will
say in that day, We have cast out devils in Thy name, and in Thy
name done many wonderful works." But we must receive the
Holy Ghost to sanctify our nature, to purify our hearts, and make
us meet for heaven. Unless we are born again, and have the Holy
Ghost in our hearts, if we were in heaven we could take no pleasure
there. The Apostle not only supposes we must have the Holy
Ghost, but he supposes, as a necessary ingredient to make up the
kingdom of God in a believer's heart, that he must have "joy in
the Holy Ghost." There are a great many, I believe, who think
religion is a poor melancholy thing, and they are afraid to be Christians. But, my dear friends, there is no true joy till you can joy in
God and Christ. I know wicked men and men of pleasure will




THE KINGDOM  OF GOD.                   84b
have a little laughter; but what is it, but like the crackling of a few
thorns under a pot? it makes a blaze, and soon goes out. I know
what it is to take pleasure in sin; but I always found the smart that
followed was ten thousand times more hurtful than any gratification
I could receive. But they who joy in God have a joy that strangers
intermeddle not with-it is a joy that no man can take from them;
it amounts to a full assurance of faith that the soul is reconciled to
God through Christ, that Jesus dwells in the heart; and when the
soul reflects on itself, it magnifies the Lord, and rejoices in God its
Saviour. Thus we are told that "Zaccheus received Christ joyfully," that " the eunuch went on his way rejoicing," and that "the
jailer rejoiced in God with all his house." 0, my friends, what joy
have they that know their sins are forgiven them! What a blessed
thing is it for a man to look forward and see an endless eternity of
happiness before him, knowing that every thing shall work together
for his good I —it is joy unspeakable and full of glory. 0 may God
make you all partakers of it 
Here, then, we will put the kingdom of God together. It is
"righteousness," it is "peace," it is "joy in the Holy Ghost."
When this is placed in the heart, God there reigns, God there dwells
and walks-the creature is a son or daughter of the Almighty.
But, my friends, how few are there here who have been made par.
takers of this kingdom! Perhaps the kingdom of the devil, instead
of the kingdom of God, is in most of our hearts. This has been a
place much favored of God; may I hope some of you can go along
with me and say " Blessed be God we have got righteousness, peace,
and joy in the Holy Ghost?" Have you so? Then you are kings,
though beggars; you are happy above all men in the world-you
have got heaven in your hearts; and when the crust of your bodies
drops, your souls will meet with God, your souls will enter into the
world of peace, and you shall be happy with God for evermore. I
hope there is none of you who will fear death; fie for shame, if ye
do! What! afraid to go to Jesus, to your Lord?  You may cry
out, "0  death, where is thy sting? 0 grave, where is thy victory?"
You may go on your way rejoicing, knowing that God is you:
friend; die when you will, angels will carry you safe to heaven.
But, 0, how many are here in this church-yard, who will be laid
in some grave ere long, who are entire strangers to this work of
God upon their souls I My dear friends, I think this is an awful
sight. Here are many thousands of souls, that must shortly appear
with me, a poor creature, in the general assembly of all mankind
before God in judgment. God Almighty knows whether some of




346              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
you may not drop down dead before you go out of tne church-yard;
and yet, perhaps most are strangers to the Lord Jesus Christ in their
hearts. Perhaps curiosity has brought you out to hear a poor babbler preach. But, my friends, I hope I came out of a better principle. If I know any thing of my heart, I came to promote God's
glory; and if the Lord should make use of such a worthless worm,
such a wretched creature, as I am, to do your precious souls good,
nothing would rejoice me more than to hear that God makes the
foolishness of preaching a means of making many believe. I was
long myself deceived with a form of godliness, and I know what it
is to be a factor for the devil, to be led captive by the devil at his
will, to have the kingdom of the devil in my heart; and I hope I
can say, through free grace, I know what it is to have the kingdom
of God erected in me. It is God's goodness that such a poor wretch
as I am converted; though sometimes when I am speaking of God's
goodness I am afraid he will strike me down dead. Let me draw
out my soul and heart to you, my dear friends, my dear guilty
friends, poor bleeding souls, who must shortly take your last farewell, and fly into endless eternity. Let me entreat you to lay these
things seriously to heart this night. Now, when the Sabbath is
over, and the evening is drawing near, methinks the very sight is
awful (I could almost weep over you, as our Lord did over Jerusalem) to think in how short a time every soul of you must die-some
of you to go to heaven, and others to go to the devil for evermore.
0 my dear friends, these are matters of eternal moment. I did
not come to tickle your ears; if I had a mind to do so, I would
play the orator; no, but I came, if God should be pleased, to touch
your hearts. What shall I say to you? Open the door of your
heart, that the King of glory, the blessed Jesus, may come in and
erect His kingdom in your soul. Make room for Christ; the Lord
Jesus desires to sup with you to-night; Christ is willing to come
into any of your hearts, that will be pleased to open and receive
Him. Are there any of you made willing Lydias? There are many
women here, but how many Lydias are there here? Does power go
with the word to open your heart? and find you a sweet melting in
your soul? Are you willing? Then Christ Jesus is willing to
come to you. But you may say, Will Christ come to my wicked,
polluted heart? Yes, though you have many devils in your heart,
Christ will come and erect His throne there; though the devils be
in your heart, the Lord Jesus will scourge out a legion of devils
and His throne shall be exalted in thy soul. Sinners, be ye what
you will, come to Christ, you shall have righteousness and peace,




THE KINGDOM  OF GOD.                   847
If you have no peace, come to Christ, and He will give you peace,
When you come to Christ, you will feel such joy that it is impossible for you to tell. 0 may God pity you all! I hope this will be
a night of salvation to some of your souls.
My dear friends, I would preach with all my heart till midnight,
to' do you good, till I could preach no more. Oh that this body
might hold out to speak more for my dear Redeemer! Had I a
thousand lives, had I a thousand tongues, they should be employed
in inviting sinners to come to Jesus Christ  Come, then, let me
prevail with some of you to come along with me. Come poor, lost,
undone sinner, come just as you are to Christ, and say, If I be
damned, I will perish at the feet of Jesus Christ, where never one
perished yet. He will receive you with open arms; the dear Redeemer is willing to receive you all. Fly, then, for your lives. The
devil is in you while unconverted; and will you go with the devil
in your heart to bed this night? God Almighty knows if ever you
and I shall see one another again. In one or two days more I must
go, and, perhaps, I may never see you again till I meet you at the
judgment-day. 0 my dear friends. think of that solemn meeting;
think of that important hour, when the heavens shall pass away
with a great noise, when the elements shall melt with fervent heat,
when the sea and the grave shall be giving up their dead, and all
shall be summoned to appear before the great God. What will you
do then, if the kingdom of God is not erected in your hearts? You
must go to the devil-like must go to like —if you are not converted
Christ hath asserted it in the strongest manner: " Verily, verily, I
say unto you, Except a man be born again, he can not enter into
the kingdom of God." Who can dwell with devouring fire? Who
can dwell with everlasting burnings? 0, my heart is melting with
love to you. Surely God intends to do good to your poor souls.
Will no one be persuaded to accept of Christ? If those who are
settled Pharisees will not come, I desire to speak to you who are
drunkards, Sabbath-breakers, cursers and swearers-will you come
to Christ? I know that many of you come here out of curiosity:
though you come only to see the congregation, yet if you come to
Jesus Christ, Christ will accept of you. Are there any cursing,
swearing soldiers here? Will you come to Jesus Christ, and, list
yourselves under the banner of the dear Redeemer? You are all
welcome to Christ. Are there any little boys or little girls here?
Come to Christ, and He will erect His kingdom in you. There are
many little children whom God is working on, both at home and
abroad. 0, if some of the little lambs would come to Christ, they




348              GEORGE WHITEFIELD.
shall have peace and joy in the day that the Redeemer shall set up
His kingdom in their hearts. Parents tell them that Jesus Christ will
take them in His arms, that He will dandle them on His knees. All
of you, old and young, you that are old and gray-headed, come to
Jesus Christ, and you shall be kings and priests to your God. The
Lord will abundantly pardon you at, the eleventh hour. "Ho,
every one of you that thirsteth." If there be any of you ambitious
of honor, do you want a crown, a scepter? Come to Christ, and
the Lord Jesus Christ will give you a kingdom that no man shall
take from you.




DISCOURSE TWENTY.SIXTIH
ROBERT ROBINSON.
THIs distinguished preacher and author was born at Swaffham, in
Norfolk, January 1735; where he received a tolerable education. He
appears to have been converted under Whitefield's labors, as he always
called him his spiritual father. His first efforts at preaching, in his native
county, excited great admiration; and, upon the adoption of Baptist
sentiments, he became pastor of a congregation, in the parish of St.
Paul's, Norwich. From thence he removed to Canbridge, in 1759, where
he became after two years' trial, settled pastor. By close application to
reading and study, he here greatly improved his knowledge of the languages, translated his three volumes of the sermons of Saurin, and acquired wide popularity as a public speaker. Between 1770 and 1782 he
published a large number of works; among others, his translation of
Claude's well known "' Essay on Sermonizing," and his celebrated " Plea
for the Divinity of Christ," which has been generally considered exceedingly able and conclusive. But upon this subject, and some doctrines of a
kindred nature, it is supposed that about this time his mind underwent a
considerable change. His congregation still adhered to him, but the orthodox clergy, believing him to have adopted Socinian opinions, with.
drew from him, and he also retired from them. It is matter of great uncertainty, however, as to the nature and extent of the commonly sup.
posed defection. That Robinson was not wholly orthodox, no one can
question; but after the lapse of time, and more minute examination of
facts, it is, to say the least, not certain that he died a Socinian. Such as
are curious to pursue this point, will do well to examine an extended
note in the works of Andrew Fuller, Phil. edit., A. B. P. Soc., 1845,
vol. ii., pp. 221-23. Among other things, it is there mentioned that,
a month before Robinson's death, in 1790, he said to his friend Mr. Feary,
in an affecting conversation, "my dear brother, I am no Socinian. I am
no Arian; my soul rests its whole hope of salvation on the atonement of
Jesus Christ, my Lord and my God. My views of Divine truth are precisely
what they were when I wrote my Plea for the Divinity of Jesus Christ."
Robinson is said to have been unrivaled for pure and native eloquence.
The following, which is one of his most characteristic discourses, was
preached September 16th, 1781. It was reprinted entire, in the English
Baptist Magazine of 1834.




350                ROBERT ROBINSON.
OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST.
" If ye love Me, keep My commandments."-JOHN, xiv. 15.
"If ye love Me I" "If ye love Me I" 0 cruel " IF." why is this?
Is it possible that this can be a doubt?  Love Thee, "the brightness
of the Father's glory, and the express image of His person I" all my
hope —all my joy; life of my life-soul of my soul. If I love Thee!
why, it would be better for me to have my love to my wife, my
children, my parents, my friends, my dearest enjoyments, doubtful,
than to have this so; and is it possible Thou shouldst be in earnest,
to preface such an expression as this with an "if?"  Ah I my brethren, however deplorable the case, let us to-night enter into our own
hearts: let us do Jesus Christ justice, and let us acknowledge, that
if on the one hand there be the highest excellence in Him, which is
the greatest reason of man's love to Him, on the other there is the
deepest depravity in us; and it is matter of fact that though this
should be the clearest of all things, it is, most of all things, with
relation to man, that which may and ought to be doubted of. 0
this word "if/"  0 that I could tear it out of my heart I 0 thou
poison of all my pleasures! Thou cold, icy hand that touchest me
so often and freezest me with the touch I "If! If " Would to God
we might all to-night be desirous with the whole soul, and determined by grace to get rid of it  Hear your divine Master, Christians; He does not mean to put your souls to shame; He is the skillful Physician, telling you the worst of the case, but with the kind
intention of restoring you to health. " If ye love Me "-if you would
put your love to Me out of all doubt, " keep My commandrment."
May God write this word upon our hearts in all its sacred import I
Let us enter upon the subject.
You know this was a part of Jesus Christ's final address to His
Apostles. There is something very affecting in this last discourse,
and particularly in one word of it; no pencil can describe, the finest
fancy can hardly imagine how Christ looked when He stood before
the twelve and said, " I have many things to say to you." Who
can doubt it? He was an ocean of knowledge, and He loved dearly
to impart it; why did He not then?  "But ye can not bear them
now." Accordingly, therefore, as Jesus Christ's disciples could bear,
when He came to die He opened His heart to them, and gave them
the fullest display of His inward love the nearer He came to the verge
of life; and thus, in some respects, all His servants imitate Him, for
they each begin, if I may so speak, with a ray, and. to use an ex.




OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST. 351
pression of Scripture, " shine more and more to the perfect day," and
most of all, many of them upon their death-beds.
Christians, go home to-night and feast yourselves with this chapter. Think how happy the men were that asked and had, who could
put all their scruples to Christ, and who found in Christ a tender
Master, not above answering the weakest of them. A great part of
his chapter, particularly the verses just before the text, seem to be
love; and without detaining you longer in the context, my text is a
sort of conclusion from premises, and it contains the whole: "If ye
love Me, keep My commandments." And, indeed, though I am not
able to bear in this life all my Saviour could tell me-though I could
not stand under the weight of that wisdom that He could impart to
me-though my passions are not able to apply, and exercise, and
work the ideas He could give me —though I have no penetration so
deep, no love so high, no passion so strong, that can carry on the
great employ-yet surely here is one, and that is love. His love to
me, and mine to Him. Here is one interwoven idea that I will even
stretch my soul to come at, yea, I will turn out half the inhabitants
of my soul to make it room. But, in order to give our subject a
sort of method, we will observe to you in the
First place, that Jesus Christ-who can doubt this? need I stand
a moment to prove it? I say-hear it-Jesus Christ merits the
highest love of all His people.
Secondly, I am forced to add, which is also too clear, notwithstanding all this merit of Christ, there are in His disciples such
things as render their love to Christ-what shall I say-suspicious?
suspicious? Is that the word? Yes-suspected.
Lastly, We point out to you the method proposed by the Lord
Jesus to get rid of all that renders our love to Him suspicious. 0
hear the words that say to you to-night, Christians, "If ye love Me,
keep My commandments." It is equal to saying, " If you would
put your love out of all doubt, put your obedience out of all doubt;
go into His Gospel as a man goes aboard a ship, all in all-body
and soul." God grant these truths may be impressed upon your
hearts I I will speak a moment on each.
1. I said, first of all, that "Jesus Christ merited the highest
esteem of all His disciples." You see I change the word " love" for
" esteem," and the truth of the matter is, I do not know any word
equal to the just idea we wish to convey by it: love is the noblest
passion of the human soul, but it often appears the most ridiculous,
because it often blindly pursues objects least of all fit for it. We
are afraid, therefore, when we speak of such an object as Jesus




352                 ROBERT ROBINOgN.
Christ, to talk of loving Him, lest the miser should think we meal
that regard to Christ which a wretch has for his money; or that the
man who lives only to love should think that the regard we have to
Christ resembles his love to himself; or lest the parent should think
the regard we have to Christ is the regard he has to his children.
It is all that is good in each of these, and it is infinitely more. It is
something refined and heavenly; it is something free from gross
sense and matter; it is something we call love for want of a better
word, but it is something which others call attachment, a cleaving
to an object, just as when any object seems to suit entirely your
apprehension, and you are fixed at it; and some call it esteem and
veneration: call it what we will, it is a sacred passion, a bond that
unites the soul to Jesus Christ: it is raised by Christ's Spirit Himself in the heart; it has for its object Christ; and it has this mark
of its divinity —it outlives mortality, it never, never dies. And
does any man to-night say, " I know Christ as well as you do, for
you know nothing of Him but what the Bible tells you; and, for
my part, I do not think He deserves any esteem?" No-not one
of you can say so. We can not say so as men; for if it were necessary to-night, we could prove that mankind are better for Christ's
coming: we can not say so as members of the community: if it
were necessary we could prove that servants enjoy service instead
of slavery-which was common when Christ lived-through His
doctrine, the benefit of which all this nation has felt in that respect;
nor will we say how many mercies the nation has received in answer
to the prayers, and on account of the Gospel that is given to the
people. of God; we will not say all this; but, my brethren, there
are two or three words we will say. In the first place, Jesus Christ
merits our love, because He is in Himself independent of all the
benefits flowing from Him, the most lovely of all objects. Read His
life, and see what kind of a Person He was; how just, how kind,
how prudent, how punctual, in all cases how full of attention;
nothing escaped His notice, nor was any thing beyond the reach of
His humanity and benevolence. Christ! O if I were never to derive
a benefit from Him, I should think it a blessing to me at present
even to read His history, and I should congratulate humanity that
such a Person ever stood upon the earth; but it is upon this account
I mention a second.
2. The disciples of Jesus Christ have received from Him a body
of sound, comfortable instruction. When Christ came into the
world, he came very wise; He was GOD, and the Godhead filled the
humanity as the powers of humanity could receive it, so that " He




OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST. 353
grew in wisdom, and in stature, and in favor both with God and
man." And one great part of His life, and one great business of
His life, was to communicate His own ideas, His notions of God,
His notions of man, His sentiments of a future state, His ideas of
the present world, His notions of hell, his ideas of heaven; in a
word, Christ opened to us-O how are we indebted to Him for it!the invisible, the till then unknown and impenetrable to angels,
heart of God. My brethren, have you ever thought of that saying
of Christ among others, " God loved the world?" And who could be
sure of that? especially that He should love it so as to produce the
effects which followed: " God so loved the world that He gave His
only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should not
perish, but have everlasting life?" Is not that opening to us the
most impenetrable of all places? if I may use an improper word
when speaking of God. Is not that opening to us the most desirable
of all objects? Is not that telling us all we want to know-the
mind, the intent, the heart of God toward wretched man? And
what, my Divine Master I after I have sat at Thy feet and been instructed in this encouraging doctrine, got rid of my darkness and
ignorance, and been led unto the comfort and truth of the Gospel,
shall I rise up and say Thou art not the object of my esteem? Ah I
go all that is written upon any other subject; take away all that has
been said on any other branch of knowledge; take away all my
own reasonings —and in some of them we have had a thousand
sweets-here I find rock; here I may' build; the testimonies of
Christ are the true sayings of God; and we are indebted to Christ
infinitely for His doctrine.
3. As His person is lovely, and His doctrine lays one obligation,,so His infinite merit lays another. I shall not enter to-night into
this doctrine. I thank God it is no news in our churches, it is
taught every day; as Moses of old was read in the synagogue every
Sabbath, so is Christ, blessed be the good Providence of God,
preached in our churches; and preached how? preached as a Mediator, an only and sufficient mediator between God and you guilty
men. The merit of His blood, the excellency of His righteousness,,he glory of His priesthood, all this summed up in one word-" a
lays-man," one who can lay His hands upon both parties, great and
9ure enough to speak to God, kind and meek enough to speak to
nen; and by the merit of His life and death able to bring both
ogether —this is the Christ that is daily preached among you, and
f any of you have received by faith the testimony that God has
riven of His Son in this respect, oh I if the load of guilt has gone
23




854                ROBERT ROBINSON.
off your minds, oh! if you have gone to a throne of grace, and seen
the face of a tender parent, oh I if you have ever tasted matchless
mercy and redeeming love-love that shuts hell-love that opens
heaven —love that calms a reproaching conscience —love that sets all
the soul at ease, and says': Peace, be of good cheer, thy sins are for.
given!" O, God! shall we, after all this, rise up and say we are not
obliged to love Christ?  Who loved us in the garden? Who loved
us upon the cross? And who said there-who said there " It is fin.
ished?" shall we, after all this profusion of goodness, shall we say
we are not obliged to love him?
4. 1WTe are obliged to love Jesus Christ for His laws. It is wonderful to see the perverseness of the human mind; we avoid Christ,
left to ourselves, as we would a tyrant, and we are as much afraid of
His service as we are of sickness or of a misfortune, and when any
of us are pressed into it (I speak of unconverted people) we are very
uneasy under it, and glad when it is over; while we are held to it
we are birds kept in the unnatural heated place of a human hand,
and when we are let go and the service is over, we are birds in the
natural expanse, hither and thither, this way and that way, to and
fro, and every where rather than into the hand that once held us.
But, Lord Jesus, is it true that Thy yoke is slavery?   ast Thou
indeed brought a body of laws that distract people to obey? And
dost Thou need rack my soul to bring it right? Ah! my brethren,
let us own it is a great truth, that sin was not made for man, or,
which is the same, that man's soul was not made for sin; and when
he practices sin, he disturbs himself, and does what his nature is not
fitted to; he is a kind of large, complicated machine, all the wheels
go placid, and smooth, and easy when he works righteousness and
holiness, and the wheels are racked and torn, spoiled and distorted,
when he works the works of sin, for which he was never constructed.
I appeal to you, you know what it is to be angry. The Devil's law
is this, "Fire at him, revile him, revenge yourself on him, hate him.
Hate him when you go to bed, hate him when you rise. Keep it
rankling in your soul all your life, and do not forgive him when you
die. Pursue him with your last will and testament, and harass him,
if it be possible, many years after your death." That is the Devil's
law. Is that like the law of Christ, which says "Forgive him?" forgive him, and be happy —forgive him, and do as I do. Be settled
and steady, so that sin itself can not disturb your pleasure. I ask,
in which case is a man easiest and safest? Yes, you are infinitely
obliged to Christ for bringing you under His laws (some of you,
alas!) I think I hear one say within himself " Indeed I am, for if I




OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST. 355
had not been brought under the laws of religion, I had been dead
and damned under my crimes long before now."  And another says
" If Thou hadst not brought my soul under the law of hope, I had
killed myself through absolute despair; I owe my life to my obedience
to Christ."  And another will say, " And I owe all the comforts of my
life to Him; if I had continued following in the same course I set
out in, I had poisoned my children; but I love Christ, for Christ
made me obey Him, and I train my children in the fear of God, and
now I have the pleasure that every man can not enjoy, of seeing
them, not only as olive-plants around my table, but as plants in
God's house, sitting around His table. I have seen them put off the
world, I have seen them put on Christ. 0 my God, these things my
eyes have seen, in consequence of His blessing on my obeying His
laws." Well, then, to sum these reflections up, Christ in Himself is
a Person infinitely lovely, both as God and man. Christ has laid
us under obligations to love Him, by teaching us a body of comfortable knowledge. He has obliged us to love Him by giving His life,
His blood, a ransom for our souls. He has obliged us to love Him
by giving us His laws, and giving us the means to obey them; so
that I think our first part is sufficiently clear-" Christians are bound
to love Jesus Christ."
II. Oh, if we were to enter into the spirit of the second thing
we proposed! but it must be short-it must be short-yes, it must
be short; but if we were to enter into the spirit of it, should we not
enter into every thing great, and good, aud amiable in men? For
if it be true that Christians have any thing in them to render their
love to Christ suspicious, even to themselves, it must imply that
some rebellious act has been done to the understanding, some force
to the conscience, some violence to the passions. Great God! to turn
men from Thee, the Creator, to bring the creature to be insensible to
the Creator, the child to his parent-why what has been done to
him? Ah, my brethren, the subject is too melancholy; proofs would
be too easy; and I must leave this part of my subject to your meditation, only hinting two or three things by way of clew. We do not
imagine that our love in the sight of God is doubtful to Him-no
such thing; no clouds can conceal the real state of man from Him;
it is impossible that any artifice, or hypocrisy, any form, any words,
any professions, any reputation, can hide man from God, or put him
off for what he is not. God pries into the heart of a sinner, and sees
that, with all his pretenses, he does not love Him. God pries into
thy heart, thou fallen saint, and sees that, under all thy infirmity,
thou dost love Him. God is not deceived, and our love to Him is




856                 ROBERT ROBINSON.
not suspicious; there is nothing so to Him: "All things are certai
as all things are naked in the eyes of Him with whom we have to
do." I do not say that Christians' love to Christ should be suspicious one to another. It is an ugly disposition, contrary to Scripture,
and contrary to the spirit and genius of Christians, to be always
watching their brethren, and taking occasion, from the least infirmity,
to suppose their hearts are not right. Ah! spend your days who
will in so unprofitable, inhuman a work; I will not spend mine so.
I will hope the greatest sinner among us has, at least, a sincere desire to love Jesus Christ. I speak of such, when I call them great
sinners, as are real Christians in all appearance, and yet have suspicions in their conduct almost incompatible with Christianity. No;
I will not suspect you. Do not let my soul say, if you should be
absent on a Lord's day (perhaps confined by sickness), " His heart is
cold, or else he would be here." Do not let me say, when you hang
down your head like a bulrush " You are a man that do not enter
into the spirit of Christianity."  I will suppose you are sick; I will
suppose there is something amiss in your family; I will suppose a
thousand things rather than this unnatural, abominable thing, that
you do not love Christ. But after all the suspicions that we speak
of, when we have dealt the most impartially we can, some good man
perhaps will be obliged to say, " I must own that there are many
things in me that render my love to Christ doubtful. O Lord Jesus
Christ I if I loved Thee, could I be so backward to read my Bible?
If I loved Thee, could I be so reluctant to speak to Thee in prayer?
I should feel Thee surely, in my closet, should I not? and hold
communion with Thee, if things were as they ought to be, and as
Thou hast a right to expect they will be. I should not be so pressed
to hear the word of God, if I loved Thee; surely, if I loved Thee,
I should embrace every opportunity to hear of Christ, the great object of my esteem. Ah  if I loved Thee, I should not have my
passions thus agitated with every little affair. If I loved Christ, I
should not be so startled at the sound of death." Brethren, permit me
to say this, that though all these things render love suspected, yet I
do think a distinction ought to be made between the life and the
growth of love in the soul. Permit me to shorten the matter by a
plain simile. Suppose I have a fruit-tree in my garden, in my orchard, that I expect should produce, of a favorite kind of fruit, a large
crop; I go round it, and round it, and I say, " What could I have
done more for my tree, and I have not done it? The soil is suited
to the nature of the tree, it has been kept guarded from injury by
beasts. Yea, what could God have done more for my tree, and He




OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST  8b7
bath not done it?  He has given it rain as if He nursed it, and was
gardener unto me, and attended unto my mean affairs; He has given
the sun to shine upon it; He has averted blasts that have fallen else.
where. I hope my tree will bear fruit. I go round it, and round
it, in the spring, and I see it bud. Alas I I have full proof it is
alive, but the buds are so weak, the progress of the growth so slow,. so
very faint, that I have great doubts whether it will blossom; and when
it blossoms, they seem so discolored, so languid, and fall off at such
a gentle breeze, that I have still great doubts whether it will bear
fruit; and after all, perhaps with all its advantages, it brings forth
one or two where there should have been a great crop to fill my
wishes. Just thus it is with Christians; they have reason, great reason, to acknowledge that God could not have done any thing more;
He declares He could not have done any thing more, consistent with
His own perfections, to make man holy and happy. And alas I is it
not doubtful if we have love when we do not bring forth fruit as we
ought? I mean, in plain style, if the Christian has proof that he
has love to Christ he has reason to doubt whether that love be so
strong and vigorous as it ought to be from a man who has received
so many mercies from Christ I Let me remark to you a train of
seaf-examination. I have faith in you that you will realize it; yes,
I believe you will realize it.
One will sit down and think with himself —" I was born of godly
parents, I was taught the sweet name of Christ at my mother's knee.
As soon as I could understand, I was carried to hear the Gospel, and
every friend, every friend that surrounded me turned my little eye
to Christ crucified, and said,' Behold the Lamb of God.' My father,
my dying father endeavored to seal-with his departing breath, and
a look that I shall never forget-endeavored to seal the Gospel upon
my heart, and when he had done speaking with his mouth, with his
looks and the pressure of his hand he did as much as say' Never leave
Him, nor forsake Him.' One would have thought that this was
enough to make me embark entirely in Christ's cause. Have I done
so?" Why, such a man will compare his advantages with his fruitfulness, he will adore God for the first, and he will be shocked with
himself on account of the last.
Well, brethren, I leave this part of my subject, for I declare I
can not at present, if your time would allow, I can not bear to investigate it. No, I do not think to-night I could have strength and
courage to go into a minute history of the actions that cause suspicions of the Christian's love to Christ. Who can repeat a neglected
Bible? a slighted Christ? a forgotten or insulted God? Who can




358               ROBERT ROBINSON.
speak of the wretch that can rise of a morning, follow his pleasures
and never return thanks for the mercies of his life? Who can speak
of the wretch who once said, "Thou art fairer than the sun, with
Thee I will live, and with Thee I will die, and with Thee I will
spend an eternity of songs and praises," and the next day "forget
His works?" No, go into your closets and think of it yourselves.
It is a solemn truth " There is much in all Christians to render their
love to Christ suspected."
III. And what am I doing? Am I exciting undue fears in your
souls? No, I am not; at least I would not, and for that reason I
have distinguished between the being and the growth of love. And
I have wished that not only we might know we love Christ a little,
but that we might know we love Him so much that our little love
was allowed to be strong-yea, that we had full proof, without a
doubt, that we love Him beyond every other object in the world.
Come, let us hear His voice. Christ looks on you, ye timid souls,
you, who durst not die, and start from the sound when it is uttered
in your ears-Christ looks to you, ye timorous creatures, who durst
not draw near to a throne of grace, and He pities your condition,
and says to you, " If you would put your love to Me out of doubt,
keep My commandments," —keep My commandments. Do not ask if
there is any other way; this is the King's high-road, the straightforward way-shall I take the liberty to say to-night the commonsense way, " If ye love Me keep My commandments."  I call it the
King's high-road because in this way all who enjoy Christianity live;
but let us be particular, though we will but hint at particulars.
If you will put your love to Christ out of doubt, you must keep
His commandments universally; that is one cause of doubt, because
we keep them partially. My brethren, in what light do you view
yourselves when you look at Christ's commandments? Why, you
are a sort of gentleman, to whom Jesus Christ proposes His law as a
matter of complimentary invitation, and you take the liberty to
reject it, as if you had as much right to reject His invitations as He
has to give them; but you should not do so, it is that wicked spirit
that makes us take and pick Christ's commandments, keep this, and
leave that, remember this, forget that, and thus some people will go to
hear God's Word, not to the ordinance of baptism, some to that of
baptism, not to the Lord's Supper; some to all these but give noth.
ing to the poor, though they can afford it; others to all of them we
have mentioned, and yet not to the doctrine of humility-a command
of Christ, when they have done-for after all they should say, " We
are unprofitable servants." Keep Christ's commandments univers




OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CBRRIST. 359
ally, and then you will have a proof of your love to Him. I will
tell you why we are all inclined to keep some of Christ's commands.
Forgive me if I keep you a few moments longer, perhaps I shall not
see you a long time after this; I say we are all of us inclined to keep
Christ's commandments by constitution —some of them. Now, if I
observe from my constitution and make, it proves nothing, but if I
keep all His commandments, and those that go against my constitution and habits, why then I give proof that I act, not upon selfish
but on Christian principles, not upon my own ideas, but upon those
of Jesus Christ. For instance, one person loves retirement, and to
be alone, a constitutional turn. Jesus Christ commands Christians
to be in their closets, to pray, and to search the Word; that man
retires, reads and prays, but must I say all this proves nothing?
That same person is disposed to be strict and covetous, but now, if
that person was to observe the constitutional commandment, and
observe those too which go against his disposition, if he becomes
bountiful, benevolent, open-hearted, "a liberal man who deviseth liberal things," I call that man a strong Christian, who acts not upon his
own ideas, but upon those of Jesus Christ; he thereby proves that
he has imbibed the Gospel, and that the spirit of it lives in his soul.
What right have I, wretch that I am, to act thus? I dare not treat
my friends so; I dare not treat my parents so; I dare not treat my
master so; what right have I, wretch that I am, to pick and choose
which of His commandments I will keep, and which I will leave undone? Am I not bound to observe all, by the same ties that I am
bound to observe one? And therefore, if you would put your love
to Me out of doubt, keep My commandments universally.
Secondly, If you would put your love to Me out of doubt, keep
My commandments constantly.  Some keep Christ's commandments
in the meeting-house, and in good company. Ah! but out of the
meeting-house, with friends, and in other company, and alone toowhose men are you then?  Can you from your souls say: "I am
most sincerely Jesus Christ's. When I am alone I think of Him;
my meditations of Him are sweet. I pray to Him, though it be
but ejaculating, as I turn the corner of a street, as I am going about
my business, as I am lying in my bed, when I am concerned in the
things of the world; often in a day my soul aspires to Him, and by
one word-but that one word keeps the way open between me and
my only Friend-I say, "Lord, be merciful to me. Lord, quicken
me. Lord, lift up the light of Thy countenance upon me. Lord,
keep me from evil." Am I in the clouds while I speak thus? The
Christian's heart will reply, No; you are in my very experience.




860               ROBERT ROBINSON.
Why, then, you are men that are in the high road to obtain, by a
holy, universal life of love, a full testimony that you do love Christ
sincerely.
Brethren, I conclude. Lastly, If you would put your love to
Jesus out of doubt, keep His commandments when you lose by
keeping them.  Do not let us keep Christ's commandments only
when we gain reputation by it, but let us keep His commandments
in those articles in which we are sure to lose. I will give you an
instance or two. If you enter into the modern virtue of charity,
and put your hand into your pocket and give nobly to a charitable
plate, by that you will gain reputation; all will applaud you (supposing all along that you are well able to do so); but if that be
your rule of action, and you only serve Christ where you gain in
the present state, believe me your love to Christ may, and if this be
all, will be accounted precarious or suspicious. There are certain
duties that are out of fashion, and there are certain virtues that
almost the bulk of men, even formal, decent Pharisees, agree to run
down. Now, if you can go into the practice of these virtues, and
agree with all your heart to give up as well as to acquire for Christ's
sake, undoubtedly you have that genuine mark of true Christianity,
that love to Christ which rises out of an attachment to Him, in cases
where your own interest can not possibly guide you.
Let us depart-and let us bear upon our minds this word. We
are going —whither? some of us to leisure, some of us to business;
some of us to prosper, some of us to decay; some of us to health
and prosperity, friendship, joy, and long life; others of us to poverty, sickness, long and wasting illness and pain; and in the end,
death. And to us all does not the Prince of peace say, " If ye love
Me keep My commandments?" I know some of you are going to
affliction; "if you love Me, be submissive to Me and patient under
your afflictions." Others of you are going into prosperity and joy;
"if ye love Me, do not be elated with these, they are but momentary and worldly things." Love Me, your Lord and Redeemer,
above all. "If ye love Me keep My commandments."  If ye love
Me, love Me to the last moment, for even then I command you "to
commit the keeping of your soul to Me in well-doing, as unto a
faithful Creator." And we ministers of Christ, shall not we pay a
special attention to this word of our Saviour? What obligations
are we under to love Him? What obligations are we under to
adore Him? and, being under these obligations, have not we in our
least infirmity, stronger arguments to doubt of our attachment to
Christ than our fellow Christians? Lord, forbid our love to Thee




OBEDIENCE THE TRUE TEST OF LOVE TO CHRIST. 361
should be doubtful. Let our love to every thing in the world be
doubtful but this; but let us love Him, and love Him so as to keep
His commandments; so as to keep all His commandments, and
those particularly which respect the teaching and manifestation of
His doctrine; those doctrines particularly which are the most contemned, and the most out of fashion. Happy men! to whom Christ
will at last say, " You are they who have followed Me in the regen.
eratiot  You have continued with Me in My temptations, and
now I appoint to you a kingdom." May God so bless the end of
our preaching to us all 




DISCOURSE TWENTYISEVENTH
ROBERT HALL, A.M.
THIs distinguished sacred orator was born at Arnsby, near Leicester,
on the second of May, 1764. Before he was nine years of age he read
and reread, with intense interest, Edwards on the Will and Butler's
Analogy. After making great progress in study under other instructors,
he entered Bristol Institution as a student of theology; and in 1780, at
the early age of sixteen, was ordained to the ministry. The next year,
however, he entered King's College, Aberdeen, was the first scholar in
his class, and came to be considered as a model of social, moral, and religious excellence. For five years next succeeding 1785, Hall acted as
assistant-pastor at Broadmead and classical tutor in the Academy. In
1790 he succeeded Robert Robinson as pastor of the Baptist Church
at Cambridge, and his labors were not only greatly admired but richly
blessed in the extension of religion. In 1804 his health, never confirmed, became exceedingly feeble, and his mind suffered several temporary aberrations, which made it necessary that he should resign his
pastoral charge. These severe calamities were sanctified to his spiritual
good; and, with a deepened piety, it became his custom, henceforward,
each birth-day, to solemnly dedicate himself afresh to God. In 1807
Hall assumed the pastorate at Leicester, which he successfully filled for
nearly twenty years. In 1826 he became the successor of Dr. Ryland
in Broadmead, Bristol, where he labored till the time of his decease, in
February 1831.
Hall's extraordinary powers of pulpit eloquence are universally
known. His voice was feeble, and his delivery not graceful, but the
power of his language was irresistible. Multitudes hung upon his lips
with breathless silence, and went away penetrated with a sense of his
wonderful pulpit abilities. The qualities which rendered him, as a
preacher, s4 impressive, seem to have been an imperial and richly-stored
fancy; an exquisite appreciation of the beautiful; definiteness of aim;
a distinct conception of his thoughts, and a complete mastery of language in which to invest them; the ready command of ample and varied
proofs and illustrations; a cogent, but easy, natural logic; great powers
of analyzation; perfect abstraction and self-absorption in his subject




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED                    863
an earnestness, seriousness of spirit and manner; and a certain tone of
kindness, which insensibly drew to the preacher the hearts of the
hearers.
As a writer, Hall has always been held in the highest estimation.
"There is a living writer," said Dugald Stuart, "who combines the beauties of Johnson, Addison, and Burke, without their imperfections. It is
a dissenting minister of Cambridge, the Rev. Robert Hall. Whoever
wishes to see the English language in perfection, must read his writings." He was a great admirer and constant reader of the Greek and
Roman classics, and none of his compositions are destitute of those delicate gleams of imagery and felicitous turns of expression which led the
Editor of the "London Magazine" to pronounce Hall's style " one of
the clearest and simplest-the least encumbered with its own beauty —
of any which has ever been written."  Few of the Sermons of Hall,
unfortunately, come to us entire; as he seldom committed them to
writing, though they were generally elaborated in his mind. His great
sermon is that which is here given. It was preached at Bristol in Octo.
ber, and at Cambridge in November of the year 1800, and published at
the urgent solicitation of his friends. Though unwritten at the time of
its delivery, Hall afterward wrote it out himself, by spells, partly while
lying on his back, from extreme pain. Though very long, it can not be
reduced in size, and is therefore given entire. The notes only are
omitted.
MODERN INFIDELITY CONSIDERED.
"Without God in the world." —EPHES. ii. 12.
As the Christian ministry is established for the instruction of
men, throughout every age, in truth and holiness, it must adapt
itself to the ever-shifting scenes of the moral world, and stand ready
to repel the attacks of impiety and error, under whatever form they
may appear. The Church and the world form two societies so distinct, and are governed by such opposite principles and maxims,
that, as well from this contrariety as from the express warnings of
Scripture, true Christians must look for a state of warfare, with this
consoling assurance, that the Church, like the burning bush beheld
by Moses in the land of Midian, may be encompassed with flames,
but will never be consumed.
When she was delivered from the persecuting power of Rome,
she only experienced a change of trials. The oppression of external violence was followed by the more dangerous and insidious




364                   ROBERT HALL.
attacks of internal enemies. The freedom and inquiry claimed ~nd
asserted at the Reformation degenerated, in the hands of men who
professed the principles without possessing the spirit of the Reform.
ers, into a fondness for speculative refinements; and, consequently,
into a source of dispute, faction, and heresy. While Protestants
attended more to the points on which they differed than to those on
vhich they agreed-while more zeal was employed in settling ceremonies and defending subtleties than in enforcing plain revealed
truths-the lovely fruits of peace and charity perished under the
storms of controversy.
In this disjointed and disordered state of the Christian Church,
they who never looked into the interior of Christianity were apt to
suspect, that to a subject so fruitful in particular disputes must attach
a general uncertainty; and that a religion founded on revelation
could never have occasioned such discordancy of principle and practice among its disciples. Thus infidelity is the joint offspring of an
irreligious temper and unholy speculation, employed, not in examining the evidences of Christianity, but in detecting the vices and
imperfections of professing Christians. It has passed through various stages, each distinguished by higher gradations of impiety; for
when men arrogantly abandon their guide, and willfully shut their
eyes on the light of heaven, it is wisely ordained that their errors
shall multiply at every step, until their extravagance confutes itself,
and the mischief of their principles works its own antidote. That
such has been the progress of infidelity will be obvious from a slight
survey of its history.
Lord Herbert, the first and purest of our English freethinkers,
who flourished in the beginning or the reign of Charles the First,
lid not so much impugn the doctrine or the morality of the Scripures as attempt to supersede their necessity, by endeavoring to show
that the great principles of the unity of God, a moral government,
and a future world, are taught with sufficient clearness by the light
of nature. Bolingbroke, and some of his successors, advanced much
further, and attempted to invalidate the proofs of the moral character of the Deity, and consequently all expectations of rewards and
punishments; leaving the Supreme Being no other perfections than
those which belong to a first cause, or almighty contriver. After
him, at a considerable distance, followed Hume, the most subtle, if
not the most philosophical, of the Deists; who, by perplexing the
relations of cause and effect, boldly aimed to introduce a universal
skepticism, and to pour a more than Egyptian darkness into the
whole region of morals. Since his time skeptical writers have




MODERN INFIDELITY CONSIDERED.                  865
sprung up in abundance, and infidelity has allured multitudes to its
standard; the young and superficial, by its dexterous sophistry, the
vain by the literary fame of its champions, and the profligate by the
licentiousness of its principles. Atheism the most undisguised has
at length begun to make its appearance.
Animated by numbers and emboldened by success, the infidels
of the present day have given a new direction to their efforts, and
impressed a new character on the ever-growing mass of their impious speculations.
By uniting more closely with each other, by giving a sprinkling
of irreligion to all their literary productions, they aim to engross the
formation of the public mind; and, amid the warmest professions
of attachment to virtue, to effect an entire disruption of morality
from religion. Pretending to be the teachers of virtue and the guides
of life, they propose to revolutionize the morals of mankind; to
regenerate the world by a process entirely new; and to rear the
temple of virtue, not merely without the aid of religion, but on the
renunciation of its principles and the derision of its sanctions. Their
party has derived a great accession of numbers and strength from
events the most momentous and astonishing in the political world,
which have divided the sentiments of Europe between hope and
terror; and which, however they may issue, have, for the present,
swelled the ranks of infidelity. So rapidly, indeed, has it advanced
since this crisis, that a great majority on the Continent, and in England a considerable proportion of those who pursue literature as a
profession, may justly be considered as the open or disguised abettors of atheism.
With respect to the skeptical and religious systems, the inquiry
at present is not so much which is the truest in speculation as which
is the most useful in practice; or, in other words, whether morality
will be best promoted by considering it as a part of a great and comprehensive law, emanating from the will of a supreme, omnipotent
legislator; or as a mere expedient, adapted to our present situation,
enforced by no other motives than those which arise from the prospects and interests of the present state. The absurdity of atheism
having been demonstrated so often and so clearly by many eminent
men that this part of the subject is exhausted, I should hasten immediately to what I have more particularly in view, were I not apprehensive a discourse of this kind may be expected to contain
some statement of the argument in proof of a Deity; which, there.
fore I shall present in as few and plain words as possible.
Whes we examine a watch, or any other piece of machinery we




866                   ROBERT HALL.
instantly perceive marks of design. The arrangement of its several
parts, and the adaptation of its movements to one result, show it to
be a contrivance; nor do we e-ver imagine the faculty of contriving
to be in the watch itself, but in a separate agent. If we turn from
art to nature, we behold a vast magazine of contrivances: we see
innumerable objects replete with the most exquisite design. The
human eye, for example, is formed with admirable skill for the purpose of sight, the ear for the function of hearing. As the productions of art we never think of ascribing the power of contrivance to
the machine itself, so we are certain the skill displayed in the human
structure is not a property of man, since he is very imperfectly acquainted with his own formation. If there be an inseparable relation between the ideas of a contrivance and a contriver, and it be
evident in regard to the human structure, the designing agent is not
man himself, there must undeniably be some separate invisible being,
who is his former. This great Being we mean to indicate by the
appellation of Deity.
This reasoning admits but of one reply. Why, it will be said,
may we not suppose the world has always continued as it is; that is,
that there has been a constant succession of finite beings, appearing
and disappearing on the earth from all eternity? I answer, what.
ever is supposed to have occasioned this constant succession, exclusive of an intelligent cause, will never account for the undeniable
marks of design visible in all finite beings. Nor is the absurdity
of supposing a contrivance without a contriver diminished by this
imaginary succession; but rather increased, by being repeated at
every step of the series.
Besides, an eternal succession of finite beings involves in it a
contradiction, and is therefore plainly impossible. As the supposi.
tion is made to get quit of the idea of any one having existed from
eternity, each of the beings in the succession must have begun in
time: but the succession itself is eternal. We have then the succession of beings infinitely earlier than any being in the succession; or,
in other words, a series of beings running on, ad infinitum, before it
reached any particular being, which is absurd.
From these considerations it is manifest there must be some eternal Being, or nothing could ever have existed, and since the beings
which we behold bear in their whole structure evident marks of
wisdom and design, it is equally certain that He who formed them is
a wise and intelligent agent.
To prove the unity of this great Being, in opposition to a plurality
of gods, it is not necessary to have recourse to metaphysical ab



MODERN  INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                  367
stractions. It is sufficient to observe that the notion of more than
one author of nature is inconsistent with that harmony of design
which pervades her works; that it explains no appearances, is supported by no evidence, and serves no purpose but to embarrass and
perplex our conceptions.
Such are the proofs of the existence of that great and glorious
Being whom we denominate God; and it is not presumption to say
it is impossible to find another truth in the whole compass of morals
which, according to the justest laws of reasoning, admits of such
strict and rigorous demonstration.
But I proceed to the more immediate object of this discourse,
which, as has been already intimated, is not so much to evince the
falsehood of skepticism as a theory, as to display its mischievous
effects, contrasted with those which result from the belief of a Deity
and a future state. The subject, viewed in this light, may be considered under two aspects; the influence of the opposite systems on
the principles of morals and on the formation of character. The
first may be styled their direct, the latter their equally important,
but indirect, consequence and tendency.
I. The skeptical or irreligious system subverts the whole foundation of morals. It may be assumed as a maxim that no person can
be required to act contrary to his greatest good, or his highest interest, comprehensively viewed in relation to the whole duration of his
being. It is often our duty to forego our own interest partially, to
sacrifice a smaller pleasure for the sake of a greater, to incur a
present evil in pursuit of a distant good of more consequence. In
a word, to arbitrate among interfering claims of inclination is the
moral arithmetic of human life. But to risk the happiness of the
whole duration of our being in any case whatever, were it possible,
would be foolish; because the sacrifice must, by the nature of it, be
so great as to preclude the possibility of compensation.
As the present world, on skeptical principles, is the only place of
recompense, whenever the practice of virtue fails to promise the
greatest sum of present good-cases which often occur in reality,
and much oftener in appearance-every motive to virtuous conduct
is superseded; a deviation from rectitude becomes the part of wisdom; and should the path of virtue, in addition to this, be obstructed
by disgrace, torment, or death, to persevere would be madness and
folly, and a violation of the first and most essential law of nature.
Virtue, on these principles, being in numberless instances at war
with self-preservation, never can, or ought to become, a fixed habit
of the mind




368                   ROBERT HALL.
The system of infidelity is not only incapable of arming virtue for
great and trying occasions, but leaves it unsupported in the most
ordinary occurrences. In vain will its advocates appeal to a moral
sense, to benevolence and sympathy; for it is undeniable that these
impulses may be overcome. In vain will they expatiate on the tranquillity and pleasure attendant on a virtuous course: for though you
may remind the offender that in disregarding them he has violated
his nature, and that a conduct consistent with them is productive of
much internal satisfaction; yet if he reply that his taste is of a
different sort, that there are other gratifications which he values
more, and that every man must choose his own pleasures, the argument is at an end.
Rewards and punishments, assigned by infinite power, afford a
palpable and pressing motive which can never be neglected without
renouncing the character of a rational creature: but tastes and relishes
are not to be prescribed.
A motive in which the reason of man shall acquiesce, enforcing
the practice of virtue at all times and seasons, enters into the very
essence of moral obligation. Modern infidelity supplies no such
motives: it is therefore essentially and infallibly a system of enervation, turpitude, and vice.
This chasm in the construction of morals can only be supplied
by the firm belief of a rewarding and avenging Deity, who binds
duty and happiness, though they may seem distant, in an indissoluble chain; without which, whatever usurps the name of virtue is not
a principle, but a feeling; not a determinate rule, but a fluctuating
expedient, varying with the tastes of individuals, and changing with
the scenes of life.
Nor is this the only way in which infidelity subverts the founda.
tion of morals. All reasoning on morals presupposes a distinction
between inclinations and duties, affections and rules. The former
prompt; the latter prescribe. The former supply motives to action;
the latter regulate and control it. Hence it is evident, if virtue have
any just claim to authority, it must be under the latter of these notions; that is, under the character of a law. It is under this notion,
infact, that its dominion has ever been acknowledged to be para.
mount and supreme.
But, without the intervention of a superior will, it is impossible
there should be any moral laws, except in the lax metaphorical sense
in which we speak of the laws of matter and motion. Men being
essentially equal, morality is, on these principles, only a stipulation,
or silent compact, into which every individual is supposed to enter,




MODERN INFIDELITY CONSIDERED.                  369
as far as suits his convenience, and for the breach of which he is accountable to nothing but his own mind. His own mind is his law
his tribunal, and his judge I
Two consequences, the most disastrous to society. will inevitably
follow the general prevalence of this system:-the frequent perpetration of great crimes, and the total absence of great virtues.
1. In those conjunctures which tempt avarice or inflame ambition,
when a crime flatters with the prospect of impunity, and the certainty of immense advantage, what is to restrain an atheist from its
commission? To say that remorse will deter him is absurd; for remorse, as distinguished from pity, is the sole offspring of religious
belief, the extinction of which is the great purpose of the infidel
philosophy.
The dread of punishment or infamy from his fellow-creatures will
be an equally ineffectual barrier; because crimes are only committed
under such circumstances as suggest the hope of concealment; not to
say that crimes themselves will soon lose their infamy and their horror under the influence of that system which destroys the sanctity of
virtue, by converting it into a low calculation of worldly interest.
Here the sense of an ever-present Ruler, and of an avenging Judge,
is of the most awful and indispensable necessity; as it is that alone
which impresses on all crimes the character of folly, shows that duty
and interest in every instance coincide, and that the most prosperous
career of vice, the most brilliant successes of criminality, are but an
accumulation of wrath against the day of wrath.
As the frequent perpetration of great crimes is an inevitable consequence of the diffusion of skeptical principles, so, to understand
this consequence in its full extent, we must look beyond their immediate effects, and consider the disruption of social ties, the destruction of confidence, the terror, suspicion, and hatred which must prevail in that state of society in which barbarous deeds are familiar.
The tranquillity which pervades a well-ordered community, and the
mutual good offices which bind its members together, are founded
on an implied confidence in the indisposition to annoy; in the justice, humanity, and moderation of those among whom we dwell. So
that the worst consequence of crimes is, that they impair the stock
of public charity and general tenderness. The dread and hatred of
our species would infallibly be grafted on a conviction that we were
exposed every moment to the surges of an unbridled ferocity, and
that nothing but the power of the magistrate stood between us and
the daggers of assassins. In such a state, laws, deriving no support
from public manners, are unequal to the task of curbing the fury of
24




370                   ROBERT HALL.
the passions; which, from being concentrated into selfishness, fear,
and revenge, acquire new force. Terror and suspicion beget cruelty,
and inflict injuries by way of prevention. Pity is extinguished in
the stronger impulse of self-preservation. The tender and generous
affections are crushed; and nothing is seen but the retaliation of
wrongs, the fierce and unmitigated struggle for superiority. This is
but a faint sketch of the incalculable calamities and horrors we must
expect, should we be so unfortunate as ever to witness the triumph
of modern infidelity.
2. This system is a soil as barren of great and sublime virtues as
it is prolific in crimes. By great and sublime virtues are meant those
which are called into action on great and trying occasions, which demand the sacrifice of the dearest interests and prospects of human
life, and sometimes of life itself: the virtues, in a word, which, by
their rarity and splendor, draw admiration, and have rendered illus.
trious the character of patriots, martyrs, and confessors. It requires
but little reflection to perceive that whatever vails a future world,
and contracts the limits of existence within the present life, must
tend, in a proportionable degree, to diminish the grandeur and nari Now the sphere of human agency.
As well might you expect exalted sentiments of justice from a
professed gamester as look for noble principles in the man whose
hopes and fears are all suspended on the present moment, and who
stakes the whole happiness of his being on the events of this vain
and fleeting life. If he be ever impelled to the performance of great
achievements in a good cause, it must be solely by the hope of
fame; a motive which, besides that it makes virtue the servant of
opinion, usually grows weaker at the approach of death; and which,
however, it may surmount the love of existence in the heat of bat.
tle, or in the moment of public observation, can seldom be expected
to operate with much force on the retired duties of a private station.
In affirming that infidelity is unfavorable to the higher class of
virtues, we are supported as well by facts as by reasoning. We
should be sorry to load our adversaries with unmerited reproach:
but to what history, to what record will they appeal for the traits of
moral greatness exhibited by their disciples? Where shall we look
for the trophies of infidel magnanimity or atheistical virtue? Not
that we mean to accuse them of inactivity: they have recently filled
the world with the fame of their exploits; of a different kind indeed,
but of imperishable memory, and disastrous luster.
Though it is confessed great and splendid actions are not the or




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED                  871
dinary employment of life, but must, from their nature, be reserved
for high and eminent occasions; yet that system is essentially defective which leaves no room for their production. They are important, both from their immediate advantage and their remoter
influence. They often save, and always illustrate, the age and nation in which they appear. They raise the standard of morals;
hey arrest the progress of degeneracy; they diffuse a luster over
the path of life: monuments of the greatness of the human soul,
they present to the world the august image of virtue in her sublimest form, from which streams of light and glory issue to remote
times and ages; while their commemoration by the pen of historians and poets awakens in distant bosoms the sparks of kindred
excellence.
Combine the frequent and familiar perpetrations of atrocious
deeds with the dearth of great and generous actions, and you have
the exact picture of that condition of society which completes the
degradation of the species-the frightful contrast of dwarfish virtues
and gigantic vices, where every thing good is mean and little, and
every thing evil is rank and luxuriant: a dead and sickening uniformity prevails, broken only at intervals by volcanic eruptions of
anarchy and crime.
II. Hitherto we have considered the influence of skepticism on
the principles of virtue; and have endeavored to show that it despoils it of its dignity, and lays its authority in the dust. Its influence on the formation of character remains to be examined. The
actions of men are oftener determined by their character than their
interest: their conduct takes its color more from their acquired
taste, inclinations, and habits, than from a deliberate regard to their
greatest good. It is only on great occasions the mind awakes to take
an extended survey of her whole course, and that she suffers the
dictates of reason to impress a new bias upon her movements. The
actions of each day are, for the most part, links which follow each
other in the chain of custom. Hence the great effort of practical
wisdom is to imbue the mind with right tastes, affections, and habits; the elements of character, and masters of action.
1. The exclusion of a Supreme Being and of a superintending
Providence tends directly to the destruction of moral taste. It robs
the universe of all finished and consummate excellence even in idea.
The admiration of perfect wisdom and goodness for which we are
formed, and which kindles such unspeakable rapture in the soul,
finding in the regions of skepticism nothing to which it corresponds,
droops and languishes. In a world which presents a fair spectacle




872                  ROBERT HA. w.
of order and beauty, of a vast family nourished and supported by
an Almighty Parent-in a world which leads the devout mind, step
by step, to the contemplation of the first fair and the first good, the
skeptic is encompassed with nothing but obscurity, meanness, and
disorder.
When we reflect on the manner in which the idea of Deity is
formed, we must be convinced that such an idea, intimately present
to the mind, must have a most powerful effect in refining the moral
taste. Composed of the richest elements, it embraces, in the character of a beneficent Parent and Almighty Ruler, whatever is ven.
erable in wisdom, whatever is awful in authority, whatever is touching in goodness.
Human excellence is blended with many imperfections, and seen
under many limitations. It is beheld only in detached and separate
portions, nor ever appears in any one character whole and entire.
So that when, in imitation of the Stoics, we wish to form out of these
fragments the notion of a perfectly wise and good man, we know it
is a mere fiction of the mind, without any real being in whom it is
embodied and realized. In the belief of a Deity, these conceptions
are reduced to reality: the scattered rays of an ideal excellence are
concentrated, and become the real attributes of that Being with
whom we stand in the nearest relation, who sits supreme at the head
of the universe, is armed with infinite power, and pervades all nature with His presence.
The efficacy of these views in producing and augmenting a vir.
tuous taste will indeed be proportioned to the vividness with which
they are formed, and the frequency with which they recur; yet
some benefit will not fail to result from them even in their lowest
degree.
The idea of the Supreme Being has this peculiar property: that,
as it admits of no substitute, so, from the first moment it is formed,
it is capable of continual growth and enlargement. God Himself is
immutable; but our conception of His character is continually receiving fresh accessions, is continually growing more extended and
refulgent, by having transferred to it new elements of beauty and
goodness; by attracting to itself, as a center, whatever bears the impress of dignity, order, or happiness. It borrows splendor from all
that is fair, subordinates to itself all that is great, and sits enthroned
on the riches of the universe.
As the object of worship will always be, in a degree, the object
of imitation, hence arises a fixed standard of moral excellence; by
the contemplation of which the tendencies to corruption are couno




MODERN INFIDELITr CONSIDERED.                  878
teracted, the contagion of bad example is checked, and human
nature rises above its natural level.
When the knowledge of God was lost in the world, just ideas of
virtue and moral obligation disappeared along with it. How is it to
be otherwise accounted for, that in the polished nations, and in the
enlightened times of pagan antiquity, the most unnatural lusts and
detestable impurities were not only tolerated, in private life, but
entered into religion, and formed a material part of public worship;
while among the Jews, a people so much inferior in every other
branch of knowledge, the same vices were regarded with horror?
The reason is this: the true character of God was unknown to
the former, which by the light of Divine revelation was displayed
to the latter. The former cast their deities in the mold of their
own imaginations; in consequence of which they partook of the
vices and defects of their worshipers. To the latter, no scope was
left for the wanderings of fancy; but a pure and perfect model was
prescribed.
False and corrupt, however, as was the religion of the pagans (if
it deserves the name), and defective, and often vicious, as was the
character of their imaginary deities, it was still better for the world
that the void should be filled with these than abandoned to a total
skepticism; for if both systems are equally false, they are not equally
pernicious. When the fictions of heathenism consecrated the memory
of its legislators and heroes, it invested them for the most part with
those qualities which were in the greatest repute. They were supposed to possess in the highest degree the virtues in which it was
most honorable to excel; and to be the witnesses, approvers, and
patrons of those perfections in others by which their own character
was chiefly distinguished. Men saw, or rather fancied they saw, in!
these supposed deities the qualities they most admired, dilated to a.
larger size, moving in a higher sphere, and associated with the power,.
dignity, and happiness of superior natures. With such ideal models.
before them, and conceiving themselves continually acting under the
eye of such spectators and judges, they felt a real elevation; their
eloquence became more impassioned, their patriptism inflamed, and;
their courage exalted.
Revelation, by displaying the true character of God, affords a
pure and perfect standard of virtue; heathenism, one in many respects defective and vicious; the fashionable skepticism of the present
day, which excludes the belief of all superior powers, affords no
standard at all. Human nature knows nothing better or higher than
itself. A11 above and around it being shrouded in darkness, and the




374                    ROBERT HALL.
prospect confined to the tame realities of life, virtue has no room
upward to expand; nor are any excursions permitted into that unseen world, the true element of the great and good, by which it is
fortified with motives equally calculated to satisfy the reason, to delight the fancy, and to impress the heart.
2. Modern infidelity not only tends to corrupt the moral taste, it
also promotes the growth of those vices which are the most hostile
to social happiness. Of all the vices incident to human nature, the
most destructive to society are vanity, ferocity, and unbridled sensuality; and these are precisely the vices which infidelity is calculated
to cherish.
That the love, fear, and habitual contemplation of a Being infinitely exalted, or, in other words, devotion, is adapted to promote
a sober and moderate estimate of our own excellences, is incontestable; nor is it less evident that the exclusion of such sentiments must
be favorable to pride. The criminality of pride will, perhaps, be
less readily admitted; for though there is no vice so opposite to the
spirit of Christianity, yet there is none which, even in the Christian
world, has, under various pretenses, been treated with so much indulgence.
There is, it will be confessed, a delicate sensibility to character,
a sober desire of reputation, a wish to possess the esteem of the wise
and good, felt by the purest minds, which is at the furthest remove
from arrogance or vanity. The humility of a noble mind scarcely
dares to approve of itself until it has secured the approbation of
others. Very different is that restless desire of distinction, that passion for theatrical display, which inflames the heart and occupies the
whole attention of vain men. This, of all the passions, is the most
unsocial, avarice itself not excepted. The reason is plain. Property
is a kind of good which may be more easily attained, and is capable,
of more minute subdivisions than fame. In the pursuit of wealth,
men are led by an attention to their own interests to promote the
welfare of each other; their advantages are reciprocal; the benefits
which each is anxious to acquire for himself he reaps in the greatest
abundance from the union and conjunction of society. The pursuits
of vanity are quite contrary. The portion of time and attention
mankind are willing to spare from their avocations and pleasures to
devote to the admiration of each other is so small, that every successful adventurer is felt to have impaired the common stock. The
success of one is the disappointment of multitudes. For though
there be many rich, many virtuous, many wise men, fame must necessarily be the portion of but few. Hence every vain man, every man




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDIRED                   375
in whom vanity is the ruling passion, regarding his ri'al as his
enemy, is strongly tempted to rejoice in his miscarriage, and repine
at his success.
Besides, as the passions are seldom seen in a simple, unmixed
state, so vanity, when it succeeds, degenerates into arrogance; when
it is disappointed (and it is often disappointed) it is exasperated into
malignity, and corrupted into envy. In this stage the vain man
commences a determined misanthropist. He detests that excellence
which he can not reach. He detests his species, and longs to be
revenged for the unpardonable injustice he has sustained in their insensibility to his merits. He lives upon the calamities of the world;
the vices and miseries of men are his element and his food. Virtues,
talents, and genius are his natural enemies, which he persecutes with
instinctive eagerness and unrelenting hostility. There are who doubt
the existence of such a disposition; but it certainly issues out of the
dregs of disappointed vanity; a disease which taints and vitiates the
whole character wherever it prevails. It forms the heart to such a
profound indifference to the welfare of others that, whatever appearances he may assume, or however wide the circle of his seeming
virtues may extend, you will infallibly find the vain man is his own
center. Attentive only to himself, absorbed in the contemplation of
his own perfections, instead of feeling tenderness for his fellow-creatures as members of the same family, as beings with whom he is
appointed to act, to suffer, and to sympathize-he considers life as a
stage on which he is performing a part, and mankind in no other
light than spectators. Whether he smiles or frowns, whether his
path is adorned with the rays of beneficence, or his steps are dyed in
blood, an attention to self is the spring of every movement, and the
motive to which every action is referred.
His apparent good qualities lose all their worth, by losing all that
is simple, genuine, and natural: they are even pressed into the service of vanity, and become the means of enlarging its power. The
truly good man is jealous over himself, lest the notoriety of his best
actions, by blending itself with their motive, should diminish their
value; the vain man performs the same actions for the sake of that
notoriety. The good man quietly discharges his duty, and shuns
ostentation; the vain man considers every good deed lost that is not
publicly displayed. The one is intent upon realities, the other upon
semblances: the one aims to be virtuous, the other to appear so.
Nor is a mind inflated with vanity more disqualified fo)r right
action than just speculation, or better disposed to the pursuit of truth
than the practice of virtue. To such a mind the simplicity of truth




876                   ROBERT HALL.
is disgusting. Careless of the improvement of mankind, and intent
only upon astonishing with the appearance of novelty, the glare of
paradox will be preferred to the light of truth; opinions will be em.
braced, not because they are just, but because they are new: the
more flagitious, the more subversive of morals, the more alarming to
the wise and good, the more welcome to men who estimate their literary powers by the mischief they produce, and who consider the
anxiety and terror they impress as the measure of their renown.
Truth is simple and uniform, while error may be infinitely varied:
and as it is one thing to start paradoxes, and another to make discoveries, we need the less wonder at the prodigious increase of modern philosophers.
We have been so much accustomed to consider extravagu.ut selfestimation merely as a ridiculous quality, that many will be surprised
to find it treated as a vice pregnant with serious mischief to society.
But, to form a judgment of its influence on the manners and happiness of a nation, it is necessary only to look at its effects in a family;
for bodies of men are only collections of individuals, and the greatest
nation is nothing more than an aggregate of a number of families
Conceive of a domestic circle in which each member is elated with a
most extravagant opinion of himself, and a proportionable contempt
of every other-is full of contrivances to catch applause, and whenever he is not praised is sullen and disappointed. What a picture of
disunion, disgust, and animosity would such a family present! How
utterly would domestic affection be extinguished, and all the purposes of domestic society be defeated I The general prevalence of
such dispositions must be accompanied by an equal proportion of
general misery. The tendency of pride to produce strife and hatred
is sufficiently apparent from the pains men have been at to construct
a system of politeness, which is nothing more than a soit of mimic
humility, in which the sentiments of an offensive self-estimation are
so far disguised and suppressed as to make them compatible with the
spirit of society; such a mode of behavior as would naturally result
from an attention to the apostolic injunction "' Let nothing be done
through strife or vain-glory; but, in lowliness of mind, let each
esteem other better than themselves." But if the semblance be of
such importance, how much more useful the reality I If the mere
garb of humanity be of such indispensable necessity that without it
society could not subsist, how much better still would the harmony
of the world be preserved, were the condescension, deference, and
respect so studiously displayed a true picture of the heart.
The same restless and eager vanity which disturbs a family, when




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                 877
it is permitted in a great national crisis to mingle with political affairs,
distracts a kingdom, infusing into those intrusted with the enaction
of laws a spirit of rash innovation and daring empiricism, a disdain
of the established usages of mankind, a foolish desire to dazzle the
world with new and untried systems of policy, in which the precedents of antiquity and the experience of ages are only consulted to
De trodden under foot; and into the executive department of government a fierce contention for pre-eminence, an incessant struggle
to supplant and destroy, with a propensity to calumny and suspicion,
proscription and massacre.
We shall suffer the most eventful season ever witnessed in the
affairs of men to pass over our heads to very little purpose, if we fail
to learn from it some awful lessons on the nature and progress of the
passions. The true light in which the French Revolution ought to
be contemplated is that of a grand experiment on human nature.
Among the various passions which that Revolution has so strikingly
displayed, none is more conspicuous than vanity; nor is it less difficult, without adverting to the national character of the people, to
account for its extraordinary predominance. Political power, the
most seducing object of ambition, never before circulated through so
many hands; the prospect of possessing it was never before presented
to so many minds. Multitudes who, by their birth and education,
and not unfrequently by their talents, seemed destined to perpetual
obscurity, were, by the alternate rise and fall of parties, elevated into
distinction, and shared in the functions of government. The shortlived forms of power and office glided with such rapidity through
successive ranks of degradation, from the court to the very dregs of
the populace, that they seemed rather to solicit acceptance than to
be a prize contended for. Yet, as it was still impossible for all to
possess authority, though none were willing to obey, a general impatience to break the ranks and rush into the foremost ground, maddened and infuriated the nation, and overwhelmed law, order, and
civilization, with the violence of a torrent.
If such be the mischiefs both in public and private life resulting
from an excessive self-estimation, it remains next to be considered
whether Providence has supplied any medicine to correct it; for as
khe reflection on excellences, whether real or imaginary, is always
a tended with pleasure to the possessor, it is a disease deeply seated
in our nature.
Suppose there were a great and glorious Being always present
with us, who had given us existence, with numberless other blessings,
and on whom we depended each instant, as well for every present




878                   ROBERT HALL.
enjoyment as for every future good; suppose, again, we had incurred
the just displeasure of such a being by ingratitude and disobedience,
yet that in great mercy He had not cast us off, but had assured us
He was willing to pardon and restore us on our humble entreaty and
sincere repentance; say, would not an habitual sense of the presence
of this Being, self-reproach for having displeased Him, and an anxiety to recover His favor, be the most effectual antidote to pride?
But such are the leading discoveries made by the Christian revelation, and such the dispositions which a practical belief of it inspires.
Humility is the first fruit of religion. In the mouth of our Lord
there is no maxim so frequent as the following: "Whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself shall be
exalted." Religion, and that alone, teaches absolute humility; by
which I mean a sense of our absolute nothingness in the view of infinite greatness and excellence. That sense of inferiority which results
from the comparison of men with each other is often an unwelcome
sentiment forced upon the mind, which may rather embitter the temper than soften it: that which devotion impresses is soothing and
delightful. The devout man loves to lie low at the foot of his Creator, because it is then he attains the most lively perceptions of the
divine excellence, and the most tranquil confidence in the divine
favor. In so august a presence he sees all distinctions lost, and all
beings reduced to the same level. He looks at his superiors without
envy, and his inferiors without contempt; and when from this elevation he descends to mix in society, the conviction of superiority,
which must in many instances be felt, is a calm inference of the
understanding, and no longer a busy, importunate passion of the
heart.
" The wicked (says the Psalmist) through the pride of their countenance, will not seek after God: God is not in all their thoughts."
When we consider the incredible vanity of the atheistical sect, together with the settled malignity and unrelenting rancor with which
they pursue every vestige of religion, is it uncandid to suppose that
its humbling tendency is one principal cause of their enmity; that
they are eager to displace a Deity from the minds of men, that they
may occupy the void; to crumble the throne of the Eternal into
dust, that they may elevate themselves on its ruins; and that, as
their licentiousness is impatient of restraint, so their pride disdains a
superior?
We mentioned a ferocity of character as one effect of skeptical
impiety. It is an inconvenience attending a controversy with those
with whom we have few principles in common, that we are often




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                379
in danger of reasoning inconclusively, for the want of its being clearly
known and settled what our opponents admit, and what they deny.
The persons, for example, with whom we are at present engaged
have discarded humility and modesty from the catalogue of virtues;
on which account we have employed the more time in evincing their
importance: but whatever may be thought of humility as a virtue,
it surely will not be denied that inhumanity is a most detestable vice
a vice, however, which skepticism has a most powerful tendency to
inflame.
As we have already shown that pride hardens the heart, and that
religion is the only effectual antidote, the connection between irreligion and inhumanity is in this view obvious. But there is another
light in which this part of the subject may be viewed, in my humble
opinion, much more important, though seldom adverted to. The
supposition that man is a moral and accountable being, destined to
survive the stroke of death, and to live in a future world in a neverending state of happiness or misery, makes him a creature of incomparably more consequence than the opposite supposition. When we
consider him as placed here by an Almighty Ruler in a state of probation, and that the present life is his period of trial, the first link in
a vast and interminable chain which stretches into eternity, he as.
sumes a dignified character in our eyes. Every thing which relates
to him becomes interesting; and to trifle with his happiness is felt to
be the most unpardonable levity. If such be the destination of man,
it is evident that in the qualities which fit him for it his principal
dignity consists; his moral greatness is his true greatness. Let the
skeptical principles be admitted, which represent him, on the contrary, as the offspring of chance, connected with no superior power,
and sinking into annihilation at death, and he is a contemptible creature, whose existence and happiness are insignificant. The characteristic difference is lost between him and the brute creation, from
which he is no longer distinguished, except by the vividness and
multiplicity of his perceptions.
If we reflect on that part of our nature which disposes us to
humanity, we shall find that where we have no particular attachment
our sympathy with the sufferings, and concern for the destruction of
sensitive beings, are in proportion to their supposed importance in the
general scale; or, in other words, to their supposed capacity of enioyment. We feel, for example, much more at witnessing the deatruction of a man than of an inferior animal, because we consider
it as involving the extinction of a much greater sum of happiness.
For the same reason he who would shudder at the slaughter of a




380                   ROBERT HALL.
large animal will see a thousand insects perish without a pang. Oun
sympathy with the calamities of our fellow-creatures is adjusted to
the same proportions; for we feel more powerfully affected with the
distresses of fallen greatness than with equal or greater distresses
sustained by persons of inferior rank; because, having been accustomed to associate with an elevated station the idea of superior hap.
piness, the loss appears the greater, and the wreck more extensive.
But the disproportion in importance between man and the meanest
insect is not so great as that which subsists between man considered
as mortal and as immortal; that is, between man as he is represented
by the system of skepticism  and that of divine revelation; for the
enjoyment of the meanest Insect bears some proportion, though a
very small one, to the present happiness of man; but the happiness
of time bears none at all to that of eternity. The skeptical system,
therefore, sinks the importance of human existence to an inconceivable degree.
From these principles results the following important inferencethat to extinguish human life by the hand of violence must be quite
a different thing in the eyes of a skeptic from what it is in those of
a Christian. With the skeptic it is nothing more than diverting the
course of a little red fluid, called blood; it is merely lessening the
number by one of many millions of fugitive contemptible creatures.
The Christian sees in the same event an accountable being cut off
from a state of probation, and hurried, perhaps unprepared, into
the presence of his Judge, to hear that final, that irrevocable sentence, which is to fix him forever in an unalterable condition of
felicity or woe. The former perceives in death nothing but its
physical circumstances; the latter is impressed with the magnitude of its moral consequences. It is the moral relation which man
is supposed to bear to a superior power, the awful idea of accountability, the influence which his present dispositions and actions are
conceived to have upon his eternal destiny, more than any superiority of intellectual powers abstracted from these considerations, which
invest him with such mysterious grandeur, and constitute the firmest guard on the sanctuary of human life. This reasoning, it is
true, serves more immediately to show how the disbelief of a future
state endangers the security of life; but though this be its direct
consequence, it extends by analogy much further, since he who
has learned to sport with the lives of his fellow-creatures will feel
but little solicitude for their welfare in any other instance; but, as
the greater includes the less, will easily pass from this to all the inferior gradations of barbarity.




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                881
As the advantage of the armed over the unarmed is not seen till
the moment of attack, so in that tranquil state of society in which
law and order maintain their ascendency, it is not perceived, perhaps not even suspected, to what an alarming degree the principles
of modern infidelity leave us naked and defenseless. But let the
state be convulsed, let the mounds of regular authority be once overflowed, and the still small voice of law drowned in the tempest of
popular fury (events which recent experience shows to be possible);
it will then be seen that atheism is a school of ferocity; and that,
having taught its disciples to consider mankind as little better than
a nest of insects, they will be prepared in the fierce conflicts of party
to trample upon them without pity, and extinguish them without
remorse.
It was late before the atheism of Epicurus gained footing at
Rome; but its prevalence was soon followed by such scenes of proscription, confiscation, and blood, as were then unparalleled in the
history of the world; from which the republic being never able to
recover itself, after many unsuccessful struggles, exchanged liberty
for repose, by submission to absolute power. Such were the effects
of atheism at Rome. An attempt has been recently made to establish a similar system in France, the consequences of which are too
well known to render it requisite for me to shock your feelings by a
recital. The only doubt that can arise is, whether the barbarities
which have stained the Revolution in that unhappy country are
justly chargeable on the prevalence of atheism. Let those who
doubt of this recollect that the men who, by their activity and talents, prepared the minds of the people for that great change-Voltaire, D'Alembert, Diderot, Rousseau, and others-were avowed enemies of revelation; that in all their writings the diffusion of skep
ticism and revolutionary principles went hand in hand; that th
furyvof the most sanguinary parties was especially pointed against
the Christian priesthood and religious institutions, without once pretending, like other persecutors, to execute the vengeance of God
(whose name they never mentioned) upon his enemies; that their
atrocities were committed with a wanton levity and brutal merriment; that the reign of atheism was avowedly and expressly the
reign of terror; that in the full madness of their career, in the highest climax of their horrors, they shut up the temples of God, abolished His worship, and proclaimed death to be an eternal sleep;
as if by pointing to the silence of the sepulcher, and the sleep of the
dead, these ferocious barbarians meant to apologize for leaving
neither sleep, quiet, nor repose to the living.




382                    ROBERT HALL.
As the heathens fabled that Minerva issued full armed from the
head of Jupiter, so no sooner were the speculations of atheistical
philosophy matured, than they gave birth to a ferocity which con.
verted the most polished people in Europe into a horde of assassins;
the seat of voluptuous refinement, of pleasure, and of arts, into a
theater of blood.
Having already shown that the principles of infidelity facilitate
the commission of crimes, by removing the restraints of fear; and
that they foster the arrogance of the individual, while they inculcate the most despicable opinion of the species; the inevitable result
is, that a haughty self-confidence, a contempt of mankind, together
with a daring defiance of religious restraints, are the natural ingredients of the atheistical character; nor is it less evident that these
are, of all others, the dispositions which most forcibly stimulate to
violence and cruelty.
Settle it therefore in your minds, as a maxim never to be effaced
or forgotten, that atheism is an inhuman, bloody, ferocious system,
equally hostile to every useful restraint and to every virtuous affection; that, leaving nothing above us to excite awe, nor round us to
awaken tenderness, it wages war with heaven and with earth: its
first object is to dethrone God, its next to destroy man.
There is a third vice, not less destructive to society than either of
those which have been already mentioned, to which the system of
modern infidelity is favorable; that is, unbridled sensuality, the
licentious and unrestrained indulgence of those passions, which are
essential to the continuation of the species. The magnitude of these
passions, and their supreme importance to the existence as well as
the peace and welfare of society, have rendered it: one of the first
objects of solicitude with every wise legislator to restrain them by
such laws, and to confine their indulgence witbin such limits, as shall
best promote the great ends for which they were implanted.
The benevolence and wisdom of the Author of Christianity are
eminently conspicuous in the laws HIe has enacted on this branch of
morals; for, while He authorizes marriage, He restrains the vagrancy
and caprice of the passions, by forbidding polygamy and divorce;
and, well knowing that offenses against the laws of chastity usually
spring from an ill-regulated imagination, He inculcates purity of
heart. Among innumerable benefits which the world has derived
from the Christian religion, a superior refinement in the sexual sentiments, a more equal and respectful treatment of women, greater
dignity and permanence conferred on the institution of marriage, are
tot the least considerable; in consequence of which the purest affec



MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                  383
tions and the most sacred duties are grafted on the stock of the
strongest instincts.
The aim of all the leading champions of infidelity is to rob mankind
of these benefits, and throw them back into a state of gross and
brutal sensuality. In this spirit, Mr. Hume represents the private
conduct of the reprobate Charles, whose debaucheries polluted the
age, as a just subject of panegyric. A disciple in the same school
has lately had the unblushing effrontery to stigmatize marriage as
the worst of all monopolies; and, in a narrative of his licentious
amours, to make a formal apology for departing from his principles,
by submitting to its restraints. The popular productions on the
Continent which issue from the atheistical school are incessantly
directed to the same purpose.
Under every possible aspect in which infidelity can be viewed, it
extends the dominion of sensuality: it repeals and abrogates every
law by which Divine revelation has, under such awful sanctions, restrained the indulgence of the passions. The disbelief of a supreme,
omniscient Being, which it inculcates, releases its disciples from an
attention to the heart, from every care but the preservation of outward decorum; and the exclusion of the devout affections and an
unseen world leaves the mind immersed in visible, sensible objects.
There are two sorts of pleasures-corporeal and mental. Though
we are indebted to the senses for all our perceptions originally, yet
those which are the furthest remove from their immediate impressions
confer the most elevation on the character, since in proportion as
they are multiplied and augmented, the slavish subjection to the
senses is subdued. Hence the true and only antidote to debasing
sensuality is the possession of a fund of that kind of enjoyment which
is independent on the corporeal appetites. Inferior in the perfection
of several of his senses to different parts of the brute creation, the
superiority of man over them all consists in his superior power of
multiplying by new combinations his mental perceptions, and thereby
of creating to himself resources of happiness separate from external
sensation. In the scale of enjoyment, at the first remove from sense
are the pleasures of reason and society; at the next are the pleasures
of devotion and religion. The former, though totally distinct from
those of sense, are yet less perfectly adapted to moderate their excesses than the last, as they are in a great measure conversant with
visible and sensible objects. The religious affections and sentiments
are, in fact, and were intended to be, the proper antagonist of sensuality —the great deliverer from the thraldom of the appetites, by
opening a spiritual world, and inspiring hopes and fears, and couso.




384                   ROBERT HALL.
lations and joys which bear no relation to the material and sensible
universe. The criminal indulgence of sensual passions admits but
of two modes of prevention: the establishment of such laws and
maxims in society as shall render lewd profligacy impracticable or
infamous, or the infusion of such principles and habits as shall render it distasteful. Human legislatures have encountered the disease
in the first, the truths and sanctions of revealed religion in the last
of these methods: to both of which the advocates of modern infidelity are equally hostile.
So much has been said by many able writers to evince the in'nonceivable benefit of the marriage institution, that to hear it seriously
attacked by men who style themselves philosophers, at the close of
the eighteenth century, must awaken indignation and surprise. The
object of this discourse leads us to direct our attention particularly
to the influence of this institution on the civilization of the world.
From the records of revelation we learn that marriage, or the
permanent union of the sexes, was ordained by God, and existed,
under different modifications, in the early infancy of mankind, without which they could never have emerged from barbarism. For,
conceive only what eternal discord, jealousy and violence would
ensue, were the objects of the tenderest affections secured to their
possessor by no law or tie of moral obligation: were domestic enjoyments disturbed by incessant fear, and licentiousness inflamed by
hope. Who could find sufficient tranquillity of mind to enable him
to plan or execute any continued scheme of action, or what room
for arts or sciences, or religion, or virtue, in that state in which the
chief earthly happiness was exposed to every lawless invader; where
one was racked with an incessant anxiety to keep what the other
was equally eager to acquire? It is not probable in itself, independent of the light of Scripture, that the benevolent Author of the
human race ever placed them in so wretched a condition at first: it
is certain they could not remain in it long without being exterminated. Marriage, by shutting out these evils, and enabling every
man to rest secure in his enjoyments, is the great civilizer of the
world: with this security the mind is at liberty to expand in generous affections, and has leisure to look abroad, and engage in the pursuits of knowledge, science, and virtue.
Nor is it in this way only that marriage institutions are essential
to the welfare of mankind. They are sources of tenderness, as well
as the guardians of peace. Without the permanent union of the
sexes there can be no permanent families: the dissolution of nuptial
ties involves the dissolution of domestic society. But domestic soci



MODERN  INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                  385
ety is the seminary of social affections, the cradle of sensibility
where the first elements are acquired of that tenderness and humanity which cement mankind together, and were they entirely extin.
guished, the whole fabric of social institutions would be dissolved.
Families are so many centers of attraction which preserve man.
kind from being scattered and dissipated by the repulsive powers of
selfishness. The order of nature is evermore from particulars to
generals. As in the operations of intellect we proceed from the contemplation of individuals to the formation of general abstractions, so
in the development of the passions, in like manner, we advance from
private to public affections; from the love of parents, brothers, and
sisters, to those more expanded regards which embrace the immense
society of human kind.
In order to render men benevolent, they must first be made tender: for benevolent affections are not the offspring of reasoning;
they result from that culture of the heart, from those early impressions of tenderness, gratitude, and sympathy which the endearments
of domestic life are sure to supply, and for the formation of which it
is the best possible school.
The advocates of infidelity invert this eternal order of nature.
Instead of inculcating the private affections, as a discipline by which
the mind is prepared for those of a more public nature, they set them
in direct opposition to each other, they propose to build general
benevolence on the destruction of individual tenderness, and to make
us love the whole species more by loving everv particular part of it
less. In parsuit of this chimerical project, gratitude, humility, conjugal, parental, and filial affection, together with every other social
disposition, are reprobated —virtue is limited to a passionate attachment to the general good. Is it not natural to ask, when all the
tenderness of life is extinguished, and all the bands of society are
untwisted, from whence this ardent affection for the general good is
to spring?
When this savage philosophy has completed its work, when it has
taught its disciple to look with perfect indifference on the offspring
of his body, and the wife of his bosom, to estrange himself from his
friends, insult his benefactors, and silence the pleadings of gratitude
and pity —will he, by thus divesting himself of all that is human, be
better prepared for the disinterested love of his species? Will he
become a philanthropist only because he has ceased to be a man?
Rather, in this total exemption from all the feelings which humanize
and soften, in this chilling frost of universal indifference, may we not
be certain that selfishness, unmingled and uncontrolled. will assume
25




886                   ROBERT HALL.
the empire of his heart; and that, under pretense of advancing the
general good, an object to which the fancy may give innumerable
shapes, he will be prepared for the violation of every duty, and the
perpetration of every crime? Extended benevolence is the last and
most perfect fruit of the private affections; so that to expect to reap
the former from the extinction of the latter, is to oppose the means
to the end; is as absurd as to attempt to reach the summit of the
highest mountain without passing through the intermediate spaces,
or to hope to obtain the heights of science by forgetting the first elements of knowledge. These absurdities have sprung, however, in
the advocates of infidelity, from an ignorance of human nature suffi
cient to disgrace even those who did not style themselves philosophers. Presuming, contrary to the experience of every moment,
that the affections are awakened by reasoning, and perceiving that
the general good is an incomparably greater object in itself than the
happiness of any limited number of individuals, they inferred nothing more was necessary than to exhibit it in its just dimensions, to
draw the affections toward it; as though the fact of the superior populousness of China to Great Britain needed but to be known to render
us indifferent to our domestic concerns, and lead us to direct all our
anxiety to the prosperity of that vast but remote empire.
It is not the province of reason to awaken new passions, or open
new sources of sensibility, but to direct us in the attainment of those
objects which nature has already rendered pleasing, or to determine
among the interfering inclinations and passions which sway the mind,
which are the fittest to be preferred.
Is a regard to the general good then, you will reply, to be excluded
from the motives of action? Nothing is more remote from my intention: but as the nature of this motive has, in my opinion, been much
misunderstood by some good men, and abused by others of a different description, to the worst of purposes, permit me to declare, in a
few words what appears to me to be the truth on this subject.
The welfare of the whole system of being must be allowed to be,
in itself, the object of all others the most worthy of being pursued;
so that, could the mind distinctly embrace it, and discern at every
step what action would infallibly promote it, we should be furnished
with a sure criterion of right and wrong, an unerring guide, which
would supersede the use and necessity of all inferior rules, laws, and
principles.
But this being impossible, since the good of the whole is a motive
so loose and indeterminate, and embraces such an infinity of rela.
tions, that before we could be certain what action it prescribed, tho




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                  387
season of action would be past; to weak, short-sighted mortals
Providence has assigned a sphere of agency less grand and extensive indeed, bat better suited to their limited powers, by implanting
certain affections which it is their duty to cultivate, and suggesting
particular rules to which they are bound to conform. By these provisions the boundaries of virtue are easily ascertained, at the same
time that its ultimate object, the good of the whole, is secured: for,
since the happiness of the entire system results from the happiness
of the several parts; the affections, which confine the attention immediately to the latter, conspire in the end to the promotion of the
former; as the laborer, whose industry is limited to a corner of a
large building, performs his part toward rearing the structure much
more effectually than if he extended his care to the whole.
As the interest, however, of any limited number of persons may
not only not contribute, but may possibly be directly opposed to the
general good (the interest of a family, for example, to that of a province, or of a nation to that of the world), Providence has so ordered
it, that in a well-regulated mind there springs up, as we have already
seen, besides particular attachments, an extended regard to the species,
whose office is twofold: not to destroy and extinguish the more private affections, which is mental parricide; but first, as far as is con-.
sistent with the claims of those who are immediately committed to
our care, to do good to all men; secondly, to exercise a jurisdiction
and control over the private affections, so as to prohibit their indulgence whenever it would be attended with manifest detriment to the
whole. Thus every part of our nature is brought into action; all
the practical principles of the human heart find an element to move
in, each in its different sort and manner conspiring, without mutual
collisions, to maintain the harmony of the world and the happiness
of the universe.
Before I close this discourse, I can not omit to mention three
circumstances attending the propagation of infidelity by its present
abettors, equally new and alarming.
1. It is the first attempt which has been ever witnessed, on an
extensive scale, to establish the principles of atheism; the first effort
which history has recorded to disannul and extinguish the belief of
all superior powers; the consequence of which, should it succeed,
would be to place mankind in a situation never before experienced,
not even during the ages of pagan darkness. The system of polytheism w as as remote from modern infidelity as from true religion.
Amid that rubbish of superstition, the product of fear, ignorance,
and vice, which had been accumulating for ages, sDoe faint embers




888                    ROBERT HALL.
of sacred truth remained unextinguished; the interposition of unseen
powers in the affairs of men was believed and revered, the sanctity
of oaths was maintained-the idea of revelation and of tradition as a
source of religious knowledge was familiar; a useful persuasion of
the existence of a future world was kept alive, and the greater gods
were looked up to as the guardians of the public welfare, the patrons
of those virtues which promote the prosperity of states, and the
avengers of injustice, perfidy, and fraud.
Of whatever benefit superstition might formerly be productive,
by the scattered particles of truth which it contained, these advantages can now only be reaped from the soil of true religion; nor is
there any other alternative left than the belief of Christianity, or
absolute atheism. In the revolutions of the human mind, exploded
opinions are often revived; but an exploded superstition never recovers its credit. The pretension to divine revelation is so august
and commanding, that when its falsehood is once discerned, it is
covered with all the ignominy of detected imposture; it falls from
such a height (to change the figure) that it is inevitably crumbled
into atoms. Religions, whether false or true, are not creatures of
arbitrary institution.  After discrediting the principles of piety,
should our modern freethinkers find it necessary, in order to restrain
the excesses of ferocity, to seek for a substitute in some popular
superstition, it will prove a vain and impracticable attempt: they
may recall the names, restore the altars, and revive the ceremonies; but to rekindle the spirit of heathenism will exceed their
power; because it is impossible to enact ignorance by law, or to
repeal by legislative authority the dictates of reason and the light of
science.
2. The efforts of infidels to diffuse the principles of infidelity
among the common people is another alarming symptom peculiar to
the present time. Hume, Bolingbroke, and Gibbon, addressed them.
selves solely to the more polished classes of the community, and
would have thought their refined speculations debased by an attempt
to enlist disciples from among the populace. Inddelityv has lately
grown condescending; bred in the speculations of a daring philosophy, immured at first in the cloisters of the learned, and afterward
nursed in the lap of voluptuousness and of courts; having at length
reached its full maturity, it boldly ventures to challenge the suf.
frages of the people, solicits the acquaintance of peasants and mechanics, and seeks to draw whole nations to its standard.
It is not difficult to account for this new state of things. While
infidelity was rare, it was employed as the instrument of literary




MODERN INFIDELITY CONSIDERED.                  889
vanity; its wide diffusion having disqualified it for answering that
purpose, it is now adopted as the organ of political convulsion.
Literary distinction is conferred by the approbation of a few; but
the total subversion and overthrow of society demands the concur
rence of millions.
3. The infidels of the present day are the first sophists who have
presumed to innovate in the very substance of morals. The disputes
on moral questions hitherto agitated among philosophers have respected the grounds of duty, not the nature of duty itself; or they
have been merely metaphysical, and related to the history of moral
sentiments in the mind, the sources and principles from which they
were most easily deduced; they never turned on the quality of
those dispositions and actions which were to be denominated virtuous. In the firm persuasion that the love and fear of the Supreme
Being, the sacred observation of promises and oaths, reverence to
magistrates, obedience to parents, gratitude to benefactors, conjugal
fidelity, and parental tenderness were primary virtues, and the chief
support of every commonwealth, they were unanimous. The curse
denounced upon such as remove ancient landmarks, upon those who
call good evil, and evil good, put light for darkness, and darkness
for light, who employ their faculties to subvert the eternal distinctions of right and wrong, and thus to poison the streams of virtue
at their source, falls with accumulated weight on the advocates of
modern infidelity, and on them alone.
Permit me to close this discourse with a few serious reflections.
There is much, it must be confessed, in the apostacy of multitudes,
and the rapid progress of infidelity, to awaken our fears for the virtue of the rising generation; but nothing to shake our faith-nothing which Scripture itself does not give us room to expect. The
features which compose the character of apostates, their profaneness,
presumption, lewdness, impatience of subordination, restless appetite for change, vain pretensions to freedom and to emancipate the
world, while themselves are the slaves of lust, the weapons with
which they attack Christianity, and the snares they spread for the
unwary are depicted in the clearest colors by the pencil of prophecy:
"Knowing this first (says Peter), that there shall come in the last
days scoffers walking after their own lusts." In the same epistle he
more fully describes the persons he alludes to; "as chiefly them
which walk after the flesh, in the lust of uncleanness, and despise
government; presumptuous are they, self-willed, they are not afraid
to speak evil of dignities; sporting themselves in their own deceivings, having eyes full of adultery, and that can not cease from sin




390                   tOBER1L  HLAA,L
beguiling unstable souls: for when thiey spetak great swelling words
of vanity, they allure through -the lusts of the flesh, through much
wantonness, those that were clean escaped from them who live in
error; while they promise them liberty, they themselves are the
servants of corruption." Of the same characters Jude admonishes
us "to remember that they were foretold as mockers who should be
in the last time, who should walk after their own ungodly lusts.
These be they (he adds) who separate themselves (by apostacy), sensual, not having the Spirit." Infidelity is an evil of short duration.
"It has (as a judicious writer observes) no individual subsistence
given it in the system of prophecy. It is not a beast-but a mere
putrid excrescence of the papal beast: an excrescence which, though
it may diffuse death through every vein of the body on which it
grew, yet shall die along with it." Its enormities will hasten its
overthrow. It is impossible that a system which, by vilifying every
virtue, and embracing the patronage of almost every vice and crime,
wages war with all the order and civilization of the world; which,
equal to the establishment of nothing, is armed only with the energies of destruction, can long- retain an ascendency. It is in no
shape formed for perpetuity. Sudden in its rise and impetuous in
its progress; it resembles a mountain-torrent, which is loud, filthy,
and desolating; but, being fed by no perennial spring, is soon
drained off and disappears. By permitting to a certain extent the
prevalence of infidelity, Providence is preparing new triumphs for
religion. In asserting its authority, the preachers of the Gospel
have hitherto found it necessary to weigh the prospects of immortality against the interests of time; to strip the world of its charms,
to insist on the deceitfulness of pleasure, the unsatisfying nature of
riches, the emptiness of grandeur, and the nothingness of a mere
worldly life. Topics of this nature will always have their use; but
it is not by such representations alone that the importance of religion is evinced. The prevalence of impiety has armed us with new
weapons in its defense.
Religion being primarily intended to make men wise unto salvation, the support it ministers to social order, the stability it con
fers on government and laws, is a subordinate species of advantage
which we should have continued to enjoy, without reflecting on its
cause, but for the development of deistical principles, and the experiment which has been made of their effects in a neighboring
country. It had been the constant boast of infidels, that their system, more liberal and generous than Christianity, needed but to be
tried to produce an immense accession to human happiness; and




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                 391
Christian nations, careless and supine, retaining little of religion but
the profession, and disgusted with its restraints, lent a favorable ear
to these pretensions. God permitted the trial to be made. In one
country, and that the center of Christendom, revelation underwent
a total eclipse, while atheism, performing on a darkened theater its
strange and fearful tragedy, confounded the first elements of society,
blended every age, rank, and sex in indiscriminate proscription and
massacre, and convulsed all Europe to its center; that the imper
ishable memorial of these events might teach the last generations
of mankind to consider religion as the pillar of society, the safeguard of nations, the parent of social order, which alone has power
to curb the fury of the passions, and secure to every one his rights;
to the laborious the reward of their industry, to the rich the enjoyment of their wealth, to nobles the preservation of their honors, and
to princes the stability of their thrones.
We might ask the patrons of infidelity what fury impels them to
attempt the subversion of Christianity?  Is it that they have discovered a better system? To what virtues are their principles
favorable? Or is there one which Christians have not carried to a
higher perfection than any of which their party can boast?  Have
they discovered a more excellent rule of life, or a better hope in
death, than that which the Scriptures suggest?  Above all, what
are the pretensions on which they rest their claims to be the guides
of mankind; or which embolden them to expect we should trample
upon the experience of ages, and abandon a religion which has been
attested by a train of miracles and prophecies, in which millions of
our forefathers have found a refuge in every trouble, and consolation in the hour of death; a religion which has been adorned with
the highest sanctity of character and splendor of talents, which en
rols among its disciples the names of Bacon, Newton, and Locke,
the glory of their species, and to which these illustrious men were
proud to dedicate the last and best fruits of their immortal genius?
If the question at issue is to be decided by argument, nothing
can be added to the triumph of Christianity; if by an appeal to authority, what have our adversaries to oppose to these great names?
Where are the infidels of such pure, uncontaminated morals, unshaken probity, and extended benevolence, that we should be in
danger of being seduced into impiety by their example? Into what
obscure recesses of misery, into what dungeons have their philanthropists penetrated, to lighten the fetters and relieve the sorrows
of the helpless captive?  What barbarous tribes have their Apos
tles visited; what distant climes have they explored, encompassed




892                    ROBERT HALL.
with cold, nakedness, and want, to diffuse principles of virtue, anb
the blessings of civilization? Or will they rather choose to waive
their pretensions to this extraordinary and, in their eyes, eccentric
species of benevolence (for infidels, we know, are sworn enemies to
enthusiasm of every sort), and rest their character on their political
exploits-on their efforts to reanimate the virtue of a sinking state,
to restrain licentiousness, to calm the tumult of popular fury, and
by inculcating the spirit of justice, moderation, and pity for fallen
greatness, to mitigate the inevitable horrors of revolution? our adversaries will at least have the discretion, if not the modesty, to
recede from the test.
More than all, their infatuated eagerness, their parricidal zeal to
extinguish a sense of Deity must excite astonishment and horror. Is
the idea of an Almighty and perfect Ruler unfriendly to any passion
which is consistent with innocence, or an obstruction to any design
which it is not shameful to avow? Eternal God, on what are thine
enemies intent I What are those enterprises of guilt and horror,
that, for the safety of their performers, require to be enveloped in a
darkness which the eye of Heaven must not pierce   Miserable
men l Proud of being the offspring of chance: in love with universal disorder; whose happiness is involved in the belief of there
being no witness to their designs, and who are at ease only because
they suppose themselves inhabitants of a forsaken and fatherless
world I
Having been led by the nature of the subject to consider chiefly
the manner in which skeptical impiety affects the welfare of states, it
is the more requisite to warn you against that most fatal mistake of
regarding religion as an engine of policy; and to recall your recollection that the concern we have in it is much more as individuals
than as collective bodies, and far less temporal than eternal. The hap.
piness which it confers in the present life comprehends the blessings
which it scatters by the way in its march to immortality. That
future condition of being which it ascertains, and for which its
promises and truths are meant to prepare us, is the ultimate end of
human societies, the final scope and object of present existence; in
comparison of which all the revolutions of nations and all the vicissitudes of time are light and transitory. Godliness has, it is true, the
promise of the life that now is; but chiefly of that which is to come.
Other acquisitions may be requisite to make men great; but, be as.
sured, the religion of Jesus is alone sufficient to make them good
and happy. Powerful sources of consolation in sorrow, unshaken
fortitude amid the changes and perturbations of the world, humility




MODERN INFIDELITY  CONSIDERED.                  898
remote from meanness, ard dignity unstained by pride, contentment
in every station, passions pure and calm, with habitual serenity, the
full enjoyment of life, undisturbed by the dread of dissolution or the
fear of an hereafter, are its invaluable gifts. To these enjoyments,
however, you will necessarily continue strangers, unless you resign
yourselves wholly to its power; for the consolations of religion are reerved to reward, to sweeten, and to stimulate obedience. Many,
without renouncing the profession of Christianity, without formally
rejecting its distinguishing doctrines, live in such an habitual violation of its laws and contradiction to its spirit, that, conscious they
have more to fear than to hope from its truth, they are never able to
contemplate it without terror. It haunts their imagination, instead
of tranquilizing their hearts, and hangs with depressing weight on
all their enjoyments and pursuits. Their religion, instead of conr
forting them under their trouble, is itself their greatest trouble, from
which they seek refuge in the dissipation and vanity of the world,
until the throbs and tumults of conscience force them back upon religion. Thus suspended between opposite powers, the sport of con.
tradictory influences, they are disqualified for the happiness of both
worlds; and neither enjoy the pleasures of sin nor the peace of
piety. Is it surprising to find a mind thus bewildered in uncertainty,
and dissatisfied with itself, courting deception, and embracing with
eagerness every pretext to mutilate the claims and enervate the authority of Christianity; forgetting that it is of the very essence of
the religious principle to preside and control, and that it is impossible to serve God and mammon? It is this class of professors who
are chiefly in danger of being entangled in the snares of infidelity.
The champions of infidelity have much more reason to be
ashamed than to boast of such converts. For what can be a stronger
presumption of the falsehood of a system than that it is the opiate
of a restless conscience; that it prevails with minds of a certain
description, not because they find it true, but because they feel it
necessary; and that in adopting it they consult less with their reason
than with their vices and their fears?  It requires but little sagacity
to foresee that speculations which originate in guilt must end in ruin.
Infidels are not themselves satisfied with the truth of their system;
for had they any settled assurance of its principles, in consequence
of calm dispassionate investigation, they would never disturb the
quiet of the world by their attempts to proselyte; but would lament
their own infelicity, in not being able to perceive sufficient evidence
for the truth of religion, which furnishes such incentives to virtue,
and inspires such exalted hopes. Having nothing to substitute in




894                   ROBERT HALL.
the place of religion, it is absurd to suppose that, in opposition to
the collective voice of every country, age, and time proclaiming its
necessity, solicitude for the welfare of mankind impels them to
destroy it.
To very different motives must their conduct be imputed. Miore
like conspirators than philosophers, in spite of the darkness with
which they endeavor to surround themselves, some rays of unwelcome conviction will penetrate, some secret apprehensions that all is
not right will make themselves felt, which they find nothing so
effectual to quell as an attempt to enlist fresh disciples, who, in exchange for new principles, impart confidence and diminish fear. For
the same reason it is seldom they attack Christianity by argument;
their favorite weapons are ridicule, obscenity, and blasphemy; as the
most miserable outcasts of society are, of all men, found most to delight in vulgar merriment and senseless riot.
Jesus Christ seems to have " His fan in His hand, to be thoroughly
purging His floor;" and nominal Christians will probably be scattered
like chaff. But has real Christianity any thing to fear?  Have not
the degenerate manners and corrupt lives of multitudes in the visible
Church been, on the contrary, the principal occasion of scandal and
offense? Infidelity, without intending it, is gradually removing
this reproach: possessing the property of attracting to itself the
morbid humors which pervade the Church, until the Christian profession, on the one hand, is reduced to a sound and healthy state, and
skepticism, on the other, exhibits nothing but a mass of putridity
and disease.
In a view of the final issue of the contest, we should find little
cause to lament the astonishing prevalence of infidelity, but for a
solicitude for the rising generation, to whom its principles are recommended by two motives, with young minds the most persuasive —
the love of independence, and the love of pleasure. With respect
to the first, we would earnestly entreat the young to remember that,
by the unanimous consent of all ages, modesty, docility, and reverence to superior years, and to parents above all, have been considered
as their appropriate virtues, a guard assigned by the immutable laws
of God and nature on the inexperience of youth; and with respect
to the second, that Christianity prohibits no pleasures that are innocent, lays no restraints that are capricious; but that the sobriety and
purity which it enjoins, by strengthening the intellectual powers, and
preserving the faculties of mind and body in undiminished vigor,
lay the surest foundations of present peace and future eminence. At
such a season as this, it becomes an urgent duty on parents, guard



MODERN INFIDELITY CONSIDERED                  395
ians, and tutors to watch, not only over the morals, but the principles of those committed to their care; to make it appear that a concern for their eternal welfare is their chief concern; and to imbue
them early with that knowledge of the evidences of Christianity,
and that profound reverence for the Scriptures that, with the blessing of God (which, with submission, they may then expect), " may
keep them from this hour of temptation that has come upon all the
world, to try them that dwell on the earth."
To an attentive observer of the signs of the times, it will appear
one of the most extraordinary phenomena of this eventful crisis
that, amid the ravages of atheism and infidelity, real religion is evidently on the increase. The kingdom of God, we know, cometh
not with observation; but still there are not wanting manifest tokens
of its approach. The personal appearance of the Son of God was
announced by the shaking of nations; His spiritual kingdom, in all
probability, will be established in the midst of similar convulsions
and disorders. The blasphemous impiety of the enemies of God, as
well as the zealous efforts of His sincere worshipers, will doubtless
be overruled to accomplish the purposes of His unerring providence:
while, in afflicting the chastisements of offended Deity on corrupt
communities and nations, infidelity marks its progress by devastation
and ruin, by the prostration of thrones and concussion of kingdoms;
thus appalling the inhabitants of the world, and compelling them to
take refuge in the Church of God, the true sanctuary; the stream of
Divine knowledge, unobserved, is flowing in new channels, winding
its course among humbler valleys, refreshing thirsty deserts, and enriching with far other and higher blessings than those of commerce
the most distant climes and nations, until, agreeably to the prediction
of prophecy, "the knowledge of the Lord shall fill and cover the
whole earth."
Within the limits of this discourse it would be impracticable to
exhibit the evidences of Christianity; nor is it my design: but there
is one consideration, resulting immediately from my text, which is
entitled to great weight with all who believe in the one living and
true God as the sole object of worship. The Ephesians, in common
with other Gentiles, are described in the text as being, previous to
their conversion, "without God in the world;" that is, without any
just and solid acquaintance with His character, destitute of the
knowledge of His will, the institutes of His worship, and the hopes
of His favor; to the truth of which representation, whoever possesses
the slightest acquaintance with pagan antiquity must assent. Nor
is it a fact less incontestable that, while human ohilosophy was never




896                   ROBERT HALL.
able to abolish idolatry in a single village, the promulgation of the
Gospel overthrew it in a great part (and that the most enlightened'
of the world. If our belief in the unity and perfections of God
together with His moral government and exclusive right to the wor
ship of mankind, be founded in truth, they can not reasonably be
denied to be truths of the first importance, and infinitely to outweigh
he greatest discoveries in science; because they turn the hopes,
fears, and interests of man into a totally different channel from that
in which they must otherwise flow. Wherever these principles are
first admitted, there a new dominion is erected, and a new system of
laws established.
But since all events are under Divine direction, is it reasonable
to suppose that the great Parent, after suffering His c.-Atures to continue for ages ignorant of His true character, should at length, it. the
course of His Providence, fix upon falsehood, and that alone, as th:
effectual method of making Himself known; and that, what the
virtuous exercise of reason in the best and wisest men was never
permitted to accomplish, He should confer on fraud and delusion thc
honor of effecting? It ill comports with the majesty of truth, or
the character of God, to believe that He has built the noblest superstructure on the weakest foundation; or reduced mankind to tphe
miserable alternative either of remaining destitute of the knowledge
of Himself, or of deriving it from the polluted source of impious
impostures. We therefore feel ourselves justified, on this occasion,
in adopting the triumphant boast of the great Apostle: " Where I
the wise, where is the scribe, where is the disputer of this world 
Hath not God made foolish the wisdom of this world? For after
that, in the wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not God.
it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save tiem that be.
lieve."




DISCOURSE TWENTY.EIGHTH.
WILLIAM JAY.
MR. JAY was born at Tisbury —a lovely and picturesque village —of
poor but religious parents. His father was a stone-mason, and young
Tay continued to labor with him at the same business until shortly after
his conversion. This occurred previous to the year 1784, when, at the
age of fourteen, he was introduced to Rev. Cornelius Winter, who af.
forded him the use of his library, and, persuaded of his talents and
piety, encouraged him to enter the Christian ministry. It was under
Mr. Winter that he pursued his preliminary studies. His first sermon
was preached shortly after sixteen, at Abbington, from 1 Peter, i. 2, 3:
" If so be ye have tasted that the Lord is gracious."  Before he was of
age, he had preached near a thousand sermons; and so great was the
enthusiasm excited by his efforts, that in some instances the places of
worship overflowed, and the lingering multitude in the yard would not
disperse till the young speaker had bidden them farewell from the
window.
By a series of remarkable providences he was led to settle at Bath,
where he spent more than sixty years in the pastorate of the same
church. He died December 27, 1853, having preached his last sermon,
three months previous, from the words of Job (ch. xl. 4), " Behold, I
am vile."
Few preachers have had a wider notoriety than William Jay. His
native powers must have been very extraordinary, and his application
extremely close, or he could not have drawn to his preaching, as he did,
the expressed admiration of such individuals as Wilberforce, and Hall,
and Poster, and Chalmers, and Hannah More; and been invited to
preach five times the annual sermon before the London Missionary So.
ciety. It is said that he was the only dissenting minister ever invited
to preach before royalty. Dr. James Hamilton speaks of hearing him
" with wonder and delight;" and Brinsley Sheridan said that Jay was
the most perfectly natural orator he had ever heard.
Jay's sermons, some of which have been widely circulated, are uni.
formly marked by a devotional spirit, clearness and simplicity of style,
beautiful conceptions expressed in good, plain Saxon words, strong,




398                    WILLIAM  JAY.
sound common sense, happy illustrations, great terseness-especially in
his practical directions, which often have the force and wisdom of
proverbs-and a perfect ingraining of Scripture phraseology, making
them oftentimes a very "garden of sweets."  The eloquence of Jay
consists, not in the lofty and fervid utterances of Hall or Chalmers, but
in the gentle and noiseless flow of fresh, original, appropriate, practical
thoughts; reminding one of Beckford's description of Jay's mind-" a
clear, transparent spring, flowing so freely as to impress us with the
idea of its being inexhaustible." The sermon which follows was
preached at Argyle Chapel, Bath, Oct. 22, 1809.
THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.
" It shall be a jubilee unto you." —LEv., xxv. 10.
" He that winneth souls is wise." This wisdom is from above;
and is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full
of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.
No person ever possessed more of this excellency than Paul. His
prudence appears in the selection and variation of the means he employed to accomplish his end. He considered the circumstances, the
tempers, the prejudices of his hearers. He addressed every principle,
and every passion of human nature. He reasoned; he declaimed.
He reproved; he admonished; he warned; he encouraged. He
compassed sea and land to furnish himself with illustrations and assistance. He borrowed from the institutions of Judaism. He borrowed from the institutions of Heathenism. He borrowed from the
manners of the age. He borrowed from the festive games. Not a
wrestling or a race passed by unnoticed or unimproved. Any occurrence, however accidental or transitory, he seized, to guide the
attention which it awakened, to some wise and important purpose.
"And as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies;
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way."
Hear his own language-" Though I be free from all men, yet
have I made myself servant unto all that I may gain the more.
And unto the Jews I became as a Jew, that I might gain the Jews;
to them that are under the law, as under the law, that I might gain
them that are under the law; to them that are without law, as with




THE GOSPEL JtUBILEE.                   899
out law (being not without law to God, but under the lair to Christ),
that I might gain them that are without law. To the weak became
I as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all
men, that I might by all means save some."
My brethren, your preacher does not intend a comparison: but
he wishes to feel the stimulus of an example so excellent. He does
not challenge praise; but hopes for approbation, in a particular instance. If Paul be worthy of imitation, I am more than justified in
the choice of my subject this evening. As our venerable and
virtuous sovereign enters the fiftieth year of his reign on Wednesday
next, an observance is intended, called-Jubilee; and I am going to
lead back your minds to the origin of the name. My design is, not
to indulge in applauding or censuring the measure, but to enable
you to improve it, especially in aid of religious reflection.
Let me explain the nature of the Jubilee-make some remarks
on the design of it-and examine what there is in the Gospel to correspond with it. Consider what I say, and may the Lord give you
understanding in all things.
I. It is hardly necessary to take up any of your time, by inquiring
after the etymology of the word Jubilee; in Hebrew, Jobel. It
signifies, according to some rabbins, a ram's horn, with which tile
festival was proclaimed. But how, asks the learned Calmet, could a
ram's horn, which is crooked, and not hollow, be used as a trumpet?
It was therefore, probably, says he, a trumpet in the form of a rain's
horn. Others derive Jobel from Jubal, who was the inventor of
musical instruments; and suppose that the year was named after
him, because it was a year of rejoicing, of which music is commonly an emblem: or because it was ushered in with the sound of
music through the whole land. Hottinger is of opinion that Jobel
does not signify the instrument, but the noise it made; and that the
word is invented to imitate the sound. Patrick espouses this sentiment; and justifies it by a reference to the passover, which was
called Pesach, from the angel's passing over the Israelites, when he
slew the Egyptians. There is another conjecture, says Jennings,
much more probable, and which supposes that it comes from the
verb Hobil, to bring or call back; because then every thing was
restored. Accordingly, the Septuagint renders it remission; and
Josephus says it signifies liberty.
The learned are not more agreed concerning the period in which
the Jubilee was celebrated. Whether it was observed every fortyninth or fiftieth year, is a question on each side of which the advocates seem equally numerous and emirent. I shall not trouble you




400                   WILLIAM  JAY
with their respective arguments; but only remark that the authors
of the Universal History have endeavored to reconcile these two
opinions by observing that as the Jubilee began in the first month
of the civil year, which was the seventh month of the ecclesiastical,
it might be said to be either the forty-ninth or the fiftieth, according as the one or the other of these computations is followed.
For a general account of this ordinance, I refer you to the charge
which God gave to Moses at the institution. "And thou shalt number seven Sabbaths of years unto thee, seven times seven years; and
the space of the seven Sabbaths of years shall be unto thee forty and
nine years. Then shalt thou cause the trumpet of the Jubilee to
sound, on the tenth day of the seventh month, in the day of atonement shall ye make the trumpet sound throughout all your land.
And ye shall hallow the fiftieth year, and proclaim liberty through.
out all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof; it shall be a Jubilee unto you; and ye shall return every man unto his possession,
and ye shall return every man unto his family. A Jubilee shall
that fiftieth year be unto you; ye shall not sow, neither reap that
which groweth of itself in it, nor gather the grapes in it of thy vine
undressed. For it is the Jubilee; it shall be holy unto you: ye
shall eat the increase thereof out of the field. In the year of this
Jubilee ye shall return every man unto his possession." Let us
arrange and explain the contents of this statement.
The Jubilee was a season of relaxation, repose, and pleasure.
The first nine days were spent in festivity. The people indulged in
every kind of lawful mirth. They wore crowns on their heads, and
decorated their garments with flowers. During the remainder of the
season no servile work was done. There was no plowing or sowing
The earth spontaneously yielded her increase, and of the produce all
were allowed to partake. The proprietor of a field or a vineyard
had no more claim to the grapes or corn than his poor neighbor.
They had all things common.
The Jubilee announced release from bondage. All slaves were
free, with their wives and children. They who had renounced the
privilege given to them by the sabbatical year, of recovering their
liberty, and whose ears have been bored in token of perpetual servitude, were emancipated from their masters. Even all foreign slaves
enjoyed the same privilege of exemption, and could not be detained
another moment in vassalage.
The Jubilee proclaimed the remission of debts, whether small or
great, lately contracted or of long standing. It arrested the arm of
the merciless creditor, who was taking his fellow by the throat, say



THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.                   401
mag, Pay me that thou owest. It hastily opened the door of the
dungeon, and permitted the light of heaven to visit the wretch im
mured in the cold and gloomy prison, struck off his fetters, and led
him forth to his relations and friends, anxious to hail him on his
release.
The Jubilee caused the lost inheritance to revert to the original
owner. The sale of his estate could only extend to the arrival of
this period: but there was no wrong done in this case to the purchaser, because the time of the restitution was fixed and known, and
he bought- accordingly. The joy of recovery is more lively and
intense than the calm satisfaction resulting from uninterrupted possession. Things most powerfully strike us when they are viewed
and felt in contrast. It is the want that teaches us the worth of our
enjoyments. Behold an Israelite, who had been reduced to the condition of a stranger even in his own land, who had walked like an
alien in sight of a house, and by the side of a field and a vineyard
which he once called his own —with what pleasure would he feel
himself reinstated into his patrimonial heritage I Lectured and prepared by all the trials of indigence, and exile, and uncertainty, with
what gratitude would he exult, " The lines have fallen unto me in
pleasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage."
There is another circumstance which must by no means be omitted. It is the solemnity that immediately preceded the Jubilee. For
you will remember that the proclamation was made on the day of
atonement. As soon as the victim of expiation was offered, and
reconciliation was made for the sins of the people-then-and not
before, was the command given to the priests to blow. They stood
ready, with their trumpets in their hands, and their faces turned
toward the east, and the west, and the north, and the south, waiting
the signal: and no sooner was it given than their sound went into
all the land, and the joyful intelligence was published in every region,
and in every village.
From this representation it appears that the Jubilee must have
been an event of peculiar interest to the Jews, and we proceed
II. To make a few remarks upon the design of it. Our ignorance
of a period so remote, and of a people so peculiar, will not allow of
our appreciating the importance of such an institution in every
instance. We do not, therefore, pretend to develop all the advantages attached to it, but it is easy to see that whether it be examined
with regard to humanity, policy, or religion, it will be found to pos.
sess no small degree of utility.
First. Considered humanely, it was important. It had a merci26




402                   WILLIAM  JAY.
ful and kind aspect on the lower ranks of life, and would tend to
keep their spirits from being broken, depressed, degraded. Who can
bear everlasting application, or hopeless fatigue? Incessant and
unvaried toil from day to day, from year to year, annihilates all
sense of personal dignity. It brutalizes the mind by assimilation,
produced by a constancy and uniformity of low impressions. Nothing occurs to remind the man that he is a rational and immortal
being. Every moment being necessarily demanded for the cravings
of the body, the soul is neglected till it is forgotten. Habits are
generated so perfectly material that he becomes incapable of every
mental effort, and dead to every glowing purpose; at best, he is the
subject'of a sullen disquietude, or a cheerless contentment. There
is nothing so provoking to God, who is the lovely Father of all
mankind, as the oppression and misery of the poor and needy " For
the sighing of the poor, for the crying of the needy, now will I arise
(saith the Lord), now will I show Myself."  "It is not of the Lord
that the people labor in the fire, and weary themselves for very vanity."  It is the pleasure of the Almighty that man should have some
active employment. It is the law of his creation. A particular
necessity, indeed, falls on him as the consequence of sin: "Cursed
is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow thou shalt eat of it all the
days of thy life; thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee;
and thou shalt eat of the herb of the field; in the sweat of thy face
shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground." But He
who pronounced this curse is a Father as well as a Sovereign. In
the midst of judgment He remembers mercy. He renders the obligation to which we have subjected ourselves a physical and a moral
blessing: and He limits the degree, the extent of the obligation
itself. He ordains labor, but never designed that absolute drudgery
should be necessary to acquire a pitiful subsistence. He has prepared of His goodness for the poor; and His designs are gracious,
though men pervert them. Thus He gave the Jews occasional relaxation and ease. HIe allowed them time for rest and reflection. He
resigned them one day in every seven days, one year in every seven
years, and one year in every fifty years, in addition to both-during
wbieh they could wipe their brows, unload their heavy burdens, and
attend to their persons, their children, and the Book of God.
Secondly. Considered politically, it was important.
Slaves, for certain reasons, were allowed under the Jewish dispensation; but, by this law, what was tolerated was qualified, and
perpetual slavery was prevented.
In every well-ordered state it will be an object to fix those who




THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.                    403
reside in it, not by necessity, but choice and preference. The secret
to prevent at once emigration and disaffection, is to cause some flow.
ers to spring up around the cottage, however humble; to keep the
soil from becoming barren and dreary; to secure some enjoyments,
some advantages that will render the idea of home estimable and
attractive, and make the individual feel an interest which he is
unwilling to resign, and determined to defend. That which we have
a propriety in we seldom disregard. This was the case with the
Jews. The provisions of the Jubilee attached them to their own
country, and their native soil. They viewed with veneration and
affection the estates that had descended from their ancestors, and
were to be continued to their posterity. Even when they had no
share in possession, they had one in remembrance; they had one in
hope, and could never feel detached from the commonwealth of
Israel.
The leveling of property is impossible and absurd. Yet a state
is never in a prosperous condition when the community is divided
between two classes only, the very rich, and the very poor; and the
various intermediate degrees that constitute the strength, the happiness, the glory of a country, disappear. The law of Jubilee prevented at once abject poverty, and excessive accumulation of wealth.
It was impossible for any to gain very large possessions, either by
usurpation, mortgage, purchase, or heirship. The tendency to departure from the original medium of estate, both in deficiency and
excess, was seasonably checked, and the balance restored. We read
that something like this was established among the Lacedemonians,
by their famous legislator, Lycurgus. He not only banished slavery,
but instituted a kind of equality, or rather mediocrity of fortune.
His endeavor was, as far as he was able, to hinder any one from
becoming too powerful or too rich. Such was the design of the
ostracism which he introduced. It consisted in expelling citizens
whose wealth and influence rendered their aggrandizement prejudicial to the state. A similar plan, also, was proposed by Stolo. To
repress the avarice of the old Romans, he made a law which forbade
any particular person from having more than five hundred acres of
land. Fraudulence soon destroyed this wise constitution, and he
himself was condemned for violating his own statute.
But to return. Never was there a people on earth so secure of
their liberty and property as the Israelites were: for while they
were protected from the invasion of their enemies by the promise
and providence of God, by the Jubilee they were not suffered to lose




404                   WILLIAM  JAY.
these privileges, even by their follies and vices, unless parAally and
for a time.
Thirdly. Considered relgiowusly it was important. It established
the divine authority of Moses-it verified the prophecies with regard
to the descent of the Messiah-it was typical of the Christian dispensation.
It established the divine authority of Moses. For we may boldly
affirm that no legislator, unless conscious of being divinely inspired,
would ever have committed himself by enacting such a law. It was
founded on a standing miracle. It forbade all agricultural process,
on the assurance that the year preceding should render it needless,
by yielding an abundance sufficient to answer its demands without
tillage. For this double produce in one season he pledged himself.
Would an impostor have done this? How easily would he have
been detected I Had his assertion been false, a people so prone to
rebel, and so governed by present appearances, would never have
submitted to the loss of a year's produce, neither would the possessors of acquired estates have resigned them. Their obedience in such
circumstances abundantly proves the truth of his claims.
It verified the prophecies with regard to the descent of the Messiah. It rendered necessary the continuance of the distinction of
every tribe and family: this preserved their genealogies secure and
clear: and thus ultimately, and no doubt intentionally, it served to
ascertain the birth of our Lord and Saviour from the tribe of Ju.
dah, and the family of David. Indeed every dispensation of Divine
Providence or grace from the beginning of the world, regarded the
coming of the Messiah, and issued in " the fullness of Him that filleth all in all."
Finally, it was a type of the Christian dispensation. Observe,
my brethren, the words of the Apostle to the Hebrews. "God,"
says he,' has provided some better thing for us, that they without
us shoula not be made perfect."  Here he compares the law with
the Gospel, and reminds us that the one is superior to the other;
yea, that the one is the completion of the other. Judaism without
Christianity would have been defective-as a dawn without the day:
and it would have been uninteresting and unintelligible-like an
allegory without the clew, or a prefiguration without the reality.
The various usages and institutions of the ceremonial economy de.
rive their significancy, their value, their perfection from reference:
they were all "shadows of good things to come, but the body is
Christ." This renders the Old Testament so delightful and edifying
to a Christian. By means of the subsequent explanations of the




THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.                    405
New Testament writers, he can go back and compare promise with
accomplishment; the figure with the substance. He can read the
glory of his Redeemer in the patriarchal dignity, in the prophetical
wisdom, in the priestly sanctity, in the kingly dominion. He can
find Him in the sufferings and elevation of Joseph: in the splendor
of Solomon: in the burial and resurrection of Jonah. He can see
Him as the bread that came down from heaven in the manna; as the
water of life in the streams that flowed from the rock in the wilderness; as an offering for sin in the slaughtered bullock or bleeding
lamb. In the brazen serpent he beholds Him as dying on the cross,
" that whoever believeth on Him shall not perish but have everlasting life." He meets Him, he hears Him in the Jubilee. It is in
allusion to this season that our Lord expresses Himself, in the
words of Isaiah; " The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me: because
the Lord hath anointed Me to preach good tidings unto the meek;
He hath sent Me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty
to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are
bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord."
Let us therefore,
III. Inquire what there is in the Gospel to correspond with the
Jubilee. I am sorry to be obliged to remark that the figurative lan.
guage of Divine revelation has been frequently abused by violence,
and debased by littleness. Expositors and preachers have too commonly supposed that a conformity was to be sought for in every
attribute, and in every circumstance of the subject. Whereas a
real and striking degree of similitude is all that is required in any
writer; and the same will hold with regard to the metaphors, parables, and types of the Scripture. This being premised, we are not
afraid to bring the Jubilee and the Gospel together. A very superficial examination will decide that there is a wonderful analogy between them.
Did the Jubilee afford rest? This the Gospel realizes. It calls,
us to cease from Jewish ceremonies, from superstitious rites, from
slavish fears, from perplexing anxieties, from worldly disquietudes.
It tells us that all things are now ready; and that we are welcome'
to partake of the common salvation of God's people. The Christian
thus finds himself blessed with all spiritual blessings in heavenly
places in Christ; and by believing enters into rest. He confides
also in His providence. He knows from the love, the power, and
the promise of his heavenly Father, that though the young lions
may lack and suffer hunger, they that seek the Lord shall not want
any good thing. He is therefore careful for nothing, but in every




:08                  WILLIAM  JAY.
thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving he makes known
his requests unto God, and the peace of God that passeth all under.
standing keeps his heart and mind through Christ Jesus.
Did the Jubilee confer liberty? This the Gospel realizes. We
hadl sold ourselves for naught. We were led captive by the devil
at his will. We were the slaves of sin. We served divers lusts
and pleasures. But " where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty."  "Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you
free; and if the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed." No
longer unable to hearken to the voice of conscience, or follow the
dictates of our understandings; no longer the vassals of pride, of
avarice, of envy, of malice; no longer under the tyranny of our
passions, our appetites, our senses-we are the Lord's free men; we
are brought into the glorious liberty of the sons of God.
Did the Jubilee insure remission of debts? This the Gospel
realizes. Did we owe much, and were we able to pay nothing?
Had our iniquities increased over our heads, and became a burden
too heavy for us to bear? Was the adversary ready to deliver us
to the judge, and the judge to the officer? "Deliver," said the
voice, "from going down into the pit, for I have found a ransom.
With the Lord there is mercy, and with Him there is plenteous
redemption. I even I am He that blotteth out thy transgressions
for My own name sake; and will not remember thy sins."  "Let the
wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts: and
let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him;
and to our God, for He will abundantly pardon."
Did the Jubilee restore alienated estates. This the Gospel realizes. Heaven was to have been our possession —we were originally
heirs of it. We forfeited our title; and were left without hope.
But behold the poor and the needy enriched. Behold the treasures
of eternity promised them. See them not only "justified by His
grace;" but "made heirs according to the hope of eternal life."
"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, which
according to His abundant mercy hath begotten us again unto a
lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an
inheritance incorruptible and undefiled, and that fadeth not away,
reserved in heaven for you, who are kept by the power of God
through faith unto salvation ready to be revealed in the last time."
Was the Jubilee proclaimed on the day of expiation, and as
soon as the atonement was offered? This the Gospel realizes. No
sooner had our Saviour given Himself "an offering and a sacrifice
to God of a sweet-smelling savor," than the heavens smiled, and the




THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.                    407
earth rejoiced. The messengers of reconciliation were sent forth to
"preach the Gospel to every creature." They began in Jei asalem;
but the good news was published in every country: and the mnessage
shall continue to spread till it has reached "the ends of the earth,
and all flesh shall see the salvation of our God together."
Let us not hastily pass over this part of our subject. We wish
you never to forget that, as the Jewish Jubilee began in the typical
atonement of Aaron, so the Christian Jubilee is founded in the real
atonement of Christ. We read of a purpose of grace before the
world began; but it was given us "in Him."  We hear of eternal
life; but it is "in Him." We say we have righteousness and
strength; but it is "in Him." Examine the scheme of salvation in
all its parts, and in all its progress; and the necessity of a mediator
is never left out. And how was He a mediator?  Precisely in the
same way as the high priest who typified Him. It was by sacrifice
that Aaron, on the behalf of the people, interposed, interceded,
blessed. And when Christ came to seek and to save that which was
lost, He "gave His life a ransom for many."  When. He returned,
"He entered with His own blood into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us."  Hence it is said "in Him we
have redemption through His blood, even the forgiveness of sins:"
we " have boldness to enter into the holiest of all by the blood of
Jesus:" they who are before the throne, "have washed their robes,
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb."
We learn from hence that the atonement of Christ is an essential blessing, a comprehensive blessing; that every thing else depends upon it, and results from it; that to this we owe all our deliverance, and all our hope. No wonder, therefore, that the Apostle
should make it a leading object, and even among the polite and
learned Corinthians begin with it: " I delivered unto you first of
all, that which I also received, how that Jesus Christ died for our
sins according to the Scriptures." No wonder he should make it
his last, as well as his first concern-no wonder he should make it
his only one; "I determined to know nothing among you save
Jesus Christ, and Him  crucified."  No wonder he abhorred the
thought of exulting in any thing beside; and exclaimed " God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."
No wonder the Church of God in all ages, have found their hap.
piest moments to have been those in which they could say, " Unto
Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood,
and hath made us kings and priests unto God, and His Father, be
glory and dominion forever and ever." No wonder that those who




408                  WILLIAM  JAY.
have finished their course with joy, and no longer see through a
glass darkly, should sing a new song, saying, "Thou wast slain, and
hast redeemed us unto God by Thy blood, out of every kindred,
and tongue, and people, and nation." No wonder the angels round
about the throne, and the beasts and the elders, and whose number
is ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands,
should say with " a loud voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain
to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor,
and glory, and blessing."
What can we think of those who conceal, who deny, who insult
the atoning death of our Lord and Saviour?
What are your sentiments and dispositions with regard to this
Lmportant event.
Ah, my brethren, this event becomes a test; a test to try our
schemes, our character, our destiny: a test the most awful: a test,
established by an authority from which there lies no appeal. " We
preach Christ crucified, unto the Jews a stumbling-block; and unto
the Greeks foolishness; but unto them that are called, both Jews
and Greeks, Christ the power of God, and the wisdom of God." He
that despised Moses's law died without mercy, under two or three
witnesses: "of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he be
thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of God, and
hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith He was sanctified,
an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace."
To conclude. Having discovered the nature and excellency of
the Gospel, we learn, my brethren, the way in which it is to be regarded by us. It demands joy and gladness. It is a Jubilee; and
preachers and hearers should animate each other, and say, "0  magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt His name together." " This
is the day which the Lord has made, we will rejoice and be glad
in it."
With what satisfaction and pleasure would a Jewish priest proclaim the arrival of the Jubilee? And shall a Christian minister be
cold and senseless, who has "this grace given, to preach among the
Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ?" 0 what a privilege to
go and publish that God " has not spared His own Son, but delivered
Him up for us all, and that with Him He will also freely give us all
things: that God is in Christ reconciling the world unto Himself,
not in putting their trespasses unto them." I would rather be employed in announcing this intelligence to sinners, than be destined
to blow the trump of the archangel that sball awake the dead. I




THE GOSPEL JUBILEE.                    409
would rather call you to the feet of the Saviour than to the tribunal
of the Judge.
It is easy to imagine with what emotions the proclamations of
Jubilee was heard by the inhabitants of Judea, and especially by those
who were so deeply interested in the message. And what comparison
is there between the concerns of time and those of eternityv? What
s the relief of the body to the welfare of the soul?  Will you not
therefore, with a joy proportionably greater, exclaim, " How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth good tidings of good, that
publisheth salvation; that saith unto Zion, Thy God reigneth l"
Thus the Gospel was originally embraced. The Thessalonians received it "in much affliction," yet "with joy of the Holy Ghost."
When by the affecting ministry of the Apostles " before the eyes of
the Galatians, Jesus Christ was evidently set forth crucified among"
them; they were "' blessed," and " could have plucked out their own
eyes, and have given them" to the messenger who brought them such
welcome tidings. When Philip went down and "preached Christ in
Samaria, there was great joy in that city." And is the nature of the
Gospel changed? Is the importance of it diminished? Are the
blessings it communicates, and the hopes it inspires less valuable and
necessary?
The Gospel, my brethren, is not a speculation. It is not a mat-;e.r of idle curiosity. It is not the solution of a problem, or the decision of a point in debate, the knowledge of which can merely affect
the judgment. It brings us " good tidings of great joy." It is not
only wonderful but interesting. It is not only " a faithful saying;"
but " worthy of all acceptation." It is c" all our salvation;" and it
should be " all our desire." It is " our glory;" and should be " our
joy."
There are some who have thus heard the Gospel, and whose condition is described by David in these words: "Blessed is the people
that know the joyful sound: they shall walk, 0 Lord, in the light
of Thy countenance. In Thy name shall they rejoice all the day:
and in Thy righteousness shall they be exalted." But it is to be
feared there are those in this large assembly to whom the intelligence
is a thing of naught. Ye make " light of it and go your way, one
to his farm, and another to his merchandise." What shall we say
to your folly, to your wickedness, to your danger, in refusing the
advantages which the Gospel exhibits to your view, and presses upon
your acceptance? Are these blessings unsuited to your condition?
Are they of no value? Can the world indemnify you for the loss




410                   WILLIAM  JAY.
of them? Can you find a substitute for them —in the distress of
conscience-in the season of affliction-in the hour of death-and
in the day of judgment? Do you not defy the authority of God?
Do you not despise the riches of His goodness? Do you not judge
yourselves unworthy.of everlasting life? Are you not unspeakably
criminal? Will you go unpunished? " How can you escape if you
neglect so great salvation?"
"Now is the accepted time: now is the day of salvation."  And will
it last forever?  Will it last long?  How know you but that He
whQ has so often addressed you in vain, is ready "' to shut to the
door" saying, " 0 that thou hadst known-even thou-at least in
this thy day, the things that belong to thy peace-but now-they
are hid from thine eyes?" It is time, it is high time, but blessed be
His name it is not at present too late. 0I seek Him while He may
be found, and call upon Him while He is near.




DISCOURSE TWENTY.NINT H.
JOHN FOSTER.
FOSTER was born in 1770 at a place called Wadsworth Lanes, in the
parish of Halifax, Yorkshire; and at the age of seventeen made a public profession of religion by uniting with a Baptist Church; and soon
after devoted himself to the Christian ministry. His studies were prosecuted with great assiduity, first at Brearly Hall, under Dr. Fawcet, and
then, three years later, at Bristol College. Shortly after leaving college, in 1792, he settled at Newcastle-on-Tyne, where he remained only
about three months. In 1793 he became pastor of a Baptist Church
in Dublin, where, after about nine months, he ceased pastoral duties,
taught a classical school less than a year, and became quite unsettled
in his plans of life. The probable causes of his failure of success as a
preacher were his recluse habits, peculiar style of preaching, and somewhat loose opinions respecting church organization. Until 1797 he appears to have devoted himself to literary pursuits, when he resumed
the pastoral relation at Chichester, which ended in two and a half years,
by a removal to Downend, where he preached four years. At the expiration of this period, through the recommendation of Robert Hall, he
became Pastor at Frome, where he wrote his first Essays. In 1807 an
affection of the throat compelled him to suspend regular ministerial
duties, and he became connected with the "Eclectic Review" —a re.
lation which continued, with an interval of a few years, till 1839, and
in which he acquired great reputation as a reviewer. During his connection with the Review, he often preached in destitute places. In 1822
he commenced a course of lectures at Broadmead, Bristol, which were
continued, with a slight interruption, until Hall's settlement at that
place. He died in 1843, in the seventy-third year of his age.
Foster was one of the strongest writers, of whatever country or age.
His sermon on "'Popular Ignorance," preached in 1818, and enlarged and
published in 1820, was pronounced by Sir James Mackintosh one of the
most able and profound works of the age. His sermon on " Missions,"
preached the same year, is not inferior in point of merit. The miscellaneous productions of his pen hold a high rank among the most brilliant




412                    3OHN  POSTER
English classics. All his writings are noted for remarkable compiehensiveness, the tersest strength, and great originality and majesty of con.
ception. His eloquence consisted, not in pompous phrases or brilliant
explosions, but the pure force of sense, adorned with the sweetest imagery, and an admirable neatness and compactness of style. Foster did
not generally write his sermons, and with the exception of those above
alluded to, with a few others, and his two volumes of Lectures delivered
at Broadmead, his sermons are not preserved. The specimens that,
remain of his preaching are not remarkable for what is commonly called
oratory, but yet they sustain the judgment of Hall, that " his writings
are like a great lumber-wagon loaded with gold."
The production which follows is not found in any of the common
collections of Foster's writings. In Bohn's edition of his Lectures there
is one on the same text, and with a similar title; but it is entirely different from this, of which, possibly, it might have been a rough sketch.
The sermon here given was published in the "New Baptist Magazine,"
without any signature, and reprinted, in the same way, in this country,
by Littell, in his " Christian Magazine" of 1828. But there are several
facts abundantly verifying its authorship. In 1837 a very few copies of a
small volume were published by Rev. Mr. Mann, of the Maze Pond
Baptist Church, made up of Foster's writings, but appearing without
his name. A well-known clerical friend of the editor of this work informs him that he himself was associated with Mr. Mann in soliciting
of Foster the privilege of publishing that little volume of his writings,
of which volume this sermon forms a part. Its genuineness, from this
circumstance alone, is therefore placed beyond question. Indeed, the
many and obvious traces of Foster's exquisite genius sufficiently indicate its origin.
THE IMPRISONMENT AND DELIVERANCE OF PETER.
" Now about that time Herod the king stretched forth his hands to vex certain of the
Church," etc. —ACTS, xii. 1-11.
The Church is sometimes called "the kingdom of Heaven," the
"kingdom of God" on earth. It is called so by Him who knew
whether it may be justly so called; whether there is any thing in
common between earth and heaven; whether there is any thing good
and heavenly in this world of sin and misery. It may very properly
be called the kingdom of Heaven: nothing of heaven is brought or
kept here, except by the force of heaven. There is a tendency in
this earth to repel every thing that is good; an exploding quality,




THE IMPRISONMENT AND DELIVERANCE OF PETER. 413
that would drive off to millions of leagues all goodness and all good
men. In some places it has actually driven off the kingdom of
Heaven; there are some places where Christianity once flourished,
but where it flourishes no longer. God has suffered the tensity of
His kingdom in some places to slacken, that the power and tendency
of the world's depravity might have scope for exhibition. The
kingdom of Christ here is, therefore, unlike that which prevails in
Heaven, inasmuch as it is subject to persecution. Some men, indeed,
may have been so sublimely depraved as to wish to carry persecu
tion into Heaven itself. Their hatred may have flamed away, in
wish, far beyond the limits of the earth, far beyond the fires of a
volcano, or the smoke of a volcano, or the rocks which are hurled
from its crater. But they have never wished to die, in order to persecute, to attack the Sovereign on His throne; horribly evil as their
wishes may have been, they have not dared to meet Him on His
own ground, to pursue the saints into His presence. The angels
who once dared to resist Him, are not inclined again to meet the
Divine artillery, and defy the Omnipotent. Heaven still retains its
perfect and eternal tranquillity. The opposition of men can not excitefear in this region, it scarcely can excite indignation. It is not
so, however, in the kingdom of God on earth. He will not let His
saints live peaceably here; He would detach their affections from
things below; He is determined they shall not love this present
world; He has therefore made it an uneasy residence, He has excited even their sympathies against it. How can they love a world
that is stained with the blood of their brethren, that is full of their
sufferings, monumentally recorded? The time has been when His
people were witnesses of the persecutions of which we behold only
the monuments. They have had to say, this day, this morning, a
servantof God will bear his last testimony for his master, we shall
lose our friend, our father, our minister. The world has been unwilling to let the saints of God dwell on it; it has denied them
air and light and space to exist in. Its history is emphatically the
history of persecution, the history of martyrdom; one part of the
agents have been persecutors and the others have been persecuted. The
spirit of enmity still rages in the world, and is still indignant that
the servants of Christ should execute His commission, that they
should presume to carry this religion among the heathens, and attack
the temples of idolatry. Not only in that land itself where Satan's
seat is, but even here, where the kingdom of Christ is in some
measure established, there are many who would not endure that a
word should be spoken, tbhrugh that word were sure to reclaim a




414                  JOHN FOSTER.
soul from the darkness of paganism, or the corruption of perverted
Christianity.
It is a fatal thing, however, to persecute the Church of Jesus
Christ. The history of the world abounds with recitals of His vengeance. Many proud monarchs have demolished their own thrones
in attempting to subvert His kingdom. There is something very
corrosive and deadly in a drop of a Christian's blood spilt upon a
throne; it will inevitably sap it to the foundation; it is a lure that
never fails to attract destruction. How many tales are recorded of
the dreadful deaths which princes and ministers, and even obscure
individuals have suffered, whose enmity had been signalized against
the kingdom of God I Many are the states that have fallen with a
mighty crash beneath the stroke of his vengeance; and those which
still subsist, and oppose the authority of the Supreme Governor, will
easily be crushed into a heap of monumental ruins.
If a saint is smitten on earth, a sensation, I might say a commotion, is felt in heaven. When Saul was going to Damascus, only intending to persecute the saints, he was struck to the ground, and interrogated by Christ Himself: "Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou
Me?" Thus God identifies Himself with His people, in literal conformity to those impressive figures which He adopted while on earth;
He is still the head and they are the members; He is the vine and
they are the branches. An insult against them, He feels as against
Himself. What they can not avenge, what they will not avenge
(for He has forbid them, saying, "Vengeance is Mine "), He will.
Among all the hosts of His angels there is not one, perhaps, that
would not promptly come down to act out the vengeance of his
great Lord; who would not gladly take the quarrel on his own hands,
when an insult is committed on the saints. Next to servingChrist
Himself, they love to serve His people. They will follow the individual who is committed to their charge with patience; slow as he
is, they would gladly invite and encourage him to proceed faster;
they will not wander from him, faltering as his steps are; they become friendly by habit and attention, and anticipate in him a companion for eternity in better regions. There are two accounts of the
descents of angels in this very chapter; the one to deliver Peter,
the other to destroy Herod. The same angel was probably commissioned on both services; the same angel would be equally ready to
execute a duty of mercy and a duty of vengeance; he would have
so distinct an idea of the reasons and consequences of both, of the
entire consistency of both with the honor of his Master and the
universal good, that he would perform the office of pun;shment with




THE IMPRISONMENT AND DELIVERANCE OF PETER. 415
the most lively feelings of complacency and general benevolence.
Some of the enemies of God may be overcome in the ordinary methods
of His operation, others are hardened against all conciliation; it requires a miracle of Divine power to change their hearts. Some of
them must be consigned to extinction and extermination. " Now
about that time," says the historian, " Herod the king stretched forth
his hands to vex certain of the Church. And he killed James the
brother of John with the sword. And because he saw it pleased
the Jews he proceeded further to take Peter also."
The Jews were worthy to have a king like Herod. Their love
of persecution must have been intense, if it could induce them to
applaud his cruelty in spite of the conviction that tyranny gains
strength by exercise, and that to encourage cruelty in a monarch
against others was finally to invoke it on themselves. It was remarkable indeed that God's chosen and supported people should be
the leaders of persecution against His own servants. It was a proof
of their extreme and utter degradation, that they must set on their
king to destroy the messenger of their God-that they must show
him the way, as if he could not take the scent of blood himselfthat they must be his jackals-that they must hunt the victims for
his cruelty. Perhaps this was their way of taking vengeance on
Jesus Christ for having presumed to rise from the dead-for having
despised their seal on his sepulcher, and their soldiers to guard it.
He had ascended beyond their reach, and they would take their venge
ance on his disciples. They were delighted to have a minister, a
devil, the fiercest spirit Satan could send them, on their thronethe throne of David; so that he would indulge them with the blood
of the saints; so that they could but see the Church of Christ afflicted,
and James put to the sword.
A certain degree of success in wickedness usually makes men
daring and confident. This prince, after killing James, had. no fear
or hesitation in laying his hand on Peter also; he consigned him as
a victim-animal to his cage, perfectly sure he could bring him forth
to death whenever it suited his leisure and the piety of the Jews,
he felt no terror from the reflection that he had slain a servant of
Jesus; he had no suspicion that the spirit of James had ascended to
the throne of God to bear witness against him. He fell into the
common mistake of men concerning the delay of Divine vengeance,
they thinkl Him altogether like themselves: if He does not strike in
anger as soon as He is offended, they think He will not strike at all;
if His thunderbolts sleep, they think He hath forgotten the affront,
and they try to forget it themselves; they give it up to a dark cor



416                  JOHN FOSTER
ner or a lumber-room of their memories, as a thing to which they
would never revert, though they must retain it. "He proceedeth
further to take Peter also." Peter was easily taken; it was not for
him to abscond and abandon the cause which he knew to be divine,
and which he had always been told would be dangerous; he remembered what he had once said, " Though all men forsake Thee,
yet will not I." It was not for him to flee who had once denied his
Lord in the moment of peril; ever after that fault, he seems to have
been undauntedly courageous: he was naturally bold, and after this
one flagrant instance of cowardice, we find him more resolute than
ever to brave opposition and present his breast to the dagger. It
was not for him to retire and escape, especially after the cause was
become dangerous, after the conflict was begun, after the vanguard
was destroyed. We have often read of valiant troops, when the
first rank of their army had fallen, that would march over the
corpses of their comrades and step into the same peril, and in the
same place. Peter was easily taken. There was but one place to
find him: he would not be met with but in the very spot where
James had fallen. He was not afraid. Like Shadrach and his
brethren, like Daniel, he trusted in the Lord, who was able to deliver him, or who could take him at once to His glory. He was not
surprised. The place in which he stood, the cause in which he was
engaged, every thing would remind him of his danger. But he
was easily taken. "And when Herod had apprehended him, he
put him in prison." We can imagine the darkness and gloom of
his dungeon, which it is probable was at any rate not more agreeable than those of our own times: we can fancy its damp and
massy walls, on which the sun had never shone; the dark, thick
bars, blocking up the access of the little light which might enter the
small aperture of the window, and admitting a dim ray of despair,
just serving to show the captive there was light and liberty in the
world, but not for him. Chains also were added. " He was bound
with two chains." Nor could there be wanting in such a place
various sounds and notes of terror; there must be many symptoms
and noises of fatal import, declaring that something was in prepara.
tion, something that should not be, was acting in the dungeon of a
tyrant, where cruelty loves to riot. Yet there is none of us doubts
that Peter would sing even here, when left in this dwelling of horror to his own thoughts, "Well, I had rather be here, after all, than
in Herod's place, or Caesar's at the expense of disowning my
Lord." If it had been conceivable that such an option should be
given him-could he have had the offer of reigning over the whole




THE IMPRISONMENT AND DELIVERANCE OF PETER. 417
Roman empire, only for sacrificing his religion, Peter would not
have been at a loss in forming his decision; he would congratulate
himself on his preference of the dungeon, surrounded as he was
with these various forms of tragedy and omen, remembering his
Master's words, " What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole
world and lose his-own soul?"
Can we avoid reflecting here that it must be a very sublime
cause that could enable a man thus degraded and enchained to feel
himself so much higher a character than other men as to look down
with contempt on the throne of the world? Can any one impute
delusion to him? Delusion is very apt to vanish before prisons and
quaternions of soldiers. There is something very much like a
gorgon in the nature of a dungeon, and the prospect of a block to
affright delusion into despair, or petrify it into stupidity.
He was " delivered to four quaternions of soldiers." Now it
would seem obvious that here were either too many or too few. If
they were only required to keep one man in custody, they were too
many. He was secured enough, one would think, under massy
walls, three gates, and two chains, without having sixteen soldiers
to keep him. But perhaps these sixteen soldiers were to fight all
that could be sent to his rescue: then they were too few. Only one
soldier of God came to deliver him, and succeeded; only one
Agent of power and mercy was able to extricate him. All the -arms
of any tyrant against God are too few. There was Sennacherib,
who blasphemed and defied the God of Israel, and who was quite
satisfied in the protection of his 200,000 men, but they were too
few: 185,000 of them, you remember, were destroyed in one night
by one angel. Peter, however, was kept in prison, and "prayer
was made without ceasing of the Church to God for him." Peter
doubtless prayed himself. It is happy that pious men can appeal
from the power of earth to the power of heaven. And they have
felt a peculiarly noble and elevated sensation in the consciousness
of being the one particular cause of bringing the power of God and
the power of His enemies into contact and collision, and being the
single person for whose sake these powers should ccme to action.
Such a sentiment must be the greatest possible elevation that a
Christian, that a creature can feel.
The Church was employed without ceasing in prayer for Peter.
Good men should always remember each other in prayer, and they
will do so especially when exposed to the same peril. There always
has indeed been the most friendship and sympathy among them m
times of persecution. The Church prayed for Peter daily and ho'irly,
27




418                   JOHN  FOSTER.
at this very hour. This very night, they might know, was destined
to be his last; but one sun more was to rise upon him. Herod, no
doubt, indulged his exultation. The hatred which he had felt
against the King of the Jews he cherished against His subjects. As
long as a servant and a follower of the  Son of David remained upon
earth, he felt as if there was a relic, a remnant of claim to the Jew.
ish scepter interfering with his own. The people, too, were anticipating the intended execution: ever since the crucifixion of Jesus,
ever since the imprecation of His blood upon their head and upon
their children's, they seem to have been given up to an infernal
spirit, rejoicing in executions, finding a pure, simple, genuine pleasure and luxury in the sufferings and death of a Christian.
Peter was probably aware of what was determined on for the
morrow, yet he was tranquil, he slept. He "was sleeping between
two soldiers." There are not many who would have slept in such a
situation. The two soldiers had, perhaps, been set to the same duty
on former occasions, but they had never before seen their prisoner
asleep. Other prisoners had implored and bribed them to connive
at their escape, or had struggled with them in despair for their liberty;
but a Christian may sleep any where. A Christian, who is indiffer.
nut whether he sleep or die, will say, " I know my life is forfeited
by nature and by sin; the sentence is gone: forth against it. I aln
only reprieved, and hold it only at the discretion of God. I never
thought life of so much value as to risk my soul for it. When my
Master wants my exertions here no longer, it is for Him to call me
to Himself. It is not for me to fix the time. It is quite consistent
that Herod should be the instrument, that I should fall by the same
sword that slew my friend. I have now nothing to fear; I have
nothing to do. When I was free I could labor, but now I can
sleep."
Peter is now in chains between two soldiers. Can he in an hour
be set free? The Christians can not fight, they had no arms. They
would not: swords were not arguments. Peter had been told so
himself. He had been commanded to put up his sword. If a mob
had assembled to burst open the Bastile and rescue him, he would
most gladly have made his best speech through the grates of his
prison, imploring them to disperse, and not to impeach and weaken
the genuine, rational evidences in behalf of Christianity, by employing force in its support.
How can he escape? The soldiers are faithful. He had no in.
terest at court to procure mercy for him. " How unfortunate for him,"
some of the less hardened Jews might have said, " to have no power.




THE IMPRISONMENT AND DELI.VERANCE OF PETER. 419
ful friend."  "Unhappy Peter," the Jews might have said; "Unhappy Peter," one of the sixteen soldiers might have reflected, "to
have no friend; there is no hope for thee." Peter was not unhappy.
At this very moment he was an object not of compassion but of
envy. "And behold the angel of the Lord came upon him, and a
light shined in the prison." He came in, he came to do something.
How different a place was this prison to Peter and the angel. He
cares not for the thick walls, which he can pierce; and the grim
darkness, which he can illuminate. He is at no loss to find his object, though he be confined in the darkest dungeon of the prison.
He can find the darkest corner where a Christian is hid. It is needless to tell him of the city or the continent; tell him only of the
planet in which the captive is to be rescued, and he will feel an unknown and indescribable sympathy directing him infallibly to the
spot. This angel, perhaps, might have been commissioned to attend
on James, not to deliver, yet to console and support him; he might
be no stranger to these gloomy walls. His coming was silent and
still. There was no noise; there was no mode of entrance, yet he
was there. He came with too great a power to make a noise among
the lumber of matter. It was a firm, compressed, and abstract
energy of power, a very quintessence of soul, that alone could penetrate so quickly. So Jesus Himself came, though He was arrayed
in a body; He entered the room unperceived, where the disciples
were sitting with the doors locked. The angel penetrated with ease;
he displaced nothing; he had but one commission to execute; he
came not to overturn and demolish oi change the order of nature.
" He smote Peter on the side." No man was ever so awakened; he
smote Peter. It was not a violent stroke; it was not such a stroke
as that which he shortly after inflicted upon Herod. It was not so
that he smote the thousands of Sennacherib, or the inhabitants of
Sodom. It was a gentle violence; it might serve for a symbolic emblem of a Christian's death. It will be a soft blow that awakes him;
he will be tranquil; a light will shine around him; he will be delivered from the chains of sin, from the prison of flesh, from the
society of the guilty, from a persecuting world.
Peter awoke; he would gaze on the face that shone upon him:
he would feel like the martyrs who have ascended from the stake to
the skies, and passed from beholding faces marked with cruelty, to
gaze on the benign countenances of the angels and messengers of
God.
" He raised him up." What a strange alteration was this; the
prisoner chained between two soldiers is now held by the hand of an




420                  JOHN FOSTER.
angel. We might now say, "Touch him who dare."  The soldier
of God has ventured into a place sacred to cruelty, the devil, and
Herod; he has taken charge of the captive he had to rescue, and
now touch him who dare. Where is all the courage that all the
soldiers of Herod ever manifested in storming intrenchments, in
charging the enemy? Come forth now, and touch your prisoner,
thus attended, by one single unarmed soldier of heaven. Dare you,
imperious Herod? Dare you, soldiers, appointed here to watch the
victim? Oh no! The power is no ordinary power-it has made no
noise —it reveals itself only by the effect.
" The chains fell from his hands." Lightning might have taken
them off, but it would have been with an immense explosion, and
probably with death to the prisoner-it would have melted the whole
chain; but the angel used no superfluous and ostentatious force; he
only dissolved a few links, and the chains fell off without violence.
The angelic spirits appear to be invested with greater powers than
any we can imagine-they can produce the greatest energy of nature
without the manner of the greatest energy of nature.
This angel, like the other angels of God-like the angel that hurried Lot, appears in a kind of solemn haste. "Arise up quickly,"
he says, "gird thyself." These spirits, when their purpose is effected,
do not stand in wonderment at their own exploits —they take no
breathing time-they want no leisure to rest from the toil, and contemplate the conquest. It is a very ordinary thing to them —it excites no particular surprise or elation in their minds —they do not
think of repose. So should it be with the servants of God on earth.
They should not stand still, wondering at their own doings, or think
they deserve a year's holiday after the labor of one exploit —they
also should be in solemn haste-their time is all too short. Not an
hour should pass after their greatest effort, without preparing for
some new service.
Peter obeyed, but he was amazed. What then must be the
amazement of the Christian, when the angel of final deliverance
shall come, when the change unspeakable passes upon him; when
he shall remove from men to God, from the servants to the Master,
from the tlk of immortality to the conversations of heaven I How
little men know of their best companions and friends, of those sublime beings, whoever they are, who are deputed to accompany them
through life I Whoever they are I- It is strange to speak so of our
most sincere and intimate friends. It will be one of the pleasures
of heaven to know them, to know our guardians and deliverers, tG
see those who sustained us in trouble and temptation, and conducted




THE IMPRISONMENt AND DELIVERANCE OF PETER. 421
us to final triumph I It would be a pain to the conscious delivered,
not to know and thank their deliverers; it would be of no use to
know and see them now, the sight of them would fill us with unspeakable terror. In the other state they will make themselves
known to us; we shall be able to endure their splendor, and converse with them face to face. "And he went out and followed the
angel." This was a different going from what Herod intended,
from what Peter himself had expected, or his friends who were praying for him, as they thought, in vain. They went out through three
gates; and the last gate, the iron gate, opened of itself  How
many wonders in a few minutes, and the last the greatest  Thus
was he set free; there was no detainer against him; he had no
debts to pay, no fees were demanded of him. What a deliverance
was this  to be thus set free once more in the plain of liberty.
What an astonishing impulse and momentum must it give him, to
have been thus retained by one force, and torn away suddenly by
another force I
The angel went a little way with him; conducted " him through
one street," till his amazement had somewhat subsided, and then
departed from him." He had other work to do; he did not wait
to receive homage or offer felicitations; he left him for this time.
Peter had to take a longer journey some other night with his Deliverer; he had the whole length to go from earth to heaven, to travel
the long tract, if it be a long tract, we know not what it is, nor
how, nor where I
What adoring gratitude must Peter feel at this wonderful display
of Divine care and kindness I What veneration must he feel for a
cause whose servants were to be defended by such interpositions I a
cause of which not only angels condescended to be the servants, but to
be the servants of its servants; satisfied with promoting its success,
yet taking no credit for it to themselves. A cause like this, he
would say, deserves all my devotion. We are told of Herod's
miserable and terrible end. The same power which had rescued the
servant of this Divine cause was employed to destroy its adversary.
Can we close without saying, Is that religion here still for which all
this was done; which occasioned all this exhibition of mercy and
terror? Can we help exclaiming, This also shall be my cause?
Can we suffer such a cause to be in the world, without devoting
ourselves instantly and earnestly to its service, and feeling an exalted triumph that such a cause exists in our own time, and condescends to accept of such servants as we? If there be such a
God (suely we must say), if there be a Master, who can thus pro



422                  JOi 1 FOSTER.
tect and deliver His servants when exposed to the most awful perils,
let me be His servant. I know not what difficulties I may have to
encounter, nor in what situation I may need such a friend; but I do
know of death. I know I must be committed to the hand either of
an angel or a devil at the last time. This shall be my cause. Let
me also be surrounded and protected: by angelic powers, and the
force of Divine influence. Thus engaged and supported, for very
shame I shall bestir myself; not one hour shall see me idle, or
thoughtless, or dissipated, or profligate. I shall be ashamed of every
moment in which I am not employed as the angels of heaven are
employed, and by the same God.




DISCOURSE THIRTIETH.
RICHARD WATSON.
NrXT to the name of its distinguished founder, that of Richard
Watson reflects the highest luster upon Wesleyan Methodism.
He was born at Barton, Lincolnshire, February, 1781, and from childhood displayed superior talents. Soon after he was fifteen years old, at
which remarkably early age he began to preach, we find him a regular
local preacher, and at the age of nineteen he published an " Apology for
the People called Methodists." Soon after this, some slight disaffection
led him to unite with the Methodists of the New Connection, with whom
he especially co-operated several years. In 1812 he resumed his station
in the older Wesleyan body; and his history, from this point onward,
affords abundant evidence of the expansion of his mind and heart, and his
extraordinary powers of appealing to the consciences of all classes of
men. His chief appointments were in the English cities and larger
towns, and he every where drew around him the liberal and the intelligent.
But it was as Secretary of the Missionary Society of his denomination that Watson was to act a most important part. To this appointment he brought the vigor of his understanding, and the matured fruits
of his penetrating judgment. From the pulpit, the platform, and the
press, he plead for the sacred cause, with a force of argument, an
originality and beauty of illustration, a sublimity of thought, and a
power of persuasion, rarely, if ever excelled. Consumed by the quenchless ardor of his zeal, his frail constitution prematurely gave way; and
in the year 1833, he peacefully departed this life, repeating, among his
last words, the lines
"A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
On Thy kind arms I fall," etc.
The principal productions which Watson left, are his "Exposition
on Matthew," etc., his " Theological Institutes," "Biblical and Theological Dictionary;" and his Sermons, published in this country in two
volumes. These writings afford sufficient evidence that Watson pob




424                RICHARD WATSON.
sessed an uncommon grasp of mind, which was made effective by the
accumulations of theological literature, and the embellishments of a
chaste and sterling eloquence. The discourse which follows is by common consent allowed to be his masterpiece.
MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.
"What is man, that Thou shouldest magnify him? and that Thou shouldest set Thine
heart upon him?"-Jo, vii. 17.
It is the character of almost all speculative systems of unbelief
that, while they palliate or excuse the moral pravity of our nature,
they depreciate and undervalue that nature itself.
By some of them it is denied that " there is a spirit in man: the
lofty distinction between mind and matter is confounded; and the
organization of a clod is thought sufficient to give birth to reason
and feeling; to all that dignifies the nature of man in comparison
with the capacities of animals.
If a few allow that this frame, disorganized by death, shall live
again by a resurrection, and thus only make death a parenthesis in
our being, the majority take a wider sweep into speculative impiety;
pluck off the crown of immortality which was placed upon the head
of human nature by the Trinity in council; and doom him who in
this life feels that he but begins to live, to live no more. Thus
death is not the mere parenthesis, but the period of life; the volume
closes at the preface; and vice exults at the news, that this portal
of our present existence leads only to airy, empty nothingness.
Another stratagem  of the philosophy which has no faith, is to
persuade us that we are but atoms in the mass of beings; and that
to suppose ourselves noticed by the Great Supreme, either in judgment or in mercy, is an unfounded and presumptuous conceit. With
David, there are persons who lead us out to survey the ample cope
of the firmament, "the moon and the stars" which God "hath ordained," and cry, not like him in adoring wonder at the fact, but in
the spirit of a base and groveling unbelief, "What is man, that'
God " should be mindful of him?"
The word of God stands in illustrious and cheering contrast to
all these chilling and vicious speculations. As to our moral condition, it lays us deep in the dust, and brings down every high imagination. "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REG.R D. 425
wicked." In our unregenerate state, we are represented as capable
of no good, and incapable of no evil. But it never abases our na.
ture itself. In this sacred record, this testimony of God, man is the
head and chief of the system he inhabits, and the image of God. He
is arrayed in immortality, and invested with high and even awful
capacities both of good and evil. Nay, more; low as he may be
reduced by sickness and poverty, his interest in his Maker's regards,
continues unbroken and unforfeited. So in the text, Job, poor, diseased, unpitied, and forsaken, sees the hand, yes, and the heart of
God, in his trouble; and in a strain of devout gratitude exclaims,
"What is man, that Thou shouldest magnify him, and that Thou
shouldest set Thy heart upon him I"
This is an important subject, and just views respecting it are
connected with important practical results. That we may be truly
humbled, we ought indeed fully to enter into those descriptions
which the Scriptures have given us of our fallen condition; to
every one of which we shall find our experience to answer, even
I" as face answers to face in a glass." But we are to remember both
from whence we are fallen, and what we are capable of regaining
by the grace of God; the mercy which He who made us is still dis.
posed to exercise; and the natural powers which it is the object of
that mercy to raise, sanctify, and direct; that, animated by this display of Divine goodness both in creation and redemption, we may
"lay hold on the hope set before us," and be roused to the pursuit
of that "glory, honor, and immortality" which are not only hopeful, but certain to all who seek them.
It is proposed, therefore,
L To offer some illustrations of the doctrine of the text, that
God "magnifies" man, and "sets His heart" upon him.
II. To point out the practical improvement which flows from
facts so established, and so expressive of the Divine benignity.
1. We call your attention to certain considerations illustrative
of the doctrine of the text.
1. God hath " magnified" man by the gift of an intellectual na.
ture.
This circumstance, as illustrative of the Divine goodness, and of
our obligation to grateful affection and a right conduct, is frequently
adverted to in Scripture. He hath " made us to know more than the
beasts of the field, and to be wiser than the fowls of heaven."
" There is a spirit in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth
him understanding." In the process of forming this lower world,
and the system connected with it, various degrees of creating grace,




126                RICHARD WATSON.
so to speak, were dispensed. This was righteous; no cweature has
any claim to being at all, nor to any particular mode or circumstance
of being; and, therefore, the dispensation of existence in various
modes was wholly at the pleasure of the Creator; and none has the
right petulantly to say to Him, "Why am I thus?" It was also
wise being necessary to variety, as variety is necessary to perfection.
We see, therefore, in this vast mass of created beings, unorganized
matter without life; matter organized, as in vegetables, with life, but
without sensation; and, in the inferior animals, with life, sense, and
a portion of knowledge, but without reason. But in man, the scale
rises unspeakably higher; and his endowments are extended beyond
mere animal life and sensation, however delicate and varied, and be.
yond instinct, whatever that mysterious power may be, to a rational
soul, to deep and various mental affections, and to immortality itself.
Here, then, we see him magnified. Amid all the beings which
surround us in this visible universe, he alone is capable of surveying
the whole with thought and reflection; of tracing the Author of the
whole work, and marking the display of His perfections; of yielding
to Him adoration and homage; of sanctifying the varied scene to
moral uses; or, of improving his capacity; and he alone is susceptible of the sentiment of religion. And as God has thus " magnified"
him, He has also " set His heart upon him."  Man is the only visible creature in the heavens, and in the earth, which God, in the
proper sense of the word, could love; for no creature is capable of
being loved but one which is also capable of reciprocal knowledge,
regard, and intercourse. Other things might be approved, and pro.
nounced " very good;" but man alone was loved. He was the only
being with whom the Maker of all could hold intercourse. Him
therefore, He admitted into fellowship; with him He conversed
thought to thought, and made his presence vital, and interiorily
sensible to Him; delighting in him, and teaching him to delight in
God. The same regards He has to us, though fallen; and, by methods
we shall afterward mention, still seeks man as His beloved son, invites him to His forgiving bosom, and makes the human heart His
favored and His chosen temple.
2. God has "magnified" man by the variety, and the superior
nature of the pleasures of which He has made him capable.
His are the pleasures of contemplation. These the inferior ammals have not. No subjects but such as are urged upon them by
present necessity engage their thoughts. Their view of present
things is also limited. The most splendid scenes of nature are
thrown around them without arousing attention, or awakening taste,




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REG A oi. 427
anu the power of comparison. The past would seem to be a perfect
blank to them; the future derives no light from the analogies which
observation and experience furnish to man, and by which its gloom
is somewhat broken. Moral subjects and moral actions, which furnish to us so inexhaustible a source of thought, are to them unknown;
nor is it indicated by any of the phenomena which those that approach nearest to intellectual character exhibit, that the cause of any
thing whatever is with them a matter of the least curiosity. All
these are the subjects of human contemplation. As far as we can
perceive, they are also inexhaustible; and the powers which we
may apply to them are capable of unmeasurable enlargement. From
this wondrous capacity arises a pleasure as copious as it is rich and
invigorating, whenever the choice of subjects is worthy, and our
train of thinking well laid. The deep and continued abstractions of
profound genius, the ardor and intensity of the poet, the patient
labor of the inventor of useful or curious machines, the command
which books and conversation exercise over intellectual men, prove
the vigor of the pleasure which arises from well-directed mental
exercises; and in all this the benevolence of God is affectingly
manifested. He has " taught us to know," and has opened to us the
felicity of knowing; a felicity to which the pleasures of sense, though
they also are proofs of His benevolence, bear no comparison either
in loftiness or duration. In the one we have a pleasure in common
with all animal natures; in the other we share the felicities of angels,
and the blessedness of God Himself.
His are the pleasures of devotion. And can it be rationally denied that devotion is the source of even a still higher pleasure than
knowledge? Does it arise from awe and reverence of the Divine
Majesty?  If a sense of our reconciliation to God accompany it, i
is the awe of bending and silent seraphs, which gives depth and rich
ness to the joys of the spirit, but is not inconsistent with them. Does
it express itself in praise for mercies? It is gratitude directed to
the highest Benefactor, and called into liveliest exercise by the magnificence of His mercies; and gratitude in a pleasurable emotion, and
the more so as it is more intense. Thus it affected the mind of David:
"How precious also are Thy thoughts unto me, 0 God "  Is the
devotion private? Then intercourse with God is the intercourse of
friendship, rendered more tender and confiding by a filial confidence,
every burden is discharged, every wish freely expressed, and the
soul's peace is fed and constantly guarded by a confidential correspondence. Does the devotional principle seek expression in the
courts of the house of our God?  New circumstances are added to




428                RICHARt WATSON.
deepen the impression, and enlarge the joy. With " a multituden of
consentaneous hearts we "keep holiday;" with them we joy to
acknowledge and proclaim the God we love before a forgetful
world; we have a sense of delightful communion with the Church
on earth, wherever its members are found, and with the redeemed
and angelic throngs in heaven. The calm Sabbath is at once " a day
honorable and full of delights," and a pleasing emblem of cessation
from earthly cares, and of those exclusive, hallowed, and spiritual
employments which are reserved for the spirits of just men made
perfect.
His are the pleasures of sympathy and benevolence; and to man
they are peculiar. No inferior nature, however near its apparent
approach to him, is capable of them. It is a source of enjoyment,
paradoxical as it may appear on a superficial view, to feel that we
can " weep with them that weep," and thus ally ourselves to the common nature, and the common lot, of man. Even our most painful
sympathies for others prepare the heart to receive direct consolation
itself by the sensibility from which they flow, and which they call
into exercise, and preserve susceptible. The spring of benevolence
is thus opened; the stream flows whenever its refreshment can be
imparted; and from thence arises the satisfaction of doing good to
the bodies and to the souls of men; the joy of instructing the ignorant. of recovering the lost, of guarding the feeble, of protecting the
innocent, and of giving impulse to institutions of usefulness, and
vigor to great plans for the benefit of nations, and the whole race
of man itself.
His are the pleasures of hope. These, too, are not only His in a
more high and excellent sense, but they are His exclusively. Nothing but man looks beyond the present, and the glow of hope was
reserved to warm his bosom alone. How great is the exuberance of
tne Divine goodness to us in this respect I Many of the blessings
which God hath designed for us are known, and by anticipation they
are tasted beforehand, and are tblis many times enjoyed. If we are
the objects of His favor, the futule is ever brightening to the eye of
meditation. Our steps shall be guided by an infallible counsel; our
good a-Li our evil shall be distributed with kind and wise parental
regard; firmness supplied by Him shall raise us above our trials,
victory crown our conflicts. Another world is enlightened by its
own peculiar glories, and presents the glorified body, the spirit in
immediate union with God, the absence of all evil, and the consummation of all the good enjoyed in the present life. And though
there are objects of hope which are unknown, because "it dotb




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.  429
not yet appear what we shall be," yet this only heightens the emo.
tion; the good toward which it reaches is unbounded and ineffable;
it surpasses thought, and escapes the combining power of the imagination itself; it is unknown because it transcends, not because it is
unreal; and this indefinite good embodies itself, in order that it may
be seized by hope in some form of expression as indefinite as itself,
but which suggests the loftiest, deepest, amplest thoughts of a mys.
terious glory and blessedness: " It doth not appear what we shall
be;" but " we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is."
These observations afford a sufficient answer to those who would
degrade man; shame him out of his confidence in his Maker, by instituting a comparison between him and the vastness of inanimate
nature, and thus endeavor to overwhelm him by a sense of his individual insignificance. But, extend the limits of the material universe
as you may, make every star a sun, and every sun the center of an
expansive system of secondary luminaries, sweeping the immeasurable spaces with their orbits, what is there in all this parade and
pomp of amplification to lower, in the smallest possible degree, the
sentiment of the text, and to weaken its delightful and reviving impression upon our minds? This universe of material things can not
think; no sensation thrills through any part of it, it is totally
unconscious of itself. The sun knows not his own splendor, nor
the lightnings their force, nor the air its refreshing qualities. The
earthly world has no communion with God, nor God with it. It
yields to His hand without perception; it obeys without a principle
of choice. It was not made for its own sake, but for the sake of that
very being who can think, and feel, and adore; the sun to warm,
the earth to sustain and feed, the air to refresh him; it has beauty
for his eye, and music for his ear, and grandeur to elevate and. fill
his spirit, and curious contrivances and phenomena of power and
majesty, to lead his thoughts to the wondrous Artificer, and to prostrate his affections in His presence, under the weight of joy and awe.
Let infidelity contemptuously display her planets, and their spacious
sweeps; we show the Being who enumerates the objects with which
they are filled, marks their wondrous concatenation, and their series
of secondary causes and effects, exults in their light, meditates in
their darkness, measures their orbits, tracks them in their courses,
connects them all with God their Maker, makes them subservient to
morals, religion, devotion, hope, and confidence, and takes up, at
every new discovery, the song of the morning stars-the angel witnesses of the birth of material nature, who sang together when the
laying of the foundations of the earth presented a new and hereto.




430                RICHARD  WATSON.
fore unconceived manifestation of the wisdom, power, and bountm ot
the Godhead. Which, we ask, is the greater —the single being,
whether man or angel, who sees, and knows, and admires, and is
instructed by this dread magnificence of nature, or that nature itself,
which knows neither that it is magnificent, nor that it exists at all?
The argument is turned upon the objector, and the greatness of
nature only proves the greatness of man.
And suppose this vast assemblage of worlds to be inhabited by
beings as rational as ourselves, what does this avail to prove us
" insects" and " reptiles?"-the rank which the ambition of infidelity
would assign to man. It is asked, indeed, What are we among so
many? The answer is, Just what we should be if we existed alone,
the same rational, sentient, improvable, immortal beings whom God
has "magnified," and on whom " He has set His heart."  Numbers
can have no tendency to lower the individual, nor many races of
spiritual beings to lower each separate race. Holiness is not less
valuable to me as the source of peace, and hope, and confidence,
because millions are holy; nor sin less destructive and painful, if
millions have caught the infection. Is a father's love, or a mother's
tenderness diminished because the family is numerous?  And yet
some such monstrous disposition must be assumed before the conclusions of this heartless, godless, and hopeless philosophy could be
established.
In the rank, then, and super.eminence of man, we may justly say,
that "the gentleness of God hath made him great;" and His delight
in him is such that He hath made him deathless. Every material
object changes; even animals, which have a portion of mind die;
"' The spirit of the beast goeth downward," but the spirit of man
"goeth upward" to Him that made it, to rest in His bosom, and to
bide in His presence. How great a proof is immortality that God
"b hath set His heart" upon us I He would not lose us by the extinction of our being; and to that spirit which God hath made, and from
which He will never withdraw the communion of His presence and
love, the very words may be applied which so strikingly character.
ize His own immortality-" These shall perish, but Thou remainest;
and these all shall wax old, an doth a garment; and as a vesture
shalt Thou change them, and they shall be changed: but Thou art
the same, and Thy years shall have no end."
3. The text receives its m(yst striking illustration from the conduct
of God to man considered as a sinner. If under this character we
have still been loved; if still, notwithstanding ingratitude and rebel] ion
we are loved, then. in a most emphatic sense, in a sense which we




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.  431
can not adequately conceive or express, God hath " set His heart"
upon us.
We must not hide it from you, that all those capacities and
endowments of a spiritual and immortal nature to which we have just
adverted, may become the bane and curse of all, and have actually
become a terrible inheritance to many. A rational nature is capable
of evil, and, being liable to evil, is liable to punishment. We may
speculate on the origin of evil, on moral liberty, necessity, and other
similar subjects as we may, but the awful fact remains the same-we
are thus liable. This seems to arise out of our freedom of choice,
without which our nature must have been constituted essentially
different, and, it would seem also, greatly inferior. No rational
creature perishes but by his own fault; but he may perish. As to
man the case is determined, the line has been passed; he has fallen,
he is under wrath, every mouth is stopped, and the whole world is
become guilty before God. Here, then, the doctrine of the text
comes forth in all its tenderness. We have two facts before us: thee
human race has become liable to the penalty of sin, to all the miseries which a great and an immortal nature can suffer, and yet, because
God hath " set His heart" upon him, the whole of this terrible pun.
ishment may be remitted, and a restoration to grace and felicity be
attained. How is this? Mark the means of our reconciliation to
God, and mark the result, "and at each step let higher wonder rise."
Reflect upon the means.
The great agent of our recovery was the eternal Son of God, who
voluntarily became the representative of the whole sinning race, was
incarnated, humbled to a low and despised condition, suffered in our
stead intolerable torments, and died the universal sacrifice and atonement for the sins of men. So God " set His heart" upon man, that
for our rescue He spared not His own Son. " Dear" as He was to
Him, He spared Him not. "Dear" in His humanity, for it was
unstained with the original taint of fallen human nature, and through
life was sanctified to God in a course of perfect and cheerful obedience: "dear," for the generous manner in which that human
nature consented, with the Divine, to an obedience which was to
extend to death, "even the death of the cross:" " dear," as the temple
of the Divine nature, of the second Person of the Godhead, and that
Person infinitely dear as "His own," " His proper Son," " the Son
of His love;" yet He "spared" Him not. "It" even "pleased the
Father to bruise Him, and put Him to grief." What words are
these I The love of God to man surmounted even that natural anxiety to preserve an object so beloved as His own Son from ignominy




482                RICHARD WATSON.
and grief, and deep and awful suffering; the innocent was given for
the guilty, and the chastisement of our peace was laid upon Him,
that by His stripes we might be healed. "So God loved the world,"
and so in that hour of darkness He set His love on man. "Herein,n"
says St. John, " is love." Where shall we go for manifestations of
the tenderness, the sympathy, the benignity of God? The philoso.
pher of this world leads us to nature, its benevolent final causes,
and kind contrivances to increase the sum of animal happiness, and
there he stops-with half his demonstration I But the Apostle leads
us to the gift bestowed by the Father for the sake of the recovery of
man's intellectual and moral nature, and to the cross endured by the
Son, on this high behalf. Go to the heavens, which canopy man
with grandeur, cheer his steps with successive light, and mark his
festivals by their chronology; go to- the atmosphere which invigorates his spirits, and is to him the breath of life: go to the smiling
fields, decked with verdure for his eye, and covered with fruit for
his sustenance; go to every scene which spreads beauty before his
gaze, which is made harmoniously vocal to his ear, which fills and
delights the imagination by its glow, or by its greatness; we travel
with you, we admire with you, we feel and enjoy with you, we adore
with you, but we stay not with you. We hasten onward in search
of a demonstration more convincing that " God is love," and we rest
not till we press into the strange, the mournful, the joyful scenes of
Calvary, and amid the throng of invisible and astonished angels,
weeping disciples, and the mocking multitude, under the arch of the
darkened heaven, and with earth trembling beneath our feet, we
gaze upon the meek, the resigned, the fainting Sufferer, and exclaim
" Herein is love" —herein, and nowhere else is it so affectingly, so
unequivocally demonstrated-" not that we loved God, but that God
loved us, and sent His Son to be the propitiation of our sins."
Mark the result.
The great consequence of the propitiatory death of Christ is, that
God is so reconciled as to offer pardon and eternal life to all mankind. The whole race is taken into a new relation to God, a relation
of mercy. " God is in Christ, reconciling the world unto Himself."
The whole Trinity is employed in this work of grace-in offering
and dispensing mercy, and grace, and salvation; in illuminating,
sealing, and sanctifying; in comforting, aiding, and counseling' and
a most sweet and harmonious agreement exists between Father, Son,
and Holy Ghost, to "set their heart" on man, to restore him to their
blessed communion, and to fit him for the eternal presence of their
ineffable glory.




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.  433
4. This being the new relation in which we stand to God
"through the death of His Son," let us finally, on this part of the
subject, consider the means by which His gracious purpose of " magnifying man," by raising him out of his fallen condition, is pursued
and effected.
(1.) He has, with the kindest regard for our higher interests,
attached emptiness to worldly good, and misery to vice.
This explains the suffering which is in the world. Who can
solve the problem, that man not yet finally condemned, not yet
placed in the state required by an exact and extreme justice, should
yet be in a suffering condition! Not the " wise of this world." It
has puzzled every sage in every age of time, and led to an endless
variety of speculations and corrupt superstitions.  But our text
solves it. Why is there emptiness in worldly good? Because God
would " magnify" man, and raise him from low pursuits, He has
made all on earth vain and unsubstantial. Because He " sets His
heart" upon him, He would deliver him from vice, and has therefore
made every evil passion, temper, and appetite the source of bitterest
misery. Had He been careless of our welfare, could " His heart"
have consented to our ruin, He would have left us, like the brute,
to be satisfied with our pleasure, nor would any complaining have
been heard in the rich pasture. Had not the pain of sin been intended as a remedy, it would have been accompanied with utter despair, or never have been felt; the sting would have lain inert and
powerless under the pressure, till another world should awaken it
from its torpor, and envenom it with a poison for which there shall
be no healing.
(2.) In pursuance of the same design of munificent goodness, it
has pleased God to establish a constant connection between our discipline and correction, between His providential dispensations and
moral ends. Man is placed under rule; but the end proposed is the
exercise of grace and mercy.
Are we prosperous?  "The goodness of God leadeth to repentance." Are we afflicted? See the end: " What is man, that Thou
shouldest magnify him; that Thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?" "Lo, all these things worketh
God oftentimes with man, that He may keep back his soul from the
pit."
(3.) For the same reason, and that He may show that He bath
"set His heart" upon man, He hath opened His ears to our prayers,
anl invites them both by commands and promises; nor does a
28




434                RICHARD WATSON.
prayer ascend from the heart of a human creature which He does
not regard.
Does oppression wring from the laboring and overcharged heart
of any of His creatures the agonizing appeal to Heaven?  " I have
heard, I have heard," is His response to Israel, groaning under
Egyptian taskmasters. Does it ascend from the widow and the
orphan? " A Father of the fatherless, and a Judge of the widow,
is God in His holy habitation."
Is prayer offered when men are pressed on every side with
worldly calamities and dangers? How many striking instances of
kind regard to prayer in such circumstances are furnished to us in
Psalm cvii! See a company of travelers fainting amid a boundless
expanse of burning sand in the Eastern desert: " Hungry and thirsty,
their souls fainted within them; then they cried unto:the Lord in
their trouble, and He heard them, and He delivered them out of
their distresses, and He led them forth by a right way." Behold a
number of captives " sitting in darkness, being bound in affliction
and iron." Could language draw the color of their lot more deeply?
But they too " cry unto the Lord in their trouble;".and when " they
fell down, and there was none to help, He saved them out of their
distresses; He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of
death, and brake their bonds in sunder."
Behold the afflicted: " Their soul abhorreth all manner of meat,
and they draw near to the gates of death; then they cry unto the
Lord, and He saveth them; He sent His word, and healed them, and
delivered them from their destructions."
See the affrighted mariners in a storm at sea: ", They mount up
to the heaven, they go down again to the depths, their soul is melted
because of trouble: they cry unto the Lord in their trouble, and He
bringeth them out of their distresses; He maketh the storm a calm,
so that the waves thereof are still: then are they glad, because they
be quiet; so He bringeth them into their desired haven." Well
may we say, at such instances of the Divine regard to the voice of
man, "0 that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for
His wonderful works to the children of men 1"
But His regard to the prayer of man, on whom He has " set His
heart," is not confined to deliverance from outward calamities, and
the supply of worldly blessings. Let penitent man approach Him,
laden as he may be with the guilt of his offenses, conscious of his
entire unworthiness, and the unworthiness of all his services, acknowledging his desert of punishment, but yet pleading the atone.
ment of his Saviour, laying hold upon the horns of the altar of His




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD. 435
3ross, smiting upon his breast, and saying, " God be merciful to me
a sinner!"  " Will He plead against him with His great power?
No; but He will put strength in him."  " He will remember His
covenant;" He will pass by, and proclaim His name, " The Lord,
merciful and gracious;" and the broken-hearted, humble, and believing man, healed, and cheered, and comforted in his God, " shall go
down to his house justified."  And, with respect to the covenanted
right of prayer, how large is the grant to believers —" All are yours,
and ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's I" " Be careful for nothing:
but in every thing let your requests be made known unto God."
" Whatsoever you ask in My name, the Father will do it for you."
Such is another of those wondrous means by which the redeeming
purpose is carried into effect; God "sets His heart" on man to
"'magnify him;" and in order to this He opens to him His throne
of grace, He listens to the expression of all his wants, He gives
him access to His own fullness of grace and glory, and " fulfills all
his petitions."
(4.) But to bring men to feel their own wants, and to influence
them by the displays of His " abundant mercy," He sends forth His
Gospel, accompanied with His quickening Spirit, thus to render it
what in the mere letter it could not be, "the Word of life," and the
"Gospel of salvation." Thus God is ever speaking to man by His
Word, whether written or preached, according to His institution and
appointment; and, next to the gift of His Son, can we have a greater
proof that He hath " set His heart" upon us? It is not enough to
satisfy His compassion that the means, the apparatus of our salvation, so to speak, is prepared; we see Him carrying it into effect by
a gracious application. He warns, that He may deter us from evil;
presses His invitations, that we may be " compelled to come in;"
and seeks, that He may save. What an illustration of the kindness
of God our Saviour is the written and the preached Gospel I It is
the voice of God ever calling His creature to return to Him, assuring him of acceptance, exhibiting the highest blessings of grace and
sanctity, and displaying the "eternal weight of glory."  What va.
riety of examples have we in that word to instruct in abstract truth
by a variety of action I What variety of exquisite and impressive
style I What majesty and terror I What gentleness and condescension   And the obvious final cause of the whole is, that by pardon,
adoption, sanctification, and " instruction in righteousness," every
man may be " magnified" by being made " a man of God, perfectly
and thoroughly furnished to every good work." Such, then, is
man; and thus has God " set His heart" upon him.




4386               RICHARD WATS3ON
Having shown what man is, according to the scriptural account,
and how God hath " magnified " him, we proposed,
II. To point out the practical improvement which flows from
facts so established, and so illustrative of the Divine benignity.
We are taught the folly and voluntary degradation of the greater
part of the unhappy race of mankind. God hath " set his heart"
upon them; but they set not their heart upon God, and add to their
sin the guilt of the deepest ingratitude. " Ye that forget God," is
their sad, but accurate description: for how obviously true is the
charge  His works, magnificent and numerous and curious as they
are, bring him not to mind; nor their daily mercies received from
him; nor their occasional corrections. In the world which God hath
made and filled with his glory, man is " without God;" and in the
world which he hath redeemed and filled with the sound of the glad
tidings, he is "without Christ."  His thoughts are not won by
the wisdom of the redeeming mystery; nor his affections by its
display of love ineffable and boundless. He has, as we have seen,
the greatest capacities of nature; capacities, to the improvement of
which no bound can be set; and he wholly occupies them in trifles.
The greatest good is set before him, the pardon of sin, the favor of
God, and the renewal of his nature; but he has " no heart to it;"
and the invitation of his Saviour is disregarded, because his taste is
vitiated, and he neither " discerns " nor affects " the things of God."
They open to him the highest pleasures, because they secure the manifestation of the Divine favor to the heart, the presence of the Holy
Spirit Himself as "the Comforter," and access to God in prayer, and
solemn transporting meditation; but he prefers vain society, vain
shows, vain converse, and animal gratifications. Even eternal life,
with all its nobleness and grandeur of prospect, awakens no desire,
and excites to no effort. "Lord, what" then "is man, that Thou
art " still "mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou visitest
him I" Why art Thou not wearied with his perverseness, his delays,
his insensibility? 0 infinite forbearance and patience   Still Thou
settest Thine heart upon him; still Thou sayest, "H tow shall I give
thee up?" Still Thine inviting voice, " Return unto Me, and I will
return unto you, saith the Lord," pursues him through all his wanderings from Thee. Still Thou triest every kind and persuasive art,
and every monitory correction, to subdue his will, and regain his
alienated heart; intent only upon his rescue from danger, which he
himself seeks in the madness of his heart, and in the error of his
ways. We need nothing more to heighten the glory of Thy grace,
and nothing but our own insensibility to mark the depth of our own




MAN MAGNIFIED  BY THE DIVINE RFGARD.  437
delravity. "To abhor ourselves as in dust and ashes," is the first
lesson we are taught by these facts; to return to God with weeping
and with supplication; and to be ashamed and confounded even
"in the day when he is pacified toward us for all that we have done."
2. The subject affords an instructive test of our religious pretensions.
What is religion? It is that by which almighty God, in his in.
finite goodness, magnifies man, morally magnifies man, and makes
him truly great.
(1.) By the noble and elevating knowledge which it imparts. Is
this the effect with us? Do we rest in the barren and ill-understood
generalities of doctrine, looking into the perfect law of liberty, as a
man beholding his natural face in a glass, and going away, and forgetting what manner of person he is; or do we " continue therein?"
Do we "meditate on these things?"  Are we led by a hallowed
euriosity to inquire " what is that good, and perfect, and acceptable
will of God;" and knowing it, do we often return to feed upon this
truth in holy musings? Are these the subjects to which our spirits
fly with affectionate ardor from the little vanities of life? Do we
catch their spirit? Do we take the impress of their sanctity?
(2.) True religion makes great by the relation it gives us to God,
the relations of "sons."  Is this our character? Have we so "be.
lieved on His name," that we can claim this " power," right, privilege,
"to become the sons of God?" And do we wear in our spirits this
abiding testimony, that we are," the children of God?"
(3.) By the restoration of our nature to the Divine image. Are
we thus magnified? Has the image of the earthly passed away, and
given place to the new, the heavenly impress? Look into your
hearts: are the characters of the new man there visible and distinct?
Look into the course and tenor of your life: does the fullness of the
renewed principle pour its sanctity and odor through your meek and
healing speech, through your righteous and beneficent actions?
(4.) By the new and elevated ends for which it teaches us to live.
How low are the objects and pursuits of worldly men I For, gild
and adorn and hide them as they please; let them give to trifling
the air of business, and to selfishness the aspect of public good, and
regard to the social benefit of others; the whole may be resolved
into the Epicurean maxim, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we
die;" a selfish and temporary gratification and interest is the sole
epitome. But the ends of living proposed in our religion, and
which are seriously kept in view by every true Christian, are of a
kind as ennobling as those of worldly men are debasing and de.




438                 RICHARD  WATSON.
structive; the approbation of God; regard to his will as our only
rule in all things; living not for ourselves but for others; and the
final acceptance of our persons, in." the day of his appearing." By
these ends true religion magnifies man; but have they caught our
eye, and do they fix our undeviating regards?
(5.) It magnifies him, by its singular principles of faith and love.
By its faith; which is not the mere assent of the judgment, but the
trust of the heart. It is the evidence of unseen things; that which
makes visible the invisible God, as Witness, Ruler, Judge and Saviour, "near at hand, and not afar off;" so that we learn to walk
with God, and to fear nothing but Him, and to hope in nothing but
in Him. It is that which unvails too the invisible world, as well as
the invisible God, and teaches man to try all present things by measures taken from eternity, and to refer all actions to their fruits and effects. By love; as singular a principle, and as peculiar to Christianity as faith: for it is not a. philosophical approbation; it is not admiration of God merely, nor esteem for His perfect and holy character; but it is ardent attachment to Him as the supreme Excellence;
it is an infinite gratitude to Him as to an infinite Benefactor; it is
delight and joy in Him as our Father; it is the principle which
leads to intercourse and communion with God through the Holy
Ghost, and which sensibly unites every soul, made vital by regenerating grace, with the vital influence of God. It is not necessary to
stay to point out what is so obvious, that such principles must, wherever they vigorously exist, be the source of great and high thoughts,
purposes, affections, powers, and enjoyments. But do these magni.
fying principles exist, and operate, and abide in you?
These are all points of serious and most important inquiry; for
if the goodness of God is expressed in his gracious purpose to mag
nify us by the instrumentality of religion, and we are unexalted and
unrenewed, his kindness has hitherto been frustrated by our own
obstinacy and resistance. Art thou, then, who now readest this
declaration, "that God has magnified man, and has set His heart
upon him," in the midst of a religious system where all is magnifi.
cence of purpose, mean and groveling still? Is thy spirit dark
amid this splendor? dead, though often the voice of the Son of
God has invited thee to live? in bondage, when thou mightest walk
in liberty from sin? a slave, when thou art called to be a son?
earthly in thine affections, when the spiritual blessings in heavenly
places in Christ Jesus are arranged and displayed to excite desire
and effort? What "part or lot hast thou in this matter?" Boast
not of the truth of the Gospel; for, the light by which thou walkest




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.  439
not, only discovers the more clearly that thou art " ignorant and out of
the way;" a base worldling with a Christian's name; a miserable self
deceiver, taking words for things, and saying unto Christ, " Lord,
Lord," without one operative principle of abiding faith, love, and
obedience. Take away the vail of thy religious profession, and see
and feel that thou art poor, and miserable, and blind, and naked;
and, withal, that thou hast been so besotted by the deceitfulness of
the world, the flesh, and the devil, as to have said to this moment,
"I am rich and increased in goods, and have need of nothing." Yet
if thou awakest fully to thy danger, despair not. Upon thee, even
thee, false as well as sinful as thou hast been-false to thyself, false
to the Church, false to Christ-God hath "set his heart."  He
remembereth that thou art man, an immortal man, one whose sins
were laid upon Him who was " delivered for thy offenses, and raised
again for thy justification;" and He wills not that thou shouldest
perish. His hand is upon thee for mercy, and not for judgment:
suffer him to raise thee, to " set thee on high," to put thee among
the princes of His people, to make thee great in His salvation. Hear
His voice with thy inmost soul, calling thee to " glory, honor, and
immortality;" " to-day " hear it, and " harden not thy heart."
3. We are taught by our subject to form a proper estimate of our
fellow men, and of our obligations to promote their spiritual and
eternal benefit.
Our text asks, " What is man?" And if the answer required
were the actual moral condition of mankind, how sad a reply must
be given! What are the majority of professing Christian men?
They have a " form of godliness," but deny its power, or live in
utter disregard of it. "This is their condemnation," their peculiar
and aggravated condemnation, " that light has come into the world 
but they love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are
evil."  What are Jewish men?  "Blindness has happened unto
Israel;" the vail is upon their hearts; they search the Scriptures, but
their prejudices have taken away;" the key of knowledge," and they
find not Him of whom the law and the prophets are full. They are
uncovenanted, " desolate, and forsaken." What are Mohammedan
men, of whom many millions are found in the earth?  Believers in
an impostor, and imbruted by a religion which makes sensuality its
noblest reward, and its heaven a brothel. What are the countless
multitudes of pagan men?  "' A deceived heart hath turned them
aside; they feed on ashes; nor is their understanding in them to deliver their soul, or to say, Is there not a lie in my right hand?"
They are "without God, without Christ, without hope," without




440                RICHARD WATSON.
morals, and, as far as human observation has gone, in the most
thickly peopled parts of those wretched regions where "Satan has
his seat," "there is none righteous, no, not one I" How fearful and
heart-rending an answer is this to give to such a question!
But if, when we ask, "What is man?" the answer required
should respect the capacity of man, under the influence of the grace
of God, to rise from this state of wretchedness and pollution, it has
been already given; and there is not one among these deluded millions, whether they dwell in the uttermost parts of the earth, or
surround us in our daily intercourse with society; whether they are
dark by being plunged in surrounding darkness, or dark by a willful exclusion of surrounding light; but may be brought to the
knowledge and love of God our Saviour. The conscience which
guilt darkens and disturbs may be sprinkled by the blood of Jesus;
the heart which swells and rankles with every evil passion, may become all purity, tenderness, and love; and the body, the temple of
the Holy Ghost. Those who have no hope may fly for refuge to
the hope set before them; and they who wander in innumerable
paths of destructive error, like sheep going astray, may return " to
the Shepherd and Bishop of their souls."
Here then, on one hand, is a being of infinite capacity and value,
in an actual condition of depravity and danger; and, on the other,
the possibility of his being raised into a holy and felicitous condition; and precisely as these two views of the case of man affect us,
will be our conduct. If we rightly judge, and rightly feel, one of
these views will excite our pity, the other will inspire a generous
hope; and pity and hope, as they are both active and influential
principles, must, if they are really excited, awaken us to the mag,
nitude of the work of human salvation, and call forth in this great
cause an unwearied effort. These considerations unfold the spring
of the activity and devotion of the first ministers of Christ, and of
the first Churches, who so readily co-operated with them. "The
love of Christ constrains us, because we thus judge, that if one died
for all, then were all dead I" They argued the danger of man from
the means taken to save him; and they knew that the means had
not failed of their effect, but that they who were "dead" might
"live," because Christ had " died" for this very purpose. They explain the reason for which true Christians, in all ages, have been
animated with restless desires and anxieties to benefit mankind, and
why the philosophers of this world have been, and still are, so cold
to human welfare. " What is man" in their systems, that he should
awaken a care, or demand an effort or a sacrifice? He is a worm




MAN MAGNIFIED BY THE DIVINE REGARD.  441
of the earth, an insect of larger growth; let him perish-a moth is
crushed, and the system goes on. But the sentiments in the text
awaken other feelings. That God has " set His heart" on man, is
the most powerful reason why we should set our hearts upon Him;
and because He hath so loved us, how forcibly must we feel it that
we ought to love one another I For " what is man" in the Christian
system?  Not a being to be neglected. All that respects him is
awfully great; and renders him a prize worth the most arduous contest. He is the image of God in ruins; but still accountable for his
actions. He must be judged; he may perish, and without help will
perish; and what is perishing, when a deathless nature is the subject I These are the thoughts which unlock the affections, and give
to zeal its energy. " Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we persuade
men."  And we know, too, "the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ;
that he who was rich," for the sake of all the blind and infatuated
sinful men about us, and in our world, "became poor, that they
through His poverty might be made rich;" that He is "rich to all
that call upon Him," has no "respect of person," and by us has
commanded His truth to be dispersed, and His grace to be distributed. Let these views more deeply influence us, that we may never
loiter in the work assigned to each of us, if we are truly recovered
to God ourselves-that of " strengthening our brethren."  On them
who are perishing for lack of knowledge, never can we too earnestly,
and affectionately, and yearningly "set our hearts."  If you convert a sinner from the error of his ways, you "save a soul from
death;" and can a more powerful motive be urged? You place
another child in the family of God; you open a mind to knowledge
ever enlarging, and to feelings which shall yield a felicity more
noble and sanctifying throughout eternity. You advance the rap.
ture of angels; for "there is joy in heaven over one sinner that
repenteth." You heighten the joy of your Lord Himself; for "He
sees of the travail of His soul, and is satisfied." Happy will it be
when this true estimate of man shall be taken by the universal
Church of Christ. Its torpor will be shaken off, its disputes and
bickerings silenced, and every thought be absorbed, and every energy put forth, in the solemn work of saving souls from death. 0
Thou who hast set Thine heart upon man, inspire us with some
larger portion of Thine own boundless and tender charity I
4. Lastly, we see in our subject a reason for the exercise of a
constant and cheerful trust in God.
After such demonstrations of His love to us, our limited expectatious from His mercy, and our frequent doubts, may justly be




442                RICHARD WATSON.
reproved. He delighted to make us what we are, and He hasted to
rescue us when sin had made the very greatness and glory of our
nature our curse and bane; and having given us His Son, will He
not "with Him also freely give us all things?" Let us then ilrmly
trust in the Lord. His eyes "run to and fro in the earth, that He
may show Himself strong in behalf of them that fear Him." His
ears are open to our prayers; and His promises of supply are ample
as our wants. His proper work, as " the Captain of our salvation,"
is, to bring us as a part of His many sons to glory. If He had not
been more concerned for us than we for ourselves, we had never
known His quickening influence, nor His saving power; and "if,
when we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of
His Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by His
life." This is our hope and joy-the life of Jesus. He ever liveth
to make intercession for us; and because He lives, we shall also.
He has made it His very office to save us; He sets His heart upon
us through every stage of our journey; and never so intensely as in
the hour of danger and difficulty.  Lift up, then, the hands which
hang down, and confirm the feeble knees. The Divine dispensaions of creation, providence, and grace unite to magnify us: and
the glorious purpose shall not close at death; it shall go on till mortality is swallowed up of life, and shall be completed only when
eternity has fulfilled its rounds, and wan can receive, and infinite
fullness can bestow, no more.




Qua
- -
to
#-..0







THE GERMAN PULPIT.
FEw parts of the world present so much to interest the intelligent
Christian mind as the land of Luther and the Reformation. Whether
considered in its past or its present, in reference to itself only, or its actual and prospective influence upon all Europe and our own country,
Germany can not but be regarded with profound interest. Conspicuous
in its historic career, and its existing agencies of good, stands the
PuLPrT.
In glancing at the history of the German pulpit, we must go back to
tLe beginning of the Reformation. Indeed, to do full justice, we were
obliged to pass that remote point, and include in our view the teachers
of the true faith, who wrought mightily before Luther put his hand to
the great work. Such men were Ruysbroek, Tauler and Suso of the
Mystics; Gerard Groot, Florentius, Zerbolt and Thomas A Kempis of
the Brethren of the Life in Common; and Wyttenbach, and Stau.
pitz, and John of Goch, and John of Wesel the " chief of the Reformers
before the Reformation." These men, and a small number of others of a
kindred spirit, had scattered far and wide the seeds of truth which had
already begun to germinate, and whose fruits were to add to the glorious
harvest which Luther was destined to reap. But the German pulpit
first fairly looms into view at the dawn of the Reformation.
In no event is the providence of God more wondrously displayed than
in the origin and progress of those efforts which were to disenthrall
the nations. The profuse munificence of Leo X. had exhausted the
papal treasury. To replenish it the complete remission of sins, whether
past, or present, or future, was proclaimed to all who could pay the
stipulated sum. All morality was relaxed, all government was weakened; and even the lives of those who proclaimed these indulgences and
magnified their value, were marked by shameless impudence and low
debauchery.
Princes were indignant at the loss of the wealth of their subjects to
increase the magnificence of the sovereign pontiff and men of intelligence
and reflection deplored the ignorance and superstition of the age, and
hoped for the rising of a better day.
In an obscure corner of the monastry at Erfuth, where Luther is




446                THE GERMAN  PULPIT.
troubled in mind and groping in spiritual darkness, there lies a neglected
copy of the Sacred Scriptures. To this strange book his attention is
directed; and he pores over it with all the eagerness and perseverance
which belong to his character. His mind is partially enlightened, and
he is deeply impressed with the contrast between Christ and his pretended
successor; between the terms of acceptance with God by faith alone,
and the prescribed penances, and intercessions of saints, and works of
supererogation, by which the Church of Rome directed her deluded
votaries to seek admittance into heaven. Time passes, and Luther is
Professor in the University at Wittenburg. Tetzel and Rauch are selling indulgences near by, and half the population of Wittenburg are procuring them. ~ Luther warns them against deception; and, hearing con.
fessions and attending to the sacraments, (for he is still a Catholic), he
refuses to dispense the. Supper to some who rely upon their certificates
of indulgence, and will not confess their sins. Complaint is made to
Tetzel that Luther would not receive the certificates. Tetzel is enraged
and violently assails the heretics. Luther applies to his ecclesiastical
superiors to put a stop to existing disorders and abuses, against which
he felt it his duty to preach, but obtains no satisfaction. He resolves to
bring the matter of indulgences to a public debate. It is the day previous to the great gathering at the anniversary of the dedication of the
Electoral Church at Wittenburg, on All Saints' day, and Luther sallies
forth at twelve o'clock, and posts up on the door of the church his ninetyfive propositions respecting papal indulgence, inviting any and all persons
to discuss the subject with him.
The day of this memorable event, viz., the 31st of October, 1517, is
commonly regarded as the commencement of the Reformation. The
progress of this great movement it is not needful here to trace. It is
enough to say that these theses, translated and circulated by thousands
among the people, " acted with the velocity of lightning, and threw
all the center of Europe into a ferment." The threats and ferocious
dogmatism of the pope, the trials to which Luther was summoned, the
famous Bull issued in 1520, condemning forty-five propositions of a book
which Luther had put forth, as " heretical, scandalous and offensive to
pious ears," and delivering its author within sixty days, if he did not
recant, "to Satan for the destruction of his flesh," did but rouse the
courage and sharpen the acuteness of the Reformer, emancipate him
more completely from his errors, and precipitate the final rupture of not
himself alone, but multitudes of others from the see of Rome.
Then it was that the German pulpit assumed its great power, and be&
came a mighty engine of popular impression. Old ecclesiastics and new
converts became preachers of the living word. The human mind was
quickened and stimulated, learning revived, books were printed, investigations were pursued, the reverence for antiquity was abated, and the
era of ignorance hastened to its close.




THE GERMAN PULPIT.                       447
The slightest examination of the doctrines entertained by the preachers of these times, will reveal somewhat of error. Born and bred
under a monstrous system of despotism and superstition, imbibing, from
the first, false opinions which were carefully strengthened with their
strength, a sudden and complete emancipation from the meshes of falsehood and deceit, was not to be anticipated. Luther dreamed not of assailing Popery, as a system, when he first opposed the errors regarding
indulgences. Indeed he was willing, at the outset, to refer the matter
for decision to the Pope. Long years intervened before he could bring
himself to the point of even forsaking the Church of his fathers; and
never was he wholly free from the leaven of the Romish corruption. If
this be true of Luther, it is at least equally so of most of the Reformers,
and of those who co-operated with them. They gradually came to the
knowledge of the truth, each additional inquiry, and each development
of providence, enlarging their views, and disclosing the sandy foundation
on which their faith had reposed. But if wrong on some minor points,
this one, grand, central truth was clearly seen and firmly grasped —salva.
tion by faith alone. " I, Doctor Martin Luther, an unworthy evangelist
of our Lord Jesus Christ, do confess this article, that faith alone, without works, justifies in the sight of God; and I declare, that in spite of
the emperor —, the pope, all the cardinals, bishops, priests, monks,
nuns, kings, princes, nobles, all the world, and all the devils, it shall stand
unshaken forever."
Such was the language of Luther. Such was the sentiment of the
early preachers. This one thing they strongly felt. It was like an irrepressible fire shut up in their bones. Forms and usages were of little
consequence. " Let him have three cassocks, if he wishes," cried Luther,
when some one wanted a cassock to preach in. Special dogmas, too, did
not trouble these men. It is true that Luther unhappily came into collision with Calvin and Zwingle on some doctrinal points, which caused a
iivision in the Protestant ranks; but yet neither Luther nor his followers
ceased their work to discuss nice questions in theology, nor adjust difficult and apparently conflicting doctrines. This they believed, and this
they ceased not at all times and every where to preach, that man is a
sinner and Christ a Saviour; that all are in a state of condemnation,
but may be'justified freely by the grace of God, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.'
And this all-controlling sentiment determined the general style and
character of their preaching. Their writings are not marked by choice
words, carefully constructed sentences, and flights of the imagination.
Though living, many of them, amid the sublimest scenes of nature, they
seldom make mention of the objects around them. If those lofty scenes
inspired them with admiration, they were too deeply impressed with the
riches of God's grace to discourse much of His benevolence in creation.
They had no leisure for useless words. They were earnest preachers;




448                THE GERMAN PULPIT.
and the one grand end at which they aimed, and to which every thing
else gave way, was the enlightenment and salvation of men. Their vigor
of intellect, their learning, their rude eloquence all turned in this diree.
tion. As to the art of sermonizing, most of them knew but little, and
cared still less. Nevertheless, was therepower in their discourses. Rough,
vehement, jagged, their words were "half battles;" and, like the lightnings of heaven, went "burning and crashing amid the idols of super.
stition."
To form a just estimate of the efficiency of the early Germanic preach.
ers, it is only needful to glance at their far-reaching influence. Not to
speak of other nations, it is sufficient to say that the advocates of the new
faith, in spite of the most appalling forms of oppression, gave the impress
of Christianity, under God, to every object about them. According to
Ranke, in Wurzburg and Bamburg by far the greater part of the nobility
and the church authorities, the majority of the magistrates and burghers, and the whole mass of the people, almost at the outset of the Reformation, embraced the new doctrines. The Protestant movement proceeded with equal activity in Bavaria. In Austria it was asserted that
only one thirtieth part of the inhabitants had adhered to Catholicism. A
Venetian embassador, in the year 1558, reckons that only one tenth of
the inhabitants of Germany had remained faithful to the old religion. In
the universities, also, the Protestant doctrines had been victorious. And
not only so, but all science, art and literature were imbued with the religious spirit; a state of things which existed, in a good degree, for more
than two centuries.
We come, now, to a new and melancholy epoch in the history of the
German pulpit. We refer to the great defection from the faith of the
Gospel, which arose about the year 1750. Stepping back to a quarter
of a century previous to this time, we find the phase of religious life to
consist of the Pietists, and of the Reformed and Lutheran Churches.
The former, it is true, are too sentimental and imaginative, and the latter
too lifeless and uncharitable; but all alike profess to adhere to the written
revelation of God; and the prevailing piety, outwardly, at least, presents
as fair an aspect as at any period since the Reformation. And yet, so
sudden and so complete was the defection, that years before it was uttered, the declaration of one of her own sons might have been made as
descriptive of the lamentable condition of the Lutheran Churches gener
ally: " Were Luther to rise from the grave he could not possibly recognize as his own, or as members of the society which he founded, those
teachers who in our Church, would fain now-a-days be considered as his
successors."* The epidemic of infidelity so rapidly spread that in a
short time the throne and the pulpit, government, and functionaries, and
schools yielded to its influence, and turned from the Christianity of the
Beinhard in 1800.




TIlE GERMAN PULPIT.                     449
Bible to a species of" easy meteoric morality" —a powerless summary
of the human reason.
What were the causes of this wonderful and fearful decline, is a
most interesting and instructive inquiry. We can do little more than
indicate some of those most influential and important to be noted.
They were both external and internal. Among the former, the influence
of the Jesuits is to be taken into consideration. While the doctrines of
the Reformation were sending out their life-giving power to the remot.
est corners of Europe, the papacy was displaying new energy to arrest
their progress. The first new anti-Protestant impulse was given by the
Jesuits, who went forth from Vienna, Cologne, and Ingolstadt into all
parts of Germany. These efforts were followed, year after year, by a
great variety of others in different directions, all of which helped to
roll back the advancing tide. The movements of which we now
speak, however, while they checked the progress of reform, did
not directly introduce the infidel sentiment for which we are to
account.
The grand external source of this influence was English and French
skepticism. Bishop Burnet attributes its rise in England mainly to the
reaction of Puritanism in the time of Charles the Second. He might have
mentioned, at least with equal propriety, the double despotism of Church
and State which oppressed the nation, and produced a disgust for even the
name of religion; and also the systems of false philosophy, and well-designed but objectionable methods of defending the claims of revelation.
But whatever was its origin in England, as early as the beginning of the
eighteenth century the Deistical writings of this country were extensively
known in Germany. French skepticism and frivolity were introduced
into Germany somewhat later than English Deism; and though it had comparatively little influence, from its shallowness, upon educated men, it fearfully corrupted the higher classes of society, who aped the customs and
opinions of the French capital, and imported its opinions to destroy the
already fragile outworks of the German faith. This is particularly observable in the case of Frederick and Catharine of Prussia, who were constant
and admiring correspondents of Voltaire, D'Alembert, and Diderot, who
closed their letters with the sobriquet, " crush the wretch;" commanded
Francke to attend the theater as a punishment for his piety; and whose
ordinary reply was, when one was recommended to ecclesiastical office,
"I know nothing about the blackguard; if he is shrewd, that's
enough." By these foreign influences now referred to, the theolo.
gians and preachers, perhaps more than any other classes, became
contaminated.
Another main source of the corruption of the German pulpit was
the irreligion and false doctrines of the universities.  When the
teachers of these schools came to be made up of unconverted and skeptical men, the ministry of the churches became unsound; for in these
29




450                THE GERMAN PULPIT,
institutions the students of theology received their irmpress. It should
also be borne in mind that when the churches, from the action of external forces, had swerved to any extent from the simplicity of the Gos
pel, the ministry, by a certain process, became deteriorated; for, if it be
true that the ministers give character to the churches, it is also true
that the churches determine the character of the ministers.
But how came it to pass that the pastors, and churches, and theological professors were so sadly contaminated by this foreign infidelity?
This inquiry compels us to carry the investigation deeper, and look for
causes within Germany itself. We find, then, previous to the time of
this great defection, infidelity instilled into the minds of the German
theological students by one of their own professors. We refer to Wolf,
who was made Professor at Halle in the year 1706. The young men
who adopted his philosophy, and who came to the pulpits and chairs of
theology, did much toward preparing the way for the subsequent dreadfihl overthrow of the Christian faith. And then, too, the love of speculation, inherent in the German mind, must not be lost sight of, as a sec
ond internal cause. Between "the poor, active, studious, and inquisitive
theologians of Germany," and " the sleek, somnolent, and satisfied divines of the Church of England" (as the "Edinburg Review" drew the
contrast in 1831), the difference was as marked a century ago as at any
time since. If the disposition of the former is preferable to that of the
latter, it is, nevertheless, attended with more of peril. If the German
is to be commended for looking behind and below every thing, if he
eschews plain sense and obvious truth, until he has wrapped himself in
the mantle of speculation, and dived down to fathom it to the very
bottom, he is yet a subject of becoming solicitude lest he be lost in the
depths of endless conjectures and pantheistic vagaries. And so it has
often proved; as the history of German theology most painfully shows.
In connection with this natural fondness for subtle investigation, an?undue respect for reason began to obtain. Instead of being content With
the legitimate use of reason, to examine the evidences of revelation,
to confirm our belief in its Divine origin, to repel the attacks of its
adversaries, and to trace the harmony and bearings of Scripture doctrines, the German philosophers exalted human reason to the position
of sole arbitrator in the affairs of morality and religion. No matter
how apparently important the truth, nor how useful the religious institution, it must be demolished if its foundation be laid either deeper or
higher than the range of man's understanding. Now put the partial undermining of the Christian faith by the Wolfian philosophy beside these two
predominating tendencies of the German mind, and it is easy to perceive
its entire susceptibility to the influence of foreign skepticism. Infidelity
paid homage to Reason. The title of a single book by Toland, which was
among the first imported into Germany from England, contained the
very germ of that system of Rationalism which the Germans afterward




THE GERMAN  PULPIT.                        451
aaopted: " Christianity not Mysterious; a Treatise, showing that there
is nothing in the Gospel contrary to reason, or above it; and that no
Christian doctrine can be properly called a mystery."
We name another fact which goes to show why infidelity was able
to win its easy way among the German divines: There was, on their part,
a lamentable want of Scriptural knowledge. The early Protestant preach-,rs were well versed in the truths of the Bible; but before the beginning
f the eighteenth century, if we are to believe the pious Spener,
"many very diligent students of theology, who readily followed the
guidance of their preceptors, had never in their life gone through a
single book of the Bible."  About this time, it is said, that not in one
of the booksellers shops at Leipsic was there either Bible or Testament
to be found. The Thirty Years' War, (from 1618 to 1648), had contributed to this ignorance of the Scriptures by sharpening the party
spirit in the Christian ranks, and leading men to consult the Bible only
as a sort of armory whence to draw weapons for successful combat; thus
producing a verbal school of theology; or, as one of their better divines
characterized it, "an armed theology, pointed with the mere thorns of
logic." The Pietists did much to re-awaken this cold, formal theology,
and bring the teachers of religion to a practical acquaintance with the
Scriptures; but still there remained a sad defect in real ability to wield
the sword of the Spirit, and hence the foe easily entered.
Still another cause was the want of spiritual life in the ministry and
the churches. Pietism, at the time of which we speak, had lost its power.
What little true religion there was in Germany about the year 1750, it
is to be feared, was mostly owing to the zeal of the Moravians. Lutheranism was early paralyzed by its conservatism and inactivity. It had
declared itself opposed to all exertion beyond recognized Protestantism,
to all proselytism, and ceasing to be diffusive and aggressive, its forces
became stagnant; and the fermenting evil fed the germs of error, upon
which it was easy to introduce any kind of false doctrine that chanced
to appear. Was it strange that in such a soil, infidelity should spring
up and flourish?
We name but one other cause contributing to produce the deplorable defection which is the subject of remark. Reference is had to the
erroneous opinions embodied in the Protestant faith. It has been previously said that perfection in doctrinal knowledge was not to have been
anticipated. Perhaps it is matter of surprise, as it surely is of devout
gratitude, that the great Reformers attained so near in all things, to
consistent views of religious truth. But the Lutheran Reformation itself
needed to be reformed. Certain errors remained. It is well known
that while Luther discarded transubstantiation he contended earnestly
for much the same thing, in the doctrine of consubstantiation; i. e., to
take his own figure, that, "as in red hot iron two substances, namely,
iron and fire are united, so is the body of Christ joined with the bread




,52                THE  GERMAN  PULPIT.
in the Eucharist." His opinion of the book of the Revelation, and par.
ticularly of the Epistle of James is also generally known; and likewise
his adoption of the Apocryphal books as belonging to the sacred canon.
It is not difficult to perceive points of connection in these views for the
subsequent prevailing skepticism. It is equally well known that the
opinions of the great Reformer as to the exclusively spiritual and unsecular nature of the churches of Jesus Christ, were radically erroneous. Luther, unfortunately, did not perceive that the authority of the
Scriptures and the right of private judgment upon which he insisted,
would forbid all formal connection between Church and State. In his
view it was fit that religion should be established and enforced by law:
and hence when Protestantism  conquered, it "seated itself in a legal
establishment, upholding an orthodox creed, and a state-paid priesthood." Church authority, as a consequence, was exalted above the
Bible; the creed was too much like what it was called by the opposers,
" a paper pope;" the visible Church was soon formal and spiritless;
its ministers became secularized, time-serving, and corrupt; and all
tended to dissipate a reverence for religion and the Bible, and directly
prepare the way for the unbounded prevalence of irreligion and infidelity in their most destructive form.
Such were some of the main causes that operated to produce the most
remarkable revolution in religious belief which the world has ever seen.
We have now considered two of the three great eras of the German
pulpit: the age of its purity and power, and the age of its defection
and decline. The modern era, to which we now come, presents a far
brighter aspect than that which preceded it. The pulpit of Germany
has not yet recovered itself from its dreadful fall. The blight of formalism and infidelity is still upon it. It is true one system of false philosophy after another has given way, and by turns the theories of Spinoza,
and Leibnitz, and Kant, and Schelling, and Wolf, and Jacobi, and
Fichte, and Hegel, and others, have preponderated and declined; but
old systems have' vanished mainly because superseded by those that
were new. The publications of Strauss did much to sweep away the
peculiar schools of theology dominant at the opening of the present
century; but the mystical system of this writer is not less mischievous
than any preceding system; since with him religion consists in the consciousness of the identity between God and man, whose grand duty is
to advance into the infinite: and the work of Christ was to show that
"man is nothing more nor less than a God, who has been diffused into
the universe, and emptied of his individuality;" and the Bible, while it
contains many truths, contains, also, numerous myths, and errors, which
existed when it was written, and which are to be corrected by human
reason.
But, as above intimated, the theological opinion of Germany, bad
as it is, is far more sound and Scriptural at the present time than at any




THE GERMAN PULPIT.                       456
previous period since the era of the Reformation. Within less than a
century the pulpit was so far degenerated that sermons were preached
on such subjects as the cultivation of the potato, the profit or loss in
raising tobacco, the best management of animals, and the like. It is
not yet fifty years since the theologian Knapp, of Halle, expressed the
conviction that out of a thousand students in theology, he found but
one who was truly pious. And a writer of good authority believes that
among all the Protestant ministers of Germany, fifty years ago, there
were not two hundred that preached the primitive Gospel.* What proportion of the present sixteen thousand Protestant clergymen are real
Christians, it is, of course, impossible to tell. Among the extreme
Lutherans it is to be feared that it is small; but the Reformed and
other Protestant Churches, are now, to a great extent, blessed with an
Evangelical ministry. The advance within a quarter of a century, and
particularly within ten or fifteen years, has been very great.
It is said that a tenth, at least, of the present students of theology
are pious, and that the others are generally believers in the doctrines of
the Bible; and Krummacher says that two thirds of them enter the
Church with positive views: a marked change since Tholuck, some
twenty-six years ago, went to Halle, and found, as he recently stated at
the meeting of the Evangelical Alliance in Paris, only three students who
rallied to the new Evangelical banner which he bore to its walls. Formerly there was but one university left on the side of the true faith, yet
now there is but one (that at Giessen) where Rationalism is dominant.
The Bible, as interpreted by the spirit to the individual conscience, is
beginning to be acknowledged as the supreme and sole authority in matters of religion. Twelve years ago a champion for the truth, who has
done much for the regeneration of Europe, speaking of " the rock of the
word," exclaimed, " We will not abandon this foundation at any cost,
neither for the Pope, nor for Luther. What do I say?-not even for our
Reformers. Cursed be the day in which the Reformed Church shall
glory in being the Church of Calvin or Zwingle! The Bible-the Bible
-the whole Bible-nothing but the Bible!"t The sentiment is rapidly
finding hearty endorsers in Germany. In one branch of the Protestant
communion alone, that which has arisen under the efforts of the devoted
Oncken, there are about fifty preachers who give to it a practical and
earnest response. The labors of many sanctified and powerful minds
are daily increasing the number.
The religious elements of Germany are now in a state of active fer.
mentation. The contest between truth and error was never more
violent. It never absorbed to a greater extent the public interest. Al.
ready it forms the chief topic of discussion in the religious journals
furnishes the subjects for debate in the pastoral conferences, and is fre.
* Dr. Baird in Chr. Ret. and Reg. p. 225.
t Rev. Dr. Merle D'Aubign6, in " True Spirit of Reformed Church'




454                 THE GERMAN  PULPIT.
quently the theme of sermons. Nor can we doubt on which side the
ultimate victory will be. Tried as by fire, Christianity will yet come
forth purer and more vigorous and invincible, because of its fierce assaults. It was not without the best of reasons that God suffered the
enemies of revelation in Germany for a while to triumph. He would
give the opposers of His truth the fairest field, the strongest minds, and
the greatest possible advantages. In this case, on their side the hand
of power was often arrayed. Theirs were the seats of learning, and
theirs the command of the popular journals. Literature, too, could
afford no greater facilities; and they had wealth, and numbers, and
talent, and the favor of the people. And yet in spite of all their philosophical, metaphysical, and mythological researches; in spite of all their
clamors, and sophistry, and ridicule, the religion of reason is being rejected, and the Bible is extorting even from the mouths of its enemies
the confession, " It is the WORD OF GOD, and it liveth and abideth forever." What an argument this in favor of its Divine origin!
Having considered the doctrinal aspect of the modern German pulpit,
it is necessary to a complete view, that we glance at its method of
discourse. The German manner of preaching presents many striking
peculiarities. There is often displayed great ingenuity in the choice
of texts and themes, and the way of handling them.* This arises, in
part, from the fact that in the Lutheran Church there is a prescribed
series of Biblical lessons, a pericope, for every Sabbath and religious
festival of the year. As the preacher is obliged to take his texts from
these lessons, year after year, and must avoid monotony, the ingenuity
is put to work to find out hidden meanings, and invent new applications.
As another peculiarity, the text is not announced, generally, at the open.
ing of the discourse. It is preceded by a few " quickening thoughts;"
and when these are uttered, the preacher, as he approaches the text,
calls upon the congregation to arise and offer a brief prayer with him for
a Divine blessing upon the word, at the close of which he announces his
text, the congregation resume their seats, and the sermon proper begins.
The sermon, also, is usually brief, seldom exceeding a half hour, and
often falling short of it. This results from the time occupied in other
parts of the service, especially in singing, of which the Germans are ex.
ceedingly fond, and to which they wisely assign no inconsiderable part in
the devotions of the sanctuary. The houses of worship, moreover, are
frequently such as to render a protracted service perilous to the health
of the preacher and the hearers. As the sermons are short, so are
they generally free from argument,r profound discussion. This is re.
served for the lecture-room or the printed page. The sermon is often a
kind of homily or exposition, interspersed with lively sentiments, and
concluded with a fiervent appeal. Hence the dicourses of the German
preachers are seldom dry or scholastic. It is assumed that those who
* The Sermon of Harms particularly, in this work, affords an example.




THE GERMAN  EULPIT.                       455
enter the sanctuary %re believers in the main truths of revelation; and
the aim is rather to reach the heart than the intellect. With ThDluck,
they believe that the sermon, instead of being fabricated, should grow
by a natural process from  the feelings of the heart; and that the
preacher should not forget that "there is a way from the heart to the
head, as well as from the head to the heart;" and that, to use his own
figure, truth may often abide in the highest garret of the hearer's mind,
without entering into the dwelling-room of the affections. Hence, also,
as would naturally be supposed, the German discourses are characterized
by great fervor, liveliness of imagination, quickness of thought, a rapid
transition from point to point, much of figurative allusion, and often a
sententious, enigmatical style, which arouses and delights the hearer.
As a consequence, there is no stiffness, or artificiality in the pulpit productions of the "fatherland."  The German mind refuses restraint. It
will not be fettered. And it carries its independence into every aspect of its literature. Every author writes as he likes, is molded by nobody, and even breaks his own mold just when it pleases him to do it.
This independence and fi-eedom from restraint is seen in the structure
and manner of the German discourses. It is often carried to excess, and
leads sometimes to positive faults in method and style; such as an unnatural order and arrangement of the several parts, fanciful application
of Scripture texts, too much of antithesis and metaphor, forced comparisons and want of closely connected thought. But yet, if this independence of rhetorical rules and set forms of discourse leads to occasional
inaccuracies and violations of taste, it has its decided advantages.
Though the English and American method of sermonizing is doubtless
superior to the prevailing German style, yet the former might be improved by conformity, in some respects, to the latter. It might well dispense with some of its nicety and art, for the freedom and the earnest
pathos of the whole-souled German. If it is desirable to be guided by
the rules of the schools, as we most certainly are, it is not desirable to
be fettered by them, as we are in danger of becoming. If we should
make them our servants they ought not to be our masters.
There is such a thing as being too precise; such a thing as being
"dull by rule;" such a thing as avoiding eccentricity and falling into stupidity; such a thing as sermonizing without preaching; such a thing as
bringing to the pulpit a discourse which is built according to the approved
method, and is perfectly symmetrical and finished in all its parts, but
nevertheless wholly destitute of " the sighings and pulsations of the living
heart;" and more fit to be laid away as an embalmed beauty than
brought into a congregation of immortal souls. Tholuck would call such
a bundle of proprieties " dried sweetmeats in a glass jar;" and the bold
and eloquent Harms would have cried out to him who was delivering it,
"Speak negligently and incorrectly!"
But these remarks may not be prolonged. It is only needful to add




456                THE GERMAN PULPIT.
that the sermons of the evangelical ministers of Germany are generally
pervaded with the savor of the Gospel of Christ, the elevation of religious sentiment, and that Divine unction which proves that they who deliver them  are taught of God, and justifies the belief, already expressed, that'" after a frosty winter in the land of the Reformers, the
vernal season is returning with a luxuriance proportioned to its long
telay."




DISCOURSE THIRTY-FIRST.
MARTIN LUTHER.
h,}  life and character of Luther have been given, to some extent, in
the preceding sketch of the German Pulpit. This great Reformer was
born at Eisleben, in the Electorate of Saxony, November 10th, 1483.
Hans Luther, his industrious father, was a miner; and his mother, MIargaret Lindeman, is represented as a woman of eminent piety, who imparted to her son, in his childhood, much valuable religious instruction.
His early education was acquired at Magdeburg and at Eisenach; at
the latter of which places he first obtained his support by singing songs
from door to door; as was often done by many poor scholars. In 1501
he entered the university at Erfurth, where he was awakened to a sense
of his sins and need of forgiveness by the death of his companion, Alexius, who was stricken down by lightning while walking one day by his
side. His deep feelings led him to enter the monastery at Erfurth,
where, at the age of twenty-four years, he received clerical orders.
About this time he discovered a Latin copy of the Bible, by the earnest
study of which his mind was much enlightened.
In 1508 Luther was appointed to an academical chair in the University of Wittenburg, where he worked out and reconciled his previous
convictions of Scripture truth, became grounded in the doctrine ofjustification by faith, and on the 31st of October, 151'7, commenced his public
career as a mighty reformer of old abuses, by nailing to the church door
at Wittenburg his ninety-five propositions against indulgences.
Luther never acted as settled pastor; and of the numerous incidents
of thrilling interest which marked his eventful life, his controversies with
Tetzel and other opposers, his excommunication by the Pope, his trial at
the Diet of Worms, his confinement in the Castle of Wartburg, his encounter with Henry the Eighth of England, particular mention can not
here be made. At the age of sixty-two years, three months and eight
days, he peacefully folded his arms in death, at the place of his birth, on
the 18th of February, 1546; and his remains, in a lead coffin, were carried to Wittenburg and deposited near the pulpit in which he had
preached, where they still lie to attract the attention of the thousands
who visit the seat of the Reformation.




9458                    MARTIN  LUTHER.
Upon the prominent traits of Luther's character, it is neither desira.
ble nor possible here to dwell. As a preacher he possessed the most as.
tonishing abilities. Daily, and often several times in a day, was he wont
to attract crowds by his public discourses; and of his sermons it was
said, "Each word was a thunderbolt." It can not be doubted that for
about thirty years Luther was the greatest pulpit orator living. His
manly form, his piercing, fiery eye, his penetrating voice, his powerful
and acute mind, his logical talents, his poetic genius, and his sincere,
hearty, earnest manner, all combined to render him one of the most impressive preachers that the world has ever beheld.
In considering Luther as an author we are surprised at the variety
and extent of his labors. His writings have created the language and
literature of modern Germany. They are very numerous and embrace
a great variety of subjects. During the first ten years of the Reforma.
tion his publications were three hundred in number; during the second
ten, two hundred and thirty two; and during the third ten years, one
hundred and eighty-three-in all sevenhundred and fifteen volumes, or an
average of one for every fortnight of his public life.  Many of these were
but pamphlets, as we should call them, but many of them, also, were large
and elaborate treatises. His sermons, in common with his other writings,
are idiomatic, pointed, and piercing, discovering but little polish of style,
but marked by novelty of ideas and plain, forcible language. Of course
no translation can do him justice, for it is only in his native German that
his full power is seen. It is believed, however, that a tolerably correct
idea of his preaching may be gathered from the discourse which follows;
the rendering of which is substantially the same as in a small American
edition of some of Luther's Sermons.
THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION.
"Now I say, that the heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant,
though he be lord of all; out is under tutors and governors until the time appointed of
the father. Even so we, when we were children, were in bondage under the elements
of the world: but when the fullness of the time was come, God sent forth His Son, made
of a woman, made under the law, to redeem them that were under the law, that we might
receive the adoption of sons. And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of
His Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father. Wherefore thou art no more a servant,
but a son; and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ." —GAL. iv. 1-7.
This text touches the very pith of Paul's chief doctrine. The
cause why it is well understood but by few, is, not that it is so obscure and difficult, but because there is so little knowledge of faith
left in the world; without which it is not possible to understand




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 459
Paul, who every where treats of faith with such earnestness and
force. I must therefore speak in such a manner that this text will
appear plain; and that I may more conveniently illustrate it, I will
speak a few words by way of preface.
First, therefore, we must understand the doctrine in which good
works are set forth, far different from that which treats of justification; as there is a great difference between the substance and its
working; between man and his work. Justification pertains to man,
and not to works; for man is either justified and saved, or judged and
condemned, and not works. Neither is it a controversy among the
godly, that man is not justified by works, but righteousness must
come from some other source than from his own works: for Moses,
writing of Abel, says, " The Lord had respect unto Abel, and to
his offering." First He had respect to Abel himself, then to his
offering; because Abel was first counted righteous and acceptable to
God, and then for his sake his offering was accepted also, and not he
because of his offering. Again, God had no respect to Cain, and
therefore neither to his offering: therefore thou seest that regard is
had first to the worker, then to the work.
From this it is plainly gathered that no work can be acceptable
to God, unless he which worketh it was first accepted by Him: and
again, that no work is disallowed of Him unless the author thereof
be disallowed before. I think these remarks will be sufficient concerning this matter at present, by which it is easy to understand that
there are two sorts of works, those before justification, and those
after it; and that these last are good works indeed, but the former
oanly appear to be good. Hereof cometh such disagreement between
God and those counterfeit holy ones; for this cause nature and reason rise and rage against the Holy Ghost; this is that of which
almost the whole Scripture treats. The Lord in His Word defines
all works that go before justification to be evil, and of no importance,
and requires that man before all things be justified. Again, He pronounces all men which are unregenerate, and have that nature which
they received of their parents unchanged, to be unrighteous and
wicked, according to that saying " all men are liars," that is, unable
to perform their duty, and to do those things which they ought to
dc; and " Every imagination of the thoughts of his heart are only
evil continually;" whereby he is able to do nothing that is good, foi
the fountain of his actions which is his heart, is corrupted. If he do
works which outwardly seem good, they are no better than the offer
ing of Cain.
Here again comes forth reason, our reverend mistress, seeming to




460                 MARTIN LUTHER.
be marvelously wise, but who indeed is unwise and blind, gainsaying
her God, and reproving Him of lying; being furnished with her
follies and feeble honor, to wit, the light of nature, free will, the
strength of nature; also with the books of the heathen and the doctrines of men, contending that the works of a man not justified, are
good works, and not like those of Cain, yea, and so good that he
hat worketh them is justified by them; that God will have respect,
first to the works, then to the worker. Such doctrine now bears the
sway every where in schools, colleges, monasteries wherein no other
saints than Cain was, have rule and authority. Now from this error
comes another: they which attribute so much to works, and do not
accordingly esteem the worker, and sound justification, go so far that
they ascribe all merit and righteousness to works done before justification, making no account of faith, alleging that which James saith,
that without works faith is dead. This sentence of the Apostle
they do not rightly understand; making but little account of faith,
they always stick to works, whereby they think to merit exceedingly, and are persuaded that for their work's sake they shall obtain
the favor of God: by this means they continually disagree with God,
showing themselves to be the posterity of Cain. God hath respect
unto man, these unto the works of man; God alloweth the work for
the sake of him that worketh, these require that for the work's sake
the worker may be crowned.
But here, perhaps, thou wilt say, what is needful to be done? by
what means shall I become righteous and acceptable to God? how
shall I attain to this perfect justification? The Gospel answers,
teaching that it is necessary that thou hear Christ, and repose thyself wholly on Him, denying thyself and distrusting thine own
strength; by this means thou shalt be changed from  Cain to Abel,
and being thyself acceptable, shalt offer acceptable gifts to the Lord.
It is faith that justifies thee, thou being endued therewith, the Lord
remitteth all thy sins by the mediation of Christ His Son, in whom
this faith believeth and trusteth. Moreover, He giveth unto such a
faith His Spirit, which changes the man and makes him anew, giving him another reason and another will. Such a one worketh
nothing but good works. Wherefore nothing is required unto justi.
fication but to hear Jesus Christ our Saviour, and to believe in Him.
Howbeit these are not the works of nature, but of grace.
He, therefore, that endeavors to attain to these things by works,
shutteth the way to the Gospel, to faith, grace, Christ, God, and all
things that help unto salvation. Again, nothing is necessary in order
to accomplish good works but justification; and he that hath attained




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 461
it performs good works, and not any other. Hereof it sufficiently
appears that the beginning, the things following, and the order of
man's salvation are after this sort; first of all it is required that thou
hear the Word of God; next that thou believe; then that thou work:
and so at last become saved and happy. He that changes this order,
without doubt is not of God. Paul also describes this, saying "Wholsoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. Ho V
then shall they call on Him in whom they have not believed? as A,
how shall they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? an 1,
how shall they hear without a preacher? and how shall they preach
except they be sent?"
Christ teaches us to pray the Lord of the harvest to send forth
laborers into His harvest; that is, sincere preachers. When we
hear these preach the true word of God, we may believe; which
faith justifies a man, and makes him godly indeed, so that he now
calls upon God in the spirit of holiness, and works nothing but that
which is good, and thus becomes a saved man. Thus he that believeth shall be saved; but he that worketh without faith is condemned; as Christ saith, he that doth not believe shall be condemned, from which no works shall deliver him. Some say, I will
now endeavor to become honest. It is meet surely that we study to
lead an honest life, and to do good works. But if one ask them how
we may apply ourselves unto honesty, and by what means we may
attain it, they answer, that we must fast, pray, frequent temples,
avoid sins, etc. Whereby one becomes a Chatterhouse Monk, another chooses some other order of Monks, and another is consecrated
a priest: some torment their flesh by wearing hair-cloth, others
scourge their bodies with whips, others afflict themselves in a different manner: but these are of Cain's progeny, and their works are
no better than his; for they continue the same that they were before, ungodly, and without justification: there is a change made of
outward works only, of apparel, of place, etc.
They scarce think of faith, they presume only on such works as
seem good to themselves, thinking by them to get to heaven. But
Christ said, " Enter in at the strait gate, for I say unto you, many
seek to enter in, and can not." Why is this? because they know
not what this nar-ow gate is; for it is faith, which altogether annihilates or makes a man appear as nothing in his own eyes, and requires him not to trust in his own works, but to depend upon the
grace of God, and be prepared to leave and suffer all things. Those
holy ones,f Cain's progeny think their good works are the narrow




462                 MARTIN LUTHER.
gate; and are not, therefore, extenuated or made less, whereby they
might enter.
When we begin to preach of faith to those that believe altogether
in works, they laugh and hiss at us, and say, Dost thou count us as
Turks and heathens, whom it behooves now first to learn faith? is
there such a company of priests, monks, and nuns, and is not faith
known? who knoweth not what he ought to believe? even sinners
know that. Being after this sort animated and stirred up, they
think themselves abundantly endued with faith, and that the rest is
now to be finished and made perfect by works. They make so
small and slender account of faith, because they are ignorant what
faith is, and that it alone doth justify. They call it faith, believing
those things which they have heard of Christ; this kind of faith the
devils also have, and yet they are not justified. But this ought
rather to be called an opinion of men. To believe those things to
be true which are preached of Christ, is not sufficient to constitute
thee a Christian, but thou must not doubt that thou art of the number of them unto whom all the benefits of Christ are given and exhibited; which he that believes must plainly confess, that he is holy,
godly, righteous, the son of God, and certain of salvation; and that
by no merit of his own, but by the mere mercy of God poured forth
upon him for Christ's sake: which he believes to be so rich anc!
plentiful, as.indeed it is, that although he be as it were drowned in
sin, he is notwithstanding made holy, and become the son of God.
Wherefore, take heed that thou nothing doubt that thou art the
son of God, and therefore made righteous by His grace; let all fear
and care be done away. However, thou must fear and tremble that
thou mayest persevere in this way unto the end; but thou must not
do this as though it consisted in thy own strength, for righteousness
and salvation are of grace, whereunto only thou must trust. But
when thou knowest that it is of grace alone, and that thy faith also
is the gift of God, thou shalt have cause to fear, lest some terptation violently move thee from this faith.
Every one by faith is certain of this salvation; but we ought to
have care and fear that we stand and persevere, trusting in the Lord.
and not in our own strength. When those of the race of Cain
hear faith treated of in this manner, they marvel at our madness, as
it seems to them. God turn us from this way, say they, that we
should affirm ourselves holy and godly; far be this arrogance and
rashness from us: we are miserable sinners; we should be mad, if
we should arrogate holiness to ourselves. Thus they mock at true
faith, and count such doctrine as this execrable error; and thus try




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 465
to extinguish the Gospel. These are they that deny the faith of
Christ, and persecute it throughout the whole world; of whom Paul
speaks: "' In the latter times many shall depart from the faith," etc.,
for we see by these means that true faith lies every where oppressed; it is not preached, but commonly disallowed and condemned.
The pope, bishops, colleges, monasteries, and universities, have
more than five hundred years persecuted it with one mind and conseat most obstinately, which has been the means of driving many to
hell. If any object against the admiration, or rather the mad senselessness of these men, if we count ourselves even holy, trusting the
goodness of God to justify us, or as David prayed, "Preserve Thou
me, 0 Lord, for I am holy," or as Paul saith, "The Spirit of God
beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God;"
they answer that the prophet and apostle would not teach us in these
words, or give us an example which we should follow, but that they
being particularly and specially enlightened, received such revelation of themselves. In this way they misrepresent the Scripture,
which affirms that they are holy, saying that such doctrine is not
written for us, but that it is rather peculiar miracles, which do not
belong to all. This forged imagination we account of as having
tome from their sickly brain. Again, they believe that they shall
be made righteous and holy by their own works, and that because
of them God will give them salvation and eternal blessedness.
In the opinion of these men it is a Christian duty to think that
we shall be righteous and sacred because of our works; but to believe that these things are given by the grace of God, they condemn
as heretical; attributing that to their own works which they do not
attribute to the grace of God. They that are endued with true faith,
and rest upon the grace of the Lord, rejoice with holy joy, and apply themselves with pleasure to good works, not such as those of
Cain's progeny do, as feigned prayers, fasting, base and filthy apparel, and such like trifles, but to true and good works whereby their
neighbors are profited.
Perhaps some godly man may think, If the matter be so, and
our works do not save us, to what end are so many precepts given
us, and why doth God require that they be obeyed? The present
text of the Apostle will give a solution of this question, and upon
this occasion we will give an exposition thereof. The Galatians being taught of Paul the faith of Christ, but afterward seduced by
false apostles, thought that our salvation must be finished and made
perfect by the works of the law; and that faith alone doth not




464                 MARTIN LUTHER.
suffice. These Paul calls back again from works unto faith with
great diligence; plainly proving that the works of the law, which
go before faith, make us only servants, and are of no importance
toward godliness and salvation; but that faith makes us the sons of
God, and from thence good works without constraint forthwith
plentifully flow.
But here we must observe the words of the Apostle; he calls him
a servant that is occupied in works without faith, of which we have
already treated at large: but he calls him a son which is righteous
by faith alone. The reason is this, although the servant apply himself to good works, yet he does it not with the same mind as doth
the son; that is, with a mind free, willing, and certain that the inheritance and all the good things of the Father are his; but does it
as he that is hired in another man's house, who hopes not that the
inheritance shall come to him. The works indeed of the son and
the servant are alike; and almost the same in outward appearance; but their minds differ exceedingly: as Christ saith, " The servant abideth not in the house forever, but the son abideth ever."
Those of Cain's progeny want the faith of sons, which they confesE themselves; for they think it most absurd, and wicked arrogancy,
to affirm themselves to be the sons of God, and holy; therefore as they
believe, even so are they counted before God; they neither become
holy nor the sons of God, nevertheless are they exercised with the
works of the law; wherefore they are and remain servants forever.
They receive no reward except temporal things; such as quietness
of life, abundance of goods, dignity, honor, etc., which we see to be
common among the followers of popish religion. But this is their
reward, for they are servants, and not sons; wherefore in death they
shall be separated from all good things, neither shall any portion of
the eternal inheritance be theirs who in this life would believe nothing
thereof. We perceive, therefore, that servants and sons are not unlike in works, but in mind and faith they have no resemblance.
The Apostle endeavors here to prove that the law with all the
works thereof makes us but mere servants, if we have not faith in
Christ; for this alone makes us sons of God. It is the word of
grace followed by the Holy Ghost, as is shown in many places,
where we read of the Holy Ghost falling on Cornelius and his family,
while hearing the preaching of Peter. Paul teaches that no man is
justified before God by the works of the law; for sin only cometh
by the law. He that trusts in works, condemns faith as the most
pernicious arrogancy and error of all others.  Here thou seest
plainly that such a man is not righteous, being destitute of that faith




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION.  465
and belief which is necessary to make him acceptable before God
and His Son; yea, he is an enemy to this faith, and therefore to
righteousness also. Thus it is easy to understand that which Paul
saith, that no man is justified before God by the works of the law.
The worker must be justified before God, before he can work any
good thing. Men judge the worker by the works; God judges the
works by the worker. The first precept requires us to acknowledge
and worship one God, that is, to trust Him alone, which is the true
faith whereby we become the sons of God. Thou canst not be delivered from the evil of unbelief by thine own power, nor by the
power of the law; wherefore all thy works which thou doest to
satisfy the law, can be nothing but works of the law; of far less
importance than to be able to justify thee before God, who counteth
them righteous only who truly believe in Him; for they that acknowledge Him the true God are His sons, and do truly fulfill the
law. If thou shouldst even kill thyself by working, thy heart can
not obtain this faith thereby, for thy works are even a hinderance to
it, and cause thee to persecute it.
He that studieth to fulfill the law without faith, is afflicted for the
devil's sake; and continues a persecutor both of faith and the law,
until he come to himself, and cease to trust in his own works; he
then gives glory to Godl who justifies the ungodly, and acknowledges himself to be nothing, and sighs for the grace of God, of
which he knows that he has need. Faith and grace now fill his empty
mind, and satisfy his hunger; then follow works which are truly
good; neither are they works of the law, but of the Spirit, of faith
and grace; they are called in the Scripture, the works of God which
He worketh in us.
Whatsoever we do of our own power and strength, that which is
not wrought in us by His grace, without doubt is a work of the law,
and avails nothing toward justification; but is displeasing to God,
because of the unbelief wherein it is done. He that trusts in works
does nothing freely and with a willing mind; he would do no good
work at all if he were not compelled by the fear of hell, or allured
by the hope of present good. Whereby it is plainly seen that they
strive only for gain, or are moved with fear, showing that they
rather hate the law from their hearts, and had rather there were no
law at all. An evil heart can do nothing that is good. This evil propensity of the heart, and unwillingness to do good, the law betrays,
when it teaches that God does not esteem the works of the hand,
but those of the heart.
Thus sin is known by the law, as Paul teaches; for we learn
30




466                  MARTIN  LUTHER.
thereby that our affections are not placed on that which is good,
This ought to teach us not to trust in ourselves, but to long after the
grace of God, whereby the evil of the heart may be taken away,
and we become ready to do good works, and love the law voluntarily;
not for fear of any punishment, but for the love of righteousness.
By this means one is made of a servant, a son; of a slave an heir.*
We shall now come to treat more particularly of the text. Verse
1. "The heir, as long as he is a child, differeth nothing from a servant, though he be lord of all." We see that the children unto
whom their parents have left some substance, are brought up no
otherwise than if they were servants. They are fed and clothed
with their goods, but they are not permitted to do with them, nor
use them according to their own minds, but are ruled with fear and
discipline of manners, so that even in their own inheritance they
live no otherwise than as servants. After the same sort it is in
spiritual things. God made with his people a covenant, when he
promised that in the seed of Abraham, that is in Christ, all nations
of the earth should be blessed. That covenant was afterward confirmed by the death of Christ, and revealed and published abroad
by the preaching of the Gospel. For the Gospel is an open and
general preaching of this grace, that in Christ is laid up a blessing
for all men that believe.
Before this covenant is truly opened and made manifest to men,
the sons of God live after the manner of servants under the law;
and are exercised with the works of the law, although they can not
be justified by them; they are true heirs of heavenly things, of this
blessing and grace of the covenant; although they do not as yet know
or enjoy it. Those that are justified by grace, cease from the works
of the law, and come unto the inheritance of justification; they then
freely work those things that are good, to the glory of God and
benefit of their neighbors. For they have possessed it by the covenant of the Father, confirmed by Christ, revealed, published, and as
it were delivered into their hands by the Gospel, through the grace
and mercy of God.
This covenant, Abraham, and all the fathers which were endued
with true faith, had no otherwise than we have: although before Christ
was glorified, this grace was not openly preached and published:
they lived in like faith, and therefore obtained the like good things.
They had the same grace, blessing, and covenant that we have; fol
there is one Father and God over all. Thou seest that Paul here,
* As preached, this was a double discourse, and the division occurs at this plae.




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 467
as in almost all other places, treats much of faith; that we are not
justified by works, but by faith alone. There is no good thing
which is not contained in this covenant of God; it gives righteousness, salvation, and peace. By faith the whole inheritance of God
is at once received. From thence good works come; not meritorious, whereby thou mayest seek salvation, but which with a mind
already possessing righteousness, thou must do with great pleasure
to the profit of thy neighbors.
Verse 2. "But is under tutors and governors until the time appointed of the father." Tutors and governors are they which bring
up the heir, and so rule him and order his goods, that he neither
waste his inheritance by riotous living, nor his goods perish or be
otherwise consumed. They permit him not to use his goods at his
own will or pleasure, but suffer him to enjoy them as they shall be
needful and profitable to him. They keep him at home, and instruct him whereby he may long and comfortably enjoy his inher
itance: but as soon as he arrives to the years of discretion and
judgment, it can not but be grievous to him to live in subjection to
the commands and will of another.
In the same manner stands the case of the children of God,
which are brought up and instructed under the law, as under a master in the liberty of sons. The law profits them in this, that by tho,
fear of it and the punishment which it threatens, they are driven
from sin, at least from the outward work: by it they are brought to
a knowledgt of themselves, and that they do no good at all with a
willing and ready mind as becomes sons; whereby they may easily
see what is the root of this evil, and what is especially needful unto
salvation; to wit, a new and living spirit to that which is good:
which neither the law nor the works of the law is able to give; yea,
the more they apply themselves to it, the more unwilling they find
themselves to work those things which are good.
Here they learn that they do not satisfy the law, although outwardly they live according to its precepts. They pretend to obey
it in works, although in mind they hate it; they pretend themselves
righteous, but they remain sinners. These are like unto those of
Cain's progeny, and hypocrites; whose hands are compelled to do
good, but their hearts consent unto sin and are subject thereto. To
know this concerning one's self is not the lowest degree toward sal-,ation. Paul calls such constrained works the works of the law;
for they flow not from a ready and willing heart; howbeit the law
does not require works alone, but the heart itself; wherefore it is
said in the first Psalm of the blessed man, "But his delight is in




468                 MARTIN LUTHER.
the law of the Lord: and in His law doth he meditate day and
night."  Such a mind the law requires, but it gives it not; neither
can it of its own nature: whereby it comes to pass that while the
law continues to exact it of a man, and condemns him as long as he
hath such a mind, as being disobedient to God, he is in anguish on
every side; his conscience being grievously terrified.
Then, indeed, is he most ready to receive the grace of God; this
being the time appointed by the Father when his servitude shall
end, and he enter into the liberty of the sons of God. For being
thus in distress, and terrified, seeing that by no other means he cau
avoid the condemnation of the law, he prays to the Father fui
grace; he acknowledges his frailty, he confesses his sin, he ceases to
trust in works, and humbles himself, perceiving that between him
and a manifest sinner there is no difference at all except of works,
that he hath a wicked heart even as every other sinner hath. The
condition of man's nature is such that it is able to give to the law,
works only, and not the heart; an unequal division, truly, to dedicate the heart, which incomparably excels all other things, to sin,
and the hand to the law: which is offering chaff to the law, and the
wheat to sin; the shell to God, and the kernel to Satan. Whose
ungodliness if one reprove, they become enraged, and would even
take the life of innocent Abel, and persecute all those that follow
the truth.
Those that trust in works seem to defend them to obtain righteousness; they promise to themselves a great reward for this, by
persecuting heretics and blasphemers, as they say, who seduce
with error, and entice many from good works. But those that God
bath chosen, learn by the law how unwilling the heart is to conform
to the works of the law; they fall from their arrogancy, and are by
this knowledge of themselves brought to see their own unworthiness. Hereby they receive that covenant of the eternal blessing
and the Holy Ghost, which renews the heart: whereby they are delighted with the law, and hate sin; and are willinc and ready to do
those things which are good. This is the time appointed by the
Father, when the heir must no longer remain a servant, but a son;
being led by a free spirit, he is no more kept in subjection under
tutors and governors after the manner of a servant; which is even
that which Paul teaches in the following:
Verse 3. "Even so we, when we were children, were in bond.
age under the elements of the word." By the word elements, thou
mayest here understand the first principles or law written; which is
as it were the first exercises and instructions of holy learning; as it




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 469
is said: " As concerning the time ye ought to be teachers, ye have
need that one teach you again which be the first principles of the
oracles of God." " Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments
of the world."  "How turn ye again to the weak and beggarly elements, whereunto ye desire again to be in bondage."
Here Paul calls the law rudiments; because it is not able to perform that righteousness which it requires. For whereas it earnestly
requires a heart and mind given to godliness, nature is not able to
satisfy it: herein it makes a man feel his poverty, and acknowledge
his infirmity: it requires that of him by right which he has not,
neither is able to have.  " The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth
life." Paul calls them the rudiments of the world, which, not being
renewed by the Spirit, only perform worldly things; to wit, in
places, times, apparel, persons, vessels, and such like. But faith
rests not in worldly things, but in the grace, word, and mercy of
God: counting alike, days, meats, persons, apparel, and all things
of this world.
None of these by themselves either help or hinder godliness or
salvation. With those of Cain's progeny, faith neither agrees in
name or any thing else: one of them eats flesh, another abstains
from it; one wears black apparel, another white; one keeps this day
holy, and another that: every one has his rudiments, under which
he is in bondage: all of them are addicted to the things of the
world, which are frail and perishable. Against these Paul speaks,
"Wherefore, if ye be dead with Christ from the rudiments of the
world, why, as though living in the world, are ye subject to ordinances: touch not, taste not, handle not, which all are to perish
with the using. after the commandments and doctrines of men.
Which things have indeed a show of wisdom in will-worship and
humility, and neglecting of the body; not in any honor to the satisfying of the flesh."
By this and other places above mentioned, it is evident that
monasteries and colleges, whereby we measure the state of spiritual
men as we call them, plainly disagree with the Gospel and Christian
liberty: and therefore it is much more dangerous to live in this
kind of life, than among the most profane men. All their works
are nothing but rudiments and ordinances of the world; neither are
they Christians but in name, wherefore all their life and h Dliness are
sinful and most detestable hypocrisy. The fair show of feigned
holness which is in those ordinances, does, in a marvelous and
secret manner, withdraw from faith, more than those manifest and




41170               MARTIN  LUTHER.
gross sins of which open sinners are guilty. Now this false and
servile opinion, faith alone takes away, and teaches us to trust in,
and rest upon, the grace of God, whereby is given freely that which
is needful to work all things.
Verse 4. "But when the fullness of the time was come, God
sent forth His Son, made of a woman, made under the law, to
redeem them that were under the law, that we might receive the
adoption of sons."  After Paul had taught us that righteousness
and faith can not come to us by the law, neither can we deserve it
by nature, he shows us by whom we obtain it; and who is the author of our justification. The Apostle saith, " When the fullness of
the time was come;" here Paul speaks of the time which was appointed by the Father to the son, wherein he should live under
tutors, etc. This time being come to the Jews, and ended, Christ
came in the flesh; so it is daily fulfilled to others, when they come
to the knowledge of Christ, and change the servitude of the law for
the faith of sons. Christ for this cause came unto us, that believing
in Him, we may be restored to true liberty; by which faith they of
ancient times also obtained theliberty of the Spirit.
As soon as thou believest in Christ, He comes to thee, a deliverer and Saviour; and now the time of bondage is ended; as the
Apostle saith, the fullness thereof is come.
Verse 6. "And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the
Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.":  Here
we see plainly that the Holy Ghost cometh to the saints, not by
works, but by faith alone. Sons believe, while servants only work;
sons are free from the law, servants are held under the law, as
appears by those things that have been before spoken. But how
comes it to pass that he saith "because ye are sons, God hath sent
forth the Spirit," etc., seeing it is before said that by the coming of
the Spirit we are changed from servants to sons: but here, as though
we could be sons before the coming of the Spirit, he saith "because
ye are sons," etc. To this question we must answer, that Paul
speaks here in the same manner that he did before, that is, before
the fullness of the time came, we were in bondage under the rudiments of the world: all that shall become sons are counted in the place
of sons with God: therefore he saith rightly, " because ye are sons,"
that is, because the state of sons is appointed to you from everlasting, " God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son," to wit, that He
might finish it in you, and make you such as He hath long since of
His goodness determined that He would make you.




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 471
Now if the Father give unto us His Spirit, He will make us His
true sons and heirs, that we may with confidence cry with Christ,
Abba, Father; being His brethren and fellow heirs. The Apostle
has well set forth the goodness of God which makes us partakers
with Christ, and causes us to have all things common with Him, so
that we live and are led by the same Spirit. These words of the
Apostle show that the Holy Ghost proceeds from Christ, as he calls
Him his Spirit. So God hath sent forth the Spirit of His Son, that
is, of Christ, for He is the Spirit of God, and comes from God to us,
and not ours, unless one will say after this manner, " my Holy Spirit," as we say "' my God," "my Lord," etc. As He is said to be the
Holy Spirit of Christ, it proves Him to be God of whom that Spirit
is sent, therefore it is counted His Spirit.
Christians may perceive by this whether they have in themselves
the Holy Ghost, to wit, the Spirit of sons; whether they hear His
voice in their hearts: for Paul saith, He crieth in the hearts which
He possesseth, Abba, Father; he saith also, "We have received the
Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father." Thou hearest
this voice when thou findest so much faith in thyself that thou dost
assuredly without doubting, presume that not only thy sins are forgiven thee, but also that thou art the beloved sons of God, who,
being certain of eternal salvation, durst both call Him Father, and
be delighted in Him with a joyful and confident heart. To doubt
these things brings a reproach upon the death of Christ, as though
Hie had not obtained all things for us.
It may be that thou shalt be so tempted as to fear and doubt,
and think plainly that God is not a favorable Father, but a wrathful
revenger of sins, as it happened with Job, and many other saints:
but in such a conflict, this trust and confidence that thou art a son
ought to prevail and overcome. It is said " The Spirit itself maketh
intercession for us with groanings which can not be uttered; and
that He beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of
God."  How can it therefore be that our hearts should not hear this
cry and testimony of the Spirit? But if thou dost not feel this cry,
take heed that thou be not slothful and secure; pray constantly, for
thou art in an evil state.
Cain saith, " My punishment is greater than I can bear. Behold,
Thou hast driven me out this day from the face of the earth, and
from Thy face shall I be hid; and it shall come to pass that every
one that findeth me shall slay me." This is a dreadful and terrible
cry, which is heard from all Cain's progeny, all such as trust to
themselves and their own works, who put not their trust in the Son




472                  MARTJN  LUTHER.
of God, neither consider tnat He was sent from the Father, made of a
woman under the law, much less that all these things were done for
their salvation. And while their ungodliness is not herewith content, they begin to persecute even the sons of God, and grow so
cruel, that, after the example of their father Cain, they can not rest
until they slay their righteous brother Abel, wherefore the blood of
Christ continually cries out against them nothing but punishment
and vengeance; but for the heirs of salvation it cries by the Spirit
of Christ for nothing but grace and reconciliation.
The Apostle here uses a Syrian and Greek word, saying, Abba,
Pater. This word Abba, in the Syrian tongue, signifies a father, by
which name the chief of monasteries are still called; and by the same
name, Heremites in times past, being holy men, called their presidents: at last, by use, it was also made a Latin word. Therefore
that which Paul saith is as much as Father, Father; or if thou hadst
rather, "my Father."
Verse 7. "' Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son, and
if a son, then an heir of God through Christ." He saith, that after
the coming of the Spirit, after the knowledge of Christ, "thou art
not a servant." A son is free and willing, a servant is compelled
and unwilling; a son liveth and resteth in faith, a servant in works.
Therefore it appears that we can not obtain salvation of God
by works, but before thou workest that which is acceptable to Him,
it is necessary that thou receive salvation; then good works will
freely flow, to the honor of thy heavenly Father, and to the profit
of thy neighbors; without any fear of punishment, or looking for
reward.
If this inheritance of the Father be thine by faith, surely thou
art rich in all things, before thou hast wrought any thing. It is
said " Your salvation is prepared and reserved in heaven, to be
showed in the last time," wherefore the works of a Christian ought to
have no regard to merit, which is the manner of servants, but only
for the use and benefit of our neighbors, whereby we may truly live
to the glory of God. Lest that any think that so great an inheritance cometh to us without cost (although it be given to us without
our cost or merit), yet it cost Christ a dear price, who, that He might
purchase it for us, was made under the law, and satisfied it for us,
both by life and also by death.
Those benefits which from love we bestow upon our neighbor,
come to him freely, without any charges or labor of his, notwithstanding they cost us something, even as Christ hath bestowed those
things which are His upon us. Thus hath Paul called back the




THE METHOD AND FRUITS OF JUSTIFICATION. 473
Galatians from the teachers of works, which preached nothing but
the law, perverting the Gospel of Christ. Which things are very
necessary to be marked of us also: for the Pope, with his prelates
and monks hath for a long time intruded, urging his laws, which are
foolish and pernicious, disagreeing in every respect with the Word
of God, seducing almost the whole world from the Gospel of Christ,
nd plainly extinguishing the faith of sons, as the Scripture hath in
divers places manifestly prophesied of His kingdom. Wherefore let
every one that desires salvation, diligently take heed of him and his
followers, no otherwise than Satan himself.




DISCOURSE THIRTY SECOND.
PHILIP MELANCTHON.
Tins distinguished fellow-laborer of Luther was born February 160,
1497, at Bretten, in the palatinate of the Rhine. His name was origin.
ally Schwartzerd, (blackearth,) which he changed, in keeping with a frequent custom of that age, into the Greek name of the same signification
-Melancthon. In 1510 he distinguished himself as a student in the
University at Heidelburg, and later at Tiibingen, where he acquired
great reputation as Lecturer on the Greek and Latin authors. In the
twenty-second year of his age he became Professor of the Greek language and literature at WVittenburg, where he embraced the evangelical
faith, and soon after began those efforts which contributed so much to
the progress of the Reformation. His mildness softened the rigor of
Luther; and his superior scholarship, amiable disposition, gentleness, tenderness, and moderation with the opposite party, made him peculiarly
suitable as a mediator. Melanethon wrote several able works, drew up
the Augsburg Confession, and its celebrated apology, preached, and lectured, and traveled, and labored incessantly, often amid injustice and
abuse, until in the month of April 1560, at Wittenburg, he fell asleep in
Jesus. Melancthon's figure is described as diminutive, and meager from
industry and abstemiousness; but his forehead was high, arched and
open, beneath which his clear, handsome eyes announced an energetic,
lively mind, which lighted up the countenance when he spoke.
A new edition of Melancthon's works complete is given by Bretschneider in his " Corpus Reformatorum," commenced in Halle in 1835.
In his religious discourses plain good sense, extensive erudition and profound piety are prominent characteristics. With little regard, apparently, to rhetorical niceties, he brings forth the treasures of Scriptural
truth in a good, homely manner, and with a sympathetic and paternal
spirit apportions it to the necessities of his hearers. For him the doctrines of Christianity, as he conceived them, were a living and precious
reality; and as such he impressed them on people who thought not of
caviling, but accepted them with believing simplicity, as the indubitable
and entire counsel of God.




THE SECURITY OF GOD'S CHILDREN.                475
We tire not aware that a sermon of Melancthon has ever before been
given to the English reader. The discourse which follows was delivered
in 1550, and breathes the sweet and gentle spirit of its auther
THE SECURITY OF GOD'S CHILDREN.
"Neither shall any pluck them out of My hand. —Jomv, x. 28.
To Thee, almighty and true God, eternal Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all creatures, to.
gether with Thy Son our Lord Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost, to
Thee, the wise, good, true, righteous, compassionate, pure, gracious
God we render thanks that Thou hast hitherto upheld the Church in
these lands, and graciously afforded it protection and care, and we
earnestly beseech Thee evermore to gather among us an inheritance
for Thy Son, which may praise Thee to all eternity.
I have in these our assemblies often uttered partly admonitions
and partly reproofs, which I hope the most of you will bear in mind.
But since I must presume that now the hearts of all are wrung with
a new grief and a new pang by reason of the war in our neighborhood, this season seems to call for a word of consolation. And as
we commonly say, " Where the pain is there one claps his hand," I
could not in this so great affliction make up my mind to turn my
discourse upon any other subject. I do not, indeed, doubt that you
yourselves seek comfort in the Divine declarations, yet will I also
bring before you some things collected therefrom, because always
that on which we had ourselves thought becomes more precious to
us when we hear that it proves itself salutary also to others. And
because long discourses are burdensome in time of sorrow and mourning, I will without delay bring forward that comfort which is the most
effectual.
Our pains are best assuaged when something good and beneficial,
especially some help toward a happy issue, presents itself. All other
topics of consolation, such as men borrow from the unavoidableness
of suffering, and the examples of others, bring us no great alleviation.
But the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ, who was crucified for us
and raised again, and now sits at the right hand of the Father, offers
us help and deliverance, and has manifested this disposition in many
declarations, I will nowv speak of the words, "No man shall pluck




476              PHILIP MELANCTHON.
My sheep out of My hands." This expression has often raised me up
out of the deepest sorrow, and drawn me, as it were, out of hell.
The wisest men in all times have bewailed the great amount of
human misery which we see with our eyes before we pass into eternity-diseases, death, want, our own errors by which we bring harm
and punishment on ourselves, hostile men, unfaithfulness on the part
if those with whom we are closely connected, banishment, abuse,
desertion, miserable children, public and domestic strife, wars, murder and devastation. And since such things appear to befall good
and bad without distinction, many wise men have inquired whether
there were any Providence, or whether accident brings every thing
to pass independently of a Divine purpose. But we in the Church
know that the first and principal cause of human woe is this, that on
account of sin man is made subject to death and other calamity,
which is so much more vehement in the Church, because the devil,
from hatred toward God, makes fearful assaults on the Church and
strives to destroy it utterly. Therefore it is written, "I will put
enmity between the serpent and the seed of the woman." And
Peter says, "Your adversary, the devil, goeth about as a roaring
lion and seeketh whom he may devour."
Not in vain, however, has God made known to us the causes of
our misery. We should not only consider the greatness of our necessity but also discern the causes of it, and recognize His righteous
anger against sin, to the end that we may, on the other hand, perceive the Redeemer and the greatness of His compassion; and as
witnesses to these His declarations He adds the raising of dead men
to life and other miracles.
Let us banish from our hearts, therefore, the unbelieving opinions
which imagine that evils befall us by mere chance, or from physical
causes.
But when thou considerest the wounds in thy own circle of
relations, or dost cast a glance at the public disorders in the State,
which again afflict the individual also (as Solon says, " The general
corruption penetrates even to thy quiet habitation"), then think first
of thy own and others' sins, and of the righteous wrath of God;
and, secondly, weigh the rage of the devil, who lets loose his hate
chiefly in the Church.
In all men, even the better class, great darkness reigns. We see
not how great an evil sin is, and regard not ourselves as so shamefully defiled. We flatter ourselves, in particular, because we profess
a better doctrine concerning God. Nevertheless, we resign ourselves
to a careless slumber, pamper each one his own desires; our impur.




THE SECURITY  OF GOD'S CHILDREN.               477
ity, the disorders of the Church, the necessity of brethren, fills us
not with pain; devotion is without fire and fervor; zeal for doctrine
and discipline languishes, and not a few are my sins, and thine, anc
those of many others, by reason of which such punishments are
heaped upon us.
Let us, therefore, apply our hearts to repentance, and direct our
eyes to the Son of God, in respect to whom we have the assurance
that, after the wonderful counsel of God, He is placed over the family of man, to be the protector and preserver of His Church.
We perceive not fully either our wretchedness or our dangers,
or the fury of enemies, until after events of extraordinary sorrowfUlness. Still we ought to reflect thus: there must exist great need
and a fearful might and rage of enemies, since so powerful a Protector has been given to us, even God's Son. When He says, " No
man shall pluck My sheep out of My hand," He indicates that He is
no idle spectator of our woe, but that mighty and incessant strife is
going on. The devil incites his tools to disturb the Church or the
political commonwealth, that boundless confusion may enter, followed by heathenish desolation. But the Son of God, who holds in
His hands, as it were, the congregation of those who call upon His
name, hurls back the devils by His infinite power, conquers and
chases them thence, and will one day shut them up in the prison of
hell, and punish them to all eternity with fearful pains. This comfort we must hold fast in regard to the entire Church, as well as
each in regard to himself.
If, in these distracted and warring times, we see states blaze up and
fall into ruin, then look away to the Son of God, who stands in the
secret counsel of the Godhead, and guards His little flock, and carries the weak lambs as it were in his own hands. Be persuaded that
by Him thou also shalt he protected and upheld.
Here some, not rightly instructed, will exclaim, " Truly I could
wish to commend myself to such a Keeper, but only His sheep does
He preserve. Whether I also am counted in that flock, I know not."
Against this doubt we must most strenuously contend. For the
Lord Himself assures us in this very passage, that all who "hear
and with faith receive the voice of the Gospel, are His sheep;" and
He says expressly, " If a man love Me, he will keep My words, and
My Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our
abode with him." These promises of the Son of God, which can not
be shaken, we must confidently appropriate to ourselves. Nor
shouldst thou, by thy doubts, exclude thyself from this blessed flock,
which originates in the righteousness of the Gospel. They do not




V78              PHILIP MELANCTHON.
rightly distinguish between the law and the Gospel, who, because
they are unworthy, reckon not themselves among the sheep. Rather
is this consolation afforded us, that we are accepted " for the Son of
God's sake," truly, without merit, not on account of our own righteousness, but through faith, because we are unworthy, and impure,
and far from having fulfilled the law of God. That is, moreover, a
universal promise, in which the Son of God saith, " Come unto Me,
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
The eternal Father earnestly commands that we should hear the
Son, and it is the greatest of all transgressions if we despise Him,
and do not approve His voice. This is what every one should often
and diligently consider, and in this disposition of the Father, revealed through the Son, find grace.
Although, amid so great disturbances, many a sorrowful spectacle
meets thine eye, and the Church is rent by discord and hate, and
manifold and domestic public necessity is added thereto, still let not
despair overcome thee, but know thou that thou hast the Son of
God for a Keeper and Protector, who will not suffer either the
Church, or thee, or thy family, to be plucked out of His hand by the
fury of the devil.
With all my heart, therefore, do I supplicate the Son of God, our
Lord Jesus Christ, who having been crucified for us, and raised
again, sits at the right hand of the Father, to bless men with His
gifts, and to IIim I pray that He would protect and govern this little
church and me therein. Other sure trust, in this great flame when the
whole world is on fire, I discern nowhere. Each one has his separate
hopes, and each one with his understanding seeks repose in something else; but however good that may all be, it is still a far better,
and unquestionably a more effectual consolation to flee to the Son of
God and expect help and deliverance from Him.
Such wishes will not be in vain. For to this end are we laden
with such a crowd of dangers, that in events and occurrences which
to human prudence are an inexplicable enigma, we may recognize
the infinite goodness and presentness of God, in that He, for His
Son's sake, and through His Son, affords us aid, God will be owned
in such deliverance just as in the deliverance of your first parents,
who, after the fall, when they were forsaken by all creatures, were
upheld by the help of God alone. So was the family of Noah in the
flood, so were the Israelites preserved when in the Red Sea they
stood between the towering walls of waters. These glorious examples are held up before us, that we might know, in like manner, the
Church, without the help of any created beings, is often preserved.




THE SECURITY OF GOD'S CHILDREN.               479
Many in all times have experienced such Divine deliverance and
support in their personal dangers, as David saith, " My father and
my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord taketh me up," and in
another place David saith, " He hath delivered the wretched who
hath no helper." But in order that we may become partakers of
these so great blessings, faith and devotion must be kindled within
us, as it stands written, "Verily, I say unto you!"  So likewise
must our faith be exercised, that before deliverance we should pray
for help and wait for it, resting in God with a certain cheerfulness
of soul; and that we should not cherish continual doubt and melancholy murmuring in our hearts, but constantly set before our eyes
the admonition of God, "The peace of God which is higher than all
understanding keep your heart and mind;" which is to say, Be so
comforted in God, in time of danger, that your hearts having been
strengthened by confidence in the pity and presentness of God, may
patiently wait for help and deliverance, and quietly maintain that
peaceful serenity which is the beginning of eternal life, and without
which there can be no true devotion.
For distrust and doubt produces a gloomy and terrible hate toward God, and that is the beginning of the eternal torments, and a
rage like that of the devil.
Now you must guard against these billows in the soul, and these
stormy agitations, and by meditation on the precious promises of
God, keep and establish your hearts.
Truly these times allow not the wonted security and the wonted
intoxication of the world, but they demand that with honest groans
we should cry for help, as the Lord saith, "Watch and pray tbat ye
fall not into temptation," that ye may not, being overcome T1y despair, plunge into everlasting destruction. There is need of wisdom
to discern the dangers of the soul, as well as the safeguard against
them. Souls go to ruin as well when, in epicurean security, they
make light of the wrath of God, as when they are overcome by
doubt and cast down by anxious sorrow, and these transgressions
aggravate the punishment. The godly, on the other hand, who by
faith and devotion keep their hearts erect and near to God, enjoy the
beginning of eternal life, and obtain mitigation of the general distress.
We therefore implore Thee, Son of God, Lord Jesus Christ, who
having been crucified and raised for us, standest in the secret counsel of the Godhead, and makest intercession for us, and hasr said,
"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy lade(, and I will
give you rest." I call upon Thee, and with my whole heart beseech




480              PHILIP MELANCTHON.
Thee, according to Thine infinite compassion, forgive us our sins,
Thou knowest that in our great weakness we are not able to bear the
burden of our woe. DoThou, therefore, afford us aid in our private
and public necessities; be Thou our shade and protector, uphold the
churches in these lands, and all which serves for their defense and
watch-care




DISCOURSE THIRTY-THIRD.
PHILIP JACOB SPEN ER.
SPENER was born in 1635, at Rappolsweiler, in Upper Alsace, and
pursued his theological studies at Strasburg, where he was made Doctor
of Theology in 1666. In the year 1670 he instituted his celebrated Collegia Pietatis, or School of Piety, which, contrary to his will, became the
origin of pietism. From  this time Spener's history is connected with
the great religious movements in Germany to which his example and
writings gave rise. From 1686 to 1691 he was preacher to the Court at
Dresden. From 1691 till the year of his death, 1705, he resided in
Berlin, where he took an active part in the foundation of the University of Halle.
Spener has been compared to Fenelon for his sweet and devoted
spirit, and his pure eloquence. He occupied, in his time, the first rank
as a preacher, and was an excellent Oriental scholar. His published
works are somewhat numerous, among the most important of which
are sixty-six sermons on Regeneration, and a learned and able work on
the Divinity of Christ.
The following condensed discourse is translated from his three ser
mons on "Temptation; Especially on the Suggestion of Evil, Wicked
and Blasphemous Thoughts, with which the Faithful Children of God
have often to Contend." Frankfort, 1673, 4to.
THE TEMPTATIONS OF SATAN.
"And when the tempter came to Him, He said, If Thou be the Son of God, command
that these stones be made bread."-MATT. iv. 3.
This passage may serve to show how the devil commonly seeks
to entice us, as often as we are in distress, to resort to unlawful
means of relief. Let us dwell upon this point. I consider for our
31




482              PHILIP JACOB SPENER.
principal theme, how the devil tempts us to feelings of distrust; so
that when things go ill with us, when we are in distress, peril, and
want, we should lose our confidence in God, and fall into distrust.
The devil is wily in these assaults, and does not make an open
attack, at once betraying his aim, but leads men into such distrust
imperceptibly.
1. He persuades men, or rather strengthens them in the false
impression natural to them, that, from the degree in which we are
prospered in the world, we can best judge how God regards us. If
all is prosperous, God is favorable to us; if adverse, it is a sign that
He is against us and is our enemy. Thus the devil fills the heart
with the love and high estimation of worldly things, so that all depends on these, and the most important consideration is, how we
are situated in respect to outward things. It is saying, Happy is
that people that is prospered; whose garners are full, affording all
manner of store, so that there is no injury, no loss, no complaining
in the streets. With such a conceit Satan has already gained much,
and has prepared the way for the temptation.
2. He makes our distress, danger, and poverty, greater and heavier than it really is. Even when there are natural means which might
bring relief, he hides them from our view. We are left to see no
way to escape from distress, but merely to perceive that there is no
help for us, and that we must perish.
3. When distressing fears come upon us, the devil stirs up our
minds, and instills into them the conceit that all this is contrary to
God's promises. God has promised that He would help us and protect us, and now we find in our experience just the opposite. In
this way the devil seeks to make us doubt the word and promise of
God, to see for ourselves that with us it is not fulfilled, and that,
therefore, the ground of our faith is futile, and that we find ourselves deceived in our expectations. To this state others help to
bring us, when they chime in, as David complains, and say, "Where
now is thy God?" If a man do not resist this temptation, but
yields to the devil by allowing his faith to sink, all is lost: for,
4. He carries him further. Hope in God being lost, other reliances, not to be trusted in, are resorted to.  Such hopes are
innumerable. We see them of all descriptions. Some give themselves up to the devil, and consult familiar spirits, and seek thereby
to gain something, and to ward off poverty. Others apostatize from
the faith, and embrace any religion which best promises to give
them bread. Others make way with themselves by strangling, stab.
bing, or drowning, out of fear that they must otherwise perish of




THE TEMPTATIONS OF SATAN.                  483
hunger. Others resort to theft and plunder. Others rua away,
if they are unsuccessful in their undertakings, and go into the army
without a proper call, and, for want of occupation, serve Satan.
Thinking, as they say, to make their fortune, others forsake their
wives and children because they think they can not support them,
and leave them in wretchedness. Others, because they see that, by
honest and industrious lives, they have not been able to accumulate
much, begin to practice all kinds of fraud and deception for the
sake of gain: receive bribes if they are in office, sell places of trust,
where they ought to appoint only the most competent, and sell justice against their consciences, and in all things seek nothing but their
own profit: neglect official duties, if the performance of them would
prove prejudicial to their interests: show no zeal in public service,
but turn all things to their own account, to win favor and advantage, and to keep off poverty, and to deliver themselves from want.
All this is, so to speak, making bread out of stones, or seeking
the means of support in an improper way. As the devil often
tempts pious Christians to do such things, but finds no listening ear,
so, on the other hand, all is lost to the man who allows himself to
be overcome of the devil, and to be induced to use such means.
For it is thus made certain that his faith is gone, inasmuch as he will
make provision for himself contrary to the will of God. He must
have surrendered his trust in God, although he will not allow it,
but thinks he was driven by necessity, and did it from extreme
want. And yet faith shows that distress should not turn us from
God, but lead us to Him. Such a course is, therefore, an apostasy
from God.
5. The devil has such a man now in his snare to destroy both
body and soul; —the body in regard to worldly things, because the
curse of God generally falls upon such a use of unlawful means.
And because a man has chosen, against God's will, to make bread
out of stones, that is, because with all such evil practices to which
he has suffered himself to be enticed by the devil, he nevertheless
has failed of his object, he is even in his worldly circumstances, a
poor, wretched, and undone creature. If such persons gain any
thing, it slips again out of their hands, and they know not which
way to turn. A present misfortune will take by dollars from former
success, what was in an unjust manner saved by pennies. That
is, they have bread provided, indeed, but it turns to stones in their
mouths, as Solomon says in his Proverbs, "Bread of deceit is sweet
to a man; but afterward his mouth shall be filled with gravel."'Nhat is, it does not answer its purpose. Even when one has suc



484             PHILIP JACOB SPENER.
ceeded and scraped something together, he can not enjoy II; it be
comes, as it were, stones. Bread itself is turned to stone; as literally, by the wonderful providence of God, it is said, that the bread
which was once refused to the poor became stone. Figuratively it
often happens that bread becomes stone. God often orders it so
that he who, in an unjust way and contrary to His will, aims at getting something, not only fails of his object, but by the course of
God must see that which he before had, glide from his possession.
And it is right that this should happen to them. But when God
of His long-suffering looks on, and delays His judgment, a worse
thing is yet to come. For when God sends temporal punishment, it
is sometimes a means of reforming one and bringing him back to
Him; while others pass securely on, enjoying their worldly things
-their bread made of stone-but are thereby still more in Satan's
power; and because they will be his here, and be seduced by him,
they shall be always his, and forever lose the right they once had
of being the children of God.
This is the way, my beloved, in which the devil brings many
through poverty and distress to distrust and to condemnation-a
temptation by which he also here assailed Christ.




DISCOURSE THIRTY.FOURTH.
GEGOR GE JOACHIM ZOLLIKOFER.
THis eminent preacher was born at St. Gall, in Switzerland, August
5th, 1730. His studies were pursued at Frankfort-on-the-Maine, Bremen, and Utrecht. In 1754 he became a clergyman, preaching first at
MIorat, Switzerland, then at Leipsic, Germany, where he died in 1788.
The genius of Zollikofer was of a superior order; and for his accomplishments in oratory and real eloquence he has been likened to Cicero. His
sermons contain many luminous and beautiful conceptions, a happy art
lessness of expression, a cautious use of metaphors, great felicity in the
shaping of his periods, and are fraught with lofty and inspiring sentiments. That which is here given will do justice to his reputation. A
brief prayer precedes it in the original.
THE ENNOBLING NATUIRE OF CHRISTIANITY.
"Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory
and honor."-PsALM viii. 5.
Certain as it is, that man possesses a great intrinsic dignity, and
that the attentive observer can not fail of perceiving it; yet it is no
less certain, that error and vice, superstition and slavery, have greatly
obscured its luster; and that there have been times when the prerogatives and the nobility of man, when his relationship to God, and
his destination to a higher perfection, were scarcely discernible.
Into what a state of weakness, of debility, of degradation, have not
many nations formerly been, and are still sunk  And how much
deeper yet would not mankind have fallen from that dignity, if God
had left them to themselves; if He had put no check to their progressively increasing corruption and misery I But how much has
not God done in this respect for mankind in every age, and in every
nation I How often has He raised up, from among them, souls of a




486         GEORGE JOACHIM  ZOLLIKOFER.
finer and a nobler sentiment, spirits of deeper perceptions, of more
eminent abilities, and more extensive operation; who have been
shining lights in their generation, for inspiring new life and fresh
activity to goodness, into multitudes that were in a dying state, and
for reaching out a hand to sensual men, to lift them above their
sensuality, and bring them nearer to their high vocation I How
much has not God in particular done by His Son Jesus, for the restoration of the human dignity! Was not this the ultimate aim of
the whole of His great work on earth? How much has not God
honored and exalted man by His intimate relationship and connection with His Son, the first-born among all creatures i
And what noble sentiments does not Christianity inspire in its genuine professors! How much does it not extend the circle of their view,
and the sphere of their action I Of what great achievements does it
not render them capable, and how does it not enable all that they think
and do I Certainly, a Christian, who is so in deed and in truth, is he of
all men, in whom the dignity of man is manifested in its brightest lus.
ter, in its most various and most noble effects I 0 my pious hearers I
Could I but cite you all, who bear the name of Christians, as a proof
of it; how superfluous then would all other demonstration be!
Grateful joy at our restored dignity, and mutual encouragement to
preserve it, would then be our sole employment. But we must now
proceed to set the truth of what we affirm concerning the pre-emi.
nent dignity of the Christian, in its true point of view, by other argue
ments drawn from the nature of the case itself. And this shall be
the subject and aim of my present discourse. I will endeavor to
answer the question: How, and by what means, has Christianity rekindled in man the sentiment of his dignity, and strengthened and
aided him in the maintenance of it I
Christianity places our relation toward God in the fullest light,
it teaches us how great an interest God takes in the destinies of man;
and how much He has done, and still is doing for him. It informs
us of the providence and the government of God; of His constant
presence in all places; of His sovereign inspection over all things;
of His influence upon all things; and promises us His particular assistance as often as we stand in need of it. It sets conspicuously before us the dignity of man in the person of Jesus, in His conduct,
and His fortunes; and thereby points out to us what the nature of
man is capable of; and to what degree of perfection it is able to
arrive. It announces to us immortality, everlasting life, a neverending, an always-increasing felicity. It acquaints us with the intimate connection of our present with our future state; and by all




THE ENNOBLING NATURE OF CHRISTIANITY. 487
these means promotes the sentiment and the restoration of the dignity of man.
1. First, I say Christianityplacs our relation toward God in the
clearest light; thus causing man to feel his dignity, and enabling him
to maintain it. Is man to imagine himself the work of blind chance,
or a son of the earth in the strictest sense of the word?  May he
boast of no other origin than that of the plants? Is he sprung, like
the insects, from foulness and corruption? Could he not elevate his
mind into the belief and contemplation of a sovereign Deity, or
were not this Deity known to him as the Creator of the world, as the
Father of mankind, of how little value would his existence and his
nature be In his own sight I What is more insignificant than a freak
of chance, which destroys to-morrow  what it produced to-day;
which never acts by design and rule, and is perpetually at variance
with itself! What is more worthless and uncertain than the existence of a heap of dust, in this form or that, which being nothing but dust, must, sooner or later, be wholly decomposed, and fall
forever into the ground I And were not these the degrading conceptions, formed by numbers of the wise and the unwise among the
heathens, concerning man and his origin?
How totally different is the instruction which Christianity gives
us. It proclaims aloud to each of its professors: God, the Only, the
Eternal, the Supremely Perfect, is thy Creator and Father, as well as
the Creator of all the hosts of heaven, and of all the inhabitants of
the earth. It was neither chance nor fate. No; supreme wisdom
and goodness called thee into being, gave thee life and breath, and
all thingsl Thou art no earth-born creature!  Thou art the son,
the daughter of God, of the Most High! Thou art of Divine descent,
formed after the image of God, capable of communion, and of an
ever-greater similitude, with him 1 Thou art not altogether dust,
only thy present tabernacle is dust; the spirit that inhabits it is exalted far above the dust; is ordained to important, to grand designs;
and depends not more on chance for its duration than its production,
but upon the will of Him who loves thee as a father, and assuredly
desires not to destroy the work of His hands I And the God who
has formed thee, is likewise thy preserver, thy sovereign, thy inspector, thy judge, and hereafter will be thy rewarder.
If man, then, stand in such regard toward God; if be be so intimately connected with the being supremely perfect, with the Creator
and Ruler of the world; if he be His child, His peculiarly beloved
and favored child, what a value should not this give him in his own
eyes I Hcw far exalt his nature above all inferior species of crea



488        GEORGE JOACHIM  ZOLLIKOFER.
tures! What sentiments inspire within him of his dignity I How could
he boast of his descent from God, and of his fellowship with Him, were
he to degrade himself by unworthy sentiments and actions? How
can he assert the honor of being formed after the image of God, if
he be not adorned with wisdom and virtue? How recollect his connection with God, the pure eternal fount of light, and yet walk in
larkness?
2. Christianity teaches us, further, how great an interest God takes
in the concerns of man; and how much he has done and still does
for him. And what an exalted idea does this give us of our dignity I
How strongly it urges us to the maintenance of it I According to
the doctrine of Christianity, we are not the creatures of a God who
takes no care of his beings, and leaves them to themselves; not the
offspring of a father who disowns His children, who does not concern
Himself about them, and is indifferent to their happiness and their
misery. No; never has God, according to that comfortable doctrine,
left Himself unwitnessed to man; never withdrawn from him His
fatherly providence and love; never abandoned the fortunes of His
feeble, helpless, untutored children, to blind chance or to their own
ignorance. No; from their first progenitor, to his latest posterity, has
He Himself provided for their support, their instruction, their guidance, their education, their progress to higher attainments. He has
constantly revealed Himself to them in various ways; constantly
shed innumerable benefits on them; sometimes lovingly correcting,
and sometimes bountifully blessing them; has constantly been nigh
to them, and has left them in want of no means for becoming wiser
and better.
When has He withheld His fructifying influence from nature?
WVhen denied His superior energies to the human spirit? When
withdrawn from it the incitements, the strongest incitements to its
development and proficiency?  When has such darkness covered
the earth, or even any region of it, as not one ray of light has
broken in upon and illuminated it?  When did such universal coiruption prevail upon it, that nothing happened to check or to control
it? How often has He not sent wise and good men as His delegates
to their brethren? How frequently has His providence, by various
ways, united brighter regions with those that lay in darkness, mixed
enlightened persons among the raw untutored people, and the best
with the worst of men! How full of wisdom and goodness were
not his dealings with the posterity of Jacob, the education He gave
them, and through them to so many other nations I And hpw muoh,
[low inexpressibly much, has He not done at length for man by His




THE ENNOBLING NATURE OF CHRISTIANITY. 489
Son Jesus! What a teacher of truth, what a safe and sure guide in
the way of virtue and happiness, what a mighty helper and deliverer,
what an affectionate Lord and King has He not given them in Him I
What revelations of His will, what assurances and proofs of His
favor and love, what promises and views of futurity, what comfort,
what new powers has He not sent down to them from heaven, by
His representative I
And shall man, for whom God cares and provides so much; shall
man, for whom He has done and still does so great things; shall
man, for whose sake God spared not even His Son, the only-begotten,
for whom He gave His son, the beloved, to suffer death: shall this
man be a contemptible, an insignificant creature? not be of great
worth? not have a pre-eminent dignity? not feel this dignity? and
not be happy in the sentiment of it whenever he meditates thereon;
whenever he considers how much he is esteemed of God, how
graciously God is disposed toward him, and with what paternal tenderness He cares for him? Cause and effect, means and end, are in
the closest connection with the Allwise; and that on which He
vouchsafes such peculiar inspection and providence must certainly
be, either in itself and its nature, or in its destination, grand and important.
3. Yet more: Christianity places, thirdly, the doctrine of Divine
providence and government in the clearest light. It proclaims to us the
constant presence of God with all things, His supreme inspection
over all, His influence in all, and promises us His particular assistance as often as we have occasion for it. And how much must this
too cause a man to feel his dignity I How forcibly should it urge
him to the maintenance of it! By this doctrine, all that a man does
and all that befalls him, every thing that happens in the world,
wears another aspect, and becomes of more importance than it otherwise would. These doctrines spread the clearest light on every thing
that otherwise would be mysterious in the state and fortunes of man,
or must lower him in his own eyes. To be left to himself, without
the superintendence of a Supreme Ruler, without the conduct and
guidance of an almighty and beneficent Father; placed upon so
changeable and so perplexed a scene; subject to so many dangers;
exposed to all the fickleness of chance, every attack of artifice and
iniquity; without refuge in adversity, without assistance in perils;
how weak, how miserable, how contemptible, would not man appear
to himselfl How often would he be tempted to envy the condition
of the beasts of the field I
But now, enlightened by the light of Christianity, how may not




490          GEORGE JACOB ZOLLIKOFER.
his spirit exult I With what serenity, what courage, what confidence,
must he not now be inspired I What design, what consistency, what
order, do not now appear where all before seemed confusion, contradiction, and open strife I The Christian may now hold this language
to himself: God the Omnipotent, the All-bountiful, rules my lot, the
lot of all mankind, and all worlds; He comprehends all, oversees all,
directs and conducts all, the small as well as the great, the evil as
well as the good. In His hand are all animate and inanimate creatures, all causes aud powers, and without His will no atom can
change its place, no hair fall from off my head, no man do me harm,
no loss, no misfortune attend me; and all that He wills and ordains
is right and good, is constantly the best. He sees in the clearest
light, where profound darkness envelops me. He provides for me
where I can find nothing to procure; and makes that to be the means
of my perfection and happiness which I thought calamity and distress. He, the Almighty, the All-bountiful, is constantly nigh to me
with His help; is acquainted with all my wants; hears all my sighs;
manifests His strength in my weakness; guides and conducts me by
His Spirit; executes His decrees on earth by me; and is ever ready
to do more in us and by us than we are able to ask or think. He,
the Omnipotent, the Omnipresent, is every where with me and
about me. He knows my heart, is the infallible witness of all I think
and do; He sees in secret, and will reward that openly which was
done in private. His judgment is pure righteousness and truth; His
approbation is ever certain to the sincere; and His approval is of infinitely more value than all the applause of the world, than all the
possessions and all the glories of the earth.
And man, who believes such a providence, who thus walks under
the inspection of God, who thus acts in His presence, who may esteem
himself His instrument, a means to the attainment of His designs;
how sublime must his destination, how important must his work
appear to him I How strong must he not feel himself in the assurance of Divine support I What good actions will he not find power
and resolution to do, under the eyes of His father and judge I How
generously, how nobly will he not think and act, even in the absence of all human witnesses, when destitute of all human approbation, and even amid the ingratitude of the world! How undis.
mayed, with what serenity will he not behold the revolutions and
subversions that may happen in the world and among mankindl
How tranquil and confident will he lift up his eyes on high, in rev.
erence to God, as the kind and wise ruler, the father of him and the
whole creation I




THE ENNOBLING NATURE OF CHRISTIANITY. 491
4. Christianity displays clearly to us, in the fourth place, the dignity
of man in the person of Jesus, its Restorer and Chief; in His conduct
and the circumstances of His life; and teaches us therein, in a no less
comprehensible than incontrovertible manner, what human nature is
capable of, and to what height of perfection it may ascend. Yes, my
pious brethren, in Jesus, who is our relation, our brother, whose life
is so indissolubly connected with our lives, whose fortunes so insep.
arably united to ours, in Him our dignity appears in all its purity,
in its perfect splendor. What wisdom, what virtue, what piety, did he
not display I What love toward God and man did not animate Him I
What did He not perform I and how pure, how beneficent were all
His views in whatever He did I What did He not endure; and
how willingly, how steadfastly, how piously, did He exercise His
patience I What condescensions, what sacrifices, what uninterrupted
obedience to His heavenly Father, what indefatigable zeal and beneficence, what unbated progress toward the end of His high calling,
did He not manifest during the whole course of His life on earth I
What temptations were ever able to conquer Him? what wrongs
could irritate Him? what dangers alarm Him? what difficulty dis.
courage, or what sufferings make Him impatient? And to what
a pitch of power, of honor, of glory, by all this did He not attain I
How great, how immensely great, is now His sphere of action I How
illustrious is humanity, now exalted to the right hand of the Father l
How should not now, and how should not hereafter, every knee
submissively bow to Him our Chief, and every tongue confess that
He is Lord, to the glory of God the Father I
Acknowledge, here, O man, the dignity of thy nature I Here
feel what thou, as man, mayest do; what thou mayest endure; what
thou mayest withstand;' to what a height thou hast power and capacity to raise thyself as man I Feel the whole value of the privilege whereby God has honored man, in the person of his Chief and
Restorer I That Jesus, who is now exalted far above all, who so
widely rules and acts, is flesh of thy flesh; is thy brother; was a man
like thee; was tempted as thou art, was acquainted with grief like
thee; and entered into glory through obedience and sufferings!
What exercises and trials can now affright thee? what conflicts dis.
may thee? what sacrifice cost thee too much? what difficulties stop
thee in thy course? what pitch of wisdom and virtue, what degree
of felicity, can now seem unattainable to thee? Look at Him, thy
Leader and Chief; tread in His footsteps, and strive to emulate His example. Through Him thou mayest do all things, with Him rise supe.
rior to all things, with Him prevail and triumph, and hereafter behold




492           GEORGE JACOB ZOLLIKOFER.
and enjoy the glory which the Father has bestowed on Him, and in
Him on all mankind who assert the dignity of their nature I
5. Lastly, Christianity has revived in man the sentiment of his dignity,
and given him the most powerful incitements to attain to it, by the grand
doctrine of immortality and everlasting life, which it places in the most
conspicuous light, and has connected in the closest manner with
what we are and do, and all that happens to us. Though nman possessed ever so great privileges over the beasts of the field; though
he felt in himself ever so great powers and faculties for the noblest
undertakings; though he could bring ever so much to pass, and execute ever so much good; how little would all this appear to him,
if these privileges, these powers, these faculties, this noble activity,
were to be lost to him in a few extremely uncertain, quickly-fleeting
years: if he were to be deprived of them all forever by death: if
he were to expect no fruit from all he has here learned, and done,
and suffered, and sacrificed, and practiced I How little nourishment
for his nobler sentiments; how little incitement to great and generous actions, to hard but beneficial undertakings; what poor encouragement to unremitting endeavors after perfection, would man find
in his present situation, if death were the period of his existence;
if the grave and corruption were the result of all his hopes and exertions I How foolish would not the generality of his sacrifices to
integrity and virtue appear; and how wise the saying of the fool:
" Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die 1"
But now, enlightened by the bright beams of the Gospel, animated by the hope of a blessed immortality, how totally different is
the case with man I What a sentiment of his dignity, of his grandeur, of his future exaltation, must it not awaken in him, when he
can say to himself: I live, I think, I labor, I endure, I suffer, I exercise myself for ETERNITY I My present state is only a prelude to the
future I My future state, the continuation and reward of the present! Whatever I do here draws consequences, unterminating consequences, after it I The worthy and generous actions that I now
perform, will still rejoice and bless me after thousands and millions
of years I The light which I here spread around me, will enlighten
me and my brethren beyond the grave I The good of every kind
I here effect in others, and by their means, will continue in operation from everlasting to everlasting, and be ever producing more
good in infinite progression; and all that here befalls *me has an
influence on my future destination forever! That which now
oppresses me, and which the world calls misfortune and distress,
may be to me the inexhaustible source of pleasure and bliss in




VIHE ENNOBLING NATURE OF CHRISTIANITY. 493
future. The violence I now do to myself, the hardships, the sor
rows I now endure for the love of God and of my fellow creatures, work together for my everlasting good. What can I volun.
tarily surrender for the sake of God and my conscience for which
I shall not receive an hundredfold? What give to my brethren,
from a truly Christian heart, that I shall not hereafter receive again
with usury? What sacrifice to my duty that will not be amply re
paid? Nay, the more I here bestow, the more shall I there receive,
and the more I shall have to bestow again. The further I here proceed in knowledge, in wisdom, and in virtue, the faster then shall I
advance from one degree of perfection and happiness to another;
the nearer shall I approach to Jesus, my Chieftain and Lord, and
through Him to God supreme. Here I learn to be, and to do, and
to enjoy, what in that superior life I shall more perfectly be, and do,
and enjoy. Here is the time for sowing, for planting, for working,
for fighting; there the time of harvest, of enjoyment, of repose, of
triumph!
No: my existence is not confined to this fleeting moment I It
will continue forever! My activity is not bounded by the narrow
circle in which I now live and move; it will be ever enlarging, ever
becoming more extensive and diversified. My intellectual powers
are not subject to dissolution and decay like dust: they shall continue in operation and effect forever; and the more I exert them
here, the better I employ them, the more I effect by them, so much
better shall I use them in the future world; so much the more shall
I there effect by them. I see before me an incessant enlargement of
my sphere of sight and action, an incessant increase in knowledge,
in virtue, in activity, in bliss. The whole immensity of God's creation, the whole unnumbered host of intelligent, thinking beings, all
the hidden treasures of wisdom and knowledge in Jesus Christ, the
unfathomable depths of Divine perfection-what noble employments,
what displays of my powers, what pure joys, what everlasting progress, do not these afford to my expectations!
And, with such prospects, with such expectations, must I not
feel myself great, not feel myself happy? Can I fail of seeing my
relationship with superior beings, my fellowship with Christ, my
communion with God? With such prospects, with such expecta,
tions, shall I degrade myself by folly and sin; by folly and sln
leave my high destination? With such prospects, with such ex.
pectations, shall I ever be discouraged and weary in doing acts of
justice and mercy? shall I ever lose sight of the glorious mark that
shines before me? shun any honorable exertion of my faculties 




494          GEORGE JACOB ZOLLIKOFER.
complain of any sacrifice that I offer to God and my ccnscience? let
any opportunity escape of sowing good seed, and of increasing the
abundance of my future harvest?
With such prospects, with such expectations, shall I be terrified
at any misfortune, or tremble at the sight of death and the grave?
Can then misfortune, or death, or the grave destroy me? Are mis.
ortune, and death, and the grave any thing but the means and the
way to a higher life and greater felicity? No; let every exercise
of my powers, every opportunity of doing good, be welcome to me I
Let every misfortune that makes me wiser and better be blessed by
me; and the summons of death-let it be to me a summons to enter
on a better life I 0, my pious brethren, if we so think and so actand so we may and ought to think as Christians-how luminous,
how important are all things to us I What a value does all that we
are, and all that we do, and all that happens to us, receive from
hence I How operative, how effective in us, must the sentiment of
our dignity be I
Wouldst thou then feel and assert thy dignity, 0 man I Wouldst
thou display it in all its luster? Then be a Christian, be -wholly a
Christian; be wholly animated by the sense and spirit of Christian.
ity. Believe its doctrines with thy whole heart; follow its precepts
with fidelity and fortitude; firmly repose on its promises; frame
thyself entirely on its founder, Jesus I The spirit of Christianity
will free thy soul from every base sentiment, every unworthy desire
It will elevate thy mind, enlarge thy heart, make thee feel thy powers,
and ever transmit thee new. It will raise thee above all that is
visible and earthly; will constantly give thee a greater resemblance
to Jesus, the pattern of all human perfection; and constantly unite
thee more intimately with God.
Animated by the spirit of Christianity, thou wilt justly esteem
every faculty, every talent, every power that God hath given thee;
carefully incite and exert them, and constantly produce as much
good by them as thou canst. Informed by the spirit of Christianity,
thou wilt never act like a slave; never allow thyself to be governed
by any sensual appetite, or any unruly passion; thou wilt not cringe
with servility before any mortal; thou wilt constantly think and act
with generosity and freedom. Animated by the spirit of Christian.
ity, thou wilt ever be more active, more indefatigable in goodness;
wilt never be weary in striving ounward, and contending for the prize
that awaits the conqueror. Ani mated by the spirit of Christianity,
thou wilt already in this mortality, think and act like an immortal;
and wilt perform a thousand acts of goodness, and enjoy a thousand




THE ENNOBLING NATURE OF CHRISTIANITY. 495
comforts, which he can neither perform nor enjoy who is unmindful
of his immortality, or can not rejoice therein. 0 how exalted and
Divine is the spirit of Christianity I the spirit of wisdom and power,
of love and felicity I May its animating influence quicken, warm,
and enliven us all I May it rouse us to the noblest sentiments of
ourselves, inspire us with godlike energy, with the most active zeal
in goodness, and penetrate and warm us with love toward Gcd and
man! How great, how illustrious will then our dignity be; and
how much greater and more illustrious will it become, from one
period of our lives to another, and from eternity to eternity I




DISCOURSE  THIRTY-FIFTH,.
JOHN GODFREY VON HERDER.
HERDER was born August 25th, 1744, at Mohrungen, a small town
in Eastern Prussia, where his father taught a school for girls. After
pursuing his studies, and acting as instructor in Frederick's College, he
was appointed, in 1764, assistant teacher of the Cathedral School at
Riga, where, as instructor and preacher, he acquired great popularity.
In 1771 he became court preacher, Superintendent and Consistorial Counselor, at Biickeburg, and in October, 1776, entered upon the duties
of the same office at Weimar. He died in 1803. In 1819 a tablet of
cast iron was placed on his grave by royal authority, with the words
Licht, Liebe, Leben-Light, Love, Life.
Herder is said to have been a model of virtue, and Christian activity.
Germany is greatly indebted to him for valuable works in almost every
department. Few authors have done more to form its national taste.
His works were published in 1806, in forty-five volumes, octavo, in Tibingen, and later, an edition was issued in sixty small 12mo volumes.
Herder's " Geist der Ilebrdischen Poesie," or Spirit of Hebrew Poetry,
is held in the highest estimation I oth in Europe and in America. It was
translated in this country many years ago, but is now entirely out of
print.
The style of Herder is pure and correct. He possessed a poetic fancy,
and wrote some charming songs; his "Cid" is one of the most popular
poems in Germany. His sermons are characterized by solid thought, a
chaste and lofty style of eloquence, and a deep religious spirit. That
which follows was preached in 1769, and is taken from volume ix, x,
small edition, of Stuttgart and Tiibingen, 1828. The translator pro.
nounces it "a magnificent discourse, itself worth the book which is
to contain it." Its exalted views of the character of the Holy Scriptures,
its happy refutation of many of the foolish objections brought against
their Divine origin, and its judicious and timely hints as to the manner
of their profitable perusal, are the more grateful and valuable as they
emanate from the land where loose opinions as to the Divine revelation
have so generally prevailed.




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 497
THE  DIVINITY  AND  RIGHT  USE  OF THE BIBLE.
There is no cardinal doctrine in the whole scheme of Christian
truth which has been wont to awaken such deep, sequestered
doubts, and which has been subjected to such misuse, as that which
treats of the Holy Scriptures.
We all go by the name of Christians. By this we profess that
we accept a revelation of God through Christ; that the simple light
of nature does not suffice to procure for us perfect peace of mind;
that we regard the Bible as the fulfillment, or as the supplement to
this light; that we recognize what it says to be Divine throughout;
that we therefore believe in it, conduct ourselves suitably to it, and
through the promises which this Divine book imparts both for this life
and the future, expect to become certainly and truly blessed. All
this is included in the name of Christian; for Christ has gounded
His revelation upon the Old Testament, and has instituted the
New through the agency of His followers. We become Christians
simply from the fact that we take the Bible as the Word of God to
man, as the fountain-source of our religious truths, and religious
duties, and religious hopes, according to which we believe, live, and
await the future.
Meanwhile there are yet those, concealed under the mantle of
the Christian name, who, in reference to this cardinal doctrine of
our religion, are any thing but Christians. In some, there spring up
so many secret doubts respecting the truth of the Bible; among others,
there prevail so many practical heresies in regard to its use, that it
would be indeed a rare sight to witness the real opinions of each one
on this point openly disclosed. I say some cherish doubts, but only
with this difference, that many do not wish to cherish them, and
turn a deaf ear upon every discrediting suggestion; they would fain
imprison their reason, and suppress each skeptical thought which
rises; while others, on the contrary, utter their doubts freely. No
wit is to them more welcome than a scoff at the Bible, no jest
more pleasing than that which casts ridicule upon this holy book.
Both these classes of persons merit attention; only the one frcm
sympathy and interest, the other from pity and contempt. I am not
pleased that any one should bring himself into such a condition as
forcibly to resolve not to feel the doubt which yet he feels; as to suppress with violence the objection which still comes up, although it
may as yet be but half thought out; this were a useless imprisonment of the understanding, a very dangerous triumph over one's
32




498          JOHN  GODFREY VON HERDER.
self, yea, a very torment to our being. One such doubt, like a piece of
floating cork, as often as it is plunged violently down below the surface, springs back as violently, and we come in the end to imagine that
such doubts are actually inexplicable, because we either would not
or could not explain them. It is therefore, indeed, a sacred duty
which we owe to ourselves to be careful in this respect, and at once
to give ear rightly to all such indistinct voices, and to hearken earnestly, both to what they say, and to what may be urged in reply —to
what we must believe, and to what we must object. All this must
we at once bring before our minds, with all uprightness of soul. impartiality of feeling, and earnestness of deliberation.
The other class of doubters are crude and bold. What they have
never rightly reflected upon by themselves, this they bring up in the
hearing of others; and what they were not perhaps capable of considering with earnestness and force, this they deride with their
wretched wit. Wit and sorry ridicule in matters of religion are always
attended with very evil consequences. They sort so very rarely with
mature, cool reason, and calm consideration, that they always rather
displace these qualities, just in proportion as they prevail in the soul.
The more habituated a person becomes to the reading and utterance
of mere witticisms, the more does he incapacitate himself for sober
deliberation. At every turn derisive mirth steps in with its laughing
mien. It throws itself athwart the path of investigation, and cuts
up such a series of antics that we are entirely turned aside from our
course. We try once more to reflect, but the jest returns; we
laugh again, let go inquiry, and never attain to the knowledge of
the truth. Is it not scandalous thus to spice one's conversation with
these derisive doubts, thereby to lead astray the souls of others, and rob
honest hearts of their rest? Is it not base thus to make the inquiry
after truth difficult and impossible for impartial spirits?  And how
shall such conduct be met? Must we not encounter it? And yet, can
this be done without a feeling of contempt? Oh, would ye, who
carry so many witty jests against religion and the Bible ever on your
tongue, would ye be free thinkers indeed, true philosophers, rational
inquirers, ye would not be whispering your doubts in the ears of
all the world. Rather, were ye earnest for the truth, ye would shut
them up in the stillness of your own bosoms; and in solitude search,
even with tears, after the truth in regard to a matter so momentous.
There is another misuse of the Bible, yet more manifold and general in its kind. How few there.are to be found, who, without
superstition or stupid thoughtlessness, make all the use of this holy
book which they ourrbt and are able to make I How few who use it




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 499
altogether to the improvement of their souls, to the quickening of
their spirits, and for instruction in the truth I How few, who, with
this book in their hands, can go before the throne of God in order to
be judged by it, and by every word of it
Thou merciful One! Thou Friend of man I Art Thou He whose
voice I hear in this book, and whose word, by means of it, echoes
lown out of Thy mysterious dwelling-places here into the seat of
my weakness? Art Thou He, O God, who appeared to Moses in
Sinai and Horeb, and in the time of Solomon filled the temple with
His glory, and in Christ enlightened the world, and hast now trans.
lated Him to Thine own right hand, and in Him wilt Thou appear to
judge the world? Art Thou He, O God, who hast given me this
book as the direction of my faith, as the rule of my life, as the
ground of my hopes, as the statute-book whereby Thou wilt judge
me?  Here stands a creature before Thee, blind and ignorant,
but perchance sincere; corrupt perhaps, but not stiff-necked; he
stands before Thee, and opens to Thee the very depths of his soul.
Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth; but convince me also that
it is Thou that speakest. All-knowing-one, Thou seest that, not in
boldness and confidence do I implore the wonders of Thy love.
Holy Father, may a creature that has often struggled with himself
supplicate Thee for Thy grace and compassion? Wilt Thou hear
the voice of a wretched one who, with Thy book of revelation, appears before Thee asking for the enlightenment and the confirmation
of his soul? Verily, 0 God, Thou art near him who seeks after truth.
" For whatever things were written aforetime were written for our
learning," etc. Rom. xv. 4-13.
Our text furnishes abundant material for our purpose, as it instructs us upon the truth of the Bible revelation. It assures us of
the truth of the Old Testament (v. 8). It explains to us the form in
which the Christian religion appeared in the world and was built
up so wonderfully upon the Jewish religion (v. 8); but that this re
ligion was to be a religion for the world and for all nations (v. 9-12);
that it therefore was the first duty of Christianity to be of one heart
and mind, not contentious in -opinions, not full of hate in life (v. 6-7);
that it was the aim of the Bible not to support conflicting parties, but
to serve for doctrine, and comfort, and consolation (v. 8); and it
concludes with a wish which should also confirm our discourse.
We propose, therefore, to rescue the faith of Christians in a Di.
vine revelation, as well from any doubts of the human heart, as from
the manifold misuse of this revelation.




500         JOHN GODFREY VON HERDER.
" How can that be the word of God," it is said-" a series of
God's thoughts to man, where I discern so much that is human?
where there is so much that is insignificant and worthless, which,
I can hardly deem worthy of the highest Godhead? where there is
so much concerning a miserable nation with its kings, and generations, and ceremonies, when it purports to be a revelation for the
whole world? where so much on the weightiest topics which I would
gladly know is left out, and so much that is useless fills its place?
where such a strain, sometimes of monstrous and often unworthy
images, sometimes of confused precepts, sometimes of unsupported
promises, sometimes of unimportant narratives, appears, that, in listening for the voice of God one hardly knows where to begin and
where to end? where the character of each particular age in
which a book is written, and of each particular author by whom it
is written, is so manifest even to his very temperament, his failings,
his ignorance, that I seem every where to hear ignorant Jews speaking, but nowhere the voice of the all-knowing God? where much
is so enigmatical, that from the beginning, through all centuries of
Christianity, new strifes have ever arisen as to how this or that word
should be understood, how this or that verse should be explained,
and how this or that truth should be conceived? where these hundreds
of parties have each been willing to bear testimony, almost unto
death, in behalf of their own opinions, and yet each one has referred
to the Bible-to the dark ambiguous Bible-as to the voice of God
which has sounded forsooth in His ears alone? How, it is asked, can
that in any way be called a Divine book for the human race, which
bears so many tokens of a low, pitiful origin?"
I have, my hearers, here adduced much that is severe against the
Bible; but yet not so much as many mad and wicked people have uttered. But with all this, nothing has been said which can hold its place
for a moment, in the estimation of an impartial, fervent lover of
truth. Very desirable would it be if we could take up all the hard
charges which we have just heaped together like great stones, and put
them singly to the test; but this would be a task too great for the few
moments which I have here to occupy. I must, therefore, abide only
by generalities, aiming merely to stop up the fountain out of which all
particular doubts do flow. I will give you, as it were, a history of
the biblical books, from which, if we are only observant and honest,
each particular doubt will obtain its own natural solution.
1. Now what do we mean, my hearers, when we call the Bible
the word of God? Do we mean that these are just God's thoughts,
which He thinks upon this and that subject?  Is it that He so




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 50,j
speaks with Himself? that this is His mode of conception? Is this
what we mean? Not the least in the world. With God, the Allknowing and perfect One, it is all one thought-He thinks without words, without a series of reflections-He thinks all things from
the center outward, and not simply as we think them from the
outside. We learn every thing through the senses, and therefore,
know them from without, from the surface, from one side. We
learn first to think by means of speech, and from our youth up we
repeat the words of others, and so think according to them. All
general truths, all abstract propositions, all deliberations of the understanding can be entertained only through words. We speak
with ourselves while we think; we reason with ourselves while we
speak. But with God there is nothing of all this. He knows nothing of that weakness which demands words for thoughts; He
thinks without the husks of words, without meager confusing
symbols, without any series of conceptions or classes of ideas. With
Him all is one single, perfect thought.
Every one, who has understood me, sees that the Bible is not
called "The word of God" in the sense that it is a series of such
thoughts as God speaks with Himself, for God speaks not. Or as if
it were the dialect of the gods and of heaven, as the heathen called
that of their poets; for God has properly for Himself no words with
which He must reckon as with counters, and teach Himself as with
ciphers. And how nugatory now becomes the charge which is drawn
from the lowliness of the words in which God is said to have revealed Himself. Thou fool! so far as it pertains to God Himself,
even the highest, the most majestic, the most significant words are
for Him, imperfection. They may be crutches on which we, limited
men, can hobble along; but the Deity, who is all thought, needs
them not. They are the tokens of our imperfection: and wilt Thou
lend them to the perfect God? Thou wilt listen to His thoughts,
and what words are worthy of expressing them? Thou fool I before
God there is no word, no speech worthy of Him.
2. Now if we suppose that God wished to reveal Himself to man,
and yet otherwise than in His essential nature, how else could He do
it but by human agency? How can He speak to man otherwise?
to imperfect men, otherwise than in the imperfect, defective language in which they can understand Him, and to which they are
accustomed? I use far too inadequate a comparison for our purpose,
when I say that a father speaks to a child only in a childish way; for
between them both there still exists a relationship. Father and child
are yet both akin, who can think no otherwise than by words, and




502         JOHN GODFREY VON HERDER.
have a common language of reason. But between God an  men
there is no correspondence; they have, as it were, nothing at all in
common as a basis of mutual understanding. God must, therefore,
explain Himself to men altogether in a human way, according to
our own mode and speech, suitably to our weakness and the narrowness of our ideas; he can not speak like a God, he must speak altogether like a man.
Had this been considered, how could men have pried into so
many useless subtleties connected with this subject-into mysteries
and things which they absolutely could not understand? Let us
take, for example, the history of the creation. The wisest, most
learned, most experienced physiologists, if they are honest, have
readily and openly acknowledged, that they have not even advanced
so far as to be able to conceive how it is possible for a material
body to exist; much lest-how it comes into existence; and more
than all is it impossible for them to conceive how a Spirit exists
according to its inmost essence-what it is, and how it comes into
existence. And if this is a matter absolutely inconceivable for man,
in what way can he comprehend how a world, which was not, should
be; that a world of living spirits should come into existence and
continue, and that each one should in himself enjoy the whole world,
and each thing in it be a world?  What human understanding
can comprehend this when it is so difficult for us even to seize it
in our imaginations? What human speech can express it? How
must God, therefore, in His own revelation concerning the crea.
tion, have been constrained to stoop far lower to our apprehensions,
than we do when speaking with children! And what foolish children
are we if we rack our brains about that which is not at all for us
to comprehend, and which God could not have revealed to us, with
out our ceasing to be sensuous men and becoming as gods! And
how wretched, therefore, are all our subtle queries and doubtings
upon this subject, when we undertake to solve the origin of the
world out of nothing, and speculate respecting time and eternity-how
they separate themselves, and flow into each other; respecting the
destruction and the end of the world; respecting the mode of the
Trinity in God and His operations out of Himself; respecting the
essence of human souls and of all spirits; and on these subjects
wrangle and charge each other with heresy, and thereon oppose or
mangle the Scriptures, when we should rather acknowledge that concerning all this we can know nothing, conceive nothing I
Vastly would our difficulties diminish were we to contemplate
the most distinguished truths of the Christian religion according to




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 503
the above rule. How many of our subtle speculations would btc cut
short at a stroke, and how many unnecessary doubts and scruples
would then drop away I Why, for example, why should it hinder
me from being a Christian because I can not comprehend with my
reason the nature of the Trinity? I can not even comprehend al
the powers of my own soul, how they work in common, and even
co-exist: and how, then, will it profit my life, or promote my wel
fare, to prosecute an inquiry into matters not at all pertaining to
man?  Why, for example, should it puzzle me to know in what
way the merits of Christ were regarded by God; whether as an actual ransom and satisfaction which cancels the sins of the world, or
only as the means of reforming a whole sinful world, in order
that, by its reformation, it might become reconciled with Him?
In either view are Christ's merits an offering; and in either view is
it something which it will profit us little to explore. It is a relation
between God and man. How can I then make it out? Sufficient for
me if I know thus much-that on account of Christ I am not at all
absolved from virtue, nevertheless, if I am truly pious and sincere,
consolation is really offered to me: and that for the whole world,
whose citizen I am, one such offering has been brought. To ascertain the mode of redemption further than this, is nothing which at
all concerns man; therefore it is no object for human inquiry.
Again, why should it rack my brains to know how the Spirit
works in my soul? It is sufficient that He works only through my
thoughts; that He can not work in me except through moral convictions and motives-this I feel. I will therefore aim to enlighten my
understanding and improve my heart —this for me is sufficient.
Lower than this I can not look into the depths of my being, and I
see not how any human language can express what our inmost sen
sations do not discover.
In the truths of religion, this, therefore, is the chief point for
consideration, viz., how far does the knowledge of them pertain to
man? Can I comprehend them by means of my nature? And if
this be impossible, why should I speculate upon the methods in
which the Deity has thought best to reveal them to me? Even on
this point, my hearers, our best course is to cultivate the soul, to set
ourselves in the ways of God; here also is the fear of the Lord
and reverence for His revelation the beginning of wisdom.
3. If God has revealed Himself to men, how could He do it
otherwise than in the speech and forms of thought belonging to the
people, the region of country, and the period of time to which His
voice was made known? Now it is obvious that the modes of




504          JOHN  GODFREY VON HERDER.
thought and of expression are not the same in all nations, and still
less in all ages. The Oriental expresses himself differently from the
inhabitant of a colder clime; he has an entirely different world
around him; he has gathered in his soul a treasure of entirely different conceptions; and through the training of nature around him,
has acquired an entirely different tendency, tone, and form of spirit,
from the inhabitant of the North or the West; and this difference
extends throughout, from his physiognomy and dress, even unto
the most subtle and hidden workings of his spirit, in the broadest
manner conceivable. This point is too well known and avowed for
me to enlarge upon it here.
Now this religion has been revealed in an eastern land; how
then could it be revealed except in a manner intelligible to Orientals,
and consequently in those forms of thought prevalent among them?
Otherwise God would have failed entirely in His object. Our Bible,
therefore, carries upon every page of it all the traces of Oriental
habits of thought. Its style, especially in the Old Testament, and
for the most part in Job, the Psalms, and the Prophets, is full of lofty,
bold and fervid imagery. Even the History of Creation is narrated
in this elevated tone and garb: also the journeyings of the Jews
through Arabia, are recorded in this glowing and figurative language.
Their history, also, and the records of their kings in Canaan, together with the writings of Solomon, all —all bear this character of
Eastern floridness and picturesque drapery.
It is not well, indeed, my hearers, that we should in this way
undertake to prove the divinity of our books; for, on like grounds,
do the Turks claim the same thing for their own Koran, so poet.
ically written. But it is still less fitting that we take occasion from
this to attack or deride the divinity of our books. A little reflection will convince us, that every one who wishes to be understood
must adopt the style of his hearers, of his country, of his century;
otherwise he becomes unintelligible. Now since religion was first
given in the East, and only after long wanderings has reached us at
the North; since the mind of our country and of our time is so distinct from that; indeed since the style of thinking and modes of
expression with every nation changes almost every quarter of a cen.
tury, how could it be otherwise than that many figures and modes
of conception should appear strange to us, which were not so in their
own time and place?
Each reflecting hearer will see how useful and necessary a thing
it is even in the case of the Bible, to derive explanations and eluci.
dations from the time and place where it was written; and that it




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF TRE BIBLE. 505
furnishes no argument against the Bible, that it is both capable of,
and requires exposition. Every book coming from the olden time
and from a foreign nation, requires, from this very circumstance, tc;
be explained. Accordingly, it is unreasonable to ask for a Scrip.
ture which shall be throughout equally intelligible for all individuals
and nations and centuries. This can be true of no writings in.the
world. The most distinguished works of our time will, after two
hundred years, in many respects become as strange to our descendants as those written two hundred years ago are to us. How then
must it be with an interval of three thousand years, and with so
great a remove of nations and mental characteristics?  Nothing
is therefore more contracted and foolish than to take up any suc'
obscure expression out of the Bible, or out of the Bible translation,
which is already over two hundred years old, and make sport over
it. All such jesting, which is really about nothing at all, must appear to every one who considers the matter, as the most frigid and
foolish thing in the world. If we think of charging the Bible with
not being sufficiently elegant or ingenious, or courtly, or learned,
let us first remember that it was not composed in our time, but that
it is to be interpreted according to the customs and mental habits of
an earlier period, and that it is altogether unreasonable to require
that the Song of Solomon should be an Anacreontic ode according to
modern tastes, or that Christ's sermon should be a system of divinity
after the cut of our century.
From what has been said, it is also plain how excellent and praise.
worthy is the work of Biblical interpretation; and that if the
preacher's office were suited to nothing else but this, it would still be
something far more indispensable than many imagine. What barbarism would invade all other departments of spiritual culture,
should these public discourses to the people fail for a few years I
Who would then understand the Bible, or wish even to read it?
Who would indeed evince the slightest taste for that which transcended the region of sense? Who would then be cultivating those elements of his nature which now come under the special training of
the preacher, so that the soil of his heart may be kept mellow, his
conscience trained to right utterances, and his understanding be
habituated to reflect on worthy topics in a noble and elevated
strain?
I pass over other results of my position. If the Bible is a divine
book, then, my hearers, we should dismiss from our minds the foolish
prejudice that nothing more is wanted for a minister and expounder
of the Rible than to mike out a tolerable sermon. If the Bible is a




506          JOHN  GODFREY  rON HERDER.
divine book, then what Christian house ought to be without some
work where the most important and instructive portions of the
Bible are unfolded in a plain and simple manner, according to
the sense of our time; of which kind of exposition, God be praised,
wc have already many in the midst of us. If the Bible is a divine
book then should we not neglect those public discourses in which
the truths of religion are exhibited in a manner easy to be understood. Indeed, if it be so, then I think I do no wrong when I take
care in all my sermons to refrain from those expressions which
we have learned by heart in our Cateclism, or know out of our prayerbook, and rather attempt always to translate the Bible language into
the current speech of our time and life, in order to explain it thereby.
I do no wrong when I endeavor to accustom each of my hearers to
think for himself, after me, in words which I have as it were taken
from his own tongue, so that he shall at last learn to speak on religious
topics without the aid of committed phrases which he does not under
stand, but in his own free and unconstrained idiom, just as he explains himself on all worldly matters.
How much, oh how much would religion have gained, if men had
accustomed themselves to reflect as rationally upon it as they do
upon the affairs of their secular occupation! Believe me my hearers, it is no tenet of religion to abjure thinking. It is rather its
decay and the decay of humanity. Even the Apostles (and they were
called by Jesus to teach) commended their hearers when they searched
whether the things were so as they had said; and so would it be for
me the greatest satisfaction of my calling to have awakened in you
the habit of thought and reflection upon religion, and to have aided
each one of you in the work of arousing his own conscience, developing more clearly his former dim experiences, training his own understanding, and in short, through my exposition of religion, rendering
himself wiser, more self-acquainted, nobler and better than he was
before. In this way religion serves also for the education of our
time, and that which has already so far exalted the human understanding would continue to elevate it, and with it our virtue,,ur humanity, our bliss. Happy times! happy world l
4. God has revealed Himself in the soul of each one of the sacred
writers. How happened.this? Was it so that each man at that
moment ceased to think and God thought for him? Impossible I
Thinking is the essence of the human soul.. A soul which does not
think has lost its reason, its freedom of will, its essence. It is no
longer a human soul. It is a nonentity. The moment, therefore,
that any being, beside myself, interrupts the train of my thoughts




THE DIVINITY  AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 507
and directly obtrudes there thoughts, which are not of my thinking,
of which I know nothing, and for which I am not responsible, that
moment I cease to be a man; for the very essence of my soul is annulled; and if God Himself should do this though only for a moment, then would He have done as great a wonder, as if He had
destroyed an entire human soul; and if He lets me think again He
would create an entirely new human soul. What a contradiction I
No I this I and every one perceives from the Bible; that each inspired writer has thought, just as he would have thought, according
to the capacity of his own spirit, according. to the tendency and
measure of his own mental powers, according to his own temperament-yea, according to his own acquired knowledges and his own
skill in the art of writing. The holy John writes just like himselfthe tender, sensitive, affectionate Apostle, in a train of thoughts
which are his own favorite thoughts, and in a train of expressions
which are his own favorite expressions. The holy Paul writes, fiery
and rapid, one thought tumbling over another, a lover of allegories,
in short the converted Pharisee. Isaiah writes like Isaiah, sublime,
gorgeous, like an eagle which soars to the sun. David, like David4
as a lover of country life, and of sweet, cheerful, joyous images.
Solomon writes in his youth, in mid-life, and even in his far advanced age, just as his own peculiar style of thinking would each
time have prompted. Yea, even Jesus Christ Himself-He was,
according to Paul's expression, a servant of the circumcision, begotten among the Jews, trained according to Jewish habits of thought
and He lived and preached as in the midst of Jews; also among them
in the midst of the wrecks of their religion did He set up His own
better religion, so noble, so simple, so moral, which His Apostles
afterward more extensively expanded and developed. Each sacred
writer, therefore, consecrated the powers of his own soul upon the
altar of God. But the Holy Spirit consecrated His temperament, and
sanctified it to be God's instrument.
We see, therefore, that God, in a more worthy manner, and in
one suited to His own being, is the. Author of the Bible; even in
respect to its thoughts and words. His omniscience, if I may so
speak, had held, as it were, a close watch upon the souls of His
sacred writers; His grace, which indeed exists in all creation, and
sustains with its power every creature at every moment, just as if it
had been created afresh at that moment, illumined the depths of
their souls in a wonderful and divine manner. It wrought, either in
a dream or in a waking vision, images before the eye of their image
ination, and directed their attention to the same; so thoughts arose




508          JOHN GODFREY VON HERDER.
in their minds, and with these thoughts there came words, and these
words flowed into their pens, and became a book for posterity and a
rule for the Church. They thought under the closest inspection of
the Most High, and under the guidance of His grace; but still they
ever preserved in their writing the integrity of their souls, their
modes of thinking, and their forms of speech. God spake not intead of them, but through them. They were the teachers of the
Church. What is there objectionable and unworthy in this concep.
tion of the divinity of our Scriptures?
Now, my hearers, just as in every sacred writer there wrought
his own peculiar gifts, much more must it be so with us, if we would
read and use the Scriptures aright. It were foolish to expect that
the Spirit of God would work in us without our exercising our own
activity; foolish to expect that good thoughts will work in us without our thinking the same. Any such expectation of the Divine
aid in the use of God's word annuls the use of reason, and is itself absurd and anomalous. Nothing can work in a rational soul
except through means, on the grounds of reason, and by means of
motives; and I must that moment be able to annihilate the substance
of my soul, if I should expect that God would insert, in the course
of my own thoughts, His own intervening thoughts, and so, while I
remained inactive, transform me into something better than I am.
Let us, my hearers, deal wisely with this best of books, if we would
either read or hear something from it; and let us not expect that it will
operate upon us like enchantment, without the exercise of reflection;
but rather let us summon up our reason to receive each ray of light
that streams in upon us, and take up each truthful conviction into
our hearts; then shall we, each one according to his own mode of
thinking and reading, discover also in God's Word His own good
seed to the edification and improvement of our souls, and so be as.
sured that this doctrine comes from God.
II. Aside from the light of reason, and that voice which addresses
us in all creatures, God has seen fit to let us have a clear and definite
voice, which shall teach us what He is and what we are, indicate our
relations to Him, exhort us to all good, make us acquainted with
ourselves, and, above all, shed light upon the immortality of the
soul. Though our reason might apprehend many truths on these
topics, yet would these not be attended with such certainty and conviction, at least they would not abide so uncorrupted and lasting as
to constitute a permanent treasure for the race. Only too soon would
they become darkened. The purest thoughts of God would, in the
soul of the common man, turn to the basest of idolatry.  The




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 509
purest conceptions of man and of his duty would, in the soul of the
vicious, yield to vice and iniquity. For the same reason, therefore,
that civil laws are necessary, is also a law of religion and virtue in.
finitely more needed. The Deity has taken an interest in us. Under
His own gracious inspection and guidance, He has instituted for us
the rule of faith and practice; and lo! this is our Bible!
It is yet more than this. Could the light of reason always suffice
for that man, who is no sinner, who is as holy, as pure, as innocent,
as active as he should be; could such a one be brought by his own
native reason to exercise in God the best and strongest faith:-but I?
I am not so. How should I be? I am a fallen creature in the sight
of my God. I am a sinner. How shall I comfort myself? How
shall I be full of good courage toward Him, when my conscience
declares that I have sinned through my own fault? that I, as a
free moral agent, stand under accountability! that, before the allknowing Spirit, I never can be of good courage at all? How will
God forgive me? Upon what conditions will He pardon, and upon
what terms can I become reconciled to Him, and walk before Him
in peace? AhI here all is silent-reason, creation, conscience,
conjecture, world-wisdom I O God I couldst Thou then have left
me, couldst Thou then have left the whole human race in this
wretched uncertainty? Couldst Thou have abandoned us in these sad
struggles, so that with ourselves, and with our sins, and doubts, and
disquietudes, we should have to murmur life away? Thou allmerciful One I! not altogether through my own fault have I become
miserable, not altogether is it chargeable upon me that I possess a
fallen nature. Compassionate Being! shouldst Thou not have had
pity upon Thy creature, and through a positive revelation declared
to him Thy will, and given him consolation, and shown to him the
way of atonement, and the means of being assured of Thy grace?
Lo I this is our Bible I
It is yet more. For myself, I have not, even in my best resolves,
strength sufficient to transform my whole nature, to deny my darling
lusts, and to overcome the enemies which have so long been established within me. I see that the man who lives recklessly in the
enjoyment of the world and his sins, is better off than I. I see
throughout the world happiness and misery distributed not according
to deserts; and that often it is with the pious as if they were godless.
In view of this my hands would grow weary, and hang down. How
then, O gracious God I shall I not hope from Thee, and expect that
Thou, through a definite revelation, shouldst animate my heart;
anlock the riddle of my destiny, of time and eternity; establish my




510          JOHN  GODFREY VON HERDER.
immortality, and, in spite of all opposition, make me firm and faith.
ful in virtue and tranquillity of mind? And lo! this does the Bible I
Who, therefore, is there that would wish to learn from this book
aught else, save what God would have him learn, namely, truth,
and blessedness, and virtue? Were there in the Bible never so
many mistakes of geology, history, astronomy, and the like (but it
is proved that there are none —in the mean time we will assume it),
yet is it certain that the Bible was not given to instruct me in these
matters, but only in regard to religion and virtue.
Should Joshua have believed that the sun actually stood still in
the heavens, what matters it to me? He might have thought so in
accordance with the opinions of his time; and, as I have shown
under the first head, God did not deem it fitting to reveal Himself
as a teacher of astronomy, and to explain to him whether the sun
moved, or the earth. This would have answered for His purpose just
as little as when we say, in common parlance, the sun rises and sets;
and it is supremely ridiculous to undertake to read and judge the
Bible from such points of view.
For such objects surely the Bible was not given us, but rather to
edify and renew the soul. If for this object, 0 man, thou drawest near
to the sacred Scriptures, enter there as into the sanctuary of God where
a new sense shall be given thee. Foster not thine erring desires, thy
vanity, and thy skepticism with curious questions and remarks, but
always press directly for that which is profitable for thee, and shall
serve for thine improvement. Read as if in thine own soul, and
summon up all thy mental powers to understand and feel this Word
of God. Each great example which God sets before thee, each impressive and exalted truth which God exhibits to thee, let all this
become in thee living and active. Let thy soul stand open to each
good impression. Behold I thus thou readest God's Word l
2. If this be so, how entirely, my hearers, will all such favorite
chapter-readings be set aside, as when we, in the most stupid manner, tear up and mangle one of the sacred books, in order, each
day, to lay one chapter of it, like a little lamb, on God's altar. It
is well for me here to say, that the divisions of chapter and verse did
not originate with the authors of the Bible, but were arranged at a
much later period, and by a venerable Bible-reader, as he was traveling by post. The worst of it is, that they actually appear so much
like the post. The worst of it is, that the sense is so often broken
up by chapters and verses that it is very much to be feared, that
where the custom prevails of offering unto God daily a chapter or a
few verses, that God is often put off with half an offering. Therefore




THE DIVINITY AND RIGHT USE OF THE BIBLE. 511
let us read less frequently, and with understanding. Read, my dear,
honest, Christian brother, rather read an entire sacred book through
at once, for there is none too long. Then wilt thou enter into the
connection and tone of the writer, and, as it were, into the current
thoughts of his soul. Thou wilt then be quickened with his spirit,
and read as he wrote. And where can this advice better suit than
in the epistles of the Apostles, and in the discourses of Jesus? The
epistles of the Apostles were written, as all letters are, with a specific
aim, touching certain religious occurrences in their congregations, and
therefore are to be read only in connection. He who breaks them
up, and reads them chapter-wise, and divides their meaning, does as
if he wrote a continuous text upon little bits of paper, and made it a
matter of conscience to read one of them daily, without connection, aim,
choice, or order; and, in this way how would the Bible be mutilated I
Especially let none neglect our advice while reading the discourses
of Jesus. The discourses of this Anointed One have so much that is
noble, pure, and virtuous, that if any choice is permitted us in the
books of the Bible, we should value one connected discourse of
Jesus more highly than much else. Only we must not break them
-up-for example the Sermon on the Mount, in Matthew, and the
lait discourse of Jesus, in John-but read them through entire, and
think and ponder over them. What holy thoughts of God are
there I what excellent precepts I what deep insight into the human
heart! what an innocent spirit there breathes forth! what zeal for
virtue t what humility in wishing to make Himself of no reputation!
and what devotion to the will of God in sealing His doctrine with His
own blood! No,' never man spake like this Man;" and never has
any one, through his whole life and by his last hours, so corroborated the superiority of his religion, as did Jesus, the First-Born of
God, the Saviotir of the world.
Were we to do this, my hearers —thus to mutilate the Biblehow liable would we be to extract from it isolated sayings, and
often apply them in a sense that must be to many fearful and sad.
What secular writer would not be sadly misused if a person were
to tear individual passages out from their connections, so that one
could make out of them what he chose, misconstruing, deriding,
mal-interpreting, according to his pleasure.
And though it might be impossible to understand every thing, even
in its connections, yet would every sincere Christian reader do well if
he rested principally in the passages which he does understand, and
which are of significance to him. Findest thou, my Christian hearer,
one expression which exhibits God to thee in His sovereignty and




512         JOHN GODFREY VON HERDER.
in His providence, in some peculiar or more impressive aspect, or
which unriddles to thee.thine own heart, or which declares to thee
thy duties more concisely and exactly defined than thou wouldst be
able to express them to thyself, then impress it on thy soul as the
voice of God. Let it be thy guide in life and in death.
3. Especially let us bring to the reading. of the Divine Word
perfect honesty, and a sincere heart. This is more necessary than any
extraordinary understanding, or a glowing imagination. We do not
listen to sermons simply for the purpose of making critical observations, and to inquire whether the theme has been well treated or
not; but the question is, how far it touches, profits, and improves
us. Let no one bring to the Bible a heart which is tainted with
prejudice, whether it be against the Bible, or for this and that particular dogma of his Church; otherwise he would be sure to see only
what he wishes to see. He would remain wrapped up in his own darling
notions, and become only more expert than he was before with seeing eyes, yet not seeing, and with feeling heart, yet hardening himself.
Let the soil of the heart be mellow and subdued, that God may convince,
enlighten, and improve-for He verily teaches men what they know.
With such sincerity in our dealings, what reverence for the
Word of God would take possession of us! Thou then, O! nran 
art in a much nearer way to hold communion with thy God;
the Omniscient One fills thy soul; that Omniscient One who was
present in the soul of Isaiah and Paul when they spake and wrote:
Who, in a way unknown to us, held their hearts in His hands
in order that they, from their inward depths, might think out
that which was His will. Thou art before Him; thou and thy
thoughts are present to His all-knowing eye. What fear before
thy God will this awaken I how will it summon up thy powers in
order to be found pure and holy before the Lord!  So read, 0
man, the Bible! Read it only when perfectly qualified therefor;
only when thy soul, abstracted from all earthly occupations, and
freed from all distractions, is in a state to be a temple of God and
of truth; then read thy Bible I
I have already warned you that in no duty of divine service
should any one allow himself to sink into a drowsy quiet in order not
to think, but should rather listen for the voice of the Spirit; and I
must repeat this yet once again. It has been sadly customary among
men to confound devotion with soul-sleep; piety with sluggishness
of thought; so that this, among other things, is always one cause
of the little use of hearing sermons and reading the Bible, that no
mne wilU think with the preacher, but that each one allows himself




THE DIVIlITT AND RIGHIT USE OF THE B BLE. 513
to be penetrated by the Spirit of God, and then, indeed, nro one
thinks at all. The Spirit of God and His grace works in men humanly; in rational creatures, rationally; in moral creatures morally.
Thou must, therefore, think thoughts; thou must awaken the feelings of thine heart; thou must let conscience speak; thou must read
thy Bible actively and thoughtfully as any other instructive, affecting, and edifying book; and behold, 0, man I it is the richest anc
most instructive book. With this prejudice thou mayest approach it.
Then if thou art honest, will thy soul open itself; then will the feelings of thine heart speak; then will thy conscience exhort; then,
and not otherwise, will the Spirit of God speak in thee. Be no
mechanical Christian. Bind not thyself to some few heart-touching
words, which because thou wert once affected by them in thy youth,
are still to call forth tears in thee, though only in a mechanical or
magical, way. Play not with particular Bible-words as if these by
their simple ring were to affect in thee something divine and heartsubduing. Perchance they might do it, perchance elicit some tears;
perchance excite some sort of feeling. But if this emotion be anything more than a simple preparation, for something better, the
tears dry up, the feeling passes not over into good resolves and acts;
and every thing which does not go beyond this, which does not
make me wiser and better, which does not ennoble me —this though
it may have a divine aspect, this is not from God. It is enthusiasm,
it is the mechanical vibrations of the fibers of our feelings, it is a
counterfeit sympathy. No I! Thy book, 0 God, should serve me for
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for blessedness, and for nothing
more. I will as often as I can, ask myself this question: why hearest thou the voice of God? wherefore readest thou the word of God?
Oh! that my heart then might ever render back the good'answer
which I desire! O, that every time that I rise from the perusal of
this holy book I could say, Behold! thou hast now become wiser,
and better, and holier through God's word. If I, therefore, am in
the best condition to think upon God and divine things, to weigh
time and eternity, to contemplate clearly the history of Jesus with
all its merits, and to yield myself up to those thoughts upon immortality which the Holy Scriptures have so gloriously confirmed, if
this is the case, then shall I, O God, hear Thy voice with my heart.
Then shall I set myself as a suppliant before Thy sight, and raise
myself to Thee, 0! Lord, that Thou mayest speak in my heart.
My Bible-reading will be a quiet and continued converse with Thee;
a sincere prayer which will exalt and benefit me. Again: when
those hours come in which my taste for all things earthly is gone,
33




514         JOHN GODFREY VON HERDER.
when I am in distress and anguish of heart then shall God's word
comfort me-that word which has comforted so many, which has
poured balm into the wounds of so many wretched souls, and has
given consolation in the hours of sorrow, shall also make my heart
light, teach me to love my fellow-men, bind me more closely to
my God, and make me full of peace and goodness. May it be a
light in my path: and in the evening of my life, when in the last
hours, my spirits flag, and yet, for the last time, life's taper kindles
up, to be quenched again as an expiring lamp; then, 0 my God I
then let the passages of Thy word be the resting-places of my heart,
and at the final moment lift my spirit up, that I with quiet, heavenly thoughts, and comforting hopes, may step forth upon my eternal
career I Amen.




DISCOURSE THIRTY SIXTH
DR. FRANCIS V. REINHARD.
THIS celebrated Protestant preacher was born in 1753, a native of
the duchy of Sulzbach. His educational course was pursued at Ratis
bon and Wittenburg, where sacred eloquence particularly attracted his
attention. He afterward filled the Chairs of Professor of Philosophy and
Theology in the University, and also acted as preacher to the University
church. In the year 1792 he became first Court Preacher at Dresden.
After filling these stations with high reputation, he died September 6,
1812.  His principal works are: a " System  of Christian Ethics;"
"Lectures on Dogmatic Theology;" an "Essay on the worth of Little
Things in Morals;" and his Sermons, which are contained in thirty-five
volumes.
Reinhard was confessedly one of the princes among the pulpit orators
of Germany. His labors have been compared to those of President
Dwight of this country, who was born one year before Reinhard. His
sermons present great novelty in their texts and themes, remarkable ease
in merging the text into the proposition, accuracy of arrangement, lucid
and manly phraseology, apt and forcible illustrations, and a general style
" instinct with the life of a vigorous mind and a benevolent temper."
Several years since, an extended and learned criticism, by Professor Park,
of Andover, on Reinhard's Sermons, appeared in the "Bibliotheca Sacra,"
accompanied with specimens of his peculiar plans and most marked discourses, from which, by permission, the two following parts of sermons
are taken. The first is from a double sermon, which illustrates many
peculiarities of his and of other German discourses, and combines exactness of method with fervor of emotion. The second is given as a speci.
men of Reinhard's sharp analysis of virtue, in his ethical sermons.
THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.
Oh  Thou Infinite, Incomprehensible, and Invisible One, who
hast all sufficiency in Thyself; who dwellest in light which no mortal
eye can endure; Thou hast come forth from Thy silent hiding-place;




516             FRANCIS V. REINHARD.
Thou hast tempered the brightness of thy glory into the softest
radiance, for the sake of being able to manifest Thyself unto Thy
creatures, and among them unto us also, as the feeble inhabitants of
this earth. Every where around us do we behold the proofs of Thy
greatness, the masterpieces of Thy wisdom, the benefactions of Thy
goodness. The heavens declare Thy glory, and the firmament showeth
Thy handiwork. But oh I how hast Thou, in a peculiar manner, distinguished this earth I what a theater for the display of Thine attri.
butes hast Thou made it  With deep amazement, with tremulous
joy, does this festival, devoted to the contemplation of Thy most
magnificent, Thy most wonderful, Thy most condescending revelation, fill my heart; for I am now about to announce this revelation;
I am now about to declare that Thou whom no finite mind comprehendeth and no sense reacheth, hast sent to us Thine only-begotten;
that Thou, the Invisible, hast, in one of our race, made Thyself as
it were perceptible to our feeble eyes; I am now to proclaim aloud
that Thou hast clothed the splendor of Thy glory and the image of
Thy being with our own nature, and hast given to us Him who
could say, " Whoso seeth Me, seeth the Father also."
So important, beloved brethren, so noble, so useful is the great
event to which are devoted the days now to be celebrated. True,
the devices are innumerable by which God imparts to His creatures
the knowledge of His greatness and His will. All nature around
us is a vast and splendid temple, where His glory sometimes expresses itself in forces that cause all things to tremble, sometimes
beams forth in the order and beauty of the illimitable whole, sometimes can be felt in the mild luxuriance of a goodness that embraces
in its core every living thing, and fills every thinking being with
awe, admiration, and joy. But to-day, to-day, we celebrate a revelation of God, which comes to us and to our race nearer and in an
altogether peculiar form; which has immediate regard to the improvement of our character, the most important of all benefits to every
one; which can not present itself to our view without causing us to
feel the dignity of our natures, and to regard them with reverence
and admiration, for God, God is manifested in the flesh.
What a thought, my brethren, God is manifested in the flesh t
The birth of Jesus, the Son of the Highest, which we call to remem
brance in these days, is a device by which God chose to be more
fully known to us, by which He chose to accommodate Himself to
our weakness, to come into the most intimate connection with us,
and open the way for us to attain the highest perfection. Let us not
long hesitate in regard to the aspect in wHich we shall now look at




THE INCARNATION  OF CHRIST.                  517
this momentous event. Can any thing be more worthy of our atten.
tion than the idea that the birth of Jesus is a new, plain, unspeaka.
bly useful revelation of God to our race? Yea, let this be the
theme which shall occupy our thoughts to-day and to-morrow. I
propose to show that among all the revelations of God, the incarna.
tion of His Son is the most desirable for us in our state of weakness.
But how much is here to be considered, to be explained, to be
proved I Let us, therefore, my hearers, divide our contemplations.
I will to-day confirm this statement by the fact that the humanity
of Christ imparts the greatest light to our understandings; and tomorrow, if it please God, I will show that it also gives the greatest
power to our hearts. Yet, before we proceed further, let us draw
near to Him who became a man, like unto us, that He may make
known unto us the Father, and conduct us to the Father, and with
united veneration let us ask for His aid and blessing in silent
prayer.
"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from
Ccesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed," etc., Luke 2: 1-14.
First Head. Among all the revelations of God, the incarnation
of His Son is the most desirable for us in our state of weakness, because it imparts the greatest light to our understandings.
I. It gives the most completeness to our religious knowledge;
for
1. It enlarges our view of God's nature; the Son dwelleth in Him.
2. It vivifies our ideas of His feelings; He condescends to our
low estate.
3. It liberalizes our conceptions of His purposes; He designs to
"' give us all things."
1H. It gives the greatest certainty to our religious knowledge; for
1. It confirms every right judgment of our reason; we are
pleased to find our individual deductions corroborated by the Great
Teacher.
2. It gives to us an eye-witness of the truth; and in our weakness
as abstract reasoners, we are relieved by the testimony of one who
speaks what He doth know.
3. It satisfactorily solves many difficulties, which had previously
discomposed us; for some questions can not be answered by natural
religion.
III. It gives the greatest perspicuity to our religious knowledge
for
1. It leads in the shortest way to the truth; the testimony of
Jesus contains succirctly all needful doctrine.




618              FRANCIS V. REINHARD.
2. It teaches truth in plain language; Christ not only instructs
us by actions but by words, as a father his children.
3. It presents to us a visible image of the perfect infinite one;
who so hath seen Christ hath seen the Father also.
Second Head. The incarnation of Christ is, of all God's revelations, the most desirable for us in our state of weakness, because it
gives the greatest power to our hearts.
I. It inspires them with a living confidence in God; for
1. It is the greatest proof of His condescension to our weakness;
were it not for this visible evidence, we should not feel emboldened
to believe in His willingness to dwell with us.
2. It is the most affecting pledge of His tender paternal love; it
shows the oneness of our own nature with His, and the dependence
of our hearts on His fatherly care.
II. It inspires our hearts with an earnest love to the good; for
1. It, more than all other causes, shows us the infinite worth of
virtue; as something to be revered for its own excellence, and to be
connected with eternal glory.
2. It, more than all other causes, illustrates the capacities of our
nature for moral goodness; the shepherds found the Saviour as
small as other infants, but He developed the capacities of the human spirit so as to encourage us in aiming at high attainments in
virtue.
III. It inspires our hearts with animating consolations in trouble;
for
1. It shows that a wise government is exercised over all the
events of our life; the sufferings of Christ afford an example of the
benevolence of God in afflicting his children.
2. It shows us that the events which we experience are expressly
designed for our good. " Father of us all, who hast here subjected
us to so much weakness, ah! this assurance, this assurance we most
deeply need." [After describing the manner in which Christ has
sanctified the path of our affliction, he exclaims,] " Blessed be to us,
therefore, blessed be to us, thou rough, toilsome pathway through
the dust I The footsteps of the Son of God have distinguished thee;
thou hast been moistened with His blood. Canst thou conduct us
elsewhere than to Him? Oh I with silent resignation, with steadfast, manly firmness, will we pursue Thee, so long as our Father
commands. We know, from the example of our Redeemer, how
Thou endest; what a victory awaiteth the faithful ones who follow
th - Son of God."
IV. It inspires our heart with a joyful hope; for




THE INCARNATION OF CHRIST.                519
1. It promises a happy future for our race on earth; the design
of the atonement to bless all men will not be lost.
2. It promises a blessed eternity to the children of God. " Father,
Father of us all I Oh, how hast Thou unvalled before our eyes Thy
glory; that glory of which we could not endure the brightness, be.
cause we are dust I How considerate of our frailty, how mild, how
condescending hast Thou been in the manifestation of Thyselfl
How highly hast Thou distinguished us among Thy creatures I What
feelings, what designs, what immeasurable kindness hast Thou made
known unto us. Oh, since He hath appeared, the Day-spring from
on high, our earthly darkness hath been transformed into a bright
day. Through Him hast Thou changed our trembling into confidence, and doubt into certainty, our fear into hope. With the thankfulness, with the emotion, with the trustful sentiment of happy
children, do we this day cast ourselves down before Thee and send
up our prayer. Our great Leader whom Thou hast sent to us, and
who already hath gone before us, Him do we follow unto Thee, 0
Father, and to Thy glory. We all follow Him with joy and with
Him shall we one day go to Thee, O Father, and to Thy glory.
Amen."




DISCOURSE THIRTY.SEVENTH.
DRi. FRANCIS V. REINHARD.'
THE SOCIAL AND UNSOCIAL VIRTUES.' And the child grew and waxed strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day
of his showing unto Israel."-LuKE, i 80.
IN all times virtue has presented itself in two forms, the one dark,
solitary, stern; the other kindly, social, cheerful. There have always
been pious men who, in their punctual obedience to the dictates of
conscience, in their shrinking back from all those pleasures which
might interrupt their still communion with God, in their profound
grief over sin, their severe processes of self-mortification and selfdiscipline, have appeared to the world too austere, too rigorous.
And there have also been good men who have not repelled the community from them by their hard self-denials, or their impetuous zeal,
but have condescended to associate and sympathize with their weak
brethren. Religion has been to them not a ruler so much as a friend,
not the antagonist but the prompter of joy and cheerful companionship. One would think that this last form of religious activity
would have been more impressive on the world than the first. But
it is not so. John, the subject of our text, was the best example of
the first; and although he performed no miracle, yet he made such
an impression upon his age as suggests the theme of the present discourse. The dark, unsocial virtue excites more wonder in the world
than the kindly and cheerful.
First, we will endeavor to prove this proposition. 1. It is
verified by the history of the Jews before Christ. Who wielded
the highest authority over them? Such men as Moses, after he had
withdrawn himself from the court of the Pharaohs, dwelt long in
the desert, and shown his unconquerable firmness, his irrepressible
zeal. Such men as the prophets, unsparing in rebuke, fearless in
defense of law, abstaining from indecent self-indulgence, living
within themselves and in God, apart from the society of frail men.
* See sketch with preceding discourse.




THE SOCIAL AND UNSOCIAL VIRTUES.               521
The description which Paul gives of them in Heb., xi. 26-38, reveals one secret of their authority over the people. 2. The history
of the Christian religion is a proof, that men who separate themselves from the world by a life of visible austerity, make a stronger
sensation than those who let themselves down to a more apparent
congeniality with their fellow-men. John withdrew himself from
he sympathies of youth even, spent his early days in the wilderness, dressed himself in an eccentric garb, refused the comforts of
life, came forward at last with bold denunciations against sin, and,
if he had performed miracles, might have eclipsed the Saviour in
popular admiration. As it was, he was supposed to be the Christ;
he was obliged often to send applicants away from himself to the
" One mightier than he;" men were astonished that he neither ate
nor drank, while they looked down upon the more social Jesus as a
glutton and a wine bibber; and even after the Baptist's death, there
remained a party who believed in and advocated his Messiahship.
The apostles of the Saviour were obliged from the first to resist the
tendency of the Church to an austere life; but the tendency at length
prevailed, and was more and more abused, until mild men who
deemed it right to be companionable, were despised; the saints were
the anchorites, the most barbarous self-tortures were esteemed the
surest signs of inward holiness, and a religion of gloom was thought
to be the purest. 3. The history of heathen nations proves that
fanatics, who exhibit a peculiar severity of manners, who perform
painful exploits, and mal-treat their physical system in the service
of the gods, excite more general astonishment and complacency than
is excited by tender-hearted and accommodating men.
Secondly, we will investigate the causes of this remarkable phenomenon. 1. The dark and austere virtue is more striking than
the cheerful and kindly. A man who disciplines himself visibly in
the maceration of his body, arrests more attention than a man who
schools his heart in secret. John, with his diet of locusts and wild
honey, is more readily noticed than one who is " in all things like
unto his brethren, yet without sin." A bold reprover who puts his
adversaries to shame, takes a stronger hold upon them than the mild
friend who strives to insinuate into them the gentle influence of love.
2. The austere religion is apparently more infrequent than the
cheerful. It is an outward exception to the general rule. There
seem to be fewer men who renounce the pleasures of the world altogether, than there are who partake of them with moderation. We
are naturally most impressed by that which occurs but seldom. &
The severe virtue is esteemed more genuine than the mild. It is




522              FRANCIS V. REINHARD.
thought to be far more difficult to spurn all earthly good than to
make a wise use of it. A philanthropist who deigns to commune
pleasantly with men, is regarded as on a perfect equality with them;
and it is not considered that he may be influenced, in holding this
communion with them, by the pious desire of elevating them to his
own moral standard. On the other hand, if under the impulses of
scorn and pride he should violently denounce men, he would be regarded as superior to them in moral worth, too high above them for
sympathy with their follies. Hie raises himself -up to be a mark for
observation; and it is asked, what other than a good motive can a
man have for making himself, in toils and sufferings bodily and mental, an exception to his race? 4. As the unsocial virtue is esteemed
the more pure, so it is esteemed the more difficult of imitation, and
therefore is the more amazing and impressive. Men imagine that it
requires no effort to perform the gentle, winning, refined, and modest
duties of the philanthropist, but the penances and harsh discipline
of the hermit are well-nigh superhuman; and it is natural to revere
the difficult more than the easy.
Thirdly, we will notice a few ideas suggested by this disposition
of men, to esteem the forbidding, more highly than the alluring virtues. 1. This disposition suggests a lesson of instruction. A1though, apart from its abuses, it is in itself right, yet it is not the distinctive form of Christian piety. The spirit of Christianity is one
of love, tenderness, clemency; it flows outward in generous efforts
for the happiness of men, and does not keep the eye of the philanthropist introverted upon himself, his heart locked up from the approach of his neighbors. Our Saviour does not condemn that type
of piety which was exemplified without its natural abuses in John,
but He does not extol it as the most desirable, and His own example
favors the more amiable virtues. These are in less danger of becoming ostentatious, of being regarded as supererogatory, of degenerating into pride, obstinacy, misanthropy, fanaticism, extravagance.
They are also in fact, although not in appearance and in common
estimation, more infrequent, more pure, more difficult than all the
self-inflicted tortures of what are called the religious orders. 2.
This disposition, as it has prevailed in past ages, suggest a mortify.
ing reflection on our present state. It must be confessed that we,
my hearers, do not value the unsocial virtues so highly as the social.
We do not honor the man who cuts himself off from human sympathies. Wily? Is it because we have imbibed more of the spirit of
the Gospel?  Do you believe this?  No. It is because we have
become too effeminate for those self-sacrifices, too soft for those con



THE SOCIAL AND UNSOCIAL VIRTUES.                523
flic.ts, too weak for those toils which once commanded the reverence
of mankind, but are looked upon by us in our degeneracy as irrational and ludicrous. We have lost the impetuous zeal of the one
class, and the faithful love of the other class of the true friends of
their race, and we should therefore be ashamed of our indifference to
religion, our pusillanimity, love of repose, enervated wills. 3. This
disposition, as it has prevailed among men, suggests to us a solemn
warning. We are too sickly to revere the rigorous virtues, and too
cold-hearted to practice those that are more genial. We do not reflect on the strictness of life which is involved in a cheerful piety;
a strictness more constant, more laborious, requiring more watchfulness and a more earnest spirit, than are needful for the ascetic, monastic state. It demands a greater effort to win men to holiness by
a uniform benignant example, than to administer the sharpest rebukes
against sin. There is great danger that, mistaking the nature of
Christian cheerfulness, forgetting the description of the broad and
narrow way, and of our duty to work out our salvation with fear
and trembling, we shall become more and more selfish, worldly, fickle
aitd trifling, until we ruin our souls. Wherefore let us have grace
whereby we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly
fear, for our God is a consuming fire.




DISCOURSE THIRTY.EIGHTH.
DR. FRED. D. E. SCHLEIERMACHER.
THIS distinguished theologian and philologist was born at Breslau in
1768, and received his education at the academy of the Moravian brethren at Niesky, and at Halle. In 1794, after having been employed as
teacher, he was ordained a clergyman, and appointed assistant preacher
at Landsberg on the Warte. From 1796 to 1802 he was minister in the
Charite (a great hospital) at Berlin. Here he performed much literary
labor. In 1802 he removed to Stolpe, and the same year was appointed
Professor.Extraordinarius of Theology at Halle, and preacher to the
University. In 1807 he removed to Berlin, where he lectured and
preached, and in 1809 was appointed preacher at the Trinity Church, and,
in 1810, Professor Ordinarius. He died in Berlin, February 12th, 1834.
Schleiermacher is described as a "little hunchbacked, sickly man,"
of evident piety, and great simplicity of manners. Few men have
equaled him in activity. Besides attending to his pulpit duties, and
lecturing in various departments, he translated Plato, and Fawcet's sermons, contributed to the " Athenaeum," and wrote sermons and various
other works in great number for the press.
In some of his theological opinions Schleiermacher was unsound; and
he seems to stand between the rationalists and the evangelical party.
But he was one of the deepest thinkers of his day, and his eloquence was
entrancing. The ready effusions of his exhaustless genius drew after him
many enthusiastic admirers. His sermons, which appear to have been
designed for academic and educated classes, are sometimes abstruse, discovering the philosophic cast of his mind, but their arrangement is clear,
their tone earnest and sincere; and though often weakened by strange
conceits, and fanciful applications, yet they contain many original, profound, and striking thoughts upon the meaning and bearings of the
Scriptures.
The discourse here given is translated from the Complete Edition of
Schleiermacher's Works, Berlin 1834, vol. ii. part 2, p. 176. It has been
remarked upon as one of the best which the author ever wrote.




CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.                         525
CHRIST'S RESURRECTION A PATTERN OF OUR NEW
LIFE.
Praise and honor be to God, and peace be with all those who,
with joyful heart call out to one another, The Lord is risen I Amen.
"Therefore we are buried with Him by baptism into death, that like as Christ was
raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in a
new life. But if we have been planted together with Him to a like death, we shall be
also like the resurrection. Knowing this that our old man is crucified with Him, that the
body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin. For he that is
dead is justified from sin. But if we be dead with Christ we believe that we shall also
live with Him."-RoM. vi. 4-8.
My devout friends, it is natural that the glorious feast of the
resurrection of our Redeemer should allure the thoughts of believers
into the remote distance, and that they should now be glad in anticipation of the time when they shall be with Him, who, after He had
risen from the dead, returned to His Father and our Father, as our
united song just now was occupied with this joyful prospect. But
in the words of our text the Apostle calls us back out of the distance
into that which is near, into the immediate present of our life here
below. He seizes on that which lies nearest us, that in which we
should now share a part, and which should already in this world
form us into the likeness of our Lord's resurrection. We are buried,
he says, "with Him  into death, that as He was raised through the
glory of the Father, we also should walk?n a new life." And this
new life is that which, as our Lord Himself saith, "all those who
believe in Him as having passed through death unto life, even now
possess." This the Apostle compares with those glorious days of the
resurrection of our Lord; and how could we keep this feast-a feast
in which; above all, the greater part of Christians are wont to derive
renewed strength for that new life from the most intimate communion
with our heavenly Head-how could we keep this feast more worthily, than while we endeavor to appropriate to ourselves this truth
which lies on the face of the Apostle's words? Let us, therefore,
after this introduction, contemplate the Life of the resurrection of our
Lord, according to the representations of the Apostles, as a gloriou,
though it may be an unattainable pattern of the new i/fe in which we
ought all to walk through Him.
L This new life resembles that of the risen Redeemer, first, in the
manner of its origin. In order that He might appear to His disciples




526  FREDERICK DANIEL E. SCHLEIERMACHER.
in that state of transfiguration which contained in itself already the
traces of the eternal and deathless glory, He must needs undergo the
pains of death. It was no light transformation. He must not indeed see corruption, but yet must He suffer the shadow of death
to pass over Him. Friends and foes vied with each other to hold
Him back in the power of the grave, friends rolling the stone before
it that the beloved corpse might remain unmarred, while foes set the
watch over it lest it should be taken away. But when the hour
came which the Father had prescribed to His power, the angel of the
Lord appeared and rolled the stone away from the grave, and the
watch fled, and at the call of the Almighty life returned anew into
the inanimate frame.
Thus, my good friends, we too become acquainted with the new
life which ought to resemble the resurrection of the Lord. An
earlier life must die. The Apostle calls it the body of sin, the dominion of sin in our members, which perhaps needs no further explanation. We all know and feel this life, which the Scripture calls being
dead in sin, that however pleasantly and gloriously it may shape
itself; it is still nothing else than what the mortal body of the Saviour was, an expression and proof of the power of death, since
even the most beautiful and strongest phenomenon of this kind is
not exempt from change and decay. So the mortal body of the Re.
deemer, so also the natural life of men which yet is no life from
God.
And a violent death in the name of the law, as the Saviour suffered it, must this old man likewise die, not without hard pain and
distressing wounds. For if the body of sin in man dies out of itself
from satiety of earthly things, and because no stimulus can any
longer excite its exhausted powers, oh! that is a death from
which we see no new life go forth. Violently must the power of
sin in man be slain. He must pass through the pain of self-knowledge which shows him the contrast between his worthless state and
that higher life to which he is called. He must hear the voice, as
an irrevocable sentence must he receive it, that this life is to be
brought to an end. Under the burden of preparation for that end
he must sigh and almost sink; all customary life-movements must
cease; he must come to feel the wish that it were over with and
done. And when he has given it up, and the old man is crucified
with Christ, then the world, which knows nothing better than that
former life, if only it is lightly and well spent, employs various
efforts to hinder the origin of the new life, some with kind intention, others selfishly and therefore hostilely. With kind intention,




CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.                   527
like those friends of the Saviour, some consult and try every possible device, by turning away all foreign influences, to preserve at
least the image of their friend unchanged, and, even though no joy.
ful movement can be again called forth, to retain the form, at least,
of the old life. Others, from self-interest and for self-gratification,
but in a way by which they almost accuse themselves, seek to hinder only that this natural state of man should not suffer any abuse, and
that fresh, glad life which they themselves lead, and to which they
would fain induce others, be brought into disparagement. For they
know that after this dying out of the old man, a new life would next
demand attention, while yet there could be no other and better life
here on earth, rather it would be a vain deception if any should
pretend to know such, and a destructive illusion if any should seek
to reach it. Hence, wherever they perceive such shades of mind to
exist they keep their spies set, to prevent every trick which might
be played with such a new life, or at least to expose it at once, and
show what delusions prevail in this matter.
But when the hour comes which the Father has set for His own
power there appears, in some form or other to such a soul, its lifegiving angel. Yet how little do we know of the agency of the
angel in the resurrection of the Redeemer. We know not whether
Christ saw him or not; we can not determine the movment when
he rolled the stone away from the grave, and the Redeemer came
forth quickened with a new life. There was no witness of this, and
those of whom we are told that they might have seen it with their
bodily eyes, were struck with blindness. Neither do iwe know how
or in what form the angel of the Lord touches the soul which lies,
if I may so speak, in the grave of self-mortification, to call forth in
it the life from God. Secretly that life emerges in this deep, sep.
ulchral stillness, nor can it be perceived until it stands forth existent.
Its proper beginning is concealed, for the most part, like all beginning, even from those on whom it is bestowed. So much, however,
is certain that as the Apostle says the Lord was raised by the glory
of the Father, so according to the Saviour's words no man cometh
to the Son except the Father draw him, the same glory of the Father
which once called forth the Redeemer out of the grave, and which
ever still in the soul become dead to sin awakens the new life like
the resurrection of the Lord. Indeed among all things which
heaven and earth present to us, there is no greater glory of the
Father than just this that He hath no pleasure in the death-like condition of the sinner, but that at some time the Almighty, mysteriously viv'fying. call to him, should sound forth, "Arise and live I"




528    FREDERICK DANIEL E. SCHLEIERMACHER.
II. Not only in its origin out of death, but also, in the second
place, in its whole nature, way, and manner, does this new life
resemble that primal pattern, the life of the resurrection of our
Lord.
First in this, that although a new life, it is still the life of the
same man, and most intimately connected with that which preceded
it. So with our Redeemer. He was the same, and was recognized
by His disciples as the same, to their great joy. It was the identi.
cal form; the marks of His wounds He bore, as a memento of His
pains and a sign of His death, even in the glory of His resurrection,
and He retained the profoundest and most exact recollection of His
former state. Even so, my good friends, is the new life of the soul.
If the old man of sin is dead, and we live now in Christ, and with
Him in God, we are still the same persons which we were before.
As the resurrection of the Lord was not a new creation, but the
same man Jesus came forth out of the grave who had sunk down
into it, so there must have lain already in the soul, before it died the
death which leads to the life from God, a capacity for receiving in
itself, after the body of sin should have deceased, the life from God;
and this life now unfolds itself in the same human soul, under the
previous outward relations, and with the same quality of its other
powers and faculties. We are wholly the same, except that the
fire of the higher life is kindled in us; and we all bear the signs of
death also, and the recollection of our former state abides with us.
Yea, truly, in various ways and often are we reminded of what we
were and did before the new life-summons sounded in our hearts;
and not easily do the scars heal over of our wounds, and the manifold traces of these pains amid which the old sinful man must needs
die, that the new man might live. But the glad faith of the disciples rested in the fact that they recognized the Lord, in the glory of
His resurrection, as the same which He had been; and so our confidence in this new life as a permanent, and to us now, a natural condition rests solely in this, that we find ourselves in it to be the same'-ersons that we were; that there are the same inferior and higher
powers of the soul, which before served sin, but are now converted
into instruments of righteolisness; yes, and in all the vestiges of
that death as well as of the former life, we are touched with a lively
sense of the momentous change which the quickening call of God
has wrought in us, and are incited to the warmest thankfulness
therefor.
Again; since the Saviour in the days of His resurrection was the
same, His life naturally was a vigorous and active life. Indeed we




CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.                  529
might almost say it bears the traces of its humanity, without which
it could not be the pattern of our new life, in this, that it was gradually strengthened, and acquired new powers. When the Saviour
first appeared to Mary, He said to her, as if His new life were yet
timid and sensitive, Touch me not; I am not yet ascended to My
God and your God. But after a few days He presented Himself to
Thomas and called upon him to feel of Him thoroughly, to thrust his
hand into his Maker's side and put his fingers into the prints whicn
the nails of the cross had left, so that He shrank not from contact
with even the most sensitive parts. Even on the first day, and as if
thereby to become well strengthened, we see Him wander from Jerusalem toward Emmaus, and from Emmaus back to Jerusalem.
again, and afterward going before His disciples into Galilee, and
leading them back again to Jerusalem, where He then went up before
their eyes into heaven. And while He thus walked among them,
living with them in all respects after the manner of man, and influencing them in a human way, His chief business with them was
to speak to them of the kingdom of God, to rebuke and stir up the
slowness of their hearts, and open the eyes of their mind.
So, my good friends, is our new life which resembles the resurrection of the Lord. Oh I! how very gradually does it in us acquire powers, grow and become strong, while it much more still than the new
life of our Lord carries in it the traces of its earthly imperfection. On
this point I may appeal to the feeling of us all; it is surely the same
in all. How fragmentary in the beginning are the manifestations of
this new life, and how limited the circle of its movements I How
long does it retain its sensitive places, which may not be touched
without pain, nor even without injurious consequences, and they are
ever those in which the old man in the hour of that death has beea
most deeply wounded. But in proportion as it is strengthened, this
new life, also, should not give the impression of its being only a
ghost-like life, as the disciples at first tremblingly believed they saw
a spirit, so that He was compelled to call in the testimony of all their
senses, that they might understand He was not a spirit, but had flesh
and bones. So our new life from God, if it consisted only in inward
dispositions and exercises which had no adaptedness, perhaps no
tendency, to pass over into action, which were too peculiar and
separate to be shared with others, so as to excite them to good fruits,
but could touch them only coldly and shudderingly, what could it
be but a ghost-like phenomenon, which might attract attention indeed, but without winning belief, which might indeed disquiet men
in their wonted courses, but without effecting any improvement
34




530    FREDERICK DANIEL E. SCHLEIERMACHER.
therein. No, an active life it is, and should become steadily more
and more so, not only nourishing itself and increasing ever, in
strength, through the word of the Lord and through inward communion with Him, to which He calls us while offering Himself to us
as the food and drink of eternal life-but every one should strive to
make his new life intelligible to others who stand about him, and by
means of it to influence them.
Oh that we might set the risen Saviour more and more steadfastly
before our eyes! Oh that we might copy from Him that beatific,
heavenly breath, by which He communicated of His Spirit to His disciples! Oh that we might learn like Him to animate the stupid and
drowsy hearts to a happy belief in the Divine promises, to active
obedience to the will of their Lord and Master, and to the cheerful
enjoyment and use of all the heavenly treasures which He has laid
open to us! Oh that we spoke with ever-increasing strength to all
around us of the kingdom of God and our inheritance therein, that
they might see wherefore Christ must suffer, but also into what
glory He has entered. So we wish, not with empty wishes! The
vivifying Spirit which He has acquired for us, worketh all this in
every one according to the measure which pleaseth Him; and when
once the life from God is kindled in the soul of man, when once, as
the Apostle says, we have become like His resurrection, oh then His
powers also evince themselves, through the operations of His Spirit
in us, more and more richly and gloriously for the general good.
But, once more, the life of the risen Saviour with all this efficiency
and power was, in another sense, a retired and hidden one. Doubtless
many besides His disciples may have seen Him, to whom He had
been known in His previous lifewhen He went hither and thither,
to show Himself to His disciples, from one end of the land to the
other; how could it be otherwise? But the eyes of men were holden
now that they did not recognize Him, and He made Himself known
only to His own, who belonged to Him in faithful love. Even to
those He says, " Blessed are they that see not and yet believe;" and
how few were they who were favored with the sight of His countenance, even although we count in the five hundred mentioned by
Paul, compared with the multitude of those who afterward believed
on Christ through their testimony of His resurrection. So my
good friends, the new life also in which we walk, although it is and
should be active and vigorous, and ever-efficient for the kingdom of
God, is at the same time an unknown and hidden life, unknown and
hidden to the world whose eyes are holden. He, therefore, who
would go forth to thrust the knowledge of it on the world, who




CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.                    531
would hit upon extraordinary measures to call their attention to the
difference between the life of sin and the life of the resurrection, he
would not walk in the likeness of the resurrection of the Lord. The
cotemporaries of Christ had opportunity enough to inform themselves
after His resurrection, for they saw the continued and unbroken as.
sociation of His disciples; so our cotemporaries see us associating
together not with any reference to the things of this world, and if
they inquire into the connection, neither shall they lack the answer
But we will as little press our inward history upon them as the risen
Jesus forced His presence on those who had slain Him, and therefore
wished not to see Him. As He appeared only to His own, we too
will reveal our inner life only to those who are in like manner ours,
and who, glowing with the same love and exalted by the same faith,
can say to us again how the Lord has manifested Himself to them.
Not at all as if we ought to practice a secret and exclusive way of
life, and those only who have had quite similar experiences should
form narrow circles by themselves, for even the days of the resurrection furnish us the example of diversified experiences and of an inner
fellowship connected therewith. Not only so; for even those who
have no experience at all of this life go not empty away. Only must
they first of themselves become conscious, without our pressing it
upon them, that here breathes a spirit to which they are strangers,
that here a life is revealed of which they have known nothing.
Then will we, as was done then, lead them by the word of our testimony to the grlound of this new life, and as at that time, when the
preached word pierced the heart, when to some the old man began
to appear in his true light, and they felt the first pains which precede
the death of the sinful man, as to them then arose the faith in the
resurrection of Him whom they had crucified, so will it ever be with
the recognition of the new life proceeding from Him who rose again.
Therefore will we not be anxious; continually will the circle widen
of those who perceive this life because they begin to share in it.
And no sooner does the slightest suspicion of this arise in the soul
of man, no sooner does the perishing and corrupt nature of this world
cease to please and satisfy him, no sooner does his soul drink in the
first beams of the heavenly light, than his eyes are opened and he
feels what a different thing it is to serve righteousness from living in
the bondage of sin.
III. But finally, my good friends, we can not thus feel all that
is comfortable and glorious in the likeness of our new life to the res.
urrection of our Lord, without at the same time being touched with
sadness at another aspect of this resemblance. For when we put




532    FREDERICK DANIEL E. SCHLEIERM.LCRER.
together all which the evangelists and apostles of the Lord Lave pre.
served to us concerning, the life of His resurrection, we still are not
enabled t) form from it the conception of a coherent, complete,
and thoroughly self-conistent existence. There are separate moments
and hours, particular conversations and transactions, when the risen
One is lost to the inquiring gaze. In vain do we ask where He tarries, we must wait till He appears again. Not as if it had been so
in itself, but for us, my good friends it is so, and can not be other.
wise, and we vainly strive to penetrate into the intervals of these
scattered moments ard hours. What then? Is not the case of the
new life which resembles Christ's resurrection the same? Not at all
as if it were limited to the glorious, surely, and beneficent, but still
infrequent hours of public worship and devotion, for then we should
have reason to fear that it was only a delusion; not as if it were limited to the few and scattered deeds, visible and tangible, so to speak,
to the surrounding world which we perform, each in his measure,
through the gifts of the Spirit, for the kingdom of God, but in manifold other ways are we conscious of this new life, there is many a
stiller and more secret moment when it acts powerfully, though deep
within.
Still it remains true, and I think all, without exception, must
confess that we are by no means conscious to ourselves of this
new life as an entirely continuous existence. Too often it is lost to
each of us, not only amid the joys, the distractions and cares, but
also amid the commendable occupations of this world. This experience, however, my good friends, humiliating though it be, should
not make us unbelieving, as if perhaps the consciousness that we are
a new creature in Christ Jesus were a deception, and what we have
regarded as expressions of this life only morbid and extravagant
excitement. As the Lord convinced His disciples that He had flesh
and bones, so can we also convince, each one himself, and mutually
convince each other, that this is a real, active life. If so, we must
believe too, that even when hidden and unconsci')us, it still always
exists, as the Lord always existed, and even at the time when He
was lost to His disciples had neither returned into the grave, nor yet
ascended to heaven.
But let us not overlook this difference. In Christ we do not
conceive of it as something natural and necessary that during
those forty days He should only lead a life in appearance so broken,
while perhaps every one must understand that since the influences
of this new life can only by degrees become perceptible in our outward conduct, it should often and for a length cf time be quite




CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.                  5,33
hidden from us, and especially when we are occupied with our
outward doings, and have our attention fixed on them. Still this
remains an imperfection, and we should, as we go on, become nlore
and more free from it. Let us, therefore, my good friends, ever
anew resort to Him who is the fountain of this new spirit and life I
Then shall we find it, though we find it not in ourselves; oh! we
find it always with Him, and always afresh it streams forth from
Him the Head, to us His members. If every moment in which we
do not perceive it, is, when once we become conscious of its absence,
a moment of longing, oh, so is it a moment in which the risen Saviour appeais to our soul, and breathes on us anew with His quickening power. And thus while drawing only from Him, we ought to
come where His heavenly gift in us may constantly grow to be a
never-failing, an always-gushing and bubbling fountain of spiritual
xnd eternal life. To this end is He risen from the dead, through the
glory of the Father, that we may become like His resurrection.
That ended in His return to the Father; our new life should ever
more become His and the Father's return into the depths of our
affections; there should they both make their abode; and evermore
continuous, evermore active and powerful should the life from God
in us become, that our life in the service of righteousness may even
here, according to the promise of the Lord, be and remain an eternal
life.
To this end do Thou, oh exalted Redeemer, help us evermore,
through the contemplation of Thy glory! As Thou art exalted
above the earth, so draw us evermore toward Thee I As Thou didst
walk in the days of Thy resurrection, so let us evermore live and
walk only in the bonds of love and faith which Thou hast established
among Thine own, and from Thee receive more richly nourishment
and strength for our spiritual life. And as Thy resurrection was
blessed to Thy disciples for the establishment of Thy kingdom on
earth, for the raising up of the feeble-minded, for the banishing of
despondency from the human heart, and the opening of the Scripture in its deepest mysteries, oh, let our new life also, through Thy
Spirit's power, become evermore a proclamation of Thy Word, and
of all the mysteries of Thy grace, a loving support of all that is
weak, a powerful summons to life for all that is dead, a still and
undisturbed enjoyment of Thy love, and of the blessed fellowship
with Thee in which Thine own do stand. Amen.




DISCOURSE THIRTYiNINTH
DR. KLAUS HARMS.
THE celebrated Archdeacon of Kiel was born MIay 25, 1778, at
Fahrstedt, a village in Holstein.  He was the son of a miller, and
learned the rudiments of the languages with the preacher of the village,
at the same time attending the mill and working on the farm. In his
nineteenth year he entered the school at Meldorf, studied till 1799 at
Kiel, and became tutor. In 1806 he was chosen deacon, and in 1816
archdeacon at KIiel.
Harms was distinguished as a pulpit orator. His words were said to
flow forth with ease and fluency, often rushing, powerful and energetic,
as a torrent, and his style is simple, original, and perspicuous.
In 1817 he published Luther's ninety-five Theses, with ninety-five
others. The latter were directed against the prevalent rationalism, and
Iad to a violent controversy. In 1819 he refused a call to ac't as bishop
of all the evangelical churches in Russia; and in 1834 he also declined
an invitation to go to Berlin to succeed Schleiermacher as a preacher.
He was honored for his boldness, openness, and benevolence, even by
those who were opposed to his theological views. His influence was
widely felt in the revival of evangelical religion in Germany. He is the
author of several volumes of sermons, which have passed through repeated editions; such as, a "Summer Postil," a "Winter Postil," a
" New Winter Postil," etc. He died in 1852, universally lamented and
reverenced.
The sermons of Harms present some striking singularities. At times
there is an oddity of method and an apparent straining at effect which
mar the impression of the discourse; but his sermons every where ex.
hibit originality in the application of his texts, and a remarkable freedom
from routine in his plans, and in the invention of his arguments. An
intense ardor of feeling, which forgets conventional restraints, seems to
pervade his whole train of thought, so as almost to require for its utterance at times the help of song; nor does he scruple to avail himself of
the hymn of the congregation, by suspending the sermon (as will be
seen) for that purpose.
The discourse which follows is one of the Summer and Winter PostiLs,
Leipsig, 1836, vol. i. p. 83.




THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.                 535
THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.
Dear friends, a false rest has crept in among you. —Forgive me
this severe expression, thus without any introductory, mitigating
preface, and let us hasten to meditations which require haste!-A
false rest has crept in among you. For, tell me, on what do you
rest?  Is it not true? your treasures, which crowd out the care for
food, your boasted capabilities, shooting up proudly out of the hard
soil of wealth, your friends, who cover you with their protection and
foresight against every accident-these are your couch. And do
you not consider that this couch is one of danger, and therefore
your rest on it a false rest? Nay, but you do not rest! Tell me
in what do you rest?  Is it not true?  In the sweet thought of
knowing that which you ought to know, being that which you ought
to be, and having done that which you ought to have done? And
whence this thought? It was brought to you by teachings in which
you learned nothing, by patterns to which you had already attained,
by precepts which had long been followed by you, or which you
never could follow. This sweet thought cast you into slumber, and
your beguilers accompanied it with their song.
Ah! would ye already sleep and rest? Have you already ceased
to be children who need still to be learning? Sinners who must
make themselves better? Idlers whom one rouses to toil? Rest
would you? Have you then no goal lying in the distance, and a
prize after which your soul longs? A goal toward which your
whole life must proceed, a prize which hangs in eternity? A goal
which allows no respite, a prize which grants no hour to forgetfulness? Fortunate men, I envy you! Nay, no irony here! I envy
you not, for your rest is a false rest, and I hope, if Thou wilt, O
God, to come to the true rest. Now have I indeed no rest; now
must I complain, ever complain, when I look up to my goal; I see
my heaven and tread it not, I know my salvation and reach it not,
I search after my happiness and find it not, and my conscience
says to me then, " Thou art a child, a sinner, an idle servant."
Would you not learn my goal and hear my complaint?
For a man shall give me the text for this discourse who himself
discoursed the doctrine of God, who could say to men, "Follow
me!" who built up the Church of Christ in the lands of the heathen,
and who still was obliged to confess that he yet ever fell short of his
goal, never yet had attained his goal. Paul says:
" Not that I have already apprehended it, or am already perfect, but




536                   KLAUS HARMS.
I follow after it if that I may apprehend that for which I am Sppre
hencded by Jenus Christ. Brethren, Icfount not myself to have appre,
hended it. But one thing I say; I forget what is behind and reach
after that which is before, and press forward toward the goal, the prize
which the heavenly calling of God in Christ holds forth."  Phil. iii.
12-14.
These words of the Apostle teach me, allow me to speak out today, MY GOAL AND MY COMPLAINT.
Pardon me, friends, for speaking of myself. Why should I turn
the language so as if I spoke not while yet out of my heart it
flows?
MY' GOAL.-When Paul, in the verses preceding our text, counts
every thing as naught compared with religion, that heavenly guide,
when he esteems every thing as loss and dross which before had
kept him from the better knowledge of Jesus, the Sent of God,
when he praises Christianity because he hopes to find in it the true
righteousness, or the peaceful, gladdening, strengthening, beatific
consciousness of the Divine favor, and calls that his prize, which he
would apprehend; then he teaches me to name my goal; My goal
is blessedness in God. Or, God is my goal; there, far removed- above
all that is visible on the earth, He is the Invisible of heaven 
Away beyond the years of time, He is the Eternal of eternity!
Yea, in the sun-bright glimpses of Faith, my dull spirit hath caught
a vision of the Invisible; I have pressed the Eternal to my mortal
heart-no longer mortal now-but eternal like Him. Therefore is
God my goal; to know Him better, my soul's desire; to love Him
more warmly, my heart's wish. For this have I been whole years
a diligent scholar of the learned, whole years have I studied in
learned books, and God, in discourses and books, God have I not
found. God is not contained in human science, not an object and
discovery of science, otherwise He, the Creator, would have cast
from His hand, as if in contempt, those who lacked all capacity for
science; otherwise I would murmur against Thee, my Creator, because Thou hast not given me more understanding, more acuteness,
firmer thoughts; and oh I the thousands, the millions whom Thy
will has turned to the soil that they may till it, or led into a work.
shop to toil for their daily bread. Creator, Thou wert not a Father,
if men could behold Thee only with the telescope of science which
they can not use. God is not science, God is a thought, a thought
given to us from above, one which, when it arises in the soul, is ac.
companied by this other. "These thoughts I have already had
before." Even as Jacob exclaimed, "God is in this place, and I




THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.                537
knew it not;" so the "believer in God, when the Bible message
comes to him, "I knew not that God was in me, that I had His
thought." Take this thought from the soul, and you have made a
gash in its tenderest life, you have extracted the marrow of its
strength, you have extinguished the light of its eve. God is a
thought; how shall I awaken, confirm, and expand this thought?
ro know God better is my soul's desire. For with Him only do I
live. Why should I care for a life which I can live without God?
Is that a life when I pursue animal lusts, unmindful that I am a
being of noble birth? Is that a life when I stoop to graze in the
fields of sensual joy, in company with those who are ignorant of
the pastures of the soul? Is that a life when I delight myself in
idleness, when with good health, and free from oppressive thoughts,
I sleep soundly and have no other aim than what I can half accomplish while asleep? God is my goal and my life. To know
Him better is my soul's desire. For God is my strength. I have
proved how weak I am without Him. When I would avoid a sin
without His fear, I was not able. Would I practice a virtue without His love, I could not do it. Did I encounter sorrow and God
not at my side, I trembled and fainted before the least sorrow. God
is my strength. With Him I have the courage to go on improving
myself; with Him I have the power to persevere in good works;
with Him I am not afraid to pursue my earthly pilgrimage though
enemies encamp around my path, nor to descend into the fearful
jaws of the grave.
God is my goal and my strength. To know Him better is
my soul's desire. For God is my light. Hear it; I perceive nothing without God, I know nothing without God, I see nothing
without God. Ye men round about me, should I, without Him,
look upon you as what you are, my brethren? Worldly good,
should I without Him regard this as the gift of the gentle Father
in heaven? My health, should I look on it as a boon which I must
esteem and cherish? My life, would I drag it on to the seventieth
and eightieth year if I did not consider it in God's light? God is my
light. Where I carry Him all is bright, in my science, in my pro.
fession, in the general course of things, in my personal fortunes.
Oh, that I could carry God every where, God, my light  That I
had God with me at all times; God my strength! That I constantly and every where felt God in me; God my lifel How blessed
should I be I God is my goal. To know Him better is my soul's
desire. To know Him is to have Him, to have Him is to love Him,
to love Him is to trust in Him. Oh, when shall I come to know




638                   1KLAUS HARMS.
Him fully, that I may have Him fully, love Him fully, trust in Rim
fully? Daily will I read, when He discourses, the words of the
holy men who speak in the Bible, moved by His Holy Spirit; daily
will I go on to observe God and His way through the world; daily
will I go on to watch my soul and its divine exercises; daily will I
pray to God, since prayer is at once the contemplation and the study
of God; and will go on till the vail falls from my eyes, till the world
disappears and I see Him face to face, and am blessed, blessed in
God. That is my goal. Is it not also your goal? Then let us sing,
every one from a full heart, the sixth and seventh verses of hymn
391. (This Hymn begins, "How blessed am I when my soul.")
" I too (and thus His truth hath said),
I too shall once be blest.
Hail, soul, by God's own finger made,
That thou in Him mightst rest I
Here seest thou through a dawning light
What angel's better trace;
Thou, too, shalt there enjoy the sight
Of Jesus, face to face."
And thanks be to Thee, O God! especially for Thy divine word,
in which the knowledge of this goal was first brought to our ears I
Thanks to Thee, oh Jesus, that Thou hast shown the way thither
and hast gloriously gone before!
The Apostle Paul was an Israelite, and according to the laws of
Moses, had led an irreproachable life. If any other man could
boast, he more. But after Christ had apprehended him, and led
him to Christianity, he had come under other, higher laws, the observance of which appeared harder to him, their righteousness impossible. Yet did he long after this as his goal, confiding in the
promise of Jesus that God would regard every man as righteous who
walked according to the rules of Christianity and cherished this belief. That is Christian virtue; my goal is, secondly, virtue. I have
grown up among men such as the world gives; I have 1earned the
corrl pt doctrines of the vile; my heart is contaminated by evil examples; in short, I have not continued in innocence. Therefore
have I been obliged to labor and must still labor to restore it; which
is to become virtuous, for virtue consists in the restoration of our
primitive innocence.  At first I did not deem  this necessary.
"Wherefore" thought I, " should not thou do what thy heart lusteth
after, what pleaseth thine eyes?" But I soon saw how speedily that
would be at an end. Then I thought to restrain myself and live




THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.                    539
after the former way, indeed, but within the restraints of decorum
and respectability. The world applauded the youth, but his heart
was not pure, his way tended from bad to worse, for he had brought
understanding into a wicked life. I planted certain virtues in my
soul, which pleased men and gained me advantage, industry, energy,
friendship-but they throve poorly for they stood in a poor soil.
There was no rest, no peace, and every joy left a bitter taste behind
So spend thy life, so sacrifice thy youth, merely for youthful gratification? Shall youth so swallow up youth, and life itself so consume
life? Wherefore then that power which is not employed for this,
and yet in this is lost?  Wherefore this heart which beats high, and
underneath is not satisfied? " Then virtue dawned upon me, I collected her features in the disposition of good men, I sought her expression in the actions of great men; then stood forth her beautiful
image before my soul. Virtue is my goal, virtue is purity of soul.
The whole ground is cleared of the weeds of evil inclinations and
desires. The strongly-rooted, far-branching stem of selfishness is
plucked up. The noble plants are cleansed from the vermin of
groveling motives. Measures are taken against the fear of man,
which is as a frost, and the mildew of false love.
Virtue is soul strength. In pure souls dwelleth God and His strength.
She contends with the serpent of restrained lusts, which would coil
about the good heart and extort from it a sin; she contends with the
dragon of passion, which with fire and fangs would constrain it to desist
from its good purpose, to break its holy vows; she contends against
the wolves in sheep's clothing for free doctrine and a free path, for
her life in her faith; she contends with the cunning ones in the
guise of doves for her own and her upright neighbor's honor, tears
the false mirror from their hands and dashes it against the wall. She
contends even against fortune, against the pressure of poverty,
against the infirmities of disease, against the hardships of an inferior
condition. She is oppressed but not suppressed, deprived of power
but not of will, hindered but not held back. Virtue is my goal.
Virtue is freedom. What can constrain the strong unless he impose
fetters on himself?  What can bend him unless he take burdens on
himself? The old fetters are broken; he has escaped from the enticing look of the harlot, she is escaped from the sweet words of the
seducer, he has broken off from the society of profligates, she has
ceased to hold intercourse with backbiting friends. The former burdens are thrown off, the tears of anxious parents, the impressive
admonitions of well-meaning instructors, the heavy words of depart.
ing friends; the thought of troubled joys and of sorrow brought




540                   KLAUS HARMS.
upon ourselves, the feeling of happiness mocked and of misery de.
served, the fear of man, the pangs of conscience, the trembling dread
of God-in heartfelt repentance such burdens are thrown off. Free
and lightly the spirit advances toward ever more beautiful deeds,
produces ever more glorious works, its aims ever more pure, ever
more comprehensive its plan, ever higher its endeavor, ever more
apid its course; nor does it look about it until it is at the goal. Virtue is my goal. Virtue is blessedness. It can not be otherwise in a
disposition which nourishes the most beautiful thoughts and carries
in itself the consciousness of good deeds. It can not be otherwise
in a heart which preserves the purest feelings, and cherishes the
most transparent designs. Not otherwise can the soul think itself,
which imitates God, and receives the favor of the Most High as a
pledge of a still happier time-not otherwise than blessed. Virtue
is blessedness. Virtue, when shall I attain unto thee? Can it possibly be while I wander in this dying body, while I live among sinners?  Alas I far distant am I yet from thee, from my goal I Yet
I know thee, and my soul hangs on thee and will not let go thy
image which has made so lively and indelible an impression on my
heart. Am I still far away? Courage; I go on forever I Friends,
virtue is my goal; is she not also your goal? Then let us sing the
first verse of 103.
"Fair virtue, worthy highest honor,
Entire affection, warm desire 
With all my powers to hang upon her,
My wishes oft and hopes aspire.
How blest could I attain to this I
For holiness is surely bliss."
Who is it that stands on the sunny heights of virtue and calls down
to us sinners, "Follow Me I" That is Jesus. Behold, Lord, we comel
No other Apostle had labored more than Paul. Although not
scorning to render lesser service to human society by the work of
his hands, he pursued the great business of gaining adherents to the
Church of Christ. For this he shunned no danger on the land or
on the water; from this he desisted not, though scourged, and
stoned, and cast into chains; and how carefully did he watch over the
congregations which had been established I He praised and reproved,
he admonished and encouraged, he turned away false teachers and
commended the true, and supported these with his countenance and
advice. Individuals also found refuge with him, comfort, advocacy.
Silver and gold had he none, but what he had, what he could, he de.
voted to the common weal. This was usefulness, universal benefl3ence




THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.                   541
My goal is, in the third place, usefulness. Men commonly be.
gin with this, because it stands lower. With this, too, I was in.
clined to begin. But this is not the way, for then corruption and
vanity lurk behind. No, the true order is first to gain the heights,
and then descend to what is lower, first to strive to become virtuous, and then useful. True usefulness is virtue itself brought
practically into human life. It has a wide field.  All, all are embraced in my love. I would serve all. Herein I recognize no relationship; we all spring from one blood, and one blood was shed for
us all. Herein no nearness avails; the heart is created wide, and I
would reach forth a neighborly hand of love to all, however remote.
Herein fatherland counts nothing; we have all one Father, and let
me fraternally share with all. Herein I know no diversities of language; I see thy grief in thy countenance; thou betrayest thy necessity in sighs which are every where intelligible; and I will hasten to
stand by thee. No differences of religion I God's sun with friendly
ray shines over all, and shall I be unfriendly to him who worships
God not in my way? No distinction of rank I Ye are building the
earth, I heaven; thus are we both laborers for God. Ye are for rectitude, I for virtue-they are fruits of one stem, on which we graft.
Ye make sure the body and goods, I the soul and eternal salvationreceive our thanks for relieving us from so many hindering cares;
ye all serve and help me; I can, I will be useful to all of you;
that is my goal.
Usefulness is my goal.  It has a wide field and many gifts.
But the whole world is also one great scene of poverty. Here
one lacks a friend, and he seeks my friendship; these have lost
father and mother, and appeal to me for assistance; there weeps an
unfortunate, and longs for comfort from me; and here a child of
misery sighs, to whom I must give help and deliverance. One com
plains of injustice which he has suffered; and I will speak in his behalf. Another cries out by reason of the oppressor, and I will lend
him my arm. This one I see pursuing a dangerous way, and I will
go with him and be the light of his feet. That simple one would
plunge into the abyss of eternal ruin, I hasten and become his delivering angel. There an association of the friends of humanity are
gathered for philanthropic ends; I will contribute to them what I
have, my views, my powers, the cool repose of my reflection, the
warm blood of my love. Here an office is laid upon me, in other
words, the way is pointed out in which I should be useful, the men
are indicated to me to wnom I should be useful; to these men,
therefore, is my time, my toil, my meditation, my care, my anxiety,




542                     KLAUS HARMS.
my vigilance devoted; and with it all my love, all-purifying, all.
quickening, all-elevating, and all-mightily-strengthening love. Use.
fulness is my goal.  It has a wide field, it has many gifts, and
it gives with pleasure.  It gives and seeks not how little it may give.
It gives and defers not till a set time comes. It gives and asks not
" what shall I have in return?" It gives and reckons not whether
it gives too much. Thus it gives of its property, of its time, of its
powers of body and soul, of its health, of its blood, of all things it
gives to all at all times.  In return, it has the love of all, the confidence of all, the prayers of all-greater treasures in exchange for
less-and the approbation of the Father of all, who beholds this,
and looks upon it as if it were given to Him. Usefulness is my
goal. Thou, Jesus, didst attain to the goal by the struggles of Thy
short life; on the high cross Thou wert at the high goal. To Thee
will we often lift our eyes, and will strive to follow Thee in the
path of beneficent activity. Let us sing the fourth verse of 766:
(It begins, " Dear as is my own existence.")
"All to succor, freely blessing
All, as once the Saviour blest,
Guiding, soothing, wrongs redressing,
Word or deed, as serves them best;
Foe to each unrighteousness,
Friend of all the human race I"
Now, as you have seen my goal, listen also to MY COMPLAINI,
I must first thank God, friends, that He has set that high goal
before my eyes, that He has brought me to the knowledge of the
Divine life, that He has afforded me proofs of His strength, that He
has directed the beams of His light to me. Others He leads in other
ways, and may also with me sooner or later proceed in a different
way. I followed this heavenly call; I began a Divine life, I tasted
the delight of the life in God; I hastened to the battle, and was
refreshed by God's angels after the stifling hour; led by the gleaming of the heights, I went down confidently into the dark deeps
of human life, and many an appalling mystery became to me as
clear as the sun. How light the heart then! How blessed the soul I
Fleet thoughts, bring me, O bring the hours of joy, the moments
of heavenly delight, all back I
" What has been should be forgotten when the brighter goal is seen I"
Onward, therefore, I must go; not basking in recollection with
comfortable idleness. AMore lively must the life of God become in
me, His strength stronger and His light more clear  in a word I




THE GOAL AND THE COMPLAINT.                 543
ought to know God better. How I am to begin I know well: if I
search the Scripture; if I mark God and His way through the world,
if I observe my soul and her higher exercises; if I pray without
ceasing; so shall I know God better.
Ah I here must I complain, and my complaint respects, first, my earth.
ly-mindedness. It is that which sets up for me a goal in time and in the
visible world, riches, honor, pleasure, and it has the advantage of near-'ess and attainableness on its side. It is that which fills me with pleas
ure in earthly things, when I mingle with them only in needful ways,
which imperceptibly binds my heart to them. It is that which not only
solicits my participation, but claims my time and my strength for the
goal which it has set up. I ought to read my Bible; indeed that is
my book; that is to me the book. But too often I take the time from
it and bestow it on other books, which should give me still more
light and joy than the Bible; and a thousand times deceived, I suffer
myself always to be deceived yet again. I ought to mark God and
His ways through the world; but the carnal mind teaches me to give
heed to myself and consider how I shall come out. I ought to observe my soul and her higher exercises; but the earthly mind turns
my attention to my bodily state, to the insinuations of my lower
nature, and to the thousand things, beneficial or injurious, to gratify
or disturb me, which stand in connection with it. I ought to pray
-that is not a matter of the earthly mind, it flies from prayer as
from death, and prayer is its death-and then it has many evasions
and delays and proposes difficult questions to the soul. " When," it
asks, " has God heard thee? Can the Allwise regard prayer? He
with whom law avails and not the creature?" Man's wish is fleeting,
the law is eternal; and when I attempt to pray, the earthly mind
now brings before my eyes the parti-colored waves of the worldmarket, or awakens the recollection of some loss experienced, or
leads my thoughts to some negligence in business, and my pious
thoughts of prayer must depart. Therefore must I complain, complain
of that worldly-mindedness by which I am hindered in my course.
Oh that men would only help me; would encourage, stimulate,
impel me forward; would go with me on the way to the goal I Example is the food of sense, yea, the food of the earthly sense. If
I complain of it, 0 men, I must at the same time complain of you,
earthly-minded ones round about me/ Whom do I see leading a truly
godly life? Who goes before me in heavenly strength? Whom
do I find walking in the light of God? And whom do I not find
deluding himself in the unreal gleams of earthly suns? Who trusts
not proudly and presumptuously in his own weakness? Whom do




544                  KLAUS HARMS.
I not see thinking of the world, longing after the world, spending
hours in the invisible,years in the things which are seen? That is
my complaint, that the path to the goal of godliness is so deserted
I look around me and perceive no one; I listen and hear no one; I
call and no one answers; I wait and no one follows me. Therefore
do I complain!
Is not the path of virtue so desolate? No I many are climbing
that path. I myself even have made happy progress therein. I am
no longer the sensual man whose desires set up the goal for him before whom the prize glances in lust. I am no longer the hypocrite,
who, with the shield of good standing and respectability, would
belie the wicked practices of his soul. I am no longer the false
lover of virtue, who loves her when and where she is tolerated, when
and because she brings some advantage. What joy had I then
which has not brought sorrow upon me? what honor which did not
cause me shame? what advantage which has not turned out an injury? I deem myself happy that I have reached this stage; that I
have outlived that.
" What has been should be forgotten, when the brighter goal appears."
Yes, truly, I am far from having attained as yet. I am still far off
from perfection. Three rounds, the three lower rounds of the heavenly ladder, I have mounted; and a thousand more I must yet ascend.
How much have I to accomplish before my soul becomes pure as
innocence; before my soul becomes strong as virtue; before my soul
becomes free and blessed as the saints made perfect are now I
The thought extorts from me a new complaint. My complaint
has respect to my weakness. I spy still many a weed in my soul, but
I lack that unwearied perseverance which ceases not until they are
thoroughly cleared away. I am forever lopping off selfishness, but
I lack the resolution, sustained by subsequent diligence, to lay the
ax to its root. I do not ask first after advantage, but I often propose to myself many other questions no better; and I have not always
power over myself at once to set them all aside. I strive and give
way. I contend and retreat. I struggle and fall. Alas  therefore it
is that I come not to the consciousness of purity of heart; that I come
not to feel strength of will; that I come not to the glad experience
of freedom in my soul I My weakness I my weakness I while I bear
it. I can not win the prize at the goal I Weakness I They call thee
the inheritance of man-art thou indeed so? Then bringest thou
comfort with thee I Or, art thou my own work; conceived and born




THE GOAL AND  THE COMP; AINT.                   545
in my sin; nourished by my indolence; grown up during my heedlessness; a badly trained child; and now mistress over me? Therefore I complain of my weakness.
And where shall I gain strength? Who finds equanimity among
mourners?  Who gets courage among those that are in distress?
No more can I acquire strength among the weak. And if I complain
of my weakness, I must at the same time complain of the weak who
are round about me. I see many lying prostrate; withered by the hot
blasts of blazing lusts; and see still more caught by the storms of
excited passions, hurled hither and thither; and see that all find a soft
satisfaction in the breath of prosperity and sensual joy. I see many
lured bythe bait of human applause; and I see still more retire thunderstruck by the appalling sentence, " Then thou art not Cesar's friend I"
and I see that all look around them to discover what signs are made.
It occurs to few to contend with their fortune; still fewer begin the
contest; and who holds out until he has triumphed over poverty,
disease, and inferiority of condition, unless luck soon comes to his
aid?  What can such profit me?  I will rather pursue my way
alone; wander solitary; and if it goes slowly,
" Still courage shan't forsake me;
He who the goal has shown,
He to the goal will take me."
Alone, and yet not parted from men; solitary, and yet in the
midst of my brethren; I will henceforth live. He who can not help
me, him I perhaps can help; and, according to my ability, must help.
To that have I applied my years, my youth, my powers; and my
brightest joys have been when something had been effected through
me for the welfare of my brethren. Be still, my soul, be still I
"What has been should be forgotten, when the brighter goal appears."
Allow thyself no thought of that; still less speak of it; think of
thy selfishness, and mourn over it. Say freely, without concealment
" It is no angel that stands before you, sent forth to serve others,
with no destination, no employment, no joy, but this simple service."
It is a man that stands before you, one who has to care for himself also;
one who has permission to build his own fortune, but who often goes
beyond this, and builds his own fortune where another's fortune lies in
ruins; and with too little sorrow on that account. Who often pleads
the needful cares of himself to excuse his perhaps unbecoming and
unneeessary rigor. Who devotes to you love, but is beloved in return.
Who devotes to you his strength, but never all. Who devotes to you
35




54f                  KLAUS HARMS.
his time, but never the most of it. Who is not insensible to the result
of his efforts, not at all insensible to human applause and the reproach
of men. Who zealously follows the good when it is noticed, and dili.
gently portrays the beautiful when it is perceived and appreciated;
and who in all these respects, very often, alas, sees himself wanting.
A man, in fine, who has the goal of usefulness before his eyes, and
would gladly reach it, but is yet far from having reached it, and
therefore complains, complains of his unsubdued selfishness.
Yet let me offer by way of apology, that the task is hard. Indeed
if in the whole neighborhood; if in the whole place; if in the whole
congregation; if in the whole land, an effort after usefulness were
visible, I should have more encouragement and incentive, and should
advance more happily toward my goal. But where every one first
perceives his own advantage, and never last; where men press forward
for honor's sake, and shrink back for convenience, or from fear of
man; where few labor for the common cause, and almost no one with
the right earnestness; where few contribute to the common advantage,
and almost no one any thing of importance and value; where the
schools and eleemosynary institutions cry with a thousand voices,
" The good spirit of beneficence rules not over us, pray have compassion"-there I will not complain of myself alone; there I will not
complain any more at all.
And I have done for to-day. What I said in the beginning,
" Dear friends, a false rest has crept in among you," I believe I have
now shown. I would not beat the air, neither would I harm any
one; therefore I laid hold of myself and spared not. My aim is
reached if your rest has been disturbed by to-day's discourse; if your
eyes have been opened to discern the goal; if my complaint has
awakened your complaint, and you have resolved to break up and
pursue the goal which is set before you. So will you "find restfor
your souls; true rest. Ah, it is quite possible that we are all too far
off still from the Man who, in the language just uttered, has pointed
us to Himself. The word stands written in Matt. xi. 29.




DISCOURSE FORTIETH,
DR. LUDWIG FR. FRANZ THEREMINTHEREMINI was born in the year 1783, at Gramzow, in the northern
part of Prussia, where his father was preacher in the French Church.
He studied with his father, and at Berlin and Halle. After this he spent
a year in Geneva and was ordained in 1808. Two years after this he was
called to the Werder Church, Berlin, where, in 1815, he was appointed
Court Preacher, and in 1840 Professor Honorarius in the University at
that place. IIe died in 1846.
Theremin was held in the highest estimation for worth of character,
and in the view of no inconsiderable part of the German people, had no
superior as an eloquent and efficient preacher. It has been remarked
that in his religious character he resembled Thomas a Kempis and Feneion, though in decision and boldness, as well as oratorical power, he was
more like Massillon.
His published works best known are " Evening Hours," " Adelbert's
Confessions," "The Doctrine of the Kingdom of God," "Eloquence a
Virtue, or outlines of a system of Rhetoric," and several volumes of
sermons. His published writings are considered among the most classical
in the German language. The sermon here given is translated from
volume vi. of his discourses, and is one of his famous series of " Ser.
mons on the Cross." It contains passages of singular beauty, and force
of expression; and is rarely excelled in fresh and tender effusions of
feeling, and a pious zeal to loosen the affections from earth, and attach
them to things above.
THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAVES.
"And there was Mary Magdalene, and the other Mary, sitting over against the sep.
u]cher."-MATT. xxvii. 61.
The great offering was completed. In His tomb lay the Divine
Dead; the stone was rolled before the door; the shadows of night




548         LUDWIG FR. FRANZ THEREMIN.
had already settled upon Jerusalem, Mount Olivet, and Golgotha.
There sit two women, vailed in the darkness of night, and in the
deeper darkness of their own sorrow. They sit by the grave. They
cling to the spot which inclosed all that wam left to them of the best
beloved of beings. The night grows darker and darker: the stars step
forth and look down upon the Holy City: then the two Marys arise,
and take their departure from the grave, with a long, long, lingering
look behind. And now, it is alone, in the midst of the darkness,
watched only by the hosts of unseen angels.
Only once a year, beloved Christians, is the grave of Jesus Christ
exhibited to you: this grave, once sealed, and now again, as it were,
already here opened before your eyes. Yet the graves wherein ye
deposit your loved ones, they open, they close daily, though never
more to open before you again while here below. Especially has
this year been abundant in the offerings of death, which have populated, in crowded rows, the resting-places of the departed. Go ye
also hence: sit down by the grave: that fresh one, or that other already long moss-covered one, which incloses the remains of those
unspeakably beloved by you. Hasten not away: linger there!
Listen! There rise voices out of those graves, which impart to you
weighty instruction. And what do they teach?
A twofold and difficult art.
First, how we should die; and secondly, how we should live.
Who can describe the grief of those two Marys, as they sat
over against the grave of Jesus? What they experienced was something inexpressible; something fearful. It was the most extreme
anguish which any pious, God-given-heart could ever experience.
In order to feel like them, must we have loved Christ as they
did? must we have known Him in His gracious manifestations upon
earth, and been the witness of His crucifixion?
Not so great, but yet surely great enough, will be the grief
with which we shall sit by the graves of our friends. In every man
there is something striking, something beautiful: there is some feature of the Divine image, which oftentimes while he lived, was less
observed, but after his death reveals itself more distinctly to view.
Formerly we thought of his failings.  At his grave his virtues
hover about us. These are now hallowed by the close and divinely
established connection between us and him. It was our friend, the
playmate of oar youth: it was our brother, our sister, born and
nurtured by the same parents: it was a father, a mother, a wife, a
child. What fullness of excellence, and in respect to us, what a fullness of love, of happiness, has gone down and lies here buried!




THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAVES.                  549
How, then, is all this dissolved!  0, sad story! it is befitting
that we repeat thee often in sight of the graves! As when the
disease began which terminated in death, so now again do we feel
strangely, sadly, anxiously. Then as the malady progressed, rising
and falling, so rose and fell also the anxiety within our inmost souls.
Earnest efforts for their recovery alternated with exhaustion and'est; clearness of mind with the dull stupefaction of grief. At last
thou camest, thou great, God-sent, solemn, terrible moment, of the
last gasp, of the closing eye, of the stiffening hand! Shattered, and
crushed to dust, lay now that temple built by God! The mortal
wreck attracted, and then again repelled: you could neither linger
by it nor keep aloof from it: not long could it be suffered to remain
in the house: it was carried away: ye followed, and it was as if ye
were led to your own burial. Ye came to the place where the
earth was opened for its reception: it was let down quickly: the
dirt was hastily heaped upon the dull-sounding coffin. Then arose
the mound against which you now sit, and experience these feelings
afresh.
Yet this is not by any means the most fearful part of it. The
Lord has so ordained that a sense of loss is ever accompanied with a
sense of guilt. That man is not to be found, who, when he suffers,
can say, I suffer innocently, I have not deserved it. Conscience
cries, Thou hast deserved it, and if a thousandfold worse had befallen thee, thou wouldst still have deserved it all. God ever maintains the right when man is judged. There are times when the distinction between trial and punishment, (which is indeed oftentimes
a very just distinction,) vanishes; and when, to the person tried,
the conviction pierces through the joints and marrow, "I am punished. Punished! although not for this or that particular sin, yet
because of my whole sinful heart and life."  Ah  and in comparison with this crushing feeling, this sense of loss deserved, incurred
by your own guilt, your pain at the loss itself appears but
trifling.
And should these feelings be intensified? Shall we call them
up in sight of the graves, where they will pierce our hearts yet
far more keenly! Will the heart itself then not be torn thereby?
Yesl and this should be so; it should be torn by them; yea, it
should die thereby. But this dying which the graves instructs us in,
is not simply that which awaits us at the end of our days, but it is
one to wLich we are obligated even while we live. It is that which
the Apostle intended, when he said, " I die daily." It is the death
of a world-devoted, sensuous, sinful, ambitious, covetous, vain,




550          LUDWIG FR. FRANZ THEREMIN.
proud life which must of necessity cease, if the true life in God
through Christ is to begin in us.
What lies here buried? " It is," so ye say, " the bliss of my life;
it is my own heart, which has been torn out from my breast, in order
to be interred here." Then, with your bliss, it is all over also with
your light, careless, joyous life. Would that you might look unto
this; that you might impress it deeply upon your mind I That ye
might without any weak lamentation, give yourself up to this earnest
conclusion. The true joys which yet may bloom for you, they are not
the joys of the seen, but of the unseen world. They are the joys of
faith, of holiness, of beneficence; of communion with God in Christ.
But every thing which is derived from this world, its goods and its
attachments, even though it be but an innocent pleasure, for you no
more exists. Seek, then this heavenly joy, and cease once for all to
pursue the joys of earth. How I when that fearful blow smote you,
had ye not then all that your heart desired, gold, preferments, distinctions, houses, goods! Are ye less unhappy because ye possess
all these things? Have ye wrung your hands less in pain? Have
ye sat upon your couch through the long nights and wept less?
Then see what help there is in such objects I They can help you
nothing, nothing I This should every one know; and if ye know
it not after such experiences, then is it altogether unpardonable. If
your bliss is dead, as ye say, then must not ye also be dead with it?
Your bliss, if it has been a true bliss, lies indeed not here buried.
It is preserved for you in heaven. But, O, would that every wish
which desires aught from the goods and joys of earth, might here
lie buried I All floods of tribulation have come: one foaming wave
after another has swept over your heart: it has been washed and
purified: all the filth of this world has been cleansed away: and
now shall this filth again so soon settle upon you? In your dwelling you have sat like Job, dumb, surrounded by dumb and speechless friends; the anguish was so great that of itself it closed the
mouth to sympathy: and now shall this dwelling be again the scene
of thoughtless mirth, and resound with vain laughter? No, no I
with Christ was the world crucified unto His friends; with our
friends let every worldly feeling be buried I
Gladly indeed will I assume that ye, my beloved, no more belong
altogether to the living, that is, to those in whom this sinful, vain,
proud life fully rules. Yet ye sit not before me as altogether dead;
nor do I, as one such, also speak to you. What are we then? We
are hovering between living and dying; we are engaged in a
death-struggle. Ye have learned to know, what this state is, in that




THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAVES.                551
which lies buried before you. It is an unrest, an anxiety, a turning
hither and thither, a struggle, a grasping, a confusion of thoughts.
So, precisely so, does it stand with you. Sin is in the process of
dying' but it is not yet quite dead. Ye would slay it, and yet ye
can not be altogether delivered from it. The last deep germ of sinfulness, complacency in yourselves, yet remains. Therefore have
ye no peace I Ye turn from the world to God and from God to the
world. The sin ye commit is, thanks be to God for it I a torment to
you; but the virtue which ye practice, 0 how sad I this is so like.
wise. Oh! have mercy upon yourselves, and crush at a blow this
yet dominant sinful life I When the conflict of your departed friends
was over, what rest came in at once; how did an expression steal over
those peaceful features, which one could almost call a smile! Truly
the rest of death has something of the rest of heaven. So will you
feel; so quiet and so calm will you remain, amid all the noise and
all the confusion around you, as one serenely smiling in death,
when you have slain the last remnant of sinful life in yourselves.
But there are perhaps among you such as have not yet at all
come to this death-struggle; and who, in the full bloom of their
sinful life, are still traveling on in the highways of this world.
These also have their graves. For where is there one among you
from whom something dear has not been snatched away. They
have their graves; and yet, can they be so vain, light-hearted, and
thoughtless! 0 youth, youth! couldest thou have formed these
equivocal associations, while thinking of the place where rest
the ashes of thy father and thy mother, and of the feelings with
which thou sawest their coffin sink out of sight? Ye widowers, ye
widows! ye who, as the Scripture requires, should be in solitude,
placing your hope in God, and remaining in prayer and weeping
day and night, would ye seek such false consolations, if ye thought
of the spot where that one rests, whom ye called the half of your
heart and of your life, by whose side ye expect to lie down at last'.
Ye mothers, seek ye still to please the world, enjoy ye yet its
soul-poisoning favors, while the lovely countenance of your child is
dissolving in corruption, deep under the earth? "I will turn back,"
so spake that old man whom the Scripture exhibits to us, and so
shall we all speak, young and old, men and women-" I will turn
back, that I may die and be buried by the grave of my father and
my mother."  " I will turn back;" the way in which I walk, this way
of sinful life leads to death-vea, to death eternal, to the abyss of
frightful darkness. "I will turn back, that I may die," that I may
now (lie to sin, that I may live for God, and in the future dwell




552         LUDWIG FR. FRANZ THEREMIN.
eternally with Him, and enjoy His light. " That I may die I" every
thling comes indeed to this —this is the great problem which must be
solved. Without dying there is no life and no blessedness. By "the
grave of my father and my mother," by the grave of my wife and my
child, —so shall my sorrow over them be sanctified, and my deepest
affliction become the most powerful means of securing my bliss
But ye say, "Never have we learned the art of dying at the
graves of our loved ones; properly, literally to die; to look on death
without dread." Nay, indeed, ye have learned this from what I have
said already: for spiritually to die, this is the best, this is the only
sufficient preparation for actual dying. What excites us so against
death? What makes us so recoil from the thought of our own pale
and lifeless corpses? Not surely a divine and holy life; for this ex
ults in view of the moment when it shall break through all restraints
and reach the primal source of all blessedness. Not the love to out
relatives and friends; for we know very well, and our unerring
consciousness teaches us, that all we who love in the Lord, shall in His
own presence find again that the separation is short, and the reunion
unspeakably blissful. That which excites us against death, on the contrary, is this earthly, sinful life in us, which feeds upon the pains that
the world prepares for us, and nevertheless clings fast to the world, and
refuses to let it go. Let this life be mortified, and death is easy. But
it died at the grave of our friends. It must there have died. There
appeared to us the angel of death, and spake, "Set thine house in
order, for thou must die." And we answered, " It is done. My sins
are confessed and repented of; and for the expiation of this great
guilt, have I pointed to Him who has pledged Himself upon the cross
for me. My account with the world is settled; let it keep its joys,
its goods, and its honors. I need them not. Long have its occupations seemed to me but as a sad drama which soon terminates. I
yearn not eagerly after it. This he only does who loves it, and
whom it scorns. I quietly await God's command; and when He
beckons, then will I, cutting loose from all earthly things, lay myself joyfully down, —and sleep."
Which is the more difficult, living or dying? I know not: yet
to live rightly appears to me the hardest. It is hard to deny one's
self; to undergo privations; to mortify all sinful inclinations; to
sever all the ties which bind us to the world; and, when God calls, to
resign the spirit back into His hands with joy. But perhaps it is
harder still to walk on in this dark vale with patient courage; to
be content not to see, and to take up with the blindness of faith; to
tread in the footsteps of the Saviour without backsliding, and never,




THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAVES                  553
either from inclination, or from weariness, or from compliance, to
yield to temptation, turning neither to the right nor to the left; to
endure the weaknesses and the failings of brethren, and also ol*
own, without distrusting ourselves or them; to love our brethren
as ourselves, and ourselves not more than our brethren; and in
labors of love toward them to continue on until hearts shall break
*n death: so to live, I say, is perhaps more difficult than to die; or
rather we attain the one, as well as the other, through the Divine
grace. Only must our hearts stand perpetually open to the reception of this grace, and the disposition to receive it, we strengthen
and preserve, while lingering by the graves of our friends.
Ye Marys both I 0, had ye yet longer lingered by that grave I On
Saturday morning was the watch set and the stone sealed; that Saturday-and the night of Saturday passes over to Sunday. Had ye been
there, what had ye seen? The earth quakes! A form bright as the
sun, and in its movements swift as the lightning-it is an angel of
God-rolls the stone from the grave! There is Jesus Himself, He
who was dead, there rises IHe bright and glorious! This would ye
have seen-such visions are to be had at the grave!
There sit we, with a grave before us. It is a bulwark cast up between time and eternity. Our eye may not pierce it. Below, works coruption, and the form whirch once contained a beloved spirit, is crumbling into earth. Has that alone died? No; we also are following after.
Soon our dust will rest by the side of his; the dust of our children
and of our children's children will soon be added; generations bloom
and generations fade; ever more and more, of those who enter upon
the surface of the earth, are sinking again below it. The world is
nothing more than one single, great, continuous grave. As it swings
around the sun in its accustomed orbit, like a true mother, it carries
the dust of her children in her bosom I Ye heavenly hosts, ye look
down upon it from above, and we are almost among you. Thither
flies the spirit, at the moment when it parts from its earthly shell,
There shall we be ever united with all who have gone before us, anG
those who follow after us; and often shall we direct our glances of sympathy and sorrow towards our early home. Finally comes the hour;
the seed is ripe for the harvest; the human race is ripe for judgment.
The Lord descends with His angels; the graves open upon the
heaving earth; and the glorified dust is united with the soul's spirit.
ual body. This we see in the spirit-herein are we absorbed-for this
conviction we thank the Saviour whose grave quaked in the hour of
His resurrection; and more mighty, more powerful grows in us the
life of that faith, which does not doubt, of what it has not yet seen.




554         LUDWIG FR. FR&NZ THEREMIN
Comfort yourselves with these hopes, these prospects What sor
row-even that not excepted which is excited by this grave-what
sorrow, would be yet unendurable were we only to think upon dying
and immortality? But this dear deceased one, has fought many
an ardent conflict, endured many severe tribulations. All this is
now passed l There is no longer cause for weeping. His heart is
tuned to one eternal triumphant song. Soon, soon, wilt thou also be
sufficiently proved, and shalt strike in with His jubilant strains I Carry
all thy sorrow to this grave! If oppressive care lies heavily upon
thy heart, if men assail and defame thee, if in the faithful discharge
of duty, the shame of Jesus Christ falls to thy lot, then come to this
grave-here supplicate that fatherly hand which has thus far led you
through life, with eyes closed, in a way that you knew not. Here
wilt thou suffer; yet thereby, also, learn to live, for living is sufering.
But besides, with these sufferings, many joys were mingled.
Oh! what a time was it, when in company with those whose bodies
now molder, the sun rose and set upon us; when we with them
worshiped the Lord in the beauty of His visible creation; with
them celebrated His festivals in the bosom of the congregation; and
with them united in His holy Supper I What a time was it, when in
each interview respecting the most important events of humanity,
we became conscious of a deeper inward harmony with each other;
when we mutually encouraged each other to stand fast and unmoved
in the faith which works by love, though the world around might
turn to the right and the left! And are these seasons forever gone?
Yes, from earth-but not from heaven. What lies behind us was
beautiful; what lies before us, is more beautiful still. With them
shall we there behold the everlasting sun, which never goes down;
with them shall we celebrate those holy festivals which in heaven
ceaselessly continue; the Lord, concerning whom we have so often
spoken, shall we with them behold, face to face; and perfect will
be the harmony of our spirits, which, while here below, could
unite in nearly all, but not in every point. Then in place of enjoyment, let earnest aspirations arise. The life of desire is superior to
the life of enjoyment.  The life of desire is the true life of the
heart, which can be satisfied by no earthly happiness, not even the
greatest. Paul experienced this desire when he spake, "I have a
desire to depart and to be with Christ, which is far better." John
experienced this desire when he cried out, "My beloved, now are
we the children of God, and it doth not yet appear what we shall
be, but we know that when He shall appear we shall be like Him.




THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAVES.                 555
for we shall see Him as He is."  By the grave of our friends will
our hearts break forth into this holy longing.
What, then, befits those who have these desires in their hearts,
and heaven in their eye?  Should they keep holiday and rest?
Though our happiness may be gone, our work is not yet done.
Hereafter will our body find rest by the dust of our friends, and our
spirit in the midst of beloved spirits; hereafter will they call to us,
saying, " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, for they rest
from their labors, and their works do follow them." Works! what
works? there are yet none done. Where is our talent? There it is,
wrapped up in a napkin, and buried; but it has not yet increased.
Works I even good works, have we done, perhaps many; but it was
because we must, or because we did not wish to stand with shame in
the presence of our fellow-men, or for the sake of our own honor and
distinction. But solely and altogether for the sake of that Jesus
from whom alone we are expecting happiness, what have we done?
Nothing! And would we appear before Him thus? would we enter
thus into that circle to which those belong, who ever were wont to
think on Him first, and on themselves last? Well, there yet perhaps lie before us some few days and years. And these should be
prized by us, not as days and years of this miserable earthly life, but
as days and years of activity for God's kingdom, and the more speedily
we accomplish that which devolves upon us, the more swiftly will
they fly.
What, then, should we properly do? Can we ask this question
at the grave of our deceased friends? Wherefore was the funeral
solemnity adorned with the glistening of so many tears? Wherefore
did all come and depart with moistened eye? Wherefore is the memory of their dear spirits yet treasured up in many hearts where all else
is vanishing? Perhaps it was because the deceased was young, rich,
lovely? O, if he had been nothing but this, survivors might perhaps
shrug their shoulders and say, " How extraordinary I how sad I" but
they would feel no sorrow. Perhaps, again, he excelled greatly in
science, in art, or in state service. If nothing more than this could
be said, then you might, forsooth, hear the exclamation, " Science, art,
the state, have lost much;" but no heart would feel as if it had lost
any thing. Perhaps, further, he was distinguished by high honors
and dignities; alasI had these constituted his whole worth, then might
his badges of distinction, all spread out upon his coffin, speak, if they
could, but the language of sighs and of tears would be wanting.
No, ye dear departed ones I ye are so heartily lamented, because ye
so heartily loved I Your memory is thus faithfully cherished, because




556         LUDWIG FR. FRANZ THEREMIN.
ye were faithful in your affections. When the objects of your love
here rested in the arms of slumber, then did ye watch over them in
solicitude and in prayer. If some poor sufferer needed support, or
one deeply bowed with grief required to be comforted, none hastened to them sooner than ye: and to whom did men apply so readily
as to you, when they sought for sympathy either in joy or in distress?
They knew well, that the interest ye would take in both the one and
the other, would be the same as if it had happened to yourselves.
Therefore it is that men have not been able to remain indifferent to
your memory; and for the sake of your love will ye be lauded here
upon earth, as well as yonder in heaven. Love, love is what we
must cherish toward our brethren, if over our death we would have
them weep on earth, and those in heaven rejoice!
But what accusations are these sounding forth from the graves
upon our ears? It is not as if they, the dear departed ones, were
accusing us. But our own consciences are uttering the chargel
O my father I my mother I ye whose earthly remains are slumbering beneath the sod, have I duly requited your abounding loveyour watchfulness, your anxieties, your privations, endured on my
behalf?  Have I never grieved you?  Have I never been disobedient to you?  Have I, when I could not but perceive that
ye erred, yet honored your error?  Have I, when all was dark
around you and within, when both the light of the eye, and the light
of the spirit was quenched, have I still been dutiful toward you
with filial reverence and love? 0 my child! my darling child!
thou so early snatched from me! Verily parental love is great, it is
the strongest here upon earth, and with this am I indeed conscious
of having loved thee-yet, oh, have I never sacrificed thy training
to my pleasures, or preferred to thee thy brothers or sisters? 0 my
brother! my brother!  Alas! that brotherly affection should suffer
such interruptions! Alas! that a self-chosen friend should ever be
dearer to us, than he whom God has given to us I Alas! that one
should weep too late when a brother is taken away I 0 my husband I
my husband I would that I had performed that which I vowed before God, and thee, and myself, to fulfill on the day of our espousals I
Would that I had not so often let my self-will and the caprice of my
eye prevail, instead of following the dictates of affection! 0 my
wife I! should I not have loved thee according to thy worth? Now,
now since thy dust rests under the mound, I feel, I feel how far my
affection came short of thy deserts I
Listen to these complaints, ye happy parents I children I spouses I
whose domestic circle has hitherto been spared by death I Listen




THE VOICES OUT OF THE GRAIVES.               55]
to them, and let them warn you. A separation awaits you all, and
then will it be an unspeakable balm for the wounded heart, to think
that ye have loved these departed ones-that ye have loved them
not for your own sake, but for theirs; and have cheerfully brought
to them all the offerings of affection. 3ut a tormenting sting will
be added to your grief-a scorching fire will burn in your bosoms,
if ye fulfill not the expectations of the dear deceased ones, who
look to you, next to God, for their happiness, and thus deceive their
hopes. As often as feelings of dissatisfaction and bitterness ariseas often as ye grow cold in your love, and in your attentions, 0, ask
yourself, would I be guilty of this word, this act, this neglect, were
he on the morrow to lie cold and lifeless before me? To-morrow I
who knows it?  In fact he does lie before you, cold and lifeless.
Press back that morrow into the past, and dare to be the severe
judge of your own conduct! To-morrow there will be no more
time to love, to enjoy, to comfort, to edify I O do it to-day, and so
be laying up comfort for the morrow I
But ye, ye who stand by the graves of your dead, and mourn
that ye have not loved them enough, what should ye do? So much
the more love that Jesus, by whom ye can obtain forgiveness for
your sin; so much the more love those who still survive to you.
" Me ye have not always," spake Christ, "but the poor ye have always with you." And His disciples loved the poor-they loved one
another for the Lord's sake. Those ye have no more; but many
still remain among you, toward whom you may still prove helpful,
comforting, gladdening. Do it for Jesus's sake-the best-beloved
among all the dead I Do it, in order that you may find those again,
whose loss you deplore, in that kingdom where love only reigns!
It is enough; we must here break off. Sweet, indeed, is it to linger
by the graves; but it is time to leave them. Only one petition must
we add. May the Lord, who has Himself rested in a grave, so bless
the spots where our dust shall hereafter lie, that none shall be able
to visit them without feeling strengthened to new life in Christ I —
Amen.








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THE IRISH PULPIT.
THE materials for a history of preaching in Ireland are so scanty and
unconnected that a brief sketch is all that can be given. Indeed, the
limited extent to which evangelical religion has there flourished, would
of itself justify this.
The period and the circumstances of the introduction of Christianity
into Ireland, notwithstanding the numerous particulars and confident
traditions which have been given to the world, are not well authenticated. Approaching the time of the Reformation, however, it is known
that Ireland participated in the changes effected by that great movement. In 1536, Robert Brown, who had been provincial of the Augustinians, was appointed Archbishop of Dublin. In compliance with
directions received from England, he engaged zealously in the work of
reformation, and was particularly active in the removal of images and
other relics of superstition from the churches. Dowdal, Archbishop of
Armagh, violently opposed him, calling an assembly of his clergy and
denouncing fierce curses against all who should own the king's supremacy in things ecclesiastical. But little, therefore, was accomplished.
Even during the brief but beneficent reign of Edward VI., the work
did not progress. The Protestants were few in number, and were ex.
posed to all kinds of annoyance from the furious papists. The Archbishop of Dublin, however, persevered in his efforts. Dowdal was ban
ished, and the primacy was transferred from Armagh to Dublin.
John Bale, appointed Bishop of Ossory,. in 1552, was a devoted and
efficient laborer in the good cause.
The fierce persecutions under ZMary, in which nearly three hundred
individuals, many of whom were ministers of the Gospel, glorified God
in the fires of martyrdom, did not reach Ireland. A singular dispensation prevented it. Inquisitors had been appointed, and the most oppressive proceedings ordered; but Dr. Cole, the bearer of the commission, addressed to the Lord Deputy of Ireland, arriving at Chester on
his way, and stopping at an inn, was overheard by the landlady, to say
of the contents of a leather box which he bore, holding the commission,
"lHere is what shall lash the heretics of Ireland." The mistress of the
inn, who was a Protestant, and who had a brother residing ih Dublinl,
36




662                 THE IRISH  PULPIT.
watched her opportunity, and when Dr. Cole was in another room,
opened the leather box, took out the commission, and placed in its stead
a pack of cards. Arriving at Dublin, Dr. Cole declared his errand to
the council which had been assembled, and proceeded to lay before them
the royal commission; when, lo! upon the opening of the box by the
Secretary instead of the commission, a pack of cards was found, with
the knave of clubs placed uplpermost. All were startled; and as they
could not proceed without a commission, Dr. Cole went back to England to procure another; but Queen Mary was smitten by death before
he could return to Dublin, and papal persecutions were stopped.
Of the struggles between Popery and Protestantism in Ireland during the time of Elizabeth and some succeeding reigns, which were often
of a decidedly political character, it falls not within our province to
speak. The established religion has remained that of the Church of
England; but the masses of the people have been under the influence
of the see of Rome. Ireland has always been a priest-ridden land, and a
mighty school for the propagandists of the Romish faith. There are
at this time, with a population of six million five hundred and sixty
thousand, two thousand four hundred parish priests, as many regular
brothers, one hundred and forty convents, nunneries, and monasteries,
and twenty colleges, at the head of which is the royal College of Maynooth, with its five hundred students.
But the papal influence is far from universal. This is especially the
case in the North of Ireland. In Ulster, the Protestants were, a few
years since, as one to two; and in Leinster, as one to five and a half.
The number of Protestant Episcopal churches in Ireland, in 1700, was
four hundred and ninety-two; in 1800, six hundred and twenty-six; in
1830, one thousand one hundred; in 1848, one thousand three hundred and fifty-four. The present number of Episcopalian ministers, or
those of the established Church, is about one thousand six hundred.
The following outline of the character of the Episcopal pulpit, is from
a clergyman whose familiarity with the state of things in that country
enables him to speak intelligently:*
"In the Protestant Episcopal Pulpit of Ireland, there is a combination of British thought and Hibernian illustration. The fact that Ireland has been deemed, since the union, a colony of Great Britain has
tended to foster the spirit of English supremacy among the Anglican
dignitaries, and hence the English clergy are received into the Irish pulpit, while the Irish brethren are not received on equal terms into the
pulpits of the Established Church on the other side of the channel.
This circumstance, combined with the means of training a native ministry, in Trinity College, Dublin, for the Irish branch of the Episcopal
Church, has given a sui generis character to the Irish pulpit. Hence it
is that while the British theology is identical with that of the Irish
* Rev. Robert Irvine, Hamilton, Canada West.




THE IRISH  PULPIT.                      563
Church, there is a fervor and an eloquence in the Episcopal Church
of Ireland, which eclipse the Anglican divines. It is to this fact in a
main degree, that such men as Dr. McNeil and Mr. Falloon, of Liver.
pool, are by far the most popular men of that commercial metropolis.
These men have been preaching for years to crowds, while many of the
Oxford and Cambridge divines, in the same city, are preaching to empty
walls. Both of these men are natives of the province of Ulster, and
their ministry has been signally blessed. There is a considerable infusion of the Oxford element in the Irish pulpit, though as a general
thing, it is by no means so glaring as in England.
" The Protestant Episcopal Church in Ireland is much more evangelical than in England. This arises from the rampant spirit of the papacy
in the South and West, and from the controlling influence of Presbyte.
rianism in the North of Ireland. The hostility between the two practical systems in the one region, and the predominating influence of Presbytery in the other, have conspired to keep down the arrogance and the
intolerance of an establishment. Besides, a very considerable number
of the leading dignitaries in the Irish Church are evangelical men.
Though Archbishop Whately's views on evangelical religion are somewhat dubious, still his political opinions have always rendered him unpopular with the High Church party. Then Lord John of Tuam, the
grandson of a Presbyterian, has been a truly evangelical man for a good
number of years, having, it is said, been led to the Saviour by the filial
and pious advice of a beloved daughter on her dying bed. Bishop
Dailey of Waterford and Cashel, is an eminently pious and excellent
man, truly evangelical, and most devoted. These worthies, with others
whose names it is not necessary to mention, have done eminent service
to the cause of God in Ireland, and within the range of their respective
Episcopates hundreds of conversions from Popery have recently taken
place. There is, on the whole, very little sympathy with Oxonian Theology on the western side of the British channel, while many of the
Episcopal pulpits are filled with men of distinguished talent and eminent
piety."
A strong Presbyterian influence has also existed in Ireland for two
centuries. The rise of these churches, and the character of their pulpit ministrations are thus sketched by the same pen:
"The Presbyterian Church of Ireland had its origin in the settlement of immigrants from Scotland, on the 10th day of June, 1642.
The first Presbytery was constituted at Carrickfergus, the borough
town of county Antrim. It embraced some five ministers, with as
many elders. The sermon was preached from Psalm li. 18, and it is
worthy of note, that on the same day of the month, being the Lord's
day, in 1842, precisely two hundred years afterward, every minister of
the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Ireland, preached
from the same text. Thus it was that from five hundred pulpits, on the




564                THE IRISH  PULPIT.
same day, the glorious Gospel was preached from on6 and the same
text —the Church having multiplied precisely one hundred fold in two
centuries. That solemn day was thus commemorated by appointment
of the General Assembly.
"After the Secession under the Erskines and Fishers, in Scotland, the
adherents to their views planted churches in Ulster, and these were,
for a century, or nearly so, the two distinct branches of Presbytery
the one called the'General Synod of Ulster,' and the other,'The Se
cession Synod.' These two bodies represented respectively the Established Church of Scotland and the Secession Body. In 1840, these two
branches of Presbyterianism merged into one, and assumed the name
of' The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Ireland.'
" One thing which tended very much to keep the two bodies apart
for such a length of time was, the fact that ARIANISM had found its
way into the Synod of Ulster, and from 1826 till 1829, the controversy
between truth and error was maintained with great vigor, the champion on the side of Arianism being Dr. Montgomery of Dunmurry, and
on the side of Trinitarianism, Dr. Cooke of Belfast.
"During the five years embraced between 1824 and 1829, the whole
of Ulster rang with the cry of' subscription' or' non-subscription' to
the Westminster Confession of Faith, as a test of admission to the min.
istry. The Arian party opposed subscription, the Trinitarian insisted
on it. The latter succeeded, and in 1829, every man having Unitarian
views was excluded fiom the Church.
" From that day it seemed as though the Holy Spirit descended on
the Presbyterian Church of Ireland. A missionary spirit sprang up in
every direction. The South and West of Ireland became her field, and
trom 1829 till 1840, the year in which the two bodies united, on an
average about ten churches annually were added to the Synod. Then
she organized a mission in the province of Katiowar, in India, where
she has six efficient missionaries laboring, the pioneer and chief agent in
this mission being Rev. James Glasgow, D.D.
"Soon after, she undertook a mission to the Jews, and she sustains
three missionaries in Damascus, and one in Hamburg, who are laboring
for the ingathering of the remnants of Israel.
"The Presbyterian Church of Ireland has an efficient Theological
Institute at Belfast, thp commercial metropolis of Ireland, with a staff
of efficient Professors. The Church insists on a full course of philosoph.
ical education prior to the study of Divinity, as essential to prepare
her ministers for the sacred office, and from this Church have gone forth
into the British coloniw as also into Scotland and England, some of the
most distinguished men The Presbyterian ministry in Ireland combine
the theology of the Scottish Pulpit with the elegance and taste of the
English. They are all well grounded in the dogmas of the Geneva
School, and they uutie with their sound theology, a warmth and an elo.




THE IRISH  PULPIT.                        566
qulence which generally render them acceptable in foreign pulpits. The
pulpit of Ulster is less dogmatic than formerly, the prelections of the
rostrum are more generally confined to their appropriate place than
formerly, and while the leading principles of a Calvinistic Theology per.
meate the whole of the Presbyterian pulpit in Ulster, they are accompanied by an evangelical unction which mollifies and sweetens the
truth."
The number of Presbyterian clergymen in Ireland, at this time, is
not far from six hundred and fifty; embracing five hundred and thirty.
five in the list of the General Assembly as active preachers, besides over
seventy licentiates and ordained ministers, who are without c.harge, and
under the care of the Assembly; over thirty who are connected with the
two Reformed Presbyterian Synods; and less than twenty who belong
to the Associate and Seceding Presbyteries.* Besides the Presbyterian,
there are about one hundred and fifty Methodist, and forty Baptist ministers in Ireland. From this it will be seen that the number of Protestant preachers in Ireland is nearly, if not quite, equal to the number of
Roman Catholic parish priests.
The Irish Protestant pulpit, embraces, to a certain extent, the best
elements of both the English and the Scottish. There is much of the
intellectual strength and compass of thought which is seen in the
Scotch writers, and of the purity of style seen in the English, with
far more of passion than is evinced by either. The national character.
istics-vivacity, quickness, shrewdness, imagination, and lively sensi.
bilities-are discoverable in the prevailing style of preaching. Eloquence is far more natural to the Irish than to their eastern neighbors,
They have furnished England with her best orators; and although the
Irish school of eloquence is condemned as too florid and hyperbolical,
yet is it, in no small degree, simple, chaste, rich, and elevated, as well
as hapetuous and energetic, and therefore highly successful.
* See "MCComb's Presbyterian Almanac," for 185566.




DISCOURSE FORTY-FIRST
JEREMY TAYLOR, D.D.
THIS celebrated prelate was born, the son of a barber, at Cambridge,
in 1613, and was educated in the grammar-school of his native place
and at Caius College. When he had taken orders he removed to London, where he was introduced to Laud, who procured for him a fellowship at All-souls' College, Oxford, in 1636. He was subsequently made
chaplain to Laud, and afterward to Charles I., and obtained the Rectory of Uppingham. During the civil war he sustained himself by
teaching, until he was interdicted from this employment. Lord Carberry then appointed him his chaplain; and in this position he wrote
some of his celebrated pieces. He was twice imprisoned by the Republican government. At the restoration he was made Bishop of Down
and Conner, along with which see he held that of Dromore, and the
vice-chancellorship of Trinity College, Dublin. He died in 1667.
The writings of Jeremy Taylor are well known; the most celebrated being his "Liberty of Prophesying;" "Holy Living and Holy
Dying;" together with his sermons. His style is distinguished by the
charms of imagination. No writer ever knew better than he, how to
captivate and ravish with the gayety and richness of a luxuriant fancy.
No writer excelled him in poetic splendor of imagery, in exuberance of
learning and wit, and in the graceful manner in which illustration glides
into argument, and comes fbrward to attract and to please. Some of
his compositions are like "a wilderness of sweets." The thoughts
hardly have opportunity to breathe, amid so much of dazzling beauty
and rich fragrance. In this direction his style is considered by many to
be open to criticism. There is a profusion of ornament-so much of glitter and show, as to call off attention from the body of thought to its
gay adornings. The eulogy of Dr. Rust, the friend and chaplain of
Taylor, is worth appending: " He had the good humor of a gentleman,
the eloquence of an orator, the fancy of a poet, the acuteness of a
schoolman, the profoundness of a philosopher, the wisdom of a coun.
selor, the sacacity of a prophet, the reason of an angel, and the piety
of a saint." The discourse which we give is one of the most celel




THE FOOLISH  EXCHANGE.                     567
tgrated. There are two upon the same text-it being a double sermon.
The second is taken, as presenting most of the author's peculiarities of
style, and as being in itself more complete than the first.
THE FOOLISH EXCHANGE.
"For what shall a man be profited, if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul I
or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?"-MATTHEW, xvi. 26.
When the soul is at stake, not for its temporal, but for its eternal
interest, it is not good to be hasty in determining, without taking
just measures of the exchange. Solomon had the good things of the
world actually in possession; and he tried them at the touchstone
of prudence and natural value, and found them alloyed with vanity
and imperfection; and we that see them " weighed in the balance of
the sanctuary," and tried by the touchstone of the Spirit, find them
not only light and unprofitable, but pungent and dolorous. But now
we are to consider what it is that men part with and lose, when, with
passion and impotency, they get the world; and that will present
the bargain to be an huge infelicity. And this I observe to be intimated in the word lose. For he that gives gold for cloth, or precious
stones for bread, serves his needs of nature, and loses nothing by it;
and the merchant that found a pearl of great price, and sold all that
he had to make the purchase of it, made a good venture; he was no
loser: but here the case is otherwise; when a man gains the whole
world, and his soul goes in the exchange, he hath not done like a
merchant, but like a child or prodigal; he hath given himself away
he hath lost all that can distinguish him from a slave or a miserabl
person, he loses his soul in the exchange. For the soul of a mai all
the world can not be a just price; a man may lose it, or throw it
away, but he can never make a good exchange when he parts with
this jewel; and therefore our blessed Saviour rarely well expresses
it by y,,utozv, " loss," which is fully opposed to xieQo;, "gain;" it is
such an ill market a man makes, as if he should proclaim his riches
and goods vendible for a garland of thistles, decked and trimmed up
with the stinking poppy.
But we shall better understand the nature of this bargain if we
consider the soul that is exchanged; what it is in itself, in order,
not of nature, but to felicity and the capacities of joy; secondly,
what p ice the Son of God paid for it; and, thirdly, what it is tc




568                  JEREMY  TAYLOR.
lose it; that is, what miseries and tortures are signified by losing a
soul.
I. First, if we consider what the soul is in its own capacity to
happiness, we shall find it to be an excellency greater than the sun,
of an angelical substance, sister to the cherubim, an image of the
Divinity, and the great argument of that mercy whereby God did
listinguish us from the lower form of beasts, and trees, and minerals
For, so it was, the Scripture affirms that " God made man after
his own image," that is, "secundum illam imaginem et ideam quam
concepit ipse;" not according to the likeness of any of those creatures which were pre-existent to man's production, nor according to
any of those images or ideas whereby God created the heavens and
the earth, but by a new form, to distinguish him from all other substances; " He made him by a new idea of His own," by an uncreated exemplar. And besides, that this was a donation of intelligent faculties, such as we understond to be perfect and essential, or
rather the essence of God, it is also a designation of Him to a glorious
immortality, and communication of the rays and reflections of His
own essential felicities.
But the soul is all that whereby we may be, and without which
we can not be, happy. It is not the eye that sees the beauties of the
heaven, nor the ear that hears the sweetness of music, or the glad
tidings of a prosperous accident, but the soul that perceives all the
relishes of sensual and intellectual perfections; and the more noble
and excellent the soul is, the greater and more savory are its perceptions. And if a child beholds the rich ermine, or the diamonds of
a starry night or the order of the world, or hears the discourses of
an apostle; because he makes no reflex acts upon himself. and sees
not that he sees, he can have but the pleasure of a fool, or the deliciouspess of a mule. But, although the reflection of its own acts be
a rare instrument of pleasure or pain respectively, yet the soul's excellency is, upon the same reason, not perceived by us, by which the
sapidness of pleasant things of nature are not understood by a child;
even because the soul can not reflect far enough. For as the sun.
which is the fountain of light and heat, makes violent and direct
emissions of his rays from himself, but reflects them no further than
to the bottom of a cloud, or the lowest imaginary circle of the mid.
dle region, and, therefore, receives not a duplicate of his own heat'
so is the soul of man; it reflects upon its own inferior actions of par.
ticular sense, or general understanding; but, because it knows little
of its own nature, the manners of volition, the immediate instruments
of understanding, the way how it comes to meditate; and can not dis.




THE FOOLISH  EXCHANGE.                    669
cern how a sudden thought arrives, or the solution of a doubt not
depending upon preceding premises; therefore, about half its pleasures are abated, and its own worth less understood; and, possibly, it
is the better it is so. If the elephant knew his strength, or the
horse the vigorousness of his own spirit, they would be as rebellious
against their rulers as unreasonable men against government; nmry,
the angels themselves, because their light reflected home to their
orbs, and they understood all the secrets of their own perfection,
they grew vertiginous, and fell from the battlements of heaven.
But the excellency of a human soul shall then be truly understood,
when the reflection will make no distraction of our faculties, nor elkindle any irregular fires; when we may understand ourselves without danger.
In the mean this consideration is gone high enough, when we
understand the soul of man to be so excellently perfect, that we can
not understand how excellently perfect it is; that being the best way
of expressing our conceptions of God Himself. And, therefore, I
shall not need by distinct discourses to represent that the will of man
is the last resort and sanctuary of true pleasure, which, in its formality, can be nothing else but a conformity of possession or of being
to the will; that the understanding, being the channel and conveyance of the noblest perceptions, feeds upon pleasures in all its proportionate acts, and unless it be disturbed by intervening sins and
remembrances derived hence, keeps a perpetual festival; that the
passions are every one of them fitted with an object, in which they
rest as in their center; that they have such delight in these their
proper objects, that too often they venture a damnation rather than
quit their interest and possession. But yet from these considerations
it would follow, that to lose a soul, which is designed to be an immense sea of pleasure, even in its natural capacities, is to lose all that
whereby a man can possibly be, or be supposed, happy. And so
much the rather is this understood to be an insupportable calamity,
because losing a soul in this sense is not a mere privation of those
felicities, of which a soul is naturally designed to be a partaker, but
it is an investing it with contrary objects, and cross effects, and dolorous perceptions: for the will, if it misses its desires, is afflicted;
and the understanding, when it ceases to be ennobled with excellent
things, is made ignorant as a swine, dull as the foot of a rock; and
the affections are in the destitution of their perfective actions made
tumultlous, vexed, and discomposed to the height of rage and violence. But this is but the dexy diucuv, "the beginning of those
throes, which end nt t but in eternal infelicity.




570                 JEREMY TAYLOR.
11. Secondly: If we consider the price that the Son of God paid
for the redemption of a soul, we shall better estimate it, than from
the weak discourses of our imperfect and unlearned philosophy.
Not the spoil of rich provinces, not the estimate of kingdoms, nor
the price of Cleopatra's draught, nor any thing that was corruptible
or perishing; for that which could not one minute retard the term
of its own natural dissolution, could not be a price for the redemption of one perishing soul. And if we list but to remember, and
then consider, that a miserable, lost, and accursed soul, does so infinitely undervalue and disrelish all the goods and riches that this
world dotes on, that he hath no more gust in them, or pleasure, than
the fox hath in eating a turf; that, if he could be imagined to be the
lord of ten thousand worlds, he would give them all for any shadow
of hope of a possibility of returning to life again; that Dives in hell
would have willingly gone on embassy to his father's house that he
might have been quit a little from his flames, and on that condition
would have given Lazarus the fee-simple of all his temporal possessions, though he had once denied to relieve him with the superfluities
of his table; we shall soon confess that a moment of time is no good
exchange for an eternity of duration; and a light unprofitable possession is not to be put in the balance against a soul, which is the glory
of the creation; a soul with whom God has made a contract, and
contracted excellent relations, it being one of God's appellatives, that
he is, "the Lover of the souls."
When God made a soul, it was only." Let us make man in our
image."  He spake the word, and it was done. But, when man hath
lost this soul which the Spirit of God breathed into him, it was not
so soon recovered. It is like the resurrection, which bath troubled
the faith of many, who are more apt to believe that God made a man
from nothing, than that He can return a man from dust and corruption. But for this resurrection of the soul, for the re-implacing the
Divine image, for the rescuing it from the devil's power, for the reentitling it to the kingdoms of grace and glory, God did a greater
work than the creation; He was fain to contract Divinity to a span,
to send a person to die foI us, who, of Himself, could not die, and
was constrained to use rare and mysterious arts to make him capable
of dying; He prepared a person instrumental to His purpose, by
sending His Son from His own bosom, a person both God and man,
an enigma to all nations and to all sciences; one that ruled over al3
the angels, that walked upon the pavements of heaven, whose feet
were clothed with stars, whose eyes were brighter than the sun,
whose voice is louder than thunder, whose understanding is larger




THE FOOLISH EXCHANGE.
than that infinite space which we imagine in the uncircumscribed dis.
tance beyond the first orb of heaven; a person to whom felicity was
as essential as life to God-this was the only person that was designed, in the eternal decrees of the Divine predestination, to pay the
price of a soul, to ransom us from death; less than this person could
not do it. For although a soul in its essence is finite, yet there was
many infinites which were incident and annexed to the condition of
lost souls. For all which, because provision was to be made, nothing less than an infinite excellence could satisfy for a soul who was
lost to infinite and eternal ages, who was to be afflicted with insup*portable and undetermined, that is, next to infinite pains; who was
to bear the load of an infinite anger from the provocation of an eternal God. And yet if it be possible that infinite can receive degrees,
this is but one half of the abyss, and I think the lesser. For that
this person, who was God eternal, should be lessened in all His appearances to a span, to the little dimensions of a man, and that He
should really become very contemptibly little, although, at the same
time, He was infinitely and unalterably great; that is, essential,
natural, and necessary felicity should turn into an intolerable, violent, and immense calamity to His person; that this great God should
not be admitted to pay the price of our redemption, unless He would
suffer that horrid misery which that lost soul should suffer; as it
represents the glories of His goodness, who used such rare and admirable instruments in actuating the designs of His mercy, so it
shows our condition to have been very desperate, and our loss invaluable.
A soul, in God's account, is valued at the price of the blood, and
shame, and tortures of the Son of God; and yet we throw it away
for the exchange of sins that a man is naturally ashamed to own; we
lose it for the pleasure, the sottish, beastly pleasure of a night. I
need not say, we lose our soul to save our lives; for, though that
was our blessed Saviour's instance of the great unreasonableness of
men, who by "saving their lives, lose them," that is, in the great account of doomsday; though this, I say, be extremely unreasonable,
yet there is something to be pretended in the bargain; nothing to
excuse him with God, but something in the accounts of timorous
men; but to lose our souls with swearing, that unprofitable, dishonorable, and unpleasant vice; to lose our souls with disobedience, or
rebellion, a vice that brings a curse and danger all the way in this
life; to lose our souls with drunkenness, a vice which is painful and
sickly in the very acting of it, which hastens our damnation by shortening our lives, are instances fit to be put in the stories of fools and




672                  JEREMY TAYLOR.
madmen. And all vice is a degree of the same unreasonabluess;
the most splendid temptation being nothing but a pretty, well-weaved
fallacy, a mere trick, a sophism, and a cheating and abusing the understanding. But that which I consider here is, that it is an affront
and contradiction to the wisdom of God, that we should so slight and
undervalue a soul in which our interest is so concerned; a soul which
He who made it, and who delighted not to see it lost, did account a
fit purchase to be made by the exchange of His Son, the eternal Son
of God.
To which I also add this additional account, that a soul is so
greatly valued by God that we are not to venture the loss of it to
save all the world. For, therefore, whosoever should commit a sin
to save kingdoms from perishing-or, if the case could be put, that
all the good men, and good causes, and good things in this world
were to be destroyed by tyranny, and it were in our power, by perjury, to save all these, that doing this sin would be so far from hal]owing the crime, that it were to offer to God a sacrifice of what He
most hates, and to serve him with swine's blood; and the rescuing
of all these from a tyrant or a hangman could not be pleasing to God
upon these terms, because a soul is lost by it, which is, in itself, a
greater loss and misery than all the evils in the world put together
can outbalance, and a loss of that thing for which Christ gave His
blood a price. Persecutions and temporal death in holy men, and in
a just cause, are but seeming evils, and, therefore, not to be bought
off with the loss of a soul, which is a real, but an intolerable calamity. And if God, for His own sake, would not have all the world
saved by sin, that is, by the hazarding of a soul, we should do well,
for our own sakes, not to lose a soul for trifles, for things that make
as here to be miserable, and even here also to be ashamed.
III. But it may be, some natures, or some understandings care not
for all this; therefore I proceed to the third and most material consideration as to us, and I consider what it is to lose a soul. Which Hierocles
thus explicates: "An immortal substance can die, not by ceasing to
be, but by losing all being well,"* by becoming miserable. And it is
remarkable, when our blessed Saviour gave us caution that we should
" not fear them that can kill the body only, but fear Him," (He says not
thatcankill the soul, but lT6v &uyu8vov xal qwvxA xaZ oaia drnwdaor at,,tE'
%,T) " that is able to destroy the body and soul in hell;" which word
signifieth not " death," but " tortures."  For some have chosen death
for sanctuary, and have fled to it to avoid intolerable shame, to give a
*'a2c otov rre Ti i4aWTW,   oio#6a Savairov potpa,peraAaXeiv, ob rT eor rT ffn elvat gx
BSaet d2ad, rf T7o E) elva a'roTrr'rael,




THE FOOLISH  EXCHANGE.                    573
period to the sense of a sharp grief, or to cure the earthquakes of
fear; and the damned perishing souls shall wish for death with a
desire as impatient as their calamity; but this shall be denied them,
because death were a deliverance, a mercy, and a pleasure of which
these miserable persons must despair forever.
I shall not need to represent to your consideration those expressions of Scripture which the Holy Ghost hath set down to represent
to our capacities the greatness of this perishing, choosing such circumstances of character as were then usual in the world, and which
are dreadful to our understanding as any thing; " hell-fire" is the
common expression; for the eastern nations accounted burnings the
greatest of these miserable punishments, and burning malefactors
was frequent.  "Brimstone and fire," so St. John calls the state of
punishment, " prepared for the devil and all his servants;" he added
the circumstance of brimstone, for by this time the devil had taught
the world some ingenious pains, and himself was newly escaped out
of boiling oil and brimstone, and such bituminous matter; and the
Spirit of God knew right well the worst expression was not bad
enough. fX6o1; 0,5rreog, so our blessed Saviour calls it, " the outer
darkness;" that is, not only an abjection from the beatific regions,
where God, and His angels, and His saints dwell forever, but then
there is a positive state of misery expressed by darkness, 60cpov ax6,rov,
as two apostles, St. Peter and St. Jude, call it, "the blackness of
darkness forever." In which, although it is certain that God, whose
justice there rules, will inflict just so much as our sins deserve, and
not superadd degrees of undeserved misery, as He does to the saints
of glory (for God gives to blessed souls in heaven more. infinitely
more, than all their good works could possibly deserve; and therefore their glory is infinitely bigger glory than the pains of hell are
great pains), yet because God's justice in hell rules alone, without
the allays and sweeter abatements of mercy, they shall have pure
and unmingled misery; no pleasant thought to refresh their weariness, no comfort in another accident to alleviate their pressures, no
waters to cool their flames. But because, when there is a great calamity upon a man, every, such man thinks himself the most miserable, and though there are great degrees of pain in hell, yet there are
none perceived by him that thinks he suffers the greatest; it follows
that every man loses his soul in this darkness, is miserable beyond
all those expressions which the tortures of this world could furnish
to the writers of the Holy Scriptures.
But I shall choose to represent this consideration in that expression of our blessed Saviour, which Himself took out of the prophet




574                  JEREMY  TAYLOR.
Isaiah, ", Where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched."
This is the aov6**tia;eipwUaL spoken of by Daniel the prophet: for
although this expression was a prediction of that horrid calamity and
abscission of the Jewish nation, when God poured out a full vial of
His wrath upon the crucifiers of His Son, and that this, which was
the greatest calamity which ever did, or ever shall, happen to a nation, Christ, with great reason, took to describe the calamity of accursed souls, as being the greatest instance to signify the greatest torment: yet we must observe that the difference of each state makes
the same words in the several cases to be of infinite distinction. The
worm stuck close to the Jewish nation, and the fire of God's wrath
flamed out till they were consumed with a great and unheard-of de.
struction, till many millions did die accursedly, and the small remnant became vagabonds, and were reserved, like broken pieces after a
storm, to show the greatness of the storm and misery of the shipwreck:
but then this being translated to signify the state of accursed souls,
whose dying is a continual perishing, who can not cease to be, it must
mean an eternity of duration, in a proper and natural signification.
And that we may understand it fully, observe the place in Isaiah.
The prophet prophesies of the great destruction of Jerusalem for all
her great iniquities: "It is the day of the Lord's vengeance, and the
year of recompenses for the controversy of Sion. And the streams
thereof shall be turned into pitch, and the dust thereof into brimstone, and the land thereof shall become burning pitch. It shall not
be quenched night nor day, the smoke thereof shall go up forever;
from generation to generation it shall lie waste, none shall pass
through it forever and ever." This is the final destruction of the
nation; but this destruction shall have an end, because the nation
shall end, and the anger also shall end in its own period, even then
when God shall call the Jews into the common inheritance with the
Gentiles, and all " become the sons of God." And this also was the
period of their " worm," as it is of their " fire," the fire of the Divine vengeance upon the nation: which was not to be extinguished
till they were destroyed, as we see it come to pass. And thus also
in St. Jude, "the angels who kept not their first estate," are said to
be " reserved" by God in everlasting chains under darkness: which
word, " everlasting," signifies not absolutely to eternity, but to the
utmost end of that period; for so it follows, " unto the judgment of
the great day;" that " everlasting" lasts no longer. And in verse 7
the word " eternal" is just so used. The men of " Sodom and Gomorrah are set forth for an example, suffering the vengeance of eternal fire;" that is, of a fire which burned till they were quite de.




THE FOOLISH  EXCHANGE.                     57g
stroyed, and the cities and the country with an irreparable ruin,
never to be rebuilt and reinhabited as long as this world continues.
The effect of which observation is this:
That these words, "forever-everlastin g-eternal-the neverdying worm-the fire unquenchable," being words borrowed by our
blessed Saviour and His apostles from the style of the Old Testament, must have a signification just proportionable to the state which
they signify: so that as this worm, when it signifies a temporal infliction, means a worm that never ceases giving torment till the bc.~y
is consumed: so when it is translated to an immortal state, it must
signify as much in that proportion: that "eternal," that " everlasting," hath no end at all; because the soul can not be killed in the
natural sense, but is made miserable and perishing forever; that is,
the "worm shall not die" so long as the soul shall be unconsumed;
" the fire shall not be quenched" till the period of an immortal nature comes. And that this shall be absolutely forever, without
any restriction, appears unanswerable in this, because the same
"forever" that is for the blessed souls, the same " forever" is for
the accursed souls: but the blessed souls, "that die in the Lord,
henceforth shall die no more, death hath no power over them,
for death is destroyed, it is swallowed up in victory," saith St. Paul;
and "there shall be no more death," saith St. John.  So that, because " forever" hath no end, till the thing or the duration itself have
end, ill the same sense in which the saints and angels " give glory to
God forever," in the same sense the lost souls shall suffer the evils
of their sad inheritance: and since, after this death of nature, which
is a separation of soul and body, there remains no more death, but
this second death, this eternal perishing of miserable accursed souls,
whose duration must be eternal; it follows, that "' the worm of conscience," and "the unquenchable" fire of hell, have no period at all,
but shall last as long as God lasts, or the measures of a proper eternity; that they who provoke God to wrath by their base, unreasonable, and sottish practices, may know what their portion shall be in
the everlasting habitations. And yet, suppose that Origen's opinion
had been true, and that accursed souls should have ease and a period
to their tortures after a thousand years; I pray, let it be considered,
whether it be not a great madness to choose the pleasures or the
wealth of a few years here, with trouble, with danger, with uncertainty, with labor, with intervals of sickness; and for this to endure
the flames of hell for a thousand years together. The pleasures of
the world no man can have for a hundred years; and no man hath
pleasure for a hundred days together, but he hath some trouble.nter




576                  JEREMY TAYLOR.
vening, or at least a weariness and a loathing of the pleasure; and
therefore, to endure insufferable calamities, suppose it to be for a
hundred years, without any interruption, without so much comfort
as the light of a candle, or a drop of water amounts to in a fever, is
a bargain to be maade by no man that loves himself, or is not in love
with infinite affliction.
If a man were condemned but to lie still, or to lie in bed m one
posture without turning, for seveu years together, would he not buy
it off with the loss of all his estate? If a man were to be put upon
the rack for every day for three months together (suppose him able
to live so long), what would not he do to be quit of his torture?
Would any man curse the king to his face, if he were sure to have
both his hands burnt off, and to be tormented with torments three
years together. Would any man in his wits accept of a hundred
pounds a year for forty years, if he were sure to be tormented in the
fire for the next hundred years together without intermission?
Think then what a thousand years may signify; ten ages, the ages
of two empires. But this account, I must tell you, is infinitely short,
though I thus discourse to you how great fools wicked men are,
though this opinion should be true. A goodly comfort, surely, that
for two or three years' sottish pleasure, a man shall be infinitely tormented but for a thousand years! But then when we cast up the
minutes, and years, and ages of eternity, the consideration itself is a
great hell to those persons, who, by their evil lives, are consigned to
such sad and miserable portions.
A thousand years is a long while to be in torment: we find a
fever of one and twenty days to be like an age in length; but when
the duration of an intolerable misery is forever in the height, and
forever beginning, and ten thousand years have spent no part of its
term, but it makes a perpetual efflux, and is like the center of a circle, which ever transmits lines to the circumference: this is a consideration so sad, that the horror of it, and the reflection upon its
abode and duration, make a great part of the hell: for hell could
not be hell without the despair of accursed souls; for any hope were
a refreshment, and a drop of water, which would help to allay those
flames, which as they burn intolerably, so they must burn forever.
And I desire you to consider, that although the Scripture uses
the word "fire" to express the torments of accursed souls, yet fire
can no more equal the pangs of hell than it can torment an immaterial substance; the pains of perishing souls being as much more
afflictive than the smart of fire, as the smart of fire is troublesome
beyond the softness of Persian carpets, or the sensuality of the Asian




THE FOOLISH EXCHANGE.                      577
luxury.  For the pains of hell, and the perishing or losing the soul,
is, to suffer the wrath of God: cazl yra o6 aso; G r'6w ntJ? w X o vclruaxov, "our
God is a consuming fire," that is, the fire of hell. When God takes
away all comfort from us, nothing to support our spirit is left us;
when sorrow is our food, and tears our drink; when it is eternal
night, without sun, or star, or lamp, or sleep; when we burn with
fire without light, that is, are laden with sadness without remedy, or
hope of ease; and that this wrath is to be expressed and to fall upon
us, in spiritual, immaterial, but most accursed, most pungent, and
dolorous emanations; then we feel what it is to lose a soul.
We may guess at it by the terrors of a guilty conscience, those
"' verbera et laniatus," those secret "lashings and whips" of the exterminating angel, those thorns in the soul, when a man is haunted
Dy an evil spirit; those butchers-which the soul of a tyrant, or a
violent or a vicious person, when he falls into fear or any calamity,
does feel-are the infinite arguments, that hell-which is the consummation of the torment of conscience, just as manhood is the
consummation of infancy, or as glory is the perfection of grace-is
an infliction greater than the bulk of heaven and earth; for there it
is that God pours out the treasures of His wrath, and empties the
whole magazine of thunderbolts, and all the armory of God is employed, not in the chastising, but in the tormenting, of a perishing
soul. Lucian brings in Radamanthus, telling the poor wandering
souls upon the banks of Elysium, "For every wickedness that
any man commits in his life, when he comes to hell, he hath stamped
upon his soul an invisible brand"* and mark of torment, and this
begins here, and is not canceled by death, but there is enlarged by
the greatness of infinite, and the abodes of eternity. How great
these torments of conscience are here, let any man imagine that can
but understand what despair means; despair upon just reason: let
it be what it will, no misery can be greater than despair. And because I hope none here have felt those horrors of an evil conscience
which are consignations to eternity, you may please to learn it by
your own reason, or else by the sad instances of story. It is reported of Petrus Ilosuanus, a Polonian schoolmaster, that having
read some ill-managed discourses of absolute decrees and Divine
reprobation, began to be fantastic and melancholic, and apprehensive that he might be one of those many whom God had decreed
for hell from all eternity. From possible to probable, from probable to certain, the temptation soon carried him: and when he once
*'07ro6a dv  rtc 6iw6v 7rovnp6 tpycaiarat 7tapa rtv Piov, KaO' IKaTrov a Gr~v igavi
5riytsara 7Xr2 Tf Dvxi7f 7TeptoQpet.
37




578                  JEREMY TAYLOR.
began to believe himself to be a person inevitanly perishing, it in
not possible to understand perfectly what infinite fears, and agonies,
and despairs, what tremblings, what horrors, what confusion and
amazement, the poor man felt within him, to consider that he was
to be tormented extremely, without remedy, even to eternal ages.
This, in a short. continuance, grew insufferable, and prevailed upon
him so far, that he hanged himself, and left an account of it to this
purpose in writing in his study: "I am gone from hence to the
flames of hell, and have forced my way thither, being impatient to
try what those great torments are, which here I have feared with an
insupportable amazement." This instance may suffice to show what
it is to lose a soul. But I will take off from this sad discourse;
only I shall crave your attention to a word of exhortation.
That you take care, lest for the purchase of a little, trifling, inconsiderable portion of the world, you come into this place and state
of torment. Although Homer was pleased to compliment the
beauty of Helena to such a height, as to say, "it was a sufficient
price for all the evils which the Greeks and Trojans suffered in ten
years,"* yet it was a more reasonable conjecture of Herodotus, that,
during the ten years' siege of Troy, Helena, for whom the Greeks
fought, was in Egypt, not in the city; because it was unimaginable
but the Trojans would have thrown her over the walls, rather than,
for the sake of a trifle, have endured so great calamities. We are
more sottish than the Trojans, if we retain our Helena, any one beloved lust, a painted devil, and sugared temptation with (not the
hazard, but) the certainty of having such horrid miseries, such invaluable losses. And certainly it is a strange stupidity of spirit
that can sleep in the midst of such thunder; when God speaks from
heaven with His loudest voice, and draws aside His curtain, and
shows His arsenal and His armory, full of arrows steeled with wrath,
headed and pointed, and hardened with vengeance, still to snatch at
those arrows, if they came but in the retinue of a rich fortune or a
vain mistress, if they wait but upon pleasure or profit, or in the rear
of an ambitious design.
But let us not have such a hardiness against the threats and representments of the Divine vengeance, as to the little imposts and revenues of the world, and stand in defiance against God and the fears of
hell unless we have a charm that we can be d6eaTo,,(.  X~Ti,, "c invisible to the Judge" of heaven and earth, are impregnable against, or
are sure we shall be insensible of, the miseries of a perishing soul,
* Ov vkueaf' Tpt3af Kai tvKcv7tdaf'Axatof
Totj d' auot yvvatKi iCr,)v Xpovo, a.yea 7ra'XelV.-ILIAD. y.




THE FOOLISH EXCHANGE.                   579
There is a sort of men, who, because they will be vicious and
atheistical in their lives, have no way to go on with any plaisance
and without huge disturbances, but by being also atheistical in their
opinions; and to believe that the story of hell is but a bugbear to
affright children and fools, easy-believing people, to make them soft
and apt for government and designs of princes. And this is an
)pinion that befriends none but impure and vicious persons. Others
there are, that believe God to be all mercy, that He forgets His justice; believing that none shall perish with so sad a ruin, if they do
but at their death-bed ask God forgiveness, and say they are sorry,
but yet continue their impiety till their house be ready to fall; being like the Circassians, whose gentlemen enter not in the Church
till they be three-score years old, that is, in effect, till by their age
they can not any longer use rapine; till then they hear service at
their windows, dividing unequally their life between sin and devotion, dedicating their youth to robbery, and their old age to a repentance without restitution.
Our youth, and our manhood, and old age, are all of them due
to God, and justice and mercy are to Him equally essential: and as
this life is a time of the possibilities of mercy, so to them that
neglect it, the next world shall be a state of pure and unmingled
justice.
Remember the fatal and decretory sentence which God hath
passed upon all mankind: " It is appointed to all men once to die,
and after death comes judgment." And if any of us were certain to
die next morning, with what earnestness should we pray! with what
hatred should we remember our sins! with what scorn should we
look upon the licentious pleasures of the world! Then nothing
could be welcome unto us but a prayer-book, no company but a
comforter and a guide of souls, no employment but repentance, no
passions but in order to religion, no kindness for a lust that hath
undone us. And if any of you have been arrested with arms of
death, or been in hearty fear of its approach, remember what
thoughts and designs then possessed you, how precious a soul was
then in your account, and what then you would give that you had
despised the world, and done your duty to God and man, and lived
a holy life. It will come to that again; and we shall be in that condition in which we shall perfectly understand, that all the things
and pleasures of the world are vain, and unprofitable, and irksome,
and that he only is a wise man who secures the interest of his soul,
though it be with the loss of all this world, and his own life into
the bargain. When we are to depart this life, to go to strange com



580                  JEREMY TAYLOR.
pany and stranger places, and to an unknown condition, then a holy
conscience will be the best security, the best possession; it will be
a horror, that every friend we meet shall, with triumph, upbraid to
us the sottishness of our folly: "Lo, this is the goodly change you
hate made! you had your good things in your lifetime, and how
like you the portion that is reserved to you forever?"
The old rabbins, those poets of religion, report of Moses, that
~ when the courtiers of Pharaoh were sporting with the child Moses,
in the chamber of Pharaoh's daughter, they presented to his choice
an ingot of gold in one hand and a coal of fire in the other; and
that the child snatched at the coal, thrust it into his mouth, and so
singed and parched his tongue, that he stammered ever after. And
certainly it is infinitely more childish in us, for the glittering of the
small glow-worms and the charcoal of worldly possessions, to swallow the flames of hell greedily in our choice: such a bit will produce a worse stammering than Moses had: for so the accursed and
lost souls have their ugly and horrid dialect; they roar and blaspheme, blaspheme and roar, forever. And suppose God should now,
at this instant, send the great archangel with his trumpet, to summon all the world to judgment, would not all this seem a notorious
visible truth, a truth which you will then wonder that every man
lid not lay to his heart and preserve there, in actual, pious, and
effective consideration? Let the trumpet of God perpetually sound
in your ears. "Rise from the dead, and come to judgment!" Place
yourselves, by meditation, every day upon your death-bed, and remember what thoughts shall then possess you, and let such thoughts
dwell in your understanding forever, and be the parent of all your
resolutions and actions. The doctors of the Jews report, that when
Absalom hanged among the oaks by the hair of the head, he seemed
to see under him hell gaping wide ready to receive him; and he
durst not cut off the hair that entangled him, for fear he should fall
into the horrid lake, whose portion in flames and torment, but chose
to protract his miserable life a few minutes in that. pain of posture,
and to abide the stroke of his pursuing enemies: his condition was
sad when his arts of remedy were so vain.*
A condemned man hath but small comfort to stay the singing of
a long Psalm; it is the case of every vicious person. Hell is wide
open to every impenitent persevering sinner, to every unpurged
person.t
* Ti yap 3p67r'v av aiv KacoZT 7regtyIzuvov
OevlaKEtv 6,t9Xev roo XpOVOV IKvcep6o 0pe... —SOPHL
t Noctes atqne dies patet atri janua Ditis. —EN.




THE FOOLISH EXH RANGE.                   581
And although God hath lighted His candle, and the lantern of
His word and clearest revelations is held out to us, that we can see
hell in its worst colors and most horrid representments; yet we run
greedily after baubles, under that precipice which swallows up the
greatest part of mankind; and then only we begin to consider, when
all consideration is fruitless.
He, therefore, is a huge fool, that heaps up riches, that greedily
pursues the world, and at the same time (for so it must be), "heaps
up wrath to himself against the day of wrath." When sickness and
death arrest him, then they appear unprofitable, and himself extremely miserable; and if you would know how great that misery
is, you may take account of it by those fearful words and killing
rhetoric of Scripture: "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands
of the living God;" and, " Who can dwell with the everlasting burnings?" That is, no patience can abide there one hour, where they
dwell forever.




DISCOURSE FORTY.SECOND.
WALTER BLAKE KIRWAN.
DEAN KIRWAN, as this great Irish pulpit orator is usually called, waa
born of Roman Catholic parents, at Galway, about the year 1754. He
was educated at the college of English Jesuits, at Omers. At the age
of seventeen, he embarked for the Danish island of St. Croix, West
Indies, where resided a relative of great wealth. After six years be
returned to Europe, and repairing to the University of Louvain, received
priest's orders, and was soon honored with the chair of Natural and
Moral Philosophy. In 1778 he became chaplain to the Neapolitan embassador at the British Court, where he obtained great celebrity as a
preacher. With the desire of accomplishing more good than now lay
in his power, he determined, in 1787, to leave the Roman Catholic body
and unite with the established or Episcopal Church. On the 24th of
June, the same year, he preached to his first Protestant congregation,
which created an astonishing sensation. He soon gained a wide reputation for his charity sermons; and in 1788 was preferred to the prebend
of Howth; and the next year to the parish of St. Nicholas. In 1800 he
was raised to the deanery of Killala. In this position he attained to the
most unbounded popularity. Men of all professions vied with each other
to evince their attachment and admiration, and crowds flocked from all
parts of Ireland to listen to his discourses. But in the midst of his success he sank under his labors, and died on the 27th of October, 1805.
Kirwan evidently abstained from polishing his sermons, to allow of
extemporaneous effusions. His thirteen discourses, which are very rare,
are not finished or elaborated; but still there runs through them a
strain of masculine, impassioned exhortation, such as is not often to be
found. As charity sermons, probably they never were excelled. The
following was for the schools of St. Peter's parish. Mr. Grattan's says
of Kirwan, " He called forth the latent virtues of the human heart, and
taught men to discover within themselves a mine of charity, of which the
proprietors had been unconscious. He came to interrupt the repose of
the pulpit, and shakes one world with the thunder of the other. The
preacher's desk becomes the throne of light."




SEEKING  ANOTHER'S WE kLTH.                  583
SEEKING ANOTHER'S WEALTH.
"Let no man seek his own, but every man another's wealth."-1 Co. x. 24.
The possession of happiness is the principle and end of all our
actions and passions, our pleasures and our pains —the common or
universal center, to which all animated nature is hurried by rapid
and irresistible movement. Men are united in society only to procure it. The arts and sciences have been invented only to perfect
it. All states and professions are so many channels in which it is
sought. The great and mean, rich and poor, infancy and age, passions and talents, virtues and vices, pleasures and toils, are all engaged in the unremitting pursuit of it. In a word, from the people
that inhabit the most civilized cities to the savage that prowls in the
bosom of the wilderness; from the throne of the monarch to the
hut of the most abject peasant, the world is in labor to bring forth
true peace and tranquillity of soul.
My object on the present occasion is not to inquire into the secret
of this sublime and inexhaustible science. I am inclined, however,
to believe, that if it has any existence upon this earth, it is probably
in the soul of a true Christian. Nor is there any description of our
brethren, however abject and forlorn, to whom this tender and consoling invitation of our blessed Lord is not oftentimes addressed
with effect: " Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden,
and I will give you rest."
The wisdom of the Gospel, my friends, is chiefly addressed to the
heart, and therefore is easily understood by all. It is in touching
that it enlightens us, in touching that it persuades. Directed by the
light of faith, the eye of the true Christian is intensely fixed on the
great sphere of eternity. He hears the solemn voice of his religion,
which tells him that in man there are two distinct beings, the one
material and perishable, the other spiritual and immortal.  He
knows and contemplates the rapid advance of that futurity which is
not measured by the succession of days and nights, or the revolution
of years and ages. Before these profound and magnificent impressions all worldly glory fades. No interests can possess or transport
his heart, but those to which he is invited from above. No, not a
desire in his breast, not a movement in his life; no evil in his apprehension, or happiness in his conception, that refers not to eternity; he is all immensity of views and projects; and hence that
true nobility of spirit, that calm, majestic indifference which looks
down on the visionary enterprises of men, sees them, unstable and




584             WALTER  BL&AKE KIRWAN.
fleetinlg as the waves of a torrent, pressed and precipitated by those
that pursue, and scarce tell you where they are, when you behold
them  no more: hence likewise that equality of soul, which is
troubled at no reverse or vicissitude of life, which knows not those
tormenting successions, those rapid alternations of pleasure and pain,
so frequent in the breast of worldlings; to be elevated by the slightest success, depressed by the slightest reverse, intoxicated at a puff
of praise, inconsolable at the least appearance of contempt, reanimated at a gleam of respect, tortured by an air of coldness and in.
difference, unbounded in all wishes, and disgusted after all possession, is a spectacle of human misery that would enhance the peace of
a true Christian, did all the influence of a Divine religion not infuse
into his heart as much pity for his mistaken brethren, as it does
superior dignity and elevation into his sentiments.
But without pursuing this character any further, of which, I
would please myself in thinking, there are some living illustrations
before me, I beg leave to observe, in nearer conformity with my
text, that, as self-love is the most active principle of the human
soul, and to seek our own wealth or happiness is to obey an innate
and irresistible impulse, neither reason nor religion go to hinder or
discourage a just and reasonable attention to our own temporal interests; nor should any of the Gospel precepts be explained in a
manner which is inconsistent with that eternal law, which the finger
of God hath traced on our hearts. No. Attention to our own concerns can become culpable only when they so far enslave and engross us as to leave us neither leisure or inclination to promote the
happiness of our fellow creatures. Then does self-love degenerate
into selfishness. This, indeed, is a dark and melancholy transformation of our natural character, and the last term of its abasement.
When the light of benevolence is entirely put out, man is reduced to that state of existence which is disavowed by nature and
abhorred by God! Let one suppose him, I say, but once radically
divested of all generous feelings, and entirely involved in himself;
it will be impossible to say what deeds of horror and shame he will
not readily commit: in the balance of his perverted judgment,
honor, gratitude, friendship, religion, yea, even natural affection,
will all be outweighed by interest. The maxim of the Roman
satirist will be his rule of life, " Money at any rate." If the plain
and beaten paths of the world, diligence and frugality, will conduct
him to that end, it is well; but if not, rather than fail of his object,
I will be bold to say, he will plunge, without scruple or remorse,
into the most serpentine labyrinths of fraud and iniquity. While




SEEKING  ANOTHER'S WEALTH.                  585
uis schemes are unaccomplished, fretfulness and discontent will
lower on his brow; when favorable, and even most prosperous, his
unslaked and unsatisfied soul still thirsts for more. As he is insensible to the calamities of his fellow-creatures, so the greatest torment
he can experience is an application to his charity and compassion.
Should he stumble, like the Levite, on some spectacle of woe, he
will, like the Levite, hasten to the other side of the way, resist the
finest movements of nature, and cling to the demon of inhumanity,
as the guardian angel of his happiness. Suppose him, however,
under the accidental necessity of listening to the petition of misery;
he will endeavor to beat down the evidence of the case by the meanest shifts and evasions; or will cry aloud, as the brutal and insatiable Nabal did to the hungry soldiers of David, " Why should I be
such a fool as to give my flesh, which I have prepared for my
shearers, to men that I know.not from whence they be?"
But, admitting that a remnant of shame, for example, in the face
of a congregation like this, may goad him for once to an act of be.
neficence, so mean and inconsiderable, so unworthy of the great
concern would it probably be, that the idol of his soul would appear
more distinctly in the very relief he administers, than in the barbarous insensibility which habitually withholds it. Merciful and eternal God I what a passion! And how much ought the power and
fascination of that object to be dreaded, which can turn the human
heart into a pathless and irreclaimable desert. Irreclaimable, I say;
for men inflamed with any other passion, even voluptuousness, the
most impure and inveterate, are sometimes enlightened and reformed
by the ministry of religion, or the sober and deliberate judgment
of manhood and experience.
But who will say that such a wretch as I have described, in the
extremity of selfishness, was ever corrected by any ordinary resource
or expedient? Who will say that he is at any time vulnerable by
reproach, or, I had almost added, even converted by grace? No;
through every stage and revolution of life, he remains invariably the
same; or if any difference, it is only this, that as he advances into
the shade o.  a long evening, he clings closer and closer to the object
of his idolatry and while every other passion lies dead and blasted
in his heart his desire for more pelf increases with renewed eager.
ness, and he holds by a sinking world with an agonizing grasp, till
he drops into the earth with the increased curses of wretchedness on
his head, without the tribute of a tear from child or parent, or any
inscription on his memory; but that he lived to counteract the distributive justice of Providence, and died without hope or title to a




586             WALTER BLAKE KIR WAN.
blessed immortality. "Seek not your own, but every man another's
wealth."
That there are few examples of such a passion, I will readily ad.
mit. So abominable an infatuation is too far out of the line of nature ever to become extensive in its influence. But if avarice be
rare, Mammon has still numerous, very numerous adorers of another
description; and allow me to ask, What great difference does it.make to the prolific order of human misery, whether it be spurned
by a heart of adamant, or not relieved by those who live splendidly
and luxuriously? Here, my friends, is, I fear, the true state of the
case. Can it be denied that a passion for splendid luxury begets an
attachment to money, as the means of gratifying that passion?
Who will deny that it sometimes leads to the most shameful degradation of the human character? Is it not well known that a man
shall at once be both supple and proud, haughty and creeping;
shall exact all homage within his own house, and descend to every
baseness abroad? An imperious master assuming supreme majesty
among his inferiors and dependents, a timid and complying slave
where his fortunes can be advanced; who will play every personage, take and lay down every form, adore with profoundest abasement the patron he would propitiate, prevent his desires, sacrifice to
his caprices, constrain his own inclinations, applaud what he secretly
despises, caress what he cordially detests, shut up in his heart all his
pleasures and his pains; in a word, shall neither think or act, or
speak or be silent, or love or hate, but as he is moved and impelled
by a vile consideration of personal interest!
And what is his object? merely to procure the means of a little
luxury, to eat and drink in splendor, to drown for a moment the
consciousness of his servility and degradation. Oh, if man can so
utterly renounce himself, why is it not for God I! The greatness of
the Master would ennoble the service; but to offer up so noble a
victim as the dignity of the human character, to so contemptible a
divinity as the world, to make such sacrifices for a fugitive and unsubstantial object, more capable, on experiment, of irritating his desires than of satisfying them, to be obliged to despise himself, and
not always even to be rewarded for the humiliation!  "No," says
the prophet Isaiah, "there is no judgment in his ways."  Fortune,
if I may use the expression, places a bandage over his eyes; he certainly must not see the greatness of his destination, and the nobility
of his origin. Imagination, that flattering impostor, hurries him in
search of happiness from chimera to chimera: the experience of
every instant should cure his delusion; his delusion remains in spite




SEEKING ANOTHER'S WEALTIH.                 587
of experience: born to the lofty ambition of an infinite good, his
fears and hopes, his views and designs, his profoundest meditations
are still obstinateiy inclosed within the little spot that intervenes between his cradle and the grave I his days are all passed in the midst
of humiliation and care, only to die overwhelmed with riches and
surrounded with splendor I Truly hath the prophet spoken, " The
way of peace they know not, and there is no judgment in their go.
ings; they have made themselves crooked paths, whosoever goeth
therein shall not know peace."
But whatever may be the folly and turpitude of these sacrifices
that are made for a perishable interest, my object is, more properly,
to evince the too universal prevalence of selfishness over the feelings
of humanity. Great God I were I to draw a contrast between the
sums that are daily lavished in frivolous and degrading gratifications,
and the trifle occasionally, perhaps annually, consecrated to the finest
of all human affections-were I to say that the passions and vices of
the day are unfathomable gulfs into which money is poured without
decency or limitation-that the great object of contention among the
rich is, who shall manifest the happiest invention of expensive follies —that play alone swallows up more resources than would educate
and feed all the orphans of the nation, who could fairly or honestly
accuse me of misrepresentation?
And who that studies and contemplates the deplorable increase
of misery in these times, but must shudder at such a crying misapplication of God's bounty? Where, let me conjure you to reflect, is
the gratitude we owe to Him? What have we that we have not received? Is it to indulge this abominable prodigality that He has
mercifully distinguished us from those multitudes that suffer all the
excesses of human misery? Which of us can look round at the
spectacles which every where present themselves, without feeling the
most ardent acknowledgment to Heaven for the blessings he enjoys?
There is not probably one man in this vast congregation, who commands not even some of the superfluities of life; not one, at least,
without a sufficiency of its common comforts: but how many has a
gracious Providence endowed with large hereditary fortunes? how
many with the most abundant mediocrity? how many enriched by
successful industry? how many conducted by the hand to lucrative
employments? how many, almost fatigued, if I may say so, with increasing prosperity? and shall it be possible that the objects of such
tender and special predilection can prove eminently unworthy of it.
Nor is the unexampled, and, I may say, cruel dissipation of
money in such times as the present, confined to the upper orders of




588            WALTER BLAKE KIRWAN.
society alone. No; the example has descended, and there exists in
the middling orders of life a melancholy proof how ruinous example
is when it beams from a height. The luster of station, attracting
every eye, brings its habits in contact with the whole body of the
community. The manners of the great are a volume of established
precedents, which their inferiors consult to fortify themselves with a'ase in point for every possible trespass against virtue and economy:
nence the industrious are led to copy an expensive mode of living,
which ultimately leads to bankruptcy and ruin; and hence it follows
irresistibly, that, if the higher orders of the community are desirous
any longer of being distinguished from those whom they are pleased to
consider as beneath them, the only way I can perceive they have left,
is a prompt Peturn to a system of Christian frugality and moderation.
But I may be told, that notwithstanding the excesses I complain of,
mercy is often remembered. Yes, I confess it: and how should it not
be remembered? All human beings occasionally remember mercythe miser alone excepted. It is the doctrine of all ages and people: in
the darkest periods of human reason, when vice the most atrocious was
seated upon altars, and honored by the incense of nations, sensibility
to distress remained a sacred though solitary virtue, amid the prevailing corruptions of the world. In regions bound in by eternal frost,
uncivilized and almost inaccessible, where element and sterility combine to render subsistence precarious, and seem to shut up the heart
relief is extended to those whom age and infirmity render unable to
toil.  Why then should we talk of occasionally obeying a sentiment
which in the children of nature is a burning and invariable instinct?
Were I to tell the wildest barbarian that our bread is often withheld from the hungry —that some of us are clothed in soft raiment,
and wallow in all the enjoyments of luxury and ease, while multitudes are suffered to perish from the absolute want of aliment —while
poverty stalks round us ravenous and despairing-while mothers
almost devour their young, and orphans dispute offals with the
brutes-all barbarous and uncivilized as we call him, I should fill
his honest heart with astonishment and horror! And yet we flatter
ourselves we are merciful! Oh, my friends, we are too apt to give
ourselves credit for the practice of a virtue, of which, in fact, we as
yet know little but the name. I am positive when I say this; what
pleasure can I have in uttering any thing like reproach? what object
in view but the vindication of truth, and the good of the cause with
which you yourselves have intrusted me? I am, in fact, but pleading your own persons against your own passions.
Lay then your handis honestly on your hearts, and decide the qued,




SEEKING  ANOTHER S WEALTH.                 589
tion yourselves; I desire no other umpire between us. Look into the
Divine volumes of our law; mark the rule of mercy it lays down,
and confess the immensity of our distance from it. What does it
declare us to be but trustees to the estate? Does it not adjudge
every shilling we can spare from the reasonable support of our stations, to the widow and the orphan, or charge us with their blood?
The observation, you may tell me, is trite; but is it the less awful
for being trite? Is our security the greater, because every effort of
the human mind, and every pulse of zeal have been long exhausted
to warn us of our danger? Is it possible to believe in future retribution, and not to know some uneasy moments on this head? Is it
possible then, that rational and thinking beings must not occasionally
tremble at the uncertainty of life, and certainty of judgment? How
many might I mention, in the very first class of our community,
who have passed to their account since I last met you in the cause
of these children, in the course of a little year; some of whom-I
could mention several-who heard me on that day, and, for aught
I know, with the same tranquillity and indifference, or the same assurarce of many years, that you may now! They are gone; and
whatever their eternal destiny may be, this is certain, that it may be
ours to consider the wealth of worlds as a happy exchange for one
hour of that time which is still within our power.
Tell me, is there a single Christain before me, who, if the offer
were made him at this moment, would be satisfied to stake his salvation on the question of his charity?  Oh, not one! and yet our consciences are at rest; we flatter ourselves we are merciful. Heavens!
If there be any just ground for such a thought, why has it become
necessary to prostitute, in some degree, the most sacred of all functions for the purpose of moving and inspiring us to the practice of
this virtue? Why has the pulpit been obliged to descend to the
very language of flattery, in order to extort from your vanity what
it is hopeless of obtaining from a principle of religion? Why is it
become necessary to hold out, on almost every occasion of this nature, the too dangerous doctrine, " that Charity covereth a multitude
of sins;" and thus run the hazard of misleading you on the subject
of your own salvation, in order to force you to become the instrument of salvation to others? Why are we obliged to use the arts
and coloring of profane eloquence to make appeals to your passions;
to search and probe the great body of human misery to the bone;
to bring it, I may say, before your hearts, naked and expiring,
quivering and disjointed; to expose all its miseries and horrors; to
mingle our own tears with the tears of the unhappy objects that in.




590            WALTER BLAKE KIRWAN.
voke us? And after all, why do we often fail? Yes, most deplorably
fail? Why does misery often perish in the horrors of famine? or,
what is infinitely worse, shoot up in swarms of infamy and guilt?
"Let no man seek his own, but every man another's wealth."
Having endeavored to the best of my power, to enforce this
noble and disinterested maxim of the apostle, it remains to consider
the case which calls us to the exercise of it. But if, in Considering
the general duty of charity, I have had to struggle with a subject
not a little exhausted; what field does the education of poor children present, but one equally barren? The fact is, that the many
eminent blessings flowing to society from attention to this object, the
magnitude and variety of public evils resulting fromr the neglect of
it, the superior happiness, or superior misery of these our fellowcreatures, according as they are early protected or abandoned, are
all themes so completely worn out, so ground down, if I may use the
expression, by repeated attrition, that I should consider it a manifest
abuse of your indulgence, to trouble you with any of them. That
your indulgence is great, I have long had reason to declare. I ought
therefore to presume on that indulgence but as little as possible.
There is a circumstance, however, regarding your institution,
which I am called on to mention; and which I do with the more confidence and willingness, as notwithstanding what my zeal for the cause
I have in hand, may have induced me to say in the preceding part
of this discourse, I know you are not unacquainted with it. When first
I had the happiness of appearing in behalf of these children, their number consisted of only about thirty. I took the liberty to remonstrate
on the smallness of that number; you felt with what justice, and in.
creased it to forty. There has it stood. There, during a long term of
eight years, has it stood; and some of them such yearsl Great
God 1 No not a single child has been added I As we stand in the
presence of the eternal God, and hope for eternal life, how can this
be justified? How can we reconcile it with the commonest feelings
of humanity?  How rest on our beds in peace, when we reflect
what it is in our power to do, and what we have omitted to do?
What inexpressible happiness we might diffuse, what inexpressible
happiness we have deliberately withheld?
I tell you, did my words burn like coals of fire, they could not
convey the greatness of the call upon you! No, never in justice,
should a minister of mercy descend from this place, until be discovered by your countenances and emotions, that you felt the necessity, and were determined to the exercise of superior mercy at this
day  I say, though I should continue to speak until my observa.




SEEKING ANOTHER'S WEALTH.                 591
tions became incoherent, and language confused, there would be
still a mode left of conveying the ardent wishes of my heart; you
would understand at least my tears; they are the true language of
entreaty; and as long as there was one pulse of feeling within me
for the world of perishing infants without these walls, these eyes
should flow to soften and conjure you!
What, my friendsI in the Old and New Testament, we see astonishing influences even of divine interposition in the day of calamity I Elijah on the top of a bleak and desert mountain; without
any resource but a firm confidence in his God. Was he suffered to
perish?  No: even the most rapacious of birds was charged with
the ministry of a protecting providence, and brought him his nutriment at morn and eve. And how did that vast multitude which
Moses conducted into the wilderness, subsist during a course of
forty years? The hand of Divine mercy spread their food upon the
earth, and gave them water from the body of a dry rock. Think
of the five thousand people that followed and invoked Jesus Christ
in the extremity of hunger and distress: did He refuse to succor
them? did He spurn them? No: the Gospel tells us expressly, that
His heart bled for them. Where, says He, shall we find bread that
they may eat?  A small quantity of provisions grew, under His
miraculous power, into profusion. The multitude was filled, their
gratitude was unbounded; and they retired loudly proclaiming Him
to be the Messiah that was to come; more convinced perhaps of this
truth, from the uncommon benignity of His character, than from
the prodigy which they had witnessed.
And look to the first ages of Christianity, and see the faithful
make, on occasions like the present, what great and almost incredible
sacrifices. Yes, in defect of all other resources, we find them selling their very persons, surrendering their very liberty into the hands
of barbarians; and leaving the price of this first of human blessings
behind them, for the relief of their famishing brethren. What a
prodigy of humanity! Great God I And shall we, whom He has
fondly excepted from a too general visitation, deliberately refuse to
vindicate His providence? Shall we turn aside from such depths
and abundance of human misery, as perhaps never before occurred
in the history of any people. 01 it is not by a delegated voice that
misery should implore; it should plead for itself; you should see it
with your own eyes, hear it with your own ears: one beseeching
glance from a famishing child; one sigh from the breaking heart of
its parent, would go aceeper into yours, would do more with you in
a moment, than my words, were I speaking to you forever I




592            WALTER BLAKE KIRWANY.
What power have I to affect you? None; comparatively, at
least, none. When my mind represents you shocked and abashed
at scenes that would be new to you, comparing them with your own
situation; dreading, at every instant, some more horrible discovery;
the God of mercy, spurring you to minute investigation; your
nature recoiling at every issue of it; in fine, putting this solemn
question to your souls, Is it possible that the deplorable beings we
now see before us, separated from the living and the dead, holding
to the world only by a sense of their sufferings, can be creatures of
the same God with ourselves, members of the same society, our
brethren in Christ Jesus?-Oh! tfen it is that humanity would
triumph! Then would the gates of your institution fly open to
remedy the unavoidable consequences to the living, and quiet the
shades of the dead. Then would the mourning widow forget the
bloody day that deprived her babes of a father and protector; since
they had found fathers and protectors in you. To be roused to the
height of mercy you should have personal experience of what passes
around you; you will then carry the impression to your graves.
Sermons and preachers are rapidly forgotten. One single morning
devoted to explore the recesses of misery in this metropolis would
preach to you through life; would stamp you merciful forever.
While I press you to an increase of your institution, full well do
you know the necessity of it. But, alas! I want the power of determining you, of melting you down to the extent of my wishes.
God has not given it to me. If He had, be assured I would use it.
I would encircle you with my little clients; hang them on your garments; teach their fatherless arms to entwine about your knees;
their innocent eyes to fasten upon yours, and their untainted lips to
cry, "I Mercy, for we perish!"  Do you think you could resist?  I
would bid you observe the force of nature in the breast of a parent.
Mothers crying to you with extended arms to save their children.
"No, think not of us," would they say, " we are satisfied to suffer.
Let us expire, if you will, we shall expire in peace; but save, O
save our children!" There would you see all personal considerations
swallowed up in the immensity of parental feeling. Peace and serenity spread over the face of woe. Even death itself losing its
sting, at the prospect of life and happiness being insured to these objects whom nature has endeared to us above our own existence.
Do you think you could resist the luxury which such a,moment held
out to you? Oh, how truly has it been said, that it is better to go
to the house of mourning, than to the house of joy!




DISCOURSE FORTY-THIRD
ALEXANDER CARSON, LIL.D.
DR. CARSON was born in Tyrone County; North of Ireland, in tne
year 1776; his ancestors having come from Scotland. Having been
educated at the University of Glasgow, where he took the highest honors of the institution, he was ordained a Presbyterian minister at about
the age of twenty-two, and settled at Tubbermore. In the year 1805 he
became a Baptist, and assumed the pastoral charge of a church in Tubbermore, made up of those who sympathized with his views, most of
whom seceded with him from their former connection. In this relation
he remained until the time of his death, which occured from injuries received from a fall, on the 24th day of August, 1844.
The leading characteristics of Dr. Carson were piety, humility, be,
nevolence, vigor of intellect, untiring assiduity, ripe scholarship, and
unquenchable zeal for the purity and progress of Christ's kingdom. He
wrote extensively upon a wide range of subjects, controversial, philological, scientific, theological and practical, and his productions gained for
him a wide celebrity. Among his more elaborate treatises is one in defense of the doctrine of the Trinity, and one on the principles of Interpretation, discovering great familiarity with the laws of translation and
the principles of philology. His treatises on the "Plenary Inspiration
of the Scriptures" was used by Dr. Chalmers as a text-book in his theological instructions, and commended in terms of admiration to his students. Several volumes of his writings have been published in this
country, and also a memoir by Rev. Geo. C. Moore.
As a preacher, Dr. Carson attained to great eminence. His pulpit
preparations were very thorough, though almost wholly mental. He
seldom or never wrote his discourses. Exposition was his strong forte,
but he occasionally soared aloft in utterances of the most brilliant pulpit
eloquence. The "London Primitive Church Magazine" thus describes
his preaching: "It was characterized by great originality. He possessed
the secret of making every subject interesting. There was great variety
in all his addresses; but his chief glory was the Gospel theme. Here
bhe shone out in full luster-here all the powers of his mighty mind found
Q8




594                ALEXANDER CARSO T.
amplle scope-his manly eloquence was at home. None ever listened tc
him ungratified. Strangers who, from report, had formed high expecta.
tions, exclaimed,'The half had not been told us'-such a torrent of
magic thought would be poured forth in a style of burning, blazing, vole
canic eloquence."
It would seem that it was a habit of Dr. Carson's to write out and
expand the substance of many of his pulpit productions after delivering
them, thus giving to them a permanent value. The sections of some of
his doctrinal and devotional works are little else than sermons more fully
developed. Thus his seven sections on the Atonement are virtually
seven discourses (though of more than ordinary length), each presenting
a single point. In the last of these he takes a survey of the future inheritance, or happiness of the saints, which furnishes us, with a slight
change in its form, and some abridgment, with the following eloquent
discourse.
THE GLORY OF THE SAINTS IN HEAVEN.
" For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared
with the glory which shall be revealed in us." —RoMANS, viii. 18.
In their accounts of heaven and hell, the wisdom of men has
thought it useful to allure and frighten by the creations of fancy.
This has produced the dreams of superstition and the reveries of enthusiasm. My object is not to make a momentary impression by a
glowimg picture, but by presenting, in a clear point of view, the
testimony of the Holy Spirit, scattered through the Scriptures, to
nourish the faith of the Christian and elevate his hopes. Pagans
have a heaven, Mohammedans have a heaven, philosophers have a
heaven, and enthusiasts of all kinds have a heaven, in which they
are indulged in their favorite gratifications. My heaven shall be the
heaven of the Scriptures. I shall not drink a favorite beverage out
of the skulls of my enemies, nor rove in quest of the fattest game,
in company with the Pagan. I shall not indulge in more refined
luxury in the paradise of Mohammed, nor shall I enter into learned
conversation with the philosophers about the system of the universe,
delighted to unvail the mysteries of nature inscrutable to the present
state of our faculties. As little shall I indulge in the seeming wisdom of theological conjecture, and attempt to reveal what God has
kept secret. I shall barely point to what God has declared; and,
after the example of the apostles, reason on the import of it. For
every thing that can be fairly deduced from Scripture is Scriptural




THE GLORY OF THE SAINTS.                    595
truth. Our Lord Himself quoted Scripture not always with verbal
exactness, but substantially. The direct import of every expression
is as much its genuine meaning as the direct object which it is used
to express.
We shall first take a view of one or two passages that speak of
the future glory of the bodies of believers. In reasoning, in his first
epistle to the Corinthian Church, on the subject of the resurrection,
Paul takes occasion to give us some agreeable information with respect to the change of the body. To the question, " How are the
dead raised, and with what bodies do they come?" he replies in the
following language, "Thou fool, that which thou sowest is not quick.
ened except it die; and that which thou sowest, thou sowest not that
body that shall be, but bare grain, it may chance of wheat, or of
some other grain: but God giveth it a body as it hath pleased Him,
and to every seed His own body. All flesh is not the same flesh;
but there is one kind of flesh of men, another flesh of beasts,
another of fishes, and another of birds. There are also bodies celestial and bodies terrestrial; but the glory of the celestial is one,
and the glory of the terrestrial is another. There is one glory of the
sun, and another glory of the moon, and another glory of the stars,
for one star differeth from another in glory. So also is the resur.
rection 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. There is a natural body, and there is a
spiritual body." What a difference, then, are we, from these words,
taught to expect between the present and the future state of the
bodies of believers! In one view, the body that rises is the same
that died; in another, it is different. The identity of person in all
men, from their birth to their death, is universally believed; yet in
the end of that period, there may not be a particle of the matter
that composed them at its commencement.
We need not, then, puzzle ourselves by an attempt to accommodate philosophy with Scripture on this subject, when philosophy
can not show a reason why it agrees with common sense. The
proudest philosopher on earth can not give a reason why he believes
himself to be the same person to-day that he was yesterday; yet he
can not but believe this truth. The body of the man who dies at
the age of an hundred years is the same that he had when an infant,
yet there is not a common particle of matter in their composition.
How, then, can they be the same? Infidelity has exerted its ingenuity to show the impossibility of the resurrection, of the same




596               ALEXANDER CARSON.
identical body. The dead body of one man is converted into vegetables, or being eaten by fishes, becomes a part of their substance'
these again being eaten by other men become a part of their body.
Ye fools, you do err, not knowing the Scriptures, neither the power
of God. Learn from the apostle that identity of the particles of
matter is not necessary to identity of person.  "Thou sowest not
that which shall be, but bare grain," which dies, and God gives it a
body according to its nature. If ye despise the apostles, ask common sense; she will tell you that the infant and the man of age are
the same person. Let it be observed, however, that this is an illustration merely of a single point. It is designed to show that perfect
identity of the particles of matter is not necessary to the identity of
person; and that the corruption and gross matter of the body will
have no part in the risen body of the saints. It was this view of
the resurrection that gave such offense to the wise men of those
times.
Celcus considers the resurrection of a vile, corrupted corpse as
an abominable doctrine, and a thing neither to be expected nor to
be desired. But the apostle replies to this idea that none of the
grossness, evil, corruption, or infirmity of the body will have place
in the believer after his resurrection. To extend the illustration
further, and make the example coincident with the subject illustrated
in every point, would overthrow the doctrine of the resurrection
altogether. In the corn that springs up from the grain that is sown,
there is, properly, no resurrection; the grain in the ear is not in
any sense the same with that which died under the clod. The one
is merely produced from the other. Now, though this admirably
illustrates the apostle's doctrine in the point for which he brought it,
yet it will extend no further; for the body that rises is, in some
sense, the very body that dies. The whole phraseology employed about
the resurrection implies this. The very word resurrection implies it;
for if it is not the same, it is not a resurrection. It is said, also, that
He shall change our vile body, and fashion it like to His glorious
body. The present body, then, is to be changed. it is this that is
to be re-fashioned. This corruptible shall put on incorruption,
and become a body like that of the Son of God on the throne of
His glory.    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *
Followers of Jesus, amid the reproach of the cross lift up your
eyes to view this glorious prospect. Revive your drooping spirits
by looking at the glorious body of Jesus. "When Christ who is
our life shall appear, then shall we also appear with Him in glory."
At His coming the rightec as shall shine forth as the sun in the king




THE GLORY OF THE SAINTS.                    597
dom of their Father."  What object in nature is so glorious as the
sun? Who can look on the brightness of his beams? Who can
measure the extent and the distance of his shining? Such shall be
your glory, ye servants of the Lord, who despise the glory of this
world, through faith in His word. Look up to that heaven studded
with stars, see those bright orbs darting flames. This is but a faint
image of your glory. "They that be wise shall shine as the firmanent, and they that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever
and ever.
That the future happiness of the saints is exceedingly great, we
may learn from the contrast between this and their present calamities. The Apostle Paul asserts that our light afflictions work for us
a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. And again he says,
" I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be
compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." Now we
know that the sufferings of God's people in this world are in themseves heavy affictions, and to some grieviously heavy. If, then, the
afflictions of the most afflicted among the saints, are light contrasted
with their future happiness, how great must that happiness be I
It is sometimes said that existence even in misery is a thing deo
sirable. I can not think so. It is said that a short time of pleasure
is an equivalent for a long time of preceding pain. On the contrary
I think that a slight and short pain, is a dear price for a long time
of exquisite pleasure. It is true, indeed, rather than go out of existence, we are willing to submit to great sufferings. But this results
from a natural horror we have at non-existence, and not from a conviction of the value of simple being. In my opinion, there are so many
evils attached to human nature in its present state of degradation
and sin, that without a view to future existence in glory, existence
in this life is not an object of rational desire. I have never admired
the wisdom of some sages, who have left this world professing that
they were happy. Their happiness, in my opinion, was the result
of the blindness of their minds with respect to the real state of human
nature. Their happiness is the happiness of insanity. It is an in
sensibility to the misery of their situation, and a misconception of the
true dignity of man. All men in one way or other, are miserable,
and any happiness they enjoy is a happiness not suited to their
rational nature. But the Christian has peculiar sufferings, which
nothing but the hope of being acquitted at the bar of God, and of
reigning with Jesus, could make him  patiently endure. If, then,
these sufferings are not worthy to be compared with the glory that
shall be revealed in them, that glory must indeed be great.




598              ALEXANDER C ARSON.
We may be assisted in estimating the future glory of Christian1
by the relation which they are said to bear to God, and the titles be.
stowed on them from that connection. They are called the children
and heirs of God. It is not possible for the Almighty God to invest
created beings with higher honor. Had the utmost exertion of infinite power been put forth in creation of any being, could he have
been made worthy of higher honor than this? There is a sense in
which Adam, when created, was the Son of God: there is a sense
in which men are still the sons of God, as being created by Him.
But it is not as the objects of His creation that the saints are called
His children. It is as they are born again of the incorruptible seed
of the Word that testifies of the atonement of Jesus. He hath begotton us again to a hope of life by the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
We are the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. We are his
children as we are the brethren of His only-begotton Son. The passages that mention this title, show that it is the utmost dignity.
"Behold," says John, " what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God."  "Beloved, now are we the sons of God." This title, therefore, we enjoy
in a sense in which it is not due to the highest angel in heaven.
We are connected through our participation with Jesus, in a relation
to God, that no other created beings can boast. As the brethren
of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are nearly related to the throne of
heaven. This sets us, beyond comparison, above the highest of the
angels of God. These are the servants, but they are not the brethren of Jesus. In the sense in which we claim the title, they are not
the sons of God. Nor are they ever called His heirs —a title which
belongs exclusively to His redeemed from among the children of
men, as His children through Jesus Christ.
Children of God, what a transporting view does this give you of
your dignity! Compared with you, what are the descendants of
kings? Ye base things of this world, you are the high-born sons
of God I Even in heaven, among created beings, you have no superiors. What amazing love hath the Father thus bestowed upon us,
in advancing us from wretchedness to the highest dignity  Or,
how besotted are we ever to forget this high relation I Why do we
not exult with ecstatic joy? Why are not our hearts forever in
heaven? Why are we led astray by the allurements of the vain
things of this world? Why are we tempted by any earthly honors?
Why do we ever sigh on account of the reproach of the cross, or
regret the loss of the honor that cometh from men? Why are we
heavy on account of our present afflictions? Why are we at any




THE GLORY OF THEM S~INTS.                 599
time ready to be ashamed of such a glorious connection?  Why
should we be ashamed of obedience to such of His commandments
as are offensive to the world? Why do we not glory in being reproached for manifesting love to such a Father? We despise a man
who disgraces high descent by mean sentiments or habits. What a
disgrace in any of the children of God, to manifest a low attachment
to this world, or any of its vanities! The son of a nobleman, who
should manifest a low taste for the sports of the vulgar, who should
be found associating with the scurf of society, instead of attending
to the high concerns of his country, would be justly the contempt
of all men. And what are you, my fillow-Christians, when you
turn aside from the truth, and mix in the follies of men? It would
not be so inconsistent in the heir of a throne, to associate with a
company of strolling gipsies, as for you to join with the world in
their sentiments, interests and ways. You are the sons of the King
of kings: be ye therefore holy, for He is holy! "H aving, therefore,
these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God."
Ah, my brethren, why will you, by your misconduct, bring a reproach on the name of Jesus? Why will you give occasion to men
to speak evil of the way of truth? Why will you stumble the
world by your inconsistencies, and thus counteract the Gospel of
Christ? Ah, shame, shame I Is this the return for so much love,
for so much honor? Walk worthy of the Lord, or renounce His
name.
As children of God, they are heirs of all things. Instead of
glorying in being the disciples of eminent men, Paul informs the
Corinthians, these very men were made eminent on their account,
and given to them for their service. He goes further, and tells them
that all things, both in this world and in the world to come, are
theirs: "Therefore, let no man glory in men. For all things 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." Even this world is theirs. Though
they actually possess little of its wealth or power, yet He that rules
the rulers of the world makes all things subserve His own cause,
and contribute to the ultimate good of his people. Even in their
persecutions, their enemies are ministers to them of good. They
suffer, not from the indifference or weakness of their Heavenly Father, but that they may be made perfect like their great Head.
Shall the Duke of Wellington regret the strife of nations, through
which he is placed at the head of the children of reno wn? Shall




600                ALEXANDER CARSON.
the Christian not rejoice, when he is called to suffer for Christ's sage,:
knowing that his reward will be great in heaven?  Death itself, as
well as life, serves these heirs of God. It is the vestibule of glory
To die is their great gain. Their greatest enemy is constrained to
serve them. Things present and things to come, all, all are theirs.
This relation, and the consequences of it, are exhibited in the
fourth chapter of Galatians: " And because ye are sons, God hath
sent forth the Spirit of His Son into your hearts, crying, Abba,
Father. Wherefore, thou art no more a servant, but a son; and if
a son, thou art an heir of God through Cihrist." As the sons of
God. Christians in this state of minority enjoy the first-fruits of the
Spirit of God.  "If any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is
none of His."  This gives them a filial boldness and confidence in
approaching God through the atonement of His Son. Now the
above passage infers that they are heirs, because they are sons. If
so, this relation can not be ascribed in any figurative sense, as it is
to angels; for though they are His children by creation, they are
not therefore His heirs. They must be sons in a sense that connects
them to God as nearly as children are related to parents.  " If sons,
then heirs." Their sonship is a real relation, and consequently they
are superior to all created beings.
In the Epistle to the Romans, the apostle teaches the same
thing. " For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the
sons of God. For ye have not received the Spirit of bondage again
to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we
cry, Abba Father.  The Spirit itself beareth witness with our
spirit that we are the children of God, and if children, then heirs;
heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer
with Him, that we may be also glorified together."
Now we may estimate the greatness of our inheritance by the
riches of Him of whom we are heirs. Here reason goes infinitely
beyond imagination. The latter can form a conception of but a trifle
out of the inexhaustible treasures furnished by the former. What
inconceivable glory, what boundless bliss, must be the portion of
those whom God dignifies with the titles of sons and heirs! They
are said to be even co-heirs with Christ; to participate in the inheritance of Him who now rules the universe, and is the heir of all
things. Let us turn to a passage that exhibits the extent of this
inheritance of Christ. " For by Him were all things created that are
in heaven, and that are on earth, visible and invisible, whether they
be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers: all things
were created by Him and for Him; and He is before all things, and




Rh GtLORY OF THE SAINTS.                 601
by Him all things consist." Here we find that all the various orders
of angels, called principalities, thrones, dominions, powers, were
created by Christ, and for Him. He is then the Lord of angels.
Now if we are joint-heirs with Him, we must share with Him in His
dominion over the bright angelic hosts. This is a bold thought, but
it is demonstratively the result of Scripture language. No mathematical corollary was ever deduced from a proposition with more
convincing certainty than this is deducible from the word of God.
Without the most explicit evidence from Scripture, to put men in
such a situation, I acknowledge, would be the most frantic fanati.
cism. But I fear not the charge of enthusiasm, I fear not the common opinion; I build on the testimony of God; I point the hopes
of Christians to dominion over all created things.
I have not consulted a wild imagination in drawing a picture of
my heaven. I look full in the face of the philosopher, and sternly
say, Dare you question this reasoning?  Without overturning the
Scriptures, you can not deny my conclusion. All enthusiastic
flights I despise, I abhor. They are the delusions of the prince of
darkness, assuming the appearance of an angel of light. The joys
they communicate are like the joys of dreams or drunkenness. They
end in misery or disappointment. But shall we fear to proclaim our
mighty destination, which we learn from the Word of Truth, lest that
pretended sages should ascribe our views to the heat of our imagination? No, no, my fellow Christians, let us freely give over fanaticism to the devil and his philosophers, whom it may serve. We
have no need of it. The charter of our privileges is more extensive
than the warmest imagination could ever have represented them.
No man would ever have conceived such a destination for any of the
human race. It must be from God; for it is so far above the expect.
ations of man, that though it is most expressly revealed, most Christians are still unacquainted with the fullness of its extent. They fear
to touch the scepter that rules over angels and archangels.
Come, then, my brethren, let us again, for a moment, pause and
rejoice. From this commanding eminence take a view of the regions
of the promised land. Behold all the hierarchies of heaven under
the scepter. Behold your thrones next to the throne of God. Is
any joy so rational as yours? Moderation here is madness. Are
you raised from infinite misery to the highest dignities of heaven?
What bounds, then, should you set to your exaltation? It is not
possible to exceed. But let us always walk worthy of such dignity.
" Receiving a kingdom that can not be moved, let us have grace
whereby we may serve Him with reverence and godly fear: for our




602               ALEXANDER CARSON.
God is a consuming fire." Let our hearts at all times overficw with
gratitude to Him through whom we arrive at this eminence. If
Jesus has bought us by His blood, and raised us by His favor to
share His dominions, as one with Himself, how ought we to love
Him'? Let us account His reproach our highest glory. Let us rejoice to be accounted worthy to suffer shame for His sake. " Unto
Him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in His own blood,
and hath made us kings and priests unto God and His Father; to
Him be. glory and dominion forever and ever, Amen."
With respect to the nature of the glory of the heaven of heavens,
the Scriptures do not appear to afford much precise and specific information. It would appear in general, from the Book of Revelation, that the chief employments and happiness of the saints consist
in the praises of their ever-blessed Redeemer. On earth, though
they have not seen Him, they love Him above all things. But in
heaven their happiness is perfect in the perfect love of Him.
The representation of the new Jerusalem is evidently figurative,
and, therefore, we are not warranted to say that any of the specific
objects mentioned in this description actually exist. We ought not
to conceive heaven as being really a city, with such walls, gates,
pavements, etc.  This representation has no doubt an important
meaning, but this importance would be infinitely diminished by supposing that it is a literal description. A city thus built would be the
most glorious that the imagination could conceive to be made of
earthly materials, but it is a faint figure of the glory of the true
heaven.
Some have thought that the risen body will not possess any
powers of sensation. With respect to sight and hearing this is manifestly false. How much of the pleasure of the heavenly inhabitants
consists in the sweet and loved songs of praise to God and the Lamb?
And for what is all the glory of heaven, if not to gratify the eye?
Light is the most glorious object on earth, and the enjoyment of the
light of heaven appears to be among the most eminent felicities.
The angels of heaven are called angels of light-as distinguished
from the angels that kept not their first love, who are reserved in
chains of everlasting darkness to the judgment of the great day.
Now it appears to me that the former are so called from the light in
which they dwell, rather than from their knowledge, or from the
nature of their works, as Macknight understands the passage. It
would be difficult to poi it out a distinguishing ignorance in the fallen
spirits, and avaels of light would be a very indefinite and distant ex.




THE GLORY OF THE SAINTS.                  603
pression to denote that they are continually employed in promoting
truth and virtue. Believers may be distinguished from the children
of this world, as the children of light, because they are enlightened in
that great truth of which the others are ignorant.
God is also said to dwell in light-" who only hath immortality,
dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto; whom no
man hath seen, nor can see." This light is so exceedingly glorious
that no man in his present state can approach it. But the time will
come when even the eyes of the saints will be able to bear that
light, for "they shall see God."  "Flesh and blood shall not inherit
the kingdom of God," but the glorious spiritual bodies of the saints
will enjoy it. What must be the brilliancy of the light of heaven
when a glance of it now overpowers any of the human race? " At
mid-day, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven above the
brightness of the sun, shining round about me and then which journied with me. And when we were all fallen to the earth," etc.
"And when I could not see for the glory of that light, being led by
the hand of them that were with me," etc.
Some have supposed that God will never be visible, and that the
promise that we shall see God means only that we shall see the light
in which He dwells. It is dangerous to advance too far on such a
subject. But I am not willing even here to limit Scripture-language by views of possibility. That one spirit may have a percep.
tion of another corresponding to what we call visible, is surely not
only possible but certain. If so, why may not our spirits have such
a perception of God? And that it is impossible for the glorified
eye of the saint to have a perception of God, is more than I will
say. Let it suffice us that "we shall see God." Let us leave the
manner of this to Himself. "Take heed," says Christ, "that ye de.
spise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven
their angels do always behold the face of My Father which is in
heaven." And if angels behold the face of God, it will not be impossible for us. To behold His face must imply to view Him in His
glory; we need not, therefore, confound ourselves by any subtle inquiries about the way of seeing a spirit. God is everywhere: it is
possible to make us sensible of His presence, whatever part of space
we may at any time occupy. This is an unfathomable subject, but
though it represses arrogant inquiries beyond what is written, it
opens up a boundless field of expectation to our future state. Having such a God as a Father, what may we not expect?
There is nothing in the state of the future world about which
Christians seem more interested, than the question whether they




ALEXANDER CARSON.
will know each other. It is a consoling thought that relatives and
friends shall meet again and have peculiar satisfaction in each other's
society. There is, perhaps, little enough evidence to prove this
point, but a very little is sufficient in a matter so agreeable' to our
wishes. I am not sure that the peculiar affection for kindred will
exist in the future world. What our Lord says, in reply to the Sad.
ducees, with respect to husbands and wives, appear to be against this
view. "'They neither marry nor are given in marriage," and the
seven husbands, were they all in heaven, appear to have no disagreeable feelings from a situation that would have been a hell upon
earth. Yet if any one can show from Scripture that relations will
still retain that peculiar love for each other, I am very willing to
believe it. We must not, however, wrest Scripture, even for this
amiable purpose-the most harmless, certainly, for which the word
of God was ever perverted. One thing I think is certain: we must
lose that peculiar love with respect to our relatives and friends who
shall go into everlasting punishment. Were our affection to be as
it is now, all the glories in heaven could not make us happy. What
an agony is it now to think of the damnation of a parent or child I
Christians have continual heaviness of heart on account of their
brethren of mankind. Who can think of the Scripture denunciations against the wicked-who can read the accounts of the torments of hell, without feelings of the keenest sorrow? If so, how
can they think of the perdition of those for whom they could lay
down their lives? This part of our frame must, therefore, be al.
tered. We must perfectly accord with the will of God in all that
HIe does, and not only submit, but approve. Of this we can now
have no conception.
But the personal knowledge of each other is independent of this.
That the saints may not only recognize each other as formerly acquainted, but that they may personally know every one of the
innumerable multitude, is no extravagant opinion. The nature of
their intercourse, and the happiness of their society seem to require
this. Yet, perhaps, the passages usually alleged to prove this are
not perfectly decisive. The apostles knew Moses and Elijah on the
Mount of Transfiguration; but it must be observed that the apostles
were still themselves in the flesh, and that this might have been
learned from the conversation, or some intimation by Jesus. Certainly it was not from recognizing their persons: for with Moses and
Elijah, they had no previous acquaintance. Moses was not in the
body, *but being clothed with his house from heaven, it is likely he
had his personal likeness, as nearly as the state of glory would ad



THE GLORY OF THE SAINTS.                  605
mit. If this passage proves any thing on the subject, it is that the
glorified persons of the saints impress all that behold them with the
knowledge of them.
Dives knew Abraham and Lazarus, but this is a parable, and the
nature of it required this circumstance independent of any indirect
intention to prove personal recognition of each other in a future
state. However, this knowledge I do not question. Adam, from
an intuitive knowledge of the nature and properties of the various
animals, could give names to them before he could have had any
actual acquaintance with them. The glorified saints will possess
knowledge and every other attribute and perfection of their nature
in a degree infinitely above Adam in a state of innocence.'  v  *
The glory of the future condition of the saints may also be estimated from the love of Christ toward them. Of this immensely
great love we have the fullest proof in His humiliation and death.
Read the history of Jesus; witness the degradation and infamy of
the Son of God, behold Him an outcast from society, and at last a
willing sacrifice for our sins, even while enemies, and then let us ask
ourselves what is the extent of His love? It is beyond all description, and even beyond conception. If He loved us so while enemies, what will He not confer on us as friends and brethren? Paul
bowed his knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, praying
" That being rooted and grounded in love," the Ephesian Christians
" might be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth,
and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ
that passeth knowledge, that they might be filled with all the fullness
of God." If, then, it is a matter of such importance to know this
love; if the real extent of it is beyond knowledge; what is likely
to be the height of glory to which they will be advanced? * * *
The reward of the saints is frequently exhibited with very animating effect, under the figure of the crowns of the victors in the
Grecian games, and of the conquerors who obtain a triumph on their
return to their country. In these games the greatest men of the
times entered as competitors for the glory of victory, and even kings
thought themselves honored by obtaining the prize. The victor was
rewarded with a crown of leaves, and was received with unbounded
honor by the vast multitudes assembled from all parts of Greece.
Now, after all the self-denial of their former lives and unwearied
diligence in preparatory exercises; after all the toils, dangers, and
sufferings in the arduous struggle, they thought this crown of leaves
a high recompense. It raised them upon a pinnacle of glory, to be
viewed with admiration by all countries. Yet, as the apostle says, they




606              ALEXANDER CARSON.
had in prospect only a corruptible crown; we have in our view an
incorruptible crown. Their crown was the greatest the world could
bestow, but it was fading, and is already withered many a hundred
years. The crown of the Christian flourishes on his head with unfading freshness, and will bloom through eternity. Its glory will be
witnessed not by the people only of one age, but by all the princi*alities in heaven. What a noble excitement to ambition I
Such are the high prospects of the believers of the Gospel. Can
the proudest of the children of men boast of equal pretensions?
Speak, ye thrones of this world, tell us the glory of your dignity
Is it comparable to that of the meanest saint in heaven? Speak ye
of being born of the mighty of many generations? No more; the
Christian is a son and heir of God. Boast ye of your vast dominions and the power of your empires? Be silent; the Christian is
to reign with Christ over all worlds.
Ye conquerors, come forward with all your dazzling glories, that
we may view your honors in contrast with those of the Christian.
You have triumphed, and now inherit a deathless name. The history of the nations is the record of your exploits; the children of
all countries are familiar with your names; learning, and genius,
and power unite in raising your temples, and burning incense on
your altars. And what can the imagination conceive more glorious
on earth? Thrones and kingdoms could not purchase the glory of
Wellington. Illustrious man I When we speak of worldly glory
thou standest at the head of the human race. Compared with thine,
the glory of kings is but a vulgar glory. Who would not rather
enjoy the glories of thy name than sway the most powerful scepter
in the world? Every age produces a multitude of kings; but ages
pass away without conferring thy fame on an individual of the human race. Yet all this honor is fading; the glory of the most obscure
of the children of God is infinitely to be preferred. The Christian
conqueror is to sit down on the throne of Christ, as He has conquered
and sa down upon the throne of His Father.




DISCOURSE  FORTY.FOUJRT
CHARLES WOLFE, A.B.
WOLFE was born at Dublin in 1791, and distinguished himself in him
academic course for proficiency in classical studies, and powers of Greek
and Latin versification. His poetic genius was quite remarkakle. He is
widely known as the author of the ode on the burial of Sir John More,
commencing,
"Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note."
Besides this, he wrote several other less celebrated pieces. He was ordained a minister of the Church of England in 1817, and entered a temporary curacy at Ballyclog, Tyrone County, where his preaching drew
together many, not only of his own faith, but also of the Dissenters.
But his sun went down ere it was noon. He died in Cork, 1823, aged
thirty-two years. His sermons, and other writings, have been published
in a single volume, which is now entirely out of print.
Wolfe was evidently a young man of decided piety, genius, and literary culture. Dr. Miller, of Trinity College, Dublin, said of him, "He
combined eloquence of the first description with the zeal of an apostle."
He ascribes to him a vigorous and manly intellect, a vivid fancy and
great enthusiasm in.his profession. One night, during his sickness, he
said to a friend, " I want comfort to-night," and upon being reminded
of his having been the means of saving souls, he faintly exclaimed, " Stop,
stop-that is comfort enough for one night."
The sermons of this divine present little of abstract or metaphysical
reasoning, and no display of learned criticism. They are not so much
adapted to direct as to impel. There is in them a vein of beautiful sim.
plicity, and occasionally we meet with passages of singular eloquence.
As an example, we may refer to the paragraph in the following sermon,
beginning with the exclamation, " Such is our yoke and our burden."
THE YOKE EASY AND THE BURDEN LIGHT.
"My yoke is easy, and my burden is light." —MATTHEW, xi. 30.
It is almost always by comparison that we judge of the ease or
the hardship of our situation. You will generally find, that any




608                 CHARLES WOLFE.
man who complains of the severity of his lot, compares it either
with some happier state that he had himself formerly enjoyed, or
with the more prosperous circumstances of those by whom he is sur.
rounded; at least you would think him entitled to very little pity,
if he continued to murmur and repine when his situation was neither
worse than what it was before, nor worse than that of most of his
neighbors.
If you should attempt to reconcile him to his situation, what
would be the. most natural method of proceeding I By comparison:
by showing him how much worse it might have been. Now this is
the best way of estimating the case of the Christian yoke, and of
weighing the burden that our Redeemer lays upon our shoulders;
and thus shall we soon discover how gracious are those commandments which we think it hard to fulfill; how indulgent are those
laws which we often neglect and despise then, when we have compared them with other yokes and other burdens, shall we learn how
easy is that yoke to which we often refuse to submit; how light
that burden which we often fling with impatience to the ground.
Let us first look abroad for matter of comparison. The greater
part of the world have never yet been visited by the Gospel of
Christ; have never yet heard the message of love and salvation.
Now it may be curious to observe what are the religious yokes and
burdens which these people have imposed upon themselves; that is,
in other words, what are the religious duties by which they hope to
become objects of the Divine favor, and partakers of the blessings
He bestows-to turn away His anger, to purchase His favor, to escape His vengeance, and conciliate His mercy. Perhaps it would
be impossible to invent a new kind of bodily torture which many
among these wretched people have not willingly undergone for
these objects. All those who are anxious to render themselves aoceptable in the sight of God actually devote themselves to misery,
and go in search of some new kind of suffering, by which they
think they can become more worthy of his approbation. It would
be a kind of punishment to us even to hear some of them described.
Death, in its ordinary shape, appears much too easy, and would be
a relief to their sufferings; but they contrive to lengthen out its
agonies, so that many of them are dying for half their lives in lingering torments, in which they conceive the Supreme Being takes
peculiar delight. Sometimes those miserable men offer their chil.,
dren, their relations, or their friends, as a sacrifice to appease His
fury; and at other times they fly from the company of men, and
all the comforts of society, to devote themselves to the service of




THE YOKE EASYl AND THE BURDEN LIGHT.  60
the Almighty in caverns and wildernesses. Now observe, this arises
from no command of God —no revelation from heaven; it is the
sentence of man upon himself-the yoke and the burden that he
has laid upon his own shoulders.
Suppose God had said to us —" Wear the yoke which you find
your fellow-creatures have voluntarily chosen: I will allow you to
attain eternal life through these sufferings. *Go, be your own tor
turer-bring your children to My altar, and honor Me with your
blood; and banish yourself from the company of your fellow-creatures for ever, and you shall be an inheritor of My kingdom;" —
which of us could complain? Measure these sufferings and miseries, great as they are, with life everlasting —with the glories of God's
presence, and the unseen riches of a future world, and you would
say, Lord, here I give Thee my body, which Thou requirest to be
burned-here it is, ready for the agony; and here are the children
whose blood Thou requirest of my hands, and here am I, prepared
to fly from the fellowship of my brothers and hide my head in the
woods and the wilds from the sight of human kind —yet still I feel
it is only through the voluntary bounty of Tliy goodness and Thy
mercy, that even all this can be made to avail, and it will still be
the effect of Thy loving-kindness if even thus I become an inheritor of Thy kingdom.
Such, then, is the yoke and the burden of our neighbors, and
such is what our yoke and our burden might have been.
It is now time to look to what it is. Where now are our stripes,
-our agonies-the writhings of our body, and the woundings of our
flesh? Where is the lingering death which we are to endure, and
the visitation of the wrath of God upon our souls?  "He was
wounded for our transgressions: the chastisement of our peace was
laid on Him." There was a beloved Son, whose blood was shed for
our sakes; but the lamb was not taken from our flock, nor the child
from our bosom; there was one who left His home on high for this
wilderness beneath, and has left us in our cheerful homes, and our
peaceful habitations: His yoke was indeed severe, and His burden
was heavy, for it was our toil that He endured, and our burden that
He bore. " Surely, He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows i" and He has borne and carried them away.
There is not a single pain of body or mind that we are called
upon to endure because it is pain-or for the sake of the suffering
itself. There is, indeed, self-denial and mortification. But it seems
to be a law that can not be broken-that where there is sin there
must be pain; as long as there is sin alive within, there will still be
40




10                 CHARLES WOLFE.
the struggle and the battle. But, even here, He is still with us; for,
" I am with you, even to the end of the world;" and His holy and
powerful Spirit is ever ready to sustain us.
Now look at the imaginary god of the Indians, watching with a
kind of savage delight the agonies of his votaries; and then look
at your Redeemer, bearing away all the sufferings to which you were
levoted, and assisting you in the conflict that you have yet to undergo I He was verily and indeed crucified for our sakes, and His
body nailed to the tree; but when He turns to us, He lays the cross
gently upon our shoulders, and when He commands us to be crucified with Him, He asks for no torments, no blood, but that we
should "render our bodies a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable,
which is our reasonable service;" that we should offer them as temples for His Holy Spirit, that we may glorify Him in our body and
in our spirit. He left the bosom of His Father to become your
atonement; but when He speaks to you, He tells you to live still in
the midst of your family, to tell them how good the Lord is, to teach
them His judgments and His statutes, to show them the path of life,
and to lead the way, to educate a family for heaven, that your " sons
may be as the young plants about the house of your God, and your
daughters as the polished corners of the temple." The earth was
to Him a desert and a wilderness; He was a stranger and a pilgrim,
"that had not where to lay His head:" but when He speaks to you,
so far from commanding you to desert your common brethren and
fellow-creatures, He has united you to them by a bond as strong as
that which holds the world together; for He has said, "As I have
loved you, so love one another; and, by this shall all men know
that ye are My disciples." To perpetuate this Divine benevolence,
He has ordained that the day which He has chosen for Himself
should be a day of common assembling among those that love Him,
that they may show how they love one another. He has pro.
nounceed a blessing upon Christian fellowship-" Where two or three
are gathered together, I am in the midst of them;" and the sacrament that He left as a memorial of Himself, He left, at the same
time, as a memorial of Christian brotherhood and affection.
Such is our yoke and our burden! Let him, who has thought it
too hard and too heavy to bear, be prepared to state it boldly when
he shall appear side by side with the poor mistaken Indian before
the throne of God at the day of judgment. The poor heathen may
come forward with his wounded limbs and weltering body, saying,
"I thought Thee an austere Master, delighting in the miseries of
Thy creatures, and I have accordingly brought Thee the torn rent




THE YOKE  EASY AND THE BURDEN LIGHT.   611
nants of a body which I have tortured in Thy service." And the
Christian will come forward and say, " I knew that Thou didst die
to save me from such sufferings and torments, and that Thou only
commandedst me to keep my body in temperance, soberness, and
chastity, and I thought it too hard for me; and I have accordingly
brought Thee the refuse and sweepings of a body that has been corrupted and brutalized in the service of profligacy and drunkenness
-even the body which Thou didst declare should be the temple of
Thy Holy Spirit I The poor Indian will, perhaps, show his hands,
reeking with the blood of his children, saying, " I thought this was
the sacrifice with which God was well pleased:" and you, the Chrstian, will come forward with blood upon thy hands also, "I knew
that Thou gavest Thy Son for my sacrifice, and commandedst me to
lead my offspring in the way of everlasting life;" but the command
was too hard for me to teach them Thy statutes and to set them my
humble example: I have let them go the broad way to destruction,
and their blood is upon my hand-and my heart-and my head!"
The Indian will come forward, and say, " Behold, I am come from
the wood, the desert, and the wilderness, where I fled from the
cheerful society of my fellow-mortals because I thought it was pleas.
ing in Thy sight." And the Christian will come forward, and say,
"Behold, I come from my comfortable home and the communion
of my brethren, which Thou hast graciously permitted me to enjoy;
but I thought it too hard to give them a sbare of those blessings
which Thou hast bestowed upon me; I thought it too hard to give
them a portion of my time, my trouble, my fortune, or my interest;
I thought it too hard to keep my tongue from cursing and reviling,
my heart from hatred, and my hand from violence and revenge."
What will be the answer of the Judge to the poor Indian none can
presume to say. That he was sadly mistaken in the means of salvation, and that what he had done could never purchase him everlast.
ing life, is beyond a doubt; but yet the Judge may say, " Come unto
Me, thou heavy-laden, and I will give thee the rest which thou
couldst not purchase for thyself." But, to the Christian, " Thou,
who hadst My easy yoke, and My light burden; thou, for whom all
was already purchased —."  Thank God  it is not yet pronounced: Begone I and fly for thy life!
We have now compared the Christian yoke with that of others
-we have looked abroad for comparison. We have next to look
at home, and compare it with those yokes which the Christian yoke
displaces-those yokes which are flung oft when this is assumed.
There is the yoke of pride: and who hoa not felt its weight?




612                 CHARLES WOLFE.
There is scarcely a day of our lives in which our pride is not hurt,
Sometimes we meet with direct affront; at other times, we do not
think we are treated with the respect we deserve; at other times, we
find that people do not entertain the opinion of us which we would
wish them to hold; but, above all, how often do we find ourselves
lowered in our opinion; and then the yoke of pride becomes more
uneasy by our endeavors to regain our own good opinion, and to hide
the real state of the case from our conscience.
But the Christian's yoke is humility; its very nature depends
upon humility: for no one has submitted to the service of Christ, or
become His disciple, until fully sensible of his own unworthiness,
and, consequently, of his want of the merits of a Redeemer. Thus
has the Christian become acquainted with the plague of his own
heart; his sin has been often before him; and, however deeply he
may lament its guilt, he has lost that blind and haughty self-sufficiency that makes him uneasy at the neglect of others, or afraid to
stand the scrutiny of self-examination.
There is the yoke of debauchery and sensuality: that galling
yoke, which even those who wear it can not bear to think upon;
and, therefore, they still continue to plunge into drunkenness and
profligacy lest they should have time to think on their lost and disgraceful situation. Those miserable men, when the carousal and the
debauch are over, then begin to feel the weight and the wretchedness of the yoke that they are bearing. They then feel what it is to
load their bodies with pain and disease, and their everlasting souls
with every foul and sinful thought-to have brutalized their nature,
or to have sunk it, by intoxication, into a state of which brutes seem
incapable; and they then feel the weight of their yoke, when this
indulgence has put them into such a state of madness and insensibility that they may commit a crime, which will be the yoke and
the burden of their consciences for the rest of their lives. Is it necessary to compare the Christian yoke with this?  We will not disgrace it by naming it in the same breath.
Then there is the yoke of covetousness: and who does not know
all the cares, all the watchings, all the restless days and sleepless
nights; and, after all, the endless disappointments that the most
prosperous and successful will have to encounter through life. And
then the fearful anticipation of that day, when a man shall find that
all these things are as if they had never been I
The Christian, indeed, has his fears and his tremblings-his
watchings and his prayers; and he has to bear his burden through
the strait gate along a narrow way. But richer than all that misers




THE YOKE EASY AND THE BURDEN LIGHT.   613
ever dreamed of, or fancied, is the treasure over which he watches.,
and its attainment is as much more certain, as its value is more lasting
and more glorious: 1" Seek, and ye shall find," sounds sweetly in
his memory, and hope already represents the heaven to which he is
approaching; and the love of Christ, and the power of His Spirit,
and the conviction that the Lord is on his side, and that "He is able
to keep that which is committed to him," will make his cares and
his watchings more delightful than the rich man's repose.
0 ye sinners I who have set your hearts upon the world and its
vanities, and who say that the Lord is a hard task-master; and who
think that the spiritual delights of his service, even upon this
miserable earth, are all vain imaginations-if you do not believe that
the Lord will fulfill His promise upon earth, do you mean to say that
you believe that He will fulfill His promises in heaven? Do you
pretend that you trust in Christ for acceptance in another world,
when you doubt His good promise in this? Do you mean to say
that you believe that He is able and willing to raise your vile body
at the last day, and that He is not able and willing to support yor
under any spiritual sacrifice that you can make for His sake-that
He is not able to change and purify your old heart? Do you really
believe the one without the other?
But the grand difference between the Christian and the man of
the world is, that the burden of the one is gathering as he proceeds,
while that of the other is becoming lighter and more easy: the man
of carnal mind and worldly affections clings more and more to his beloved earth, and new cares thicken around his deathbed; his burden
is collecting as he advances, and when he comes to the edge of the
grave it bears him down to the bottom like a mill-stone. But the
blessed Spirit, by gradually elevating the Christian's tempers and
desires, makes obedience become more easy and delightful, until he
mounts into the presence of God, where he finds it " a service cf
perfect freedcwn."
















HISTORY AND REPOSITORY
OF?PULPIT ELOQUENCE.
VOLUME TWVO.








CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
THE FRENCH PULPIT.
hiSTORrIAL SKEETCH................... 
XLV.
CALVIN.
BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST. —HEBREWS, xiii 13....    12
XLVI.
BO SSUET.
FUJNERAL O1iATION OVER TtIE PRINCEJ OF COND]. —JuDGEs, vi. 12-16  23
XLVII.
BOU RDALO  UE.
TIE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.-LUKE, xxiii. 27, 28........  46
XLVIII.
F L E C H I E R.
Y7UNERAL ORATION OVER MARSHAL TURENNE.-1 MACCABEES, ix.. 7
XLIX.
LA RUE.
THE DYING SINNER.-LuKE, vii. 12.........
L.
F]NRLON.
THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH GOD.-1 THESSALOAI'ANS, V. 17...    97
LI.
A B B, A D I E.
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.-GENESIs, xxii 10........  1
LII.
SUPER VILLE.
CItRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATION. —Jom, xiv. 6......   l31
IIII.
MIASSILLON.
THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVEID. —LuKE, iv. 27.......  13S




IV             CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
LIV.
SAURIN.
PAel
THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS.-1 PETER, iL.... 157
LV.
VINET.
rE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY. —1 CoarNTHIANS, ii. 9..  183
THE SCOTTISH PULPIT.
HISTORICAL SKETCH................. 196
LVI.
JOHN KNOX.
TIHE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER.-IsAIAE, xxvi. 13-16. 207
LVII.
RALPH  ERSKINE.
THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE TO SHTILOH.-GENESIS, xix. 10... 229
LVIII.
JOHN  M'LAURIN.
GLORYING 1N THE CROSS OF CHRIST;-GALATIANS, vi. 4...... 244
LIX.
ROBERT WvALKER.
THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST.-MATTHEW, xi. 28..... 271
LX.
HUGH BLAIR.
THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME. —JoE, xvii. 1..... 282
LXI.
JOHN LOGAN.
THE CHRISTIhN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH. —1 CORINTHIANS, xv. 55-57.. 29
LXII.
THOMAS M'CRIE.
THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS -LuxE, xxiii. 42... 302
LXIII.
THOMAS CHALMERS.
THE EXPUISIVE POWER OF & NEW AFFECTION. —1 JoHN, ii 16...320




CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.           1
LXIV.
EDWARD IRVING.
PAGE
PREPARATION FOR CONSULTING THE ORACLES OF GOD.-JoHm, r. 39. 33e
THE AMERICAN PULPIT.
IISTORICAL SKETCH....................51
LXV.
THOMAS HOOKER.
THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH.-ROMANS, iv. 12.......... 368
LXVI.
COTTON MIATHER.
THE JOYFUL SOUND OF SALVATION.-PSALM lxxxix. 15....... 34
LXVII.
JONATHAN EDWARDS.
SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD.-DEUTERONOMY, xxvii 35., 395
LXVIII.
SAMUEL DAVIES.
THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS.-MATTHMW, xii. 20. 410
LXIX.
JOHN LIVINGSTON.
THE FLIGHT OF THE PROPHETIC ANGEI,.-REVELATIONS, xi 6, 7... 425
LXX.
WILLIAM WHITE.
THE SIN OF DAVID IN THE CASE OF URIAH.-2 SAMUnE, xii 1.... 443
LXXI.
JOHN LELAND.
THE JARRINGS OF HEAVEN RECONCILED BY THE BLOOD OF THE
CROSS.-COLOss IANs, i. 20.................. 454
LXXII.
JONATHAN MAXCY.
A PRACTICAL BELIEF IN THE DIVINE EXISTENCE.-RoMANs, i 20. 463
LXXIII.
EDWARD D. GRIFFIN.
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. —CoLossIAs, i 16........ 471




vi             CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.
LXXIV.
JOHN MI. MASON.
PAGJ
THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.-LuKi, vii. 22.               487
LXXV.
WILLIAM STAUGHTON.
GOD DWELLING AMONG MEN. —1 KEGS, viii. 27.......... 50
LXXVI.
GREGORY T. BEDELL.
THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORK OF RELIGION.-NEmEMIAH, vi. 3..  516
LXXVII.
STEPHEN  OLIN.
FAITH IN CHRIST THE GREAT WANT OF THE SOUL.-JoaN, xiv. 1.. 528
LXXVIII.
JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE.-3 PETER, i. 11.......... 540
LXXIX.
BELA  B. EDWVARDS.
THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM............ 556
LXXX.
ALBERT B. DOD.
THE RESPONSIBILITY OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF.-PROVERRB, xiv. 12. 5Ue
THE  WELSH  PULPIT.
HISTORICAL SKETCH..577
LXXXI.
DAVID CHARLES.
CHRIST ALL AND IN ALL.-CoLOSSIANS, iii. 11..........   584
LXXXII.
CHRISTMIAS EVANS.
TnE FALL AND RECOVERY OF MAN.-RO.3IANS, v. 15.5........59
LXXXIII.
JOHN  ELIAS.
THE TWO FAMILIES.-1 JoiN, v. 19..............  60




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THE FRENCH PULPIT.
IN the fifth century, Clovis I., a Pagan King of France, fell in love
with Clotilda, a Christian princess of the house of Burgundy, who agreed
to marry him only on condition of his becoming a Christian, to which he
consented, A.D. 491. The king, however, delayed the performance of
this condition till five years after his marriage, when, being engaged in
a desperate battle, and having reason to fear the total defeat of his army9
he lifted up his eyes unto heaven, and put up this prayer, " God of Queen
Clotilda! grant me the victory, and I vown to be baptized, and thenceforth to worship no other God but Thee!"  He obtained the victory
and at his return was baptized, at Rheims, December 25th, 496. His
sister, and more than three thousand of his subjects followed his example,
and Christianity became the professed religion of France.*
Previous to this, and probably by some of the Apostles themselves,
had Christianity been introduced into France. Eminent men had
preached the pure doctrine, and sealed it with their blood; and many
Christian societies had been formed. That now introduced, was only a
"professed" religion. Neither the king nor the subjects were cleansed
by the baptismal waters. Their morals were still corrupt; and while Christianity gained numbers, and wealth, and pomp, and worldly influence,
by union with the State, she lost her purity, and simplicity, and power.
"A virgin before, she became a prostitute now."  The nominal religion,
henceforth, was scarcely better than the very paganism which it had supplanted, and the pulpit had no more power to reform society than had
been possessed by the altars and images of the idolatrous heathen. Prevailing corruption ensued, and the evil waxed worse and worse, until, at
the Reformation, where sin had abounded, grace did much more abound.
It is true that the defection was not complete. In the obscure fastnesses of some of the mountain districts of France, pious souls, in an un.
written but bright succession, from the earliest periods downward to tile
time of the Reformation, had trimmed the flickering lamp of evangelical
truth. Unknown by the world, and unnoticed by the great, there were
doubtless many strong and noble-minded preachers, who, like Peter
Waldo, of the twelfth century, contended earnestly for the faith once
0 Robinson's Memoirs of the Reformation in France.




2                  THE FRENCH PULPIT.
delivered to the saints. Th.ese, however, were but dim and distant lights
in the surrounding darkness. The chief ministers of religion had become
temporal princes, and the high-priest had his court, his council, his embassadors, and his army. The common clergy had acquired wealth, and,
neglecting their proper duties, were occupied with their pleasures and
their estates. Preaching had degenerated into vulgar ribaldry, coarse
buffoonery, and ignorant or willful wresting of the Scriptures, to favor
3elfish designs: and the divinity of the schools was made up of idle distinc.
tions, and senseless axioms, and the rules of casuistry and low morality.
Such was the condition of the ministry, and such the character of the
preaching, when the leaven of the Reformation, which had been diffused
from Germany to Geneva, began to spread in France, about the year
1520. A few years after this Calvin made his appearance on the stage,
persecution reared its demon-head, and the Reformed Church of France
had the honor of wearing the crown of martyrdom. Leclerc, the first
leader of the Church at Meaux, and the first French martyr, was arrested
and cruelly whipped, then branded with a red-hot iron on the forehead,
then banished the town, and finally executed in 1524. The peal of the
great bell of Notre Dame, at Paris, announced the burning alive of two
other ministers, the year following; and thus the work of persecution
went on. But the work of the Lord Jesus advanced also; giving to the
words of old Chrysostom a most brilliant illustration: " O man, there is
nothing mightier than the Church. The waves do not dash in pieces the
rocks, but they themselves dissolve into foam. Cease the strife, lest it
make thine own strength to cease. Wage not war against heaven. Vie
not with God. Heaven exists for the sake of the Church."
The fortunes of the French pulpit, from this time onward to the
modern period, it is not necessary minutely to trace, as they were, in
many respects, common with those of the German pulpit, which are elsewhere given somewhat in detail. The salient points in its history can
only be noticed. The leading events affecting it, which occurred in the
sixteenth century, were the royal smiles of the pious Queen of Navarre,
who made her court a covert from the storm, " and supplied France with
preachers, and the exiles of Geneva with money;" its violent shocks from
the cruelty of Henry II., who succeeded Francis his father, in 1547; and
from the religious wars in the last half of the century, in which the Pr'nce
of Conde and the King of Navarre were leaders upon one side, and the
Guises upon the other; the horrible slaughter of the Huguenots on St.
Bartholomew's day, August, 1572, in which five thousand people in Paris
alone were massacred, and in the provinces around, not less than twenty.
five thousand, many of whom were pious and excellent Protestant
preachers. The Edict of Nantes, in 1598, happily concluded these barbar
ities, but as they were progressing, the French pulpit had presented ".
most deplorablv; aspect. It was filled with political preachers, whose
hearts were burning wit late toward the Protestants, and whose tongues




THE FRENCH  PULPIT.                       a
were drawn swords. France was absolutely at the mercy of these
preachers. The pulpit was superior to the throne, and its angry occu.
pants, whose continual cry was, "Rob! rob! slay! slay!" urged on the
king, who, if he had the disposition, had not the fortitude to withstand
their clamor.
The seventeenth century opened auspiciously for the interests of
Protestantism in France. The Edicts of Nantes, which was declared
perpetual and irrevocable, among its ninety-two articles, contained pro.
visions securing free toleration to the Protestants. The churches, by
consequence, flourished; the universities were adorned with learned
and pious professors, such as Casaubon, Daille, and others; and the
number of good pastors and able preachers, was being rapidly augmented. The death of King Henry, by the hand of the deluded Ravaillac, was a severe blow upon the rising faith; the succession of Louis
XIII. in 1610, who proved to be the mere tool of his flatterers, and his
recall of the Jesuits from their banishment, were events more threatening still; and the disaster was consummated by the domination over
the Reformed Churches of the infamous Richelieu, whom the king had
made prime minister for publishing a scandalous libel against the Protestants. The attempts of Richelieu to crush the adherents of the Reformed
doctrines, reduced the French Protestant pulpit to a state of impotency,
which only needed the series of cruelties in the succeeding reign, to
render it well-nigh complete.
About the year 1670 the bloody hand of persecution began its fearful work, in good earnest, for the extermination of the faithful. The sacking of Montauban, the prohibition of the Protestant clergy from exercising discipline over their churches or publishing books, and finally, from
preaching at all-these acts were the prelude of the Revocation of the
Edict of Nantes in 1685, which prepared the way for the grandfinale of
the bloody scene —the rack, the dungeon, the scaffold, the fetters, the
sword, the red-hot pincers, the scalding lead, the half-roasted victims,
the cut, the slashed, the wounded, the pierced, the bruised, the stretched,
the hanged, the massacred, and the fleeing from the kingdom of eight
hundred thousand individuals, whose consciences forbade connection
with the Romish hierarchy. So much for the revocation of an " irrevocable" treaty. So much for Jesuitical policy, and the so-called religion
of the Roman Catholic Church, whose " Supreme Head," in a letter to
King Louis, thanked him for his zeal and PIETY in extirpating heresy;
and ordered a Te Deum to be sung, in token of grateful praise.,
Thus closed the seventeenth century. During the eighteenth, the
line of Protestant preaching can not be traced. Teachers of the true
faith, there were, for four hundred thousand Protestants remained, not.
withstanding the efforts for their entire extermination; and they con.
tinued to assemble, in spite of threats and punishment, and like those
of old, sing Psalms to Christ as unto God. But they had no pastors,




4                  THE FRENCH PULPIT.
and the occasional visits of men of apostolic zeal, who periled their lives
to break the bread of life to the destitute, furnished most of the Protestant preaching which they heard. Romanism was in its glory. It was
triumphant. It was never before so much respected, and never will be
again.
The reign of the "GRAND MONARCH," Louis XIV., which covered
the last half of the previous century, covers well-nigh the first quarter
of this. It was the Augustan age of France. In military glory, ia
literary genius, in valuable discoveries, and the fine arts, no other
period can boast of equal brilliancy: for it was the age of Conde and
Turenne, of Corneille and Moliere and Racine, of Pascal and La Fontaine and Montesquieu, of Malebranche and Boileau and Fontenelle,
of Bourdaloue and Bossuet and Fne6lon and Flechier and La Rue,
and others, scarcely less distinguished. It was the age, also, of the
highest kind of eloquence; not of the bar, or the popular assembly, but
of the pulpit. Considered as the product of literary art, merely, the
sermon never attained to such perfection as during the time of which we
speak. Pulpit eloquence never won such brilliant achievements. The
French sermon of this period was as distinctly marked in the matter of
rhetorical finish, as was the Greek drama in the days of its glory. The
pulpit was the grand point of attraction. Around it gathered rank,
and fashion, and royalty, and the greatest scholars, and critics, and' artists, all equally thrilled, and astonished, and delighted. This wonderful
improvement in pulpit oratory, by which it was raised from the florid,
trashy, affected kind, to its greatest height of rhetorical perfection, is
attributable, mainly to Bourdaloue. To him properly belongs the glory
of reforming the French pulpit. He was speedily followed by Bossuet,
and others, in the improved mode of preaching, and for half a century
the French Catholic preachers challenge the admiration of all ages.
But the splendid age of Louis XIV. ended in exhaustion and gloom.
The heart of the nation was not sound. How could it have been, in
the fearful absence of Gospel truth? for, with some exceptions, the
preaching of the times, though brilliant, was illy adapted to reform men
by leading to a saving knowledge of Jesus Christ.
Without, there was beauty; within, there was corruption and decay.
The Church and State declined together. All the glories of the seventeenth and the earlier part of the eighteenth centuries, passed away, to
be succeeded by weakness and disorder. A spirit of skepticism had
been engendered by the tyranny of the king, and the immorality and
hypocrisy of the couxrt The awful barbarities to which innocent Christians had been suhjecjed, at the instigation of the "HOLY CATHOLIC,
THE APOSTOLIC (CURCFI," acting in the name of Jesus Christ, had awak.
ene-d disgust at the veny name of religion, and prepared a most recep.
tive soil for the seeds of German infidelity, which, about this time, were
scattered in France. In vain were the efforts of the pious Jansenists who




THE FRENE  H PULPIT                        6
sought to restore the doctrines of grace; in vain the teaching of Quietism, with Madame Guyon as its leading spirit, aiming to introduce into
the Catholic communion a spiritual religion. The downward tendency
was too strong, and the whole nation plunged into the horrible abyss of
irreligion and blood, in the Revolution of 1789.
We must not look for pulpit eloquence in France subsequent to the
close of the eighteenth century. Indeed its glory departed with the
death of the immortal triumvirate, Bossuet, Bourdaloue, Massillon. The
great Catholic preachers had no successors. And how was it possible
for learning and eloquence to flourish in the ranks of the Protestants,
when their history is but a series of sufferings, from disasters and cruel
oppression? It was not till the famous edict of Louis XVI., in 1787,
that their liberties were legally restored; and even then, they were illtreated in the exercise of their religious rights. The National AssemDly in 1789, decreed that "no one be troubled for his opinions, even of
a religious kind, provided that their publication do not disturb the public order established by law;" but yet nothing was effectually done to
guarantee full liberty of worship.
During the reign of the sanguinary Robespierre, well termed the
Reign of Terror, every form of religion was equally suppressed; and Infidelity had every thing its own way. The simple worship of God in the
Spirit, was confounded with the senseless worship of the Virgin Mary
and Canonized Saints, and the public worship of both was suppressed,
until the partial relief afforded by the act of toleration in the third year
of the Republic. Nobly did Napoleon Bonaparte, in the year 1804,
maintain the rights of conscience, in his reply to M. Martin, President
of the Consistory of Geneva, in words worthy to be had in everlasting
remembrance: " I wish it to be understood that my intention and my.firm determination are to maintain liberty of worship. THE EMPIRE
OF THE LAW ENDS WHERE THE EMPIRE OF THE -CONSCIENCE BEGINS,
Yeither the law nor the prince munst infringe upon this empire."  And
ny his several decrees in favor of Protestants, and the restoring to them
of their college at Montauban, suppressed at the revocation of the Edict
of Nantes, did he evince the sincerity of his declaration. But eleven
years from the time of uttering those words Napoleon was finally banished to St. Helena; the House of the Bourbons was restored, and that
very year saw the inhuman murder of about four hundred Protestants
at Nimes, and the flight of ten thousand others to the mountains of
Cevennes. We need not trace the history futher. Let it suffice to say
that at that time (1815), the number of Protestant ministers in France
was only about two hundred and fifty.
But though enveloped in flames, the bush has not been consumed. Of
late, there has been a revival of popery in France: but there has been a
greater revival of the primitive faith. The two great divisions in the
Protestant ranks, are the Lutheran and the Reformed Churches. The




6                  THE FRENCH  PULPIT.
former beai the German type in doctrine, and have about two nundrel
and fifty ministers. The latter, with a ministry of some six hundred,
are the descendants of the old Huguenots. The clergy of both these
churches, as well as those of the Roman Catholic order, receive their sup.
port from the National budget. The Confederated Dissenting Churches
of the Evangelical Union, an association similar to the Free Church of
Scotland, refusing to receive state support, embrace some twenty-fivo or
thirty preachers; and there are about the same number in the Uncon
federated or Independent Churches. The number of preachers in the
French Methodist Church, is also about the same. Besides these there
are others in less extensive connections. The doctrinal belief of the
present Protestant ministers of France, varies widely; from that of the
Liberals, on the extreme of Rationalism (the bane of French Protestantism), to the Evangelicals, at the other extreme of Biblicism. On one
point, at least, they all agree; the importance of rescuing the people
from the power of the Romish priesthood, to which they are profoundly
hostile. It is supposed that there are about seven hundred ministers, at
this time, in France, who are essentially evangelical in doctrine, many
of whom are burning and shining lights.
M. de Vericour, in his work on French literature, remarks that " the
eloquence of the pulpit in France is completely null." The remark is
true in the main, but should certainly be qualified in favor of some few
preachers of acknowledged attainments in pulpit oratory, both in the
Protestant and Roman Catholic connections. The general character of
the French school of preaching resembles that of the German, and is
quite unlike that of the English. The English preachers disdain the
arts of oratory, the French revel in animated diction, and graceful gesture. The former are solid, the latter ornamental. The former delve in
theological lore, and feed the understanding; the latter elaborate eloquent paragraphs, to rouse up the sensibilities, and kindle into a blaze the
feelings. The former have more of light, the latter more of heat. Both
have their faults. If the former are instructive, they are also too dull
and heavy. If the latter are animating and soul-stirring, they are sometimes too showy and bombastic. If the former are wise in having an
eye to the intellect, and the substance, they are unwise in losing sight
of the heart and the manner. If the latter delight the imagination, and
play skillfully upon the strings of the passions, it were wisdom, also, to
unfold great principles, and lay a broad and deep foundation for a substantial and vigorous Christian life:
Hence both the English and the French schools of pulpit eloquence
should be studied. Some of the dryness of even the American pulpit
could well be dispensed with, for more of the onction of the French. It
is equally unwise either to copy, or to ignore, the one or the other. Let
the excellences of both be sought after. Perhaps the present tendency
is to forget that men have sentiments and feel; igs; that there are secret




THE FRENCH  PULPIT.                        7
springs in the soul which an enchanting oratory may wisely tako advan.
tage of, in impressing Scripture truth. Should a sermon bear the marks
of the file and the cold-chisel only? Would it not be well that it
gave evidence of having been "fabricated in fi e," by coming forth all
"glowing and sparkling from the living furnace within?"  And one
means of acquiring this is an increased familiarity with the German and
French style of preaching.
The peculiarities of this school are quite ful y presented by a corn
petent hand,* in the following delineation of the leading characteristics
of the evangelical French preachers, with wnich we conclude our
sketch:
" Their sermons are almost always of a very moderate length. It is
seldom that they exceed forty-five minutes. We never heard one-and
we have heard many-which exceeded an hour. Their prayers, too, are
uniformly short, very simple, and direct. And here we may say that
the order of the service in the Reformed French churches (and the
same order prevails in the churches of the Augsburg Confession, or
Lutheran denomination), is as follows. 1. The invocation of the blessing of God on the service. 2. The reading of the Ten Commandments.
3. The Confession, a beautiful prayer, which is read in all their churches.
It is taken from their Liturgy. It is, as its title indicates, a confession
of sin. It is short, simple, and, we think, superior to the Confession in
the Liturgy of the Episcopal service, beautiful as that is. 4. The singing of a hymn. 5. The reading of a portion of the Scriptures. 6. An
extemporary prayer. 7. The sermon. 8. A hymn. 9. A prayer-usually taken from the Liturgy, and embraces petitions for the king and
queen, the other members of the royal family, and the officers and members of the government in general.  10. The benediction; which is
followed by a word of exhortation to the people to remember the poor,
as they retire. This leads to a collection for their benefit, which is made
by depositing, by all who choose to give any thing, their contribution
in boxes at the doors of the church.
"This is a brief view of the order of the services which is usually
followed in the Protestant churches and chapels in France. We have
often been struck with the just symmetry which prevails in all their
public services. Prayers, hymns, and sermons are almost always of
about the proper length. And the whole order of exercises is gone
through with so much promptitude and vivacity that there is seldom
room for ennui.
"A second characteristic of evangelical French preaching is simplicity of style. The sermons of the greater part, by far, of the evangelical
ministers of France are distinguished by a freedom of useless repetitions,
and from any thing approaching to what may be called grandiloquence.
This is far from being the case with French writers in other departments
* Rev. Dr. Baird, in Bib. Repos. 1839.




THE FRENCH PULPIT.
of literature. On the contrary, it is a fault which is exceedingly common among them, to indulge in pompous and airy descriptions, in conceits and in bon mots, which render the style obscure and destroy its
simplicity. But though this fault is of frequent occurrence among writers of France, it can not be charged upon the evangelical preaching of
that country. On the contrary, their sermons are clothed in a singular
and beautiful simplicity of style. Nothing superfluous, nothing forced
or unnatural appears in them.
"A  third characteristic of evangelical preaching is what may be
called directness of style. By this we mean that the sentiment or idea
which the speaker or writer wishes to express, is set forth in as few
words as possible. The best French writers have very much of this
quality of style, and express their meaning with almost epigrammatic
brevity. There is great beauty in this, if it be not carried too far.
Nothing suits the French nature better than to express an idea with
such brevity and concentrated force, that it may strike upon the mind
with the unexpected suddenness and force of a flash of lightning. There
is a good deal of this directness in the style of the best French preachers, though it is not usually, in their case, carried so far as to have the
appearance of being the result of a studied effort, as it so often and so
obviously is, in the case of many other writers.'" The fourth characteristic of evangelical French preaching is what
the French call onction. It is not very easy to give the reader a definite
idea of the meaning of the word onction, when thus employed. As the
word in its original sense denotes " ointment," and the " act of anointing,) it would seem difficult to trace any analogy between its meaning,
and any conceivable character of eloquence, unless it be that of smoothnaess, which is far from being the idea which the French attach to the
word onctioz, as applied to speaking or preaching. By onction they
seem to mean that characteristic of preaching which consists very much
n a solemn and yet persuasive tone of voice, united with a sort of holy
and rather formal gesturing, which, while it excites an attention nearly
allied to awe, soothes and leads the mind to devotion. They invariably
include, however, the idea that the preaching is powerful and full of
feeling. And perhaps this is the prominent idea which they now attach to the word, not excluding that of a holy solemnity in matter and
manner, which is well fitted to lead to serious emotions.
" Taking the word onction in the sense which we have just attempted
to give to it, we think that the French preachers have more of what it
imports than any other preachers whom we have ever heard. T is
remark is applicable to the tnevangelical as well as evangelical ministers.
In some cases they have a manner of utterance so studied and slow,
especially at the commencement of the services of the pulpit, that it is
drawling, and in fact disagreeable. The preachers who fall into this fault,
almost invariably have a formal, and in some degree, affected manner of




THE FRENCH  PULPIT.                       9
gesture, such as slowly elevating the hands, and stretching them out to
the utmost extent and keeping them long in that position, in prayer, and
frequently giving to their fingers, and even the whole hand, a vibratory
motion, which resembles trembling, at the moment when they pronounnev
some important word in a slow tone and with such an abundance of the
circumflex accent, as to produce a thrilling impression on the hearer,'3ut a greater part of them have a good degree of simplicity in their
nanner of speaking, and do not offend against correct taste, by.nat
studied solemnity which has just been described.
" It may be said that pathos, or the exhibition of deep emotion, characterizes French preaching to a greater degree than it does English or
American preaching. Few French preachers fail to excite more or less
of emotion in the minds of their hearers, in almost every discourse which
they deliver. By the use of touching expressions, pronounced in tones
of voice fitted to excite feeling, and united with an appearance of countenance, and a manner of gesture which indicate emotion on the part of the
speaker, they seldom fail of kindling in the bosoms of their excitable
auditors, the sentiments and emotions which the nature of the subject is
calculated to produce. We have known French preachers who are far
from being evangelical in their doctrines, who possess so much of pathos
in their delivery, who manifest so much emotion themselves, and who
adopt a manner of speaking of Christ which so nearly approaches that
which is evangelical, that they make the impression on every stranger
who is imperfectly acquainted with their character, and with the French
language, that they are persons of eminent piety and zeal! And all this
is merely an effect of their manner of speaking. The evangelical ministers of France, so far as we have heard them, seem to have attained great
propriety in their speaking, having enough of onction and pathos, and at
the same time that beautiful simplicity of manner, which accompanies
unaffected sincerity.
" The French preachers of the present day, preserve the manner of
composing their sermons which the preachers of the olden times in
France followed. Like them, they almost invariably, after pronouncing
a suitable introduction, pause, and utter a short prayer for the blessing
of God on the discussion of the subject which is to be presented in the
following portion of the discourse. To one who is not accustomed to
it, this appears remarkable, but it soon becomes a very agreeable interruption to the current of the sermon. It requires some tact to make it
in such a variety of ways, as not to prove monotonous and formal. We
will add that the majority of French ministers write their sermons with
care, and very many of them commit them to memory, and speak either
with, or without their notes before them.
" The last characteristic of evangelical French preaching which we
would speak of, is that which may be termed Biblical. The French
preachers of this school possess this important quality of good preaching




10                 THE FRENCH  PULPIT.
to a very high degree. They aim at giving simply the mind of the
Spirit.'Thus saith the Lord,' is the burden of their discourses. They
are not given to the vain speculation of a'philosophy falsely so called.'
On the contrary their sermons are generally distinguished for simple and
common sense expositions of the doctrines of the sacred Scriptures. The
discussions which they contain, are fine specimens of sound reasoning.
It is rare to find them venturing upon subjects respecting which Reve.
lation is silent, or such as manifestly transcend the powers of the human
mind. In this respect they differ widely from their neighbors on the
other side of the Rhine. While it is next to an impossibility to find a
German, even among those who are evangelical on all the fundamental
doctrines of the Gospel, who is fully brought to give up the attempt to
interpret the Scriptures by his philosophy, the Frenchman who has'put
on Christ,' is distinguished for the docility with which he submits his
mind and will to what God has revealed. And this is the glory of the
Evangelical Protestant Church of France, and has been ever since the
days of the Reformation."




DISCOURSE FORTY FIFTH.
JOHN CALVIN.
CGLAvN  was born at Noyon, in Picardy, the 10th of July, 1509, the
same year that Henry VIII. was crowned King of England, and one
year after Luther, then twenty-five years of age, was established preacher
and professor at Wittenburg. His family name was Cauvin, which he
Latinized into Calvinus. When a mere child he used to pray in the open
air; and evinced a remarkable sense of the presence of God. He studied
at the College de la Marche, at Paris, and at that of Montaign. At
twenty years of age he became preacher at Noyon. Subsequently he
turned his attention to the law, in which he became proficient. He, how.
ever, resumed his studies in theology; and was turned away from the
Catholic faith by his own investigations, and the cruel persecutions visited
upon those who adopted the views of the Lutheran Reformation. He
soon went to Italy, where he preached the new doctrine, but in 1536 was
compelled to leave the scene of his labors, when he settled at Geneva
and commenced the work of a Reformed Christian minister. Banished
thence, he found a shelter from the storm at Strasburg, where he became
professor and pastor. In 1541 he returned to Geneva and energetically
recommenced the work of the Reformation. Much of the time he
preached daily, lectured frequently in theology, presided at meetings,
instructed the churches, defended the Protestants by his writings, and
by visiting them from place to place, encouraged and confirmed their
faith. He wrote, also, many elaborate works, and performed otherwise
an amount of labor almost incredible. His health early began to decline,
and at the age of fifty-four he rested from his labors, and went up to the
reward of grace in heaven.
The moral and intellectual endowments of Calvin marked him out
for a man called and qualified to guide the opinions, and control the
emotions of men in the trying times of the Reformation. And few have
done more to shape the theological opinions of men for all time.
The cautious Scaliger pronounces him the most exalted character
that has appeared since the days of the Apostles, and at the age of twenty.
two the most learned man in Europe. His works first appeared in 1578,
in twelve folio volumes. Most of them have recently been issued by the
Calvin Translation Society of Edinburg, in some fifty vols. 8vo.




12                     JOHN  CALVIN.
As a preacher, Calvin is by no means to be ranked irith the pi ipit
orators of the 17th century. He knew nothing of the rhetorical art of
which they made themselves masters; nor had the French language yet
attained the flexibility and polish which it exhibited a century later.
Simplicity is the prominent characteristic of his sermons. His style was
like his character-plain, unartificial, transparent, and practical; verifying the remark of his biographer, that "the greater genius is always the
more simple." Calvin preached extempore; but as his utterance was
not rapid, the amanuenses reported him so exactly as to lead him to say
of some of his sermons, " they were printed just as they fell from my
lips."
The sermon here given is an authentic specimen of Calvin's pulpit
ministrations. It is one of four which he himself published at Geneva
in 1552. It was entitled " On Bearing Persecution," and he put it forth
as he says, " to exhort all believers to prize the honor and service of God
more than their own life, and to strengthen them against all temptations." A few of the less important sentences are omitted for the sake
of brevity. With this exception it is as fair a representation of the origi.
nal discourse, as can be made in the necessary translation.
BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST.
"Let us go forth out of the tents after Christ, bearing His reproach."-Heb. xiii 13.
As persecution is always harsh and bitter, let us consider How
AND BY WHAT MEANS CHRISTIANS MAY BE ABLE TO FORTIFY THEMSELVES WITH PATIENCE, SO AS UNFLINCHINGLY TO EXPOSE THEIR
LIFE FOR THE TRUTH OF GOD. The text which we have read out,
when it is properly understood, is sufficient to induce us to do so.
rhe Apostle says, "Let us go forth from the city after the Lord
Jesus, bearing His reproach." In the first place, he reminds us, although the sword should not be drawn over us nor the fires kindled
to burn us, that we can not be truly united to the Son of God while
we are rooted in this world. Wherefore, a Christian, even in repose,
must always have one foot lifted to march to battle, and not only
so, but he must have his affections withdrawn from the world,
although his body is dwelling in it. Grant that this at first sight
seems to us hard, still we must be satisfied with the words of St. Pa:il,
"We are called and appointed to suffer."  As if he had said such is
our condition as Christians; this is the road by which we must go,
if we would follow Clhrist.
Meanwhile, to solace our infirmity and mitigate the vexation and




BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST.                13
sorrow which persecution might cause us, a good reward is held forth.
In suffering for the cause of God, we are walking step by step after
the Son of God, and have Him for our guide. Were it simply said
that to be Christians we must pass through all the insults of the
world boldly, to meet death at all times and in whatever way God
may be pleased to appoint; we might apparently have some pretext
for replying, It is a strange road to go at a peradventure. But when
we are commanded to follow the Lord Jesus, His guidance is too
good and honorable to be refused.
Now, in order that we may be more deeply moved, not only is
it said that Jesus Christ walketh before us as our Captain, but that
we are made conformable to His image; as St. Paul speaks in the
eighth chapter to the Romans, " God hath ordained all those whom
He hath adopted for His children, to be made conformable to Him
who is the pattern and head of all."
Are we so delicate as to be unwilling to endure any thing? Then
we must renounce the grace of God by which He has called us to
the hope of salvation. For there are two things which can not be
separated-to be members of Christ, and to be tried by many afflictions. We certainly ought to prize such a conformity to the Son of
God much more than we do. It is true that in the world's judg-.
ment there is disgrace in suffering for the Gospel. But since we know
that unbelievers are blind, ought we not to have better eyes than
they? It is ignominy to suffer from those who occupy the seat of
justice, but St. Paul shows us by his example that we have to glory
in scourgings for Jesus Christ, as marks by which God recognizes
and avows us for His own. And we know what St. Luke narrates
of Peter and John, namely, that they rejoiced to have been " counted
worthy to suffer infamy and reproach for the name of the Lord
Jesus."
Ignominy and dignity are two opposites; so says the world,
which, being infatuated, judges against all reason, and in this way
converts the glory of God into dishonor. But, on our part, let us
not refuse to be vilfied as concerns the world, in order to be honored
before God and His angels. We see what pains the ambitious take
to receive the commands of a king, and what a boast they make of
it. The Son of God presents His commands to us, and every one
stands back! Tell me, pray, whether in so doing we are worthy of
having any thing in common with Him? There is nothing here to
attract our sensual nature, but such notwithstanding are the true
escutcheons of nobility in the heavens. Imprisonment, exile, evil
report, imply in men's imaginations whatever is to be vituperated;




14                    JOHN CALVIN.
but what hinders us from viewing things as God judges and declares
them, save our unbelief? Wherefore, let the name of the Son of
God have all the weight with us which it deserves, that we may learn
to count it honor when He stamps His mark upon us. If we act
otherwise, our ingratitude is insupportable I Were God to deal with us
according to our deserts, would He not have just cause to chastise us
daily in a thousand ways?  Nay more, a hundred thousand deaths
would not suffice for a small portion of our misdeeds I Now, if in
His infinite goodness, He puts all our faults under His foot, and abolishes them, and instead of punishing us according to our demerit,
devises an admirable means to convert our afflictions into honor and
a special privilege, inasmuch as through them we are taken into
partnership with His Son, must it not be said, when we disdain such
a happy state, that we have indeed made little progress in Christian
doctrine?
Accordingly St. Peter, after exhorting us to walk so purely in
the fear of God, as "not to suffer as thieves, adulterers, and murderers," immediately adds, "If we must suffer as Christians, let us
glorify God for the blessings which He thus bestows upon us."
It is not without cause he speaks thus. For who are we, I pray, to
be witnesses of the truth of God, and advocates to maintain His
cause? Here we are, poor worms of the earth, creatures full of
vanity, full of lies, and yet God employs us to defend His truth-an
honor which pertains not even to the angels of heaven I May not
this consideration alone well inflame us to offer ourselves to God to
be employed in any way in such honorable service?
Many persons, however, can not refrain from pleading against God;
or, at least, from complaining against Him for not better supporting
their weakness. It is marvelously strange, they say, how God, after
having chosen us for His children, allows us to be so trampled upon
and tormented by the ungodly. I answer, even were it not apparent
why He does so, He well might exercise His authority over us, and
fix our lot at His pleasure. But when we see that Jesus Christ is
our pattern, ought we not, without inquiring further, to esteem it
great happiness that we are made like Him? God, however, makes
it very apparent what the reasons are for which He is pleased that
we should be persecuted. Had we nothing more than the consideration suggested by St. Peter, (1 Pet. i. 7.) we were disdainful indeed not
to acquiesce in it. He says,' Since gold and silver, which are only
corruptible metals, are purified and tested by fire, it is but reasonable
that our faith, which surpasses all the riches of the world, should be
tried.' It were easy, indeed, for God to crown us at once without




BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST.                15
requiring us to sustain any combats; but as it is His pleasuIe that
until the end of the world Christ shall reign in the midst of His
enemies, so it is also His pleasure that we, being placed in the midst
of them, shall suffer their oppression and violence till He deliver
us. I know, indeed, that the flesh kicks when it is to be brought to
this point, but still the will of God must have the mastery. If we
feel some repugnance in ourselves, it need not surprise us; for it is
only too natural for us to shun the cross. Still let us not fail to surmount it, knowing that God accepts our obedience, provided we
bring all our feelings and wishes into captivity, and make them
subject to Him.
When the Prophets and Apostles went to death, it was not
without feeling within some inclination to recoil.  "They will
lead thee whither thou wouldst not," said our Lord Jesus Christ to
Peter. When such fears of death arise within us, let us gain the
mastery over them, or rather let God gain it; and, meanwhile, let
us feel assured that we offer Him a pleasing sacrifice when we resist
and do violence to our inclinations for the purpose of placing ourselves entirely under His command. This is the principal war in
which God would have His children to be engaged. He would have
them strive to suppress every rebellious thought and feeling which
would turn them aside from the path to which He points. And the
consolations are so ample that it may well be said, we are more than
cowards if we give way I
In ancient times vast numbers of people, to obtain a simple crown
of leaves, refused no toil, no pain, no trouble; nay, it even cost
them nothing to die, and yet every one of them fought for a perad.
venture, not knowing whether he was to gain or lose the prize. God
holds forth to us the immortal crown by which we may become
partakers of His glory. He does not mean to fight at hap-hazard,
but all of us have a promise of the prize for which we strive. Have
we any cause then to decline the struggle? Do we think it has beeB
said in vain, "If we die with Jesus Christ we shall also live with
Him?" Our triumph is prepared and yet we do all we can to shun
the combat I
But it is said that " all we teach on this subject is repugnant to
human judgment." I confess it. And hence when our Savioar declares, " Blessed are they who are persecuted for righteousness' sake,"
He gives utterance to a sentiment which is not easily received in the
world. On the contrary, He wishes to account that as happiness,
which in the judgment of sense is misery. Wte seem to ourselves
miserable when God leaves us to be trampled upon by the tyranny




and cruelty of our enemies; but the error 1S that we look not to the
promises of God, which assure us that all will turn to our good.
We are cast down when we see the wicked stronger than we, and
planting their foot on our throat; "But such confusion should
rather," as St. Paul says, " cause us to lift up our heads." Seeing we
are too much disposed to amuse ourselves with present objects, God,
in permitting the good to be maltreated and the wicked to have
sway, shows by evident tokens that a day is coming on which all
that is now in confusion will be reduced to order. If the period
seems distant, let us run to the remedy, and not flatter ourselves in
olur sin; for it is certain that we have no faith if we can not carry
our views forward to the coming of Jesus Christ.
To leave no means which may be fitted to stimulate us unemployed, God sets before us PROMISES on the one hand, and THREATENINGS on the other. Do we feel that the promises have not sufficient
influence, let us strengthen them by adding the threatenings. It is
true we must be perverse in the extreme not to put more faith in the
promises of God, when the Lord Jesus says that He will own us as
His before His Father, provided we confess Him before men. What
should prevent us from making the confession which He requires?
Let men do their utmost, they can not do worse than murder us;
and will not the heavenly life compensate for this? I do not here
collect all the passages of Scripture which bear upon this subject;
they are so often reiterated that we ought to be perfectly satisfied
with them. When the struggle comes, if three or four passages do
not suffice, a hundred surely ought to make us proof against all
temptations I
But if God can not win us to Himself by gentle means, must we
not be mere blocks if His threatenings also fail? Jesus Christ sum
mons all those who from fear of temporal death shall have denied
the truth, to appear at the bar of God His Father, and says, "That
then both soul and body will be consigned to perdition." And in
another passage He says, " That He will disclaim all those who shall
have denied Him before men."  These words, if we are not altogether impervious to feeling, might well make our hair stand on
end I Be this as it may, this much is certain-if these things do not
move us as they ought, nothing remains for us but a fearful judgment.
All the words of Christ having proved unavailing, we stand comn
victed of gross infidelity.
It is vain for us to allege that pity should be shown us, inasmuch
as our nature is so frail; for it is said, on the contrary, that Moses
having looked to God by faith was fortified so as not to yield under




BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST.                17
any temptation. Wherefore, when we are thus soft and easy to
bend, it is a manifest sign-I do not say that we have no zeal, no
firmness —but that we know nothing either of God or His kingdom.
When we are reminded that we ought to be united to our Head, it
seems for us a fine pretext for corruption to say, that we are men!
But what were those who have trodden the path before us? Indeed,
had we nothing more than pure doctrine, all the excuses we could
make would be frivolous; but having so many examples, which
ought to supply us with the strongest proof, the more deserving are
we of condemnation.
There are two points to be considered. The first is, that the
whole body of the Church has always been, and to the end will
be, liable to be afflicted by the wicked, as is said in Psalm, cxxix.
i: "From  my youth up they have tormented me, and dragged
the plow over me from one end to the other."  The Holy Spirit
there brings in the ancient Church, in order that we, having
been much acquainted with her afflictions, may not regard it either
as new or vexatious, when the like is done to ourselves in the present day. St. Paul, also, in quoting from another Psalm, a passage
in which it is said, "We have been like sheep to the slaughter;"
shows that that has not been for one age only, but is the ordinary
condition of the Church, and shall be.
Therefore, in seeing how the Church of God is trampled upon in
the present day by proud worldlings, how one barks, and another
bites; how they torture, how they plot against her; how she is assailed incessantly by mad dogs, and savage beasts, let it remind us
that the same thing was done in all the olden time. It is true God
sometimes gives her a time of refreshment and a truce, hence, in the
Psalm above quoted, it is said,'He cutteth the cords of the wicked;
and in another passage,'He breaks their staff, lest the good shoulk
fall away, by being too hardly pressed.' But still it has pleased
Him that His Church should always have to battle so long as she is
in this world, her repose being treasured upon high in the heavens.
Meanwhile, the issue of her afflictions has always been fortunate.
At all events God has caused that though she has been pressed by
many calamities, she has never been completely crushed; as it is said,'The wicked, with all their efforts have not succeeded in that at
which they aimed.' St. Paul glories in the fact, and shows that this
is the course which God in mercy always takes, " We endure tribulations, but we are not in agony; we are impoverished, but not left
destitute; we are persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but we
perish not; bearing every where in our bodies the mortification of
2




JOHN CALVIN.
the Lord Jesus, in order that His life may be manifested in our
mortal bodies." Such being, as we see, the issue which God has at
all times given to the persecutions of His Church, we ought to take
courage, knowing that our forefathers, who were frail men like ourselves, always had the victory over their enemies, by remaining firm
in endurance.
I only touch on this article briefly, to come to the second, which.s more to our purpose, viz.: that WE OUGHT TO TAKE ADVANTAGE
OF THE PARTICULAR MARTYRS WHO HAVE GONE BEFORE US.
These are not confined to two or three, but are, as the Apostle
says, " a great and dense cloud." By this expression he intimates
that the number is so great that it ought, as it were, completely to
engross our sight. Not to be tedious, I will only mention the Jews,
who were persecuted for the true religion, as well under the tyranny
of King Antiochus as a little after his death. We can not allege
that the number of sufferers was small, for it formed, as it were,
a large army of martyrs. We can not say that it consisted of
prophets, whom God had set apart from the common people; for
women and young children formed part of the band. We can not
say that they got off at a cheap rate, for they were tortured as cruelly
as it was possible to be. Accordingly, we hear what the Apostle
says: " Some were stretched out like drums, not caring to be delivered, that they might obtain a better resurrection; others were
proved by mockery and blows, or bonds and prisons; others were
stoned or sawn asunder; others traveled up and down, wandering
among mountains and caves.'
Let us now compare their case with ours. If they so endured for
the truth, which was at that time so obscure, what ought we to do
in the clear light which is now shining? God speaks to us with
open voice; the great gate of the kingdom of heaven has been
opened, and Jesus Christ calls us to Himself, after having come down
to us, that we might have Him, as it were, present to our eyes. What
a reproach would it be to us to have less zeal in suffering for the
Gospel, than those had who only hailed the promises afar off, who
had only a little wicket opened, whereby to come to the kingdom
of God, and who had only some memorial and type of Christ I These
things can not be expressed in word as they deserve, and therefore I
leave each to ponder them for himself.
Let it be considered3 then, as a fixed point among all Christians,
that they ought not to hold their life more precious than the testimony
to the truth, inasmuch as God wishes to be glorified thereby. Is it
in vain that He gives the name of WITNESSES (for this is the mean.




BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST.                19;zg of the word MARTYR) to all who have to answer before the enemies of the faith? Is it not because He wishes to employ them for
such a purpose? Here every one is not to look for his fellow, for
God does not honor all alike with the call. And as we are inclined
so to look, we must be the more on our guard against it. Feter
having heard from the lips of the Lord Jesus that he should be led
in his old age where he would not, asked, What was to become of
his companion John? There is not one among us who could not
readily have put the same; for the thought which instantly rises in
our minds is, Why do I suffer rather than others? On the contrary,
Jesus Christ exhorts all of us in common, and each of us in particular,
to hold ourselves "ready," in order that, according as He shall call
this one or that one, we may march forth in our turn.
I explained above, how little prepared we shall be to suffer martyrdom, if we be not armed with the Divine PROMISES. It now remains to show, somewhat more fully, WHAT THE PURPORT AND AIM
OF THESE PROMISES ARE-not to specify them all in detail, but to show
the principal things which God wishes us to hope from Him to console
us in our afflictions. Now these things, taken summarily, are three.
The first is, THAT, INASMUCH AS OUR LIFE AND DEATH ARE IN HIS
HAND, HE WILL SO PRESERVE US BY HIS MIGHT THAT NOT A HAIR
WILL BE PLUCKED OUT OF OUR HEADS WITHOUT HIS LEAVE. Believers, therefore, ought to feel assured, into whatever hands they
may fall, that God is not divested of the guardianship which He exercises over their persons. Were such a persuasion well imprinted
on our hearts, we should be delivered from the greater part of the
doubts and perplexities which torment us, and obstruct us in our
duty.
We see tyrants let loose: thereupon it seems to us that God nc
longer possesses any means of saving us, and we are tempted to
provide for our own affairs as if nothing more were to be expected
from Him. On the contrary, His providence, as He unfolds it,
ought to be regarded by us as an impregnable fortress. Let us labor,
then, to learn the full import of the expression that our bodies are
in the hands of Him who created them. For this reason He has
sometimes delivered His people in a miraculous manner, and beyond
all human expectation, as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, from
the fiery furnace; Daniel from the den of lions; Peter from Herod's
prison, where he was locked in, chained, and guarded so closely.
By these examples He meant to testify that He holds our enemies in
check, although it may not seem so, and has power to withdraw us
from the midst of death when He pleases. Not that He always does




20                   JOHN CALVIN.
it; but in reserving authority to Himself, to dispose of us for life
and death, He would have us to feel fully assured that He has us
under His charge; so that whatever tyrants attempt, and with whatever fury they:nay rush against us, it belongs to Him alone to order
our life.
If He permits tyrants to slay us, it is not because our life is not
dear to Him, and in greater honor, a hundred times, than it deserves.
Such being the case, having declared by the mouth of David that
the death of His saints is precious in His sight, He says also, by the
mouth of Isaiah, that the earth will discover the blood which seems
to be concealed. Let the enemies of the Gospel, then, be as prodigal as they will of the blood of martyrs; they shall have to render a
fearful account of it, even to the last drop! In the present day, they
indulge in proud derision while consigning believers to the flames;
and after having bathed in their blood, they are intoxicated by it to
such a degree as to count all the murders they commit mere festive
sport. But if we have patience to wait, God will show in the end
that it is not in vain He has iated our life at so high a value 
Meanwhile, let it not offend us that it seems to confirm the Gospel,
which in worth surpasses heaven and earth I
To be better assured that God does not leave us as it were forsa.
ken in the hands of tyrants, let us remember the declaration of Jesus
Christ, when He says that He Himself is persecuted in His members.
God had indeed said before, by Zechariah, "He who touches you,
toucheth the apple of Mine eye;" but here it is said much more
expressly that if we suffer for the Gospel, it is as much as if the Son
of God were suffering in person. Let us know, therefore, that Jesiu
Christ must forget Himself before He can cease to think of us when
we are in prison, or in danger of death for His cause; and let us
know that God will take to heart all the outrages which tyrants commit upon us, just as if they were committed on His own Son.
Let us now come to our second point, which God declares to us
in His promise for our consolation. It is, that He WILL SO SUSTArIN
US BY THE ENERGY OF HIS SPIRIT, THAT OUR ENEMIES, DO WHAT
THEY MAY, EVEN WITH SATAN AT THEIR HEAD, WILL GAIN NO ADVANTAGE OVER US. And we see how He displays His gifts in such
an emergency; for the invincible constancy which appears in the
martyrs, abundantly and beautifully demonstrates that God works in
them mightily. In persecution there are two things grievous to the
flesh, the vituperation and insult of men, and the tortures which the
body suffers. Now, God promises to hold out His hand to us so
effectually that we shall overcome both by patience. What He




BEARING THE REPROACH OF CHRIST.                  21
thus tells, us He confirms by fact. Let us take this buckler, then,
to ward off all fears by which we are assailed; and let us not confine the workings of the Holy Spirit within such narrow limits
as to suppose that He will not easily surmount all the cruelties of
men.   *    *    *    *    *
The third point for consideration, in the promises which God
gives to His martyrs, is, THE FRUIT WHICH THEY OUGHT TO HOPE
FOR FROM THEIR SUFFERINGS, AND, IN THE END, IF NEED BE, FROM
THEIR DEATH. Now, this fruit is, that after having glorified His
name, after having edified the Church by their constancy, they will
be gathered together with the Lord Jesus into His immortal glory.
But as we have above spoken of this at some length, it is enough
here to recall it to remembrance. Let believers, then, learn to lift
up their heads toward the crown of glory and immortality to which
God invites them, that thus they may not feel reluctant to quit the
present life for such a recompense, and to feel well assured of this
inestimable blessing; let them have always before their eyes the
conformity which they thus have to our Lord Jesus Christ; beholding death in the midst of life, just as He, by the reproach of the
cross, attained to the glorious resurrection, wherein consists aU ouz
felicity, joy, and triumph I




DISCOURSE FORTYSIXTHI
JAMES BENIGNt BOSSUET.
BOSSUET was born at Dijon, in Burgundy, the 27th of Septenib(r,
1627, and died at Paris, 1704. From the first he exhibited remarkable
fondness for study; and at the age of sixteen, astonished his friends by
his precocious displays of extemporaneous eloquence. His studies for
the ministry, to which he was destined from his early youth, were pursued, first in the Jesuit College at Dijon; and upon abandoning that order,
he resorted to the College of Navarre, in Paris. The great orators of
Greece and Rome, and the works of Chrysostom and Augustine, were enthusiastically studied and admired by him for their lofty eloquence.
His first appearance in the pulpit, in Paris, produced a wide sensation,
and drew crowds of admiring listeners. Soon after he was called to the
Court, and appointed to deliver the Lent Sermons in 1662. The king,
Louis XIV, was delighted with the young preacher, and appointed him
to the See of Condom, and afterward to that of Meaux, beside conferring upon him many other honors.
The heart of Bossuet excites our admiration to a much less extent
than does his head. Perhaps it is not strange that a worldly, ambitious,
and proud spirit should have been begotten and fostered, amid the fas.
oinations and corruptions that surrounded him. The favorite of the
clergy, and the opponent of a pure, simple, spiritual faith, it is not surprising that he became the oppressive dictator, and tarnished his fair
fame by persecuting some of the purest and best spirits of his age. But
the genius of Bossuet, especially his powers of oratory, can scarcely be
overrated. He was styled the Plato of the clergy, because he was
"Philosopher, Orator, and Poet."  The snarling Voltaire, who often
attended his preaching, remarked that among all the elegant writers of
the age, Bossuet was the only eloquent man. It is admitted by French
critics that his style is as faultless as that of any writer in any tongue.
The term which characterizes the discourses of Bossuet is magnifi
cence. His best productions are Funeral Orations; indeed most of his
ordinary sermons come to us only in fragments. Rut those in which he
celebrates the illustrious dead, exhibit the traces of a masterly skill




FUNERAL ORATION.                        23
Here, every stone is squared and polished, and every sentence, image,
word, subjected to the severest ordeal; yet though elaborated to the
highest possible degree, they are spirited, and animated with the boldest
figures; and frequently rise to true sublimity of expression. They are
simple, and yet majestic; triumphantly splendid, but without the affectation of pomp. His best Oration is that pronounced at the funeral of
the great Conde. The occasion was one of surpassing interest, the
orator fully comprehended and admired the character and life of him
whom he celebrates, and was able to take advantage of every incident;
and he entered into his subject with the highest enthusiasm. Advanced
in years, he never expected to deliver another Oration of the kind;
and, as he arose, himself deeply affected, and surrounded by the symbols of woe with which the great church of Notre Dame was hung,
and the weeping crowd, made up of the rank and talent of the kingdom, he solemnly pronounced his text, and the striking introduction,
and then poured forth a flood of eloquence, itself enough to immortalize his name. To adopt the criticism of another, As the orator advances
he gathers strength by the force of his movement: his thoughts bound
and leap like the quick and impetuous sallies of the warrior whom he
describes: his language glows and sparkles, rushes and rejoices, like a
free and bounding river, sweeping in beauty through the open champaign, gathering volume and strength from tributary streams, glancing
through green meadows and dark woodlands, rushing through forests
and mountains, and finally plunging, with resistless force and majesty,
into the open sea.
FUNERAL ORATION FOR LOUIS BOURBON,
PRINCE OF CONDE.
DELIVERED BEFORE LOUIS XIV.
" The Lord is with thee, thou mighty man of valor. Go in this thy might. Surely I
will be with thee."-JuDGEs, vi 12, 14, 16.
At the morrent that I open my lips to celebrate the immortal
glory of Louis Bourbon, Prince of Conde, I find myself equally
overwhelmed by the greatness of the subject, and, if permitted to
avow it, by the uselessness of the task. What part of the habitable
world has not heard of the victories of the Prince of Condo, and
the wonders of his life? Every where they are rehearsed. The
Frenchman, in extolling them, can give no information to the
stranger. And although I -nay remind you of them to day, yet,




24              JAMES BENIGNt BOSSUET.
always anticipated by your thoughts, I shall have t. suffer your
secret reproach for falling so far below them. We feeble orators can
add nothing to the glory of extraordinary souls. Well has the sage
remarked that their actions alone praise them; all other praise languishes by the side of their great names. The simplicity of a faithful narrative alone can sustain the glory of the Prince of Conde.
But expecting that history, which owes such a narrative to future
ages, will make this appear, we must satisfy, as we can, the gratitude
of the public, and the commands of the greatest of kings. What
does the empire not owe to a prince who has honored the house of
France, the whole French name, and, so to speak, mankind at large!
Louis the Great himself has entered into these sentiments. After
having mourned that great man, and given by his tears, in the presence of his whole court, the most glorious eulogy which he could
receive, he gathers together in this illustrious temple whatever is
most august in his kingdom, to render public acknowledgments to
the memory of the Prince; and he desires that my feeble voice
should animate all these mournful signs-all this funeral array. Let
us then subdue our grief and make the effort.
But here a greater object, and one more worthy of the pulpit,
presents itself to my thoughts. God it is who makes warriors and
conquerors.  "Thou," said David, "hast taught my hands to war,
and my fingers to fight."  If He inspires courage He gives no less
other great qualities, natural and supernatural, both of the mind
and heart.  Every thing comes from His powerful hand; from
heaven He sends all generous sentiments, wise counsels, and good
thoughts. But He would have us to distinguish between the gifts
which He abandons to His enemies and those which He reserves for
His servants. What distinguishes His friends from all others is
piety; until that gift of Heaven is received, all others are not only
useless, but aid the ruin of those whom they adorn. Without this
inestimable gift of piety, what were the Prince of Conde, with all
his great heart and lofty genius? No, my brethren, if piety had
not consecrated his other virtues, neither these princes would have
found any solace for their grief, nor that venerable prelate any confidence in his prayers, nor myself any support for the praises which
are due to so great a man. Under the influence of such an example,
let us lose sight of all human glory I Destroy the idol of the am.
bitious! Let it fall prostrate before these altars I! On this occasion,
group together-for we can do it with propriety-the highest qualities of an excellent nature, and to the glory of truth, exhibit in a
Prince universally admired whatever constitutes the hero and car.




FUNERAL ORATION.                      25
ries the glory of the world to the loftiest eminence, valor, magnanimity, and natural goodness —qualities of the heart; vivacity and
penetration, grandeur of thought, and sublimity of genius-qualities of
the intellect; all would be nothing but an illusion if piety were not
added-piety, which indeed is the whole of man! This it is, messieurs,
which you see in the life, eternally memorable, of the high and illus.
trious Prince Louis Bourbon, Prince of Conde, Prince of the blood I
God has revealed to us that He alone makes conquerors, that He
alone causes them to subserve His designs. Who made Cyrus but
God, who, in the prophecies of Isaiah, named him two hundred
years before his birth? " Thou hast not known Me," said He to
him, "but I have even called thee by thy name, and surnamed
thee. I will go before thee and make the crooked places straight; I
will break in pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of
iron. I am the Lord, and there is none else, there is no God beside
Me. I form the light and create darkness;" as if He had said, "I
the Lord do every thing, and from eternity know every thing that I
do." Who could have formed an Alexander but the same God who
made him visible from afar to the prophet Daniel, and revealed by
such vivid images his unconquerable ardor? "' See," said He, " that
conqueror, with what rapidity he advances from the west, as it were
by bounds and without touching the earth." Resembling, in his
bold movements and rapid march, certain vigorous and bounding
animals, he advances, only by quick and impetuous attacks, and is
arrested neither by mountains nor precipices. Already the King of
Persia falls into his power. At sight of him, he is " moved with
anger-rushes upon him, stamps him under his feet; none can defend him from his attacks, or deliver him out of his hand." Listening only to these words of Daniel, whom do you expect to see under
that image-Alexander or the Prince of Conde? God had given
him that indomitable valor for the salvation of France during the
minority of a king of four years. But let that king, cherished of
heaven, advance in life, every thing will yield to his exploits.
Equally superior to his friends and his enemies, he will hasten now
to employ, now to surpass his most distinguished generals; and
under the hand of God, who will ever befriend him, he will be acknowledged the firm  bulwark of his kingdom.  But God had
chosen the Duke d'Enghien* to defend him in his childhocl. Thus,
during the first years of his reign, the Duke conceived a design which
the most experienced veterans could not achieve; but victory justi.
fled it before Rooroy I True, the hostile army is the stronger, It is
0 The original name of the Prince of Cond&.




26             JAMES BENIGNt BOSSUET.
composed of those old bands of Valonnaise, Italians, and Spaniards,
which never till then were broken. But how much could be counted
on the courage which inspired our troops, the pressing necessity of
the state, past advantages, and a Prince of the blood who carried
victory in his eyes! Don Francisco de Mellos steadily waits his approach; and, without the possibility of retreating, the two generals
and their armies had chosen to shut themselves in by woods and
marshes, in order to decide their quarrels like two warriors, in close
combat. Then, what was seen? The young Prince appeared another man! Moved by so great an object, his mighty soul revealed
itself entire; his courage increased with his peril, his sagacity with
his ardor. During the night, which must be spent in presence of the
enemy, like a vigilant general, he was the last to retire; yet never
did he repose more peacefully. In the prospect of so great a day,
and his first battle, he is tranquil; so much is he in his element; for
well is it known that on the morrow, at the appointed time, he
must awake front his profound slumber —another Alexander! See
him, as he flies, either to victory or to death. As soon as he has
conveyed from rank to rank the ardor which animates himself, he is
seen, almost at the same time, attacking the right wing of the enemy; sustaining ours about to give way; now rallying the half-subdued Frenchman, now putting to flight the victorious Spaniard;
carrying terror every where, and confounding with his lightning
glance those who had escaped his blows. But that formidable infantry of the Spanish army, whose heavy and wedged battalions,
resembling so many towers-towers which had succeeded in repairing their breaches-remained immovable in the midst of all others
in disorder, and from all sides kept up a steady fire. Thrice the
young conqueror attempted to break these intrepid warriors; thrice
was he repulsed by the valorous Count de Fontaine, who was borne
in his carriage, and, notwithstanding his infirmities, proved that the
warrior spirit is master of the body which it animates. In vain
does Bek, with his fresh cavalry, endeavor to rush through the wood
to fall on our exhausted soldiers; the Prince has prevented him;
the routed battalions demand quarter: but victory is more disastrous to the Dike d'Enghien than conflict itself. As he advances
with an assured air to receive the parole of those brave men, they,
ever on their guard, are seized with the fear of being surprised by a
new attack;-their terrible discharge renders our army furious;
nothing is seen but carnage; blood maddens the soldier; until that
great Peince, who c(ould not slaughter those lions like timid sheep,
calmed their excited courage, and joined to the pleasure of conquer




FUNERAL ORATION.                       27
mng that of fardoning his enemies. What then was the astonishment
of those veteran troops and their brave officers, when they saw that
there was no safety but in the arms of the conqueror I With what
wonder did they look upon that young Prince, whose victory had
enhanced his lofty bearing, and whose clemency added to it a new
charm I Ah, how willingly would he have saved the brave Duke
de Fontaine! But he was found prostrate among thousands of the
dead, of whom Spain yet feels the loss. She knew not that the
Prince who had destroyed so many of her veteran regiments on the
field of Rocroy, would complete their subjugation on the plains of
Lens. Thus the first victory was the pledge of many more. The
Prince bends the knee, and on the battle-field renders back to
the God of armies the glory which He had conferred. There
they celebrated Rocroy delivered, the threatenings of a formidable
army turned to shame, the regency established, France in repose,
and a reign, destined to such prosperity, begun by an omen so
happy. The army commenced the thanksgiving: all France followed. The first achievement of the Duke d'Enghien was extolled
to the skies. Such an event was enough to render illustrious any
other life; but in his case, it was but the first step in his career.
From that first campaign, after the taking of Thionville, noble
fruit of the victory at Rocroy, he passed for a general equally invincible in sieges and battles. But observe in this young Prince what
is not less beautiful than victory. The court, which had prepared
for him the applause which he merited, was astonished at the manner in which he received it. The queen-regent testified to him that
the king was satisfied with his services. In the mouth of the sovereign, that was a recompense worthy of his toils. But if others
ventured to praise him, he rejected their praises as offensive. Intractable to flattery, he dreaded its very appearance. Such was the
delicacy, or rather such was the good sense of the Prince. His maxim
was-and you will please to notice it, for it is the maxim which
makes great men —that in great actions our only care ought to be to
perform well our part, and let glory follow virtue. This he inspired
in others, this he followed himself, so that he was never tempted by
false glory; every thing in him tended to the true and the great,
Whence it followed that he placed his glory in the service of the
king and the prosperity of the stat;}. This was the fundamental
principle of his life-this engrossed his last and most cherished
feelings. The court could scarcely hold him, though he was the
object of its admiration. He must show himself every where, to
Germany as to Flanders, the intrepid defender given us by God.




28             J4MES BENIGN] BOSSUET.
ilere direct your special attention! A contest awaits the Prince
more formidable than Rocroy: to prove his virtue, war is about to
exhaust all its inventions, all its efforts. What object presents itself
to my eyes? Not only men to combat, but inaccessible mountains,
ravines, and precipices on one side; on the other an impenetrable
wood, the bottom of which is a marsh; behind, streams and prodigious intrenchments; every where lofty forts, and leveled forests
traversed by frightful roads; in the midst Merci with his brave
Bavarians, flushed with such distinguished success, and the taking
of Fribourg;-Merci, whom the Prince of Conde and the vigilant
Turenne had never surprised in an irregular movement, and to
whom they rendered the distinguished testimony that he never lost
a favorable opportunity, and never failed to foresee their plans, as
if he had assisted at their councils. Here, during eight days, and in
four different attacks, was seen all that could be endured and under.
taken in war. Our troops seemed disheartened as much by the resistance of the enemy as by the frightful disposition of the ground;
and the Prince at times saw himself almost abandoned. But like
another Maccabeus, " his own arm never failed him;" and his cour.
age, excited by so many perils, "brought him succor." No sooner
was he seen the first to force those- inaccessible heights, than his
ardor drew all others after him. Merci sees his destruction certain:
his best regiments are defeated; the night saves the remains of his
army. But what excessive rains also come to the enemy's aid, so
that we have at once not only courage and art, but all nature to
contend with; what advantage of this is taken by a bold and dexterous enemy, and in what frightful mountain does he anew intrench
himself I But, beaten on all sides, he must leave, as booty to the
Duke d'Enghien, not only his cannon and baggage, but also all the
regions bordering on the Rhine. See how the whole gives way. In
ten days Philisbourg is reduced, notwithstanding the approach of
winter, Philisbourg, which so long held the Rhine captive under our
laws, and whose loss the most illustrious of kings has so gloriously
repaired. Worms, Spire, Mayence, Landau, and twenty other places
of note open their gates. Merci can not defend them, and no longer
appears before his conqueror. But this is not enough; he must fall
at his feet, a victim worthy of his valor: Nordlingen shall see his
fall;-then shall it be decided that their enemies can not stand before the French, either in Germany or Flanders; and there shall it
be seen, that to the Prince all these advantages are due. God, the
Protector of France and of a king, whom He has destined for His
mighty works, ordains it thus.




FUNERAL ORATION.                        29
By such arrangements, every thing appeared safe under the ooun
duct of the Duke d'Enghien; and without wishing to spend the day
m recounting his other exploits, you know that among so many
places attacked not one escaped his hands; and thus the glory of the
Prince continued to rise. Europe, which admired the noble ardor
by which he was animated in his battles, was astonished to perceive
that he had perfect self-control; and that at the age of twenty-six
years, he was as capable of managing his troops, as of urging them
into perils; of yielding to fortune, as of causing it to subserve his
designs. In all situations he appears to us one of those extraordinary men who force all obstacles. The promptitude of his action
leaves no time for its contravention. Such is the character of conquerors. When David, himself a great warrior, deplored the death
of two captains, he gave them this eulogy: " They were swifter
than eagles, they were stronger than lions." Such is the very image
of the Prince whom we deplore. Like lightning, he appeared at
the same time in different and distant places. Hle was seen in all at
tacks, in all quarters. When occupied on one side, he sends to re
connoitre the other; the active officer who conveys his orders is anticipated, and finds all reanimated by the presence of the Prince.
He seems to multiply himself in action; neither fire nor steel arrests
his progress. No need has he to arm his head exposed to so many
perils; God is his assured armor; blows lose their force as they
reach him, and leaves behind only the tokens of his courage and. of
the protection of Heaven. Tell him not that the life of the first
Prince of the blood, so necessary to the state, ought to be spared;
he answers that such a Prince, more interested by his birth in'the
glory of the king and crown, ought, in the extremity of the state,
more readily than all others to devote himself to its recovery. After
having made his enemies, during so many years, feel the invincible
power of the king; were it asked, What did he do to sustain it at
heme?  I would answer, in a word, he made the Regent respected.*
And since it is proper for me once for all, to speak of those things
respecting which I desire to be forever silent,t it may be stated, that
up to the time of that unfortunate imprisonment, he had never
dreamed that it was possible for him to attempt any thing against
the state; and to his honor be it said, if he desired to secure a recompense, he desired still more to merit it. It was this which caused
him to say-and here I can confidently repeat his words, which I re* The Queen-Mother, who was regent during the minority of Louis XIV.
t Bossuet h ire refers to the part taken by the Prince of Cond6 in the civil war of the
7raade.




SO             JAMES BENIGNk BOSSUtET.
oeived from his own lips, and which so strikingly indicate his true
disposition-that " he had entered that prison the most innocent of
men, and that he had issued from it the most culpable. Alas I" said
he, " I lived only for the service of the king, and the honor of the
state." Words which indicate a sincere regret for having been carried so far by his misfortunes. But without excusing what he himself so strongly condemned, let us say, so that it may never again be
mentioned, that as in celestial glory, the faults of holy penitents,
covered by what they have done to repair them, and the infinite
compassion of God, never more appear; so in the faults so sincerely
acknowledged, and in the end so gloriously repaired by faithful services, nothing ought to be remembered but the penitence of the
Prince, and the clemency of his sovereign who has forgotten them.
However much he was involved in those unfortunate wars, he
has at least this glory, never to have permitted the grandeur of his
House to be tarnished among strangers. Notwithstanding the
majesty of the Empire, the pride of Austria, and the hereditary
crowns attached to that House, particularly in the branch which reigns
in Germany; even when a refugee at Namur, and sustained only by
his courage and reputation, he urged the claims of a Prince of France
and of the first family in the world so far that all that could be obtained from him was his consent to treat upon equality with the
Archduke, through a brother of the Emperor, and the descendant
of so many Emperors, on condition that the Prince in the third degree, should wear the honors of the " Low Countries." The same
treatment was secured to the Duke d'Enghien; and the House of
France maintained its rank over that of Austria even in Brussels.
But mark what constitutes true courage. While the Prince bore
himself so loftily with the Archduke who governed, he rendered to
the King of England and the Duke of York, now so great a monarch,
but then unfortunate, all the honors which were their due; and
finally he taught Spain, too disdainful, what that majesty was which
misfortune could not tear from princes. The rest of his conduct
was not less distinguished. Amid the difficulties which his interests
introduced into the Treaty of the Pyrenees, hear what were his
orders, and see whether any one ever acted so nobly, with reference
to his own interests. He wrote to his agents in the conference, that
it was not right that the peace of Christendom should be postponed
for his sake; that they might take care of his friends, but must
leave him to his fate. Ah, what a noble victim thus sacrificed himself for the public good! But when things changed, and Spain was
willing to give him either Cambray and its environs, or Luxembourg




FUNERAL ORATION.                        31
in full sovereignty; he declared that to these advantages, and all others,
however great, which they could give him, he preferred-what?
Iis duty and the good will of the king! This formed the ruling
passion of his heart. This he was incessantly repeating to the Duke
d'Enghien, his son. Thus did he appear himself!  France beheld
him, in these last traits, returning to her bosom with a character ennobled by suffering, and more than ever devoted to his king and
country. But in those first wars he had but one life to offer; now
he has another which is dearer to him than his own. After having,
under his father's example, nobly finished his studies, the Duke
d'Enghien is ready to follow him to the battle-field. Not content
with teaching him the art of war by his instructions, he conducts
him to living lessons and actual practice. Leave we the passage of
the Rhine, the wonder of our age, and the life of Louis the Great.
In the field of Senef, although he commanded, as he had already
done in other campaigns, he learned war by the side of his father, in
the most terrible conflicts. In the midst of so many perils, he sees
the Prince thrown down in a trench, under a horse covered with
blood. While offering him his own and raising him from the trench,
he is wounded in the arms of his affectionate father, but without discontinuing his kind offices, delighted with the opportunity of satisfying at once his filial piety and love of glory. How could the
Prince fail to think that nothing was wanting to that noble son but
opportunities, to achieve the greatest things. Moreover his tenderness increased with his esteem.
But not only for his son and his family did he cherish such tender sentiments. I have seen him (and do not imagine that I exaggerate here) deeply moved with the perils of his friends; I have
seen him, simple and natural, change color at the recital of their misfortunes, entering into their minutest as well as most important
affairs, reconciling contending parties, and calming angry spirits.
with a patience and gentleness which could never have been expected
from a temper so sensitive, and a rank so high. Far from us be
heroes without humanity! As in the case of all extraordinary
things, they might force our respect and seduce our admiration, but
they could never win our love. When God formed the heart of
man He planted goodness there, as the proper characteristic of the
Divine nature, and the mark of that beneficent hand from which we
sprang. Goodness, then, ought to be the principal element of our
character, and the great means of attracting the affection of others.
Greatness, which supervenes upon this, so far from  diminishing
goodness, ought only to enable it, like a public fountain, to diffuse




32             JAMES BENIGNP BOSSUET.
itself more extensively. This is the price of hearts I For the great,
whose goodness is not diffusive, as a just punishment of their haughty
indifference, remain forever deprived of the greatest good of life, the
fellowship of kindred souls. Never did man enjoy this more than
the Prince of whom we are speaking. Never did one less fear that
familiarity would diminish respect. Is this the man that stormed
cities and gained battles? Have I forgotten the high rank he knew
so well to defend. Let us acknowledge the hero, who, always equal
to himself, without rising to appear great, or descending to be civil
and kind, naturally appeared every thing that he ought to be toward
all men, like a majestic and beneficent river, which peacefully conveys from city to city, the abundance which it has spread through
the countries which it waters; which flows for the benefit of all, and
rises and swells only when some violent opposition is made to the
gentle current which bears it on its tranquil course. Such was the
gentleness and such the energy of the Prince of Conde. Have you
an important secret? Confide it freely to that noble heart; your
affair becomes his by that confidence. Nothing was more inviolable
to that Prince than the rights of friendship. When a favor was
asked of him, it was he that appeared obliged; and never was his
joy so natural or lively, as when he conferred pleasure upon others.
The first money which, by the permission of the king, he received
from Spain, notwithstanding the necessities of his exhausted house,
was given to his friends, although he had nothing to hope from their
friendship after the peace. Four hundred thousand crowns, distributed by his orders-rare instance of generosity —showed that gratitude was as powerful in the Prince of Cond6 as selfishness is in most
men. With him virtue was ever its own reward. He praised it
even in his enemies. Whenever he had occasion to speak of his
actions, and even in the communications which he sent to the court,
he extolled the wise counsels of one, and the courage of another;
the merits of none were overlooked; and in his anxiety to do others
justice he never seemed to find a place for what he had done himself. Without envy, without disguise or pretension; equally great
in action and in repose, he appeared at Chantilly as he did at the
head of his troops. Whether he embellished that magnificent and
charming home, whether he planted his camp, or fortified a place in
the midst of a hostile country-whether he marched with an army
amid perils, or conducted his friends through superb alleys to the
noise of falling fountains silent neither by day nor night, he was
always the same man; his glory followed him every where. How
delightful, after the contest and tumult of arms, to be able to relish




FUNERAL ORATION.                       33
tkose peaceful virtues, and that tranquil glory which none can share
with the soldier more than with fortune; where one can pursue Xte
great end of life without being stunned with the noise of trumpets,
the roar of cannons, or the cries of the wounded; and when all
alone, man appears as great, and as worthy of respect as when he
gives the word of command, and whole armies do his bidding.
Let us now look at the qualities of his intellect; and since, alas!
that which is most fatal to human life, namely, the military art,
admits of the greatest genius and talent, let us in the first place consider the great genius of the Prince with reference to that department. And in the first place what general ever displayed such farreaching foresight? One of his maxims was, that we ought to fear
enemies at a distance, in order not to fear them near at hand-nay
more, to rejoice in their approach. See, as he considers all the
advantages which he can give or take, with what rapidity he comprehends times, places, persons, and not only their interests and talents, but even their humors and caprices! See how he estimates
the cavalry and infantry of his enemies, by the nature of the country,
or the resources of the confederated princes! Nothing escapes his
penetration. With what prodigious comprehension of the entire
details and general plan of the war, he is ever awake to the occurrence of the slightest incident; drawing from a deserter, a prisoner,
a passer-by, what he wishes him to say or to conceal. what he knows,
and, so to speak, what he does not know, so certain is he in his conclusions. His patrols repeat to him the slightest things: he is ever
on the watch, for he holds it as a maxim, that an able general may
be vanquished, but ought never to suffer himself to be surprised.
And it is due to him to say that this never occurred in his case. At
whatever, or from whatever quarter his enemies come, they find him
on his guard, always ready to fall upon them, and take advantage
of their position; like an eagle, which, whether soaring in mid air,
or perched upon the summit of some lofty rock, sweeps the landscape with his piercing eyes, and falls so surely upon his prey, that;
it can neither escape his talons, nor his lightning glance. So keen
his perception, so quick and impetuous his attack, so strong and irresistible the hands of the Prince of Cond6. In his camp vain terrors,
which fatigue and discourage more than real ones, are unknown.
All strength remains entire for true perils; all is ready at the first
signal, and as saith the prophet, "All arrows are sharpened, all bows
bent." While waiting, he enjoys as sound repose as he would under
his own roof. Repose, did I say? At Pieton, in the presence of
that formidable army which three united powers had assembled, our
3




84              JAMES BENIGNP BOSSUET.
troops indulged in constant amusements, the wh(le army was rejoicing, and never for a moment felt that it was weaker than the enemy.
The Prince, by the disposition of his army, had put in safety, not
only our whole frontier, and all our stations, but also our soldiers;
he watches-that is enough! At last the enemy moves off-precisely what the Prince expected. At their first movement he
starts; the army of Holland, with its proud standards, is already
in his power-blood flows every where —the whole becomes his
prey. But God knows how to limit the best formed plans. The
enemy is every where scattered. Oudenarde is delivered out of
their hands; but they themselves are saved out of those of the
Prince by a dense cloud, which covers the heavens; terror and
desertion enter the troops; none can tell what has become of that
formidable army. Then it was that Louis, after having accomplished
the rude siege of Besan9on, and once more reduced Franche Comte,
with unparalleled rapidity, returned, irradiated with glory, to profit
by the action of his armies in Flanders and Germany, and commanded the army which performed such prodigies in Alsace; thus
appearing the greatest of heroes, as much by his personal exploits, as
by those of his generals.
While a happy disposition imparted such noble traits to our
Prince, he never ceased to enrich it by reflection. The campaigns
of Csesar formed the subject of his study. Well do I recollect how
much he interested us by indicating, with all the precision of a catalogue, the place where that celebrated general, by the advantageous
nature of his positions, compelled five Roman legions, and two experienced leaders, to lay down their arms without a struggle. He
himself had explored the rivers and mountains which aided in the
accomplishment of that grand result; and never before had so
accomplished a teacher explained the Commentaries of Caesar. The
generals of a future age will render him the same homage. They
will be seen studying in the places where it took place, what history
will relate of the encampment of Pieton, and the wonders that followed. They will notice, in that of Chatenoy, the eminence occu
pied by that great captain, and the stream where he covered himself
from the cannon of the intrenchments of Selestad. Then will they
see him putting Germany;to shame-now pursuing his enemies,
though stronger; now counteracting their schemes; and now caus.
ing them to raise the siege of Saverne, as he had that of Haguenau,
a little while before. It was by strokes like these, of which his life
is full, that he carried his fame to such a height that in the present
day it is one of the highest honors to have served in the army of the




FUNERAL ORATION.                       85
Prince of Conde, and even a title to command to have seen him per.
form that duty.
But if ever he appeared great, and by his wondrous self-possession, superior to all exigencies, it was in those critical moments upon
which victory turns, and in the deepest ardor of battle. In all other
circumstances he deliberates-docile, he lends an ear to the counsels
of all; but here every thing is presented to him at once; the multiplicity of objects confounds him not; in an instant his part is taken;
he commands, he acts together; every thing is made to subserve his
purpose. Shall I add, for why fear the reputation of so great a man
should be diminished by the acknowledgment, that he was distinguished not only by his quick sallies which he knew so promptly
and agreeably to repair, but that he sometimes appeared, on ordinary
occasions, as if he had in him another nature, to which his great soul
abandoned minor details, in which he himself deigned not to mingle.
In the fire, the shock, the confusion of battle, all at once sprung up
in him-I know not what firmness and clearness, what ardor and
grace —so attractive to his friends, so terrible to his enemies-a combination of qualities and contrasts, at once singular and striking. In
that terrible engagement, when before the gates of the city, and in
the sight of the citizens, Heaven seemed to decide the fate of the
Prince; when he had against him choice troops and a powerful general-when, more than once, he saw himself exposed to the caprices
of fortune-when, in a word, he was attacked on every side, those
who were fighting near him have told us that if they had an affair
of importance to transact with him, they would have chosen for it
that very moment when the fires of battle were raging around him;
so much did his spirit appear elevated above them, and, as it were,
inspired in such terrible encounters; like those lofty mountains,
whose summits, rising above clouds and storms, find their serenity
in their elevation, and lose not a single ray of the light by which
they are enveloped. Thus on the plains of Lens, name agreeable to
France I the Archduke, drawn contrary to his design from an advantageous position, throa, h the influence of a false success, is forced,
by a sudden movement of the Prince, who opposes fresh troops to
those already exhausted, to take flight. His veteran troops perish;
his cannon, which he relied on, falls into our hands; and Bek, who
had flattered himself with certain victory, taken and wounded in the
battle, renders, by his dying despair, a mournful homage to his conqueror. Is it necessary to relieve or besiege a city? The Prince
knows how to profit by every opportunity. Thus, being suddenly
informed of an important siege, he passes at once, by a rapid march.




36             JAMES BENIGNt BOSSUET.
to the place, and discovers a safe passage through which to give
relief, at a spot not sufficiently fortified by the enemy. Does he lay
siege to a place? Each day he invents some new means of advancing its conquest. Some have thought that he exposed his troops;
but he protected them by abridging the time of peril through the
vigor of his attacks. Amid so many surprising blows the most
courageous governors can not make good their promises to their
generals. Dunkirk is taken in thirteen days amid the rains of
autumn; and those ships, so renowned among our allies, all at once
appear upon the ocean with our flags.
But what a wise general ought especially to know, is his soldiers
and officers. For thence comes that perfect concert which enables
armies to act as one body, or to use the language of Scripture, " as
one man." But how as one man? Because under one chief, that
knows both soldiers and officers, as if they were his arms and hands,
all is equally animated, all is equally moved. This it is which secures victory; for I have heard our great Prince say that, in the
battle of Nordlingen, what gained success was his knowledge of M.
de Turenne, whose consummate genius needed no order to perform
whatever was necessary. The latter, on his side, declared that he
acted without anxiety, because he knew the Prince, and his directions
which were always safe. Thus they imparted to each other a mutual confidence which enabled them to apply themselves wholly to
their respective parts; and thus happily ended the most hazardous
and keenly contested battle that was ever fought!
That was a noble spectacle in our day to behold, at the same
time, and in the same campaign, these two men, whom the common
voice of all Europe equaled to the greatest generals of past ages —
now at the head of separate troops, now united, yet more by the
concurrence of the same thoughts, than by the orders which the inferior received from the other; now opposed front to front, and redoubling the one in the other activity and vigilance; —as if the Deity,
whose wisdom, according to the Scriptures, disports itself in the universe, would show us under what perfect 2crmo, and with what
excellent qualities He can endow men. What encampments and
what marches I what hazards and precautions I what perils and resources I Were ever in two men seen the same virtues, with such
diverse not to say contrary characteristics I The one seemed to act
from profound reflection; the other from sudden illumination; the
latter consequently was more ardent, though by no means precipitate, while the former, with an appearance of greater coolness, never
exhibited any thing like languor-ever more ready to act than to




FUNERAL ORATION.                         37
speak, resolute and determined within, even when he seemed hesitating and cautious without. The one, as soon as he appeared in the
army, gave a high idea of his valor, and caused an expectation of
something extraordinary; nevertheless he advanced systematically,
and by degrees reached the prodigies which crowned his life; the
other, like a man inspired, from his first battle equaled the most
consummate masters. The one by his rapid and constant efforts
won the admiration of the world, and silenced all envy; the other,
at the very first, reflected such a vivid light that none dared to
attack him. The one, in fine, by the depth of his genius and the
incredible resources of his courage, rose superior to the greatest
dangers, and profited even by the infelicities of fortune; the other, at
once by the advantages of his elevated birth, and the lofty thoughts
by which he was inspired from heaven, and especially by an admirable instinct of which men know not the secret, seemed born to
draw fortune into his plans, and to force destiny itself. And as in
their life, those great men were seen distinguished by diverse characteristics, so the one, cut down by a sudden blow, like a Judas Maccabeus, dies for his country; the army mourns him as a father; the
court and country are covered with tears; his piety is praised with
his courage, and his memory fades not with time;* the other, raised,
like a David, by his arms to the summit of glory, like him also dies
in his bed, celebrating the praises of God and giving instructions to
his family, and thus leave all hearts filled as much with the splendor
of his life as the serenity of his death. What a privilege to see and
to study these great men, and learn from each the esteem which the
other merits. This has been the spectacle of our age; but what is
greater still, we have seen a king making use of these great generals,
and enjoying the succor of heaven; and being deprived of the one
by death, anid of the other by his maladies, conceiving the greatest
plans, and performing the noblest deeds, rising above himself, surpassing the hopes of his friends and the expectations of the world;
so lofty is his courage, so vast his intelligence, so glorious his destiny.t
Such, messieurs, are the spectacles which God gives to the world,.
and the men whom He sends into it, to illustrate, now in one nation,
now in another, according to IIis eternal counsels, His power and,
His wisdom. For, do His Divine attributes discover themselves Inore
clearly in the heavens which His fingers have formed, than in therare talents which He has distributed, as it pleases Him, to extraordinary men? What star shines more brilliantly in the firnmamrent,
* Turenne was cut in two by a cannon ball.
t This adulation of Louis XIV. will be taken at what it is worth.




38              JAMES BENIGNP BOSSUET.
than the Prince de Conde has done in Europe?  Not war alone
gave him renown; but his resplendent genius which embraced every
thing, ancient as well as modern, history, philosophy, theology the
most sublime the arts and the sciences. None possessed a book
which he had not read; no man of excellence existed, with whom
he had not, in some speculation or in some work, conversed; all left
him instructed by his penetrating questions or judicious reflections.
His conversation too, had a charm, because he knew how to speak
to every one according to his talents; not merely to warriors on their
enterprises, to courtiers on their interests, to politicians on their negotiations, but even to curious travelers on their discoveries in nature, government or commerce; to the artisan on his inventions, and
in fine to the learned of all sorts, on their productions. That gifts
like these come from God, who can doubt? That they are worthy
of admiration, who does not see? But to confound the human spirit
which prides itself upon these gifts, God hesitates not to confer them
upon His enemies. St. Augustin considers among the heathen, so
many sages, so many conquerors, so many grave legislators, so many
excellent citizens-a Socrates, a Marcus Aurelius, a Scipio, a Caesar,
an Alexander, all deprived of the knowledge of God, and excluded
from His eternal kingdom. Is it not God then who has made them?
Who else could do so but He who made every thing in heaven, and
in the earth? But why has He done so? what in this case are the
particular designs of that infinite wisdom which makes nothing in
vain7  Hear the response of St. Augustin. "He has made them,"
says he, "that they might adorn the present world."  He has made
the rare qualities of those great men, as He made the sun. Who
admires not that splendid luminary; who is not ravished with his midday radiance, and th v gorgeous beauty of his rising or decline? But as
God has made it to shine upon the evil and upon the good, such an
object, beautiful as it is, can not render us happy; God has made it to
embellish and illumine this great theater of the universe. So also when
He has made, in His enemies as well as in His servants, those beautiful
lights of the mind, those rays of His intelligence, those images of His
goodness; it is not that these alone can secure our happiness. They
are but a decoration of the universe, an ornament of the age. See
moreover the melancholy destiny of those men who are chosen to be
the ornaments of their age. What do such rare men desire but the praise
and the glory which men can give? God, perhaps to confound them
will refuse that glory to their vain desires! No: —He confounds
them rather by giving it to them, and even beyond their expectation.
That Alexander who desired only to make a noise in the world, has




FUNERAL ORATION.                        39
made it even more than he dared to hope. Thus he must find hirmself in all our panegyrics, and, by a species of glorious fatality, so
to speak, partake of all the praises conferred upon every prince. If
the great actions of the Romans required a recompense, God knows
how to bestow one correspondent to their merits as well as their desires. For a recompense He gives them the empire of the world, as
a thing of no value. 0 kings! humble yourselves in your greatness: conquerors, boast not your victories! He gives them, for
recompense, the glory of men; a recompense which never reaches
them; a recompense which we endeavor to attach to-what? Tc
their medals or their statues disinterred from the dust, the refuse of
years and barbarian violence; to the ruins of their monuments and
works, which contend with time, or rather to their idea, their
shadow, or what they call their;ame I Such is the glorious prize
of all their labors; such, in the Avery attainment of their wishes, is
the conviction of their error!. Come, satisfy yourselves, ye great
men of earth! Grasp, if you can, that phantom of glory, after the
example of the great men whom ye admire. God who punishes
their pride in the regions of despair, envies them not, as St. Augustin says, that glory so much desired: "vain, they have received a
recompense as vain as their desires."
But not thus shall it be with our illustrious Prince. The hour
of God is come; hour anticipated, hour desired, hour of mercy and
of grace. Without being alarmed by disease, or pressed by time,
He executes what He designed. A judicious ecclesiastic, whom he
had expressly called, performs for him the offices of religion; he
listens, humble Christian, to his instructions; indeed, no one ever
doubted his good faith. From that time he is seen seriously occupied with the care of vanquishing himself; rising superior to his
insupportable pains, making, by his submission, a constant sacrifice. God, whom he invoked by faith, gave him a relish for the
Scriptures; and in that Divine Book, he found the substantial nurture of piety. His counsels were more and more regulated by justice; he solaced the widow and orphan, the poor approached him
with confidence. A serious as well as an affectionate father, in the
pleasant intercourse which he enjoyed with his children, he never
ceased to inspire them with sentiments of true virtue; and that
young prince, his grandchild, will forever feel himself indebted to
his training. His entire household profited by his example. * *
These, messieurs, these simple things-governing his family, edifying his domestics, doing justice and mercy, accomplishing the good
which God enjoins, and suffering the evils which He sends-these




40             JAMES BENIGN2 BOSSUET.
are the common practices of the Christian life which Jesus Christ
will applaud before His Father and the holy angels. But histories
will be destroyed with empires; no more will they speak of the
splendid deeds with which they are filled. While he passed his life
in such occupations, and carried beyond that of his most famous
actions the glory of a retreat so good and pious, the news of the
illness of the Duchess de Bourbon reached Chantilly,* like a clap
of thunder. Who was not afraid to see that rising light extinguished? It was apprehended that her condition was worse than
it proved. What, then, were the feelings of the Prince of Cond6,
when he saw himself threatened with the loss of that new tie of his
family to the person of the king? Was it on such an occasion that
the hero must die? Must he who had passed through so many
sieges and battles perish through h;s tenderness? Overwhelmed by
anxieties produced by so frightful a calamity, his heart, which sc
long sustained itself alone, yields to the blow; his strength is exhausted. If he forgets all his feebleness at the sight of the king
approaching the sick princess; if transported by his zeal, he runs,
without assistance, to avert the perils which that great king does
not fear, by preventing his approach, he falls exhausted before he
has taken four steps-a new and affecting way of exposing his life
for the king. Although the Duchess d'Enghien, a princess, whose
virtue never feared to perform her duty to her family and friends,
had obtained leave to remain with him, to solace him, she did not
succeed in assuaging his anxieties; and after the young princess
was beyond danger, the malady of the king caused new troubles to
the Prince. * * * The Prince of Conde grew weaker, but death
concealed his approach. When he seemed to be somewhat restored,
and the Duke d'Enghien, ever occupied between his duties as a son
and his duties as a subject, had returned by his order to the king,
in an instant all was changed, and his approaching death was announced to the Prince. Christians, give attention, and here learn
to die, or rather learn not to wait for the last hour, to begin to live
well. Whatl expect to commence a new life when, seized by the
freezing grasp of death, ye know not whether ye are among the living or the dead? Ah! prevent, by penitence, that hour of trouble
and darkness! Thus, without being surprised at that final sentence
communicated to him, the Prince remains for a moment in silence,
and then all at once exclaims  "Thou dost will it, O my God; Thy
will be done! Give me grace to die well I" What more could you
desire? In that brief prayer you see submission to the will of God,
* The residence of the Prince de Condd




FUNERAL ORATION.                        41
reliance on His providence, trust in His grace, and all devotion.
From that time, such as he had been in all combats, serene, self-possessed, and occupied without anxiety, only with what was necessary
to sustain them —such also he was in that last conflict. Death appeared to him no more frightful, pale and languishing, than amid
the fires of battle and in the prospect of victory. While sobbings
were heard all around him, he continued, as if another than himself
were their object, to give his orders; and if he forbade them weeping, it was not because it was a distress to him, but simply a hinderance.'At that time, he extended his cares to the least of his
domestics. With a liberality worthy of his birth and of their services, he loaded them with gifts, and honored them still more with
mementoes of his regard. * * * *
The manner in which he began to acquit himself of his religious duties, deserves to be recounted throughout the world; not because it was particularly remarkable; but rather because it was, so
to speak, not such; —for it seemed singular that a Prince so much
under the eye of the world, should furnish so little to spectators.
Do not then, expect those magniloquent words which serve to reveal, if not a concealed pride, at least an agitated soul, which combat or dissembles its secret trouble. The Prince of Conde knew
not how to utter such pompous sentences; in death, as in life, truth
ever formed his true grandeur. His confession was humble, full of
penitence and trust. He required no long time to prepare it; the
best preparation for such a confession is not to wait for it as a last
resort. But give attention to what follows. At the sight of the
holy Viaticum, which he so much desired, see how deeply he is
affected. Then he remembers the irreverence with which, alas! he
had sometimes dishonored that divine mystery. * G * Calling
to mind all the sins which he had committed, but too feeble to give
utterance to his intense feelings, he borrowed the voice of his confessor to ask pardon of the world, of his domestics, and of his friends.
They replied with their tears. Ah i reply ye now, profiting by that
example Il The other duties of religion were performed with the
same devotion and self-possession. With what faith and frequency
did he, kissing the cross, pray the Saviour of the world that His
blood, shed for Lim, might not prove in vain. This it is which
justifies the sinntr, which sustains the righteous, which reassures
the Christianl  *  *  *  Three times did he cause the prayers for
those in anguish to be repeated, and ever with renewed consolation.
In thanking his physicians, "See," said he, "my true Physicians,"
pointing to the ecclesiastics to whose teachings he had listened, and




42              JAMES BENIGNt BOSSUET.
in whose prayers he joined. The Psalms were always upon his lips,
and formed the joy of his heart. If he complained, it was only
that he suffered so little in reparation for his sins. Sensible to the
last of the tenderness of his friends, he never permitted himself to
be overcome by it; on the contrary, he was afraid of yielding too
much to nature. What shall I say of his last interview with the
Duke d'Enghien?  What colors are vivid enough to represent to
you the constancy of the father, the extreme grief of the son?
Bathed in tears, his voice choked with sobs, he clasps his dying
father, then falls back, then again rushes into his arms, as if by such
means he would retain that dear object of his affection; his strength
gives way, and he falls at his feet. The Prince, without being
moved, waits for his recovery; then calling the Duchess, his daugh
ter-in-law, whom he also sees speechless, and almost without life,
with a tenderness in which nothing of weakness is visible, he gives
them his last commands, all of which are instinct with piety. He
closes with those prayers which God ever hears, like Jacob, invoking a blessing upon them, and upon each of their children in particular. Nor shall I forget thee, O Prince, his dear nephew, nor the
glorious testimony which he constantly tendered to your merit, nor
his tender zeal on your behalf, nor the letter which he wrote, when
dying, to reinstate you in the favor of the king-the dearest object
of your wishes-nor the noble qualities which made you worthy to
occupy, with so much interest, the last hours of so good a life. Nor
shall I forget the goodness of the king, which anticipated the desires of the dying Prince; nor the generous cares of the Duke
d'Enghien, who promoted that favor, nor the satisfaction which he
felt in fulfilling the wishes of his dying father. While his heart is
expanded, and his voice animated in praising the king, the Prince
de Conti arrives, penetrated with gratitude and grief. His sympathies are renewed afresh; and the two Princes hear what they will
never permit to escape from their heart. The Prince concludes, by
assuring them that they could never be great men, nor great princes,
nor honorable persons, except so far as they possessed real goodness,
and were faithful to God and the king. These were the last words
which he left engraven on their memory —this was the last token of
his affection-the epitome of their duties.
All were in tears, and weeping aloud The Prince alone was
unmoved; trouble came not into that asylum where he had cast
himself. 0 God, Thou wert his strength and his refuge, and as
David says, the immovable rock upon which he placed his confi.
dence. *  *  *  *  *  Tranquil in thearmsofhis God, he waited
for his salvation, and implored His support, until he finally ceased




FUNERAL ORATION.                       43
to breathe. And here our lamentations ought to break f rth at the
loss of so great a man. But for the love of the truth, and the shame
of those who despise it, listen once more to that noble testimony
which he bore to it in dying. Informed by his confessor that if oui
heart is not entirely right with God, we must, in our addresses, ask
God Himself to make it such as He pleases, and address Him in the
affecting language of David, "O God, create in rme a clean heart."
Arrested by these words, the Prince pauses, as if occupied with some
great thought; then calling the ecclesiastic who had suggested the
idea, he says: "I have never doubted the mysteries of religion, as
some have reported." Christians, you ought to believe him; for in
the state he then was, he owed to the world nothing but truth.
" But," added he, "I doubt them less than ever. May these truths,"
he continued, " reveal and develop themselves more and more clearly
in my mind. Yes I" says he, "we shall see God as He is, face to
face I" With a wonderful relish he repeated in Latin those lofty
words-" As He is-face to face!"  Nor could those around him
grow weary of seeing him in so sweet a transport. What was then
taking place in that soul?  What new light dawned upon him?
What sudden ray pierced the cloud, and instantly dissipated, not
only all the darkness of sense, but the very shadows, and if I dare
to say it, the sacred obscurities of faith? What then became of
those splendid titles by which our pride is flattered. On the very
verge of glory, and in the dawning of a light so beautiful, how
rapidly vanish the phantoms of the world! How dim appears the
splendor of the most glorious victory! How profoundly we despise
the glory of the world, and how deeply regret that our eyes were
ever dazzled by its radiance. Come, ye people, come now-or rather
ye Princes and Lords, ye judges of the earth, and ye who open to
man the portals of heaven; and more than all others, ye Princes and
Princesses, nobles descended from a long line of kings, lights of
France, but to-day in gloom, and covered with your grief, as with a
cloud, come and see how little remains of a birth so august, a grandeur so high, a glory so dazzling. Look around on all sides, and
see all that magnificence and devotion can do to honor so great a
hero; titles and inscriptions, vain signs of that which is no moreshadows which weep around a tomb, fragile images of a grief which
time sweeps away with every thing else; columns which appear as
if they would bear to heaven the magnificent evidence of our emptiness; nothing, indeed, is wanting in all these honors but he to whom
they are rendered I Weep then over these feeble remains of human
life; weep over that mournful immortality we give to heroes. But
draw near especially ye who run, with such ardor, the career of




44             JAMES BENIGNt BOSSUET.
glory, intrepid and warrior spirits I Who was more worthy to corn
mand you, and in whom did ye find command more honorable?
Mourn then that great Captain, and weeping, say: " Here is the
man that led us through all hazards, under whom were formed sc
many renowned captains, raised by his example, to the highest hon.
ors of war; his shadow might yet gain battles, and lo I in his silence,
fis very name animates us, and at the same time warns us, that to
find, at death, some rest from our toils, and not arrive unprepared at
our eternal dwelling, we must, with an earthly king, yet serve the
King of Heaven." Serve then that immortal and ever merciful
King, who will value a sigh or a cup of cold water, given in His
name, more than all others will value the shedding of your blood.
And begin to reckon the time of your useful services from the day
on which you gave yourselves to so beneficent a Master. Will not
ye too come, ye whom he honored by making you his friends? To
whatever extent you enjoyed his confidence, come all of you, and
surround this tomb. Mingle your prayers with your tears; and
while admiring, in so great a prince, a friendship so excellent, an intercourse so sweet, preserve the remembrance of a hero whose goodness equaled his courage. Thus may he ever prove your cherished
instructor; thus may you profit by his virtues; and may his death,
which you deplore, serve you at once for consolation and example.
For myself, if permitted, after all others, to render the last offices
at this tomb, 0 prince, the worthy subject of our praises and regrets, thou wilt live forever in my memory. There will thy image
be traced, but not with that bold aspect which promises victory. No,
I would see in you nothing which death can efface. You will have
in that image only immortal traits. I shall behold you such as you
were in your last hours under the hand of God, when His glory began to dawn upon you. There shall I see you more triumphant
than at Fribourg and at Rocroy; and ravished by so glorious a triumph, I shall give thanks in the beautiful words of the well-beloved
disciple, "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our
faith." Enjoy, 0 prince, this victory, enjoy it forever, through the
everlasting efficacy of that sacrifice.*  Accept these last efforts of a
voice once familiar to you. With you these discourses shall end.
Instead of deploring the death of others, great prince, I would henceforth learn from you to render my own holy; happy, if reminded
by these white locks of the account which I must give of my ministry; I reserve for the flock, which I have to feed with the word of
life, the remnants of a voice which falters, and an ardor which is
fading away.
* The sacrifice of the mass, which concluded the funeral ceremony.




DISCOURSE FORTY.SEVENT[
ILOUIS BOURDALOUE.
THiE "Reformer of the French Pulpit," as Bourdaloue has been
justly called, was born at Bourges, in the year 1632, and at the age of iff.
teen years entered the Community of the Jesuits, of whose disposition,
however, he did not seem to partake. Eighteen years were then passed
in study, and in teaching Philosophy and Theology, after which he gave
himself wholly to preaching. His bold and original style of eloquence
excited universal surprise and admiration; and he was early called to
Paris, where, for upward of thirty years, his popularity was undiminished. He departed this life, May 13th, 1704, having continued his
labors until within two days of his death.
Bourdaloue seems to have been superior to his creed, though he
lived and died in the Catholic Faith. His piety is not called in question;
and it has been said of him, "If he won the applause of the great, he
hung it as a garland upon the cross of Christ." Most of his sermons
exhibit him in the light of a spiritual, warm, and edifying preacher.
As already intimated, Bourdaloue did much to improve the current
style of preaching, elevating it from the low harangue, and puerile doling out of monkish legends, to the position of dignity and manliness
which becomes the minister of Jesus Christ. His sermons are far more
argumentative than those of the other great orators of his time. Bossuet addressed the imagination; and Massillon, the heart; but Bourdaloue spoke to the understanding. The discourses of the latter, therefore, are more frigid, and excel in the power to convince by logical
argumentation.  But though wonderfully condensed, and exact, his
subtlest arguments are clothed in diction so beautiful, as to captivate
even the unthinking and unwilling. It was his remarkable custom to
pronounce his discourses with his eyes partially, if not wholly closed;
and yet such was the energy of his mind, and such the pathos of his
eloquence, that he roused the affections of his hearers, and penetrated
and melted their hearts. The sermons of Bourdaloue which possess the
greatest degree of excellence, are those upon the Passion of the Saviour, of which there are several. The best of these, by common con.
sent, is the one here given. As will be seen by the "Sire," with which
it opens, it was preached before the king.




46                 LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.' And there followed Him a great company of people, ald of women, which also
bewailed and lamented Him. But Jesus turning unto them, said,' Daughters of Jerm.
salem, weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves, and for your children.' "-LUTE, Xuii.
"'f 28.
Sire-is it then true that the passion of Jesus Christ,-of which
we celebrate to-day the august but sorrowful mystery, some idea of
which faith gives us,-is not the most touching object which can
occupy our minds and excite our grief? Is it true that our tears
can be more holily and more suitably employed than in weeping
over the death of the God-man; and that another duty more pressing and more necessary suspends, so to speak, the obligation which
so just a gratitude imposes upon us in another place, to sympathize
by sentiments of tenderness in the sufferings of our Divine Redeemer?  Never could we have supposed it, Christians; and yet it
is Jesus Christ who speaks to us; and who, as the last proof of His
love, the most generous and the most disinterested that ever existed,
iL His way to Calvary, where He must die for us, warns us not to
weep at His death, and to weep over every other thing rather than
His death.  "Weep not for Me, but weep for yourselves." St. Ambrose, delivering the funeral oration of the Emperor Valentine the
younger, in the presence of all the people of Milan, thought that he
had sufficiently executed his ministry, and had fully answered the
expectations of his auditors, when he exhorted them to confess by
the tribute of their tears, how much they were indebted to the memory of that incomparable Prince, who had exposed his life, and had,
as it were, immolated himself for them. But I, engaged to address
you in this discourse on the bloody death of the Saviour of men, I
behold myself reduced to the necessity of employing a language
widely different; since, instead of borrowing the words of St. Amorose, which seemed naturally to agree with my subject, I must, on
the contrary, say to you-Give not to this dying Redeemer tears
which He demands not from  you: the tears which you shed are
precious tears; do not waste them; they are required for a subject
more important than you imagine. Jesus Christ not only refuses to
accept of your tears for His death, but He even expressly forbids
them; because to weep for it might prevent you from weeping for
another evil, which much more nearly affects you, and which indeed
is more deplorable than even the death of the Son of God. I know
that all creatures are or seem sensible of it; that the sun is eclipsed,




THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.                  47
Chat the earth trembles, that the vail of the temple is ient, that the
rocks are torn asunder, that the tombs are opened, that the ashes of
the dead revive, that all nature is moved at it: man only is for once
freed from this duty; provided he acquits himself in a manner less
tender in appearance, but more solid in reality. Let us then leave
to the heavenly bodies and to the elements, or, if you will associate
with them, intelligent creatures, let us leave to the blessed angels
the care of honoring the funeral of Jesus Christ by the marks of
their sorrow; "these embassadors of peace," says Isaiah, "have wept
bitterly." But as for us, upon whom God has other designs, instead
of weeping for Jesus Christ, let us weep with Jesus Christ, let us
weep like Jesus Christ, let us weep for that which made Jesus Christ
weep: thus we shall consecrate our tears, and render them beneficial.
An evil greater in the idea of God than even the death of Christ;
an evil more worthy of being deplored than all that the only Son
of God has suffered; an evil to which our tears are more legitimately due than to the Passion of the God-man; you are too much
enlightened, Christians, not to comprehend at one glance, is sin.
There has never been among all created beings any thing but sin
which could predominate over the sufferings of Jesus Christ, and
justify the.words of this Saviour God, when He commands us with
as much propriety as affection, "Weep not for Me, but for yourselves." To obey, Christians, this commandment, which our divine
Master gives us, and to profit by such important advice, let us consider to-day the mystery of the holy. passion, only that we may
weep over the devastation of our sins; and let us not weep over
the devastation of our sins but in sight of the mystery of the
holy passion. Indeed, if Jesus Christ had suffered independently
of our sin, His passion, however severe it might be for Him, would
have nothing in it so frightful to us; and if our sin had no connection with the sufferings of Christ, exceedingly sinful as it is, it would
be less odious to us. It is then by sin that we must measure the
inestimable benefit of the Passion of the Son of God; and it is by
the inestimable benefit of the Passion of the Son of God that we
must measure the enormity of sin: of sin, I say-observe well these
three propositions which I advance, and which will divide this discourse-of sin, which was the essential cause of the Passion of Jesus
Christ; of sin, which is a continual renewal of the Passion of Jesus
Christ; in a word, of sin, which is the annihilation of all the fruits
of the Passion of Jesus Christ. In three sentences, the Passion of
Jesus Christ caused by sin; the Passion of Jesus Christ renewed by
sin; the Passion of Jesus Christ rendered useless and even preju



48                LOUIS BOURDALOUE
dicial by sin. Behold what it is that claims our tears and demands
our attention.
FIRST PART.-Consider the passion of Jesus Christ which was
caused by sin. Behold the two circumstances, and, as it were, the
two scenes, in which I am going to introduce this Mediator by excellence between God and man. The garden where He agonized, and
Calvary where He expired. The garden where He agonized; it is
there that I will show Him to you feeling all the bitterness of sin.
Calvary, where He expired; it is there that I will cause you to contemplate His person immolated for the satisfaction of sin. Is any
thing more requisite to constrain you and me to shed tears, not of a
vain and sterile compassion, but of an efficacious and holy compunction?  "Weep not for me, but for yourselves."  Apply yourselves, my dear hearers, and begin by the interior sorrows of Jesus
Christ, to learn what should be the subject of our sorrow.
Scarcely has He entered into the garden where He went to pray
when He falls into a profound grief. " He began to be sorrowful.'
The feeling is so keen that He can not conceal it: He declares it to
His disciples: " My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death."
Fear seizes Him, " He began to be sore amazed;" troubles overwhelm Him, " He began to be very heavy:" by the force of the conflict in Himself He already suffers a kind of agony beforehand, " He
was in an agony;" and by the violence of this combat He even sweats
blood: "And His sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling
down to the ground."  "What does all this signify," says St. Chrysostom, "in Him who was strength itself, and the apparent weaknesses of whom could be nothing but so many miracles of His
almighty love?  What does He fear? What troubles Him? Why
that depression in a soul which, besides enjoying the clearest vision
of God, was always laden with the pure joys of blessedness? Why
that internal war and that commotion of the passions in a mind incapable of being moved by any other springs than those of sovereign
reason?"  Ah! Christians, behold what we have well weighed in
our minds, and what we can not too well understand for our edification. For to say that the Saviour of the world is in an agony only
because He is about to die; that the sole ignominy of the cross, or the
rigor of the punishment prepared for Him, caused Him these agitations, these disgusts, these mortal fears, would not be to have a sufficiently high idea of the passions of His nature.: No, no, my brethren," resumes St. Chrysostom, " these are not the things about which
His great soul was troubled." The cross which Jesus Christ had




THE PASSION  OF JESUS CHRIST.                49
chosen as the instrument of our redemption did not appeal to Him
so terrible an object; that cross, which must be the foundation of
His glory, became not to Him an object of shame; the cup which
His Father had given Him, and which even on this account was so
precious to Him, was not that bitter cup of which He testified so
much horror, and which produced a sweat of blood from all the
pores of His body; these were not precisely the symptoms of the
mysterious baptism of His death. For, however bloody this baptism might be, He Himself had ardently desired it, He had sought it
with holy eagerness; He had said to His disciples, " I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished?" It was then some other thing than the presence of death
which troubled Him, which affrighted Him. And what? I have already told you, my dear hearers; but, Lord, to impress it deeply on
the minds and hearts of those who hear me, I want all the zeal with
which Thou wast consumed. What do I say? Sin is the only
thing opposed to God; the only evil capable of afflicting the Godman, and making this God of glory sorrow itself. Rise, then, Christians, above all human ideas, and conceive yet once this grand truth I
Behold the faithful exposition of it drawn from the fathers of the
Church, but above all from St. Augustin.
For while the chief priests and Pharisees took counsel together
against Jesus Christ, at the palace of Caiaphas, and while they prepared themselves to oppress Him by false accusations and supposititious crimes, Jesus Christ Himself in the garden, humbled and prostrate before His Father, considered Himself at the same time, without the loss of His innocence, laden with real crimes; and according
to the oracle of Isaiah, which was verified in the letter, " The Lord
laid upon Him the iniquities of us all." Then, in consequence of the
transfer which the Lord made of our iniquities to His adorable Son,
that just One who had never known sin, found Himself covered
with the sins of all nations, with the sins of all ages, with the sins
of all states and conditions. Yes, all the sacrileges which should
ever be committed, and which His infinite prescience made Him distinctly foresee, all the blasphemies which should be uttered against
heaven, all the abominations which should excite blushes from earth,
all the scandals which should break out in the world, all those monsters which hell should produce, and of which men should more
especially be the authors, came to torture Him in a crowd, and to
serve already as His executioners. Where do we learn this? from
Himself, the alone witness and judge of whatever He suffers in this
crue' agitation. For, according to the interpretation of St. Augustin,
4




50                 LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
it is personally of Jesus Christ that these words of the Psalmist
must be understood: "' The sorrows of death compassed Me, and the
floods of ungodly men made Me afraid."  It was, then, in the anticipation of this blessed, yet amtogether sorrowful moment, that Jere.
miah, as a prophet, had a right to say to Jesus Christ, " For Thy
breach is great like the sea." Ah! Lord, Thy sorrow is as a vast
sea of which we can not sound the bottom, nor measure the immnensity I It was to increase and swell this sea that all the sins of
men, as the Scripture expresses it, rushed like so many waves into
the soul of the Son of God; for it is also of His passion, and of the excess of His sorrow, that we must explain this passage: " Save me 0
God, for the waters are come in unto My soul." With this difference,
that while the waves entering into the sea are there confounded and
lost, so that it is not possible to distinguish them one from the other;
here, on the contrary, that is to say, in this abyss of sins and sea of
sorrows, with which the Saviour of the world was overwhelmed, He
discerned without mixture or confusion all the various sins for which
He was about to suffer: the sins of kings and people; the sins of
the rich and the poor; the sins of fathers and children; the sins of
the priests and the laity. In these torrents of iniquity He distinguishes slanders and calumnies, obscenities and adulteries, simony and
usury, treasons and vengeance.  With all the keenness of His Divine
penetration, He perceives Himself called to answer for the ravings
of the proud and ambitious, the excesses of the sensual and voluptuous, the impieties of atheists and libertines, the impostures and
malice of hypocrites. Should we be astonished if all this, according
to the metaphor of the Holy Spirit, having formed a deluge of
waters in His blessed soul, it shouldbe swallowed up by them; and
if also, in the grief of His heart, and in the sorrow caused by His zeal
for God and His love for us, this deluge of waters should have been
followed by a sweat of blood?  "And his sweat was as it were
great drops of blood."
Behold, Christians, what I call the Passion of Christ, and what
formed the first scene of His suffering! Is it thus that we consider
sin?  And does the sorrow that we feel on account of it produce in
us proportionably like effects? Let us now enter into the secrets of
our consciences; and, profiting by the model which God proposes to
us, let us see if our dispositions, in the exercise of Christian peni.
tence, have at least that just measure which must give it validity.
Is it thus, I say, that we consider sin? do we conceive the same
horror of it? do we lose tranquillity of soul in it? are we agitated
and grieved at it? Is this sin, by the idea which we form of it, a




THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIBT.                -51
punishment to us as it was to Jesus Christ?  Do we, like Jesus
Christ, fear it more than all the evils in the world? does it bring us
Ly remorse for it into a kind of agony? Ah! my brethren, cries
St Chrysostom, touched with this comparison, behold the great disorder with which we have to reproach ourselves, and on account
of which we must eternally weep over ourselves. A God-man is
troubled at the sight of our sin, and we are tranquil; He is afflicted
by it, and we are unmoved; He is humbled for it, and we are bold;
He sweats even streams of blood, and we shed not one tear; this is
what should terrify us. We sin, and far from being sorrowful even
unto death, perhaps after the sin do we not still insult the justice and
providence of our God, and do we not say within ourselves, like the
ungodly, " I have sinned and what evil has happened to me?" Am
I less at my ease on account of it? Am I of less consideration in
the world? Does it diminish my credit and authority? Hence
that false peace so directly opposed to the agony of the Son of God;
that peace which we enjoy in the most frightful condition, which is
a state of sin. Although the enemies of God, we do not allow ourselves merely to appear satisfied. Not only do we affect to be so,
but we are capable of being so in reality, even so as to be able to
dissipate ourselves and run into the frivolous joys of the age.
Reprobate peace, which can only proceed from the hardness of our
hearts. Peace a thousand times more sad than all the other punishments of sin, and in some respects worse than sin itself I Hence that
vain confidence so contrary to the holy fear of Jesus Christ; that
presumptuous confidence which encourages us wheie this God-man
has trembled; which inspires us with hope where He believed that
we ought to fear; which flatters us with a hope of mercy, and which
promises to us the exercise of a Divine patience, upon which He
never reckoned. A mercy badly understood, a patience weak and
chimerical, which would but serve, and which, in fact, by the abuse
which we make of it, does but serve to cherish our sin. Hence
that hardness of heart, and if I may be allowed to use the term, that
effrontery which blushes at nothing, and which appears so monstrous
when compared with the confusion of Jesus Christ. While we sin
against God, we are not less lofty before men; we support sin with
assurance, and far from being confounded at it, we glory in it, we
applaud ourselves for it, we are puffed up by it, we triumph on account of it. This is what obliges the Divine Word to humble Himself. The scandalous insolence of certain sinners could not be re.
paired by any other humiliation than that of Jesus Christ; the blind
rashness of so many libertines could not be expiated by any other




l52                LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
fears than those of Jesus Christ; the indifference of so many insensible souls required no less remedy than the sensibility of Jesus
Christ. That God might be duly satisfied, that sin might at once be
as detested as it was detestable, it was needful that a sorrow for it
should at once be conceived proportionate to its malice. Only the
God-man was capable of this, because He only could know the
wickedness of sin perfectly and in all its extent, and consequently
He only was able to hate sin. For this purpose He is come, and in
the days of His mortal life, as says St. Paul, "Having offered up
prayers and supplications, with strong crying and tears unto Him
that was able to save him from death, He has given us the most excellent idea of Christian sorrow." If, then, we still bring to His
sacrament lukewarm hearts, cold hearts, barren and hard hearts,
doubt not, my brethren, concludes St. Bernard, that it is to us that
the Saviour to-day addresses these words, " Weep not for Me, but
for yourselves."
Indeed, do you know what will condemn us most in the judgment
of God? Our sins will not even be so criminal as our pretended contritions; those languishing contritions, so little conformed to the
fervor of Jesus Christ; those superficial contritions with which we
know so well how to preserve all the ease of our minds, all the
cheerfulness of our hearts, all the relish for pleasures, all the delights and allurements of society; those imaginary contritions which
never afflict us, and which, by an infallible consequence, produce no
change. If we are influenced by the spirit of faith, one sin is enough
to disconcert all the powers of our souls; to throw us into the same
consternation as Cain, to produce cries strong as those of Esau, when
he saw himself excluded from his birthright and deprived of' his
father's blessing; to make us groan as that king,f Babylon when
he perceived the hand that wrote his sentence; we will say more,
even, in a word, to make us feel at the bottom of our hearts, agree2,bly to the language of the apostle, what Jesus Christ felt in Himself: "Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus."
But because the habit of sin has by degrees hardened our hearts,
that which terrified Jesus Christ alarms us no more; that which excited all his passions touches us no more. 0 Lord, said David, and
we ought to say with him, heal my soul. But entirely to heal
my soul, heal it from its feeble and imperfect contritions, which
render its wounds yet more incurable instead of closing them. Heal
it because at least it is in commotion; heal the breaches thereof,
for it shaketh. But it is not enough that it is shaken, it must be
converted by the invincible force of the example of Jesus Christ




THE PASS10N  OF JESUS CHRIST.                   t9
Having this model before our eyes, the penitence which we have so
often abused will become salutary to us; it will be no more what it
has been for us so many times, a pure ceremony; it will be a genuine
return, a real change, a true conversion. We have said, and it is
true, that sorrow of sin, to be acceptable, must have qualities as rare
as they are requisite; that it must be supernatural, absolute, sincere,
efficacious, universal; that God must be the principal object of it,
and the end; that it must exceed all other sorrow, and that sin being
the sovereign evil, we ought to abhor it above every other evil; that
there is no possible sin but it must exclude, no temptation but it
must have the power to overcome, no occasion but it must induce
us to avoid; and that if we fail in one of these qualities, it is only
a vain and apparent contrition. But I tell you to-day, that all these
qualities together are comprised in the sorrow of Jesus Christ: I tell
you that to confirm yourselves in a solid contrition, in a perfect con;
trition, you have only to form yourselves after the model of Jesus
Christ, by applying to yourselves what God said to Moses, " See
that thou do according to the pattern." If this is not our rule, let
us weep on this account, my dear hearers; and let us weep the more
bitterly, that we can not apply it to ourselves. Insensible to our sins,
let us at least weep over our insensibility; let us weep because we
do not weep, and let us afflict ourselves because we are not afflicted.
Thus shall we arrive at true contrition, and thus we shall begin to
imitate the suffering of the Saviour.
But besides this inferior passion, if I may so speak, which sin at
first caused Him, behold another with which the senses are more
struck, and of which sin was not less the unhappy and principal
cause. For, from the garden where Jesus Christ prayed, without
stopping at present to contemplate the rest, I am going to Calvary
where he expired; and contemplate in spirit this author and finisher
of our faith, according to the expression of the great Apostle, who,
instead of a life tranquil and happy, of which he was capable, dies
the most cruel and the most ignominious death. Surprised at so
singular an event, I dare venture to inquire of God the reason; I
appeal to His wisdom, His justice, and His goodness; and, Christian
as I am, I am almost ready, after the example of the infidel Jew, to
make a stumbling-block of this mystery of my redemption I And
what indeed is it that I see; the most innocent of men treated as the
most criminal, and delivered to merciless executioners?  But God,
jealous of the glory of His attributes, and interested in destroying
a scandal so plausible in appearance, but at bottom  so injurious as
this, knows well how to repress this first movement of my zeal. And




LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
hu'?' By making me know that this death is the punishment of my
sirns. by making me confess that all that is transacted at Calvary,
whatever horror I may conceive of it, is justly ordained, wisely
managed, and holily and divinely executed. Why? Because by
nothing less could sin be punished, and because it is true, as St.
Jerome has remarked, that if in the treasures of the wrath of God
there were no other chastisements for sin than those which our reason
could approve, our reason being bounded, and sin, in its nature, partaking of something infinite, God would never have been fully satisfied.
Our error, Christians (apply yourselves, if you please, to these
two thoughts well worthy of your reflections), our error is in now
considering the Saviour of the world, by what He is in Himself, and
not by what He became for us: that which deceives us in regarding
His passion with respect to the Jews, who were only the instruments
of it, and never with respect to God, who has been the principal
agent, and the sovereign arbiter of it. I will explain myself. Jesus
Christ in Himself is the Holy of Holies, the well-beloved of the
Father, the object of God's delights, the head of the elect, the source
of all blessings, substantial and incarnate holiness. This is the cause
on account of which our reason revolts in seeing Him suffer. But
we do not observe that at Calvary He ceases, so to speak. to be all
this: and instead of those qualities which were for a time obscured
and eclipsed, He was reduced to be, according to Scripture, a
curse for men, and to be the victim of sin. And, since St. Paul
has said it, I will repeat it after him, and in the same sense as
he, to be the member of sin, and even sin itself: for "He was made
sin for us who knew no sin." Then in this condition, remarks St.
Chrysostom, there was no punishment which was not due to Jesus
Christ: humiliations, insults, scourges, nails, thorns, cross; all this,
in the style of the Apostle, was the wages and deserts of sin; and
since the Son of God then represented sin, and had engaged to be
treated by His Father as though He were sin itself, it was perfectly
in order that he should undergo all that He had to endure. In this
sense has He suffered too much?  No! His love, says St. Bernard,
has been full and abundant, but it has not been prodigal: He calls
Himself a man of sorrows; but, replies Tertullian, it is the name
which becomes Him, since He is a man of sin. We see Him torn
and bruised by blows, but among the number of the blows which
He received, and the multitude of the crimes which He expiated,
there is but too much proportion; He is abandoned to wicked, barbarous and cruel men, who add to the decree of His death whatever
their rage suggests; but although they add to the decree of Pilate,




THE PASSION  OF JESUS CHRIST.                55
they add nothing to that of God. He is maltreated and insulted;
but thus did sin, in substance, merit to be insulted and maltreated.
He expires upon the cross; and here sin must be placed. Then,
Christians, rectify your sentiments; and while this Divine Lamb is
immolated, instead of preoccupying yourselves with the merit of
His holiness and virtues, remember that it is for your secret and
public disorders that He is sacrificed; that it is for your excesses,
for your intemperance, for your shameful attainments and infamous
pleasures. If you figure Him to yourselves, such as He is, laden
with all our debts, this flagellation to which He is condemned will
have nothing more to shock you; those thorns which tear Him will
no more wound the delicacy of your piety; those nails with which
His hands and feet are pierced will no more excite your indignation.
My sin, you will say in yourselves, accusing yourselves, My sin
merited all these punishments and since Jesus Christ is clothed with
my sin, He must bear them all. Also, it is in this view that the
eternal Father, by a conduct as adorable as rigorous, forgetting that
He is His Son, and considering Him as His enemy (pardon me all
these expressions), declares Himself His persecutor, or rather the
chief of persecutors. The Jews converted their hatred into a zeal
for religion, to practice whatever cruelty can devise upon His sacred
body; but the cruelty of the Jews was not sufficient to punish such
a man as this, a man covered with the crimes of all the human race;
it was necessary, says St. Ambrose, that God should interfere, and
this is what faith sensibly discovers to us.
Yes, Christians, it is God Himself, and not the counsel of the
Jews, that delivers Jesus Christ.  This just One, my brethren,
said St. Peter, has not been delivered as guilty, but by an express
order of God, and by a decree of His wisdom: " by the determinate
counsel and foreknowledge of God," a declaration which he made
in their synagogue, without fearing that they would value themselves
upon it, or take any advantage of it, to stifle the remorse of the deicide
which they had committed. It is true that the Pharisees and the
doctors of the law persecuted Jesus Christ to kill Him. But they did
not persecute Him, O Lord, said David, by the spirit of prophecy,
until Thou hadst smitten Him first. Until then they respected
Him; until then, however exasperated they might be, they dared
not attempt His person. But from the moment that Thou art turned
against Him, and discharging Thy wrath upon Him, hast given them
permission, they have thrown themselves upon this innocent prey,
reserved for their fury. But by whom reserved, unless by Thee, 0
my Sod, who, in their sacrilegious vengeance, found the accom



56                2(LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
plishment of Thine holy anger?  For it was Thyself, O Lord, who
justly changed into an incensed God, madest not merely Thy servant Job, but also Thine only Son to feel the weight of Thine arm.
Long didst Thou look for this victim. He was needful to repair Thy
glory and satisfy Thy justice. Thou didst delight in Him; but
seeing none but vile subjects in the world, but guilty offenders, but
feeble men, whose actions and sufferings could not merit any thing
in Thy sight, Thou didst find Thyself reduced to a kind of impotency to avenging Thyself. Now Thou hast wherewith to do it fully:
for behold a victim worthy of Thyself; a victim capable of expiating
the sins of a thousand worlds; a victim such as Thou requirest and
dost justly deserve. Strike now, Lord! Strike! This victim is disposed to receive Thy blows! And without considering that He is
Thy Christ, behold Him but to remember that He is our's; that He
is our substitute; and that in immolating Him, Thou wilt satisfy
that Divine hatred with which Thou viewest sin!
God does not content Himself with striking Him: He seems to
wish to rSect Him, by forsaking and abandoning Him in the midst
of His punishment. This desertion and abandonment of God are in
some respect the punishment of the damned, which Jesus Christ
suffered for us all, agreeably to the language of Saint Paul. The
reprobation of man would have been too trifling a thing to punish
sin in all the extent of its malice. It was necessary, if 1 may be
allowed to use the language-but you will discern its meaning, and I
do not fear that you will suspect me of understanding it in an improper sense —it was necessary that the sensible reprobation of the
God-man should fill up the measure of the malediction and punish.
ment due to sin. O prophet, thou hast said, that thou hast never
seen the righteous forsaken, but behold a memorable example which
thou canst not deny! Jesus Christ forsaken of His Heavenly Father,
and on this account scarcely daring to address Him as Father, only
calling Him His God! "My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?"
Nevertheless, be not offended at this, since after all, there is
nothing in this procedure of God which is not according to the
rules of equity. No, concludes St. Augustin, there never was a
death at once more just and more unjust, than that of the Redeemer; more unjust with respect to the men who were the executors of it, more just with respect to Him who has endured the
sentence of it.  Consider, my dear hearers (this is the reflection
of the Abbe Rupert, with which you will perhaps be surprised,
but which is a certain truth in theology), consider that this day
is singularly and sovereignly the day predicted by the oracles




THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.                  57
of all the Scriptures, as the day of the Lord's vengeance. For it
is not in the last judgment that our offended and indignant God
will satisfy Himself as a God. It is not in hell that He will de.
clare Himself more formally the God of vengeance; it is on Calvary.
It is there that His vindictive justice acts freely and without re.
straint, not being checked, as it is elsewhere, by the littleness of the
subject against which it is exercised. All that the damned shall
suffer is only a half vengeance to Him. Those gnashings of teeth,
those groans and those tears, those fires which shall never be extinguished, all this is nothing, or almost nothing, when compared with
the sacrifice of Jesus Christ in His death.
Behold, my dear hearers, what sin costs a God! But what has it
cost us up to the present moment? And in view of the fearful contrast which we find between Him and us, between Him, all holy as He
is, and ourselves, all guilty as we are, has He not a right to say to us,
"Weep not for Me, but for yourselves I"  For, is it not the most de
plorable subversion to see the guilty spared, while the righteous endures punishment, and so severe a punishment? sinners preserved
and indulged, while the innocent is sacrificed? sin even in honor
and ease, while, if I may thus speak, the resemblance of sin is in ignominy and torments? Yet, ye men of the world, ye men of ease and
sensuality, this is the sorrowful parallel which here presents itself to
your eyes, and which must cover you with confusion! This Lamb
without spot dies I this Lamb, who is made the victim of sin for us/
And how does He die?  Mangled and bloody, crowned with thorns
and fastened to a cross! And you, worthy of all the plagues and
chastisements of Heaven, how do you live? Tranquil, and seeking
all the conveniences, enjoying all the ease, tasting all the sweets of
your condition! Ah I Lord, since sin, that monster which hell has
created against Thee, has caused Thee death, and the death of the
cross, it would be enough for grateful hearts to conceive against it
all the hatred of which they are capable I But Thou hast commanded
us not to weep for Thee, but rather to shed tears over ourselves. And
since sin causes death to us, not a natural and temporal death like
Thine, but a spiritual, an eternal death, should we not employ ourselves in its destruction?  And yet, instead of laboring to destroy it in ourselves, we entertain it, we cherish it, we suffer it to
control us.  Is there any penitence in Christianity, or if there
is, what is the penitence of Christians, and in what does it consist I
Is it a penitence which chastises the body, a penitence which mortifies the senses, a penitence which crucifies the flesh? You know it
is, my dear hearers; and what must more sensibly touch you, is to




58                LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
see the passion of Jesus Christ, not merely caused by sin, but e
newed by sin, as I am going to show you in the second part
SECOND PART.-The Passion of Jesus Christ, however sorrowful
and ignominious it may appear to us, must nevertheless have been
to Jesus Christ Himself an object of delight, since this God-man, by
a wonderful secret of His wisdom  and love, has willed that the
mystery of it shall be continued and solemnly renewed in His
Church until the final consummation of the world. For what is the
Eucharist but a perpetual repetition of the Saviour's Passion, and
what has the Saviour supposed in instituting it, but that whatever
passed at Calvary is not only represented but consummated on our
altars? That is to say, that He is still performing the functions of
the victim anew, and is every moment virtually sacrificed, as though
it were not sufficient that He should have suffered once. At least
that His love, as powerful as it is free, has given to His adorable
sufferings that character of perpetuity which they have in the sacrament, and which renders them so salutary to us. Behold, Christians,
what the love of a God has devised; but behold, also, what has happened through the malice of men! At the same time that Jesus
Christ, in the sacrament of His body, repeats His holy passion in a
manner altogether mysterious, men, the false imitators, or rather
base corrupters of the works of God, have found means to renew
this saame passion, not only in a profane, but criminal, sacrilegious,
and horrible manner I
Do not imagine that I speak figuratively. Would to God,
Christians, that what I am going to say to you were only a figure,
and that you were justified in vindicating yourselves to-day against
the horrible expressions which I am obliged to employ! I speak
in the literal sense; and you ought to be more affected with this
discourse, if what I advance appears to you to be overcharged;
for it is by your excesses that it is so, and not by my words! Yes,
my dear hearers, the sinners of the age, by the disorders of their
lives, renew the bloody and tragic Passion of the Son of God
in the world; I will venture to say that the sinners of the age,
cause to the Son of God, even in the state of glory, as many new
passions as they have committed outrages against Him by their
actions I Apply yourselves to form an idea of them; and in this picture, which will surprise you, recognize what you are, that you may
weep bitterly over yourselves! What do we see in the Passion of
Jesus Christ? A Divine Saviour betrayed and abandoned by cow.
ardly disciples, persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical priests, ridi




THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.                  59
culed and mocked in the palace of Herod by impious coultiers;
placed upon a level with Barabbas, and to whom Barabbas is pre
ferred by a blind and inconstant people, exposed to the insults of
libertinism, and treated as a mock-king by a troop of soldiers equally
barbarous and insolent; in fine, crucified by merciless executioners!
Behold, in a few words, what is most humiliating and most cruel in
the death of the Saviour of the world. Then tell me if this is not
precisely what we now see, of what we are every day called to be
witnesses. Let us resume; and follow me.
Betrayed and abandoned by cowardly disciples: such, 0 divine
Saviour, has been thy destiny. But it was not enough that the apostles, the first men whom Thou didst choose for Thine own, in violation of the most holy engagement, should have forsaken Thee in the
last scene of Thy life: that one of them should have sold Thee,
another renounced Thee, and all disgraced themselves by a flight
which was perhaps the most sensible of all the wounds that Thou
didst feel in dying. This wound must be again opened by a thousand
acts of infidelity yet more scandalous. Even in the Christian ages
we must see men bearing the character of Thy disciples, and not having the resolution to sustain it; Christians, prevaricators and deserters from their faith; Christians ashamed of declaring themselves for
Thee, not daring to appear what they are, renouncing at least in the
exterior what they have professed, flying when they ought to fight;
in a word, Christians in form, ready to follow Thee even to the Supper when in prosperity, and while it required no sacrifice, but resolved to abandon Thee in the moment of temptation. It is on your
account, and my own, my dear hearers, that I speak, and behold
what ought to be the subject of our sorrow.
A Saviour mortally persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical
priests. Let us not enter, Christians, into the discussion of this article, at which your piety would perhaps be offended, and which would
weaken or prejudice the respect which you owe to the ministers of
the Lord. It belongs to us, my brethren, to meditate to-day on this
fact in the spirit of holy compunction; to us consecrated to the
ministry of the altars, to us priests of Jesus Christ, whom God has
chosen in His Church to be the dispensers of His sacraments. It
does not become me to remonstrate in this place. God forbid that I
should undertake to judge those who sustain the sacred office! This
is not the duty of humility to which my condition calls me I Above
all, speaking as I do, before many ministers, the irreprehensible life
of whom contributes so much to the edification of the people, I am
not yet so infatuated as to make myself the judge, much less the




60                LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
censor of their conduct. But though it should induce you only to
acknowledge the favors with which God prevents you, as a contrast,
from the frightful blindness into which He permits others to fall;
remember that the priests, and the princes of the priests, are those
whom the Evangelist describes as the authors of the conspiracy
formed against the Saviour of the world, and of the wickedness cominitted against Him. Remember that this scandal is notoriously publie, and renewed still every day in Christianity. Remember, but with
fear and horror, that the greatest persecutors of Jesus Christ are not
lay libertines, but wicked priests; and that among the wicked priests,
those whose corruption and iniquity are covered with the vail of hypocrisy, are His most dangerous and most cruel enemies I A hatred,
disguised under the name of zeal, and covered with the specious
pretext of observance of the law, was the first movement of the persecution which the Pharisees and the priests raised against the Son
of God I Let us fear lest the same passion should blind us I Wretched
passion, exclaims St. Bernard, which spreads the venom of its malignity even over the most lovely of the children of men, and which
could not see a God upon earth without hating Him I A hatred
not only of the prosperity and happiness, but what is yet more
strange, of the merit and perfection of others! A cowardly and
shameful passion; which, not content with having caused the death
of Jesus Christ, continues to persecute Him by rending His mystical
body, which is the Church; dividing His members, which are believers; and stifling in their hearts that charity which is the spirit of
Christianity I Behold, my brethren, the subtle temptation against
which we have to defend ourselves, and under which it is but too
common for us to fall I
A Redeemer reviled and mocked in the palace of Herod by the
mpious creatures of his court. This was, without doubt, one of the
most sensible insults which Jesus Christ received. But do not sup.
pose, Christians, that this act of impiety ended there. It has passed
from the court of Herod, from that prince destitute of religion, into
those even of Christian princes. And is not the Saviour still a sub.
ject of ridicule to the libertine spirits which compose them? They
worship Him externally, but internally how do they regard His
maxims? What idea have they of His humility, of His poverty,
of His sufferings?  Is not virtue either unknown or despised?  It
is not a rash zeal which induces me to speak in this manner; it is
what you too often witness, Christians; it is what you perhaps feel
in yourselves; and a little reflection upon the manners of the court,
will convince you that there is nothing that I say which is not con



THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.                61
firmed by a thousand examples; and that you yourselves are some.
times unhappy accomplices in these crimes. Herod had often earnestly wished to see Jesus Christ. The reputation which so many
miracles had given Him excited the curiosity of this prince, and
he did not doubt but that a man who commanded all nature, might
strike some wonderful blow to escape from the persecution of His
enemies. Bput the Son of God, who had not been sparing of His
prodigies for the salvation of others, spared them for Himself, and
would not say a single word about His own safety. He considered
Herod and his people as profane persons, with whom He thought it
improper to hold any intercourse, and He preferred rather to pass
for a fool, than to satisfy the false wisdom of the world. As His
kingdom was not of this world, as He said to Pilate, it was not at
the court that He designed to establish Himself. He knew too
well that His doctrine could not be relished in a place where the
rules of worldly wisdom only were followed, and where all the
miracles which He had performed, had not been sufficient to gain
men full of love for themselves, and intoxicated with their greatness.
In this corrupted region they breathe only the air of vanity; they esteem only that which is splendid they speak only of preferment:
and on whatever side we cast our eyes, we see nothing but what
either flatters or inflames the ambitious desires of the heart of man.
What probability then was there that Jesus Christ, the most hum.
ble of all men, should obtain an hearing where only pageantry and
pride prevail? If He had been surrounded with honors and riches,
He would have found partisans near Herod, and in every other place.
But as He preached a renunciation of the world both to His disciples and to Himself, let us not be astonished that they treated Him
with so much disdain. Such is the prediction of the holy man Job,
and which after Him must be accomplished in the person of all the
righteous; " the upright man is laughed to scorn." In fact, my deaT
hearers, you know that, whatever virtue and merit we may possess,
they are not enough to procure us esteem at court. Enter it, and
appear only like Jesus Christ clothed with the robe of innocence.
Only walk with Jesus Christ in the way of simplicity; only speak
as Jesus Christ to render testimony to the truth; and you will find
that you meet with no better treatment there than Jesus Christ. To
be well received there, you must have pomp and splendor. To keep
your station there, you must have artifice and intrigue. To be favor.
ablyheard there, you must have complaisance and flattery. Then all
this is opposed to Jesus Christ; and the court being what it is, that is
to say, the kingdom of the prince of this world, it is not surprising




62                LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
that the kingdom of Jesus Christ can not be established there. But
woe to you, princes of the earth. Woe to you, men of the world, who
despise this incarnate wisdom; for you shall be despised in your turn i
and the contempt which shall fall upon you, shall be much more tor
rible than the contempt which you manifest can be prejudicial.
A Saviour placed upon a level with Barabbas, and to whom
Barabbas is preferred by a blind and fickle rabble. How often have
we been guilty of the same outrage against Jesus Christ, as the blind
and fickle Jews! How often, after having received Him in triumph
in the sacrament of the communion, seduced by cupidity, have we
not preferred either a pleasure or interest after which we sought, in
violation of His law, to this God of glory I How often, divided
between conscience which governed us, and passion which corrupted
us, have we not renewed this abominable judgment, this unworthy
preference of the creature even above our God I Christians, observe
this application; it is that of St. Chrysostom, and if you properly
understand it, you must be affected by it. Conscience, which in
spite of ourselves, presides in us as judge, said inwardly to us,
"What art thou going to do? behold thy pleasure on the one hand,
and thy God on the other: for which of the two dost thou declare
thyself? for thou canst not save both; thou must either lose thy
pleasure or thy God; and it is for thee to decide." And the passion,
which by a monstrous infidelity, had acquired the influence over
our hearts, made us conclude-I will keep my pleasure. "But what
then will become of thy God," replied conscience secretly, "and what
must I do; I, who can not prevent myself from maintaining his
interests against thee?" I care not what will become of my God,
answered passion insolently; I will satisfy myself, and the resolution is taken. "But dost thou know," proceeded conscience *y its
remorse, " that in indulging thyself in this pleasure it will at last submit thy Saviour to death and crucifixion for thee?" It is of no consequence if He be crucified, provided I can have my enjoyments.
" But what evil has He done, and what reason hast thou to abandon
Him in this manner?" My pleasure is my reason; and since Christ
is the enemy of my pleasure, and my pleasure crucifies Him, I say
it again, let Him be crucified.
Behold, my dear hearers, what passes every day in the consciences
of men, and what passes in you and in me, every time that we fall
into sin, which causes death to Jesus Christ, as well as to our souls I
Behold what makes the enormity and wickedness of this sin I I know
that we do not always speak, that we do not always explain ourselves
in such express terms and in so perceptible a manner; but after all,




THE PASSION  OF JESUS CHRIST.                 63
without explaining ourselves so distinctly and so sensibly, there is a
language of the heart which says all this. For, from the moment that
I know that this pleasure is criminal and forbidden of God, I know
that it is impossible for me to desire it, impossible to seek it, without losing God; and consequently I prefer this pleasure to God in
the desire that I form of it, and in the pursuit that I make after it.
This, then, is sufficient to justify the thought of St. Chrysostom, and
the doctrine of the theologians upon the nature of deadly sin.
A Saviour exposed to insults, and treated as a mock-king by a
troop of feigned worshipers. What a spectacle, Christians! Jesus
Christ, the eternal Word, covered with a pitiful, purple robe, a reed
in His hand, a crown of thorns upon His head, delivered to an insolent soldiery, who, according to the expression of Clement Alexandrine, made a theatrical king of Him whom the angels adore with
trembling! They bowed the knee before Him, and, with the most
cutting derision, they snatched from Him the reed which He held, to
strike Him on the head. An act too much resembling the impieties
which are every day committed, during the celebration of our most
august mysteries! Were He to appear in all His Majesty, such as
He will display at His second coming, you would be seized with
fear. But, says St. Bernard, the more He is little, the more worthy
is He of our respects; since it is His love, and not necessity, which
reduces Him to His state of abasement. But it appears that you
take pleasure in destroying His work, by opposing your malice to
His goodness. You insult Him, even on the throne of His grace; and,
to use the words of the Apostle, you do not fear to trample under foot
the blood of the New Testament I For, indeed, what else do you do by
so many acts of irreverence, and so many scandals which equally dishonor the sanctuary which you enter, and the God which it contains?
Ah, my brethren, I might well ask the greater part of the Christians of the present day, what St. Bernard asked them in his time:
What do you think of your God, and what idea have you con.
ceived of Him?  If He occupied the rank which He ought to oc.
cupy in your minds, would you proceed to such extremes in His
presence? Would you go to His feet to insult Him? for I call it
insulting Jesus Christ to come before the altars to unbend ourselves,
to amuse ourselves, to speak, to converse, to trouble the sacred
mysteries by immodest smiles and laughter. I call it insulting the
majesty of Jesus Christ, to remain in His presence in indecent postures, and with as little decorum as in a public place. I call it insulting the humility of Jesus Christ to make an ostentatious display
before His eyes, of all the luxury and all the vanities of the world.




64                LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
I call it insulting the holiness of Jesus Christ to bring near His tab.
ernacle, and into His holy house, a shameful passion which we entertain and kindle afresh there, by bold looks, by sensual desires, by
the most dissolute discourses, and sometimes by the most sacrilegious abominations. God formerly complained of the infidelity of
His people, addressing them by the mouth of His prophet-" thou
hast profaned My holy name." But it is not only His name that we
profane, it is His body; it is His blood; it is His infinite merits; it is
even His divinity; it is all that He possesses that is venerable and
great. Nevertheless, do not deceive yourselves; for the Lord will
have a day of reckoning; and, justly incensed at so many injuries,
He will not allow you to escape with impunity; but He will know
how to avenge Himself by covering you with eternal confusion!
In fine, Christians, a Saviour crucified by merciless executioners,
the last effect of the cruelty of men upon the innocent person of
the Son of God. It was at the foot of that cross, where we see Hiun
suspended, that the justice of the Father waited for Him during
four thousand years. Thus He regarded it, however frightful it
might seem, as an object of delight; because He there found the
reparation of the divine glory, and the punishment of our offenses.
But in proportion as this first cross had charms for Him, in that
same proportion does He feel horror at that which our sins prepare
for Him every day. It is not, said St. Augustin, the rigor of that
of which He complains, but the cruelty and the weight of this appear to Him insupportable I He knew that His cross, ignominious
as it was, would be transferred from Calvary, as speaks St. Augustin, to the heads of the emperors. He foresaw that His death would
be the salvation of the world; and that His Father would one day
render His ignominy so glorious, that it would become the hope and
the happiness of all nations. But in this other cross, where we
asten Him ourselves by sin, what is there, and what can there be
to console him?  Nothing but His love despised!  His favors rejected, unworthy creatures preferred to the Creator!
If then the sun concealed himself that he might not give his light to
the barbarous action of his enemies who crucified him; sinner, what
darkness ought not to cover from view thy wanderings and thy excesses? For it is by these —understand it yet once more, if you have
not sufficiently understood it-it is by these, my dear hearers, that
you incessantly renew all the Passion of Jesus Christ I It is not I who
say it, it is St. Paul in the Epistle to the Hebrews: " They crucify
to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put Him to an open shame.'
As if this great Apostle would explain himself thus. Do not think,




THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.                 65
my brethren, that they were the Jews only who imbrued their
nands in the blood of the Saviour. Ye are accomplices in this deicide. And by what means? By your impieties; your sacrileges; your
obscenities; your jealousies; your resentments; your antipathies;
your revenge, and whatever corrupts your heart and excites it to revolt against God! Is it not then just, that while you weep over Jesus
Christ, you should yet weep more over yourselves? since ye are not
only the authors of His death, but your sins destroy all the merit of
it, as it respects yourselves, and render it useless and even prejudicial to you; as it remains for me to prove in the third part.
THIRD PART.-That there are men and Christian men, to whom,
by a secret judgment of God, the Passion of Jesus Christ, salutary as
it is, may become useless, is a truth too essential in our religion to
be unknown, and too sorrowful not to be the subject of our grief.
When the Saviour from the height of His cross, ready to give up
His Spirit, raised this cry toward heaven, " My God, My God, why
hast Thou forsaken Me 1" there was no one who did not suppose but
that the violence of His torments forced from Him this complaint,
and perhaps we ourselves yet believe it. But the great Bishop
Arnauld de Chartres, penetrating deeper into the thoughts and affections of this dying Saviour, says, with much more reason, that the
complaint of Jesus Christ to His Father, proceeded from the sentiment with which He was affected, in representing to Himself the
little fruit which His death would produce; in considering the small
number of the elect who would profit by it; in foreseeing with horror, the infinite number of the reprobate, for whom it would be useless: as if He had wished to proclaim that His merits were not fully
enough, nor worthily enough remunerated; and that after having
done so much work, He had a right to promise to Himself a different
success in behalf of men. The words of this author are admirable:
Jesus Christ complains, says this learned prelate, but of what
does He complain? That the wickedness of sinners makes Him lose
what ought to be the reward of the conflicts which He has maintained.
That millions of the human race for whom He suffers will nevertheless be excluded from the benefit of redemption. And because He re.
gards Himself in them as their Head, and themselves, in spite of their
worthlessness, as the members of His mystical body; seeing them
abandoned by God, He complains of being abandoned Himself; "My
God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" He complains of what
made St. Paul groan; when, transported with an apostolic zeal, he
said to the Galatians, " What, my brethren, is Jesus Christ then dead
5




66               ]LOUIS BOURDALOUE.
in vain? Is the mystery of the cross then nothing to you? Will not
this blood which He has so abundantly shed have the virtue to sanctify you?"
But here, Christians, I feel myself affected with a thought which,
contrary as it appears to that of the Apostle, only serves to strengthen
and confirm it. For it appears that St. Paul is grieved because Jesus
Christ has suffered in vain; but I, I should almost console myself if
He had only suffered in vain, and if His passion was only rendered
useless to us. That which fills me with consternation is, that at the
same time that we render it useless to ourselves, by an inevitable
necessity it must become pernicious: for this passion, says St.
Gregory of Nazianzen, "partakes of the nature of those remedies
which kill if they do not heal, and of which the effect is either to
give life, or to convert itself into poison: lose nothing of this, I beseech you." Remember then, Christians, what happened during the
judgment, and at the moment of the condemnation of the Son of God.
When Pilate washed his hands before the Jews, and declared
to them that there was nothing worthy of death in this righteous
Man, but that the crime from which he freed himself rested upon
them, and that they would have to answer for it, they all cried
with one voice, that they consented to it, and that they readily
agreed that the blood of this just Man should fall upon them and
upon their children. You know what this cry has cost them. You
know the curses which one such imprecation has drawn upon them,
the anger of heaven which began from that time to burst upon
this nation, the ruin of Jerusalem which followed soon after-the
carnage of their citizens, the profanation of their temple, the destruction of their republic, the visible character of their reprobation
which their unhappy posterity bear to this day, that universal banishment, that exile of sixteen hundred years, that slavery through
all the earth-and all in consequence of the authentic prediction
which Jesus Christ made to them of it when going to Calvary, and
with circumstances which incontestably prove that a punishment as
exemplary as this, can not be imputed but to the deicide which they
had committed in the person of the Saviour; since it is evident,
says St. Augustine, that the Jews were never further from idolatry,
nor more religious observers of their law than they were then, and
that, excepting the crime of the death of Jesus Christ, God, very far
from punishing them, would, it seems, rather have loaded them with
His blessings. You know all this, I say; and all this is a convincing
proof that the blood of this God-man is virtually fallen upon these
sacrilegious men, ai d that God, in condemning them by their own




THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST.                 67
mouth, although in spite of Himself, employs that to destroy them
which was designed for their salvation.
But, Christians, to speak with the Holy Spirit, this has happened
to the Jews only as a figure; it is only the shadow of the fearful
curses of which the abuse of the merits and passion of the Son
of God must be to us the source and the measure. I will explain
nyself. What do we, my dear hearers, when borne away by the im,
moderate desires of our hearts to a sin against which our consciences
protest? And what do we, when, possessed of the spirit of the world,
we resist a grace which solicits us, which presses us to obey God?
Without thinking upon it, and without wishing it, we secretly pronounce the same sentence of death which the Jews pronounced against
themselves before Pilate, when they said to him " His blood be upon
us."  For this grace which we despise, is the price of the blood of
Jesus Christ; and the sin that we commit is an actual profanation of
this very blood. It is, then, as if we were to say to God-" Lord, I
clearly see what engagement I make, and I know what risk I run,
but rather than not satisfy my own desires, I consent that the blood
of Thy Son shall fall upon me. This will be to bear the chastisement
of it; but I will indulge my passion; Thou hast a right to draw
forth from it a just indignation, but nevertheless I will complete my
undertaking."
Thus we condemn ourselves. And here, Christians, is one of the
essential foundations of this terrible mystery of the eternity of the
punishments with which faith threatens us, and against which our
reason revolts. We suppose that we can not have any knowledge
of it in this life, and we are not aware, says St. Chrysostom, that
we find it completely in the blood of the Saviour, or rather in our
profanation of it every day. For this blood, my brethren, adds this
holy doctor, is enough to make eternity, not less frightful, but less
incredible. And behold the reason, This blood is of an infinite dignity; it can therefore be avenged only by an infinite punishment.
This blood, if we destroy ourselves, will cry eternally against us at
the tribunal of God. It will eternally excite the wrath of God
against us. This blood, falling upon lost souls, will fix a stain upon
them, which shall never be effaced. Their torments must consequently never end. A reprobate in hell will always appear in the
eyes of God stained with that blood which he has so basely treated.
God will then always abhor him; and, as the aversion of God from
His creature is that which makes hell, it must be inferred that
hell will be eternal. And in this, O my God, Thou art sovereignly
just, sovereignly holy, and worthy of our praise and adoration. It




68                LOUIS BOURDALOUE
is in this way that the beloved disciple declared it even to God Him
self in the Apocalypse. Men, said he, have shed the blood of Thy
servants and of Thy prophets; therefore they deserve to drink it, and
to drink it from the cup of Thine indignation. " For they have shed
the blood of saints and prophets, and Thou hast given them blood to
drink." An expression which the Scripture employs to describe
the extreme infliction of Divine vengeance. Ah I if the blood of the
proTphels has drawn down the scourge of God upon men, what may
we not expect from the blood of JEsus CHRIST? If the blood of
martyrs is heard crying out in heaven against the persecutors of the
faith, how much more will the blood of the REDEEMER be heard I
Then once more, Christians, behold the deplorable necessity to
which we are reduced. This blood which flows from Calvary either
demands grace for us, or justice against us. When we apply ourselves to it by a lively faith, and a sincere repentance, it demands
grace; but when by our disorders and impieties, we check its salutary virtue, it demands justice, and it infallibly obtains it. It is in
this blood, says St. Bernard, that all righteous souls are purified;
but by a prodigy exactly opposite, it is also in this same blood that
all the sinners of the land defile themselves, and render themselves,
if I may use the expression, more hideous in the sight of God.
Ah i my God, shall I eternally appear in Thine eyes polluted with
that blood which washes away the crimes of others? If I had simply to bear my own sins, I might promise myself a punishment less
rigorous, considering my sins as my misfortune, my weakness, my
ignorance. Then, perhaps, thou wouldest be less offended on account of them. But when these sins with which I shall be covered, shall present themselves before me as so many sacrileges with
respect to the blood of Thy Son; when the abuse of this blood
shall be mixed and confounded with all the disorders of my life;
when there shall not be one of them against which this blood shall
not cry louder than the blood of Abel against Cain; then, 0 God
of my soul! what will become of me in Thy presence?  No, Lord,
cries the same St. Bernard, affectionately, suffer not the blood of my
Saviour to fall upon me in this manner. Let it fall upon me to sanctify, but let it not fall upon me to destroy! Let it fall upon me
in a right use of the favors which are the Divine overflowings of
it, and not through the blindness of mind and hardness of heart,
which are the most terrible punishments of it. Let it fall upon me
by the participation of the sacred Eucharist, which is the precious
source of it, and not by the maledictions attached to the despisers
of Thy sacraments I In fine, let it fall upon me by influencing my




THE PASSION OF JESUS 6HRIST                 69
zon(luct and inducing the practice of good works, and let it not
fall upon me for my wanderings, my infidelities, my obstinacy, and
my impenitence! This, my brethren, is what we ought to ask today from Jesus Christ crucified. It is with these views that we ought
to go to the foot of His cross and catch the blood as it flows. He
was the Saviour of the Jews as well as of us; but this Saviour, says
St. Augustin, the Jews have converted into their judge. Avert
from us such an evil I May He who died to save us be our Saviour 
May He be our Saviour during all the days of our lives! And may
His merits, shed upon us abundantly, lose none of their efficacy in
our hands, but be preserved entire by the fruit we produce from them!
May, He be our Saviour in death I And at the last moment, may the
cross be our support, and thus may He consummate the work of our
salvation which He has begun! May He be our Saviour in a
blessed eternity, where we shall be as much sharers in His glory a
we have been in His sufferings I




DISCOURSE FORTY.EIGLHTH
ESPRIT FIECHIER.
FLECIIER was born in the year 1632, at Pernes, a small l illage iear
Avignon, and died at Montpellier in 1710. His studies were completed
at the early age of fifteen, when he became teacher of Belles lettres,
where he had been educated. His first ecclesiastical charge was the
Bishopric of Nismes, to which he was appointed by Louis XIV., who, at
the time of the appointment, expressed his regret at being deprived of
hearing him longer at Paris. Though a strict Catholic, Flechier seems
to have possessed a kind and lovely disposition, and a generosity worthy
of imitation. In eloquence he almost divides the supremacy with Bossuet. The latter has been compared to Demosthenes, the former, to
Isocrates. Bossuet had more of comprehensive grasp, vehement energy,
spontaneous beauty, and overwhelming grandeur; but Flechier excelled
him in neatness, softness, regularity, and harmony of language. La
Harpe gives as his most striking qualities, spirit, elegance, purity, just..
ness, and delicacy of ideas, and an ornamented, flowery, harmonious
diction. Flechier's reputation rests mainly upon his funeral orations,
which place him among the first pulpit orators. His best is that which
follows, on the death of Marshal Turenne. In delivering it, his fervid eloquence held the congregation breathless; and when he came to the passage, "I am troubled —Turenne is dying," etc., it is said that they burst
forth in sobs and tears, as if themselves were present at the mournful
spectacle.
FUNERAL ORATION FOR HENRI DE LA TOURD'AUVERGNE,*
VISCOUNT TURENNE, MARSHAL GENERAL OF THE ARMY, ETC.
"All the people of Israel greatly bewailed him. They wept many days, and said,
Why is that great man dead, who saved the people of Israel?"-1 MAc. c. 9.
I can not, messieurs, at the outset, give you a higher idea of the
mournful subject with which I am about to occupy your attention,
* Pronounced at Paris, in the Church of St. Eustache, January 10th, 1676.




FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE.                   71
than by citing the noble and expressive terms used by the Scrip tures
to praise the life and deplore the death of the sage and valiant Maccabeus-the man who spread the glory of his nation to the ends of
the earth; who covered his camp with a buckler, and forced that
of the enemy with the sword; who subdued the kings leagued
against him, and rejoiced Jacob with those virtues and exploits, the
memory of which shall endure forever. This man, who defended
the cities of Judah, who subdued the pride of the children of Ammon, and returned loaded with the spoils of Samaria, after having
burned upon their own altars the gods of foreign nations; this man,
whom God had thrown around Israel like a wall of iron, against
which all the forces of Asia had so frequently dashed themselves to
pieces; who defeated numerous armies, disconcerted the proudest
and most accomplished generals of the King of Syria, came annually
like the least of the Israelites, to repair, with his own triumphant
hands, the ruins of the sanctuary, and desired no other recompense
for the services he had rendered his country, than the honor of having served it. This valiant man, while driving before him, with
invincible courage, the enemies whom he had reduced to a shameful
flight, at last received a mortal wound, and remained buried, as it
were, in his own triumph. At the first report of this disaster, all
the cites of Judah were moved, and floods of tears ran from the eyes
of all the inhabitants. For a time they were confounded, dumb, and
motionless. At length breaking the long and mournful silence, in a
voice interrupted by sobs, they gave utterance to the grief, the pity
and fear which oppressed their hearts, and exclaimed: " Why is that
great man dead, who saved the people of Israel!" At this cry, Jerusalem redoubled its weeping; the arches of the temple trembled;
Jordan was troubled, and all its banks re-echoed the sound of those
mournful words: "Why is that great man dead, who saved the
people of Israel!"
Christians, whom a mournful ceremony has assembled in this
place, do you not call to mind what you saw and felt five months
ago?"* Do you not recognize yourselves in the affliction which I
have described, and in your minds substitute, for the hero spoken of
in Scripture, him of whom I propose to speak? The virtues and
fate of the one resemble those of the other, and to the latter nothing
is wanting to.day but a eulogy worthy of him. Oh, if the Spirit divine, Spirit of power and truth, should enrich my discourse with
those natural and vivid images which represent virtue, and, at the
same time, persuade to its practice, with what lofty conceptions shall
* This oration was delivered five months after the death of Turenne.




72                 ESPRIT FLECHIER.
I fill your minds, and what noble impressions communicate to yout
hearts, by the recital of so many edifying and glorious actions!
What subject was ever better fitted to receive all the ornaments
of a grave and solid eloquence than the life and death of the high and
mighty Prince Henry de la Tour d'Auvergne, Viscount Turenne,
Marshal-general of the Camps and Armies of the King, and Colonel general of the Light Cavalry? Where shine, with such luster,
the glorious results of military virtue, the conduct of armies, sieges
of castles, storming of cities, passages of rivers, bold attacks, honorable retreats, well-ordered encampments, vigorous combats, battles
gained, enemies vanquished, scattered by force and address, or worn
out and consumed by a sage and lofty prudence? Where can be
found such numerous and striking examples, than in the actions of
a man wise, modest, liberal, disinterested, devoted to the service of
nis king and country, great in adversity, by his fortitude, in prosperity by his moderation, in difficulties by his prudence, in danger
by his valor, in religion by his piety?
What can inspire sentiments more just and affecting than a death
so sudden and surprising; a death which suspended the course of
our victories, and dissipated the fondest hopes of peace? Powerful
enemies of France, ye live, and the spirit of Christian charity for.
bids me to cherish a wish for your death. Only may ye recognize
the justice of our arms, accept the peace which, in spite of your
losses, ye have so often refused, and in the abundance of your tears,
extinguish the fires of a war which ye have unfortunately kindled.
God forbid that I should extend my wishes further. Inscrutable are
the judgments of God! You live; and it is mine, in this pulpit, to
mourn a sage and virtuous General, whose intentions were pure, and
whose virtue seemed to merit a longer life, a more extended career.
But let us suppress our complaints; it is time to commence his
eulogy, and to show how that powerful man triumphed over the
enemies of the state by his bravery, over the passions of his soul by
his virtue, over the errors and vanities of the world by his piety.
If I interrupt the order of my discourse, pardon a little confusion in
a subject which has caused us so much grief. I may sometimes confound the General of the army with the sage and the Christian. I
shall praise now his victories, and now the virtues which gained
them. If I can not rehearse all his actions, I shall discover them in
their principles; I shall adore the God of armies, invoke the God of
peace, bless the God of mercy, and through the whole win your at.
tention, not by the force of eloquence, but by the reality ard greatness of the virtues about wkich I am engaged to speak.




FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE.                   73
Do not suppose, messieurs, that I shall follow the cust. m of ora.
tors, and praise M. de Turenne as ordinary men are praised. If his
life had less of glory, I should dwell upon the grandeur and nobility
of his House; and if his portrait were less beautiful, would discover
those of his ancestors. But the glory of his actions effaces that of
his birth, and the smallest praise that can be given him is, that he
prang from the ancient and illustrious house of Tour d'Auvergne,
which has mingled its blood with that of kings and emperors, given
rulers to Aquitaine, princes to all the courts of Europe, and queens
even to that of France.
Before his fourteenth year he began to carry arms. Sieges and
battles were the exercises of his youth, and his first amusements
were victories. Under the discipline of his maternal uncle, the
Prince of Orange, he learned the art of war, in the quality of a simple soldier, and neither pride nor indolence restrained him from one
of his employments which required labor and obedience. He was
seen in this last rank of military service, neither refusing any labor,
nor dreading any peril; doing from a sense of honor what others
did from necessity, and distinguished from them only by a greater
attachment to fatigue, and a nobler application to all his duties.
Then commenced a life whose career was yet to become so glori.
ous, like those rivers which deepen and expand the further they extend from their source, and which carry wealth and prosperity to all
the regions through which they flow. From that time, he lived only
for the glory and welfare of his country. He performed all the services which could be expected from a mind firm and active, lodged
in a robust and healthy frame. In his youth he had all the prudence
of mature age. His days were full, to use the language of Scripture;
and as he did not lose his early years in luxury and pleasure, he was
not compelled to spend his last in weakness and inactivity.
What enemy of France has not felt the effects of his valor, and
what part of our frontier has not served as the theater of his glory?
He crosses the Alps, and in the famous actions of Casal, of Turin,
and of the rout of Quiers, he signalizes himself by his courage and
prudence. Italy regards him as one of the principal instruments of
those great and prodigious successes which posterity will scarcely
credit. He passes from the Alps to the Pyrennees, to aid in the conquest of two important places, which puts one of our finest provinces
under protection from all the efforts of Spain. He goes to collect, beyond the Rhine, the remnants of a defeated army; he takes
cities, and assists in gaining battles. Thus by degrees, and by his
own merit, he rises to supreme command, and shows, during the




74                 ESPRIT FLECHIER.
whole course of his life, what can be done for the defense of a kingdom by a General who is rendered worthy to command by obeying,
and who joins to courage and genius application and experience.
Then it was that his mind and heart displayed all their energies
Whether called to arrange matters, or bring them to an issue; to
pursue victory with ardor, or wait for it with patience; whether to
counteract the designs of the enemy by bravery, or dissipate the
fears and jealousies of his allies by wisdom; whether to control
himself amid the successes, or sustain himself amid the reverses, of
war, his soul was always equal to the occasion. He had only to
change virtues when fortune changed her face; elated without pride,
depressed without meanness, almost equally admirable when, with
judgment and boldness, he saved the remains of his troops beaten at
Mariandel, as when he himself beat the Imperials and the Bavarians;
or when, with triumphant troops, he forced all Germany to ask peace
from France.*    *    *    *    *    *    *
Let us follow this prince in his last campaigns, during which so
many difficult enterprises, so many glorious successes are to be regarded as proofs of his courage, and rewards of his piety. To commence his marches with prayer, to repress impiety and blasphemy,
to protect sacred persons and property against the insolence and
avarice of the soldiers, to invoke in every danger the God of armies,
is the common care and duty of all generals. But he goes far beyond this. Even while commanding the army, he regards himself
as a simple soldier of Jesus Christ. He sanctifies wars by the purity
of his intentions, by the desire of a happy peace, and by the laws of
Christian discipline. He looks upon his soldiers as his brethren, and
believes himself under obligation to exercise Christian charity in a
cruel profession, wherein general humanity itself is lost. Animated
by these lofty motives, he surpasses himself, and proves that courage becomes firmer when sustained by the principles of religion,
that there is a pious magnanimity which wins success in spite of
dangers and obstacles, and that a warrior is invincible when he combats with faith, and stretches forth pure hands to the God of armies,
who protects him.
As from God he derives all his glory, so to him he returns it all,
and cherishes no other confidence than what is founded on the
Divine approbation. Here let us set before you one of those critical
occasions,t when he attacks with a small number of troops the entire forces of Germany! He marches three days, crosses three
rivers, meets the enemy, and gives them battle. With numbers on
* The Peace of Munster.       t Battle of Entzeim.




FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE.                   75
one side, and valor on the other, fortune is long doubtful.  At last
courage fires the multitude; the enemy is confused, and begins to
yield. "Victory I" shouts a voice. At once the General checks all
emotion which gives ardor to battle, and in a severe tone says:
" Silence! Our fate is not in our own hands, and we ourselves will
be vanquished, if God does not succor us!" With these words, he
raises his hands to heaven, " whence cometh help," and continuing
to give his orders, he waits with submission between hope and fear,
for the execution of Heaven's will.
How difficult it is to be at once victorious and humble! Military success leaves in the mind I know not what exquisite pleasure,
which fills and absorbs it. In such circumstances one attributes to
himself a superiority of force and capacity. He crowns himself
with his own hands; he decrees to himself a secret triumph; he regards as his own the laurels which he gathers with infinite toil, and
frequently moistens with his blood; and even when he renders to
God solemn thanks, and hangs in his temples the torn and bloodstained trophies which he has taken from the enemy, is not vanity
liable to stifle a portion of his gratitude, and mingle with the vows
which he pays to God, applauses which he thinks due to himself; at
least does he not retain some grains of the incense which he burns
upon his altars?
It was on such occasions that Marshal Turenne, renouncing all
pretensions, returned all the glory to Him to whom it legitimately
belongs. If he marches, he acknowledges that it is God who protects and guides him; if he defends fortresses, he knows that he
defends them in vain if God does not guard them; if he forms an
intrenchment, he feels that it is God who forms a rampart around
him to defend him from every attack; if he fights, he knows whence
to draw all his force; and if he triumphs, he thinks that he sees an
invisible hand crowning him from heaven. Referring thus all the
favors he receives to their origin, he thence derives new blessings.
No longer does he fear the enemies by whom he is surrounded;
without being surprised at their numbers or strength, he exclaims
with the prophet: "Some trust in their horses and chariots, but we
will trust in the Almighty." In this steadfast and just confidence
he redoubles his ardor, forms great designs, executes great things,
and begins a campaign, which appears as if it must prove fatal to the
empire.
He passes the Rhine, and eludes the vigilance of an accomplished
and prudent general. He observes the movements of the enemy.
He raises the courage of the allies; controls the suspicions and




7B                JESPRIT FLECHIER.
vacillating faith of neighboring powers. He takes away from the
ove the will, from the other the means of injuring him; and profit.
in8 by all those important conjunctures which prepare the way for
great and glorious events, he leaves to fortune nothing which human
skill and counsel can take from him. Already has a panic seized
the enemy. Already has that eagle taken its flight to the mountains,
whose bold approach alarmed our provinces. Those brazen mouths,
invented by the bottomless pit for the destruction of men, thunder
on all sides, to favor and precipitate the retreat; and France in suspense awaits the success of an enterprise which, according to all the
rules of war, must be infallible.
Alas I we knew all that we might hope, but we knew not all that
we might fear. Divine Providence concealed from us a calamity
greater than the loss of a battle. It was to cost a life which each of
us would have been willing to redeem with his own: and all that
we could gain was of less value than what we were to lose. 0 God I.trrible but just in Thy counsels toward the children of men,
Thou disposest of victors and victories I To fulfill Thy pleasure, and
cause us to fear Thy judgments, Thy power casts down those whom
it has lifted up. Thou sacrificest to Thy Sovereign Majesty the
noblest victims, and strikest, at Thy pleasure, those illustrious heads
which Thou hast so often crowned I
Do not suppose, messieurs, that I am going to open here a tragic
scene; to represent that great man stretched upon his own trophies;
to uncover that body, blood-stained and ghastly, over which still lingers the smoke of the thunder which struck it; to cause his blood,
like that of Abel's, to cry from the ground, or expose to your eyes
the mournful images of your country and religion in tears I In
-light losses we may thus surprise the pity of our auditors, and by
studied efforts draw from their eyes a few forced and useless tears.
But we describe without art, a death which we mourn without deceit. Every one finds in himself the source of his grief, and reopens his own wound; and it is not necessary to excite the imagination in order to affect the heart.
Here I am almost forced to interrupt my discourse. I am
troubled, messieurs I Turenne dies! All is confusion-fortune
vacillates-victory leaves us —peace takes its flight-the good in.
tentions of the allies relax-the courage of the troops fails with
grief, anon burns with vengeance-the whole army remain motionless. The wounded think of the loss which they have suffered, and
not of the wounds which they have received. Dying fathers see
their sons weeping over their dead General. The army, in mourn




FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE.                          77
ing, is engaged in rendering him funeral honors, and fame, which
delights to spread through the world extraordinary events, goes to
make known through Europe the glorious history of the Prince's
life, and the mournful regrets occasioned by his death.*
What sighs, what lamentations and praises, then re-echo through
the cities and the country. One, looking upon his growing crops
blesses the memory of him to whom he owes the hope of his harvest
Another, who enjoys in repose the heritage which he received from
his fathers, prays that eternal peace may be his who saved him from
the horrors and cruelties of war. Here they offer the adorable
sacrifice for him who sacrificed his life for the public good. There
others prepare for him a funeral service, where they expected to prepare a triumph. Each selects for praise that point in his glorious
life which appears the most illustrious. All unite in his eulogy.
With mingled sobs and tears, they admire the past, regret the present, and tremble for the future. Thus the whole empire mourns the
death of its defender. The loss of a single man is felt to be a public
calamity.
Wherefore, my God, if I may presume to pour out my heart in
Thy presence, and speak to Thee, who am but dust and ashes, wherefore did we lose him in our most pressing necessity, in the midst of
his greatest achievements, at the highest point of his valor, and in
the maturity of his wisdom?  Was it that, after so many actions
worthy of immortality, he had nothing further of a mortal nature
to perform? Had the time arrived when he was to enjoy the reward of so many virtues, and receive from Thee the crown of
righteousness which Thou reservest for such as have finished a
glorious career? Perhaps we placed too much confidence in him,
for Thou forbiddest us in the sacred Scriptures to trust in an arm of
flesh, or put confidence in the children of men. Perhaps it was a
punishment of our pride, ambition, and injustice. As the gross
vapors ascend from the depths of the valleys, and form themselves
into thunder which falls upon the mountains, so rises from the hearts
of the people those iniquities, the punishment of which falls upon
the heads of such as govern and defend them. I presume not, O
* Turenne died July 27, 16756. He was surveying, from an eminence, the disposition of the hostile army, when he was struck with a cannon-ball, which also cut off the
arm of an officer who was near him. The son of that officer ran to his father's aid, and
shed over him a flood of tears. " It is not for me, my son, that you ought to weep," said
the wounded officer, "but for that great man whom France has lost." He was honored
with a magnificent funeral service, and buried in the royal tomb at St. Denis. Mascaron,
BisLop of Tulle, pronounced his funeral oration. That by Flechier was delivered five
months afterwarl, on the occasion of a grand religious ceremony.




78                 ESPRIT FLECHIER.
Lord, to sound the depths of Thy judgments, nor to discover the
secret and inscrutable causes from which Thy justice or Thy mercy
acts. It is my duty and desire only to adore! But Thou art just,
and Thou hast afflicted us. And in an age so corrupt as ours, we
need not seek elsewhere the causes of our calamities, than in the
disorder of our manners.
Let us then, messieurs, derive from our sorrows motives for
penitence, and seek only in the piety of that great man, true and
substantial consolation. Citizens, strangers, enemies, nations, kings
and emperors, mourn and revere him. Yet what can all this contribute to his real happiness? His king even, and such a king I
honors him with his regrets and tears —a noble and precious mark
of affection and esteem for a subject, but useless to a Christian. He
shall live, I acknowledge, in the minds and memories of men, but
the Scripture teaches us that the thoughts of man, and man himself, are but vanity. A magnificent tomb may inclose his sad remains; but he shall rise again from that superb monument, not to
be praised for his heroic exploits, but to be judged according to his
work, whether good or bad. His ashes shall mingle with those of
the numerous kings who governed the kingdom which he so generously defended; but, after all, what remains under those precious
marbles, either to him or to them, of human applause, the pomp of
courts, or the splendor of fortune, but an eternal silence, a frightful
solitude, and a terrible expectation of the judgment of God? Let
the world, then, honor as it will the glory of man, God only is the
recompense of faithful Christians.
O death, too sudden! nevertheless, through the mercy of God,
long anticipated, of how many edifying words, and holy examples
hast thou deprived us? We might have seen him, sublime spectacle! a Christian, dying humbly in the midst of triumphs and victories. With what profound sincerity would he have mourned his
past errors, abasing himself before the majesty of God, and imploring the succor of His arm, not against visible enemies, but against
the enemies of his salvation! His living faith and fervent charity,
doubtless, would have deeply affected our hearts; and he might
have remained to us a model of confidence without presumption,
of fear without feebleness, of penitence without artifice, of constancy
without affectation, and of a death, precious in the sight both of God
and of man.
Are not these conjectures just? They were involved in his
character. They were his cherished designs. He had resolved to
live in a manner so holy that it is presumed he would have died in




FUNERAL ORATION FOR TURENNE.                   79
the same way. Ready to cast all his crowns at the feet of Jesus
Christ, like the conquerors in the Apocalypse, ready to gather together all his honors, and dispossess himself of them, by a voluntary
renunciation, he no longer belonged to the world, though Providence
retained him in it. In the tumult of armies, he solaced himself with
the sweet and secret aspirations of solitude. With one hand he
smote the Amalekites, and with the other, stretched out to heaven,
he drew down the blessing of God. This Joshua, in battle, already
performed the functions of Moses upon the Mount, and under the
arms of a warrior bore the heart and will of a penitent.
0 God! who piercest the profoundest depths of our conscience,
and seest the most secret intentions of our hearts, even before they
are formed, receive into the bosom of Thy glory that soul, ever occupied with thoughts of Thine eternity! IIonor those'desires which
Thou Thyself didst inspire. Time failed him, but not the courage
to fulfill them. If Thou requirest works with desires, behold the
charities which he made or destined for the comfort and salvation of
his brethren; behold the souls which, with Thine aid, he brought
back from error; behold the blood of Thy people which he so frequently spared; behold his own blood which he so generously shed
on our behalf; and yet more than all, behold the blood shed for him
by Jesus Christ.
Ministers of God, complete the holy sacrifice! Christians redouble your vows and prayers, that God, as a recompense of his
toils, may admit his spirit to the home of everlasting repose, and give
him an infinite peace in heaven, who three times procured for us a
peace on earth, evanescent it is true, yet ever delightful; ever de~irable I




DISCOURSE  FORTY NINTH.
CHARLES DE LA RUE.
LA RUE was a native of Paris, where he was born in the yeai 1643,
and where he also died, aged 82. He was early distinguished among
the Jesuits as a Professor of Belles-lettres and Rhetoric, and also for his
poetical powers. A Latin poem of his was translated into the French
by the distinguished Corneille. As a preacher, he was celebrated in the
court and the capital. The editors of the " Bibliotheque Portative" speak
of him in terms of the highest praise. Gisbert, in his " Christian Eloquence," describes La Rue, probably with somewhat of extravagance, as
" a motel of sublime, tender, and pathetic eloquence; in whom is united
the liveliest, the most intelligent, the richest, and the boldest imagina.
tion, a most exalted genius, and an astonishing facility of conception
and expression."  La Rue's works are exceedingly rare.  They are
contained in three volumes, 12mo. His most celebrated sermons are
the "Dying Sinner" and the " Sinner after Death."
THE DYING SINNER.
PREACHED BEFORE THE KING.
"When Jesus came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a dead man car
nrd out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." —LuKE, vii. 12.
Sire —To be young and powerful, to be important and necessary,
are vain obstacles to death. This dead man of our Gospel was in the
flower of his age. He was dear and precious to a mother who had
no other support.  He was of sufficient rank to draw all the city ta
his splendid funeral procession. Yet he dies; and the sight of this
death must render the idea of it more terrible to those attached to
life by all these glittering bonds. But what can induce those
to love it who have no such attractions? The only means of




THE DYING SINNER.
rendering death less terrible, is to make it a custom and a duty to
think upon it.
Melancholy duty to think upon death; and, above all, when we
are young! But because we are young, are we on that account to
deem ourselves the less mortal? You are young and mortal; you
are a sinner and mortal. And can a mortal, who feels himself a
sinner, harden himself against the thought of death, whether he be
young or old? especially as it does not depend upon him to prevent death in his youth; but rather to see that he die not in his
sin. What blindness, then, and what obduracy, to turn all our
thoughts to our preservation from death, which will come in spite
of us, and must be either happy or miserable; instead of rather
striving to render that death happy by immediately departing from
sin!
I do not then mean to-day simply to discourse on death, but on
death in sin; by describing to you the image of false conversion
in a dying sinner, in contrast with the resurrection of the dead man
in our Gospel.
You see two things concur to effect the resurrection of the dead
man: the tender pity of the Saviour, and the prompt obedience of
death. On the contrary, a dying sinner, under the hope of compassion from his God, and under the presumption of his own obedience,
dares to defer his conversion till his last moment. Then will God
wait to regard him with pity? No. Will even the dying sinner be
ready to render Him obedience? No. Two terrible truths which it is
too late to preach to the dying-what can they make of them? We
must preach them to the living, full of confidence in their health, in
their strength, in their youth. They will discover the end of them.
And with this end in view, dear hearers, what will be the disposition of God toward the sinner? You will see it in the first part.
What will be the disposition of the sinner himself toward God?
You will see it in the second.
FIRST PART. —Whether or not God may be disposed to bestow
the grace of repentance upon the dying sinner, is a point too delicate to decide; for, in fact, God is the Master of His grace; He can
dispose of it as He pleases; He sometimes gives it to the most unworthy. Besides, we do not know what passes between God and
the dying man; we do not know how far His mercy extends; nor
the compassion which He exercises toward the frailty of the human
heart. What we at once condemn, perhaps God excuses. This is all
that we can say in favor of the dying sinner. But, on the other hand,
6




82                CHARLES DE LA RUE.
I see the Church, the expositor of Jesus Christ, deploring this sort
of penitence; regarding it as an insult offered to God; doubting its
efficacy, and anxiously turning away her children from it. All the
holy Fathers, expressing themselves by the voice of St. Augustin,
declare that in receiving the sinner to this sort of penitence, they
can not give him the assurance of his salvation. To relieve the
sinner from this fear, and to give him that assurance which the
Church and the Fathers feel themselves incapable of giving, some
superior authority is requisite: we must have nothing less than the
authority of God. Let us then see what God has said, and what He
has done in this matter. We have only these two means of knowing
the truth.
What seems most to the point is that marvelous inclination to
pardon which appears throughout the sacred books; and particularly
the promise which God makes by the prophet Ezekiel: "As for the
wickedness of the wicked, he shall not fall thereby in the day that
he turneth from his wickedness." Nothing is apparently more
favorable to the pretensions of the obstinate sinner. I say apparently, sirs, for let us duly examine the sense of these words. God
promises to the sinner the forgiveness of his sins whenever he turns
from his wickedness; but, does He promise to the sinner the grace
of conversion at any time when he may think of turning from his
evil ways? These are two very different things. You shall be
pardoned when you are converted; this is what God has promised.'You shall have grace sufficiently strong to convert yourself whenever you wish it; this is what God has not promised, and least of
all to the sinner who abuses divine mercy even till his dying hour.
For, although mercy still accompanies him till that period; although
it does not abandon him while he is living upon earth; although he
may yet have at least the ability to pray, which is the last resource
and the last link of connection between the sinner and his God; yet
this feeble link, which with time, and during life, might have become
strong by the habitude of the sinner, and have led him by degrees
to the end of his salvation, becomes useless on the bed of death, by
the terror of surprise, and by the flight of time.
It then requires an energy more powerful and prompt to effect
his conversion than even during the former course of his life. Then
so far from God having promised to give the dying sinner this powerful grace, He has positively threatened not to give it him.
See the first chapter of Proverbs: " Because I have called, and
ye refased;" I have invited, and you have not come. "I have
etrelcuti out My hand, and no man regarded;" you have turned




THE DYING SINNER.                      83
away your eyes. " I also will laugh at your calamity, I will mock
when your fear cometh;" I, in My turn, will laugh at your death, I
will return contempt for contempt, and mockery for mockery.
" Then shall they call upon Me, but I will not answer;" You shall
cry then, you shall call Me to your aid, but I will not hear. And,
in the New Testament: " I go my way," after having dwelt so long
with so little fruit among you; " and ye shall seek Me," when I
shall be far from your sight; " and ye shall die in your sins;" in
spite of your inquiries, ye shall die in your sins.
Here then, sinners, collect all the force of your reasoning. If it
is true that God bestows the grace of conversion at death, often
enough to support you in this hope; why, in all the sacred books,
has God taken away this hope from you? Why has He never said
to you that He might be disposed to give it you? Why has He
said, on the contrary, " I will laugh;" " I will mock;" "' I will not
hear;" " ye shall die in your sins?" I hear nothing here of mercy
or grace.
Then, from what He has said, judge of His disposition toward
the obstinate sinner.
I go yet further: judge of it from what He has done. If it is
true that this grace has ever been promised, it is probable that while
there have been sinners, and dying sinners, God, to support His
promise, would have given us some public example of a hardened
sinner crowned with grace on the bed of death. Produce me, then,
une solitary instance. St. Bernard finds but one; that of the thief
upon the cross. I confess that this is a very great sinner; but is he
a hardened sinner? This moment is the last of his life; but, says
Eusebius, it is the first of his calling. You blame the tardiness of
his conversion. I, says St. Ambrose, admire the promptitude of it.
Had this thief ever seen the Son of God preaching repentance, proving His divinity, multiplying the loaves, and raising the dead? The
eyes of all Judea were filled with the wonders of the Saviour; yet
all Judea being hardened, had rejected His grace and fastened the
Saviour to the cross. This thief, says St. Augustin, on discovering
the first beam of His grace, recognizes Him as his King, and adores
Him as his God, even upon the cross, in the midst of outrages and
contempt. And behold, my dear hearers, the ground which you
take, the model which you choose to authorize your presumption I
You who, knowing the divinity of the Saviour, have for so many
years resisted the convictions of His grace, which urge you to repent; do you not, on the contrary, find the condemnation of your
own obstinate malice in the docility of this thif, a d in his prompt




84                CHARLES:DE LA RUE.
obedience? Where then will you find examples which flatter you,
if this example, which is so public, is a decree against you?
You point to sinners yet more criminal than yourselves, whose
edifying deaths have made them the envy of the best of men; sinners who, after spending a libertine life, have died, say you, true
Christians, and true saints. What, says St. Gregory of Nazianzen,
does it cost so little to be a saint? Only a day, only a moment is
necessary according to us; it is only to will it. Know that these
people, whatever tears they may have shed, have not died true
Christians. A true Christian does not defer his penitence till death.
A true Christian does not wait for the day of his death to show that
he is a true Christian. Every day, and every moment of his life,
he is preparing for death. And, where is the man, if he is not
wholly in despair, who on his dying bed, in the possession of his
senses, and in the midst of his friends, does not at least make some
effort to support the appearance of a Christian. It is rare to find
railleries and blasphemies carried there: he has not then the hardihood to do it. One begins to preach; another sets all the churches
to pray for his salvation, or at least for his health; another will only
die in the arms of the greatest servants of God. Some cover their
dying bodies with the sackcloth of repentance. All confess, and
zommunicate with the aspirations of piety on their lips.
If nothing more were necessary to die the death of the righteous,
all sinners on their dying beds would be saints. All those who say to
God, Lord, Lord, would enter into His kingdom; which is contrary to
the word of God. All those who have mocked at God, would not
in their turn be mocked by God; which is also opposed to His word.
All those who seek after God, after having fled from Him, would
find Him at every moment and every hour, and would not die in
their sin; which is likewise against His word. If, then, what God
has said is true, the greater part of such kinds of repentance must
be false, in spite of all the appearances which they have of truthappearances which God permits for ends which are unknown to us;
appearances which even the devil supports to draw other sinners
into the snare, and to persuade them more powerfully that it is
easy to die in a state of grace, after having lived in sin. Well then,
my dear hearers, you have not any certain example to sustain your presumption. But I-I have a hundred to confound it: an Antiochus,
an Esau; a crowd of frightful instances in Scripture and in history.
This being established, I draw from it three conclusions of great
importance, if they may terminate in the salvation of those who
hear me.




THE DYING SINNER.                     86
1. The first is, that no man living can promise himself the grace of
repentance at death, without an extreme temerity. The second, that
the great and the rich, above all, are those who ought to flatter themselves the least. The third, that in all conditions those who have re.
ceived from God the favor of a long life, have yet less reason to expect
this favor at death. Lose nothing, sirs, of these three truths which
are so weighty and so pressing. You are all concerned in them.
I do not say that the dying sinner has nothing left to afford encouragement. Our Lord has expressly granted grace to the thief,
to show us the extent of His power, and to support our hope. But
He has granted this grace to the thief alone. It does not appear that
He has bestowed it upon any other, which shows that the fear of
danger ought to check our presumption and that what He has done
once only in moments so touching as those of death, is but a pure
miracle of His goodness.
To defer repentance, and to defer it even till death, is then to
hazard salvation on the hope of a miracle. But, is this a conduct
pardonable even in one of a common understanding, to make so rare
a miracle the foundation of the most important and the most difficult of His affairs, which is that of His salvation? Would you
make it the foundation of your health and life? For, only consult
the Scripture, and it will appear that God has raised more from the
dead than He has converted when dying. Would you, on this account, dare to risk your life and to expose yourself to death under
the idea of a miraculous resurrection? And how then dare you to
risk your salvation on the supposition of a miraculous conversion?
"God can," say you, "convert me at death, as easily as during life I"
Is it then upon what God can do, that you rest your hope? And does
God indeed do all that He can? He can on account of the first sin
damn you as justly as He has damned the rebel angels; yet He does
it not. He does not, then, all that He can: and since you do not
fear all the injury which you may offer to His justice-how can
you promise yourself all the good which His bounty can bestow
upon you Is it not an effort of goodness and mercy sufficiently
great that He resolves to pardon you seven times, and seventy times
seven? that He calls you to repentance every day of your life?
that He shows you the rapidity of time? that He cautions you
against the danger of surprise? Does all this serve only to harden
you in sin? to confirm you in the sad design of pushing His patience as far as it will go; and not rather to humble you before Him
until the moment when you shall see your inevitable ruin approaching, and His arm uplifted against you to strike the last blow?-Ax




86               CHARLES DE LA RUE.
death, you say, when He shall urge us by His grace-at death, we
will think upon it-at death, we have other affairs now-at death,
that will be the proper time to think upon God; now is the time to
enjoy life. In this manner life passes away. But death is before
your eyes, and what can you expect? what but that God will refuse
to you at death, what you have refused during life-that He will
make you feel taat life was the time of grace, and not the time of
pleasure? It is, then, an extreme temerity for any man living, to
cherish the least hope of obtaining the grace of repentance in his
last days-a temerity yet more criminal in the rich and the great.
This is a second reflection.
2. Is it not enough for these to have had as their share the enjoyinents of the earth? to have seen pleasure and joy flow on all sides
answerably to their desires? to have united to the indulgences which
spring from fortune, all those which crime and passion can give?
If, after a long course of years, passed away with impunity in this
tranquillity, they could, by a single sigh, by the repentance of a moment, open to themselves the gates of heaven, and pass from the
felicities of time to those of eternity, where would be the justice
and providence of God? Who, among the prosperous and great of
the world, would not abandon himself to his passions, on condition
of spending the last hour of his life in sorrow, and buying an eternity of pleasures with a few forced tears? It is justice and providence in God, that the tears shed at death should be useless tears, in
order that men in general, and the great in particular, might learn
to weep over their guilt, and to seek their salvation before death.
For this cause the wise man cries to all those who have power and
authority, that they must expect nothing else but a judgment prompt
and terrible. A judgment prompt by its surprises, and terrible by
its rigor; prompt without admitting any leisure to contemplate it;
and terrible without the hope of mitigation.
And, Christian hearers, in the only example which we have of
Divine clemency toward a dying sinner-in that solitary instance of the
goodness of God in such a situation, upon whom has it fallen? Upon
a miserable wretch, unknown by name, known only by his crimes,
and by the honor which he enjoyed of being crucified by the side
of Jesus Christ. All the examples, on the contrary, of the insensibility of God to the repentance of the dying, are taken from
the most exalted characters, the most illustrious sinners. It is thus
he has made it conspicuous. That Esau, who implored with tears
to be received as a penitent, and who was not received, was the
father and the head of am entire nation. That Antiochus, whose




THE DYING SINNER.                      8
vain repentance has so often sounded in your ears, was the master of Asia, and the terror of all the East. Was it not of tho
greatest importance to the glory of the Lord to accept the submission of the greatest king who then existed; to see him magnificently
repair the ravages which he had made in Jerusalem, establish the
law of the true God throughout all his empire, and embrace it himself?  What progress would not such a change seem to promise to
religion? But to all this God appears to shut His eyes. He finds
it a greater glory and a more important interest to undeceive the
great respecting this false opinion: to show them that as He distinguishes them from others in the distribution of His favors, so if He
honor them with forgiveness, they must from this time abase themselves to implore His pardon. He reproves the great, however penitent they appear, and lavishes the grace of repentance, so to speak,
upon the head of a wretched brigand: because he sees more malignity, ingratitude, and presumption in the sins of the great than in
the sins of the poor; a more voluntary inclination for all forbidden
pleasures in the midst of all lawful enjoyments; a freedom from
that want that hurries into vice, that necessity which presses on to
it-and in the stead a continual abundance of all sorts of good,
which aggravates their guilt-theirs, therefore, is the malignity of
sin in all its extent. If there is, then, any favor to be hoped for by
the sinner at death, it is less to be expected by the great than by the
rest of the world.
3. And yet less still is mercy to be expected by those who have
lived a long time in the world. This is my last reflection. I dare
assert, sirs, that one of the most singular favors which God can confer upon men, not only with respect to their desires, but with respect
to their salvation, is to give them a long life, which conducts them
beyond the dangers of youth, and which affords them leisure to
lament their disorders, and to correct their errors. For, to whatever
excess we may be abandoned in the blindness of youth, how can it
be otherwise but that in a course of years we must be awakened by
some disgrace, alarmed by some sorrowful accident, disgusted at last
with the world from the usage of the world itself, and convinced of
the necessity of communion with God?  All these gifts of God are
included in this gift of old age; in that age which we have always
feared, and which we have always hoped. To abuse this gift by
attachment to the world, to pleasure, and to sin, is then to irritate
God in the most sensible manner, and to shut the treasury of His
goodness against us forever. Every day God is prolonging your
life, but you shorten not the chain cf your sins. Your lengthened




88               CHARLES DE LA RUE.
years are so many useless benedictions. Regard them, says St. Greg.
ory, as so many maledictions, as so many signs and presages of
yolur reprobation.
Why has the salvation of Solomon been held in doubt during so
many ages?  Is it not because of the abuse of his last years? His
heart, upright till then, was corrupted in his old age: and his corrupted old age effaced all his past virtues. God no longer took
pleasure in his wisdom, nor in his zeal for the glory of His name.
If He showed him mercy at last, He has thought fit to leave us ignorant of it, to prevent the hardened sinner from availing himself of
this example, and to teach us the hopelessness of old age, which is
voluptuous and full of sin.
What, then, can they hope for, who, differing from Solomon in the
employment of their youth, also imitate the excesses and shame of
his last days? For more than forty years this king had been the
example of the world, and the object of Divine approbation: yet all
this has not prevented his salvation from being left in doubt. And,
you sinners, who can scarcely remember that you have ever been
righteous, who surpass your former irregularities every day, who are
never weary of life but on account of the difficulty of finding new
pleasures, upon what can you repose your confidence at death? To
what can you impute your perseverance in evil? Have you wanted
leisure to reflect upon your conduct, or light to see its errors, or
examples to instruct you at the peril and expense of others? A
thousand revolutions which have happened before your eyes, since
you have been in the world, ought to have convinced you that none
can escape from the arm of God. You have escaped from it during
life, and you think yet to escape from it at death. No, your obdu-acy has no excuse: it will have no pardon I
What injustice does God do to you? No pardon? But why?
Because there is no end to your sins I You have been filling up the
measure of them all your days, and now, ready to quit life, you
groan at its rapidity I You would fain be immortal, that you migh%
render your libertinism immortal I And can you expect a happy
immortality to be opened to you at death, you who would have
placed your happiness in the immortality of your sin? No, it is to
you that these words of the prophet Isaiah are properly addressed:
" I have long time holden My peace, I have been still and refrained
Myself," I have waited for you patiently, I am wearied. To you
belongs what follows, " now will I cry like a travailing woman, I
will destroy and devour at once." I will at length speak: but at
the same time I will overwhelm you, I will destroy you. There




THE DYING SINNER.                      89
shall be no interval between your course of life and your entire
destruction. "But if at death," you say, " I seek on my part sincerely to obtain mercy, will God refuse it to me?" No: but what I
wish to show you is, that at death you will never be disposed to
seek mercy in a proper way. You have seen the disposition of God
toward the dying sinner, now behold the disposition of the dying
sinner toward God.
SECOND PART.-Let us approach the bed of this sinner, who is
so bold that he encourages the hope of life even at the very gate of
death, and yet so timid respecting his health, that he dare not so
much as think upon God, lest he should impair it by some gloomy
thought. But the hour arrives in which some faithful friend, wearied
with complaisance and flattery, comes to him to say as the prophet
to the ancient King of Judah-" Set thine house in order." Think
on thyself; it is high time for it. Generally this is not without
some circumlocution, nor without address. O how much caution is
there to make a mortal understand that he must die! But now it is
over I There is no more hope  A minister must be sent for. The
sick man is pressed, and conjured; at length he is convinced of the
fact. Then, seeking for some remains of firmness at the bottom of
his heart, merely to support appearances, he abandons himself within
to the confusion of his thoughts. Ah! what darkness of mind I
what trouble of heart I Let us enter into both; into his mind and
into his heart: and let us see what are their disposition toward God.
There are two sorts of light in the mind which tend to promote
one's conversion-reason and faith. Reason, by awakening in him
some natural motives, such as hatred and horror for his guilt: faith,
by pressing him from supernatural motives.
But where is reason in the obstinate sinner? What has it done for
him during the whole course of his life? What power has it had
over him? Passion has always borne him away against the convictions of reason. Considerations of health and of modesty in youth;
considerations of honor and interest in a more advanced age; considerations of health in old age-all were suppressed by the single
attraction of pleasure. Behold from fifteen to fifty years, what is the
force of reason upon the spirit of a libertine! At death, say you, reason will exert its strength; it will come forth from the tomb, when
man shall be ready to enter into it: its light will awaken him, when
life is almost extinguished. Think, 0 think of the embarrassments
which then beset reason.
First, th - burden of the disease; a soul plunged by the violence




90                CHARLES DE LA R UE.
of pain into sorrow, into an invincible disquietude, collecting all its
thoughts only to contemplate its misery. Nothing can be thought
of but its malady; restlessness trembling, burning heats, perspira.
tions, faintings, and perpetually increasing disquietness. Where is
then the reason of the man?  Would you allow him in this state
to decide on your smallest affairs? Would vou find in him sense
enough to judge of them with propriety?  How then can he have
enough to decide with propriety on the affairs of his soul?
Besides the burden of the disease, there is another burden, that
of the remedies. He is recommended to rest, sleep, and absence
from whatever can disquiet him. Can he think seriously on his
sins, without a cruel inquietude? Dispirited, disgusted with every
thing, interrupted continually by the painful operations of the surgeons-not having sense enough to be persuaded that the love of life
ought to overcome his disgust-can he have sufficient strength of
mind to persuade himself that the love of his salvation ought to
predominate over the love of his sin!
Beside the burden of his malady, and that of the remedies, there
is another burden, that of his affairs. A family in confusion, the
heirs embroiled, accounts to settle, debts to pay; offices and employments in danger; relations and friends in tears. All the world is
fixing its eyes upon him; whatever arrests his attention seems to
speak to him on business. And how can he think only on those
affairs about which he has never thought before?
Behold that man of importance who has never had time during
so many years to study his own heart, and to scrutinize his conscience.
Why? sometimes it was a load of trouble, sometimes a weight of
infirmities, and sometimes a press of business, which rendered him
incapable of application. In each of these embarrassments, taken
separately, he never found himself sufficiently free, nor his reason
sufficiently in exercise, to think upon God. Imagine this to be your
case. How then can any alteration take place, my dear brother?
How will your mind be prepared when all these embarrassments together shall overwhelm you at death? When all the parts of your
frame shall say to you, by the exhaustion of your strength-think
of us. When your domestics shall say to you, by their feebly-acknowledged and ill-requited services-think of us. When your affairs
shall say to you, by the disorder into which you have thrown themthink of us. When your creditors shall say to you, at the sight of
their goods confounded with yours —think of us.  When those
persons who are dear to you shall say, by their sighs, alas I for the
last time-think of us. Torn on every side, distracted by so many




THE DYING  SINNER.                        91
different cries —your reason, at its last gasp, shall cry from the
bottom of your conscience-think of thyself, miserable man I think of
thyself/ Leave every thing besides, and think only of thyselfI My
dear brother, my dear friend, will your feeble reason be able to make
itself heard?
Faith* will perhaps come to the help of reason, to make you
quit all other cares, and apply yourself entirely to the care of you.
soul. Let us then see what is the situation of faith in the soul of the
sinner. It is there: for where is it not? And were any one to say
to me now, "It is not in me," I would say, you deceive yourself; it
is in you, only surrounded with a thousand errors; obscured by a
thousand doubts; concealed under the mask of impiety; without action, without strength, useless and languishing. In this condition,
sometimes avoiding faith, and sometimes opposing it, we become insensible to it. We are accustomed to regard the cross as an indifferent object, and the Gospel as a fable. We are no longer touched by
any thing. And do you persuade yourself that at the mere mention of
death, at the first sight of danger, you shall feel faith revive in your
soul? that this single thought-I must appear before God —wll restore
you to the respect which you have stifled for the cross, for the sacraments, and for the truths of religion? I admit it: but grant me
what I am going to say.
If then your faith recover some strength, it will be but very
feeble. It will never return with its former vigor, all of which you
will then need. It will not destroy the habits of aversion to the things
of the other life, of disgust and coldness toward God, habits rooted
in you, and become, as it were your nature. An act of faith will be
required of you, my dear brother; an act of faith, which will testify
to God and all who are present, that you die in the sentiments of the
Church. "Yes, I believe," says the dying man. You believe? That
word is soon uttered, but is it deeply graven on your heart? Does
it efface in one moment those ideas produced by so many libertine
conversations, so many speculative studies, so many affected doubts,
such disguised atheism, such imaginary power of reasoning? Oh I
you who have reasoned so much upon the mysteries of religion, upon
predestination, providence, immortality, divinity-you who railed so
admirably at the credulity of the simple-you who knew so well
the strength of your genius and the subtility of your discernment —
you now say, " I believe /"  You now reduce yourself to the rank of
* By fiith, as employed in this place, it is evident that the preacher means nothing
more than the voluntary homage which nature generally pays to Revelation in the h )u,
of affliction, or at the approach of death. —Translator.




92               CHARLES DE LA RUE
the simple and ignorant I You now renounce your worldly wisdom,
Your reasons now then are of no avail I You have now no more
scruples in these matters I It is now no longer a dishonor to you to
say, with all the Church, I believe! These two words are indeed very
powerful to make such a wonderful revolution.in your mind in a
moment I
But if you do believe with an undisguised faith, this is only the
disposition of the understanding. What is there of the heart? for it
is in the heart that conversion must be consummated. That heart
ought to be free, sincere, and firm, which is truly converted: this is
absolutely necessary. But the will of a dying sinner, far from being
free, is forced; far from being firm, is weak, and always ready to
change; far from being sincere, is double and disguised, and counterfeited. What appearance is there of conversion in the heart thus
disposed?
There is no conversion without liberty. But is the divorce which
is made at such a time from sin, free? Is it not really forced? Is it
not the effect of fear and necessity?  You forsake your sins? You
are deceived, says St. Ambrose. Your sins forsake you! You say
that you forsake, at least, the occasions and the objects of them. You
are wrong, they are the occasions and the objects which forsake you!
With what grief do you see them escaping I! What would you not
do still to recall them! And you boast that you have forsaken them I
You say you offer your life to God in expiation for your sins. Imaginary sacrifice  Vain and foolish presumption! It is God who
takes your life away from you. You have never dreamed but of
life, while there was the least hope of saving it. You have struggled
to preserve it even to the last spark. And now you pretend to offer
it, and to sacrifice it to God, when it is no longer your own I
But suppose the offering to be free, suppose the change to be unconstrained: what is its duration? Till death? Ah, would to God
that it were I For, without noticing the usual relapses of the greater
part of those who escape the danger, how much is to be feared from
inconstancy and lightness of heart, even in the moment of death?
To how many unforeseen assaults and new temptations is the man
then exposed? You have never known how to combat them during
life, how then can you repulse them at death? How necessary was
it for you in full health to receive supplies of grace when you visited
the Church, that sacred place, where you applied to receive them?
What was then wanted to recall you to sin? Often nothing else but
a recollection, an idea, a sudden return of affection for some detested
objects. When in full health, nothing more was requisite to bring




THE DYING  SINNER.                       93
you under the yoke of your first tyrant. What will then be neces.
sary in the diminution of your strength, and in the increase of his
fury against a soul that has always been his slave, and that must
soon be his prey? Let then one single sin, a sin of habit, a sin of
the heart, present itself to the sinner's mind, to his feeble imagina
tion-let the heart, yet more feeble, indulge this phantom with a
parley but for a moment, and express but one single sentiment of
regret-ah I he abandons himself-he abandons himself, to return to
himself no more! It is done I It is the last movement of that heart,
the last breath of life, the decisive sigh of a wretched eternity l
Zealous ministers, sympathizing friends, pray, weep, bear to his deaf
ears the name of the Saviour I exhibit that Saviour upon the cross I
redouble your aspirations and your cries! You see not the bottom
of that mind nor of that heart I God sees it I God condemns it I
He is dead —he is damned I
" But is it necessary for his damnation, that, while he breathes his
last, the phantom of his sin should be brought to his recollection,
and be retraced in his heart?" Had it ever quitted it?  Had he ever
sincerely detested it? Far from it. What is it to be truly converted? It is to love what you have hated; it is to hate what you
have loved; it is to love God above all created good; it is to hate
sin more than all other evils. A change so difficult, and yet so
necessary and important, is not effected without diligence, and above
all, without courage. But in the moment of exigency, to what feebleness has habit reduced the sinner? The enormity of his sins, the
facility with which he has sinned, his insensibility to sin, have
generated a multitude of difficulties. Slow to fly it, to avoid it, to
quit it, from the tender years of youth, and in every future stage of
life-he said an, hundred times to those who pressed him to forsake it-No, I can not, I can, not now; do not speak to me about
it, I can not. And now, when the soul hangs trembling on the lips,
how can he have sufficient courage and firmness resolutely to sayI can, yes, I can I
Can you, my dear brother, hear then what the minister says to
you, while performing his office for the last time?-You believe.
This is not enough, my dear brother. You must love God. This is
the essential point. Without love to God there is no salvation." Well," answers the dying man, " I must love God."-" What must
I say?"-" But how?"-" What must I do?"-" Aid me!"
Aid you I O sinner, object of pity, aid you to love God l Did
you need any aid to make you love the world, its fashions, its vani.
ties, its company, its excess-into which your depraved heart hurt




94               CHARLES DE LA RUE.
ried itself without any difficulty? You were created to love God;
for this is the end of man. You were created to love God, but you
have never loved Him in the whole course of your life, and yet you
expect to love Him at the moment when you are about to die, and
even in that deplorable moment you want aid to love Him I
Poor substitute for a duty necessarily personal I Useless subtitute I The love of God on the lips of a minister, only at the moment when it ought to be in the midst of your heart I If this love
was there, if it was in your heart, how would it make you feel the
evil of sin I how would it make you feel itself Can a heart love without feeling it? By what outgushings will not the love of God make
itself known in the hearts of penitent saints? To what lengths did
not the love of God go in the heart of Saint Paul? He loved God
so as to call all the powers of earth, heaven, and hell to be witnesses
of his love: so as to defy all creatures to separate him from his love I
" Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?" This man says that
he is a penitent, Sirs, that is to say that there is nothing that can dispute the first place in his heart with God. That is to say that he no
longer loves any thing that is opposed to God, nor more than God,
nor like God. There is no conversion unless we have all these
preferences for God. And how can we have them, and feel nothing?
-and not be able, without being taught, to say to God, " my God, I
love Thee?" Ah I Thou wilt then be the only being, O thou God of
inexhaustible goodness-Thou wilt be the only being that can be
loved, without feeling that we love Thee, and without being able to
express it I We may then die, like Christians, in the hope of Thy
glory, without ever having exercised the essential act of a Christian
during life, and knowing how to exercise it after death I
Think, sirs, on the grief of a zealous and sincere minister at the
sight of this stupidity in a dying man I Perplexed about what he
must do, not daring to deprive him of hope, and seeing no foundation on which to give him encouragement I Fearing lest he should
flatter him by too much tenderness, and still more lest he should
drive him to despair by too much boldness! Mistrusting equally his
pity and his zeal —Ah! if in this embarrassment he could release you
from the obligation of loving God-if he could make up for your
insensibility by the ardor of his words, and the tenderness of his
heart-might not this be acceptable with God?
No, this will not do, my dear brother I We must personally be..
lieve and personally love. O moments lost forever, in which, during the whole course of your life, you might have loved God, might
have learned to love Him, might have accustomed yourself to love




THE DYING SINNER.                      95
Him! Precious moments I in which Divine grace solicited your
heart —in which all the obstinacy of your malice it was necessary to
resist I Then, then, God spake I The mind and the heart had but to
follow I Now God speaks no more I His mind and His heart are shut
against your misery I Your mind and your heart are shut against
His mercy I What do you expect but the rigors of His justice? My
hearers, you still possess these precious moments I God addresses
you while I address you! Expect not that these moments will never
pass away I Make use of them in the exercise of a prompt repentance I So be it —in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the
Holy Spirit 




DISCOURSE FIFTIETH.
FR. ANCOIS DE SALIGNAC DE LA MOTrrHI
FENI~LON.
THE celebrated FtNtLON was born in 1651, at Perigorcl. He was
educated at Cohoes and Paris; took orders at the age of twenty-four;
and subsequently, at different periods, acted as minister in the parish of
St. Sulpice, Abbe, or Superior of an institution of "New Catholics,"
missionary to convert the Protestants, and tutor to the Dukes of Burgundy, Anjou, and Berri. His success in this last position led to his
elevation to the Archbishopric of Cambray; where, after a life of purity,
prayer, and pious effort, sometimes saddened by persecution for righteousness' sake, principally by Bossuet, for his doctrines of Quietism, he
died in 1715, uttering as his last words, "Thy will be done."
Fen6lon, notwithstanding his adherence to the Catholic faith, was a
man of deep piety, and remarkable zeal and sincerity of purpose. He
was called "the good Archbishop of Cambray," and, as marking the
contrast between him and Bossuet, Bishop of Mleaux, it was a common
remark that "l'un prouve la religion, l'autre la fait aimer."-The one
proves religion; the other causes it to be loved.
He used to say, " I spend much time in my closet, in order to be
prepared for the pulpit, and to be sure that my heart is filled from the
Divine Fountain, before I am to pour out the streams upon the people."
As a preacher, he had not the reputation of an orator, and seems to
have studiously avoided the ornamental for the solid beauties founded
on nature and good sense. Cardinal Maury characterizes his as an
"Eloquence soft and flowing, which, far from exciting violent emotions,
gently insinuates itself into the soul, and awakens the most tender affections."  D'Alembert says of his works, "Their most touching charm is
the sensation of peace, and repose, with which he inspires the reader."
The literary works of Fenelon are well known, such as his admirable
"' Dialogues on Eloquence," and his " Telemaque."  There are but four of
his sermons extant: one on " Foreign Missions," the others on " Prayer,"
" Piety," and the "Consecration of the Elector of Cologne.' That on
Prayer, especially, while it lacks the lofty utterances of some of Fen'lon's




THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH GOD.                     97
cotemporaries, is an admirable production. It has been pronounced with
great propriety, "a chef-d'oeuvre for simplicity, argument, piety, and
composition." Few men have been better qualified to speak on this
subject than the good Fen6lon; of whom it was said by one who enjoyed his friendship, " while he watched over his flock with a daily care,
he prayed in the deep retirement of internal solitude." The sermon, in
the original, is without a text, as are all the four above-mentioned, ex
cept that on " Missions." We append one that is appropriate, and prob.
ably, from a single allusion, that on which the author discoursed.
THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH GOD.
"Pray without ceasing."-1 THEs. V. 17.
Of all the duties enjoined by Christianity, none is more essen.
tial, and yet more neglected, than prayer. Most people consider
this exercise a wearisome ceremony, which they are justified in
abridging as much as possible. Even those whose profession or
fears lead them to pray, do it with such languor and wanderings of
mind, that their prayers, far from drawing down blessings, only increase their condemnation. I wish to demonstrate, in this discourse,
first, the general necessity of prayer; secondly, its peculiar duty;
thirdly, the manner in which we ought to pray.
First. God alone can instruct us in our duty. The teachings of
men, however wise and well disposed they may be, are still ineffectual, if God do not shed on the soul that light which opens the mind
to truth. The imperfections of our fellow-creatures cast a shade
over the truths that we learn from them. Such is our weakness
that we do not receive, with sufficient docility, the instructions of
those who are as imperfect as ourselves. A thousand suspicions,
jealousies, fears, and prejudices prevent us from profiting, as we
might, by what we hear from.men; and though they announce the
most serious truths, yet what they do, weakens the effect of what
they say. In a word, it is God alone who can perfectly teach us.
St. Bernard said, in writing to a pious friend-If you are seek.
ing less to satisfy a vain curiosity than to get true wisdom, you will
sooner find it in deserts than in books. The silence of the rocks
and the pathless forests will teach you better than the eloquence of
the most gifted men. "All," says St. Augustin, "that we possess of
truth and wisdom, is a borrowed good, flowing from that fountain,
for which we ought to thirst in the fearful desert of this world, that
7




8ENtLON.
being refreshed and invigorated by these dews from heaven, we may
not faint upon the road that conducts us to a better country. Every
attempt to satisfy the cravings of our hearts at other sources, only
increases the void. You will be always poor, if you do not possess
the only true riches." All light that does not proceed from God,
is false; it only dazzles us; it sheds no illumination upon the difficult paths in which we must walk, along the precipices that are
about us.
Our experience and our reflections can not, on all occasions, give
us just and certain rules of conduct. The advice of our wisest and
most sincere friends is not always sufficient; many things escape
their observation, and many that do not are too painful to be spoken.
They suppress much from  delicacy, or sometimes from a fear of
transgressing the bounds that our friendship and confidence in them
will allow. The animadversions of our enemies, however severe or
vigilant they may be, fail to enlighten us with regard to ourselves.
Their malignity furnishes our self-love with a pretext for the indulgence of the greatest faults. The blindness of our self-love is so
great that'we find reasons for being satisfied with ourselves, while
all the world condemn us. What must we learn from all this dark.
ness? That it is God alone who can dissipate it; that it is He alone
whom we can never doubt; that He alone is true, and knoweth all
things; that if we go to Him in sincerity, He will teach us what
men dare not tell us, what books can not-all that is essential for us
to know.
Be assured that the greatest obstacle to true wisdom is the self.
confidence inspired by that which is false. The first step toward
this precious knowledge, is, earnestly to desire it, tofeel the want of it,
and to be convinced that they who seek it must address themselves
to the Father of lights, who freely gives to him who asks in faith.
But if it be true that God alone can enlighten us, it is not the less
true that He will do this, simply in answer to our prayers. Are we
not happy, indeed, in being able to obtain so great a blessing by
only asking for it? No part of the effort that we make to acquire
the transient enjoyments of this life, is necessary to obtain these
heavenly blessings. What will we not do, what are we not willing
to suffer, to possess dangerous and contemptible things, and often
without any success? It is not thus with heavenly things. God is
always ready to grant them to those who make the request in sincerity and truth. The Christian life is a long and continual tendency of our hearts toward that eternal goodness which we desire
on earth. All our happiness consists in thirsting for it. Now this




THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH GOD                    9
thirst is prayer. Ever desire to approach your Creator, and you
will never cease to pray.
Do not think that it is necessary to pronounce many words. To
pray is to say, Let Thy will be done. It is to form a good purpose;
to raise your heart to God; to lament your weakness; to sigh at the
recollection of your frequent disobedience. This prayer demands
neither method, nor science, nor reasoning; it is not essential to
quit one's employment; it is a simple movement of the heart toward
its Creator, and a desire that whatever you are doing you may do it
to His glory. The best of all prayers is to act with a pure intention,
and with a continual reference to the will of God. It depends much
upon ourselves whether our prayers be efficacious. It is not by a
miracle, but by a movement of the heart that we are benefited; by
a submissive spirit. Let us believe, let us trust, let us hope, and
God never will reject our prayer. Yet how many Christians do we
see strangers to the privilege, aliens from God, who seldom think of
Him, who never open their hearts to Him; who seek elsewhere the
counsels of a false wisdom, and vain and dangerous consolations;
who can not resolve to seek, in humble, fervent prayer to God, a
remedy for their griefs and a true knowledge of their defects, the
necessary power to conquer their vicious and perverse inclinations,
and the consolations and assistance they require, that they may not
be discouraged in a virtuous life.
But some will say, " I have no interest in prayer; it wearies me;
my imagination is excited by sensible and more agreeable objects,
and wanders in spite of me."
If neither your reverence for the great truths of religion, nor the
majesty of the ever-present Deity, nor the interest of your eternal
salvation, have power to arrest your mind, and engage it in prayer,
at least mourn with me for your infidelity; be ashamed of your weakness, and wish that your thoughts were more under your control;
and desire to become less frivolous and inconstant. Make an effort
to subject your mind to this discipline. You will gradually acquire
habit and facility. What is now tedious will become delightful;
and you will then feel, with a peace that the world can not give nor
take away, that God is good. Make a courageous effort to overcome
yourself. There can be no occasion that more demands it.
Secondly. The peculiar obligation of prayer. Were I to give all the
proofs that the subject affords, I should describe every condition of
life, that I might point out its dangers, and the necessity of recourse
to God in prayer. But I will simply state that under all circum.
stances we have need of prayer. There is no situation in which it




100                      FENIELON.
is possible to be placed, where we have not many virtues to acquire
and many faults to correct. We find in our temperament, or in our
habits, or in the peculiar character of our minds, qualities that do
not suit our occupations, and that oppose our duties. One person is
connected by marriage to another whose temper is so unequal that
life becomes a perpetual warfare. Some, who are exposed to the
contagious atmosphere of the world, find themselves so susceptible
to the vanity which they inhale that all their pure desires vanish.
Others have solemnly promised to renounce their resentments, to
conquer their aversions, to suffer with patience certain crosses, and
to repress their eagerness for wealth; but nature prevails, and they
are vindictive, violent, impatient, and avaricious.
Whence comes it that these resolutions are so frail? that all these
people wish to improve, desire to perform their duty toward God and
man better, and yet fail? It is because our own strength and wisdom, alone, are not enough. We undertake to do every thing without God; therefore we do not succeed. It is at the foot of the altar
that we must seek for counsel which will aid us. It is with God that
we must lay our plan of virtue and usefulness; it is He alone that
can render them successful. Without Him, all our designs, however
good they may appear, are only temerity and delusion. Let us then
pray, that we may learn what we are and what we ought to be. By
this means, we shall not only learn the number and the evil effects
of our peculiar faults, but we shall also learn to what virtues we are
called, and the way to practice them. The rays of that pure and
heavenly light that visits the humble soul, will beam on us; and we
shall feel and understand that every thing is possible to those who
put their whole trust in God. Thus, not only to those who live in
retirement, but to those who are exposed to the agitations of the
world and the excitements of business, it is peculiarly necessary, by
contemplation and fervent prayer, to restore their souls to that
serenity which the dissipations of life, and commerce with men have
disturbed. To those who are engaged in business, contemplation
and prayer are much more difficult than to those who live in retirement; but it is far more necessary for them to have frequent recourse
to God in fervent prayer. In the most holy occupation, a certain
degree of precaution is necessary.
Do not devote all your time to action, but reserve a certain portion of it for meditation upon eternity. We see Jesus Christ inviting His disciples to go apart, in a desert place, and rest awhile, after
their return from the cities, where they had been to announce His
religion. How much more necessary is it for us to approach the




THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH  GOD.               101
source of all virtue, that we may revive our declining faith and char
ity, when we return from the busy scenes of life, where men speak
and act as if they had never known that there is a God! We should
look upon prayer as the remedy for our weaknesses, the rectifier of
our faults. He who was without sin, prayed constantly; how much
more ought we, who are sinners, to be faithful in prayer!
Even the exercise of charity is often a snare to us. It calls us
to certain occupations that dissipate the mind, and that may degenerate into mere amusement. It is for this reason that St. Chrysostom says that nothing is so important as to keep an exact proportion
between the interior source of virtue, and the external practice of it;
else, like the foolish virgins, we shall find that the oil in our lamp is
exhausted when the bridegroom comes.
The necessity we feel that God should bless our labors, is another
powerful motive to prayer. It often happens that all human help is
vain. It is God alone that can aid us, and it does not require much
faith to believe that it is less our exertions, our foresight, and our
industry, than the blessing of the Almighty, that can give success to
our wishes.
Thirdly. Of the manner in which we ought to pray. 1. We must
pray with attention. God listens to the voice of the heart, not to that
of the lips. Our whole heart must be engaged in prayer. It must
fasten upon what it prays for; and every human object must disappear from our minds. To whom should we speak with attention,
if not to God? Can He demand less of us than that we should
think of what we say to Him?  Dare we hope that He will listen to
us, and think of us, when we forget ourselves in the midst of our
prayers? This attention to prayer, which it is so just to exact from
Christians, may be practiced with less difficulty than we imagine. It
is true, that the most faithful souls suffer from occasional involuntary distractions. They can not always control their imaginations,
and, in the silence of their spirits, enter into the presence of God.
But these unbidden wanderings of the mind ought not to trouble us;
and they may conduce to our perfection even more than the most
sublime and affecting prayers, if we earnestly strive to overcome
them, and submit with humility to this experience of our infirmity.
But to dwell willingly on frivolous and worldly things, during
prayer, to make no effort to check the vain thoughts that intrude
upon this sacred employment, and come between us and the Father
of our spirits-is not this choosing to live the sport cf our senses,
and separated from God?
2. We must also ask withfaith; a faith so firm that it never fal




102                     F NALON.
ters. He who prays without confidence can not hope that his prayer
will be granted. Will not God love the heart that trusts in Him?
Will He reject those who bring all their treasures to Him, and repose
every thing upon His goodness?  When we pray to God, says St
Cyprian, with entire assurance, it is Himself who has given us the
spirit of our prayer. Then it is the Father listening to the words of
His child; it is He who dwells in our hearts, teaching us to pray.
But must we not confess that this filial confidence is wanting in all
our prayers? Is not prayer our resource only when all others have
failed us? If we look into our hearts, shall we not find that we ask
of God as if we had never before received benefits from Him? Shall
we not discover there a secret infidelity, that renders us unworthy of
His goodness? Let us tremble, lest, when Jesus Christ shall judge
us, He pronounces the same reproach that He did to Peter, " O thou
of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"
3. We must join humility with trust. Great God, said Daniel,
when we prostrate ourselves at Thy feet, we do not place our hopes
for the success of our prayers upon our righteousness, but upon Thy
mercy. Without this disposition in our hearts, all others, however
pious they may be, can not please God. Saint Augustin observes
that the failure of Peter should not be attributed to insincerity in
his zeal for Jesus Christ. He loved his Master in good faith; in
good faith he would rather have died than have forsaken Him; but
his fault lay in trusting to his own strength, to do what his own heart
dictated.
It is not enough to possess a right spirit, an exact knowledge of
duty, a sincere desire to perform it. We must continually renew
this desire, and enkindle this flame within us, at the fountain of pure
and eternal light.
It is the humble and contrite heart that God will not despise.
Remark the difference which the Evangelist has pointed out between
the prayer of the proud and presumptuous Pharisee, and the humble
and penitent Publican. The one relates his virtues, the other
deplores his sins. The good works of the one shall be set aside, while
the penitence of the other shall be accepted. It will be thus with
many Christians. Sinners, vile in their own eyes, will be objects of
the mercy of God; while some, who have made professions of piety,
will be condemned on account of the pride and arrogance that have
contaminated their good works. It will be so, because these have
said in their hearts, " Lord, I thank thee that I am not as other men
are." They imagine themselves privileged souls; they pretend that
they alone have penetrated the mysteries of the kingdom of God;




THE SAINT'S CONVERSE WITH  GOD.                103
they have a language and science of their owp; they believe that
their zeal can accomplish every thing. Their regular lives favor
their vanity; but in truth they are incapable of self-sacrifice, and
they go to their devotions with their hearts full of pride and presumption. Unhappy are those who pray in this manner! Unhappy
are they whose prayers do not render them more humble, more submissive, more watchful over their faults, and more willing to live in
obscurity!
4. We must pray with love.  It is love, says St. Augustin,
that asks, that seeks, that knocks, that finds, and that is faithful to
what it finds. We cease to pray to God as soon as we cease to
love Him, as soon as we cease to thirst for His perfections. The
coldness of our love is the silence of our hearts toward God. Without this we may pronounce prayers, but we do not pray; for what
shall lead us to meditate upon the laws of God, if it be not the love
of Him who has made these laws? Let our hearts be full of love,
then, and they will pray. Happy are they who think seriously of
the truths of religion; but far more happy are they who feel
and love them I We must ardently desire that God will grant us
spiritual blessings; and the ardor of our wishes must render us fit
to receive the blessings. For if we pray only from custom, from
fear, in the time of tribulation-if we honor God only with our lips,
while our hearts are far from Him —if we do not feel a strong desire
for the success of our prayers- -if we feel a chilling indifference in
approaching Him who is a consuming fire-if we have no zeal for
His glory-if we do not feel hatred for sin, and a thirst for perfection, we can not hope for a blessing upon such heartless prayers.
5. We must pray with perseverance. The perfect heart is never
weary of seeking God. Ought we to complain if God sometimes
leaves us to obscurity, and doubt, and temptation?  Trials purify
humble souls, and they serve to expiate the faults of the unfaithful.
They confound those who, even in their prayers, have flattered their
cowardice and pride. If an innocent soul, devoted to God, suffer
from any secret disturbance, it should be humble, adore the designs
of God, and redouble its prayers and its fervor. How often do we
hear those who every day have to reproach themselves with unfaithfulness toward God, complain that He refuses to answer their
prayers I Ought they not to acknowledge that it is their sins which
have formed a thick cloud between Heaven and them, and that God
has justly hidden Himself from them? How often has He recalled
us from our wanderings!  How often, ungrateful as we are, have we
been deaf to His voice, and insensible to His goodness! He would




104                     FtNALON.
make us feel that we are blind and miserable when we forsake Him
He would teach us, by privation, the value of the blessings that we
have slighted. And shall we not bear our punishment with patience?
Who can boast of having done all that he ought to have done; of
having repaired all his past errors; of having purified his heart, so
that he may claim as a right that God should listen to his prayer?
Most truly, all our pride, great as it is, would not be sufficient to inspire such presumption! If then, the Almighty do not grant our
petitions, let us adore His justice, let us be silent, let us humble ourselves, and let us pray without ceasing. This humble perseverance
will obtain from Him what we should never obtain by our own
merit. It will make us pass happily from darkness to light; for
know, says St. Augustin, that God is near to us even when He appears far from us.
6. We should pray with a pure intention. We should not mingle
in our prayers what is false with what is real; what is perishable
with what is eternal; low and temporal interests, with that which
concerns our salvation. Do not seek to render God the protector of
your self-love and ambition, but the promoter of your good desires.
You ask for the gratification of your passions, or to be delivered
from the cross, of which He knows you have need. Carry not to
the foot of the altar irregular desires, and indiscreet prayers. Sigh
not there for vain and fleeting pleasures. Open your heart to your
Father in heaven, that His Spirit may enable you to ask for the
true rcnes. How can He grant you, says St. Augustin, what you
do not yourself desire to receive? You pray every day that His
will may be done, and that His kingdom may come. How can you
utter this prayer with sincerity when you prefer your own will to
His, and make His law yield to the vain pretexts with which your
self-love seeks to elude it? Can you make this prayer-you who
disturb His reign in your heart by so many impure and vain desires?-you, in fine, who fear the coming of His reign, and do not
desire that God should grant what you seem to pray for? No!l if
He, at this moment, were to offer to give you a new heart, and render you humble, and meek, and self-denying, and willing to bear the
cross, your pride would revolt, and you would not accept the offer;
or you would make a reservation in favor of your ruling passion,
and try to accommodate your piety to your humor and fancies I




DISCOURSE FIFTY.FIRST
JAQUES ABBADIE, D.D.
THIS distinguished Protestant divine was born at Nai, near to Pan, in
Bearm, in the year 1654. Having been thoroughly educated in the
University, he was ordained pastor of the French church, at Berlin,
where his influence became great, and especially beneficial to the refugees
who fled thither from the persecution of Louis XIV. In the summer
of 1689 he visited Ireland, where he was made minister of the Savoy,
and afterward advanced to the deanery of Killaloe. He died in 1727.
The works of Dr. Abbadie are numerous, the most celebrated of which
are " The Art of Knowing One's self," a treatise on the " Divinity of
Christ," and one on the " Truth of the Christian Religion." Of the second of these, Booth says, "Few have repelled the adversary with those
powers of genius, and that force of argument, which were employed by
Dr. Abbadie in composing this admirable treatise." Of the latter many
critics and able writers, both Catholic and Protestant, have spoken with
admiration. The celebrated Marchioness de Sevigne says, "It is the
most divine of all books: this estimate is general. I do not believe that
any writers have described religion like this man."
Dr. Abbadie always passed for one of the first preachers of his time.
His sermons discover order and fitness in their arrangement, and great
solidity and force of persuasion. They also bear obvious traces of a fine
and far-reaching imagination, and a great Master, who designs and executes with dignity and spirit. They are contained in three volumes
12mo., and are very rarely met with. It is much to be desired that they
were rendered available to the English reader by a translation. All
will concur in this opinion who read the following masterly production.
THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.
" And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son."-GENm,
rxii 10.
c" The wicked worketh a deceitful work."  This is a maxim of
the wise man, which we explained to you last Sunday. The rightl




i06                JAQUJES ABBADIE.
eous also sometimes does a work which deceives him. This is a
truth which we are going to exhibit to day. The wicked destroys
himself by the efforts which he employs to promote his own gratification. The believer attains an invaluable object when he seems to
act against his own interest. This, my brethren, is a truth which
the sacrifice of Abraham admirably confirms: here we find a spectacle of horror in appearance; and we see a holy spectacle in reality.
It seems, on beholding this object, as if hell must surely triumph,
and it is heaven which finally vanquishes. An action which we
should suppose all must detest, becomes the eternal object of their
admiration. The pulpits propose it for a model and an example. The
memory of it is celebrated in all ages; amu all believers, to the end
of time, must make it the perpetual subject oi conversation, the constant theme of their praise. It is, then, not without cause, that we
ask of you to apply yourselves to the consideration of this sublime
object. " And Abraham," says the sacred text, " stretched forth his
hand, and took the knife to slay his son."
It is useless to relate to you the account which is contained in the
preceding verses. It is a history too well known for any of you to
be ignorant of it. You know that God, wishing to try Abraham,
commanded him to take his son, and go and sacrifice him upon a
mountain, of which he would tell him. You know, also, that this
great and illustrious servant of God obeyed the voice of heaven, and
took two of his young men to attend him in his journey-that being
arrived near the place where his faith must be thus tried, he ordered
his servants to wait for him while he went forward accompanied
only by his son-that Isaac, little instructed in his design, asked
him —" Where is the lamb for the burnt-offering?"  To which Abraham  replied-" My son, God will provide Himself a lamb for a
burnt-offering;" which afterward occasioned this proverb known
among the Jews, "In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen;" and
on account of which this mountain was called after the event, by the
name of Moriah. You know that Abraham, having prepared the
altar and laid the wood in order, took the submissive, the obedient,
the innocent Isaac —that he bound him, and fastened him to the altar; and that finally he prepared to finish the most sorrowful and
painful sacrifice of which the imagination can conceive. It is this
last circumstance, my brethren, which supposes all the others, and
which constitutes the essential part of that sacrifice which we must
now  examine. "And Abraham," says the Scripture, "stretched
forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son."
Although these words are sufficiently plain in themselves, it may




THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.                   107
not be unprofitable to devote a portion of time to their contemplation; that we may understand the mysteries which they include, and
the fruits which we may derive from them. They are capable of
three different senses-a literal sense, a mystical sense, and a moral
sense. The first relates to the simple facts which they narrate; the
second includes the mysteries which they represent; the third com.
municates instruction to our consciences. The sacrifice of Abraham
is a singular and astonishing event, which is highly worthy of our
consideration. The sacrifice of Abraham is an admirable type of
the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which we can not describe to you under
too many images. The sacrifice of Abraham is a model from which
we may form the desire of sacrificing to God whatever is most dear
to us; a duty upon which we can not bestow too much attention.
These are the three parts of this discourse. The first will show you
Abraham lifting the knife to plunge it into the bosom of his son;
the second will show you God Himself, with uplifted arm, inflicting
His strokes upon His eternal Son, conformably to that ancient type;
the third will show you the believer holding in his hand the sword
of the Spirit, and sacrificing the dearest passions of his heart. You
will see in the first a material fire ready to consume Isaac, the burntoffering of Abraham; you will see in the second the fires of Divine
justice surrounding Jesus Christ, the burnt-offering of God; you
will see in the last the sacred fire of the Spirit of God, consuming
the vices and passions of our hearts, the burnt-offering of the believer.
O that our hearts, inflamed with this Divine fire, and burning
with zeal, may present themselves to-day as so many voluntary victims to that great God, who calls them to mortification and to repentance  O that the Father of believers may to-day add largely to the
number of His children, through the immolation of His Son! O
that grace -may render Him our Father, though the connection seems
to have ceased by nature I O that heaven, which arrested the arm
that Abraham had already lifted up with so much resolution and
courage, may to-day animate and sustain our arms, to enable us to sacrifice to God our sins and our vices I O that we may to-day become
so many innocent Isaacs I 0 that we may be changed into so many
courageous Abrahams! But this is not our work, it is the work of
God; let us beseech Him to animate and encourage us, that we may
sacrifice ourselves to Him, at the sight of the sacrifice of Abraham;
and that after being immolated, like Isaac, we may revive and be
able to glorify HTim in our bodies and our souls eternally. Amen.




108                JAQUES ABBADIE.
FIRST PART.-That we may properly ascertain the extent of
Abraham's virtue, we must consider the relative situation in which
he is placed at this critical period. Abraham is a nman; he is a
father; he adds faith to the promises which God has already giver
him, and he is filled with love and zeal for his God. The action
which he is called to perform, by an order from heaven, seems
o violate all these relations, and absolutely to annihilate these qualities. Abraham finds that all the affections of the man, all the tenderness of the father, the confidence and faith of the believer, the
love and zeal of a saint, are opposed to his design of offering up
his son. Humanity shudders at this bloody spectacle; nature abhors
it; faith seems to resist it. Zeal and love for God can not endure
the idea of it. Let us examine these four conflicts, which terminate
in four crowns for our triumphant patriarch.
Human nature beholds the ordinary death of man only with
pain; but it looks upon their bloody death with peculiar repugnance. That horror which our nature feels at human bloodshed, has
even attached a kind of infamy to the profession of those who execute the most righteous decrees, and who punish the guilty. How
much greater, then, is this infamy when innocent blood is spilled?
When any one, impelled by the violence of passion, commits a murder, he draws down upon himself the hatred of heaven and earth.
And what is it but murder to sacrifice a man in cold blood, after
three days' deliberation, after an example of obedience and constancy so rare as that of this man who presents himself to be immolated? Yet Abraham, a man, perceives nothing which does not
move him to compassion. Abraham, a father, feels nothing which
does not plead with him in favor of his son. His interest stands
opposed to this sorrowful sacrifice. He has been accustomed to view
Isaac as the support of his life, and he must now devote him to death.
His regard for the honor of his character can not allow him to con.
sent. The death of his son will fix an eternal stigma on his memory.
He has hitherto been an example of justice and of piety, beloved
by his neighbors, and respected by the nations among whom he
has sojourned; and this action is going to render him odious to the
whole world. He will draw down upon himself the hatred and imprecations of all mankind. All nations and all ages will regard
him as an assassin of his own son; as an enemy of his own bowels,
who pretended to murderous revelations, and a cruel piety, to commit a crime which nature and reason detest.
If these reasons are powerful, the voice of paternal affection,
which speaks from the bottom of his heart, is yet more so. It is




THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.                  109
difficult to conceive what must be the emotions of his breast, at the
sight of a victim so dear and so precious. This is the fruit of his
loins. He received him from heaven, by a miracle, in an advanced
old age, and when the years of Sara no longer allowed him to encour
age this hope. God had tried him by keeping him long in a state
of suspense. He had solemnized the birth of this son by public
marks of joy. He had abandoned Ishmael and his mother for the
love he bare to him. He had brought him up with tender and anxious care. His soul was cemented to that of his son, and he saw him.
self living again in his person. Isaac, under the blessing of heaven,
inherited the virtues of his father. Never was more respect and obedience discoverable than in this beloved son; and never did the
affection of a tender father appear to be so just and so reasonable.
In fine, the soul of Abraham is occupied only with thoughts of
his Isaac, and his heart is engaged only on schemes and projects of
paternal love. He would have trembled at the least danger menacing the life of his son, were not his heart encouraged by reflecting
on the promises of God. But he has no reason to apprehend that
any accident will take from him a child whom heaven has miraculously given. He employs himself in returning thanks to God for
a present which he values so highly; nor does he think he can sufficiently express his gratitude-when, suddenly, his ears are struck
with these words: "Abraham, take now thy son, thine only son, Isaac,
whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him
there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell
thee of."
If it is possible, brethren, only imagine the agitation and trembling of Abraham, on hearing these words, so extraordinary and so
unexpected! And permit me, for a moment, to give utterance in your
presence, to the heart of this patriarch. " Is it I," says he, "Am I
Abraham? Is that the voice of my God which I have heard?  Is
it my son that it demands of me? What! my son, my son Isaac, my
only son, my joy, my consolation-shall I see thee stretched upon a
pile? shall I bind thee myself and shall I imbrue my hands in thy
blood? Is rnis the fruit of thy obedience, and of the tenderness I
have had for thee? If it be necessary to make such a sacrifice, is
there no other priest to be.bund for the task than myself? Can
not my son die without being slain by the hand of his father / 0,
my son I must I mingle my tears with thy blood?  Must I tear out
my own bowels?  Is it my God who gives the command?  And
can God command me to commit a crime? Is not Isaac the foundation of His promises? Is it not in Isaac that I am the father of




110                JAQUES ABBADIE.
many nations?  Shall I immolate my son, who is a surety for
the fidelity of my God, and a precious pledge of the truth of his
promises? What will become of my faith? What will become of the
glory of God whom I serve? Will not the nations have reason to
blaspheme the name of that God?-That great and adorable name
will be held in execration by all the people of the earth. 0, if this
hould be the consequence, I would rather perish myself with my
son I Let my God lanch His thunders upon this mountain, and let
Him reduce me and my son to powder, rather than that my obedience should bring such dishonor upon His sacred name! I will
renounce myself, O God, but I can not renounce the zeal that animates me for Thy glory! I will sacrifice my son to Thee, I will sacrifice myself; but I can not sacrifice Thine interests, which are dearer
to me than my own life, and the life of my son I Thy glory restrains
me I Thy holy name arrests me!-But have I forgotten that I am but
dust and ashes, that I should speak thus to my Creator? His understanding is infinite, and mine is restricted. Isaac will receive
death from the hand of his father, but was it not from the bosom
of nothing and of death, that it pleased God to bring him into life?
Was he not conceived in a womb which old age had already deadened? Is God less able to raise him from the tomb, than He was to
draw him from nothing? Is it becoming in me to refuse my son to
that great God, to whom I am indebted for whatever I am, and
whatever I possess? If He will have the life of my son, is He not
sufficiently powerful to take it? and am I strong enough to prevent
Him?-No I no! I return from my wanderings. My faith can not
be more enlightened than that of Him who gave it birth; nor do I
know the interests of God better than God Himself. I will content
myself with glorifying Him by my obedience. Since He has raised
me above all men on the earth, by the blessings which He has conferred upon me, I must rise above the reasonings and common weaknesses of men, to do what He commands me. O God! I sacrifice to
Thee my son, in spite of nature, and the blood that curdles round
my heart! I immolate to Thee my joy and my hopes! It is my
heart that I offer to Thee, upon this gloomy pile! My heart is the
burnt-offering which I readily present to Thee, in spite of my weakness, and which I am about to slay!"
Thus we may suppose that Abraham spoke, while his arm was
already stretched out to slay his son. His faith and zeal overcame
every other sentiment. There were in Abraham two men, two understandings, two wills: the man of God and the natural man; the
old man and the new man; the will of the flesh and the will of the




THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.                    111
Spirit; reason and faith; the understanding of the man and the understanding of the believer. Two Abrahams combatted one against
the other; but Divine and heavenly principles raise him far above
those which are carnal and terrestrial. Grace triumphs over nature.
Abraham makes a double sacrifice to God: an exterior sacrifice
upon the mountain, and an interior sacrifice in the secret of his soul
In the one he takes his son and binds him' in the other he immolates to God the sentiments of his soul. Outwardly, it is Isaac who
is offered up; inwardly it is Abraham who suffers, and who sacrifices
himself. Abraham ascends upon a mountain to finish the exterior
sacrifice; the h: rb ot Abraham rises above all the obstacles of the
earth, above the weaknesses of flesh and blood, above temporal considerations; and ascends toward God to accomplish the interior sacrifice. The outward sacrifice is staid, only because the sacrifice
within is completed. Isaac rises only after faith has immolated Abraham. 0, my brethren, what greatness, what elevation! This is not
alone to obtain a victory over the weakness of his heart; but also a
triumph over the most legitimate feelings of nature. This is not
merely to overcome doubt and unbelief; but it is to combat a reason
which reposes upon the promises of God, and the assurance of faith.
This is not a conflict of the affections of man with the glory and the
interests of God; it is a conflict in which paternal tenderness, and
human affection, unite themselves with the glory and the interests of
the Deity.
Behold a sacrifice which includes all others I Behold a man who,
by one oblation, immolates all things to God! He sacrifices to Him
his wealth, which he desired only for the sake of Isaac; his joy, which
depended upon the preservation of his son; his hopes, which rested
upon him; his love and his tenderness, which were fixed upon this
son; his very reason, which could not comprehend the meaning of
this strange sacrifice. But he also sacrifices to Him something which
appears to be more considerable, and which has commonly been
dearer to the hearts of men. He immolates to Him a sc:';ment, to
which we have seen the most illustrious men sacrifice all things.
They have so ardently loved that glory and renown which accompany virtue, that they have renounced all other advantages to be able
to boast that they possessed this. But behold a man, who, in obedience to the orders of heaven, rejects, despises, and, in a certain sense,
tramples under foot that glory, that eclat, those fine names, those
honorable titles which accompany virtue! He assumes the appearance of a criminal; he is willing to pass for a murderer -the mur.
derer of his own son I It seems as if the love of God, which trans



112                JAQUES ABBADIE.
ports him, and the zeal which animates him, change the nature of
things upon this mountain. Sin appears to be no more sin. Murder
becomes legitimate, and crime demands praise I Why? because God
alone is his authority. He sees none but God; he hears none but
God; he recognizes neither vice nor virtue but in relation to God.
True elevation of an holy soul I Sublime impulse of a heart inspired with zeal for God! Human virtues are only efforts which
we make to sacrifice our passions and self-love, that we may exalt
ourselves-efforts which do not prevent us from returning again to
ourselves. But Abraham goes out of himself, and rises indeed to
God! Never did the Deity regard a sacrifice with so much pleasure
— never did heaven behold so delightful a spectacle I
But yet this is not the greatest object which our faith discovers
here. It is not the sacrifice of Abraham which demands our highest
admiration. There is yet something remaining, more worthy of his
attention and of ours. He is now upon mount Moriah; but let him
only lift up his eyes, and he shall behold the mount of Calvary.
His son will discover to him his Saviour. The arm which he has
lifted up, will show him the arm of God raised against the victim of
the human race; and he will find an adorable mystery which saves
him, in that strange sacrifice which has excited all the tender feelings
of his heart.
SECOND PART. —In fact, my brethren, the sacrifice of Abraham
has been handed down to us, as a great and splendid type of the
sacrifice of the cross. Abraham immolates his only son. God als(
sacrifices His only Son. You see on Moriah a murder in appearance, which conceals a sacrifice in effect. On the mount of Calvary
you find an oblation, where you only thought you beheld an execrable
murder. The victim of Abraham has received existence by a miracle;
Isaac was conceived in the womb of a barren woman. The victim
of God has come into the world by a birth yet more miraculous;
Jesus Christ was conceived in the womb of a virgin. Isaac is represented to us as an innocent and submissive victim, who does not
murmur even when his father stretches out his arm to sacrifice him.
Jesus Christ was " holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners;" He was "led as a lamb to the slaughter." Abraham has
already seized the knife, and is about to plunge it into the bosom of
his son, without having lost any of the tenderness which he has
always had for him. The Eternal Father lays His strokes upon His
Son, who has ever been the object of His delight, and in whom He
has always taken the highest pleasure. Isaac, the foundation (of the




THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.                    113
promises of God, on whose life depended the hopes of the Church,
and who seemed to include in himself all the benedictions of God, is
about to be sacrificed upon a mountain, and even by the order of
God. But what a wonder! Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the Redeemer
of Israel, He who must bring deliverance to Jacob, and who is only
sent into the world to free him from his sins —that Jesus who, so to
speak, holds in His hands all the graces and all the benedictions of
heaven-is about to suffer death; and even by the eternal counsel
of God!
Who is not surprised, also, at this event? Isaac, reviving, as it
were, after his sacrifice, and in a certain sense arising from under the
knife which his father had already suspended over him, leaves a
posterity numerous as the stars of heaven, and as the sand on the sealhore, in which are accomplished the promises and the oracles of God.
Tesus Christ, really restored to life after the sacrifice of His 2cddy,
and rising gloriously after His death, beholds an infinite number of
His children and disciples who follow Him, and whom He renders
partakers of all the graces, and of all the blessings of heaven; ac..
according to that ancient prediction, "When thou shalt make His
soul an offering for sin, He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His
days, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper in His hand."
Behold the agreement which subsists between these two sacrifices,
and which obliges us to consider one of these objects in the other,
as in the most perfect type. But behold the difference which distinguishes them, and which discovers to us how much the image
sinks below the original!
Go to Moriah, and you will find there a victim who follows the
priest without knowing, at first, whither he is going, and who asks his
father, " Where is the lamb for a burnt-offering?" Turn your eye
toward Calvary, and you will see Jesus Christ who exposes Himself
voluntarily to the sword of His Father, and who, perfectly acquainted
with His destiny, says to Him, " Lo, I come to do Thy will, O God."
There angels are sent from heaven to arrest the arm of Abraham;
Here devils issue from hell to hasten the death of Jesus Christ. In
the sacrifice of Isaac, the fire, the knife, the sacrificer are visible, but
the victim does not at first appear. In the sacrifice of Jesus Christ,
the victim appears first, but the knife, which is the sword of Divine
justice, and the fire, which consists in the ardor of His wrath and
judgments, are invisible, are only seen by the eyes of faith. Upon
the mountain of Moriah, Abraham sacrifices his son to his Master, to
his Benefactor, to his Creator, to his God. Upon the mount of Calvary, God immolates His Son for the salvation of men, who are
8




114                 JAQUES ABBADIE.
nothing but meanness, misery, and corruption.  There Abrahaml
renounces his blood and himself to obey a God who can amply
reward him for his loss. Here God gives what He esteems the most
precious to save men, who have not even the means of so mnuch as
expressing their gratitude, and who could not find it in their own
bosoms to do it. There we see one who is but dust and ashes, making a sacrifice to God of what he received from Hirn. Here we see
the Deity sacrificing the object of His eternal affection and delight-His treasure-His Son-for the salvation of dust and ashes.
In fine, in the one, is a man who is sacrificed to God —in the other,
is a God who is sacrificed for man.
Here flesh and blood must be silent, and cease to murmur. Abraham does infinitely less for God, than God had done for Abraham.
He presents his son-he binds to slay him. But God had already
slain His Son for the salvation of Abraham; for this, in the language
of Scripture, is the " Lamb slain before the foundation of the world."
Heaven has therefore prevented the earth. And does Abraham,
then, exalt himself by this action? No; he remains profoundly
abased before his Creator. Does he not attempt to justify himself
before God? No; but he lays himself under new obligations. He
receives all from God, when he seems to give up all to God; since the
father and the son, the priest and the victim, have no real existence
save in the regard that God already had to the sacrifice of the cross.
Had not God already sacrificed His Son for the salvation of Abraham, Abraham would not have been in a condition to sacrifice his
son to God. It is the efficacy of the blood which Jesus had shed,
that gives strength to Abraham, to raise the arm that he may shed
his own blood. The virtue and the zeal which are so illustriously
displayed upon the mountain of Moriah, have their source and substance upon the mount of Calvary. Thus, my brethren, the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is found in the sacrifice of Isaac; the sacrifice
of Isaac in its accomplishment in its type, is found in the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. From the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, proceed
the strength and virtue which inspire Abraham; from the sacrifice of Abraham, proceeds the light which discovers the sacrifice
of Jesus Christ. But both must be found in the sacrifice of our
hearts, which is their legitimate and natural end.  This is the
third object of our meditation, with which we purpose to finish this
discourse.
THIRD PART.-It is very proper that we should admire the two
treat objects which we have just set before you; but permit us to say




THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.                  115
that this admiration will be wholly useless, unless it be accompanied
with the practice of those duties which these truths enforce upon
us. The great point is, to draw from them those results which
may influence our lives. We must now, therefore, dwell for a few
moments, upon the sacrifice of ourselves. In effect, the words of
our text oblige us to draw four conclusions. Abraham immolates
to God his only-begotten son; we ought, then, to sacrifice to God
whatever is most dear and precious to us. Abraham hears neither
the murmurs nor opposition of flesh and blood; he does not even
assign any of those reasons which seem so plausible, and which
naturally strike the mind, to justify him in dispensing with the
commandment of God. We ought, then, to renounce all those vain
reasonings and pretexts, which flesh and blood employ, to prevent
us from doing whatever God commands. Abraham loses no time.
No sooner does he hear the voice of God directing him, than he sets
out on his journey; and he binds his son immediately when he has
reached the destined spot. We ought, then, to render to God a
prompt obedience. We must not look behind, but we must glorify
God in promptly sacrificing our vices. In fine, the holy patriarch
neither trembles nor wavers when he is commanded to sacrifice his
son; he stretches out his son, and seizes the knife. We ought not,
then, to content ourselves with a few feeble and imperfect dispositions
of a pious tendency, which we may feel within us. We must neither
delay nor dissemble, nor lose our courage, when we are required to
renounce our vices and to sacrifice our passions. Four truths with
which our text furnishes us, for the instruction of our consciences;
and upon which we shall do well to meditate.
1. It appears that the commandment which God gave to Abraham,
was a mysterious commandment. In exacting this sublime effort of
virtue from the father of the faithful, he seems to have described the
kind of sacrifice which He should demand from believers in future
times. Abraham was obliged to testify his faith by the sacrifice of
his son; true believers, under the Gospel, are obliged to testify their
faith by renouncing themselves. Jesus Christ, the teacher sent from
God, instructs them that they must "hate their own souls" for His
sake; that they must " pluck out their eyes and cut off their hands,"
to enter into the celestial kingdom to which He calls them. It is
true these words are figurative; but they are not the less forcible
on that account, since the Son of God considered this truth of so
much importance, that He chose to employ the most lively expressions to render it intelligible.
But to cnufine ourselves to the ideas in our text, it is proper to




116                 JAQUES ABBADIE.
remark that we all carry about with us an Isaac in our hearts; or
rather, that there are three Isaacs in every one of us. There is an
Isaac of sin; an Isaac of nature; and an Isaac of grace. The first we
must every where, and at all times sacrifice to God; the second we
are not called to immolate but in certain circumstances; and the
third God requires that we always spare.
If you are anxious to know what is this Isaac of sin, ask your
healt, what is the vice which it loves? It is that criminal pleasure
which voluptuousness promises you. It is that cruel satisfaction
which vengeance gives you. It is that malignant joy which the misfortunes of others produce in your hearts, and of which you dare not
make a public avowal. It is whatever gives a relish to slander. It
is that fatal and worldly joy which you derive from the human passions. It is the pleasure which avarice, pride, and ambition confer. It is, in fine, the fruit which you think that you derive from
all the sins that you commit. Can we hesitate to sacrifice to God
this Isaac of corruption, when we see Abraham offering up his Isaac
-that Isaac the object of his tenderness-that Isaac whom he
loves?  Shall we love vice more than Abraham loved his son?  If
this patriarch binds an Isaac whom heaven had given him, shall we
fear to sacrifice an Isaac which hell has placed in our hearts? Can
we contemplate Abraham lifting up his arm to destroy the work of
God, at the Divine command, and hesitate one moment about destroying the work of the devil, when God so often exhorts us to it?
Abraham sacrifices an Isaac who is the foundation of all the promises
of God. And shall not we put that Isaac to death, who is the foundation of all His threatenings? Abraham is going to slay him from
whom must proceed salvation and blessings to the people. Antl
shall not we sacrifice that idol, which engenders only misery and
death?
And, my brethren, we must make a still greater sacrifice. We must
sacrifice to God that Isaac of nature-that innocent Isaac whom we
love without crime, but whom we can not refuse to God without ingratitude. There are three occasions on which God demands from
you this sacrifice. They are the times of sickness; the season of adversity; and the day of death. In sickness we must sacrifice to God
the complaints and murmurings of human nature; the hope of health
which can never be re-established; the sight of friends which are
about to be taken away from us. In adversity we must sacrifice to
Him the good things which we justly possessed, and which we pos.
sess no more. Finally, in death, we must make a voluntary offering Mf all that we are tc leave behind us. We must offer to God




THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM.                 117
relations, friends, estates, riches, grandeur, the care of our children,
the preservation of our families, father and mother, and whatever
we possess. For, doubt not, my brethren, that we can make a present to God of things that we no longer possess. We can offer Him
whatever we lose, without fearing that He will refuse it. We can
sacrifice to Him things which are not in our power. This is the ex..ellence and the wonderful advantage of religion.
We give to God whatever we cheerfully relinquish for His sake;
and hence we place ourselves above the necessity which impels us.
But this can only be done, by early acquiring an holy habitude of detaching ourselves from the world, and fixing our confidence upon
the spiritual good which God has promised. This sacrifice must be.
gin during life, and terminate at death. We must incessantly sacrifice ourselves to God; by submitting without complaint to the
sacred orderings of Providence; by acquiescing in His good pleasure, in all things; and by humbly receiving the good and the evil,
which in His widom He is pleased to dispense to us; being always
in that disposition which led Job of old formerly to say, " The
Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of
the Lord." Finally, we must renounce our reason, our desires, and
our feelings, when the renunciation of them is requisite to the advancement of His glory.
2. But perhaps you will say, How can we rise thus above ourselves? Are we Abrahams, that we should sacrifice ourselves to
God?  "Are we Abrahams I" And what matters it, my brethren,
that we are not? Are we under less obligations to God than that
ancient patriarch? Are our means of knowledge less than his?
Abraham performs this action without an example; but we have the
example of Abraham before our eyes. Abraham only knew the
Deity through the mysterious shadows and vails with which He
then covered Himself; but " We all with open face behold as in a
glass the glory of the Lord." Abraham had no clear and distinct
ideas of the salvation which we have obtained through the blood of
our Lord; but we see the life, glory, and immortality which are
brought to light by Jesus Christ.
Shall our zeal, then, grow colder, because grace "Hath appeared
unto us?" Shall our gratitude diminish, because the heavens are
opened to us?  Shall we discover such weakness, because we are
not solitary as Abraham was, but are " Encompassed with so great a
cloud of witnesses" who encourage us by their example, and whom
we have seen pass before us-martyrs for God in this career of




118                 JAQUES ABBADIE.
blood and tears?  Shall we no more sacrifice ourselves for God,
since the Son of God has sacrificed Himself for us?
Or rather is there less necessity now to immolate to God our affections and vices, than Abraham formerly had to sacrifice his son?
Is the Voice from heaven now silent which formerly spake to this
patriarch? No, it speaks to us in a variety of ways, all clear and
intelligible. Do you su'ppose that the oracle of Abraham does not
address us? God speaks to us by the mouth of the prophets; He
speaks to us by the eternal word. He speaks to us by the wounds
of His Son, which are so many mouths to teach us our duty. He
descends in tongues of fire upon the Apostles, to speak to us by
their ministry. Every day He employs the voice of His servants to
speak to our consciences; and instead of one command which He addressed formerly to Abraham, He addresses to you an infinity of exhortations, and reiterates, incessantly, in your ears, His command of
death to sin, and renunciation of the world. How blind are we, my
brethren, if we yet find it difficult to understand the will of this
great God, who still speaks to us, and if we do not yet know that
we must take up our cross and follow Him; that He calls us all to
die, to hate ourselves, and to glorify Him by a prompt renunciation
of the desires of the flesh, and the delights of sin I
My dear brethren, we are sufficiently acquainted with our duty;
but the self-love and cupidity which enslave us, find a thousand pretexts to prevent us from rendering to God the obedience which we
owe to Him. "I must sacrifice my resentments to God; I know
it;" —we say in the recesses of our hearts-" but I am cruelly insulted; my honor is at stake." As if in making a sacrifice to God
we must give up nothing! "I must relinquish this object of sensuality and mirth; but the inclination which draws me toward it is
strong; I can not forsake it."  "I must renounce the world; but I
must also imitate its customs, and live as others."  "I must follow
the Saviour who proposes Himself as an example to us, that we
should tread in His steps; but shall I oppose commonly received
practices, and expose myself to the shafts of satire and of slander,
by an unusual course of conduct?" Vain pretexts of flesh and blood I
Ridiculous and miserable evasions of an heart possessed with the
world and its vanities I Can you compare these empty reasonings with
those specious and plausible pretexts which presented themselves to
the mind of Abraham? Had he wished to dispense with the obligation of obeying his God, heaven and earth, nature and religion, furnished him with abundant excuses; but he despises every thing to
obey promptly the voice of his God, who gives him the command.




TIE SACRIFICE OF ABRAh &M.                 119
The love of the world which is in us, and the habit which we
cherish of warmly interesting ourselves in the affairs of this life, determine our minds to take the part of the world, and to seek for
false reasons to dispense with banishing it from our hearts. But
were we accustomed to the long and holy habit of loving our God
more than all the objects of this life, as Abraham was, we should
take the part of God against the world, without listening to the language of that impostor, who only makes use of our weakness, our
hesitations, and our delays, to vanquish us.
3. If Abraham had indulged, at first, too much complaisance for
the feelings of flesh and blood, and the tender movements of his
heart, which pleaded with him in behalf of Isaac, he would have
fallen from one degree of weakness to another, and the sight of his
son would have caused the knife to drop from his hand: and then his
purpose to obey God, and the efforts he had employed, would have
been of no avail; since he must inevitably have been guilty of rebellion and disobedience in the sight of God. Thus, my brethren,
let us beware that we cherish none of those cowardly weaknesses,
or those criminal condescensions to our passions, which leave vice to
live and reign in our hearts. Let us arm ourselves with a holy
severity in this respect; and above all, let us hasten to profit by the
good dispositions which God produces in our hearts, if it is true that
we are to-day moved by that great object which now strikes our
eyes. No hesitation  no delay!-to-day-at this hour-this moment,
let us hear the voice of God, let us not harden our hearts! Let us
imitate the holy patriarch in the fervor and promptitude of his zeal 
Let us hasten to sacrifice to God our pride, our avarice, our voluptuousness, our ambition, our slander, our resentments, our doubts,
our complainings!
O how pleasant an odor will this sacrifice send forth before Gods
who regards us to-day, and who perceives the bottom of our thoughts
and hearts! 0 how will our souls be filled with consolation and
joy, if, while we hear the voice of God, and faith transports us to the
mount Moriah, we sacrifice ourselves to God by a sincere repentance, by a happy separation from whatever engages our affections
and by a prompt renunciation of whatever charms our hearts!
4. Let us not fear to renounce whatever is dear to us; and be
well assured that the depravity of our hearts is so great, that if we
wish to know what are our most fatal attachments, we have only to
examine what those are, wLich inspire us with most joy and pleasure.
Sin, in almst every case, pleases us in proportion as it is danger




120                 JAQUES ABBADIE.
ous; and we may say in almost every case that it is dangerous in
proportion as it pleases us.
Do hot, then, spare a vice because it is the delight of your heart.
Abraham did not so reflect respecting Isaac; and why should you
respecting sin? Whatever in your souls opposes itself to the glory
of God, destroy it; annihilate it; sacrifice it to Him who demands it.
Seize the victim I Grasp the knife I Boldly strike the blow I Expect
not that heaven will send you angels to interrupt this sacrifice I They
will be sent only to exhort you to finish it I And heaven, and this
pulpit, will never address to you any other language!
To-day, then, " present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." And be certain
that this happy annihilation of yourselves, will give birth to the
most lively hopes. You will ascend toward God, while you sacrifice all things to His glory; and God will descend toward you, as He
came in olden time to Abraham; and will say to you-" Now I
know that thou fearest God!" To this great God, the Father, Son,
and Holy Spirit, be honor, glory, majesty, and dominion, forever and
ever  Amen.




DISCOURSE FIFTY.SECOND.
DANIEL DE SUPERV I LE.
SUPERVILLE was born at Anjou, in the month of August, 1657, and
educated in the college at Saumur, and at Geneva. His first pastoral
charge, of a little more than two years, was at Loudun, where he acquired so much reputation as to incur the malice of the enemies of
Protestantism, who endeavored in vain, by bringing him to a trial for
sedition, at Paris, to shake his faith. At the revocation of the Edict
of Nantes, he fled to Holland and took up his residence at Rotterdam;
where he continued to exercise the functions of a good minister of Jesus
Christ, till prevented by the advance of age. He died the 9th of June,
1728.
Superville was ranked among the most eminent ministers of his day.
His powers of argument and effective appeal were very great. His
printed sermons were widely circulated, and generally passed rapidly
through several editions, upon their appearance.  The criticism  of
Doddridge is well known: "As to the French sermons, I never met
xwth any of them that are to be compared with those of M. de Superville, the Protestant minister at Rotterdam. He especially excels in
the beauty of his imagery, descriptions, and similies; and has some of
the most pathetic expostulations I ever saw." A few of his sermons
were translated into English, and published, many years ago, in London. In the French they fill four octavo volumes.
CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATIOlq.
"I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father, but
by Mle."-JoHN, xiv. 6.
Men are the subjects of three very ancient evils; sin, ignorance,,
and death. When I survey all the religions which have appeared
in the world all the sects of philosophers, all the arts which have been




122            DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
invented, to find remedies against these three evils, I seem to be.
hold human nature in the situation of those diseased persons, who,
among certain nations, used to be placed at the doors of their houses,
that every passerby might contribute his advice or miedicine for
their cure. For want of skillful physicians, and a solid and regular
practice, to which they were strangers, all were in the habit of prescribing for their neighbors, and each individual communicated the
result of his own experience.
But what multitudes passed by us, and considered our maladies,
before one was found able to cure them! Philosophers came with
their pretended discoveries, their counsels and their precepts. They
proposed to dissipate our gloom, and to restore us to happiness by
reclaiming us to virtue. They gave us nothing but words. They
wrote fine books, and made large promises to our wants, but were
not able to relieve them. They called upon man to arise; and they
gave him no strength to obey the exhortation. They called upon
him to look; and they afforded him only a transient, glimmering
light, insufficient for the discernment of objects. They dissuaded
from the fear of Death; but they never disarmed him, or supplied
any means of escaping from his power. The world with its policy
and prudence, the arts it has invented, its power and protection, has
never been able to effect more than a temporary oblivion of these
evils. It has left them as great and incurable as ever. All the religions which appeared before Jesus Christ, were equally unsuccessful
in their attempts to remedy them. Most of them established the
dominion of ignorance and vice, instead of delivering from their
power; and they vainly attempted to purify their votaries and
appease the divinity, by their sacrifices, victims, and lustrations.
Moses himself and the law which he promulgated, only declared —
We are not " He that is to come; look ye for another!" They only
made the patient more sensible of his disease and more ardently desirous of its cure.
At last JEsus CHRIST came, and with Him every thing came.
Of Him may be truly affirmed what the philosopher caused to be
falsely inscribed on his school. "Here is a remedy for all evils."
Yes, Christians, in Him we find a remedy against sin, ignorance,
and death; and in vain would you hope to find one, except in Him
and His religion. He declares, "I am the way, and the truth, and
the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by Me."
You must not expect us to say every thing that might be advanced on this comprehensive text. These few compendious words
comorise all the glory of our Mediator, all the benefits He bestows




CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATTON.    123
upon us, all the advantages we derive from His alliance. And who
could fully develop all these things in the short period allotted to
this exercise? We shall only endeavor to exhibit the most essential and important lessons which the passage contains.
The text naturally divides itself into two propositions, very
closely connected, and mutually explanatory of each other. The
first shows what titles Jesus Christ assumes with reference to
us. "I am," says He, "the way, and the truth, and the life."  This
we shall endeavor to elucidate in our first part. Then we shall examine the second proposition; which shows that this great Saviour,
to the exclusion of every other, is our only conductor to the Father.
"No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me." The explication
and proof of this important truth will form our second part.
I. To develop and elucidate the meaning of these magnificent
words, " I am the way, and the truth, and the life," we shall do two
things. First, we shall consider the three appellations generally, and
shall offer some useful remarks on the union, extent, and force, of
the three connected together. Then we shall consider them separately, and, as far as we can, shall exhibit the meaning, beauty, and
truth, of each of these glorious titles.
Our first observation must relate to the occasion of this discourse.
Jesus Christ was about to leave His disciples. All the grief and
terror which the fear of a melancholy desertion could excite in the
mind, the Apostles felt; and amid the trouble into which sorrow
had plunged them, they no longer knew what they said, or remembered things with which they ought to have been most deeply impressed. He had spoken of his absence as a journey on which he
was going to prepare a place for them, after which he would come
to them again. Upon this, Thomas said: "Lord, we know not
whither Thou goest, and how can we know the way?" Jesus replied: " I am the way, and the truth, and the life." You say that
you know not the way to follow Me, and I am Myself the way by
which you must go to the Father; a way that you ought to know,
and it is unnecessary to seek for another. "Because I have said these
things to you, sorrow hath filled your heart."  But if "ye believe in
God, believe also in Me." " I am the truth." Confide in My promises; " I will come again, and receive you unto Myself." You fear
the world and its persecutions; My approaching death terrifies you;
and you tremble for yourselves. " I am the life." I will come again;
I shall rise from the dead on the third day. "Because I live, ye
shall live also." He that loseth his life for My sake, shall find it
again in Me and by Me. For by Me is the only way of access to the




124            DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
glory of the Father. This is the general sense and scope of the
whole text.
Secondly, whether you take these expressions separately, or join
them together and consider them as exemplifying a figure very
common in the style of the Scriptures, as well as of profane authors —
by which " the way, the truth, and the life" will be understood as
lenoting the true way to life, or the way which leads to life, or the
true and living way-in every form, the proposition is true, and the
sense just and certain. To affirm separately, that Jesus Christ is
the way, that He is the truth, that He is the life, or conjointly to
affirm that He is the true way to life, is equally correct.
Thirdly.-That the language of Jesus Christ is evidently figurative, can not be doubted. Here you perceive how very familiar
and common the use of figurative terms was with Him, even when
he was conversing with His dearest disciples with a view to their
instruction and consolation. Such modes of expression serve to convey an idea with more vividness and power, and in fewer words, than
could be done by simple terms. There is something at once far
more concise and energetic in Jesus's calling Himself " the way, the
truth, and the life," than if He had simply described Himself as the
guide to Heaven, the teacher of truth, and the giver of life.
Fourthly, let us observe, that in order to a correct explication
of these titles which the Saviour assumes, they must be applied to
Him in one and the same point of view. He is " the truth and the
life," in the same character in which He is "the way."  He is the
way, considered as Mediator, God and Man, who not only has united
in His person two natures infinitely different, but by the actions of
His ministry has reconciled heaven and earth. When He says, in
the next clause, "No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me,"
He speaks of Himself as Mediator. It is in this character, therefore,
that He also considers Himself when He says, "I am the truth and
the life."  Though it may be truly affirmed that He is "the truth
and the life," essentially and of Himself; eternal truth, uncreated
wisdom, original life, necessarily existing, without beginning and
without end, who gives to all things whatever they have of subsist.
ence, life and motion: yet it appears evident to me, that this is not
what He intends to assert in this place; but that He contemplates
rather what He is with relation to us, than what He is in Himself
by His divine nature; in a word, that He speaks of Himself as Mediator.
It must also be remarked, that though this description exhibits
Jesus Christ in the capacity of Mediator, yet the titles and qualities




CHRIST THE ONLY WAY'I OF SALVATION.    125
here mentioned are such as no mere man could ever arrogate to
himself. It could never be said of any mere man, that he is the truth
and the life, that He is the source of those qualities, or possesses them
in a supreme degree.
No one of the Evangelists gives us so sublime a representation
of Jesus Christ and His divinity, as John. He has carefully collected
certain discourses of the Son of God which are altogether divine
and taking the language of the Saviour as his model, he adopts, both
in his gospel and his epistles, whenever he speaks of the Lord Jesus,
a style peculiar to himself. Yes, my brethren, in these words, "I
am the way, and the truth, and the life," we must acknowledge the
voice of God, and not of man. What mall ever spake like this
Man? Do you not perceive in His language a character of greatness, which confirms what we believe, that the Lord Jesus is both
God and Man in one person?  "I am," he says: that is, " I am He
who is, and who was, and who is to come:" who is the way, who was
the expected truth, and who will be the life to all the faithful. When
men say, I am; if they mean to do justice, they will say, with
Abraham, " I am but dust and ashes;" with David, "I am a stranger
and a sojourner, as all my fathers were;" with Peter, " I am a sinful
man."  This is all that man can boast of in himself. He is mere
dust, weakness, death; but Jesus Christ is "the life." Man is a
traveler who has lost his road; but Jesus Christ is A" the way." Man
is ignorance and error; but Jesus Christ is " the truth."
These words also exhibit a character of greatness, inasmuch as
Jesus Christ is not afraid of declaring openly and freely what He is.
Men in general wish others to say what they are, in preference to
saying it themselves, from a fear that none will believe them. Their
vanity is fond of concealing itself under the appearances of an ingenuous and delicate humility from which their pride hopes to derive
some new advantage. False modesty! which endeavors to steal the
esteem of mankind by external deceptions. But Jesus Christ seeks
not these stratagems. He is above our weakness and fears, and the
artifice of our self-love. The ancient heathens deemed it a noble
sincerity, characteristic of true heroes, to profess ingenously what
they thought of themselves. It is far more interesting to the salvation of men, that Jesus Christ dissembles not what He is, but declares His glory and His benefits. Therefore, without any circum-:-cution, He affirms on this occasion, " I am the way, and the truth,
and the life."
Lastly, we must not forget to remark what a great difference there
is between the titles claimed or accepted by men, and those which




126             DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
are assumed by Jesus Christ. The titles of men have many faults
the three following are very common.
In the first place, they are marks of weakness of mind, of vanity
and pride, rather than proofs of true glory and virtue. One is de.
nominated Good, another Magnificent, August, Merciful, Bold,
Wise, Just, Great. But even in cases where the persons honored
with any of these fine names, are not wholly destitute of some correspondent virtues, those virtues are so small that all we can consider such titles as implying is, that in certain individuals there is a
little good and much evil, little virtue and great pride.
In the second place, is it not a great fault in men to prefer titles
which express power and greatness to those which indicate goodness
and usefulness? Yet nothing is more common. Intoxicated with
a false idea of glory, they scarcely ever make it consist in virtues that
are peaceable, useful, beneficent, adopted to promote the public repose. The surnames of Great, Conqueror, and Invincible are more
acceptable to them than those of Good, Just, and Father of the people.
In the last place, so far are these surnames from presenting an idea
of any good, that most of them have no foundation but in great evils.
Nothing less than the infliction of calamity upon some provinces,
and the ruin of many thousands of families, is necessary to constitute
a claim to the title of Conqueror. Thus one has been named Poliorcetes, or a Taker of Cities; another Asiaticus, or Africanus, from the
country which submitted to his arms, or was the scene of his warlike achievements; another The Great, or The Victorious.
Proud mortals, efface all your titles I Jesus Christ is the only one
who deserves to wear them I In Him all names are inferior to the
realities  He is the only being who possesses perfections without
mixture or shade I whose glory is in harmony with the happiness of
all  whose virtues are great in themselves and beneficial to mankind!
Thus it is with relation to us, and in the capacity of our Mediator
and Head, that He here denominates Himself " the way, and the
truth, and the life."
From these general remarks let us proceed to a more particular
examination of each of these expressions by itself. Jesus Christ is
" the way to the Father."  Is He so, simply because He teaches by
His doctrine what we ought to believe and to practice? One interpreter refers not only this first title, but the others also, exclusively
to the doctrine of Christ, and tells us that our Lord often affirms of
His person what properly belongs to His doctrine, and that He employs substantives instead of adjectives. But we consider this interpreter as weakening the force of the terms, and diminishing the glory




oCRIST THE ONLY WAY OF S ULFATION.    127
of our Saviour, who is in Himself " the. way to the Father," not only
by His doctrine but by His merit: not only as our prophet, but as
our priest.
First, then, I observe that Jesus Christ is "the way," beyond
all doubt, by His doctrine and His precepts. By the revelation of
His Gospel, He has taught us what we ought to believe concerning God, and what we " must do to be saved."  But this sense is far
from reaching all the extent of the expression-" I am the way." It
must be added, in the second place, that beside doctrines, precepts,
and promises, Christ has also given us examples. His actions have
marked out a road in which we ought to walk. He has " left us an
example, that we should follow His steps." This sense, however,
still fails of exhausting all the force of the Saviour's language. In
the third place, He is " the way" by his merit: and this is certainly
what He principally intended here, where He was evidently speaking
of his death. Reflect, my brethren, on the state of sin in which
were, and which caused a separation between God and us. Reflect
on the distance between sinful man and a righteous God: and if you
inquire how sinners may draw nigh to God, listen to Jesus Christ,
who informs you, " I am the way." He reopens the communication between God and man, as we shall see more at large in the
sequel of our discourse. His merit alone has appeased Divine justice. Without Him we should have no right to communion with
God. He is also the channel by which our prayers, and acts of piety,
ascend to God, and the gifts of God descend to us.
The second expression, " I am the truth," in like manner, possesses considerable force. Its meaning is equally noble and just.
It signifies, in the first place, that our Lord is eminently true, "the
faithful and true witness;" true in His promises and threatenings;
true in His oracles; true in His doctrine and the mysteries He has
revealed. Placed in opposition to all men, Jesus Christ is the infallible teacher. He "came into the world to bear witness unto
the truth." His " word is truth."
But not only is He the great teacher of truth, He is the truth
itself; because in His person and in His office of Mediator, He is the
object of our knowledge, the end of the law, and the center of religion. As God and Man united, as God manifest in the flesh, He
is the truth of the oracles-which He verified; the truth of the
promises-which He fulfilled; the truth of the figures-of which
He was the archetype; the truth of the ceremonies and of the whole
law-of which He was the end. "Christ is the end of the law for
righteousness to every one that believeth." " The law was given




[28             DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ." Without
Him we could know but little of the justice and mercy of God, the
extent of His perfections, the secrets of His providence. Without
Him, the fall of man, the permission of sin, the preservation of a
sinful world, the choice of the Jewish people among all nations
while all others were abandoned, and the miracles wrought in favor
of that nation, would be enigmas impossible to be deciphered.
How much might be said on this part of the subject, if we had
time to dwell upon it! The heathens complained that truth was hidden in a well. In Jesus Christ it has emerged from its concealment.
He has "revealed things" which were in the bosom of the Father,
which " eye" had " not seen, nor ear heard, neither" had " entered
into the heart of man." He is Himself the principal subject of all
revelation: Him the prophets announced before He came; Him the
apostles preached after His appearance. "This is life eternal," to
"know Thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast
sent." Let us further observe, that He is the source of all revelation,
not only by the things which He Himself taught in addition to the
light of nature and the institutes of Moses, but also by those which
the apostles taught after Him. For by the Spirit whom He sent,
were discovered to them the secrets of the Father. What He delivered He drew from His own stores; and it was from His stores
that the Holy Spirit drew those communications with which He inspired the apostles. " Therefore," said Jesus, "He shall take of
Mine, and shall show it unto you."
The third title, " I am the life," is not inferior to the other two,
we may affirm that each of the titles which Christ assumes, and this
among them, has an infinity of meaning: but I shall confine myself
to the following summary. He is " the life" in opposition to three
kinds of death, spiritual death or a death in sin, corporeal death,
and eternal death. In opposition to spiritual death "Christ is our
life," because after having justified us by His blood, He raises us to
newness of life by the grace of His Spirit. He sanctifies and makes
us new creatures; He quickens us, and enables us to walk in the
paths of righteousness; He nourishes and confirms us, and leads us
from strength to strength. He is the author, principle, and source
of our spiritual life, by the merit of His death, the precepts of His
word, and the energy of the Spirit. In opposition to corporeal death,
"Christ is our life," because He will raise our bodies from the dust.
"I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in Me, though
he were dead, yet shall he live."  He reigns over our tombs and will
one day command the earth to give up her dead. " I know that my




CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATION.    129
Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the
earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in
my flesh shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine
eyes shall behold." Lastly, in opposition to eternal death,' Christ
is our life," because He has delivered us from hell, merited heaven
and procured eternal life, into the possession of which He will
solemnly introduce us after the resurrection, when He will say
" Come, ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared foi
you."
I can not refrain from remarking further, that in the term " life"
there is a twofold opposition to all other religions, and to their
authors. Every where, except in Jesus Christ, you find nothing but
death and a curse. Death in paganism whose very gods were mortal;
death in human traditions; death even in the law of Moses, which
condemned for the violation of a single point. But the religion of
Christ exhibits truth and life. Compare Christ with all other founders of religions. Which of them has received the keys of the tomb?
Which of them has asserted an empire over death? Have they
given life to their followers? Have they raised one person from the
dead? Ah I so far from giving life to others, they could not preserve their own! The Zoroasters, the Orpheuses, the Numas, the
Mahammeds are dead; they are neither life nor living. How long
have dust and worms evinced the fraud of these impostors, and their
dry bones admonished mankind: "Mortals, expect not from us the
life which you seek I" Moses is dead, and his sepulcher is not less
real because it is concealed. But do you doubt whether Christ is
" the life?" He is risen again, and ascended into heaven I " He
was dead, but is alive again; and behold He is alive for evermore!"
Death and the grave will confess that their bonds were too feeble to
detain " the Prince of Life." Enough has been said to evince our
Saviour to be " the way, the truth, and the life."
But why does not Jesus content Himself with assuming one title r
Why does He accumulate three? His design is to exhibit Himself
as our all; our way in which we ought to walk, our truth to enlighten our path, our life to quicken us, to sustain in our journey,
and to crown us at the end. He connects the three titles, because
He can not be divested of three qualities. And without possessing
them, He could never bestow upon us a full and complete salvation.
Without truth, He could not be our way to life. If He were not our
way, He would cease to be our truth and our life. If He were not
able to give me life, I should no longer regard Him as my way and
my truth.
9




130             DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
You all know that under the law there were three classes of leadt
ers; kings at the head of the state, priests at the head of the Chuich,
and prophets who, on some extraordinary occasions, reformed both
the Church and the state. But Jesus Christ with great advantage
sustains all these characters. The kings, far from being " the way
and the truth," often caused the people to err, being themselves led.stray by their idolatries or vices. The priests also did not always'keep knowledge;" and their priesthood was only a shadow of that
of Christ. The prophets always spoke of an obscure futurity; they
scarcely showed the truth but as concealed, and delivered by degrees
an imperfect revelation. " God spake by them at sundry times and
in divers manners." But Jesus Christ, a king always true, good,
and powerful; an eternal priest, always "able to save to the uttermost them that come unto God by Him;" a Prophet always endued
with the Spirit without measure, the original source of light, possessing truth of Himself and in His own stores; was, is, and ever will
be, " the way, and the truth, and the life" to all the faithful. The
patriarchs had no other. Christ is " the same yesterday, and to-day,
and forever." " Abraham saw his day and was glad." The
prophets knew no other: "to Him" they all "gave witness, that
through His name whosoever believeth in Him, shall receive remission of sins."  The Apostles taught no other; they desired "to
know none but Jesus Christ." We need no other; for " it hath
pleased the Father, that in Him should all fullness dwell; and of
His fullness have all we received, and grace for grace." No other
can supply our necessities. He Himself declares that "no man
cometh to the Father but by Him." This is to form our second part.
II. What the Son of God had asserted in a figurative manner in
he first proposition, He expresses more literally in the second. He
extends and reasserts it, to the exclusion of every other: I am the
only way; there is no other to go to the Father: I am the only
truth; it can not be found out of Me: I am the only life; no one
can be made a partaker of the life to come, but by Me. You perceive at once the universality of the proposition: " No man cometh
unto the Father, but by Me:" there is no other way of salvation for
the Jew or the Gentile, for the learned or the ignorant. Jesus Christ
might be " the way, the truth, and the life;" yet it might not necessarily be concluded that there was no other way: it might be asked,
Can not all this be found in others? Hear His answer: "I am the
door: and all that ever came before Me, all that enter not by Me,
are thieves and robbers: by Me if any man enter in, he shall be




CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATION.    131
saved." " I am the light of the world; he that followeth Me shall
not walk in darkness: whosoever believeth" not " on Me abideth in
darkness."  " He that gathereth not with Me, scattereth abroad."" I AM THE WAY:" " without Me ye can do nothing." "I AM THE
TRUTH:" "every one that is of the truth, heareth My voice."  " I
AM THE LIFE:" "he that believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet
shall he live:" "he that believeth not, shall not see life; he is condemned already." These declarations both confirm and illustrate
the truth contained in our text.
But for its further explanation let us observe that "to come to
the Father" signifies in general, to have communion with God, to
approach Him in the ways of religion, to be united to Him by grace
and by glory. "To come to the Father," is to know Him as He
chooses to be known, to believe in Him, and to pay Him acceptable
services. " To come to the Father," is to be reconciled to God, and
in consequence of that reconciliation, to approach Him with confidence, by acts of faith, love, and piety. Lastly, "to come to the
Father," is to enter into His glory, to partake of His blessedness.
"He that cometh to God," says the Apostle, "must believe that He
is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him."
And the solemn words with which Jesus Christ will introduce us
into His glory, will be, " Come ye blessed of My Father." So when
the Saviour says, "No man cometh unto the Father, but by Me;"
He means to exhibit Himself as the only medium by which it is
possible to have saving communion with God, either in grace or in
glory.
In proof of this great and- important truth, we remark that
Jesus Christ is the only one who has removed the obstacles which
on the part of God opposed our reunion to Him.
The first obstacle was that of immutable justice and the state
into which we had fallen by sin. God is necessarily just, and we
were deserving of punishment. God is the supreme Governor of
the world and the Preserver of order; we were violators of order
and natural rectitude. How could the Lord leave guilt unpunished,
and make a rebellious creature happy   "Shall not the Judge of
all the earth do right?" It seems to have been the sentiment of all
nations, that a sinner must perish, or find some means of appeasing
the Divinity, some way of expiating sin, and satisfying the claims
of violated Majesty. God also, who can not fortify an error, appears to have confirmed this sentiment by commanding the Israelites to offer sacrifices. But what proportion exists between the sacrifice of animals or evei of men, and the majesty of the Supreme




132            DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
Being offended by a creature; between the bloo I of slaugLtered
victims and injury done to the divine laws. Vain are all ablutions,
and lustrations; they could never cleanse our stains. Reason, natural revelation, the precepts of philosophy, even the religion of
Moses, offered nothing sufficient to reconcile us to God, supplied no
efficacious way of satisfying Divine justice. Jesus Christ was that
way; He removed this obstacle. " No man cometh unto the Father
but by Him."
On this subject the Scriptures teach us three truths. The first
is, that our Mediator really satisfied for us, appeased the Divinity,
merited our reconciliation. "God was in Christ, reconciling the
world unto Himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them."
" When we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death
of His Son." " He is our peace, having made peace through the
blood of His cross." Him " God hath set forth to be a propitiation,
through faith in His blood: In whom we have redemption, even
the forgiveness of sins." The second truth is that it is only Jesus
Christ who has done this, who has satisfied for us. The glory is
not divided. He "hath trodden the wine press alone, and of the
people there was none with Him."  "There is one God, and one
Mediator between God and men' the man Christ Jesus. St. Paul
clearly proves that " the grace of God is by one man, Jesus Christ;"
and that "as by the offense of one judgment came upon all men to
condemnation, even so by the righteousness of one," by one justifying righteousness, "the free gift came upon all men to justification of life."  The same Apostle also proves it to be by the "one
sacrifice" of Christ, by His " one offering," that we are purified and
sanctified, and by His intercession alone that we obtain a place
among the saints. Lastly, on this head, the Scripture not only informs us that Jesus Christ has satisfied by His death, and that He
has made satisfaction alone, but it also assures us that by no other
being could satisfaction ever have been made.
I conclude this from the manner in which the Apostles in almost
every page extol the great, the infinite mercy of God in sending His
Son and giving Him up to die. They never would have held such
language if there had been other ways of appeasing Divine justice
and effecting the salvation of men; if what Jesus Christ has done,
could have been performed by other mediators. Consider brethren;
there has never been another individual in the world, who was a
man without being a sinner; who could discharge the debts a$
others without being burdened with any debt of His own; who b.]is death could offer a sacrifice proportioned to the dignity of ti




CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATION.    133
party offended, and the dignity of whose person coul I render the
punishment of one equivalent to that of many; who could suffer
without perishing and sinking under His sufferings. He, and He
only, could transfer to Himself the punishments of others-without
injustice to others, because He is independent and Master of Himself-without injustice to Himself, because He had power to rise
again and return from death. From all this you will conclude that
"no one cometh to the Father, but by Jesus Christ," because He,
and He only, is in fact our Mediator and Surety; He and He only
could reconcile us to God by His death.
Come, then, ye authors of other religions, come and plead your
claims in opposition to the Author of ours! Where were you when
He gave His blood for the ransom of the world? Where were you
when He struggled alone with justice, when alone He sustained the
strokes of Divine vengeance? What works have you performed,
that we should believe in you? What have you done for man?
Your object has been to flatter him, instead of healing his maladies.
You have wished to receive every thing from the Deity, and to make
Him no return. Where is your sacrifice?  Where is your victim?
Ah I you are unable to restore to me God whom I have lost by sin:
you can not bring me back to God, from whom my heart has been
alienated by fear.
The second obstacle which kept us at a distance from God, was
our dread of Him and His tremendous justice: but Christ has also
removed this obstacle to our approach, this cause of our flight from
the Supreme Judge, arising from uncertainty, distrust, and fear.
Jesus has given us a certain hope of pardon, has announced it by
explicit promises, and shown us the foundations on which it rests.
He has banished our distrust and annihilated our fears, by the assurance of His " having made peace by the blood of His cross." He
declares that God, instead of being our enemy, is become our friend,
that he is willing to readmit us to the enjoyment of His love and
all the blessings which that love includes. By these declarations
terrified man is encouraged, his conscience is tranquilized, and he
approaches God with confidence. Since it is in Jesus Christ and by
Him alone, that God reveals Himself propitious to sinners; since it
is He alone that enables us to contemplate the Deity sitting on a
throne of grace, to which He gives us access by His merit and intercession; it is certain that "1no man cometh to the Father but by
Him."
The third thing necessary to bring us near to God, was to change
our hearts, to make us holy, to detach us from excessive love of the




134            DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
creatures; in order, on the one hand, that the holiness of God might
not oppose our admission to His communion, and on the other, that
our hearts might no longer be alienated from God by propensities to
sin. This is a point which false religions had scarcely ever contemplated, wholly ignorant of the depth of human corruption, or think.
ing of it only to flatter it, and forming no just ideas of an Allperfect Being. But Jesus Christ changes the heart of the man whom
He deigns to bring to God: He annihilates the moral distance between a holy God and a corrupt heart; first, by the precepts of His
word, and the motives He presents to induce us to love God and
despise the world; secondly, by His example which He proposes to
our imitation; thirdly, by His Spirit which mortifies the old man
and forms the new man within us. No religion ever delivered precepts on the love of God so certain and complete as His; no one
ever furnished motives so powerful, to excite us to follow its laws:
still further have any others been from giving a perfect example for
our direction. Jesus Christ alone has been able to impart a miraculous power to gain the hearts; that Holy Spirit which draws us to
God, and forms the peculiar character of His religion; that Spirit
the fruit of His merit and intercession, which He sent down immediately after His ascension to heaven, and without which it is im.
possible to please God. This justifies the conclusion that "no man
cometh to the Father, but by Jesus Christ."
We proceed to another proof. It is only by Jesus Christ that our
prayers can be acceptable to God; He is our only Advocate and Intercessor with the Father. This is a truth, astonishing to tell I opposed by multitudes. All Christians acknowledge Jesus Christ to
be our only Mediator in redemption; but the Roman Catholics pretend that we may have many mediators in intercession. They maintain that those intercessors obtain favor for us with God, not only
by their prayers, but also by their merits. How then does Jesus
affirm that "no man cometh to the Father but by Him?" How
does St. John say, " If any man sin, we have an Advocate with the
Father, Jesus Christ the righteous; and He is the propitiation for
our sins?" Why speak of an advocate, if there are many, though
different? His design in that passage is to comfort the faithful who
fall into any sin. If the doctrine of Rome were true, would He not
say that there are many advocates with God; that beside Jesus
Christ who is the principal, there are as many protectors and intercessors as there are saints both male and female? On the contrary, St.
John exhibits only one source of comfort and confidence, "Jesus
Christ the righteous."  Here is the`'undation of the office He exer




CHRIST THE ONLY WAY OF SALVATION.    135
eises for us. He is our advocate, because He is " the righteous," innocent in Himself, and our true righteousness who justifies us, and
satisfies on our behalf. The Apostle adds, that " He is the propitiation for our sins." His propitiation is the ground of the second act
of His priesthood, which is intercession. I remark then, as Jesus
Christ alone has made expiation for our crimes, so it is He only,
who, having no claims on Himself, is qualified to intercede for us with
the Father, in an official character, with authority, and with all
needful success. " No man cometh to the Father, but by Him."
So many proofs united establish our proposition beyond all
doubt. Jesus Christ alone has satisfied for us, and appeased God;
He alone has rendered Deity propitious, accessable, favorable; He
alone possesses the Spirit of grace to communicate to us from His
Father; He alone has taken away our alienations of heart from God;
He alone has appeared in the presence of God and intercedes for us,
with justice, authority, and efficacy. We will add, He alone will
come to deliver us from death, as we have already shown you under
our first head. " No man cometh to the Father, but by Him."
To conclude, let us first pity the erroneous, and fortify our faith
against error. Let us pity and mourn over the blind Jew, who still
seeks salvation in a dead law, and rejects Him who is "the truth
and the life." Let us also deplore the unhappy state of many nations,
who, far from our Jesus, the only source of spiritual light and life,
are languishing in darkness and in the shadow of death. Let us,
above all, detest the impiety of those persons who, under the pretence of exalting the goodness of God, assert that salvation may be
obtained in all kinds of religions, provided men acknowledge a Supreme Being. These people seem to have the same notion as Tamerlane, the famous Conqueror, who is said to have readily tolerated all
sects and all diversities of faith, alleging that God resembles a great
prince who likes a variety of officers and services. But this is a
sentiment unworthy of God, and presents an idea truly ridiculous.
He is uniform, simple in His ways. Truth is one, and nothing is more
contrary to revelation than these notions.
Christians, our beloved is One alone! Let us never associate
with Him any companion, in our worship or in our hearts. Let us
love Him  exclusively, in preference to every other. "No man
cometh unto the Father, but by Him."  None but the High Priest
could offer that exquisite perfume, the composition of which is so
carefully prescribed. None but the High Priest could enter into the
miost holy place. Jesus is the true Joseph, of whom alone the




136             DANIEL DE SUPERVILLE.
Father hath said, " Go unto Joseph; what He saith to you, do
without Him shall no man lift up his hand or his foot in all the
land."
Let us adhere to this great Saviour! How firmly men attach
themselves to a patron of known goodness and established credit,
especially when no other can be found capable of affording full protection I Let us follow Him by practicing His religion and obeying
His truth I Let us not, like the Israelites, grow weary in the way.
Be of good courage, Christian travelers! Let us follow Him who
is " the way, and the truth, and the life."  " He that followeth Him
shall not walk in darkness."  "He that believeth in tHim, though he
were dead, yet shall he live." Yes, Jesus is " the life." You know
it, ye happy spirits, who are exalted to sit with Him on His throne;
and we shall one day know it too I We know it already, by faith,
and hope; and soon we shall know it by enjoyment and glory I
God grant us all this grace I Amen




])ISCOURSE   FIFTYTHI IRD,
JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
TuE Whitefield of the French pulpit, as Massillon has been styled,
was born, of obscure parentage, at Hieres, in Provence, in the year 1662.
In his studies he bestowed special attention upon sacred eloquence; and
was soon called to preach in the pulpits of Paris, where he attracted the
livelist admiration, thrilling his hearers " as by the shocks of a spiritual
electricity." In 1718 he was presented with the Bishopric of Clermnont,
and died on the 28th of September, 1742.
Massilion is one of the "unapproachable triumvirate" of the French
pulpit orators. There are those who consider him foremost among them
all. Certainly he was excelled by none in many points of lofty, persua.
sive eloquence. His style is that of simple elegance combined with
wondrous strength and vigor. The peculiarities of his sermonizing are
great clearness of thought, perfect sobriety of judgment, tender emotions, melting pathos, novelty of illustration, crpiousness of language, and
unerring taste and skill.
When Baron, the great actor, heard him, he said to a companion,
"My friend, here is an orator; as for us, we are but actors."  But the
best feature of his pulpit productions, was their deep religious spirit, and
their earnestness and faithfulness, in dealing with the consciences of his
hearers. His discourses are pervaded with that onction, that mild magic,
that tender and affecting manner, that gentle fascination, that endearing
simplicity which allures and wins, and renders lovely the religion of the
blessed Gospel. His eloquence goes right into the soul, and without
lacerating it, penetrates, and convinces, and subdues.  It was the
"Grand  fonarch " who said to him: " Father, I have heard many great
orators in this chapel, and have been highly pleased with them; but with
you, whenever I hear you, I go away displeased with myself, for I see
my own character." Some of Massillon's sermons have been translated,
but it is to be regretted that the rendering was not more free and
graceful. That which is here given is the one most celebrated. When
drawing near to the close, and uttering one of his overwhelming sell.
tences, the whole congregation started to their feet, and interrupted




138           JOHN  BAPTIST MASSILLON.
the preacher by their murmurs and exclamations of terror and despai
It is proper to add that while the translation above referred to is the
basis of that here given, it has been necessary to recast many of the sen.
tences, and greatly modify the general rendering. It is believed that
the sermon, as here given, retains somewhat of the freedom, ease, and
vivacity which it bore as it fell from the great orator's lips.
THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.
"And many lepers were in Israel in the time of Eliseus the prophet; and none of
them was cleansed, saving Naaman the Syrian." —LUKE, iv. 27.
Every day, my brethren, you continue to ask of us, whether the
road to heaven is really so difficult, and the number of the saved
really so small as we represent? To a question so often proposed,
and still oftener resolved, our Saviour answers you here, that there
were many widows in Israel afflicted with famine; but the widow
of Sarepta was alone found worthy the succor of the prophet Elias;
that the number of lepers was great in Israel in the time of the
prophet Eliseus; and that Naaman was only cured by the man of
God.
Were I here, my brethren, for the purpose of alarming, rather
than instructing you, I had need only to recapitulate what in the
holy writings we find dreadful with regard to this great truth; and,
running over the history of the just, from age to age, show you
that, in all times, the number of the saved has been very small.
The family of Noah alone saved from the general flood; Abraham
chosen from among men to be the sole depositary of the covenant
with God; Joshua and Caleb the only two of six hundred thousand
Hebrews who saw the Land of Promise; Job the only upright man
in the Land of Uz —Lot, in Sodom. To representations so alarming,
would have succeeded the sayings of the prophets. In Isaiah you
would see the elect as rare as the grapes which are found after the
vintage, and have escaped the search of the gatherer' as rare as the
blades which remain by chance in the field, and have escaped the
scythe of the mower. The Evangelist would still have added new
traits to the terrors of these images. I might have spoken to you
of two roads-of which one is narrow, rugged, and the path of a
very small number; the other broad, open, and strewed with flowers,
and almost the general path of men: that every where, in the holy




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                139
writings, the multitude is always spoken of as forming the party of
the reprobate; while the saved, compared with the rest of mankind,
form only a small flock, scarcely perceptible to the sight. I would
have left you in fears with regard to your salvation; always cruel
to those who have not renounced faith and every hope of being
among the saved. But what would it serve to limit the fruits of
this instruction to the single point of Eetting forth how few persons
will be saved? Alas! I would make the danger known, without
instructing you how to avoid it; I would show you, with the prophet,
the sword of the wrath of God suspended over your heads, without
assisting you to escape the threatened blow; I would alarm but not
instruct the sinner.
My intention is, therefore, to-day, to search for the cause of this
small number, in our morals and manner of life. As every one flatters himself he will not be excluded, it is of importance to examine
if his confidence be well founded. I wish not, in marking to you
the causes which render salvation so rare, to make you generally
conclude that few will be saved, but to bring you to ask yourselves
i; living as you live, you can hope to be saved. Who am I? What
am I doing for heaven? And what can be my hopes in eternity?
I propose no other order in a matter of such importance. What are
the causes which render salvation so rare? I mean to point out three
principal causes, which is the only arrangement of this discourse.
Art, and far-sought reasonings, would here be ill-timed. 0 attend,
therefore, be ye whom ye may I No subject can be more worthy
your attention, since it goes to inform you what may be the hopes
of your eternal destiny.
PART I.-Few are saved, because in that number we can only
comprehend two descriptions of persons: —either those who have
been so happy as to preserve their innocence pure and undefiled, or
those who, after having lost, have regained it by penitence. This is
the first cause. There are only these two ways of salvation: heaven
is ofliy open to the innocent or to the penitent. Now, of which party
are you? Are you innocent? Are you penitent?
Nothing unclean shall enter the kingdom of God. We must
*consequsntly carry there either an innocence unsullied, or an inno.
cence regained. Now to die innocent, is a grace to which few souls
can aspire: and to live penitent, is a mercy which the relaxed state
of our morals renders equally rare. Who, indeed, will pretend to
salvation by the claim of innocence? Where are the pure souls in
whom sin has never dwelt, and who have preserved to the end the




140           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
sacred treasure of grace confided to them by baptism, and which owu
Saviour will redemand at the awful day of punishment?
In those happy days when the whole Church was still but an
assembly of saints, it was very uncommon to find an instance of a
believer, who, after having received the gifts of the Holy Spirit, ana
acknowledged Jesus Christ in the sacrament which regenerates us,
ell back to his former irregularities of life. Ananias and Sapphira,
were the only prevaricators in the Church of Jerusalem; that of
Corinth had only one incestuous sinner. Church-penitence was then
a remedy almost unknown; and scarcely was there found among
these true Israelites one single leper whom they were obliged to
drive from the holy altar, and separate from communion with his
brethren. But, since that time the number of the upright diminishes,
in proportion as that of believers increases. It would appear that the
world, pretending now to have become almost generally Christian,
has brought with it into the Church its corruptions and its maxims.
Alas  we all go astray, almost from the breast of our mothers I
The first use which we make of our heart is a crime; our first desires
are passions; and our reason only expands and increases on the
wrecks ef our innocence. The earth, says a prophet, is infected by
the corruption of those who inhabit it: all have violated the laws,
changed the ordinances, and broken the alliance which should have
endured forever: all commit sin, and scarcely is there one to be
found who does the work of the Lord. Injustice, calumny, lying,
treachery, adultery, and the blackest crimes have deluged the earth.
The brother lays snares for his brother; the father is divided from
his children; the husband from his wife: there is no tie which a vile
interest does not sever. Good faith and probity are no longer virtues
except among the simple people. Animosities are endless; reconciliations are feints, and never is a former enemy regarded as a brother:
they tear, they devour each other. Assemblies are no longer but
for the purpose of public and general censure. The purest virtue is
no longer a protection from the malignity of tongues. Gaming is
become either a trade, a fraud, or a fury. Repasts —those innocent
ties of society-degenerate into excesses of which we dare not speak.
Our age witnesses horrors with which our forefathers were un.
acquainted.
Behold, then, already one path of salvation shut to the generality of men. All have erred. Be ye whom you may who listen to
me now, the time has been when sin reigned over you. Age may
perhaps have calmed your passions, but what was your youth?
Long and habitlial infirmities may perhaps have disgusted you with




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                141
the world; but what use did you formerly make of the vigor of
health? A sudden inspiration of grace may have turned your
heart, but do you not most fervently entreat that every moment
prior to that inspiration may be effaced from the remembrance of
the Lord.
But with what am I taking up time? We are all sinners, 0 my
God I and Thou knowest our hearts! What we know of our errors
is, perhaps, in Thy sight, the most pardonable; and we all allow,
that by innocence we have no claim to salvation. There remains,
therefore, only one resource, which is penitence. After our shipwreck, say the saints, it is the timely plank which alone can conduct
us into port; there is no other means of salvation for us. Be ye
whom you may, prince or subject, high or low, penitence alone can
save you. Now permit me to ask-Where are the penitent?  You
will find more, says a holy father, who have never fallen, than who,
after their fall, have raised themselves by true repentance. This
is a terrible saying; but do not let us carry things too far: the truth
is sufficiently dreadful without adding new terrors to it by vain declamation.
Let us only examine as to whether the majority of us have a
right, through penitence, to salvation. What is a penitent?  Ac.
cording to Tertullian, a penitent is a believer who feels every moment
his former unhappiness in forsaking and losing his God. One who
has his guilt incessantly before his eyes; who finds every where the
traces and remembrance of it.
A penitent is a man intrusted by God with judgment against
himself; one who refuses himself the most innocent pleasures because
he had formerly indulged in those the most criminal; one who puts
up with the most necessary gratification with pain; one who regards
his body as an enemy whom it is necessary to conquer —as an unclean vessel which must be purified-as an unfaithful debtor of
whom it is proper to exact to the last farthing. A penitent regards
himself as a criminal condemned to death, because he is no longer
worthy of life. In the loss of riches or health, he sees only a
withdrawal of favors that he had formerly abused: in the humiliations which happen to him, only the pains of his guilt: in the agonies with which he is racked, only the commencement of those punishments he has justly merited. Such is a penitent.
But I again ask you- Where, among us, are penitents of this
description? Now look around you. I do not tell you to judge
your brethen, but to examine what are the manners and morals of
those who surround you. Nor do T speak of those open and avowed




142           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
sinners who have thrown off even the appearance of virtue. I speak
only of those who, like yourselves, live as most live, and whose
actions present nothing to the public view particularly shameful or
depraved. They are sinners, and they admit it: you are not inno.
cent, and you confess it. Now are they penitent? or are you?
Age, avocation, more serious employments, may perhaps have
checked the sallies of youth. Even the bitterness which the Almighty has made attendant on our passions, the deceits, the treacheries of the world, an injured fortune, with ruined constitution, may
have cooled the ardor, and confined the irregular desires of your
hearts. Crimes may have disgusted you even with sin itself —for
passions gradually extinguish themselves. Time, and the natural
inconstancy of the heart will bring these about; yet, nevertheless,
though detached from sin by incapability, you are no nearer your
God. According to the world you are become more prudent, more
regular, to a greater extent what it calls men of probity, more exact
in fulfilling your public or private duties. But you are not penitent.
You have ceased from your disorders, but you have not expiated them.
You are not converted: this great stroke, this grand operation on
the heart, which regenerates man, has not yet been felt by you.
Nevertheless, this situation, so truly dangerous, does not alarm you.
Sins which have never been washed away by sincere repentance,
and consequently never obliterated from the book of life, appear in
your eyes as no longer existing; and you will tranquilly leave this
world in a state of impenitence, so much the more dangerous as you
will die without being sensible of your danger.
What I say here, is not merely a rash expression, or an emotion
of zeal; nothing is more real, or more exactly true: it is the situaation of almost all men, even the wisest and most esteemed of the
world. The morality of the younger stages of life is always lax, if
not licentious. Age, disgust, and establishment for life, fix the
heart, and withdraw it from debauchery: but where are those who
are converted? Where are those who expiate their crimes by tears
of sorrow and true repentance? Where are those who, having
begun as sinners, end as penitents? Show me, in your manner of
living, the smallest trace of penitence! Are your graspings at wealth
and power, your anxieties to attain the favor of the great (and by
these means an increase of employments and influence)-are these
proofs of it? Would you wish to reckon even your crimes as vir.
tues?-that the sufferings of your ambition, pride, and avarice, should
discharge you from an obligation which they themselves have imposed? You are penitent to the world, but are you so to Jesus




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                143
Christ? The infirmities with which God afflicts you, the enemies
He raised up against you, the disgraces and losses with which He
tries you-do you receive them all as you ought, with humble submission to His will? or, rather, far from finding in them occasions
of penitence, do you not turn them into the objects of new crimes?
It is the duty of an innocent soul to receive with submission the
chastisements of the Almighty; to discharge, with courage, the
painful duties of the station allotted to him, and to be faithful to the
laws of the Gospel —but do sinners owe nothing beyond this? And
yet they pretend to salvation! Upon what claim? To say that you
are innocent before God, your own consciences will witness against
you. To endeavor to persuade yourselves that you are penitent,
you dare not; and you would condemn yourselves by your own
mouths. Upon what, then, dost thou depend, O man! who thus
livest so tranquil?
And what renders it still more dreadful is that, acting in this
manner you only follow the current; your morals are the morals of
well-nigh all men. You may, perhaps, be acquainted with some
still more guilty (for I suppose you to have still remaining some
sentiments of religion, and regard for your salvation), but do you
know any real penitents? I am afraid we must search the deserts
and solitudes for them. You possibly may mention, among persons
of rank and worldly custom, a small number whose morals and mode
of life, more austere and guarded than the generality, attract the
attention, and very likely the censure of the public. But all the
rest walk in the uniform path. I see clearly that every one comforts
himself by the example of his neighbor: that, in that point; children
succeed to the false security of their fathers; that none live innocent,
that none die penitent: I see it, and I cry, 0 God! if Thou hast not
deceived us; if all Thou hast told us with regard to the road to eternal life shall be strictly fulfilled, if the number of those who must
perish shall not influence Thee to abate from the severity of Thy
laws-what will become of that immense multitude of creatures
which every hour disappears from the face of the earth? Where
are our friends, our relations who have gone before us? and what is
their lot in the eternal regions of the dead? What shall we ourselves
become?
When formerly a prophet complained to the Lord that all Israel
had forsaken His protection, He replied that seven thousand still
remained who had not bowed the knee to Baal. Behold the number of pure and faithful souls which a whole kingdom then con.
tained I But couldst Thou still, 0, my God! comfort the anguish




144           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
of Thy servants to-day by the same assurance I I know that Thine
eye discerns still some upright among us; that the priesthood has
still its Phineases; the magistracy its Samuels;'the sword its Joshuas; the court its Daniels, its Esthers, and its Davids: for the world
only exists for Thy chosen, and all would perish were the number
accomplished. But those happy remnants of the children of Israel
who shall inherit salvation —what are they, compared to the grains
of sand in the sea; I mean, to that number of sinners who fight for
their own destruction? Come you after this, my brethren, to inquire if it be true that few shall be saved? Thou hast said it, O,
my God! and hence it is a truth which shall endure forever.
But, even admitting that the Almighty had not spoken thus, I
would wisb, in the second place, to review, for an instant, what
passes among men:-the laws by which they are governed; the
maxims by which the multitude is regulated: this is the second
cause of the paucity of the saved; and, properly speaking, is only
a development of the first —the force of habit and customs.
PART II.-Few  people are saved, because the maxims most
universally received in all countries, and upon which depend, in
general, the morals of the multitude, are incompatible with salvation. The rules laid down, approved, and authorized by the world
with regard to the application of wealth, the love of glory, Christian moderation, and the duties of offices and conditions, are directly
opposed to those of the evangelists, and consequently can lead only
to death. I shall not, at present, enter into a detail too extended for
a discomurse, and too little serious, perhaps, for Christians.
I need not tell you that this is an established custom in the
world, to allow the liberty of proportioning expenses to rank and
wealth; and, provided it is a patrimony we inherit from our ancestors, we may distinguish ourselves by the use of it, without restraint
to our luxury, or without regard, in our profusion, to any thing but
our pride and caprice.
But Christian moderation has its rules. We are not the absolute,
masters of our riches; nor are we entitled to abuse what the Almighty has bestowed upon us for better purposes. Above all, while
thousands of unfortunate wretches languish in poverty, whatever we
make use of beyond the wants and necessary expenses of our station, is an inhumanity and a theft from the poor. "These are
refinements of devotion," they say. "And, in matters of expense
and profusion, nothing is excessive or blamable, according to the
world, but what may tend to derange the fortune." I need not tell




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                 140
you that it is an approved custom to decide our lots, and to regulate our choice of professions or situations in life, by the order of
our birth, or the interests of fortune. But, 0 my God! does the
ministry of Thy Gospel derive its source from the worldly considerations of a carnal birth? " We can not fix every thing," says the
world, "and it would be melancholy to see persons of rank and birth
in avocations unworthy of their dignity. If born to a name distin
guished in the world, you must get forward by dint of intrigue,
meanness, and expense: make fortune your idol: that ambition,
however much condemned by the laws of the Gospel, is only a sentiment worthy your name and birth: you are of a sex and rank
which introduce you to the gayeties of the world: you can not but
do as others do: you must frequent all the public places, where
those of your age and rank assemble: enter into the same pleasures: pass your days in the same frivolities, and expose yourself to
the same dangers: these are the received maxims, and you are not
made to reform them."  Such is the doctrine of the world!
Now, permit me to ask you here, who confirms you in these
ways? By what rule are they justified to your mind? Who authorizes you in this dissipation, which is neither agreeable to the
title you have received by baptism, nor perhaps to those you hold
from vour ancestors? Who authorizes those public pleasures,
which you only think innocent because your soul, already too familiarized with sin, feels no longer the dangerous impressions or tendency of them? Who authorizes you to lead an effeminate and sensual life, without virtue, sufferance, or any religious exercise? —to
live like a stranger in the midst of your own family, disdaining to
inform yourself with regard to the morals of those dependent upon
you?-through an affected state, to be ignorant whether they believe in the same God; whether they fulfill the duties of the religion you profess? Who authorizes you in maxims so little Christian?
Is it the Gospel of Jesus Christ? Is it the doctrine of the Apostles
and saints? For surely some rule is necessary to assure us that we
are in safety. What is yours?  " Custom:" that is the only reply
you can make! " We see none around us but what conduct themselves in the same way, and by the same rule. Entering into the
world, we find the manners already established: our fathers lived
thus, and from them we copy our customs: the wisest conform to
them: an individual can not be wiser than the whole world, and
must not pretend to make himself singular, by acting contrary to
the general voice." Such, my brethren, are your only comforters
against all the terrors of religion  None act up to the law. The
10




146           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
public example is the only guaranty of our morals.  We never
reflect that, as the Holy Spirit says, the laws of the people are vain:
that our Saviour has left us rules, in which neither times, ages, nor
customs, can ever authorize the smallest change: that the heavens
and the earth shall pass away, that customs and manners shall
change, but that the Divine laws will everlastingly be the same.
We content ourselves with looking around us. We do not refleet that what, at present, we call custom, would, in former times,
before the morals of Christians became degenerated, have been regarded as monstrous singularities; and, if corruption has gained
since that period, these vices, though they have lost their singularity, have not lost their guilt. We do not reflect that we shall be
judged by the Gospel, and not by custom; by the examples of the
holy, and not by men's opinions; —that the habits, which are only
established among believers by the relaxation of faith, are abuses
we are to lament, not examples we are to follow; —that, in changing the manners, they have not changed our duties;- that the common and general example which authorizes them, only proves that
virtue is rare, but not that profligacy is permitted;- in a word, that
piety and a real Christian life are too repulsive to our depraved nature ever to be practiced by the majority of men.
Come now, and say that you only do as others do. It is exactly
by that you condemn yourselves. What! the most terrible certainty of your condemnation shall become the only motive for your
confidence! Which, according to the Scriptures, is the road that
conducts to death? Is it not that which the majority pursue?
Which is the party of the reprobate? Is it not the multitude?
You do nothing but what others do! But thus, in the time of Noah,
perished all who were buried under the waters of the deluge: all
who, in the time of Nebuchadnezzar, prostrated themselves before
the golden calf: all who, in the time of Elijah, bowed the knee to
Baal; all who, in the time of Eleazer, abandoned the law of their
fathers. You only do what others do I But that is precisely what
the Scriptures forbid. " Do not," say they, "conform yourselves to
this corrupted age." Now, the corrupted age means not the small
number of the just, whom you endeavor not to imitate; it means
the multitude whom you follow. You only do what others do!
You will consequently experience the same lot. " Misery to thee"
(cried formerly St. Augustine), "fatal torrent of human customs!
Wilt thou never suspend thy course I Wilt thou, to the end, draw
the children of Adam into thine immense and terrible abyss!"
In place of saying to ourselves, " What are my hopes? In the




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                 1t7
Church of Jesus Christ there are two roads; one broad and open, by
which almost the whole world passes, and which leads to death; the
other narrow, where few indeed enter, and which conducts to life
eternal; in which of these am I? Are my morals those which are
common to persons of my rank, age, and situation in life? Am I
with the great number? Then I am not in the right path. I am
losing myself. The great number in every station is not the party
saved" not far from reasoning in this manner, we say to ourselves, " I
am not in a worse state than others! Those of my rank and age live
as I do! Why should I not live like them?"  Why, my dear hearers? For that very reason! The general mode of living can not
be that of a Christian life. In all ages, the holy have been remarkable and singular men. Their manners were always different from
those of the world; and they have only been saints because their
lives had no similarity to those of the rest of mankind. In the
time of Esdras, in spite of the defense against it, the custom prevailed of intermarrying with stra.ge women: this abuse became
general: the priests and the people no lotger made any scruple of
it. But what did this holy restorer of the law? Did he follow the
example of his brethren? Did he believe that guilt, in becoming
general, became more legitimate? No: he recalled the people to a
sense of the abuse. He took the book of the law in his hand, and
explained it to the affrighted people-corrected the custom by the
truth.
Follow, from age to age, the history of the just; and see if Lot
conformed himself to the habits of Sodom, or if nothing distinguished him from the other inhabitants; if Abraham lived like the
rest of his age; if Job resembled the other princes of his nation;
if Esther conducted herself, in the court of Ahasuerus like the
other women of that prince; if many widows in Israel resembled
Judith; if, among the children of the captivity, it is not said of Tobias alone that he copied not the conduct of his brethren, and that
he even fled from the danger of their commerce and society. See,
if in those happy ages, when Christians were all saints, they did not.
shine like stars in the midst of the corrupted nations; and if they
served not as a spectacle to angels and men, by the singularity of
their lives and manners. If the pagans did not reproach them for
their retirement, and shunning of all public theaters, places, and
pleasures. If they did not complain that the Christians affected to
distinguish themselves in every thing from their fellow-citizens; to
form a separate people in the midst of the people; to have their
particular laws and customs; and if a man from their side embraced




148           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
the party of the Christians, they did not consider him  as forever
lost to their pleasures, assemblies, and customs. In a word, see, if in
all ages the saints whose lives and actions have been transmitted
down to us, have resembled the rest of mankind.
You will perhaps tell us that all these are singularities and exceptions, rather than rules which the world is obliged to follow.
They are exceptions, it is true: but the reason is, that the general
rule is to reject salvation; that a religious and pious soul in the
midst of the world is always a singularity approaching to a miracle.
The whole world, you say, is not obliged to follow these examples.
But is not piety alike the duty of all? To be saved, must we not
be holy? Must heaven, with difficulty and sufferance, be gained by
some, and by others with ease? Have you any other Gospel to follow? Any other duties to fulfill? Any other promises to hope for,
than those of the Holy Bible? Ah! since there was another way
more easy to arrive at salvation, wherefore-ye pious Christians,
who at this moment enjoy the kingdom gained with toil, and at the
expense of your blood-did ye leave us examples so dangerous and
vain? Wherefore have ye opened for us a road, rugged, disagreeable, and calculated to repress our ardor, seeing there was another
you could have pointed out more easy, and more likely to attract
us, by facilitating our progress? Great God! how little does mankind consult reason in the point of eternal salvation!
Will you console yourselves, after this, with the mulltitude, as if
the greatness of the number could render the guilt unpunished, and
the Almighty durst not condemn all those who live like you? What
are all creatures in the sight of God?  Did the multitude of the
guilty prevent Him from destroying all flesh at the deluge? from
making fire from heaven descend upon the five iniquitous cities?
from burying, in the waters of the Red Sea, Pharaoh and all his
army? from striking with death all who murmured in the desert?
Ah! the kings of the earth may reckon upon the number of the
guilty, because the punishment becomes impossible, or at least difficult, when the fault is become general. But God, who, as Job says,
wipes the impious from off the face of the earth, as one wipes the
dust from off a garment-God, in whose sight all people and nations
are as if they were not-numbers not the guilty. He has regard
only to the crimes; and all that the weak and miserable sinner can
expect from his unhappy accomplices, is to have them as companions
in his misery.
So few are saved, because the maxims most universally adopted
are maxims of sin. So few are saved, because the maxims and duties




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                149
most universally unknown, or rejected, are those most indispensable
to salvation. This is the last reflection, which is indeed nothing more
than the proof and the development of the former ones.
What are the engagements of the holy vocation to which we
have all been called? The solemn promises of baptism. What
have we promised at baptism? To renounce the world, the devil,
and the flesh. These are our vows. This is the situation of the
Christian. These are the essential conditions of our covenant with
God, by which eternal life has been promised to us. These truths
appear familiar, and destined for the common people; but it is a
mistake. Nothing can be more sublime; and, alas! nothing is more
generally unknown! It is in the courts of kings, and to the princes
of the earth, that without ceasing we ought to announce them. Alas I
they are well instructed in all the affairs of the world, while the first
principles of Christian morality are frequently more unknown to
them than to humble and simple hearts I
At your baptism, then, you have renounced the world. It is a
promise you have made to God, before the holy altar; the Church
has been the guarantee and depository of it; and you have only
been admitted into the number of believers, and marked with the
indefeasible seal of salvation, upon the faith that you have sworn to
the Lord, to love neither the world, nor what the world loves. Had
you then answered, what you now repeat every day, that you find
not the world so black and pernicious as we say; that, after all, it
may innocently be loved; and that we only decry it so much because we do not know it; and since you are to live in the world you
wish to live like those who are in it-had you answered thus, the
Church would not have received you into its bosom; would not have
connected you with the hope of Christians, nor joined you in communion with those who have overcome the world. She would have
advised you to go and live with those unbelievers who know not our
Saviour. For this reason it was, that in former ages, those of the
Catechumen, who could not prevail upon themselves to renounce
the world and its pleasures, put off their baptism till death; and
durst not approach the holy altar, to contract, by the sacrament,
which regenerates us, engagements of which they knew the importance and sanctity; and to fulfill which they felt themselves still unqualified.
You are therefore required, by the most sacred of all vows, to
hate toh. world; that is to say, not to conform yourselves to it. If
you Live it, if you follow its pleasures and customs, you are not
only, as St. John says, the enemy of God, but you likewise renounce




150           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
the faith given in baptism; you abjure the Gospel of Jesus Christ,
you are an apostate from religion, and trample under foot the most
sacred and irrevocable vows that man can make.
Now, what is this world which you ought to hate? I have only
to answer that it is the one you love. You will never mistake it
by this mark. This world is a society of sinners, whose desires,
fears, hopes, cares, pr:jects, joys, and chagrins, no longer turn but
upon the successes or misfortunes of this life. This world is an assemblage of people who look upon the earth as their country; the
time to come as an exilement; the promises of faith as a dream;
and death as the greatest of all misfortunes. This world is a temrn
poral kingdom, where our Saviour is unknown; where those acquainted with His name, glorify Him not as their Lord, hate His
maxims, despise His followers, and neglect or insult Him in His sacraments and worship. In a word, to give a proper idea at once of
this world, it is the vast multitude. Behold the world which you
ought to shun, hate, and war against by your example!
Now, is this your situation in regard to the world? Are its
pleasures a fatigue to you? Do its excesses afflict you?  Do you
regret the length of your pilgrimage here? Or on the contrary, are
not its laws your laws; its maxims your maxims?  What it condemns, do you not condemn? What it approves do you not approve? And should it happen, that you alone were left upon the
earth, may we not say that the corrupt world would be revived in
you; and that you would leave an exact model of it to your posterity? When I say you, I mean, and I address myself to almost
all men.
Where are those who sincerely renounce the pleasures, habits,
maxims, and hopes of this world? We find many who complain of
it, and accuse it of injustice, ingratitude, and caprice; who speak
warmly of its abuses and errors. But in decrying, they continue to
love and follow it; they can not bring themselves to do without
it. In complaining of its injustice, they are only piqued at it, they
are not undeceived. They feel its hard treatment, but they are unacquainted with its dangers. They censure, but where are those who
hate it? And now my brethren, you may judge if many can have
a claim to salvation.
In the second place, you have renounced the flesh at your baptism;
that is to say, you are engaged not to live according to the sensual
appetites; to regard even indolence and effeminacy as crimes; not to
flatter the corrupt desires of the flesh; but to chastise, crush, and
crucify it. This is not an acquired perfection; it is a vow: it is the




THE SMAI L NUMBER OF THE SAVID.               151
first of all duties; the character of a true Christian and inseparable
from faith. In a word, you have anathematized Satan and all his
works. And what are his works? That which composes almost the
thread and end of your life; pomp, pleasure, luxury, and dissipation; lying, of which he is the father; pride, of which he is the
model; jealousy and contrition, of which he is the artisan.
But I ask you, where are those who have not withdrawn the
anathema they had pronounced against Satan? Now, consequently
(to mention it as we go along), behold many of the questions answered! You continually demand of us, if theaters, and other
public places of amusement, be innocent recreations for Christians?
In return, I have only one question to ask you: Are they the works
of Satan or of Jesus Christ? for there can be no medium in religion.
I do not mean to say that there are not many recreations and amusements which may be termed indifferent. But the most indifferent
pleasures which religion allows, and which the weakness of our nature renders even necessary, belong, in one sense, to Jesus Christ, by
the facility with which they ought to enable us to apply ourselves
to more holy and more serious duties. Every thing we do, every
thing we rejoice or weep at, ought to be of such a nature as to have
a connection with Jesus Christ, and to be done for his glory.
Now, upon this principle-the most incontestable, and most universally allowed in Christian morality-you have only to decide
whether you can connect the glory of Jesus Christ with the pleasures
of a theater. Can our Saviour have any part in such a species of
recreation? And before you enter them, can you, with confidence,
declare to Him that, in so doing, you only propose His glory, and
to enjoy the satisfaction of pleasing Him!  What/ the theaters,
such as they are at present, still more criminal by the public licentiousness of those unfortunate creatures who appear on them than
by the impure and passionate scenes they represent-the theaters
works of JEsUs CHRISTI Jesus Christ would animate a mouth,
from whence are to proceed lacivious words, adapted to corrupt the
heart I But these blasphemies strike me with horror. Jesus Christ
would preside in assemblies of sin, where every thing we hear weakens
His doctrines I where the poison enters into the soul through all the
senses I where every art is employed to inspire, awaken, and justify
the passions He condemns  Now, says Tertullian, if they are net
the works of Jesus Christ, they must be the works of Satan. Every
Christian, therefore, ought to abstain from them. When he partakes
of them, he violates the vows of baptism. However innocent he
may flatter himself to be, in bringing from these places an untainted




152           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
heart, it is sullied by being there; since by his presence alone he has
participated in the works of Satan, which he had renounced at baptism, and violated the most sacred promises he had made to Jesus
Christ and to His Church.
These, my brethren, as I have already told you, are not merely
advices and pious arts; they are the most essential of our obligations.
But, alas! who fulfills them? Who even knows them? Ah  my
brethren, did you know how far the title you bear, of Christian,
engages you; could you comprehend the sanctity of your state; the
hatred of the world, of yourself, and of every thing which is not of
God, that it enjoins that Gospel life, that constant watching, that guard
over the passions, in a word, that conformity with Jesus Christ crucified, which it exacts of you-could you comprehend it, could you
remember that as you ought to love God with all your heart, and all
your strength, a single desire that has not connection with Him de.
files you-you would appear a monster in your own sight. How!
you would exclaim. Duties so holy, and morals so profane! A
vigilance so continual, and a life so careless and dissipated! A love,
of God so pure, so complete. so universal, and a heart the continual
prey of a thousand impulses, either foreign or criminal! If thus it
is, who, 0 my God! will be entitled to salvation? Few indeed, I
fear, my dear hearers! At least it will not be you (unless a change
takes place), nor those who resemble you; it will not be the multi.
tude!
Who shall be saved? Those who work out their salvation with
fear and trembling; who live in the world without indulging in its
vices. Who shall be saved? That Christian woman, who, shut up
in the circle of her domestic duties, rears up her children in faith and
in piety; divides her heart only between her Saviour and her husband; is adorned with delicacy and modesty; sits not down in the
assemblies of vanity; makes not a law of the ridiculous customs of
the world, but regulates those customs by the law of God; and makes
virtue appear more amiable by her rank and her example. Who
shall be saved? That believer, who, in the relaxation of modern times,
imitates the manners of the first Christians —whose hands are clean,
and his heart pure-who is watchful —who hath not lift up his soul
to vanity-but who, in the midst of the dangers of the great world,
continually applies himself to purify it; just-who swears not deceitfully against his neighbor, nor is indebted to fraudulent ways for
the innocent aggrandizement of his fortune; generous-who with
benefits repays the enemy who sought his ruin; sincere-who sacrifices not the truth to a vile interest, and knows not the oart of render



THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAYED.                 153
ing himself agreeable, by betraying his consciene; charitable-who
makes his house and interest the refuge of his fellow-creatures, and
himself the consolation of the afflicted; regads, his wealth as the
property of the poor; humble in affliction-a Christian under injuries, and penitent even in prosperity.  Who will merit salvation?
You, my dear hearer, if you will follow these examples; for such
are the souls to be saved. Now these assuredly do not form the
greatest number. While you continue, therefore, to live like the
multitude, it is a striking proof that you disregard your salvation.
These, my brethren, are truths which should make us tremble I
nor are they those vague ones which are told to all men, and which
none apply to themselves. Perhaps there is not in this assembly an
individual who may not say of himself, " I live like the great number;
like those of my rank, age, and situation; I am lost, should I die in
this path." Now, can any thing be more capable of alarming a soul,
in whom some remains of care for his salvation still exist?  It is the
multitude, nevertheless, who tremble not. There is only a small
number of the just who work out severally their salvation, with fear
and trembling. All the rest are tranquil. After having lived with
the multitude, they flatter themselves they shall be particularized at
death. Every one augurs favorably for himself, and vainly imagines
that he shall be an exception.
On this account it is, my brethren, that I confine myself to you
who are now here assembled. I include not the rest of men; but
consider you as alone existing on the earth. The idea which fills and
terrifies me, is this-I figure to myself the present as your last hour,
and the end of the world! the heavens opening above your headsthe Saviour, in all His glory, about to appear in the midst of His
temple-you only assembled here as trembling criminals, to wait His
coming, and hear the sentence, either of life eternal, or everlasting
death! for it is vain to flatter yourselves that you shall die more innocent than you are at this hour. All those desires of change with
which you are amused, will continue to amuse you till death arrives.
The experience of all ages proves it. The only difference you have
to expect, will most likely be only a larger balance against you than
what you would have to answer for now; and from what would be
your destiny, were you to be judged this moment, you may almost
decide upon what it will be at death. Now, I ask you-and, connecting my own lot with yours, I ask it with dread —were Jesus
Christ to appear in this temple, in the midst of this assembly, to
judge us, to make the awful separation between the sheep and
the goats, do you believe that the most of us would be placed at




154           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
His right hand? Do you believe that the number would at least be
equal? Do you believe that there would even be found ten upright
and faithful servants of the Lord, when formerly five cities could not
furnish that number? I ask you! You know not! I know it
not! Thou alone, O my God I knowest who belong to Thee.
But if we know not who belong to Him, at least we know that
sinners do not. Now, who are the just and faithful assembled here
at present? Titles and dignities avail nothing; you are stripped of
all these in the presence of your Saviour I Who are they? Many
sinners who wish not to be converted; many more who wish, but
always put it off; many others who are only converted in appearance, and again fall back to their former course; in a word, a great
number, who flatter themselves they have no occasion for conversion. This is the party of the reprobate I Ah  my brethren, cut
off from this assembly these four classes of sinners, for they will be
cut off at the great day! And now stand forth ye righteous:where are ye? 0 God I where are Thine elect I What remains as
Thy portion I
My brethren, our ruin is almost certain I Yet we think not of
it! If in this terrible separation, which will one day take place, there
should be but one sinner in the assembly on the side of the reprobate, and a voice from heaven should assure us of it, without particularizing him, who of us would not tremble, lest he should be the unfcrtunate and devoted wretch? Who of us would not immediately
apply to his conscience, to examine if its crimes merited not this
punishment? Who of us, seized with dread, would not demand of
our Saviour, as did the Apostles, crying out, " Lord, is it I?" And
should a small respite be allowed to our prayers, who of us would
not use every effort, by tears, supplication, and sincere repentance,
to avert the misfortune?
Are we in our senses, my dear hearers? Perhaps among all
who listen to me now, ten righteous ones would not be found. It
may be fewer still  What do I perceive, 0 my God! I dare not,
with a fixed eye, Iegard the depths of Thy judgments and justice!
Not more than one, perhaps, would be found among us all! And
this danger affects you not, my dear hearer I You persuade yourself that in this great number who shall perish, you will be the
happy individual! You, who have less reason, perhaps, than any
other to believe it! You, upon whom alone the sentence of death
should fall, were only one of all who hear me to suffer I Great God I
how little are the terrors of Thy law known to the world? n all
ages, the just have shuddered with dread, in reflecting on the severitr




THE SMALL NUMBER OF THE SAVED.                155
and extent of Thy judgments, touching the destinies of me.nt
Alas! what are they laying up in store for the sons of men I
But what are we to conclude from these awful truths? That all
must despair of salvation? God forbid! The impious alone, to
quiet his own feelings in his debaucheries, endeavors to persuade
himself that all men shall perish as well as he. This idea ought not
to be the fruit of the present discourse. It is intended to undeceive
you with regard to the general error, that any one may do whatever
is done by others. To convince you that, in order to merit salvation,
you must distinguish yourself from the rest; that in the midst of the
world you are to live for God's glory, and not follow after the multitude.
When the Jews were led in captivity from Judea to Babylon, a
little before they quitted their own country, the prophet Jeremiah,
whom the Lord had forbid to leave Jerusalem, spoke thus to them:
"Children of Israel, when you shall arrive at Babylon, you will behold the inhabitants of that country, who carry upon their shoulders
gods of silver and gold. All the people will prostrate themselves,
and adore them. But you, tar from allowing yourselves, by these
examples, to be led to impiety, say to yourselves in secret, It is
Thou, O Lord I whom we ought to adore."
Let me now finish, by addressing to you the same words.
At your departure from this temple, you go to enter into another
Babylon. You go to see idols of gold and silver, before which all
men prostrate themselves. You go to regain the vain objects of
human'passions, wealth, glory, and pleasure, which are the gods of
this world, and which almost all men adore. You will see those
abuses which all the world permits, those errors which custom
authorizes, and those debaucheries, which an infamous fashion has
almost constituted as laws. Then, my dear hearer, if you wish to be
of the small number of true Israelites, say, in the secrecy of your
heart, "It is Thou alone, O my God! whom we ought to adore. I
wish not to have connection with a people which know Thee not; I
will have no other law than Thy holy law; the gods which this
foolish multitude adores, are not gods: they are the work of the
hands of men; they will perish with them: Thou alone, O my God I
are immortal; and Thou alone deservest to be adored. The customs of Babylon have no connection with the holy laws of Jerusalem. I will continue to worship Thee with that small number of the
children of Abraham which still, in the midst of an infidel nation,
composes Thy people; with them I will turn all my desires toward
the holy Zion. The singularity of my manners will be regarded as




I56           JOHN BAPTIST MASSILLON.
a weakness; but blessed weakness, O my God I which will give me
strength to resist the torrent of customs, and the seduction of exam.
ple. Thou wilt be my God in the midst of Babylon, as Thou wilt
one day be in Jerusalem above I"
" Ah I the time of the captivity will at last expire. Thou wilt
call to Thy remembrance Abraham and David. Thou wilt deliver
rhy people. Thou wilt transport us to the holy city. Then wilt
Thou alone reign over Israel, and over the nations which at present
know Thee not. All being destroyed, all the empires of the earth,
all the monuments of human pride annihilated, and Thou alone remaining eternal, we then shall know that Thou art the Lord of hosts,
and the only God to be adored!
Behold the fruit which you ought to reap from this discourse I
Live apart. Think, without ceasing, that the great number work
their own destruction. Regard as nothing all customs of the earth,
unless authorized by the law of God, and remember that holy me]
in all ages have been looked upon as a peculiar people.
It is thus that, after distinguishing yourselves from the sinful on
earth, you will be gloriously distinguished from them in eternity I
Now, to God the Father, etc.




DISCOURSE FIFTY.FOURTH,
JAMES SAURIN.
THrs eminent Protestant divine was born at Nismes, in the year
1677, and went with his pious father into exile, to Geneva, after the
repeal of the Edict of Nantes. When seventeen years of age he left
his studies and became a cadet in the army; but in a few years he returned to the study of Philosophy and Divinity; and in the year 1705 was
chosen pastor at the Hague, where he acquired great celebrity as a
preacher, and where, also, his career was terminated by death in the
year 1730.
Saurin possessed vast intellectual powers, and an imagination that
has rarely been equaled. He was less artificial, and more careless and
inelegant, than the three great Catholic preachers, but not less effective.
It has been said that his utterances were like torrents of fire, and their
immediate influence often equal to their character. His sermons were
published in twelve volumes; and the Rev. Robert Robinson, by trans.
lating a large number of them into English (published in England in
six volumes, in this country in two), immortalized his own name and
that of the preacher whom he so fairly and gracefully introduced to
English readers. Perhaps no translation ever retained more faithfully
the spirit of the original. Indeed the sermons have lost nothing by a
change of language. Saurin will always be read for his weighty doctrinal instruction, and his pure, unaffected, and eloquent style. A dis.
tinguished Theological Professor has pronounced the discourse which
follows Saurin's masterpiece, and, in point of structure and composi.
tion, equal to almost any sermon in any language.
THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS.
"Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lust%
whicl war against the souL"-1 PETER, ii. 1.
The words you have heard, my brethren, offer four subjects of
meditation to your minds. First, the nature of the passions-secl




158                   JAMES SAURIN.
ondly, the disorders of them-thirdly, the remedies to be applied —
and lastly, the motives that engage us to subdue them. In the first
place we will give you a general idea of what the Apostle calls
"fleshly lusts," or, in modern style, the passions.  We will examine
secondly, the war which they wage "' against the soul.'  Our third
part will inform you of the means of abstaining from these fleshly
lusts. And in the last place we will endeavor to make you feel the
power of this motive, "as strangers and pilgrims," and to press
home this exhortation of the Apostle, "Dearly beloved, I beseech
you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war
against the soul."
I. In order to understand the nature of the passions, we will
explain the subject by a few preliminary remarks.
I. An intelligent being ought to love every thing that can elevate, perpetuate, and make him happy; and to avoid whatever can
degrade, confine, and render him miserable. This, far from being a
human depravity, is a perfection of nature. Man has it in common
with celestial intelligences, and with God Himself. This reflection
removes a false sense, which the language of St. Peter may seem at
first to convey, as if the Apostle meant by eradicating " fleshly lusts"
to destroy the true interests of man. The most ancient enemies of
the Christian religion loaded it with this reproach, because they did
not understand it; and some superficial people, who know no more of
religion than the surface, pretended to render it odious by the same
means. Under pretense that the Christian religion forbids ambition,
they say it degrades man, and under pretense that it forbids misguided self-love, they say it makes man miserable. A gross error!
A false idea of Christianity I If the Gospel humbles, it is to elevate
us; if it forbids a self-love ill-directed, it is in order to conduct us
to substantial happiness. By " fleshly lusts," St. Peter does not mean
such desires of the heart as put us on aspiring after real happiness
and true glory.
2. An intelligent being united to a body, and lodged, if I may
speak so, in a portion of matter under this law, that according to
the divers motions of this matter he shall receive sensations of pleasare or pain, must naturally love to excite within himself sensations
bf pleasure and to avoid painful feelings. This is agreeable to the
institution of the Creator. He intends, for reasons of adorable wislom, to preserve a society of mankind for several ages on earth.
ro accomplish this design, He has so ordered it that what contributes to the support of the body shall give the soul pleasure, and
that which would dissolve it would give pain, so that by these means




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS.  159
we may preserve ourselves. Aliments are agreeable; the dissolu.
tion of the parts of our bodies is painful; love, hatred, and anger,
properly understood, and exercised to a certain degree, are natural
and fit. The Stoics, who annihilated the passions, did not know
man, and the schoolmen, who to comfort people under the gout or
the stone, told them that a rational man ought not to pay any regard
to what passed in his body, never made many disciples among wise
men. This observation affords us a second clew to the meaning of
the Apostle: at least it gives us a second precaution to avoid an
error. By " fleshly lusts" he does not mean a natural inclination to
preserve the body and the ease of life; he allows love, hatred, and
anger, to a certain degree, and as far as the exercise of them does
not prejudice a greater interest. Observe well this last expression,
as far as may be without prejudice to a greater interest. The truth
of our second reflection depends on this restriction.
3. A being composed of two substances, one of which is more
excellent than the other; a being placed between two interests, one
of which is greater than the other, ought, when these two interests
clash, to prefer the more noble before the less noble, the greater interest before the less. This third principle is a third clew to what
St. Peter calls "lusts," or passions. Man has two substances, and
two interests. As far as he can without prejudicing his eternal interest he ought to endeavor to promote his temporal interest: but
when the two clash he ought to sacrifice the less to the greater.
" Fleshly lusts" is put for what is irregular and depraved in our desires, and what makes us prefer the body before the soul, a temporal
before an eternal interest. That this is the meaning of the Apostle
is clear from his calling these passions or "lusts fleshly."  What is
the meaning of this word? The Scripture generally uses the word
in two senses. Sometimes it is literally and properly put for flesh,
and sometimes it signifies sin. St. Peter calls the passions " fleshly";n both these senses; in the first, because some come from the body,
as voluptuousness, anger, drunkenness; and in the second, because
they spring from our depravity. Hence the Apostle Paul puts
among the works of the flesh both those which have their seat in
the body, and those which have in a manner no connection with it.
"Now the works of the flesh are these, adultery, lasciviousness,
idolatry, heresies, envyings." According to this the "works of the
flesh" are not only such as are seated in the flesh (for envy and
heresy can not be of this sort), but all depraved dispositions.
This is a general idea of the passions: but as it is vague and ob.
scure, we will endeavor to explain it more distinctly, and with this




160                  JAMES SAURIN.
view we will show-first, what the passions do in the mind —next,
what they do in the senses-thirdly, what they are in the imagination-and lastly, what they are in the heart. Four portraits of the
passions, four explications of the condition of man. In order to
connect the matter more closely, as we show you what " fleshly lusts"
are in these four views, we will endeavor to convince you that in
these four respects they " war against the soul." The second part of
our discourse, therefore, which was to treat of the disorders of the
passions, will be included in the first, which explains their nature.
1. The passions produce in the mind a strong attention to what-.
ever can justify and gratify them. The most odious objects may be
so placed as to appear agreeable, and the most lovely objects so as
to appear odious. There is no absurdity so palpable but it may be
made to appear likely; and there is no truth so clear but it may be
made to appear doubtful. A passionate man fixes all the attention
of his mind on such sides of objects as favor his passion, and this is
the source of innumerable false judgings, of which we are every
day witnesses and authors.
If you observe all the passions, you will find they have all this
character. What is vengeance in the mind of a vindictive man? It.
is a fixed attention to all the favorable lights in which vengeance
may be considered; it is a continual study to avoid every odious
light in which the subject may be placed. On the one side there is
a certain deity in the world, who has made revenge a law. This
deity is worldly honor, and at the bar of this judge to forget injuries is mean, and to pardon them cowardice. On the other side
vengeance disturbs society, usurps the office of a magistrate, and
violates the precepts of religion. A dispassionate man, examining
without prejudice this question, Ought I to revenge the injury I
have received? would weigh all these motives, consider each apart,
and all together, and would determine to act according as the most
just and weighty reasons should determine him: but a revengeful
man considers none but the first, he pays no attention to the last;
he always exclaims my honor, my honor; he never says my religion
and my salvation.
What is hatred? It is a close attention to a man's imperfections.
Is any man free? Is any man so imperfect as to have nothing good
in him? Is there nothing to compensate his defects? This man is
not } andsome, but he is wise: his genius is not lively, but his heart
is sincere: he can not assist you with money, but he can give you
much good advice, supported by an excellent example: he is not
either prince, king, or emperor, but he is a man, a Christian, a be



THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 161
liever, and in all these respects he deserves esteem. The passionate
man turns away his eyes from all these advantageous sides, and
attends only to the rest. Is it astonishing that he hates a person in
whom he sees nothing but imperfection? Thus a counselor opens
and sets forth his cause with such artifice that law seems to be clearly
on his side; he forgets one fact, suppresses one circumstance, omits
to draw one inference, which being brought forward to view, entirely
change the nature of the subject, and his client loses his cause. In
the same manner, a defender of a false religion always revolves in
his mind the arguments that seem to establish it, and never recollects
those which subvert it. He will curtail a sentence, cut off what goes
before, leave out what follows, and retain only such detached expressions as seem to countenance his error, but which in connection with
the rest would strip it of all probability. What is still more singular
a, that love to true religion, that love which, under the direction of
reason, opens a wide field of argument and evidence, engages us in
this sort of false judging, when we give ourselves up to it through
passion or prejudice.
This is what the passions do in the mind, and it is easy to comprehend the reason St. Peter had to say in this view, " fleshly lusts
war against the soul." Certainly one of the noblest advantages of a
man is to reason, to examine proofs and weigh motives, to consider
an object on every side, to combine the various arguments that are
alleged either for or against a proposition, in order on these grounds
to regulate our ideas and opinions, our hatred and our love. The
passionate man renounces this advantage, he never reasons in a passion, his mind is limited, his soul is in chains, his " fleshly passions
war against his soul."
Having examined the passions in the mind, let us consider them
in the senses. To comprehend this, recollect what we just now said,
that the passions owe their origin to the Creator, who instituted them
for the purpose of preserving us.  When an object would injure
health or life, it is necessary to our safety that there should be an
emotion in our senses to affect a quick escape from the danger; fear
does this. A man struck with the idea of sudden danger has
a rapidity which he could not have in a tranquil state, or during a
cool trial of his power. It is necessary, when an enemy approaches
to destroy us, that our senses should so move as to animate us with
a power of resistance. Anger does this, for it is a collection of spirits-but allow me to borrow here the words of a modern philosopher,
who has admirably expressed the motions excited by the passions
in our bodies  "Before the sight of an object of passion," says
11




162                   JAMES SAURIN.
he, "the spirits were diffused through all the body to preserve every
part alike, but on the appearance of this new object the whole system
is shaken; the greater part of the animal spirits rush into all the
exterior parts of the body, in order to put it into a condition proper
to produce such motions as are necessary to acquire the good, or to
avoid the evil now present. If it happen that the power of man is
unequal to his wants, these same spirits distribute themselves so as
to make him utter- mechanically certain words and cries, and so as
to spread over his countenance and over the rest of his body an air
capable of agitating others with the same passion with which he himself is moved. For as men and other animals are united together by
eyes and ears, when any one is agitated he necessarily shakes all
others that see and hear, him, and naturally produces painful feelings in their imaginations, which interest them in his relief. The
rest of the spirits rush violently into the heart, the lungs, the liver,
and the other vitals, in order to lay all these parts under contribution, and hastily to derive from them as quick as possible the spirits
necessary for the preservation of the body in these extraordinary
efforts." Such are the movements excited by the passions in the
senses, and all these to a certain degree are necessary for the preservation of our bodies, and are the institutions of our Creator: but
three things are necessary to preserve order in these emotions. First,
they must never be excited in the body without the direction of the
will and the reason. Secondly, they must always be proportional, I
mean, the emotion of fear, for example, must never be, except in
sight of objects capable of hurting us; the emotion of anger must
never be, except in sight of an enemy who actually has both the
will and the power of injuring our well-being. And thirdly, they
must always stop when and where we will they should. When the
passions subvert this order, they violate three wise institutes of our
Creator.
The emotions excited by the passions in our senses are notfree.
An angry man is carried beyond himself in spite of himself. A
voluptuous man receives a sensible impression from an exterior
object, and in spite of all the dictates of reason throws himself into a
flaming fire that consumes him.
The emotions excited by the passions in our senses are not proportional; I mean that a timorous man, for example, turns as pale
at the sight of a fanciful as of a real danger; he sometimes fears a
phantom and a substance alike. A man " whose god is his belly,"
feels his appetite as much excited by a dish fatal to his health as
by one necessary to support his strength, and to keep him alive.




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS  163
The emotions excited by the passions in our senses do not obey
the orders of our will. The movement is an overflow cf spirits
which no reflections can restrain. It is not a gentle fire to give the
blood a warmth necessary to its circulation; it is a volcano pouring
out its flame all liquid and destructive on every side. It is not a
gentle stream, purling in its proper bed, meandering through the
fields, and moistening, refreshing, and invigorating them as it goes,
but it is a rapid flood, breaking down all its banks, carrying every
where mire and mud, sweeping away the harvest, subverting hills
and trees, and carrying away every thing on all sides that oppose its
passage. This is what the passions do in the senses, and do you not
conceive, my brethren, that in this second respect they " war against
the soul?"
They " war against the soul" by the disorders they introduce into
that body which they ought to preserve. They dissipate the spirits,
weaken the memory, wear out the brain. Behold those trembling
hands, those discolored eyes, that body bent and bowed down to the
ground-these are the effects of violent passions. When the body
is in such a state, it is easy to conceive that the soul suffers with it.
The union between the two is so close that the alteration of the one
necessarily alters the other. When the capacity of the soul is absorbed by painful sensations, we are incapable of attending to truth.
If the spirits necessary to support us in meditation be dissipated, we
can no longer meditate. If the brain, which must be of a certain
consistence to receive impressions of objects, has lost that consistence,
it can recover it no more.
They " war against the soul" by disconcerting the whole economy
of man, and by making him consider such sensations of pleasure as
Providence gave him only for the sake of engaging him to preserve
his body as a sort of supreme good, worthy of all his care and attention for its own sake.
They " war against the soul" because they reduce it to a state of
slavery to the body, over which it ought to rule. Is any thing more
unworthy of an immortal soul than to follow no other rule of judging than an agitation of the organs of the body, the heat of the blood,
the motion of animal spirits? And does not this daily happen to a
passionate man? A man who reasons fairly when his senses are
tranquil, does he not reason like an idiot when his senses are agitated? Cool and dispassionate, he thinks he ought to eat and drink
only what is necessary to support his health and his life —at most to
"receive with thanksgiving" such innocent pleasures as religion
allows him to enjoy; but when his senses are agitated, his taste be




164                  JAMES SAURIN.
comes dainty, and he thinks he may glut himself with food, drown
himself in wine, and give himself up without reserve, to all the
excesses of voluptuousness. When his senses were cool and tranquil,
he thought it sufficient to oppose precautions of prudence against the
designs of an enemy to his injury: but when his senses are agitated
he thinks he ought to attack him, fall on him, stab him, kill him.
When he was cool he was free, he was a sovereign, but now that his
senses are agitated, he is a subject, he is a slave. Base submission I
Unworthy slavery! We blush for human nature when we see it in
such bondage. Behold that man, he has as many virtues, perhaps
more, than most men. Examine him on the article of good breeding. He perfectly understands, and scrupulously observes all the
laws of it. Examine him on the point of disinterestedness. He
abounds in it, and to see the manner in which he gives, you would
say he thought he increased his fortune by bestowing it in acts of
benevolence. Examine him concerning religion. He respects the
majesty of it, he always pronounces the name of God with veneration, he never thinks of His works without admiration, or His attributes without reverence or fear. Place this man at a gaming table,
put the dice or the cards in his hand, and you will know him no
more; he loses all self-possession, he forgets politeness, disinterestedness, and religion, he insults his fellow-creatures, and blasphemes his
God. His soul teems with avarice, his body is distorted, his thoughts
are troubled, his temper is changed, his countenance turns pale, his
eyes sparkle, his mouth foams, his spirits are in a flame, he is another
man, no, it is not a man, it is a wild beast, it is a devil.
We never give ourselves up thus to our senses without feeling
some pleasure, and what is very dreadful, this pleasure abides in the
memory, makes deep traces in the brain, in a word, imprints itself
on the imagination —and this leads us to our third article, in which
we are to consider what the passions do in the imagination.
If the senses were excited to act only by the presence of objects
-if the soul were agitated only by the action of the senses, one single
mean would suffice to guard us from irregular passions; that would
be to flee from the object that excites them; but the passions produce other disorders, they leave deep impressions on the imagination.
When we give ourselves up to the senses we feel pleasure, this pleasure strikes the imagination, and the imagination thus struck with the
pleasure it has found, recollects it, and solicits the passionate man tc
return to objects that made him so happy.
Thus old men have sometimes miserable remains of a passion,
which seems to suppose a certain constitution, and which should




THE NATlURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 16;
seem to be extinct, as the constitution implied is no moie; but the
recollection that such and such objects had been the cause of such
and such pleasures is dear to their souls; they love to remember
them, they make them a part of all their conversations; they drew
flattering portraits, and by recounting their past pleasures, indemnify
themselves for the prohibition under which old age has laid them.
For the same reason it is that a worldling, who has plunged himself
into all the dissipations of life, finds it so difficult to renounce the
world when he comes to die. Indeed a body borne down with illness, a nature almost extinct, senses half dead, seem improper habitations of love to sensual pleasure; and yet imagination, struck with
past pleasure, tells this skeleton that the world is amiable, that always
when he went into it he enjoyed a real pleasure, and that, on the
contrary, when he performed religious exercises he felt pain; and
this lively impression gives such a man a present aversion to religion; it incessantly turns his mind toward the object of which death
is about to deprive him, so that, without a miracle of grace, he can
never look toward the objects of religion with desire and pleasure.
We go further. We affirm that the disorders of the passions in
the imagination far exceed those in the senses; the action of the
senses is limited: but that of the imagination is boundless, so that
the difference is almost as great as that between finite and infinite,
if you will pardon the expression. A man who actually takes pleas
ure in debauchery, feels this pleasure, but he does not persuade himself that he feels it more than he does: but a man who indulges his
fancy forms most extravagant ideas, for imagination magnifies some
objects, creates others, accumulates phantom upon phantom, and fills
up a vast space with ideal joys which have no originals in nature.
Hence it comes that we are more pleased with imaginary ideas than
with the actual enjoyment of what we imagine, because imagination
having made boundless promises, it gladdens the soul with the hope
of more to supply the want of what present objects fail of producing.
O deplorable state of man I The littleness of his mind will not
allow him to contemplate any object but that of his passion, while it
is present to his senses; it will not allow him then to recollect the
motives, the great motives, that should impel him to his duty: and
when the object is absent, not being able to offer it to his senses, he
presents it again to his imagination clothed with new and foreign
charms, deceitful ideas of which make up for its absence, and excite
in him a love more violent than that of actual possession, when he
felt at least the folly and vanity of it. 0 horrid war of the passions
agcainst the soul / Shut the door of your closets against the enchanted




166                 JAMES SAURIN.
object, it will enter with you. Try to get rid of it by traversing
plains, and fields, and whole countries; cleave the waves of the sea,
fly on the wings of the wind, and try to put between yourself and
your enchantress the deep, the rolling ocean, she will travel with
you, sail with you, every where haunt you, because wherever you go
you will carry yourself, and within you, deep in your imagination,
the bewitching image impressed.
Let us consider, in fine, the passions in the heart, and the disorders they cause there. What can fill the heart of man? A prophet
has answered this question, and has included all morality in one
point, " my chief good is to draw near to God;" but as God does not
commune with us immediately, while we are in this world, but imparts felicity by means of creatures, he has given these creatures two
characters, which being well examined by a reasonable man, conduct
him to the Creator, but which turn the passionate man aside. On the
one hand, creatures render us happy to a certain degree, this is their
first character: on the other, they leave a void in the soul which
they are incapable of filling, this is their second character. This is
the design of God, and this design the passions oppose. Let us hear
a reasonable man draw conclusions, and let us observe what opposite
conclusions a passionate man draws.
The reasonable man says, creatures leave a void in my soul
which they are incapable of filling: but what effect should this produce in my heart, and what end had God in setting bounds so strait
to that power of making me happy, which He communicated to
them? It was to reclaim me to Himself, to persuade me that He only
can make me happy; it was to make me say to myself, my desires
are eternal, whatever is not eternal is unequal to my desires; my
passions are infinite, whatever is not infinite is beneath my passions,
and God only can satisfy them.
A passionate man, from the void he finds in the creatures, draws
conclusions directly opposite. Each creature in particular is incapable of making me happy: but could I unite them all, could I, so to
speak, extract the substantial from all, certainly nothing would be
wanting to my happiness. In this miserable supposition he becomes
full of perturbation, he launches out, he collects, he accumulates.
It is not enough to acquire conveniences, he must have superfluities.
It is not enough that my name be known in my family, and among
my acquaintance, it must be spread over the whole city, the province,
the kingdom, the four parts of the globe. Every clime illuminated
by the sun shall know that I exist, and that I have a superior genius
It is not enough to conquer some hearts, I will srbdue all, and dis




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF TH3 PASSIONS  167
play the astonishing art of uniting all voices in my favor; men
divided in opinion about every thing else shall agree in one point,
that is, to celebrate my praise. It is not enough to have many inferiors, I must have no master, no equal, I must be a universal monarch, and subdue the whole world; and when I shall have accomplished these vast designs, I will seek other creatures to subdue, and
more worlds to conquer. Thus the passions disconcert the plan of
God! Such are the conclusions of a heart infatuated with passion I
The disciple of reason says, creatures contribute to render me
happy to a certain degree: but this power is not their own. Gross,
sensible, material beings can not contribute to the happiness of a
spiritual creature. If creatures can augment my happiness, it is because God has lent them a power natural only to Himself. God is
then 1he source of felicity, and all I see elsewhere is only an emanation of His essence: but if the streams be so pure, what is the fountain! If effects to be so noble, what is the cause! If rays be so
luminous, what is the source of light from which they proceed I
The conclusions of an impassioned man are directly oppositeSays he, creatures render me happy to a certain degree, therefore
they are the cause of my happiness, they deserve all my efforts, they
shall be my god. Thus the passionate man renders to his aliments,
his gold, his silver, his equipage, his horses, the most noble act of
adoration. For what is the most noble act of adoration? Is it to
build temples?  To erect altars?  To kill victims?  To sacrifice
burnt-offerings? To burn incense? No. It is that inclination of
our heart to union with God, that aspiring to possess Him, that love,
that effusion of soul, which makes us exclaim, " My chief good is to
draw near to God." This homage the man of passion renders to the
object of his passions, "his god is his belly," his " covetousness his
idolatry;" and this is what "fleshly lusts" become in the heart.
They remove us from God, and, by removing us from Him, deprive
us of all the good that proceeds from a union with the Supreme
Good, and thus make war with every part of ourselves, and with
every moment of our duration.
War against our reason, for instead of deriving, by virtue of a
union to God, assistance necessary to the practice of what reason
approves, and what grace only renders practicable, we are given up
to our evil dispositions, and compelled by our passions to do what
our own reason abhors.
War against the regulation of life, for instead of putting on by
virtue of union to God, the "' easy yoke," and taking up the "light
burden" which religion imposes, we become slaves of envy, venge



168                  4AMES SAURIN.
ance and ambition; we are weighed down with a yoke of iron,
which we have no power to get rid of, even though we groan unde*
its intolerable weightiness.
War against conscience, for instead of being justified by virtue
of a union with God, and having "peace with Him through our
Lord Jesus Christ," and feeling that heaven begun, "joy unspeakable and full of glory," by following our passions we become a prey
to distracting fear, troubles without end, cutting remorse, and awfau
earnests of eternal misery.
War on a dying bed, for whereas by being united to God our
death-bed would have become a field of triumph, where the Prince
of life, the Conqueror of death would have made us share His victory, by abandoning ourselves to our passions, we see nothing in a
(lying hour but an awful futurity, a frowning Governor, the bare idea
of which alarms, terrifies, and drives us to despair.
III. We have seen the nature and the disorders of the passions,
now let us examine what remedies we ought to apply. In order to
prevent and correct the disorders, which the passions produce in the
mind, we must observe the following rules:
1. We must avoid precipitance, and suspend our judgment It does
not depend on us to have clear ideas of all things: but we have
power to suspend our judgment till we obtain evidence of the nature
of the object before us. This is one of the greatest advantages of an
intelligent being. A celebrated divine has such a high idea of this
that he maintains this hyperbolical thesis, that "always when we
mistake, even in things indifferent in themselves, we sin, because
then we abuse our reason, the use of which consists in never determining without evidence." Though we suppose this divine has exceeded
the matter, yet it is certain that a wise man can never take too much
pains to form a habit of not judging a point, not considering it as
useful or advantageous till after he has examined it on every side.
"' Let a man," says a philosopher of great name, "let a man only
pass one year in the world, hearing all they say, and believing nothing, entering every moment into himself, and suspending his judgment till truth and evidence appear, and I will esteem him more
learned than Aristotle, wiser than Socrates, and a greater man than
Plato."
2. A man must reform even his education. In every family the
minds of children are turned to a certain point. Every family has
its prejudice, I had almost said its absurdity; and hence it comes to
pass that people despise the profession they do not exercise. Hear
the merchant, he will tell you that nothing so much deserves the at




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PA8bIONS. 169
tention of mankind as trade, as acquiring money by every created
thing, as knowing the value of this, and the worth of that, as taxing,
so to speak, all the works of art, and all the productions of nature.
Hear the man of learning, he will tell you that the perfection of man
consists in literature, that there is a difference as essential between a
scholar and a man of no literature, as between a rational creature and
brute. Hear the soldier, he will tell you that the man of science
is a pedant who ought to be confined to the dirt and darkness of the
schools, that the merchant is the most sordid part of society, and
that nothing is so noble as the profession of arms. One would think,
to hear him talk, that the sword by his side is a patent for preeminence, and that mankind have no need of any people, who can not
rout an army, cut through a squadron, or scale a wall. Hear him
who has got the disease of quality; he will tell you that other men
are nothing but reptiles beneath his feet, that human blood, stained
every where else, is pure only in his veins. That nobility serves for
every thing, for genius, and education, and fortune, and sometimes
even for common sense and good faith. Hear the peasant, he will
tell you that a nobleman is an enthusiast for appropriating to himself the virtues of his ancestors, and for pretending to find in old
quaint names, and in worm-eaten papers, advantages which belong
only to real and actual abilities. As I said before, each family has
its prejudice, every profession has its folly, all proceeding from this
principle, because we consider objects only in one point of view.
To correct ourselves on this article, we must go to the source, examine how our minds were directed in our childhood; in a word, we
must review and reform even our education.
3. In fine, we must, as well as we can, choose a friend wise enough
to know truth, and generous enough to impart it to others; a man
who will show us an object on every side, when we are inclined to
consider it only on one. I say as well as you can, for to give this
rule is to suppose two things, both sometimes alike impracticable;
the one, that such a man can be found; and the other, that he will
be heard with deference. When we are so happy as to find this inestimable treasure, we have found a remedy of marvelous efficacy
against the disorders which the passions produce in the mind. Let
us make the trial. Suppose a faithful friend should address one of
you in this manner. Heaven has united in your favor the most
happy circumstances. The blood of the greatest heroes animates
you, and your name alone is an encomium. Besides this you have
an affluent fortune, and Providence has given you abundance to supPort your dignity, and to discharge every thing that your splendid




170                  JAMES SAURIN.
etation requires. You have also a fine and acute genius, and your
natural talents are cultivated by an excellent education. Your
health seems free from the infirmities of life, and if any man may
hope for a long duration here, you are the man who may expect it.
With all these noble advantages you may aspire at any thing. But
one thing is wanting. You are dazzled with your own splendor, and
your feeble eyes are almost put out with the brilliancy of your
condition. Your imagination, struck with the idea of the prince
whom you have the honor to serve, makes you consider yourself as
a kind of royal personage. You have formed your family on the
plan of the court. You are proud, arrogant, haughty. Your seat
resembles a tribunal, and all your expressions are sentences from
which it is a crime to appeal. As you will never suffer yourself to be
contradicted, you seem to be applauded; but a sacrifice is made to
your vanity and not to your merit, and people bow not to your
reason but to your tyranny. As they fear you avail yourself of your
credit to brave others, each endeavors to oppose you, and to throw
down in your absence the altar he had erected in your presence, and
on which no incense sincerely offered burns, except that which you
yourself put there.
So much for irregular passions in the mind. Let us now lay
down a few rules for the government of the senses.
Before we proceed, we can not help deploring the misery of a
man who is impelled by the disorders of his senses, and the heat of
his constitution, to criminal passions. Such a man often deserves
pity more than indignation. A bad constitution is sometimes compatible with a good heart. We can not think without trembling of
an ungrateful man, a cheat, a traitor, an assassin; for their crimes
always suppose liberty of mind and consent of will: but a man
driven from the post of duty by the heat of his blood, by an overflow of humors, by the fermentation and flame of his spirits, often
sins by constraint, ancL, so to speak, protests against his crime even
while he commits it. Hence we often see angry people become full
of love and pity, always inclined to forgive, or always ready to ask
pardon; while others, cold, calm, tranquil, revolve eternal hatreds in
their souls, and leave them for an inheritance to their children.
However, though the irregularity of the senses diminishes the
atrociousness of the crime, yet it can not excuse those who do not
make continual efforts to correct it. To acknowledge that we are
constitutionally inclined to violate the laws of God, and to live
quietly in practices directed by constitutional heat, is to have the
interior tainted. It is an evidence that the malady which at first




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONiS. 171
attacked only the exterior of the man has communicated itself to all
the frame, and infected the vitals. We oppose this against the frivolous excuses of some sinners, who, while they abandon themselves
like brute beasts to the most guilty passions, lay all the blame on.he misfortune of their constitution. They say their will has no
part in their excesses-they can not change their constitution-and
God can not justly blame them foi irregularities which proceeded
from the natural union of the soul with the body. Indeed they
prove by their talk that they would be very sorry not to have a constitution to serve for an apology for sin, and to cover the licentious.
ness of casting off an obligation, which the law of God, according
to them, requires of none but such as have received from nature the
power of discharging it. If these maxims be admitted, what becomes of the morality of Jesus Christ? What becomes of the commands concerning mortification and repentance? But people who
talk thus, intend less to correct their faults than to palliate them; and
this discourse is intended only for such as are willing to apply means
to free themselves from the dominion of irregular passions.
Certainly the best advice that can be given to a man whose constitution inclines him to sin, is, that he avoid opportunities, and flee
from such objects as affect and disconcert him. It does not depend
on you to be unconcerned in the sight of an object fatal to your innocence: but it does depend on you to keep out of the way of seeing
it. It does not depend on you to be animated at the sight of a
gaming table: but it does depend on you to avoid such whimsical
places, where sharping goes for merit. Let us not be presumptuous.
Let us make diffidence a principle of virtue. Let us remember St.
Peter; he was fired with zeal, he thought every thing possible to his
love, his presumption was the cause of his fall, and many by following his example have yielded to temptation, and have found the truth
of an apocryphal maxim,," he thatloveth danger shall perish therein."
After all, that virtue which owes its firmness only to a want of
an opportunity for vice is very feeble, and it argues very little attain.
ment only to be able to resist our passions in the absence of temptation. I recollect a maxim of St. Paul, "I wrote unto you not to
zompany with fornicators," but I did not mean that you should have
no conversation " with fornicators of this world, for then must ye
needs go out of the world."  Literally, to avoid all objects danger.
ous to our passions, " we must go out of the world." Are there no
remedies adapted to the necessity we are under of living among
mankind? Is there no such thing as correcting, with the assistance
of grace, the irregularities of our constitution, and freeing ourselves




i72                   JAMES SAURIN.
from its do>minion, so that we may be able, if not to seek our ttmpt
ation for the sake of the glory of subduing them, at least to resist
them, and not suffer them to conquer us, when in spite of all oui
caution they will attack us? Three remedies are necessary to our
success in this painful undertaking; to suspend acts —to flee idleness
— to mortify sense.
We must suspend acts. Let us form a just idea of temperament
or constitution. It consists in one of these two things, or in both
together; in a disposition of organs in the nature of animal spirits.
For example, a man is angry when the organs which serve that passion, are more accessible than others, and when his animal spirits are
easily heated. Hence it necessarily follows that two things must be
done to correct constitutional anger; the one, the disposition of the
organs must be changed; and the other, the nature of the spirits
must be changed, so that on the one hand, the spirits no longer finding these organs disposed to give them passage, and on the other
hand the spirits having lost a facility of taking fire, there will be
within the man none of the revolutions of sense, which he could not
resist when they were excited.
A suspension of acts changes the disposition of the organs. The
more the spirits enter into these organs, the more easy is the access,
and the propensity insurmountable; the more acts of anger there are,
the more incorrigible will anger become; because the more acts of
anger there are, the more accessible will the organs of anger be, so that
the animal spirits will naturally fall there by their own motion. The
spirits then must be restrained. The bias they have to the ways to
which they have been habituated by the practice of sin must be
turned, and we must always remember a truth often inculcated, that
is, that the more acts of sin we commit the more difficult to correct
will habits of sin become; but that when by taking pains with ourselves, we have turned the course of the spirits, they will take different ways, and this is done by suspending the acts.
It is not impossible to change even the nature of our animal spirits.
This is done by suspending what contributed to nourish them in a
state of disorder. What contributes to the nature of spirits? Diet,
exercise, air, the whole course of life we live. It is very difficult in
a discourse like this, to give a full catalogue of remedies proper to
regulate the animal spirits and the humors of the body. I believe
it would be dangerous to many people. Some men are so made
that reflections too accurate on this article would be more likely to
increase their vices than to diminish them. However, there is not
one person willing to turn his attention to this subject who is not




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 173
abl, to become a preacher to himself. Let a man enter into himself,
let him survey the history of his excuses, let him examine all circumstances, let him recollect what passed within him on such and such
occasion, let him closely consider what moved and agitated him, and
he will learn more by such a meditation than all sermons and casuistical books can teach him.
The second remedy is to avoid idleness. What is idleness? It is
that situation of soul in which no effort is made to direct the course
of the spirit this way rather than that. What must happen then?
We have supposed that some organs of a man constitutionally irregular are more accessible than others. When we are idle, and make
no efforts to direct the animal spirits, they naturally take the easiest
way, and consequently direct their own course to those organs which
passion has made easy of access. To avoid this disorder, we must
be employed, and always employed. This rule is neither impracticable nor difficult. We do not mean that the soul should be always
on the stretch in meditation or prayer. An innocent recreation, an
easy conversation, agreeable exercise, may have each its place in
occupations of this kind. For these reasons we applaud those, who
make such maxims parts of the education of youth, as either to teach
them an art or employ them in some bodily exercise. Not that we
propose this maxim as it is received in some families, where they
think all the merit of a young gentleman consists in hunting, riding,
or some exercise of that kind; and that of a young lady, in distinguishing herself in dancing, music, or needle-work. We mean, that
these employments should be subordinate to others more serious, and
more worthy of an immortal soul, that they should serve only for
relaxation, so that by thus taking part in the innocent pleasures of the
world, we may be better prepared to avoid the guilty pursuits of it.
The third remedy is mortification of the senses, a remedy which St.
Paul always used, "I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection." Few people have such sound notions. Some casuists have
stretched the subject beyond its due bounds so as to establish this
principle that sinful man can enjoy no pleasure without a crime, because sin having been his delight, pain ought to be forever his lot.
This principle may perhaps be probably considered in regard to unregenerate men: but it can not be admitted in regard to true Christians. Accordingly, we place among those who have unsound notions of mortifications, all such as make it consist in vain practices,
useless in themselves, and having no relation to the principal design
of religion, "bodily exercise profiting little;" they are "commandments of men," in the language of Scripture.




174                  JAMES SAURIN.
But if some have entertained extravagant notions of mortifi.
cation, others have restrained the subject too much. Under pre.ense
that the religion of Jesus Christ is spiritual, they have neglected the
study and practice of evangelical morality; but we have heard the
example of St. Paul, and it is our duty to imitate it. We must " keep
under the body," and "bring it into subjection," the senses must be
bridled by violence, innocent things must often be refused them, in
order to obtain the mastery when they require unlawful things; we
must fast, we must avoid ease, because it tends to effeminacy. AU
this is difficult, I grant: but if the undertaking be hazardous, success will be glorious. Thirty, forty years, employed in reforming an
irregular constitution, ought not to be regretted. What a glory to
have subdued the senses I What a glory to have restored the soul
to its primitive superiority, to have crucified the "body of sin," to
lead it in triumph, and to destroy, that is to annihilate it, according
to an expression of Scriptures, and so to approach those pure spirits,
to whom the motions of matter can make no alteration I
The disorders produced by the passions in the imagination, and
against which also we ought to furnish you with some remedies, are
like those complicated disorders which require opposite remedies,
because they are the effect of opposite causes, so that the means employed to diminish one part not unfrequently increase another. It
should seem at first, that the best remedy which can be applied to
disorders introduced by the passions into the imagination, is well to
consider the nature of the objects of the passions, and thoroughly
to know the world: and yet on the other hand, it may truly be said
that the most certain way of succeeding would be to know nothing
at all about the world. If you know the pleasures of the world, if
you know by experience the pleasure of gratifying a passion, you
will fall into the misfortune we wish you to avoid; you will receive
bad impressions; you will acquire dangerous recollections, and a
seducing memory will be a new occasion of sin: but if you do not
know the pleasures of the world, you will be likely to form ideas
too flattering of it, you will create images more beautiful than the
originals themselves, and by the immense value you set upon the
victim, when you are just going to offer it up perhaps you will re.
treat, and not make the sacrifice. Hence we often see persons whom
the superstition or avarice of their families has in childhood confined in a nunnery (suppose it were allowable in other cases, yet in
this case done prematurely), I say, these persons not knowing the
world, wish for its pleasures with more ardor than if they had actu.
ally experienced them. So they who have never been in company




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 175
with the great, generally imagine that their society is full of charmb,
that all is pleasure in their company, and that a circle of rich ano
fashionable people sitting in an elegant apartment is far more lively
and animated than one composed of people of inferior rank, and
middling fortune.  Hence also it is that they who, after having
lived a dissipated life, have the rare happiness of renouncing it, do
so with more sincerity than others, who never knew the vanity of
such a life by experience. So very different are the remedies for
disorders of the imagination.
But as in complicated disorders, to which we have compared
them, a wise physician chiefly attends to the most dangerous complaint, and distributes his remedies so as to counteract those which
are less fatal, we will observe the same method on this occasion.
Doubtless the most dangerous way to obtain a contempt for the
pleasures of the world, is to get an experimental knowledge of them,
in order to detach ourselves more easily from them by the thorough
sense we have of their vanity. We hazard a fall by approaching
too near, and such very often is the ascendency of the world over
us, that we can not detach ourselves from it though we are disgusted
with it. Let us endeavor then to preserve our imagination pure;
let us abstain from pleasure to preclude the possibility of remembering them; let retirement, and, if it be practicable, perpetual privacy, from the moment we enter into the world to the day we quit
it, save us from all bad impressions, so that we may never know the
effects which worldly objects would produce in our passions. This
method, sure and effectual, is useless and impracticable in regard to
such as have received bad. impressions on their imagination. People of this character ought to pursue the second method we mentioned, that is to profit by their losses, and derive wisdom from their
errors. When you recollect sin, you may remember the folly and
pain of it. Let the courtier whose imagination is yet full of the
vain glory of a splendid court, remember the intrigue he has known
there, the craft, the injustice, the treachery, the dark and dismal
plans that are formed and executed there.
I would advise such a man, when his passions solicit him to sin,
to call in the aid of some other idea to strike and affect his imagination. Let him make choice of that out of the truths of religion
which seems most likely to impress his mind, and let him learn the
art of instantly opposing impression against impression, and image
against image; for example, let him often fix his attention on death,
judgment, and hell; let him often say to himself, I must die soon,
I must stand before a severe tribunal, and appear in the presence of




176                  JAMES SAURIN.
an impartial judge; let him go down in thought into that gulf,
where the wicked expiate in eternal torments their momentary
pleasures; let him think he hears the sound of the piercing cries of
the victims whom  divine justice sacrifices in hell: let him  ofite
weigh in his mind the "chains of darkness" that load miserable
creatures in hell; let him often approach the fire that consumes
them; let him, so to speak, scent the smoke that rises up forever
and ever; let him often think of eternity, and place himself in that
awful moment in which " the angel will lift up his hand to heaven,
and swear by him that liveth forever and ever, that there shall be
time no longer;" and let the numerous reflections furnished by all
these subjects be kept as corps de reserve, always ready to fly to his
aid, when the enemy approaches to attack him.
In fine, to heal the disorders which the passions produce in the
heart, two things must be done. First, the vanity of all the creatures must be observed; and this will free us from the desire of possessing and collecting the whole in order to fill up the void which
single enjoyments leave. Secondly, we must ascend from creatures
to the Creator, in order to get rid of the folly of attributing to the
world the perfection and sufficiency of God.
Let us free our hearts from an avidity for new pleasures by comprehending all creatures in our catalogue of vanities. I allow, inconstancy, and love of novelty are in some sense rational. It is
natural for a being exposed to trouble to choose to change his condition, and as that in which he is yields certain trouble, to try
whether another will not be something easier. It is natural to a
man who has found nothing but imperfect pleasure in former enjoyments, to desire new objects. The most noble souls, the greatest
geniuses, the largest hearts, have often the most inconstancy and
love of novelty, because the extent of their capacity and the space
of their wishes make them fee], more than other men, the diminutiveness and incompetency of all creatures. But the misfortune is,
man can not change his situation without entering into another
almost like that from which he came. L:t us persuade ourselves
that there is nothing substantial in creatures, that all conditions, besides characteri of vanity common to all human things, have some
imperfections peculiar to themselves. If you rise out of obscurity,
you will not have the troubles of obscurity, but you will have those
of conspicuous stations; you will make talk for every body, you
will be exposed to envy, you will be responsible to each individual
for your conduct. If you quit solitude, you will not have the troubles of solitude, but you will have those of society; you will live




THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 17'T
ander restraint, you will lose your liberty, inestimable liberty, the
greatest treasure of mankind, you will have to bear with the faults
of all people connected with you. If heaven gives you a family,
you will not have the troubles of such as have none, but you will
have others necessarily resulting from domestic connections; you
will multiply your miseries by the number of your children, you
will fear for their fortune, you will be in pain about their health, and
you will tremble for fear of their death. My brethren, I repeat it
again, there is nothing substantial in this life. Every condition has
difficulties of its own as well as the common inanity of all human
things. If, in some sense, nothing ought to surprise us less than the
inconstancy of mankind and their love of novelty, in another view,
nothing ought to astonish us more, at least there is nothing more
weak and senseless. A man who thinks to remedy the vanity of
earthly things by running from one object to another, is like him
who, in order to determine whether there be in a great heap of
stones any one capable of nourishing him, should resolve to taste
them all one after another. Let us shorten our labor. Let us put
all creatures into one class. Let us cry, vanity in all. If we deter
mine to pursue new objects, let us choose such as are capable of sa.
isfying us. Let us not seek them here below. They are not to be
found in this old world, which God has cursed. They are in the
It new heavens, and the new earth," which religion promises. To
comprehend all creatures in a catalogue of vanities is an excellent
rule to heal the heart of the disorders of passion.
Next we must frequently ascend from creatures to the Creator,
and cease to consider them as the supreme good. We intend here a
devotion of all times, places, and circumstances; for, my brethren,
one great source of depravity in the most eminent saints is to re.
strain the spirit of religion to certain times, places, and circumstances. There is an art of glorifying God by exercising religion
every where. "Whether ye eat or drink, or whatsoever you do, do
ail to the glory of God." Do you enjoy the pleasures of sense?
Say to yourself, God is the author of this pleasure. The nourishment
I derive from my food is not necessarily produced by aliments, they
have no natural power to move my nerves, God has communicated
it to them; there is no necessary connection between the motions
of my senses and agreeable sensations in my soul, it is God who has
established the union between motion and sensation. The particles
emitte d by this flower could not necessarily move the nerves of my
smell, it is God who has established this law; the motion of my
smelling nerves can not naturally excite a sensation of agreeable
12




178                   JAMES SAURIN.
odor in my soul, it is God who has established this union; and so
of the rest. God is supreme happiness, the source from which all
the charms of creatures proceed. He is the light of the sun, the
flavor of food, the fragrance of odors, the harmony of sounds, He is
whatever is capable of producing real pleasure, because He eminently possesses all felicity, and because all kinds of felicity flow
from Him as their spring. Because we love pleasure we ought to
love God, from whom pleasure proceeds; because we love pleasure
we ought to abstain from it, when God prohibits it, because He is
infinitely able to indemnify us for all the sacrifices we make to His
orders. To ascend fiom creatures to the Creator is the last remedy
we prescribe for the disorders of the passions. Great duties they
are: but they are founded on strong motives.
Of these St. Peter mentions one of singular efficacy, that is, that
we are "strangers and pilgrims" upon earth. "Dearly beloved,
I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts,
which war against the soul."  The believers to whom the Apostle
wrote this epistle were " strangers and pilgrims" in three senses-as
exiles —as Christians-and as mortals.
1. As exiles.  This epistle is addressed to such strangers as
were scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and
Bithynia. But who were these strangers? Commentators are
divided. Some think they were Jews who had been carried out of
their country in divers revolutions under Tiglath Pileser, Shalmaneser, Nebuchadnezzar, and Ptolemy. Others think they were the
Jewish Christians who fled on account of the martyrdom of Stephen.
Certain it is these Christians were stranger and probably exiles for
religion. Now people of this character have special motives to govern their passions.
Strangers are generally very little beloved in the place of their
exile. Although rational people treat them with hospitality; though
nature inspires some with respect for the wretched of every character; though piety animates some with veneration for people firm
in their religious sentiments; yet, it must be allowed, the bulk
of the people usually see them with other eyes; they envy them
the air they breathe, and the earth they walk on; they consider
them as so many usurpers of their rights; and they think that
as much as exiles partake of the benefits of government, and,he liberty of trade, so much they retrench from the portion of the
natives.
Besides, the people commonly judge of merit by fortune, and as
fortune and banishment seldom go together, popular prejudice sel



THE NATURE AND CONTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 17i
dom runs high in favor of exiles. Jealousy views them with a suspicious eye, malice imputes crimes to them, injustice accuses them
for public calamities...... we will not enlarge. Let an invio.
lable fidelity to the state, an unsuspected love to government, an
unreserved conformity to religion, silence accusation, and compel, so
to speak, an esteem that is not natural and free. Moreover, religious exiles have given up a great deal for conscience, and they must
choose either to lose the reward of their former labors, or to persevere. A man who has only taken a few easy steps in religion, if he
let loose his passions, may be supposed rational in this, his life is all
of a piece. He considers present interest as the supreme good, and
he employs himself wholly in advancing his present interest, he
lays down a principle, he infers a consequence, and he makes sin
produce all possible advantage. An abominable principle certainly,
but a uniform train of principle and consequence; a fatal advantage
in a future state, but a real advantage in the present: but such a
stranger as we have described, a man banished his country for religion, if he continues to gratify fleshly passions, is a contradictory
creature, a sort of idiot, who is at one and the same time a martyr
to vice and a martyr to virtue. He has the fatal secret of rendering both time and eternity wretched, and arming against himself
heaven and earth, God and Satan, paradise and hell. On the one
hand, for the sake of religion he quits every thing dear, and renounces the pleasure of his native soil, the society of his friends,
family connections, and every prospect of preferment and fortune;
thus he is a martyr for virtue, by this he renders the present life
inconvenient, and arms against himself the world, Satan, and hell.
On the other hand, he stabs the practical part of religion, violates all
the sacred laws of austerity, retirement, humility, patience, and love,
all which religion most earnestly recommends; by so doing he be —
comes a martyr for sin, renders futurity miserable, and arms against
himself God, heaven, and eternity. The same God who forbade:
superstition and idolatry, enjoined all the virtues we have enumerated, and prohibited every opposite vice. If men be determined to
be damned, better go the broad than the narrow way. Who but a
madman would attempt to go to hell by encountering the difficulties that lie in the way to heaven I
2. The believers to whom Peter wrote were strangers as Chris —
takns, and therefore strangers because believers. What is the funda,
mental maxim of the Christian religion? Jesus Christ told Pilate,
" My kingdom is not of this world."  This is the maxim of a Christian, the first great leading principle, " his kingdom  is not of this




180                 JAMES SIURIN.
world;" his happiness and misery, his elevation and depression, de.
pend on nothing in this world.
The first principle is the ground of the Apostle's exhortation.
The passions destroy this maxim by supposing the world capable of
making us happy or miserable. Revenge supposes our honor to
depend on the world, on the opinion of those idiots who have determined that a man of honor ought to revenge an affront. Ambition
supposes our elevation to depend on the world, that is, on the dignities which ambitious men idolize. Avarice supposes our riches
depend on this world, on gold, silver, and estates.
These are not the ideas of a Christian. His honor is not of this
world, it depends on the ideas of God, who is a just dispenser of
glory. His elevation is not of this world, it depends on thrones and
crowns which God prepares. His riches are not of this world, they
depend on treasures in heaven, where " thieves do not break through
and steal." It is allowable for a man educated in these great princiciples, but whose infirmity prevents his always thinking on them; it
is indeed allowable for a man who can not always bend his mind to
reflection, meditation, and elevation above the world; it is indeed
allowable for such a man sometimes to unbend his mind, to amuse
himself with cultivating a tulip, or embellishing his head with a
crown; but that this tulip, that this crown should seriously occupy
such a man-that they should take up the principal attention of a
Christian who has such refined ideas and such glorious hopes, this,
this is entirely incompatible.
3. In fine, we are strangers and pilgrims by necessity of nature
as mortal men. If this life were eternal, it would be a question
whether it were more advantageous for man to gratify his passions
than to subdue them-whether the tranquillity, the equanimity, the
calm of a man perfectly free and entirely master of himself, would
not be preferable to the troubles, conflicts, and turbulence of a man
in bondage to his passions. Passing this question, we will grant
that were this life eternal, prudence and self-love, well understood,
would require some indulgence of passion. In this case there would
be an immense distance between the rich and the poor, and riches
should be acquired; there would be an immense distance between
the high and the low, and elevation should be sought; there would
be an immense distance between him who mortified his senses and
him who gratified them, and sensual pleasures would be requisite.
But death, death renders all these things alike; at least it makes
so little difference between the one and the other, that it is hardly
discernible. The most sensible motive therefore to abate the paso




:HE NATURE AND CCNTROL OF THE PASSIONS. 181
sions, is death. The tomb is the best course of morality. Study
avarice in the coffin of a miser; this is the man who accumulated
heap upon heap, riches upon riches. See a few boards inclose him
and a few square inches of earth contain him. Study ambition in the
grave of that enterprising man; see his noble designs, his extensive
projects, his boundless expedients are all shattered and sunk in this
fatal gulf of human projects. Approach the tomb of the proud man,
and there investigate pride; see the mouth that pronounced lofty
expressions, condemned to eternal silence, the piercing eyes that convulsed the world with fear, covered with a midnight gloom; the formidable arm, that distributed the destinies of mankind, without motion
and life. Go to the tomb of the nobleman, and there study quality;
behold his magnificent titles, his royal ancestors, his flattering inscriptions, his learned genealogies, are all gone, or going to be lost with
himself in the same dust. Study voluptuousness at the grave of the
voluptuous; see, his senses are destroyed, his organs broken to
pieces, his bones scattered at the grave's mouth, and the whole temple of sensual pleasure subverted from its foundation.
Here we finish this discourse. There is a great difference between
this and other subjects of discussion. When we treat of a point of
doctrine, it is sufficient that you hear it, and remember the consequences drawn from it. When we explain a difficult text, it is
enough that you understand it and recollect it. When we press
home a particular duty of morality, it is sufficient that you aljply it
to the particular circumstance to which it belongs.
But what regards the passions is of universal and perpetual use.
We always carry the principles of these passions within us, and we
should always have assistance at hand to subdue them. Always
surrounded with objects of our passions, we should always be guarded
against them. We should remember these things when we see the
benefits of fortune, to free ourselves from an immoderate attachment
to them; before human grandeur to despise it; before sensual objects
to subdue them; before our enemy, to forgive him; before friends,
children, and families, to hold ourselves disengaged from them. We
should always examine in what part of ourselves the passions hold
their throne, whether in the mind, the senses, or the imagination, or
the heart. We should always examine whether they have depraved
the heart, defiled the imagination, perverted the senses, or blinded
the mind. We should ever remember that we are strangers upon
earth, that to this our condition calls us, our religion invites us, and
our nature compels us.
But alas! It is this, it is this general influence which these ex




182                 JAMES SAURIN.
hortations ought to have over our lives, that makces us fear we have
addressed them to you in vain. When we treat of a point of doc.
trine, we may persuade ourselves it has been understood. When we
explain a difficult text, we flatter ourselves we have thrown some
light upon it. When we urge a moral duty, we hope the next occa.
sion will bring it to your memory: and yet how often have we
deceived ourselves on these articles l How often have our hopes
been vain I How often have you sent us empty away, even though
we demanded so little! What will be done to-day?  Who that
knows a little of mankind, can flatter himself that a discourse intended, in regard to a great number, to change all, to reform all, to renew
all, will be directed to its true design!
But, O God, there yet remains one resource, it is Thy grace, it is
Thine aid, grace that we have a thousand times turned into lasciviousness, and which we have a thousand times rejected; yet after all
assisting grace which we most humbly venture to implore. When
we approach the enemy, we earnestly beseech Thee " teach our hands
to war, and our fingers to fight!" When we did attack a town, we
fervently besought Thee to render it accessible to us! Our prayers
entered heaven, our enemies fled before us, Thou didst bring us into
the strong city, and didst lead us into Edom. The walls of many a
Jericho fell at the sound of our trumpets, at the sight of Thine ark,
and the approach of Thy priest: but the old man is an enemy far
more formidable than the best disciplined armies, and it is harder to
conquer the passions than to beat down the walls of a city! O help
us to subdue this old man, as Thou hast assisted us to overcome
other enemies I Enable us to triumph over our passions as Thou
hast enabled us to succeed in leveling the walls of a city! Stretch
out Thy holy arm in our favor, in this Church as in the field of battle I So be the Protector both of the State and the Church, crown
our efforts with such success that we may offer the most noble songi
of praise to Thy glory. Amen.




DISCOURSE FIFTY-FIFTH.
ALEXANDER VINET.
THE "Chalmers of Switzerland," as Vinet has been styled by
D'Aubigne and others, was born at Lausanne in 1797. and educated in
his native town. At the early age of twenty years hA was made Professor of the French language in the University of Bagel, and not long
after was ordained at Lausanne; where, in 1837, he was appointed
Professor of Theology in the Institution where he had been educated. L1
this office he remained till the time of his death, the 4th of May, 1847.
Vinet was a champion of evangelical orthodoxy, a brilliant preacher,
a profound philosopher, and an ardent Christian. MVany of his discourses and essays were translated into English in thin country, some
years since, by the Rev. R. Turnbull, D.D., and have ebtained a wide
popularity. A critic has said of these discourses, " We scarcely know
whether to praise most the brilliancy of the author, or of the translator."
Mr. Chase, in his "Modern French Literature," says of Vinet's works,
" They unite the extensive erudition and elevated views which characterize the writers beyond the Rhine with the charms of style, the exquisite
Atticism, which belong to the writers of France."  He adds that "no
master of the French language, since the days of Pascal, has presented
a more perfect combination of high inellectual and moral endowments."
The following discourse is worthy of Vinet's reputation. A paragraph
in the beginning, with reference to a previous discourse, is omineAd.
THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY.
"Things which have not entered into the heart of man."-1 COR. ii 9.
"I do not comprehend, therefore I do not believe."  "The Gospel is full of mysteries, therefore I do not receive the Gospel:"Such is one of the favorite arguments of infidelity. To see how
much is made of this, and what confidence it inspires, we might
believe it solid, or, Pt least, specious; but it is neither the one nor the




184                ALEXANDER  VINE
other; it will not bear the slightest attention, the most superficial
examination of reason; and if it still enjoys some favor in the world,
this is but a proof of the lightness of our judgments upon things
worthy of our most serious attention.
TJpon what, in fact, does this argument rest? Upon the claim
oL comprehending every thing in the religion which God has offered
or could offer us. A claim equally unjust, unreasonable, useless.
This we proceed to develop.
1. In the first place, it is an unjust claim. It is to demand of God
what He does not owe us. To prove this, let us suppose that God
aias given a religion to man, and let us further suppose that religion
to be the Gospel: for this absolutely changes nothing to the argument. We may believe that God was free, at least, with reference
to us, to give us or not to give us a religion; but it must be admitt,:d that in granting it He contracts engagements to us, and that the
first favor lays Him under a necessity of conferring other favors.
For this is merely to say that God must be consistent, and that He
finishes what He has begun. Since it is by a written revelation lie
manifests His designs respecting us, it is necessary He should fortify
that revelation by all the authority which would at least determine
us to receive it; it is necessary He should give us the means of
judging whether the men who speak to us in His name are really
sent by Him; in a word, it is necessary we should be assured that
the Bible is truly the word of God.
It would not indeed be necessary that the conviction of each of
us should be gained by the same kind of evidence. Some shall be
led to Christianity by the historical or external arguments; they
shall prove to themselves the truth of the Bible as the truth of all
history is proved; they shall satisfy themselves that the books of
which it is composed are certainly those of the times and of the
authors to which they are ascribed. This settled, they shall compare the prophecies contained in these ancient documents with the
events that have happened in subsequent ages; they shall assure
themselves of the reality of' the miraculous facts related in these
books, and shall thence infer the necessary intervention of Divine
power, which alone disposes the forces of nature, and can alone interrupt or modify their action. Others, less fitted for such investigations, shall be struck with the internal evidence of the Holy Scriptures. Finding there the state of their souls perfectly described, their
wants fully expressed, and the true remedies for their maladies completely indicated; struck with a character of truth and candor
which nothing can imitate; in fine, feeling themselves in their inner




THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY.                  186
nature moved, changed, renovated, by the mysterious influence of
these Holy Writings, they shall acquire, by such means, a conviction
of which they can not always give an account to others, but which
is not the less legitimate, irresistible, and immovable. Such is the
double road by which an entrance is gained into the asy!'.m of faith.
But it was due from the wisdom of God, from His justice, and, we
venture to say it, from the honor of His government, that He should
open to man this double road; for, if He desired man to be saved
by knowledge, on the same principle He engaged Himself to furnish
him the means of knowledge.
Behold, whence come the obligations of the Deity with reference
to us-which obligations He has fulfilled. Enter on this double
method of proof. Interrogate history, time and places, respecting
the authenticity of the Scriptures; grasp all the difficulties, sound
all the objections; do not permit yourselves to be too easily convinced; be the more severe upon that book, as it professes to contain
the sovereign rile of your life, and the disposal of your destiny;
you are permitted to do this, nay, you are encouraged to do it, provided you proceed to the investigation with the requisite capacities
and with pure intentions. Or, if you prefer another method, examine, with an honest heart, the contents of the Scriptures; inquire,
while you run over the words of Jesus, if ever man spake like this
Man; inquire if the wants of your soul, long deceived, and the
anxieties of your spirit, long cherished in vain, do not, in the teaching and work of Christ, find that satisfaction and repose which no
wisdom was ever able to procure you; breathe, if I may thus express myself, that perfume of truth, of candor and purity, which exhales o.iom every page of the Gospel; see, if, in all these respects, it
does not bear the undeniable seal of inspiration and divinity.
Finally, test it, and if the Gospel produces upon you a contrary
effect, return to the books and the wisdom of men, and ask of them
what Christ has not been able to give you.
But if, neglecting these two ways, made accessible to you, and
trodden by the feet of ages, you desire, before all, that the Christian
religion should, in every point, render itself comprehensible to your
mind, and complacently strip itself of all mysteries; if you wish to
penetrate beyond the vail, to find there, not the aliment which gives
life to the soul, but that which would gratify your restless curiosity,
I maintain that you raise against God a claim the most indiscreet,
the most rash and unjust; for He has never engaged, either tacitly
or expressly, to discover to you the secret which your eye craves;
and such audacious importunity is fit only to excite His indignation.




186               ALEXANDER VINET.
He has given you what He owed you, more indeed than He owed
you;-the rest is with Himself.
If a claim so unjust could be admitted, where, I ask you, would
be the limit of your demands? Already you require more from
God than He has accorded to angels; for these eternal mysteries
whlich trouble you-the harunvny of the Divine prescience with human freedom-the origin of evil and its ineffable remedy-the incarnation of the eternal WORD-the relations of the God-man with
his Father —the atoning virtue of His sacrifice-the regenerating
efficacy of the Spirit-comforter —all these things are secrets, the
knowledge of which is hidden from angels themselves, who, according to the word of the Apostle, stoop to explore their depths, and
can not.
If you reproach the Eternal for having kept the knowledge of
these Divine mysteries to Himself, why do you not reproach Him
for the thousand other limits He has prescribed to you? Why not
reproach Him for not having given you wings like a bird, to visit
the regions which, till now, have been scanned only by your eyes?
Why not reproach Him for not giving you, besides the five senses
with which you are provided, ten other senses which He has perhaps granted to other creatures, and which procure for them perceptions of which you have no idea? Why not, in fine, reproach Him
for having caused the darkness of night to succeed the brightness
of day invariably on the earth? Ah I you do not reproach Him for
that. You love that night which brings rest to so many fatigued bodies
and weary spirits; which suspends, in so many wretches, the feeling
of grief; —that night, during which orphans, slaves, and criminals
cease to be, because over all their misfortunes and sufferings it
spreads, with the opiate of sleep, the thick vail of oblivion; you
love that night which, peopling the deserts of the heavens with ten
thousand stars, not known to the day, reveals the infinite to our ravished imagination.
Well, then, why do you not, for a similar reason, love the night
of divine mysteries-night, gracious and salutary, in which reason
humbles itself, and finds refreshment and repose; where the darkness even is a revelation; where one of the principal attributes of
God, immensity, discovers itself much more fully to our mind;
where, in fine, the tender relations He has permitted us to form with
lIimself, are guarded from all admixture of familiarity by the
thought that the Being who has humbled Himself to us, is, at the
same time, the inconceivable God who reigns before all time, who
includes in Himself all existences and all conditions of existence,




THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY.                 187
the center of all thought, the law of all law, the supreme and final
reason of every thing I So that, if you are just, instead of reproaching Him for the secrets of religion, you will bless Him that He has
envelope d you in mysteries.
2. But this claim is not only unjust toward God; it is also in
itself exceedingly unreasonable.
What is religion? It is God putting Himself in communication
with man; the Creator with the creature, the infinite with the finite.
There already, without going further, is a mystery; a mystery common to all religious, impenetrable in all, religions. If then, every
thing which is a mystery offends you, you are arrested on the
threshold, I will not say of Christianity, but of every religion; I
say, even of that religion which is called natural, because it rejects
revelation and miracles; for it necessarily implies, at the very least,
a connection, a communication of some sort between God and man
-the contrary being equivalent to atheism. Your claim prevents
you from having any belief; and because you have not been willing to be Christians, it will not allow you to be Deists.
" It is of no consequence," you say, " we pass over that difficulty; we suppose between God and us connections we can not con-,'eive; we admit them because they are necessary to us. But this
is the only step we are willing to take: we have already yielded too
much to yield more." Say more-say you have granted too much
not to grant much more, not to grant all I You have consented to
admit, without comprehending it, that there may be communications from God to you, and from you to God. But consider well
what is implied in such a supposition. It implies that you are dependent, and yet free-this you do not comprehend;-it implies
that the Spirit of God can make itself understood by your spiritthis you do not comprehend; —it implies that your prayers may exert an influence on the will of God-this you do not comprehend.
It is necessary you should receive all these mysteries, in order to
establish with God connections the most vague and superficial, and
by the very side of which atheism is placed. And when, by a
powerful effort with yourselves you have done so much as to admit
these mysteries, you recoil from those of Christianity I You have
accepted the foundation, and refuse the superstructure I You have
accepted the principle and refuse the details I You are right, no
doubt, so soon as it is proved to you, that the religion which contains these mysteries does not come from God; or rather, that these
mysteries contain contradictory idleas. But you are not justified in
denying them, fo.. the sole reason that you do not understand them;




188               ALEXANDER V:NET.
and the reception you have given to the first kind of mysteries corn
pels you, by the same rule, to receive the others.
This is not all. Not only are mysteries an inseparable part, Jay,
the very substance of all religion, but it is absolutely impossible that
a true religion should not present a great number of mysteries. If
it is true, it ought to teach more truths respecting God and Divine
things than any other, than all others together; but each of these
truths has a relation to the infinite, and by consequence borders on
a mystery. How should it be otherwise in religion, when it is thus
in nature itself? Behold God in nature I The more He gives us to
contemplate, the more He gives to astonish us. To each creature is
attached some mystery. A grain of sand is an abyss! Now, if the
manifestation which God has made of Himself in nature suggests to
the observer a thousand questions which can not be answered, how
will it be, when to that first revelation, another is added; when God
the Creator and Preserver reveals Himself under new aspects as God
the Reconciler and Saviour? Shall not mysteries multiply with discoveries? With each new day shall we not see associated a new
night? And shall we not purchase each increase of knowledge with
an increase of ignorance? Has not the doctrine of grace, so necessary, so consoling, alone opened a profound abyss, into which, for
eighteen centuries, rash and restless spirits have been constantly
plunging?
It is, then, clearly necessary that Christianity should, more than
any other religion, be mysterious, simply because it is true. Like
mountains, which, the higher they are, cast the larger shadows, the
Gospel is the more obscure and mysterious on account of its sublimity. After this, will you be indignant that you do not comprehend
every thing in the Gospel? It would, forsooth, be a truly surprising thing if the ocean could not be held in the hollow of your hand,
or uncreated wisdom within the limits of your intelligencel It
would be truly unfortunate if a finite being could not embrace the
infinite, and that, in the vast assemblage of things there should be
some idea beyond its grasp I In other words, it would be truly
unfortunate if God Himself should know something which man does
not know I
Let us acknowledge, then, how insensate is such a claim when it
is made with reference to religion.
But let us also recollect how much, in making such a claim, we
shall be in opposition to ourselves; for the submission we dislike in
religion, we cherish in a thousand other things. It happens to us
every day to admit things we do not understand, and to do so with



THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY.                189
out the least repugnance. The things, the knowledge of which is
refused us, are much more numerous than we perhaps think. Few
diamonds are perfectly pure; still fewer truths are perfectly clear.
The union of our soul with our body is a mystery-our most familiar emotions and affections are a mystery-the action of thought and
of will is a mystery-our very existence is a mystery. Why do we
admit these various facts? Is it because we understand them? No
certainly, but because they are self-evident, and because they are
truths by which we live. In religion we have no other course to
take. We ought to know whether it is true and necessary; and
once convinced of these two points, we ought, like the angels, to
submit to the necessity of being ignorant of some things. And why
do we not submit cheerfully to a privation which, after all, is not
one?
3. To desire the knowledge of mysteries is to desire what is
utterly useless; it is to raise, as I have said before, a claim the most
vain and idle. What, in reference to us is the object of the Gospel?
Evidently to regenerate and save us. But it attains this end wholly
by the things it reveals. Of what use would it be to know those it
conceals from us? We possess the knowledge which can enlighten
our consciences, rectify our inclinations, renew our hearts; what
should we gain if we possessed other knowledge? It infinitely concerns us to know that the Bible is the word of God; does it equally
concern us to know in what way the holy men that wrote it were
moved by the Holy Ghost? It is of infinite moment to us to know
that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, need we know precisely in what
way the Divine and human natures are united in His adorable person? It is of infinite importance for us to know that unless we are
born again we can not enter the kingdom of God, and that the Holy
Spirit is the Author of the new birth —shall we be further advanced
if we know the Divine process by which that wonder is performed?
Is it not enough for us to know the truths that save? Of what use,
then, would it be to know those which have not the slightest bearing
on our salvation?  "Though I know all mysteries," says St. Paul,
4' atid have not charity, I am nothing." St. Paul was content not to
know, provided he had charity; shall not we, following his example,
be content also without knowledge, provided that, like him, we have
charity, that is to say, life?
But some one will say "If the knowledge of mysteries is really
without influence on our salvation, why have they been indicated to
us at all?" What if it should be to teach us not to be too prodigal
of our whe"efoi a I if it should be to serve as an exercise of owu




190                ALEXANDER VINET.
faith, a test of our submission! But we will not stop with such a
"eply.
Observe, I pray you, in what manner the mysteries of which you
complain have taken their part in religion. You readily perceive
they are not by themselves, but associated with truths which have a
direct bearing on your salvation. They contain them, they serve to
envelop them; but they are not themselves the truths that save. It
is with these mysteries as it is with the vessel that contains a medicinal
draught-it is not the vessel that cures, but the draught; yet the
draught could not be presented without the vessel. Thus each truth
that saves is contained in a mystery, which, in itself, has no powei
to save. So the great work of expiation is necessarily attached to
the incarnation of the Son of God, which is a mystery; so the sanctifying graces of the new covenant are necessarily connected with
the effluence of the Holy Spirit, which is a mystery; so, too, the
divinity of religion finds a seal and an attestation in the miracles,
which are mysteries. Every where the light is born from darkness,
and darkness accompanies the light. These two orders of truths are
so united, so interlinked, that you can not remove the one without
the other, and each of the mysteries you attempt to tear from relig.
ion would carry with it one of the truths which bear directly on your
regeneration and salvation. Accept the mysteries, then, not as truths
that can save you, but as the necessary conditions of the merciful
work of the Lord in your behalf.
The true point at issue in reference to religion is this:-Does the
religion which is proposed to us, change the heart, unite to God, prepare for heaven? If Christianity produces these effects, we will
leave the enemies of the cross free to revolt against its mysteries, and
tax them with absurdity. The Gospel, we will say to them, is then
an absurdity; you have discovered it. But behold what a new species
of absurdity that certainly is which attaches man to all his duties,
regulates human life better than all the doctrines of sages, plants in
his bosom harmony, order, and peace, causes him joyfully to fulfill
all the offices of civil life, renders him better fitted to live, better fit..
ted to die, and which, were it generally received, would be the support
and safeguard of society I Cite to us, among all human absurdities,
a single one which produces such effects. If that "foolishness" we
preach produces effects like these, is it not natural to conclude that
it is truth itself? And if these things have not entered the heart of
man, it is not because they are absurd, but because they are Divine.
Make, my readers, but a single reflection. You are obliged to
confess that none of the religions which man may invent can satisfy




THE MYSTERIES OF CHRISTIANITY.                 IV
his wants, or save his soul. Thereupon you have a choice to make.
You will either reject them all as insufficient and false, and seek for
nothing better, since man can not invent better, and trin you will
abandon to chance, to caprice of temperament or of opinion, your
moral life and future destiny; or you will adopt that other religion
which some treat as folly, and it will render you holy and pure,
blameless in the midst of a perverse generation, united to God by
love, and to your brethren by charity, indefatigable in doing good,
happy in life, happy in death. Suppose, after all this, you shall be
told that this religion is false; but, meanwhile, it has restored in you
the image of God, re-established your primitive connections with
that great Being, and put you in a condition to enjoy life and the
happiness of heaven. By means of it you have become such that
at the last day, it is impossible that God should not receive you as
His children and make you partakers of His glory. You are made
fit for paradise, nay, paradise has commenced for you even here, because you love. This religion has done for you what all religion
proposes, and what no other has realized. Nevertheless, by the sup.
position, it is false I And what more could it do, were it true?
Rather do you not see that this is a splendid proof of its truth? Do
you not see that it is impossible that a religion which leads to God
should not come from God, and that the absurdity is precisely that
of supposing that you can be regenerated by a falsehood?
Suppose that afterward, as at the first, you do not comprehend.
It seems necessary, then, you should be saved by the things you do
not comprehend. Is that a misfortune? Are you the less saved?
Does it become you to demand from God an explanation of an obscurity which does not injure you, when, with reference to every
thing essential, He has been prodigal of light? The first disciples
of Jesus, men without culture and learning, received truths which
they did not comprehend, and spread them through the world. A
crowd of sages and men of genius have received, from the hands of
these poor people, truths which they comprehended no more than
they. The ignorance of the one, and the science of the other, have
been equallj docile. Do, then, as the ignorant and the wise have
done. Embrace with a Tection those truths which have never entered
into your heart, and which will save you. Do not lose, in vain discussions, the time which is gliding away, and which is bearing you
into the cheering or appalling light of eternity. Hasten to be saved.
Love now; one day you will know. May the Lord Jesus prepare
you for that period of light, of repose, and of happiness I








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to't t
CL4
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THE SCOTTISH PULPIT.
THA history of the Scottish pulpit naturally divides itself into three
periods: first, that between the Reformation and the Revolution in
1689; second, that between the Revolution and the ecclesiastical Disruption in 1843; and third, the modern period, or that from the Disruption to the present time.
Previous to the time of the Reformation, the pulpit in Scotland, like
thiat of other countries in Europe, was prostrate. The preacher had
been supplanted by the priest, and the pulpit demolished to make way
for the altar. Teachers of the true faith, probably as early as the iast
of the second century, had there instructed the people. The Culdees.
or refugee-servants-of-God, as their name seems to imply, had early fled
from persecution, and certainly, as soon as the sixth century, had made
the island of Iona their home, and the seat of their Christian influence.
Here they prosecuted their ministry, first among the warlike Scots and
Picts, and then among the pagan Saxons, with no little success. But
they soon began to melt away before the encroachments of the Roman
pontiff, to whom they yielded up their spiritual liberty in 1176, and, a
century later, were finally suppressed.
Thenceforward the reign of popery was complete. Scotland was a
rich inheritance of the see of Rome. Half the kingdom belonged to
the clergy. From the power of the priesthood it is easy to estimate the
power of the pulpit. It was imbecile for good. Gorged with wealth,
reveling in luxury and sensual indulgence, what cared the clergy for
things spiritual? Had they possessed the disposition to reform the
people, they had lacked the power, from ignorance. Even the bishops
knew little of the Scriptures. " I thank God," said the Bisho p of Dunkeld, "that I have lived well these many years, and never knew either
the Old or the New Testament." The chief care of the ministry was to
preserve unbroken the spell of darkness that bound the whole nation.
And they had long been successful. An act of the Scottish Parliament
in 1525, prohibiting the importation of Luther's writings, alleged that
that country had always " bene clene of all sic filth and vice!"
But that is a long night which knows no dawn. The very act referred to is suggestive. It proved the uprising of a better day. The
doctrines of the Culdees furnished points of connection for those of the




196              THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.
Reformation. The disciples of Wickliffe and Huss make their appealt
ance. Patrick Hamilton steps forward; and, later still, George Wishart,
and others of kindred spirit. In vain the demon of persecution rears
his bloody head. The brazen ball with which the mouth of Paul Craw
is stopped, that he preach not while burning at the stake, does not
silence the voice which speaks when one is dead. The flames that blare
around the body of the brilliant young Hamilton are but the emblem
atic response of his dying interrogation-" How long, O Lord, shall
darkness cover this realm?" The sounding trumpet that gives signal to
kindle the pile in the midst of which stands the mild, the gentle, the
patient, the eloquent Wishart, is but the symbol of the trumpet voice
of the prophetic angel, whose everlasting Gospel is about to be proclaimed
throughout the whole kingdom.
The lion-souled Knox rises up, full armed and equipped, as from the
dust of his martyred brethren. His words of thunder send consternation among the king's enemies. The God of Israel is by his side. He
raises up helpers, and makes strong their arms. Great is their success.
Images, altars, relics, shrines are broken in pieces, and, in some cases,
religious houses, in order that, to use their own energetic terms, "by
pulling down the nests, the rooks might all fly away."  Never was a
work more thorough and complete. Scarcely a vestige of the " auld
scarlet mither?' is left to flaunt in the air. High and low, rich and poor,
come under the strange influence. The dust is brushed from off the
long-neglected Bible; the schools are opened; forgotten tongues give
forth divine and human learning; and princes and cities are seen
" trooping apace to the new-erected banner of salvation."
In 1560, notwithstanding the work of reform had encountered the
fiercest opposition from the papists, the Scottish Parliament formally
abrogated and annulled the papal jurisdiction; and in 1592, by an Act
of' Parliament, the Protestant religion-embodied according to the
Articles of John Knox-was established, and taken under the protection and patronage of the State.
And how was this mighty change effected? Pre-eminently, under
God, by the pulpit. Of books there -were then but few. Of modern
forms and agencies for advancing the Gospel, there were none. Preaching was almost the sole instrumentality. If, then, we were to characterize in one word the pulpit of the Scottish Reformers, we would give
to it the attribute of POWER. Not of finish; not of beauty; not of
rhetorical perfection; but of strength, solidity, power; fitly symbolized
in the real old six-sided pulpit of John Knox, still preserved in a museum
at Edinburg, made of solid oak.
But fearful storms were about to beat upon that tower of strergth,
and put to the test the basis upon which it reposed. The seventeenth
century had but just opened when efforts were made, by King James,
to enforce episcopacy upon the churches. During this century it was




THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.                    19':wice declared tV  be the established religion.  This gave rise to
struggles for its resistance, by the clergy and the people, which, for
incidents of thrilling interest and sublime importance, are almost without a parallel. Those incidents can not be here minutely narrated. The
proroguing, by the king, of the meetings of the Presbyterian Assembly;
the ejection from their pulpits and their livings of such ministers as
could not in conscience conform to the new regime, believing it to be
essentially papal, though professedly prelatic; their cruel imprisonments;
their inhuman slaughter in conflicts arising out of the assertion of their
rights; the temporary relief by the accession of Cromwell to the British
throne; the blighting of cherished expectations by the accession of
Charles the Second in 1660; his efforts to overturn the whole work of
the Reformation; the driving to the fields of godly ministers who persisted in preaching when expelled from their pulpits; the terrible enginery of persecution brought to bear in the " killing time,"' beginning
with the year 1684; the slight relief by the death of Charles; and finally
the happy termination of the series of outrages and wrongs by the
Revolution in 1688, when the fate of the House of Stuart was sealed,
and the good William and Mary came to the throne-all these events are
but a small part of the shifting scene that made up the wonderful drama
of Scottish history during the period of which we speak, and contributed
to give form to the preaching of the times. It is computed that eighteen
thousand people suffered death, or the utmost hardships, for their religion, during this period, hundreds of whom were ministers. About five
thousand were murdered in cold blood.
There is one event, however, which must not be passed without
special mention; it is the subscribing of the COVENANT, at Edinburg,
in the year 1638. It has been remarked with truth, that never, except
among God's peculiar people, the Jews, did any national transaction
equal, in moral and religious sublimity, that which was displayed by
Scotland on the great day of her national Covenant.
The event is thus described by Mr. Aiton, in his life of Henderson,
"The Presbyterians had crowded to Edinburg to the number of sixty
thousand, and on the 28th of February a fast had been appointed in the
Grey Friars' Church. Long before the appointed hour, the venerable
church and the large open space around it were filled with Presbyterians from every quarter of Scotland. At two o'clock Rothes, London,
Henderson, Dickson, and Johnston arrived with a copy of the Covenant ready for signature. Henderson constituted the meeting by prayer'verrie powerfullie and pertinentlie' to the purpose on hand. The
Covenant was read by Johnston,'out of a fair parchment about an
elne squair.' When the reading was finished, there was a pause, and
silence still as death. Rothes broke it by requesting that if any of them
had objections to offer he would now be heard.' Few come, and these
few proposed but few doubts, which were soon resolved,' The vener




198               THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.
able Earl of Sutherland stepped forward, and put the first name to the
memorable document. After it had gone the round of the whole
church, it was taken out to be signed by the crowd in the church-yard.
Here it was spread before them like another roll of the prophets, upon
a flat gravestone,* to be read and subscribed by as many as could get
near it. Many in addition to their name wrote'till death,' and some
even opened a vein and subscribed with their blood. The immense
sheet, in a short time became so much crowded with names on both
sides, and throughout its whole space, that there was not room left for a
single additional signature. Zeal in the cause of Christ, and courage
for the liberties of Scotland, warmed every breast. Joy was mingled
with the expressions of some, and the voice of shouting arose from a
few. But by far the greater number were deeply impressed with very
different feelings. Most of them of all sorts wept bitterly for their defection from the Lord. And in testimony of his sincerity, every one
confirmed his subscription by a solemn oath. With groans, and tears
streaming down their faces, they all lifted up their right hands at once.
When this awful appeal was made to the Searcher of hearts at the day
of judgment, so great was the fear of again breaking the Covenant, that
thousands of arms which had never trembled, even when drawing the
sword on the eve of battle, were now loosened at every joint. After
the oath had been administered, the people were powerfully enjoined to
begin their personal reformation. At the conclusion, every body seemed
to feel that a great measure of the Divine presence had accompanied
the solemnities of the day, and with their hearts much comforted and
strengthened for every duty, the enormous crowd retired about nine at
night."
Copies of this Covenant were immediately sent to all parts of the
kingdom, and before the end of April, there were few parishes of Scot.
land where it had not been signed by nearly all of competent age and
character; thus making it truly a national Covenant.
As already intimated, the events of the period under review did
much to give tone and character to the Scottish pulpit. The introduction of prelacy brought with it no slight modification of doctrine; so
that instead of bearing the type of the creed of the great Reformer,
public instruction now took the form, to a great extent, of Arminius.
Especially the younger portion of the Scottish prelates emulated Laud
in promulgating these sentiments, and denouncing the stiff tenets of the
Presbyterians. And their discourses were generally the driest and
most pedantic productions imaginable. The papal leaven had, also,
been widely diffused; and what was still more deplorable, if possible,
the lives of many of the prelatic ministers became corrupt, and their
gross immoralities were a scandal to the sacred profession. Never.
theless, in some parts of the kingdom, and especially at particular inter.
* The identical grave-stone is still shown in Grey Friars' Church, Edinburg.- -4.




THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.                     190
vals, a pure Gospel was preached, and piety flourished. For the con.
cealed papacy, notwithstanding it came with royal authority and power,
was, as we have seen, stoutly resisted. The act of Jenny Geddes, in
hurling at the head of the surpliced dean in St. Giles, the stool on
which she had been sitting near by, when he began to read the Liturgy,
with the exclamation, "Villain! dost thou say mass at my lug?" was
indicative of the stuff of which the bone and sinew of the Scottish peo.
ple were made.
Indeed the very persecutions to which the Presbyterians were subjected, wrought into their preaching some of the very best elements.
They conspired to render them holy men, and enkindle their zeal for
God and the truth. Add to this that they often preached with the expectation of a sudden surprise by their enemies, or of a legal arrest, and
perhaps a summary conviction and death, and we can readily imagine
the character of their preaching. Earnestness and tender concern for
their flocks were the prevailing features. They were times that tried
men's souls. The preachers spoke with bold and fervid eloquence, as
standing upon the confines of the other world, and perhaps for the last
time addressing their fellow-mortals, whose blood, with their's, might
soon mingle on the trodden heath. Theplaces, too, often inspired the sublimest sentiments. Driven out from their sanctuaries, the broad fields,
arched by the canopy of heaven, were the temples of their devotions.
There, in sight of upland moors, and frowning crags, and majestic mountains, and the clear or threatening skies, these servants of the Most
High declared His messages, as in His very sight.
We are not called upon to endorse every tenet and every act of
the famous old Covenanters. They particularly erred in confounding
things civil and things sacred. But they were men of conscience, men
of prayer, men of deep piety, men of courage and an unfaltering faith;
and fearlessly, earnestly, affectionately, faithfully did they preach the
word. All honor to the self-sacrificing spirit, the zeal, the valor, the
spiritual championship of men who could say with Henderson, " We
can die, but we can not forswear ourselves, and be false traitors to
Christ!"
The way in which the Covenanters conducted their worship, when it
was unmolested in their sanctuaries, must be sketched, especially as it
obtained from the time of the Reformation, and, with some slight modification, has continued in the Scottish Presbyterian churches. Immediately on entering the pulpit, the minister kneeled down and began with
prayer, the people generally kneeling also. It was customary, at some
part of the service, to repeat the Lord's Prayer and the Doxology; but
in other respects the worship was unfettered by forms, the officiating
minister guiding the devotions of his flock, as Justin Martyr describes
those of the primitive Christians, " according to his ability, without a
prompter." Prayer being ended, the congregation joined in singing a




200               THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.
portion of the Psalms-a part of the service in wh ch they took great
delight, and in which they were so well instructed that many of them
could sing without the aid of a Psalm-book. The Psalm being sung,
the minister offered up another short prayer, and then followed the sermon, which, having been succeeded by prayer and praise, the congregation were dismissed with the Apostolic blessing.*
We come, now, to the second period of the history of the Scottish pul)it; namely, that which falls between the Revolution in 1688 and the
great disruption in 1843. Persecution had been brought to an end by the
accession of William and Mary. The Act of Security, in 1707, effectually
precluded direct interference on the part of the British Parliament with
the Scottish Churches. But though delivered from outward molestation,
the churches were destined to be subjected to an ordeal still more severe,
Their appointed leaders were not adequate to the trial. The pulpit was
sorely damaged. For the next century it displays more of learning and
culture, but less of soundness and unanimity, in its instructions. It was
the age of defections and internal dissensions. Faithful and earnest
preachers there were; and the number of such was greatly augmented
by the glorious revivals with which the churches were blessed, about
the middle and at the conclusion of the eighteenth century. But it
would seem these refreshings were vouchsafed that, by sipping of the
brook by the way, the faithful might not become quite faint-hearted and
exhausted; just as God has always been wont to, revive anew the sacred
life among His people before a season of searching trial. These and a
few other bright spots in the history of the times, do but the more clearly
reveal the dark background upon which they appear. The high-souled,
martyr spirit of the previous centuries rapidly declined. The preaching,
as a whole, lacked the strength and vigor of former days. Still more
did it lack the clear and forcible enunciation of those sublime doctrines
which were hurled, with such effect, by the Reformers and Covenanters
against the hoary battlements of supersition and iniquity.
The causes which led to this decline in the power of the Scottish pulpit
have been, in part, already intimated. The grand germinal source was
the union of the Church with the State; the injurious results of which
early began to be developed. To mention nothing else, this unnatural alliance superinduced, and finally grafted upon, the clerical office, attention
to worldly pursuits. The minister in each parish came to be the organ of
communication between his people and the government —and the conse.
quent exactions and services of a secular nature impinged upon the study,
and withdrewthe pastor from prayer and the ministry of the word.t More.
over the soft and effeminate style of preaching, so common, at the time,
in England, began to be adopted by the Scottish divines; an influence
greatly extended by the large number of those who, either openly, or at
* M'Crie's History of the Church of Scotland, p. 248.
t See Chalmers' Sermon on The Christian Ministry Secularized.




THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.                       201
heart, favored the views of the English Church. The unhappy ecclesias
tical controversies of the time affected injuriously the pulpit. The celebrated "Marrow Controversy" arose upon the republication of Edward
Fisher's book, by James Hog, minister of Carnock, in 1714, under the
title of " larrow of Modern Divinity;" the main point of dispute being
as to whether the views inculcated were a fair exposition of the doctrines
of grace, or whether, on the other hand, they tended to relax the obligations to holiness, and cherish a spirit of Antinomianism. Controversies
arose, and at length divisions, as to the lawfulness or unlawfulness of the
Burgher's oath, when taken by a Dissenter. Other troubles originated
in attempts to discipline a class of Dissenters, known as Society-men, or
Cameronians, who joined issue with the Church, mainly from its connection with the State; and others still about the matter of patronage. The
preaching of Arminian and Pelagian doctrines by some of the ministers
became also a ground of division, as to sentiment and legitimate action.
Differences of opinion, having their origin in other sources, need not be
instanced. It can not be questioned that these unfortunate controversies, though often conducted in a Christian spirit, greatly weakened the
power of the pulpit. It became too often, like the platform of the As
semblies, the arena of debate; which diverted its influence, and relaxed
its energies for good.
The prevalence of "Moderatism" also contributed directly and
powerfully to the decline of pulpit power. This system had its origin
in the combination which early took place, between the indulged ministers and the prelatic incumbents, who were introduced into the Church by
the " Comprehension Scheme" of King William. The perfidious act of
1714, reimposing patronage, gave it growth and strength. This system
early showed itself favorable to laxity of discipline and doctrine. Heresy
excited from it little attention; the doctrines of grace, as held after the
pattern of the Reformers, were condemned; and, at length, it boldly declared its principles to be worldly, and sought even to abolish the subscription to the Confession of Faith; besides opposing the extension of
the Gospel at home, and prohibiting efforts to send it abroad. This systern, at times, was wholly in the ascendency, and most dreary was its
reign. Vital godliness declined; the remonstrances of faithful ministers
were repressed, and themselves were, almost of necessity, driven out of
the Church, while those who were heterodox and immoral were protected.* As a consequence, the pulpit became almost powerless. The
preaching was legal and spiritless. Sermons became little else than care.
fully writter essays, in exposition and support of an improved system of
morality, styled the religion of the Gospel.
Such was the state of things, generally, at the close of the eighteenth
century. The brilliant exceptions in the persons of such men as Erskine,
Hunter, Davidson, Balfour, Freebairn, Johnstone, Nisbet and a few
* See Hetherington's History of the Church of Scotland, vol. ii. pp. 362-3.




2)2               THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT
others, were but "' the scattered stars that faintly break the gloom of a
chill and misty night." In 1798, the eccentric, but earnest and godly
Rowland Hill, visited Scotland, and upon his return published an
extended statement, perhaps exaggerated, if not erroneous in some few
particulars, concerning the state of religion and the kind of preaching in
Scotland. In this statement he says, "The dispensation of mercy to
fallen man by Jesus Christ is not the subject preached by the majority;
but with some, a mangled Gospel, law and Gospel spliced together;
with others, a mere hungry system of bare-weight morality; and with
a third, what is still worse, a deliberate attack on all the truths they
have engaged to uphold." " The cause of morality declines with the
cause of the Gospel; and I fear the Scots, by far the best educated and
best behaved people in the British dominions, will soon be no better than
their neighbors."
About the opening of the nineteenth century there was a decided
decline of " Moderatism," which, with the great religious awakenings
under Whitefield and others, that had occurred, contributed much to
the elevation and strength of the pulpit. The earnest efforts of Andrew
Thompson and Thomas Chalmers, and a few others, with the missionary
movements of Dr. Duff, and the publication, by Dr. M'Crie, of the " Life
of John Knox," and finally the revivals of the churches in the years of
1839 and 1840, exerted a decided influence in the same direction.
One event, however, was yet necessary to the highest power of the
Scottish pulpit. It is that which opens the third great era in its history.
WVe refer, of course, to the disruption in the national body, and the
formation of the "Free Church of Scotland."  Occasional secessions,
from a variety of causes, had already taken place. Indeed the reestablishment of the Presbyterian form of Church government in 1690,
in several of its features, was condemned by some of the leading spirits
of the day.* But it was not until about the year 1830 that the lawfulness of a civil establishment of religion, in the form of a national Church,
assumed the grave aspect of public controversy. From that time the
advocates of the voluntary principle greatly increased in number and influence. Matters were fast approaching a crisis. The civil and the ec~
clesiastical courts were perpetually coming into collision. The struggles
on the par' If the Church to maintain her dignity and spirituality, and
the slapremacy of her glorious Head, were believed by many to be per.
fectly futile and hopeless. They must come out from the civil organiza.
tions and be wholly separate.
Preparations for the coming disruption had already been made. The
time for action had now come. It was a lovely May-day (the 18th) of
that bright year in the history of the Scottish churches and the Scottish
pulpit.
The members of the General Assembly, and an anxious throng of
* Set M'Kerrow's History of the Secession Church, p. 2, etc.




THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.                     203
spectators, with the officials of royalty and rank, had crowded the
Church of St. Andrew's, in Edinburg, when the moderator, after opening
the meeting with solemn prayer, broke the dead silence that ensued, by de.
claring that owing to certain proceedings by her majesty's government,
the ecclesiastical court could not be constituted, without a violation of the
terms of union between the Church and State; and solemnly protested
against proceeding further. Then reading a paper containing a formal
statement of the reasons for complaint and secession, and laying it upon
the table before the clerk, with a bow to the throne where sat the commissioner, he withdrew, closely followed by the noble band, who slowly
and calmly retired to the spacious Tanfield Hall, the appointed place of
meeting, leaving the opposite party in the confusion of amazement and
utter dismay. Dr. Chalmers was called to the chair by acclamation, a
Psalm was sung, a prayer was offered, and the First General Assembly of
the Free Church of Scotland, was formally organized.* The number of
signatures of adhering ministers and elders, which were taken on that
day, was three hundred and eighty-six; additional names, subsequently
taken, raised it to four hundred and seventy-four.
It is scarcely possible to conceive of any movement that should have
more directly and powerfully operated upon the Scottish pulpit, than that
now described. Not only the Free Church clergy, but those from whom
they withdrew, and those of every branch of the Christian community,
felt the impulse of a new life, and gave themselves with more earnestness, and greater success, to the upbuilding of the kingdom of Christ.
The present ministerial force of Scotland (exclusive, of course, of the
one hundred and twenty-five Roman Catholic clergy) is made up of not
far from two thousand eight hundred preachers. Without claiming en.
tire accuracy, the following statement will afford an idea of their relative
numbers, denominationally considered: There are about eleven hundred in the established or National Church; seven hundred and fifty in
the Free Church; five hundred in the United or Associate Presbyterian
Church (made up of different secession bodies); one hundred and thirty
in the Episcopal; one hundred in the Baptist; about the same number in
the Congregational, and thirty in the Methodist Churches, besides, say
fifty or one hundred in other smaller bodies. Episcopacy has never
flourished in Scotland. Indeed the same may be said of each of the
several denominations, except the Presbyterian. The doctrine of the
Scottish pulpit is, therefore, mainly Calvinistic, as it is usually called.
On this point there is a singular unanimity. The greatest efficiency does
not seem to lie in the direction of numbers and state patronage. The
establishment was shorn of its strength, to a great extent, at the disrup.
tion; and being obliged to fill its pulpits as best it could, it has not, since
that event, possessed the power of other days. In intellectual character
* A minute and graphic account of this great movement may be found in the lIu
voltme of Hetherington's History of the Church of Scotlai id.




204                THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.
and standing, the Free Church ministers evidently excel those of any
other body. Perhaps, as a class, they are not inferior in sterling ability,
to those of any other denomination in the world.
In oratory, or pulpit embellishments of any kind, the Scottish clergy
certainly do not excel. Judging by their transatlantic productions,
there is little or no effort at fine writing; and, if what appear to be reliable
authorities are credited, there is even less attention to pulpit elocution.
In this respect they fall behind their English neighbors. It is a frequent remark in the mother-country, " If one wants to know what to say,
he must go to Scotland; if he desires to know how to say it, he must go
to England." To use the words of one of her own sons, " There is not
a nation in Europe where public men are better thinkers and worse
speakers than the Scottish nation. This little peninsula has produced
more authors that are read and studied, more text-books that are introduced into foreign colleges and foreign libraries, and more great men in
proportion to its territorial extent, and the number of its population, than
any other country. Yet Scotland, though a land of poets, and metaphysicians, and historians, and theologians, and martyrs, is not a land of
orators. Though the national education has elevated the Scottish mind,
though the established religion of the country has infused a thorough
moral element into the Scottish character, so that some of the best British statesmen, not to speak of the ministers at foreign courts, are Scottish,
still Scotland has not furnished the bench, the bar, nor the pulpit, withfirst
rate orators. This is one of the first things that strikes a foreigner on entering Scotland. There is an entire want of all the graces, with an ample
supply of all the gifts of pulpit oratory. As a general thing the preachers of this country are more taken up with the what than with the how.
There is a masculine power about the Scottish pulpit peculiar to itself.
In most of their churches the thought is heavy and massive. The truth
is sought after with great avidity, and wrapped up in every discourse, if
not with tinseled ornament, certainly with golden sinew. It seems some.
-what surprising, but so it is, that John Knox has left the impress of his
noble nature, both external and internal, on the Scottish character. The
pulpit of that country is destined to echo with the rude tones of the great
Reformer's voice, and the people to see the uncouth, but vigorous gestures of the man, where, animated and warmed up to the welding-point,
he produced and stereotyped every succeeding generation of Scottish
preachers."*
The method of sermonizing in the Scottish pulpit is quite different
from that of former days. The old method was at once expository, doce
trinal, methodical, and impassioned, He who reads the sermons of Bos.
ton and the Erskines, for example, will find the several formal divisions,
then numerous sub-divisions, and then almost any number of uses, infer.
ences, and practical reflections; and even then several sermons on the
* Rev R, Irvine, now of Hamilton, Canada West.




THE SCOTTISH  PULPIT.                    20O
same text. He will also find sound argument, and, particularly in sacroa
mental sermons, much of unction and pathos, and impassioned appeal.
Widely different is the present method. The expository form, which,
for three centuries has done so much to indoctrinate and mold the Scottish nation, is still maintained to a great extent; but the modern dis.
courses are not generally distributed into heads, and formally announced
at the beginning. Oftentimes no divisions are marked in the whole sermon, and little or no strength is bestowed in the application-an obvious
fault in most of the Scottish sermons with which we have met. Of late,
the "blood earnestness" of Chalmers, as Dr. John M. Mason styled
it, upon hearing him, has contributed to infuse more of that warmth and
passion into the instruction of the pulpit which it formerly possessed.
We close this sketch with the remark that if one seeks for proof of
the power of the pulpit, let him examine the history of the land of John
Knox. Nowhere else has the relation of the pulpit to the existing form
of civilization been so manifest. Nowhere else have the collected energies of the kingdom of Christ been so powerfully brought to bear, by
means of the pulpit, to resist the onset of error, and to fuse and mold the
masses of society. The ruling element of civilization, from the beginning
of the Reformation to the present time, (with some temporary interruptions), has been the religious element, rendered effective by preaching.
And there is reason to believe that the future of the Scottish pulpit will
not be unworthy of the past. Coming events may again test its strength.
The present aggressions of the Roman pontiff in England, may, by possibility, compass the reacquisition of that bright jewel, which the hand
of the fearless Knox plucked from his tiara. If so, it may appear, in
the eloquent language of another, why God, through these troubled
centuries, has been schooling a hardy, manly race among the hills and
floods of Scotland: and, as the spirit of Bannockburn and Drumclog
flames out into a loftier blaze of heroism than that which appalled the
usurping Edward, or the bloody Claverhouse, the blue banner of the
Crown and the Covenant will be seen floating over the hottest and dead.
liest field of that terrible conflict.




11SCOURSE  FIFTYSIXTlH,
JOHN KNOX.
THE great Reformer was born in Haddington, not far from Edinburg,
of poor but honest parents, in the year 1505. Destined for the Church,
he received a thorough collegiate education, and became an honest friar;
but silently and unostentatiously he early adopted the principles of the
Protestant Reformation. After this he spent a considerable time in
teaching and pursuing his studies, when he was called, unexpectedly, to
the preaching of the Word at St. Andrews. Here he began boldly to
attack " papal idolatry," upon which he was seized by the authorities and
sent a prisoner to France, in 1547, where he worked in the galleys as a
slave. After two years he was set at liberty, and refusing a bishopric in
England, retired to the Continent at the accession of Mary, residing
chiefly at Geneva and Frankfort, but returned to Scotland in 1555, where
he labored with indomitable perseverance and great success. A second
time he went to Geneva, where he published his "First Blast of the
Trumpet against the Regiment (government) of Women," directed principally against Mary of England, and Mary of Guise regent of Scotland,
two miserable despots. He returned to Scotland in 1559, and, after seeing Protestantism triumph in his beloved country, died, 1572, poor in
this world's goods, but rich in the hope of a blessed immortality.
As a preacher, Knox possessed most astonishing abilities. With the
irresistible power of truth and of heaven, he took possession of the under.
standing, and captivated the affections. Undismayed by opposition, and
unbribed by proffered favors, he overlooked all distinctions between
high and low, and alike to the sovereign on the throne, and the poorest menial, preached repentance, and the need of a new heart. The multitude, not only, but the educated few were animated and influenced, if
not convinced and convicted, by his rough but overwhelming eloquence.
There are numerous treatises, admonitions, exhortations, and letters
extant of the Reformer's writings; but only one sermon, put forth by
himnself (that which is here given), though there are two besides which
were issued after his death. Knox speaks of this in the preface, as the
first thing of the kind he ever set forth. It was preached in the public
audience of the church in Edinburg, the 19th of August, 1565. lie was




THE SOURCE AND  BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 207
arrested for preaching it, called before the council, and finally forbidden
to preach in Edinburg so long as the king and queen were in town. For
this reason he wrote out the sermon after having preached it, to the end,
as he says, that the enemies of God's truth might either note unto him
wherein he had offended, or at least cease to condemn him, before con.
vincing him by God's Word. It would be impossible for most readers
to understand the preacher if left in the atrocious spelling and uncouth
Scotch dialect of his time. The translation here adopted is that of the
London Religious Tract Society. It will be seen that he " who never
feared the face of man" could preach with somewhat of elegance as well
as such prodigious power. The title is our own.
THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER.
" O Lord our God, other lords besides Thee have had dominion over us; but by Thee
only will we make mention of Thy name. They are dead, they shall not live; they are
deceased, they shall not rise: therefore hast Thou visited and destroyed them, and made
all their memory to perish. Thou hast increased the nation, 0 Lord, Thou hast increased
the nation, Thou art glorified; Thou hast removed it far unto the ends of the earth.
Lord, in trouble have they visited Thee, they poured out a prayer when Thy chastening
was upon them," etc. —IsAIAH, xxvi. 13-16, etc.
As the skillful mariner (being master), having his ship tossed
with a vehement tempest, and contrary winds, is compelled oft to
traverse, lest that, either by too much resisting to the violence of
the waves, his vessel might be overwhelmed; or by too much liberty granted, might be carried whither the fury of the tempes
would, so that his ship should be driven upon the shore, and make
shipwreck; even so doth our prophet Isaiah in this text, which now
you have heard read. For he, foreseeing the great desolation that
was decreed in the council of the Eternal, against Jerusalem and
Judah, namely, that the whole people that bare the name of God
should be dispersed; that the holy city should be destroyed; the
temple wherein was the ark of the covenant, and where God had
promised to give His own presence, should be burned with fire; and
the king taken, his sons in his own presence murdered, his own eyes
Immediately after be put out; the nobility, some cruelly murdered,
some shamefully led away captives; and finally the whole seed of
Abraham rased, as it were, from the face of the earth-the
prophet, I say, fearing these horrible calamities, doth, as it were,
sometimes suffer himself, and the people committed to his charge,




208                    JOHN KNOX
to be carried away with the violence of the tempest, without further
resistance than by pouring forth his and their dolorous complaints
before the majesty of God, as in the thirteenth, seventeenth, and
eighteenth verses of this present text we may read. At other times
he valiantly resists the desperate tempest, and pronounces the fearful destruction of all such as trouble the Church of God; which he
pronounces that God will multiply, even when it appears utterly to
be exterminated. But because there is no final rest to the whole
body till the Head return to judgment, He exhorts the afflicted to
patience, and promises a visitation whereby the wickedness of the
wicked shall be disclosed, and finally recompensed in their own
bosoms.
These are the chief points of which, by the grace of God, we
intend more largely at this present to speak:
First, The prophet saith, "O Lord our God, other lords besides
Thee have ruled us."
This, no doubt, is the beginning of the dolorous complaint, in
which he complains of the unjust tyranny that the poor afflicted
Israelites sustained during the time of their captivity. True it is
that the prophet was gathered to his fathers in peace, before this
came uFon the people: for a hundred years after his decease the
people were not led away captive; yet he, foreseeing the assurance
of the calamity, did 1eforehand indite and dictate unto them the
complaint, which afterward they should make. But at the first
sight it appears that the complaint has but small weight; for what
new thing was it that other lords than God in His own person ruled
them, seeing that such had been their government from the beginning? For who kr:ows not that Moses, Aaron, and Joshua, the
judges, Samuel, David, and )ther godly rulers, were men, and not
God; and so other lords than God ruled them in their greatest prosperity?
For the better understanding of this complaint, and of the mind
of the prophet, we must, first, observe from whence all authority
flows; and secondly, to what end powers are appointed by God:
whi(h two points be'ng discussed, we shall better understand what
lords and what authority rule beside God, and who they are in whom
God and His merciful presence rules.
The first is resolved to us by the words of the Apostle, saying,
" There is no power but of God."  David brings in the eternal God
speaki. ig o judges and rulers, saying, "I have said, ye are gods,
and sons of tic: Most High." And Solomon, in the person of God,
fa'r.   t;k 8": Jarme, saying, " By Me kings reign, and princes discern




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER, 209
the things that are just." From which place it is evident *that it is
neither birth, influence of stars, election of people, force of arms,
nor, finally, whatsoever can be comprehended under the power of
nature, that makes the distinction betwixt the superior power and
the inferior, or that establishes the royal throne of kings; but it is
the only and perfect ordinance of God, who willeth His terror,
power, and majesty, partly to shine in the thrones of kings, and in
the faces of judges, and that for the profit and comfort of man. So
that whosoever would study to deface the order of government that
God has established, and allowed by His holy word, and bring in
such a confusion that no difference should be betwixt the upper
powers and the subjects, does nothing but avert and turn upside
down the very throne of God, which He wills to be fixed here upon
earth; as in the end and cause of this ordinance more plainly shall
appear: which is the second point we have to observe, for the better
understanding of the prophet's words and mind.
The end and cause then, why God imprints in the weak and
feeble flesh of man this image of His own power and majesty, is not,
to puff up flesh in opinion of itself; neither yet that the heart of
him that is exalted above others should be lifted up by presumption and pride, and so despise others; but that he should consider
he is appointed lieutenant to One, whose eyes continually watch
upon him, to see and examine how he behaves himself in his office.
St. Paul, in few words, declares the end wherefore the sword is committed to the powers, saying, " It is to the punishment of the wicked
doers, and unto the praise of such as do well."
Of which words it is evident that the sword of God is not committed to the hand of man to use as it pleases him, but only to punish vice and maintain virtue, that men may live in such society as
is acceptable before God. And this is the true and only cause why
God has appointed powers in this earth.
For such is the furious rage of man's corrupt nature that, unless
severe punishment were appointed and put in execution upon malefactors, better it were that man should live among brutes and wild
beasts than among men. But at this present I dare not enter into
the descriptions of this common-place; for so should I not satisfy
the text, which by God's grace I purpose to explain. This only by
the way-I would that such as are placed in authority should consider whether they reign and rule by God, so that God rules them;
or if they rule without, besides, and against God, of whom our
prophet here complains
If any desire to take trial of this point, it is Lot hard; for Moses
14




210                   JOHN KNOX.
in the election of judges, and of a king, describes not only what
persons shall be chosen to that honor, but also gives to him that is
elected and chosen the rule by which he shall try himself, whether
God reign in him or not, saying, "When he shall sit upon the
throne of his kingdom, he shall write to himself an exemplar of
this law, in a book by the priests and Levites; it shall be with him,
and he shall read therein, all the days of his life: that he may learn
to fear the Lord his God, and to keep all the words of His law, and
these statutes, that he may do them; that his heart be not lifted up
above his brethren, and that he turn not from the commandment, to
the right hand, or to the left."
The same is repeated to Joshua, in his inauguration to the government of the people, by God Himself, saying, "Let not the book
of this law depart from thy mouth, but meditate in it day and night,
that thou mayest keep it, and do according to all that which is written in it. For then shall thy way be prosperous, and thou shall do
prudently."
The first thing then that God requires of him who is called to the
honor of a king, is, The knowledge of His will revealed in His
word.
The second is, An upright and willing mind, to put in execution
such things as God commands in His law, without declining to the
right, or to the left hand.
Kings, then, have not an absolute power to do in their government what pleases them, but their power is limited by God's word;
so that if they strike where God has not commanded, they are but
murderers; and if they spare where God has commanded to strike,
they and their throne are criminal and guilty of the wickedness
which abounds upon the face of the earth, for lack of punishment.
O that kings and princes would consider what account shall be
craved of them, as well of their ignorance and misknowledge of
God's will as for the neglecting of their office I But now to return
to the words of the prophet. In the person of the whole people he
complains unto God that the Babylonians (whom he calls "other
lords besides God," both because of their ignorance of God and by
reason of their cruelty and inhumanity) had long ruled over them
in great rigor, without pity or compassion upon the ancient men and
famous matrons; for they, being mortal enemies to the people of
God, sought by all means to aggravate their yoke, yea, utterly to
exterminate the memory of them, and of their religion, from the
face of the earth    *    *    *    *
Hereof it is evident that their disobedience unto God and unto




THE  SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 211
the voices of the prophets was the source of their destruction. Now
have we to take heed how we should use the good laws of God,
that is, His will revealed unto us in His Word; and that order of
justice which, by Him, for the comfort of man, is established among
men. There is no doubt but that obedience is the most acceptable
sacrifice unto God, and that which above all things He requires; so
that when He manifests Himself by His Word, men should follow
according to their vocation and commandment. Now so it is that
God, by that great Pastor our Lord Jesus, now manifestly in His
Word calls us from all impiety, as well of body as of mind, to holiness of life, and to His spiritual service; and for this purpose He
has erected the throne of His mercy among us, the true preaching
of His word, together with the right administration of His sacraments; but what our obedience is, let every man examine his own
conscience, and consider what statutes and laws we would have to
be given unto her.
Wouldst thou, 0 Scotland I have a king to reign over thee in
justice, equity, and mercy? Subject thou thyself to the Lord thy
God, obey His commandments, and magnify thou the Word that
calleth unto thee, " This is the way, walk in it: " and if thou wilt
not, flatter not thyself; the same justice remains this day in God to
punish thee, Scotland, and thee Edinburg especially, which before
punished the land of Judah and the city of Jerusalem. Every
realm or nation, saith the prophet Jeremiah, that likewise offendeth,
shall be likewise punished, but if thou shalt see impiety placed in
the seat of justice above thee, so that in the throne of God (as Solomon complains) reigns nothing but fraud and violence, accuse thine
own ingratitude and rebellion against God; for that is the only
cause why God takes away "the strong man and the man of war,
the judge and the prophet, the prudent and the aged, the captain
and the honorable, the counselor and the cunning artificer; and I
will appoint, saith the Lord, children to be their princes, and babes:
shall rule over them. Children are extortioners of my people, and
women have rule over them."
If these calamities, I say, apprehend us, so that we see nothing
but the oppression of good men and of all godliness, and that
wicked men without God reign above us; let us accuse and condemn
ourselves, as the only cause of our own miseries. For if we had
heard the voice of the Lord our God, and given upright obedience
unto the same, God would have multiplied our peace, and would
have rewarded our obedience before the eyes of the world. But now
let us hear what the prophet saith further: "The dead shall not




212                     JOH   KENOX.
live," saith he, "neither shall the tyrants, nor the dead arise, be
cause Thou hast visited and scattered them, and destroyed all their
memory."
From this fourteenth verse unto the end of the nineteenth, it appears that the prophet observes no order; yea, that he speaks things
directly repugning* one to another; for,first, he saith, "The dead shall
not live;" afterward he affirms, "Thy dead men shall live."  Secondly
he saith, "Thou hast visited and scattered them, and destroyed all
their memory." Immediately after, he saith, " Thou hast increased
Thy nation, 0 Lord, Thou hast increased Thy nation. They have
visited Thee, and have poured forth a prayer before Thee."
Who, I say, would not think that these are things not only
spoken without good order and purpose, but also manifestly repugning one to another? For to live, and not to live, to be so destroyed
that no memorial remains, and to be so increased that the coasts of
the earth shall be replenished, seems to impart plain contradiction.
For removing of this doubt, and for better understanding the prophet's mind, we must observe, that the prophet had to do with divers
sorts of men; he had to do with the co:.ljuredt and manifest enemies
of God's people, the Chaldeans or Babylonians; even so, such as
profess Christ Jesus have to do with the Turks and Saracens. He
had to do with the seed of Abraham, whereof there were three
sorts. The ten tribes were all degenerated from the true worshiping
of God and corrupted with idolatry, as this day are our pestilent
papists in all realms and nations; there rested only the tribe of Judah at Jerusalem, where the form of true religion was observed, the
law taught, and the ordinances of God outwardly kept. But yet
there were in that body, I mean in the body of the visible Church,
a great number that were hypocrites, as this day yet are among us
that profess the Lord Jesus, and have refused papistry; also not a
few that were licentious livers; some that turned their back to God,
that is, had forsaken all true religion; and some that lived a most
abominable life, as Ezekiel saith in his vision; and yet there were
some godly, as a few wheat-corns oppressed: and hid among the
multitude of chaff: now, according to this diversity, the prophet
keeps divers purposes, and yet in most perfect order.
And first, after the first part of the complaint of the afflicted as
we have heard, in vehemency of spirit he bursts forth against all the
proud enemies of God's people, against all such as trouble them, and
against all such as mock and forsake God, and saith, "The dead
shall not live, the proud giants shall not rise; Thou hast scattered
* Opposing.     t Combined.      t Covered over, weighed down.




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY  POWER. 213
them, and destroyed their memorial." In which words he contends
against the present temptation and dolorous state of God's people,
and against the insolent pride of such as oppressed them; as if the
prophet should say, 0 ye troublers of God's people! howsoever it
appears to you in this your bloody rage, that God regards not your
cruelty, nor considers what violence you do to HIis poor afflicted, yet
shall you be visited, yea, your carcasses shall fall and lie as stinking
carrion upon the face of the earth, you shall fall without hope of
life, or of a blessed resurrection; yea, howsoever you gather your
substance and augment your families, you shall be so scattered that
you shall leave no memorial of you to the posterities to come, but
that which shall be execrable and odious.
Hereof the tyrants have their admonition, and the afflicted
Church inestimable comfort: the tyrants that oppress shall receive
the same end which they did who have passed before: that is, they
shall die and fall with shame, without hope of resurrection, as is
aforesaid. Not that they shall not arise to their own confusion and
just condemnation; but that they shall not recover power to trouble
the servants of God; neither yet shall the wicked arise, as David
saith, in the counsel of the just. Now the wicked have their counsels, their thrones, and finally handle* (for the most part) all things
that are upon the face of the earth; but the poor servants of God
are reputed unworthy of men's presence, envied and mocked; yea,
they are more vile before these proud tyrants than is the very dirt
and mire which is trodden under foot. But in that glorious resurrection this state shall be changed; for then shall such as now, by
their abominable living and cruelty, destroy the earth and molest
God's children, see Him whom they have pierced; they shall see
the glory of such as now they persecute, to their terror and everlasting confusion. The remembrance hereof ought to make us patient in the days of affliction, and so to comfort us that when we see
tyrants in their blind rage tread under foot the saints of God, we
despair not utterly, as if there were neither wisdom, justice, nor
power above in the heavens to repress such tyrants, and to redress
the dolors of the unjustly afflicted. No, brethren, let us be assured
that the right hand of the Lord will change the state of things that
are most desperate. In our God there is wisdom and power, in a
moment to change the joy and mirth of our enemies into everlasting
mourning, and;ur sorrows into joy and gladness that shall have no
end.
Therefore, ii. these apparent calamities (and marvel not that I
* Manage.




214                    JOHN  KNOX.
say apparent calamities for he that sees not a fire is begun, that shall
burn more than we look for, unless God of His mercy quench it,*
is more than blind), let us not be discouraged, but with unfeigned
repentance let us return to the Lord our God; let us accuse and
condemn our former negligence, and steadfastly depend upon his
promised deliverance; so shall our temporal sorrows be converted
into everlasting joy. The doubt that might be moved concerning
the destruction of those whom God exalteth, shall be discussed, if
time will suffer, after we have passed throughout the text. The
prophet now proceeds and saith, "' Thou hast increased the nations,
0 Lord, Thou hast increased the nations; Thou art made glorious,
Thou hast enlarged all the coasts of the earth. Lord, in trouble," etc.
In these words the prophet gives consolation to the afflicted, assuring them that how horrible soever the desolation should be, yet
should the seed of Abraham be so multiplied, that it should replenish
the coasts of the earth; yea, that God should be more glorified in
their affliction than He was during the time of their prosperity.
This promise, no doubt, was incredible when it was made; for who
could have been persuaded that the destruction of Jerusalem should
have been the means whereby the nation of the Jews should have
been increased? seeing that much rather it appeared, that the overthrow of Jerusalem should have been the very abolishing of the
seed of Abraham: but we must consider, to what end it was that
God revealed Himself to Abraham, and what is contained in the
promise of the multiplication of his seed, and the benediction promised thereto.
[Instances are here adduced in which God has "notified Hit
name" in the history of the Jews.]
Wherefore, dear brethren, we have no small consolation, if the
state of all things be rightly considered. We see in what fury and
rage the world, for the most part, is now raised, against the poor
Church of Jesus Christ. unto which HIe has proclaimed liberty, after
the fearful bondage of that spiritual Babylon, in which we have been
holden captives longer space than Israel was prisoner in Babylon itself: for if we shall consider, upon the one part, the multitude of
those that live wholly without Christ; and, upon the other part, the
blind rage of the pestilent papists; what shall we think of the small
number of them that profess Christ Jesus, but that they are as a poor
sheep, already seized in the claws of the lion; yea, that they, and the
true religion which they profess, shall in a moment be utterly consumed?
But against this fearful temptation, let us be armed with the
* Alluding ta the political troubles of that day.




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 215
promise of God, namelyj, that He will be the protector t if His Church;
yea, that He will multiply it, even when to man's judgment it appears utterly to be extermiLated. This promise has our God performed, in the multiplication of Abraham's seed, in the preservation
of it when Satan labored utterly to have destroyed it, and in deliverance of the same, as we have heard, from Babylon. He hath sent
His Son Christ Jesus, clad in our flesh, who hath tasted of all our
infirmities (sin excepted), who hath promised to be with us to the
end of the world; He hath further kept promise in the publication,
yea, in the restitution of His glorious Gospel. Shall we then think
that He will leave His Church destitute in this most dangerous age?
Only let us cleave to His truth, and study to conform our lives to
the same, and He shall multiply His knowledge, and increase His
people. But now let us hear what the prophet saith more:
"Lord, in trouble have they visited Thee, they poured out a
prayer when Thy chastening was upon them."
The prophet means that such as in the time of quietness did not
rightly regard God nor His judgments, were compelled, by sharp
corrections, to seek God; yea, by cries and dolorous complaints to
visit Him. True it is, that such obedience deserves small praise before men; for who can praise, or accept that in good part, which
comes as it were of mere compulsion? And yet it is rare that any
of God's children do give unfeigned obedience, until the hand of
God turn them. For if quietness and prosperity make them not utterly to forget their duty, both toward God and man, as David for a
season, yet it makes them careless, insolent, and in many things unmindful of those things that God chiefly craves of them; which imperfections being espied, and the danger that thereof might ensue,
our heavenly Father visits the sins of His children, but with the rod
of His mercy, by which they are moved to return to their God, to
accuse their former negligence, and to promise better obedience in
all times hereafter; as David confessed, saying, "Before I fell in
affliction I went astray, but now will I keep Thy statutes."
But yet, for the better understanding of the prophet's mind, we
may consider how God doth visit man, and how man doth visit God;
and what difference there is betwixt the visitation of God upon the
reprobate, and His visitation upon the chosen.
God sometimes visits the reprobate in His hot displeasure, pouring upon them His plagues for their long rebellion; as we have
heard before that He visited the proud, and destroyed their memory.
At other times God is said to visit His people, being in affliction, to
wom He sends tomfort or promise of deliverance, as He visited the




216                    JOHN KNOX.
seed of Abraham, when oppressed in Egypt.' And Zacharias said
that " God had visited His people, and sent unto them hope of deliverance," when John the Baptist was born. But of none of these
visitations our prophet here speaks, but of that only which we have
already touched; namely, when God layeth His correction upon
His own children, to call them from the venomous breasts of this
corrupt world, that they suck not in over great abundance the poison
thereof; and He doth, as it were, wean them from their mother's
breasts, that they may learn to receive other nourishment. Truie it
is, that this weaning (or speaning, as we term it) from worldly pleasure, is a thing strange to the flesh. And yet it is a thing so necessary to God's children, that, unless they are weaned from the pleas.
ures of the world, they can never feed upon that delectable milk of
God's eternal verity; for the corruption of the one either hinders the
other from being received, or else so troubles the whole powers of
man, that the soul can never so digest the truth of God as he ought
to do.
Although this appears hard, yet it is most evident; for what can
we receive from the world, but that which is in the world?  What
that is, the apostle John teaches; saying, "Whatsoever is in the
world, is either the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, or the pride
of life." Now, seeing that these are not of the Father, but of the
world, how can it be, that our sculs can feed upon chastity, temperance, and humility, so long as our stomachs are replenished with the
corruption of these vices?
Now so it is, that flesh can never willingly refuse these forenamed, but rather still delights itself in every one of them; yea, in
them all, as the examples are but too evident.
It behooves, therefore, that God Himself shall violently pull His
children from these venomous breasts, that when they lack the
liquor and poison of the world, they may visit Him, and learn to be
nourished of Him. Oh if the eyes of worldly princes should be
opened, that they might see with with what humor and liquor their
souls are fed, while their whole delight consists in pride, ambition,
~and the lusts of the corrupt flesh! We understand then how God
doth visit men, as well by His severe judgments as by His merciful
visitation of deliverance from trouble, or by bringing trouble upon
His chosen for their humiliation; and now it remains to understand
how man visits God. Man doth visit God when he appears in His
presence, be it for the hearing of His word, or for the participation
of His sacraments; as the people of Israel, besides the observation
of their sabbaths and daily oblations, were commanded thrice a year




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 217
to present themselves before the presence of the tabernacle; and as
we do, and as often as we present ourselves to the hearing of the
word. For there is the footstool, yea, there is the face and throne
of God Himself, wheresoever the Gospel of Jesus Christ is truly
preached, and His sacraments rightly ministered.
But men may on this sort visit God hypocritically; for they may
come for the fashion; they may hear with deaf ears; yea, they may
understand, and yet never determine with themselves to obey that
which God requires: and let such men be assured, that He who
searches the secrets of hearts will be avenged of all such; for nothing can be more odious to God, than to mock Him in His own
presence. Let every man therefore examine himselfi with what
mind, and what purpose, he comes to hear the word of God; yea,
with what ear he hears it, and what testimony his heart gives unto
Him, when God commands virtue, and forbids impiety.
Repinest thou when God requires obedience? Thou hearest to
thine own condemnation. Mockest thou at God's threatenings?
Thou shalt feel the weight and truth of them, albeit too late, when
flesh and blood can not deliver thee from His hand! But the
visitation, whereof our prophet speaks, is only proper to the sons
of God, who, in the time when God takes from them the pleasures of
the world, or shows His angry countenance unto them, have recourse
unto Him, and confessing their former negligence, with troubled
hearts, cry for His mercy. This visitation is not proper to all the
afflicted, but appertains only to God's children: for the reprobates
can never have access to God's mercy in time of their tribulation,
and that because they abuse His long patience, as well as the manifold benefits they receive from His hands; for as the same prophet
heretofore saith, "Let the wicked obtain mercy, yet shall he never
learn wisdom, but in the land of righteousness;" that is, where the
true knowledge of God abounds, " he will do wickedly."  Which is
a crime above all others abominable; for to what end is it that God
erects His throne among us, but that we should fear Him? Why
does He reveal His holy will unto us, but that we shbuld obey it?
Why does He deliver us from trouble, but that we should be witnesses unto the world, that He is gracious and merciful?
Now, when men, hearing their duty, and knowing what God requires of them, do malapertly fight against all equity and justice,
what, I pray you, do they else but make manifest war against God?
Yea, when they have received from God such deliverance, that they
can not deny but that God Himself hath in His great mercy visited
them, and yet they continue wicked ars before; what deserve they




218                    JOHN  KNOX.
but effectually to be given over unto a reprobate sense, that they
may headlong run to ruin, both of body and soul? It is almost incredible that a man should be so enraged against God, that neither
His plagues, nor yet His mercy showed, should move him to repent
ance; but because the Scriptures bear witness of the one and the
other, let us cease to marvel, and let us firmly believe, that such
things as have been, are even at present before our eyes, albeit many,
blinded by affection, can not see them.
[The case of Ahab is instanced as an illustration.]
" Like as a woman with child, that draweth near her travail, is in
sorrow, and crieth in her pains, so have we been in Thy sight, 0
Lord; we have conceived, we have borne in vain, as though we
should have brought forth the wind. Salvations were not made to
the earth, neither did the inhabitants of the earth fall."
This is the second part of the prophet's complaint, in which he,
in the person of God's people, complains, that of their great affliction
there appeared no end. This same similitude is used by our Master
Jesus Christ; for when He speaks of the troubles of His Church,
He compares them to the pains of a woman travailing in child-birth.
But it is to another end; for there He promises exceeding and permanent joy after a sort, though it appear trouble. But here is the
trouble long and vehement, albeit the fruit of it was not suddenly
espied. He speaks no doubt of that long and dolorous time of their
captivity, in which they continually labored for deliverance, but obtained it not before the complete end of seventy years. During
which time the earth, that is, the land of Judah, which sometimes
was sanctified unto God, but was then given to be profaned by
wicked people, got no help, nor perceived any deliverance: for the
inhabitants of the world fell not; that is, the tyrants and oppressors
of God's people were not taken away, but still remained and continued blasphemers of God, and troublers of His Church. But
because I perceive the hours to pass more swiftly than they have
seemed at other times, I must contract that which remains of this
text into certain points.
The prophet first contends against the present despair; after7ard he introduces God Himself calling upon His people; and, last
of all, he assures His afflicted that God will come, and require account of all the blood-thirsty tyrants of the earth.
First. Fighting against the present despair, he saith, "Thy dead
shall lave, even my body (or with my body) shall they arise; awake
and sing, ye that dwell in the dust; for thy dew is as the dew of
herbs."




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER  219
The prophet here pierces through all impediments that nature
could object; and, by the victory of faith, he overcomes not cnly
the common enemies, but the great and last enemy of all, death it.
self; for this would he say, Lord, I see nothing for Thy chosen, but
misery to follow misery, and one affliction to succeed another; yea,
in the end I see that death shall devour Thy dearest children. But
yet, 0 Lord! I see Thy promise to be true, and Thy love to remain
toward Thy chosen, even when death appears to have devoured
them: "For Thy dead shall live; yea, not only shall they live, but
my very dead carcase shall arise;" and so I see honor and glory to
succeed this temporal shame; I see permanent joy to come after
trouble, order to spring out of this terrible confusion; and, finally,
I see that life shall devour death, so that death shall be destroyed,
and so Thy servants shall have life. This, I say, is the victory of
faith, when to the midst of death, through the light of God's word,
the afflicted see life. Hypocrites, in the time of quietness and prosperity, can generally confess that God is true to His promises; but
bring them to the extremity, and there the hypocrite ceases further
to trust in God, than he seeth natural means, whereby God useth to
work. But the true faithful, when all hope of natural means fail,
flee to God Himself and to the truth of His promise, who is above
nature; yea, whose works are not so subject to the ordinary course
of nature, that when nature fails, His power and promise fail also
therewith. [The text is here further explained.]
This vision, I say, given to the prophet, and by the prophet
preached to the people, when they thought that God had utterly forgotten them, compelled them more diligently to advert to what,
the former prophets had spoken. It is no doubt but that they
carried with them both the prophecy of Isaiah and Jeremiah, so that
the prophet Ezekiel is a commentary to these words of Isaiah, where
he saith, " Thy dead, O Lord, shall live, with my body they shall
arise." The prophet brings in this similitude of the dew, to answer
unto that part of their fidelity, who can believe no further of God's
promises than they are able to apprehend by natural judgment; as
if he would say, Think ye this impossible that God should give life
unto you, and bring you to an estate of a commonwealth again, after
that ye are dead, and, as it were, razed from the face of the earth?
But why do you not consider what God worketh from year to year
in the order of nature? Sometimes you see the face of the earth
decked and beautified with herbs, flowers, grass, and fruits: again
you see the same utterly taken away by storms and the vehemence
of the winter: what does God to replenish the earth again, and to




220                     JOHN  KNOX.
restore the beauty thereof?  He sends down his small and soft deAr,
the drops whereof, in their descending, are neither great nor visible,
and yet thereby are the pores and secret veins of the earth, which
before, by vehemence of frost and cold were shut up, opened.
again, and so does the earth produce again the like herbs, flowers,
and fruits. Shall you then think that the dew of God's heavenly
grace will not be as effectual in you, to whom He hath made His
promise, as it is in the herbs and fruits which, from year to year bud
forth and decay?  If you do so, the prophet would say your incred
ibility* is inexcusable; because you neither rightly weigh the power
nor the promises of your God.
The like similitude the Apostle Paul uses against such as called
the resurrection in doubt, because by natural judgment they could
not apprehend that flesh once putrified, and dissolved as it were into
other substances, should rise again, and return again to the same
substance and nature: "0  fool," saith he, "that which thou sowest
is not quickened, except it die; and that which thou sowest, thou
sowest not that body that shall be, but bare corn, as it falleth, of
wheat, or some other, but God giveth it a body as it pleaseth Him,
even to every seed His own body." In which words and sentence
the Apostle sharply rebukes the gross ignorance of the Corinthians,
who began to call in doubt the chief article of our faith, the resurrection of the flesh after it was once dissolved, because that natural
judgment, as he said, reclaimed thereto.t He reproves, I say, their
gross ignorance, because they might have seen and considered some
proof and document thereof in the very order of nature; for albeit
the wheat or other corn, cast in the earth, appears to die or putrify,
and so to be lost, yet we see that it is not perished, but that it fructifies according to God's will and ordinance.
Now, if the power of God be so manifest in raising up of the fruits
of the earth, unto which no particular promise is made by God, what
shall be His power and virtue in raising up our bodies, seeing that
thereto He is bound by the solemn promise of Jesus Christ, His
Eternal Wisdom, and the Verity itself that can not lie? Yea, seeing
that the members must once communicate with the glory of the
Head, how shall our bodies, which are flesh of His flesh, and bone
of His bones, lie still forever in corruption, seeing that our Hetad,
Jesius Christ, is now exalted in His glory? Neither yet is this power
and good-will of God to be restrained unto the last and general
resurrection only, but we ought to consider it in the marvelous pres.
ervation of His Church, and in the raising up of the same from the
* Unbelief                     f Cried out against it.




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 221
very bottom of death, when by tyrants it has been oppressed from
age to age.
Now, of the former words of the prophet, we have to gather this
comfort; that if at any time we see the face of the Church within
this realm so defaced, as I think it shall be sooner than we look for
-when we shall see, I say, virtue to be despised, vice to be maintained, the verity of God to be impugned, lies and men's inventions
holden in authority-and finally, when we see the true religion of
our God, and the zealous observers of the same, trodden under the
feet of such as in their heart say, that " There is no God," let ub
then call to mind what have been the wondrous works of our God
from the beginning-that it is His proper office to bring light out of
darkness, order out of confusion, life out of death; and finally, that
this is He that calleth things that are not even as if they were, as
before we have heard. And if in the day of our temptation, which
in my judgment approaches fast, we are thus armed, if our incredulity can not utterly be removed, yet shall it be so corrected, that
damnable despair oppress us not. But now let us hear how the
prophet proceeds:"Come, thou My people, enter within thy chamber, shut thy door
after thee, hide thyself a very little while, until the indignation pass
over."
Here the prophet brings in God amiably,* calling upon His
people to come to Himself, and to rest with Him, until such time as
the fury and sharp plagues should be executed upon the wicked and
disobedient. It may appear at the first sight, that all these words of
the prophet, in the person of God, calling the people unto rest, are
spoken in vain; for we neither find chambers nor rest, more prepared for the dearest children of God, so far as man's judgment can
discern, than for the rebellious and disobedient; for such as fell not
by the edge of the sword, or died not of pestilence, or by hunger,
were either carried captives unto Babylon, or else departed afterward
into Egypt, so that none of Abraham's seed had either chamber or
quiet place to remain in within the land of Canaan. For the resolution hereof, we must understand, That albeit the chambers whereunto God has called His chosen be not visible, yet notwithstanding
they are certain, and offer unto God's children a quiet habitation in
spirit, howsoever the flesh be travailed and tormented.
The chambers, then, are God's sure promises, unto which God's
people are commanded to resort; yea, within which they are comman led to close themselves in the time of greatest adversity. The
* Lovingly.




222                   JOHN KNOX.
manner of speaking is borrowed from that judgment and foresight
which God has printed in this our nature; for when men espy great
tempests appearing to come, they will not willingly remain uncovered in the fields, but straightway they will draw them to their
houses or holds, that they may escape the vehemence of the same;
and if they fear any enemy pursues them, they will shut their doors,
to the end that the enemy should not suddenly have entry.
After this manner God speaks to His people; as if He should
say, The tempest that shall come upon this whole nation shall be so
terrible, that nothing but extermination shall appear to come upon
the whole body. But thou My people, that hearest My word, believest the same, and tremblest at the threatenings of My prophets, now,
when the world does insolently resist-let such, I say, enter within
the secret chamber of My promises, let them contain themselves quietly there; yea, let them shut the door upon them, and suffer not
infidelity, the mortal enemy of My truth and of My people that
depend thereupon, to have free entry to trouble them, yea, further
to murder, in My promise; and so shall they perceive that My
indignation shall pass, and that such as depend upon Me shall be
saved.
Thus we may perceive the meaning of the prophet; whereof we
have first to observe that God acknowledges them for His people
who are in the greatest affliction; yea, such as are reputed unworthy
of men's presence are yet admitted within the secret chamber of God.
Let no man think that flesh and blood can suddenly attain to that
comfort; and therefore most expedient it is, that we be frequently
exercised in meditation of the same. Easy it is, I grant, in time of
prosperity, to say and to think that God is our God, and that we
are His people; but when He has given us over into the hands of
our enemies, and turned, as it were, His back unto us, then, I say,
still to reclaim Him to be our God, and to have this assurance, that
that we are His people, proceeds wholly from the Holy Spirit of
God, as it is the greatest victory of faith, which overcomes the
world; for increase whereof we ought continually to pray.
This doctrine we shall not think strange, if we consider how
suddenly our spirits are carried away from our God, and from be,
lieving His promise. So soon as any great temptation apprehends
us, then we begin to doubt if ever we believed God's promises, if
God will fulfill them to us, if we abide in His favor, if He regards
and looks upon the violence and injury that is done unto us; and a
multitude of such cogitations which before lurked quietly in our
corrupted hearts, burst violently forth when we are oppressed with




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 223
any desperate calamity. Against which this is the remedy-once to
apprehend, and still to retain God to be our God, and firmly to believe, that we are His people whom He loves, and will defend, not
only in affliction, but even in the midst of death itself.
Again, Let us observe, That the judgments of our God never
were, nor yet shall be so vehement upon the face of the earth, but
that there has been, and shall be, some secret habitation prepared in
the sanctuary of God, for some of His chosen, where they shall be
preserved until the indignation pass by; and that God prepares
a time, that they may glorify Him again, before the face of the
world, which once despised them. And this ought to be unto us no
small comfort in these appearing dangers, namely, that we are surely
persuaded, that how vehement soever the tempest shall be. it yet
shall pass over, and some of us shall be preserved to glorify the name
of our God, as is aforesaid.
Two vices lurk in this our nature: the one is, that we can not
tremble at God's threatenings, before the plagues apprehend us,
albeit we see cause most just why His fierce wrath should burn as a
devouring fire; the other is, that when calamities before pronounced,
fall upon us, then we begin to sink down in despair, so that we
never look for any comfortable end of the same.
To correct this our mortal infirmity, in time of quietness we
ought to consider what is the justice of our God, and how odious
sin is; and, above all, how odious idolatry is in His presence, who
has forbidden it, and who has so severely punished it in all ages
from the beginning: and in the time of our affliction we ought to
consider, what have been the wondrous works of our God, in the preservation of His Church when it hath been in uttermost extremity.
For never shall we find the Church humbled under the hands of
traitors, and cruelly tormented by them, but we shall find God's just
vengeance full upon the cruel persecutors, and His merciful deliverance showed to the afflicted. And, in taking of this trial, we should
not only call to mind the histories of ancient times, but also we
should diligently mark what notable works God hath wrought, even
in this our age, as well upon the one as upon the other. WVe ought
not to think that our God bears less love to His Church this day,
than what He has done from the beginning; for as our God in His
own nature is immutable, so His love toward HIis elect remains
always unchangeable. For as in Christ Jesus He hath chosen His
Church, before the beginning of all ages; so by Him will He maintain and preserve the same unto the end. Yea, He will quiet the
storms. and calse.tbe earth to open her mouth, and receive the rag.




224                    JOHN  KNOX.
ing floods of violent waters, cast out by the dragon, to drown and
carry away the woman, which is the spouse of Jesus Christ, unto
whom God for His own name's sake will be the perpetual Protector.
This saw that notable servant of Jesus Christ, Athanasius, who
being exiled from Alexandria by that blasphemous, apostate, Julian
the emperor, said unto his flock, who bitterly wept for his envious
banishment, "Weep not, but be of good comfort, for this little
cloud will suddenly vanish." He called both the emperor himself
and his cruel tyranny a little cloud; and albeit there was small appearance of any deliverance to the Church of God, or of any pun.
ishment to have apprehended the proud tyrants, when the man of
God pronounced these words, yet shortly after God did give witness
that those words did not proceed from flesh nor blood, but from
God's very Spirit. For not long after, being in warfare, Julian
received a deadly wound, whether by his own hand, or by one of
his own soldiers, the writers clearly conclude not; but casting his
own blood against the heaven, he said, " At last Thou hast overcome, thou Galilean:" so in despite he termed the Lord Jesus. And
so perished that tyrant in his own iniquity; the storm ceased, and
the Church of God received new comfort.
Such shall be the end of all cruel persecutors, their reign shall
be short, their end miserable, and their name shall be left in execrations to God's people; and yet shall the Church of God remain to
God's glory, after all storms. But now shortly, let us come to the
last point:
"For behold," saith the prophet, " the Lord will come out of
His place, to visit the iniquity of the inhabitants of the earth
upon them; and the earth shall disclose her blood, and shall no
more hide her slain." Because that the final end of the troubles of
God's chosen shall not be, before the Lord Jesus shall return to
restore all things to their full perfection.
The prophet brings forth the eternal God, as it were, from his
own place and habitation, and therewith shows the cause of His
coming to be, that He might take account of all such as have
wrought wickedly; for that he means, where he saith, "He will
visit the iniquity of the inhabitants of the earth upon them." And
lest any should think the wrong doers are so many, that they can
not be called to an account, he gives unto the earth as it were an
office and charge, to bear witness against all those that have wrought
wickedly, and chiefly against those that have shed innocent blood
from the beginning; and saith, " That the earth shall disclose her
blool, and shall no more hide her slain men."




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY POWER. 225
If tyrants of the earth, and such as delight in the shedding of
blood, should be persuaded that this sentence is true, they would
not so furiously come to their own destruction; for what man can
be so enraged that he would willingly do, even before the eyes of
God, that which might provoke His Majesty to anger, yea, provoke
Him to become his enemy forever, if he understood how fearful a
thing it is to fall into the hands of the living God?
The cause, then, of this blind fury of the world is the ignorance
of God, and that men think that God is but an idol; and that there
is no knowledge above that beholds their tyranny; nor yet justice
that will, nor power that can, repress their impiety. But the Spirit
of truth witnesses the contrary, affirming, that as the eyes of the
Lord are upon the just, and as His ears are ready to receive their
sobbing and prayers, so is His visage angry against such as work
iniquity; He hateth and holdeth in abomination every deceitful and
blood-thirsty man, whereof He has given sufficient document from
age to age, in preserving the one, or at least ir avenging their cause,
and in punishing the other.
Where it is said, " That the Lord will come from His place, and
that He will visit the iniquity of the inhabitants of the earth upon
them, and that the earth shall disclose her blood;" we have to consider, what most commonly has been, and what shall be, the condition of the Church of God, namely, that it is not only hated, mocked,
and despised, but that it is exposed as a prey unto the fury of the
wicked; so that the blood of the children of God is spilled like unto
water upon the face of the earth.
The understanding whereof, albeit it is unpleasant to the flesh,
yet to us it is most profitable, lest that we, seeing the cruel treatment of God's servants, begin to forsake the spouse of Jesus Christ,
because she is not to dealt with in this unthankful world, as the
just and upright dealings of God's children do deserve. Bi. t contrariwise, for mercy they receive cruelty, for doing good to many,
of all the reprobate they receive evil; and this is decreed in God's
eternal counsel, that the members may follow the trace of the Head;
to the end that God in His just judgment should finally condemn
the wicked. For how should He punish the inhabitants of the
earth, if their iniquity deserved it not? How should the earth disclose our blood, if it should not be unjustly spilled? We must then
commit ourselves into the hands of our God, and lay down our
necks; yea, and patiently suffer our blood to be shed, that the righteous Judge may require account, as most assuredly He will, of all
the blood that hath been shed, from the blood of Abel the just, till
15




226                    JOHN KNOX.
the day that the earth shall disclose the same. I say, every one that
sheds, or consents to shed the blood of Gold's children, shall be
guilty of the whole; so that all the blood of God's children shall
cry vengeance, not only in general, but also in particular, upon
every one that has shed the blood of any that unjustly suffered.
And if any think it strange that such as live this day can be
guilty of the blood that was shed in the days of the Apostles, let
them consider that the Verity itself pronounced, That all the blood
that was shed from the days of Abel, unto the days of Zacharias,
should come upon the unthankful generation that heard His doctrine and refused it.
The reason is evident; for as there are two heads and captains
that rule over the whole world, namely, Jesus Christ, the Prince of
justice and peace, and Satan, called the prince of the world; so there
are but two armies that have continued battle from the beginning;
and shall fight unto the end. The quarrel which the army of Jesus
Christ sustains, and which the reprobate persecute, is the same, namely,
The eternal truth of the eternal God, and the image of Jesus Christ
printed in his elect-so that whosoever, in any age, persecutes any one
member of Jesus Christ for his truth's sake, subscribes. as it were
with his hand, to the persecution of all that have passed before him.
And this ought the tyrants of this age deeply to consider; for
they shall be guilty, not only of the blood shed by themselves, but
of all, as is said, that has been shed for the cause of Jesus Christ
from the beginning of the world.
Let the faithful not be discouraged, although they be appointed
as sheep to the slaughter-house; for He, for whose sake they suffer,
shall not forget to avenge their cause. I am not ignorant that flesh
and blood will think that kind of support too late; for we had rather
be preserved still alive, than have our blood avenged after our death.
And truly, if our felicity stood in this life, or if temporal death
should bring unto us any damage, our desire in that behalf were not
to be disallowed or condemned: but seeing that death is common to
all, and that this temporal life is nothing but misery, and that death
fully joins us with our God, and gives unto us the possession of our
inheritance, why should we think it strange to leave this world, and
go to our Head and sovereign Captain, Jesus Christ?
Lastly, We have to observe this manner of speaking, where the
prophet saith that " the earth shall disclose her blood:" in which
words the prophet would accuse the cruelty of those that dare so
unmercifully and violently force, from the breasts of the earth, the
dearest children of God, and cruelly cut their throats in her bosom,




THE SOURCE AND BOUNDS OF KINGLY  POWER  227
who is by God appointed the common mother of mankind, so that
she unwillingly is compelled to open her mouth and receive their
blood.
If such tyranny were used against any woman, as violently to
pull her infant from her breasts, cut the throat of it in her own bosom, and compel her to receive the blood of her dear child in her
own mouth, all nations would hold the act so abominable that the
like had never been done in the course of nature. No less wickedness commit they that shed the blood of God's children upon the
face of their common mother, the earth, as I said before. But be of
good courage, O little and despised flock of Christ Jesus! for He that
seeth your grief, hath power to revenge it; He will not suffer one
tear of yours to fall, but it shall be kept and reserved in His bottle,
till the fullness thereof be poured down from heaven, upon those that
caused you to weep and mourn. This your merciful God, I say, will
not suffer your blood forever to be covered with the earth; nay,
the flaming fires that have licked up the blood of any of our brethren; the earth that has been defiled with it, I say, with the blood of
God's children, (for otherwise, to shed the blood of the cruel blood.
shedders, is to purge the land from blood, and as it were to sanctify
it) the earth, I say, shall purge herself of it, and show it before the
face of God. Yea, the beasts, fowls, and other creatures whatsoever,
shall be compelled to render that which they have received, be it
flesh, blood, or bones, that appertained to Thy children, O Lord I
which altogether Thou shalt glorify, according to Thy promise, made
to us in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, Thy well-beloved Son;
to whom, with Thee, and the Holy Ghost, be honor, praise, and glory
forever and ever. Amen.
Let us now humble ourselves in the presence of our God, and
from the bottom of our hearts let us desire Him to assist us with the
power of His Holy Spirit; that albeit, for our former negligence,
God gives us over into the hands of others than such as rule in His
fear; that yet He let us not forget His mercy, and the glorious name
that hath been proclaimed among us; but that we may look through
the dolorous storm of His present displeasure, and see as well what
punishment He has appointed for the cruel tyrants, as what reward
He has laid in store for such as continue in His fear to the end. That
it would further please Him to assist, that albeit we see His Church
so diminished, that it appears to be brought, as it were, to utter extermination, we may be assured that in our God there is great power
and will, to increase the number of His chosen, until they are en.
larged to the uttermost parts of the earth. Give -s, 0 Lord! hearts




228                      JOHN  KNOX.
to visit Thee in time of affliction; and albeit we see no end of out
dolors, yet our faith and hope may conduct us to the assured hope
of that joyful resurrection, in which we shall possess the fruit of that
for which we now labor. In the mean time, grant unto us, 0 Lord!
to repose ourselves in the sanctuary of Thy promise, that in Thee
we may find comfort, till this Thy great indignation, begun among
us, may pass over, and Thou Thyself appear to the comfort of Thine
afflicted, and to the terror of Thine and our enemies.
Let us pray with heart and mouth,
Almighty God, and merciful Father, etc. Lord, unto Thy hands
I commend my spirit; for the terrible roaring of guns,* and the noise
of armor, do so pierce my heart, that my soul thirsteth to depart.
The Castle of Edinburgh was shooting agSinst the exiled for Christ Jesus' sake.




D1SCOURSE FIFTYSEVENTH.
RALPH ERSKINE.
rHE name of ERSKINE is highly distinguished among the Sc ttish
divines; there having been three prominent clergymen bearing this
cognomen. Ralph, the brother of Ebenezer, the most eloquent preacher
of the three, was born at the village of Monilaws, in Northumberland
county, March 15, 1685. He entered the University of Edinburg in
1699, and commenced the study of divinity in 1704. Five years later
he was licensed to preach, and in 1711 ordained to the charge of Dunfermline. In the unhappy secession as to the " Marrow Controversy,"
and other matters of difference of opinion, Erskine went out of the
established church, with his brother Ebenezer and others, and in 1740,
for so doing, was formally cut off from that body. He nevertheless
continued his useful ministry; and died on the 6th of November, 1752,
his last words being, " Victory, victory, victory!"
Mr. Erskine was eminent as a preacher, possessing, beside his mental
accomplishments, " a pleasant voice, an agreeable manner, and a warm,
pathetic address." In literary attainments he was far superior to most
of the Scottish clergy of his day. His numerous and diversified publications show him to have possessed acuteness of thought, energy of expression, and a rich, glowing fancy. His "Gospel Sonnets" are well
known. Several editions of his Sermons have appeared. His best discourses are those preached on sacramental occasions. That here given
is the main part of one of six sermons on the same text, with a great
number of heads, doctrines, uses, applications, and exhortations. It
is in the author's best style, and bears date of June, 1725. He is here
showing the qualities of the act described.
THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH.
"The scepter shall not depart from Judah, nor the lawgiver from between his feet, until Shiloh come; and unto Him shall the gathering of the people be."-GEl. xlix. 10.
In this gathering unto Shiloh, the soul acts believingly; and all
the other qualities of this gathering are reducible to this, and are so




230                  RALPH ERSKINE.
many ways, wherein faith acts, in coming and gathering to Christ
or how, being acted they act: and here is matter for trial; particularly then,
1. In this active gathering unto Shiloh, people are made to act
spiritually, for it is a spiritual gathering, under the conduct of the
Spirit of God, as a spirit of faith, making the soul to gather under
the wings of Christ the Messias. It is not by natural might, but by
the power of the Divine Spirit, that sinners gather to a Saviour:
"Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit, saith the Lord;"
"even the exceeding greatness of His Almighty power."  There is
a spiritual internal principle, from which the man acts, in his gathering to Shiloh, even the Spirit of God as the main, and the new heart
as the subordinate principle of faith in the man. It is not the Spirit's
working extrinsically upon the man; hypocrites may have the Spirit
working on them extrinsically, to the production of great affections
and enlargement, while they are not savingly gathered: but this spiritual act is from a spiritual principle, whereof the Spirit of God within
is the spring. The former is but a natural acting by some external
objects, it is like a pool fed by water from the clouds; the other is
like a well fed by a spring within.
Quest. How shall I know the difference betwixt these two, viz.,
the Spirit's working on me by His common motions, and His work.
ing in me as a living principle?  Why, the common motions of the
Spirit, externally moving the affections, differ from the saving operations of the Spirit internally elevating the soul to a God in Christ, as
a land-flood differs from a living spring; the land-flood is maintained
externally by the clouds, the living fountain is maintained internally
by its own spring: thus the hypocrite's frames and affections are
maintained only by external means and objects, such as the tuneable
voice of the minister; so Ezekiel was to his hearers as " a very lovely
song of one that hath a pleasant voice, and can play well on an instrument," and when the external object or excitement is over, then
their frame and affection falls, because the only thing that maintained
it is gone: whereas, in the spiritual acting of the soul that is gathering to Shiloh, though faith comes by hearing externally, yet the
Spirit of God being received by the hearing of faith, this internal
principle of spiritual life does many times animate the soul to spirit.
ual work, when all external objects and operations fail; and this may
be known, just as a spring-well is known by the bubbling up of the
water. Thus is the Spirit's inhabitation known by the actings of the
graces of the Spirit, such as faith, love, repentance, joy in the Lord.
and the like.




THE GATHERING  OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH   231
2. In gathering to Shiloh people are made to act knowirgly and
judicially, under the influences of the Spirit, as a spirit of light; and
to act as in a matter of the greatest concern, with judgment and understanding, saying, as John, "To whom shall we go? Thou hast
the words of eternal life. We believe and are sure that Thou art
Christ the Son of the living God." Many gather together in a confused way, and know not wherefore they meet together; but thi
gathering includes knowledge, and saving spiritual illumination:
" They that know Thy name will put their trust in Thee." They
that know Him will gather to Him; there must be a seeing of the
Son, before there can be a believing in Him, or gathering to Him.
Many, instead of gathering to Christ, they gather to an idol of their
own fancy; when they hear of Christ, their idolatrous carnal mind
represents a carnal image of Christ in their own brain: As those
that are said to have made idols according to their own understanding, so many in their own imagination form an idea of Christ; and
this idea or image of Christ, that they have in their own mind, is all
that they have for Christ. But, O sirs, when Christ is externally revealed in the Gospel, there must be a marvelous light discovering
Him in Himself, making Him known, though not perfectly, yet
really and truly as He is; not only as He is man, but as God-man,
having all the fullness of the Godhead in Him, and all the glory of
God appearing in His face, so as the soul can not but cleave and ad.
here to Him. A painted sun will neither give light nor heat, but the
real sun gives both: so a painted image and representation of Christ
in the imagination gives no spiritual light, heat, nor communicates
any transforming virtue; but the true Son of Righteousness ariseth
with healing under His wings. It is true, this light is not without
mists and smoke, sent forth from the bottomless pit, to darken all;
but yet there is such a clear discovery of the man's inability, of
God's gracious offer, and Christ's good will and mind to the bargain,
as determines the soul to its Deity.   *    *    *    *
3. In gathering to Shiloh, the people that are brought to Him
are made to act evangelically or to believe, in a Gospel manner, to
receive and rest upon Him, as He is offered to us in the Gospel.
There is a Gospel-ground on which the people do gather: legal faith
acts upon a legal ground, such as inherent strength and natural
righteousness; but true faith acts upon the ground of a borrowed
strength, and an imputed righteousness of another, saying, " Surely
in the Lord only have I righteousness and strength." This gathering to Shiloh is a self-renouneing business, stripping the man of his
own righteousness, of his own strength, taking him entirely off his




232                  RALPH  ERSKINE.
own bottom; they that are gathered to Christ, are gathered out of
themselves. There is a Gospel-rule also, whereby they gather, in a
suitableness to the Gospel-offer and dispensation. " So we preach,
and so ye believed."  Faith answers the Gospel-call, as the impress
upon the wax does answer the engravings of the seal; so Christ
offers Himself, and so sinners gather to Him, and believe in Him for
wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. Hence again,
there is a Gospel-order, wherein the gathering of the people is to
Him; the soul, in coming to Him, receives first the person, and then
the portion; even as God gives Christ, and then with Him all things.
The people gather to Him, in a day of Power, first, as a Jesus, and
then, as a Lord; first, for justification, and then, for sanctification.
Legal adventures invert this Gospel-order, seeking sanctification
first, that upon that bottom it may build its justification; seeking
righteousness, " as it were, by the works of the law." And however
confused and indistinct the true believer's faith may be, in his first
believing, yet repeated acts of faith may afterward make it more and
more evident to him that right believing is in the foresaid Gospelorder. There is a Gospel warrant, upon which this gathering proceeds: They that gather to Shiloh act warrantably, upon the warrant of an objective sufficiency; there is a sufficient Christ presented:
0, the sufficiency of His person, being God-man in one person; the
sufficiency of His offices and commission, being sealed of God to
be a surety, a Saviour, a prophet, priest, and king; the sufficiency
of His righteousness, His doing and dying, His obedience and satisfaction; the sufficiency of His power, as being able to save to the
uttermost; the sufficiency of His will, while He proclaims His good
will toward men; and that God is in Christ, reconciling the world
to Himself! They gather, upon the warrant of a general Gospeldispensation of grace through Christ, in the external revelation of
the word, where the elect are not characterized more than others,
but life and salvation through Christ held out to sinners of mankind, without distinction of nation, state, or condition; and so in
an indefinite way. Thus run all the promises, except these that are
made to believers, or such as have grace already; to them indeed
the promises are definite, so also they are definite to the elect, in the
decree of heaven; but in the external dispensation of the Gospel,
they are indefinite and general, saying, To you belong the Covenants and the promise; and as the promise is indefinite, so the call
is universal, whether by exhortations, invitation, entreaties, counsels, or commands, to all and every one, to come and receive Christ,
and all His sure mercies, freely, and upon these Gospel-warrants de




THE GATHERING  OF THE PEOPLE TO SH1LO,.  233
the people gather to Shiloh. In a word, the whole Covenant, and
all the promises of it, are held forth to all the people, that they may
gather to it; " I'll give thee for a Covenant of the people." Hence
we are said, "to receive the promise through faith, to be persuaded
of them; and embrace them," and the faith we are called to, is
said to be a "receiving of the word," a "taking hold of His Covenant," a " believing of the testimony." Christ can not be received,
but as He is offered; He is not offered to us, but in a word, a promise,
a testimony: hence the substantial act of faith being an assent,
there must be a word, promise, or testimony, for faith's immediate
object, wherein we see and receive Christ. If a man would see his
shadow in a glass, he first looks to the glass, and through it sees his
own shadow or image; the glass is the immediate object to which
his sight is directed; so, in order to our seeing of Christ, the glass
of the Gospel-promise is set before us. Thus a displayed Covenant of grace, as standing fast in Christ, seems to be the warrant
for the gathering of the people to Shiloh.  "Come and let us
join ourselves to the Lord, in a perpetual Covenant (says our reading) that shall not be forgotten:" I know this is viewed, by some,
in another sense, with reference to our covenanting; but I think the
original reading that others notice is very pleasant and evangelical,
for it may be read, " Come and let us join ourselves to the Lord, the
perpetual Covenant shall not be forgotten," q. d., Come and let us
gather together unto Shiloh; why, the everlasting Covenant, that
stands fast in him, who is the All of the Covenant, shall never be
forgotten: and so it may be viewed, as an encouragement of faith,
and reason for the gathering of the people to Him; behold
He is given for a Covenant of the people, and this perpetual
Covenant shall not be forgotten. Thus they are made to act evangelically.
4. In gathering to Shiloh, the people that are brought to Him
are made to act cordially and spontaneously, with heart and will;
yea, with a thousand good wills; "0  take my heart," says the man,
in the day of power, "take it, and a thousand blessings with it."
It is true, there is no gathering, no approaching to Him, without a
draught of Omnipotency; yet there is no violence in it, no force or
compulsion, but when power comes, it takes away the backwardness and unwillingness. "Thy people shall be willing." Never did
a mariner draw near to a shore with better will, after shipwreck,
than the soul comes to Christ, in the day of power; the person
being drawn, yields necessarily and willingly both: Draw me, we
will run after Thee; Draw  me, there is the Almighty power ex*




234                 RALPH  ERSKINE.
erted, in its irresistible operation; we will run, there is the volun
tary motion of the soul: so that this gathering does not destroy,
but establish the liberty of the will of the rational agent. Reason
is not hoodwinked, the person approaches to a God in Christ, upon
the most rational grounds, seeing and apprehending His misery while
far from God, and the happiness of nearness to Him in Christ. And
this gathering is as cordial as it is voluntary; as the will is inclined,
so the heart is inflamed. Hypocrites may gather to ordinances, and
gather to a communion-table with the outward man; they may draw
near to God with the mouth, and honor Him with the lip, while the
heart is far removed from Him. This is what God complains of,
" Their heart is far from Me:" But what do I regard a gathering of
dead corpses about My table and ordinances, a gathering of bodies,
while there is no gathering of hearts? But in this gracious gathering, the language of the soul is, O, many a time I have given my
heart away to the devil; I gave my heart and affections away to
lusts; I gave my heart away to the world; and now, shall I give
Christ less than I gave them? It will be a miracle if He accept of
it, after my manifold departures; but 0, if I had as many souls as I
had sins, I would give them to Him! O, if I could believe in Him
with the whole heart, pray to Him with the whole heart, serve Him
with the whole heart; and that all my affections, that have been
struggling among the creatures, may be gathered to Him, and centered in Him! Yea, in the day of power, a man finds himself so
willingly and freely to come to Christ, that he is rolled upon Him, as
if He were carried on a wave of the sea, or rather in a chariot paved
with love: formerly he found believing hard, yea, that it was impossible for him to come to Christ; but now he finds it impossible
for him to stay away from Christ: believing is so sweet and easy
then, that, as if he had wings, he flees for refuge to the hope set before him. Though, as a great divine (viz., Dr. Owen) expresses it,
faith is in the understanding, in respect of its being and subsist.
ence; yet it is in the will and heart, in respect of its effectual working: as to its essence, it lies in assent, but the saving quality of this
assent is, that it is cordial; and it is not true faith, if it be not a cordial assent to God's testimony concerning Christ. And indeed there
is a great difference betwixt a dead assent, and a cordial hearty as
sent to any truth: suppose (says one) you were in a foreign land,
and that you got a sure account that the Turks have got a victory
over the Persians; and at the same time you hear that your beloved
spouse is recovered of a dangerous disease, that all your family is
well, and your affairs prosper  there is a great difference betwixt




THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 235
the way of assenting to these two; you believe the former, but it
hath no impression on your heart, it is only a naked, heartless, unconcerned assent; but you would believe the other cordially and
gladly, because you are much concerned therein: hence you would
welcome the messenger. Thus the Gospel is not only a faithful saying, but worthy of all acceptation; and in gathering to Christ, in
the day of power, the soul acts cordially.
5. In this gathering of the people to Shiloh, they are made to
act humbly and reverentially; the man comes with a "What am I,
and what is my father's house?"  Behold I am vile, and if the Lord
shall have mercy on me, it is well, grace shall have the glory; but
if not, I may even preach His righteousness in hell, and declare He
never wronged me, He is a just God. 0 the soul acts humbly in the
day of powerful gathering, " That thou mayest remember, and be
confounded, and never open thy mouth, because of thy shame, when
I am pacified toward thee for all that thou hast done." O but a soul
convinced of its own unworthiness and desert of hell, and that scarce
can expect any thing but utter damnation, how does the first dawning of mercy melt and humble it! O whence is this to such a worm
as I! He stands behind Christ weeping, and washing His feet with
tears. When one of the first works of the Spirit in conversion, is to
give the soul a light in its hand, to go down to the dark cellars of
his heart and make discoveries, so as he stands amazed, trembling at
the sight of himself and the next work of the Spirit is to lead him
to the lightsome chamber of the King of glory, to bring him from
darkness to light, O how is he melted with a sense of mercy, and
humbled with a sense of his own monstrous vileness! "Now mine
eyes see Thee, wherefore I abhor myself." O in such a day, the man
sees his heart vile, his lips vile, his practice vile, his righteousness
vile and filthy rags; he sees in his bosom, as it were, an hell of devils and unclean spirits, that when he thinks on himself it makes him
loathe and scunner, as it were, like a man ready to bock or vomit
when he sees some filthy thing, especially among his meat; or as a
man's flesh will creep when he sees some filthy venomous toad
or viper; so it is with these that see themselves in the Lord's light,
in the day of their gathering to Shiloh. They that were never humbled, were never gathered, and they that have been deeply humbled,
have come to God with ropes about their necks, as worthy to be cast
over the gibbet, and hanged over the fire of God's everlasting vengeance; they have been humbled to the dust, yea, humbled to nothing before the Lord, and to a thousand times less and worse than
nothing; yea, they can not see such vile monsters among all the




236                 RALPH ERSKINE.
devils in hell as themselves; they come, therefore, with humility
reverence, and godly fear.
6. In this gathering of the people to Shiloh, under the influence
of gathering power and grace, they are made to act boldly, though
humbly, "Let us come boldly to the throne of grace."  "We
have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus."  " In
whom we have boldness, and access with confidence, by the faith of
Him." Here is the boldness of Faith in opposition to the boldness
of presumption. Bold faith comes walking on a sea of blood, or
rather upon the red and white pavement of the active and passive
obedience of Christ. This boldness of faith's approach to a God in
Christ is remarkable for several things: —it is remarkable for the
vehemency that is sometimes in it; O how vehemently does the soul
act when it is laying siege to heaven, by the prayer of faith and importunate supplication, crying, " Lord, I believe, help my unbelief;"
Lord, increase my faith; Lord, give a drink of the water of the well
of Bethlehem! O for a drop of the precious blood of the Lamb! O
man, woman, where are the bedsides and secret corners that can bear
witness to your besieging heaven with your vehement cries? It is
remarkable for the violence that is in it; " The kingdom of heaven
suffers violence, and the violent take it by force." The man acts as
it were violently; " If I perish, I perish," at Christ I must be. It
acts in a manner willfully; "Though He slay me, yet will I trust
in Him; I will not let Thee go, except Thou bless me." The soul,
as it were, violently casts itself upon the free grace and faithfulness
of God, in the greatest distress; and here it lies, as it were, at
anchor in such stormy days. It is remarkable for the confidence
that is in it: it hath the confidence to give God a testimonial, as it
were; when faith is acted, not only does God give the man a testimomial, " Enoch had this testimony, that he pleased God; but without Faith it is impossible to please Him;" but what is yet more
strange, faith not only gets a testimonial from God, but gives a testimonial to Him, "He that hath received his testimony hath set to his
seal that God is true." Here is the confidence and assurance of
faith; it acts upon an infallible testimony of the Divine veracity and
faithfulness; a " Thus saith the Lord," is the firm foundation upon
which faith is built. It is a receiving the record of God; and all
acts of faith without this, are but as so many arrows shot at random in
the open air. Many a confident address does faith make; it ventures
to go as far ben, as " the Holy of holies, by the blood of Jesus;" it
ventures the soul upon the blood of the Son of God, and upon the
promise ox a God in Christ: here is the boldness of faith. To gather




THE GATHERING  OF THE PEOPLE TO SHIILOH. 237
in to Shiloh and believe in Him, is in effect to say, I adventure my
soul upon nothing in the world, but upon the promise of a God that
I have provoked, and been an enemy to all my days; I have noth.
ing but the word of this God, and yet I must adventure upon it
even my everlasting ALL. It is an adventuring act, like Peter upon
the boisterous water, with this in his mouth and heart, " Master, save
me." To venture upon the promise of a provoked God, and to
believe Him to be a God in Christ reconciled according to His word,
upon account of the ransom He hath found out, and the propitiation
He hath set forth: here is the boldness of faith. And again, it is
remarkable for its resoluteness; the person, like the woman with the
bloody issue, presses resolutely through crowds of devils and lusts,
and with an irresistible intenseness of soul, forces a passage through
all obstructions, to get a touch of the scepter of King Jesus. We are
called to " come with full assurance of faith," with a holy resolution
and courage. When a poor trembling Roman approached the Emperor Augustus, he was in some fear: " What," says the Emperor,
" take you me for an elephant that will tear you?" So we should
come with boldness to Christ. He encourages the worst of sinners;
He hath given His word for it, which is firm as the pillars of heaven
and earth, and stable like mountains of brass, that " him that come.tb
He will in no wise cast out." When he comes at first He will not
cast him out; when he comes again afterward, He will not cast him
out; he will not cast out the vilest and most desperate sinner that
comes; He will not cast him out of His favor now, He will not cast
him out of heaven at last; no, no, " He will in nowise cast him out."
We may gather to Shiloh, and come with the greatest boldness; and
welcome, welcome, welcome shall we be forever. In a word, this
boldness is remarkable for the solemnity that is in it; it is a solemn
gathering: the people that gather to Shiloh come to Him with a
behold, "Behold, we come unto Thee; for Thou art the Lord our
God." The heart goes out with some kind of eminency and solemnity: "Behold we come;" let heaven and earth be witnesses; we
take instruments, as it were, in every angel's hand, in every creature's hand, in every spire of grass's hand, that we are come back to
a God in Christ; we are satisfied the whole universe attest, and
behold what we are going to do; not that the believer loves to blaze
abroad his religion indecently-no, it is especially a silent, secret,
heart-gathering and soul-approach to Shiloh; but they are so far
from being ashamed of the match, and so well pleased are they with
it, that they are content it be registrate in heaven, and that the whole




238                  RALPH  ERSKINE
creation attest it; " Behold we come!"  The man acts with a solemn
boldness.
The qualities of this penitential approach you may see. And
this penitential acting of faith runs through the whole of the believer's life in a universal tenderness of disposition and deportment,
according to the measure of faith: and there are six tender things
n it which the believer hath. 1. He hath a tender heart, called a
broken and contrite heart, broken for sin and from sin; Josiah's
heart was tender. 2. A tender conscience; some have a conscience
seared as with a hot iron, and that is a silent conscience; but the
penitent bath a smitten conscience, as David's heart smote him, when
he cut off the loop of Saul's garment. 3. A tender eye: " They
shall look on Him whom they have pierced, and mourn;" rivers of
tears run down tneir eyes, because of their own sins, and the sins of
others, who break God's law. 4. A tender ear, which being circum,ised, does hear and fear: "To this man will I look, even to hiro
that is poor, and of a contrite heat, and trembles at My word." 5
A tender lip or tongue, that dare not lie, nor speak profanely: "'.
iaid, I will take heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue."
And 6, A tender hand, that dares not touch the garments spotted
with the flesh, but studies to shun all appearances of evil; or, if you
will, you may add, lastly, that he hath a tender foot, saying with
Ilezekiah, " I will go softly all my years in the bitterness of my
soul." And this leads to another quality of this regular approach.
2dly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular approach and
address to Him is made obedientially, as well as penitentially; it is an
obediential gathering: and as faith acts penitentially, so it acts obedientially; for "it works by love," " It purifies the heart;" "and the
man that hath it purifies himself, even as God is pure." It stirs
up to new obedience; for "faith without works is dead."  Wherever
it is, it is still working, and it wan no more be idle than the fire can
be. It is true " we are justified by faith without works," as the
Apostle says, that is without the causality of works, without the
conditionality of works, without the instrumentality of works, and
without the influence of works upon our justification; but not without the presence of works; for justifying faith is a sanctifying thing,
and natively works, as the fire natively burns: Common faith is a
dead useless faith, making no change or alteration on the soul where
it is; but saving faith a-ts always obedientially; hence you read of
"the obedience of faith importing both that faith acts in obedience
to the Divine call at first, and that it influences the soul to all the
acts of Gospel obedience afterward. 0, says the returning sinner,




THE GATHERING  OF THE PEOPLE TO SH1LOtI. 239
that is making this obediential address to a God in Chtist, I have
been a fugitive servant to the most glorious Lord and Master; I have
deserted His service, and denied my obedience; but now, Lord, nail
my ear to Thy door-post, that I may serve Thee forever; nail my
heart to Thv service, that no trouble, temptation, devil or desertion may drive me away from Thee; nail my eyes to Thy service,
hat I may never look upon vanity; nail my hands to Thy service
that I may never do an ill turn; nail my feet to Thy way, that I
may never turn aside from Thee: let all the faculties of my soul be
nailed to Thy service and obedience. 3dly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular address to Him is made speedily; O the
poor soul, that sees itself ready to drop into hell, how speedily, in
the day of power, does it flee unto Christ i " I flee to Thee to hide
me," says the Psalmist. The flight of faith is very quick, quick and
swift as lightning, that goes from the one end of heaven to the other
in an instant; so when the soul is on the wing, under the influence
of the spirit of faith, it can flee from earth to heaven in a moment.
But this speedy gathering, I understand especially in opposition to
delays, which are dangerous in religon: to delay coming to Christ
for one half hour, is dangerous exceedingly; for, if you die within
that half hour, you are undone to eternity. Now, in a day of
powerful gathering, the soul makes no longer delay, but is in a
holy haste, " I made haste, and delayed not to keep Thy righteous
judgments." The man is made to fly with speed, and to run with
haste out of Sodom. 4thly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the
regular approach and address to him is made deliberately; though it
is with speed, yet it is with deliberation. Though none can believe
too soon by a saving faith, yet some believe too soon by a temporary
faith, never having weighed matters in the balance of the sanctuary.
The true approacher puts the matter in a fair balance; he puts the
disadvantages in one scale, saying, What will be my fare if I come
not to Christ? Why, " They that are far from Him shall perish."
He puts the advantages in another scale, and comes at length to
that conclusion. " It is good for me to draw near to God."  O, of
all the gatherings, the gathering to Shiloh is best; " To whom
shall I go? He hath the words of eternal life." The man is
not affected only with a transient flash; no, he sees the wicked oft
in prosperity, and the godly in adversity; he sees the large and alluring offers that sin, Satan and the world make; and yet after all,
he deliberately affirms, It is good for me to draw near to God and
Christ: let others say, "Who will show us any good?" but my
say shall be, "Lord, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance on




240                 RALPH  ERSKINE.
me. 5thly. When there is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular ap
proach and address is made chastely and uprightly. The soul views
the saying, that Christ came to save sinners from sin and wrath, not
only as a faithful saying, but as worthy of all acceptation; because
the beauty of Christ is discovered. Some have their reason conquered, but not their love; and therefore they come to Christ
feignedly, and not with the whole heart; their judgment draws one
way, and their affections another; for their judgment is gained, but
not their affections: as if one should marry a woman, not because
of her beauty, but because of her patrimony; not from love to her
person, but love to her portion. Some take on with Christ, and take
hold of the skirt of this Jew, who yet see " No form or comeliness in
Him, for which He should be desired."  But as it is said, " The upright love Thee;" so they that in gathering to Him act chastely and
uprightly, they come to Him out of pure love, not for servile ends,
not to gratify a natural conscience, not for fear of hell only, but from
a great love to Him, and a just esteem of Him, and a strong desire
of fellowship with Him. The man is content to come to Christ on
Mount Calvary, as well as on Mount Tabor; when going to Golgotha in ignominy, as well as when riding to Jerusalem in triumph:
he cleaves to Him, when people cry, "Away with Him, away with
Him; crucify Him;"' as well as when they cry, "Hosanna to the
Son of David." He loves Him when lying in a grave, as well as
when mounted on a throne. The chaste and upright comer cleaves
to Him, when kings and princes are against Him, when laws and
governments are against Him, when potentates and parliaments
are against Him, as well as when they seem to be upon His side. It
is too true indeed, that there are many unchaste thoughts, and looks,
and lustings after idols in the hearts of true believers, and many de.
fections and declinings may take place; but these are wrestled with
and opposed by them, and that not only by their light and conscience, but by their love and affection to the Lord Jesus, saying,
" O shall I thus requite the Lord?" So that in the main they are
upright. But, to the same purpose, 6thly When there is a gathering of the people to Shiloh, the right and regular approach and address to Him is made entirely and undividedly. False and hypo.
critical comers come with a divided heart to a divided Christ;
but true comers, with a whole heart to a whole Christ. The legalist
would marry Christ, while yet his other husband the law is not dead
to him, nor he dead to it; but it is an adulterous and unlawful
match, to join with another husband while the first is living.
Hence true believers in Christ are said to be "Dead to the law by




THE GATHERING OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 241
the body of Christ, that they might be married to another," etc.
And God casts down the old building, turns him out of that shelter,
lets him see all his legal duties, best performances, and most glaring
graces, are but fig-leaves, insufficient to cover his nakedness; and
discovers the necessity, excellency and glory of Christ's righteousness; and the man submits cordially to it, renouncing all hope and
expectation of life, favor and justification by the deeds of the law
The carnal man would have Christ and his lusts too; " But if you
seek Me," says Christ, "let these go their way."  Gathering grace
makes the man say, " What have I to do any more with idols?"  The
covetous man would have Christ and the world too; Christ satisfies
his conscience, and he flees to Him for that; the world satisfies his
heart, and he cleaves to it for that: but in the day of gathering
power, the emptiness of the world is discovered, and the man sells
all for the pearl of great price.
The man that comes to Christ, comes for all these four things,
For Wisdom, Righteousness, Sanctification, and Redemption; he comes
to Him  as a Prophet for wisdom, as a Priest for righteousness, as a
King for sanctification, and as his All in all for complete redemption: and he can want none of these, because he knows his own
foolishness, guiltiness, filthiness, and misery. The true believer
dares not divide righteousness from sanctification, nor pardon from
purity; yea, he comes to Christ for remission of sin for the right
end. What is that? Namely, that, being freed from the guilt of
sin, he may be freed from the dominion of it. Knowing that there
is forgiveness with Him that He may be feared, he does not believe
remission of sin that he may indulge himself in the commission of
it. No, no; the blood of Christ, that purges the conscience from
the guilt of sin, does also purge the conscience from dead works to
serve the living God. They that come to Christ regularly then,
come so to Him for righteousness, that they may have Him also
for sanctification; otherwise the man does not really desire the
favor and enjoyment of God, or to be in friendship with Him who
is a holy God. As the true lover loves Him, not only because He
is good and merciful, but because He is a pure and holy JESUS; so
the true believer employs Christ for making him holy as well as
happy; and hence draws virtue from Him for killing of sin, and
quickening the soul in the way of duty: and indeed the faith that
can never keep you from a sin, will never keep you out of hell; and
the faith that can not carry you to a duty, will not carry you to
heaven. Justifying faith is a sanctifying grace, it improves Christ
undividedly.'Tis true, as it sanctifies it does not justify; but that
16




242                  RALPH  ERSKINE.
faith that justifies, does also sanctify: as the sun that enlightens hath
heat with it, but it is not the heat of the sun that enlightens, but
the light thereof; so that faith that justifies hath love and sanctity
with it, but it is not the love and sanctity that justifies, but faith as
closing with Christ.  7thly. When there is a gathering of the people to Shiloh, the regular approach and address to him is made exclusively, excluding all other saviours, all other helps, all other props,
saying, "I will make mention of Thy righteousness, and of Thine
only." To depend partly upon Christ, and partly upon our own
righteousness, is to set one foot upon firm ground, and another upon
quicksand. If a man set one foot upon a rock, and another upon
the deep water, and lean to them both with equal weight, yea, if he
give any of his weight to the foot that is on the water, he will be
sure to sink into the deep: so here. Therefore, in the day of gathering to Christ, the soul is brought to say, "Surely in the Lord only
have I righteousness and strength." Thus Paul excludes the best
righteousness that ever he had, either before or after conversion,
from the matter of his justification. When he compares his best
righteousness with Christ's, he looks upon it as a dunghill, a stinking
dunghill where there is no pleasure, and a sinking dunghill where
there is no standing. Such is our righteousness, if it be not excluded from our justification before God, and acceptance with IEim.
If we go about to establish our own righteousness, it stinks in the
Divine nostrils as dung: and not only so, but it is a sinking ground
to stand upon, there's no firm footing; the more a man leans to it,
the more he sinks in it. Christ's blood is the only sacrifice of a
sweet-smelling savor to God; every sacrifice stinks, that is not perfumed therewith: Christ's righteousness is the only sure foundation
and firm ground for standing upon before God. As the way of sin
is a sinking way, so the way of self-righteousness is little better; for
the sin that is in man's best righteousness trips up his heels, and lays
him in the dirt, where he sinks to hell, if he be not brought to build
upon a surer ground, and to take a better way. 8thly. When there
is a gathering to Shiloh, the regular approach and address to him is
made progressively, as also peremptorily and irreversibly, saying,
"Henceforth we will not go back."  0, after we have tasted the bitterness of sin, and the bitterness of wrath, after the wings of our
souls have been singed with the flames of hell, after the arrows of
conviction shot out of the bow of Omnipotence have pierced our
souls, so as no man, minister or angel, could pull them  out. Christ
did it with His own hand, and therein manifested HIs powerful
Grace, as being the man of God's right hand, shall we again turn




THE GATHERING  OF THE PEOPLE TO SHILOH. 248
our back upon Him? No, henceforth through grace we will not go
back. The true believer comes to Christ, so as never to part with
Him, saying, as Ruth to Naomi. " Entreat me not to leave Thee, or
to return from following after Thee: for whither Thou goest, I will
go; and where Thou lodgest, I will lodge: Thy people shall be my
people, and Thy God my God. Nothing shall part Thee and me."
Yea, the man, having once come to Christ, is aye coming nearer and
nearer to Him. "To whom coming, as to a living stone, ye are
built up a spiritual house;" the building goes up gradually, and is
still going forward. Some professors are like the mill-wheel; it goes
round, yet still it stands in the same place where it was: they go
the round of duties, and morning and evening prayers, and attend
Sabbath and week-day sermons, which is well done; but they are
at a stand, they are the same now that they were ten, twenty years
ago, if not worse. But, in gathering to Shiloh, the people are made
to advance nearer and nearer to heaven, getting more knowledge,
more experience, more hatred of sin, more love and likeness to
Christ. It is true, the saints themselves have their winter-decays,
but they have also their summer revivings that set them forward
again. And thus "The path of the just is as the shining light,
which shineth more and more to a perfect day.




DISCOURSE FIFTY.EIGHTH.
JOHN M'LAURIN.
M'LAuRIN was one of the brightest ornaments of the Christian
churches of his time. He was born at Glenderule, in Argyleshire,
where his father was minister, in the year 1693. His studies were pursued at Glasgow and Leyden. In 1717 he was licensed to preach, and
in 1719 ordained minister of Luss, a county parish, situated on the banks
of Loch Lomond, about twenty miles north of Glasgow. In 1723 he
became minister in the city of Glasgow, where he died in September,
1754.
M'Laurin was a correspondent of President Edwards; and between
these two eminent and devoted ministers there existed great mutual
affection and Christian regard. It is not often that profound piety, unwearied activity, and the highest order of intellectual endowments have
been more happily united than in M'Laurin. The fruits of his pen that
remain are few, but of sterling value. They consist mainly in essays
and sermons, and an octavo volume on the "Prophecies Concerning the
Messiah," the republication of which in this country would be an acceptable service to many. The Presbyterian Board of Publication in Phila,
delphia have issued his sermons and essays in one 12mo volume. Foe
impressive eloquence he has nothing else equal to the sermon here given
It is a masterpiece; and though the several parts do not possess the sam(
degree of merit, any portion of it is too good to be omitted, so that w(
give it entire.
GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.
"But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, b:
whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world."-GALATIANS, Vi. 14.
It is an old and useful observation, that many of the most excel
lent objects in the world are objects whose excellency does not ap
pear at first view; as, on the other hand, many things of little valu




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST                245
appear more excellent at first, than a nearer view discovers them to
be. There are some things we admire, because we do not know
them; and the more we know them, the less we admire them: there
are other things we despise through ignorance, because it requires
pains and application to discover their beauty and excellency.
This holds true in nothing more than in that glorious, despised
object mentioned in the text. There is nothing the world is more
divided about in its opinion, than this. To the one part, it is altogether contemptible; to the other, it is altogether glorious. The
one part of the world wonders what attractions others find in it; and
the other part wonders how the rest of the world are so stupid as
not to see them; and are amazed at the blindness of others, and
their own former blindness.
It is said of the famous reformer Melancthon, when he first saw
the glory of this object at his conversion, that he imagined that he
could easily, by plain persuasion, convince others of it; that the
matter being so plain, and the evidence so strong, he did not see
how, on a fair representation, any could stand out against it. But,
upon trial, he was forced to express himself with regret, "that old
Adam was too strong for young Melancthon; and that human
corruption was too strong for human persuasion, without Divine
grace."
The true use we should make of this is, certainly, to apply for
that enlightening grace to ourselves which the Apostle Paul prays
for, in the behalf of the Ephesians: "That the God of our Lord
Jesus Christ may give unto us the spirit of wisdom and revelation
in the knowledge of Him." But, as here, and in other cases, prayer
and means should be joined together, so one of the chief means of a
right knowledge of the principal object of our faith, and ground of
our hope, is to meditate on the glory of that object, asserted so
strongly in this text; and that by one who formerly had as diminishing thoughts of it as any of its enemies can have.
In the verses preceding the text, the apostle tells the Galatians
what some false teachers among them gloried in; here he tells what
he himself gloried in. They gloried in the old ceremonies of the
Jewish law, which were but shadows; he gloried in the cross of
Christ, the substance. He knew it was an affront to,he substance,
to continue these shadows in their former force, after the substance
itself appeared; therefore he rejects that practice with zeal, and, at
the same time, confines his own glorying to that blessed object,
which the shadows were designed to signify. " God forbid that I
3hould glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."




246                   JOHN  M'LAURIN.
Here the apostle showeth us both his high esteem of the cross of
Christ, and the powerful influence of it upon his mind. The cross
of Christ signifies, in Scripture, sometimes our sufferings for Christ,
sometimes His sufferings for us. As the latter is the chief and most
natural sense of the words, so there is reason to think it is the sense
of the apostle here. This is the sense of the same expression in the
twelfth verse of this chapter, which speaks of persecution (that is,
our suffering) for the cross of Christ, namely, the doctrine of Christ's
cross. Besides, it is certain, that it is not our sufferings, but Christ's
sufferings, which we are chiefly to glory in, to the exclusion of all
other things; and it is not the former chiefly, but the latter, that
mortifies our corruptions, and crucifies the world to us.
The cross of Christ may signify here, not only His death but the
whole of His humiliation, or all the sufferings of His life and death;
of which sufferings the cross was the consummation. The apostle,
both here and elsewhere, mentions the cross, to remind us of the
manner of His death, and to strengthen in our minds those impressions which the condescension of that death had made, or ought to
have made, in them. That the Author of liberty should suffer the
death of a slave; the Fountain of honor, the height of disgrace; and
that the punishments which were wont to be inflicted upon the meanest persons for the highest offenses, should be inflicted on the greatest
Person that could suffer; this is the object that the apostle gloried in.
There are not two things more opposite than glory and shame;
here the apostle joins them together. The cross, in itself, is an object full of shame; in this case, it appeareth to the apostle full of
glory. It had been less remarkable had he only said he gloried in
his Redeemer's exaltation after He left the world, or in the glory He
had with the Father before He came to it, yea, before the world wasbut the object of the apostle's glorying is the Redeemer, not only
considered in the highest state of honor and dignity, but even viewed
in the lowest circumstances of disgrace and ignominy; not only as a
powerful and exalted, but as a condemned and crucified Saviour.
Glorying signifies the highest degree of esteem: the cross of
Christ was an object of which the apostle had the most exalted sentiments, and the most profound veneration; this veneration he took
pleasure to avow before the world, and was ready to publish on all
occasions. This object so occupied his heart and engrossed his affections, that it left no room for any thing else-he gloried in nothing else. And, as he telleth us in other places, he counted every
thing else but loss and dung, and would know nothing else, and was
determined about it.




GLORYING IN  tIWE CROSS OF CHRIST.             247
The manner of expressing his esteem of this object has a remarkable force and vehemence in it: " God forbid!" or, Let it by no
means happen. As if he had said, "God forbid, whatever others
do, that ever it should be said that Paul, the old persecutor, should
glory in any thing else but in the crucified Redeemer; who plucked
him as a brand out of the fire, when he was running further and
further into it; and who pursued him with mercy and kindness,
when he was pursuing Him in His members with fierceness and
cruelty. I did it through ignorance (and it is only through ignorance that any despise Him). He has now revealed Himself to me;
and God forbid that the light that met me at Damascus should ever
go out of my mind. It was a light full of glory; the object it dis.
covered was all glorious-my all in all; and God forbid that I
should glory in any thing else."
His esteem of that blessed object was great, and its influence on
him was proportionable. By it the world was crucified to him and
he was crucified to the world. Here is a mutual crucifixion. His
esteem of Christ was the cause why the world despised him, and
was despised by him. Not that the cross made him hate the men
of the world, or refuse the lawful enjoyments of it; it allowed him
the use of the latter, and obliged him to love the former. But it
crucified those corruptions which are contrary both to the love of
our neighbor and the true enjoyment of the creature. This is called
fighti-g, warring, wrestling and killing. The reason is, because we
should look upon sin as our greatest enemy; the greatest enemy of
our souls, and of the Saviour of our souls. This was the view the
apostle had of sin, and of the corruption of the world through lust.
He looked upon it as the murderer of his Redeemer; and this inspired him with a just resentment against it. It filled him with those
blessed passions against it, mentioned by himself, as the native fruits
of faith and repentance; zeal, indignation, revenge; that is, such a
detestation of sin, as was joined with the most careful watchfulness
against it.
This is that crucifying of the world meant by the apostle.
The reason of the expression is, because the inordinate love of
worldly things is one of the chief sources of sin. The cross of
Christ gave such a happy turn to the apostle's affections, that the
world was no more the same thing to him that it was to others, and
that it had been formerly to himself. His soul was sick of its pomp;
and the things he was most fond of before, had now lost their relish
with him. Its honors appeared now contemptible, its riches poor,
its pleasures nauseous; its examples and favors did not allure,'nor




248                   JOHN M'LAURIN.
its hatred terrify him. He considered the love or hatred of men,
not chiefly as it affected him, but themselves, by furthering or hin
dering the success of his doctrine among them. All these things may
be included in that "crucifying of the world" mentioned in the last
clause of the verse; but the intended ground of the discourse being
the first clause, the doctrine to be insisted on is this:
"That the cross of Christ affords sinners matter of glorying
above all other things: yea, that it is, in a manner, the only thing
they should glory in. The whole humiliation of Christ, and particularly His death for the sake of sinners, is an object that has such
incomparable glory in it, that it becomes us to have the most honorable and exalted thoughts of it." As this is evidently contained
in the text, so it is frequently inculcated on us in other Scriptures.
It is plain that when the Scriptures speak of the glory of God in
the face of Jesus Christ. it is meant chiefly of His glory in the face
of Christ crucified; that is, in the work of redemption finished on
the cross.
In discoursing on this subject, it will be proper, first, to consider
briefly, What it is to glory in any object; and then, What ground
of glorying we have in this blessed object proposed in the text.
To glory in any object includes these two things: first, a high
esteem of it; and then, some concern in it. We do not glory in the
things we are interested in unless we esteem them; nor in the things
we admire and esteem, unless we are some way interested in them.
But although all professing Christians are some way concerned to
glory in the cross of Christ, because the blessed fruits of His cross
are both plainly revealed, and freely offered to them; yet, it is those
only who have sincerely embraced these offers, that can truly glory
in that object. Yet, what is their privilege, is the duty of all. All
should be exhorted to glory in this object, and to have a high esteem of it, because of its excellency in itself; to fix their hearts on
it by faith, because it is offered to them; to show their esteem of it
by seeking an interest in it; and, having a due esteem  of it, and
obtained an interest in it, to study a frame of habitual triumph in it.
But the nature of this happy frame of mind is best understood by
considering the glory of the object of it.
The ancient prophets who foretold Christ's corning, appear transported with the view of His glory. Not only the New Testament,
but also the Old, represents the Messiah as the most remarkable and
most honorable Person that ever appeared on the stage of the world.
It speaks of Him  as a glorious Governor, a Prince, a King, a Con.
queror, besides other magnificent titles of the greatest dignity; show




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                249
ing that His government should be extensive and everlasting, and
that His glory should fill the whole earth. But, while he prophets
foretell His greatness, they foretell also His meanness. They show,
indeed, He was to be a glorious King, but a King who would be
rejected and despised of men; and that, after all the great expectation the world would have of Him, He was to pass over the stage,f the world disregarded and Unobserved, excepting as to the malicious treatment He was to meet with on it.
About the time of His coming, the Jews were big -rith hopes of
Him, as the great Deliverer and chief ornament of their nation.
And if history be credited, even the heathens had a notion about
that time, which probably was derived from the Jewish prophecies,
that there was a Prince of unparalleled glory to rise in the East,
and even in Judea in particular, who was to found a kind of uni.
versal monarchy. But their vain hearts, like those of most men in
all ages, were so intoxicated with the admiration of worldly pomp,
that that was the only greatness they had any notion or relish of.
This made them form a picture of Him who was the desire of all
nations, very unlike the original.
A king whom the world admires, is one of extensive power,
with numerous armies, a golden crown and scepter, a throne of state,
magnificent palaces, sumptuous feasts, many attendants of high
rank, immense treasures to enrich them with. and various posts of
honor to prefer them to.
Here was the reverse of all this. For a crown of gold, a crown
of thorns; for a scepter, a reed put in His hand in derision; for a
throne, a cross. Instead of palaces, not a place to lay His head; instead of sumptuous feasts to others, ofttimes hungry and thirsty
Himself; instead of great attendants, a company of poor fishermen;
instead of treasures to give them, not money enough to pay tribute
without working a miracle; and the preferment offered them, was
to give each of them His cross to bear. In all things the reverse
of worldly greatness, from first to last. A manger for a cradle at
His birth; not a place to lay His head sometimes in His life; nor a
grave of His own at His death.
Here unbelief frets and murmurs, and asks, Where is all the
glory that is so much extolled? For discovering this, faith needs
only look through that thin vail of flesh, and under that low disguise appears the Lord of glory, the King of kings, the Lord of
hosts, strong and mighty. The Lord, mighty in battle; the heavens
His throne; the earth His footstool; the light His garments, the
clouds His chariots; the thunder His voice; His strength omnipo



250                  JOHN  M'LAURIN.
tencee His rich~s all-sufficiency; His glory infinite; His retinue the
hosts cfi heavep, and the excellent ones of the earth; on whom He
bestows riches unsearchable, an inheritance incorruptible, banquets
of everlasting joys, and preferments of immortal honor; making
them kings and priests unto God; conquerors: yea, and more than
conquerors —children of God, and mystically one with Himself.
Here appears something incomparably above all worldly glory,
though under a mean disguise. But the objection is still against
that disguise. Yet even that disguise, upon due consideration, will
appear to boe so glorious, that its very meanness is honorable. It
was a gEcrious disguise, because the designs and effects of it are so.
If He isuffered shame, poverty, pain, sorrows, and death for a time,
it was that we might not suffer these things forever. That meanness, therefore, was glorious, because it was subservient unto an
infinitely glorious design of love and mercy.
It was subservient more ways than one. It satisfied the penalty
of the law; it put unspeakable honor on the commandments of it.
It was a part of Christ's design to make holiness (that is, obedience
to the law) so honorable, that every thing else should be contemptible in comparison of it. Love of worldly greatness is one of the
principle hinderances of it. We did not need the example of Christ
to commend earthly grandeur to us; but very much to reconcile us
to the contrary, and to make us esteem holiness, though accompanied with meanness. Christ's low state was an excellent means for
that end. There was therefore greatness, even in His meanness.
Other men are honorable by their station; but Christ's station was
made honorable by Him; He has made poverty and meanness,
joined with holiness, to be a state of dignity.
Thus Christ's outward meanness, that disguised His real greatness, was in itself glorious, because of the design of it. Yet that
meanness did not wholly becloud it; many beams of glory shone
through it.
His birth was mean on earth below; but it was celebrated with
hallelujas by the heavenly host in the air above. He had a poor
lodging, but a star lighted visitants to it from distant countries.
Never prince had such visitants so conducted. He had not the
magnificent equipage that other kings have; but He was attended
with multitudes of patients, seeking and obtaining healing of soul
and body. That was more true greatness than if He had been
attended with crowds of princes. He made the dumb that attended Him  sing His praises, and the lame to leap for joy; the
deaf to hear His wonders, and the blind to see His glory. He had




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.               251
no guard of soldiers, nor magnificent retinue of servants: but, as
the centurion, that had both, acknowledged, health and sickness,
life and death, took orders from Him. Even the winds and storms,
which no earthly power can control, obeyed Him  and death and
the grave durst not refuse to deliver up their prey when He demanded it. He did not walk upon tapestry; but when He walked
on the sea, the waters supported Him. All parts of the creation,
excepting sinful men, honored Him as their Creator. He kept no
treasure; but when He had occasion for money, the sea sent it to
Him in the mouth of a fish. He had no barns nor corn-fields; but
when He inclined to make a feast, a few small loaves covered a sufficient table for many thousands. None of all the monarchs of the
world ever gave such entertainment. By these, and many such
things, the Redeemer's glory shone through His meanness, in the
several parts of His life. Nor was it wholly clouded at His death.
He had not, indeed, that fantastic equipage of sorrow that other
great persons have on such occasions; but the frame of nature solemnized the death of its Author; heaven and earth were mourners.
The sun was clad in black; and if the inhabitants of the earth were
unmoved, the earth itself trembled under the awful load. There
were few to pay the Jewish compliment of rending their garments;
but the rocks were not so insensible-they rent their bowels. He
had not a grave of His own; but other men's graves opened to Him.
Death and the grave might be proud of such a tenant in their territories; but He came not there as a subject, but as an Invader-a
Conqueror. It was then that death, the king of terrors, lost his
sting: and on the third day, the Prince of life triumphed over him,
spoiling death and the grave. This last particular, however, belongs to Christ's exaltation: the other instances show a part of the
glory of His humiliation, but it is a small part of it.
The glory of the cross of Christ which we are chiefly to esteem,
is the glory of God's infinite perfections displayed in the work of
redemption, as the Apostle expresses it, "The glory of God in the
face of Jesus Christ;" even of " Christ crucified." It is this which
makes any other object glorious, according as they manifest more or
less of the perfections of God. This is what makes the work of creation so glorious. The heavens declare God's glory, and the firmament His handiwork; and we are inexcusable for not taking more
pains to contemplate God's perfections in them-His almighty power
and incomprehensible wisdom, and particularly His infinite goodness.
But the effects of the Divine goodness in the works of creation are
only tvnporal favors; the favors purchased to us by the cross of




252                  JOHN  M'LAU..TIN.
Christ are eternal. Besides, although the works oi creation plainlv
show that God is in Himself good; yet they also show that God is
just, and that He is displeased with us for our sins; nor do they
point out to us the way how we may be reconciled to Him. They
publish the Creator's glory. They publish at the same time His
laws, and our obligations to obey them. Our consciences tell us we
have neglected these obligations, violated these laws, and consequently incurred the Lawgiver's displeasure. His works declaring
His glory, show that in His favor is life, and consequently that in
His displeasure is death and ruin. Yea, they lay us in some measure under His displeasure already. Why else do natural causes
give so much trouble in life, and pain in death? From all quarters
the works of God revenge the quarrel of His broken law. They
give these frail bodies subsistence for a time, but it is a subsistence
embittered with many vexations; and at last they crush them and
dissolve them into dust.
The face of nature, then, is glorious in itself; but it is overcast
with a gloom of terror to us. It shows the glory of the Judge to thu
criminal-the glory of the offended Sovereign to the guilty rebeL
This is not the way to give comfort and relief to a criminal; it is
not the way to make him glory and triumph. Accordingly the enemies of the cross of Christ, who refuse to know God otherwise than
by the works of nature, are so far from glorying in the hopes of
enjoying God in heaven, that they renounce all those great expectations, and generally deny that there is any such blessedness to be
had. Conscience tells us we are rebels against God, and nature does
not show how such rebels may recover His favor; how, in such a
well-ordered government as the Divine government must be, the
righteous Judge and Lawgiver may be glorified, and the criminal
escape; much less how the Judge may be glorified, and the criminal
obtain glory likewise.
The language of nature, though it be plain and loud in proclaiming the glory of the Creator, yet it is dark and intricate as to His
inclination toward guilty creatures. It neither assures peremptorily
that we are in a state of despair, nor gives sure footing for our hopes.
If we are favorites, whence so many troubles? If we are hopeless
criminals, whence so manor favors? Nature shows God's glory, and
our shame; His law our duty, and consequently our danger; but
about the way to escape it is silent and dumb. It affords many motives for exciting desires after God, but it shows not the way to get
these desires satisfied. Here, in the text is an object which gives us
better intelligence. It directs us not merely to seek by feeling in




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                253
the dark, if haply we may find, but to seek Him so as to certainly
find Him. Unlikely doctrine to a carnal mind I that there should
be more of God's glory manifested to us in the face of Christ crucified, than in the face of heaven and earth. The face of ChristI in
which sense discovers nothing but marks of pain and disgrace; that
mangled visage, red with gore, covered with marks of scorn, swelled
with strokes, and pale with death: that would be the last object in
which the carnal mind would seek to see the glory of the God of
life; a visage clouded with the horror of death. It would with more
pleasure and admiration view the same face when transfigured, and
shining like the sun in its strength. Divine glory shone indeed then
in a bright manner, in that face on the mount, but not so brightly as
on Mount Calvary. This was the most glorious transfiguration of
the two. Though all the light in the world, in the sun and stars,
were collected together in one stupendous mass of light, it would be
but darkness to the glory of this seemingly dark and melancholy
object; for it is here, as the Apostle expresses it, we all, as with
open face, may behold the glory of God.
Here shine spotless justice, incomprehensible wisdom, and infinite
love, all at once. None of them darkens or eclipses the other; every
one of them gives a luster to the rest. They mingle their beams
and shine with united, eternal splendor; the just Judge, the merciful Father, and the wise Governor. No other object gives such a
display of all these perfections; yea, all the objects we know giv&
not such a display as any one of them. Nowhere does justice appear
so awful, mercy so amiable, or wisdom so profound.
By the infinite dignity of Christ's person, His cross gives more
honor and glory to the law and justice of God, than all the other
sufferings that ever were or will be endured in the world. When
the Apostle is speaking to the Romans of the Gospel, he does not
tell them only of God's mercy, but also of His justice revealed by it.
God's wrath against the unrighteousness of men is chiefly revealed
by the righteousness and sufferings of Christ.  "The Lord was
pleased for His righteousness' sake." Both by requiring and appoint.
ing that righteousness, He magnified the law, and made it honorable.
And though that righteousness consist in obedience and sufferings
which continue for a time, yet since the remembrance of them will
zontinue forever, the cross of Christ may be said to give eternal maj.
esty and honor to that law, which is satisfied; that awful law, by
which the universe (which is God's kingdom) is governed, to which
the principalities and powers of heaven are subject; that law, which
in condemrtug sin banished the devil and his angels from heave




f54.                 JOHN M]'LAURIN.
our first parents from Paradise, and peace from the earth. Consider
ing, tiherefore, that God is the Judge and Lawgiver of the world, it
is plain that His glory shines with unspeakable brightness in the
cross of Christ, as the punishment of sin. But this is the very thing
that hinders the lovers of sin from acknowledging the glory of the
cross, because it shows so much of God's hatred of what they love.
It would be useful for removing such prejudices, to consider, that
though Christ's sacrifice shows the punishment of sin, yet, if we embrace that sacrifice, it only shows it to us. It takes it off our hands
-it leaves us no more to do with it. And surely the beholding our
danger, when we behold it as prevented, serves rather to increase
than lessen our joy. By seeing the greatness of our danger, we see
the greatness of our deliverance. The cross of Christ displays the
glory of infinite justice, but not of justice only.
Here shines chiefly the glory of infinite mercy. There is nothing in the world more lovely or glorious than love and goodness itself; and this is the greatest instance of it that can- be conceived.
God's goodness appears in all His works; this is a principal part of
the glory of the creation. We are taught to consider this lower
world as a convenient habitation, built for man to dwell in; but, to
allude to the apostle's expression, this gift we are speaking of should
be accounted more worthy of honor than the world, " inasmuch as
He who hath builded the house hath more honor than the house."
When God gave us His Son, He gave us an infinitely greater gift
than the world. The Creator is infinitely more glorious than the
creature, and the Son of God is the Creator of all things. God can
make innumerable worlds by the word of His mouth; He has but
one only Son; and He spared not His only Son, but gave Him up
to the death of the cross for us all.
God's love to His people is from everlasting to everlasting; but
from everlasting to everlasting there is no manifestation of it known,
or conceivable by us, that can be compared to this. The light of
the sun is always the same, but it shines brightest to us at noon: the
cross of Christ was the noontide of everlasting love, the meridian splendor of eternal mercy. There were many bright manifestations of the
same love before, but they were like the light of the morning, that
shines more and more unto the perfect day; and that perfect day was
when Christ was on the cross, when darkness covered all the land.
Comparisons can give but a very imperfect view of this love,
which passeth knowledge. Though we should suppose that all the
love of all the men that ever were, or will be on the earth, and all
the love of the angels in heaven, united in one heart, it would be but




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                255
a cold heart to that which was pierced by the soldier's spear. The
Jews saw but blood and water, but faith can discern a bright ocean
of eternal love flowing out of these wounds. We may have some
impression of the glory of it, by considering its effects. We should
consider all the spiritual and eternal blessings received by God's people for four thousand years before Christ was crucified, or that have
been received since, or that will be received till the consummation
of all things; all the deliverances from eternal misery; all the
oceans of joy in heaven; the rivers of water of life, to be enjoyed
to all eternity, by multitudes as the sand of the sea-shore. We
should consider all these blessings as flowing from that love that was
displayed in the cross of Christ.
Here shines also the glory of the incomprehensible wisdom of
God, which consists in promoting the best ends by the fittest means.
The ends of the cross are best in themselves, and the best for us that
can be conceived: the glory of God, and the good of man. And
the means by which it advances these ends are so fit and suitable,
that the infinite depth of contrivance in them will be the admiration
of the universe to eternity.
It is an easy thing to conceive the glory of the Creator, manifested in the good of an innocent creature; but the glory of the
righteous Judge, manifested in the good of the guilty criminal, is the
peculiar mysterious wisdom of the cross. It is easy to perceive
God's righteousness declared in the punishment of sins; the cross
alone declares "His righteousness for the remission of sins."  It
magnifies justice in the way of pardoning sin, and mercy in the way
of punishing it. It shows justice more awful than if mercy had
been excluded; and mercy more amiable than if justice bad been
dispensed with. It magnifies the law, and makes it honorable. It
magnifies the criminal who broke the law; and the respect put upon
the law makes him honorable likewise. Yea, this is so contrived,
that every honor done to the criminal is an honor done to the law;
and all the respect put upon the law, puts respect on the criminal.
For every blessing the sinner receives, is for the sake of obedience
and satisfaction made to the law; not by himself, but by another,
who could put infinitely greater dignity on the law: and the satis.
faction of that other for the sinner, puts the greatest dignity on him
that he is capable of. Both the law and the sinner may "glory in
the cross of Christ." Both of them receive eternal honor and glory
by it.
The glories that are found separately in the other works of God
are found united here. The joys of heaven glorify God's goodness;




256                  JOHN  M'LAURIN.
the pains of hell glorify His justice; the cross of Christ gloriftis
both of them, in a more remarkable manner than heaven or hell
glorifies any of them. There is more remarkable honor done to the
justice 4,f God by the sufferings of Christ, than by the torment of
devils; and there is a more remarkable display of the goodness of
God in the redemption of sinners, than in the joy of angels: so that
we can conceive no object, in which we can discover such manifold
wisdom, or so deep contrivance for advancing the glory of God.
The like may be said of its contrivance for the good of man. It
heals all his diseases; it pardons all his sins. It is the sacrifice that
removes the guilt of sin; it is the motive that removes the love of
sin. It mortifies sin, and expiates it. It atones for disobedience,
and it makes obedience acceptable. It excites to obedience; it purchases strength for obedience. It makes obedience practicable; it
makes it delightful; it makes it in a manner unavoidable-it constrains to it. It is not only the motive to obedience, but the pattern
of it. It satisfies the curse of the law, and fulfills the commands of
it. Love is the fulfilling of the law; the sum of which is, the love
of God, and of our neighbor. The cross of Christ is the highest instance of both. Christ's sufferings are to be considered as actions.
Never action gave such glory to God; never action did such good
to man. And it is the way to show our love to God and man, by
promoting the glory of the one, and the good of the other.
Thus the sufferings of Christ teach us our duty by that love
whence they flowed, and that good for which they were designed.
But they teach us not only by the design of them, but also by the
manner of His undergoing them. Submission to God, and forgiveness of our ernermies, are two of the most difficult duties. The former is one of the chief expressions of love to God, and the latter of
love to man. But the highest submission is, when a person submits
to suffering, though free from guilt; and the highest forgiveness id
to forgive our murderers, especially if the murderers were persons
who were obliged to us. As if a person not only should forgive
them who took away his life, even though they owed him their own
lives; but also desire others to forgive them, pray for them, and as
much as possible excuse them. This was the manner of Christ's
bearing His sufferings: "Father, Thy will be done;" and, "Father,
forgive them; for they know not what they do."
Thus we see how fit a means the cross is for promoting the best
ends-for justification and sanctification. It would be too long to
insist here in showing its manifold fitness for promoting also joy
and peace here, and everlasting happiness hereafter: for, no doubt,




GLORYING  rN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                25t;'
it will be a great part of future happiness, to remember the way i.;
was purchased, and to see the Lamb that was slain, at the right
hand of Him who gave Him for that end. The things already adduced show, that the incomprehensible wisdom of God is gloriously
displayed in the cross of Christ, because it hath such amazing contrivance in it for advancing the good of man, as well as the glory
of God; for that is the design of it, to show the glory of God and
good-will toward man.
But it is not only the glory of Divine wisdom that shines iIn this
blessed object, but also the glory of Divine power. This, to them
who know not Christ, is no small paradox: but to them who believe, Christ crucified is "the power of God, and the wisdom of
God."  The Jews thought Christ's crucifixion a demonstration of
His want of power. Hence they upbraided Him, that He who
wrought so many miracles, suffered Himself to hang upon the cross.
But this itself was the greatest miracle of all. They asked, why He
who saved others, saved not Himself?  They named the reason,
without taking heed to it. That was the very reason why at that
time He saved not Himself, because He saved others; because He
was willing and able to save others. The  wotive of His enduring
the cross was powerful-Divine love; stronger than death; the fruits
of it powerful-Divine grace; the power of God to salvation; making new creatures, raising souls from the dead: these are acts of om1e
nipotence. We are ready to admire chiefly the power of God in
the visible world; but the soul of man is a far nobler creature than
it. WVe justly admire the power of the Creator in the motion of the
heavenly bodies; but the motion of souls toward God as their center, is far more glorious: the effects of the same power, far more
eminent, and far more lasting.
The wounds of Christ seemed effects of weakness; but it is easy
to observe incomparable strength appearing in them. We should
consider what it was that bruised Him: "Hie was bruised for our
iniquities."  The Scripture represents them as a great burden: and
describes us as all lying helpless under it, as a people laden with iniquity.  Christ bore our sins in His own body on the tree; He bore
our griefs, and carried our sorrows; not these we feel here only, but
those we deserved to feel hereafter: " The Lord hath laid on Him
the iniquity of us all."  We might well say, with Cain, our punish.
ment was more than we were able to bear. This might be said to
every one of us apart. But it was not the sins of one that He bore:
He bore the sins of many; of multitudes as the sand on the sea



258                 JOHN M'LAURIN.
shore: and the sins of every one of them as numerous. This was
the heaviest and most terrible weight in the world.
The curse of the law was a weight sufficient to crush a world.
They who first brought it on themselves found it so. It sunk le.
gions of angels who excel in strength, when they had abused that
strength against the law, from the heaven of heavens to the bottom.
less pit. The same weight that crushed rebel angels, threatened
man for joining with them. Before man could bear it, before any
person could have his own portion of it, it behooved, as it were,
to be divided into numberless parcels. Man, after numberless ages,
would have borne but a small part of it. " The wrath to come,"
would have been always wrath to come, to all eternity; there
would have been still infinitely more to bear. Christ only had
strength to bear it all, in a manner, at once; to bear it all alone.
None of the people were with Him. Our burden and our help were
laid on One who was mighty; and His bearing them was a glorious
manifestation of His might-of the noblest kind of might-that Hf
was "mighty to save."
It is true, that load bruised Him; but we should not be sur
prised at that, if we considered the dreadfulness of the shock
Could we conceive the weight of eternal justice ready to fall down,
like lightning, with violence upon a world of malefactors, and view
that sacred body interposed betwixt the load of wrath from above,
and the heirs of wrath below, we should not wonder at these bruises,
we should not despise them. We should consider the event, had
that wrath fallen lower. Had it met with no obstacle, it would have
made havoc of another kind. This world would have been worse
than a chaos, and been covered with the dismal effects of vindictive
Justice, and Divine righteous vengeance.
Although His sacred flesh was both mangled and marred with
that dismal load, yet we should consider that it sustained it. Here
was incomparable strength, that it sustained that shock which would
have ground mankind into powder; and He sustained it (as was
said before) alone. HIe let no part of it fall lower: they who take
sanctuary under this blessed covert, are so safe, that they have no
more to do with that load of wrath but to look to it. To allude to
the Psalmist's expressions: "It shall not come nigh them; only
with their eyes they shall behold, and see the reward of the wicked."
But they shall see it given to that righteous One; and all that in
effect is left to them in this matter, is, by faith, to look and behold
what a load of vengeance was hovering over their guilty heads'




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                259
and, that guiltless and spotless body being interposed, how it was
crushed in an awful manner.
But it is the end of the conflict that shows on which side the
victory is. In that dreadful struggle, Christ's body was brought as
low as the grave; but though the righteous fall, He rises again.
Death was undermost in the struggle. It was Christ that conquered
in falling, and completed the conquest in rising. The cause, design,
and effects of these wounds, show incomparable power and strength
appearing in them. The same strength appeared in His behavior
under them: and the manner in which He bore them, we see in the
history of His death. He bore them with patience, and with pity and
compassion toward others. A small part of His sorrow would have
crushed the strongest spirit on earth to death. The constitution of
man is not able to bear too great violence of joy or grief; either the
one or the other is sufficient to unhinge our frame. Christ's griefs
were absolutely incomparable, but His strength was a match for
them.
These considerations serve to show, that it is the greatest stupidity to have diminishing thoughts of the wounds of the Redeemer.
Yet, because this has been the stumbling-block to the Jews, and
foolishness to the Gentiles, and many professing Christians have not
suitable impressions of it, it is proper to consider this subject a littie more particularly. It is useful:o observe how the Scripture
represents the whole of Christ's humiliation as one great action, by
which He defeated the enemies of God and man, and founded a glorious everlasting monarchy. The prophets, and particularly the
Psalmist, speak so much of Christ as a powerful Conqueror, whose
enemies were to be made His footstool, that the Jews do still contend that their Messiah is to be a powerful temporal prince, and a
great fighter of battles; one who is to subdue their enemies by fire
and sword; and by whom they themselves were to be raised above
all the nations of the world. If pride and the love of earthly things
did not blind them, it were easy to see, that the descriptions of the
prophets are vastly too high to be capable of so low a meaning.
This will be evident by taking a short view of them: which at the
same time will show the glory of that great action just now spoken
of, by showing the greatness of the design, and the effects of it.
The prophets ofttimes speak more expressly of the Messiah as a
great King, which is a name of the greatest earthly dignity. The
hand of Pilate was overruled to write that title of honor even on
His cross. The glory of the kingdom that He was to found is represented in very magnificent expressions by the prophet Daniel




260                  JOHN  M'LAURIN.
Here are lively representations of unparalleled greatness, an ever.
lasting kingdom to be founded, strong obstacles to be removed,
powerful enemies to be defeated.
It is useful to observe the universal importance of this design; no
part of the universe was unconcerned in it.
The glory of the Creator was eminently to be displayed; all the
Divine Persons were to be gloriously manifested; the Divine attri
butes to be magnified; the Divine works and ways to be honored.
The earth was to be redeemed, hell conquered, heaven purchased,
the law to be magnified and established, its commandments to
be fulfilled, its curse to be suffered; the law was to be satisfied, and
the criminal that broke it to be saved, and his tempter and accuser to be defeated. The head of the old serpent was to be bruised,
his works to be destroyed, and the principalities and powers of darkness to be spoiled, and triumphed over openly. The principalities
and powers of heaven were to receive new matter of everlasting hallelujahs, and new companions to join in them; the fallen angels were
to lose their old subjects, and the blessed angels to receive new fellowcitizens. No wonder this is called the making a new heaven and a new
earth; and even the face of hell was to be altered. Surely a more
glorious design can not be conceived; and the more we consider it,
the more we may see the greatness of the action that accomplished it.
As the design was great, the preparations were solemn. The
stage of it was to be this earth; it was chiefly concerned in it; it
was solemnly prepared for it. This is the view given us of the
providences that preceded it. They fitted the stage of the world for
the great event in the fullness of time. If we saw clearly the whole
chain of them, we should see how they pointed toward this, as their
center, and how they contributed to honor it-or rather it reflected
the greatest honor upon them. The forecited prophecies in Daniel,
besides several others, are instances of this: they show how the
great revolutions in the heathen world were subservient to this design, particularly the succession of the four monarchies represented
in Nebuchadnezzar's dream: their rise and overthrow were subservient to the rise of this monarchy, never to be overthrown.
We see but a small part of the chain of Providence, and even
that very darkly; but this perhaps is worth the observing briefly,
that universal empire came gradually from the eastern to the western
parts of the world, from the Assyrians and Persians, to the Greeks
and Romans. By this means greater communication and correspondence than formerly were opened between distant nations of the
earth, fromn the rising to the setting of the sun. The kingdom, repre




GLORYING  IN  THE CROSS OF CHRIST,                261
Fented by the stone cut out of the mountain, was to extend to both,
Whatever we think of this, it is certain that if we saw the plot of Prov.
idence unfolded, we should see these and other revolutions contributing to the fullness of time, and adjusting the world to that state and
form of things that was fittest for the Redeemer's appearance.
These were a part of the preparations for the work in view; but
they were but a part of them: for all the sacrifices offered every
morning and evening for so many ages, were preparations for it, and
shadows of it. The same may be said of other figures and types.
The Church of God, for four thousand vears, waited, with longing
Looks for this salvation of the Lord: they were refreshed with the
sacrifices that prefigured it. The heathens themselves had their sacrifices. They had sinfully lost the tradition of the true religion and
the Messiah, handed down from Noah; yet Providence ordered it
to that they did not wholly lose the right of sacrificing. There is
eason to acknowledge a particular Providence preserving tradition
n this point; for how otherwise could it enter into men's heads to
erve their gods by sacrificing their beasts? It was useful that the
frorld should not be entirely unacquainted with the notion of a sacrifice. The substitution of the innocent in the room of the guilty,
pointed toward this great oblation, which was to make all others to
cease. The predictions of the prophets in different ages, from Moses
to Malachi, were also preparations for this great event. John the
Baptist appeared as the morning-star, the harbinger of the Dayspring from on high: it was his particular office to prepare the way
of the Lord before Him. The evidence of the prophecies was
bright: the Jews saw the time approaching; their expectations
were big. Counterfeit Messiahs took advantage of it: and not only
the Jews, but even the heathens, probably by report from them, had
a notion of an incomparably great person who was to appear about
that time. These, besides many other great things, serve to show
what glorious preparations and pomp went before the great work we
are speaking of.
Here it may perhaps occur to some, that it is strange an action
that had such great preparations before it happened, was so little observed when it did happen. Strictly speaking, this was not true.
It was not much noticed, indeed, among blind and ignorant men
-this was foretold; but it had a noble theater-the whole universe were, in effect, spectators of it. The Scripture teacheth us to
reflect on this; particularly to consider the principalities and powers
in heavenly places, as attentive lookers on this glorious performance.
We may infer this from Eph. iii. 10, besides other Scriptures




262                  JOHN M'LAURIN.
These morning-stars shouted for joy, and sang together at the
old creation. This was a new creation to sing at; a more amazing
spectacle than the old. In that, the Son of God acted in the form
of God; now He was to act the low form of a servant. Nor was
that the lowest part of it; He was to suffer in the form of a criminal;
the Judge in the form of a malefactor; the Lawgiver in the room of
the rebel. The creation was a mean theater for so great an event,
and the noblest creatures unworthy judges of such an incomprehensible performance: its true glory was the approbation of its infinite
Contriver, and that He, at whose command it was done, was fully
well pleased with it.
Yet to us, on whose natures example has so much influence, it
may be useful to consider the honorable crowd of admirers and spectators that this performance had; and to reflect how Heaven beheld
with veneration what was treated on earth with contempt. It was a
large theater —multitudes as sand on the sea-shore-a glorious company. In Scripture, angels, in comparison of men, are called gods.
We are not sensible of their glory, which struck prophets almost
dead with fear, and tempted an apostle to idolatry; but these, when
the First-begotten is brought into the world-all these gods are
commanded to worship Him. The place of Scripture where angels
are called gods, is the place where they are commanded to worship
Christ: and, according to the same apostle, it was a special time of
His receiving this glory from the hosts of heaven, when His glory
was to be vailed among the inhabitants of the earth. It is evident
that they were spectators of all that He did in that state, and no
doubt they were attentive spectators; they desired to look, as it
were, with outstretched necks, into these things. Nor could they be
unconcerned spectators: they were, on divers accounts, interested.
They did not not need a redemption themselves; but they delighted
in ours: they loved Christ, and they loved His people: their love
interested them in the glory of the one and the other. All we know
of their work and office, as Luther expresses it, "is to sing in
heaven, and minister on earth;" our redemption gave occasion for
both. They sang for joy when it began at Christ's birth; they went
with gladness on messages of it beforehand to the prophets, and to
to the Virgin Mary; they fed Christ in the desert; they attended
Him in His agony, and at His resurrection; and they accompanied
Him at His ascension. They were concerned to look into these
things in time, that were to be remembered to all eternity; and into
that performance on earth, that was to be the matter of eternal hal
lelujahs in heaven.




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF ClRIST.                263
It should not therefore hinder our esteem of this great work,
that the great men on earth took no notice of it. They were but
mean and blind, ignorant and vulgar, compared to the powers and
thrones just now mentioned, who beheld it with veneration. It is
no disparagement to an excellent performance, that it is not admired
by ignorant persons who do not understand it.
The principalities in heaven understood, and therefore admired.
Nor were the principalities and powers of darkness wholly ignorant
of it: their example should not be a pattern to us; but what they
beheld with anguish we should behold with transport. Their plot
was to make the earth, if possible, a province of hell. They had
heard of that glorious counterplot; they were alarmed at the harbingers of it; they looked on and saw their plot, step by step, defeated;
and the projects of eternal mercy go on. All the universe, therefore,
were interested on-lookers at this blessed undertaking. Heaven
looked on with joy, and hell with terror, to observe the event of an
enterprise that was contrived from everlasting, expected since the
fall of man, and that was to be celebrated to all eternity.
Thus we have before us several things that show the glory of the
performance in view; the design, of universal importance; the preipa
ration, incomparably solemn; a company of the most honorable,
attentive spectators. As to the performance itself, it is plain it is not
a subject for the tongues of men. The tongues of men are not for a
subject above the thoughts of angels; they are but desiring to look
into it; they have not seen fully through it: that is the work of
eternity. Men may speak and write of it, but it is not so proper to
describe it, as to tell that it can not be described. We may write
about it, but if all its glory were described, the world would not contain its books. We may speak of it, but the most we can say about
it is to say that it is unspeakable; and the most that we know is,
that it passeth knowledge. It is He that performed this work that
can truly declare it; it is He who contrived it that can describe it.
He it is who knows it. None knoweth the Father but the Son, and
he to whom He shall reveal Him. It is from Him we should seek
this knowledge. What of it is to be had here is but in part, but it
leads us to the place where it will be perfect. Here we think as
children, we speak as children, yet we are not therefore to neglect
thinking or speaking of it. Our thoughts are useless without contemplating it, our speech useless without praising it. The rest of
the history of the world, except as it relates to this, is but a history
of trifles or confusion —dreams and vapors of sick-brained men,
What we know of it here is but little, but that little incomparably




264                  JOHN M'LAURIIN.
transcends all other knowledge, and all other earthiy things are but
loss and dung to it. The least we can do, is, with the angels, to
desire to look into these things; and we should put up these desires
to Him who can satisfy them, that He may shine into our hearts by
" the light of the knowledge of the glory of God." The true object
of this knowledge is the glory of God, the means of obtaining it is
light shining from God, and as to the place into which it shines, it
is into our hearts. We are therefore to desire that light from Him
who is light itself But our prayers should be joined with other
means, particularly that meditation which Paul recommends to Timothy. We ought to meditate on these things, so as to give ourselves
wholly to them. Our meditation should be as lively and as like to
seeing the object before us as possible. But it is not by strength of
imagination that the soul is profited in this case, but by having the
eyes of the understanding enlightened.
The makers and worshipers of images pretend to help us in this
matter by pictures presented to the eye of the body; but it is not
the eye of sense, or force of imagination, but the eye of faith, that
can give us true notions and right conceptions of this object. Men
may paint Christ's outward sufferings, but not that inward excellency
from whence their virtue flowed, namely, His glory in Himself, and
His goodness to us. Men may paint one crucified, but how can that
distinguish the Saviour from the criminals on each side of Him?
We may paint His hands and His feet fixed to the cross, but who
can paint how those hands used always to be stretched forth for
relieving the afflicted, and curing the diseased? or how those feet
went always about doing good? and how they cure more diseases,
and do more good now than ever! We may paint the outward appearance of His sufferings, but not the inward bitterness, or invisible
causes of them. Men can paint the cursed tree, but not the curse of
the law that made it so. Men can paint Christ bearing the cross to
Calvary, but not Christ bearing the sins of many. We may describe
the nails piercing His sacred flesh, but who can describe the eternal
justice, piercing both flesh and spirit? We may describe the soldier's spear, but not the arrows of the Almighty; the cup of vinegar
which He but tasted, but not the cup of wrath which He drank out
to the lowest dregs; the derision of the Jews, but not the desertion
of the Almighty forsaking His Son, that He might never forsake us,
who were His enemies.
The sorrows He suffered, and the benefits He purchased, are.I:.llT beyond description. Though we describe His hands and
His feet mangled and pierced, who can describe how in one hand, as




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.               265
it were, He grasped multitudes of souls ready to sink into ruin, and
in the other hand an everlasting inheritance to give them? or how
these bruised feet crushed the old Serpent's head, and trampled on
death and hell, and sin the author of both? We may describe the
blood issuing from His body, but not the waters of life streaming
from the same source-oceans of spiritual and eternal blessings. We
may paint how that blood covered His body, but not how it sprinkles
the souls of others, yea, sprinkles many nations. We may paint the
crown of thorns He wore, but not the crown of glory He purchased.
Happy were it for us if our faith had as lively views of this object,
as our imagination ofttimes has of incomparably less important
objects! then would the pale face of our Saviour show more powerful attractions than all the brightest objects in nature besides. Not.
withstanding the gloomy aspect of death, it would discover such
transcendent majesty as would make all the glory in the world lose
its relish with us: we should see then, indeed, the awful frowns of
justice, but these frowns are not at us, but at our enemies-our murderers-that is, our sins. The cross shows Christ pitying His own
murderers, but it shows no pity to our murderers, therefore we may
see the majesty of eternal justice tempered with the mildness of infinite compassion. Infinite pity is an object worth looking at, especially by creatures in distress and danger. There Death doth appear
in state, as the executioner of the law, but there he also appears
deprived of his sting with regard to us. There we may hear also
the sweetest melody in the world to the awakened sinner; that
peace-speaking blood that speaks better things than that of Abel;
the sweetest and loudest voice in the world-louder than the thunder
of Sinai. Its voice reacheth heaven and earth, pleading with God
in behalf of men, and beseeching men to be reconciled to God;
speaking the most comfortable and the most seasonable things in the
world to objects in distress and danger-salvation and deliverance.
Of the various views we can take of this blessed work, this is the
most suitable-to consider it as the most glorious deliverance that
ever was or will be. Other remarkable deliverances of God's people
are considered as shadows and figures of this. Moses, Joshua, David,
and Zerubbabel, were types of this great Joshua. According to His
name, so is He, JESUS, a Deliverer. The number of the persons
delivered shows the glory of this delivery to be unparalleled. It was
but one single nation that Moses delivered, though indeed it was a
glorious deliverance, relieving six hundred thousand at once, and a
great deal more; but this was incomparably more extensive. The
Apostle John calls the multitude of the redeemed "a multitude




266                  JOHN  M'LAURIN.
which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and peo
ple, and tongues." The unparalleled glory of this deliverance appears,
not only in the number of the delivered, but also in the nature of the
deliverance. It was not men's bodies only that He delivered, but
immortal souls, more valuable than the world. It was not from such
a bondage as that of Egypt, but one as far beyond it as eternal misery is worse than temporal bodily toil: so that nothing can equal
the wretchedness of the state from which they are delivered, but the
blessedness of that to which they are brought.
But here we should not forget the opposition made against this
deliverance: it was the greatest that can withstand any good design.
The apostle teaches us to consider the opposition of flesh and blood
as far inferior to that of principalities and powers, and spiritual
wickedness in high places. The devil is called "the god of this
world;" and himself and his angels, " the rulers of the darkness of
this world." They had obtained a dominion over the world (excepting that small corner Judea), for many ages, by, the consent of the
inhabitants. They found them not only pliable, but fond of their
chains, and in love with their bondage. But they had heard of this
intended enterprise of supreme power and mercy, this invasion and
descent upon their dominions; they had heard of the design of
bruising their head, overturning their government, making their
slaves to revolt. Long experience had made them expert in the
black art of perdition; long success made them confident; and their
malice still pushed them on to opposition, whatever might be the
success. As they were no doubt apprised of this designed deliverance, and alarmed at the signs of its approach, they made all preparations to oppose it; mustered all their forces; employed all their
3kill; and, as all was at stake, made their last efforts for a kind of
decisive engagement. They armed every proper instrument, and
set every engine of spiritual destruction at work; temptations, persecutions, violence, slander, treachery, counterfeit Messiahs, and the
like.
Their Adversary appeared in a form that did not seem terrible;
not only as a man, but as one "despised of the people," accounted
as " a worm, and no man," but this made the event more glorious.
It was a spectacle worth the admiration of the universe, to see the
despised Galilean turn all the artillery of hell back upon itself; to
see One in the likeness of the Son of Man, wresting the keys of hell
and death out of the hand of the devil; to see Him entangling the
rulers of darkness in their own nets; arid making them ruin their
designs with their own stratagems. They made one disciple betray




GLORYING IN THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                267
Him, and another deny Him; they made the Jews accuse Him, and
the Romans crucify Him. But the Wonderful Counselor was more
than a match for the old Serpent, and the Lion of the tribe of Judah
too hard for the roaring lion. The devices of these powers of dark.
ness were, in the event, made means of spoiling and triumphing over
themselves. The greatest cruelty of devils and their instruments,
was made subservient to the designs of the infinite mercy of God
and that hideous sin of the sons of men, overruled in a perfectly
holy manner, for making an end of sin, and bringing in everlasting
righteousness. The opposition made to this deliverance did but advance its glory; particularly the opposition it met with from those
for whose good it was intended, that is, sinners themselves: this
served to enhance the glory of mysterious long-suffering and mercy.
It would take a long time to insist on all the opposition which
this Deliverer met with, both from the enemies of sinners, and from
sinners themselves; but at last He weathered the storm, surmounted
difficulties, led captivity captive, obtained a perfect conquest, purchased an everlasting inheritance, founded an everlasting kingdom,
triumphed on the cross, and died with the publication of His victory
in His mouth, " It is finished."
The world is represented as silent before the Lord, when He rose
up to work this great deliverance; and, as was shown before, no
part of the world was unconcerned in it. The expectation was great,
but the performance could not but surpass it. Every part of it was
perfect, and every circumstance graceful; nothing deficient, nothing
superflous, nothing but what became the dignity of the Person, and
the eternal wisdom of the contrivance. Every thing was suited to
the glorious design, and all the means proportioned to the end. The
foundation of the everlasting kingdom was laid, before it was observed by the men that opposed it; and so laid that it was impossible for the gates of hell to prevail against it; all things adjusted for
completing the deliverance, and for securing it against all endeavors
and attempts to overturn it. The great Deliverer, in that low disguise, wrought through His design, so as none could oppose it, without advancing it to the full satisfaction of that infinite wisdom that
devised it, and the eternal admiration of the creatures that beheld it.
The Father was well pleased; heaven and earth rejoiced, and
were astonished; the powers of hell fell down like lightning. In
heaven, loud acclamations and applauses, and new songs of praises
began, that are not ended yet, and never will —they will still increase. Still, new redeemed criminals from the earth, saved from
the gates of hell, and entering the gates of heaven, with a new song




268                  JOHN M'LAURIN.
of praise in their mouths, add to the ever-growing melodiy, of which
they shall never be weary: for that is their rest, their labol of love;
never to rest, day nor night, giving praise and glory to Him that
sits on the throne, and to the Lamb at His right hand; who re.
deemed them from all nations and tongues, washing them in Hisc
own blood, and making them kings and priests unto God.
But still, an objection may be made concerning the little honor
and respect this work met with on earth, where it was performed.
This, duly considered, instead of being an objection, is a commendation of it. Sin had so corrupted the taste of mankind, that it had
been a kind of reflection on this work, if it had suited it. Herein
the beauty of it appears, that it was above that depraved, wretched
state which it was designed to cure; and that it did actually work
that change on innumerable multitudes of all nations.
If the cross of Christ met with such contempt on earth, it met
also with incomparable honor. It made the greatest revolution in
the world that ever happened since the creation, or that will ever
happen till Shiloh come again; a more glorious, a more lasting
change than ever was produced by all the princes and conquerors in
the world.  It conquered multitudes of souls, and established a
sovereignty over men's thoughts, wills, and affections. This was a
conquest to which human power hath no proportion. Persecutors
turned apostles; and vast numbers of pagans, after knowing the
cross of Christ, suffered death and torments cheerfully, to honor it.
The growing light shone from east to west, and opposition was not
only useless, but subservient to it. The changes it produced are
sometimes described by the prophets in the most magnificent expressions. Thus, for instance, it turned the parched grounds into pools
-tf water; made the habitations of dragons to become places of
grass, and reeds, and rushes; made wildernesses to bud and blossom
as the rose. It wrought this change among us in the utmost isles
of the Gentiles. We ought to compare our present privileges with
the state of our forefathers, before they knew this blessed object;
and we shall find it owing to the- glory of the cross of Christ, that
we, who worship the living God, in order to the eternal enjoyment
of Him, are not worshiping the sun, moon, and stars, or sacrificing
to idols.
But the chief effects of the cross of Christ, and which show most
of its glory, are its inward effects on the souls of men. There, as
was before hinted, it makes a new creation. Christ is formed
in them, the source and the hope of glory. This is a glorious
workmanship, the image of God on the soul of man. But since




+LORYING  IN  THE CROSS OF CHRIST.                269
these effects of the cross of Christ are secret, and the shame put upon
it ofttimes too public, and since human nature is so much influenced
by example, it will be useful to take such a view of the honor done
to this object, as may arm us against the bad example of stupid unbelievers.
The cross of Christ is an object of such incomparable brightness,
that it spreads a glory round it to all the nations of the earth, all th
corners of the universe, all the generations of time, and all the ages
of eternity. The greatest actions or events that ever happened on
earth, filled with their splendor and influence but a moment of time
and a point of space; the splendor of this great object fills immensity and eternity. If we take a right view of its glory, we shall see
it, contemplated with attention, spreading influence, and attracting
looks from times past, present and to come; from heaven, earth, and
hell; angels, saints, and devils. We shall see it to be both the object of the deepest admiration of the creatures, and the perfect approbation of the infinite Creator. We shall see the best part of man.
kind, the Church of God, for four thousand years, looking forward
to it before it happened; new generations, yet unborn, rising up to
admire and honor it in continual succession, till time shall be no
more; innumerable multitudes of angels and saints looking back to
it with holy transport, to the remotest ages of eternity. Other glories
decay by length of time; if the splendor of this object change, it
will be only by increasing. The visible sun will spend his beams in
process of time, and, as it were, grow  dim  with age; this object
hath a rich stock of beams which eternity can not exhaust. If saints
and angels grow in knowledge, the splendor of this object will be
still increasing. It is unbelief that intercepts its beams. Unbelief
takes place only on earth: there is no such thing in heaven or in
hell. It will be a great part of future blessedness, to remember the
object that purchased it; and of future punishment, to remember
the object that offered deliverance from it. It will add life to the
beams of love in heaven, and make the flames of hell burn fiercer.
Its beams will not only adorn the regions of light, but pierce the
regions of darkness. It will be the desire of the saints in light, and
the great eye-sore of the prince of darkness and his subjects.
Its glory produces powerful effects wherever it shines. They
who behold this glory are transformed into the same image.
An Ethiopian may look long enough to the visible sun before it
change his black color; but this does it. It melts cold and frozen
hearts; it breaks stony hearts; it pierces adamants; it penetrates
through thick darkness. How justly is it called marvelous lightl




270                   JOHN  M'LA URIN.
Lt gives eyes to the blind to look to itself; and not only to the blind,
but to the dead. It is the light of life: a powerful light. Its energy
is beyond the force of thunder; and it is more mild than the dew
on the tender grass.
But it is impossible fully to describe all its effects, unless we
could fully reckon up all the spiritual and eternal evils it prevents,
all the riches of grace and glory it purchases, and all the Divine
perfections it displays. It has this peculiar to it, that as it is full of
glory itself, it communicates glory to all that behold it aright. It
gives them a glorious robe of righteousness; their God is their
glory; it calls them to glory and virtue; it gives them the Spirit of
God and of glory; it gives them joy unspeakable and full of glory
here, and an exceeding great and eternal weight of glory hereafter.
It communicates a glory to all other objects, according as they
have any relation to it. It adorns the universe; it gives a luster to
nature, and to Providence; it is the greatest glory of this lower
worldc, that its Creator was for awhile its inhabitant. A poor landlord thinks it a lasting honor to his cottage, that he has once lodged
a prince or emperor. With how much more reason may our poor
cottage, this earth, be proud of it, that the Lord of glory was its
tenant from  His birth to His death! yea, that He rejoiced in the
habitable parts of it before it had a beginning, even from everlasting!
It is the glory of the world that He who formed it, dwelt on it;
of the air, that He breathed in it; of the sun, that it shone on Him;
of the ground, that it bore Him; of the sea, that He walked on it;
of the elements, that they nourished Him; of the waters, that they
refreshed Him; of us men, that He lived and died among us, yea,
that He lived and died for us; that He assumed our flesh and blood,
and carried it to the highest heavens, where it shines as the eternal
ornament and wonder of the creation of God. It gives also a luster
to Providence. It is the chief event that adorns the records of time,
and enlivens the history of the universe. It is the glory of the various great lines of Providence, that they point at this as their center; that they prepared the way for its coming; that after its coming they are subservient to the ends of it, though in a way indeed
to us at present mysterious and unsearchable. Thus we know that
they either fulfill the promises of the crucified Jesus, or His threatenings; and show either the happiness of receiving Him, or the
misery of rejecting Him.




DISCOURSE FIFTY.NINTII.
RO B ERT WA LKER.
THIS eminent divine of the Scottish Church, was born at Canongate,
hil 1716, and received a regular education at the University of Edin.
burg. lIe was ordained, in 1738, minister of Straiton; and in 1746 was
transferred to the second charge of South Leith. In 1754 he was called
to be one of the ministers of Edinburg in the High Church, which position he filled with distinguished ability. In the month of February,
1782, he was seized with a fit of apoplexy; and though recovering to
some extent, he at length suddenly died in April, 1783.
Dr. Blair, who was the colleague of Walker, speaks of him in high
terms, representing him as a man of deep piety, solid judgment, and
powers of the most correct taste, which gave elegance, neatness, and
chaste simplicity to his discourses. Walker's sermons have received the
highest commendations from the ablest divines of all countries. They
may perhaps be regarded as among the safest models for the study of
young ministers. Doctrinal and evangelical, they are at the same time
highly practical, always logical, perspicuous in style, completely in.
grained with happy Scriptural quotations, and conveyed with a manly,
forcible eloquence, and a devout, earnest spirit. Walker possessed the
faultless beauty of Blair, without the elegant frigidity of his thoughts,
which, as Foster says, "became cooled and stiffened to numbness in
waiting so long to be dressed."  The sweet invitings of the compassion.
ate Saviour have seldom been set forth in a more charming, yet faithful
manner, and in a more winning and affectionate spirit, than in the fol.
lowing discourse.
THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST.
"Come unto Me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."-.
MATTr. i. 28.
It was prophesied of our Lord long before Ilis manifestation in
the flesh, that He should " proclaim liberty to the captives, and the




272                 ROBERT WALKER.
opening of the prison to them that are bound." And lo! here He
doth it in the kindest and most endearing manner, offering rest, or
spiritual relief, to every " laboring and heavy laden" sinner. " Come
unto Me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest."
In discoursing from which words, I propose, in dependence uipor
Divine aid:
First. To open the character of those to whom the invitation is
addressed;
Secondly. To explain the invitation itself, and show what is in.,
eluded in coming to Christ. After which I shall endeavor, in the
Third place. To illustrate the gracious condescending promise
with which our Lord enforces the call: " I will give you rest."
I begin with the character of those to whom the invitation is
addressed. They are such, you see, as "labor, and are heavy laden;"
that is, who feel the unsupportable load of guilt, and the galling
fetters of corrupt affections, and earnestly long to be delivered from
both; for these were the persons whom our Saviour always regarded
as the peculiar objects of His attention and care. By our fatal apos.
tasy, we forfeited at once our innocence and our happiness; we became doubly miserable, liable to the justice of God, and slaves to
Satan and our own corruptions. But few, comparatively speaking,
are sensible of this misery! The bulk of mankind are so hot in
the pursuit of perishing trifles, that they can find no leisure seriously
to examine their spiritual condition. These, indeed, have a load
upon them, of weight more than sufficient to sink them into perdition; but they are not "heavy laden" in the sense of' my text.
Our Saviour plainly speaks to those who feel their burden, and are
groaning under it; otherwise the promise of rest, or deliverance,
could be no inducement to bring them to Him. And the call is
particularly addressed to such, for two obvious reasons:
First. Because our Lord knew well that none else would comply with it. "The full soul loathes the honey-comb."  Such is the
pride of our hearts, that each of us would wish to be a saviour to
himself, and to purchase heaven by his own personal merit. This
was the "rock of offense" upon which the Jews stumbled and fell:
they could not bear the thought of being indebted to the righteousnpss of another for pardon and acceptance with God; for so the
apostle testifies concerning them. " Being ignorant of God's righteousness, they wen4 about to establish their own righteousness, and
did not submit themselves unto the righteousness of God." And
still this method of justifying sinners is opposed and rejected by




THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST.    273
every "natural man."  He feels not his disease, and therefore treats
the physician with contempt and scorn: whereas the soul that is
enlightened by the Spirit of God, and awakened to a sense of its
guilt and pollution, lies prostrate before the mercy-seat, crying out
with Paul when struck to the ground, "Lord, what wilt Thou have
me to do?" It was therefore with peculiar significancy, that our
Lord introduced His sermon upon the Mount by adjudging the king
dom of heaven to the " poor in spirit," placing humility in the front
of all the other graces, as being the entrance into religious temper,
the beginning of the Divine life, the first step of the soul in its return to God.
Secondly. The "laboring and heavy laden" are particularly distinguished, because otherwise, persons in that situation, hopeless of
relief, might be in danger of excluding themselves from the offer of
mercy. If there was only a general call to come to the Saviour, the
humble convinced soul, pressed down with a sense of its guilt and
depravity, might be ready to object, Surely it can not be such a
worthless and wicked creature as I am, to whom the Lord directs
His invitation. And therefore, He "' who will not break the bruised
reed, nor quench the smoking flax," doth kindly encourage them
by this special address, that the very thing which to themselves
would appear the greatest obstacle in the way of mercy, might become the means of assuring them that they are the very persons for
whom mercy is prepared.
Let this, then, encourage every weary, self-condemning sinner.
The greater your guilt appears in your own eye, the greater ground
you have to expect relief if you apply for it. Mercy looks for nothing but an affecting sense of the need of mercy. Say not, If my burden were of a lesser weight, I might hope to be delivered from it; for
no burden is too heavy for Omnipotence: He who is "mighty to
save," can easily remove the most oppressive load; "His blood
cleanseth from all sin." and A" by llm ah who believe are justitieo
from all things."  This great'nysician did not come to heal some
slight distempers, but to cure those inveterate plagues, which none
besides Himself was able to cure. Whatever your disease be, it
shall neither reproach His skill nor His power, and all that He requires on your part is a submissive temper to use the means He prescribes, with a firm reliance upon their virtue and efficacy. If you
are truly convinced that your guilt is so great, and your corruptions
so strong that none in heaven or on earth can save you from them
but Christ alone-if you are groaning under the burden of sin, and
can find no rest till pardoning mercy and sanctifying grace brings
18




274                 ROBERT WALKER.
you relief, then are you in the very posture which my text describes,
and I may warrantably say unto you what Martha said to Mary,
"Arise, quickly, the Master is come, and calleth for thee." And this
is His call, "Come unto Me."  Which is the
Second thing I proposed to explain. Now, for understanding
this, it will be necessary to remind you of the different characters
which our Lord sustains; or, in other words, the important offices
which He executes as our Redeemer. These, you know, are three,
to wit, the offices of a Prophet, of a Priest, and of a King; in each
of which the Lord Jesus must be distinctly regarded by every soul
that comes to Him. Accordingly, you may observe, that in this
gracious invitation He exhibits Himself to our view in all these characters; for to the condescending offer of removing our guilt, He immediately annexes the command, " Take My yoke upon you, and
learn of Me."
Such is our misery by the fall, that we are not only become the
objects of God's righteous displeasure, and liable to that awful punishment which was the penalty of the first covenant, but our nature
is wholly diseased and corrupted; so that " in us, in our flesh, dwell1
eth no good thing." Our understanding is darkened, filled with
prejudices against the truth, and incapable of discerning spiritual
objects: " For the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit
of God, they are foolishness to Him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." Our will is stubborn and rebellious, like " an iron sinew," which no force can bend; so inflexible
in its opposition to the Divine law that it is called in Scripture
" enmity against God;" and all our affections are wild and ungovernable, deaf to the voice of reason and conscience, in perpetual discord
among themselves, and wholly alienated from God, in whom alone
they should unite and center. Such a Saviour, therefore, was necessary for our relief, as could effectually remedy all those evils, and not
only redeem us from wrath, but likewise prepare us for happiness,
by restoring our nature to that original perfection from which it had
fallen.
For this end, our Lord Jesus Christ, that He might be in all
respects furnished for His great undertaking, was solemnly invested
by His heavenly Father with each of the important offices I have
named; that our understanding being enlightened by His Divine
teaching, and our will subdued by His regal power, we mignt be
capable of enjoying the fruits of that pardon, which, as our great
High Priest, He hath purchased with His blood. Now in all these
characters the Scriptures propose Him to our faith, and we do not




THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRIST.                275
comply with the invitation in my text, unless we come to  rim for
the proper work of each office, and embrace Him in the full extent
of His commission, that:' of God He may be made unto us wisdom,
and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption."
It is true, indeed, that the soul, in its first approach to Christ,
doth principally regard Him as a priest or a sacrifice; and therefore
faith, as it is employed for justification, or pardon, is emphatically
styled " Faith in His blood." To this God looks when He justifies
the sinner; He views him as sprinkled with the blood of atonement,
and therefore to the same blood the sinner must necessarily look
upon his first application to Christ. When the criminal under the
law fled to the horns of the altar, he considered the temple rather as
a place of protection than of worship. The authority of a teacher,
and the majesty of a king, are objects of terror to a self-condemning
sinner, and by no means suit his present necessity. Christ, as suffer
ing, and "bearing our sins in His own body on the tree," is the
only object that can yield him relief and comfort; for where shall he
find the rest of his soul but where God found the satisfaction of His
justice?
Nevertheless, though Christ upon the cross be the first and most
immediate object of faith, yet the believer doth not stop there; but,
having discovered a sufficient atonement for his guilt, he proceeds to
contemplate the other characters of his Redeemer, and heartily
approves of them all as perfectly adapted to all his necessities. He
hearkens to His instruction, and cheerfully submits to His yoke, and
covets nothing so much as to be taught and governed by Him. The
ingenuity of faith speaketh after this manner: Seeing Christ is my
Priest to expiate my guilt, it is but just and reasonable that He
should be my Prophet to teach me, and my King to rule over me;
that as I live by His merits, I should also walk by His law.
O blessed Jesus! saith the soul that comes to Him, Thou true
and living way to the Father I I adore Thy condescending grace in
becoming a sacrifice and sin-offering for me: and now: encouraged
by Thy kind invitation, I flee to Thee as my only city of refuge; I
come to Thee " wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and
naked"-I have no price to offer Thee, no goodness at all to recommend me to Thy favor: "laboring, and heavy laden," I cast myself
at Thy feet, and look to Thy free mercy alone for the removal of
this burden, which, without Thy interposition, must sink me down
to the lowest hell. Abhorring myself in every view I can take, I
embrace Thee for my righteousness; sprinkled with Thy atoning
blood, I shall not fear the destroying angel —justice hath already




276                ROBERT WALKER.
had its triumph on Thy cross, and therefore I take Thy cross for my
sanctuary. This is mny rest; and here will I stay, for I like it
well.
Nor is this my only errand to Thee, 0 thou complete Saviour 
I bring to Thee a dark benighted mind to be illuminated with
saving knowledge. "Thou hast the words of eternal life;"'"in
Thee are hid all the treasures of wisdom:" I therefore resign my
understanding to Thy teaching: for " No man knoweth the Father
but the Son, and those to whom the Son shall reveal Him."
I likewise choose Thee for my Lord and my King; for "Thou
art altogether lovely," and in every character necessary to my soul.
Here are enemies whom none can vanquish but Thyself; here are
corruptions, which nothing less than all-conquering grace can subdue: I therefore implore Thine almighty aid. Do thou possess Thy
throne in my heart, and cast out of it whatever opposeth or offendeth Thee. It is Thine already by purchase; 0 make it Thine also
by conquest! and perform the whole work of a Saviour upon it.
After this manner doth the believer address himself to Christ;
and thus doth he answer the call to come unto Him. From all
which we may learn our duty in this matter. Let every laboring
and heavy laden sinner, who hears me this day, speedily betake himself to the same happy course: plead his own call, and humbly
claim His gracious protection; flee without delay to His atoning
blood, and cleave to Him as the Lord your "righteousness and youT
strength." I shall afterward represent to you those sure grounds of
hope which may encourage you to do this.
In the mean time let us consider the gracious promise with
which our Lord enforces the invitation, "I will give you rest."  This
was the
Third thing I proposed to illustrate.
There can be no doubt that the rest here spoken of, must be, at
least, of equal extent with the burden, and include a deliverance
from every cause of trouble to the soul. But this subject is an ocean
without bottom or shore; we can not measure the length or breadth
of it, neither can its depth be fathomed; for " the riches of Christ are
unsearchable;" and surely no tongue can express what the mind it.
self is unable to comprehend. Nevertheless I shall attempt to say a
few things which may be of use to help forward your comfort and
joy, till eternity shall unfold the whole to your view.
Doth the guilt of sin and the curse of the law lie heavy upon thy
soul?  " Behold the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of
the world." In the sacrifice of Christ there is an infinite merit thus




THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED TO CHRISr.    277
can never be exhausted. He hath satisfied the most extensive demands of justice, and purchased a full and everlasting indemnity to
every penitent believing sinner: so that "now there is no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus."  No sooner doth a soul
come to Him in the manner I described, than it " passeth from death
to life." He spreads His righteousness over it, and under that coverng, presents it to His heavenly Father: from that happy moment
it is no longer under the law, but under grace: " For Christ hath
redeemed us from the curse of the law, by His being made a curse
for us." And what a plentiful source of consolation is this! Well
may the sinner " be of good cheer," to whom Christ hath said, "Thy
sins are forgiven thee."
Do you feel a law in your members warring against the law of
your mind? Are you harassed with temptations, and so environed
with "a body of death," that you are made to cry out, as Paul once
did, "O wretched man, who shall deliver me I" Look up to that
Prince and Saviour, whom God hath exalted, not only to give remission of sins, but likewise to bestow repentance upon His people,
and grace to help them in every time of need. Christ hath obtained
the Holy Spirit, by whose almighty aid the Christian can do all
things. He will plant that immortal seed in your hearts, which shall
gradually kill the weeds of corruption: so that, according to His
faithful word of promise, though sin may lodge and fight within
you, yet it shall not be able to get " dominion over you."
Do you fear that some unforeseen cause may provoke Him to
forsake you, to withdraw His love and the communications of His
grace?  Know that "the gifts and callings of God are without
repentance."  Christ is the " good Shepherd, who carries the lambs
in His bosom;" and therefore they can not perish, because none is
strong enough to pluck them out of His hand. The believer is not
left to stand by himself; He who is the author is likewise the finisher
of His people's faith. Omnipotence is their guardian; and they are
"kept," not by their own strength, but "by the power of God,
through faith unto salvation."
These three are surely the heaviest burdens with which the soul
of man can be oppressed; and you see that the Lord Jesus is able to
remove them all. There are, no doubt, many other causes of discouragement to which we are liable, so long as we sojourn in this
valley of tears; but as none of them are equal to those I have
already named, we may certainly conclude that He who performs
the greater work can, with infinite ease, perform the lesser also.
And, indeed, if I might stay upon this branch of the subiect,




278                 ROBERT WALKER
it would be no difficult task to show that in all other respects
believers "are complete in Christ," and may by faith derive from
Him whatever is necessary either for their safety or comfort in this
world: "' For it hath pleased the Father, that in Him should all full.
ness dwell," as it is written.
But if we would behold the rest here spoken of in its utmost ex..
tent and highest perfection, we must look above us to that heavenly
world, from which sin, and all the painful effects of it, are eternally
excluded. "There remaineth a rest," said the apostle, "for the
people of God." Great and manifold are their privileges even in
this world; but beyond all these, are still more glorious and enriching blessings that await them in the next, which our " ears have not
yet heard, neither can our hearts conceive." When we attempt to
think of that exalted happiness, we can do little more than remove
from it in our minds all those afflicting evils and grounds of discouragement which we may presently feel: only we must conclude,
that whatever the particular ingredients are, the happiness itself
must be, in all respects, worthy of its glorious Author, and proportioned to the infinite price that was paid for it. Our Lord Himself
calls it a " kingdom," nay, a " kingdom prepared from the foundation of the world;" and the Apostle Peter hath recorded three of its
distinguishing properties, where he styles it an " inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away."
Such, my brethren, is that rest which Christ will finally bestow
upon His people. They shall "enter into the joy of their Lord."
All their burdens shall drop with their natural bodies; none of them
can pass beyond the grave. Then faith and hope shall become sight
and enjoyment; then love grown perfect shall cast out fear, and
nothing shall remain of all their former trials, but the grateful remembrance of that friendly hand which supported them, and hath
at length crowned their " light and momentary afflictions," with a
"far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory."
And now, in the review of all that has been said, methinks every
sinner who hears me should be ready to answer the call of my text
in the language of Peter, "Lord, to whom  shall we go but unto
Thee? for Thou hast the words of eternal life." 0 that there were
such hearts in us! But perhaps some humble soul may say, Gladly
would I go to this Saviour, willingly would I throw myself at His
feet and implore His protection; but such, alas I is my vileness and
unworthiness, so long have I slighted His offers and abused His
grace, that I fear this call, kind as it is, doth not extend to me: my
case is singularly bad, and my sins have been aggravated to such a




THE HEAVY LADEN INV TED TO CHRIST.    279
degree that my desponding heart hath already pronounced the sentence of condemnation; and the doom appears so just, so righteous,
that I can see no ground to hope that ever it shall be reversed. For
removing this obstacle, which seems to lie in the way of your return
to Christ, let me beg your attention to the following particulars.
Consider the great condescension of this Redeemer. While He
was upon the earth, He never rejected any who sought relief from
Him: like a sanctuary, whose gates stand continually open, He gave
free undebarred access to all, insomuch that His enemies, by way of
reproach, styled Him " the friend of publicans and sinners." Neither
did our Lord disown the character: on the contrary, He gloried in
it, and proclaimed it openly to the world; declaring, upon all proper
occasions, that " He was come to seek, and to save that which was
lost." For this end, He assumed our nature; for this end, He suffered and died; and upon the same benevolent design, He is now
gone up to heaven, "where He appears in the presence of God for
us;"-" that if any man sin, He may have an advocate with the
Father," to solicit His pardon, and to plead His cause. And may
not these discoveries of His merciful nature expel your fears, and
revive your hope? Has He in a manner laid aside the majesty of a
sovereign, and put on the mild and amiable aspect of a tender-hearted, sympathizing friend? and may not this by itself encourage you
to draw near to Him, and to claim the blessings of that rest He hath
obtained for His people?
But, lo! He bath prevented you even in this: for all the proofs
of His good-will to men, He superadds the most warm and pressing
invitations, to come to Him for relief from all their burdens. "In
the last day, the great day of the feast, Jesus stood and cried, If any
man thirst, let him come unto Me, and drink."  "Behold," said He
to the degenerated church of the Laodiceans, "Behold, I stand at
the door, and knock: if any man will hear My voice, and open the
door, I will come in to him, and sup with him, and he with Me."
And in the concluding chapter of the Revelation, it is written, " The
Spirit and the Bride say, Come: and let him that is a-thirst come:
and whosoever will, let him come, and take the water of life freely."
So that you see my text is not a singular instance of condescension;
the Scriptures are replenished with invitations of the same kind;
and they are all expressed in the most extensive and absolute terms,
on purpose, as it were, to obviate every possible objection, and to
remove all jealousy from the most desponding sinners, who might
otherwise have suspected that the call did not reach so far as them.
But lest the offer of a Saviour, when viewed as a privilege,




980                ROBERT WALKER.
might still appear in the eyes of some a privilege too high for them
to aspire to, therefore it hath pleased the Father to interpose His
authority, and to make it our duty to embrace the offer: as we learn
from that remarkable passage, "This is the command of God, that
we should believe on the name of His Son Jesus Christ." So that
faith in Christ becomes an act of obedience; the law of the Supreme Governor is the sinner's warrant to come to the Saviour; and
therefore it can be no presumption in any, however guilty they have
been, to flee to this city of refuge, seeing He who hath appointed it,
not only permits, but peremptorily commands them to repair to it.
And to crown all, our Lord Himself hath declared in the most
solemn manner, that none shall be rejected who come to Him for
salvation. These are His words: "Him that cometh to Me I will
in no wise cast out." I will receive him with outstretched arms; I
will tenderly embrace and cherish him, and so unite him to Myself,
that the combined force of earth and hell shall never be able to dissolve the union, or to separate His soul from My unchangeable
love.
Lift up thy head, then, 0 "laboring and heavy laden" sinner!
Ponder with due attention, those grounds of encouragement I have
briefly suggested. Doth the Father command you to believe on His
Son? Doth the Lord Jesus invite, nay, entreat you to come to Him,
and at the same time assure you that " He will in no wise cast you
out?" And shall not this multiplied security remove all your
doubts, and bring you to Him with an humble, but steadfast, hope of
obtaining that rest which He offers unto you? Say not henceforth,
My burden is so heavy, and my guilt so great, that I dare not go to
Him; but rather say, My burden is so heavy, that I must go to Him;
for no other arm can remove it but His own. He offers you His
help, because you are miserable; He invites you to come to Him,
not because you deserve, but because you need His aid. Arise then,
0, sinners! and obey His call: cast your burden upon Him who is
mighty to save; yield yourselves, without reserve, to this faithful
Redeemer, to be justified by His blood, and sanctified by His Spirit;
" take His yoke upon you, and learn of Him;" and then you shall
find rest to your soul.
But what shall I say to those who have never as yet felt the
burden of sin? who, amid the deepest poverty and wretchedness,
imagine themselves to be "rich, and increased with goods, and to
stard in need of nothing?" Alas! my friends, what can we do for
such? Shall I denounce the curses of a broken Covenant to alarm
their fears? Shall I publish the terrors of the Lord and by these




THE HEAVY LADEN INVITED  TO CHRIST.    281
persuade them to flee from the wrath to come?  Indeed, considerations of this kind seem proper and necessary, to rouse them from
that deadly sleep into which they are cast. And believe it, 0, sinners I that no representations of this sort, however awful they might
appear, could exceed, or even equal, the dreadful reality; for who
knoweth the "power of God's anger?"
But as my text breathes nothing but love and clemency, I shall
rather, upon this occasion, "beseech you by the meekness and gentleness of Christ," and fetch my arguments from the endearing con.
descensions of His mercy and grace.
Know, then, 0, sinners I that, after all the contempt you have
thrown upon Him, He is still willing to become your Saviour. Ungrateful as you have been, He once more opens His arms, and in.
vites you to come unto Him. He sends us forth this day, to call
after you in His name, and to intreat you in His stead to be reconciled to God. Behold, in the Gospel-offer, He lays, as it were, His
crucified body in your way, to stop you in your self-destroying
course. And will you still press onward, " and trample under-foot
the Son of God?" Behold, His blood, like a mighty river, flows
between you and the place of torment; and will you force your
passage to the everlasting burning through this immense ocean of
redeeming love?  0, sinners, think of this! all who perish under
the Gospel must carry this dreadful aggravation along with them:
that mercy was in their offer, and they would not accept it; nay,
that they insulted and abused the mercy that would have saved
them. And "can your hearts endure, or can your hands be strong,
in the day that God shall deal with you" for this contempt?  For
the Lord's sake, open your eyes in time; look upon Him whom you
have pierced by your sins, and mourn. I address you as the angels
did Lot, when they brought him forth from Sodom; "Escape for
thy life, look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain:"
Flee to the Saviour, "lest thou be consumed."




DISCOURSE  SIXTIETH.,
HUGH BLjAIR, D.D.
THIS celebrated divine was born at Edinburg, in 1718, and educated
m the University of that city. He was licensed to preach in 1741,
when he became minister of Collossie, in Fife. In 1743 he was ap.
pointed minister of the Canongate, Edinburg; in 1754, he was removed
to Lady Yester's, and in 1759, to the High Church, where he continued
during the remainder of his life. Upon the formation of a professorship of Rhetoric and Belles-letters, in that city, Dr. Blair was appointed
the professor, and here originated his celebrated " Lectures on Composition," first published in 1783. The first volume of his sermons appeared in 1777, and acquired a wide popularity. For publishing them
he was rewarded with a pension of two hundred pounds per annunm.
Dr. Blair died in 1800.
The sermons of Blair are illustrative of a certain school of pulpit elo.
quence, wonderfully popular in his day, in which beauty and literary
elegance were more cared for than the earnest grapple of the truth
upon the mind and conscience. The remorseless criticism of John Foster, upon the sermons of this author, is well known. Nevertheless,
though, as Foster says, they are free from the property of Pericles'
eloquence, "which left stings behind," yet his sermons are by no means
destitute of even high merit, as furnishing specimens of fine taste, neat
and perspicuous style, concise statement, and beautiful simplicity. In
these respects they are models of their kind. It should be added that
though generally lacking in the clear enunciation of some of the great
doctrines of revelation, many of his discourses are highly evangelical
This last remark applies to the one here given; which, by common con.
sent, is allowed to be the best of his discourses. The title is ours.
THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME.
"Jesus lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said, Father  the hour is come." —JoaN,
xvii 1.
These were the woids of our blessed Lord on a memorable occasion. The feast of the Passover drew nigh, at which He knew that




THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME.    283
He was to suffer. The night was arrived wherein He was to be deliveled into the hands of His enemies. He had spent the evening in
conference with His disciples, like a dying father in the midst of his
family, mingling consolations with his last instructions. When He
had ended His discourse to them, "He lifted up His eyes to heaven,"
and with the words which I have now read, began that solemn
prayer of intercession for the Church, which closed His ministry
Immediately after, He went forth with His disciples into the garden
of Gethsemane, and surrendered Himself to those who came to apprehend Him.
Such was the situation of our Lord at the time of His pronounc.
ing these words. He saw His mission on the point of being accomplished. He had the prospect full before Him of all that He was
about to suffer-" Father I the hour is come."  What hour? An
hour the most critical, the most pregnant with great events, since
hours had begun to be numbered, since time had begun to run. It
was the hour at which the Son of God was to terminate the labors
of His important life by a death still more important and illustrious;
the hour of atoning, by His sufferings, for the guilt of mankind; the
hour of accomplishing prophecies, types, and symbols, which had
been carried on through a series of ages; the hour of concluding the
old, and of introducing into the world the new, dispensation of religion; the hour of His triumphing over the world, and death, and
hell; the hour of His erecting that spiritual kingdom which is to last
forever. Such is the hour. Such are the events which you are to
commemorate in the sacrament of our Lord's Supper. I shall attempt
to set them before you as proper subjects, at this time, of your devout
meditation. To display them in their genuine majesty is beyond the
ability of man.
I. This was the hour in which Christ was glorified by His sufferings. The whole of His life had discovered much real greatness
under a mean appearance. Through the cloud of His humiliation,
His native luster often broke forth; but never did it shine so bright
as in this last, this trying hour. It was indeed the hour of distress
and of blood. He knew it to be such; and when He uttered the
words of the text, He had before His eyes the executioner and the
cross, the scourge, the nails, and the spear. But by prospects of
this nature His soul was not to be overcome. It is distress which
ennobles every great character; and distress was to glorify the Son
of God. He was now to teach all mankind by His example, how to
suffer and to die. He was to stand forth before His enemies as the
faithful witness of the truth, justifying by His behavior the charac



284                   HUGH BLAIR.
ter which He assumed, and sealing by His blood the doctrines which
He taught.
What magnanimity in all His words and actions on this great
occasion! The court of Herod, the judgment-hall of Pilate, the hill
of Calvary, were so many theaters prepared for His displaying all
the virtues of a constant and patient mind. When led forth to suffer, the first voice which we hear from Him is a generous lamentation
over the fate of His unfortunate though guilty country; and to the
last moment of His life we behold Him in possession of the same
gentle and benevolent spirit. No upbraiding, no complaining expression escaped from His lips during the long and painful approaches
of a cruel death. He betrayed no symptom of a weak or a vulgar,
of a discomposed or impatient mind. With the utmost attention of
filial tenderness He committed His aged mother to the care of His
beloved disciple. With all the dignity of a sovereign He conferred
pardon on a penitent fellow-sufferer. With a greatness of mind beyond example, He spent His last moments in apologies and prayers
for those who were shedding His blood.
By wonders in heaven, and wonders on earth was this hour distinguished. All nature seemed to feel it; and the dead and the liv-;ng bore witness of its importance. The vail of the temple was rent
in twain. The earth shook. There was darkness over all the land.
The graves were opened, and " many who slept arose, and went into
the holy city." Nor were these the only prodigies of this awful
hour. The most hardened hearts were subdued and changed. The
judge who, in order to gratify the multitude, passed sentence against
Him, publicly attested His innocence. The Roman centurion who
presided at the execution, "glorified God," and acknowledged the
Sufferer to be more than man.' After he saw the things which had
passed, he said, Certainly this was a righteous person: truly this was
the Son of God." The Jewish malefactor who was crucified with
Him addressed Him as a King, and implored His favor. Even the
crowd of insensible spectators, who had come forth as to a common
spectacle, and who began with clamors and insults, "returned home
smiting their breasts." Look back on the heroes, the philosophers,
the legislators of old. View them in their last moments. Recall
every circumstance which distinguished their departure from the
world. Where can you find such an assemblage of high virtues, and
of great events, as concurred at the death of Christ? Where so many
testimonials given to the dignity of the dying person by earth and
by heaven?




THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME.   285i
II. This was the hour in which Christ atoned for the sins of
Inankind, and accomplished our eternal redemption. It was the
Lour when that great sacrifice was offered up, the efficacy of which
reaches back to the first transgression of man, and extends forward
to the end of time; the hour when, from the cross, as from an high
altar, the blood was flowing which washed away the guilt of the
nations.
This awful dispensation of the Almighty contains mysteries
which are beyond the discovery of man. It is one of those things
into which "the angels desire to look." What has been revealed to
us is, that the death of Christ was the interposition of Heaven for
preventing the ruin of human kind. We know that under the government'of God, misery is the natural consequence of guilt. After
rational creatures had, by their criminal conduct, introduced disorder
into the Divine kingdom, there was no ground to believe that by
their penitence and prayers alone they could prevent the destruction
which threatened them. The prevalence of propitiatory sacrifices
throughout the earth, proclaims it to be the general sense of mankind,
that mere repentance was not of sufficient avail to expiate sin or to
stop its penal effects. By the constant allusions which are carried
on in the New Testament to the sacrifices under the law, as pre-signifying a great atonement made by Christ, and by the strong expressions which are used in describing the effects of His death, the sacred
writers show, as plainly as language allows, that there was an efficacy
in His sufferings far beyond that of mere example and instruction.
The nature and extent of that efficacy we are unable as yet, fully to
trace. Part we are capable of beholding; and the wisdom of what
we behold we have reason to adore. We discern, in this plan of
redemption, the evil of sin strongly exhibited, and the justice of the
Divine government awfully exemplied, in Christ suffering for sinners. But let us not imagine that our present discoveries unfold the
whole influence of the death of Christ. It is connected with causes
into which we can not penetrate. It produces consequences too extensive for us to explore. " God's thoughts are not as our thoughts."
In all things we " see only in part;" and here, if any where, we see
also " as through a glass, darkly."
This, however, is fully manifest, that redemption is one of the
most glorious works of the Almighty. If the hour of the creation
of the world was great and illustrious; that hour, when, from the
dark and formless mass, this fair system of nature arose at the
Divine command; when " The morning-stars sang together, and all
the ions of God shouted for joy;" no less illustrious is the hour of




286                   HUGH BLA
the restoration of the world; the hour when, from condemnation
and misery, it emerged into happiness and peace. With less external majesty it was attended; but it is, on that account, the more wonderful, that, under an appearance so simple, such great events were
covered.
III. In this hour the long series of prophecies, visions, types,
and figures were accomplished. This was the center in which they
all met: this the point toward which they had tended and verged;
throughout the course of so many generations. You behold the Law
and the Prophets standing, if we may speak so, at the foot of the
cross, and doing homage. You behold Moses and Aaron bearing
the ark of the covenant; David and Elijah presenting the oracle of
testimony. You behold all the priests and sacrifices, all'the rites
and ordinances, all the types and symbols assembled together to receive their consummation. Without the death of Christ, the worship
and ceremonies of the law would have remained a pompous, but unmeaning, institution. In the hour when He was crucified, " the book
with the seven seals" was opened. Every rite assumed its significancy;
every prediction met its event; every symbol displayed its correspondence.
The dark and seemingly ambiguous method of conveying important discoveries under figures and emblems, was not peculiar
to the sacred books. The spirit of God in pre-signifying the
death of Christ, adopted that plan, according to which the whole
knowledge of those early ages was propagated through the world.
Under the vail of mysterious allusion, all wisdom was then concealed.
From the sensible world, images were every where borrowed, to describe things unseen. More was understood to be meant than was
openly expressed. By enigmatical rites, the priest communicated
his doctrines; by parables and allegories, the philosopher instructed
his disciples; even the legislator, by figurative sayings, commanded
the reverence of the people. Agreeably to this prevailing mode of
instruction, the whole dispensation of the Old Testament was so
conducted, as to be the shadow and figure of a spiritual system.
Every remarkable event, every distinguished personage, under the
law, is interpreted in the New Testament, as bearing reference to the
hour of which we treat. If Isaac was laid upon the altar as an innocent victim; if David was driven from his throne by the wicked, and
restored by the hand of God; if the brazen serpent was lifted up to
heal the people; if the rock was smitten by Moses, to furnish drink
in the wilderness; all were types of Christ and alluded tc His death.
In predicting the same event the language of ancient prophecy




rHE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME.   287
was magnificent, but seemingly contradictory: for it foretold a
Messiah, who was to be at once a sufferer and a conqueror. TI'h
Star was to come out of Jacob, and the Branch to spring from the stern
of Jesse.  The Angel of the Covenant, the desire of all nations, was -to
come suddenly to His temple; and to Him was to be " the gathering
of the people."  Yet, at the same time, He was to be "' despised and
rejected of men;" he was to be "taken from prison and from
judgment," and to be "led as a lamb to the slaughter."  Though
He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief," yet " the
Gentiles were to come to His light, and kings to the brightness of
His rising." In the hour when Christ died, those prophetical riddles
were solved: those seeming contradictions were reconciled. The
obscurity of oracles, and the ambiguity of types, vanished. The
I" sun of righteousness" rose; and, together with the dawn of religion,
those shadows passed away.
IV. This was the hour of the abolition of the law, and the in.
troduction of the Gospel; the hour of terminating the old and of
beginning the new dispensation of religious knowledge and worship
throughout the earth. Viewed in this light, it forms the most
august era which is to be found in the history of mankind. When
Christ was suffering on the cross, we are informed by one of the
evangelists, that He said, "I thirst;" and that they filled a sponge
with vinegar, and put it to His mouth. " After He had tasted the
vinegar, knowing that all things were now accomplished, and
the Scriptures fulfilled, he said, It is finished;" that is, this
offered draught of vinegar was the last circumstance predicted
by an ancient prophet, that remained to be fulfilled. The vision
and the prophecy are now sealed: the Mosaic dispensation is closed.
"And He bowed His head and gave up the ghost."
"It is finished."  When He uttered these words He changed the
state of the universe. At that moment the law ceased, and the Gospel commenced. This was the ever-memorable point of time which
separated the old and the new worlds from each other. On one side
of the point of separation, you behold the law, with its priests, its
sacrifices, and its rites, retiring from sight. On the other side, you
behold the Gospel, with its simple and venerable institutions, coming
forward into view. Significantly was the vail of the temple rent in
this hour; for the glory then departed from between the cherubim.
The legal high priest delivered up his Urim and Thummim, his
breast-plate, his robes, and his incense: and CHRIST stood forth as
the great High Priest of all succeeding generations. By that one
sacrifice which He now offered, He abolished sacrifices forever.




288                   HUGH BLAIR.
Altars on which the fire had blazed for ages, were now to smoke nc
more. Victims were no more to bleed. " Not with the blood of
bulls and goats, but with His own blood He now entered into the
holy place, there to appear in the presence of God for us."
This was the hour of association and union to all the worship
ers of God. When Christ said, "It is finished," He threw down
the wall of partition which had so long divided the Gentile from the
Jew. He gathered into one, all the faithful out of every kindred
and people. He proclaimed the hour to be come when the knowledge of the true God should be no longer confined to one nation,
nor His worship to one temple; but over all the earth, the worship.
ers of the Father should "serve Him in spirit and in truth." From
that hour they who dwelt in the " uttermost ends of the earth, strangers to the Covenant of promise," began to be "brought nigh."  In
that hour the light of the Gospel dawned from afar on the British
Islands.
During a long course of ages, Providence seemed to be occupied in preparing the world for this revolution. The whole Jewish
economy was intended to usher it in. The knowledge of God
was preserved unextinguisbed in one corner of the world, that
thence, in due time, might issue forth the light which was to overspread the earth.  Successive revelations gradually enlarged the
views of men beyond the narrow bounds of Judea, to a more extensive kingdom  of God.  Signs and miracles awakened their
expectation, and directed their eyes toward this great event.
Whether God descended on the flaming mountain, or spoke by the
Prophet's voice; whether He scattered His chosen people into capuvity, or re assembled them in their own land; He was still carryin on a progressive plan, which was accomplished at the death of
Christ.
Not only in the territories of Israel, but over all the earth, the
great dispensations of Providence respected the approach of this
important hour. If empires rose or fell; if war divided, or peace
united, the nations; if learning civilized their manners, or philosophy enlarged their views; all was, by the secret decree of Heaven,
made to ripen the world for that " fullness of time," when Christ was
to publish the whole counsel of God. The Persian, the Macedonian, the Roman conqueror, entered upon the stage each at his predicted period; and "though He meant not so, neither did His heart
think so," ministered to this hour. The revolutions of power, and
the succession of monarchies, were so arranged by Providence, as to
facilitate the progress of the Gospel through the habitable world,




THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME.   289
after the day had arrived, "when the stone which was cut out of the
mountain without hands, should become a great mountain and fill
the earth." This was the day which " Abraham saw afar off, and
was glad." This was the day which "many prophets, and kings,
and righteous men, desired to see, but could not;" the day for
which "the earnest expectation of the creature," long oppressed
with ignorance, and bewildered in superstition, might be justly said
to wait.
V. This was the hour of Christ's triumph over all the powers of
darkness; the hour in which He overthrew dominions and thrones,
"led captivity captive, and gave gifts unto men." The contest
which the kingdom of darkness had long maintained against the
kingdom of light was now brought to its crisis. The period was
come when "the seed of the woman shall bruise the head of the
serpent." For many ages, the most gross superstition had filled the
earth. " The glory of the incorruptible God" was every where, except in the land of Judea, " changed into images made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and beasts, and creeping things." The
world, which the Almighty created for Himself, seemed to have become a temple of idols. Even to vices and passions altars were
raised; and what was entitled Religion, was in effect a discipline of
impurity. In the midst of this universal darkness, Satan had erected
his throne and the learned and the polished, as well as the savage
nations, bowed down before him. But at the hour when Christ appeared on the cross, the signal of his defeat was given. His kingdom suddenly departed from him: the reign of idolatry passed
away: He was " beheld to fall like lightning from heaven." In that
hour the foundation of every Pagan temple shook. The statue of
every false god tottered on its base. The priest fled from his falling
shrine; and the heathen oracles became dumb forever.
As on the cross, Christ triumphed over Satan, so He overcame
his auxiliary, the world. Long had it assailed Him with its temptations and discouragements; in this hour of severe trial, He surmounted them all. Formerly He had despised the pleasures of the
world. He now baffled its terrors. Hence He is justly said to have
"crucified the world."  By His sufferings He ennobled distress;
and He darkened the luster of the pomp and vanities of life. He
discovered to His followers the path which leads, through affliction,
to glory and to victory; and He imparted to them the same spirit
which enabled Him to overcome. "My kingdom is not of this
world. In this world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good
cheer, I have overcome the world."
19




290                   HUGH BLAIR.
Death also, the last foe of man, was the victim of this hourt
The formidable appearance of the specter remained; but his dart
was taken away. For, in the hour when Christ expiated guilt, He
disarmed death, by securing the resurrection of the just. When He
said to His penitent fellow-sufferer, " To-day thou shalt be with Me
in paradise," He announced to all His followers the certainty of heavenly bliss. He declared the cherubim to be dismissed, and the
flaming sword to be sheathed, which had been appointed at the fall,
"' to keep from man the way of the tree of life." Faint, before this
period, had been the hope, indisstinct the prospect, which even good
men enjoyed of the heavenly kingdom. "Life and immortality
were now brought to light." From the hill of Calvary the first
clear and certain view was given to the world of the everlasting
mansions. Since that hour, they have been the perpetual consolation of believers in Christ. Under trouble, they soothe their minds;
amid temptation, they support their virtue; and in their dying moments enable them to say, " O, death! where is thy sting? 0, grave I
where is thy victory?"
VI. This was the hour when our Lord erected that spiritual
kingdom which is never to end. How vain are the counsels and
designs of men I How shallow is the policy of the wicked I How
short their triumphing! The enemies of Christ imagined that in
this hour they had successfully accomplished their plan for His destruction. They believed that they had entirely scattered the small
party of His followers, and had extinguished His name and His
honor forever. In derision they addressed Him as a king. They
clothed. Him with purple robes; they crowned Him with a crown
of thorns; they put a reed into His hand; and, with insulting mockery, bowed the knee before Him. Blind and impious men! How
little did they know that the Almighty was, at that moment " setting
Him as a king on the hill of Sion; giving Him the heathen for His
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for His possession i"
How little did they know that their badges of mock royalty were at
that moment converted into the signals of absolute dominion, and
the instruments of irresistible power! The reed which they put
into His hands became " a rod of iron," with which He was to " break
in pieces His enemies;" a scepter with which He was to rule the universe in righteousness. The cross, which they thought was to stig.
matize Him with infamy, became the ensign of His renown. In.
stead of being the reproach of His followers, it was to be their boast
and their glory. The cross was to shine on palaces and churches,
through ut the earth. It was to be assumed as the distinction of




THE HOUR AND THE EVENT OF ALl TIME.   291
the most powerful monarchs, and to wave in the ba iner of victori.
ous armies when the memory of Herod and Pilate should be
accursed; when Jerusalem should be reduced to ashes, and the Jews
be vagabonds over all the world.
These were the triumphs which commenced at this hour. Our
Lord saw them already in their birth; " He saw of the travail of
His soul, and was satisfied." He beheld the word of God going
forth, conquering, and to conquer; subduing, to the obedience of
His laws, the subduers of the world; carrying light into the regions
of darkness, and mildness into the habitations of cruelty. He beheld the Gentiles waiting below the cross, to receive the Gospel.
He beheld Ethiopia and the Isles stretching out their hands to God;
the desert beginning to rejoice and to blossom as the rose; and the
knowledge of the Lord filling the earth, as the waters cover the sea.
Well pleased, He said, "It is finished."  As a conqueror, He retired from the field, reviewing His triumphs: " He bowed His head
and gave up the ghost." From that hour, Christ was no longer a
mortal man, but " Head over all things to the Church;" the glorious
King of men and angels, of whose dominion there shall be no end.
His triumphs shall perpetually increase. "His name shall endure
forever; it shall last as long as the sun; men shall be blest in Him,
and all nations shall call Him blessed."
Such were the transactions, such the effects, of this ever-memorable hour. With all those great events was the mind of our Lord
filled, when He lifted up His eyes to heaven, and said, " Father I the
hour is come."
From this view which we have taken of this subject, permit me
to suggest, what ground it affords to confide in the mercy of God for
the pardon of sin; to trust to His faithfulness, for the accomplishment of all His promises; and to approach to Him, with gratitude
and devotion, in acts of worship.
In the first place, the death of Christ affords us ground to confide in the Divine mercy for the pardon of sin. All the steps of
that high dispensation of Providence, which we have considered,
lead directly to this conclusion, " He that spared not His own Son,
but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also
freely give us all things?" This is the final result of the discoveries
of the Gospel. On this rests the great system of consolation, which
it hath reared up for men. We are not left to dubious and intricate reasonings, concerning the conduct which God may be expected
to hold toward His offending creatures: but we are led to the view
of important and illustrious facts which strike the mind with evi.




292                    HUGH BLAIR.
dence irresistible. For is it possible to believe. that such great operations, as I have endeavored to describe, were carried on by the
Almighty in vain? Did He excite in the hearts of His creatures
such encouraging hopes, without any intention to fulfill them? After so long a preparation of goodness, could He mean to deny forgiveness to the penitent and the humble? When they come by the
sense of guilt, man looks up with an astonished eye to the justice
of his Creator, let him recollect that hour of which the text speaks,
and be comforted. The signals of Divine mercy, erected in his
view, are too conspicuous to be either distrusted or mistaken.
In the next place, the discoveries of this hour afford the highest
reason to trust in the Divine faithfulness for the accomplishment of
every promise which remains yet unfulfilled. For this was the hour
of the completion of God's ancient covenant.
It was the " performance of the mercy promised to th( fathers."
We behold the consummation of a great plan, which, throughout a
course of ages, had been uniformly pursued; and which, against
every human appearance, was, at the appointed moment, exactly fulfilled. "No word that is gone out of the mouth of the Lord shall
fail." No length of time alters His purpose. No obstacles can retard
it. Toward the ends accomplished in this hour, the most repugnant
instruments were made to operate. We discern God bending to His
purpose the jarring passions, the opposite interests, and even the
vices of men; uniting seeming contrarieties in His scheme; making
"the wrath of man to praise Him;" obliging the ambition of princes,
the prejudices of the Jews, the malice of Satan, all to concur, either
in bringing forward this hour, or in completing its destined effects.
With what entire confidence ought we to wait for the fulfillment of
all His other promises in their due time; even when events are most
embroiled, and the prospect is most discouraging: "Although thou
sayest, thou canst not see Him, yet judgment is before Him; therefore trust thou in Him." Be attentive only to perform thy duty;
leave the event to God, and be assured, that under the direction of
His Providence, " all things shall work together" for a happy issue.
Lastly, the consideration of this whole subject tends to excite
gratitude and devotion, when we approach to God in acts of worship.
The hour of which I have discussed, presents Him to us in the amiable light of the Deliverer of mankind, the Restorer of our forfeited
hopes. We behold the greatness of the Almighty, softened by the
mild radiance of condescension and mercy. We behold Him diminishing the awful distance at which we stand from His presence, by
appointing for us a Mediator and Intercessor, through whom the




THE HO R AND THE EVENT OF ALL TIME,   293
humble may, without dismay, approach to Him who made them.
By such views of the Divine nature, Christian faith lays the foundation for a worship which shall be at once rational and affectionate;
a worship in which the light of the understanding shall concur with
the devotion of the heart, and the most profound reverence be united
with the most cordial love. Christian faith is not a system of speculative truths. It is not a lesson of moral instruction only. By a
train of high discoveries which it reveals, by a succession of interesting objects which it places in our view, it is calculated to elevate the
mind, to purify the affections, and by the assistance of devotion, to
confirm and encourage virtue. Such, in particular, is the scope of
that Divine institution, the Sacrament of our Lord's Supper. To
this happy purpose let it conduce, by concentering in one striking
point of light all that the Gospel has displayed of what is most important to man. Touched with just contrition for past offenses, and
filled with a grateful sense of Divine goodness, let us come to the
altar of God, and, with a humble faith in His infinite mercies, devote
ourselves to His service forever.




DISCOURSE SIXTY.FIRST
JOHN LOGAN, F.R.S.
Lo(4A  was born in 1748, at Fulla, in the county of Mid-Lothian, of
parents who belonged to the Burgher Seceders, and was educated at the
parochial school and the University of Edinburg. Having completed his
theological studies, he soon became celebrated for his eloquence, and was
called to become one of the ministers of South Leith Church and parish.
He was desirous of high literary success, and its honors and emoluments,
in which he was somewhat disappointed, and possessing a sensitive nature, melancholy came over his spirits, dissatisfaction arose among his
parishioners, and he at length resigned the ministry, and devoted his remaining days to literary pursuits. In the bloom of his years, health declined, and he closed his life December 25th, 1788.
Logan was a man of elegant taste and fervid genius, and published at
different times, poems of a lyric, dramatic, and elegiac character. Of his
sermons, some forty in number, and recently published in this country,
Dr. Wheddon remarks, " If mastery in any department is to be learned
from the masters, to few masters of pulpit style in our language, can our
ministry resort superior to Logan. In the richness and range of his language, in the graceful swell of his ever-varying periods, in the animated
expansion of his climactic paragraphs, he satisfies the fancy, while in the
chasteness and manliness of his style, in the purity of his diction, and the
burnish of his texture, he may challenge the severest taste, and assert
himself a place among the English classics." The following is certainly
a production of high order in point of literary excellence.
THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH.
"0 death, where is thy sting? 0 grave, where is thy victory? Thanks Le to God
wh;o giveth us the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ."-1 COR. xv. 55, 57.
The Messiah is foretold in ancient prophecy, as a magnificent
Conqueror. His victories were celebrated, and His triumphs were




THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DE. TH.    295
sung, long before the time of His appearance to Israel. "Who is
this," saith the prophet Isaiah, pointing Him out to the Old Testament Church, "Who is this that cometh from Edom; with dyed
garments from Bozrah? This that is glorious in His apparel, traveling in the greatness of His strength?" " I have set my King upon
my holy hill of Zion. I shall give Him the heathen for His inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for His possession." As
a Conqueror, He had to destroy the works of the great enemy of
mankind; and to overcome death, the king of terrors.
The method of accomplishing this victory, was as surprising as
the love which gave it birth. " Forasmuch as the children are partakers of flesh and blood, He Himself likewise took part of the
same, that through His own death, He might destroy Him that had
the power of death, that is the devil, and deliver them, who, through
fear of death, were all their lifetime subject to bondage." Accordingly, His passion on the cross, which you have this day commemorated, was the very victory which He obtained. The hour in
which He suffered, was also the hour in which He overcame. Then
He bruised the head of the old serpent, who had seduced our first
parents to rebel against their Maker; then He disarmed the king of
terrors, who had usurped dominion over the nations; then triumphing over the legions of hell, and the powers of darkness, He made
a show of them openly. Not for Himself, but for us did He conquer. The Captain of our salvation fought, that we might overcome. He obtained the victory, that we may join in the triumphal
song, as we now do, when we repeat these words of the apostle:
"O0 death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?"
It is the glory of the Christian religion, that it abounds with
consolations under all the evils of life; nor is its benign influence
confined to the course of life, but even extends to death itself. It.
delivers us from the agony of the last hour; sets us free from the
fears which then perplex the timid; from the horrors which haunt
the offender, though penitent, and from all the darkness which involves our mortal state. So complete is the victory we obtain, that
Jesus Christ is said in Scripture to have abolished death.
The evils in death, from which Jesus Christ sets us free, are the
following: in the first place, The doubts and fears that are apt to
perplex the nind, from the uncertainty in which a future state is
involved. Secondly. The apprehensions of wrath and forebodings
of punishments, proceeding from the consciousness of sin. Thirdly.
The fears that arise in the mind upon the awful transition from this
world to the next




296                   JOHN  LOGAN.
In the first place, Jesus Christ gives us victory over death, by
delivering us from the doubts and fears which arose in the minds cf
those who knew not the Gospel, from the uncertainty in which a
future state was involved.
Without Divine Revelation, men wandered in the dark with
respect to an after life. Unassisted reason could give but imperfect
nformation on this important article. Conjectures, in place of dis.
coveries, presumptions, in place of demonstrations, were all that it
could offer to the inquiring mind. The unenlightened eye could
not clearly pierce the cloud which vailed futurity from mortal view.
The light of nature reached little further than the limits of this
globe, and shed but a feeble ray upon the region beyond the grave.
Hence, those heathen nations, of whom the apostle speaks, are described as sorrowing and having no hope. And whence could reason
derive complete information, that there was a state of immortality
beyond the grave? Consult with appearances in nature, and you
find but few intimations of a future life. Destruction seems to be
one of the great laws of the system. The various forms of life are
indeed preserved; but while the species remains, the individual perishes. Every thing that you behold around you bears the marks of
mortality and the symptoms of decay. He only who is, and was,
and is to come, is without any variableness or shadow of turning.
Every thing passes away. A great and mighty river, for ages and
centuries, has been rolling on, and sweeping away all that ever
lived, to the vast abyss of eternity. On that darkness light does
not rise. From that unknown country none return. On that devouring deep, which has swallowed up every thing, no vestige appears of the things that were.
There are particular appearances also which might naturally
excite an alarm for the future. The human machine is so constituted, that soul and body seem often to decay together. To the eye
of sense, as the beast dies, so dies the man. Death seems to close
the scene, and the grave to put a final period to the prospects of
man. The words of Job beautifully express the anxiety of the
mind on the subject. " If a man die, shall he live again? There
is hope of a tree if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that
the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof
wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet,
through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like
a plant: but man dieth, and is cut off; man giveth up the ghost,
and where is he? As the waters fail from the sea; as the flood
decayeth and drieth up; so man lieth down, and riseth not; till the




THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH.    297
heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their
sleep." But what a dreadful prospect does annihilation present to
the mind I To be an outcast from existence; to be blotted out from
the book of life; to mingle with the dust, and be scattered over the
earth, as if the breath of life had never animated our frame! Man
can not support the thought. Is the light which shone brighter
than all the stars of heaven set in darkness, to rise no more? Are
all the hopes of man come to this, to be taken into the councils of
the Almighty; to be admitted to behold part of that plan of Providence which governs the world, and when his eyes are just opened
to read the book, to be shut forever? If such were to be our state,
we would be of all creatures the most miserable. The world appears a chaos without form, and void of order. From the throne
of nature, God departs, and there appears a cruel and capricious
Deing, who delights in death, and makes sport of human misery.
From this state of doubts and fears, we are delivered by the
Gospel of Jesus. The message which He brought, was life and immortality. From the Star of Jacob, light shone even upon the
shades of death. As a proof of immortality, He called back the departed spirit from the world unknown; as an earnest of the resurrection to a future life, He Himself arose from the dead. When we
contemplate the tomb of nature, we cry out, " Can these dry bones
live?"  When we contemplate the tomb of Jesus, we say, "Yes,
they can live!" As He arose, we shall in like manner arise. In
the tomb of nature, you see man return to the dust from whence
he was taken; in the tomb of Jesus you see man restored to life
again. In the tomb of nature you see the shades of death fall on
the weary traveler, and the darkness of the long night close over
his head; in the tomb of Jesus, you see light arise upon the shades
of death, and the morning dawn upon the long night of the grave.
On the tomb of nature, it is written, "Behold thy end, 0 man!
Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return. Thou, who now
callest thyself the son of heaven, shall become one of the clods of
the valley;" on the tomb of Christ is written, " Thou diest, O man,
but to live again. When dust returns to dust, the spirit shall return
to God who gave it. I am the resurrection and the life; he that
believeth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."  From the
tomb of nature, you hear a voice, "Forever silent is the land of forgetfulnessI From the slumbers of the grave shall we awake no
more! Like the flowers of the field, shall we be as though we had
never been!" from the tomb of Jesus, you hear, "Blessed are the
dead tha' die in the Lord, thus saith the Spirit, for they rest from




298                   JOHN LOGAN.
their labors, and pass into glory. In my Father's house, there are
many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to
prepare a place for you, and if I go away, I will come again, and
take you unto Myself, that where I am, there ye may be also."
Will not this assurance of a happy immortality and a blessed
resurrection, in a great measure remove the terror and the sting of
death? May we not walk without dismay through the dark valley,
when we are conducted by a beam from heaven? May we not endure the tossings of one stormy night, when it carries us to the shore
that we long for?  What cause have we to dread the messenger
who brings us to our Father's house? Should not our fears about
futurity abate, when we hear God addressing us with respect
to death, as He did the patriarch of old, upon going to Egypt,
"Fear not to go down to the grave; I will go down with thee, and
will bring thee up again?"
Secondly, Our victory over death consists in our being delivered
from the apprehensions of wrath and forebodings of punishment.
which arise in the mind from the consciousness of sin.
That there is a God who governs the world, the patron of
righteousness and the avenger of sin, is so manifest from the light
of nature, that the belief of it has obtained among all nations. That
it shall be well with the righteous, and ill with the wicked; that God
will reward those who will diligently seek Him, and punish those
who transgress His laws, is the principle upon which all religion is
founded. But whether mercy be an attribute in the Divine nature
to such an extent that God may be rendered propitious to those who
rebel against His authority and disobey His commandments, is an
inquiry to which no satisfactory answer can be made. Many of the
Divine attributes are conspicuous from the works of creation; the
power, the wisdom, and the goodness of God, appear in creating the
world; in superintending that world which He has made; in diffusing life wide over the system of things, and providing the means
of happiness to all His creatures. But from no appearances in nature
does it clearly follow, that the exercise of mercy to offenders is part
of the plan by which the universe is governed. For any thing that
we know from the light of nature, repentance alone may not be sufficient to procure the remission of sins; the tears of contrition may be
unavailable to wash away the stains of a guilty life, and the Divine
favor may be implored in vain by those who have become obnoxious
to the Divine displeasure. If in the calm and serene hour of
inquiry, man could find no consolation in such thoughts, how would
he be overwhelmed with horror, when his mind was disordered with




THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH.   299
a sense of guilt? When remembrance brought his former life to
view, when reflection pierced him to the heart, darkness would
spread itself over his mind, Deity would appear an object of terror,
and the spirit, wounded by remorse, would discern nothing but an
offended Judge armed with thunders to punish the guilty. If, in the
day of health and prosperity, these reflections were so powerful to
embitter life, they would be a source of agony and despair wher
the last hour approached. When life flows according to our wishes,
we may endeavor to conceal our sins, and shut our ears against the
voice of conscience. But these artifices will avail little at the hour
of death. Then things appear in their true colors. Then conscience
tells the truth, and the mask is taken off from the man, when our
sins at that hour pass before us in review. Guilty and polluted as
we are, covered with confusion, how shall we appear at the judgmentseat of God, and answer at the bar of eternal justice? How shall
dust and ashes stand in the presence of that uncreated glory, before
which principalities and powers bow down, tremble, and adore?
How shall guilty and self-condemned creatures appear before Him,
in whose sight the heavens are not clean, and who chargeth His angels with folly? This is the sting of death. It is guilt that
sharpens the spear of the King of Terrors. But even in this
view we have victory over death, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
By His death upon the Cross, an atonement was made for the sins
of men. The wrath of God was averted from the world. A great
plan of reconciliation is now unfolded in the Gospel. Under the
banner of the cross, pardon is proclaimed to returning penitents.
They who accept the offers of mercy, and who fly for refuge to the
hope set before them, are taken into favor; their sins are forgiven,
and their names are written in the book of life. Over them death
has no power. The king of terrors is transformed into an angel of
peace, to waft them to their native country, where they long to be.
This, 0 Christian I the death of thy Redeemer, is thy strong consolation; thy effectual remedy against the fear of death. What evil
can come nigh to him for whom Jesus died? Does the law which
thou hast broken, denounce vengeance against thee? Behold that
law fulfilled in the meritorious life of thy Redeemer. Does the sentence of wrath pronounced against the posterity of Adam sound in
thine ears? Behold that sentence blotted out, that handwriting, as
the apostle calls it, cancelled, nailed to thy Saviour's cross, and left
there as a trophy of His victory. Art thou afraid that the cry of thy
offenses may rise to heaven, and reach the ears of justice?  There
is no place for it there; in room of it ascends the voice of that




800                   JOHN LOGAN.
blood which speaketh better things than the blood of Abel. Does
the enemy of mankind accuse thee at the judgment-seat? He is put
to silence by thy Advocate and Intercessor at the right hand of thy
Father. Does death appear to thee in a form of terror, and hold out
his sting to alarm thy mind? His terror is removed, and his stiig
was pulled out by that hand, which, on Mount Calvary, was fixed to
the accursed tree. Art thou afraid that the arrows of Divine wrath
which smite the guilty, may be aimed at thy head? Before they
can touch thee, they must pierce that body, which, in the symbols
of Divine institution, was this day held forth crucified among you,
and which at the right hand of the Majesty in the heavens, is forever presented in behalf of the redeemed. Well then may ye join
in the triumphant song of the apostle, " 0 death, where is thy sting?
O grave, where is thy victory?"
In the third place, Jesus Christ gives us victory over death, by
yielding us consolation and relief under the fears that arise in the
mind upon the awful transition from this world to the next.
Who ever left the precincts of mortality without casting a wish
ful look on what he left behind, and a trembling eye on the scene
that is before him? Being formed by our Creator for enjoyments
even in this life, we are endowed with a sensibility to the objects
around us. We have affections, and we delight to indulge them:
we have hearts, and we want to bestow them. Bad as the world is,
we find in it objects of affection and attachment. Even in this
waste and howling wilderness, there are spots of verdure and
of beauty, of power to charm the mind and make us cry out, " It is
good for us to be here." When, after the observation and experience of years, we have found out the objects of the soul, and met
with minds congenial to our own, what pangs must it give to the
neart to think of parting forever? We even contract an attachment
to inanimate objects. The tree under whose shadow we have often
sat; the fields where we have frequently strayed; the hill, the scene
of contemplation, or the haunt of friendship, become objects of passion to the mind, and upon our leaving them, excite a temporary
sorrow and regret. If these things can affect us with uneasiness,
how great must be the affliction, when stretched on that bed from
which we shall rise no more, and looking about for the last time on
the sad circle of our weeping friendsl How great must be the
affliction, to dissolve at once all the attachments of life; to bid an
eternal adieu to the friends whom we long have loved, and to part
forever with all that is dear below the sun I But let not the Christian be disconsolate. He parts with tie )bjects of his affection, to




THE CHRISTIAN'S VICTORY OVER DEATH.   301
meet them again; to meet them in a better world, where change
never enters, and from whose blissful mansions sorrow flies away. At
the resurrection of the just; in the great assembly of the sons of God,
when all the family of heaven are gathered together, not one person
shall be missing that was worthy of thy affection or esteem. And if
among imperfect creatures, and in a troubled world, the kind, the
tender, and the generous affections have such power to charm the
heart, that even the tears which they occasion delight us, what joy
unspeakable and glorious will they produce, when they exist in perfect minds, and are improved by the purity of the heavens!
Christianity also gives us consolation in the transition from this
world to the next. Every change in life awakens anxiety; whatever is unknown, is the object of fear; no wonder then that it is awful
and alarming to nature, to think of that time when the hour of our
departure is at hand; when this animal frame shall be dissolved, and
the mysterious bond between soul and body shall be broken. Even
the visible effects of mortality are not without terror; to have no
more a name among the living; to pass into the dominions of the
dead; to have the worm for a companion, and a sister, are events
at which nature shudders and starts back. But more awful still is
the invisible scene, when the curtain between both worlds shall be
drawn back, and the soul naked and disembodied appear in the
presence of its Creator. Even under these thoughts, the comforts
of Christianity may delight thy soul. Jesus, thy Saviour, has the
keys of death; the abodes of the dead are part of His kingdom.
He lay in the grave, and hallowed it for the repose of the just. Be.
fore our Lord ascended up on high, He said to His disciples, " I go
to My Father and to your Father, to My God and to your God;"
and when the time of your departure is at hand, you go to your
Father and His Father, to your God and His God.
Enlightened by these discoveries, trusting to the merits of his
Redeemer, and animated with the hope which is set before him,
the Christian will depart with tranquillity and joy. To him the bed
of death will not be a scene of terror, nor the last hour an hour of
despair. There is a majesty in the death of the Christian. He par.
takes of the spirit of that world to which he is advancing, and he
meets his latter end w:th a face that looks to the heavens.




DISCOURSE SIXTY.SECOND
THOMAS M'CRIE, D.D.
THERE are few individuals to whose honorable exertions, especially in
his beloved country, the cause of religion and of literature is more indebted than to Dr. M'Crie. Born at Dunse, in Berwickshire, November,
1772, educated in a thorough manner at the University of Edinburg,
and at Divinity Hall, he was licensed to preach September 9th, 1795, and
in the year following was ordained over the church of Potterrow, Edinburg. His excellent Life of John Knox, published in 1811, caused him to
be widely and honorably known; a reputation increased by several other
publications. During the years 1817 and 1818, in addition to other duties, he acted as Theological Professor to the religious society with which
he was connected, the labors of which he resumed in 1834. He was pre.
paring a life of Calvin, when, in the year 1835, August 4th, his valuable
labors were arrested by an attack of apoplexy. He died on the following
day, in his sixty-third year.
Whether estimated by his piety, his talents, or his learning, Dr.
M'Crie was one of the brightest ornaments of the Scottish Secession
Church. The publications which he has left to the world are numerous,
and of great value. His life of Knox is alone a sufficient monument to
his genius and Christian worth. A volume of his "Sermons, Lectures, etc.,"
was published several years ago, which ought to be given to the American public. No one can peruse the following admirable sermon without
coveting the privilege of possessing more of the productions of the same
eloquent pen. The very great length of the discourse renders it necessary to omit a fiw less important paragraphs, chiefly introductory and
narrative in their character.
THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS.
" Lord, remember me when Thou comest into Thy kingdom."-LUKE, xxiii. 42.
Who can tell what these words convey? None but He to whom,
they were addressed; who saw into the bottom of the speaker's




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS.  303
heart, approved of his confession, and answered his petition exceedingly above what he could ask or think; when He replied,
" Verily I say unto thee, To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise?"
It was not a time, my brethren, for many words: but oh, how much
is expressed by these two short sentences, spoken from such hearts,
and in such circumstances! What a colloquy was this I what a
communion! what a respite from torture! what a foretaste of Paradise! what a feast on a cross between earth and heaven! There was
no opportunity for salutation or embracing, or the exchanging of the
symbolical cup. But what an exchange of tender looks! What a
conjunction of hearts! what an intimate friendship on so short an
acquaintance I what a joyful farewell before so awful a parting!
Think you, my brethren, that either of the twain felt at this moment the nails with which they were transfixed to the tree?  The
soul of the penitent thief was filled with a joy unutterable, which
must have swallowed up all sense of pain. He rejoiced in the death
by which he now glorified God. He gloried on the cross, and " in
the cross."  True, he was crucified; but then he was " crucified with
Christ," and that in another sense than his unhappy companion was,
or than any of the spectators of the scene knew or apprehended.
This was to him matter of ineffable gloriation. " Blessed day on
which I was overtaken and seized by the pursuviants of justice!
Blessed sentence which brought me into the company and acquaintance of the Saviour of sinners, of the chief of sinners, and advanced
me to the high, the distinguished honor of suffering along with Him."
At that moment, too, Jesus rejoiced in spirit. He saw of the travail
of his soul, and was satisfied. He felt that He was a conqueror. He
had already begun to divide the spoil ravished from principalities
and powers, which He made a show of openly triumphing over them
on this cross. In the conquest which He had just achieved, He beheld an earnest of His subsequent triumphs over the god of this
world, and, exhilarated with the prospect, He "endured the cross,
despising the shame."
The address of the believing, penitent malefactor, was, at the same
time, a prayer, a confession of faith, and a sermon. But no such
prayer had been offered up since " men began to call on the name of
the Lord;" no such confession of faith was ever made by council or
assembly of divines; no such sermon was ever delivered by the most
powerful and eloquent preacher. And then the Saviour's reply!
Many a compassionate, benignant, and seasonable answer had He
vouchsafed to those who invoked Him, and who professed their faith
in Him, but none of item equaled this. Pleased with the confession




304                 THOMAS M'CRIE.
of Nathanael, He said to him, " Thou shalt see the heaven opnm, and
the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man." To
Peter He had said, " Blessed art thou, Simon Barjona, for flesh and
blood hath not revealed this unto thee, but My Father who is in
heaven." To the Syrophenician, "0  woman, great is thy faith; be
it unto thee even as thou wilt." To the Roman centurion, " I have
not found such faith: no, not in Israel." And to His disciples,
"Henceforth I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until I drink it
new with you in the kingdom of God." But to none of these did He
say as unto this poor, converted, crucified thief, " To-day shalt thou
be with me in Paradise."
He had made many converts during His personal ministry, when
He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. But of this
man He had made a convert on the cross, in the midst of great agony
of body and soul, and therefore He rejoiced in him above all His
followers. He was His Benoni, the son of His sorrow, and therefore
He made him His Benjamin, the son of His right hand.
But let us examine more coolly and attentively this singular address of the convict on the cross. Let us consider, in the first place,
who he was, and the circumstances in which he was placed; secondly, the situation in which Jesus was when he addressed Him; thirdly, the profession of faith which it contains; and fourthly, the prayer
which it expressed.
I. Consider the person who made the address, and the circumstances
in which he was placed. He was a thief and a robber-one who, by
his own confession, merited the ignominious death which he was
suffering. Abandoning the path of honest industry, he had betaken
himself to the highway, and procured his livelihood by preying on
the property and life of the peaceable. When we consider the character of Barabbas, whom they preferred to Jesus, and the design for
which His fellow-sufferers were selected, we may be sure that they
were criminals of the worst sort, whose practices had excited general
hatred and terror.
We all know what the characters of those who have devoted
themselves to this mode of living are-how reckless of life, how destitute of principle-how enslaved to every base and malignant passion-how dead to all the feelings of honor, reputation, compassion,
or compunction-how insensible to theremonstrances of conscience, or
the lessons of experience-how regardless of God or man-how disposed
to mock at every thing that is sacred, at death, judgment, and eternity; you can not point to a class of men from whom you could select
an individual less likely to be affected by the scene of the crucifixion,




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS.  305
or to sympathize with the meek, and patient, and forgiving Jesus.
The conduct of the thief who reviled Him, and the words which he
is represented as having used, are just what we would have expected
from such a person in such circumstances. Matthew and Mark, in
their account of the crucifixion, say, " The thieves, also, who were
crucified with Him, reviled Him," and " cast the same in His teeth,"
from which we might conclude that both acted in the same manner
when first affixed to the cross, but that one of them underwent a
sudden change in his sentiments, which produced a complete alteration on his language, and led him to justify and pray to the Saviour
whom he had a little before reviled and outraged.
This is no impossible thing. Transformations as wonderful and
as sudden have been effected. Saul of Tarsus was arrested in the
midst of his mad career, and he who was " breathing out threatenings" against all who called on the name of Jesus of Nazareth, was
found the next moment invoking that name of which he had been " a
blasphemer," and with the most humble and implicit submission
praying, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" The jailor of
Philippi is another example. Having found the prison doors open,
and supposing that Paull and Silas had escaped, he was in the very
act of sheathing his drawn sword in his own bowels, when on a sudden, on the speaking of a few words, the weapon of destruction
dropped from his hands, and the bold and determined suicide hung
trembling on the knees of his prisoners, and under a deep concern
about the safety, not of his body, but his soul, cried out, " Sirs, what
must I do to be saved?"
The same power which was so visibly exerted in these instances,
oCould have easily purified the fountain of ungodliness in this man's
heart at the very moment that the words of bitter derision were flowing from his tongue, and made them to be followed by the sweet and
salutary streams of blessing and prayer, streaming from a smitten, softened, opened, and sanctified soul. But as the Evangelist Luke gives
the most circumstantial narrative of the extraordinary incident, it is
more natural to consider his detail as qualifying and explaining the
general statement of his brethren; and he represents only one of the
malefactors as reviling Jesus, and the other as vindicating Him.
Nor is it uncommon in Scripture to affirm that of a number of
persons or things of the same kind which is true of one of them
only. Thus we are told that the ark rested on the mountains of
" Ararat" that is on one of them; that Lot "dwelt in the cities of
the plain," that is.in one of them; that "the soldiers ran and filled
a sponge with vinegar," that is one of them did so. In like manner
20




306                 THOMAS M'CRTE.
we are told, "the thieves railed on Him," that is one of them did it
Although, however, the person mentioned in our text did not join
in the blasphemies of his comrade, we have every reason for think.
ing that the cross was the place of his conversion; and that he came
to it with no more knowledge of Jesus, and no more love to Him
than his fellow had. But while he was suspended on the cross his
heart was changed —he was convinced of sin, enlightened in the
knowledge of the Saviour, who was crucified along with him, humbled, sanctified, and made a new man. That the influence by which
this was brought about was divine, there can not be a moment's
doubt. The only question is —as the Spirit of God does not ordinarily produce this change on the minds of adults without the intervention and use of external means-by what instrumentality was
this man converted, and how did he attain that knowledge of the
truth concerning Christ which he displayed in his address to Him?
When Jesus began to teach in the synagogue of His native place
His townsmen were astonished, and exclaimed, "Whence hath this
man this wisdom? Is not this the carpenter's son? Whence then
hath He all these things?" There is reason for putting the same
question as to this thief, and under a similar feeling of astonishment.
Like others who have followed his unlawful trade, we have every
reason to think he was brought up in ignorance and profaneness, and
that he was as destitute of religious knowledge as he was of moral
honesty. He was too much occupied with his trade to attend on the
sermons or witness the miracles of Jesus; and his exclusion from all
sober and decent society, must have prevented him from hearing of
them by the report of others.
By what means then did he acquire the knowledge of Him? In
his prison he might hear of His arraignment and sentence; and after
he knew that He was to be crucified along with him, curiosity would
induce him to inquire into the cause of His condemnation. This
might perhaps satisfy him that Jesus was no evil-doer-that He had
been guilty of no murder, or theft, or sedition, and that the envy of
the ohief priests had delivered Him up to Pilate; and it is probable
that his companion also knew all this, and had the same conviction
in his breast, although he railed on Him as an impostor. But it was
at Golgotha, and when hanging on the accursed tree that he acquired
that knowledge which issued in his conversion. And what were the
means of his instruction? None that I can discover or tell you of,
my brethren, but what he was able to glean from the speeches of
those who were below, from the few words which Jesus had spoken,
and from the inscription on His cross.




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON TIH' CROSS.  307
The.first he had heard say, " He saved others;" and who can tell
what light this saying might let into an understanding opened by
the Spirit of God? He had also heard them speak of Him, although
with incredulity, as " the Christ, the King of Israel, the Son of God,
who trusted in God that He would deliver Him." He had heard
the remarkable and heart-melting prayer which Jesus offered up for
His murderers, when they were in the act of nailing Him to the tree,
" Father forgive them; for they know not what they do;" and he
had a practical commentary on them in the meekness and patience
with which he " endured the cross, despising the shame." And he
had an opportunity of reading the inscription which was written
over His head in legible characters, in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin,
"This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews."
This, my brethren, was at once the text and the sermon by which
the thief was converted: and accordingly the language of his
address and prayer is borrowed from it. He believed that He was
"Jesus" a Saviour. He believed that He was a "King;" and he
believed that His cross was the way to His crown, for it witnessed
of it, and it pointed to it. And believing this, and encouraged by
it to put his trust in Him, he said, " Lord, remember me when Thou
comest into Thy kingdom."  Think it not strange-at least think it
not incredible-that the words of scorn and derision spoken by an
infatuated, infuriated mob, should be made the means of so much
good to this man's soul. They were truth, saving truth, and oontained the substance of the Gospel, and of what Jesus had taught
concerning Himself.
Think it not incredible that the inscription devised by an unbe.
lieving and unjust judge, should have been the means of delivering
a criminal, whom he had condemned to an excruciating death, from
a doom still more awful. It contained the very truth which the
person to whom it referred had testified when He stood at the bar
of Pilate, and it was devised and written at the secret instigation of
Him whose " determinate counsel" the Roman Governor executed in
this as well as in other parts of this divinely ordered transaction.
Many an excellent, savory, and saving sermon has been preached
from the insidious saying of the arch-priest Caiaphas, "It is expedient that one man should die for the people, and that the whole
whole nation perish not." And why, in that year, and on that day,
which was big with the eternal destinies of a world, to which all the
prophets and holy men from the beginning had looked forward, and
all holy men to the end shall look back, why at such a time should
not a pagan magistrate have been made to prophesy as well as a




308                 THOMAS M'CRIE.
Jewish priest?  And why should not his prophecy ha.re been the
means of enlightening the mind of a robber and qualifying him for
confessing the dying Redeemer of sinners, both Jewish and Gentile?
But, my brethren, we are to remember that it is one thing for
us to perceive the meaning of this inscription, possessing as we do,
the whole New Testament, yea, the whole Bible, as a commentary
on it, and having leisure to compare the commentary with the text;
and that it was quite another thing for the thief without any such
helps, to decipher its language and extricate its sense: and that,
too, while he hung on the cross in a state of exquisite bodily pain.
That he should have been able to do this, and by what process of
thought he came to the conclusion which he drew, will continue
always to be matter of wonder-a monument of the inscrutable
wisdom and amazing grace of Him who works by whatever means
it pleaseth Him to employ.
IL Consider the situation in which Jesus was placed when this man
addressed Him in the words of the text. During His personal ministry,
the rays of His glory often pierced the vail of His outward humiliation, so that those that saw its manifestations had all their doubts
dissipated, and were assured that He came from God, and was the
only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth. But this man
became acquainted with Him, and beheld Him not at Jordan where
heaven pronounced Him its Son; or, at Cana of Galilee, where He
manifested forth His glory; or by the lake of Tiberias, where He
fed the multitude: or in Bethany, where He raised Lazarus: or in
Tabor, where He was transfigured: but he beheld Him for the first
time at Golgotha, where, instead of speaking as never man spake,
He was dumb as a sheep before her shearers, and instead of doing
mighty works, was crucified through weakness. At this time His
glory was not merely under a cloud; it was in an eclipse, and
seemed to have set never to reappear. It was the hour and power
of darkness.
Formerly He had been followed by multitudes, who crowded to
Him and thronged Him, and when He withdrew they followed Him
and sought Him out with great eagerness-the whole world was
gone out after Him, and they talked of making Him a king, so that
the chief priests became alarmed, and His disciples, seeing matters
in so prosperous-like a train, thought it high time to look out for
themselves, and to secure the most honorable places in that kingdom which He was about to erect. But this flattering prospect had
evanished. The multitude which followed Him for a time had
mrlted away gradually, until He was left alone with the twelve;




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS.   30h
and at last He was forsaken by them also. One of them betrayed
Him, another abjured Him, and all the rest fled and were scattered;
and their unfaithful and cowardly desertion had affixed a stigma on
His pretensions, which all the malice and misrepresentation of His
open adversaries had not been able to inflict.
When He was arraigned before the high priest, hopes of His
afety still remained: for the Romans retained the power of life and
death in their own hands, and Pilate was not only disposed to let
Him go, but labored to accomplish His release. Even after He was
condemned to die, the case did not appear desperate: for those who
had witnessed His miracles, and seen the band sent to apprehend
Him struck to the ground, merely by His saying to them, "I am
He" might flatter themselves that His enemies would be unable to
carry their sentence into execution. This last hope had proved fallacious.  He had suffered Himself to be led as a lamb to the
slaughter. He was now affixed to the tree and was fast bleeding to
death. There He hung between two notorious malefactors, disowned by all His former friends, insulted over by His enemies,
heaven shut against His prayer, hell gaping for Him as its prey. It
was in these circumstances, when the cause of Jesus was in the
most desperate-like condition, that this man, openly and for the first
time, professed his faith in Him.
III. Consider the import of the profession contained in His address.
Had he merely professed his belief that Jesus was an innocent man
-that He had done nothing amiss or worthy of death, it would
have been a great deal. Had he avowed that he thought Him no
impostor, but a true prophet, this would have been more than could
have been expected, considering the circumstances in which both
were placed. How hesitatingly and suspiciously did the two disciples, on the road to Emmaus, express themselves on this subject:"We trusted that it had been He that should have redeemed
Israel."
But this man went far beyond this point in his profession. He
addressed Him as "Lord."  The chief priests and rulers of the Jews
spoke of Him in the most contemptuous style-" this fellow" and
"that deceiver." When Peter was challenged as one of His disciples, he said that he knew not "the man."  The highest epithet that
the disciples could give Him after they had received a report of His
resurrection, was, "Jesus of Nazareth, a prophet mighty in word
and deed." The thief addresses Him now, by that title which the
apostles gave Him, after He had shown Himself to them by infallible proofs. They could say "the Lord is risen:" but they could




310                 THOMAS M'CRIE
not, like this thief, call Him Lord, when He hung on the cross. N,r
was this a mere title of respect. The cross was no place for complimentary or ceremonious language. In such circumstances he would
not have owned Him at all if he had not been persuaded that He
was the Lord of all, of life and death, of heaven and hell. And as
he addressed Him as Lord, so he avowed his conviction that He was
going to take possession of a kingdom.
Wonderful faith I A dying man, a worm and no man, reproach
of men and despised of the people, the lowest of the people, he
addresses as Lord, and worships Him! One whom he had seen
arrayed in derision with the mock ensigns of royalty, and then
stripped of them and led away to be crucified, whom he had heard
taunted with His kingly claims, and in vain desired to come down
from the cross to give a proof of their validity, he, nevertheless,
saluted, in deep earnest, as a king; and while God had set up the
right hand of His adversaries, made all His enemies to rejoice,
shortened the days of His youth, covered Him with shame, and
profaned His crown by casting it to the ground, he, strong in faith,
staggered not, but, against hope, believed in hope, and avowed his
confident assurance that He was about to ascend the throne of His
kingdom I
Verily, such faith as this had not been evinced from the days of
the Father of the faithful. And then how superior do his conceptions of the nature of Christ's kingdom appear to have been I The
Jews of that time had very gross and carnal notions of the reign of
Messiah. They imagined that He would appear as a temporal and
earthly monarch. emancipate them from the thralldom of a foreign
yoke, and make the nations tributary to them. The disciples of
Jesus had imbibed some of these prejudices, to which they clung
pertinaciously, in spite of all the instructions of their Master; nor
were they altogether weaned from this erroneous and fond conceit
by His crucifixion, as appears from the question which they put to
Him after He was risen: "Lord, wilt Thou at this time restore the
kingdom to Israel?"
How superior were the views which the converted thief acquired on this subject in a short time, to those of the disciples after
they had for years listened to the spiritual doctrine, and contemplated the heavenly character of their Master I The prospect of His
death was repugnant to all their ideas, and destructive of all their
expectations of His kingly glory: and when they saw Him led
away to be crucified, their hopes died away within them. He owned
Him to be a king in the lowest step of His abasement, and believed




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE OLOSS.  31
that His cross was the pedestal by which He would mount to His
throne in the highest heavens.
IV. -Let us, in fine, consider this address as a prayer. It was said
of Saul- of Tarsus, after his conversion, and as one mark of that
change which he had undergone, " Behold he prayeth I" He had
never prayed aright before that period, though, as a strict Pharisee,
he had no doubt often practiced the external form. But this was
probably the first time that ever the thief had engaged in the exercise; the first time in his life that he had offered to God the sacrifice
of the lips; prayer is not an employment reconcilable with the trade
which he had followed. It is necessary for such persons to banish
the fear, and consequently to exclude the thought of God. If that
sacred name had come into his mouth it would be in the form of
hellish oaths or blasphemies. But now, behold he prayeth I and
that in deep earnest. He prayed to Jesus, whom his fellow-criminal
was blaspheming, invoked Him as Lord, and begged of Him the
greatest favor which, as a dying man, he could ask.
Criminals have often been seen praying on a scaffold, and they
have earnestly begged for a pardon, or a respite, or some other boon
from their judges: but this is the only instance in which a criminal
was found supplicating and praying to his fellow-sufferer. And
what was the petition which he presented? It was not for deliverance from death or for any temporal. blessing. He did not even seriously prefer the request of his comrade, " Save Thyself and us."
He was perfectly resigned to his fate. He was willing to endure the
punishment due to his crime by the laws of God and man, and to
expiate, by his own death, the offense which he had done to society,
while he who hung beside him expiated the sin which he had committed against heaven. Lord! I have no desire to live. It is good
for me to be here. It is better for me to die with Thee than to reign
with Coesar. All my desire is to be with Thee where Thou art
going; and O remember Thy unworthy fellow-sufferer when thou
art come into Thy kingdom!
What unfeigned and contrite humility does this petition breathe I
He prays as became one who felt, and had confessed himself to be a
great sinner, and who could have no possible claims but what were
founded on the mere and unbought benignity of Him whom he addressed. When the two sons of Zebedee requested to be permitted
to sit, the one at the right and the other at the left hand of their
Master in His kingdom, He asked them, " Can ye drink of the cup
that I drink of? or can ve be baptized with the baptism with which
I am baptized?"  Here was one who was drinking of his bittey




312                 THOMAS M'CRTE.
cup, and baptized with His bloody baptism; but he had no such
ambitious wish, and presumed to present no such arrogant request.
His heart was not haughty: his eyes were not lofty: neither did he
aspire to great things. A genuine convert, his heart was like that
of a weaned child. All that he ventured to ask was, that Jesus
would remember him when He came into His kingdom. But
though presented with the profoundest humility, and expressive of
the greatest submission, still this was a great request.
O how much, my brethren, is included in these two words, addressed by a convinced sinner to the Saviour, "remember me/"
The eternal salvation of a sinner hangs upon them. If He remembers him, all is well; if He forgets him, woe unto him, for it shall be
ill with him. Had not Christ remembered and thought upon us in
our low estate, and undertaken our cause, we would have been hopeless. Had He not remembered His people, and borne their names
on His breastplate, when He approached God as the Great High
Priest to make reconciliation for iniquity, their guilt would have remained. Did He not remember them, when they are lying polluted in their blood, and say to them, " Live I" they would die in
their sins. Did He not continue to remember them, and pray for
them, and help them by His Spirit, he that desires to have them for
his prey would gain his object, and they would never see the kingdom of heaven. Had the penitent thief dropped out of the memory
of Christ, he would have dropped into hell at death, along with his
blaspheming companion: for, "Nor thieves nor revilers shall inherit
the kingdom of God." How could he, an ignorant, lawless, Goddespising, heaven-daring profligate, presume to lift up his eyes, or to
apply at the gates of paradise, unless he had ground to believe that
his gracious and merciful fellow-sufferer would remember him?
But if he continued to think of Him and own Him, what might he
not expect?
In fine, this prayer was offered believingl)y, as well as fervently.
He believed that Jesus had the highest interest with the Father, who
would not refuse any thing which should be craved by Him, who
had laid down His life at His command; that He was about to be
put in possession of all power in heaven and earth; and that this
included authority to bestow its honors and rewards on whomsoever
He would. And he believed that such was the grace, condescension
and compassion of the dying Redeemer, that He would not reject
the application of a poor, convicted, condemned criminal, but wash
him from his sins in His blood, and sanctify him by the power of
Hais Spirit, and present him faultless before the throne of His glory




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS.  313
with exceeding joy. Nor did he believe in vain, nor was the answer
of his prayer long delayed or dubiously expressed; for Jesus instantly said to him, "Verily, I say unto thee, to-day shalt thou be
with Me in paradise."
In reviewing this wonderful scene, a variety of reflections, all
conducive to practical improvement, crowd upon the mind. Let us
dwell a little on a few of them.
First. We have here an indisputable instance of real conversion.
Examples of this change have occurred in every age, as to the genuineness of which we have no reasonable ground to doubt. But the
case of the penitent thief is accompanied with evidence the most irresistible and convincing. Who can doubt that on the cross a sinner was converted from the evil of his ways, a soul saved from death,
and a multitude of sins hid? When the Lord writeth up the people
whom He hath formed for Himself, He will count that this man was
born again on Calvary. While I run over the credible marks of a
saving change which he exhibited, let it be your employment, my
brethren, to examine and see whether they are to be found in you also.
He confessed himself to be a sinner and worthy of death, when
no creature exacted this confession, and when it could be of no
earthly advantage to him. His heart was penetrated with a reverential fear of God, which made him not only refrain from offending
Him himself, but shudder at hearing what was offensive to Him from
the lips of another. He entertained just, and high, and honorable
views of the Saviour.  He looked to Him on the cross, and placed
all his hopes of salvation on His merciful remembrance of him.
He prayed to Him, and committed his soul to Him as the Lord
of the invisible world. He gave every evidence which was in his
power of the truth of his faith, repentance, and love. His hands
and feet were immovably fixed to the tree. Nothing was left free
to him but his heart and his tongue, and these he dedicated wholly
to God, and employed to the honor of Christ. His conduct corresponded to the inspired criterion, and verified it: "With the heart
man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession
is made unto salvation."
He not only deplored his own, but he also faithfully, yet meekly,
reproved the sin of his companion, and of the multitude which surrounded him, and used all the means which were in his power to
arrest their ungodly career, and to bring them to repentance. He
was clothed with humility. His affections were set on things above,
and not on things on the earth. His conversation was in heaven.
No corrupt communication proceeded from his mouth, but that which




314                 THOMAS M'CRIE.
was good to the use of edifying. All bitterness, and wrath, and
anger, and clamor, and evil-speaking hle put away from him with
all malice; he was kind, tender-hearted, forgiving; and was not this
a proof that God, for Christ's sake, had forgiven him?
Who imagines that if this man had been let down from the cross
he would have returned to his old companions and his old practices?
-who doubts that he that stole would have stolen no more, but have
wrought with his hands that he might give to him that needeth; that
he would have been a bright and living example of renovation; that
he would have joined himself to the apostles, and continued steadfastly in their doctrine and fellowship, and in breaking of bread, and
in prayer? Would to God that all that hear me this day were both
almost and altogether such as this malefactor was, except the nails
by which he was affixed to the tree I
Secbndly. We have here a distinguished proof of the power of
Divine grace. Speaking of what he had been, and contrasting it
with what he had become, Paul exclaims, "The grace of our Lord
Jesus Christ was exceeding abundant I" We can not think of the
conversion of this man without making the same reflection. He had
been a great sinner, an ignorant, profane, ungodly, lawless, hardened
ruffian.
But O! how changed from what he was! so much so that his
former associates, who had known him most intimately, could not
now know him to be the same person. He is, indeed, become a new
man, a new creature: " Old things are passed away, behold all things
are become new." The lion, who had gone about seeking whom he
might devour, is changed into the lamb; the blasphemer into a
preacher of righteousness; the robber into a reprover of vice. And
how sudden the transformation! He came to the cross with all the
evil passions rankling in his breast, and he had scarcely been affixed
to it, when their poison was plucked out, and they gave place to
mildness, gentleness, and compassion for the sufferings of others.
He came to it with his mouth filled with cursing and bitterness,
and when upon it, we find him employed only in praying and
exhorting. He was lifted up on the cross polluted with the blood
of others, he was taken down from it washed from his sins in the
blood of Christ. H1 was suspended as a malefactor, and he died as a
martyr.
What can withstand or resist the power of the grace which pro.
duced such a change as this? What is too hard, what can be diffi.
cult for it? It can pardon the greatest sins, subdue the strongest
corruptions, eradicate the most deep-rooted prejudices, cure the most




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE CROSS.  315
inveterate habits; in a word, change the most desperately wikked
heart.
Thirdly. Contemplate in this scene an instance of late conversion.
It was the last hour with this malefactor. His days were numbered,
and the last of them had dawned on him in as hopeless a condition
as ever-with all his sins upon him, unrepented of and unpardoned,
without the smallest preparation for appearing before his righteou
and impartial judge. He was brought out of his cell, he was led
away to be crucified, he was lifted upon the cross, he hung over the
yawning pit which was ready to receive him, when the Saviour, who
was at his right hand, had compassion on him, apprehended him by
His grace, and plucked him as a brand from the fire. Miraculous
escape I Wonderful intervention I Ineffable expression of the patience and mercy of Him who is God and not man! In one and the
same day this man was in the gall of bitterness, and in the delights
of paradise; associated with felons, and admitted into the society of
angels; in concord with Belial, and in fellowship with Christ.
This singular fact is recorded in Scripture; and we know that
whatever was written aforetime, was written for our learning. It
teaches us by example what our Saviour taught by parable, that
persons may be called into God's vineyard at the last hour, and that
He will bestow upon them the gift of eternal life through Jesus
Christ, as well as upon those who have borne the burden and heat
of the day. And shall their eye be evil because He is good? Or
shall we be ashamed or afraid to produce this example, and to point
to the encouragement which it holds out because some will speak
evil of the good ways of God, or others will abuse His tender mercy
to their own perdition? No I while there is life there is hope —
while sinners are on God's footstool they may look up to the throne
of His grace. He waits to be gracious, His long-suffering is salva.
tion. This message we are warranted to carry into the cell of the
convict-to the bedside of the dying profligate —and to proclaim it
in public to persons of all ages.
The most hoary-headed sinner in this assembly may find mercy
of the Lord. Though thou hast provoked God and grieved Him for
forty, fifty, sixty, seventy, fourscore years, yet to-day, if thou wilt
hear His voice, and harden not your heart, thou shalt enter into His
rest, and be received into His glory. You need not say, " Who shall
ascend into heaven to bring Christ down?" He who was near to the
thief on the cross, is near to you in the preaching of the cross. 0,
then, delay not to improve the precious season which will not last
long, which passeth away, and will soon come to a close I Look to




316                 THOMAS M'CRIE.
Him, believe on Him, cry to Him, confessing your sins, " Lord,
remember me, now when Thou art come into Thy kingdom." Look
on Him whom you have pierced by your iniquities, until your hearts
are smitten with the sight, and you are made to mourn as for an only
son, and to be in bitterness as for a first-born; and He will heal you
by the virtue of His stripes, and by the sovereign efficacy of His free
spirit.
But this example, while it invites to repentance, gives no encour.
agement to presumption. It has been justly remarked that one instance of conversion at the latest period of life has been recorded in
the Bible, that none may despair, and but one instance, that none
may presume, or delay this important work to the last. Not to insist
on the singularity of this man's situation, and the propriety of the
Redeemer's displaying the power of His grace, and the virtue of His
blood when hanging on the cross by a signal and extraordinary act
of mercy, the history of the converted malefactor affords not a
shadow of encouragement or excuse to those who resist the calls of
the Gospel, and procrastinate repentance; for he had not enjoyed
those calls, nor is there any good reason for thinking that he ever
heard or saw the Saviour before.
It is sinful to limit the holy One, and to despair of His mercy
and ability to save, in the most extreme case; but it is awfully sinful,
it is a fearful tempting and provoking of the Most High, to delay
repentance in the hope of finding mercy at a future period. When
put into plain language it just amounts to this, " I will continue in
sin because the grace of God abounds. I will go on to disobey Him,
and rebel against Him, and affront Him, in the confidence that He
will pardon me whenever I shall be pleased to turn to Him, and that
He will receive me when I am weary of sinning, and can no longer
find pleasure in it."
If this is not to " sin willfully, after having received the knowl.
edge of the truth"-if it is not to " sin the sin unto death," it is something very like it. What can such persons expect but that God will,
pronounce against them His fearful oath of exclusion, cease to strive
with them any longer by His Spirit, say to the ministers of His word
and of His providence "Let them alone," and give them up to the
uncontrolled operation of their own corruptions, increased and aggra.
vated by indulgence, and by the influence of the god of this world.
How know you that you shall have time for repentance? You
mav be struck dead in a single moment, in the very act of sinning with
a high hand. Or you may be struck motionless and senseless, without
a tongue to confess your sins, or your faith in the Saviour —without




THE PRAYER OF THE THIEF ON THE  CROSS.  317
an eye to read the record of salvation-without an ear to hear its
gladdening sounds from preacher or friend-without a memory to
recollect what you have heard or known of it. Although time for
reflection should be granted you, and though the gate of mercy
should stand open before you, yet your soul may be so filled with
darkness, and unbelief, and remorse that you can not perceive the
way of escape, and may die, like Judas, in despair.
Though quaintly expressed, there is much truth in the saying,
"True repentance is never too late, but late repentance is seldom
true." How many instances are there of "repentance" in sickness,
and in the prospect of death being " repented of." Judicious persons
who have had occasion to deal with the irreligious in such circumstances, have a saddening report to make of the result of their expe.
rience. How many of them have died as they have lived, ignorant,
insensible, hardened. Of those who survived, and were delivered
from the terrors of death, how many " returned, like the sow that
was washed, to her wallowing in the mire 1" And among those who
died with the accents of penitence on their lips, of how few can they
speak, but in the language of trembling hope I
We often hear of the contrition of condemned malefactors, and it
is not uncommon to represent them as having exhibited decided
marks of conversion in their cells and on the scaffold: but there is
reason to think that credulity is mingled with charity in these
reports. Charity should dispose us to form the most favorable hopes
of individuals, but when we speak on this subject, and especially
when we make our sentiments public, we should recollect that charity for the dead may be cruelty to the living. If such persons were
to be pardoned and restored to life, we may judge what would be
the result with multitudes of them, from what we see in the case of
those who have been recovered from a dangerous sickness. How
rarely do we meet, in such cases, with the unequivocal proofs of sincere repentance which were evinced in the crucified malefactor 1
Fourthly. See here a striking example of the different effects produced by the preaching of Christ crucified. To the one malefactor
the cross was the savor of life unto life, to the other it was the savor
of death unto death; to the former it was the power of God unto
salvation, to the latter it was a stumbling-block; it softened the heart
of the former, it hardened the heart of the latter; it prepared the one
for heaven, it rendered the other twofold more a child of hell
Here we perceive the exceeding riches of sovereign grace, and the
desperate depravity of the human heart when left to its native operation.




-14                 THOMAS M'CRIE.
0 the blindness, the infatuation, the obduracy of this impenitent
malefactor, whom neither the reproofs and contrition of his companion, nor the meekness and patience of Jesus, nor the acts of
clemency and grace which he witnessed, could soften I He saw the
rich treasures of grace opened; he heard the humble petition of his
comrade; he heard the gracious return made to it, granting him
nore than he had ventured to ask; he was a witness to the kingdom of heaven being bestowed on a fellow-convict: —and yet He
remained proud and impenitent, and would not bend his mind to
ask what he might have freely received. Yet this is no strange or
uncommon thing; it is every day verified in multitudes who enjoy
the Gospel.
Fifthly. How mysterious and manifold the ways by which God
imparts the knowledge of His mind to men-makes those that are
blind to see, and those that see, to be blind I *    *    *
The inscription which a heathen ruler ordered to be affixed to
the cross, and which he refused to recall or to modify, because the
instrument of savingly enlightening an ignorant malefactor, and
enabling him to silence and still the increasing tumult of those who
maliciously or ignorantly reviled the Holy One and the Just. O,
the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God I
&Xthly. What a small portion of truth will be of saving benefit
to a person when accompanied by the blessing of the Divine Spirit I
Who teacheth like God I When the vision of all is to the learned
as a sealed book, and the eyes of the prophets and their rulers an4
seers are covered, He can unvail its mysteries to the most ignorant
and uninitiated. By means of a few words He can make the outcasts of society wise to salvation, while those who despised and
-ursed them have " precept upon precept, line upon line, here a little and there a little," and yet all the effect is that they "fall backward, and are broken, and snared and taken." What slender means
will prove successful when God puts His hand to the work I
What a small portion of truth will irradiate the mind of a sinner, and dispel its darkness, when the Spirit of God makes way for
it, and accompanies it home with His secret and irresistible influence I




DISCOURSE SIXTY.THIRD.
THOMAS CHALMERS, D.D.
DR. CHALMERS was born at Anstruthers, near St. Andrews, in the
year 1780. He showed in early life signs of great powers; and was
soundly educated in the University of St. Andrews, where he won for
himself distinguished honors in literature and the physical sciences.
At the early age of twenty-three he was ordained; his first settlement
being at Cavers, from which place he removed to Kilmany. It is well
known that at the time of his ordination he had not experienced the
transforming power of the Divine Spirit. He was awakened to his
need of the saving knowledge of God, by the investigations which he
made in the " Evidences of Christianity," in preparing an article on that
subject for the "Edinburg Encyclopedia;" and was thenceforward a
new man. In 1815, Dr. Chalmers settled at Glasgow; and in 1824 he
became Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of St. Andrews. Four years later he came to the chair of Theology in Edinburg
University. Chalmers was foremost among the founders of the Free
Church of Scotland, who went out of the establishment in 1843, to
secure for their country the " Crown Rights of Jesus Christ." He afterward became Professor of Theology to the seceding body. Undimmed
as to his energies by toil and age, he labored on in the Master's cause
until the night of the 30th of May, 1847; when, after his usual Sabbath
duties, he retired to rest with his writing materials at his side, to resume
his studies in the morning; but died in his bed, as is supposed of a dis
ease of the heart
It is needless to speak of Chalmers's unsurpassed pulpit ability, of the
exhaustless wealth of his many productions upon morals, theology, and
religion, and the rich legacy which he has left to the ministry and the
churches, in his learned and eloquent sermons and discourses. Ample
justice is done to these various subjects in the admirable Memoirs by
Dr. Hanna. Chalmers is described as having been of about middle height,
thick-set and brawny, but not corpulent, with a face rather broad, high
cheek bones, pale and care-worn, eyes of a leaden color, nose broad and
lhon-like, mouth exceedingly expressive, and a forehead ample and high,
covered, in advanced life, with thin, straggling gray hair.




320                 THOMAS CHALMERS.
An ardent admirer of this great divine has given the following
eloquent and life-like picture of his preaching:
"His discourses resemble mountain torrents, dashing in strength
and beauty, amid rocks and woods, carrying every thing before them,
and gathering force as they leap and foam from point to point in their
progress to the sea. Calm and even sluggish in his appearance when at
rest, he was on fire when fairly roused; and at times, raising himself up
in his pulpit, with hand outstretched and burning eye, seemed as if he
were inspired. A true Son of Thunder, he swept the minds of his hearers, as th6 tempest sweeps the ocean, calling forth its world of waves
from their inmost depths, and filling the firmament above with its farresounding roar. In his family and among his friends, he was' gentle
as the dew from heaven,' but in the pulpit, and especially when defending  the Covenant and Crown Rights of Emmanuel,' he was as a storm
amid the hills of his native land. With a majesty of thougit and
vehemence of manner perfectly irresistible, he swept every thing before
him, and left his hearers with no power but that of admiration or surprise."*
It is a frequent remark that one would not have supposed him possessed of this vehemence of manner, judging by his printed productions,
The discourse which is here given, has not the boldness of expres.
sion which characterizes some of Chalmers's productions; but, in mark.
ing it as upon the whole his masterpiece, we have the concurrent opinion
of some of the best critics who have pronounced upon the comparative
merits of his sermons. He is grand and terrific in his "Fury not in
God;" but that discourse lacks the depth, transparency, beauty, precision, and strength of expression seen in the one that follows.
THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION.
" Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love
the world, the love of the Father is not in him." —1 JOHN, ii. 15.
There are two ways in which a practical moralist may attempt
to displace from the human heart its love of the world-either by
a demonstration of the world's vanity, so as that the heart shall be
prevailed upon simply to withdraw its regards from an object that is
not worthy of it; or, by setting forth another object, even God, as
more worthy of its attachment; so as that the heart shall be prevailed upon, not to resign an old affection which shall have nothing
* Rev. R. Turnbull, D.D., in "Tribute to Memory of Vinet and Chalmers."




THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION. 321
to succeed it, but to exchange an old affection for a new one. My
purpose is to show, that from the constitution of our nature, the
former method is altogether incompetent and ineffectual-and that
the latter method will alone suffice for the rescue and recovery of
the heart from the wrong affection that domineers over it. After
having accomplished this purpose, I shall attempt a few practical
observations.
Love may be regarded in two different conditions. The first i,
when its object is at a distance, and then it becomes love in a state
of desire. The second is, when its object is in possession, and then
it becomes love in a state of indulgence. Under the impulse of desire, man feels himself urged onward in some path or pursuit of
activity for its gratification. The faculties of his mind are put into
busy exercise. In the steady direction of one great and engrossing
interest, his attention is recalled from the many reveries into which
it might otherwise have wandered; and the powers of his body are
forced away from an indolence in which it else might have languished; and that time is crowded with occupation, which but foi
some object of keen and devoted ambition, might have driveled
along in successive hours of weariness and distaste-and though
hope does not always enliven, and success does not always crown
this career of exertion, yet in the midst of this very variety, and
with the alternations of occasional disappointment, is the machinery
of the whole man kept in a sort of congenial play, and upholden in
that tone and temper which are most agreeable to it. Insomuch,
that if through the extirpation of that desire which forms the originating principle of all this movement, the machinery were to stop,
and to receive no impulse from another desire substituted in its
place, the man would be left with all his propensities to action in a
state of most painful and unnatural abandonment. A sensitive
being suffers, and is in violence, if, after having thoroughly rested
from his fatigue, or been relieved from his pain, he continue in possession of powers without any excitement to these powers; if he
possess a capacity of desire without having an object of desire; or
if he have a spare energy upon his person, without a counterpart,
and without a stimulus to call it into operation. The misery of such
a condition is often realized by him who is retired from business, or
who is retired from law, or who is even retired from the occupations
of the chase, and of the gaming-table. Such is the demand of our
nature for an object in pursuit, that no accumulation of previous
success can extinguish it —and thus it is, that the most prosperous
merchant, and the most victorious general, and the most fortunate
21




322                THOMAS CHALMERS
gamester, when the labor of their respective vocations has come to
a close, are often found to languish in the midst of all their acquisitions, as if out of their kindred and rejoicing element. It is quite
in vain with such a constitutional appetite for employment in man,
to attempt cutting away from him the spring or the principle of one
employment, without providing him with another. The whole
heart and habit will rise in resistance against such an undertaking.
The else unoccupied female, who spends the hours of every evening
at some play of hazard, knows as well as you, that the pecuniary
gain, or the honorable triumph of a successful contest, are altogether
paltry. It is not such a demonstration of vanity as this that will
force her away from her dear and delightful occupation. The habit
can not so be displaced, as to leave nothing but a negative and cheerless vacancy behiid it-though it may so be supplanted as to be
followed up by another habit of employment, to which the power
of some new affection has constrained her. It is willingly suspended, for example, on any single evening, should the time that is
wont to be allotted to gaming, require to be spent on the preparations of an approaching assembly.
The ascendant power of a second affection will do, what no exposition, however forcible, of the folly and worthlessness of the
first, ever could effectuate. And it is the same in the great world.
You never will be able to arrest any of its leading pursuits, by a
naked demonstration of their vanity. It is quite in vain to think
of stopping one of these pursuits in any way else, but by stimulating to another. In attempting to bring a worthy man, intent and
busied with the prosecution of his objects, to a dead stand, you have
not merely to encounter the charm which he annexes to these objects-but you have to encounter the pleasure which he feels in the
very prosecution of them. It is not enough, then, that you dissipate the charm, by your moral, and eloquent, and affecting exposure of its illusiveness. You must address to the eye of his mind
another object, with a charm powerful enough to dispossess the first
of its influence, and to engage him in some other prosecution as full
of interest, and hope, and congenial activity, as the former. It is
this which stamps an impotency on all moral and pathetic declamation about the insignificance of the world. A man will no more
consent to the misery of being without an object, because that object is a trifle, or of being without a pursuit, because that pursuit
terminates in some frivolous or fugitive acquirement, than he will
voluntarily submit himself to the torture, because that torture is to
be of short duration. If to be without desire and without exertion




THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW  AFFECTION. 323
altogether, "s a state of violence and discomfort, then the present
desire, with its correspondent train of exertion, is not to be got rid
of simply by destroying it. It must be by substituting another desire, and another line or habit of exertion in its place-and the most
effectual way of withdrawing the mind from one object, is not by
turning it away upon desolate and unpeopled vacancy-but by presenting to its regards another object still more alluring.
These remarks apply not merely to love considered in its state
of desire for an object not yet obtained. They apply also to love
considered in its state of indulgence, or placid gratification, with an
object already in possession. It is seldom that any of our tastes are
made to disappear by a mere process of natural extinction. At
least, it is very seldom that this is done through the instrumentality
of reasoning. It may be done by excessive pampering-but it is
almost never done by the mere force of mental determination. But
what can not be thus destroyed, may be dispossessed-and one taste
may be made to give way to another, and to lose its power entirely
as the reigning affection of the mind. It is thus, that the boy
ceases, at length, to be the slave of his appetite, but it is because a
manlier taste has now brought it into subordination-and that the
youth ceases to idolize pleasure, but it is because the idol of wealth
has become the stronger and gotten the ascendency —and that even
the love of money ceases to have the mastery over the heart of
many a thriving citizen, but it is because drawn into the whirl of
city politics, another affection has been wrought into his moral system, and he is now lorded over by the love of power. There is not
one of these transformations in which the heart is left without an
object. Its desire for one particular object may be conquered; but
as to its desire for having some one object or other, this is unconquerable. Its adhesion to that on which it has fastened the preference of its regards, can not willingly be overcome by the rending
away of a simple separation. It can be done only by the application of something else, to which it may feel the adhesion of a still
stronger and more powerful preference. Such is the grasping tendency of the human heart, that it must have a something to lay hold
of —and which, if wrested away without the substitution of another
something in its place, would leave a void and a vacancy as painful
to the mind, as hunger is to the natural system. It may be dispossessed of one object, or of any, but it can not be desolated of all.
Let there be a breathing and a sensitive heart, but without a liking
and without affinity to any of the things that are around it, and in
a state of cheerless abandonment, it would be alive to nothing out




32                 THOMAS CHALMERS.
the burden of it, own consciousness, and feel it to be intolerable
It would make no difference to its owner, whether he dwelt in the
midst of a gay and goodly world, or placed afar beyond the outskirts of creation, he dwelt a solitary unit in dark and unpeopled
nothingness. The heart must have something to cling to-and
never, by its own voluntary consent, will it so denude itself of all
its attachments that there shall not be one remaining object that can
draw or solicit it.
The misery of a heart thus bereft of all relish for that which is
wont to minister enjoyment, is strikingly exemplified in those, who
satiated with indulgence, have been so belabored, as it were, with
the variety and the poignancy of the pleasurable sensations that
they have experienced, that they are at length fatigued out of all
capacity for sensation whatever. The disease of ennui is more fre.
quent in the French metropolis, where amusement is more exclusively the occupation of higher classes, than it is in the British metropolis, where the longings of the heart are more diversified by the
resources of business and politics. There are the votaries of fashion, who, in this way, have at length become the victims of fashionable excess-in whom the very multitude of their enjoyments, has
at last extinguished their power of enjoyment-who, with the gratifications of art and nature at command, now look upon all that is
around them with an eye of tastelessness-who, plied with the delights of sense and of splendor even to weariness, and incapable of
higher delights, have come to the end of all their perfection, and
like Solomon of old, found it to be vanity and vexation. The man
whose heart has thus been turned into a desert, can vouch for the
insupportable languor which must ensue, when one affection is thus
plucked away from the bosom, without another to replace it. It is
not necessary that a man receive pain from any thing, in order to
become miserable. It is barely enough that he looks with distaste
to every thing-and in that asylum which is the repository of minds
out of joint, and where the organ of feeling as well as the organ of
intellect, has been impaired, it is not in the cell of loud and frantic
outcries where you will meet with the acm6 of mental suffering.
But that is the individual who outpeers in wretchedness all his fellows, who throughout the whole expanse of nature and society,
meets not an object that has at all the power to detain or to interest
him; who neither in earth beneath, nor in heaven above, knows of
a single charm to which his heart can send forth one desirous or
responding movement; to whom the world, in his eye a vast and
empty desolation, has left him nothing but his own consciousness to




THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW  AFFECTION    825
feed upon-dead to all that is without him, and alive to nothing but
to the load of his own torpid and useless existence.
It will now be seen, perhaps, why it is that the heart keeps by its
present affections with so much tenacity —when the attempt is to do
them away by a mere process of extirpation. It will not consent to
be so desolated. The strong man, whose dwelling-place is there,
may be compelled to give way to another occupier-but unless
another stronger than he, has power to dispossess and to succeed
him, he will keep his present lodgment inviolable. The heart would
revolt against its own emptiness. It could not bear to be so left in
a state of waste and cheerless insipidity. The moralist who tries
such a process of dispossession as this upon the heart, is thwarted at
every step by the recoil of its own mechanism. You have all heard
that Nature abhors a vacuum. Such at least is the nature of the
heart, that though the room which is in it may change one inmate
for another, it can not be left void without pain of most intolerable
suffering. It is not enough then to argue the folly of an existing
affection. It is not enough, in the terms of a forcible or an affecting
demonstration, to make good the evanescence of its object. It may
not even be enough to associate the threats and terrors of some coming vengeance, with the indulgence of it. The heart may still resist
the every application, by obedience to which it would finally be conducted to a state so much at war with all its appetites as that of
downright inanition. So to tear away an affection from the heart,
as to leave it bare of all its regards, and of all its preferences, were
a hard and hopeless undertaking —and it would appear as if the alone
powerful engine of dispossession, were to bring the mastery of
another affection to bear upon it.
We know not a more sweeping interdict upon the affections of
Nature, than that which is delivered by the apostle in the verse before us. To bid a man into whom there is not yet entered the great
and ascendant influence of the principle of regeneration, to bid him
withdraw his love from all the things that are in the world, is to bid
him give up all the affections that are in his heart. The world is
the all of a natural man. He has not a taste, nor a desire, that
points not to a something placed within the confines of its visible
horizon. He loves nothing above it, and he cares for nothing bey'ond it; and to bid him love not the world, is to pass a sentence of
expulsion on all the inmates of his bosom. To estimate the magnitude and the difficulty of such a surrender, let us only think that it
were just as arduous to prevail on him not to love wealth, which is
but one of the things in the w -rld, as to prevail on him to set willful




326               THOMAS CHALMERS.
fire to his own property. This he might do with sore and painful
reluctance, if he saw that the salvation of his life hung upon It. But
this he would do willingly if he saw that a new property of tenfold
value was instantly to emerge from the wreck of the old one. In
this case there is something more than the mere displacement of an
affection. There is the overbearing of one affection by another.
But to desolate his heart of all love for the things of the world
without the substitution of any love in its place, were to him a process of as unnatural violence, as to destroy all the things he has in
the world, and give him nothing in their room. So that, if to love
not the world be indispensable to one's Christianity, then the crucifixion of the old man is not too strong a term to mark that transition in his history, when all old things are done away, and all things
are become nlew.
We hope that by this time, you understand the impotency of a
mere demonstration of this world's insignificance. Its sole practical
effect, if it had any, would be to leave the heart in a state to which
every heart is insupportable, and that is a mere state of nakedness
and negation. You may remember the fond and unbroken tenacity
with which your heart has often recurred to pursuits, over the utter
frivolity of which it sighed and wept but yesterday. The arithmetic
of your short-lived days, may on Sabbath make the clearest impression upon your understanding-and from his fancied bed of death,
may the preacher cause a voice to descend in rebuke and mockery
on all the pursuits of earthliness-and as he pictures before you the
fleeting generations of men, with the absorbing grave, whither all
the joys and interests of the world hasten to their sure and speedy
oblivion, may you, touched and solemnized by his argument, feel for
a moment as if on the eve of a practical and permanent emancipation from the scene of so much vanity. But the morrow comes, and
the business of the world, and the objects of the world, and the
moving forces of the world comes along with it-and the machinery
of the heart, in virtue of which it must have something to grasp, or
something to adhere to, brings it under a kind of moral necessity to
be actuated just as before-and in utter repulsion toward a state so
unkindly as that of being frozen out both of delight and of desire,
does it feel all the warmth and the urgency of its wonted solicitations-nor in the habit and history of the whole man, can we detect
so much as one symptom of the new creature-so that the church,
instead of being to him a school of obedience, has been a mere saun.
tering place for the luxury of a passing and theatrical emotion; and
the preaching which is mighty to compel the attendance of m'lti



THE EXPULSIVE POWER DF A NEW  AFFECTION. 327
tudes, which is mighty to still and solemnize the hearers into a lind
of tragic sensibility, which is mighty in the play of variety and
vigor that it can keep up around the imagination, is not mighty to
the pulling down of strongholds.
The love of the world can not be expunged by a mere demon.
stration of the world's worthlessness. But may it not be supplanted
by the love of that which is more worthy than itself? The heart
can not be prevailed upon to part with the world, by a simple act of
resignation. But may not the heart be prevailed upon to admit into
its preference another, who shall subordinate the world, and bring it
down from its wonted ascendency? If the throne which is placed
there, must have an occupier, and the tyrant that now reigns has occupied it wrongfully, he may not leave a bosom which would rather
detain him, than be left in desolation. But may he not give way to
the lawful sovereign, appearing with every charm that can secure
his willing admittance, and taking unto Himself His great power to
subdue the moral nature of man, and to reign over it? In a word,
if the way to disengage the heart from the positive love of one great
and ascendant object, is to fasten it in positive love to another, then
it is not by exposing the worthlessness of the former, but by addressing to the mental eye the worth and excellence of the latter, that all
old things are to be done away, and all things are to become new.
To obliterate all our present affections, by simply expunging
them, and so as to leave the seat of them unoccupied, would be to
destroy the old character, and to substitute no new character in its
place. But when they take their departure upon the ingress of other
visitors; when they resign their sway to the power and predominance of new affections; when, abandoning the heart to solitude,
they merely give place to a successor who turns it into as busy a
residence of desire, and interest, and expectation as before-there is
nothing in all this to thwart or to overbear any of the laws of our
sentient nature —and we see now, in fullest accordance with the mechanism of the heart, a great moral revolution may be made to take
place upon it.
This, we trust, will explain the operation of that charm which
accompanies the effectual preaching of the Gospel. The love of God,
and the love of the world, are two affections, not merely in a state
of rivalship, but in a state of enmity —and that so irreconcilable,
that they can not dwell together in the same bosom. We have already affirmed how impossible it were for the heart, by any innate
elasticity of its own, to cast the world away from it, and thus reduce
itself to a wilderness. The heart is not so constituted, and the on] y




328                THOMAS CHALMERS.
way to dispossess it of an old affection, is by the expulsive power of
a new one. Nothing can exceed the magnitude of the required
change in a rman's character-when bidden as he is in the New Testament, to love not the world; no, nor any of the things that are in
the world-for this so comprehends all that is dear to him in exist
ence, as to be equivalent to a command of self-annihilation. But
the same revelation which dictates so mighty an obedience, places
within our reach as mighty an instrument of obedience. It brings
for admittance, to the very door of our heart, an affection which,
once seated upon its throne, will either subordinate every previous
inmate, or bid it away. Beside the world, it places before the eye
of the mind, Him who made the world, and with this peculiarity,
which is all its own-that in the Gospel do we so behold God, as
that we may love God. It is there, and there only, where God stands
revealed as an object of confidence to sinners-and where our desire
after Him is not chilled into apathy, by that barrier of human guilt
which intercepts every approach that is not made to Him through
the appointed Mediator. It is the bringing in of this better hope,
whereby we draw nigh unto God-and to live without hope, is to
live without God, and if the heart be without God, the world will
then have all the ascendency. It is God apprehended by the believer as God in Christ, who alone can dispost it from this ascendency. It is when He stands dismantled of the terrors which belong
to Him as an offended lawgiver, and when we are enabled by faith,
which is His own gift, to see His glory in the face of Jesus Christ,
and to hear His beseeching voice, as it protests good-will to men,
and entreats the return of all who will to a full pardon, and a gra.
cious acceptance-it is then, that a love paramount to the love of the
world, and at length expulsive of it, first arises in the regenerating
bosom. It is when released from the spirit of bondage, with which
love can not dwell, and when admitted into the number of God's
children, through the faith that is in Christ Jesus, the spirit of adoption is poured upon us-it is then that the heart, brought under the
mastery of one great and predominant affection, is delivered from
the tyranny of its former desires, and in the only way in which de.
liverance is possible. And that faith which is revealed to us from
heaven, as indispensable to a sinner's justification in the sight of God,
is also the instrument of the greatest of all moral and spiritual
achievements on a nature dead to the influence, and beyond the reach
of every other application.
Thus may we come to perceive what it is that makes the most effective kind of preaching. It is not enough to hold out to the




THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW  AFFECTION. 329
world's eye the mirror of its own imperfections. It is not enough
to come forth with a demonstration, however pathetic, of the evanescent character of all its enjoyments. It is not enough to travel the
walk of experience along with you, and speak to your own ccnbcience, and your own recollection of the deceitfulness of the heart,
and the deceitfulness of all that the heart is set upon. There is
many a bearer of the Gospel-message, who has not shrewdness or
natural discernment enough, and who has not power of characteristic description enough, and who has not the talent of moral delineation enough, to present you with a vivid and faithful sketch of the
existing follies of society. But that very corruption which he has
not the faculty of representing in its visible details, he may practically be the instrument of eradicating in its principle. Let him be
but a faithful expounder of the Gospel testimony. Unable as he
may be to apply a descriptive hand to the character of the present
world, let him but report with accuracy the matter which revelation
has brought to him from a distant world-unskilled as he is in the
work of so anatomizing the heart, as with the power of a novelist to
create a graphical or impressive exhibition of the worthlessness of
its many affections-let him only deal in those mysteries of peculiar
doctrine, on which the best of novelists have thrown the wantonness
of their derision. He may not be able, with the eye of shrewd and
satirical observation, to expose to the ready recognition of his hearers the desires of worldliness —but with the tidings of the Gospel in
commission, he may wield the only engine that can extirpate them.
He can not do what some have done, when, as if by the hand of a
magician, they have brought out to view, from the hidden recesses
of our nature, the foibles and lurking appetites which belong to it.
But he has a truth in his possession, which into whatever heart it
enters, will, like the rod of Aaron swallow up them all; and unqualified as he may be, to describe the old man in all the nicer shad.
ing of his natural and constitutional varieties, with him is deposited
that ascendant influence under which the leading tastes and tendencies of the old man are destroyed, and he becomes a new creature
in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Let us not cease, then, to ply the only instrument of powerful
and positive operation, to do away from you the love of the world.
Let us try every legitimate method of finding access to your hearts
for the 1ove of Him who is greater than the world. For this purpose, let us, if possible, clear away that shroud of unbelief which so
hides and darkens the face of the Deity. Let us insist on his claims
to your affection —and whether in the shape of gratitude, or in the




330               THqOMAS CHALMERS.
shape of esteem, let us never cease to affirm, that in the whole of that
wondrous economy, the purpose of which is to reclaim a sinful world
unto Himself-He, the God of love, so sets Himself forth in characters of endearment, that naught but faith, and naught but understanding, are wanting, on your part, to call forth the love of your
hearts back again.
And here let me advert to the incredulity of a worldly man
when he brings his own sound and secular experience to bearupon
the high doctrines of Christianity-when he looks on regeneration
as a thing impossible-when feeling as he does, the obstinacies of his
own heart on the side of things present, and casting an intelligent
eye., much exercised perhaps in the observation of human life, on the
equal obstinacies of all who are around him, he pronounces this
whole matter about the crucifixion of the old man, and the resurrection of a new man in his place, to be in downright opposition to all
that is known and witnessed of the real nature of humanity. We
think that we have seen such men, who, firmly trenched in their own
vigorous and home-bred sagacity, and shrewdly regardful of all that
passes before them through the week, and upon the scenes of ordinary business, look on that transition of the heart by which it gradually dies unto time, and awakens in all the life of a new-felt and
ever-growing desire toward God, as a mere Sabbath speculation; and
who thus, with all their attention engrossed upon the concerns of
earthliness, continue unmoved, to the end of their days, among the
feelings, and the appetites, and the pursuits of earthliness. If the
thought of death, and another state of being after it, comes across
them at all, it is not with a change so radical as that of being born
again, that they ever connect the idea of preparation. They have
some vague conception of its being quite enough that they acquit
themselves in some decent and tolerable way of their relative obligations; and that, upon the strength of some such social and domestic
moralities as are often realized by him in whose heart the love of
God has never entered, they will be transplanted in safety from this
world, where God is the Being with whom it may almost be said,
that they have had nothing to do, to that world where God is the
Being with whom they will have mainly and immediately to do
throughout all eternity. They admit all that is said of the utter
vanity of time, when taken up with as a resting-place. But they resist every application made upon the heart of man, with the view of
so shifting its tendencies, that it shall not henceforth find in the interests of time, all its rest and all its refreshment. They, in fact,
regard such an attempt as an enterprise that is altogether aerial-and




THE EXPULSJVE POWER OF A NEW  AFFECriON. 331
with a tone of secular wisdom, caught from the familiarities of every.
day experience, do they see a visionary character in all that is said
of setting our affections on the things that are above; and of walking by faith; and of keeping our hearts in such a love of God as
shall shut out from them the love of the world; and of having no
confidence in the flesh; and of so renouncing earthly things as to
have our conversation in heaven.
Now, it is altogether worthy of being remarked of those men
who thus disrelish spiritual Christianity, and, in fact, deem it an impracticable acquirement, how much of a piece their incredulity
about the demands of Christianity, and their incredulity about the
doctrines of Christianity, are with one another. No wonder that
they feel the work of the New Testament to be beyond their
strength, so long as they hold the words of the New Testament to
be beneath their attention. Neither they nor any one else can dispossess the heart of an old affection, but by the impulsive power of a
new one-and, if that new affection be the love of God, neither they
nor any one else can be made to entertain it, but on such a representation of the Deity, as shall draw the heart of the sinner toward
Him. Now it is just their belief which screens from the discern.
ment of their minds this representation. They do not see the love
of God in sending His Son into the world. They do not see the expression of His tenderness to men, in sparing Him not, but giving
Him up unto the death for us all. They do not see the sufficiency
of the atonement, or of the sufferings that were endured by Him who
bore the burden that sinners should have borne. They do not see
the blended holiness and compassion of the Godhead, in that He
passed by the transgressions of His creatures, yet could not pass
them by without an expiation. It is a mystery to them, how a man
should pass to the state of godliness from a state of natur? —but had
they only a believing view of God manifest in the flesb, this would
resolve for them the whole mystery of godliness. As i. is they can
not get quit of their old affections, because they are out of sight
front all those truths which have influence to raise a new one.
They are like the children of Israel in the land of Egypt, when required to make bricks without straw-they can not love God, while
they want the only food which can aliment this affection in a sinner's bosom-and however great their errors may be both in resisting
the demands of the Gospel as impracticable, and in rejecting the
doctrines of the Gospel as inadmissible, yet there is not a spiritual
man (and it is the prerogative of him who is spiritual to judge all
men) who will not perceive that there is a consistency in these errors.




832               THOMAS CHALMERS.
But if there be a consistency in the errors, in lik. manner is there
a consistency in the truths which are opposite to them. The man
who believes in the peculiar doctrines, will readily bow to the peculiar demands of Christianity. When he is told to love God supremely, this may startle another, but it will not startle him to whom
God has been revealed in peace, and in pardon, and in all the freeness of an offered reconciliation. When told to shut out the world
from his heart, this may be impossible with him who has nothing to
replace it-but not impossible with him, who has found in God a
sure and a satisfying portion. When told to withdraw his affections
from the things that are beneath, this were laying an order of selfextinction upon the man, who knows not another quarter in the
whole sphere of his contemplation, to which he could transfer them
-but it were not grievous to him whose view had been opened to
the loveliness and glory of the things that are above, and can there
find, for every feeling of his soul, a most ample and delighted occupation. When told to look not to the things that are seen and temporal, this were blotting out the light of all that is visible from the
prospect of him in whose eye there is a wall of partition between
guilty nature and the joys of eternity-but he who believes that
Christ has broken down this wall, finds a gathering radiance upon
his soul, as he looks onward in faith to the things that are unseen
and eternal. Tell a man to be holy-and how can he compass such
a performance, when his alone fellowship with holiness is a fellowship of despair? It is the atonement of the cross reconciling the
holiness of the lawgiver with the safety of the offender, that hath
opened the way for a sanctifying influence into the sinner's heart,
and he can take a kindred impression from the character of God now
brought nigh, and now at peace with him. Separate the demand
from the doctrine, and you have either a system of righteousness
that is impracticable, or a barren orthodoxy. Bring the demand and
the doctrine together, and.the true disciple of Christ is able to do
the one, through the other strengthening him. The motive is adequate to the movement; and the bidden obedience to the Gospel is
not beyond the measure of his strength, just because the doctrine of
the Gospel is not beyond the measure of his acceptance. The shield
of faith, and the hope of salvation, and the Word of God, and the
girdle of truth-these are the armor that he has put on; and with
these the battle is won, and the eminence is reached, and the man
stands on the vantage ground of a new field and a new prospect.
The effect is great, but the cause is equal to it-and stupendous as
this moral resurrection to the precepts of Christianity, undoubtedly




THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW AFFECTION. 333
is, there is an element of strength enough to give it being and con.
tinuance in the principles of Christianity.
The object of the Gospel is both to pacify the sinner's conscience,
and to purify his heart; and it is of importance to observe, that what
mars the one of these objects, mars the other also. The best way of
casting out an impure affection, is to admit a pure one; and by the
love of what is good, to expel the love of what is evil. Thus it is,
that the freer the Gospel, the more sanctifying is the Gospel; and
the more it is received as a doctrine of grace, the more will it be felt
as a doctrine according to godliness. This is one of the secrets of
the Christian life, that the more a man holds of God as a pensioner,
the greater is the payment of service that He renders back again.
On the tenure of " Do this and live," a spirit of fearfulness is sure to
enter; and the jealousies of a legal bargain chase away all confidence
firom the intercourse between God and man; and the creature striving to be square and even with his Creator, is in fact, pursuing all
the while his own selfishness instead of God's glory; and with all the
conformities which he labors to accomplish, the soul of obedience is
not there, the mind is not subject to the law of God, nor indeed
under such an economy ever can be. It is only when, as in the
Gospel, acceptance is bestowed as a present, without money and
without price, that the security which man feels in God is placed beyond the reach of disturbance-or that he can repose in Him as one
friend reposes in another-or that any liberal and generous understanding can be established betwixt them-the one party rejoicing
over the other to do him good-the other finding that the truest
gladness of his heart lies in the impulse of a gratitude by which it is
awakened to the charms of a new moral existence. Salvation by
grace-salvation by free grace-salvation not of works, but according to the mercy of God-salvation on such a footing is not more
indispensable to the deliverance of our persons from the hand of
justice,.than it is to the deliverance of our hearts from the chill and
the weight of ungodliness. Retain a single shred or fragment of
legality with the Gospel, and you raise a topic of distrust between
man and God. You take away from the power of the Gospel to melt
and to conciliate. For this purpose the freer it is the better it is.
That very peculiarity which so many dread as the germ of Antinomianism, is, in fact, the germ of a new spirit and a new inclination
against it. Along with the light of a free Gospel does there enter
the love of the Gospel, which, in proportion as you impair the freeness, you are sure to chase away. And never does the sinner find
within himself so mighty a moral transformation, as when under the




334               THOMAS CHALMERS.
belief that he is saved by grace, he feels constrained thereby to offer
his heart a devoted thing, and to deny ungodliness.
To do any work in the best manner, you would make use of the
fittest tools for it. And we trust that what has been said may serve
in some degree for the practical guidance of those who would like to
reach the great moral achievement of our text, but feel that the tendncies and desires of nature are too strong for them. We know of
no other way by which to keep the love of the world out of our heart
than to keep in our hearts the love of God-and no other way by
which to keep our hearts in the love of God, than by building ourselves on our most holy faith. That denial of the world which is
not possible to him that dissents from the Gospel testimony, is possible, even as all things are possible to him that believeth. To try
this without faith, is to work without the right tool or the right instrument. But faith worketh by love; and the way of expelling from
the heart the love that transgresseth the law, is to admit into its receptacles the love which fulfilleth the law.
Conceive a man to be standing on the margin of this green world,
and that, when he looked toward it, he saw abundance smiling upon
every field, and all the blessings which earth can afford, scattered in
profusion throughout every family, and the light of the sun sweetly
resting upon all the pleasant habitations, and the joys of human com.
panionship brightening many a happy circle of society-conceive
this to be the general character of the scene upon one side of his
contemplation, and that on the other, beyond the verge of the goodly
planet on which he was situated, he could descry nothing but a dark
and fathomless unknown. Think you that he would bid a voluntary
adieu to all the brightness and all the beauty that were before him
upon earth, and commit himself to the frightful solitude away from
t? Would he leave its peopled dwelling-places, and become a solitary wanderer through the fields of nonentity? If space offered him
nothing but a wilderness, would he for it abandon the home-bred scenes
of life and of cheerfulness that lay so near, and exerted such a power
of urgency to detain him? Would not he cling to the regions of
sense, and of life, and of society?-and shrinking away from the desolation that was beyond it, would not he be glad to keep his firm
footing on the territory of this world, and to take shelter under the
silver canopy that was stretched over it?
But if, during the time of his contemplation, some happy island
of the blest had floated by, and there had burst upon his senses the
light of its surpassing glories, and its sounds of sweeter melody, and
he clearly saw that there a purer beauty rested upon every field, and




THE EXPULSIVE POWER OF A NEW  AFFECTION. 33.5
a more heartfelt joy spread itself among all the families, and he could
discern there a peace, and a piety, and a benevolence which put a
moral gladness into every bosom, and united the whole society in
one rejoicing sympathy with each other, and with the beneficent
Father of them all. Could he further see that pain and mortality were there unknown, and above all, that signals of welcome
were hung out, and an avenue of communication was made for him
— perceive you not that what was before the wilderness, would become the land of invitation, and that now the world would be the
wilderness? What unpeopled space could not do, can be done by
space teeming with beatific scenes, and beatific society. And let the
existing tendencies of the heart be what they may to the scene that
is near and visible around us, still if another stood revealed to the
prospect of man, either through the channel of faith, or through the
channel of his senses —then, without violence done to the constitution
of his moral nature, may he die unto the present world, and live to
the lovelier world that stands in the distance away from it.




DISCOURSE SIXTY.FOURTH,
EDWARD IRVING, M.A.
IRViNG was born at Annan, in 1792, and completed his studies at the
University of Edinburg. After having spent several years in teaching,
he determined on the ministry as a profession. Dr. Chalmers, on hearing him preach, was so impressed with his abilities that he appointed him
his assistant at St. John's Church, Glasgow. In 1823 he was appointed
preacher at Caledonian Asylum, in Cross-street, Hatton Garden, London; where such crowds flocked to hear him as to render it necessary
to procure tickets of admission, even for "standing room." Becoming
acquainted with Mr. Drummond, he joined " the prophets," as they were
called; for which, in 1830, he was charged with "heresy," by the Scotch
Church in London, and finally deposed by the Presbytery to which he
was attached. He continued to preach, however, until the time of his
death, in 1834. He died repeating the twenty-third Psalm in the original Hebrew. A sect sprung up about the time of his death, called Ir.
uingites.
This remarkable man, who thus went down to his grave under a
cloud, has been pionounced the most eloquent man of our century. As
an orator he has been compared to Demosthenes, Luther, and Paul;
and as a poet, to Milton. Such men as McIntosh, Canning, Brougham,
and Coleridge, have rendered admiring homage to his genius. It was
a most remarkable combination of powers, physical, moral, and mental,
that won his unprecedented popularity. Irving has left a discourse on
"Missions," " Babylon and Infidelity Foredoomed of God," and some
other works. His " Orations on the Oracles of God," are among his
chief productions, and have a world-wide reputation. The first of
these (that which we have selected) has been most admired. Therc
are passages in it of almost tmrivaled beauty and sublimity.
PREPARATION FOR CONSULTING THE ORACLES
OF GOD.
"Search the Scriptures." —JOHN, v. 39.
There was a time when each revelation of the word of God ha(
an introduction into this earth, which neither permitted men t




PREPARA.TION FOR CONSULTING GOD'S ORACLES. 337
doubt whence it came, nor wherefore it was sent. If at the giving
of each several truth a star was not lighted up in heaven, as at the
birth of the Prince of Truth, there was done upon the earth a wonder, to make her children listen to the message of their Maker.
The Almighty made bare His arm; and, through mighty acts shown
by His holy servants, gave demonstration of His truth, and found
for it a sure place among the other matters of human knowledge
and belief.
But now the miracles of God have ceased, and nature, secure
and unmolested, is no longer called on for testimonies to her Creator's voice. No burning bush draws the footsteps to His presence
chamber; no invisible voice holds the ear awake; no hand cometh
forth from the obscurity to write His purposes in letters of flame.
The vision is shut up, and the testimony is sealed, and the word of
the Lord is ended, and this solitary Volume, with its chapters and
verses, is the sum total of all for which the chariot of heaven made
so many visits to the earth, and the Son of God Himself tabernacled and dwelt among us.
The truth which it contains once dwelt undivulged in the bosom
of God; and, on coming forth to take its place among things revealed, the heavens and the earth, and nature, through all her chambers, gave it reverent welcome. Beyond what it contains, the mysteries of the future are unknown.  To gain it acceptation and
currency, the noble company of martyrs testified unto the death.
The general assembly of the first-born in heaven made it the daystar of their hopes, and the pavilion of their peace. Its every sentence is charmed with the power of God, and powerful to the everlasting salvation of souls.
Having our minds filled with these thoughts of the primeval
divinity of revealed Wisdom when she dwelt in the bosom of God,
and was of His eternal Self a part, long before He prepared the
heavens, or set a compass upon the face of the deep; revolving also,
how, by the space of four thousand years, every faculty of mute
Nature did solemn obeisance to this daughter of the divine mind,
whenever He pleased to commission her forth to the help of mortals; and further meditating upon the delights which she had of
old with the sons of men, the height of heavenly temper to which
she raised them and the offspring of magnanimous deeds which these
two-the wisdom of God, and the soul of man-did engender between themselves-meditating, I say, upon these mighty topics, our
soul is smitten with grief and shame to remark how in this latter
day, she hath fallen from her high estate; and fallen along with her
22




388                 EDWARD IRVING.
the great and noble character of men. Or if there be still a few
names, as of the missionary martyr, to emulate the saints of old —
how to the commonalty of Christians her oracles have fallen into a
household commonness, and her visits into a cheap familiarity; while
by the multitude she is mistaken for a minister of terror sent to oppress poor mortals with moping melancholy, and inflict a wound
upon the happiness of human kind.
For there is now no express stirring up the faculties to meditate
her high and heavenly strains-there is no formal sequestration of the
mind from all other concerns, on purpose for her special entertainment-there is no house of solemn seeking and solemn waiting for
a spiritual frame, before entering and listening to the voice of the
Almighty's wisdom. Who feels the sublime dignity there is in a saying, fresh descended from the porch of heaven? Who feels the
awful weight there is in the least iota that hath dropped from the lips
of God? Who feels the thrilling fear of trembling hope there is in
words whereon the destinies of himself do hang? Who feels the
swelling tide of gratitude within his breast, for redemption and salvation coming, instead of flat despair and everlasting retribution?
Finally, who, in perusing the word of God, is captivated through
all His faculties, and transported through all His emotions, and
through all His energies of action wound up? Why, to say the
best, it is done as other duties are wont to be done; and, having
reached the rank of a daily, formal duty, the perusal of the Word
hath reached its noblest place. Yea, that which is the guide and
spur of all duty, the necessary aliment of Christian life, the first
and the last of Christian knowledge, and Christian feeling hath, to
speak the best, degenerated in these days to stand rank and file,
among those duties whereof it is parent, preserver, and commander.
And, to speak not the best, but the fair and common truth, this
Book, the offspring of the Divine mind, and the perfection of heavenly wisdom, is permitted to lie from day to day, perhaps from
week to week, unheeded and unperused, never welcome to our
happy, healthy, and energetic moods; admitted, if admitted at all,
in seasons of sickness, feeble-mindedness, and disabling sorrow.
Yea, that which was sent to be a spirit of ceaseless joy and hope
within the heart of man, is treated as the enemy of happiness, and
the murderer of enjoyment; and eyed askance, as the remembrancer of death, and the very messenger of hell.
Oh I if books had but tongues to speak their wrongs, then might
this Book well exclaim —Hear, 0 heavens I and give ear, 0 earth I
I came from the love and embrace of God, and mute Nature, to




PREPARATION FOR CONSULTING GOD'S ORACLES. 339
whom I brought no boon, did me rightful homage. To men I come
and my words were to the children of men. I disclosed to you
the mysteries of hereafter, and the secrets of the throne of God. I
set open to you the gates of salvation, and the way of eternal life,
hitherto unknown. Nothing in heaven did I withhold from your
hope and ambition; and upon your earthly lot I poured the full
horn of Divine providence and consolation. But ye requited me
with no welcome, ye held no festivity on my arrival: ye sequester
me from happiness and heroism, closeting me with sickness and
infirmity: ye make not of me, nor use me for, your guide to wisdom and prudence, put me into a place in your last of duties, and
withdraw me to a mere corner of your time; and most of ye set
me at naught and utterly disregard me. I come, the fullness of the
knowledge of God; angels delighted in my company, and desired
to dive into my secrets. But ye, mortals, place masters over me,
subjecting me to the discipline and dogmatism of men, and tutoring
me in your schools of learning. I came, not to be silent in your
dwellings, but to speak welfare to you and to your children. I
came to rule, and my throne to set up in the hearts of men. Mine
ancient residence was the bosom of God; no residence will I have
but the soul of an immortal; and if you had entertained me, I
should have possessed you of the peace which I had with God,
" when I was with Him and was daily His delight, rejoicing always
before Him. Because I have called you and ye have refused, I have
stretched out my hand and no man regarded; but ye have set at
naught all my counsel, and would none of my reproof; I also
will laugh at your calamity, and mock when your fear cometh as
desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind, when distress and anguish cometh upon you. Then shall they cry upon me,
but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not
find me."
From this cheap estimation and wanton neglect of God's counsel, and from the terror of this curse consequent thereon, we have
resolved, in the strength of God, to do our endeavor to deliver this
congregation of His intelligent and worshiping people —an endeavor
which we make with a full reception of the difficulties to be overcome on every side, within no less than without the sacred pale;
and upon which we enter with the utmost diffidence of our powers,
yet with the full purpose of straining them to the utmost, according
to the measure with which it hath pleased God to endow our mind.
And do thou, 0 Lord, from whom cometh the perception of truth,
vouchsafe to Thy servant an unction from Thine own Spirit, who




340                 EDWARD IRVING.
searcheth all things, yea, the deep things of God; and vouchsafe to
Thy people "the hearing ear and the understanding heart, that
they may hear and understand, and their souls may live!"
Before the Almighty made His appearance upon Sinai, there
were awful precursors sent to prepare His way; while He abode in
sight, there were solemn ceremonies and a strict ritual of attendance
when He departed, the whole camp set itself to conform unto His re
vealed will. Likewise, before the Saviour appeared, with His bettei
law, there was a noble procession of seers and prophets, who decried and warned the world of His coming; when He came there
were solemn announcements in the heavens and on the earth: He
did not depart without due honors; and then followed, on His departure, a succession of changes and alterations which are still in
progress, and shall continue in progress till the world's end. This
may serve to teach us, that a revelation of the Almighty's will make
demand for these three things, on the part of those to whom it is
revealed: A due preparation for receiving it; a diligent attention to it
while it is disclosing; a strict observance of it when it is delivered.
In the whole book of the Lord's revelations, you shall search in
vain for one which is devoid of these necessary parts. Witness the
awe-struck Isaiah, while the Lord displayed before him the sublime
pomp of His presence; and, not content with overpowering the frail
sense of the prophet, dispatched a seraph to do the ceremonial of
touching his lip with hallowed fire, all before He uttered one word
into his astonished ear. Witness the majestic apparition to Sainl
John, in the Apocalypse, of all the emblematical glory of the Sor
of Man, allowed to take silent effect upon the apostle's spirit, and
prepare it for the revelation of things to come. These heard wit}
all their absorbed faculties, and with all their powers addressed their
to the bidding of the Lord. But, if this was in aught flinched from
witness, in the persecution of the prophet Jonah, the fearful issuei
which ensued. From the presence of the Lord he could not flee
Fain would he have escaped to the uttermost parts of the earth; bu
in the mighty waters the terrors of the Lord fell upon him; an(
when engulfed in the deep, and entombed in the monster of th(
deep, still the Lord's word was upon the obdurate prophet, who ha(
no rest, not the rest of the grave, till he had fulfilled it to the ver:
uttermost.
Now, judging that every time we open the pages of this hol:
book, we are to be favored with no less than a communication fror
on high, in substance the same as those whereof we have detaile,
the three distinct and several parts, we conceive it due to the maj




PREPARATION  FOR CONSULTING GOD'S ORACLEs. 341
esty of Him who speaks, that we, in like manner, discipline our
spirits with a due preparation, and have them in a proper frame, before we listen to the voice; that, while it is disclosing to us the important message, we be wrapt in full attention; and that, when it
hath disburdened itself into our opened and enlarged spirits, we
proceed forthwith to the business of its fulfillment, whithersoever
and to whatseover it summon us forth. Upon each of these three
duties, incumbent upon one who would not forego the benefit of a
heavenly message, we will discourse apart, addressing ourselves in
this discourse to the first-mentioned of the three.
The preparation for the announcement. —" When God uttereth His
voice," says the Psalmist, " coals of fire are kindled; the hills melt
down like wax; the earth quakes; and deep proclaims itself unto
hollow deep." These sensible images of the Creator have now
vanished, and we are left alone, in the deep recesses of the meditative mind, to discern his coming forth. No trump of heaven now
speaketh in the world's ear. No angelic conveyancer of Heaver's
will taketh shape from the vacant air; and, having done his errand,
retireth into his airy habitation. No human messenger putteth forth
his miraculous hand to heal Nature's unmedicable wounds, winning for
his words a silent and astonished audience. Majesty and might no
longer precede the oracles of Heaven. They lie silent and unobtrusive, wrapped up in their little compass, one Volume among
many, innocently handed to and fro, having no distinction but that
in which our mustered thoughts are enabled to invest them. The
want of solemn preparation and circumstantial pomp, the imagination of the mind hath now to supply. The presence of the Deity,
and the authority of His voice, our thoughtful spirits must discern.
Conscience must supply the terrors that were wont to go before
Him; and the brightness of His coming, which the sense can no
longer behold, the heart, ravished with His word, must feel.
For the solemn vocation of all her powers, to do her Maker
bionor and give Him welcome, it is, at the very least, necessary that,he soul stand absolved from every call. Every foreign influence or
authority arising out of the world, or the things of the world,
Ihould be burst when about to stand before the Fountain of all au-;hority; every argument, every invention, every opinion of man'orgot, when about to approach to the Father and oracle of all inteligence. And as subjects, when their honors, with invitations, are
leld disengaged, though preoccupied with a thousand appointments,
Lo, upon an ardience, fixed and about to be holden with the King,f kings, it will become the honored mortal to break loose> from all




342                  EDWARD IRVING.
thralldon of men and things, and be arrayed in liberty of thought
and action to drink in the rivers of His pleasure, and to perform
-the commission of His lips.
Now far otherwise it hath appeared to us, that Christians as well
as worldly men come to this most august occupation of listening to
the word of God; preoccupied and prepossessed, inclining to it a
partial ear, a straitened understanding, and a disaffected will.
The Christian public are prone to preoccupy themselves with the
admiration of those opinions by which they stand distinguished as a
Church or sect from other Christians, and instead of being quite unfettered to receive the whole counsel of the divinity, they are prepared to welcome it no further than it bears upon, and stands with
opinions which they already favor. To this pre-judgment the early
use of catechisms mainly contributes, which, however serviceable in
their place, have the disadvantage of presenting the truth in a form
altogether different from what it occupies in the Word itself. In the
one it is presented to the intellect chiefly (and in our catechisms to
an intellect of a very subtle order), in the other it is presented more
frequently to the heart, to the affections, to the imitations, to the
fancy, and to all the faculties of the soul. In early youth, which is
so applied to with those compilations, an association takes place between religion and intellect, and a divorcement of religion from the
other powers of the inner man. This derangement, judging from
observation and experience, it is exceeding difficult to put to rights
in after-life; and so it comes to pass, that in listening to the oracles
of religion, the intellect is chiefly awake, and the better parts of the
message-those which address the heart and its affections, those
which dilate and enlarge our admiration of the Godhead, and those
which speak to the various sympathies of our nature, we are, by the
injudicious use of these narrow epitomes, disqualified to receive.
In the train of these comes controversy with his rough voice and
unmeek aspect, to disqualify the soul for a full and fair audience of
its Maker's word. The points of the faith we have been called on to
defend, or which are reputable with our party, assume, in our esteeri:,
an importance disproportionate to their importance in the Word
which we come to relish chiefly when it goes to sustain them, and
the Bible is hunted for arguments and texts of controversy, which
are treasured up for future service. The solemn stillness which the
soul should hold before his Maker, so favorable to meditation and
rapt communion with the throne of God, is destroyed at every
turn by suggestions of what is orthodox and evangelical-where all
is orthodox and evangelical; the spirit of such readers becomes lean,




PREPARATION  FOR CONSULTING GOD'S ORACLES  343
being fed with abstract truths and formal propositions; their temper
uncongenial, being ever disturbed with controversial suggestions;
their prayers undevout recitals of their opinions; their discourse
technical announcements of their faith. Intellect, cold inte'lect, hath
the sway over heavenward devotion and holy fervor. Man, contentious man, hath the attention which the unsearchable God should
undivided have; and the fine, full harmony of heaven's melodious
voice, which, heard apart, were sufficient to lap the soul in ecstasies
unspeakable, is jarred and interfered with, and the heavenly spell
is broken by the recurring conceits, sophisms, and passions of men.
Now truly an utter degradation it is of the Godliead to have His
word in league with that of any man, or any council of men. What
matter to me whether the Pope, or any work of any mind be exalted
to the quality of God? If any helps are to be imposed for the understanding, or safe-guarding, or sustaining of the Word, why not
the help of statues and pictures for my devotions? Therefore, while
the warm fancies of the Southerns have given their idolatry to the
ideal forms of noble art, let us Northerns beware we give not our
idolatry to the cold and coarse abstractions of human intellect.
For the preoccupations of worldly minds, they are not to be reckoned up, being manifold as their favorite passions and pursuits. One
thing only can be said, that before coming to the oracles of God they
are not preoccupied with the expectation and fear of Him. No
chord in their heart is in unison with things unseen; no moments
are set apart for religious thought and meditation; no anticipations
of the honored interview; no prayer of preparation like that of Daniel before Gabriel was sent to teach him; no devoutness like that of
Cornelius before the celestial visitation; no fastings like that of Peter before the revelation of the glory of the Gentiles! Now to minds
which are not attuned to holiness, the words of God find no entrance,
striking heavy on the ear, seldom making way to the understanding, almost never to the heart. To spirits hot with conversation,
perhaps heady with argument, uncomposed by solemn thought, but
ruffled and in uproar from the concourse of worldly interests, the
sacred page may be spread out, but its accents are drowned in the
noise which hath not yet subsided in the breast. All the awe, and
pathos, and awakened consciousness of a Divine approach, impressed
upon the ancients by the procession of solemnities, is to worldly men
without a substitute. They have not solicited themselves to be in
readiness. In a usual mood, and vulgar frame they come to God's
Word as to other compositions, reading it without any active imaginations about Him who speaks; feeling no awe of a sovereign Lord,




344                 EDWARD IRVING.
nor care of a tender Father, nor devotion to a merciful Saviour.
Nowise depressed themselves out of their wonted dependence, nor
humiliated before the King of kings-no prostrations of the soul, nor
falling at His feet as dead-no exclamation, as of Isaiah, " Woe is
me, for I am of unclean lips 1" —nor suit " Send me,"-nor fervent
ejaculation of welcome, as of Samuel, "Lord, speak, for Thy servant
heareth!" Truly they feel toward His word much as to the word of
an equal. No wonder it shall fail of happy influence upon spirits
which have, as it were on purpose, disqualified themselves for its
benefits by removing from the regions of thought and feeling which
it accords with, into other regions, which it is of too severe dignity
to affect, otherwise than with stern menace and direful foreboding I
If they would have it bless them and do them good, they must
change their manner of approaching it, and endeavor to bring themselves into that prepared, and collected, and reverential frame which
becomes an interview with the High and holy One who inhabiteth
the praises of eternity.
Having thus spoken without equivocation, and we hope without
offense, to the contradictedness and preoccupation with which Christians and worldly men are apt to come to the perusal of the Word
of God, we shall now set forth the two master-feelings under which
we shall address ourselves to the sacred occupation.
It is a good custom, inherited from the hallowed days of Scottish
piety, and in our cottages still preserved, though in our cities generally given up, to preface the morning and evening worship of the
family with a short invocation of blessing from the Lord. This is in
unison with the practice and recommendation of pious men, never to
open the Divine Word without a silent invocation of the Divine
Spirit. But no address to Heaven is of any virtue, save as it is the
expression of certain pious sentiments with which the mind is full
and overflowing. Of those sentiments which befit the mind that
comes into conference with its Maker, the first and most prominent
should be gratitude for His ever having condescended to hold commerce with such wretched and fallen creatures. Gratitude not only
expressing itself in proper terms, but possessing the mind with one
abiding and over-mastering mood, under which it shall sit impressed
the whole duration of the interview. Such an emotion as can not
utter itself in language-though by language it indicate its presence
-but keeps us in a devout and adoring frame, while the Lord is uttering His voice.
Go visit a desolate widow with consolation, and help, and father.
hood of her orphan children-do it again and again, and your pres



PREPARATION FOR CONSULTING GOD'S ORACLES, 345
ence, the sound of your approaching footstep, the soft utterance of
your voice, the very mention of your name, shall come to dilate her
heart with a fullness which defies her tongue to utter, but speaking
by the tokens of a swimming eye, and clasped hands, and fervent
ejaculations to Heaven upon your head! No less copious acknowledgment of God, the Author of our well-being, and the Father of our
better hopes, ought we to feel when His Word discloseth to us the
excess of His love. Though a vail be now cast over the Majesty
which speaks, it is the voice of the Eternal which we hear, coming
in soft cadences to win our favor, yet omnipotent as the voice of the
thunder, and overpowering as the rushing of many waters. And
though the vail of the future intervene between our hand and the
promised goods, still are they from His lips who speaks and it is
done, who commands, and all things stand fast. With no less emotion, therefore, should this Book be opened, than if, like him in the
Apocalypse, you saw the voice which spake; or, like him in the
trance, you were into the third heaven translated, company and communing with the realities of glory which eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, nor the heart of man conceived.
Far and foreign from such an opened and awakened bosom, is
that cold and formal hand which is generally laid upon the sacred
Volume; that unfeeling and unimpressive tone with which its accents
are pronounced; and that listless and incurious ear into which its
blessed sounds are received. How can you, thus unimpassioned,
hold communion with themes in which every thing awful, vital,
and endearing meet together! Why is not curiosity, curiosity ever
hungry, on edge to know the doings and intentions of Jehovah,
King of kings? Why is not interest, interest ever awake, on tip-toe
to hear the future destiny of itself? Why is not the heart that panteth over the world after love and friendship, overpowered with the
full tide of the Divine acts and expressions of love? Where is nature
gone when she is not moved with the tender mercy of Christ? Methinks the affections of men are fallen into the yellow leaf. Of the
poets which charm the world's ear, who is he that inditeth a song
unto his God? Some will tune their harps to sensual pleasure, and
by the enchantment cf their genius well-nigh commend their unholy
themes to the imagination of saints. Others to the high and noble
sentiments of the heart, will sing of domestic joys and happy unions,
casting around sorrow the radiancy of virtue, and bodying forth, in
undying forms, the short-lived visions of joy I Others have enrolled
themselves the high-priests of mute nature's charms, enchanting her
echoes with their minstrelsy, and peopling her solitudes with the




346                 EDWARD IRYING.
bright creatures of their fancy. But when, since the days of the
blind master of English song, hath any poured forth a lay worthy
of the Christian theme? Nor in philosophy, "the palace of the
soul," have men been more mindful of their Maker. The flowers
of the garden, and the herbs of the field have their unwearied devotees, crossing the ocean, wayfaring in the desert, and making devout
pilgrimages to every region of nature for offerings to their patron
muse. The rocks, from their residences among the clouds, to their
deep rests in the dark bowels of the earth, have a bold and most venturous priesthood, who see in their rough and flinty faces a more delectable image to adore than in the revealed countenance of God.
And the political welfare of the world is a very Moloch, who can at
any time command his hecatomb of human victims.  But the
revealed suspense of God, to which the harp of David, and the prophetic lyre of Isaiah were strung, the prudence of God, which the
wisest of men coveted after, preferring it to every gift which Heaven
could confer, and the eternal intelligence himself in human form, and
the unction of the Holy One which abideth-these the common heart
of man hath forsaken, and refused to be charmed withal.
I testify, that there ascendeth not from earth a hosannah of her
children to bear witness in the ear of the upper regions to the wonderful manifestations of her God! From a few scattered hamlets in
a small portion of her territory, a small voice ascendeth, like the voice
of one crying in the wilderness. But to the service of our general
Preserver there is no concourse from Dan unto Bersheeba, of our people, the greater part of whom, after two thousand years of apostolic
commission, have not the testimonies of our God; and the multitude
of those who disrespect or despise them I
But, to return from this lamentation, which, may God hear, who
doth not disregard the cries of His afflicted people! With the full
sense of obligation to the giver, combine a humble sense of your
own incapacity to value and to use the gift of His oracles. Having
no taste whatever for the mean estimates which are made, and the
coarse invectives that are vented against human nature, which,
though true in the main, are often in the manner so unfeeling and
triumphant, as to reveal hot zeal rather than tender and deep sorrow, we will not give in to this popular strain. And yet it is a truth
by expel-iet ce, revealed, that though there be in man most noble
faculties, and a nature restless after the knowledge and truth of
things, there are, toward God and His revealed will, an indisposition and a regardlessness, which the most tender and enlightened
consciences are the most ready to acknowledge. Of our emancipated




PREP.&RATION FOR CONSULTING GOD'S ORACLES. 347
youth, who, bound after the knowledge of the visible works of God,
and the gratification of the various instincts of nature, how few betake themselves at all, how few absorb themselves with the study
and obedience of the word of God! And when, by God's visita.
tion, we address ourselves to the task, how slow is our progress and
how imperfect our performance! it is most true that nature is unwilling to the subject of the Scriptures. The soul is previously
possessed with adverse interests; the world hath laid an embargo on
her faculties, and monopolized them to herself; old habit hath perhaps added to his almost incurable callousness; and the enemy of
God and man is skillful to defend what he hath already won. So
circumstanced, and every man is so circumstanced, we come to the
audience of the word of God, and listen in worse tune than a wanton to a sermon, or a hardened knave to a judicial address. Our
understanding is prepossessed with a thousand idols of the world,
religious or irreligious-which corrupt the reading of the word into
a straining of the text to their service, and when it will not strain,
cause it to be skimmed, and perhaps despised or hated. Such a
thing as a free and unlimited reception of all parts of the Scripture
into the mind, is a thing most rare to be met with, and when met
with, will be found the result of many a sore submission of nature's
opinions as well as of nature's likings.
But the word, as hath been said, is not for the intellect alone, but
for the heart, and for the will. Now if any one be so wedded to his
own candor as to think he doth accept the divine truth unabated,
surely no one will flatter himself into the belief that his heart is attuned and enlarged for all divine commandments. The man who
thus misdeems of himself must, if his opinions were just, be like a
sheet of fair paper, unblotted and unwritten on; whereas all men
are already occupied, to the very fullness, with other opinions and
attachments, and desires than the word reveals. We do not grow
Christians by the same culture by which we grow men, otherwise
what need of divine revelation, and divine assistance? But being
unacquainted from the womb with God, and attached to what is seen
and felt, through early and close acquaintance, we are ignorant and
detached from what is unseen and unfelt. The word is a novelty to
our nature, its truths fresh truths, its affections fresh affections, its
obedience gathered from the apprehension of nature and the commerce of worldly life. Therefore there needeth, in one that would
be served from this storehouse opened by heaven, a disrelish of his
old acquisitions, and a preference of the new, a simple, child-like
teachableness, an allowance of ignorance and error, with whatever




348                 EDWARD IRVING.
else beseems an anxious learner. Coming to the word of God, we
are like children brought into the conversations of experienced men;
and we should humbly listen and reverently inquire; or we are like
raw rustics introduced into high and polished life, and we should
unlearn our coarseness, and copy the habits of the station; nay we
are like offenders caught, and for amendment committed to the bosom
of honorable society, with the power of regaining our lost condition
and inheriting honor and trust-therefore we should walk softly and
tenderly, covering our former reproach with modesty and humbleness, hasting to redeem our reputation by distinguished performances,
against offense doubly guarded, doubly watchful for dangerous and
extreme positions, to demonstrate our recovered goodness.
These two sentiments —devout veneration of God for His unspeakable gift, and deep distrust of our capacity to estimate and use
it aright-will generate in the mind a constant aspiration after the
guidance and instruction of a higher power. The first sentiment of
goodness remembered, emboldening us to draw near to Him who
first drew near to us, and who with Christ will not refuse us any
gift. The second sentiment, of weakness remembered, teaching us
our need, and prompting us by every interest of religion and every
feeling of helplessness to seek of Him who hath said, " If any one
lack wisdom let him ask of God, who giveth liberally and upbraid.
eth not." The soul which under these two master-feelings cometh
to read, shall not read without profit. Every new revelation feeding
his gratitude and nourishing his former ignorance, will confirm the
emotions he is under, and carry them onward to an unlimited dimension. Such a one will prosper in the way; enlargement of the inner man will be his portion, and establishment in the truth his exceeding great reward. " In the strength of the Lord shall his right
hand get victory-even in the name of the Lord of Hosts. His
soul shall also flourish with the fruits of righteousness from the seed
of the Word, which liveth and abideth forever."
Thus delivered from prepossessions of all other masters, and arrayed in the raiment of humility and love, the soul should advance
to the meeting of her God; and she should call a muster of all her
faculties, and have all her poor grace in attendance, and any thing she
knows of His excellent works and exalted ways she should summon
up to her remembrance: her understanding she should quicken, her
memory refresh, her imagination stimulate, her affections cherish,
and her conscience arouse. All that is within her should be stirred
up, her whole glory should awake and her whole beauty display itself for the meeting of her King. As His hand-maiden she should




PREPARATION FOR CONSULT'rlNG GOD'S ORACLES. 349
meet Him; His own handiwork, though sore defaced, yet seeking
restoration; His humble, because offending servant-yet nothing
slavish, though humble-nothing superstitious, though devoutnothing tame, though modest in her demeanor; but quick and
ready, all addressed and wound up for her Maker's will.
How different the ordinary proceeding of Christians, who, with
timorous, mistrustful spirits; with an abeyance of intellect, and a
dwarfish reduction of their natural powers, enter to the conference
of the Word of God I The natural powers of man are to be mistrusted, doubtless, as the willing instruments of the evil one; but
they must be honored also as the necessary instruments of the Spirit
of God, whose operation is a dream, if it be not through knowledge,
intellect, conscience, and action. Now Christians, heedless of the
grand resurrection of the mighty instruments of thought and action,
at the same time coveting hard after holy attainment, do often resign the mastery of themselves, and are taken into the counsel cf the
religious world-whirling around the eddy of some popular leaderand so drifted, I will not say from godliness, but drifted certainly
from that noble, manly, and independent course, which, under steerage of the Word of God, they might safely have pursued for the
precious interests of their immortal souls. Meanwhile these popular
leaders, finding no necessity for strenuous endeavors and high
science in the ways of God, but having a gathering host to follow
them, deviate from the ways of deep and penetrating thoughtrefuse the contest with the literary and accomplished enemies of the
faith-bring a contempt upon the cause in which mighty men did
formerly gird themselves to the combat-and so cast the stumblingblock of a mistaken paltriness between enlightened men and the
cross of Christ! So far from this simple-mindedness (but its proper
name is feeble-mindedness) Christians should be-as aforetime in
this island they were wont to be —the princes of human intellect, the
lights of the world, the salt of the political and social state. Tim
they come forth from the swaddling-bands, in which foreign schools
have girt them, and walk boldly upon the high places of human understanding, they shall never obtain that influence in the upper regions of knowledge and power, of which, unfortunately, they have
not the apostolic unction to be in quest. They will never be the
master and commanding spirit of the time, until they cast off the
wrinkled and withered skin of an obsolete old age, and clothe themselves wit} intelligence as with a garment, and bring forth the fruits
of power and love and of a sound mind.
Mistake us not, for we steer in a narrow, very narrow channel,




350                 EDWARD IRVING.
with rocks of popular prejudice on every side. While we thus invocate to the reading of the Word, the highest strains of the human
soul, mistake us not as derogating from the office of the Spirit of
God. Far be it from any Christian, much further from any Chris
tian pastor, to withdraw from God the honor which is every where
His due; but there most of all His due where the human mind
abored alone for thousands of years, and labored with no successviz., the regeneration of itself, and its restoration to the last sem.
blance of the DivinityI Oh I let him be reverently inquired after,
devoutly on, and most thankfully acknowledged in every step of
progress from the soul's fresh awakening out of his dark, oblivious
sleep —even to her ultimate attainment upon earth and full accomplishment for heaven. And that there may be a fuller choir of
awakened men to advance His honor and glory here on earth, and
hereafter in heaven above; let the saints bestir themselves like angels, and the ministers of religion like archangels strong  And
now at length let us have a demonstration made of all that is noble
in thought, and generous in action, and devoted in piety, for bestir.
ring this lethargy, and breaking the bonds of hell, and redeeming
the whole world to the service of its God and King I




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TiHE AMERICAN PULPIT,
THE first preaching of a pure gospel on American soil was not in
costly temples made with men's hands. It was amid objects more sub.
lime than the creations of human art. As a type of some of those
scenes, we may call up the landing of the New England Pilgrims After
many vain attempts, the " Mayflower" has touched the icy shore, and
discharged her cargo of precious souls. Though in the dead of winter,
the chosen spot has in it something inviting to the cold and exhausted
voyagers. A few years ago the hand of the Indian had just there removed the trees for growing his corn. A sweet brook runs under the
hill-side, and "many a delicate spring of good water as can be drunk."
The cannon has been dragged to the top of one of the hills, for their
defense, and the ground is being laid out, that th  families may be by
themselves. Timber has at length been felled for building; but before
it could be framed, the last day of the week had come. The setting-sun
saw in that secluded spot but a single shed, where the goods might be
covered, and the settlers might rest their weary heads. How honored
that rude structure. There spent that noble band of pious exiles their
first Sabbath on the land. There breathed they forth the first notes of
praise and thanksgiving, ere long to ascend from every hill and vale.
And there the first Pilgrim preacher, on the 21st day of January, 1621,
dispensed to loving and trustful souls the consolations of the Divine
word.
Or, let us reproduce the scene of that lovely spring-day Sabbaththe first spent by the newly-arrived settlers before the mouth of the Quinnipiack-in April, 1638. Just yonder lie upon the smooth water two
or three small vessels. Here, along the margin of the creek, are a few
tents, and some two or three rude huts, with the boxes and luggage
that were landed yesterday, piled up around them; and here and there
a little column of smoke, going up in the still morning air, shows that
the inmates are in motion. Yet all is quiet. Though the sun is up,
there is no appearance of labor or business; for it is the Sabbath. Byand-by, the stillness is broken by the beating of a drum; and from the
tents and from the vessels, a congregation comes gathering around a
spreading oak.
23




354              THE AMERICAN PULPIT.
Here are men and women who have been accustomed to the luxuries
of wealth in a metropolis, and to the refinements of a court. Here are
ministers who have disputed in the Universities, and preached under
gothic arches in London. These men and women have come into the
wilderness, to face new dangers, to encounter new temptations. They
Iuok to God; and words of solemn prayer go up, responding to the
murmurs of the woods and of the waves. They sing Psalms to their
Maker and Preserver; and for the first time since the creation, the
echoes of these hills and waters are wakened by the voice of praise.
The word of God is opened, and their faith and hope are strengthened
by the remembrance of Him, who once like them was led by the Spirit
into the wilderness.*
Amid such scenes, and in places like these, began the preaching of
Christ's Gospel in this Western world —scenes and places soon exchanged
for the plain but spacious sanctuaries, which in a few generations dotted
all parts of the land. Thus were laid the foundations of the AMERICAN
PULPIT; for, although there had been settlements here of an earlier date,
the glorious institution of preaching was not fairly inaugurated until
the times to which we refer.
And the men to whom this honor belongs were not unworthy of
their high position, as the "fathers" of the American preachers. The
records of the times, their noble deeds, and the institutions upon which
they have left their impress, alike attest to their rare endowments.
These old Pilgrim and Puritan ministers were made and trained by God
to act as master-spirits in the most sublime undertakings. They were
men of dauntless courage and invincible faith. The words upon their
banner revealed their confidence and devotion-Qui transtulit sustinet
-"He who transplanted, sustains."t They were men of intelligence
and sound learning. Most of the preachers who came over with the
colonists had been educated in the Universities of Oxford and Cam.
bridge. They brought with them extensive libraries, and were close
students amid all their toils. It is said to have been no uncommon
thing for the early New England ministers to read from the Hebrew
and Greek Scriptures, at the ordinary morning and evening devotions
in their families.
In doctrine, the Puritans entertained the views of the great Reformers. The form of doctrine which Laud upheld and propagated, they
regarded with great dislike; but equally so the mysticism and Antinomianism which, in that age of excitement, broke out in various quarters.1
Their views were held with firmness, and insisted upon with great earn* This description of the first Sabbath on the Quinnipiack river is drawn from Bacon's
"Historical Discourses." The sermon preached by Davenport on the ocasion, was from
Yfatt. iv. 1, on "The temptation in the wilderness." The place is now New Haven.
t The motto upon the arms of Connecticut.
t LHooker's great sermon on the " Activity of Faith," is a sufficient confirmation,




THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.                      355
estness in their preaching. Hence we find their discourses to be, at the
same time, both strongly doctrinal and highly practical-insisting alike
upon God's sovereignty, and man's duty and accountability.
The mode of worship which they introduced was not materially unlike that which is now generally adopted. About nine o'clock the people came together at the blowing of a horn or the beating of a drum.
The pastor began with a solemn prayer, about a quarter of an hour in
length. The teacher then read and expounded a chapter. Then a
Psalm was sung, the lines being given out by the ruling elder. After
that, the pastor delivered his sermon, not written out in full, at least
not in all cases, but from notes enlarged upon in speaking. In some
churches, it was customary for the congregation to arise while the
preacher read his text, as a token of reverence for the word of God.
After the sermon, the teacher concluded with prayer and a blessing.
In the afternoon the same order was observed, but the sermon was generally preached by the teacher instead of the pastor.*
The method of sermonizing was, first to unfold the text historically
and critically; then raise from it a "doctrine;" then bring forward the
" proofs," either inferential or direct; then illustrate and justify it to the
understanding by the "reasons" drawn from the philosophy of the subject, or the nature of things; and finally, conclude with an " improt —
ment" by the way of "uses" or inferences, and timely "admonitions"
and " exhortations."  These applications, or uses and exhortations, often
formed the greater part of the discourse. In some cases they were
made under the different heads, as the preacher progressed in his discourse. It was a frequent practice to preach two or more sermons on
the same text; and to discuss the subject "negatively" and "affirmatively."  Nor were the preachers particularly cautious about "'long sermons" (and the same was true of the hearers), but spoke on till they
had completely exhausted the subject, even though the last sands of the
hour-glass had already fallen out.
The general character of their sermons was such as might have been
expected from men described by Hubbard and Higginson, as "Timothies, in their houses, Chrysostoms in their pulpits, and Augustines in
their disputations;" and from the sagacity and intelligence of the con.
gregations to whom they preached. None but anl able ministry would
have been tolerated. " It is as unnatural," said one of the men of these
times, "for a right New England man to live without an able ministry,
as for a smith to work his iron without a fire."
The demand which these shrewd and intelligent congregations made
upon their ministers was very great; and lest their energies should be
overtaxed and lose their necessary vigor and elasticity, it was arranged
that every congregation, as a general rule, should have two preachers,
who should share in the toil, and be mutual helpers to their own ira
* See Bacon's " Historical Discourses," pp. 45, 46.




356              THE AMERICAN PULPIT
provement and that of the flock. As a result, the pulpit productions
of the Puritans, though often marred by the faults of their age, were
generally of a decidedly superior order. The sermons of some of these
old preachers, which have come down to us, for cogency of reasoning,
and freshness, and depth of thought, and flashing illustration, and fervent appeal, and rousing, thrilling application, are rarely excelled in the
discourses of any country or time.
But the very greatness of the Puritan divines became the occasiot
of serious harm. Such were their superior talents and attainments, and
such was the deference felt for their opinions, that nothing was at.
tempted without their counsel and advice. They were, virtually, the
heads of the people. In civil things as well as sacred, they were con
suited; and matters generally took shape according to their views.
Now it so occurred that, with all their lofty qualities, these excellent men
were not entirely perfect. They were not wholly free from the errors
and false biases of the times. Far in advance of most men of their age,
they had not, nevertheless, fully worked out their master-principles to
their legitimate results. They held to the rights of conscience; and for
these rights they had contended and struggled in the land that gave
them birth; but they had failed to perceive the bearings of this doctrine,
and that the complete disseverance of things civil from things spiritual,
was essential to a due respect for the moral sense of each individual.
Ignorance or misconception at this point, in many cases, is a matter of small moment; but in this instance it proved fatal. When the
Massachusetts colony was in trouble about settling the affairs of the
Church and the Commonwealth, John Cotton, a tower of strength, was
asked to preach a sermon before the general court. The text he chose
was Haggai, ii 4: "Yet now be strong, O Zerubbabel," etc., and on
hearing his discourse, " all obstructions were presently removed, and the
spirits of all sorts, as one man, were excited unanimously."  The court
believed that the people were " to be governed conformably to the law
of God;" and desired Mr. Cotton "to draw an abstract of the judicial
laws delivered from God by Moses." This he did, " advising them to
persist in establishing a TWeocracy (i. e. God's government) over God's
people. The court followed his advice; and so " Moses and Aaron rejoiced and kissed each other in the mount of God."*
A law was passed that "no persons should be admitted to the
freedom of the body politic, but such as were members of some of the
churches within its limits."
In like manner, when the foundations of the New Haven Colony
were to be laid, " all the free planters met in Mr. Newman's barn," and
Mr. Davenport preached to them a sermon on the words " Wisdom hath
builded her house," etc.; after which they "unanimously voted that the
Scriptures do hold forth a perfect rule for the direction and governmenl
* See " Life of John Cotton," by Norton, pp. 46, 47, whence the citations are drawn.




THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.                      357
of men in all duties, as well in families and commonwealths, as in matters
of the Church." Upon Mr. Davenport's recommendation, it was also
voted, that " free burgesses lshall be chosen out of the Church members;
they that are in the foundation work of the Church, being actually free
burgesses; and to choose to themselves out of the like estate of Churchfellowship, and the power of choosing magistrates, etc., and the business
of like nature are to be transacted by these free burgesses."*
This fashioning of the Commonwealth to the setting forth of God's
house, as Mr. Cotton styled it, was certainly with the commendable design of founding " such civil order as might best conduce to the securing
of the purity and peace of the ordinances to themselves and their posterity according to God." But it was the parent evil of every unjustifiable
procedure, and of many of those disasters which subsequently befell the
ministry and the churches. Out of it grew those instances of persecution for opinion's sake which tarnish the bright pages of early American history. And out of it, as a main source, sprang that wonderful and
well-nigh universal defection in the pulpits and the congregations of
New England.
This inevitable degeneracy began to appear within the first half century of the colonies' existence. As early as 1660-70 we find complaints
of the decay of piety. In 1677 the support of the ministry in Connecticut was transferred from the churches to the town; and some one,
generally one of the deacons, was chosen to " make up the rate and appoint the delivery of it to the ministers, and to prosecute such as fail in
the payment." The fact is indicative of at least a lack of that warmth
of affection for those then serving in the pulpit, which was at first apparent, and of the decline of the power of religion.
About this time the theology of the New England ministry seems to,
have undergone a change most unfavorable to vital godliness. The
preaching was less pointed and earnest in its bearings upon the impenitent, and less marked by a deep evangelical spirit. Ministerial duty, as
a whole, became perfunctory and inefficient; the result almost of necessity incident upon making the minister, when once settled, independent
of his people. In 1702, Dr. Increase Mather, in a work entitled " The
Glory Departing from New England," says, " Look into the pulpits, and
see if there is such a glory there as once there was. New England has
had her teachers, eminent for learning, and no less eminent for holiness
and all ministerial accomplishments. There are ministers who are not
like their predecessors, nor principled, nor spiritual as they were. How
many churches, how many towns are there in New England, that we
may sigh over them and say the glory is departed!"
There is too much reason to believe that about this time, many of the
ministers were not even converted men. We say many, for the remark
is by no means true of the clergy as a whole. All through thlis lament
* Bacon's " Historical I)iscourses," pp. 20-22.




358              THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.
able declension, might have been found eminent and godly seivants of
the Most High, who bewailed the prevailing corruption, and longed for
the days of old. But, although to be taken with some grains of allow.
ance, the assertions of Whitfield, about 1740, and of Gilbert Tennent"
and others, leave little room to doubt that a large number of the occupants of the pulpits, had not felt the influence of Divine grace upon their
own hearts. It is not surprising that this should have been the case.
With men who cared little for religion (and theirs was the predominating
influence), it was enough that the preacher possessed education and
talents. They gave him their support all the more readily, because
he delivered pleasant moral essays rather than Gospel sermons. The
preachers of these times are described as, for the most part, " grave men
in speculation, orthodox, or moderately so, who went the customary
round of ministerial duties with a good degree of regularity; but whose
preaching lacked point, earnestness, application. Their devotional services lacked warmth and spirituality; their people slumbered and they
slumbered with them, and an aspect of moral desolation and death, was
spread over the congregations and churches where they labored."t
We have alluded to a single cause by which this lamentable state of
things was induced-the unnatural alliance between the Church and the
State. There were several other causes which powerfully tended to this
result; some of which need not be named. We glance at two or three
of the more prominent; adopting, as a concise statement, the narrative
given in the work last cited. Referring to this blending of things spiritual
with things temporal, the learned author observes that, " It held out a
sort of premium for hypocrisy. For all who wished to enjoy the privilege of freemen, would of course determine to become members of the
Church; and as this could be permitted only on a profession of piety,
they would be strongly tempted tc make such a profession without the
requisite qualifications. Those, on the other hand, who had too much
conscience to do this, or who having applied for admission to the Church,
were rejected, would of course be decidedly opposed to the existing order of the churches, and exert all their influence to overthrow it. They
deeply felt the privations to which they were subjected; and as they
considered them wholly unjust and oppressive, they loudly complained
of them, and as early as 1646, petitioned not only the courts of the Colonies, but the British Parliament, praying, as they say, in' behalf of thousands,' that they might enjoy with others the rights and privileges of
freemen.
"In the mean time the ministers and churches sympathizing with
this class of men in the disabilities under which they labored, were
* He preached a sermon from Mark, vi. 34, " On the Danger of an Unconverted
Ministry."
t See a "'Tribute to the Memory of the Pilgrims," by Joel Hawes, IP D., 1artford
Conn., pp. 163, 154.




THE AMERICAN   ULPIT.                     359
strongly inclined to extend relief to them. The proper way of doing
this was to abolish the law which they had so unwisely enacted. But
this was deemed sacred. In these embarrassing circumstances, a powerful temptation was presented to lower the terms of the admission to the
Church, and to receive persons to communion on slight and insufficient
evidence of piety. The result was, that not a few, as we have reason to
believe, were early introduced into the churches who, though in the
main correct in sentiment and moral in conduct, were strangers to
the power of godliness, and averse to the duties of strict religion. Their
influence was like an incubus on the vitals of the Church. It tended to
depress the tone of piety, and to infuse a spirit of formality and worldliness into the services of religion.
" The next cause to be specified was the introduction of the half-way
covenant. This strange anomaly in religion sprung from the law, the
mischief of which I have just described. From natural increase and
emigration from abroad, the class of persons in the Colonies, not
qualified to profess religion, soon became numerous. MIany of these
were highly respectable for their talents and general worth of character;
and it was felt to be a hardship that they should be deprived of the
privileges enjoyed by others around them, and especially that they
should be denied the right of baptism for their children, which they had
always enjoyed in their native land. To obviate these difficulties was
the object of the half-way covenant. It provided that all persons of
sober life and correct sentiments, without being examined as to a change
of heart, might profess religion, or become members of the Church, and
have their children baptized, though they did not come to the Lord's
table. The plan originated in Connecticut. It was formally discussed
and adopted at a meeting of ministers in Boston, in 1657, and ratified
anew in all in its essential features, by a general synod in 1662.
"This mischievous measure, however, was from the first strongly
opposed by many of the most eminent ministers in the country, and by
a still larger number of the churches; and in this state it was not adopted by a single church till 1696. But it afterward prevailed extensively
throughout New England, and wherever it did prevail, the consequences
were eminently unhappy.  Great numbers came forward to own the
covenant, as it was called, and had their children baptized, but very few
joined the Church in full communion, or partook of the sacrament; satisfied with being half way in the Church, and enjoying a part of its privi-.eges, they settled down in a state of dull and heartless formality; and
felt little or no concern respecting their present condition or future prospects. They had found a place within the pale of the visible Church,
which, while it relieved them from the necessity of repentance and a life
of holy obedience, quieted them in their sins, and gave them a comfortable but deceitful hope of heaven. By receiving into covenant conneetion such numnbers of unsanctified persons, the moral energy of the




360              THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.
churches was destroyed; their distinctive character, as holy (ommumi
ties, was swept away; the discipline of the Gospel could no longer be
maintained; nor the doctrines nor the duties of the Gospel be preached
and enforced with that clearness and directness whiel are requisite to
give them effect on the heart and life.
" This state of things prepared the way for another step in the progress of decline. About the year 1700, Mr. Stoddard, a distinguished
minister of Northampton, inferred, with apparent justness, that those
who in virtue of their covenant connection with the Church, had a right
to receive baptism for their children, had an equal right to the Lord's
Supper. This led him on to another conclusion, that the Lord's Supper
is among the appointed means of regeneration; a converting ordinance;
that all persons ought to come to this ordinance, for the same reason
that they ought to attend public worship, or read the Bible; and consequently that a profession of piety is not to be required as a qualification
for communion in the Church. This doctrine, like the half-way covenant,
was at first far from being generally approved either by the ministers or
churches. It was regarded as a dangerous innovation, and as directly
opposed to the principles and practice of almost all the churches in New
England. The matter was publicly controverted between Mr. Stoddard
and Dr. Increase Mather of Boston. But'owing to Mr. Stoddard's
great influence over the people of Northampton, it was introduced there;
and by degrees it spread very much among ministers and people in that
country, and in other parts of New England.'
" The great principle adopted by the pilgrims in the organization of
their churches, and by which alone their purity could be preserved, was
now gone. Piety was no longer regarded as an essential qualification
for membership in the Church. Unconverted persons, those who knew
themselves to be such, were received as members of the spiritual body
of Christ, and admitted without examination or restraint, to the special,
sealing ordinances of the Gospel. This practice'brought in the first
great apostacy of the Christian Church;' and wherever it was adopted
in New England, the influence was deplorable. The churches in which
it prevailed ceased to be, even in profession, societies of sanctified per.
sons; and composed of a strange mixture of the holy with the unholy,
they soon lost their vital energies, and sunk into a state of great formality and coldness.
"As another cause of decline, I venture to mention the custom of
supporting religion by law. The ministers of New England were at first
supported by voluntary contributions, usually made at the close of public
service on the Sabbath, but this method being found inconvenient and
defective, a law was early passed, requiring all to pay for the support of
the Gospel in proportion to their property. This law, with some modi.
fications, continued in force for more than a hundred and fifty years, and
while the country was thinly settled, and the people were nearly all of




THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.                     361
the same denomination, the law, it can not be doubted, was productive
of much good. It secured to the community a much greater amount of
religious instruction than could have been expected from mere voluntary
associations for the support of the Gospel, but that the good was coun.
terbalanced by no small amount of avil, can not, I think, be reasonably
questioned. The law, especially in its earliest provisions, did in fact create a religious establishment. It recognized the Congregational churches
as the established churches of the State, and secured to them the special
patronage and support of the civil power. What then should prevent
the churches of New England from experiencing, at least in some meas.
ure, the disastrous effects which have always resulted from ecclesiastical
establishments? The ministers and churches lay recumbent on the civil
arm, and slumbered in a deceitful security, derived from the protection
and support of law. They did not feel their dependence on God, as they
would in other circumstances, nor pray, nor act with that humility and
decision in promoting the cause of religion which they would have had
under a due impression of the great truth that salvation is only of the
Lord."
Such was the state of things at the period under review. The Amer.
ican pulpit had lost its original might. The ministers had not yet renounced the creed of their fathers, but though in the main orthodox in
sentiment, and upright in life, they were greatly deficient in the spirit
and power of their holy profession. "Their fault was not so much that
they preached error, as that they did not preach the truth —at least not
with that discrimination and force which were necessary to give it effect
in the conversion and moral improvement of man."
WVTith the opening of the year 1735, it pleased the Lord to begin to
pour out His Spirit in a wonderful manner. The work of grace commenced in Northampton, where the celebrated Jonathan Edwards was
then laboring. Its immediate occasion seems to have been a series of
sermons which he preached on the doctrine of justification by faith.* It
soon extended into the adjacent region, spreading even to many of the
towns in Connecticut. It began in Boston in 1740, and in that and the
three following years, prevailed in more than one hundred and fifty congregations in New England, and some of the Middle and Southern States,
to a great extent through the powerful preaching of George Whitfield,
who arrived in Philadelphia in November, 1739, and began to preach in
New England in September, 1740. It is estimated that in two or three
years of the revival thirty or forty thousand souls were converted iN
New England alone.t In that part of the country one hundred and fifty
Congregational churches were formed within twenty years. The number of Presbyterian ministers had increased from forty-five to one hundred, saying nothing of the Baptists, and some other denominations,
which at this time bega;i greatly to increase.
*' Faithful Narrative," pp 36, 37.  o  Trumbull's History of Connecticut, vol. i., p. 8




362               THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.
In the progress of this great awakening many ministers were soundly
converted, and the majority of those already pious were quickened to
new life. Not to speak of the more prominent preachers in these glorious times, such as Edwards, and Prince, and the Tennents, and Davies,
it is certain that the ministry as a whole, was highly effective, as com.
pared with the past. What is perhaps more important, it reformed the
public opinion as to the right of a man to enter the sacred office before
he dad given evidence of a positive change of heart. It established also
the doctrine of justification by faith-the doctrine, as says Luther, by
which a Church must stand or fall.
After continuing for some years, this great attention to the subject of
religion gradually subsided, and the American pulpits and churches, in.
stead of reflecting the sunshine of heaven, were destined to be again enveloped in thick shadows. A different set of unfavorable influences now
began to operate. Prominent among these were the excesses which had
characterized in some instances, the progress of the great revival. One
way which Satan has of undoing, is by overdoing. In the ministry of
that day there were those whose zeal outran their knowledge. Puffed
up with success, they denounced as " dumb dogs" those who could not
endorse all their views and measures, and by this means widened the
already existing breach between different ministers as to the matter of
revivals, and brought a reproach upon the Christian profession. A large
number of ministers and churches, because of this rampant fanaticism,
took a permanent and decided stand against special religious awakenings,
and those doctrines which are generally blessed of God in producing
them —a circumstance which supplied points of connection for the ap
proaching departure from the faith which is in Jesus.
Then came the French war and the war of the Revolution; the first
of which lasted from  1755 to 1763. During this period, the public
mind was called off from religion, and absorbed with the safety and interests of the nation. In the mean time, a multitude of foreign officers
and soldiers overspread the land, whose corrupt principles and poisonous
sentiments sowed the seeds of irreligion and infidelity. The war of the
Revolution, also, not only engrossed the attention of all classes, but resulted in the complete initiation of thousands into the mysteries of
French philosophy, with whom the very name of religion became a
scoff and a by-word. It was, for the time being, specially disastrous
upon the Churches, whose houses of worship were often burned or
turned into barracks or stables; and upon the ministers, against whom,
fiom their known influence, the malice of the hostile forces was particularly directed. It does not seem surprising that, in such an age, religion declined and a frost settled upon the pulpit. In 1785 the number
of parishes in Boston was actually less than half a century before.
It was during the time of this divided state of the churches, this
decay of piety, and this unsettled condition of political affairs (ana




THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.                      363
partly as a direct result), that the views of a large portion of the New
England clergy ripened into positive Unitarianism. Indications of a
veering from the doctrine of the Divine Trinity, as usually held, may be
seen at least as far back as a quarter of a century previous to the close
of the Revolutionary struggle. Freedom of inquiry began to be the
theme of general praise. Creeds were becoming objects of suspicion
The distinguishing doctrines of the Scriptures were touched lightly, or
alluded to as the deep things of God, which the Spirit of God alone
can search out, and about which, if mentioned at all, it is not well to be
wise above that which is written.*
An edition of Emlyn's "Humble Inquiry" —an elaborate attack
upon the Deity of the Redeemer-appeared in Boston, 1756.  Bellamy, in 1760, speaks of the remodeling of the Shorter Catechism in
New Hampshire, "even to omit the Trinity;" and of a " celebrated
doctor of divinity at the head of a large party in Boston, boldly ridiculing the doctrine of the Trinity, and denying the doctrine of justification by faith alone."
In 1787 the first Unitarian congregation was formed in America,
gathering around James Freeman, in Boston, as their pastor. In 1789
Freeman, in a letter to Belsham, the leader of Socinianism in England,
observed that there were " many churches in which the worship was
strictly Unitarian." A few years later, writing to the same individual,
he said he knew " a number of ministers, particularly in the Southern
part of Massachusetts, who avowed and publicly preached the Unitarian
doctrine; while others contented themselves with leading their hearers,
by a course of rational and prudent sermons, gradually and insensibly
to embrace it."
From time to time. earnest words were spoken in high placeo, defending the ancestral faith, and admonishing all of the " rapid current
which, without a breath of air, was wafting them away." Btt men
of shining talents were rising up to preach with " charming accents" a
more liberal Gospel, and draw after them the multitude; wbhle death
was dismantling, one by one, the few towers of strength on which yet
floated the banner of the Pilgrims. In the mean while, the vacant professorship of divinity in Harvard College, founded by Hollis, a London
merchant, at once a Calvinist and a Baptist, for the support of a professor " of sound orthodox principles," was filled by a man distinguished
for his supposed and undisclaimed Unitarianism, which gave rise to the
retiring of one of the indignant professors, and caused to rage more
madly than before the sea of strife. In 1810 the presidency of the college was given to one who was a fine scholar, but who spincd whatever
was mysterious in religion, and opened his academic career ty- attending
a ball which was given by the students. Dr. Dwight did'%,f hesitate 1 )
* See Eliot's Ordination Sermon in 1754.




864              THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.
say of Boston this same year, that " Unitarianism seemed to be the pre
dominating system." A few years later, but two churches in that city
adhered to the orthodox standard. But it is to be observed that here
was its chief seat; for, according to the best data, the Unitarian ministers of all Massachusetts were not more than seventy-five, while the
orthodox were more than two hundred. It should also be borne in
nind, that this wonderful change in doctrinal belief was, at this time,
almost wholly confined to the New England States.
The preaching of the period now brought under review was remark.
able for other peculiarities besides its doctrinal aspect, properly so called.
At first, it dropped out, by degrees, the clear annunciation of those
principles of revelation which are repugnant to the natural heart, and
became smooth and deceptive. Truth, instead of being set forth in a
bold, explicit manner, was dealt out cautiously, and was softened down,
or concealed, lest it should excite opposition. Sermons were barren of
evangelical sentiment and feeling; and if doctrines were preached, they
were not presented in their fullness, and in their legitimate bearings, so
as to arouse the heart and the conscience, and humble the sinner in the
dust before God. How natural the next step —to regard these doctrines
as of little practical importance-and the next, wholly to reject them! Of
course, there were many and brilliant exceptions; but, to a wide extent,
the pulpit, at the time of which we speak, taught chiefly those lessons
of morality which are founded upon such general truths of natural religion, and such facts of evangelical history, as had never been questioned by any one claiming the name of a Christian. Indeed, it dared
not venture much further; for the fear lest freedom of thought should
be fettered, and lest something should be received which could not be
fully comprehended, had so long operated as to destroy the sense of
certainty in the interpretation of the Scriptures, and lead to the simple
exposition of the rules of upright life, and the acknowledged truths of
revelation.
But we turn with pleasure to the brighter side of the American pulpit. The defection which we have traced was not suffered to go forward
without powerful counteracting influences. The first of the influences
which we name, was a glorious revival of religion; beginning in 1790,
in Dr. Baldwin's church, Boston; and soon spreading into Dr. Stillman's,
and thence into Rev. Mr. Thacher's, and many other congregations.
In the year 1795 Dr. Dwight came to the presidency of Yale College.
From that time, the churches began to be conversant with a higher
order of preaching. The young men, who took upon themselves the
mold of their instructor, were soon upon the stage, exerting their elevating influence. The sermons and lectures of President Dwight upon
the evidences and doctrines of revelation, did much to dissipate the
thick and heavy atmosphere of doubt, and reveal the temple of truth
as unshaken as ever, in spite of the fearful assaults of error. The Spirit




THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.                     365
of God also came down upon the college and the surrounding churches,
ar ointing afresh and greatly multiplying the ministers of salvation, and
awakening an evangelical spirit in every direction. The sentiments of
Roger Williams, as to the entire freedom of the churches from civil
connection and control, had come to be generally adopted. Shortly
after the Revolution, the union of Church and State in the Southern
States-the Episcopal having been the established order-came to
an end. It was brought about, mainly, by the Baptists and Presby
terians, aided by Jefferson. The separation was not complete in Connecticut until 1818; and in Massachusetts not until 1833. It is also
worthy of note that an orthodox Magazine, the " Panoplist," had arisen —
and, at a later date, the " Spirit of the Pilgrims" —and was doing faithful
service in the cause of truth. The Theological Seminary at Andover,
also, had sprung into being; and the muffled step of the innovating
bands had felt itself compelled to halt, as if it had stumbled, all at once,
on the unseen outposts of a hidden battalion. Just at this time, too, a
few young Elijahs had " prayed into existence the embryo of American
missions,' and in 1810 declared their intention to go far hence to the
Gentiles. The founding of the different boards of missions and other
benevolent institutions-the glory of our age-was as the resurrection
of the ministers and churches to a new existence.
From that day to this, the American pulpit has rapidly gained in
efficiency. Fervor, intelligence, and life, began to breathe through the
ministrations of the sanctuary. With the disruption in the New Eng.
land churches, when each pastor took a distinct position, either on the
side of the Orthodox, or of Unitarians, came additional strength. Many
a hard battle was afterward fought by the champions of the two systems, but generally with the result of revealing a wider distinction between their views, and making it more apparent that the real question
at issue was, whether revealed or natural religion was to be our guide
and hope. Meanwhile, the great heart of the community, unsatisfied with a religion of cold and barren generalities, was panting to
see once more, "the reconciling cross and the incarnate God." Age,
and change, and death had plucked away many of the jewels that glit
tered in the crown of the liberal religion, and the congregations of
the evangelical belief increased, while those of the opposite faith decayed. Preaching became, year by year, more thoroughly Biblical
and powerful in its character. There was less of time-serving, and lax
accommodation: and far more of that clearness and force, that cogency
of argument, and closeness and fervency of appeal, which is blessed to
the building up of the churches in holiness and purity and love.
The present number of ministers, actually engaged in preaching, in
the United States, in connection with the different Evangelical de.
nominations, is upward of twenty-eight thousand. They are thus distributed: Protestant Episcopal, one thousand seven hundred and fifty.




866                THE AMERICAN PULPIT
two; Congregational, one thousand eight hundred and forty-eight; Bap.
tist, eight thousand five hundred and twenty-five; Presbyterian, Old
and New  school, including also the Reformed Dutch, Associate and
Cumberland Presbyterians, German Reformed, etc., five thousand nine
hundred and forty-one; Methodist, in the several branches, eight thou.
sand three hundred and eighty-nine. The Moravians, Mennonites, etc.,
include alsc, many faithful preachers. The number of Unitarian clergymen, at the present time, is about two hundred and sixty.*
The American clergy, as a body, are laborious, earnest, intelligent,
faithful, and God-fearing men. In no country is the ministry more re.
spected or more influential. There never was a more groundless assertion
than that of a foreign Journal, which charged them with being " timid,
backward, time-serving, self-exiled, and blind to their noble mission."t
There is, doubtless, room for improvement. In the opinion of some,
so far as the great object of preaching is concerned, the American pul.
pit is not on the advance, but on the other hand, becoming more inefficient. All will agree that a more deeply spiritual, self-forgetful, urgent,
effective ministry is loudly called for. But if the essentials of good
preaching are instructiveness, warmth, energy, dignity, boldness, tenderness, pathos, chaste language, and high spirituality, then is the pul.
pit of the United States, as a whole, second to that of no country on
the globe. Every thing favors such preaching. Our Academic, Col.
legiate, and Theological Institutions take rank with the best of those in
other countries; so that ministers need not be deficient in sound learn.
ing. The incubus of no State-church establishment hangs upon us.
Our common schools educate the public mind and render necessary an
intelligent ministry. The instincts of the American people, and the
genius of our free institutions, tend to freedom of inquiry and a wide
range of knowledge. The masses read, and inquire, and investigate,
and discuss, and vote, and make laws, and think for themselves. That
the pulpit influences such a people is proof of its power.
The style of preaching is far from uniform. The planters of New
England, as before remarked, did not, ordinarily, write out in full their
discourses, though this was often the case. The custom became more
common in after-years among the Congregational churches, where it
has since almost universally obtained. With the ministers of the Pres.
byterian, Reformed Dutch, and Episcopalian churches, the habit of fully
writing out their discourses also prevails. With those of the Baptist
* We have adopted the statistics of Dr. Baird, in his statement as to Religion in
America, made to the Evangelical Alliance in Paris, 1855. He includes among the Baptist ministers some fifteen hundred who are not properly so called. He also does not
embrace in the Methodists, some twelve thousand "local preachers," and eight hundred
superannuated ministers.  In all the denominations 7ore vL  many ministers not
engaged in preaching: such as professors, e'tors, secre-t - -
t British and Foreign Magazine, 1840.




THE AMERICAN  PULPIT.                      367
denomination it is becoming quite common, especially in the New England and Midd.e States. The Methodist clergy almost universally adhere
to the extemporaneous form of address. The expository method of sermonizing, though often practiced, does not prevail in this country, to
the extent that could be desired. The habit of distributing the subject
into its natural parts, and announcing the heads and divisions, is very
general.
The preaching of the American pulpit may be said to be rather
practical and experimental than doctrinal. The formal discussion of
Scripture doctrines is certainly less frequent at the present time, than
in the age of the Puritans, and during the first quarter of this century.
The argumentative feature, partly by consequence, is also less prominent. But the American school of pulpit eloquence is less oratorical, imaginative, and impassioned than that of the German or French, though
far more solid and instructive. It patterns somewhat closely to the
English and Scottish school; where passion is thought to be uncalled for,
or at least not essential, since religion is powerful and majestic of itself,
and needs only to be explained to the understanding. This is true,
however, of the preaching of some denominations to a far greater extent than of others. Perfection lies, we should say, in the blending of
the warmth, brilliancy, energy, and pathos of the French and German
style, with the solidity, depth, and masculine strength of the Scottish
and English school. Perhaps it is not presumption to say, that the pui.
pit of no country approximates more nearly to this standard of excel.
lence, than the American.
The pulpit of the United States is already rich in the productions
which it has given to the world. Recent as is its date, it has afforded
many examples of the highest order of preaching. In the sermons of
the men of no age or country, are to be found finer models of pure
classic style, of manly eloquence, of sober, instructive thought, and of
earnest appeals, adapted to arouse the conscience of the transgressor, or
warm the heart of the believer, than in the discourses of Edwards, and
Davies, and Emmons, and Dwight, and Buckminster, and Maxcy, and
Griffin, and Olin, and Mason, and Bedell, and others, not to name any
of the divines now living. It should also be observed that many eloquent preachers have left little or nothing behind them in the form of
printed sermons.
In all that adorns the character of the servants of Jesus Christ; in all
that ensures the approbation of God, and the power of the Divile Spirit;
and in all that sanctifies, enriches and elevates the race, may the fature
of the American pulpit be not unworthy of the past!




DISCO URSE  SIXTY FIFTH.
THOMAS HOOKER.
THE " father of the Connecticut churches" was born about the yoea
1580, in Marfield, Leicestershire, England, and educated at Emmanuel
College, Cambridge. After teaching and preaching some time with great
success, he was silenced for non-conformity, and in 1630 was obliged to
flee to Holland. In 1633, he came to New England in company with MIr.
Cotton and Mir. Stone, and settled at first, near Boston, Massachusetts. In
1636, he removed with a few others to a fertile spot on the banks of the
Connecticut river, which they called Hartford; having traveled through
the wilderness with no other guide than a compass. Here he had great
influence in establishing the colony. He died in 1647. Some of his
sermons were sent to England and published.
Cotton Mather, in his "Magnalia," calls Hooker " the Light of the
Western churches; and the pillar of the Connecticut colony." His
preaching, he says, " was notably set off with a liveliness extraordinary."
Judging from the few specimens of his preaching which we have seen,
we should estimate his powers as quite remarkable. His language is
pure Saxon, and his style clear, direct, and convincing. The first part
of the sermon we have selected, where he proves his subject negatively,
is omitted from its very great length. It is copied from an old volume
of his sermons, bearing date, London, 1651. It reminds one of Baxter.
THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH; OR, ABRAHAM'S IMITATORS.
"And the father of circumcision to them who are not of circumcision only, but also
walk in the steps of that faith of our father Abraham, which he had, being yet uncir%
cumcized." —RoMAhs, iv. 12.
I proceed now to show who those are, that may, and do indeed,
receive benefit as Abraham did. The text saith, " They that walk
in the steps of that faith of Abraham:" that man that not only enr




THE ACTIVITY  OF FAITH.                  369
joyeth the privileges of the Church, but yieldeth the obedience of
faith, according to the Word of God revealed, and walketh in obedience, that man alone shall be blessed with faithful Abraham.
Two points may be here raised, but I shall hardly handle them
both; therefore I will pass over the first only with a touch, and that
lieth closely couched in the text.
That Faith causeth fruitfulness in the hearts and lives of those in
whom it is.
Mark what I say, a faithful man, is a fruitful man; faith
enableth a man to be doing. Ask the question, by what power was
it whereby Abraham was enabled to yield obedience to the Lord?
The text answereth you, "Thev that walk in the footsteps" not of
Abraham, but " in the footsteps of the faith of Abraham."  A man
would have thought the text should have run thus: They that walk
in the footsteps of Abraham. That is true, too, but the apostle had
another end; therefore he saith, "They that walk in the footsteps of
the faith of Abraham," implying, that it was the grace of faith that
God bestowed on Abraham, that quickened and enabled him to
every duty that God required of him, and called him to the performance of. So that I say, the question being, whence came it that
Abraham was so fruitful a Christian, what enabled him to do and to
suffer what he did? surely it wasfaith that was the cause that produced such effects, that helped him to perform such actions. The
point then you see is evident, faith is it that causeth fruit.
Hence it is, that of almost all the actions that a Christian hath to
do, faith is still said to be the worker. If a man pray as he should,
it is " the prayer of faith."  If a man obey as he should, it is the
obedience of faith. If a man war in the Church militant, it is " the
fight of faith." If a man live as a Christain and holy man, he
" liveth by faith." Nay, shall I say yet more, if he did as he ought,
"he dieth by faith."  "These all died in faith."  What is that?
The power of faith that directed and ordered them in the cause of
their death, furnished them with grounds and principles of assurance
of the love of God, made them carry themselves patiently in death.
I can say no more, but with the apostle, " Examine yourselves,
whether ye be in the faith." Why doth not the apostle say, Examine whether faith be in you, but " whether ye be in the faith?" Hie
meaning is, that as a man is said to be in drink, or to be in
love, or to be in passion, that is, under the command of drink,
or love, or passion; so the whole man must be under the command of
faith (as you shall see more afterward). If he prays, faith must indite
his prayer; if he obey, faith must work; if he live, it is faith that
24




870                  THOMAS HOOKER.
must quicken him; and if he die, it is faith that must order him in
death. And wheresoever faith is, it will do wonders in the soul of
that man where it is, it can not be idle; it will have footsteps, it sets
the whole man on work; it moveth feet, and hands, and eyes, and
all parts of the body. Mark how the apostle disputeth: " We
having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I believed,
and therefore have I spoken, we also believe, and therefore speak."
The faith of the apostle, which he had in his heart, set his tongue
a going. If a man have faith within, it will break forth at his
mouth. This shall suffice for the proof of the point; I thought to
have pressed it further, but if I should, I see the time would prevent me.
The use, therefore, in a word, is this: if this be so, then it falleth
foul, and is a heavy bill of indictment against many that live in the
bosom of the Church. Go thy ways home, and read but this text,
and consider seriously but this one thing in it: That whosever is
the son of Abraham, hath faith, and whosoever hath faith, is
a walker, is a marker; by the footsteps of faith you may see where
faith hath been. Will not this, then, I say, fall marvelous heavy
upon many souls that live in the bosom of the Church, who are
confident, and put it out of all question, that they are true believers,
and make no doubt but what they have faith? But look to it,
wheresoever faith is, it is fruitful. If thou art fruitless, say what
thou wilt, thou hast no faith at all. Alas, these idle drones, these
idle Christians, the Church is too full of them I Men are continually
hearing, and yet remain fruitless and unprofitable; whereas if there
were more faith in the world, we should have more work done in
the world; faith would set feet, and hands, and eyes, and all on
work. Men go under the name of professors, but alas I they are but
pictures; they stir not a whit; mark, where you found them in the
beginning of the year, there you shall find them in the end of the
year, as profane, as worldly, as loose in their conversations, as
formal in duty as ever. And is this faith? 0  faith would work
other matters, and provoke a soul to other passages than these.
But you will say, may not a man have faith, and not that fruit
you speak of?  May not a man have a good heart to Godward, although he can not find that ability in matter of fruitfulness?
My brethren, be not deceived; such an opinion is a mere delusion
of Satan; wherever faith is it bringeth Christ into the soul; mark
that, "Whosoever believeth, Christ dwelleth in his heart by faith.
And if Christ be in you," saith the apostle, "the body is dead, be.
cause of sin. but the spirit is life, because of righteousness." If




THE ACTIVITY  OF FAITH.                   371
Christ be in you, that is, whosoever believeth in the Lord Jesus,
Christ dwells in such a man by faith; now if Christ be in the soul,
the body can not be dead; but a man is alive, and quick, and active
to holy duties, ready, and willing, and cheerful in the performance
of whatsoever God requireth, Christ is not a dead Saviour, nor the
Spirit a dead Spirit: the second Adam is made a quickening
spirit. And wherever the spirit is, it works effects suitable to itself.
The spirit is a spirit of purity, a spirit of zeal, and where it is it
maketh pure and zealous. When a man will say he hath faith, and
in the mean time can be content to be idle and unfruitful in the
work of the Lord, can be content to be a dead Christian, let him
know that his case is marvelously fearful: for if faith were in him
indeed it would appear; ye can not keep your good hearts to yourselves; wherever fire is it will burn, and wherever faith is it can not
be kept secret. The heart will be enlarged, the soul quickened, and
there will be a change in the whole life and conversation, if ever
faith takes place in a man. I will say no more of this, but proceed
to the second point arising out of the affirmative part.
You will say, what fruit is it then?  Or how shall a man know
what is the true fruit of faith, indeed, whereby he may discern his
own estate?  I answer, the text will tell you: " He that walketh in
the footsteps of that faith of Abraham." By footsteps are meant the
works, the actions, the holy endeavors of Abraham; and where those
footsteps are there is the faith of Abraham. So that the point of
instruction hence is thus much (which indeed is the main drift of
the apostle),
That, Every faithful man may, yea doth imitate the actions of faithful Abraham.
Mark what I say; I say again, this is to be the son of Abraham,
not because we are begotten of him by natural generation, for so
the Jews are the sons of Abraham; but Abraham is our father because he is the pattern for the proceeding of our faith. ", Thy father
was an Amorite," saith the Scripture: that is, thou followest the steps
of the Amorites in thy conversation. So is Abraham called the
"father of the faithful," because he is the copy of their course,
whom they must follow in those services that God calleth for. So
the point is clear, every faithful man may, yea doth, and must imitate the actions of faithful Abraham. It is Christ's own plea, and
He presseth it as an undeniable truth upon the hearts of the Scribes
and Pharisees, that bragged very highly of their privileges and prerogatives, and said, " Abraham is our father." No, saith Christ, " If
ye were Abraham's children ye would do the works of Abraham."




83'2               THOMAS HOOKER.
To be like Abraham in constitution, to be one of his blood, is I.(r
that which makes a man a son of Abraham, but to be like him in
holiness of affection, to have a heart framed and a life disposed answerably to his. The apostle in like manner presseth this point
when he would provoke the Hebrews. to whom he wrote, to follow
the examples of the Saints: " Whose faith (says he) follow, con.
sidering the end of their conversation." So the Apostle Peter press.
eth the example of Sarah upon all good women: "Whose daughter
ye are (saith he) as long as ye do well."
For the opening of the point, and that ye may more clearly understand it, a question here would be resolved, what were " the footsteps of the faith of Abraham?" which way went he? This is a
question, I say, worthy the scanning, and therefore (leaving the
further confirmation of the point, as being already evident enough)
I will come to it that so you may know what to pitch and settle
your hearts upon.
I answer, therefore, there are six footsteps of the faith of Abra.
ham, which are the main things wherein every faithful man must do
as Abraham did, in the work of faith-I mean in his ordinary course;
for if there be any thing extraordinary no man is bound to imitate
him therein; but in the works of faith, I say, which belongeth to all
men, every man must imitate Abraham in these six steps, and then
he is in the next door to happiness, the very next neighbor, as I may
say, to heaven.
The first step which Abraham took in the ways of grace and
happiness, you shall observe to be a yielding to the call of God.
Mark what God said to Abraham: "Get thee out of thy country,
and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto a land that
I will show thee; and Abraham departed," saith the text, " as the
Lord had spoken unto him," even when he was an idolater; he is
content to lay aside all and let the command of God bear the sway;
neither friends, nor kindred, nor gods can keep him back, but he
presently stoopeth to the call of God. So it is, my brethren, with
every faithful man. This is his first step: he is contented to be under
the rule and power of God's command. Let the Lord call for him,
require any service of him, his soul presently yieldeth, and is content to be framed and fashioned to God's call, and returneth an obedient answer thereto; he is content to come out of his sins, and out
of himself, and to receive the impressions of the Spirit. This is
that which God requireth, not only of Abraham, but of all believers:
"Whosoever will be my disciple (saith Christ) must forsake father,
and mother and children, and houses, and lands; yea, and he irusl




THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH.                  373
deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me." This is the
first step in Christianity, to lay down our own honors, to trample
upon our own respects, to submit our necks to the block, as it were,
and whatever God commands, to be content that His good pleasure
should take place with us.   *    *    *
The next step that Abraham, and so every faithful soul, sets forward, is this: that whenever faith cometh powerfully into the heart,
the soul is not content barely to yield to the command of God, but
it breatheth after His mercy, longeth for His grace, prizeth Christ
and salvation above all things in the world, is satisfied and contented
with nothing but with the Lord Christ, and although it partake of
many things below, and enjoy abundance of outward comforts, yet
it is not quieted till it rest and pitch itself upon the Lord, and find
and feel that evidence and assurance of his love, which He hath
promised unto and will bestow on those who love Him. As for all
things here below, he hath but a slight, and mean, and base esteem
of them. This you shall see apparent in Abraham. "Fear not,
Abraham (saith God), I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward." What could a man desire more? One would think that tho
Lord makes a promise here large enough to Abraham, "I will be
thy buckler, and exceeding great reward."  Is not Abraham contented with this?  No; mark how he pleadeth with God: "Lord
God (saith he), what wilt Thou give me, seeing I go childless?" IIis
eye is upon the promise that God had made to him of a son, of whom
the Saviour of the world should come. " Oh Lord, what wilt Thou
give me?" as if he had said, What wilt Thou do for me? alas! nothing will do my soul good unless I have a son, and in him a Saviour.
What will become of me so long as I go childless, and so Saviourless, as I may so speak? You see how Abraham's mouth was out
of taste with all other things, how he could relish nothing, enjoy
nothing in comparison of the promise, though he had otherwise what
he would, or could desire. Thus must it be with every faithful man.
That soul never had, nor never shall have Christ, that doth not prize
Him above all things in the world.   *    * 
The third step of Abraham's faith was this, he casteth himself and
flingeth his soul, as I may say, upon the a'l-sufficient power and
mercy of God for the attainment of what he desireth; he rolleth and
tumbleth himself, as it were, upon the all-sufficiency of God. This
you shall find in Rom. iv. 18, there saith the apostle, speaking of
Abraham, whb  "against hope, believed in hope;" that is, when there
was no hope in the world, yet he believed in God, even above hope;
and so made it possible. It was an object of his hope, that it might




374                 THOMAS HOOKER.
be in regard of God, howsoever there was no possibility in regard of
man. So the text saith, " he considered not his own body now dead,
when he was about an hundred years old, neither yet the deadness
of Sarah's womb, but was strong in faith." He cast himself wholly
upon the precious promise and mercy of God.
This, then, is the third step of true justifying faith, that when the
believer is informed touching the excellency of the Lord Jesus, and
that fullness that is to be had in Him, though he can not find the
sweetness of His mercy, though he can not or dare not apprehend
and apply it to himself, though he find nothing in himself, yet he is
still resolved to rest upon the Lord, and to stay himself on the God
of his-salvation, and to wait for His mercy till he find Him gracious
to his poor soul. Excellent and famous is the example of the woman
of Canaan. When Christ, as it were, beat her off, and took up arms
against her, was not pleased to reveal Himself graciously to her for
the present, " I am not sent (saith He), but to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel; and it is not meet to take the children's bread, and
to cast it to the dogs:" mark how she replied, " Truth, Lord, I confess all that; yet notwithstanding, the dogs eat of the crumbs that
fall from their master's table." Oh, the excellency, and strength, and
work of her faith! She comes to Christ for mercy, He repelleth her,
reproacheth her, tells her she is a dog; she confesseth her baseness,
yet is not discouraged for all that, but still resteth upon the goodness
and mercy of Christ, and is mightily resolved to have mercy whatsoever befalleth her. Truth, Lord, I confess I am as bad as Thou
canst term me, yet I confess, too, that there is no comfort but from
Thee, and though I am a dog, yet I would have crumbs. Still she
laboreth to catch after mercy, and to lean and to bear herself upon
the favor of Christ for the bestowing thereof upon her. So it must
be with every faithful Christian in this particular; he must roll himself upon the power, and faithfulness, and truth of God, and wait for
His mercy, (I will join them both together for brevity's sake, though
the latter be a fourth step and degree of faith); I say he must not
only depend upon God, but he must wait upon the Holy One of
Israel.
The fifth step of Abraham's faith appeared in this; He counted
nothing too dear for the Lord; he was content to break through all im
pediments, to pass through all difficulties, whatsover God would have,
he had of Him. This is thenext step that Abraham went; and this
you shall find when God put him upon the trial. The text saith there
"that God did tempt Abraham," did try what he would do for Him,
and He bade him, " Go, take thy son, thine only seoq Iatac, whom thou




THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH.                   375
lovest, and slay him;" and straight Abraham went and laid his son
upon an altar, and took a knife, to cut the throat of his son-so that
Abraham did not spare his son Isaac, he did not spare for any cost,
he did not dodge with God in this case; if God would have any
thing, He should have it, whatsoever it were, though it were his own
life, for no question Isaac was dearer to him than his own life. And
this was not his case alone, but the faithful people of God have ever
walked the same course. The Apostle Paul was of the same spirit,
" I know not (saith he) the things that shall befall me, save that the
Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying, that bonds and afflictions
abide me: but none of these things move me, neither count I my life
dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the
ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the Gospel of the grace of God." 0 blessed spirit I here is the work of faith.
Alas! when we come to part with any thing for the cause of God,
how hardly comes it from us! " But I (saith he) pass not, no, nor
is my life dear unto me." Here, I say, is the work of faith, indeed,
when a man is content to do any thing for God, and to say if imprisonment, loss of estate, liberty, life, come, I pass not, it moveth me nothing, so I may finish my course with comfort. Hence it was that the
saints of God in those primitive times " took joyfully the spoiling of
their goods."  Methinks I see the saints there reaching after Christ
with the arms of faith, and how, when any thing lay in their way,
they were content to lose all, to part with all to have Christ. Therefore saith Saint Paul, " I am ready not to be bound only, but also to
die at Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus." Mark, rather than
he would leave his Saviour, he would leave his life, and though men
would have hindered him, yet was resolved to have Christ, howsoever, though he lost his life for Him. Oh, let me have my Saviour
and take my life!
The last step of all is this: when the soul is thus resolved not to
dodge with God, but to part with any thing for Him, then in the
last place there followeth a readiness of heart to address man's self
to the performance of whatsoever duty God requireth at his hands;
I say this is the last step, when, without consulting with flesh and
blood, without hammering upon it, as it were, without awkwardness
of heart, there followeth a prestness to obey God, the soul is at hand.
When Abraham was called " Behold (saith he) here I am." And so
Samuel, "Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth," and so Annias,
" Behold, I am here, Lord." The faithful soul is not to seek, as an
evil servant that is gone a roving after his companions, that is out of
the way when his master would use him, but is like a trusty servant




376                 THOMAS HOOKER.
that waiteth upon his master, and is ever at hand to do his pleasure
So you shall see it was with Abraham, when the Lord commanded
him to go out of his country, "he obeyed, and went out, not knowing whither he went;" he went cheerfully and readily, though he
knew not whither; as who should say, if the Lord calls, I will not
question, if He command I will perform, whatever it be. So it must
be with every faithful soul-we must blind the eye of carnal reason,
resolve to obey, though heaven and earth seem to meet together in
a contradiction, care not what man or what devil saith in this case,
but what God will have done, do it; this is the courage and obedience of faith. See how Saint Paul, in the place before named,
flung his ancient friends from him, when they came to cross him in
the work of his ministry. They all came about him, and because
they thought they should see his face no more, they besought him
not to go up to Jerusalem. Then Paul answered, " What mean ye to
weep, and to break my heart?" as who should say, It is a grief and a
vexation to my soul, that ye would burden me, that I can not go
with readiness to perform the service that God requireth at my
hands. The like Christian courage was in Luther when his friends
dissuaded him to go to Worms: " If all the tiles in Worms were so
imany devils (said he) yet would I go thither in the name of my
Lord Jesus." This is the last step.
Now gather up a little what I have delivered. He that is resolved to stoop to the call of God; to prize the promises, and breathe
after them; to rest upon the Lord, and to wait His time for bestowing mercy upon him; to break through all impediments and difficulties, and to count nothing too dear for God; to be content to perform ready and cheerful obedience; he that walketh thus, and treadeth in these steps, peace be upon him; Heaven is hard by; he is as
sure of salvation as the angels are; it is as certain as the Lord liveth
that he shall be saved with faithful Abraham, for he walketh in the
steps of Abraham, and therefore he is sure to be where he is. The
case, you see, is clear, and the point evident, that every faithful man
may, and must, imitate faithful Abraham.
It may be here imagined, that we draw men up to too high a
pitch; and, certainly, if this be the sense of the words, and the
meaning of the Holy Ghost in this place, what will become of many
that live in the bosom of the Church? Will you therefore see the
point confirmed by reason? The ground of this doctrine stands
thus: every faithful man hath the same faith, for nature and for
work, that Abraham had; therefore, look what nature his faith was
of, and what power it had; of the same nature and power every




THE ACTIVITY  OF FAITH.                    377
true believer's faith is. Briefly thus: the promises of God are the
ground upon which all true faith resteth; the Spirit of God it is
that worketh this faith in all believers; the power of the Spirit is
that that putteth forth itself in the hearts and lives of all the faithful; gather these together: if all true believers have the same promises for the ground of their faith; have one and the same spirit to
work it; have one and the same power to draw out the abilities of
faith, then certainly they can not but have the very self-same actions, having the very self-same ground of their actions.
Every particular believer (as the Apostle Peter saith) " hath obtained the like precious faith." Mark, that there is a great deal of
copper faith in the world-much counterfeit believing; but the saints
do all partake of " the like precious faith." As when a man hath
but a sixpence in silver, or a crown in gold, those small pieces, for
the nature, are as good as the greatest of the same metal; so it is
with the faith of God's elect. And look as it is in grafting; if there
be many scions of the same kind grafted into one stock, they all
partake alike of the virtue of the stock; just so it is here. The
Lord Jesus Christ is the stock, as it were, into which all the faithful
are grafted by the Spirit of God and faith; therefore, whatsoever
fruit one beareth, another beareth also: howsoever, there may be
degrees of works, yet they are of the same nature.  As a little
apple is the same in taste with a great one of the same tree, even so
every faithful man hath the same holiness of heart and life, because
he hath the same principle of holiness. The fruit indeed that one
Christian bringeth may be but poor and small in comparison of
others, yet it is the same in kind; the course of his life is not with
so much power and fullness of grace, it may be, as another's, yet
there is the same true grace, and the same practice, in the kind of it,
for truth, however in degree it differ.    *   
Let us now come to see what benefit we may make to ourselves
of this point, thus proved and confirmed; and, certainly, the use of
this doctrine is of great consequence. In the first place, it is a just
ground of examination. For if it be true (as it can not be denied,
the reasons being so strong, and arguments so plain) that every son
of Abraham followeth the steps of Abraham, then here you may
clearly perceive who it is that hath saving faith indeed, who they
be that are true saints and the sons of Abraham. By the light of
this truth, by the rule of this doctrine, if you would square your
courses, and look into your conversations, you can not but discern
whether you have faith or no. That man whose faith showeth itself
and putteth itself forth in its several conditions, agreeably to the




378                 THOMAS HOOKER.
faith of Abraham, that man that followeth the footsteps of the faith
of Abraham, let him be esteemed a faithful man, let him be reckoned
for a true believer.
But if any man's faith do not this, but be contrary unto, or fall
short of this, in the truth (I say not in the measure) of it, certainly
it is a counterfeit, it is copper faith. 0 the world of counterfeit faith,
then, that is in the Church at this day I It was the complaint of our
Saviour Christ, that " when He should come, He should scarce find
faith on the earth," as if He should say, It will be so little and
scarce, that one shall hardly know where to find a faithful man. It
was the complaint of the Psalrist of old, and is most true of these
times, that'"the faithful fail from among the children of men."
Many a man "hath a name that he is alive, and yet is dead." Many
have a fancy of faith, yet upon the trial we shall find that there are
but few, even of those that are interested in the title of Christians,
and live in the bosom of the Church, that have any right or title to
the Lord Jesus, and the promises of God revealed in the Church.
Let us try a few. And first, this falleth marvelous heavy upon and
casteth out all ignorant persons, that were never enlightened, never
quickened, never had their minds informed, touching Christ and the
promises. Alas! they know not what faith meaneth, and what
Christ meaneth; and how can these walk in the footsteps of the
faith of Abraham, when they never saw the way of Abraham?
But let them go; my heart pitieth them; I rather choose to grapple
with those who think themselves in a better estate and condition.
And the first of this rank are profane persons, those that live and
lie in sin, in Sabbath-breaking, swearing, drunkenness, adultery, and
the like. The case of such is clear and evident: these are so far
from treading in the steps of Abraham that they hate purity, and
holiness, and goodness. And as for these, if any such be here, let
them not be deceived, but let me tell them out of God's word, that as
yet have not faith, as yet they are not the sons of Abraham. What
they may be I know not; I leave them to the Lord, and wish them
a sight and apprehension of their own condition, and that they may
be brought out of that gall of bitterness wherein they are; but as
yet, I dare say they are not the sons of Abraham. * * *
Let me go further, and you shall see more than these cut off from
being the sons of Abraham; and surely, if Abraham should come
down from heaven, he might complain that there were very few of
his sons to be found upon the earth. In the next place, therefore,
take a taste of the civilized professors, such as are not as other men;
no common swearers, no profaners of the Sabbath, no drunkards:




THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH.                  879
and the like. These men think that they go near indeed to the
steps of Abraham, yet give me leave to scan these a little, I pray,
and to try them.
Abraham (you know) did not stick with God when He called
him, but was content to be under the command of God, and to yield
to Him in every thing. Take now one that hath not the power of
godliness in his heart; he keepeth, it may be, his fingers from filching and stealing, abstains from the gross acts of sin, and from open
profaneness; but what strength of grace is there in his soul? What
mortification shall you find of his secret lust? What subduing of
sin within? Alasl ask him what ruleth him, at whose command
he is, at whose call he cometh: I appeal to the souls and consciences
of all such men; the command of God calleth, and covetousness
calleth, which of these is followed? The Lord saith to the world.
ling, Come out of thy counting-house, and go to prayer, come and
hear My word; the Lord calls to the gentlemen, Forsake thy pleasures and thy sports, and humble thyself in sackcloth and ashes;
the Ldrd calleth for these things, the times call for them-who is
obeyed?  Whose commands do you stoop unto?  Is there any
command disobeyed but God's? If a man presume on any, it is on
the Lord. Profits, pleasures, worldly business, must be attended,
whether the Lord be pleased or no, or whether the duties He requireth be performed or no.
You that are gentlemen and tradesmen, I appeal to your souls
whether the Lord and His cause is not the loser this way. Doth not
prayer pay for it? Doth not the Word pay for it? Are not the
ordinances always losers when any thing of your own cometh in
competition? Is it not evident, then, that you are not under the
command of the Word? How do you tremble at the wrath and
threatenings of a mortal man? and yet, when you hear the Lord
thunder judgments out of His Word, who is humbled? When He
calls for fasting, and weeping, and mourning, who regards it?
Abraham, my brethren, did not thus; these were none of his steps;
no, no: he went a hundred miles off this course. The Lord no
sooner said to him, " Forsake thy country and thy kindred, and thy
father's house," but he forsook all, neither friend nor father prevailed
to detain him from obedience, but he stooped willingly to God's
command.
There are yet a third sort that come short of being the sons of
Abraham, and they are the close-hearted hypocrites. These are a
generation that are of a more refined kind than the last, but howsoever they carry the matter very covertly, yea, and are exceeding




880                THOMAS HOOKER.
cunning; yet the truth will make them known. Many a hypocrite
may come thus far, to be content to part with any thing, and out.
ward]y to suffer for the cause of God, to part with divers pleasures
and lusts, and to perform many holy services. But here is the difference between Abraham and these men: Abraham forsook his
goods and all, but your close-hearted hypocrites have always some
god or other that they do homage to, their ease, or their wealth, or
some secret lust, something or other they have set up as an idol
within them, and so long as they may have and enjoy that, they
will part with any thing else. But thou must know, that if thou be
one of Abraham's children, thou must come away from thy gods,
thy god of pride, of self-love, of vain-glory, and leave worshiping
of these, and be content to be alone by God and His truth. This
shall suffice for the first use; I can not proceed further in the press.
ing thereof, because I would shut up all with the time.
The second use is a word of instruction, and it shall be but a
word or two; that if all the saints of God must walk in the same
way of life and salvation that Abraham did, then there is no b'y-wavr
to btring a man to happiness. Look, what way Abraham went, you
must go; there is no more ways: the same course that he took must
be a copy 6for you to follow, a rule, as it were, for you to square
your whole conversation by. There is no way but one to come to
life and happiness. I speak it the rather to dash that idle device of
many carnal men, that think the Lord hath a new invention to bring
them to life, and that they need not go the ordinary way, but God
hath made a shorter cut for them. Great men and gentlemen think
God will spare them. What, must they be humbled, and fast, and
pray? That is for poor men, and mean men. Their places and estates
will not suffer it; therefore surely God hath given a dispensation to
them. And the poor men, they think it is for gentlemen that have
more leisure and time: alas, they live by their labor, and they must
take pains for what they have, and therefore they can not do what
is required. But be not deceived; if there be any way beside that
which Abraham went, then will I deny myself. But the case is
clear, the Lord saith it, the Word saith it; the same way, the same
footsteps that Abraham took, we must take, if ever we will come
vwhere Abraham is.
You must not balk in this kind, whoever you are; God respect
eth no man's person. If you would arrive at the same haven, you
must sail through the same sea. You must walk the same way of
grace, if you would come to the same kingdom of glory. It is a
cmnceit that harboreth in the hearts of many men, nay, of most men




THE ACTIVITY OF FAITH.                  881
in general, especially your great wise men and your great rich men,
that have better places and estates in the world than ordinary.
What, think they, may not a man be saved without all this ado?
What needs all this? Is there not another way besides this? Surely,
my brethren, you must teach our Saviour Christ and the Apostle
Paul another way. I am sure they never knew another; and he that
dreameth of another way must be content to go beside. There is no
such matter as the devil would persuade you; it is but his delusion
to keep you under infidelity, and so shut you up to destruction under
false and vain conceits. The truth is, here is the way, and the only
way, and you must walk here if ever you come to life and happiness. Therefore, be not deceived, suffer not your eyes to be blinded;
but know, what Abraham did, you must do the same, if not in action, yet in affection. If God say, Forsake all, thou must do it, at
least in affection. Thou must still wait upon His power and providence; yield obedience to Him in all things; be content to submit
thyself to His will. This is the way you must walk in, if you ever
come to heaven.
The last use shall be a use of comfort to all the saints and people of God, whose consciences can witness that they have labored
to walk in the uprightness of their heart as Abraham did. I have
two or three words to speak to these.
Be persuaded out of the word of God, that your course is good,
and go on with comfort, and the God of heaven be with you; and
be sure of it, that you that walk with Abraham shall be at rest with
Abraham; and it shall never repent you of all the pains that you
have taken. Haply it may seem painful and tedious to you; yet,
what Abigail said to David, let me say to you: " Oh," saith she,
"let not my lord do this: when the Lord shall have done to my
lord according to all the good that He hath spoken concerning
thee, and shall have appointed thee ruler over Israel, this shall be
no grief unto thee, nor offense of heart, that thou hast shed blood
causeless, or that my lord hath avenged himself." My brethren,
let me say to you, You will find trouble and inconveniences, and
hard measure at the hands of the wicked in this world. Many Nabals and Cains will set themselves against you; but go on, and bear
it patiently. Know it is a troublesome way, but a true way; it is
grievous but yet good; and the end will be happy. It will never
repent you, when the LorT hath performed all the good that He
hath spoken coacerning you.
Oh! to see a man drawing his breath low and short, after he
hath spent many hours and days in prayer to the Lord, grappling




882                THOMAS HOOKER.
with his corruptions, and striving to pull down his base lhsts; after
he hath waited upon the Lord in a constant course of obedience.
Take but such a man, and ask him, now his conscience is opened,
whether the ways of holiness and sincerity be not irksome to him,
whether he be not grieved with himself for undergoing so much
needless trouble (as the world thinks it); and his soul will then clear
this matter. It is true he hath had a tedious course of it, but now
his death will be blessed. He hath striven for a crown, and now beholds a crown. Now he is beyond the waves. All the contempts, and
imprisonments, and outrages of wicked men, are now too short to
reach him. He is so far from repenting, that he rejoiceth and triumpheth in reflecting back upon all the pains, and care, and labor
of love, whereby he hath loved the Lord Jesus, in submitting his
heart unto Him.
Take me another man, that hath lived here in pomp and jollity,
hath had many livings, great preferments, much honor, abundance
of pleasure, yet hath been ever careless of God and of His word,
profane in his course, loose in his conversation, and ask him upon
his death-bed, how it standeth with him. Oh I woe the time that
ever he spent it as he hath done. Now the soul begins to hate the
man, and the very sight of him, that bath been the instrument with
it in the committing of sin. Now nothing but gall and wormwood
remaineth. Now the sweetness of the adulterer's lust is gone, and
nothing but the sting of conscience remaineth. Now the covetous
man must part with his goods, and the gall of asps must stick behind. Now the soul sinks within, and the heart is overwhelmed with
sorrow. Take but these two men, I say, and judge oy their ends,
whether it will ever repent you that you have done well, that you
have walked in the steps of the faith of Abraham.
My brethren, howsoever, you have had many miseries, yet the Lord
hath many mercies for you. God dealeth with His servants, as a
father doth with his son, after he hath sent him on a great journey to do
some business; and the weather falleth foul, and the way proveth dangerolis, and many a storm, and great difficulties are to be gone through.
Oh, how the heart of that father pitieth his son I How doth he resolve to requite him, if he ever live to come home again. What
preparation doth he make to entertain, and welcome him; and how
doth he study to do good unto him I My brethren, so it is here;
I beseech you, think of it, you that are the saints and people of
God. You must find in your way many troubles and griefs (and we
ought to find them), but be not discouraged. The more misery, the
greater mercy. God the Father seeth His servants: and if they




THE ACTIVITY OF FAITI.                    383
suffer and endure for a good conscience, as His eye seeth them, so
His soul pitieth them. His heart bleeds within Him for them; that
is, He hath a tender compassion of them, and He saith within Himself,
Well, I will requite them if ever they come into My kingdom; all
their patience, and care, and conscience in walking in My ways, I
will requite; and they shall receive a double reward from Me, even
a crown of eternal glory. Think of these things that are not seen;
they are eternal. The things that are seen are temporal, and they
will deceive us. Let our hearts be carried after the other, and rest in
them forever I




DISCOURSE  SIXTY. SXTH.
COTTON MATHER, D.D.,F.R.S.
MATHER was born ih Boston in 1663. He was a grandson of Johu
Cctton. In 1678 he graduated at Harvard College, and was ordained
acllegiate minister of the North Church, in Boston, in 1684. He died
ir. February, 1738. Mather was a man of great learning; and so.l'duable did he consider his time for reading, that he wrote over his
j tdy-door "'BE SHORT." His publications amounted to three hundred
M..d eighty-two, many of which were small, but some voluminous. His
Ecclesiastical History of New England," is the largest of those pub.
>ihed, in seven volumes, folio.
The style of Mather is sprightly and poetic, but his writings are
arxred by puerilities and strange conceits. The sermon here given is
copied from a small volume, bearing the imprint of " Boston, in New
England, 1721." It was preached before the Commissioners for the
Propagation of the Gospel among the American Indians. It is of special
interest as furnishing a specimen of preaching in the age succeeding the
time of the giant-minded planters of New England, and before thb  era
of the great revivals.
THE JOYFUL SOUND OF SALVATION.
" Blessed is the people that know the joyful sound." —PSALM lx1xni. 15.
There was a direction given and taken in the old Chu;-ch ef Israel,
Make thee two trumpets of silver, that thou mayst::se tl:ern for
the calling of the assembly."  By the bound of such sil.'er trumpets,
the people of God were called unto the employmenti  e.d enjoy.
ments o' their sacred solemnities. And was this the joyful sound, for
which the people that heard it, are now pronounced a b.?d3 jpople.2
I deny not the reference hereunto, which may be he-rr supposed.




THE JOYFUL SCUND OF SALVATION.
But then, we will suppose a further intent of the Holy Spirit, by
whom the Psalm was dictated. He may intend the joyful sound,
which in the Gospel and the institutions thereof, His people are
blessed withal. And accordingly, it will be no wrong unto the text,
if we put it unto the use of supporting this doctrine.
I. Glorious is the blessedness of the people, who truly know the
joyful sound, which in and with the glorious Gospel of the blessed
God, and the institutions thereof, arrives unto us.
In the Gospel, and the ordinances of it, there is a joyful sound,
which we are made partakers of. A true knowledge of this joyful
sound, will render the people that have it, a blessed people.
Let us proceed more distinctly, in three propositions, to consider
what we have before us.
First. There is a joyful sound, which is to be heard among the children of men, where the Gospel is published, and where the ordinances of it are established. The sound of the silver trumpets
which entertained the ancient Israelites, in and for their solemn assemblies, was no less typical than musical. In these days of the New
Testament, we have the substance of the instrumental music, which
was of old used in the worship of God; the shadow is vanished
away. The shadow was of old confined unto the temple; but the
substance we have now in every synagogue. The usage of instrumental music in our public worship of God, has been long since disrelished among His faithful people. Justin Martyr long ago exploded it. Yea, Aquineas, himself, as late or less than five hundred
years ago, decried it. Indeed it was one of the last things which the
man of sin introduced into the worship of the Saviour, which he
had already filled with a multitude of superstitions. We will then,
for the present, look on the Jewish trumpets, and organs too. as
part of the abrogated pedagogy. Yea, but the trumpets of the Gospel,
these we have still sounding in our ears, but the sound has diverse
properties assigned unto it, which it will be proper for us now to
take notice of.
There is a sound in the Gospel, and the ordinances thereof; and
it is, first, a great sound. Oh! were we so much " in the spirit on the
Lord's Day," as to hear, what is to be heard in the Gospel then
brought unto us, we should be able to say, I heard,a great voice as
of a trumpet. There is a famous prophecy: "The great trumpet
shall be blown, and they that were ready to perish, shall come and
worship the Lord." Whatever other accomplishments this prophecy
may have, it is very gloriously accomplished in the proclamation
which ollr Saviour in His Gospel makes unto us. The Gospel, as
25




386                 COTTON MATHER.
with the sound of a trumpet, invites the sinners ready to perish, O
come, and worship, and obey, and enjoy the Lord. And when this
great trumpet is blown, great, great is the sound thereof. The sound
of the trumpet is great in the extent of it. We read, "The sound
goes into all the earth." In less than forty years, it reached unto
the utmost bounds of the vast Roman Empire; and though Satan
seduced numbers of miserables into America, that they might be out
of its hearing, it has now reached hither also. The silver trumpets
were at first but a couple, for the two sons of Aaron; but afterward,
in Solomon's time, we find an hundred and twenty silver trumpets
all sounding together. Before the incarnation of our Saviour, His
Gospel was heard but a little way. Afterward, it sounded far and
near, and the Gospel was preached unto every creature: it might be
said, it sounds in every place. The sound of the trumpet is also great
in the effect of it. A loud sound, indeed; so loud, as to awaken
them that have a dead sleep upon them! So loud, as to convey life
unto them that lie dead in trespasses and sins: "The hour now
is, when the dead hear the voice of the Son of God and live." The
sound of this trumpet fetches back the lost souls of all the elect from
the power of Satan unto God. They are not silver trumpets that
are now sounding unto us; but they are saving trumpets! Faith
comes, the love of God comes, the love of our neighbor comes, and
the foretaste of heaven comes, by the hearing of them. What are
they, but the power of God unto salvation.
Secondly.'Tis a good sound as well as a great one.  No
trumpets can, give so good, so grateful, so lovely a sound as the
trumpets of the Gospel do. Fame often in her trumpet, has a
sound, which may not be relied upon; but every trumpet of the
Gospel gives a sound, of none but faithful sayings, and worthy of
all acceptation. We are told: " As cold water to a thirsty soul, so
is good news from a far country." In the trumpets of the Gospel,
we have the sound of nothing but good news "from a far country:"
The sound which we hear in the trumpets of the Gospel, is what
was once heard from the mouth of an angel: "Behold I bring you
good tidings of great joy, that unto you there is born a Saviour."
Wherever the Gospel comes, there is a sound of this tenor; good
news for you who by your sins have the face of God hidden from
you; there is a JESUS, who saves His people from their sins. Good
news for you who have the wrath of God abiding on you. There
is a JESUS, who delivers from the wrath to come. The joyful sound,
which here distinguishes a blessed people, may carry some allusion
to the trumpets of jubilee, heard once in fifty years among the PJ




THE JOYFUL SOUND OF SALVATION.                387
raelites.  Once in fifty years, there was that castom  observed;
" Then shalt thou cause the trumpet of the jubilee to sound, and ye
shall proclaim liberty throughbut the land." Certainly, the trumpets of September, proclaiming the acceptable year of the Lord,
made a very good sound unto the poor people that were now to see
a release from various miseries: a good sound unto the servants,
who were now to call for and to take up their indentures: a good
sound unto the debtors, whose mortgages were now expired, and
whose tenements returned unto them. Thus where the Gospel
arrives, it brings a jubilee with it. It proclaims a liberty for the
captives; a redemption for the miserable; a recovery of what we
sinned away.'Tis the Gospel of peace; the trumpets of the Gospel, are trumpets of peace. The sound of these trumpets is, a reconciliation with God obtained for sinners; the anger of God now
turned away from those, whom He was once angry withal  The
trumpets which gave the law, had a sound that was trembled at.
The guilty sinner hearing those trumpets, may have it said of him,
a dreadful sound is in his ears. The sound of those trumpets is,
Cursed is he that continued not in all things to do them. The Gospel of our salvation, this is a much more pleasant sound than so.
The sound of it is Grace! Grace! The grace that will pardon the
penitent! The grace that will quicken the impotent! The grace
that will heal them that languish under all sorts of maladies I
No wonder then if, thirdly, it be a glad sound, when we find it
such a good one. A joyful sound! The souls that are effectually
called by the sound of the Gospel, how joyful does it render them I
The trumpets of the Gospel do to the soul, as the harps of David did
unto Saul: they drive away the evil spirit of sorrow, of sadness of despair. The Psalmist could say, " I was glad when they said unto me,
Let us go into the house of the Lord." The trumpets which gave a
joyful sound unto the blessed people, had this among other intentions of them, they were for the calling of the assembly. Glad, glad
at heart, was that Israelite indeed, when he heard the trumpets give
that call: "Come away to the sacrificesI" The trumpets of the
Gospel call us to those appointments of God, wherein we are to
glorify Him with the sacrifices of righteousness; and how glad
will a sincere Christian be of such invitations I But then, in these
appointments of God, what is it we meet withal? Enough to make
us " rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of glory 1" The tenders
of a Saviour, a powerful, a merciful, and only SAVIOUR, are here
made unto us. Oh, the joyful sound of such tenders I The prom.
Aies of a m',st gracid us Covenant are here brought unto us. These




388                 COTTON MATHER.
very great and precious promises; oh, the joyful sound of them
The sound of these promises is, Rejoice, 0 thou saved soul; God
the Father is thy Friend; God the Son is thy Surety for good; God
the Spirit is thy Conductor and Comforter; be of good cheer, thy
sins are forgiven thee. The angels are thy guardians, thou art a
temple of God. God will make all things work together for thy
good. And there are the spiritual blessings of the heavenly places
reserved for thee! OhI joyful sound! How reviving  how ravishing! When the Gospel was preached with success: " There was
great joy in the city." Well might there be so, on such a joyful
soundI How joyful is the soldier when the trumpet invites him
"to the spoil I to the spoil I" The joyful sound of the Gospel carries this in it: else it had not been said, "I rejoice at Thy word, as
one that findeth great spoil." The blessings which the word of God
lead us to, are matchless treasures. What a joyful sound must it be
that leads us to them!
II. In order to blessedness, it is requisite, not only that we have,
but also that we know the joyful sound, which is brought untc
us in the Gospel, and in the ordinances of it. Indeed, in a larger
sense, to have the joyful sound, is to know it. A people that have
the Gospel, and know the joyful sound, in the external enjoyment
of it, these do enjoy a rich favor of God. The places which enjoy
the Scriptures and have the Church state, with the faith and order
of the Gospel, are therein highly favored of the Lord.
Gideon's fleece, wet with the dews of heaven, when the ground
all about is dry, has a singular token for good upon it. The sound
of the trumpets which proclaim the kingdom of God, is heard in
some happy lands, while others are left unacquained with it: even
so, righteous Father, because it pleases Thee! And so far they have
a singular happiness. It may be said unto them,' Blessed are your
eyes, for they see, and your ears, for they hear." Such a people are
in some degree the favorites of heaven. They have the kingdom
in some essay of it among them. Where the trumpets of the Gospel are sounding, we may say, " The Lord is near." Yea, the name
of that City, that Country, is JEHOVAH SHAMMAH, the Lord is
there. A people who so far know the joyful sound, are after a pe.
culiar manner known by the King of heaven: He may say to such:
"You only have I known." But alas, many who so far know the
joyful sound, may after all come to "lie down in sorrow." They
that are so far lifted up to heaven, may be thrown down to hell
after all. In such a knowledge of the joyful sound, as will render
a people a blessed people, there is more implied than a mere hear



THE JOYFUL SOUND CF SALVATION.                389
ing of it. To know the joyful sound, as it should be known, is to
know the meaning of it, the value of it, the credit of it, and the
power of it.
First. There are people who discern the joyful sound. The silver
trumpets of old, were distinct and signal in the sound thereof. The
marches, the motions, the stands, of the armies passing through the
wilderness, were directed by the sound. The trumpets of the Gospel give orders unto us; we are to take our measures from their joyful
sound. People know the joyful sound when they understand the
Gospel, and perceive the mind of the Lord. There are those under
the Gospel, to whom our Lord says, as He once did unto His diciples
after the sermon in Matt. xiii. 51, " Have ye understood all these
things?" And they can reply, "Yea, Lord!" We may say concerning the trumpets of the Gospel, as was of old said concerning the
Pauline epistles, "There are in them some things hard to be understood." But there are people who do competently understand them.
They readily perceive the language of the trumpets about the whole
mystery of Christ, and the homage that we owe unto Him;'tis not
a strange language unto them.
O blessed people, who so know the joyful sound I We remember
the speech of the Pharisees, about the people which know not the
law-how justly to be spoken about the people who know not the
Gospel! But then, blessed the people who do know itl How it
thunders, in Isaiah, xxvii. 11! It is a people of no understanding,
therefore He that made them will not have mercy on them; He that
formed them will show them no favor. But then, on the other side,
a joyful people that understand well the joyful sound, are a people
that God has much mercy for, much favor for; a people greatly
blessed of the Lord.
Secondly. There are people who esteem the joyful sound. They;o know it as to prize it, set a vast price upon it. In the Bible words
)f knowledge do sometimes signify affection too. Some so know the
joyful sound as to be well affected unto it; yea, to prefer it unto their:hiefest joy. There are people who had rather be with David, where
hey may hear what God the Lord shall say unto them in the silver
rumpets of the Gospel, than be with Belshazzar, at a bout where
rolden vessels are caroused in. They count no melody like that
vhich is to be heard in the courts of the Lord, and looking on the
ilver trumpets, they say as he, " More to be desired are they than
iuch fine gold." They will strive to have their silver trumpets
iith them, whatever expense of silver or any thing else it puts them




390                 COTTON MATHER.
to. They begrudge no cost for it; are patient, though it cost them
the bread of adversity, and the water of affliction.
O blessed people who so know the joyful sound! We are told,
"Great peace have they that love Thy law."  If the trumpets of the
Gospel have our love, they will then speak our peace, cause our peace,
The fruits of the lips that blow in those trumpets are peace, peace,
and all the blessings of goodness I
Thirdly. There are people who believe the joyful sound. We
read of the good seed falling into good and honest hearts; thus there
is the good sound coming into good and honest ears. There are
some that find no jars in the sound of the silver trumpets; they raise
no disputes about it; they start no cavils upon it. It was a noble
confession of faith, " I worship God, believing all things which are
written in the law and the prophets." Thus there are people who
live unto God, and live by the faith of the Son of God; and it is because they believe all things that are sounded in the trumpets of the
Gospel. About the trumpets that sounded on Sinai, it was the per,
suasion of the people in all after ages; Lord, thou spakest with them
from heaven, and gavest them right judgments. Truly in the trumpets that we have sounding from Zion, we have the Lord speaking
from heaven unto us, and we have right judgments in them. This is
the persuasion of the people that know right judgments. They embrace the Gospel with reason satisfied, and faith established.
0 blessed people who so know the joyful sound! The unbeliever
is always under the wrath of God. The portion of the unbeliever is
forever to be deprecated. But our Lord hath assured us, "Blessed
are they that have believed."
Fourthly. There are people who obey the joyful sound. We are
informed, " He that saith, I know Him, and keepeth not His commandments, is a liar."  There are some who so know as to do: they
know practically. Their knowledge has their practice conformed
unto it. They hear the trumpets of the Gospel, and they are not the
self-deceivers who are no doers, but hearers only. When the sound
of the silver trumpets is, Repair among them who have listed themselves under the banner of their Saviour: then these people come and
put themselves under the conduct of the Lord, who is an ensign for
the people. If the sound of the silver trumpet be, Arm, arm yourselves against the adversaries that seek to devour you: then these
people put on the whole armor of God. If the sound of the silver
trumpet be fall on, Fall on, give no quarter to the lusts from which
you have your wounds: then these people mortify their members
which are upon the earth. If the sound of the silver trumpets beq




THE JOYFUL SOUND 01 SALVATIJON.                391
Retreat, retreat out of the reach of the destroyer: then these people
abstain frm the fleshy lusts which war against their souls.
0 blessed people, who so know the joyful sound! It is one of
the notes in the silver trumpets, If ye know these things, happy are
ye if ye do them. And one of the Divine heralds that carried the
silver trumpets through the world has assured us, "the doer of the
Word, this man shall be blessed in his deed."
III. The blessedness of the people who thus know this joyful
sound, is a very glorious blessedness.
A most considerable article of the blessedness attending a people
who hear the silver trumpets of the Gospel, and pay due regards unto
them, is this: they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of Thy countenance. A gracious preference of the blessed God among a people
accompanies the joyful sound. The silver trumpets are heard no.
where but where the King of heaven keeps His court. There are
those whose office it is to blow in the silver trumpets. Unto those
our Saviour has engaged himself, " Lo, I am with you always." Will
health, and wealth, and rest among a people make a blessed people?'Tis commonly thought so. But what will God have among a people?
Oh, blessed that people whose God is the Lord, and who have a gracious preference of God among them. Even such are the people
who know the joyful sound I Where the Gospel, with the ordinances
of it are well settled, maintained, respected, and the silver trumpets
well sounded among a people, it may be said, as in Numbers xxiii. 21,
" The Lord their God is with them, and the shout of a king is among
them." In one word the ordinances of the Gospel furnish us with
opportunities for communion with God. " In them I will commune
with you," saith the Lord. We may herein draw near to God, God
will herein draw near to us. The voice of the silver trumpets is,
Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you! Can any blessedness be more glorious?
But more particularly, First, In the joyful sound, we have the
guide to blessedness. The silver trumpets put us into the way, unto
the " rest that remaineth for the people of God." We are ignorant
o' the way to blessedness: and the way of peace we have not known.
But where the trumpets of the Gospel sound, there is a fulfillment
of that word: " Thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying,
this is the way, walk in it." They reveal to us what we are to think,
what we are to do, what we are to wish for; they lead us in the way
wherein we should go.
Scondly. In the joyful sound we have the cause of blessedness
The silver trumpets are like the golden pipes in Zechariah, which




392                 COTTON MATHER.
convey the golden oil of grace into the souls of men.'Tis by them
that God fetches men out of the graves, in which they lie sinfully
and woefully putrifying; and infuses a principle of piety into them;
and inclines them to the things that are holy, and just, and good.
That effectual calling which brings men into blessedness,'tis in the
trumpets of the Gospel that the spirit of God gives it unto His chosen ones; men hear the word of the Gospel and believe.
APPLICATION.
But let us now make some improvements of these instructions.
I. Blessed the people who know the joyful sound; then wretch.
ed the people, forlorn the people, undone the people. who are strangers to the joyful sound. Oh! the pity that is due unto them I
The Jewish nation have now lost their silver trumpets for these
many ages. And in their long dispersion how pathetical is their cry
unto us. Have pity on me, 0 ye, my friends, have pity on me, for
the hand of the Lord hath touched me. Yea, and how many Protestant Churches have, in our days, had their silver trumpets forced
from them; and instead thereof heard the " enemies roaring in the
midst of the congregations!" Yea, how many nations are there that
never heard the joyful sound! That lie buried in Paganizing or in
Mohammedan infidelity. And is it not a lamentable thing that so near
unto ourselves there should be so many ungospelized plantations!
Our pity for those ought certainly to put us upon prayer for them;
upon study for them. Oh! what shall be done for them who lie in
wickedness, and have this epitaph upon them: If our Gospel be hid,
it is hid unto them that be lost.
II. Blessed the people, who know the joyful sound; then we are'i blessed people; and at the same time we are to be taught how to
continue so. My brethren, we have the joyful sound at such a rate,
that it may almost be said of us as in Deuteronomy: "What nation
is there who hath God so nigh unto them?' For the silver trumpets to be heard sounding as they are in the American regions;
verily'tis the Lord's doings, and marvelous in our eyes. May we
ever account these our precious and our pleasant things.
Oh I how thankful ought we to be unto our God for His Gospe;,
and the ordinances of it! When the silver trumpets were of old
going to sound, the angels of God were heard making those acclamations thereupon, "Glory to God in the highest."  And shall not
we give glory to the. most High God on the occasion! 0 Gospelized people, God hath. showed His statutes and His judgments unto
us, praise ye the Lord. When the trumpets of God are sounding




THE JOYFUL SOUND OF SALVATION.                39M
shall not our trumpets be sounding too? His trumpets are in His
ordinances; our trumpets are in our thanksgivings, we are so called
upon: " With trumpets make a joyful noise before the Lord."
Such a blessed people should be a thankful people. But verily,
our God will not look on us as a thankful people, if we are not also
a fruitful people. A barren people; oh I what a fearful doom are
they threatened with I what a fearful fate are they warned of! "It
is nigh unto cursing."  Sirs, be fruitful in every good work; fruitful and always abounding in the work of the Lord.
In the midst of these cares you will use all due means, that you
may see no intermission of the joyful sound. You will provide seasonably for the succession that shall be needful, by all due cares
about the means of education in our land, without which the land
becomes a Scythian desert. But when you make this provision,
oh I look up to the glorious Lord, that you may be blessed with
truly silver trumpets; never have any but a man of worth; such as
will be of good metal; and such as in the cause of God will always
"lift up their voice like a trumpet."
But this is that which is most of all to be urged upon you. Heark.
en, hearken to the joyful sound. Hearken to it, and comply with
it. The joyful sound is that " Let the wicked forsake his way, and
return to the Lord, who will have mercy on him." Hearken to it,
and with echoes of devotion reply, "My God, I return unto Thee!"
The joyful sound is that: "Come to me, all ye that labor and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Hearken to it, and with
echoes of devotion reply, "My Saviour, I come unto Thee!" That
grace of God which bringeth salvation, has the joyful sound of the
silver trumpets in it. Now, your echoes to the trumpet must be
these: Lord, I desire, I resolve to lead a godly, a sober, a righteous
life before Thee!
My friends, the last trumpet that is to sound at the appearance
of the glorious Lord, who is to judge the world, will ere long summon you to give an account of your compliance with the silver
trumpets of God. You that now hear the joyful sound of these
trumpets, must ere long hear the awful sound of that amazing trumpet. A loud and a shrill trumpet will sound, " Arise, ye dead, and
come to ju dgment." Oh! may our compliance with the joyful sound
of the silver trumpets now be such that we may find mercy in that
day. So comply with it now that the joyful sound of a, " Come ye
blessed," may be heard by you in the day when " the times of re.
freshing shall come from the presence of the Lord."




DISCOURSE SIXTY SEVENTH
JONATHAN EDWARDS.
THIS distinguished metaphysician and divine was born at Windsor
Connecticut, October 5, 1703. His father was a usefuil minister of the
Gospel. His mother, to whom he owed so much for his early religious
training, was a woman of great piety and remarkable intelligence. Her
character has been thus sketched: —" Devotedly pious, consecrated to
her work, and entering into all her husband's plans of usefulness, she
was, at the same time, remarkably intellectual. Her concealed metaphysics br oke out amid kitchen and parish duties; and even in her devotions she was a philosopher without knowing it. Inferior to her husband in taste and years of life, she possessed a more stern and powerful
intellect, fond of reasoning, of studying philosophy, and pondering the
deepest problems of theology. Had Paul's prohibition been out of the
way, she might have eclipsed her companion in the pulpit, and anticipated the fame of her immortal son."
While a boy, Edwards read Locke on the Understanding, and similar
works, with a keen relish. He was graduated at Yale College before he
was seventeen years of age. After preaching a few months in New York,
he was appointed tutor at Yale College in 1724. Here he continued till
1726, when he was invited to preach in Northampton, Mass., where he was
ordained, as colleague of his grandfather, Mr. Stoddard, in Feb. 1727.
He continued in this place more than twenty-three years, and the Lord
crowned his labors with abundant success. The "Great Awakening"
commenced under his preaching.*  From August, 1751, he was six
years missionary to the Housatonic Indians, Stockbridge, Mass. During
this time he prioduced some of his great works, which gave him a worldwide reputation. In 1758 he accepted the office of President of Princeton College, New Jersey; but he died from small-pox, by inoculation,
March 22, 1758, only a few months after his appointment, aged fifty.
four years. His last words were, "Trust in God, and ye need not
fear."
It has been said of Edwards, that he would have been the greatest
* See Sketch of American Pulpit.




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN AN4 RY GOD. 395
of philosophers, if he had not been the greatest of divines. The secret
of his intellectual strength lay in the faculty of abstraction; bestowed
upon him, perhaps, in as great plenitude as upon any other man. It is
not needful to speak of his many profound writings, which take rank
among the very highest of uninspired productions.
As a preacher Edwards has been rarely if ever excelled since the
days of the apostles. His manner was not oratorical, and his voice was
feeble; but this was of little account, with so much directness and richness of thought, and such overwhelming power of argument, pressed
home upon the conscience and the heart. In vain did any one attempt to
escape from falling a prey under his mighty appeal. It was in the application of his subject that he specially excelled. The part of the sermon
before this was only preparatory. Here was the stretching out of the
arms of the discourse, to borrow a figure, upon the hearts and lives of
his audience. "It was a kind of moral inquisition; and sinners were
put upon argumentative racks, and beneath screws, and with an awful
revolution of the great truth in hand, evenly and steadily screwed down
and crushed."
The most celebrated sermon of Edwards is that which is here given;
preached at Enfield, Connecticut, July 8, 1741. One said of it:-" I
think a person of moral sensibility, alone at midnight, reading that awful
discourse, would well-nigh go crazy. He would hear the judgment
trump, and see the advancing heaven, and the day of doom would begin
to mantle him with its shroud." This sermon gave a powerful impulse to
the great revival then progressing. The most wonderful effect was produced upon the audience during its delivery. It is stated that the hearers groaned and shrieked convulsively; and their outcries of distress
once drowned the preacher's voice, and compelled him to make a long
pause. Some of the audience actually seized fast hold upon the pillars
and braces of the meeting-house, as if that very moment their sliding
feet were precipitating them into the gulf of ruin; and a fellow-clergy.
man, sitting at the time in the pulpit, cried out, " Mr. Edwards, Mr.
Edwards! Is not God merciful too?"
SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD.
" Their foot shall slide in due time." —DEUT. rxxii. 35.
In this verse is threatened the vengeance of God on the wicked,
unbelieving Israelites, who were God's visible people, and lived
under means of grace; and who, notwithstanding all God's wonderful works that He had wrought toward that people, yet remained,
as is expressed in the twenty-eighth verse, void of counsel, having no




396              JONATHAN EDWARDS.
understanding in them; and that, under all the cultivations of
heaven, brought forth bitter and poisonous fruit; as in the two
verses next preceding the text.
The expression that I have chosen for my text, " Their foot shall
slide in due time," seems to imply the following things, relating to
the punishment and destruction that these wicked Israelites were
exposed to:
1. That they were always exposed to destruction; as one that
stands or walks in slippery places is always exposed to fall. This is
implied in the manner of their destruction's coming upon them, being represented by their foot's sliding. The same is expressed in
the seventy-third Psalm: " Surely Thou didst set them in slippery
places; Thou castedst them down into destruction."
2. It implies that they were always exposed to sudden, unexpected destruction. As he that walks ia slippery places is every
moment liable to fall, he can not foresee one moment whether he
shall stand or fall the next; and when he does fall, he falls at once,
without wavering, which is also expressed in the seventy-third
Psalm: "Surely Thou didst set them in slippery places: Thou
castedst them down into destruction: how are they brought into
desolation as in a moment!"
3. Another thing implied is, that they are liable to fall of themselves, without being thrown down by the hand of another; as he
that stands or walks on slippery ground needs nothing but his own
weight to throw him down.
4. That the reason why they are not fallen already, and do not
fall now, is only that God's appointed time is not come. For it is
said that when that due time or appointed time comes, " their feet
shall slide." Then they shall be left to fall, as they are inclined by
their own weight. God will not hold them  up in these slippery
places any longer, but will let them go; and then, at that very instant, they shall fall into destruction; as he that stands on such slippery, declining ground, on the edge of a pit, that he can not stand
alone, when he is let go he immediately falls and is lost.
The observation from the words that I would now insist upon is
this:
There is nothing that keeps wicked men at any one moment out
of hell but the mere pleasure of God.
By the mere pleasure of God I mean His sovereign pleasure, His
arbitrary will, restrained by no obligation, hindered by no manner
of difficulty, any more than if nothing else but God's mere will had




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD. 397
in the least degree or in any respect whatever any hand in the pres.
ervation of wicked men one moment.
The truth of this observation may appear by the following considerations:
1. There is no want of power in God to cast wicked men into
hell at any moment. Men's hands can not be strong when God
rises up: the strongest have no power to resist Him, nor can any
deliver out of His hands.
He is not only able to cast wicked men into hell, but He can
most easily do it. Sometimes an earthly prince meets with a great
deal of difficulty to subdue a rebel, that has found means to fortify
himself, and has made himself strong by the number of his followers.
But it is not so with God. There is no fortress that is any defense
against the power of God. Though hand join in hand, and vast
multitudes of God's enemies combine and associate themselves, they
are easily broken in pieces: they are as great heaps of light chaff
before the whirlwind; or large quantities of dry stubble before devouring flames. We find it easy to tread on and crush a worm that
we see crawling on the earth; so it is easy for us to cut or sunder a
slender thread that any thing hangs by; thus easy it is for God,
when He pleases, to cast His enemies down to hell. What are we,
that we should think to stand before Him, at whose rebuke the
earth trembles, and before whom the rocks are thrown down!
2. They deserve to be cast into hell; so that Divine justice never
stands in the way, it makes no objection against God's using His
power at any moment to destroy them. Yea, on the contrary, justice calls aloud for an infinite punishment of their sins. Divine
justice says of the tree that brings forth such grapes of Sodom,
" cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground?" The sword of Divine justice is every moment brandished over their hands, and it is
nothing but the hand of arbitrary mercy, and God's mere will that
holds it back.
3. They are already under a sentence of condemnation to hell.
They do not only justly deserve to be cast down thither, but the
sentence of the law of God-that eternal and immutable rule of
righteousness that God has fixed between Him and mankind-is
gone out against them; and stands against them; so that they are
bound over already to hell: "he that believeth not is condemned
already;" so that every unconverted man properly belongs to hell;
that is his place; from thence he is: "ye are from beneath;" and
thither he is found; it is the place that justice, and God's word, and
the sentoanae of His unchangeable law. assign to him.




898              JONATHAN EDWARDS.
4. They are now the objects of that very same anger and wrath
of God, that is expressed in the torments of hell; and the reason
why they do not go down to hell at each moment, is not because
God, in whose power they are, is not then very angry with them;
as angry as He is with many of those miserable creatures that He is
now tormenting in hell, and do there feel and bear the fierceness of
His wrath. Yea, God is a great deal more angry with great numbers that are now on earth; yea, doubtless, with many that are no'w
in this congregation, that, it may be, are at ease and quiet, than He
is with many of those that are now in the flames of hell.
So that it is not because God is unmindful of their wickedness,
and does not resent it, that He does not let loose His hand and cut
them off. God is not altogether such a one as themselves, though
they imagine Him to be so. The wrath of God burns against them;
their damnation does not slumber; the pit is prepared; the fire is
made ready; the furnace is now hot, ready to receive them; the
flames do now rage and glow. The glittering sword is whet, and held
over them, and the pit hath opened her mouth under them.
5. The devil stands ready to fall upon them, and seize them as
his own, at what moment God shall permit him. They belong to
him; he has their souls in his possession, and under his dominion.
The Scripture represents them as his goods. The devils watch them;
they are ever by them, at their right hand; they stand waiting fox
them, like greedy, hungry lions that see their prey, and expect to
have it, but are for the present kept back; if God should withdraw
His hand by which they are restrained, they would in one moment
fly upon their poor souls. The old Serpent is gaping for them;
hell opens its mouth wide to receive them; and if God should permit, they would be hastily swallowed up and lost.
6. There are in the souls of wicked men those hellish principles
reigning, that would presently kindle and flame out in hell-fire, if it
were not for God's restraints. There is laid in the very nature of
carnal men, a foundation for the torments of hell: there are those
corrupt principles, in reigning power in them, and in full possession
of them, that are the beginnings of hell-fire. These principles are
active and powerful, exceeding violent in their nature, and if it were
not for the restraining hand of God upon them, they would soon
break out, they would flame out after the same manner as the same
corruptions, the same enmity does in the hearts of damned souls,
and would beget the same torments in them as they do in them.
The souls of the wicked are in Scripture compared to the troubled
sea, For the present God restrains their wickedness by His mighty




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD   899
power, as He does the raging waves of the troubled sea, saying,
"Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further;" but if God should withdraw that restraining power, it would soon carry all before it. Sin
is the ruin and misery of the soul; it is destructive in its nature;
and if God should leave it without restraint, there would need nothing else to make the soul perfectly miserable. The corruption of
the heart of man is a thing that is immoderate and boundless
in its fury; and while wicked men live here, it is like fire pent up
rby God's restraints, whereas if it were let loose, it would set on fire
the course of nature; and as the heart is now a sink of sin, so, if
sin was not restrained, it would immediately turn the soul into a
fiery oven, or a furnace of fire and brimstone.
7. It is no security to wicked men for one moment, that there
are no visible means of death at hand. It is no security to a natural
man, that he is now in health, and that he does not see which way
he should now immediately go out of the world by any accident, and
that there is no visible danger in any respect in his circumstances.
The manifold and continual experience of the world in all ages,
shows that this is no evidence that a man is not on the very brink
of eternity, and that the next step will not be into another world.
The unseen, unthought-of ways and means of persons going suddenly out of the world are innumerable and inconceivable. Unconverted men walk over the pit of hell on a rotten covering, and there
are innumerable places in this covering, so weak that they will not
bear their weight, and these places are not seen. The arrows of
death fly unseen at noon-day; the sharpest sight can not discern
them. God has so many different, unsearchable ways of taking
wicked men out of the world and sending them to hell, that there is
nothing to make it appear, that God had need to be at the expense
of a miracle, or go out of the ordinary course of his Providence, to
destroy any wicked man, at any moment. All the means that there
are of sinners going out of the world, are so in God's hand, and so
absolutely subject to His power and determination, that it does not
depend at all less on the mere will of God, whether sinners shall at
any moment go to hell, than if means were never made use of or
at all concerned in the case.
8. Natural men's prudence and care to preserve their own
lives, or the care of others to preserve them, do not secure them a
moment. This, Divine providence and universal experience do
also bear testimony to. There is this clear evidence that men's own
wisdom is no security to them from death: that if it were otherwise we should see some difference between the wise and politic men




400              JONATHAN EDWARDS.
of the world, and others, with regard to their liableness to ea-ly and
unexpected death; but how is it in fact?  "How dieth the wise
man? As the fool."
9. All wicked men's pains and contrivance they use to escape
hell, while they continue to reject Christ, and so remain wicked men,
do not secure them from hell one moment. Almost every natural
man that hears of hell, flatters himself that he shall escape it; he
depends upon himself for his own security; he flatters himself in
what he has done, in what he is now doing, or what he intends to
do; every one lays out matters in his own mind how he shall avoid
damnation, and flatters himself that he contrives well for himself,
and that his schemes will not fail. They hear, indeed, that there
are but few sacred, and that the bigger part of men that have died
heretofore are gone to hell; but each one imagines that he lays out
matters better for his own escape than others have done: he does
not intend to come to that place of torment; he says within himself,
that he intends to take care that shall be effectual, and to order matter so for himself as not to fail.
But the foolish children of men do miserably delude themselves
in their own schemes, and in their confidence in their own strength
and wisdom, they trust to nothing but a shadow. The bigger part
of those that heretofore have lived under the same means of grace,
and are now dead, are undoubtedly gone to hell; and it was not because they were not as wise as those that are now alive; it was not
because they did not lay out matters as well for themselves to secure
their own escape. If it were so that we could come to speak with
them, and could inquire of them, one by one, whether they expected,
when alive, and when they used to hear about hell, ever to be subjects of that misery, we, doubtless, should hear one and another
reply, " No, I never intended to come here: I had laid out matters
otherwise in my mind; I thought I should contrive well for myself;
I thought my scheme good: I intended to take effectual care; but it
came upon me unexpectedly; I did not look for it at that time, and
in that manner; it came as a thief; death outwitted me. God's
wrath was too quick for me: O, my cursed foolishness   [ was flattering myself, and pleasing myself with vain dreams of what I would
do hereafter; and when I was saying peace and safety, then sudden
destruction came upon me."
10. God has laid Himself under no obligations, by any promise,
to keep any natural man out of hell one moment: God certainly has
made no promises either of eternal life, or of any deliverance or
preservation from eternal death, but what are contained in the cove,




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD. 401
nant of grace, the promises that are given in Christ, in whom all the
promises are yea and amen. But surely they have no interest in the
promises of the covenant of grace that are not the children of the
covenant, and that do not believe in any of the promises of the cove.
nant, and have no interest in the Mediator of the covenant.
So that, whatever some have imagined and pretended about
promises made to natural men's earnest seeking and knocking, it is
plain and manifest that whatever pains a natural man takes in religion, whatever prayers he makes, till he believes in Christ, God is
under no manner of obligation to keep him a moment from eternal
destruction.
So that thus it is, that natural men are held in the hand of God
over the pit of hell; they have deserved the fiery pit, and are already sentenced to it; and God is dreadfully provoked, His anger is
as great toward them as to those that are actually suffering the executions of the fierceness of His wrath in hell, and they have done
nothing in the least to appease or abate that anger, neither is God in
the least bound by any promise to hold them up one moment; the
devil is waiting for them, hell is gaping for them, the flames gather
and flash about them, and would fain lay hold on them and swallow
them up; the fire pent up in their own hearts is struggling to break
out; and they have no interest in any Mediator, there are no means
within reach that can be any security to them. In short, they have
no refuge, nothing to take hold of; all that preserves them every
moment is the mere arbitrary will, and uncovenanted, unobliged for.
bearance of an incensed God.
APPLICATION.
The use may be of awakening to unconverted persons in this
congregation. This that you have heard is the case of every one
of you that are out of Christ. That world of misery, that lake of
burning brimstone, is extended abroad under you. There is the
dreadful pit of the glowing flames of the wrath of God; there is
hell's wide gaping mouth open; and you have nothing to stand upon,
nor any thing to take hold of. There is nothing between you and
hell but the air; it is only the power and mere pleasure of God that
holds you up.
You probably are not sensible of this; you find you are kept out
of hell, but do not see the hand of God in it; but look at other
things, as the good state of your bodily constitution, your care of your
own life, and the means you use for your own preservation. But
indeed these things are nothing; if God should withdraw His hand
26




402             JONATHAN EDWARDS.
they would avail no more to keep you from falling ihan the thin air
to hold up a person that is suspended in it.
Your wickedness makes you, as it were, heavy as lead, and to
tend downward with great weight and pressure toward hell; and if
God should let you go you would immediately sink and swiftly descend and plunge into the bottomless gulf, and your healthy constitution, and your own care and prudence, and best contrivance, and
all your righteousness, would have no more influence to uphold you
and keep you out of hell than a spider's web would have to stop a
falling rock. Were it not that so is the sovereign pleasure of God,
the earth would not bear you one moment; for you are a burden to
it; the creation groans with you; the creature is made subject to the
bondage of your corruption, not willingly; the sun does not willingly shine upon you to give you light to serve sin and Satan;.he
earth does not willingly yield her increase to satisfy your lusts; nor
is it willingly a stage for your wickedness to be acted upon; the air
does not willingly serve you for breath to maintain the flame of life
in your vitals, while you spend your life in the service of God's enemies. God's creatures are good, and were made for man to serve
God with, and do not willingly subserve to any other purpose, and
groan when they are abused to purposes so directly contrary to their
nature and end. And the world would spew you out, were it not for
the sovereign hand of Him who hath subjected it in hope. There
are the black clouds of God's wrath now hanging directly over your
heads, full of the dreadful storm, and big with thunder; and were
it not for the restraining hand of God it would immediately burst
forth upon you. The sovereign pleasure of God, for the present,
stays His rough wind; otherwise it would come with fury, and your
destruction would come like a whirlwind, and you would be like the
chaff of the summer thrashing-floor.
The wrath of God is like great waters that are dammed for the
present; they increase more and more, and rise higher and higher,
till an outlet is given; and the longer the stream is stopped the more
rapid and mighty is its course, when once it is let loose. It is true, that
judgment against your evil work has not been executed hitherto;
the floods of God's vengeance have been withheld; but your guilt
in the mean time is constantly increasing, and you are every day
treasuring up more wrath; the waters are continually rising, and
waxing more and more mighty; and there is nothing but the mere
pleasure of God that holds the waters back, that are unwilling to be
stopped, and press hard to go forward. If God should only with.
draw His hand from the flood.gate, it would immediately fly open,




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN ANGRY GOD. 403
and the fiery floods of the fierceness and wrath of God would rush
forth with inconceivable fury, and would come upon you with omnipotent power; and if your strength were ten thousand times
greater than it is, yea, ten thousand times greater than the strength
of the stoutest, sturdiest devil in hell, it would be nothing to withstand or endure it.
The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on.he string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the
bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an
angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the
arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood.
Thus are all you that never passed under a great change of heart
by the mighty power of the Spirit of God upon your souls; all that
were never born again, and made new creatures, and raised from
being dead in sin, to a state of new, and before altogether unexperienced light, and life (however you may have reformed your life in
many things, and may have had religious affections, and may keep
up a form of religion in your families and closets, and in the houses
of God, and may be strict in it), you are thus in the hands of an angry God; it is nothing but His mere pleasure that keeps you from
being this moment swallowed up in everlasting destruction.
However unconvinced you may now be of the truth of what you
hear, by and by you will be fully convinced of it. Those that are
gone from being in the like circumstances with you, see that it was
so with them; for destruction came suddenly upon most of them
when they expected nothing of it, and while they were saying, peace
and safety: now they see that those things that they depended on
for peace and safety were nothing but thin air and empty shadows.
The God that holds you over the pit of hell much as one holds a
spider or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is
dreadfully provoked; His wrath toward you burns like fire; He
looks upon you as worthy of nothing else but to be cast into the fire;
He is of purer eyes than to bear you in His sight; you are ten thousand times as abominable in His eyes, as the most hateful and venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended Him infinitely more than
ever a stubborn rebel did his prince; and yet it is nothing but His
hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment; it is
ascribed to nothing else that you did not go to hell the last night
that you were suffered to awake again in this world, after you closed
your eyes to sleep; and there is no other reason to be given why you
have not dropped into hell since you arose in the morning, but that
God's hand has held you up; there is no other reason to be given




404               JONATHAN EDWARDS.
why you have not gone to hell, since you have sat here in the house
of God, provoking His pure eye by your sinful wicked manner of
attending His solemn worship; yea, there is nothing else that is to
be given as a reason why you do not this very moment drop down into
hell.
O sinner! consider the fearful danger you are in: it is a great
furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of wrath
that you are held over in the hands of that God whose wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you as against many of the damned
in hell; you hang by a slender thread, with the flames of Divine
wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe it, and
burn it asunder; and you have no interest in any mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save yourself, nothing to keep off the flames of
wrath, nothing of your own, nothing that you have ever done, nothing that you can do to induce God to spare you one moment.
And consider here more particularly several things concerning
that wrath that you are in such danger of.
i. Whose wrath it is. It is the wrath of the infinite God. If it
were only the wrath of man, though it were of the most potent
prince, it would be comparatively little to be regarded. The wrath
of kings is very much dreaded, especially of absolute monarchs, that
have the possessions and lives of their subjects wholly in their power,
to be disposed of at their mere will. "The fear of a king is as the
roaring of a lion: whoso provoketh him to anger sinneth against his
own soul." The subject that very much enrages an arbitrary prince
is liable to suffer the most extreme torments that human art can invent,
or human power can inflict. But the greatest earthly potentates, in
their greatest majesty and strength, and when clothed in their greatest terrors, are but feeble, despicable worms of the dust in comparison
of the great and almighty Creator, and King of heaven and earth; it
is but little that they can do when most enraged, and when they
have exerted the utmost of their fury. All the kings of the earth
before God are as grasshoppers; they are nothing, and less than
nothing; both their love and their hatred is to be despised. The
wrath of the great King of kings is as much more terrible than theirs,
as His majesty is greater. "And I say unto you, My friends, be not
afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that
they can do. But I will forewarn you whom you shall fear: fear
Him, which after He hath killed, hath power to cast into hell: yea,
I say unto you, fear Him.
2. It is the fierceness of His wrath that you are exposed to. We
opfen read of the fury of God, as in Isaiah lix. 18. "According tc




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN- ANGRY GOT. 405
their deeds, accordingly He will repay fury to His adversaries." So
Isaiah lxvi. 15. " For behold the Lord will come with fire, and with
His chari )ts like a whirlwind, to render His anger with fury, and His
rebuke with flames of fire." And so in many other places; so we
read of God's fierceness Rev. xix. 15. There we read of "The
wine-press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God." The
words are exceedingly terrible; if it had only been said, " the wrath
of God," the words would have implied that which is infinitely dreadful: but it is not only said so, but " the fierceness and wrath of God,"
the fury of God! the fierceness of Jehovah I Oh how dreadful must
that be  Who can utter or conceive what such expressions carry in
them! But it is not only said so, but "the fierceness and wrath of
Almighty God." As though there would be a very great manifestation of His Almighty power in what the fierceness of His wrath
should inflict, as though omnipotence should be as it were enraged,
and exerted, as men are wont to exert their strength in the fiercenes:,
of their wrath. Oh, then, what will be the consequence! What w.1l
become of the poor worm that shall suffer it I Whose hands can oe
strong! And whose heart endure I To what a dreadful, inexpr;ssible, inconceivable depth of misery must the poor creature be sunk
who shall be the subject of this!
Consider this, you that are here present, that ye remain in an unregenerate state. That God will execute the fierceness of His anger
implies that He will inflict wrath without any pity; when God beholds
the ineffable extremity of your case, and sees your torment so vastly
disproportioned to your strength, and sees how your poor soul is
crushed, and sinks down, as it were, into an infinite gloom, L 3 will
have no compassion upon you, He will not forbear the executia  of
His wrath, or in the least lighten His hand; there shall be no milderation or mercy, nor will God then at all stay His rough winds; ile
will have no regard to your welfare, nor be at all careful lest you should
suffer too much in any other sense, than only that you should not
suffer beyond what strict justice requires: nothing shall be withheld
because it is too hard for you to bear. " Therefore will I also deal
in fury; Mine eye shall not spare, neither will I have pity; and
though they cry in Mine ear with a loud voice, yet will I not hear
them." Now God stands ready to pity you; this is a day of mercy;
you may cry now with some encouragement of obtaining mercy:
but when once the day of mercy is passed, your most lamentable and
dolorous cries and shrieks will be in vain; you will be wholly lost
and thrown away of God, as to any regard to your welfare; God
will have no other use to put you to, but only to suffer misery; you




406              JONATHAN EDWARDS,
shall be continued in being to no other end, for you will be a vessel
of wrath fitted to destruction; and there will be no other use of this
vessel but only to be filled fiull of wrath; God will be so far from
pityting you when you cry to Him, that it is said He will only " laugh
and mock."
How awful are those words, which are the words of the great
God: " I will tread them in Mine anger, and trample them in My
fury, and their blood shall be sprinkled upon My garments, and I
will stain all My raiment." It is perhaps impossible to conceive of
words that carry in them greater manifestations of these three things,
viz., contempt, and hatred, and fierceness of indignation. If you cry
to God to pity you, He will be so far from pitying you in your doleful case, or showing you the least regard or favor, that instead of
that, He will only tread you under foot; and though He will know
that you can not bear the weight of Omnipotence treading upon you,
yet He will not regard that, but He will crush you under His feet
vithout mercy; He will crush out your blood, and make it fly, and
ii shall be sprinkled on His garments, so as to stain all His raiment.
II will not only hate you, but He will have you in the utmost contempt; no place shall be thought fit for you but under His feet, to
be trodden down as the mire in the streets.
3. The misery you are exposed to is that which God will inflict
to that end, that He might show what that wrath of Jehovah is.
God hath had it on His heart to show to angels and men, both how
excellent His love is, and also how terrible His wrath is. Sometimes
earthly kings have a mind to show how terrible their wrath is, by
the e' treme punishments they would execute on those that provoke
then. Nebuchadnezzar, that mighty and haughty monarch of the
Chaldean empire, was willing to show his wrath when enraged with
Shadrach, Meshech and Abednego; and accordingly gave orders
tnat the burning fiery furnace shall be heated seven times hotter
than it was before; doubtless it was raised to the utmost degree of
fierceness that human art could raise it; but the great God is also
willing to show His wrath, and magnify His awful Majesty and
mighty power in the extreme sufferings of His enemies. " What if
God, willing to show His wrath, and to make His power known, endured with much long.suffering, the vessels of wrath fitted to destruotion?" And seeing this is His design, and what He has determined,
to show how terrible the unmLxed, unrestrained wrath, the fury and
fierceness of Jehovah is, He will do it to effect. There will be something accomplished and brought to pass that will be with a witness.
When the great and angry God hath risen up and executed His




SINNERS IN THE HANDS OF AN  INGRY GOD.  4t07
awful vengeance on the poor sinner, and the wretch is actually suffering the infinite weight and power of His indignation, then will God
call upon the whole universe to behold that awful majesty and
mighty power that is to be seen in it. "And the people shall be as
the burnings of lime, as thorns cut up shall they be burnt in the fire.
Hear ye, that are afar off, what I have done; and ye that are near,
acknowledge My might. The sinners in Zion are afraid; fearful
ness hath surprised the hypocrites," etc.
Thus it will be with you that are in an unconverted state, if you
continue in it; the infinite might, and majesty, and terribleness of
the Omnipotent God shall be magnified upon you in the ineffable
strength of your torments: you shall be tormented in the presence
of the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb; and when you
shall be in the state of suffering, the glorious inhabitants of heaven
shall go forth and look on the awful spectacle, that they may see
what the wrath and fierceness of the Almighty is; and when they
have seen it, they will fall down and adore that great Power and
Majesty: " And it shall come to pass, that from one new moon to another, and from one Sabbath to another, shall all flesh come to wortihip before Me, saith the Lord. And they shall go forth and look
upon the carcasses of the men that have transgressed against Me;
for their worm shall not die, neither shall their fire be quenched, and
they shall be an abhorring unto all flesh."
4. It is everlasting wrath. It would be dreadful to suffer this
fierceness and wrath of Almighty God one moment; but you must
suffer it to all eternity: there will be no end to this exquisite, horrible misery; when you look forward, you shall see along forever a
boundless duration before you, which will swallow up your thoughts,
and amaze your soul; and you will absolutely despair of ever
having any deliverance, any end, any mitigation, any rest at all;
you will know certainly that you must wear out long ages, millions
of millions of ages in wrestling and conflicting with this Almighty,
merciless vengeance; and then when you have so done, when so
many ages have actually been spent by you in this manner, you will
know that all is but a point to what remains, so that your punishment will indeed be infinite. Oh! who can express what the state
of a soul in such circumstances is! All that we can possibly say
about it, gives but a very feeble, faint representation of it; it is inexpressible and inconceivable: for " who knows the power of God's
anger?"
How dreadful is the state of those that are daily and houvly in
danger of this great wrath and infinite misery I But this is the dis



408              JONATHAN EDWARDS.
mal case of every soul in this congregation that has not been born
again, however moral and strict, sober and religious they may other.
wise be. Oh I that you w.uld consider it, whether you be young or
old! There is reason to think that there are many in this congregation
now hearing this discourse, that will actually be the subjects of this
very misery to all eternity. We know not who they are, or in what
seats they sit, or what thoughts they now have-it may be they are
now at ease, and hear all these things without much disturbance, and
are now flattering themselves that they are not the persons;
promising themselves that they shall escape. If we knew that there
was one person, and but one, in the whole congregation, that was to
be the subject of this misery, what an awful thing it would be to
think of! If we knew who it was, what an awful sight it would be
to see such a person! How might all the rest of the congregation
lift up a lamentable and bitter cry over him! But, alas I instead of
one, how many is it likely will remember this discourse in hell!
And it would be a wonder, if some that are now present should not
be in hell in a very short time, before this year is out. And it
would be no wonder if some persons, that now sit here in some seats
of this meeting-house in health, and quiet and secure, should be there
before to-morrow morning 




DISCOURSE SIXTY EIGHTH.
SAMUEL DAVIES.
DAVIES was born November 3d, 1724, in Newcastle, then in the
province of Pennsylvania, but now in the State of Delaware. He is
supposed to have been of Welsh descent. His father died while he was
young; but the prayers, instructions, and pious example of his mother
were blessed in preparing him for a life of distinguished piety and usefulness. He was converted at about the age of thirteen, and soon after
formed the purpose of devoting himself to the ministry. Not being able
to obtain a Collegiate education, he prosecuted his studies in a more
private manner; and was licensed to preach by the Presbytery of Newcastle when he was just twenty-one years of age. At first he visited
several vacancies, some in Pennsylvania, some in New Jersey, some in
Maryland, where his preaching was much blessed; but in 1748 he located
at Hanover, Pennsylvania. In 1753 he was sent to England to solicit
fimds for Princeton College. On his return he resumed his labors at
Hanover, where he continued till chosen President of Princeton College
in 1759, as successor of MSr. Edwards. At the close of January, 1761, he
was bled for a severe cold; his arm became inflamed, and a violent fever
ensued, to which he fell a victim, February 4, 1761, aged 36 years.
Mr. Davies was a model of the most striking pulpit oratory. His
frame was tall, erect, and comely; his carriage easy, graceful, and dignified, his voice clear, loud, melodious, and well modulated, his natural
genius strong and masculine, his mind clear, his invention quick, his imagination sprightly and florid, his thoughts sublime, and his words chaste,
strong, and expressive. He seldom preached without producing some
visible impression upon his large audiences. When on a visit to England
he was invited to preach before George the Third. His majesty and the
youthful queen were so enchanted by his eloquence, that the king interrupted the service with expressions of applause. The preacher, making
a pause, and fixing his eye upon the monarch said, " When the lion roars
the beasts of the forest trem ble; when Jehovah speaks, let the kings of
the earth keep silence!" Patrick Henry lived for about ten years in the
neighborhood of Davies, and is said to have been stimulated to his maw




410                  SA.MUEL DAVIES.
terly efforts by hearing his discourses. He often spoke of the great
preacher's abilities with enthusiastic praise.
The sermons of Davies were prepared with great care, and generally
carried into the pulpit, but delivered with freedom without being confined to his manuscript. He often extemporized, and with marked effect.
There are few discourses more worthy of study and frequent perusal by
ministers than those of Samuel Davies. A friend of revivals, writing
out of a full heart, burning with zeal for God and love for perishing
souls, no one can read his productions without being thrilled, and aroused,
and profited. The late William Jay, in his autobiography says, "I confess no discourses ever appeared to me better adapted to awaken the
conscience and impress the heart."  "They seem to have been written
by a man who never looked off fiom the value of a soul, and the importance of eternity." He has discourses more lofty and overpowering
than the one here given; but none more worthy of the reputation which
this has acquired as a masterpiece. This sweet discourse, breathing the
compassion of Jesus, may fitly succeed Edwards' sermon, flaming and
flashing with the wrath of an avenging God.
THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS.
" A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench."-MATT.
xii. 20.
The Lord Jesus possesses all those virtues in the highest perfeotion, which render Him infinitely amiable, and qualify Him for the
administration of a just and gracious -government over the world.
The virtues of mortals, when carried to a high degree, very often
run into those vices which have a kind of affinity to them. " Right,
too rigid, hardens into wrong." Strict justice steels itself into excessive severity; and the man is lost in the judge. Goodness and
mercy sometimes degenerate into softness and an irrational compassion inconsistent with government. But in Jesus Christ these seemingly opposite virtues center and harmonize in the highest perfection,
without running into extremes. Hence He is at once characterized
as a Lamb, and as the Lion of the tribe of Judah: a lamb for gentleness toward humble penitents, and a lion to tear His enemies in
pieces. Christ is said to "judge and snake war," and yet He is called
"The Prince of Peace."  He will at length show Himself terrible
to the workers of iniquity; and the terrors of the Lord are a very
proper topic whence to persuade men; but now He is patient to




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVJRS. 411
ward all men, and He is all love and tenderness toward the meanest
penitent. The meekness and gentleness of Christ is to be the pleas.
ing entertainment of this day; and I enter upon it with a particular
view to those mourning, desponding souls among us, whose weakness renders them in great need of strong consolation. To such in
particular, I address the words of my text, "A bruised reed shall
He not break, and smoking flax shall He not quench."
This is a part of the Redeemer's character, as delineated nearly
three thousand years ago, by the evangelical prophet Isaiah; and it
is expressly applied to Him by St. Matthew: "Behold," says the
Father, " My Servant whom I have chosen" for the important undertaking of saving the guilty sons of men; " My Beloved in whom
My soul is well pleased;" My very soul is well pleased with His
faithful discharge of the important office He has undertaken. "I
will put My Spirit upon Him;" that is, I will completely furnish
Him by the gifts of My Spirit for His high character; and " He
shall show judgment to the Gentiles;" to the poor benighted Gentiles He shall show the light of salvation, by revealing the Gospel
to them; which, in the style of the Old Testament, may be called
His judgments. Or, He will show and execute the judgment of this
world by casting out its infernal prince, who had so long exercised
an extensive cruel tyranny over it. "He shall not strive nor cry,
neither shall any man hear His voice in the street;" that is, though
He enters the world as a mighty prince and conqueror, to establish
a kingdom of righteousness, and overthrow the kingdom of darkness, yet He will not introduce it with the noisy terrors and thunders
of war, but shall show Himself mild and gentle as the prince of
peace. Or the connection may lead us to understand these words in
a different sense, namely, He shall do nothing with clamorous ostentation, nor proclaim His wonderful works, when it shall answer no
valuable end. Accordingly the verse of our text stands thus connected: " Great multitudes followed Him; and He healed them all,
and charged them that they should not make Him known. That it
might be fulfilled which was spoken by Isaiah the prophet, saying,
-He shall not cry, neither shall any man hear His voice in the
streets;" that is, He shall not publish His miracles with noisy triumph in the streets and other public places. And when it is said,
1" He shall not strive," it may refer to His inoffensive, passive be.
havior toward His enemies that were plotting His death. For thus
we may connect this quotation from Isaiah with the preceding history in the chapter of our text:," Then the Pharisees went out, and
held a council against Him, how they might destroy Him. But when




412                 SAMUEL DAVIES.
Jesus knew it," instead of praying to His Father for a guard of angels, or employing His own miraculous power to destroy them, " He
withdrew Himself from thence; that it might be fulfilled which was
spoken by the prophet Isaiah, saying-He shall not strive."
The general meaning of my text seems to be contained in this
observation; "That the Lord Jesus has the tenderest and most compassionate regard to the feeblest penitent, however oppressed and
desponding; and that He will approve and cherish the least spark
of true love toward Himself."
A bruised reed seems naturally to represent a soul at once feeble
in itself, and crushed with a burden; a soul both weak'and oppressed. The reed is a slender, frail vegetable in itself, and therefore a very proper image to represent a soul that is feeble and weak.
A bruised reed is still more frail, hangs its head, and is unable to
stand without some prop. And what can be a more lively emblem
of a poor soul, not only weak in itself, but bowed down and broken
under a load of sin and sorrow, that droops and sinks, and is unable
to stand without Divine support? Strength may bear up under a
burden, or struggle with it, till it has thrown it off; but oppressed
weaknssS frailty under a burden, what can be more pitiable? and
yet this is the case of many a poor penitent. He is weak in himself, and in the mean time crushed under a heavy weight of guilt
and distress.
And what would become of such a frail oppressed creature, if,
instead of raising him up and supporting him, Jesus should tread
and crush him under the foot of His indignation? But though a
reed, especially a bruised reed, is an insignificant thing, of little oi
no use, yet " a bruised reed He will not break," but He raises it up
with a gentle hand, and enables it to stand, though weak in itself,
and easily crushed in ruin.
Perhaps the imagery, when drawn at length, may be this: "The
Lord Jesus is an Almighty Conqueror, marches in state through our
world; and here and there a bruised reed lies in His way. But instead of disregarding it, or trampling it under foot, He takes care
not to break it: He raises up the drooping straw, trifling as it is,
and supports it with His gentle hand." Thus, poor broken-hearted
penitents, thus He takes care of you, and supports you, worthless
and trifling as you are. Though you seem to lie in the way of His
justice, and it might tread you with its heavy foot, yet He not only
does not crush you, but takes you up, and inspires you with strength
to bear ySur burden and flourish again.




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS. 413
Or perhaps the imagery may be derived from the practice of the
ancient shepherds, who were wont to amuse themselves with the
music of a pipe of reed or straw; and when it was bruised they
broke it, or threw it away as useless. But the bruised reed shall
not be broken by this Divine Shepherd of souls. The music of
broken sighs and groans is indeed all that the broken reed can afford
Him: the notes are but low, melancholy, and jarring: and yet He
will not break the instrument, but He will repair and tune it, till it
is fit to join in the concert of angels on high; and even now its
humble strains are pleasing to His ears. Surely every broken heart
among us must revive, while contemplating this tender and moving
imagery.
The other emblem is equally significant and affecting.  "The
smoking flax shall He not quench." It seems to be an allusion to
the wick of a candle or lamp, the flame of which is put out, but it
still smokes, and retains a little fire which may be again blown into
a flame, or rekindled by the application of more fire. Many such
dying snuffs or smoking wicks are to be found in the candlesticks
of the churches, and in the lamps of the sanctuary. The flame of
Divine love is just expiring, it is sunk into the socket of a corrupt
heart, and produces no clear steady blaze, but only a smoke that is
disagreeable, although it shows that a spark of the sacred fire yet
remains; or it produces a faint quivering flame that dies away, then
catches and revives, and seems unwilling to be quenched entirely.
The devil and the world raise many storms of temptation to blow it
out; and a corrupt heart, like a fountain, pours out water to quench
it. But even this smoking flax, this dying snuff, Jesus will not
quench, but He blows it up into a flame, and pours in the oil of His
grace to recruit and nourish it. He walks among the golden candlesticks, and trims the lamps of His sanctuary. Where He finds
empty vessels without oil or a spark of heavenly fire, like those of
the foolish virgins, He breaks the vessels, or throws them out of
His house. But where He finds the least spark of true grace, where
He discovers but the glimpse of sincere love to Him, where He sees
the principle of true piety, which, though just expiring, yet renders
the heart susceptive of Divine love, as a candle just put out is easily
rekindled, there He will strengthen the things which remain and
are ready to die: He will blow up the dying snuff to a lively
flame, and cause it to shine brighter and brighter to the perfect day. Where there is the least principle of true holiness He
will cherish it. He will furnish the expiring lamp with fresh supplies of the oil of grace, and of heavenly fire; and all the storms




414                 SAMUEL DAVIES.
that beat upon it shall not be able to put it out, because sheltered
by His hand.
I hope, my dear brethren, some of you begin already to feel the
pleasing energy of this text. Are you not ready to say, Blessed
Jesus! is this Thy true character? Then Thou art just such a Saviour as I want, and I most willingly give up myself to Thee. You
are sensible you are at best but a bruised reed, a feeble, shattered,
useless thing: an untunable, broken pipe of straw, that can make
no proper music for the entertainment of your Divine Shepherd.
Your heart is at best but smoking flax, where the love of God often
appears like a dying snuff; or an expiring flame that quivers and
catches, and hovers over the lamp, just ready to go out. Such some
of you probably feel yourselves to be. Well, and what think ye of
Christ? " He will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax;" and therefore, may not even your guilty eyes look to this
gentle Saviour with encouraging hope? May you not say to Him,
with the sweet singer of Israel, in his last moments, "He is all my
salvation, and all my desire.
In prosecuting this subject I intend to illustrate the character of
a weak believer, as represented in my text, and then to illustrate the
care and compassion of Jesus Christ even for such a poor weakling.
I. I am to illustrate the character of a weak believer, as represented in my text, by "a bruised reed, and smoking flax."
The metaphor of a bruised reed, as I observed, seems most nat.
urally to convey the idea of a state of weakness and oppression.
And, therefore, in illustrating it I am naturally led to describe the
various weaknesses which a believer sometimes painfully feels, and
to point out the heavy burdens which he somnetimes groans under;
I say sometimes, for at other times even the weak believer finds himself strong, " strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might,
and strengthened with might by the Spirit in the inner man." The
joy of the Lord is His strength: and He " can do all things through
Christ strengthening Him." Even the oppressed believer at times
feels himself delivered from his burden, and he can lift up his drooping head, and walk upright. But, alas! the burden returns, and
crushes him again. And under some burden or other imany honesthearted believers groan out the most part of their lives.
Let us now see what are those weaknesses which a believer feels
and laments. He finds himself weak in knowledge; a simple child
in the knowledge of God and Divine things. He is weak in love;
the sacred flame does not rise with a perpetual fervor, and diffuse
itself through all his devotions, but at times it languishes and dies




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS. 415
away into a smoking snuff. He is weak in faith; he can not keep
a strong hold of the Almighty, can not suspend his all upon His
promises with cheerful confidence, nor build a firm, immovable fabric of hope upon the rock Jesus Christ. He is weak in hope; his
hope is dashed with rising billows of fears and jealousies, and sometimes just overset. He is weak in joy; he can not extract the sweets
of Christianity, nor taste the comforts of his religion. He is weak
in zeal for God and the interests of His kingdom; he would wish
himself always a flaming seraph, always glowing with zeal, always
unwearied in serving his God, and promoting the designs of redeeming love in the world; but, alas I at times his zeal, with his love,
languishes and dies away into a smoking snuff. He is weak in
repentance; troubled with that plague of plagues, a hard heart.
He is weak in the conflict with indwelling sin, that is perpetually
making insurrections within him. He is weak in resisting temptations; which crowd upon him from without, and are often likely to
overwhelm him. He is weak in courage to encounter the king of
terrors, and venture through the valley of the shadow of death.
He is weak in prayer, in importunity, in filial boldness, in approaching the mercy-seat. He is weak in abilities to endeavor the conversion of sinners and save souls from death. In short, he is weak in
every thing in which he should be strong. He has indeed, like the
church of Philadelphia, a little strength, and at times he feels it;
but oh I it seems to him much too little for the work he has to do.
These weaknesses or defects the believer feels, painfully and tenderly
feels, and bitterly laments. A sense of them keeps him upon his
guard against temptations: he is not venturesome in rushing into
the combat. He would not parley with temptation, but would keep
out of its way; nor would he run the risk of a defeat by an ostentatious experiment of his strength. This sense of weakness also
keeps him dependent upon Divine strength. He clings to that support given to St. Paul in an hour of hard conflict, " My grace is
sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect in weakness;"
and when a sense of his weakness has this happy effect upon him,
then with St. Paul he has reason to say, " When I am weak, then am
I strong."
I say the believer feels and laments these weaknesses; and this is
the grand distinction in this case between him and the rest of the world.
They are the weak too, much weaker than he; nay, they have, properly, no spiritual strength at all; but, alas I they do not feel their weakness but the poor vain creatures boast of their strength, and think
they can do great things when they are disposed for them. Or if




416                  SAMUEL DAVIES.
their repeated falls and defeats by temptation extort them to a col.
fession of their weakness, they plead it rather as an excuse than la.
ment it as at once a crime and a calamity. But the poor believer
tries no such artifice to extenuate his guilt. He is sensible that even
his weakness itself has guilt in it, and therefore he laments it with
ingenuous sorrow among his other sins.
Now, have I not delineated the very character of some of you?
such weaklings, such frail reeds you feel yourselves to be! Well,
hear this kind assurance-Jesus will not break such a feeble reed,
but He will support and strengthen it.
But you, perhaps, not only feel you are weak, but you are oppressed with some heavy burden or other. You are not only a reed
for weakness, but you are a bruised reed, trodden under foot,
crushed under a load. Even this is no unusual or discouraging case;
for
The weak believer often feels himself crushed under some heavy
burden. The frail reed is often bruised; bruised under a due sense
of guilt. Guilt lies heavy at times upon his conscience, and he can
not throw it off. Bruised with a sense of remaining sin, which he
finds still strong within him, and which at times prevails and treads
him under foot. Bruised under a burden of wants, the want of tenderness of heart, of ardent love to God and mankind, the want of
heavenly-mindedness and victory over the world; the want of conduct and resolution to direct his behavior in a passage so intricate
and difficult, and the want of nearer intercourse with the Father and
His Spirit; in short, a thousand pressing wants crush and bruise
him. He also feels his share of the calamities of life in common
with other men. But these burdens I shall take no further notice
of, because they are not peculiar to him as a believer, nor do they
lie heaviest upon his heart. He could easily bear up under the
calamities of life if his spiritual wants were supplied, and the burden
of guilt and sin were removed. Under these last he groans and
sinks. Indeed these burdens lie with all their full weight upon the
world around him; but they are dead in trespasses and sins, and
feel them not; they do not groan under them, nor labor for deliverance from them. They lie contented under them, with more stupidity than beasts of burden, till they sink under the intolerable load
into the depth of misery. But the poor believer is not so stupid,
and his tender heart feels the burden and groans under it. " We that
are in this tabernacle," says St. Paul, " do groan, being burdened."
The believer understands feelingly that pathetic exclamation, "0
wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the body of




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS. 41
this death?" He can not be easy till his conscience is appeased by
a well-attested pardon through the blood of Christ; and the sins he
feels working within him are a real burden and uneasiness to him,
though they should never break out into action, and publicly dishonor his holy profession.
And is not this the very character of some poor oppressed creatures among you? I hope it is. You may look upon your case to
be very discouraging, but Jesus looks upon it in a more favorable
light; He looks upon you as proper objects of His compassionate
care. Bruised as you are, He will bind up and support you.
II. But I proceed to take a view of the character of a weak
Christian, as represented in the other metaphor of my text, namely,
" smoking flax." The idea most naturally conveyed by this metaphor is, that of grace true and sincere, but languishing and just expiring, like a candle just blown out, which still smokes and retains
a feeble spark of fire. It signifies a susceptibility of a further grace,
or a readiness to catch that sacred fire, as a candle just put out is
easily rekindled. This metaphor, therefore, leads me to describe the
reality of religion in a low degree, or to delineate the true Christian
in his most languishing hours. And in so doing I shall mention
those dispositions and exercises which the weakest Christian feels,
even in these melancholy seasons; for even in these he widely differs still from the most polished hypocrite in his highest improvements. On this subject let me solicit your most serious attention;
for if you have the least spark of real religion within you, you are
now likely to discover it, as I am not going to rise to the high attainments of Christians of the first rank, but to stoop to the character of the meanest. Now the peculiar dispositions and exercises of
heart which such in some measure feel, you may discover from the
following short history of their case.
The weak Christian, in such languishing hours, does indeed
sometimes fall into such a state of carelessness and insensibility that
he has very few and but superficial exercises of mind about divine
things.  But generally he feels an uneasiness, an emptiness, an
anxiety within, under which he droops and pines away, and all the
world can not heal the disease. He has chosen the blessed God as
his supreme happiness; and when he can not derive happiness from
that source, all the sweets of created enjoyments become insipid to
him, and can not fill up the prodigious void which the absence of
the Supreme Good leaves in his craving soul. Sometimes his anxiety
is indistinct and confused, and he hardly knows what ails him; but
at other times he feels it is for God, the living God, that his soul
27




418                 SAMUEL DAVIES.
pants. The evaporations of this smoking flax naturally ascend to.
ward heaven. He knows that he never can be happy till he can
enjoy the communications of divine love. Let him turn which way
he will, he can find no solid ease, no rest, till he comes to this center
again.
Even at such times he can not be thoroughly reconciled to his
sins. He may be parleying with some of them in an unguarded
hour, and seem to be negotiating a peace; but the truce is soon
ended, and they are at variance again. The enmity of a renewed
heart soon rises against this old enemy. And there is this circumstance remarkable in the believer's hatred and opposition to sin, that
they do not proceed principally, much less entirely, from a fear of
punishment, but from a generous sense of its intrinsic baseness and
ingratitude, and its contrariety to the holy nature of God. This is
the ground of his hatred to sin, and sorrow for it; and this shows
that there is at least a spark of true grace in his heart, and that he
does not act altogether from the low, interested, and mercenary principles of nature.
At such times he is very jealous of the sincerity of his religion,
afraid that all his past experiences were delusive, and afraid that, if
he should die in his present state, he would be forever miserable. A
very anxious state is this! The stupid world can lie secure while
this grand concern lies in the most dreadful suspense. But the tender-hearted believer is not capable of such fool-hardiness: he shudders at the thought of everlasting separation from that God and Saviour whom he loves. He loves Him, and therefore the fear of sepaP
ration from Him fills him with all the anxiety of bereaved love.
This to him is the most painful ingredient of the punishment of hell.
Hell would be a sevenfold hell to a lover of God, because it is a
state of banishment from Him whom he loves. He could forever
languish and pine away under the consuming distresses of widowed
love, which those that love him can not feel. And has God kindled
the sacred flame in his heart in order to render him capable of the
more exquisite pain! Will He exclude from His presence the poor
creature that clings to Him, and languishes for Him! No, the flax
that does but smoke with His love was never intended to be fuel for
hell; but He will blow it up into a flame, and nourish it till it
mingles with the seraphic ardors in the region of perfect love.
The weak believer seems sometimes driven by the tempest of
lusts and temptation from off the rock of Jesus Christ. But he
makes toward it on the stormy billows, and labors to lay hold upon
it, and recover his station there; for he is sensible there is no other




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS. 419
foundation of safety; but that without Christ he must perish forever.
It is the habitual disposition of the believer's soul to depend upon
Jesus Christ alone. He retains a kind of direction or tendency toward Him, like the needle touched with the loadstone toward the
pole; and if his heart is turned from its course, it trembles and
quivers till it gains its favorite point again, and fixes there. Sometimes indeed a consciousness of guilt renders him shy of his God and
Saviour; and after such base ingratitude he is ashamed to go to
Him; but at length necessity as well as inclination constrains him,
and he is obliged to cry out, " Lord, to whom shall I go? Thou
hast the words of eternal life:" in Thee alone I find rest to my soul;
and therefore to Thee I must fly, though I am ashamed and confounded to appear in Thy presence.
In short, the weakest Christian upon earth sensibly feels that his
comfort rises and falls, as he lives nearer to or further from his God.
The love of God has such a habitual predominancy even in his
heart, that nothing in the world, nor even all the world together, can
fill up His place. No, when He is gone, heaven and earth can not
replenish the mighty void. Even the weakest Christian upon earth
longs to be delivered from sin, from all sin, without exception: and
a body of death hanging about him is the burden of his life. Even
the poor, jealous, languishing Christian has his hope, all the little
hope that he has, built upon Jesus Christ. Even this smoking flax
sends up some exhalations of love toward heaven. Even the poor
creature that often fears he is altogether a slave to sin, honestly,
though feebly labors to be holy, to be holy as an angel, yea, to be
holy, as God is holy. He has a heart that feels the attractive charms
of holiness, and he is so captivated by it, that sin can never recover
its former place in his heart; no, the tyrant is forever dethroned, and
the believer would rather die than yield himself a tame slave to the
usurped tyranny again.
Thus 1 have delineated to you, in the plainest manner I could,
the character of a weak Christian. Some of you, I am afraid, can
not lay claim even to this low character. If so, you may be sure
you are not true Christians even of the lowest rank. You may be
sure you have not the least spark of true religion in your hearts, but
are utterly destitute of it.
But some of you, I hope, can say, "Well, after all my doubts and
fears, if this be the character of a true, though weak Christian, then
I may humbly hope that I am one. I am indeed confirmed in it,
that I am less than the least of all other saints upon the face of the
earth but yet I see that I am a saint; for thus has my heart beer




420                 SAMUEL DAVIES.
exercised, even in my dark and languishing hours. This secret un.
easiness and pining anxiety, this thirst for God, for the living God,
this tendency of soul toward Jesus Christ, this implacable enmity to
sin, this panting and struggling after holiness, these things have I
often felt." And have you indeed? Then away with your doubts
and jealousies; away with your fears and despondencies! There is
at least an immortal spark kindled in your hearts, which the united
power of men and devils, of sin and temptation, shall never be able
to quench. No, it shall yet rise into a flame, and burn with seraphic
ardors forever.
For your further encouragement, I proceed,
II. To illustrate the care and compassion of Jesus Christ for such
poor weaklings as you.
This may appear a needless task to some: for who is there that
does not believe it? But to such would I say, it is no easy thing to
establish a trembling soul in the full belief of this truth. It is easy
for one that does not see his danger, and does not feel his extreme
need of salvation, and the difficulty of the work, to believe that Christ
is willing and able to save him. But O! to a poor soul, deeply sensible of its condition, this is no easy matter. Besides, the heart may
need be more deeply affected with this truth, though the understanding should need no further arguments of the speculative kind for its
conviction; and to impress this truth is my present design.
For this purpose I need but read and paraphrase to you a few of
the many kind declarations and assurances which Jesus has given us
in His Word, and relate the happy experiences of some of His saints
there recorded, who found Him true and faithful to His word.
The Lord Jesus Christ seems to have a peculiar tenderness for the
poor, the mourners, the broken-hearted; and these are peculiarly the
objects of His mediatorial office. " The Lord hath anointed Me (says
He) to preach good tidings to the meek; He hath sent Me (all the
way from My native heaven down to earth, upon this compassionate
errand) to bind up the broken-hearted, to appoint unto them that
mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for
mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." " Thus
saith the Lord (in strains of majesty that become Him), The heaven is
My throne, and the earth is My footstool: where is the house that ye
build unto Me? and where is the place of My rest? For all things
hath My hands made, saith the Lord." Had He spoken uniformly
in this majestic language to us guilty worms, the declaration might
have overwhelmed us with awe, but could not have inspired us with
hope. But He advances Himself thus high, on purpose to let us see




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS. 421
low low He can stoop. Hear the encouraging sequel of this His majestic speech: " To this man will I look, even to him that is poor,
and of a contrite spirit, and trembleth at My word." Let heaven and
earth wonder that He will look down through all the shining ranks
of angels, and look by princes and nobles, to fix His eye upon this
man, this poor man, this contrite, broken-hearted, trembling creature.
He loves to dwell upon this subject, and therefore you hear it again
in the same prophecy: " Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is holy," —what does He say? "I
dwell in the high and holy place." This is said in character. This
is a dwelling in some measure worthy the inhabitant. But O! will
He stoop to dwell in a lower mansion, or pitch His tent among mortals? yes, He dwells not only in His "high and holy place," but
also " with him that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the
spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones."
He charges Peter to " feed His lambs" as well as His sheep; that is,
to take the tenderest care even of the weakest in His flock. And He
severely rebukes the shepherds of Israel, " Because (says He) ye have
not strengthened the diseased, neither have ye healed that which was
sick, neither have ye bound up that which was broken." But what
an amiable reverse in the character of the great Shepherd and Bishop
of souls I "Behold (says Isaiah) the Lord will come with a strong
land, and His arm shall rule for Him: behold His reward is with
him, and His work is before Him." How justly may we tremble at
this proclamation of the approaching God! for who can stand when
He appeareth? But how agreeably are our fears disappointed in
what follows?  If He comes to take vengeance on His enemies, He
also comes to show mercy to the meanest of His people. " He shall
feed His flock like a shepherd, He shall gather the lambs with His
arms, and carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead those that
ire with young," that is, He shall exercise the tenderest and most
compassionate care toward the meanest and weakest of His flock.
"He looked down (says the Psalmist) from the height of His sanctuary; from heaven did the Lord behold the earth;" not to view the
grandeur and pride of courts and kings, nor the heroic exploits of
conquerors, but " to hear the groaning of the prisoner, to loose those
that are appointed to die. He will regard the prayer of the destitute,
and not despise their prayer. This shall be written for the generation to come." It was written for your encouragement, my brethren
Above three thousand years ago, this encouraging passage was entered into the sacred records for the support of poor desponding souls
in Virginia, in the ends of the earth. 0 what an early provident care




422                 SAMUEL DAVIES.
does God show for His people! There are none of the seven churches
of Asia so highly commended by Christ as that of Philadelphia; and
yet in commending her, all He can say is, "Thou hast a little
strength." " I know thy works; behold I have set before thee an
open door, and no man can shut it, for thou hast a little strength."
O how acceptable is a little strength to Jesus Christ, and how ready
is He to improve it. "He giveth power to the faint (says Isaiah),
and to them that have no might He increaseth strength."  Hear further what words of grace and truth flowed from the lips of Jesus.'Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest: for I am meek and lowly in heart."  " Him that cometh.unto Me, I will in nowise cast out." " If any man thirst, let him
come unto Me and drink." " Let him that is athirst come, and who~oever will, let him come and take of the water of life freely." O
what strong consolation is here! what exceedingly great and precious
promises are these I I might easily add to the catalogue, but these
may suffice.
Let us now see how His people in every age have ever found
these promises made good. Here David may be consulted instar
ornnium, and he will tell you, pointing to himself, " This poor man
cried, and the Lord heard and delivered him out of his troubles."
St. Paul, in the midst of affliction, calls God " the Father of mercies
and God of all comfort, who comforteth us in all our tribulation.
" God (says he), that comforteth those that are cast down, comfortetr.
us."  What a sweetly emphatic declaration is this I "God, the comforter of the humble, comforted us." He is not only the Lord of
hosts, the King of kings, the Creator of the world, but among His
more august characters He assumes this title, the Comforter of "the
humble."  Such St. Paul found Him in an hour of temptation, when
he had this supporting answer to his repeated prayer for deliverance,
"My grace is sufficient for thee; for My strength is made perfect ir
weakness." Since this was the case, since his weakness was more
than supplied by the strength of Christ, and was a foil to set it of;
St. Paul seems quite regardless what infirmities he labored under.
Nay, " Most gladly (says he) will I rather glory in my infirmities,
that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities-for when I am weak, then am I strong." He
could take no pleasure in feeling himself weak: but the mortification
was made up by the pleasure he found in leaning upon this almighty
support. His wounds were painful to him: but oh! the pleasure he
found in feeling the Divine Physician dressing his wounds, in some
measure swallowed up the pain. It was probably experience, as well




THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST TO WEAK BELIEVERS. 423
as inspiration, that dictated to the apostle that amiable character of
Christ, that He is a "merciful and faithful High Priest, who being
Himself tempted, knows how to succor them that are tempted." And
" we have not a high priest which can not be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we are,
yet without sin."
But why need I multiply arguments? Go to His cross, and
there learn His love and compassion, from His groans and wounds,
and blood, and death. Would He hang there in such agony for sir
ners if He were not willing to save them, and cherish every goon,
principle in them? There you may have much the same evidence
of His compassion as Thomas had of His resurrection; you may
look into His hands, and see the print of the nails; and into His side,
and see the scar of the spear; which loudly proclaims his readiness
to pity and help you.
And now, poor, trembling, doubting souls, what hinders but you
should rise up your drooping head, and take courage? May you
not venture your souls into such compassionate and faithful hands?
Why should the bruised reed shrink from Him, when He comes not
to tread it down, but raise it up?
As I am really solicitous that impenitent hearts among us should
be pierced with the medicinal anguish and sorrow of conviction and
epentance-and the most friendly heart can not form a kinder wish
for them-so I am truly solicitous that every honest soul, in whic}
there is the least spark of true piety, should enjoy the pleasure of it
It is indeed to be lamented that they who have a title to so much
happiness should enjoy so little of it; it is very incongruous that they
should go bowing their head in their way toward heaven, as if they
were hastening to the place of execution, and that they should serve
so good a Master with such heavy hearts. 0 lift up the hands that
hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees! " Comfort ye, comfort ye, My people, saith your God. Be strong in the Lord, and in
the power of His might." Trust in your all-sufficient Redeemer;
trust in Him though He should slay you.
And do not indulge causeless doubts and fears concerning your
sincerity. When they arise in your minds, examine them, and
search whether there be any sufficient reason for them; and if you
discover there is not, then reject them and set them at defiance, and
entertain your hopes in spite of them, and say with the Psalmist,
"' Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul, and why art thou disquieted
within me? Hope thou i i God, for I shall yet praise Him, the
health of my countenance, and my God




D.SCOURSE  SIXTY- NINTH
JOHN H. LIVINGSTON, D.D.,S.T.P.
THE celebrated President of Queen's College, New Jersey, was born
in 1747, and regularly graduated at Yale College. In May, 1766, he
went to Holland to prosecute his studies in theology in the University
of Utrecht, where he remained four years. Upon his return to America,
he became the pastor of the Reformed Dutch Church, in the city of
New York. At this period the Dutch churches in the United States,
were divided into the " Conferentic and Coetus parties." It was mainly
by means of Dr. Livingston that a happy union was effected in 1772,
and the Dutch Church became independent of the Classis in Amsterdam.
In 1784 he was appointed Theological Professor in connection with the
denomination to which he belonged. The duties of minister and professor he performed until 1810, when he was appointed President of
Queen's College, in which position he remainted till the time of his decease in 1825.
But few of the sermons of Dr. Livingston have been preserved,
which is much to be regretted. That which is here given, was preached
before the N. Y. Missionary Society, April 3, 1804; and besides its high
intrinsic value, has a special historic interest, from its connection with
the great missionary movements in this country. It made a profound
impression at the time of its delivery; but afterward, in the printed'brm, it reached Williams College, and fell into the hands of some of the
pious students, among whom were Samuel J. Mills, Gordon Hall, and
Richards. These young men took with them this very sermon in their
visits to the meadow on the bank of the Hoosac river, whitlier they repaired Saturday afternoons for consultation and prayer as to a mission
to the heathen. Here, by the famous hay-stacks, under which they
gathered, they pored over these words of wisdom and fervid eloquence
on a theme, which, in those days, was comparatively new. How much
is to be attributed, therefore, to the influence of this discourse, is known
only to the Great Head of the Church.
A few paragraphs toward the conclusion, of a more local character,
are omitted. It may be proper, also, to add, that we have gathered the
facts just referred to as to this sermon, from the venerable Dr. Ludlow,
Professor in the Theological Seminary, New Brunswick, N. J.




THE ANGEL WITH  THE EVERLASTING  GOSPEL.  425
THE FLIGHT OF THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLAST.
ING GOSPEL.
" And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting Gospe.
to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and
tongue, and people, saying, with a loud voice, Fear God, and give glory to Him; for the
hour of His judgment is come; and worship Him that made heaven, and earth, and tho
sea, and the fountains of waters."-REVELATION, xiv. 6, 7.
The glory of God, the love of Christ, and the salvation of sin.
ners, suggest constraining motives for propagating the Gospel. The
command to " teach all nations," and the promise that the word shall
" not return void," present a warrant and encouragement to vigorous exertions for converting the heathen. Christians have always
recognized the obligation, and professed a submission to this duty;
yet they have criminally neglected the means, or ignobly slumbered
in the work.
In the dark period of ignorance and oppression, when the Church
fled before an implacable enemy, it was impossible to devise liberal
plans, or prosecute any benevolent design for the enlargement of the
Redeemer's kingdom. Her situation precluded every generous effort. But why, in more prosperous times, did believers abate in
their zeal?  Why for the space of three centuries, when placed beyond the reach of persecution, have no strenuous measures been
adopted for extending the knowledge of the Saviour? Men, eminent for their piety and talents, have, in succession, been raised up
in the Church. Many, during this long interval, have defended the
truth, and, by their invaluable writings, recommended the excellence
and power of godliness. Faithful and learned ministers have indefatigably labored; and the Lord hath often " sent a plentiful rain,"
and confirmed " His inheritance when it was weary;" but still an
extensive promulgation of the Gospel has not been seriously attempted. Nothing since the primitive ages of Christianity, deserving the name, has appeared, until the present period. Now, at a
season the most unpromising, when wars, revolutions, and confusion
prevail; now, when infidelity assumes a formidable aspect, increases
its votaries, and arrogantly threatens to crush revealed religion; at
this very time, under all these inauspicious circumstances, see the
Church "enlarging the place of her tent, and stretching forth the
curtains of her habitation I She breaks forth on the right hand and
on the left, to inherit the Gentiles, and make the desolate cities to be
inhabited." All who embrace the doctrines of grace, in every nation,
seem inspired with the same spirit. Vast plans are formed, immense




426              JOHN H. LIVINGSTON.
expenses incurred, and the most distant continents and islands be.
come the objects of attention. Now the deplorable state of those
who " dwell in the land of the shadow of death," and perish for lack
of knowledge, excites compassion. Societies are instituted to facilitate the work; and men, zealous and intrepid in the service of their
Lord, readily offer to visit the utmost ends of the earth, and cheerfully submit to the toils and dangers inseparable from missionary
labors.
Such views and efforts constitute a distinguished epoch in the history of the Church. Events so singular, and in their consequences
6o interesting, create serious inquiries. The assiduous observer of
Divine Providence, losing sight of subordinate agents, looks up,
and asks, What is God doing? Why are the intricate wheels which,
with respect to this important object, have so long seemed stationary, now put in motion? Is there nothing in the word of God, is
there no promise, no prediction, which will illustrate the procedure
of Providence, and inform His people of the rise and progress, the
source and tendency of this astonishing movement?  From  the
prophecies of the Old Testament respecting the kingdom of Christ,
a satisfactory reply can not be obtained. Those prophecies refer
chiefly to the beginning or to the conclusion of the Gospel dispensation. Some were accomplished in the days of the apostles and
their immediate successors. The most of them look forward to a
distant period. Very little concerning the intermediate space, or the
train of events which mark the approach, and are to usher in the
glory of the latter days, can be from them especially collected. Our
blessed Lord, in many of His parables, delineates the gradual and
extensive progress of His kingdom. In the Epistles a formidable
adversary is mentioned, " Whom the Lord shall consume with the
breath of His mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of His
coming."* But our most decisive information is to be derived from
the Apocalypse.  The various vicissitudes which, in succession,
designate the present dispensation of the Church, and the time when
the promises will be fulfilled, are there more pointedly described
than in any other portion of the sacred Scriptures. To a prophecy
in this book I have presumed, my brethren, upon this occasion, to
request your attention; a prophecy in which you will find an answer
to your inquiries, and from which it is my design to deduce a new
motive for strenuous and persevering exertions in your missionary
engagements.
Convinced of the difficulties which unavoidably attend the ex.
planation of prophecies not yet accomplished, and persuaded of a




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING  GOSI EL. 427
prevailing disposition to magnify presenting events; aware of the
propensity which urges to anticipate what is future and sensible of
the peculiar circumspection with which we ought to comment upon
the book of Revelation, I approach my subject with humility and
diffidence; yet not without hope that the meaning of the Holy
Spirit, in the passage selected for our meditation, is rightly apprehended, and that something may be adduced for instruction and
edification. Let us endeavor,
I. To ascertain the object of this prophecy; and then,
II. Investigate the period of its accomplishment.
First. To ascertain the object of this prophecy, and determine
what event is here predicted, let it be observed, that in this chapter
several distinct visions are recorded, which follow each other in uninterrupted succession, referring to events, which, in that very order,
will be accomplished; that the vision now under consideration is the
second, and, in regard to its meaning and precise object, is uninfluenced by what precedes or follows.
John once " beheld and heard an angel flying through the midst
of heaven, saying, with a loud voice, Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabitants of the earth I" The characters and scene now before us are
of a different nature; instead of woe and alarm, they are replete
with glad tidings and consolation. " I saw another angel fly in the
midst of heaven, having the everlasting Gospel to preach unto them
that dwell on the earth." In this text the hieroglyphical and alphabetical language both occur. A few symbols are first introduced,
after which an explanation succeeds in the ordinary style.
The symbols are, heaven and an angel, bearing a precious treasure, "flying in the midst of heaven," and crying with a " loud voice."
Heaven is often, throughout the Scripture, used literally to indicate
the place of glory, the beatific vision, the mansion of the blessed.
In the passage before us it is a symbol, and means the Church under
the New Testament dispensation. The " midst of heaven," then, is
the midst of the Christian Churches. Angel is an official term; it
is frequently applied to those spiritual and celestial beings who are
sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation; but the word expresses not so much the nature as the character and duty of those
who are employed as messengers. It is here a symbol, and represents the ministers of the Gospel, the messengers of the Lord to
tHis people; and means not one particular minister, but a Gospel
ministry in the aggregate. Of this a satisfactory explanation occurs
in the second and third chapters of this book, where the symbol always refers to the ministvry of the Churches. Flying is the figure of




428               JOHN  H. LIVINGSTON.
speed. A (ontinued flying indicates an uninterrupted and unceas
ing progress. The loud voice expresses earnestness, zeal and au.
thority.
From the symbolical terms, we then collect, that John foresaw a
period when a zealous ministry would arise in the midst of the
churches, with a new and extraordinary spirit; a ministry singular
in its views and exertions, and remarkable for its plans and success;
a ministry which would arrest the public attention, and be a prelude to momentous changes in the Church and in the world.
The literal explanation removes every doubt respecting the
meaning of these symbols. What is the treasure the angel bears?
What does he proclaim with so loud a voice?  To whom is his message directed?  Each of these is here determined. The angel has
the everlasting Gospel to preach: this is his treasure. He calls to
the practice of the essential duties of true religion, and announces
the hour of God's judgment: this is the import of his proclamation.
He is commissioned to visit every nation and people on the earth:
to them his message is directed. Some of these articles deserve a
minute discussion; but we must be contented with a few brief observations upon each.
1. The Gospel signifies good tidings, tidings of great joy, of salvation for lost sinners, salvation from great misery, procured by a
great price, a great salvation. To preach this Gospel is officially to
declare the fact, and authoritatively to command and persuade sinners to be reconciled to God. So the celestial angel preached the
Gospel to the Shepherds in the field of Bethlehem, when he pub.
lished the birth of the Saviour. So the apostolic angels preached
the Gospel when they went forth " as embassadors for Christ, and
inculcated repentance and faith. So the ordinary angels of the
churches have continued in every age to preach the Gospel, as far as
they have faithfully professed and taught the doctrines of Jesus and
His apostles.
This Gospel is here called everlasting, not merely because it
was devised in the eternal counsel of peace between the Father and
the Son, and because it is established by an everlasting Covenant,
which renders all the benefits well ordered, sure, and perpetual; but
it is thus denominated with particular emphasis in this prophecy, to
indicate that the Gospel, which should go forth from the midst of
the churches, and be sent to all the nations of the earth, would be
the same Gospel which had always been maintained by the faithful
followers of the Redeemer; the same Gospel which was "' preached
before unto Abraham;" the same which all believers embraced un.




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING  GOSPEL. 429
der the Old Testament; the same which the apostles preached and
the primitive Christians professed; the same to which the sealed of
the Lord bore witness during the persecution of antichrist; the
same for which the churches at the Reformation protested, and
which has since, by many of those churches, been preserved in its
purity. The very same weapons, and no other, which had been
" mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds" hereto
fore, should now be effectually employed. This ascertains that, at
the period intended in the vision, the doctrines of grace would be
faithfully preached; that the missionaries sent out from the midst
of the churches would be, like Barnabas, "good men, full of the
Holy Ghost, and of faith;" that they would not accommodate their
message to the pride of philosophers, to the prejudice of infidels, or
the bigotry of idolaters? but honestly, plainly, and boldly preach
"Christ and Him crucified;" Christ, " the way, the truth, and the
life," by whom alone sinners can come to the Father; that without
flattery or disguise, they would call transgressors to repentance, and
offer a Saviour to the chief of sinners.
2. To what doth the angel call? What is the import of his
proclamation? In three comprehensive sentences a summary of
the whole is exhibited —" Fear God; give glory to Him;" and " worship Him." By the fear of God, the whole of true religion, as it
respects principles and practice, is often expressed; particularly a
veneration for the infinite majesty of Jehovah, and a holy dread of
His judgments. " The Lord is the true God, He is the living God,'
and everlasting King; at His wrath the earth shall tremble. Who
would not fear Thee, 0 King of nations? For to Thee doth it appertain." But the fear particularly inculcated by the Gospel is here
especially intended; not a servile dread, which urges awakened sinners to despair, and extinguishes devotion; but a holy reverence,
blended with such perfect love as casteth out slavish fear. The
spirit of adoption seals the forgiveness of sins-is an earnest of acceptance "in the beloved" —and excites in His people a filial fear.
"There is forgiveness with Thee, that Thou mayest be feared."
"Give glory to Him," is added by the angel, as anotLer comprehensive summary of the Gospel call. In all His Divine attributes
God is infinitely glorious. The heavens declare His glory. The
whole earth is full of His glory. All His works praise Him. He
is glorious in His holiness and fearful in His praises. But in the
face of Jesus Christ the glory of God shines most conspicuously.
In the salvation of guilty, depraved, and helpless transgressors,
through the imputed righteousness of the blessed Immanuel, glory




430              JOHN  H. LIVINGSTON.
redounds to God in the highest. The Gospel displays " the glory of
His majesty;" and wherever it is rendered the wisdom and power
of God unto salvation, it instructs the redeemed to " give glory unto
the Lord."
The angel concludes with the authoritative command, " Worship
Him." Revealed religion restores true worship to the world, directs
to the right object, and opens the only way for sinners to the mercyseat. It is with peculiar propriety the prophesy mentions, that the
worship taught by the Gospel is the worship of the Creator, who
" made heaven and earth, and the sea and the fountains of waters."
It inculcates this great truth, that revealed religion adopts, confirms,
and enjoins the religion of nature; that God, who is related to us as
Creator, has revealed Himself also in the new and adorable relation
of Redeemer; that sinners, therefore, who come to the Saviour,
come to Him who made them; in worshiping their Redeemer they
worship their Creator. "Thy Maker is Thy husband."
This meets the objections of infidelity, and seems to point to
prevailing principles at the time when the event foretold will be accomplished. The everlasting Gospel which the angel proclaims
demonstrates the religion of nature, however perfect in itself, to be
inadequate for the salvation of those who have sinned. It declares
the Creator to be a Redeemer, and in this relation invites sinners to
fear God, to give Hlim glory, and worship Him.
As a motive for preaching the Gospel, and an argument for its
reception, the angel announces that "the hour of God's Judgment
is come." The term judgment, in the Apocalypse, usually respects
the decision of the controversy which has long subsisted between
the world and Jesus Christ; but it is evident a particular reference
is here made to the judgment to be inflicted upon the nations chargeable with slaying the witnesses. " The nations were angry, and thy
wrath is come, and the time of the dead that they should be judged;"
the time when the dead saints shall be remembered, and the blood
of the martyrs, by terrible judgments, be avenged. This is considered as the commencement of that awful decision, the beginning of
that series of judgment, which will terminate the controversy between
the Redeemer and His adversaries. To this, in the first instance;
the angel has respect. He calls with " a loud voice —The hour of
His judgment is come." Let the nations tremble; let the world
adore; especially let the Churches hear! The beginning of t;his
judgment, the very hour of its commencement, is the signal for the
angel's flight, and for extending the Redeemer's kingdom.
3. To whom is the Gospel to be sent? To whom is the angel




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING  GOSPEL. 431
commissioned to carry his treasure?  " Unto them that dwell on the
earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people."
The term earth, when uttered figuratively in this book, is a symbol
for the Roman Empire, including the whole extent of the papal
hierarchy. Commentators, who view it here as a symbol, understand
the prophecy as only foretelling the promulgation of the Gospel in
its purity, throughout the bounds of that empire, as it is now divided
into different nations, tongues and people. But the term has a
literal meaning, and it occurs here in connection with the alphabetical language; it must, therefore, be understood in its literal sense,
indicating the whole globe which we inhabit, with all the nations
and people of the world. To these, however, distant and dispersed,
diversified in their situation, and differing in their manners and lan.
guages; to all these the angel bends his course; to all these he is
commissioned to preach the everlasting Gospel.
You have the meaning of the prophecy. What was suggested
by the hieroglyphic, is illustrated and confirmed by the alphabetical
language.
John saw in vision, that after a lapse of time, a singular movement would commence, not in a solitary corner, but in the very
midst of the Churches. That the Gospel, in its purity, would be
sent to the most distant lands, and success crown the benevolent
work. The ordinary exercise of the ministry, or the feeble attempts
which, at different times, might be made to propagate the Gospel,
were not the object of this vision. It was something beyond the
common standard, which the apostle beheld with admiration and
rapture.. It was such preaching and such propagation of the Gospel
as John never before contemplated. There was a magnitude in the
plan, a concurrence of sentiment, a speed in the execution, a zeal in
the efforts, and a prosperity in the enterprise, which distinguished
this from all former periods.
The event here described comprehends a series of causes and effects, a succession of means and ends, not to be completed in a day,
or finished by a single exertion. It is represented as a growing and
permanent work. It commences from small beginnings in the midst
of the Churches, but it proceeds, and will increase in going.
There are no limits to the progress of the angel. From the time he
begins to fly and preach, he will continue to fly and preach until he
has brought the everlasting Gospel to all nations, and tongues, and
kindred and people in the earth. Hail, happy period! Hail, cheering prospect! When will that blessed hour arrive? When will.he angel commence his flight? This leads us,




8132             JOHN H. LIVINGSTON.
Seccndly. To investigate the time when this prophecy will begin
to be accomplished.
The whole structure of the vision, the grandeur of the scene, and
the solemn exposition of the symbols, recommended this illustrious
prophecy to the peculiar notice of the Churches, and yet it seems to
have been generally neglected or misrepresented by commentators
It has either been restricted to what happened at the Reformation,
or thrown into the great mass of events which are to take place after
the Millennium has fully commenced. Whereas, upon examination,
it will be found, both from the order of the vision and its express
object that it comprehends something vastly beyond what was
-'ealized at the Reformation. And, so far from actually belonging
so the millennial period, it is only the appointed means for introducing
that state; whatever may be its progress or consummation, it must,
in the nature of things, begin its operation some considerable time
before the Millennium can commence. [An argument is here introduced to sustain this opinion; and it is further confirmed by notes in
an Appendix to the printed discourse.]
With this conclusion, if, now, we compare existing facts; if we
view the missionary spirit which has suddenly pervaded the
Churches, and estimate the efforts lately made, and still making, for
the sending the Gospel to those who know not the precious name of
Jesus, and are perishing in their sins; do we not discover a striking
resemblance of what the vision describes? May we not exclaim1
Behold the angel i His flight is begun!
" The hour of God's judgment," we have already seen, is mentioned as the very hour when the angel begins to fly. This is a
part of his proclamation. Upon this his commission to go forth is
expressly sanctioned. To the three other great events which are tc
happen, the extensive preaching of the Gospel must, in the naturc
of things, be antecedent, as means to effect those ends; but with the
first mentioned iA is to be coetaneous. When that begins, this will
also commence. What we are to understand by this judgment of
God has been explained, and we are assured that, sooner or later —
but we recoil at the exposition, and proceed with reluctance upon.
subject which excites such sympathy, such sensibility, so much pain
Yet faithfulness renders it incumbent to say-we are assured that
sooner or later, it will certainly be inflicted upon the nations, ii
their national capacity, who are chargeable with the murder of the
saints. The justice and dignity of the moral government; th,
veracity of God in fulfilling what He has so repeatedly declared ii
His word; a vindication of the insulted honor of the Saviour anm




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING  GOSPEL. 433
His love to His people and cause, all conspire to render His dispensation inevitable. The debt must be paid. The voice of blood
will be heard. Believers who reside in those nations, and dread the
scene, might as well pray that the Lord would not be "revealed in
flaming fire to take vengeance upon them that know not God, and
obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ;" or, that the elements
might be preserved from melting with fervent heat, and the world
exempted from final conflagration, as to pray that the precious blood
of the saints should not be avenged.
The righteous may protect the wicked, and in the ordinary procedure of Providence, avert impending destruction for a time; but
although Noah, Daniel, and Job were there, when this hour of retribution arrives, they could procure no longer forbearance. Conformably to this, His people are not exhorted to pray against the approaching calamity, but to submit in faith and hope; and when the
awful season shall arrive, to fly to their chambers and hide themselves. They shall be safely protected. The Lord knoweth how to
deliver His children; and will, as when Jerusalem was destroyed,
provide some Pella for them. " When He maketh inquisition for
blood, He remembereth them; He forgetteth not the cry of the
bumble."
But when will God perform this strange work? Ah, perhaps it
is already begun! What are the singular, what the desolating scenes
which have opened, and are still enlarging in prospect?  Why are
convulsed nations rising in a new and terrific form to exterminate
each other? Are these the beginnings of sorrows? Are these the
first movements for avenging the Saviour's cause?  Is God now
coming out of His place to judge the earth, to judge that portion
of the world which assisted the beast in slaying the witnesses?
Must the blood, so long covered and forgotten by men, now come in
remembrance and be disclosed? Must this generation-we forbear.
Judge ye. But be assured, that if this work be begun, or whenever
it doth begin, at that very hour the angel will begin to fly. When
Zion sings of judgment, she always sings of mercy.
Let this suffice. You have attended to the prophecy, and esti.
mated the period of its accomplishment. You have compared existing facts with the prediction, and drawn a conclusion. Do you
now call, "Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the
night?" The watchman saith, " The morning cometh, and also the
night." Clouds and darkness still remain, and the gloom may even
thicken at its close; but the rising dawn will soon dispel the shades,
28




434              JOHN  H. LIVINGSTON.
and shine " more and more unto the perfect day."  " The morning
cometh 1"
From the numerous reflections suggested by this subject, the
limits of our discourse permit us to select only a few.
1. How mysterious are the ways of God I " His way is in the
sea, His path in the great waters, and His footsteps are not known."
The time which elapsed before the birth of the Messiah; the narrow
boundaries within which the Church was circumscribed during the
dispensation of the Old Testament; the sufferings which overwhelmed
her immediately after the primitive ages of Christianity; and the
small progress of truth and righteousness for so many centuries to
the present day, are all, to us, mysterious and inexplheable. What
difficulties hold us in suspense!  How many inquiries arise I If the
everlasting Gospel is to be preached to the whole world, why are the
nations permitted to remain so long in ignorance and wickedness? If
the heathen be given to the Lord Jesus, why doth He delay to take
possession of them? Why a discrimination? Why-" But O man,
who art thou that repliest against God? Shall the thing formed say
to Him that formed it, Why hast Thou made me thus?" Can any
"say unto Him, What dost Thou?"  Say rather, " 0 the depth of
the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God; how un.
searchable are His judgments, and His ways past finding out! Even
so, Father, for so it seemed good in Thy sight!"
Delays have tried the faith and patience of the saints; and scoffers,
seizing the occasion, have dared to demand, "Where is the promise
of His coming?" But darkness will be suceeeded by light, perplexing difficulties all be solved, and apparent confusion terminate in
perfect order. Zion shall before long cease to complain that " her
Lord bath forgotten her;" and as for the wicked, they may suppress
their blasphemies. " The Lord is not slack concerning His promise.
Behold, the day cometh," too soon for them, " the day cometh that
shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble."  God will vindicate His ways, and display
the harmony which has forever subsisted between His providence
and promises. The period is approaching that will abundantly compensate for the severest trials and the longest delays; a period when
the Redeemer's kingdom on earth will perfectly correspond to the
sublimest descriptions of its extent and glory. " The Lord reigneth,
let the earth rejoice. He will make crooked things straight, and
darkness light. As for God, His way is perfect."
2. The magnitude of this event next arrests our attention. Vast
in ix nature and consequences, it involves renovations in the moral




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING  GOSPEL. 435
world more extensive and stupendous than any hitherto experienced; it implicates radical changes in the manners and customs of
mankind; and even comprehends revolutions in the principles and
administration of civil government, which surpass the power of anticipation. But vast and difficult as these may appear, there is nothing in their rise, their progress, or their consummation that implies
a contradiction. In the physical order of things the event is possible; agreeable to the moral system it can be effected; and it certainly is most desirable and devoutly to be wished. When all nations receive the Gospel, and become real Christians; when men of
every rank, "from the least to the greatest, shall know the Lord,"
and devote themselves to the service of their Redeemer, then all
will be happy. Individuals will be happy, society will be happy,
and peace, joy, and holiness prevail throughout the whole earth,
This is the manifestation for which the world is waiting. The creation, groaning under the complicated miseries introduced by sin,
will then obtain the deliverance for which it has been so long in
travail.
Alarmed at the prospect, infidels raise formidable objections,
and, with infernal malignity, ridicule the hope of believers.  "All
things," say they, "all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation; and all things will forever so remain. Nothing can produce the mighty change you Christians contemplate.
You cherish fictions, chimeras, and dreams. You draw Elysian
scenes which will never be realized. What I convince the ferocious
followers of Mohammed that their prophet was an impostor, their Al.
coran a rhapsody I Persuade the Chinese to abandon their ancient
habits! Induce the myriads in India to demolish their pagodas, and
erect temples to Jesus Christ I Curb the roving Tartars! Elevate
the groveling Africans I Or tame the savages of America I How
can these things be?" Not by human might or power, we reply. We
know more than infidels can inform us of the stupendous heights
and horrid abysses over which the promise has to pass; but none of
these things move us. Were it to be accomplished by man; were
the subtle counsels of the wise or the nerved arm of the hero required, the afflicting consequences, in their fullest latitude, would
readily be admitted. But it is the work of God. This answers all
questions-this silences every cavil. Is any thing too hard for Him
" that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereo!
are as grasshoppers?" Are not all things possible with Him who
" doth according to His will in the army of heaven and among the
inhabitants of the earth, and none can stay His hand?" Has the




436              JOHN H. LIVINGSTON.
glorified Mediator all power given to Him in heaven and in earth tc
accomplish this very event, and can the faith of His people be chimerical? Are their hopes to be ridiculed? Great as it may be, it is
not too great for Him to perform. "Every valley shall be exalted;
and every mountain and hill shall be made low; and the crooked
shall be made strait; and the rough places plain; and the glory of
the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it."
3. The certainty of the accomplishment affords a consoling reflection. This is implied in what has already been said; but it deserves a more distinct consideration. Christians are not chargeable
with enthusiasm when they believe the promises of God will be fulfilled. They follow no cunningly devised fable when they "make
known the power and coming of the Lord Jesus Christ." They
"speak the words of truth and soberness," when they say, the everlasting Gospel will be successfully preached "to all them that dwell
on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and
people." Always ready to "give a reason of the hope that is in
them," in regard to their own salvation, they are equally prepared
to vindicate their expectation respecting the enlargement of their
Redeemer's kingdom in the world.
The truth of God is pledged to accomplish His word. Nothing,an possibly intervene to change His plan. Nothing can arise to
frustrate His purpose. The Lord has faithfully executed all He
promised, in the proper season, from the beginning of the world;
and will He not perfect what yet remaineth?  After preserving His
Church under the wasting persecutions of imperial Rome, and the
execrable fury of Rome papal; after hiding her in the wilderness,
and nourishing her so long in her adversity; will He not bring her
forth to public view in the beauties of holiness, "fair as the moon,
clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners? As I live,
saith the Lord, thou shalt surely clothe thee with them all as with
an ornament, and bind them on thee as a bride doth: I will contend
with them that contendeth with thee, and I will save thy children:
all flesh shall know that I the Lord am thy Saviour and thy Redeemer, the mighty one of Jacob."
It is right and proper that Jesus Christ should reign over the
whole world, and that all nations should serve Him. Is He not
worthy, " the Scepter of whose kingdom is a Scepter of righteousness, to be the King of Kings and Lord of Lords?" Is He constituted the heir of the world, and shall He not in due season possess
His inheritance?  Hath He shed His precious blood upon this




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING GOSPEL. 437
earth, and is it not reasonable and fit that the theater of His deep
humiliation should become also the theater of His exalted authority,
power and grace? Has the heel of the Saviour been bruised to the
utmost extent of the sentence, and will not the head of the serpent
be broken in the fullest import of the promise? Are the children
of God instructed to plead that His kingdom may come; and will
not their heavenly Father answer the incessant prayers, which for
many ages have addressed His throne? "Shall not God avenge
His own elect which cry day and night unto Him, though He bear
long with them? I tell you that He will avenge them speedily."
The kingdom and dominion, and the greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, shall be given to the people of the saints of
the Most High, whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and all
dominions shall serve and obey Him. The kingdom shall not be
left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all the
kingdoms, and it shall stand forever. Remove the diadem and take
off the crown. "I will overturn, overturn, overturn it, and it shall
be no more until He come whose right it is; and I will give, it to
Him."
Before the Messiah came, His people were wearied with waiting.
Many conjectures and errors prevailed among the Jews in their cal.
culations and expectations. But seasons, and years, and ages re.
volved; and changes and revolutions in the nations and kingdomr.s
of the earth succeeded; until the fullness of time arrived, and then
the Saviour was born. So among Christains there may be misapprehensions concerning the nature and extent of the blessings
promised to the Church; erroneous conclusions may be formed respecting the time when the happy period we contemplate will comnence; but, "in the end, the visions shall speak." Seasons and
years, and ages will revolve; and changes and revolutions in the
nations and kingdoms of the earth succeed until the day " dawns,
and the day-star arises," and then " the dominion and glory, and
kingdom, shall be given to Him, that all people, nations and languages shall serve Him." Nothing on the part of sinners prevented His coming in the flesh; and all the ignorance of mankind, the
prejudice of unbelief, the malice of infidelity, and the combined
powers of earth and hell, will not delay His coming, with His Gospel and Spirit, agreeably to His promise. "God is not a man, that
He should lie, neither the son of man, that He should repent: Hath
He said, and shall He not do it? Or hath He spoken, and shall Ho
not make it good? I the Lord will hasten it in His time."
Come, "let us walk about Zion, and go round about her," let us




438              JOHN H. LIVINGSTON.
" tell the towers thereof and mark well her bulwarks." The Church,
from the beginning, had been greatly circumscribed, and was still a
small flock when our Lord was upon earth. It has continued
comparatively small for many centuries, and few have even hitherto
entered in at the straight gate, contrasted with the multitude who
choose the broad way " that leadeth to destruction."  But " glorious
things are spoken of the city of God." The interests of religion shall
not always be thus depressed. The Church of Christ will emerge
from obscurity, and the number of His followers not be small.
Nothing is more certain than that God has promised a great enlargement of the kingdom of the Redeemer in this world, with abundant
communications of His Spirit and presence. In the most unequivocal language it is foretold, that all people and nations throughout the
whole earth shall be instructed in the true religion, and brought into
the Church of God. " All dominions shall serve and obey Him. All
nations shall serve Him. All nations shall call Him blessed. In
Him shall all the nations of the earth be blessed. He will destroy
the covering cast over all people, and the vail that is spread over all
nations. All flesh shall see the salvation of the Lord. Unto Him
shall all flesh come. The earth shall be full of the knowledge of
the Lord, as the waters cover the seas." In this the promises of the
Old as well as of the Newv Testament completely harmonize. They
all establish the desirable fact, that a period will most assuredly arrive, when there shall not be one nation in the world which shall
not embrace the Christian religion.  "The nation and kingdom
which shall not serve Thee shall perish, yea, these nations shall be
utterly wasted."
A time will therefore come when the knowledge of the truth shall
universally prevail, and holiness shall characterize the world; a time
when the Church shall be known and acknowledged to be but one,
a dignified and excellent society, connected in the most perfect order, and shining in the light of the Sun of Righteousness; a time
when the world shall be delivered from the evils and calamities under which it has so long groaned, and the blessings of God the Redeemer be upon all the families of the earth: " Then the wilderness
and the solitary place shall be glad, and the desert shall rejoice and
blossom as the rose." Then " let the wilderness and the cities lift up
their voices; let the villages, the inhabitants of the rock sing; ie;
them shout from the top of the mountains, let them give glory unto
the Lord, and declare His praise in the islands."
These promises have not yet been fulfilled. There has never
been any propagation of true religion that corresponds to the uni.




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING G DSPEL 439
versality indicated in the promises. Where the word and ordinances have been hitherto known and enjoyed, their blessed influence upon the hearts and conduct of men has not been thus
powerfully experienced. And countless millions throughout the
earth, have never heard that there is a Saviour.
To the fulfillment of these promises, it is necessary that the Gospel be sent to every nation in the world. The preached word is the
established mean for converting sinners, and without the mean the
end will not be obtained. "The preaching of the cross" is unto
them which are saved the power of God. It hath pleased Him, by
the "foolishness of preaching, to save them that believe." If, therefore, the blessings promised, are to be conferred, there will also come
a time when God will send His everlasting Gospel to every people,
tongue and kindred in the earth. This time, we believe, is arrived. The present exertions in the churches, we are persuaded,
are the first stirrings, the gradual beginnings for accomplishing that
great end.
Eventful period I A time replete with occurrences of the highest importance to the world I Long lives for many generations have
passed in uniform succession, and men have grown old without witnessing any remarkable deviation from the ordinary course of Providence. But now a new era is commencing. The close of theJast,
and the opening of the present century, exhibit strange and astonishing things. Principles and achievements, revolutions and designs, events uncommon and portentous, in rapid succession, arrest
our attention. Each year, each day is pregnant with something
great, and all human calculations are set at defiance. The infidel,
with his impious philosophy, stands aghast, and destitute of resources, with trembling forebodings, wonders how and where the
perplexed scene will end; while the Christian, instructed by the
word and Spirit of his Saviour, calmly views the turning of the
dreadful wheels, and knows which way they proceed. Strengthened by Divine grace he stands undaunted in the mighty commotion, and looks up rejoicing that his prayers are heard, and that his
" redemption draweth nigh."
4. How influential the motive suggested by this prediction to engage in strenuous exertions to propagate the Gospel! How forcible
the argument to persevere in the benevolent work! When " Daniel
understood by books the number of years, whereof the word of the
Lord came to Jeremiah the prophet," his attention was fixed; his
affections were raised; and it operated as a motive to intercede for
the accomplishment of the prophecy; agreeably to the maxim, that




440              JOHN H. LIVINGSTON
will be inquired of by the house of Israel to do it for them The
pious captives anxiously waiting for their restoration, were no doubt
instructed by Daniel, and joined with him in supplicating the throne
of grace. The word passed rapidly among the scattered families,
and they gladly prepared for the impending change. It is supposed
that Daniel, who, from his former station at the king's court, might
easily obtain access to Cyrus, communicated to that prince, with
suitable and successful arguments, the part assigned in prophecy for
him to fulfill. In this way the prophet was instrumental in Divine
Providence in bringing forward the completion of the promise. He
united exertions with his prayers. He felt the influence of the motive; and the grace which was bestowed upon him was not in vain.
In like manner let Christians now be wise, and receive instruction. " Ye, brethren, are not in darkness that that day should overtake you as a thief. Ye are all the children of light, and the children
of the day; we are not of the night nor of darkness, therefore let us
not sleep as do others, but let us watch and be sober." It is time for
the wise virgins who have slumbered to arise and trim their lamps.
The cry is made, "Behold, the Bridegroom  cometh!" He cometh
to send His Gospel abroad, and bless the world with His truth and
righteousness.
It is an honor to be employed in the service of the Redeemer.
"I had rather be a door-keeper in the house of my God, than to
dwell in the tents of wickedness." It is a privilege to be laborers
together with God. It is a pleasant work, to go up to the mountain
and bring wood and build the house, when we are convinced the
time is come, and the Lord saith, "He will take pleasure in it, and
will be glorified."
Every motive which stimulates to vigorous efforts in propagating the Gospel, derives additional force and energy from this word
of prophecy. Is the glory of God an impressive argument? Attend to the prediction before us, and be encouraged to hope, that
God, who hath glorified His holy name, will soon glorify it again.
He will make Himself known throughout the whole earth, not only
in His Divine perfections, as the one only true God, but in the adorable manner of His existence, as Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and
will be worshiped every where in the blessed relation of Redeemer
as well as Creator. Doth the love of Christ constrain? Have y Du
crowned Him with your homage; and often grieved at the contempt
cast upon His precious name and cause?  See what is doing in the
churches! To Him  every knee will bow; "the most Mighty is
girding His sword upon His thigh; the arm of the Lord will awake




THE ANGEL WITH THE EVERLASTING GOSPEL. 441
as in the ancient days, in the generations of old; and the people
shall fall under Him.  His name shall endure forever." Are you
affected with the deplorable condition of the greatest part of the
world, which lieth in ignorance and wickedness? Behold the everlasting Gospel is going forth to every tongue, and kindred, and
nation, and shall universally prevail. Yet a little while, and the
people that walk in darkness will see a great light, and upon them
that dwell in the land of the shadow of death will the light shine.
All the precepts which are our warrant to engage in this work; all
the promises which are our encouragement to persevere with firmness, receive new weight and influence. While we are musing upon
the prediction before us, our hearts are hot within us; the fire
burns; zeal kindles to a flame; we glow with ardor to perform our
part, and assist the flight of the preaching angel. We live to see
the dawn; we long to see the day. We witness at least the beginnings of what many prophets and righteous men have desired to
see, and have not seen them. For those of us who are advanced in
years, let this suffice. We now can depart in peace  We shall
hear of the accomplishment, and join with those who rejoice in
heaven, over sinners who are converted to Christ I




DISCOURSE SEVENTIETH.
WILLIAM WHITE, D.D.
BriROP WHITE was born in Philadelphia, Pa., April 4th, 1748, and
educated in his native city. After graduating from his collegiate course
and studying theology, he visited England, and received deacon's orders
from Dr. Terrick, then bishop of London, and diocesan of all the Episcopal churches in America. On his return he was settled as assistant
minister of Christ Church and St. Peter's, of Philadelphia, and in a few
years was chosen rector of these churches. During the Revolutionary
struggle he was the friend of Washington, and was elected chaplain to
Congress, at Yorktown, 1777. He presided at the Convention for the
union of the different Episcopal churches in this country, and as bishop
elect of Pennsylvania, proceeded to England for bishop's orders, and
was consecrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury; after which he re.
turned and commenced the duties of his Episcopate in 1787. The place
of his residence was Philadelphia; where he ceased from his labors on
the 17th of July, 1836, expiring without a groan, in his dwelling-house
on Walnut-street, where he had resided for more than fifty years.
Bishop White was a man of unquestioned piety, and his whole life
was marked by complete and beautiful consistency. He was eminent
as the minister of religion in the councils which gave liberty to his country, and the center of affection to a large community. For more than
forty years he was the senior bishop of the Episcopal Communion, where
he exerted a wide influence, mild and paternal. He was a man of con.
siderable erudition as a scholar, and as a preacher, was esteemed for hi,
judicious and solid instructions. He wrote and spoke with earnestness
and impressiveness, and often invested his thoughts with great beaut)
and eloquence. A collection of his sermons has been published; and the
excellent memoir by Dr. Bird Wilson, is a fitting tribute to his worth.
The sermr n here given is not found in his printed works. It is kindl]
furnished by his son, Thomas H. White, Esq., of Philadelphia; and owe:
its appearance in this fbrm to the suggestions of several distinguishes
Episcopal clergymen, who, from having heard it delivered, or other
wise, entertained a high estimate of its value, and desired to see it b
print. The subject is treated with much discrimination and ability, re
lieving it from difficulties, and rendering it profitable fbr instruction.




THE SIN OF DAVID IN THE CASE OF URI.AH. 443
THE SIN OF DAVID IN THE CASE OF URIAIH
" And the Lord sent Nathan unto David." —2 SAMUEL, XiL 1.
The chapter of which these words are the beginning, has been
read as the first lesson of the service of this morning. It has reference
to a crime, which, considered in connection with the character
stained by it, has been a subject of mockery with the profane, and
of difficulty with many of the devout. There being an annual return of it in the series of our lessons for the Sundays, occasion shall
be now taken to bring the recorded transaction into view; and the
sentiments to be offered will be arranged under these four heads:
the sin of David-the reproof of the prophet-the consequent repentance —and the forgiveness.
1st. Of the sin of David. He accidentally beheld a beautiful
woman, toward whom he gave a loose to his affections, before he
discovered that she was the wife of another. Hearing of this impediment to the gratification of his unlawful passion, he became
guilty of an action inconsistent with his profession of religion, and
with the clearest dictates of the sense of honor. Perhaps, as power
is intoxicating, he conceived of himself as not subjected to the ordinary rules of society. But to bring disgrace on his reign, or danger to his person, was not within his contemplation. To guard
against these, he invented a piece of base cunning, in order to deceive a husband, already injured beyond the possibility of reparation.
The husband, Uriah, doubtless, either from suspicion, or prompted
by some intimation of the wrong done to him, avoided the snare.
Now, the king found it necessary to rid himself of a man whom he
was not able to impose on. For this purpose he sent an order to his
general, to put Uriah " in the hottest of the battle." In this, he
probably found a palliative for his conscience; for, what was it,
but to give to a brave soldier a post of honor? Accordingly, the
narrative tells us, that Joab " appointed him a place, where he knew
the valiant men were." No doubt the victim considered himself as
honored by the appointment, while it gave occasion to the king to
solace himself with the thought, that it was the enemy and not he,
who put an end to the life of his subject. But religion and virtue
abhor the distinction, as appears in the succeeding part of the story.
In the statement of the sin of David, it has been intended, not
so much to dwell on the atrocity of it-for which, however, no cen3ure can be too severe-as to remark from it, how imperceptibly
cne sin prepares the way for another. At first, that of David was




444                 WILLIAM  WHITE.
licentious love. Next, he was carried to adultery; with which Le
may at first have thought it unconnected. This drove him to a secret expedient, unworthy of an ingenuous mind, and very different
from other incidents in his life. At last he was precipitated to the
highest crime against society-that of murder: of such a murder as
is aggravated by the character of the sufferer, by the occasion of his
fall, by the deliberation with which it was pursued, and by the obduracy with which the tidings of it were received.
The second particular, is the reproof of the prophet; in which,
in connection with the respect due to the station of the offender,
there is the intrepidity of the man of God.
In order to extort from David the sentence of his own condemnation, Nathan wrapped up the purpose of his mission in a parable, telling the king " there were two men in the same city, the one rich and
the other poor." Here we may remark, that the prophet considered
the case of a subject as a sufficient illustration of the duty of a prince,
station and power, in his estimation, being no dispensation from the
obligations of justice. This is a truth which it would have been unnecessary to mention, were it not that in all times and places, there
is a propensity in human nature which, unless either controlled by
the potent energy of religion, or kept down by fear, makes so corrupt
a use of any advantages of birth or of wealth even in a very moderate measure to be boasted of. In the eyes of the dissolute possessors
of them they appear in the light of a legitimate means of oppression
and of the gratification of passion. This is the hinge on which there
turns a great proportion of the cases of the seduction of the female
children of the poor, whose condition, in the estimation of their more
elevated betrayers, divests them of the claims alike of justice and
of compassion.
To go on with the parable-" The rich man had exceeding many
flocks and herds, but the poor man had one only ewe-lamb, which
grew up with him and his children, and lay with him in his bosom,
and was unto him as a daughter." The latter part of the sentence is
beautifully expressive of the domestic condition of Uriah. Analagous
to the rich man, with his exceeding many flocks and herds, there
was the king, who had various sources of satisfaction. Besides the
extent of his possessions, there was the homage of his attendants, the
obedience of all his subjects, the successes of his arms, and the respect
of the neighboring nations. But as for Uriah, the felicity of private
life was his all. From this he had torn himself to discharge his duty
to his prince; and to this he hoped to return after the toils and the
hazards of war. But he hoped for it in vain. The rapacious hand




THE SIN OF DAVID IN THE CASE OF URIAH. 445
of the rich man had seized on the poor man's ewe-lamb, and, in the
end, had taken the life of the injured owner. Here the fable falls
short of the guilt at which it was aimed. For although the prophet
designed to bring the moral home to the bosom of the king, he
avoided the making of the narrative too explicit, lest it should fall
short of the effect for which it was contrived. But where it deviates
from an exact parallel, it is in such circumstances as make the sentence of the offender apply with more force to himself than to the fictitious object of his resentment.
No sooner did the King of Israel hear of the flagrant crime in the
parable, than, little imagining it to be intended for himself, he denounced merited punishment of the criminal. For " David's anger
was greatly kindled against the man; and he said unto Nathan, As
the Lord liveth, and as thy soul liveth, the man that hath done this
thing shall surely die; and he shall restore the lamb fourfold, because
he hath done this thing, and because he had no pity." Could we
forget the design of the parable, we must commend the righteous indignation of the ruler of a people, and we must venerate his just
judgment in the vindication of the cause of the oppressed, and for
the humbling of the petty tyrant of a neighborhood. But, alas! himself was the offender; and that in a greater degree than in the case
against which his sentence was directed. Here comes in the moral
of the fable. Here the prophet shows that his address, although
courtly, was not that of a person backward to declare the truth without disguise. In short, here the astonished king is overpowed by
the unexpected thunder of a personal application. "And Nathan
said unto David, Thou art the man." How comprehensive the accusationI as if it had been said-Thou art the man who hast broken
down the inclosures of private right, which it should have been the
glory of thy character to have defended. Thou art the man who,
not content with the abundance which a gracious Providence has
showered down on him, hath seized on the little all of his unprotected
neighbor. And thou hast filled up the measure of thy guilt in the
murder of a virtuous subject, whose loyalty gave thee an opportunity
of wounding his honor, and whose valor made it afterward easy to
thee to take away his life.
There is something especially interesting in the notice taken by
the prophet of the expedient adopted for the insuring of the death
of Uriah. It has been already remarked that the king had probably
discharged the weight of the guilt from his conscience, on the plea
of the hosti'e sword by which the deed had been accomplished. But
his censor plainly declares —" Thou hast slain him by the sword of




446                 WILLIAM  WHITE.
the children of Ammon;" as if it had been said-Thou mayest speak
peace to thyself by reflecting that it was the sword of a public enemy which slew Uriah. But that sword was the instrument of thy
lawless lust; and far from being an excuse, it is an aggravation of
the crime, that he was surrendered to a hostile army against which
he was guarding thy throne and person.
The prophet, after these close appeals to the conscience of the
criminal, goes on to particularize the mercies of Providence toward
him. He reminds him of his having been raised from a private station to the throne-of the abundance of his riches-of his deliverance
from the rage of his jealous predecessor-of his complete sovereignty
over Israel and Judah-and of evidence of this sovereignty in the
circumstances that even his master's wives were under his protection,
and in his power; for it is to this that the prophet alludes, and not
to marriage with them, which never happened-the address concluding with the following affectionate addition-" And if this had been
too little for thee, I would moreover have done for thee such and
such things." Well might David perceive the immensity of his
crime, and well might horror take such possession of him that at first
he could only find utterance for the exclamation-'" I have sinned
against the Lord," which is the third particular.
Short indeed is the confession here on record, even as it stands
in the history; however, there are the traces of an ingenuous mind.
not taking refuge either in denial or in extenuation. But, to supply
the omission of history, in the reasonable principle of "comparing
spiritual things with spiritual," we must direct our attention to the
penitential sorrow of David, as vented in the Book of Psalms. Is
it possible that there should have followed such agony of grief, and
that it should not have discharged itself during the intercourse with
Nathan? The contrary is a reasonable construction, when there
are taken into one view the different records from the same source
of inspiration, which makes the Book of Psalms interpretative of
the narrative in the second Book of Samuel.
It is thus that the royal penitent humbles himself in the former
of these books: "I acknowledge my sin unto Thee, and mine iniquity have I not hid;" and in another place, " I am weary of groan
ing; every night wash I my bed, and water my couch with my
tears." How deep must have been the anguish which could dictate
penitential language so expressive of abhorrence of the crime I
Again, he exclaims, " Have mercy on me, 0 Lord, after Thy great
goodness, according to the multitude of Thy mercies, do away mine
offenses;" and, "Make me to hear of joy and gladness, that the




THE SIN OF DAVID  IN THE CASE OF URIAE.  447
bones which Thou hast broken may rejoice." What a union of fervor with humility! and how expressive of a mind, conscious indeed
of the commission of sin, but possessed of a hearty detestation of it.
Again, we read, " Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness, and
cleanse me from my sin;" and again, " Create in me a clean heart,
O God, and renew a right spirit within me." Surely the mind which
could dictate such strains must have retained a high sense of the
purity of the divine law. Farther, " Cast me not away from Thy
presence, nor take Thy Holy Spirit from me." Here it would seem
that the horrors of a guilty conscience had almost driven the sufferer to despair.
These devotional strains of David are recited as doing justice to
his character, not as cleansing it from the stain. Here it may be
proper to correct a mistake, which has arisen from the misconstruction of his being called in Scripture " a man after God's own heart."
It has been considered as holding him up in the light of a person
eminently commendable for holy conduct. But no; it is intended,
not of his private, but of his public character; and of this prineipally in relation to his uninterrupted perseverance in the worship of
the one true God. It is well known that idolatrv was a sin to which
the Israelitish nation, in imitation of their neighbors, were excessively addicted. Accordingly, their institutions were especially intended to guard them against it, as may be perceived in every department of the Levitical law. For the same reason, the praises and
the censures passed on their several monarchs had principally a regard to this feature of their divinely-instituted policy.
The distinction may be illustrated thus: It sometimes happens
in a human government that, in the administration of its powers,
there is expected to be kept in view some prominent object, connected perhaps with local interests, or perhaps with a certain cast of
national character, associated in idea with former events, and with
reverence of the wisdom of former times. In estimating the merits
of the chief ruler of such a country, we should contemplate him
with some reference to the peculiarities of his station, not to the excusing of him from the law of moral right, suited to all persons, and
places, and times; but to the malking of favorable allowances on the
score of his sacred regard to the principles of the constitution. In
the theocracy administered by David, the highest duty lying on him
was the sustaining of the prerogative of the Great King under
whose delegated authority he reigned. In either of the cases stated,
our commendations of the ruler in his public acts are not to be tested
exclmsively by the rule of moral right, and without regard to the




448                  WILLIAM  WHITE.
claims of official character. It was on a different ground that he
stood accountable at the bar of God.
As to the personal character of David, some of his actions show
him possessed of the most generous affections, almost beyond example. There are others which, although very blamable, ought not to
be judged of according to the more civilized standard and the more
humane maxims of later times. Even the inspiration of prophecy
ought not to be admitted in proof of a character presented as a
model. Prophets are spoken of as to be "cut off for their iniquity;"
and the case of Balaam dying in his sin is on record to the same
effect. Much easier, then, may we conceive of a very defective
character consistent with general rectitude and favored with the gift
in question.
To speak impartially of David, his character is of a mixed kind;
and especially thile actions which have been considered are in opposition to every sentiment of integrity. Yet, in what has been said,
it appears that, however great his sin, his repentance was most exemplary; and therefore his case can never be an encouragement tc
the obdurate offender, nor warrant his expectation of a similar for
giveness. This leads to the fourth particular.
"The Lord," says Nathan, "hath put away thy sin."  It has
been already remarked, on the ground of the penitential Psalms to
which the transaction gave occasion, that an intervening expression
of deep repentance is to be presumed. Further, it ought not to be
overlooked that the pardon is announced in the name of an omniscient Being, who discerns the first pangs of a spirit truly penitent.
But there may seem to remain a difficulty on the face of the passage.
The difficulty is this: When Nathan was reproaching David with his
sin, he denounced against him the threat, " Now, therefore, the sword
shall never depart from thy house;" and although there was afterward pronounced forgiveness, with the exception of the penalty of
the loss of an infant child, yet, even during the life of David, the
threat began to be executed after so signal a manner, in the incest
of one of his sons, in the rebellion of another, and in the untimely
end of both, that it is impossible to overlook the correspondence
between the prediction and.the events.
To solve the difficulty, it should be remembered that all those
crimes which are outrages on social order, naturally lead to such
consequences as punish the offenders in the persons of their families. If Scripture had contained no such declaration as that of
God's visiting of the sins of parents on their children; yet, as it is
applicable to temporal calamity, and to a corrupt influence on mor.




THE SIN OF DAVID IN THE CASE OF URIAH. 449
als-for of those points only, it could have been intended-rthe sense
of the declaration is apparent in the course of Divine Providence,
and can not have escaped the notice of the most superficial observer.
The personal forgiveness indulged to the King of Israel, in consideration of his penitence, did not break the connection between causes
and their effects; did not prevent the adultery of the father from
reconciling his son Ammon to lewdness in another line; nor the
murder of an innocent subject, from being such an example of violence to his son Absalom, as may have caused him to aspire to de.
throne his father. This connection is stamped on the unchanging
laws of God in nature: and it becomes every man, instead of arraign.
ing the appointment, to bring support to his domestic happiness by
the instrumentality of a good example. To put out of view such
crimes as are immediately invasions in the peace of society, it may
be acted on indirectly by hereditary depravity, in a variety of ways.
Every man whose conduct or whose conversation has a tendency to
release the consciences of his children from the sense of responsibility to a righteous Judge, or even has not a tendency to sustain
that authority, and to induce subjection to it, knows not to what
extent there is laid a train of cause-s, which shall eventuate in the
temporal and the eternal ruin of those within his sphere of influence.
Still, there is before us the pardon of a stupendous crime, which
may be a ground of hope, not for sin in prospect, not for that which
has not been succeeded by the pangs of penitence, leading to a
change of heart and a reformation of life, but to a spirit humbled
under the sense of transgression, and to a conscience which might
otherwise be driven to despair.
From the review of the transaction, let us learn the importance
of the admonition-" be not high.minded, but fear;" and "let him
that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." If such a person
as David, whose writings contain the most just and elevated sentiments concerning the attributes of God and human duty and devotional compositions admirably descriptive of the breathings of holy
desire, could be so far put off his guard by a life of ease and affluence, as to be gradually drawn into crimes of the deepest dye; what
a reason is it for humility, for vigilance, and for a constant imploring of the Divine aid I
As his fall should be a warning to the secure, so his repentance
should be an example to the sinner, than which there could have
bees more teeming with anguish and self-reproach. But if any
should make it an encouragement of presumption, they manifest
29




450                  WILLIAM  WHITE.
such a contrariety to his character, in respect to a sense of moral
worth and the indispensable requisitions of religion, as makes it too
probable that they will never be like him in his seeking and his ob~ ~ining of forgiveness.
Rat'n, therefore, let it be a motive with all, for the keeping
of their passions in subjection. Yes, 0 man, let it be a lesson to
thee, against the indulgence of licentious desires. Let it also lead
thee to reflect on the miseries which this destroyer is daily heaping
on the human kind. When thou seest him offering up his victims
to vice and infamy; when thou tracest his achievements in the births
of infants, the heirs of want and wickedness; when thou beholdest
the untimely graves, which have opened for the reception of his
votaries; when thou observest him invading every thing sacred in
private life, and blasting all the friendships which arise from its
relations; and lastly, when thou followest him through scenes of
contention, of malice, and of bloodshed, the effects of his mischievous frenzy, ask thyself whether it be possible he should bestow any
satisfaction, which shall repay thee for the consciousness of having
contributed to this mass of misery. Let the sentiment be impressed
by the anticipation of feelings, which may possess thee in thy dying
hour, when thou shalt look back on thy actions, as following thee
to judgment. Let the effect of such reflections be the guarding of
thine heart, by the wholesome instructions of God's word. And
put up thy daily prayers for the assistances of His grace, which is
competent to the raising of thee above the power of thy corruptions.
That grace, if duly cultivated, will carry thee on to the end of life,
not only without the consciousness of flagrant crime, but with such
purity and self-command as is the source of pleasures infinitely
superior to those of sensuality and excess.
In regard to the past, there is a circumstance in the case of David,
which should be held out in warning to those who carry in theil
consciences the guilt of unrepented sin. That royal offender had
dishonored a subject, and then compassed his death: and yet, for any
thing that appears, considerable time had passed without self-condemnation, between the dates of those atrocities and the Divine
message by the prophet. Many are the sins continually practiced,
which, although not meeting like his the public eye, are like it in
the circumstance of their being destructive of the peace of others,
and ruinous to their prospects. If there should be any one within
hearing, conscious of having been guilty of an action of this de.
scription, whether it be in a degree like that of David; or in any
other way the cause of unmerited injury and suffering; to such a




THE SIN OF DAVID IN THE CASE OF tRIAH. 451
person the moral of Nathan's parable speaks. Or rather, the ministers of the Gospel may consider themselves as speaking to him,
under a commission as authoritative as that of Nathan, and saying,
Thou art the man who hast abused the advantages, whatever they
were, which had been bestowed on thee by nature or by Providence.
Be assured, that for this, " God will bring thee into judgment." Repent, therefore, while the day of grace remains. Under the operation of the Holy Spirit, "let there be made a clean heart, and
renewed a right spirit within thee:" and by exemplary conduct in
future, do what is in thy power to make amends to the community
of mankind, for the portion of sorrow which they have received
from thee.
In regard to all of us, and in regard to every deviation from the
holy Spirit of the Divine law, let the subject excite that sensibility
of conscience, which will render us accessible to the ordinary reproofs and threatenings of the Divine word. They are all such as
may be usefully brought home to the heart of the individual hearer.
Let them, therefore, not to mention the commisson of sin, but in
regard to all neglect of duty, be considered as personally addressing
us with the admonition that we are so far falling short of a preparation for "the inheritance of the saints in light;" and further as inviting us to "redeem the time," since "the night of death approaches,
in which no man can work."
Brethren, it will not be irrelative to the subject to remark, that
in the address of Nathan, with its effect on the conscience of David,
we have an anticipation of the energy with which the preached Gospel has been since clothed by its great Ordainer. Many and often
have been the occasions on which there has been manifested the
property of the word of God, significantly described as "a two edged
sword, piercing to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit." Sometimes it has been like the arrow of " a bow drawn at a venture but
piercing through the joints and the harness."  Sometimes the hearer
has been at a loss to conjecture in what way the thoughts of his
heart became so exactly known, as to draw down animadversion
from the pulpit, when his case and perhaps his person, were unknown to the preacher, and when the true cause was the adaptation
of the word of God, to the workings of human nature. Sometimes
there have been excited sensibilities, not seldom ending either in
extravagance, or in "the goodness which passes away like the morning cloud;" while in other cases they have had salutary and lasting
effects in silence and retirement. Sometimes the sinner, thus brought
to a sense of the error of his ways, has immediately entered on the




452                  WILLIAM  WHITE.
work of reformation; while sometimes, without any visible effect
at the present, the seed, lodged in a favoring soil, has felt the fostering influence of succeeding events of life, propitious to its vegetation and to its growth. In all this there has been verified the promise of the Saviour, of being " with His Church to the end of the
world." While it admonishes every minister of the Gospel, of
the weight of his responsibility; it is equally interesting to his
hearers; intimating to them the importance of keeping their hearts
open to a property of the Divine word, by which they may be either
reformed or edified, as their several cases may require. It should
especially be borne in mind, that when any truth of Scripture is
winged with effect to the conscience or to the affections, it is by the
energy of the Holy Spirit of God, without which, even "Paul may
plant, and Apollos water" in vain; and that, while on the one hand,
the said blessed Agent may be " resisted," may be "grieved," may
be "quenched;" on the other hand, where there is a yielding to his
governance, it will be fruitful of the "peacepassing understanding,"
and will'keep" the possessor of it, "through faith unto salvation."




DISCOURSE SEVENTYFIRST.
JOHN LELAND.
THIS celebrated preacher was born in Grafton, Massachusetts, M[ay
14, 1754; and in 1774 united with the Baptist Church in Bellingham,
from which body he received license to preach at the age of twenty years.
He was ordained in 1776. His first ministerial labors were in Virginia,
Pennsylvania, and South Carolina, where he had a circuit of one hundred and twenty miles in length. For some time, revivals almost constantly followed his labors. In about two years he had baptized four
hundred individuals. In the fourteen years of his preaching, in that part
of the country, he baptized seven hundred. In 1790 he removed to New
England. After preaching awhile in Connecticut and in Conway, Massachusetts, he settled at Cheshire, in the latter State, where he resided for
nearly half a century, though making frequent preaching tours through
Vermont, Virginia, New York, and many other States. He died in
January 1841, in his eighty-seventh year.
The life of Leland was one of astonishing activity and distinguished
usefulness. During his ministry of sixty-eight years he traveled seventy.
five thousand miles, preached eight thousand sermons, and baptized one
thousand five hundred converts to Christ. Wherever he went he produced a sensation. He was listened to by politicians, and by the religious, by the learned and the unlearned, by the refined and the vulgar,
by the young and the old, and always with intense interest, sometimes
causing them to weep by his pathos and power, and sometimes producing the contrary effect by his marked eccentricities. Sternly independent, a true patriot and defender of civil and religious rights, possessed of rare natural endowments, shrewd, clear-headed, absolutely
fearless in the discharge of duty, whether in the pulpit, council, or legislative chamber, he was sure to excite attention and leave the impress of his strong will. Besides his numerous contributions to periodicals, political, moral, and religious, he published over thirty pamphlets,
sermons and poems.
Leland belonged to a class of ministers now rapidly passing awayself-made, deep-thinking, strong-minded, gospel-loving, hard-working, and
often eminently useful men, who toiled for their Master, and looked for




454                    JORN LELAND.
their reward in heaven. We introduce the following sermon not only as
a specimen from this class of preachers, but as exhibiting the marks of
decided.genius, and powers of graphic description. It is very lengthy,
and its chief excellence lies in the first part-the portion of it which is
selected-and which is a sublime prose-poem. It was first preached at
Grafton, Massachusetts. A few unimportant alterations are made, to
suit the abridged form in which it is here given.
THE JARRINGS OF HEAVEN RECONCILED BY THE
BLOOD OF THE CROSS.
"And by Him to reconcile all things unto Himself; by Him, I say, whether they be
things in earth or things in heaven."-CoLossrIAN, i. 20.
The reconciliation of " things in heaven," is the part of the text
which I shall attend to.
Let reverence and humility possess my heart, while I develop
the character of the Deity-and let all who hear me, at awful dis.
tance, bow.
All the changes that have taken place from the beginning until
now, and all that will take place hereafter, give to the Almighty no
new ideas, furnish Him with no novel matter for consideration.
Things which are past, present, or to come, with men, are all in the
eternal now of the great JEHOVAH; and yet He speaks of Himself
as if thoughts and designs entered His mind in a train of succession.
The Divine Being is not composed of parts, or possessed of passions like men; He nevertheless, in condescension to our weakness,
speaks of Himself as having head, eyes, ears, face, mouth, etc.; also
as being jealous, angry, pacified, reconciled, having His anger turned
away, and the like.
Our text implies a contention in heaven; and that the Father of
our Lord Jesus Christ undertook to reconcile the contending parties
to Himself, by Jesus Christ; and that Jesus obtained a peace among
all the jarring interests in heaven, by the blood of the cross.
The particulars to be attended to, are,
I. To explain the cause of this contention; and,
II. To nominate the parties at variance, together with their re.
spective pleas.
First. I am to explain the cause of this contention. The rebellion of man against His God, is that which gave rise to this conten



THE JARRINGS OF HEAVEN RECONCILED.    455
tion. When this contention began in heaven (to speak after the
manner of men) the great I AM arraigned the criminal, man, and
summoned all the contending parties to appear and make their pleas,
before the great white throne of divine glory. Which leads me,
Secondly. To treat of the contending parties and their pleas.
The Holy Law began: "My rise is not from revelation, although
that does me honor; throughout the second volume I hold conspicuous rank and have been magnified and obeyed by the Son of God.
But my origin is from the great scale of being itself; so that if there
had been no revelation among men, honor and regard would have
been my due. Yet with all the sacred majesty due to my character,
man, the dependent creature, has risen in rebellion and disregarded
my voice; not only in one instance, but sin, taking advantage by
me, has wrought in him all manner of concupiscence-so that the
imagination of his heart is only evil continually. Now we know a
law is nothing without a penalty to enforce it; and a penalty threatened is but a piece of mockery unless it is executed. In this case,
therefore, should man escape with impunity, the Divine government
would be reduced to contempt, and every fugitive vagrant would be
hardened in his wickedness. My demand, therefore, is, that man
should die without mercy."
Truth next approached the throne, and after attending to and
confirming all which the holy law had said, added, " The soul that
sins shall die-cursed is every one that continueth not in all things
which are written in the law-he that offends in one point is guilty
of the whole-the wicked shall be turned into hell —in the day thou
rebellest thou shalt surely die. These are the true sayings of God,
sentences which came from the mouth of that Being who can not
lie; the veracity of the Almighty is therefore pledged that the sinner, man, be speedily executed, without delay —for, if sentence
against an evil work be not speedily executed, the hearts of the vicious will be fully set on mischief, and nothing but anarchy and confusion will be seen in the empire."
Justice then advanced, with piercing eyes like flaming streams,
and burning tongue like the devouring fire, and made his plea, as
follows: " My name may sound inharmonious to the guilty, but that
which is just must be right, and the least deviation therefrom must
be wrong I I plead for nothing but what is just. I come not with
an ec post facto law, to inflict a penalty which was not known at the
time the sin was committed, but I come to demand the life and blood
of the rebel man, who sinned with eyes opened-for guilt will always
stain the throne of glory till vengeance is taken on the traitor."




456                   JOHN LELAND.
Holiness then addressed the sovereign Arbiter of life and death
in the words following: " My name and nature forbid the continue
ance of the sinner, man, in the empire. He is full of wounds and
bruises, and putrifying sores; from the crown of his head to the sole
of his foot there is no soundness in him; among all his helpers there
is no healing medicine, and if there was, yet he is so stubborn that
he would not apply it. Therefore, as two can neither walk nor live
together except they be agreed, either the polluted sinner or consummate holiness must quit the regions."
By this time darkness and smoke filled the temple, and seven
thunders uttered their voices. The flashes of vindictive fire broke
out impatient from the throne, and the angelic messenger waved his
dread weapon, which high brandished shone, thirsting for human
blood, while hell grew proud in hopes of prey, and laughed profanely loud. The sun became black as sack-cloth, and the heavens
were all in angry convulsion. The earth shook to its center, and the
everlasting hills trembled. Angels stood astonished at the awful
emblems of Divine displeasure, expecting each moment to see the
rebel hurled to eternal darkness, as they had seen their fallen brethren, who left their first estate in a former period.
Omnpotence appeared as the executioner of the criminal, clothed
in panoply divine-robed in awful majesty. Thunders rolled before
him, the shafts of lightning darted through the ethereal vault; the
trumpet sounded, the mountains skipped like rams, and the little hills
like lambs; even Sinai itself was moved at the presence of the Lord.
At the brightness that was before Him His thicks clouds passed hailstones and coals of fire. In one hand He had an iron rod with which
He could dash His enemies to pieces like a potter's vessel, and in the
other a sharp sword, with two edges. He set one foot on the sea,
and the other on the earth, and lifted His hand to heaven. His face
was awfully majestic, and His voice as the roaring of a lion; but
none could learn from His appearance whether He chose to strike
the vengeful blow, or interest Himself in behalf of the criminal. At
length He spoke: "I am able to destroy as I was mighty to create;
nothing is too hard for Me to do. All worlds were spoken into existence by My word, and all material worlds hang upon nothing,
through My power; yet I have no will, no choice of My own. Let
all the contending parties agree, and I am at their command, all acquiescent. The charges against the criminal, as they now stand, call
for My vindictive stroke, but if any expedient shall be found to overrule the pleas which have been made, when the final result is made,
then I shall act. Vicious beings feel power and forget right, but




THE JARRINGS OF HEAVEN  RECONCILED.    457
Omnipotence is governed by right. The works which I perform are
those which all the perfections of Deity, in concert, point out."
Wisdom then arose, and spake to the following effect: "Why is
the decree so hasty from the King? The matter is of the first importance. One soul is worth more than all the world. The pending
decision not only affects this one criminal, but the millions and millions of human kind. I, Wisdom, dwell with prudence, and find
out knowledge of witty inventions-I therefore object to the execution of the criminal, not to controvert the pleas of Law, Truth, and
Justice, but to wait until it shall be known whether man has any
friend at court who is wise, powerful, and good enough to relieve
him, in a way with which Law, Truth, and Justice will be satisfied."
Love then came forward, in all his winning forms; his bosom
swelled with philanthropy, and his eye bespoke the benevolence of
his heart. In mellifluent accents he began, " My name is Love. No
one in heaven claims higher rank than myself, for God is Love, of
course none deserves to be heard and regarded more than I do. My
love to man is everlasting, and neither death nor life, angels, principalities, nor powers, things present, things to come, nor any other
creature shall ever extinguish my love.
"'Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above:
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.'
Should the rebel, therefore, be doomed to perdition, with all his
vast progeny, the cross of my love would cause eternal mourning in
heaven; to prevent which my fervent cry is, Let the rebel live."
Grace also appeared on the side of the criminal, and made the
following plea: "If a creature receives from a fellow-creature, or
from his God, a compensation for any services rendered unto him, it
is reward and not grace; but if he receives a favor, for which he
has no claim on the donor, it is grace. If, moreover, a donor confers a favor, not only on a needy creature, who has no claim on
the donor, no any thing to buy with; but on one, who in addition
to his need, hbs contracted guilt, and is an enemy to the donor, this
is grac of a marvelous kind. This is my name, and this is my
memorial, and shall be through all ages. To do good for evil is
godlike. My plea, therefore, is, that all the transgressions of the
criminal may be blotted out-cast behind the back of his Godsunk in the midst of the sea, and he himself raised to a station far
more exalted than he possessed before he sinned. If this should




458                   JOHN LELAND.
not be the case, grace would be a word without meaning, and the
benevolence of Jehovah would be obscured forever.
Mercy, in concert with Love and Grace, was all divine oratory' in
favor of the rebel, and proceeded: " I can not claim the same rank
among the attributes of Deity, that Wisdom, Power, Holiness,
Goodness, Truth and Justice can, since I am myself the child of
Love.  *       *      *       *      *       *      *      *
But when innocent creatures fall into need and misery, the display
of Love assumes my name, Mercy. As I therefore have a name in
heaven, as Mercy is magnified above the heavens; as Jehovah is
rich in mercy, and is the Lord God gracious and merciful, I plead
for the life of the criminal at the bar."
Here the pleas ended for a season, and profound silence filled the
temple of God.
After a solemn pause, the great I AM, the sovereign judge, thus
spake: "The statements and demands of Law, Truth and Justice
against the criminal, are well supported. Love, Grace and Mercy
have discovered abundance of goodness and good-will toward the
sinner; but they have not shown how the law can be honored,
Truth supported, and Justice satisfied, in the forgiveness of the
rebel; and unless such an expedient can be produced, man must
die without mercy. If any of the celestial angels, or any being in
the universe can suggest the expedient, the sinner lives-if not, he
dies."
He spake —He closed-but all was whist, and silence reigned in
heaven.
The elect angels knew how Love, through a Mediator, could confirm innocent creatures in their innocency, but had no idea how
criminals could be pardoned.
At the instance of Justice, Omnipotence arose like a lion fron.
the swellings of Jordan; made bare His thundering arm, high raised
His brandished sword, waved His iron rod, and advanced towerd
the rebel with hasty strides.
Love cried, Forbear, I can not endure the sight I
The Law replied, Cursed is every one that continueth not in alt
things written in the law to do them. The soul that sins, shall die I
Grace exclaimed, Where sin hath abounded, grace shall much
more abound!
Truth said, In the day that thou transgressest thou shalt srurely
die I
Mercy proclaimed, Mercy rejoiceth against judgment 
Justice, with piercing eye, and flaming tongue, said  "Strike




ThLE JARRINGS OF HEAVEN RECONCILED.    459
strike! strike the rebel deadl and remove the reproach from the
throne of heaven!"
At this the angels drooped their wings, and all the harps of
heaven played mournful odes. The flaming sword, to pierce the
criminal, came near his breast, and the iron rod, to dash him to
pieces like a potter's vessel, was falling on his head; when lo I on a
sudden, the voice of Wisdom sounded louder than seven thunders,
and made the high arches of heaven to ring and reverberate"DELIVER HIM FROM GOING DOWN TO THE PIT, FOR I HAVE FOUND
A RANSOM I"
In that all-eventful crisis, the eternal SON OF GOD, in a mediatonial form, appeared, clothed with a garment down to the feet, and
girt about the paps with a golden girdle. Angels paid Him profound reverence, and the great I AM placed Him at His right
hand.
He saw the ruined, guilty man, and oh! amazing grace! He
loved. With pity all His inmost bowels moved. He said, " I was
set up from everlasting, my goings have been of old, and my delights
are with the sons of men. The sinner shall live."
The Law, in awful majesty, replied: " I am holy, just, and good,
my injunctions on the rebel were perfectly proper for a human being,
and my penalty, which the rebel has incurred, is every way proportionate to his crime."
Mediator.-" All you say is true. I am not come to destroy the
law, but to fulfill. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but not a jot
or tittle of the law shall fail."
Truth.-" The lips that never spoke amiss, have said, that the
wicked shall be turned into hell. My veracity is therefore pledged
to see it executed."
Mediator. —" That part of truth which was proper to reveal unto
man, as a moral agent, has said as you relate, with abundance more
to the same effect; but that part of truth which the great Jehovah,
my heavenly Father, spake unto me, in the covenant of peace,
which is made between us both, has declared, that, on account of an
atonement which I shall make, sin shall be pardoned, and sinners
sa red."
Holiness.-" I am so pure that I can never admit a sinner into
heaven. Nothing unclean or that worketh a lie shall ever enter
there."
Mediator.-" Provision is made in the new covenant, whereof I am
the Mediator and Messenger, to remove the pollution as well as the
guilt of sin. I have guarantied that sinners shall be washed in my




460                   JOHN  LELAND.
blood and made clean, and come before the throne of glory without
spot or wrinkle, or any such thing."
Justice cried out again, "Strike I"
Mediator.-" Not the sinner, but the Surety I"
Justice.-" Can heaven admit of a vicarious suffering?"
Mfediator. —" It is that of which no government on earth ever will
admit, or ever ought to do, but is the singular article agreed upon
in the scheme of salvation, which will astonish the universe in its
accomplishment. In the fullness of time I shall be born of a woman; be made under the law, and perfectly obey and magnify it,
which is all that the law in reason can require of human nature. I
shall suffer that penalty for sinners which justice will approve,
and God shall accept; shall die, and follow death to its last recess;
shall rise again with the same flesh and bones, and thereby obtain
the victory over death. I shall continue awhile in the world after I
rise, to give incontestible proofs of the resurrection; and then reascend the throne of glory.   *    *    *    *
"The day of days will commence; the great day of dread, for
which all other days were made, will arrive; on that day the dead
shall be raised, and those who are living on earth shall be changed
from a mortal to an immortal state, and all of them shall come to
judgment before My bar. Those who are like goats among sheep,
like tares among wheat, who are unclean and polluted, who are
lovers of transgression and haters of obedience, who have broken
the law-wantoned with atoning blood, and done despite against the
work of the Holy Ghost; shall be banished the kingdom-cast into
outer darkness, and gnaw their galling bonds forever. But the
righteous (both those whose souls have been in Paradise, and their
bodies sleeping in the dust, and those also who never shall have
died) shall be admitted into the kingdom prepared for them —shall
enter into life eternal.
" Now, if any one in heaven has aught against this plan, let him
speak; for I have undertaken to reconcile all things and beings in
heaven to the salvation of man."
He closed! but 0 what rapturous joy beamed forth on every face
in heaven I Law, Truth, and Justice cried out, " It is all we want
or wish for." Love, Grace, and Mercy shouted, "It is the joy of
our hearts-the delight of our eyes, and the pleasure of our souls."
The great I AM said, "It is finished —the expedient is found-the
sinner shall live-deliver him from going down to the pit, for a ransom is found "'  The angels, filled with heavenly pity and divine
concern, who had been waiting in anxious suspense, through the




THE JARRINGS OF HEAVEN RECONCILED.    461
important contest, now swept their golden harps, and sang aloud1
"Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth and good-will to man I
Thou art worthy, 0, Thou Son of God, to receive glory, and honor,
and riches, and power, forever and ever! Man, though a little
lower in nature than ourselves, shall be raised even higher, being in
likeness of nature more like the Son of God. While we shall be
ever adoring confirming love through a Mediator, men will be extolling the riches of redeeming blood and the freeness of boundless
grace."
The great I AM then said to the Mediator, "Forasmuch as
Thou hast undertaken to reconcile all things in heaven and in earth
to me, and hast proposed a plan of reconciliation in which all contending parties are agreed, in which mercy and truth meet together,
righteousness and peace kiss each other, justice and judgment sur.
round My throne, and mercy and truth go before My face-and
whereas I know that Thou will, at the time appointed, fulfill all Thy
engagements, at the expense of Thy blood;-therefore, behold I give
Thee a name which is above any name-that at the name of JESUS
every knee shall bow, and every tongue shall confess. Thou shalt
have dominion from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the
earth. I will divide Thee a portion with the great, and Thou shalt
divide the spoils with the strong. I will give the heathen for Thine
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for Thy possession,
and I will glorify Thee with Myself, with the glory which Thou
hadst before the world began."




DISCOURSE SEVENTY SECOND.
JONATHAN MAXCY, D.D.
PRESIDmENT MAXCY was born at Attleborough, Massachusetts, Sep.
tember 2, 1768, and graduated at Brown University in 1787, with the
highest honors of his class. He was then appointed tutor in the college; which office he filled with much success for four years. About
this time he united with the first Baptist Church in Providence. In
1790 he received license to preach from this church, and the year following resigned his tutorship and assumed its pastoral charge, being ordained September 8, 1791. On the day of his ordination he was elected
a Trustee of the college, and also appointed Professor of Divinity. The
next year, after the death of President Manning, in 1791, he was elected
to the Presidency of the college, to meet which appointment he resigned
the charge of the church. He was now only twenty-four years of age;
but the brilliancy of his talents had already given him a wide reputation.
In 1802 he was elected President of Union College, where he officiated
two years; when, desiring a climate more congenial to his failing
health, he accepted the appointment of President of the South Carolina
College, which station he filled for the next sixteen years; or until the
time of his death, June 4th, 1820.
Dr. Maxcy sustained the reputation of a sound scholar in the various
branches of learning, both elegant and profound. He cultivated with
pecial enthusiasm an acquaintance with classical literature, belles-lettres,
and the fine arts. As a teacher he was unsurpassed in popularity. But
the admirable proportion and harmony of his powers never appeared to
better advantage than in the pulpit. His conceptions were bold and
striking, and his style pure, elegant, and often sublime. The American
pulpit has had few preachers of more enchanting eloquence. "The
eloquence of Maxcy," says one, "was mental; you seemed to hear the
soul of the man; and each one of the largest assembly, in the most extended place of worship, received the slightest impulse of his silver
voice as if he stood at his very ear. In the most thronged audiences
you heard nothing but the preacher and the pulsations of your own
heart; and hio utterance was not more perfect than his whole discourse
was instructive and enchanting."




BELIEF IN  THE DIVINE EXISTENCE.                  463
The literary remains of President Maxcy consist of fifteen sermons,
five addresses, and three orations, published with a Memoir in one volume,
octavo. One of his most celebrated productions is the short discourse
here given. It was delivered at Providence, in 1795, and produced a
striking effect. The train of thought is luminous and philosophical, and
is marked by sublime sentiments and beautiful imagery, embodied in
classical and forcible language.
A PRACTICAL BELIEF IN THE DIVINE EXISTENCE.
"For the invisible things of Him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen,
being understood bly the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead." —
ROMANS, i. 20.
Nothing will more effectually guard us against vice than a firm
belief of the existence of God. For surely if we realize that there
is such a Being, we shall naturally infer from His perfections, from
the nature of His moral government, and from our situation as rational creatures, that we are amenable at His awful tribunal. Superior power, wisdom, and goodness always lay us under restraint and
command our veneration.  These, even in a mortal, overawe us.
They restrain, not only the actions, but the words and thoughts of
the most vicious and abandoned. Our happiness depends on our
virtue. Our virtue depends on the conformity of our heart and conduct to the laws prescribed us by our beneficent Creator.
Of what vast importance, then, is it to our present as well as
future felicity to possess in our hearts a feeling sense, and in our
understandings a clear conviotion, of the existence of that Being
whose power and goodness are unbounded, whose presence fills im.
mensity, and whose wisdom, like a torrent of lightning, emanates
through all t te dark recesses of eternal duration! How great must
be the effect of a sense of the presence of the great Creator and
Governor of all things, to whom belong the attributes, eternity, independency, perfect holiness, inflexible justice, and inviolable veracity; complete happiness and glorious majesty; supreme right, and
unbounded dominion t A sense of accountability to God will retard
the eager pursuit of vice; it will humble the heart of the proud; it
will bridle the tongue of the profane, and snatch the knife from the
hand of the assassin.
A belief of the existence of God is the true original source of all
virtue, and the only foundation of all religion, natural or reveale<L




464                JONATHAN MAXCY.
Set aside this great luminous truth, erase the conviction of it from
the heart: you then place virtue and vice on the same level; you
drive afflicted innocence into despair; you add new effrontery to the
marred visage of guilt; you plant thorns in the path and shed an
impenetrable gloom over the prospects of the righteous. Sin has
alienated the affections and diverted the attention of men from the
great Jehovah. " Darkness has covered the earth, and gross darkness the people." Men have worshiped the works of their own
hands, and neglected the true God, though His existence and perfections were stamped in glaring characters on all creation. From the
regularity, order, beauty, and conservation of this great system of
things, of which man makes a part; from the uniform tendency of
all its divisions to their proper ends, the existence of God shines as
clearly as the sun in the heavens. "From the thingsdthat are made,"
says the text, "' are seen his eternal power and Godhead."
I. Man himself is a proof of God's existence. Let us place Him
before us in His full stature. We are at once impressed with the
beautiful organization of His body, with the orderly and harmonious
arrangement of His members. Such is thae disposition of these, that
their motion is the most easy, graceful, and useful than can be conceived. We are astonished to see the same simple matter diversified
into so many different substances, of different qualities, size, and figure. If we pursue our researches through the internal economy,
we shall find that all the different parts correspond to each other
with the utmost exactness and order; that they all answer the most
beneficent purposes. This wonderful machine, the human body is
animated, cherished, and preserved, by a spirit within, which pervades every particle, feels in every organ, warns us of injury, and
administers to our pleasures. Erect in stature, man differs from all
other animals. Though his foot is confined to the earth, yet his eye
measures the whole circuit of heaven, and in an instant takes in
thousands of worlds. His countenance is turned upward, to teach
us that He is not like the other animals, limited to the earth, but
looks forward to brighter scenes of existence in the skies.
Whence came this erect, orderly, beautiful constitution of the
human body? Did it spring up from the earth self-formed? Surely
not.  Earth itself is inactive matter. That which has no motion
can never produce any. Man surely could not, as has been vainly
and idly supposed, have been formed by the fortuitous concurrence
of atoms. We behold the most exact order in the constitution of
the human body. Order always involves design. Design always
involves intelligence. That intelligence which directed the orderly




BELIEF IN THE D1VINE EXISTENCE.                465
formation of the human body, must have resided in a Being whose
power was adequate to the production of such an effect. Creation
surely is the prerogative of a self-existent, uncaused Being. Finite
creatures may arrange and dispose, but they can not create; they
can not give life. It is a universal law through all nature that like
produces like. The same laws most probably obtain through the
whole system with which we are connected. We have, therefore
no reason to suppose that angels created man.
Neither can we, without the greatest absurdity, admit that he was
formed by himself, or by mere accident. If in the latter way, why
do we never see men formed so in the present day? Why do we
never see the clods of earth brightening into human flesh, and the
dust under our feet crawling into animated forms, and starting up
into life and intelligence? If we even admit that either of the forementioned causes might have produced man, yet neither of them
could have -preserved him in existence one moment. There must,
therefore, be a God uncaused, independent and complete.  The
nobler part of man clearly evinces this great truth. When we consider the boundless desires and the inconceivable activity of the soul
of man, we can refer his origin to nothing but God. How astonishing are the reasoning faculties of man! How surprising the power
of comparing, arranging, and connecting his ideas! How wonderfill is the power of imagination I On its wings, in a moment, we can
transport ourselves to the most distant part of the universe. We
can fly back, and live the lives of all antiquity, or surmount the
limits of time and sail along the vast range of eternity. Whence
these astonishing powers, if not from a God of infinite wisdom, good.
ness, and power?
2. " The invisible things of Him from the creation of the world,"
says the text, "are clearly seen."  Let us for a moment behold our
earth. With what a delightful scene are we here presented! The
diversification of its surface into land and water, islands and lakes,
springs and rivers, hills and valleys, mountains and plains, renders it
to man doubly enchanting. We are entertained with an agreeable
variety, without being disgusted by a tedious uniformity.
Every thing appears admirably formed for our profit and de.
light. There the valleys are clothed in smiling green, and the plains
are bending with corn. Here is the gentle hill to delight the eye,
and beyond, slow rising from the earth, swells the huge mountain,
and with all its loads of waters, rocks, and woods, heaves itself up
into the skies. Why this pleasing, vast deformity of nature? Undoubtedly for the benefit of man. From  the mountains descend
30




466               JO ONATHAN MA XCY.
streams to fertilize Ahe plains below, and cover them with wealth
and beauty. The earth not only produces every thing necessary to
support our bodies, but to remedy our diseases, and gratify our
senses. Who covered the earth with such a pleasing variety of
fruits and flowers? Who gave them their delightful fragrance, and
painted them with such exquisite colors? Who causes the same
water to whiten in the lily, that blushes in the rose? Do not these
things indicate a Cause infinitely superior to any finite being?  Do
they not directly lead us to believe the existence of God, to admire
His goodness, to revere His power, to adore His wisdom, in so happily accommodating our external circumstances to our situation and
internal constitution?
3. But how are we astonished to behold the vast ocean, rolling
its immense burden of waters! Who gave it such a configuration
of particles as to render it movable by the least pressure, and at
the same so strong as to support the heavier weights? Who spread
out this vast highway of all nations under heaven? Who gave it
its regular motion? Who confined it within its bounds?  A little
more motion would disorder the whole world! A small incitement
on the tide would drown whole kingdoms. Who restrains the proud
waves when the tempest lifts them to the clouds? Who measured
the great waters, and subjected them to invariable laws? That great
Being, " who placed the sand for the bound thereof by a perpetual
decree that it can not pass; and though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail; though they roar, yet can they not
pass over."  With reason may we believe that from the things that
are made, are clearly seen eternal power and wisdom.
4. Passing by the numerous productions and appendages of the
earth, let us rise from it, and consider the body of air with which we
are surrounded. What a convincing proof do we here find of the
existence of God? Such is the subtlety and transparency of the air,
that it receives the rays of the sun and stars, conveying them with
inconceivable velocity to objects on the earth, rendering them visible, and decorating the whole surface of the globe with an agreeable
intermixture of light, shade, and colors. But still this air has a sufficient consistency and strength to support clouds, and all the winged
inhabitants. Had it been less subtile it would have intercepted the
light. Had it been more rarified it would not have supported its inhabitants, nor have afforded sufficient moisture for the purposes of
respiration. What then but infinite wisdom could have tempered
the air so nicely as to give it sufficient strength to support clouds for
rain, to afford wind for health, and at the same time to possess the




BELIEF IN THE DIVINE EXISTENCE.                467
power of conveying sound and light? How wonderful is this element I How clearly does it discover infinite wisdom, power, and
goodness I
5. But when we cast our eyes up to the firmament of heaven we
clearly see that it declares God's handiwork. Here the immense
theater of God's works opens upon us, and discloses ten thousand
magnificent, splendid objects. We dwindle to nothing in comparison of this august scene of beauty, majesty, and glory. Who reared
this vast arch over our heads? Who adorned it with so many shining objects, placed at such immense distances from each other, regular in their motions, invariably observing the laws to which they
were originally subjected? Who places the sun at such a convenient distance as not to annoy, but to refresh us? Who for so many
ages has caused him to rise and set at fixed times? Whose hand
directs, and whose power restrains him in his course, causing him to
produce the agreeable changes of day and night, as well as the variety of seasons? The order, harmony, and regularity in the revolutions of the heavenly bodies are such incontestible proofs of the
existence of God, that an eminent poet well said " an undevout astronomer is mad." In the time of Cicero, when the knowledge of
astronomy was very imperfect, he did not hesitate to declare, that in
his opinion, the man who asserted the heavenly bodies were not
framed and moved by a Divine understandiug, was himself void of
all understanding. Well indeed is it said that the heavens declare
the glory of God.
This great Being is every where present. He exists all around
us. He is not, as we are apt to imagine, at a great distance. Wherever we turn, His image meets our view. We see Him in the earth,
in the ocean, in the air, in the sun, moon, and stars. We feel Him
in ourselves. He is always working round us; He performs the
greatest operations, produces the noblest effects, discovers Himself in
a thousand different ways, and yet the real GOD remains unseen. All
parts of creation are equally under His inspection. Though He
warms the breast of the highest angel in heaven, yet He breathes life
into the meanest insect on earth. He lives through all His works,
supporting all by the word of His power. He shines in the verdure
that clothes the plains, in the lily that delights the vale, and in the
forest that waves on the mountains. He supports the slender reed
that trembles in the breeze, and the sturdy oak that defies the tem~nest. His presence cheers the inanimate creation.
Far in the wilderness, where human eye never saw, where the
saw age fo, t never trod, there He bids the blooming forest smile, and




468                JONAHE AN MAXCY.
the blushing rose opens its leaves to the morning sun. There iEe
causes the feathered inhabitants to whistle their wild notes to the
listening trees and echoing mountains. There nature lives in all her
wanton wildness. There the ravished eye, hurrying from scene to
scene, is lost in one vast blush of beauty. From the dark stream
that rolls through the forest the silver-scaled fish spring up, and
dumbly mean the praise of God. Though man remain silent, yet
God will have praise. He regards, observes, upholds, connects, and
equals all.
The belief of His existence is not a point of mere speculation and
amusement. It is of inconceivable importance to our present as
well as future felicity. But while we believe there is a God, we
should be extremely careful to ascertain, with as much accuracy as
possible, what is His real nature. The most prominent features of
this are exhibited in that incomprehensible display of wisdom, power,
and goodness made in the works of creation. A virtuous man
stands in a relation to God which is peculiarly delightful. The Divine perfections are all engaged in his defense. He feels powerful
in God's power, wise in His wisdom, good in His goodness. The
vicious man, on the contrary, stands in a relation to God which is of
all things the most dreadful. He is unwilling to know that God has
sufficient wisdom to search out all his wickedness, sufficient goodness
to the universe to determine to punish that wickedness, and sufficient
power to execute that determination. A firm belief in the existence
of God will heighten all the enjoyments of life, and by conforming
our hearts to His will, will secure the approbation of a good conscience, and inspire us with the hope of a blessed immortality.
Never be tempted to disbelieve the existence of God, when every
thing around you proclaims it in a language too plain not to be understood. Never cast your eyes on creation without having your
souls expanded with this sentiment, " There is a God 1"  When you
survey this globe of earth, with all its appendages-when you behold
it inhabited by numberless ranks of creatures, all moving in their
proper spheres, all verging to their proper ends, all animated by the
same great source of life, all supported at the same great bounteous
table; when you behold not only the earth, but the ocean and the
air, swarming with living creatures, all happy in their situationwhen you behold yonder sun darting a vast blaze of glory over the
heavens, garnishing mighty worlds, and waking ten thousand songs
of praise-when you behold unnumbered systems diffused through
vast immensity, clothed in splendor, and rolling in majesty-when
you1 behold these things, your affections will rise above all the vani




BELIEF IN THE DIVINE EXISTENCE.                469
ties of time, your full souls will struggle with ecstasy, and your reason, passions, and feelings, all united, will rush up to the skies, with
a devout acknowledgment of the wisdom, existence, power, and
goodness of God. Let us behold Him, let us wonder, praise, adore.
These things will make us happy. They will wean us from vice,
and attach us to virtue.
As a belief of the existence of God is a fundamental point of sal.
vation, he who denies it runs the greatest conceivable hazard. He
resigns the satisfaction of a good conscience, quits the hope of a
happy immortality, and exposes himself to destruction. All this
for what? for the short-lived pleasure of a riotous, dissolute life.
1ow wretched when he finds his atheistical confidence totally de-,troyed. Instead of His beloved sleep and insensibility, with which
ae so fondly flattered himself, he will find himself still existing after
death, removed to a strange place; he will then find there is a God,
who will not suffer his rational beings to fall into annihilation as a
refuge from the just punishment of their crimes; he will find him.
self doomed to drag on a wretched train of existence in unavailing
woe and lamentation. Alas! how astonished will he be to find himself plunged into the abyss of ruin and desperation! God forbid
that any of us should act so unwisely as to disbelieve, when every
thing around us proclaims His existence I




DISCOURSE SEVENTY.THIRD
EDWARD D. GRIFFIN, D.D.
THE eloquent and gifted Griffin was born at East Haddam, Conn., in
January, 1770. He graduated at Yale College at the age of twenty, and
received his theological education at New Haven. In 1795 he was ordained pastor of the Congregational Church, at New Hartford, Conn.
Resigning his charge in this place in the year 1801, he became Colleague
Pastor with Dr. M'Whorter of the First Presbyterian Church, Newark,
N. J. After an eminently successful ministry of nearly eight years at
Newark, he accepted the appointment of Professor of Sacred Rhetoric
in the Theological Seminary at Andover, Mass., and was inaugurated in
June, 1809. A little more than two years from this time, he removed to
Boston, and became pastor of the Park street Church. In 1815 he returned to Newark, and was installed over the Second Presbyterian
Church in that city. After serving this people for seven years, he came
to the Presidency of Williams College, the duties of which office he performed with great acceptance and usefulness for the next fifteen years.
Advancing age and feebleness of health led him to resign this honorable
post in 1836; and on the 8th of November, 1837, he ceased from his
labors, in the sixty-eighth year of his age.
Dr. Griffin exerted a wide influence in each of the responsible positions which he held. He took an active part in the incipient movements
of the great missionary enterprise in this country, which owes much of
its success, under God, to his efficient labors and eloquent appeals. As
a promoter of revivals of religion, his services were not less important.
It has been said of him that the history of his life seems little less than
the history of one unbroken revival; and that it would be difficult to
find the individual in our country, since the days of Whitfield, who has
been the instrument of an equal number of conversions.
In the education of young men for the sacred office of the ministry,
his influence was also very great. But Dr. Griffin was most celebrated
for his surpassing powers of pulpit oratory. Noble and dignified in his
fvrm and bearing, with an eye full of fire, a countenance beaming with
light, and a voice capable of breathing forth the softest and gentlest




THE KINGDOM  OF CHRIST.                      471
emotions, or swelling into the majesty of thunder-like tones, he held the
complete command of his audiences; now coming down upon them to
break and to crush with the fury of the tempest; and now bearing them
or. sweet and transporting accents to the very gate of heaven.
Dr. Griffin's power was to a great extent attributable to his manner;
but his sermons, though not of uniform value, are yet for clearness of
thought, directness of point, pathos and appeal, among the best specimens in the language. They are valuable as revival sermons. Most of
them were written with great care, the author often re-writing and cutting out every thing superfluous. We have met with a brief plan of Dr.
Griffin's in writing his sermons, which is worthy of attention, and helps
to explain his success. It is as follows: 1. Write down the text on a
loose piece of paper and look at it. 2. Inquire what does it teach?
What shall be my object? Obtain a clear and definite view of the point.
3. Then commence thinking. Put down thoughts, as they occur, without regard to order or language-get as much material as possible. 4.
Then reduce these thoughts to order. This thought belongs under this
head; that idea should come in there, etc. 5. Throw out all extraneous
and foreign ideas. Many of Dr. Griffin's sermons were published in
1839, with an excellent memoir by Rev. W. B. Sprage, D.D. Of late,
some sixty more of his sermons have been published in a single volume.
That which is here given is not found in any collection of his discourses,
but it has been pronounced by a distinguished Professor of Sacred Rhetoric, as well as by others, the best discourse which Dr. Griffin ever wrote.
It sparkles, ever and anon, with beautiful pictures, and contains passages,
particularly toward the close, which, for grandeur and sublimity, are confessedly among the most splendid efforts of human genius. It was
preached before the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, in
Philadelphia, 1805, and published by request of that body.
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.
"For by Him were all things created that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible, and invisible, whe'her they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers; all
things were created by Him, and for Him."-CoLossrANs, i. 16.
While worldly minds are confined to a few surrounding objects,
unconscious of the great scenes above them, like men in a cavern
who have never beheld the glories of nature; the devout Christian
delights to raise his eyes, and contemplate the perfections of his
Creator. He feels a noble and inextinguishable ardor to ascend in
meditation to everlasting things, to lose sight of earth in his sub



472               EDWARD D. GRIFFIN
lime excursions, to tread the pavements of heaven, to take a near
view of God, from that exalted summit to look abroad among his
Father's works. The point to which his thoughts aspire, the highest
that a created mind can reach, is that from whence he may view the
amazing purposes which God is carrying into execution, and by this
means discover the moral character of their Author, and the tendency of all things. On this eminence stood the great apostle of
the Gentiles, when he pronounced the words of our text. Let us
accompany him to that commanding height; and while we view,
may the Divine Spirit clear the film from our mental sight, that we
may gaze with amazement, adoration, and love.
Placing ourselves at the beginning of time, and looking back
into eternity, we are anxious to know what induced the ever blessed
God to exercise His power in the production of creatures, and what
valuable object He proposed to accomplish by all His works. In
order to a right solution of these points, we must conceive an eternal
propensity in the fountain of love to overflow, and fill with happiness numberless vessels fitted to receive it. We must conceive an
eternal propensity in God to manifest the richness and perfection of
His nature to creatures; not for the sake of ostentatious display, but
to enrich the universe with the knowledge of His glory, and to lay
a foundation for general confidence and delight in Him. A state of
unproductive repose was not a condition becoming Himself. As the
sun exists in his proper and most glorious state when shedding his
beams to bless the dependent planets, so God is conceived to exist
in His proper and most glorious state when He is benevolently exercising His perfections on the created system, and, so to speak, hangs
them around Him like an external robe of light, to awaken the wonder and joy of creatures. The stupendous object which He contemplated was an immense and beautifully adjusted kingdom of holy
and happy creatures, in which He should be acknowledged as the
glorious Head, and they should take their proper place at His feet;
in which He should be felt as the center of attraction to draw all its
parts into union with Himself, and as a sun to shed blessed influence
upon the whole; and over which, when its prosperity should be
completed, He might " rejoice with joy, and rest in His love."
This was the glorious end which His goodness eternally proposed; and now we are to view the means which He ordained for its
accomplishment. The principal means adopted was the appointment of His Son to act as His vicegerent in the creation and government of all worlds, to assume a created. nature into personal
union with Himself, and thus to fill up the infinite chasm between




THE KINGDOM  OF CHRIST.                  473
God and His creation, and be the grand connecting bond between
finite and infinite natures. As head of His Father's kingdom, to
which He was to be closely united by His assumed nature, and as
the medium of all intercourse between that kingdom and His Father,
He was to form the most perfect union between God and His creatures. " As Thou, Father, art in Me, and I in Thee, that they also
may be one in us; I in them, and Thou in Me, that they may be
made perfect in one." Put forward into a public station, as His
Father's organ and image, to be seen by every eye, He was to bring
out the invisible God to view from the hidden recesses of His nature-to bring down the incomprehensible God within the reach of
finite apprehensions, and to serve as a mild glass through which
creatures might view the splendors of divine perfection without
dazzling and paining their sight.
This is the Christ, the anointed Agent, of whom our text declares, " By Him were all things created that are in heaven, and that
are in earth, visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers; all things were created by
Him, andfor Him."  This is not said of Him simply as God, but as
the Christ, who fills a middle place between God and man, and partakes of both natures. The character intended is pointedly marked
in the context, every part of which applies only to Christ. The
apostle is treating of the Messiah, and describes Him as " the image
of the invisible God, the first-born of every creature, the head of
the body, the Church, the first-born from the dead, in whom we have
redemption through His blood;" all of which can be understood of
Him only as Mediator, and not merely as second person of the Trinity. Can we then acquit the apostle of the charge of introducing a
strange confusion of characters, unless our text be allowed to assert
that all things were created by the Messiah, and for the Messiah?
The truth I take to be this: All the works which God designed
to produce throughout the universe, He delegated Christ to accomplish. All the displays of God which were ever intended to be
made to creatures, Christ was appointed to make. The vast plan
which involved the whole creation, and all the measures of divine
government, was one plan; the execution of which in all its parts,
was committed to Christ. It is elsewhere said that all things were
made " for God," that is, for the display of His perfections, and for
the promotion of that general interest of His kingdom which He
benevolently considers His own. In perfect consistency with this,
all things are here said to be made lbr Christ, that is, for the illustra.
tion of His mediatorial glory (not indeed as the ultimate and chief




474               EDWARD D. GRIFFIN.
end, but rather as the principal mode in which the glory of God was
to be displayed) and to subserve the vast plan which He was appointed to execute, in the issue of which God will be " all in all.'
It would seem, then, that it was in the character of Messiah that He
created the angels, the sun, moon, and stars, and all other things,
visible and invisible; and that He created them all for Himself as
Mediator; in a word, that He created all worlds to subserve His
mediatorial plan, the principal scene of which, it is well known, was
laid upon this earth. The same apostle, in another place, declares
that God " created all things by Jesus Christ"-and why?-" to the
intent that now unto the principalities and powers in heavenly places
might be known by the Church the manifold wisdom of God." In one
of his addresses to the Christian Church the apostle expressly asserts,
"all things are for your sakes."
Does it seem incredible that all other worlds should be created to
promote the purposes of grace upon this earth? Why is this more
incredible than that the Mediator should upon this earth " purchase
the glory of governing the rest of the universe, and that He should
govern the whole with reference to His Church?" —points which are,
in the clearest manner, revealed. It is said that " He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death; wherefore God also hath highly
exalted Him; that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of
things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth.
He raised Him from the dead, and set Him at His own right hand
in heavenly places, far above all principality, and power, and might,
and dominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world,
but also in that which is to come; and hath put all things under His
feet, and gave Him to be Head over all things to the Church, which
is His body, the fullness of Him that filleth all in all."
What purpose the Mediator intended to answer by other worlds
and their inhabitants, in prosecuting the plan of redemption, we do
not fully comprehend. The angels, it is well known, are subject to
Him as ministering spirits to His Church, and look with prying curiosity and astonishment into the mysteries of redemption. But
what use He makes of other worlds we are not told in His Word,
further than that they are put under His dominion; and we also
know that tl By serve to instruct His Church, while they influence,
adorn, and enlighten the earth on which it resides. And whatever
inhabitants they contain, we must believe that they do now, or will
in some future period, bend to look into the transcendent wonders
of redemption, and will take lessons of deep instruction and interest
from the astonishing scenes which are unfolding on the earth.




THE KINGDOM  OF CHRIST.                 475
But, passing by other worlds, the one which we inhabit was certainly made for the Mediator. This is the favored world where He
was to assume the nature that was intended to form the connecting
link between God and creatures; where He was to found a Church
to be " a spectacle to angels and to men;" where He was to display
the most august and awful wonder of His death. Here He was to
find a miserable race, without help and without hope, immersed in
vice and ignorance, groaning under the curse of a holy law, and
sinking into everlasting woe. Such an occasion was to be presented
for the exercise of His unequaled compassion, for an exhibition of
the infinite tenderness of His heart; the history of which is inscribed
on the tablet of the earth in tears and blood; the history of which
has been a million of times repeated by deeply-affected angels, and
will be rehearsed in the songs of the redeemed to eternity. To this
earth, and to Calvary, methinks I see every eye directed from the
most distant world which God has made. All seem to point to this,
and say, " Behold, for once, what infinite love could do I"
The several texts and arguments already adduced prove emphatically that this earth and all its furniture were created for the Mediator. And further to confirm this idea, let me ask, what valuable
purpose, except by means of the Mediator, could a world be expected
to answer, which, it was foreseen, would so quickly be ruined by
sin? What valuable end, in any other way, has it in fact answered?
We judge of the design of a thing by the use to which it is put.
To what valuable use, then, has the earth been put, but to bring
glory to God and good to creatures, "through the mediation of
Christ?" If it was designed for the happiness of man, none have
tasted happiness in it since the Fall, or found it a passage to heaven
but by the Mediator. That Priest only has procured it blessingsthat Prophet only has instructed its ignorance; that King only has
dispensed its comforts. If it was created for the glory of God, this
glory shines only in the face of Jesus Christ. "No man hath seen
God at any time; the only-begotten Son, which is in the bosom of
the Father, He hath declared Him." Him only have men beheld;
only His works and providence do men contemplate. Not one purpose desirable to benevolence, or illustrative of the wisdom or goodness of its Author, is answered by the earth, but in consequence of
the mediation of Christ. And of all the displays of divine glory,
the richest appear in His incarnation and atonement, in the pardon
and government which He administers in the Church.
As the earth has in fact answered no desirable purpose, but
through the agency of the Mediator, such a'fact must have been




476                EDWARD D. GRIFFIN.
foreseen in the day of its creation, and it must have been made only
for the sake of the good to be accomplished by Christ. It was
erected for a theater on which He might make an exhibition of the
Divine perfections in redeeming His Church, and punishing His enemies: and this being its design, the work of erecting it was, of course,
assigned to Him for whose use it was intended. He formed every
continent and ocean, every lake and island, every mountain and valley, to serve a race, who, He foresaw, would fall, and whom He was
determined to redeem. He created every beast that ranges the desert, every fowl that flutters under the arch of heaven, every fish
that dwells in the caves of the ocean, "every drop, and every dust,"
to subserve His great design of grace. The whole plan of this
world, including creation and providence, including every event
from its beginning to the final judgment, was involved in the plan of
redemption. The plan is one, though comprehending a vast variety
of parts. Among this variety, some parts are designed to fit the
earth, by innumerable secret and nameless influences, for the accommodation of a race to be redeemed; others, to unfold the wretched
character and condition of men, to illustrate their need of a Saviour,
and the richness of redeeming grace. Others are intended to prepare the way for carrying into effect the purposes of mercy, and to
facilitate, in many ways, their accomplishment.
Does the question arise, how is it possible that every minute substance and event should be serviceable to the kingdom of Christ?
The speaker does not presume to explain all the particular relations
and tendencies of God's works; but this, in general, must be granted-" they are all designed to promote the glory of God," though
the manner can not be explained. Give me this, and you give me
all: for whatever promotes the glory of God was needful to the
kingdom of Christ, since the discovery of God to men was an essential part of the plan of restoring them to the enjoyment of Him.
The objection that we can not discover the manner in which every
thing renders service to Christ, does not disprove our doctrine. If
in so simple a device as a manufactory constructed by human art,
buildings must be erected, and many machines, instruments, vessels,
and different substances employed, the use of some of which a
stranger would be unable to explain, though all are subordinate to
one end; it is no wonder that the stupendous plan of redeeming a
world should contain an inconceivable variety of parts, the subserviency of many of which, though necessary to the result, should elude
our research.
As the earth was created for the Mediator, so it is preserved to




THE KINGDOM  OF CHRIST.                  477
be the residence of His Church; in allusion to which fact the Church
is called "the salt of the earth," as being the occasion of saving it
from dissolut.)n.
By Christ, and for Christ, the earth is also governed. Having
erected this theater for an exhibition of redeeming grace, He took the
management of it into His own hands, and put it to the use for
which it was intended. He early established a Church upon it, anti
in the character of Mediator took into His hands its universal government. Made Head over all things to the Church, He has marched
down the tract of ages, holding the north in His right hand, and the
south in His left, with His eye immovably fixed upon this single
cause, and forcing all nations and events to pay tribute to it. In
the history of His government which the Holy Ghost has sketched,
we trace His dealings with nations and individuals for many ages,
and view His providence under a column of light which discloses
its tendency and object. Here we discover His hand employed behind the scene, in directing the affairs of many inferior nations, and
especially of the four great empires of antiquity, with pointed reference to His Church. Looking through the glass of prophecy, we
discern that throne which Ezekiel saw in his vision, rolling on the
wheels of providence down the descent of time to the end of the
world, prostrating every interest raised against His Church, and
overturning to prepare the way for-the full establishment of His
kingdom upon earth. Under His government, the apostle expressly
declares, "all things work together for good" to His Church; " all
things are theirs, whether the world-or things present, or things to
come." The revolutions of empires, rebellions and wars, the counsels of kings, and the debates of senates, are all pressed into the service of Christ. Bibles, sacraments, Sabbaths, and the effusions of the
Holy Spirit, have no other object. Seed-time and harvest, famine
and pestilence, tempests, volcanoes, and earthquakes, are all made
to advance His interest.
As this world was wholly intended for the scene of redemption,
"all the good which it contains" belongs to the plan of grace that
was laid in Christ. His kingdom comprises every valuable object
which God proposed to Himself in creating, preserving, and governing the world-the whole amount of His glory upon earth, and the
immortal blessedness of millions of men. It is the only cause on
earth that is worth an anxious thought. It is the only interest which
God pursues or valies, and the only object worthy of the attention
of men. For this sole object were they created, and placed in this
world, with social affections adapted to their present state, with em.




478                EDWARD D. GRIFFIN.
ployments appointed for the preservation of their lives. No one
interest distinct from the kingdom of Christ are they required to
pursue. No laws but those which appertain to this kingdom, and
which of course respect only the concerns of it, were ever enacted
by heaven to direct their conduct. Their secular employments, theil
social duties, are enjoined only as subordinate to the interests of this
kingdom. Their private and social propensities they are not indeed
required to extinguish; but with these about them, to march with a
strong and steady step directly toward this great object, with their
eye filled with its magnitude, and with hearts glowing with desires
for its promotion. It is required that "whether they eat or drink,
or whatever they do, they should do all" with reference to this
object.
As then, we can rely on the decision of infinite wisdom, expressed both in the example and precepts of God, we are assured
that this kingdom ought to engross the supreme cares of men, and
exert a commanding influence over all their actions; that it should
be the great object of their lives, and their governing motive every
hour. The bosom of the child should be taught to beat with delight
at the name of Jesus, before it is capable of comprehending the nature of his kingdom. The youth ought to regulate all his pleasures,
his actions, and his hopes, with an eye fixed on this kingdom. The
man ought to respect it in every important undertaking, in all his
common concerns, in the expressions of his lips, in the government
of his passions, in the thoughts of his heart. Not worldly emolument or distinction, but the interest of the blessed Redeemer, should
be his highest object-should be daily and hourly loved and sought
with all his heart and soul. To this should he consecrate all his
talents, all his influence, all his wealth. Instead of pursuing with
headlong zeal their separate interests, all men should join in promoting this kingdom, as the common interest of mankind-the great
concern for which they were sent into the world.
If the eyes of men were opened, they would see this cause to
be of infinite value-worthy to be the object for which all things
were created. It is the cause which not only all the energies of nature, but all beings and agents, conspire to advance. It is the be.
loved cause on which the heart of the Son of God was set, when it
beat in the babe of Bethlehem, and when it bled on the point of
the spear. It is the cause to which angels have zealously ministered; to which devils have involuntarily lent their aid. It is the
cause which has engaged the ardent attention of wise and good men
in every age. It is the cause for which patriarchs prayed, for which




THE KINGDOM  OF' CHRIST.                 479
prophets taught, for which apostles toiled, for which martyrs bled.
For the consummation of this cause upon earth many eyes have
waited, from age to age, in unwearied expectation; " many prophets
and righteous men have desired to see it;" many who sealed their
faith with their blood, looked forward to this glorious event with
eyes glistening in the agonies of death. " The whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together" to bring forth this grand consummation.
The cause of Christ is the only one which will prevail and live
amid the wrecks of time. Strong as the arm of Omnipotence, it
will hold on in its majestic course, bearing down and crushing every
thing that resists its progress. Every interest that is placed on this
foundation is safe; but inevitable ruin awaits every thing beside.
Woe to the man whose destinies are not united with the kingdom
of Christ! Woe, woe to the man who sets himself to oppose this
holy kingdom!
Though at present disregarded by men, the kingdom of Christ is
destined to engage the profound attention of all nations. It is destined to banish from the abodes of men the miserable effects of the
fall, and to restore all the tribes of the earth to themselves and to
God. When the glories of this kingdom shall cover all landswhen, after a long succession of wintery years, the spring-time of the
world shall come, when the beauties of holiness shall clothe
every region, and songs of salvation shall float in every breeze;
then will it be seen that the world was not made in vain. It
is transporting to look down the vale of time, and see the miseries
of six thousand years come to an end, the convulsions of a disordered world composed, and the glory of Zion filling all the earth.
Lend me an angel's harp, while I look forward to approaching
scenes, which, distant as they then were, enraptured the souls of the
holy prophets. How divinely did they sing, when, from the mount
of vision, they beheld across the shade of many troublous years the
Church standing on the field she had won, triumphantly shouting,
" Lo, this is our God; we have waited for Him, we will be glad and
rejoice in His salvation I" Sometimes in the midst of their sorrows,
while nothing was escaping them but the sounds of a breaking
heart, a glimpse of this glory would break upon their view; and
then the tear which stood in their eye forgot to fall, their halfuttered sigh died upon their tongue, they awoke to rapture, and exclaimed," Thou shalt arise and have mercy on Zion, for the time to
favor her, yea the set time is come."
The Church has hitherto possessed but a small proportion




480               EDWARD D. GRIFFIN.
of a world created for its use; but the day is drawing on, when
"the everlasting Gospel shall be preached to every kindred, and
tongue, and people;" when " from the rising of the sun, unto the
going down of the same, the name of the Lord shall be great among
the Gentiles;" when "all shall know Him from the least to the
greatest, for the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory
of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. And the ransomed of the
Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy
upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow
and sighing shall flee away. Their sun shall no more go down, nor
their moon withdraw itself, for the Lord shall be their everlasting
light, and the days of their mourning shall be ended." A thousand
times ten thousand captives shall drop their chains, and come forth
to light, with joys too big for utterance; and this miserable world,
once the emblem of hell; this miserable world, after being so long
shaken with tempests, shall, like the waters of a peaceful pool, reflect the image of heaven. Paradise shall be restored; and then
shall appear, to the confusion of all the enemies of Christ, the
blessed efficacy of His Gospel to heal the wounds of a bleeding
world. This is the triumph of the woman's seed; this, the bruising
of the serpent's head. Is not every Christian rapt as he thus
views from Pisgah the promised rest on earth? Is enthusiasm here
a crime?  Would not coldness be rebellion?  Come, Thou desire
of nations, come! Come, Thou restorer of a world!
Lo, a still more transporting sight appears! My ravished eye
beholds the kingdom of Christ advanced to the glories of the
heavenly state. Faith looks through the vail which conceals
the eternal world, and discerns thousands of millions of happy
beings, ransomed from destruction and brought home to their
Father's house; it beholds the Church encircling the throne of her
Redeemer, casting her honors at His feet, buried in the ocean of His
glory, united to the Father by ineffable relation, while all heaven is
ringing with hosannas for redeeming love: "there, there is the
august kingdom completed which God at first undertook to erect!"
Say now-pronounce-is not the object worthy of all the means
employed for its attainment?  Do you hesitate? Look, and think
again I Follow only one human soul into eternity; trace its endless
course through delights which flesh and blood could not sustain, or
through fire sufficient to melt down all the planets; pursue it
through the ascending degrees of its eternal progression; see it
leaving behind the former dimensions of seraphim and cherubim,
and still stretching toward God, or sinking forever in the bottomless




rtE KINGDOM  OF CHRIST.                 481
abyss. My God I what an event is the redemption of a single soul I
O the infinite mercy that redeemed such countless millions! 0 the
boundless compassion of Christ-the ocean without a bottom or a
shore! "0  the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowl.
edge of God," which are disclosed in this unfathomable plan of
grace!
Where are infatuated infidels now? Bring up hither all their
bands to behold the glorious Agent, and the glorious interest, who;lh
they oppose! Julian, Celsus, and Porphyry, what now think you
of Christ! Voltaire, Hume, Gibbon, and Bolingbroke-where ar.
now those tongues which blasphemed the anointed Messiah? Let
our subject burst like ten thousand thunders upon those, who, in
rejecting the Mediator, resist all the designs of God-who would
destroy the only interest of the universe —who are fatally contending with all the energies of Omnipotence I
Oh that I had a voice to reach the hearts Af Impenitent sinner-'
of every class I Knew ye the infinite glories of our Messiah, tlhe
darling of heaven, the wonder of angels, the august Agent of thA
universe; knew ye your ruin and necessities; knew ye the tende -
ness of Him who wept because you would sin —who, to save - our
wretrhed souls, sweat drops of blood, and expired on the ragge3d
irjns; you would not thus idly pass by His reeking cross, you wouJ-'
not thus refuse Him reverence, and coldly cast away the benefit:'
His dying love t
in applying this subject I would summon, were I ahlU, ai! -'z
xl&ngdoms of the earth to arise in one mass to urge forward the coce:-;. the Redeemer. Assemble, ye people, from the four quarters ot
tlse gobe! Awake, ye nations, from your sleeping pillow-combEi:;T::, this grand object of your existence-this common interest of tlh
worldI Ye kindreds and tribes, why are ye searching for happJ.
dess out of this kingdom, and overlooking the cause of Christ, as
thollgh He had no right to hold an interest on earth?  Know yc
that no man is licensed to set up another interest on this grouna
which is sacred to the Redeemer. What have you to do in tnls
world if you will not serve the Lord's Anointed? If you will not
submit to His dominion, and join to advance His cause, go, go to
soirme:ther world-this world was made for Christ! But whither
can you go from His presence? All worlds are under His domin-.on. AhI then return, and let your bosoms swell with the noble
desire to be fellow-workers with the inhabitants of other worlds in
Fcrving this glorious kingdom.
My brethren, my brethren I while all the agents in the univele
31




482               EDWARD D. GRIFi.N.
are employed, some with fervent desire, and others by involuntary
instrumentality, to advance the cause of Christ, will an individual
of you refuse it your cordial support? Can you, in the center
of universal action, consent to remain in a torpid state, absorbed in
private cares, and contracted into a littleness for which you were not
designed? Awake, and generously expand your desires to encircle
this benevolent and holy kingdom I God, who has set you an example of exclusive regard to this object, demands it of you. Christ,
who purchased the Church with His blood, demands it of you.
The holy angels, who incessantly minister to the Church, demand it
of you. The illustrious army of patriarchs, prophets, apostles, and
martyrs, by their services and sufferings for the Church, demand it
of you. How, then, can you meet the eyes of this awful company of
spectators, who watch you from every window of heaven, unless you
rouse every sleeping faculty, and with your collected powers, join to
advance the kingdom of the Redeemer?
My brethren, there is much for you to do. Though the world
was made for Christ, though all the nations of it are intended to
swell His triumph, yet at this very moment, five parts out of six of
that race for whom He shed His sacred blood, are perishing in ignorance of His Gospel, chained in miserable and degrading servitude
to Satan. Many of them are also suffering all the hardships of a
barbarous state, without domestic or civil order, wallowing in the
sinks of vice, and besmearing the altars of devils with human blood.
Touched with affection for Him who pitied us that we might pity
others-for Him who, " though He was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through His poverty might be rich;" can we forbear to cherish the pious wish that He may enjoy the reward of His
dying love? Do not our hearts throb with desire to be instrumental
u giving Him " the heathen for His inheritance, and the uttermost
parts of the earth for His possession?"
Distinguished will be the glory of that generation who shall be
selected to bear a conspicuous part in this blessed work. If those
who are now alive on the earth decline this honor, it will certainly
be seized by a more generous and holy posterity. To the present
generation, however, it seems fairly tendered by the existing indications of Divine providence. Great events appear to be struggling
in their birth. In the eager attitude of hope, many are looking for
the dawn of a better day, and even believe that they already see
the light purpling the east. The Christian world, after long contenting itself with prayers for the heathen, and with saying, " Be ye
warmed and filled," is awaking to more charitable views. Men,




THE KINGDOM  OF CHRIST.                  483
warmed with apostolic zeal, have abandoned the comforts of civilized life, and are gone to the ends of the earth, to bear to benighted
nations the first tidings of a precious Saviour. Numerous societies
have risen into existence on both sides of the Atlantic, under whose
patronage missionaries are now employed from India to the American wilderness, from Greenland to the southern ocean. Some of the
first fruits of their labors, I hope, are already gathered into'he
heavenly garner.
While our brethren are thus summoning us from the four quarters of the earth to " come up to the help of the Lord," let us not
incur the curse of Meroz; let us quickly put our hands to the work
lest it be done without us. " If we altogether hold our peace at this
time, then shall there enlargement arise from another place; but we
and our father's house may be destroyed." But why should I thus
speak? You, my brethren, have already felt the heavenly impulse;
you have given to the Lord; and the affecting accounts of your missionaries show that you have received, thus early, the blessing of
some who were ready to perish.
Let us still pursue the glorious design, and rise above every objection which a cold, calculating spirit may cast in our way. We
are bound to persevere by the express command to "go forth into
all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature." We are
bound by mercies which we ourselves have received. Had not benevolent men devoted their property and lives to bring the Gospel
to our fathers, we might, this evening, have been assembled, not in
this temple of God, but to sacrifice our children on the altar of devils. Methinks I hear those generous spirits crying from the verge
of heaven, " Freely ye have received, freely give."
Let me never fall into the hands of the man who, while He
refuses to aid the missionary efforts of his brethren, coolly says that
he submits the fate of the heathen to God. Do you call this submission? Put it to the test; does it preserve you equally composed
by the bed of your dying child? While the pressure of private
afflictions can torture your soul, call not the apathy with which you
view nations sinking into hopeless ruin —call it not submission, nor
bring the government of God to sanction a temper as cruel as it is
common I Will the government of God convert the heathen without the means of grace? What nation was ever so converted? It is
contrary to the established method of Divine grace. "How shall
they believe in Him of whom they have not heard? And how shall
they hear without a preacher?"
No, my brethren, missionaries must go among them, and they




484                EDWARD  D. GRIFFIN.
must be supported. They can not support themselves; they can not
derive support from the heathen; nor can they expect to be " fed
by ravens."  Who then shall sustain the expense, if not the Christian world? and what portion of the Christian world rather than the
American churches? and what district of these churches rather than
that in which we are assembled? and what individuals rather than
ourselves? Heaven has given us the means; we are living in pros
perity on the very lands from which the wretched pagans have been
ejected; from the recesses of whose wilderness a moving cry is heard,
When it is well with you, think of poor Indians. This is not
ideal; we have received such messages written with their tears.
No, we will not shift this honorable burden upon others. We
would sooner contend for it as a privilege. But we need not contend; it is ample enough to satisfy the desires of all. The expense
of Christianizing only the savages on our borders will be great; but
to extend effectual aid to all the benighted tribes on the American
continent, to the numerous islands, to the vast regions of Asia and
Africa, would demand the resources of Christendom. Every man is
under bonds to God to bear his full proportion of this expense. For
whom but for the Redeemer was your wealth created? Thus saith
the Lord, "Your silver and your gold are mine." The flocks of
Kedar and the gold of Sheba were created to bring tribute to His
Church. Should we sordidly close our hands against Him, He can,
with infinite ease, extort a hundredfold, by sending a blast into our
fields, a disease into our families, or a fire into our dwellings.
It is a maxim that admits of general application, " Whosoever
will save his life, shall lose it; but whosoever will lose his life for
Christ's sake, the same shall save it." " The liberal soul shall be
made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered also himself." " He
that hath pity upon the poor lendeth to the Lord, and that which
he hath given will He pay him again." By one shower of rain, by
one restraint upon the winds that would sink your ship, by one
breeze sent to fan from your door the pestilental vapor, He can repay you. And He can bestow the blessings of eternity on you and
your children. The best security for remuneration is offered.. He
tenders you His blessing to reward your charity. And now are you
Christians? The trial is to be made. The everlasting fates of men
turn upon the existence of a temper to prefer the blessing of God to
mammon. " To the merciful He will show Himself merciful; but
whose stoppeth his ears at the cry of the poor, he also shall cry himself, but shall not be heard."
" I have nothing to spare," is the plea of sordid reluctance. But




THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST.                  485
a far different sentiment will be formed amid the scenes of the last
day. Men now persuade themselves that they have nothing to spare
till they can support a certain style of luxury, and have provided
for the establishment of children. But in the awful hour when you,
and I, and all the pagan nations, shall be called from our graves to
stand before the bar of Christ, what comparison will these objects
bear to the salvation of a single soul I Eternal mercy I let not the
blood of heathen millions, in that hour, be found in our skirts I!
Standing, as I now do, in sight of a dissolving universe, beholding the dead arise, the world in flames, the heavens fleeing away, all
nations convulsed with terror, or rapt in the vision of the Lamb-I
pronounce the conversion of a single pagan of more value than all
the wealth that ever Omnipotence produced! On such an awful subject it becomes me to speak with caution; but I solemnly aver, that
were there but one heathen in the world, and he in the remotest
corner of Asia, if no greater duty confined us at home, it would be
worth the pains for all the people in America to embark together to
carry the Gospel to him. Place your soul in His soul's stead I Or
rather, consent for a moment to change condition with the savages
on our borders. Were you posting on to the judgment of the great
day, in the darkness and pollution of pagan idolatry, and were they
living in wealth in this very district of the Church, how hard would
it seem for your neighbors to neglect your misery! When you
should open your eyes in the eternal world, and discover the ruin
in which they had suffered you to remain, how would you reproach
them that they did not even sell their possessions, if no other means
were sufficient, to send the Gospel to you. My flesh trembles at the
prospect! But they shall not reproach us. It shall be known in
heaven that we could pity our brethren. We will send them all the
relief in our power, and will enjoy the luxury of reflecting what
happiness we may entail on generations yet unborn, if we can only
effect the conversion of a single tribe.
All that remains for me to add is a fervent prayer, that He who
is viewing from heaven the events of this evening may incline your
hearts to the noblest charity, and may reward it with everlasting
blessings on you and your children. Amen.




DISCOURSE SEVENTY.FOURTH.
JOHN M. MASON, D.D.
THIS distinguished divine and pulpit orator, was born in the city of
New York, in 1770; where he also graduated at Columbia College, in
1789. Having studied theology with his father, he completed his studies
in Europe. Returning to America, he succeeded his father in the pastorate of the Cedar street Church, in 1792. In 1812 he became pastor of a new
Church in Murray-street. He had also accepted the appointment of provost in Columbia College; which office he filled until compelled to visit
Europe, in 1816, on account of ill health. On his return, in 1817, he resumed preaching; but in 1821 took charge of Dickinson College, Penn.,
having already suffered from two paralytic attacks. From this cause it
was impossible to perform arduous labor; and in 1824 he returned to
New York, where he lingered the rest of his days. He died in December, 1829.
Dr. Mason wrote extensively for essays and reviews, and published,
during his lifetime, several orations and sermons. His works have been
collated and published in four volumes, 8vo.
The mind of Dr. Mason was of the most vigorous order, his theology
Calvinistic, and his piety and zeal worthy of imitation. He was eminent as a pulpit orator, his eloquence being powerful and irresistible
It is said that when Robert Hall heard him preach, in 1802, he exclaimed, "I can never preach again!" The two discourses of this great
preacher which are most celebrated, are his "Messiah's Throne," and
his " Gospel for the Poor"-which is given below. Dr. Mason evidently
gave preference to the latter, by its frequent repetition. We are informed, on good authority, that during a Southern tour for his health,
having committed to memory this sermon, he preached it every where
he went, and with the most marked effect. Dr. Spring, in his "Power
of the Pulpit," thus describes the scene of the delivery of this discourse
in New Haven, in the year 1808. "The sun had just risen, when torrents of men were seen pouring to the house of God. There were ministers of the Gospel, both the aged and the young. Learned Professors,
reflecting Judges of the law, and Lawyers in their pride, were there.




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                    487
There were Senators and men of learning from every part of the land.
There sat the venerable Dwight, and the not less venerable Backus,
melted into aflood of tears. That vast auditory, which seemed at first
only to listen with interest, and then gaze with admiration, with few exceptions, covered their faces and wept."'
THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.
"To the poor the Gospel is preached? —LuKE, vii. 22.
The Old Testament closes with a remarkable prediction concerning Messiah and His forerunner. "Behold, I will send you Elijah
the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the
Lord: and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children,
and the heart of the children to their fathers, lest I come and smite
the earth with a curse." Accordingly, at the appointed time, came
John the Baptist, " in the spirit and power of Elias," saying,'" Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." In his great work
of " preparing the way of the Lord," he challenged sin without respect of persons. The attempt was hazardous; but, feeling the majesty of his character, he was not to be moved by considerations
which divert or intimidate the ordinary man. Name, sect, station,
were alike to him. Not even the imperial purple, when it harbored
a crime, afforded protection from his rebuke. His fidelity in this
point cost him his life. For having " reproved Herod, for Herodias,
his brother Philip's wife, and for all the evils which Herod had
done," he was thrown into prison, and at length sacrificed to the
most implacable of all resentments, the resentment of an abandoned
woman.
It was in the interval between his arrest and execution, that he
sent to Jesus the message on which my text is grounded. As his
office gave him no security against the workings of unbelief in the
hour of temptation, it is not strange, if in a dungeon and in chains,
his mind was invaded by an occasional doubt. The question by two
of His disciples, " Art Thou He that should come, or do we look for
another?" has all the air of an inquiry for personal satisfaction; and
so his Lord's reply seems to treat it. "Go your way, and tell John
what things ye have seen and. heard; how that the blind see, the
lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised,
to the poor the Gospel is preached." The answer is clear and con



488                  JOHN  M. MASON
vincing. It enumerates the very signs by which the Church was to
know her God, " for whom she had waited;" and they were enough
to remove the suspicions, and confirm the soul, of His servant John.
Admitting that Jesus Christ actually wrought the works here
ascribed to Him, every sober man will conclude with Nicodemus,
"We know that Thou art a teacher from God; for no man can do
these miracles that Thou doest, except God be with him." It is not,
however, my intention to dwell on the miraculous evidence of Chris.
tianity. The article which I select as exhibiting it in a plain but in.
teresting view, is, " the preaching of Gospel to the poor."
In Scriptural language, "the poor," who are most exposed to
suffering and least able to encounter it, represent all who are destitute of good necessary to their perfection and happiness; especially
those who feel their want, and are disconsolate; especially those who
are anxiously "waiting for the consolation of Israel."  Thus in
Psalms, "I am poor and needy, yet the Lord thinketh upon me."
Thus in Isaiah, " When the poor and needy seek water and there is
none, and their tongue faileth for thirst; I, the Lord will hear them;
I, the God of Israel, will not forsake them."  Thus also, " The Lord
hath annointed me to preach good tidings to the meek;" the same
word with that rendered "poor;" and so it is translated by Luke,' To preach the Gospel to the poor;" which is connected, both in
the prophet and evangelist, with " healing the broken-hearted." Our
Lord, therefore, refers John, as He did the Jews in the synagogue at
Nazareth, to this very prediction as fulfilled in Himself  So that
His own definition of His own religion is, "a system of consolation
for the wretched."  This is so far from excluding the "literal poor,"
that the success of the Gospel with them is the pledge of its success
with all others: for they not only form the majority of the human
race, but they also bear the chief burden of its calamities. Moreover, as the sources of pleasure and pain are substantially the same
in all men; and as affliction, by suspending the influence of their
artificial distinctions, reduces them to the level of their common
nature; whatever, by appealing to the principles of that nature, promotes the happiness of the multitude, must equally promote the
happiness of the residue; and whatever consoles the one, must, in
like circumstances, console the other also. As we can not, therefore,
maintain the suitableness of the Gospel to the literal poor, who are
the mass of mankind, without maintaining its prerogative of com.
forting the afflicted; nor, on the contrary, its prerogative of com.
forting, separately from its suitableness to the mass of mankind, I
shall consider these two ideas as involving each other.




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                   489
With this explanation, the first thing which demands your notice,
is the fact itself-" Gospel preached to the poor."
From the remotest antiquity there have been, in all civilized
nations, men who devoted themselves to the increase of knowledge
and happiness. Their speculations were subtile, their arguings acute,
and many of their maxims respectable. But to whom were their
instructions addressed? To casual visitors, to selected friends, to
admiring pupils, to privileged orders! In some countries, and oa
certain occasions, when vanity was to be gratified by the acquisition
of fame, their appearances were more public. For example, one
read a poem, another a history, and a third a play, before the crowd
assembled at the Olympic games. To be crowned there, was, in the
proudest period of Greece, the summit of glory and ambition. But
what did this, what did the mysteries of pagan worship, or what the
lectures of pagan philosophy, avail the people? Sunk in ignorance, in poverty, in crime, they lay neglected. Age succeeded age,
and school to school; a thousand sects and systems rose. flourished,
and fell; but the degradation of the multitude remained. Not a
beam of light found its way into their darkness, nor a drop of consolation into their cup. Indeed a plan of raising them to the dig.
nity of rational enjoyment, and fortifying them against the disasters
of life, was not to be expected: for as nothing can exceed the contempt in which they were held by the professors of wisdom; so any
human device, however captivating in theory, would have been
worthless in fact. The most sagacious heathen could imagine no
better means of improving them than the precepts of his philosophy.
Now, supposing it to be ever so salutary, its benefits must have been
confined to a very few; the notion that the bulk of mankind may
become philosophers, being altogether extravagant. They ever
have been, and, in the nature of things, ever must be, unlearned.
Besides, the groveling superstition and brutal manners of the
heathen, presented insuperable obstacles. Had the plan of their
cultivation been even suggested, especially if it comprehended the
more abject of the species, it would have been universally derided,
and would have merited derision, no less than the dreams of modern
folly about the perfectibility of man.
Under this incapacity of instructing the poor, how would the
pagan sage have acquitted himself as their comforter? His dogmas, during prosperity and health, might humor his fancy, might
flatter his pride, or dupe his understanding; but against the hour
of grief or dissolution he had no solace for himself, and could have
none for oth'ers. I am not to be persuaded, in contradiction tc




490                  JOHN M. MASON.
every principle of my animal and rational being, that pain, and mis
fortune, and death, are no evils; and are beneath a wise man's re.
gard. And could I work myself up into so absurd a conviction,
how would it promote my comfort? Comfort is essentially consistent with nature and truth. By perverting my judgment, by hardening my heart, by chilling my nobler warmth, and stifling my best
affections, I may grow stupid; but shall be far enough from consolation. Convert me into a beast, and I shall be without remorse;
into a block, and I shall feel no pain. But this was not my request.
I asked you for consolation, and you destroy my ability to receive it.
I asked you to bear me over death, in the fellowship of immortals,
and you begin by transforming me into a monster I! Here are no
glad tidings: nothing to cheer the gloom of outward or inward poverty. And the pagan teacher could give me no better. From him,
therefore, the miserable, even of his own country, and class, and
kindred, had nothing to hope. But to "lift the needy from the
dunghill," and wipe away the tears from the mourner; to lighten the
burdens of the heart; to heal its maladies, repair its losses, and enlarge its enjoyments; and that under every form of penury and sor.
row, in all nations, and ages, and circumstances; as it is a scheme
too vast for the human faculties, so, had it been committed to merely
human execution, it could not have proceeded a single step, and
would have been remembered only as a frantic reverie.
Yet all this hath Christianity undertaken. Her voice is, without
distinction, to people of every color, and clime, and condition: to
the continent and the isles; to the man of the city, the man of the
field, and the man of the woods; to the Moor, the Hindoo, and the
Hottentot; to the sick and desperate; to the beggar, the convict, and
the slave. She impairs no faculty, interdicts no affection, infringes
no relation; but, taking men as they are, with all their depravity
and woes, she proffers them peace and blessedness. Her boasting is
not vain. The course of experiment has lasted thrluigh more than
fifty generations of men. It is passing every hour bbrore our eyes;
and, for reasons to be afterward assigned, has never failed, in a single instance, when it has been fairly tried.
The design is stupendous; and the least success induces us to inquire, by whom it was projected and carried into effect. And what
is our astonishment, when we learn, that it was by men of obscure
birth, mean education, and feeble resource; by men from a nation
hated for their religion, and proverbial for their moroseness; by car
penters, and tax-gatherers, and fishermen of Judea! What shall we
say of this phenomenon? A recurrence to the Jewish Scriptures,




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                   491
which had long predicted it, either surrenders the argument, or increases the difficulty. If you admit that they reveal futurity, you
recognize the finger of God, and the controversy is at an end. If
you call them mere conjectures, you are still to account for their correspondence with the event, and to explain how great a system of
benevolence, unheard, unthought of by learned antiquity, came to
be cherished, to be transmitted for centuries from father to son, and
at length attempted among the Jews! And you are also contradicted by the fact, that however clearly such a system is marked
out in their Scriptures, they were so far from adopting it, that they
entirely mistook it; rejected it, nationally, with disdain; persecuted
unto death those who embarked in it; and have not embraced it to
this day! Yet in the midst of this bigoted and obstinate people,
sprang up the deliverance of the human race. " Salvation is of the
Jews." Within half a century after the resurrection of Christ, His
disciples had penetrated to the extremes of the Roman empire, and
had carried the " day-spring from on high" to innumerable tribes
who were " sitting in the region and shadow of death." And so exclusively Christian is this plan, so remote from the sphere of common effort, that after it has been proposed and executed, men revert
perpetually to to their wonted littleness and carelessness. The
whole face of Christendom is overspread with proofs, that, in proportion as they depart from the simplicity of the Gospel, they forget the
multitude as before, and the doctrines of consolation expire. In so
far, too, as they adapt, to their own notions of propriety, the general
idea, which they have borrowed from the Gospel, of meliorating the
condition of their species, they have produced, and are every day
producing, effects the very reverse of their professions. Discontent,
and confusion, and crimes, they propagate in abundance. They
have smitten the earth with curses, and deluged it with blood. But
the instance is yet to be discovered, in which they have " bound up
the broken-hearted." The fact, therefore, that Christianity is, in the
broadest sense of the terms, " glad tidings to the poor," is perfectly
original. It stands without rival or comparison. It has no foundation in the principles of human enterprise; and could never have
existed without the inspiration of that " Father of lights, from whom
cometh down every good and every perfect gift."
II. As the Christian fact is original, so the reasons of its efficacy are peculiar. Christianity can afford consolation, because it
is fitted to our nature and character. I specify particulars:
First. The Gospel proceeds upon the principle of immortality.
That our bodies shaL die is indisputable. But that rchuctance of




492                  JOHN M  MASON.
nature, that panting after life, that horror of annihilation, of which
no man can completely divest himse f, connect the death of the body
with deep solicitude. While neither these, nor any other merely
rational considerations, ascertain the certainty of future being, much
less of future bliss. The feeble light which glimmered around this
point among the heathen, flowed not from investigation, but tradiion. It was to be seen chiefly among the vulgar, who inherited the
tales of their fathers; and among the poets, who prefered popular
fable to philosophic speculation. Reason would have pursued her
discovery; but the pagans knew not how to apply the notion of
immortality, even when they had it. It governed not their precepts;
it established not their hope. When they attempted to discuss the
grounds of it, " they became vain in their imaginations, and their
foolish heart was darkened." The best arguments of Socrates are
unworthy of a child, who has " learned the holy Scriptures."  And
it is remarkable enough, that the doctrine of immortality is as perfectly detached and as barren of moral effect, in the hands of modern infidels, as it was in the hands of the ancient pagans. They
have been so unable to assign it a convenient place in their system;
they have found it to be so much at variance with their habits, and
so troublesome in their warfare with the Scriptures, that the more
resolute of the sect have discarded it altogether. With the soberer
part of them it is no better than an opinion; but it never was,
and never will be, a source of true consolation, in any system or
any bosom, but the system of Christianity and the bosom of the
Christian. Life and immortality, about which some have guessed,
for which all have sighed, but of which none could trace the relations or prove the existence, are not merely hinted, they " are
brought to light by the Gospel." This is the parting point with
very other religion; and yet the very point upon which our happiness hangs. That we shall survive the body, and pass from its dissolution to the bar of God, and from the bar of God to endless retribution, are truths of infinite moment and of pure revelation. They
demonstrate the incapacity of temporal things to content the soul.
They explain why grandeur, and pleasure, and fame leave the heart
sad. He who pretends to be my comforter without consulting my
immortality overlooks my essential want. The Gospel supplies it.
Immortality is the basis of her fabric. She resolves the importance
of man into its true reason-the value of his soul. She sees under
every human form, however ragged or abused, a spirit unalterable
by external change, unassailable by death, and endued with stupen.
dous faculties of knowledge and action, of enjoyment and suffering;




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                   493
a spirit, at the same time, depraved and guilty; and therefore liable
to irreparable ruin. These are Christian views. They elevate us to
a height at which the puny theories of the world stand and gaze.
They stamp new interest on all my relations and all my acts. They
hold up before me objects vast as my wishes, terrible as my fears,
and permanent as my being. They bind me to eternity.
Secondly. Having thus unfolded the general doctrine of immor
tality, the Gospel advances further, informing us that although a
future life is sure, future blessedness is by no means a matter of
course. This receives instant confirmation from a review of our character as sinners.
None but an atheist, or, which is the same thing, a madman, will
deny the existence of moral obligation, and the sanction of moral
law. In other words, that it is our duty to obey God, and that He
has annexed penalties to disobedience. As little can it be denied
that we have actually disobeyed Him. Guilt has taken up its abode
in the conscience, and indicates, by signs not to be misunderstood,
both its presence and power. To call this superstition betrays only
that vanity which thinks to confute a doctrine by giving it an ill
name. Depravity and its consequences meet us, at every moment,
in a thousand shapes; nor is there an individual breathing who has
escaped its taint. Therefore our relations to our Creator as innocent
creatures have ceased; and are succeeded by the relation of rebels
against His government. In no other light can He contemplate us,
because His "judgment is according to truth." A conviction of
this begets alarm and wretchedness. And, whatever some may pretend, a guilty conscience is the secret worm which preys upon the
vitals of human peace; the invisible spell which turns the draught
of pleasure into wormwood and gall. To laugh at it as an imaginary
evil is the mark of a fool; for what can be more rational than to
tremble at the displeasure of an almighty God? If, then, I ask how
I am to be delivered? or whether deliverance is possible? human
reason is dumb; or if she open her lips, it is only to tease me with
conjectures, which evince that she knows nothing of the matter.
Here the Christian verity interferes; showing me, on the one hand,
that my alarm is well founded; that my demerit and danger are far
beyond even my own suspicions; that God, with whom I have to
do, "will by no means clear the.guilty;" but, on the other hand,
revealing the provision of His infinite wisdom and grace, for relieving me from guilt. "God so loved the world that He gave His
only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not per.
ish, but have everlasting life." The more I ponder this method of




494                  JOHN  M. MASON.
salvation, the more I am convinced that it displays the divine per.
fection and exalts the divine government; so that "'t became Him,
for whom are all things, and by whom are all things, in bringing
many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of their salvation perfect
through sufferings." Now I know where to obtain the first requisite to happiness, pardon of sin. In Christ Jesus, the Lord, is that
justifying righteousness, the want of which, though I was ignorant
of the cause, kept me miserable till this hour. I cling to it, and am
safe.  His precious blood "purges my conscience."  It "extends
peace to me as a river, and the glory of redemption like a flowing
stream." My worst fears are dispelled; " the wrath to come" is not
for me; I can look with composure at futurity, and feel joy springing up with the thought that I am immortal.
Thirdly. In addition to deliverance from wrath, Christianity pro.
vides relief against the "plague of the heart."
It will not be contested, that disorder reigns among the passions
of men. The very attempts to rectify it are a sufficient concession;
and their ill success shows their authors to have been physicians of
no value. That particular ebullitions of passion have been repressed, and particular habits of vice overcome, without Christian
aid, is admitted. But if any one shall conclude that these are examples of victory of the principle of depravity, he will greatly err.
For, not to insist that the experience of the world is against him,
we have complete evidence that all reformations, not evangelical, are
merely an exchange of lusts; or rather, the elevation of one evil
appetite by the depression of another; the strength of depravity
continuing the same; its form only varied. Nor can it be otherwise. Untaught of God, the most comprehensive genius is unable
either to trace the original of corruption, or to check its force. It
has its fountain where he least and last believes it to be; but where
the Omniscient eye has searched it out; in the human heart; the
heart, filled with enmity against God-the heart, "deceitful above
all things and desperately wicked."  But, the discovery being
made, his measures, you hope, will take surer effect. Quite the
contrary. It now defies his power, as it formerly did his wisdom.
How have disciples of the moral school studied and toiled I how
have they resolved, and vowed, and fasted, watched and prayed,
traveling through the whole circuit of devout austerities! and set
down at last, " wearied in the greatness of their way!" But no
marvel! the "Ethiopian can not change his skin, nor the leopard
his spots." Neither can impurity purify itself. Here  again, light
from the footsteps of the Christian truth breaks in upon the dark.




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                     490
ness; and Gospel again flows from her tongue; the Gospel of a
new heart —the Gospel of regenerating and sanctifying grace; as
the promise, the gift, the work of God. " I will sprinkle clean water
upon you, and you shall be clean; from all your filthiness, and from
all your idols will I cleanse you; a new heart also will I give you,
and a new spirit will I put within you; and I will take away the
stony heart out of your flesh; and I will give you a heart of flesh;
and I will put My spirit within you, and cause you to walk in My
statutes, and ye shall keep My judgments and do them." Here all
our difficulties are resolved at once. The spirit of life in Christ
Jesus, quickens "the dead in trespasses and sins. The Lord, our
strength, works in us all the good pleasure of His goodness, and the
work of faith with power." That which was impossible with men,
is not so with Him; for "with Him all things are possible; even
the subduing of our iniquities;" creating us anew, after His own
image, "in knowledge, righteousness, and true holiness;" turning
our polluted souls into His own " habitation through the Spirit;" and
making us "meet for the inheritance of the saints in light."  Verily
this is Gospel; worthy to go in company with remission of sin..A~nd shall I conquer at last?  Shall I, indeed, be delivered from the
bondage and the torment of corruption? A new sensation passes
through my breast. " I lift up mine eyes to the hills from whence
cometh my help;" and with the hope of "perfecting holiness in the
fear of God," hail my immortality.
Fourthly. Having thus removed our guilt, and cleansed our
affections, the Gospel proceeds to put us in possession of adequate
enjoyment. An irresistible law of our being impels us to seek happiness. Nor will a million of frustrated hopes deter from new experiments; because despair is infinitely more excruciating than the
fear of fresh disappointment. But an impulse, always vehement and
never successful, multiplies the materials and inlets of pain. This
assertion carries with it its own proof; and the principle it assumes
is verified by the history of our species. In every place, and at all
times, ingenuity has been racked to meet the ravenous desires. Occupation, wealth, dignity, science, amusement, all have been tried;
are all tried at this hour; and all in vain. The heart still repines:
the unappeased cry is, Give, give. There is a fatal error somewhere;
and the Gospel detects it. Fallen away from God, we have substituted the creature in His place. This is the grand mistake: the
fraud which sin has committed upon our nature. The Gospel reveals God as the satisfying good, and brings it within our reach.
It proclaims him reconciled in Christ Jesus, as our father, our friend,




496                  JOHN. M. MASON.
our portion. It introduces us into His presence with liberty to asl
in the Intercessor's name, and asking, to "receive, that our joy
may be full." It keeps us under His eye; surrounds us with His
arm; feeds us upon "living bread" which He " gives from heaven:"
seals us up to an eternal inheritance; and even engages to reclaim
our dead bodies from the grave, and fashion them in beauty, which
shall vie with heaven  It is enough I My prayers and desires can
go no further: I have got to the "fountain of living waters-Return to thy rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with
thee I"
This Gospel of immortality, in righteousness, purity, and bliss,
would be inestimable, were it even obscure, and not to be comprehended without painful scrutiny. But I observe again,
Fifihly. That, unlike the systems of men, and contrary to their
anticipations, the Gospel is as simple as it is glorious. Its primary
doctrines, though capable of exercising the most disciplined talent,
are adapted to the common understanding. Were they dark and
abstruse, they might gratify a speculative mind, but would be lost
upon the multitude, and be unprofitable to all, as doctrines of consolation. The mass of mankind never can be profound reasoners.
To omit other difficulties, they have not leisure. Instruction, to do
them good, must be interesting, solemn, repeated, and plain. This
is the benign office of the Gospel. Her principle topics are few;
they are constantly recurring in various connections; they come
home to every man's condition; they have an interpreter in his
bosom; they are enforced by motives which honesty can hardly
mistake, and conscience will rarely dispute. Unlettered men, who
love their Bible, seldom quarrel about the prominent articles of
faith and duty; and as seldom do they appear among the proselytes
of that meager refinement which arrogates the title of Philosophical
Christianity.
From this simiplicity, moreover, the Gospel derives advantages in
consolation. Grief, whether in the learned or illiterate, is always
simple. A man, bowed down under calamity, has no relish for investigation. His powers relax; he leans upon his comforter; his
support must be without toil, or his spirit faints. Conformably to
these reflections, we see, on the one hand, that the unlearned compose the bulk of Christians, the life of whose souls is the substantial
doctrines of the cross-and on the other that in the time of affliction
even the careless lend their ear to the voice of revelation. Precious
at all times to believers, it is doubly precious in the hour of trial.
These things prove, not only that the Gospel, when understood, gives




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                   497
a peculiar relief in trouble, but that it is readily apprehended, being
most acceptable, when we are the least inclined to critical research.
Sixthly. The Gospel, so admirable for its simplicity, has also the
recommendation of truth. The wretch who dreams of transport, feels
a new sting in his wretchedness, when he opens his eyes and the delusion is fled. No real misery can be removed, nor any real benefit
conferred, by doctrines which want the seal of certainty. And were
the Gospel of Jesus a human invention, or were it checked by any
rational suspicion that it may turn out to be a fable, it might retain
its brilliancy, its sublimity, and even a portion of its interest, but the
charm of its consolation would be gone. Nay, it would add gall to
bitterness by fostering a hope which the next hour might laugh to
scorn. But we may dismiss our anxiety, for there is no hazard of
such an issue. Not only " grace," but " truth" came by Jesus Christ,
"The gracious words which proceeded out of His mouth" were
words of the "Amen, the faithful and true Witness;" and those
which He has written in His blessed book, are " pure words, as silver tried in the furnace, purified seven times." His promises can no
man deny to be " exceeding great;" yet they derive their value to us
from assurances which, by satisfying the hardest conditions of evidence, render doubt not only inexcusable, but even criminal. "By
two immutable things in which it was impossible for God to lie, we
have a strong consolation who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon
the hope set before us." Now, therefore, the promises of the Gospel
which are "exceeding great," are also "precious."  We need not
scruple to trust ourselves for this life and the life to come, upon that
Word which shall stand when "heaven and earth shall pass away."
Oh, it is this which makes Christianity glad tidings to the depressed
and perishing! No fear of disappointment! No hope that shall
" make ashamed!" Under the feet of evangelical faith is a covenant
promise, and that promise is everlasting Rock. " I know," said one,
whose testimony is corroborated by millions in both worlds, " I know
whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that He is able to keep
that which I have committed unto Him against that day.
Lastly. The Gospel, as a system of consolation is perfected by the
authority and energy which accompany it. The devices of man
originate in his fancy, and expire with his breath. Destitute of
power, they play around depravity like shadows round the mountain
top, and vanish without leaving an impression. Their effect would
be inconsiderable could he manifest them to be true; because he can
not compel the admission of truth itself into the human mind. Indifference, unreasonableness, prejudice, petulance, oppose to it an
32




498                  JOHN  M. MASON.
almost incredible resistance. We see this in the affairs of every day,
and especially in the stronger conflicts of opinion and passion Now,
besides the opposition which moral truth has always to encounter,
there is a particular reason why the truth of the Gospel, though most
salutary, though attested by every thing within us and around us,
by life and death, by earth, and heaven and hell, will not succeed
unless backed by Divine energy. It is this. Sin has perverted the
understanding of man, and poisoned his heart. It persuaded him
first to throw away his blessedness, and then to hate it. The reign
of this hatred, which the Scriptures call ".enmity against God," is
most absolute in every unrenewed man. It teaches him never to
yield a point unfriendly to one corruption, without stipulating for an
equivalent in favor of another. Now as the Gospel flatters none of
his corruptions in any shape, it meets with deadly hostility from all
his corruptions in every shape. It is to no purpose that you press
upon him the " great salvation," that you demonstrate his errors and
their corrective, his diseases and their cure. Demonstrate you may,
but you convert him not. He will occasionally startle and listen,
but it is only to relapse into his wonted supineness, and you shall as
soon call up the dead from their dust, as awaken him to a sense of
his danger, and prevail with him to embrace the salvation of God.
" Where then," you will demand, " is the pre-eminence of your Gospel?" I answer, with the Apostle Paul, that " it is the power of God
to salvation." When a sinner is to be converted, that is, when a
slave is to be liberated from his chains, and a rebel from execution,
that same voice which has spoken in the Scriptures, speaks by them
to his heart, and commands an audience. He finds the word of God
to be "'; quick and powerful, and sharper than a' two-edged sword."
It sets him before the bar of Justice, strips him of his self-import.
ance, "sweeps away his refuge of lies!" and shows him that death
which is "the wages of sin." It then conducts him, all trembling,
to the Divine forgiveness, reveals Christ Jesus in his soul as his right.
eousness, his peace, his hope of glory. Amazing transition  Bui
is not the cause equal to the effect?  "iHath not the potter powe]
over the clay?" Shall God draw, and the lame not run? Shall Goc
speak, and the deaf not hear? Shall God breathe, and the slain no
live? Shall God "lift up the light of His countenance" upon sinner
reconciled in His dear Son, and they not be happy? Glory to Hii
name! These are no fictions. "We speak that we do know, an
testify that we have seen. The record, written not with ink, bu
with the Spirit of the living God' not in tables of stone, but in flesh,
tables of the heart," is possessed by thousands who have "turne(




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                     499
from the power of Satan unto God," and will certify that the revolution
was accomplished by His word. And if it perform such prodigies on
corruption and death, what shall it not perform in directing, establishing, and consoling them who have already obtained a " good hope
through grace?" He who thunders in the curse speaks peace in the
promise, and none can conceive its influence but they who have wit.
nessed it. For proofs you must not go to the statesman, the traveler,
or the historian. You must not go to the gay profession, or the
splendid ceremonial. You must go the chamber of unostentatious
piety. You must go to the family anecdote, to the Christian tradition, to the observation of faithful ministers. Of the last there are
many who, with literal truth, might address you as follows: " I have
seen this Gospel hush into a calm the tempest raised in the bosom
by conscious guilt. I have seen it melt down the most obdurate into
tenderness and contrition. I have seen it cheer up the broken-hearted, and bring the tear of gladness into eyes swollen with grief. I
have seen it produce and maintain serenity under evils which drive
the worldling mad. I have seen it reconcile the sufferer to his cross,
and send the song of praise from lips quivering with agony. I have
seen it enable the most affectionate relatives to part in death, not
without emotion, but without repining, and with a cordial surrender
of all that they held most dear, to the disposal of their heavenly
Father. I have seen the fading eye brighten at the promise of Jesus.'Where I am, there shall my servant be also.' I have seen the faithful spirit released from its clay, now mildly, now triumphantly, to
enter into the joy of its Lord."
Who, among the children of men, that doubts this representation, would not wish it to be correct? Who, that thinks it only
probable, will not welcome the doctrine on which it is founded, as
worthy of all acceptation? And who that knows it to be true, will
not set his seal to that doctrine as being, most emphatically, " Gospel preached to the poor?"
In applying to practical purposes, the account which has now
teen given of the Christian religion, I remark,
1. That it fixes a criterion of Christian ministrations.
If He, who " spake as never man spake," has declared His own
doctrine to abound with consolation to the miserable, then, certainly,
the instructions of others are evangelical, only in proportion as they
3ubserve the same gracious end. A contradiction, not unfrequent
unong some advocates of revelation, is to urge against the infidel
ts power of comfort, and yet to avoid, in their own discourses, al..
nost e-'sry principle from which that power is drawn. Disregard



500                  JOHN M. MASON.
ing the mass of mankind, to whom the Gospel is peculiarly fitted,
and omitting those truths which might revive the grieved spirit, or
touch the slumbering conscience, they discuss their moral topics in a
manner unintelligible to the illiterate, uninteresting to the mourner,
and without alarm to the profane. This is not "preaching Christ."
Elegant dissertations upon virtue and vice, upon the evidences of
revelation, or any other general subject, may entertain the pros.
perous and the gay; but they will not "mortify our members which
are upon the earth;" they will not unsting calamity, nor feed the
heart with an imperishable hope. When I go to the house of God,
I do not want amusement. I want " the doctrine which is accord.
ing to godliness." I want to hear of the remedy against the harassings of my guilt, and the disorder of my affections. I want to. be
led from weariness and disappointment, to that " goodness which
filleth the hungry soul." I want to have light upon the mystery of
providence; to be taught how the "judgments of the Lord are
right;" how I shall be prepared for duty and for trial-how I may
"pass the time of my sojourning here in fear," and close it in peace.
Tell me of that Lord Jesus, "who His own self bore our sins in His
own body on the tree."  Tell me of His "intercession for the transgressors' as their " advocate with the Father." Tell me of His Holy
Spirit, whom "they that believe on Him  receive," to be their pre.
server, sanctifier, comforter. Tell me of His chastenings; their necessity, and their use. Tell me of His presence, and sympathy, and
love. Tell me of the virtues, as growing out of His cross, and nurtured by His grace. Tell me of the glory reflected on His name by
the obedience of faith. Tell me of vanquished death, of the purified
grave, of a blessed resurrection, of the life everlasting-and my bosom warms. This is Gospel; these are glad tidings to me as a suf.
ferer, because glad to me as a sinner. They rectify my mistakes
allay my resentments; rebuke my discontent; support me,rnder th(
weight of moral and natural evil. These attract the poor; stea
upon the thoughtless; awe the irreverent; and throw over the serv
ice of the sanctuary a majesty, which some fashionable modes of
address never fail to dissipate.  Where they are habitually neg
lected, or lightly referred to, there may be much grandeur, bu
there is no Gospel; and those preachers have infinite reason tx
tremble, who though admired by the great, and caressed by the vain
are deserted by the poor, the sorrowful, and such as " walk humbl:
with their God."
2. We should learn from the Gospel, lessons of active benevo
lence.




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                   501
The Lord Jesus, who " went about doing good, has left us an example that we should follow His steps."  Christians, on whom Hel
has bestowed affluence, rank, or talent, should be the last to disdain
their fellow-men, or to look with indifference on indigence and grief.
Pride, unseemly in all, is detestable in them, who confess that "by
grace they are saved."  Their Lord and Redeemer, who humbleds
Himself by assuming their nature, came to "' deliver the needy, when
he crieth, the poor also, and him that hath no helper." And surely
an object, which was not unworthy of the Son of God, can not be
unworthy of any who are called by His name. Their wealth and
opportunities, their talents and time, are not their own, nor to be
used according to their own pleasure; but to be consecrated by their
vocation " as fellow-workers with God."  How many hands that
hang down would be lifted up; how many feeble knees confirmed;
how many tears wiped away; how many victims of despondency and
infamy rescued by a close imitation of Jesus Christ. Go, with your
opulence to the house of famine, and the retreats of disease. Go,
" deal thy bread to the hungry; when thou seest the naked, cover
him; and hide not thyself from thine own flesh." Go, and furnish
means to rear the offspring of the poor; that they may at least have
access to the word of your God. Go, and quicken the flight of the
ingel, who has " the everlasting Gospel to preach" unto the nations.
[f you possess not wealth, employ your station in promoting " goodcvill toward men. Judge the fatherless; plead for the widow."
stimulate the exertions of others, who may supply what is lacking
)n your part. Let the " beauties of holiness" pour their luster upon
four distinctions, and recommend to the unhappy that peace, which
rourselves have found in the salvation of God. If you have neither'iches nor rank, devote your talents.  Ravishing are the accents,
vhich dwell on the "tongue of the learned," when it "speaks a
vord in season to him that is weary." Press your genius and your
loquence into the service of the "Lord your righteousness," to
aagnify His word, and display the riches of His grace. Who knowth, whether He may honor you to be the minister of joy to the disonsolate, of liberty to the captive, of life to the dead? If He has
Lenied you wealth, and rank, and talent, consecrate your ieart.
let it dissolve in sympathy. There is nothing to hinder your'" reoicing with them that do rejoice, and your weeping with them that
reep;" nor to forbid the interchange of kind and soothing offices.
A brother is born for adversity;" and not only should Christian
e to Christian " a friend that sticketh closer than a brother,:' but
e should exemplify the loveliness of his religion to " them that are




502                 JOHN M. MASON.
without." An action, a word, marked by the sweetness of the Gop.
pel, has often been owned of God for producing the happiest effects
Let no man, therefore, try to excuse his inaction; for no man is too
inconsiderable to augment the triumphs of the Gospel, by assisting
in the consolation which it yields to the miserable.
3. Let all classes of the unhappy repair to the Christian truth,
and " draw water with joy out of its wells of salvation 1I" Assume
your own characters, O ye children of men; present your grievances, and accept the consolation which the Gospel tenders. Come,
now, ye tribes of pleasure, who have exhausted your strength in
pursuing phantoms that retire at your approach I The voice of the
Son of God in the Gospel is, Wherefore " spend ye your money for
that whicih is not bread, and your labor for that which satisfieth not;
hearken diligently unto Me, and eat ye that which is good, and let
your soul delight itself in fatness!" Come, ye tribes of ambition,
who burn for the applause of your fellow-worms. The voice of the
Son of God to you is, " The friendship of this world is enmity with
God;" but "if any serve Me, him will My Father honor."  Come,
ye avaricious, who " pant after the dust of the earth on the head of
the poor." The voice of the Son of God is, Wisdom is " more precious than rubies; and all the things thou canst desire are not to be
compared unto her"-but "what shall it profit a man if he shall
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" Come, ye profane!
The voice of the Son of God is, " Hearken unto Me, ye stout-hearted,
that are far from righteousness; behold, I bring near My righteousness." Come, ye formal and self-sufficient, who say "that ye are
rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and
know not that you are wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind,
and naked." The voice of the Son of God is, "I counsel you to
buy of Me gold tried in the fire that ye may be rich; and white
raiment that ye may be clothed; and that the shame of your nakedness do not appear; and anoint your eyes with eye-salve, that ye
may see." Come, ye, who, being convinced of sin, fear lest the
" fierce anger of the Lord fall upon you." The voice of the Son
of God is, "Him that cometh unto Me I will in no wise cast out"
" I, even I, am He that blotteth out thy transgressions for Mine own
sake, and will not remember thv sins." Come, ye disconsolate,
whose souls are sad, because the Comforter is away. The voice of
the Son of God is, The Lord " hath sent Me to appoint unto them
that mourn in Zion, beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning,
and the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." Come, ye
tempted, vrho are borne down with the violence of the " law in your




THE GOSPEL FOR THE POOR.                503
members, and of assaults from the evil one. The voice of the Son
of God is, "I will be merciful to your unrighteousness; and the
God of peace shall bruise Satan under your feet shortly." Come,
ye children of domestic woe, upon whom the Lord has made a breach,
by taking away your counselors and support. The voice of the Son
of God is, "Leave thy fatherless children with lMe; I will preserve
them alive; and let thy widows trust in Me." Come, ye from whom
mysterious providence has swept away the acquisitions of long and
reputable industry. The voice of the Son of God is, "My son, if
thou wilt receive My words, thou shalt have " a treasure in the heavens that faileth not;" and mayest "take joyfully the spoiling of thy
goods, knowing that thou hast in heaven a better and an enduring
substance."  Come, ye poor, who without property to lose, are grappling with distress, and exposed to want. The Son of God, though
the heir of all things, "had not where to lay His head;" and His
voice to His poor is, " Be content with such things as ye have, for I
will never leave thee nor forsake thee; thy bread shall be given
thee, and thy water shall be sure." Come, ye reproached, who find
" cruel mockings" a most bitter persecution. The voice of the Son
of God is, "If ye be reproached for the name of Christ, happy are
ye, for the Spirit of God and of glory resteth upon you. Come, in
fine, ye dejected, whom the fear of death holds in bondage. The
voice of the Son of God is, " I will ransom them from the power of
the grave; I will redeem them. 0 death, I will be thy plagues I
0 grave, I will be thy destruction I! repentance shall be hid from
Mine eye;" blessed Jesus I thy loving-kindness shall "be My joy in
the house of My pilgrimage;" and I will praise thee "while I have
any being," for that Gospel which thou hast preached to the poor I




DISCOURSE SEVENTYFIFTHI
WVILLIAM STAUGHTON, D.D.
DR. STAUGHTON was born in England, at Coventry, in Warwickshire,
in the year 1770-the same year in which Drs. Griffin and Mason were
born. At the early age of twelve years he discovered remarkable
talents, and composed several poems, which were published and admired.
At the age of seventeen he wrote a book called " Juvenile Poems." His
literary studies were pursued at Bristol; and in that place he began occasionally to preach, and drew together large assemblies. He came to
this country in 1793, at the request of his brethren in England, upon a
call from Dr. Furman, of South Carolina, for a young man of promise to
take charge of the Baptist church in Georgetown in that State. His
first ministerial connection, of about seventeen months, was with the
above-named church. Thence he removed to New York; but, falling
sick with the yellow fever, and being otherwise afflicted, he chose a
residence in New Jersey, and settled first with the church at Bordentown, and then with that at Burlington. While residing at the latter
place, such was his reputation for brilliancy of talent, that Princeton
College conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity, though
then only twenty-eight years of age. In 1806 he removed to Philadelphia-the scene of his greatest labors and success-and assumed the
charge of the first Baptist church. There his ministry was blessed with
the outpouring of the Spirit, and during this pastorate, of five years,
he received about three hundred by baptism. In 1811 he became
pastor of the Sansom-street church, formed that year, and upon the
erection of their spacious house of worship, it was crowded with an ad.
miring audience. In 1817 Dr. Staughton was chosen President of Columbian College, Georgetown, D. C.; which office he filled for more than
ten years. Upon the formation of the literary and Theological Institution in that city, he accepted the appointment to its presidency; but,
setting out for that place from Philadelphia, he was taken sick upon the
way, and died in Washington, Dec. 12, 1829.
Dr. Staughton possessed a mind of remarkable vigor and activity,
and a heart filll of zeal and noble purposes for the cause of the Redeemer. Few men ever enjoyed a wider popularity, and more heartily
consecrated it to the best of objects. He excelled as an educator, and is




GOD DWELLING  AMONG MEN.                     505
said to have been almost unrivaled in pulpit eloquence. It is to be regretted that so few of his thrilling utterances-generally unwrittenhave been preserved. We have met with only three of his printed pro.
ductions; one, an address delivered at the opening of Columbian College, and two sermons; that here given being superior to the other. It
was delivered at the dedication of the house of worship of the Hightstov-n Baptist church, N. J., Nov. 26, 1803. A few passages, chiefly of
a local interest, are omitted. The discourse is worthy of the preacher's
reputation; abounding as it does in bold and striking conceptions, expressed with the various essentials of true Christian eloquence.
GOD DWELLING AMONG MEN.
"But will God indeed dwell on the earth?"-1 KINGS, viii. 27.
It is the duty of reasonable creatures to worship the everlasting
God. His majesty claims our adoration, and His mercy our gratitude. Nature herself, feeble as is her capacity for discovering and
leading men along the paths of moral duty, has, nevertheless, in all
ages, pointed the barbarian to the Supreme Power, from whom all
good is derived, and on the guidance of whose providence all revolutions depend.  "Pass over the earth," said Plutarch, "you may
discover cities without walls, without literature, without monarchs,
without palaces or wealth, where the theater and the school are not
known; but no man ever saw a city without temples and gods,
where prayers, and oaths, and oracles, and sacrifices were not used
for obtaining good or averting evil."
This duty is more clearly taught, and enforced with still stronger
motives, in the volume of Revelation. Almost every page instructs
us to worship the Lord our God, and to serve Him only. We have
examples rising in succession for our imitation. The mode of worship may vary, but the devotional principle must be the same.
As the necessities we feel and the blessings we enjoy, for the
most part, respect us not merely as individuals, but as members of a
large community, with solitary worship man is not to satisfy him.
self. The blasting and the mildew, the sword and the pestilence,
the locust and the famine, are not private calamities. National victory over unjust opposition, peace in all our borders, fruitful showers
and golden harvests, are not private blessings.  Thousands feel the
pang or divide the transport. Hence we find that men have not
separately each one prepared a victim for himself; they have agreed




506              WILLIAM STAUGHTON.
in bands to surround a common altar, and to join in mourning and
supplication, or in hymns of thanksgiving and praise. Sometimes
a family composed a company of worshipers, and sometimes a city;
but in the history of the Israelites we behold a whole nation uniting
in holy solemnities. Though, on their leaving Egypt, the people
were more than a million in number, they had but one tabernacle,
one ark, one mercy-seat, one altar for burnt-offering, and one high
priest.
The tabernacle first used among the Hebrews appears to have been
reared in haste by Moses. Perhaps it was nothing more than one
of his own tents. It came to pass, nevertheless, that " every one
who sought the Lord went out" to this tent, probably for the space
of a year. Hence Moses fitly called it " the tabernacle of the congregation."
Afterward the larger tabernacle, the workmanship of Bezaleel
and Aholiab, was set up. To this the tribes repaired, not only while
sojourners in the desert, but after their settlement in the land
of promise.
At length King David conceived the design of building a house
for the Lord. He had already testified his love for the worship of
Jehovah, by having a new tabernacle raised near his own palace, for
the reception of the ark on its removal from the house of Obed.
edom. But this was not sufficient. " See now," said the king to
Nathan, " I dwell in an house of cedar, but the ark of God dwelleth
in curtains." "Go,'" said the prophet, 1" and do all that is in thy
heart." The king was on the point of proceeding to the pleasing
task, when he learned that though the Lord approved his purpose,
the work should be reserved for Solomon, his son. Soon after the
pious monarch had fallen asleep with his fathers, the young prince
"built the house and finished it."
" Then Solomon assembled the elders of Israel and all the heads
of the tribes," that they might bring the ark from Zion to the temple. The men of Israel gathered themselves together in crowds to
join the solemnity. When the priests began to remove the ark, the
tabernacle and afl the holy vessels, King Solomon and all the congregation led on the procession, sacrificing, as they went, " sheep
and oxen that could not be told or numbered for multitude."
As soon as the ark was brought into the oracle of the house,
a dark cloud filled all the place. The people were struck with
horror, and the terrified priests could not stand to minister. Then
spake Solomon, relieving their apprehensions and commencing his
prayer: " The Lord said He would dwell in thick darkness." The




GOD DWELLING AMONG MEN.                  507
king recounted with solemn reverence the promises that Goda had
made and fulfilled for his father David and for himself; but, as he
prayed, his devotions were suddenly checked, or rather, sublimely
elevated by an overpowering sense of the Divine Majesty. " But
will God indeed dwell on the earth? Behold, the heaven and the
heaven of heavens can not contain Thee; how much less this house
that I have builded!"
You, brethren, have been raising this house and setting it in
order. To-day we open it by beginning to offer up the incense of
prayer before the throne. To day, for the first time, from this pulpit
salvation through the blood of the Lamb is proclaimed-the doors
have begun to be crowded with worshipers, and the walls to
ring with hymns of thanksgiving. O that to-day, in this place,
sinners may be converted to God and saints receive consolation
and establishment. Great God of assemblies! bend thy heavens
and come down;- here make the horn of David to bud, and ordain
a lamp for thine anointed 1-" But will God indeed dwell on the
earth?"
We adopt for ourselves the exclamation of Solomon. Every
word is full of meaning. We scarce know where to rest our
emphasis. Will God dwell on the earth! It would create our
wonder if a cherub were to display his burning glories among us, but
this were nothing; it were nothing if all the cherubim that wheel
round the throne of light, were to come from the skies, compared
with the descent of the eternal God. For God to dwell in heaven
does not so much excite our astonishment. It is true in a certain
sense the angels are chargeable with folly, and the heavens are unclean in His sight; there are, however, there, none dwelling in
houses of clay, no "filthy and abominable" beings who drink
"iniquity like water." But that He should dwell on the earth,
seems almost beyond belief. Will He indeed dwell, or shall it be
only in a sense improper and figurative! Will he indeed dwell, or
is the mercy too great to be expected! Divine condescensions often
fill the hearts of good men with holy astonishment. Thus the compassion.and sovereignty of Christ in manifesting Himself to His disciples and not to the world, appeared marvelous.'Lord, how is it?
When Israel was delivered from captivity, when a risen Saviour was
announced to His disciples, they were like men that dream, they believed not for joy.
The devout surprise which our text expresses, leaves it implied,
that it would be no ground of wonder if God would not make His
abode with us. This idea will receive confirmation on our cortem.




508              WILLIAM STAUGHTON.
plating the immensity, the loftiness, the independence, the holiness, and
the sovereignty of God.
Solomon at the dedication seems particularly to have been struck
with a sense of the Divine immensity. Behold, the heavens and the
heaven of heavens can not contain Thee, how much less this house
that I have builded I God had promised to make the temple His
Iwelling-place; but here was the wonder, that He who fills the universe (and who for this reason is by the Jews called Makom or
space) should choose a frail building as His rest forever. The
martyr Stephen exhibits this idea, in his excellent defense, in a strong
point of view. " Solomon built Him a house. Howbeit the Most
High dwelleth not in temples made with hands; as saith the
prophet, heaven is My throne and earth is My footstool: what house
will ye build Me, saith the Lord: or what is the place of My rest?
Hath not My hand made all these things?" Solomon felt a pleasure,
perhaps a pride, that so magnificient a temple was completed; but
how little does the whole appear to him when standing in the
presence of Jehovah! What was the house he had built, when all
the heavens are but a throne for God, and all the earth merely a
footstool! Having done all, we are still uprofitable servants.
It is wonderful that God should dwell with man, because of His
Ioftiness. From the smallest particle of animated matter up to the
first archangel in glory, there appears, through all the order of beings a gradation. But the Lord is above all, He is the High God;
or, as He is often called, the Most High, exalted above all blessing
and praise. Will infinite elevation dwell with abject worms? the
inhabitant of eternity with the creatures of yesterday? Many a philosopher of both ancient and modern classes has declared He will
not, and many a sinner has caught the sentiment, and used it for his
own destruction, " The Lord shall not see, neither shall the God of
Jacob regard it."
When we meditate on the independence of Jehovah, it must appear wonderful that He will make His abode with us. Our happi
ness is connected with society, and, together with our being, is hourly
dependent on God. He is happy alone and from Himself. He possessed infinite blessedness before the worlds were framed, and should
earth and seas, should suns and stars, should mortals and seraphim
be struck out of existence, He would remain the" blessed God."
The vicissitudes of creation no more affect His happiness, than a
passing cloud below disturbs the course of the great sun through the
heavens. He is not to be worshiped with men's hands, as though
" He needed any thing."  "Is it any pleasure to the Almighty that




GOD DWELLING AMONG MEN.                    509
thou art righteous, or is it gain to Him that thou makest thy way
perfect? Thy wickedness may hurt a man as thou art, and thy
righteousness may profit the son of man, but can man be profitable
to God?" The guilt of impious men can no more shake the Divine
throne, than the purity of saints can establish it. He possesses none
of those motives to seek society, arising from want, interest, and gratification, which operate with us. He inhabits His own eternity I
That God should dwell on the earth appears the more surprising
when we contemplate His holiness. In this perfection He is greatly
glorious. He is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity without abhorrence. Into heaven, the habitation of His holiness, there shall in
no wise enter any thing that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh
abomination, or maketh a lie. One of the solemn anthems of heaven
is holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty. But what are we,
what the whole human race? Conceived, alas, in sin, and shapen
in iniquity, we have gone astray firom the womb. David drew the
likeness of man in his day; Paul, struck with its correctness, again
exhibited it; and a momentary comparison of features will convince
us that it resembles man in the present age, as much as it could have
done in ages past. Jews and Gentiles are " all under sin: as it is writ.
ten, There is none righteous, no, not one: there is none that under.
standeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone
out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none
that doeth good, no, not one. Their throat is an open sepulcher;
with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under
their lips: whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness: their feet
are swift to shed blood: destruction and misery are in their ways;
and the way of peace have they not known: there is no fear of God
before their eyes."
Review these sad outlines. They teach us that the powers ofC
the mind are depraved; there is none that understandeth, the path
of duty is abandoned; they are all gone out of the way, the excellences of Jehovah have no attractions, there is none that seeketh
after God; the members of the body are instruments of unrighteousness; the insatiate desires of the drunkard and the glutton testify
that their throat is an open sepulcher; the perjured person and the
liar are with their tongues using deceit, and the poison of asps is
under the lips of the flatterer and the slanderer. What multitudes
are there among all ranks of society who are using language at which
a demon might shudder. With how little emotion is damnation in.
voked on their eyes and their limbs, their bodies and their souls.
The mouth of many seems so full of cursing, that they can scarcely




510              WILLIAM  STAUGHTON.
speak ct the most trivial occurrences without an oath incorporated
with every sentence. The feet of men, in all ages have been swift
to shed blood. The first child that was born into the world was a
murderer; and almost every page of history, when it does not lead
us into the ensanguined field, consists of inferences from battles
fought, or preludes to some new catastrophe. Thousands are destroyers of men by professions and so swift, so prompt to shed blood
are heroes and nations, that circumstances the most insignificant are
commonly laid hold of, and amplified into grounds of dissension and
slaughter. Whatever difference may subsist among men as to the
degree of their iniquity, there is none righteous, no, not one. And
will God indeed dwell uvpon the earth?  It were reasonable to conclude He will not, or that if He should, having whet His glittering
sword, His hand would take hold on judgment and render recompense.
But, further, reflect, brethren, a moment on the Divine sovereignty.
The moral law is binding alike on angels and men. Many of the
former class of beings, and, as we have just shown, all of the latter, have violated its precepts. It is a righteous thing with God to
render tribulation and anguish to the transgressor. Having uttered
the threatening, either on the sinner, or on a substitute, the penalty
must descend, or the Divine faithfulness must fail. The angels
which kept not their first estate He hath reserved in everlasting chains
under darkness, unto the judgment of the great day. Since, like
them we have sinned, what reason can we assign why, with them,
we should not suffer? It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not
consumed at the present hour. If it be right that God attach a penalty to His law, it can not be wrong that He exact it. His character
as Gove~nor of the universe demands the measure, and who can say
whether His wisdom will contrive, His arm accomplish, or His sovereignty accept a plan for the deliverance of His rebellious creatures.
Great, however, as are the difficulties which arise in the mind
when we associate the ideas of God's immensity and our locality; His
loftiness and our meanness; His independence and our subjection;
His holiness an I our defilement; His sovereignty and our deserts
be astonished,', earth! break forth into singing, ye mountains-the
Holy Word gives an affirmative answer to the inquiry in the text.
We wish not to derive our illustrations of this truth merely from
the operations of providence. Wher we behold Him walking on
the wings of the wind, or planting His footsteps in the mighty
waters; when He shakes down towers with His earthquakes; when
He utters His voice in thunder, or loads the air with pestilence;




GOD DWELLING AMONG MEN.                    511
when He touches the hills and they smoke, becoming sudden volcanoes, or when we see Him clothing the lilies of the field, and feeding the fowls of the air, we possess proofs that He is not far from
every one of us; but, the condescension to which our text refers, re.
lates immediately to the operations of His grace, such particularly as
are exhibited,
I. In the coming of Christ into the world;
II. In the residence of His Spirit in the heart; and,
III. In the presence of God in His churches.
I. We have ample evidence that God will dwell with man in
the coming of Christ into the world. "The word was made flesh,"
said John, "and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory
as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." We
can not assent to the creed of such as regard our Lord Jesus as a
mere man, or to that of those who consider Him only a created
being, while they admit He is above the highest angels. If Jesus
Christ be not the true God and eternal life, would the Holy Spirit
have inspired the writers of the Bible to have recorded as many and
such pertinent texts, which a plain understanding must accept as
demonstrations of His divinity, and which require all the subtility
of criticism to induce a doubt as to their meaning? We are reduced to the alternative to acknowledge, either that Christ is a divine person, or that the language of Scripture is unguarded and
deceptive; an idea which every good man will reject with abhorrence. God was manifest in the flesh; for Christ is God. His name
is Immanuel, God with us.
Of His dignity and of His presence the heavens gave testimony.
A new star traversed the sky at His incarnation, and at His crucifix.ion for three hours the sun was extinguished. The winds and seas
gave testimony, when at His word the furious blasts were hushed,
and the rough surges smoothed into a great calm; at the same word
the inhabitants of the waters crowded round the ship and filled the
net of the astonished and worshiping disciples. The earth gave tes.
timony: at His death and at His resurrection it trembled to its center. Diseases gave testimony: fevers were rebuked; issues of blood
were stanched; the blind saw their deliverer; the deaf heard His
voice; the dumb published His character; paralytics arose and followed Him, and lepers, at His command, hastened to the priests and
were healed as they traveled. The grave gave testimony, when
Lazaius came forth in the garb of its dominions, and when many of
the bodies of the saints that slept arose. The invisible world gave
testimony: devils acknowledged His divinity, and flew from HLi




512               WILLIAM  STAUGHTON.
presence to the abodes of perdition; angels ministered unto Him in
the desert, the garden, and the tomb. One of them, as if to exhibit an
emblem of the virtues of the Saviour, often descended into Bethesda
and imparted to the waters a healing power. A multitude sang an
anthem in the air in the hearing of the shepherds, and as our risen
Lord ascended up to glory, they accompanied His flight with the
sound of trumpet and the shouts of triumph.
But, Oh! my brethren, how glorious the purposes He came tc
execute. "To finish transgression, to make an end of sin, and to
make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteousness, and to seal up the vision and prophecy, and to anoint the
Most Holy."
II. God is found dwelling on the earth by His Spirit in the heart.
The Holy Spirit, the third person in the mysterious Trinity, is no
less properly God than the Father or the Son. His names, His attributes, and His works prove His divinity. God gave this promise
to the Hebrews, "I will set My tabernacle among you, and I will
walk among you, and will be your God, and ye shall be My people."
The apostle guides our eye to its accomplishment, where he says,
"We are the temple of the living God; as God hath said, I will
dwell in them and walk in them." Paul had conveyed the same idea
in a prior epistle to the Corinthian Church. " Know ye not that ye
are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you;
the temple of God is holy, which temple are ye." The heart of man,
by nature, is a fortress of Satan, a den of thieves, deceitful above all
things, and desperately wicked. In regeneration, when the Holy
Spirit makes His entry, the strong man armed is driven from the seat
he has usurped, and a war commences between corrupt affections and
the holy nature which the new birth produces. Possessed of the
soul, the Spirit proceeds to work in us to will and to do of His own
good pleasure. He teaches us the exceeding sinfulness of sin, and
influences to deep repentance, holy caution and habitual mortification. He teaches us our need of salvation, and then takes of the
things of Christ and shows them to us. The soul is filled with unutterable transport, surprise and gratitude, on finding itself at the
margin of a fountain open for sin and for uncleanness. The same
spirit helps our infirmities, promotes our conformity to Christ, enables
us to cry, Abba, Father, seals us to the day of redemption and becomes Himself the earnest of a heavenly inheritance. The stay of
our Lord Jesus on this earth was short. When a little more than
thirty years were expired, He led out His disciples as far as Bethany
and while blessing them, He was parted from them and carried up




GOD DWELLING AMONG MEN.                   b13
into heaven; but the Comforter is to abide with the saints forever
He shall ascend not before them, but with them to glory.
Think it not strange that God the Spirit should possess a distinct
habitation in the heart of every believer. The same voice, like the
voice of God from Mount Sinai, may distinctly enter a million of
ears. Place before the sun as many mirrors as the earth could fur
nish, an image of the sun would appear in every mirror; but, sup.
posing no illustration could be derived from nature, experience
demonstrates the truth. To this test the apostle refers, where he
says, "' Ye are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if so be, the Spirit of
God dwell in you; now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he
is none of His; and if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of
sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness."
III. We have evidence that God will dwell with men upon the
earth, in the display of hiis gracious presence in His Churches. He
said to Israel, " In all places where I record My name, I will come
unto thee and I will bless thee," and in language very similar our
Lord addressed His disciples: "Where two or three are gathered
together in My name, there am I in the midst of them. I will not
leave you comfortless, I will come unto you."
David declares he has beheld the glory of Jehovah in his tabernacle, and may I not add, so have we. Have we not seen it in
the ministers of the sanctuary, when engaged in solemn prayer?
How like Moses have they ascended the hill of the Lord, in pres.
ence of all the people! What a holy flow of adoration, petitions,
and thanksgivings have we sometimes witnessed? Have we not
seen it in the ministration of the word? With what boldness and
readiness of mind, with what depth of argument and persuasive
energy, with what ardent zeal and heavenly unction, have we often
heard His servants deliver their message! The sound of their Master's feet behind them, while it revives the sense of their awful
responsibility, gives courage to the heart, and inspires that eloquence
in proclaiming the terrors of Sinai and the consolations of Calvary,
which the schools could never have taught. The effects attending
the word bespeak the presence of the Lord. It is God that giveth
the increase.' If there come in one that believeth not, or one unlearned, he is convinced, he is judged, and thus are the secrets of
his heart made manifest, and so falling down on his face, he will
worship God, and report that God is in you of a truth." The cry
of converts when seeking access to the Church and its ordinances
is, We will go with you, for we have heard that God is with you
We have indications of His presence when Asaphs are instructed in
33




514              WILLIAM STAUGHTON.
the rectitude of providence, when Ephraims are mourning over their
backslidings, and when Simeons, having seen the salvation of God,
are longing to depart in peace, from earth to heaven.
God will dwell in His churches —He hath said, "Lo, I am with
you always, even unto the end of the world." The Church, it is true,
is in the wilderness, and a thousand savage beasts of prey stand waiting to devour; but the Lord is a wall of fire around her, through
which they can not pass. Zion is His rest forever. The malice of
earth and hell can no more succeed in destroying the Church,
His dwelling-place below, than in demolishing the heavens, His
dwelling-place above; and for this obvious reason, "The Lord is
there."
There are objects in the natural world whose presence brings bless.
ings with them. Whenever the broad river winds its course, its banks
become fertile and its contiguous cities, seats of commerce. The appearance of the sun cheers the face of nature, and the possession of
a shield is a security to the warrior against the weapons of his adversaries. Under such animating figures, David sets forth the advantages of the Divine presence in His churches. " There is a river, the
streams whereof make glad the city of our God. The Lord God is
a sun and shield, the Lord will give grace and glory, and no good
thing will He withhold from them that walk uprightly." His presence is like that of the good shepherd in the midst of his flock, or
of the affectionate father in the midst of his happy family.
Does it, my brethren, from what you have heard, appear a truth
that God WILL dwell with man upon the earth, permit me to exhort you never to lose sight of this astonishing condescension. Not
less in the stoops of His mercy, than in the sublimities of His nature, does Jehovah shine without a rival. Historians have dwelt
on the resignation of Charles V., the emperor of Germany, as an
event scarcely paralleled in the annals of ages. That a prince whose
ruling passion had been uniformly the love of power, at the age of
fifty-six, when objects of ambition operate with full force on the
mind, who during half a century had alarmed and agitated Europe,
filling every kingdom in it, by turns, with the terror of his arms,
and who was then in possession of all the honors which can flatter
the heart of man, should suddenly abandon his throne, pass into
the shades of an obscure retirement, and there dwell among a few
~servants, was every where a matter of wonder and surprise. But,
compared with the Lord's bowing the heavens, this is less than
nothing.




GOD DWELLING  AMONG MEN.                    5lb
"In vain might lofty princes try
Such condescension to perform;
For worms were never raised so high
Above their meanest fellow worm 1"
Raise, too, your contemplations, this morning, to that state of
perfect blessedness which is before you. In their nature and in
their source, the joys of saints in heaven and saints on earth are the
same, but, in numerous circumstances they widely differ. When
we meet in His sanctuary now, the assembly is mixed. He that
feareth God and he that feareth Him not, sit and hear, and sing
together; but in the mansions above, the people will be all holy.
Here, in their happiest moments, the saints find a sinful nature defiling their purest services; so that, the brighter their discoveries
of the Divine glory, like Isaiah and Job, the more they deplore
their uncleanness and abhor themselves. But then, not the least
taint of moral defilement shall remain; their hearts, as well as their
garments, shall be without spot or wrinkle or any such thing. In
our present worship, we assemble only with afew of God's people.
Though the iron rod of persecution does not scatter us as it did
our forefathers, and limit our devotions to the private parlor or
the prison-house, yet the conveniences of our habitations and the
requirements of animal life, render the congregations of the saints
but little flocks. Eras keep us asunder, we can not walk with
God in company with Enoch; nor join with David in procession to
the tabernacle: we can not unite with the apostles in their prayers
in the upper room in Jerusalem, or accompany the strains of the
martyrs who sung their hosannas as they embraced the stake.
Place divides us from each other. We know that Divine worship is
paid to the Lord by thousands in Europe, and that Asia and Africa
are laying their tribute at His feet; but, long intervening tracts of
land and sea forbid our uniting with their assemblies. Variety of
religious sentiment, too, gives rise to different congregations: for, as
yet we see through a glass darkly, and know only in part, and
prophecy only in part. But in heaven, the assembly shall consist
of multitudes that no man can number. All that have loved the
Saviour shall form one glorious band. There an Abraham and an
Owen, a Watts and a David, a Pearce and a John, a Daniel and a
Henry-there the Hindoo and the American, the European and the
Negro, the Hottentot and the Greenlander-there the Methodist
and Episcopalian, the Presbyterian and the Baptist shall, with hearts
and with voices forever united, sirg, Worthy is the Lamb that u'
slain I




DISCOURSE SEVENTY. SIXTH.
GREGORY T. BEDELL,  D.D.
THIS eloquent Episcopal divine was born on Staten Island, the 28tb
cf October, 1793. He received his early academic education at Cheshire,
in Connecticut, and graduated at Columbia College, New York city.
In 1811 he commenced his preparation for holy orders, under the
direction of Dr. How, one of the assistant ministers of Trinity Church,
N. Y., and was ordained deacon by Bishop Hobart, in November, 1814.
His first pastoral charge was at Hudson, on the North River, where
he settled in 1815, and where his popularity as a preacher was very great.
In 1818 he was instituted as the rector of the Episcopal church in Fayetteville, N. C., at which place his ministry was distinguished for its evangelical character and for its successful results. Three years and a half
from his settlement here, he was compelled to remove, from ill health;
when he visited Philadelphia, and became rector of St. Andrew's church,
which position he filled with eminent success till the time of his death, in
August, 1834. His memoir has been written by the Rev. Dr. Tyng.
As a preacher, Dr. Bedell was highly evangelical, habitually dwelling
upon the great truths of redemption through the Lord Jesus Christ.
He was remarkable for the simplicity of his style and manner, and for
the beauty of his oratory. By those best qualified to judge, he was
pronounced a model of chaste, dignified, impressive elocution. He was
often earnest and solemn, and held such a command over his large
audiences as to cause a breathless silence, and enchain the attention
of even the most careless and indifferent. Comparatively few of Dr.
Bedell's sermons were written out in full. Only some thirty have been
given to the public. That here given is the last of a series on the same
text, and a single allusion to the preceding discourse is left out. The
discourse has several passages of great beauty and force of expression.
THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORK OF RELIGION.
"And I sent messengers unto them, saying, I am doing a great work, so that I can
not come down: why should the work cease, whilst I leave it, and come down to yol r
-NEHEMIAH, Vi 3.
The end of our faith, says the apostle, is the salvation or the
oul. And the end, o- issue of the great work of personal religion,




THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORK OF RELI(;IOI. 517
which is the production of faith, is precisely the same-the everlasting felicity of heaven.
It is the issue of a work which decides its relative importance,
even in all earthly things. That is a work of nobler conception, and
of more splendid achievement, which issues in some grand benefit
to the human family, than that which issues in the establishment of
aun individual's prosperity or honor. Robert Raikes was a greater
man than Alexander or Napoleon; and the Sunday-school system,
which has been reared on the foundation which, in the providence of
God, Raikes was permitted to lay, is a work which far outweighs in
grandeur all the achievements at which Alexander or Napoleon ever
labored. And thus, what they were desirous of accomplishing for
themselves, and have failed in the attempt, he has, under God, accomplished for himself.
I have stated that the issue of the work of religion is the eternal
blessedness of heaven, and this constitutes the greatness of the work.
In the present discourse, my purpose is to show this from the intrinsic nature of the happiness of heaven..And yet, on the very
threshold of this discussion, I am met with a difficulty which it would
seem must, of necessity, embarrass, if not stay, my progress. How
am I to give you any information as to the intrinsic character of the
happiness of heaven? Is not this something beyond the conception
of man? Are we told sufficiently about it in the Scriptures to
authorize speculation?  Is there any thing beyond a glimpse?  I
am aware that the apostle said, "Beloved, now are we the sons
of God; and it doth not yet appear what we shall be; but we know
-that, when He shall appear, we shall be like Him; for we shall see
Him as He is."  And I am aware that God, in His infinite wisdom,
has not let us into the secret of those delights which make up the
eternal felicity of the saints in light, in their inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away. I am aware of all this,
and it gives me a timely admonition to place a rein on my imagination, lest I darken counsel by words without knowledge. There
appears to me no way to discuss the nature of the happiness
of heavenr, but to determine to go no further than the Scripture has
gone; to stretch the raptured vision as far as the horizon which the
revelation of God has established; contentedly to stop where Scrip.
ture stops, and to wait till the time when all else shall be revealed in
the light of eternity itself.
In order that I may be reined in, and curbed, and kept within
bounds, I purpose to place between myself and you, certain great
outlines furnished by the Scriptures. We may probably get some




518               GREGORY T. BEDELL.
idea of the subject from considering heaven in these three striking
aspects; First, as to its society; Secondly, as to its business; and
Thirdly, as to its enjoyments.
I shall probably be compelled to run the last two divisions into
one, because the business of heaven is its happiness; between them
there is, and can be, no correct distinction. Remember that I state
the greatness of the work of religion from the reward into which it
issues, the eternal happiness of heaven. What is the nature of its
happiness? Judge ye.
I. From its society. Who are they? Who are to be the inhabitants of heaven?
I shall be considered, probably, as uttering but a very trite observation, when I say that man is a social being, that society forms
the basis of his earthly happiness. Give a man the presence of the
friends whom he loves, and, humanly speaking, he can be happy
any where and every where. Siberia's snows or Africa's sands are
no insuperable barrier to his enjoyment. But deprive him of society,
and a palace of gold and luxuries untold will but aggravate a
misery which nothing save social enjoyment can prevent. It was a
most impressive idea of a poet, when he attempted to tell the feelings of the last man. He supposes one man left, when all the rest
of human kind and of animal nature had been withered up. The
poignancy of that man's feelings was not that he stood among the
ruins of a world, but that he stood alone. And I can not imagine
of happiness, even in heaven, apart from its society. But here the
question comes back, What constitutes the society of heaven? There
is a possibility of ascertaining this with the clearest demonstration,
Let me set you upon a train of investigation which can not fail to
lead you to an accurate and most infinitely important conclusion.
Hear what our Saviour says, " Except a man be born again he can
not see the kingdom of God."  " God so loved the world that He
gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on Him should
not perish, but have everlasting life." "H e that hath the Son hath
life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life."  "Except
ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter
into the kingdom of heaven."  "I am the resurrection and the life:
he that believeth on Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."
Form the arguments made up in these quotations. Who are ill
heaven? Those who repent, and are converted, and believe the
Gospel; the heart-changed disciples of the crucified yet risen Saviour. Now see if the apostles of the Lord Jesus Christ bear their
testimony to the same thing. " Who are these that are arrayel in




THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORE OF RELIGION. 519
white robes? and whence come they? And I said unto him, Sir,
thou knowest. And he said unto me, These are they which came
out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made
them white in the blood of the Lamb."  "To him that overcometh
will I give to eat of the tree of life, which is in the midst of the
paradise of God."  "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give
thee a crown of life." One portion of the society of heaven, therefore, is formed of what is called the Church triumphant. St. Paul
tells us-" But ye are come to Mount Zion, and unto the city of the
living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and Church of the firstborn, which are written in heaven, and to God the Judge of all,. and
to the spirits of just men made perfect, and to Jesus, the Mediator
of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling, that speaketh
better things than that of Abel."
What a glorious society! Innumerable company of angels,
archangels, cherubim, seraphim! Thousands of thousands ministe.red unto Him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before
I'vr.. This is a part of the society. The spirits of just men made
perfect; believers made perfect; their labors finished; their trials
over; their race run; the goal reached; the prize obtained; the
crown won; the general assembly and Church of the first-born.
What a glorious society! Saints who have served the Lord dur.
ing every successive period of the world, from righteous Abel to the
very last of those who, when the Lord shall come a second time,
shall be caught up to meet Him in the air, and so to be ever with
the Lord. There is a degree of melancholy grandeur in the idea of
a heathen of old, who, amid all the darkness, and ignorance, and
superstition in which he lived, could compose his mind to death in
the supposition that, in the Elysian fields of his mythology, he
should meet with Plato, and with Socrates, and with Homer, and
with Hesiod, and a host of other illustrious worthies, and spend his
eternity with them in a philosophy refined from the grossness of
earth. Miserable comfort! his Elysian fields were fables, not even
cunningly devised. "But we know that if our earthly house of
this tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens;" and in those mansions of eternal glory are to be found the martyred Abel; that patriarch who walked with God, and was translated without tasting
death; that father of the faithful, Abraham, with Isaac and Jacob,
Moses, Joshua, prophets, priests, and kings, apostles, martyrs, and
innumerable servants of the Lord less distinguished; thousands of




520               GREGORY T. BEDELL.
thousands, gathered out of every tribe, and kindred, and people, and
from every age and generation of the world.
It is well that there is an interposing vail to hide the fullness of'
this gloried society from our view; the sight, next to the vision of
the Omnipotent and Eternal, would be too bright to look upon.
And yet this society, this communion of saints, is thrown entirely
into the shade, as we advance further and; further, with the sacred
Scriptures for our guide. Tax your imagination longer. Let me
pass, ye prophets, ye apostles, ye martyrs! A greater than you all is
yet to be discovered I That society is blessed with the peculiar presence of the great God Himself. It is there that His throne is fixed,
" Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with
them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself shall be with
them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from
their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor
crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things
have passed away. And He that sat upon the throne said, Behoia
[ make all things new. And He said unto me, Write: for these
words are true and faithful."  The eye shall behold the King in'i'U
beauty.
But there are circumstances which give a charm to the society ot
heaven, which is true of no other society-it is a united society.
Every member of that society has the same sympathies, the same
tastes, the same views, the same feelings; there are there no elementis
of discord. Love supreme to God is the common link which binds
them all together. When the saints left the earth, they left all its
dross and all its imperfections behind them, and because there is no
sin there, there is nothing to mar the full and perfect felicity of those
who inherit glory. Besides this, it is a society in the ranks of which
there is no separations. Earthly society is made up, like every thing
else which is earthly, of changes and vicissitudes. An almost infinite variety of changes produce, in the society of this world, continual separations. It is not so above. The saints admitted into glory
are there forever. As no discord can interrupt their harmony, so no
death can break in and diminish their numbers. But I may not
Iwell upon this theme so lovely. The work of religion is a great, a
glorious work, because it trains, it disciplines, it educates the soul for
this society, where all is harmony and love among the members, all
is conformity to Him who sitteth on the throne.
I return to the question, What is the nature of the happiness of
heaven? Judge it from its business.
I can not imagine any thing like happiness apart from some kind




THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORK OF RELIGION. 521
e,f business or employment. Idleness on earth is not only crime, but
it is misery; and this is the reason why multitudes who, from a va.
riety of circumstances, have the questionable privilege of being idle,
plunge into vice and dissipation to escape the wretchedness of being
entirely without employment. They have not the energy to do
right, and to be useful to society, and therefore, following the bent
of their dispositions, commit sin, and become the pests of society,
merely to have something to busy themselves about. Upon the
general propositions, that employment is essential to happiness, I
wculd judge that even in heaven there must be, for the immortal
spirit, engagements of the most active description; and yet so different in the very nature of the case, must all these engagements be
from those which occupy our attention here below, that we can form
no adequate conception of them. The contrast must of necessity be
beyond all measurement. Here we are ceaselessly engaged in low
and groveling occupations, some seeking to build their reputation
and happiness upon the basis of some project of enlarged ambition;
some toiling as if the very happiness of time and eternity combined
depended upon it, seeking to heap up riches while they know not
who shall gather or enjoy them; and some wasting their health and
strength, and time, on sensual, transitory, fading, unsatisfying gratifi.
cations. Of all men's earthly pursuits self is the single end.
But the employments of heaven are upon a more enlarged and a
more enlarging plan, suited to the state and capacity of the immortal
soul. I confess to you, my friends, that it is extremely difficult to
treat a subject of this kind, where there is such an infinite dispropor.
tion between the littleness of man's mind, and the grandeur of the theme
on which he would feebly venture to expatiate. God, for purposes
unquestionably wise and benevolent, has never seen fit to let us into
the grand secret of what it is which peculiarly constitutes the bliss
of the eternal world of glory. There are some few scattered intimations, just enough to stimulate and excite the spiritual appetite.
There is an intimation, by no means obscure, that the grand employment of the saints in glory is to do the will of God with a perfection
of obedience springing from the perfection of love. This intimation
is to be found in the prayer of our blessed Master, when He teaches
us to petition that the will of God may be done on earth as it is in
done in heaven. We know that this is the employment of His angels
now, and that which is suitable to the nature of created intelligences
who havt never sinned, can not be inappropriate to the nature of
those whc are raised to participation of their glory.
One thing with certainty we learn from the Scriptures, that much




522              GREGORY T. BEDELL.
of the happiness of heaven will consist in the sacred employ of praise
and thanksgiving. Prayer there will be none, because prayer is the
soul's sincere desire, but there there will be no desire, for every de.
sire shall have been completely satisfied. The beloved apostle of
our Lord, from his prison of Patmos. was permitted to take one raptured glimpse of the employments which characterize and constitute
the happiness of the inhabitants of the New Jerusalem, and it is the
praise of God-" And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof; for Thou was
slain and has redeemed us to God by Thy blood out of every kindred and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto God
kings and priests; and we shall reign on the earth. And I beheld,
and I heard the voice of many angels round about the throne, and
the beasts, and the elders: and the number of them was ten thousand
times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands; saying with a loud
voice, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and
riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glorey, and blessing.
And every creature which is in heaven, and in the earth, and under
the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard
I saying, Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him
that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever and ever."
There is one idea connected with the employments of heaven,
which, to my mind, is full of beauty and consolation; and it is
founded on the nature of man as a social being. I do not desire to
enter into any unauthorized speculations, and would be very cautious in stepping where there is no path evidently pointed out in the
Scripture; and in this whole consideration, my effort has been to
restrain myself, lest I should overstep the boundary which the subject itself ought to impose. So far as my own individual opinion
is concerned, and that opinion is countenanced by some of the best
and wisest of the servants of God, there are other employments in
heaven besides those which are immediately to be resolved into
praise and thanksgiving; employments which are strictly social in
their nature. And under this impression, it appears to me, that connected with the worship of Almighty God, the blessed inhabitants
of the celestial city will be engaged in the intercourse of that communion of saints which will fill up the interval, if any such there
be, between the anthems of the solemn sanctuary. It ought not to
be considered as a matter at all incredible, or in the least degree unreasonable, that the saints should then converse with one another on
those great things which God has done for their souls.
What more raptured employment, and what more ravishing do




THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORK OF RELIGION. 523
light, than that the hosts of the redeemed, as they had been rescued
from the bitter pains of everlasting death, should testify to one another, each perfect in sympathy, how much they were indebted to that
matchless Saviour who humbled Himself and became obedient unto
death for their sakes. What should hinder, that even in the mansions of never-ceasing felicity, they should let the memory rest for
awhile on the grace they had long resisted, the dying love they had
despised, the patience they had abused, the efforts they had scorned.
All this retrospection, instead of producing unhappiness, would but
magnify the grace of God. What should hinder, that, as they walk
the golden streets, or recline under the shadow of the tree that bears
twelve manner of fruits, or lave in the river that makes glad the city
of God, they should tell to one another the marvelous loving-kindness of the Saviour; how He Himself subdued their unbelief, and
by what processes, tender or severe, He let down into their souls the
light of spiritual life? What hinders that they should animate each
other, and stimulate each other in their ceaseless progression in holiness and happiness, by a growing acquaintance with the riches of
the love which redeemed them; how He protected them, and comforted and sanctified them; guarded them from dangerous snares;
kept them from the power of temptation; reclaimed them when
wandering; snatched them from many a peril, and led them in His
hand to glory? Then, kindling as the theme goes on, of what they
were, and are, and still may be, they ever and anon shall cease the
social communications, and render their pure and perfect praises to
Him who is the author of all their happiness I
As I anticipated, I have mingled the enjoyments and the employments of heaven together. They can not be sundered. The
happiness of heaven consists in its employments; all, all centering
upon God, the only object of a supreme and unceasing regard.
There are other emblems used in the Scriptures to express the glory
and happiness of the redeemed, as in the closing chapters of the book
of Revelation; but the language used is so highly figurative, that
the only idea which can be gathered is, that the glory is beyond description, the happiness beyond conception.
The work of religion, truly commenced, and truly carried on,
issues in the happiness which I have feebly attempted to describe.
Tell me a greater work than that whose end is salvation-the happiness of heaven beyond description or conception-the happiness
of heaven without alloy —the happiness of heaven without termination-the immediate society of that God in whose presence there is
fullness of joy, and at whose right hand there are pleasures for ever




524               GREGORY T. BEDELL.
more-ceaseless progression in a knowledge which shall be capabkl
of satisfying the immense desires of an immortal mind; ceaseless
advancement from one state of glory to another, each perfect in its
kind; ceaseless accumulations of happiness, flowing from all the resources of an infinite God I
My friends, when I think of the character of heaven, its society,
its business, its enjoyments, I am at no loss to discover a very decided reason why the great work of personal religion, which issues
in that happiness, is neglected and despised. There is no unconverted man who has the least wish for such a heaven as has been
described; and who will be religious for an issue which is not desirable? I am perfectly willing to admit, my brethren, that there is
even in the unconverted heart, a certain undefined desire after an
unknown happiness beyond the grave, but it is not the kind of happiness which God has provided.
Tell me, ye worldlings, is there any thing in the felicity of heaven
as the Scripture unfolds it to your view, which suits the taste and
habit of your souls? Is there any thing in the society, the business
or the enjoyments of the place which brings itself down to the level
of your earthly desires and your groveling pursuits and pleasures?
How strangely would the man of warlike ambition feel, were he
ushered into a society where perfect peace and love sincere have
their eternal and uninterrupted reign. How strangely would the
man, who seeks the honor which cometh from his fellow, feel in that
place, where it is among the highest glory of the redeemed to cast
their crowns at the feet of Him who made them kings and priests
unto God. How strangely would the man, ambitious of the honors
of intellectual worth and scientific attainments feel, were he to enter
among those whose highest glory is that they know the Lord as they
are known of Him. In heaven, the merchant, who is absorbed in
his business, would find no means of gain; and for the careless child
of pleasure there would be, in heaven, no brilliant assemblies of the
votaries of folly such as he loves, no soul-ruining theaters, no gaudy
decorations of the person to minister to pride and vanity. There is
nothing, absolutely nothing, in the Scripture representation of heavenly felicity, to make it in the least degree desirable to one solitary
soul among you, who is yet in the slavery of the world, led captive
by the devil at his will. Heaven would, indeed, be a sad, and sorrowful, and solitary place for every individual of an earthly taste
and an unchanged heart. And ought I to expect you to engage in
a work of religion for an issue which you can not possibly desire?
What is heaven?  It is essentially the conformity of the mind and




THE SUBLIME ISSUE OF THE WORK OF RELIGION. 525
heart to God! What is the work of religion? The process of that
conformity beginning with a change of heart.
My dear friends, it is a most solemn and serious business to you,
that in your state of unconcern and sin, you have no moral fitness
for the enjoyment of God's glorious presence. Small would be the
consequence of this, if this earth were destined to be the whole thea'
ter of your display. But you are born for immortality. An undying
spirit occupies the tabernacle of clay which is destined to perish, the
food of corruption and the worm. In a very short period, every
eye in this assembly shall be closed in death; the busy must leave
his business, the worldly his pleasure, the gay his gayety, and the
thoughtless his unconcern. I do confess to you, my brethren; that
it fills my soul with melancholy beyond expression, to think that of
those by whom I am now surrounded, the great majority are living
only for time and sense, while they neglect eternity; and that while
doing this, you are standing on the narrow isthmus, which, but for
a moment, divides the two. In a few short years, not an individual
now here, will be seen in these pews. They will be occupied by
another generation. But where will you be, when another generation has taken your places in the house of God? Where will you
be? In the heaven which I have described as the issue of the work
of religion, or in that dreadful hell which awaits the neglecters and
despisers of a Saviour's mercy. This is the record of God! The
time is coming, when the dead shall awake, some to everlasting life,
and some to shame and everlasting contempt.
"Beyond this vale of tears
There is a life above,
Unmeasured by the flight of years;
And all that life is love.
" There is a death, whose pang
Outlasts the fleeting breath;
Oh! what eternal horrors hang
Around the second death i"
To one or the other you are going; and soon, very soon, will the
question be determined. But by the mercies of God; by the dying
love of Jesus Christ; by the worth of your souls; by the untold
happiness of heaven; by the unutterable miseries of hell, I beseech
you leave not the determination of that question till it must be settled in the bitter tears and the unavailing regrets of the world of
eternal woe! Now is the time of your merciful visitation; now is
the time to repent and be converted; to lay hold on Christ, to make




526               GREGORY T. BEDELL.
Him your wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemap.
tion; to work while it is called to-day; to acquire the qualfications
of heaven-a spiritual taste. Then, and only then, can you expect
to see the King in His beauty; enjoy the society of heaven; mingle
in its hallowed employments; tune your hearts and your voices to
its melodies; take your part in its anthems, and become partakers in
its inheritance-incorruptible, undefiled, unfading perfection. 1Th
is the issue of the work of religion I Earth knows none so gieat.




DISCOURSE SEVENTYSEVENTH
STEPHEN OLIN, D.D. LL.D.
THIS distinguished scholar and divine, who has been called the
Chalmers of the Methodist churches, was born in Leicester, Vermont,
on the second day of March, 1797. His father, Judge Olin, was for
some fime Lieutenant-Governor of that State; and secured for his son
the advantages of Middlebury College, where he graduated with the
highest reputation for talent. After this he went to South Carolina to
engage in teaching for a time, where he was converted, and received
into the fellowship of the Methodist Episcopal Church.  From this
time he began to preach as occasion offered, and was soon received by
the South Carolina Annual Conference of 1824, as a Methodist probationary traveling preacher, and stationed at Charleston. It was s:ad,
by one at the time, that never in the memory of the oldest Methodists,
had so powerful a preacher, " burst with so sudden a splendor, and so
tremendous an effect upon the Church." He was received, in 1826, into
full connection as a preacher, and ordained deacon; but his very feeble
health compelled him to locate; and it was not until 1832 that the state
of his health allowed of the duties of traveling preacher, when he was
received into the Georgia Conference. In 1830, Dr. Olin was elected
Professor in the University of Georgia; and three years after, Presi.
dent of Randolph Macon College, Virginia. In 1837, his failing health
led him to set sail for an extensive tour in Europe and Asia, the prosecution of which qualified him to write his well-known " Travels in the
East." Upon his return to America, he was elected President of the
Wesleyan University, in Connecticut, in 1842, over which he presided
for nine years, and until the time of his death, which occurred on the
16th of August, 1851.
Dr. Olin was a man of great piety and humility, and was endowed
with an intellect of the imperial order, at once acute, penetrating, and
profound. As a teacher, he was eminently successful; and in' the abili.
ties of a pulpit orator, he is said to have had few equals. Rev. Dr.
Wightman of South Carolina, observed, of his sermons, that they were
"the grandest exhibitions of intellectual power and gracious unction




528                    STEPHEN  OLIN.
which were ever witnessed in this or any other country."  The working of his mighty intellect, he adds, " reminded one of a steam-engine,
of vast power, set up in a frail frame-work, which trembled with every
stroke of the piston and revolution of the wheels." The "Methodist
Quarterly Review," in an able and appreciative tribute to the worth of
Dr. Olin, thus alludes to his ability as a preacher: "In overmastering
power in the pulpit, we doubt whether living he had a rival, or dying
has left his like among men. His power did not consist in any single
quality —in force of reasoning, or fire of imagination, or heat of declamation-but in all combined. His course of argument was always clear
and strong, yet interfused throughout with a fervent and glowing passion-the two inseparably united in a torrent that overwhelmed all that
listened to him. His was, indeed, the
"'Seraphic intellect and force
To seize and throw the doubts of man;
Impassioned logic which outran
The hearer, in its fiery course."'
The works of Dr. Olin have been published in two Nolumes, made
ap of sermons, and lectures, and addresses. Ittis much to be regretted
that so few of his masterly efforts were reduced to writing. The following discourse is a fair illustration of his preaching. Certain parts
of it will compare favorably with the best specimens of pulpit eloquence
in our language.
FAITH IN CHRIST THE GREAT WANT OF THE SOUL,
"Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God —believe also in Me."-JOHN,
xiv. 1.
The word believe, in the original, has in both instances the same
form, and the sentence might have been rendered, " Believe in God
— believe also in Me," imperatively; or affirmatively in both: " Ye
believe in G-od-ye also believe in Me;" or, as in the English text,
the first affirmatively, " Ye believe in God;" the last imperatively,
" believe also in Me." Whichever form is adopted, the meaning is
so modified by the previous clause, "Let not your heart be troubled,"
as to convey the same idea-the insufficiency of faith in God alone,
and the need of faith in Christ, to dissipate the fears and satisfy the
wants of the soul of man.
Travelers have reported of some inconsiderable barbaroas tribes
that they have no idea of a Supreme Power, the Maker and Ruler




FAI.TH IN CHRIST.                    529
of men and of all things. Such reports are probably incorrect,
or, if true in a few instances, these are exceptions to what may,
with sufficient exactness, be denominated the universal belief in
God.
A great many processes of argumentation have been stated as
fully justifying, and as having probably led to, this unanimous consent of mankind to the great fundamental truth of religion. They
have educed it, it is said, from the relation of cause and effect.
Every object and every fact around us has been produced by some
cause or agent, and that by some other more remote, and so on up to
a first cause, which must needs be the self-existing God. Another
process, less complicated and elaborate, which has therefore been
thought by many to lead to the universal belief in question is this:
I feel myself hemmed in and limited in the use of all my powers of
body and mind. It is the same thing, whether I use my intellect,
my senses, or my limbs. I can proceed a little way, and then I press
against a barrier. I am shut up within the finite, and feel that I am.
Now this sense of the finite, say the metaphysicians, unavoidably
suggests the idea of the infinite. This painful apprehension of the
limited sphere of human capabilities suggests thoughts of the illimitable. My own scanty knowledge and feeble energies throw me
upon the contemplation oi Omniscience and Omnipotence, and thus
necessarily lift me up to the great idea of a God in whom these high
attributes reside. Now all this may be true, and I see no objection
to such statements, considered merely as arguments. It may be,
however, that the human mind reaches the conclusion by some
briefer process, or by no process at all. It may be an instinct of our
nature to believe in the existence of the Author of our being-that
faith in God is a first principle imbosomed in our very nature, and
that unbelief is the real product of speculation. It seems to me that
Atheism, which denies the existence of God, and Pantheism, which
imbues all things and all secondary causes with Divinity, are not
the spontaneous growth of the human mind, but of philosophy,
falsely so called.
This belief in God, however attained, is not adapted to satisfy the
religious wants of man, but rather to fill his bosom with profound
anxieties. The moment this great truth is admitted as something
more than a pure abstraction, it becomes most startling and alarming. The thought of being in the world with the God of the universe, its Creator, absolute in authority, irresistible in power, and
profoundly mysterious in His attributes, purposes, and modes of
dealing with His dependent creatures, is, to every one who lifts up
34




580                  STEPHEN  OLIN.
his soul to the reception and contemplation of it, absolutely terrific
and appalling.
It is "the eternal power and Godhead" of Jehovah that are
chiefly disclosed by the works of creation. These attributes tend
more to produce terror than to impart consolation and awaken confidence and hope. Nations left to the light of nature seek to avert
the anger and enmity of Deity by sacrifices and sufferings, and but
seldom indulge in love and gratitude.
Creation and Providence do not teach us God's benevolence.
The beauties of nature, the enjoyments of life, might be so understood but for contradictory teaching from convulsions, barrenness,
famines, pestilence, poverty, anxieties, disappointments, death. Upon
the whole, our present condition can not be reconciled with the belief in God's benevolence, without reference to a future state, to
which our present mode of existence holds the relation of a probation. And these are doctrines which the light of nature does not
reveal.
Natural arguments for the soul's immortality, though of some
value to enforce and illustrate the doctrine as revealed in Christ, are
of no worth out of that connection. The strongest of these are,
1. The nobler powers of the mind, adapted to higher pursuits and
contemplations. Yet, in most cases, these powers are little developed-hardly enough to fit men for their duties —and they tend
to things sensual and worldly so generally and strongly as to lead to
the belief that they are only destined to live for the present.
2. The continual progress of the soul in knowledge and virtue;
and yet, in the natural course of things, the mind declines with the
body as old age comes on, and seems extinct with death.
3. The strong desire for immortality. Yet other desires still
stronger-those for life and happiness-are disregarded in God's
administration. Life and immortality were brought to light by
Christ, and were only guessed at by the heathen; and there is nothing in mere Theism to satisfy the soul that it shall exist after death;
or, if it does, that existence can be otherwise than wretched. Men
are pushed 1up to the brink of the grave with no light beyond —
doubtful, at best, of all beyond. The vast procession of humanity,
swept on by an invisible fate, plunges into a midnight gulf. Generation after generation disappears, and no one knows their destiny.
We look above, around to men, onward to the departed, to all in
vain, for a solution of our dreadful doubts. No voice is heard. It
is a still and dark domain, that of death. Is the soul to think, to
feel, to joy, to suffer, to hope, to aspire no more? Is all to return to




FAITH IN CHRIST.                     631
dust? Will the uplifted arm of God crush the spiritual as it demolishes the material? Will there be no more imaginings-sleeping,
waking visions? no more communings with those we love? no greet.
ings? no sympathies? The deep struggling of the soul against de.
pravity and corruption-the hungering and thirsting after the true,
the pure, the lovely-was it all for naught?  Does it end here?
Shall this struggle be the end of me? the gloomy pit of corruption
be my home evermore, and make me the equal-the victim of the
loathsome worm, that but to-morrow shall begin his feast upon my
flesh? Has the wisdom of man, has the experience o'f the entire
race, has the religion of nature-Theism  or Deism-has any but
God, has God out of Christ any answer for these interrogatories of
a dying, despairing race? No I There is no answer. Earth, and
the shades below, and heaven above, deny all response-all hope
to the soul in its hour of suspense, and agony, and doom. And
here we are driven forward, an unwilling herd, toward this fatal limit
-looking for light, and there is no ray; calling for help, and there
is no answer I
This horror of being nothing would be the grand evil; this suspense as to the future would be the natural and fierce plague of the
soul under the circumstances supposed, and which must cling to our
very being without the aid of the Gospel.
In some minds, the question of immortality has received a partial solution. Doubt, if not hope, has possibly taken the place of
absolute despair. Let us suppose the light thus attained by a few
to be general or universal; that through philosophy, or tradition, or
innate teachings, the mystery were quite chased away, or that an
audible voice proclaimed from heaven, " We shall live forever. The
body even shall revive, and the soul shall be immortal." Would
such a faith satisfy the human mind? It would satisfy one demand
of our nature and condition, but it would awaken new anxieties
harder to allay or appease. Who can feel the import of the announcement, You shall exist evermore? Under what conditions?
With the same infirmities, liabilities, wants, tendencies, aspirations?
Exposed, as here, to pain, loss, disappointment, toil? Surrounded,
as here, with temptations, dangers, foes? with wicked men? What
joys are there really adapted to the soul's wants? I have tried
wealth, luxury, ambition; and in less than threescore years and ten,
have lost all my relish for them. Friends have deceived. Success
has palled upon me. All is vanity and vexation of spirit. Is there
no better lot nor hope? Then death were better than life, and an
untimely birth than endless being




5832                 STEPHEN  OLIN.
We must spend this eternity in the domains of an eternal, om
nipotent God. We tremble at this association. We have no ascer.
tained relations with the Almighty One. There is no covenant
between us. What are his dispositions toward us? We have
known much of His severity and His judgments. Will He make
my eternal lot happy or wretched? Perhaps wretched. The cup
of human misery has even run over in His presence. Most are poor
Many suffer clear through this state of existence. May they not
through the next? The best men often suffer most here. What
security is there for the future?
Admit, now, the idea that man is alienated from God by sin, and
nothing more is wanting to complete His despair. God's justice,
then, requires our misery; His holiness, our banishment from His
presence. There is in this Deistic dispensation no place for repentance. We see vice and sin left to produce their own consequences,
and God does not interfere in compassion. Intemperance, prodigality, debauchery lead always to evil, often to ruin here; and we can
only infer from the things seen that so it will be through eternity.
Remedies, interpositions to rescue, mediation, substitution, pardon,
all are unknown where Christ is not.
These considerations and statements expose the wants which a
fuller, brighter dispensation is required to satisfy. Deism-" faith
n God" —is adapted to awaken, not to calm our fears; to trouble
the heart, not to assuage its griefs and anxieties. It may be a coworker with the law. It may disclose our wants and perils. It
may even bring us to Christ, but has no sufficiency to satisfy or
save.
" Believe also in Me," is the complement of the text, which quite
provides for all the contingencies and necessities of our moral and
spiritual nature —all the wants which this train of reflections has
suggested, and all that are liable to be felt or encountered by man
in his endless career.
Nature teaches only the "eternal power and Godhead" of the
Almighty-His terrible majesty, and His ability to destroy as well
as aid us. Christ teaches that " God is love;" that He " careth for
us;" that not a hair of our heads falls without Him; "that like as
a father pitieth his children," so does God pity His creatures; that
He is indeed our Father.
Death, " the king of terrors," the abhorrence of our nature and
of natural religion, becomes, under the economy which "brings life
and immortality to light," an open door into the world of glory,
Death has lost his sting-he is a conquered enemy.




FAITH  IN CHRISTi.                    53
The Gospel dispensation explains whatever is anomalous and
unintelligible in our present condition. The labors, the anxieties,
the disappointments, the mortifications, the bereavements, the suffer.
ings that make up our history here are all clearly interpreted.
These, to an irreligious mind, are wholly inexplicable upon any
theory which stops short of rejecting a superintending Providence
altogether, or which, indeed, does not go the length of absolute
atheism, and leave the affairs of this world, so far as they transcend
the grasp of mere human control, to the ministrations of blind,
mindless accident. Many good men, too, who are far from calling
in question the Divine prerogative of God, and would shudder at
the thought of dwelling in a world where he does not reign over
all, are yet grievously puzzled with this class of phenomena. Conscious of their own demerits, of the justice of every chastisement
that falls upon them, they are yet left to wonder why, if God is
merciful, and they are His friends and His children, little or no distinction should be made between them and His open foes. They
draw inferences not unfavorable to the Divine mercy or veracity,
but to their own real character and relation to God. They write
bitter things against themselves, and conclude that they are bastards
and not sons, because they have part in afflictions whereof all are
partakers.
I am not stating an imaginary or an unfrequent case in human
experience. It is a view of God's administration upon which multitudes dwell habitually, and which has shed its saddening influences
upon many passages in almost every good man's history. It is the
natural fruit of a narrow, imperfect, deistic faith. Now faith in
Christ-a simple, hearty reception of the whole truth as it is in
Jesus-offers not some palliation of this chief trouble of so many
sincere hearts, but a positive and satisfactory solution bf the whole
difficulty. Each of the hundred texts in the New Testament which
teach us that suffering here is rather disciplinary than punitive, and
that temporal afflictions are busy in working out for good men, who
walk not after the flesh, the most excellent spiritual and eternal
results, teaches a philosophy in the light of which all doubt vanishes away, and all contradictions find reconciliation. We have here
the true theory of the world under God's administration —the basis
of a system in which every intelligible fact, every dark event, the
entire chaos of human affairs, have their appropriate place, and become explicable in perfect harmony with the Divine attributes, and
with man's nature and destiny. All appearance and suspicion of
accident, or chance, or blind destiny vanish. away at the coming in




534                  STEPAfEN  OLIN.
of this evangelical faith; and all the disappointments, and disasters,
and sufferings of men, and all the confusion, and crash, and wreck
of external things, stand revealed in the light of this large, Divine
philosophy as a vast apparatus for the production and culture of
those high moral virtues which shall be in request in the society and
services of heaven.
Whatever may be the kind, or degree, or duration of a good
man's sufferings, this last and proper view of the Christian dispensation is always sufficient to calm his anxieties and silence all complaints. It is God's chosen way to make men holier on earth and
happier in heaven. It is idle, it is hardly innocent, to talk of the
mysteriousness of such providences. They constitute an important
part of God's revealed and predestined plan for saving the world
and refitting our fallen souls with such virtues and capabilities as
are best adapted to a heavenly career. Every position in life, each
mode of suffering, each sphere of acting, becomes a favorable point
for the development of Christian virtues. The poor man's poverty,
the sick man's suffering, the rich man's affluence, the wise man's
knowledge, constitute occasions or instruments for promoting the
highest conceivable ends of the Divine administration. All apparently fortuitous changes are only so many conjectures divinely appointed for the profitable exercise or honorable manifestation of
those gracious attributes with which the Gospel will enrich and
beautify its disciples.
It is meet and right, and our bounden duty, to welcome such
views of the Gospel, and to stir up our spirits to the exercise of such
a faith. It is the high privilege of every good man to go forth under
the inspiring and assured conviction that all things work together
for his good; that light afflictions here will certainly add to the
exceeding weight of eternal glory; and that, if he is led on by an
invisible hand through the deepest waters and the hottest fires, it
only betokens a more splendid triumph, and a higher destiny, and
should admonish him to lift up from depths that have come over his
soul a louder cry unto God, and to urge through the thick clouds
beyond which the Divine presence dwells concealed, the acclamation
of a braver faith, " Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him."
Here I could wish that I had a moment to contrast with the Divine system which I have so imperfectly developed —the system
which regards all physical and social good and evil as instrumental
in the production of great moral results, with that mere worldly philosophy which esteems these only as the accidents and anamolies attendent on what is called human progress-a theory which can give




FAITH  IN  CHRIST.                    536
no better account of the revolutions and sufferings of the race in all
past time, than that they have developed great principles in government and art, and the economy of life; and that they tend to a consummation already visible in the dim future, in which the masses
shall be well fed, taught, and governed —in which China shall enjoy
trial by jury, and Russia universal suffrage. How worthy of a wise
merciful God is the former view, making all things promotive of ho.
liness and happiness! How heartless and worldly the last, which
accounts of immortal men and of past generations as of the rank veg
etation that grows and decays to fatten the soil for a better crop!
The Gospel also satisfies the anxious inquiries of the soul with
regard to its moral obligations, relations, and tendencies. It answers
the momentous question, What does God demand of us? Its announcements on these points are, indeed, sufficiently repulsive and
appalling. As to all moral interests, it declares that we are hope.
lessly ruined. The Almighty is our enemy —we are His enemies. We
are without strength or power to relieve us, and the curse —the wrath of
God —abides upon us. Repentance can not atone for the past, or insure acceptance for the future. No efforts of any sort can bring us
upon a better footing. So radical is the moral defection, that, do
what we will, we can not obey or love-we can not even desire to
do so; so that the alienation from God, and banishment from all
holy associations, and all elevating, spiritual pursuits and enjoyments
result no less from our own dispositions and tendencies, than from
the Divine justice. Such announcements from the " God over all,"
are truly calculated to "trouble the heart;" but when danger is real
and imminent, any thing is better than false security —than to sleep
on the brink of ruin. The soul would know the worst of its prospect. Effort, even when vain, ministers a temporary solace, and the
human mind would rather look its fearful destiny in the face, and
even make a covenant with hell, than be surprised into it.
Surely nc homily upon sin and the sinner's doom was ever half
so appalling and effective as a silent contemplation of the great catastrophe upon the cross. We see God's abhorrence of sin-what an
odious, terrible element it is in His moral system. The dignity, the
suffering, the condescension of the holy Victim —what do they teach
but God's utter abhorrence of our moral character? His irreconcilable opposition to man in his present false position? The agony of
the Garden is a more fearful manifestation of this than the damnation
of the entire race, of which it is a kind of epitome. How deep the
stain, how desperate the malady which called for such an interference   I think this view of sin, if fairly entertained, would be strictly




536                   STEPHEN  OLIN.
intolerable-overwhelming to the human soul. We need preach no
more about the atrocity and danger of sin, could we induce men to
look upon the exhibition of its consequences as seen upon the cross.
The cross teaches another lesson. It "troubles" the heart by a
fearful manifestation of God's hatred of sin, but it inspires hope by
the provision which it makes for the sinner. Why this sacrifice?
It had been easy to apply a cheaper remedy, to destroy, to cut off
the tainted race of men. This costlier plan speaks of God's compassion for the sinner. He hates sin, but will save the transgressor.
It is not wrath, wholly or chiefly that is manifested. No. " God so
loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever
believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life." This
shows His disposition toward the sinner. He will make smaller,
having made the great sacrifice. He will withhold no needful help,
now, that the mighty design has been so seriously entered upon.
Christ, too, was voluntary in the sacrifice, not compelled. He contemplated the burden He was about to assume. He would have
turned the cup away, but not if He must drink it. " Let this cup
pass," He said, when the agony, the mocking, the cruel injustice of
Pilate's tribunal, the contradiction of sinners, the contempt of the
people, the final pang was full and near before Him. "If it be possible, let this cup pass," but not if be Thy will-not if the condition
be imperative-not if the great plan will thus be frustrated; for, to
this end came I into the world.
This is the grand central position of the Gospel-is the Gospel
itself. HIe who believes in the crucified Saviour believes the Gospel
— hath eternal life. This is the true point of view whence it must
be contemplated, or all is vain, the source of saving light-of all
consolation to troubled hearts. We stand by the cross of Christ and
cry "Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the
world."  This is our message, our argument, our doctrine, our warning to the impenitent, our encouragement for the sorrowing, the rich
hope of the believer. When we can induce a man to fix his gaze
upon the cross, our work is done. He is there taught of God. We
step aside, and only beseech him to keep his gaze directed to the
Lamb. There he will learn all. He will hate the sins that wounded
his Lord. ~ He will believe in all the word of God, which is so gloriously and wonderfully fulfilled. His doubts will vanish in the clear
light of such a demonstration. No heart can withstand the affecting
vision. The sinner sees Jesus as He is-all compassionate, amiable,
divine. He will be speedily transformed by gazing upon the exhibition. Gratitude, heavenly love, blessed confidence steal into his




FAITH  IN  CHRIST.                    537
soul, as it waits in rapt and adoring contemplation of Him " who first
loved us." None can bear away from such a presence a lingering
doubt, "a troubled heart," an unbelieving fear. None but a stupid,
hardened sinner can endure the sight unmoved; and even he-he
has not seen Christ, his eyes are held, he is blind; yea, if our Gospel
be hidden from him he is lost, and the god of this world has indeed
blinded his eyes.
I linger here, because I feel that this view of Christ involves not
only very important but all-essential truth —nothing more is wanting
to the soul's comfort or salvation. I must yet speak briefly of other
blessed adaptations of the Christian system.
I will refer to the kind and degree of evidence which attends and
attests true interior religion-not historical and external evidence,
which, however clear and valuable, presents a demand for erudition
and study, and a large intellectual grasp, and is, so far, less adapted
to the common mind; but internal, experimental evidence, which is
liable neither to doubts nor cavilings. Nothing short of certainty
can satisfy or ought to satisfy a soul whose eternity is the question
in debate. It is madness to be quiet and satisfied so long as we are
in doubt whether we are the friends or the enemies of God. The soul
can not, must not rest in suspense. The heart is troubled, tortured
by suspense. Nice deductions, conclusions arrived at by ingenious
concatenated trains of argument, may do in the forum or in a show
of dialectics, but bring no comfort to a soul that has roused itself to
-the inquiry, Am I God's friend or foe? Now the great proofs on
which the Gospel relies are demonstrations made to the moral perceptions of man, and are quite independent of logic and metaphysics.
Even the preliminary evidences and influences of the Gospel are of
this sort. The true light shines into all hearts directly from God.
The Spirit operates divinely upon all, and all have a witness within
that responds to the Gospel message. We rely exclusively on this
voice of God within when we press religious truth on sinners. We
know they believe, for God insures it.
Still less is the reality of reconciliation with God and justification
by faith left to doubtful inferences. The Spirit of God bears witness within to the great moral revolution; and who could endure to
rest in such a matter on lower testimony? who could cease from the
troubles of his smitten heart? who could rejoice evermore? who
could exult in Christ his Saviour? who glory in heavenly prospects,
so long as doubt hovered over his mind? It were absolute madness.
The spirit of a man can nbt rest till the day-star arise in the heart —
till Christ be founi  within, the hope of glory-till the filial cry of




538                  STEPHEN  OLIN.
"Abba, Father" comes up spontaneously from the depths within.
And this is just the evidence which the Gospel offers; and they who
rest short of it enter but slightly into its true genius, and but poorly
avail themselves of its provisions.
This evidence, so indispensable to our peace at the outset, is seconded, confirmed, and almost forgotten, in the progress of experience,
in that of love, which becomes the engrossing principle in a state of
mature piety. The tendency of spiritual life and gracious influence
is to produce a oneness of purpose with Christ, a sympathy with His
interests and glory, an intense affection for His character, attributes,
and designs, which in some measure supersedes, or rather involves
and absorbs faith, hope, and every other grace and virtue. The soul
imbued with love to Christ is one with Him in such a sense as to
feel a spontaneous assurance of His favor. It thinks little of what
proof may exist of a fact which is part and parcel of its existence,
which has living demonstration in all its strong impulses and aspirations. Such a one communes with Christ. lChrist is formed within
him, lives in him, and he no longer asks, Who shall ascend into
heaven to bring Christ from above, or who shall descend into the
deep, that is, to bring up Christ again from the dead? The confidence of loving and of being loved becomes entire, wanting nothing;
and to be Christ's forever becomes more a reality already entered
upon than a question about which there are doubtful inquiries to be
held.
It is quite in the spirit of my text to notice how much the incarnation of Christ and His participation of our nature tend to the production of this blessed confidence in Him. We contemplate Him as
a man born of a woman, partaker of our weaknesses and wants.
We look upon Him as a son-a kinsman-a philanthropist. Our
sympathies warm-our affections are elicited. We dare to love-we
can love Him. The distance and the dignity of the infinite are
vailed, and we hail a Brother, and receive a Friend and a Benefactor
into our swelling hearts.




DISCOURSE SEVENTY.EIGHTH.
JOHN SUMMERFIELD, A.M.
THEE " seraphic Summerfield," as he has often been called, was born
in England, January 31, 1798, and came to New York in 1821. His
appearance, like a bright comet shooting athwart the heavens, attracted
universal admiration. Crowds flocked to the places where he was to
preach, and hung with emotions of wonder and delight upon his lips.
His course, however, was destined to be as short as it was brilliant.
Health failed him, and on this account he was compelled to visit France
in 1823; but the mild climate proving of no avail, he returned to New
York, and died June 13, 1825, aged twenty-seven years.
As a field-preacher, Summerfield stood alongside of Whitfield in powerful, persuasive eloquence. An eye-witness has said of him: —" In very
early life, a student in Washington city, I heard the famous Summerfield, a young Methodist itinerant. His face and form were of womanly,
almost of angelic beauty. A divine luster beamed in his eyes. His
clear, full, sonorous voice fell like the tones of a mountain-bell one moment, and anon came crashing, thundering down, with terrible effect, on
the startled masses, forcing them to cry aloud and crowd together, with
uplifted arms, as though for shelter from an impending avalanche. His
eloquence shook sin from its citadels, and dragged vice and fashion from
their'pride of place.' The sensation he produced was tremendous, and
multitudes followed his footsteps."
Much of Summerfield's power over an audience was doubtless due to
his manner and action, which are said to have been perfect. His style
of address, also, was simple and natural, and the truthb he presented
were such as were instinctively responded to by the hum-an heart. This
admirable simplicity of style could not fail to produce its effect. But
the, peculiar charm seems to have been his meekness, s Teet humility, fer.
vent piety, and lowliness of spirit. Every one saw in him, as it were,
the personification of the meek and lowly Jesus, and could not but ad.
mire and love.
But few, if any, of Summerfield's sermons were written out in full,
as he preached from a brief outline. He was, however, in the habit of
writing down from recollection what he had delivered; and to this we




540                JOHN  SUMMERFIELD.
owe the volume of sketches and sermons which has been given to thle
public. James Montgomery, the poet, having examined a volume of
his sermons, in manuscript, remarked of them: " They are exceedingly
methodical in plan and in execution; they are distinguished chiefly by
sound doctrine, exact judgment, and severe abstinence from ornament."
Many of his sermons are of real value, containing striking thoughts and
beautiful imagery. To this class belongs the one which we have
selected.
THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE.' For so an entrance shall be ministered unto you abundantly into the everlasting
kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ." —2 PETER, i. 11.
Of all the, causes which may be adduced to account for the indifference which is so generally manifested toward those great concerns
of eternity, in which men are so awfully interested, none appears to
me so likely to resolve the mystery, as that unbelief which lies at the
core of every heart, hindering repentance, and so making faith impossible. Men hear that there is a hell to shun, a heaven to win;
and, though they give their assent to both these truths, they never
impress them on their mind. It is plain that, whatever their lips may
confess, they never believed with the heart, otherwise some effect
would have been produced in the life. The germ of unbelief lies
within, and discovers itself in all that indifference which is displayed, in the majority of that class of beings whose existence is to
be perpetuated throughout eternity.
If these thoughts do sometimes obtrude themselves on their
serious attention, they are immediately banished from their minds;
and the dying exclamation of Moses may be taken up with tears by
every lover of perishing sinners: "O! that they were wise, that
they understood this, that they would consider their latter end!"
When God, by His prophet Isaiah, called the Israelites to a sense of
their awful departure from Him, His language was, "My people do
not know: My people do not consider." How few are there like
Mary, who " ponder these things in their heart," who are willing to
look at themselves, to pry into eternity, to put the question home,
"Shall I be with the damn'd cast out,
Or numbered with the bless'd?"
This question must sooner or later have a place in your minds, or
awful will be your state indeed; let it reach your hearts to-day; and




THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE.                   541
if you pray to the Father of light, you will soon be enabled in His
light to discern so much of yourselves as will cause you to cry,
"What shall I do to be saved?" While we shall this morning at.
tempt to point out some of the privileges of the sons of God, 01
may your hearts catch the strong desire to be conformed to the living Head, that so an abundant entrance may be administered unto
you also, into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviou
Jesus Christ.
The privilege to which our text leads us, is exclusively applicable
to those to whom that question has been solved by the Spirit of God;
those who have believed to the saving of their souls; who have ex.
perienced redemption through His blood, and the forgiveness of
sins; and who are walking in the fear of the Lord and in the com
fort of the Holy Ghost.
I. The state to which we look forward: the "everlasting kingdom
of our Lord and Saviour."
1. It is a kingdom. By this figurative expression our Lord has
described the state of grace here and of glory hereafter; our happiness in time and our happiness in eternity. They were wisely so
ailled: Jesus has said as well as done all things well; for these two
states differ not in kind, but in degree; the one is merely a preparative for the other, and he who has been a subject of the former king.
dom will be a subject of the latter. Grace is but the seed of glory,
glory is the maturity of grace; grace is but the bud of glory, glory
is Race full blown; grace is but the blossom of glory, glory is the
ripe trult of grace; grace is but the infant of glory, glory is the
perfection oi grace. Hence our hymn beautifully says, "The men
of grace have found glory begun below," agreeing with our Lord's
own words, " He that believeth hath everlasting life;" he feels even
here its glories beginning —a foretaste of its bliss.
Now the propriety with which these two states are called king.
doms, is manifest from the analogy which might be traced between
them and the model of a human sovereignty. Two or three of the
outlines of this model will be sufficient.
In tire idea of a kingdom it is implied that in some part of its
extent, there is the residence of a sovereign; for this is essential to
constitute it. Now in the kingdom of grace the heart of the believer
is made the residence of the King Invisible! "K Rnow ye not that
your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you?" Such
know what that promise means, " I will dwell in them, and they shall
be My people."  St. Paul exultingly cries, " Christ liveth in me."
Again, it is essential that the inhabitants of a kingdom be under




542               JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
the government of its laws. An empire without laws is no sover.
eignty at all; it ceases to be such, for every inhabitant has an equal
right to do that which seems good in his own eyes. Now the subjects of Christ's kingdom of grace are " not without law, but are
under a law to Christ;" they do His righteous will I Lastly, it is
essential that the subjects of a kingdom be under the protection of
the presiding monarch, and that they repose their confidence in Him.
To the subjects of the kingdom of grace, Christ imparts His kingly
protection; this is their heritage: " No weapon formed against them
shall prosper;" nay, He imparts to them of His royal bounty, and
they enjoy all the blessings of an inward heaven.
But how great the perfection of the kingdom of glory mentioned
in our text! Does He make these vile bodies His residence here?
How much more glorious is His temple above I how splendid the
court of heaven! There, indeed, He fixes His throne, and they see
Him as He is. Does He exercise His authority here, and rule His
happy subjects by the law, the perfect law of love? How much
more in heaven! He reigns there forever over them; His government is there wholly by Himself; He knows nothing of a rival
there; His rule is sole and perfect: there they serve Him day and
night. Are His subjects here partakers of His kingly bounty?
Mbuch more in heaven I He calls them to a participation of all the
joys, the spiritual joys which are at His right hand, and the pleasures
which are there forevermore. Yet, after all our descriptions of that
glory, it is not yet revealed, and, therefore, inconceivable. But who
would not hail such a Son of David? who would not desire to be
swayed by such a Prince of Peace? Whose heart would not ascend with the affections of our poet, " O I that with yonder sacred
throng, we at His feet may fall?"
2. But it is an everlasting kingdom  Here it rises in the scale
of comparison. Weigh the kingdoms of this world in this balance,
and they are found wanting; for on many we read their fatal history,
and ere long we shall see them all branded with the writing of the
Invisible Agent, " The kingdom is taken from thee, and given to a
nation bringing forth the fruits thereof;" " For the kingdoms of this
world have become the kingdoms of our Lord and of His Christ;"
they will be all absorbed and swallowed up in the fullness of eternity, and leave not a wreck behind! Every thing here is perishable! The towering diadem of Caesar has fallen from his head and
crumbled into dust; and that kingdom whose scepter once swayed
the world, betwixt whose colossal stride all nations were glad to
creep to find themselves dishonored graves, is now forgotten, or, if




THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE.                  543
its recollection be preserved, its history is emphatically called " The
Decline and Fall."
But bring the matter nearer home; apply not to multitudes of
subjects, but to your individual experience, and has not that good
Teacher instructed you in this sad lesson? We tremble to look at
our earthly possessions and employments, lest we should see them
in motion, spreading their wings to fly away I How many are there
already who, in talking of their comforts, are obliged to go back in
their reckoning I Would not this be the language of some of you:
" I had —I had a husband, the sharer of my joys, the soother of my
sorrows; but he is not I I had a wife, a helpmeet for me; but where
is she? I had children to whom I looked up as my support and
staff in the decline of life, while passing down the hill; but I am
bereaved of my children I I had health, and I highly prized its
wealth; but now my emaciated frame, my shriveled system, and
the pains of nature bespeak that comfort fled! I had, or fondly
thought I had, happiness in possession I Then I said with Job, " I
shall die in my nest I" but ah I an unexpected blast passed over me,
and now my joys are blighted I " They have fled as a shadow, and
continued not." Yes  time promised you much! perhaps it performed a little; but it can not do any thing for you on which it can
grave eternal. Its name is'mortal, its nature is decay; it was born
with man, and when the generations of men shall cease to exist, it
will cease also: " Time shall be no longer!" We know concerning
these that, "All flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the
flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower fadeth, but the
word of the Lord endureth forever." Yes! His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom; glory can not corrupt! the crown of glory can not
fadeI Why?  Death will be destroyed; Christ will put this last
enemy under His feet, and all will then be eternal life I Oh happy,
happy kingdom; nay, thrice happy he who shall be privileged to be
its subject!
3. It is the everlasting kingdom of our own Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ. It is His by claim: " Him hath God the Father highly
exalted;". yea, Him hath He appointed to be "the Judge of quick
and dead;" for though "by the sufferings of death He was made a
little lower than the angels," yet immediately after His resurrection
He declares that now "All power is given unto him in heaven and
in earth!" The Father hath committed all judgment unto the Son,
and He has now the disposal of the offices and privileges of the em.
pire among His faithful followers. This is the idea that the penitent
dying thief had on the subject: " Lord remember me when Thou




544                JOHN  SUMMERFIELD.
comest into Thy kingdom;" and St. Paul expresses the sam'e when
he says to Timothy in the confidence of faith, " The Lord shall deliver me and preserve me unto His heavenly kingdom." Oh I how
pleasing the thought to the child of God, that his ruler to all eternity will be his elder Brother; for He who sanctifieth and they who
are sanctified are all of one; and though He is heir of all things, yet
we, as younger branches of the same heavenly family, shall be joint
heirs, fellow-heirs of the same glorious inheritance. How great will
be our joy to behold Him who humbled Himself for us to death,
even the death of the cross, now exalted God over all, blessed for
evermore; and while contemplating Him under the character of our
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, how great the relish which will be
given to that feeling of the redeemed which will constrain them to cry,
"Thou alone art worthy to receive glory, and honor, and power."
II. But the apostle reminds us of the entrance into this kingdom!
1. The entrance into this kingdom is death: "By one man sin
entered into the world, and death by sin:"
"Death, like a narrow sea, divides
That heavenly land from ours I"' A messenger is sent to bring us to God, but it is the King of
Terrors. WAe enter the land flowing with milk and honey, but it is
through the valley of the shadow of death." Yet fear not, O thou
child of God  there is no need that thou, through the fear of death,
shouldst be all thy lifetime subject to bondage.
2. No; hear the apostle: the entrance is ministered unto thee I
Death is but His minister; he can not lock his ice-cold hand in thine
till He permit. Our Jesus has the keys of hell and death; and till He
liberates the vassal to bring thee home, not a hair of thy head can fall
to the ground! Fear not, thou worm! He who minds the sparrows
appoints the time for thy removal: fear not; only be thou always
ready, that, whenever the Messenger comes to take down the tabernacle in which thy spirit has long made her abode, thou mayest be
able to exclaim, "Amen! even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly."
Death need have no terrors for thee; he is the vassal of thy Lord,
and, however unwilling to do him reverence, yet to him that sits at
God's right hand shall even death pay, if not a joyful, yet a trem.
bling homage; nay, more:
"To Him shall earth and hell submit,
And every foe shall fall,
Till death expires beneath His fee#
and God is all in all."




THE HEAVENLY INHERITANCE.                   545
Christ has already had one triumph over death; His iron pangs
could not detain the Prince who has " life in Himself;' and in His
strength thou shalt triumph, for the power of Christ is promised to
rest upon thee! He has had the same entrance; His footsteps
marked the way, and His cry to thee is, " Follow thou Me."  " My
sheep," says He, "Hear My voice, and they do follow Me;" they
follow Me gladly, even into this gloomy vale; and what is the con.
sequence? " They shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck
them out of AMy hand."
3. It is ministered unto you abundantly.  Perhaps the apostl'
means that the death of some is distinguished by indulgences and
honors not vouchsafed to all. In the experience of some, the passage appears difficult; in others it is comparatively easy; they gently
fall asleep in Jesus. But we not only see diversities in the mortal
agony-this would be a small thing. * * * Some get in with
sails full spread and carrying a rich cargo indeed, while others arrive
barely on a single plank. Some, who have long had their conversation in heaven, are anxious to be wafted into the celestial haven;
while others, who never sought God till alarmed at the speedy ap.
proach of death, have little confidence,
"And linger shivering on the brink,
And fear to launch away."
This doctrine must have been peculiarly encouraging to the early
converts to whom St. Peter wrote. From the tenor of both of his
epistles it is clear that they were in a state of severe suffering, and
in great danger of apostatizing through fear of persecution. He
reminds them that if they hold fast their professions, an abundant
entrance will be ministered unto them. The death of the martyr is
far more glorious than that of the Christian who concealed his profession through fear of man. Witness the case of Stephen: he was
not ashamed of being a witness for Jesus in the face of the violent
death which awaited him, and which crushed the tabernacle of his
devoted spirit; his Lord reserved the highest display of His love
and of His glory for that awful hour!  "Behold I" says he to his
enemies, while gnashing on him with their teeth, "Behold! I see
heaven opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of
God:" then, in the full triumph of faith, he cries out, "Lord Jesus I
receive my spirit!"
But did these things apply merely to the believers to whom St.
Peter originally wrote? No; you are the men to whom they equally
apply; according to your walk and profession of that Gospel will be
35




546               JOHN SUMMERFIELD.
the entrance which will be ministered unto you. Some of you have
heard, in another of our houses, during the past week, the dangerous tendency of the spirit of fear, the fear of man. I would you
had all heard that discourse: alas I many who have a name and a
place among us are becoming mere Sabbath-day worshipers in the
courts of the Lord, and lightly esteem the daily means of grace. I
believe this is one cause at least why many are weak and sickly
among us in divine things. The inner man does not make due increase; the world is stealing a march unawares upon us. May God
revive among us the spirit of our fathers I
These things, then, I say, equally apply to you. Behold the
strait, the royal, the king's highway! Are you afraid of the reproach
of Christ?
"Ashamed of Jesus, that dear Friend
On whom our hopes of heaven depend?"
How soon would the world be overcome if all who profess that faith
were faithful to it  Woe to the rebellious children who compromise
truthlwith the world, and in effect deny their Lord and Masterl
Who hath required this at their hands? Do they not follow with
the crowd who cry, "Lord, Lord I and yet do not the things which
HIe says?" Will they have the adoption and the glory? Will they
aim at the honor implied in these words, " Ye are my witnesses?"
Will ye indeed be sons? Then see the path wherein His footsteps
shine!  The way is open! see that ye walk therein! The false
apostles, the deceitful workers shall have their reward; the same
that those of old had, the praise and esteem of men; while the faith
of those who truly call Him Father and Lord, and who walk in the
light as He is in the light, who submit, like Him and His true followers, to be counted as " the filth of the world, and the offscouring of
all things, shall be found unto praise, and honor, and glory!
The true Christian does not seek to hide himself in a corner; he
lets his light shine before men, whether they will receive it or not;
and thereby is his Father glorified. Having thus served, by the
will of God, the hour of his departure at length arrives. The angels
beckon him away; Jesus bids him come; and as he departs this life
he looks back with a heavenly smile on surviving friends, and is
enabled to say, " Whither I go, ye know, and the way ye know."
An entrance is ministered unto him abundantly into the everlasting
kingdom of his Lord and Saviour.
III. Having considered the state to which we look, and the mode
of our admission, let us consider the condition of it This is implied
in the word "so." For so an entrance shall be ministered unto you.




THE ]HEAVENLY INHERITANCE                    i47
In the preceding part of this chapter, the apostle has pointed oat the
meaning of this expression, and in the text merely sums it all up in
that short mode of expression.
The first condition he shows to be, the obtaining like precious
faith with him, through the righteousness of God and our Saviour
Jesus Christ. Not a faith which merely assents to the truths of the
Gospel record, but a faith which applies the merits of the death of
Christ to expiate my individual guilt; which lays hold on Him as
my sacrifice, and produces, in its exercises, peace with God, a knowledge of the divine favor, a sense of sin forgiven, and a full certainty,
arising from a divine impression on the heart, made by the Spirit of
God, that I am accepted in the Beloved and made a child of God.
If those who profess the Gospel of Christ were but half as zealous in seeking after this enjoyment, as they are in discovering creaturely objections to its attainment, it would be enjoyed by thousands
who at present know nothing of its happy reality. Such persons, unfortunately for themselves, employ much more assiduity in searching
a vocabulary to find out epithets of reproach to attach to those who
maintain the doctrine, than in searching that volume which declares
that " if you are sons, God has sent forth the Spirit of His Son into
your hearts, crying Abba, Father;" and that "' he that believeth hath
the witness in himself." In whatever light a scorner may view this
doctrine now, the time will come when, being found without the
wedding garment, he will be cast into outer darkness.
0 sinner! cry to God this day to convince thee of thy need of
this salvation, and then thou wilt be in a condition to receive it:
" Shalt know, shalt feel thy sins forgiven,
Bless'd with this antepast of heaven."
But, besides this, the apostle requires that we then henceforth
preserve consciences void of offense toward God and toward man.
This faith which obtains the forgiveness of sin unites to Christ, and
by this union we are made, as St. Peter declares, " partakers of the
Divine nature:" and as He who has called you is holy, so you are to
be holy in all manner of conversation. For yours is a faith which
not only casts out sin, but purifies the heart-the conscience having
beern once purged by the sprinkling of the blood of Christ, you are
not to suffer guilt to be again contracted; for the salvation of Christ
is not only from the penalty, but from the very stain of sin; not
only from its guilt, but from its pollution; not only from its condemnation, but from its very in-being: c" The blood of Jesus Christ
cleanseth from all sin;" and " For this purpose was the Son of God




54:8              JOHN SUMMERF1 ELD.
manifested, that He might destroy the works of the devil."  You
are therefore required by St. Peter, " to escape the corruption that is
in the world through lust," and thus to perfect holiness in the fear
of the Lord I
Finally, live in progressive and practical godliness. Not only
possess, but practice the virtues of religion; not only practice, but
increase therein, abounding in the work of the Lord! Lead up, hand
in hand, in the same delightful chorus, all the graces which adorn the
Christian character. Having the Divine nature, possessing a new and
living principle, let diligent exercise reduce it to practical holiness,
and you will be easily discerned from those formal hypocrites, whose
faith and religion are but a barren and unfruitful speculation.
To conclude: live to God-live for God —live in God; and let
your moderation be known unto all men-the Lord is at hand:
"Therefore giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to
virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance: and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness,
brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness, charity."




DISCOURSE SEVENTY.NINTH.
BELA B. EDWARDS, D.D.
PROFESSOR EDWARDS was born at Southampton, Massachusetts, on the
4th of July, 1802. He sprang from that old Welsh family which embraces among its descendants the two Jonathan Edwards, and President
Dwight. He was graduated at Amherst College, in 1824, and having
become pious during his collegiate course, commenced his career
of distinguished usefulness. A year was first spent in superintending
the Academy at Ashfield, where his studies were kept up with great diligence. In 1825 he entered the Andover Theological Institution, and in
doing it, "entered on the elysium of his life." At the close of the first year
he was called to a tutorship in Amherst College, which office he filled for
two years. On the 8th of May, 1828, he was elected Assistant Secretary
of the American Education Society, and while discharging the duties of
that office, resided at Andover,where he pursued, meanwhile, the studies
of the two remaining years in the Seminary.
In 1833 Mr. Edwards established the American Quarterly Observer,
which, three years after, was united with the Biblical Repository. He
remained sole editor of these combined periodicals from January, 1835,
to January, 1838. In the autumn of 1837 he was appointed Professor of
the Hebrew language in the Seminary at Andover; and in 1848 was
elected to the chair of Biblical Literature. In this occupation, as a Biblical teacher, he spent the remainder of his life. It was on the 20th of
April, 1852, that he yielded to the ravages of a pulmonary disease, long
preying upon him, and breathed out his spirit "just as an infant falls
asleep."
As a Christian, Professor Edwards walked in all humility and devotion with his God. As a scholar and editor, he gained the profoundest
respect, and has left the abiding imprint of his genius upon the theological literature of the country. For twenty-three years he was employed
in superintending some of the most solid and influential periodical issues
in the world. As a friend and advocate of ministerial education, and as
a Biblical teacher, few men have done more to elevate the ministry than
he. As a preacher, he lacked the elements of a pulpit orator; but his




550                 BELA B. EDWARDS.
terse. sententious utterances, and his classic purity (~f style, fascinated the
appreciative hearers, and rivetted their attention to the great truths
brought before them. It has been said of his sermons that "they were
free from common-places, and had a luxuriance of thought and feeling
which reminded one of the trees with their branches bending and breaking under their fruit." Professor E. A. Park, D.D., has gfiven to the
world, in two volumes 12mo, with a memoir, many of the sermons and
other writings of Professor Edwards. That which is here given is the
first of the series, and has been justly pronounced "an exquisite example
of practical exposition, founded on the nicest analysis, and the deepest
insight of feeling." It is a thing of beauty from beginning to ending.
THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM.
The book of Psalms has ever been regarded in the Christian
Church as an overflowing fountain of religious experience. " Where
do we find," says Luther, " a sweeter voice of joy than in the Psalmk
of thanksgiving and praise? There you look into the heart of all
the godly as into a beautiful garden-as into heaven itself. What
delicate, sweet, and lovely flowers are there springing up of all manner of beautiful, joyous thoughts toward God and His goodness I On
the other hand, where do you find more profound, mournful, pathetic expressions of sorrow than the plaintive Psalms contain? The
Psalter forms, as it were, a little book for all saints, in which every
man, in whatever situation he may be placed, shall find Psalms and
sentiments which shall apply to his own case, and be the same to
him as if they were for his own sake alone; so expressed as he could
not express them himself, nor find nor even wish them better than
they are."
But admirably fitted as the Psalms are for all the varieties of
Christian experience, meditated upon and practically used as they
have been in all ages, still they are not, as they might be, the zherished companions, the trusty guides, of all who would walk safely
along the valley of the shadow of death. Much oftener than they
do, might Christians repair to these deep wells of salvation. More
at leisure, with less hurried step, they might wander over these green
pastures. Richer and far more varied nutriment these bountiful
storehouses supply, than the casual visitor imagines. Mines of
wealth yet unexplored still exist to reward the patient laborer.
The partial and unsatisfactory use which is often made of the




THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NIN'TH  PSALM.   551
Psalms, may be accounted for from a variety of causes, in addition
to the want of an appreciating and sympathizing disposition in the
reader.
Some of the Psalms, and passages in many of them, allude to a
state of society, pre-suppose a condition of manners and general in.
tercourse, which is Oriental, or which has passed away, or with which
we have not been educated to sympathize. The allusion, the illustration, is interposed in the midst of the finest strains of devotion,
and in passages of religious experience to which there would be a
universal response, were not the effect somewhat marred, were not a
dissonant chord struck by some expression which seems at least not
in perfect keeping, and which possibly is somewhat repulsive This
intervening thought does not accord with our ideas of propriety, or
it occasions some break in the otherwise delightful flow of emotions.
But we forget that many of these compositions must have a local
coloring, must betray the times, countries, state of society, in the
midst of which they had their origin. Otherwise they would lose
all verisimilitude. We should be deprived of all power of identifying them as genuine and trustworthy productions. Besides, we are
not authorized to set up our peculiar predilections and antipathies
as the unvarying standard for all nations and ages. There may be
a beauty and pertinence in illustrating the glories of the Messiah's
reign by an Oriental royal wedding, with all its gorgeous accompaniments, which we do not and can not perceive.
Another difficulty consists in the suddenness of the transitions.
Light and darkness interchange with the utmost rapidity. Abruptness of emotion, an extraordinary vacillation in religious experience,
characterize many of these productions. The most joyous and confident assurance is followed by waves of trouble. The deepest
melancholy gives place in a moment to songs of thanksgiving. A
Psalm opens with passionate expressions of love to the Almighty;
it closes with what seems to be an unauthorized anathema on His
enemies. The various passions which agitated the passionate worshiper, are sometimes expressed with a familiarity and boldness of
tone, with which Christian experience in later times can not always
accord, or at least fully sympathize. There is, too, an outward, and,
as it were, a public manifestation of this feeling, which might, at
first view, seem inconsistent with all retired and unobtrusive sensibilities. In the present state of society, in accordance with the
methods of modern Christian culture, there are more uniformity of
feeling, less violent outbursts of emotion, less striking alterations in
the exercises of the soul. Or if the emotions do rise as high or




552                BELA B. EDirARDS.
sink as low, the changes are less obvious to inspection, or are restrained within narrower limits.
This difference may be owing in part to national temperament,
or to the unbounded freedom with which men living in that age and
quarter of the world expressed all their feelings. It may be in part
owing also to a more checkered experience, to sudden and more violent reverses of Providence, to the more wonderful deliverances wit}
which pious men were then favored. The difference may be alsc
owing in a measure to our superficial feelings, our inability to comprehend the depth of the soul's emotions, our living under the control of artificial or conventional properties, where free utterance is
not allowed to the thoughts; the restraint operating to diminish and
dry up the very fountains of feeling.
Another reason why we do not receive the full practical impression which some of the Psalms are so fitted to produce is, that we do
not read them as a whole, we do not find the key which unlocks the
precious casket; we admit only the effect which detached verses or
sentiments produce. We cast a glance on a massive pillar, on a
beautiful cornice, on some adventitious decoration. We do not re.
ceive the impression which the great temple of truth, viewed as a
whole, is so well fitted to make. The Psalm, though overflowing
with emotion and sentiment, and characterized, perhaps, as among
the noblest specimens of inspired song, has, notwithstanding, perfect
unity; it is designed to produce one deep impression; all its parts
are interwoven; all its elements form one distinct and beautiful
whole. Contemplated by verses or detached ideas, it is contemplated
only in fragments. We can not thus experience the effects which
its author intended to produce. We stop at the first stage, but the
regular gradations all terminate in the topmost and crowning stone.
Because there is deep emotion or the highest imagination, there is
not necessarily confusion of thought, or disconnected ideas. The
composition may be bound together more completely than if it had
the ordinary and obvious links. This is one reason why we should
search the Scriptures, why we should not be satisfied with an indolent, desultory reading. We are to trace out the mind of the inspiring author; we are to follow those delicate threads and clews, invisible to the cursory reader; we are to toil up an ascent, perhaps
steep and uninviting, till suddenly appears the vast field of truth,
ravishing in its beauty, admirable in its proportions, and beyond
whose distant horizon there seems to stretch away unknown and still
brighter realms.  Some of these thoughts, and others related to
theln, I wish to illustrate by a brief examination of the hundred and




T1HE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM.  t56
thirty-ninth Psalm; a composition among the most remarkable, on
some accounts, in the collection; fraught with the loftiest conceptions of God, breathing profound and ardent devotion, uniting the
most awakening thoughts with the most finished outward form,
winged for the highest flight of the imagination, and yet conveying
impressive practical lessons; a favorite hymn in the past ages of the
Jewish and Christian Churches, and furnishing the germ of some of
the most sublime lyric poems in all Christian languages
"Jehovah I Thou hast searched me and known me;
Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine up-rising;
Thou understandest my thought afar off.
My path and my lying down Thou compassest,
And with all my ways art Thou acquainted.
For there is not a word in my tongue,
But lo I Jehovah, Thou knowest all of it.
Behind and before, Thou hast beset me
And layest upon me Thy hand.
Too wonderful is this knowledge for me,
It is high, I can not obtain unto it.
Whither shall I go from Thy Spirit?
And whither from Thy presence shall I flee?
Should I ascend the heavens, there Thou art;
And if I spread down hell as my couch,
Behold, Thou art there.
Should I take the wings of the morning
And dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
Even there Thy hand shall lead me,
And Thy right hand shall hold me;
And should I say, Darkness alone shall fall on meEven the night would be light about me;
Yea, the night as the day shineth.
As is the darkness, so the light.
For Thou hast created my reins,
Thou hast woven me in my mother's womb.
I will praise Thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully mas
Marvelous are Thy works,
And that my soul knoweth right well.
Not hidden was my substance from Thee
When I was formed in secret,
And curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earthl
My body Thine eyes beheld,
And in Thy book all my days werm enrolled;
My days were predetermined,
When there was not one of them I
And to me how precious are Thy thoughts O God!
How great is the sum of them I
If I should count them,
They are more in number than the sand.
When I awake, then still I am with Thee 




554                   BELA  B. EDWARDS.
Surely Thou wilt destroy, 0 God, the wicked!
Therefore, ye bloody men, depart from me.
For they speak against Thee wickedly,
And Thine enemies take Thy name in vain.
Those that hate Thee, Jehovah, do not I hate?
And those that rise up against Thee
Do not I abhor?
With perfect hatred I hate them,
For enemies I count them.
Search me, 0 God, and know my heart,
Try me, and know my thoughts;
And see if there be in me any evil way,
And lead me in the way everlasting."
On this Psalm I remark, in the first place, that the main thought,
the binding sentiment, the key to the interpretation, is in the nines
teenth and twenty-third verses. All which precedes the nineteenth
verse may be considered as preparatory or converging to it. The
Psalm has an immediately practical aim, which is unfolded near the
close. It is not an abstract description of the Divine attributes,
with a mere indirect purpose in view. If God is such a being, if
His vital agency reaches over all His creation, pervades all objects,
illumines the deepest and darkest recesses; if His knowledge has
no limits, piercing into the mysterious processes of creation, into the
smallest and most elemental germs of life; if His eye can discern
the still more subtle and recondite processes of mind, comprehending the half-formed conception, the germinating desire "afar off;"
if, anterior to all finite existence, His predetermining decree went
forth; if in those ancient records' of eternity, man's framework,
with all its countless elements and organs, in all the ages of his duration, were inscribed-then for his servant, his worshiper on earth,
two consequences follow, most practical and momentous; first, the
ceasing to have or feel any complacency with the wicked, any sympathy witn their evil ways, any communion with them as such; and
secondly, the earnest desire that God would search the Psalmist's soul,
lest in its unsounded depths there might be some lurking iniquity,
lest there might be, beyond the present jurisdiction of his conscience,
some dark realm which the Omniscient eye only could explore.
With the moral feelings of a Being whose scrutiny no subterfuge
can evade, whose knowledge antedates that of all others, to whom
there is nothing fathomless or dark in actual or in possible existence
-with His moral feelings those of His servant should harmonize.
There should be but one standard of character. The enemies of
one should be the enemies of the other. The degree of moral disappropation should be proportionably as intense in the one case as




THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM.   555
in the other. Sympathy with men of blood, participation with those
who take God's name in vain, would be, as it were, challenging His
omniscience, and proving by one's conduct that the fate of the transgressor had been predestined as his fate. So, likewise, an earnest
consideration of the all-pervading presence and all-comprehending
knowledge of God, would lead every thoughtful man to the profoundest humility and self-distrust, and to the wish that the searching light of Heaven may explore all the dark corners of his sou:l.
My second remark on this Psalm is, that the thoughts are presented in a gradually ascending series. The illustrations rise in a
beautiful progression. God's ubiquity and unlimited knowledge are
first illustrated by outward and, as it were, tangible allusions; then
by the wonderful processes of creation, which no eye can pierce;
then by those eternal decrees which accurately delineated all the
organic structures that were to come into being; and finally, by the
climax and crowning wonder of all, God's goodness to His frail and
humble servants on earth, His thoughts of love inestimably precious.
more in number than the sands on the sea-shore.
Is it a matter of surprise, that our path and our lying-down are
environed by this great Being; that in our walks we never can be
solitary or alone; that, free and independent as we may feel, we are
evermore pressed upon by a personal and conscious existence; that
in the highest heavens He is no more present than He is in the profoundest abyss; that it is His power which wings the earliest beam
of the morning, and His wisdom which guides it on its adventurous
course; that in the night with its rayless gloom He walks as in the
blaze of day? Do not be astonished at this; there are greater mysteries, "for Thou hast created my reins I" My bodily frame, fearfully and wonderfully made; that insipient organization, so faint, so
minute, as to mock all investigation; that contexture so complicated; those threads so innumerable and so cunningly interwoven,
animated by that impalpable breath, that subtle essence, which we
call life-this is the most wonderful of all. Before this curious
mechanism of Thine, the splendor of the morning and the solemn
pomp of. night fade away. Wrapped up within thee are mysteries
higher than thou couldst find in heaven, deeper than thou couldst
discover in hell. Travel not, even in thy wish, to the ends of the
earth to see God's wisdom; it is nigh thee, in thine own frame, in
thy breathing life. Thou carriest about with thee treasures of
knowledge which science can never explore. Thou art in thyself a
proof of Divine skill, which the heaven and the earth can not
equal.




556                BELA B. EDWARDS.
Yet be not astonished at this. All these wondrous existentes,
with their ten thousand elements, organs, and ramifications, did not
come by chance. They were arranged from all eternity. The
model, the plan, all the minute specifications, if we may so say,
were present with the Architect, were perfectly known long before
time began. In His book thy members were written in the unfath.
omable depths of a past eternity. This predetermining resolve, this
delineating decree, was more astonishing than the power that executed it; the design more extraordinary than its accomplishment.
God's consummate knowledge is shown, if possible, in greater perfection by the original conception than by the finishing act.
But more touching than all this stupendous knowledge, more im.
pressive than all this unerring prescience, is the divine compassion;
Utod's thoughts toward them that fear Him, overflowing with love,
uncounted in number. The greatest wonder in God is His condescension. His philanthropy, His fatherly benignity, His yearning
tenderness, is the crowning grace, is the thought which comprehends
and exhausts all others.
I remark, in the third place, upon this Psalm, that it does not
present the omnipresence and omniscience of God in their sterner
aspects, as awful powers, primitive attributes, the consuming agents:f the divine will. They are not placed in a cold and repelling
light, as destined merely to fill the soul with fear of that Being that
can wield such amazing resources. On the contrary, they are presented mainly in their winning and amiable forms, fitted to attract
and soothe, rather than to terrify and confound.
If His faithful worshiper ascend the heavens, God is there to
welcome him; if he plunge into the darkness of the profoundest
abyss, God's benignant agency is felt even there. If duty call him
to the extremest verge of the green earth, that same guiding hand
accompanies him, that same watchful Friend sustains'him. When
he fears lest the floods may overwhelm him, or insupportable darkness fall upon him, still the everlasting arms are underneath him,
and eternal light shines around him. When he awakes from a state
of temporary unconsciousness, and fears lest his Guardian has retired
into those depths where he can not trace Him, he still finds that
Guardian at his side, with all powers of tender protection and support. How should it be otherwise? - Inestimably dear are God's
thoughts toward him I In all the stages of his being, in all his varied experience, from the dawn of life in helpless infancy onward,
the Divine goodness has pursued him with unfaltering step; that
goodness has lavished upon him its boundless stores; the divine




THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH PSALM.   557
perfections have been, as it were, conspiring to mark him out as the
object of unceasing and exuberant favor.
From this Psalm various and impressive practical lessons may be
learned.
One of the most obvious and direct inferences is this; that meditation upon God's character, the intellectual contemplation of His atributes, should lead us to self-review and humiliation. This practical effect should not be confined merely to what are termed His
moral attributes. We may indeed consider abstractedly, and for
scientific purposes, certain aspects of His nature, certain modes of
His being, and denominate them natural or intellectual attributes.
But in reality His being is one and indivisible. His nature is not
separable into parts. All those states which we, on account of the
imperfection of language, term qualities or characteristics, really coexist and cohere; they are very inadequate symbols to express a
nature which is at once personal and boundless, a perfection whose
moral and intellectual excellences can no more be separated than the
exact edge or transition points in the colors of the rainbow. Such
is the uniform representation of the Scriptures. They never teach
us to gaze' upon these attributes as intellectual propositions. The
omniscience of God is a holy omniscience. The omnipresence of
God is the presence of spotless holiness and infinite love. The
power of God is the agent and executor of perfect holiness and righteousness. When, therefore, we look at any of the symbols of divine agency around us, the practical effect should be lowly adoration
and the deepest self-abasement. The moon, walking in her brightness, is the teacher of moral purity. The stars in their courses, with
sounds inaudible to our gross sense, whisper of the moral serenity
of that Being who appointed them their circuits. The gorgeous apparitions in the western evening sky prefigure a realm whose pure
light never fades away. All nature, all visible forms, all the
wondrous mechanism of sky and earth, all the depths of our physical and immortal nature, speak not simply of abstract power and
vast knowledge, nor simply of God's overflowing love, but, by the
law of contrast, by one of the most active principles of our nature,
they lead us to feel our own impurity, our own helplessness, the
fearful uncongeniality of our nature to that of Him with whom
we have to do. What are we, that we should be placed in the
midst of such glories? Why should defilement mar Divine purity?
Why should beings so corrupt, with hearts so inclined to evil, with
eyes blind to the moral beauty that is lavished all around, be per.
mitted to deface what they can not love and appreciate? " Search
me and try my heart; by the cleansing power qualify me to live in




558                 BELA B. EDWARDS.
a world radiant with the Divine perfections, to be an accepted w or.
shiper in the pure temple, and to meditate thoughtfully on Thy uncreated glories I" This should be the spontaneous exclamation of
every one who is permitted to turn aside and see this great sight.
Another remark on this Psalm is, that we discover in it a reason
why a portion of inspiration is communicated to us in the form of
poetry. It is not simply because it is more eloquent than prose, because figurative language makes a deeper and more vivid impression.
It is because it gives a truer and more adequate impression, because
it approaches nearer to the nature of the thing to be comprehended,
because it is less liable to present false or perverted conceptions.
The divine attributes are, in their nature, illimitable, and at the best
can be but partially and feebly apprehended. Yet those delineations
in the Scriptures are the most impressive, the most adequate, which
are the furthest removed from the language of common life, where
the illustrations are the least definite, the least measureable, the least
apprehensible by the mere understanding; those objects in the material universe being selected which can be represented only, as it
were, in outline, necessarily conveying the idea of an indefinite vastness, of an immeasurable depth, of unimagined velocity. There is
a sense, therefore, in which the best method of representation is the
most indefinite, the least cognizable by the mere intellect. We do
not discover truth, we do not feel its power, by the aid of one faculty alone. For this purpose we have the principle of faith, we have
the power of emotion, the faculty of imagination, all to be employed
in some form or another, in addition to the light of reason, in obtaining some conceptions of Him whom to know is refreshment to
the heart, support to the intellect, eternal life to the soul. The
mercy of the Lord is from eternity to eternity; the high and the
lofty One that inhabiteth eternity; whom the heaven of heavens
can not contain; who reigneth clothed in majesty; who has been the
dwelling-place of His servants in all generations; who walketh on
the wings of the wind; whose Spirit garnished the heavens; —these
and similar delineations, because of their indefiniteness, do actually
impart the most ennobling and satisfying conceptions of God. On
such subjects, that which is in the highest degree poetical is nearest the truth. Hence the Psalm which we have been considering
is one of the principal proof-passages for two or three of the attributes of the Almighty. Hence a main reason why the Hebrews,
and all who have enjoyed their poetry, sublimer beyond comparison
than any other, have attained to the purest and most spiritual conceptions of God.
I remark, again, that this subject is in the highest degree of a




THE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-NINTH  PSALM.   559
practical character. The attributes of God-His omnipresence and
omniscience, seem to be far away from us, to have little vital connection with our daily habits of thought and feeling. Yet they are attributes fruitful of application, topics overflowing with instruction.
We need such themes to correct the levity, the frivolous indifference which is so natural to us, the tendency to a superficial and conventional life, by which one is robbed of his birthright as a seriou
and meditative student in the vast field of religious truth. The frequent contemplation of those attributes would ennoble the mind,
would divest it of its degrading trivialities, would impart to it a
wholesome awe, would gradually reveal to it somewhat of the closeness and preciousness of the relations in which its stands to its
Creator and Redeemer.
Again, the longer one lives, provided his mental and moral
habits are in any measure correct, the more will he feel the depth of
his ignorance, the more will he see that he has as yet caught only a
glimpse of the fragments of truth, the less confidently will he speak
of the certainty of his knowledge, the profounder will be his consciousness that immeasurable tracts lie beyond his feeble ken, and
the more earnestly will he ask for that illuminating spirit that searcheth the dark things of God, the more grateful will he be that there
is an open door to One, in whom dwelleth all the fullness of wisdom.
Again, are we at any time solitary? Are we following the path
of duty in the furthest East, or the utmost West, where the sun
gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam flames on the Pacific
isles? Are we surrounded by untutored men, whom we are trying
to lead to the truth as it is in Jesus, and between whom and ourselves there can be but little communion?  How refreshing may be
the thought' that we are not withdrawn from the sovereign intelligence, that the very circumstances of our solitariness may widen and
shorten the channel of communication between us! Our souls may find
a present God as it would be impossible in a Christian land. The
everlasting arms may be around us in a sense never felt elsewhere.
So it may be in times of affliction, when the vanity of all earthly
supports is felt as a most melancholy reality; then the soul, detached from all other relief, may still sing, The Lord is my refuge, I
shall not want;-I will praise Thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;-made immortal and spiritual like Thee; made to sustain
conscious and most endearing relations to Thee made, wise by Thine
unsearchable wisdom; made happy in Thine immediate presence;
and destined to an everlasting progress toward that great luminary,
the faint irradiations of whose love now, in this distant world, are
my song in my pilgrimage.




DISCOURSE EIGHTIETH.
ALBERT B. DOD, D.D.
PROFESSOR DoD was born at Medham, Morris Co., New Jersey,
March 24th, 1805. His early studies were pursued at the Academy in
his native village, and at Elizabethtown, whither his parents had removed. He graduated at Princeton College in 1822, and spent the next
five years in private teaching. In 1827 he returned to Princeton, entering the Theological Seminary, and at the same time acting as tutor in the
College. Upon the completion of his theological course, in 1830, hae
was elected to the chair of mathematics in Princeton College. He also
lectured for some time on Architecture (for which he had a peculiar passion), and on Political Economy. Besides this, and performing the duties
of his department, he often preached, and contributed largely to the
pages of the "Biblical Repertory," or Princeton Review. Many of his
articles, particularly one on Capital Punishment, and a review of the
"Vestiges of Creation," were considered exceedingly able and conclusive. But his brilliant career was soon to close. The good fight of faith
was not to be prolonged. On the 20th of November, 1845, he was suminclied from the field of conflict and permitted "to hang up his armor in
the Master's hall, and take his crown." His remains now sleep in classic
ground, at the feet of Samuel Davies.
Professor Dod was for eighteen years a distinguished ornament of
the faculty of instruction in the venerable College at Princeton. As a
scholar, he was far in advance of most men at his age; as a Christian he
was pre-eminently a follower of Jesus Christ; and as a man of talents
he Lad few superiors. It was the testimony of one who had every opportunity of knowing him (Professor Charles Hodge, D.D.), that he was
undoubtedly one of the ablest men New Jersey has ever produced.
"His intellect," says this authority, "was so clear in its perceptions, so
vigorous and so rapid in its action, that he saw, as by intuition, what ordinary minds attain only by laborious examination." There was also a
remarkable blending of the several powers of the mind. " Never," said
one at the time of his death, " did I know an instance in which the
imagination and judgment were combined in such vast proportions



THE RESPONSIBILITY  OF MAN  FOR HIS BELIEF. 561
"'Where fancy halted, weary in her flight,
In other men, his, fresh as morning, rose,
And soared untrodden heights, and seemed at home
Where angels bashful looked.' "
As a teacher, the genius of Professor Dod enkindled the enthusiasm of
all who came under his instructious, and made him eminent in his profession. As a champion for the truth, he was earnest, able and successful
All his shining gifts and attainments were laid at the feet of Jesus. He
appeared before the public much more frequently as a literary and scientific man than as a preacher. But when speaking from the pulpit he
never failed tomcommand the most marked attention, and fix deep in the
mind the truth under discussion. He especially excelled in the clear presentation of the great practical truths of the Christian religion. Of this
remark we have an illustration in the sermon here given, which Dr.
Hodge has pronounced one of Professor Dod's ablest discourses. It has
never before been printed, and now appears, at our request, through the
kindness of a brother of the deceased, the Rev. William A. Dod, of
Princeton. The subject discussed is one of great importance, and the
discourse bears the marks of that acute intellect, exquisite taste, clear
analysis, and perspicuity of statement, for which the author was distinguished.
THE RESPONSIBILITY OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF.
" There is a way which seemeth right unto a man; but the end thereof are the ways
of death."-PROVERBS, xiv. 12.
The chief concern, and the most earnest effort of every rational
being, ought to be directed to the discovery of the right way through
life. With a heart naturally disposed to error, and surrounded by
influences which conspire to deceive and mislead him, no man can
hope to avoid ruinous and fatal mistakes, but by the continued exercise of the greatest watchfulness and care. The paths that lead to
destruction are many and broad; they stand wide open on every
side of us.; it requires no search to find, it costs no effort to enter
them. But the single way that leads to life eternal, is so strait, and
narrow, and difficult, that few there be that find it. All who do not
search diligently after it are sure to miss it; and what is still more
alarming, many shall seek to enter in and shall not be able. "There
is a way that seemeth right unto a man; but the end thereof are the
ways of death." It is possible that the search after truth may be so
* Rev. Ireanius Prime, D.D
36




562                  ALBERT B. DOD.
conducted as to end only in error; that the firmest conviction of
right may lead down to the chambers of death, and that a fixed assurance of safety may buoy up the heart, until the moment when it
is transfixed by the pangs of the second death.
This is unquestionably a most appalling truth. The man who is
traveling an intricate and dangerous road, though he have the unperverted use of all his faculties, and adequate means for determining the right way, is in a situation sufficiently alarming to task his
utmost caution. But how much more deplorable his condition if he
be liable to be smitten with blindness, or, worse still, to have his
eyes so disordered as to misread every guide-post that marks his
way, and his ears so perverted as to convert the sharp calls of warn
ing that sound around him, into the bland assurances of safety.
Even thus perilous is the situation of man in relation to his eter
nal destiny. Endowed by God with moral faculties capable of dis.
cerning the right way, and furnished with abundant means of infor
mation, he may so pervert the one, and neglect and abuse the other,
as to become involved in fatal delusions. With an elastic step and
a cheerful heart, without any fearful misgivings as to his course, he
may be traveling the road to destruction, and learn his mistake only
when it is too late to rectify it. Error may steal upon him under
the guise of truth. Wrong may assume to him the appearnce of
right; and evil be conscientiously pursued as good.
Such is the doctrine taught in our text, and abundantly confirmed
by other declarations of the Scriptures. We read of those whom a
deceived heart hath turned aside; who have turned the light that
was within them into darkness, and who, because they loved not the
truth, have been given over to strong delusions that they should believe a lie. The opinions which men entertain on moral subjects
are never treated in the Scriptures as a matter of indifference; nor
are they exempted from responsibility for the errors by which they
are misled. On the contrary the Bible frequently teaches and always assumes, that a right practice has its foundation only in a right
belief; that goodness can not exist independent of the truth, and
that every man is accountable for his opinions, no less than for his
outward conduct.
The Bible is on this, as on many other subjects, directly opposed
to the maxims and opinions most current in the world Who has
not met with the trite lines of the poet,' For modes of faith let graceloe zealots fight,
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right"




THE RESPONSIBILfTY OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF. 563
Who has not heard it said, with the air of confidence befitting a self.
evident axiom, " It is no matter what a man believes, so that his
practice be right?" How common is it for the most palpable and
egregious errors to be excused under the soft plea "that they who
hold them are sincere in their belief;" as if hypocrisy were the only
vice of which man is capable. It has been proclaimed to the world
as a great, a glorious truth, by one of the most distinguished among
modern orators and statesmen, that men are no more responsible for
their opinions than for the height of their stature, or the hue of
their skin I The same sentiment has found its way into professed
treatises on morals-it has been spread abroad on the pages of our
popular reviews. Poetry has embellished it with its charms, and
sophistry defended it by plausible arguments. We have even heard
it drop from the lips of Christian people, who did not seem to be
aware that the truth of the sentiment they were uttering is consistent
only with the falsehood of the religion they profess.
If this sentiment were intended to apply only in limitation of
man's responsibility to his fellow-man for his opinions, we should
have no quarrel with it. It is true that man is answerable for his
faith before no human tribunal. This truth has in these latter days
sounded abroad through the world, and the fires of persecution have
gone out before it, and the rusted implements of torture are now
hung up as the curious relics of a past age. That age can not
return. Never again can the rack be employed as an instrument of
conviction, or crowds assemble to laugh and exalt over the obstinate
believer slowly consuming at the stake. But I hesitate not to say
that better, yea far better, would it be for the world, that these detestible barbarities of religious zeal should be renewed, than that
men should be guarded against them by being taught to believe that
most monstrous of all errors, that error itself has no noxious quality,
and truth no holy prerogative. The return of the days of persecu.
tion for opinion's sake, would expose us to the mischievous conse.
quences of a single error-the general prevalence of the sentiment
under discussion, would open the flood-gates to all forms of error,
and among others to the very one which it aims to prevent. For if
all error be blameless, then may men innocently believe that they
ought to persecute with fire and sword all who differ from them in
opinion.
But it is not necessary to free men from responsibility to God, to
prevent the danger of persecution from man. Human law traverses
but a small portion of that vast field which is covered, in every part,
by the dominion of God. It has no right to intermeddle with any




564                  ALBERI B. DOD.
of our opinions or feelings, nor even to control any of our outward
acts, except so far as these are injurious to the peace and well-being
of society. This evident limitation of the right of man over his fellow-man, is the proper ground on which to rest the freedom of opinion. Here is ample room afforded to every one, when called in
question for his opinions, either by a magistrate or by an intermed
dling neighbor, to reply, " What is that to thee? to my own Master
I stand or fall."
It is plain that error may be thus excused before every human
tribunal, or rather exempted from its jurisdiction, upon grounds
which leave untouched the question of its accountableness before the
judgment-seat of God.
But the advocates for the innocence of error plead for it upon
principles, which exempt it from Divine, no less than human juris.
diction.
" A human being," they tell us, " can only be supposed accountable for those actions which are influenced by his will. But belief is
entirely distinct from, and unconnected with volition. It is the apprehension of the agreement or disagreement of the ideas which compose
any proposition. The mind can only believe according to evidence.
The will has no more power to withhold the assent of the mind
from a proposition proved to be true, than it has to prevent the sensation of sight when an object is placed before the eyes. Belief is
an involuntary state of mind, and as volition is essential to merit or
demerit, it can not be the proper object either of praise or blame."
Such is the substance of the arguments urged in behalf of the opinion
under discussion: and if these principles are correct, it certainly follows, not only that man can not be rightfully called upon to account
to man for his belief, but also that he has no such account to render
to God.
It can not be denied, and by some of its adversaries it is not concealed, that the opinion as thus stated and defended, is at direct
variance with the Scriptures. The contrariety between them is so
direct and palpable, that the adoption of the one necessarily implies
the rejection of the other. The Bible purports to be a messenger to
us from God, revealing His will and our duty; and the prophets and
apostles who come to us charged with the delivery of this message,
uniformly command us to receive it as the truth of God. They do
not confine themselves to the exhibition of the evidence which illustrates and proves the truth of their doctrines; they do not content
themselves with simply recommending the doctrines which they
teach, as worthy of credit and beneficial in their tendency; but they




THE RESPONSIBILITY OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF. 56o
distinctly command us, in the name and by the authority of God, to
believe and obey their words. " This is the commandment of God,
that we believe on the name of His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord."
They deliver their message as an authoritative exposition of the
truth-and instead of teaching that it may be rejected by any without guilt, they declare that the direst penalties will overtake all who
lare to disbelieve. " He that believeth not the Son shall not see.ife, but the wrath of God abideth on him."  " He that believeth not
shall be damned."
So far are they from teaching that belief is an involuntary and
therefore an irresponsible operation of mind, that they represent it as
the very criterion of moral character. Thus our Saviour said to the
Pharisees, "The publicans and harlots shall enter into the kingdom
of heaven before you, for ye believed not John the Baptist-but the
publicans and harlots believed him." If the responsibility of man for
his belief were a remote inference from the other plain doctrines of
the Holy Scriptures, we might suppose it doubtful, however clear
the reasoning might appear which seemed to establish it. If it
flashed upon us only dimly here and there as we turned the pages
of the Bible, we might question its real import; but it shines through
every page from beginning to end with a light too clear and steady
to be mistaken. Whether the doctrine itself be true or false, right
or wrong, may be matter of dispute-but it can not be doubted that
it is the doctrine of the Bible-nay, that it is one of the foundation
truths upon which Christianity rests. If this be removed, the whole
system must fall.
I shall attempt, therefore, to show that the declarations of the
Bible upon this subject, are in strict harmony with the course of
Divine Providence in the world-and with the laws of iight and
wrong written upon our hearts.
If sincerity of belief is all that is required for our future wellbeing, we should naturally expect to find the same law prevailing in
the administration of that government under which we now live. It
should, in this case, be matter of surprise to us that a man who is
honestly mistaken, should ever suffer any ill consequences because of
his error. And yet what is more evident than that the well-being
of every man in this life, is dependent upon his knowledge and belief of the truths which preside over his earthly lot, and determine
the conditions of his failure or success? The laws which govern the
course of human events have a real outward exister:~e, independent
of the conceptions which we form of them-and it is not upon the
sincerity, lSat the correctness of our belief in them, that our happiness




566                  ALBERT B. DOD.
or misery is dependent. It is not so much a deduction of reason, as
it is a fact of experience, that men are actually punished in this life
for the errors of judgment into which they are, from whatever cause,
betrayed. If through inattention, want of due reflection, or mere
willfulness, they are led to adopt erroneous opinions respecting the
conduct of life, they never fail to reap the ill consequences of their
error. This truth is daily exemplified before our eyes-and he is
happy man whose own experience does not furnish him with many
luminous illustrations of it. There is no man who has not learned
that his own convictions have no tendency to alter the substantial
nature of things around him, or to suspend, or modify, in the least
degree, the operation of those laws to which he has been made subject. These remain the same, retaining their intrinsic properties,
and working out their predestined results without any influence from
the mutable opinions of man. Though all men should believe that
the earth is fixed in space, as it appears to the sense, this belief
would not stay for a moment her swift motion in her orbit. The ancient philosopher who had persuaded himself that there was no external world, that these solid seeming realities around us, are but ap.
pearances or phantasms of the perceiving mind, and who in this aceount refused to get out of the way of what seemed to be a carriage
coming toward him, was crushed to death, notwithstanding the sincerity and strength of his conviction that there was no danger. He
who should swallow poison under the firm belief that it was wholesome food, would nevertheless find in death the penalty of his
mistake.
Does not the drunkard often continue to drain the deadly cup, on
the ground that it is necessary for his health? But when was it ever
found that this belief stayed the tremulousness of his hand, the bloating of his body, the wateriness of his eye, and the other signals
which suffering nature holds out, of present distress and approaching dissolution?
It must be evident to every man that we are placed in this world
under the dominion of laws, that coming from some higher source
than ourselves, remain fixed and immutable: that there are certain
truths easily discoverable, the knowledge of which is absolutely
essential to our existence-and that there are other truths, more
difficult of discovery, which we must know in order to gain the
highest good which is here within our reach. All things have been
so arranged as to hold out a boon for extensive and accurate knowledge, and to discourage ignorance and error under the severest pen.
alties of forfeiture and suffering. Under this aspect it is apparent




THE RESPONSIBILITY  OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF. 567
that the life we now lead is a life of faith. The knowledge and belief of the truth, is its vital principle.
Behold here the admirable harmony between the relation which
we see that we hold to the present life, and that which the Bible
reveals as connecting us with the life to come. Here is this world
with its sensible realities placed over against us-and it is upon the
correctness and apprehension of our belief of the pre-established
truths which are necessary to bring us into correspondence with it,
that our happiness, or misery, is dependent. In like manner Revelation assures us that there lies before us another world, where the
intrinsic nature of every object is as independent of our perceptions,
as here, and in which our condition will be determined by our belief or rejection of those truths which are necessary to our well-being.
Can- there be a doubt that it is the voice of the same Being that
speaks to us in the Bible, and in nature?
Certain it is, that whatever objection lies against the Bible because of its teaching the hard doctrine, that man is responsible for
his belief, lies with equal, nay, with greater force, against the notion
of a just and benevolent Creator. For we not only find in our experience that this doctrine is reduced to practice as an actual law,
governing our relation to the present world, but we find it enforced
with a strictness of rule and a severity of application which are not
claimed for it in the Bible. In the administration of the affairs of
the present life, ignorance and error are visited with suffering, even
in cases where they are strictly unavoidable. The man who, through
his unfavorable circumstances or the feebleness of his natural faculties, is unable to arrive at the knowledge of the truths which might
benefit him, is doomed no less than he who willfully rejects this
knowledge, to undergo the penalties and calamities which are inseparable from ignorance. This seeming hardship doubtless admits of
explanation-but explain it as you will, it still remains a fact, that
in the dispensation of the rewards and punishments of this life, man
is actually held to a closer responsibility for his belief, than we
charge him with in relation to another world.
If there be any here who are disposed to venture the salvation
of their soul upon the opinion that truth is of no importance except
in the sense of sincerity, let me warn them to make proof of the
efficacy of this opinion upon the world around them. Persuade
yourself that poison has no noxious property-and see whether this
persuasion will deprive it of its deadly character. Take a viper to
your bosom under the conviction that it is harmless and see whether
this conviction will extract or blunt its sting I Teach yourself tc




668                    ALBERT B. DOD.
believe that industry is not necessary to success in life, and see
whether this belief will shield you from the insignificance and privations which follow in the train of indolence I
If the real, substantial nature of things here, remains unchanged
by your opinions, what right have you to suppose that the realities
of another world will be more flexible? If error here is always
attended by calamitous results, upon what safe ground can you
judge that it will be harmless there? Reflect thoughtfully upon
this subject-and you will find in the observation and experience of
every day, abundant reason to fear, that there is a way that seemeth
right to a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death.
You may derive further confirmation of this alarming truth,
from an inspection of your own nature.
It is evident that the happiness of man was intended-to be derived chiefly from his own internal dispositions.  External circumstances are but secondary and inferior sources of enjoyment or
suffering. In the heart itself is hid the secret fountain which
refreshes or saddens us with its sweet or bitter waters. We can
conceive of a heart so filled with pure affections, so informed with
knowledge and strengthened with love, so thoroughly fortified by
acquiescence
"In the will Supreme
For time and for eternity; by Faith,
Faith absolute in God, including Hope,"
and the defense that lies in boundless love of his perfections,
that the darts of anguish, though they may strike upon that
heart and wound it, can not fix a rankle there. Upon the ruin of
all its expectations such a heart may gaze with subdued calmnessthrough all the disasters of life it may pass untroubled, or at least,
"With only such degree of sadness left,
As may support longings of pure desire;
And strengthen love, rejoicing secretly,
In the sublime attractions of the grave."
So, too, we can conceive of a heart so weak that it can withstand
the presence of no external evil —so ignorant that, in the blank and
solitude of things, it is robbed of all enjoyment-so depraved that
in the midst of all external advantages it is preyed upon by hatred,
malice, envy, and all disturbing passions; it is within the compass
of moral excellence to produce the one of these states-and the
other does not transcend the capabilities of vice. The obvious
tendency of virtue, in whatever degree it be cultivated, is to pro.




THE RESPONSIBILITY  OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF. 669
duce happiness; and vice, by an equally obvious and indissoluble
connection, is the parent of misery. The man who disobeys his
reason, or violates his conscience, in his search after happiness,
grasps at a good at the expense of the very appetite which is to
relish it. To injure his moral nature is to waste and wear away his
only capability of happiness. If we take the constitution of man
to pieces, as we would a watch or other piece of mechanism, to ascertain the object for which it was constructed, we see evident marks
in every part that virtue was the end for which its Maker designed
it. And if we then inquire further, how this end is to be gained,
that is, how men are to become virtuous, we find equally strong reasons for concluding that it can only be through a belief of the truth.
The essence of virtue consists in its principle; and every moral
principle has its root in truth. Error may be productive of some
partial and transient good, as when a crying child is stilled, or a
refractory one frightened into obedience, by a belief in some nursery
fiction: but no one doubts that this trivial good is purchased at a
lamentable sacrifice. Every honest man knows that whenever he
uses deception and falsehood to promote even a good end, he is sacrificing the law of reason to the dictates of a low and short-sighted
policy, and that he gains his end only as he would gain the sword
which he should purchase with the loss of the arm that is to wield
it. Truth is the only agency by which a principle of good can be
implanted and nourished, in our own hearts, or in others. It is as
inseparable from virtue as virtue itself is from happiness. In all
our modes of education, and our attempts to improve the character
of individuals or communities, we proceed upon this principle. We
never think of working a permanent good in any other way than
by instilling the truth; nor do we ever dream that error would answer our purpose equally well, if we could only succeed in making
it pass for truth. Any man would spurn the shameless effrontery
of the scorner, who should tell him that the good of society and of
its individual members, would be equally well promoted by teaching them to lie, and steal, and murder, provided we could only persuade them that these things were right. That men can be elevated
in their moral character, or in any way benefitted by being taught to
receive error as truth, is as monstrous an absurdity and as palpable
a contradiction to all the lessons of experince, as can be conceived.
Man is so made as to be swayed to good only by the Truth. His
moral nature can not respond to any other influence.
If we have not misinterpreted the nature of man, we have, then,
in his structure, not a presumptior mraerely, but an indubitable proof




570                   ALBERT B. DOD.
of his responsibility for his belief. His happiness, whether In this
world or the next, must depend upon his own moral character-and
this character can be framed and molded to good only through the
inward workings of truth upon his heart. If any preparation of
heart be necessary to fit man for dwelling in the presence of a holy
God, and rejoicing in the intuition of this glory, he can obtain it only
through the belief of such truths as are fitted to work within him the
transformation needed. To assert that sincerity will give to error
the transforming efficacy of truth, is to give the lie to our own nature no less distinctly than to the Bible. Look into your own hearts,
my hearers, and you will find there, in its manifest adaptations to
the truth, strong reasons for placing your faith in that revelation
which is distinguished from all other books pretending to Divine inspiration, by its frequent and strong recommendations of truthwhich exalts truth as the crown, and honor, and glory of a man, and
lays it upon him as one of its most sacred duties, to seek after it as
for hid treasure, and which represents the perfection and final bliss of
the glorified spirit as a direct aspect and intuitive beholding of truth
in its pure and immutable Source. And you will at the same time
learn to reject the dangerous tolerance which looks with equal regard, or rather with equal indifference upon all opinions, principles,
and persuasions; which is utterly careless toward all truth; which
could join with equal satisfaction in the becoming and reverent solemnities of Christian worship, or in the imposture, lust, and blood
of heathen orgies; which recognizes no difference between the truths
which teach the Christian widow to turn her eye from the corpse of
her husband, upward to his and her Redeemer, and then devote herself to rearing with pious care the children who henceforth are to
her as flowers blooming upon the father's grave, and the remorseless
creed which goads the disconsolate victim to burn on the funeral pile
of her husband, leaving the orphan pledges of their love to struggle
with the hardships from which a parent's care should have shielded
them. Such tolerance can come only from the unthinking and
senseless cant of fashion, or the deadly narcotic of moral and religious indifference. It proceeds upon an assumption which is false in
fact, and dishonoring alike to the reason of man, and the truth of
God. It is impossible that a soul into which this viperous error has
crept should avoid being benumbed, paralyzed, and destroyed by its
subtile poison.
The argument, thus far, has attempted to establish it as a truth,
that man is responsible for his belief, from the fact that he is actually
held thus responsible in the affairs of this life, and from the consid



THE RESPONSIBILITY OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF. 571
eration that his constitution has been so formed as to render it impossible that error, however sincerely believed, could subserve for
him the beneficial purposes and ends of truth.
We see, with our bodily eyes, that error is actually attended by
suffering in the present life. From the day in which Eve, beguiled
by the tempter, believed that the forbidden fruit was good for food,
and to be desired to make one wise, until now, no one has ever list
ened to the serpent voice of error, without suffering, in some degree,
from its serpent fang. Behold, in this, the decision of the question
under discussion, at the bar of Divine providence.
And again, we find that the moral nature of man, which contains
within it the springs of his well-being, has been so constituted that
it is inaccessible to any other influence for good than that which
dwells in the truth-and that, as our conceptions have no tendency to
alter the real nature of truth and error, or transmute their intrinsic
qualities, the good or ill effect of our belief must of necessity depend,
not upon the sincerity of our convictions, but upon their correspondence with absolute truth. The heart from which bitter waters are
welling up has been so made that it can be sweetened only by the
leaves of truth. You may cast into this fountain other branches, but
you will find, in the end, that instead of purifying its waters, you
have only depraved the appetite which tastes them.
Behold, in this, the decision of the same question by our Creator,
in the day when He said " Let us make man in our own image."
And here, having gathered up the concurrent testimony of Nature, Providence, and Grace-of our Creator, our Ruler. and our Redeemer-all declaring, in no doubtful terms, that man is accountable
for his belief, we might safely leave the matter.
But I may be called upon to vindicate the justice of this doctrine,
as well as to establish its truth. This opens a wide field into which
we can now enter only for the purpose of laying down, as briefly as
may be, the principles which are to guide the investigation.
It is contended that the doctrine which we maintain contradicts
our elementary notions of right, since belief is an involuntary operation of mind, and volition is essential to merit or demerit. The principles upon which this objection rests, contain, like all dangerous
error, enough of the semblance of truth to make them deceptive.
No lie can be dangerous unless it be the ghost of some truth. But
it is not difficult, in this case, to detect and expr)e the fallacy. It is
true that volition is a necessary constituent of the n orality of all our
outward acts, because, without a preceding determin.tion of the will,
thev would not be our acts S9 far, ti e p-inciple is true. Its fal.




572                  ALBERT B. DOD.
lacy lies in extending the same law to our internal affections. It Is
not true, that any distinct act of the will is necessary to impart the
character of morality to an internal state or disposition of heart. For
the proof of this I need only to refer you to the testimony of your
own consciousness. You can not resist the conviction that you are
responsible for the feelings which prevail within you, no less, nay
more, than for -the outward acts to which they lead. Nor can you
have failed to observe that these feelings rise and fall, come and depart, often without any direct action of your will upon them. You
hate one man, and you love another-not because you have, )y an
act of will, called these affections into being, but because you have
received in their respective characters those qualities which are fitted
to awaken these different feelings. You hate that which seems to
you hateful, and you love that which appears lovely; and no act of
the will can impart these qualities to the objects which appeal to
your affections. It is contended that belief can not possess any moral
character, because, when we have arrived at the end of any proposition, we can not help deciding according to the evidence before us.
An act of the will can not add to the evidence on either side, any
more convincing efficacy than intrinsically belongs to it.
But is not this equally true of our affections? Where any object
is presented to the affections, can an act of the will change its apparent qualities so as to make that lovely which is intrinsically adapted
to excite our aversion? The consciousness of every man tells him
that he can not help loving that which seems to him lovely, any
more than he can help believing that which seems to him true, and
that his will has no more power to change the qualities which excite
his affections, than it has to alter the evidence which controls his belief. If, then, his affections possess a moral character, which no one
denies, why may not his belief? If it do not, it must be for some
better reason than its independence of volition.
But it will be said that our affections, though not directly under
the control of volition, are nevertheless voluntary. The exercise of
them is the spontaneous acting out of our nature; it is with the consent and concurrence of all our active powers.
In this sense of the word, we admit that no act or state of the
mind can merit either praise or blame unless it be voluntary; and,
in this sense of the word, we deny that the belief of moral truth is
an involuntary operation of mind. The belief of truths that are accompanied by demonstrative evidence possesses, we admit, no more
moral character than an act of perception. The mind comes to its




THE RESPONSIBILITY OF MAN FOR HIS BELIEF. 578
decision under the same kind of necessity that compels us to see an
object when placed before our eyes.
But the case is evidently different with moral truths. Here, too,
the belief must be according to the evidence perceived, but the convincing power of this evidence, like the attractive qualities of the
objects that address our affections, depends upon the moral state of
the heart. If it be urged here that the responsibility ought, in this
case, to be shifted from the erroneous belief to the wrong state of
heart from which it proceeds, I answer that I can see no reason for
this transfer which would not apply with equal force to induce us, in
many cases, to make a similar transfer from one affection or act to
the belief which led to it. Suppose a man, under the influence of
avarice, to wish, in the first instance, for the death of some one,
whose death would be his gain; and then to bring himself to the
conviction that it was right for him to remove him; and then to perpetrate the murderous deed;-why should we, in this case, charge the
criminality of his wrong conviction upon the avarice which prompted it, rather than the sin of the murder upon the antecedent persuasion that it was right for him to commit it? I know of no principle
by which we can select any one of this series of acts, and say,
"' Here lies all the blame." The avarice was wrong, the murderous
wish was wrong, the erroneous belief was wrong, and the assassin.
blow was wrong. The wrong conviction was as voluntary a state
of mind as the criminal passion, in the only sense in which voluntariness is essential to accountability.
Men judge thus habitually, in all matters where religion is not
in question. They would not hesitate to condemn the man who
should avow his belief that it was right for him to steal or commit
murder, and you could hardly put a plainer affront upon their moral
sense, than by telling them that the man ought to be held free from
all blame until he has carried his belief out into act. The Bible is,
in this respect, so far from contradicting our natural sentiments of
right, that it harmonizes exactly with them. The voice of conscience
joins with the voice of God in condemning all erroneous belief
which arises from a corrupt state of heart.
The only question, then, for debate in connection with this subject, is whether the truth which is declared to be necessary for our
salvation is accompanied with sufficient evidence to satisfy every
rightly-disposed mind. This question I shall not now discuss, but
content myself with referring you, when you ought to be content to
receive your answer, to the decision of Him who made the human
mmd, ani who knows what degree of evidence is necessary to fix




574                  ALBERT B. DOD.
upon it the responsibility of error. The Bible affirms that the rejee
tion of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, or the perversion of its truths
can have its origin only in an evil heart, and is therefore a proper
and just reason for God's condemning sentence. "I He that believeth
on the Son of God is not condemned; but he that believeth not is
condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the
only-begotten Son of God. And this is the condemnation, that
light is come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than
light, because their deeds are evil."
Let me then, in conclusion, urge you, my hearers, as you value
the purity and salvation of your souls, to study, revere, love, and
obey the truth. And the truth shall make you free; free from the
thralldom of corrupt desires and passions; free to rise above the
tumults and cares of this lower world; free to look upon the face of
Jesus and call Him your Friend and Brother; free to partake of the
Divine nature and drink of the river of God's pleasures.
But remember, too, that if holiness is dependent upon truth, your
power of perceiving the truth is no less dependent upon your purity
of heart. Every evil affection pours its bedimming vapors around
your understanding; every sin you commit blunts your power of
moral perception, and involves you in danger of error. And if you
continue willfully to sin, after you have received the knowledge of
the truth, the light that God has given you will go out in darkness,
and sparks of your own kindling will encompass you, and light you
on your path to destruction. You shall lose your way, but you will
think yourself right: your feet shall stumble upon the dark mountains, but you will fancy yourself walking in a smooth or level path;
thick clouds shall gather over you, but to your eye they will take the
form of the castle and battlements of heaven; until at length your
wanderings shall bring you to the verge of this world, and the awful
plunge awake you to truth and to misery. "Because they received
not the love of the truth, that they might be saved, for this cause
God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie;
that they all might be damned who believe not the truth, but had
pleasure in unrighteousness."




at:
i lo
Curc
0-6-0.








THE WELSH PULPIT.,
THERE is reason to believe that from the earliest times Christianity
has existed in Wales. It is even claimed that Claudia, who was converted under Paul's ministry, was a native of Wales, and that coming
from Rome in the year 63, she scattered the " seed of the kingdom" in
her own country. A little more than a century later, Faganus and
Daminicanus, who also had been converted in Rome, began to preach to
their countrymen in Wales; and through their preaching, Lucius the
king, was brought to embrace Christianity. Under the reign of Diocletian, the Welsh Christians suffered much from persecution; and many
were put to death. Subsequent disasters threatened the entire extinction of the Christian religion; but through the labors of Gildas, Dyfrig,
Dynawt, Tell, Padran, Pawlin, and others, it survived among the hills
of Cumrey. The Welsh resisted the encroachments of popery in the
seventh century, and more than a thousand, many of whom were ministers, suffered in the struggle. But the adherents of the true faith were
overcome, and, driven to the mountains, we hear nothing of them till
the time of the Reformation.
About the year 1385, Walter Brute, a disciple of Wickliffe, returned
from Oxford where he had been pursuing his studies, and commenced
the work of reform among his countrymen in Wales. Preaching in
the streets, in the houses, and in the markets, he soon became a noted
reformer; and great was his success. Although severely persecuted,
and once tried for heresy, he triumphed over his accusers, and was
cheered by the conversion to his views of several of the Romish clergy.
Revivals occurred in the cloisters, and not a few monks came forth to
proclaim against popery; while on every hand the Lord made his work
to progress. In 1580, John Penry, an Episcopal minister, dissented
from the Established Church, and became a Baptist. He was a man of
liberal education and of fine talents; and became widely popular as a
preacher. After prosecuting his ministry with great success for more
than seven years, he died a martyr. He is said to have been the first
Baptist minister in Wales after the Reformation. In 1620, Erbury and
Worth followed the example of Penry, and preached with wonderful
sunction and effect. In 1635 they were ejected from their parishes; but,
37




578                THE WELSH  PULPIT.
nothing daunted, they went from valley to valley, and mountain to
mountain, preaching the word, and organizing churches.
During the ministry of Erbury and Worth, arose " that morning star
of the Baptist churches in Wales" —Vavasor Powell. He was a man of
great eloquence and power; and thousands pressed to his ministry,
many of whom were converted to Christ. Under the fearful persecutions of Charles II. of England, when the Baptists of Wales suffered
beyond description, Powell was cast into thirteen different prisons. He
died in 1670. Cotemporary with him, were many faithful laborers in
Wales, among whom were John Myles, and the noted Roger Williams,
who afterward came to America. After the death of Powell and his
coadjutors, the work of God declined, and for a century made but little
or no progress. It was by the trumpet-tongued eloquence of Charles
Bala, "the apostle of North Wales," and of Howell Harris, and Lewis
Rees, and Daniel Rowlands, and William Williams, and others, in the
time of Wesley and Whitfield, that the churches were again aroused
and some of the most blessed revivals ever known, took place. Great
were the zeal and activity of these men, and everywhere the hand of
the Lord was revealed with power, through the preaching of the word.
Shortly afterward the celebrated Christmas Evans appeared, and by his
eloquence and zeal, awakened a profound sensation throughout the principality. Along with his, stand many names worthy to be had in remembrance; such as David Charles and John Elias, and Williams of
Wern, and Samuel Breeze, and T. Jones, and E. Jones, and Titus Lewis,
and Benjamin Davies, and Jas. Harris, and D. Evans, and M. Thomas,
and J. Jenkins, and J. Davis, and Morris Jones, and Rees Jones, and
many others, of whom it has been said that every one of them was a
host.
These men formed a constellation of preachers in Wales, during the
first quarter of the present century, such as has scarcely been excelled
in any country or time. They were nearly all self-made men, and men
of prayer, and of faith, whose earnest, affectionate, and glowing utterances went with power to the hearts of the multitudes who hung upon
their lips. Their names and labors, however, seldom reached beyond
their own loved hills and valleys, and posterity must content itself with
very few written accounts concerning their pious deeds, and still fewer of
their pulpit productions. At their death they left few successors in the
ministry, of equally brilliant talents; but yet there are few countries where
the pulpit exerts a more powerful influence than in Wales. Of this, the
religious habits of the people are a sufficient proof. It has often been
remarked that there is nothing in England, or in any other country, to
compare with the religious life of this remarkable people: The leading
religious denominations in Wales, are the Calvinistic Methodists, the
Baptists, the Independents, and the Wesleyan Methodists. There are
also some smaller religious denominations. The relative number of




THE WELSH  PULPIT.                       579
preachers, we are not able to give, owing to the want of reliable statis
tics. From the last census of Great Britain, it appears that there are
eight hundred twenty-eight places of worship (and probably about this
number of ministers), occupied by the Calvinistic Methodists. There
are nearly four hundred Baptist churches, and about the same number
of ministers.
The pulpit of Wales exhibits many striking peculiarities. Preaching
partakes of the natural characteristics of the people; which characteristics seem to be impressed by the surrounding material objects and the
face of the country. The crag, the cliff, and the lonely glen; the heath,
the lake, and the mountain; the "mist rolling up the hill-side, the
mournful gust sweeping over its brow, and the thundering brawl of the
cataract," are objects with which the people of Wales are familiar from
their birth. Add to this that they are of Celtic origin, and, therefore,
highly impressible, and in love with the imaginative, the gorgeous, and
the poetic, and we are prepared to anticipate the leading characteristics
of Welsh preaching-not depth, argument, method-but warmth, imagery, comparison, illustration, and passionate appeal.
The following outline of the prominent features of the Welsh pulpit,
is condensed from an interesting sketch, found in the " Life of Rev. William Williams," of Wern, by Rev. James Rhys Jones. It is especially:pplicable to the highest order of Welsh preachers.
Self-possession is a striking characteristic.  Welsh ministers enjoy very favorable opportunities for acquiring this enviable, invaluable
power. With the exception of those settled in towns and populous
localities (and they are often relieved by strangers, for itinerating is not
yet out of fashion), they are not required to preach so often to the same
people as their English brethren. A thin and scattered population compels them to be pluralists; and as their chapels lie sufficiently distant
from each other to admit of their preaching the same sermon twice on
the same day, increased confidence is necessarily gained, as a discourse
will be delivered the second and third time with greater freedom and
boldness than the first.
The acquisition of self-command is further facilitated by frequent
engagements at public meetings, of which there is no lack in Wales, and
also by the practice of taking preaching tours, when the ministers
almost invariably preach the same sermons. They thus become so sure
of their ground by going over it so repeatedly, and so accustomed to
address large miscellaneous congregations in the opefl air and elsewhere
that they are not easily disconcerted.
Adaptation is another characteristic of Welsh preaching. The
generality of the sermons preached, bear evident marks of having been
composed in view of the real exigences and capacities of the people for
whom they were intended. Speculative views and refined disquisitions
are not allowed to pass in lies of evangelical sentiments and Scriptural




580                THE WELSH  PULPIT.
statements. Those aspects of truth with which plain people can not be
expected to have much sympathy are seldom, if ever, presented before
an audience. Points of established and prevalent belief are wisely left
undisturbed. Matters unto which ordinary minds'can not attain' are
not brought down from their elevation. The illustrations employed are
drawn from incidents, scenes, and occupations with which the parties
for whose instruction they were borrowed are supposed to be intimately
acquainted.
The style is simple and homely —for the preacher feels no pleasure
and finds no interest in employing words which the people do not understand. The appearance and manner of the Welsh preacher are
admirably adapted to secure for him a candid hearing. He stands before his audience more as a friend than an official. The people feel that
he is of them, and with them, and that their interests are one and undivided. In general he is a plain-dressed and plain-spoken man. To the
refined he may appear unceremonious and blunt, if not even deficient in
courtesy: but he is never effeminate, finical, or affected. He may be
rough but he is ever manly. His is not the strutting gait and mincing
enunciation; and he is about the last man in the world to be concerned
about the appearance of his drapery when his subject has warmed him
into eloquence.
Another very prominent feature in Welsh preaching is the prevalence of the illustrative style. But here the preacher must battle, as
best he can, with the difficulties arising from the limited range of objects from which his illustrations are to be drawn. The people that
flock to hear him know nothing of the arts and sciences. Sealed to
them are the languages containing the wealth of history. The pages
of nature's book are opened before them, and she has issued some of
her works in Wales in so large a style that'the reader may run through
them.' Rocks and mountains are characters she has frequently employed. And it is nature with her varied appearances, together with
the ordinary pursuits and avocations of life, that the preacher must lay
under contribution if he would expound'the things which are not seen
by the things which are seen.' Let it not, however, be supposed that
they cultivate the imagination to the neglect of their other faculties, or
that they allow themselves to be carried away by its witchery into the
regions of improbability and fiction. With rare exceptions the imagination is employed as the handmaid of the reason and judgment, and
restricted pretty closely to its own legitimate and proper province which
is to illustrate. What logic is exclusively to a cold unimpassioned math
ematical mind, that is imagination subordinately to the Welsh preacher.
The unpoetical reasoner arrives at conclusions by means of a series of
therefores, as stepping-stones —the Welshman establishes his points by
an apt illustration.
Great aptness is also displayed in interpreting and turning to prao




THE WELSI  PULPIT.
tical account the facts and historical parts of Scripture. The nalratives
and facts of the Bible are treated as the exponents of principles and
the expositors of human nature. The doctrinal part of the sacred volume is illustrated by means of its recorded incidents. Circumstances, and
events which had suggested no useful lessons to less reflective minds are
so expounded that they become'profitable for doctrine, for reproof; for
correction, for instruction in righteousness.' The people are made to
see how the'things which were written aforetime were written for their
learning.'
If there was any one thing, more than another, in which the celebrated Williams, of Wern, excelled as a preacher, it was in the novelty
and pertinence of his illustrations. Never, perhaps, since the days of
the Great Teacher, did any preacher lay the objects of nature and the pursuits of men under greater contributions for the exposition and enforcement of religious truth. All things seemed to whisper something to
him which had never been disclosed before, and to point out for his occupation new and highly advantageous points of observation. Some men
appear to examine the same objects always from the same spots, and
hence the sameness of their reflections; but Williams seemed to look at
every thing from unfrequented points that commanded fresher and
bolder views. Every object in nature-every human avocation-every
incident in life seemed to have fastened on it some new and striking
truth. To simplify rather than embellish a subject was his great aim,
and hence the rejection of mere flowers, and the employment of only
expository images. His mind was of too masculine a cast, and too solemnly pledged to a usefulness in all pulpit engagements, to admit of his
dallying with the mere ornaments of oratory. His use of comparisons
was sufficient to convince any one that he attached no value whatever
to them, except so far as they subserved the explanation or application
of truth. Unlike certain showy but weak-minded preachers, who are so
enamored of tinsel and glare that they often employ even religious
truths only as pegs on which to suspend a fine simile, he, on the contrary, with almost instinctive severity of taste, allotted to figures only a
subordinate department in expounding the great verities of the Bible.
Passion is another feature in Welsh preaching. This capital quality, so necessary to effective speaking, is quite natural to a genuine Celt.
An unimpassioned Welshman is a singular phenomenon; and when he
is cold as well might a spark be elicted from an icicle. He will not
stop short of the freezing point. The usually ignitible temperament of
the Cambrian preacher is of signal service to him in addressing an audience. It gives an air of unmistakable earnestness and of reality to
all he says. Words of import so momentous that an angel might well
tremble as he uttered them, are not pronounced listlessly and allowed
to drop like snow from his lips. It makes his'thoughts breathe and his
words burn.' It is this which produces, and renders appropriate, the




582                 THE WELSH  PULPIT.
bold burst, the abrupt apostrophe, the glowing description, the pas
sionate declamation, the burning invective, the rousing appeal, and
the impetuous thundering, charge. It was his tremendous passion, in
conjunction with a peerless imagination, that gave Christmas Evans so
much power over a congregation. To see his huge frame quivering
with emotion, and to watch the lightning flash of his eye-that lustrous
black eye of which Robert Hall said it would do to lead an army through
a wilderness-and to listen to the wild tones of his shrill voice as he
mastered the difficult prosopopeia, was to feel completely abandoned to
the riotous enthusiasm of the moment. Abstractions, dry as the bones
which Ezekiel saw of old in the valley, he could clothe with sinews,
flesh, and skin, and, breathing life into them, make them stand on their
feet. Of scenes enacted centuries ago in the glens and on the hills of
Judea, his fire and fancy enabled him to furnish so vivid a representation that all sense of the distance, both of time and place, was entirely
lost; and though he was frequently guilty of the grossest anachronisms,
yet so admirably sustained were the parts assigned to the different characters, and so life-like and natural were the sentiments put into their
mouths, that the discrepancy, however glaring, did not damage the
effect. So genuine was the fire that burned within him, and so completely did he throw the whole of his impassioned soul into his descriptions, that even the fastidious critic was'taken captive' and compelled
to become his admirer.
The delivery of a Welsh sermon is usually marked by great variety
of intonation. The ear is entertained while the mind is informed. The
charms of sound secure a hearing for sense. The attention of an audience is sustained to the close of a discourse without weariness or flagging, as the speaker's tones are constantly varying with the varying
aspects of his theme. Welsh ministers need not have any fears that
mellifluous and varied sounds will be thrown away upon a people devoted like their countrymen to melody and song. And so sensible are
they of the value of a well-trained voice to a public speaker, that they
pay particular attention to its improvement.
The Welsh preacher, in his expository approach to the selected
topic of discourse, is in general cool and collected, and speaks in a quiet
and somewhat low tone of voice. As he advance in his sermon and
fairly gets into the " hwyl" he nearly exhausts the variations of the gamut. Now there is the shrill, startling alarm-and then the deep, sepulchral tones of solemnity. Now we have the dash of defiance-the shout
of triumph-the dance of joy-and then the tremulous accents of tenderness-the earnest tones of remonstrance, and the muttering of the
thundering denunciation. Now we have the plaintive melancholy of
bereavement's soliloquy —the wail of sorrow, and the cry of despairand then the wild ecstatic notes of the Christian pilgrim, as with the
tear in his eye, he sings of the dawning of the morn that will set him in




THE WELSH  PULPIT.                      5S3
heaven's bowers of repose. Now we have the loud voice rending the
sky and awakening the echo-and then the'small still voice' and the
whisper of confidence. In short there is all the variety both of manner
and tone that disinterested love or friendship would employ in private
in attempting to dissuade a person from pursuing a suicidal course, or to
persuade him to follow after things in harmony with the tremendous
destiny of an immortal creature.
The appeals of a Welsh preacher are in general of the most uncompromising character. They are not frittered away by apologetic
disclaimers of'this, that, and the other.' They come with the suddenness and disclosing glance of the lightning, and with the terribleness of
thunder. Sometimes the preacher holds before his congregation a picture which he has been painting, and while they are wrapt in silent admiration of its fidelity and beauty, there comes to many a conscience the
rapier thrust of' Thou art the man.' No one knows where to look for
the application, for it is not confined to the close of a discourse. There
is nothing to indicate the direction from which the preacher may come,
or in what way he will make his attack; and nothing in the nature of
the subject chosen for discussion, or in the manner of illustrating it, that
offers security against his onsets.
We close this sketch of the Welsh pulpit with the remark, that
Wales has given to the American churches many of their very best
preachers, and most active, influential minds. Saying nothing of the
great apostle of religious liberty in this Western world-ROGER WIIe
LIAMs-nor of many others now gone, it were easy to form a long list
of distinguished names of American clergymen, who are, either by imr
migration or descent, Welshmen.




bI OUUS  EI GHTY.FIRST,
DAVID CHARLES.
THIs well known Calvinistic Welsh preacher was born October 11,
1752, in the parish of St. Clears, south of Wales. He was a brother of
the distinguished " Charles of Bala." During his apprenticeship as a
flax-dresser, he committed to memory the whole of Young's "Night
Thoughts."  About the year 1780 he went to Bristol, where he did
much to improve his education, and deepen his religious feelings. On
his return, after three years, he set himself up in business, and although
his gifts for exhortation and prayer soon attracted attention, he was not
induced to enter the ministry until forty years of age. The paucity of
preachers rendered it necessary that he should travel, and he labored,
for a time, chiefly in the English parts of Caermarthenshire, Pembrokeshire, and Glamorganshire. In 1828 a stroke of apoplexy deprived him,
to a great extent, of the use of his bodily and intellectual powers. He
remained speechless for six years, and died on the 2d of September,
1834. He belonged to the Methodist connection.
Rev. W. Rees in his life of "Williams of Wern," speaks of David
Charles as possessed of "knowledge, and evangelical experience, of
eagle-like powers of penetration, of pure and exalted taste, and of sentiments transcendentally beautiful. His sermons in print," he adds, "are
like apples of gold in pictures of silver. In delivering them, the preacher
was as if he opened a mine of pearls before his hearers, digging them
out gradually, one by one." The eminent Ebenezer Morris, having
heard him preach, declared that he had no heart to attempt to preach
again. Christmas Evans says in one of his letters, "Mr. Charles was
notable among divines; in reperusing his sermons, I feel holy sparks
emanating from him, as from a great star, and melting the frost of my
soul."  We have read most of his sermons which have been translated,
and select the following as a happy specimen.
CHRIST ALL, AND IN ALL.
"But Christ is all, and in all." —CoLOSS&NS, iii 11.
If it be inquired, What is Christ? the answer is, Christ is allHe is all things, and nothing less. If it be asked, Where is Christ?




CHRIST ALL AND IN ALL.                  585
He is in all. Nature, without God, is nothing, is a nonentity; and
so also the moral universe, without Christ, is nothing, and worse than
nothing.
Christ is s" in all" nature as God; He made all things. " By Him
were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth,
visible and invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or prin.
cipalities, or powers; all things were created by Him, and for Him;
and He is before all things, and by Him all things consist, and He is
the head of the Church."  "Thou, Lord, in the begining hast laid
the foundation of the earth; and the heavens are the work of Thine
hands."  " Without Him was not any thing made that was madein Him was life." If you ask creation, in any of its parts, What
art thou? the answer of each is, " I am what I was made; I have
nothing in me but what was made; He that made me is'in all' that
I am; God, in His work, is in me, and in all that I am." So Christ,
as God, is "in all" creation. The heavens declare His "glory."
We see Christ in all things, as a certain queen, while inspecting the
wonders of Solomon's court, saw Solomon himself, and his wisdom,
in all things. If we see aright, when we look around us, we see
Christ, as God, in every object.
Christ, as Mediator, is in all of salvation-He is all, and in all.
He became bound for His Church in the everlasting covenant. He
made promises "before the world began"-a promise of propitiation
to the Father, and of " eternal life" to His brethren. "In hope of
eternal life, promised before the world began." Life to man could
not be promised without an equally firm promise that man's debt
should be paid. Men were given to Christ to be saved to eternal
life, and His engagement on account of their offenses was accepted.
They were in a lost condition, under the curse of the law, and an
atonement was promised by a party that could be trusted on their be.
half. "By the blood of Thy covenant I have sent forth Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water." Christ was all in this
matter —none but Him could promise, and none but Him could perform. When the fullness of time came, and on coming into the
world, He says, " Lo, I come to do Thy will, 0 God."  " I delight to
do Thy will, 0 my God; yea, Thy law is within My heart." He
came into the world: for what? to be greatly honored in the world?
No; but " to do Thy will 0 My God,"-to suffer dishonor, anct contempt and persecution; to be spit upon, and to die a disgraceful
death. Lo, I come into the land of poverty, and of suffering, it is
the will of My Father that I should be found in the way of the
wants of My people, and Mly steps will produce an effect in their




586                DAVID CHARLES.
favor. Lo, I am come into Thy vineyard. 0 justice; where is thy
work? I will do it-I will finish it, so that nothing will remain to be
done by My followers, but obedience and love, and gratitude to Myself. I will magnify Thee in Thy commands by obedience to them,
and in Thy curses by suffering, until Thou art made eternally
glorious, until the righteous Lord is satisfied, and until He will call
unto Thee in reference to every believing sinner, " Deliver him from
going down to the pit: I have found a ransom." Christ is all in
this work; His humanity was all the sacrifice, His divine nature all
the altar, and His person all the priest. "By His own blood He
entered into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for
us." He gave all He was, and all that was in Him-He gave
Himself-He gave all that was wanted. If justice had been asked,
What dost thou want? it would have answered, I want a holy
man; and more than that, I want God. Christ presents both. I
want obedience-I must have it unto death. This was found in
Christ. Sufferings were wanted, and He presents them; infinitude
was required in all, and all things afforded in Him were infinitethe infiniteness of the demand was met by infinite recompense.
Christ is a perfect example-He is all in this also. The Lawgiver is given to the law. The law in its nature, and spirit, and fullness, was satisfied in His life; and in its penalties it was satisfied in
His blood. He was perfect in all. He was perfectly lowly in suffering, and His love to God was perfect when smitten by Him. He
manifested perfect love on the cross, " My God, My God, why hast
Thou forsaken Me?" O, Father, forgive them.
He was all in conquering hell; there was no one with Him in
the contest. He was alone in the wilderness, when He was tempted
of the devil; He alone withstood the temptation of the bread, when
hunger was pressing His humanity to the earth; He withstood the
temptation of the possession of the kingdoms of the earth, when He
was suffering the horrors of the deepest poverty. He withstood,
and in wisdom silenced, the Pharisees, and others who tempted Him.
He stood against the gates of hell in the last conflict, when the
" hour" of the enemy was come, and the "power of darkness." He
then " spoiled principalities and powers, and made a show of them
openly "  "I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the people
there was none with Me; and I looked, and there was none to help;
and I wondered that there was none to uphold." There was no one
with Him from earth, or from heaven; His God had forsaken Him,
and His disciples had left Him; He was all in this battle. His own
arm brought Him victory; His own feet, nailed to the tree, trod upon




CHRIST ALL AND IN ALL.                   587
the head of the serpent; His own person on the cross subdued the
power of hell.
Wherever Christ was, there His presence was strongly marked
by events: the earth, the sea, and the winds were made sensible of
His presence. Who extracted thy sting, 0 death? Who spoiled
thee of thy victory, 0 grave? Who bruised thy head, 0 hell?
Who satisfied thee, 0 justice? It was that Jew, a man of Nazareth
called Jesus, that came by, and He had an arm which nothing could
resist. His presence manifested the presence of God: He was the
power of God, and the wisdom of God.
Christ is all to the sinner to bring him to know and to enjoy God.
Without Him there is nothing in the universe that can avail to bring
us one step toward a state of peace and salvation. If we are ever
brought to God, He must bring us. All that are saved, "them must
I bring, and they shall hear My voice." They will not come without Him-He must go after them; the Shepherd must find them, and
bring them back on His shoulder; no one ever returned by other
means. He brings them back rejoicing. The voice of the Son of
God alone quickens the spiritually dead. "You hath He quickened,
who were dead in trespasses and sins."
Christ is all as the standard and pattern of holiness. He is the
model according to which -the Spirit works in all things. As the
flocks of Jacob conceived according to what was before their eyes,
so the mind's conceptions are according to Christ where He is in view.
"We all, with open face beholding, as in a glass, the glory of the
Lord, are changed into the same image, from glory to glory, even as
by the Spirit of the Lord." Before your eyes Jesus Christ hath
been evidently set forth, crucified among you, " my little children,
of whom I travail in birth until Christ be formed in you."
Christ is all our righteousness. We have redemption. Where?
"In Him."  "In Him, through His blood, the forgiveness of sins,
according to the riches of His grace."  Being justified freely by the
grace of God, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. He
is all our peace. "He is our peace who hath made both one, and
hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; having
abolished in his flesh the enmity."
- Christ is all for the support of the believer on his pilgrimage.
If he wants his heart cleansed, the blood of Christ is all his hope;
if he wants strength against his enemies, his resource is "' the, grace
that is in Christ Jesus;" if he hope to triumph over his foes, Christ
says to him, " My grace is sufficient for thee;" if he would be fruitful, he must abide in Christ as the true vine. " He that abideth in




588                 DAVID CHARLES.
Me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without
Me ye can do nothing."
It is the great consolation of the godly in a world filll of darkness and tempests that all things are in His hand, and that they
themselves are under His care I There is not a movement among
their enemies, nor a plan formed against them, which is not under
His control. The care of the soul is upon Him, to whom the government of the world is committed. " Thy Maker is thine husband;
the Lord of Hosts is His name, and thy Redeemer is the Holy One
of Israel-the God of the whole earth." He that is thine husband
made all, and He governs all for Himself and thee; the keys of hell
and of death are appendant to His girdle.
Do you live upon Him who is ALL?  Look where you will,
there is no one that has any thing in him for you without Christ.
But He is " all." What is a creature for you, who is in debt like
yourselves? What is the law for you, which has nothing but condemnation for the guilty? What are the mercies of God? They
are but like the prison allowance to the condemned criminal, which
keeps him alive till the day of execution. God is nothing to you
without Christ: His justice threatens thee; His holiness burns fears
fully against thee, and His majesty makes thee tremble: His mercy
has nothing for thee without the Mediator. Ask all the attributes of
God. Can you do any thing for the transgressor? and they answer,
Nothing but damn him, if he has not to do with Christ. Go, therefore, to Him; He is all in this matter, and He is able, and sufficient,
and willing. Where salvation is, Christ is all; where Christ is not,
damnation is all for the transgressor.
Christ is in all. In Him all things consist. He gave being to
the universe; he gave to every creature their appropriate nature,
and He upholds them all by the word of His power. He rules the
sun, that He may rule the day; and He maintains the order of the
universe. The sparrows do not fall to the earth without His permission; He " made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning
of the thunder."
He is in all of Providence. There is no " evil in a city, and the
Lord hath not done it;" that is, the evil of punishment-the evil of
sin He forever disclaims. God threatens with the highest punish.
ments those who attribute events to chance and to accidents. There
are no accidents but with men. " I will pupish the men that say
in their heart, The Lord will not do good, neither will He do evil."
When thousands fall in battle, He counts them. "I will number
you to the sword." The keys of the grave are upon His shoulder.




CHRIST ALL AND IN ALL.                  689
" He telleth the number of the stars; He calleth them by their names
— His understanding is infinite."  "He healeth the broken in hearts
and bindeth up their wounds."
He is in all of justification. It is He that sets the sinner free.
"If the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed." He forgives the
trespass, and the fetters speedily fall off. He has righteousness for
the ungodly, but He Himself is in that righteousness; it is by his
union with Christ, that the sinner becomes possessed of righteousness. It is He that enables him to believe; and it is through His
righteousness he becomes possessed of all things, including the very
hand to receive the gifts. It is in the justification that He orders the
change of raiment. "In the Lord have we righteousness and
strength." With His voice He first gave light to His people, and
with the same voice He will raise up their bodies from the grave.
He is all of sanctification. To love Him is to be holy. His
nature is the nature of holiness, and the sanctified soul only receives
of His fullness. To be " conformed to the image of His Son," they
were renewed, and in this image they shall be without fault before
God. No holiness will be found upon the glorified Church but what
proceeded from Christ. That which is the source of holiness on
earth, will be forever the source of it in heaven. He begins a gocc
work now, which He will carry on to perfection and forever support.
Christ is all in the means of grace; if He is not there, the means
are no means of grace at all. Paul plants, and Apollos waters, and
neither does more than this: God in Christ, must secure the growth.
Why look we at men, expecting this or that to be done by them?
They are but earthen vessels, holding a precious treasure, by means
of which Christ works by the excellency of His power. Ordinances
have nothing to give without Him. Is he in them? If so, they
will answer the purpose. They were not intended but to show Him
in them. There was no virtue in the hem of the garment but what
it received from the Wearer.
Christ will be all in our triumph in death. He will give us an
abundant entrance into His everlasting kingdom. He was the Shepherd, in.whom David trusted, when he entered the dark valley.
With the keys he carries He opens, and no one can shut. " I will
come again, and receive you unto Myself, that where I am, there ye
may be also." In an hour we think not He will come. The Son
of Man will come-the fever, or whatever event will accompany His
approach, is of 0 o importance, He, who is " in all" things for His
people, the Son of Man being in it, will make it a glorious and
abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom.




b90                  DAVID CHARLES.
Christ will be all in the resurrection of the dead. "The hour is
coming, in the which all that are in the graves shall hear His voice,
and shall come forth; they that have done good unto the resurrec.
tion of life; and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of
damnation."  Some will be raised united to Him: and He "shall
change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious
body." He will send His angels, after He has raised them with His
voice, to gather His saints together. He is the Spirit that quickens
the souls of His people first; and which, in the second place, will
quicken their bodies. In Christ they shall be made alive.
Christ will be all in judgment. No one shall be found then
usurping His throne. He alone will judge men and angels. The
very Man that was seen here at the bar of Pilate, will be there
" taking vengeance on them that know not God, and that obey not
the Gospel." He who rode the ass colt toward Jerusalem, will be
seen riding the cloud, "revealed from heaven with His mighty angels." He even now holds the devils in chains of darkness against
the judgment of the appointed day; and they knew their Judge when
men failed to know Him. " Art Thou come here to torment us be&
fore the time, Jesus, thou Son of God?" Their objection was not to
the person of the Judge, but the time: they had hope of another day
for the assize, but they had no notion of another occupant of the
bench. When " He shall come to be glorified in His saints, and to
be admired in all them that believe," He will be glorious in His appearance. "Behold, He cometh with clouds; and every eye shall
see Him; and they also who pierced Him; and all kindreds of the
earth shall wail because of Him."  I saw "one like unto the Son of
Man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt round the
paps with a golden girdle: his head and his hairs were white like
wool, as white as snow; and his eyes were as a flame of fire; and
his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace; and his
voice as the sound of many waters; his countenance was as the sun
shineth in his strength."
He will be the Judge in His own cause-a privilege carefully
denied to fallible judges; the great question of the judgment will be,
How did the subjects conduct themselves toward their King? The
weight and awfulness of the trial will center on this point; and this
being made manifest, will throw light on all besides. When the Son
of Man shall come in His glory, and all the holy angels with Him,
then shall He sit on the throne of His glory; and before Him shall be
gathered all nations; and He shall separate them one from another —
then shall the King sayunto them on His right hand, " Come, ye blessed




CHRIST ALL AND IN ALL.                  591
of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was an hungered, thirsty and naked, and in
prison, and ye ministered unto Me. And He shall say also to them
on the left hand, Depart from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, for
I was with you, and you did not minister unto Me." The behavicr
of the highest person concerned, is the highest point of the judgment.
Many will have passed through the world without knowing that the
cause and the people of Christ are present with them, and the light
of the judgment-day will p.-fse them the *conviction of their blindness
and indifference.
Christ will be all in the punishment of angels and men. The
"wrath of the Lamb' will from the entire measure of their eternal
misery. He will break them to pieces with His rod of iron. " De
part from Me, ye cursed, into everlating fire:" and they shall wail
because of Him.'They "shall say to the mountains and rocks,
Fall on us, and hide, us from the face of Him that sitteth on the
throne, and from *ho wrath of the Lamb."
He will be all in the glory of the saints. His glory will constitute their glory:' Te glory, which Thou gavest Me, I have given
them. Father, I will that theyv be with Me where I am, that they
may behold My glory, which Thou hast given Me." Their claim to
glory is of Him. He enters into His glory —His own glory, existing in the promise of the Father, made to Him when He promised
the ransom for His saints; and they enter into His glory. They
were raised with Him from the dead in His resurrection, and they
sit with Him in heavenly places. Their meekness is of Him. He
gave them a proof of His love to them, when He purified them unto Himaelf, making them His peculiar people.  He "loved the
Church, and gave Himself for it, that He might satisfy and cleanse
it-that He might present it to Himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy
and without blemish." He gives the right to glory, and the meetness to enjoy it. There will be no more glory in heaven besides
what proceeds from Christ, and through Him, than there is light in
the world without the sun. To see Him as He is —to be for ever
with Him, and to be like Him, will be the whole of heaven's happiness and glory.
If Christ, then, is all, look to Christ in all. If thou art guilty
look to Him for righteousness. There is righteousness in Him for
such as thou art, and there is no way of escaping damnation but
through Him. To be justified without believing in the Son of God
is ampossible. He is a fountain of grace to His people. Come to




592                 DAVID CHARLES.
Him in your wretchedness-He will cleanse thee, and purify even
thee to Himself; and He will give thee a new heart.
If He is all in providence, why do you quarrel with second
causes?  The government is upon His shoulder. The Father sees
His shoulder sufficient to bear the burden He has placed upon it,
and why should not we? Moses' shoulder was too weak for the
government of Israel without help; but it is not so with Christ.
He is Head over all things to His church-not a Head over the
church merely, but over all things else, for the good of the church
-over the world, and angels, and principalities; over death, and
hell, and the grave. Nothing, from the throne of God to the depth
of perdition, moves but by His sufferance or command. Every
angel serves Him, and every devil is chained to His will; every
angel willingly works for Him, and every devil unwillingly serves
Him. He is the Prince of the kings of the earth. "By Him
princes rule, and all the judges of the earth." The shoulder that
bore the cross, bears the government of all, and He makes all things
work together for good to them that love God.
If Christ is in all, then the way to encounter all, and pass through
all without harm, is to go to Him. Joseph was all in Egypt once,
and the first point was to gain his favor; and so it is with us; the
great question is, how do matters stand between us and Christ?
The answer to this, is an answer to all inferior inquiries. What is
there in providence that affects us? Nothing but what He who
loves you has appointed. Seek to discern Him in all things; seek
faith, and He will be seen as He is in all.
Let those, whose concerns are in His hand, acknowledge His
sufficiency. Acknowledge Him to be in all, by trusting Him in all.
It shall be with you, not as others would have it, but as He who
loves you has ordained. He loves you better than you can love
yourselves; your own love will but destroy you; but in His love
there is SALVATION.
Have you been shut out from all things but living to Christ?
No one will come to Him but the man who has lost all. The want
of all things, shows the value and importance of Him who is in all.
While you have any thing else, you can live without Christ, and
you will die in your rejection of Him. 0, the mercy of discovering
our poverty before it is too late. The spirit of fullness and sufficiency stards in the way of coming to Christ.
If you have found all in one place, do not again wander hither
and thither Go straight to Him who gives freely to all who will
receive. Be frequently examining yourselves, as to where your al




CHRIST ALL AND'N ALL.                  593
lies, and what you think you possess without Christ; whether any
thing besides destruction awaits you. Why should your hearts be
found any where besides where your treasure is, your ALL? "Abide
in Me, and I in you."  "He that eateth Me, he shall live by Me."
To live on Christ, is to honor the plan of mercy and the wisdom of
God. The act of living upon Christ is pleasing unto God. This is
the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent. By
this you honor God's eternal counsel; if you had no opportunity to
do any thing besides this for God in the world, He would consider
thy falling in with His plan an honor done to Him. Christ is suitable in all that He is to supply our various wants. He is the bread
from heaven. and we feed upon Him: He is the fountain for sin
and uncleanness: the fountain was opened to cleanse from these,
and it must be used.  There is no way of being fruitful but by
coming to Him: " our fruit is of Him."  " Without Him we can do
nothing."  "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth
me." Sneak not of imperfections and failings while you have Christ
at hand. He says, "I am with you always," and He is ALL. I can
do all things through Him.
Those that live upon Christ, making Him their all, are desirous
of living to Christ —to His glory. The woman of Samaria began to
be something for Christ before she was aware of it. "Come, see a
man-is not this the Christ?" " He that had been possessed with
the devil, prayed Him that he might be with Him," but that was not
allowed him at that time, but Christ commanded him at the same
time to be in His service. " Go home to thy friends, and tell them
how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath had compassion on thee." Two things there are, one of which occupies the
thought of every one-self and Christ. No one cares for Christ
until he has committed himself to Him, until he can say, "I know
in whom I have believed." Thou canst never care for thyself to
any purpose; it is too great a task for thee-self has wants thou
canst never supply, it has guilt thou canst never remove, fears thou
canst not dispel, filth thou canst not cleanse, enemies thou cast never
conquer,' desires thou canst never accomplish. Thou wilt surely fail
in all these. "He that seeks his life shall lose it." To whom, then,
will you!,,ive the care of the soul when you are dying?  Stephen
committed his soul to Christ. " Lord Jesus, receive my spirit."
Let us see, if Christ is all to us, what we are to Him. The husband is all to his wife, and shall the wife be devoted to another man?
Shall Christ be all to us, and we be all to Satan? Let us see what
Christ possesses which He withh jlds from the believer. He possess38




594                 DAVID CHART ES.
es nothing; His blood is our ransom, His strength is to help us,
His victory over death and the grave is for us, and His merits give
us a claim to heaven. Have we any thing which we withhold from
Him? If we have, the proof that Christ is ours is insufficient.
When God asked Abraham for his son, He got him; when He required of some their possessions, He received them; and when He
demanded the lives of others, they were given up to Him.
Do not go to judgment and to eternity poor, while all things
suitable for you are within your reach; they are offered at your very
doors-there is no excuse for the eternal poverty of the unbeliever.
Every thing that suits the eternal world you are going to is at hand.
Christ is all for His people here, and He is a suitable inheritance for
them hereafter.
None are so faithful as the subjects of sin-they rush upon eternal death for its sake. Although devils and the damned have been
in flames for thousands of years, on account of sin, yet the unbeliever in the world love3 sin as much as ever. Many a subject boasts
that he will lay down his life for his king; but here all do the thing
without hesitation; theT give their souls and their bodies to everlastini destructio: for W e pleasures of sin for a season.




DISCOURSE  EIGHTY.SECOND.
CHRISTMAS EVANS.
THIS great pulpit orator was born at Ysgarwen, Cardiganshire, South
Wales, on the 25th of December, 1766. His father died when he was
only nine years old, and he spent his early years, subsequent to this, as a
servant for the farmers in the parish. At the age of seventeen he was
so ignorant as to be unable to read a word. He soon, however, became
the subject of deep religious impressions, and in an incredibly short time
learned to read the Scriptures. At the age of eighteen he joined the
Arminian Presbyterians, and began to exercise his gifts in prayer and
exhortation. He shortly after preached his first sermon, but feeling the
need of more education, devoted himself for some time to study under
the direction of his pastor. In the year 1788 he adopted the views of
the Baptists, and was received into the fellowship of a church of that
faith at Aberduer. In 1790 he was ordained a missionary to several
small churches in the vicinity of Leyn. Two years after this he visited
South Wales, where his preaching was attended with the most remarkable awakening of the churches, and the conversion of multitudes to
Christ. At the age of forty-six years he settled at Anglesea. A powerful revival began under his labors, and continued for several years. He
remained here fourteen years and then took charge of the Baptist church
m Caerphilly, Glamorganshire, where he preached two years; after
which he accepted a call from the church in Cardiff, a neighboring town.
During his ministry of two and a half years at this place he wrote about
two hundred sermons for the press, many of which have since been published. His last charge was in Caernarvon. On the sixteenth of July,
1838, he preached at Swansea, and said, as he sat down, "This is my last
sermon;" and so it proved; for that night he was taken violently ill,
and died three days afterward, in his seventy-third year, and the fiftyfourth of his ministry.
Evans's descriptive powers were perhaps never excelled. His imagination was of the imperial order, and absolutely knew no bounds; and
his facility in the ready use of language altogether wonderful. Besides
this he was a man of the liveliest sensibilities, and always spoke out of a
full heart, sometimes storming his hearers with his impassioned earnest



596                 CHRISTMAS EVANS.
ness, and sometimes himself overwhelmed with the magnitude and grand
eur of his theme. Add to this his pre-eminent faith and holiness of
life, and we discover the secret of his astonishing pulpit eloquence —
which, according to Robert Hall, entitles him to be ranked among the
first men of his age. The best edition of Evans's sermons is that by
Joseph Cross. Of course no translator can do him full justice, but the
wide popularity of these discourses is the best evidence of their real
merit, though in a foreign dress. Perhaps there is no one, upon the
whole, superior to that which is here given. It contains one or two
passages, which, for originality and brilliancy of conception, and for
force of utterance, are absolutely unrivalled.
THE FATLL AND RECOVERY OF MAN.
"For if, through the offense of one, many be dead; much more the grace of God,
and the gift by grace, which is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many."RowiNs, v. 15.
Man was created in the image of God. Knowledge and perfect
holiness were impressed upon the very nature and faculties of his
soul. He had constant access to his Maker, and enjoyed free communion with Him, on the ground of his spotless, moral rectitude.
But alasl the glorious diadem is broken; the crown of righteousness is fallen. Man's purity is gone, and his happiness is forfeited.
"There is none righteous; no, not one."  "All have sinned, and
come short of the glory of God."  But the ruin is not hopeless.
What was lost in Adam, is restored in Christ. His blood redeems
us from bondage, and His Gospel gives us back the forfeited inherit
ance. "For if, through the offense of one, many be dead; much
more the grace of God, and the gift by grace, which is by one man,
Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many." Let us consider; —First,
The corruption and condemnation of man; and Secondly, his gracious restoration to the favor of his offended God.
I. To find the cause of man's corruption and condemnation, we
must go back to Eden. The eating of the "forbidden tree" was
"the offense of one," in consequence of which "many are dead."
This was the "sin," the act of "disobedience," which "brought
death into the world, and all our woe." It was the greatest ingratitude to the Divine bounty, and the boldest rebellion against the
Divine sovereignty.  The royalty of God was contemned; the
riches of His goodness slighted; and His most desperate enemy pre



THE FALL AND RECOVERY OF MAN.                 B97
ferred before Him, as if He were a wiser counselor than infinite
Wisdom. Thus man joined in league with hell, against heaven;
with demons of the bottomless pit, against the Almighty Maker and
Benefactor; robbing God of the obedience due to His command,
and the glory due to His name; worshiping the creature, instead of
the Creator; and opening the door to pride, unbelief, enmity, and
all wicked and abominable passions. How is the "noble vine,"
which was planted " wholly a right seed," "turned into the degenerate plant of a strange vine I"
Who can look for pure water from such a fountain? "That
which is born of the flesh is flesh." All the faculties of the sou.
are corrupted by sin; the understanding dark; the will perverse;
the affections carnal; the conscience full of shame, remorse, confusion, and mortal fear. Man is a hard-hearted and stiff-necked
sinner; loving darkness rather than light, because his deeds are
evil; eating sin like bread, and drinking iniquity like water; holding fast deceit, and refusing to let it go. His heart is desperately
wicked; full of pride, vanity, hypocrisy, covetousness, hatred of
truth, and hostility to all that is good.
This depravity is universal. Among the natural children of
Adam, there is no exemption from the original taint. "The whole
world lieth in wickedness."  "We are all as an unclean thing, and
all our righteousness is as filthy rags." The corruption may vary
in the degrees of development, in different persons; but the elements are in all, and their nature is everywhere the same; the same
in the blooming youth, and the withered sire; in the haughty prince,
and the humble peasant; in the strongest giant, and the feeblest
invalid. The enemy has "come in like a flood."  The deluge of
sin has swept the world. From the highest to the lowest, there is
no health or moral soundness. From the crown of the head to the
soles of the feet, there is nothing but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores. The laws, and their violation, and the punishments
everywhere invented for the suppression of vice, prove the universality of the evil. The bloody sacrifices, and various purifications,
of the pagans, show the handwriting of remorse upon their consciences; proclaim their sense of guilt, and their dread of punishment. None of them are free from the fear which hath torment,
whatever their efforts to overcome it, and however great their boldness in the service of sin and Satan. "Mene I Tekel!" is written
on every human heart. "Wantingl wanting!" is inscribed on
heathen fanes and altars; on the laws, customs, and institutions of
every nation; and on the universal consciousness of mankind.




598                CHRISTMAS EVANS.
This inward corruption manifests itself in outward actions.
"The tree is known by its fruit." As the smoke and sparks of the
chimney show that there is fire within; so all the " filthy conversation" of men, and all " the unfruitful works of darkness" in which
they delight, evidently indicate the pollution of the source whence
they proceed. " Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." The sinner's speech betrayeth him. "Evil speaking" pro
ceeds from malice and envy. "Foolish talking and jesting," are
evidence of impure and trifling thoughts. The mouth full of cursing and bitterness, the throat an open sepulchre, the poison of asps
under the tongue, the feet swift to shed blood, destruction and misery in their paths, and the way of peace unknown to them, are the
clearest and amplest demonstration that men "have gone out of the
way," " have together become unprofitable." We see the bitter fruit
of the same corruption in robbery, adultery, gluttony, drunkenness,
extortion, intolerance, persecution, apostasy, and every evil workin all false religions; the Jew, obstinately adhering to the carnal
ceremonies of an abrogated law; the Mohammedan, honoring an
impostor, and receiving a lie for a revelation from God; the Papist,
worshiping images and relics, praying to departed saints, seeking
absolution from sinful men, and trusting in the most absurd mummeries for salvation; the Pagan, attributing divinity to the works
of his own hands, adoring idols of wood and stone, sacrificing to
malignant demons, casting his children into the fire or the flood as
an offering to imaginary deities, and changing the glory of the incorruptible God into the likeness of the beast and the worm.
" For these things' sake the wrath of God cometh upon the children of disobedience." They are under the sentence of the broken
law; the malediction of Eternal Justice. "By the offense of one,
judgment came upon all men unto condemnation."  "He that believeth not is condemned already."  "The wrath of God abideth on
him."  "Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things written in the book of the law, to do them."  " Wo unto the wicked;
it shall be ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be given
him." "They that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, shall reap
the same." " Upon the wicked the Lord shall rain fire, and snares,
and a horrible tempest; this shall be the portion of their cup."
"God is angry with the wicked every day; if He turn not, He will
whet His sword; He hath bent His bow, and made it ready."
Who shall describe the misery of fallen man I His days, though
few, are full of evil. Trouble and sorrow press him forward to the
tomb. All the worl, except Noah and his family, are drowning in




THE FALL ANr RECOVERY  )F MAN                 599
the deluge. A storm of fire and brimstone is fallen from heaven
upon Sodom and Gomorrah. The earth is opening her mouth to
swallow up alive Korah, Dathan, and Abiram. Wrath is coming
upon " the Beloved City," even "wrath unto the uttermost."  The
tender and delicate mother is devouring her darling infant. The
sword of men is executing the vengeance of God. The earth is
-emptying its inhabitants into the bottomless pit. On every hand
are "confused noises, and garments rolled in blood." Fire and
sword fill the land with consternation and dismay. Amid the uni
versal devastation, wild shrieks and despairing groans fill the air.
God of mercy i is Thy ear heavy, that Thou canst not hear? or Thy
arm shortened, that Thou canst not save? The heavens above are
brass, and the earth beneath is iron; for Jehovah is pouring His in
dignation upon His adversaries, and He will not pity or spare.
Verily, "the misery of man is great upon him I" Behold the
wretched fallen creaturel The pestilence pursues him. The leprosvy cleaves to him. Consumption is wasting him. Inflammation
is devouring his vitals. Burning fever has seized upon the very
springs of life. The destroying angel has overtaken the sinner in
his sins. The hand of God is upon him. The fires of wrath are
kindling about him, drying up every well of comfort, and scorching
all his hopes to ashes. Conscience is chastising him with scorpions.
See how he writhes  Hear how he shrieks for help! Mark what
agony and terror are in his soul, and on his brow! Death stares
him in the face, and shakes at him his iron spear. He trembles, he
turns pale, as a culprit at the bar, as a convict on the scaffold. He
is condemned already. Conscience has pronounced the sentence.
Anguish has taken hold upon him. Terrors gather in battle array
about him. He looks back, and the storms of Sinai pursue him;
forward, and hell is moved to meet him; above, and the heavens
are on fire; beneath, and the world is burning. He listens, and the
judgment trump is calling; again, and the brazen chariots of ven.
geance are thundering from afar; yet again, and the sentence pene
trates his soul with anguish unspeakable-" Depart I ye accursed l
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels I"
Thus, "by one man, sin entered into the world, and death by
sin; and so death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned."
They are " dead in trespasses and sins;" spiritually dead, and legally
dead; dead by the mortal power of sin, and dead by the condemnatory sentence of the law; and helpless as sheep to the slaughter,
they are driven fiercely on by the ministers of wrath to the alldevouring grave, and the lake of fire I




600                CHRISTMAS EVANS.
But is there no mercy? Is there no means of salvation? Hark!
amidst all this prelude of wrath and ruin, comes a still small voice,
saying: " much more the grace of God, and- the gift by grace, which
is by one man, Jesus Christ, hath abounded unto many."
II. This brings us to our second topic, man's gracious recovery
to the favor of his offended God.
I know not how to represent to you this glorious work, better
than by the following figure. Suppose a vast graveyard, surrounded
by a lofty wall, with only one entrance, which is by a massive iron
gate, and that is fast bolted. Within are thousands and millions of
human beings, of all ages and classes, by one epidemic disease bending to the grave. The graves yawn to swallow them, and they must
all perish. There is no balm to relieve, no physician there. Such
is the condition of man as a sinner. All have sinned; and it is
written, "The soul that sinneth shall die." But while the unhappy
race lay in that dismal prison, Mercy came and stood at the gate,
and wept over the melancholy scene, exclaiming —" O that I might
enter I I would bind up their wounds; I would relieve their sorrows; I would save their souls!" An embassy of angels, commissioned from the court of heaven to some other world, paused at the
sight, and heaven forgave that pause. Seeing Mercy standing there,
they cried:-" Mercy I canst thou not enter? Canst thou look upon
that scene and not pity? Canst thou pity, and not relieve?" Mercy
replied: "I can see I" and in her tears she added, " I can pity, but
I can not relieve!" "Why canst thou not enter?" inquired the
heavenly host. "Oh!" said Mercy, "Justice has barred the gate
against me, and I must not-can not unbar it I" At this moment,
Justice appeared, as if to watch the gate. The angels asked, "Why
wilt thou not suffer Mercy to enter?" He sternly replied: "The law
is broken, and it must be honored! Die they or Justice must I"
Then appeared a form among the angelic band like unto the Son of
God. Addressing Himself to Justice, He said: "What are thy demands?" Justice replied: "My demands are rigid; I must have
ignominy for their honor, sickness for their health, death for their
life. Without the shedding of blood there is no remission!" "Jus.
tice," said the Son of God, "I accept thy terms  On Me be this
wrong I Let Mercy enter, and stay the carnival of death!" "What
pledge dost Thou give for the performance of these conditions?"
"My word; My oath I" " When wilt Thou perform them?" " Four
thousand years hence, on the hill of Calvary, without the walls of
Jerusalem I" The bcund was prepared, and signed and sealed in the
presence of attendant angels. Justice was satisfied, the gate was




THE FALL AND RECOVERY OF MAN.                 601
opened, and Mercy entered, preaching salvation in the name of Je.
sus. The bond was committed to patriarchs and prophets. A long
series of rites and ceremonies, sacrifices and oblations, was instituted
to perpetuate the memory of that solemn deed. At the close of the
four thousandth year, when Daniel's "seventy weeks" were accomplished, Justice and Mercy appeared on the hill of Calvary. " Where,"
said Justice, "is the Son of God?"  "Behold Him," answered
Mercy, " at the foot of the hill I" And there He came, bearing His
own cross, and followed by His weeping church. Mercy retired,
and stood aloof from the scene. Jesus ascended the hill, like a lamb
for the sacrifice. Justice presented the dreadful bond, saying, "This
is the day on which this article must be cancelled." The Redeemer
took it. What did He do with it? Tear it in pieces, and scatter it
to the winds? NoI He nailed it to His cross, crying, "It is finished I" The Victim ascended the altar. Justice called on holy fire
to come down and consume the sacrifice. Holy fire replied: "I
come I! I will consume the sacrifice, and then I will burn up the
world!" It fell upon the Son of God, and rapidly consumed His
humanity; but when it touched His Deity, it expired. Then was
there darkness over the whole land, and an earthquake shook the
mountain; but the heavenly host broke forth in rapturous song"Glory to God in the highest! on earth peacel good will to
man!"
Thus grace has abounded, and the free gift has come upon all, and
the Gospel has gone forth proclaiming redemption to every creature.
" By grace ye are saved, through faith; and that not of yourselves;
it is the gift of God; not of works, lest any man should boast."
By grace ye are loved, redeemed, and justified. By grace ye are
called, converted, reconciled and sanctified. Salvation is wholly of
grace. The plan, the process, the consummation are all of grace.
" Grace all the work shall crown,
Through everlasting days;
It lays in heaven the topmost stone,
And well deserves the praisel"
"Where sin abounded, grace hath much more abounded."
" Through the offense of one, many were dead."  And as men multi.
plied, the offense abounded. The waters deluged the world, but
could not wash away the dreadful stain. The fire fell from heaven,
but could not burn out the accursed plague. The earth opened her
mouth, but could not swallow up the monster sin. The law thundered forth its threat from the thick darkness on Sinai; but could




602                CHRISTMAS EVANS.
not restrain, by all its terrors, the children of disobedience. Still the
offense abounded, and multiplied as the sands on the sea-shore. It
waxed bold, and pitched its tents on Calvary, and nailed the Lawgiver to a tree. But in that conflict sin received its mortal wound.
The Victim was the Victor. He fell, but in his fall He crushed the
foe. He died unto sin, but sin and death were crucified upon His
cross. Where sin abounded to condemn, grace hath much more
abounded to justify. Where sin abounded to corrupt, grace hath
much more abounded to purify. Where sin abounded to harden,
grace hath much more abounded to soften and subdue. Where sin
abounded to imprison men, grace hath much more abounded to proclaim liberty to the captives. Where sin abounded to break the
law and dishonor the Lawgiver, grace hath much more abounded to
repair the breach and efface the stain. Where sin abounded to consume the soul as with unquenchable fire and a gnawing worm, grace
hath much more abounded to extinguish the flame and heal the
wound. Grace hath abounded I It hath established its throne on
the merit of the Redeemer's sufferings.  It hath put on the crown,
and laid hold of the golden scepter, and spoiled the dominion of the
prince of darkness, and the gates of the -great cemetery are thrown
open, and there is the beating of a new life-pulse throughout its
wretched population, and Immortality is walking among the
tombs!
This abounding grace is manifested in the gift of Jesus Christ, by
whose mediation our reconciliation and salvation are effected. With
Him, believers are dead unto sin, and alive unto God. Our sins
were slain at His cross, and buried in His tomb. His resurrection
hath opened our graves, and given us an assurance of immortality.
" God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet
sinners, Christ died for us; much more, then, being now justified by
His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him; for if, when
we were enemies, we were reconciled to God by the death of His
Son, much more, being reconciled, we shall be saved by His life."
" The carnal mind is enmity against God; it is not subject to the
law of God, neither indeed can be." Glory to God, for the death
of His Son, by which this enmity is slain, and reconciliation is effected between the rebel and the law I This was the unspeakable gift
that saved us from ruin; that wrestled with the storm, and turned it
away from the devoted head of the sinner. Had all the angels of
God attempted to stand between these two conflicting seas, they
would have been swept to the gulf of destruction. "c The blood of
bulls and goats, on Jewish altars slain," could not take away sin,




THE FALL AND RECOVERY OF MAN.                60O
could not pacify the conscience. But Christ, the gift of Di ine
Grace, " Paschal Lamb by God appointed," a " sacrifice of nobler
name and richer blood than they," bore our sins and carried our sorrows, and obtained for us the boon of eternal redemption. He met
the fury of the tempest, and the floods went over His head; but His
offering was an offering of peace, calming the storms and the waves,
magnifying the law, glorifying its Author, and rescuing its violator
from wrath and ruin. Justice hath laid down His sword at the foot
of the cross, and amity is restored between heaven and earth.
Hither, O ye guilty I come and cast away your weapons of rebellion I Come with your bad principles and wicked actions; your
unbelief, and enmity, and pride; and throw them off at the Redeemer's feet  God is here, waiting to be gracious. He will receive
you; He will cast all your sins behind His back, into the depths of
the sea; and they shall be remembered against you no more forever.
By Heaven's c" Unspeakable gift," by Christ's invaluable atonement,
by the free and infinite grace of the Father and the Son, we persuade
you, we beseech you, we entreat you, "be ye reconciled to God!"
It is by the work of the Holy Spirit within us, that we obtain a
personal interest in the work wrought on Calvary for us. If our
sins are cancelled, they are also crucified. If we are reconciled in
Christ, we fight against our God no more. This is the fruit of faith.
" With the heart man believeth unto righteousness." May the Lord
inspire in every one of us that saving principle I
But those who have been restored to the Divine favor may sometimes be cast down and dejected. They have passed through the
sea, and sung praises on the shore of deliverance; but there is yet
between them and Canaan " a waste howling wilderness," a long
and weary pilgrimage, hostile nations, fiery serpents, scarcity of
food, and the river Jordan. Fears within and fightings without,
they may grow discouraged, and yield to temptation and murmur
against God, and desire to return to Egypt. But fear not, thou
worm Jacob! Reconciled by the death of Christ; much more,
being reconciled, thou shalt be saved by His life. His death was
the price of our redemption; His life insures liberty to the believer.
If by His death He brought you through the Red Sea in the night,
by His life He can lead you through the river Jordan in the day. If
by His death He delivered you from the iron furnace in Egypt, by
His life He can save you from all the perils of the wilderness. If
by His death he conquered Pharaoh, the chief foe, by His life He
can subdue Sihon, king of the Amorites, and Og, the king of
Bashan. " We shall be saved by His life."  " Because He livetb,




604               CHRISTMAS EVANS.
we shall live also." "Be of good cheer!" The work is finished;
the ransom is effected; the kingdom of heaven is opened to all
believers. "Lift up your heads and rejoice," "ye prisoners of
hope I" There is no debt unpaid, no devil unconquered, no enemy
within your own hearts that has not received a mortal woundl
" Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory, through our Lord
Jesus Christ I"




DISCOURSE EIGHTY.THIRD.
JOHN ELIAS.
ELIAS was born in 1774, in the parish of Aberch, county of Caernar.
von, and was awakened at the age of seventeen, under a sermon by the
celebrated Rowlands. He was introduced into the ministry of the Cal.
vinistic Methodist church in 1794, and began to itinerate and declare
the tidings of salvation with great acceptance. Some years after this
he became resident minister at Anglesea, where his labors were attended
with the most marked results, in the moral elevation of the people. His
fame as a preacher went throughout all Wales, and wherever he ap.
peared, multitudes flocked to hear the word from his lips. His health,
however, had been seriously impaired by repeated attacks of disease,
and at length he departed this life on the 8th of June, 1841.
Elias's chief characteristics were a clear and masculine understand.
ing, great tenderness of feeling, a discriminating judgment, strong reasoning faculties, and a spirit of genuine, unpretending piety. For compass
and vigor of language, in his preaching, he is said to have been almost
unrivaled. As a pulpit orator he has been placed along side of Evans
and Whitfield; but his sermons do not discover the creative genius
and force of conception seen in those of Evans. His power consisted
more in his oratory and in his electric energy. The discourses of Elias,
however, possess very great merit, abounding in good, solid instructions,
bearing the traces of a vivid and chastened imagination, and containing
passages of rich and simple eloquence.
The following sermon, translated from the Welsh, at our request, is
said to be an excellent portraiture of Elias as a preacher. It was taken
down in short hand at the time of its delivery before an Association or
Synod of the Calvinistic or Whitfield Methodists, held at Holyhead,
Anglesea, in the year 1837.
THE TWO FAMILIES.
" And we know that we are of God, and the whole world lieth in wickedness"-.
1 JOHN, v. 19.
There are two prominent deficiencies in the character of Chris
tians in the present age. One is, a deficiency of knowledge that




606                    JOHN ELIAS.
they are "of God," combined with a want of mental distress, and
vehement desire, for the attainment of such knowledge. The other
is, a want of compassionate and agonizing reflections upon the deplorable and pitiable state of the " world."  If you should visit the
Christian churches of our day, and institute a strict and impartial
investigation into the nature of their experiences, you would soon
liscover the predominancy of these lamentable defects.
A sure knowledge that they are of God, is attainable to those
individuals who are of God. Godly men may acquire, by undoubted evidences, feelings of certainty respecting their state of
godliness. I do not assert, that every pious man knows that he is
in possession of piety; but what I maintain and affirm is, that such
knowledge is attainable by Christians, because it has been promised
by God. Whatever is involved in the promises of God to His peopie, is certainly attainable by them. The Divine promises are like
so many good bills, payable to the believer, on his application, at the
office of Free Grace. Some Christians are destitute of assurance,
because of their infancy in religion. Others are kept in ignorance
of their acceptance with God through their own negligence, their
proneness to spiritual declension, and their tendency to grieve the
Holy Spirit. Now, inasmuch as an assurance of our spiritual birtiof God is attainable, Christians ought not to rest short of it. It is,
indeed, an awfully serious thing, that any man should make a public
profession of religion for years, without knowing in the world,
whither his pilgrimage will end. One of the principal pillars of
the Romish church is, their belief in the impossibility of arriving at
a certainty respecting our real state before God, in this world, and
destined condition in the world to come. The merchandise in the
pardon of sins, the doctrine of purgatory, and prayers for the dead,
etc., are founded upon this glaring error. It is lamentable to think,
that Protestants should bear an assimilation to Papists, even in this
respect. I am really afraid that an erroneous notion prevails among
Christians touching the non-importance of knowing the reality of
their second birth, and that they have only to hope it has been
effected. Should you solemnly appeal to some professing Christians,
inferring your doubts concerning the sincerity of their piety; pointing out at the same time to them, this and the other symptom, which
give rise to your fears, they would probably reply to you, and say,
"How do you know?". Well, 0 man, dost thou know them?  If
thou, thyself, art destitute of knowledge in this respect, how canst
thou find fault with them who entertain doubts and fears as to thy
real state? 0 Christian professor! I am afraid that eternal misery




THE TWO FAMILIES.                    607
will be your home and portion. Methinks to hear you say, How
do you know? Well, dost thou know them? If thou thyself art
ignorant of thine everlasting destiny, how canst thou blame me, for
expressing my fears regarding it. Thousands run the risk with the
all-important and all-absorbing concern of their soul's salvation.
One man, the other day, on his entrance into eternity, said, I have
only to venture upon chance. God has never designed that His
people should be in such a doubtful state of mind. He has provided strong consolation for them, and He has appointed the means
whereby they may acquire a full enjoyment of them. It is mortifying to the feelings of eminent Christian men, to behold a numerous
church, with only a handful of its members capable of discerning
that they are "of God," while the great majority appear to be entirely insensible to the vast importance of obtaining such an assurance.
And, besides, there is a great amount of dormancy, carelessness,
and inconsideration among professed Christians, with respect to the
miserable state of the " whole world." Very few, indeed, comparatively speaking, feel deeply and compassionately for the deplorable condition of mankind in general. We mourn a little over the impiety, wickedness, and misery of the few; but insignificant, indeed,
is our mental distress in reference to the deep depravity, delusion,
idolatry, and wretchdness of the many, or the universal condition of
the world.
Far, indeed, am I from adopting the opinion of some, who say,
"that outward reformation is of no value whatever; nothing," they
say, " short of internal piety is worth a straw. Vain are all the efforts to ameliorate the morals of mankind. All will be of no avail
whatever, unless we can change their hearts." Such an idea is far
from being correct. It devolves upon Christians to put forth every
exertion within their power, to reform the outward conduct of men.
Even external amendment of life will be productive of some degree
of happiness to the man himself, and of some measure of honor to
his Maker.
Nevertheless, we ought not to rest here, without solemnly refiet.ing upon the lost condition of the human family-mourning deeply
over it-praying fervently, and employing our wealth and talents
for its conversion. The outward morals of that man there, are certainly very plausible; but still, we can discover symptoms upon him
of his destitution of acceptance with God. That woman, that young
girl, are truly commendable in many things; and yet we can discern marks upon their character of their exposure to the wrath that




608                   JOHN ELIAS.
is to come. How is it, there is not a deeper feeling of commiseration
and sympathy on their behalf? Why, none but those who are " of
God" can really know and feel for the state of the ungodly world.
The words of our text may be read thus, " We know that we are. of
God; and we know that the whole world lieth in wickedness." The
world itself is ignorant of the awfulness and misery of its condition.
Hypocrites in the church are also in darkness concerning it. Those
who are "of God" alone have seen and felt what the lost condition
of the world is.
The inspired apostle writes the words before us in the name of his
Christian brethren, as well as that of himself. "We know," etc.
In this passage mankind are divided into two different classes:
some who are "of God," and "the whole world."  The distinction
which he makes will stand immovably; and it is of the highest
consequence. Some distinctions are of very little importance. It
would not be of much moment if I should say, "I am a Calvinistic
Methodist or a Presbyterian; that man is a Wesleyan, while the
other is an Independent or Baptist, etc." Our sectarian distinctions
will, one day, be buried in eternal oblivion. There is too great a
tendency, in the various sections of the Christian church just now,
to condemn and censure one another. One lays great stress on his
communion; another attaches vast importance to his immersion,
while nearly all religious men are prejudiced in favor of the minoi
peculiarities of their own sect and persuasion.  But the apostle
and his brethren apprehended no interest so vastly important as
the sentiments of the text, " We know that we are of God, and the
whole world lieth in wickedness."
The text naturally divides itself into two subjects:L The happy and exalted state of believers; they are " of God"
— and some of them " know" it.
II. The wretched and deplorable condition of all others.' The
whole world lieth in wickedness." By "the whole world" is evidently meant, all who are not " of God."
All the inhabitants of the world are comprised within the compass of the text; and the distinction made therein reaches them all.
But let us notice,
I. The happy, exalted state of the believers: "We know that
we are of God." Here let us inquire, 1. What is meant by being
" of Grod." The verse preceding the text elucidates the expression,
There the godly man is denominated " He that is born of God."
Thus to be "of God" means to be born of Him.
Now, my dear hearers, do you bear in mind that regeneration is




THE TWO FAMILIES.                    609
as absolutely necessary in our days, as it was when our Lord was
conversing with Nicodemus? Do you seriously consider that a
second birth is as indispensable this year as it was some fifty years
ago, when none should be admitted into church fellowship without
hopeful and noted signs of their having been regenerated. Regeneration is as necessary and important now as it ever was. "Except
a man be born again, he can not see the kingdom of God," this year
as well as any previous year; and he can never enter into it. To
be born of God is essential to the possession of true religion. Independent of it there can be no genuine piety. Would to God that a
general feeling of self-examination should pervade the vast assemblage
before me, " Are we born again?" You need not inquire so much concerning the mode, the time, and the place in which the change was effected, as to the character of the effects produced. You may deceive
yourselves in looking for evidences in the circumstances of the change.
But you should examine yourselves, whether you have realized the
benefits accruing therefrom. Search your hearts and conduct minutely
and impartially, whether you can discern symptoms of a thorough
change in your principles, dispositions, and motives, divinely wrought
by the life-giving influences of the Spirit of God. Remember, it is
a birth of God; God is the great author of it. He has implanted
something of a spiritual and heavenly nature within all regenerate
persons: "For his seed remaineth in him."  He has communicated
living water into their hearts, which shall abide in them, "a well of
water, springing up into everlasting life." There is a holy principle
existing in the regenerate of which all others are utterly destitute.
They are influenced by a spirit to which "the whole world" besides
are perfect strangers. "That which is born of the Spirit is spirit."
Again, to be " of God," imports to be on God's side-to be
member of His family-to be a soldier in His army, fighting the bat
tles of the Lord —to be a workman in His vineyard, carrying on His
work on earth, and aiming at His glory in the performance of every
social, relative, and Christian duty.
Furthermore, all the excellencies of the Christian are to be entirely attributed to His being "of God." Whatever superiority
pertains to a godly man, it is wholly ascribable to his God. None
of the glory is due to himself. All the praise must be returned to
God. "Who maketh thee to differ from another? And what hast
thou, that thou didst not receive? Now, if thou didst receive it,"
glorying, on thy part, is altogether excluded. "We are of God,"
says the Apostle John: and to this accords the testimony of the
great Apostle of the Gentiles, " But of Him are ye in Christ Jesus,
39




610                   JOHN ELIAS
who of God is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctifi.
cation, and redemption: that according as it is written, He that
glorieth, let him glory in the Lord." The four different blessings
mentioned by the Apostle, fully constitute the essence of vital religion; they involve in their own nature, all that sinful man needs in
time and eternity; and the godly man receives them "of God."
Wisdom to us, who are foolish; righteousness to us, who are guilty;
sanctification to us, who are polluted; and redemption to us, who
have been " sold under sin." It is utterly impossible to imagine of
any good, which is not embodied in these things. Of whom does
the believer receive them? Of God. We must divest ourselves of
all merit, and give all the glory to the God of our salvation.
There is no monster so deformed on earth, as the man who professes to be a godly man, and who still is a proud and arrogant man
Such a character somewhat resembles the image of Dagon, which
was composed partly of a fish, and partly of a serpent. The man
who pretends to be a godly man, ought to be the most humble and
condescending man. And, indeed, the truly godly man, is really
the most humble. The declaration in the text, brings him to the
dust, "We are of God." Believers, enumerate all your exalted
privileges; revive them, and recollect that they are all of God.
" Not unto us; not unto us; but to Thy great name be the glory."
2. Some believers "know" that they are of God. These can
adopt the language of the apostle, and say, " We know that we are
of God." I hope you have taken special notice of what I have already said. I do not say, that all who are regenerated, know it to a
certainty: but they may know, and they ought to labor diligently
and perseveringly for the attainment of such knowledge. Some
have acquired it, " We know'hat we are of God." It is attainable:
(1.) By consulting watchfully the testimony of conscience, or our own
spirit. "If our heart condemn us," i. e., if we are arraigned at the
bar of conscience, as being guilty of indulging and delighting in
sin, " God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things."
" Beloved if our heart condemn us not," or if our conscience testifies
that we. are free from the love of sin, "then have we confidence toward God."  "The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that
we are the children of God" Our own Spirit testifies in conjunction
with the Holy Spirit of God, that we are born of God. Moreover,
the enemies of the Christian are so cruel, and so subtle; "the accuser of the brethren" is so cunningly malicious, that they give in
their evidence against us; and through their overbearing insolence,
the spirit of the feeble Christian is frequently silenced. But "the




THE TWO FAMILIES.                     611
Spirit itself," who is an irresistible witness, comes forth, testifying by
undeniable evidences, and in sweet accents, that he is a child of God.
His testimony prevails, and all the accusers are put to flight.
(2.) The genuine Christian may " know" that he is "of God," by
carefully observing the fruits which he bears. The Christian may,
by a solicitous investigation, discover principles in his heart and
fruits in his life, which could not have emanated from any other
source than of God. He may discern his love to God, and love to
the brethren. And these fruits alone, constitute a conclusive evidence, that he is of God. " We know that we have passed from
death unto life, because we love the brethren." Now, mark, passing
6, from death unto life" is the cause; and loving the brethren is the
effect produced by that cause. Brotherly love forms one of the
operations of that heavenly life, which we received in our translation from death unto life. We know that an irreconcilable hatred
of sin exists in our hearts. Let men and devils present it in the
most plausible colors; let them invest it in the most gorgeous robe;
let them place a most embellished crown on its brow; let them put
in ith hand a most splendid scepter, and furnish it with a most magnificent throne, and thus give it a most imposing appearance, we
can not help loathing and abhorring it with perfect detestation. We
know that we ardently desire to walk as the Son of God walked —
to copy His example in all things. We know that we are hungering and thirsting to be pure, as Christ is pure. From fruits of this
kind, the believer may know that he is " an heir of God, and joint
heir with Christ."
3. The true Christian may know that he is of God, from the
character of his communion with God. Believers enjoy frequent
communion with God, and through its medium may know that they
are "of God."  The Holy Spirit, as the spirit of adoption, dwells
within them, "whereby they cry, Abba, Father." They are ad.
nitted into the presence of their Father, as dear children. They
are sometimes capable of saying, " our fellowship is with the Father,
and with His Son, Jesus Christ." And whenever they are able to
utter suGh language, they know that they are of God.
Well, my Christian friends, how do you feel in the face of this
weighty, and important truth? I should not like to discourage the
feeblest believer; but I should wish to rouse the minds of all who
are of God, earnestly to seek an indisputable evidence of their interest in Him, that they may redound more to His glory, and enhance
their own comforts. 0  that my God would enable me to utter a
word, which would terrify that dormant Christian, without discour



612                   JOHN ELIAS.
aging that feeble and trembling Christian. Let me entreat of you
to survey your state, in order to find out whose you are. The
Judge standeth at the door. My dear hearers, one thing I would
desire of you; will you, before you "give sleep to your eyes, or
slumber to your eyelids" this evening, examine yourselves, of whom
am I? Sinner: it is useless for thee to hide thyself behind any
bush, imagining that no eye perceives thee; thou art directly before
the face of the heart-searching God. Come to the light that thy
deeds may be made manifest; be determined to know of whom
thou art.
Let us proceed to consider:
II. The deplorable and miserable condition of all those who are
not of God, "the whole world lieth in wickedness."
Some are of opinion that the term wickedness, means the wicked
ine; and others, the wicked thing. These are the sources of all the
evil that exist in the Divine government. We shall adopt both
views.
1. The whole world is in the power of the wicked one. The
learned Mr. Leigh, in his " Critici Sacra," renders the phrase, "And
the whole world lieth between the jaw of the wicked one," like a
lamb in the jaws of the wolf, or a prey in the mouth of the lion,
borne by him to his den. What a painfal and pitiful consideration.
The wicked lie between the jaws of the roaring lion, carried by him
to his infernal den. The Bible declares in the plainest terms, that
the whole world lies in the power of Satan. When Saul of Tarsus
was converted unto the faith of the Gospel, and commissioned to
preach the Gospel to sinners, he was emphatically told where he
should find them, " From the power of Satan unto God." Mankind
by nature are represented as being in "the snare of the devil, taken
captive by him at his will." Our Lord in addressing the unbelieving Jews, says, "ye are of your father, the devil, and the lusts of
your father ye will do."  The devil is called "the god of this
world;" and sinners are described as his subjects, his children. His
children are more submissive and obedient to him, than the children
of God are to their heavenly Father: nothing but evil exists in the
unregenerate. Christ, in expounding the parable of the tares, de
clares that the tares were "the children of the wicked one." Evidently they were professors of religion; they had grown up among
the wheat; and they had been sown "while men Plept." There are
children of the wicked one, even in the church of God; they enter
in while the servants are asleep.
Thus men, by nature, lie in the power of Sata- ~ they are undo




THE TWO FAMILIES.                    613
his guidance; they uphold and further, obediently and fthitl fully,
the interests of his kingdom in the world. Can you be at ease, my
dear hearers, while listening to this heart-rending truth?  Whom
do you say, is in the power of the wicked one? Is it the immoral
and the profligate? Yes, and you too, though you may be decent
and moral in your outward deportment, if you be unregenerate.
MIy dear hearers, can you pass over this solemn and weighty truth
without being alarmed? What I have advanced are the words of
God, and His declarations are of the highest importance. You are
sure to feel them as such. Fall prostrate before the throne of grace,
whenever you get an opportunity, and implore the Holy Spirit of
God to show you clearly whether you be of God, or in the power
of Satan.
The state of the world, under the dominion, and in the possession of the wicked one, is most pitiable. " 01 that my head were
waters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day
and night" over the miserable condition of mankind. Satan,
whither dost thou take ungodly men? Ah I he takes them to the
dark and awful den of hell. Those solemn words of our Lord,
struck my mind very forcibly the other day: "Depart from Me, ye
cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels."
Having served the devil in your life, depart to him-enter his den
— let your portion be in that flame which was kindled for him.
HIaving labored diligently for him, go and suffer with him. Depart,
ye cursed, to the abode of the devil. Some of you may feel at ease
now, though in his power; but how will you feel in that day, when
the great Judge of the universe shall address you and say, Depart,
to suffer forever, with that master whom you have been serving.
We observe, in the second place, that the whole world lieth in
the evil thing; in sin.
The expression, " lieth in wickedness," implies,
1. That unregenerate persons lie in sin as their natural element.
They are like a fish in the water. The immense weight which the
fish sustains, would prove fatal to us. But the fish is in his element;
it is his delight to remain therein. Moreover, he is frequently boiled
in the very element, wherein he was wont to play and swim. The
ungodly man lies, and delights in sin as his customary element.
Some lie in drunkenness and intemperance. Blessed be God I such
characters are not so numerous in Wales just now, as they have
been. A drunkard would be an awful sight in these days of total abstinence. I detest the appearance of a drunkard as much as if the
devil should present himself before me. Some sinners lie in adult



614                   JOHN ELIAS.
ery and fornication; some in injustice and dishonesty, and ethers in
coveteousness, and an inordinate love of the world. Why, says
some one, godly men are so. What I godly people coveteous; idolaters. No, no, the miser is so ungodly in the sight of God, as the
drunkard-so detestable as the proud —so loathsome as the adulterer. "The whole world lieth in wickedness." They delight in
levity, in thoughtlessness, in unbelief, in disobedience, in contempt
of God and His ways.
2. Lying in wickedness implies to lie in filth; in the dunghill;
in the lowest state of uncleanness and defilement. Wicked men are
represented as ", wallowing in the mire." Sinner: whatever may be
the character of the sin in which you indulge, it is more detestable
than the mire itself; and you are wallowing in it. 01 the humiliating state to which man has been reduced by the fall.
8. Lying in wickedness imports to lie in a loathsome disease;
in derangement; in prison. This is the real condition of unconverted
men. They are subjected to the ravages of the worst plague; they
lie under the condemnation of death. They would inevitably die
through the dire effects of the former, if the latter had not existed.
God have mercy upon them I they are likely to die eternally under
the awful effects of both together. They are laboring under the
most fatal disease, and at the same time, incarcerated in prison, condemned to die forever. Thus you see what lying in wickedness
means.
I shall not multiply any more words, respecting the misery of
the world; but shall conclude this discourse, in making a few remarks by way of application.
I. I would address myself to the great assembly before me. My
dear hearers, what is the character of your position in this respect?
Do the majority of you lie in wickedness?  How can you remain
so quietly and reposedly in such an awfully dangerous condition?
Ah! the people are infected with a lethargic and morbid disease.
They are deaf; they can not hear-blind; they can not see-dead;
the tremendous thunders of the law do not affect them. Now,
2. I would address myself to those who are of God. I feel a
desire to exclaim upon you: Do you really and seriously reflect upon
the pitiable state of the world? None have ever been rescued from
their condition, more than from hell, except you. The people of the
world themselves are unconscious of their danger; they are in a
state of insensibility. But you, who are of God, have painfully felt
the misery and obnoxiousness of their condition. Believer: dost
thou know anything about the state of the world? Methinks to




THE TWO FAMILIES.                    615
hear some one say, 0  yes, I do, I have been in that state; but have
been rescued by divine grace. I remember being in the jaws of the
roaring lion; he would have devoured me, had not my spiritual
David come to my deliverance. I recollect well the time when I
was laboring under the same fatal disease; and I would have died,
through its ravages, had not the great Physician of souls taken compassion upon me.
Well, thou who art of God, let me entreat thee to remember the
world that still lieth in wickedness. The man who was with Joseph
in prison, and was restored to liberty before him, is truly faulty in
forgetting him, in not praying with the king for his deliverance.
Yea, thou hast, perhaps, left behind thee thy parents, thy wife, thy
children, thy neighbors, etc.; they are actually dying in prison. 0!
how is it that thou dost not feel more deeply and pray more earnestly
for them. Children of Zion: forget not in your prayers the ungodly
world. Frequently approach the King in their behalf. Always
thank Him warmly for your freedom, and implore Him fervently to
have mercy upon those who are imprisoned. Cry out, Lord, save
those who are perishing; save them speedily; according to the
greatness of Thy power, deliver the children of death.
3. I would address myself to those who are dying in wickedness. What words to employ I am at a loss to know. 0! my God,
do Thou assist me. Let me divide you into two different classes.
1. Those of you who are utterly thoughtless, without any con.
cern at all about your state before God. Perhaps you are ready to
tell me, "Mind your own business; we are right enough."  Hear,
O sinner: there is a solemn period before thee, when thy feelings
will be widely different from what they are now. Soon the opinion
which thou entertainest of thyself, will undergo a thorough change.
Thy trial before the tribunal of heaven is not far distant. Unless
thou art delivered from thine insensibility in this, thy day of grace,
I should not at all like to visit thy dying bed, lest thou be a source
of terror to all around thee. Unfeeling sinner: you will be touched
to the quick shortly. Thoughtless sinner: listen, there is an eternity of. intense feeling before thee-thou wilt feel thy sins, and thy
misery, under the infliction of the Divine wrath, unless thou art
speedily delivered by the free grace of God.
2. Let me speak a few words to those of you who, I hope, are
in some degree sensible of the danger. and misery of your state;
and ready to cry out, what must we do? We know that we are
with the world: we doubt not the truthfulness of the declaration
contained in your text, ", The whole worL lieth in wickedness:" and




616                   JOHN ELIAS.
we are among them. What shall we do? Our case is hopeless
No, my fellow-sinners, there is hope yet for you. What? will not
the world be condemned? Yes, the world will be condemned.
" Tat ye may not be condemned with the world," says the apostle.
The world will be damned. Why, behold you have given us up to
die in despair. No, no, there is hope still for you. You ask me,
What is your ground for saying so? Why, is it not out of the world
that the Lord redeems sinners. It is out of the world that Jesus
draws sinners after Him. The world is the very quarry in which
God digs up stones for the erection of His heavenly temple. This
is the only forest in which he obtains materials for beams and pillars in His holy temple. O  myriads upon myriads will sweetly
sing one day, "He hath redeemed us from the evil world." Whence
does God save sinners?  Out of the world.  Whence did He
take Saul of Tarsus? From the world. Where did He find those
who are now glorified in heaven? In the world. Blessed be God I
The Gospel proclaims a deliverance from ", this present evil world."
Who is it that dares to attack the roaring lion? Why, our spiritual
David; He is not afraid of the strong man armed; He has rescued
many a lamb out of his mouth, and brought him to His own fold.
Who will undertake to open the prison door? Our blessed Jesus.
Who will break asunder the chains of sin? Our dear Redeemer.
This is the great design of His mediatorial work. " That thou may.
est say to the prisoners, Go forth; to them that are in darkness, Show
yourselves." He descended from heaven to earth that He might say
to the prisoners, Go forth-He lived in poverty and indigence-He
died in agony and shame-He rose from the dead, bursting asunder
the barriers of the grave-He trampled upon and bruised the head
of the old serpent, even the devil, that He might say to the prisoners,
Go forth. 0 1 glorious and heavenly Jesus, say so this very moment.
He has authority to say, Go forth. The debt has been paid; the
throne of God is forever satisfied; death and hell have been conquered. Having completed these great and stupendous undertakings,
now He needs only to speak from His throne, in order to set the
prisoners at liberty. Blessed Jesus I let us hear Thy sweet and
all-powerful voice. The prison doors will obey Thy voice; a word
from Thee will cause the iron and brazen bars of sin to go aside.
Through the power of Thy word sinners will obtain eternal re,
demption. Amen.




ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO TITLES OF DISCOURSES.
A Practical Belief in the Divine Existence........   acy... ii 462
Admonition to the Fallen............ Basil... i. 74
Bearing the Reproach of Christ..........  Cain....   ii. 11
Challenge to the Papists...........  Jewel....             i. 145
Christ all and in all.............. Charles.    i..    584
Christ the only Way of Salvation.........  Superville..   ii. 121
Christ the Eternal God............. Athanasus...    i. 52
Christ's real Body not in the Eucharist......  Wickliffe...  i. 116
Christ's Resurrection a Pattern of our New Life... Schleiermacher.    iL 524
Christ's Triumph in the Resurrection........ Donne..              i. 153
Excessive Grief at the Death of Friends......     Chrysostom..   i. 80
Faith in Christ the great Want of the Soul......    Olin.....    ii. 527
Glorying in the Cross of Christ.........Laurin..    ii. 244
God dwelling among Men............ Staughtaon...  ii. 504
Man magnified by the Divine Regard........            Watson....  i. 423
Making Light of Christ and Salvation........    Baxtr..           i. i. 209
Modern Infidelity Considered...........  Hall (Robert)..  i 362
Obedience the true Test of Love to Christ...... Robinson....    i. 349
Oration over Basil the Great.........    Gregory Nazianzen  i. 67
Oration over the Prince of Cond......... Bosset.... ii. 22
Oration over Marshal Turenne.......... Fcher.... ii. 70
Preparation to Consult the Oracles of God...... Irving.....  ii. 336
Seeking another's Wealth............    Kiwan....  i. 585
Sermon of the Plow............. Latimer..                i. 127
Sinners in the Hands of an angry God.......    Edwards (Jonathan) ii. 394
The Activity of Faith............. Hooker..              ii. 368
The Barren Fig-Tree, or the Fruitless Professor.... Bunyan...    i. 224
The Believer Crucified with Christ.......   Hall (Joseph)..  i 166
The Christian's Victory over Death.........    Logan....          ii. 294
The Compassion of Christ for weak Believers..... Davies....  i. 409
The Creator seen in the Creations........   Cy....  i.  60
The Crucifixion of Christ............ Barrow....    i. 263
The Ennobling Nature of Christianity........   Zolikofer.....  i. 485
The Expulsive Power of a New Affection...... Chalmer..   Ii. 319
The Divinity and Right Use of thq Scriptures.....    Herder...  i 496
The Duty and Rewards of Patience.........Tertullian..                i. 25
Tbe Dying Sinner..............ii. 




618 ALPHABETICAL INDEX TO TITLES OF DISCOURSES.
TrTL                                        PIEACE.                PAC
The Fall and Recovery of Man.........           a.               ii. 595
The Flight of the Prophetic Angel......... Livingston... ii. 424
The Foolish Exchange.............  Taylor....  i. 567
The Form of Godliness without its Power......    Chillingworth..  i. 192
The Gathering of the People to Shiloh....... Erskine.... ii. 229
The ('lory of the Saints in Heaven.........  Carson....  i. 594
The Goal and the Complaint........... Harms....  i 534
The Gospel for the Poor............ Mason....   ii. 486
The Gospel Jubilee.............. Jay...                         i. 397
The Great Assize..............   Wesley....                L 318
The Heavenly Inheritance........... Summerfield.. ii. 539
The Heavy-laden invited to Christ.........  Walker.... ii. 271
The Hour and the Event of all Time........ Blair..... ii. 282
The Image of God in Man........... South.....  i. 284
The Imprisonment and Deliverance of Peter..... Foster.....  i. 411
The Incarnation of Christ..........       Reinhard....  i. 515
The Jarrings of Heaven Reconoiled.......    Leland.... ii. 453
The Joyful Tidings of Salvation.......... Mather.... ii. 384
The Kingdom of Christ.............  Griffin... ii. 470
The Kingdom of God.............  WhifleM....  i. 342
The Lord's Prayer..............  Cyprian....  i. 36
The Method and Fruits of Justification....... Luther....  i. 457
The Mysteries of Christianity..........  Vinet..... ii. 183
The Nature and Control of the Passions....... Saurin.... ii. 157
The One Hundred and Thirty-ninth Psalm...... Edwards (B. B.). ii. 549
The Passion of Jesus Christ........... Bourdatoue... ii. 45
The Prayer of the Thief on the Cross......   JPCrie.... ii 302
The Reasonableness of a Resurrection........  Tillotson....  i 251
The Redeemer's Tears over Lost Souls.......     Howe.....  L 236
The Responsibility of Man for his Belief..... Dod.... ii. 568
The Restoring of Sight to the Blind........ Augustine...  i. 94
The Sacrifice of Abraham............ Abbadie..                 ii. 105
The Saint's Converse with God..........   enlon...    ii. 96
The Scriptures Superior to other Manifestations.... Reach....         i. 229
The Security of God's Children..........   elancthon..             i.  74
The Sin of David in the Case of Uriah.......  White..               ii. 442
The Small Number of the Saved......... Massillon..                  ii. 137
The Social and Unsocial Virtues......... Reinhard..                i. 520
The Source and Bounds of Kingly Power...... Knox...                    ii. 206
The Sublime Issue of the Work of Religion...... Beded....   ii. 514
The Temptations of Satan............ Spener....  i. 481
The Terrors of Conscience...........   Atterbury...  i. 306
The Three Divine Sisters............ Adams....  i. 179
The Two Families.............. Elias....    iL 60
The Voices out of the Graves..........  Theremin... 51
The Yoke Easy and tb* Burden Light.......  Wolfe..                  L.  6 I




GENERAL INDEX TO SUBJECTS OF DISCOURSES.
UDO.                                     PREACHEUT            toG
Albtbam, the Sacrifice of...........    Abbadi.... 105
Admonition to the Fallen...........   Basil.....    i. 74
cAbtion, Expulsive Power of a New......   Chalmers...   319
e4iW  Responsibility for............   Dod..... ii. 568
bllever, crucified with Christ.......... Hall (Joseph).         166
ealrity, one of the three Divine Sisters...         Ad. Adams....     i. 179
QCbity, the Duty and Deficiency of........  Kirwa.... i. 585
t all and in all.............    Charles..    ii. 584
(bst giving Sight to the Blind.........    ugustine...  94
Mist, making Light of...........    Baxter....      209
arit the Eternal God....               Athanasius.       i. 52
Cbrist the only Way of Salvation........    Superville..    i. 121
Christ's Compassion for weak Believers...... Davies....       409
Christ's Crucifixion.............. Barrow..    i. 263
Christ's Death the Great Event of all Time..Blair..                   ii. 282
Christ's Incarnation..........       Reinhard....   i. 515
ChMist's Kingdom........                       Gin.... ii. 410
Christ's Passion............... Bourdoue... ii.  45
Crist's Resurrection a Type of the New Life.... Schleiermacher.   i 624
Bhdst's Tears over Lost Souls........         Howe.....  i. 236
Crist's Triumph in the Resurrection......        Donne...       i. 153
Christ's Yoke Easy and His Burden Light......  Wolfe...   i. 607
btistianity, ennobling Nature of.........      Zoliikofer... i. 485
hiOistianity, Mysteries of..........        Vinet....   183
COndescension, the Divine........... Staughton...     504
Coascience, the Terrors of............  Atterbury...  i. 306
Gross, glorying in the.............   Laurin...     244
Apid, his Sin in the Case of Uriah........  White...   ii. 442
Death, excessive Grief at the of Friends....... Chrysostom...  i. 80
Death, the Christian's Triumph over....... Logan...  ii. 294
Bacharist, the real Body of Christ not in the.....    Wicklife....       i 116
Faith, activity of............. Hooker...  ii 368
Faith; one of the three Divine Sisters...... Adams..       i. 179
Faith, the great Want of the Soul......... Olin....          ii. 527
Full and Recovery of Man........... Evans...                ii. 595
Families, the Two.............. Elias..... ii 605
Jig-Tree, the Barren, or Fruitless Professor......  Bunyan..      i. 224
Glorying in the Cross of Christ..........   Laurin... ii 224
Goal, the Christian's............  Harms....  i. 534
God dwelling among Men............ Staughton..   ii 504
God, existence of...............  fMacy.... ii. 462
Godliness, the'orm of without its Power.....   Chillingworth..  i 192




620  GENERAL INDEX TO SUBJECTS OF DISCOURSES.
UOJcT.                                     PBEACHEr              PAG
Gospel, flight of Angel with..               L.. ngston... iL 424
Gospel, for the Poor............. Mason..... i 486
Graves, the Voices out of........                     Theemi...  i. 647
Heaven, its happiness.......... Bedell..,. ii14
Heaven, Jarrings of Reconciled by Christ.... Leland.... i 453
Heaven, the Glory of the Saints in.......              Carson....   i. 94
Eeaven, the Inheritance of the Saints........ Summerfie.. ii. 639
Heavy-laden invited to Christ..........  War.... i 271
Hope, one of the three Divine Sisters......   dams....   i 175
Infidelity, Modern...........   a aU (Robert).. i 362
Jubilee, the Gospel...........     Jay.... 
Judgment, the Final................  i. 1
J.ustification, the Method and Fruits of.Luther....  i.  4r5
Kingdom of Christ.............. Griin.. 
Kingdom of God............... Whitfield....  L. U
Kings, the Source and Limits of their Power......    K.....      
Man, made in God's Image..........   South..... 
Man magnified by God's Regard........  Wason...      i. 
Mysteries of Christianity...........   net..     
Obedience the Test of Piety........... Robin....  i 
Oracles of God, preparation to Consult the..... Irving... U 
Oration over Basil the Great...........                Gregory Naann  i. 
Oration over the Prince of CondO........  Bossuet.... i 
Oration over Marshal Turenne..........   Flechier.....iL  V
Papists, Challenge to.............  Jewell.....  i 
Patience, Duty and Rewards of.......    Tertulia..               1...
Passions, their Nature and Control........ ur....   ii. 1iT
Peter, his Imprisonment and Deliverance.......Foster.                   411.   i  11
Plow, Sermon of the........             Latimer.... i. IST
Prayer of the Thief on the Cross........          Cie..        5. i
Prayer, the Duty and Manner of...........
Prayer, the Lord's............. Cypan...  L 
Psalms, the Book of; and how to read.......    Edwards (B. B.). ii 4"
Religion, the Sublime End of its Work.......    Bedll..... iiL 
Resurrection, Reasonableness of a.........    loton....       Sl
Resurrection, Christ's Triumph in the........ Donne....   i 
Resurrection, Christ's a Type of the New Life.... S. chermacher... 
Saints, their Security..........ela.tho....         1thn 
Salvation, the glad Sound of..........     Mather....  ii. 
Satan, his Temptations.......n.....   Se... eri.1
Saved, the Small Number of..... Massillon.1 i 8i l
Scriptures, Divinity and Right Use of....He..e...    i. 4.
Scriptures, how to Study them......n....     in.                 3
Scriptures, Superior to other Spiritual Manifestations.  Leach.... i. i.  39
Sinner, the dying.................... ii 
Sinners, in the Hands of an angry God......    dwards (Jnathan) ii 
Shiloh, the Gathering of the People to.......    kine.... it.2
Soul, the Folly of its Exchange.... Taylor...    i; I,"{
Souls, the Lost, Christ weeping over........ Howe...  1. 
Virtues, the Social and Unsocial......              harAd.... i  O




INDEX TO TEXTS OF DISCOURSES
em.           PmIAMmc           PAOE,BOOK             PmAOu.    faGs
mESf,                                   HMATTHEW,
l 27T....... SOurH........... i. 284   iv. 3.......... SPENER.........i 461
xxii. 10...... ABBADIE........ii. 105    vi. 9.........CYPRIAN......  L  36
i     0.......ERSKINE........ii 229    xi. 28.........WALKER......ii. 271
xi. 30...........WOLFE......... i. 607
LzvI Icus,                                 xii. 20....   DAVIE.........ii. 409
=v. 10.......JAY......... i. 397    xiv. 1-3....A...TTERBURY......i 306
xvi. 26........TAYLOR.......i. 567
DmBONOMY,                                  xx. 30-34.....AUGUSTINE......i. 94
8.... 85..EDWARDS (JON.)..ii. 394    xxii. 5.... BAXTER.........i. 209
xxvi. 26.....WICKLIFFE.......L 116
v12,14, 16..BSSUT. ii.          xxviL 612,......ii 61 TEREJMIN..    547
ri 12, 14, 16...Boss~T.......ii.   22
LuxE,...mtWEL,.I         i. 80..........REIHARD......... 51
ii.  1-14........ REINHARD.......i 520
iv. 27.....   MASSILLON......ii. 137
vL 27...... STAUGTON............80
vu. 12....RUE..   80..i. 54                  vii. 22........MASON..........ii. 486
xiii. 8, 9......BUNYAN.........i. 224
Vi=... 3. ~~~~,BEDuT*,..,.... 5616,   ixvi. 31........ EACH.........i. 299
xix. 41, 42.....HOWE...........i. 237
xxiii. 27, 28....OURDALOUE......iL   45
Tii 17........WATSON.423    xxii 32.M......... 302
xxviii. 23...CY........... i. 60
JOHN,
v. 39....... IRVING.......ii. 336
viii 5........ZOLLIKOFER......i. 4856. 28....ELANOTHON....  474
xlv. 7, 8......ATHANASIUS.....i. 52    Xiv....     OLIN.....     77.  15...MATHERi......ii. 384    xiv. 6.........SUPERVILLE......1 121
cXXxixi. 1-24.EDWARDS (B.B.).ii. 549    xiv. 15......ROBINSON.       i...  349
xvii. 1.........iBLURi....ii. 282
xiv. 12.........D.. 5..ii  60  ACTS,
ii 36........ DONNE....... L 153
IZATA,                                     xii 1-11.......FOSTER.......   411
xxvi 13-16............h  206    xxvi 8.......TILLOTSON.......L 25;
Juximm,                                  ROMANS,
ix. 1..........        *..L  74   i. 20..........MACY......... i 462
iv. 12........ HEIOOKER......ii. 368
1 MAooAE,                                  V. 15.       EVANS....ii. 59
ix...       LCH..al.......ii  70    vi. 4-8......... SCrIRMACHE.i 624




822             INDEX TO TEXTS OF DISCOURSES.
OOK           PREAHER.         PAGE    30B0.          PREA ER.M
0OMANs (continued),                    COLOSSIANS (continued),
viii. 18.... CARSON..... 4....i. 594   i 20..........LELAND......I i 
x. 18........GREG. NAZIANZEN i  67   iii 11........CHARLES..... 
xiv. 10.....W...WESLEY........... 318
Xi. 17.........WHITFIELD.. 342  1 THESSALONIANS,
xV. 4.........LATIMER..i. 127   iv. 13...   C.HRYSOSTOM....... 80
xv. 4-13......HERDER.....i..... 496   v. 17......... FNLO   N........ii 6
1 CORINTHIANS,                          2 TIMOTHY,
i 23......... BARRW......i. 264   iii. 1-.......-. CmHLINGWORTH.i     M
ii. 9.........VINET..       ii. 183
x. 24.       KIRWAN... i. 585 HEBREWS,
Xi 23..........JEWELL..... i   145    xiii. 13... CALVIN.         ii. 11
xiii. 13......A......   i 179
xv. 55-57......LOGAN.........ii. 294 JAMES,
i. 4............TERTULLIAN....i  -
GALATIANS,
ii. 20....    HALL (JOSEPH)...i. 166 i PETER,
iv. 1-7.....LUTHER.....i  457  Si. 1.S....... 7
iv. 14...M'LAUIRN..... ii. 244
2 PATER,
EPHESIANS,                               i 11....SMERELD...i: U
ii 12......HALL (ROBERT)...i. 362
1 JOHN,
PHILIPPIANS,                             ii. 15..........CHALMERS........ L1 
ii. 12-14...... HARM.........i. 534    V. 19.  E    LIAS.. 
O0 AsNIL,                               REVELATIONS,. 16..........GRFrinx..ii. 470    xiv. 6, 7.....LVIGmot......t.
Tl EN-.