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SERMONS

BY THE LATE

REV. EDWARD PAYSOX, D. D.

PASTOR OF THE

SECOND CHURCH IN PORTLAND.

PORTLAND:
SHIRLEY AND HYDE, 7, EXCHANGE-STREET.

SOLD BY PSIRCE AND WILLIAMS, BOSTON : JOHN P. HAVEN,
NEW YORK : AND E. LITTELL, PHILADELPHIA.

1828,

DISTRICT OF MAINE, SS.
DISTRICT CLERK'S OFFICE.
"DE IT REMEMBERED, That on the first day of August, A. D. 1828, in the United
¦*-* States of America, Ann Louisa Payson, ofthe said District, has deposited in this
office, the title of a book, the right whereof she claims as proprietor, in die words fol
lowing, to wit :
" Sermons, By the late Rev. Edward Payson, D. D. pastor of the second Church
in Portland."
In conformity to the act of Congress of the United States, entitled, " An Act for the
encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the au
thors and proprietors of such copies, during the times tlierein mentioned :" and also to an
act, entitled, " An Act supplementary to an Act for the encouragement of learning, by
securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such
copies, during the times therein mentioned ; and extending the benefits thereof to the arts
of designing, engraving and etching historical and other prints."
JOHNMUSSEY, } <*£*$*££*»
A true Copy as of record :
Attest, JOHN MUSSEY, Clerk D. C. Maine.

SHIRLEY AND HYDE, PRINTERS.

ADVERTISEMENT.

The history of this volume is quickly told. On the death of its lamented
author, an extensive and urgent desire was expressed for the publication of
some of those pulpit addresses, the delivery of which had been so greatly bless
ed. This desire, though perfectly natural and reasonable, would have. been un
availing, but for the confident belief, that the publication would subserve the
cause of religion. The thought, that his labors should be lost lo the rest of the
world, was so irreconcilable with the feelings of some of Dr. Payson's most
judicious hearers, that, long before his last sickness, they solicited him to pre
pare a selection of his Sermons for the press ; but his strong and uniform aver
sion to printing his own productions, prevented his compliance, till a few days
before his decease. He then, from his general recollection of their contents,
directed a number to be sepai'ated from the mass, out of which he was willing
a selection should be made, and to which it must be confined. It is not known,
that his restriction has been violated ; though, from causes which need not be
mentioned, it became impossible to identify every one, thus separated, with
absolute certainty.
Should any glance at the volume, and inquire, Are these the Sermons, which
procured for their author such astonishing popularity, and wrought with such
power upon his numerous audience *? — it must be conceded, that many things ac
companied their delivery, and contributed to their effect, which do not appear
in print. There was an unaffected earnestness, a glowing intensity of feeling,
a peculiarity of expression and utterance, a manner wholly original and indes
cribable, which will not attend their perusal, except in the minds of those, who
were accustomed to hear him. The reader will not feel the immediate influ
ence of those prayers, which disarmed criticism, which awed the most thought
less, which brought them directly before Infinite Majesty, and made them feel
that they had business of greater importance, than to criticise or cavil.
It should also be stated, that, in several instances, the manuscripts ended in
the midst of a sentence, or near the commencement of a paragraph; — leaving
the editor this only alternative, either to pause, before coming to the defective
portion, or else to supply the defect himself, — the latter he has rarely had the
presumption to attempt. These absent portions, as supplied by the preacher,
were probably the most impressive parts of these discourses.
It was Dr. Payson's practice to preach, at least, half the time without writing.

IV
His unwritten Sermons were as regularly planned, and as faithfully studi
ed, as those which he penned; and his quick perception, ready memory, power
of illustration, and the fervor excited by the very exercise of addressing an as
sembly of immortals, to whom his message was to be a savor of eternal life, or
death, — gave an impressiveness to his unwritten discourses, perhaps, even be
yond what attended his written Sermons. His great reason for writing at all,
was, the exhausting effect, upon his physical powers, of preaching constantly
without notes. It appears to have been no part of Dr. Payson's concern, to
write a great Sermon; but the question, which seems to have been uppermost
in his mind, was, how shall I present this subject so as to accomplish the most
goodl And in answering this question he consulted the capacity of ordinary
hearers. Hence the great simplicity of his language, even in his boldest flights ;
hence the plainness and directness of his address, and a greater difiuseness of
style, than he would otherwise have adopted.
In judging of these Sermons as intellectual efforts, it should also be remem
bered, that, besides the ceaseless calls for pastoral labor by a very numerous
flock, and other demands upon his time, the preparing and preaching of three
such Sermons a week, was the regular employment of Dr. Payson, during the
greater part of his ministry. He seldom failed to meet his pastoral charge on
the Sabbath, and at the weekly lecture; and the powers of his mind appear,
not so much in single discourses, as in the general excellence of all, and that
almost " infinite variety," which they exhibit, in the manner of presenting and
enforcing truth and duty. He never ' nods.' While there is an obvious differ
ence between his early and late productions, which shows a rapid progress of
mind ; there is a surprising equality in those which belong to the same period
of his ministry, and this circumstance has increased the difficulty of making the
selection. The preceding suggestions have not arisen from the slightest conviction, that
the following Sermons need any apology. On the contrary, it is believed, they
will fill a place unoccupied in this species of literature, and be found a valuable
accession to its riches. «
It was originally contemplated, that the volume should include those Sermons
of Dr. Payson, which have already been published. But on further examina
tion of the manuscripts, it was thought, that subscribers and the public would
be more obliged and profited by originals, possessing equal excellence ^espe
cially, as many are necessarily suppressed, which are not less deserving of the
public eye. As an act of justice to the author, however, one is inserted, which
has already appeared, that the reader, by a comparison of the others with this,
might have an opportunity to judge what would have been their appearance,
had they been revised by the Doctor's own hand. — For the arrangement of the
Sermons, their titles, and some minor things, the editor is responsible.
The volume, it is believed, will fulfil every promise held out in the propos
als; and contains a miniature likeness of its author, in addition. It is com
mended to that Spirit, who has already set his seal to its truths.

*

CONTENTS.

SERMON I.
The Bible above ail Price. page 9
SERMON II.
God's Ways above Men's. 37
For my tlioughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the
Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than
your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. — Isaiah Iv. 8, 9.
SERMON III.
All Things created for Christy 56
All things were created by him and for him.— Oolossians i. 16.
SERMON IV.
The old Way which wicked Men have trodden. 71
Hast thou marked the old way which wicked men have trodden ? Which were cut
down out of time, whose foundation was overthrown with a flood : which said
unto God, Depart from us ; and what can the Almighty do for them ? — Job xxii.
15, 16, 17.
SERMON V.
Sins estimated by the Light of Heaven. 92
Thou hast set our iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light of thy counte
nance. — Psalm xc. 8.
SERMON VI.
Men tried and found defective. 110
Thou ari weighed in tho balances, and art found wanting. — Daniel v. 27.

VI
SERMON VII.
Our Sins infinite in Number and Enormity. 130
Is not thy wickedness great ? and thine iniquities infinite ? — Job xxii 5.
SERMON VIII.
The Wicked, through Pride, refuse to seek God. 151
The wicked, through the pride of his countenance, will not seek after God. — Psalm
x. i.
SERMON IX.
Recollections of God painful to the Wicked. 170
I remembered God, and was troubled.— Psalm lxxvii. 3.
SERMON X.
Sinners wilful and perverse. 1 87
And the Lord said, Whereunto shall I liken the men of this generation ? and to what
are they like*? They are like unto children sitting in the market-place, and cal
ling one to another, and saying, We have piped unto you, and ye have not dan
ced -, we have mourned unto you, and ye have not wept. For John the Baptist
came neither eating bread nor drinking wine j and ye say, He hath a devil.
Tho Son of Man is come eating and drinking •, and ye say, Behold a gluttonous
man, and a wine-bibber, a friend of publicans and sinners ! But wisdom is jus
tified of all her children. — Luke vii. 31 — 35.
SERMON XI.
Amiable Instincts not Holiness. 205
And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly ; and I pray God your whole spir
it and soul and body, be preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord Jesus
Christ. — 1 Thessalonians v. 23.
SERMON XII.
The promised Fruit of Christ's Sufferings. 226
He shall see ofthe travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied. — Isaiah Hii. 11.
SERMON XIII.
Messiah's Victory predicted and desired. 245
Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O Most Mighty, with thy glory and thy majesty ;
and in thy majesty ride prosperously, because of truth and meekness and righ-
,|eousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things, Thine arrows
ace sharp in the heart of the Kingls enemies, whereby the people fall under
lhae. — Psalm xlv. 3, 4, 5.

Vll
SERMON XIV.
Sinners entreated to hear God's Voice. 263
The Holy Ghost saith, To-day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts. —
Hebrews iii. 7, 8.
SERMON XV.
The Difficulty of escaping the Damnation of
Hell. 285
How can ye escape the damnation of hell? — Matthew xxiii, 33.
SERMON XVI.
The dead in Sin made alive. 308
And you halh he quickened, who were dead ia trespasses and sins ; wherein, in time
past, ye walked, according to the course of this world, according to the prince
of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedi
ence -, among whom also we all had our conversation in times past, in the lusts of
the flesh, fulfilling the desires of our flesh, and of the mind ; and were by nature
the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for his
great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quick
ened us together with Christ ; (by grace are ye saved 5) and hath raised us up
together, and made us sit together in heavenly places in Christ Jesus ; that in the
ages to come be might shew the exceeding riches of his grace, in his kindness
toward us, through Christ Jesus.— Ephesians ii. 1 — 7.
SERMON XVII.
The universal Law of Forgiveness. 326
If thy brother trespass against thee, rebuke him *, and if he repeat, forgive him. —
And if he trespass against thee seven times in a day, and seven times in a day
turn again to thee, saying, I repent, thou shalt forgi/e him. — Luke xvii. 3, 4.
SERMON XVIII.
Fraud exposed and condemned. 342
It is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer : but when he is gone his way, then he
boasteth.— Proverbs xx. 14.
SERMON XIX.
The Mark of Deliverance. 357
And the Lord said unto him, Go through the midst of the city, and set a mark up
on the foreheads ofthe men that sigh and cry for all the abominations that be done
in the midst thereof. And to the others he said in my hearing, Go ye after him
through the city and smite ; let not your eye spare, neither have ye pity 5 slay
utterly old and young ; but come not near any man upon whom is the mark.—
Ezekiel ix. 4, 5, 6.

vm

SERMON XX.
The Christian Manner of expressing Grati
tude. 381
The Lord give mercy unto the house of Onesiphorus -, for be oft refreshed me, nnd
was not ashamed of my chain. But when he was in Rome, he sought me out ve
ry diligently, and found me. The Lord grant unto him,, that he may find mercy
ofthe Lord in that day.— 2 Timothy i. 16, 17, 18.
SERMON XXI.
The timely Presence and Salutation of Jesus. 401
And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst ot them, aud saith unto
them, Peace be unto you. — Luke xxiv. 36.
SERMON XXII.
A Festival kept to the Lord. 416
When ye have gathered in the fruit of the land, ye shall keep a feast unto the
Lord. — Leviticus xxiii. 39.
SERMON XXIII.
The Second Coming of Christ. 444
Behold he cometh with clouds •, and every eye shall see him, and they also which
pierced him ; and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of him : Even so.
Amen.— Revelation i. 7.
SERMON XXIV.
Equality of Men with Angels. 462
For they are equal unto the angels. — Luke xx. 36.
SERMON XXV.
The Punishment of the Wicked dreadful and
interminable. 484
Where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched.— Mark ix. 44.

SERMON I.

THE BIBLE ABOVE ALL, PRICE.

PREACHED BEFORE THE BIBLE SOCIETY OF MAHE, MAY 5, 1814.

There are two objects, which a speaker who
addresses his fellow-beings on an occasion like the
present, ought ever to keep in view. Of these ob
jects, the first, and, with respect to his hearers, the
most important, is, to induce them to prize as it
deserves, a volume, which, notwithstanding its un
rivalled claims to attention, is too generally neg
lected. The second is, to procure their assistance,
in gratuitously distributing this volume among their
destitute fellow-creatures. These objects, though
distinct, are intimately connected; for if we can
be induced suitably to prize the Sacred Scriptures
ourselves, there will be little difficulty in persuad
ing us to aid, in communicating them to others ;
and there is but too much reason for presuming,
that he, who is not desirous to impart this treasure
to all around him, knows nothing of its real value,
nor of the temper which it is designed to produce,
' 2

10 THE BIBLE
With respect to a part, and we trust a very con
siderable part of the present assembly, the objects,
which we have mentioned, may be considered as
already attained. There are, we doubt not, many
before us, who entertain a profound veneration for
the Bible ; and in whose breasts it has an advo
cate, who pleads its cause, and that of the desti
tute, far more powerfully and successfully than we
can do. To such persons, nothing need be said in
favor -of a book, which not only affords them sup
port and consolation under the troubles of life, but
enables them to contemplate death with pleasure,
and, to borrow its own language, makes them
"wise unto salvation." If all present are of this
description, our object is obtained ; and farther
remarks are needless. But it is presumable, that
in every assembly, many are to be found, who,
through inattention to the subject, or from some
other cause, have formed very inadequate concep
tions of the worth of this volume ; and who, conse
quently, do not feel the infinite importance of put
ting it into the hands of others. It is also notorious,
that even among such as profess to venerate the
scriptures, there are not a few, who seem to regard
them as deficient in those qualities, which excite
interest and attention. It may not be improper,
therefore, on an occasion like the present, to make
a few remarks with a design to shew, that while
the scriptures are incalculably valuable and impor
tant, viewed as a revelation from heaven ; they are
also in a very high degree interesting and deserv-

ABOVE ALL PRICE. H
ing of attention, considered merely as a human
composition. As the whole volume of scripture
will form the subject of these remarks, it was
thought unnecessary to select any particular part
of it as a text.
Were we permitted to adduce the testimony of
the scriptures in their own favor, as a proof that
their contents are highly interesting, our task
would be short, and easily accomplished. But it
is possible, that to this testimony some might think
it a sufficient reply, to apostrophize the sacred
volume in the language of the captious Jews to
our Saviour ; — " Thou bearest record of thyself;
thy record is not true." No similar objection can
be urged, however, against our availing ourselves
of the testimony, which eminent uninspired men
have borne in favor of the scriptures. From the al
most innumerable testimonies of this nature, which
might easily be adduced, we shall select only that
of Sir William Jones, a Judge of the supreme court
of judicature in Bengal — a man, says his learned
biographer, who, by the exertion of rare intellect
ual talents, acquired a knowledge of arts, sciences,
and languages, which has seldom been equalled,
and scarcely, if ever, surpassed. " I have carefully
and regularly perused the scriptures," says this truly
great man, " and am of opinion, that this volume,
independent of its divine origin, contains more sub
limity, purer morality, more important history, and
finer strains of eloquence, than can be collected
from all other books, in whatever language they

12 THE BIBLE
may have been written." How well he was qualifi
ed to make this remark, and how much it implied
in his lips, may be inferred from the fact, that he
was acquainted with twenty-eight different lan
guages, and with the best works, which had been
published in most'of them. That a volume, which,
in the opinion of such a man, is thus superior to
all other books united, cannot be so insipid and
uninteresting a composition, as many seem to im
agine, it must be needless to remark. That his
praises, though great and unqualified, are in no
respect unmerited, it would be easy, were it neces
sary, to prove, by appropriate quotations from the
book which he so highly extols. But its morality
will be more properly considered in a subsequent
part of this discourse ; and its unrivalled eloquence
and sublimity are too obvious, and too generally
acknowledged, to require illustration. If any im
agine that he has estimated too highly, the historical
information which this volume contains, we would
only request tnem to peruse it with attention ; and
particularly to consider the assistance which it
affords, in accounting for many otherwise inexplica
ble phenomena, in the natural, political, and moral
world. A person who has never attended to the
subject, will, on recollection, be surprised to find,
for how large a proportion of his knowledge, he is
indebted to this neglected book.* It is the only
book which satisfactorily accounts, or even pro-
* It will be recollected, that we here refer to such information only,
as uninspired men might communicate.

ABOVE ALL PRICE. IS
fesses to aceount, for the introduction of natural
and moral evil into the world, and for the conse
quent present situation of mankind. To this book
we are also indebted, for all our knowledge of the
progenitors of our race, and of the early ages of
the world ; — for our acquaintance with the manners
and customs of those ages; — for the origin and
explanation of many remarkable traditions, which
have extensively prevailed, and for almost every
thing which is known, of many once flourishing
nations ; especially of the Jews, the most singular
and interesting people, perhaps, that ever existed.
It is the Bible alone, which, by informing us of the
deluge, enables us to account, satisfactorily, for
many surprising appearances in the internal struc
ture of the earth, as well as for the existence of
marine exuviae on the summits- of mountains, and
in other places far distant from the sea. By the
same volume we are assisted in accounting for the
multiplicity of languages, which exist in the world ;
for the degraded condition of the Africans ; for the
origin and universal prevalence of sacrifices ; and
many other facts, of an equally interesting nature.
We shall only add, that while the scriptures throw
light on the facts here alluded to, the existence of
these facts powerfully tends, on the other hand, to
establish the truth and authenticity of the scriptures.
In addition to these intrinsic excellencies of the
Bible, which give it, considered merely as a human
production, powerful claims to the attention of per
sons of taste and learning, there are various circum-

14 THE BIBLE
stances, of an adventitious nature, which render it
peculiarly interesting to a reflecting mind. Among
these circumstances we may, perhaps, not improp
erly, mention its great antiquity. Whatever may
be said of its inspiration, some of the books, which
compose it, are unquestionably the most ancient
literary compositions extant, and, perhaps, the most
ancient that ever were written ; nor is it very im
probable, that letters were first employed in record
ing some parts of them, and that they were written
in the language, first spoken by man. It is also not
only the most aneient book, but the most ancient
monument of human exertion, the eldest offspring
of human intellect, now in existence. Unlike the
other works of man, it inherits not his frailty. All
the cotemporaries of its infancy have long since
perished and are forgotten. Yet this wonderful
volume still survives. Like the fabled pillars of
Seth, which are said to have bid defiance to the
deluge, it has stood, for ages, unmoved in the midst
of that flood, "which sweeps away men, with their
labors, into oblivion; That these circumstances
render it an interesting object of contemplation, it
is needless to remark. Were there now in existence
a tree which was planted; an edifice which was
erected; or any monument of human ingenuity
which was formed, at that early period, in which
some parts of the Bible were written, would it not
be contemplated with the keenest interest; care
fully preserved as a precious relic ; and considered
as something, little less than sacred? With what

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 15
emotions then will a thoughtful mind often open the
Bible ; and what a train of interesting reflections,
is it, in this view, calculated to excite ? While we
contemplate its antiquity, exceeding that of every
object around us, except the works of God, and
view it, in anticipation, as continuing to exist unal
tered until the end of time, must we not feel almost
irresistibly impelled to venerate it, as proceeding
originally from him, who is yesterday, to-day, and
forever the same ; and whose works, like his years,
fail not.
The interest, which this volume excites by its
antiquity, will be greatly increased, if we consider
the violent and persevering opposition it has en
countered ; and the almost innumerable enemies it
has resisted and overcome. We contemplate, with
no ordinary degree of interest, a rock, which has
braved for centuries the ocean's rage, practically
saying, "hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther;
and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." With
still greater interest, though of a somewhat different
kind, should we contemplate a fortress, which, dur
ing thousands of years, had been constantly assault
ed by successive generations of enemies ; — around
whose walls millions had perished; — and to over
throw which, the utmost efforts of human force and
ingenuity had been exerted in vain. Such a rock,
such a fortress, we contemplate in the Bible. For
thousands of years, this volume has withstood, not
only the iron tooth of time, which devours men,
and their works together, but all the physical and

16 THE BIBLE
intellectual strength of man. Pretended friends
have endeavored to corrupt and betray it ; kings
and princes have perseveringly sought to banish it
from the world ; the civil and military powers' of the
greatest empires have been leagued for its destruc
tion ; the fires of persecution have often been light
ed to consume it, and its friends together; and, at
many seasons, death, in some horrid form, has been
the almost certain consequence of affording it an
asylum from the fury of its enemies. It has also
been almost incessantly assailed by weapons of a
different kind, which, to any other book, would
be far more dangerous than fire or sword. In
these assaults, wit and ridicule have wasted all their
shafts ; misguided reason has been compelled,
though reluctantly, to lend her aid, and, after re
peated defeats, has again been dragged to the
field ; the arsenals of learning have been emptied
to arm her for the contest ; and, in search of
means to prosecute it with success, recourse has
been had, not only to remote ages, and distant
lands, but even to the bowels of the earth, and the
region of the stars. Yet still the object of all these
attacks remains uninjured; while one army of its
assailants after another has melted away. Though
it has been ridiculed more bitterly, misrepresented
more grossly, opposed more rancorously, and burnt
more frequently, than any other book, and, per
haps, than all other books united ; it is so far from
sinking under the efforts of its enemies, that the
probability of its surviving until the final consum-

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 17
mation of all things, is now, evidently, much great
er than ever. The rain has descended ; the floods
have come ; the storm has arisen, and beat upon
it ; but it falls not, for it is founded upon a rock.
Like the burning bush, it has ever been in the
flames, yet is still unconsumed ; a sufficient proof,
were there no other, that he who dwelt in the bush,
preserves the Bible.
If the opposition which this volume has success
fully encountered, renders it an interesting object
of contemplation, the veneration which has been
paid to it ; the use which has been made of it, and
the benefits which have been derived from it by the
wise and good, in all ages, make it still more so.
Who would not esteem it a most delightful privilege,
to see and converse with a man, who had lived
through as many centuries as the Bible has existed ;
who had conversed with all the successive genera
tions of men, and been intimately acquainted with
their motives, characters, and conduct; who had
been the chosen friend and companion of the wise
and good, in every age — the venerated monitor, to
whose example and instructions, the wise had as
cribed their wisdom, and the virtuous their virtues ?
What could be more interesting than the sight,
what more pleasing and instructive than the society
of such a man ? Yet such society we may in effect
enjoy, whenever we choose to open the Bible. In
this volume, we see the chosen companion, the
most intimate friend of the prophets, the apostles,
the martyrs, and their pious cotemporaries ; the
3

13 THE BIBLE
gtiide, whose directions they implicitly followed ;
the monitor, to whose faithful warnings and instruc
tions, they ascribed their wisdom, their virtues, and
their happiness. In this volume, we see the book,
in which the deliverer, the king, the sweet psalmist
of Israel delighted to meditate, day and night;
whose counsels made him wiser than all his teach
ers ; and which he describes, as sweeter than honey*
and more precious than gold. This too is the book,
for the sake of which our pious ancestors forsook
their native land and came to this then desolate
wilderness; bringing it with them, as their most
valuable treasure, and, at death, bequeathing it ta
us, as the richest bequest, in their power to make.
From this source, they, and millions more now in
heaven, derived the strongest and purest consola
tion ; and scarcely can we fix our attention on a
single passage in this wonderful book, which has
not afforded comfort or instruction to thousands,
and been wet with tears of penitential sorrow or
grateful joy, drawn from eyes that will weep no
more. There is, probably, not an individual pres
ent, some of whose ancestors did not while on
earth, prize this volume more than life, and breathe
many fervent prayers to heaven, that all their de
scendants, to the latest generation, might be in
duced to prize it in a similar manner. Thousands,
too, have sealed their belief of its truth with their
blood ; rejoicing to shed it in defence of a book,
which, while it led them to the stake, enabled them
to triumph over its tortures. Nor have its effects

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 19
been confined to individuals. Nations have par
ticipated largely in its benefits. Armed with this
volume, which is at once sword and shield, the first
heralds of Christianity went forth conquering, and
to conquer. No less powerful than the wonder
working rod of Moses, its touch crumbled into dust
the temples of paganism, and overthrew, as in a
moment, the immense fabric of superstition and
idolatry, which had been, for ages, erecting. To
this volume alone it is owing, that we are not now
assembled in the temple of an idol; that stocks
and stones are not our deities ; that cruelty, intem
perance and impurity do not constitute our religion ;
and that our children are not burnt as sacrifices at
the shrine of Moloch. To this volume we are also
indebted for the reformation in the days of Luther ;
for the consequent revival and progress of learning ;
and for our present freedom from papal tyranny.
Nor are these benefits, great as they are, all which
it has been the means of conferring on man.
Wherever it comes, blessings follow in its train.
Like the stream, which diffuses itself, and is ap
parently lost among the herbage, it betrays its
course by its effects. Wherever its influence is felt,
temperance, industry, and contentment prevail ;
natural and moral evils are banished, or mitigated ;
and churches, hospitals, and asylums for almost
every species of wretchedness, arise to adorn the
landscape, and cheer the eye of benevolence. Such
are the temporal benefits, which even infideli
ty itself, if it would for once be candid, must

20 THE BIBLE
acknowledge, that the Bible has bestowed on man.
Almost coeval with the sun, its fittest emblem, it
has, like that luminary, from the commencement
of its existence, shed an unceasing flood of light
on a benighted and wretched world. Who then
can doubt, that he who formed the sun, gave the
Bible to be " a light unto our feet, and a lamp to
our path." Who, that contemplates this foun
tain, still full and overflowing, notwithstanding the
millions who have drank of its waters, can doubt,
that it has a real, though invisible connection with
that river of life, which flows forever at the right
hand of God?
Thus far we have considered the Bible as mere
ly a human composition, though, as was unavoida
ble, some rays of divinity have, from time to time,
burst through the cloud, in which we vainly at
tempted to shroud it. But if it be, in this view,
thus valuable and interesting, in what language
shall we describe the importance it assumes, when
viewed as a revelation from God ; — as the book
which has guided millions of immortal beings to
heaven ; — as the book which must guide us there,
if we ever reach those mansions of eternal day !
That it is so, we shall not at present attempt to
prove. In addressing such an assembly, on such
an occasion, we have a right, to take it for grant
ed ; — to proceed on the supposition, that you be
lieve with the apostle, that, " all scripture is given
by inspiration of God." Viewed in this light,
what finite mind can estimate its worth ; or de-

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 21
scribe the reverence and attention, with which it
ought to be regarded ? The ancient Greeks had
one sentence, which they believed, though without
foundation, to have descended from heaven ; and
to evince their gratitude and veneration for this
gift, they caused it to be engraven, in letters of
gold, on the front of their most sacred and magni
ficent temple. We, more favored, have not a sen
tence only, but a volume, which really descended
from heaven ; and which, whether we consider its
contents, or its Author, ought to be indelibly en
graven on the heart of every .child of Adam. Its
Author is the author of our being ; and its con
tents afford us information, of the most satisfacto
ry and important kind, on subjects of infinite con
sequence ; respecting which, all other books are
either silent, or spe^k .only doubtfully and unau-
thoritatively. It informs us, with the greatest
clearness and precision, of, every thing necessary
either to our present, or future happiness ; — of ev
ery thing, in fact, which its Author knows, the
knowledge of which would be really useful to us ;
and thus confers those benefits, which the tempter
falsely pretended would result from eating the for
bidden fruit ; making us as gods, knowing good
and evil. In the fabulous records of pagan anti
quity, we read of a mirror, endowed with proper
ties so rare, that, by looking into it, its possessor
could discover any object which he wished to see,
however remote ; and discern with equal ease, per
sons and things above, below, behind, and before

22 THE BIBLE
him. Such a mirror, but infinitely more valuable
than this fictitious glass, do we really possess in
the Bible. By employing this mirror in a proper
manner, we may discern objects and events, past,
present, and to come. Here we may contemplate
the all-enfolding circle of the Eternal mind ; and
behold a most perfect portrait of Him, whom no
mortal eye hath seen, drawn by his own unerring
hand. Piercing into the deepest recesses of eter
nity, we may behold Him existing independent and
alone, previous to the first exertion of His crea
ting energy. We may see heaven, the habitation
of His holiness and glory, " dark with the excessive
brightness" of his presence ; and hell, the prison
of His justice, with no other light than that, which
the fiery billows of his wrath cast, " pale and
dreadful;" serving only to render " darkness visi
ble." Here too, we may witness the birth of the
world which we inhabit ; — stand as it were, by its
cradle ; and see it grow up from infancy to man
hood, under the forming hand of its Creator. We
may see light at his summons starting into exis
tence and discovering a world of waters, without
a shore. Controlled by His word, the waters sub
side ; and islands and continents appear, not, as
now, clothed with verdure and fertility, but sterile,
and naked as the sands of Arabia. Again he
speaks ; and a landscape appears, uniting the vari
ous beauties of spring, summer, and autumn ; and
extending farther than the eye can reach. Still
all is silent ; not even the hum of insects is heard.

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 23
Mid the stillness of death pervades creation ; till,
in an instant, songs burst from every grove ; and
the startled spectator, raising his eyes from the
carpet at his feet, sees the air, the earth, and the
sea filled with life and activity, in a thousand vari
ous forms. Here too, we may contemplate the
origin and infancy of our race ; — trace from its
source to its termination that mighty river, of
which we compose a part ; and see it separating
into two great branches ; one of which flows back
in a circle, and loses itself in the fountain, whence
it arose ; while the other rushes on impetuously in
an opposite direction, and precipitates itself into a
gulf, which has no bottom. In this glass, we may al
so discover the fountain, whence flow those torrents
of vice and wretchedness which deluge the earth ;
trace the glorious plan of Divine providence run
ning, like a stream of lightning, through the dark and
stormy cloud of sublunary events ; and see light and
order breaking in upon the mighty chaos of crimes,-
revolutions, wars, and convulsions, which have
ever distracted the world ; and which, to a person
unacquainted with the scriptures, must ever appear
to produce no beneficial effect ; but to succeed each
other without order, and to happen without design.
Here too, we may contemplate ourselves, in every
conceivable situation and point of view ; — see our
hearts laid open, and all their secret recesses dis
played ;— trace as on a map, the paths which lead
to heaven and to hell ; ascertain in which we are
walking ; and learn, what we have been, what we

THE BIBLE

are, and what we shall be hereafter. Above all,
we may here see displayed to view, that wonderful
scheme for the redemption of self-destroyed man,
into which, " angels desire to look ;" and without
which the knowledge of God, and of ourselves,
would serve only to plunge us in the depths of
despair. We may behold Him, whom we had pre
viously seen creating the world, lying as a helpless
infant in a manger ; expiring in agonies on the
cross ; and imprisoned in the tomb. We may see
Him, rising, — ascending to heaven, — sitting down
" at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty
on high ;" and there swaying the sceptre of uni
versal empire, and ever living to make intercession
for his people. Finally, we may see Him, coming
in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glo
ry, to judge the world. We may see the dead, at
His command, rising from their graves ; — standing
in awful silence and suspense before His tribunal ;
— and successively advancing, to receive from His
lips, the sentence, which will confer on each of
them an eternal weight of glory, or consign them
forever to the mansions of despair. Such are the
scenes and objects, which the scriptures place be
fore us ; — such the information which they afford.
Who will deny that this information is important ;
or that it is such as we might naturally expect to
find in a revelation from God ? ,
Equally important to the present, and future
happiness of man, are the precepts which the
scriptures inculcate. With the greatest clearness

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 25
and precision ; and with an authority, to which no
other book can pretend, they teach us our duty to
God, to our fellow-creatures, and to ourselves. —
That spiritual kingdom, whose laws they promul
gate, consists in " righteousness, and peace, and
joy in the Holy Ghost ;" and were these laws uni
versally obeyed, nothing but righteousness, peace,
and holy joy, would be found on earth. Should
any one deny this, after perusing them attentively,
it would prove nothing, but the weakness of his
understanding, or the depravity of his heart. They
require us to regard God with filial, and our fel
low-creatures with fraternal affection. They re
quire rulers, to "be just ; ruling in the fear of
God ;" and subjects, to " lead quiet and peaceable
lives in all godliness and honesty." They require
the husband to "love the wife even as himself ;"•
and the wife " to reverence her husband." They
require parents to educate their children " in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord ;" and chil
dren to love, honor, and obey their parents. They
require masters to treat their servants with kind
ness ; and servants to be submissive, diligent, and
faithful. They require of all, temperance, con
tentment, and industry ; and stigmatize, as worse
than an infidel, him, who neglects to provide for
the necessities of his family. They provide for
the speedy termination of animosities, and dissen-
tions, by requiring us to forgive and pray for our
enemies, whenever we pray for ourselves ; and to
make reparation to all, whom we may have injured,

26 THE BIBLE
before we presume to appear with our offerings in
the presence of God. In a word, they teach us,
that, " denying ungodliness, and worldly lusts, we
should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this
present world ; looking for that blessed hope, and
the glorious appearing of the great God and our
Saviour, Jesus Christ." These duties they require
us to perform, with constancy and perseverance,
on penalty of incurring the everlasting displeasure
of our Creator, and its dreadful consequences.
In addition to these instructions and precepts,
the scriptures furnish us with the most instructive
examples — examples, which most plainly and con
vincingly teach us, both what we must shun, and
what we are to pursue. On every rock, where
immortal souls have been wrecked ; — at the en
trance of every path which leads to danger, they
shew us some self-destroyed wretcK, standing, like
a pillar of salt, to warn succeeding travellers not
to approach it ; while at the gate, and in the path
of life, they place many divinely instructed and in
fallible guides, who lead the way, beckon us to fol
low, and point to the*happy mansions, in which it
ends. Knowing how powerfully we are influenced
by the example of those, with whom we associate,
it introduces us to the society of the most amiable
and excellent of our species ; makes us perfectly
acquainted with their characters and pursuits ; ad
mits us into, not only their closets, but their hearts ;
unveils to us all their secret springs of action ; and
shews us the hidden source whence they derived

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 2?
wisdom and strength to subdue their sinful propen
sities, and overcome the world. By opening this
volume, we may, at any time, walk in the garden
of Eden with Adam ; sit in the ark with Noah ;
share the hospitality, or witness the faith of Abra
ham ; ascend the mount of God with Moses ;
unite in the secret devotions of David ; or listen
to the eloquent and impassioned addresses of St.
Paul. Nay more, we may here converse with
Him, who spoke as never man spake ; participate
with the spirits of the just made perfect, in the
employments and happiness of heaven ; and en
joy sweet communion with the Father of our spir
its, through his Son, Jesus Christ. Such is the
society, to which the scriptures introduce us ; —
such the examples, which they present to our imi
tation ; requiring us, to follow them, " who, through
faith and patience, inherit the promises ;" to walk
in the steps of our divine Redeemer ; and to be
" followers of God, as dear children."
Nor does this precious volume contain nothing,
but instructions, precepts, examples, and threaten-
ings. No, it contains also, " strong consolation ;"
— consolation suited to every possible variety and
complication of human wretchedness ; and of suf
ficient efficacy to render the soul, not only resign
ed, but joyful, in the lowest depths of adversity ; —
not only tranquil, but triumphant in the very jaws
of death. It is the appointed vehicle, by which
the Spirit of God, the pron tsed Comforter, com
municates not only his instructions, but his conso-

28 THE BIBLE
lations to the soul. It is, if I may so express it,
the body which he has assumed, in order to con
verse with men ; and he lives and speaks in every
line. Hence it is said to " be quick," or living,
" and powerful." Hence its words " are spirit,
and they are life ;"— the living, life-giving words
of the living God. The consolation which it im
parts, and the blessings which it offers, are such,
as nothing but omnipotent goodness can bestow.
It finds us guilty ; and freely offers us pardon. It
finds us polluted with innumerable defilements ;
and offers us moral purity. It finds us weak and
enslaved ; and offers us liberty. It finds us wretch
ed ; and offers happiness. It finds us dead ; and
offers everlasting life. It finds us " having no
hope and without God in the world," with nothing
before us, " but a certain, fearful looking for of
judgment and fiery indignation ;" and places glo
ry, and honor, and immortality, full in our view ;
and while it urges us to pursue them, by the exer
cise of faith in the Redeemer, and " patient con
tinuance in well doing," it encourages and ani
mates us in the pursuit, by the most condescend
ing offers of assistance, and " exceedingly great
and precious promises ;" promises signed by the
immutable God, and sealed with the blood of his
eternal Son ; — promises which, one would think,
are sufficient to render indolence active ; and
timidity bold. Unfailing pleasures ; durable rich
es ; immortal honors ; imperishable mansions ; an
unfading crown ; an immoveable throne ; an ever-

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 29
lasting kingdom ; an eternal weight of glory ; per
fect, uninterrupted, never-ending, perpetually in
creasing felicity, in the full fruition- of God, are
the rewards, which these promises assure to all
penitent believers. But in vain do we attempt to
describe these rewards ; for, " Eye hath not seen,
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart
of man the things, which God hath prepared for
them that love him."
Such are the circumstances, which render the
Bible interesting as a human composition ; — such
the instructions, precepts, and promises, which it
communicates as a revelation from God. And in
proportion to the importance of its contents are
the evils which would result from its absence or
loss. Destroy this volume, as the enemies of hu
man happiness have vainly endeavored to do ; and
you render us profoundly ignorant of our Creator ;
of the formation of the world which we inhabit ;
of the origin and progenitors of our race ; of our
present duty, and future destination ; and consign
us, through life, to the dominion of fancy, doubt,
and conjecture. Destroy this volume ; and you
rob us of the consolatory expectation, excited by
its predictions, that the stormy cloud which has so
long hung over a suffering world, will at length, be
scattered ; and a brighter day succeed ; — you for
bid us to hope that the hour is approaching, when
nation shall no more lift up sword against nation ;
and righteousness, peace, and holy joy, shall uni
versally prevail ; and allow us to anticipate noth-

30 THE BIBLE
ing, but a constant succession of wars, revolutions,
crimes, and miseries, terminating only with the
end of time. Destroy this volume ; and you de
prive us, at a single blow, of religion, with all the
animating consolations, hopes, and prospects which
it affords ; and leave us nothing but the liberty
of choosing, — miserable alternative ! between the
cheerless gloom of infidelity, and the monstrous
shadows of paganism. Destroy this volume ; and
you unpeople heaven ; bar forever its doors against
the wretched posterity of Adam ; restore to the
king of terrors his fatal sting ; bury hope in the
Same grave which receives our bodies ; consign all
who have died before us, to eternal sleep, or end
less misery ; and allow us to expect nothing at
death, but a similar fate. In a word, destroy this
volume ; and you take from us, at once, every
thing, which prevents existence from becoming, of
all curses, the greatest. You blot out the sun ;
dry up the ocean ; and take away the atmosphere
of the moral world ; and degrade man to a situ
ation, from which he may look up with envy to
" the brutes that perish." Who then would not
earnestly wish to believe the scriptures, even
though they came to him, unattended with suffi
cient evidence of their divine origin ? Who can
be so much his own enemy, as to refuse to believe
them, when they come attended with evidence,
more than sufficient, to satisfy all, but the wilfully
incredulous ? Who, in this view of them, imper
fect as it is, is prepared to say, that they are not

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 31
of all books the most important ; that they ought
not to be prized and studied as such, by all who
possess them ; and put, without delay, into the
hands of all who do not ? Were this inestimable
treasure in the exclusive possession of any indi
vidual, would you not consider him as the most
malevolent of beings, if he neglected to communi
cate it, as soon as possible, to his fellow-creatures ?
And if he were a stranger to the use of the press,
would not the common feelings of humanity re
quire him to spend whole nights, as did a weal
thy merchant in the East, in transcribing it for
their use ? What possible excuse, then, can we
assign, for neglecting to distribute this treasure,
when the press affords us the means of doing it,
at so trifling an expense ? Will it be said, that
few, or none of our fellow-citizens are destitute ?
It is a fact, within ihe knowledge of this society,
that the deficiency of Bibles in this District, to say
nothing of other places, is far greater, than they
are able to supply. Will it be said, that none are
destitute of the sacred volume, but in consequence
of their own fault ; and that they are therefore
unworthy to receive such a gift ? Admitting this
to be the case, which in many instances, however,
it is not, is this an excuse for neglecting them,
which it becomes us to assign ? Had God adopt
ed such a rule in the distribution of his favors ; —
had he bestowed the Bible on none but the deserv
ing ; who among ourselves should ever have been
favored with it ? Will it be said, that the other

32 THE BIBLE
wants of the poor are so numerous and pressing.
that nothing can be spared for the supply of this ?
But what other want can be so pressing, so de
serving of immediate attention, as that of the Bi
ble ? In what other way can we, at an equal ex
pense, do so much to alleviate the miseries, and
promote, I will not say the eternal, but even the
temporal happiness of the poor, as by putting into
their hands a book, which contains such a mass of
the most valuable and important information ? —
which is so eminently calculated to render them
better, and consequently happier, in all the rela
tions of life ; which teaches them, " in whatever
state they are therewith to be content ;" and to
look for the relief of their necessities to Him who
" hears the young ravens when they cry ;" and to
whom they will never look in vain, while they take
this precious volume for their guide. Were they
experimentally acquainted with the worth of this
volume, they would themselves feel the want of it
to be the first, the most pressing of wants. Send
us any famine, they would cry, but " a famine of
the word of God." Keep your wealth ; enjoy
your possessions ; give us but the Bible to smooth
the path of life, and the bed of death ; and we
will envy none their possessions, but living, and
dying, will bless you ; though we should perish
with hunger. Such is the language of the pious
poor. Such, were it not for their vices or their
ignorance, would be the language of all the poor ;
and who will deny, that their vices and ignorance

ABOVE ALL PRICE. S3
tender it still more necessary, that they should be
put in immediate possession of the Bible. In re
questing you to assist in supplying them with it,
this Society does not so much solicit you to confer
a favor, as to share in a privilege ; — the privilege
of uniting with the pious and benevolent in all
parts of the world, in the noble design of distribu
ting the scriptures ; and the still more enviable
privilege of becoming " workers together with
God," in diffusing the knowledge of Himself, and
His will. With what has been already done ; with
what is now doing for the promotion of this God
like design, you are, in some measure, acquainted.
You are not ignorant, that societies, for the gratu
itous distribution of the scriptures, have been form
ed in all parts of the world ; and that new socie
ties, for the same purpose, are constantly forming.
By the members of these various societies nearly
a million of dollars was contributed during the
past year ; more than four hundred thousand dol
lars of which, were received by the British and
Foreign Bible Society alone. To aid the efforts
of these societies, not only have kings and princes
lent their influence, and the rich opened their trea
sures ; but the widow has cast in her two mites ;
the child has presented all his little hoard ; ser
vants have given a third part of their annual wa
ges ; and more than one military corps have offered
a certain proportion of their pay. In consequence of
these astonishing and unprecedented exertions,
the sacred scriptures, or at least parts of them,
5

34 THE BIBLE
have already been printed and circulated in up
wards of forty different languages and dialects.
Shall we then be idle, while all ranks and denomi
nations are thus actively engaged in this glorious
work ? While Britons, Russians, Swedes, Poland-
ers, Germans, Swiss, Italians, Greeks, Africans,
and Indians, are employed in diffusing the scrip
tures, shall Americans alone do nothing ? Or
shall we be last and least among Americans in
favoring and promoting such a design ? It is with
no small reluctance we are obliged to confess, that
in this rank, a very considerable part of this Dis
trict may justly be placed. All that has been done
here, has been done by, comparatively, a few. We
speak with confidence, when we assert, that among
all the societies which have been formed for the
distribution of the scriptures, in our own, or in
other countries, not one can be found which has
received assistance so disproportionate to what
might have been reasonably expected, as this. —
And to what is the existence of this disgraceful
fact to be ascribed ? Are the inhabitants of this
District less religious, — do they value the Bible
less, — or their property more than others ? This,
we presume, you will not feel disposed to allow.
Shall we not, then, do all in our power, to wipe off
so foul a stain from this section of our country ?
Shall we give our destitute countrymen regret,
that they were not born in any other part of the
world, where they would have been supplied with
the scriptures, rather than in this Christian land ?

ABOVE ALL PRICE. 35
Shall the eye of Omniscience, while it surveys the
globe, find here the only spot, where the water of
life is not permitted to flow freely ; — where the cry
of the poor for Bibles is disregarded ; and thus be
provoked to take from us a gift, of which we seem
not to know the worth ? There is reason to be
lieve that, unless we speedily and diligently exert
ourselves, this will be the case. He, "who cannot
lie," has declared, that " the knowledge of the
Lord shall fill the earth as the waters cover the
seas." The period in which this prediction will
be fully accomplished, is now evidently and rapidly
approaching. The greatest of those obstacles,
which once opposed its fulfilment, are already re
moved or overcome ; and it is more than probable,
that before very many years have elapsed, there
will be scarcely a human habitation on earth, un
less indeed it be among ourselves, in which the
Bible will not be found. Let us, then, engage as
one man, in hastening the arrival of this glorious
and long expected day. Let us give wings to the
Bible. Let us guide this life-giving stream into
every abode and cottage in our wilderness. And
permit us to express a hope, that your assistance
in promoting this design, will not be confined to
the present occasion ; but that you will aid our ex
ertions, by becoming active members of this soci
ety. Above all, while engaged in conveying the
Bible to others, let us beware of neglecting it our
selves. Let us bind it to our hearts as our most
valuable treasure ; study it with that reverence and

36 THE BIBLE Ac,
attention which its character demands, and submit
implicitly to its decisions, as to " the lively oracles
of God." Thus we shall be impressed with a
conviction, far more strong and abiding than any
external evidence can produce, That all scripture
is given by inspiration qf God, and is profitable for
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and instruction
in righteousness ; that the man qf God may be per
fect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works. —
Thus shall we be enabled by our own experience,
to feel and adopt the language of the Psalmist,
" The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul ;
the testimony qf the Lord is sure, making wise the
simple. The statutes qf the Lord are right, rejoicing
the heart ; the commandment qf the Lord is pure,
enlightening the eyes. More to be desired are they
than gold ; yea than much fine gold ; sweeter also
than honey, or the honey comb. Moreover by them is
thy servant warned, and in keeping qf them there is
great reward."

SERMOIV II.
GOD'S WAYS ABOVE MEN'S.
ISAIAH LV. 8, 9.
FOR MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT YOUR THOUGHTS, NEITHER ARE YOUR WAYS
MY WAYS, SAITH THE LORD. FOR AS THE HEAVENS ARE HIGHER THAN
THE EARTH, SO ARE MY WAYS HIGHER THAN YOUR WAYS, AND MY
THOUGHTS THAN YOUR THOUGHTS.
In the preceding verses, God commands and
invites sinners to repent and embrace his offers of
mercy. " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye
to the waters, and he that hath no money ; come
ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk,
without money and without price. Let the wick
ed 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." He was, however,
aware, that the natural unbelief, the guilty fears
and narrow views of sinners, would lead them to
distrust these promises, and to turn the unspeaka
ble good which they offer into an argument against
their truth. He, therefore, proceeds, in our text,
to caution them against judging of him by them
selves, and measuring his thoughts and ways by
their own dark, confused and limited conceptions.
" My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are
your ways my ways. For as the heavens are

38 GOD'S WAYS
higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than
your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts."
To illustrate the truth of this declaration, and to
notice some particular instances in which it is
strikingly manifest, is my present design.
1. God's ways and thoughts must be far above
ours, because in situation and office he is exalted
far above us. God is in heaven, and we are upon
earth. We occupy the footstool, and he the
throne. As the Creator and Preserver, he is, of
course, the rightful Governor of the universe. All
worlds, creatures and events are subject to his
control, and he is under a blessed necessity of
overruling and conducting all things in such a
manner, as to promote, in the highest possible de
gree, his own glory and the universal good. In
forming and executing his purposes, therefore, he
must take into view not only present, but past and
future circumstances and events ; not the concerns
of a single individual only, but those of the whole
race of being* in heaven, earth, and all the worlds
around us. Now consider, a moment, the extent
and duration of Jehovah's kingdom. Think of
the innumerable armies of heaven ; the, perhaps,
scarcely less numerous hosts of hell ; the multi
tudes of the human race, who have existed, who-
now exist, and will hereafter exist on earth before
the end of time. Then raise your eyes to the nu
merous suns and worlds around us. Borrow the
telescope ofthe astronomer, and, penetrating far in
to the unfathomable recesses ofthe etherial regions,

ABOVE MEN'S. 39
see new suns, new worlds still rising into view.
Consider that all we can discover is, perhaps, but
a speck, a single sand on the shore, in comparison
with what remains undiscovered ; that all these in
numerable worlds are probably inhabited by im
mortal beings, and that God's plan of government
for this boundless empire must embrace eternity ;
— consider these things, and then say, whether
God's purposes, thoughts, and ways, must not ne
cessarily be high above ours, as the heavens are
above the earth, or as his sphere of action exceeds
ours. Must not the thoughts and ways of a pow
erful earthly monarch be far above those of one of
his subjects, who is employed in manufacturing a
pin, or cultivating a few acres of ground ? Can
such a subject be competent to judge of his sov
ereign's designs, or even to comprehend them ?
How far then must the thoughts and ways of the
eternal Monarch of heaven, the King of kings,
and Lord of lords, exceed ours ; and how little
able are we to judge of them, farther than the rev
elation, which he has been pleased to give, ena
bles us.
2. God's thoughts and ways must be infinitely
above ours, because his nature and perfections
raise him infinitely above us. He is a self-existent,
independent, all-sufficient, infinite, eternal, pure,
and perfect intelligence. We are dependent,
finite, imperfect, frail, dying creatures, fettered by
gross, heavy bodies, and exposed to the influence
of innumerable infirmities, temptations and preju-

40 GOD'S WAYS
dices, which bias and blind our reason. But,
more particularly, God is infinitely superior to us
in wisdom. He is the all-wise God. Even the
foolishness of God, says the apostle, is wiser than
men ; and the angels, who are far above us in wis
dom, are, in comparison with him, chargeable with
folly. He must, therefore, be able to devise a
thousand plans and expedients, and to bring good
out of evil in numberless ways, of whichwe never
could have conceived, and of which we are by no
means competent to judge, even after they are re
vealed to us. If the ways and thoughts of a wise
man are above those of a fool, how much more
must the ways and thoughts of the all-wise God
exceed ours.
Again. God is infinitely superior to us in knowl
edge. We are of yesterday and know nothing ;
our foundation is in the dust. We have little real
knowledge of present objects and events ; and of
the future we are entirely ignorant, except so far
as God has fceen pleased to reveal it. But God
perfectly knows all things. He has a perfect
knowledge of the properties and qualities of all
creatures ; for he made them what they are, and
upholds them. He knows every thing that is now
taking place in the universe ; for he is every where
present. He knows every thing that ever has oc
curred, or that ever will occur ; for we are told
that he sees the end from the beginning ; that he
calls things that are not as though they were ; and
that known unto God are all his works from the

ABOVE MEN'S. 41
beginning. At a single glance he looks through
eternity and immensity, and takes into view, at
once, the whole circle of existence. That this
perfect knowledge must cause his thoughts and
ways to be infinitely above ours, it is needless to
remark. Are not the thoughts and ways of man
above those of the brute ? Are not the thoughts
and ways of the parent above the comprehension
of his new born infant ? Do not our own change,
as we increase in wisdom and knowledge? How
far, then, must the thoughts and ways of the om
niscient, infallible God exceed those of ignorant,
short sighted and fallible men.
Farther. God is infinitely above us in power.
We are weak and frail to a proverb ; and our
plans, ways, enterprizes, must conform to the
weakness of our powers. But God is all-power
ful ; with him nothing is impossible. He can do
numberless things, of which we can form no con
ception ; and he can do what he does in an incon
ceivable variety of ways. This consideration alone,
were there nothing else, would prove that his
thoughts and ways are far above ours.
Again. God is eternal and unchangeable, while
we are but of yesterday, and die, perhaps, to-mor
row, and are continually changing, as our situation
and circumstances change. Surely the thoughts
and ways of such creatures cannot be suitable or
proper for a being, who had no beginning, who
cannot change, but is, yesterday, to-day, and for
ever, the same. 6

42 GOD'S WAYS
Once more. God is perfectly benevolent and
holy ; but we are entirely selfish and sinful. We
love sin, that abominable thing which his soul
hates. We care for nothing but our own private
interest ; while his concern is for the interests of
the universe. Hence his thoughts, his affections,
his maxims and pursuits, must be entirely different
from ours. Do not the thoughts and ways of an
gels differ from those of devils ? Do not even the
thoughts and ways of good men differ widely from
those of the wicked ? How infinitely then must
a perfectly holy God differ from us, polluted worms,
who are dead in trespasses and sins ! If man, at
his best estate, and even angels themselves are in
competent to comprehend God's thoughts and
ways, because he is infinitely superior to them in
wisdom, and knowledge, and power ; how unable
must we be, since sin has blinded our understand
ings, hardened our hearts, defiled the whole man,
debased all our faculties, and exposed us to in
numerable temptations, prejudices and mistakes,
which lead us to hate and shun the pure light of di
vine truth ; to delude and deceive ourselves, and to
form erroneous opinions respecting almost every
thing around us ; to call evil good, and good evil ;
to put sweet for bitter, and bitter for sweet ; shad
ows for realities, and realities for shadows ; dark
ness for light, and light for darkness. The pleas
ures, ways and pursuits of an oyster, enclosed in
its shell, at the bottom of the sea, do not by any
means differ so widely from those of the eagle,

ABOVE MEN'S. 43
that soars to the clouds and basks in the beams of
the sun, as do the thoughts and ways of sinners
from those of the infinitely benevolent and holy
Monarch of the universe.
Having thus shown that the thoughts and ways
of God must far surpass ours, I proceed, as was
proposed, II. To exhibit, particularly, some instances, in
which this difference most strikingly appears.
1. In permitting the introduction and continued
existence of natural and moral evil, God's ways
and thoughts are very different from ours. Why
he should permit angels Or men to fall, we cannot
tell. That he did permit them to fall, is certain ;
because, had he thought proper, he could, doubt
less, have prevented their apostacy. It is also cer
tain that he still permits the existence of natural
and moral evil ; because, if he chose, all things
considered, to banish it from the universe, he could
easily do it. But if we had been consulted, we
should have decided that it was best that sin and
its consequences should never enter the world ; or,
if they must enter, that they should be immediate
ly banished. In this particular, therefore, God's
thoughts and ways are evidently not like ours.
2. In appointing Adam to be the covenant head
and representative of the human race, sO that, if
he stood, his posterity should stand, and if he fell,
his posterity should fall, God did not act as we,
probably, should have done. That he has done
this, is evident from fact ; for we find that sin and

44 GOD'S WAYS
its consequences do descend to every individual of
the species ; and we are told, that in Adam all die.
But we should have thought it best to have no
such constitution ; but to have had the condition
of every individual independent of that of every
other. This method God did adopt with angels ;
and why he thought fit to adopt a different method
with respect to us, he has not seen fit to inform us,
and we cannot tell. It is, however, evident that,
in this particular, God's thoughts and ways are
above ours. The same may be said,
3. Of the difference he has made between our
race and the fallen angels. For them no way of
salvation was provided. To them no space for re
pentance, no day of grace, no offers of mercy were
given ; but their punishment immediately followed
their offence. We, on the contrary, have space
for repentance, and are favored with the offers of
salvation, and the means of grace. Christ took
not hold qf angels, says the apostle ; but he took
hold qf the seed of Abraham. But we should have
thought no difference ought to be made ; or, if
either angels or men were to be left, that they
should be saved rather than we ; because they are
of a higher rank in the scale of being. But God
thought otherwise ; and the only reason we can
assign is, that so it seemed good in his sight.
4. In devising a way of salvation, and in provi
ding a Saviour, God's thoughts and ways are very
different from ours, and far, very far, above them.
We should have thought, that, if God intended to

ABOVE MEN'S. 45
save sinners, he would bring them to repentance
and save them, at once ; or, at least, after suffering
them to endure, for a season, the bitter consequen
ces of their own folly and disobedience. We nev
er should have thought of providing for them a Re
deemer ; still less should we have thought of pro
posing, that God's only Son, the Creator and Pre
server of all things, should undertake this office ;
and, least of all, should we have expected, that he
would, for this purpose, think it necessary to be
come man. If we had been informed that this
was necessary, and it had been left to us to fix the
time and manner of his appearing, we should have
concluded that he ought to come soon after the
fall; to be born of illustrious parents; to make his
appearance on earth in all the splendor, pomp, and
glory imaginable ; to overcome all opposition by a
display of irresistible power ; and to ride through
the world in triumph, conquering and to conquer.
Such were the expectations of the Jews ; and such,
most probably, would have been ours. But never
should we have thought of his being born of a vir
gin in abject circumstances ; born in a stable, cra
dled in a manger, living for many years as a hum
ble artificer ; wandering, despised and rejected of
men, without a place to lay his head, and, finally,
arraigned, tried, condemned and crucified as a vile
malefactor, that he might thus expiate our sins, and
by his death, give life to the world. Had we been
forewarned of these things, we should have consid
ered them as too foolish, incredible and absurd to

46 GOD'S WAYS
obtain the smallest credit; and, instead of think
ing them cunningly devised, should have thought
them very clumsily contrived, fables, unworthy of
the least notice or regard. Arid thus in fact they
have appeared, and do still appear, to the wise men
of this world ; for, says the apostle, the cross of
Christ is foolishness to them that perish. When
the self-righteous Jews and vain-glorious Gentiles
were told that one, who had been crucified as a
malefactor, was the Son of God, the Creator of the
world, the only Saviour of men, that his blood
cleanses from all sin, and that without an interest
in his merits they must perish forever, — they could
find no language sufficiently strong to express their
contempt and indignation ; and the aid of the stake,
the rack, and the cross, was called in to express
what language could not. Yet this was the way
which God thought proper to choose, and all things,
which appear in the view of men so ridiculous, ir
rational and absurd, are, in his view, infinitely prop
er, wise and aniiable; and display far more wis
dom than all the works of creation, wonderful as
they are. Surely, then, as the heavens are higher
than the earth, so are his ways and thoughts high
er than ours.
5. God's thoughts and ways differ widely from
Ours in his choice of means and instruments for
propagating the religion of Christ. We should
have thought that a religion, whose author had
been crucified as a malefactor ; a religion, which,
instead of favoring and flattering the ruling pas-

ABOVE MEN'S. 47
sions, prejudices and propensities of men, directly
opposed them all, and which was, therefore, ex
ceedingly hateful to them, — would have needed the
assistance of angels, or, at least, of the most pow
erful monarchs, the most enlightened sages, the
most splendid natural and acquired abilities, to pro
cure it success. But instead of such instruments,
which we should have chosen, God saw fit to em
ploy a handful of ignorant fishermen to effect this
purpose, and even forbade them to use any human
artifices to procure them success ; but charged
them to rely entirely on the effect of a faithful, sim
ple, unadorned statement of the great truths of
Christianity. Hence the language of the apostle,
" God hath chosen the foolish things of the world
to confound the wise ; and the weak things of the
world to confound the mighty ; and base things of
the world, and things that are despised hath God
chosen; yea, and things that are not to bring to
nought things which are, that no flesh should glo
ry in his presence. For when, in the wisdom of
God, the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleas
ed God by the foolishness of preaching to save
them that believe."
6. A wide difference between God's thoughts
and ways, and our own, appears, when we consid
er the manner in which he dispenses the benefits
which Christ has purchased, and the character and
situation of those whom he chooses to make wise
unto salvation. We should expect that, if such a
Saviour were provided, all would be saved; and

48 GOD'S WAYS
that, if, for any reasons, this were impossible, the
most noble, wise, rich and learned, or, at least, the
most moral and amiable would always be called.
But this, we see, is not the case. It is evident from
scripture, if any thing can be, that all will not be
saved, and it is also evident from observation, so
far as we can see ; -for we find that multitudes ap
pear to live and die without any spiritual knowl
edge of the Saviour, or preparation for heaven.
We also find, both from scripture and observation,
that it is not always the most wealthy, wise, or learn
ed, nor even the most moral and amiable, who are
called to embrace the gospel. Christ told the mor
al, but self-righteous pharisees, that the publicans
and harlots would go into the kingdom of God be
fore them. Hath not God, says St. James, chosen
the poor of this world to be rich in faith, and heirs
of the kingdom ? Ministers and private christians
very often find reason to acknowledge, that God's
thoughts and ways are not like theirs ; for he rare
ly converts such, as they think the most probable
subjects of conversion ; and while they are watch
ing such persons, and daily hoping and expecting
to see them embrace the truth, others, of whom,
perhaps, they never thought, start up and seize the
prize. 7. God's thoughts respecting the way in which
men become partakers of the salvation of the Gos
pel, differ widely from ours. We all naturally sup
pose, that men are to be saved by their good works ;
by obeying the law ; by subduing their sins ; by

ABOVE MEN*S. 49
alms and prayers. But the gospel teaches us,
that men are to be saved, not by working, but
by believing ; that we are saved by grace, through
faith; and that to him that worketh not, but
believeth on him who justifieth the ungodly, his
faith is counted to him for righteousness. This
truth men neither love nor understand, and even
after they are awakened and convinced of sin,
it is one of the most difficult things imaginable
to convince them that their pretended good works
are no better than sins ; and that if they ever ob
tain salvation, it must be by simply believing in the
Son of God. In scarcely any thing do God's
thoughts and ways differ so widely from ours, as in
this great doctrine of salvation through grace — of
justification by faith in the righteousness of Christ.
Lastly. God's thoughts and ways are not as
ours respecting the best methods of dealing with
his people, and carrying on the work of grace in
their souls after it is begun. When God delivered
his people from Egyptian bondage, if he had led
them by the nearest and most direct way to Ca
naan, they might have reached it in a very few
days ; and had they been consulted, they would
probably have thought the nearest way the best.
But God thought otherwise. So when God converts
his people from sin to holiness, he could, if he
pleased, render them perfectly holy at once ; and
they are often ready to imagine, that this would be
much the better way, both for his glory and their
own good. But, instead of adopting this method.

50 GOD'S WAYS
he grants them, at first, but small degrees of grace,
and increases it in a very slow and gradual manner.
He leads them round, for many years, through a
wilderness beset with temptations, trials and suffer
ings, with a view to humble them, prove them, and
show them all that is in their hearts. By the dis
coveries, which they make, of their own weakness,
ignorance and propensity to sin, their pride is hum
bled ; their self-confidence destroyed ; their pa
tience, meekness and candor are increased ; the
Saviour, and his method of salvation rendered more
precious, and all ground for boasting forever ex
cluded. All these happy effects, however, are produced
in a way which they would never have thought of;
and it is a long time before they can be made to
understand God's method of proceeding, so that
.they are often ready to say with Jacob, "All these
things are against me !" when, in fact, every thing
is working together for their good. Even when
God answers their prayers, he very often does it in
ways and by means, which they did not expect ;
and as often as they attempt to mark out a path for
him in their own minds, so often they find them
selves disappointed, and are constrained to confess,
that his ways are not like theirs. Often too, when
they contemplate their own unworthiness, their stu
pidity, their obstinacy, their inconsistencies, their
propensity to backslide, to grieve their Saviour and
requite him evil for good, notwithstanding the in
numerable pardons and mercies they have receiv-

ABOVE MEN'S. 51
ed, — are they constrained to use the same lan
guage, and to cry, Lord, why am I saved ? why are
such favors heaped on a wretch so unworthy ?
Surely, this is not the manner of men — to adopt
rebels and traitors, as children, and heap such hon
ors and blessings upon them. What manner of
love is this, that we should be called the sons of
God ! Who is a God like unto thee, that forgivest
iniquity, transgression and sin, and overcomest evil
with good ? If thy ways were riot high above ours,
as the heavens are higher than the earth, we must
have perished forever !
INFERENCES.
1. If God's ways and thoughts differ thus wide
ly from ours, then it is no reasonable objection a-
gainst the truth of any doctrine, or the propriety
of any dispensation, that it is above our compre
hension, and appears strange and mysterious to us.
On the contrary, we should have reason to doubt
the truth of the scriptures, and to suspect that they
are not the word of God, if they did not contain
many things, which appear mysterious, and which
we cannot fully comprehend. In this case they
would want one great proof of having proceeded
from him, whose thoughts and ways must be infi
nitely above burs. Yet, my friends, all the objec
tions which men make against the truth of revela
tion, or against any of its doctrines, are founded
on the supposition, that God's ways and thoughts
must be precisely like ours ; and that if any thing

52 GOD»S WAYS
appears unreasonable or mysterious to us, it cer
tainly is so, and, therefore, cannot proceed from
God. 2. If God's thoughts and ways are thus high a-
bove ours, it must be abominable pride, impiety,
folly and presumption in us to censure them even
in thought Yet how often men do this ! How of
ten do they, at least in their hearts, find fault with
God's word, murmur at his dispensations, repine
under afflictions, feel dissatisfied with his manner
of governing the world, quarrel with his sovereign
ty in the bestowing of favors, and thus in effect say,
that God is either unwise, unkind, or unjust, and
that they could conduct things in a better manner !
My friends, if this is not horridly impious and pre
sumptuous, if it does not discover the most abomi
nable pride, what does? For an illiterate peasant
to censure the conduct of his prince, with the rea
sons of which he is utterly unacquainted ; for a
child of a week old to condemn the proceedings of
his parent, would be nothing to this. We are told,
that, if any man judgeth a matter before he hear-
eth it, it is folly and shame unto him. What folly
and shame is it then to us to attempt to judge of
God's conduct, when we know only so small a part
of his ways, and know even this part but very im
perfectly. An ancient writer tells us of a man,
who, having a house for sale, carried a brick to
market to exhibit as a specimen. You may, per
haps, smile at his folly in supposing that any pur
chaser would or could judge of a whole house,

ABOVE MEN'S. 53
which he never saw, by so small a part of it. But
are not we guilty of much greater folly in attempt
ing to form an opinion of God's conduct from that
little part of it, which we are able to discover ? In
order to form a correct opinion of it, we ought to
have a correct view of the whole; we ought to
see the whole extent and duration of God's king
dom ; to be equal to him in wisdom, knowledge,
power, and goodness ; in one word, we ought to be
God ourselves ; for none but God is capable of
judging accurately ofthe conduct of God. Hence,
whenever we attempt to judge of it, we do, in ef
fect, set ourselves up as Gods, knowing good and
evil. Well, therefore, may God reply to our vain,
proud, and impious objections, ' Who is this, that
darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up now thy loins like a man, and I will de
mand of thee, and answer thou me. Where wast
thou, when I laid the foundations of the earth?
declare, if thou hast understanding. Hast thou an
arm like God? or canst thou thunder with a voice
like him ? Wilt thou disannul my judgment ? wilt
thou condem me, that thou may est be righteous ?'
And while God may thus with propriety address
each of us, it becomes us to reply with Job, ' Be
hold, I am vile ; what shall I answer thee ? I will
lay my hand upon my mouth. Once have I spok
en, but I will not answer; yea, twice, but I will
proceed no farther. I have uttered that I under
stood not ; things too wonderful for me, which I
knew not.'

54 GOD'S WAYS
3. From this subject we infer the reasonableness
of faith. The very essence of faith consists in a
humble, docile, childlike temper, which disposes
us to embrace, without objecting or disputing, ev
ery thing which God reveals ; and to believe that
all his words and dispensations are, even though
we cannot see how, perfectly right. Christians are
often ridiculed for exercising this implicit faith in
God, and believing what they cannot fully compre
hend. But we appeal to every one present,
whether, in so doing, they do not act reasonably.
If God's ways and thoughts are thus high above
ours, ought we not implicitly to believe all his dec
larations ; to believe that all he says and does is
perfectly right ? Is it not reasonable for children
thus to believe their parents ? for a sick man to
trust in a skilful physician ? for a passenger unac
quainted with navigation, to trust to the master of
the vessel ? for a blind man to follow his guide ?
If so, then it is certainly much more reasonable for
such ignorant, shortsighted, fallible creatures, as
we are, to submit and trust implicitly to an infinite
ly wise, good, and infallible Being ; and when any
of his words or works appear wrong, to ascribe it
to our own ignorance, blindness, or prejudice, rath
er than to suppose that there is any thing wrong
in him. Is it not more likely that we should be
wrong or mistaken, than that God should be ? If
so, we ought to praise him, when his conduct ap
pears wise and right, and to impute it to ourselves
when it does not, and to believe and to submit to

ABOVE MEN'S. 55
him implicitly in all things. This is not only rea
sonable, but absolutely necessary to our happiness ;
for if God's thoughts and ways differ thus widely
from ours, we must either believe that he is right
and we wrong, or else feel unreconciled and dis
satisfied. But if we feel unreconciled and dissat
isfied we must be unhappy ; for we cannot help
ourselves. God will do as he pleases, whether we
are pleased or not. On the contrary, if we exer
cise faith and submission to his will, and believe
that all is right ; that even when clouds and dark
ness are round about him, justice and judgment
are the habitation of his throne, then we shall be
peaceful and happy. He will guide us by his coun
sel, and afterward receive us to glory. Then the
cloud will be scattered ; we shall see all things
clearly, and understand the meaning of those
truths, and the reason of those dispensations, which
have appeared most mysterious and perplexing;
for God's language to every sincere believer is,
What I do, thou knowest not now ; but thou shalt
know hereafter.

56 A LL THINGS
SERMOXHI.
ALL THINGS CREATED FOR CHRIST.
COX.OSSIANS I. 16.
ALL THINGS WERE CREATED BY HIM AND FOR HIM.
By whom were all these worlds and beings made ?
is, probably, the first question, which a view of the
created universe would excite in a seriously inquis
itive mind. For what purpose and with what view
were they created? would no less probably be the
second. There are two inspired passages, one in
the Old Testament and the other in the New,
which contain a direct answer to both these ques
tions. In the Old Testament we are told, that Je
hovah hath made all things for himself, yea, even
the wicked for the day of evil : and in the New,
that all things were created by Christ and for Christ.
At first view these passages appear to differ, not
only in language, but in sentiment. The former
asserts that Jehovah made all things. The latter
declares that all things were created by Christ.
The former assures us that Jehovah made all things
for himself; the latter that all things were created
for Christ. To those, however, who believe that
the Jehovah of the Old Testament is the Jesus of
the New, these apparently different assertions will
appear perfectly consistent. They will recollect
and readily assent to the declaration of our Lord,
He that hath seen me hath seen the Father ; I and

TOR CHRIST. 57
my Father are one ; and will feel that the expres
sion, Jehovah hath made all things for himself, is
synonymous with the declaration in our text, All
things were created by Christ and for him.
In discoursing on this passage we shall endeavor
to illustrate, particularly, the general assertion, that
all things were created for Christ. That none may
suspect us of asserting more than our text will
warrant, it may be proper to quote, the remaining
part of the verse which contains it. " By him,"
says the apostle speaking of Christ, " were all
things created, that are in heaven, and that are in
earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones, or
dominions, or principalities, or powers : all things
were created by him, and for him." From this
passage it appears that there are invisible, as well
as visible creatures; things in heaven, as well as
things on earth. But whether visible or invisible,
whether in heaven or on earth, they were all crea
ted for Christ ; all created to promote his glory and
subserve his purposes. This I shall now attempt
to illustrate in several particulars.
I. Heaven was created for Christ. That there
is a place called heaven, where the presence of
God is specially manifested, and which is, in a pe
culiar sense, the habitation of his holiness and glo
ry, is abundantly taught by the inspired writers.
Some, it is true, have supposed that heaven is on
ly a state of happiness, and not a place ; but the
supposition may be easily shown to be groundless ;
for, though God is every where, and though his
8

58 ALL THINGS
presence would render any place a heaven to holy
beings ; yet the glorified body of Christ cannot be
every where. A body, however purified and refin
ed, must be in some place ; and the place, where
now exists the glorified body of our Redeemer, is
heaven. Agreeably, St. Paul informs us, that Christ
has entered into heaven itself ; that he is seated at
the right hand of God in the heavenly places ; and
he elsewhere speaks of desiring to depart and be
with Christ. Our Saviour himself, in his last prayer,
says, Father, I will that those whom thou hast giv
en me be with me, where I am, that they may be
hold my glory. In addition to these proofs we may
observe, that the bodies of Enoch and Elijah must
have been in some place, since their removal from
this world, and that the glorified bodies of the saints,
which are to be raised at the last day, must be in
some place after their resurrection. Heaven is,
therefore, not only a state, but a place, as really a
place as this world. And the same arguments
which prove that there is such a place as heaven,
prove that heaven was created on purpose for Christ.
God, considered as a pure spirit, cannot be said to
be in one place, any more than in another. " D©
not I fill heaven and earth ? saith the Lord." Nay,
more, the Psalmist says, " If I make my bed in
hell, thou art there." God, therefore, considered
as a spirit, had no occasion for a material heaven.
Nor was there any need of such a place for the an
gels ; for they also are spirits, and, wherever they
are, they behold the face of God, so that to them

FOR CHRIST. 59
every place is heaven. But when God became in
carnate in the person of Christ ; when he became
God manifest in the flesh, then a material heaven
became necessary for the place of his residence ;
a place, to which his redeemed people might be
brought, and where they might dwell with him and
behold his glory. Agreeably, Christ speaks of
heaven as a kingdom prepared for them from the
foundation of the world ; and elsewhere he says to
his disciples, I go to prepare a place for you ; and
if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come
again, and receive you to myself, that where I am
there ye may be also. It appears, then, that if God
had not taken our nature into union with himself
in the person of Christ ; and if Christ had not re
deemed the bodies of his people from the grave by
his own death, there would have been no occasion
for a material heaven ; and, of course, none would
have been created. It is not then for God, simply
considered, but for God manifest in the flesh, or,
in other words, for Jesus Christ, that heaven was
originally formed. It was designed to be the roy
al city, the court, the palace, in which the King of
Zion should dwell and reign with his redeemed peo
ple forever and ever.
II. The angels were all created for Christ.
When forming the great scheme of redemption,
God was pleased to determine that he would em
ploy the agency of created, but highly exalted spir
its in carrying it on. With this view the angels
were created. They are employed in worshipping

60 ALI, THINGS
Christ. When he brought the first begotten into
the world he saith, let all the angels of God wor
ship him. They are also employed by Christ in
executing his purposes of love to his people. " Are
they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minis
ter unto them who shall be heirs of salvation ?" It
would, perhaps be impossible, to point out a single
work ever performed by them, which was not in
some way connected with the work of redemption
by Christ. Hence they are called his angels. Je
sus Christ, says St. John, sent his angel. The
Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven with his
mighty angels. Among these exalted spirits thus
created to be the worshippers and servants of Christ,
some were found who fell from their first estate. Of
what particular sin they were guilty, we are not in
formed ; but in some way or other, they refused to
perform the duties required of them, and were in
consequence cast down from heaven to hell. But
though from angels they are transformed to devils,
they are still subject to Christ ; he holds them in a
chain which they cannot break, and overrules for
the advancement of his kingdom all their endeav
ors to destroy it. For instance, were it not for
their temptations, Judas had probably never be
trayed his master, nor the Jews crucified him.
How much this event, which they designed should
overthrow his kingdom, tended to advance it, or,
rather, how absolutely necessary it was to its ad
vancement, you need not be told. ¦
III. Hell was created for Christ. That hell is a

FOR CHRIST. 61
place, as well as a state, is evident from the fact,
that the bodies of the wicked, as well as their souls,
are doomed to inhabit it. It will be apparent, in
what respects this place was created for Christ, if
we consider, that, when he was appointed in the
counsels of eternity to reign over his mediatorial
kingdom, and to be the Judge of the world, it was
foreseen that he would have rebellious, as well as
loyal, subjects ; and that for the restraint and pun
ishment of the rebellious a prison would be neces
sary. Hell was, therefore, created for a prison, in
which the enemies of Christ and of the peace and
happiness of the universe should be confined.
Hence its fires are said to be prepared for the wick
ed. In a word, it was designed, that, in Christ and
in the scheme of redemption by him, a full exhibi
tion should be made of all the glorious perfections
of the divine character. And as heaven was crea
ted to serve as a theatre for the display of the glo
ries of divine mercy, love and grace, so hell was
created for the display of divine justice and wrath.
IV. This world was created for Christ. It was
created, in the first place, for the display of his
natural perfections ; for the display of creative
wisdom and power to angelic minds. According
ly, we are told, that, when he laid the foundation
of the earth, these sons of God sung his praises
together and shouted for joy. It was created, in
the second place, to serve as a stage on which he
might display to all intelligent creatures his moral
perfections, and especially on which he might

62 ALL THINGS
display the glories of an incarnate God, and act the
wonders of the great scheme of redemption. It
was also created to be a province of his dominions,
the place where his mediatorial kingdom should be
set up, and where his chosen people should be pre
pared by his grace for admission into his kingdom
above. When it shall have served for all these pur
poses, when Christ shall have done with it, the end
of its creation will be accomplished, and then the
earth will of course be destroyed. Then the visi
ble heavens, being on fire, will be dissolved, and
the elements shall melt with fervent heat, and
earth with the works thereof shall be burnt up, and
its destruction, no less than its creation, will dis
play the perfection of its Creator.
V- The human race, and all the inferior inhabi
tants of the world, were created for Christ. They
were created, in the first place, to shew his ability
to form different kinds and orders of beings. By
forming the inferior animals he displayed his pow
er to create material beings, while his manifold
wisdom appeared in the various qualities bestowed
on them, and in their fitness for the various uses
and elements for which they were designed. In
the creation of man he farther showed his power
to create beings who were both material and spir
itual. The union of a material body with a spir
itual, immortal soul, is a work, in some respects,
more wonderful than any of his previous works of
creation, and displays in a new and striking man
ner, that power, by which he was enabled to sub-

FOR CHRIST. 63
due all things to himself. To form such a being
as man of such materials as the dust of the earth,
and to endue him with a living soul, which should
bear the image and likeness of God, must have
appeared to angels impossible ; and when they
saw such a work accomplished, it must have given
them new and enlarged views of the unlimited
power and wisdom of its Author.
In the second place, the inhabitants of this world
were created to be the subjects of Christ. It was
intended that he should have a kingdom embrac
ing all conceivable kinds or orders of created be
ings, from the highest archangel to the meanest
insect, that he might have an opportunity of dis
playing his perfections in governing such a king
dom, in dispensing happiness suited to the capaci
ties of the individuals of every kind, in adapting
them all to their various uses and relations, and
in causing all the parts of this complicated ma
chine to work together for the accomplishment of
his purposes, and in making them all the objects
ef his providential care.
In the third place, the human race was created,
that Christ might display his infinite condescension
in assuming their nature. In order to display this
condescension in the most clear and striking man
ner, it was necessary that he should assume the
nature of the lowest class of rational beings, — a
nature subject to many evils and infirmities, — a
nature, in which he might become visible, and act
and speak in a visible manner. Had he taken the

64 ALL THINGS
nature of angels into union with his own, it would
have been a less wonderful act of condescension,
nor could the act have been made equally appar
ent ; for angels are spiritual beings, and the divine
nature of Christ is spiritual, and the union of two
beings purely spiritual could not be made to ap
pear so evidently, as the union of a spiritual being
with our nature which is partly material. We can
conceive of God manifest in the flesh much more
clearly, than of God manifest in an angel. We
may farther observe, that a part of the designed
display of Christ's condescension consisted in his
becoming subject to hunger, thirst, weariness and
pain, and in his dying, in the nature which he as
sumed. He was to appear in the likeness of frail,
sinful flesh. But angels are subject to none of
these infirmities. They can neither hunger, nor
thirst, nor be weary, nor die. Christ could not,
therefore, appear in the nature of a sinful angel as
he could in the likeness of sinful flesh. Hence, in
order to the full display of his condescension, it
was necessary that rational beings should be crea
ted inferior to angels, or, in other words, such be
ings as those which compose the human race.
In the fourth place, the human race was created
that Christ might display all his perfections in their
redemption. In this work is made the brightest
and most wonderful display of those perfections
which men or angels have ever seen. The glory
of God appears most resplendent and full orbed
in the face of Jesus Christ. Power, wisdom, good-

FOR CHRIST. 65
ness, justice, truth, love, mercy, grace and faithful
ness, here shine with united lustre in full brill
iancy, nor can we determine which appears most
glorious or lovely. In God's other works, some
drops of that overflowing fountain, some rays from
that infinite sun, are seen ; but in the work of re
demption, in the glorious gospel of the blessed
God, the whole Deity, the whole fulness of the
Godhead, flows out in one boundless tide ; a tide,
which will forever fill to the brim every holy mind,
and in which all holy beings will bathe with raptur
ous delight through eternity. Accordingly, we are
told, that by the church is made known to princi
palities in heavenly places, the manifold wisdom of
God ; that in the work of redemption he made
known the riches of his grace ; that at the last day
Christ shall be glorified in his saints, and admired
in all them that believe. Even the wicked, who
refuse to submit to Christ, shall be made unwil
lingly to honor him ; that the Lord hath made all
things for himself, yea, even the wicked for the day
of evil. He now causes their wrath to praise him,
and restrains the remainder. At the judgment day,
they will all be compelled to bow to Jesus, and
confess that he is Lord ; and he will show his wrath
and make his power known in their everlasting
destruction. REFLECTIONS.
1. What exalted ideas is this subject suited to
give us of the dignity and glory of Christ. The
9

66 ALL THINGS
assertion, that all things were created by him, ' is
sufficient to prove his divinity ; for he, who built all
things, must be God But when, in addition to this,
we are assured that all things were created for
hirli, we have a proof of his divinity, which is, if
possible, still more convincing ; for, supposing for
a moment, that God could and would employ a
creature to perform the work of creation, can we
suppose that he would permit that creature to cre
ate all things for himself, for his own pleasure or
glory ? Surely not. God has said, I am Jehovah,
that is my name, and my glory I will not give to an
other. But if Christ be not God, all the divine glo
ry is given to another. The glory of creating all
things, of upholding all things, of governing all
things, of redeeming and judging the world, is all
given to Christ. Nay more, all things were crea
ted on purpose that the glory resulting from all
might be given to Christ. If then Christ be not Je
hovah, Jehovah's glory is all given to another, and
nothing remains to himself. But view Christ as
God manifest in the flesh, and the difficulty vanishes.
Then in honoring the Son, we honor the Father.
Then we shall understand why all the inhabitants
of heaven are represented as ascribing joint glories
to Him that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb.
By Him that sitteth on the throne, is meant the di
vine, and by the Lamb slain, the human nature of
Christ. Both are inseparably united, and Christ's
human nature is the temple in which Jehovah will

FOR CHRIST. 67
dwell, and in which he will be worshipped by saints
and angels through eternity.
2. From this subject we may learn, that, if we
would view every object in its true light, and right
ly estimate its nature and design, we must consider
it with reference to Christ and his cross. To the
cross of Christ all eternity has looked forward:
to the cross of Christ all eternity will look back.
The cross of Christ was, if I may so express it, the
first object which existed in the divine mind ; and
with reference to this great object all other objects
were created. With reference to the same object
they are still preserved. With reference to the same
object every event, that takes place in heaven,
earth and hell, is directed and overruled. Surely,
then, this object ought to engage our undivided at
tention. We ought to regard this world merely as
a stage, > on which the cross of Christ was to be
erected, and the great drama of the crucifixion act
ed. We ought to regard all that it contains as on
ly the scenes and draperies necessary for its exhib
ition. We ought to regard the celestial luminaries
merely as lamps, by the light of which this stupen
dous spectacle may be beheld. We ought to view
angels, men and devils as subordinate actors on the
stage, and all the commotions and revolutions of
the world as subservient to this one grand design.
Separate any part of this creation, or any event
that has ever taken place, from its relation to
Christ, and it dwindles into insignificancy. No
sufficient reason can be assigned for its existence,

68 ALL THINGS
and it appears to have been formed in vain. But
when viewed as connected with him, every thing
becomes important ; every thing then appears to
be a part of one grand, systematic, harmonious
whole ; a whole worthy of Him that formed it. It
was such a view of things, which led the apostle to
exclaim, God forbid that I should glory, save in
the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. My friends, if
we view the cross of Christ in the same light in
which it was viewed by the apostle, we shall soon
find it producing similar effects upon ourselves, and
shall experience the emotions and adopt the lan
guage of that distinguished saint.
3. From this subject, my Christian friends, you
may learn what reason you have for gratitude and
joy. You, as well as all other objects and beings,
were created for Christ. You were created on
purpose to promote his glory and execute his will.
Nay more, you were created on purpose to be his
servants, his friends, his members ; you were crea
ted that he might redeem you by his blood, sancti
fy you by his grace, dwell in you by his spirit,
form in you his image, raise you to heaven by his
power, and shew forth the unsearchable riches of
his glory in you, as vessels of mercy, through eter
nity. You were created that, at the last day,
Christ, your exalted Redeemer and Lord may be
glorified in you, as his work, and admired, as he
will be, in all them that believe. You were crea
ted, that, like so many planets, you may revolve
around Christ the Sun of Righteousness, drink in

FOR CHRIST. 69
light, and love, and glory, from his beams, and re
flect those beams to the admiring eyes of fellow
saints and angels forever and ever. Yes, these are
the great and benevolent purposes for which you
were created and destined ; you were beloved with
an everlasting love ; and with loving kindness you
were drawn to Christ, that these purposes might
be fulfilled. And they shall be all fulfilled. They
are the purposes of him with whom designs and ac
tions are the same ; who never changes, and who
will not, cannot, be disappoirited. O then, what a
gift is the gift of existence, endless existence, giv
en for such purposes as these ! What reason have
you to rejoice in such a gift, and to bless the free,
great and glorious Giver ! Can you find love for
any thing else ? Can you find affections for any
other object ? Can you waste admiration on any
thing besides ? If you were thus created for Christ,
ought not all your powers and faculties to be devo
ted to him ? Ought not your whole soul to be en
grossed and swallowed up by this infinitely worthy
object ? Ought you not always to remember that
you are not your own, that you are bought with a
price, that you are bound by every tie to glorify
Christ in your bodies and in your spirits which are
his ? This indeed you have covenanted and vow
ed to do. Come then, with willing minds, and
hearts broken with contrition, i bursting with admi
ration, and glowing with love, and zeal, and renew
your covenant engagements afresh, at Christ's
table. Cqjne and see him, by whom and for whom

70 ALL THINGS, &c.
all things were created, dying and dead for you.
See his flesh freely offered as your food. See his
blood no less freely presented to wash away your
stains. Hear him, who is Lord and heir of all
things, addressing you in the tenderest expressions
of infinite, consolatory love, saying, Come, my sis
ter, my spouse, to my table : eat, O friends ; drink,
yea, drink abundantly, O beloved. Drink, and re
member your sorrows no more. Drink, and re
member the man of sorrows, who sorrowed and
died that your sorrows might cease. Drink, and
remember him, who is now preparing a mansion
for you in heaven ; who will soon come again and
receive you to himself, and drink the fruit of the
vine new with you in the kingdom of my Father
forever. And while you remember this inestima
ble Friend, and listen to him thus adddressing you,
reply, Even so, Lord Jesus, come quickly. And
until he shall come, exclaim with united voices,
Now unto him, who hath loved, and created, and
redeemed us*, and washed us from our sins in his
own blood, to him be glory, and honor, and domin
ion, forever and ever.

SBRMOW IV.
THE WAY WHICH WICKED MEN HAVE TRODDEN.
JOB, XXII. 15, 16, 17.
HAST THOU MARKED THE OLD WAY, WHICH WICKED MEN HAVE TROD
DEN? WHICH WERE CUT DOWN OUT OF TIME, WHOSE FOUNDATION
WAS OVERTHROWN WITH A FLOOD : WHICH SAID UNTO GOD, DEPART
FROM US ; AND WHAT CAN THE ALMIGHTY DO FOR THEM ?
Wide, says our Divine Teacher, is the gate, and
broad is the way, which leadeth to* destruction ;
and many there be who go in thereat. Of this
broad way Eliphaz here speaks. Inferring from
the unprecedented afflictions of Job, that he must
be a wicked man, he asks him whether he had du
ly considered the old way which had been trodden
by other wicked men of former ages, who were
cut down out of time, whose foundation was over
thrown with a flood.
My hearers, this is an important question, a ques
tion which may be very properly addressed to all,
and from which the most salutary consequences
may result. If any of you have not suitably con
sidered the way which wicked men have trodden,
you may even now be ignorantly pursuing it ; nor
can any be sure, that he has forsaken this way, un
less he knows what it is. Permit me then to ad
dress this question to you, — Have you marked,
have you duly considered the way of wicked men,
and the end to which it leads ? If you have notr

72 THE OLD WAY
let me request your attention while I endeavor, by
the light of revelation, to trace this way, to show in
what it consists, and what is its termination.
I. Let us consider the way itself. In tracing it,
it will be proper to begin at its commencement.
It was, you will observe, even in the time of Eli-
phaz, an old way, a way which had long been trod
den. Indeed, it is almost as old as the human
race, or as the world which they inhabit ; for it
was formed in the days of our first parents, at the
time when they ate of the forbidden fruit. Then
the wide gate, which leads into the broad way, was
opened ; and, alas, it has never since been closed.
By carefully attending to the conduct of those,
who first formed the way, and first walked in it, we
may learn in what it consists. It is thus described
by the inspired historian : " And when the woman
saw that the tree was good for food ; and that it
was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired
to make one wise ; she took of the fruit thereof,
and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with
her, and he did eat."
In this account of the conduct of the first sin
ner we see, in the first place, selfishness, or a pref
erence of herself to God ; for had she loved him
supremely, she would have chosen to obey his
commands, rather than to gratify herself. This
must ever be the first sin ; for so long as any crea
ture prefers God to himself, he will choose to
please God rather than to gratify nimself; of
course, he will avoid every sin, and no temptation

OF THE WICKED. 73
will induce him to offend his Maker, while he loves
him with all his heart. ' But so soon as any crea
ture begins to prefer himself to God, he will
choose to gratify himself, rather than please his
Maker ; and will, of course, commit any sin, which
promises him self gratification or self aggrandize
ment. The second thing to be noticed in the conduct
of the first sinner, is pride. She saw that it was a
tree to be desired to make one wise ; that is, she
fancied, as the tempter had asserted, that it would
cause her to become as a god, knowing good and
evil. Now this wish was the effect of pride ; and
it was accompanied by the inseparable attendant of
pride, discontent — discontent with the situation in
which God had placed her. This sin is the natur
al consequence of selfishness ; for as soon as we
begin to prefer ourselves to God, we shall wish to
put ourselves in the place of God, and to rise
above the sphere of action which he has assigned
us, and to grasp at those things which he has not
thought proper to bestow.
The third thing in her conduct, the third step in
the way of sin, was sensuality, or a disposition to
be governed and guided by her senses, and to seek
their gratification in an unlawful manner. She saw
that the fruit of the tree was good for food, and
pleasant to the eyes. Here was something to grat
ify two of the senses, those of tasting and seeing ;
and this gratification, though forbidden, she was
determined to enjoy. The influence of sin, which
10

74 THE OLD WAY
had hitherto existed only in the passions of the
mind, began to extend itself to the appetites of the
body, and by this influence they were inflamed to
such a degree, that they prompted her to disregard
the dictates of reason and conscience, and the
commands of God.
The next step in the fatal way, was unbelief; a
distrust of God's word, and a consequent belief of
the tempter's suggestions. God had said, In the
day thou eatest, thou shalt surely die. This threat
ening she now disbelieved. The tempter said, God
doth know that ye shall not surely die ; but in the
day that ye eat of it, your eyes shall be opened,
and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.
This falsehood she did believe. This disbelief of
God's word, and belief of satan's suggestions, were
the natural consequence of sins already mentioned ;
for when the passions and appetites are inflamed
by the influence of sin, they immediately blind the
understanding in such a manner, that it can no lon
ger discovef the evidence which attends divine
truth, nor the force of those arguments and mo
tives, which should induce us to obey it. Every
thing which is urged against a compliance with our
sinful inclinations then appears weak and ground
less ; while those sophistical reasonings, which fa
vor their gratification, seem powerful and conclu
sive. In this state, therefore, the mind is com
pletely prepared to disbelieve the God of truth,
whose word opposes and forbids its sinful inclina
tions, and to believe the father of lies, who urges

OF THE WICKED. 75
us to gratify them. And this, in fact, is the source
of all the unbelief which prevails in the world ; for
the evidence attending God's word, is so convin
cing, that men never would, never could disbe
lieve, did they not first wish to disbelieve it. — But,
to proceed, God's threatenings being thus disbeliev
ed, and the lies of the tempter embraced as truth,
every barrier, which opposed her progress, was re
moved ; and the sinful propensities, that have been
mentioned, broke out into open, actual disobedi
ence. She took of the fruit of the tree and did
eat. Thus she made a full entrance into that way,
which wicked men have ever since trodden. The
first step was selfishness ; the second, pride ; the
third, sensuality ; the fourth, unbelief ; and the
last, actual, open, wilful disobedience. To the
same result every one will come, who begins to
tread in her steps. Selfishness, pride, and sensu
ality, will lead them in pursuit of forbidden objects
up to the gate which opposes their progress in the
broad way ; a gate, which is secured by God's aw
ful threatenings. Unbelief, by disregarding these
threatenings, will draw back the bolts, and then
actual disobedience will burst open the gate, and
hurry them onward, without restraint, in the broad
way. And as the first sinner was unwilling to walk
in this way alone, and became a tempter, by pre
senting the fatal fruit to her husband, and persua
ding him to eat ; so all, who have since walked in
it, have wished for companions, and enticed their
relatives, friends, and acquaintances to follow them.

76 THE OLD WAY
But without insisting on this, let us trace the far
ther progress of the first sinners in their fatal ca
reer. Though they had disbelieved God's threat
enings, they soon found, as, sooner or later, all sin
ners will find, that their unbelief did not render
them false, or prevent their fulfilment. Before the
close of the day, which they had stained by their
disobedience, their offended Maker came to call
them to an account ; and from their conduct on
that occasion, we may obtain a further acquaint
ance with the way in which sinners walk.
They exhibited sullen hardness' of heart, impeni
tence, and despair of forgiveness. They express
ed no sorrow, or penitence, nothing like broken-
ness of heart. They made no confession of sin ;
they uttered no cries for mercy ; they expressed
no wish to be restored to the favor of their offend
ed Judge.
They displayed a self-justifying temper. Adam
attempted to throw the blame upon his wife ; and
she, in turn^ endeavored to transfer it to the ser
pent. They showed a disposition to reflect upon God,
as the cause of their disobedience. The woman,
whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me ,of
the fruit of the tree, and I did eat.
In a manner precisely similar have sinners ever
since conducted. They will not confess their sins ;
they will not repent of them ; they will not cry for
mercy ; they will not seek the favor of their offend
ed God. On the contrary, they excuse and justify

OF THE WICKED. 77
themselves, and indirectly cast the blame of their
sinful conduct upon Jehovah, by saying, the pas
sions, appetites, and inclinations, which thou gav
est us, have led us to act as we have done. This
hard, impenitent, self- justify ing temper, taken in
connection with those things which were previously
mentioned, constitute the old way, which wicked
men have trodden. Of this we shall be convinced
by examining the temper and conduct of succes
sive generations of sinners ; and making proper
allowance for the different circumstances in which
they were placed. Such, for instance, was the
way trodden by that generation of mankind, which
was destroyed by the flood. I mention this gener
ation, partly, because there is an evident allusion
to it, in our text; partly, because their situation
resembled our own more nearly than did the sit
uation of our first parents ; and, partly, because we
have in the writings of Moses, and in the discourses
of our Saviour, a more particular account of their
temper and conduct, than is given of any other
generation in those early ages of the world. Now
from this account we find, that they were guilty of
the same sins, that they walked in the same path,
which has already been described.
In the first place, they were guilty of selfishness
and pride. Their sinful passions they displayed in
their disregard of the rights of their neighbors, in
their contests for superiority ; in consequence of
which the earth was filled with violence, as, we
have abundant reason to believe, it would now be,

78 THE OLD WAY '
did not human laws restrain, in some degree, the
passions of men.
In the second place, the persons who composed
this generation, were sensual and earthly minded,
governed by appetites and passions rather than by
reason, conscience and the law of God. This ap
pears from the account given us of their alliances
and connections, in forming which they seem to
have regarded nothing but external appearances,
choosing for their partners in life the irreligious,
immoral, and profane. That this was a distin
guishing trait in their character, as well as that of
the Sodomites, who lived some ages after them,
appears from the account given of their conduct
by our Saviour. As it was in the days of Noah,
says he, so shall it be in the day when the Son of
Man is revealed. They ate, they drank, they
bought, they sold, they planted, they builded, they
married and were given in marriage, and knew, or
considered not, till Noah entered into the ark, and
the flood came and destroyed them all. This, my
hearers, is a most accurate description of worldly
minded, wicked men; of men completely under
the control of their appetites and passions, and re
gardless of every thing but the present life, with
its transitory objects and pursuits. From this ac
count it also appears, that they were guilty of un
belief, impenitence, hardness of heart, and a con
sequent neglect of the day and means of grace,
and the offers of salvation. To this unbelief and
hardness of heart alone can it be ascribed, that

OF THE WICKED. 79
they did not know, or as the word signifies, did
not consider, till the flood came and destroyed
them ; for they were most clearly, and for a long
time, warned of its approach. God allowed them
a reprieve of one hundred and twenty years, dur
ing which Noah, as a preacher of righteousness,
reproved them for their sin, and warned them of
the approaching deluge, and pointed out the only
possible way of escape. In addition to their neg
lect of his warnings, they resisted the strivings,
the influences of the divine Spirit ; for we are told,
that Christ, by his Spirit, went and preached to
them, and that God said respecting them, My Spir
it shall not always strive with man ; nevertheless
his days shall be a hundred and twenty years — thus
plainly intimating, that, during that time, his Spirit
should continue to strive with them. And to what
cause is it to be ascribed, that, though thus favor
ed, thus warned, they did not consider, till it was
too late ? To their unbelief and hardness of
heart — the two great causes, to which it is still
owing, that, notwithstanding the preaching of the
gospel, the offers of salvation, and the strivings of
God's Spirit, men will not consider their latter
end, nor fly to the Saviour for refuge from the
wrath to come. This account of the way, in
which antediluvian sinners walked, is the more de
serving our attention, because our Saviour informs
us, that in the same way sinners will be found
walking, when he comes to judge the world. Now
if sinners trod this way four thousand years ago ;

80 THE OLD WAY
and if they will be still found pursuing it at the
end of time ; we may fairly infer, that they have
walked in it ever since the days of Noah, and that
they are following it at the present day ; an infer
ence, which is abundantly verified by the history
of the Jews* and their heathen neighbors, by the
writings of the prophets, by the preaching of
Christ and his apostles, and by the present charac-s
ter and conduct of sinners.
There is, however, a way, which many wicked
men have trodden, that appears to differ very wide
ly from this, though it is in reality the same — a
modification of it produced by the influence of a
religious education, or of an awakened conscience
operating upon a selfish, sinful heart. This way
it is necessary to describe particularly, lest those
who are following it should be deceived, and fancy
that they are walking, not in the old way which
wicked men have trodden, but in the narrow path
of life. To understand in what the way of which
I am speakirrg consists, it should be recollected,
that, immediately after the fall of man, God was
pleased to reveal a way, in which sinners might be
reconciled, return to him, escape the punishment
which they deserve, and regain his forfeited favor.
This way consists in repentance towards God, and
faith in a Mediator of God's providing, and reli
ance upon an atonement for sin made by that Me
diator. This way of salvation was at first revealed
to mankind in an imperfect manner, under a veil
of types and shadows. The atonement, which

OF THE WICKED. 81
Christ, the Lamb of God, intended to make in the
fulness of time, was typically represented by the
sacrifice of a lamb without spot or blemish. His
human nature, in which, as in a temple, dwelt all
the fulness of the Godhead bodily, was represented
by a tabernacle, and afterwards by a temple, in
which God manifested his presence in a sensible
manner, and in which his worshippers might ap
proach, while the mediatorial or priestly office of
Christ was shadowed forth in the appointment of
an order of men, who acted as mediators between
God and man, presenting the sacrifices of men to
God, and pronouncing the blessing of God upon
men. Now that modification of the way trodden
by wicked men, which we are at present consider
ing, consists in rejecting the Mediator, and the
atonement which God has provided, and substitu
ting something else in their place. In other words,
it consists in presumptuously attempting to ap
proach God in a way of our own devising, instead
of that way which he has provided. The first
wicked man, who walked in this way, was Cain.
While his righteous brother, Abel, agreeably to
God's appointment, offered a lamb in sacrifice, as
an atonement for his sin, Cain presented nothing
but a gift of the fruits of the earth, disbelieving the
great truth, that, without the shedding of blood,
there is no remission of sin ; and showing, that he
did not regard himself as a sinner, who needed an
atonement. The consequence was such as might
have been expected. The sacrifice of Abel, offer-
U

82 THE OLD WAY
ed in faith and in obedience to the requisitions of
God, was accepted ; while the offering of the self-
righteous Cain was rejected — a circumstance,
which led him to murmur against God, to envy,
hate, and, at length, murder his brother. In the
way thus marked out and trodden by Cain, we find
the wicked Jews in all ages of their history exceed
ingly prone to walk. Neglecting the temple where
God dwelt, and the priests or mediators whom he
had appointed, they erected high places and plant
ed groves, in which they pretended to worship Je
hovah, though in a way directly contrary to his
commands ; and, like Cain, they hated and perse
cuted those, who approached God in his own ap
pointed way, and endeavored to convince them of
the folly and sinfulness of their conduct. In the
same way their descendants were found walking in
our Saviour's time. Instead of embracing him as
the only Saviour, approaching God through him as
the Mediator, and relying on his atonement and in
tercession for acceptance, they depended on their
own works, their religious ceremonies, their alms,
fastings, prayers and moral duties. Being ignorant
of God's righteousness, they went about to estab
lish their own, and refused to submit to the righ
teousness of God. And because our Saviour and
his apostles assured them, that, in this way, they
could never be justified or saved, they hated, per
secuted, and put them to death. Soon after the
death of the apostles, the Christian church began
to apostatize from the faith, to forsake the way of

OF THE WICKED. 83
life, and to walk in the way we are describing.
They lost the power of Godliness, but multiplied
its forms, and substituted ceremonies, as a ground
of dependence for salvation. Hence the Christian
church gradually degenerated into the Church of
Rome. Neglecting Jesus Christ, the one Mediator
between God and man, they prayed to angels, to
the virgin Mary, and to departed saints, as media
tors; and, instead of relying on his merits and
atonement, they substituted in their room penan
ces, bodily austerities, superstitious observances,
and the endowment of churches and monasteries,
by which they vainly hoped to atone for their sin,
and obtain the favor of God. In a way, which is
essentially the same, many walk at the present day.
They depend for salvation on their religious servi
ces, their moral duties, their liberality to the poor,
their orthodox sentiments, or on a profession of re
ligion ; while they neglect the atonement and in
tercession of Christ, the only sure foundation, the
only way of access to the Father, and, like their
predecessors, hate, though they cannot persecute,
those, who warn them that their way is false, and
their confidence vain.
From what has been said, it appears, that this
way, though apparently different from that in which
openly wicked men walk, is essentially the same ;
arid that it conducts, of course, to the same end.
Its principal characteristics are self-righteousness
and pride, flowing from ignorance of God and of
ourselves, attended by a disbelief of the gospel,

84 THE OLD WAY
impenitence, and a substitution of something else
in the place of Christ, as a ground of dependance.
Wicked men, then, may be ranked in two classes ;
the one having no religion, the other, a false relig
ion. The first follow the tempter in his own prop
er shape, as an angel of darkness ; the second are
deceived, and led to him in the garb of an angel
of light. The first walk openly in the broad road
to destruction, without fear or remorse ; the sec
ond follow the same road, but are so blinded by ig
norance and unbelief, that they mistake it for the
path of life.
Having thus marked the old way which wicked
men have trodden, let us consider,
II. Its termination. Our Saviour informs us,
that it leads to destruction. That it does so, we
might infer from what has taken place in this
world. It led our first parents out of paradise, out
of a state of holiness and happiness into a state of
sin and misery ; out of the clear light of the knowl
edge and favor of God into a land of darkness and
the shadow of death. It led Cain into the guilt of
murder, the murder of a brother, and banished him
from the presence of God,, and constrained him to
cry, My punishment is greater than I can bear !
For walking in this way the antediluvian sinners
were cut down out of time, prematurely, being
overwhelmed by a flood ; the men of Sodom were
destroyed by a fiery storm from heaven ; the Jews
were scourged by a long series of calamities, ter
minating with their complete destruction by the

OF THE WICKED. 85
Romans. What calamities have since befallen the
Romish church, and successive generations of sin
ners, I need not inform you. But if we would see
the final termination of this old way, we must go
into the sanctuary of God, and look through the
glass of revelation into eternity. There we shall
see that this way leads directly down to the gates
of hell. We are there taught, that the souls of
those, who were destroyed by the flood, are now
spirits in prison, the prison of God's wrath ; and
may, therefore, fairly infer, that the souls of other
wicked men, who have since been cut down out of
time, are in the same situation. We are there told,
that there is no peace to the wicked ; that destruc
tion and misery are in their paths ; that they are
driven away in their wickedness ; that they shall
go away into everlasting punishment. In a word,
all the inspired writers cry with one voice, Woe
unto the wicked ! it shall be ill with him ; for the
reward of his hands shall be given him. Indeed,
it is evident from the very nature of things, that
these declarations must be true ; that such a way
as we have described can lead to nothing but end
less misery. APPLICATION.
Having endeavored to trace the old way which
wicked men have trodden, to show in what it con
sists, and what is its termination ; permit me, in
applying the subject, to inquire,
1 . Whether some of you are not walking in this

86 THE OLD WAY
way ? Are none of you guilty of selfishness in pre
ferring your own gratification to the glory of God
and the happiness of your fellow creatures ? Are
none of you influenced by pride and discontent to
murmur at the situation in which God has placed
you, and to attempt to rise above it, by recurring
to means which he has forbidden ? Are none of
you controlled by your sinful appetites, and pas
sions, and inclinations, rather than by reason, con
science, and the fear of God ? Have these evil
counsellors led none of you to desire, and to eat
forbidden fruit ; to gratify them in a way, or to a
degree, which the law of God forbids ? Do none
of you disbelieve God's solemn declarations, that
the soul who sinneth shall die ; that the wicked
shall be turned into hell, with all who forget him ?
Are none of you worldly minded, living a careless,
irreligious life ; acting as if your sole business was
to obtain and enjoy what it affords ? Are none of
you excusing and justifying your conduct at your
Creator's expense, saying, in your hearts, the appe
tites, passions, and inclinations, which thou gavest
me, cause me to conduct as I do ? If you avoid
open sins, are none of you neglecting repentance
towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ ;
substituting your own works or merits in the place
of his atonement ; trusting to your own prayers
rather than to his intercession, and thus, like the
Jews, going about to establish your own righteous
ness ? These things, you will recollect, constitute
the old way, which wicked men in all ages have

OF THE WICKED. 87
trodden ; and if they are to be found in your tem
per and conduct, then you are walking in that way.
If you feel unable to determine with certainty
what path you are pursuing, permit me to mention
three things, which may assist you in determining
where you are. In the first place, remember there
are but two ways mentioned in scripture, in one or
the other of which every man is walking. One is
that which has now been described, the old and
broad way which wicked men have trodden, and
which leads to destruction ; the other is the nar
row, good old way, marked out by the Son of. God,
in which patriarchs, prophets, apostles and mar
tyrs have walked, and which leads to life. Now
since there are only these two ways, it is evident,
that all who are not walking in the latter are pursu
ing the former. Inquire then whether you are in
the latter, the narrow path. It is totally, and in
every respect, unlike the former. Those who
walk in it are supremely influenced, not by selfish
ness, but by that love which seeketh not her own ;
not by pride, but by humility ; not by discontent,
but by constant acquiescence in the will of God.
Instead of indulging and seeking to gratify their
appetites and passions, they deny, mortify, crucify
them ; instead of disbelieving God's threatenings,
they believe them, as well as his promises ; they
are heavenly and not earthly minded ; they con
demn, instead jrf justifying themselves ; they rely
for acceptance and salvation, not on any work or
merits of their own, but on the atonement and

88 THE OLD WAY
intercession of Christ alone ; and in dependance on
his grace live a life of selfdenial, watchfulness and
prayer, endeavoring to walk even as he walked. If
this, my hearers, is not your character ; if you are
not walking in this path ; then you are most cer
tainly in the old Avay which wicked men have trod
den ; for there is no middle path. He that is not
with Christ is against him.
Again — remember that in the way of the wicked,
all men naturally walk. This the scriptures abun
dantly assert. Says the prophet, All we, like sheep,
have gone astray; we have turned every one to his
own way. And again, The Lord looked down from
heaven upon the children of men, and, behold,
they are all gone out of the way. Since then all
are naturally out of the way of life, and in the
broad road to death ; it is evident, that, if you have
never forsaken this road, if a great change has not
taken place in your feelings, views, character and
conduct, you are in the broad road still. I do not
say that it is necessary to know precisely the time
and the manner, in which this change, this passing
from one road to the other, took place. But I say
it is absolutely necessary, that it should take place.
And if you have never been convinced that you
are in the broad road, convinced that it is a sinful
and dangerous road, then you have not forsaken it.
Says our Saviour, Strive to enter in at the straight
gate ; for many, I say unto you, shall seek to en
ter in, and shall not be able. Now is it possible
that a man should strive to enter in at the straight

OF THE WICKED. 89
gate, and still know nothing of it ? Yet, if you
have not striven to enter it, you are yet in your
sins. Once more — we are taught, that the old way
trodden by wicked men, is the way of the world,
and a crowded way. Many there be, says Christ,
who go in thereat. Says the apostle to the Ephe-
sians, In time past ye walked according to the
course of this world, according to the prince of the
power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the
children of disobedience ; among whom we all
had our conversation, and were by nature the chil
dren of wrath, even as others. The narrow path,
on the contrary, is trodden by a comparatively
small number ; few there be, says our Saviour, that
find it. If then you would know in which path
you are walking, inquire whether you have many
or few companions ; whether you are walking with
the world, or contrary to it. If you find yourselves
in a crowded road, then you are in the broad road.
If you are walking with the majority of mankind,
then are you most certainly walking in the old way,
which wicked men have trodden.
2. Should any of you be convinced by these re
marks that you are in this dangerous way, permit
me to apply the subject further, by urging you to
forsake it without delay. Consider, O consider,
whither it leads, and whither it has led those, who
followed it in former ages. Consider, too, what
God has done to turn you from it. He has clearly
described it in his word. He has there traced it,
12

90 THE OLD WAY
as on a map, from its commencement to its fatal
termination. All along the path he has set up way
marks with the inscription, This road conducts to
hell; while a hand, pointing to a narrow path,
which opens to the right, has written over it, This
path leads to heaven. Lest you should be so occu
pied by the cares and business of the world, as to
pass these way-marks without noticing them, he
has placed at each of them a watchman to warn
thoughtless travellers, and to call their attention to
these inscriptions ; and lest any should rush on with
out stopping to hear their warnings, he has placed
the Sabbath, like a gate, across their path to compel
them to stop till it be opened, and to hear the warn
ing voice. To one of these gates, my impenitent
hearers, you have now come. It has compelled you
to pause, a few moments, in your sinful career ;
and, to pass away the time till the Sabbath is gone,
you have come to the house of prayer. Here is a
watchman appointed by your Creator. I stand to
call your attention to the inscriptions which he has
recorded ; to the marks which he has drawn of the
various paths in which men walk. Sinner, stop.
I have a message to thee from God. See it writ
ten with his own finger, This broad road leads to
destruction ! Look at the map which he has drawn.
See here a way opening out of the gates of para
dise, leading on, broad and crooked, through the
mazes of the world, and terminating at the iron
gate of the bottomless abyss. See written on its
margin, Destruction and misery are in this path ; it

OF THE WICKED. 9]
leads down to the chambers qf eternal death. This
is the path of the openly irreligious. See close by
its side another path, opened by the first murderer.
See written on it, There is a way ivhich seemeth right
unto a man, but the end thereof is death. This is
the path of the self righteous, the formalist, the
hypocrite, and, like the other, leads to death. Sin
ners, you have seen this path ; it it yours ; it is the
path in which you are now walking. You have also
seen its end. Let it be yours then no longer. This
day, this hour, forsake it, and enter that path,
which opens to the right hand. Here you may see
it ; and the straight gate, which leads into it, opens
to every one who knocks. Close by its side stands
a cross; rays of light darting from it, illuminate
and mark out the path. Just within the gate
stands an invisible guide, with extended hand offer
ing to lead, to assist, to support you; while at the
termination are the wide open gates of heaven,
from which issue a flood of glory, which you will
discover more and more clearly, as you approach
them. O, then, enter this path. Strive, strive to
enter in at the straight gate. — Will you reply, I
know not what to do. I am in utter darkness. I
see not the gate, nor the way, nor the cross. Then
cry earnestly for light. Let your heart be towards
the king's highway, and light will soon shine upon
your steps. Above all, take not another step in
the fatal road, which you have hitherto pursued.
Pass not this Sabbath, this warning way-mark, lest
you never see another.

92 SINS ESTIMATED
SERMOX V.
SINS ESTIMATED BY TIIE LIGHT OF HEAVEN.
PSALM XC. 8.
THOU HAST SET OUR INIQUITIES BEFORE THEE, OUR SECRET SINS IN THE
LIGHT OF THY COUNTENANCE.
It is a well known fact, that the appearance of
objects, and the ideas which we form of them, are
very much affected by the situation in which they
are placed with respect to us, and by the light in
which they are seen. Objects seen at a distance,
for example, appear much smaller than they really
are. The same object, viewed through different
mediums, will often exhibit very different appear
ances. A lighted candle, or a star, appears bright
during the absence of the sun ; but when that lu
minary returns, their brightness is eclipsed. Since
the appearance of objects, and the ideas which we
form of them, are thus affected by extraneous cir
cumstances, it follows, that no two persons will
form precisely the same ideas of any object, unless
they view it in the same light, or are placed with
respect to it in the same situation.
These remarks have a direct and important
bearing upon the intended subject of the present
discourse. No person can read the scriptures can
didly and attentively, without perceiving, that God
and men differ very widely in the opinion which
they entertain respecting almost every object. And

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 93
in nothing do they differ more widely, than in the
estimate which they form of man's moral charac
ter, and of the malignity and desert of sin. Noth
ing can be more evident than the fact, that, in the
sight of God, our sins are incomparably more nu
merous, aggravated, and criminal, than they ap
pear to us. He regards us as deserving of an end
less punishment, while we scarcely perceive, that
we deserve any punishment at all. Now whence
arises this difference ? The remarks, which have
just been made will inform us. God and men view
objects through a very different medium, and are
placed with respect to them in very different situa
tions. God is present with every object ; he views
it as near, arid therefore sees its real magnitude.
But many objects, especially those of a religious
nature, are seen by us at a distance, and, of course,
appear to us smaller than they really are. God
sees every object in a perfectly clear light ; but we
see most objects dimly and indistinctly. In fine,
God sees all objects just as they are ; but we see
them through a deceitful medium, which ignorance,
prejudice and self love place between them and us.
Apply these remarks to the case before us. The
Psalmist, addressing God, says, Thou hast set our
iniquities before thee, our secret sins in the light
of thy countenance. That is, our iniquities or
open transgressions, and our secret sins, the sins
of our hearts, are placed, as it were, full before
God's face, immediately under his eye ; and he
sees them in the pure, clear, all-disclosing light

94 SINS ESTIMATED
of his own holiness and glory. Now if we would
see our sins as they appear to him, that is, as they
really are ; if we would see their number, black
ness and criminality, and the malignity and desert
of every sin, we must place ourselves, as nearly as
is possible, in his situation, and look at sin, as it
were, through his eyes. We must place ourselves
and our sins in the centre of that circle, which is
irradiated by the light of his countenance, where
all his infinite perfections are clearly displayed,
where his awful majesty is seen, where his concen
trated glories blaze, and burn, and dazzle, with in
sufferable brightness. And in order to this, we
must, in thought, leave our dark and sinful world,
where God is unseen, and almost forgotten, and
where, consequently, the evil of sinning against
him cannot be fully perceived, — and mount up to
heaven, the peculiar habitation of his holiness and
glory, where he does not, as here, conceal himself
behind the veil of his works, and of second causes,
but shines forlh the unveiled God, and is seen as
he is.
Let us then, my hearers, attempt this adventur
ous flight. Let us follow the path by which our
blessed Saviour ascended to heaven, and soar
upward to the great capital of the universe, to
the palace, and the throne of its greater King. As
we rise, the earth fades away from our view ;
now we leave worlds, and suns, and systems be
hind us. Now we reach the utmost limits of cre
ation ; now the last star disappears, and no ray

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 95
of created light is seen. . But a new light now
begins to dawn and brighten upon us. It is the
light of heaven, which pours in a flood of glory
from its wide open gates, spreading continual me
ridian day, far and wide through the regions of
etherial space. Passing swiftly onward through
this flood of day, the songs of heaven begin to burst
upon your ears, and voices of celestial sweetness,
yet loud as the sound of many waters and of
mighty thunderings, are heard exclaiming, Alleluia !
for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth. Blessing,
and glory, and honor,, and power, be unto Him
that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb, forev
er. A moment more, and you have passed the
gates ; you are in the midst of the city, you are
before the eternal throne, you are in the immedi
ate presence of God, and all his glories are blaz
ing around you like a consuming fire. Flesh and
blood cannot support it ; your bodies dissolve into
their original dust, but your immortal souls remain,
and stand naked spirits before the great Father of
spirits. Nor, in losing their tenements of clay,
have they lost the powers of perception. No : they
are now all eye, all ear, nor can you close the eyelids
of the soul, to shut out, for a moment, the dazzling,
overpowering splendors, which surround you, and
which appear like light condensed, like glory which
may be felt. You see, indeed, no form or shape ;
and yet your whole souls perceive, with intuitive
clearness and certainty, the immediate, awe-inspir
ing presence of Jehovah. You see no counte-

96 SINS ESTIMATED
nance ; and yet you fe.el as if a countenance of
awful majesty, in which all the perfections of divin
ity shone forth, were beaming upon you wherever
you turn. You see no eye ; and yet a piercing,
heart-searching eye, an eye of omniscient purity,
every glance of which goes through your souls like
a flash of lightning, seems to look upon you from
every point of surrounding space. You feel as if
enveloped in an atmosphere, or plunged in an ocean
of existence, intelligence, perfection and glory ;
an ocean, of which your laboring minds can take
in only a drop ; an ocean, the depth of which you
cannot fathom, and the breadth of which you can
never fully explore. But while you feel utterly
unable to comprehend this infinite Being, your
views of him, so far as they extend, are perfectly
clear and distinct. You have the most vivid per
ceptions, the most deeply graven impressions, of an
infinite, eternal, spotless mind, in which the ima
ges of all things, past, present, and to come, are
most harmonfously seen, arranged in the most per
fect order, and defined with the nicest accuracy :
of a mind, which wills with infinite ease, but whose
volitions are attended by a power omnipotent and
irresistible, and which sows worlds, suns and sys
tems through the fields of space with far more fa
cility, than the husbandman scatters his seed upon
the earth ; — of a mind, whence have flowed all the
streams, which ever watered any part of the uni
verse with life, intelligence, holiness, or happiness,
and which is' still full, overflowing and inexhausti-

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 97
ble. You perceive also, with equal clearness and
certainty, that this infinite, eternal, omnipotent,
omniscient, all-wise, all-creating mind is perfectly
and essentially holy, a pure flame of holiness, and
that, as such, he regards sin with unutterable, irre
concilable detestation and abhorrence. With a
voice, which reverberates through the wide ex
panse of his dominions, you hear him saying, as
the Sovereign and Legislator of the universe, Be
ye holy; for I, the Lord your God, am holy. And
you see his throne surrounded, you see heaven fill
ed by those only, who perfectly obey this com
mand. You see thousands of thousands, and ten
thousand times ten thousand of angels and archan
gels, pure, exalted, glorious intelligences, who re
flect his perfect image, burn like flames of fire
with zeal for his glory, and seem to be so many
concentrations of wisdom, knowledge, holiness and
love; a. fit retinue for the thrice holy Lord of
hosts, whose holiness and all-filling glory they un
ceasingly proclaim.
And now, my hearers, if you are willing to see
your sins in their true colors ; if you would right
ly estimate their number, magnitude, and crim
inality, bring them into the hallowed place, where
nothing is seen but the whiteness of unsullied
purity, and the splendors of uncreated glory ;
where the sun itself would appear only as a
dark spot, and there, in the midst of this circle
of seraphic intelligences, with the infinite God
pouring all the light of his countenance round
13

98 SINS ESTIMATED
you, review your lives, contemplate your offen
ces, and see how they appear. Recollect that
the God, in whose presence you are, is the Being,
who forbids sin, the Being, of whose eternal law
sin is the transgression, and against whom every sin
is committed. Keeping this in mind, let us,
I. Bring forward what the Psalmist, in our text,
calls our iniquities, that is, our more gross and
open sins, and see how they appear in the light of
God's countenance. Have any of you been guilty
of impious, profane, passionate, or indecent, cor
rupting language ? How does such language sound
in heaven ? in the ears of angels, in the ears of
that God, who gave us our tongues for noble pur
poses ? Bring forward all the language of this kind
which you have ever uttered ; see it written, as in
a book ; and, while you read it, remember that the
eye of God is reading it at the same time. Then
say, Is this fit language for an immortal being to
utter ? Is this fit language for God to hear ? Espe
cially, let every one inquire, whether he has ever
violated the third commandment, by using the
name of God in a profane or irreverent manner.
If he has, let him bring forward his transgressions
of this kind, and see how they appear in the light
of God's presence. Sinner, this is the Being,
whose adorable name thou hast profaned, and who,
bending upon thee a look of awful displeasure,
says, I will not hold him guiltless, that taketh my
name in vain. O, what an aspect of shocking,
heaven-daring impiety, does this sin assume, when

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 99
viewed in this situation ! — Have any of you been
guilty of uttering what is untrue ? If so, bring for
ward all the falsehoods, all the deceitful expres
sions, which you have ever uttered, and see how
they appear in the presence of the God of truth ;
of that God, who has declared, that he abhors a
lying tongue, and that all liars shall have their
portion in the burning lake. O, what is it to stand
convicted of falsehood, before such a God as
this ! — Have any of you been guilty, either at
home, or in foreign countries, of perjury, or false
swearing ? If so, you may here see the awful Be
ing, whom you mocked, by calling him to witness
the truth of a known, deliberate lie. And how,
think you, such conduct appears in his eyes ? How
does it now appear in your own ? When you took
that false oath; when you said, so may God help
me, as I speak the truth, you did, in effect, utter a
prayer, that his vengeance might fall upon you, if
what you Swore was untrue. And will not God
take you at your word ? Will not that vengeance,
which you imprecated, fall upon you ? O, be assur
ed that it will, unless deep, timely repentance and
faith in Christ prevent. Nor is the guilt of those,
who share the gain of perjury, and permit such as
are employed by them to make use of it, much
less black and aggravated in the estimation of him,
whose judgment is according to truth.
Have any of you transgressed the command,
which says, Remember the Sabbath day to keep it
holy ? Such transgressions, I am aware, appear

100 SINS ESTIMATED
very trivial on earth ; but do they appear so to him
who gave this command ? Do they appear so in
heaven, where an everlasting Sabbath is observed ?
Let those, who have been guilty of such transgres
sions, hear a voice from the glory around them,
saying, I, to whom you are indebted for all your
time, allowed you six days for the performance of
your necessary labors, and reserved but one for
myself, but one to be employed exclusively in wor
shipping me, and in working out your own salva
tion. But even this one day you denied me ;
when spent in my service, you considered it as a
weariness, and therefore employed it, either wholly
or in part, in serving yourselves ; thus proving
yourselves to be wholly unqualified and unfit to en
joy an endless Sabbath in my presence.
Have any of you — we must propose the unpleas
ant question — been guilty of violating the command
which forbids adultery, and its kindred vices? If
so, bring forward these abominations, and see how
they look in* heaven, in the presence of the holy
angels, in the sight of that thrice Holy God, who
has said, I will come near and be a swift witness
against the adulterers, and they shall have their
portion in the lake of fire.
Have any of you been guilty of fraud, injustice,
or dishonesty ? Have you in your possession any
portion of another's property, without the owner's
consent fairly obtained ? If so, bring forward your
dishonest gains ; hold out the hands which are pol
luted by them, and see how they look in heaven,

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 101
in the presence of that God, who has said, Let no
man overreach or defraud his brother in any mat
ter; for the Lord is the avenger of all such.
Have any of you been guilty of intemperance ?
If so, let such look at themselves, and see how a
drunkard, a rational being, self-degraded to a level
with the beasts and wallowing in the mire of his
own pollution, appears in heaven, in the society of
pure angelic spirits, in the sight of that God, who
endued him with intellectual powers, and thus ca
pacitated him for being raised to an equality with
the angels.
While attending to the preceding remarks, prob
ably many, perhaps most of my hearers may have
felt as if they were not personally concerned in
them, as if they were guilty of none of these gross
iniquities. I would indeed hope, that of some
of them, at least, none of you are guilty. But
these are by no means the only iniquities, of
which God takes notice ; for our text further in
forms us, that he has set our secret sins, the sins of
our hearts, in the light of his countenance. Let
us then,
II. Bring our hearts into heaven, and there, lay
ing them open to view, see how they will appear
in that world of unclouded light, and unsullied
purity. And, O, how do they appear ! What a disclos
ure is made, when, with the dissecting knife of a
spiritual anatomist, we lay open the human heart,
with all its dark recesses, and intricate windings,

102 SINS ESTIMATED
and expose the lurking abominations, which it con
ceals, not to the light of day, but to the light of
heaven ! My hearers, even in this sinful world the
spectacle which such a disclosure would exhibit
could not be borne. The man, whose heart should
thus be laid open to public view, would be banish
ed from society ; nay, he would himself fly from it,
overwhelmed with shame and confusion. Of this
every man is sensible, and, therefore, conceals his
heart from all eyes with jealous care. Every man
is conscious of many thoughts and feelings, which
he would be ashamed to express to his most inti
mate friend. Even those profligate, abandoned
wretches, who glory in foaming out their own
shame, and whose mouths, like an open sepulchre,
breathe out moral contagion, putrefaction, and
death, scarcely dare utter to their own equally
abandoned associates every thought and feeling,
which rises within them. And if this is the fact,
if the heart, laid open to view, would appear thus
black in this dark, sinful world; who can describe,
or conceive of the blackness which it must exhibit,
when surrounded by the dazzling whiteness of hea
ven, and seen in the light of God's presence, the
light of his holiness and glory ? How do proud,
self-exalting thoughts appear, when viewed in the
presence of him, before whom all the nations of
the earth are less than nothing and vanity ? How
do self-will, impatience, and discontent with the
allotments of Providence appear, when viewed as
exercised before the throne of the infinite, eternal,

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 103
universal Sovereign ? How do angry, envious, re
vengeful feelings appear in the eyes of the God of
love, and in those regions of love, where, since the
expulsion of the rebel angels, not one such feeling
has ever been exercised? How do wanton, im
pure thoughts appear — but we cannot pursue the
loathsome, sickening enumeration. Surely, if all
the evil thoughts and wrong feelings which have
passed in countless numbers through either of
our hearts, were poured out in heaven, angels
would stand aghast at the sight, and all their be
nevolence would scarcely prevent them from ex
claiming in holy indignation, Away with him to
the abode of his kindred spirits in the abyss ! To
the omniscient God alone would the sight not be
surprising. He knows, and he alone knows, what
is in the heart of man ; and what he knows of it
he has described in brief, but terribly expressive
terms. The heart of the sons of men is full of
evil, and madness is in their hearts. The heart is
deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked !
Thus our own hearts must appear even to us, if we
view them in the light of God's countenance, and
recollect, that, in his sight, thoughts and feelings
are actions, that a wanton look is adultery, and ha
tred murder.
III. Having thus viewed our actual sins of heart
and life, as they appear in the light of heaven,
let us take a similar view of our sins of omis
sion. Should we neglect to do this, we should see
but a small part of our sinfulness ; for our sins of

104 SINS ESTIMATED
omission are by far the most numerous, and by no
means the least criminal offences, of which we are
guilty. But before we proceed to take this view,
allow me to remind you, once more, where you
are, and in whose presence you stand. Recollect
all which you have heard and seen of God's infi
nite perfections ; of his unapproachable glory, of
the offices which he sustains, of the works which
he has performed, of the blessings which he has
bestowed upon us, upon our fellow creatures.
Look at him, once more, as he appears when seen
in the light of heaven ; as he appears in the eyes
of the angels and archangels around you, and then
say what he deserves from his creatures. Does
he not deserve, can you avoid perceiving that he
deserves, all their admiration, love, reverence, con
fidence, gratitude and obedience ? Does he not,
O does he not, deserve to be loved, and feared,
and served with all the heart and soul and mind
and strength ? This, you are sensible, is what his
law requires* of us; and can any requisition be
more just and reasonable ? Can we refuse to com
ply with it ; can we withhold our affections and
services from such a being as this, without incur
ring great and aggravated guilt ? Yet this, my fel
low sinners, is the being, from whom we have all
withheld our affections and services. Our whole
lives present one unbroken series of duties neglec
ted, of favors not acknowledged. And, O, how
do they appear, when we review them in the light
of God's countenance ! When we see before us

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 105
our Creator, our Preserver, our Benefactor, our
Sovereign, and our heavenly Father ; when we see
in him, to whom all these titles belong, infinite ex
cellence, perfection, glory and beauty ; when we
see with what profound veneration, with what rap
tures of holy, grateful affection, he is regarded
and served by all the bright armies of heaven ; —
and then turn and contemplate our past lives, and
reflect how they must appear in his sight, can we
refrain from exclaiming with Job, We have heard
of thee by the hearing of the ear, but now our
eyes see thee ; wherefore we abhor ourselves, and
repent in dust and ashes ? I have sinned ; what
shall I say unto thee, O thou Preserver of men?
Must not each of us say with the Psalmist, Innu
merable evils have compassed me about ; my in
iquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not
able to look up ; they are more in number than the
hairs of my head ; therefore my heart faileth me ?
Nay more, when you see what God is, and how he
is worshipped in heaven, and then look at the cold
ness, the formality, the want of reverence, with
which you have often approached him in prayer,
and listened to his word, must you not feel con
scious, that, should he call you into judgment, you
could not answer for one in a thousand of the in
iquities, which have stained your holy things, your
religious duties ?
But the duties, which we owe to God, are not
the only duties, which we are required, and which
we have neglected, to perform. While his law
14

106 SINS ESTIMATED
requires us to love him with all the heart, it also re
quires us to love our neighbor as ourselves. And
this general command virtually includes a great
number of subordinate precepts ; precepts, which
prescribe the duties of the various relations, that
subsist between us and our fellow creatures. And
how far have we obeyed these precepts ? How
far have we performed the duties, which God re
quires of us, as husbands, as wives, as parents, as
children, as masters, as servants, as citizens and as
members of the human family? When we spread
our lives before God, and look at them as they ap
pear in the light of his countenance, can we fail
to perceive, that we have, in all these respects,
been grossly deficient, that we have left undone
many, very many things, which we ought to have
done, and that we are far from having discharged
the duties of a single relation, which we sustain ?
O, how much more might we have done, than we
actually have done, to promote the temporal and
eternal happiness of all, with whom we are con
nected !
Nor do our sins of omission end here. There
is another being, whom we are under infinite ob
ligations to love, and praise, and serve with su
preme affection. This being is the Lord Jesus
Christ, considered as our Redeemer and Saviour,
who has bought us with his own blood. We are
required, and sacredly bound to feel, that we are
not our own, but his ; to prefer him to every earth
ly object, to rely upon him with implicit confidence.

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 107
to live, not to ourselves, but to him, and to honor
him even as we honor the Father. Every moment
then, in which we neglected to obey these com
mands, we were guilty of a new sin of omission.
Nor have we the smallest excuse for neglecting to
obey these commands ; for he is most worthy of all
which they require. Even the angels, for whom
he never died, regard him as worthy to receive ev
ery thing, which creatures can give. Much more
then may it be expected, that we, for whom he has
done and suffered so much, should regard and treat
him as worthy. But how grossly have we failed in
performing this part of our duty ? How must the
manner, in which we have treated his beloved Son,
appear in the sight of God ? How does it appear
to us, when we contemplate him as he appears in
heaven ; when we see the place which he there
fills ; when we recollect, that in him all the fulness
of the Godhead dwells, and that to him are un
ceasingly ascribed wisdom, and strength, and bless
ing, and honor, and glory, and power ?
The subject before us is far from being exhaust
ed, and very far from having had justice done to
it; but we must leave it, and hasten to a conclu
sion. Before we close, however, permit me to ask,
whether you cannot now perceive the reason, why
your sins appear more numerous and criminal in
the sight of God, than they do in your own ? Have
you seen or heard nothing, which convinces you,
that they are far more numerous and aggravated
than you had supposed ? If so, you have seen

108 SINS ESTIMATED
nothing of what has been exhibited ; you have,
properly speaking, heard nothing, which has been
said ; you have not seen your sins in the light of
God's countenance ; for had you seen them in that
light, they would have appeared, in some measure,
to you, as they appear to God himself. Witness,
for instance, the effect, which a view of God's glo
ry produced upon the prophet Isaiah. Though he
was an eminently good man, and had probably few
er sins to answer for, than either of us, yet when,
in vision, he saw Jehovah seated upon his eter
nal throne, and heard the surrounding seraphim
exclaiming, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts ;
the whole earth is full of his glory, — he cried out
in amazement and consternation, Woe is me ! for
I am undone ; I am a man of unclean lips. In a
similar manner, my hearers, would you have been
affected, had you seen even but a glimpse of those
glories, which we have vainly attempted to exhibit.
Can you not easily conceive, that this would have
been the case ? Can you not conceive, that, were
you really placed in heaven, before the throne of
God, with all the light of his glory shining around
you, all the majesty of his countenance beaming
upon you, every glance of his omniscient eye pierc
ing your hearts, — your sins would appear to you
far more black and numerous, than they now do ?
If so, allow me to remind you, that a day is ap
proaching, in which you will be constrained to see
your sins, as they appear in the light of God's
countenance, When that day arrives, his eternal

BY THE LIGHT OF HEAVEN. 109
Son, the appointed Judge, will be seen coming in
the clouds of heaven, with all his Father's glories
blazing around him, and all the bright armies of
heaven following in his train. Seated on a throne
of resplendent whiteness, with a countenance, from
the terrors of which the heavens and the earth
will flee affrighted, he will summon the whole race
of men before him, and there cause their lives to
pass in review, expose all their secret sins, lay open
the inmost recesses of our hearts ; while the flood
of pure, celestial light, which pours itself around
him, will, by contrast, cause their blackness to ap
pear seven fold more black. Then all disputes res
pecting the depravity of mankind, and the demerit
of sin, will be ended forever. Then no more com
plaints of the strictness of God's laws, or of the
severity of the punishment, which it denounces up
on transgressors, will be heard ; for every mouth
shall be stopped, and all the world stand guilty be
fore God. But a conviction of sinfulness and guilt
will then come too late ; for there is no available re
pentance beyond the grave. He that is found a
sinner at the judgment day, will continue a sinner,
and be treated as a sinner, forever. O, then, my
hearers, be persuaded now to come to the light, that
your deeds may be reproved, and set in order before
you ; exercise such feelings respecting them, and
so judge yourselves, that you may not be condemn
ed of the Lord in that day.

110 MEN TRIED,
SERMOJ VI.
MEN TRIED, AND FOUND DEFECTIVE.
DANIEL V. 27.
THOU ART WEIGHED IN ' THE BALANCES, AND ART -FOUND WANTING.
In the preceding part of this chapter we are in
formed, that Belshazzar, king of Babylon, made a
great feast to a 'thousand of his lords and drank
wine before the thousand. And while he tasted the
wine, he commanded his servants to bring forth the
golden vessels, which were taken out of the house
of God at Jerusalem ; and he, with his guests,
drank wine in them, and praised the gods of gold
and silver, of brass and iron, of wood and of stone.
But while they were thus insulting the Majesty of
heaven and earth, by consuming his bounty upon
their lusts, and profaning the vessels of his sanctu
ary, in the same hour there came forth fingers of a
man's hand, and wrote over against the candlestick
upon the plaster of the wall of the palace, and the
king saw the part ofthe hand, which wrote. Though
he knew not the awful import of the mysterious
words thus written, his guilty conscience soon told
him, that he had no reason to expect messages of
mercy from the invisible world ; and therefore his
countenance was changed and his thoughts troubled
him, so that the joints of his loins were loosed and
his knees smote one against another. Nor were
his terrors without foundation ; for after the hand

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 1 1 1
was withdrawn, the words, mene, tekel, uphabsin,
were found written ; words, which were thus inter
preted by Daniel the prophet — mene, God hath
numbered thy kingdom and finished it ; tekel, thou
art weighed in the balances, and art found wanting ;
upharsin, thy kingdom is divided, and given to the
Medes and Persians. The justness of this interpre
tation was confirmed by the event, for that same
night was Belshazzar slain.
My friends, this story affords an instructive, ad
monitory lesson to us all ; for though we have not,
like Belshazzar, profaned the consecrated vessels
ofthe Lord, or praised the gods of the heathen,
who are vanity and a lie, yet we have, in various
ways insulted our Creator and provoked him to
jealousy. We have often consumed his bounty
upon our lusts ; we have perverted those faculties,
which ought to have been consecrated to his ser
vice ; we have loved and served and idolized the
world, and the God, in whose hand our breath is,
and whose are all our ways we have not glorified ;
and though the displeasure of offended heaven is
not now suddenly and openly displayed, as it was
in the days of Daniel ; though no hand is now sent,
to write the sentence of condemnation on the walls
of our houses, yet there is still an invisible witness,
which continually records our actions ; there is
still a just and omniscient God, by whom these ac
tions are weighed ; it is still true that we shall re
ceive of him a just recompense of reward, accord
ing to our works. Our days are already number-

112 MEN TRIED,
ed and will soon be finished ; for God has set
bounds to our lives which we cannot pass. Soon
shall we be weighed in the balance of eternal truth
and justice, and if we are found wanting, we shall
be cut in sunder, and have a portion appointed us
with hypocrites and unbelievers. And say, my
friends, are you all prepared to pass this solemn
test ? Should the same hand, which wrote the doom
of impious Belshazzar on the plaster of the wall of
his palace, be now commissioned to write our names,
our characters and our doom on the plaster of the
walls of this house, are there none here present,
whose thoughts would trouble them ; none, whose
countenances would be changed by conscious guilt ;
none, over against whose names the damning sen
tence, tekel, would be seen inscribed ?
This is a most interesting and important question
to all of us ; a question, which ought by no means
to remain doubtful ; a question, which it is, per
haps, as mucji as our immortal souls are worth, to
leave for a single day undecided. And why should
it remain undecided ? Have we not, in our own .
hands, the balance in which our actions and char
acters will one day be weighed ? Has not the Judge
himself informed us, in the clearest manner, of the
rules and maxims by which he will be guided in
determining our irrevocable doom ? Let us, then,
avail ourselves of the information, which he has
given us, and resolve, before we leave this house,
to know the worst of our situation, and ascertain
what sentence we have reason to expect from the

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 113
mouth of God. Let us, this evening, anticipate
the proceedings of the judgment day, and impar
tially weigh our characters, hopes and pretensions
in the balance of the sanctuary, that we may dis
cover, before discovery will be too late, whether we
are prepared to meet our Judge in peace.
I. Let us place in this balance the pretensions
and characters of those, who hope for heaven be
cause they were born in a Christian country, are
descended from pious parents ; and were by them
in their infancy given up to God in the ordinance
of baptism, and have enjoyed the advantages of a
religious education. That there are persons, who
build their eternal hopes on this foundation, daily
experience but too plainly evinces ; and, perhaps,
there may be some such in this assembly. If so,
we must assure them, that they are building upon
the sand, and that they will be found wanting, when
weighed at the bar of God. For though the priv
ileges, with which such persons are favored, afford
them peculiar advantages for becoming religious ;
yet they do not render them so, but, on the contra
ry, unless suitably improved, greatly aggravate their
guilt and punishment. To whom much is given,
of them will much be required ; and those, who are
thus early taught their Lord's will, unless they per
form it, will be beaten with many stripes. Think
not, says John the Baptist to the Jews, who trusted
in their religious privileges, — think not to say with
in yourselves, we have Abraham to our father ; that
is, trust not in your descent from that pious patri-
15

114 MEN TRIED,
arch, nor to your covenant relation to God ; for I
say unto you, that God is able, of these stones, to
raise up children unto Abraham. To the same
purpose St. Paul writes to the Philippian Chris
tians. If any man, says he, thinketh that he hath
whereof he might trust in the flesh, I have more :
Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel,
of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew ofthe Hebrews;
as touching the law, a Pharisee. But, he adds,
what things were gain to me, those I counted loss
for Christ.
II. Let us bring to the test of the law and the
testimony, the characters and hopes of those, who
are trusting for salvation to a good natural dispo
sition, and a harmless, inoffensive life. It is pos
sible, that some of you, my friends, may be trusting
to these things. You can plead, that your tempers
are gentle, conciliating, mild and amiable ; that your
conduct and deportment are winning and prepos
sessing ; that you are admired and beloved by your
friends and acquaintance, and are not conscious of
having, in a single instance, wilfully injured your
fellow creatures or offended your Creator. But if
you can plead nothing more than this, you will most
certainly be found wanting in the sight of that God,
by whom actions are weighed. He will not be
satisfied with a bare negative goodness, if we may
be allowed the expression. He will not think it
sufficient, that you have abstained from outward
offences, or avoided overt acts of sin, while you
have failed to perform what he has commanded.

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 115
Those who leave undone what they ought to do,
will be as certainly, if not as severely punished, as
those, who do what they ought not to have done.
Not only those vines which produce the grapes of
Sodom, and the clusters of Gomorrha, but those
also, which do not produce the fruits of holiness,
will be cast into the fire ; and though you are cov
ered with leaves, and adorned with flowers ; though
you make a fair and flourishing appearance in the
sight of men, yet he must and will consider you as
barren and unprofitable, because you are destitute
of these fruits ; he must condemn you as slothful
and unfaithful servants, because you have neglect
ed to improve the talents with which you were en
trusted. It was part of the heavy charge brought
against the king of Babylon, that he had not glori
fied the God, in whose hands his life was, and
whose were all his ways. To the same charge you
must plead guilty, since you have never glorified,
nor even sincerely aimed to glorify God. The ami
able dispositions in which you trust, do not lead
you to seek his glory, or to obey his commands.
In fact, they have nothing in them of the nature of
true religion ; but are merely corporeal instincts,
and are often found in perfection among irrational
animals. You are, therefore, found wanting. You
want the one thing needful ; and were our blessed
Saviour now on earth, he would say to each of you,
as he did to the amiable young ruler, one thing thou
lackest. Go, and sell all that thou hast, and give to
the poor, and come, take up thy cross and follow me.

116 MEN TRIED,
III. Another class, perhaps, will boldly come
forward and say, though these characters are just
ly considered as deficient, yet we do not fear that
we shall be found wanting ; for we have something
more than mere negative goodness to plead. In
stead of misimproving, or abusing our time and
talents, we have improved them with diligence and
faithfulness. Instead of injuring our fellow crea
tures, we have endeavored to promote their happi
ness by every means in our power. We have been
sober, temperate, honest, and industrious ; have
carefully fulfilled all the social and relative duties
of life ; have provided for the support of our own
families, and been kind and liberal to the poor and
afflicted. In short, we have been useful members
of society, and have faithfully discharged the vari
ous duties, which we owed to our parents, our
children, our friends, and our country. We do not,
indeed, pretend to be perfect, and confess that, in
the course of our lives, we have sometimes been
induced by strong and sudden temptations to say
or do things, which were, perhaps, improper and
sinful. But we have always been sorry for these
offences, and they are but few and trifling compar
ed with our good actions. We therefore trust,
that a merciful God has forgiven them, and are
ready to appear cheerfully at his tribunal, whenev
er he shall think proper to summon us away.
Such ever has been and ever will be the language
of those, who are ignorant of their own hearts,
and of the requirements of God's law ; and such

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 117
we have reason to fear, is the secret language of
some in this assembly. But we must assure you,
my friends, that, if you can plead nothing more
than this, you will certainly be found wanting at
the bar of God, however safe and confident you
may feel ; nor can you possibly escape, unless the
Judge should break his word, and act contrary to
his own solemn declarations. He has summed up
the law, by which you will be tried in the two great
commands which enjoin it upon us to love God
with all our hearts, and our neighbor as ourselves.
Now even though we should allow what we pre
sume none of you will pretend, that you have
through life perfectly obeyed this latter command,
and loved your neighbor as yourselves ; yet you
would still be condemned for neglecting to love
God with all your hearts. The performance of
all the duties, which you owe your fellow creatures,
can make no atonement for neglecting the far
more important duties, which you owe to your
God ; for as our Saviour has said, in a similar case,
these ought ye to have done, and not to have left
the other undone. If, therefore, we should even
allow the truth of all your pleas, you would still
be found guilty, when weighed in the balance of
the sanctuary, of wanting that perfect love to God,
which the divine law inflexibly requires of all, who
seek to be justified by its works.
But we cannot allow the truth of these pleas.
We cannot allow that any of you have perfectly
discharged the duties, which you owe your fellow

118 MEN TRIED,
creatures. You know, you must know, that you
have not loved your neighbors as yourselves, and
that, therefore, in this respect also, you will be
found wanting. But you will, perhaps, object, that
it is impossible for any one to love his neighbor as
himself; it is contrary to nature ; it is morally im
possible ; and since God is a merciful being, he
certainly will not judge us by this severe law, but
will make some allowance for the imperfections
and infirmities of his creatures. If such are your
hopes, listen to our Saviour and his apostle, and
they will vanish at once. Says the apostle, as ma
ny as have sinned without law, shall also perish
without law ; and as many, as have sinned in, or
under, the law, shall be judged by the law. But
will not the rigor of this law be mitigated ? No ;
for, says the Judge, though heaven and earth
should pass away, yet one jot or one tittle shall in
no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.
Whosoever therefore shall break one of the least
of these coihmandments and shall teach men so ;
the same shall be called least in the kingdom of
heaven ; that is, shall never enter it ; for I say un
to you, that except your righteousness exceed the
righteousness of the scribes and pharisees, ye
shall, in no wise, enter into the kingdom of heav
en. Yet the pharisees had, at least, as much right
eousness, as any moralist, at the present day.
Some of them could say, we are not as other men
are, unjust, extortioners, or adulterers. We fast
twice in a week, and give tithes of all we possess.

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 119
But it is evident, from our Saviour's own declara
tions, that those who can say nothing more than
this, will be found wanting, and never be admit
ted into the kingdom of God.
IV. Perhaps another class will come forward
and say, we allow that those, who trust to their
own moral duties for salvation, will be justly
condemned; but we have carefully obeyed the
commands of the first table ; we do not trust to
our moral duties, and therefore hope to escape.
We have never worshipped false Gods; we have
made no graven images ; we have never taken
God's name in vain, nor do we profane his holy
sabbath. On the contrary, we entertain a great
degree of veneration and love for God, we worship
him daily in our families and closets ; we study his
word, honor his institutions, and diligently attend
to the preaching of the gospel, in season, and out
of season.
But permit me to ask, — are you equally careful
to perform all the duties, which you owe to your
fellow creatures? Does not your whole religion-
consist in the observance of external forms, prayer,
reading and hearing the word ? Are you not among
the number of forgetful hearers, rather than the
doers of the word ; and do you not hope, by your
religious duties, to atone for your moral deficien
cies ? Are you not hard and unmerciful in your
dealings ; peevish, fretful and morose in your fam
ilies, or indolent in performing the proper duties of
the station in which you are placed ? Are you not

120 BIEN TRIED,
harsh and severe in censuring the conduct, or con
demning the character of your neighbors ? Above
all, are you not deficient in the great duty of liber
ality to the poor, and of doing to others, as you
would wish that they should do to you ? If so, vain
are all your religious duties ; vain your pretensions
of love to God. In vain do you pretend to obey
the commands of the first table, while you neglect
those of the second ; for piety, without morality,
is even worse than morality without piety. You
will be found guilty of wanting love to man ; and,
consequently, of being destitute of all true love to
God, whatever you may pretend ; for, says the
apostle, he that loveth not his brother, whom he
hath seen, how can he love God, whom he hath
not seen ? And again, whoso hath this world's
goods, and seeth his brother have need, and shut-
teth up his bowels of compassion from him, how
dwelleth the love of God in him ? And again, if
any man among you seem to be religious, and bri-
dleth not his tongue but deceiveth his own heart,
that man's religion is vain.
V. Perhaps some may be found, who will say,
notwithstanding these observations, still our hope
remains unshaken ; for we have both piety and
morality. We not only deal justly and love mer
cy, as it respects our fellow creatures, but also
walk humbly with our God. We do not make the
performance of our duties to men an excuse for
neglecting our duties to God; nor, on the other
hand, do we consider the discharging of our duty

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 121
to God as an excuse for neglecting our duties to
men ; but we carefully attend to both. We keep
up the worship of God in our families and closets ;
we bring up our children in the nurture and admo
nition of the Lord ; we reverence the sabbath and
other institutions of religion, and diligently attend
to the word read and preached. In addition to
this, we are sober, moral, and exemplary in our
conduct ; careful to promote the welfare and hap
piness of our families, and kind to the poor, the
sick and distressed. In what respect, then, can
we be said to be wanting ?
I answer, if you have nothing more than this,
you want many things.
You want that new heart, without which no man
can see the kingdom of God. You want that faith,
without which you must be condemned. You
want that repentance, without which you must in
evitably perish. You want that holiness, without
which no man shall see the Lord. All these things
are every where represented as indispensably ne
cessary to salvation ; and yet persons may do eve
ry thing which you profess to have done, without
either regeneration, faith, repentance or holiness.
You can plead nothing more than the pharisee, who
went up to the temple, could plead. He discharg
ed his duties to men no less faithfully than you pro
fess to have done ; for he was not unjust, nor an ex
tortioner, nor an adulterer ; and he gave the tenth
part of his goods to the poor. In addition to this,
he also attended to the duties, which he owed to
16

122 MEN TRIED,
God. He went to the temple, he prayed, he
thanked God, and fasted twice in a week. Yet
he was found wanting, and sent away empty. So
the young ruler could say respecting the command
ments, all these have I kept from my youth up ;
and St. Paul tells us, that before his conversion, as
touching the righteousness of the law, he was
blameless. Yet he afterwards counted all his im
aginary righteousness as loss for Christ. But you
will, perhaps, ask, if an unregenerate, impenitent
sinner can do all these things, what need is there
of regeneration and repentance ? As well may you
ask, if an enemy can perform all the outward acts
and services of a friend, what need is there of any
real friendship ? Would you be satisfied with your
children, if they served and obeyed you merely
from a selfish fear of punishment, or hope of re
ward ? Would you be pleased with any of their at
tempts to promote your happiness, if you knew
that a wish to obtain a portion of your estates was
the only motive and governing principle of their
conduct ? But the slightest self-examination must
convince those of you, whom we are now address
ing, that you are actuated merely by selfish mo
tives in all the religious and moral duties which
you perform. You are not sweetly drawn by the
gentle, but powerful influence of love, to obey
your Father in heaven. You do not serve him
merely for the pleasure of serving him. You serve
him as a master, and not as a father. You are
actuated either by fear of his displeasure, by a

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 123
desire of obtaining a share of the heavenly inheri
tance, or a wish to be freed from a burden of guilt
which oppresses you. Self-interest, therefore, is
really the god, whom you worship ; you serve
yourselves and not God, in all that you do ; and,
therefore, your services are all sins ; they are an
abomination in his sight ; because you want that
principle of supreme love to God, which is found
only in the renewed soul, and without which it is
impossible to please him in the smallest degree.
They, who want this, want every thing.
But though we should not insist upon this,
though we should allow that all your duties were
performed with proper views and motives ; yet,
still, you would be found wanting. You would be
found wanting with respect to the improvement of
your time ; for how much of this is misspent.
How much is daily wasted in unnecessary sleep, in
idle conversation, in foolish or useless pursuits, and
in unproductive idleness. You would be found
wanting in the government of your thoughts ; for
what an innumerable multitude of vain, trifling and
sinful imaginations pass through your minds in the
course of a single day ? If your fellow creatures
were acquainted with every thing that passes in
your breasts, would they not consider you as want
ing wisdom and goodness? How then must you
appear in the sight of God ? You would be found
wanting in the government of your tongues ; for
how many foolish, vain, unprofitable words escape
from your lips in the course of a day. Yet says

124 MEN TRIED,
our Saviour, for every idle word that men speak,
they shall give account in the day of judgment.
In a word, you would be found wanting in every
respect ; for the law of God requires perfect obe
dience, in thought, word and deed, and pronounces
a curse on every one, who does not thus obey it.
It requires that all your time, all your talents, all
your possessions, all your thoughts and all your af
fections should be sincerely consecrated and devo
ted to God ; that whether you eat, or drink, or
whatever you do, should be done to his glory. It
is in vain to pretend, that you obey this law more
frequently than you transgress it ; that your good
actions are more numerous than your sins. As
well might a thief or a murderer say, I have obey
ed the laws of my country for many years, and
have only broken them in a few instances, and
therefore I ought to be forgiven, since my good
actions are more numerous than my crimes. Eve
ry one must, at once, be sensible of the folly of
this plea. Every one must be sensible, that all
laws, human and divine, do, and ought to, require
perfect obedience, and to punish every wilful trans
gression ; and that it would be the height of ab
surdity to make a law which allowed persons to
disobey its precepts. If the law of God allows
men to sin in the smallest degree, then God has
become the patron and protector of sin, and is no
longer perfectly holy, just and true. But the law
of God does not allow men to sin in the smallest
degree. It considers him, who offends in one

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 125
point, as guilty of all, and condemns him accor
dingly. It considers imperfect obedience as no
obedience; and therefore every one, who has at
any time transgressed in thought, word, or deed :
every one, who cannot produce a perfect right
eousness, will be found wanting, when weighed in
this impartial balance.
But you will say, if this be the case, then all
will be found wanting ; for the scriptures assure us,
that there is not a just man on earth, who doeth
good and sinneth not. True, my friends, by the
law of God we are all found wanting. We have
all sinned, and the whole world has become guilty
before God. We are all children of wrath, and
are already under condemnation. Do you ask,
who then will be saved ? who will not be found
wanting ? I answer, those and those only, who can
bring and place in the balance the righteousness of
the Lord Jesus Christ. This is a perfect right
eousness, without spot or blemish. He perfectly
obeyed the whole law. He loved God with all his
heart, and his neighbor as himself ; and he is de
clared to be the end of the law for righteousness
to every one that believeth. That is, he fulfils, or
Obeys the law in their behalf. Believers are unit
ed to Christ by faith in such a manner, that they
are one with him in the sight of God, and what he
has done is considered as having been done by
them ; and hence they are said to be complete, or
perfect in him, and he is made of God unto them,
wisdom, righteousness* sanctification and redernp-

126 MEN TRIED,
tion. Hence, believers, though they have neither
wisdom, strength, nor righteousness of their own,
are wise in Christ's wisdom, strong in his strength,
and righteous in his righteousness; and, therefore,
when weighed in the balance they <ehall not be
found wanting. There is no condemnation to
them, that are iir Christ Jesus. But all, who are
not united to Christ by faith, will be found want
ing ; all their righteousness will be proved light as
nothing and vanity, and they will share in the
doom of impious Belshazzar.
But here an important question arises : How
may an interest in the righteousness of Christ be
obtained ? I answer, — it cannot be purchased, for
it is infinitely above all price, nor will he sell his
favors. It cannot be merited ; for the best merit
nothing, but destruction. It must come as a free
gift. But to whom will it be given ? I answer, it
is freely and unconditionally offered to all, who
will accept it by faith. None, however, will ever
accept it but those, who see that they have no
righteousness of their own to plead. None will
accept it but those, who are truly convinced, that
they have never performed a good action, uttered
a good word, or exercised one good affection.
Hence our Saviour informs us, that publicans and
harlots, the very refuse of society, will sooner en
ter the kingdom of heaven, than those, who, like
the pharisees, trust in themselves that they are
righteous. Hence also we find that the promises
of the gospel are ever made to the poor in spirit,

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 127
to the self-condemned sinner, to the mourners for
sin, and to the penitent and contrite heart. Such
characters see and feel that they have nothing of
their own to plead ; nothing which they dare place
in the balancS. They see, as did the apostle, that
in them there dwells no good thing ; they see that
they are wholly unworthy of God's favor, and de
serve nothing but death at his hands ; they see
that, if they ever are saved, they must be saved by
free, sovereign grace. Hence they are willing to
throw themselves at Christ's feet, and resign them
selves entirely to his disposal. They are willing to
receive him by faith, as he is freely offered in the
gospel, and to depend on his righteousness, atone
ment, and intercession alone for salvation. But
never will the self-righteous sinner do this ; never
will he submit to be saved in this humbling way.
He may indeed be willing that Christ should sup
ply the deficiences of his own imaginary right
eousness, and atone for the few trifling sins which
he has committed ; but he is resolved to have at
least part of the glory of his salvation ; he will not
depend on Christ alone ; and therefore in reality
does not depend upon him at all, nor will he re
ceive any benefit from him ; for our Saviour will
have no partners in,this work. He will save us
alone, or leave us to perish. He will have all the
glory, or we' never shall join in the song of the re
deemed. Thus have I endeavored, in a plain, simple, una
dorned manner, to set before you the sentence

128 MEN TRIED,
which you have reason to expect at the judgment
day, and the manner in which you may escape the
fate of those, who will be weighed in the balance
and be found wanting. I have avoided every
thing which might tend only to amuse, or to ren
der the subject obscure, and have only sought to
render it intelligible to persons of every descrip
tion. And now permit me to ask, what is the re
sult ? Will you go to the judgment seat in your
own righteousness, or in that of Christ ? If you
are still determined to depend on yourselves, or on
the mercy of God out of Christ, I cannot help it.
I would only remind you of what God has said ;
Cursed be the man, that trusteth in man, and maketh
flesh his arm, and whose heart departeth from the
Lord. Behold, all ye, that kindle a fire, that com
pass yourselves about with sparks, walk in the
light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have
kindled ; this shall ye have at my hand ; ye shall
lie down in sorrow. But if there are any of you,
who begin to fear, that you shall be found wanting
on that awful occasion ; any, who feel that they
are poor, and miserable, and wretched, and blind,
and naked, let them comply with the gracious
counsel and invitation of Christ, and receive of
him, a complete and perfect righteousness, without
money and without price. He requires of you no
other worthiness than a heart felt conviction, that
you are utterly unworthy. He requires no other
goodness, than a sincere acknowledgment, that you
have in you no good thing. He requires nothing

AND FOUND DEFECTIVE. 129
else of you, in order to salvation, but a readiness
to be saved in his own way and upon his own
terms. Be not then discouraged to find that you
are the chief of sinners ; that you have no good
ness, no worthiness, no righteousness of your
own to plead. Did you possess any of these, he
would not receive you ; for he came to save, not
the worthy, but the unworthy ; not the righteous,
but the sinful ; not those, who feel able to save
themselves, but those, who feel utterly lost and un
done without him. So long as you imagine, that
you have any good qualities to recommend you to
his favor, you are separated from him by an im
passable gulf; for sooner may a camel pass
through the eye of a needle, than one who is rich
in his own opinion enter the kingdom of God,

17

130 OUR SINS INFINITE
SERMON VII.
OUR SINS INFINITE IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY.
JOB XXII. 5.
IS NOT THY WICKEDNESS GREAT ? AND THINE INIQUITIES INFINITE ?
This question was addressed by Eliphaz to Job.
He was led to ask it by a suspicion, that Job was
a hypocrite. He had imbibed the erroneous opin
ion, that great temporal calamities are inflicted on
none, except the wicked. Hence he inferred from
the unprecedented afflictions of Job, that, notwith
standing all his professions and fair appearances of
piety, he was a wicked man. He therefore endea
vored to convince him that this was his character,
and that he had been deceived respecting himself.
With this view he addressed him in the language
of our text : Is not thy wickedness great ? and
thine iniquities infinite ? Had Job really been
what Eliphaz erroneously supposed him to be, this
would have been a very proper question, and the
charge, which it implies, would have been strictly
just. It is, therefore, still a proper question to be
proposed to all, who are ignorant of themselves.
Indeed, it may, without impropriety, be addressed
to every child of Adam ; since there is not an in
dividual among them, who, if he answer it truly,
must not answer it in the affirmative. To estab
lish this truth — that the sins of men are infinite in
number and enormity — is my present design.

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 131
In prosecuting this design it becomes necessary
to show, as clearly as possible, what meaning is
attached to the terms, sin, and wickedness, in the
Word of God : I say, in the Word of God ; for it
is too evident to require proof, that, by these terms,
men usually mean something very different from
what is meant by the inspired writers., The word,
sin, for instance, is considered by many as synony
mous with crime ; and by crime they mean the
violation of some human law, or of the common
rules of morality and honesty. Hence they con
clude, that, if a man obeys the laws of his coun
try, and lives a sober, moral life, he has few, if
any, sins to answer for. A similar meaning they
attach to the term, wicked. By a wicked man,
they suppose, is intended, a man openly and gross
ly immoral, impious, or profane ; one who treats
religion with avowed disrespect, or who denies the
divine authority of revelation. But very different
is the meaning, which the inspired writers attach
to these terms. By wicked men, they mean all
who are not righteous ; all, who do not repent and
believe the gospel, however correct their external
conduct may be ; and, by sin, they mean a viola
tion of the divine law, which requires us to love
God with all our hearts, and our neighbor as our
selves ; for, says the apostle, sin is a transgression
of, or a deviation from, the law. This law branch
es out into various and numerous precepts, pre
scribing, with great minuteness, our duties towards
all the beings, with whom we are connected, and

132 OUR SINS INFINITE
the dispositions, which are to be exercised in every
situation and relation of life ; and the violation and
disregard of any of these precepts, is a sin. The
gospel, also, has its precepts, as well as the law.
It requires repentance, faith and obedience ; and
neglecting to obey these precepts, is represented as
sinful in the highest degree. In a word, when we
do not perfectly obey all God's commands, in feel
ing, thought, word, and action, we sin. When we
do not feel, and think, and speak, and act, as he
requires, we are guilty of what are denominated sins
of omission. When we feel, think, or speak, or
act, in such a manner as he forbids, we are guilty
of the sin of commission. These general remarks
will be sufficient to convince every one, who knows
any thing of God, of himself, or of the divine law,
that his sins are exceedingly numerous. But since
most men are unacquainted with all these subjects,
and, especially, with the nature, strictness, and ex
tent of God's law, it will be necessary, in order to
produce conviction, to be more particular. And
since the heart is represented as the fountain,
whence all evil flows ; the tree which gives its own
character to all the fruit produced by it, let us be
gin with that, and consider,
1. The sin of our hearts; or, in other words, of
our dispositions and feelings. The sins of this
class alone, of which the best man on earth is
guilty, are innumerable. They form by far the
heaviest part of the charge, which will be brought
against every impenitent sinner at the judgment

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 133
day. Yet most men think nothing of them. They
seem to imagine, that, if the outside be clean, the
feelings and dispositions of the heart are of little
consequence. But God thinks very differently ;
and a moment's reflection will convince us, that a
being, who commits no outward sins, may, not
withstanding, be the chief of sinners. Such, for
instance, are the evil spirits. None will deny, that
they are sinful in the highest degree. But they
have no hands, to act ; no tongue, to speak. All
their sins are inward sins; sins of the heart.
It is obvious then, that persons may be the great
est sinners in the universe, without being guilty of
one outward sin. The law of God, and the gos
pel of Christ, teach the same truth. What they
principally require, is right feelings and disposi
tions. What they chiefly forbid and condemn, is,
feelings and dispositions, that are wrong. For in
stance, love is an affection ; repentance is an af
fection ; faith is a feeling ; humility, a feeling ;
hope, patience, resignation, and contentment, are
feelings. Yet all these are required of us as in
dispensable duties. On the other hand, unbelief
is a feeling ; selfishness, impenitence, pride, love
of the world, covetousness, envy, anger, hatred,
and revenge, are feelings. Yet all these things are
forbidden as the worst of sins ; sins, for which
those, who indulge them, will be condemned. It
is evident then, that, if we wish to know the num
ber of our sins, we must look first, and chiefly, at
the feelings and dispositions of our hearts. And

134 . OUR SINS INFINITE
if we do thus look at them, we shall be convinced,
in a moment, that our sins are numberless. Every
moment of our waking existence, in which we do
not love God with all our hearts, we sin ; for this
constant and perfect love to God his law requires.
Every moment, in which we do not love our neigh
bor as ourselves, we sin ; for this also we are com
manded to do. Every moment, in which we do
not exercise repentance, we sin ; for repentance is
one of the first duties required of us. Every mo
ment, in which we do not exercise faith in Christ,
we sin ; for the constant exercise of faith the gos
pel everywhere requires. When we do not set our
affections on things above, we sin ; for on these
we are required to place them. When we are not
constantly influenced by the fear of God, we sin ;
for we are commanded to be in the fear of the
Lord all the day long. When we do not rejoice
in God, we sin ; for the precept is, Rejoice in the
Lord always. When we are not properly affected
by the contents of God's word, we sin ; for this
want of feeling indicates hardness of heart, one of
the worst of sins. When we do not forgive and
love our enemies, we sin ; for this Christ requires
of us. In a word, whenever our hearts are not in
a perfectly holy frame, we are sinning ; for God's
language is, Be ye holy, for I am holy ; be perfect,
as your Father in heaven is perfect. And if we
thus sin, when we do not exercise right feelings,
much more do we sin, when we exercise those, that
are wrong. When we are dissatisfied with any part

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 135
of God's word, or with any of his providential dis
pensations ; when we feel a disposition to mur
mur at our situation, at our disappointments and
afflictions, at the weather, or the seasons, we sin ;
for these are the heart risings of rebellion against
God, and they render it impossible for us to say
sincerely, Thy will be done. When we hate any
one, we sin ; for he, that hateth his brother, is a
murderer. When we feel a revengeful, or unfor
giving temper, we sin ; for if we forgive not our
enemies, God will not forgive us. When we se
cretly rejoice in the calamities of others, we sin ;
for he, that is glad at calamities, shall not go un
punished ; and God is said to be displeased with
those, who rejoice when their enemy falls. When
we envy such as are above us, we sin ; for envy-
ings are mentioned among the sinful works of the
flesh. When we covet any thing, that is our neigh
bor's, we sin ; for this is expressly forbidden by the
tenth commandment. When we love the world, we
sin ; for if any man love the world, the love of the
Father is not in him. — But I forbear to enlarge ;
for who, that knows any thing of himself, will de
ny, that the wickedness of his heart is great, and
its iniquities numberless ?
2. Let us, in the next place, consider the sin
fulness of our thoughts. The thoughts are the off
spring of the mind, as the feelings are of the heart ;
and that they may be sinful, the scriptures plainly
teach. The wise man declares foolish thoughts to
be sinful Our Saviour classes evil thoughts with

136 OUR SINS INFINITE
thefts, murders, and adulteries. O Jerusalem, says
Jehovah, wash thy heart from wickedness, that thou
mayest be saved. How long shall vain thoughts
lodge within thee ? Let the unrighteous man for
sake his thoughts. The thoughts of the wicked are
an abomination. Hear, O earth, I will bring evil
upon this people, even the fruit of their thoughts.
Even men's characters are determined by their
thoughts and purposes ; for as a man thinketh in
his heart, so is he. These passages are more than
sufficient to prove, that there may be much sin
committed in thought. And if vain, foolish thoughts
are sinful, who, who, my hearers, can enumerate
his sins ? Who can even number the sins of this
kind, of which he is guilty in a single day ? And
many of these thoughts are rendered peculiarly
sinful by being indulged in the house of God, du
ring the hours set apart for devotion, when, if ev
er, the mind ought to be solemn and collected.
But it is here impossible to descend to particulars.
We must leaVe every one to reflect, as he pleases,
on the atheistical thoughts, the impious and pro
fane thoughts, the impure, covetous, vain, foolish,
and absurd thoughts, which have passed through
his mind, and been entertained there. And while
you reflect on this, remember, that thoughts are
the language of disembodied spirits ; that thoughts
are words in the ear of God ; and that our guilt,
in his sight, is no less great than if we had actually
given utterance to every thought, which has lodg
ed in our minds. Agreeably, we find our Saviour

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 137
answering the thoughts of those around him, just as
he would if they had expressed them in words ; and,
in many passages, God charges sinners with saying,
what, it appears, they only thought. In the ear of
Jehovah, then, our thoughts have a tongue ; and
what he hears them say, we may learn from the
inspired declaration. Every imagination of the
thoughts of man's heart is evil continually. And
surely, no man, who believes this declaration, none,
who believes, that thoughts are words in the ear of
Jehovah, can doubt that his wickedness is great,
and his iniquities numberless.
3. From sins of thought, let us, next, proceed
to those of the tongue. From what has been said
of our feelings and thoughts, it is evident, that this
class of sins also must be exceedingly numerous ;
for it is out of the abundance of the heart, that the
mouth speaketh. If then sin prevails in the heart,
it will flow put through the lips. That it does so,
is but too obvious. Not to insist on the falsehoods,
the slanders, the profane, impious, and indecent ex
pressions, which are daily uttered by many persons,
it may be sufficient to remind you, that of every
idle word, which men speak, they shall give ac
count in the day of judgment. Every idle word
then is a sin. But what are idle words ? I answer,
all that are not necessary, and which do not tend
to produce good effects. God's precepts are, L&t
no corrupt communication proceed out of your
mouth ; but that which is good to the use of edify
ing. Let your speech be always with grace, that
18

138 OUR SINS INFINITE
it may minister grace unto the hearers. Let not
foolish talking or jesting, which are not becoming,
be once named among you ; but rather giving of
thanks. These rules, perhaps, will be considered
by some as too strict ; but, my friends, they are the
rules, which God prescribes in his word ; they are
the rules, by which we must be tried hereafter.
And every word, which does not comport with
them, is an idle word ; and, consequently, sinful.
How innumerable, then, are the sins of the tongue !
How large a portion of all the words, which we ut
ter, are, at best, but idle words, to say nothing of
those which are obviously sinful ! Well might the
wise man say, that in the multitude of words there
wanteth not sin. I shall only add, that whenever
we speak of others as we should not wish them to
speak of us, we sin against the law of love, and vi
olate our Saviour's golden rule, Whatsoever ye
would that men should do unto you, do ye even the
same to them. Happy is the man, who can truly
say, that, in this respect alone, his transgressions
are not numberless.
4. Let us now consider our sinful actions. And
here, my friends, we shall not speak of what the
world call sins. We shall say nothing of thefts,
frauds, injuries, intemperance, and debauchery. If
there are any among my hearers, who are not free
from these gross enormities, I must leave the task
of reproving them to their own consciences. Our
concern is principally with those sinful actions,
which are by most men thought innocent ; and for

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 139
which, therefore, conscience seldorn, if ever, re
proves them. To begin with what have been call
ed sins of omission : Withhold not good from him,
to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine
hand to do it. For to him, that knoweth to do
good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin. From these
passages it appears, that, whenever men have an
opportunity to do good, either to the bodies or
souls of men, or of doing any good work for the
glory of God, and neglect to improve it, they sin.
Of how many sins, then, are we guilty ! How ma
ny thousands of opportunities for doing good have
we suffered to pass unimproved ! How much good
has been done by many of our fellow creatures,
with no greater means, than we have enjoyed ! Is
not the charge, which was brought against the
proud king of Babylon, applicable to many of us ?
We have failed to glorify the God, in whose hand
our breath is. Prayer and praise glorify God. But
these duties we have all neglected during a consid
erable part of our lives ; and many of us are still
neglecting them. We are commanded, whether we
eat, or drink, or whatever we do, to do all to the
glory of God. These precepts apply to our words,
as well as to our actions ; and they prove, that ev
ery word, which we have not spoken, every action,
which we have not performed, with a view to pro
mote the glory of God, and in the name of the
Lord Jesus Christ, is a sin. Hence it follows, that
all the words and actions of unrenewed men are
sinful ; for they never do any thing, either to the

140 OUR SINS INFINITE
glory of God, or in the name of Christ. Agreea
bly, we are told, that the ploughing of the wicked
is sin; that the prayer, and the sacrifice of the
wicked, are an abomination ; and that they, who
are in the flesh, that is, in an impenitent; uncon
verted state, cannot please God ; for without faith
it is impossible to please him. We do not mean,
that all the words and actions of unrenewed men
are outwardly wrong, or sinful ; but they all pro
ceed from wrong motives, and are not accompa
nied by right feelings ; they are not performed with
that temper and disposition, which God requires,
and are, therefore, sinful by defect. They are like
a body without a soul ; the heart, at which God
principally looks, and which he requires, is unholy ;
and, therefore, the actions are the same. This is
the import of our Saviour's comparison ; the tree
is corrupt, and, therefore, the fruit is not good ; for
a corrupt tree cannot bring forth good fruit. To
bring all that need be said on this subject to a
point ; — every feeling, thought, word, and action,
which is not, in all respects, as it ought to be, or
as God requires it to be, is sinful : but no feeling,
thought, word, or action of an impenitent sinner,
is, in all respects, what God requires it to be;
therefore, every feeling, thought, word, and ac
tion of a sinner is sinful. If then men's feelings,
thoughts, words, actions, are numberless, so are
their sins.
I am aware, my hearers, that this conclusion will
startle, and, perhaps, offend some of you ; but if

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 141
we follow the scriptures, I see not that we can come
to a different conclusion. I only ask to be judged,
or rather ask you to judge yourselves, by this rule.
If you can prove, by fair appeal to scripture, that
any part of your temper and conduct has been per
fectly right, perfectly agreeable to God's law, I will
acknowledge, that my conclusion is wrong. I will
only add, that the scriptures assert, in plain terms,
that the thoughts of the wicked are an abomination
to the Lord, that the way of the wicked is an abo
mination to him; that every work of their hands,
and all they offer, is unclean. If we believe these
assertions, we must acknowledge, that our wicked
ness is great, and our iniquities infinite, — absolute
ly numberless.
II. It is further necessary to show, that our sins
are infinite, not only in number, but. in criminality ;
that every sin is, in fact, infinitely evil, and deserv
ing of infinite punishment. It is so,
1. Because it is committed against an infinite
being, against God, a being infinitely powerful,
wise, holy, just and good. The criminality of any
offence is in proportion to the excellence and great
ness of the person, against whom it is committed.
For instance, it is wrong for a child to strike his
brother. Should the same child strike his father,
it would be incomparably more so. Were his fa
ther a king, possessed of every good quality, the
act would be still more criminal. But God is our
heavenly Father, the universal King, infinitely ex
alted above every human parent, above every

142 OUR SINS INFINITE
earthly monarch ; possessed, in an infinite degree,
of every perfection, which can entitle him to the
perfect love, confidence, and obedience of his crea
tures. He is also the author and preserver of the
very powers and faculties, which we employ in sin
ning against him, and he has conferred on us in
numerable favors. Of course, we are under infi
nite obligations to love and obey him ; and, there
fore, to violate these obligations, and sin against
such a being, must be an infinite evil.
Again — that every sin is infinitely evil and crimi
nal, is evident from the fact, that it is a violation
of an infinitely perfect law. It will readily be al
lowed, that, to violate a good law, is a greater evil,
than to violate a law, the goodness of which is
doubtful. It will also be allowed, that, if there
were any law made by human governments, on
obedience to which the honor, the welfare, and
even the existence of a nation depended, — to vio
late that law, would be the greatest crime, which a
subject could commit. Now the law of God is
perfectly holy, just, and good. If it were univer
sally obeyed, universal and endless happiness would
be the consequence. But disobedience to this law
tends to produce universal and endless misery.
Take away the law and the authority of God ;
there would be no right, but that of the strongest ;
violence, discord, and confusion would fill the uni
verse ; sin and misery would overspread the earth,
would ascend to heaven, subvert the throne of Je
hovah, and compel him to live in the midst of a

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 143
mad, infuriated mob, the members of which were
continually insulting him, and injuring each other.
Now every violation of God's law tends to produce
this effect.
Farther — every sin is an infinite evil, because it
tends to produce infinite mischief. Let us trace
this tendency. Suppose all the universe to be holy
and happy. A thought or feeling tending to pro
duce sin, rises in the breast of some one creature.
This thought or feeling is indulged. It gains
strength by indulgence ; gradually extends its in
fluence over the faculties of the mind, enslaves the
whole man, and prompts him to disobey God. Now
did it proceed no further, it would still be an infi
nite evil, for it has depraved and ruined an immor
tal being, a being, who, but for sin, would have
been eternally happy ; but who must, in conse
quence of sin, be forever miserable. But it will
not stop there. The being thus ruined by sin, will
become a tempter, and seduce his fellow beings,
and they, in turn, will tempt others ; and, unless
God prevent, the infection will spread through the
created universe, transforming holy beings into de
vils, and all worlds into hell ! Such, my hearers,
is the tendency of sin. Do any deny it ? We ap
peal to facts. The whole universe was once holy
and happy. A thought or feeling tending to pro
duce sin, rose in the breast of Satan. He indulg
ed it, and it ruined him. It transformed him from
an archangel into a devil. He tempted other an
gels, and they became devils. He tempted our

144 OUR SINS INFINITE
first parents ; they complied, sinned, and became
the parents of a sinful race. Thus all the sin and
all the misery in the universe, all on earth and all
in hell, may be traced back to one sinful thought
or feeling entertained, at first, in a single breast ;
and this sin and misery would be far greater than
they are, were it not for the restraining power and
grace of God. Such, then, is the tendency of sin,
of every sin ; and such effects it would produce,
did not God prevent. A sinful thought, or feeling,
is like a spark of fire. It seems but a little thing,
and is easily extinguished ; but it has a tendency
to consume and destroy ; and let it have room and
opportunity to exert itself; let it be fed by com
bustible materials, and fanned by the winds, and it
would destroy every thing destructible in the uni
verse. Similar is the tendency of sin ; and who,
then, will say, that it is not an infinite evil ?
Sins derive an infinite malignity from being com
mitted in defiance of motives and obligations in
finitely strong. It is evident, that the criminality
of any sin is in proportion to the motives and obli
gations, which opposed its commission. To sin
against many and powerful motives, indicates
greater depravity, and is, of course, more criminal
than to sin against few and feeble motives. Sup
pose a person is informed, that, if he commits a
certain crime, he shall be imprisoned. If, not
withstanding the threatening, he perpetrates the
crime, he shows that he loves the crime more than
he loves liberty. Again, suppose him to be as-

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 145
sured, that, if he commits the crime, he shall be
put to death. Should he, after that, commit the
crime, it would indicate greater depravity than be
fore. It would show, that he loved the crime more
than life. But the word of God threatens sinners
with everlasting misery, if they persist in sin;
and promises them everlasting happiness, if they
will renounce it. I need not tell you, that, what is
everlasting, is in one respect infinite, viz. in dura
tion. Here, then, are two infinitely powerful mo
tives presented to the sinner, to deter him from
sin — infinite happiness, and infinite misery. Every
one then, who persists in sin, notwithstanding these
motives, shows, that he loves sin more than ever
lasting happiness ; that he hates holiness more than
he dreads everlasting misery. His attachment to
sin, and, of course, his depravity and criminality,
are therefore boundless, or infinite. From all, that
has been said, it appears that our sins are number
less, and that every one of our sins is infinitely evil
or criminal. Every one, then, who answers the
question in our text with truth, must answer it in
the affirmative. INFERENCES.
1. If our sins are thus infinite in number and
criminality, then, of course, they deserve an infi
nite, or everlasting punishment ; such a punish
ment, as God threatens in his word. There is
scarcely any truth, which men are more disposed
to deny, than this. They contend, that it cannot
19

146 OUR SINS INFINITE
be just for God to punish sins committed during
the short period of our residence on earth, with
everlasting misery. But let us examine this objec
tion. Do you not all acknowledge, that a murder
er may justly be put to death? Yet he might not
have been employed more than a single moment in
committing that murder. The fact is, in other cas
es we never think of inquiring how much time was
spent in the commission of any crime. We con
sider only the nature and magnitude of the crime,
and its effects upon society. If the crime is great,
and its effects highly pernicious, we conclude, at
once, that it deserves a severe punishment. Now
we have shown, that sin is an infinite evil ; that the
effects, which it tends to produce, are infinitely
mischievous. Of course, it deserves an infinite
punishment. And permit me to add, that com
plaints of the severity of this punishment come
with a very ill grace from impenitent sinners ; for
they will persist in sin, notwithstanding this punish
ment. It sterns then, that, instead of being too
severe, it is not sufficiently severe to deter them
from sin. If men will now violate God's laws,
what would they do, had he annexed to their vio
lation only a temporary punishment ?
2. If sin deserves an infinite punishment, then it
is perfectly right, that God should inflict such a
punishment upon sinners. It is no impeachment
of his character, no reflection upon his goodness,
to say, that he will inflict it. This evidently fol
lows as a necessary consequence from what has

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 147
been said ; for justice consists in treating every one
as he deserves to be treated ; and if sinners de
serve an endless punishment, then it is perfectly
just and right for God to inflict such a punishment
upon them.
3. If it is just, that God should inflict such a pun
ishment upon impenitent sinners, then he must in
flict it ; he is bound by the strongest obligations to
inflict it, for he must do what is just and right. And
if it is just and right thus to punish impenitent sin
ners, then it cannot be just and right not to do it.
To spare them, would not be treating, them as they
deserve, and justice consists in treating them ac
cording to their deserts. In a word, it is as much
an act of injustice to spare the guilty, as it would
be to condemn the innocent. This God himself
teaches us in his word. He that justifieth the
wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they
both are an abomination to the Lord. And will
the just God do that, which he declares to be an
abontlnation in his sight ? The Judge of all the
earth must do right.
4. Hence we see why the atonement made by
Christ was necessary. Men had all sinned. Their
wickedness was great, and their transgressions in
finite. Hence they deserved an endless punish
ment ; and God was obliged, in justice, to inflict
on them such a punishment, unless some sufficient
atonement could be made. As sin, and the pun
ishment due to sin, were infinite ; no atonement,
which was not infinite in value, could suffice. And

148 OUR SINS INFINITE
where could such an atonement be found ? Men
could not make it ; for they were already under
sentence of death, and had forfeited every thing
which they possessed. Yet the atonement must
be made by a man ; because it was for the benefit
of men. The language of the law was, man has
sinned, and man must die. In this exigency, the
Eternal Word, the Son of God, interposed. He .
consented to become man, to bear the sins of men,
or, in other words, the punishment, which their sins
deserved ; to stand as the representative of sinners,
and suffer the curse of the law in their stead. This
he has done. He has thus magnified the law, and
made it honorable. He deserves some reward for
this wonderful act of benevolence and obedience.
A just God is as much bound to reward him, as he
is to punish the wicked. But what reward shall he
give him ? He needs nothing for himself. But there
is a reward infinitely valuable in his estimation, in
finitely dear to his benevolent heart. It is the par
don and salvation of his people, of every sinner,
who confides in his merits and intercession, and
submits to be reconciled, through him, to God.
This reward was promised him. This reward is
given him. God can now be just, and yet the jus-
tifier of him that believeth in Jesus. None, how
ever, will believe in Jesus, none will apply to him
for salvation, but those, who see and feel, that their
wickedness is great, and their iniquities infinite.
You may see therefore, my friends, why it is, that
I have led your attention to this subject. It is not

IN NUMBER AND ENORMITY. 149
because I love to dwell upon it. It is not because
I, a miserable sinner, take pleasure in accusing and
condemning my fellow sinners. But it is because
I, a pardoned sinner, a sinner washed from num
berless and infinite offences in the atoning blood of
Jesus, wish to bring my fellow sinners to that pre
cious fountain, of which I know the efficacy. It is
because, as a messenger of the Lord of hosts, I am
commanded to cry aloud, and show to the people
their transgressions and their sins : and because I
am also directed to preach to you the unsearcha
ble riches of Christ. You may easily conceive how
precious the Saviour would appear to you, did you
feel burdened with the weight - of all the sins, with
which you are here charged. My friends — peni
tent sinners, true Christians, do feel thus burden
ed ; they feel that their wickedness is great, and
their iniquities numberless. This it is, which leads
them to adopt such expressions, as you hear them
use in prayer ; expressions, which have been used
by all the pious before. It is this, which leads them
to complain, that they are the chief of sinners, and
to cry out with the apostle, O, wretched man, that
I am ! Who shall deliver me from the body of this
death ? Could you feel thus, how would you re
joice to hear of a Saviour ! How eagerly fly to his
atoning blood ! And are there none, who feel thus ?
none, whose sins God has set in order before their
eyes ? none, who are ready to cry out, My sins
have gone over me as a heavy burden ; mine ini
quities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not

150 OUR SINS INFINITE, <fcc.
able to look up ; they are more in number than the
hairs of my head ; therefore my heart faileth me !
Fly, then, to the cross of Christ, in whom we have
redemption, through his blood, even the forgiveness
of our sins, according to the riches of his grace.

SERMOX VIII.
THE WICKED, FROM PRIDE, REFUSE TO SEEK GOD.
PSALOT X. 4.
THE WICKED, THROUGH THE PRIDE OF HIS COUNTENANCE, WILL NOT
SEEK AFTER GOD.
In this psalm we have a full length portrait of a
careless, unawakened sinner, drawn by the uner
ring pencil of truth ; and so perfect is the resem
blance, that, were it not for the blinding influence
of sin, every such sinner would discover in it, as
in a glass, his own image. Two of the features,
which compose this portrait, are delineated in our
text. The first is an unwillingness to seek after
God. The second is pride, which causes that un
willingness. The wicked, through the pride of his
countenance, will not seek after God. In discours
ing on this passage, we shall endeavor to show —
that the wicked will not seek after God — and that
it is the pride of their hearts, which prevents them
from seeking him. It will be understood, that, by
the wicked, we here intend careless, unawakened
sinners. I. The wicked will not seek after God. The
expression implies, not only that they do not seek
after him, but that they will not. It is the settled,
determined purpose of their hearts, not to seek
him ; and to this purpose they will obstinately and

152 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
unalterably adhere, unless their wills are subdued
by divine grace. With a view to illustrate and es
tablish this truth, we observe,
1 . That the wicked will not seek after the knowl
edge of God. This the scriptures plainly assert.
The wicked say unto God, Depart from us ; for we
desire not the knowledge of thy ways. It is also
evident from the experience of all ages, that no
careless, unawakened sinner, ever used any means,
or made the smallest endeavors to acquire a knowl
edge of God. Our Saviour explicitly declares, that,
all, who seek, shall find. But the wicked do not
find the knowledge of God ; therefore they never
seek it. They will not study the scriptures with a
view to become acquainted with God. It is true,
they sometimes read the scriptures ; but they read
them either in a formal, careless manner, or to
quiet the remonstrances of conscience, or to find
arguments in favor of some false system of relig
ion, which may encourage them in sinful pursuits,
and enable them to indulge delusive hopes of fu
ture happiness. They never look into the Bible
with a sincere desire to find God there ; nor study
it with that humble, docile, childlike temper, with
out which it will ever be studied in vain. And
while many thus read the scriptures with improper
views, or wrong feelings, many also, there is reason
to fear, scarcely read them at all. From week to
week, and from year to year, their Bibles lie on the
shelf unopened, while they know little more of their
contents than of the Koran of Mahomet.

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 153
The wicked will not pray for the knowledge of
God. It can never be said with truth of a wicked
man, behold he prayeth. On the contrary, he in
variably casts off fear, and restrains prayer before
God. He may, indeed, and, as we have already
seen, often does, request God to depart from him
and, like the evil spirits in our Saviour's time, he
may cry, I beseech thee, torment me not. But
never does he sincerely ask for divine instruction.
Never does he cry after knowledge, or lift up his
voice for understanding. If he did, he would in
fallibly obtain it ; for every one, that asketh, re-
ceiveth. Ye have not, says the apostle, because
ye ask not.
The wicked will not improve those opportuni
ties for acquiring the knowledge of God, which
our public and private religious institutions afford.
It is true that many of them attend frequently,
perhaps constantly, on the instructions of the sanc
tuary ; but it is equally true, that custom, curiosi
ty, a regard to reputation, Or a wish to pass away
the time, and not a desire for divine knowledge,
induces their attendance. That this is not an un
charitable supposition is apparent from their con
duct. Often, while the most solemn and impor
tant truths are proclaimed in their hearing, their
thoughts, like the fool's eyes, are in the ends of
the earth ; and they literally hear as though they
heard not. If at any time they listen more atten
tively to the preached word, it is not with a wish
to understand, believe and obey it. Their whole
20

154 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
aim in listening often appears to be, to find some
real, or apparent contradiction ; some plausible
excuse for disbelieving or neglecting what they
hear. They watch, as the prophet observes of the
Jews, to find some iniquity in the speaker. Their
minds are full of cavils and objections against the
truths delivered ; and, no sooner do they leave the
house of God, than they forget or banish all that
has been said ; or remember it only, that they may
pervert, misrepresent, and deny it, and thus harden
themselves and others* in ignorance and sin. Nor
is this all. Private religious conversation, and
meetings for this purpose, afford opportunities for
acquiring the knowledge of God, as favorable, and
in some respects, perhaps, more so, than the pub
lic instructions of the sanctuary. But these op
portunities the wicked will by no means improve.
Seldom, if ever, is the instance known of a care
less, unawakened sinner visiting a minister of
Christ for the purpose of religious conversation,
or attending a private religious meeting, unless it
were with some improper motive. They can read
ily and cheerfully attend meetings of a different
kind, and engage in conversation on subjects of
a different nature, but they avoid places and circles
in which religion will probably be introduced, as
they would shun a place infected by the plague.
We have no fear, that these assertions can, with
truth, be contradicted. Scripture, observation,
and experience unequivocally testify, that careless,

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 155
unawakened sinners will not seek after the knowl
edge of God.
2. The wicked will not seek after the favor of
God. Indeed, it is perfectly natural, that those,
who think the knowledge of God not worth pur
suing, should scarcely consider his favor as worth
seeking. Knowing nothing experimentally of his
excellence and perfections, and ignorant of their
entire dependance on him for happiness, they can
not, of course, realize, that the favor of God is
life, and his loving kindness better than life.
Hence they will not seek to obtain it, but prefer
almost every thing else to the divine favor ; arid
love the praise of men more than the praise of
God. The way to obtain and secure the favor of
God is as plainly marked out, and, at least, as easy
to be followed by those who are so disposed, as the
way to acquire any temporal blessing whatever.
God has stated in his word, with the greatest pos
sible clearness, both what will secure and what will
forfeit his favor ; both what will incur and what
will avert his displeasure. Yet all the wicked
daily practice those things, which are displeasing
to God, and entirely incompatible with the enjoy
ment of his favor ; while, on the contrary, they to
tally neglect to cultivate those dispositions and
perform those actions, which will secure his appro
bation: In fact, they think, they care, nothing
about it. How he shall avert God's displeasure,
or obtain his favor, is no part of an unawakened
sinner's inquiry or concern. He asks innumerable

156 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
other questions, many of which are in the highest
degree frivolous and useless ; , but never is he heard
to ask, what must I do to be saved ? He pursues
other objects, the most trifling objects too ; but nev
er is he seen engaged in the ardent pursuit of this.
He is exceedingly jealous of his own reputation,
and solicitous to acquire the- good opinion of his
fellow creatures, even of the meanest and most
worthless among them, while he proportionably
dreads their censures. But the wrath of him, in
whom he lives, and moves, and exists, who can in
a moment cut short his life, and destroy both soul
and body in hell, he does not fear ; nor does he
consider his highest approbation as a worthy ob
ject of desire or pursuit. In the language of in
spiration, the wicked cry out by reason of the arm
of the mighty ; but none saith, where is God, my
Maker, who giveth songs in the night ?
3. The wicked will not seek after the likeness
of God. That they do not at all resemble him,
is certain, if the scriptures are true. That they do
not wish or endeavor to resemble him, is equally
evident. There is, indeed, in their view, no reason,
why they should. There are but two motives,
which can induce any being to imitate another,
or to wish to resemble him. The first is a wish to
obtain the approbation of the person imitated.
The second is admiration of something in his char
acter, and a consequent desire to inscribe it into
our own. But the wicked can be influenced by
neither of these motives to seek after conformity

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 157
to God. They cannot be led to imitate him by a
wish to obtain his favor ; for this, as we have al
ready seen, they have no desire to obtain. Nor do
they discover any thing in his character, which they
wish to transcribe into their own ; for they have
no knowledge of God, no desire to know him, no
taste for the beauties of holiness. Christ, we are
told, is the image of the invisible God, the bright
ness of the Father's glory, and the express image
of his person. Yet they evidently, as the prophet
observes, discover in Christ no form or comeliness ;
and when they see him, he has in their eyes no
beauty, that they should desire to resemble him.
And as it is with Christ, the image of God, so, of
course, it must be with respect to God himself.
Since they have no wish to imitate the former ;
they cannot, they will not seek after conformity
with the latter. The truth of this conclusion is
evident from their conduct. Though man is natu
rally an imitative being ; and though the wicked
imitate many things in the conduct of their fellow
creatures ; things too, which are, in many respects,
foolish, ridiculous, and sinful, yet they never evince
the least desire, or make the smallest exertion to
imitate the imitable perfections of God. On .the
contrary, they refuse to be reconciled to him, fol
low a course directly opposite to his, and daily be
come, if possible, more and more unlike him.
4. The wicked will not seek after communion
with God. That there is such a thing, as the en
joyment of fellowship or communion with God, the

158 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
inspired writers most unequivocally assert ; and
one of them, St. John, informs us, that, to bring
those, whom he addressed, to the enjoyment of
this privilege, was the principal design of his epis
tle: That which we have seen and heard declare
we unto you, that ye also may have fellowship with
us ; and truly our fellowship is with the Father,
and with his Son Jesus Christ. That this fellow
ship with God and his Son is a blessed reality, and
that it is productive of the purest and most exalted
pleasures, all true Christians well know ; for thejr
often taste its sweetness, and rejoice with joy un
speakable and full of glory. But for this joy in
God, and the fellowship which produces it, the
wicked will not seek ; for they do not desire it ;
they have no conception of it, and while they con
tinue wicked, it is morally impossible, that they
should have.
Communion, or even a desire for communion
with any being, always presupposes some degree
of resemblance to that being, and a participation
of the same nature, views and feelings. Irrational
animals evidently cannot enjoy communion with
men in rational pleasures, because they have no
capacity for such pleasures ; nor can they even de
sire to enjoy communion with us, because they
have no conception of such a quality as reason, nor
of the pleasures which it qualifies us to enjoy.
But cause them to resemble us, endue them with
reason, and they will, at once, desire and enjoy
communion with us in rational pleasures and pur-

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 159
suits. For similar reasons wicked men cannot en
joy, or even wish to enjoy, communion with a holy
God ; for they resemble him as little, as the irra
tional animals do us ; and, as we have already seen,
they will not seek to resemble him. As they cannot
know spiritual things, because they are spiritually
discerned ; so they cannot enjoy spiritual pleasures,
because they are spiritually enjoyed. Not only
have they no relish or capacity for such pleasures ;
they do not even know that such pleasures exist,
nor can they form a conception of them, any more
than an irrational animal can conceive of intellec
tual enjoyments. Of course, they will not seek
after communion with God ; and while the Chris
tian, who has been made partaker of a divine na
ture, enjoys the most exquisite felicity in commu
nion with his Maker and Redeemer, praying, Lord,
lift thou up the Iigh.fr of thy countenance upon me,
they roam unsatisfied from creature to creature,
still vainly crying, who will shew us any good ?
Thus have I endeavored to illustrate and estab
lish the assertion of the Psalmist. I proceed now,
as- was proposed,
II. To the reason, why the wicked will not seek
after God, viz. their pride. — In illustration of this,
I observe, 1 . That the pride of the wicked is the principal
reason, why they will riot seek after the knowledge
of God. This knowledge it prevents them from
seeking in various ways, In the first place, it ren
ders God a disagreeable object of contemplation

160 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
to the wicked, and a knowledge of him as unde
sirable. Pride consists in an unduly exalted opin
ion of one's self, lt is therefore impatient of a
rival, hates a superior, and cannot endure a master.
In proportion as it prevails in the heart, it makes
us wish to see nothing above us, to acknowledge
no law but our own wills, to follow no rule but our
own inclinations. Thus it led Satan to rebel
against his Creator, and our first parents to desire
to be as Gods. Since such are the effects of pride,
it is evident that nothing can be more painful to a
proud heart, than the thoughts of such a being as
God ; one, who is infinitely powerful, just and ho
ly ; who can neither be resisted, deceived, nor de
luded ; who disposes, according to his own sove
reign pleasure, of all creatures and events ; and
who, in an especial manner, hates pride, and is
determined to abase and punish it. Such a being
pride can contemplate only with feelings of dread,
aversion, and abhorrence. It must look upon him
as its natural enemy ; the great enemy, whom it
has to fear. But the knowledge of God directly
tends to bring this infinite, irresistible, irreconcila
ble enemy full to the view of the proud man. It
teaches him, that he has a superior, a master, from
whose authority he cannot escape, whose power he
cannot resist, and whose will he must obey, or be
crushed before him and rendered miserable forever.
It shows him what he hates to see, that, in despite
of his opposition, God's counsel shall stand, that
he will do all his pleasure, and that, in all things,

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 16]
wherein men deal proudly, God is above them.
These truths torture the proud, unhumbled hearts
of the wicked ; and hence they hate that know
ledge of God, which teaches these truths, and will
not seek it. On the contrary, they wish to remain
ignorant of such a being, and to banish all
thoughts of him from their minds. With this view,
they neglect, pervert, or explain away those pas
sages of revelation, which describe God's true
character, and endeavor to believe, that he is alto
gether such an one as themselves.
In the second place, the pride of the wicked
prevents them from seeking after the knowledge
of God, by rendering them unwilling to be taught.
Pride is almost as impatient of a- teacher, as it is
of a master. The proud man is ever vain of his
knowledge, and is unwilling to confess, or even to
think, that there is any thing of importance, of
which he is ignorant, or that any person is capable
of giving him instruction. But if he consents to
seek after the knowledge of God, he must ac
knowledge his ignorance, he must submit to be
taught, he must, as it were, put himself to school
and become as a little child. This his proud heart
cannot brook ; and therefore he wili not seek the
knowledge of God.
In the third place, pride renders the wicked un
willing to use the means, by which alone the
knowledge of God can be acquired. For instance,
it renders them unwilling to study the scriptures in
a proper manner. Every thing, which the Bible
21

162 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
reveals, is suited to mortify pride ; for in dictating
it God had purposed in his heart to stain the pride
of all human glory. The description, which it
gives, of the desperately sinful, guilty, and ruined
condition of mankind ; of our entire dependance
on the sovereign grace of God ; the mysterious,
humbling doctrines and self-denying precepts,
which it inculcates ; the self-condemning spirit,
which it requires, and the self-abasing way of sal
vation, which it reveals, render it exceedingly dis
agreeable to the taste of the proud, wicked man.
In addition to this, it commands him to renounce
his proud dependance on his own understanding,
to sit with a teachable, childlike temper at the feet
of Jesus, and learn of him, who was meek and
lowly in heart ; to believe truths, which he cannot
fully comprehend, and which, perhaps, appear un
reasonable to his prejudiced, blinded, unhumbled
mind. These things the proud man cannot endure,
and therefore will not study the scriptures.
Pride also renders the wicked man unwilling to
pray. Prayer is an expression of wants and de
pendance, and a direct acknowledgment of a su
perior ; and in addition to this, prayer for the
knowledge of God includes a confession of igno
rance, and a request to be taught. But this the
proud man abhors. No wonder then, that he will
not pray for divine knowledge. No wonder, that,
even when he attempts this duty, he forgets its de
sign, and, like the self-righteous pharisee, instead

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 163
of soliciting pardon, grace and instruction, proudly
thanks God, that he is better than others.
In an equally powerful manner does the pride of
the wicked operate in preventing them from im
proving public and private opportunities for ac
quiring religious instruction. If the public instruc
tions of the sanctuary coincide, as they ever ought
to do, with the contents of God's word, the same
pride, which leads the wicked to dislike and neg
lect the one, will prevent them from believing and
obeying the other. And with respect to more pri
vate meetings for religious conversation and in
struction, an attendance on them is still more
offensive to the pride of their hearts. Indeed,
since they are too proud to request divine illumi
nation from God, it could scarcely be expected,
that they will stoop to receive instruction from man.
Even after the wicked man begins to be convinced
of his ignorance of God, and ofthe importance of
divine knowledge, he is unwilling to have it known,
and is ashamed to confess to his Christian friends,
or to the minister of Christ, that he is ignorant of
religious truth. Such are the principal ways, in
which the pride of the wicked operates to prevent
them from seeking the knowledge of God.
2. The pride of the wicked will not allow them
to seek after the favor of God. The proud always
aim at independence. They wish to believe them
selves, and to persuade others, that they are able
to render themselves happy, without the assistance
of any one. But to seek the favor of God,

164 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
implies dependance on him for happiness ; it implies
imperfection, inferiority. Hence it is easy to see
how the pride of the wicked prevents them from
seeking the divine favor. The way, in which
alone God's favor can be obtained, is, if possible,
still more offensive to pride. The very entrance
upon the way, is a death-blow to it ; for the Gos
pel casts down imaginations and every high thing,
that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God,
and requires us, if we would enjoy his favor, to
bow our stubborn wills to his authority, to mortify
our pride, and renounce our vainglorious, self-
righteous thoughts and feelings. It tells us, that
God resisteth the proud ; that every one, who ex
alteth himself, shall be abased ; and that the proud
in heart are an abomination to the Lord, while he
gives his grace to the lowly, and will dwell in none
but the humble and contrite heart. We can, there
fore, be at no loss to know why the pride of the
wicked will not suffer them to seek the favor of
God. 3. Pride renders the wicked unwilling to seek
after the likeness of God. Those, who have an
exalted opinion of themselves, will not easily be
persuaded to imitate others. They will rather ex
pect others to imitate them. Besides, an attempt
to imitate others, involves a confession, that they
are our superiors ; at least, that they excel us in
those respects, in which we endeavor to imitate
them. But pride hates a superior, and is unwilling
to allow that it is excelled by any one.

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 165
4. The pride of the wicked renders them un
willing to seek after communion with God. The
proud man never wishes to associate with those,
who are above him. If he must have superiors,
he wishes to be as far from them as possible, that
the sight of their superiority may not mortify his
pride. Hence the remark of proud Caesar, when
passing through an insignificant village — " I would
rather be the first man in this village, than the se
cond in Rome ;" a speech, which, though admired
by the proud and ambitious, nearly resembles that,
which Milton has put into the mouth of Satan, af
ter his fall :
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
This is the genuine language of pride ; and there
fore the proud man shuns the society of his supe
riors, and prefers that of his inferiors. He chooses
to look down, rather than to look up, because,
when he looks down, his pride is flattered by seeing
others below him ; but when he looks up, it is
mortified. Hence he will not look up to God. He
chooses rather to hold communion with irrational
animals in the gratifications of sense, than to seek
for fellowship with the greatest and best of beings,
in the pure, exalted, and exquisite pleasures of re
ligion. Thus clearly does it appear, that it is the
pride of the wicked, which renders them unwilling
to seek after God.

166 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
REFLECTIONS.
1. How evident it is from what has been said,
that salvation is wholly of grace ; and that all the
wicked, if left to themselves, will certainly perish !
They do not seek after God ; they will not seek
after him ; they are fully determined not to do it ;
the pride of their hearts supports the resolution,
and they will infallibly adhere to it unless divine
grace prevents. But if they do not seek God, they
will not find him ; and if they do not find him, they
are undone forever. Their eternal destruction is,
therefore, inevitable, unless God, of his mere so
vereign, self-moved grace, seeks those, who will
not seek him, subdues the pride of their hearts,
and makes them willing. This he has done for all,
who are saved. This he must do for all, who ever
will be saved. Need any thing more be said to
prove, that salvation is wholly of grace ?
2. How depraved, how infatuated, how un
reasonable dp the wicked appear ! and how evi
dent it is, that, if they perish, they will be the sole
authors of their own destruction ! God has given
them all the powers and faculties necessary to en
able them to seek and pursue any object. This is
evident, because they do, in fact, seek and obtain
many objects. God also commands them to seek
his face ; assures them, that none shall seek in
vain ; and, at the same time, warns them, that all,
who seek him not, will be miserable forever. But
the wicked neglect his warnings, disbelieve his

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 167
promises, and pay no attention to his commands.
When they hear him saying, Seek ye my face :
instead of replying with the Psalmist, Thy face,
Lord, will we seek, — their proud hearts obstinate
ly refuse to obey. They pursue the perishing vani
ties of time and sense through labors, dangers, and
death itself; and, wandering far from the way of
peace, and neglecting the infinite beauty, the su
preme good, the fountain of life and happiness,
they madly rush on, with blind impetuosity, into
the yawning gulf of destruction. They are, there
fore, evidently and incontestably, their own des
troyers ; and when they shall, hereafter, be sen
tenced to depart accursed from him, whom they
now refuse to seek, should the whole intelligent
universe be summoned to inquire what occasioned
their fate, they would unite in a verdict of self-
murder. 3. How foolish, how absurd, how ruinous, how
blindly destructive of its own object, does pride
appear ! By attempting to soar, it only plunges
itself in the mire ; and, while endeavoring to erect
for itself a throne, it undermines the ground on
which it stands, and digs its own grave. It plung
ed satan from heaven into hell ; it banished our first
parents from paradise, and it will, in a similar man
ner, ruin all, who indulge it. It keeps us in igno
rance of God, shuts us out from his favor, prevents
us from resembling him, deprives us, in this world,
of all the honor and happiness, which communion
with him would confer ; and in the next, unless

168 THE WICKED, THROUGH PRIDE,
previously hated, repented of, and renounced, will
bar forever against us the door of heaven, and
close upon us the gates of hell. O, then, my
friends, beware, above all things, beware of pride.
Beware, lest you indulge it imperceptibly ; for it
is, perhaps, of all sins the most secret, subtle, and
insinuating. That you may detect it, remember,
that he only, who seeks after God in his appointed
way, is humble ; and that all, who neglect thus to
seek him, are most certainly proud in heart, and,
consequently, an abomination unto the Lord.
Lastly — This subject may be applied for the pur
pose of self-examination. Say, then, my friends,
are there none present, who do not seek after God?
Are you all seeking after the knowledge of God,
by diligently and humbly studying the scriptures,
by fervent prayer, and by a conscientious improve
ment of the public and private opportunities, with
which God has favored you ? Are you all seeking
the favor of God as the one thing needful, avoiding
every thing which will tend to displease him, and
practising every thing that tends to secure his ap
probation ? Are you seeking conformity with God,
aiming to be followers of him as dear children, and
desiring to be perfect, as your Father in heaven is
perfect ? Is communion with God the grand ob
ject of your desires, the principal source of your
pleasures, the reward, at which you aim, in the
performance of religious duties ? If this be the
case with all present, you are indeed happy, and
the preceding observations have no application to

REFUSE TO SEEK GOD. 169
you. But if there be one person present, who is
not thus seeking God, that person is a wicked per
son, one, who is entirely under the influence of
pride, and against whom all the dreadful curses,
denounced by inspired writers upon the wicked,
are levelled. If there be one such person in this
assembly, may God, by his Spirit, single him out,
convince him of his wickedness, his pride, his guilt
and danger, and bring him, as a trembling inquirer
after God, to the feet of Jesus, and, as a humble
suppliant for mercy, to the foot of the cross.

170 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD

SERMON IX.
RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD PAINFUL TO THE WICKED.
PSALM LXXVII. 3.
1 REMEMBERED GOD, AND WAS TROUBLED.
Gtod is a being, whom it is impossible to con
template with indifference. His character is so
interesting, our dependance on him is so complete,
and his favor is so indispensably necessary to our
happiness, that a distinct recollection of him must
always excite either pleasing or painful emotions.
We must view him with dread and anxiety, or with
confidence and joy. Agreeably, we find, that the
recollection of God always produced one or the
other of these effects upon the mind of the Psalm
ist. It was usually productive of delight. My
soul, says he, shall be satisfied as with marrow and
fatness, and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful
lips ; when I remember thee upon my bed, and
meditate on thee in the night watches. But some
times the remembrance of God produced on his
mind very different effects. An instance of this
we have in the psalm before us. My soul refused
to be comforted; I remembered God and was
troubled ; I complained, and my spirit was over
whelmed ; I am so troubled, that I cannot speak.
The account, which the Psalmist here gives of
his experience, naturally leads to some very inter-

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 171
esting inquiries and remarks ; remarks, which will
probably come home to the bosoms and feelings of
almost every person present. There is, I presume,
scarcely an individual of mature age in this as
sembly, who cannot say, with reference to some
seasons of his life, I remembered God and was
troubled. And there are, I trust, not a few pre
sent, who can say, my meditations on God in the
night watches have been sweet. Now whence
arises this difference ? Why is the remembrance
of God pleasant to some of us, and painful to
others? Why is it sometimes pleasant, and at
others painful, to the same individual ? These are
inquiries intimately connected with our happiness ;
for since it is impossible for any one to banish all
recollection of God, and since the period is ap
proaching, when he will be always present to our
minds, it is highly necessary for our happiness, that
we should be able, at all seasons, to remember him
with pleasure.
I. In pursuing these inquiries, it may be neces
sary, in the first place, briefly to state what we
mean by remembering God. We certainly mean
something more than a transient recollection of the
word, God, or of any other name, by which he is
known. A person may hear or mention any of the
names of God, many times in a day, without form
ing any distinct conceptions of his character, or of
any part of it. He cannot, in this case, be said to
remember God ; for, properly speaking, it is only
a word, which he remembers. But by remember-

172 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD
ing God, I mean, as the Psalmist undoubtedly
meant, recollecting those ideas, which the term
God is used by the inspired writers to signify.
When they use the word, they use it to denote an
eternal, self-existent, infinitely wise, just, and good
Being, who is the Creator and Upholder of all
things, who is our Sovereign Lawgiver, and who
worketh all things according to the counsel of his
own will ; who is always present with us, who
searches our hearts, who approves or disapproves
our conduct, who loves holiness and cannot look
on sin but with abhorrence, who has power to
make us eternally happy or miserable, and who
will hereafter exert that power in bestowing end
less happiness on some persons, and dooming
others to endless woe, according to their respective
characters. Whenever a person has these ideas of
God in his mind, when he feels convinced for the
time, that there is such a being, and that he is
what the Scriptures represent him to be, then he
remembers God in the sense of the text.
II. The way is now prepared to inquire, why
the recollection of such a being should ever be
painful ; or, in other words, why any of God's
creatures should be troubled at the remembrance
of him. It may easily be shown, that there is no
thing in the divine character or government, which
necessarily renders the remembrance of God pro
ductive of painful emotions. If there were, the
remembrance of God would be painful to all his
creatures, upon all occasions. But this is not the

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 173
case. On the contrary, the remembrance of God
is always delightful to holy angels, and to the spirits
of just men made perfect. In fact, the constant
presence of Gqd constitutes their heaven. The
recollection also of his existence, character, and
government, is, usually, though not always, highly
pleasing to all good men. Nor is it strange that it
should be so. It is always pleasing to an affec
tionate child, to reflect on the character, wealth,
honor and influence of his father. The power,
grandeur, and riches of their sovereign, are a
source of heart-felt exultation and delight to all
loyal subjects. They would consider their habita
tions as highly honored by his presence, and them
selves as still more honored by an admission to his
palace. For similar reasons, the affectionate chil
dren and loyal subjects of the King of kings
can not but exult and rejoice in contemplating
the existence, the glories, the favor and the con
stant presence of their heavenly Father and King.
It is and must be pleasing to them, to reflect, that
they are the creatures, the subjects of such an in
finitely great, wise, and powerful being. The
thought, that Jehovah exists and reigns God over
all, blessed for ever ; that he brings good out of
evil, causes the wrath of man to praise him, and
makes all things work together for the accomplish
ment of his wise and just designs, cannot but be
exceedingly gratifying and consoling to persons of
this description, while they contemplate the dread-

174 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD
ful prevalence of natural and moral evil in this
ruined world.
But if there be nothing in the character or gov
ernment of God, which renders the remembrance
of him necessarily painful to his creatures ; and es
pecially if the recollection of him be in itself suited
to console, delight and animate them, then it fol
lows, that, if any are troubled by the remembrance
of God, the cause must exist solely in themselves.
My friends, it does so. Nor is it difficult to dis
cover and point out the cause. In one word, it is
sin. Nothing but sin can ever render the remem
brance of God painful to any of his creatures.
None but such as are conscious of sin indulged and
guilt contracted, can have reason to say, I remem
bered God and was troubled. This is evident
from facts. The once holy, but now fallen angels,
rejoiced in God, till they sinned. Our first parents
in paradise contemplated his character and govern
ment with unmixed delight, till they transgressed
his commands. Good men find a similar pleasure
in meditating upon these subjects, when they can
view themselves as justified from the guilt of sin
by the blood of Christ, and when they are consci
ous of no allowed deviation from the divine law.
If our hearts condemn us not, says the apostle,
then have we confidence towards God ; and the
man, who has confidence towards God, cannot be
troubled at the remembrance of him. But, on the
other hand, if our hearts or consciences condemn
us, it is impossible to remember him without being

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 175
troubled. It will then be painful to remember, that
he is our Creator and Benefactor ; for the remem
brance will be attended with a consciousness of
base ingratitude. It will be painful to think of
him as Lawgiver ; for such thoughts will remind
us, that we have broken his law. It will be pain
ful to think of his holiness ; for if he is holy, he
must hate our sins, and be angry with us, as sin
ners : — of his justice and truth ; for these perfec
tions make it necessary that he should fulfil his
threatenings and punish us for our sins. It will be
painful to think of his omniscience ; for this per
fection makes hini acquainted with our most secret
offences, and renders it impossible to conceal them
from his view : — of his omnipresence ; for the con
stant presence of an invisible witness must be dis
agreeable to those, who wish to indulge their sin
ful propensities. It will be painful to think of his
power ; for it enables him to restrain or destroy,
as he pleases; — of his sovereignty; for sinners
always hate to see themselves in the hands of a
sovereign God : — of his eternity and immutability ;
for from his possessing these perfections it follows,
that he will never alter the threatenings, which he
has denounced against sinners, and that he will al
ways live to execute them. It will be painful to
think of him as Judge ; for we shall feel, that, as
sinners, we have no reason to expect a favorable
sentence from his lips. It will even be painful to
think of the perfect goodness and excellence of
his character ; for his goodness leaves us without

176 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD
excuse in rebelling against him, and makes our sins
appear exceedingly sinful. Thus it is evident, that
the consciousness of sin committed and guilt con
tracted must render the government, and all the
perfections of God, objects of terror and anxiety
to the sinner ; and, of course, the recollection of
them must to him be painful.
Nor is this all. Every sinner loves sin. He
places his whole delight in it. The only happiness,
with which he is acquainted, consists in gratifying
either the desires of the flesh, the desires of the
eye, or the pride of life. But all these things are
contrary to the will of God. He forbids the sin
ner to pursue them ; he forbids him to indulge or
gratify his sinful propensities ; he commands him
to mortify and destroy them, to deny himself, to
take up his cross, follow Christ, and live a religious
life, in which sinners can find no pleasure. He not
only requires all this, but threatens all, who do not
comply, with everlasting punishment. Whenever,
therefore, thfe sinner thinks of God, he thinks of a
being, who crosses all his darling inclinations,
thwarts all his schemes of happiness, and treads
down self, that idol which he loves to worship, and
to which he wishes every thing to give way. The
sinner, therefore, cannot but look upon God, when
he views him in his true character, as his greatest
and most irreconcilable enemy. Agreeably, he is
represented by the inspired writers as saying in his
heart, No God ; that is, would there were no God,
or that I could escape from or resist his power.

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 177
But this, reason and revelation assure him, is
impossible. They tell him, that he can neither de
ceive God, nor fly from hira, nor resist him ; that
he is completely in his power, and that God will
dispose of him just as he pleases. This being the
case, it is evident, that, whenever he remembers
God in the sense of the text, he cannot but be
troubled. It is further evident, that the more clearly
they perceive God's character and their own ;
the more light is thrown into their consciences, the
more mercies, privileges, and opportunities they
have enjoyed and abused, — so much the more they
will be troubled by a remenfbrance of God. When
ever they contemplate him, they will be thrown into
a state of intestine war, of war with themselves.
Conscience will rise up in their breasts, and take
God's part, and reproach them for disobeying ' his
commands, and abusing his favors. Their under
standings will side with conscience, and render its
reproaches doubly terrible. On the other hand, all
their sinful feelings and propensities will array
themselves in opposition to reason and conscience,
and attempt to defend and justify themselves.
Hence inward struggles and conflicts will arise ;
the sinner's mind will become like the troubled
sea, which cannot rest, whose waters cast up mire
and dirt; and he' can have no rest, until he either
becomes cordially reconciled to God, or succeeds
in banishing all serious thoughts of him from his
breast. As well then may an imprisoned rebel
23

178 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD
think of his sovereign, or a condemned criminal
of his judge, with pleasure, as an inpenitent sinner
remember his offended God, without being troub
led. But it may, perhaps, be objected, that many im
penitent sinners appear to remember God, not only
without pain, but even with pleasing emotions. I
answer, it is not the true God, whom they remem
ber, but an imaginary god, a god of their own cre
ation. Sinners soon find, that it is impossible to
think of such a God, as the scriptures describe,
without anxiety and alarm. Their carnal minds
are full of enmity against such a being. They,
therefore, proceed to fotm a god of their own, one,
who will not interrupt, oppose, or alarm them in
their sinful pursuits ; and such a god they can con
template without pain, and even with pleasure.
Hence we are told, that they think God to be al
together such an one as themselves, and say in their
hearts respecting sin, God will not requite it.
It will, perhaps, be further objected, that there
are some things in the character and government
of God, which are adapted to allay the apprehen
sions of sinners, and prevent them from being
troubled at the remembrance of him ; his forbear
ance, long-suffering, and mercy, for instance, and
especially the display, which he has made, of his
love in the Gospel of Christ. ^ answer, it is
readily allowed, that these things are suited to en
courage and comfort those, who, in the exercise of
repentance and faith in Christ, become reconciled

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 179
to God, and embrace the offers of mercy. Indeed,
were it not for these things, not one of our apostate
race could ever contemplate God with any other
feelings, than those of terror, remorse, and despair ;
for we have all sinned, and exposed ourselves to
everlasting condemnation. But while the mercy
and grace of God, as displayed in the Gospel, are
well adapted to comfort the penitent believer, they
can evidently afford no rational ground of consola
tion to impenitent sinners, nor enable them, to con
template him without being troubled. Promises of
pardon to the penitent, the believer, the reconciled,
are nothing to the impenitent, the unbeliever, the
unreconciled rebel, whose heart is still at enmity
against God. To such persons the divine charac
ter and government still remain no less terrible,
than if Christ had not died, and mercy were not
offered. Nay, they are, in some respects, more so ;
for the Gospel has threatenings, as well as the Law,
and it denounces on those, who neglect it, a much
sorer punishment, than does the Law itself. Those,
therefore, who neglect the Gospel, and refuse to
repent and be reconciled to God, cannot remember
him without being troubled. The same may be
said of hypocritical professors, at least, of those,
who know or suspect themselves to be such ; for to
them the thoughts of an all seeing, heart searching
Judge, who cannot be deceived, and who will bring
every secret thing into judgment, cannot but be
exceedingly painful. The presence of a penetrat-

180 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD
ing master is ever disagreeable to an unfaithful
servant. APPLICATION.
1. This subject, my friends, affords a rule, by
which we may try ourselves, and which will assist
us much in discovering pur real characters ; for the
moral character of every intelligent creature, cor
responds with his habitual views and feelings re
specting God. If we never remember him in the
sense of the text, or if we think of him unfrequently
and with indifference, it is an infallible proof, that
our characters are wholly sinful, and our situation
most dangerous ; for we are expressly told, that all
who forget God, shall be turned into hell. If we
do not habitually contemplate God's true charac
ter and government with heartfelt satisfaction ; if
we do not rejoice, that the Lord reigns, and that
he is just such a being as the scriptures represent
him, and that we and all other creatures are in his
hands, — it is certain, that we are not reconciled to
him, that we still remain under the power of that
carnal mind, which is enmity against God. If,
though we can usually contemplate these objects
with delight, we sometimes find the thoughts of
them painful, it is a proof, that, at such times, we
are in a state of backsliding, from which we ought
immediately to return. But whenever we can re
member the true character of God, and the truths
connected with it, without being troubled, when
we can think of appearing in his presence at the

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 1 81
judgment day with a humble, solemn joy ; and,
especially, when we feel, that, to be with him, to
see and praise him, forever and ever, is the very
heaven which we desire, then we may be sure, that
we are his real children, and that we are in a state
of actual preparation for death.
2. From this subject we may learn how wretched
is the situation of impenitent sinners ; of those,
who cannot remember God, without being troubled.
That such persons cannot enjoy real happiness
even in this life, is too evident to require proof ;
for the world cannot afford it, and they dare not
look up for it to heaven, the only source whence it
can be derived. Nay more, that great and glori
ous being, who alone can communicate happiness,
is to them an object of dread, and a cause of
anxious apprehension. The waters of life, which
convey refreshment and felicity to all holy beings,
are to them waters of bitterness ; and what ought
to be their happiness, constitutes their misery.
Hence, whatever calamities and afflictions may
overwhelm them, however deeply they may be dis
tressed, and however greatly they may need conso
lation, they cannot look for it to the God of all
consolation ; for the remembrance of him would
only increase their troubles. Indeed, the remem
brance of him is usually most painful to sinners,
when they are most severely afflicted ; because
they justly consider their afflictions as proofs of his
displeasure. And if the situation of such persons
is wretched in life, how much more so must it be

182 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD
at death, and in eternity ! You will, I presume,
allow, that, if there be any such thing as consola
tion, it must be drawn from the contemplation of
God, and of a future state ; for it is most certain,
that neither this world nor its inhabitants can afford
it. But from the contemplation of these objects
the dying sinner can derive no consolation. On
the contrary, he must, if he thinks of them at all,
think of them only with anxiety and dread. If he
thinks of God, he can think of him only as a being,
whom he has neglected and offended, whose mer
cies he has abused, and who can view his conduct
with no feelings but those of indignation and ab
horrence. Every remembrance of him must be
accompanied with a recollection of duties neglect
ed, and siris committed, and with fearful apprehen
sions of his just and eternal displeasure. Which
way soever the expiring sinner turns his eye, he
can, therefore, discover nothing, which does not
add to his wretchedness and despair. If he looks
forward, he sees nothing but the dark and gloomy
valley of death, through which no friend will ac
company him ; the burning throne of judgment, to
which he is hastening, and eternity, shrouded in
blackness and darkness, spreading in boundless ex
tent beyond it. If he looks back, he sees number
less sins following him as accusers to the judgment
seat, and threatening there to find him out. If he
looks upward, he sees nothing but the frowning
eye of a just and angry God, the glories of which
search his inmost soul, and wither all his hopes.

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 183
If he looks downwards, it is to that bottomless
abyss, which he cannot but fear awaits him. He
'turns, and turns, and finds no ray of hope.'
My friends, if such be the death of those, who
forget God* what must be their eternity ? No
sooner do they leave the body, than that holy,
just, eternal being, whose every remembrance trou
bled them, bursts, at once, in all his burning glo
ries, upon their aching sight ! And if merely to
remember him were painful, what must the sight
of him be? Think of a wretch deprived of his
eyelids, and condemned to gaze unremittingly at a
scorching sun, till the balls of sight were withered
and dried up, — and you will have some faint con
ception of the feelings of a sinful creature doomed
to gaze, through eternity, at the, to him, heart
withering perfections of that God, who is a con
suming fire to all the workers of iniquity.
My sinful hearers, you, to whom the remem
brance of God is painful, will you not hear and be
convinced ? I do not so much ask you to believe
the scriptures, as to believe the testimony of your
own experience. You cannot but be sensible, that
the light of divine truth is painful to you ; that the
thoughts of God, of death, and judgment, trouble
you. Nor can you deny, that you are mortal, that
you must soon exchange this world for another.
Now if the remembrance of God be painful to you
while in health, must it not bo far more painful to
you, when sickness and death come upon you. If

184 RECOLLECTldNS OF GOD
the mere recollection of God troubles you, must
not the sight of him be incomparably more pro
ductive of distress ? Why, then, will you put away
thoughts, which must return, at a dying hour, to
overwhelm you ? which must be your eternal
companions ! Why will you put off that prep
aration for death, which alone can prevent the rec
ollection, and the sight of God from being produc
tive of anguish ? and which will convert what is
now painful into a source of the purest, of ever
lasting felicity ? Why will you continue in the
wretched state of those, who are rendered unhap
py by the remembrance of their Creator, of a be
ing, in whose world they live, of whom every thing
tends to remind them ; a being, who is not far
from every one of them, and in whose presence
they must dwell forever ? How wretched would be
the situation of the inhabitants of the ocean, if the
element, which surrounds them, and out of which
they cannot exist, should become to them a source
of misery ! And how much more wretched, then,
must be the situation of those, who are made mis
erable by the remembrance, or by the sight of him,
in whom they live, and move, and from whom they
can never fly ! Why then, will you not be persuad
ed to renounce those sins, which are the only
cause, that renders the recollection of God. pain
ful, and to embrace those terms of reconciliation,
which will render the thoughts, and the presence
of God consoling in life, delightful in death, and

PAINFUL TO THE WICKED. 1 85
productive of ineffable happiness through eternity ?
This leads us to remark,
3. How great are our obligations to God for the
gospel of Christ, the gospel of reconciliation !
Were it not for this, the remembrance, and still
more the presence of God, would have occasioned
nothing but pure, unmingled wretchedness to any
human being. Were it not for this, no child of
Adam could ever have contemplated God in any
other light, than that of an inflexibly holy, just, and
offended Judge, all whose perfections demanded
his destruction. Were it not for this, there could
have been nothing before us, but a certain, fearful
looking for of judgment, and fiery indignation. It
is only when viewed through that Mediator, whom
the gospel reveals, that God can be contemplated
by sinful creatures, without dismay and despair.
But in and through him God is reconciled. In and
through him peace is offered to rebellious men ;
through him we may all have access by one Spirit
unto the Father. O, then, be thankful for the gos
pel of reconciliation, and show your gratitude, by
eagerly embracing the terms of peace, which it
proposes. Now, then, we are ambassadors for
Christ, as though God did beseech you by us : we
pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God.
4. Is sin alone the cause, which renders the re
membrance of God painful ? Then let all, who
have embraced the terms of reconciliation offered
by the gospel, all who desire to remember God
without being troubled, beware, above all things,
24

186 RECOLLECTIONS OF GOD, &c»
beware of sin. It is sin, my christian friends, which
is the cause of all your sorrows. It is sin alone,
which spreads a frown over the smiling face of
God ; sin, which hides from you the light of his
countenance, which prevents you from always con
templating him with pure, unmingled delight and
confidence. Swear, then, an eternal war with sin ;
not only swear, but maintain it. Oppose sin reso
lutely, crucify it, mortify it in every way, and under
all the forms, in which it appears, and it shall not
have dominion over you. You shall not have the
spirit of bondage again to fear ; but the spirit of
adoption, whereby ye will cry, Abba, Father.

SERMON X.
SINNERS WILFUL AND PERVERSE.
LUKE VII. 31-35.
AND THE LORD SAID, WHEREUNTO THEN SHALL I LIKEN THE MEN OF THIS
GENERATION ? AND TO WHAT ARE THEY LIKE ? THEY ARE LIKE UNTO
CHILDREN SITTING IN THE MARKET-PLACE, AND CALLING ONE TO AN
OTHER, AND SAYING, WE HAVE PIPED UNTO YOU, AND YE HAVE NOT
DANCED ; WE HAVE MOURNED TO YOU, AND YE HAVE NOT WEFT. FOR
JOHN THE BAPTIST CAME NEITHER EATING BREAD NOR DRINKING WINE ;
AND YE SAY, HE HATH A DEVIL. THE SON OF MAN IS COME EATING AND
DRINKING ; AND YE SAY, BEHOLD A GLUTTONOUS MAN, AND A WINE-
BIBBER, A FRIEND OF PUBLICANS AND SINNERS ! BUT WISDOM IS JUSTI
FIED OF ALL HER CHILDREN.
If we ever find infinite wisdom apparently at a
loss, it is when she would describe the unreasona
bleness and perverseness of sinners, or devise
proper means to reclaim them. Thus we find her
saying to God's ancient people, O Ephraim, what
shall I do unto thee ? O Judah, what shall I do
unto thee ? for thy goodness is as a morning cloud,
and as the early dew it goeth away. In a similar
manner Christ here represents himself as at a loss
how to ^describe the perverseness and obstinacy of
his hearers. Whereunto, says he, shall I liken the
men of this generation ? and to what are they like ?
As it is, however, impossible, that the infinitely
wise Saviour should ever be really at a loss, he im
mediately fixes upon a similitude, which strikingly

188 SINNERS WILFUL
illustrated their character and conduct. They are,
says he, like children sitting in the market-place,
and saying to their fellows, We have piped unto
you, and ye have not danced ; we have mourned
unto you, and ye have not wept. To see the force
and appositeness of this comparison, it is necessary
to recollect the manner, in which weddings and
funerals were solemnized among the Jews. At
their weddings, a procession was formed, preceded
by musicians, playing cheerful tunes, and dancers,
who accompanied and kept time to their music.
At their funerals also they had mourners, who per
formed solemn and mournful airs, or uttered cries,
lamentations and other expressions of grief. These
various ceremonies the Jewish children were accus
tomed to imitate in their amusements. Sometimes
they played cheerful tunes, and rejoiced as at a
marriage feast ; at others, they uttered mournful
sounds, and affected to weep, as at a funeral proces
sion. Sometimes, however, children, who wished
to amuse themselves in this manner, found their
companions peevish and unwilling to join with
them. If they piped and rejoiced, as at a wedding,
these ill humored companions would not dance ;
if, to please them, they changed their strain, and
mourned, as at a funeral, they would not weep and
lament. Hence they complained, as in our text,
that it was impossible to please them, they would
neither do one thing nor another. Similar to the
temper and conduct of these perverse children was
that of the Jews in the Saviour's time, and simila?

AND PERVERSE. 1 89
has been the conduct of sinners ever since. To
trace this similarity, is my present design.
I. The companions of these perverse children
employed various means to conquer their obstinacy
and persuade them to join in their amusements.
So God has employed a great variety of means to
persuade sinners to embrace the Gospel. He has
sent judgments to subdue, and mercies to melt
them ; arguments to convince, and motives to per
suade them ; threatenings to terrify, and invitations
to allure them. In different parts of his word he
has exhibited divine truth in every possible variety
of form. In one place it is presented plainly to the
mind in the form of doctrines ; in another, it is
couched under the veil of some instructive and
striking parable ; in a third, it is presented to us in
a garb of types and shadows ; in a fourth, it is illus
trated by the most beautiful figures ; and, in a fifth,
exemplified in some well drawn character, or inter
esting portion of history. In a word, he addresses
us, by turns, in language the most plain and simple,
the most grand and commanding, the most pointed
and energetic, the most sublime and beautiful, the
most impressive and affecting, the most pathetic
and melting. God and men, this world and the
next, time and eternity, death and judgment, heaven
and hell, — these rise successively to our view, por
trayed in the most vivid colors, and exhibited in
various forms, while the whole created universe is
put in requisition to furnish images for ths illustra
tion of these awful realities ; and the infinite wisdom

190 SINNERS WILFUL
of God himself is exerted, if I may so express it, to
the utmost, in devising and employing the most
suitable means to impress them upon our minds,
and cause them to affect our hearts. Thus he has
addressed himself, by turns, to our eyes and to our
ears, to our understandings and consciences, to our
imaginations and to our affections, to our hopes
and to our fears ; and caused divine truth to seek
admission to our minds by every avenue, to try
every possible way of access.
Corresponding to these various means, and to the
different modes of instruction adopted in his word,
are the various gifts and qualifications, with which
he furnishes those, who are sent as his ambassadors
to men. As he knows the different tastes and dis
positions of men, and the modes of address best
adapted to convince and persuade them, he endues
his messengers with a great diversity of gifts, so
that, by one or another of them, every class of
hearers may be gratified. He sends some minis
ters, who are sons of thunder, well qualified to
awaken, rouse, and convince the careless ; while
others, like Barnabas, are sons of consolation, and
fitted to comfort the feeble minded and support the
weak. Some he furnishes with clear, penetrating
minds, and strong reasoning powers, that they may
perspicuously state, and ably defend the doctrines
of revelation, answer objections, and, by sound
arguments, convince the gainsayers. To others he
gives warm feelings and lively imaginations, that
they may urge divine truth upon the hearts and

AND PERVERSE. 191
consciences of their hearers, in a more forcible,
impassioned and impressive manner. On a third
class he bestows the faculty of presenting truth to
the mind in a mild, insinuating, persuasive way, by
which it steals into and melts the heart, descend
ing upon it like the dews of heaven, or silent
showers, which water the earth. Thus, how diver
sified soever are the tastes and dispositions of men,
all may, in turn, be gratified, in consequence of the
variety of ministerial gifts, which God employs for
the conversion of sinners and the edification of his
church. Thus the healing medicine of divine truth
is presented to the vitiated palates of sinners in
every possible variety of form ; or to allude to the
comparison in our text, thus do different ministers
address their hearers in different strains, sometimes
endeavoring to allure them to embrace the gospel,
by comparing it to a marriage feast ; and, at others,
attempting to terrify them to fly to it, by bringing
into view the solemnities of death, and the awful
scenes which follow it.
II. Notwithstanding the different means employ
ed with these perverse children, they would not be
prevailed upon to comply with the wishes of their
companions. We have piped unto you, say they,
but ye have not danced ; we have mourned unto
you, but ye have not lamented. Precisely similar
is the conduct of impenitent sinners. Notwith
standing the great variety of means, which God
employs to persuade them to embrace the Gospel ;
and though, as our Saviour teaches us, these

192 SINNERS WILFUL
means are no less adapted to produce the effect
than a message from the dead, yet still they per
versely refuse to comply. Reason with them —
they will not be convinced ; set motives before
them — they will not be persuaded ; address their
hearts — they will not be affected ; appeal to their
consciences — they will not feel guilty ; attempt to
excite their fears — they will not be alarmed ; en
deavor to allure them to Christ by promises and
invitations — they will not come. Beseech them,
weep over them, expostulate with them in the most
affectionate and pathetic manner ; set good and
evil, life and death, hell and heaven, judgment and
eternity before them in every form — they make
light of all, and go their ways, one to his farm, and
another to his merchandize. In vain have proph
ets prophesied ; in vain have apostles preached ; in
vain have angels descended from heaven ; in vain
has the Son of God appeared on earth, and spoken
as never man spake ; in vain has the eternal Fa
ther proclaimed from heaven, This is my beloved
Son, hear ye him : — still sinners will not hear, they
will not come to Christ for life, they will neglect
the great salvation of the Gospel. Thus it always
has been, thus it still is, and thus it always will be,
while the heart remains what it is, and almighty
grace is not exerted to subdue it.
III. The reason, why these perverse children
could not be persuaded to comply with the wishes
of their companions, was, that they were out of hu
mor, or, for some other reason, felt indisposed to

AND PERVERSE. 193
gratify them. Similar is the reason, why sinners
will not be persuaded to embrace the Gospel, by
all the means, which God employs for this purpose.
They do not come to Christ for life, because they
will not. Their proud, selfish hearts, are full of en
mity and opposition to God, and therefore they
will not be reconciled. It is the gospel itself, which
they dislike ; and, therefore, how various soever
may be the forms, in which it is presented, how
clear soever the light, in which it is displayed, they
still reject it. It is because I speak the truth, says
our Saviour, that ye believe me not. This, how
ever, sinners are, by no means, willing to acknowl
edge. They are afraid to confess, even to them
selves, that it is hatred of the truth alone, which
prevents them from Embracing it. They, therefore,
attempt to excuse themselves by imputing their re
jection of the gospel to some other cause ; and to
no cause do they impute it more frequently^ than
to the faults of its professors, or to something in
the manner or conduct of those, who preach it.
Thus, we learn from our text, did the Jews. John
Baptist came neither eating, nor drinking ; that is,
he lived in the most frugal, abstemious manner,
and, as a preacher of repentance, was reserved in
his deportment, and severe in his rebukes. Hence
they said, He hath a devil ; that is, he is a morose,
visionary, melancholy man, little better than one
distracted, who knows not what he says. Our Sa
viour, on the contrary, came eating and drinking ;
he associated with men in an affable, familiar man-
25

194 SINNERS WILFUL
ner, with a view to instruct them, and for the same
benevolent purpose visited and conversed with the
most abandoned characters. His perverse hearers
then changed their tone, and cried, Behold a man
gluttonous, and a wine bibber, a friend of publicans
and sinners. In a similar manner do sinners at the
present day, attempt to conceal and excuse their
opposition to the gospel. If professors of religion
and its ministers live as they ought, soberly, right
eously, and godly, they are said to be too rigid,
superstitious, righteous overmuch. If, on the con
trary, they are of a more cheerful, social turn, the
world immediately exclaims, These are your pro
fessors, your saints ; but in what respect do they
differ from others ? If they are punctual in attend
ing public and private meetings for religious wor
ship, spend much time in prayer, and devote a
considerable portion of their property to charitable
and religious purposes, it is immediately said, that
religion makes men idle and negligent of their
families. If, on the other hand, they are industri
ous, frugal, and attentive to business, they are no
less quickly accused of loving the world, as well
as their neighbors, who make no pretensions to re
ligion. If a minister reasons with his hearers in a
cool, dispassionate manner, and labors to convince
their understandings, he is accused of being dry
and formal in his preaching, or of not believing
what he says. If another preaches in a more live
ly, animated strain, clearly proclaims the terrors of
the Lord, and warns his hearers to fly from the

AND PERVERSE. 195
wrath to come, he is charged with endeavoring to
work on nien's passions, and to frighten them into
religion. If he insists much on the doctrines of
Christianity, the necessity of faith, and the impos
sibility of being justified by our own works, he is
accused of undervaluing morality, and represent
ing the practice of good works as needless. If, on
the other hand, he clearly exhibits the pure moral
ity of the gospel, inculcates holiness of heart and
life, and states the dreadful consequences of neg
lecting it, he is charged with driving-men to des
pair by unreasonable strictness and severity. Thus
in almost innumerable ways men ascribe their neg
lect of the gospel to the faults of its professors, or
to something in the manner, in which it is preach
ed, and thus harden themselves and others in un
belief. But though they may thus deceive themselves,
they cannot deceive God. He knows and has said,
that the true reason of their rejecting it is, that
they love darkness rather than light, because their
deeds are evil. For every one, that doeth evil,
hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, lest
his deeds should be reproved. That this is the
case, is evident from men's conduct in other res
pects. Think not, however, my friends, that, in
mentioning these things, we are indulging a spirit
of recrimination or complaint. It is not for our
own sakes, that we make these remarks, — for it is
of very little ' consequence what men may say of
us, — but' for your sakes. It is necessary to your

196 SINNERS WILFUL
conversion, that you should know what are the true
causes of your rejecting the gospel ; for until you
know these, you will never embrace it. It is also
necessary for God's glory, that the cause should
evidently appear to be the obstinacy of sinners,
and not any deficiency in the means employed by
him for their conversion. Whether you will be
lieve this or not, it is most certainly the truth, and
you will one day be convinced that it is. Mean
while, God has not left himself without witnesses
to clear his character, and the honor of his gospel,
from the groundless aspersions of sinners, — wit
nesses, which justify him before an ungodly world ;
for our Saviour assures us in the conclusion of this
parable, that, however sinners may reject the gos
pel, and condemn the manner, in which it is
preached, still, wisdom is justified of all her chil
dren. By wisdom, is here meant, either God
himself, or the gospel, with the means which he
employs for its promulgation. He is the only wise
God, and fhe gospel is styled his hidden wisdom,
or the wisdom of God in a mystery ; while by the
means, which he employs to render it successful in
building up his church, his manifold wisdom, we
are told, is displayed. By the children of wisdom,
are intended the children of God, or in other words,
those who yield to the force of his appointed means
and cordially embrace the gospel. By all such,
God, and his ways, are justified, and the wisdom of
all his proceedings is readily acknowledged. They
admire, love, and adore him, for the infinite wis-

AND PERVERSE. 197
dom, as well as goodness, which appears in the
gospel plan of salvation ; and, while they contem
plate it, exclaim with the apostle, O the depth of
the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of
God! Little less do they admire the wisdom and good
ness of God, as displayed in the means, which he
employs to promote the success of the gospel ; and
in the fulness, richness, and variety of the scrip
tures, and in the diversity of gifts bestowed on his
ministering servants. And, while they acknowl
edge, that nothing but hjs all-conquering grace
could have rendered these means efficacious to
conquer their own stubborn hearts, and humbly
cry, Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to thy
name be the glory, — they clearly see and unani
mously testify, that the only reason, why sinners do
not embrace the gospel, is their hatred of the truth,
and their opposition to God. Thus wisdom is jus
tified of all her children ; and this is the only
encouragement, which ministers have to preach the
gospel. They know, that it always has been, and
that it always will be, foolishness to them that
perish ; and that by all such they shall themselves
be considered as little better than fools and bab
blers, for if men have called the master of the
house Beelzebub, how much more will they thus
call those of his household. But they also know,
that there are some, though, alas, too few, who
are the children of wisdom ; and that to them the
preaching of the cross will always be the wisdom

198 SINNERS WILFUL
of God, and the power of God unto salvation.
Some such, I desire to bless God, there are in this
assembly ; some, who receive the truth in the love
of it ; some, who have felt its transforming, life-
giving power ; some, who, like all the children of
wisdom, justify their heavenly Father and condemn
themselves. It is, my christian friends, indeed a
delightful employment to preach to you the un
searchable riches of Christ ; for you can, in some
measure, feel their worth. It is pleasant to expa
tiate to you on his glories and beauties ; for you
have eyes to discern, and hearts to feel them. It
is pleasant to invite you to the gospel feast; for
you have a disposition to comply. When we dis
play the sufferings of your crucified Lord, and the
sins which occasioned them, you are ready to mourn
with us in godly sorrow and contrition of heart.
And when in more cheerful strains we proclaim the
happy consequences of his sufferings, and blow the
trumpet, whose silver sounds are pardon, peace,
and salvation, for dying men, you are equally ready
to rejoice. In a word, your hearts are in unison
with the gospel harp ; when we strike its golden
strings, your feelings vibrate to every touch ; and
you can accompany us, through its whole compass
of sound, from the low notes of pious grief and
penitential sorrow, up to the high thrilling tones of
enraptured gratitude, love, and praise, which al
most accord with the harps of the redeemed before
the throne. Yes, you have learned that new song,
which none can learn, but those who are redeemed

AND PERVERSE. 199
from the earth ; that song, which is sung in heaven,
which will be new to all eternity ; and most happy
and highly honored do I think myself, in being per
mitted to lead your choir on earth, and to hope
that we shall sing it together in the full choir of the
redeemed above. It is the greatest of my present
supports and consolations, to see in you a proof,
that my labors are not altogether in vain. O, then,
my brethren, my fellow travellers to heaven, my
fellow heirs of its glories ! strive to obtain hearts
more and more perfectly attuned to the gospel
harp ; more habitually disposed to vibrate to its
celestial sounds. Daily practice the song of the
redeemed, and cause the notes of heaven to be
heard on earth. Strive, by adorning the doctrine
of God, your Saviour, to justify the wisdom, which
reveals it, and to put to silence the ignorance of
foolish men. And if any word I have ever spoken
has been blessed to excite godly sorrow or religious
feelings in your breasts, let me beseech you, in re
turn, to pray for me, that I may be better furnished
with the necessary qualifications for the ministry ;
that I may never utter an uncertain sound, and
that, when I call sinners to mourn for their sins, or
to rejoice in a Saviour, God's grace may render the
call effectual.
Would to God, my friends, we could believe, that
the class now addressed, included all in this assem
bly. But melancholy experience constrains us to
believe, that the comparison in our text applies to
many present, no less exactly than it did to the

200 SINNERS WILFUL
Jews. As promising means, as God employed to
effect their conversion, have been employed with
you. Indeed you enjoy far greater advantages
than they did. They had only the Old Testament.
You, in addition to that, enjoy the New. They
were stumbled and perplexed by the mean circum
stances, in which Christ appeared, so different from
what they expected. To you the reasons of his
appearing in this manner, are fully explained.
They rejected the Sun of Righteousness, when he
first rose, and when his beams were comparatively
feeble ; you reject him, while shining in meridian
splendor, and after his beams have blessed the na
tions for more than eighteen hundred years, diffu
sing light and happiness, wherever they come.
They only heard the predictions of Christ ; you
have witnessed their exact fulfilment. They refu
sed to hear Christ, while he spake on earth ; you
turn away your ears now he speaks from heaven.
They refused to believe the testimony of prophets
and apostles ; you reject, not only their testimony,
but that of all the multitudes of Christ's ministers,
who have preached ever since. It is not surprising
therefore, that you should refuse to believe my tes
timony. I have exerted, to the utmost, the abilities
God has given me ; in his name, I have, by turns,
reasoned and persuaded, exhorted and entreated,
invited and threatened, warned and promised, pray
ed and wept, — but to no purpose. I have set
before you, all that is awful and all that is amiable,
all that is alarming and all that is alluring, but

AND PERVERSE. 201
without effect. I have sounded the brazen trumpet
ofthe law, but you have not mourned. I have
blown the silver trumpet of the gospel, but you haye
not rejoiced. Other and more able ministers ha%<j
also addressed you. You have, from this pulpitf,
heard, at different times, cogent reasoners, eloquent
speakers, and impressive, persuasive preachers,
endeavoring to prevail with you to embrace the
gospel. But all has been vain, and with respect to
many of you, I fear, worse than in vain. My labors
have now apparently less effect upon many of you
than ever. Where they once made some impres
sion, they now pass like water over a rock ; where
they once convinced, they now only irritate ; where
I was once received with affection, I am now con
sidered as an enemy, because I tell you the truth.
' My friends — if, to labor, and watch, and pray for
your salvation, with a heart broken with apprehen
sion and tortured with anxiety, lest you should fail
of it ; if, to goad on a worn out body and jaded
mind to exertions in your behalf, under which na
ture sinks, and life becomes a burden ; if, to desire
your conversion more than riches, more than repu
tation, more than health, more than life, — if these
things are marks of an enemy, then I am yoUiff
enemy, and such an enemy, I trust, I shall contin
to be to my last breath. In fact, if I except the
tempter and the world, you have no enemies but
yourselves. God, and Christ, and his servants, are
your friends, or would be, if you would permit
them ; but, alas, you will not. Often would they
26

202 SINNERS WILFUL
have gathered you, but ye would not. A deep
rooted, unconquerable aversion to what you think
the strictness of Christ's regulations, frustrates all
the endeavors of your friends to save you. You
know, that religion is important, you are convinced
that it should be attended to ; but you have no
heart to it, you have no love for it, and, therefore,
as you sometimes confess, you cannot give your
minds to it. My friends, what will be the end of
this ? You have seen its end in the Jews. You
know how terribly they were destroyed for neglect
ing Christ ; and if they escaped not, who refused
him, when he spake on earth, much more shall not
ye escape, if ye turn from him who addresses you
from heaven. Once more, then, we conjure you
by every thing sacred and every thing dear, by every
thing dreadful and every thing desirable, to re
nounce your unreasonable opposition, and yield
yourselves the willing servants of Christ.
But there is also a third class of persons in this
assembly, who must be addressed, though we hardly
know in what manner to address them. It is com
posed of such as resemble the son in the parable,
who, when his father said, Son, go work to-day in
my vineyard, immediately replied, I go, sir, but
went not. When we speak to these persons in an
affecting, mournful manner, and bring to their view
the solemnities Of death, judgment, and eternity,
they seem ready to weep. And when we tell them
of the goodness of God, the love of Christ, and the
happiness of those, who come to his marriage feast,

AND PERVERSE. 203
they are equally ready to rejoice, and seem to de
sire nothing so much as religion. But in a week,
or perhaps in a day, they are the same as before.
That there are many such among us, is evident
from recent circumstances. We, a short time since,
as you probably recollect, invited all, who consid
ered religion as the one thing needful, and who
meant to pursue it as such, to meet us at a certain
place. We particularly requested, that none would
attend, who had not made up their minds on the
subject, who were not fully determined to perse
vere. In consequence of this invitation nearly one
hundred persons assembled. I rejoiced at the sight,
and immediately wrote to a society, that wished me
to make a missionary tour, that, in consequence of
the serious attention, that existed among my peo
ple, I could not leave them. — But where now are
those, who thus pledged themselves to God, and to
each other, and to me, that they would pursue re
ligion ? Alas ! I fear, that their goodness has been
as the morning cloud and early dew, that soon pass
away. That / should not know what to say to
such persons, is not surprising, since, as I observed
at the commencement of this discourse, God him
self seems as if at a loss what to do with them.
As an ancient writer observes, they are, by turns, a
minister's comforters and tormentors. They excite
his expectations to-day, but they disappoint him
most painfully to-morrow. Let them not think,
however, that their temporary convictions will
prevent them from being numbered among the

204

SINNERS WILFUL &c.

characters described in our text. Let them not
flatter themselves, that their conversion is render
ed more probable by these transitory impressions.
Every resistance of conviction renders such an
event more hopeless.

SERMON XI.
AMIABLE INSTINCTS NOT HOLINESS.
I. THE33ALONIANS V. 23.
AND THE VERY GOD OF PEACE SANCTIFY YOU WHOLLY ; AND I PRAY GOD
YOUR WHOLE SPIRIT AND SOUL AND BODY BE PRESERVED BLAMELESS
UNTO THE COMING OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST.
This prayer of the apostle for the universal
sanctification of the Thessalonian christians, leads
us to notice a distinction in the natural constitution
of man, which is not, perhaps, sufficiently attended
to. He speaks, you will observe, not only of their
body, and their spirit, but of their soul. The ques
tion is, what does he mean by this ? The word
soul, usually signifies the intellectual, immortal part
of man, by which he is distinguished from the
brutes. But this cannot be its meaning here, be
cause he expressly mentions the spirit, or immortal
part, in distinction from the soul, or as something
different from it. What then does he mean by this
term? If we 'turn our attention, for a moment, to
irrational animals, we shall find a satisfactory
answer to the question. We have no reason to be
lieve, that these animals possess an immortal soul,
or what the apostle in our text calls a spirit. On
the contrary, we have reason to believe, that they
do not possess such a soul ; for an inspired writer

206 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
speaks of a difference between the spirit of a man,
which goeth upward, and the spirit of a beast,
which goeth downward to the earth. Yet animals
have something, which may be called a soul, that
is, something besides a body ; for they can love
and hate, they can be pleased or made angry ; they
have various wonderful instincts, and they evidently
possess memory. Now take away the intellectual,
immortal part of man, or what is called in the text,
his spirit, and he would be like one of these ani
mals. He would still possess not only a body, but
what may be called an animal soul ; and it is, I
conceive, this animal soul, which the apostle means
in our text, and which he prays might be sanctified
and preserved blameless. By praying that this
might be the case, he evidently intimates, that it
ought to be the case, that the animal soul of man,
as well as his body and immortal part, ought to be
sanctified or made holy.
I have often explained the nature of sanctifica
tion, and its effects upon the appetites and members
of the body. I propose, in the present discourse,
to consider more particularly the sanctification of
the animal soul of man, or that part of human
nature, which does not, properly speaking, belong
either to the body or to the mind, but which is dis
tinct from both.
In the prosecution of this design I shall natural
ly be led to show more fully, what belongs to the
animal soul of man, and in what respects the ani-

NOT HOLINESS. 207
mal feelings of those, who are sanctified, differ
from the same feelings in those, who are not.
The first thing, which I shall mention as belong
ing to the animal soul, is that mutual affection,
which subsists between parents and their children.
I consider this affection as belonging to the animal
soul, because irrational animals evidently possess
it. While their offspring are in a dependant state,
and need their care, they display an affection for
them, at least as strong, as was ever exhibited by
human parents. They not only hazard, but often
lose their own lives in defending their young. And
their offspring no less evidently return their affec
tion. We may add, that the sorrow, which animals
feel, when deprived of their young, appears to be
as deep, though by no means so lasting, as that
which parents feel for the loss of their children.
We have, therefore, I conceive, sufficient reason to
conclude that parental and filial love, as it natur
ally exists in mankind, is an affection, not of the
immortal part or spirit, but of the animal soul,
though it is doubtless, in some measure, modified
and often regulated by our rational soul. And
hence we farther conclude, that these affections,
while they remain unsanctified by the Spirit of God,
or as they exist in men void of religion, have noth
ing in them of a religious nature, nothing of moral
goodness or true holiness, nothing, which God is
under any obligation to accept or reward. No one
supposes, that there is any moral goodness in the
affection, which animals feel for their young. And

208 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
the affection, which parents and children feel for
each other, appears to be of the same nature. We
do; not naturally love our children, because God
requires it ; we do not love them with a view to
please him ; we do not love them because it is a
duty ; our affection for them seems to be a mere
natural animal instinct, which is, in itself, neither
holy nor sinful. But as it now exists in fallen man,
it partakes largely of that universal depravity, which
infects his whole nature. In various ways it be
comes sinful itself, and leads us into other sins.
It becomes sinful, for instance, when it is inordi
nate. Our affection for any creature is inordinate
and sinful, when we love that creature more than
we love God ; for he requires the first place in our
affections, and forbids us to prefer any object to
him. Agreeably, we find most awful punishments
denounced upon Eli, because he preferred his sons
to God. But all parents naturally love their child
ren far more than they love God. Hence they
take more pains to gratify them than they do to
please God. Hence they are unwilling to part with
them, when he calls, and often feel unreconciled
and murmur, when he takes them away. Hence
too, they are often so much engaged in acquiring
wealth for their children, and in promoting their
temporal advancement, that they neglect many of
the most important duties which God requires them
to perform. Now, when such are the effects of
parental love, that love is evidently inordinate and
sinful.

NOT HOLINESS. 209
Again — affection for our children becomes sinful,
when it takes a wrong direction. Such a direction
it takes, when it leads us to prefer their bodies? to
their souls ; to seek their present, rather than their
future happiness ; to indulge their sinful propensi
ties, rather than give them pain by restraining and
correcting them. Yet such, in a considerable de
gree at least, are the invariable effects of parental
love in those parents, who are not influenced by
religion. Such parents show no more concern for
the souls and eternal happiness of their offspring,
than irrational animals. They neither pray for
them, nor give them religious instruction, nor set
before them a religious example. Surely, no one,
who believes the Bible, need be told, that such con
duct is both highly irrational and exceedingly
sinful. Lastly — parental affection is sinful, when it is
not prompted by right motives. It ought to pro
ceed from a regard to the appointment and will of
God. We ought to look upon them from their
birth, not as mere play things — to love them, not
as irrational animals do, but as rational and ac
countable creatures. We ought to love them for
God's sake, because they are his creatures, because
he gave them to us to be educated for him, and
trained up for heaven. In a word, we ought to
love them with a holy love, and because he requires
it. But after what has been said, it is almost need
less to remark, that no parents naturally love their
children in this manner. Of course, there is
27

210 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
nothing morally good, and there is much that is mor
ally wrong, in their parental affection. Hence it is
evident, that the affection of the animal soul needs
to be sanctified, or brought under the controlling
influence of religion. It must be sanctified, or we
cannot be universally holy. And from the pre
ceding remarks it will be easy to learn in what this
sanctification consists, and what will be its effects.
It is sanctified, when it is prompted by right motives,
when it takes a right direction, and when it is kept
in due subordination to the will of God. When
this is done, we shall love our children as God's
gifts, and for his sake. We shall prefer him to
them. We shall feel ready to resign them, when
he calls ; and if he takes them away, our sorrow
for their loss will have no mixture of repining or
discontent. While they are spared to us, we shall
make it our chief concern to educate them for God
and heaven ; their souls will receive a much great
er share of our attention than their bodies ; we
shall be far more anxious for their eternal, than
their temporal welfare ; and to secure it, will be the
principal object of all our exertions respecting
them. Those, whose affection for their children is
not thus regulated and directed, may be certain,
that it is not yet sanctified, that it is sinful in the
sight of God, and that they are very far from being
such parents, as he approves. And yet they may
feel very well satisfied with themselves ; they may
regard themselves as patterns of parental goodness,
and even hope that God will reward them as such..

NOT HOLINESS. 21 1
Such is the blindness and deceitfulness of the hu
man heart.
The second affection of the animal soul, which I
shall mention, is that pain, which is excited by
seeing our fellow creatures in distress, and that
instinctive desire, which we feel, to relieve them.
This affection is called sympathy, pity, and com
passion. I infer, that it belongs to the animal part
of our nature, from the fact, that many species of
irrational animals often appear to feel it in a very
high degree ; and from the equally well known
fact, that it is usually felt most strongly by children
at a very early age, before the developement of
their intellectual powers, and while they can scarce
ly be considered as rational beings. And in persons
farther advanced, it seems to be a merely animal
instinct ; for it is not guided by reason, and often
operates partially and capriciously. Many persons,
for instance, who are painfully affected by the sight
of bodily suffering, seem to feel no compassion for
the mental sufferings of their fellow creatures ; and
in others, who boast much of their sensibility, it
seems to defeat the very end, for which it was
given, by rendering them unable to support the
sight of keen distress, and impelling them to fly
from their suffering friends, when they most need
their assistance. Indeed, many plead this as an
excuse for neglecting to visit the sick and necessi
tous, and for leaving their friends, when any painful
surgical operation is to be performed. They urge
that their sensibility is too exquisite, that their

212 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
feelings are too easily affected, to allow them to
witness such scenes, or to perform such duties.
We may add, that the same persons, when provok
ed, are often cruel, and feel no pity for the
sufferings of those, who have offended them. What
is still worse, they feel no compassion for the souls
of men ; no grief, in view of the future miseries, to
which sinners, are exposed ; nor will they make the
smallest exertion to save them from these miseries.
If a friend or relative is sick of a mortal disease,
and, unconscious of his danger, is flattering himself
with hopes of a speedy recovery, they will not
speak a word to undeceive him, and perhaps will
not even allow others to do it, lest it should give
him pain. Supremely selfish, even in their sensi
bility, they leave him to discover his danger, when
too late, to die unprepared, rather than perform
the painful duty of warning him, that death is ap
proaching. How widely this pity or compassion,
if it deserves the name, differs from that, which
glowed in the bosom of our Saviour, no one, who
has read the New Testament with attention, needs
be informed. It is true, he pitied the coporeal
sufferings, which he witnessed, and was ever ready
to relieve them ; but it is equally true, that he felt
and displayed incomparably more compassion for
their perishing souls. It was to save them, that he
came from heaven*. It was to save them, that he
shed, not tears only, but blood. He bore their sins
in his own body on the tree, and freely consented
to be wounded for their transgressions, to be

NOT HOLINESS. 213
bruised for their iniquities, and to pour out his soul
unto death, that they might live. His compassion
evidently differed very widely from that blind in
stinct, that animal affection, which we dignify with
the name. It was benevolence viewing misery,
and willing to make that misery its own, not merely
by sympathising with it, but by actually bearing it,
that the miserable might escape.
Nor was his sensibility blunted, as ours often is,
by familiarity with scenes of suffering, or by the
criminality of the sufferers. It is evident, then,
that our natural sympathy, amiable as it appears,
necessary as it is, needs to be sanctified, and that
until it is sanctified, it has nothing in it of moral
goodness, or true benevolence. Before it can lay
any just claim to these titles, it must be made to
resemble the compassion of our Saviour. It must
cease to be capricious, partial, and selfish in its
operations. It must make us willing to deny our
selves, and to suffer pain, inconvenience,- and
provocation, for the sake of alleviating the distresses
of others. It must be excited by the sufferings of
our enemies, as well as those of other men. Above
all, it must be excited chiefly by the miseries, to
which the souls of men are exposed ; and enable
us, when viewing our unconverted relatives, to say
with Paul, I have great heaviness and continual
sorrow in my heart, for my brethren, my kinsmen
according to the flesh. So far only, as we can
truly say this, are our natural sensibility and sym
pathy sanctified. And if they are not thus sanctified,

214 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
in some degree, at least, in vain shall we pretend
to belong to the merciful, who shall obtain mercy
of God, or claim any relation to our Saviour ; for
if any man have not the spirit of Christ, he is none
of his. And if there is any thing in the spirit of
Christ, by which he was peculiarly distinguished,
it was compassion for the souls of men.
There are • two other marks, by which we may
be assisted in ascertaining how far our natural
sympathies are sanctified. Merely natural sympa
thy usually declines, as men advance in years ; so
that, if they live to old age, it becomes almost
extinct. But when it is sanctified, it not only con
tinues, but increases in proportion to the christian's
religious advancement. In this case it is truly
beautiful to see the affectionate sensibility of youth
united with the experience, firmness, and mature
wisdom of age ; to see the veteran disciple, who
has learned to endure hardness as a good soldier
of Christ, putting on bowels of mercies, tenderness
and gentleness of mind, to see the same tree adorn
ed at once with the blossoms of spring and the
fruits of autumn. The second mark of sanctified
sympathy, is a disposition to participate in the joys,
as well as sorrows, of our fellow creatures. This
the scriptures require. They command not only
to weep with those who weep, but to rejoice with
those who rejoice. This command we shall obey,
so far as our natural affections are sanctified. We
shall make the happiness of others our own. But
merely natural affection will not lead to this. On

NOT HOLINESS. 215
the contrary, it will often lead us to envy those,
who are more prosperous than ourselves, to repine
at their prosperity, especially if they are our rivals,
and to wish that some calamity may befall them.
He, in whom this disposition is subdued, he, that
can truly rejoice in the happiness of those who do
not love him, may safely conclude that he has made
advances in the work of sanctification.
Thirdly — What is commonly called the natural
temper, or disposition, seems to belong chiefly to
the animal soul. I say, chiefly, for some of the
passions, which affect the temper, such as pride,
ambition, avarice, envy, malice, and revenge, evi
dently belong to the spirit, or immortal part ; for
we are taught, that evil spirits, who have no animal
soul, are subject to these passions. But setting
these passions aside, there is something in the na
tural temper or disposition of men, which may be,
and which indeed often is, called constitutional.
In this respect different persons differ very widely,
even from their birth. Some appear to be consti
tutionally timid, mild, gentle, quiet, affectionate,
and yielding ; while others are bold, boisterous,
restless, irritable, and obstinate. In a word, some
have naturally an amiable, and others an unamiable
temper. Now that this difference of temper de
pends upon the animal soul, appears, to say the
least, highly probable from the fact, that we find a
similar difference among irrational animals, even
among those of the same species. For instance,
among the domestic animals, which are employed

216 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
by man, there seems to be as great a diversity
of natural temper, as is found among human be
ings. Some are quiet, mild, gentle, and tracta
ble. Others, of the same species, are irritable,
quarrelsome, and perverse. What renders it still
more probable, that the temper belongs to the ani
mal soul, is the well known fact, that it seems to
be much affected by the state of the health. Per
sons, who, while in good health, appear to be mild,
affectionate, and contented, will often, when as
sailed by disease, become peevish, fretful, irritable
and querulous. This is especially the case with
children, who are less careful, than older persons,
to conceal their feelings. Now every one will
probably acknowledge, that when the temper is
naturally unamiable and bad, it needs to be sancti
fied. When persons of such a temper profess to
have become christians, an amelioration of their
temper is always expected. This is, perhaps, one
ofthe first proofs of their sincerity, for which their
acquaintance look ; and if it is not found, their
-professions are naturally supposed to be insincere.
^On the contrary, when a great and obvious change
for the better is* witnessed in the temper of such
persons, their sincerity is usually acknowledged,
and religion is honored. This being the case, it is
evidently of very great importance, that those pro
fessing christians, whose temper is naturally bad,
should pay the strictest attention to this subject,
and make it their chief concern to have their
temper sanctified by divine grace. Until this is

NOT HOLINESS. 217
done, they can neither possess themselves, nor exhib
it to others, satisfactory evidence of their sincerity,
nor can they adorn the religion, which they profess.
Indeed, they will not fail to dishonor it, and cannot
be either useful, consistent, or happy. As persons,
who have such a temper, are not unfrequently bold,
resolute, and unyielding, it is easy for them to be
firm, zealous, and courageous in the cause of
Christ, and they may easily mistake their constitu
tional courage for holy boldness and christian zeal.
But let them beware of this mistake. Let them
not conclude they have made much progress in the
work of sanctification, until their zeal and boldness
are guided by knowledge, tempered with gentleness
and prompted by love ; nor until they habitually
possess and exercise a kind, affectionate, meek,
humble, contented and quiet spirit. When this is
done, they will resemble their Master, who united
in himself the apparently inconsistent qualities of
the lion and the lamb, the serpent and the dove, —
and will be of all christians the most amiable, ex
emplary, and useful.
But while all will allow, that a naturally bad
temper needs to be thus sanctified, there are many
who by no means suppose, that tempers naturally
amiable equally need sanetification. But if we
take the scriptures for our guide, a little reflection
will convince us, that this is actually the case.
The scripture teaches, that, without holiness, no
man shall see the Lord. But there is nothing
of the nature of holiness in a naturally amiable
28

218 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
temper. Holiness consists in a conformity to the law
of God. But persons, who possess the temper of
which we are speaking, naturally pay no more re
gard to the law of God than others do. They are not
gentle, kind, and affectionate, because God requires
them to be, or because they wish to please him ;
for they often live without God in the world. They
do not naturally love prayer, or the Bible, or the
Saviour, or any part of religion ; but it is as diffi
cult to draw their attention and affections to these
subjects, as it would be if their tempers were un-
amiable. The young ruler, who asked our Saviour
what he should do to inherit eternal life, evidently
possessed a naturally amiable disposition. Yet
when Christ said to him, Take up thy cross and
follow me, he was no more willing to obey, than
were the scribes and pharisees. Hence we find,
that when our Saviour asserted the necessity of
regeneration, repentance, and faith, he represented
them as alike necessary to all, and made no excep
tion in favor of amiable characters. It is therefore,
evident, that, in his view, such characters need
sanctification no less than other men. Their nat
ural affections must be christianized, if I may so
express it, or baptized by the Holy Spirit, before
they can possess any thing of the nature of true
religion. Until this is done, they are no more
christians, merely for possessing such affections,
than an animal of a mild and tractable disposition
is a christian. And besides this general radical
defect of such characters, which consists in an en-

NOT HOLINESS. 219
tire want of true holiness, they are subject to many
particular defects ; defects, which often attend
them even after they become christians. They
are often constitutionally timid, irresolute, and
easily prevailed upon by solicitations to do what
they know, or, at least, suspect to be wrong. To
these solicitations, they find it very difficult to say,
no — with firmness, and to obey the precept, which
says, JMy son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou
not. Nor do they usually display much zeal and
courage, in doing good, or in maintaining their
Master's cause. Many of them also are constitu
tionally indolent : Hence, if they become christians,
they are often slothful christians. Like the slug
gard mentioned by Solomon, they are too ready to
say, There is a lion in the way ; and the fear of
man, a fear of giving offence, often entangles them
in a snare. Often too, they forget or neglect the
rule of being just before they are generous ; and,
prompted by natural temper, give away what is not
theirs to give. If they do not become christians,
these defects prevail in their character in a still
greater degree, and often prove their ruin, both for
this world and the next. A large proportion of
those, who fall a prey to dissipation, gaming, in
temperance, and debauchery, are of this class.
They are, at first, led into these vices by the ex
ample and solicitations of their companions, which
they have not sufficient strength of mind to re
sist ; and afterwards continue to practice them
through habit. If they escape this snare, and

220 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
maintain a correct moral character, they are in
danger of falling into other errors, hardly less fatal.
As they are commonly much beloved and esteemed,
their company is sought after, and they find them
selves so pleasantly situated in this world, that they
have little leisure or inclination to think of another.
Besides, the good opinion of their fellow creatures,
tempts them to think too highly of themselves, and
to trust in their amiable temper and correct morals,
while they neglect the Saviour of sinners, the only
name under heaven, by which any can be saved.
Surely, then, no one, who regards the scriptures,
can doubt, whether such characters need to be
sanctified by divine grace. And those of them, in
whom this work is begun, need to go on unto per
fection. They must judge of their progress to
wards perfection by the degree, in which they
conquer those sins and errors, to which they have
a constitutional propensity. If they are enabled to
overcome indolence and timidity, and to be zealous,
bold, and diligent in the cause of Christ ; if they
can resolutely resist temptation ; if their natural
mildness and gentleness are exalted into true be
nevolence ; if they become as unwilling to offend
God, as they naturally are to offend their fellow
creatures ; and if they become more and more
sensible of their constitutional failings, and more
solicitous to correct them, — they have reason to
hope, that the work of sanctification is rapidly ad
vancing. I have now mentioned the principal affections of

NOT HOLINESS. 221
the animal soul, and attempted to show, that they
need to be sanctified. It remains to make some
improvement of the subject.
1. What has been said, may throw some light
upon the doctrine of man's entire depravity, and
remove some plausible objections, which are often
urged against its truth. When we say, that men
are entirely depraved, we mean, as I have often
stated to you, that they are entirely destitute of
holiness. They are as destitute of holiness as a
dead man is of life ; and hence they are said by the
inspired writers to be dead in trespasses and sins.
In reply, the adversaries of the doctrine refer us to
parental and filial affection, to that sympathy or
compassion, which seem natural to man ; to the/
amiable tempers, which many seem to possess, and
to the moral actions, which flow from these several
sources. They suppose the existence of these
things proves conclusively, that men are not entire
ly depraved. But it has been clearly shown, if I
mistake not, that there is no holiness in any of
these things ; that we possess them in common
with irrational animals ; that they are, in many
respects, imperfect and sinful, and that they lead
us into many sins. Now if this has been proved,
it evidently follows, that the existence of these ani
mal affections is no proof at all, that men are not
entirely depraved. It has also been proved, indeed
our text clearly proves, that these affections of the
animal soul need to be sanctified, or made holy.
But if they need to be made holy, it is evident,

222 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
that they are not originally holy, but that they are,
on the contrary, depraved, or sinful ; for nothing,
which is not sinful, needs to be made holy.
2. From this subject it appears, that those who
are sanctified, and those who are not, differ very
widely, even in those respects, in which they seem
to be alike. For instance, both classes eat and
drink ; but he, who is sanctified, eats and drinks to
the glory of God, while the unconverted sinner
eats and drinks to gratify himself. Both classes
love their children. But in unsanctified persons,
parental love is a merely animal affection, inordi
nate, wrongly directed, and not subordinate to the
love of God. In those, who are sanctified, on the
contrary, it is a holy affection rightly directed,
regulated by God's law, and in subordination to
his love. Both classes may pity and relieve the
distressed. But the former are led to do this by a
blind animal instinct, which is capricious, irregular,
and partial in its operations ; while the compassion
of the latter is elevated and ennobled by divine
grace, and resembles that, which glowed in the
bosom of our Saviour. Both classes may possess
amiable tempers, and live correct moral lives.
But the amiable tempers of the former, and the
morality, which they sometimes produce, do not
spring from religion ; they are not influenced by
religion ; nor have they any reference either to
God and his law, or to Christ and his gospel. The
temper and morals of the latter, on the contrary,
spring from religion in the heart ; they are the ef-

NOT HOLINESS. 223
fects of God's law written in the heart ; their love
to men flows wholly from love to God ; their
morality is true christian morality, and they are
constrained by the love of Christ to imitate his
example. In short, the governing motives, the
main-springs of action, in the sanctified and un
sanctified man, are totally different ; and since God
looks at the motives, since, in his view, the char
acter of every action is determined by its motive,
it is evident, that the same actions, which are good
when performed by a good man, may be altogether
wrong when performed by a sinner. The sancti
fied, arid the unsanctified may apparently resemble
each other in teiriper and conduct, and yet the
latter may be justly punished, while the former are
rewarded. Hence we see,
3. How greatly and fatally those are deceived,
who found a hope of heaven on their naturally
amiable tempers and moral lives. We have seen,
that these need to be sanctified, and that, till they
are so, they are imperfect and sinful. Those then,
who found their hope on these things, found it on
their sins and imperfections. They found it on
something, which needs pardon, and which cannot
therefore merit reward. St. Paul tells us, that if
any supposed they had something of this kind, in
which they might safely trust, he had more. But,
he adds, what things were gain to me, those' I
counted loss for Christ ; and he proceeds to inform
us, that he counted all his supposed goodness and
morality as mere filth, that he might win Christ.

224 AMIABLE INSTINCTS
O then, let all, who share in Paul's salvation, imi
tate in this respect the example of Paul.
4. This subject may assist us to understand that
memorable declaration of Christ, From him that
hath not shall be taken away even that, which he
seemeth to have. We have seen, that every thing,
which appears to be naturally good and amiable in
sinners, such as parental and filial affection, sym
pathy or compassion, and a sweet natural temper,
belongs to the animal soul. Now this dies with
the body. Nothing survives death, but the immor
tal spirit. Of course, at death, sinners, who have
no grace, no real goodness, will lose all this appar
ent goodness, all those natural affections, which
made them appear amiable here ; and nothing will
remain, but a spirit wholly given up to the power
and rage of malignant passions. Thus from those,
who have no grace, no real goodness or holiness,
will be taken away all which they now appear to
have. O then, be persuaded, ye, who now appear
amiable, to* seek, most earnestly to seek the sanc
tifying grace of God. This alone can render your
apparent goodness real, and cause it to be perma
nent. This alone can stamp on your souls that
image of God, which consisteth in knowledge,
righteousness, and true holiness, and without
which no man shall ever see the Lord.
To conclude— Let me urge all, who profess to
be the disciples of Christ, to aim at universal and
complete sanctification, even to be sanctified
throughout in spirit, in soul, and in body. Re-

NOT HOLINESS. 225
member, that to aim at this, is your indispensable
duty. Regard it too as your privilege. O, how
desirable it is, to be thus universally holy ; to have
the immortal spirit clean and white, the animal
soul without spot, and the body rendered worthy
of such an inhabitant. This, you are taught to
believe, will, at length, be your happy state in
heaven. Will you not, then, strive to make as
near approaches to it, as possible, on earth ? But
the present subject leads me to press upon you,
more particularly, the sanctification of the animal
soul, with its affections. This is one of the prin
cipal seats of depravity. Let it then be one of
your chief objects to have it sanctified. Think it
not sufficient to love your children, unless your af
fection for them be such as has been described.
Think it not sufficient to be compassionate and
sympathising, unless your compassion resemble that
of your Saviour. And be not satisfied with your
temper, until you feel, in full strength, that heaven
born charity, which seeketh not her own.

29

226 THE PROMISED FRUIT

SERMOX XII.
THE PROMISED FRUIT OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS.
ISAIAH, X.III. 11.
HE SHALL SEE OF THE TRAVAIL OF HIS SOUL, AND SHALL BE SATISFIED.
Could any of us have seen what angels saw,
when the Son of God left the bosom of his Father,
and exchanged a throne in heaven for a manger on
earth ; could we have seen him divesting himself of
his glory, laying aside the form of God, assuming
the form of a servant, and appearing on earth, in
the likeness of sinful flesh, with the avowed purpose
of living in poverty, and dying an ignominious,
agonizing, and accursed death, — we should natur
ally have been Jed to exclaim, What adequate
object can he have in view ? What motive can be
sufficiently powerful to induce such a being to make
sacrifices so great, to encounter sufferings so ex
quisite ! This question an apostle has partially
answered. He has informed us, that Jesus Christ
endured the cross and despised the shame for the
sake of the joy set before him. In what this joy
consisted, we may learn from the chapter before us,
and especially from our text. It is here predicted,
that he shall see of the travail of his soul, that is, of
the fruits or effects of his sufferings, and be satis
fied. In the context we are informed what these
fruits will be. He shall justify many, he shall see
his seed, and the pleasure of the Lord shall prosper

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 227
in his hand. The joy set before him, for the sake
of which he endured the cross, and despised the
shame, was then the joy, which would result from
seeing his Father glorified and sinners saved, in
consequence of his incarnation, sufferings, and
death. This, our text declares, he shall see, and
the sight will satisfy him. While contemplating it,
he will feel, that he. is amply rewarded for all his
sacrifices, toils, and sufferings.
My hearers, the prediction in our text has al
ready been partially fulfilled ; it will be fulfilled
in a still greater degree, before time shall end ;
and its complete fulfilment will be witnessed in
eternity. These three assertions we propose to
illustrate, establish, arid improve.
I. The prediction before us has already been
partially fulfilled. Already has our Redeemer seen
much of the fruit of his sufferings. Our once bar
ren world, watered by his tears and his blood, has
already produced a large harvest of righteousness
and salvation. His cross, like Aaron's rod, has
budded and blossomed, and begun to bear precious
incorruptible fruit. From his cross sprang all the
religious knowledge, all the real goodness, all the
true happiness which has existed among mortals
since the fall. On his cross, which, like the ladder
seen by Jacob in vision, unites heaven and earth,
myriads of immortal beings, who were sinking into
the bottomless abyss, have ascended to the celes
tial mansions ; — other myriads, now alive, are
following them in the ascent. In the patriarchs,

228 THE PROMISED FRUIT
prophets, and pious Israelites ; in the apostles, and
other primitive preachers of Christianity ; in the
numerous converts, who, by their instrumentality,
were turned from darkness to light ; in all the truly
pious individuals, who have since existed among
men ; in all the real christians who are now on
earth, our Redeemer has seen the fruits of his suf
ferings. In every real christian now present he
sees one of these fruits, sees a soul, which has been
redeemed by his blood from endless wretchedness
and despair, and made an heir of glory and honor
and immortality. O then, how much, how very
much, has he already seen effected, in fulfilment of
the promise before us ! How many immortal souls
have been plucked as brands from everlasting
burnings ! How many individuals have been in
structed, sanctified, pardoned, comforted, and made
more than conquerors, through him that loved
them ! How many pious families have rejoiced to
gether in his goodness ; how many churches have
been planted, watered, and made to flourish!
How much happiness have the members of all
these churches enjoyed in life, in death, and in
heaven ! What an exceedingly great, and almost
innumerable multitude of happy spirits, redeemed
from among men, are now surrounding the throne
of God and the Lamb ! And even while I speak,
the number of these happy spirits, and the harvest,
which springs from a Saviour's sufferings, is in
creasing. Even while I speak, sinners in different
parts of the world are flocking into the kingdom of

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 229
G.od." Even while I speak, immortal souls, washed
in a Saviour's blood, sanctified by his Spirit, and
just made victorious over the last enemy, death, are
entering heaven from the four quarters of the globe,
and commencing their everlasting song, — Now
unto him that loved us, and washed us from our
sins in his own blood, be glory and dominion for
ever and ever.
And while our thrice blessed Redeemer has thus
seen, and still sees the happiness of human beings
increased by his sufferings, he has also seen, and
still sees the glory of God augmented in an equal
degree. He has seen millions, who were once
enemies to his Father, transformed to friends ; he
has seen millions, who once blindly worshipped
false gods, and ascribed to them the glory of crea
ting, preserving, and governing the world, turning
from their worthless idols to worship the only living
and true God, who made heaven and earth. He
has seen his Father's law obeyed and honored by
multitudes^who, but for him, would have continued
to trample it under foot. He has seen ten thous
and times ten thousand of prayers and ascriptions
of praise, ascending from a world, which, but for
his interposition, would never have offered one of
these acceptable, spiritual sacrifices to his Father.
He has seen the eternal throne surrounded, and
him who sits upon it adored by almost countless
multitudes, who were once dishonoring God on
earth, and preparing to blaspheme him in hell. In
fine, he has seen his religion flying through the

230 THE PROMISED FRUIT
world as on angels' wings, scattering blessings
wherever she comes, and loudly proclaiming peace
on earth, good will to men, and glory to God in the
highest. Surely then, the prediction before us has
already been partially fulfilled.
II. During the period which must elapse before
time shall end, this prediction shall receive a much
more ample accomplishment. That this will be
the case, we might almost venture to predict from
present appearances, even were the scriptures si
lent respecting it. Never since the days of the
apostles have such exertions, as are now witness
ed, been made to extend the triumphs of the cross ;
never has such a grand and powerful combination
of means been employed for this purpose ; never
has the blessing of heaven more evidently attended
human efforts ; never have been seen such clear
and striking indications that a great moral revolu
tion in the world is approaching. If we turn to
the scriptures, we shall find the hopes and expec
tations thus excited abundantly confirmed. We
there find the most explicit predictions, the most
animating assurances of the future universal prev
alence of pure Christianity. All that has been seen,
is but the first fruits of that rich harvest, which our
Redeemer will yet gather in. He who cannot lie
has not only promised, but sworn by himself, that
the Jews and Gentiles shall be brought into the
fold of Christ, that the knowledge of the Lord shall
fill the earth, even as the waters cover the seas ;
that the kingdoms of this world shall become the

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 231
kingdoms of our Lord and Saviour, and that, for
many successive ages, he shall reign triumphantly
over every nation, and kindred, and people. While
predicting this extension of the Messiah's kingdom,
and describing the future glories of his reign on
earth, the sacred writers exhaust all the powers of
language, and burst forth into such poetic, en
raptured strains, as the Spirit of God could alone
inspire. And O, how will our Redeemer see the
effects of his sufferings, when all these glowing
descriptions shall be realized ; when, with benevo
lent delight, he shall glance, his eye over this once
ruined, polluted, wretched world, and see all his
enemies baffled ; ignorance, error, superstition,
vice, and misery banished, his religion every where
enthroned in the hearts of men, the earth filled
with holiness, and happiness, and peace ; while from
fertile plains, smiling villages, flourishing towns,
and populous cities, one universal cloud of incense
ascends before God, and the voice of the whole
human family, as the voice of one man, pours forth
the language of prayer, and praise, and thanksgiv
ing to the Father of all ; and the wide open gates
of heaven are continually thronged by those, who
pour into it from the east and the west, from the
north and the south, to swell the number of its
happy inhabitants, and add new voices to its ever
lasting songs ! What countless myriads will then
be saved ! How gloriously will salvation triumph .r
How will God be glorified, how will the fruits of
holiness abound, when all: those parts of the world,

232 THE PROMISED FRUIT
which are now a moral wilderness, shall become as
Eden, and the whole earth be made as the garden
of God. And how will human happiness be in
creased, when generation after generation shall
taste the felicity of heaven, during a long life on
earth ; and then, by an easy and peaceful death,
be removed to the mansions of eternal rest.
III. But it is to the final consummation of all
things, it is to eternity, that we must look for the
complete fulfilment of this animating prediction.
Not till then will the great work of redemption be
finished ; not till then . will our Redeemer see so
much of the fruit of his sufferings, as is necessary
to satisfy him. But then he will see all, that is
here promised ; all, that he ever expected to see ;
all, that is wanting to render him perfectly satisfied.
He will then see the bodies of all his people raised
from the grave, glorious, incorruptible, immortal,
and perfectly resembling his own ; for, says an
apostle, addressing christians, he shall change our
vile bodies, and fashion them like unto his own
glorious body, according to the working of that
mighty power, by which he is able to subdue even
all things to himself. .
Then will his triumph over death and the grave
he complete. Then, as inspiration expresses it,
death will be swallowed up of victory. Then, too,
our Redeemer will see all his chosen people as
sembled around him, perfect in holiness, and
perfectly happy in the contemplation of his glory
and the enjoyment of his presence. For this he

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 233
prayed just before his crucifixion. Father, said he,
I will that those whom thou hast given me, be with
me where I am, that they may behold my glory.
He cannot then be entirely satisfied, till this prayer
is answered in its full extent, till every one whom
the Father has given him is brought home to glo
ry. At the period, to which we refer, and not till
then, will this be done. The last redeemed sinner
will then have exchanged earth for heaven, and
have begun to gaze with rapture on the unveiled
glories of his Redeemer.
Finally — Our Saviour will then see the great
work, for the accomplishment of which he died,
completed. He will see that spiritual edifice, the
foundation of which was laid in his blood, which
has been so long erecting, standing before him fin
ished, resplendent in glory, and perfect in beauty.
Says an apostle, Christ loved the church, and
gave himself for it, that he might sanctify and
cleanse it with the washing of water by the word,
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. The church which Christ thus loved, and
for which he gave himself, is called his body. All
who compose it are styled his members. Now un
til the last member of this mystical body is raised
to heaven, and fixed in its destined place, the body
itself will not be perfect and complete, and, of
course, Christ its head will not be satisfied. But
when that is done, his satisfaction will be complete.
30

234 THE PROMISED FRUIT
Then all his members will be fixed forever in the
place, which he is now preparing for them, in a
state of absolute perfection — perfection in knowl
edge, and holiness, and happiness. And O, what
tongue of man can describe, what finite mind can
conceive, the enrapturing sight, on which the eye
of our Redeemer will then rest ! He will see an in
numerable multitude ot immortal beings, with ca
pacities like those of angels, reflecting in body and
in mind, his own spotless, glorious image, no less
perfectly than the polished mirror reflects the daz
zling image of the noon day sun. He will see them
all filled to overflowing, with unutterable felicity,
and glowing, like the seraphs around them, with
burning love and melting gratitude to him, who re
deemed them by his blood. He will see them cast
ing their eyes downward to contemplate the lake
of fire, the everlasting burnings, from which they
have been thus redeemed, and then raising them
to gaze on their Deliverer, with emotions, which
even the language of heaven cannot express, but
which he can read in their swelling, and almost
bursting hearts. He will see them, in holy trans
ports of affection and humility, casting themselves
and their crowns at his feet ; hear them cry, with
a voice like that of many waters, and of mighty
thunderings, Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipo
tent reigneth ! Blessing, and glory, and honor, and
power, be unto him that sitteth on the throne, and
to the Lamb forever and ever. Stretching his om
niscient eye through eternity, he will see them en-

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 235
joying all this happiness, and ascribing all this glo
ry to God, during its endless ages ; their minds
continually expanding, their faculties enlarging, and
their souls drinking in more and more of that ful
ness of the Godhead, the whole of which they can
never contain. And while he sees all this, he will
see, that, but for his sufferings and death, all these
immortal beings, now so holy, so glorious, so happy,
would have been sinners, demons, fiends, doomed
to drink forever of the fierceness of the wrath of
Almighty God, which is poured out without mix
ture into the cup of his indignation. All this, and
much more than this, much more than man or an
gel can describe, he will see, and while he sees
it, will exclaim, Father, it is enough ; thy promise
is fulfilled ; I am satisfied.
Permit me now, my hearers, to lead your atten
tion to some reflections, which our subject natural
ly suggests, and which will, I trust, be found to
have an intimate connection with the object* for
which we are now assembled.
1. How great, how glorious, how worthy of its
Author, does the work of redemption appear, when
viewed in the light of this subject. If it was a
work worthy of God, to create the world ; if it is
a work worthy of God, to preserve and govern the
world, much more was it a work worthy of him to
redeem the world. If his infinite perfections were

*This Sermon was preached at the first meeting of the Foreign
Missionary Society of the County of Cumberland, Auxiliary to the
American Board.

236 THE PROMISED FRUIT
ever called into action by an adequate motive, it
was when they were called to exert themselves in
effecting the salvation of a self-destroyed race of
immortal intelligences, and to promote the glory of
his great name in effecting it. The accomplish
ment of such a work as this was a motive, which
might well bring down the Son of God from heav
en, and carry him through all his toils, and sup
port him under all his sufferings. His toils and
sufferings were indeed inconceivably great ; but
so was the object which he had in view ; and so
was his promised reward, the joy set before him.
2. What conceptions is this subject suited to
give us of the happiness, which is now enjoyed,
and which, through eternity, will be enjoyed by
our divine Redeemer ! You have all, my friends,
heard much of the happiness of heaven. Those
of you, who are christians, know something of it
experimentally ; for you have tasted the first fruits
of the heavenly inheritance. Your conceptions of
it are, indeed, exceedingly inadequate, but you
know it to be great. Estimate, then, as far as you
are able, the amount of happiness, which a single
individual will enjoy in heaven, during a whole
eternity. Proceed to multiply this amount of hap
piness by the almost countless number of the re
deemed. Then recollect, that Jesus Christ has
said, it is more blessed to give than to receive ;
that is, there is more blessedness, or happiness, in
giving, than in receiving. Now Jesus Christ gives,
and saints and angels receive, all the happiness,

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 237
which creatures will ever enjoy in heaven. Of
course, as the giver of this happiness, is more bles
sed, more happy, than all the receivers, could
we then concentrate in one bosom all the happi
ness, which is enjoyed by all the saints and angels
in heaven, it would still be inferior, far inferior to
that, which is enjoyed by Jesus Christ alone.
Christian, does not your heart exult to hear of the
happiness which your Saviour enjoys ? Does it
not labor, and swell almost to bursting, while vain
ly attempting to fathom that bottomless tide of fe
licity, which, every moment pours, and through
eternity will continue to pour, all its fulness into
his infinite mind !
3. In the light of this subject how great, how
lovely does our Saviour's benevolence appear ? It
is to his benevolence alone, that his happiness is to
be ascribed. It is the benevolent mind only, which
finds more happiness in giving than in receiving.
Of course, if our Saviour were not benevolent, he
would never place his happiness in making others
happy. He would be far from being satisfied, far
from feeling that he is amply rewarded for all his
toils and sufferings, by seeing others enjoy the
fruits of them. But this it appears, does satisfy
him. All the reward which he expected, all which
he desires is, the satisfaction of seeing God glori
fied, and sinners saved. Here then is perfect dis
interested benevolence, benevolence worthy of him
whose name is love.
And now, my hearers, permit me to apply these

238 THE PROMISED FRUIT
remarks to the object for which we are assembled.
This object is, as you are all aware, to unite our
efforts, and afford our assistance, in extending the
benefits of redemption, in carrying on the great
work of man's salvation. We have seen that this
is the noblest of God's works, a work, which
is every way worthy of himself. To be em
ployed as a willing instrument in carrying on this
work, is then the greatest honor, which God can
confer on man. Would you not think it an hon
or to be employed by God in creating a world ?
Would you not think it an honor to be employed
by him in preserving and governing a world ?
But greater, far greater is the honor of being em
ployed as a co-worker with God in saving a world.
This honor have all his saints. This honor we
are invited to share.
Again — We have seen, that, with the promotion
of this work, our Saviour's enjoyment of his prom
ised reward is connected. In proportion as this
work advances, his satisfaction increases. And
does not this fact furnish all who love him with a
powerful motive to exertion ? Professed disciple
of Jesus Christ, do you love, do you wish to grati
fy your Master, your Redeemer ? Is it the lan
guage of your heart, what shall I render to my
Lord for all his benefits ? If so, this is the ans
wer, Labor to promote *that cause, which lies so
near his heart ; that cause, for which he shed his
blood. Labor and pray, that the Saviour may see
more and more of the fruit of his sufferings. While

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 239
doing this, you will, in effect, be employed by God
as a hand, to convey to him a part of his promised
reward. And what employment can be more hon
orable, more delightful, more congenial with the
best and strongest feelings of every Christian's
heart !
Farther, we have seen that this subject exhibits,
in the clearest light, our Saviour's disinterested be
nevolence. We have seen, that the joy set before
him, for the sake of which he endured the cross
and despised the shame, was the joy, not of exalt
ing or of enriching himself, but of communicating
happiness to others. This, this, was all the re
ward, which his benevolent heart desired, for labors
and sufferings unexampled. In this, as in other res
pects, his example is proposed to us for our imita
tion. And imitate it we must, if we would prove
that we are his disciples ; for if any man have not
the Spirit of Christ he is none of his. I repeat it,
if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none
of his. No, the man who does not possess and ex
hibit some portion of the Saviour's disinterested,
self-denying benevolence, of his compassion for
immortal souls, of his readiness to labor and suffer
for their salvation, is not, cannot be, a Christian.
He may be any thing else, but he cannot be a
Christian. Nor can he be a disciple of Christ, who
would not feel himself amply rewarded for all his
exertions by the pleasure of seeing them crowned
with success. This reward will, as we have seen,
satisfy our Saviour. Surely then, it ought to sat-

240 THE PROMISED FRUIT
isfy us. And this reward, all, who cordially engage
in promoting his cause, shall receive. For the Sa
viour must be satisfied. God has said it, and it
must be done. He must have the heathen for his
inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth
for his possession. As sin has reigned unto death,
so must grace reign through righteousness unto
eternal life by Jesus Christ our Lord. Talk not of
difficulties. What are difficulties to omnipotence ;
to him, who speaks and it is done ; who com
mands, and it stands fast ; and who can cause a
nation to be born in a day ? All then, who cordi
ally engage in this work, may engage in it with the
certainty, that they shall not labor in vain. As cer
tain as it is that the Saviour shall not lose his re
ward, so certain it is, that they shall not lose theirs.
His interest and theirs are inseparably united ;
when he is satisfied, they will be satisfied. Nor
will his faithful servants be required to wait long
for their promised reward. Not very far distant,
probably, is the period, when our Redeemer shall
see the promise before us fulfilled in its utmost ex
tent. Already do we witness no equivocal indica
tions, that its complete fulfilment is approaching.
Already has the day of millennial glory begun to
dawn. Already has the day star been seen from
mountains of the East. Already are "blest voices"
heard exclaiming from heaven, Now is come sal
vation,, and strength, and the kingdom of our God,
and the power of his Christ ; and we have no small
reason for hoping, that, before the conclusion of

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS- 241
the present century, the same blest voices will be
heard to cry, Alleluia, the kingdoms of this world
are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his
Christ, and he shall reign forever and ever ! My
hearers, when this period shall arrive, will it not be
in the highest degree painful and mortifying to be
constrained to say, the long predicted, long expect
ed hour is at length come, but I have done nothing
to hasten its arrival. My Saviour has gathered in
his promised harvest, but none of the seed, which
produced it, was sown by my hand, or watered by
my tears ! If you would not be the subjects of
reflections so mortifying, seize the precious oppor
tunity, which is afforded you, of committing your
seed to the earth, so that hereafter, when he who
soweth, and he who reapeth shall rejoice together,
you may participate in the joy of your Lord.
Let no one attempt to excuse himself by saying,
My services are not wanted. Let no one say,
Since God has promised; that his Son shall see of
the travail of his soul and be satisfied, we may
safely sit still, and leave him to fulfil this promise.
He will indeed fulfil it, but he will fulfil it by hu
man agency. And before it can be fulfilled, before
every enemy can be put under our Saviour's feet,
many exertions must be made, much treasure ex
pended, and many battles fought. Satan, the prince
and god of this world, will not resign his usurped
dominion without a struggle. The more clearly he
perceives, that his time is short, the greater will be
his wrath, and the more violent his efforts. During
31

242 THE PROMISED FRUIT
that portion of time, which yet remains, the war
which he has long waged with the Captain of our
Salvation, will be carried on with unexampled
fury. If you would survey the progress and result
of this war, cast your eyes over the world, which
is to be at once the field of battle, and the prize Of
victory. See the earth filled with strong holds and
high places, in which the prince of darkness has
fortified and made himself strong against the Al
mighty. See all the hosts of hell, and a large
proportion of the inhabitants, the power, the wealth,
the talents, and influence of the world ranged
under his infernal standard. See his whole artillery
of falsehoods, sophistries, objections, temptations,
and persecution, brought into the field, to be em
ployed against the cause of truth. See ten thous
and pens, and ten- times ten thousand tongues,
hurling his poisoned darts among its friends. On
the other hand, see the comparatively small band
of our Saviour's faithful soldiers drawn up in oppo
sing ranks, and advancing to the assault, clothed
in panoply divine, the banner waving over their
heads, while in their hands they wield unsheathed
the sword of the Spirit, the word of God, the only
weapon, which they are allowed, or wish, to em
ploy. The charge is sounded, the assault is
made, the battle is joined, — far and wide its fury
rages ; over mountains and plains, over islands
and continents, extends the long line of conflict ;
for a time, alternate victory and defeat wait on
either side. Now, exulting acclamations from the

OF CHRIST'S SUFFERINGS. 243
christian army proclaim the fall of some strong
hold of Satan. Anon, infuriated shouts from the
opposing ranks announce to the world, that the
cause of Christ is losing ground, or that some
christian standard bearer is fallen. Meanwhile, far
above the noise and tumult of the battle, the
Captain of our salvation sits serene, issuing his
commands, directing the motions of his followers,
sending seasonable aid to such, as are ready to
faint, and occasionally causing to be seen the
lighting down of his own glorious arm, before which
whole squadrons fall, or fly, or yield themselves
willing captives. Feeble, and yet more feeble still,
gradually becomes the opposition of his foes.
Loud, and yet louder still, rise the triumphant ac
clamations of his friends, till at length, the cry of
Victory ! victory ! — resounds from earth to heaven ;
and, Victory ! victory ! — is echoed back from
heaven to earth. The warfare ceases, — the prize
is won, — all enemies are put under the conquering
Saviour's feet ; the whole earth, with joy, receives
her king; and his kingdom, which consists in
righteousness, and peace and holy joy, becomes
co-extensive with the world. - Such, my hearers, is
the nature, and such will be the termination
and result of the contest, which is now carrying on
in the world. In this contest we are now all en
gaged on the one part or the other ; for in this
warfare there are no neutrals, he that is not with
Christ is against him. Let us all, then, if we have
not already done it, enlist under his banner, and *

244 THE PROMISED FRUIT, &c.
make a common cause with him against a rebel
lious world ; and when he shall appear to judge the
universe, he will say to us, Come, and sit down
with me on my throne, even as I overcame, and
am seated with my Father on his throne.

SERMOW XIII.
MESSIAH'S VICTORY PREDICTED AND DESIRED.
PSALM XLV. 3, 4, 5.
BIRD THY SWQRD UPON THY THIGH, O MOST MIGHTY, WITH THY GLORY
AND THY MAJESTY ; AND IN THY MAJESTY RIDE PROSPEROUSLY BECAUSE
OP TRUTH AND MEEKNESS AND RIGHTEOUSNESS ; AND THY RIGHT HAND
SHALL TEACH THEE TERRIBLE THINGS. THINE ARROWS ARE SHARP IN
THE HEART OF THE KING'S ENEMIES WHEREBY THE PEOPLE FALL UNDER
THEE. In these words the psalmist, led by the Spirit of
truth, addresses Jesus Christ, the great Captain of
our salvation, to whom, as we learn from St. Paul,
this psalm refers. In the first verse, the inspired
author describes the state of his mind, when he
began to pen it. My heart, says he, is inditing a
good matter ; I speak of the things, which I have
made touching the king; my tongue is the pen
of a ready writer. But before he could proceed
farther, the illustrious personage, who was the sub
ject of his meditations, seems to have revealed
himself to his enraptured mind, resplendent in glory,
and pre-eminent in beauty ; so that, instead of
speaking of him, as he had intended, he felt con
strained to address him as present ; and cries out
in an ecstacy of admiration and love, Thou art
fairer than the children of men ; grace is poured
into thy lips ; therefore God hath blessed thee for
ever. The exquisite pleasure, which he felt, while
contemplating this delightful vision, and speaking

246 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
the praises of his Redeemer, naturally excited in
his heart the most fervent desires, that Christ's
kingdom might be extended ; and that others might
be conquered by his grace, and brought to know
one, whose presence produced such fulness of joy.
Hence he cries out, in the language of our text,
Gird thy sword upon thy thigh, O Most Mighty,
with thy glory and thy majesty ; and in thy majesty
ride prosperously, because of meekness and truth
and righteousness, and thy right hand shall teach
thee terrible things. His benevolent prayer was
no sooner uttered, than with the prophetic eye of
faith he saw it answered. He saw this Lord of his
affections, this object of his admiration, this subject
of his praises, riding forth through the world in the
chariot of his salvation, conquering and to conquer ;
and exultingly cries, Thine arrows are sharp in the
hearts of thine enemies, whereby the people fall
under thee.
My professing friends, no man was ever favored
with a view of the glory and beauty of Christ,
without feeling emotions and desires similar to
those here expressed by the psalmist, without being
constrained to pray, as he does, in our text, for the
exertion and the triumph of his all-conquering
grace. For it is impossible to contemplate such a
being, and to know the joy, which his presence
gives, without ardently desiring, that others, and
especially our acquaintance and friends, may share
in our joys. And should he be pleased to favor
any of us with such views of himself, now we are

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 247
assembled professedly to pray for the effusions of
his grace, and to commemorate his dying love, we
shall find no language better suited to express our
feelings and desires, than that, which is employed
by the psalmist in our text. Let us, then, consider
the import of the language, the reasons, why he
employed it, and the happy effects, which are wit
nessed, when the petitions contained in it are
answered. I. The first thing which deserves our attention
in this prayer of the psalmist, is the appellation, by
which he addresses Christ, O thou Most Mighty.
He had, in the preceding verse, celebrated the pre
eminent beauty and loveliness of his person ; Thou
art fairer than the children of men. He had also
noticed his grace and mercy, as a mediator, dis
played in the invitations and promises, which he
uttered ; Grace is poured into thy lips. But as he
was now about to pray for an exertion of his power,
he addresses him by a corresponding appellation,
and calls him Most Mighty.
The propriety of this appellation will not be
questioned, when we consider that with respect to
his divine nature, Christ is the Mighty God ; the
Lord Jehovah, in whose arm dwells everlasting
strength. Nor is it less applicable to him con
sidered as mediator. In this character he is
Immanuel, God with us ; and as such is mighty to
eonquer, and mighty to save. He is mighty to
conquer ; for he has led captivity captive ; he has
conquered sin, and death, and hell — the three most

248 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
formidable enemies, that ever assailed the happi
ness of men, or the throne of God ; enemies, who
have repeatedly foiled, and who laugh to scorn all
power short of omnipotence. Nor is he less mighty
to save ; for he has saved millions from the most
awful fate, in the most desperate circumstances.
He says of himself, I am he that speaketh in right
eousness, mighty to save. Sq say all the inspired
writers. In a word, all power in heaven and earth,
is his ; and he is able to save, even to the utter
most. Let us next consider the import of the petition,
which the psalmist presents to this Most Mighty of
beings. It is, in brief, that he would exert his
might, or the power of his grace, for the conversion
and salvation of sinners. For this purpose, he
prays, 1 . That he would arm himself with the necessa
ry weapons ; Gird on thy sword. Christ has a
sword of justice, and a sword of grace; a sword of
justice, to cut off incorrigible offenders ; and a
sword of grace, to subdue his chosen people, and
make them willing in the day of his power. It is
the latter, which the psalmist here wishes him to
gird on ; and this is his word ; for, says the apostle,
the sword of the Spirit is the word of God. Agree
ably, when St. John beheld him in vision in the
midst of his churches, he saw a sharp two edged
sword proceeding out of his mouth. It is with
propriety, that this word is compared to such a
weapon ; for the apostle informs us, that it is quick,

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 249
or living, and powerful, and sharper than any two
edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder
of the soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow,
and laying open the thoughts and intents of the
heart. It must be observed, however, that this descrip
tion of the word of God is applicable to it, only
when Christ girds it on, and employs it as his sword.
Of what use is a sword, even though it be the
sword of Goliath, while it lies still in its scabbard,
or is grasped by the powerless hand of an infant ?
In those circumstances it can neither conquer, nor
defend, however well suited it might be to do both,
in the hand of a warrior. It is the same with the
sword of the Spirit. While it lies still in its scab
bard, or is wielded only by the infantile hand of
Christ's ministers, it is a powerless and useless
weapon ; a weapon, at which the weakest sinner
can laugh, and against which he can defend him
self with the utmost ease. But not so when he,
who is Most Mighty, girds it on. Then it becomes
a weapon of tremendous power, a weapon resistless
as the bolt of heaven. Is not my word like a fire,
and a hammer, saith the Lord, which breaketh the
rock in pieces ? It is indeed ; for what can be
more efficacious and irresistible, than a weapon
sharper than a two edged sword, wielded by the
arm of omnipotence ? What must his sword be
whose glance is the lightning ? Armed with this
weapon, the Captain of our salvation cuts his way
to the sinner with infinite ease, though surrounded
32

250 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
by rocks and mountains, scatters his strong holds,
and refuges, of lies, and, with a mighty blow,
cleaves asunder his heart of adamant, and lays him
prostrate and trembling at his feet. Since such are
the effects of this weapon in the hand of Christ, it is
with the utmost propriety, that the psalmist begins
by requesting him to gird it on, and not suffer it to
be inactive in its scabbard, or powerless in the
feeble grasp of his ministers.
2. The psalmist, petitions Christ to go arrayed
in his glory and majesty ; that glory and majesty,
With which he then saw him to he clothed. Feel
ing himself deeply impressed and affected by the
view of this glory and majesty, he could not but
hope, that the displays of it would produce similar
effects upon others. As if he had said, Lord, thy
glorious perfections and awful majesty subdue,
overwhelm, dazzle, and delight me, and fill my soul
with admiration, reverence and love ; go then, I
beseech thee, and display them to others ; and
they will *feel constrained to submit to thee, as I
have been, and to acknowledge that thou art fairer
than the children of men, the chief among ten
thousand, and altogether lovely.
, But in what do the glory and majesty of Christ
consist ? I answer, — glory is the display, or man-
ifestation of excellency. Now Christ is possessed
of excellencies or perfections of various kinds ; he
has some excellencies, which belong to him as
God ; some, which belong to him as man, and
some, which are peculiar to him as God and man

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 251
united in one person. Of course, he has a three
fold glory. His glory, as God, consists in a display
of the infinite perfections and excellencies of his
nature. This glory he possessed with his Father
before the world was. His glory, as man, consists
in the perfect holiness of his heart and life. His
glory, as God and man united in one person, the
mediator, consists in his perfect fitness, or suitable
ness to perform all those works, which the office
of mediator requires of him. This is the glory, of
which St. John speaks, We beheld his glory, the
glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of
grace and truth. This is the glory in which Christ
appears, when he goes forth to subdue sinners to
himself; and this, therefore, is the glory which is
meant in our text. If it be asked, in what this
glory more particularly consists, I answer, — it con
sists in a fulness or sufficiency of every excellence
and perfection necessary to qualify him for the all
important office of mediator between God and
man ; every thing, which is necessary, either to
satisfy the justice and honor of God, or to excite
arid justify the utmost love, admiration, and confi
dence of man. Now all this Christ possesses in
perfection. He possesses every thing necessary to
satisfy the justice and secure the honor of God ;
for he has once and again declared, by a voice from
heaven, that in him, or with him, he is ever well
pleased. He also possesses every thing necessary
to excite, encourage, and justify the highest love,
admiration, and confidence of sinful men ; for in

252 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
him all fulness dwells, even all the fulness of the
Godhead. There is in him a fulness of truth, to
enlighten sinners, and lead them to believe in him ;
for in him are hidden all the treasures of divine
wisdom and knowledge. He has also a fulness of
grace, to pardon, sanctify, and save them ; for the
riches of his grace are unsearchable. Now the
display or manifestation of this infinite fulness of
grace and truth constitutes the glory, in which the
psalmist wished Christ to appear. He wished him
also to appear in his majesty. The difference be
tween majesty and glory consists in this ; glory is
something, which belongs either to the person or
the character of a being ; but majesty is more
properly an attribute of office, especially of the re
gal office. This office Christ sustains. He is ex
alted to be a Prince, as well as a Saviour ; he is
King of kings and Lord of lords ; and it is princi
pally in his character of a king, that he subdues
his enemies, and dispenses pardon. The psalmist,
therefore, wished him to appear in this character,
arrayed in all his awful majesty, that while his glo
ry excited admiration, and delight, and love, his
majesty might produce reverential awe, and lead
sinners to submission and obedience.
In the next place, the psalmist prays, that being
thus armed with his powerful sword, and arrayed
in his glory and majesty, Christ would ride forth
through the world, conquering and to conquer. In
thy majesty ride prosperously. There is in these
words an evident allusion to the manner, in which

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 253
monarchs were, in those days, accustomed to go
forth to battle. Arrayed in dazzling armor, and
adorned with all the ensigns of royal dignity, they
ascended a splendid chariot and rode forth at the
head of their armies, to assist friendly, or subdue
hostile nations. In a similar manner the psalmist
wishes Christ, the Captain of our salvation, to go
forth, to deliver his people and destroy his ene
mies ; and in the same word prays for and pre
dicts his success.
A most striking description of him, as going
forth in this manner, we have in the revelation of
St. John. Isaw heaven opened, said he, and be
hold a white horse, and he that sat upon him was
called faithful and true ; and in righteousness doth
he judge, and make war. His eyes were as a
flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns ;
and he had a name written, which no one knew
but himself. And he was clothed with a vesture
dipped in blood, and his name is called the Word
of God. And the armies of heaven followed him,
clothed in fine linen white and clean. And out of
his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he
should smite the nations ; and he shall rule them
with a rod of iron ; and he treadeth the winepress
of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.
And he hath on his vesture and thigh a name writ
ten, King of kings and Lord of lords. With a
similar view of our Redeemer the prophet Isaiah
was favored, when he cried, Who is this that com-
eth from Edom, with died garments from Bozrah :

254 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
this that is glorious in his apparel travelling in the
greatness of his strength ? It is I, the Saviour
answers, I, that speaketh in righteousness, mighty
to save. Such is the glorious personage, whom
the psalmist here addresses, such the manner, in
which he wished him to go forth to war.
II. We proceed now to consider the reasons,
why the psalmist wished the Saviour to go forth
prosperously, and the cause, in which he wished
him to engage. Do this because of truth, and
meekness, and righteousness. This passage may
be taken in two different senses, and it is rather
doubtful which was in the mind of the psalmist.
He might perhaps intend the truth, meekness, and
righteousness of Christ himself ; for all these qual
ities belong to him in the highest degree. He is
the Amen, the Faithful and True Witness, the
way, the truth, and the life ; and when he goes
forth to battle, righteousness is the girdle of his
loins, and faithfulness, or truth, the girdle of his
reins. Meekness is also an eminent characteristic of
Christ. Learn of me, says he, for I am meek and
lowly in heart. Nor is he less distinguished for
righteousness. We have seen in the passage al
ready quoted, that he is one, who speaks in righ
teousness ; and that in righteousness he doth judge
and make war ; and the prophet Isaiah informs us,
that, as a king, he shall rule in righteousness, and
with righteousness judge the poor. If we suppose
this to be the meaning of the psalmist, we must

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 255
understand him as assigning, in these words, the
reason why he wished and prayed for the success
of the Saviour in his glorious expedition. May-
est thou ride prosperously, because thou art true,
and meek, and righteous ; and, therefore, deserv-
est the victory. Or,
2. By meekness, truth, and righteousness, the
Psalmist might mean these qualities in the abstract;
and if this be his meaning, we must understand him
as specifying the cause in which he wished Imman-
uel to engage. He saw that meekness, truth, and
righteousness, were in a great measure banished
from the world ; that the few, who loved and ex
ercised these virtues, were despised and oppressed,
and that error, falsehood, violence, and injustice
almost universally prevailed. In a word, he saw
what the prophet so feelingly describes and la
ments. Men, says he, sin in transgressing and ly
ing against the Lord ; speaking oppression and
revolt, conceiving and uttering from the heart
words of falsehood. And judgment is turned away
backward, and justice standeth afar off; for truth
is fallen in the street, and equity cannot enter.
Yea, truth faileth, and he that forsaketh evil mak
eth himself a prey. For this wretched state of
things the psalmist saw there was no remedy but
in the success of his arms, whose kingdom consists
in righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy
Ghost, and whose design it is, to save all the meek
of the earth. Hence, as a lover of goodness, and
a friend to mankind, he wished and prayed that

256 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
the great Deliverer might ride forth prosperously,
diffusing truth, and meekness, and righteousness
through the land.
III. To enforce his petition, the psalmist pre
dicts the certain success, which would attend Mes
siah, if he thus rode forth to battle. Thy right
hand shall teach thee terrible things ; that is, thou
shalt know experimentally what terrible things thy
power can perform. Hence the church is repre
sented as saying, By terrible things in righteous
ness shalt thou answer us, O God of our salvation.
By these terrible things are intended,
1. The destruction, with which he shall over
whelm his incorrigible enemies. This destruction
the prophet Isaiah described, when he saw him in
vision returning from battle and victory. Why, he
exclaims, art thou red in thine apparel, and why
are thy garments like his, that treadeth the wine
vat ? Because, he answers, because, I have trod
den the wine press alone, and of the people there
was none with me ; for I have trodden them down
in mine anger, and trampled them in my fury, and
their blood is sprinkled upon my garments, and I
have stained all my raiment. This was fulfilled,
when he so terribly destroyed his incorrigible ene
mies,' the Jews, agreeably to his own predictions.
It was fulfilled, when he no less terribly overthrew
pagan, persecuting Rome, and other nations, that
conspired against his church. It is still fulfilled in
the destruction of all, who obstinately reject his of
fered grace, and refuse to submit to his authority ;

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 257
and it will^be still more signally fulfilled in the aw
ful day, when he shall say, Those mine enemies,
that would not have me to reign over them, bring
hither and slay them before me.
2. There are also many terrible things which at
tend, or rather precede, the conquest of those,
whom he makes willing to be his people in the day
of his power. He sends his Spirit to convince them
of sin, of righteousness, and judgment ; sets his ter
rors in dreadful array round about them ; causes
the flaming curse of his broken law to pursue them,
pierces the conscience, and cleaves asunder their
hearts with his sharp two edged sword, beats down
their fancied strength to the earth, and often brings
them to the very verge of despair, before they sub
mit, and cry for mercy. That these are terrible
things indeed to the awakened sinner, none who
have suffered thus need be told ; and such are the
terrible things, which the right hand or power of
Christ performs, when he rides forth to battle,
as the Captain of salvation.
Lastly — While thus beseeching the Redeemer to
ride forth prosperously, and predicting his success,
he seems suddenly to have seen his prayers an
swered, and his predictions fulfilled. He saw his
all conquering Prince gird on his resistless sword ;
array himself in glory and majesty ; ascend the
chariot of his gospel, display the banner of his
cross, and ride forth, as on the wings of the wind,
while the tremendous voice of a herald proclaimed
before him, Prepare ye the way of the Lord ;
33

258 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
exalt the valleys, and level the hills ; make the
crooked ways straight, and the rough prarces plain ;
for, behold, the Lord God comes ; he comes with
a strong hand ; his reward 'is with him, and his
work before him. From the bright and fiery cloud
which enveloped his chariot, and concealed it from
mortal eyes, he saw sharp arrows of conviction,
shot forth oil every side, deeply wounding the ob
durate hearts of sinners, and prostrating them in
crowds around his path, while his right hand ex
tended raised them again, and healed the wounds
which his arrows had made ; and his omnipotent
voice spoke peace to their despairing souls, and
bade them follow in his train, and witness and
share in his triumph. From the same bright cloud
he saw the vengeful lightnings, flashing thick and
dreadful, to blast and consume every thing that
opposed his progress ; he saw sin, and death, and
hell with all its legions, baffled, defeated, and fly
ing in trembling consternation before him ; he saw
them overtaken, bound, and chained to his trium
phant chariot wheels ; while enraptured voices
were heard from heaven exclaiming, Now is come
salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of God,
and the power of his Christ. Such was the scene,
which seems to have burst upon the ravished sight
of the entranced prophet; transported with the
view, he exclaims, Thine arrows are sharp in the
hearts of thine enemies, whereby the people fall
under thee.
And, my friends, permit me to add, that similar

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 259
scenes, though on a smaller scale, are witnessed by
the eye of faith in every place, through which
Christ now rides invisibly in the chariot of his sal
vation. Then the "sword of the Spirit, the word
of God, which, in the feeble hands of his ^minis-
ters, had long seemed like a sword rusting in its
scabbard, or grasped by an infant, becomes a
weapon of resistless energy. Then the arrows of
conviction, which had been vainly aimed, and fee
bly sent, are guided between the joints of the har
ness, and sinners feel them quivering in their
hearts. Then the obdurate and incorrigible ene
mies of Christ are either laid low by the stroke of
death, or blasted and seared by the lightnings of
his vengeance, and left like a withered oak, on
which the bolt of heaven has fallen, to stand na
ked and barren, till the appointed time for cutting
them down and casting them into the fire ! Then
truth, and meekness, and righteousness, which had
long seemed dead, revive, and ignorance, false
hood, and unrighteousness, are compelled to fly.
Then the bonds of sin are burst ; Satan is unable
to retain his captives ; death and the grave lose
their terrors ; joyful acclamations are heard in
heaven, celebrating the return of penitent sinners;
and crowds of those, whom Christ's arrows have
wounded, and his right hand healed again, are
seen flocking around his chariot, shouting the
praises, and extolling the triumphs of their great
Deliverer ; while those, who, like the psalmist, have
been praying and waiting for his, appearance join

260 MESSIAH'S VICTORY
in the song, and exultingly cry, Thine arrows are
sharp in the hearts of thine enemies, whereby the
people fall under thee.
And now, if such are the blessed effects of
Christ^gTprf sence, when he rides forth prosperous
ly, who, that ever saw his glory, can forbear ex
claiming with the psalmist, Gird on thy sword, 0
Most Mighty, and in thy majesty ride prosperously !
And are there not now special reasons to hope, that
this prayer will be answered ? nay, that Christ
has already begun to answer it ? Has he not be
gun, in more than one heart, to give power and
energy to his long inactive sword ? Has he not
begun to shew himself in his glory and majesty to
some of his mourning, waiting people among us ?
Has not the voice of his herald been heard ex
claiming, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make
straight in this desert a high way for our God ?
Do not some parts of this town begin to shake
under the weight of his thundering chariot wheels,
and do not*his arrows of conviction begin to fly
thick around, causing some of the people, who
have hitherto been his enemies, to fall before him ?
Do not some of you, my hearers, already feel
these arrows sharp in your hearts, and does not
his word, which has long assailed you in vain, like
a sword that had lost its edge, now begin to cut
deep, to wound your consciences and lay open
your hearts ? Yes, my friends, we know, and you
know, that these tokens ofthe approach of his pres
ence begin to be seen and felt. Yes, let his church

PREDICTED AND DESIRED. 261
hear and be glad ; let his enemies hear and trem
ble ; he comes, our Prince, our Saviour, our De
liverer comes, riding gloriously in the chariot of
salvation ; comes to bless his people with peace ;
comes to do terrible things, and make bare his om-
nipotent arm. And how do you intend to meet
this majestic Prince, the King of glory, this illus
trious conqueror, should he visit you ? Will you
meet him as an enemy or as a friend ? Will you
fall under his arrows of conviction, or be blasted
by the lightnings of his vengeance ? Alas, at
present many of you can meet him only as ene
mies. His mark is not instamped on your fore
heads ; his protecting blood is not sprinkled upon
the door posts of yourjiouses, to prevent the en
trance of the destroying angel. There is no altar
for prayer erected in your families, to distinguish
you from the heathen, who call not upon his name,
and upon whom, we are told, his fury will be
poured out. Nay, you have not even a seat at his
table, to serve as a visible token that you acknowl
edge him for your friend. Soon will many of you
crowd away from him, though one would think
you should tremble lest he meet you at the door
and ask, why you thus fly from the table of your
Maker and Redeemer. But though now his ene
mies, it is not too late to become his friends. One
great object, on which he goes forth in his chariot
of salvation, is to convert his enemies into friends.
O, then, seek to be found in this happy number.
Cry to him in all the anxiety of alarm, Lord, bend

262 MESSIAH'S VICTORY, &c.
thy course towards me, plant one of thy sharp, but
salutary arrows in my flinty heart, that I rqay fall
under thee, and become one of thy people in this
day of thy power. And let those, who already
feel his arrows in their hearts, beware how they
endeavor to extract them, or permit any hand to
do it but his own. To those, who will apply to no
other physician, he will in due time return to heal
their wounds, and speak peace to their conscien
ces. But remember the time is short. Soon will
the Saviour be gone, and then he that> is unjust,
must remain unjust still, and he that is filthy, must
be filthy still. Now, in a peculiar manner, is the
accepted time, and day of salvation. And we, my
Christian friends, how shall we receive our Prince
and Saviour, should he visit this place ? What
shall we, what can we render to him, who has re
membered us in our low estate, and returned to
visit us with his salvation ? What indeed, but that
offering, which he prizes above all others, a broken
and contrite heart ? Bring to him such a heart.
Shew him the scars, which his arrows of love for
merly made in it. Remind him and yourselves of
the memorable time, when he come to heal the
wound, and speak peace to your consciences.
Let every heart which he has thus wounded and
healed, prepare him room. Let every voice, which
he has tuned to join in the hallelujahs of heaven,
be now heard celebrating his perfections, and pray
ing for his speedy and universal triumph.

SERMOK XIV.
SINNERS ENTREATED TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE.
HEBREWS III. 7, 8.
THE HOLY GHOST SAITH, TO DAY IP YE WILL HEAR HIS VOICE, HARDEN-
NOT YOUR HEARTS.
My brethren, I can think of no introduction to a
discourse on this awakening passage more suitable,
than that often repeated command of our Saviour,
He, that hath an ear, let him hear what the Sp-irit
saith. You are here told what the Spirit saith.
The Holy Ghost saith, — To day, if ye will hear
his voice, harden not your hearts. To sinners of
all ages, in all situations, of all descriptions, to ev
ery one, who hath an ear to hear, or a heart tfcbe
hardened, the Holy Ghost saith, To day, if ye will
hear his voice, harden not your hearts.
The import of this language is so obvious as to
need little explanation. It requires us to hear
God's voice ; to hear it, not merely with the exter
nal ear, but with appropriate feelings of heart, with
faith, love, and obedience. It commands us to do
this to-day, immediately, without the smallest
delay. The import of the language is, if you ever
mean to hear God's voice, if you do not intend to
die without obeying it, you must hear it now. And
what is the voice of God, which we are thus com
manded to hear immediately ? It is that voice, which

264 SINNERS ENTREATED
says respecting Jesus Christ, This is my beloved
Son, hear him ; that voice, which now commandeth
all men, every where, to repent ; that voice, which
says to every child of Adam, My son, give me thine
heart ; come ye out from an unbelieving world, and
be ye separate and touch not the unclean thing,
and I will receive you, and be a Father to you, and
ye shall be my sons and my daughters, saith the
Lord Almighty. The import of all these passages
is, be truly religious, and if you intend ever to be
so, become so to-day ; while yet it is called to-day,
repent and believe the gospel.
This, then, is the great duty enjoined in our text,
the command which we are now to enforce. But
when God speaks to men ; when the Creator
speaks to his creatures ; when the King eternal
speaks to his lawful subjects, and the Holy Ghost
sait^, hear his voice and harden not your hearts
against him, can it be necessary to urge upon you
the duty of immediately obeying his commands?
Alas, my friends, that it should be necessary. But
necessary as it is, it will be in vain to attempt it,
unless divine grace incline you to obey. O, then,
that the God, whose voice you are commanded to
hear, and the Holy Spirit, who now commands you
to hear it, may be present in his powerful influence,
while I attempt to enforce upon you an immediate
compliance with his commands, to press home upon
your consciences the reasons, the motives, which
should induce you to become religious to-day.
Before I proceed to do this let me state, partic-

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 265
ularly, whom I mean to address. It is not the fool,
who says in his heart, there is no God. It is not
the profane scoffer, who, disbelieving the scrip
tures, sneeringly asks, Where is the promise of his
coming ? It is not he, who, having already pre
sumptuously hardened his heart against the truth,
has been given over by the righteous judgment of
God to strong delusions, to believe a lie. Such
characters, if any such are present, I must leave,
where they have wilfully thrown themselves, in the
hands of that God, who is a consuming fire, who
has declared, that he will deal with incorrigible
offenders. It is the young, who are not hardened
through the deceitfulness of sin ; it is those, who,
rationally convinced of the truth and importance of
religion, intend at some future period to embrace
it; those, whose consciences, not yet seared as
with an hot iron, sometimes cause them to tremble,
as did Felix, when they hear of righteousness, tem- '
perance, and the judgment to come ; but who, like
the same Felix, are postponing a compliance with
their convictions to some more convenient season.
Such are the characters, whom I now address, and
upon whom I would press the importance, the ne
cessity, of immediately becoming religious.
The first motive, which I shall set before you
with this view, is the shortness and uncertainty of
life. I urge you to become religious to-day, be
cause you are not sure of to-morrow ; because
to-day is, perhaps, the only opportunity, with which
you will ever be favored. Need I enter upon a
34

266 SINNERS ENTREATED
labored proof of this truth ? Need I remind you,
that you are mortal, that it is appointed to all men
once to die ? Does not the tolling bell almost
daily remind you of this ? Do you not see your
fellow mortals borne, in rapid succession, to their
long home, while the mourners go about your
streets ? Need I tell you, that you are frail, as
well as mortal ; that you must not only die, but
may die soon and suddenly ; that the time allotted
you, when longest, is short, and may prove much
shorter than you are aware ; that many are swept
into eternity, as in a moment, by unexpected cas
ualties ? and that those, who fall victims to diseases,
are in perfect health the day, nay, the hour, before
it assails them ; and that, of course, the full pos
session of health, to-day, is no proof that you will
not be assailed by fatal disease to-morrow ? Who,
let me ask, are the persons, that die suddenly and
unexpectedly ? Are they the feeble, the infirm ?
No, my hearers; observation will tell you, that they
are the youthful, the vigorous, the strong. She will
tell you, that, while the former, like a reed, bend
before the blast and escape, the latter, like the
stubborn oak, brave its fury, and are prostrated.
She will tell you, and the physician will confirm
her remark, that those, who enjoy the most vigor
ous health, are most exposed to many of those
diseases, which arrest their victims by surprise, and
cut short the thread of life, as in a moment. Such
is the wise appointment of him, in whose hands is
our breath, that none may be tempted to abuse

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 267
their health and vigor, by drawing from them en
couragement to postpone preparation for death.
Will you, then, frustrate the design of this appoint
ment ? Will you boast of to-morrow, as if it were
your own, when you know not what a day may
bring forth ? You would pity and condemn the
madness of a man, who should stake his whole
fortune on the turn of a die, without the smallest
prospect of gain. But, my delaying hearers, you
are playing a far more dreadful and desperate
game than this. You are staking your souls, your
salvation on the continuance of life ; on an event
as uncertain, as the turn of the die. You stake
them without any equivalent ; for if life should be
spared, you gain nothing ; but should it be cut
short, you lose all, you are ruined for eternity.
You run the risk of losing every thing dear, and of
incurring everlasting misery — for what ? For the
sake of living a little longer without religion, of
spending a few more days or years in disobeying
and offending your Creator, of committing sins,
which you know must be repented of. And is it
wise, rather is it not madness, to incur such a risk ?
Let the following case furnish the reply. I will
suppose that you intend to defer the commence
ment of a religious life for one year only. Select,
then, the most healthy, vigorous person of your
acquaintance ; the man, whose prospects are fairest
for long life, and say, whether you would be willing
to stake your soul on the chance of that man's life
continuing for a year ? Would you be willing to

268 SINNERS ENTREATED
say, I consent to forfeit salvation, to be miserable
forever, if that man dies before the expiration of a
year ? There is not, I presume, a single person
present, who would not shudder at the thought of
entering into such an engagement, if he supposed
it would be binding. — My delaying hearers, if you
would not stake your salvation on the continuance
of any other person's life, why will you stake it on
the continuance of your own ? Yet this you evi
dently do, when you resolve to defer repentance to
a future period ; for if you die before that period
arrives you die impenitent, unprepared, and perish
forever. O, then, play no longer this desperate
game ; a game, in which millions have staked and
lost their souls ; but if you intend ever to become
religious, begin to-day, for to-morrow is not.
Permit me to enforce these remarks by an in
stance in point. A person, who formerly met with
you in this house, while in the full enjoyment of
youth and health, became convinced of the impor
tance of religion ; and expressed a determination
to attend the next weekly meeting for religious
inquiry. When the day of meeting arrived, she,
however, concluded to defer her attendance till the
following week. But, before the close of that
week, she was in her grave. — It is not for us to
limit the divine mercy, or to say what was her fate ;
but, for aught we can tell, the delay of a week
proved fatal. Permit me to remind you of another
circumstance, which many of you will recollect. I
observed to you on the Sabbath, I think the first

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 269
Sabbath of a year, that perhaps some person might
then be present in God's house for the last time.
The event verified the peradventure. On the fol
lowing Wednesday, one, who had been present on
the Sabbath, was dead. At the ensuing Thursday
evening lecture, I" noticed the circumstance, and
repeated the remark. .Again was it verified. Be
fore the next Sabbath, a person, who had been
present at that lecture, was a corpse. On the next
Sabbath, I mentioned this also, and repeated the
remark a third time ; and the following day, a third
person, who, on the Sabbath, was in perfect health,
expired. My hearers, what has occurred, may
occur again. No person now before me can be
sure, that he will be permitted to revisit this house
of prayer. If, then, you intend ever to become
religious, begin to-day, for to-morrow is not.
This remark suggests a second reason, why you
should not postpone religion to another day. You
cannot properly, or even lawfully, promise to give
what is not your own. Now to-morrow is not
yours; and it is yet uncertain whether it ever will
be. To day is the only time which you can, with
the least shadow of propriety, call your own. To
day, then, is the only time, which you can proper
ly or lawfully give to God. To promise that you
will give him to-morrow, or which is the same
thing, to resolve that you will become religious to
morrow, is to promise what is not yours, and what
may never be yours to give. If then, God deserves
any thing at your hands, if you mean to give him

270 SINNERS ENTREATED
any thing, give him what is your own, and do not
mock him and deceive yourselves, by promising to
give him what you do not possess, and what you
may never possess. If you adopt a different course,
and postpone the commencement of a religious
life till to-morrow, you will, in effect, say, all the
time, that is mine to give, I will give to sin and
the world ; but that time, which is not mine, and
which I have no right or power to give, I will give
to God.
A third reason why you should commence a re
ligious life to-day, is, that if you defer it, though
but till to-morrow, you must harden your hearts
against the voice of God. This our text plainly
intimates. It excludes the idea of any middle
course between obeying God's voice to-day, and
hardening our hearts ; and affirms, of course, that
all, who neglect to do the former, will do the lat
ter. Every sinner present, then, who does not be
come religious to-day, will harden his own heart.
This is evident also from the very nature of things.
God commands and exhorts you to commence im
mediately, a religious life. Now if you do not
comply, you must refuse, for there is no medium.
Here then is a direct, wilful act of disobedience to
God's commands ; and this act tends most power
fully to harden the heart ; for after we have once
disobeyed, it becomes more easy to repeat the
disobedience. But this is not all. If you disobey,
you must assign some excuse to justify your diso
bedience, or your consciences will reproach you,

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 271
and render you uneasy ; if no plausible excuse oc
curs, you will seek one. If none can readily be
found, you will invent one. And when God pro
ceeds to enforce his commands by frowns and
threatenings, and to press you with motives and
arguments, you must fortify your minds against
their influence, and seek other arguments to assist
you in doing it. This also tends most powerfully
to harden the heart. A man, who is frequently
employed in seeking arguments and excuses to jus
tify his neglect of religion, soon becomes expert in
the work of self justification. He is, if I may so
express it, armed at all points against the truth ;
so that in a little time, nothing affects him, no ar
row from the quiver of revelation can reach his
conscience. Urge him to what duty you will, he
has some plausible excuse in readiness to justify
himself for neglecting to perform it. But if, as is
sometimes the case, his excuses prove insufficient,
and his understanding and conscience become con
vinced, that he ought to hear God's voice to-day,
he can avoid compliance only by taking refuge in
an obstinate refusal, or by resolutely diverting his
attention to some other object, till God's commands
are forgotten, or by a vague kind of promise that
he will become religious at some future period.
Whichsoever of these methods he adopts, the pres
ent impression is effaced, and his heart is hardened.
He has engaged in a warfare with his reason and
conscience, and has gained a victory over them.
He has resisted the force of truth, and thus rendered

272 SINNERS ENTREATED
it more easy for him to resist it again. In a
word, he has less religious sensibility ; he has be
come more inaccessible to conviction, and less dis
posed to yield to it, than before. Now this is, pre
cisely, what the Scriptures mean by hardening the
heart. And this, my delaying hearers, is what you
must do, what you will do, unless you become relig
ious to-day. God now commands and exhorts you
to repent, and places before you many powerful
motives and arguments to induce you to obey. If
you do not yield to him, you must resist him. You
must, if I may so express it, brace up your minds
and hearts against the force of the means which he
employs to persuade you. Your spirits must resist
and strive against his. Of course, you will leave
this house more hardened than you entered it ; sal
vation will be placed farther from you, and your
conversion will be rendered more improbable than
ever. O, then, if you intend ever to hear God's
voice, hear it to-day, and do not, by hardening your
selves against it, render it a source of death unto
death to your souls. As a farther inducement to
this, permit me to remark,
First — that if you do not commence a religious
life to-day, there is great reason to fear that you
will never commence it. This is a most important,
as well as a most alarming truth ; and could I per
suade you to believe it, I should feel strong hopes,
that you would comply with the exhortation in our
text; for I venture to assert, that there is no one
thing, which encourages you to neglect religion to

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 273
day, so much as a secret hope, that you shall be
come religious at some future time. Could this
delusive hope be destroyed, could you be made to
feel, that your eternal salvation depends on your
becoming religious to-day, you would scarcely post
pone it till to-morrow. Permit me then to attempt
the destruction of this hope, by showing you how
groundless it is, and how many circumstances com
bine to render it probable, that, if you do not hear
God's voice to-day, you never will hear it. With
this view, I remark, that the very causes, which
induce you to defer the commencement of a reli
gious life, render it highly improbable, that you will
ever become religious. When this duty is urged
upon you, you allege, perhaps, that you are not
able to become religious, or that you cannot give
your minds to it ; or that you have not sufficient
time for it, or you know not how to begin. Now
all these causes will operate with equal force
another day. You will then feel just as unable, or,
to speak more properly, just as unwilling to become
religious, as you do now. When to-morrow arrives
you will, therefore, probably defer repentance to
some future time ; when that time arrives, you will
again defer it; and will continue to pursue this
course till life is spent. Would the work be ren
dered more easy by delay, there might be some
appearance of a reason for deferring it. But it
will not. On the contrary, every day's delay will
render it more difficult. Your hearts, as you have
already been reminded, will to-morrow be more
35

274 SINNERS ENTREATED
hard and insensible than they are now ; your sinful
habits also will be more confirmed ; your conscien
ces will be less tender ; you will be less susceptible
of religious impressions ; in a word, you will have
greater difficulties to overcome, and less disposition
to contend with them, than you have to-day. It is,
therefore, exceedingly improbable, that those who
neglect religion to-day, will attend to it to-morrow.
There is another circumstance, which renders
this improbability still greater. The inspired wri
ters teach us, very explicitly, that, after a time, God
ceases to strive with sinners, and to afford them
the assistance of his grace. He gives them up to
a blinded mind, a seared conscience, and a hard
heart. Thus he dealt with the inhabitants of the
old world. Thus he dealt with the wicked sons of
Eli. They hearkened not to the voice of their
father, says the inspired historian, because the Lord
would slay them. That is, God had determined, in
consequence of their wickedness, to destroy them,
and, therefore, he did not accompany the warnings
of their father with his blessing. Thus he dealt
with the Jews in the time of the prophet Isaiah,
Make the heart of this people fat, and make their
ears heavy, and shut their eyes ; lest they see with
their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand
with their heart, and convert, and be healed. The
same terrible punishment was inflicted on the in
habitants of Jerusalem in our Saviour's time. He
beheld the city, we are told, and wept over it, say
ing, O, that thou hadst known, even thou, at least

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 275
in this thy day, the things which belong to thy
peace ; but now they are hid from thine eyes !
This passage very clearly intimates, that there is a
time, when sinners may know the things of their
peace ; but that, if they suffer that time to pass
without improving it, the things of their peace will
then be hidden from them, and their destruction
will be sure. Hence the apostle exhorts us, in the
context, to take warning from the fate of the Jews,
who hardened their hearts against God's voice, and
thus provoked him to swear in his wrath, that they
should not enter his rest. Hence, also, he informs
us, that now is the accepted time, now is the day
of salvation ; thus plainly intimating, that to
morrow the day of salvation may be past. If then
you, my delaying hearers, harden your hearts to
day, God may seal them up in impenetrable hard
ness to-morrow. If you say, I will not embrace
the offers of salvation to-day, God will say, No
offers of salvation shall be made you to-morrow.
Nor is there small reason to fear this ; for of all the
sins, which men can commit, perhaps no one is
more provoking to God, than that of refusing im
mediately to hear his voice. It is a direct and
wilful act of rebellion against his authority ; it is a
sin committed against light and conviction ; it is
resisting and grieving the Holy Spirit ; it is cruci
fying Jesus Christ afresh ; it is practically saying,
I know that I must, at some period of life, become
religious. It is true death may surprise me, or
God may deny his grace, and leave me to perish, if

276 SINNERS ENTREATED
I delay ; but I choose to encounter this danger, to
incur the risk of losing everlasting happiness and of
suffering eternal misery, rather than hear God's
voice to-day. I will therefore, once more, harden
myself against it ; I will again trifle with his com
mands, again make light of my Saviour's invitations
and walk a little longer in the broad road, sit awhile
longer on the crumbling brink of perdition. This,
O delaying sinner, is the plain language of thy con
duct. Thus strong is the aversion which it
expresses to religion, to the service of God. That
he must be exceedingly displeased with such a
course, must be obvious to your own mind. You
have then, great reason to fear, that your day of
grace has almost expired, that God will soon swear
in his wrath you shall never enter his rest. How
groundless must be your hopes of a future conver
sion ; how small the probability, that, if you refuse
to hear God's voice to-day, you will ever become
religious. You ought to feel as if this were the
only acce'pted time, as if your day of grace would
end with the setting sun, as if all eternity depended
on the present hour, on your immediate obedience
to the voice of God.
But once more, setting aside, for a moment, all
that has been said, suppose tliat you could be sure
of long life, sure of repenting at some future period,
it would still be the dictate of wisdom, as it is of
revelation, to become religious to-day. You ex
pect, if you ever do become religious, to repent of
all your past sins ; for you well know, that, without

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 277
repentance, there is no pardon, no true religion ; of
course, if by postponing religion to-day, you resolve
to commit a few more sins, you expect to repent of
those sins. You are then, while you delay, con
stantly making work for repentance ; you are doing
what you mean to be sorry for ; you are building
up to-day, what you mean to throw down to-morrow.
How irrational and absurd is this ! How foolish,
how ridiculous, does a rational, immortal being ap
pear, when he says, 1 mean to omit some duty, or
commit some sin to-day, but I will be very sorry
for it to-morrow. I will not now hear God's voice,
but I mean to mourn, to be grieved for it hereafter.
My hearers, could you say this to your fellow
creatures without blushing ? How then can you,
without shame, say it to God by your actions ?
What sincerity can there be in such promises ?
How can a man sincerely resolve, that he will to
morrow repent of conduct, which he loves and
chooses to-day ! It cannot be. There is not, there
fore, the smallest sincerity in the delaying sinner's
resolutions of future repentance and amendment.
He has no real intention to become religious at any
future period of his life; and all his promises are
designed merely to quiet his conscience, and pre
vent her from disturbing him in his sinful pursuits.
In every point of view, then, it clearly appears to
be your duty, your wisdom, your interest, to be
come religious to-day.
Thus have I stated some of the reasons, which
should induce you to commence, immediately, a

278 SINNERS ENTREATED
religious life. To crown all, permit me to remind
you, that it is the express command of God. God
now commandeth all men, every where, to repent ;
and the Holy Ghost saith, obey God's command,
hear his voice to-day, and do not harden your
hearts against it. This command, O sinner, I lay
as a terror across thy path. You cannot proceed
one step farther in an irreligious course, without
trampling it under foot ; without practically saying,
God now commands me to repent, but I will not
repent; the Holy Ghost saith, hear his voice to
day, but to-day I will not hear it. If to-morrow's
rising sun finds you out of the narrow way of life,
it will find you where God expressly forbids you to
be, on pain of incurring his severest displeasure.
He has said, rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft,
and stubbornness is as idolatry ; and if you disobey
his voice to-day, you will be guilty both of rebel
lion and of stubbornness. We might almost venture
to say, it would scarcely be more sinful to go away
and commit murder, than to go away and defer re
pentance ; for why is murder a sin ? Because, you
will reply, God has said, Thou shalt not kill. And
has not the same God said, with equal clearness,
Repent now, and believe the gospel? To violate
this command then, is no less a direct act of rebel
lion against God, than it would be to take the life
of a fellow creature. And will you, can you, dare
you, then, be guilty of it ? Have any of you alrea
dy reached such a pitch of impiety and wickedness,
as to dare trample on a known command of God,

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 279
to commit known, wilful, deliberate sin, when he
has assured us, that, if we sin wilfully, after we have
received a knowledge of the truth, there remaineth
no more sacrifice for sin ; but a certain fearful
looking for of judgment and fiery indignation ? My
friends, if any of you dare do this, it is too late to
exhort you not to harden your hearts ; for they are
hardened to the utmost already. I am, however,
aware, that you will not see, or, at least, will not
acknowledge this to be the case. I am aware,
that you always have many excuses in readiness,
to prove that you are not guilty of wilful disobedi
ence. But what will these excuses avail at the
last day ? They may serve to quiet your con
sciences, to harden your hearts and buoy you up
with deceitful hopes now ; but they will answer no
purpose then ; nay, you will not then dare to offer
them ; for God has declared that every mouth shall
be stopped. Besides, you cannot find a single in
stance in the Bible, in which God has ever paid
the smallest regard to the excuses of sinners. We
read of some, who, when they were invited, as you
now are, to the gospel feast, began, with one con
sent, to make excuse. And what was the conse
quence ? God declared that not one of them
should taste it. We read of another, who attempt
ed to excuse himself by pretending that he was not
able to do what his Lord required. And what was
his Lord's reply to this excuse ? Out of thine own
mouth will I judge thee, thou wicked servant.
This, I presume, is the excuse which most of you

280 SINNERS ENTREATED
are now secretly making. You are saying, I do
not become religious to-day, because I am not able ;
and I must wait till God assists me. Of all the
excuses, that sinners can make, this is the most
foolish, the most groundless, the most provoking to
God. If you can make no better excuse than this,
you had much better make none, and say at once,
I will not obey God. Groundless and impious,
however, as this excuse is, I would pay it some
attention, did you really believe it yourselves. But
you do not believe it. . The resolutions and prom
ises, which you often secretly make, that you will
repent to-morrow, or on your dying bed, prove that
you do not believe it ; for none ever resolves or
promises to do what he knows he cannot do.
These promises and resolutions, then, show, that
you suppose yourselves able to repent.
There is another fact, which shews, still more
clearly, that you do not really believe this excuse.
When any important event, an event, which nearly
concerns your present interests, is in suspense, you
always feel anxious. If you have no control over
the event, you feel more anxious. You cannot rest
till it is decided. Suppose, for instance, that your
property, your reputation, or your lives, depended
on the verdict of a jury, over which you had no
control. You would not say, while they were de
liberating, it will avail nothing for me to be anxious ;
I will therefore feel easy and unconcerned. You
could not feel unconcerned ; you would be anxious
till the decision was known. To apply these re-

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 281
marks to the case before us : You know that God
now commands you to repent, and threatens you
with everlasting punishment, unless you obey. You
profess to believe, that you cannot obey without
the assistance of his grace. At the same time
you must be sensible that it is altogether uncertain
whether you will ever receive this assistance ; that
is, altogether uncertain whether you shall not perish
in your sins, as thousands do, while few find the
way of life. Now if you really believed this, you
would be in a state of constant anxiety, until your
destiny was decided ; until you knew, whether you
should obtain divine assistance or not. Shall I be
saved, or shall I perish ? is a question, which you
would be constantly and anxiously asking. But
you do not now ask this question. You do not feel
this anxiety. You are habitually easy and uncon
cerned, a demonstrative proof, that you do not
believe this excuse, that you suppose salvation to
be in your own power. Deceive not yourselves,
then, and insult not God with an excuse, which you
do not really believe, and which, if it were true,
would transfer all blame from sinners to God, and
prove that he alone is guilty of all the wickedness
which is perpetrated by his creatures. He knows
what you can do, and he does command you to
become religious to-day, and you must obey, or
take the consequences. It is painful, my friends,
to address you in this language ; but when I deliver
God's message, I must deliver it plainly : I must,
to the utmost of my power, apply it to your
36

282 SINNERS ENTREATED
consciences, in all its unbending, unaccomodating
strictness; turn it which way we please, it will say
nothing but this, — repent, or you perish. And
what, after all, is there so very irksome, or dis
agreeable, in a religious life, that you should wish
to defer its commencement ? If you must begin
some time, why not begin to-day ? Will you reply,
I know not how to begin ? God's voice, if you
listen to it, will inform you. It tells us, that there
is a veil upon our hearts ; a veil, which prevents
us from discerning the path of duty ; and it also
tells us, that when our hearts turn to the Lord, that
veil shall be taken away. Turn then to God. Go
to him, as his servants, for direction, and he will
teach you what you must do. If I mistake not,
many of you are like Agrippa, and for a long time
have been almost persuaded to be christians ; but
you hesitate, you linger, you dread to take the first
step. Perhaps when you are just on the point of
yielding to conviction, the question, what will the
world, what will my companions say, occurs to you
and causes you to fear. You fear to be thought
serious ; you dread the remarks, the ridicule, which
it would draw upon you, and therefore do violence
to your convictions, or lock them up in your own
breast, till they die away. In this manner thous
ands gradually and insensibly harden their hearts,
till the truth ceases to affect them. Let such
remember, that the fear of riian bringeth a snare,
that Jesus Christ has said, Whosoever is ashamed
of me, of him will I be ashamed at the last day.

TO HEAR GOD'S VOICE. 283
If you cannot bear the reproach of men how will
you bear his condemning sentence ; and the ever
lasting shame and contempt which will follow it ?
It will then be known that you had serious thoughts,
but that you banished them through fear of men ;
and sinners themselves will despise you as a
coward, who did not dare do what he knew to be
right. Dare then to do your duty, to obey your
conscience and your God, to be religious ; for you
cannot be a christian in disguise. You must come
out, and be separate, or God will not receive you.
Take then, at once, some decided step, and let it
be known what you mean to be ; and you will find
that this, and all the other objects of your fear, are
mere shadows, and will feel ashamed that they
should ever have influenced you for a moment. If
your heart still lingers, press it with the command
of God ; press it with the dreadful consequence of
offending and provoking him to forsake you ; press
it with the terrors of the last day, and all the awful
realities of eternity. Above all, press it with the
consideration, that if you ever turn to God, it must
be to-day ; that your soul, your salvation, your
everlasting happiness, depends on your becoming
religious to-day. My friends, are you not convin
ced that this is the case ? Do you not perceive,
that if you disobey, or trifle with, this solemn
command, it will, it must harden your hearts ; and
render your conversion exceedingly improbable ?
Do you not perceive, that if, with this command
before you, and with all these motives to obey it,

284 SINNERS ENTREATED, Ac.
you cannot resolve to obey, you will feel still less
disposed to obedience to-morrow, when the subject
is forgotten, and the world, with all its cares and
allurements, again rushes upon you ? Be persuaded
then to listen and obey, while God, and Christ, and
the Holy Spirit — while death, and judgment, and
eternity, and heaven and hell, continually cry, to
day, to-day, hear God's voice, and harden not your
hearts !

SERMOX XV.
THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING THE DAMNATION
OF HELL.
Mt hearers, I am not without apprehensions,
that the passage, which I have chosen for the sub
ject of this discourse, will sound harshly in your
ears ; and that its first effect will be to excite, in
many breasts, feelings by no means favorable to
the reception of truth. But it is a passage, which
was uttered by the compassionate Saviour of sin
ners, and I cannot, I dare not, pretend to be more
merciful than he ; I dare not suffer either a false
tenderness, or a fear of giving offence, to prevent
me from calling your attention to his words ; words,
which, if properly regarded, cannot fail to produce
the most salutary effects. The words, to which I
refer, are recorded in
MATTHEW XXIII. 33.
HOW CAN YE ESCAPE THE DAMNATION OF HELL ?
This appalling question was addressed by our
Lord to the scribes and pharisees. It evidently
intimates that their situation was exceedingly dan
gerous, if not desperate ; — that it was almost, if not
quite, impossible for them to escape final condem
nation. My impenitent hearers, I will not assert
that your situation is equally dangerous, or that

286 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
your escape from the dreadful retributions of eter
nity is equally improbable. But the word of God
will justify the assertion, and a regard to your eter
nal interest constrains me to assert, that your situ
ation is exceedingly dangerous ; that the obstacles,
which oppose your salvation are very great and
numerous ; and that the improbability of your es
caping the wrath to come, is by no means small.
To produce in your minds a conviction of this
truth, is my object in the present discourse. Could
you be thoroughly convinced of it, one great ob
stacle, which now opposes your salvation, would be
removed. So far as I have observed, nothing more
effectually prevents men from flying from the wrath
to come, than a groundless persuasion, that, to es
cape it, is easy. Nothing so much encourages
men to neglect religion, as a false belief, that they
can easily become religious at any time. Nothing
prevents more persons from obtaining a well found
ed hope of salvation, than a delusive hope that they
shall, some 'how or other, be saved. Could this
delusive hope, this groundless persuasion, be des
troyed ; could they be made to see their real situ
ation, and the obstacles, which oppose their es-
eape, they would, at once, be alarmed ; their false
peace would be effectually disturbed, and they
would begin to cry, with earnestness, what shall
we do to be saved? How shall we escape the
wrath to come ?
It is for these reasons, my careless hearers, and
not to gratify myself, that I call your attention, to

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 287
this subject. It is much more for your interest,
than it can be for mine, that you should entertain
just views respecting it. Let me, then, hope for
your attention, while I endeavor to show you, from
the word of God, what your situation actually is ;
what are the obstacles which oppose your escape,
and which render it highly improbable that you
will escape final condemnation.
In the first place, permit me to remind you, that
you are, even now, under sentence of condemna
tion. You are already doomed to eternal death
by the righteous law of God. This is a truth,
which persons of your character are ever apt to
forget. Many, who assent to the fact, that sinners
will be condemned at the judgment day, do not
seem to be aware, that they are condemned alrea
dy. Yet nothing can be more certain. On this
point the declarations of scripture are explicit and
full. They assure us, that all have sinned, that the
wages of sin is death, that the soul that sinneth shall
die, that sinners are under the curse, or condemna
tory sentence of God's violated law, that he who
believeth not is condemned already, and that the
wrath of God abideth on him. This being the case,
it is evident, unless the execution of this sentence
can be averted, unless you can obtain pardon of
your offended God, you must perish forever. But
the inspired writers assure us, with one voice, that
the execution of this sentence cannot be averted,
that pardon cannot be obtained, without the exer
cise of repentance, and faith in Christ. On these

288 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
terms alone salvation is offered, and if we neglect
them there is no escape. Now that you may exer
cise repentance and faith, or become truly religious,
several things are necessary, each of which is at
tended with great difficulties.
It is necessary that you should be roused from
that careless, secure state, in which all men natu
rally live ; that you should see religion to be all im
portant, and thus be led to attend to it with ear
nestness. To use the language of inspiration, you
must be awakened ; for with respect to your spirit
ual and eternal interests, you are asleep. Now it
is evident, that no man will attend seriously to re
ligion, unless he sees it to be an object of impor
tance. No man will exert himself to escape a dan
ger, which he does not perceive ; no man will think
seriously of flying from the wrath to come, until he
sees that he is exposed to this wrath. And it is
equally evident, that no man, who, in a spiritual
sense, is asleep, will see that he is exposed to this
wrath, until he is roused from his slumbers, until
he becomes awake to eternal realities.
Of this your own experience and observation
must convince you. You cannot but know, that
religion does not appear in your view, to be all im
portant ; that you do not perceive yourselves to be
exposed to the wrath of God ; and you know also,
that, so long as this continues to be the case, you
will make no exertions to escape it. You cannot
but be sensible, that, should you live a hundred
years in your present state of religious indifference

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 289
and insensibility, you would not advance a single
step towards preparation for death, nor make one
effort to become truly religious. It is then evident
ly necessary, that you should be roused from this
spiritual lethargy, to a sense of your danger ; your
slumbers must be disturbed ; your dreams of secu
rity and of worldly happiness must be banished,
and you must awake to the realities of the eternal
world ; awake to a convietion that religion is the
one thing needful, and that without it you must
perish forever. Until this is done, nothing can be
done. Until this is done, you will no more take
one step towards heaven, than a man buried in
sleep will commence a journey. But to rouse you
from this slumbering, careless state, to fix your
attention on religious subjects, is exceedingly diffi
cult. Of this, too, your own experience may con
vince you. The speaker has been laboring for ma
ny years to effect this object by every means in his,
power ; but with how little success, you well know.
Nay more, God has long been using means to
rouse you. He has called to you, Awake thou that
sleepest ; rise up, ye that are at ease ; be troubled,
ye careless ones ; woe to them that are at ease in
Zion ! He has enforced attention to these calls by
the dispensations of his providence. He has sent
mercies and afflictions. Many of you he has visit
ed with sickness, and thus brought you near to the
eternal world ; and he has caused all of you to wit
ness, in repeated instances, the death of friends and
acquaintance. But all in vain. You still slumber
37

290 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
on, and dream of worldly objects, while death
is daily approaching to hurry you to the bar of
God. You still feel a strong unwillingness to have
your false peace disturbed, and to commence a re
ligious life. To every messenger of God, to every
friendly monitor you reply, I pray thee have me
excused. A little more sleep, a little more slum
ber, a little more folding of the hands to sleep.
Here then is one great difficulty, which opposes
your conversion. And is there not great reason to
fear, that it will prove insuperable ? Does it not
render your conversion, and consequently your es
cape from final condemnation, highly improbable ?
Since you have already lived so many years with
out becoming religious, and even without being
persuaded to make it an object of earnest atten
tion, is it not probable that you will continue to
live in the same manner, till death arrives, espe
cially since all means have been tried in vain, and
no new means remain to be employed ?
But this is not all. That you may escape final
condemnation, it is necessary, not only that you
should be roused to think seriously of religion, but
that you should be induced to pursue it with con
stancy and perseverance. You must be awaken
ed, and you must be kept awake ; and the latter, is
the more difficult thing. For though it is by no
means easy to rouse you to a sense of your situa
tion, it is far more difficult to prevent you from re
lapsing into a state of spiritual slumber. The very
air of this world, has a drowsy effect ; and there is

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 291
a strong and constant propensity in the human
heart to lose all serious impressions, and to become
careless and indifferent respecting its eternal inter
ests. Besides, religion is always disagreeable to
men, when they first make it a subject of attention.
They cannot then embrace its promises ; they knew
nothing of its divine consolations ; they see nothing
in the Bible, but a system of restrictions, and
threatenings, and penalties ; . it requires them to
renounce the objects, which they love, and gives
them nothing in return ; every page seems to impose
on them sorne duty, which they are unwilling to
perform, or requires of them some sacrifice, which
they are unwilling to make, or denounces against
them some threatening, which they are unwilling
to believe. Hence they are strongly tempted to
withdraw from it their attention, and return to their
former careless state. Hence scarcely one in five
of those, who are roused from their slumbers, can
be prevented from again falling asleep, though to
sleep, is to perish.
Here again, we may appeal to your own obser
vation and experience. Many of you have, at
different times, been roused from your natural state
of careless security. You have been made to see
that religion is important. You have felt something
of the powers of the world to come, and resolved
to attend to your eternal interests. But no sooner
were these impressions made, than they began to
be effaced ; in a few days, or, at most, in a few
weeks, they were entirely gone, and your slumbers

292 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
became more profound than before. Similar effects
of this propensity to lose serious impressions you
have often witnessed in others. How many in this
assembly have you seen attending to religion for a
while with earnestness, and then again treating it
with entire neglect. Now this propensity remains
in your breasts in its full force, and it wifl forever
oppose all persevering attempts to become reli
gious. Here, then, is another great obstacle,
which opposes your conversion. And when you
consider how great it is ; when you reflect on the
instability of your religious views ; on the prone-
ness of your thoughts to wander from religious
subjects, even while in the house of God, does it
not appear highly improbable, even to yourselves,
that you shall ever be the subjects of permanent
religious impressions ; that you shall ever be induc
ed to pursue religion with that fixedness of purpose,
that intensity of feeling, and that persevering
diligence, which alone can secure success ? Does
it not appear exceedingly probable, that you will
continue to live as you have done, making resolu
tions, but delaying their accomplishment, until your
day of grace comes to an end, and the sentence of
final condemnation is executed upon you ?
Should you however be enabled to overcome
these obstacles, others still greater will oppose your
progress. With whatever diligence and persever
ance you may attend to religious subjects, it will
avail nothing, unless you obtain proper views of
your own characters, or, to use the language of

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 293
scripture, unless you are convinced of sin ; for no
man will seek to escape the condemning sentence
of God's law, unless he fears it ; no man will fear
it, unless he sees that he deserves it, and no man
will see that he deserves it, unless he sees himself
to be, not only a sinner, but a great sinner ; such
a sinner as the Bible asserts him to be. Besides,
no man can repent of his sins, until he is convinced
of them ; and we have already seen, that, without
repentance, there is no pardon. A deep and
thorough conviction of your own sinfulness, then,
is indispensably necessary to your salvation. But
to produce such a conviction in your minds, is one
ofthe most difficult things imaginable. It is always
exceedingly difficult to convince a man against his
will, to convince him of any unwelcome or disa
greeable truth ; and the more disagreeable any
truth is, so much the more difficult it becomes to
produce a conviction of it. How difficult it is, for
instance, to convince a consumptive man of his
danger. How difficult to make men sensible of
their own faults, or to make fond and injudicious
parents see the faults of their children. But there
is no truth more disagreeable to men, no one,
therefore of which they are so unwilling to be con
vinced, as that which asserts their exceeding
sinfulness. To see their sins is mortifying, is pain
ful, is alarming. They will therefore, shut their
eyes against the sight as long as possible. Many
sins they will deny themselves to be guilty of ; what
they cannot deny, they will extenuate, and for.those,

294 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
which they cannot extenuate, they will make a
thousand excuses. If the fallacy of one excuse is
shewn, they will fly to another, and from that to a
third, and fourth ; and when all their pleas and
excuses are answered, they will return and urge
them all a second time with as much confidence as
at first.
But this is not all. The scriptures teach, and
observation proves, that one effect of men's sinful
ness is to make them blind to their own sins. It
prevents men from forming clear conceptions of
the rule of duty, that is, the law of God. Sin con
sists in a transgression of this law, and so long as
men have indistinct conceptions of it, they will, of
course, have very imperfect views of their trans
gressions. Sin too renders men in a great degree
insensible to the perfections, the authority, and even
to the existence of God ; and, therefore, they see
little of the criminality of offending him. Besides,
sin impairs, and almost destroys the sensibility of
conscience, and thus prevents her from perceiving
and reproving what is wrong in our temper and
conduct. These remarks we see daily verified in
our intercourse with the world. We often see the
most abandoned characters entirely blind to their
own views. We see, that, the longer men persist
in vicious courses, the more insensible they become
to the voice of conscience. It is the same with res
pect to those sins of the heart, of which you are all,
my careless hearers, guilty ; and of which you must
be convinced, or perish. It is even more difficult

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 295
to see these sins in ourselves, than it is to perceive
those which are open and gross. Hence the ex
clamation of the psalmist, — Who can understand
his errors ! Hence, too, we find multitudes of sin
ners mentioned by the inspired writers, who, when
reproved by God's messengers for their sins, boldly
replied, — What is our iniquity, and what is our sin,
that we have transgressed against the Lord ? When
he said, Ye have despised my name, they replied,
— Wherein have we despised it ? When he said,
Ye have robbed God, — they did not fear to reply,
Wherein have we robbed thee ? And when he
charged them with uttering impious language, they
asked, What have we spoken against thee ? Now
since human nature is the same in every age, and
since it can thus impudently repel the charges of
God himself, how exceedingly difficult, or rather,
how impossible, must it be for us to convince you,
that you are sinful in that degree, which the Bible
describes ! Here, as before, we may appeal to
your own experience. You know the scriptures
assert, in the most unequivocal terms, that the
hearts of men are full of evil, that they are des
perately wicked, that they are enmity against God ;
yet these assertions do not convince you that your
hearts are thus sinful. What then will ever con
vince you of it ? God will give you no new
revelation of the fact, and his ministers can say
nothing more than you have already heard, hundreds
of times. And yet you must be convinced of it,
or your condemnation is certain. Here then is

296 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
another and apparently an insuperable obstacle
which opposes your escape, and which renders it
exceedingly improbable, that you ever will escape
final condemnation.
But suppose all these difficulties removed ;
suppose, though there is little ground for the sup
position, that by some means or other you should
be made sensible of your sins ; still, new obstacles
no less insurmountable remain to oppose your
salvation. Every sinner, when convinced of his
sinfulness and danger, invariably seeks deliverance
in a way in which it cannot be obtained. He
relies upon his own watchfulness, strength, and
exertions to subdue his sinful propensities, and upon
his own prayers, tears, and merits, to obtain the
pardon of his sins. In the language of an apos
tle, he goes about to establish his own right
eousness, and does not submit to the righteousness
of God. Disregarding our Saviour's assertion,
without me ye can do nothing, he attempts to do
every thing without obtaining by faith the assistance
of Christ. He says, I am the way, the truth and
the life. No man cometh to the Father, but by
me. Yet still the convicted, but misguided sinner
will endeavor to come to God, and to obtain his
favor without Christ. And though he is assured,
that, without the teaching of God's good Spirit, he
never will be able to understand the scriptures, he
will not humbly pray for this teaching, but endeavor
to ascertain their meaning by his own unassisted
researches. These errors, if persisted in, prove

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 297
fatal. The man is soon bewildered and lost, and
never finds the way to heaven ; for we are taught,
that the scriptures make men wise to salvation, on
ly through faith in Christ Jesus. Agreeably, the
apostle, speaking of such characters, says, they fol
lowed after righteousness, but they have not attain
ed to righteousness. Wherefore ? Because they
sought it not by faith, but by the works ofthe law;
for they stumbled at that stumbling stone. At the
same stumbling stone multitudes have ever since
continued to stumble and fall to rise no more. Af
ter laboring a while to establish their own right
eousness, as the apostle expresses it, they begin
to fancy that they have succeeded. They become
pleased and satisfied with themselves, and imagine
that all is safe ; their alarm subsides, their religious
zeal declines, and they settle down upon a false
foundation, never to be disturbed till the day, in
which God shall come to sweep away their refuges
of lies, and overflow, as with a flood, their hiding
place. Others fall into a mistake of a different na
ture, but no less fatal. Eager to obtain relief from
their guilty fears and apprehensions, and yet un
willing to obtain it by the exercise of repentance
and faith in Christ, they daily seek for the applica
tion of some promise, or for some change in their
own feelings, which shall encourage a hope, that
their sins are forgiven. What they thus earnestly
seek, they are almost sure to find. They are pow
erfully, but transiently, affected by some promise or
encouraging portion of scripture ; like the stony
38

298 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
ground hearers, they receive it with joy ; they con
sider this joy as a proof of their conversion, and sit
down satisfied, that now they are safe. But they
are deceived, fatally deceived. They have no root
in themselves, and therefore endure but for a time,
and in a season of temptation fall away. My care
less hearers, if you would know how many are thus
deceived and perish, look at this church, or at any
other church of Christ. See how many there are,
who, after professing to be converted, and appear
ing joyful and zealous for a time, lose every thing
of religion, except the name, and a little of the out
ward form. Yet all these persons had surmounted
the first two great difficulties mentioned above.
They had been roused from their slumbers, and
they had been convinced of their sins ; but in con
sequence of that strong propensity which is natural
to all men, to neglect the guide provided by God,
they only escaped one snare, to be entangled in an
other equally fatal. The same propensity exists
with equal force in your breasts. Should you then
be roused to think seriously of religion ; nay,
should you be convinced of your sins, still it is ex
ceedingly probable, that, like them, you would go
about to establish your own righteousness, or be
fatally deceived by a false conversion. If you think
this improbable, if you say within yourselves, we
would be more wise and more cautious, it only
proves, that you are under the influence of a self-
confident spirit, which would infallibly plunge you
into these very snares.

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 299
But suppose, that you should be preserved from
these snares, that you should be enabled to sur
mount all the difficulties which have been mention
ed, there would still remain another obstacle, which
would alone be sufficient to render your conversion
altogether improbable. This is a sinful, hard, un
believing heart, which is full of enmity against God,
and of opposition to his truth ; and which will nev
er believe, or submit to God, until its enmity and
opposition are taken away. This you do not at
present perceive. No sinner perceives it, until he
has been convinced of his sinfulness and danger ;
till he sees, that his own exertions cannot save him,
and till the true character of God and of his law is
clearly brought to his view. Until this is done, he
always fancies that he has some love to God, and
that he sincerely desires to please him. But when
he sees what God is, and what he requires, then
this long concealed opposition never fails to burst
forth, and the sinner finds his heart, instead of sub
mitting to God, filled with dislike of his character
and of his law. It will not repent, it will not be
lieve in Christ, for we are assured, that every sin
ner hates the light, and will not come to it. Find
ing the light then unpleasant, the convinced sinner,
if left to himself, makes a desperate effort, shuts his
eyes against it, returns to his former state, and
probably plunges into infidelity or some other er
ror equally fatal. Thus it was with many during
our Saviour's residence on earth. They followed
him so long and so constantly, that they considered

300 ' THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
themselves as his disciples, and are so called by
an inspired writer. But on a certain occasion our
Saviour brought clearly to their view some of those
truths, which are peculiarly disagreeable to a sinful
heart. The consequence was, that they forsook
him forever. In a similar manner, I have known
many go back and perish, after they seemed to
have almost reached the entrance of the way of
life. I have seen them sensible, that they were the
chief of sinners, fully convinced, that everlasting
misery would be their portion, unless they repent
ed and embraced the Saviour, and assenting to the
truth, that he was able and willing to save them.
I have seen them in this state for several days, un
utterably distressed by a sense of guilt and fear of
God's wrath, while their understandings and con
sciences waged an ineffectual war with their obdu
rate hearts, and made vain attempts to subdue
them. At length their hearts gained a fatal victory ;
their conviction of the truth was banished, the
voice of conscience was silenced, and they return
ed to their former courses, and their last state be
came sevenfold worse than the first. The same ob
stacle, my careless hearers, will oppose your salva
tion with a strength and violence, of which you
can, at present, form no conception. Terrible
proofs of its power I have often witnessed, when
attending the sinner's dying bed. I have seen them,
when they knew that their disease was mortal, and
that they had but a few days to live, fully convin
ced that hell would be their portion, unless they

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 301
repented — agonizing in view of their approaching
fate — expressing no doubt, that the Saviour was
ready to receive them, if they would apply to him
with sincerity, and yet refusing to apply to him, and
at last dying in despair, rather than accept, on
these terms, his offered grace. While I have been
holding up to their view the power, the compas
sion, and love of the Saviour, his precious promis
es, and his readiness to receive all who come to
him, they have replied, yes, it is all true, but my
hard, wicked, unbelieving heart will not repent,
will not believe, will not pray. I can repeat pray
ers with my lips, but my heart feels them not. My
hearers, how great, how insuperable, must be the
obstacle, which, in such circumstances as these,
can prevent a sinner from accepting salvation on
the terms of the gospel ! Whether you now be
lieve it or not, O sinner, the same obstacle oppo
ses your salvation, and you will one day be convin
ced of it.
I might easily proceed to mention other obsta
cles, which render your escape from final condem
nation improbable, for it would require a volume to
enumerate them all. I have said nothing ofthe fas
cinating power of worldly objects ; nothing of the
contagious influence of evil example ; nothing of
the strong current of prevailing customs and prej
udices, which must be stemmed ; nothing of the
chain, which long continued habits of sinning have
thrown over you ; nothing of the many deceivers,
who will spread snares for your feet, and cry

302 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
peace, when there is no peace ; nothing of the
sophistical arguments, which will be employed to
overthrow your conviction of the truth ; nothing of
the temptations to neglect religion, which will dai
ly assail you on the right hand and on the left ;
nothing of that great adversary, who, as inspira
tion informs us, keeps your hearts like a strong
man armed, and is not to be cast out of them, but
by a stronger than he. But the obstacles, which I
have mentioned, are surely sufficient to render it
exceedingly improbable, that you will escape final
condemnation. And remember that all these
obstacles are of such a nature as to furnish you
with no excuse. They all originate in your own
sinful carelessness, presumption and opposition to
the truth. There are no obstacles on the part of
God, or of the Saviour. It is your hearts, it is
yourselves, which place all these mountains in the
path to heaven.
And now, my careless hearers, would it answer
any purpose, I could sit down and weep in anguish
over the picture I have drawn, or rather, which
the pencil of inspired truth has drawn of your sit
uation. To see immortal souls thus situated, to see
their way to life thus blocked up by their own folly
and sinfulness, to see so many powerful causes
combining to thrust them down to endless, remedi
less ruin, — is a sight, over which even angels might
weep ; nay more, it is a sight, over which the Lord
of angels has wept with unavailing compassion.
Do any of you reply, It cannot be, that our

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 303
situation is so terrible, -so dangerous, so nearly des
perate, as has now been represented ? Why then
do the scriptures of truth describe it as such ? Why
were all the inspired messengers whom God has
ever sent to men so much alarmed and distressed
by the situation of their hearers ? Why did one
cry, O that my head were waters, and mine eyes a
fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night
on their account ? Why did another exclaim, I
have great heaviness, and continual sorrow in my
heart ; for I could wish that I myself were accursed
from Christ for my brethren my kinsmen according
to the flesh ? Nay more, why is there joy in,
heaven, why do angels rejoice over every sinner,
who repents ? They must be perfectly acquainted
with his situation ; and did they not see it to be
dangerous, awfully dangerous, they never would
think his escape from it, by repentance, an occa
sion of such joy. 0 then, believe not your own
deceitful hearts ; but believe the angels, believe
the scriptures, believe God, believe the Saviour,
when he tells you, that strait is the gate, and nar
row the way, which leadeth unto life, and that few
there be, who find it. If you will not believe all
these witnesses, if you refuse to pay any attention
to this warning it will furnish another proof of the
greatness of those obstacles, which oppose your
salvation, and of the improbability of your escape.
I have no hope of ever being able to set before
you truths more alarming, more adapted to rouse
you from your slumbers than those, which have now

304 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
been exhibited. The word of God contains nothing ,
more alarming, and did you really believe it, the
archangel's trump would not rouse you more effect
ually than these truths. And shall they not rouse
you ? Will you still sit unconcerned on the verge
of the abyss, with the wrath of God abiding on
you, while you are so far from safety, while so long
and difficult a journey is before you, while precipi
tous mountains rise, and deep gulfs sink, and pow
erful enemies lie in ambush, and numberless snares
are spread between you and heaven ? Will you sit
thus, and lose the precious hours, while the night
of death is approaching, while the shadows of
evening are already stealing upon some of you,
and while none of you is sure of a week or a day ?
O ye gay, thoughtless triflers ! is this a situation
for carelessness and gaiety ? O ye, who are la
boring to be rich ! is this the place, in which you
would lay up treasure ? O ye immortal spirits !
condemned already, and hastening to hear the con
firmation o"f your sentence at the tribunal of God,
can you find nothing more important than the tri
fles, which now engross your attention ? If you
have not cast off all regard to God's word, if you
are not infidels in theory, as well as in practice, you
cannot, methinks, contemplate with perfect indif
ference the view, which has been given of your sit
uation. You cannot feel perfectly at ease, while
you hear it clearly proved from the scriptures, that
there is very little probability of your escaping final
condemnation. If you are, in any degree, roused

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 305
from your slumbers, one great obstacle is removed.
But remember, that it may easily return. Consider
how easily the present impression may be effaced,
how soon it may be lost, and how much more dan
gerous your situation will then be. Welcome eve
ry serious thought then, as you would welcome an
angel from heaven. Cherish it as the apple of
your eye, nay, as your own soul. Avoid every
thing which tends to banish it. Dread more than
death its departure. Repair to every place, in
which your serious impressions may be strengthen
ed, and use, with earnest diligence and solicitude,
every means, which may increase them. Remem
ber, that your soul, your eternal all, is at stake ;
that the question to be decided, is, whether you
shall spend your eternity in heaven, or in hell, and
that, at present, it is exceedingly probable the lat
ter will be your portion.
Do any reply, the difficulties to be surmounted
are so great, and the probability of our surmount
ing them so small, that we have no courage to
make the attempt. It will therefore be best to give
ourselves no concern respecting it, but to enjoy life
while we can. And do you thus talk of enjoyment
in such a situation, and while exposed to such a
fate as this ? Well may we say of such enjoyment,
it is madness. It is far more irrational and prepos
terous than the mirth of criminals confined in a
dungeon, and doomed to die, who attempt to
drown their fears by noise and intoxication. There
is no necessity for your adopting this desperate
39

306 THE DIFFICULTY OF ESCAPING
resolution. Though your destruction is probable,
it is not yet certain, and nothing but your own folly
can make it so. It would indeed be certain, the ob
stacles before you would be insurmountable, were
there not an Almighty, Sovereign Helper, who can
assist you to overcome them, and who is ready to
afford you assistance. While, therefore, you justly
despair of saving yourselves, go to him, and im
plore his help. Go, and tell him, that you have ru
ined yourselves by disobeying him ; that you have
raised impassable mountains between yourselves
and heaven ; that you do not deserve his assist
ance ; that you are justly condemned already, and
merit nothing but eternal condemnation. This,
however, which is the only safe course, I fear your
sinful hearts will not consent to pursue. I fear,
that, however you may now feel, you will dismiss
your serious thoughts, and banish the subject from
your minds, almost as soon as you leave this house.
This I cannot prevent. My arm is too weak to
draw you out of that fatal current, which is rapidly
sweeping you away to destruction. I can only sit on
the bank and weep as I contemplate the increasing
strength of the current, and breathe out, in agony,
cries to that God, who can alone rescue you from
its power, and prevent it from hurrying you into
that bottomless gulf, in which it terminates. And
come, you my christian hearers — come all, who
have been rescued from this fatal current ; all, who
can feel compassion for perishing immortals, come,
and assist in crying to him for help. That you may

THE DAMNATION OF HELL. 307
be excited to this, look at the scene before you.
Look around, and see how many of your children,
acquaintance and friends, are swept away towards
perdition, while they sleep and know it not, and no
voice, but that of God, can rouse them. Do you
know whither they are hastening ? Do you know
what hell is ? Do you consider how improbable it
is, that they will escape its condemnation ? Do you
consider, that, unless grace prevents, they will, in
a few years, be lifting up their eyes in torment and
despair ? Surely, if you know and consider these
things, one universal cry of, God have mercy upon
them ! will burst from every christian heart.

308 THE DEAD IN SIN

SERMON XVI.
THE DEAD IN SIN MADE ALIVE.
EPHESIANS II. 1 — 7.
AND YOU HATH HE QUICKENED, WHO WERE DEAD IN TRESPASSES AND SINS ;
WHEREIN IN TIME PAST, YE WALKED ACCORDING TO THE COURSE OF
THIS WORLD, ACCORDING TO THE PRINCE OF THE POWER OF THE AIR,
THE SPIRIT THAT NOW WORKETH IN THE CHILDREN OF DISOBEDIENCE ;
AMONG WHOM ALSO WE ALL HAD OUR CONVERSATION IN TIMES PAST, IN
THE LUSTS OF THE FLESH, FULFILLING THE DESIRES OF OUR FLESH AND
OF THE MIND ; AND WERE BY NATURE THE CHILDREN OF WRATH, EVEN
AS OTHERS. BUT GOD, WHO IS RICH IN MERCY, FOR HIS GREAT LOVE
WHEREWITH HE LOVED US, EVEN WHEN WE WERE DEAD IN SINS, HATH
QUICKENED US TOGETHER WITH CHRIST; (by GRACE ARE YE SAVED;)
AND HATH RAISED US UP TOGETHER, AND MADE US SIT TOGETHER IN
HEAVENLY PLACES IN CHRIST JESUS ; THAT IN THE AGES TO COME HE
MIGHT SHEW THE EXCEEDING RICHES OF HIS GRACE, IN HIS KINDNESS
TOWARDS US, THROUGH CHRIST JESUS.
Nothing, my friends, is more profitable to Chris
tians, than frequent meditations on what they once
were, and what has been done for them by divine
grace. Meditations on these subjects are exceed
ingly well suited to increase, at once, their grati
tude, love and humility. To such meditations our
text naturally invites us. The apostle here reminds
the Ephesian Christians of their former state and
character, and contrasts it with their then happy
situation, and mentions the Author of the great
change, in consequence of which they had passed
from death unto life. And lest any should suppose
that such a change was necessary for none but
those, who, like the Ephesians had been heathen

MADE ALIVE. 309
and idolaters, he intimates, that he and his fellow
apostles, who were Jews, had been by nature in a
similar state, and had experienced a similar change.
To all the true disciples of Christ, then, whether
Jews or Gentiles, and to you, my Christian friends,
among the rest, the language of Our text may, with
propriety, be addressed. You know, that once you
were dead in trespasses and sins ; you know, that
you once walked according to the course of this
world, as children of disobedience, fulfilling the de
sires of the flesh and of the mind ; you know that
you were by nature children of wrath, even as oth
ers ; and you hope that God has quickened, or
made you alive, and raised you up to sit together
in heavenly places with Christ Jesus. This pas
sage, then, contains your religious history. It des
cribes what you once were, and shews what you are
now, and what God has done for you. To illus
trate more largely these several particulars, is my
present design. To you the subject cannot but be
interesting, and it will be little less so to you, my
impenitent hearers, if you recollect, that, in des
cribing what Christians once were, we are describ
ing what you are still.
I. Once, my Christian friends, you were dead in
trespasses and sins. In the figurative language of
scripture, a man is said to be dead to any object,
or class of objects, when he is wholly insensible to
it, or unaffected by it, or unsusceptible of impres
sions from it. Thus Paul speaks of himself, as dy
ing, or becoming dead to the world ; meaning that

310 THE DEAD IN SIN
he was less and less affected by worldly objects,
and more and more insensible to their influence.
So you were once dead with respect to your Crea
tor, your Redeemer, to religious, to divine things,
and to all the concerns of your everlasting peace.
In other words, you were entirely insensible to
these things ; they did not affect you, they made
no impression upon your minds, any more than if
they did not exist, and, in fact, you did not at all
realize their existence. You were alive to other
objects. You possessed an animal life, which en
abled you to have communion with the irrational
animals in the pleasures of sense. You possessed
what may be called rational, or intellectual life, by
which you were qualified to maintain intercourse
and communion with your rational fellow creatures
in the pursuit and enjoyment of worldly objects.
But of that spiritual life, which renders the soul
susceptible of impressions from spiritual objects,
and prepares it for the enjoyment of intercourse
with God and holy beings, you were entirely desti
tute. Being thus spiritually dead, you were, of
course, devoid of spiritual senses. You could nei
ther hear, nor see, nor feel. You could not hear
God's voice, either in his word, or in the dispensa
tions of his providence. He spoke once, yea, twice,
hut you perceived it not ; nor did you ever truly
hear a single sermon, though you might, perhaps,
listen to many. You were also spiritually blind.
You saw no glory in God, no beauty in Christ, no
hatefulness in sin, no excellency in the plan of sal-

MADE ALIVE. 31 1
vation revealed in the gospel. Like all men in their
natural state, you received not the things of the
Spirit of God, but they were foolishness to you ;
neither could you know them, because they are
spiritually discerned, and you had no spiritual sight.
Nor were you less destitute of feeling. You felt
nothing of the load of guilt, which pressed you
down ; nothing of the wickedness and hardness of
your own hearts ; nothing of the goodness of God,
and the dying love of Jesus Christ. You did not
even feel, that you were dead, but lay buried in a
grave of trespasses, and wrapped up in a winding-
sheet of sins, as insensible of your situation as a
corpse, and as completely cut off from all inter
course or communion with God and holy beings,
as a corpse is from intercourse with the living ; nor
did you any more desire to rise from this state,
than a corpse desires to rise from the slumbers of
the grave. Many attempts, indeed, were made by
the beings around you, to rouse you from this state,.
and sometimes they seemed, for a moment, to be
attended with partial success. Like a corpse op
erated upon by the power of electricity, or galvan
ism, you exhibited some faint symptoms of return
ing animation, or at least of irritability ; your eyes
were perhaps half unclosed, and you cast an anx
ious glance around ; but the bands of death were
too strong to be thus broken, and you soon relaps
ed into a state of complete moral insensibility. But,
2. While you thus lay, in a spiritual sense, dead
in trespasses and sins, you were in another sense,.

312 THE DEAD IN SIN
alive, awake and active. Though dead to your
Creator, you were alive to your fellow creatures ;
though dead to the future world, you were alive to
this ; though destitute of that life, which the Holy
Spirit communicates, you were vehemently actua
ted by that evil spirit, which, as our text informs
us, works in all the children of disobedience.
Hence, you walked according to his will, or, which
is the same thing, according to the common course
of this sinful and apostate world. The tempter, as
a strong man armed, kept possession of your hearts,
as his castle, and, by a constant succession of temp
tations, suited to your depraved taste, he excited
your appetites, inflamed your passions, and thus
hurried you forward with blind eagerness and im
petuosity in a course of self-gratifications and dis
obedience to God. As the world around you lived,
so you lived. Like them, you cast off fear, and res
trained prayer before God ; like them, you neglect
ed your Creator, your Redeemer, your souls and
eternity ; and, like them, your whole employment
and happiness consisted in fulfilling the desires of
the flesh and of the mind. Some of you, especially
during the season of youth, were most intent on
gratifying the desires and appetites of the body.
You drank deep of the intoxicating cup of pleas
ures, rejoicing in youth, and walking in the way of
your own hearts, and the sight of your eyes. Oth
ers were more devoted to the service of those pas
sions, which are seated in the mind ; and to grat
ify them by the acquisition of wealth, or honor, or

MADE ALIVE. 3] 3
applause, was the grand object of your lives. In
a word, you lived, just as hundreds around you,
whose madness and depravity you contemplate
with mingled surprise, pity and abhorrence, are liv
ing now. Meanwhile, God hearkened and heard,
but you spake not aright. None of you repented
of his wickedness, saying what have I done ? but
every one turned to his course, as the horse rush-
eth into the battle.
3. Being then dead in sin, and children of diso
bedience, you were, of course, children of wrath ;
or, in other words, objects of the just indignation
and wrath of God. He was angry with you every
day ; and once and again insulted justice cried,
Cut them down — why cumber they the ground ?
But mercy interposed, and you were spared. Mean
while, you thought nothing of the justice, which
threatened, or the mercy, which spared you, but
were wholly occupied by your worldly pursuits ;
and, with scarcely a thought of an hereafter, re
mained insensible as a corpse, over which the thun
ders were rolling, and round which the lightnings
of heaven were spending all their fury. You went
on with the tempter enthroned, and strongly forti
fied in your hearts ; sin spreading its deadly influ
ence through all the powers of your soul, and all
the members of your body ; a frowning and angry
God looking down upon you from above, his curse
resting upon your persons, your possessions, and
all the works of your hands ; the world spreading
all her allurements, to draw you on in the broad
40

314 THE DEAD IN SIN
road to destruction, and hell opening wide in the
path before you ; while death, with his' envenom
ed dart, stood waiting a commission to transfix and
hurl you down to quenchless flames below. Such,
my christian friends, was once your character and
situation. Such, my impenitent hearers, is still
yours. Having thus shewn what you were,' we pro
ceed, II. To shew what God has done for you. And,
1. When you were thus dead in trespasses and
sins, he quickened, or made you alive. You lay,
some of you a longer, and some a shorter time in
the wretched state, which has been described, like
the dry bones, which the Prophet saw in the valley*'
of vision, and there you had lain till now, had not
sovereign grace interposed. But he, who had,
from the beginning, chosen you to salvation,
through sanctification of the Spirit, and belief of
the truth, in his own appointed time, began to
manifest towards you his eternal purposes of love.
The season approached, in which he determined,
that the dead should hear the voice of the Son of
man ; and that they, who heard, should live. In
preparing you for the great change, God dealt with
you, not as machines, but as rational beings. He
sent some one to call to you, saying, O ye dry
bones, hear ye the word of the Lord. Awake thou
that sleepest and arise from the dead. By the in
fluences of his Spirit, the call was rendered in some
measure effectual. These influences were, howev
er, as yet exerted only in operating upon your ra-

MADE ALIVE. 315
tional powers and faculties. Your attention was
roused, and turned to religious objects. Your slum
bering consciences were awakened, and began to
review your past lives, and present characters ; to
compare them with the divine requirements, and to
upbraid you with your numerous deficiencies. Your
understandings were convinced, that something
must be done, and done speedily. The new objects
thus presented to your mind, and the new interest
which they excited, weakened the influence of
worldly objects, and rendered you less eager in
their pursuit. You began to read the scriptures,
and other religious books, with something of a de
sire to understand them. You felt disposed, you
could scarcely tell why, to associate with pious per
sons, to hear religious conversation, and to fre
quent religious meetings. You listened with more
interest, than formerly, to the preached word ; you
felt yourselves personally addressed, and the truths
which you heard, sometimes pleased, sometimes of
fended, and sometimes condemned and distressed
you. Thus your attention was more and more
strongly fixed on religious subjects ; and the inter
est, which they had excited, increased. But still
you were far from being sensible of your true char
acter and situation. You did not know, or even
suspect, that you were dead in trespasses and sins ;
that your minds were enmity against God, or that
it was impossible for you, in your situation at that
time to please him. Ignorant of God's righteous
ness, you went about to establish your own, and

316 THE DEAD IN SIN
refused to submit to the righteousness of God.
While engaged in this fruitless attempt, your
minds were agitated and perplexed by various and
conflicting emotions. Sometimes you imagined
that you were almost a Christian, and not far from
the kingdom of heaven. Then some new discov
ery of the wickedness of your hearts seemed to
put you farther from it than ever. In consequence
of repeated disappointments of this kind, you
were often strongly tempted to entertain hard
thoughts of God. You falsely imagined, that you
were willing to come to Christ, but could not ; and
that God refused you the necessary assistance.
Hence you were often tempted to go back, and
give up your religious pursuits in despair. But
this you found impossible. The burden of guilt,
and the deep anxiety which you now felt, would
not allow you to rest, though you felt more and
more at a loss what to do, or to conjecture the
cause of your ill success. By slow degrees, how
ever, you begin to discover the cause. The com
mandment, as the apostle expresses it, came to
you more clearly and powerfully ; and as its light
increased, sin revived and you died. You began
to perceive something of that spiritual death, of
which you had not been aware. You found, that
in you there dwelt no good thing, that your hearts
were impenetrably hard and insensible ; that all
your religious duties had proceeded from selfish
principles, and were, of course, abominable in the
sight of God. Then you felt, more than ever,

MADE ALIVE. 317
your need of a Saviour ; but, at the same time,
more unable, or more unwilling than ever, to come
to him. But, at length, you were made to see
clearly, that the fault was your own ; that you
would not come to Christ for life ; and that you
were dead, utterly dead, in trespasses and sins,
and that, unless God interposed to save you, you
should remain dead forever. This led you to sub
mit, unconditionally, to sovereign mercy, and pre
pared you to feel, that, if ever you were saved, you
must be saved by grace, and to give all the glory
of your salvation to him, to whom it is due. Thus
the preparatory work was accomplished, and he,
whose work it was, saw that all obstacles to the
display of his grace were removed ; and then, as
the apostle expresses it, by the working of that
mighty power which wrought in Christ, when he
raised him from the dead, he breathed into you the
Spirit of life, and you became a living soul. At
first, however, you were perhaps scarcely con
scious of the wonderful change, or, at least, were
conscious of it only by its happy effects. But these
effects were such, as could result from nothing but
the communication of spiritual life.
You found yourselves as it were, in a new world.
A new and interesting class of beings and objects,
which had always surrounded you, but which you
had hitherto never perceived, now presented them
selves to your wew ; and the scriptures, which had
heretofore seemed like the earth, at its first crea
tion, a mighty chaos, without form and void, now

318 THE DEAD IN SIN
appeared to you full of beauty, order and harmony.
This was the consequence of your possessing those
spiritual senses, which ever accompany spiritual
life ; and which enable the possessor to discern
both good and evil. You now began, for instance,
to possess and to exercise spiritual sight. The
eyes of your understanding were opened to see
wondrous things out of God's law. Among these
wondrous things, one object appeared preeminently
glorious, beautiful and lovely. This was Christ,
the Sun of Righteousness. The light, which flow
ed from him, rendered both himself and other
spiritual objects visible. The wondrous plan of
salvation by him, now opened to you : you began
to know God, and Jesus Christ, whom he hath
sent, a knowledge of whom is eternal life, and to
understand something of the various offices, which
Christ sustains with respect to his people. At the
same time, you began to hear God's voice in his
word and in the dispensations of his providence.
You could now hear him speaking peace to his peo
ple and to his servants, and the sound was music
to your ears. You were also endued with spiritual
feeling. Your hearts of stone were transformed to
flesh, and you became susceptible of deep and lasting
impressions from religious objects, and felt a quick
sensibility when they were presented to your minds.
Nor were you devoid of spiritual taste. You could
now taste and see that the Lord is .good ; you hun
gered and thirsted after righteousness ; and, as
new-born babes, desired the sincere milk of the

MADE ALIVE. 319
word. And while you were thus endued with new
senses, adapted to perceive spiritual objects, the
new life, which God had given you, began to spread
through all the powers and faculties of your nature,
rendering them instruments of righteousness unto
holiness Having thus restored you to life, God
next proceeded,
2. To raise you from the grave of sin, and cause
you to sit together in heavenly places with Christ
Jesus. The situation, which had suited and pleased
you, while in a state of spiritual death, became dis
agreeable and irksome to you, when restored to
life. The spirit of disobedience, which had
wrought in you, was banished, and succeeded by
the Holy Spirit, the author of life and peace. You
could no longer walk according to the course of
this world, nor were you any longer children of
wrath. God, therefore, by freely pardoning all
your sins, removed the load of guilt and wrath,
which, like the great stone at the door of Christ's
sepulchre, had confined you to the tomb ; called
you out from among the dead, who had hitherto
been your associates ; added you to his church, as
members of the great body of Christ ; conferred on
you the name and the privileges of sons and heirs
of God, and thus gave you a title to the heavenly
inheritance, and did, in effect, make you sit togeth
er in heavenly places in Christ Jesus. Believing
in him, you were sealed with that Holy Spirit of
promise, which is the earnest of the heavenly in
heritance. By the influences of the same Spirit

320 THE DEAD IN SIN
you were taught, as are all who have risen with
Christ, to set your affections on things above, to
look at things unseen and eternal ; and to seek for
that heavenly city, into which Christ as the fore
runner of his people, has entered to take possession
in their name, and to prepare a mansion, which
shall receive them at death ; when yoU shall actu
ally sit down with him on his throne in the heavenly
places, and live and reign with him forever and
ever. 3. We are told what prompted God to raise you
from the dead, and confer on you these unmerited
favors, namely, his own sovereign, self-moved
goodness. God, says the apostle, who is rich in
mercy, for the great love wherewith he loved us,
even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened
us together with Christ ; for by grace are ye saved
not of works, lest any man should boast. That
nothing but sovereign grace thus saved you ; and
that nothing but God's self-moved goodness or love
prompted Mm to bestow on you that grace, is evi
dent from the description already given of your
/ natural character and situation. You were by
nature dead in trespasses and sins. Of course, you
did not raise yourselves from the dead. You did
not even know, that you were dead, nor had you
one desire to be raised from death, till God gave it
you, much less did you, while in that state, perform
• any good works, to merit God's favor. On the
contrary, you were children of wrath, and deserved
nothing but the wrath of God forever. Nothing

MADE ALIVE. 321
but God's grace, then, or in other words, nothing
but his unmerited favor, raised you from this state,
and nothing but his love led him to grant you that
grace. But how could he love those who were
dead in trespasses and sins, and consequently more
hateful in his sight, than a putrefying corpse is in
ours ? I answer, — he loved you as in Christ, and
merely for the sake of Christ, whom he had from
eternity appointed to be your covenant head. Our
Saviour, you recollect, often speaks of a people,
who were given to him by his Father. All that
the Father giveth me, says he, shall come to me ;
and this is the will of my Father, that of all that
he has given me I should lose none. Now of all,
who were thus given to Christ, he was from eter
nity appointed to be the covenant head. Hence
we find the apostle, in the preceding chapter,
saying of himself and all other Christians, Blessed
be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
who hath blessed us with all spiritual blessings in
Christ Jesus, according as he hath chosen us in
him, before the foundation of the world, that we
should be holy and without blame before him in
love. Of this people, thus chosen in Christ as
their head, and given to him, you, my Christian
friends, were a part, and as such, God loved you.
As he says to his ancient people, I have loved you
with an everlasting love, therefore with loving
kindness have I drawn you ; so we may consider
him as saying to us, I have loved you in Christ,
41

322 THE DEAD IN SIN
and for his sake, with an everlasting love, therefore
I have raised you from the death of sin.
Hence the apostle, speaking of Christians, says,
God hath saved us, and called us with an holy cal
ling, not according to our works, but according to
his own purpose and grace which was given us in
Christ Jesus before the world began. Here then,
my Christian friends, you may trace up the streams
of your happiness to the fountain, and see them all
flowing from the great abyss of God's eternal, sov
ereign, distinguishing love. And his design, in
thus loving and saving you, was, as the apostle in
forms us in the verse succeeding our text, that, in
the ages to come, he might shew the exceeding
riches of his grace in his kindness toward us
through Christ Jesus. Not for your sakes, then
may he say, do I this, be it known to you, but for
my great name's sake, that it may be glorified
thereby. Not unto us, then may we in turn reply,
not unto us, but unto thy great name alone, O
Lord, be all the glory and all the praise.
APPLICATION.
1. My Christian friends, has God done all this
for you ? Has he loved you with an everlasting
love ? Has he quickened you, when you were
dead in trespasses and sins ; has he raised you up
together and made you sit together in heavenly
places in Christ Jesus ? Has he done all this for
children of wrath, done it for you of mere grace

MADE ALIVE. 323
or mercy, without any desert of sueh favors on
your part ? Need any thing, then, be said to con
vince you, that you ought to love him, to praise
him, to live to him and him only ? If it is a sin
not to be grateful for life, is it not a much greater
sin to feel no gratitude for the gift of spiritual and
eternal life ? If sinners ought to love him, who
created them, because he is the former of their
bodies, and the father of their spirits, ought not
you much more to love him for creating you anew
in Christ Jesus unto good works ? What sum
would induce you to be again thrown back into
the awful situation from which his grace has raised
you ? What would tempt you to consent to be
again dead in trespasses and sins, under the power
of Satan, and children of wrath, and in a state- of
awful uncertainty, whether you ever awake ? For
what would you sell the gifts, which you hope a
benevolent God has given you ? Would you ex
change them for all the worlds he ever created ?
If not, you ought to be as grateful, as if he had
actually given you all these worlds ; for, in fact, he
has given you more. O then, bless the Lord, and
forget not all his benefits. Let the love of Christ
constrain us. Let me urge and entreat you, by
the tender mercies of God, by all that he has done
for you, by all that you hope for, to present your
bodies and your souls a living sacrifice holy and
acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable
service. 2. Has God done all this for you ? then he will

324 THE DEAD IN SIN
do more. Has he loved you from eternity ? then
he will love you to eternity. Has he raised you
from spiritual death ? then he will never suffer you
to fall under the power of death a second time.
Has he given you spiritual life ? then he will give
it more abundantly. Has he made you sit to
gether in heavenly places in Christ Jesus ? Then,
as surely as Christ ascended to heaven after
his resurrection, so surely shall you ascend to
heaven, and sit down together with him there for
ever and ever. This is evident from the design,
which God had in view in raising you from spirit
ual death. He did it, as our text informs us, that,
in the ages to come, he might display the exceed
ing riches of his grace in his kindness toward us
in Christ Jesus. But should he cease to carry on
the work he has begun, the riches of his grace
could not be displayed ; all the glory of his grace
would be obscured, and all that he has done for
you, would be worse than thrown away. For his
name's sake, for his glory's sake, therefore, he
will continue to carry on the work he has begun in
you, and render it perfect in the day of Christ Je
sus. Be not then discouraged by the difficulties
and obstacles you meet with ; work out your sal
vation with fear and trembling, knowing that God
worketh in you to will and to do. He will give
more grace. He will perfect that which concern-
eth you ; he will not. forsake the work of his own
hands. Plead with him, then, what he has done,
as a reason why he should do more. Cry to him,

MADE ALIVE. 325
with the Psalmist, thou hast delivered my soul from
death ; wilt thou not deliver my feet from falling,
and my eyes from tears ?
To conclude — We have already observed, my
impenitent hearers, that what Christians once were,
you are still. You are dead in trespasses and
sins ; you are walking according to the course of
this world, according to the prince of the power
of the air, and are, of course, children of wrath.
Whether God will ever raise you from this state, is
altogether uncertain. He has no where promised
that he will. You are altogether unworthy of
such a favor. You are condemned already, and
he may, of course, justly leave you to perish. If
you ask what you shall do ; God's answer is,
Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the
dead, and Christ shall give thee light. If you re
ply, We cannot do this,— I can only say, I have no
commission to notice such an excuse ; my busi
ness is to bring you God's messages. This I have
done in his own words. Consider how you will
treat them.

326 UNIVERSAL LAW
8ERMOI XVII.
UNIVERSAL LAW OF FORGIVENESS.
LUES SVII. 3, 4.
IF THY BROTHER TRESPASS AGAINST THEE, REBUKE HIM; AND IF HE
REPENT, FORGIVE HIM. AND IF HE TRESPASS AGAINST THEE SEVEN
TIMES IN A DAY, AND SEVEN TIMES IN A DAY TURN AGAIN TO
THEE, SAYING, 1 REPENT ; THOU SHALT FORGIVE HIM.
On hearing this passage read, you will probably
conclude, that the duty of forgiving those who in
jure us, is to be the subject of discussion. That
^s, indeed, an important subject, and a subject, to
the consideration of which our text would natural
ly lead us. I do not, however, at present propose
to discuss it. I wish to make a somewhat differ
ent use of this passage. I wish to set before you
the proof, which it indirectly exhibits, of our Sa
viour's readiness to forgive, again and again, those
who trespass against him. It may, I conceive, be
very satisfactorily shewn, that he regulates his own
conduct by the rule, which he here gives to us,
that he is quite as ready to forgive, as he requires
us to be, and that, however frequently we may
have trespassed against him, he will, if we repent
of our trespasses, forgive us. And it is highly im
portant, that his people should entertain a deep,
heartfelt conviction of this truth ; for many of the
evils under which they groan, result from the want
of such a conviction, or from their not having just
and adequate views of the boundless extent of his

OF FORGIVENESS. 327
pardoning mercy. They believe that it is great,
but are far from seeing how great it really is.
They believe that he can forgive them once, twice,
thrice, and they find that he does so. But when,
after being often forgiven, they are betrayed into
new offences, they not unfrequently begin to think
that he must be weary of forgiving them, and that
it will be little better than an insult to ask him to
forgive them again. Hence they dare not implore
his forgiveness, dare not approach him with confi
dence, but remain at a distance, unpardoned, op
pressed with conscious guilt, and a prey to gloomy,
desponding, apprehensions. They have no cour
age to attempt the performance of difficult duties,
no strength to resist temptations ; their comfort is
gone, their religious progress is interrupted. Thus
a sin, which, had it been immediately repented of
and confessed, would have been pardoned, becomes
the occasion of many sins, and perhaps of a long
course of declension. Now all these evils would be
prevented by adequate views of our Saviour's read
iness to forgive. Of course, it is highly important,
that all his people should possess such views. I
shall therefore, endeavor to shew, that if we tres
pass against Christ seven times, or any number of
times, in a day, and as often turn unto him in the
exercise of unfeigned repentance, he will freely
forgive us, and restore us to favor. But before we
proceed to establish this truth, it will be necessary
to make some remarks with a view to illustrate its

328 UNIVERSAL LAW
import, and prevent dangerous mistakes. And,
1. It must be carefully kept in mind, that the
rule, which our Saviour here gives us, relates not
to what men would call crimes, not to those gross
public offences, which transgress the laws and dis
turb the peace of society ; nor even to gross
injuries, but to trespasses only. We cannot suppose
him to mean, that if a man should attempt seven
times in a day to murder, or rob us, or to steal our
property, and, when detected, should say, I repent,
— we must forgive him, and suffer him to go at
large unpunished. It would be perfectly evident
in such a case, that the offender did not repent,
and that his professed repentance was all a pretence.
The word, trespass, seems to mean offences of a
different kind, and of a more private nature ; such
offences as a man may be led into repeatedly by
misapprehension, or sudden passion, or an unhappy
temper. These causes may, it is evident, lead
men to offend, and to offend often, those whom
they really love. They may lead a relative, a
friend, a christian brother, or one, on whom we have
conferred favors, to speak reproachfully, to treat
us unkindly, to withhold such acts and expressions
of kindness, as we had a right to expect, and in
various other ways to wound our feelings. Now
offences of this nature, are what our Saviour means
by trespasses, and such trespasses, however often
they may be repeated, we are to forgive, if the
offender expresses sorrow and asks forgiveness. It
is to offences of a similar nature, committed against

OF FORGIVENESS. 329
Christ by his disciples, that we refer in the present
discourse. He, it will be recollected, sustains with
respect to his people various offices and various
relations. He is their master, their teacher, their
shepherd, their guide, their advocate, their bene
factor, their brother, their friend. He has, therefore,
a right to be regarded and treated as such. He
has a right to expect their obedience, their confi
dence, their gratitude and love ; in a word, their
supreme affection and regard. He has also a right
to expect, that they will follow him wherever he
leads the way ; that they will be contented and sat
isfied with all his dispensations, and that his honor
and interest shall lie near their hearts. Whenever
his people forget and overlook their rights, when
they cease to regard and treat him as he deserves ;
when their love and gratitude grow cold ; when
their confidence in him declines, and they in
dulge doubts and suspicions respecting his faithful
ness ; when they murmur, repine, or become
discontented with his allotments ; when they feel
little concern for his cause ; in- short, when they
neglect to do what will please him, or indulge in
any thing, which they know will grieve or offend
him, then they are guilty of trespassing against
Christ ; for all offences of this nature are directly
against him. They are not, strictly and literally
speaking, direct violations of the moral law ; nor
are they committed directly against God the
Father, though he is, of course, offended whenever
he sees his Son treated unworthily ; but they are,
42

330 UNIVERSAL LAW
in the strictest sense, trespasses against Christ,
considered as sustaining all those offices and rela-
lations, which were mentioned above. They are
trespasses against one, who has condescended to
become our brother, benefactor and friend ; and he
might justly be provoked by them to withdraw and
hide himself from the offenders, and to suspend all
further bestowal of his favor, all his kind interpo
sitions on their behalf. Now these trespasses
against Christ include all the sins, into which his
people are most liable to fall, and almost the only
sins, into which they are liable to fall frequently ;
for Christians will not sin wilfully, nor will any
Christian be frequently guilty of gross and open
offences. But any Christian may trespass against
Christ, we cannot say how frequently, in some of
the ways, which have just been mentioned. He
may daily, and many times in a day, grieve his
Saviour, by the want of right feelings towards him,
or by the exercise of those which are wrong. Many
times in a day he may forget him, or think of him
without gratitude, confidence and love ; at all times
his affection for his Saviour falls very far short of
what he deserves. Now these are the trespasses
which, however often repeated, Christ will always
forgive, as soon as we turn to him in the exercise
of repentance : and should we grieve and offend him
by such trespasses seven times, or seventy times
seven in a day, and continue thus to multiply our
trespasses for years, still, every new exercise of
repentance on our part, would be followed by a

OF FORGIVENESS. 331
new act of forgiveness on his. But let no bold pre
sumptuous offender infer from .this truth, that
Christ will, -in like manner, forgive known, wilful,
deliberate sins. Let no one suppose, that he may
be daily or frequently guilty of fraud, or intoxica
tion, or profaneness, or of any wilful transgression,
and yet escape punishment by saying at night, I
repent. It is most evident, that such a man does
not repent, that he is not a disciple of Christ, that
he has no part nor lot in the matter. This leads
me to remark,
2. That, in the rule which our Saviour here
gives, he requires us to forgive an offending broth
er on his professing repentance, or on his exhibit
ing external evidence that he repents. As we
cannot search the heart, this external evidence is
all which we can justly require or expect ; and
where this evidence is given, we must charitably
hope that the repentance is sincere. But our Sav
iour, it must be recollected, can search the heart.
He therefore cannot, and ought not, to be satisfied
with any professions or external evidences of repen
tance, or with any thing indeed but repentance it
self. In this respect, therefore, the rule before us,
considered as adopted by our Saviour for the reg
ulation of his conduct, must be slightly varied. We
must forgive, when offenders seem to repent. He
will forgive, when they really do repent. We re
mark, 3. That the word, forgiveness, may be used in
two senses somewhat different. It may be used to

332 UNIVERSAL LAW
signify either an official act, or the act of a private
individual. Considered as an official act, forgive
ness is the remission of deserved punishment, or of
that punishment, to which transgressors are legally
doomed. In this sense, forgiveness can be grant
ed only by one, who has authority to do it. It can
not be granted by a private individual. No pri
vate individual, for instance, can forgive- or pardon
a murderer. No such individual has any right to
say, that a murderer shall not be punished. But
forgiveness, considered as the act of a private in
dividual, is something different. It consists in lay
ing aside all feelings of revenge, and ill will, and
displeasure, towards the offender, and in restoring
him to the same place in our favor and friendship,
which he held previous to his trespass. Now it is
more especially, though not exclusively, in the lat
ter sense, that we use the word forgiveness in the
present discourse. What we mean to assert is,
that Jesus Christ, not in his judicial character, but
in his private capacity as an individual, will forgive
every penitent, however frequently he may have
trespassed against him. In other words, he will
entertain no feelings of displeasure towards the
penitent offender, will regard him with no coldness,
but will restore him to his favor, and receive him
with as much affection as if he had never offended
him. Not only so, but he will continue to act as
his Saviour and Advocate, and intercede for him,
that he may be forgiven by his Father. This
view of the subject will be found to meet ex-

OF FORGIVENESS. 333
actly the case and the wants of one, who feels con
scious that be needs forgiveness, but who is asham
ed or afraid to ask it. Ask such a man the cause
of his guilty fears and apprehensions, and he will
reply, I have sinned against God, I have transgress
ed his law, and am justly condemned to die. Re
mind him, that God is ready to forgive every sin
ner, for whom Christ intercedes, and that Christ, is
equally ready to intercede for all who trust in him,
and he will reply, I am ashamed to ask Christ to
intercede for me, I have trespassed against him so
often, have so often been forgiven, and abused his
kindness afresh, and my whole treatment of him
has been such a series of distrust, ingratitude, and
want of affection, that it seems as if it must be im
possible for him to pardon me again, and as if I
ought not to ask it. But let such a man be con
vinced that his much injured Saviour has adopted
his own rule with respect to forgiveness, and that
he will receive with unabated kindness every peni
tent, however numerous his trespasses may be, or
however frequently he may have been previously
forgiven ; I say, let him be convinced of these
truths, and his dfficulties will vanish ; he will again
repent, and again be forgiven. And when he has
thus obtained his injured Saviour's forgiveness, he
will through his intercession obtain forgiveness of
God. Having thus shewn what is meant by the asser
tion, that our Saviour regulates his conduct to
wards his offending people by the rule, which he

334 UNIVERSAL LAW
has given us in the text, and that he is therefore as
ready to forgive, as he requires them to be, — we
proceed, II. To shew what reason we have for believing
this assertion. We have reason to believe it,
1. Because the relations, which Jesus Christ has
taken upon himself, require that he should regu
late his conduct by this rule. By assuming our
nature, he has become, in the sense of the text,
our brother. Agreeably, we are informed, that he
is not ashamed to call us brethren. He taught the
same truth, when he said to his disciples, I ascend
unto my Father and to your Father ; for they who
have the same father are brethren. He is also
said to be the first-born among many brethren.
Now if Jesus Christ has condescended to take up
on himself the relation of a brother to his people,
we may be assured, that he will faithfully perform
all the duties of that relation. He has thus in ef
fect bound himself to do it. And since he has
taught us, that one duty of a brother is to forgive
the trespasses of a penitent brother, however nu
merous they may be, or however frequently he
may repent, we may be sure, that, if we are peni
tent, he will forgive our trespasses, though they
should be as numberless as the sands of the sea,
and though they may have been repeated after fre^
quent pardons.
Again — By assuming our natute, Jesus Christ
is become a man. Of course, he has brought him
self under obligations to obey all the laws and

OF FORGIVENESS. 335
precepts, which God has given to man. Agreeably
we are informed, that, being made of a woman, he
was made under the law ; that is, was made subject
to its authority, and placed under obligations to
obey it. That it was incumbent on him to obey
all other divine precepts, as well as those of the
moral law, appears from the reply which he made
to John the Baptist previous to his baptism. John
had said to him" on this occasion, I have need to
be baptized of thee, and comest thou to me ? Jesus
answered, Suffer it to be so now, for thus it be-
cometh us to fulfil all righteousness. As if he had
said, It is incumbent on me to obey every divine
precept, and observe every divine institution, and
since baptisni is a divine institution, I must be
baptized. Now if it was incumbent on Jesus Christ,
considered as a man, to obey every divine precept,
it was, of course, incumbent on him to obey those
precepts, which require us to forgive the trespasses
of a penitent brother. And if it was incumbent on
him to regulate his conduct by these precepts, we
may be perfectly sure, that he has done it, and will
do it, since he invariably does what is right.
Once more — When Christ came into this world,
as the Saviour of lost men, he undertook to be
their teacher and guide. As such, it was evidently
proper that he should teach them, not only by pre
cept, but by example. Accordingly we are told,
that he has left i!s an example, and that we should
walk in his steps. But if he has set us an example,
it must be in every respect perfect. It must be a

336 UNIVERSAL LAW
perfect example of forgiveness, as well as of other
duties. And that it may be so, it is necessary, that
he should exhibit the same readiness to forgive,
and to repeat forgiveness, which he requires of us.
If he requires us to forgive a penitent brother,
though he should trespass against us seven times,
or even seventy times seven, he will forgive as
frequently those, who trespass against him ; for it
is impossible to suppose, that in this, or in any
other respect, he will suffer himself .to be excelled
by any of his disciples.
2. We have reason to believe that our Saviour
has adopted the rule before us, for the regulation
of his conduct, because he has, in fact, always acted
in conformity with this rule. However frequently
any of his disciples may have trespassed against
him, they have invariably found him more ready to
forgive, than they were to repent. As it respects
yourselves, those of you, who are his disciples,
know, that this has been the case. You know,
that, after you have spent years in grieving and
offending him and wearying his patience in ten
thousand ways, after you have been a thousand
times forgiven, and have then trespassed again ;
after you had treated him with such unkindness,
ingratitude and neglect, as no human friend or
relation could have borne, he has still been just
as ready to forgive you, when penitent, as if you
had never offended him before. And those of you,
who have been his disciples for many years, know
that he has forgiven you more than seventy thous-

OF FORGIVENESS. 337
and times seven trespasses. You have therefore
ample reason to believe, and all his disciples haye
similar reasons for believing, that he regulates his
conduct, in this respect, by the rule under consid
eration. In passing to a practical improvement of what
has been said, permit " me to remark, that I am
well aware of the manner, in which those, who are
disposed to convert the bread of life into poison,
may abuse this subject. I am aware, that, from
the Saviour's readiness to forgive those who tres
pass against him, they may draw encouragement
to repeat their trespasses. Such men there were
in the days of the apostles ; men, who turned the
grace of God into wantonness, and continued in
sin, because grace abounded. But the apostles
did not therefore conceal the grace of God, neither
should we. We are not to conceal truths, which
will be beneficial to Christ's real disciples, because
his enemies may abuse them. And none but his
enemies will abuse the truth which has now been
exhibited. To all his real friends it will, if believ
ed, prove most salutary. Nothing tends more
powerfully to melt their hearts, to make them
ashamed of their sins, to bring them to deep re
pentance, and to increase their confidence in the
Saviour, than just views of his readiness to forgive,
and to renew his forgiveness, as often as they
renew their trespasses. Such views I have now
endeavored, my christian friends, to give you.
In improving what has been said, allow me to
43

338 UNIVERSAL LAW
place before you the Saviour as he appears in the
light of this subject. See him adorned with every
possible excellence and perfection, uttering the
kindest invitations, and bestowing freely the richest
blessings ; blessings, which cost him labors, priva
tions, and sufferings, the greatness of which we
can never estimate. See him, in return for these
blessings, treated with the most cruel unkindness,
ingratitude and neglect ; wounded in the house of
his friends by those, who have eaten at his table, and
trespassed against, on every side, by multitudes in
ten thousand ways. See him still forgiving all these
trespasses, repeating his forgiveness a thousand and
ten thousand times, maintaining, as it were, a con
test with his people, which shall exceed, they in
trespassing, or he in pardoning. See him invaria
bly gaining the victory in this strange contest, and
constraining each of his disciples in turn to exclaim,
O, who is equal, or like to thee, in forgiving iniqui
ty, transgression and sin ! Christian, can you
contempfate the spectacle without emotion ? Does
it excite no shame or sorrow in your bosom ? Does
it not cause your heart to glow with admiration,
and gratitude, and love to your Saviour, and with
indignation against yourself? And does it not, at
the same time, inspire you with confidence to come
and seek forgiveness afresh ? You expect soon to
approach your Master's table. And you will surely
wish to meet with a kind reception. You surely
will not wish to come borne down with guilty
fears, and harassed by jealousies, doubts and sus-

OF FORGIVENESS. 339
picions. Believe what you have now heard, and
your wishes will be gratified. Believe what you
have heard, and you will repent, you will be for
given, there will be peace between you and your
Saviour, and you will approach his table with con
fidence. Let no one say, I have already been
forgiven so often, that I dare not, cannot ask for
giveness again. Let no one offend his Saviour by
suspecting, that he is less ready to forgive than he
requires us to be. It is a false humility, or rather
it is concealed pride and unbelief, which prevents
us from asking forgiveness and leads us to say, I
am too unworthy to be forgiven. O then, my breth
ren, indulge not these feelings, but rather turn at
once, to Christ, receive his forgiveness, and love
much, because much is forgiven. And while you
receive your pardon, remember what it cost him to
procure it. Remember, that it is wet with his own
blood, and let it be wet with your tears, tears of
deep contrition and repentance.
2. If Christ is so ready to forgive every penitent
offender, then nothing can prevent any offender
from obtaining forgiveness, but his own refusal to
repent. And, O, how great will be the guilt, how
terrible, and yet how just, the punishment of every
one who fails to obtain forgiveness. The guilt of
such a man will be in exact proportion to the
greatness of the mercy, against which he has sin
ned. But there can be no mercy greater than that
which Christ displays. Consequently, there can
be no guilt greater than that of those, who sin

340 UNIVERSAL LAW
against this mercy. My impenitent hearers, cease,
O cease, I beseech you, to incur this aggravated
guilt. If you repent, you will find the Saviour no
less ready to forgive you, than he is to- forgive his
penitent disciples. His language to you is, though
you may have not only trespassed, but sinned wil
fully against me a thousand, and ten thousand
times ; though you may have spent many years in
neglecting and offending me, yet I am still ready
to forgive you ; I wish to forgive you, but I must
not, I cannot forgive any, who refuse to repent.
My hearers, how is it possible that any man can
retain a good opinion of himself, or refrain from
despising himself, while conscious that he is insen
sible to such goodness ; that he is not affected by ,
the invitations of a Saviour so ready to forgive ;
that he is refusing to accept of forgiveness and
salvation on terms so reasonable, so easy ? How
is it possible, that he should not say to himself,
surely I must be devoid of all sensibility ; I must
be a stranger to every ingenuous feeling ; I must
be incapable of gratitude ; I must have a heart of
stone, or I could not hear, without emotion, of
goodness so unbounded, or refuse to seek forgive
ness, when it is offered on terms like these. My
hearers, will any of you, can any of you, persist in
refusing to comply with these terms ! Will you
leave this house unpardoned, when the Saviour is
present and ready to forgive, in a moment, every
one, who will return to him, saying from the heart,
Lord, I repent. It should seem impossible, that

OF FORGIVENESS. 341
any one can choose to go away unpardoned, rather
than comply with these terms ; and yet it is but too
probable, that many will do it. What is still worse,
it is but too probable, that some will take encour
agement from the Saviour's mercy to delay repen
tance, and repeat their trespasses with hopes of
impunity. But if any are tempted to do this, let
them recollect, that our Saviour cannot regulate
his conduct by the rule before us, at his second
coming. At his first appearing, he came, not as a
judge, but as a Saviour ; and it was proper that,
in this character, he should display unbounded
readiness to forgive. But at his second appearing,
he will come, not as a Saviour, but as a judge ;
and in that character, he will be constrained to
proceed according to the strict rules of justice.
Those, therefore, who now refuse mercy, will then
have judgment without mercy. O, then, seek the
Lord, while he may be found ; call ye upon him,
while he is near. Kiss the Son, lest he be angry,
and ye perish from the way, and sink to that world,
where the sound of pardon will never break in
upon the wailings of despair.

342 FRAUD EXPOSED

SERMON XVUI.
FRAUD EXPOSED AND CONDEMNED.
PROVERBS, XX. 14.
IT IS NAUGHT, IT IS NAUGHT, SAITH THE BUYER: BUT WHEN HE IS GONE
HIS WAY, THEN HE BOASTETH.
It is impossible to peruse the scriptures atten
tively, without finding, in almost every page, the
most convincing proofs, that, since the fall, human
nature has ever been the same ; that the men of
former ages strikingly resembled, in character and
conduct, the present inhabitants of the world.
How exactly, for instance, does the remark of the
wise man in our text correspond with what is still
daily witnessed in the commercial intercourse be
tween man and man. He is here describing the
means, which were, in his day, employed by a
dishonest buyer to procure the articles, which he
wished to'purchase, for less than their real worth.
He represents him as, with this view, exaggerating
their defects, and pretending that they are worth
less. If is naught, it is naught, saith the buyer ; —
the article you would sell me is of an inferior
quality ; the price you put upon it is too high ; even
if it is worth so much to others, it is not worth so
much to me, as I have no particular use for it, and
do not care to purchase it. But when he is gone
his way, when he has by these means obtained an
article for less than its value, then he boasteth ;

AND CONDEMNED 343
boasts of his skill and success in making a bargain ;
or at least secretly exults in it, if he dares not speak
of it openly ; and perhaps despises the man, of
whom he has thus gained an advantage.
My hearers, I need not inform you, that the man
who would be really religious, must be influenced
by religion in every part of his conduct ; and on
all occasions, during the week, as well as on the
Sabbath ; in his intercourse with man, as well as
in his approaches to God. Nor need I remind you,
that no man can be a disciple of Christ, who does
not yield to the authority of Christ ; whose heart,
and hand, and tongue, are not governed by the
laws of Christ. Now if you consider, a moment,
how many of this congregation are constantly em
ployed in pecuniary transactions ; how frequently
almost every man is called to engage in them ;
how large a portion of your time they occupy ;
how many opportunities you have of doing wrong,
and how constantly, how powerfully, you are temp
ted by your own self love, the selfishness of others,
and the example of the world, to deviate from the
path of rectitude, — you will feel convinced, that,
to conduct your worldly business in a perfectly fair
and upright manner, in such a manner as God
prescribes, is a most important and difficult part of
true religion ; and that it is indispensably necessary
to turn your attention frequently and seriously to
this subject. It is a conviction of this truth, which
has induced me to address you on the passage be
fore us. And I wish it to be distinctly understood,

344 FRAUD EXPOSED
that I am preaching not to one, nor to a few, but
to all. It is nothing, which I have seen, nothing
which I have heard respecting the conduct of in
dividuals, that has induced me to address you on
this subject ; but it is a conviction, that it is a most
important subject, a subject in which all are inter
ested, and which is intimately connected with the
honor of religion, with your own salvation.
In discoursing upon this subject, I shall not con
fine my remarks to the. particular case mentioned
in the text, the case of a buyer, but shall extend
them to pecuniary transactions of every kind ;
whether they are carried on between buyers and
sellers, or masters and servants, or employers and
those whom they employ. It will not, however, be
expected, that I should discuss every difficult ques
tion, which may be asked, or give particular direc
tions respecting every perplexing case, which may
occur ; since to do this in a single discourse would
be impossible. I shall, therefore, pursue the meth
od, which* God has adopted in his word. - He
there gives us general rules, which may be applied
to every particular case that can occur ; rules
sufficient for the direction of every one, who sin
cerely wishes to know and perform his duty. I
shall, in the first place, mention some of these
general rules, which God has given us for this pur
pose ; and then shew, more particularly, what these
rules require, and when we are guilty of violating,
or neglecting them.
The first general rule which I shall mention, is

AND CONDEMNED. 345
that which requires us to love our neighbor as our
selves. This rule is indeed applicable, not only to
all our pecuniary transactions, but to all our inter
course with our fellow creatures; so that a man,
who should observe it, would need no other rule to
direct him on all occasions. As our whole duty,
with respect to God, is virtually included in loving
him with all our hearts, so our whole duty with res
pect to men, may be summed up in loving them as
we love ourselves. Agreeably, the apostle observes,
that love worketh no ill to our neighbor, therefore
love is the fulfilling of the law ; for the commands,
thou shalt not kill, thou shalt not steal, thou shalt
not bear false witness, thou shalt not covet, are all
contained in this one word, thou shalt love thy
neighbor as thyself.
Nearly of the same import, and equally applica
ble to every case which can occur, is our Saviour's
rule, whatsoever ye would that men should do to
you, do ye even so to them. This rule is the more
deserving of our attention, because it is one of the
sayings, which Christ had just uttered, when he
said, whosoever heareth these sayings of mine and
doeth them not, is like a foolish man, who built his
house upon the sand : and the rain descended, and
the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat
upon that house, and it fell ; and great was the
fall of it.
Another general rule, connected with this sub
ject, is that which forbids us to covet any part
of our neighbor's possessions. The command is
44

346 FRAUD EXPOSED
express and comprehensive. Thou shalt not covet
any thing that is thy neighbor's. To covet, literal
ly signifies, to desire. This command does not,
however, forbid us to desire the property of another
on fair and equitable terms. It does not forbid us
to desire what our neighbor wishes to part with,
provided we are willing to give him a suitable
equivalent in return. But it forbids every desire to
increase our property at our neighbor's expense.
It forbids us to wish, that any thing should be taken
from his possessions and added to our own. Of
course, it forbids the employment of any means to
increase our property by diminishing the property
of our neighbor.
Again — we are frequently and expressly com
manded strictly to observe, in all our transactions,
the rules of justice, truth, and sincerity ; to deal
justly; to defraud no one, to deceive no one, to
speak every man truth to his neighbor. God's
language #is, Ye shall not deal falsely or deceitfully.
Just balances, just weights, and just measures, shall
ye have. If ye sell aught to your neighbor, or buy
aught at your neighbor's hand, ye shall not injure
one another. Ye shall not oppress the hireling in
his wages. Give to your servants that which is
just and equal. Render to all their dues ; tribute
to whom tribute is due ; custom, to whom custom.
To sum up all in a word, we are informed that,
this is the will of God, that no man should over
reach or defraud another in any matter ; for, said

AND CONDEMNED. 347
the apostle, the Lord is the avenger of all such.
This leads me to observe,
Lastly, that we are directed, in all our transac
tions, to remember, that the eye of God is upon us,
and that he is a witness between us arid our fellow
creatures, when no other witness is present. Such
are the principal rules, which God has given us for
the regulation of our conduct in all our pecuniary
transactions ; rules, which are amply sufficient for
our direction, in every case which can possibly
occur. II. Let us now proceed, as was proposed, to ap
ply these rules more particularly, and shew what
they require, what they forbid, and when they are
violated. And,
1. Let us consider what these rules require of
us as subjects, or members of civil society. And
here we may observe, that they evidently require
us strictly to observe the laws of our country with
respect to the public revenue, to contribute that
proportion of our property to the general and state
governments, which those laws require ; and to use
no artifices, or evasions, with a view to avoid pay
ing that proportion. Our Saviour, when asked by
the Jews whether it were right to pay tribute to
Caesar, the Roman Emperor, replied, Render to
Caesar the things that are Caesar's. Now if he re
quired them to pay tribute to a foreign power, by
whom they had been conquered, so long as they
remained the subjects of that power, much more
would he enjoin it upon us to pay tribute to a

348 FRAUD EXPOSED
government of our own forming, to rulers of our
own choosing. Agreeably we are expressly com
manded to pay tribute and custom to those, to whom
tribute and custom are due ; to submit to every ordi
nance of man for the Lord's sake. The justice, and
propriety of these commands, is obvious. There is
an implied contract, or agreement between a gov
ernment and its subjects, by which the subjects
engage to give a portion of their property in ex
change for the blessings of protection, security, and
social order. So long as they enjoy these blessings,
they receive a valuable consideration for the sums
which they contribute, or, in other words, for the
taxes which they pay for the support of govern
ment. It is also evident, that the man, who pos
sesses a large share of wealth, derives greater
advantages from the laws of the land, and from the
protection afforded by civil authority, than the man
who ' possesses little or nothing. Or, to place the
subject in a little different light, — civil governments
insure to their subjects the protection of their rights
and property from injustice and violence ; of course,
they have a right to demand a premium for this in
surance. This premium ought to be greater or less,
in proportion to the property thus insured ; in other
words, every man is bound in justice to contribute
to the support of law and government, in propor
tion to his property. This is as just a debt as any
other which can be named. The man, who by
artifice or deceit, avoids contributing in proportion
to his property, is guilty of injustice and dishonesty.

AND CONDEMNED. 349
He not only defrauds the government, but does in
effect defraud his fellow citizens ; for if he contrib
utes less than his proportion, others must contribute
more to make up the deficiency. These remarks
apply with equal force to those, who introduce
foreign goods into the country, without paying those
duties, which the laws require. This practice is
contrary to the plain, express commands of God ;
it is contrary to the rules of justice arid honesty ; it
involves deceit and artifice, and it is well if perjury
be not added to the list, if the name of God and
the solemnities of an oath are not impiously em
ployed to conceal the fraud.
I am constrained to add, that it is little less
criminal knowingly to purchase from the wharf,
any merchandize, thus illegally introduced ; for we
thus become partakers in other men's sins, and we
tempt them to repeat those sins, since it is evident
that none would import merchandize in this unlaw
ful manner, if none could be found to purchase it.
It is vain to plead, as ari excuse for these things,
that government may waste, or misemploy the sums,
which are put into their hands. We might as well
refuse to pay a just debt, on pretence that our
creditor would make an improper use of the money
if "it were paid. Equally vain is every other ex
cuse, which can be assigned. No man, who means
to do to others, as he wishes that others should do
to him ; no man, who means to obey God ; no man,
who is influenced by the fear of God, or who feels
that the eye of God is upon him, can be guilty of

350 FRAUD EXPOSED
the practices here mentioned. — Permit me, before
I dismiss this part of my subject, to express a hope,
that no one will endeavor to give these remarks a
political bearing, or suspect, that they are aimed
particularly at any individual. They are made
merely with a view to discharge an important offi
cial duty. It is my duty, as a minister of Christ,
to warn you, to guard you against every thing,
which God forbids, against every thing, which may
endanger your immortal interests. Hence, though
fully aware that this is a delicate subject, I did not
dare to waive it.
In the second place, let ys consider the applica
tion of the rules above mentioned to the common
pecuniary transactions of life. It is evident, that,
with respect to these transactions, they forbid every
wish, much more, every attempt to defraud, or de
ceive our neighbor. They render it highly criminal
for the seller to take the smallest advantage of the
ignorance, inexperience, or simplicity of his cus
tomers ; or to conceal any defect, which he may
have discovered in the articles, of which he wishes
to dispose. They render it equally criminal for
the buyer to wish, or attempt to take any ad
vantage of the seller, either by exaggerating the
defects of his merchandize, or by falsely pretending
that he does not wish to purchase. They render
it highly criminal for any onei to contract debts,
when he has no sufficient reason to believe that
he shall be able to discharge them ; or to persuade
another to become responsible for his debts, when

AND CONDEMNED. 351
he has reason to suspect that his sponsor will in
consequence suffer loss. In a word, they require
us to put ourselves in the place of our neighbor,
to be as unwilling to defraud him, as to be defraud
ed ourselves ; to be as careful of his property and
interest, as of our own ; to think no more of en
riching ourselves at his expense, than we should
think of robbing our left hand with our right.
They require us, in all our transactions, to conduct
as we should do, if our fellow creatures could see
our hearts ; for though they cannot see them, yet
God can, and does see them ; he is both witness
and judge between us and our neighbor in every
transaction, and surely his eye ought to be as ef
fectual in regulating our conduct, as would the eye
of our fellow creatures, could they, like him, search
the heart. With every man, who is governed by
the rule above mentioned, this will be the case.
In his most secret transactions, he will conduct as
if all his views, feelings, and conduct, were to be
laid before the public eye. Indeed, he will be
more afraid of injuring his neighbor, than of being
injured himself ; for, in the latter case,' he only
suffers wrong, but in the former case he would do
wrong, and he dreads sin more than suffering.
We might now proceed to shew what these rules
require of us, with respect to those, who are em
ployed in our service ; but after the remarks which
have been already made, this is perhaps needless.
I would only observe, that these rules evidently
forbid us to take any advantage of the necessities,

352 FRAUD EXPOSED
or imprudence of those, whom we employ, and re
quire us to give them a prompt and adequate
compensation for their services, and that, on the
other hand, they make it the duty of all, who are
employed, to be as faithful to the interest of their
employers as to their own, and to avoid defrauding
them of any portion of their time, by idleness, or
of their property by negligence, as they would
avoid theft or robbery. ¦
Having thus shewn what the rules of God's word
require of us, with respect to our pecuniary trans
actions, let us, in the next place, apply these rules
to our past conduct, that we may ascertain how far
we have observed, and in what instances we have
disregarded them. With this view, permit me to
ask each of you, whether, in conducting the busi
ness of life, you have been invariably governed by
these rules ? Have you, in every instance, dealt
with others, as you wish that others should deal
with you ? Have you always acted as under the
eye of God, acted as you would have done, had
your hearts been laid open to your neighbor's
view ? Have you never practised any deception,
artifice, or evasion, in buying or selling, never
taken any advantage of the ignorance, the inexpe
rience or the necessities of others ? Have you
always contributed to the support of government
that proportion of your property, which the laws
required ? Have your servants, or those whom you
employed, never had any reason to complain of
you ? Have those of you, who have been employed

AND CONDEMNED 353
by others, always been strictly faithful to the inter
ests of your employers ? Is there no pecuniary
transaction of your lives, which you would feel
unwilling to have publicly known with all its cir
cumstances ; no one, which men would condemn
were it known to them ? In a word, are you pre
pared to go to the bar of the all-seeing and heart-
searching God, and there be tried by the rules
mentioned above ? My friends, to that bar you
must shortly go, and by these rules you must be
tried. To this test every transaction of your lives
must be brought ; for God will bring every secret
thing into judgment. And, my friends, if your own
hearts condemn you, much more will God condemn
you ; for he is greater than our hearts, and know-
eth all tilings. He will judge without partiality,
favor, or affection. He will make none of those
allowances and excuses for us, which self-love leads
us to make for ourselves ; nor will he allow the
validity of any excuse, which we can offer. Then,
we are told, every one, who hath done wrong, shall
receive punishment for the wrong done, without
any respect of person.
Indeed, we are taught that God takes special
cognizance of those wrongs, which are done by
artifice, fraud, and deceit, and which human laws
cannot prevent or discover. We are told, that the
Lord is the avenger of all, who are overreached,
or defrauded in any matter, and that he will plead
their cause and spoil those who oppress them.
And he forbids us to take revenge of those, who
45

354 FRAUD EXPOSED
have injured us, for this very reason, that he will
himself execute vengeance. Recompense to no
man evil for evil ; for vengeance is mine, I will re
pay, saith the Lord. This vengeance he often
begins to execute in the present life, by depriving
the guilty of that property, which they have iniqui-
tously obtained. This he often threatens to do in
his word, this he often actually does in his provi
dences. This being the case, it surely becomes
every one, who is conscious of having violated the
rules of God, in his pecuniary transactions, to
inquire seriously what he must do. This inquiry
the scriptures will readily answer. They inform
such a man, that his first step must be, to repent,
to repent unfeignedly, before God, for repentance
must always precede forgiveness. No sin can be
pardoned until it is repented of. The blood of
Christ can wash out no stain of guilt, on which the
tear of penitence has not fallen.
In the next place, he must bring forth fruits meet
for repentance. In other words, he must make
restitution to every one whom he has injured, or
defrauded, so far as he can recollect who they are
— this is indispensable. There is no repentance,
and, of course, no forgiveness, without it. How
can a man repent of iniquity, who still retains the
wages of iniquity ? It is impossible. If he feels
any sorrow, it is occasioned, not by hatred of his
sin, but by fear of the consequences. Restitution
then must be made, or the offender must perish.
If thou bring thy gift to the altar, says our Saviour,

AND CONDEMNED. 355
and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught
against thee, that is, any reason to complain of
thee, go thy way, first be reconciled to thy brother,
and then come and offer thy gift. The altar was
then the place, to which the worshippers of God
brought their thank-offerings, gifts, and sacrifices
for sin. Christ, we are told, is now our altar, and
to this altar we must bring our prayers, our praises,
our services. But he plainly intimates, that he will
accept no gift of us, receive no thanks from us, lis
ten to none of our prayers, so long as we neglect
to make satisfaction to those, whom we have injur
ed. And in vain shall we attempt to atone for
neglecting this duty, by performing others, by con
tributing to the promotion of religious objects, or
by liberality to the poor ; for God has said, I hate
robbery for burnt offering ; that is, I hate, I will
not receive an offering, which was unjustly acquir
ed. There is, then, no way but to make restitution ;
and this every real christian will make to the ut
most of his ability. Agreeably, we hear Zaccheus,
the publican, saying, as soon as he became a
christian, if I have wronged any man, I will restore
him fourfold. I am aware, that this is a most dis
agreeable duty. Nothing can be harder, or more
painful to our proud hearts. But it will be far
easier to perform it, than to suffer the consequen
ces of neglecting it. If it is not performed, our
souls must perish, as sure as the word of God is
true ; and in consequence of indulging a false
shame, we shall be overwhelmed with shame and

356 FRAUD EXPOSED.
everlasting contempt. Even as it respects our in
terest in this world only, we had better, far better,
put a blazing fire brand into the midst of our pos
sessions, than retain among them the smallest
particle of gain, which was not fairly obtained ; for
it will bring the curse of God upon us, and upon
all the works of our hands.
And now, my hearers, I have discharged a most
disagreeable, but, as I view it, a most necessary
part of ministerial duty. I have led your attention
to a subject, which it is exceedingly difficult to dis
cuss in the pulpit, and which, for that reason, is
seldom brought to view. I have shewn you, in
what manner God requires you to regulate your
pecuniary transactions. I have shewn you what is
the duty of those, who'have disregarded these re
quirements. And now I request you not to apply
these remarks to others, but to take them home to
yourselves. It is well for him, who can say, with
truth, I have always obeyed in this respect the rules
of God's word. Such an one, if he can be found,
may cast the first stone at his offending neighbor.
To conclude, — while we apply these rules to our
past conduct, let us not forget, that they must reg
ulate our future transactions, if we mean to be the
real subjects of Christ. They are, my professing
friends, the laws of his kingdom, the laws which
you have covenanted to obey. And I dare pledge
ourselves to the world in your name, that no breach
of these laws shall be tolerated in this church, and
that no one, who can be proved to be guilty of dis
regarding them, shall remain a member of it.

SERMOW XIX.
THE MARK OF DELIVERANCE.
EZESIEL IX. 4, 5, 6.
AND THE LORD SAID UNTO HIM, GO THROUGH THE MIDST OF THE CITY,
AND SET A MARK UPON THE FOREHEADS OF THE MEN THAT SIGH AND
CRY FOR ALL THE ABOMINATIONS, THAT BE DONE IN THE MIDST
THEREOF. AND TO THE OTHERS HE SAID IN MY HEARING, GO YE AF
TER HIM THROUGH THE CITY, AND SMITE ; LET NOT YOUR EYE SPARE,
NEITHER HAVE YE PITY ; SLAY UTTERLY OLD AND YOUNG ; BUT COME
NOT NEAR ANY MAN UPON WHOM IS THE MARK.
In the preceding chapter we have an account of
a discovery, made by Jehovah to the prophet
Ezekiel, of the many idolatrous, impious and iniqui
tous practices, which secretly prevailed among the
Jews. Being brought in vision to Jerusalem, the
prophet; was successively conducted to different
places in the city, and introduced into the most
secret recesses of its inhabitants, that he might see
the hidden wickedness, of which they were guilty,
and be convinced, by his own observation, that they
were ripe for ruin. After giving him this view of
the sins of his people, God proceeded to threaten
them with the most tremendous judgments, and
appealed to the prophet, whether these judgments
were not richly deserved. Hast thou seen all this,
says he, O son of man ? Is it a light thing that the
house of Judah commit the abominations that are
committed here ? for they say the Lord seeth not :

358 THE MARK
the Lord hath forsaken the earth ; therefore will I
also deal in fury : mine eye shall not spare, neither
will I have pity, and though they cry with a loud
voice, I will not hear. The fulfilment of these
threatenings was immediately witnessed by the
prophet in vision, but in their execution mercy was
mingled with justice. He cried in mine ears, says
the prophet, Cause them that have charge over the
city to draw near. And behold six men came from
the way of the higher gate, every man with a
slaughter weapon in his hand ; and one man among
them was clothed with linen, with a writer's ink-
horn by his side. And the Lord said unto him,
Go through the midst of the city, and set a mark
upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and cry
for all the abominations, that are done in the midst
thereof. And to the others he said, Go ye after
him through the city and smite. Let not your eye
spare, neither have pity. Slay utterly young and
old, but come not near any man, upon whom is the
mark. My hearers, St. Paul informs us, that all the ca
lamities, which were experienced by the Jews, hap
pened unto them for ensamples to others, and that
they were written for our admonition, upon whom
the ends of the world are come. It, therefore, be
comes us to study their history with the greatest
attention, and to compare their character and con
duct with our own ; that we may derive from it
that instruction, which it is intended to afford ; and,
especially that we may learn what we have reason

OF DELIVERANCE. 359
to expect at the hands of God. In this point of
view, perhaps no part of their history is more inter
esting or instructive, than that of which a repre
sentation is given in our text. We there see, that,
when God commissioned the messengers of ven
geance, who had charge over Jerusalem, to exter
minate its guilty inhabitants, he took care to set a
mark of deliverance upon all who sighed and cried
for the abominations that were perpetrated among
them ; and since God's rules of government and
methods of proceeding with mankind are in all
ages essentially the same, we may, from this partic
ular instance, fairly deduce the following general
proposition ; — When God visits the world, or any
part of it, with his desolating judgments, he usually
sets a mark of deliverance on such as are suitably
affected with the sins of their fellow creatures. To
illustrate and establish this proposition, is my pres
ent design ; and with this view I shall endeavor to
shew what is implied in being suitably affected with
the sins of our fellow creatures ; and, that on such
as are thus affected, God will set a mark of deliv
erance, when others are destroyed by his righteous
judgments. I. What is implied in being suitably affected with
the sins of our fellow creatures ?
That we are naturally disposed to be little or not
at all affected with the sins of others, unless they
tend, either directly or indirectly, to injure our
selves, it is almost needless to remark. If our fel
low creatures infringe none of our real or supposed

360 THE MARK
rights, and abstain from such gross vices, as evi
dently disturb the peace of society, we usually feel
little concern respecting their sins against God;
but can see them following the broad rOad to des-
struction with great coolness and indifference, and
without making any exertion, or feeling much de
sire to turn their feet into a safer path. Our
nearest neighbor may be an atheist, a deist, a pro
fane swearer, a Sabbath breaker, a neglecter of
God and religion, an intemperate man, or any
other character equally remote from that of a
christian, without exciting in our breasts any concern
for the dishonor which he casts upon God, any un
easiness respecting his awfully dangerous situation,
or any anxiety to convince him of the error of his
ways. Nay more, we are naturally but too much
disposed to contemplate the sins of our fellow
creatures with pleasure, either because the contrast
between their vices and our own virtues gratifies
our pride, or because their wicked practices seem
to justify burs, and encourage us to hope for impu
nity in sin. In short, the lahgpage of our feelings
and of our actions naturally is, what have I to do
with my neighbor's conduct or belief ? or what is
it to me how he lives ? Let him, if he pleases, dis
obey and dishonor God, and ruin his own soul,
provided he will not injure me. It is no concern of
mine : he must look to himself; am I my brother's
keeper ? Nor is it at all surprising, that this should
be our language, for we naturally think as little of
our own souls, or of our own sins, as of those of

OF DELIVERANCE. 361
our neighbors ; and it can scarcely be expected,
that he, who takes no care to save himself, should
feel much concern for the salvation of others. This
being the case, it ,is evidept, that a very great and
radical change must take place in our views and
feelings, before we can be suitably affected with
the sins of our fellow creatures, if the conduct of
the persons mentioned in our text is the standard
of what is suitable. They are represented as sigh
ing, and even crying, on account of the abomina
tions, which were practised by their fellow citizens ;
expressions, which plainly intimate that they were
not only affected, but very deeply affected with a
consideration of the vices, which prevailed around
them. Though they lived in an evil day, a day of
peculiar calamity and distress, when the judgments
of God were falling heavily upon their nation ; yet
they not only found time to mourn for the prevail
ing sins of the age, but they appear to have felt
more poignant grief for those sins, than for the des
olating judgments which they occasioned. They
sighed and cried, not so much, because their rulers
were incorrigibly wicked and infatuated, their
country laid waste, their capital destroyed, and
many of their fellow citizens carried into captivity,
as because of the abominations which were com
mitted by the remnant that had escaped.
An imitation of their example in this respect, is
the first proof we shall mention of being rightly
affected with the sins of others; for we may be
affected, and even deeply affected, with the sins of
46

362 THE MARK
our fellow creatures ; as well as with our own,
without being rightly affected. We may mourn for
them merely on account of the punishments which
they bring upon ourselves, or upon the community
of which we are members. But if we fear sin more
than the punishment of sin ; if we mourn rather for
the iniquities, than for the calamities which we wit
ness ; if we are more grieved to see God dishonor
ed, his Son neglected, and immortal souls ruined,
than we are to see our commerce interrupted, our
fellow citizens divided, and our country invaded, —
it is one proof that we resemble the characters
mentioned in our text. In the sight of God, how
ever, no feelings or affections are genuine, but such
as produce corresponding practical effects. He
will not consider our grief for the prevalence of
any evil as sincere, unless it excites habitual and
earnest endeavors for its suppression. We there
fore observe,
2. That being suitably affected with the sins of
our fellow creatures, implies the diligent exertion,
by every means in our power, to reform them. It
is, perhaps, in this respect, that we are most liable
to fail. There are many, who will readily allow that
vice and infidelity prevail among us, in a most alar
ming manner ; that the Sabbath is most shamefully
dishonored ; that God's name is impiously profaned
in our streets ; that multitudes of our fellow crea
tures are evidently in the way to eternal ruin ; and
that, in consequence of our national sins, we have
every reason to expect national judgments still

OF DELIVERANCE. 363
heavier than those, which we have already experi
enced. That it should be so, they will also confess
is a very melancholy thing, and for a moment they
will, perhaps, appear to be deeply affected by it ;
but still they use no means and make no exertions
to counteract, or repress the evils, which they pro
fess to lament. But as it is not sufficient to confess
and lament our own sins, without renouncing them,
so neither is it sufficient to mourn for the sins of
others, without attempting their reformation. This
attempt must be made,
First, by our example. That men are imitative
beings ; that the force of example is almost incon
ceivably great, and that there is, perhaps, no man
so poor or insignificant, as not to have some friend
or dependant, who may be influenced by his exam
ple, are truths so obvious, that it is scarcely neces
sary to mention them. This/ being the case, every
person is most sacredly bound, in times of prevail
ing degeneracy, to act an open, firm, and decided
part in favor of virtue and religion ; and resolutely
endeavor, by his example to discountenance vice
and impiety in every shape. In an especial man
ner should he avoid the very appearance of those
evils, which are most prevalent around him, and
practise with double care and diligence those vir
tues, which are most generally neglected and
despised. In vain will he pretend to mourn over
the sins of the times, who by his example encoura
ges, or, at least, does not discountenance them.
In the second place, if we would prove the

364 THE MARK
justice of our claim to the character described in
our text, we must attempt to suppress vice and
impiety by our exertions. We must endeavor our
selves, and exert all our influence to induce others
to banish from among us intemperance, profanity,
violations of the Sabbath, neglect of religious insti
tutions, and other prevailing sins of the age and
country in which we live. Thanks to the kind
providence of him, by whom kings reign and prin
ces decree justice, we enjoy peculiar advantages
for attempting this arduous, but glorious work with
success. In our highly favored land, the interests
of virtue and religion are fenced around by whole
some laws ; and in consequence of the nature of
our government, the care of seeing that, these laws
are faithfully executed, is, in a greater or less de
gree, committed to almost every individual among
us. But it becomes us to remember, that, where
much is given, much will be required. It has been
justly remarked, that when God confers on us the
power to do good or repress evil, he lays us under
an obligation to exert that power. Agreeably, the
apostle informs us, that to him who knoweth to do
good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin. Hence it
follows, that we are accountable for all the good
which we might but have not done ; and for all the
evil which we might but have not prevented. By
conniving at the sins of others, therefore, we make
them our own. If the name of God be profaned,
if his holy day be dishonored, if a fellow creature
by intemperance render his family wretched, spread

OF DELIVERANCE. 365
a snare in the path of his children, destroy his
health, and finally plunge himself into eternal ruin,
when we by proper exertions might have prevented
it, a righteous God will not hold us guiltless, nor
will rivers of tears, shed in secret over these sins,
wash out the guilt thus contracted. If thou for
bear to deliver them that are drawn unto death,
and those that are ready to be slain ; if thou sayest,
behold we knew it not, doth not he that pondereth
the heart consider it ? and he that keepeth thy soul,
doth he not know it ? and shall he not render to
every man according to his works ? If then, we
would avoid his displeasure ; if we wish him to set
upon us a mark of deliverance, we must exert all
the power and influence, with which we are en
trusted, to repress the outbreakings of irreligion
and vice. Those who will, if permitted, trample
alike on divine and human laws, and thus shew
that they neither fear God nor regard man, must
be taught by their apprehensions, if they can be
taught by no other means, to hide their vicious
propensities in their own breasts ; or, at least, not
to suffer them to stalk abroad with unblushing front
in open day. And I am aware, that to attempt
this, is a most disagreeable and ungrateful task, a
task, which very few are willing to perform.
Many will mourn over the prevalence of sin in their
closets, who dare not, or at least will not exert
themselves to oppose it in public. When God asks,
Who will stand up for me against the evil doers ?
who will rise up for me against the workers of

366 THE MARK
iniquity ? too many are to be found, even among
his professed friends, who instead of immediately
answering to the call, and boldly appearing like the
children of Levi on the Lord's side, pusillanimously
shrink back from the honorable service, pretending
that others may more properly engage in it than
themselves. In fact, though we are willing to en
joy the consolations and rewards of religion, we are
all too much afraid of its difficulties and duties ;
too unwilling to deny ourselves and take up the
cross. We are sufficiently willing, that God should
take care of our honor, interest, happiness ; but
when any thing is to be done or suffered for him,
we are too prone to begin with one consent to
make excuse. We are exceedingly jealous of our
own rights and privileges, and ever ready to exe
cute those laws, which secure our persons, our
property and reputation. But we discover little
jealousy for the honor of the Lord of Hosts ; and
too often suffer those laws, which are made to se-
cure his name and his day from profanation, to be
violated with impunity. But however natural or
general such conduct may be, it is altogether inex
cusable ; nor can we be guilty of it without forfeiting
all claims to the character mentioned in our text.
In vain shall we pretend to love God ; in vain shall
we profess to be concerned for the happiness of
man ; in vain shall we express sorrow for the preva
lence of vice and irreligion, if we will not expose
ourselves to some inconveniences, submit to some
sacrifices, and make some vigorous exertions to

OF DELIVERANCE. 367
preserve God's name from profanation, his institu
tions from dishonor, and the souls of our fellow
creatures from everlasting perdition. God will set
no mark of deliverance upon us in the day of ven
geance, unless we prove the sincerity of our
attachment to his cause, of our hatred of sin, and
of our grief for its prevalence by appearing openly
and decidedly against it. On the contrary, he will,
nay he has already set on such pusillanimous friends
a mark of reprobation. Whosoever shall be
ashamed of me and of my words, in this evil and
adulterous generation, of him shall the Son of man
be ashamed, when he shall come in the glory of his
Father with the holy angels.
In the third place, to our exertions we must add
our prayers. Exertion without prayer, and prayer
without exertion, are alike presumptuous, and can
be considered as only tempting God — and if we
neglect either, we have no claim to be numbered
among the characters described in our text. My
hearers, permit me to request your particular at
tention to this remark. There is but too much
reason to fear, that a regard to order, or some
similar principle, induces many to exert themselves
for the suppression of vice, who prove by their to
tal neglect of prayer for divine influence, that they
are strangers to the first principles of the oracles
of God.
Lastly, those who are suitably affected with the
sins of their fellow creatures, will certainly be much
more deeply affected with their own. While they

368 THE MARK
smart under the rod of national calamities, they
will cordially acknowledge the justice of God, and
feel that their own sins have assisted in forming the
mighty mass of national guilt. While they contem
plate him, whom their sins have pierced, they will
mourn and be in bitterness, as one that mourneth
for an only son. While they feel constrained to
repress the vices of others with a decided and vig-
gorous hand, they will feel, that, if they are not
themselves guilty of the same vices, it is wholly
owing to sovereign, unmerited grace : and the cor
dial conviction of this truth, will temper their
firmness with meekness and tenderness, and lead
them to pity the offender, while they abhor the of
fence. If this temper be wanting, all other proofs
that we are suitably affected with the prevalence of
vice, will avail nothing. It is this, which distin
guishes the real mourner from the proud, censori
ous, self righteous hypocrite, who condemns others
that he may exalt himself, who censures the mote
in his brotHer's eye, but knows nothing of the beam
in his own ; whose language to God is, I thank
thee, that I am not like other men ; and to his fel
low creatures, stand by thyself, come not near me,
for I am holier than thou. Such are, of all persons,
most hateful to God, and the most unlike the char
acters mentioned in our text. In fact, it will ever
be found, that he, who is most affected by the sins
of others, will mourn most sincerely and feelingly
for his own ; and that he who is most solicitous for
his own salvation, will exhibit the greatest concern

OF DELIVERANCE. 369
for the salvation of the souls of his fellow creatures.
Thus have we endeavored to shew what is im
plied in being suitably affected with the vices, that
prevail among us. Should any one feel disposed to
question the truth of the observations, which have
been made, it would be easy to confirm them, did
time permit, by appealing to the history of Noah, of
Lot, of Moses, of David, of Hezekiah, of Ezra, of
Nehemiah, of the prophets, of the apostles, nay, of
our blessed Lord himself ; nor would it be difficult
to prove, that there is scarcely a good man men
tioned in the scriptures, who was not thus affected
with the sins of the age, and country in which he
lived. But it is necessary that we hasten to shew,
as was proposed,
II. That on such, as are thus affected, God will
set a mark of deliverance, when those around them
are destroyed by his desolating judgments. The
truth of this proposition may be inferred,
1. From the justice of God. It will be recollec
ted, that national judgments are always the
consequence of national sins. But in the guilt of
these sins the characters we are describing do not
share. On the contrary, they mourn for them,
hate them, and oppose them, by every means in
their power. If their endeavors to promote nation
al reformation are unsuccessful, the guilt does not
lie at their door. Justice, therefore, forbids that
they should share in the punishment, which this
guilt brings down. As they have separated them
selves from others by their conduct, it requires that
47

370 , THE MARK
a mark of separation and deliverance should be set
upon them by the hand of a righteous God. Hence
the plea of Abraham with regard to Sodom, a plea
of which God tacitly allowed the force. Far be
it from thee to destroy the righteous with the wick
ed ; and that the righteous should be as the wicked,
that be far from thee : shall not the Judge of all
the earth do right ? It is true, that the characters,
of whom we are speaking, have, like others, viola
ted the law of God, and are by nature children of
wrath, and exposed to its awful curse. But how
ever guilty they may be as individuals, in the sight
of a heart-searching God, they are blameless, con
sidered merely as members of a community, and it
is in this light only that they are here considered.
Justice itself, therefore, requires, that they should
be spared, and there is no doubt that God often
suspends the punishment merited by guilty nations,
lest the righteous should be involved in their des
truction. Witness the preservation of guilty Zoar
for the sake of Lot, and the declaration of the de
stroying angel, I cannot do any thing till thou be
come thither.
The truth of the proposition we are considering,
may be inferred,
2. From God's holiness. As a holy God he can
not but love holiness ; he cannot but love his own
image ; he cannot but love those who love him.
But the characters, of whom we are speaking,
evince by their conduct, that they do love God.
They bear his image. His name is written in their

OF DELIVERANCE. 371
foreheads. Like the righteous God they love
righteousness and hate and oppose iniquity. It
is their love- to God and their holy jealousy for
the honor of his great name, which causes them
to mourn when he is disobeyed and dishonored.
His cause, his interest, his honor, they consider as
their own. A holy God, therefore, will, nay, he
must, display his approbation of holiness by placing
upon them a mark of distinction. While he loves
holiness, while he loves himself, he cannot but love
them, and cause all things to work together for
their good.
The truth of this assertion we infer,
3. From his faithfulness. God has said, Them
that honor me I will honor. But none honor him
more highly than those, who appear openly and
resolutely on his side, in opposition to sin. His
truth, his faithfulness then requires, that he should
honor them by placing upon them some mark
of distinction. Besides, those who are affected
with the sins of mankind in the manner described
above, exhibit the most infallible proof, that they are
the genuine disciples of Christ, and the real chil
dren of God. Like their heavenly Father and their
divine Redeemer, they are grieved with the sins of
rebellious man. They have complied with the
command which says, Come ye out from among
them, and be ye separate ; and I will be a father
unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters.
But if they are children, then heirs ; heirs of God,
of all the exceeding great and precious promises,

372 THE MARK
which are given us in Christ Jesus ; promises, which
the eternal purpose and solemn oath of God bind
him to fulfil. He has provided for them chambers
of protection. His name is a strong tower, into
which they flee, and are safe ; and to this place of
refuge he invites them. Come, my people, enter
into thy chambers, and hide thyself for a little mo
ment, till the indignation be overpast.
Thus it appears, that the justice, the holiness,
and the faithfulness of God, unitedly bind him to
set a mark of deliverance on those, who are suita
bly affected with the sins of their fellow creatures.
But these are the perfections, which, as sinners,
we have the greatest reason to fear. If then they
secure our safety, how safe must we be.
Lastly — That God actually does set a mark of
deliverance on such characters, is evident from va
rious facts recorded in scripture. See, for instance,
Noah, that preacher of righteousness, saved in the
midst of a drowning world. See Lot, whose right
eous soul was grieved and vexed with the wickedness
of the Sodomites, snatched as a brand from the
burning storm, which overthrew the .cities of the
plain. See Elijah, who was jealous for the honor
of the Lord of Hosts, fed by ravens, when all his
countrymen were suffering the miseries of drought
and famine. See Jeremiah, Baruch, and Ebed-
melech, escaping unhurt from the perils of fire and
sword, when Jerusalem was taken by storm ; and
the disciples of our Lord, many years after, saved
by his warnings from the Roman sword, while their

OF DELIVERANCE. 373
countrymen were destroyed. And though the age
of miracles has passed away, yet had we an inspired
history of the world from the days of the apostles,
we should doubtless find reco-.ded many equally
striking proofs of God's care of his people ; for it
is still true, to adopt the language of St. Peter, that
the Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly, and to
reserve the unjust to the day of judgment to be
punished. Will it be objected to this statement,
that facts equally strong may be adduced on the
other side ; facts, which prove that God does not
always thus deliver his people ? We allow it. We
allow that the real friends of God often drink deep
ly of the cup of affliction, which is put into the
hands of sinful nations ? But why is it so ? It is
because they first partake of their sins. It is be
cause they do not bear a public testimony for God,
and oppose as they ought the progress of vice and
infidelity. They suffer themselves to be entangled
by that fear of man, which bringeth a snare, and to
be guided by the heaven-distrusting counsels and
temporizing policy of that earthly, sensual wisdom,
which is too often miscalled prudence. They con
duct in such a manner, as to leave it doubtful
whether they are the real children of God ; and,
therefore, he treats them in such a manner, as often
causes them and others to doubt whether he is their
Father. Were they always suitably affected with
the sins which prevail around them, they would
much less frequently share in the calamities which
those sins occasion. But it will perhaps be said,

374 The mark
that many of the most bold and faithful servants of
God and opposers of vice, have suffered even unto
blood striving against sin. We grant it, but still it
is true, that the mark of God was upon them. It
appeared in those divine consolations, which raised
them far above suffering, and the fear of death, and
enabled them to rejoice and glory in tribulation.
Did not Stephen exhibit this mark, when his mur
derers saw his face, as it had been the face of an
angel ? Did not Paul and Silas display it, when at
midnight their joy broke forth, in the hearing of
their fellow prisoners, in rapturous ascriptions, and
songs of praise ? Did not some of the martyrs dis
play it, wh,en they exclaimed in the flames, We feel
no more pain, than if reposing on a bed of roses ?
If we now seldom see this mark of God set upon
his children, it is only because the fires of persecu
tion are extinguished, and because such christians
as Stephen, and Paul, and the martyrs, are no
longer to be found in the church.
But however God may sometimes see fit to ex
pose such as truly mourn for the prevalence of sin,
to sufferings in this world, he will most certainly
set a mark of deliverance upon them in the world
to come. The Son of God, clothed in the linen
garments of his priestly office, has sprinkled them
with his blood, which, like the blood ofthe passover,
is a signal for the destroying angel to pass them by.
He has set upon them a mark, not with pen and
ink, but by the Spirit of the living God, by whom
they are sealed to the day of eternal redemption.

OF DELIVERANCE. 375
Thus they bear the mark of the Lamb, and have
their Father's name written in their foreheads,
while their great Intercessor bears their names en
graven in his book of life, and upon the palms of
his hands ; and neither life, nor death, nor angels,
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present,
nor things to come, shall erase them.
IMPROVEMENT.
My hearers, the subject we have been consider
ing, at all times interesting, is rendered peculiarly
so to us by the circumstances in which we are pla
ced. We live in a day, when the judgments of
God are abroad in the earth, and the desolating
flood, after laying waste many nations and king
doms in its progress, has at length reached our
shores, and where it will stop God only knows.
We have, however, but too much reason to expect
the worst. The same sins which have ruined oth
er nations, and which, wherever they exist, pro
voke the vengeance of offended heaven, evident
ly prevail among us in an alarming degree, and
give us just occasion to fear, that, since we resem
ble the old world in its vices, we shall share in its
plagues. And even if God in mercy should avert
merited ruin, it is certain that we must all appear
at the judgment seat of Christ, to receive the
things done in the body. It is, therefore, infinitely
important for us, both in a temporal and in a reli
gious view, to ascertain whether we are in the
number of those, upon whom God has set a mark

376 the mark
of deliverance, that his destroying angel may not
touch them. From our subject we may learn this.
If we are in the number of those who sigh and
cry for all the abominations that are committed
among us, God has certainly set upon us a mark
of deliverance and salvation ; but if not, if we
contemplate them with indifference, or while we
profess to lament, make no exertions to repress
them ; we have reason to expect nothing but a
mark of reprobation. Permit me then, my hearers,
to ask, how are you affected with the sins which
prevail among us ? That there are many such sins,
sins sufficient to excite and. justify our most pun
gent grief, you need not be told. You cannot but
be aware, that throughout our country, vice and
impiety are awfully prevalent ; that God's name is
most daringly profaned ; that his day is by multi
tudes dishonored and neglected ; that his friends
and institutions are ridiculed and despised ; that
the whirlpool of intemperance is engulfing its
thousands and tens of thousands, and that the soul
is almost universally neglected and undone. The
cry of our sins, like that of Sodom and Nineveh,
has long since ascended up before God. My
hearers, how are you affected with these things ?
Are you more disposed to weep for our national
sins, than for the miseries which we feel, and the
dangers which we fear ? Are you endeavoring, by
your example, your exertions, and your prayers, to
repress the progress of vice and impiety within
your sphere of action ; and do you appear openly

OF DELIVERANCE. 377
on the Lord's side, as the bold, unwavering, de
termined friends of religion and morality ? These
are questions of infinite importance, but they are
questions which conscience alone can answer. To
every man's conscience, then, we appeal, and ask,
should God, preparatory to our destruction, as a
people, send a messenger into this house, to set a
mark on all who are suitably affected with the pre
vailing sins of the age, on whose foreheads would
the delivering mark appear ? Would it, I address
the question to every hearer, would it appear on
thine ? We are happy to have it in our power to
remark, that a partial answer to these questions is
afforded by the occasion which has called us to
gether. The existence of the society which I now
address, affords, at least, presumptive evidence,
that there are some present, who do not contem
plate with indifference, the progress of vice and
impiety ; and its members exhibit, at least, one of
the characteristic features of the persons described
in our text. We would hope, that the other features
necessary to complete the character, are not want
ing ; and that, while they are unitedly endeavoring
to check the progress of vice by their exertions, they
are individually aiming to advance the same object
by their example and their prayers. My brethren,
if this hope be well founded, our subject affords
you encouragement, ample as your most enlarged
desires. It assures you, that he, who humbles him
self to behold what is done in heaven, notices and
approves the sorrow, with which you contemplate
48

378 THE MARK
sin, either in yourselves or others, and the exer
tions which you are making to repress its pro
gress. The mark of the eternal God is upon you.
The destroying angel is forbidden to touch you ;'
whatever may befal our country or the world, you
are safe as omnipotence can render you. The new
heaven and the new eartH, wherein dwelleth right
eousness, is your destined habitation, where those
sins, which you now hate and oppose, shall no lon
ger molest you, and where you shall reap the glo
rious rewards, which the Captain of our salvation
has prepared for them that overcome. Nor is this
all. The cause in which you are engaged is as
honorable, and its success as certain, as the rewards
of victory are glorious. It is the cause of truth, of
religion, of God ; the cause in which all holy beings
are engaged; the cause in which the Son of God
laid down his life. It will be finally victorious.
Will it be descending too low, if I add, it is also the
cause of our common country. It is on the exertions
of the friends of morality and religion alone, that its
deliverance from present calamities, and its future
welfare depend. It is in the field of conflict be
tween virtue and vice, between religion and impiety,
that our enemies are to be repelled ; that peace is
to be conquered for us. One victory gained here,
will do more for us than many on the ocean or
the land ; and the most encouraging circumstance
attending^ our present situation, is, that a faithful
few are to be found in different parts of our land,

OF DELIVERANCE. 379
who are willing to fight the battles of the Lord,
and come up to his help against the mighty.
Go on, then my brethren, and prosper ; secure
of the good wishes and co-operation of all the real
friends of God, and of man, and of our country ;
nay more, secure of the blessing and assistance of
him, who has promised, that, when the enemy
comes in as a flood, his Spirit shall lift up a stand
ard against him. We will only add the address of
the prophet to Asa and his people, while engaged
in the work of national reformation with its happy
effect. The Lord is with you, while ye be with
him. Be strong, therefore, and let not your hands
be weak, for your work shall be rewarded. When
Asa heard these words, he took courage, and put
away all abominations out of the land. May God
grant that you feel encouraged in a similar manner
to repress, with a prudent and vigorous hand, every
abomination which shall attempt to raise its baleful
head among you.
And are there any present, who cannot cordially
unite in this prayer ; any, who contemplate the
formation and the exertions of this society with an
unfriendly eye ; any, who, instead of feeling dispos
ed to sigh and cry on account of the prevalence
of vice and irreligion, are disposed to consider it
as a proof of weakness or superstition to be thus
affected ? If any such there are, permit me to ask,
ought not the creatures, the subjects, the children
of God to mourn, when their Creator, their Sover
eign, their Father, is dishonored ? Ought not the

380 THE MARK OF DELIVERANCE.
friends of our Redeemer to feel grieved, when he is
neglected and crucified afresh ? Ought not all,
who love their country, to lament, when they see
the same sins prevailing among us, which have al
ready drawn down the vengeace of heaven on so
many once flourishing kingdoms (*****

SERMON XX.
THE CHRISTIAN MANNER OF EXPRESSING
GRATITUDE.
II. TIMOTHY I. 16, 17, 18.
THE LORD GIVE MERCY UNTO THE HOUSE OF ONESIPHORUS ; FOR HE OFT
REFRESHED ME, AND WAS NOT ASHAMED OF MY CHAIN. BUT WHEN HE
WAS IN ROME, HE SOUGHT ME OUT VERY DILIGENTLY, AND FOUND ME.
THE LORD GRANT UNTO HIM, THAT HE MAY FIND MERCY OF THE LORD
IN THAT DAY.
The enemies of Christianity, while stating its
supposed defects, have asserted, that it recognizes
neither patriotism nor friendship as virtues ; that it
discountenances, or at least does not encourage,
the exercise of gratitude to human benefactors ;
and that its spirit is unfriendly to many of the finer
feelings and sensibilities of our nature. But these
assertions prove only that those who make them
are unacquainted with the religion, which they
blindly assail. Nothing more is necessary to show
that they are groundless, than a reference to the
character of St. Paul. This distinguished apostle
of Jesus Christ was, in a degree which has seldom,
if ever, been equalled, imbued with* the spirit, and
controlled by the influence, of that religion, which
he at once inculcated and exemplified. Yet we
find in his writings the most touching expressions,
and in his life the most striking exhibitions, of love
to his countrymen, friendship, gratitude, and indeed

382 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
of every sentiment and feeling, which gives either
nobleness or loveliness to human character. We
readily admit, however, or rather we assert it as
an important truth, that his religion, though it ex
tinguished none of these feelings, modified them
all. It infused into them its own spirit, regulated
their exercises and expressions by its own views,
and thus stamped upon them a new and distinctive
character. It baptized them, if I may be allowed
the expression, with the Holy Ghost, in the name
of Jesus Christ. Hence, the apostle expressed
neither his patriotism, nor his friendship, nor his
gratitude, precisely as he would have done, before
his conversion to Christianity.
These remarks, so far at least as they relate to
gratitude, are illustrated and verified by the passage
before us, in which he expresses his sense of obli
gation to a human benefactor. This benefactor
was Onesiphorus, who appears to have been an
Ephesianof wealth and distinction, and who had
in various ways, and on different occasions, mani
fested a generous concern for the apostle's welfare.
Especially had he manifested such a concern, when
St. Paul, oppressed by powerful enemies, forsaken
by those who ought to have assisted him, and strug
gling without « success to regain his liberty, lay
bound in fetters at Rome. While he was in this
destitute and friendless condition, borne down by
a power, which it seemed impossible for him to
resist, Onesiphorus generously espoused his cause,
sought him out very diligently and found him, sup-

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 383
plied his wants from his own stores, and was not
ashamed to be known as the friend and patron, of
a poor despised prisoner in chains. This unex
pected kindness from a stranger, a foreigner, on
whom he had no natural claims, — kindness, too,
displayed at a time, when cool friends prudently
kept at a distance, and many of his own country
men were among his bitterest enemies, made a
deep impression upon the grateful heart of St.
Paul. The gratitude, which he felt, it was natural
that he should express ; nor was there any thing
in his religion, which forbade him to express it.
But though his religion forbade neither the exer
cise nor the expression of gratitude, it taught him to
express it in such a manner, as became a christian,
an apostle, a servant of that Master, whose kingdom
is not of this world. He did not therefore idolize
his benefactor ; he did not load him with flattering
applauses : but from the fulness of his heart he
poured out a prayer for him to that God, who alone
could reward him, as the apostle wished him to be
rewarded. In this prayer he asked for him and
his family the same favor, which, as we learn from
his life and writings, he supremely desired and
sought for himself. This was an interest in God's
pardoning mercy. The Lord, he cries, give mercy
unto his house. The Lord grant unto him, that
he may find mercy of the Lord in that day.
It is more than possible, that, to some persons
this mode of expressing gratitude will appear frigid,
unmeaning, and unsatisfactory. They will regard

384 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
it as a very cheap and easy method of requiting a
benefactor ; and, were the case their own, they
would probably prefer a small pecuniary recom
pense, or an honorary reward, to all the prayers
which even an apostle could offer on their behalf.
It. is certain, however, that such persons estimate
the value of objects very erroneously, and that
their religious views and feelings differ very widely
from those which were entertained by St. Paul.
But so far as any man's religious views differ from
those, which he entertained, they must differ from
truth ; for the apostle, it will be recollected, was
guided by inspiration; his religious views were
imparted to him by the unerring Spirit of God ;
they must, therefore, have been in perfect accord
ance with truth. It is surely then most important,
that we should ascertain what they were, in order
that we may make them our own. What they
were respecting some most interesting subjects, we
may learn from the passage before us. From this
passage we nlay also learn, in what manner it be
comes the disciples and ministers of Christ to
express their gratitude to human benefactors. And
no one, who shall adopt the religious views, by
which St. Paul was influenced, can fail to perceive
that the method, which he employed for this
purpose, was most worthy of himself, and most
wisely adapted to promote the best interests of the
friend, to whom he felt himself indebted. What
these views were let us now endeavor to ascertain.
In the petition, which was offered by the apostle

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 385
for his benefactor, mention is made of a day to
which that petition has reference. The Lord grant
unto him, that he may find mercy of the Lord in
that day. The mode of expression here employed
is, in some respects, peculiar, and worthy of re
mark. It is a mode of expression, which men
never adopt, except when they speak of some sub
ject, of which their hearts are full. While it seems
intended to designate a particular day, it furnishes
no mark or description, by which the day referred
to can be ascertained. The same expression is,
however, frequently used in other parts of the in
spired volume, and from the connection in which
it is invariably found we may infer with certainty
what day is intended by it. It is ' the great day, for
which all other days were made,' the last day of
time and the first day of eternity, the day of general
judgment and retribution, in which the mighty Ma
ker, and Sovereign, and Judge of the universe, will
summon all intelligent creation before his tribunal,
and subject them to a trial, on the result of which,
their eternal destiny will depend. This day is else
where styled, the day of the Lord, the great day of
his wrath, and the great day of God Almighty. It
is the day of the Lord, says an apostle, in which the
heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and pass
away with a great noise, and the elements shall
melt with fervent heat, and the earth with all the
works that are therein shall be burnt up. When
that day shall arrive, the Lord himself will descend
from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the
49

386 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
archangel, and with the trump of God, and every
eye shall see him coming in the clouds with power
and great glory; and all that are in their graves
shall hear his voice, and come forth ; they that have
done good, to the resurrection of life, and they
that have done evil, to the resurrection of damna
tion. Then shall be realized what St. John saw in
vision. I saw, he says, a great white throne, and
him who sat upon it, before whose face the heav
ens and the earth fled away, and there was found
no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and
great, stand before God, and the books were open
ed, and the dead were judged out of those things
that were written in the books, according to their
works. Such, my hearers, is the day here intend
ed, and such are some of its attending circumstan
ces and events. To the mind of St. Paul, who
possessed that faith, which is the evidence of
things not seen, this day, writh all its infinitely glo
rious and tremendous realities, was, in effect, ev
er present and visible. His mental eye, aided by
the light, and strengthened by the energies of in
spiration, even then saw its dawn in the distant
horizon. To that day his thoughts and affections
were chained. With reference to that day he was
constantly acting. To secure mercy for himself
and for his fellow sinners in that day, was the
great object for which he lived, and labored, and
suffered, and for the sake of which he counted
not even his life dear. No wonder, then, that,
when he had occasion to mention such a day as

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 387
this, a day, which thus occupied and engrossed his
whole soul, he should style it simply, that day, and
take it for granted that every hearer would perceive
at once, what day he intended. No wonder, that
the transcendent brightness of such a day, should,
in his view, eclipse the light of other days, and that
he should speak of it as if it were the only day
which deserved the name. And no wonder, that,
with such a day in his eye, he did not pray that his
benefactor might be recompensed by the enjoy
ment of wealth, and honor, and prosperity, in the
present world. To his mind, engrossed as it was
by far nobler objects, all these things, and indeed
all which this world can afford, must have appear
ed worthless and empty indeed. And how could
he ask for his friend a portion, with which he
would not have satisfied himself ; how could he
ask for him a portion in this world only, when his
inspired eye saw the flames, in which it is destined
to be consumed, just ready to kindle around it, and
wrap it in the blaze of a general conflagration !
Might it not rather be expected, that he would ask
for him a favor connected with the great day,
which he saw approaching ; a favor, the bestowal
of which would secure his safety amidst all its per
ils, and his happiness forever ? Such a favor he
did ask. And that he should ask it, was a natural
consequence of the religious views, which he enter
tained. He knew that his friend was an ac
countable creature, in a state of probation for eter
nity, that he, in common with the rest of mankind,

388 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
must appear at the bar of God in the judgment
day ; and that the sentence, which he should then
receive, would either raise him to the enjoyment
of happiness inconceivable, or plunge him into
wretchedness inexpressible. Knowing these things,
how could he do otherwise than breathe out a fer
vent prayer, that his benefactor might be prepared
to receive a favorable sentence, and find mercy
of the Lord, his judge, at that day.
But what is the precise import of the petition,
that he might then find mercy, and what did it im
ply ? An answer to these questions will throw
much additional light on the views, which were
entertained by the apostle, when he uttered the
prayer before us. Mercy, as exercised by a judge,
or a sovereign, is the opposite of justice. It is
shewn only, when the guilty are spared, or when
they are treated more favorably than they deserv
ed. Its brightest display is made, when a crimi
nal, justly condemned to die, is pardoned. God,
the universal 'Sovereign and Judge, shews mercy,
when he pardons those, who were justly doomed by
his righteous law to the second death ; that death,
from which there is no resurrection. To pray that
any one may find mercy of him at the judgment
day, is to pray that he may then be pardoned, or
saved from deserved punishment, and accepted
and treated as if he were righteous. St. Paul,
when he prayed that Onesiphorus might find mer
cy of his Judge at that day, must then have believ
ed, that he would at that day need mercy or par-

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 389
don. And if so, he must have believed, that, in
the sight of God, he was guilty ; for by the guilty
alone can pardoning mercy be needed. The in
nocent need nothing but justice. They may stand
boldly and safely on the ground of their own mer
its. But the apostle well knew, that, on this
ground, not a single individual of the human race
can stand before God in judgment. He knew, for
he often declared, that all, without a single excep
tion, have sinned, and come short of the glory of
God ; and that in his sight no man living can be
justified by any performances or merits of his own.
He knew, that, however blameless or excellent any
man's character may appear in the view of men,
he has sinned against the statute book of heaven,
against the Supreme Legislator's great law of love,
that law, which binds him to love the Lord his
God with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and
strength, and his neighbor as himself. He knew,
that, when tried by this law before an omniscient,
heart-searching Judge, he must inevitably be found
guilty, and receive a sentence of condemnation,
and that mercy alone could then save him. In
deed these are among the fundamental truths of
that gospel, which the apostle made it the great
business of his life to proclaim. To these truths
every fact and doctrine of that gospel bears testi
mony. Why was a Saviour provided for all men,
if all men are not sinners ? Why did that Saviour
command his gospel to be preached to all men, if all
men do not need salvation ? Why is mercy offered

390 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
to all men, why are all men exhorted to seek it,
if all do not need mercy ? And these truths, which
had been revealed to him and engraven upon his
heart by the Spirit of God, the apostle could
neither disbelieve nor forget ; nor could he suffer
himself to be so far blinded by admiration, or
friendship, or gratitude, as to except even his ben
efactor from their universal application. No ; kind,
and generous, and noble, as was the disposition,
which that benefactor had manifested, and dispo
sed as the apostle must have been to view his
character in the most favorable light, he knew it
could not meet the demands of God's perfect law.
He could not conceal from himself the unpleasant
truth, that his friend was, like other men, a sinner,
and that as such he would need mercy of the Lord
at that day. And had Onesiphorus distinguished
himself as a benefactor, not to himself only, but
to his country ; had he sacrificed much, and haz
arded every thing to secure her liberty, the apos
tle would still have entertained the same views re
specting his character and situation in the sight
of God. He entertained, and often expressed, the
same views respecting himself. He knew, that,
notwithstanding the blamelessness of his external
conduct, his zeal and fidelity in preaching the gos
pel, and all his unexampled sacrifices, labors, and
sufferings in the service of Christ, he should still
need mercy at that day ; that justice would con
demn, and that mercy alone could save him. And
were he now alive, were he a native of our coun-

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 391
try, and were he standing in the midst of us with
all the feelings and partialities of his countrymen
glowing in his bosom, he would believe, and would
not hesitate to declare, that our own Washington,
beloved, admired, and revered as he justly was,
and is, will need the mercy of his judge at that day.
Are there any present, whose feelings revolt at
this assertion ? Let them then select the most illus
trious individual of our race ; let that individual
be, if they please, Washington himself; let them
suppose him to approach, with a fearless air, the
judgment seat of the Eternal, and say to him who
sits upon it, — I demand to be exempted from every
expression of thy displeasure, and to have ever
lasting life conferred on me as my due. I have
earned it, I deserve it, justice awards it to me ;
give me but justice, and I ask no more. Reserve
thy mercy for such as need it. Would you not
strongly reprobate language like this ? Then must
you acknowledge, that no man can claim any
thing on the ground of justice ; that all, without
exception, will need mercy at that day.
A distinguished modern philosopher, Adam
Smith, well known by his celebrated treatise on
the Wealth of Nations, has some remarks relative
"to this subject, which are so just and apposite, that
you will readily excuse me for quoting them.
" Man," says this writer, " when about to appear
before a being of infinite perfection, can feel but
little confidence in his own merit, or in the imper
fect propriety of his own conduct. To such a

392 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
being, he can scarce imagine, that his littleness and
weakness should ever seem to be the proper object
either of esteem or regard. But he can easily
conceive how the numberless violations of duty,
of which he has been guilty, should render him
the object of aversion and punishment ; nor can
he see any reason why the divine indignation
should not be let loose without any restraint, upon
so vile an insect as he is sensible that he himself
must appear to be. If he would still hope for
happiness he is conscious that he cannot demand
it from the justice, but that he must entreat it from
the mercy of God. Repentance, sorrow, humilia
tion, contrition at the thought of his past conduct,
are, upon this account, the sentiments which be
come him, and seem to be the only means, which
he has left, of appeasing that wrath which he has
justly provoked. He even distrusts the efficacy of
all these, and naturally fears, lest the wisdom of
God should not, like the weakness of man, be pre
vailed upon»to spare the crime, by the most im
portunate lamentations of the criminal. Some
other intercession, some other sacrifice, some oth
er atonement, he imagines, must be made for him,
beyond what he himself is capable of making, be
fore the purity of the divine justice can be recon-*"
ciled to his manifold offences." Such, my hear
ers, is the language of a writer, whom no one,
that is acquainted with his character, can suspect
of superstition, or weakness, or of entertaining too
favorable views of Christianity.

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 393
But to return — It may, perhaps, be said, if the
apostle's views were such as have now been de
scribed, if he believed that justice must pronounce
a sentence of condemnation on all without excep
tion, on what could he found a hope, that either
himself, or his benefactor, or any other man, will
find mercy of the Lord at that day ? Indeed, how
could he, while he entertained such views, ask
mercy either for himself or for others, without be
ing guilty of irreverent presumption ? How could
he, a sinful worm of the dust, dare request the in
flexibly just and holy Sovereign of the universe, to
pronounce from his judgment seat, a sentence more
favorable than impartial justice required, or than
it would seem to allow ? And when he presented
such a request, did he not appear to ask, in effect,
that the Judge of all the earth would cease to do
right ; that he would deviate from the path of
equity, sacrifice his justice, and sully his yet un
spotted character, for the sake of sparing guilty
creatures, whom law and justice condemned ?
These questions are perfectly reasonable and prop-
per, and it would be impossible to answer them in
such a manner as to justify the apostle, were not a
satisfactory answer furnished by the gospel of Jesus
Christ. That gospel reveals to us a glorious plan,
devised by infinite wisdom, in which the apparently
conflicting claims of justice and mercy are perfect
ly reconciled. It informs us that God was in Christ,
reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing
their trespasses unto them ; that God so loved the
50

394 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
world, as to give his only begotten Son, that who
soever believeth in him should not perish, but have
everlasting life. It informs us, that in consequence
of the atonement, which this Son of his love has
made, he can be just, and yet justify, or show mercy
to him, that believeth in Jesus. And it assures us,
that to every one, who truly believes in him, abun
dant mercy shall be shown. On this ground alone
the apostle rested all his own hopes of finding
mercy at that day. On this ground alone did he
found a hope, that his benefactor might then find
mercy. On this ground alone, did he dare ask
that mercy might be granted him. And his peti
tion, that he might find mercy, involves a request,
that he might be induced to become, if he were not
already such, a sincere disciple of Jesus Christ, and
be found among his faithful followers at that day ;
for well did the apostle know, that, unless he were
so, he must inevitably perish without mercy. He
knew, that, as all the light and warmth, which we
receive from the sun, come to us through the me
dium of its beams, so all the mercy, which God
will ever dispense to men, must come to them
through the medium of his Son Jesus Christ, who
is the brightness, the effulgence, or shining forth
of his glory. Take away the beams of the sun,
and you cut us off from all the benefits which we
derive from that luminary. Take away Jesus
Christ the Saviour, and you cut us off from all par
ticipation of God's mercy, and from all the benefits
which that mercy bestows upon a guilty world.

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 395
And the man, who shuts out Jesus Christ from his
heart, shuts out the sunshine of God's mercy from
himself, and, to use the language of an apostle, has
neither part nor lot in the matter.
This leads us to remark, farther, that though the
apostle • believed all men will need mercy of the
Lord at that day, he did not believe that all will
then find mercy. This is evidently and strongly
implied in the petition, which we are considering.
Would he have thought it necessary to pray that
Onesiphorus might find mercy, had he believed
that all will find mercy ? Would he have asked
for his friend, his benefactor, a favor, which, he
believed, will be. conferred indiscriminately upon
all ? This would have been worse than idle. It
would have been unworthy of himself, and a mock
ery of his friend. It would have been like praying
that he might have a portion of the air, and the
light, which are common to all. When he prayed
that his benefactor might find mercy, he intimated
that it was, at least, possible, that he might fail of
finding it. And when he prayed that the Lord
would grant unto him that he might find mercy, he
evidently prayed for a favor, which he did not
suppose would be granted to all. Indeed, he knew,
for he asserts, that all do not believe. And he
knew that those, who do not believe, shall not see
life, but that the wrath of God abideth on them.
My hearers, I have given you a brief sketch of
the apostle's religious views, so far as they are ex
pressed or implied in the passage under considera-

396 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
tion. And now let me ask, could he, with such
views, have expressed his gratitude in a manner
more worthy of himself, or more indicative of a
wise and affectionate concern for the welfare of
his benefactor, than by offering for him this peti
tion ? Would not the favor, which it requests, have
been cheaply purchased by Onesiphorus at the ex
pense of all his earthly possessions ? And can any
man, whose religious views resemble those of St.
Paul, express affection for his children, or concern
for his friends, or gratitude to his benefactors,
more clearly and consistently, than by beseeching
God to grant unto them that they might find mer
cy of the Lord in the great day ?
It would be improper to conclude this discourse
without reminding you, that, if Onesiphorus, not
withstanding all his generous disposition and bene-
ficient actions, will need mercy of the Lord at that
day, then each of you my hearers will certainly
need it. Yes, mortal, accountable, sinful creature,
That awful day will surely come,
The appointed hour makes haste,
When thou must stand before thy Judge,
And pass the solemn test.
And O, how greatly wilt thou then need mercy,
when, stripped of all thy possessions, of all thy
friends, thou shalt stand a naked, trembling, help
less creature, before the tribunal of thy God ! How
wilt thou need mercy at that great and terrible day,
in which, as inspiration declares, the sun shall be
turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, and
the stars shall fall from heaven ; and the heaven

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 397
shall depart as a scroll, and every mountain be
moved out of its place ; and the kings of the earth,
and the great men, and the rich men, and the
chief captains, and the mighty men, and the bond
and the free, shall attempt to hide themselves in
the dens and the rocks of the mountains, and shall
say unto the mountains and to the rocks, fall on us,
and hide us from the face of him that sitteth upon
the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb : for
the great day of his wrath is come, and who shall
be able to stand ? He, he alone, who finds mer
cy. And he alone will find mercy then, who seeks
it now, and who seeks it in the only way, in which
it can ever be found, — by believing in the Lord Je
sus Christ. If you are not then found to have be
lieved in him, you will find no mercy ; and, unless
you find mercy, it were better far better for you,
that you had never been born. Do you ask, for
what shall we need mercy ? I answer, if for noth
ing else, yet for the neglect with which you have
treated the Saviour, to whom you are so deeply in
debted. In former ages, God found reason to say
to his creatures, A son honoreth his father, and a
servant his master : if then I be a Father, where is
mine honor ? and if I be a Master, where is my
fear ? saith the Lord of hosts. With at least equal
force and propriety may our Saviour now say, Men
are grateful to their benefactors and deliverers ;
but if I am such, where are the proofs of that grat
itude which they owe to me ? I see triumphal
arches raised, and costly preparations made, and

398 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER
loud acclamations poured forth, to welcome a hu
man benefactor.* But where are the grateful re
turns which I had reason to expect from those, for
whom I descended from heaven, and suffered and
died ? My hearers, contrast your obligations to the
Saviour with those which you owe the man who
has recently visited us ; compare the proofs of
gratitude, which the latter has received, with those
which have been shewn to Jesus Christ, and then
say, whether our Saviour has not reason to com
plain ; whether we have not reason to feel guilty
and ashamed. Is it not, O is it not but too evi
dent that our God and Redeemer hold, at most,
but the second place in our estimation, and that we
honor the creature more than the Creator ? If you
think, that we have not rewarded our earthly ben
efactor more than he deserves, — and that we have,
I am not disposed to assert, — you must surely al
low, that we reward our heavenly Benefactor infi
nitely less than he deserves. There is not, proba
bly, a habitation or a heart in our country, which
would not be thrown open to welcome the former.
But, O, how many hearts are shut against the lat
ter, even when he comes and knocks for admis
sion. Thousands, and tens of thousands flock to
see the former ; but how few, comparatively, wish
for an acquaintance with the latter. To sit at
table with the former, is regarded as an honor and
a privilege, for which men are willing to pay dear ;
* La Fayette — This Sermon was preached on the occasion of
his visit to Portland.

OF EXPRESSING GRATITUDE. 399
while the table of Jesus Christ, though spread with
a banquet of God's own providing, is comparatively
forsaken. My hearers, can these things be otherwise than
highly displeasing to God ? Can he see the Son of
his love treated with such neglect and ingratitude
by creatures, whom he died to save, and not be
greatly offended ? And will not such conduct ap
pear, even to us, to need pardoning mercy, when
he, whom we have thus requited, shall be seen
coming in the clouds of heaven, with power and
great glory ? Then our triumphal arches, our ex
pensive preparations, and all our expressions of
gratitude to a human benefactor, will rise up in
judgment against us, to condemn us, if we shall be
found to have neglected the infinitely great, and
generous, and condescending Benefactor of our
race. My hearers, in this respect we are all in a
greater or less degree guilty, and have all cause
for repentance. Who can say, with truth, in this
respect I have made my heart clean ? Who can
impartially review the manner, in which he has
requited his Saviour, and then dare to say that he
shall not need mercy ?
My hearers, let me entreat you to seek that mer
cy now. Let me charge you, by all that is glori
ous, and terrible, and awful in the solemnities of
that day, to seek that mercy now ; for he, who
neglects to seek it now, will not find it then. To
him, who rejects it now, it will not be offered
then ; for him, who refuses to ask it now, even an

400 THE CHRISTIAN MANNER, &c.
apostle might then plead in vain. Let us then
send many humble and urgent invitations to our
Saviour, to bless us with a gracious visit. And
should he deign to favor us with his presence, let
every heart be ready to receive him ; let every voice
be prepared to greet him ; and let old age, and
manhood, and youth emulate each other in shout
ing him welcome^ and bringing to him the tribute,
which is due to our greatest and best Benefactor.

SERMOW XXI.
THE TIMELY PRESENCE AND SALUTATION OF
JESUS.
X.UKE XXIV. 36.
AND AS THEY THUS SPAKE, JESUS HIMSELF STOOD IN THE MIDST OF
THEM, AND SAITH UNTO THEM, PEACE BE UNTO YOU.
When we are studying the character of a per
son, of whom we know little, but whom we have
particular reasons for wishing to know thoroughly,
every part of his past and present conduct be
comes, in our view, highly interesting. We wish
to be acquainted with his whole history, even with
the incidents of his childhood and early youth,
that, from what he was then, we may infer what
he, probably, is now. And yet, to infer what any
one is, from what he has been in former years, may
often lead to very erroneous conclusions, respect
ing his character ; for man is a changeable being,
and there are, comparatively, few persons, whose
lives are all of a piece. The promising child, the
amiable youth, does not always prove a valuable
man ; and, on the other hand, sometimes, though
much less frequently, the man renounces the vices
and follies of youth, and becomes, unexpectedly,
an estimable character. To our Saviour, howev
er, these remarks are in no degree applicable. It
is always safe to infer what he is, from what he
51

402 THE TIMELY PRESENCE
once was. If we can ascertain what he was at
any former period, we shall ascertain what he is
now ; for inspiration assures us, that he is, yester
day, to-day, and forever, the same. And, blessed
be God, we may easily ascertain what he was dur
ing his residence in our world ; for the inspired
records of his life are before us, and they are suf
ficiently particular to give us a clear view of his
sentiments, feelings and character. This fact ren
ders these records particularly interesting to every
one, who counts all things but loss, for the excel
lency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus, his Lord ;
who wishes to be thoroughly acquainted with the
Saviour, to whose care he commits his soul, and
on whom he founds all his hopes. Of this Sa
viour, and of the manner in which he treats his
disciples, we may learn something from the pas
sage before us. It describes the first manifesta
tion, which he made of himself to his church, af
ter his resurrection. He had, indeed, previously
appeared to individuals among them ; but not un
til this occasion was he seen by them all. Now he
stood at once, unexpectedly, in the midst of them,
and said, Peace be unto you.
In meditating on this passage, let us consider,
I. The character of the visit, which Christ here
made to his church ; and,
II. The time, when the visit was made.
With reference to the character of the visit, we
may remark, that the visits, which Christ makes to
his churches, are of two kinds He sometimes

AND SALUTATION OF JESUS. 403
comes in anger, to chastise them. In this manner
he threatened to visit some of the Asiatic churches.
To the church at Ephesus he says, I will come un
to thee quickly, and remove thy candlestick out of
its place, unless thou repent. And to the church
of Sardis, If thou shalt not watch, I will come on
thee as a thief, that is, suddenly, and unexpectedly ;
and thou shalt not know at what hour I will come
upon thee. At other times, he visits his churches
in a gracious manner, to comfort, animate, and
bless them. The visit mentioned in our text was
of this kind. He came, not in anger, but in love ;
came in his own beloved and appropriate charac
ters of Saviour, Friend and Brother. This is
evident, in the first place, from the language in
which he addressed them ; Peace be with you.
This was the customary form of friendly salutation
among the Jews, and the use of it, by a visiter, was
equivalent to an assurance, that he came as a friend.
Indeed it probably conveyed far more meaning to
their ears, than it does to ours ; for the word peace
as used by the Jews, was a term of very extensive
signification. It was considered as including all
blessings of every kind. Hence, when they said
to any one, Peace be with you, — it was the same
as saying, may every blessing be yours ; or, may
happiness attend you. And though the salutation
was, doubtless, used by many, as our customary
expressions of friendship and civility too often are,
in an insincere and unmeaning manner, yet we may
be sure, that in such a manner it would never be

404 THE TI3IELY PRESENCE
used by our Saviour. And while this language, as
used by him, meant all which it seemed to mean ;
it was, in his lips, something more than the expres
sion of a wish, something more than even a prayer,
that peace might be with them. He had just re
turned from the invisible world ; that world, which
men naturally regard with dread. In these circum
stances, by saying, Peace be with you, he did in
effect assure them, that there was peace between
them and the invisible world ; between them and
the God, who governs that world. Nor was this
all. He had it in his own power to give the peace
which he wished them to enjoy ; for all power, in
heaven and on earth, was now committed to him.
In these circumstances the salutation, Peace be
with you, was equivalent to an authoritative decla
ration, that Peace should be with them. He had
said to them, just before his crucifixion, Peace I
leave with you ; my peace I give unto you ; and
this dying bequest he now renewed and confirmed.
We may remark, further, that the three blessings,
which the apostles usually asked for the churches,
were grace, mercy, and peace. But the last of
these blessings includes, or implies the two former ;
for to sinful creatures, such as we are, there can
be no peace, without grace to sanctify them, and
mercy to pardon them. This our Saviour well
knew. Hence, when he said, Peace be unto you,
he did in effect assure them of an interest in his
grace and mercy. If farther proof, that this was a
gracious visit, were wanting, we might find it in

AND SALUTATION OF JESUS. 405
the context. We there learn, that, at this visit, he
enlightened the understandings of the disciples,
increased their religious knowledge, banished their
doubts, fears and anxieties, strengthened their faith,
revived their fainting hopes, and filled them with
wonder and joy. These surely were works of grace,
and these, we may add, are precisely the works
which he still performs when he makes any of his
churches a gracious visit.
Let us now consider,
II. The time, when this gracious visit was made.
1. We may remark, that it was made at a time,
when the disciples were exceedingly unworthy of
such a favor, and when they rather deserved to
have been visited in anger. Since their last inter
view with their Master and Saviour, which took
place at his table, and in the garden of Gethsemane,
they had treated him in a very unkind and ungrate
ful manner. Though repeatedly warned by him
to watch and pray, lest they should enter into
temptation, they had neglected the warning, they
had yielded to temptation, they had proved un
faithful to their engagements, and, in a most pusil
lanimous manner, had forsaken him, nay, fled from
him in his greatest extremity. Nay more, one of
them had, with oaths and imprecations, denied that
he knew him. In addition to these sins, they had
all been guilty of criminal and inexcusable unbelief.
Though he had repeatedly forewarned them of his
approaching crucifixion, referred them to predic
tions of it in the Old Testament, and at the same

406 THE TIMELY PRESENCE
time assured them, that, on the third day, he would
rise again, yet they forgot his warnings, disbelieved
his assurances, and were, in consequence, plunged
into the depths of despondency by his death. So
obstinate was their incredulity, that they even re
fused to believe the testimony of those, to whom he
had revealed himself on the morning of his resur
rection. These were surely great sins ; they must*
have been exceedingly painful and offensive to their
Master ; they rendered them most undeserving, not
only of this gracious visit, but of ever being again
numbered among his disciples. Yet instead of re
nouncing them, instead of treating them as they
had treated him, he comes to visit them, and the
first sentence which he utters is, Peace be unto
you. O, if they had any feeling, how must this
unmerited kindness from their injured Master have
shamed them, and cut them to the heart ! No re
proaches or threatenings would have been one half
so overwhelming, or so hard to bear. While con
templating *his conduct, we may well exclaim with
David, Is this the manner of men, O Lord ? No ;
it is the manner of Christ alone.
\. This visit was made at a time, when the
church was very imperfectly prepared for it, and
when very few among them expected it, or had
any hope of such a favor. It is true, indeed, that
a few individuals among them were in some good
measure prepared for it. * Peter had repented of
his fall, and wept over it in bitterness of soul, and
to him Christ had previously appeared, as he had

AND SALUTATION OF JESUS. 407
also to two others of the brethren, and to several
ofthe female disciples. And some, who had not
yet seen him, were so far convinced by their testi
mony, that their unbelief and despondency began
to give way. But the great body of them appear
to have been still incredulous, and by no means
prepared for such a visit, or disposed to expect it.
That they were so, is evident from the fact, that,
even after their Master had appeared among them,
and spoken to them, they would scarcely believe the
testimony of their own senses. He was obliged to
expostulate with them, to shew them his hands and
his feet, bearing the scars of the cross, and to par
take of food in their presence, before they would
be convinced that it was indeed he himself. It is
however possible, and perhaps not improbable, that
this backwardness to believe, was occasioned, in
part, by a conviction of their own great unworthi
ness. They could not but recollect how they had
forsaken him when he was in the hands of his ene
mies, though they had but just before promised
never to forsake him. And this recollection, with
the feelings of conscious guilt, which it must have
occasioned, might perhaps lead them to suppose,
that, even if their injured Master were risen from
the dead, he would not sO soon favor them with a
gracious visit, but would rather consider and treat
them as persons unworthy to be his disciples. If
they really entertained these feelings of conscious
unworthiness, they were in some measure prepared
for their Master's return to them; for he ever

408 THE TIMELY PRESENCE
regards those who feel most unworthy of his favors,
as best prepared to receive them. Indeed he con
fers them on none, except such as are sensible of
their own unworthiness ; for such persons only will
receive them with thankful humility, and duly ap
preciate the goodness, which leads him to be
stow them.
3. The time, when Christ made this gracious vis
it to his church, was a time, in which it was very
much needed. The faith, and hope, and courage
of its members were reduced to the lowest point of
depression, and unless revived by his presence, must
soon have expired. One member after another,
would have returned to his original occupation, and
the church would have been scattered and become
extinct. In these circumstances, it seemed indis
pensably necessary to the continued existence of
the church, that something should be done, and
done speedily, to revive it. And this gracious vis
it from Christ, was precisely what it needed for its
revival. The sight of their beloved Master, raised
from the dead, standing among them, and addres
sing them in language, which implied forgiveness,
and expressed affection, revived their drooping spir
its, banished their doubts and anxieties, rendered
their faith stronger than it had ever been, and fill
ed them with joy, and gratitude, and love. Noth
ing, then, could be more necessary, or more season
able, than this gracious visit. ,
4. This visit was made at a time, when the
church was employed in exerting the little life,

AND SALUTATION OF JESUS. 409
which yet remained among them, and in using
proper means to increase it. Though assembling
at this time was dangerous, so that they did not
dare to meet openly, yet they did assemble, and
they assembled in the character of Christ's disci
ples. This proved the existence of a bond of union
among them, which drew them together. This
bond of union consisted in sympathy of feeling.
They all felt the same affections, the same appre
hensions and anxieties, and the same sorrows, and
all their thoughts centered in one object. This
object was their crucified Master. Though they had
forsaken him in a moment of temptation, yet they
could not utterly renounce him. They could not
give up all the hopes, which he had excited, nor
cease to feel the affection, with which they had re
garded him. His dead body, his grave, had still
more charms for them, than any other object, and
they found a melancholy pleasure in thinking of
him, in recollecting his actions and discourses, and
in speaking of these subjects to those who could
sympathize with them. These feelings had pre
vented them from leaving Jerusalem and returning
to Galilee, and the same feelings now drew them
together. And while they were together, those few,
to whom their Master had appeared, and whose
faith had in consequence revived, were endeavor
ing to revive the faith and animate the hopes of
their fellow disciples. They were assuring them,
that they had seen him, and spoken with him, that
they had not been deceived ; and were also calling
52

410 THE TIMELY PRESENCE
their attention to the promises and predictions,
which he had uttered respecting his resurrection.
Thus those who had any faith in exercise, were
doing all in their power to encourage those who
had none ; and those who had none, or who then
seemed to have none, were listening to their breth
ren, half willing to be convinced, but still fluctua
ting between hope and fear. And it was at the
very moment, while they were thus employed, that
their Master stood in the midst of them and said,
Peace be unto you. Yes, when they, who feared
the Lord, thus spoke one to another, the Lord
hearkened and heard it, and not only heard it, but
appeared to bless them.
- 5. The gracious visit appears to have been made
the very first time that the church met after
Christ's resurrection. This circumstance is high
ly indicative of his affection for them, of his un
willingness to leave them mourning one moment
longer than was necessary, and of his strong de
sire to be again in the midst of them. Since he
had died for them, he loved them better, if possi
ble, than before. They were endeared to him by
the price which he had paid for them, by the ago
nies which they had cost him. Hence he longed
to see them, to speak to them, to assure them of
his forgiving, unchanging love, and turn their sor
row into joy. Should any father present, volun
tarily encounter great hardships, sufferings, and
dangers for the sake of saving his children from
death or slavery, would he not earnestly wish, af-

AND SALUTATION OF JESUS. 411
ter their deliverance was effected and his own suf
ferings were ended, to see them again, that he
might congratulate and rejoice with them ; would
they not now be dearer to him than ever ; and
would he not, when he met them, feel compensat
ed for all that he had suffered ? Similar, we may
without presumption suppose, were the feelings of
the man Christ Jesus, on this occasion.
We remark, lastly, that this gracious visit was
made on the Lord's day, or Christian Sabbath.
And the next visit, which he made to his church,
was made on the next Lord's day. Thus early did
he begin to put honor on the Christian Sabbath,
and to intimate that it was designed to come in
place of the seventh day, or Sabbath of the Jews.
In a similar manner he has ever since continued
to honor it. There has not, probably, a single
Christian Sabbath passed, from that day to this, in
which our Saviour has not graciously manifested
himself, if not to whole churches, yet to individual
disciples. Nor will this day pass without similar
honors. In the midst of some little band of his
disciples, our Master will to-day stand invisible
and say, Peace be unto you. My brethren, I
doubt not that every real Christian present will
unite in saying, Would to God, that we might be
thus favored. Would to God, that, when this
church shall approach his table, he would come
into the midst of it, and say, Peace be unto you.
For those of you, who are Christ's real disciples,
know experimentally, that though our Saviour is

412 THE TIMELY PRESENCE
no longer visibly present on earth, he still favors
his church with his real presence, and manifests
himself to them, as he does not to the world ; and
that where two or three only assemble in his name,
there he is in the midst of them. You also know,
that, without using an audible voice, he can effec
tually speak peace to a guilty conscience, and a
trembling, doubting heart ; and make fainting love
revive, and faith and hope grow strong. But the
great question is, Will he thus favor us ? Have
we any reason to hope that he will thus favor us,
on the present occasion ? It may be remarked, in
reply to this question, that, in several particulars,
the present situation of this church strikingly re
sembles that of the disciples, at the time, when they
were favored with this gracious manifestation of
their Master's presence.
In the first place, we are, as they were, exceed
ingly unworthy of such a favor. This, I trust, you
are all ready to acknowledge. There cannot sure
ly be an individual present, who will say, I am not
unworthy of a gracious visit from Christ. To say
nothing of our former sins, which were great, and
numerous, and aggravated beyond all computation,
have not the sins, which Christ has seen in us
since our last approach to his table, been suffi
cient to render us forever unworthy of his pres
ence ? Have we not been unfaithful to our cove
nant engagements ? have we not practically denied
him ? have we not, though often warned, neglect
ed to watch and pray against temptation ? have

AND SALUTATION OF JEsfts. 413
we not suffered worldly-mindedness and unbelief
to prevail in our hearts ?
In the second place, are we not, like the disci
ples, far from being suitably prepared for such a
visit ? We are accustomed to suppose, and with
truth, that thorough repentance, and deep humilia
tion for sin, are proper and necessary preparations
for the gracious presence of Christ. But have we
not reason to fear, that there is little of thorough
repentance, or of deep humiliation among us ?
And does not unbelief prevail extensively ? Do
not many of you as little expect to see the Sa
viour coming to revive his work among us, as the
disciples expected to see him among them, when
they assembled on that evening ?
In the third place, it is certain that we greatly
need such a favor. The disciples scarcely needed
it more than we do. It seems as if nothing but
our Master's returning presence can save us from
the power of spiritual death. Unless he shall ere
long thus favor us, the evils, which now prevail, will
prevail more extensively and more fatally ; iniquity
will abound more and more ; love will become more
and more cold, and scandals and divisions will soon
be seen. But on this point of resemblance we
need not enlarge. No disciple of Christ among us
need be told, how greatly we need his gracious
presence. To these remarks it is scarcely worth
while to add, that we are now assembled in the
character of Christ's disciples, and on the day,
which he delights to honor. Thus far then, we may

414 THE TIMELY PRESENCE
trace a manifest resemblance between our situation
and that of the disciples. But we can, I fear, trace
it no farther. I fear that we do not lament the
loss of Christ's presence, and lay it seriously to
heart, as they did. We are ready indeed to ac
knowledge, that it is an evil, and that it ought to
be lamented. But do we suitably lament it ? Do
not many of us rather seek to console ourselves for
his absence, by engaging more eagerly in worldly
pursuits ? And are those, who have any life, using
all the means in their power to revive and animate
those who have none ? In fine, is there among us
any thing like that ardent, unappeasable desire for
the presence of Christ ; that preference of it to ev
ery other blessing, which we have reason to think
the disciples felt ? I fear not ; and I cannot but
suspect, that, if he does not, on this occasion, favor
us with his presence, it will be, not on account of
our unworthiness, nor on account of our unprepar-
edness in other respects ; but because he sees that
we are not* suitably desirous of his presence, and
that we are not exciting ourselves and each other to
seek for it. If we are really deficient in this respect,
it is indeed a great obstacle to the coming of Chftltf;
among us ; for seldom indeed does he visit any
church, until he sees that his presence is earnestly
desired and sought for, and that he shall meet with
a joyful reception. My brethren, should he not fa
vor us with his presence on this occasion, let us
consider this evil as the cause of his absence, and
set ourselves to remove it without delay. Let all,

AND SALUTATION OF JESUS. 415
who have any religious feeling, use all the means
in their power to excite similar feelings in the
hearts of their brethren. Let all beware, how
they forsake the assembling of themselves togeth
er, as the manner of some is. Remember that it
was a private meeting of the church, at which our
Saviour thus appeared to them. Remember, too,
what Thomas lost by being absent from this one
meeting. While all his fellow disciples were filled
with faith, and hope, and love, and joy, he was
left for a time under the power of unbelief and
despondency. But should our Master, notwithstanding our un
worthiness, condescend to favor us at this time
with his gracious presence ; should he come and
stand in the midst of us, and say, Peace be unto
you ; what shall we do ? My brethren, we need
not tell you what to do. Your own hearts will in
form you. Every one, to whom the Saviour shall
manifest himself, will feel ready to cast himself at
his feet, to admire, and wonder at, and thank him
for his goodness ; he will feel more than ever sen
sible of his own unworthiness of such a favor; he
will repent in dust and ashes, and his future life,
like that of the disciples, will evince his sincerity,
and be spent in self-denying, and persevering la
bors in his Master's service.

416 A FESTIVAL KEPT

SERMOtf XXII.
A FESTIVAL KEPT TO THE LORD.
LEVITICUS XXIII. 39.
WHEN YE HAVE GATHERED IM THE FRUIT OF THE LAND, YE SHALL
KEEP A FEAST UNTO THE LORD.
If we review attentively the religious ordinanc
es which God has appointed, we can scarcely fail
to perceive, that he has usually passed by all the
inventions of men, and adopted institutions which
were exclusively his own ; institutions, which hu
man wisdom would never have devised, and which,
in her view, are too often little better than fool
ishness. In this, as in many other cases, his ways
have not been like our ways, nor his thoughts like
our thoughts. These remarks we may see verifi
ed, in the appointment of circumcision, of sacrifi
ces, of baptism, and of the Lord's supper. In
some few Instances, however, God has conde
scended to pursue a different course. He has se
lected some significant action, or ceremony, by
which men had been previously accustomed to ex
press strong emotion ; and, by commanding them
to make use of it, as an expression of religious
feeling, has invested it with the dignity and sacred-
ness of a religious ordinance. An instance of this
kind may be found in the appointment of religious
fasting. Fasting is a natural expression, because
it is a natural effect, of extreme sorrow ; for this

TO THE LORD. 417
emotion, when felt in a very high degree, takes
away the appetite for food, and renders the recep
tion of it not only disagreeable, but almost imprac
ticable. Hence, God prescribed religious fasting
as a proper expression of Godly sorrow for sin ;
and were we affected by our sins as we ought to
be, we should feel constrained to fast much more
frequently, and should fast much more acceptably,
than we do. Another instance of the same kind
may be found in the institution of religious feasts,
or, to use a more proper term, festivals. From
the earliest ages, of which any records remain,
mankind have been accustomed to commemorate
joyful events, and to express the joy and gratitude
which such events excited, by the observance of
anniversary festivals. As the all wise God well
knew how difficult it would be to wean men from
the observance of such festivals, and as they were
capable of being rendered subservient to his own
gracious designs, he saw fit under the ancient dis
pensation to give them a religious character, by
directing his people to observe them in commemo
ration of the favors, which they had received from
his hand, and as an expression of their gratitude
for those favors. Of these divinely appointed fes
tivals, several are mentioned in the Levitical law,
but our only concern at present is with that, which
is prescribed in our text ; When ye have gathered
in the fruit of the land, ye shall keep a feast unto
the Lord. 53

418 A FESTIVAL KEPT
We do not lead your attention to this command
because we suppose it is still in force. It was a part
not of the moral, but of the ceremonial law, which
was designed to continue only till the coming of
Christ, and it has long since been annulled, with
the other precepts of that law, by the same author
ity which imposed it. There can scarcely be a
doubt, however, that it was this command which
Jed the fathers of New England to establish the
custom of annually observing, at the close of har-
yest, a day of thanksgiving and praise. But
though they established this custom without any
express command or warrant from God, the pro
priety of continuing it cannot well be questioned.
To offer praise and thanksgiving to God, is a duty
which we find frequently enjoined, not in the Old
Testament only, but in the New. It is highly de
sirable that whole communities should sometimes
unite in the performance of this duty ; and no
seasqn seems so proper for this purpose, as that,
which succeeds the gathering in of the fruits of the
earth, the gifts of our heavenly Benefactor. In
support of this custom we may remark farther, that
hesid©8 the festivals which God had established, the
Jews were accustomed to observe several festivals
of human appointment, such as the feast of dedica
tion) and the feast of Purim ; and that our Saviour
while on earth, sanctioned this custom by uniting
with theni in the observance of these festivals.
We cannot doubt, therefore, that, were he now re
siding among us, he would unite with us in observ-

TO THE LORD. 419
ing this day, though it is a festival of human
appointment. But whatever opinions any may entertain with
respect to the propriety of observing this day, we
presume all will agree, that, if it be observed at all,
it ought to be observed in a proper manner ; a
manner, which we have reason to believe will be
acceptable to God. If it is not observed in such a
manner, the day will be much worse than lost. It
will serve no other purpose than to increase our
guilt, excite God's displeasure, and provoke him to
express it by sending judgments upon us. He will
regard it as he regarded the festivals of the Jews
when they ceased to observe them in the manner
which he had prescribed ; and will, in effect, say
to us, as he did to them, Your appointed feasts my
soul hateth ; they are a trouble to me, I am weary
to bear them. What then, we may and ought to
inquire, what is it to observe this day in a right
and acceptable manner ? The best answer, which
I can give to this question, is furnished, by our
text. It is to keep or observe it, as a festival unto
the Lord. The necessity of thus observing it may
be inferred from the answer, which God gave his
ancient people, when they inquired whether they
should continue to fast on certain days which had
long been set apart for that purpose. When ye
fasted, says he, did ye fast at all unto me, even
unto me ? And when ye ate and drank, did ye not
eat for yourselves, and drink for yourselves ? As
if he had had said, Whether you have fasted, or

420 A FESTIVAL KEPT
feasted, ye have done it not unto me, but to please
yourselves. Why then do you inquire of me
whether you shall continue to observe days for
these purposes ? So long as you observe them for
yourselves, and not unto me, what is it to me,
whether you do, or do not observe them. It is
then most evident, that, if we mean to observe this
day in a manner which shall be acceptable to God,
we must keep it as a festival unto him. But still
the question returns, What is it to keep, or what is
implied in keeping a festival unto God ? To this
question we may reply, in general terms, that, to
keep a festival unto God, is to observe it with a
view, not to please ourselves, but to please and
honor him ; to regard it as a day sacred to his
special service ; and to spend it in contemplating
and praising his perfections, recollecting and
thanking him for his favors, rejoicing before him in
his existence, his character, his government, and
his works, and thus giving him the glory which is
due to his name. But the question before us de
mands on this occasion, a more particular and
expanded answer ; and such an answer we shall
attempt to give it, not however altogether in a dry
didactic form, nor by a long enumeration of partic
ulars, but by exhibiting two views of the subject,
from which we may learn every thing that it is ne
cessary for us to know respecting it. We shall
attempt, I. To give you a view, of the manner, in which

TO THE LORD. 421
this festival should be observed by us, considered
simply as God's intelligent creatures ; and
II. Of the manner in which we should observe.
it, considered as sinful, guilty creatures, to whom
his grace and mercy are offered through a Re
deemer. That the firsj: of these proposed views, may be
placed before you, in the clearest and most inter
esting light, let me request you to suppose, that
our first parents, instead of falling, as they did,
almost immediately, from their holy and happy
state, had continued in it, until they were sur
rounded by a numerous family like themselves, and
that, in these circumstances, they had set apart a
day to be observed as a festival to their Creator
and Benefactor. It is evident, that, if we can
conceive of the manner, iu which they would have
observed such a day, we shall learn in what man
ner this day ought to be observed by us, consider
ed simply as God's intelligent creatures ; for as
such, our rule of duty is the same, which was giv
en to them ; we are commanded, as they were, to
love God with all our hearts, and as they were
perfectly holy, they would render perfect obedience
to this command, and spend the day in a perfectly
holy manner, as we should aim to spend this, and
indeed every otheTday. Let us then, endeavor to
conceive of it. Let us suppose the morning of
their appointed festival to have just dawned, and
before they wake from their peaceful slumbers let
us draw near and take a position favorable for

422 A FESTIVAL KEPT
observing their conduct, and becoming acquainted
with their views and feelings. No sooner do they
wake to a returning consciousness of existence,
than a recollection of the Author, Preserver, and
Sustainer of that existence, and of their number
less obligations to his goodness, rushes upon, and
fully possesses their minds. No sooner do their
eyes open, than they are raised to heaven with a
look expressive, in the highest degree, of every
holy, affectionate emotion. Each one perceives,
with clear intuitive certainty, that he is indebted
to God for every thing — that God is his life, his
happiness, his all. These views fill his heart with
adoring gratitude ; gratitude, not like ours, a com
paratively cold and half selfish emotion, but a
gratitude pure, fervent and operative, which car
ries out the whole soul in a rapturous burst of
thankfulness, and renewed self dedication to God.
At the same time, his various perfections, display
ed in his works, are reflected to their view from
every thing abound them. Or, as the apostle ex
presses it, the invisible things of God, even his
eternal power and godhead, are clearly seen by
the things which he has made. The whole crea
tion is to them like one vast mirror, which reflects
the glory of God, as an unruffled lake reflects the
image of the noon-day sun. Not more instanta
neously, not more powerfully, nor with such a
cheering, animating influence, does the light of
the sun pour itself upon their opening eyes, as the
light of God's glory, shining in all his works, pours

TO THE LORD. 423
itself upon the eye of their mind, illuminating and
warming, with its vivid celestial beams, every re
cess of the soul, and filling that little interior world
with unclouded day.
And while all the works of God thus reflect his
glories to the eye, they seem to proclaim his prais
es to the ear, of their mind. To them every ob
ject has a voice, and every voice, in language
which they well understand, tells them something
of the perfections of their Creator. The heavens
declare to them his glory, and every leaf, and eve
ry flower whispers his praise. -In fine, to them
every place is full of God, every object speaks of
God ; every thing shines with the glory of God ;
and as a recollection of his favors awakened their
gratitude, so a view of his glories excites their
reverence, their admiration, their love, and joy,
and gradually raises their affections to such a
height, that it becomes impossible not to express
them. Their eyes, their countenances, have in
deed already expressed them, and rendered even
their silence eloquent, for while they were musing
the fire of devotion burned within. But they can
be silent no longer, and in strains no less pure, and
httle less sweet and powerful, than those of the
angelic choirs, they begin to pour forth the emo
tions of their swelling, almost bursting hearts, and
with humble, but rapturous thanksgivings and prais
es, acknowledge the favors and celebrate the per
fections of their adorable Creator. And while
they thus address to him their thanks, and their

424 A FESTIVAL KEPT
praises, they feel that they are addressing not an
absent, but a present God. Though invisible to
their bodily eyes, he is not so to the eye of their
minds ; they perceive, they feel his presence ; they
feel that his all pervading, all enfolding Spirit per
vades and embraces their souls, breathing into
them love, and joy, and peace, unutterable, and
wrapping them up, as it were, in himself. Thus
each individual apart, commences the observance
of their festal day, and enjoys intimate, and sweet,
and ennobling communion with the Father of spir
its in solitary devotion.
But man is a social being, and the social prin
ciple, which God has implanted in his nature,
prompts him to wish for associates in his religious
pleasures and pursuits. It is proper that he should
wish for them, and, if possible, obtain them ; for
when a festival is to be kept unto the Lord, when
thanksgiving and praise are to be offered, two are
better than one. United flames rise higher to
wards heaven, impart more heat, and shine with
brighter lustre, than while they remained separat
ed. If private, solitary devotion be the melody of
religion, united devotions constitute its harmony ;
and without harmony the music is not perfect and
complete. What, comparatively, would the songs
of heaven be, were they sung by a single voice,
even though it were the voice of an archangel ?
Let us then now contemplate the scattered mem
bers of this holy and happy community assembling
from their solitary walks, and places of retirement,

TO THE LORD. 425
to rejoice, and praise, and give thanks together,
and thus unite the flames and the incense of indi
vidual devotion in the blaze of one grand, combin
ed sacrifice. Mark the feelings, with which they
approach and meet. Every eye sparkles with de
light ; every countenance beams with affection J
there is but one heart, and one soul among them
all, and that heart, and that soul is filled with holy
gratitude and love, tempered by adoring admira
tion, reverence, and awe. Fresh excitements to
the increase of these emotions are furnished by
their meeting. Each one sees in his rational, im
mortal fellow creatures, a nobler work of God, a
brighter exhibition of his moral perfections, than
the whole inanimate creation could afford. In
each of them he sees that image of God, which
consists in knowledge, and righteousness, and ho
liness ; for in this image man was createdj and we
are supposing him not as yet to have lost it. And
while each one contemplates this image of God in
his fellow creatures, he is ready to exclaim, If
these miniature images of God are so lovely, how
infinitely worthy of love must the great original
be ? If there is so much to admire in the streams,
what admiration does the fountain deserve ? Nor
is this all. In the various relations and ties, which
bind them together, they see new proofs of all-wise
benevolence, new reasons why they should love
and thank him, who established these relations,
and formed these ties. The husband and the wife
meet with that perfect mutual affection, which God
54

426 A FESTIVAL KEPT
enjoins, and a recollection of the happiness which
has resulted from their union, leads them, with
simultaneous emotion, to bless the Being, who gave
them to each other. Parents and children meet
in the perfect exercise of holy, parental, and filial
affection ; and while the parents see in their chil
dren the gifts of God, and the children see in
their parents those whom he appointed to be the
protectors of their infancy, the instructers of their
childhood, and the guide of their youth, they unite
to bless him together. Thus, instead of idolizing
children and friends, or putting them in the place
of God, they love and enjoy God in them, and
make use of them to excite their gratitude, and
lead their affections to him. Under the influence
of these affections, the yet stammering child is
taught the name of its Creator and Benefactor ;
while to the attentive ear of those who are a little
farther advanced in life, the history of the creation
and of all that God has done for his creatures, is
recounted ; his commands, and their obligations to
obey them, are stated ; the nature and design of
the festival, which they are observing, are explain
ed ; and they are taught to perform their humble
part in its appropriate services. In these services
all now join ; and O, with what perfect union of
heart ! with what self annihilating humility, — with
what seraphic purity and fervency of affection, — do
they present their combined offering of thanksgiv
ing and praise ! Suffice it to say, that the ear of
omniscience itself can discern no shade of difference

TO THE LORD. 427
between the language of their lips and that of their
hearts, unlqss it be this, that their hearts feel more
than their lips can express.
These sacred and delightful services being end
ed, they prepare to feast before their Benefactor ;
but this preparation is made, and the feast itself is
participated with the same feelings, which anima
ted their devotions ; for whether they eat, or drink,
or whatever they do, they do all to the glory of
God. On such an occasion they may, perhaps,
place upon their board a greater variety, than usu
al, of the fruits of Paradise ; but if so, it is not so
much with a view to gratify their appetites, as to
exhibit more fully the various and ample provision
which God has made for them ; and thus, through
the medium of their senses, to affect their hearts ;
for man has not yet begun to consume the bounty
of heaven upon his lusts. He has not yet yielded
himself a willing, but ignoble slave to his corporeal
appetites ; nor, we may add, has he yet learned, as
too many of his posterity have since done, to sit
down to the table of Providence, and rise from it
refreshed, without acknowledging the hand that
feeds him. No, the blessing of God is implored
and his presence desired, as the crowning joy of
their feast, without which even the fruits of Para
dise would be insipid, and the society of Paradise
uninteresting. And while they sit around his table,
the viands which nourish their bodies, furnish their
minds with new food for devotional feeling ; for
in every fruit before them they see the power,

428 A FESTIVAL KEPT
wisdom, and goodness of their Benefactor, embod
ied and made perceptible to their senses ; they see
that his goodness prompted him to give them that
gratification, that his wisdom devised it and that his
power gave it existence. Thus, while they feast
upon the fruits of his bounty, their souls feast upon
the perfections which those fruits display. Thus
God is seen and enjoyed in every thing, and every
thing leads up their thoughts and affections to him,
while he sits unseen in the midst of them, shedding
abroad his love through all their hearts, and re
joicing with benevolent delight in the happi
ness which he at once imparts and witnesses.
Meanwhile, their conversation is such, as the
attending angels, who hover around, would not be
ashamed to utter, nay such as God himself is well
pleased to hear. The law of kindness is on all
their lips, for the law of love is in all their hearts.
But we can pursue this part of our subject no
farther. This must suffice as a specimen of the
manner, in vfhich sinless creatures would keep a
feast unto the Lord, indeed, of the manner in which
all their days would be spent. And if so, may we
not well exclaim, O sin, what hast thou done !
What beauty, what glory, what happiness hast thou
destroyed ! How hast thou embittered our food,
poisoned our cup, darkened the eye which once
saw God in all his works ; polluted and rendered in
sensible the heart, which once bore his image and
was filled with his love, and by one fatal accursed
blow, murdered both the body and the soul of man !

TO THE LORD. 429
Who can wonder that God hates — who can refrain
from hating — the destroyer of so much good, the
cause of so much evil ! Were it not for sin, we
should observe this day in a manner as holy and as
happy, as has now been described. We have the
same powers and faculties, which were possessed
by our first parents in Paradise. And if we may be
lieve the declarations of scripture, or the testimony
of good men, God's glory still shines as brightly
in his works, as it did then. There is nothing
but our own sinfulness to prevent us from seeing
it as clearly, as it was seen by our first parents,
and from being affected by the sight as they were
affected. But to return — If such is the manner, in which
innocent creatures would keep a feast unto the
Lord, then such is the manner in which we should
aim to keep this annual festival. We should desire
and aim to exercise the same feelings, to worship
God with the same sincerity, fervency, and unity
of affection, and to converse and partake of his
bounty in the same manner. I do not say we shall
perfectly succeed in such an attempt, but I do say
that we ought to make it. He who does not make
it, he who does not desire and aim to serve God with
his whole heart, and feel dissatisfied with himself in
proportion as he comes short of it, is as far from
Christian sincerity, as he is from sinless perfection.
But though we all ought to be perfectly holy, it
is but too evident that we are not so. We have all
sinned ; we still sin ; we must all have perished in

430 A FESTIVAL KEPT
our sins, had not God graciously interposed to pre
vent it. He has revealed a new dispensation, a
dispensation, in which grace and mercy are offer
ed us through a Redeemer.
Through this Redeemer, the Lord Jesus Christ,
he has also revealed to us, a new way of approach
ing him, of serving him acceptably, and of obtain
ing everlasting life. These all important facts and
truths connected with them, must by no means be
forgotten or neglected by us, when keeping a
feast unto the Lord. They must evidently modify,
in a very great degree, the manner in which we
observe it, and the views and feelings with which
its services are performed.- This remark we shall
illustrate more fully. Having shewn how we ought
to keep this festival, considered simply as God's in
telligent creatures, we shall now, as was proposed,
II. Attempt to show how we should keep it, con
sidered as sinful creatures, under a dispensation of
mercy. In attempting this we shall pursue the same
course, which has been pursued in the former part
of the discourse. We will suppose that the holy
and happy community, whose festival we have
been contemplating, fall from their original state,
and become sinners like ourselves. In other
words, they transgress the law of God, the sanc
tion of which is death. In consequence, sentence
of death is immediately passed upon them, to be
executed, they know not when, but just when it
shall please their offended judge. Meanwhile, they

TO THE LORD. 431
are banished from Paradise, excluded from the fa
vor and presence of God, and from the tree of life,
which was the sacramental pledge of their immor
tality, and see a flaming sword blazing behind them,
and turning every way, to prevent them from again
entering their forfeited Eden. Nor is the change
in their outward situation greater than that, which
they find in their character and feelings. They
have lost the image of God, they have lost all love
to God, they no longer regard or address him with
filial affection as a Father and a friend, but view
him, so far as they view him at all, as an offended
sovereign, whose law they have transgressed, and
by whose law they are inexorably doomed to des
truction. Indeed, God seems almost to have dis
appeared from their view. Their intellectual eye,
darkened by sin, no longer sees his glory in all his
works ; he no longer seems to sit enthroned on the
universe which he had made, nor do they, in the
daily gifts of Providence, see proofs of his bounty
or incitements to gratitude. The immense void
which his disappearance has left in the heart, is
filled by self love, and an inordinate, idolatrous at
tachment to creatures ; and to the great idol self,
and other subordinate idols, is transferred that hom
age, and those affections, which were once rendered
to God alone. In fine, they are become spiritually
dead, dead to God, to goodness, and to the end for
which they were created, dead in trespasses and
sins. Still, however, conscience retains a place in
their breasts, and at times it will speak ; but it

432 A FESTIVAL KEPT
speaks nothing except reproach, condemnation, and
terror. The only words, which it has heard from
the mouth of God, are, Thou shalt surely die ; and
these therefore are the only words which it will re
peat. And when roused by these words, they look
forward, it is without hope of mercy, it is to death
and the blackness of darkness, to judgment, and
fiery indignation. Then they wish in vain, that
they had never existed, they curse, at once, their
existence and its author, and feel all those terrible,
unaccountable emotions, which agitate with more
than a tempest's fury, a heart at enmity with God,
whenever it is forced to contemplate its great ene
my. Now suppose that these creatures, in this sinful,
guilty, wretched, despairing state, are placed un
der a dispensation, in which the grace and mercy
of God are offered them through a Redeemer, and
that just such a revelation is made to them, as has
been made to us in the New Testament. Suppose
farther, that, after they are placed under the new-
dispensation, they resolve to observe a religious fes
tival. What would be necessary, what would be
implied in their keeping it as a feast unto the Lord ?
I answer, the first thing necessary would evidently
be a cordial reconciliation to God. Until such a
reconciliation took place, they could neither ob
serve a religious festival, nor perform any other re
ligious duty, in a right and acceptable manner. —
Indeed, they would have no disposition to do it, nor
any of the feelings, which it implies and demands.

TO THE LORD. 433
The feelings, proper to be exercised on a religious
festival, are holy love, joy, and gratitude. But
they could exercise no love to God, unless they
were previously reconciled to him, to his character,
his government, and law. Nor could they exercise
holy joy ; for how could they rejoice in the exis
tence, or in the perfections, or in the government
of a being, whom they did not love ? Nor could
they sincerely offer thanksgiving and praise ; for
who can sincerely praise a being, or offer thanks to
a being, whose character and conduct he dislikes ?
Can a self-justifying criminal, under sentence of
death, rejoice and feast with proper feelings before
the judge who has condemned him ; or a servant,
under the eye of a master, whom he regards with
mingled dread and aversion ; or a rebel, in the pres
ence of a sovereign, whose character and laws he
dislikes, and whose power he dreads ? Or could
the prodigal son, had he been taken by force and
placed, at his father's table, while under the full in
fluence of those feelings which led him to forsake
his father's house, have enjoyed that situation, or
relished the feast before him ? But let the crimi
nal be reconciled to his judge and receive pardon ;
let the servant love his master, and the rebel sub
mit to his sovereign ; let the prodigal come to him
self, and exercise right feelings towards his father,
and the difficulty would, in each case, be removed,
and love, and joy, and gratitude be felt. Cordial re
conciliation to God, then, is indispensably necessary
55

434 A FESTIVAL KEPT
to enable sinful creatures to keep a feast unto
the Lord.
But reconciliation to God necessarily involves
hatred of sin, and self-condemnation, sorrow and
shame on account of it. No sinner can feel cor
dially reconciled to God, until he sees that his
character and all his proceedings are perfectly
holy, and just, and good ; for if they are not so, we
ought not to be reconciled to them. But among
God's proceedings, is the sentence of condemna
tion, which he has pronounced upon every sinner.
This, therefore, the sinner must see and feel to be
right, or he will not be reconciled to it. Now if
a sinner sees it to be right, that God should con
demn him, he will, of course, condemn himself.
He will say, God has been right, and I have been
wrong ; and in view of the wrong which he has
done, he will feel remorse, sorrow and shame, or,
in one word, he will repent. Without unfeigned
repentance, then, no sinner can keep a feast to the
Lord ; for every one, who 4s impenitent, is most
certainly unreconciled to God. He justifies him
self and thus condems the Almighty.
The exercise of faith in the Redeemer, through
whom grace and mercy are oflWed, is also indis
pensably necessary to the right observance of a
feast unto the Lord. The sinner, who has just
views of God, and of himself, as in some degree
every penitent sinner has, is unable to see how his
own salvation can be reconciled with the holiness,
justice, and truth of God. He feels himself to be a

TO TIIE LORD. 435
sinner ; he hears God's law say, The soul that sin-
neth shall die ; and he sees that God's holiness,
justice, and truth, all demand the execution of this
sentence. How then dare he hope for salvation ?
And unless he dare hope for it, how can he keep a
feast unto the Lord ? How can he pour out from
a happy, grateful, exulting heart, accents of thanks
giving and praise ? He will rather wish to fast, to
weep, and lament, and scarcely will he dare ask
his offended God to pardon and save him, lest it
should be asking him to sacrifice his perfections
for the sake of a sinful worm of the dust. But
shew him the Redeemer, set before him his atone
ment and intercession, and let him exercise faith
in them, and all his difficulties, doubts and fears
are removed ; he sees that God can be just, and
yet justify and save every sinner, who believes in
Jesus ; and now he can hope, and rejoice, and
exult ; now he feels, indeed, prepared to keep a
feast unto the Lord ; now he can cry, O Lord, I
will praise thee, for though thou wast angry with
me, thine anger is turned away, and thou com-
fortest me. Now he can feel and obey the exhor
tation, Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, for God
now accepteth thy works.
But these are not the only reasons, why the ex
ercise of faith in the Redeemer is necessary, in
the case of sinful creatures, to the acceptable ob
servance of a religious festival. When God pre
scribes a way, in which sinners shall approach him,
and present their services, they must on all occasions

436 A FESTIVAL KEPT
approach him in that way, and in no other ; or,
instead of finding acceptance, they will only ex
cite his displeasure. All the Jewish sacrifices,
for instance, were to be offered, all their religious
services performed, and all their festivals observed,
with reference to the tabernacle or temple, where
God manifested his gracious presence, and through
the medium of those typical mediators, or priests,
whom he had appointed. If any Jew presumed to
disregard these injunctions, to worship God on a
high place of his own creating, or to offer his sac
rifice with his own hands, instead of applying to
the priests, he drew upon himself a curse, instead
of a blessing. Just so under the christian dispen
sation. Christ is at once the true tabernacle, in
whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily,
and the only Mediator between God and man, —
the only way by which sinful man can have access
to God. I, says he, am the way, the truth and the
life ; no man cometh to the Father, but by me.
And again,— *through him we have access by one
Spirit unto the Father. Hence an apostle exhorts
us, whatever we do, in word or deed, to do all in
the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God
and the Father by him. This being the case, we
can neither keep a feast unto the Lord, nor offer
thanks, nor perform any other religious duty accep
tably, except in the name of Christ, or in the exer-
ercise of faith in his mediation.
And now let us suppose the community, which
we have already twice contemplated, first as per-

TO THE LORD. 437
fectly holy, and then as sinful, guilty, and undone,
to be a third time placed before us, reconciled to
God, exercising repentance and faith in Christ, and
engaged in keeping a religious festival, like that,
which we this day observe. They still feel, though
in an imperfect degree, the same affection which
we saw them exercise toward God' in their original
state ; but these affections are in a considerable
degree, at least, excited by different objects, and
variously modified by the change which has taken
place in their situation. They still feel grateful to
God for their existence, for their faculties, and
for the various temporal blessings which surround
them ; but they now view all these things as bles
sings, which they had forfeited and lost, and which
had been re-purchased for them by their Redeem
er, and freely bestowed upon them, as the gifts
of his dying love. Hence they seem, as it were, to
see his name on every blessing, and every blessing
reminds them of him. They still, as formerly, see
and admire God's perfections, as displayed in the
works of creation ; but their admiration and their
praises are now principally excited by the far
brighter, the eclipsing display which he has made
of his moral perfections, in the cross of Christ, in
the wonders of redemption. If they still adore,
and praise, and thank him, as the God of nature,
they adore, and praise, and thank him, with incom
parably more fervency, as the God of grace, the
God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. If they
think of him with affection, as the God who made

438 A FESTIVAL KEPT
the world, they think of him with far warmer affec
tion, as the God who so loved the world, that he
gave his only begotton Son to die for its redemp
tion. Loud above all their other praises and
thanksgivings may be heard the cry, Thanks be
unto God for his unspeakable gift ! Thanks be un
to God and the Lamb for redeeming love ! This
accords with God's own prediction, that under the
New dispensation, his former works should be com
paratively forgotten, and come no more into mind.
And while their thanksgivings and praises are thus
principally called forth by the blessings which are
conferred, and the divine perfections which are dis
played, in the work of redemption, Jesus Christ
holds that prominent place in their affections, and in
all their solitary and united devotions, which he
evidently held in the affections and devotions of
the apostles, and to which their writings teach us
he is entitled. If they come to God, it is as dwel
ling in Christ ; if they see his glory, it is as shining
in the face* of Christ ; if they rejoice in God, it is
as manifesting himself in Christ ; if they trust in
God, it is through the merits of Christ ; if they pray
to God, it is in reliance on Christ ; if they enjoy
God, they enjoy him in Christ ; if they offer praise
and thanksgiving to God, it is in the name of
Christ ; if they are constrained to holy obedience,
it is the love of Christ which constrains them ; if
they hope to persevere and obtain the victory, it is
in dependence on Christ ; if they say, we live, they
add, yet not we, but Christ liveth in us ; and when

TO THE LORD. 439
they anticipate most confidently the happiness of
heaven, they rejoice to borrow its language, and
cry, Now unto him that loved us, and washed us
from our sins in his own blood, be glory and domin
ion forever. In fine, Christ is their wisdom, their
strength, their righteousness, their life, and they
cordially unite with an apostle in saying, Christ is
all in all. Without him, we can do nothing ; but
through him we can do all things. And while their
religious views, and feelings, and services, are all
thus modified by an habitual reference to Christ,
they are still farther modified by a similar recollec
tion of the sinful, guilty, wretched state, from which
he rescued them, and by a view of the sins, which
still cleave to them, and defile all their duties. —
The effects of these views and recollections, are
penitence, contrition, and deep humiliation of soul,
and by them, all their religious feelings are perva
ded and characterised. When they love their God
and Redeemer, it is with a penitent love ; when
they rejoice in him, it is with a penitent joy ; when
they believe in him, it is with a penitent faith ; when
they obey him, it is with a penitent obedience ; when
they offer him thanksgivings and praises, penitence
mingles with them her humble confessions, and
contrite sighs ; and the place on earth, which they
most covet, in which they most delight, is that of
the woman who stood weeping at the feet of
Christ, washing them with her tears, and wiping
them with the hairs of her head. Even while ob
serving a joyful festival, tears, the fountain of which

440 . A FESTIVAL KEPT
is supplied by godly sorrow for sin, and gratitude
to the Redeemer; tears, which it is delightful to
shed, are seen on the same countenances, which
glow with love and hope, and beam with holy,
humble joy in God.
And when they sit down to the table of Provi
dence, to feast upon his bounty, the exercise of
these emotions is not suspended. They feel there
as pardoned sinners ought to feel, and as they
would wish to feel at the table of Christ, for the table
of Providence is become to them his table ; they re
member him there ; they remember, that when even
their daily food was forfeited by sin, and the curse
of heaven rested upon their basket and store, he re
deemed the forfeiture, and turned the curse into a
blessing. Hence they feast upon his bounty with
feelings resembling those, which we may suppose to
have filled the bosoms of Joseph's brethren, when
they ate and rejoiced before him. They had, you
recollect, hated him, persecuted him, conspired his
death, and sold him for a slave. But by the provi
dence of God he was exalted to power, and had
the satisfaction, not only of seeing them humbled
at his feet, but of saving them and their families
from death. After he had made himself known to
them, assured them of his forgiveness, and shewed
them, that, though they meant evil against him,
God had overruled it for good, he invited them to
a feast, and richly loaded their table with provis
ions from his own. We may, in^some measure,
conceive what their feelings must have been on

TO THE LORD. 441
such an occasion. Though they feasted and re
joiced before their highly exalted, but generous,
forgiving, and affectionate brother, yet feelings of
sorrow and shame could not but mingle with their
joy, and they must often have felt as if they wished
to rise from their table, throw themselves at his feet,
and once more ask his forgiveness. Well then
may the redeemed sinner feel thus, while he feasts
and rejoices before that much injured, exalted, and
compassionate Saviour, who is not ashamed to call
him brother, and who has not only redeemed and
forgiven him, but called him to share in all his
possessions and glories. And while such emotions
toward the Saviour fill the heart, his name cannot
be absent from the tongue. Husbands and wives
will speak of him to each other ; parents will speak
of him to their children ; his person, his character,
his offices and his works, will furnish the subject of
their conversation, and instructions ; and a realiz
ing apprehension of his unseen presence, far from
damping their joy, will only chastise and purify and
exalt it.
Such then, my hearers, are the views and feel
ings, with which, considered as sinful creatures,
under the christian dispensation, we ought to ob
serve this sacred festival. And now, allow me to
ask, is this requiring any thing unreasonable ? Is
it requiring one emotion for which the Gospel of
Christ does not furnish ample cause ? Is it re
quiring any thing more than may be justly expect
ed from creatures situated as we are, enjoying such
56

442 A FESTIVAL KEPT
distinguishing blessings, and privileges, and indebt
ed for them all to a Saviour's dying love ? Indeed,
is it requiring any thing, which would not be, in
the highest degree, conducive to your own happi
ness ? Would not this day, if spent in such a man
ner, be the happiest day which you ever enjoyed ;
a day like one of the days of heaven, and afford
ing a rich foretaste of its happiness ? Why then
should we not all spend what remains of it in this
manner ? why not thus keep it as a feast to the
Lord ? Ah, my hearers, this question cannot be
answered, at least not in a manner which will be
satisfactory to God, nor eyen to an enlightened
conscience. And why should any seek for an
answer ? Why should any one seek an excuse for
deferring his own happiness ? Suppose two per
sons, who have long been at variance, should hap
pen to meet to day at one of your tables. Might
they not become immediately reconciled, if they
chose, and feast together in mutual love ; and
would not the happiness of the feast be heightened
to each of them, by the pleasure of reconciliation ?
Why then may you not all become immediately re
conciled to your God, and begin to love that Sa
viour who says, I love them that love me ? Why
may you not all repair to your respective habita
tions, and there feast before God with feelings re
sembling these ? How can you find it in your
hearts to leave his house, where he entreats you to
be reconciled, return to the habitation which he
has prepared for you, feast upon the provision

TO THE LORD. 443
which he has made for you, which a Saviour pur
chased for you with his blood, look upon the chil
dren and friends whom he has given you, consider
the ties with which he has bound them to you, and
yet refuse to love him, and still persist in employ
ing the powers and faculties, with which he has
entrusted you, in opposing him ! O do not, I en
treat you, be so ungrateful to him, so cruel to
yourselves. As though God did beseech you by
us, we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled
to God.

444 THE SECOND

SERMON XXIII.
THE SECOND COMING OF CHRIST.
REVELATION I. 7.
BEHOLD, HE COMETH WITH CLOUDS; AND EVERY EYE SHALL SEE HIM,
AND THEY ALSO WHICH PIERCED HIM: AND ALL KINDREDS OF THE
EARTH SHALL WAIL BECAUSE OF HIM : EVEN SO. AMEN.
An apostle, speaking of the Lord's supper, inti
mates that the church will continue to partake of it,
and, by partaking of it, to shew forth his death un
til he shall come again. This ordinance, then, may
be considered as a chain, which connects the first
and the second coming of Christ. Of this chain,
as of -the gospel, he is at once the beginning and
the end. If we look back to the time of its insti
tution, we see Christ at his table, surrounded by a
little and despised band of disciples. If we look
forward to the period of its completion, we see
him on the Judgment-seat, surrounded by all the
glories and hosts of the celestial world. If we look
at its commencement, we see him expiring on the
cross ; if we look at its termination, we see him
coming in the clouds of heaven. It is this coming,
of which the beloved disciple speaks in our text.
Behold he cometh with clouds ; and every eye
shall see him, and they also which pierced him ;
and all kindreds of the earth shall wail because of
him : even so. Amen.
In this passage there are three things which de-

COMING OF CHRIST. 445
serve our attention ; — the coming of Christ ; his
being seen by all, and the manner in which different
characters will be. affected by the sight. A few re
marks on each of these particulars will comprise
the present discourse.
I. Let me lead your attention to the coming of
Christ itself. Behold he cometh with clouds. Of
the greatness, the importance of this event I shall
say nothing. To endeavor to enlarge your con
ceptions of it, by surrounding it with the pomp of
language, would be like attempting to gild the
noon-day sun. Every one must perceive at once,
that, if we except the first coming of Christ to die
for the world, inspiration has revealed no fact more
momentous, and interesting than that of his second
coming to judge the world. But respecting the
certainty of this event, it may. be proper to say
something more. I need not inform you, that, for
evidence of its certainty we must look to the scrip
tures alone : for it is a fact, which lies far beyond
the ken of human reason ; a fact, which God alone
could reveal. Reason might however, perhaps,
venture to expect, that, if God thought proper to
reveal a fact of such momentous interest, he would
reveal it clearly, and with a frequency of repeti
tion proportionate to its importance. In this ex
pectation she would not be disappointed. There
is perhaps no event, yet future, which is revealed
so clearly, or in so many different passages as this.
And in revealing it, the Spirit of God seems to have
avoided with unusual care, all metaphorical and

446 THE SECOND
figurative expressions, and to have chosen only the
plainest and most simple language ; language,
which cannot be misunderstood, nor, without the
utmost violence, perverted. A few out of the many
passages in which it is thus revealed, you will per
mit me to mention. Christ was once offered to
bear the sins of many ; and uftto them that look
for him shall he appear the second time without
sin unto salvation. The Lord himself shall de
scend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of
the ai&hangel, and with the trump of God. The
Lord Jesus shall be revealed from heaven, with his
mighty angels, in flaming fire taking vengeance on
them that know not God, and obey not the gospel ;
who shall be punished with everlasting destruction
from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory
of his power ; when he shall come to be glorified
in his saints, and to be admired in all them that be
lieve. Such is the language of inspired men.
Equally explicit is the testimony of angels. This
same Jesus? which is taken up from you into hea
ven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen
him go into heaven. S,till more explicit, if possi
ble is the language of our Saviour himself. The
Son of man, says he, shall come in his glory, and
all the holy angels with him ; then shall he sit upon
the throne of his glory : and before him shall be
gathered all nations. And again, Ye shall see the
Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven, with
power and great glory. I shall mention but one
declaration more, a declaration uttered in circum-

COMING OF CHRIST. 447
stances of peculiar solemnity. After he had been
apprehended by the Jews, the High Priest, finding
that he made no reply to their false accusations,
said to him, I adjure thee, by the living God, that
thou tell us, whether thou be the Christ, the Son
of God. This, according to the customs of the
Jews, was equivalent to the administration of an
oath. And our Saviour's answer was equivalent to
an answer given upon oath. And what was that
answer ? I am : and hereafter ye shall see the
Son of man sitting on the right hand of power, and
coming in the clouds of heaven. On hearing this
testimony from his lips, we may reply with the
high Priest, though in a different sense, what need
have we of any further witness ? we have heard
from his own mouth. If the solemn declaration,
the oath of the Son of God is true, then it is cer
tain, that he will come a second time in the clouds
of heaven. He, who does not believe this, believes
nothing which the scriptures assert.
II. The next particular in our text, which claims
attention, is the fact, that Jesus Christ, at his
second coming, shall be seen by all mankind.
Every eye shall see him. This assertion teaches
us, that he will come in a visible form ; for though
the word see, when used alone, often signifies
merely to perceive, yet it never, so far as I recol
lect, has this signification when used, as it is here,
in connection with the eye. The mind may be
said, figuratively speaking, to see or perceive truth,
and many other things, which are in their very

448 THE SECOND
nature invisible ; but the eye can see nothing, which
is not visible. And as Jesus Christ will come in a
visible form, so he will come, doubtless, in a human
form. He will come arrayed with that glorious
body, which, as another inspired passage informs
us, he now wears in heaven. Should this appear
doubtful to any, we would refer them to the pas
sages already mentioned, in which our Saviour
says, Ye shall see the Son of man coming in the
clouds of heaven ; an expression which must mean,
if it mean any thing, that he will come in his hu
man nature. The declaration of the angels is of
the same import. Ye shall see this same Jesus
come in like manner as ye have seen him go into
heaven. But they saw him ascend to heaven in
a human form ; they will, therefore, see him coming
in a human form. The language of St. Paul is, if
possible, still more decisive. God, says he, hath
appointed a day, in the which he will judge the
world in righteousness by that man, whom he hath
ordained, of which he hath given assurance to all
men, by raising him from the dead. At the same
time we are assure-tl, in other places, that God is
Judge himself, that our God shall come and not
keep silence ; a fire shall devour before him, and
it shall be very tempestuous round about him.
And St. John, describing a view which he had in
vision of the proceedings of the judgment day,
says, I saw the dead small and great stand before
God. These otherwise contradictory passages will
appear perfectly reconcilable, if we recollect, that

COMING OF CHRIST. 449
Jesus Christ is God manifest in the flesh, God and
man united in one person. His glorified body will
be the temple, the vehicle, in which God will come
to judgment, and this vehicle will be visible. Of
its appearance we may, perhaps, form some idea
from the description given by Daniel and St. John.
I beheld, says the former, till the thrones were cast
down, and the Ancient of days did sit, whose gar
ment was white as snow ; — 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.
Similar are the expressions of St. John. I saw
one, says he, like unto the Son of man, clothed with
a garment down to the foot, and girt about the
breast with a golden girdle. His head and his
hairs were white as snow ; and his eyes were as a
flame of fire ; and his feet were like unto fine brass,
as if they burned in a furnace ; and his voice was
as the sound of many waters, and his countenance
as the sun shineth in his strength. I need not re
mind you, that similar was his appearance on the
mount of transfiguration, when his human form as
sumed, for a time, some of that glory, which it was
destined to wear after his exaltation to heaven ; a
glory, however, which will be, doubtless, increased
in a degree that is inconceivable, when he shall
come, not in his own glory only, but in that of his
Father. Of this glory the sublime language of St.
John is suited to give the most exalted conception.
57

450 THE SECOND
I saw, says he, a great white throne, and him that
sat upon it, from whose face heaven and earth fled
away. But the assertion in our text teaches us,
not only, that Jesus Christ will come in a visible
form, but that all mankind shall behold him in this
form. Every eye shall see him. The same truth
is taught elsewhere. He assured his disciples,
that they should see him. He assured his ene
mies, that they should see him. He declared, that,
when he comes, he will gather before him all na
tions. And an apostle says, we must all appear
before the judgment-seat of Christ. And if he
comes in a visible form, and all are assembled be
fore him, all must, of course, see him. My hear
ers, meditate, a moment, upon this interesting
truth. Let every one say to himself, / shall see
this great sight. / shall see the Lord Jesus Christ,
the God-man, the Saviour, the Judge, of whom I
have heard so much. My body, when slumbering
in the grave, will hear his omnipotent voice and
come forth. * My long closed eyes will open, and
the descending Judge, and the judgment-seat, with
all its splendors, will burst upon them. Such was
Job's expectation. Though worms destroy this
body, yet in my flesh shall I see God ; whom mine
eyes shall behold, and I shall see for myself, and
not another. Let us attend,
III. To the manner, in which different charac
ters will be affected by this sight. Were the scrip
tures silent respecting this part of our subject, we
might still be sure, that all will not contemplate

COMING OF CHRIST. 451
this spectacle with similar feelings, nor be affected
by it in the same manner. The feelings, with
which men regard any object, will ever correspond
with their own character. Different characters
will regard the same object with different feelings .;
opposite characters with opposite feelings. Now
we know, that, among mankind, there are charac
ters not only widely different, but diametrically op
posite. We know, that, even now, these opposite
characters regard Jesus Christ, his word, his insti
tutions, his friends, with opposite feelings. We
know, that the thoughts of his second coming af
fect different persons in a very different manner.
Some desire it', others dread it ; some think of it
with pleasure, others with pain. Hence we might
naturally conclude, that, when the event shall ar
rive, different characters will be differently affect
ed by it. But we are not left to our own inferen
ces and reasonings on this point. Our text plainly
intimates, and other passages clearly teach us, that
the sight of Christ's coming in the clouds of heaven
will produce widely different effects upon different
characters. They teach us, first, that all good
men desire this event, and will contemplate it with
the most joyful emotions. This is intimated in our
text, where the inspired writer, after predicting
Christ's coming, and his being seen by every eye,
adds, Even so : amen, — that is, so let it be ; let
the event take place, as soon as God pleases. In
thus expressing his own feelings, he expressed the

452 THE SECOND
feelings of all, who, like himself, are faithful serv
ants of the Lord Jesus Christ. Agreeably, Chris
tians are described as those, who look for him ;
that is, who expect and desire his second coming.
And St. Paul informs us, that the righteous Judge
will, at the last day, give a crown of righteousness
to all who love his appearing. In another passage,
after predicting the second coming of Christ, he
adds, wherefore beloved, comfort ye one another
with these words. Now" if good men expect and
desire Christ's coming, if they love to think of it,
if it comforts them to speak of it, then surely they
will rejoice when they see it. Indeed, they cannot
but rejoice to see him, whom they have followed
by faith, whom they have loved with supreme af
fection ; who comes to complete their salvation, to
give them a crown of righteousness. Nor will this
joy be checked by any guilty fears or anxieties ; for
in their Judge they will see their Saviour, their
Friend, their Head, whose love for them passeth
knowledge, and who has said, whosoever shall con
fess me before men, him will I also confess before
my Father and the holy angels. But,
2. While all the faithful servants of Christ will
contemplate him With joy unspeakable and full of
glory, all of a different character will witness his
coming with unutterable horror, anguish, and des
pair. All kindreds of the earth shall wail because
of him. These effects of his coming are still more
forcibly described in a succeeding chapter. I be
held, says the Apostle, and the kings of the earth,

COMING OF CHRIST. 453
and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief
captains, and the mighty men, and every bond man,
and every freeman, hid themselves in the dens, and
in the rocks of the mountains, and said to the
mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from
the wrath of the Lamb ; for the great day of his
wrath is come, and who shall be able to stand ! It
seems to be clearly intimated, both in this passage
and in our text, that the' sight of Christ, at his
second coming, will be terrible to all, or nearly all,
who are then found alive in the world. We learn
from other inspired passages the reason of this. It
is because all, or nearly all, who are then found
alive, will be wicked men. When the Son of man
cometh, says our Saviour, will he find faith on the
earth ? That is, will he find many, who believe in
him, and expect his coming ? — a mode of express
ion, which forcibly intimates, that he will not. In
another passage, he teaches us, that, at his second
coming, he will find the world in the same situa
tion, in which it was found by the flood, in the days
of Noah, and in which Sodom was in the days of
Lot. As it was, says he, in the days of Noah, and
of Lot, so shall it be in the day, when the Son of
man is revealed, or appears. They ate, they
drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they
builded, and knew not, till the day in which Noah
entered into the ark, and the flood came and de
stroyed them all.
From these and other passages it is evident, that,
at the second coming of Christ, there will be very

454 THE SECOND
little religion, very few pious men found in the
world. But it may be asked, how does this rep
resentation agree with the many predictions, which
assure us that religion is yet to prevail, in a far
greater degree than it ever has done, and that the
knowledge of God shall fill the earth, even as the
waters cover the sea ? We shall find an answer
to this question in the twentieth chapter of Reve
lation. We are there taught, that the great temp
ter and deceiver of mankind, who deceiveth the
whole world, shall be bound for a thousand years ;
that is, during that period he shall not be permitted
to tempt or deceive mankind, and, in consequence,
religion will almost universally prevail. To this
period, all the passages,which speak of the great
extension of Christ's kingdom, refer. But after
the expiration of this period, the great adversary
will be released for a season ; in other words, he
will be suffered to renew his temptations, the con
sequence will be a great and almost universal
apostacy. Religion will be ridiculed and opposed,
and its friends persecuted with peculiar rancor ;
the church will be compassed about with enemies,
and on the very point of being swallowed up, and
then, in that critical moment, will be seen the
signs of the Son of. rtian coming in the clouds of
heaven. The sight will strike them suddenly and
unexpectedly. It will come, as our Saviour in-
fbrms us, as a flash of lightning ; or, as an apostle
expresses it, the day of the Lord will so come, as
a thief in the night. For when they shall say,

COMING OF CHRIST. 455
Peace and safety ; then sudden destruction com
eth upon them. And who can doubt that such a
sight, bursting in such a manner upon men immers
ed in worldly cares and pleasures, or engaged in
opposing the cause of Christ, will throw them into
an agony of consternation and distress ?
Suppose, for a moment, that this event should
take place now ; that, while 1 speak, the trumpet
should sound, and the fiery brightness, which will
surround the Judge, should begin to shine through
these windows. Can you doubt, that many of this
congregation would be distracted with guilty fear
and remorse ; and that all sinners, in all parts of
the world, would be affected in a similar manner ?
Some of you have seen into what wild alarm, what
temporary distraction, an assembly may be thrown
in a moment by an alarm of fire, or a cry, that the
house is falling. What then would be the effects
produced by the sight of the final Judge, of the
heaven's departing, of the world on fire ! Less
terrible was the sight of the flood to the guilty in
habitants of the old world ; less loud, less agoniz^
ing was the cry which they uttered, than that
which will burst from the lips of guilty mortals,
when every eye sees the Judge coming in the
clouds of heaven, with power and great glory.
It is not, however, to those only, who are found
alive in the world, that this sight will prove terri
ble. All the sinful dead, whose bodies are in the
grave, will then be roused ; for all that are in their
graves shall hear the voice of the Son of man,

456 THE SECOND
and shall come forth ; they that have done good,
to the resurrection of life, and they that have done
evil, to the resurrection of damnation. And O,
how different will be the appearance of these two
classes ! The former, with glorious bodies, resem
bling that of their Saviour, will shine forth like
the sun ; the holiness, and the love, and the hap
piness of heaven, beaming in their countenances
and sparkling in their eyes ; while the latter, dark
and gloomy as night, will express nothing but fear
and rage, envy and despair. Then will the pre
diction be fulfilled which says, Ye shall see a dif
ference made between the righteous and the wick
ed. Then the whole intelligent universe will see,
that, verily there is a reward for the righteous,
verily there is a God that judgeth in the earth.
Permit me now, my hearers, to improve the view
we have taken of this subject, by endeavoring to
bring it home to your bosoms, your consciences.
1. Consider the certainty of this event. The
passages, whtch have been quoted in this discourse,
will, I doubt not, convince you all, that, if the Bi
ble is true, this event is certain, as certain as if it
had already taken place. It is the same in the
sight of God, as if it had taken place. He sees it
as plainly, as if it were already past ; and this fact
renders it not only certain, that it will take place,
hut impossible that it should not take place. So
certainly then as the Bible is the word of God, so
certainly will your eyes see the Lord Jesus Christ
coming in the clouds of heaven. Are any of you

COMING OF CHRIST. 457
then prepared to rely on the assumption, that the
Bible is a forgery ? • Remember, that, if you rely
upon this, you stake every thing dear upon it, and
that, should you be deceived, you lose every thing,
lose your souls, lose salvation, and render your per
dition sure. My hearers, if there is even a prob
ability, nay, if there is a possibility, that the Bible
is true, it is madness to incur this risk. But why
do we talk of possibilities, or probabilities ? We
know that the Bible is the word of God; We know
that the Son of God has already come once, and
we know that he will come again. Heaven and
earth shall pass away, but his word shall not pass
away. 2. Let us improve the subject, by making use of
it to obscure the glare of worldly objects, and ex
tinguish the fires, which they are continually kind
ling within us. Let all, who are dazzled or fascin
ated by the pomp and splendor of the world, come
and contemplate a scene, which stains the pride of
all human glory, and throws far back into the
deepest shade every thing, which men call great,
or splendid, or sublime. What are the pompous
triumphs, the gaudy pageants, the long processions,
on which men gaze with eager delight, compared
with the descent of the Creator, the Judge from
heaven, surrounded by all the seraphic hosts, and
bearing with him the final sentence, the eternal,
unchangeable destiny of every child of Adam ?
Pause, then, for a moment, and contemplate, with
the eye of faith, or, if you have no faith, with the
58

458 THE SECOND
eye of imagination, this tremendous scene. Look
at that point, far away in the ethereal regions,
where the gradually lessening form of our Saviour
disappeared from the gaze of his disciples, when
he ascended to heaven. In that point see an un
common, but faint and undefined brightness just
beginning to appear. It has caught the roving
eye of yon careless gazer, and excited his curiosi
ty. He points it out to a second, and a third. A
little circle soon collects, and various are the con
jectures, which they form respecting it. Similar
circles are formed, and similar conjectures made, in
a thousand different parts of the world But con
jecture is soon to give place to certainty — awful,
appalling, overwhelming certainty. While they
gaze, the appearance, which had excited their cu
riosity, rapidly approaches, and still more rapidly
brightens. Some begin to suspect what it may
prove ; but no one dares to give utterance to his
suspicions. Meanwhile, the light of the sun begins
to fade before a brightness superior to his own.
Thousands see their shadows cast in a new direc
tion, and thousands of hitherto careless eyes look
up, at once, to discover the cause. Full clearly
they see it ; and now new hopes and fears begin
to agitate their breasts. The afflicted and perse
cuted servants of Christ begin to hope, that the
predicted, long expected day of their deliverance
is arrived. The wicked, the careless, the unbe--
lieving, begin to fear, that the Bible is about to
prove no idle tale. And now fiery shapes, moving ,

COMING OF CHRIST. 459
like streams of lightning, begin to appear indis
tinctly amidst the bright dazzling cloud, which
comes rushing down as on the wings of a whirl
wind. At length it reaches its destined place. It
pauses ; then, suddenly unfolding, discloses at once
a great white throne, where sits, starry resplendent,
in all the glories of the God-head, the man Christ
Jesus. Every eye sees him, every heart knows
him. Too well do the wretched, unprepared in
habitants of earth now know what to expect ; and
one universal shriek of anguish and despair rises
to heaven, and is echoed back to earth. But
louder, far louder than the universal cry, now
sounds the last trumpet ; and, far above all, is
heard the voice of the Omnipotent, summoning the
dead to arise, and come to judgment. New ter
rors now assail the living. On every side, nay
under their very feet, the earth heaves, as in con
vulsions ; graves open, and the dead come forth,
while, at the same moment, a change, equivalent to
that occasioned by death, is effected by Almighty
power on the bodies of the living. Their mortal
bodies put on immortality, and are thus prepared
to sustain a weight of glory, or of wretchedness,
which flesh and blood could not endure. Mean
while, legions of angels are seen, darting from
pole to pole, gathering together the faithful serv
ants of Christ from the four winds of heaven, and
bearing them, aloft to meet the Lord in the air,
where he causes them to be placed at his own
right hand, preparatory to the sentence, which is

460 THE SECOND
to award to them everlasting life. Such, my
brethren, is the scene, which you will one day
witness. And where now are the pomps, the hon
ors, the riches, and pleasures, of this world, which
yesterday appeared so dazzling ? Has not all their
brightness faded, even in your estimation ? Ought
they not to appear, must they not appear, as less
than nothing and vanity to him, who looks for,
who firmly believes, that he shall see such a spec
tacle as this ? Can you wonder, that faith in such
truths, the faith of the christian, should overcome
the world ? Christian, if you would gain more and
greater victories over the world, than you ever
have done, bring this scene often before the eye of
your mind, and gaze upon it, till you become blind
to all earthly glory. He, who gazes long at the
sun, becomes unsusceptible of impression from in
ferior luminaries ; and. he, who looks much at the
Sun of Righteousness, will be little affected by any
alluring object, which the world can exhibit.
3. Shall we all see this great sight? and will it
affect us according to our characters ? Let us
then inquire how it would affect us, should it now
appear ? You cannot but be sensible, that, if you
have lived a careless, irreligious life, if your sins
are not pardoned, if you are conscious, that you
have not faithfully served Christ, his coming would
fill you with guilty apprehension, remorse, and de
spair. You would, you must feel just as a dis
honest or ujnfiuthful servant would feel, when sum
moned into the presence of a long absent master,

COMING OF CHRIST. 461
to whom all his unfaithfulness was known. On
the contrary, if you are the faithful servants of
Christ ; if you are looking and longing for his ap
pearing ; if you have the testimony of your own
consciences, that in simplicity and Godly sincerity,
not with fleshly wisdom, but by the grace of God,
you have had your conversation in the world ;
then you could witness his approach with joy, and
lift up your heads triumphantly, knowing that yoqr
redemption was drawing nigh. O, then, if any of
you are not prepared to meet the Judge in peace,
let it be your great care to become prepared. If •
any of you are prepared for this event, live as be-
cometh those who expect it. Remember, that your
Master's words are, Watch ye therefore, and pray
always, that ye may be accounted worthy to es
cape all these things that shall come to pass, and
to stand before the Son of man.

462 EQUALITY OF MEN
SERMOX XXIV.
EQUALITY OF MEN WITH ANGELS.
LUKE XX. 36.
FOR THEY ARE EQUAL UNTO THE ANGELS.
Eye, says an apostle, hath not seen, nor ear
heard, neither have entered into the heart of man
the things, which God hath prepared for them that
love him. With this assertion the language of
many other inspired passages well corresponds.
They inform us, that the faithful servants of God
shall shine as the stars, and as the brightness of the
firmament, forever and ever ; that they shall shine
forth as the sun, in the kingdom of their Father ;
that, when Christ shall appear, they shall be like
him, and that they shall not only live with him, but
reign with him, through endless ages. To mention
but one passage more — our Saviour informs us,
that those, who are counted worthy to inherit the
future eternal'world, shall be equal to the angels.
If we consider what is elsewhere revealed respect
ing these celestial spirits, and how much is implied
in being equal to them, we shall probably be of
opinion, that this assertion is as well suited to give
us exalted conceptions of the future state of the
righteous, as any passage in the inspired volume.
Nor is it less suited to give us just views of the
worth of the soul, and of the importance of every
thing which is connected with its salvation ; espe
cially of the importance of the ministerial office,

WITH ANGELS. 463
the design of which is to prepare men for that
state. It is however supposed by some expositors,
that the word, here rendered equal, rather signifies
likeness, and that the import of the passage is, they
shall be like the angels. But perhaps this altera
tion would not, if adopted, materially affect the
import of the passage. At least, it will not mate
rially affect the remarks, which I propose to make
upon it. In making these remarks, it will be my
object to shew,
I. That men are capable of being made equal
to the angels ; and,
II. That, in the future world, good men will be
made equal to them.
1 . Men are capable of being made equal to the
angels. This is an assertion, which it may, at first
view, seem needless to prove. Who, it may be
asked, can doubt, that he, who gave angels their
existence and all their powers, can, if he pleases,.
transform men into angels ? But no one will ask
this question, who duly considers the import of the
proposition before us. This proposition relates,
not to God's ability, but to man's capacity. There
cannot be the smallest doubt, that God is able to
transform, not only men, but even insects, into an
gels. But a man, thus transformed, would, it is
obvious, cease to be a man, and become one of a
totally distinct order of beings. But the question
before us, is, whether men can be made equal to
the angels, without ceasing to be men ; whether
they possess faculties, which, if expanded to the

464 EQUALITY OF MEN
utmost extent of which their nature is capable,
would render them equal to the angels. What we
assert is, that men do possess such faculties ; and
this assertion we shall now attempt to prove.
That man is capable of. equalling the angels in
the duration of their existence, may be very easily
shewn. Originally, he was, like them, immortal.
And he would still have possessed immortality, had
he not become a sinner ; for by sin death entered
into the world. But what man once possessed, he
must still be capable of possessing. If he was
originally immortal, he may again become so.
These remarks relate, it is obvious, to the whole
man, considered as composed of body and soul ;
for the soul, separately considered, has never ceas
ed to be immortal. Like the angels, it is of a na
ture purely spiritual ; and though it may, if God
pleases, be annihilated, it cannot, properly speak
ing, die ; for death implies a dissolution of parts ;
but a spirit has no parts, and is therefore incapa
ble of dissolution.
Equally easy is it to shew, that man is capable
of being made equal to the angels in moral excel
lence. The moral excellence of creatures, wheth
er human or angelic, consists in their conformity to
the law of God. In other words, it consists in ho
liness. Every being, who is perfectly holy, pos
sesses the- perfection of moral excellence. But
man is capable of being made perfectly holy, as
holy as an angel. God requires him to be perfect
ly holy ; and he would require of him nothing of'

WITH ANGELS. 465
which his nature is incapable. Originally he was
perfectly holy ; for God made man upright, in his
own image, and this image consisted, as inspira
tion informs us, in righteousness, and true holiness.
Man is then capable of being made equal to the
angels in moral excellence.
Man is also capable of being raised to an intel
lectual equality with the angels, or being made
equal to them in wisdom and knowledge. The
image of God, in which he was created, included
knowledge, as well as righteousness and true holi
ness. And while he retained this image, while he
stood crowned by his Maker's hand with glory and
honor, and invested with the dominion of the
world, in which he dwelt, he was, as inspiration in
forms us, but little lower than the angels. The in
feriority here intended, must, it is acknowledged,
have been an intellectual inferiority ; for we have
already seen, that, with respect to the duration of
his existence, and in moral excellence, man was
originally not even a little lower than the angels.
But this small intellectual inferiority, on the part of
man, may be satisfactorily accounted for, without
supposing that his intellectual faculties are essen
tially inferior to those of angels ; or that his mind
is incapable of expanding to the full dimensions of
angelic intelligence. It may be accounted for by
difference of situation, and of advantages for in
tellectual improvement. Man was placed on the
earth, which is God's footstool. But angels were
placed in heaven, which is his throne, his palace,
59

466 EQUALITY OF MEN
and the peculiar habitation of his holiness and glo
ry. They were thus enabled to approach much
nearer, than could earth-born man, to the great
Father of lights ; and their minds were, in conse
quence, illuminated with far more than a double
portion of that divine, all disclosing radiance, which
diffuses itself around him. While man was com
pelled to drink from the streams, they could repair
at once to the fountain. Nor must it be forgotten,
that man was encumbered with a body, which de
manded daily supplies of food ; while angels, free
from all these encumbrances, and upborne on wings
which never tire, were able to maintain an unin
terrupted and unceasing flight. Who then will
wonder, that man, thus situated, thus encumbered,
should be a little lower than the angels in the in
tellectual scale ? But free him, as he will hereaf
ter be freed, from all the weights and fetters, with
which a gross material body encumbers his immor
tal mind ; place him, as the good will hereafter be
placed, in heaven, fast by the throne of an irradi
ating God ; let him, instead of seeing all things as
through a glass darkly, behold his Creator, face to
face ; and who will undertake to prove, who will
venture to assert, that he will remain even a little
lower than the angels ; that he will not, in wisdom
and intelligence, soar to an equal height with
them ?. Such an assertion, if made, must be en
tirely without support ; for we know, we can con
ceive of no intellectual faculties possessed by an
gels, which are not possessed by man ; we neither

WITH ANGELS. 467
know, nor can conceive of any assignable limits,
either to the advancement of the human mind in
knowledge, or to the possible expansion of its fac
ulties. So far as we know, or can conceive, it is
capable of every thing, of which any created mind
can be capable. If the mind of an infant can ex
pand during the lapse of a few years, to the di
mensions of a Newton's mind, notwithstanding all
the unfavorable circumstances in which it is here
placed, why may it not, during an eternal residence
in heaven, with the omniscient, all wise God for
its teacher, expand so far as to embrace any finite
circle whatever ? Who can place his finger on any
assignable spot, and say, Thus far it can go, and
no farther ? We seem, then, to have sufficient
reason for believing, that man is capable of being
raised to an intellectual equality with the angels.
Little, if any, less reason have we to believe,
that he is capable of being made equal to them in
power. It has been often remarked, that know
ledge is power ; and observation must convince
every one that it is so. Man's advances in know
ledge have ever been accompanied by a propor
tionate increase of power. A knowledge of metals
gave him power to subdue the earth. A know
ledge of astronomy, and of the properties of the
magnet, gave him power to traverse the ocean, and
convert it from a separating barrier, into a con
necting link between distant parts of the world.
Another step in the progress of knowledge gave
birth to the balloon, and thus furnished man with

468

EQUALITY OF MEN

the power to ascend into the air. A multitude of
equally well known facts might be mentioned, to
shew, that human knowledge, and human power,
advance with corresponding and equal pace. But
we have already seen, that man is capable of being
made equal to the angels in knowledge. It should
seem then to follow, that he is capable of being
made their equal in power ; and that, when he shall
know every thing which angels know, he will be
able to do every thing which angels can do.
Again, man is capable of being raised to an e-
quality with the angels in glory, honor, and felicity.
The glory of a creature must consist principally in
the intellectual and moral excellencies, with which
he is endued ; and we have already seen, that, in
these respects, man is capable of being made equal
to the angels. The dignity, and honor of any
creature, must consist in the station which he is
appointed to fill, in the offices which he is employ
ed to sustain, and in the services which he is
commissioned to perform. And since man is ca
pable of being made equal to the angels in wisdom,
and knowledge, and power, he may be rendered
capable of filling any station, which angels ever
filled ; of performing any service, which angels
ever performed; of coming as near the eternal
throne, as angels ever came. Hence too, it follows,
that every source of happiness, which is open to
angels, may be opened to man ; that his capacity
for receiving and containing may be made equal to
theirs, and that his opportunity for enjoying happi-

WITH ANGELS. 469
ness, or, in other words, the duration of his exis
tence, may be, like that of angels, without end.
Having thus attempted to shew that man is
capable of being made equal to the angels in im
mortality, in moral excellence, in intellectual
qualities, and in power, honor, glory, and felicity,
we proceed to shew,
II. That, in the future world, good men shall be
made equal to them in each of these particulars.
The fact, that men are capable of being made
equal to the angels, goes far to prove the truth of
this proposition ; for it is not the manner of the
all wise Creator to endow his creatures with ca
pacities, that are never to be filled ; or with
faculties, that are never to be called into action.
And since he has formed man with a capacity of
being made equal to the angels, it is, to say the
least, highly probable, that the good will hereafter
be raised to this equality. This conclusion the
scriptures abundantly confirm. That good men
will be made equal to the angels in the duration of
their existence, is proved by the numerous passa
ges in which eternal life is promised to the righteous.
Equally full and satisfactory is the proof, which the
scriptures afford, that they shall be made equal to
the angels in moral excellence ; that the process of
sanctification which is already begun in their hearts
shall be carried to completeness and perfection.
The souls of the righteous, which have already-
entered into the eternal world, are called the spir
its of just men made perfect ; and the perfection,

470 EQUALITY OF MEN
to which they have attained, must include per
fection in holiness. We are also assured, that
Jesus Christ will finally present his whole church
to himself, a glorious church, not having spot, or
wrinkle, or any such thing ; but holy, and without
blemish. Little, if any, less satisfactory are the
proofs, with which the scriptures furnish us, that
the righteous shall be made equal to angels in wis
dom and knowledge. > They assure us, that they
shall see God as he is ; that they shall see him face
to face ; that they shall see as they are seen, and
know even as they are known. Language cannot
furnish expressions stronger than these. What
more can be said of angel, or archangel, than that
he knows, even as he is known ?
And if the righteous are to be made equal to
angels in wisdom and knowledge, it will follow,
from remarks which have already been made, that
they must equal them in power. We are informed,
that their bodies, though sown in weakness, will be
raised in p©wer ; and this fact seems to furnish
some reason for believing, that the powers of their
minds will be proportionably increased. From the
appearance of Moses and Elijah on the mount of
transfiguration, it seems evident, that they possess
ed power of various kinds, of which we are desti
tute. They had power to descend from the
mansions of the blessed, and to return, and also, as
it should seem, to render themselves visible, or
invisible, at their pleasure. Indeed it is certain,
that, in some respects at least, the powers of the

WITH ANGELS. 471
righteous must be greatly increased, or they would
be unable to sustain that far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory, and honor, and felicity,
which is reserved for them in the future world.
The scriptures fully warrant the assertion, that, in
each of these particulars, they will be made equal,
if not superior, to the angels. In the vision of
the heavenly world, with which St. John was fa
vored, he saw the representatives of the church
placed immediately before the eternal throne,
while the angels, placed at a greater distance,
formed a circle around them. Should it be con
tended, that we can infer nothing from a vision,
we will waive this passage, and remark, that they
inform us, that Christ's faithful servants shall sit
and reign with him upon his throne, — an honor, in
which it is no where intimated that any of the an
gels shall share. Indeed, the disciples of Christ
are in a peculiar sense his members, and, as such
they will largely share in all the honors, and digni
ties, and glories, of their exalted Head. It is,
doubtless, in virtue of this free, intimate, and pe
culiar relation to him, that they will, as an apostle
assures us, judge the world, and even judge angels.
Speaking of the righteous as vessels of mercy,
whom God is preparing for glory, the same apostle
remarks, that in them God designs to shew forth
the riches of his glory. But has he not, it may be
asked, already done this ? Did he not shew forth
the riches of his glory, when he formed the angels ?
It should seem from the apostle's remark, that he

472 EQUALITY OF MEN
did not. This however he means to do, and men
are the objects which he has chosen for that pur
pose. Yes, in adorning, and honoring, and blessing
redeemed sinners of the human race, Jehovah
means to put forth his strength, to shew what he
can do, what glorious beings he can form, when he
chooses to display all the riches of his glory. Who
then can doubt, that in glory, honor, and felicity,
good men will be made, at least, equal to the
angels. There is a dreadful counterpart to this truth,
which, though not mentioned in our text, must be
briefly noticed. Every argument, which proves
that good men are capable of being made equal to
the holy angels, may justly be considered as prov
ing, with equal clearness, that wicked men ard
capable of equalling the fallen angels, who kept
not their first estate. The same powers, which, if
exerted in one direction, will raise an object high,
will, if exerted in an opposite direction, sink it
proportionality low. And the terribly expressive
language, in which inspiration describes the final
doom of the wicked, — the assertion, that they shall
share the punishment prepared for the devil and
his angels, fully warrants the belief, that, in the fu
ture world, sinners, who die impenitent, will, in
moral depravity, guilt and wretchedness, sink to a
dreadful equality with apostate spirits.
The subject, to which we have led your atten
tion is connected with so many interesting truths,
that it is by no means easy to select those, which

WITH ANGELS. 473
are most deserving of particular notice. Indeed,
every religious truth, and every thing which is
connected with man, assumes, when viewed in the
light of this subject, an aspect of overwhelming
interest and importance. Can any religious truth
be seen, as it is, unless it be viewed in this light ?
How inestimable, for instance, does the worth of
the human soul appear ; how clearly is it seen to
exceed that of the whole world, when we view it
as endued with a capacity of being made equal to
the angels ! How momentous an event occurs,
when such a soul is born into the world ! When
an immortal being commences a flight through
endless duration ; a flight, which will raise him
high to an equality with angels, or plunge him low
among malignant demons and fiends ! Think of
this, ye parents ! ye, to whom is committed the
care of giving to this flight its earliest direction,
and on whom it much depends, under God, what
its termination shall be. How grand, let me far
ther remark, how Godlike, how every way worthy
of himself, does the object of our Saviour's inter
position in behalf of ruined man appear, when
viewed in the light of this subject ! In this light,
how clearly is his gospel seen to be glad tidings.
What moral glory and sublimity surround his cross,
when we contemplate him as voluntarily suspended
there, for the purpose of raising such a creature as
man, from the depravity, degradation, and wretch
edness of apostate spirits, to an equality with the
angels in God's presence ! And how evident does
60

474 EQUALITY OF MEN
it appear, that the reward which raised them to
such a height, must be conferred on them, from
respect rather to their Saviour's merits, than to
their own ? We know, that the holy angels have
served God with perfect love, and zeal, and fideli
ty, for at least five thousand years. But all, which
the best individual of our race has done, is to
serve God, in a very imperfect manner, during part
of a comparatively short life. Some, who have
already entered heaven, spent a large portion of
their lives in sinning against him, became his ser
vants but a short time before death. And can it
be made to appear fit, or proper, or even just, that
men should receive, in return for such scanty and
imperfect services, not only the pardon of their
sins, but a reward equal, or superior to that, which
will be conferred on the angels ? Certainly not, if
the rewards, which the righteous will receive, are
bestowed from regard to their own merits alone.
But when we recollect, what revelation teaches,
that the righteous are the members of Jesus Christ,
and that, as such, he is made unto them righteous
ness ; that they are appointed to share the rewards
which he has merited, all difficulty vanishes. We
perceive, at once, that no reward can equal :lhe
merits of the Son of God, and that it may be per
fectly fit and proper to raise even the most unworthy
of his members, for his sake, to an angel's sea*- in
heaven. But it becomes necessary to waive a further
consideration of this, as well as of many other im-

WITH ANGELS. 475
portant topics connected with our subject, and
proceed to such an application of it as the occasion
demands. To the pastor elect* this subject, viewed in its
connection with the transactions of the day, can
scarcely fail to be deeply interesting. The care of
your own soul, my dear brother, of working out
your own salvation, of preparing yourself for an
angel's seat, has hitherto constituted the principal
part of your duty. This alone is a work so great,
that no man ever yet accomplished it without Al
mighty aid. But you are now to have a still more
difficult task assigned you, to engage in a still
greater and more important work. In addition to
the care of your own soul, the care of many other
souls is to be laid upon you. For each of them
our Divine Master has shed blood of inestimable
price. Each of them is of more value than the
world which it inhabits. Each of them is capable
of being made equal to an angel. Whether they
shall be raised to this equality, will depend, in
a very considerable degree, upon the manner in
which you shall perform the work assigned you.
If it be true, that the minister, who suitably takes
heed to himself, and to his doctrine, shall both save
himself, and them that hear him, it must also be
true, that he, who neglects this duty, will destroy,
not himself only, but his hearers. The thought is
appalling, overwhelming. Indeed, the ministerial
* Preached in Bangor at the ordination of Rev. S. L. Pomroy,.

476 EQUALITY OF MEN
office, if seen in all its effects, and consequences,
and responsibilities, would crush an angel. But if
the work is great, so is the assistance which our
Master offers ; and so is the reward, which he
promises to all who obtain mercy to be faithful.
This reward not a few of our race have secured
already. From this very spot, where you will take
the vows of God upon you, and where you will
stand to fulfil those vows, the soul of your prede
cessor ascended,* as we have reason to hope, to an
angel's seat. From this very spot, a band of those
celestial beings, who minister to the heirs of salva
tion, and convey them home to heaven when Jesus
commands, exultingly bore away the disembodied
spirit to be their companion, and their equal above.
From this place then, my brother, look up, and
contemplate the throne which he now fills, and the
crown which he now wears. Such a throne, such
a crown, awaits every faithful servant of Jesus
Christ. May you, my dear brother, be enabled to
maintain this* character, and secure this reward.
May you be enabled, as successive years roll away,
to take a higher and higher flight toward heaven,
and find your beloved people accompanying you in
your flight ; and may you and they together learn,
in the regions above, all that is implied in being
made equal to the angels.
This church and religious society, while they ac
cept our cordial and thankful congratulation on
* Rev. Harvey Loomis, to whom reference is here made, died sud
denly in his pulpit.

WITH ANGELS. 477
the pleasing prospect before them, and on the
healing of that wound which was so suddenly in
flicted, and so powerfully felt, will permit us to
applaud the concern, which they have manifested,
for the resettlement of the gospel ministry among
them, and for the zeal and unanimity which have
so speedily led to a result so desirable. The con
cern, which you have felt for the attainment of this
object, is, by no means, a causeless or unreasonable
concern. If we have souls which render us ca
pable of being made equal to the angels, and if
these souls are liable to be lost, the care of them
should evidently be the grand business of life ; and
every thing, which tends to promote their salvation,
should be ranked among the most indispensable
necessaries of life. That the stated preaching of
the gospel does tend to promote their salvation,
that, in ordinary cases, they will not be saved with
out it, will be denied by none, who believe the
contents of that volume, which assures us, that
faith cometh by hearing. More necessary, then,
than food, or raiment, or shelter, is the stated
preaching of the gospel of Christ. Allow me,
however, to remind you, that the enjoyment of this
means of grace, though ordinarily necessary to
man's salvation, will by no means secure his salva
tion. Nay more, if it be not properly improved, it
will but accelerate and aggravate his ruin. If it
prove not a savor of life unto life, it must prove a
savor of death unto death. Those, whom it does
not raise to an equality with the angels, it will sink

478 EQUALITY OF MEN
to an abyss proportionably deep. You stand then,
my brethren, midway on an eminence, the summit
of which is wrapped in the dazzling glories of
heaven, while its base lies deep in the regions of
despair, shrouded in the darkness of eternal night.
The great object of your minister, the work for
which God has sent him among you, is, to persuade
you to ascend this eminence. Your own hearts,
and numberless temptations, will, on the other
hand, endeavor to draw you down, and plunge you
in the gulf, which lies at its base. O, then, listen
not to these evil counsellors, but listen to your
pastor, to your consciences, and to your God.
Waiting on him you shall renew your strength,
mount up as on eagles' wings, and at length sit
down with angels in the kingdom of heaven.
Though fearful of wearying the patience of my
auditors, I must beg them to indulge me in address
ing, at greater length than is usual on such occa
sions, an assembly, which I cannot hope ever to
address again. To those of them, who are the
disciples of Jesus Christ, our subject is full, not
only of consolation, but of warning, of reproof, and
of the most powerful motives to zeal and diligence,
and untiring perseverance in performing the duties,
to which their profession calls them. That you
may feel the force of these motives, my brethren,
consider what is the language of your profession,
what you say to the world, when you approach the
table of your Lord, or perform any other act which
indicates that you consider yourselves as the disci-

WITH ANGELS. 479
pies of Jesus Christ. On every such occasion, you
do in effect say, I profess to be one of those, to
whom all the promises of the gospel are made ;
one of those, who are styled children and heirs of
God. As one of this number, I expect soon to be
called to mingle with the angels, and to be made,
in every respect, their equal. When I shall be
exalted to this state, is uncertain. It may be to
morrow. It may be the next hour, for there is but
a step between me and death, and, consequently,
but a step between me and an angel's seat. Such,
O professed disciples of Christ, is the lofty, and, as
it must appear to the world, assuming language of
your profession. And can you utter such language,
will shame allow you to utter it, without attempting
to live in a corresponding manner ! If you do in
deed look for such things, what manner of persons
ought you to be, in all holy conversation and god
liness ! How far ought you to live above the
world ! How dead should you be to all earthly
objects and pursuits ! What spirituality of temper,
what heavenly mindedness, should you feel and ex
hibit ! What can be more obvious, more undenia
ble, than the conclusion, that, if you hope to be
made equal to the angels hereafter, you ought to
imitate, so far as is practicable, angels now. That
you may be induced to imitate them, and to climb
with greater diligence and alacrity the steep ascent
before you, let me persuade you to fix your eyes
upon its summit. A dense impenetrable cloud ap
pears, indeed, to conceal it from mortal eyes ; but

480 EQUALITY OF MEN
inspiration speaks, and the cloud is dissipated ;
faith presents her glass, and the sun-bright sum
mit is seen. On him, who sits enthroned upon it,
you cannot indeed gaze. His glories, though you
shall see them unveiled hereafter, are too insuffer
ably dazzling for mortal eyes to sustain. But
contemplate the resplendent forms, which float
around him in an atmosphere of pure celestial light.
See their bodies, resembling sunbeams seven times
refined. See their countenances beaming with
intelligence, purity, benevolence and felicity.
Through their transparent bodies look in, and con
template the souls which inhabit them, expanded
to the full dimensions of angelic minds, bearing
thfe perfect image of their God, and reflecting
his glories, as the polished mirror reflects the glo
ries of the noon-day sun. This, O Christian, is
what thou shalt hereafter be. These dazzling
forms were once sinful dust and ashes, like thyself.
But grace, free, rich, sovereign, almighty grace,
has made them what they now are. It has washed
and justified, and sanctified, and brought them to
glory. And to the same glory, O Christian, it is
bringing thee. And canst thou then sleep, canst
thou slumber, canst thou be slothful, canst thou
complain of the difficulties which attend, of the
obstacles which oppose, thy ascent to such glory
and felicity as this ? O let gratitude, let duty, let
shame, if nothing else, forbid. Lift up, ye embryo
angels, lift up the heads which hang down, and let
the drooping spirit revive. Read, hear, meditate

With angels. 481
with prayer, deny yourselves, mortify sin but a little
longer, and you shall mount up, not on eagles', but
on angels' wings, and know what is meant by being
made equal to resplendent intelligences.
To impenitent sinners this subject, taken in cort-;
nection with other parts of revelation, is a subject
of most solemn and awful import. They too pos
sess faculties, which render them capable of being
made equal to the angels ; but these faculties will
only serve, if they remain impenitent and unholy,
to sink them down to a dreadful equality with the
fallen angels, the spirits of disobedience, for whom
the fires of hell are prepared, and to whom is re
served the blackness of darkness and eternal
despair. They, indeed, are destined, like the right
eous, to immortality ; but not, if they remain ag
they now are, to a happy immortality. No, the
language of our Judge is, They that have done
good, shall come forth to the resurrection of life,
but they, that have done evil, to the resurrection
of damnation. The wicked shall go away into
everlasting punishment. My careless, irreligious
hearers, think a moment, I beseech you, upon the
terribleness of their fate. O, think how terrible it
will be, to have the vast capacity of your immortal
souls filled, to the very brim, with wretchedness ^
to see, that, when you might have been raised to
an equality with the holy angels, you have sunk
yourselves, by your own folly, to a dreadful equality
with evil spirits, in character, in malignity, misery*
and despair* Yet this must be your fate, unless
61

482 EQUALITY OF MEN
you repent, and work the works of God, by believ
ing on him whom he hath sent. God himself has
said it, who cannot lie, and who will never change.
And are these things so ? Is it true, that, before a
century shall have passed away, all the souls, who
now fill this house, will be angels or demons, and
fixed forever in heaven or hell ? Yes, my hearers,
it is true. It is as certain, as that there is a God ;
as certain, as that we are here. O, then, in what
language can we describe, how can we adequately
conceive of, the folly, the madness, of sinners, of
those who neglect the great salvation. In less than
a century, and, with respect to most of them, in
much less than half that time, the question, which
of'the two opposite states shall be theirs, is to be
decided. Yes, my immortal hearers, in a few years
will be forever decided the question, whether your
vast and almost boundless capacities, shall be filled
with happiness, or with misery ; whether the noble
faculties, which God has given you, shall blossom
and expand hrheaven, or be scorched and wither
ed in hell ; in a word, whether you shall brighten
into angels, or blacken into fiends. And while this
question is in suspense ; a question, which might
convulse the thrones of heaven, and throw the uni
verse into agonies of anxiety, how are you, who are
most nearly concerned in it, employed ? In some
childish, worldly scheme of temporal' aggrandize
ment ; or in laboring to amass wealth, which you
can possess but for an hour, or, perhaps, in a round
of frivolous amusements and dissipation. Yes, —

WITH ANGELS. 483
let earth blush, let heaven weep to hear it, — these,
these, are the employments, in which immortal
beings choose to spend their hours of salvation, to
pass away the time, till the great question is deci
ded. Well may inspiration declare, as it does, that
the heart of the sons of men is full of evil, and that
madness is in their hearts while they live. And
well may we exclaim, in the language of inspira
tion, O, that they were wise, that they understood
their latter end. My dying, yet immortal hearers !
will none of you be wise? Will none of you suffer
me, or rather suffer the guiding Spirit of God, to
take you by« the hand, and lead you to that mount,
on the summit of which an angel's crown, and a
Saviour's throne, awaits all who overcome the dif
ficulties of the ascent ? O, look once more, before
you turn away and renounce them forever, — look
Once more at these inestimable rewards. Look
too at Him, who dispenses them. Hear him offer
ing you the aid of his own wisdom to guide you,
and of his own power to strengthen you, while con
tending for the prize. Hear him repeating all the
gracious melting invitations, which he addresses to
sinners in the volume of his word. Hear him say
ing, Sinner, trust in me, and I will raise thee to an
equality with angels ; but neglect me, and thou
wilt plunge thyself down to a level with despairing
fiends.

484 PUNISHMENT OF THE

SERMON XXV.
THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WICKED DREADFUL
AND INTERMINABLE.
KAKK IX. 44.
WHERE THEIR WORM DIETB NOT, AND THE FIRE IS NOT QUENCHED.
A minister, my hearers, who would be faithful,
must frequently compare his preaching with the
scriptures, and inquire, not only whether he preach
es the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the
truth, but whether he gives to every particular
doctrine and precept just that place in his sermons,
which its importance deserves, or which is given
to it in the word of God. On instituting such an
inquiry, I find, that it is long since I called your
attention, particularly, to the punishment, which
awaits impenitent sinners in a future state. I have,
indeed, frequently alluded to it, and mentioned it
incidentally, as was unavoidable ; but 1 have not,
I believe, for some years, made it the subject of a
discourse. In a word, the doctrine of future pun
ishment has not, of late, filled such a place in my
sermons, as it fills in the Bible, as it fills in the dis-
coures of our great Teacher, Jesus Christ. I,
therefore, feel bound in duty to call your attention
to the subject, painful as it is. Some of you may,
perhaps, say, or at least think, that it will do no
good, I know not, that it will ; for, so far as I can
learn, nothing, that I have said of late, has done

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 485
any good. Tell me what subject wil] do you good,
and I will preach upon it.
But some will, perhaps, go farther, and say, this
doctrine has no tendency to do good ; it is alto
gether idle, to think of frightening men into religion.
— With such remarks I have nothing to do. It is
my duty, not to decide what doctrines are likely to
do good, but to preach such doctrines as I find in
the scriptures ; not to determine what means will
prove effectual, but to use those means which God
has appointed. Of these means this doctrine is
one ; and whether it does good to any of you, or
not, I know that it has done good to thousands ;
that thousands have been moved by fear to fly from
the wrath to come. I know also, that, if you be
lieve it, it will do good to you ; and no truth can be
of service, which is not believed. In fine, I dare
not pretend to be either more wise, or more com
passionate than our Saviour ; and he thought it
consistent both with wisdom and with compassion,
to utter the words of our text. And he evidently
uttered them with a view to alarm his hearers. He
addressed himself to their fears, with a view to pro
duce obedience to his commands. The command,
which he thus enforced, was this ; If thine eye
offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee ;
for, he adds, it is better for thee to enter into life
with but one eye, than, having two eyes, to be cast
into hell, where their worm dieth not, and the fire
is not quenched.
There can, I think, be no doubt, that, in these

486 PUNISHMENT OF THE
expressions, our Saviour alludes to the manner, in
which the Jews disposed of the bodies of the dead.
Sometimes, as is the custom with us, they placed
them in tombs, where they were, of course, con
sumed by worms. At others, they prepared a
funeral pile, on which the body was placed, in or
der to be consumed by fire. After the fire had
been suffered to rage, till nothing remained but
cinders and ashes, they quenched the glowing mass,
and carefully deposited it in an urn. If we suppose
that our Saviour alluded to these customs, his ex
pressions may be thus paraphrased : You have seen
what is done with the body, after death. You have
sometimes seen it consumed by worms, which, after
they had devoured it, died for want of nourishment.
And you have sometimes seen it consumed by a
•fire, which, after a while, was quenched : But there
is another death, which is followed by consequences
far more terrible, which affect not the body
only, but the soul. Those who die this death, shall
be preyed upon by worms, which will never die,
and become the fuel of a fire, that will never be
quenched. They will be forever dying, forever
suffering the pangs of the second death, but will
never die, never cease to exist. It will be as if the
bodies, which you have seen entombed or burnt,
could feel the worms, which devour, or the fires,
which consume them. Such must have been the
import of these expressions, if our Saviour alluded,
as we have every reason to believe he did, to the
funeral ceremonies of the Jews. But whether he

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 487
did, or did not, allude to them, the import of his
language is substantially the same. It is indeed
figurative ; but not, on that account, less full of
meaning, or less terrible. Let us then, with feel
ings similar to those which prompted him to utter
this language, lift the veil of figurative expression,
and contemplate the awful truths, which it partly
discloses, and partly conceals.
I. In dilating upon these truths, I shall say lit
tle of the corporeal sufferings, which await impen
itent sinners beyond the grave. Such sufferings
will certainly compose a part of their punishment ;
for we are assured, that their bodies shall come
forth to the resurrection of damnation ; and our
Saviour's language respecting the rich man, who in
hell lifted up his eyes, being in torments, more than
intimates, that anguish of body was an ingredient
in his wretchedness. Indeed, as the body is the
servant of the soul, and at once its tempter to ma
ny sins, and its instrument in committing them,
there seems to be a manifest propriety, in making
them companions in punishment. We shall only
add, that, as after the resurrection, the bodies of
the wicked will be immortal, they will be capable
of enduring sufferings, which in this world would
cause instant death. But though we know little,
because the scriptures say little, of the nature of
their bodies, or of the miseries which await them,
it is otherwise with respect to the sufferings of the
soul. To these sufferings, the declarations of scrip
ture seem principally to refer ; and these declara-

488 PUNISHMENT OF THE
tions our knowledge of the soul, and of the caus
es, which will hereafter operate to render it miser
able, enable us, in some measure, to understand.
Especially, will it assist us in understanding the
first clause in our text — where their worm dieth
not. This expression evidently intimates, that the
soul will suffer miseries, analogous to those, which
would be inflicted on a living body, by a multitude
of reptiles constantly preying upon it. And it
may be understood to intimate further, that, as a
dead body appears to produce the worms which
consume it, so the soul, dead in trespasses and
sins, really produces the causes of its own misery.
What are those causes ? or, in the language of our
text, what is the gnawing worm, which is to prey
upon the soul hereafter ? I answer,
1. Its own passions and desires. That these are
capable of preying upon the soul, and occasion
ing, even in this life, most acute suffering, those of
you, whose passions are naturally strong, need not
be informed.* And those of you, whose passions
are less violent, whose tempers are comparatively
mild, may be convinced of the same truth, by
seeing the effects of passion upon others. Look,
for instance, at a man who is habitually peevish,
fretful, and discontented. Has he not gnawing
worms already at his heart ? Look at the envious
man, whose cheek turns pale, and who feels a se
cret pang, when he hears a rival commended, or
sees him successful. Is there no gnawing worm
in his bosom ? Look at the covetous man, who

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 489
wears himself out in the pursuit of wealth, and who
is daily harassed by craving desires, cares and
anxieties. Can any worm gnaw worse than these ?
Look at the votary of ambition, whose success de
pends on the fayor of the great, or of the multi
tude ; who pants to rise, but is kept down by a ri
val, or by adverse circumstances ; and whose mind
is full of contrivances, jealousies, and rivalships. Is
there no corroding tooth at work in his breast ?
Look at the proud man, whose blood boils at every
real or fancied neglect ; at the passionate or re
vengeful man, who has always some quarrel upon
his hands ; at the drunkard, whose passions are
inflamed by intoxicating potions, and you will find
fresh proofs of this truth. It is true, indeed, that
none of these passions make men completely
wretched in this world, and the reasons why they
do not, are obvious. In the first place, there are,
in this world, many things, which are calculated to
soothe, or, at least, to, divert men's passions. Some
times they meet with success, and this produces, at
least, a transient calm. At "another time, the ob
jects, which excite their passions, are absent, and
this allows them a little quietness. And there are
so many things to be attended to, that men have
not always leisure to indulge their passions, or at
tend to the uneasiness which they produce. Above
all, they are from their infancy under the operation
of causes, which tend to restrain their passions, and
weaken, or at least confine, their rage. Besides,
every man must sleep, at intervals, and while he
62

490 PUNISHMENT OF THE
sleeps his passions are at rest. But suppose all
these things to be removed, suppose a man to be
deprived of sleep, and chained down with v nothing
to do, but to feel his passions rage continually ;
suppose him to meet with no success, nothing to
soothe his ruffled feelings ; suppose the objects,
which excite his strongest passions, to be constant
ly before him ; and, finally, suppose all outward
and inward restraints to be taken off. Would not
such a man be, even in this life, inconceivably
wretched ? And yet even his wretchedness would
be nothing, compared with that, which the sinner's
passions and desires will occasion him in a future
state. There, his passions, which are now in their
infancy, will start up into giant strength ; there, all
outward and inward restraints will be taken off;
there he will have nothing to divert his attention,
nothing to assist him in forgetting, even for a mo
ment, his tormenting feelings ; there every object,
which he ever desired, will be removed from him
forever, while the desire will remain in equal, in
vastly increased force ; there he will be surrounded
with malicious, cruel, raging companions, who will
continually blow up his passions to the highest
pitch of fury. There, not even the respite, which
sleep now affords, will be found. Nor is this all.
Nothing inflames the passions of men more than
suffering. Even men, who are at other times good
tempered, often become impatient, discontented,
and even angry, when harassed by severe pain,
long sickness, or repeated disappointments. Howr

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 491
terribly, then, will the passions of sinners be enra
ged by the exquisite, hopeless sufferings of a future
state ! How will they curse themselves, and all
around them, and as the scriptures declare, blas
pheme God because of their plagues. Against him,
and against all good beings, they will feel the most
furious, implacable hostility ; for they will be en
tirely under the dominion of that carnal mind, which
is enmity against Jehovah.
In addition, the scriptures teach us, that they will
see, though afar off, and with an impassable gulf
between them, the happiness of the righteous ; and
this sight will occasion envy, compared with which,
all the envious feelings ever entertained on earth
are nothing. Every sinner too will find in the re
gions of despair some, whom his arguments, his
solicitations, or at least his example, helped to
bring there ; and they will overwhelm him, and
enrage his passions, with the bitterest reproaches.
Nor will sinners there retain the least shadow of
those natural affections, or amiable dispositions,
which some of them possess here ; for our Saviour
declares, that from him, that hath not, shall be
taken away even that which he seemeth to have.
Now consider all these things, and say, who can
describe, or conceive of, the misery which sinners
will suffer from their own gnawing passions, or of
the blasphemies, the execrations, the wild uproar,
the raging madness, which will be witnessed, when
all the wicked, from all ages and parts of the world,

492 PUNISHMENT OF THE
are imprisoned together in the blackness of dark
ness, like ravenous lions in their dens. To this
God refers, when he says of sinners, They have
sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind ;
that is, they have indulged sinful passions in this
life, and those passions, blown up, as from a wind
to a whirlwind, shall be their future companions
and tormentors.
2. The gnawing worm, of which our Saviour
speaks, includes the consciences of sinners. The
sufferings inflicted by conscience will be even more
painful, than those which are occasioned by the
sinner's passions ; for terrible as are the gnawings
of passion, those of conscience are still more so.
Her scourge draws blood at every stroke. Even
in this world she has drawn many, as she did Judas,
to despair, madness, and suicide. But her loudest
rebukes, her keenest reproaches here, are mere
whispers, compared with the thundering voice, in
which she will speak hereafter. Here she speaks
only at intervale. There she will speak without
intermission. Here the sinner has various ways of
stifling her reproaches, or diverting his attention
from them. He may rush into scenes of business
or amusement ; he may silence her with sophistical
arguments and excuses, or with promises of future
amendment ; and, when all other means fail, he
may drown her for a season in the intoxicating
bowl, as too many, alas, madly do. But there, he
will have no means of silencing, or escaping from
her reproaches, for a moment. Here she knows

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 493
comparatively little of God, of duty, or of sin ; and
therefore, often suffers the sinner to escape, when
she ought to scourge him. But there she will see
every thing in the clear light of eternity, and in
consequence, instead of a whip of small cords, will
chastise the sinner as with a scourge of scorpions.
There the sinner will clearly see what a God he has
offended, what a Saviour he has neglected, what a
heaven he has lost, and into what a hell he has plun
ged himself. All the sins which he has committed,
with all their aggravations and consequences ; all the
sabbaths he enjoyed, the sermons which he heard,
the warnings and invitations which he slighted, the
opportunities which he misimproved, the serious
impressions which he banished, will be set in order
before him, and overwhelm him with mountains of
conscious guilt. And O, the keen unutterable
pangs of remorse, the bitter self reproaches, the
unavailing regrets, the fruitless wishes, that he had
pursued a different course, which will be thus ex
cited in his breast ! The word remorse, is derived
from a Latin word, which signifies, to gnaw again,
or to gnaw repeatedly ; and surely, no term can
more properly describe the sufferings, which are
inflicted by an accusing conscience. Well then
may such a conscience, when its now sleeping
energies shall be wakened by the light of eter
nity, be compared to a gnawing worm. The hea
then made use of a similar figure to describe it.
They represented a wicked man as chained to a
rock in hell, where an immortal vulture constantly

494 PUNISHMENT OF THE
preyed upon his vitals, which grew again as fast as
they were devoured. Nor is this representation at
all too strong. Even in this world, where con
science is comparatively weak, I have often seen
the bed, and the whole chamber of the sick man,
shake under the almost convulsive agonies, which
her lash inflicted. I have been told by persons,
suffering under most painful diseases, that their
bodily sufferings were nothing to the anguish of
mind which they endured. I have seen a man of
robust constitution, vigorous health, strong mind,
and liberal education, tremble, like an aspen leaf,
and scarcely able to sustain himself, under the
pressure of conscious guilt, and pungent remorse.
A man in similar circumstances has been known to
rise in winter, at midnight, and run for miles, with
naked feet over the rough and frozen ground, in
order that the bodily pain, thus occasioned, might,
if possible, divert his attention, for a time, from the
far more intolerable anguish of his mind. And
a dying infidel* has been known to exclaim, Surely
' there is a God, for nothing less than omnipotence
could inflict the pangs which I now feel ! What
then must be the pangs inflicted by a gnawing
conscience in eternity ?
II. Our Saviour speaks not only of a gnawing
worm, but of an unquenchable fire. What refer
ence this may have to the corporeal sufferings of
the wicked, I shall not pretend to decide ; but it
appears evident, from other passages, that, so far
as the soul is concerned, it refers to a keen and

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 495
constant sense of God's presence and righteous dis
pleasure. He says of himself, I am a consuming
fire ; and, a fire is kindled in mine anger, which
shall burn even to the lowest hell. These expres
sions evidently intimate, that a view of his perfec
tion, and constant presence, combined with a sense
of his displeasure, will affect the soul, as fire does
the body, withering its strength, and drying up its
spirits. Some of you have formerly known a little
of this ; and you know, or, at least, will easily con
ceive, that no fire can torture the body more keen
ly, than a sense of God's displeasure does the soul.
But to those of you, who know nothing of this
experimentally, it will be more difficult to convey
any clear apprehension of this subject. The fol
lowing supposition may perhaps assist in doing it.
Suppose, that, when Washington was the com
mander of our armies, you had been a soldier under l
him, and had been detected in a plot to betray
your country. Suppose yourself to be brought
before him, surrounded by the whole army, and
compelled by some means to fix your eyes steadily,
several hours, on his, encountering, during the
whole time, his stern, indignant, and withering
glances. Would you not soon have found your
situation intolerably painful ? Would not his glance
seem to thrill through your soul, and almost scorch
it like fire, or blast it like lightning ? What then
must it be to see yourselves surrounded by a just
and holy God, to meet his heart-searching, heart-
withering eye, wherever you turn, fixed full upon

496 PUNISHMENT OF THE
you ; to see the Author of your being, the Sover
eign of the universe, the great, the glorious, the
majestic, the omnipotent, the infinite Jehovah, re
garding you with severe displeasure ; to see his
anger burning against you like fire ! O, this will
be indeed a fire to the soul ! a fire, which will be
felt in all its faculties, and fill them to the brim
with anguish, — anguish, as much greater than any
which could be occasioned by material fire, as the
Creator is superior to his creatures. It is then, O,
it is a fearful thing, to fall into the hands of the
living God, that God, who is a consuming fire to
the workers of iniquity !
III. We learn from the passage before us, that
these sufferings will be endless. Their worm dieth
not, and the fire is not quenched. And three times
successively, our Saviour declares, in the context,
that the fire shall never be quenched. In the orig
inal language of the New Testament, the language
which our Saviour used, there are no expres
sions which more fully and unequivocally signify
eternity, or endless duration, than those which are
here employed. In another passage, the very same
expressions are applied to the punishment of the
wicked, which are used to describe the duration of
God's existence. He liveth, we are told, forever
and ever ; and we are assured, that the wicked shall
be tormented forever and ever. If any further
proof of this truth is wanting, it may be found in
the nature of the punishment itself. We have seen,
that the gnawing worm, of which our Saviour

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 497
speaks, is the passions and consciences of sinners.
Now these belong to the soul ; they are as it were
a part of it, they are some of its essential faculties.
Of course, they must live as long as the soul lives ;
and as the soul is immortal, they must be immortal.
We have also seen, that the fire, which will scorch
the souls of the wicked, is a sense of God's pres
ence and anger. Now as he lives forever, and is
unchangeably the same, he must forever be dis
pleased with sinners, and be constantly present with
them. In other words, the fire of his anger must
burn forever. It is a fire, which cannot be quench
ed, unless God should change or cease to exist. It
is this, which constitutes the most terrible ingredi
ent of that cup, which impenitent sinners must
drink. Dreadful as will be their sufferings, they
would be comparatively light, were there any hope
of their termination. But of this there will be no
hope. Every thing will conspire to force upon the
sinner's mind, a full conviction, that his existence
and his sufferings must continue forever ; that they
will be without mitigation and without end. And
this conviction will above all things, wither his cour
age, and his strength. It will banish all thought of
summoning up patience and fortitude to endure his
wretchedness, and cause him to sink down under it
in the faintness of despair. My hearers, if any of
you think I exaggerate, or color too highly, listen
to the plain, unadulterated language of God him
self. The wicked shall be turned into hell, even
all that forget God. They that know not God and
63

498 PUNISHMENT OF THE
obey not the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ shall
be punished with everlasting destruction from the
presence of the Lord, and from the glory of his
power. In the hand of Jehovah is a cup, and the
wine is red, and he poureth out of the same. But
the dregs thereof, all the wicked of the earth shall
wring them out, and drink them. They shall drink
of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured
out without mixture into the cup of his indignation ;
and shall be tormented with fire, in the presence of
the holy angels, and in the presence of the Lamb ;
and the smoke of their torment ascendeth up for
ever and ever. Will any one, on hearing these
passages, reply, My feelings revolt at such state
ments. 1 will not, cannot believe them ? Then
you must reject the Bible ; for it is full of such
statements, and every fact, every doctrine, confirms
them. The incarnation of the Son of God, the
tears which he shed for sinners, the blood which he
poured out for sinners, the joy which angels feel
when one sinner repents, and the unutterable anxi
ety which inspired men felt for the conversion of
sinners, — all conspire to prove, that the fate of
those, who die without repentance, without conver
sion, must be inconceivably dreadful. Will you then
say, such a' punishment cannot be just ? It is im
possible that I should deserve it ? But remember,
that you know nothing of your sins, or of what sin
deserves. Were you properly acquainted with your
own sinfulness, you would feel convinced, that it is
just. All true penitents feel and acknowledge,

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 499
that it would have been perfectly just to inflict this
punishment upon them. Were not you impenitent,
you would feel the same. Besides, this punishment,
dreadful as it is, is nothing more than the natural,
necessary consequence of persisting in sin. The
corroding passions, the remorse of conscience, and
the displeasure of God, which will constitute the
misery of sinners, are all the result of sin. Every
sinner has the seeds of hell already sown in his
breast. The sparks, which are to kindle the flames
of hell, are already glowing within him. Christ
now offers to extinguish these sparks. He shed
his blood to quench them. He offers to pour out
his Spirit, as water, to quench them. But sinners
will not accept his offer. They rather fan the
sparks, and add fuel to the fire. How then can
they justly complain, when the fire shall break out
into an unquenchable conflagration, and burn for
ever ! As well might a man, who should put vipers
into his bosom, complain of God, because they
stung him. As well might a man, who has kindled
a fire and thrown himself into it, complain of God,
because the flames scorched him. But I can spend
no more time in answering objections, or in de
fending the justice of God, against the complaints
of his creatures. I cannot stand here coolly arguing
and reasoning, while I see the pit of destruction, as
it were, open before me, and more than half my
hearers apparently rushing into it. I feel impelled
rather to fly, and throw myself before you in the fatal
path, to grasp your hands, to cling to your feet, to

500 PUNISHMENT OF THE
make even convulsive efforts to arrest your pro
gress, and pluck you as brands out of the burning.
My careless hearers, my people, my flock ! death,
perdition, the never dying worm, the unquenchable
fire, are before you ! Your path leads directly into
them. Will you not then hear your friend, your
shepherd ? Will you not stop, and listen at least
for a moment ? Will you, O, will you refuse to be
lieve that there is a hell, till you find yourselves in
the midst of it ? O, be convinced, I conjure you,
be convinced by some less fatal proof than this.
Yet how can I convince you ? How can I stop you ?
My arm is powerless ; yet I cannot let you go. I
could shed tears of blood over you, would it avail.
Gladly, most gladly, would I die here on the spot,
without leaving this sacred desk, could my death
be the means of turning you from this fatal course.
But what folly is this ! to talk of laying down my
worthless life to save you. Why, my friends, the
Son of God died to save you,— -died in agonies, —
died on the cross ; and surely, that doom cannot
but be terrible, to open a way of escape from
which he did all this. And it is dreadful. The
abyss, into which you are falling, is as deep, as the
heaven, from which he descended, is high. And
will you then rush into it, while he stands ready to
save you ? Shall he, as it respects you, die in vain?
Will you receive the grace of God in vain ? Shall
those eyes, which now see the light of the sabbath,
glare and wither in eternal burning? Shall those
souls, which might be filled with the happiness of

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 501
heaven, writhe and agonize forever, under the
gnawings of the immortal worm ? Shall I, must I
hereafter see some who are dear to me, for whom
I have labored and prayed and wept, weltering in
the billows of despair, and learning, by experience,
how far the description comes short of the terrible
reality! But 1 cannot proceed. The thought un
mans me. I can only point to the cross of Christ,
and say, There is salvation, there is blood, which,
if applied, will quench the fires, that are already
kindling in your breasts. There is deliverance
from the wrath which is to come.
I cannot, must not, however, conclude, without
addressing a word, my professing friends, to you.
And I hope you will bear with me, if, in view of
such a subject as this, I address you with apparent
severity. An apostle teaches ministers, that they
must sometimes rebuke professing Christians sharp
ly ; but I trust my sharpness will be the sharpness
of love ; and I know that I shall say nothing to you,
half so severe as the reproaches, which I have di
rected against myself, while preparing this dis
course. We all deserve perdition, a thousand times,
for our stupid insensibility to the situation of those,
who are perishing around us. We profess to be
lieve the word of God ; but can you all prove that
you believe it ? Do you all act, as if you believed
it ? What, believe that many of your acquaintances,
your children, are in danger of the fate, which has
now been described ! Dare you go to God, and say,
Lord, I believe thy word, I believe that all thy

502 PUNISHMENT OF THE
threatenings will be fulfilled, and then turn away,
and coolly pursue your worldly business, without
uttering one agonizing cry for those, who are ex
posed to these threatenings ? Dare you go and
claim relationship to Christ, and profess to have
his Spirit, without which you are none of his, and
then make no effort, or only a few faint efforts, to
save those, for whom he shed not tears only, but
blood ? O, if you can do this, where are the bowels,
I will not say of a Christian, but of a man ? Go, I
may say to such, go, inconsistent, cruel, hard
hearted professors ; go, slumber over the ruin of
immortal souls ; wrap yourself up in your selfish
temporal interests, and say, I have no time to spare
for rescuing others from everlasting burnings. Go,
wear out your life in acquiring property for your
children, and leave their souls to perish in the fire
that never shall be quenched. Go, adorn their
bodies, and banish from them, if possible, the
seeds of disease ; but leave in their bosoms that
immortal worm, which will gnaw them forever.
And when God asks, where is thy child? thy
brother ? thy friend ? reply, with impious Cain, I
know not, I care not ; am I his keeper ?
But I cannot proceed farther in this strain. I
would rather beseech, and melt, and win you by
tenderness. Say, then, Christian, dost thou believe
that Christ died to save thee from the misery,
which has been imperfectly described ? Dost thou
believe, that, if he had not loved thee, and given
himself for thee, the gnawing worm and the un-

WICKED INTERMINABLE. 503
quenchable fire would have been thy portion for
ever ? O then, where is thy gratitude, thy love ?
Where are the returns, which he has a right to
expect ? Hast thou already made him a sufficient
return for such inestimable benefits ? Has he not
reason to say, at least to some of you, Did 1 die
for thee ; redeem thee from sin, and death, and
hell, that thou mightest crucify me afresh, by thy
unkindness and unbelief? Did I watch and pray,
whole nights, that thou mightest neglect watchful
ness and prayer ? Did I purchase for thee divine
grace, precious promises, and strong consolation,
that thou mightest make light of them, or turn
them into wantonness ? And do 1 prolong thy for
feited life, that thou mayest live carelessly, un-
profitably, or like the world around thee ? No, 1
redeemed thee, that thou mightest be mine, wholly
mine. I purchased for thee grace, that thou
mightest grow. And I preserve thy life, that thou
mayest live, not to thyself, but to him who died for
thee. 1 have revealed the knowledge of thy
Maker, and taught thee the way of redemption,
that thou mightest adorn the doctrine of God thy
Saviour in all things. And wilt thou frustrate
these purposes by thy sloth and negligence ? Thou
wilt do it, then, to thine own eternal injury ; for
the fearful and the unbelieving shall have their
part, with the abominable, in the lake, which
burneth with fire, that never shall be quenched.

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