{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_3150/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_3150","id":"gutenberg_3150","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3150","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Christianity","Church of England -- Sermons","Ethics","Sermons, English"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1887 Cassell & Co. edition by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\n\n\n\n\n\nHUMAN NATURE\nAND\nOTHER SERMONS\n\n\nBY\nJOSEPH BUTLER\nBISHOP OF DURHAM.\n\nCASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED:\n_LONDON_, _PARIS_, _NEW YORK & MELBOURNE_.\n1887\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nJoseph Butler was born in 1692, youngest of eight children of a\nlinendraper at Wantage, in Berkshire.  His father was a Presbyterian, and\nafter education at the Wantage Free Grammar School Joseph Butler was sent\nto be educated for the Presbyterian ministry in a training academy at\nGloucester, which was afterwards removed to Tewkesbury.  There he had a\nfriend and comrade, Secker, who afterwards became Archbishop of\nCanterbury.  Butler and Secker inquired actively, and there was\nforeshadowing of his future in the fact that in 1713, at the age of\ntwenty-one, Butler was engaged in anonymous discussion with Samuel Clarke\nupon his book on the _a priori_ demonstration of the Divine Existence and\nAttributes.\n\nWhen the time drew near for call to the ministry, Butler, like his friend\nSecker, had reasoned himself into accordance with the teaching of the\nChurch of England.  Butler's father did not oppose his strong desire to\nenter the Church, and he was entered in 1714 at Oriel College, Oxford.  At\ncollege a strong friendship was established between Butler and a fellow-\nstudent, Edward Talbot, whose father was a Bishop, formerly of Oxford and\nSalisbury, then of Durham.  Through Talbot's influence Butler obtained in\n1718 the office of Preacher in the Rolls Chapel, which he held for the\nnext eight years.  In 1722 Talbot died, and on his death-bed urged his\nfather on behalf of his friend Butler.  The Bishop accordingly presented\nJoseph Butler to the living of Houghton-le-Spring.  But it was found that\ncosts of dilapidations were beyond his means at Houghton, and Butler had\na dangerous regard for building works.  He was preferred two years\nafterwards to the living of Stanhope, which then became vacant, and which\nyielded a substantial income.  Butler sought nothing for himself, his\nsimplicity of character, real worth, and rare intellectual power, secured\nhim friends, and the love of two of them--Talbot first, and afterwards\nSecker, who made his own way in the Church, and became strong enough to\nput his friend as well as himself in the way of worldly advancement,\nsecured for Butler all the patronage he had, until the Queen also became\nhis active friend.\n\nJoseph Butler was seven years at Stanhope, quietly devoted to his parish\nduties, preaching, studying, and writing his \"Analogy of Religion,\nNatural and Revealed, to the Constitution and Course of Nature.\"  In\n1727, while still at Stanhope, he was appointed to a stall in Durham\nCathedral.  Secker, having become chaplain to the Queen, encouraged her\nin admiration of Butler's sermons.  He told her that the author was not\ndead, but buried, and secured her active interest in his behalf.  From\nTalbot, who had become Lord Chancellor, Secker had no difficulty in\nobtaining for Butler a chaplaincy which exempted him from the necessity\nof residence at Stanhope.  Butler, in accepting it, stipulated for\npermission to live and work in his parish for six months in every year.\nNext he was made chaplain to the King, and Rector of St. James's, upon\nwhich he gave up Stanhope.  In 1736 Queen Caroline appointed him her\nClerk of the Closet, an office which gave Butler the duty of attendance\nupon her for two hours every evening.  In that year he published his\n\"Analogy,\" of which the purpose was to meet, on its own ground, the\nscepticism of his day.  The Queen died in 1737, and, in accordance with\nthe strong desire expressed in her last days, in 1738 Butler was made a\nBishop.  But his Bishopric was Bristol, worth only 300 or 400 pounds a\nyear.  The King added the Deanery of St. Paul's, when that became vacant\nin 1740, and in 1750, towards the close of his life, Joseph Butler was\ntranslated to the Bishopric of Durham.  He died in 1752.\n\nNo man could be less self-seeking.  He owed his rise in the Church wholly\nto the intellectual power and substantial worth of character that\ninspired strong friendship.  Seeing how little he sought worldly\nadvancement for himself, while others were pressing and scrambling,\nButler's friends used their opportunities of winning for him the\nadvancement he deserved.  He was happiest in doing his work, of which a\nchief part was in his study, where he employed his philosophic mind in\nstrengthening the foundations of religious faith.  Faith in God was\nattacked by men who claimed especially to be philosophers, and they were\nbest met by the man who had, beyond all other divines of his day--some\nmight not be afraid to add, of any day--the philosophic mind.\n\nH. M.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON I.  UPON HUMAN NATURE.\n\n\n   ROMANS xii. 4, 5.\n\n   _For as we have many members in one body_, _and all members have not\n   the same office_: _so we_, _being many_, _are one body in Christ_,\n   _and every one members one of another_.\n\nThe Epistles in the New Testament have all of them a particular reference\nto the condition and usages of the Christian world at the time they were\nwritten.  Therefore as they cannot be thoroughly understood unless that\ncondition and those usages are known and attended to, so, further, though\nthey be known, yet if they be discontinued or changed, exhortations,\nprecepts, and illustrations of things, which refer to such circumstances\nnow ceased or altered, cannot at this time be urged in that manner and\nwith that force which they were to the primitive Christians.  Thus the\ntext now before us, in its first intent and design, relates to the decent\nmanagement of those extraordinary gifts which were then in the Church,\n{1} but which are now totally ceased.  And even as to the allusion that\n\"we are one body in Christ,\" though what the apostle here intends is\nequally true of Christians in all circumstances, and the consideration of\nit is plainly still an additional motive, over and above moral\nconsiderations, to the discharge of the several duties and offices of a\nChristian, yet it is manifest this allusion must have appeared with much\ngreater force to those who, by the many difficulties they went through\nfor the sake of their religion, were led to keep always in view the\nrelation they stood in to their Saviour, who had undergone the same: to\nthose, who, from the idolatries of all around them, and their\nill-treatment, were taught to consider themselves as not of the world in\nwhich they lived, but as a distinct society of themselves; with laws and\nends, and principles of life and action, quite contrary to those which\nthe world professed themselves at that time influenced by.  Hence the\nrelation of a Christian was by them considered as nearer than that of\naffinity and blood; and they almost literally esteemed themselves as\nmembers one of another.\n\nIt cannot, indeed, possibly be denied, that our being God's creatures,\nand virtue being the natural law we are born under, and the whole\nconstitution of man being plainly adapted to it, are prior obligations to\npiety and virtue than the consideration that God sent his Son into the\nworld to save it, and the motives which arise from the peculiar relation\nof Christians as members one of another under Christ our head.  However,\nthough all this be allowed, as it expressly is by the inspired writers,\nyet it is manifest that Christians at the time of the Revelation, and\nimmediately after, could not but insist mostly upon considerations of\nthis latter kind.\n\nThese observations show the original particular reference to the text,\nand the peculiar force with which the thing intended by the allusion in\nit must have been felt by the primitive Christian world.  They likewise\nafford a reason for treating it at this time in a more general way.\n\nThe relation which the several parts or members of the natural body have\nto each other and to the whole body is here compared to the relation\nwhich each particular person in society has to other particular persons\nand to the whole society; and the latter is intended to be illustrated by\nthe former.  And if there be a likeness between these two relations, the\nconsequence is obvious: that the latter shows us we were intended to do\ngood to others, as the former shows us that the several members of the\nnatural body were intended to be instruments of good to each other and to\nthe whole body.  But as there is scarce any ground for a comparison\nbetween society and the mere material body, this without the mind being a\ndead unactive thing, much less can the comparison be carried to any\nlength.  And since the apostle speaks of the several members as having\ndistinct offices, which implies the mind, it cannot be thought an\nallowable liberty, instead of the _body_ and _its members_, to substitute\nthe _whole nature_ of _man_, and _all the variety of internal principles\nwhich belong to it_.  And then the comparison will be between the nature\nof man as respecting self, and tending to private good, his own\npreservation and happiness; and the nature of man as having respect to\nsociety, and tending to promote public good, the happiness of that\nsociety.  These ends do indeed perfectly coincide; and to aim at public\nand private good are so far from being inconsistent that they mutually\npromote each other: yet in the following discourse they must be\nconsidered as entirely distinct; otherwise the nature of man as tending\nto one, or as tending to the other, cannot be compared.  There can no\ncomparison be made, without considering the things compared as distinct\nand different.\n\nFrom this review and comparison of the nature of man as respecting self\nand as respecting society, it will plainly appear that _there are as real\nand the same kind of indications in human nature_, _that we were made for\nsociety and to do good to our fellow-creatures_, _as that we were\nintended to take care of our own life and health and private good_: _and\nthat the same objections lie against one of these assertions as against\nthe other_.  For,\n\nFirst, there is a natural principle of _benevolence_ {2} in man, which is\nin some degree to _society_ what _self-love_ is to the _individual_.  And\nif there be in mankind any disposition to friendship; if there be any\nsuch thing as compassion--for compassion is momentary love--if there be\nany such thing as the paternal or filial affections; if there be any\naffection in human nature, the object and end of which is the good of\nanother, this is itself benevolence, or the love of another.  Be it ever\nso short, be it in ever so low a degree, or ever so unhappily confined,\nit proves the assertion, and points out what we were designed for, as\nreally as though it were in a higher degree and more extensive.  I must,\nhowever, remind you that though benevolence and self-love are different,\nthough the former tends most directly to public good, and the latter to\nprivate, yet they are so perfectly coincident that the greatest\nsatisfactions to ourselves depend upon our having benevolence in a due\ndegree; and that self-love is one chief security of our right behaviour\ntowards society.  It may be added that their mutual coinciding, so that\nwe can scarce promote one without the other, is equally a proof that we\nwere made for both.\n\nSecondly, this will further appear, from observing that the _several\npassions_ and _affections_, which are distinct {3} both from benevolence\nand self-love, do in general contribute and lead us to _public good_ as\nreally as to _private_.  It might be thought too minute and particular,\nand would carry us too great a length, to distinguish between and compare\ntogether the several passions or appetites distinct from benevolence,\nwhose primary use and intention is the security and good of society, and\nthe passions distinct from self-love, whose primary intention and design\nis the security and good of the individual. {4}  It is enough to the\npresent argument that desire of esteem from others, contempt and esteem\nof them, love of society as distinct from affection to the good of it,\nindignation against successful vice--that these are public affections or\npassions, have an immediate respect to others, naturally lead us to\nregulate our behaviour in such a manner as will be of service to our\nfellow-creatures.  If any or all of these may be considered likewise as\nprivate affections, as tending to private good, this does not hinder them\nfrom being public affections too, or destroy the good influence of them\nupon society, and their tendency to public good.  It may be added that as\npersons without any conviction from reason of the desirableness of life\nwould yet of course preserve it merely from the appetite of hunger, so,\nby acting merely from regard (suppose) to reputation, without any\nconsideration of the good of others, men often contribute to public good.\nIn both these instances they are plainly instruments in the hands of\nanother, in the hands of Providence, to carry on ends--the preservation\nof the individual and good of society--which they themselves have not in\ntheir view or intention.  The sum is, men have various appetites,\npassions, and particular affections, quite distinct both from self-love\nand from benevolence: all of these have a tendency to promote both public\nand private good, and may be considered as respecting others and\nourselves equally and in common; but some of them seem most immediately\nto respect others, or tend to public good; others of them most\nimmediately to respect self, or tend to private good: as the former are\nnot benevolence, so the latter are not self-love: neither sort are\ninstances of our love either to ourselves or others, but only instances\nof our Maker's care and love both of the individual and the species, and\nproofs that He intended we should be instruments of good to each other,\nas well as that we should be so to ourselves.\n\nThirdly, there is a principle of reflection in men, by which they\ndistinguish between, approve and disapprove their own actions.  We are\nplainly constituted such sort of creatures as to reflect upon our own\nnature.  The mind can take a view of what passes within itself, its\npropensions, aversions, passions, affections as respecting such objects,\nand in such degrees; and of the several actions consequent thereupon.  In\nthis survey it approves of one, disapproves of another, and towards a\nthird is affected in neither of these ways, but is quite indifferent.\nThis principle in man, by which he approves or disapproves his heart,\ntemper, and actions, is conscience; for this is the strict sense of the\nword, though sometimes it is used so as to take in more.  And that this\nfaculty tends to restrain men from doing mischief to each other, and\nleads them to do good, is too manifest to need being insisted upon.  Thus\na parent has the affection of love to his children: this leads him to\ntake care of, to educate, to make due provision for them--the natural\naffection leads to this: but the reflection that it is his proper\nbusiness, what belongs to him, that it is right and commendable so to\ndo--this, added to the affection, becomes a much more settled principle,\nand carries him on through more labour and difficulties for the sake of\nhis children than he would undergo from that affection alone, if he\nthought it, and the cause of action it led to, either indifferent or\ncriminal.  This indeed is impossible, to do that which is good and not to\napprove of it; for which reason they are frequently not considered as\ndistinct, though they really are: for men often approve of the action of\nothers which they will not imitate, and likewise do that which they\napprove not.  It cannot possibly be denied that there is this principle\nof reflection or conscience in human nature.  Suppose a man to relieve an\ninnocent person in great distress; suppose the same man afterwards, in\nthe fury of anger, to do the greatest mischief to a person who had given\nno just cause of offence.  To aggravate the injury, add the circumstances\nof former friendship and obligation from the injured person; let the man\nwho is supposed to have done these two different actions coolly reflect\nupon them afterwards, without regard to their consequences to himself: to\nassert that any common man would be affected in the same way towards\nthese different actions, that he would make no distinction between them,\nbut approve or disapprove them equally, is too glaring a falsity to need\nbeing confuted.  There is therefore this principle of reflection or\nconscience in mankind.  It is needless to compare the respect it has to\nprivate good with the respect it has to public; since it plainly tends as\nmuch to the latter as to the former, and is commonly thought to tend\nchiefly to the latter.  This faculty is now mentioned merely as another\npart in the inward frame of man, pointing out to us in some degree what\nwe are intended for, and as what will naturally and of course have some\ninfluence.  The particular place assigned to it by nature, what authority\nit has, and how great influence it ought to have, shall be hereafter\nconsidered.\n\nFrom this comparison of benevolence and self-love, of our public and\nprivate affections, of the courses of life they lead to, and of the\nprinciple of reflection or conscience as respecting each of them, it is\nas manifest that _we were made for society_, _and to promote the\nhappiness of it_, _as that we were intended to take care of our own life\nand health and private good_.\n\nAnd from this whole review must be given a different draught of human\nnature from what we are often presented with.  Mankind are by nature so\nclosely united, there is such a correspondence between the inward\nsensations of one man and those of another, that disgrace is as much\navoided as bodily pain, and to be the object of esteem and love as much\ndesired as any external goods; and in many particular cases persons are\ncarried on to do good to others, as the end their affection tends to and\nrests in; and manifest that they find real satisfaction and enjoyment in\nthis course of behaviour.  There is such a natural principle of\nattraction in man towards man that having trod the same tract of land,\nhaving breathed in the same climate, barely having been born in the same\nartificial district or division, becomes the occasion of contracting\nacquaintances and familiarities many years after; for anything may serve\nthe purpose.  Thus relations merely nominal are sought and invented, not\nby governors, but by the lowest of the people, which are found sufficient\nto hold mankind together in little fraternities and copartnerships: weak\nties indeed, and what may afford fund enough for ridicule, if they are\nabsurdly considered as the real principles of that union: but they are in\ntruth merely the occasions, as anything may be of anything, upon which\nour nature carries us on according to its own previous bent and bias;\nwhich occasions therefore would be nothing at all were there not this\nprior disposition and bias of nature.  Men are so much one body that in a\npeculiar manner they feel for each other shame, sudden danger,\nresentment, honour, prosperity, distress; one or another, or all of\nthese, from the social nature in general, from benevolence, upon the\noccasion of natural relation, acquaintance, protection, dependence; each\nof these being distinct cements of society.  And therefore to have no\nrestraint from, no regard to, others in our behaviour, is the speculative\nabsurdity of considering ourselves as single and independent, as having\nnothing in our nature which has respect to our fellow-creatures, reduced\nto action and practice.  And this is the same absurdity as to suppose a\nhand, or any part, to have no natural respect to any other, or to the\nwhole body.\n\nBut, allowing all this, it may be asked, \"Has not man dispositions and\nprinciples within which lead him to do evil to others, as well as to do\ngood?  Whence come the many miseries else which men are the authors and\ninstruments of to each other?\"  These questions, so far as they relate to\nthe foregoing discourse, may be answered by asking, Has not man also\ndispositions and principles within which lead him to do evil to himself,\nas well as good?  Whence come the many miseries else--sickness, pain, and\ndeath--which men are instruments and authors of to themselves?\n\nIt may be thought more easy to answer one of these questions than the\nother, but the answer to both is really the same: that mankind have\nungoverned passions which they will gratify at any rate, as well to the\ninjury of others as in contradiction to known private interest: but that\nas there is no such thing as self-hatred, so neither is there any such\nthing as ill-will in one man towards another, emulation and resentment\nbeing away; whereas there is plainly benevolence or good-will: there is\nno such thing as love of injustice, oppression, treachery, ingratitude,\nbut only eager desires after such and such external goods; which,\naccording to a very ancient observation, the most abandoned would choose\nto obtain by innocent means, if they were as easy and as effectual to\ntheir end: that even emulation and resentment, by any one who will\nconsider what these passions really are in nature, {5} will be found\nnothing to the purpose of this objection; and that the principles and\npassions in the mind of man, which are distinct both from self-love and\nbenevolence, primarily and most directly lead to right behaviour with\nregard to others as well as himself, and only secondarily and\naccidentally to what is evil.  Thus, though men, to avoid the shame of\none villainy, are sometimes guilty of a greater, yet it is easy to see\nthat the original tendency of shame is to prevent the doing of shameful\nactions; and its leading men to conceal such actions when done is only in\nconsequence of their being done; _i.e._, of the passion's not having\nanswered its first end.\n\nIf it be said that there are persons in the world who are in great\nmeasure without the natural affections towards their fellow-creatures,\nthere are likewise instances of persons without the common natural\naffections to themselves.  But the nature of man is not to be judged of\nby either of these, but by what appears in the common world, in the bulk\nof mankind.\n\nI am afraid it would be thought very strange, if to confirm the truth of\nthis account of human nature, and make out the justness of the foregoing\ncomparison, it should be added that from what appears, men in fact as\nmuch and as often contradict that _part_ of their nature which respects\n_self_, and which leads them to their _own private_ good and happiness,\nas they contradict that _part_ of it which respects _society_, and tends\nto _public_ good: that there are as few persons who attain the greatest\nsatisfaction and enjoyment which they might attain in the present world,\nas who do the greatest good to others which they might do; nay, that\nthere are as few who can be said really and in earnest to aim at one as\nat the other.  Take a survey of mankind: the world in general, the good\nand bad, almost without exception, equally are agreed that were religion\nout of the case, the happiness of the present life would consist in a\nmanner wholly in riches, honours, sensual gratifications; insomuch that\none scarce hears a reflection made upon prudence, life, conduct, but upon\nthis supposition.  Yet, on the contrary, that persons in the greatest\naffluence of fortune are no happier than such as have only a competency;\nthat the cares and disappointments of ambition for the most part far\nexceed the satisfactions of it; as also the miserable intervals of\nintemperance and excess, and the many untimely deaths occasioned by a\ndissolute course of life: these things are all seen, acknowledged, by\nevery one acknowledged; but are thought no objections against, though\nthey expressly contradict, this universal principle--that the happiness\nof the present life consists in one or other of them.  Whence is all this\nabsurdity and contradiction?  Is not the middle way obvious?  Can\nanything be more manifest than that the happiness of life consists in\nthese possessed and enjoyed only to a certain degree; that to pursue them\nbeyond this degree is always attended with more inconvenience than\nadvantage to a man's self, and often with extreme misery and unhappiness?\nWhence, then, I say, is all this absurdity and contradiction?  Is it\nreally the result of consideration in mankind, how they may become most\neasy to themselves, most free from care, and enjoy the chief happiness\nattainable in this world?  Or is it not manifestly owing either to this,\nthat they have not cool and reasonable concern enough for themselves to\nconsider wherein their chief happiness in the present life consists; or\nelse, if they do consider it, that they will not act conformably to what\nis the result of that consideration--_i.e._, reasonable concern for\nthemselves, or cool self-love, is prevailed over by passions and\nappetite?  So that from what appears there is no ground to assert that\nthose principles in the nature of man, which most directly lead to\npromote the good of our fellow-creatures, are more generally or in a\ngreater degree violated than those which most directly lead us to promote\nour own private good and happiness.\n\nThe sum of the whole is plainly this: The nature of man considered in his\nsingle capacity, and with respect only to the present world, is adapted\nand leads him to attain the greatest happiness he can for himself in the\npresent world.  The nature of man considered in his public or social\ncapacity leads him to right behaviour in society, to that course of life\nwhich we call virtue.  Men follow or obey their nature in both these\ncapacities and respects to a certain degree, but not entirely: their\nactions do not come up to the whole of what their nature leads them to in\neither of these capacities or respects: and they often violate their\nnature in both; _i.e._, as they neglect the duties they owe to their\nfellow-creatures, to which their nature leads them, and are injurious, to\nwhich their nature is abhorrent, so there is a manifest negligence in men\nof their real happiness or interest in the present world, when that\ninterest is inconsistent with a present gratification; for the sake of\nwhich they negligently, nay, even knowingly, are the authors and\ninstruments of their own misery and ruin.  Thus they are as often unjust\nto themselves as to others, and for the most part are equally so to both\nby the same actions.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON II., III.  UPON HUMAN NATURE.\n\n\n   ROMANS ii. 14.\n\n   _For when the Gentiles_, _which have not the law_, _do by nature the\n   things contained in the law_, _these_, _having not the law_, _are a\n   law unto themselves_.\n\nAs speculative truth admits of different kinds of proof, so likewise\nmoral obligations may be shown by different methods.  If the real nature\nof any creature leads him and is adapted to such and such purposes only,\nor more than to any other, this is a reason to believe the Author of that\nnature intended it for those purposes.  Thus there is no doubt the eye\nwas intended for us to see with.  And the more complex any constitution\nis, and the greater variety of parts there are which thus tend to some\none end, the stronger is the proof that such end was designed.  However,\nwhen the inward frame of man is considered as any guide in morals, the\nutmost caution must be used that none make peculiarities in their own\ntemper, or anything which is the effect of particular customs, though\nobservable in several, the standard of what is common to the species; and\nabove all, that the highest principle be not forgot or excluded, that to\nwhich belongs the adjustment and correction of all other inward movements\nand affections; which principle will of course have some influence, but\nwhich being in nature supreme, as shall now be shown, ought to preside\nover and govern all the rest.  The difficulty of rightly observing the\ntwo former cautions; the appearance there is of some small diversity\namongst mankind with respect to this faculty, with respect to their\nnatural sense of moral good and evil; and the attention necessary to\nsurvey with any exactness what passes within, have occasioned that it is\nnot so much agreed what is the standard of the internal nature of man as\nof his external form.  Neither is this last exactly settled.  Yet we\nunderstand one another when we speak of the shape of a human body: so\nlikewise we do when we speak of the heart and inward principles, how far\nsoever the standard is from being exact or precisely fixed.  There is\ntherefore ground for an attempt of showing men to themselves, of showing\nthem what course of life and behaviour their real nature points out and\nwould lead them to.  Now obligations of virtue shown, and motives to the\npractice of it enforced, from a review of the nature of man, are to be\nconsidered as an appeal to each particular person's heart and natural\nconscience: as the external senses are appealed to for the proof of\nthings cognisable by them.  Since, then, our inward feelings, and the\nperceptions we receive from our external senses, are equally real, to\nargue from the former to life and conduct is as little liable to\nexception as to argue from the latter to absolute speculative truth.  A\nman can as little doubt whether his eyes were given him to see with as he\ncan doubt of the truth of the science of _optics_, deduced from ocular\nexperiments.  And allowing the inward feeling, shame, a man can as little\ndoubt whether it was given him to prevent his doing shameful actions as\nhe can doubt whether his eyes were given him to guide his steps.  And as\nto these inward feelings themselves, that they are real, that man has in\nhis nature passions and affections, can no more be questioned than that\nhe has external senses.  Neither can the former be wholly mistaken,\nthough to a certain degree liable to greater mistakes than the latter.\n\nThere can be no doubt but that several propensions or instincts, several\nprinciples in the heart of man, carry him to society, and to contribute\nto the happiness of it, in a sense and a manner in which no inward\nprinciple leads him to evil.  These principles, propensions, or instincts\nwhich lead him to do good are approved of by a certain faculty within,\nquite distinct from these propensions themselves.  All this hath been\nfully made out in the foregoing discourse.\n\nBut it may be said, \"What is all this, though true, to the purpose of\nvirtue and religion? these require, not only that we do good to others\nwhen we are led this way, by benevolence or reflection happening to be\nstronger than other principles, passions, or appetites, but likewise that\nthe _whole_ character be formed upon thought and reflection; that _every_\naction be directed by some determinate rule, some other rule than the\nstrength and prevalency of any principle or passion.  What sign is there\nin our nature (for the inquiry is only about what is to be collected from\nthence) that this was intended by its Author?  Or how does so various and\nfickle a temper as that of man appear adapted thereto?  It may indeed be\nabsurd and unnatural for men to act without any reflection; nay, without\nregard to that particular kind of reflection which you call conscience,\nbecause this does belong to our nature.  For as there never was a man but\nwho approved one place, prospect, building, before another, so it does\nnot appear that there ever was a man who would not have approved an\naction of humanity rather than of cruelty; interest and passion being\nquite out of the case.  But interest and passion do come in, and are\noften too strong for and prevail over reflection and conscience.  Now as\nbrutes have various instincts, by which they are carried on to the end\nthe Author of their nature intended them for, is not man in the same\ncondition--with this difference only, that to his instincts (_i.e._,\nappetites and passion) is added the principle of reflection or\nconscience?  And as brutes act agreeably to their nature, in following\nthat principle or particular instinct which for the present is strongest\nin them, does not man likewise act agreeably to his nature, or obey the\nlaw of his creation, by following that principle, be it passion or\nconscience, which for the present happens to be strongest in him?  Thus\ndifferent men are by their particular nature hurried on to pursue honour\nor riches or pleasure; there are also persons whose temper leads them in\nan uncommon degree to kindness, compassion, doing good to their fellow-\ncreatures, as there are others who are given to suspend their judgment,\nto weigh and consider things, and to act upon thought and reflection.  Let\nevery one, then, quietly follow his nature, as passion, reflection,\nappetite, the several parts of it, happen to be strongest; but let not\nthe man of virtue take upon him to blame the ambitious, the covetous, the\ndissolute, since these equally with him obey and follow their nature.\nThus, as in some cases we follow our nature in doing the works _contained\nin the law_, so in other cases we follow nature in doing contrary.\"\n\nNow all this licentious talk entirely goes upon a supposition that men\nfollow their nature in the same sense, in violating the known rules of\njustice and honesty for the sake of a present gratification, as they do\nin following those rules when they have no temptation to the contrary.\nAnd if this were true, that could not be so which St. Paul asserts, that\nmen are _by nature a law to themselves_.  If by following nature were\nmeant only acting as we please, it would indeed be ridiculous to speak of\nnature as any guide in morals; nay, the very mention of deviating from\nnature would be absurd; and the mention of following it, when spoken by\nway of distinction, would absolutely have no meaning.  For did ever any\none act otherwise than as he pleased?  And yet the ancients speak of\ndeviating from nature as vice, and of following nature so much as a\ndistinction, that according to them the perfection of virtue consists\ntherein.  So that language itself should teach people another sense to\nthe words _following nature_ than barely acting as we please.  Let it,\nhowever, be observed that though the words _human nature_ are to be\nexplained, yet the real question of this discourse is not concerning the\nmeaning of words, any other than as the explanation of them may be\nneedful to make out and explain the assertion, that _every man is\nnaturally a law to himself_, that _every one may find within himself the\nrule of right_, _and obligations to follow it_.  This St. Paul affirms in\nthe words of the text, and this the foregoing objection really denies by\nseeming to allow it.  And the objection will be fully answered, and the\ntext before us explained, by observing that _nature_ is considered in\ndifferent views, and the word used in different senses; and by showing in\nwhat view it is considered, and in what sense the word is used, when\nintended to express and signify that which is the guide of life, that by\nwhich men are a law to themselves.  I say, the explanation of the term\nwill be sufficient, because from thence it will appear that in some\nsenses of the word _nature_ cannot be, but that in another sense it\nmanifestly is, a law to us.\n\nI.  By nature is often meant no more than some principle in man, without\nregard either to the kind or degree of it.  Thus the passion of anger,\nand the affection of parents to their children, would be called equally\n_natural_.  And as the same person hath often contrary principles, which\nat the same time draw contrary ways, he may by the same action both\nfollow and contradict his nature in this sense of the word; he may follow\none passion and contradict another.\n\nII.  _Nature_ is frequently spoken of as consisting in those passions\nwhich are strongest, and most influence the actions; which being vicious\nones, mankind is in this sense naturally vicious, or vicious by nature.\nThus St. Paul says of the Gentiles, _who were dead in trespasses and\nsins_, _and walked according to the spirit of disobedience_, _that they\nwere by nature the children of wrath_. {6}  They could be no otherwise\n_children of wrath_ by nature than they were vicious by nature.\n\nHere, then, are two different senses of the word _nature_, in neither of\nwhich men can at all be said to be a law to themselves.  They are\nmentioned only to be excluded, to prevent their being confounded, as the\nlatter is in the objection, with another sense of it, which is now to be\ninquired after and explained.\n\nIII.  The apostle asserts that the Gentiles _do by NATURE the things\ncontained in the law_.  Nature is indeed here put by way of distinction\nfrom revelation, but yet it is not a mere negative.  He intends to\nexpress more than that by which they _did not_, that by which they _did_,\nthe works of the law; namely, by _nature_.  It is plain the meaning of\nthe word is not the same in this passage as in the former, where it is\nspoken of as evil; for in this latter it is spoken of as good--as that by\nwhich they acted, or might have acted, virtuously.  What that is in man\nby which he is _naturally a law to himself_ is explained in the following\nwords: _Which show the work of the law written in their hearts_, _their\nconsciences also bearing witness_, _and their thoughts the meanwhile\naccusing or else excusing one another_.  If there be a distinction to be\nmade between the _works written in their hearts_, and the _witness of\nconscience_, by the former must be meant the natural disposition to\nkindness and compassion to do what is of good report, to which this\napostle often refers: that part of the nature of man, treated of in the\nforegoing discourse, which with very little reflection and of course\nleads him to society, and by means of which he naturally acts a just and\ngood part in it, unless other passions or interest lead him astray.  Yet\nsince other passions, and regards to private interest, which lead us\n(though indirectly, yet they lead us) astray, are themselves in a degree\nequally natural, and often most prevalent, and since we have no method of\nseeing the particular degrees in which one or the other is placed in us\nby nature, it is plain the former, considered merely as natural, good and\nright as they are, can no more be a law to us than the latter.  But there\nis a superior principle of reflection or conscience in every man, which\ndistinguishes between the internal principles of his heart, as well as\nhis external actions; which passes judgement upon himself and them,\npronounces determinately some actions to be in themselves just, right,\ngood, others to be in themselves evil, wrong, unjust: which, without\nbeing consulted, without being advised with, magisterially exerts itself,\nand approves or condemns him the doer of them accordingly: and which, if\nnot forcibly stopped, naturally and always of course goes on to\nanticipate a higher and more effectual sentence, which shall hereafter\nsecond and affirm its own.  But this part of the office of conscience is\nbeyond my present design explicitly to consider.  It is by this faculty,\nnatural to man, that he is a moral agent, that he is a law to himself,\nbut this faculty, I say, not to be considered merely as a principle in\nhis heart, which is to have some influence as well as others, but\nconsidered as a faculty in kind and in nature supreme over all others,\nand which bears its own authority of being so.\n\nThis _prerogative_, this _natural supremacy_, of the faculty which\nsurveys, approves, or disapproves the several affections of our mind and\nactions of our lives, being that by which men _are a law to themselves_,\ntheir conformity or disobedience to which law of our nature renders their\nactions, in the highest and most proper sense, natural or unnatural, it\nis fit it be further explained to you; and I hope it will be so, if you\nwill attend to the following reflections.\n\nMan may act according to that principle or inclination which for the\npresent happens to be strongest, and yet act in a way disproportionate\nto, and violate his real proper nature.  Suppose a brute creature by any\nbait to be allured into a snare, by which he is destroyed.  He plainly\nfollowed the bent of his nature, leading him to gratify his appetite:\nthere is an entire correspondence between his whole nature and such an\naction: such action therefore is natural.  But suppose a man, foreseeing\nthe same danger of certain ruin, should rush into it for the sake of a\npresent gratification; he in this instance would follow his strongest\ndesire, as did the brute creature; but there would be as manifest a\ndisproportion between the nature of a man and such an action as between\nthe meanest work of art and the skill of the greatest master in that art;\nwhich disproportion arises, not from considering the action singly in\n_itself_, or in its _consequences_, but from _comparison_ of it with the\nnature of the agent.  And since such an action is utterly\ndisproportionate to the nature of man, it is in the strictest and most\nproper sense unnatural; this word expressing that disproportion.\nTherefore, instead of the words _disproportionate to his nature_, the\nword _unnatural_ may now be put; this being more familiar to us: but let\nit be observed that it stands for the same thing precisely.\n\nNow what is it which renders such a rash action unnatural?  Is it that he\nwent against the principle of reasonable and cool self-love, considered\n_merely_ as a part of his nature?  No; for if he had acted the contrary\nway, he would equally have gone against a principle, or part of his\nnature--namely, passion or appetite.  But to deny a present appetite,\nfrom foresight that the gratification of it would end in immediate ruin\nor extreme misery, is by no means an unnatural action: whereas to\ncontradict or go against cool self-love for the sake of such\ngratification is so in the instance before us.  Such an action then being\nunnatural, and its being so not arising from a man's going against a\nprinciple or desire barely, nor in going against that principle or desire\nwhich happens for the present to be strongest, it necessarily follows\nthat there must be some other difference or distinction to be made\nbetween these two principles, passion and cool self-love, than what I\nhave yet taken notice of.  And this difference, not being a difference in\nstrength or degree, I call a difference in _nature_ and in _kind_.  And\nsince, in the instance still before us, if passion prevails over self-\nlove the consequent action is unnatural, but if self-love prevails over\npassion the action is natural, it is manifest that self-love is in human\nnature a superior principle to passion.  This may be contradicted without\nviolating that nature; but the former cannot.  So that, if we will act\nconformably to the economy of man's nature, reasonable self-love must\ngovern.  Thus, without particular consideration of conscience, we may\nhave a clear conception of the _superior nature_ of one inward principle\nto another, and see that there really is this natural superiority, quite\ndistinct from degrees of strength and prevalency.\n\nLet us now take a view of the nature of man, as consisting partly of\nvarious appetites, passions, affections, and partly of the principle of\nreflection or conscience, leaving quite out all consideration of the\ndifferent degrees of strength in which either of them prevails, and it\nwill further appear that there is this natural superiority of one inward\nprinciple to another, and that it is even part of the idea of reflection\nor conscience.\n\nPassion or appetite implies a direct simple tendency towards such and\nsuch objects, without distinction of the means by which they are to be\nobtained.  Consequently it will often happen there will be a desire of\nparticular objects, in cases where they cannot be obtained without\nmanifest injury to others.  Reflection or conscience comes in, need\ndisapproves the pursuit of them in these circumstances; but the desire\nremains.  Which is to be obeyed, appetite or reflection?  Cannot this\nquestion be answered, from the economy and constitution of human nature\nmerely, without saying which is strongest?  Or need this at all come into\nconsideration?  Would not the question be _intelligibly_ and fully\nanswered by saying that the principle of reflection or conscience being\ncompared with the various appetites, passions, and affections in men, the\nformer is manifestly superior and chief, without regard to strength?  And\nhow often soever the latter happens to prevail, it is mere _usurpation_:\nthe former remains in nature and in kind its superior; and every instance\nof such prevalence of the latter is an instance of breaking in upon and\nviolation of the constitution of man.\n\nAll this is no more than the distinction, which everybody is acquainted\nwith, between _mere power_ and _authority_: only instead of being\nintended to express the difference between what is possible and what is\nlawful in civil government, here it has been shown applicable to the\nseveral principles in the mind of man.  Thus that principle by which we\nsurvey, and either approve or disapprove our own heart, temper, and\nactions, is not only to be considered as what is in its turn to have some\ninfluence--which may be said of every passion, of the lowest\nappetites--but likewise as being superior, as from its very nature\nmanifestly claiming superiority over all others, insomuch that you cannot\nform a notion of this faculty, conscience, without taking in judgment,\ndirection, superintendency.  This is a constituent part of the idea--that\nis, of the faculty itself; and to preside and govern, from the very\neconomy and constitution of man, belongs to it.  Had it strength, as it\nhad right; had it power, as it had manifest authority, it would\nabsolutely govern the world.\n\nThis gives us a further view of the nature of man; shows us what course\nof life we were made for: not only that our real nature leads us to be\ninfluenced in some degree by reflection and conscience, but likewise in\nwhat degree we are to be influenced by it, if we will fall in with, and\nact agreeably to, the constitution of our nature: that this faculty was\nplaced within to be our proper governor, to direct and regulate all under\nprinciples, passions, and motives of action.  This is its right and\noffice: thus sacred is its authority.  And how often soever men violate\nand rebelliously refuse to submit to it, for supposed interest which they\ncannot otherwise obtain, or for the sake of passion which they cannot\notherwise gratify--this makes no alteration as to the _natural right_ and\n_office_ of conscience.\n\nLet us now turn this whole matter another way, and suppose there was no\nsuch thing at all as this natural supremacy of conscience--that there was\nno distinction to be made between one inward principle and another, but\nonly that of strength--and see what would be the consequence.\n\nConsider, then, what is the latitude and compass of the actions of man\nwith regard to himself, his fellow-creatures, and the Supreme Being?  What\nare their bounds, besides that of our natural power?  With respect to the\ntwo first, they are plainly no other than these: no man seeks misery, as\nsuch, for himself; and no one unprovoked does mischief to another for its\nown sake.  For in every degree within these bounds, mankind knowingly,\nfrom passion or wantonness, bring ruin and misery upon themselves and\nothers.  And impiety and profaneness--I mean what every one would call so\nwho believes the being of God--have absolutely no bounds at all.  Men\nblaspheme the Author of nature, formally and in words renounce their\nallegiance to their Creator.  Put an instance, then, with respect to any\none of these three.  Though we should suppose profane swearing, and in\ngeneral that kind of impiety now mentioned, to mean nothing, yet it\nimplies wanton disregard and irreverence towards an infinite Being our\nCreator; and is this as suitable to the nature of man as reverence and\ndutiful submission of heart towards that Almighty Being?  Or suppose a\nman guilty of parricide, with all the circumstances of cruelty which such\nan action can admit of.  This action is done in consequence of its\nprinciple being for the present strongest; and if there be no difference\nbetween inward principles, but only that of strength, the strength being\ngiven you have the whole nature of the man given, so far as it relates to\nthis matter.  The action plainly corresponds to the principle, the\nprinciple being in that degree of strength it was: it therefore\ncorresponds to the whole nature of the man.  Upon comparing the action\nand the whole nature, there arises no disproportion, there appears no\nunsuitableness, between them.  Thus the _murder of a father_ and the\n_nature of man_ correspond to each other, as the same nature and an act\nof filial duty.  If there be no difference between inward principles, but\nonly that of strength, we can make no distinction between these two\nactions, considered as the actions of such a creature; but in our coolest\nhours must approve or disapprove them equally: than which nothing can be\nreduced to a greater absurdity.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON III.\n\n\nThe natural supremacy of reflection or conscience being thus established,\nwe may from it form a distinct notion of what is meant by _human nature_\nwhen virtue is said to consist in following it, and vice in deviating\nfrom it.\n\nAs the idea of a civil constitution implies in it united strength,\nvarious subordinations under one direction--that of the supreme\nauthority--the different strength of each particular member of the\nsociety not coming into the idea--whereas, if you leave out the\nsubordination, the union, and the one direction, you destroy and lose\nit--so reason, several appetites, passions, and affections, prevailing in\ndifferent degrees of strength, is not _that_ idea or notion of _human\nnature_; but _that nature_ consists in these several principles\nconsidered as having a natural respect to each other, in the several\npassions being naturally subordinate to the one superior principle of\nreflection or conscience.  Every bias, instinct, propension within, is a\nnatural part of our nature, but not the whole: add to these the superior\nfaculty whose office it is to adjust, manage, and preside over them, and\ntake in this its natural superiority, and you complete the idea of human\nnature.  And as in civil government the constitution is broken in upon\nand violated by power and strength prevailing over authority; so the\nconstitution of man is broken in upon and violated by the lower faculties\nor principles within prevailing over that which is in its nature supreme\nover them all.  Thus, when it is said by ancient writers that tortures\nand death are not so contrary to human nature as injustice, by this, to\nbe sure, is not meant that the aversion to the former in mankind is less\nstrong and prevalent than their aversion to the latter, but that the\nformer is only contrary to our nature considered in a partial view, and\nwhich takes in only the lowest part of it, that which we have in common\nwith the brutes; whereas the latter is contrary to our nature, considered\nin a higher sense, as a system and constitution contrary to the whole\neconomy of man. {7}\n\nAnd from all these things put together, nothing can be more evident than\nthat, exclusive of revelation, man cannot be considered as a creature\nleft by his Maker to act at random, and live at large up to the extent of\nhis natural power, as passion, humour, wilfulness, happen to carry him,\nwhich is the condition brute creatures are in; but that _from his make_,\n_constitution_, _or nature_, _he is in the strictest and most proper\nsense a law to himself_.  He hath the rule of right within: what is\nwanting is only that he honestly attend to it.\n\nThe inquiries which have been made by men of leisure after some general\nrule, the conformity to or disagreement from which should denominate our\nactions good or evil, are in many respects of great service.  Yet let any\nplain, honest man, before he engages in any course of action, ask\nhimself, Is this I am going about right, or is it wrong?  Is it good, or\nis it evil?  I do not in the least doubt but that this question would be\nanswered agreeably to truth and virtue, by almost any fair man in almost\nany circumstance.  Neither do there appear any cases which look like\nexceptions to this, but those of superstition, and of partiality to\nourselves.  Superstition may perhaps be somewhat of an exception; but\npartiality to ourselves is not, this being itself dishonesty.  For a man\nto judge that to be the equitable, the moderate, the right part for him\nto act, which he would see to be hard, unjust, oppressive in another,\nthis is plain vice, and can proceed only from great unfairness of mind.\n\nBut allowing that mankind hath the rule of right within himself, yet it\nmay be asked, \"What obligations are we under to attend to and follow it?\"\nI answer: It has been proved that man by his nature is a law to himself,\nwithout the particular distinct consideration of the positive sanctions\nof that law: the rewards and punishments which we feel, and those which\nfrom the light of reason we have ground to believe, are annexed to it.\nThe question, then, carries its own answer along within it.  Your\nobligation to obey this law is its being the law of your nature.  That\nyour conscience approves of and attests to such a course of action is\nitself alone an obligation.  Conscience does not only offer itself to\nshow us the way we should walk in, but it likewise carries its own\nauthority with it, that it is our natural guide; the guide assigned us by\nthe Author of our nature: it therefore belongs to our condition of being;\nit is our duty to walk in that path, and follow this guide, without\nlooking about to see whether we may not possibly forsake them with\nimpunity.\n\nHowever, let us hear what is to be said against obeying this law of our\nnature.  And the sum is no more than this: \"Why should we be concerned\nabout anything out of and beyond ourselves?  If we do find within\nourselves regards to others, and restraints of we know not how many\ndifferent kinds, yet these being embarrassments, and hindering us from\ngoing the nearest way to our own good, why should we not endeavour to\nsuppress and get over them?\"\n\nThus people go on with words, which when applied to human nature, and the\ncondition in which it is placed in this world, have really no meaning.\nFor does not all this kind of talk go upon supposition, that our\nhappiness in this world consists in somewhat quite distinct from regard\nto others, and that it is the privilege of vice to be without restraint\nor confinement?  Whereas, on the contrary, the enjoyments--in a manner\nall the common enjoyments of life, even the pleasures of vice--depend\nupon these regards of one kind or another to our fellow-creatures.  Throw\noff all regards to others, and we should be quite indifferent to infamy\nand to honour; there could be no such thing at all as ambition; and\nscarce any such thing as covetousness; for we should likewise be equally\nindifferent to the disgrace of poverty, the several neglects and kinds of\ncontempt which accompany this state, and to the reputation of riches, the\nregard and respect they usually procure.  Neither is restraint by any\nmeans peculiar to one course of life; but our very nature, exclusive of\nconscience and our condition, lays us under an absolute necessity of it.\nWe cannot gain any end whatever without being confined to the proper\nmeans, which is often the most painful and uneasy confinement.  And in\nnumberless instances a present appetite cannot be gratified without such\napparent and immediate ruin and misery that the most dissolute man in the\nworld chooses to forego the pleasure rather than endure the pain.\n\nIs the meaning, then, to indulge those regards to our fellow-creatures,\nand submit to those restraints which upon the whole are attended with\nmore satisfaction than uneasiness, and get over only those which bring\nmore uneasiness and inconvenience than satisfaction?  \"Doubtless this was\nour meaning.\"  You have changed sides then.  Keep to this; be consistent\nwith yourselves, and you and the men of virtue are _in general_ perfectly\nagreed.  But let us take care and avoid mistakes.  Let it not be taken\nfor granted that the temper of envy, rage, resentment, yields greater\ndelight than meekness, forgiveness, compassion, and good-will; especially\nwhen it is acknowledged that rage, envy, resentment, are in themselves\nmere misery; and that satisfaction arising from the indulgence of them is\nlittle more than relief from that misery; whereas the temper of\ncompassion and benevolence is itself delightful; and the indulgence of\nit, by doing good, affords new positive delight and enjoyment.  Let it\nnot be taken for granted that the satisfaction arising from the\nreputation of riches and power, however obtained, and from the respect\npaid to them, is greater than the satisfaction arising from the\nreputation of justice, honesty, charity, and the esteem which is\nuniversally acknowledged to be their due.  And if it be doubtful which of\nthese satisfactions is the greatest, as there are persons who think\nneither of them very considerable, yet there can be no doubt concerning\nambition and covetousness, virtue and a good mind, considered in\nthemselves, and as leading to different courses of life; there can, I\nsay, be no doubt, which temper and which course is attended with most\npeace and tranquillity of mind, which with most perplexity, vexation, and\ninconvenience.  And both the virtues and vices which have been now\nmentioned, do in a manner equally imply in them regards of one kind or\nanother to our fellow-creatures.  And with respect to restraint and\nconfinement, whoever will consider the restraints from fear and shame,\nthe dissimulation, mean arts of concealment, servile compliances, one or\nother of which belong to almost every course of vice, will soon be\nconvinced that the man of virtue is by no means upon a disadvantage in\nthis respect.  How many instances are there in which men feel and own and\ncry aloud under the chains of vice with which they are enthralled, and\nwhich yet they will not shake off!  How many instances, in which persons\nmanifestly go through more pains and self-denial to gratify a vicious\npassion, than would have been necessary to the conquest of it!  To this\nis to be added, that when virtue is become habitual, when the temper of\nit is acquired, what was before confinement ceases to be so by becoming\nchoice and delight.  Whatever restraint and guard upon ourselves may be\nneedful to unlearn any unnatural distortion or odd gesture, yet in all\npropriety of speech, natural behaviour must be the most easy and\nunrestrained.  It is manifest that, in the common course of life, there\nis seldom any inconsistency between our duty and what is _called_\ninterest: it is much seldomer that there is an inconsistency between duty\nand what is really our present interest; meaning by interest, happiness\nand satisfaction.  Self-love, then, though confined to the interest of\nthe present world, does in general perfectly coincide with virtue, and\nleads us to one and the same course of life.  But, whatever exceptions\nthere are to this, which are much fewer than they are commonly thought,\nall shall be set right at the final distribution of things.  It is a\nmanifest absurdity to suppose evil prevailing finally over good, under\nthe conduct and administration of a perfect mined.\n\nThe whole argument, which I have been now insisting upon, may be thus\nsummed up, and given you in one view.  The nature of man is adapted to\nsome course of action or other.  Upon comparing some actions with this\nnature, they appear suitable and correspondent to it: from comparison of\nother actions with the same nature, there arises to our view some\nunsuitableness or disproportion.  The correspondence of actions to the\nnature of the agent renders them natural; their disproportion to it,\nunnatural.  That an action is correspondent to the nature of the agent\ndoes not arise from its being agreeable to the principle which happens to\nbe the strongest: for it may be so and yet be quite disproportionate to\nthe nature of the agent.  The correspondence therefore, or disproportion,\narises from somewhat else.  This can be nothing but a difference in\nnature and kind, altogether distinct from strength, between the inward\nprinciples.  Some then are in nature and kind superior to others.  And\nthe correspondence arises from the action being conformable to the higher\nprinciple; and the unsuitableness from its being contrary to it.\nReasonable self-love and conscience are the chief or superior principles\nin the nature of man; because an action may be suitable to this nature,\nthough all other principles be violated, but becomes unsuitable if either\nof those are.  Conscience and self-love, if we understand our true\nhappiness, always lead us the same way.  Duty and interest are perfectly\ncoincident; for the most part in this world, but entirely and in every\ninstance if we take in the future and the whole; this being implied in\nthe notion of a good and perfect administration of things.  Thus they who\nhave been so wise in their generation as to regard only their own\nsupposed interest, at the expense and to the injury of others, shall at\nlast find, that he who has given up all the advantages of the present\nworld, rather than violate his conscience and the relations of life, has\ninfinitely better provided for himself, and secured his owns interest and\nhappiness.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON IV.  UPON THE GOVERNMENT OF THE TONGUE.\n\n\n   JAMES i. 26.\n\n   _If any man among you seem to be religious_, _and bridleth not his\n   tongue_, _but deceiveth his own heart_, _this man's religion is vain_.\n\nThe translation of this text would be more determinate by being more\nliteral, thus: _If any man among you seemeth to be religious_, _not\nbridling his tongue_, _but deceiving his own heart_, _this man's religion\nis vain_.  This determines that the words, _but deceiveth his own heart_,\nare not put in opposition to _seemeth to be religious_, but to _bridleth\nnot his tongue_.  The certain determinate meaning of the text then being,\nthat he who seemeth to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but in\nthat particular deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain, we\nmay observe somewhat very forcible and expressive in these words of St.\nJames.  As if the apostle had said, No man surely can make any pretences\nto religion, who does not at least believe that he bridleth his tongue:\nif he puts on any appearance or face of religion, and yet does not govern\nhis tongue, he must surely deceive himself in that particular, and think\nhe does; and whoever is so unhappy as to deceive himself in this, to\nimagine he keeps that unruly faculty in due subjection when indeed he\ndoes not, whatever the other part of his life be, his religion is vain;\nthe government of the tongue being a most material restraint which virtue\nlays us under: without it no man can be truly religious.\n\nIn treating upon this subject, I will consider,\n\nFirst, what is the general vice or fault here referred to; or what\ndisposition in men is supposed in moral reflections and precepts\nconcerning _bridling the tongue_.\n\nSecondly, when it may be said of any one, that he has a due government\nover himself in this respect.\n\nI.  Now, the fault referred to, and the disposition supposed, in precepts\nand reflections concerning the government of the tongue, is not\nevil-speaking from malice, nor lying or bearing false witness from\nindirect selfish designs.  The disposition to these, and the actual vices\nthemselves, all come under other subjects.  The tongue may be employed\nabout, and made to serve all the purposes of vice, in tempting and\ndeceiving, in perjury and injustice.  But the thing here supposed and\nreferred to, is talkativeness: a disposition to be talking, abstracted\nfrom the consideration of what is to be said; with very little or no\nregard to, or thought of doing, either good or harm.  And let not any\nimagine this to be a slight matter, and that it deserves not to have so\ngreat weight laid upon it, till he has considered what evil is implied in\nit, and the bad effects which follow from it.  It is perhaps true, that\nthey who are addicted to this folly would choose to confine themselves to\ntrifles and indifferent subjects, and so intend only to be guilty of\nbeing impertinent: but as they cannot go on for ever talking of nothing,\nas common matters will not afford a sufficient fund for perpetual\ncontinued discourse, where subjects of this kind are exhausted they will\ngo on to defamation, scandal, divulging of secrets, their own secrets as\nwell as those of others--anything rather than be silent.  They are\nplainly hurried on in the heat of their talk to say quite different\nthings from what they first intended, and which they afterwards wish\nunsaid: or improper things, which they had no other end in saying, but\nonly to afford employment to their tongue.  And if these people expect to\nbe heard and regarded--for there are some content merely with\ntalking--they will invent to engage your attention: and, when they have\nheard the least imperfect hint of an affair, they will out of their own\nhead add the circumstances of time and place and other matters to make\nout their story and give the appearance of probability to it: not that\nthey have any concern about being believed, otherwise than as a means of\nbeing heard.  The thing is, to engage your attention; to take you up\nwholly for the present time: what reflections will be made afterwards, is\nin truth the least of their thoughts.  And further, when persons who\nindulge themselves in these liberties of the tongue are in any degree\noffended with another--as little disgusts and misunderstandings will\nbe--they allow themselves to defame and revile such a one without any\nmoderation or bounds; though the offence is so very slight, that they\nthemselves would not do, nor perhaps wish him, an injury in any other\nway.  And in this case the scandal and revilings are chiefly owing to\ntalkativeness, and not bridling their tongue, and so come under our\npresent subject.  The least occasion in the world will make the humour\nbreak out in this particular way or in another.  It as like a torrent,\nwhich must and will flow; but the least thing imaginable will first of\nall give it either this or another direction, turn it into this or that\nchannel: or like a fire--the nature of which, when in a heap of\ncombustible matter, is to spread and lay waste all around; but any one of\na thousand little accidents will occasion it to break out first either in\nthis or another particular part.\n\nThe subject then before us, though it does run up into, and can scarce be\ntreated as entirely distinct from all others, yet it needs not be so much\nmixed or blended with them as it often is.  Every faculty and power may\nbe used as the instrument of premeditated vice and wickedness, merely as\nthe most proper and effectual means of executing such designs.  But if a\nman, from deep malice and desire of revenge, should meditate a falsehood\nwith a settled design to ruin his neighbour's reputation, and should with\ngreat coolness and deliberation spread it, nobody would choose to say of\nsuch a one that he had no government of his tongue.  A man may use the\nfaculty of speech as an instrument of false witness, who yet has so\nentire a command over that faculty as never to speak but from forethought\nand cool design.  Here the crime is injustice and perjury, and, strictly\nspeaking, no more belongs to the present subject than perjury and\ninjustice in any other way.  But there is such a thing as a disposition\nto be talking for its own sake; from which persons often say anything,\ngood or bad, of others, merely as a subject of discourse, according to\nthe particular temper they themselves happen to be in, and to pass away\nthe present time.  There is likewise to be observed in persons such a\nstrong and eager desire of engaging attention to what they say, that they\nwill speak good or evil, truth or otherwise, merely as one or the other\nseems to be most hearkened to: and this though it is sometimes joined, is\nnot the same with the desire of being thought important and men of\nconsequence.  There is in some such a disposition to be talking, that an\noffence of the slightest kind, and such as would not raise any other\nresentment, yet raises, if I may so speak, the resentment of the\ntongue--puts it into a flame, into the most ungovernable motions.  This\noutrage, when the person it respects is present, we distinguish in the\nlower rank of people by a peculiar term: and let it be observed, that\nthough the decencies of behaviour are a little kept, the same outrage and\nvirulence, indulged when he is absent, is an offence of the same kind.\nBut, not to distinguish any further in this manner, men race into faults\nand follies which cannot so properly be referred to any one general head\nas this--that they have not a due government over their tongue.\n\nAnd this unrestrained volubility and wantonness of speech is the occasion\nof numberless evils and vexations in life.  It begets resentment in him\nwho is the subject of it, sows the seed of strife and dissension amongst\nothers, and inflames little disgusts and offences which if let alone\nwould wear away of themselves: it is often of as bad effect upon the good\nname of others, as deep envy or malice: and to say the least of it in\nthis respect, it destroys and perverts a certain equity of the utmost\nimportance to society to be observed--namely, that praise and dispraise,\na good or bad character, should always be bestowed according to desert.\nThe tongue used in such a licentious manner is like a sword in the hand\nof a madman; it is employed at random, it can scarce possibly do any\ngood, and for the most part does a world of mischief; and implies not\nonly great folly and a trifling spirit, but great viciousness of mind,\ngreat indifference to truth and falsity, and to the reputation, welfare,\nand good of others.  So much reason is there for what St. James says of\nthe tongue, _It is a fire_, _a world of iniquity_, _it defileth the whole\nbody_, _setteth on fire the course of nature_, _and is itself set on fire\nof hell_. {8}  This is the faculty or disposition which we are required\nto keep a guard upon: these are the vices and follies it runs into when\nnot kept under due restraint.\n\nII.  Wherein the due government of the tongue consists, or when it may be\nsaid of any one in a moral and religious sense that he _bridleth his\ntongue_, I come now to consider.\n\nThe due and proper use of any natural faculty or power is to be judged of\nby the end and design for which it was given us.  The chief purpose for\nwhich the faculty of speech was given to man is plainly that we might\ncommunicate our thoughts to each other, in order to carry on the affairs\nof the world; for business, and for our improvement in knowledge and\nlearning.  But the good Author of our nature designed us not only\nnecessaries, but likewise enjoyment and satisfaction, in that being He\nhath graciously given, and in that condition of life He hath placed us\nin.  There are secondary uses of our faculties: they administer to\ndelight, as well as to necessity; and as they are equally-adapted to\nboth, there is no doubt but He intended them for our gratification as\nwell as for the support and continuance of our being.  The secondary use\nof speech is to please and be entertaining to each other in conversation.\nThis is in every respect allowable and right; it unites men closer in\nalliances and friendships; gives us a fellow-feeling of the prosperity\nand unhappiness of each other; and is in several respects servicable to\nvirtue, and to promote good behaviour in the world.  And provided there\nbe not too much time spent in it, if it were considered only in the way\nof gratification and delight, men must have strange notion of God and of\nreligion to think that He can be offended with it, or that it is any way\ninconsistent with the strictest virtue.  But the truth is, such sort of\nconversation, though it has no particular good tendency, yet it has a\ngeneral good one; it is social and friendly, and tends to promote\nhumanity, good-nature, and civility.\n\nAs the end and use, so likewise the abuse of speech, relates to the one\nor other of these: either to business or to conversation.  As to the\nformer: deceit in the management of business and affairs does not\nproperly belong to the subject now before us: though one may just mention\nthat multitude, that heedless number of words with which business is\nperplexed, where a much fewer would, as it should seem, better serve the\npurpose; but this must be left to those who understand the matter.  The\ngovernment of the tongue, considered as a subject of itself, relates\nchiefly to conversation; to that kind of discourse which usually fills up\nthe time spent in friendly meetings and visits of civility.  And the\ndanger is, lest persons entertain themselves and others at the expense of\ntheir wisdom and their virtue, and to the injury or offence of their\nneighbour.  If they will observe and keep clear of these, they may be as\nfree and easy and unreserved as they can desire.\n\nThe cautions to be given for avoiding these dangers, and to render\nconversation innocent and agreeable, fall under the following\nparticulars: silence; talking of indifferent things; and, which makes up\ntoo great a part of conversation, giving of characters, speaking well or\nevil of others.\n\nThe Wise Man observes that \"there is a time to speak, and a time to keep\nsilence.\"  One meets with people in the world who seem never to have made\nthe last of these observations.  And yet these great talkers do not at\nall speak from their having anything to say, as every sentence shows, but\nonly from their inclination to be talking.  Their conversation is merely\nan exercise of the tongue: no other human faculty has any share in it.  It\nis strange these persons can help reflecting, that unless they have in\ntruth a superior capacity, and are in an extraordinary manner furnished\nfor conversation if they are entertaining, it is at their own expense.  Is\nit possible that it should never come into people's thoughts to suspect\nwhether or no it be to their advantage to show so very much of\nthemselves?  \"O that you would altogether hold your peace, and it should\nbe your wisdom.\" {9}  Remember likewise there are persons who love fewer\nwords, an inoffensive sort of people, and who deserve some regard, though\nof too still and composed tempers for you.  Of this number was the Son of\nSirach: for he plainly speaks from experience when he says, \"As hills of\nsand are to the steps of the aged, so is one of many words to a quiet\nman.\"  But one would think it should be obvious to every one, that when\nthey are in company with their superiors of any kind--in years,\nknowledge, and experience--when proper and useful subjects are discoursed\nof, which they cannot bear a part in, that these are times for silence,\nwhen they should learn to hear, and be attentive, at least in their turn.\nIt is indeed a very unhappy way these people are in; they in a manner cut\nthemselves out from all advantage of conversation, except that of being\nentertained with their own talk: their business in coming into company\nnot being at all to be informed, to hear, to learn, but to display\nthemselves, or rather to exert their faculty, and talk without any design\nat all.  And if we consider conversation as an entertainment, as somewhat\nto unbend the mind, as a diversion from the cares, the business, and the\nsorrows of life, it is of the very nature of it that the discourse be\nmutual.  This, I say, is implied in the very notion of what we\ndistinguish by conversation, or being in company.  Attention to the\ncontinued discourse of one alone grows more painful, often, than the\ncares and business we come to be diverted from.  He, therefore, who\nimposes this upon us is guilty of a double offence--arbitrarily enjoining\nsilence upon all the rest, and likewise obliging them to this painful\nattention.\n\nI am sensible these things are apt to be passed over, as too little to\ncome into a serious discourse; but in reality men are obliged, even in\npoint of morality and virtue, to observe all the decencies of behaviour.\nThe greatest evils in life have had their rise from somewhat which was\nthought of too little importance to be attended to.  And as to the matter\nwe are now upon, it is absolutely necessary to be considered.  For if\npeople will not maintain a due government over themselves, in regarding\nproper times and seasons for silence, but _will_ be talking, they\ncertainly, whether they design it or not at first, will go on to scandal\nand evil-speaking, and divulging secrets.\n\nIf it were needful to say anything further to persuade men to learn this\nlesson of silence, one might put them in mind how insignificant they\nrender themselves by this excessive talkativeness: insomuch that, if they\ndo chance to say anything which deserves to be attended to and regarded,\nit is lost in the variety and abundance which they utter of another sort.\n\nThe occasions of silence then are obvious, and one would think should be\neasily distinguished by everybody: namely, when a man has nothing to say;\nor nothing but what is better unsaid: better, either in regard to the\nparticular persons he is present with; or from its being an interruption\nto conversation itself; or to conversation of a more agreeable kind; or\nbetter, lastly, with regard to himself.  I will end this particular with\ntwo reflections of the Wise Man; one of which, in the strongest manner,\nexposes the ridiculous part of this licentiousness of the tongue; and the\nother, the great danger and viciousness of it.  _When he that is a fool\nwalketh by the way side_, _his wisdom faileth him_, _and he saith to\nevery one that he is a fool_. {10}  The other is, _In the multitude of\nwords there wanteth not sin_. {11}\n\nAs to the government of the tongue in respect to talking upon indifferent\nsubjects: after what has been said concerning the due government of it in\nrespect to the occasions and times for silence, there is little more\nnecessary than only to caution men to be fully satisfied that the\nsubjects are indeed of an indifferent nature; and not to spend too much\ntime in conversation of this kind.  But persons must be sure to take heed\nthat the subject of their discourse be at least of an indifferent nature:\nthat it be no way offensive to virtue, religion, or good manners: that it\nbe not of a licentious, dissolute sort, this leaving always ill\nimpressions upon the mind; that it be no way injurious or vexatious to\nothers; and that too much time be not spent this way, to the neglect of\nthose duties and offices of life which belong to their station and\ncondition in the world.  However, though there is not any necessity that\nmen should aim at being important and weighty in every sentence they\nspeak: yet since useful subjects, at least of some kinds, are as\nentertaining as others, a wise man, even when he desires to unbend his\nmind from business, would choose that the conversation might turn upon\nsomewhat instructive.\n\nThe last thing is, the government of the tongue as relating to discourse\nof the affairs of others, and giving of characters.  These are in a\nmanner the same; and one can scarce call it an indifferent subject,\nbecause discourse upon it almost perpetually runs into somewhat criminal.\n\nAnd, first of all, it were very much to be wished that this did not take\nup so great a part of conversation; because it is indeed a subject of a\ndangerous nature.  Let any one consider the various interests,\ncompetitions, and little misunderstandings which arise amongst men; and\nhe will soon see that he is not unprejudiced and impartial; that he is\nnot, as I may speak, neutral enough to trust himself with talking of the\ncharacter and concerns of his neighbour, in a free, careless, and\nunreserved manner.  There is perpetually, and often it is not attended\nto, a rivalship amongst people of one kind or another in respect to wit,\nbeauty, learning, fortune, and that one thing will insensibly influence\nthem to speak to the disadvantage of others, even where there is no\nformed malice or ill-design.  Since therefore it is so hard to enter into\nthis subject without offending, the first thing to be observed is that\npeople should learn to decline it; to get over that strong inclination\nmost have to be talking of the concerns and behaviour of their neighbour.\n\nBut since it is impossible that this subject should be wholly excluded\nconversation; and since it is necessary that the characters of men should\nbe known: the next thing is that it is a matter of importance what is\nsaid; and, therefore, that we should be religiously scrupulous and exact\nto say nothing, either good or bad, but what is true.  I put it thus,\nbecause it is in reality of as great importance to the good of society,\nthat the characters of bad men should be known, as that the characters of\ngood men should.  People who are given to scandal and detraction may\nindeed make an ill-use of this observation; but truths, which are of\nservice towards regulating our conduct, are not to be disowned, or even\nconcealed, because a bad use may be made of them.  This however would be\neffectually prevented if these two things were attended to.  First, That,\nthough it is equally of bad consequence to society that men should have\neither good or ill characters which they do not deserve; yet, when you\nsay somewhat good of a man which he does not deserve, there is no wrong\ndone him in particular; whereas, when you say evil of a man which he does\nnot deserve, here is a direct formal injury, a real piece of injustice\ndone him.  This therefore makes a wide difference; and gives us, in point\nof virtue, much greater latitude in speaking well than ill of others.\nSecondly, A good man is friendly to his fellow-creatures, and a lover of\nmankind; and so will, upon every occasion, and often without any, say all\nthe good he can of everybody; but, so far as he is a good man, will never\nbe disposed to speak evil of any, unless there be some other reason for\nit, besides, barely that it is true.  If he be charged with having given\nan ill character, he will scarce think it a sufficient justification of\nhimself to say it was a true one, unless he can also give some further\naccount how he came to do so: a just indignation against particular\ninstances of villainy, where they are great and scandalous; or to prevent\nan innocent man from being deceived and betrayed, when he has great trust\nand confidence in one who does not deserve it.  Justice must be done to\nevery part of a subject when we are considering it.  If there be a man,\nwho bears a fair character in the world, whom yet we know to be without\nfaith or honesty, to be really an ill man; it must be allowed in general\nthat we shall do a piece of service to society by letting such a one's\ntrue character be known.  This is no more than what we have an instance\nof in our Saviour himself; {12} though He was mild and gentle beyond\nexample.  However, no words can express too strongly the caution which\nshould be used in such a case as this.\n\nUpon the whole matter: If people would observe the obvious occasions of\nsilence, if they would subdue the inclination to tale-bearing, and that\neager desire to engage attention, which is an original disease in some\nminds, they would be in little danger of offending with their tongue; and\nwould, in a moral and religious sense, have due government over it.\n\nI will conclude with some precepts and reflections of the Son of Sirach\nupon this subject.  _Be swift to hear_; _and_, _if thou hast\nunderstanding_, _answer thy neighbour_; _if not_, _lay thy hand upon thy\nmouth_.  _Honour and shame is in talk_.  _A man of an ill tongue is\ndangerous in his city_, _and he that is rash in his talk shall be hated_.\n_A wise man wilt hold his tongue till he see opportunity_; _but a babbler\nand a fool will regard no time_.  _He that useth many words shall be\nabhorred_; _and he that taketh to himself authority therein shall be\nhated_.  _A backbiting tongue hath disquieted many_; _strong cities hath\nit pulled down_, _and overthrown the houses of great men_.  _The tongue\nof a man is his fall_; _but if thou love to hear_, _thou shall receive\nunderstanding_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON V.  UPON COMPASSION.\n\n\n   ROM. xii. 15.\n\n   _Rejoice with them that do rejoice_, _and weep with them that weep_.\n\nEvery man is to be considered in two capacities, the private and public;\nas designed to pursue his own interest, and likewise to contribute to the\ngood of others.  Whoever will consider may see that, in general, there is\nno contrariety between these; but that from the original constitution of\nman, and the circumstances he is placed in, they perfectly coincide, and\nmutually carry on each other.  But, among the great variety of affections\nor principles of actions in our nature, some in their primary intention\nand design seem to belong to the single or private, others to the public\nor social capacity.  The affections required in the text are of the\nlatter sort.  When we rejoice in the prosperity of others, and\ncompassionate their distresses, we as it were substitute them for\nourselves, their interest for our own; and have the same kind of pleasure\nin their prosperity, and sorrow in their distress, as we have from\nreflection upon our own.  Now there is nothing strange or unaccountable\nin our being thus carried out, and affected towards the interests of\nothers.  For, if there be any appetite, or any inward principle besides\nself-love; why may there not be an affection to the good of our fellow-\ncreatures, and delight from that affection's being gratified, and\nuneasiness from things going contrary to it? {13}\n\nOf these two, delight in the prosperity of others, and compassion for\ntheir distresses, the last is felt much more generally than the former.\nThough men do not universally rejoice with all whom they see rejoice,\nyet, accidental obstacles removed, they naturally compassionate all, in\nsome degree, whom they see in distress; so far as they have any real\nperception or sense of that distress: insomuch that words expressing this\nlatter, pity, compassion, frequently occur: whereas we have scarce any\nsingle one by which the former is distinctly expressed.  Congratulation\nindeed answers condolence: but both these words are intended to signify\ncertain forms of civility rather than any inward sensation or feeling.\nThis difference or inequality is so remarkable that we plainly consider\ncompassion as itself an original, distinct, particular affection in human\nnature; whereas to rejoice in the good of others is only a consequence of\nthe general affection of love and good-will to them.  The reason and\naccount of which matter is this: when a man has obtained any particular\nadvantage or felicity, his end is gained; and he does not in that\nparticular want the assistance of another: there was therefore no need of\na distinct affection towards that felicity of another already obtained;\nneither would such affection directly carry him on to do good to that\nperson: whereas men in distress want assistance; and compassion leads us\ndirectly to assist them.  The object of the former is the present\nfelicity of another; the object of the latter is the present misery of\nanother.  It is easy to see that the latter wants a particular affection\nfor its relief, and that the former does not want one because it does not\nwant assistance.  And upon supposition of a distinct affection in both\ncases, the one must rest in the exercise of itself, having nothing\nfurther to gain; the other does not rest in itself, but carries us on to\nassist the distressed.\n\nBut, supposing these affections natural to the mind, particularly the\nlast; \"Has not each man troubles enough of his own? must he indulge an\naffection which appropriates to himself those of others? which leads him\nto contract the least desirable of all friendships, friendships with the\nunfortunate?  Must we invert the known rule of prudence, and choose to\nassociate ourselves with the distressed? or, allowing that we ought, so\nfar as it is in our power to relieve them, yet is it not better to do\nthis from reason and duty?  Does not passion and affection of every kind\nperpetually mislead us?  Nay, is not passion and affection itself a\nweakness, and what a perfect being must be entirely free from?\"  Perhaps\nso, but it is mankind I am speaking of; imperfect creatures, and who\nnaturally and, from the condition we are placed in, necessarily depend\nupon each other.  With respect to such creatures, it would be found of as\nbad consequence to eradicate all natural affections as to be entirely\ngoverned by them.  This would almost sink us to the condition of brutes;\nand that would leave us without a sufficient principle of action.  Reason\nalone, whatever any one may wish, is not in reality a sufficient motive\nof virtue in such a creature as man; but this reason joined with those\naffections which God has impressed upon his heart, and when these are\nallowed scope to exercise themselves, but under strict government and\ndirection of reason, then it is we act suitably to our nature, and to the\ncircumstances God has placed us in.  Neither is affection itself at all a\nweakness; nor does it argue defect, any otherwise than as our senses and\nappetites do; they belong to our condition of nature, and are what we\ncannot be without.  God Almighty is, to be sure, unmoved by passion or\nappetite, unchanged by affection; but then it is to be added that He\nneither sees nor hears nor perceives things by any senses like ours; but\nin a manner infinitely more perfect.  Now, as it is an absurdity almost\ntoo gross to be mentioned, for a man to endeavour to get rid of his\nsenses, because the Supreme Being discerns things more perfectly without\nthem; it is as real, though not so obvious an absurdity, to endeavour to\neradicate the passions He has given us, because He is without them.  For,\nsince our passions are as really a part of our constitution as our\nsenses; since the former as really belong to our condition of nature as\nthe latter; to get rid of either is equally a violation of and breaking\nin upon that nature and constitution He has given us.  Both our senses\nand our passions are a supply to the imperfection of our nature; thus\nthey show that we are such sort of creatures as to stand in need of those\nhelps which higher orders of creatures do not.  But it is not the supply,\nbut the deficiency; as it is not a remedy, but a disease, which is the\nimperfection.  However, our appetites, passions, senses, no way imply\ndisease: nor indeed do they imply deficiency or imperfection of any sort;\nbut only this, that the constitution of nature, according to which God\nhas made us, is such as to require them.  And it is so far from being\ntrue, that a wise man must entirely suppress compassion, and all fellow-\nfeeling for others, as a weakness; and trust to reason alone to teach and\nenforce upon him the practice of the several charities we owe to our\nkind; that, on the contrary, even the bare exercise of such affections\nwould itself be for the good and happiness of the world; and the\nimperfection of the higher principles of reason and religion in man, the\nlittle influence they have upon our practice, and the strength and\nprevalency of contrary ones, plainly require these affections to be a\nrestraint upon these latter, and a supply to the deficiencies of the\nformer.\n\nFirst, The very exercise itself of these affections in a just and\nreasonable manner and degree would upon the whole increase the\nsatisfactions and lessen the miseries of life.\n\nIt is the tendency and business of virtue and religion to procure, as\nmuch as may be, universal good-will, trust, and friendship amongst\nmankind.  If this could be brought to obtain; and each man enjoyed the\nhappiness of others, as every one does that of a friend; and looked upon\nthe success and prosperity of his neighbour as every one does upon that\nof his children and family; it is too manifest to be insisted upon how\nmuch the enjoyments of life would be increased.  There would be so much\nhappiness introduced into the world, without any deduction or\ninconvenience from it, in proportion as the precept of _rejoicing with\nthose who rejoice_ was universally obeyed.  Our Saviour has owned this\ngood affection as belonging to our nature in the parable of the _lost\nsheep_, and does not think it to the disadvantage of a perfect state to\nrepresent its happiness as capable of increase from reflection upon that\nof others.\n\nBut since in such a creature as man, compassion or sorrow for the\ndistress of others seems so far necessarily connected with joy in their\nprosperity, as that whoever rejoices in one must unavoidably\ncompassionate the other; there cannot be that delight or satisfaction,\nwhich appears to be so considerable, without the inconveniences, whatever\nthey are, of compassion.\n\nHowever, without considering this connection, there is no doubt but that\nmore good than evil, more delight than sorrow, arises from compassion\nitself; there being so many things which balance the sorrow of it.  There\nis first the relief which the distressed feel from this affection in\nothers towards them.  There is likewise the additional misery which they\nwould feel from the reflection that no one commiserated their case.  It\nis indeed true that any disposition, prevailing beyond a certain degree,\nbecomes somewhat wrong; and we have ways of speaking, which, though they\ndo not directly express that excess, yet always lead our thoughts to it,\nand give us the notion of it.  Thus, when mention is made of delight in\nbeing pitied, this always conveys to our mind the notion of somewhat\nwhich is really a weakness.  The manner of speaking, I say, implies a\ncertain weakness and feebleness of mind, which is and ought to be\ndisapproved.  But men of the greatest fortitude would in distress feel\nuneasiness from knowing that no person in the world had any sort of\ncompassion or real concern for them; and in some cases, especially when\nthe temper is enfeebled by sickness, or any long and great distress,\ndoubtless, would feel a kind of relief even from the helpless goodwill\nand ineffectual assistances of those about them.  Over against the sorrow\nof compassion is likewise to be set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction,\nwhich accompanies it, unless in cases where the distress of another is by\nsome means so brought home to ourselves as to become in a manner our own;\nor when from weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which ought\nto be corrected.  This tranquillity, or calm satisfaction, proceeds\npartly from consciousness of a right affection and temper of mind, and\npartly from a sense of our own freedom from the misery we compassionate.\nThis last may possibly appear to some at first sight faulty; but it\nreally is not so.  It is the same with that positive enjoyment, which\nsudden ease from pain for the present affords, arising from a real sense\nof misery, joined with a sense of our freedom from it; which in all cases\nmust afford some degree of satisfaction.\n\nTo these things must be added the observation which respects both the\naffections we are considering; that they who have got over all fellow-\nfeeling for others have withal contracted a certain callousness of heart,\nwhich renders them insensible to most other satisfactions but those of\nthe grossest kind.\n\nSecondly, Without the exercise of these affections men would certainly be\nmuch more wanting in the offices of charity they owe to cache other, and\nlikewise more cruel and injurious than they are at present.\n\nThe private interest of the individual would not be sufficiently provided\nfor by reasonable and cool self-love alone; therefore the appetites and\npassions are placed within as a guard and further security, without which\nit would not be taken due care of.  It is manifest our life would be\nneglected were it not for the calls of hunger and thirst and weariness;\nnotwithstanding that without them reason would assure us that the\nrecruits of food and sleep are the necessary means of our preservation.\nIt is therefore absurd to imagine that, without affections, the same\nreason alone would be more effectual to engage us to perform the duties\nwe owe to our fellow-creatures.  One of this make would be as defective,\nas much wanting, considered with respect to society, as one of the former\nmake would be defective, or wanting, considered as an individual, or in\nhis private capacity.  Is it possible any can in earnest think that a\npublic spirit, _i.e._, a settled reasonable principle of benevolence to\nmankind, is so prevalent and strong in the species as that we may venture\nto throw off the under affections, which are its assistants, carry it\nforward and mark out particular courses for it; family, friends,\nneighbourhood, the distressed, our country?  The common joys and the\ncommon sorrows, which belong to these relations and circumstances, are as\nplainly useful to society as the pain and pleasure belonging to hunger,\nthirst, and weariness are of service to the individual.  In defect of\nthat higher principle of reason, compassion is often the only way by\nwhich the indigent can have access to us: and therefore, to eradicate\nthis, though it is not indeed formally to deny them that assistance which\nis their due; yet it is to cut them off from that which is too frequently\ntheir only way of obtaining it.  And as for those who have shut up this\ndoor against the complaints of the miserable, and conquered this\naffection in themselves; even these persons will be under great\nrestraints from the same affection in others.  Thus a man who has himself\nno sense of injustice, cruelty, oppression, will be kept from running the\nutmost lengths of wickedness by fear of that detestation, and even\nresentment of inhumanity, in many particular instances of it, which\ncompassion for the object towards whom such inhumanity is exercised,\nexcites in the bulk of mankind.  And this is frequently the chief danger\nand the chief restraint which tyrants and the great oppressors of the\nworld feel.\n\nIn general, experience will show that, as want of natural appetite to\nfood supposes and proceeds from some bodily disease; so the apathy the\nStoics talk of as much supposes, or is accompanied with, somewhat amiss\nin the moral character, in that which is the health of the mind.  Those\nwho formerly aimed at this upon the foot of philosophy appear to have had\nbetter success in eradicating the affections of tenderness and compassion\nthan they had with the passions of envy, pride, and resentment: these\nlatter, at best, were but concealed, and that imperfectly too.  How far\nthis observation may be extended to such as endeavour to suppress the\nnatural impulses of their affections, in order to form themselves for\nbusiness and the world, I shall not determine.  But there does not appear\nany capacity or relation to be named, in which men ought to be entirely\ndeaf to the calls of affection, unless the judicial one is to be\nexcepted.\n\nAnd as to those who are commonly called the men of pleasure, it is\nmanifest that the reason they set up for hardness of heart is to avoid\nbeing interrupted in their course by the ruin and misery they are the\nauthors of; neither are persons of this character always the most free\nfrom the impotencies of envy and resentment.  What may men at last bring\nthemselves to, by suppressing their passions and affections of one kind,\nand leaving those of the other in their full strength?  But surely it\nmight be expected that persons who make pleasure their study and their\nbusiness, if they understood what they profess, would reflect, how many\nof the entertainments of life, how many of those kind of amusements which\nseem peculiarly to belong to men of leisure and education they became\ninsensible to by this acquired hardness of heart.\n\nI shall close these reflections with barely mentioning the behaviour of\nthat divine Person, who was the example of all perfection in human\nnature, as represented in the Gospels mourning, and even, in a literal\nsense, weeping over the distresses of His creatures.\n\nThe observation already made, that, of the two affections mentioned in\nthe text, the latter exerts itself much more than the former; that, from\nthe original constitution of human nature, we much more generally and\nsensibly compassionate the distressed than rejoice within the prosperous,\nrequires to be particularly considered.  This observation, therefore,\nwith the reflections which arise out of it, and which it leads our\nthoughts to, shall be the subject of another discourse.\n\nFor the conclusion of this, let me just take notice of the danger of over-\ngreat refinements; of going beside or beyond the plain, obvious, first\nappearances of things, upon the subject of morals and religion.  The\nleast observation will show how little the generality of men are capable\nof speculations.  Therefore morality and religion must be somewhat plan\nand easy to be understood: it must appeal to what we call plain common\nsense, as distinguished from superior capacity and improvement; because\nit appeals to mankind.  Persons of superior capacity and improvement have\noften fallen into errors which no one of mere common understanding could.\nIs it possible that one of this latter character could even of himself\nhave thought that there was absolutely no such thing in mankind as\naffection to the good of others? suppose of parents to their children; or\nthat what he felt upon seeing a friend in distress was only fear for\nhimself; or, upon supposition of the affections of kindness and\ncompassion, that it was the business of wisdom and virtue to set him\nabout extirpating them as fast as he could?  And yet each of these\nmanifest contradictions to nature has been laid down by men of\nspeculation as a discovery in moral philosophy; which they, it seems,\nhave found out through all the specious appearances to the contrary.  This\nreflection may be extended further.  The extravagances of enthusiasm and\nsuperstition do not at all lie in the road of common sense; and\ntherefore, so far as they are _original mistakes_, must be owing to going\nbeside or beyond it.  Now, since inquiry and examination can relate only\nto things so obscure and uncertain as to stand in need of it, and to\npersons who are capable of it; the proper advice to be given to plain\nhonest men, to secure them from the extremes both of superstition and\nirreligion, is that of the Son of Sirach: _In every good work trust thy\nown soul_; _for this is the keeping of the commandment_. {14}\n\n\n\n\nSERMON VI.  UPON COMPASSION.\nPREACHED THE FIRST SUNDAY IN LENT.\n\n\n   Rom. xii. 15.\n\n   _Rejoice with then that do rejoice_, _and weep with them that weep_.\n\nThere is a much more exact correspondence between the natural and moral\nworld than we are apt to take notice of.  The inward frame of man does in\na peculiar manner answer to the external condition and circumstances of\nlife in which he is placed.  This is a particular instance of that\ngeneral observation of the Son of Sirach: _All things are double one\nagainst another_, _and God hath made nothing imperfect_. {15}  The\nseveral passions and affections in the heart of man, compared with the\ncircumstances of life in which he is placed, afford, to such as will\nattend to them, as certain instances of final causes, as any whatever,\nwhich are more commonly alleged for such: since those affections lead him\nto a certain determinate course of action suitable to those\ncircumstances; as (for instance) compassion to relieve the distressed.\nAnd as all observations of final causes, drawn from the principles of\naction in the heart of man, compared with the condition he is placed in,\nserve all the good uses which instances of final causes in the material\nworld about us do; and both these are equally proofs of wisdom and design\nin the Author of nature: so the former serve to further good purposes;\nthey show us what course of life we are made for, what is our duty, and\nin a peculiar manner enforce upon us the practice of it.\n\nSuppose we are capable of happiness and of misery in degrees equally\nintense and extreme, yet, we are capable of the latter for a much longer\ntime, beyond all comparison.  We see men in the tortures of pain for\nhours, days, and, excepting the short suspensions of sleep, for months\ntogether, without intermission, to which no enjoyments of life do, in\ndegree and continuance, bear any sort of proportion.  And such is our\nmake and that of the world about us that any thing may become the\ninstrument of pain and sorrow to us.  Thus almost any one man is capable\nof doing mischief to any other, though he may not be capable of doing him\ngood; and if he be capable of doing him some good, he is capable of doing\nhim more evil.  And it is, in numberless cases, much more in our power to\nlessen the miseries of others than to promote their positive happiness,\nany otherwise than as the former often includes the latter; ease from\nmisery occasioning for some time the greatest positive enjoyment.  This\nconstitution of nature, namely, that it is so munch more in our power to\noccasion and likewise to lessen misery than to promote positive\nhappiness, plainly required a particular affection to hinder us from\nabusing, and to incline us to make a right use of the former powers,\n_i.e._, the powers both to occasion and to lessen misery; over and above\nwhat was necessary to induce us to make a right use of the latter power,\nthat of promoting positive happiness.  The power we have over the misery\nof our fellow-creatures, to occasion or lessen it, being a more important\ntrust than the power we have of promoting their positive happiness; the\nformer requires and has a further, an additional, security and guard\nagainst its being violated, beyond and over and above what the latter\nhas.  The social nature of man, and general goodwill to his species,\nequally prevent him from doing evil, incline him to relieve the\ndistressed, and to promote the positive happiness of his\nfellow-creatures; but compassion only restrains from the first, and\ncarries him to the second; it hath nothing to do with the third.\n\nThe final causes, then, of compassion are to prevent and to relieve\nmisery.\n\nAs to the former: this affection may plainly be a restraint upon\nresentment, envy, unreasonable self-love; that is, upon all the\nprinciples from which men do evil to one another.  Let us instance only\nin resentment.  It seldom happens, in regulated societies, that men have\nan enemy so entirely in their power as to be able to satiate their\nresentment with safety.  But if we were to put this case, it is plainly\nsupposable that a person might bring his enemy into such a condition, as\nfrom being the object of anger and rage, to become an object of\ncompassion, even to himself, though the most malicious man in the world;\nand in this case compassion would stop him, if he could stop with safety,\nfrom pursuing his revenge any further.  But since nature has placed\nwithin us more powerful restraints to prevent mischief, and since the\nfinal cause of compassion is much more to relieve misery, let us go on to\nthe consideration of it in this view.\n\nAs this world was not intended to be a state of any great satisfaction or\nhigh enjoyment, so neither was it intended to be a mere scene of\nunhappiness and sorrow.  Mitigations and reliefs are provided by the\nmerciful Author of nature for most of the afflictions in human life.\nThere is kind provision made even against our frailties: as we are so\nconstituted that time abundantly abates our sorrows, and begets in us\nthat resignment of temper, which ought to have been produced by a better\ncause; a due sense of the authority of God, and our state of dependence.\nThis holds in respect too far the greatest part of the evils of life; I\nsuppose, in some degree, as to pain and sickness.  Now this part of the\nconstitution or make of man, considered as some relief to misery, and not\nas provision for positive happiness, is, if I may so speak, an instance\nof nature's compassion for us; and every natural remedy or relief to\nmisery may be considered in the same view.\n\nBut since in many cases it is very much in our power to alleviate the\nmiseries of each other; and benevolence, though natural in man to man,\nyet is in a very low degree kept down by interest and competitions; and\nmen, for the most part, are so engaged in the business and pleasures of\nthe world, as to overlook and turn away from objects of misery; which are\nplainly considered as interruptions to them in their way, as intruders\nupon their business, their gaiety, and mirth: compassion is an advocate\nwithin us in their behalf, to gain the unhappy admittance and access, to\nmake their case attended to.  If it sometimes serves a contrary purpose,\nand makes men industriously turn away from the miserable, these are only\ninstances of abuse and perversion: for the end, for which the affection\nwas given us, most certainly is not to make us avoid, but to make us\nattend to, the objects of it.  And if men would only resolve to allow\nthus much to it: let it bring before their view, the view of their mind,\nthe miseries of their fellow-creatures; let it gain for them that their\ncase be considered; I am persuaded it would not fail of gaining more, and\nthat very few real objects of charity would pass unrelieved.  Pain and\nsorrow and misery have a right to our assistance: compassion puts us in\nmind of the debt, and that we owe it to ourselves as well as to the\ndistressed.  For, to endeavour to get rid of the sorrow of compassion by\nturning from the wretched, when yet it is in our power to relieve them,\nis as unnatural as to endeavour to get rid of the pain of hunger by\nkeeping from the sight of food.  That we can do one with greater success\nthan we can the other is no proof that one is less a violation of nature\nthan the other.  Compassion is a call, a demand of nature, to relieve the\nunhappy as hunger is a natural call for food.  This affection plainly\ngives the objects of it an additional claim to relief and mercy, over and\nabove what our fellow-creatures in common have to our goodwill.\nLiberality and bounty are exceedingly commendable; and a particular\ndistinction in such a world as this, where men set themselves to contract\ntheir heart, and close it to all interests but their own.  It is by no\nmeans to be opposed to mercy, but always accompanies it: the distinction\nbetween them is only that the former leads our thoughts to a more\npromiscuous and undistinguished distribution of favours; to those who are\nnot, as well as those who are, necessitous; whereas the object of\ncompassion is misery.  But in the comparison, and where there is not a\npossibility of both, mercy is to have the preference: the affection of\ncompassion manifestly leads us to this preference.  Thus, to relieve the\nindigent and distressed, to single out the unhappy, from whom can be\nexpected no returns either of present entertainment or future service,\nfor the objects of our favours; to esteem a man's being friendless as a\nrecommendation; dejection, and incapacity of struggling through the\nworld, as a motive for assisting him; in a word, to consider these\ncircumstances of disadvantage, which are usually thought a sufficient\nreason for neglect and overlooking a person, as a motive for helping him\nforward: this is the course of benevolence which compassion marks out and\ndirects us to: this is that humanity which is so peculiarly becoming our\nnature and circumstances in this world.\n\nTo these considerations, drawn from the nature of man, must be added the\nreason of the thing itself we are recommending, which accords to and\nshows the same.  For since it is so much more in our power to lessen the\nmisery of our fellow-creatures than to promote their positive happiness;\nin cases where there is an inconsistency, we shall be likely to do much\nmore good by setting ourselves to mitigate the former than by\nendeavouring to promote the latter.  Let the competition be between the\npoor and the rich.  It is easy, you will say, to see which will have the\npreference.  True; but the question is, which ought to have the\npreference?  What proportion is there between the happiness produced by\ndoing a favour to the indigent, and that produced by doing the same\nfavour to one in easy circumstances?  It is manifest that the addition of\na very large estate to one who before had an affluence, will in many\ninstances yield him less new enjoyment or satisfaction than an ordinary\ncharity would yield to a necessitous person.  So that it is not only true\nthat our nature, _i.e._, the voice of God within us, carries us to the\nexercise of charity and benevolence in the way of compassion or mercy,\npreferably to any other way; but we also manifestly discern much more\ngood done by the former; or, if you will allow me the expressions, more\nmisery annihilated and happiness created.  If charity and benevolence,\nand endeavouring to do good to our fellow-creatures, be anything, this\nobservation deserves to be most seriously considered by all who have to\nbestow.  And it holds with great exactness, when applied to the several\ndegrees of greater and less indigency throughout the various ranks in\nhuman life: the happiness or good produced not being in proportion to\nwhat is bestowed, but in proportion to this joined with the need there\nwas of it.\n\nIt may perhaps be expected that upon this subject notice should be taken\nof occasions, circumstances, and characters which seem at once to call\nforth affections of different sorts.  Thus vice may be thought the object\nboth of pity and indignation: folly, of pity and of laughter.  How far\nthis is strictly true, I shall not inquire; but only observe upon the\nappearance, how much more humane it is to yield and give scope to\naffections, which are most directly in favour of, and friendly towards,\nour fellow-creatures; and that there is plainly much less danger of being\nled wrong by these than by the other.\n\nBut, notwithstanding all that has been said in recommendation of\ncompassion, that it is most amiable, most becoming human nature, and most\nuseful to the world; yet it must be owned that every affection, as\ndistinct from a principle of reason, may rise too high, and be beyond its\njust proportion.  And by means of this one carried too far, a man\nthroughout his life is subject to much more uneasiness than belongs to\nhis share; and in particular instances, it may be in such a degree as to\nincapacitate him from assisting the very person who is the object of it.\nBut as there are some who upon principle set up for suppressing this\naffection itself as weakness, there is also I know not what of fashion on\nthis side; and, by some means or other, the whole world almost is run\ninto the extremes of insensibility towards the distresses of their fellow-\ncreatures: so that general rules and exhortations must always be on the\nother side.\n\nAnd now to go on to the uses we should make of the foregoing reflections,\nthe further ones they lead to, and the general temper they have a\ntendency to beget in us.  There being that distinct affection implanted\nin the nature of man, tending to lessen the miseries of life, that\nparticular provision made for abating its sorrows, more than for\nincreasing its positive happiness, as before explained; this may suggest\nto us what should be our general aim respecting ourselves, in our passage\nthrough this world: namely, to endeavour chiefly to escape misery, keep\nfree from uneasiness, pain, and sorrow, or to get relief and mitigation\nof them; to propose to ourselves peace and tranquillity of mind, rather\nthan pursue after high enjoyments.  This is what the constitution of\nnature before explained marks out as the course we should follow, and the\nend we should aim at.  To make pleasure and mirth and jollity our\nbusiness, and be constantly hurrying about after some gay amusement, some\nnew gratification of sense or appetite, to those who will consider the\nnature of man and our condition in this world, will appear the most\nromantic scheme of life that ever entered into thought.  And yet how many\nare there who go on in this course, without learning better from the\ndaily, the hourly disappointments, listlessness, and satiety which\naccompany this fashionable method of wasting away their days!\n\nThe subject we have been insisting upon would lead us into the same kind\nof reflections by a different connection.  The miseries of life brought\nhome to ourselves by compassion, viewed through this affection considered\nas the sense by which they are perceived, would beget in us that\nmoderation, humility, and soberness of mind which has been now\nrecommended; and which peculiarly belongs to a season of recollection,\nthe only purpose of which is to bring us to a just sense of things, to\nrecover us out of that forgetfulness of ourselves, and our true state,\nwhich it is manifest far the greatest part of men pass their whole life\nin.  Upon this account Solomon says that _it is better to go to the house\nof mourning than to go to the house of feasting_; _i.e._, it is more to a\nman's advantage to turn his eyes towards objects of distress, to recall\nsometimes to his remembrance the occasions of sorrow, than to pass all\nhis days in thoughtless mirth and gaiety.  And he represents the wise as\nchoosing to frequent the former of these places; to be sure not for his\nown sake, but because _by the sadness of the countenance_, _the heart is\nmade better_.  Every one observes how temperate and reasonable men are\nwhen humbled and brought low by afflictions in comparison of what they\nare in high prosperity.  By this voluntary resort to the house of\nmourning, which is here recommended, we might learn all those useful\ninstructions which calamities teach without undergoing them ourselves;\nand grow wiser and better at a more easy rate than men commonly do.  The\nobjects themselves, which in that place of sorrow lie before our view,\nnaturally give us a seriousness and attention, check that wantonness\nwhich is the growth of prosperity and ease, and head us to reflect upon\nthe deficiencies of human life itself; that _every man at his best estate\nis altogether vanity_.  This would correct the florid and gaudy prospects\nand expectations which we are too apt to indulge, teach us to lower our\nnotions of happiness and enjoyment, bring them down to the reality of\nthings, to what is attainable, to what the frailty of our condition will\nadmit of, which, for any continuance, is only tranquillity, ease, and\nmoderate satisfactions.  Thus we might at once become proof against the\ntemptations with which the whole world almost is carried away; since it\nis plain that not only what is called a life of pleasure, but also\nvicious pursuits in general, aim at somewhat besides and beyond these\nmoderate satisfactions.\n\nAnd as to that obstinacy and wilfulness, which renders men so insensible\nto the motives of religion; this right sense of ourselves and of the\nworld about us would bend the stubborn mind, soften the heart, and make\nit more apt to receive impression; and this is the proper temper in which\nto call our ways to remembrance, to review and set home upon ourselves\nthe miscarriages of our past life.  In such a compliant state of mind,\nreason and conscience will have a fair hearing; which is the preparation\nfor, or rather the beginning of, that repentance, the outward show of\nwhich we all put on at this season.\n\nLastly, The various miseries of life which lie before us wherever we turn\nour eyes, the frailty of this mortal state we are passing through, may\nput us in mind that the present world is not our home; that we are merely\nstrangers and travellers in it, as all our fathers were.  It is therefore\nto be considered as a foreign country; in which our poverty and wants,\nand the insufficient supplies of them, were designed to turn our views to\nthat higher and better state we are heirs to: a state where will be no\nfollies to be overlooked, no miseries to be pitied, no wants to be\nrelieved; where the affection we have been now treating of will happily\nbe lost, as there will be no objects to exercise it upon: for _God shall\nwipe away all tears from their eyes_, _and there shall be no more death_,\n_neither sorrow_, _nor crying_; _neither shall there be any more pain_;\n_for the former things are passed away_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON VII.  UPON THE CHARACTER OF BALAAM.\nPREACHED THE SECOND SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.\n\n\n   NUMBERS xxiii. 10.\n\n   _Let me die the death of the righteous_, _and let my last end be like\n   his_.\n\nThese words, taken alone, and without respect to him who spoke them, lead\nour thoughts immediately to the different ends of good and bad men.  For\nthough the comparison is not expressed, yet it is manifestly implied; as\nis also the preference of one of these characters to the other in that\nlast circumstance, death.  And, since dying the death of the righteous or\nof the wicked necessarily implies men's being righteous or wicked;\n_i.e._, having lived righteously or wickedly; a comparison of them in\ntheir lives also might come into consideration, from such a single view\nof the words themselves.  But my present design is to consider them with\na particular reference or respect to him who spoke them; which reference,\nif you please to attend, you will see.  And if what shall be offered to\nyour consideration at this time be thought a discourse upon the whole\nhistory of this man, rather than upon the particular words I have read,\nthis is of no consequence: it is sufficient if it afford reflection of\nuse and service to ourselves.\n\nBut, in order to avoid cavils respecting this remarkable relation in\nScripture, either that part of it which you have heard in the first\nlesson for the day, or any other; let me just observe that as this is not\na place for answering them, so they no way affect the following\ndiscourse; since the character there given is plainly a real one in life,\nand such as there are parallels to.\n\nThe occasion of Balaam's coming out of his own country into the land of\nMoab, where he pronounced this solemn prayer or wish, he himself relates\nin the first parable or prophetic speech, of which it is the conclusion.\nIn which is a custom referred to, proper to be taken notice of: that of\ndevoting enemies to destruction before the entrance upon a war with them.\nThis custom appears to have prevailed over a great part of the world; for\nwe find it amongst the most distant nations.  The Romans had public\nofficers, to whom it belonged as a stated part of their office.  But\nthere was somewhat more particular in the case now before us: Balaam\nbeing looked upon as an extraordinary person, whose blessing or curse was\nthought to be always effectual.\n\nIn order to engage the reader's attention to this passage, the sacred\nhistorian has enumerated the preparatory circumstances, which are these.\nBalaam requires the king of Moab to build him seven altars, and to\nprepare him the same number of oxen and of rams.  The sacrifice being\nover, he retires alone to a solitude sacred to these occasions, there to\nwait the Divine inspiration or answer, for which the foregoing rites were\nthe preparation.  _And God met Balaam_, _and put a word in his mouth_;\n{16} upon receiving which, he returns back to the altars, where was the\nking, who had all this while attended the sacrifice, as appointed; he and\nall the princes of Moab standing, big with expectation of the Prophet's\nreply.  _And he took up his parable_, _and said_, _Balak the king of Moab\nhath brought me from Aram_, _out of the mountains of the east_, _saying_,\n_Come_, _curse me Jacob_, _and come_, _defy Israel_.  _How shall I\ncurse_, _whom God hath not cursed_?  _Or how shall I defy_, _whom the\nLord hath not defied_?  _For from the top of the rocks I see him_, _and\nfrom the hills I behold him_: _lo_, _the people shall dwell alone_, _and\nshall not be reckoned among the nations_.  _Who can count the dust of\nJacob_, _and the number of the fourth part of Israel_?  _Let me die the\ndeath of the righteous_, _and let my last end be like his_. {17}\n\nIt is necessary, as you will see in the progress of this discourse,\nparticularly to observe what he understood by _righteous_.  And he\nhimself is introduced in the book of Micah {18} explaining it; if by\n_righteous_ is meant _good_, as to be sure it is.  _O my people_,\n_remember now what Balak king of Moab consulted_, _and what Balaam the\nson of Beor answered him from Shittim unto Gilgal_.  From the mention of\nShittim it is manifest that it is this very story which is here referred\nto, though another part of it, the account of which is not now extant; as\nthere are many quotations in Scripture out of books which are not come\ndown to us.  _Remember what Balaam answered_, _that ye may know the\nrighteousness of the Lord_; _i.e._, the righteousness which God will\naccept.  Balak demands, _Wherewith shall I come before the Lord_, _and\nbow myself before the high God_?  _Shall I come before him with burnt-\nofferings_, _with calves of a year old_?  _Will the Lord be pleased with\nthousands of rams_, _or with ten thousands of rivers of oil_?  _Shall I\ngive my first-born for my transgression_, _the fruit of my body for the\nsin of my soul_?  Balaam answers him, _he hath showed thee_, _O man_,\n_what is good_: _and what doth the Lord require of thee_, _but to do\njustly_, _and to love mercy_, _and to walk humbly with thy God_?  Here is\na good man expressly characterised, as distinct from a dishonest and a\nsuperstitious man.  No words can more strongly exclude dishonesty and\nfalseness of heart than _doing justice and loving mercy_; and both these,\nas well as _walking humbly with God_, are put in opposition to those\nceremonial methods of recommendation, which Balak hoped might have served\nthe turn.  From hence appears what he meant by the _righteous_, whose\n_death_ he desires to die.\n\nWhether it was his own character shall now be inquired; and in order to\ndetermine it, we must take a view of his whole behaviour upon this\noccasion.  When the elders of Noah came to him, though he appears to have\nbeen much allured with the rewards offered, yet he had such regard to the\nauthority of God as to keep the messengers in suspense until he had\nconsulted His will.  _And God said to him_, _Thou shalt not go with\nthem_; _thou shalt not curse the people_, _for they are blessed_. {19}\nUpon this he dismisses the ambassadors, with an absolute refusal of\naccompanying them back to their king.  Thus far his regards to his duty\nprevailed, neither does there anything appear as yet amiss in his\nconduct.  His answer being reported to the king of Moab, a more\nhonourable embassy is immediately despatched, and greater rewards\nproposed.  Then the iniquity of his heart began to disclose itself.  A\nthorough honest man would without hesitation have repeated his former\nanswer, that he could not be guilty of so infamous a prostitution of the\nsacred character with which he was invested, as in the name of a prophet\nto curse those whom he knew to be blessed.  But instead of this, which\nwas the only honest part in these circumstances that lay before him, he\ndesires the princes of Moab to tarry that night with him also; and for\nthe sake of the reward deliberates, whether by some means or other he\nmight not be able to obtain leave to curse Israel; to do that, which had\nbeen before revealed to him to be contrary to the will of God, which yet\nhe resolves not to do without that permission.  Upon which, as when this\nnation afterwards rejected God from reigning over them, He gave them a\nking in His anger; in the same way, as appears from other parts of the\nnarration, He gives Balaam the permission he desired: for this is the\nmost natural sense of the words.  Arriving in the territories of Moab,\nand being received with particular distinction by the king, and he\nrepeating in person the promise of the rewards he had before made to him\nby his ambassadors, he seeks, the text says, by _sacrifices_ and\n_enchantments_ (what these were is not to our purpose), to obtain leave\nof God to curse the people; keeping still his resolution, not to do it\nwithout that permission: which not being able to obtain, he had such\nregard to the command of God as to keep this resolution to the last.  The\nsupposition of his being under a supernatural restraint is a mere fiction\nof Philo: he is plainly represented to be under no other force or\nrestraint than the fear of God.  However, he goes on persevering in that\nendeavour, after he had declared that _God had not beheld iniquity in\nJacob_, _neither had he seen perverseness in Israel_; {20} _i.e._, they\nwere a people of virtue and piety, so far as not to have drawn down by\ntheir iniquity that curse which he was soliciting leave to pronounce upon\nthem.  So that the state of Balaam's mind was this: he wanted to do what\nhe knew to be very wicked, and contrary to the express command of God; he\nhad inward checks and restraints which he could not entirely get over; he\ntherefore casts about for ways to reconcile this wickedness with his\nduty.  How great a paradox soever this may appear, as it is indeed a\ncontradiction in terms, it is the very account which the Scripture gives\nus of him.\n\nBut there is a more surprising piece of iniquity yet behind.  Not daring\nin his religious character, as a prophet, to assist the king of Moab, he\nconsiders whether there might not be found some other means of assisting\nhim against that very people, whom he himself by the fear of God was\nrestrained from cursing in words.  One would not think it possible that\nthe weakness, even of religious self-deceit in its utmost excess, could\nhave so poor a distinction, so fond an evasion, to serve itself of.  But\nso it was; and he could think of no other method than to betray the\nchildren of Israel to provoke His wrath, who was their only strength and\ndefence.  The temptation which he pitched upon was that concerning which\nSolomon afterwards observed, that it had _cast down many wounded_; _yea_,\n_many strong men had been slain by it_: and of which he himself was a sad\nexample, when _his wives turned away his heart after other gods_.  This\nsucceeded: the people sin against God; and thus the Prophet's counsel\nbrought on that destruction which he could by no means be prevailed upon\nto assist with the religious ceremony of execration, which the king of\nMoab thought would itself have affected it.  Their crime and punishment\nare related in Deuteronomy {21} and Numbers. {22}  And from the relation\nrepeated in Numbers, {23} it appears, that Balaam was the contriver of\nthe whole matter.  It is also ascribed to him in the Revelation, {24}\nwhere he is said to have _taught Balak to cast a stumbling-block before\nthe children of Israel_.\n\nThis was the man, this Balaam, I say, was the man, who desired to _die\nthe death of the righteous_, and that his _last end might be like his_;\nand this was the state of his mind when he pronounced these words.\n\nSo that the object we have now before us is the most astonishing in the\nworld: a very wicked man, under a deep sense of God and religion,\npersisting still in his wickedness, and preferring the wages of\nunrighteousness, even when he had before him a lively view of death, and\nthat approaching period of his days, which should deprive him of all\nthose advantages for which he was prostituting himself; and likewise a\nprospect, whether certain or uncertain, of a future state of retribution;\nall this joined with an explicit ardent wish that, when he was to leave\nthis world, he might be in the condition of a righteous man.  Good God!\nwhat inconsistency, what perplexity is here!  With what different views\nof things, with what contradictory principles of action, must such a mind\nbe torn and distracted!  It was not unthinking carelessness, by which he\nran on headlong in vice and folly, without ever making a stand to ask\nhimself what he was doing: no; he acted upon the cool motives of interest\nand advantage.  Neither was he totally hard and callous to impressions of\nreligion, what we call abandoned; for he absolutely denied to curse\nIsrael.  When reason assumes her place, when convinced of his duty, when\nhe owns and feels, and is actually under the influence of the divine\nauthority; whilst he is carrying on his views to the grave, the end of\nall temporal greatness; under this sense of things, with the better\ncharacter and more desirable state present--full before him--in his\nthoughts, in his wishes, voluntarily to choose the worse--what fatality\nis here!  Or how otherwise can such a character be explained?  And yet,\nstrange as it may appear, it is not altogether an uncommon one: nay, with\nsome small alterations, and put a little lower, it is applicable to a\nvery considerable part of the world.  For if the reasonable choice be\nseen and acknowledged, and yet men make the unreasonable one, is not this\nthe same contradiction; that very inconsistency, which appeared so\nunaccountable?\n\nTo give some little opening to such characters and behaviour, it is to be\nobserved in general that there is no account to be given in the way of\nreason, of men's so strong attachments to the present world: our hopes\nand fears and pursuits are in degrees beyond all proportion to the known\nvalue of the things they respect.  This may be said without taking into\nconsideration religion and a future state; and when these are considered,\nthe disproportion is infinitely heightened.  Now when men go against\ntheir reason, and contradict a more important interest at a distance, for\none nearer, though of less consideration; if this be the whole of the\ncase, all that can be said is, that strong passions, some kind of brute\nforce within, prevails over the principle of rationality.  However, if\nthis be with a clear, full, and distinct view of the truth of things,\nthen it is doing the utmost violence to themselves, acting in the most\npalpable contradiction to their very nature.  But if there be any such\nthing in mankind as putting half-deceits upon themselves; which there\nplainly is, either by avoiding reflection, or (if they do reflect) by\nreligious equivocation, subterfuges, and palliating matters to\nthemselves; by these means conscience may be laid asleep, and they may go\non in a course of wickedness with less disturbance.  All the various\nturns, doubles, and intricacies in a dishonest heart cannot be unfolded\nor laid open; but that there is somewhat of that kind is manifest, be it\nto be called self-deceit, or by any other name.  Balaam had before his\neyes the authority of God, absolutely forbidding him what he, for the\nsake of a reward, had the strongest inclination to: he was likewise in a\nstate of mind sober enough to consider death and his last end: by these\nconsiderations he was restrained, first from going to the king of Moab,\nand after he did go, from cursing Israel.  But notwithstanding this,\nthere was great wickedness in his heart.  He could not forego the rewards\nof unrighteousness: he therefore first seeks for indulgences, and when\nthese could not be obtained, he sins against the whole meaning, end, and\ndesign of the prohibition, which no consideration in the world could\nprevail with him to go against the letter of.  And surely that impious\ncounsel he gave to Balak against the children of Israel was, considered\nin itself, a greater piece of wickedness than if he had cursed them in\nwords.\n\nIf it be inquired what his situation, his hopes, and fears were, in\nrespect to this his wish; the answer must be, that consciousness of the\nwickedness of his heart must necessarily have destroyed all settled hopes\nof dying the death of the righteous: he could have no calm satisfaction\nin this view of his last end: yet, on the other hand, it is possible that\nthose partial regards to his duty, now mentioned, might keep him from\nperfect despair.\n\nUpon the whole it is manifest that Balaam had the most just and true\nnotions of God and religion; as appears, partly from the original story\nitself, and more plainly from the passage in Micah; where he explains\nreligion to consist in real virtue and real piety, expressly\ndistinguished from superstition, and in terms which most strongly exclude\ndishonesty and falseness of heart.  Yet you see his behaviour: he seeks\nindulgences for plain wickedness, which not being able to obtain he\nglosses over that same wickedness, dresses it up in a new form, in order\nto make it pass off more easily with himself.  That is, he deliberately\ncontrives to deceive and impose upon himself in a matter which he knew to\nbe of the utmost importance.\n\nTo bring these observations home to ourselves: it is too evident that\nmany persons allow themselves in very unjustifiable courses who yet make\ngreat pretences to religion; not to deceive the world, none can be so\nweak as to think this will pass in our age; but from principles, hopes,\nand fears, respecting God and a future state; and go on thus with a sort\nof tranquillity and quiet of mind.  This cannot be upon a thorough\nconsideration, and full resolution, that the pleasures and advantages\nthey propose are to be pursued at all hazards, against reason, against\nthe law of God, and though everlasting destruction is to be the\nconsequence.  This would be doing too great violence upon themselves.  No,\nthey are for making a composition with the Almighty.  These of His\ncommands they will obey; but as to others--why, they will make all the\natonements in their power; the ambitious, the covetous, the dissolute\nman, each in a way which shall not contradict his respective pursuit.\nIndulgences before, which was Balaam's first attempt, though he was not\nso successful in it as to deceive himself, or atonements afterwards, are\nall the same.  And here, perhaps, come in faint hopes that they may, and\nhalf-resolves that they will, one time or other, make a change.\n\nBesides these there are also persons, who, from a more just way of\nconsidering things, see the infinite absurdity of this, of substituting\nsacrifice instead of obedience; there are persons far enough from\nsuperstition, and not without some real sense of God and religion upon\ntheir minds; who yet are guilty of most unjustifiable practices, and go\non with great coolness and command over themselves.  The same dishonesty\nand unsoundness of heart discovers itself in these another way.  In all\ncommon ordinary cases we see intuitively at first view what is our duty,\nwhat is the honest part.  This is the ground of the observation, that the\nfirst thought is often the best.  In these cases doubt and deliberation\nis itself dishonesty, as it was in Balaam upon the second message.  That\nwhich is called considering what is our duty in a particular case is very\noften nothing but endeavouring to explain it away.  Thus those courses,\nwhich, if men would fairly attend to the dictates of their own\nconsciences, they would see to be corruption, excess, oppression,\nuncharitableness; these are refined upon--things were so and so\ncircumstantiated--great difficulties are raised about fixing bounds and\ndegrees, and thus every moral obligation whatever may be evaded.  Here is\nscope, I say, for an unfair mind to explain away every moral obligation\nto itself.  Whether men reflect again upon this internal management and\nartifice, and how explicit they are with themselves, is another question.\nThere are many operations of the mind, many things pass within, which we\nnever reflect upon again; which a bystander, from having frequent\nopportunities of observing us and our conduct, may make shrewd guesses\nat.\n\nThat great numbers are in this way of deceiving themselves is certain.\nThere is scarce a man in the world, who has entirely got over all\nregards, hopes, and fears, concerning God and a future state; and these\napprehensions in the generality, bad as we are, prevail in considerable\ndegrees: yet men will and can be wicked, with calmness and thought; we\nsee they are.  There must therefore be some method of making it sit a\nlittle easy upon their minds; which, in the superstitious, is those\nindulgences and atonements before mentioned, and this self-deceit of\nanother kind in persons of another character.  And both these proceed\nfrom a certain unfairness of mind, a peculiar inward dishonesty; the\ndirect contrary to that simplicity which our Saviour recommends, under\nthe notion of _becoming little children_, as a necessary qualification\nfor our entering into the kingdom of heaven.\n\nBut to conclude: How much soever men differ in the course of life they\nprefer, and in their ways of palliating and excusing their vices to\nthemselves; yet all agree in one thing, desiring to _die the death of the\nrighteous_.  This is surely remarkable.  The observation may be extended\nfurther, and put thus: even without determining what that is which we\ncall guilt or innocence, there is no man but would choose, after having\nhad the pleasure or advantage of a vicious action, to be free of the\nguilt of it, to be in the state of an innocent man.  This shows at least\nthe disturbance and implicit dissatisfaction in vice.  If we inquire into\nthe grounds of it, we shall find it proceeds partly from an immediate\nsense of having done evil, and partly from an apprehension that this\ninward sense shall one time or another be seconded by a higher judgment,\nupon which our whole being depends.  Now to suspend and drown this sense,\nand these apprehensions, be it by the hurry of business or of pleasure,\nor by superstition, or moral equivocations, this is in a manner one and\nthe same, and makes no alteration at all in the nature of our case.\nThings and actions are what they are, and the consequences of them will\nbe what they will be: why, then, should we desire to be deceived?  As we\nare reasonable creatures, and have any regard to ourselves, we ought to\nlay these things plainly and honestly before our mind, and upon this, act\nas you please, as you think most fit: make that choice, and prefer that\ncourse of life, which you can justify to yourselves, and which sits most\neasy upon your own mind.  It will immediately appear that vice cannot be\nthe happiness, but must upon the whole be the misery, of such a creature\nas man; a moral, an accountable agent.  Superstitious observances, self-\ndeceit though of a more refined sort, will not in reality at all mend\nmatters with us.  And the result of the whole can be nothing else, but\nthat with simplicity and fairness we _keep innocency_, _and take heed\nunto the thing that is right_; _for this alone shall bring a man peace at\nthe last_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XI. {24a}  UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.\nPREACHED ON ADVENT SUNDAY.\n\n\n   ROMANS xiii. 9.\n\n   _And if there be any other commandment_, _it is briefly comprehended\n   in this saying_, _namely_, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_.\n\nIt is commonly observed that there is a disposition in men to complain of\nthe viciousness and corruption of the age in which they live as greater\nthan that of former ones; which is usually followed with this further\nobservation, that mankind has been in that respect much the same in all\ntimes.  Now, not to determine whether this last be not contradicted by\nthe accounts of history; thus much can scarce be doubted, that vice and\nfolly takes different turns, and some particular kinds of it are more\nopen and avowed in some ages than in others; and, I suppose, it may be\nspoken of as very much the distinction of the present to profess a\ncontracted spirit, and greater regards to self-interest, than appears to\nhave been done formerly.  Upon this account it seems worth while to\ninquire whether private interest is likely to be promoted in proportion\nto the degree in which self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all\nother principles; _or whether the contracted affection may not possibly\nbe so prevalent as to disappoint itself_, _and even contradict its own\nand private good_.\n\nAnd since, further, there is generally thought to be some peculiar kind\nof contrariety between self-love and the love of our neighbour, between\nthe pursuit of public and of private good; insomuch that when you are\nrecommending one of these, you are supposed to be speaking against the\nother; and from hence arises a secret prejudice against, and frequently\nopen scorn of, all talk of public spirit and real good-will to our fellow-\ncreatures; it will be necessary to _inquire what respect benevolence hath\nto self-love_, _and the pursuit of private interest to the pursuit of\npublic_: or whether there be anything of that peculiar inconsistence and\ncontrariety between them over and above what there is between self-love\nand other passions and particular affections, and their respective\npursuits.\n\nThese inquiries, it is hoped, may be favourably attended to; for there\nshall be all possible concessions made to the favourite passion, which\nhath so much allowed to it, and whose cause is so universally pleaded: it\nshall be treated with the utmost tenderness and concern for its\ninterests.\n\nIn order to do this, as well as to determine the forementioned questions,\nit will be necessary to _consider the nature_, _the object_, _and end of\nthat self-love_, _as distinguished from other principles or affections in\nthe mind_, _and their respective objects_.\n\nEvery man hath a general desire of his own happiness; and likewise a\nvariety of particular affections, passions, and appetites to particular\nexternal objects.  The former proceeds from, or is, self-love; and seems\ninseparable from all sensible creatures, who can reflect upon themselves\nand their own interest or happiness so as to have that interest an object\nto their minds; what is to be said of the latter is, that they proceed\nfrom or together make up that particular nature, according to which man\nis made.  The object the former pursues is somewhat internal--our own\nhappiness, enjoyment, satisfaction; whether we have, or have not, a\ndistinct particular perception what it is, or wherein it consists: the\nobjects of the latter are this or that particular external thing, which\nthe affections tend towards, and of which it hath always a particular\nidea or perception.  The principle we call self-love never seeks anything\nexternal for the sake of the thing, but only as a means of happiness or\ngood: particular affections rest in the external things themselves.  One\nbelongs to man as a reasonable creature reflecting upon his own interest\nor happiness.  The other, though quite distinct from reason, are as much\na part of human nature.\n\nThat all particular appetites and passions are towards _external things\nthemselves_, distinct from the _pleasure arising from them_, is\nmanifested from hence; that there could not be this pleasure, were it not\nfor that prior suitableness between the object and the passion: there\ncould be no enjoyment or delight from one thing more than another, from\neating food more than from swallowing a stone, if there were not an\naffection or appetite to one thing more than another.\n\nEvery particular affection, even the love of our neighbour, is as really\nour own affection as self-love; and the pleasure arising from its\ngratification is as much my own pleasure as the pleasure self-love would\nhave from knowing I myself should be happy some time hence would be my\nown pleasure.  And if, because every particular affection is a man's own,\nand the pleasure arising from its gratification his own pleasure, or\npleasure to himself, such particular affection must be called self-love;\naccording to this way of speaking, no creature whatever can possibly act\nbut merely from self-love; and every action and every affection whatever\nis to be resolved up into this one principle.  But then this is not the\nlanguage of mankind; or if it were, we should want words to express the\ndifference between the principle of an action, proceeding from cool\nconsideration that it will be to my own advantage; and an action, suppose\nof revenge or of friendship, by which a man runs upon certain ruin, to do\nevil or good to another.  It is manifest the principles of these actions\nare totally different, and so want different words to be distinguished\nby; all that they agree in is that they both proceed from, and are done\nto gratify, an inclination in a man's self.  But the principle or\ninclination in one case is self-love; in the other, hatred or love of\nanother.  There is then a distinction between the cool principle of self-\nlove, or general desire of our own happiness, as one part of our nature,\nand one principle of action; and the particular affections towards\nparticular external objects, as another part of our nature, and another\nprinciple of action.  How much soever therefore is to be allowed to self-\nlove, yet it cannot be allowed to be the whole of our inward\nconstitution; because, you see, there are other parts or principles which\ncome into it.\n\nFurther, private happiness or good is all which self-love can make us\ndesire, or be concerned about: in having this consists its gratification:\nit is an affection to ourselves; a regard to our own interest, happiness,\nand private good: and in the proportion a man hath this, he is\ninterested, or a lover of himself.  Let this be kept in mind; because\nthere is commonly, as I shall presently have occasion to observe, another\nsense put upon these words.  On the other hand, particular affections\ntend towards particular external things: these are their objects: having\nthese is their end: in this consists their gratification: no matter\nwhether it be, or be not, upon the whole, our interest or happiness.  An\naction done from the former of these principles is called an interested\naction.  An action proceeding from any of the latter has its denomination\nof passionate, ambitious, friendly, revengeful, or any other, from the\nparticular appetite or affection from which it proceeds.  Thus self-love\nas one part of human nature, and the several particular principles as the\nother part, are, themselves, their objects and ends, stated and shown.\n\nFrom hence it will be easy to see how far, and in what ways, each of\nthese can contribute and be subservient to the private good of the\nindividual.  Happiness does not consist in self-love.  The desire of\nhappiness is no more the thing itself than the desire of riches is the\npossession or enjoyment of them.  People might love themselves with the\nmost entire and unbounded affection, and yet be extremely miserable.\nNeither can self-love any way help them out, but by setting them on work\nto get rid of the causes of their misery, to gain or make use of those\nobjects which are by nature adapted to afford satisfaction.  Happiness or\nsatisfaction consists only in the enjoyment of those objects which are by\nnature suited to our several particular appetites, passions, and\naffections.  So that if self-love wholly engrosses us, and leaves no room\nfor any other principle, there can be absolutely no such thing at all as\nhappiness or enjoyment of any kind whatever; since happiness consists in\nthe gratification of particular passions, which supposes the having of\nthem.  Self-love then does not constitute _this_ or _that_ to be our\ninterest or good; but, our interest or good being constituted by nature\nand supposed, self-love only puts us upon obtaining and securing it.\nTherefore, if it be possible that self-love may prevail and exert itself\nin a degree or manner which is not subservient to this end; then it will\nnot follow that our interest will be promoted in proportion to the degree\nin which that principle engrosses us, and prevails over others.  Nay,\nfurther, the private and contracted affection, when it is not subservient\nto this end, private good may, for anything that appears, have a direct\ncontrary tendency and effect.  And if we will consider the matter, we\nshall see that it often really has.  _Disengagement_ is absolutely\nnecessary to enjoyment; and a person may have so steady and fixed an eye\nupon his own interest, whatever he places it in, as may hinder him from\n_attending_ to many gratifications within his reach, which others have\ntheir minds _free_ and _open_ to.  Over-fondness for a child is not\ngenerally thought to be for its advantage; and, if there be any guess to\nbe made from appearances, surely that character we call selfish is not\nthe most promising for happiness.  Such a temper may plainly be, and\nexert itself in a degree and manner which may give unnecessary and\nuseless solicitude and anxiety, in a degree and manner which may prevent\nobtaining the means and materials of enjoyment, as well as the making use\nof them.  Immoderate self-love does very ill consult its own interest:\nand, how much soever a paradox it may appear, it is certainly true that\neven from self-love we should endeavour to get over all inordinate regard\nto and consideration of ourselves.  Every one of our passions and\naffections hath its natural stint and bound, which may easily be\nexceeded; whereas our enjoyments can possibly be but in a determinate\nmeasure and degree.  Therefore such excess of the affection, since it\ncannot procure any enjoyment, must in all cases be useless; but is\ngenerally attended with inconveniences, and often is downright pain and\nmisery.  This holds as much with regard to self-love as to all other\naffections.  The natural degree of it, so far as it sets us on work to\ngain and make use of the materials of satisfaction, may be to our real\nadvantage; but beyond or besides this, it is in several respects an\ninconvenience and disadvantage.  Thus it appears that private interest is\nso far from being likely to be promoted in proportion to the degree in\nwhich self-love engrosses us, and prevails over all other principles,\nthat _the contracted affection may be so prevalent as to disappoint\nitself_, _and even contradict its own and private good_.\n\n\"But who, except the most sordidly covetous, ever thought there was any\nrivalship between the love of greatness, honour, power, or between\nsensual appetites and self-love?  No, there is a perfect harmony between\nthem.  It is by means of these particular appetites and affections that\nself-love is gratified in enjoyment, happiness, and satisfaction.  The\ncompetition and rivalship is between self-love and the love of our\nneighbour: that affection which leads us out of ourselves, makes us\nregardless of our own interest, and substitute that of another in its\nstead.\"  Whether, then, there be any peculiar competition and contrariety\nin this case shall now be considered.\n\nSelf-love and interestedness was stated to consist in or be an affection\nto ourselves, a regard to our own private good: it is therefore distinct\nfrom benevolence, which is an affection to the good of our\nfellow-creatures.  But that benevolence is distinct from, that is, not\nthe same thing with self-love, is no reason for its being looked upon\nwith any peculiar suspicion; because every principle whatever, by means\nof which self-love is gratified, is distinct from it; and all things\nwhich are distinct from each other are equally so.  A man has an\naffection or aversion to another: that one of these tends to, and is\ngratified by, doing good, that the other tends to, and is gratified by,\ndoing harm, does not in the least alter the respect which either one or\nthe other of these inward feelings has to self-love.  We use the word\n_property_ so as to exclude any other persons having an interest in that\nof which we say a particular man has the property.  And we often use the\nword _selfish_ so as to exclude in the same manner all regards to the\ngood of others.  But the cases are not parallel: for though that\nexclusion is really part of the idea of property; yet such positive\nexclusion, or bringing this peculiar disregard to the good of others into\nthe idea of self-love, is in reality adding to the idea, or changing it\nfrom what it was before stated to consist in, namely, in an affection to\nourselves. {25}  This being the whole idea of self-love, it can no\notherwise exclude good-will or love of others, than merely by not\nincluding it, no otherwise, than it excludes love of arts or reputation,\nor of anything else.  Neither on the other hand does benevolence, any\nmore than love of arts or of reputation exclude self-love.  Love of our\nneighbour, then, has just the same respect to, is no more distant from,\nself-love, than hatred of our neighbour, or than love or hatred of\nanything else.  Thus the principles, from which men rush upon certain\nruin for the destruction of an enemy, and for the preservation of a\nfriend, have the same respect to the private affection, and are equally\ninterested, or equally disinterested; and it is of no avail whether they\nare said to be one or the other.  Therefore to those who are shocked to\nhear virtue spoken of as disinterested, it may be allowed that it is\nindeed absurd to speak thus of it; unless hatred, several particular\ninstances of vice, and all the common affections and aversions in\nmankind, are acknowledged to be disinterested too.  Is there any less\ninconsistence between the love of inanimate things, or of creatures\nmerely sensitive, and self-love, than between self-love and the love of\nour neighbour?  Is desire of and delight in the happiness of another any\nmore a diminution of self-love than desire of and delight in the esteem\nof another?  They are both equally desire of and delight in somewhat\nexternal to ourselves; either both or neither are so.  The object of self-\nlove is expressed in the term self; and every appetite of sense, and\nevery particular affection of the heart, are equally interested or\ndisinterested, because the objects of them all are equally self or\nsomewhat else.  Whatever ridicule therefore the mention of a\ndisinterested principle or action may be supposed to lie open to, must,\nupon the matter being thus stated, relate to ambition, and every appetite\nand particular affection as much as to benevolence.  And indeed all the\nridicule, and all the grave perplexity, of which this subject hath had\nits full share, is merely from words.  The most intelligible way of\nspeaking of it seems to be this: that self-love and the actions done in\nconsequence of it (for these will presently appear to be the same as to\nthis question) are interested; that particular affections towards\nexternal objects, and the actions done in consequence of those affections\nare not so.  But every one is at liberty to use words as he pleases.  All\nthat is here insisted upon is that ambition, revenge, benevolence, all\nparticular passions whatever, and the actions they produce, are equally\ninterested or disinterested.\n\nThus it appears that there is no peculiar contrariety between self-love\nand benevolence; no greater competition between these than between any\nother particular affections and self-love.  This relates to the\naffections themselves.  Let us now see whether there be any peculiar\ncontrariety between the respective courses of life which these affections\nlead to; whether there be any greater competition between the pursuit of\nprivate and of public good, than between any other particular pursuits\nand that of private good.\n\nThere seems no other reason to suspect that there is any such peculiar\ncontrariety, but only that the course of action which benevolence leads\nto has a more direct tendency to promote the good of others, than that\ncourse of action which love of reputation suppose, or any other\nparticular affection leads to.  But that any affection tends to the\nhappiness of another does not hinder its tending to one's own happiness\ntoo.  That others enjoy the benefit of the air and the light of the sun\ndoes not hinder but that these are as much one's own private advantage\nnow as they would be if we had the property of them exclusive of all\nothers.  So a pursuit which tends to promote the good of another, yet may\nhave as great tendency to promote private interest, as a pursuit which\ndoes not tend to the good of another at all, or which is mischievous to\nhim.  All particular affections whatever, resentment, benevolence, love\nof arts, equally lead to a course of action for their own gratification;\n_i.e._, the gratification of ourselves; and the gratification of each\ngives delight: so far, then, it is manifest they have all the same\nrespect to private interest.  Now take into consideration, further,\nconcerning these three pursuits, that the end of the first is the harm,\nof the second, the good of another, of the last, somewhat indifferent;\nand is there any necessity that these additional considerations should\nalter the respect, which we before saw these three pursuits had to\nprivate interest, or render any one of them less conducive to it, than\nany other?  Thus one man's affection is to honour as his end; in order to\nobtain which he thinks no pains too great.  Suppose another, with such a\nsingularity of mind, as to have the same affection to public good as his\nend, which he endeavours with the same labour to obtain.  In case of\nsuccess, surely the man of benevolence hath as great enjoyment as the man\nof ambition; they both equally having the end their affections, in the\nsame degree, tended to; but in case of disappointment, the benevolent man\nhas clearly the advantage; since endeavouring to do good, considered as a\nvirtuous pursuit, is gratified by its own consciousness, _i.e._, is in a\ndegree its own reward.\n\nAnd as to these two, or benevolence and any other particular passions\nwhatever, considered in a further view, as forming a general temper,\nwhich more or less disposes us for enjoyment of all the common blessings\nof life, distinct from their own gratification, is benevolence less the\ntemper of tranquillity and freedom than ambition or covetousness?  Does\nthe benevolent man appear less easy with himself from his love to his\nneighbour?  Does he less relish his being?  Is there any peculiar gloom\nseated on his face?  Is his mind less open to entertainment, to any\nparticular gratification?  Nothing is more manifest than that being in\ngood humour, which is benevolence whilst it lasts, is itself the temper\nof satisfaction and enjoyment.\n\nSuppose then, a man sitting down to consider how he might become most\neasy to himself, and attain the greatest pleasure he could, all that\nwhich is his real natural happiness.  This can only consist in the\nenjoyment of those objects which are by nature adapted to our several\nfaculties.  These particular enjoyments make up the sum total of our\nhappiness, and they are supposed to arise from riches, honours, and the\ngratification of sensual appetites.  Be it so; yet none profess\nthemselves so completely happy in these enjoyments, but that there is\nroom left in the mind for others, if they were presented to them: nay,\nthese, as much as they engage us, are not thought so high, but that human\nnature is capable even of greater.  Now there have been persons in all\nages who have professed that they found satisfaction in the exercise of\ncharity, in the love of their neighbour, in endeavouring to promote the\nhappiness of all they had to do with, and in the pursuit of what is just\nand right and good as the general bent of their mind and end of their\nlife; and that doing an action of baseness or cruelty would be as great\nviolence to _their_ self, as much breaking in upon their nature, as any\nexternal force.  Persons of this character would add, if they might be\nheard, that they consider themselves as acting in the view of an Infinite\nBeing, who is in a much higher sense the object of reverence and of love,\nthan all the world besides; and therefore they could have no more\nenjoyment from a wicked action done under His eye than the persons to\nwhom they are making their apology could if all mankind were the\nspectators of it; and that the satisfaction of approving themselves to\nhis unerring judgment, to whom they thus refer all their actions, is a\nmore continued settled satisfaction than any this world can afford; as\nalso that they have, no less than others, a mind free and open to all the\ncommon innocent gratifications of it, such as they are.  And if we go no\nfurther, does there appear any absurdity in this?  Will any one take upon\nhim to say that a man cannot find his account in this general course of\nlife as much as in the most unbounded ambition, and the excesses of\npleasure?  Or that such a person has not consulted so well for himself,\nfor the satisfaction and peace of his own mind, as the ambitious or\ndissolute man?  And though the consideration that God himself will in the\nend justify their taste, and support their cause, is not formally to be\ninsisted upon here, yet thus much comes in, that all enjoyments whatever\nare much more clear and unmixed from the assurance that they will end\nwell.  Is it certain, then, that there is nothing in these pretensions to\nhappiness? especially when there are not wanting persons who have\nsupported themselves with satisfactions of this kind in sickness,\npoverty, disgrace, and in the very pangs of death; whereas it is manifest\nall other enjoyments fail in these circumstances.  This surely looks\nsuspicions of having somewhat in it.  Self-love, methinks, should be\nalarmed.  May she not possibly pass over greater pleasures than those she\nis so wholly taken up with?\n\nThe short of the matter is no more than this.  Happiness consists in the\ngratification of certain affections, appetites, passions, with objects\nwhich are by nature adapted to them.  Self-love may indeed set us on work\nto gratify these, but happiness or enjoyment has no immediate connection\nwith self-love, but arises from such gratification alone.  Love of our\nneighbour is one of those affections.  This, considered as a _virtuous\nprinciple_, is gratified by a consciousness of _endeavouring_ to promote\nthe good of others, but considered as a natural affection, its\ngratification consists in the actual accomplishment of this endeavour.\nNow indulgence or gratification of this affection, whether in that\nconsciousness or this accomplishment, has the same respect to interest as\nindulgence of any other affection; they equally proceed from or do not\nproceed from self-love, they equally include or equally exclude this\nprinciple.  Thus it appears, that _benevolence and the pursuit of public\ngood hath at least as great respect to self-love and the pursuit of\nprivate good as any other particular passions_, _and their respective\npursuits_.\n\nNeither is covetousness, whether as a temper or pursuit, any exception to\nthis.  For if by covetousness is meant the desire and pursuit of riches\nfor their own sake, without any regard to, or consideration of, the uses\nof them, this hath as little to do with self-love as benevolence hath.\nBut by this word is usually meant, not such madness and total distraction\nof mind, but immoderate affection to and pursuit of riches as possessions\nin order to some further end, namely, satisfaction, interest, or good.\nThis, therefore, is not a particular affection or particular pursuit, but\nit is the general principle of self-love, and the general pursuit of our\nown interest, for which reason the word _selfish_ is by every one\nappropriated to this temper and pursuit.  Now as it is ridiculous to\nassert that self-love and the love of our neighbour are the same, so\nneither is it asserted that following these different affections hath the\nsame tendency and respect to our own interest.  The comparison is not\nbetween self-love and the love of our neighbour, between pursuit of our\nown interest and the interest of others, but between the several\nparticular affections in human nature towards external objects, as one\npart of the comparison, and the one particular affection to the good of\nour neighbour as the other part of it: and it has been shown that all\nthese have the same respect to self-love and private interest.\n\nThere is indeed frequently an inconsistence or interfering between self-\nlove or private interest and the several particular appetites, passions,\naffections, or the pursuits they lead to.  But this competition or\ninterfering is merely accidental, and happens much oftener between pride,\nrevenge, sensual gratifications, and private interest, than between\nprivate interest and benevolence.  For nothing is more common than to see\nmen give themselves up to a passion or an affection to their known\nprejudice and ruin, and in direct contradiction to manifest and real\ninterest, and the loudest calls of self-love: whereas the seeming\ncompetitions and interfering, between benevolence and private interest,\nrelate much more to the materials or means of enjoyment than to enjoyment\nitself.  There is often an interfering in the former when there is none\nin the latter.  Thus as to riches: so much money as a man gives away, so\nmuch less will remain in his possession.  Here is a real interfering.  But\nthough a man cannot possibly give without lessening his fortune, yet\nthere are multitudes might give without lessening their own enjoyment,\nbecause they may have more than they can turn to any real use or\nadvantage to themselves.  Thus the more thought and time any one employs\nabout the interests and good of others, he must necessarily have less to\nattend his own: but he may have so ready and large a supply of his own\nwants, that such thought might be really useless to himself, though of\ngreat service and assistance to others.\n\nThe general mistake, that there is some greater inconsistence between\nendeavouring to promote the good of another and self-interest, than\nbetween self-interest and pursuing anything else, seems, as hath already\nbeen hinted, to arise from our notions of property, and to be carried on\nby this property's being supposed to be itself our happiness or good.\nPeople are so very much taken up with this one subject, that they seem\nfrom it to have formed a general way of thinking, which they apply to\nother things that they have nothing to do with.  Hence in a confused and\nslight way it might well be taken for granted that another's having no\ninterest in an affection (_i.e._, his good not being the object of it)\nrenders, as one may speak, the proprietor's interest in it greater; and\nthat if another had an interest in it this would render his less, or\noccasion that such affection could not be so friendly to self-love, or\nconducive to private good, as an affection or pursuit which has not a\nregard to the good of another.  This, I say, might be taken for granted,\nwhilst it was not attended to, that the object of every particular\naffection is equally somewhat external to ourselves, and whether it be\nthe good of another person, or whether it be any other external thing,\nmakes no alteration with regard to its being one's own affection, and the\ngratification of it one's own private enjoyment.  And so far as it is\ntaken for granted that barely having the means and materials of enjoyment\nis what constitutes interest and happiness; that our interest or good\nconsists in possessions themselves, in having the property of riches,\nhouses, lands, gardens, not in the enjoyment of them; so far it will even\nmore strongly be taken for granted, in the way already explained, that an\naffection's conducing to the good of another must even necessarily\noccasion it to conduce less to private good, if not to be positively\ndetrimental to it.  For, if property and happiness are one and the same\nthing, as by increasing the property of another you lessen your own\nproperty, so by promoting the happiness of another you must lessen your\nown happiness.  But whatever occasioned the mistake, I hope it has been\nfully proved to be one, as it has been proved, that there is no peculiar\nrivalship or competition between self-love and benevolence: that as there\nmay be a competition between these two, so there many also between any\nparticular affection whatever and self-love; that every particular\naffection, benevolence among the rest, is subservient to self-love by\nbeing the instrument of private enjoyment; and that in one respect\nbenevolence contributes more to private interest, _i.e._, enjoyment or\nsatisfaction, than any other of the particular common affections, as it\nis in a degree its own gratification.\n\nAnd to all these things may be added that religion, from whence arises\nour strongest obligation to benevolence, is so far from disowning the\nprinciple of self-love, that it often addresses itself to that very\nprinciple, and always to the mind in that state when reason presides, and\nthere can no access be had to the understanding, but by convincing men\nthat the course of life we would persuade them to is not contrary to\ntheir interest.  It may be allowed, without any prejudice to the cause of\nvirtue and religion, that our ideas of happiness and misery are of all\nour ideas the nearest and most important to us; that they will, nay, if\nyou please, that they ought to prevail over those of order, and beauty,\nand harmony, and proportion, if there should ever be, as it is impossible\nthere ever should be, any inconsistence between them, though these last,\ntoo, as expressing the fitness of actions, are real as truth itself.  Let\nit be allowed, though virtue or moral rectitude does indeed consist in\naffection to and pursuit of what is right and good, as such, yet, that\nwhen we sit down in a cool hour, we can neither justify to ourselves this\nor any other pursuit, till we are convinced that it will be for our\nhappiness, or at least not contrary to it.\n\nCommon reason and humanity will have some influence upon mankind,\nwhatever becomes of speculations; but, so far as the interests of virtue\ndepend upon the theory of it being secured from open scorn, so far its\nvery being in the world depends upon its appearing to have no contrariety\nto private interest and self-love.  The foregoing observations,\ntherefore, it is hoped, may have gained a little ground in favour of the\nprecept before us, the particular explanation of which shall be the\nsubject of the next discourse.\n\nI will conclude at present with observing the peculiar obligation which\nwe are under to virtue and religion, as enforced in the verses following\nthe text, in the epistle for the day, from our Saviour's coming into the\nworld.  _The night is far spent_, _the day is at hand_; _let us therefore\ncast off the works of darkness_, _and let us put on the armour of light_,\n&c.  The meaning and force of which exhortation is, that Christianity\nlays us under new obligations to a good life, as by it the will of God is\nmore clearly revealed, and as it affords additional motives to the\npractice of it, over and above those which arise out of the nature of\nvirtue and vice, I might add, as our Saviour has set us a perfect example\nof goodness in our own nature.  Now love and charity is plainly the thing\nin which He hath placed His religion; in which, therefore, as we have any\npretence to the name of Christians, we must place ours.  He hath at once\nenjoined it upon us by way of command with peculiar force, and by His\nexample, as having undertaken the work of our salvation out of pure love\nand goodwill to mankind.  The endeavour to set home this example upon our\nminds is a very proper employment of this season, which is bringing on\nthe festival of His birth, which as it may teach us many excellent\nlessons of humility, resignation, and obedience to the will of God, so\nthere is none it recommends with greater authority, force, and advantage\nthan this love and charity, since it was _for us men_, _and for our\nsalvation_, that _He came down from heaven_, _and was incarnate_, _and\nwas made man_, that He might teach us our duty, and more especially that\nHe might enforce the practice of it, reform mankind, and finally bring us\nto that _eternal salvation_, of which _He is the Author to all those that\nobey Him_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XII.  UPON THE LOVE OF OUR NEIGHBOUR.\n\n\n   ROM. xiii. 9.\n\n   _And if there be any other commandment_, _it is briefly comprehended\n   in this saying_, _namely_, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_.\n\nHaving already removed the prejudices against public spirit, or the love\nof our neighbour, on the side of private interest and self-love, I\nproceed to the particular explanation of the precept before us, by\nshowing, _Who is our neighbour_: _In what sense we are required to love\nhim as ourselves_; _The influence such love would have upon our behaviour\nin life_; and lastly, _How this commandment comprehends in it all\nothers_.\n\nI.  The objects and due extent of this affection will be understood by\nattending to the nature of it, and to the nature and circumstances of\nmankind in this world.  The love of our neighbour is the same with\ncharity, benevolence, or goodwill: it is an affection to the good and\nhappiness of our fellow-creatures.  This implies in it a disposition to\nproduce happiness, and this is the simple notion of goodness, which\nappears so amiable wherever we meet with it.  From hence it is easy to\nsee that the perfection of goodness consists in love to the whole\nuniverse.  This is the perfection of Almighty God.\n\nBut as man is so much limited in his capacity, as so small a part of the\nCreation comes under his notice and influence, and as we are not used to\nconsider things in so general a way, it is not to be thought of that the\nuniverse should be the object of benevolence to such creatures as we are.\nThus in that precept of our Saviour, _Be ye perfect_, _even as your\nFather_, _which is in heaven_, _is perfect_, {26} the perfection of the\ndivine goodness is proposed to our imitation as it is promiscuous, and\nextends to the evil as well as the good; not as it is absolutely\nuniversal, imitation of it in this respect being plainly beyond us.  The\nobject is too vast.  For this reason moral writers also have substituted\na less general object for our benevolence, mankind.  But this likewise is\nan object too general, and very much out of our view.  Therefore persons\nmore practical have, instead of mankind, put our country, and made the\nprinciple of virtue, of human virtue, to consist in the entire uniform\nlove of our country: and this is what we call a public spirit, which in\nmen of public stations is the character of a patriot.  But this is\nspeaking to the upper part of the world.  Kingdoms and governments are\nlarge, and the sphere of action of far the greatest part of mankind is\nmuch narrower than the government they live under: or however, common men\ndo not consider their actions as affecting the whole community of which\nthey are members.  There plainly is wanting a less general and nearer\nobject of benevolence for the bulk of men than that of their country.\nTherefore the Scripture, not being a book of theory and speculation, but\na plain rule of life for mankind, has with the utmost possible propriety\nput the principle of virtue upon the love of our neighbour, which is that\npart of the universe, that part of mankind, that part of our country,\nwhich comes under our immediate notice, acquaintance, and influence, and\nwith which we have to do.\n\nThis is plainly the true account or reason why our Saviour places the\nprinciple of virtue in the love of our _neighbour_, and the account\nitself shows who are comprehended under that relation.\n\nII.  Let us now consider in what sense we are commanded to love our\nneighbour _as ourselves_.\n\nThis precept, in its first delivery by our Saviour, is thus\nintroduced:--_Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart_,\n_with all thy soul_, _and with all thy strength_; _and thy neighbour as\nthyself_.  These very different manners of expression do not lead our\nthoughts to the same measure or degree of love, common to both objects,\nbut to one peculiar to each.  Supposing, then, which is to be supposed, a\ndistinct meaning and propriety in the words, _as thyself_; the precept we\nare considering will admit of any of these senses: that we bear the _same\nkind_ of affection to our neighbour as we do to ourselves, or, that the\nlove we bear to our neighbour should have _some certain proportion or\nother_ to self-love: or, lastly, that it should bear the particular\nproportion of _equality_, that _it be in the same degree_.\n\nFirst, The precept may be understood as requiring only that we have the\n_same kind_ of affection to our fellow-creatures as to ourselves; that,\nas every man has the principle of self-love, which disposes him to avoid\nmisery, and consult his own happiness, so we should cultivate the\naffection of goodwill to our neighbour, and that it should influence us\nto have the same kind of regard to him.  This at least must be commanded,\nand this will not only prevent our being injurious to him, but will also\nput us upon promoting his good.  There are blessings in life, which we\nshare in common with others, peace, plenty, freedom, healthful seasons.\nBut real benevolence to our fellow-creatures would give us the notion of\na common interest in a stricter sense, for in the degree we love another,\nhis interest, his joys and sorrows, are our own.  It is from self-love\nthat we form the notion of private good, and consider it is our own: love\nof our neighbour would teach us thus to appropriate to ourselves his good\nand welfare; to consider ourselves as having a real share in his\nhappiness.  Thus the principle of benevolence would be an advocate within\nour own breasts, to take care of the interests of our fellow-creatures in\nall the interfering and competitions which cannot but be, from the\nimperfection of our nature, and the state we are in.  It would likewise,\nin some measure, lessen that interfering, and hinder men from forming so\nstrong a notion of private good, exclusive of the good of others, as we\ncommonly do.  Thus, as the private affection makes us in a peculiar\nmanner sensible of humanity, justice or injustice, when exercised towards\nourselves, love of our neighbour would give us the same kind of\nsensibility in his behalf.  This would be the greatest security of our\nuniform obedience to that most equitable rule.  _Whatsoever ye would that\nmen should do unto you_, _do ye even so unto them_.\n\nAll this is indeed no more than that we should have a real love to our\nneighbour; but then, which is to be observed, the words _as thyself_\nexpress this in the most distinct manner, and determine the precept to\nrelate to the affection itself.  The advantage which this principle of\nbenevolence has over other remote considerations is, that it is itself\nthe temper of virtue, and likewise that it is the chief, nay, the only\neffectual security of our performing the several offices of kindness we\nowe to our fellow-creatures.  When from distant considerations men\nresolve upon any thing to which they have no liking, or perhaps an\naverseness, they are perpetually finding out evasions and excuses, which\nneed never be wanting, if people look for them: and they equivocate with\nthemselves in the plainest cases in the world.  This may be in respect to\nsingle determinate acts of virtue, but it comes in much more, where the\nobligation is to a general course of behaviour, and most of all, if it be\nsuch as cannot be reduced to fixed determinate rules.  This observation\nmay account for the diversity of the expression in that known passage of\nthe prophet Micah, _to do justly_, _and to love mercy_.  A man's heart\nmust be formed to humanity and benevolence, he must _love mercy_,\notherwise he will not act mercifully in any settled course of behaviour.\nAs consideration of the future sanctions of religion is our only security\nof preserving in our duty, in cases of great temptation: so to get our\nheart and temper formed to a love and liking of what is good is\nabsolutely necessary in order to our behaving rightly in the familiar and\ndaily intercourses amongst mankind.\n\nSecondly, The precept before us may be understood to require that we love\nour neighbour in some certain _proportion_ or other, _according as_ we\nlove ourselves.  And indeed a man's character cannot be determined by the\nlove he bears to his neighbour, considered absolutely, but the proportion\nwhich this bears to self-love, whether it be attended to or not, is the\nchief thing which forms the character and influences the actions.  For,\nas the form of the body is a composition of various parts, so likewise\nour inward structure is not simple or uniform, but a composition of\nvarious passions, appetites, affections, together with rationality,\nincluding in this last both the discernment of what is right, and a\ndisposition to regulate ourselves by it.  There is greater variety of\nparts in what we call a character than there are features in a face, and\nthe morality of that is no more determined by one part than the beauty or\ndeformity of this is by one single feature: each is to be judged of by\nall the parts or features, not taken singly, but together.  In the inward\nframe the various passions, appetites, affections, stand in different\nrespects to each other.  The principles in our mind may be contradictory,\nor checks and allays only, or incentives and assistants to each other.\nAnd principles, which in their nature have no kind of contrariety or\naffinity, may yet accidentally be each other's allays or incentives.\n\nFrom hence it comes to pass, that though we were able to look into the\ninward contexture of the heart, and see with the greatest exactness in\nwhat degree any one principle is in a particular man, we could not from\nthence determine how far that principle would go towards forming the\ncharacter, or what influence it would have upon the actions, unless we\ncould likewise discern what other principles prevailed in him, and see\nthe proportion which that one bears to the others.  Thus, though two men\nshould have the affection of compassion in the same degree exactly, yet\none may have the principle of resentment or of ambition so strong in him\nas to prevail over that of compassion, and prevent its having any\ninfluence upon his actions, so that he may deserve the character of a\nhard or cruel man, whereas the other having compassion in just the same\ndegree only, yet having resentment or ambition in a lower degree, his\ncompassion may prevail over them, so as to influence his actions, and to\ndenominate his temper compassionate.  So that, how strange soever it may\nappear to people who do not attend to the thing, yet it is quite manifest\nthat, when we say one man is more resenting or compassionate than\nanother, this does not necessarily imply that one has the principle of\nresentment or of compassion stronger than the other.  For if the\nproportion which resentment or compassion bears to other inward\nprinciples is greater in one than in the other, this is itself sufficient\nto denominate one more resenting or compassionate than the other.\n\nFurther, the whole system, as I may speak, of affections (including\nrationality), which constitute the heart, as this word is used in\nScripture and on moral subjects, are each and all of them stronger in\nsome than in others.  Now the proportion which the two general\naffections, benevolence and self-love, bear to each other, according to\nthis interpretation of the text, demonstrates men's character as to\nvirtue.  Suppose, then, one man to have the principle of benevolence in a\nhigher degree than another; it will not follow from hence that his\ngeneral temper or character or actions will be more benevolent than the\nother's.  For he may have self-love in such a degree as quite to prevail\nover benevolence, so that it may have no influence at all upon his\naction, whereas benevolence in the other person, though in a lower\ndegree, may yet be the strongest principle in his heart, and strong\nenough to be the guide of his actions, so as to denominate him a good and\nvirtuous man.  The case is here as in scales: it is not one weight\nconsidered in itself, which determines whether the scale shall ascend or\ndescend, but this depends upon the proportion which that one weight hath\nto the other.\n\nIt being thus manifest that the influence which benevolence has upon our\nactions, and how far it goes towards forming our character, is not\ndetermined by the degree itself of this principle in our mind, but by the\nproportion it has to self-love and other principles: a comparison also\nbeing made in the text between self-love and the love of our neighbour;\nthese joint considerations afforded sufficient occasion for treating here\nof that proportion.  It plainly is implied in the precept, though it\nshould be questioned, whether it be the exact meaning of the words, as\n_thyself_.\n\nLove of our neighbour, then, must bear some proportion to self-love, and\nvirtue, to be sure, consists in the due proportion.  What this due\nproportion is, whether as a principle in the mind, or as exerted in\nactions, can be judged of only from our nature and condition in this\nworld.  Of the degree in which affections and the principles of action,\nconsidered in themselves, prevail, we have no measure: let us, then,\nproceed to the course of behaviour, the actions they produce.\n\nBoth our nature and condition require that each particular man should\nmake particular provision for himself: and the inquiry, what proportion\nbenevolence should have to self-love, when brought down to practice, will\nbe, what is a competent care and provision for ourselves?  And how\ncertain soever it be that each man must determine this for himself, and\nhow ridiculous soever it would be for any to attempt to determine it for\nanother, yet it is to be observed that the proportion is real, and that a\ncompetent provision has a bound, and that it cannot be all which we can\npossibly get and keep within our grasp, without legal injustice.  Mankind\nalmost universally bring in vanity, supplies for what is called a life of\npleasure, covetousness, or imaginary notions of superiority over others,\nto determine this question: but every one who desires to act a proper\npart in society would do well to consider how far any of them come in to\ndetermine it, in the way of moral consideration.  All that can be said\nis, supposing what, as the world goes, is so much to be supposed that it\nis scarce to be mentioned, that persons do not neglect what they really\nowe to themselves; the more of their care and thought and of their\nfortune they employ in doing good to their fellow-creatures the nearer\nthey come up to the law of perfection, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as\nthyself_.\n\nThirdly, if the words _as thyself_ were to be understood of an equality\nof affection, it would not be attended with those consequences which\nperhaps may be thought to follow from it.  Suppose a person to have the\nsame settled regard to others as to himself; that in every deliberate\nscheme or pursuit he took their interest into the account in the same\ndegree as his own, so far as an equality of affection would produce this:\nyet he would, in fact, and ought to be, much more taken up and employed\nabout himself, and his own concerns, than about others, and their\ninterests.  For, besides the one common affection toward himself and his\nneighbour he would have several other particular affections, passions,\nappetites, which he could not possibly feel in common both for himself\nand others.  Now these sensations themselves very much employ us, and\nhave perhaps as great influence as self-love.  So far indeed as\nself-love, and cool reflection upon what is for our interest, would set\nus on work to gain a supply of our own several wants, so far the love of\nour neighbour would make us do the same for him: but the degree in which\nwe are put upon seeking and making use of the means of gratification, by\nthe feeling of those affections, appetites, and passions, must\nnecessarily be peculiar to ourselves.\n\nThat there are particular passions (suppose shame, resentment) which men\nseem to have, and feel in common, both for themselves and others, makes\nno alteration in respect to those passions and appetites which cannot\npossibly be thus felt in common.  From hence (and perhaps more things of\nthe like kind might be mentioned) it follows, that though there were an\nequality of affection to both, yet regards to ourselves would be more\nprevalent than attention to the concerns of others.\n\nAnd from moral considerations it ought to be so, supposing still the\nequality of affection commanded, because we are in a peculiar manner, as\nI may speak, intrusted with ourselves, and therefore care of our own\ninterests, as well as of our conduct, particularly belongs to us.\n\nTo these things must be added, that moral obligations can extend no\nfurther than to natural possibilities.  Now we have a perception of our\nown interests, like consciousness of our own existence, which we always\ncarry about with us, and which, in its continuation, kind, and degree,\nseems impossible to be felt in respect to the interests of others.\n\nFrom all these things it fully appears that though we were to love our\nneighbour in the same degree as we love ourselves, so far as this is\npossible, yet the care of ourselves, of the individual, would not be\nneglected, the apprehended danger of which seems to be the only objection\nagainst understanding the precept in this strict sense.\n\nIII.  The general temper of mind which the due love of our neighbour\nwould form us to, and the influence it would have upon our behaviour in\nlife, is now to be considered.\n\nThe temper and behaviour of charity is explained at large in that known\npassage of St. Paul: {27} _Charity suffereth long_, _and is kind_;\n_charity envieth not_, _doth not behave itself unseemly_, _seeketh not\nher own_, _thinketh no evil_, _beareth all things_, _believeth all\nthings_, _hopeth all things_.  As to the meaning of the expressions,\n_seeketh not her own_, _thinketh no evil_, _believeth all things_;\nhowever those expressions may be explained away, this meekness, and in\nsome degree easiness of temper, readiness to forego our right for the\nsake of peace, as well as in the way of compassion, freedom from\nmistrust, and disposition to believe well of our neighbour, this general\ntemper, I say, accompanies, and is plainly the effect of love and\ngoodwill.  And, though such is the world in which we live, that\nexperience and knowledge of it not only may, but must beget, in as\ngreater regard to ourselves, and doubtfulness of the characters of\nothers, than is natural to mankind, yet these ought not to be carried\nfurther than the nature and course of things make necessary.  It is still\ntrue, even in the present state of things, bad as it is, that a real good\nman had rather be deceived than be suspicious; had rather forego his\nknown right, than run the venture of doing even a hard thing.  This is\nthe general temper of that charity, of which the apostle asserts, that if\nhe had it not, giving his _body to be burned would avail him nothing_;\nand which he says _shall never fail_.\n\nThe happy influence of this temper extends to every different relation\nand circumstance in human life.  It plainly renders a man better, more to\nbe desired, as to all the respects and relations we can stand in to each\nother.  The benevolent man is disposed to make use of all external\nadvantages in such a manner as shall contribute to the good of others, as\nwell as to his own satisfaction.  His own satisfaction consists in this.\nHe will be easy and kind to his dependents, compassionate to the poor and\ndistressed, friendly to all with whom he has to do.  This includes the\ngood neighbour, parent, master, magistrate: and such a behaviour would\nplainly make dependence, inferiority, and even servitude easy.  So that a\ngood or charitable man of superior rank in wisdom, fortune, authority, is\na common blessing to the place he lives in: happiness grows under his\ninfluence.  This good principle in inferiors would discover itself in\npaying respect, gratitude, obedience, as due.  It were therefore,\nmethinks, one just way of trying one's own character to ask ourselves, am\nI in reality a better master or servant, a better friend, a better\nneighbour, than such and such persons, whom, perhaps, I may think not to\ndeserve the character of virtue and religion so much as myself?\n\nAnd as to the spirit of party, which unhappily prevails amongst mankind,\nwhatever are the distinctions which serve for a supply to it, some or\nother of which have obtained in all ages and countries, one who is thus\nfriendly to his kind will immediately make due allowances for it, as what\ncannot but be amongst such creatures as men, in such a world as this.  And\nas wrath and fury and overbearing upon these occasions proceed, as I may\nspeak, from men's feeling only on their own side, so a common feeling,\nfor others as well as for ourselves, would render us sensible to this\ntruth, which it is strange can have so little influence, that we\nourselves differ from others, just as much as they do from us.  I put the\nmatter in this way, because it can scarce be expected that the generality\nof men should see that those things which are made the occasions of\ndissension and fomenting the party-spirit are really nothing at all: but\nit may be expected from all people, how much soever they are in earnest\nabout their respective peculiarities, that humanity and common goodwill\nto their fellow-creatures should moderate and restrain that wretched\nspirit.\n\nThis good temper of charity likewise would prevent strife and enmity\narising from other occasions: it would prevent our giving just cause of\noffence, and our taking it without cause.  And in cases of real injury, a\ngood man will make all the allowances which are to be made, and, without\nany attempts of retaliation, he will only consult his own and other men's\nsecurity for the future against injustice and wrong.\n\nIV.  I proceed to consider, lastly, what is affirmed of the precept now\nexplained, that it comprehends in it all others, _i.e._, that to love our\nneighbour as ourselves includes in it all virtues.\n\nNow the way in which every maxim of conduct, or general speculative\nassertion, when it is to be explained at large should be treated, is, to\nshow what are the particular truths which were designed to be\ncomprehended under such a general observation, how far it is strictly\ntrue, and then the limitations, restrictions, and exceptions, if there be\nexceptions, with which it is to be understood.  But it is only the former\nof these, namely, how far the assertion in the text holds, and the ground\nof the pre-eminence assigned to the precept of it, which in strictness\ncomes into our present consideration.\n\nHowever, in almost everything that is said, there is somewhat to be\nunderstood beyond what is explicitly laid down, and which we of course\nsupply, somewhat, I mean, which would not be commonly called a\nrestriction or limitation.  Thus, when benevolence is said to be the sum\nof virtue, it is not spoken of as a blind propension, but a principle in\nreasonable creatures, and so to be directed by their reason, for reason\nand reflection comes into our notion of a moral agent.  And that will\nlead us to consider distant consequences, as well as the immediate\ntendency of an action.  It will teach us that the care of some persons,\nsuppose children and families, is particularly committed to our charge by\nNature and Providence, as also that there are other circumstances,\nsuppose friendship or former obligations, which require that we do good\nto some, preferably to others.  Reason, considered merely as subservient\nto benevolence, as assisting to produce the greatest good, will teach us\nto have particular regard to these relations and circumstances, because\nit is plainly for the good of the world that they should be regarded.  And\nas there are numberless cases in which, notwithstanding appearances, we\nare not competent judges, whether a particular action will upon the whole\ndo good or harm, reason in the same way will teach us to be cautious how\nwe act in these cases of uncertainty.  It will suggest to our\nconsideration which is the safer side; how liable we are to be led wrong\nby passion and private interest; and what regard is due to laws, and the\njudgment of mankind.  All these things must come into consideration, were\nit only in order to determine which way of acting is likely to produce\nthe greatest good.  Thus, upon supposition that it were in the strictest\nsense true, without limitation, that benevolence includes in it all\nvirtues, yet reason must come in as its guide and director, in order to\nattain its own end, the end of benevolence, the greatest public good.\nReason, then, being thus included, let us now consider the truth of the\nassertion itself.\n\nFirst, It is manifest that nothing can be of consequence to mankind or\nany creature but happiness.  This, then, is all which any person can, in\nstrictness of speaking, be said to have a right to.  We can therefore\n_owe no man anything_, but only to farther and promote his happiness,\naccording to our abilities.  And therefore a disposition and endeavour to\ndo good to all with whom we have to do, in the degree and manner which\nthe different relations we stand in to them require, is a discharge of\nall the obligations we are under to them.\n\nAs human nature is not one simple uniform thing but a composition of\nvarious parts, body, spirit, appetites, particular passions, and\naffections, for each of which reasonable self-love would lead men to have\ndue regard, and make suitable provision, so society consists of various\nparts to which we stand in different respects and relations, and just\nbenevolence would as surely lead us to have due regard to each of these\nand behave as the respective relations require.  Reasonable goodwill and\nright behaviour towards our fellow-creatures are in a manner the same,\nonly that the former expresseth the principle as it is in the mind; the\nlatter, the principle as it were become external, _i.e._, exerted in\nactions.\n\nAnd so far as temperance, sobriety, and moderation in sensual pleasures,\nand the contrary vices, have any respect to our fellow-creatures, any\ninfluence upon their quiet, welfare, and happiness, as they always have a\nreal, and often a near influence upon it, so far it is manifest those\nvirtues may be produced by the love of our neighbour, and that the\ncontrary vices would be prevented by it.  Indeed, if men's regard to\nthemselves will not restrain them from excess, it may be thought little\nprobable that their love to others will be sufficient: but the reason is,\nthat their love to others is not, any more than their regard to\nthemselves, just, and in its due degree.  There are, however, manifest\ninstances of persons kept sober and temperate from regard to their\naffairs, and the welfare of those who depend upon them.  And it is\nobvious to every one that habitual excess, a dissolute course of life,\nimplies a general neglect of the duties we owe towards our friends, our\nfamilies, and our country.\n\nFrom hence it is manifest that the common virtues and the common vices of\nmankind may be traced up to benevolence, or the want of it.  And this\nentitles the precept, _Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself_, to the\npre-eminence given to it, and is a justification of the apostle's\nassertion, that all other commandments are comprehended in it, whatever\ncautions and restrictions {28} there are, which might require to be\nconsidered, if we were to state particularly and at length what is virtue\nand right behaviour in mankind.  But,\n\nSecondly, It might be added, that in a higher and more general way of\nconsideration, leaving out the particular nature of creatures, and the\nparticular circumstances in which they are placed, benevolence seems in\nthe strictest sense to include in it all that is good and worthy, all\nthat is good, which we have any distinct particular notion of.  We have\nno clear conception of any position moral attribute in the Supreme Being,\nbut what may be resolved up into goodness.  And, if we consider a\nreasonable creature or moral agent, without regard to the particular\nrelations and circumstances in which he is placed, we cannot conceive\nanything else to come in towards determining whether he is to be ranked\nin a higher or lower class of virtuous beings, but the higher or lower\ndegree in which that principle, and what is manifestly connected with it,\nprevail in him.\n\nThat which we more strictly call piety, or the love of God, and which is\nan essential part of a right temper, some may perhaps imagine no way\nconnected with benevolence: yet surely they must be connected, if there\nbe indeed in being an object infinitely good.  Human nature is so\nconstituted that every good affection implies the love of itself, _i.e._,\nbecomes the object of a new affection in the same person.  Thus, to be\nrighteous, implies in it the love of righteousness; to be benevolent, the\nlove of benevolence; to be good, the love of goodness; whether this\nrighteousness, benevolence, or goodness be viewed as in our own mind or\nanother's, and the love of God as a being perfectly good is the love of\nperfect goodness contemplated in a being or person.  Thus morality and\nreligion, virtue and piety, will at last necessarily coincide, run up\ninto one and the same point, and _love_ will be in all senses _the end of\nthe commandment_.\n\n* * * * *\n\n_O Almighty God_, _inspire us with this divine principle_; _kill in us\nall the seeds of envy and ill-will_; _and help us_, _by cultivating\nwithin ourselves the love of our neighbour_, _to improve in the love of\nThee_.  _Thou hast placed us in various kindreds_, _friendships_, _and\nrelations_, _as the school of discipline for our affections_: _help us_,\n_by the due exercise of them_, _to improve to perfection_; _till all\npartial affection be lost in that entire universal one_, _and thou_, _O\nGod_, _shalt_ be all in all.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XIII., XIV.  UPON THE LOVE OF GOD.\n\n\n   MATTHEW xxii. 37.\n\n   _Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart_, _and with all\n   thy soul_, _and with all thy mind_.\n\nEverybody knows, you therefore need only just be put in mind, that there\nis such a thing as having so great horror of one extreme as to run\ninsensibly and of course into the contrary; and that a doctrine's having\nbeen a shelter for enthusiasm, or made to serve the purposes of\nsuperstition, is no proof of the falsity of it: truth or right being\nsomewhat real in itself, and so not to be judged of by its liableness to\nabuse, or by its supposed distance from or nearness to error.  It may be\nsufficient to have mentioned this in general, without taking notice of\nthe particular extravagances which have been vented under the pretence or\nendeavour of explaining the love of God; or how manifestly we are got\ninto the contrary extreme, under the notion of a reasonable religion; so\nvery reasonable as to have nothing to do with the heart and affections,\nif these words signify anything but the faculty by which we discern\nspeculative truth.\n\nBy the love of God I would understand all those regards, all those\naffections of mind which are due immediately to Him from such a creature\nas man, and which rest in Him as their end.  As this does not include\nservile fear, so neither will any other regards, how reasonable soever,\nwhich respect anything out of or besides the perfection of the Divine\nnature, come into consideration here.  But all fear is not excluded,\nbecause His displeasure is itself the natural proper object of fear.\nReverence, ambition of His love and approbation, delight in the hope or\nconsciousness of it, come likewise into this definition of the love of\nGod, because He is the natural object of all those affections or\nmovements of mind as really as He is the object of the affection, which\nis in the strictest sense called love; and all of them equally rest in\nHim as their end.  And they may all be understood to be implied in these\nwords of our Saviour, without putting any force upon them: for He is\nspeaking of the love of God and our neighbour as containing the whole of\npiety and virtue.\n\nIt is plain that the nature of man is so constituted as to feel certain\naffections upon the sight or contemplation of certain objects.  Now the\nvery notion of affection implies resting in its object as an end.  And\nthe particular affection to good characters, reverence and moral love of\nthem, is natural to all those who have any degree of real goodness in\nthemselves.  This will be illustrated by the description of a perfect\ncharacter in a creature; and by considering the manner in which a good\nman in his presence would be affected towards such a character.  He would\nof course feel the affections of love, reverence, desire of his\napprobation, delight in the hope or consciousness of it.  And surely all\nthis is applicable, and may be brought up to that Being, who is\ninfinitely more than an adequate object of all those affections; whom we\nare commanded to _love with all our heart_, _with all our soul_, _and\nwith all our mind_.  And of these regards towards Almighty God some are\nmore particularly suitable to and becoming so imperfect a creature as\nman, in this mortal state we are passing through; and some of them, and\nperhaps other exercises of the mind, will be the employment and happiness\nof good men in a state of perfection.\n\nThis is a general view of what the following discourse will contain.  And\nit is manifest the subject is a real one: there is nothing in it\nenthusiastical or unreasonable.  And if it be indeed at all a subject, it\nis one of the utmost importance.\n\nAs mankind have a faculty by which they discern speculative truth, so we\nhave various affections towards external objects.  Understanding and\ntemper, reason and affection, are as distinct ideas as reason and hunger,\nand one would think could no more be confounded.  It is by reason that we\nget the ideas of several objects of our affections; but in these cases\nreason and affection are no more the same than sight of a particular\nobject, and the pleasure or uneasiness consequent thereupon, are the\nsame.  Now as reason tends to and rests in the discernment of truth, the\nobject of it, so the very nature of affection consists in tending\ntowards, and resting in, its objects as an end.  We do indeed often in\ncommon language say that things are loved, desired, esteemed, not for\nthemselves, but for somewhat further, somewhat out of and beyond them;\nyet, in these cases, whoever will attend will see that these things are\nnot in reality the objects of the affections, _i.e._ are not loved,\ndesired, esteemed, but the somewhat further and beyond them.  If we have\nno affections which rest in what are called their objects, then what is\ncalled affection, love, desire, hope, in human nature, is only an\nuneasiness in being at rest; an unquiet disposition to action, progress,\npursuit, without end or meaning.  But if there be any such thing as\ndelight in the company of one person, rather than of another; whether in\nthe way of friendship, or mirth and entertainment, it is all one, if it\nbe without respect to fortune, honour, or increasing our stores of\nknowledge, or anything beyond the present time; here is an instance of an\naffection absolutely resting in its object as its end, and being\ngratified in the same way as the appetite of hunger is satisfied with\nfood.  Yet nothing is more common than to hear it asked, what advantage a\nman hath in such a course, suppose of study, particular friendships, or\nin any other; nothing, I say, is more common than to hear such a question\nput in a way which supposes no gain, advantage, or interest, but as a\nmeans to somewhat further: and if so, then there is no such thing at all\nas real interest, gain, or advantage.  This is the same absurdity with\nrespect to life as an infinite series of effects without a cause is in\nspeculation.  The gain, advantage, or interest consists in the delight\nitself, arising from such a faculty's having its object: neither is there\nany such thing as happiness or enjoyment but what arises from hence.  The\npleasures of hope and of reflection are not exceptions: the former being\nonly this happiness anticipated; the latter the same happiness enjoyed\nover again after its time.  And even the general expectation of future\nhappiness can afford satisfaction only as it is a present object to the\nprinciple of self-love.\n\nIt was doubtless intended that life should be very much a pursuit to the\ngross of mankind.  But this is carried so much further than is reasonable\nthat what gives immediate satisfaction, _i.e._ our present interest, is\nscarce considered as our interest at all.  It is inventions which have\nonly a remote tendency towards enjoyment, perhaps but a remote tendency\ntowards gaining the means only of enjoyment, which are chiefly spoken of\nas useful to the world.  And though this way of thinking were just with\nrespect to the imperfect state we are now in, where we know so little of\nsatisfaction without satiety, yet it must be guarded against when we are\nconsidering the happiness of a state of perfection; which happiness being\nenjoyment and not hope, must necessarily consist in this, that our\naffections have their objects, and rest in those objects as an end,\n_i.e._ be satisfied with them.  This will further appear in the sequel of\nthis discourse.\n\nOf the several affections, or inward sensations, which particular objects\nexcite in man, there are some, the having of which implies the love of\nthem, when they are reflected upon. {29}  This cannot be said of all our\naffections, principles, and motives of action.  It were ridiculous to\nassert that a man upon reflection hath the same kind of approbation of\nthe appetite of hunger or the passion of fear as he hath of goodwill to\nhis fellow-creatures.  To be a just, a good, a righteous man, plainly\ncarries with it a peculiar affection to or love of justice, goodness,\nrighteousness, when these principles are the objects of contemplation.\n\nNow if a man approves of, or hath an affection to, any principle in and\nfor itself, incidental things allowed for, it will be the same whether he\nviews it in his own mind or in another; in himself or in his neighbour.\nThis is the account of our approbation of, or moral love and affection to\ngood characters; which cannot but be in those who have any degrees of\nreal goodness in themselves, and who discern and take notice of the same\nprinciple in others.\n\nFrom observation of what passes within ourselves, our own actions, and\nthe behaviour of others, the mind may carry on its reflections as far as\nit pleases; much beyond what we experience in ourselves, or discern in\nour fellow creatures.  It may go on and consider goodness as become a\nuniform continued principle of action, as conducted by reason, and\nforming a temper and character absolutely good and perfect, which is in a\nhigher sense excellent, and proportionably the object of love and\napprobation.\n\nLet us then suppose a creature perfect according to his created\nnature--let his form be human, and his capacities no more than equal to\nthose of the chief of men--goodness shall be his proper character, with\nwisdom to direct it, and power within some certain determined sphere of\naction to exert it: but goodness must be the simple actuating principle\nwithin him; this being the moral quality which is amiable, or the\nimmediate object of love as distinct from other affections of\napprobation.  Here then is a finite object for our mind to tend towards,\nto exercise itself upon: a creature, perfect according to his capacity,\nfixed, steady, equally unmoved by weak pity or more weak fury and\nresentment; forming the justest scheme of conduct; going on undisturbed\nin the execution of it, through the several methods of severity and\nreward, towards his end, namely, the general happiness of all with whom\nhe hath to do, as in itself right and valuable.  This character, though\nuniform in itself, in its principle, yet exerting itself in different\nways, or considered in different views, may by its appearing variety move\ndifferent affections.  Thus, the severity of justice would not affect us\nin the same way as an act of mercy.  The adventitious qualities of wisdom\nand power may be considered in themselves; and even the strength of mind\nwhich this immovable goodness supposes may likewise be viewed as an\nobject of contemplation distinct from the goodness itself.  Superior\nexcellence of any kind, as well as superior wisdom and power, is the\nobject of awe and reverence to all creatures, whatever their moral\ncharacter be; but so far as creatures of the lowest rank were good, so\nfar the view of this character, as simply good, must appear amiable to\nthem, be the object of, or beget love.  Further suppose we were conscious\nthat this superior person so far approved of us that we had nothing\nservilely to fear from him; that he was really our friend, and kind and\ngood to us in particular, as he had occasionally intercourse with us: we\nmust be other creatures than we are, or we could not but feel the same\nkind of satisfaction and enjoyment (whatever would be the degree of it)\nfrom this higher acquaintance and friendship as we feel from common ones,\nthe intercourse being real and the persons equally present in both cases.\nWe should have a more ardent desire to be approved by his better\njudgment, and a satisfaction in that approbation of the same sort with\nwhat would be felt in respect to common persons, or be wrought in us by\ntheir presence.\n\nLet us now raise the character, and suppose this creature, for we are\nstill going on with the supposition of a creature, our proper guardian\nand governor; that we were in a progress of being towards somewhat\nfurther; and that his scheme of government was too vast for our\ncapacities to comprehend: remembering still that he is perfectly good,\nand our friend as well as our governor.  Wisdom, power, goodness,\naccidentally viewed anywhere, would inspire reverence, awe, love; and as\nthese affections would be raised in higher or lower degrees in proportion\nas we had occasionally more or less intercourse with the creature endued\nwith those qualities, so this further consideration and knowledge that he\nwas our proper guardian and governor would much more bring these objects\nand qualities home to ourselves; teach us they had a greater respect to\nus in particular, that we had a higher interest in that wisdom and power\nand goodness.  We should, with joy, gratitude, reverence, love, trust,\nand dependence, appropriate the character, as what we had a right in, and\nmake our boast in such our relation to it.  And the conclusion of the\nwhole would be that we should refer ourselves implicitly to him, and cast\nourselves entirely upon him.  As the whole attention of life should be to\nobey his commands, so the highest enjoyment of it must arise from the\ncontemplation of this character, and our relation to it, from a\nconsciousness of his favour and approbation, and from the exercise of\nthose affections towards him which could not but be raised from his\npresence.  A Being who hath these attributes, who stands in this\nrelation, and is thus sensibly present to the mind, must necessarily be\nthe object of these affections: there is as real a correspondence between\nthem as between the lowest appetite of sense and its object.\n\nThat this Being is not a creature, but the Almighty God; that He is of\ninfinite power and wisdom and goodness, does not render Him less the\nobject of reverence and love than He would be if He had those attributes\nonly in a limited degree.  The Being who made us, and upon whom we\nentirely depend, is the object of some regards.  He hath given us certain\naffections of mind, which correspond to wisdom, power, goodness, _i.e._\nwhich are raised upon view of those qualities.  If then He be really\nwise, powerful, good, He is the natural object of those affections which\nHe hath endued us with, and which correspond to those attributes.  That\nHe is infinite in power, perfect in wisdom and goodness, makes no\nalteration, but only that He is the object of those affections raised to\nthe highest pitch.  He is not, indeed, to be discerned by any of our\nsenses.  _I go forward_, _but He is not there_; _and backward_, _but I\ncannot perceive Him_: _on the left hand where He doth work_, _but I\ncannot behold Him_: _He hideth Himself on the right hand_, _that I cannot\nsee Him_, _Oh that I knew where I might find Him_! _that I might come\neven to His seat_! {30}  But is He then afar off? does He not fill heaven\nand earth with His presence?  The presence of our fellow-creatures\naffects our senses, and our senses give us the knowledge of their\npresence; which hath different kinds of influence upon us--love, joy,\nsorrow, restraint, encouragement, reverence.  However, this influence is\nnot immediately from our senses, but from that knowledge.  Thus suppose a\nperson neither to see nor hear another, not to know by any of his senses,\nbut yet certainly to know, that another was with him; this knowledge\nmight, and in many cases would, have one or more of the effects before\nmentioned.  It is therefore not only reasonable, but also natural, to be\naffected with a presence, though it be not the object of our senses;\nwhether it be, or be not, is merely an accidental circumstance, which\nneeds not come into consideration: it is the certainty that he is with\nus, and we with him, which hath the influence.  We consider persons then\nas present, not only when they are within reach of our senses, but also\nwhen we are assured by any other means that they are within such a\nnearness; nay, if they are not, we can recall them to our mind, and be\nmoved towards them as present; and must He, who is so much more\nintimately with us, that _in Him we live and move and have our being_, be\nthought too distant to be the object of our affections?  We own and feel\nthe force of amiable and worthy qualities in our fellow creatures; and\ncan we be insensible to the contemplation of perfect goodness?  Do we\nreverence the shadows of greatness here below, are we solicitous about\nhonour and esteem and the opinion of the world, and shall we not feel the\nsame with respect to Him whose are wisdom and power in the original, who\n_is the God of judgment by whom actions are weighed_?  Thus love,\nreverence, desire of esteem, every faculty, every affection, tends\ntowards and is employed about its respective object in common cases: and\nmust the exercise of them be suspended with regard to Him alone who is an\nobject, an infinitely more than adequate object, to our most exalted\nfaculties; Him, _of whom_, _and through whom_, _and to whom are all\nthings_?\n\nAs we cannot remove from this earth, or change our general business on\nit, so neither can we alter our real nature.  Therefore no exercise of\nthe mind can be recommended, but only the exercise of those faculties you\nare conscious of.  Religion does not demand new affections, but only\nclaims the direction of those you already have, those affections you\ndaily feel; though unhappily confined to objects not altogether\nunsuitable but altogether unequal to them.  We only represent to you the\nhigher, the adequate objects of those very faculties and affections.  Let\nthe man of ambition go on still to consider disgrace as the greatest\nevil, honour as his chief good.  But disgrace in whose estimation?  Honour\nin whose judgment?  This is the only question.  If shame, and delight in\nesteem, be spoken of as real, as any settled ground of pain or pleasure,\nboth these must be in proportion to the supposed wisdom, and worth of him\nby whom we are contemned or esteemed.  Must it then be thought\nenthusiastical to speak of a sensibility of this sort which shall have\nrespect to an unerring judgment, to infinite wisdom, when we are assured\nthis unerring judgment, this infinite wisdom does observe upon our\nactions?\n\nIt is the same with respect to the love of God in the strictest and most\nconfined sense.  We only offer and represent the highest object of an\naffection supposed already in your mind.  Some degree of goodness must be\npreviously supposed; this always implies the love of itself, an affection\nto goodness: the highest, the adequate object of this affection, is\nperfect goodness; which therefore we are to _love with all our heart_,\n_with all our soul_, _and with all our strength_.  \"Must we then,\nforgetting our own interest, as it were go out of ourselves, and love God\nfor His own sake?\"  No more forget your own interest, no more go out of\nyourselves, than when you prefer one place, one prospect, the\nconversation of one man to that of another.  Does not every affection\nnecessarily imply that the object of it be itself loved?  If it be not it\nis not the object of the affection.  You may, and ought if you can, but\nit is a great mistake to think you can love or fear or hate anything,\nfrom consideration that such love or fear or hatred may be a means of\nobtaining good or avoiding evil.  But the question whether we ought to\nlove God for His sake or for our own being a mere mistake in language,\nthe real question which this is mistaken for will, I suppose, be answered\nby observing that the goodness of God already exercised towards us, our\npresent dependence upon Him, and our expectation of future benefits,\nought, and have a natural tendency, to beget in us the affection of\ngratitude, and greater love towards Him, than the same goodness exercised\ntowards others; were it only for this reason, that every affection is\nmoved in proportion to the sense we have of the object of it; and we\ncannot but have a more lively sense of goodness when exercised towards\nourselves than when exercised towards others.  I added expectation of\nfuture benefits because the ground of that expectation is present\ngoodness.\n\nThus Almighty God is the natural object of the several affections, love,\nreverence, fear, desire of approbation.  For though He is simply one, yet\nwe cannot but consider Him in partial and different views.  He is in\nhimself one uniform Being, and for ever the same without _variableness or\nshadow of turning_; but His infinite greatness, His goodness, His wisdom,\nare different objects to our mind.  To which is to be added, that from\nthe changes in our own characters, together with His unchangeableness, we\ncannot but consider ourselves as more or less the objects of His\napprobation, and really be so.  For if He approves what is good, He\ncannot, merely from the unchangeableness of His nature, approve what is\nevil.  Hence must arise more various movements of mind, more different\nkinds of affections.  And this greater variety also is just and\nreasonable in such creatures as we are, though it respects a Being simply\none, good and perfect.  As some of these actions are most particularly\nsuitable to so imperfect a creature as man in this mortal state we are\npassing through, so there may be other exercises of mind, or some of\nthese in higher degrees, our employment and happiness in a state of\nperfection.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XIV.\n\n\nConsider then our ignorance, the imperfection of our nature, our virtue,\nand our condition in this world, with respect to aim infinitely good and\njust Being, our Creator and Governor, and you will see what religious\naffections of mind are most particularly suitable to this mortal state we\nare passing through.\n\nThough we are not affected with anything so strongly as what we discern\nwith our senses, and though our nature and condition require that we be\nmuch taken up about sensible things, yet our reason convinces us that God\nis present with us, and we see and feel the effects of His goodness: He\nis therefore the object of some regards.  The imperfection of our virtue,\njoined with the consideration of His absolute rectitude or holiness, will\nscarce permit that perfection of love which entirely casts out all fear:\nyet goodness is the object of love to all creatures who have any degree\nof it themselves; and consciousness of a real endeavour to approve\nourselves to Him, joined with the consideration of His goodness, as it\nquite excludes servile dread and horror, so it is plainly a reasonable\nground for hope of His favour.  Neither fear nor hope nor love then are\nexcluded, and one or another of these will prevail, according to the\ndifferent views we have of God, and ought to prevail, according to the\nchanges we find in our own character.  There is a temper of mind made up\nof, or which follows from all three, fear, hope, love--namely,\nresignation to the Divine will, which is the general temper belonging to\nthis state; which ought to be the habitual frame of our mind and heart,\nand to be exercised at proper seasons more distinctly, in acts of\ndevotion.\n\nResignation to the will of God is the whole of piety.  It includes in it\nall that is good, and is a source of the most settled quiet and composure\nof mind.  There is the general principle of submission in our nature.  Man\nis not so constituted as to desire things, and be uneasy in the want of\nthem, in proportion to their known value: many other considerations come\nin to determine the degrees of desire; particularly whether the advantage\nwe take a view of be within the sphere of our rank.  Whoever felt\nuneasiness upon observing any of the advantages brute creatures have over\nus?  And yet it is plain they have several.  It is the same with respect\nto advantages belonging to creatures of a superior order.  Thus, though\nwe see a thing to be highly valuable, yet that it does not belong to our\ncondition of being is sufficient to suspend our desires after it, to make\nus rest satisfied without such advantage.  Now there is just the same\nreason for quiet resignation in the want of everything equally\nunattainable and out of our reach in particular, though others of our\nspecies be possessed of it.  All this may be applied to the whole of\nlife; to positive inconveniences as well as wants, not indeed to the\nsensations of pain and sorrow, but to all the uneasinesses of reflection,\nmurmuring, and discontent.  Thus is human nature formed to compliance,\nyielding, submission of temper.  We find the principles of it within us;\nand every one exercises it towards some objects or other, _i.e._ feels it\nwith regard to some persons and some circumstances.  Now this is an\nexcellent foundation of a reasonable and religious resignation.  Nature\nteaches and inclines as to take up with our lot; the consideration that\nthe course of things is unalterable hath a tendency to quiet the mind\nunder it, to beget a submission of temper to it.  But when we can add\nthat this unalterable course is appointed and continued by infinite\nwisdom and goodness, how absolute should be our submission, how entire\nour trust and dependence!\n\nThis would reconcile us to our condition, prevent all the supernumerary\ntroubles arising from imagination, distant fears, impatience--all\nuneasiness, except that which necessarily arises from the calamities\nthemselves we may be under.  How many of our cares should we by this\nmeans be disburdened of!  Cares not properly our own, how apt soever they\nmay be to intrude upon us, and we to admit them; the anxieties of\nexpectation, solicitude about success and disappointment, which in truth\nare none of our concern.  How open to every gratification would that mind\nbe which was clear of these encumbrances!\n\nOur resignation to the will of God may be said to be perfect when our\nwill is lost and resolved up into His: when we rest in His will as our\nend, as being itself most just and right and good.  And where is the\nimpossibility of such an affection to what is just, and right, and good,\nsuch a loyalty of heart to the Governor of the universe as shall prevail\nover all sinister indirect desires of our own?  Neither is this at bottom\nanything more than faith and honesty and fairness of mind--in a more\nenlarged sense indeed than those words are commonly used.  And as, in\ncommon cases, fear and hope and other passions are raised in us by their\nrespective objects, so this submission of heart and soul and mind, this\nreligious resignation, would be as naturally produced by our having just\nconceptions of Almighty God, and a real sense of His presence with us.  In\nhow low a degree soever this temper usually prevails amongst men, yet it\nis a temper right in itself: it is what we owe to our Creator: it is\nparticularly suitable to our mortal condition, and what we should\nendeavour after for our own sakes in our passage through such a world as\nthis, where is nothing upon which we can rest or depend, nothing but what\nwe are liable to be deceived and disappointed in.  Thus we might\n_acquaint ourselves with God_, _and be at peace_.  This is piety an\nreligion in the strictest sense, considered as a habit of mind: an\nhabitual sense of God's presence with us; being affected towards Him, as\npresent, in the manner His superior nature requires from such a creature\nas man: this is to _walk with God_.\n\nLittle more need be said of devotion or religious worship than that it is\nthis temper exerted into act.  The nature of it consists in the actual\nexercise of those affections towards God which are supposed habitual in\ngood men.  He is always equally present with us: but we are so much taken\nup with sensible things that, _Lo_, _He goeth by us_, _and we see Him\nnot_: _He passeth on also_, _but we perceive Him not_. {31}  Devotion is\nretirement from the world He has made to Him alone: it is to withdraw\nfrom the avocations of sense, to employ our attention wholly upon Him as\nupon an object actually present, to yield ourselves up to the influence\nof the Divine presence, and to give full scope to the affections of\ngratitude, love, reverence, trust, and dependence; of which infinite\npower, wisdom, and goodness is the natural and only adequate object.  We\nmay apply to the whole of devotion those words of the Son of Sirach,\n_When you glorify the Lord_, _exalt Him as much as you can_; _for even\nyet will He far exceed_: _and when you exalt Him_, _put forth all your\nstrength_, _and be not weary_; _for you can never go far enough_. {32}\nOur most raised affections of every kind cannot but fall short and be\ndisproportionate when an infinite being is the object of them.  This is\nthe highest exercise and employment of mind that a creature is capable\nof.  As this divine service and worship is itself absolutely due to God,\nso also is it necessary in order to a further end, to keep alive upon our\nminds a sense of His authority, a sense that in our ordinary behaviour\namongst men we act under him as our Governor and Judge.\n\nThus you see the temper of mind respecting God which is particularly\nsuitable to a state of imperfection, to creatures in a progress of being\ntowards somewhat further.\n\nSuppose now this something further attained, that we were arrived at it,\nwhat a perception will it be to see and know and feel that our trust was\nnot vain, our dependence not groundless?  That the issue, event, and\nconsummation came out such as fully to justify and answer that\nresignation?  If the obscure view of the divine perfection which we have\nin this world ought in just consequence to beget an entire resignation,\nwhat will this resignation be exalted into when _we shall see face to\nface_, _and know as we are known_?  If we cannot form any distinct notion\nof that perfection of the love of God which _casts out all fear_, of that\nenjoyment of Him which will be the happiness of good men hereafter, the\nconsideration of our wants and capacities of happiness, and that He will\nbe adequate supply to them, must serve us instead of such distinct\nconception of the particular happiness itself.\n\nLet us then suppose a man entirely disengaged from business and pleasure,\nsitting down alone and at leisure, to reflect upon himself and his own\ncondition of being.  He would immediately feel that he was by no means\ncomplete of himself, but totally insufficient for his own happiness.  One\nmay venture to affirm that every man hath felt this, whether he hath\nagain reflected upon it or not.  It is feeling this deficiency, that they\nare unsatisfied with themselves, which makes men look out for assistance\nfrom abroad, and which has given rise to various kinds of amusements,\naltogether needless any otherwise than as they serve to fill up the blank\nspaces of time, and so hinder their feeling this deficiency, and being\nuneasy with themselves.  Now, if these external things we take up with\nwere really an adequate supply to this deficiency of human nature, if by\ntheir means our capacities and desires were all satisfied and filled up,\nthen it might be truly said that we had found out the proper happiness of\nman, and so might sit down satisfied, and be at rest in the enjoyment of\nit.  But if it appears that the amusements which men usually pass their\ntime in are so far from coming up to or answering our notions and desires\nof happiness or good that they are really no more than what they are\ncommonly called, somewhat to pass away the time, _i.e._ somewhat which\nserves to turn us aside from, and prevent our attending to, this our\ninternal poverty and want; if they serve only, or chiefly, to suspend\ninstead of satisfying our conceptions and desires of happiness; if the\nwant remains, and we have found out little more than barely the means of\nmaking it less sensible; then are we still to seek for somewhat to be an\nadequate supply to it.  It is plain that there is a capacity in the\nnature of man which neither riches nor honours nor sensual\ngratifications, nor anything in this world, can perfectly fill up or\nsatisfy: there is a deeper and more essential want than any of these\nthings can be the supply of.  Yet surely there is a possibility of\nsomewhat which may fill up all our capacities of happiness, somewhat in\nwhich our souls may find rest, somewhat which may be to us that\nsatisfactory good we are inquiring after.  But it cannot be anything\nwhich is valuable only as it tends to some further end.  Those therefore\nwho have got this world so much into their hearts as not to be able to\nconsider happiness as consisting in anything but property and\npossessions--which are only valuable as the means to somewhat else--cannot\nhave the least glimpse of the subject before us, which is the end, not\nthe means; the thing itself, not somewhat in order to it.  But if you can\nlay aside that general, confused, undeterminate notion of happiness, as\nconsisting in such possessions, and fix in your thoughts that it really\ncan consist in nothing but in a faculty's having its proper object, you\nwill clearly see that in the coolest way of consideration, without either\nthe heat of fanciful enthusiasm or the warmth of real devotion, nothing\nis more certain than that an infinite Being may Himself be, if He\npleases, the supply to all the capacities of our nature.  All the common\nenjoyments of life are from the faculties He hath endued us with and the\nobjects He hath made suitable to them.  He may Himself be to us\ninfinitely more than all these; He may be to us all that we want.  As our\nunderstanding can contemplate itself, and our affections be exercised\nupon themselves by reflection, so may each be employed in the same manner\nupon any other mind; and since the Supreme Mind, the Author and Cause of\nall things, is the highest possible object to Himself, He may be an\nadequate supply to all the faculties of our souls, a subject to our\nunderstanding, and an object to our affections.\n\nConsider then: when we shall have put off this mortal body, when we shall\nbe divested of sensual appetites, and those possessions which are now the\nmeans of gratification shall be of no avail, when this restless scene of\nbusiness and vain pleasures, which now diverts us from ourselves, shall\nbe all over, we, our proper self, shall still remain: we shall still\ncontinue the same creatures we are, with wants to be supplied and\ncapacities of happiness.  We must have faculties of perception, though\nnot sensitive ones; and pleasure or uneasiness from our perceptions, as\nnow we have.\n\nThere are certain ideas which we express by the words order, harmony,\nproportion, beauty, the furthest removed from anything sensual.  Now what\nis there in those intellectual images, forms, or ideas, which begets that\napprobation, love, delight, and even rapture, which is seen in some\npersons' faces upon having those objects present to their minds?--\"Mere\nenthusiasm!\"--Be it what it will: there are objects, works of nature and\nof art, which all mankind have delight from quite distinct from their\naffording gratification to sensual appetites, and from quite another view\nof them than as being for their interest and further advantage.  The\nfaculties from which we are capable of these pleasures, and the pleasures\nthemselves, are as natural, and as much to be accounted for, as any\nsensual appetite whatever, and the pleasure from its gratification.  Words\nto be sure are wanting upon this subject; to say that everything of grace\nand beauty throughout the whole of nature, everything excellent and\namiable shared in differently lower degrees by the whole creation, meet\nin the Author and Cause of all things, this is an inadequate and perhaps\nimproper way of speaking of the Divine nature; but it is manifest that\nabsolute rectitude, the perfection of being, must be in all senses, and\nin every respect, the highest object to the mind.\n\nIn this world it is only the effects of wisdom and power and greatness\nwhich we discern; it is not impossible that hereafter the qualities\nthemselves in the supreme Being may be the immediate object of\ncontemplation.  What amazing wonders are opened to view by late\nimprovements!  What an object is the universe to a creature, if there be\na creature who can comprehend its system!  But it must be an infinitely\nhigher exercise of the understanding to view the scheme of it in that\nmind which projected it before its foundations were laid.  And surely we\nhave meaning to the words when we speak of going further, and viewing,\nnot only this system in His mind, but the wisdom and intelligence itself\nfrom whence it proceeded.  The same may be said of power.  But since\nwisdom and power are not God, He is a wise, a powerful Being; the divine\nnature may therefore be a further object to the understanding.  It is\nnothing to observe that our senses give us but an imperfect knowledge of\nthings: effects themselves, if we knew them thoroughly, would give us but\nimperfect notions of wisdom and power; much less of His being in whom\nthey reside.  I am not speaking of any fanciful notion of seeing all\nthings in God, but only representing to you how much a higher object to\nthe understanding an infinite Being Himself is than the things which He\nhas made; and this is no more than saying that the Creator is superior to\nthe works of His hands.\n\nThis may be illustrated by a low example.  Suppose a machine, the sight\nof which would raise, and discoveries in its contrivance gratify, our\ncuriosity: the real delight in this case would arise from its being the\neffect of skill and contrivance.  This skill in the mind of the artificer\nwould be a higher object, if we had any senses or ways to discern it.\nFor, observe, the contemplation of that principle, faculty, or power\nwhich produced any effect must be a higher exercise of the understanding\nthan the contemplation of the effect itself.  The cause must be a higher\nobject to the mind than the effect.\n\nBut whoever considers distinctly what the delight of knowledge is will\nsee reason to be satisfied that it cannot be the chief good of man: all\nthis, as it is applicable, so it was mentioned with regard to the\nattribute of goodness.  I say goodness.  Our being and all our enjoyments\nare the effects of it: just men bear its resemblance; but how little do\nwe know of the original, of what it is in itself?  Recall what was before\nobserved concerning the affection to moral characters--which, in how low\na degree soever, yet is plainly natural to man, and the most excellent\npart of his nature.  Suppose this improved, as it may be improved, to any\ndegree whatever, in the _spirits of just men made perfect_; and then\nsuppose that they had a real view of that _righteousness which is an\neverlasting righteousness_, of the conformity of the Divine will to _the\nlaw of truth_ in which the moral attributes of God consist, of that\ngoodness in the sovereign Mind which gave birth to the universe.  Add,\nwhat will be true of all good men hereafter, a consciousness of having an\ninterest in what they are contemplating--suppose them able to say, _This\nGod is our God for ever and ever_.  Would they be any longer to seek for\nwhat was their chief happiness, their final good?  Could the utmost\nstretch of their capacities look further?  Would not infinite perfect\ngoodness be their very end, the last end and object of their affections,\nbeyond which they could neither have nor desire, beyond which they could\nnot form a wish or thought?\n\nConsider wherein that presence of a friend consists which has often so\nstrong an effect as wholly to possess the mind, and entirely suspend all\nother affections and regards, and which itself affords the highest\nsatisfaction and enjoyment.  He is within reach of the senses.  Now as\nour capacities of perception improve we shall have, perhaps by some\nfaculty entirely new, a perception of God's presence with us in a nearer\nand stricter way, since it is certain He is more intimately present with\nus than anything else can be.  Proof of the existence and presence of any\nbeing is quite different from the immediate perception, the consciousness\nof it.  What then will be the joy of heart which His presence and _the\nlight of His countenance_, who is the life of the universe, will inspire\ngood men with when they shall have a sensation that He is the sustainer\nof their being, that they exist in Him; when they shall feel His\ninfluence to cheer and enliven and support their frame, in a manner of\nwhich we have now no conception?  He will be in a literal sense _their\nstrength and their portion for ever_.\n\nWhen we speak of things so much above our comprehension as the employment\nand happiness of a future state, doubtless it behoves us to speak with\nall modesty and distrust of ourselves.  But the Scripture represents the\nhappiness of that state under the notions of _seeing God_, _seeing Him as\nHe is_, _knowing as we are known_, _and seeing face to face_.  These\nwords are not general or undetermined, but express a particular\ndeterminate happiness.  And I will be bold to say that nothing can\naccount for or come up to these expressions but only this, that God\nHimself will be an object to our faculties, that He Himself will be our\nhappiness as distinguished from the enjoyments of the present state,\nwhich seem to arise not immediately from Him but from the objects He has\nadapted to give us delight.\n\nTo conclude: Let us suppose a person tired with care and sorrow and the\nrepetition of vain delights which fill up the round of life; sensible\nthat everything here below in its best estate is altogether vanity.\nSuppose him to feel that deficiency of human nature before taken notice\nof, and to be convinced that God alone was the adequate supply to it.\nWhat could be more applicable to a good man in this state of mind, or\nbetter express his present wants and distant hopes, his passage through\nthis world as a progress towards a state of perfection, than the\nfollowing passages in the devotions of the royal prophet?  They are\nplainly in a higher and more proper sense applicable to this than they\ncould be to anything else.  _I have seen an end of all perfection_.  _Whom\nhave I in heaven but Thee_?  _And there is none upon earth that I desire\nin comparison of Thee_.  _My flesh and may heart faileth_: _but God is\nthe strength of my heart and my portion for ever_.  _Like as the hart\ndesireth the water-brooks_, _so longeth my soul after Thee_, _O God_.  _My\nsoul is athirst for God_, _yea_, _even for the living God_: _when shall I\ncome to appear before Him_?  _How excellent is Thy loving-kindness_, _O\nGod_! _and the children of men shall put their trust under the shadow of\nThy wings_.  _They shall be satisfied with the plenteousness of Thy\nhouse_: _and Thou shalt give them drink of Thy pleasures_, _as out of the\nriver_.  _For with Thee is the well of life_: _and in Thy light shall we\nsee light_.  _Blessed is the man whom Thou choosest_, _and receivest unto\nThee_: _he shall dwell in Thy court_, _and shall be satisfied with the\npleasures of Thy house_, _even of Thy holy temple_.  _Blessed is the\npeople_, _O Lord_, _that can rejoice in Thee_: _they shall walk in the\nlight of Thy countenance_.  _Their delight shall be daily in Thy name_,\n_and in Thy righteousness shall they make their boast_.  _For Thou art\nthe glory of their strength_: _and in Thy lovingkindness they shall be\nexalted_.  _As for me_, _I will behold Thy presence in righteousness_:\n_and when I awake up after Thy likeness_, _I shall be satisfied with it_.\n_Thou shalt shew me the path of life_; _in Thy presence is the fulness of\njoy_, _and at Thy right hand there is pleasure for evermore_.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes:\n\n\n{1}  1 Cor. xii\n\n{2}  Suppose a man of learning to be writing a grave book upon _human\nnature_, and to show in several parts of it that he had an insight into\nthe subject he was considering, amongst other things, the following one\nwould require to be accounted for--the appearance of benevolence or good-\nwill in men towards each other in the instances of natural relation, and\nin others. {2a}  Cautions of being deceived with outward show, he retires\nwithin himself to see exactly what that is in the mind of man from whence\nthis appearance proceeds; and, upon deep reflection, asserts the\nprinciple in the mind to be only the love of power, and delight in the\nexercise of it.  Would not everybody think here was a mistake of one word\nfor another--that the philosopher was contemplating and accounting for\nsome other _human actions_, some other behaviour of man to man?  And\ncould any one be thoroughly satisfied that what is commonly called\nbenevolence or good-will was really the affection meant, but only by\nbeing made to understand that this learned person had a general\nhypothesis, to which the appearance of good-will could no otherwise be\nreconciled?  That what has this appearance is often nothing but ambition;\nthat delight in superiority often (suppose always) mixes itself with\nbenevolence, only makes it more specious to call it ambition than hunger,\nof the two: but in reality that passion does no more account for the\nwhole appearances of good-will than this appetite does.  Is there not\noften the appearance of one man's wishing that good to another, which he\nknows himself unable to procure him; and rejoicing in it, though bestowed\nby a third person?  And can love of power any way possibly come in to\naccount for this desire or delight?  Is there not often the appearance of\nmen's distinguishing between two or more persons, preferring one before\nanother, to do good to, in cases where love of power cannot in the least\naccount for the distinction and preference?  For this principle can no\notherwise distinguish between objects than as it is a greater instance\nand exertion of power to do good to one rather than to another.  Again,\nsuppose good-will in the mind of man to be nothing but delight in the\nexercise of power: men might indeed be restrained by distant and\naccidental consideration; but these restraints being removed, they would\nhave a disposition to, and delight in, mischief as an exercise and proof\nof power: and this disposition and delight would arise from, or be the\nsame principle in the mind, as a disposition to and delight in charity.\nThus cruelty, as distinct from envy and resentment, would be exactly the\nsame in the mind of man as good-will: that one tends to the happiness,\nthe other to the misery, of our fellow-creatures, is, it seems, merely an\naccidental circumstance, which the mind has not the least regard to.\nThese are the absurdities which even men of capacity run into when they\nhave occasion to belie their nature, and will perversely disclaim that\nimage of God which was originally stamped upon it, the traces of which,\nhowever faint, are plainly discernible upon the mind of man.\n\nIf any person can in earnest doubt whether there be such a thing as good-\nwill in one man towards another (for the question is not concerning\neither the degree or extensiveness of it, but concerning the affection\nitself), let it be observed that _whether man be thus_, _or otherwise\nconstituted_, _what is the inward frame in this particular_ is a mere\nquestion of fact of natural history not provable immediately by reason.\nIt is therefore to be judged of and determined in the same way other\nfacts or matters of natural history are--by appealing to the external\nsenses, or inward perceptions respectively, as the matter under\nconsideration is cognisable by one or the other: by arguing from\nacknowledged facts and actions for a great number of actions in the same\nkind, in different circumstances, and respecting different objects, will\nprove to a certainty what principles they do not, and to the greatest\nprobability what principles they do, proceed from: and, lastly, by the\ntestimony of mankind.  Now that there is some degree of benevolence\namongst men may be as strongly and plainly proved in all these ways, as\nit could possibly be proved, supposing there was this affection in our\nnature.  And should any one think fit to assert that resentment in the\nmind of man was absolutely nothing but reasonable concern for our own\nsafety, the falsity of this, and what is the real nature of that passion,\ncould be shown in no other ways than those in which it may be shown that\nthere is such a thing in _some degree_ as real good-will in man towards\nman.  It is sufficient that the seeds of it be implanted in our nature by\nGod.  There is, it is owned, much left for us to do upon our own heart\nand temper; to cultivate, to improve, to call it forth, to exercise it in\na steady, uniform manner.  This is our work: this is virtue and religion.\n\n{2a}  Hobbes, \"Of Human Nature,\" c. ix. 7.\n\n{3}  Everybody makes a distinction between self-love and the several\nparticular passions, appetites, and affections; and yet they are often\nconfounded again.  That they are totally different, will be seen by any\none who will distinguish between the passions and appetites _themselves_,\nand _endeavouring_ after the means of their gratification.  Consider the\nappetite of hunger, and the desire of esteem: these being the occasion\nboth of pleasure and pain, the coolest self-love, as well as the\nappetites and passions themselves, may put us upon making use of the\n_proper methods of obtaining_ that pleasure, and avoiding that pain; but\nthe _feelings_ themselves, the pain of hunger and shame, and the delight\nfrom esteem, are no more self-love than they are anything in the world.\nThough a man hated himself, he would as much feel the pain of hunger as\nhe would that of the gout; and it is plainly supposable there may be\ncreatures with self-love in them to the highest degree, who may be quite\ninsensible and indifferent (as men in some cases are) to the contempt and\nesteem of those upon whom their happiness does not in some further\nrespects depend.  And as self-love and the several particular passions\nand appetites are in themselves totally different, so that some actions\nproceed from one and some from the other will be manifest to any who will\nobserve the two following very supposable cases.  One man rushes upon\ncertain ruin for the gratification of a present desire: nobody will call\nthe principle of this action self-love.  Suppose another man to go\nthrough some laborious work upon promise of a great reward, without any\ndistinct knowledge what the reward will be: this course of action cannot\nbe ascribed to any particular passion.  The former of these actions is\nplainly to be imputed to some particular passion or affection; the latter\nas plainly to the general affection or principle of self-love.  That\nthere are some particular pursuits or actions concerning which we cannot\ndetermine how far they are owing to one, and how far to the other,\nproceeds from this, that the two principles are frequently mixed\ntogether, and run up into each other.  This distinction is further\nexplained in the Eleventh Sermon.\n\n{4}  If any desire to see this distinction and comparison made in a\nparticular instance, the appetite and passion now mentioned may serve for\none.  Hunger is to be considered as a private appetite, because the end\nfor which it was given us is the preservation of the individual.  Desire\nof esteem is a public passion; because the end for which it was given us\nis to regulate our behaviour towards society.  The respect which this has\nto private good is as remote as the respect that has to public good; and\nthe appetite is no more self-love than the passion is benevolence.  The\nobject and end of the former is merely food; the object and end of the\nlatter is merely esteem; but the latter can no more be gratified without\ncontributing to the good of society, than the former can be gratified\nwithout contributing to the preservation of the individual.\n\n{5}  Emulation is merely the desire and hope of equality with or\nsuperiority over others with whom we compare ourselves.  There does not\nappear to be any other _grief_ in the natural passion, but only _that\nwant_ which is implied in desire.  However, this may be so strong as to\nbe the occasion of great _grief_.  To desire the attainment of this\nequality or superiority by the _particular means_ of others being brought\ndown to our own level, or below it, is, I think, the distinct notion of\nenvy.  From whence it is easy to see that the real end, which the natural\npassion emulation, and which the unlawful one envy aims at, is exactly\nthe same; namely, that equality or superiority: and consequently, that to\ndo mischief is not the end of envy, but merely the means it makes use of\nto attain its end.  As to resentment, see the Eighth Sermon.\n\n{6}  Ephes. ii. 3.\n\n{7}  Every man in his physical nature is one individual single agent.  He\nhas likewise properties and principles, each of which may be considered\nseparately, and without regard to the respects which they have to each\nother.  Neither of these is the nature we are taking a view of.  But it\nis the inward frame of man considered as a _system_ or _constitution_:\nwhose several parts are united, not by a physical principle of\nindividuation, but by the respects they have to each other; the chief of\nwhich is the subjection which the appetites, passions, and particular\naffections have to the one supreme principle of reflection or conscience.\nThe system or constitution is formed by and consists in these respects\nand this subjection.  Thus the body is a _system_ or _constitution_: so\nis a tree: so is every machine.  Consider all the several parts of a tree\nwithout the natural reselects they have to each other, and you have not\nat all the idea of a tree; but add these respects, and this gives you the\nidea.  This body may be impaired by sickness, a tree may decay, a machine\nbe out of order, and yet the system and constitution of them not totally\ndissolved.  There is plainly somewhat which answers to all this in the\nmoral constitution of man.  Whoever will consider his own nature will see\nthat the several appetites, passions, and particular affections have\ndifferent respects amongst themselves.  They are restraints upon, and are\nin a proportion to, each other.  This proportion is just and perfect,\nwhen all those under principles are perfectly coincident with conscience,\nso far as their nature permits, and in all cases under its absolute and\nentire direction.  The least excess or defect, the least alteration of\nthe due proportions amongst themselves, or of their coincidence with\nconscience, though not proceeding into action, is some degree of disorder\nin the moral constitution.  But perfection, though plainly intelligible\nand unsupportable, was never attained by any man.  If the higher\nprinciple of reflection maintains its place, and as much as it can\ncorrects that disorder, and hinders it from breaking out into action,\nthis is all that can be expected in such a creature as man.  And though\nthe appetites and passions have not their exact due proportion to each\nother, though they often strive for mastery with judgment or reflection,\nyet, since the superiority of this principle to all others is the chief\nrespect which forms the constitution, so far as this superiority is\nmaintained, the character, the man, is good, worthy, virtuous.\n\n{8}  Chap. iii., ver. 6.\n\n{9}  Job xiii. 5.\n\n{10}  Eccles. x. 3.\n\n{11}  Prov. x. 19.\n\n{12}  Mark xii. 38, 40.\n\n{13}  There being manifestly this appearance of men's substituting others\nfor themselves, and being carried out and affected towards them as\ntowards themselves; some persons, who have a system which excludes every\naffection of this sort, have taken a pleasant method to solve it; and\ntell you it is _not another_ you are at all concerned about, but your\n_self only_, when you feel the affection called compassion, _i.e._ Here\nis a plain matter of fact, which men cannot reconcile with the general\naccount they think fit to give of things: they therefore, instead of that\nmanifest fact, substitute _another_, which is reconcilable to their own\nscheme.  For does not everybody by compassion mean an affection, the\nobject of which is another in distress? instead of this, but designing to\nhave it mistaken for this, they speak of an affection or passion, the\nobject of which is ourselves, or danger to ourselves.  Hobbes defines\n_pity_, _imagination_, _or fiction of future calamity to ourselves_,\n_proceeding from the sense_ (he means sight or knowledge) _of another\nman's calamity_.  Thus fear and compassion would be the same idea, and a\nfearful and a compassionate man the same character, which every one\nimmediately sees are totally different.  Further, to those who give any\nscope to their affections, there is no perception or inward feeling more\nuniversal than this: that one who has been merciful and compassionate\nthroughout the course of his behaviour should himself be treated with\nkindness, if he happens to fall into circumstances of distress.  Is fear,\nthen, or cowardice, so great a recommendation to the favour of the bulk\nof mankind?  Or is it not plain that mere fearlessness (and therefore not\nthe contrary) is one of the most popular qualifications?  This shows that\nmankind are not affected towards compassion as fear, but as somewhat\ntotally different.\n\nNothing would more expose such accounts as these of the affections which\nare favourable and friendly to our fellow-creatures than to substitute\nthe definitions, which this author, and others who follow his steps, give\nof such affections, instead of the words by which they are commonly\nexpressed.  Hobbes, after having laid down that pity or compassion is\nonly fear for ourselves, goes on to explain the reason why we pity our\nfriends in distress more than others.  Now substitute the word\n_definition_ instead of the word _pity_ in this place, and the inquiry\nwill be, why we fear our friends, &c., which words (since he really does\nnot mean why we are afraid of them) make no question or sentence at all.\nSo that common language, the words _to compassionate_, _to pity_, cannot\nbe accommodated to his account of compassion.  The very joining of the\nwords to _pity our friends_ is a direct contradiction to his definition\nof pity: because those words, so joined, necessarily express that our\nfriends are the objects of the passion; whereas his definition of it\nasserts that ourselves (or danger to ourselves) are the only objects of\nit.  He might indeed have avoided this absurdity, by plainly saying what\nhe is going to account for; namely, why the sight of the innocent, or of\nour friends in distress, raises greater fear for ourselves than the sight\nof other persons in distress.  But had he put the thing thus plainly, the\nfact itself would have been doubted; that _the sight of our friends in\ndistress raises in us greater fear for ourselves than the sight of others\nin distress_.  And in the next place it would immediately have occurred\nto every one that the fact now mentioned, which at least is doubtful\nwhether, true or false, was not the same with this fact, which nobody\never doubted, that _the sight of our friends in distress raises in us\ngreater compassion than the sight of others in distress_: every one, I\nsay, would have seen that these are not the same, but _two different_\ninquiries; and, consequently, that fear and compassion are not the same.\nSuppose a person to be in real danger, and by some means or other to have\nforgot it; any trifling accident, any sound might alarm him, recall the\ndanger to his remembrance, and renew his fear; but it is almost too\ngrossly ridiculous (though it is to show an absurdity) to speak of that\nsound or accident as an object of compassion; and yet, according to Mr.\nHobbes, our greatest friend in distress is no more to us, no more the\nobject of compassion, or of any affection in our heart: neither the one\nnor the other raises any emotion in one mind, but only the thoughts of\nour liableness to calamity, and the fear of it; and both equally do this.\nIt is fit such sort of accounts of human nature should be shown to be\nwhat they really are, because there is raised upon them a general scheme,\nwhich undermines the whole foundation of common justice and honesty.  See\n_Hobbes of Human Nature_, c. 9. section 10.\n\nThere are often three distinct perceptions or inward feelings upon sight\nof persons in distress: real sorrow and concern for the misery of our\nfellow-creatures; some degree of satisfaction from a consciousness of our\nfreedom from that misery; and as the mind passes on from one thing to\nanother it is not unnatural from such an occasion to reflect upon our own\nliableness to the same or other calamities.  The two last frequently\naccompany the first, but it is the first _only_ which is properly\ncompassion, of which the distressed are the objects, and which directly\ncarries us with calmness and thought to their assistance.  Any one of\nthese, from various and complicated reasons, may in particular cases\nprevail over the other two; and there are, I suppose, instances, where\nthe bare _sight_ of distress, without our feeling any compassion for it,\nmay be the occasion of either or both of the two latter perceptions.  One\nmight add that if there be really any such thing as the fiction or\nimagination of danger to ourselves from sight of the miseries of others,\nwhich Hobbes specks of, and which he has absurdly mistaken for the whole\nof compassion; if there be anything of this sort common to mankind,\ndistinct from the reflection of reason, it would be a most remarkable\ninstance of what was furthest from his thoughts--namely, of a mutual\nsympathy between each particular of the species, a fellow-feeling common\nto mankind.  It would not indeed be an example of our substituting others\nfor ourselves, but it would be an example of user substituting ourselves\nfor others.  And as it would not be an instance of benevolence, so\nneither would it be any instance of self-love: for this phantom of danger\nto ourselves, naturally rising to view upon sight of the distresses of\nothers, would be no more an instance of love to ourselves than the pain\nof hunger is.\n\n{14}  Ecclus. xxxii. 28.\n\n{15}  Ecclus. xlii. 24.\n\n{16}  Ver. 4, 5.\n\n{17}  Ver. 6.\n\n{18}  Micah vi.\n\n{19}  Chap. xxii. 12.\n\n{20}  Ver. 21.\n\n{21}  Chap. iv.\n\n{22}  Chap. xxv.\n\n{23}  Chap. xxxi.\n\n{24}  Chap. ii.\n\n{24a}  In the Cassell edition the sermons jump from sermon VII to XI with\nno explanation as to where VIII, IX and X are.  I've left the numbering\nas is in case there is a good reason for it.--DP.\n\n{25}  P. 137.\n\n{26}  Matt. v. 48.\n\n{27}  1 Cor. xiii.\n\n{28}  For instance as we are not competent judges, what is upon the whole\nfor the good of the world, there _may_ be other immediate ends appointed\nus to pursue, besides that one of doing good or producing happiness.\nThough the good of the Creation be the only end of the Author of it, yet\nhe may have laid us under particular obligations, which we may discern\nand feel ourselves under, quite distinct from a perception, that the\nobservance or violation of them it for the happiness or misery of our\nfellow-creatures.  And this is in fart the ease, for there are certain\ndispositions of mind, and certain actions, which are in themselves\napproved or disapproved by mankind, abstracted from the consideration of\ntheir tendency to the happiness or misery of the world approved or\ndisapproved by reflection, by that principle within, whirls is the guile\nof life, the judge of right and wrong.  Numberless instances of this kind\nmight be mentioned.  There are pieces of treachery, which in themselves\nappear base and detestable to every one.  There are actions, which\nperhaps can scarce have any other general name given them than\nindecencies, which yet are odious and shocking to human nature.  There is\nsuch a thing as meanness, a little mind, which as it is quite distinct\nfrom incapacity, so it raises a dislike and disapprobation quite\ndifferent from that contempt, which men are too apt to have, of mere\nfolly.  On the other hand, what we call greatness of mind is the object\nof another most of approbation, than superior understanding.  Fidelity,\nhonour, strict justice, are themselves approved in the highest degree,\nabstracted from the consideration of their tendency.  Now, whether it be\nthought that each of these are connected with benevolence in our nature,\namid so may he considered as the same thing with it, or whether some of\nthem he thought an inferior kind of virtues and vices, somewhat like\nnatural beauties and deformities, or lastly, plain exceptions to the\ngeneral rule, thus such however is certain, that the things now instanced\nin, and numberless others, are approved or disapproved by mankind in\ngeneral, in quite another view than as conducive to the happiness or\nmisery of the world.\n\n{29}  St. Austin observes, Amor ipse ordinate amandus est, quo bene\namatur quod amandum sit, ut sit in nobis virtue qua vivitur bene, _i.e._\n_The affection which we rightly have for what is lovely must ordinate\njustly_, _in due manner end proportion_, _become the object of a new\naffection_, _or be itself beloved_, _in order to our being endued with\nthat virtue which is the principle of a good life_.  Civ. Dei, 1. xv. c.\n22.\n\n{30}  Job xxii.\n\n{31}  Job ix. 2.\n\n{32}  Eccius. xliii. 50.","title":"Human Nature, and Other Sermons","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":46962}