{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_54541/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_54541","id":"gutenberg_54541","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54541","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Church of England -- Sermons","Dialogues, English","Great Britain -- Civilization -- 17th century","Poetry -- History and criticism","Romances -- History and criticism"],"text":"[Transcriber\u2019s Note:\n\nItalicized text delimited by underscores.\n\nThere are many special characters in this text that require a utf-8\ncompliant font. If you find characters that appear as a question mark\nin a black box or a small rectangle with numbers in it, you should\ncheck your reader\u2019s default font. If you have a font installed with SIL\nafter the font name, you should use that one.]\n\n\n\n\n THE\n\n WORKS\n\n OF\n\n RICHARD HURD, D.D.\n\n LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.\n\n VOL. VI.\n\n Printed by J. Nichols and Son,\n Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.\n\n\n\n\n THE\n\n WORKS\n\n OF\n\n RICHARD HURD, D.D.\n\n LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.\n\n IN EIGHT VOLUMES.\n\n VOL. VI.\n\n [Illustration]\n\n LONDON:\n\n PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND.\n\n 1811.\n\n\n\n\n THEOLOGICAL WORKS.\n\n VOL. II.\n\n\n\n\n SERMONS\n\n PREACHED AT\n\n LINCOLN\u2019S-INN,\n\n BETWEEN THE YEARS 1765 AND 1776:\n\n WITH\n\n A LARGER DISCOURSE,\n\n ON\n\n CHRIST\u2019S DRIVING THE MERCHANTS\n OUT OF THE TEMPLE;\n\n IN WHICH THE NATURE AND END OF THAT FAMOUS\n\n TRANSACTION IS EXPLAINED.\n\n SATIS ME VIXISSE ARBITRABOR, ET OFFICIUM\n HOMINIS IMPLESSE, SI LABOR MEUS ALIQUOS\n HOMINES, AB ERRORIBUS LIBERATOS, AD ITER\n C\u0152LESTE DIREXERIT.\n LACTANTIUS.\n\n\n\n\n TO THE\n\n MASTERS OF THE BENCH\n\n OF THE HONOURABLE SOCIETY OF\n\n LINCOLN\u2019S INN,\n\n THE FOLLOWING SERMONS,\n\n IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF THEIR MANY AND\n\n GREAT FAVOURS,\n\n ARE BY THE AUTHOR\n\n MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nOF\n\nTHE SIXTH VOLUME.\n\n\n SERMON I. Preached Feb. 3, 1771.\n\n MAT. xiii. 51, 52.\n\n _Jesus saith unto them, Have ye understood\n all these things? They say unto him, Yea,\n Lord. Then said he unto them, Therefore\n every scribe which is instructed unto the\n kingdom of heaven, is like unto a man that\n is an householder, which bringeth forth out\n of his treasure things new and old._ 1\n\n\n SERMON II. Preached Nov. 8, 1767.\n\n 1 COR. x. 15.\n\n _I speak as to wise men: judge ye what I\n say._ 23\n\n\n SERMON III. Preached May 17, 1767.\n\n ROM. ii. 14, 15.\n\n _When the Gentiles, which have not the Law_,\n DO _by Nature the things contained in the\n Law, these, having not the Law, are a Law\n unto themselves: which shew the work of\n the Law written in their hearts, their_ CONSCIENCE\n _also bearing witness, and their\n thoughts in the mean while_ ACCUSING _or else_\n EXCUSING _one another_. 37\n\n\n SERMON IV. Preached May 24, 1767.\n\n GAL. iii. 19.\n\n _Wherefore then serveth the Law?_ 52\n\n\n SERMON V. Preached May 1, 1768.\n\n HEB. ii. 3.\n\n _How shall we escape, if we neglect so great\n Salvation?_ 67\n\n\n SERMON VI. Preached Nov. 16, 1766.\n\n JOHN xiv. 8.\n\n _Philip saith to him, Lord, shew us the Father,\n and it sufficeth us._ 83\n\n\n SERMON VII. Preached in the year 1771.\n\n JAMES iv. 1.\n\n _From whence come wars and fightings among\n you? Come they not hence, even of your\n lusts that war in your members?_ 101\n\n\n SERMON VIII. Preached April 29, 1770.\n\n 1 TIM. i. 5.\n\n _The end of the Commandment is Charity, out of\n a pure heart, and of a good conscience, and\n of faith unfeigned._ 116\n\n\n SERMON IX. Preached Nov. 9, 1766.\n\n ROM. xii. 10.\n\n \u2014_In honour preferring one another._ 130\n\n\n SERMON X. Preached May 6, 1770.\n\n JOHN xiii. 8.\n\n \u2014_Jesus answered him, if I wash thee not,\n thou host no part with me._ 143\n\n\n SERMON XI. Preached June 20, 1773.\n\n MARK ix. 49.\n\n _For every one shall be salted with fire, and\n every sacrifice shall be salted with salt._ 160\n\n\n SERMON XII. Preached Feb. 9, 1766.\n\n GAL. vi. 3.\n\n _If a man think himself to be something, when\n he is nothing, he deceiveth himself._ 174\n\n\n SERMON XIII. Preached May 16, 1773.\n\n 2 COR. x. 12.\n\n _We dare not make ourselves of the number, or\n compare ourselves, with some that commend\n themselves: But they, measuring themselves\n by themselves, and comparing themselves\n among themselves, are not wise._ 187\n\n\n SERMON XIV. Preached April 27, 1766.\n\n St. MARK iv. 24.\n\n _Take heed what ye hear._\n\n Or, as the equivalent phrase is in\n\n St. LUKE, viii. 18.\n\n _Take heed_ HOW _ye hear_. 201\n\n\n SERMON XV. Preached Nov. 24, 1765.\n\n ROM. xvi. 19.\n\n _I would have you wise unto that which is good,\n and simple concerning evil._ 215\n\n\n SERMON XVI. Preached Dec. 1, 1765.\n\n ROM. xvi. 19.\n\n _I would have you wise unto that which is good,\n and simple concerning evil._ 230\n\n\n SERMON XVII. Preached Nov. 22, 1772.\n\n JOHN v. 44.\n\n _How can ye believe, which receive honour one\n of another, and seek not the honour that\n cometh of God only?_ 245\n\n\n SERMON XVIII. Preached April 23, 1769.\n\n JOHN ix. 41.\n\n _Jesus saith to them, If ye were blind, ye should\n have no sin; but now ye say, we see; therefore\n your sin remaineth._ 260\n\n\n SERMON XIX. Preached May 12, 1771.\n\n 1 COR. viii. 1.\n\n _Knowledge puffeth up; but Charity edifieth._ 276\n\n\n SERMON XX. Preached Nov. 19, 1769.\n\n ACTS OF THE APOSTLES xxvi. 9.\n\n _I verily thought with myself, that I ought to\n do many things contrary to the name of\n Jesus of Nazareth._ 290\n\n\n SERMON XXI. Preached May 10, 1767.\n\n St. LUKE vi. 26.\n\n _Woe unto you, when all men speak well of you._ 304\n\n\n SERMON XXII. Preached Feb. 6, 1774.\n\n St. JOHN viii. 11.\n\n _Jesus said to her, Neither do I condemn thee;\n Go, and sin no more._ 319\n\n\n SERMON XXIII. Preached March 1, 1772.\n\n St. MATTHEW xi. 29.\n\n _Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in\n heart: and ye shall find rest unto your\n souls._ 333\n\n\n SERMON XXIV. Preached April 30, 1769.\n\n LUKE xvi. 14.\n\n _And the Pharisees also, who were covetous,\n heard all those things: and they derided\n him._ 350\n\n\n SERMON XXV. Preached June 25, 1775.\n\n ECCLESIASTES v. 10.\n\n _He that loveth silver, shall not be satisfied\n with silver._ 366\n\n\n SERMON XXVI. Preached Feb. 21, 1773.\n\n 1 COR. vi. 20.\n\n _Therefore glorify God in your body, and in\n your spirit, which are God\u2019s._ 378\n\n\n SERMON XXVII. Preached March 13, 1774.\n\n JOB xiii. 26.\n\n _Thou writest bitter things against me, and\n makest me to possess the iniquities of my\n youth._ 393\n\n\n SERMON XXVIII. Preached May 28, 1769.\n\n ECCLESIASTES vii. 21, 22.\n\n _Take no heed unto all words that are spoken,\n lest thou hear thy servant curse thee. For\n oftentimes, also, thine own heart knoweth,\n that thou thyself, likewise, hast cursed\n others._ 407\n\n\n\n\nSERMON I.\n\nPREACHED FEBRUARY 3, 1771.\n\nST. MATTH. xiii. 51, 52.\n\n_Jesus saith unto them, Have ye understood all these things? They say\nunto him, Yea, Lord. Then said he unto them, Therefore every scribe\nwhich is instructed unto the kingdom of heaven, is like unto a man that\nis an householder, which bringeth forth out of his treasure things new\nand old._\n\n\nIf there be any difficulty in these words, it will be removed by\nconsidering the _manners_ of that time, in which Jesus lived, and the\n_ideas_ of those persons, to whom he addressed himself.\n\nThe Israelites were a plain, frugal people; abundantly supplied\nwith all things needful to the convenient support of life, but\nvery sparingly with such as come under the notion of ornaments or\nsuperfluities. They drew their means of subsistence chiefly from\npasturage, agriculture, and other rural occupations. Gold and Silver\nwas scarce among the ancient Jews; and the less necessary to them, as\nthey had little traffic among themselves, and still less with their\npagan neighbours; the wisdom of their Law having purposely restrained,\nand, upon the matter, prohibited, all the gainful ways of commerce.\n\nNow, to a people, thus circumstanced, unfurnished, in a good degree,\nwith arts and manufactures, and but slenderly provided with the _means\nof exchange_ for the commodities they produce; management, thrift,\nand what we call _good husbandry_, must have been a capital virtue.\n_Householders_ were especially concerned to hoard up, and keep by them,\nin readiness, all such things as might be requisite either to cloath or\nfeed their respective families. And therefore, as they were continually\nmaking fresh additions to their stock, so they carefully preserved\nwhat things they had, provided they were of a nature to be preserved,\nalthough time and use had impaired the grace, or diminished the\nvalue, of them. Thus, they had things _new and old_ laid up in their\nstore-house, or _treasury_ (for these provisions were indeed their\n_treasure_), which, as the text says, they could _bring forth_, on any\nemergency that called for them.\n\nAnd to this Jewish _Householder_, thus furnished and prepared for all\noccasions, our Lord compares _the scribe, instructed unto the kingdom\nof heaven_, in other words, the minister, or preacher of the Gospel.\nEvery such _scribe_ was to be suitably provided with what might be\nserviceable to those committed to his charge: And the Text delivers\nit, as _a general inference_ from the example of Christ himself (who,\nfrom a variety of topics, some _new_, some _old_, had been instructing\nhis disciples in this chapter), that WE, the teachers of his religion,\nshould likewise have in store a variety of knowledge for the supply\nof his church, and that we should not be backward or sparing, as we\nsee occasion, in the use of it. THEREFORE, says he, that is, _for\nthis end_[1] that your respective charges may be well and perfectly\ninstructed by you, as you have been by me, _every scribe, which is\ninstructed unto the kingdom of heaven, is like unto a man that is an\nhouseholder, which bringeth forth out of his treasure things new and\nold_.\n\nIt is true, if this instruction of our Lord and Master had concerned\n_only_ the preachers of the word, I might have found a fitter place and\noccasion for a discourse upon it. But the case is much otherwise; and\nit concerns _all_ the faithful to understand what the duty of those is,\nwho are intrusted to dispense the word of life, lest they take offence\nat the ministry, without cause, and so deprive themselves of the fruit\nwhich they might otherwise reap from it.\n\nLet me therefore lay before you some plain considerations on the\naphorism in the text; and submit it to yourselves how far they may\ndeserve the notice of all Christians.\n\nIt would be ridiculous, no doubt, to torture a meer figure of speech;\nand to pursue a metaphor through all the minute applications, which an\nordinary imagination might find or invent for it. But I shall not be\nsuspected of trifling in this sort, when I only conclude, from the\ncomparison of a _Christian Scribe_ to the _Jewish Householder_;\n\nI. That all the treasures of knowledge, which the MINISTER OF THE\nGOSPEL may have laid up in his mind, are destined, _not to the purposes\nof vanity, but to the use of his charge_; for such must have been the\nintention of a reasonable _Householder_, in the stock of provisions he\nhad so carefully collected:\n\nII. That such use must be estimated from the apparent _wants of those,\nto whom this knowledge is dispensed_; for so the frugal _householder_\nexpends his provisions on those who evidently stand in need of them: And\n\nIII. Lastly, That among these wants, some, at certain conjunctures,\nmay be _more general_, or _more pressing_, than ordinary; and then his\nfirst care must be to relieve these, though other real, and perhaps\nconsiderable wants, be, for the present, neglected by him: just, again,\nas the discreet _householder_ is anxious to provide against an uncommon\ndistress that befalls his whole family, or the greater part of it, or\nthat threatens the immediate destruction of those whom it befalls,\nthough he suspend his care, for a season, of particular, or less\nmomentous distresses.\n\nIn these THREE respects, then, I propose to illustrate and enforce the\ncomparison of the Text, without any apprehension of being thought to do\nviolence to it.\n\nI. The knowledge of a _well-instructed Scribe_ must be directed to the\nedification of his charge, and not at all to the gratification of his\nown vanity.\n\nThis conclusion results immediately from the _subject_ of the\ncomparison. For the _Christian Scribe_ is not compared to a _prince_,\nwho is allowed, and even expected, to consult his own state and\nmagnificence; or, to one of those popular _magistrates_ in ancient\ntimes, whose office it was to exhibit splendid shews, and furnish\nexpensive entertainments, to their fellow-citizens: but to a plain\nJewish _householder_, who had nothing to regard beyond the necessary,\nor, at most, decent accommodation of his family.\n\nAnd the comparison is _aptly_ made, as we shall see if we consider,\neither the _end_ of a preacher\u2019s office, or the _decorum_ of his\ncharacter.\n\nHis OFFICE obliges him to intend the most essential interests of\nmankind, the reformation of their lives, and the salvation of their\nsouls. And when the object of his care is so important, what wonder if\nall inferior considerations fall before it?\n\nBesides, the Christian preacher has a _commission_ to discharge, a\ndivine _message_ to deliver. And in such a case, men look not for\ningenuity, but fidelity. An ancient, or a modern sophist may make\nwhat excursions he thinks fit into the wide fields of science; and\nmay entertain us with his learning, or his wit, as he finds himself\nable. He _may_, I say, do this; for he has only to recommend himself\nto our esteem, and to acquire a little popular reputation. But WE\nhave a _dispensation_ committed to us, _a form of sound words_, from\nwhich we must not depart, _a doctrine_, which we are to deliver with\n_uncorruptness_, _gravity_, _sincerity_[2]. We please not men, but God;\nor if men, _to their good_, only, _to edification_[3].\n\nThe DECORUM of our character requires, too, that we be superior to all\nthe arts of vanity and ostentation. Even in secular professions, it is\nexpected that this rule of propriety be observed. A _Physician_ would\nbe ridiculous, that was more curious in penning a prescription, than in\nweighing the matter of it: and the _Advocate_ would be little esteemed,\nthat should be more solicitous to display himself, than to serve his\nclient. How much more then may it be expected from _a preacher of\nrighteousness_, that HE should forget his own personal importance amid\nthe high concerns of his profession!\n\nAnd such was indeed the conduct of our best guides, in the ministry.\nThe ancient Fathers were, many of them, richly furnished with all the\nendowments, that might be required to set themselves off to the utmost\nadvantage. Yet we find them, in their homilies and discourses to the\npeople, inattentive to every thing but their main end; delivering\nthemselves, with an energy indeed, but a plainness and even negligence\nof expression[4], that tempts frivolous readers, sometimes, to make\na doubt of their real, and, from other monuments of their skill and\npains, unquestioned abilities.\n\nAnd, in this contempt of secular fame, they did but copy the example\nof St. Paul himself, the great Apostle of the Gentiles; who, though\ndistinguished by the sublimest parts, though profound in his knowledge\nof the Law, and not unacquainted with Gentile learning, affected no\ndisplay either of his natural or acquired talents, but, as he tells\nus himself (and his writings attest the truth of his declaration),\n_determined to know nothing_, among the faithful, _save Jesus Christ,\nand him crucified_[5].\n\nNot that what abilities we have, are always to lie concealed. There are\noccasions, no doubt, when they may properly, that is, usefully, be\nexerted. But the minister of the Gospel does not go in quest of such\noccasions: he only adapts himself to them, when they come in his way;\nand then pursues them no farther than the end, he has in view, the\nedification of others, not his own credit, demands from him.\n\nBy this rule, the preachers of the word are to conduct themselves.\nBy the same rule, it will, therefore, be but just to estimate their\ncharitable labours; and, when we see nothing to admire in them, to\nconclude, That this plainness of character may not be always owing\nto incapacity, but sometimes, at least, to discretion and the higher\nregards of duty.\n\nAnd this candour, as liable as it is to misinterpretation, will not be\nthought excessive, if you reflect, that, as, in general, they are bound\nto consult the good of their charge, and to deliver nothing to their\nauditors, but what they foresee, or presume at least, will be _useful_\nto them: So\n\nII. In the next place, The _degree_ of that utility must be regarded by\nthe prudent dispenser of God\u2019s word, and can only be estimated by the\napparent _wants_ of those, to whom his instructions are addressed.\n\nIt is an especial part of the _householder\u2019s_ prudence to take care,\nthat his treasure be laid out on those, who have most need of it.\nHe has enough to do, perhaps, to satisfy the more pressing demands\nof his domestics; and the rules of a good \u0153conomy require that he\nregard those, before their humourous inclinations, or even their more\ntolerable necessities. To speak in Jewish ideas, He, that wants a\n_coat_, to defend himself from the injuries of the weather, must be\nsupplied with that necessary garment, though he go without a _cloak_;\nor, when a piece of _bread_ is called for, it must be administered\nto the hungry, though others be made to wait for their delicacies of\n_milk_ and _honey_; or, a lamb from the fold may be served up at an\nordinary feast, while the _fatted calf_ is reserved for some more\nsolemn occasion.\n\nJust thus it is in the dispensation of the word. We apply ourselves,\nfirst and principally, to relieve the more importunate demands of our\nhearers; and, not being able, at the same time, to provide for all, we\nprefer the case of those who are starving for the want of necessary\ninstruction, to that of others who are in a condition to subsist on\nwhat hath already been imparted to them.\n\nHence it is, that we are most frequent in pressing the fundamental\ntruths of the Gospel: as well knowing, that very many have yet to\nlearn, or at least to digest, the first principles of their religion;\nand that few, in comparison, are either prepared, or enough disposed,\n_to go on to perfection_.\n\nThere are those, perhaps, who expect us to clear up some nice point\nof casuistry, or to lay open to them the grounds and reasons of some\nobnoxious article in the Christian Creed: in a word, they would take\nit kindly of us, if, dropping the common topics, which have been long\nand much worn in the service of religion, we provided some fresh ones,\nfor their entertainment; and instead of the stale fragments, which are\nalways at hand, and lie open to all the family, we served up to them\nsomething of better taste from the inner rooms of our store-house,\nwhere our choicest viands are laid up. All this is extremely well:\nand in due season, so far as is fitting, the charitable dispenser\nof God\u2019s word will not be wanting to their expectations; for he has\ngathered nothing, however rare or exquisite, in the course of his\n_household_ industry, of which he does not wish them to partake. But,\nfor the present, he finds this indulgence to be out of place: he sees,\nthat the plainest duties of life, and the most unquestioned articles\nof the faith, are, first of all, to be inculcated: he perceives, that\nnumbers want to be put in mind of old practical truths; and perhaps he\nunderstands, that even those, who are the most forward to call out for\nnovelties in speculation, do not make this demand with the best grace.\nHe could amuse them, it may be, with a curious theological Lecture:\nbut what if their sense of divine things be dead? what if they want to\nhave their minds stimulated by the admonitions, and their consciences\nalarmed with the terrors, of the Gospel?\n\nThe question is not put at hazard. For so, the Roman Governor was\nimpatient _to hear St. Paul concerning the faith in Christ_; when yet\nthe Apostle chose to _reason_ with him _of righteousness, temperance,\nand judgement to come_: plain moral topics, such as had often been\ndiscussed before him in the schools of philosophy, but were now resumed\nto good purpose; for in the end, we are told, _Felix trembled_.\n\nEven, in the case of those, who may be decent in their lives, who are\nenough instructed in what is called morality, nay, and would take it\nill to be thought wanting in a competent share of religious knowledge,\na discourse on _the elements of the faith_ may not be, altogether,\nunseasonable. For there are, of these, who exclude _Religion_, from\ntheir scheme of morality; or _Christianity_, from their scheme\nof religion; or who, professing Christianity, scarce know what\n_Redemption_ means: who are yet to learn with what awful, yet filial\npiety, they are to look up to God _the Father_; who reflect not, what\ntranscendant honour is due from them to God _the Son_; and who have\nscarce, perhaps, heared, or have little regarded, whether there _be any\nHoly Ghost_.\n\nIf any such attend our assemblies, think not much that we are ready\nto impart to them the plainest, the commonest, because the most\n_necessary_, instruction: and, though we would consult the wants of\nall, you are not to be surprized, or disgusted, if we run to the\nrelief of those first, who want our assistance most; and, like the\ngood _householder_, bestow our _old things_ on the needy and indigent,\nbefore we expend our _new_ on the curious and delicate; who might, we\nwill say, be better accommodated with them, but are not, in the mean\ntime, destitute of what is needful to their spiritual life. But\n\nIII. This care is more especially required of the Christian Scribe,\nwhen his charge is exposed, in certain conjunctures, to new and\nextraordinary wants, which, if not relieved in the instant, may grow to\nbe ruinous, and absolutely fatal: then, above all, he is to consider,\nnot what instruction is most acceptable to his hearers, but what their\ncritical situation demands.\n\nFor, here again, the example of the watchful and beneficent\n_householder_, is our direction. The season may be uncommonly severe\nand inclement: or, a dangerous, perhaps a contagious disease, afflicts\nhis family; and then the warmest, although the coarsest, clothing must\nbe sought out for the _naked_; and not the most palatable, but the most\nwholesome food, must be administered to the _sick_.\n\nDisasters, like these, sometimes befall the household of Christ. A\ncold atheistic spirit prevails, and chills the vital principles of\nall virtue, as well as religion: or a pestilent heresy spreads its\nvenom through the church, and turns the medicine of life itself, the\nsalutary instruction of God\u2019s word, unless prepared and applied by\nskilful hands, into a deadly poison. Then it is that the well-appointed\nScribe emulates the generous care and pains of the good _householder_;\nand whatever he has in store, of ancient or modern collection, whether\nof philosophy or criticism, whether of eloquent persuasion or sound\nlogic, all must be brought forth, to warm the piety, or to purify the\nfaith, of his hearers.\n\nWe, of this nation, have not been so happy as to want examples of such\ndistresses.\n\n1. The fanatical sects, that sprung up in abundance amid the confusions\nof the last century, had so corrupted the word of God by their impure\nglosses on the Gospel-doctrine of Grace, that the age became immoral on\nprinciple, and, under the name of _Saints_, engendered a hateful brood\nof profligate _Antinomians_; that is, a sort of Christians, if they may\nbe so called, _who turned the grace of God into licentiousness_, and,\nto magnify his goodness, very conscientiously transgressed his Laws. In\na word, they taught, that the _elect_ were above ordinances, and might\nbe saved without, nay in defiance of, the moral Law.\n\nThis horrid divinity struck so directly at the root of all true\nreligion, that it could not but alarm the zeal of good men.\nAccordingly, about the time of the Restoration, and for some years\nafter it, a number of eminent Divines (and ONE especially, well known,\nand deservedly honoured, in this place[6]) bent all their nerves to\nexpose and confound so pernicious a heresy: and with so invincible a\nforce of plain and perspicuous reasoning, as brought most men to their\nsenses, and effectually silenced, or disgraced, the rest. They opened\nthe grounds and obligations of morality so plainly, and set the Gospel\nscheme of salvation _through faith, working by charity_, in so full and\nstriking a light, that injured _Virtue_ recovered her ancient honours,\nand yet was taught to acknowledge a just dependance on saving _Faith_.\n\nSuch was the triumph of enlightened reason and well-interpreted\nScripture over _Antinomianism_: while yet many perverse, and more\nmistaken, hearers of those days, were ready to revile their teachers,\nfor dwelling so much and so long on these _old_ topics, and would have\ngladly received other, and more _novel_ instructions, at their hands.\n\n2. But now the licence of that age, which followed the Restoration, was\ngone over, on the sudden, into other extravagances, equally ruinous to\nthe souls of men.\n\nIt had been made too clear to be denied, that moral righteousness is of\nindispensable obligation, so long as there is a God to serve, or common\nsense is allowed to have any hand in explaining his laws. To get rid\nthen of so inconvenient a restraint, as genuine morality; many daring\nspirits of that time, rushed into _Atheism_; while the more timid,\ntook refuge in _Popery_. For, to disown a moral Governour, or to admit\nthat any observances of superstition can release men from the duty of\nobeying him, equally serves the purpose of those, who resolve to be as\nwicked as they dare, or as little virtuous as they can.\n\nThese new evils, each of which, in its turn, the court itself had\ncountenanced, or introduced, called for fresh remedies; and it was\nnot long before they were administered, with effect. The same eminent\npersons, who had vindicated moral virtue, now supported the cause of\n_piety_, and of _protestantism_, with equal success. They overturned\nall the prophaneness, and all the philosophy of _Atheism_, from its\nfoundations: and, with resistless argument, baffled the presumption,\nand beat down the sophistry, of the church of Rome. Yet these matchless\nservants of truth were charged by some, with indiscretion in bringing\nto light all the horrors of atheistic impiety, though in order to\nexpose them; and with preposterous zeal, in directing all their efforts\nagainst Popery, though it wore, at that time, so malignant an aspect on\nall our dearest interests.\n\nThey were not, however, diverted by these clamours from pursuing their\nhonest purposes: and we owe it to them, in a great measure, that these\ntwo systems of iniquity, I mean, Atheism, and Popery, are no longer in\nrepute among us.\n\n3. Still, the state of the times may be altered, without being much\nimproved. For, though few will avow direct Atheism, and not many, I\nhope, are proselyted to Popery, yet the number of those is not small,\nwho are but Protestants, in name; and scarce Deists, in reality. Many\nprofess, or secretly entertain, a disbelief of all revealed Religion;\nand many more take unwarrantable liberties with the Christian faith,\nthough they pretend to respect it. At the same time, as extremes beget\neach other, there are those who seem relapsing into the old exploded\nfanaticism of the last age; from a false zeal, it may be, to counteract\nthe ill impression of those other licentious principles.\n\nThus is the unbalanced mind of man always shifting from one excess into\nanother; and rarely knows to sustain itself in that just _mean_, which\npure religion and right reason demand. Wonder not therefore, that our\ncares are still suited to the exigencies of our hearers; and that we\nlabour to supply them with that provision of sacred truth, which they\nmost want; that we strive to excite in them awful ideas of God\u2019s moral\ngovernment; are _instant in season and out of season_ to assert the\nutility, the importance, the necessity of divine revelation; and are\nanxious to maintain the prerogatives of Christian faith, yet without\ndepreciating the moral Law, or infringing the rights of natural reason:\nthat we admonish you to think soberly, to inquire modestly, and to\nbelieve what the word of God expressly teaches, though ye do not,\nand can not, many times, comprehend the height and depth of divine\nwisdom: that we remember, in short, what is required of Stewards, who\nare appointed to dispense the treasures of Christian knowledge, and to\nsuperintend the _household_ of God.\n\nI have now gone through the several topics, which our Lord\u2019s parable of\nthe _Householder_ seemed naturally to suggest to me: not so much with\na view to make our own apology (for if we do not our duty, we deserve,\nand if we do, we want, none) as to set before you a just idea of our\noffice and ministry, that so ye may judge rightly and equitably of\nus, for your own sakes. For it is not indifferent to the _household_,\nwhat opinion is entertained of the _Householder_. Many will not suffer\nhim to _relieve_ their wants, or perhaps acknowledge they _have_ any\n_wants_ to be relieved, if they do not conceive with some respect of\nhis discretion, at least, and good-will.\n\nAnd though, in the discharge of our duty to all, we may seem to neglect\nmany, and may even dissatisfy, nay offend some; yet, on reflexion, you\nwill see that we are not wanting to our trust\u2014if we always endeavour\nto dispense _salutary_ doctrines\u2014if, especially, we dispense _such_\nas the apparent and urgent necessities of men call for\u2014and, above\nall, if we be ready to dispense _all_ our treasures, _new_ and _old_,\nwhen the more alarming distresses of the Christian church require, on\noccasion, our best attention and liberality.\n\nTo conclude: We respect your good opinion; nay, perhaps, are too\nsolicitous to obtain it. But we would, or we should, in the first\nplace, please him, who hath called us to _serve_, and expects us to be\n_faithful, in all his house_[7]. For we presume to be something more\nthan Orators, or Philosophers, plausible and artificial discoursers,\nwho have nothing in view but their own credit, and are eloquent or\ningenious, that is, _vain_, by profession. We have a character to\nsustain of greater dignity, but less ostentation. _For_ WE _preach not\nourselves, but Christ Jesus our Lord; and ourselves, your servants for\nJesus sake[8]._\n\n\n\n\nSERMON II.\n\nPREACHED NOVEMBER 8, 1767.\n\n1 COR. x. 15.\n\n_I speak as to wise men: judge ye what I say._\n\n\nThough St. Paul said this to the Corinthians, on a particular occasion,\nin reference to a single argument he was then prosecuting, and possibly\nnot without an intended sarcasm on those whom he here qualifies with\nthe name of _Wise men_, yet the words themselves express the Apostle\u2019s\n_own constant practice_; and what is more, they express the _general\nspirit and genius_ of that Religion, which he was commissioned to\nteach.\n\nFor the Christian Religion, divine as it is in its origin, sublime in\nits precepts, and profound in its mysteries, yet condescends to apply\nitself to the rational faculties of mankind; and, secure in its own\nnative truth and evidence, challenges the wise and learned to _judge_\nof its pretentions.\n\nSo that we may regard the declaration of the text, as a standing\nprecept to the Ministers of the word, _to speak as to wise men_; and\nto the hearers of it, to use their best faculties, _in judging of what\nthey say_.\n\nThese then shall be the _two parts_ of my discourse upon it. _Each_\nwill suggest some important reflexions to the persons respectively\nconcerned; to US, who preach the word, and to YOU, who hear it.\n\nI. The Religion of Jesus was designed for the instruction of all\nsorts and degrees of men. Nay, it is even alledged as one mark of its\ndivinity by Jesus himself, that not only the rich and wise, but the\n_poor_ and simple, _have the Gospel preached unto them_[9]. And from\nthe different reception of it, at first, by these two sets of men, we\nmay perhaps see which of them deserved it most. But be this as it will,\nthe Christian Religion was destined for the use of all mankind. Its\nsaving truths are to be made known to all: yet with some difference in\nthe _mode_ of teaching them, according to the capacities of those to\nwhom they are addressed.\n\nTO PLAIN AND ILLITERATE MEN, who have no prejudices to counteract the\nvirtue of God\u2019s word, and no pride of reason or science to question\nits authority, the true and proper way is, no doubt, to represent the\ngreat truths of the Gospel, simply and clearly, accompanied with its\nmore general and obvious proofs, and enforced upon them with all the\nearnestness of exhortation. These _proofs_, and this _exhortation_,\ncarry such light and force in them, as may be reasonably expected to\nhave an effect upon all men: yet to the WISE, who are prompted by their\ncuriosity, to habits of inquiry, to _ask a reason of the hope that is\nin us_[10], and who are qualified by their parts and studies to _judge_\nof such reason, we are instructed to address a more elaborate _answer_,\nor apology.\n\nThe question then will be, ON WHAT PRINCIPLES SUCH APOLOGY MUST BE\nFORMED? A question the more important, because the apologies of all\ntimes have been too generally constructed on false and pernicious\nprinciples; on _such_ as cannot support, but rather tend to weaken and\ndisgrace, the very cause they would defend.\n\nSuch were the apologies, many times, of the _ancient Christians_, who\nwould incorporate with the divine religion of Jesus the vain doctrines\nof the Gentile philosophy: and such have been too often the more\n_modern apologies_, which debase the word of God, and corrupt it, with\nthe dreams of our presumptuous metaphysics.\n\nOur Religion has suffered much in both these ways: not, that reason or\nphilosophy of any kind, truly so called, can dis-serve the cause of\na _divine_ Religion; but that we reason and philosophize _falsely_,\nor _perversely_; that is, we apply falshood to truth; or, we misapply\ntruth itself, in subjecting the incomprehensible mysteries of our faith\nto the scrutiny and minute discussion of our best reason.\n\nFrom these miscarriages, we are admonished what to _avoid_: the example\nof the Apostle Paul, who _spake as to wise men_, may instruct us in the\nright way of _prosecuting_ the defence of the Gospel.\n\nFrom _him_, then, we learn to frame our answers and apologies to\ninquisitive men, on the great established truths of natural and\nrevealed Religion; to assert the expediency of divine Revelation, from\nthe acknowledged weakness and corruption of human nature, and from\nthe moral attributes of the Deity; to illustrate the \u0153conomy of God\u2019s\ndispensations to mankind by arguments taken from that \u0153conomy itself:\nto reason with _reverence_[11] on the nature of those dispensations, to\nshew what their general scope and purpose is, how perfect an agreement\nthere is between them, and how divinely they are made to depend on each\nother.\n\nIn doing this, we shall find room for the exercise of our best and\nmost approved reason: we shall look far ourselves, (and be able to let\nothers) into the harmony of the divine councils, as they are set before\nus in the inspired volumes: and, though we may not penetrate all the\ndepths and obscurities of those councils, yet, as in contemplating\nthe WORKS of God, which we know but in part, we can demonstrate his\n_eternal power and Godhead_, so, in studying his WORD, we shall see\nenough of his unsearchable wisdom and goodness, _to put to silence the\nignorance of foolish_, and to satisfy the inquiries of _wise_, men.\n\nI say, _to satisfy the inquiries of wise men_: for _wise men_ do not\nexpect to have all difficulties in a divine system cleared up, and\nevery minute question, which may be raised about it, answered (for\n_this_, God himself, the author and finisher of it, can only perform,\nand much _less_ than this is abundantly sufficient for our purpose);\nbut all they desire is to see the several parts of it so far cleared\nup, and made consistent with each other, and, upon the whole, to\ndiscover such evident marks of a superior wisdom, power, and goodness\nin the frame and texture of it, as may convince them that it is truly\ndivine, and worthy of the Supreme Mind to whom we ascribe it.\n\nWhen we speak _thus_ as to _wise men_, we do all that _wise men_\ncan require of us: if others be still unsatisfied, the fault is in\nthemselves; they are _curious_, but not wise.\n\nI lay the greater stress on this mode of defending the Christian\nReligion from _itself_, that is, by arguments taken from its own nature\nand essence, because it shortens the dispute with inquirers, and\nsecures the honour of that Religion, we undertake to defend.\n\nFirst, _It shortens the dispute with Inquirers_, by cutting off the\nconsideration of all those objections which men raise out of their own\nimaginations. The defender of Christianity is not concerned to obviate\nevery idle fancy, that floats in the head of a visionary objector. Men\nhave not the making of their Religion, but must take it for such as\nthe Scriptures represent it to be. And if we defend it on the footing\nof such representation, we do all that can be reasonably required of\nus. It is nothing to the purpose what men may imagine to themselves\nconcerning the marks and characters of a divine Revelation: it is\nenough, that there are _such marks and characters_ in the Religion\nof Jesus (whether more or fewer, whether the same or other, than we\nmight previously have expected, is of no moment) as shew it, in all\nreasonable construction, to be _divine_. And thus our labour with\nInquirers is much abridged, while all foreign and impertinent questions\nare rejected and laid aside.\n\nNext, this _mode_ of defence _secures the honour of that religion, we\nundertake to support_. For, if we fail in our endeavours to unfold some\nparts of the _Christian system_, we are but in the condition of those,\nwho would experimentally investigate and clear up some difficulties\nin _the system of nature_. Want of care, or diligence, or sagacity,\nmay subject both the Divine and the Philosopher to some mistakes:\nbut either system is the same still, and lies open to the pains and\nattention of more successful inquirers. Nobody concludes that the\nsystem of nature is not divine, because this or that Philosopher has\nbeen led by hasty experiments to misconceive of it. And nobody _should_\nconclude otherwise of the Christian system, though the Divine should\nerr as much in his scriptural comments and explications. Whereas,\nwhen we attempt to vindicate Christianity on principles not clearly\ncontained in the word of God, we act like those who form physical\ntheories on principles which have no foundation in _fact_. The\nconsequence is, That not only the labour of _each_ is lost, but the\nsystem itself, which each would recommend, being hastily taken for what\nit is unskilfully represented to be, is vilified and disgraced. For\nthus the _Christian system_ has in fact been reviled by such as have\nseen, or _would_ only see it, through the false medium of Popish or\nCalvinistical ideas: and thus the _system of nature itself_ hath, it is\nsaid, been blasphemed by ONE[12], who judged of it from the intricacies\nof a certain astronomical hypothesis. The remedy for this evil, is, to\nsolve scriptural difficulties by scriptural principles, and to account\nfor natural appearances by experimental observations: and then, though\nthe application of each may be mistaken, the system remains inviolate,\nand the honour both of God\u2019s WORD and WORKS is secured.\n\nAnd let thus much suffice, at present, for the duty _of him, who\nspeaketh as to wise men_. Much more indeed is required to the\n_integrity_, and still more to the _success_, of his defence. But\nhe that _speaketh, as the oracles of God_, that is, who defends a\ndivine Religion on its own divine principles, does that which is most\nessential to his office; and eminently discharges the part of a _wise\nspeaker_, since he plans his _defence_ in the best manner.\n\nII. It now remains to consider the other part of the text, which\nchallenges _the wise men_, to whom the Apostle _spake_, to JUDGE of\nwhat he said to them.\n\nFrom the time, this _challenge_ was given by the learned Apostle, there\nnever have been wanting _wise men_, disposed and forward to accept\nit. And thus far, all was well: for they had a right to exercise this\noffice of _judging for themselves_, if they were, indeed, capable of\nit. But have they considered, to what that _capacity_ amounts? and that\nmuch more is required to make a good JUDGE, than a good SPEAKER?\n\nLet us briefly _examine_ then the pretentions of those, who have at\nall times been so ready to sit in judgement on the Advocates for\nReligion, by the known qualities of a capable Judge: which, I think,\nare _Knowledge_, _Patience_, _Impartiality_, _Integrity_, under which\nlast name I include _Courage_.\n\n1. The first requisite in a Judge, is a competent _knowledge_ in the\nsubject of which he judges, without which his other qualities, how\nrespectable soever, are rendered useless. Nor is this knowledge, in\nthe present case, inconsiderable. For, to say nothing of _sacred\nand prophane Antiquity_, to say nothing of the _Sciences_, and above\nall, the science of _Ethics_, in its largest extent, the _Judge_ of\nreligious controversy must be well versed, because the _Advocate_ is\nrequired to be _supremely_ so, in the great _principles and doctrines_\nof natural and revealed Religion. To decide on _the merits of\nChristianity_, without this knowledge, would be as absurd, as to decide\non _the merits of the English jurisprudence_, without an acquaintance\nwith the _common law_, and the _Statute-book_.\n\n2. The next quality, required in a Judge, is _Patience_; or a\ndeliberate unwearied attention to the arguments and representations of\nthe Advocate, pleading before him. This attention is more especially\nexpected, when the subject in debate is important, when it is, besides,\nintricate, and when the Advocate is able.\n\nBut these circumstances all concur, in the case before us. If the\nquestion concerning the truth and authority of Revelation be a cause\nof any moment at all, it is confessedly of the greatest: Again, if the\nscheme of Revelation _be_, as it pretends to be, _divine_, it must\nrequire the best application of our best faculties to comprehend\nit; and, lastly, as the ablest men of all times, of every profession\nand denomination, have appeared in its defence, such advocates may\ndemand to be heared with all possible attention. For the Judge of\nsuch a cause, then, to confide in his own first thoughts, to listen\nnegligently and impatiently, and to precipitate his determination, must\nbe altogether unworthy the character he assumes.\n\n3. It is expected of a Judge that he be strictly _impartial_; that he\ncome to the trial of a cause without any previous bias on his mind, or\nany passionate and prevailing prejudices, in regard either to persons\nor things, which may indispose him to see the truth, or to respect it.\nAnd this turn of mind, so conducive to a right determination in all\ncases, is the more necessary here, where so many secret prejudices are\napt, without great care, to steal in and corrupt the judgement.\n\n4. The last quality, which men require in a Judge, is an inflexible\n_Integrity_: such as may infuse the virtue and the courage to give\nhis judgement according to his impartial sense of things, without any\nregard to the consequences, in which it may involve him. This constancy\nof mind may be put to no easy trial in the present case; when the\nJudge\u2019s determination may perhaps interest his whole future conduct;\nand when the censure, the scorn, and the displeasure of numbers, and\npossibly of those whom he has hitherto most considered and esteemed,\nmay be incurred by such determination.\n\nTHESE are the great essential qualities which we look for in a JUDGE,\nand which cannot be dispensed with in a Judge of _Religion_. How far\nall, or any of these qualities are to be found in those, who take\nto themselves this office, I have neither time, nor inclination,\nto consider. For my purpose is not to disparage those who have\nexercised the right of judging for themselves in the great affair of\nReligion, nor to discourage any man from doing himself this justice:\nbut simply to represent the difficulties, that lie in our way, and\nthe qualifications we must possess, if we would _judge a righteous\njudgement_.\n\nI leave it to yourselves, therefore, to apply these observations,\nas ye think fit. Ye will conclude, however, that to _judge_ of the\npretentions of your religion is no such easy task, as that any man,\nwithout _parts_, without _knowledge_, without _industry_, and without\n_virtue_, may presume to undertake it.\n\nThe sum of all I have said is, then, this. The Apostle, when he became\nan Advocate for the Gospel, condescended _to speak_, and it must\ntherefore be more especially the duty of its uninspired advocates to\n_speak as to wise men_; that is, to employ in its defence the powers\nof reason and wisdom, of which they are capable. But it will be\nremembered, too, that much, nay _more_, is required of the JUDGES of\nit; and that they must approve themselves, not only _wise_, but, in\nevery _moral_ sense, excellent men, before they are qualified to pass a\nfinal judgement on what such Advocates have to _say_ on so momentous a\ncause, as that of the CHRISTIAN RELIGION.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON III.\n\nPREACHED MAY 17, 1767.\n\nROM. ii. 14, 15.\n\n _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 Law\n unto themselves: which shew the work of the Law written in their\n hearts, their_ CONSCIENCE _also bearing witness, and their thoughts\n in the mean while_ ACCUSING _or else_ EXCUSING _one another_.\n\n\nThe scope of this chapter being to assert, that the Gentile, as well\nas Jew, had a right to be admitted into the Christian church, and\nthat he was equally entitled to share in the blessings of it, the\nApostle grounds his argument upon this Principle, \u201cThat, in the final\njudgement, there would be no respect of persons with God; but that\nGentiles, as well as Jews, would be recompensed in that day, if not in\nthe same degree, yet by the same rule of proportion, that is, according\nto their works.\u201d\n\nWhence it would follow, that, if this equal measure was to be dealt to\n_both_, in the _future judgement_, it could not seem strange if _both_\nwere to be admitted to the _present benefits and privileges_ of the\nGospel.\n\nBut to keep off a conclusion so uneasy to his inveterate prejudices,\nthe Jew would object to this reasoning, \u201cThat the Apostle\u2019s assumption\nmust be false; for that as God had given the Heathens no Law, they were\nnot accountable to him: that, as there could be no room for Punishment,\nwhere no Law forbade, so there could be no claim to Reward, where no\nLaw enjoined: and consequently, that the Heathen world, being left\nwithout Law, had no concern in a future recompence, at all.\u201d\n\nThis suggestion the Apostle obviates, by shewing the inconsequence of\nit. His answer is to this effect. You, says he, conclude, that the\nHeathens are not accountable, because they have no Law. But it no way\nfollows, because they had no Law extraordinarily revealed to them from\nHeaven, that therefore the Heathens had no Law, or Rule of life, at\nall. For these, _having no_ such _Law_, were a _Law unto themselves_;\nthat is, their natural reason and understanding was their Law.\n\nAnd, for the real existence of such natural Law, he appeals to the\nvirtuous ACTIONS of some Heathens, _who_ DO _by nature the things\ncontained in the Law_; who, besides, as it follows in the next verse,\n_shew the work of the Law written in their hearts, their consciences\nalso bearing witness, and their thoughts in the mean while accusing\nor else excusing one another_. In which last words are contained two\nadditional arguments in proof of the same point; the _first_, taken\nfrom their own CONSCIOUSNESS of such a Law; and the _second, from their\nreasonings between one another_, ACCUSING _or else_ EXCUSING: for this\nis the strict sense and literal construction of those words in the\noriginal, which we improperly translate\u2014_their thoughts in the mean\nwhile accusing or else excusing one another_[13].\n\nSo that in the verses of the Text we have a PROPOSITION asserted; and\nTHREE distinct arguments brought in proof of it. The proposition is,\n_that the Heathen are a Law unto themselves_, or, as it is otherwise\nexpressed, _have a Law written in their hearts_. The arguments in proof\nof it are, 1. The virtuous lives of some heathen, _doing by nature\nthe work of the Law_: 2. The force of _conscience_, testifying their\nknowledge of such Law: and, 3. lastly, their _private and judicial\nreasonings_ among themselves, referring to the confessed authority of\nit.\n\nIn conformity to this method of the Apostle, my business will be to\nopen and explain the several arguments in the order, in which they lie;\nand to confirm, by that means, the truth of his general Proposition,\n_That there is a natural Law, or Rule of moral action, written in the\nhearts of men_.\n\nI. The argument from the virtues of the heathen world, in proof of\na Law of nature, _written in the hearts of men_, will seem strange\nto some, who may object, \u201cThat, if the appeal be to _action_, it may\nwith greater reason be inferred, there was not any such law; since\nthe crimes and vices of the heathen world, as terribly set forth by\nSt. Paul himself in the preceding chapter, were far more notorious,\nthan its Virtues. So that if there be any force in St. Paul\u2019s appeal\nto the virtuous lives of some heathen, as evincing a Law, _written in\ntheir hearts_, because their practice was governed by it; the like\nappeal to the vicious lives of many more heathen, should seem with\nstill more force to prove the non-existence of such Law, in as much as\nit did _not_ govern their practice.\u201d But the answer is obvious. For\na law may be in part, or even totally, violated by persons under a\nfull conviction of its existence and obligation: whereas it is hard to\nimagine, that any number of men, of different times, in distant places,\nand under different circumstances of age, temper, and education, should\nexhibit in their lives the same tenour of action, without the guidance\nof some fixed and common Rule.\n\nThis then being observed, let us turn our eyes upon the heathen\nworld; on that part, more especially, which is best known to us\nfrom the authentic monuments of Greek and Roman story. For _bad_ as\nthat world was, it cannot be denied to have furnished many instances\nof extraordinary virtue. We find there _justice_, _temperance_,\n_fortitude_, and all those virtues, which their own Moralists called\n_Offices_, and which the sacred page has dignified with the name of\n_Graces_, exhibited in their fairest forms, and emulating, as it were,\neven Christian perfection[14].\n\nBut it will be said of _both_ these people, what was long since\nobjected by one of them to the other, that their actions were not so\nillustrious, as is pretended; that we take the accounts of them from\ntheir own interested relaters, to whose vanity or genius we are rather\nto impute the fine portraits, they have given us, of pagan virtue, than\nto real fact and the undisguised truth of things[15].\n\nBe this allowed. Still there will be ground enough to enforce the\nApostle\u2019s conclusion. For whence, if not from the source to which he\npoints, could be derived those numerous corresponding instances, though\nof faint, unfinished Virtue? how, but by _nature, did the heathen_,\nin any degree, _the things of the Law_? and whence, the traces of\nthat conduct in the pagan world, which the Law itself prescribed as\n_virtuous_?\n\nOr, were the evidence from _facts_ ever so suspicious, whence those\nadmired portraits and pictures themselves? or, by what accountable\nmeans has it come to pass, that their historians and panegyrists have\nbeen able to feign so successfully? In truth, had the pagan world\nafforded no _one_ instance of a virtuous people, I had almost said,\nno _one_ instance of a virtuous character, yet would the projected\nform of such a people, by one hand[16], and the delineation of such a\ncharacter, by another[17], have been a certain evidence of some Rule\nof life and manners, _written in the heart_, if not transcribed into\npractice; influencing the judgement to approve, if not the will to obey\nit. But this consideration, perhaps, comes more naturally under the\nsecond head of the Apostle\u2019s reasoning, which is drawn,\n\nII. _From the force of conscience in the heathen world._\n\nTo perceive the force of this argument, it must be remembered, That,\nby conscience, is only meant _a man\u2019s judgement concerning the quality\nof his own actions_; which judgement, however come at, whether by\nuse, or institution, by reason, or instinct, equally supposes some\n_Law_, or Rule of conduct, by which the nature of each action is\ntried, and by which its worth is estimated. Now it is of no moment in\nthe present case, from which soever of these sources that judgement\nis _immediately_ drawn, since it cannot but be, that some fixed\nprinciple, common to human nature, and of equal extent with it, must\nhave originally given birth to such judgement. For if _use_, or\n_institution_, be considered as the probable source of it, the question\nwill recur, whence that Use, or what the original of that Institution?\nA question, which cannot be resolved, unless we conceive some _natural\nlaw_, as working at the root, and branching out, as it were, into\n_Use_, or _Institution_.\n\nNor is it sufficient to say, _That the manners of different people\nare, and have been, widely different; and that conscience, or\nself-judgement, according as different notions or practices prevail,\ncondemns, or approves the very same action_. Without doubt, it does;\nbut the consequence is not, as some sceptical writers have imagined,\nthat there is no common principle of nature, distinguishing between\nright and wrong, or that moral action is of absolute indifference;\nbut that men are, and have been, careless and corrupt; that they have\neither not used the light of nature, or have some way abused it. For\nit holds of _Sentiment_, as of _Action_, that, though the agreement\nof numbers in all times and places be a good argument _for_ the\nexistence of some common rule of right, as effecting such agreement\n(because otherwise no tolerable account can be given of it); yet\nthe disagreement even of greater numbers is no proof _against_ the\nexistence of such Rule, as we can, without that supposition, give a\nsatisfactory account _of_ that disagreement. I call it _a satisfactory\naccount_; for it comes from St. Paul himself, who has taken care to\nobviate this plausible objection. If it be said then, _That the Heathen\napproved bad, and condemned good actions_, we own they sometimes did,\nbut answer with the Apostle, That, in such cases, _they became vain\nin their imaginations_, and that _their foolish heart was darkened_;\nthat, as they _did not search to retain God in their knowledge_, did\nnot exert their faculties to acquire or preserve a right sense of God\u2019s\nnature and will, _he gave them up to an unsearching mind_, suffered\nthem to darken and put out the light of their understandings, and so to\n_do_ [and to _approve_] _things that were not convenient_[18].\n\nThis being the true account of the diversity of human judgement, such\ndiversity only proves that the light of nature has been misused, not,\nthat it was never given. Whereas, on the other hand, if the Heathen\nworld can shew us, in general, a conformity of judgement in moral\nmatters, under their state of nature, with that of the world, under the\nlight of Revelation, what follows, but that they, _having not the Law,\nshew the work of the Law written in their hearts_?\n\nBut now that there was, in fact, such a conformity, we conclude from\n_the accounts of these times, the sense of writers, and the confessions\nof persons themselves_: the only means, by which a point of this nature\ncan be established. The pagan historians and moralists are full of such\nlessons, as we now profit by: and even their poets, on the stage itself\n(where _common_ nature is drawn for the sake of _common_ instruction)\nrepresent their characters, for the most part, as _good_ or _bad_,\naccording to the ideas we should now entertain of them. In writers\nof all sorts, we find abundant evidence of this truth. Numberless\npersons are upon record, who confess, in their own cases, and attest,\nthis uniform power of conscience. They applaud themselves for, what\n_we_ should call, _a well-spent life_, and they condemn themselves\nfor, what _we_ call, _a bad one_. To touch on a topic so known as\nthis, is, in effect, to exhaust it. I shall then but just point to\nthe great _Roman patriot_[19] exulting in the memory of his _Virtues_:\nand to the _Roman governour_[20], so famous in sacred writ, whom the\npreaching of Paul, in concurrence with his own heart, made tremble for\nhis _Vices_.\n\nIII. But if men did not feel the power of conscience operating\nwithin themselves, and declaring _a Law written in their hearts_,\nyet their daily conduct towards each other, in the civil concerns of\nlife, would evidently proclaim it. For observe how studious men are\nto repel an injurious imputation, fastened on a friend; and still\nmore, how they labour to assert their own innocence. What pains do\nwe see taken, to overthrow a _false_ evidence, and what colours of\nart do we see employed to palliate or disguise a _true_ one! No man\nneeds be told that this is the constant practice of Christians: and\n_did not the Heathens the same_? Here then is a fresh proof of the\npoint in question; an argument of familiar evidence arising from the\ntransactions of common life. For, in the altercations with each other,\nin reference to _right_ and _wrong_, there is manifestly supposed some\nprior Law of universal reason, to which the appeal on both sides is\ndirected, and by which the decision is finally to be made. And this, as\nthe Apostle\u2019s argument suggests, whichever of the contending parties be\nin the _wrong_: For the charging another with _wrong_ conduct, equally\nimplies a Rule, determining my judgement of moral action; as the\ndefending myself or others from such a charge, evinces my sense of it.\nThus, whether I _accuse_, or _answer for myself_, either way, I shew _a\nlaw written in my heart_; whence I estimate the _right_ or _wrong_ of\nthe supposed question. Thus much might be inferred from the ordinary\ntopics of _conversation_: but the case is still clearer, when they come\nto be debated _in courts of Justice_. More especially, therefore, the\nstruggles and contentions of the _Bar_ (for the terms, employed in the\ntext, being _forensic_, direct us chiefly to that interpretation), a\nseries of civil and judiciary pleadings, such as have been preserved to\nus, from heathen times, in the writings of a Demosthenes, or Cicero,\nare a standing, unanswerable argument for the existence of a _Rule\nof Right_, or _Law of natural reason_. For how should these debates\nbe carried on without a Rule, to which the advocates of either party\nrefer? or how should these judicial differences be composed, without\na common Law, to arbitrate between them? And what though the Law,\nreferred to, be a _written institute_: it was first _written in the\nheart_, before legislators transcribed it on brass, or paper.\n\nYou see then, the sum of the Apostle\u2019s reasoning stands thus. The\nHeathens, who had no revealed Law, DID _by nature, the things of the\nLaw_: their JUDGEMENT, too, of their own actions, conformed to the\njudgement of _the Law_: and, lastly, their DEBATES with one another,\nwhether public or private, concerning _right_ and _wrong_, evidenced\ntheir sense of some Law, which _Nature_ had prescribed to them.\n\nAnd in this fine chain of argument, we may observe the peculiar art, by\nwhich it is conducted, and the advantage, resulting from such conduct\nto the main conclusion. For if the argument from WORKS should seem\nof less weight (as it possibly might, after the Apostle\u2019s own charge\nupon the heathen world, and in that age of heathen corruption) yet the\nevidence arising from CONSCIENCE, which was an appeal to every man\u2019s\nown breast, could hardly be resisted: or, if conscience could be laid\nasleep (as it might be by vice and ill habits) it was impossible they\ncould deny the DEBATES among themselves, or not see the inference that\nmust needs be drawn from them.\n\nIt may, further, seem to have been with some propriety that the sacred\nreasoner employed these topics of argument, in an address to ROMANS:\nwho could not but feel the weight of them the more, as well knowing the\nancient VIRTUE of their country; as knowing too, that the Roman people\nhad been famous for their nice sense of right and wrong, or, in other\nwords, a moral CONSCIENCE; and that, as having been a free people, they\nhad been always accustomed to DEBATES about moral action, public and\nprivate.\n\nSuch is the force, and such the elegant disposition and address, of the\nApostle\u2019s reasoning. The conclusion follows irresistibly, _That there\nis a Law written in our hearts, or that, besides a Revealed Law, there\nis a law of natural reason_.\n\nThat this conclusion is not injurious to _revealed Law_, but indeed\nmost friendly and propitious to it; that, in particular, it no way\nderogates from the honour of the _Christian Law_, nor can serve in any\ndegree to lessen the value, or supersede the use and necessity of it; I\nshall attempt to shew in another discourse.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON IV.\n\nPREACHED MAY 24, 1767.\n\nGAL. iii. 19.\n\n_Wherefore then serveth the Law?_\n\n\nWhen the Apostle Paul had proved, in his Epistle to the Romans[21],\nthat if the _uncircumcision kept the righteousness of the Law, his\nuncircumcision would be accounted for circumcision_; that is, if the\nGentile observed the _moral law_, which was his proper rule of life, he\nwould be accepted of God, as well as the Jew, who observed the _Mosaic\nLaw_; this generous reasoning gave offence, and he was presently asked,\nWHAT ADVANTAGE THEN HATH THE JEW[22]?\n\nIn like manner, when the same Apostle had been contending, in his\nEpistle to the Galatians, that _the inheritance was not of the Law,\nbut of Promise_[23]; that is, that all men, the Gentiles as well as\nthe Jews, were entitled to the blessings of the Christian covenant, in\nvirtue of God\u2019s _promise_ to Abraham\u2014_that in his seed all the nations\nof the earth shall be blessed_\u2014and not the Jews exclusively, in virtue\nof the _Mosaic Law_, given to them only; the same spirit discovers\nitself, as before, and he is again interrogated by his captious\ndisciples, WHEREFORE THEN SERVETH THE LAW? if the Gentiles may be\njustified _through faith in Christ_, and so inherit the promise made to\nAbraham, as well as the Jews, to what purpose was the Jewish Law then\ngiven?\n\nAnd to these questions, how unreasonable soever, the learned Apostle\nhas himself condescended to give an answer.\n\nNow, the same perverseness, which gave birth to these Jewish\nprejudices, seems to have operated in some Christians; who, on being\ntold, and even by St. Paul himself, of _a Law of Nature_, by which the\nHeathen were required to govern their lives, and by the observance of\nwhich, without their knowledge of any revealed Law, they would be\nfinally accepted, have been forward in their turn, to ask, WHEREFORE\nTHEN SERVETH THE LAW? Or, if there be a _natural Law_, according to\nwhich the very Heathen will be judged, and may be rewarded, what are\nthe boasted privileges of _Revealed Law_, and, in particular, the\nrevealed Law _of the Gospel_?\n\nNow to this question (having, in my last discourse, asserted the\nproposition, which gives occasion to it) I shall reply, in the best\nmanner I can, by shewing,\n\nI. That the supposition of a _natural moral Law_ is even necessary to\nthe support of REVELATION: And\n\nII. That this supposition no way derogates from the honour of the\nGOSPEL.\n\nI. _That a natural moral Law is required to support the authority of\nRevelation_, I conclude, not merely, _because_ this supposition is\nactually made in sacred Scripture, _because_ the sacred writers argue\nexpressly from it, and every-where refer to it, but principally and\nchiefly, _because_, without admitting this prior Law of nature, we\ncannot judge of any pretended Revelation, whether it be divine or no.\nFor, if there be no such moral Law, previously given, which our hearts\nand consciences approve, and to which our common nature assents, we\ncan never see the fitness of any means, as conducive to _a moral end_;\nwe can entertain no just and clear notions of _moral action_, properly\nso called; and consequently, we can have no ideas of what are called\n_the moral attributes_ of God. Now, in this state of ignorance and\nuncertainty, how shall any man go about to prove to us the divinity of\nany Revelation, or through what medium can its truth or authenticity\nbe established? We have no Rule, no principles, by which to judge of\nthe Law, pretending to come from God: we cannot tell, whether it be\nworthy of him, or not: we do not so much as know, what _worth_ or\n_goodness_ is, either in ourselves, or in the Deity. Thus all _internal\narguments_ for the excellence of any Religion are at once cut off:\nand yet till, from such considerations, we find that a Religion _may_\ncome from God, we cannot reasonably conclude, on any evidence, that it\n_does_ come from him. The Religion of Mahomet may, for any thing we can\ntell, if there be no moral Law for us to judge by, be as worthy of God,\nas that of Jesus. Nor will any _external arguments_, even the most\nunquestioned miracles, of themselves, be sufficient to confirm its\npretensions. For how shall we know, that these miracles are from God,\nunless we understand what his attributes are, and whether the occasion,\nfor which they are wrought, be such as is consistent with them?\n\nSo that those zealous persons, who think they do honour to the revealed\nwill of God, by denying him to have given prior natural Law, do,\nindeed, defeat their own purpose, and put it out of their power to\njudge of any Revelation whatsoever. There is, then, a Law of Reason,\n_written in the heart_, by which _every_ Religion, claiming to be\ndivine, must be tried; or we have no ground to stand upon in our\nendeavours to support the credit and divinity of _any_ Religion.\n\nWhat is, then, so necessary to the support of _Revelation_, in general,\ncannot, we may be sure,\n\nII. _Any way derogate from the honour of the Christian Revelation_, in\nparticular.\n\nBut, to put this matter out of all doubt, I shall distinctly shew, that\nthe supposition of a _natural moral Law_ neither discredits the USE;\nnor tends, in the least, to supersede the NECESSITY, of the Gospel.\n\nAnd, 1. IT DOES NOT DISCREDIT ITS USE.\n\nFor, what, if all men be endowed with those faculties, which, if\nproperly employed, may instruct us in the knowledge of God and\nourselves, and of the duties we, respectively, owe to him and to each\nother? Is it nothing that this knowledge is rendered more easy and\nfamiliar to us by the lights of the Gospel? Is it nothing, that those\nlaws, which men of thought and reflexion may deduce for themselves from\nprinciples of natural reason, are openly declared to all: that they are\nconfirmed, illustrated, and enforced by express revelation? Is it of no\nmoment, that the plainest and busiest men are as fully instructed in\ntheir duty, as men of science and leisure, the simplest as well as the\nwisest, the mechanic and the sage, the rustic and philosopher? Is it\nof no use, that men are kept steady in their knowledge and observance\nof the law of nature, by this pole-star of revelation? that they are\nsecured from error and mistake, from the effects of their own haste, or\nnegligence, or infirmity, from the illusions of custom or ill example,\nfrom the false lights of fanaticism or superstition, and from the\nperverseness of their own reasonings? Look into the history of mankind,\nand see what horrid idolatries have overspread the world, in spite of\nwhat _Nature_ teaches concerning God; and what portentous immoralities\nhave prevailed in the wisest nations, in defiance, nay, _what is\nworse_, under the countenance and sanction, of what was deemed _natural\nReason_.\n\nAdd to all this, that the moral duties, we thus easily and certainly\nknow, and without any danger of mistake or corruption, by means of\nthe evangelical Law, are enjoined by the highest authority; are set\noff by the brightest examples; are recommended to us by new arguments\nand considerations; are pressed upon us by the most engaging motives,\nhigher and more important than nature could suggest to us; and, lastly,\nare sublimed and perfected by the most consummate reason.\n\nStill we are not got to the end of our account. Consider, further,\nour natural weakness, strengthened and assisted by the influences of\ndivine Grace; the doubts and misgivings of Nature, in the momentous\npoints of repentance and forgiveness of sin, cleared; the true end\nand destination of moral agents, discovered; a future judgement,\nascertained; and the hopes of endless unspeakable glory, which nature\ncould at most but desire, and had no reason (unless that desire be,\nitself, a reason) to expect, unveiled and fully confirmed to us.\n\nThis, and still more, is but a faint sketch of the advantages, which,\neven in point of morals, we derive from revealed Law. Go now, then, and\nsay, that the light of nature, set up in your own hearts, obscures the\nglory, or _discredits the use_, of the everlasting Gospel!\n\n2. But it is a low, degrading, and unjust idea of the _Gospel_, to\nregard it only, as a new code of morals, though more complete in\nitself, more solemnly enacted, and more efficaciously enforced, than\nthe prior one of _nature_. Were the _use_ of each the same, the\nhonour of the Christian revelation would not be impaired, because its\nNECESSITY IS NOT SUPERSEDED.\n\nFor Christianity, rightly understood, is something, vastly above what\nReason could discover or procure for us. It confirms, incidentally,\nthe law of nature, and appeals to it; it harmonizes, throughout, with\nthat and every other prior revelation of God\u2019s will as it could not\nbut do, if it were indeed derived from the same eternal source of light\nand truth. But, for all that, it is no more a simple _re-publication_\nof the natural, than of any other divine Law. It is a new and distinct\nrevelation, that perfects and completes all the rest. It is the\nconsummation of one great providential scheme, planned before the ages,\nand fully executed in due time, for the redemption of mankind from sin\nand death, through the mercies of God in Christ Jesus.\n\nNow, in this view, which is that which Christianity exhibits of its own\npurpose, the scheme of the Gospel is not only of the most transcendant\n_use_, as it confirms, elucidates, and enforces the moral Law, but of\nthe most ABSOLUTE NECESSITY: I say, _of the most absolute necessity_;\nin reference to the divine wisdom, and to the condition of mankind,\nboth which, without doubt, if we could penetrate so far, required\nthis peculiar interposition of Heaven, on principles of the highest\nreason, as well as goodness. But the _necessity_ is apparent even to\nus, on the grounds of this very Revelation. For its declared purpose\nwas to rescue all men from the power of _Death_, and to bestow upon\nthem immortal _life_ in happiness. But, now, the same Gospel, that\ntells us this, tells us, withal, that, _as in Adam all men died, so\nin_ CHRIST, only, _shall all men be made alive_; and that, _without\nthe blood_ of CHRIST, _there could be no remission_ of the forfeiture\nincurred by the transgression of Adam. You see, then, that, to argue\nupon Gospel-principles (and the fair inquirer can argue upon no other)\nthe Christian dispensation was _necessary_ to fulfill the purposes of\nGod to man, and to effect that which the divine councils had decreed in\nrelation to him.\n\nThe consequence is, that though we admit a Law of nature, and even\nsuppose that Law to have been a sufficient guide in _morals_, yet the\nhonour of Christianity is fully secured, as it\u2019s _necessity is not\nsuperseded_ by the law of nature, which had not _the promise of eternal\nlife_, and could not have it; such promise being reserved to manifest\nand illustrate the grace of God, through the Gospel.\n\nReason may be astonished at this representation of things, but finds\nnothing to oppose to it. It looks up, in silent adoration, to that\nsupreme incomprehensible Power, which wills that which is best, and\norders all things with the most perfect reason.\n\nNor let it be any objection, that the Law of Nature points to some\njust recompence of moral agents, independently of the Christian Law.\nWithout doubt, it does; and, if the Gospel had never been vouchsafed to\nman, the judge of all the world would have done that which was fit and\nright. But can reason, can our own hearts, assure us, that the best of\nus could stand the scrutiny of strict justice, or be entitled to any\nrecompense of _reward_? Or, if our presumption answer this question\nin our favour, have we the least pretence to that unspeakable reward,\nsolely made known and promised in the Gospel, _of everlasting life_?\nOr, if mere Heathens, who are to be judged by their own Law, may be\nadmitted to an eternal inheritance of life and glory, are we sure that\nthis mercy (for mercy it is, and cannot be of right) is not vouchsafed\nto them, through Christ, though they may have been ignorant of Him? or\nrather, are we not certain that it must be so, since _eternal life_, on\nwhomsoever bestowed, _is the gift of God through Christ_[24]?\n\nWhat effect the Gospel-scheme of Redemption through Christ may have\non those who lived of old under the Law of nature or any other\nLaw, or who since the coming of Christ have continued in the same\ncircumstances; it becomes us with great caution to enquire, because the\nScriptures have not explicitly and fully instructed us in that matter.\nBut, from certain expressions, occasionally dropped by the sacred\nwriters, such as\u2014_that Christ died for all[25]; that God was in Christ\nreconciling the world to himself[26]\u2014that Christ is the propitiation\nfor our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole\nworld_[27]; from these, and other passages of the like nature, we are\nauthorised to conclude, that the benefits of Christ\u2019s death do extend,\nin _some sense_, to all men: that, though each will be judged by the\nLaw he lived under, the issue of that judgement will respect the death\nof Christ: that their living again to receive the recompence of the\ndeeds done in the body, however Nature might suggest this event, is, in\nfact, brought about through _the redemption that is in Christ_[28]: and\nthat whatever recompence they receive beyond what in strict justice is\ndue unto them, is to be placed entirely and singly to his account. Such\ninferences, as these, are apparently reasonable, and just: nor do they\nprejudice, in any degree, the hope and faith of a Christian: others may\nhave an interest in the blood of the cross; but our privilege is to\n_know_ that we have it. The advantages flowing from this knowledge, are\ninfinite. And therefore good reason there is to hold, with the Apostle,\nthat, although _the living God be the Saviour of all men_, yet is he\n_specially so of those that believe_[29].\n\nOn the whole, then, if men will be putting such a question to us, as\nthat of the text, _Wherefore then serveth the Law?_ to what end was the\n_Christian Law_ given, if there be a prior Law of Nature, to which men\nare responsible, and by which they will be judged? We are now prepared\nto give them a satisfactory answer.\n\nWe say then, _first_, that the _Christian Law_, to whatever ends _it\nserveth_, presupposes the existence of a _prior natural Law_, by which\nits pretensions must be tried, and, of course, therefore, its honour is\nsupported.\n\nBut, _secondly_, and more directly, we answer, that the supposition\nof such natural Law no way diminishes _the honour of the Christian\nLaw_; for that it serves to many the most important MORAL USES, over\nand above those to which the Law of nature serves; and that, further,\nit is of the most absolute NECESSITY to the accomplishment of its own\ngreat purpose, _the redemption of the world_, which the Law of nature\ncould not effect, and which the divine wisdom ordained should only be\neffected through Christ Jesus. _Lastly_, we reply, that the benefits of\nthe Gospel institution may, must, in some measure, extend to all the\nsons of Adam, as well as to those who are more especially enlightened\nby the Christian faith: that all mankind have an interest in the\nGospel, though we Christians are first and principally indebted to it.\n\nTo conclude, whatever Law, whether we term it of _nature_, or\n_revelation_, has been given to us, we should receive with all\nthankfulness and reverence. But, more especially, should we adore the\nriches of God\u2019s grace in the revealed Law of the Gospel, and in the\nsingular unspeakable mercies conveyed by it. Far from envying the\nHeathen world the advantages they receive from the Law of Reason,\nunder which they live; let us bless God for his impartial over-flowing\ngoodness to all men; let us even rejoice for the benefits treasured\nup for them in a merciful dispensation of which, at present, they\nunhappily know nothing; and let us only acknowledge, with especial\ngratitude, the higher blessings vouchsafed to us, who are called to\n_serve God in the Gospel of his Son_[30].\n\n\n\n\nSERMON V.\n\nPREACHED MAY 1, 1768.\n\nHEB. ii. 3.\n\n_How shall we escape, if we neglect so great Salvation?_\n\n\nThe Religion of Nature, is the Law of God, speaking by the voice of\nReason: the Religion of the Gospel, is the Law of God, speaking by\nthe Revelation of Jesus. Each of these Laws is deservedly called, _a\ngreat Salvation_: the _former_, as the basis of all true Religion; the\n_latter_, as the consummation of all God\u2019s religious dispensations to\nmankind.\n\nConcerning the different purpose and genius of these Laws, I shall not\nnow speak; at least, no farther, than is necessary to enforce the\nApostle\u2019s pathetic question, _How shall we escape, if we neglect so\ngreat Salvation_; if we neglect to observe these Laws, respectively\ngiven to promote man\u2019s truest happiness?\n\nThe world abounds in commentaries on the Law of Nature, and on the\nLaw of Christianity. But the misfortune is, that most men regard the\nstudy of these Laws, rather as an exercise of the mind, in the way of\ncurious speculation, than as an interesting pursuit, which concerns\ntheir moral and religious practice. Which is just the same folly as\nwould be charged on those, who should spend their lives in studying\nthe municipal Laws of their country, with a total unconcern about the\nobservance of them in their own persons.\n\nIndeed the penal sanctions, which attend the violation of those Laws,\nwould presently reclaim the student from this folly, and remind him\nof the _end_, to which his skill and knowledge in them should be\nprincipally directed. And if, in the study of general morals, or of\nrevealed religion, he neglect to refer his speculation to practice, it\nis only because their penalties are less instant, or less constraining;\nand not that either the Law of Nature, or the Law of the Gospel, is\nwithout its proper and suitable sanctions.\n\nI. These sanctions, as to the _Law of Nature_, as little as they are\nsometimes considered, are easily pointed out. For who, that grossly\noffends against that Law, but is punished with self-contempt; with an\nanxious dread of that power, which inscribed the law on his heart,\nand will, some way or other, secure the honour of it; with a sensible\ndiminution of his health, or fortune, or reputation; sometimes,\nwith the decline of his parts and faculties; with many uneasy and\nembarrassing, however unforeseen, situations, into which his vices lead\nhim; with inevitable distresses, experienced in his own person, perhaps\nentailed on his posterity; in a word, sooner or later, with a disgust\nof _this_ life, and a trembling apprehension of what may befall him in\na _future_?\n\nBy these penalties, is the LAW OF NATURE enforced: and they are such,\nas must soon convince a thinking man, indeed every man, that his true\ninterest lies in the observance of that Law. At the same time, it must\nbe owned, that this Law is strict and severe: It punishes with rigour,\nand rewards sparingly. Disobedience is certain, often intense, misery;\nwhile the most punctual compliance with it secures but a moderate\nenjoyment of this life, and so much happiness in another (if indeed\n_any_ happiness can be hoped for) as in strict justice may be required.\n\nYet _this_ is the Law, which many, it seems, had rather live and dye\nunder, than accept the benefit of a far BETTER. For,\n\nII. It pleased God, in compassion to his creature, man, not to leave\nhim under this Law; but, by _a special Revelation_ of his will, to\nconfer those blessings upon him, which he had no ground in reason to\nexpect, and no means in nature to obtain. Hence, _the free gift of\nimmortality_, on the condition of obeying a certain precept, given\nto Adam. The _gift_ was immense, and the _condition_ easy: but, the\n_latter_ not being observed, the _former_ was as justly forfeited, as\nit had been graciously bestowed.\n\nStill, through the exhaustless mercy of the supreme moral Governour,\na way was found out, by which unhappy man might be restored to his\nlost inheritance. He returned again, for the present, under the\nformer yoke of Nature, or, at best, was committed to the tuition of\na rigid _School-master_ (for such St. Paul styles the ritual Law of\nMoses); with some _hopes_, indeed, of a better state, to which he was\none day to be advanced; but those, darkly intimated, and imperfectly\nconceived. The divine purpose, however, was to lead him, by this\nwholesome discipline, to Christ, to the religion of his Son; who, in\ndue time, vindicated the honour of God\u2019s government, by _fulfilling all\nrighteousness_; expiated the foul offence of man\u2019s disobedience by his\ndeath upon the cross; and reconveyed the inestimable gift of immortal\nlife in happiness, on the new terms of FAITH IN THE DIVINE SAVIOUR,\nby whose ministry this great work was atchieved. Thus, Jesus became\na ransom for the sins of mankind; appearing indeed in our nature at\nthat season which was pre-ordained, but _being slain_ (in the divine\ncouncils, and therefore the benefit of his death operating) _from the\nfoundations of the world_.\n\nThis is a brief account of that great redemption in Christ Jesus, by\nwhich we are again restored to those hopes, which had been forfeited by\nAdam\u2019s transgression. In consequence of this dispensation, the reward\nof obedience is _eternal Life_: not of debt, but of grace, through\nfaith in the Redeemer. But this is not all. To facilitate and secure\nthat _obedience_ (to which so immense a benefit is now annexed) a\nperfect example of it is set before us in the person of Christ himself;\nand the holy Spirit is given to the faithful, to purify their hearts\nand lives, _and to fill them with all joy and peace in believing_[31].\nOn the other hand, the penalty of _disobedience_ (what could it be\nless?) is a perpetual exclusion from bliss and glory, with such a\ndegree of positive suffering, annexed, as the respective demerits\nof incorrigible sinners, or the sanctity and wisdom of the divine\ngovernment, may demand.\n\nAdd to all this, that the same scriptures, which open to us the terms\nof this dispensation, declare, likewise, that no other terms will ever\nbe offered; that we are _complete in Christ_[32]; that all the divine\ncouncils, in regard to man, are closed and shut up in _him_; and that\nno further sacrifice remains for sin, but that every man, henceforth,\nmust stand or fall by the terms of the everlasting Gospel.\u2014_How then\nshall we escape, if we neglect so great Salvation?_\n\nIII. Still, as I said, there are those, who had rather trust to the Law\nof Nature, than the Law of Grace; who had rather take their chance of\nbeing saved by the rule of their own Reason, than owe their Salvation\nto the methods prescribed to them by the rule of the Gospel.\n\nTheir pretences for this perverse choice, are various: but the true\nreason, I suppose, is, that the dispensation of the Gospel, though it\nbe unspeakably more benign, more gracious, more encouraging to the good\nand virtuous, is, at the same time, more awful, more terrifying, to\nresolved impenitent sinners, than the dispensation of Nature: and they\nare content to give up their hopes of that immortal prize, which the\nrevelation of Jesus holds out to them, rather than encounter the hazard\nof that severe sentence, which attends the forfeiture of it.\n\nBe it so then: ye had rather forego the hopes of heaven, than have your\nminds disquieted with the fear of hell.\n\nBut, _first_, do ye not see, that there is something base and abject in\nthis disposition? For what generous man will not aspire to an immense\nreward, which Heaven, in extreme kindness, may be almost said to force\nupon him, because there may be danger in coming short of it? \u201cYes,\nbut the danger is immense, too.\u201d Rather say, the loss is immense: the\ndanger of incurring this loss, is not so. For what, indeed, is the\ndanger, when Heaven is your guide, and a crown of glory your hope;\nwhen ye have God\u2019s word to assure you of the prize, ye contend for;\nwhen ye have the holy Spirit of God to assist you in the pursuit;\nwhen ye have the Son of God, your all-merciful Saviour himself, to be\nyour Judge, and the dispenser of that prize to you; when, with all\nthese encouragements on the one hand, ye are, besides, quickened by a\nsalutary fear of justice, on the other; and when all that is required\nof yourselves is, a reasonable faith, a willing mind, and a sincere,\nthough, in many respects, imperfect obedience? Is the danger to be much\nesteemed, when the helps are so great, when the labour is so small, and\nthe success almost certain? But,\n\n_Secondly_, Consider, also, whether ye do not even prevaricate with\nyourselves, when ye say, ye had rather take up with a less reward,\nthan run the hazard of so great a punishment. Ye certainly resolve not\nto contend for any reward at all, not even for the reward of Nature.\nIf ye did, ye might with more ease, as well as certainty, obtain that\nof the Gospel. For whether is easier, think ye, to obtain a gift from\ninfinite mercy, or to extort a debt from infinite justice?\n\nBut, _Lastly_, the matter is not left to your choice. When God, in his\nwisdom, had projected a scheme for the salvation of mankind before the\nages; when he had prosecuted that scheme by many successive revelations\nof himself, by many notices and preparatory indications of his good\npleasure; when he had separated a chosen family from the rest of the\nworld, to serve as a repository of his councils, and to minister to\nhimself in the execution of them; when he had sent forth his angels to\nassist in this great work, and had inspired many prophets and holy men\nto signify, beforehand, the glories of a new kingdom which he meant\nto establish on earth, and to prepare men for the reception of it;\nwhen, after all these preludes of his wisdom and goodness, he came, in\ndue time, to astonish the world with the completion of this adorable\nscheme, by sending forth his only begotten Son, the express image of\nhis person, to take upon him our nature, to suffer and to die for us;\nand, by raising up Apostles and Evangelists, under the guidance of\nhis holy Spirit, to record these amazing transactions; and, by the\nattestation of stupendous miracles, to spread the knowledge of them\nover the face of the earth: when this, I say, and more, had been done\nby the Almighty to usher in his last best dispensation into the world,\nthink not, that all this mighty apparatus was to be thrown away on\nour caprice or obstinacy; and that, after all, we may be at liberty\nto reject his whole design, or take as much, or as little of it, as\nour wayward fancies shall suggest to us. No: assuredly the councils of\nHeaven will stand firm, whatever attempts we may make, in our wisdom,\nor weakness, to subvert them. As well may we think to overturn the\neverlasting mountains, or push the earth itself from its centre, as to\ndefeat or set aside one tittle of that _eternal purpose, which God hath\npurposed in Christ Jesus_[33]. To whomsoever the sound of the Gospel is\ncome, whether he will hear, or not hear, by that Gospel he must stand\nor fall: he is, thenceforth, _under the bond of the Covenant_: through\nfaith in Jesus, he inherits the _promises_; or, if he withhold his\nfaith, it is not at his option to have no concern in the _threats_ of\nthe Gospel.\n\nI know what is commonly said to representations of this sort\u2014\u201cThat\n_Faith_ depends not on the _will_, but on the _understanding_: that,\nwhen the evidence for the truth of any proposition is full and\nclear, it constrains my assent; when it is otherwise, I reject the\nproposition, as false, or, at best, suspend my belief of it; and,\nin either case, as without merit, so without blame: that no Law is\nobligatory to me, any farther than I see cause to admit the authority\nof it; and that no pretence of its divine original can subject me to\nthe sanctions of it, unless, on my best inquiry, I allow that claim to\nbe well founded: that, consequently, the Law of Christianity cannot\nconcern him, who is not convinced of its truth; that, where this\nconviction is not, disbelief must be a matter purely indifferent: and\nthat _He_ only is responsible to that Law, who understands it to be his\nduty to be controuled and governed by it.\u201d\n\nThis reasoning is plausible; and has many advocates, because it\nflatters the pride and independency of the human mind.\u2014But, when a Law\nis promulged with that evidence, which the _divine Legislator_ (for\nof _such_ I am now speaking) sees to be sufficient for the conviction\nof a reasonable man, it is concluding too fast, to suppose, that I\nam innocent in rejecting it; or that I am not bound by it, though I\ndo reject it. Error, or unbelief, is only indifferent, when it is\nperfectly involuntary or invincible; but there is clearly no room for\nthis plea in the present case, when, by the supposition, there is no\nwant of fit evidence.\n\nEven in the case of _human_ Laws, my rejection of them may be\nblameable, though I neither admit the _authority_ nor the _equity_ of\nthe laws themselves. For there _may_ be evidence enough of _both_, if\nI will but attend to it. Now put the case of a _divine_ Legislator;\nand what was _supposeable_, becomes _certain_. For the attributes of\nthe Deity will permit no doubt, but that, when he gives a Law to man,\nhe will afford such proofs of it, as may, in reason, satisfy those, to\nwhom it is addressed. So that their rejection of it can only proceed\nfrom some neglect or wilfulness, on their own part, and not from the\nwant of a sufficient attestation, on the part of the Legislator.\n\nYe see then, there is no absurdity in supposing the Law of Christianity\nto oblige those, who do not receive it: for if that Law be of God (and\nwe argue now upon that hypothesis) the evidence for it must be such\nas is suited to our faculties; and being addressed, as the tenor of\nit shews, to all mankind, it binds of course all those to whom that\nevidence has been submitted.\n\nAnd this indeed is the very language of that Law itself. For the Jews\ndisbelieved the Gospel, when it was preached to them by our blessed\nLord. But what says the Legislator to these unbelievers? Does he leave\nthem to the Law of Nature, whose authority they did not dispute, or\nto the Law of Moses, which God himself, they knew, had given them? No\nsuch thing: he tells them, that very Law, which they rejected, should\n_judge_ them. \u201cHe, that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath\none that judgeth him: the WORD, that I have spoken, the same shall\njudge him in the last day[34].\u201d And he assigns the reason of this\ndetermination\u2014\u201cFor I have not spoken of myself; but the Father, which\nsent me, he gave me a commandment, what I should say, and what I should\nspeak:\u201d that is, the Law, I give you, is of _divine authority_; and\ntherefore not to be rejected without blame on any pretence by you, to\nwhom the knowledge of it, and the proper evidence on which it rests,\nhas been committed.\n\nThese reflexions, I know, have small weight with those, who treat the\nevidences of the Gospel with that scorn, which is familiar to some\nmen. But such persons should, at least, see that their scorn be well\nfounded. If not\u2014but I will only say, they may subject themselves, for\naught they know, to the penalties of the Gospel; I mean, to the future\njudgement of _that man, whom_, in this life, _they would not have to\nreign over them_[35].\n\nBut this remonstrance is properly addressed to those _that are\nwithout_, to the contemners of the Christian Law. To YOU, who are\nwithin the pale of Christ\u2019s Church, and acknowledge his authority; who\nprofess yourselves to be his servants; who admit no other Law, but\nin subjection to his, and have no expectation of life and glory from\nany other; to YOU, I say, the question of the text is above measure\ninteresting, _How shall we escape, if we neglect so great Salvation?_\n\nCompassion, and prudence, and charity may restrain you from censuring\nwith severity the enemies of the faith; may dispose you to overlook, or\nto soften at least, the alarming denunciations of the Gospel, in which\nthey are concerned. But for YOURSELVES, who have given your names to\nChrist, and have hope in him only; who know the wonders of mercy that\nhave been wrought for you, and were finally completed on that cross,\nwhich is your trust and consolation, your pride and glory, it is almost\nneedless to say what _your_ interest, and what _your_ obligation is, to\nobserve, respect, and reverence the dispensation of the Gospel. _Ye_\nare self-condemned, if ye slight this Law: ye are ungrateful, up to all\nthe possibilities of guilt, if ye make light of it: ye are undone for\never, if _ye neglect so great Salvation_.\n\nWhat allowances it may please God to make for the prejudices, the\npassions, the slights, the blasphemies of unthinking and careless\nmen, who have never embraced the faith of Jesus, it may not, perhaps,\nconcern you to inquire. But ye know, that ye are responsible to that\nLaw, which ye profess, and to that master, whom ye serve; that to you,\nindifference is infidelity; and disobedience, treason; that wilful\nunrepented sin in a Christian is without hope, as without excuse, shuts\nhim out from all the rewards, and exposes him, even with his own full\nconsent to all the punishments of the Gospel.\n\nIn a word, as their _joy is great in believing_, who obey the Gospel\nof Christ; so the guilt and the terror is proportionably great, to\ndisobedient believers. For, dreadful as _unbelief_ may prove in the\nissue to such as, through their own fault, have not come to the\nknowledge of Christ, _Belief_, without obedience, is more dreadful\nstill. I have an apostle\u2019s warrant for this assertion. _For it had been\nbetter for us not to have known the way of righteousness, than, after\nwe have known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered unto\nus[36]._\n\n\n\n\nSERMON VI.\n\nPREACHED NOVEMBER 16, 1766.\n\nSt. JOHN, xiv. 8.\n\n_Philip saith to him, Lord, shew us the Father, and it sufficeth us._\n\n\nOur Lord, being now about _to depart out of the world_[37], prepares\nhis disciples for this unwelcome event by many consolations and\ninstructions. He acquaints them, more particularly than he had\nhitherto done, with his own _personal dignity_. He tells them, that,\n_as they believed in God, they were also to believe in him_[38]; and\nthat, although he should shortly leave them, it was only to remove\nfrom Earth to Heaven, to his _Father\u2019s house_, where he should more\nthan ever be mindful of their concerns, _and whither I go_, says\nhe, _to prepare a place for you_[39]. And, to impress this _belief_\n(so necessary for their future support under his _own_, and _their_\napproaching sufferings) the more strongly upon them, He declares, in\nthe most authoritative manner, _that he_, only, _was the Way, the\nTruth, and the Life; and that no man could come to the Father, but by\nhim_[40]. Nay, to shew them how great his interest was, and how close\nhis union, with the Father, he even adds, _If ye had known me, ye\nshould have known my Father also; and from henceforth_, continues he,\n_ye know him, and have seen him_[41].\n\nThis last declaration seemed so strange to his disciples, who had no\nnotion of _seeing the Father_ in our Lord\u2019s suffering state, or indeed\nthrough any other medium, than that of those triumphant honours, which\ntheir carnal expectations had destined to him, that one of them,\nthe Apostle _Philip, saith to him, Lord, shew us the Father, and\nit sufficeth us_. As if he had said, \u201cWe know thee be a person of\ngreat holiness, and have seen many wonderful things done by thee; so\nthat we cannot doubt but that thou art a prophet sent from God, for\nsome great end and purpose of his providence. But if thy pretensions\ngo so far as to require us _to believe in Thee, as in the Father_;\nif we are to conceive of Thee, as the only _Life_ of the world; of\nso great authority with God, as to procure _mansions_ in heaven for\nthy disciples; nay, of so great dignity in thine own person, as to\nchallenge the closest _union_ and communication with the eternal\nFather; if, indeed, we are to believe such great things of thee, it\nis but reasonable, as thou sayest; that, _in knowing and seeing thee,\nwe also know and see the Father_; that we have the clearest and most\nunquestioned proofs of thy divinity. _Shew us_, then, _the Father_;\nmake us see the glorious symbols of his presence; present us with\n_such_ irresistible demonstrations of his power and greatness, as were\nvouchsafed to our Fathers, at the giving of the Law; _such_, as strike\nconviction on the senses, and overrule all doubt and distrust in so\nhigh a matter; _shew us_, I say, _the Father_, in this sense, _and it\nsufficeth_ to our persuasion and firm belief in thee.\u201d\n\nWe see, in this conduct of the Apostle Philip, a natural picture of\nthose inquirers into the truth of our religion; who, because they\nhave not the highest possible evidence given them of it, (at least,\nnot that evidence, which they account the _highest_) are tempted, if\nnot absolutely to reject the faith, yet to entertain it with a great\nmixture of doubt and suspicion. \u201cIf Christianity, say they, were what\nit pretends to be, the arguments for it would be so decisive, that\nnothing could be opposed to them; if it were, indeed, of God, the\nproofs of its claim had been such and so many, that no scepticism could\nhave taken place, no infidelity, at least, could have kept its ground,\nagainst the force of them.\u201d\n\nWhen this wild fancy comes to take possession of men\u2019s minds, the whole\ntenour of God\u2019s dispensations is quarrelled with, and disputed: every\ncircumstance in our Lord\u2019s history looks suspicious: and every _fact_,\napplied to the confirmation of our holy faith, rises into a presumption\nagainst it.\n\n_The word of Prophecy_ has not been so clear and manifest, as it might\nhave been: _therefore_, the proofs taken from it are of no validity.\nThe miracles of Christ were not so public or so illustrious as might\nbe conceived: _therefore_, they are no evidence of his divine mission.\nThe scene of his birth and actions might have been more conspicuous:\n_therefore_, the light of the world could not proceed from that\nquarter. The Gospel itself was not delivered in that _manner_, nor by\nthose _instruments_, which they esteem most fit; its _success_ in the\nworld has not been so great, nor its _effects_ on the lives of men, so\nsalutary, as might have been expected: _therefore_, it could not be of\ndivine original.\n\nBut there is no end of enumerating the instances of this folly. Let\nme observe, in one word, that the greater part of the objections,\nwhich weak or libertine men have opposed to the authority of revealed\nReligion, are of the same sort with the demand in the text. The authors\nof them first _imagine_ to themselves, what evidence would be the most\nconvincing; and then refuse their _assent_ to any other. Their constant\nlanguage is that of the Apostle Philip\u2014_shew us the Father, and it\nsufficeth us_.\n\nNow, to see how little force there is in this sort of argumentation,\nlet it be considered, that such high demands of evidence for the\ntruth of the Christian revelation, are IMPERTINENT, at the best; that\nthey are, most _probably_, on the part of the revealer, IMPROPER to be\ncomplied with; that they _must_ be, on the part of man, PRESUMPTUOUS,\nand unwarrantable.\n\nI. All demands of this sort are clearly _impertinent_, and beside the\npurpose of a fair inquirer into the authority of a divine Religion.\nFor the question is, whether such religion be not accompanied with\nthat _evidence_, which is sufficient to determine the assent of a\nreasonable man; not, whether it be the highest in its kind, or in\nits _degree_, which might be imagined. There is an infinite variety,\nand, as we may say, gradation in the scale of moral evidence, from\nthe highest forms of _demonstration_ down to the lowest inducements\nof _probability_. The impatient mind of man, which loves to rest in\nassurance, may demand the former of these in every case: but the just\nand sober inquirer, whatever he may wish for, will submit to the\n_latter_. He takes the argument, as presented to him; he weighs the\nmoment of it; and if, on the whole, it preponderates, though but by\nsome scruples of probability, against the inductions on the other side,\nhe is determined by this evidence, with as good reason, though not with\nas much assurance, as by demonstration itself. His business, he knows,\nis to examine whether the conclusion be justly drawn, not whether it\nbe irresistibly forced upon him. It is enough, if the proof be such as\n_merits_ his assent, though it should not _compel_ it.\n\nApply, now, this universal rule of just reasoning to the case of\nthe _Gospel_. Consider it on the footing of that evidence, which\nit pretends to offer. If this evidence be weak and inconclusive in\nitself, let it be rejected. But, if it be sufficient to the purpose for\nwhich it is given, why look out for any _higher_? The pretensions of\nChristianity are, indeed, very great. It claims to be received by us,\nas the _work and word of God_. The proofs of its being such should,\nno doubt, be adapted to the nature of these pretensions. If, in fact,\nthey be so adapted, all further attestations of its truth, all stronger\ndemonstrations of its divinity (supposing there might be stronger) are,\nat least, _unnecessary_: our demands of them are without ground, and\nwithout reason: that is, they are clearly _not to the purpose_ of this\ninquiry. But\n\nII. The _impertinence_ of these demands, is not all. There is good\nreason to believe, that they are, in themselves, absolutely unfit and\nIMPROPER to be complied with.\n\nIn saying this, I do not only mean that the _evidence_, such men call\nfor, is so far mistaken as to be really of an inferior sort, and less\nconvincing to a well-informed mind, than that which they reject. This,\nno doubt, is very frequently the case. It has been shewn in many\ninstances, and even to the conviction of the objector himself, that\nsuch circumstances as have been thought most suspicious, such proofs as\nhave appeared the weakest, have upon inquiry turned out, of all others,\nthe strongest and most satisfactory. For example, they who object to\nthe _mean instruments_, by which the Christian Religion was propagated,\nare confuted by the Apostle Paul himself; who has shewn _that very\ncircumstance_ to be the clearest proof of its divinity; this method of\npublishing the Gospel having been purposely chosen, _that our faith\nshould not stand in the wisdom of men, but in the power of God_[42].\nAnd the same answer will equally serve to many other pretences of the\nlike nature.\n\nBut, as I said, my intention is not, at present, to expose the common\nmistake of preferring a _weaker_ evidence to a _stronger_. Let it be\nallowed, that the evidence required is, in fact, the _stronger_. Still\nthere is reason to think that _such_ evidence was not _proper_ to be\ngiven. And I argue, _from the nature of the thing_; and _from the\ngenius of the Gospel_.\n\n1. In _the nature of the thing_ it seems not reasonable that a divine\nrevelation should be obtruded upon men by the highest possible\nevidence. This would be to _constrain_ their assent, not to _obtain_\nit: and the very essence of religion consists in its being a _willing_,\nas well as _reasonable_ service.\n\nOr, take the matter thus. On supposition that it should please God to\naddress himself to man, it is to be presumed he would treat him _as_\nman; that is, in a way, which is suitable to _the whole of his nature_.\nBut _man_ is not only an _intelligent_ being, that is, capable of\ndiscerning the force of evidence, and of being determined by it: he\nis, also, a _moral_ being, that is, capable of making a right or wrong\nuse of his liberty. Now put the case of an overpowering, irresistible\nevidence, and his _understanding_ is convinced, indeed; but the _will_,\nthat other and better half of his composition, the spring of liberty\nand of virtue, this, with all the energies depending upon it, is\nuntouched, and has no share in the operation. On the other hand, let\nthe evidence submitted to him be such only as may satisfy his reason,\nif attentively, if modestly, if virtuously employed, and you see the\nwhole man in play: his _intellectual_ powers are considered, and his\n_moral_ faculties, the faculties of a _wise and understanding heart_,\napplied to and exerted.\n\nIt seems, then, that, if a Revelation were given to man, it would most\nprobably, and according to the best views we can form of the divine\nconduct, be given in this way; that is, in such a way, as should make\nit, at once, the proper object of his _faith_, and the test, I had\nalmost said the reward, of his _merit_.\n\nAnd such, we may observe, is the sense of mankind in other instances of\nGod\u2019s government. Who complains, that the ordinary blessings of Heaven,\nthe conveniences and accommodations of life, are not ready furnished\nand prepared to his hands? Who does not think it sufficient, to our\nuse and to God\u2019s glory, that we have the powers requisite to prepare\nthem? Why then expect this greatest of God\u2019s blessings, a _divine\nRevelation_, to be made cheap in being forced upon us, whether we will\nor no, by an _evidence_, which silences reason, rather than employs\nit; and precludes the exercise of the noblest faculties, with which our\nnature is invested?\n\n2. Thus, _the reason of the thing_ affords a presumption (I mean, if\nmen will reason at all on such matters), that these high demands in\nreligion are unfit to be complied with. But we shall argue more safely,\nin the next place, from _the_ GENIUS AND DECLARATIONS OF THE GOSPEL.\n\nFrom the tenour of the Gospel-revelation we learn, that, though a\n_reasonable evidence_ be afforded of its truth, yet the author and\npublishers of it were by no means solicitous to force it on the minds\nof men by an _unnecessary and irresistible evidence_.\n\nWe see this in the conduct of our Lord himself, who refused to gratify\nthe curiosity both of friends and foes by needless _explanations_[43],\nor supernumerary _miracles_[44]. We see it, further, in his general\nmethod of speaking by _Parables_[45]; which are so contrived as to\ninstruct the attentive and willing hearer, but not the prejudiced or\nindifferent. Nay, when some of his parables were so obscure as that\nthey might seem to require an explanation, he did not always vouchsafe\nto give it before the people, but reserved the exposition of them for\n_his disciples, in private_[46]. _To them_, only, _it was given to know\nthe mysteries of the kingdom of heaven_: others, were left to their own\ninterpretation of his _Parables_[47].\n\nThis proceeding of Christ plainly shews that he was not anxious to\n_instruct_ or _convince_ in that _way_, which might appear the most\n_direct_ and _cogent_. It seems, on the contrary, to have been his\nchoice to afford the strongest proofs of his mission and the clearest\nviews of his doctrine to _those_, not whose incredulity needed his\nassistance most, but _who_, by their good dispositions and moral\nqualities, deserved it[48]. He thought not fit _to cast pearls before\nswine_[49]; and, as contrary as it may be to our forward expectations,\nit was a rule with him, that _he that hath, to him it should be\ngiven_[50].\n\nThat this was the genius of the Gospel, we further learn from the\nstress, which is laid on _Faith_. It is everywhere demanded as a\nprevious qualification in the aspirants to this religion; it is\neverywhere spoken of as the highest moral virtue: a representation,\nstrange and impossible to be accounted for, if men were to be borne\ndown by the weight of _evidence_ only.\n\nBut, to put the matter out of all doubt, we have it declared to us in\nexpress words, that those converts are the most acceptable to Christ,\nwho receive his religion, on a reasonable, indeed, but inferiour\nevidence. When the Apostle Thomas expressed his belief, on the evidence\nof _sense, Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen me,\nthou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have\nbelieved_[51].\n\nNow, whatever occasion prophane men may take from this account of\nGospel-evidence to calumniate the divine Author of our Faith, as\nthough he relied more on the _credulity_, than the _conviction_ of his\nfollowers; whatever perverse use, I say, some men may be disposed to\nmake of this circumstance; one thing, I suppose, is clear, \u201cThat the\ngenius of the Gospel does, in fact, discountenance their _high demands_\nof evidence.\u201d So that, taking the Christian religion for _what it is_\n(and for _such_ only, the rules of good reasoning oblige us to take\nit) it is very certain that no man is authorized to expect other or\nstronger proofs of its divinity than have been given. On the contrary,\nsuch proofs, as men account stronger, could only serve to weaken its\nevidence, and overthrow its pretensions.\n\nIII. Lastly, Though no _distinct reason_ could have been opposed to\nthese high expectations in religion, yet common sense would have seen,\n\u201cThat they are, _in general_, PRESUMPTUOUS AND UNWARRANTABLE.\u201d\n\nFor what man, that thinks at all, but must acknowledge that sacred\ntruth, _that God\u2019s ways are not as our ways_[52]; and that it is the\nheight of mortal folly to prescribe to the Almighty? _What man is he\nthat can know the council of God? Or, who can think what the will of\nthe Lord is?\u2014Hardly do we guess aright at things that are upon the\nearth, and with labour do we find the things that are before us: but\nthe things that are in heaven who hath searched out[53]?_\n\nSuch passages as these have, I know, been sometimes brought to insult\nand disgrace REASON, when employed the most soberly, and in her proper\noffice. But I quote them for no such purpose. I mean not to infer from\nthese testimonies, that we are not competent judges of the evidence\nwhich is laid before us (for why, then, was it offered?); but, that\nreason cannot tell us, _what_ evidence it was fit for Heaven to give\nof its own councils and revelations. We may conjecture, _modestly_\nconjecture, without blame. Nay the wisest and best men, and even angels\nthemselves, have a reasonable _desire to look into_ these things: and\ntheir _speculations_, if duly governed, are, no doubt, commendable\nand useful. But we are not, upon this pretence, to dogmatize on such\nmatters. Much less, may we take upon us to reject a _well-attested_\nRevelation, a Revelation, that bears many characteristic marks, many\nillustrious signatures and impresses of divinity, because this or that\ncircumstance, attending it, does not accord to our narrow views and\nshallow surmises. In short, men would do well to remember that it is\nno less a maxim of _reason_ than of Scripture, _that the things of God,\nknoweth no man but the Spirit of God_[54]: a _maxim_, we should never\nlose sight of, a moment, in our religious inquiries.\n\nBut this, though an _important_ consideration, is a common one, and\nI pursue it no farther. Let it suffice to have shewn, \u201cThat when, in\nmatters of religion, men indulge themselves in _fancying_ what evidence\nwould have been most convincing to them, and then erect such fancies\ninto _expectations_, they are, at best, employed very _idly_:\u201d\n\n\u201cThat the worthiest apprehensions, we can frame of the divine\nwisdom, and both the genius and letter of the Christian religion,\ndiscountenance these expectations, as _improper and unreasonable_ to be\ncomplied with:\u201d\n\nAnd, \u201cthat, from the slightest acquaintance with ourselves, we must\nneeds confess them to be _presumptuous_.\u201d\n\nThe USE to be made of the whole is, _that men think soberly, as they\nought to think_[55]; and that, if ever their restless curiosity, or\nsome worse principle, impells them to make the demand in the text,\n_shew us the Father_, they repress the rising folly by this just\nreflexion, that they have no right, in their sense of the word, _to see\nthe Father_.\n\nNot but his infinite goodness hath vouchsafed to unveil himself so\nfar, as is abundantly sufficient to our conviction. But then we must\nbe content to _see him_ in that light, in which he has been graciously\npleased to _shew_ himself, not in that _unapproachable light_[56] in\nwhich our madness requires to have him _shewn_ to us.\n\nThe evidences of Christianity are not dispensed with a penurious hand:\nbut they lie dispersed in a very wide compass. They result from an\ninfinite number of considerations, each of which has its weight, and\nall together _such_ moment, as _may be_, but is not easily resisted.\nTo collect and estimate these, much labour and patience is to be\nendured; great parts of learning and genius are required; above all, an\nupright and pure mind is demanded. If, conscious of our little worth\nor ability, we find ourselves not equal to this task, let us adore\nin silence, and with that humility which becomes us. To call out for\nlight, when we have enough to serve our purpose, is indeed _foolish_:\nbut to make this noisy demand, when we have previously blinded our\neyes, or have resolved to keep them shut, is something _more_ than\nfolly.\n\nAfter all, there is one way, in which the meanest of us may be indulged\nin the high privilege of SEEING _the Father_, at least, in the _express\nimage_ of his Son. It is, by keeping the commandments. _He that hath my\ncommandments, and keepeth them_, says our Lord himself, _I will love\nhim, and will_ MANIFEST _myself to him_[57]. In other words, he will\nsee and acknowledge the _truth_ of our divine religion.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON VII.\n\nPREACHED IN THE YEAR 1771.\n\nST. JAMES, iv. 1.\n\n _From whence come wars and fightings among you? Come they not\n hence, even of your lusts that war in your members?_\n\n\nInterpreters have observed, that these questions refer to the state of\nthings, which then took place among the Jews, when this epistle was\naddressed to them. For, about that time, they had grievous _wars and\nfightings_ among themselves; every city, and every family, almost, of\nthis devoted people, not only in Judea, but in many other countries,\nthrough which they were _scattered abroad_, being miserably distracted\nand torn asunder by civil and domestic factions.\n\nThis application, then, of the Apostle\u2019s words to the Jews of his own\ntime, seems a just one. But we need look no further for a comment upon\nthem, than to that _hostile_ spirit, which too much prevails, at all\ntimes, and under all circumstances, even among Christians themselves.\n\nThe root of this bitterness, we are told, is in _the lusts, that war\nin our members_: that is, there is, first, an insurrection of our\ncarnal appetites against the law of our minds; and, then, the contagion\nspreads over families, neighbourhoods, and societies; over all those,\nin short, with whom we have any concern, till the whole world,\nsometimes, becomes a general scene of contention and disorder.\n\nFor, ask the princes of this world, what prompts them to disturb\nthe peace of other states, and to involve their subjects in all the\nhorrors of war; and their answer, if they deign to give one, and if\nit be ingenuous, must, commonly, be, _their lust of conquest and\ndominion_. Ask the servants of those princes, what splits them into\nparties and factions; and they can hardly avoid answering, or we can\nanswer for them, _their lust of wealth and power_. Ask the people, at\nlarge, and under whatever denomination, what occasions their contempt\nof authority, their disobedience to magistrates, their transgressions\nof law, their cabals and tumults, their hatred, defamation, and\npersecution of each other; and charity herself, for the most part, can\ndictate no other reply for them to this question, than that they are\nexcited to all these excesses by _the lust of riot_ and misrule, or,\nof, what they call, LIBERTY.\n\nBut there is no end of pursuing this subject in all its applications\nto particular instances. What we have most reason to lament, is,\nthat Christians not only _fight_ with each other, at the instigation\nof their _lusts_, for their own carnal and corrupt ends; but that\nthey make the very _means_, which God has appointed to compose these\ndifferences, the instruments of their animosity, and become outrageous\nin their hostile treatment of each other, by the perversion of those\n_principles_, which were intended to be its restraint. For if any thing\ncould appease this tumult among men, what more likely to do it, than\nthe _administration of civil justice_, and the _sacred institutions of\nreligion_? Yet, are even these provisions of divine and human wisdom,\nfor the support of peace and good order, defeated by our restless\nand ingenious passions; and we contrive, to make RELIGION and LAW\nthemselves, subservient to the increase of that contention, which they\ntend so naturally to keep out of the world.\n\nAs this abuse, which inverts the order of things, and turns the\nmedicine of life into a deadly poison\u2014as this abuse, I say, can never\nbe enough exposed; let me represent to you some part of the evils,\nwhich this monstrous misuse of RELIGION and CIVIL JUSTICE has brought\nupon mankind; as the last, and most striking effort of these malignant\n_lusts_, from which, according to the holy Apostle, all our violations\nof peace and charity are derived.\n\nAnd, FIRST, of the mischiefs, arising, from MISAPPLIED RELIGION.\n\nIt were an ample field, this, should I undertake to follow the\necclesiastical historian in all the abuses, which he so largely\ndisplays. But my design is to _open the fountains_; to point, only,\nto the _general causes_, from which those abuses have flowed. And the\nchief of these _causes_ will not be overlooked, if we consider that\nChristianity has been corrupted by _superstition_, by _policy_, and by\n_sophistry_: for, in each of these ways, the _lusts_. of men have found\nfree scope for their activity; and have produced all those endless\ndiscords and animosities, which have dishonoured the Christian world.\n\n1. SUPERSTITION began very early to make cruel inroads into the\nreligion of Jesus: _first_, by debasing its free spirit with the\nservility of Jewish observances; next, in adulterating its simple\ngenius by the pomp of pagan ceremonies; and, afterwards, through a\nlong course of dark and barbarous ages, in disfiguring its _reasonable\nservice_[58] by every whimsy, which a gloomy or disturbed imagination\ncould suggest.\n\nThe _lusts_ of men gave birth to these several perversions. The\nobstinate _pride_ of the Jewish Christian was flattered in retaining\nthe abrogated ritual of the Law: the pagan proselyte gratified his\n_vanity_, and love of splendor in religious ministrations, by dressing\nout Christianity in all the paint and pageantry of his ancient worship:\nand the miserable monk soothed his _fears_, or indulged his _spite_,\nin busying himself with I know not what uncommanded and frivolous\nexpiations, or in torturing others with the rigours of a fruitless\npenance.\n\nFrom these rank passions, sprung up _wars_ in abundance among\nChristians. The Apostles themselves could not prevent their followers\nfrom _fighting_ with each other, in the cause of _circumcision_. The\nsuperstition of _days_[59], and of _images_[60], grew so fierce,\nthat the whole Christian world was, at different times, thrown into\nconvulsions by it. And the dreams of monkery excited every where the\nmost implacable feuds; which had, commonly, no higher object, than the\ncredit of their several _Rules_, or the honour of their _Patron-saints_.\n\n2. When superstition had thus set the world on fire, a godless POLICY\nstruck in, to encrease the combustion.\n\nThe Christian religion, which had TRUTH for its object, could not but\nrequire an assent from its professors to the doctrines, it revealed;\nand, having GOD for its author, it, of course, exacted a compliance\nwith the few ritual observances, which he saw fit to ordain. But the\nwantonness, or weakness, of the human mind, introducing a different\ninterpretation of those _doctrines_, and a different ministration of\nthose _rites_, the policy of princes would not condescend to tolerate\nsuch unavoidable differences, but would inforce a rigid uniformity both\nof sentiment and ceremony, as most conducive, in their ideas, to the\nquiet and stability of their government.\n\nAgain: the honour of prelates and churches seemed to be concerned\nin all questions concerning place and jurisdiction; and, when these\nquestions arose, was to be maintained by every artifice, which an\ninterested and secular wisdom could contrive.\n\nThe _lust_ of dominion, was plainly at the bottom of these infernal\nmachinations; and the fruit, it produced, was the most bloody and\nunrelenting wars, massacres, and persecutions; with which the annals of\nmankind are polluted and disgraced. But,\n\n3. To work up these two pests of humanity, _superstition_, and\n_intolerance_, to all the fury, of which they are capable, unblessed\nSCIENCE and perverted REASON lent their aid.\n\nFor, the pride of knowledge begot innumerable portentous heresies:\nwhich not only corrupted the divine religion of Jesus (obnoxious to\nsome taint from the impure touch of human reason, because _divine_),\nbut envenomed the hearts of its professors, against each other, by\ninfusing into them a bitter spirit of altercation and dispute.\n\nIn these several ways, then, and from these causes, has our holy\nreligion been abused. The _lusts_ of men have turned the Gospel of\npeace itself into an instrument of _war_: a misadventure, which could\nnot have taken place, had Christians but recollected and practised one\nsingle precept of their master\u2014_Learn of me; for I am meek and lowly\nin heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls_[61].\n\nBut the perversity of man could not be brought to learn this salutary\nlesson; and so has fulfilled that memorable saying of our Lord, who,\nforeseeing what abuses would hereafter be made of his charitable\nsystem, declared of himself\u2014_I came not to send peace, but a\nsword_[62]. This prediction, at least, the enemies of our faith are\nready enough to tell us, has been amply verified, in the event. It has\nbeen so: it was therefore inspired, because it was to be fulfilled.\nBut let them remember, withall, that not the genius of the Gospel, but\nman\u2019s incorrigible passions, acting in defiance of it, have given to\nthis prophecy its entire completion.\n\nI come now to represent to you,\n\nII. In the second place, how the _lusts_ of men have perverted CIVIL\nJUSTICE, as well as Religion, into an instrument of contention and hate.\n\nThe object of all civil, or municipal laws, is the conservation of\nprivate peace, in the equal protection they afford to the property\nand persons of men. Yet, how often have they been employed to other\npurposes, _by those, who administer the Laws_; and _by those, for whose\nsake they are administered_!\n\n1. In reading the history of mankind, one cannot but observe, with\nindignation, how frequently the magistrate himself has turned the Law,\nby which he governs, into an engine of oppression: sometimes, directing\nit against the liberties of the state; and sometimes, against the\nprivate rights of individuals. It were a small matter, perhaps, if he\nonly took advantage of a _severe_ law, or drew over an _ambiguous_ one,\nto countenance his iniquitous purposes. But how oft has he embittered\nthe mildest, or tortured the plainest laws, by malignant glosses and\nstrained interpretations! gratifying, in both ways, his revenge, his\navarice, or his ambition; yet still in the forms of Law, and under the\nmantle, as it were of public justice!\n\nSuch abuses there _have_ been in most states, and, it may be, in our\nown. God forbid, that, standing in this place, I should _accept the\npersons of men, or give flattering titles unto any_[63]. But truth\nobliges me to say, that there is, now, no colour for these complaints.\nThe administration of justice, on the part of the _Magistrate_, is so\npure, as to be the glory of the age, in which we live. The abuses all\narise from another quarter; and the contentious spirit is kept alive\nand propagated by the lusts of private men. And what renders their\niniquity without excuse, is, that the very equity of those forms, in\nwhich our laws are administered, is made the occasion of introducing\nall these corruptions.\n\n2. To come to a _detail_ on this subject, might be thought improper.\nLet me paint to you, then, in very _general_ terms, the disorders that\nspring from this perversion of Law; and, to do it with advantage, let\nme employ the expressive words of an ancient Pagan writer.\n\nThe Roman governors of provinces, it is well known, had their times\nfor the more solemn administration of civil justice. Suppose, then,\none of these governors to have fixed his residence in the capital of\nan Asiatic province, to have appointed a day for this solemnity, and,\nwith his Lictors, and other ensigns of authority about him, to be now\nseated in the forum, or public place of the city; and consider, if the\nfollowing representation of an indifferent by-stander be not natural\nand instructive.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d says the eloquent writer[64], whose words I only translate, \u201csee\nthat vast and mixt multitude assembled together before you. You ask,\nwhat has occasioned this mighty concourse of people. Are they met to\nsacrifice to their country Gods, and to communicate with each other\nin the sacred offices of their religion? Are they going to offer the\nLydian first-fruits to the Ascr\u00e6an Jupiter? or, are they assembled\nin such numbers to celebrate the rites of Bacchus, with the usual\nfestivity? Alas, no. Neither pious gratitude, nor festal joy, inspires\nthem. _One_ fierce unfriendly passion _only_ prevails; whose epidemic\nrage has stirred up all Asia, and, as returning with redoubled force on\nthis stated anniversary, has driven these frantic crowds to the forum;\nwhere they are going to engage in law-suits with each other, before the\nJudges. An infinite number of causes, like so many confluent streams,\nrush together, in one common tide, to the same tribunal. The passions\nof the contending parties are all on fire; and the end of this curious\nconflict is, the ruin of themselves and others. What fevers, what\ncalentures, what adust temperament of the body, or overflow of its\nvicious humours, is to be compared to this plague of the distempered\nmind? Were you to interrogate each cause (in the manner you examine a\nwitness) as it appears before this tribunal, and ask, WHENCE IT CAME?\nthe answer would be, an obstinate and self-willed spirit produced\n_this_; a bitter rage of contention, _that_; and a lust of revenge and\ninjustice, _another_.\u201d\n\nIt is not to be doubted, that this rage of the contending parties\nwas inflamed, in those times, by mercenary agents and venal orators;\nby men, who employed every fetch of cunning, and every artifice of\nchicane, to perplex the clearest laws, to retard the decision of\nthe plainest cases, and to elude the sentence of the ablest judges.\nWithout some such management as this, the passions of the litigants\ncould not have been kept up in such heat and fury, but must gradually\nhave cooled, and died away of themselves. Add this, then, to the other\nfeatures, so well delineated, and you will have the picture of _ancient\nlitigation_ complete.\n\nAnd what think we, now, of this picture? Is there truth and nature in\nit? Are we at all concerned in this representation; and do we discover\nany resemblance to it in what is passing elsewhere, I mean in modern\ntimes, and even in Christian societies? If we do, let us acknowledge\nwith honesty, but indeed with double shame, that, like the Pagans of\nold, we have the art to pervert the best things to the worst purposes;\nand that the _lusts_ of men are still predominant over the wisest and\nmost beneficent institutions of civil justice.\n\nIndeed, as to ourselves, the mild and equitable spirit of our laws\nmight be enough, one would think, to inspire another temper: but\nwhen we further consider the divine spirit of the Gospel, by which\nwe pretend to be governed, and the end of which is _charity_, our\nprodigious abuse of _both_ must needs cover us with confusion.\n\nThe instruction, then, from what has been said, is this: That, since,\nas St. James observes, all our _wars and fightings_ with each other\nproceed only from our _lusts_, and since _these_ have even prevailed\nto that degree as to corrupt the two best gifts, which God, in his\nmercy, ever bestowed on mankind, that is, to make _Religion_ and _Law_\nsubservient to our bitter animosities; since all this, I say, has been\nmade appear in the preceding comment on the sacred text, it becomes\nus, severally, to consider what our part has been in the disordered\nscene, now set before us: what care we have taken to check those unruly\npassions, which are so apt, by indulgence, to tyrannize over us; and,\nif this care has been less than it ought to have been, what may be\nthe consequence of our neglect. We should, in a word, _take heed, how\nwe bite and devour one another_; not only, as the Apostle admonishes,\n_that we be not consumed one of another_; but lest, in the end, we\nincur the chastisement of that LAW, we have so industriously perverted,\nand the still sorer chastisement of that RELIGION, we have so impiously\nabused.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON VIII.\n\nPREACHED APRIL 29, 1770.\n\n1 TIM. i. 5.\n\n _The end of the Commandment is charity, out of a pure heart, and of\n a good conscience, and of faith unfeigned._\n\n\nThe Apostle, in the preceding verse, had warned Timothy against\n_giving heed to fables and endless genealogies_: by FABLES, meaning\ncertain Jewish fictions and traditions applied to the explication\nof theological questions, and not unlike the tales of the pagan\nmythologists, contrived by them to cover the monstrous stories of their\nGods; and, by GENEALOGIES, the derivation of Angelic and Spiritual\nnatures[65], according to a fantastic system, invented by the Oriental\nphilosophers, and thence adopted by some of the Grecian Sects. These\n_fables and genealogies_ (by which the Jewish and Pagan converts to\nChristianity had much adulterated the faith of the Gospel) the Apostle\nsets himself to expose and reprobate, as producing nothing but curious\nand fruitless disputations; being indeed, as he calls them, _endless_,\nor interminable[66]; because, having no foundation in the revealed word\nof God, they were drawn out, varied, and multiplied at pleasure by\nthose, who delighted in such fanatical visions.\n\nThen follows the text.\u2014_The end of the Commandment, is_ CHARITY:\n_out of a_ PURE HEART: _and of a_ GOOD CONSCIENCE; _and of_ FAITH\nUNFEIGNED\u2014As if the Apostle had said, \u201cI have cautioned you against\nthis pernicious folly: but, if ye must needs deal in the way of\nMythology and Genealogy, I will tell you how ye may employ your\ningenuity to more advantage. Take Christian _Charity_, for your theme:\n_mythologize_ that capital Grace of your profession; or, deduce the\n_parentage_ of it, according to the steps, which I will point out\nto you. For it springs immediately out of _a pure heart_; which,\nitself, is derived from _a good conscience_; as that, again, is the\ngenuine offspring or emanation of _faith unfeigned_. In this way,\nye may gratify your mythologic or genealogical vein, innocently and\nusefully[67]; for ye may learn yourselves, and teach others, how to\nacquire and perfect that character, which is the great object of your\nreligion, and _the end of the Commandment_.\u201d\n\nLet us, then, if you please, attend to this genealogical deduction of\nthe learned Apostle; and see, if the descent of Christian charity be\nnot truly and properly investigated by him.\n\nI. CHARITY, says he, is _out of a pure heart_: that is, it proceeds\nfrom a heart, free from the habits of sin, and unpolluted by corrupt\naffections.\n\nTo see with what propriety, the Apostle makes a pure heart the\n_parent_ of charity, we are to reflect, that this benevolent temper,\nwhich inclines us to wish and do well to others, is the proper growth\nand produce, indeed, of the human mind, but of the human mind in\nits native and original integrity. To provide effectually for the\nmaintenance of the social virtues, it hath pleased God to implant\nin man, not only the power of reason, which enables him to see the\nconnexion between his own happiness and that of others, but also\ncertain instincts and propensities, which make him _feel_ it, and,\nwithout reflexion, incline him to take part in foreign interests. For,\namong the other wonders of our make, this is _one_, that we are so\nformed as, whether we will or no, _to rejoice with them that rejoice,\nand weep with them that weep_[68]. But now this sympathetic tenderness,\nwhich nature hath put into our hearts for the concerns of each other,\nmay be much impaired by habitual neglect, or selfish gratifications.\nIf, instead of listening to those calls of nature, which, on the\nentrance into life, are incessantly, but gently, urging us to acts of\ngenerosity, we turn a deaf ear to them, and, charmed by the suggestions\nof self-love, yield up ourselves to the dominion of the grosser\nappetite, it cannot be but that the love of others, however natural to\nus, must decline, and become, at length, a feeble motive to action;\nor, which amounts to the same thing, be constantly overpowered by the\nundue prevalence of other principles. Thus we may see, how ambition,\navarice, sensuality, or any other of the more selfish passions, tends\ndirectly, by indulgence, to obstruct the growth of _charity_; and how\nfavourable an uncorrupt mind is to the production and maturity of this\ndivine virtue.\n\nBut, further, the impurities of the heart do not only hinder the\nexertions of _benevolence_; they have even a worse effect, they cause\nus to pervert and misapply it. It is not, perhaps, so easy a matter,\nas some imagine, to divest ourselves of all attachment to the interest\nof our fellow-creatures. But, by a long misuse of our faculties, we\nmay come in time to mistake the objects of _true_ interest; and so\nbe carried, by the motives of benevolence itself, to do irreparable\nmischief to those we would most befriend and oblige. This seems to\nbe the case of those most abandoned of all sinners, who take pains\nto corrupt others, and not only do wicked things themselves, _but\nhave pleasure in those who do them_[69]. All that can be said for\nthese unhappy victims of their own lusts, is, that their _perverted\nbenevolence_ prompts them to encourage others in that course of life,\nfrom which, if it were rightly exercised, they would endeavour, with\nall their power, to divert them.\n\nSo necessary it is, that charity should be out of _a pure heart_! It is\npolluted in its very birth, unless it proceed from an honest mind: it\nis spurious and illegitimate, if it be not so descended.\n\nII. The next step in this line of moral ancestry, is a GOOD CONSCIENCE:\nwhich phrase is not to be taken here in the negative sense, and as\nequivalent only to a _pure heart_; but as expressing a further, a\n_positive_ degree of goodness. For so we find it explained elsewhere;\n_having_, says St. Peter, a GOOD CONSCIENCE, _that whereas they\nspeak evil of you, as_ EVIL DOERS, _they may be ashamed that falsely\naccuse your_ GOOD CONVERSATION _in Christ Jesus: for it is better,\nif the will of God be so, that ye suffer for_ WELL DOING, _than for\nevil doing_[70]. Whence, by _a good conscience_, we are authorized\nto understand a mind, _conscious to itself of beneficent actions_.\nAnd thus the Apostle\u2019s intention will be, to insinuate to us, that,\nto be free from _depraved affections_, we must be actively virtuous;\nand that we must be _zealous_ in good works, if we would attain to\nthat _purity_ of heart, which is proper to beget the genuine virtue of\nChristian charity.\n\nFor, we may conceive of the matter, thus. A _good conscience_, or a\nmind enured to right action, is most likely, and best enabled, to shake\noff all corrupt partialities; and, as being intent on the strenuous\nexercise of its duty, in particular instances, to acquire, in the\nend, that tone of virtue, which strengthens, at once, and refines the\naffections, till they expand themselves into an universal good-will.\nThus we see that, without this moral discipline, we should scarce\npossess, or not long retain, a _pure heart_; and that the heart, _if\npure_, would yet be inert and sluggish, and unapt to entertain that\nprompt and ready benevolence, which true charity implies.\n\nSo that an active practical virtue, as serving both to purify and\ninvigorate the kind affections, has deservedly a place given to it in\nthis lineal descent of Christian love. But,\n\nIII. The Apostle rises higher yet in this genealogical scale of\ncharity, and acquaints us that a _good conscience_, or a course of\nactive positive virtue, is not properly and lawfully descended, unless\nit proceed from a FAITH UNFEIGNED, that is, a sincere undissembled\nbelief of the Christian religion.\n\nAnd the reason is plain. For there is no dependance on virtuous\npractice; we cannot expect that it should either be steady, or lasting,\nunless the principle, from which it flows, be something nobler and more\nefficacious, than considerations taken from the beauty, propriety,\nand usefulness of virtue itself. Our active powers have need to be\nsustained and strengthened by energies of a higher kind, than those\nwhich mere philosophy supplies. We shall neither be able to bear up\nagainst the difficulties of a good life, nor to stand out against the\ntemptations, which an evil world is always ready to throw in our way,\nbut by placing a firm trust on the promises of God, and by keeping our\nminds fixed on the glorious hopes and assurances of the Gospel. And\n_experience_ may satisfy us, that practical virtue has no stability or\nconsistency, without these supports.\n\nBesides, considering a _good conscience_, or a moral practical conduct,\nwith an eye to its influence on a _pure heart_, till it issue in\ncomplete _charity_, we cannot but see how the Christian faith is\ncalculated to direct its progress, and secure the great end proposed.\nFor the whole system of our divine religion, which hath its foundation\nin _grace_; its _precepts_, which breathe nothing but love and amity;\nits _doctrines_, which only present to us, under different views,\nthe transcendent goodness of God in the great work of redemption;\nits _history_, which records the most engaging instances of active\nbenevolence; all this cannot but exceedingly inspirit our affections,\nand carry them out in a vigorous and uniform prosecution of the\nsubordinate _means_, which are to produce that last perfection of our\nnature, a pure and permanent love of mankind. For at every step we\ncannot but see the _end of the commandment_, so perpetually held out\nto us, and derive a fresh inducement from _faith_, to accomplish and\nobtain it.\n\nIndeed, to produce this effect, our _faith_, as the Apostle adds, must\nbe UNFEIGNED: that is, it must be nourished and intimately rooted in\nthe heart; we must not only yield a general assent to the sacred truths\nof our religion, we must embrace them with earnestness and zeal, we\nmust rely upon them with an unshaken confidence and resolution. But\nall this will be no difficulty to those who derive their _faith_\nfrom its proper source, that is, who make a diligent study of the\nholy scriptures: where _only_ we learn what the _true_ faith (which\nwill ever be most friendly to virtue) is; and whence we shall _best_\nderive those motives and considerations, which are proper to excite and\nfortify this principle in us.\n\nAnd thus, that Charity, which a _pure mind_ gives the liberty of\nexerting, and which a _good conscience_ manifests and at the same time\nimproves, will, further, be so sublimed and perfected by the influence\nof divine _faith_, as will render it the sovereign guide of life, and\nthe pride and ornament of humanity.\n\nOr, to place the descent of Charity, in its true and natural order, it\nmust spring, first, from an _unfeigned faith_ in the Gospel of Jesus:\nthat faith must then produce, and shew itself in, a _good conscience_:\nand that conscience must be thoroughly purged from all selfish and\ndisorderly _affections_: whence, lastly, the celestial offspring\nof _Charity_ has its birth, and comes forth in all the purity and\nintegrity of its nature.\n\nFROM THIS lineage of Christian Charity, thus deduced, many instructive\nlessons may be drawn. We may learn to distinguish the true and\ngenuine, from pretended Charity: we have, hence, the surest way of\ndiscerning the spirits of other men, and of trying our own: we may\ncorrect some popular mistakes concerning the virtue of charity; and\nshall best comprehend the force and significancy of the several\ncommendations, which the inspired writers, in many places, and in very\ngeneral terms, bestow upon it.\n\nLet me conclude this discourse with an instance of such instruction,\nrespecting each of those heads, which the order of the text hath\nafforded the opportunity of considering.\n\nAnd, _first_, from the necessity of a PURE HEART, we are instructed\nwhat to think of the benevolence of those men, who, though enslaved to\ntheir own selfish passions, are seldom the most backward to make large\npretences to this virtue. But, be their pretences what they will, we\nknow with certainty, that, if the heart be impure, its charity must be\ndefective. It must, of course, be weak and partial; confined in its\nviews, and languid in its operations; in a word, a faint and powerless\nquality, and not that generous, diffusive, universal principle, which\nalone deserves the exalted name of _Charity_.\n\nWe conclude, also, on the same grounds, that the hatred of vice is no\nbreach of Christian charity. This charity is required to flow from a\n_pure heart_. But there is not in nature a stronger antipathy, than\nbetween _purity_, and _impurity_. So that we might as well expect light\nand darkness, heat and cold, to associate, as spotless virtue not to\ntake offence at its opposite. I know, indeed, that the hatred due to\nthe vices of men, is too easily transferred to their persons. But that\ncharity, which is lineally descended from _faith_, will see to make a\ndifference between them; and while it feels a quick resentment against\n_sin_, will conceive, nay will, by that very resentment, demonstrate, a\ntender concern for _sinners_, for whom Christ died.\n\n_Secondly_, from the rank, which a GOOD CONSCIENCE holds in this family\nof love, we are admonished to avoid the mistake of those, who are\ninclined to rest in negative virtue, as the _end of the commandment_;\nand who account their charity full and complete, when it keeps them\nonly from intending, or doing mischief to others. The Apostle, on the\ncontrary, gives us to understand, that its descent is irregular, if\nit be not allied to active positive virtue; such as takes a pleasure\nin kind offices, is zealous to promote the welfare of others, and is\nfertile in _good works_. And this conclusion is the more necessary to\nbe inforced upon us, since, in a world like this, where vice is sure to\nbe active enough, the interests of society will not permit that Charity\nshould be idle.\n\nLastly, from the lineal descent of Charity from FAITH, we must needs\ninfer, that infidelity is not a matter of that indifference to social\nlife, which many careless persons suppose it to be. It is the glory of\nour faith, that it terminates in charity. Every article of our creed is\na fresh incitement to good works: in so much that, he who understands\nhis religion most perfectly, and is most firmly persuaded of it, can\nscarce fail of approving himself the best man, as well as the best\n_Christian_. And this, again, is a consideration, which should affect\nall those who profess to have any concern for the interests of society\nand moral virtue.\n\nThus it appears, how instructive the doctrine of the text is, and how\nusefully, as well as elegantly, the Apostle sets before us, in this\nshort genealogical table, the proper ancestry of Charity: in which\n_Faith_, as the ultimate progenitor, begets an _active virtue_; and\nthat, impregnating the _heart_ with pure affections, produces at\nlength this divine offspring of _Christian love_.\n\nIf we had found this mythological fiction in Xenophon or Plato, we\nshould have much admired the instruction conveyed in it. Let it not\nabate our reverence for this moral lesson, that it comes from an\nApostle of Jesus, and, if not dressed out in the charms of human\neloquence, has all the authority of truth and divine inspiration to\nrecommend it to us.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON IX.\n\nPREACHED NOVEMBER 9, 1766.\n\nROM. xii. 10.\n\n\u2014_In honour preferring one another._\n\n\nIt is much to the honour of the inspired writers, because it shews\nthem to be no enthusiasts, that, with all their zeal for the revealed\ndoctrines of the Gospel, they never forget or overlook the common\nduties of _humanity_; those duties, which Reason itself, a prior\nRevelation, had made known to the wiser part of mankind.\n\nNay, which is more remarkable, they sometimes condescend to enforce\nwhat are called the _lesser moralities_[71]; that is, those inferiour\nduties, which, not being of absolute necessity to the support of human\nsociety, are frequently overlooked by other moralists, and yet, as\ncontributing very much to the comfortable enjoyment of it, are of\n_real_ moment, and deserve a suitable regard.\n\nThe text is an instance of this sort\u2014_in honour preferring one\nanother_\u2014the NATURE, and GROUND, and right APPLICATION, of which duty,\nit is my present purpose to explain.\n\n1. The general NATURE of this virtue consists in a disposition to\nexpress our good will to others by exteriour testimonies of respect;\nto consult the credit and honour of those we converse with, though at\nsome expence of our own vanity and self-love. It implies a readiness to\nprevent them in the customary decencies of conversation; a facility to\ngive way to their reasonable pretensions, and even to abate something\nof our own just rights. It requires us to suppress our petulant claims\nof superiority; to decline all frivolous contests and petty rivalries;\nto moderate our own demands of pre-eminence and priority; and, in a\nword, to please others, rather than ourselves.\n\nIt is an easy, social, conciliating virtue; a virtue made up of\n_humility_ and _benevolence_; the _former_, inclining us not to think\nmore highly of ourselves than we ought; and the _latter_, to give our\nChristian brother an innocent satisfaction when we can.\n\nAnd our obligation to the practice of this virtue is FOUNDED,\n\nII. On the clearest reasons, taken both from the _nature of man_, and\nthe _genius of our holy Religion_.\n\nAnd, FIRST, from _the nature of man_.\n\nAmong the various principles, some of them, in appearance, discordant\nand contradictory, which constitute our common nature, one of the\nfirst to take our attention is, \u201cA conscious sense of dignity;\u201d an\nopinion of self-consequence, which mixes itself with all our thoughts\nand deliberations; prompting us to entertain lofty sentiments of our\nown worth, and aspiring to something like superiority and dominion\nover other men. This principle, which appears very early, and is\nstrongest in the more generous dispositions, is highly necessary to a\nbeing formed for virtuous action; and naturally leads to the exertion\nof such qualities as are proper to benefit society, as well as to gain\nthat ascendency in it, to which we pretend. It is the spring, indeed,\nof every commendable emulation; puts in act all our better and nobler\nfaculties; and gives nerves to that labor and industry, by which every\nworthy accomplishment is attained.\n\nBut now this principle (so natural and useful), when it is not\nchecked by others, but is suffered to take the lead and predominate\non all occasions, undisciplined and uncontrolled, easily grows into\na very offensive and hurtful quality: _offensive_, because it is now\nexerted to the humiliation of every other, who is actuated by the same\nprinciple; and _hurtful_, because, in this undue degree, it counteracts\nthe very purpose, _the good of human society_, for which it was\ndesigned.\n\nThis quality we know by the name of PRIDE. The other moderate degree\nof self-esteem, which is allowable and virtuous, seems not (I suppose,\nfrom its rare appearance under that form) to have acquired in our\nlanguage a distinct name.\n\nTo _Pride_, then, the pernicious and too common issue of self-love, it\nbecame necessary, that some other principle should be opposed. And such\na principle, as is proper to correct the malignity of pride, we find in\nthat _philanthropy_, which, by an instinct of the same common nature,\ndisposeth us to consult the happiness, and to conciliate to ourselves\nthe good will and affection, of mankind. This benevolent movement of\nthe mind is, further, quickened by the mutual interest all men have\nin the exercise of it. For Pride is disarmed by submission; and, by\nreceding from our own pretensions, we take the most likely way to\nmoderate those of other men. Thus, the generous affections are kept in\nplay; reciprocal civilities are maintained; and, by the habit of _each\npreferring other_, which prudence would advise, if instinct did not\ninspire, the peace of society is preserved, its joy encreased, and even\nour vanity, so far as it is a just and natural affection, gratified and\nindulged.\n\nThe reason of the Apostolic precept is, then, laid deep in the\nconstitution of human nature; which is so wonderfully formed, that its\n_perfection_ requires the reconciliation of contrary qualities; and\nits _happiness_ results from making benevolence itself subservient to\nself-love.\n\n2. If, from the philosophic consideration of man, we turn to the\n_genius of the Gospel_, we shall there find this conclusion of natural\nreason strengthened and confirmed by evangelical motives.\n\nBenevolence, which, in the Gospel, takes the name of _Charity_, hath\na larger range in this new dispensation, than in that of nature. The\ndoctrine, and still more the example, of Jesus, extends the duty of\nhumility and self-denial; requires us to make ampler sacrifices of\nself-love, and to give higher demonstrations of good-will to others,\nthan mere reason could well demand or enforce. He, that was so far\nfrom _seeking his own_, that he _emptied himself of all his glory_,\nand stooped from heaven to earth, for the sake of man, hath a right\nto expect, from his followers, a more than ordinary effort to conform\nto so divine a precedent, a peculiar attention to the mutual benefits\nand concerns of each other. It is but little that we keep within\nsome decent bounds our aspiring tempers and inclinations: we are now\nto _subject_ ourselves to our Christian brethren; to renounce even\nour innocent and lawful pretensions; and to forego every natural\ngratification, when the purposes of Christian Charity call us to this\narduous task.\n\nFor the Gospel, it is to be observed, has taken us out of the loose\nand general relation of men, and has bound us together in the closer\nand more endearing tie of _Brethren_: it exalts the good-will, we\nwere obliged to bear to the species, into the affection, which\nconsanguinity inspires for the individuals of a private family. The\nApostle, therefore, in the words preceding the text, bids us\u2014_be\nkindly affectioned one to another with_ BROTHERLY LOVE\u2014not, with the\n_love_, that unites one _man_ with another[72], which is the highest\npretension of mere morality; but with the _love_, that knits together\nnatural _brethren_[73], which is the proper boast and character of\nevangelical love. The words of the original have a peculiar energy[74].\nThey express that instinctive warmth of affection, which nature puts\ninto our hearts for our nearest kindred, such as communicate with us by\nthe participation of one common blood.\n\nSo that the same compliances, we should make with _their_ inclinations,\nthe same preference, we should give to _their_ humour and interest\nabove our own, should now be extended and exercised towards all\nChristians; and that principle of an ardent affection, by which we are\nled to make the most chearful condescensions to our _natural_ brother,\nshould work in us the same generous consideration of our _spiritual_\nbrother, _for whom Christ died_.\n\nHaving explained the _nature_ of this duty, and the _grounds_, both in\nreason and religion, on which it rests, it now remains,\n\nIII. To provide for the RIGHT APPLICATION of it in practice. And here,\nin truth, the whole difficulty lies.\n\nIt is evident enough, I suppose, from what has been said, That the\nmoral and Christian duty of _preferring one another in honour_,\nrespects only social peace and charity, and terminates in the good and\nedification of our Christian brother. Its use is, to soften the minds\nof men, and to draw them from that savage rusticity, which engenders\nmany vices, and discredits the virtues themselves. But when men had\nexperienced the benefit of this complying temper, and further saw the\nends, not of charity only, but of SELF-INTEREST, that might be answered\nby it; they considered no longer its just purpose and application,\nbut stretched it to that officious sedulity, and extreme servility of\nadulation, which we too often observe and lament in polished life.\n\nHence, that infinite attention and consideration, which is so rigidly\nexacted, and so duly paid, in the commerce of the world: hence, that\nprostitution of mind, which leaves a man no will, no sentiment,\nno principle, no character; all which disappear under the uniform\nexhibition of good-manners: hence, those insidious arts, those studied\ndisguises, those obsequious flatteries, nay, those affected freedoms,\nin a word, those multiplied and nicely-varied forms of insinuation\nand address; the direct aim of which may be to acquire the fame of\npoliteness and good-breeding; but the certain effect, to corrupt every\nvirtue, to sooth every vanity, and to inflame every vice, of the human\nheart.\n\nThese fatal mischiefs introduce themselves under the pretence\nand semblance of that _humanity_, which the text encourages and\nenjoins. But the _genuine_ virtue is easily distinguished from the\n_counterfeit_, and by the following plain _signs_.\n\n1. TRUE POLITENESS is modest, unpretending, and generous. It appears as\nlittle as may be; and, when it does a courtesy, would willingly conceal\nit. It chuses silently to forego its own claims, not officiously to\nwithdraw them. It engages a man to _prefer his neighbour to himself_,\nbecause he really esteems him; because he is tender of his reputation;\nbecause he thinks it more manly, more Christian, to descend a little\nhimself, than to degrade another\u2014It respects, in a word, the _credit\nand estimation_ of his neighbour.\n\nThe mimic of this amiable virtue, FALSE POLITENESS, is, on the\nother hand, ambitious, servile, timorous. It affects popularity; is\nsolicitous to please, and to be taken notice of. The man of this\ncharacter does not offer, but obtrude, his civilities: _because_ he\nwould merit by this assiduity; because, in despair of winning regard\nby any worthier qualities, he would be sure to make the most of this;\nand, lastly, because of all things he would dread, by the omission of\nany punctilious observance, to give offence.\u2014In a word, this sort\nof politeness respects, for its immediate object, the _favour and\nconsideration_ of our neighbour.\n\n2. Again: the man, who governs himself by the _spirit_ of the Apostle\u2019s\nprecept, expresses his _preference of another_ in such a way as\nis worthy of himself: in all innocent compliances, in all honest\ncivilities, in all decent and manly condescensions.\n\nOn the contrary, the man of the world, who rests in the _letter_ of\nthis command, is regardless of the _means_, by which he conducts\nhimself. He respects neither his own dignity, nor that of human\nnature. Truth, reason, virtue, all are equally betrayed by this supple\nimpostor. He assents to the errors, though the most pernicious; he\napplauds the follies, though the most ridiculous; he sooths the vices,\nthough the most flagrant, of other men. He never contradicts, though\nin the softest form of insinuation; he never disapproves, though by\na respectful silence; he never condemns, though it be only by a good\nexample. In short, he is sollicitous for nothing, but by some studied\ndevices to hide from others, and, if possible, to palliate to himself,\nthe grossness of his illiberal adulation.\n\n3. Lastly, we may be sure, that the _ultimate_ ENDS, for which these\ndifferent _objects_ are pursued, and by so different _means_, must also\nlie wide of each other.\n\nAccordingly, the truly polite man would, by all proper testimonies of\nrespect, promote the credit and estimation of his neighbour, _because_\nhe sees, that, by this generous consideration of each other, the peace\nof the world is in a good degree preserved; _because_ he knows that\nthese mutual attentions prevent animosities, soften the fierceness of\nmen\u2019s manners, and dispose them to all the offices of benevolence and\ncharity; _because_, in a word, the interests of society are best served\nby this conduct; and _because_ he understands it to be his duty, _to\nlove his neighbour_.\n\nThe falsely polite, on the contrary, are anxious by all means whatever,\nto procure the favour and consideration of those they converse with,\n_because_ they regard ultimately nothing more than their private\ninterest; _because_ they perceive, that their own selfish designs are\nbest carried on by such practices: in a word, _because_ they _love\nthemselves_.\n\nThus we see, the genuine virtue consults the honour of others by worthy\nmeans, and for the noblest purpose; the counterfeit, sollicits their\nfavour by dishonest compliances, and for the basest end.\n\nBy such evident marks are these two characters distinguished from each\nother! and so impossible it is, without a wilful perversion of our\nfaculties, to mistake in the application of the Apostle\u2019s precept!\n\nIt follows, you see, from what has been said, \u201cthat integrity of heart,\nas Solomon long since observed, is the best guide in morals[75].\u201d We\nmay impose upon others by a shew of civility; but the deception goes no\nfarther. We cannot help knowing, in our own case, if we be ingenuous,\nwhen this virtue retains its nature, and when it degenerates into the\nvice that usurps its name. To conclude, an honest man runs no risk in\nbeing polite. Let us only _respect_ ourselves; and we shall rarely do\namiss, when, as the Apostle advises, _in honour we prefer one another_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON X.\n\nPREACHED MAY 6, 1770.\n\nJOHN xiii. 8.\n\n \u2014_Jesus answered him, If I wash thee not, thou hast no part with\n me._\n\n\nTo comprehend the full meaning of these words (which, as we shall\nsee, are of no small importance) we must carefully attend to the\ncircumstances of the history, which gave occasion to them.\n\nThe chapter begins thus\u2014_Now before the feast of the Passover, when\nJesus knew that his hour was come, that he should depart out of this\nworld to the Father, having loved his own, which were in the world, he\nloved them to the end._\u2014\n\nWe are prepared by these words to expect something, on the part of our\nLord, very expressive of his love for his Disciples.\n\nThe _season_, too, is critical, and must excite our attention: _it was\nbefore the feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour was\ncome, that he should depart out of this world to the Father_; in other\nwords, just before his crucifixion.\n\nThere is, indeed, some difficulty in fixing the precise time, when\nthe transaction, now to be related, happened. I take no part in the\ndisquisition, because it is not material to my purpose, and would\ndivert me too much from it. It is enough to say, that it was at most,\nbut the evening before the Paschal supper was celebrated, and therefore\nbut two days before Jesus suffered.\n\nThe history proceeds\u2014\u201c_And supper being ended_ (or rather, as the text\nshould have been translated, _the time of supper being come_[76]) _the\nDevil having now put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon\u2019s son,\nto betray him, Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into\nhis hands, and that he was come from God and went to God; he riseth\nfrom supper, and laid aside his garments, and took a towel and girded\nhimself. After that, he poureth water into a bason, and began to wash\nthe Disciples feet, and to wipe them with the towel wherewith he was\ngirded._\u201d\n\nThus far all is clear. Jesus condescended to _wash the feet of his\nDisciples_; a ministry, very common in the East, and usually performed\nby servants, in discharge of their duty towards their masters, or, by\ninferiors, at least, in testimony of respect towards their superiors;\nas is abundantly plain from many instances.\n\nThis then was ONE end of this _washing_. Our Saviour meant it as a\nlesson of humility and condescension to his Disciples. But was it the\nONLY, or the _chief_ end? That is the point we are now to consider.\n\nLet it be remembered, then, that nothing was more familiar with the\nJews, than to convey an information to others, especially if that\ninformation was of importance, by natural, rather than artificial\nsigns, I mean by _deeds_, rather than _words_; as every one knows,\nwho has but dipped into the history and writings of the Old and New\nTestament. The transaction before us, if understood _only_ as a lesson\nof humility, is a lesson conveyed to the Disciples in this form[77].\n\nNow, this way of _information by action_ was occasionally made to serve\nTWO contrary purposes: either to give more force and emphasis to an\ninstruction; or, to cloathe it with some degree of obscurity, or even\nambiguity. For _actions_, speaking to the eye, when the purpose of\nthem is by any means clearly ascertained, convey the most lively and\nexpressive information: on the other hand, when it is not, they are\nsomewhat obscure, one thing being to be collected by us from another:\nor the information is even ambiguous, as the action may signify more\nthings than one.\n\nSometimes, the primary sense is declared, or easily understood; while,\nyet, a secondary sense, a less apparent one, but more momentous, is,\nalso, intended.\n\nThis, upon inquiry, may be the case before us. Christ\u2019s _washing the\nfeet of his Disciples_ obviously conveys this instruction, which is\nasserted, too, in express words\u2014that, _as he, their Lord and master,\nwashed their feet, so they ought also to wash one another\u2019s feet_[78].\nBut _another_, and far more important, instruction _may_ be conveyed\nin this action, though it be not so fully and explicitly declared. It\n_may_, I say, be conveyed: from laying all circumstances together,\nwe shall be able to form a judgment, whether it were, indeed, in the\nAgent\u2019s _intention_ to convey it.\n\n_First_, as I said, the narrative of this transaction (which, take it\nas you will, was clearly designed to be an _information by action_) is\nprefaced in a very extraordinary manner. _Jesus, knowing that his hour\nwas come\u2014knowing too that the Father had given all things into his\nhands, and that he was come from God, and went to God_, proceeded\u2014to\ndo what? Why, to give his disciples a lesson of humility and charity,\nin washing their feet. The Lesson, no doubt, was important; and\nbecoming the character of their divine master. But does it rise up to\nthose _ideas_ of importance, which we are prepared to entertain of an\naction, performed at such a time, and so awfully introduced? _His hour\nwas come\u2014the Father had given all things into his hands\u2014he came from\nGod, and was now going to God._ All this announces something beyond\nand above a common lecture of morality; something, which might be a\nsuitable close to the instructions of such a teacher.\n\nLet us see, _next_, how the action is received. One of the disciples,\nPeter, surprized at his Lord\u2019s condescension, says very naturally,\n_Lord, dost thou wash my feet?_ Jesus, to remove his scruples, replies,\n_What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter_. The\nwords are ambiguous, and may mean, \u201cThou shalt know, _immediately_,\nfrom the explication I am about to give of this action;\u201d or, \u201cthou\nshalt know _hereafter_, in due time, and by other means,\u201d what the\npurport of it is. Still Peter, not satisfied with this answer, but\nconfounded at the apparent indignity of Christ\u2019s condescension, replies\nresolutely, _Thou shalt never wash my feet_. This resistance was to be\novercome, that the _information_, whatever it was, might take place,\nby the performance of that which was the vehicle of it. Jesus answers,\ntherefore, more directly and solemnly, IF I WASH THEE NOT, THOU HAST\nNO PART WITH ME\u2014Which words, whether understood by Peter or not, were\nclearly seen to have _some_ meaning of the last concern to him; and,\nstruck with this apprehension, he submits.\n\nBut what! taking these oracular words, in the sense only in which Jesus\nthought fit to explain them, we hardly see the force and propriety of\nthem. For, had Peter _no part with Jesus_, that is, was he incapable of\nreceiving any benefit from him, unless he had this ceremony of washing,\nperformed upon him, when that ceremony had no further use or meaning,\nthan to convey a moral lesson? If he had not learnt _this_ lesson from\nChrist, he might have learnt many _others_: or, he might have learnt\n_this_, some other way: and taking it in either light, he might still\nbe said to _have some part_ with Jesus, though he had not been _washed_\nby him.\n\nThe true import, then, of these enigmatic words, and of the whole\ntransaction which is here recorded, begins to appear, and is further\nopened by the sequel of Peter\u2019s conversation with Jesus. For,\nunderstanding, that this _ablution_ was, some way so necessary to him,\nPeter subjoins, _Not my feet only, but also my hands and my head_.\nJesus saith to him, _He that is washed, needeth not, save to wash his\nfeet, and is clean every whit; and ye are clean, but not all; for he\nknew who should betray him: therefore said he, Ye are not all clean_.\n\nIt was, we see, the uncleanness of sin, or the _filth of an evil\nconscience_, which was to be taken away by this washing. More than a\nsingle moral lesson, how excellent soever, was, therefore, couched in\nthis act; indeed, the necessity and efficacy of CERTAIN MEANS, by which\nmankind were, in general, to be cleansed from sin, was that which was\nultimately and mainly signified by it. He that was _thus washed, was\nclean every whit_; and the _information_ of this benefit being the end\nof the washing, it was enough if that was conveyed by washing any one\npart.\n\nYou see at length to what all this tends. Jesus, knowing the secret\ntreachery of Judas, and, by the divine spirit which was in him,\nforeseeing the destined effect of that treachery; knowing, that he\nwas now, forthwith, to suffer death upon the cross, the purpose, for\nwhich he came from God, and for the execution of which he only waited\nbefore he returned to him; considering, withal, the immense benefit,\nwhich was to accrue to mankind from his voluntary devotion of himself\nto this death, and that the eternal Father, for the sake of it, _had\ngiven all things into his hands_, had given him the power to redeem all\nthe sons of Adam from the vassalage of sin and death, by virtue of that\nBLOOD which he was now to pour out upon the cross, as a propitiation\nfor them; Jesus, I say, foreseeing and considering all this, chose\nthis critical season, when _his hour was now come_, to signify by the\nceremony of washing his disciples feet[79], the efficacy and value of\nhis own precious blood, by which alone they, and all mankind, were to\nhave all their sins purged and washed away for ever.\n\nThis was apparently the momentous instruction, which it was our Lord\u2019s\npurpose to convey in this transaction. He would, _first_, shew that\nwe were to be washed in his blood; and _then_, subordinately, that we\nwere to follow his example in a readiness _to do as he had done_; that\nis, not only to _wash_ each other, but, emblematically still, to lay\ndown our lives and pour out our blood, if need be, for the sake of the\nbrethren. All circumstances concur to assure us, that such was the\nreal secret intent of this mysterious washing; and thus, at length, we\nunderstand the full purport of those words\u2014_If I wash thee not, thou\nhast no part with me_[80].\n\nIf it be still said, that Jesus explains his own purpose differently,\nit is enough to reply, that these emblematic actions were generally\nsignificative of more things, than one; and that the manner of Jesus\nwas, on other occasions, to enforce that instruction, which was not\nthe primary one in his intention[81]: the reason of which conduct was\nfounded in this rule, so constantly observed by him, of conveying\ninformation to his disciples, only, _as they were able to bear\nit_[82]. In a word, he gave them many instructions, and _this_, among\nthe rest, darkly and imperfectly, because they could not then bear a\nstronger light; but yet with such clearness as might, afterwards, let\nthem into his purpose; leaving it to the Holy Ghost (whose peculiar\nprovince it was) to illuminate their minds, in due time; to reveal\nall that had been obscurely intimated; and to open the full meaning\nof his discourses and actions, as well as to _bring them all to their\nremembrance_[83].\n\nFrom this memorable part of the Gospel-history, thus opened and\nexplained, we may draw some important conclusions.\n\n1. FIRST, we learn, if the comment here given be a just one, That _the\nblood of Christ_ (so an Apostle hath expressed himself) _cleanseth\nus from all sin_[84]: I mean, that the death of Christ was a true,\nproper, and real propitiation for our sins; and not a mere figure, or\ntropical form of speech; as too many, who call themselves Christians,\nconceive of it. For the pertinence and propriety of the representative\naction, performed by our Lord, is founded in this supposition, \u201cThat\nthe blood of Christ was necessary to our purification, and that, but\nfor our being _washed in his blood_[85], we should be yet in our sins.\u201d\nJesus himself, in explaining this transaction, so far as he thought\nfit to explain it, confines us to this idea. For in this sense, only,\nis it true\u2014_that we, who are washed, are clean every whit_\u2014and, that\n_unless we are washed by Christ, we have no part with him_.\n\nSuch, then, is the information given us in this ceremony of _washing\nthe disciples feet_; and not in this, only. For, besides the present\nemblematic act, performed by our Lord, for the special benefit of his\ndisciples, the TWO Sacraments, it is to be observed, were purposely\ninstituted, for the general use of his church, to hold forth to us an\nimage of his _efficacious blood_, poured out for us: the sacrament\nof BAPTISM, by the reference it had (like this act) to the typical\n_washings_ of the Law; and the sacrament of the LORD\u2019S SUPPER, as\nreferring, in like manner, to the typical _sacrifices_ of that\ndispensation. Of such moment, in the view of our Lord himself, was this\ndoctrine of _propitiation_! And so careful, or rather anxious, was\nhe, that this consolatory idea of _redemption through his_ BLOOD[86]\n(suggested in so many ways, and in so striking a manner) should be\nalways present to us!\n\nNor were his Apostles (let me, further, remark) less intent in\nprosecuting this design. For they insist every-where, and with a\nsingular emphasis\u2014that _Christ, our passover, is sacrificed for\nus_[87]\u2014and that _we are_ WASHED, _and sanctified, and saved, by the\nsprinkling of the blood of Jesus_[88].\n\nGo now, then, and say, that the _blood_ of Christ is only a metaphor,\nand means no more in the mouth of a Christian, than it might be\nsupposed to do in that of an honest heathen, who should say, That he\nhad been _saved_, or benefited in a moral way, by the _blood_, that\nis, the exemplary death, of Socrates!\u2014When we speak of its _washing_\naway sin, it is true, we use the term _washing_ metaphorically (for\n_sin_ is not literally washed): but the scriptures are unintelligible,\nand language itself has no meaning, if _the blood of the lamb slain_\nhad not a true, direct, and proper efficacy (considered in the literal\nsense of _blood_) in freeing us from the _guilt_ of sin, or, in other\nwords, from the _punishment_ of it.\n\n2. A SECOND conclusion may be drawn, more particularly, from the\nwords of the text\u2014_if I wash thee not, thou hast no part with me_.\nFor, if these words mean, as I have endeavoured to shew, and as, I\nthink, they must mean, that we are redeemed only by the _blood_ of\nChrist; and if, as the context seems to speak, it is in our power to\nforfeit this benefit, by refusing to be _washed_ by his blood, that\nis, to accept the deliverance, offered to us, _through faith in his\nblood_[89]: it follows, that there is something very alarming in the\ncondition of those persons, who hold out against all the calls of\nGrace, and obstinately persist in a state of infidelity. In vain have\nthey recourse to natural religion, or to any other supposed means of\npurification and salvation. In vain do they trust even to the moral\npart of the Gospel, while they reject or disbelieve the rest. They must\nbe washed by _Christ_, if they desire _to have any part with him_;\nthey must place their entire hope and confidence in the _blood_ of the\ncovenant, who would share in the blessings of it.\n\nNay, more than this: the Redeemer is _outraged_ by this refusal to\ncomply with the gracious terms of his salvation. And, though some may\nmake slight of _having no part with Christ_, it may concern them to\nreflect, what it is to _have a portion with unbelievers_[90].\n\n3. LASTLY, and above all, I conclude, that they, who are _washed_, and,\nin consequence of that washing, trust to _have a part with Christ_,\nas they can never be enough thankful for the inestimable benefit, they\nhave received, so they can never be enough careful to retain, and to\nimprove it. If we, who have once embraced the faith, revolt from it;\nor, while we make a shew of professing the faith, pollute ourselves\nagain with those sins, from which we have been cleansed; nay, if we\ndo not strive to purify our hearts and minds still more and more by\nthe continual efficacy of a lively faith in Jesus; if, in any of these\nways, we be in the number of those, _who draw back unto perdition_,\nwhat further sacrifice remains for us, or what hope have we in that,\nwhich has been already offered?\n\nJudas himself, be it remembered, was _washed_ among the other\nDisciples; yet he was not _clean_, for all that, nor had he _any part_\nwith Jesus. What can this mean, but that something is to be done, on\n_our_ part, when the Redeemer has done _his_? and that the permanent\neffect of this _washing_, as to any particular person, depends on his\ncare to keep those _robes white_, which have been _washed in the blood\nof the lamb_[91]?\n\nThe account, and the conclusion, of the whole matter, is plainly\nthis\u2014_If we say that we have fellowship with him, and walk in\ndarkness, we lie, and do not the truth: but, if we walk in the light,\nas he is in the light, then have we fellowship with him, and_ HIS BLOOD\nCLEANSETH US FROM ALL SIN[92].\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XI.\n\nPREACHED JUNE 20, 1773.\n\nMARK ix. 49.\n\n _For every one shall be salted with fire, and every sacrifice shall\n be salted with salt._\n\n\nThis is generally esteemed one of the most difficult passages in the\nfour Gospels. I confess, I take no pleasure in commenting on such\npassages, especially in this place; because the comment only serves,\nfor the most part, to gratify a learned curiosity, and is, otherwise,\nof small use.\n\nBut, when a difficult text of Scripture can be explained, and the\nsense, arising out of the explanation, is edifying and important, then\nit falls properly within our province to exert our best pains upon it.\n\nThis I take to be the case of the difficulty before us, which therefore\nI shall beg leave to make the subject of the present discourse.\n\nThere are TWO very different interpretations, of which the words are\ncapable: and they shall both of them be laid before you, that ye may\nadopt either as ye think fit; or even reject them both, if ye do not\nfind them sufficiently supported.\n\nTo enable you to go along with me in what follows, and to judge of\neither interpretation, whether it be reasonable or not, it is necessary\nto call your attention to the preceding verses of this chapter, to\nwhich the text refers, and by which it is introduced.\n\nOur blessed Lord (for the words, I am about to explain, are _his_) had\nbeen discoursing to his Disciples on _offences_, or _scandals_; that\nis, such instances of ill-conduct, such indulgences of any favourite\nand vicious inclination, as tended to obstruct the progress of the\nGospel, and were likely to prevent either themselves, or others, from\nembracing, or holding fast, the faith. Such offences, it was foreseen,\nwould come: _but woe to that man_ (as we read in the parallel passage\nof St. Matthew\u2019s Gospel) _by whom the offence cometh_[93].\n\nAnd, to give the greater effect to this salutary denunciation, our\nSaviour proceeds, in figurative, indeed, but very intelligible terms,\nto enforce the necessity of being on our guard against such _offences_,\nwhat pain soever it might cost us to subdue those passions, from which\nthey were ready to spring. No virtue of self-denial was too great to\nbe attempted in such a cause. A _hand_, a _foot_, an _eye_, were to be\n_cut off_, or _plucked out_; that is, inclinations, as necessary and\nas dear to us, as those members of the body, were to be suppressed or\nrejected by us, rather than the _woe_, denounced against the indulgence\nof them, be incurred. This woe is, that the offenders should be cast\ninto hell-fire, _where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not\nquenched_: and it is subjoined _three times_, in the same awful words,\nto so many instances of supposed criminal indulgence, in the case\nalledged; or rather, to one and the _same_ species of ill-conduct,\ndifferently modified, and, to make the greater impression upon us,\nrepresented under three distinct images. After the last repetition of\nit, the text immediately follows\u2014_for every one shall be salted with\nfire, and every sacrifice shall be salted with salt_.\n\nI. Now, taken in this connexion, the words _may_ clearly, and,\naccording to our ideas, of interpretation, most naturally _do_, admit\nthis sense; that the offenders, spoken of, shall be preserved entire\nto suffer the punishment threatened, though it might seem that they\nwould, in no long time, be totally destroyed by it: as if our Lord had\nexpressed himself thus\u2014\u201cI have repeated this woe three times, to shew\nyou the degree and duration of it, as well as the certainty of its\nexecution; _the worm shall not die_, that is, the sense of suffering\nshall continue, even in circumstances, which may seem proper and likely\nto put an end to it: for such, as are worthy to be cast into this fire,\nshall be _salted_, or preserved from wasting (salt being the known\nemblem of _incorruption_, and thence of _perpetuity_) by the very\nfire itself. And [you may easily conceive how this shall be, _for_]\n_every sacrifice_, the flesh of every animal to be offered up to God\nin your Jewish sacrifices, is kept sound and fit for use by being (as\nthe Law directs in that case) _salted with salt_. Just so, the _fire\nitself_ shall act on these victims of the divine justice: like _salt_,\nsprinkled on your legal victims, it shall preserve these offenders\nentire, and in a perpetual capacity of subsisting to that use, to which\nthey are destined.\u201d\n\nNow, if such be the sense of the words, they contain the fullest and\nmost decisive proof of that tremendous doctrine, _the eternity of\nfuture punishments_, which is any where to be met with in Scripture.\nFor the words, being given as a reason and explanation of the doctrine,\nare not susceptible of any vague interpretation, like the words\n_eternal_ or _everlasting_, in which it is usually expressed; but must\nnecessarily be understood, as implying and affirming the literal truth\nof the thing, for which they would account. And, this being supposed,\nyou see the use, the unspeakable importance, of this text, as addressed\nto all believers in Jesus. But,\n\nII. There is another sense, of which the text is capable: and, if you\nthink it not allowable to deduce a conclusion of such dreadful import\nfrom words of an ambiguous signification, you will incline perhaps (as\nit is natural for us to do) to this more favourable interpretation,\nwhich I am going to propose.\n\nI observed, that the text, as read in connexion with the preceding\nverse, is most naturally, according to our ideas of interpretation,\nto be understood, as I have already explained it. But, what is the\nmost _natural_, according to our modern rules and principles of\nconstruction, is not always the _true_, sense of passages in ancient\noriental writers (who did not affect our accuracy of connexion), and\nparticularly in the writers of the New Testament.\n\nTo give a remarkable instance in a discourse of our Lord himself. He\nhad prescribed to his disciples that form of prayer, which we know\nby the name of the _Lord\u2019s prayer_, consisting of several articles;\nthe last of which is\u2014_for thine is the kingdom, and the power and\nthe glory for ever_[94]. Now, to this concluding sentence of his\nprayer he immediately subjoins these words\u2014FOR _if we forgive men\ntheir trespasses, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you_. But,\nfrom the illative particle, _for_, according to our notions of exact\ncomposition, was to be expected a reason, or illustration, of the\n_immediately foregoing_ clause, the _doxology_, which shuts up this\nprayer: whereas, the words, which that particle introduces, have\nrespect to another and _remote_ clause in the same prayer, namely,\n_forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors_[95], and express the\nground and reason, only, of that petition.\n\nIn like manner, the illation expressed in the text\u2014FOR _every one\nshall be salted with fire, and every sacrifice shall be salted with\nsalt_\u2014may not be intended to respect the preceding words\u2014_where\nthe worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched_\u2014but something\nelse, which had been advanced in our Lord\u2019s discourse, though at some\ndistance from the text; and possibly, the general scope or _subject_\nof it. Consider, then, what that subject is. It is necessary, our Lord\ntells his disciples, for such as would escape the woes, threatened, and\napprove themselves faithful followers of him, to subdue or renounce\ntheir most favourite inclinations, by which they might be, at any time,\ntempted to _offend_, though the pain of this self-denial should be ever\nso grievous to them.\n\nTo reconcile their minds to this harsh doctrine, he may then be\nsupposed to resume that topic, and to _justify_ the advice, which,\nwith so much apparent severity, he had given them. And then we may\nconceive him to speak to this effect:\n\n\u201cI have said, you must not regard the _uneasiness_, which the conduct,\nI require of you, will probably occasion. For _every one_, that is,\nevery true Christian, _every one_ that is consecrated to my service,\nand would escape the punishment by _fire_, in the world to come, _shall\nbe salted with fire_, in the present world; that is, shall be tried\nwith sufferings of one kind or other, can only expect to be continued\nin a sound and uncorrupt state, by _afflictions_; which must search,\ncleanse, and purify your lives and minds, just as _fire_ does those\nbodies, which it refines, by consuming all the dross and refuse,\ncontained in them. The process may be violent, but the end is most\ndesirable, and even necessary. _And_, that it is so, ye may discern\nfrom the wisdom of your own Law, which requires that _every sacrifice_,\nfit to be offered up to God in the temple-service, _shall be salted\nwith salt_; that is, preserved from putrefaction, and even all\napproaches to it, by the application of that useful, though corroding\nsubstance. Now, the _fire_ of affliction shall be to your moral\nnatures, what _salt_ is to the animal. It may agitate and torment\nyour minds, but it shall eat all the principles of corruption out of\nthem, and so keep them clean and untainted; as is fit, considering the\nheavenly use that is to be made of them, it being your duty, and even\ninterest, to present them, as _a sacrifice acceptable and well pleasing\nto God_[96].\u201d\n\nIn this way, you see, the text is reasonably explained of _moral\ndiscipline_ in this world, not of future _punishment_. What may\nbe thought to occasion some little difficulty, or, at least,\nparticularity, in the mode of writing, is, that _one_ metaphor seems\nhere employed to explain _another_. But we should rather conceive of\nthe two metaphors, as employed, jointly and severally, to express this\nmoral sentiment\u2014\u2018That affliction contributes to preserve and improve\nour virtue.\u2019 The allusion to the effects of _salt_ was exceedingly\nobvious and natural in the mouth of a Jew, addressing himself to\nJews[97]. Not but it was common enough, too, in Gentile writers[98].\nAnd the other allusion to the effects of _fire_ (though the two figures\nare in a manner run together by speaking of the _subject_, to which\nthey are applied, as _salted_ with fire). This allusion, I say, to\n_fire_, is justified by the familiar use of it, in the sacred writings.\nFor thus we are told, _that fire must try every man\u2019s work_[99]\u2014that\n_our faith is tried, as gold by fire_[100]\u2014that _a fiery trial must\ntry us_[101]\u2014that, _as gold is tried in the fire_, so are _acceptable\nmen in the furnace of adversity_[102]\u2014and in other instances.\n\nOf _both_ these natural images, it may be affirmed, that they are not\nunusually applied to moral subjects: and, if we thus _apply_ them in\nthe text, the _use_ to ourselves, according to this interpretation, is\nconsiderable and even important; no less, than the seeing enforced,\nin the most lively manner, and by our Saviour himself, this great\nmoral and evangelical lesson\u2014_that the virtue of a good mind must\nbe maintained at whatever expence of trouble and self-denial_\u2014and\nfor this plain reason, because, though _no chastening for the present\nseem to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterward, it yieldeth\nthe peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them, which are exercised\nthereby_[103].\n\nAnd, that such is probably the true sense of the text, we have been\nconsidering, may further be concluded from the light it throws on the\nfollowing and last verse of this chapter; the meaning of which will now\nbe very plain and consequential, as may be shewn in few words.\n\nFor, having spoken of _Christian discipline_ under the name of _salt_,\nwhich _preserves_ what it searches, our Lord very naturally takes\nadvantage of this idea, and transfers the appellation to _Christian\nfaith_, which was necessary to support his followers under that\ndiscipline, and has this property, in common with _salt_, that it gives\nsoundness and incorruption to the subject on which it operates. _Salt_,\nsays he, _is good: but, if salt have lost its saltness, wherewith\nwill ye season it?_ That is, _faith in me_ (for by _salt_, you easily\nperceive, I now mean that faith, which is your true _seasoning_, and\ncan alone maintain your firmness and integrity under all trials; this\n_faith_, I say) is a salutary principle: but take notice, if you\nsuffer that principle, so active and efficacious, to decay and lose\nits virtue, there are no means left to retrieve it. Like _salt_, grown\ninsipid, it can never recover its former quality, but is for ever\nworthless and useless[104]. Therefore, adds he, take care to _have_,\nthat is, retain, this _salt_, this good seasoning of your Christian\nprinciples, _in yourselves_; which will preserve you incorrupt, as\nindividuals: and, as _salt_, from its necessary use at the table,\nis further an emblem of union and friendship, give proof of these\nprinciples in your intercourse with all Christians, so as to keep\n_peace one with another_; for, by this _seasoning_ of peace, ye will\nbest preserve yourselves entire, as _a body of men_, or society[105].\n\nWe see, then, that understanding this _fire_, with which _every one\nshall be salted_, of the fire of _affliction_ only, which, like\nsalt, is to try and preserve the moral integrity of all believers,\nand not of the _fire which dieth not_, and, according to the former\ninterpretation, was to preserve _offenders_ in a perpetual capacity\nof enduring future punishment; understanding, I say, this metaphor in\nthe former sense, we have an easy, elegant, and extremely useful sense\nin the words of the text: a sense, which perfectly agrees with what\nprecedes the text, and illustrates what follows it: whereas, in the\nother way of explaining these words, it will be difficult to shew their\ncoherence with the subsequent verse, though they admit an application\nto the foregoing.\n\nOn the whole, I leave it to yourselves to judge, which of the two\ninterpretations, now proposed to you, is the proper one. I know of\nno other, that so well deserves your notice, as these two: and, if\n_either_ of them be admissible, we have gained the satisfaction of\nunderstanding a very obscure passage of holy Scripture. But we have\ngained more, than this: for, whichever we prefer, a momentous inference\nmay be drawn from it. EITHER, we must resolve to stick close to our\nCHRISTIAN FAITH AND PRINCIPLES, as the only means of preserving our\nintegrity, and making us fit for the favour of God, to whatever trials\nof any kind they may expose us: OR, we shall have to reflect, what\nSUFFERING, terrible beyond imagination, is reserved for obstinately\nimpenitent and incorrigible sinners.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XII.\n\nPREACHED FEBRUARY 9, 1766.\n\nGAL. vi. 3.\n\n _If a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he\n deceiveth himself._\n\n\nThis is one of those many passages in the sacred writings, in which the\nsimplicity of the expression is apt to make us overlook the profound\nsense contained under it. Who doubts, it may be said, the truth of so\ngeneral an axiom, as this? and what information, worth treasuring up in\nthe memory, is conveyed by it?\n\nIn answer to such questions, as these, it may be observed, That the\ninspired writers are not singular in this practice; the moral wisdom\nof all nations, and, in particular, that of the ancient Pagan sages\n(whom these objectors, no doubt, reverence) being usually conveyed in\nsuch large and general aphorisms: and, further, that many good reasons\nmay be given for this mode of instruction.\n\nFIRST, _the necessity of the thing_, in times, when men have not been\naccustomed to refine on moral subjects: it is also _necessary_ in\nanother sense, in order to convey the rules of life in some reasonable\ncompass. Good sense in moral matters is but the experience of observing\nmen, the result of which must be given in compendious parcels or\ncollections; otherwise the memory is loaded too much; besides that\nneither the leisure, nor the talents of those, for whom these lessons\nare designed, will serve for nicer disquisitions.\n\nSECONDLY, if this _mode_ of teaching were not necessary, it would\nstill be preferable to any other for its _own proper dignity_. A\nphilosopher in the schools, or a divine in his closet, may deduce the\nlaws of morality with a minute exactness. But the authority of an\nApostle disdains this care, and awakens the consciences of men by some\n_general_ precept, by some large and _comprehensive_ observation. It\nbecomes the majesty of his character to deliver the principles of right\nconduct in _few and weighty words_: his precepts are _Laws_; and his\nobservations, _Oracles_: it is for others to speculate upon them with\ncuriosity, and draw them out into systems.\n\nTHIRDLY, sometimes the very address of a writer leads him to\n_generalize_ his observations. It is, when a more direct and pointed\nmanner would press too closely on the mind, and, by making the\napplication necessary, indispose us to conviction; whereas, when a\nreproof presents itself in this form, less offence is likely to be\ngiven by it, the application being left, in a good degree, to ourselves.\n\nThis last, we shall find, was the case of St. Paul in the text; in\nwhose behalf, therefore, we need not, in the present instance, plead\nthe _necessity_, the _convenience_, or the _dignity_ of this method of\ninstruction; though these reasons, we see, might, on other occasions,\nbe very justly alledged.\n\nFor, to come now to the aphorism in the text\u2014_If a man think himself\nto be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself_\u2014as trivial\nas this general truth may appear at first sight, we shall perceive,\nby turning to the context, that the inspired writer applies it with\ninfinite address to mortify the pride of some persons, against whom the\ntenour of his discourse is there directed. For certain false teachers,\nit seems, had very early crept into the churches of _Galatia_, who\narrogated a superior wisdom to themselves, and, on the credit of this\nclaim, presumed to impose the yoke of Jewish ordinances on the Gentile\nconverts: in direct opposition to the injunctions of the Apostle,\nwho had lately planted these churches; and in manifest violation of\nChristian charity, which forbad those grievous burthens to be laid on\nthe consciences of believers.\n\nOne natural feature in the character of these vain-glorious boasters,\nwas the contempt with which they treated the more infirm Christians,\nand the little consideration they had for such of their brethren as\nhappened to be _overtaken with any fault_. This proud, unchristian\ntemper he therefore takes upon him to correct\u2014_Brethren_, says he, _if\nany man be overtaken with a fault, you, that are spiritual, restore\nsuch a one in the spirit of meekness, considering thyself, lest thou\nalso be tempted: Bear ye one another\u2019s burdens, and so fulfil the law\nof Christ_. And then follows the observation of the text\u2014_for, if a\nman think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth\nhimself_: leaving the conceited Doctors and their admirers to apply\nthese general words, as they saw fit; but clearly enough pointing to\nsome persons among them, _who took themselves to be something_, and yet\nmiserably _deceived themselves_, in that, indeed, they _were nothing_.\nIn what respects their conduct shewed them to be so, he leaves to their\nown sagacity, quickened by the poignancy of this covert reproof, to\nfind out.\n\nSuch is the Apostle\u2019s _address_ in this divine admonition; and such the\n_force_ (the greater, _for_ the address) of the reprehension conveyed\nin it!\n\nBut now, what those RESPECTS are, in which these sufficient men\nshewed themselves _to be nothing_, though St. Paul thought it not fit\nto specify them to the _Galatians_, it may be _useful to us_, as it\ncertainly is left _free_ for us, to inquire.\n\nFIRST, then, their very _Conceit_ was a certain argument of their\n_Folly_. For, what surer indication of a weak and shallow man,\nthan his proneness to think highly of himself! Wise men understand\nthemselves at another rate. They are too conscious of their own\ninfirmities; they know their judgment to be too fallible, their\napprehension too slow, their knowledge too scanty, their wills\ntoo feeble, and their passions too strong, to give way to this\ninsolent exultation of heart, to indulge in this conceit of their\nown importance, and much less to form injurious comparisons between\nthemselves and others. They understand, that the only question is\nconcerning the different degrees of _weakness and imperfection_;\nand that, where the best come far short of what they should be, all\npretence of boasting is cut off.\n\nSECONDLY, these superior airs of importance were unsuitable to the\nnature of their religion, and shewed how little proficiency they had\nmade in it; BECAUSE, as _Christians_, whatever light and knowledge they\nlaid claim to, they must needs confess was not their own, but derived\nto them from above. All, these spiritual men could pretend to know\nof divine things, had been freely and solely revealed to them by the\nSpirit of God; a distinction, which ought indeed to fill their hearts\nwith gratitude, but could be no proper foundation of their pride or\nvain-glory. For, as the Apostle himself argues in another place, _Who\nmaketh thee to differ from another? And what hast thou, which thou\ndidst not receive? Now, if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory,\nas if thou hadst not received it[106]?_\n\nWhatever temptation, therefore, there might be to a poor vain heathen\nto pride himself in his pittance of knowledge or virtue, a CHRISTIAN\nshould, by the very principles of his religion, be more modest, and\nascribe his proficiency in either, not to himself, but to the indulgent\nfavour and good pleasure of God.\n\nTHIRDLY, these boasters betrayed themselves by the _fruits_, which this\nself-importance produced, namely, their contemptuous and unfeeling\ntreatment of their brethren under any instance of their weakness and\nfrailty. Such behaviour was doubly ridiculous: _first_, as it implied\nan ignorance of their own infirmity, and liableness to temptation; and,\n_then_, as it argued a total want of _Charity_, the most essential part\nof their religion, without which a man is _nothing_, whatever gifts and\ngraces of other kinds he may possess[107].\n\nFOURTHLY, whatever merit a man may possess, this fond complacency of\nmind can hardly fail to _deprive_ him of it. For this conceit of his\nown sufficiency puts him off his guard, and makes him more liable to\nfall into any _misconduct_, when, apprehending no danger to himself,\nhe employs no care; just as nothing is more fatal to an army, than a\nconfidence in its own strength, inducing a neglect of that watchfulness\nand discipline, by which alone its security can be maintained.\n\nThis sufficiency also leads to _ignorance_, as well as misconduct, by\ncutting off all hopes of further improvement. For he, that is proud of\nhis own knowledge, is not anxious to extend it; and, indeed, does not\neasily apprehend there is much room or occasion for his so doing. Now,\nfrom the moment a man stands still, and interrupts his intellectual,\nas well as moral course, by the known constitution of things, he\nnecessarily goes backward; and, for his just punishment, relapses fast\ninto that ignorance, in a freedom from which he had before placed his\nconfidence and triumph.\n\n_Lastly_, this presumptuous conceit is _belyed_ in the EVENT, I mean\nin the opinion of those very persons, to whom the vain man would\nwillingly recommend himself. For the natural effect of such presumption\nis, to excite the _contempt_ of the wise, and the _envy_ of the rest.\nMen of discernment easily penetrate the delusion, and, knowing how\nlittle reason there is for any man to pride himself in his knowledge\nor virtue, are provoked to entertain an ostentatious display of those\nqualities with that ridicule, it so well deserves: while the weaker\nsort always take themselves to be insulted by superior accomplishments;\nand rarely wait the just provocation of _vain-glory_ to malign and envy\nthose, to whom they belong.\n\nBut the misfortune does not stop here. Contempt and Envy are active\nand vigilant passions; they are quick at espying a weakness, and\nspare no pains to expose it: and where can this merciless inquisition\nend, but in the proud man\u2019s mortification to see his best faculties\nslighted, or traduced, and all his imperfections laid bare and exposed?\nSo good reason had the Apostle to warn the Galatian teachers against\n_vain-glory_, in the close of the preceding chapter\u2014_Let us_, says he,\n_not be vain-glorious, provoking one another, envying one another_; an\nexhortation which the _vain-glorious_ among them should have listened\nto, even for their own sakes.\n\nWe see, then, that, _in these several respects_, a man, who _takes\nhimself to be something_, in effect proves himself _to be nothing_. So\nfull of instruction is the plain unpretending aphorism in the text to\nthe persons concerned!\n\nThe Apostle adds\u2014that such a man DECEIVETH HIMSELF\u2014which must\nneeds be, and cannot want to be enlarged upon; since it appears in\nthe very instances, in which his _nothingness_ has been shewn. The\n_vain-glorious_ Christian is manifestly and notoriously deceived\nin _thinking himself something_\u2014while that very conceit shews the\ncontrary\u2014while it shews that he overlooks the very principles of his\nreligion\u2014while it proves him to be void of Christian charity, the\nvery end of the commandment\u2014while it betrays him into ignorance and\nfolly, and therefore tends to subvert the very foundation, on which his\n_vain-glory_ is raised\u2014while, lastly, in the event, it deprives him of\nthat very consideration to which he aspires.\n\n\u201cSUCH are the mischiefs of _Self-conceit_!\u201d a vice, which Reason\nuniversally condemns, but which our Christian profession renders most\ncontemptible and ridiculous. Even in the pursuits of _human_ Science,\nwhere Reason can do most, all the efforts of the ablest understanding\npenetrate but a little way. We know enough of _the nature of things_,\nto serve the purposes of common life; and enough of _the nature of\nman_, to discover our duty towards each other. And within this narrow\ncircle all our knowledge, be we as proud of it as we please, is\nconfined. Clouds and darkness cover the rest; and this the ablest men\nof all times have seen and confessed. If there be a man, whom Heaven\nhas formed with greater powers and stronger faculties than are commonly\nmet with in the species, he is the _first_ to discover, and to lament,\nhis own blindness and weakness: a Socrates and a Pascal have been\nconsidered as prodigies of parts and ingenuity; yet, while the meanest\nSophister is puffed up with the conceit of his own knowledge, these\ndivine men confess nothing so readily as their own ignorance.\n\nAnd, if this be the case of human learning, what must we think of\n_divine_? where Reason teaches nothing, beyond the existence and\nattributes of God, and, as to every thing else, without the aid of\n_Revelation_, is stark-blind. _The things of God knoweth no man but\nthe Spirit of God_\u2014is an assertion, to which common sense and common\nexperience must assent. Yet shall every idle Speculatist, who has but\nthe confidence to call himself a Philosopher, treat the _divine word_,\nas freely as any ordinary subject; and pronounce as peremptorily of the\n_revealed will of God_, which the Angels themselves adore in silence,\nas if he knew for certain that his poor and scanty understanding was\ncommensurate with _the councils of the most High_!\n\nTo these professors of Science, whether human or divine, who know so\nlittle of themselves as to presume they know every thing, may the\nApostle\u2019s aphorism be most fitly addressed\u2014_If a man think himself to\nbe something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself_;\u2014and, through\nall the simplicity of the expression, the good sense of the observation\nmust be felt by the proudest understanding.\n\nNot, that the proper remedy for this evil, of _Self-conceit_, is a vile\nsubjection of the understanding, which our holy Religion disdains,\nand to which none but slaves will submit\u2014nor yet Scepticism, another\nvice, to which the less sanguine disputers of this world are much\naddicted\u2014but a modest use of the faculties we possess, and above all,\n_charity_. It is but another species of _pride_, to pretend that we\nknow nothing; _Christian humility_ is best expressed in referring, what\nwe know, to the good of others. Without this reference, all our claims\nof superior wisdom are vain and delusive: for it is with _knowledge_,\nas with faith, unless it _work by charity_, it is nothing.\n\nTo return to the text, then, and to conclude.\n\nLet the ignominy of this _Self-delusion_ deter us, if nothing else can,\nfrom the unseemly arrogance, it so well exposes and condemns. And let\nus learn to revere the wisdom of the great Apostle, who, by couching\nso momentous an admonition in so plain terms, has taught us, That,\nas conceit and vain-glory terminate in shame and disappointment; so\nthe modesty of unpretending knowledge may be entitled to our highest\nesteem.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XIII.\n\nPREACHED MAY 16, 1773.\n\n2 COR. x. 12.\n\n _We dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves,\n with some that commend themselves: But they, measuring themselves\n by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not\n wise._\n\n\nI shall not inquire, _who_ the persons were, to whom these words\nare applied. It is enough, for the use I intend to make of them, to\nobserve, that they contain a censure of _some_ persons, \u201cwho, conscious\nof certain advantages, and too much taken up in the contemplation of\nthem, came to think better of themselves, and, consequently, worse\nof others, than they had reason to do; demonstrating, by this, their\npartiality (as the Apostle gently remonstrates), that _they were not\nwise_.\u201d\n\nBut this censure admits a more extensive application. _Measuring\nthemselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves_,\nwhole nations, and even ages, as well as individuals, are, sometimes,\nmisled in the estimate they make of their own worth; and never more\neasily, or remarkably, than when the object of their partial fondness\nis their proficiency in _knowledge_, and, above all, in _religious\nknowledge_: for nothing flatters the pride of human nature so much, as\nan idea of superiority in the exercise of its _best faculties_, on the\n_noblest subjects_.\n\nIt would be easy to illustrate this observation by _many_ examples,\nthat have occurred in the history of mankind. But ONE, only, will\nsufficiently employ your thoughts at this time; and that one (to make\nit the more interesting and useful) shall be taken from OURSELVES.\n\nThe improvements, that have been made, for two or three centuries\npast, in almost every art and science, seem to authorize the _present\nage_ to think with some respect, of itself. It accordingly exults\nin the idea of its own wisdom: and _this country_, in particular,\nwhich has contributed its full share to those improvements, may well\nbe thought as forward, as any other, to pay itself this tribute of\nself-esteem. It would not be strange, if it appeared, on inquiry, That\nsome _presumption_ had, in either case, been indulged; and had even\noperated, according to the _nature_ of presumption, to the prejudice\nof that claim, which, with so much confidence, has been set up. But\nI have now in view, only, _one effect_ of this presumption; I mean,\nthe complacency which many take in supposing, That the _present age_\nexcels equally in _sacred_ and _secular_ learning; and, with regard to\nourselves, That _our_ theological knowledge as much surpasses that of\nour forefathers at the Reformation, as _their_ knowledge did, the thick\nand gross ignorance of the monkish ages.\n\nIt concerns us, for more reasons than one, not to mistake in this\nmatter. The direct way to decide upon it, would, no doubt, be, To\ncompare the best modern writers, with the ablest of those among the\nReformers, on the subject of religion. But, till ye have the leisure\nor curiosity to make this comparison for yourselves, ye will pay some\nregard, it may be, to the following considerations; which, at least, I\nthink, make it questionable, whether _our_ claims, in particular (for\nthe inquiry shall, for the present, be confined to them), whether, I\nsay, _our_ pretensions to religious knowledge have not been carried too\nfar. And,\n\n1. One is tempted to ask, whether it be credible, that we of this age\nshould have much advantage over our Reformers, in respect of religious\nknowledge, when both had an opportunity of deriving it from the same\nsource? You will apprehend the meaning of this question, if you\nreflect, that our Reformers had not their religious system to fetch\nout of the dark rolls of ancient tradition, and much less to create,\nor fashion for themselves, out of their own proper stock of ingenuity\nand invention. Had such been their unhappy circumstances, there would\nbe reason enough to presume that their system was defective. For the\nfirst attempts towards perfection in any art, or science, will not bear\na comparison with those happier and more successful efforts, which a\nlength of time and continued application enable men to make. But the\ncase of those good men, we know, was wholly different. They had only\nto copy, or, rather, to inspect, a consummate model, made to their\nhands; I mean, the _sacred scriptures_, which lay open to them, as they\ndo to us; and, being taken by them, as we understand they were, for\ntheir _sole_ rule of faith, what should hinder them, when they _read_\nthose scriptures, from seeing as distinctly, as we do at this day,\nwhat the Gospel-terms of salvation are, and what _the erudition of a\nChristian man_ should be?\n\nDid the primitive Christians, a plain people, and taken, for the\nmost part, from the lowest ranks of life, did _they_ understand\ntheir religion, when it was proposed to them, so as to have no doubt\nconcerning its great and leading principles; nay, so as to be the\nstandard of orthodoxy to all succeeding ages of the Church? and shall\nwe think that the ablest Doctors at the Reformation, when they had once\nturned themselves to the study of the sacred volumes, could be at a\nloss about the contents of them?\n\n\u201cYes, it will, perhaps, be said; the primitive Christians had the\nadvantage of reading the scriptures in the languages in which they\nwere composed, or of hearing them explained, at least, by learned and\nwell-instructed teachers: whereas, at the Reformation, those languages\nwere understood by few, or none; and consequently, in those days, there\ncould be no persons sufficiently skilled in the sacred scriptures to\nascertain their true meaning.\u201d\n\nBut to this charge of ignorance you will easily reply, by asking,\n\n2. In the next place, whether it can consist with a _known fact_,\nnamely, That the revival of letters had preceded the Reformation\nevery-where, especially in England; and that the excellent persons who\ntook the lead in that work, were all of them, competently, and, some of\nthem, deeply, skilled in the learned languages?\n\nIndeed, in the nature of the thing, it is scarce possible, that the\nReformers should be so little versed, as the objection supposes, in the\noriginal scriptures. For, whether the _new learning_ as it was called,\nhad, or had not, been cultivated, _before_ the Reformation began, we\nmay be sure it would _then_ be cultivated with the utmost assiduity;\nboth, because it was a _new_ learning, that is, because the charms of\nnovelty would naturally engage many in the study of it; and, because\nno step could be taken in the Reformation, without some proficiency\nin _that_ learning. Now, if you consider, of what the human mind is\ncapable, when pushed on by two such active principles, as _learned\ncuriosity_, and _religious zeal_, you will conclude with yourselves,\neven without recurring to positive testimony, that the Reformers must\nneeds have made an acquaintance with the authentic text: _such_ an\nacquaintance, as would let them into a clear apprehension, at least,\nof those doctrines, which are the _elementary_, as we may say, or\nnecessary ingredients in the constitution of a truly Christian Church.\n\nIf you hesitate about coming to this conclusion, the reason, I suppose,\nis, that you consider the Reformers as just then emerging from the\ndarkness of Popery, and therefore so far blinded by the prejudices\nof _that_ church[108], or by their own[109] prejudices against it,\nas not to see distinctly, and at once, the true sense of Scripture,\nthough they might be competently skilled in the learned languages.\nAnd, possibly, there is some truth, as well as plausibility, in this\nsuggestion, as applied to the case of the foreign Protestant Churches,\nwhich were formed with too much haste, and in a time of too much heat,\nto be quite free from all such exceptions. But, then, you will call to\nmind,\n\n3. _Thirdly_, that the Reformation was not carried on with us in\na precipitate tumultuary manner, as it was, for the most part, on\nthe Continent. On the other hand, it advanced, under the eye of the\nmagistrate, by slow degrees; nay, it was, more than once, checked and\nkept back by him. Hence it came to pass, that there was time allowed\nfor taking the full benefit of all discoveries, made abroad; for\nstudying the chief points of controversy, with care; and for getting\nrid of such mistakes, as might arise from a hasty or passionate\ninterpretation of holy Scripture. In short, you will reflect, that,\nbetween the first contentions in Germany; on the account of Religion,\nand the first establishment of it in the Church of England, under\nElizabeth, there was the space of near half a century: a space,\nsufficient, you will think (especially, if the activity of those times\nbe considered) to admit all the _improvements of learning_, that were\nnecessary to those who had the charge of conducting the Reformation;\nand all the _deliberate circumspection_, with which it was fit that so\ngreat a work should be finally completed.\n\nIf it be said, \u201cthat the Reformers are convicted of ignorance in _one_\nimportant part of scriptural knowledge, that of _Toleration_, and\nthat therefore, possibly, they have erred in others;\u201d I reply, that\nthis subject had never been understood, from the first establishment\nof Christianity down to the \u00e6ra of the Reformation; and that the\nmistakes about it had, chiefly, arisen, not from a want of seeing what\nthe Scriptures had revealed, but of knowing how to reconcile the New\nTestament to the Old. If we are, now, able to do this, it is well.\nIn the mean time, let it be acknowledged, that no peculiar charge of\nignorance can be brought against the Reformers for misapprehending\na subject, not only difficult in itself, but perplexed with endless\nprejudices, and not yet, as appears, quite disentangled of them. After\nall, this doctrine of intolerance, though it unhappily affected the\n_personal conduct_ of our Reformers, has no place in the LITURGY and\nARTICLES of our Church.\n\nStill, perhaps, the main point, on which this question, concerning the\ncomparative skill of the two periods, in matters of religion, turns,\nis yet untouched; which is, that the amazing progress, confessedly\nmade, since the \u00e6ra of the Reformation, in all true _Philosophy_, must\nhave contributed very largely to the increase of _religious_ knowledge;\nand that so much light of science, as we now enjoy, must have served to\ngive us a clearer insight, than our benighted ancestors had, into the\n_revealed doctrines of_ Christianity.\n\nBut to this so flattering, and, at first view, not improbable,\nassumption, it may be replied,\n\n4. In the last place, That the doctrines in question, being _purely\nChristian_, that is, such as it pleased God to reveal to mankind\nconcerning his eternal purpose in Christ Jesus,\u2014that the doctrines, I\nsay, having this original, and being of this nature, have, possibly,\nno communication with the discoveries of later times: that, of the\ndivine councils, on such a subject, we could have known nothing, if the\nRevelation had been silent; and that all we _do_ know, when it speaks\nclearest, is only _what_ those councils are, not on what _grounds_ of\nreason they stand; whether it be, that such knowledge is unattainable\nby our faculties, or that it was seen to be improper for our situation:\nthat, to say the least, all the efforts of the ablest men to explain\nthe peculiar fundamental doctrines of our religion, on the principles\nof our philosophy, have not hitherto been so successful, as to make it\ncertain that these doctrines are indeed cognisable by human reason:\nthat possibly, therefore, those doctrines are the objects of _faith_,\nsimply, and not of knowledge; in other words, that they are no clearer\nto us at this day, than they were to those plainer men, who lived in\nthe sixteenth century[110].\n\nAnd now, if we recollect the substance of what has been said\u2014That\nour Reformers had only to consult the _Scriptures_ for a just idea of\nthe Christian Religion\u2014that they were likely enough to _understand_\nthose Scriptures, being invited, or rather impelled, to the study of\nthem, by the most active principles of human nature\u2014that they _could\nnot but_ understand those Scriptures in all the more important points\nof doctrine, which they had so much time and occasion to consider,\nand which there wanted no more than a common skill in the language\nof Scripture to understand\u2014and that, lastly, they could not have\nunderstood those points _better_, than they did, even with all our real\nor fancied skill in philosophy, because, in truth, philosophy is not\napplicable to those points, being matters of pure Revelation, and not\nsusceptible of any additional clearness from the exertion of our best\nfaculties, however improved:\u2014If these things, I say, are put together,\nwe shall conceive it possible for our Reformers to have acquired such\na knowledge, at least, of their religion, as not to deserve that\nutter contempt, with which, on a comparison with ourselves, they are,\nsometimes, treated.\n\nBut a single FACT will, perhaps, speak more conviction to you, than all\nthese general presumptive reasonings. When the question is, therefore,\nconcerning the degree of religious knowledge, which such men as Cranmer\nand Ridley possessed, let it be remembered, \u201cThat Erasmus (who lived\nand died before the English Reformation had made any considerable\nprogress, and the benefit of all whose light and knowledge those\nReformers, therefore, had) that this learned man, I say, had, in those\ndays, explained himself as reasonably, on almost every great topic of\nrevealed religion, as any writer has since done; or is now able to do.\u201d\n\nThis _fact_, however, does not imply, that the age of the Reformation\nwas equally enlightened with the present; or that the clearer light, we\nenjoy, is of no service to religion. Our improved CRITICISM has been\nof use in ascertaining the authority, and, sometimes, in clearing the\nsmaller difficulties, of the sacred text; and our improved PHILOSOPHY\nhas enabled many great men to set the evidences of revealed religion,\nin a juster and stronger light: but, with the _doctrines_ themselves,\nour improvements, of whatever kind, have no concern. Be our proficiency\nin human science what it may, those doctrines are the _same_ still.\nReason, under any degree of cultivation, may if we please to misapply\nit, perplex and corrupt our faith; but will never be able to see to\nthe bottom of those _judgments_, which are _unsearchable_, nor to clear\nup those _ways_, which are _past finding out_[111].\n\nTo conclude: I am not, now, making the panegyric of those venerable\nmen, to whom we are indebted for our religious establishment. They\nwere our inferiors, if you will, in many respects. But, if, _measuring\nourselves by ourselves, and comparing ourselves among ourselves_, we\noverlook their real abilities and qualifications; if we pronounce them\nignorant of _good letters_, because they lived in an age, which we have\nlearned to call barbarous; and ignorant of the _Christian religion_,\nbecause they were not practised in our philosophy; we, probably, do\nTHEM great injustice, and take, it may be, not the best method of doing\nhonour to OURSELVES.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XIV.\n\nPREACHED APRIL 27, 1766.\n\nSt. MARK, iv. 24.\n\n_Take heed what ye hear._\n\nOr, as the equivalent phrase is in\n\nSt. LUKE, viii. 18.\n\n_Take heed_ HOW _ye hear_.\n\n\nFaith, says the Apostle, _cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word\nof God_[112]. The assertion was strictly true in the early days of\nthe Gospel, before books were yet written and spread abroad for the\nedification of the Church. The inlet of faith was, then, the _ear_:\nthrough that organ only was conveyed, from the tongue of the preacher,\n_the word of God_. But the case is much the same at all times; even\n_now_, when books are enough multiplied, and perhaps more than enough,\nin the Christian world. For, it having pleased God, that a standing\nministry should be kept up for the instruction of mankind in _the\nfaith_, and a _woe_ being denounced against such, as have received\nthis commission, and yet _preach not the Gospel_[113], the _sole_ way\nby which _faith cometh_ to most men, and the _principal_, by which it\ncometh to almost all, is still that of _hearing_. It is still by the\n_word preached_, that men, in general, come to the faith of Christ, and\nare confirmed in the profession of it.\n\nOur Lord, then, foreseeing how much would depend on this faculty of\n_hearing_, and finding by experience how liable it was to be abused,\nthought fit to give his Disciples a particular, and what may almost\nseem a _new_, precept, for their conduct in this respect. The ancient\nmasters of rhetoric, and of morals, had frequently warned their\nscholars to take heed what _they speak_: but our Divine Master carries\nhis attention still farther; and while his ministers are required, _to\nspeak, as the oracles of God_, the people are very properly instructed\nby him, _to take heed what they hear_.\n\nNow, that this admonition may have its full effect, it will be proper\nto explain the reasons, on which it is founded; to lay before you the\nseveral considerations which shew of what infinite concern it is to\nthose, who _hear_ the word, to be _attentive_ in hearing.\n\nAnd it naturally occurs, as the\n\nI. FIRST reason for this attention, that what is spoken, is delivered\nto them, _as the word of God_.\n\nWhen a person in high place and authority thinks fit to honour us with\na message, though it be in a matter of no great importance, with what\nsubmission is it received! How diligently do we listen to it! How\ncircumspectly is every sentence, and even syllable, weighed! We do\nnot stand to make exceptions to the messenger, who may have nothing\nin his own _person_ to command our respect; we do not much consider\nthe _grace_ with which he delivers his message; we are not curious to\nobserve in what _choice_ or _elegant_ terms it is expressed. We are\nonly concerned to know, that the message has been faithfully related,\nand then a due regard is immediately paid to it. And shall God speak\nto us by the mouth of his ministers, in terms which himself dictates,\nand which we may verify, if we please, by comparing them with his own\n_written word_,\u2014shall, I say, the God of Heaven thus address himself\nto us, and we not _take heed what and how we hear_?\n\nOr, suppose the opinion of a man learned in any secular profession\nis reported to us, on a point which falls within his province, and\nof which it concerns us to form a right apprehension, Is not such\n_opinion_ received with respect by us, and studied with care?\n\nAnd shall our Divine Master be negligently _heared_, when he\ncondescends to instruct us in the way of life and salvation, a subject,\nof all others, the most interesting to us; a subject, which he alone\nperfectly understands, and concerning which he will not and cannot\nmislead us?\n\nStill further, besides the authority of the divine word, there is\nsomething in the _nature_ of it, which deserves, and, if we be not\nwholly insensible, must command our attention.\n\nFor shall a little superficial rhetorick be listened to with regard,\nperhaps with admiration? And shall not the heart-felt truths of the\nGospel warm and affect us? Shall a few spiritless periods, ranged\nin measure, and coloured with art, mere sound and paint, throw\nan assembly, sometimes, into joy or grief, or transport it with\nindignation? And can we lend a careless ear to the word of God, _which\nis quick and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing\neven to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and a discerner of the\nthoughts and intents of the heart_[114]?\n\nSuch is the attention due to the word of God, when _acknowledged_ under\nthat character. But\n\nII. A SECOND reason for _hearing_ with caution, is, that the hearers\nare required to judge for themselves whether what is delivered to them\nbe, _indeed_, the word of God. Without this care, impostures may be\nendless, and the effect of them fatal.\n\nWhen we give up ourselves with an implicit trust to others in mere\ntemporal concerns, the mischief, although considerable, may yet be\nchecked by experience; or, at most, as it respects this life only,\nis not conclusive and irreparable: but in matters of religion, if we\naccept _that_ as the word of God, and act upon it, which has no higher\nauthority than the word of fallible and presumptuous men, we may be led\ninto all the visions of fanaticism or superstition, and into all the\ncrimes which so naturally spring from both, to the loss of our future,\nas well as present happiness.\n\nIt pleased God, therefore, from the time that miracles ceased to be\nthe credentials of his ministers in the Christian Church, to secure\nthe faithful from these dangers by the guidance of the _written\nWord_; in which, besides _special rules_ there given for the trial\nof _the spirits, whether they are of God_, such _general principles_\nare delivered as may direct our judgment. And by the help of these,\ninterpreted by the _tenor_ of that word, and the _analogy_ of faith, we\nmay be secured from all deception or surprize.\n\nIt is true, all men cannot _apply_ these rules and principles, or not\nwith full knowledge and effect. Woe, therefore, be to him who abuses\nthe incapacity of such hearers, by obtruding on their easy belief his\nown fancies, as the doctrines of God! But to the abler hearers of the\nword, to all, indeed, who are competently instructed in their Religion,\nthe task is not difficult to avoid gross and dangerous delusions,\nto determine for themselves _whether the doctrine be of God_, or\nnot. This task, I say, is _not difficult_; yet it implies care and\ncircumspection; and the necessity of discharging it must be allowed a\ngood argument for _taking heed what we hear_.\n\nIII. A further reason for this diligence in _hearing_ is, That the\nhearers are expected and required _to profit by the word spoken_.\n\n_The word of wisdom and of knowledge is given to every man to profit\nwithal[115]._ It is not a curious problem, a fine lecture, a trial of\nwit, or play of ingenuity, calculated to entertain us for the time,\nand to be laid aside and forgotten by us again, when the occasion is\nover. The ministry of the word is of another kind, and destined to\nhigher purposes. It is an instrument of reproof, of exhortation, of\ninstruction in righteousness. _The sword of the spirit_ is put into\nthe hands of men for no ends of pageantry and amusement. The minister\nof God _bears it not in vain_. He is entrusted with it to smite the\nhearts of the wicked, to _pierce through the souls_ of unrighteous\nmen, and to flash conviction in the face of unbelievers. It is an\nordinance of God, by which he would humble the proud, and convert the\nobstinate; strengthen the weak, and confirm the wise, hearer. Whatever\nour condition, it is to be corrected or improved by the word of God;\nwhatever our necessities, they are to be relieved by it. But every\ngift of the spirit, as well as faith, _cometh by hearing_: and that\nnot in the instant, but by degrees; for the Gospel does not illuminate\nand sanctify men at once; but by successive improvements, according to\nthe care with which we listen to its admonitions, and the impression\nthey make upon us. Hence it concerns the hearer, that nothing be lost,\nand that _the good seed_ be not committed to the ground in vain. One\n_truth_ received, prepares the mind to entertain a second; that, a\nthird; and so on, till we become perfect in the knowledge of the\n_faith_. Our moral advances are made in the same manner: one good\nresolution begets another, which again produces succeeding ones, till,\nthrough several intervening states, we arrive, or almost arrive, at\nperfect _obedience_.\n\nAnd this consideration, indeed, seems to have been immediately present\nto our Lord, when he delivered the admonition in the text. For so he\ncomments upon, and enforces his own words\u2014_Take heed what ye hear_:\n[for] _with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you, and_ TO\nYOU THAT HEAR, SHALL MORE BE GIVEN: that is, plainly and certainly,\nyour proficiency in faith and virtue will depend upon the degree of\nattention ye pay to my word, and shall be proportioned to it; therefore\nit cannot be too strict and earnest. Nay, our Lord goes farther, and in\nhis jealousy, as it were, for the honour of the word spoken, threatens\nthe listless hearer, that he should not only not advance in religious\nqualifications, but that he should even lose those, which he already\npossessed. _For he that hath, to him shall be given_: AND HE THAT\nHATH NOT, FROM HIM SHALL BE TAKEN AWAY EVEN THAT HE HATH. And this\ndispensation of Providence, as severe as it may seem, is, I suppose,\nconfirmed by too certain experience, and is analogous to the rest of\nGod\u2019s moral government.\n\nIt is no slight matter then, _how we hear_. And let no idle prejudices\nprevent or mislead us. The preacher of the Gospel may, on various\npretences, be unacceptable to us. Still, the Gospel itself is not\n_his_, but God\u2019s; to which no _circumstance_ should indispose us. Nay,\nin spite of this indisposition, the _preacher_, if we resolve to hear,\nmay profit us. For it is not, I conceive, without example, that such as\ncome to amuse themselves with a stated discourse, or perhaps to censure\nthe discourser, have found their hearts touched by the quickening\npower of the word, and have returned with serious thoughts and better\nresolutions.\n\nThis, I say, is not too much to expect from the Gospel of Christ, and\nthe grace which attends it, since we find it recorded of a _Pagan\nmoralist_, that, when a young reveller came into his school, flushed\nwith wine, and (as the custom of such was) crowned with flowers,\nand therefore in no disposition, we may presume, to profit by his\ninstructions; the philosopher, however, chose his topics so well, and\npressed them on his gay disciple with such effect, as to send him away\nin a graver mood, and without his garland[116]. But,\n\nIV. The last and most important reason of all why we should give an\nattentive ear to the word of God, is, _That we shall finally be judged\nby it_.\n\nIf the Gospel had only proposed to instruct us in the knowledge of\nGod, that so we might speculate more ably on divine subjects; or, at\nmost, refer the knowledge we acquire to present use; though it could\nnot be denied that such purpose was an important one, yet, if it went\nno further, we might, if we could allow ourselves in such imprudence,\nmake light of this, as we do of so many other kinds of instruction.\nWe should be ignorant, indeed, and unaccomplished in a very sublime\nscience; but so we are of many others, and yet are contented to remain\nin that ignorance. We might conduct ourselves foolishly and perversely,\nand might suffer much inconvenience, and even misery, for want of\nacting on the principles of this science; but so we do, in many other\ninstances, for want of acting on the maxims of art and prudence in the\nmanagement of our common concerns, and yet we make a shift to satisfy\nourselves with our condition. But if the Gospel follow us into another\nworld; if this immortal volume must be laid open in the presence of\nmen and angels, and our eternal doom pronounced out of it, though we\nwould not obey, or so much as listen to its commands, when they were so\nearnestly, so repeatedly, in this life pressed upon us; if such be the\neffect of not _hearing_, how shall we excuse our indifference in this\nrespect, or what can support us under the consciousness of it?\n\nHear then the awful sentence of Christ himself, denounced in that\nGospel\u2014_He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath one\nthat judgeth him_; THE WORD _that I have spoken, the same shall judge\nhim at the last day_[117].\n\nGo now, ye careless hearers, ye despisers of the WORD, and justify to\nyourselves, if ye can, your neglect and scorn of it!\n\nWhen our Lord himself taught in the streets of Jerusalem, many a\n_supercilious_ Pharisee, we may suppose, passed by, without so much\nas stopping to hear what this divine teacher had to say to them:\nothers, if they gave attention to his words, were only gratifying an\nidle, perhaps a malignant curiosity; they sought occasion from what\nhe said to intrap him in his discourse, to accuse him to the rulers,\nor to vilify him in the eyes of the people. Again: when this same\ndoctrine was taught by the Apostle Paul in another proud city, as proud\nof its philosophic schools, as Jerusalem was of its temple, many a\ncontemptuous sophist, we may believe, disdained to listen, at all to\nthe _foolishness of preaching_; and of those few who did, _some_, we\nknow, _mocked_, while others negligently asked their companions, _What\nwould this babbler say_? But how will both these be astonished in the\nlast day to find themselves judged by that _word_ which they neglected,\nor contemned; by that word, which they would not _hear_, though it was\nbrought home to their doors, or which they rejected with scorn, when\nthey _did_ hear it!\n\nNor think, because neither Jesus nor Paul hath preached in person to\nus, that therefore our case is much different. Jesus and Paul still\nspeak in the ministers of the word: or, what if the speakers be widely\ndifferent, the _word_ is the same: _this treasure we_ still _have_,\nthough _in earthen vessels_[118]. Nay, in one respect, our guilt\nexceeds theirs. The Pharisees and Philosophers were, alike, ignorant\nand unbelieving. We profess _to know_, and _to believe_.\n\nLet US, then, _take heed what we hear_; lest our knowledge and belief\nadd terrors to that day, when _the neglected word_ shall sit in\njudgment upon us.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XV.\n\nPREACHED NOVEMBER 24, 1765.\n\nROM. xvi. 19.\n\n _I would have you wise unto that which is good, and simple\n concerning evil._\n\n\nOur blessed Lord had given it in charge to his followers to be _wise\nas serpents, and harmless as doves_[119]. And the Apostle explains and\nenforces this command of his Master, when he enjoins us in the words of\nthe text, To be _wise unto that which is good, and simple concerning\nevil_.\n\nI confine myself, at present, to the former part of the text, and shall\nenquire into the properties or characters of CHRISTIAN WISDOM.\n\nThis wisdom consists in the prosecution of what the Scriptures declare\nto be the true _end_ of man, and by such _means_ as they prescribe to\nus.\n\nThat _end_ is the SALVATION of our souls; and the _means_, which lead\nto it, are FAITH and OBEDIENCE. Thus far there can be no mistake.\nThe _wise Christian_ is he who is intent on securing his _eternal_\ninterest; and who, to that end, fortifies his mind with a firm belief\nof the _doctrines_, and conducts his life according to the _precepts_,\nof the Gospel.\n\nI. But PERFECT WISDOM, which consists in a strict attention to these\n_several_ particulars, and according to the true worth of _each_, is\nrarely the lot of human nature. And there are _two_ ways, in which we\nare most apt to forfeit our pretensions to it. ONE is, when our minds,\nwholly taken up with the ultimate _object_ of their hopes, neglect the\n_means_ which are appointed to bring them to it: The OTHER, when we\nrest in the intervening _means_ themselves, without a due regard to\nthat _final purpose_, for the sake of which they were appointed.\n\n1. The FORMER of these defects we may observe in those persons who,\nfrom a too warm and enthusiastic turn of thought, are for subliming\nall piety into the trances of mystic contemplation; as if _morality_\nand _faith_ scarce deserved their notice; and the _beatific vision_\nwere as well the _object_, as _end_ of the Christian life. Here the\nfault lies in an impatience to come at the _point_ we propose to\nourselves, without observing the proper _methods_ which are to put us\nin possession of it; and is much the same phrenzy as we should charge\non those _travellers_, who, being on their way towards a distant\ncountry, stop short in the contemplation of all the wonders they have\nheard reported of it, without pursuing their journey, or indeed without\ntaking one step towards it.\n\n2. The OTHER defect of wisdom is seen in those less sanguine, and, in\ntruth, lukewarm Christians, who do not, indeed, altogether neglect the\nsubservient duties of their profession, but, as not enough considering\nthe _prize of their high calling_, grow remiss in the exercise of them:\nin which they too much resemble those _same travellers_; who, when\ntaking the ordinary means of arriving at their journey\u2019s end, fall\ninto an idle way of loitering on the road, and use not that dispatch\nand diligence in their stages, which an earnest consideration of the\n_end_, they have in view, should naturally inspire.\n\nII. But this duty of Christian wisdom is further violated, when, with\na full respect to our final _hopes and expectations_, and a general\nintention to pursue them by the _means_ appointed in holy Scripture, we\ndo not, however, observe the _due bounds and measures_ of each; that\nis, when, of the _two_ appointed means of salvation, _a pure faith_,\nand _right practice_, we chose to ourselves a favourite, and incline\ntoo much to _one_, at the expence of the _other_. For,\n\n1. With regard to the distinct provinces of FAITH and MORALITY, we\nknow there are those, who, provided they are but sound and orthodox\nin their opinions, that they give an entire assent to the several\narticles of their creed, and submit their faith to the entire direction\nof Scripture, or perhaps of the church with which they communicate,\nsuppose the affair of _moral practice_ of much less importance; and\nconclude their devotion for this acceptable sacrifice of _a right\nfaith_ will excuse their making somewhat too free with the article\nof _obedience_. Such persons there have been and still are in all\nchurches; but we know _what_ sect of Christians is most deeply infected\nwith this error.\n\n2. On the contrary, they who have shaken off this bondage of\nsuperstition, and have observed the mischiefs which arise in abundance\nfrom this exclusive attachment to creeds and confessions, are very apt\nto run into the other extreme; and, because they find _morality_ to\nbe of eternal obligation, make the less account of _faith_ and right\nopinion. As the former excess is the peculiar disgrace of _Popery_,\nthis other has frequently been objected to _Protestantism_. _Both_\nare manifest violations of _Christian wisdom_; which, besides that\nit commands an equal reverence for the two tables of the divine law,\nshould further instruct us, _that as faith without works is vain_, so\n_good works_ themselves, unassisted and unsanctified by _faith_, are\neither not so perfect, or not so acceptable from us Christians, as\notherwise they might be. Not to observe, that as the articles of our\nholy faith may be founded on _reasons_, which we do not know; so the\nbelief or rejection of them may have _consequences_, which we cannot\nforesee.\n\nIII. And with this preparation, let us now descend to still more\nparticular reflexions on the duty which lies upon us to approve\nour _wisdom_ in the _public profession_ of that faith, and the\n_manifestation_ of that practice. _Christian wisdom_ requires an\nattentive regard to the main _end_ we have in view, and to the\n_methods_ by which we are instructed to obtain it. But still there\nis great room for discretion to shew itself in the _management and\npursuit_ of those methods. One _manner_ of doing the good, we are\nappointed to do, will be preferable to another. And it is a great\npart of Christian prudence to be ready and expert in discovering and\nacting upon that _preference_. This indeed is a large field; nor is it\npossible to enumerate all the cases which fall within this province\nof true wisdom. But to prescribe to _ourselves_ some plan, however\ndefective, we may consider, that, if a constant regard be had to\n_ourselves_, to our _own character and circumstances_, our virtues will\nthen be most GRACEFUL; if to the exigencies of the _times_ and _places_\nin which we live, most SEASONABLE; and, lastly, if to the _persons_,\n_conditions_, and _characters_ of other men, they will thus become most\nATTRACTIVE and EFFICACIOUS.\n\n1. It was a point the masters of ancient wisdom took a singular\npleasure to inculcate, and we find an equal stress laid upon it by the\nsacred writers, that a strict _decorum_ be observed in the exercise of\nour virtues; or, in other words, that the _good_ we do be that which\nis _fit_ and _decent_, considering our _circumstances and characters_.\nThus we find one set of duties more especially recommended to the\n_young_, another to the _aged_; some to _private_ persons, others to\nsuch as are in _place and authority_. Different _professions_ in life\nhave also different sets of offices belonging to them; or in such as\nare _common_ to all, propriety demands, that they be evidenced in\nvery different _manners_. The virtues we expect in the _poor man_,\nare humility, industry, and resignation. These too are virtues, from\nthe obligation of which no _rich man_ is exempted; but it would be\nstrangely _misbecoming_, if _he_ did not surpass the _other_ in acts of\ncharity and beneficence. And in respect of the same _common_ virtue,\nsuppose _charity_, what the _one_ would very commendably discharge by\nlittle acts of service and assiduity towards his distressed neighbour,\nmight require a very considerable expence of wealth or labour in the\n_other_. Nay, the several humours and dispositions of men will occasion\na difference, if not in the _matter_ of their duty, yet in the _way_ in\nwhich it will become them to express it. An eminent moralist, indeed,\ncarried this point of _decorum_ very far when he would justify so bad\nan action, as _suicide_, and which he owns he should have condemned in\nany other, from the singular turn of Cato\u2019s temper and virtue[120]. But\nthus much may be said with great truth: that an action, good in itself,\nmay come with a better grace from one man than another. A lesson of\ngood advice, for instance, might be requisite from the liveliest man\nto his friend; but it would have additional weight and propriety from\none of a graver disposition: and certainly what the _former_ could only\nhint with address, the _latter_ might be allowed to enforce with much\nearnestness and authority.\n\nIn short, if we study _ourselves_, and reflect what our _station_,\n_character_, or _nature_ is, we shall best discern what the virtues\nare, and in what manner to be expressed, which sit most properly and\n_gracefully_ upon us. And to give a diligent attention to these is no\nmean part of _moral wisdom_. But,\n\n2. We must look beyond ourselves; we must consider what the condition\nof the _times_, what the state of the _places_ in which we live, may\nrequire of us. I do not mean that religion is a matter of _policy_; or\nthat virtue is a mere _local_ consideration. But when the question\nis, how we may do the _most_ good by our religious or moral conduct,\na prudent accommodation of ourselves to time and place will be very\nnecessary[121]. The primitive Christians were not _wise unto that which\nis good_, when they provoked the cruelty of their enemies, and offered\nthemselves without cause to the racks and fires of persecution. Nor\nwould _they_ be less blameable, who, in a careless, prophane age, when\n_silence_ would be readily taken for _assent_: when, not to profess the\nfaith would be construed to renounce it, should, from a too scrupulous\nfear of giving offence, forbear to make an open confession of their\nreligion. The exigencies of _times_, we see, are very different. A\nwise man would have endeavoured to moderate the excessive zeal, which\nprevailed in the _former_ of these periods: he would apply himself to\nraise and quicken it, were he to find himself in the circumstances\ndescribed in the _latter_. Or, to explain myself by a case which may\nstill more nearly affect us. There was a _time_, when the religion of\nour country consisted too much in a zeal for unintelligible articles\nand superstitious ceremonies; when Popery had enslaved both mind and\nbody, had bent the _one_ to an implicit acquiescence in the doctrines\nof the Church, and burthened the _other_ with a constant unprofitable\nexercise of its worship. How then was the _wisdom_ of a good man to\nexpress itself in these circumstances? In dispelling, it will surely be\nsaid, the gloom of superstition; in asserting the great privileges of\nnatural reason, and in pressing the obligation and necessity of a good\nlife, as of more worth than all ceremonial observances.\n\nThis _was_ the service rendered by the best men of those days to true\nReligion; and _we_ have reason to bless and revere their memories\nfor it. But should the liberty into which we are called, degenerate\ninto licentiousness; should it ever be common for men, in the fear of\n_believing_ too much, not to believe what the Scriptures themselves\nplainly require of them; and from the apprehension of relapsing into\ntheir old superstitious practices, to give little or no regard to\nthe duties of external worship: should this at any time be the case,\nthose truly wise men, who laboured so profitably to check the _other_\nextreme, would certainly, in this different state of things, apply\nthemselves with equal earnestness to correct _this_. Not that their\nformer practice was not good in itself, but that, by a change in the\ndisposition of the times, it was now become less _seasonable_.\n\n3. We are, lastly, to have a regard to the _conditions_, _characters_,\nand _persons_ of those with whom we converse; this attention being\nespecially requisite to render our virtues _attractive and efficacious_.\n\nThe philosopher that took upon him to discourse on the science of war,\ndid not enough consider his own _character_. If he chose to do this in\nan age which wanted no such instructions, his conduct was certainly\n_unseasonable_. But when he presumed to instruct the greatest general\nand commander in the world, he deserved the censure which has disgraced\nhim with all posterity[122]. A decorum like this is required in our\nattempts to promote truth and virtue. To dictate in such matters to\npersons wiser than ourselves, or to persons, who by their stations and\ncharacters should, in all reason, be supposed wiser, is a manifest\nindiscretion, and can never be attended with any good consequences.\nWere _we_ ever so able to instruct, or were _they_ ever so much in want\nof instruction, _prudence_ would suggest a very different conduct. It\nwould recommend to us all the honest arts of insinuation and address;\nit would oblige us to watch the fittest seasons and opportunities;\nor, perhaps, to content ourselves with the silent admonition of a\ngood example. Or, were there nothing in the _rank and condition_ of\nthose we would work upon, to restrain us to this caution, we might\neven be required to shew a condescension to their very _prejudices\nand humours_. The errors of men may sometimes be removed by arguing\nwith them on their own mistaken principles; by allowing all that\ntruth and reason will warrant to their opinions; by putting the\nfairest construction upon their designs; by hinting objections to\ntheir wrong tenets, instead of fiercely declaiming against them;\nabove all, by testifying a sincere disposition to advance truth and\ngoodness, without any indirect views to our own interest. Or, were all\nother considerations out of the case, we could never be excused from\nproceeding in the way of gentleness and civility, from treating them\nwith due respect, and expressing the sincerest good-will to their\n_persons_. Be their _moral_ or _religious_ defects what they will, we\nshould hardly be _wise_; that is, we should take very improper methods\nof reclaiming them from _either_, if we reproved with bitterness,\nadvised with insolence, or condemned with passion. In all addresses to\nmistaken or bad men, where our purpose is to inform or amend them, the\ngentlest _applications_ are surely the best, because _these_ excite no\npassion to counteract their _virtue_.\n\nAnd now, at length, should it be asked who is that WISE CHRISTIAN\nwhom the text designs and recommends to our imitation, we are able to\nfurnish, at least, the outline of his character.\n\n\u201cHE is one who sets before him the great END and prize of his _high\ncalling_; who, in his progress through the various stages of _this_\nlife, keeps in constant view the immortal happiness which his religion\nholds out in prospect to him in _another_: who, in humble adoration\nof his God and Saviour, is content to wait the appointed season which\nis to crown his hopes and expectations; and, for the present, is\nsollicitous to _work out his salvation with fear_ and reverence, by\nan earnest application of his time and pains to those _subservient\nduties_, which are to qualify him for the enjoyment of Heaven; who\nsubjects all the towering conceits of his _understanding_, to the\n_doctrines_ of the Gospel, and the impetuous sallies of his _will_, to\nthe _precepts_ of it; who makes no audacious separation of what the\nwisdom of God hath joined together; but, whilst he adores the mysteries\nof his holy FAITH, walks on in the plain and humble path of moral\nOBEDIENCE. He is _one_, who thinks it not enough to rest in the mere\nMATTER of his duty, but performs it in such a MANNER as will render it\nmost exemplary and efficacious. He knows it to be a great precept of\nhis religion, to see, _that his good be not evil spoken of_. He would\nnot disgrace the _best_ cause in the world by the neglect of those\ndecencies, which, as he observes, have sometimes the strange power to\nrecommend the _worst_. The good he intends, therefore, is attempted in\nsuch a way, as is most BECOMING of himself; most SEASONABLE in respect\nof the opportunities which are offered to him; and most agreeable and\nPERSUASIVE to other men. In short, HE is one who, taking _Prudence_ for\nhis guide, and _Innocence_ for his companion, thinks himself secure in\nthese attendants; and therefore neglects no _decorum_, which the best\nphilosophy prescribes; no _art_, which the soundest policy suggests;\nand no _address_, which the politest manners recommend: and so, in the\nhigh emphatic sense of the words, approves himself a WISE MAN; _wise\nunto that which is good_, to all purposes in _this_ world, as well as\nin a _better_.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XVI.\n\nPREACHED DECEMBER 1, 1765.\n\nROM. xvi. 19.\n\n_I would have you wise unto that which is good, and simple concerning\nevil._\n\n\nIn considering the first part of this precept, I endeavoured to give\nsome general description of Religious or CHRISTIAN WISDOM; both in\nrespect of the END it has in view, and of the MEANS employed by it:\nI further exemplified some of those subordinate WAYS, in which the\nprudent application even of those _means_ is seen and expressed: And\nall this, for the sake of those sincere, but over-zealous persons, who\nare apt to think that _wisdom_ hath little to do in the prosecution of\nhonest and upright purposes.\n\nIt now remains to treat that other part of the text, which requires\nus to be INNOCENT, as well as _wise_, to be SIMPLE CONCERNING EVIL.\nAnd this, perhaps, will be thought the more important branch of the\nsubject. For, generally speaking, the ways of _wisdom_, when our\npurposes are the very best, are not only the most effectual, but\nthe safest and most convenient. So that _prudence_ is likely to be\na favourite virtue with us. But the case is different with regard\nto _simplicity concerning evil_; which is often found a hard and\ndisagreeable injunction; as it may happen to cross our passions and the\nmore immediate views of self-interest. So that this SIMPLICITY will\nsometimes seem, what the world is ready enough to call it, _folly_: and\ntherefore, for the credit of our _sense_, as well as virtue, we should\nbe well apprized of the worth and excellence of this Christian duty.\n\nThe virtue of SIMPLICITY consists, in general, in following the plain\ningenuous sense of the mind; in taking our measures according to the\ndictates of conscience, and acting, on all occasions, without reserve,\nduplicity, or self-imposture, up to our notions of obligation. It is\nthe office of WISDOM to see that our conscience be rightly informed:\nBut our INTEGRITY is shewn in doing that which conscience, be it\nerroneously informed or no, requires of us. It consists, in a word,\nin whatever we understand by an _honesty of nature_; in observing,\nuniversally, that which we believe to be _right_, and avoiding what we\nknow, or but suspect[123] to be _wrong_.\n\nThis _simplicity of mind_ may be almost said to be born with us. It is\nthe bias of nature on our young minds; and our earliest instructions,\nas well as the first efforts of reason, strengthen and confirm it. But\nthe impression lasts not long. We are scarcely entered into life, when\nwe begin to treat it as one of _those childish things_, which it is\nbeneath the dignity of our riper age to be amused with. The passions\nput forth and grow luxuriant; and why, we say to ourselves, should this\ntender apprehension of evil check their growth, and restrain their\nactivity? We are now in the season of _pleasure_; and can there be any\nhurt in taking a little of it, out of that narrow path, which our early\nprejudices have prescribed to us?\n\nStill, as we advance in years, fresh objects arise, and other passions\nengage us in the pursuit of them. Wealth and honour, or what we\nimproperly call our _interests_, have now an ascendant over us; and\nthe passion for each is rarely gratified but at the expence of some\nvirtue. And thus it comes to pass, that, though we set out in the world\nwith a warm sense of truth and honour, experience by degrees refines\nus out of these principles; and our hearts, instead of retaining that\n_infant_ purity, the grace and ornament of our nature, and which Christ\nso especially requires[124] in the professors of his religion, are\nall over stained with fraud, dissimulation, and disingenuity. We are\neven proud of the acquisition, and call it a _knowledge of life_: so\ndextrous are we in giving a good name to our worst qualities!\n\nBut effects follow their causes; and the vice we are now considering is\nnot the less operative, nor the less hurtful, for the specious terms\nin which we dress it up, and present it to each other.\n\nOf its malignity I shall give two or three instances; and, to fit them\nthe better for use, they shall be taken from very different quarters;\nfrom the _cabinets of the wise, and the schools of the learned_, as\nwell as from the _vulgar haunts of careless and licentious men_. We\nshall learn, perhaps, to reverence the Apostle\u2019s advice, when we find\nthat the neglect of it has DEGRADED RELIGION; RELAXED MORALITY, and\nPOLLUTED COMMON LIFE.\n\nTo begin with an instance which shews how dangerous it is to depart\nfrom this _simplicity concerning evil_, in the great concerns of\nRELIGION.\n\nI. When the priest, the sage, and the politician joined together in\nthe days of heathenism to propagate among the people a superstition,\nwhich themselves condemned and detested; when they did their utmost\nto support a senseless, an immoral, an irreligious worship; when they\nstrove, by every seducing artifice, to keep up that strong delusion,\nwhich God, in his just indignation, had sent among them, to believe a\n_lye_, (for such in its whole fabric and constitution was the old Pagan\nidolatry) when these men, who _knew the truth_, were yet contented _to\nhold it in unrighteousness_; they believed, no doubt, nay, they made\nno scruple to boast, that they had acted with consummate prudence; and\nthat, in sacrificing the interests of religious truth (a small matter\nin their estimation) they had most effectually provided for the public\ninterest. But what sentence does the Scripture pass on these men of\nancient and renowned wisdom? Why this severe and mortifying one, That\n_professing themselves wise, they became fools_. And how well they\ndeserved this censure, we understand from their own history; where we\nread, That Pagan idolatry, thus countenanced and supported, teemed\nwith all the vices, of which our depraved nature is capable; and that\nthe several contrivances of its wise advocates to keep an impious\nand barefaced falshood in credit, served only to produce, _first_,\na SUSPICION, and in the _end_, an open and avowed CONTEMPT, of all\nReligion.\n\nHowever, the ends of _divine wisdom_ were greatly promoted by this\nsad experience of _human folly_. For Christianity, which made its\nappearance at this juncture, found it an easier task to establish\nitself on the ruins of a fallen, or falling superstition. _Truth_,\nwhich had for so long a time been anxiously kept out of sight, was now\nthe more welcome to those, who wished her appearance. And the detection\nof those prophane arts, which had been so manifestly employed in that\nservice, disposed the most perverse or careless the more easily to\nreconcile themselves to her.\n\nAnd it would have been happy if the sense of this advantage, which the\n_simplicity of truth_ obtained, in the first pages of the Gospel, over\nall the frauds of imposture, had prevented Christians from copying\nafterwards what they had so successfully contended against and exposed.\nThen had a great dishonour of the Christian name been avoided. But that\n_truth_, whose virtues are here magnified, must not be dissembled.\nThe practice of _lying_ for the cause of God, too soon revived, and\nbecame too frequent in the Christian world. It is in vain to think of\ndiverting your minds, more especially, from that great part of it,\nwhich has long since forgotten to be _simple concerning evil_. But\ntrue _wisdom will ever be justified of her children_. These dishonest\narts, which could not support a bad cause, have been injurious and\ndisgraceful to the _best_. They have corrupted the ingenuous spirit of\nthe Gospel, they have adulterated the sincere word of God; and, in both\nways, have produced innumerable mischiefs, in civil and religious life.\nThey have helped to bring into discredit or disuse a true _Christian\ntemper_; and have unhappily created in the minds of many an undeserved\nprejudice against the _Christian faith_.\n\nII. But if these men have dishonoured _Religion_, others have defiled\nMORALITY; yet both assume to themselves the title of _wise_ men; and\nfor that very reason, because they have departed as far as possible\nfrom the virtue of _simplicity_.\n\nAnd here your indignation cannot but rise more especially against a\nset of men, who, applying the subtleties of school-philosophy to the\nplain science of Ethics, have made as free with the _precepts_ of the\nGospel, as some others had done with its _doctrines_. These men, under\nthe respectable name of CASUISTS, have presumed to wind up, or let down\nthe obligation of moral duties to what pitch they please. Such as have\ntaken the STRICTER side, deserve but small thanks for perplexing the\nminds of good men with needless scruples; and discouraging the rest\nwith those austerities, which our Religion no where commands, and the\ncondition of human life will not admit. But for that _looser_ sort,\nwho by a thousand studied evasions, qualifications, and distinctions,\ndissolve the force of every moral precept; and, as the Pharisees of\nold, _make the word of God of none effect_ by their impious glosses,\nI know not what term of reproach you will think bitter enough for\n_them_. The sacred writers thought it sufficient to deliver the rules\nof life in _general_ terms[125]; leaving it, as they well might, to\ncommon sense and common honesty, to make the application of them to\n_particular_ cases, as they chanced to arise. But this officious\nsophistry intervening and perverting the ingenuous sense of the mind,\ninstructs us how to transgress them all with impunity, and even\ninnocence. By the help of this magic, we may extract the sting of guilt\nfrom every known sin; and, if we have but wit enough, may be as wicked\nas we please with a safe conscience.\n\nIf the features of this corrupt casuistry have not been overcharged;\nor, indeed, if there be any such thing in the world as a corrupt\ncasuistry, it may concern us to reflect, that this pest of society\ncould not have arisen but from a contempt of the Apostle\u2019s rule, _of\nbeing simple concerning evil_.\n\nIII. Hitherto we have exemplified the breach of this rule in the\n_learned_, and the _wise_. And it may be thought that nothing but\nperverted science could qualify men for so prodigious a depravity.\nBut there is a casuistry of _the heart_, as well as head; and we find\nby woeful experience, that men may refine themselves out of that\n_simplicity_ which the Gospel enjoins, without the assistance of\n_unblessed knowledge_.\n\nFor I come now, in the last place, to instance in the vulgar tribes\nof _libertine and careless men_. Of whom we may observe, that when\nindulged passion has taught them to make light of an honest mind;\nthe consequence is, that they run into all excesses, and are rarely\nhindered from _working all uncleanness with greediness_. It is true,\nindeed, that no man becomes at once desperately and irretrievably\nwicked. But it is not less true, that when this great step is taken\nof prevaricating with a man\u2019s own conscience, the other stages of\niniquity are presently passed over. And how indeed can it be otherwise?\nSo long as a man preserves the integrity of his natural disposition,\nthere is always hope that, though particular passions may prevail for\na time, reason and virtue will, in the end, regain their dominion\nover him. At least, he will be constantly checked and kept back in\nthe career of his vices. But when this sincerity of heart is lost;\nwhen he confounds the differences of right and wrong, palliating the\ndeformities of vice, or bestowing on vice itself the attractions of\nvirtue; then all reasonable expectation of a return is cut off; since\nthis perverted ingenuity tends to make him easy under his sins, and\nleaves him at leisure to pursue his evil courses with security.\n\nWe see then from the excesses into which these different sorts of men\nhave been led, by the refinements of POLICY, of ABUSED SCIENCE, and\nDELUSIVE PASSION, how dangerous it is to bid adieu to that _simplicity\nconcerning evil_, which the Holy Apostle requires of us.\n\nIt remains, that we cannot provide too cautiously against those evasive\nPLEAS AND PRETENCES, which would incline us to part with it.\n\nThese PRETENCES are infinite: for, when the _heart_ is corrupted, the\n_understanding_ is ready to pander to every lust that importunes it.\nBut we may know the principal of them by these signs. To be _simple\nconcerning evil_ is the easiest thing in the world; but we may suspect\nthat something _wrong_ is ready to intrude itself, \u201cWHEN we cast about\nfor excuses to cover the nakedness of ingenuity; when we are driven\nto distinctions and far-fetched reasoning for our justification;\nwhen we pause a moment between the clear conviction of duty, on one\nhand, and any indirect views on the other; more _particularly_, WHEN\nwe find the tone of our virtue relax at the consideration of what we\nmay chance to lose by adhering to it; when we but suspect, that a\nsevere unqualifying virtue looks like inhumanity; when we think our\ndependencies and connexions in life have a demand upon conscience;\nwhen we lament with the politician, that _good men are impracticable_,\nand so, from a principle of public spirit, resolve not to encounter\nthat prejudice: Above all, when we go about to regulate morality by\nwhat _a knowledge of the world_ teaches; when _custom_ is pleaded in\nopposition to _duty_, and vice itself authorized by _fashion_[126];\nwhen we acknowledge what we do is in itself not justifiable, but excuse\nit by a pretence of the good ends we hope to serve by it; when we are\nwilling to plead the infirmity of nature, the power of temptation, the\nprevalence of example; when we venture too securely on the confines of\nimmorality, and are curious to know how near we may go to vice, without\nbeing directly vicious.\u201d\n\nThese, and such as these, are the dangerous insinuations which attempt\nour virtue. And how, you will ask, shall we secure ourselves from them?\nBy reason and argument? By speculation and philosophy? Shall we stay to\nexamine their several pretences, call these delusive pleas to account,\nand shew we can confute them all, before we reject them?\n\nAlas, I dare not advise this method; which besides its other\ninconveniencies, is not, I doubt, a very safe one. Our heads may be\nunequal to the task; or, which is worse, our hearts may betray us.\nAt the best, we shall waste much time in these ingenious inquiries,\nwhen the business of life demands an immediate determination. St.\nPaul has shewn us a shorter and _more excellent way_, when he bids us,\n_Be simple concerning evil_. In virtue of this sacred admonition, a\nwise man will think it sufficient to dismiss these vain insinuations\nat once, without so much as spending a thought upon them. \u201cWhat,\u201d\nhe will say to himself, \u201cif I cannot detect the falsehood of these\npleas, I have a _heart_, that revolts against them. I cannot, perhaps,\ndisentangle the sophistry of these arguments; but I _feel_ the baseness\nof the conclusion, and I _see_ in others the folly of acting upon it.\nIt were ill with _vice_ indeed, if it had no false colours to appear\nin; and _error_ would be hooted out of the world, if she did not hide\nher obliquities under the garb of reason. But what are these disguises\nto me, who am neither dazzled by the one, nor duped by the other? Let\nthe curious, if they will, inquire, wherein the imposture consists:\nI have that within me, which tells me in a moment, they are but\nimpostures. In vain then, will such a one conclude, are these insidious\nattempts on me, who take a sure refuge in the word of God, and the\nintegrity of my own virtue. Be the pretences what they will, the\nconfutation of them is no part of a Christian\u2019s care. I may exercise my\nunderstanding profitably in other matters. It is my duty to consider\nmuch of the ways of _doing good_. I may be prudent and WISE here. But,\nEXPERIENCE, and CONSCIENCE, and RELIGION, command me to be, SIMPLE\nCONCERNING EVIL.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XVII.\n\nPREACHED NOVEMBER 22, 1772.\n\nJOHN v. 44.\n\n _How can ye believe, which receive honour one of another, and seek\n not the honour that cometh of God only?_\n\n\nIt has been thought unfair to charge unbelief, simply and\nindiscriminately, on the grosser passions. The observation, I believe,\nis just: and yet it may be true, notwithstanding, that unbelief is\nalways owing to _some or other_ of the passions. The evidences of\nrevealed religion are so numerous, and upon the whole so convincing,\nthat one cannot easily conceive how a reasonable man should reject\nthem all, without the intervention of some secret prejudice, or\npredominant affection.\n\nOf these _prejudices and affections_, one of the commonest, and the\nmost seducing of any to the better sort of unbelievers, is that\nirregular love of _praise and reputation_, which our Lord condemns in\nthe text\u2014_How can ye believe, which receive honour one of another, and\nseek not the honour that cometh from God only?_\n\nThe question, we may observe, is so expressed, as if we _could not_\nreceive honour from one another, and believe, at the same time; as\nif there was a physical, at least a moral impossibility, that these\ntwo things should subsist together. And we shall find, perhaps, the\nexpression no stronger than the occasion required, if, besides other\nconsiderations, we attend to the following; which shew how inconsistent\na true practical faith in the Gospel is with the sollicitous and\nundistinguishing pursuit of human glory.\n\nFor, I. _The Gospel_ delivers many of its doctrines as inscrutable, and\nsilences the busy curiosity of our understandings about them: but the\n_honour of men_ is frequently obtained by indulging this curiosity, and\npushing the researches of reason into those forbidden quarters.\n\nII. _The Gospel_ demands an humble and reverential awe in the\ndiscussion of all its doctrines; such of them, I mean, as it leaves\nmost free to human inquiry: but this turn of mind is contrary to that\nhigh courage and daring intrepidity, which the _world_ expects in those\nwho are candidates for its honour.\n\nIII. _The Gospel_ prescribes an uniform and unqualified assent to\nwhatever it declares of divine things, whether we can or cannot\napprehend the reason of such declaration: but this submission to\nauthority, the _world_ is ready to call ill-faith, and to consider the\ndefiance of it, as a mark of superior honesty and virtue.\n\nThus we see, that WIT, COURAGE, and PROBITY, the three great qualities\nwe most respect in ourselves, and for which we receive the highest\nhonour from each other, appear many times to the world with less\nadvantage in the Christian, than the unbeliever. Not, that Christianity\nstrips us of these virtues: on the other hand, it requires and\npromotes them all, in the proper sense of the words; and they may\nreally subsist in a higher degree in the _believer_, than any other:\nbut they will often seem to be more triumphantly displayed by those\nwho give themselves leave to _disbelieve_; and the prospect of honour,\nwhich that opinion opens to such men, is one of the commonest sources\nfrom which they derive their infidelity.\n\nBut to make good this charge against the unbelieving world, and to lay\nopen the mysteries of that insidious self-love, which prompts them to\naspire to _fame_, by the means of infidelity, it will be necessary to\nresume the THREE TOPICS before mentioned, and to enlarge something upon\neach of them.\n\nI. FIRST, then, I say, That He, who at all adventures resolves to\nobtain the honour of men, _cannot believe_, because the unrestrained\nexercise of his WIT, by which he would acquire that honour, is\ninconsistent with the genius and principles of our religion.\n\nThe fundamental articles of the Gospel are proposed to us, as objects\nof faith, not as subjects of inquiry. As they proceed from the source\nof light and truth, they are founded, no doubt, in the highest reason;\nbut they are for the most part, at least in many respects, inscrutable\nto our reason. It is enough that we see cause to admit the revelation\nitself, upon the evidences given of it: it is not necessary that we\nshould carry our researches any farther. It is not safe, or decent,\nor practicable, in many cases, to do it. The just and sober reasoner\nis careful to proceed on clear and distinct ideas, and to stop where\nthese fail him. But how soon does he arrive at this point? For the\nsublime genius of Christianity reminds him, at almost every step, how\nimpossible it is, with the scanty line of human reason, to fathom\nthe _deep things of God_; and represses the sallies of his wit and\nfancy, with this reflexion\u2014_how unsearchable are his judgments, and\nhis ways past finding out!_ In a word, where he finds the subject too\nobscure for his understanding to penetrate, or too vast for his ideas\nto comprehend (and he presently finds this, when he attempts to reason\non the mysteries of the Christian faith) he checks his inquiries, he\nbelieves, and adores in silence.\n\nBut now this silence, this adoration, is ill suited to the restless\nambition of the human mind, when it aspires to the reputation of\nprofound and extensive knowledge. The vain reasoner would signalize\nhimself on all subjects, the most abstruse and mysterious, in\npreference to others; and fears not to carry his presumptuous inquiries\nto the seat and throne of God. He questions the revealed truths\nof the Gospel as freely as any other; and finding them many times\ninexplicable by the principles of human science, he triumphs in the\ndiscovery, applauds his own reach of thought, and dazzles the world\ninto a high opinion of his wit and parts. The truth is, he decides\non subjects, which he does not, and cannot understand: but the world\nsees, he decides upon them; and that is generally enough to attract its\nadmiration and esteem.\n\nAgain: In such parts of revealed Religion, as lie more within the\ncognizance of human reason, an inquirer may find difficulties, and\nstart objections, which the best instructed believer either does not\nattempt, or is not able to resolve. Here, the triumph of wit over\nfaith is thought conspicuous, and is indeed seducing. For, while the\nbeliever has only to confess his own ignorance, the infidel shines in\nexposing and inforcing those difficulties and objections: And, when the\ningenuity is all on one side, it is rarely suspected, that reason and\ngood sense may be, with modesty, on the other.\n\nNay, where the point in question can be effectually cleared up,\nstill their will generally seem to be more acuteness in discovering\na difficulty, than in removing it: And thus the subtle caviller in\nreligious controversy shall have the fortune to pass for a shrewder\nman, than the ablest apologist.\n\nAnd that this advantage of reputation is, indeed, that which free and\nlibertine reasoners propose to themselves, you will see by calling to\nmind the sort of subjects, which they are fondest to treat, and the\nsort of character, which they are most proud to assume.\n\nIn natural religion, the origin of evil, and God\u2019s moral government,\nare their favourite topics: in revealed religion, the fall of human\nnature, its restoration by the death and sufferings of Christ, the\nincarnation of the Son of God, and the adorable Trinity. But why are\nthese high subjects picked out to exercise their speculations upon?\nsubjects, in which the sublimest understanding is absorbed and lost;\nsubjects, which they well know (for I speak of the abler men in that\nparty) we have no faculties to comprehend. Why, then, are these\nsubjects preferred to all others? For an obvious cause: to shew how\ningenious they can be in perplexing human reason, if any believer\nshould be indiscreet enough to subject these mysterious truths to that\ntest.\n\nBut the character, they assume, declares their purpose no less than the\narguments they delight to treat. For their pride is to affect a sort\nof pyrrhonism, or universal doubt and hesitation, even on the plainest\npoints of morals; to controvert the most received principles and\nopinions; and, as the sophists of old, _to make the worse appear the\nbetter reason_, in all questions which they undertake to discuss. Would\nyou desire a stronger proof of the principle which actuates such men?\n\nII. It appears, then, how the ostentation _of wit_ leads to infidelity.\nThe affectation of COURAGE is another snare to those, who lie in wait\nfor the honour of men.\n\nThe believer, it has been observed, presumes not to reason at all on\nsome points of his Religion. In others, he is left at liberty; yet on\nthese, he reasons, always with great reverence and circumspection.\nNow, though this conduct be highly fit and proper, it is not so likely\nto strike the observation of men, as a more forward and enterprizing\nbehaviour. Not only his understanding is restrained, but his spirit,\nthey say, is cramped and broken. The inconsiderate world, on the other\nhand, is taken with bold assertions, and hazardous positions; which\nit easily construes into a mark of high courage, as well as capacity.\nA fearless turn of mind is a dazzling quality, and we do not always\ndistinguish between intrepidity and temerity. Thus it comes to pass,\nthat as the Christian\u2019s love of peace and charity in common life,\nso his cautious respect in religious matters, has been treated by\nlibertine men, as pusillanimity. He is considered, in the fashionable\nworld, as a tame and spiritless man; and in the learned world, as a\ntame and spiritless reasoner.\n\nHence, when we are bent, at any rate, upon _receiving honour one of\nanother_, we are tempted to make a display, not of our wit only, but\nour courage: And, as nothing is thought a surer indication of this\nquality, than to make light of that which the rest of the world hold\nsacred, we easily see how a passion for this sort of fame betrays the\nunbalanced mind into all the extravagancies of infidelity.\n\nThe instances are frequent, and well-known. When the Philosopher of\nMalmsbury, in the last century, took upon him to resolve all morality\nand all religion into the will of the magistrate, whatever other end he\nmight have in view, the bold singularity of this paradox was, no doubt,\nthat which chiefly recommended it to himself, as well as surprized the\nworld into an opinion of his bravery: though we know, from his story,\nthat, in fact, he had no more of this virtue, than might well have\nconsisted with faith, and the fear of God. But vain man oft affects to\nmake a shew of that which he does not possess: and thus his defect in\ntrue courage, may be the true account of his pretending to so much of\nit.\n\nStill, the heart of man is more deceitful, than we have hitherto seen,\nor can easily believe: For who,\n\nIII. In the last place, would suspect, that an admiration of INTEGRITY\nitself, as well as of _wit_ and _courage_, should seduce the unwary\nmind into irreligion? Yet so it is, that men, intoxicated with the love\nof fame, will sacrifice any virtue, the best quality they have, to the\nreputation of it.\n\nThe true believer admits, with a full and perfect assent, whatever\nhe takes to be clearly revealed in the Gospel; the most impenetrable\narticle of his creed, as well as the simplest proposition in morals.\nAll stands with him on the same equal footing of divine authority: no\nmatter, whether he can, or cannot, perceive the grounds of reason, on\nwhich the Revelation is founded.\n\nBut now this facility of belief, this entire resignation of the\nunderstanding to the dictates of Heaven, the world is ready to suspect,\nof disingenuity. And they who live only in the opinion of that world,\nwould not be exposed to so dishonourable a suspicion.\n\nThe process of their vanity may be traced in this manner. They have\nobserved, that some persons (of their acquaintance, it may be)\npretend to more faith than they have. They suppose the same thing of\nmany others; and they suppose too, the rest of the world, the more\nintelligent part of it at least, are in the same opinion. But they\npique themselves on their honesty: they will give no man leave to call\nin question their good faith; the ornament of their lives, and the\nidol of their hearts. And thus, as many men are ill-bred, for fear of\npassing in the world for flatterers; so these men are unbelievers, that\nthey may not be accounted hypocrites.\n\nAs extravagant as this turn of mind appears, it cannot be thought\nincredible; especially when united, as it may be, with that pride of\nunderstanding, and courage, before mentioned. \u201cIt is not for _me_,\n(says a presuming inquirer to himself) who am distinguished by a reach\nof thought and penetration from the vulgar, to admit, without scruple,\nso extraordinary a system, as that of Revelation. I must doubt and\ndisbelieve, where others see nothing to stop at. Nor is it for a man\nof my spirit to endure those shackles of reserve and respect, which\noppress the timid and servile believer. Above all, it becomes the\nhonesty, I profess, to take no part of my religion upon trust; an easy\nsubmission to what is called authority, is, with discerning men, but\nanother name for insincerity. As I tender, then, the reputation of my\n_wit_, my _courage_, and my _integrity_, it concerns me to take heed\nhow I entertain a belief; which may, at once, shake the credit of all\nthese virtues.\u201d\n\nThis train of sophistry, you see, is not ill laid; and one conceives\nhow a mind, transported with the love of false honour, may be caught by\nit.\n\nAt first, perhaps, the disbelief is _pretended_, only. But\npretences[127], continued for any time, become _realities_. And thus,\nwhat was assumed, to give us the credit of certain virtues with\nthe world, or with that part of it to which we desire to recommend\nourselves, is at length embraced with a sort of good faith; and we are,\nwhat we have seemed to be, at the instance indeed of our vanity, but,\nas we flatter ourselves, for the sake of those very virtues.\n\nSomething like this, which I have here described, may have been the\ncase of a well-known philosopher, who would be thought to crown his\nother parts of ingenuity and courage, with the purest probity[128].\nThis unhappy man, having published to the world an offensive system of\ninfidelity, and being called to account for it, replies to his censurer\nin these words\u2014_The world may calumniate me, as it sees fit; but it\nshall never take from me the honour of being the only author of this\nage, and of many others, who hath written with good faith_[129].\n\nWhat shall we say of this strange boast? Was it enthusiasm, or the\npride of virtue, that drew it from him? This _honest_ man, we will say,\nmight believe himself, when he talked at this rate: but then we must\nconclude, that nothing but the most intemperate love of praise could\nhave wrought him up to so frantic a persuasion.\n\nI suppose, it may now appear how easily we become the dupes of any\nfavourite passion; and how perfect an insight our Lord had into the\nnature of man, when he asserted in the text\u2014_that we cannot believe,\nif we will receive honour one of another_. _We cannot_, you see,\n_believe_; because, if that honour be the ultimate end and scope of our\nambition, the best faculties we possess, the fairest virtues of our\nhearts, will pervert, and, in a manner, force us into infidelity.\n\nLet this humiliating consideration have its full effect upon us.\nAbove all, let it check, or rather regulate that ardent desire of\nfame, which is so predominant in young and ingenuous minds. Let\nsuch learn from it to mistrust their passions, even the most refined\nand generous, when they would inquire into the evidences of their\nreligion. Let them remember that _reason_, pure impartial reason, is\nto direct them in this search; that the passion for honour is in all\ncases, but particularly in this (where it is so seducing) an unsafe and\ntreacherous guide; and that, to escape the illusions of infidelity and\na thousand other illusions, to which they will otherwise be exposed\nin common life, one certain method will be, To controul their love of\nfame, by the love of truth; which is, in other words, _to seek the\nhonour, that cometh of God, only_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XVIII.\n\nPREACHED APRIL 23, 1769.\n\nJOHN, ix. 41.\n\n _Jesus saith to them, If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but\n now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth._\n\n\nThese words were spoken by our Lord on occasion of a great miracle\nperformed by him, in restoring a man _born blind_ to his sight. This\nwonderful display of power had its natural effect on the man himself,\nin converting him to the faith of Jesus; while the Pharisees, who\nhad the fullest evidence laid before them of the _fact_, persisted\nobstinately in their infidelity. Yet the _blind_ man, on whom this\nmiracle had been wrought, was one of those whom the Pharisees accounted\n_blind_ in understanding, also; in other words, he was a plain\nunlettered man; whereas they themselves were _guides to the blind_,\nthat is, they pretended to a more than ordinary knowledge of the law\nand the prophets, by which they were enabled to conduct and enlighten\nothers.\n\nJesus, therefore, respecting at once his late restoration of the blind\nman\u2019s _sight_, and the different effects of that miracle on the _minds_\nof the two parties, applies, with singular elegance, to himself, the\nfamous prediction of Isaiah\u2014_For judgment_, says he, _am I come into\nthis world, that they, which see not, might see; and that they who see,\nmight be made blind_. The Pharisees were, indeed, sharp-sighted enough\nto perceive the drift of this application, and therefore said to him,\nin the same figurative language, _Are we blind also?_ To whom Jesus\nreplied in the words of the text, _If ye were blind, ye should have\nno sin; but now ye say we see, therefore your sin remaineth_. As if\nhe had said, \u201cIf ye were indeed ignorant of the law and the prophets,\nas ye account this poor man to be, ye might have some excuse for not\nbelieving in _me_, who appeal to that law and those prophets for the\nproof of my mission; but being so skilled in them, as ye are, and\nprofess yourselves to be, ye are clearly convicted of a willful, and\ntherefore criminal, infidelity.\u201d\n\nIt is implied, we see, in this severe reproof of the Pharisees, that\nknowledge and faith very well consist together, or rather that, where\n_knowledge_ is, there _faith_ must needs be, unless a very perverse use\nbe made of that knowledge.\n\nBut to this decision of our Lord, the unbelieving world is ready to\noppose its own maxims. \u201cIt sees so little connexion between _faith_\nand _knowledge_, that it rather concludes them to be incompatible: It\nallows the ignorant, indeed, who cannot _walk by sight_, to _walk by\nfaith_; but, as for the knowing and intelligent, the men of science and\nunderstanding, it presumes, that _faith_ cannot be required of these;\nand that, BECAUSE _they see_, it is too much to expect of them, _to\nbelieve in Jesus_.\u201d\n\nIt is true, the persons, who speak thus slightly of _faith_, are\nnot the most distinguished in the world by their own parts, or\nknowledge. But a certain mediocrity of _both_, inflated by vanity, and\ncountenanced by fashion, is forward to indulge in this free language;\nand the mischief done by it to Religion, is so great, that it may not\nbe amiss to expose, in few words, the indecency and folly of it.\n\nFAITH AND KNOWLEDGE, then, it is said, are at variance with each other.\nWhy? The answer, I suppose, will be, Because _faith_ is in itself\n_unreasonable_; in other words, it will be said, That the _evidences_\nof our religion are not convincing, and that the _doctrines_ of it are\nnot credible.\n\nOne word, then, on _each_ of these bold insinuations.\n\nI. The EVIDENCES of _revealed religion_ are so many and various; they\nlye so deep, or extend so wide; and consequently the difficulty of\ncollecting them into one view is so great, that few men have, perhaps,\ncomprehended the full force and effect of them. At least, none but\npersons of very superior industry, as well as understanding, have a\nright to pronounce on the total amount of such evidence.\n\nBut the _chief_ evidences of the _Christian Religion_ are drawn from\nPROPHECIES, and MIRACLES; and who are they who tell us, that these\nmethods of proof are unreasonable or unsatisfactory?\n\n1. That the argument from PROPHECIES should not convince those, who\nhave not considered the occasion, and design of them, the purposes\nthey were intended to serve, and therefore the degree of light and\nclearness, with which it was proper they should be given; who have\nnot studied the language in which those prophecies are conveyed, the\nstate of the times in which they were delivered, the manners, the\ncustoms, the opinions of those to whom they were addressed; above all,\nwho have not taken the pains to acquire a very exact and extensive\nknowledge of history, and so are not qualified to judge how far they\nhave been accomplished; that to such persons as these, I say, the\nargument from prophecy should not appear to have all that evidence\nwhich believers ascribe to it, is very likely; but then this effect is\nto be accounted for, not from their knowledge, but their ignorance,\nnot from their _seeing_ too clearly, but from their not seeing at all,\nor but imperfectly, into the merits of this argument. As for those,\nwho have searched deepest, and inquired with most care into this kind\nof evidence, they depose unanimously in its favour, and profess\nthemselves to have received conviction from it. So that, although there\nmay be difficulties in explaining particular prophecies, and though the\ncompletion of some be questioned, or not fully apprehended, yet, on the\nwhole, there is so much light arising out of this evidence, that it\nmust be great presumption in any man to say that there is no strength\nat all in it. Indeed, if the appeal lie to authority (as it must do,\nif men will not, or cannot, inquire for themselves) we can scarce help\nconcluding that the argument from prophecy carries with it a very\nconsiderable degree of evidence, since we find that such a man as\nNewton, not only submitted to this evidence himself, but thought it no\nmisapplication of his great talents, to illustrate and enforce it. Yet,\nsuch is the judgment or temper of our leaders[130] in infidelity, that\nthey had rather turn this very circumstance to the discredit of human\nnature itself (exhibited in its fairest form, and shining out with full\nlustre, in the virtues and accomplishments of that divine man) than\nallow it to do honour to that immortal object of their fear and spite,\nrevealed religion.\n\n2. The other great foundation of our faith is laid in MIRACLES; a sort\nof evidence, which may be estimated without that learning, or that\nsagacity, which is required in the case of _prophecies_; and which some\nmen therefore, out of the abundance of their common sense, have taken\nthe freedom to account of little weight or value. Yet, what opinion\nsoever these persons may have of their own understandings, they will\nscarce be able to convince a reasonable man that this evidence is not\nconclusive, and even incontestible, if they will but place it in a\nfair and just light. For the question is not concerning the evidence\nof miracles in _general_, but of miracles so circumstanced and so\nattested as those of the _Gospel_. Now, when the Religion to which\nthis attestation is given, has nothing in it which appears unworthy\nof the Deity; when the purpose for which the supposed miracles are\nwrought is such as must be allowed the most important of any that, in\nour ideas, could enter into the divine counsels with regard to mankind;\nwhen these miracles have further the advantage of being attested by\nthe most unexceptionable characters, and of being recorded in books,\nwritten soon after they were _wrought_, and by those who _saw_ them\nwrought, and in books too, which have been transmitted, without any\nnote of suspicion on them, to our times; when, lastly, these miracles\nhave all the circumstances of public notoriety attending them, when no\ncontemporary evidence discredits, and when many otherwise inexplicable\nfacts and events, suppose and confirm them; when such miracles, I say,\nas these, and under such circumstances only, are alledged in support of\nthe Christian Revelation, it must be a very extraordinary turn of mind\nthat can reject, as nothing, the evidence resulting from them. With\nany other miracles, however numerous, however confidently asserted, or\nplausibly set forth, we have nothing to do. There may have been ten\nthousand impostures of this sort, in the world. But _these_ miracles\nspeak their own credibility so strongly, that they are admitted, on\nhuman testimony, with the highest reason; and it must be more than a\nslender metaphysical argument, taken from their contrariety to what is\ncalled experience, which can prevent our belief of them, and overpower\nthe natural sense of the human mind.\n\nIt seems then, even on this slight view of the subject, that, if these\ntwo capital arguments from _prophecies and miracles_, for the truth of\nChristianity, appear inconclusive to unbelievers, the cause must be\nsome other than a want of that evidence, which may satisfy a reasonable\nman.\n\nII. But, perhaps the DOCTRINES of Christianity are such as revolt the\nrational mind, and are not capable of being supported by any evidence.\n\nLet us inquire then what truth there is in this _second_ allegation of\nunbelievers.\n\nIt is not possible, in a discourse of this nature, to enter into a\ndetail on the subject; but the chief obstacles to a faith in Jesus,\nindependently of the evidence on which it rests, are, I suppose, these\nTWO.\n\n1. A confused idea that the law of nature is sufficient to the\nsalvation of mankind;\n\n2. The mysterious nature of the Christian revelation.\n\nReason, they say, is a sufficient guide in matters of Religion;\ntherefore, Christianity is unnecessary: Again, Christianity is all over\nmysterious; therefore, it is unreasonable.\n\nNow, it will not be presuming too much to say, that the greater\nadvances any man makes in true knowledge, the more insignificant must\nthese _two_ great stumbling-blocks of infidelity needs appear to him.\n\n1. And, _first, for the sufficiency of nature in matters of religion_.\n\nWhether _nature_ be a sufficient guide in _morals_, let the history of\nmankind declare. They who know most of that history, and have, besides,\na philosophic knowledge of human nature, are the proper judges of the\nquestion; and to that tribunal I leave it: the _rather_, because,\nthough it be very clear what its decision must be, I hold, that what is\nmost essential to the Christian religion (which is a very different\nthing from _a republication of the law of nature_) is not at all\nconcerned in it.\n\nLet the law of nature be what it will, under this idea of a guide in\nmorals, let Socrates, if you please, be as great a master of it, as\nJesus, still the importance of Christianity remains, and is indeed very\nlittle affected by that concession.\n\nOur religion teaches, that man is under the sentence of mortality,\nand that immortal life in happiness, (which is the true idea of\nGospel-salvation) is the gift of God through Christ Jesus. These\nit relates as _two_ facts, which it requires us to believe on its\nown authority; _facts_, which could not otherwise have come to our\nknowledge, and on which the whole superstructure of Christianity is\nraised.\n\nNow, let the men of reason, the men who say, WE SEE, tell us, whether\nthey are sure that these facts are false; and, if they are not, whether\nthey know of any natural means by which _that sentence of mortality_\ncan be reversed, or _that gift of immortality_ can be secured.\n\nYes, they will say, by _a moral and virtuous life_, and by a _religious\ntrust_, which nature dictates, _in the goodness of the Deity_. What? Is\nany man so assured of his own virtue, as that he dares expect so great\nthings from it? Does he think it so perfect and of such efficacy, as\nthat it should remove a curse which lies on his nature, that it should\nredeem him from a general sentence, which is gone forth against all\nmankind? Is it not enough, that he does his duty (though where is the\nman that does that?) and thereby consults his own true interest in\nthis world, without requiring that his merits should deliver him from\nthe doom of death; or that, of force, they should compel the divine\n_goodness_ to deliver him from it?\n\nBut say, that the boundless mercy of God might so far consider the\npoor imperfect virtues of his lost creature, as to free him from the\nbondage of _death_, will he pretend that he has any claim, even upon\ninfinite goodness itself, for _eternal life in glory_? All that reason\nsuggests is, that, some way or other, either in this state or in one to\ncome, he shall be no loser by his virtue: but so immense a reward is\nsurely, not of _right_; and reason is too modest to entertain the least\nexpectation, or even thought of it.\n\nYou see then what the _sufficiency of nature_ comes to: It leaves us,\nfor any thing we know, under the sentence of _death_; and, for any\nthing we can do, very much short of _eternal life_. And is this all we\nget by following _nature_, as our all-sufficient guide, and rejecting\nthe assistance of _Revelation_? Are men satisfied to live, as they do\nhere, and then to die for ever; and all this, rather than condescend to\nlay hold on the mercy of God through Jesus? If they are, their ambition\nis very moderate; but, surely, this is not a moderation of that sort\nwhich is prescribed by _reason_.\n\n2. But they fly now (and it is their last resource) to the _mysterious\nnature of the dispensation itself_, which, they say, is perfectly\nirreconcileable with the principles of natural reason.\n\nThat Christianity is _mysterious_, that is, that it acquaints us\nwith many things which our faculties could not have discovered, and\nwhich they cannot fully comprehend or satisfactorily explain, is an\nundoubted truth.\u2014The pride of reason, when, from human sciences, where\nit saw much and thought it saw every thing, it turns to these divine\nstudies, is something mortified to find a representation of things\nvery different from what it should previously have conceived, and\nimpenetrable in many respects by its utmost diligence and curiosity.\nBut then, when further exercised and improved, the same reason\npresently checks this presumption, as seeing very clearly, that there\nare inexplicable difficulties every where, in the world of _nature_, as\nwell as in that of _grace_, and as seeing too, that, if both systems\nbe the product of infinite wisdom, it could not be otherwise. Next,\na thinking man, as his knowledge extends, and his mind opens, easily\napprehends, that, in such a scheme as that of Christianity, which runs\nup into the arcana of the divine councils in regard to man, there will\nbe many particulars of a new and extraordinary nature; and that such a\ndispensation must partake of the obscurity in which its divine Author\nchuses to veil his own glory.\n\nThus, we see, how the objections to the mysterious nature of the Gospel\nspring out of pride and inconsideration, and are gradually removed, as\nthe mind advances in the further knowledge of God and itself.\n\nNow, suppose there had been no mysterious parts in this Revelation,\nand that every thing had lain clear and open to the comprehension of\nnatural reason, what would the improved understanding of a wise man\nhave thought of it? Would he not have said, that the whole was of mere\nhuman contrivance? since, if it were indeed of divine, it must needs\nhave spoken its original by some marks of divinity, that is, by some\nsignatures of incomprehensible wisdom, impressed upon it. Consider,\nI say, whether this judgment would not have been made of such a\nRevelation; and whether there be not more sense and reason in it, than\nin that _other_ conclusion which many have drawn from the mysterious\nnature of the Christian religion.\n\nIT MAY APPEAR, from these cursory observations, that _faith\nand knowledge_ are no such enemies to each other, as they have\nbeen sometimes represented; and that neither the _evidences_ of\nChristianity, nor the _doctrines_ of it, need decline the scrutiny\nof the most improved reason. Conclude, therefore, when ye hear a\ncertain language on this subject, that it is equally foolish, as it is\nindecent; and that ye may safely profess a _belief_ in Jesus, without\nrisking the reputation of your _wisdom_.\n\nAnother conclusion is, that, when unbelievers lay claim to a more than\nordinary share of sense and penetration, we may allow their claim, if\nwe see fit, for other reasons, but NOT for their disdainful rejection\nof our divine religion. We must have better proofs of their sufficiency\nthan this, before we subscribe to it. We may even be allowed to\nconclude, from this circumstance of their unbelief, that they either\n_see not_ so clearly as they pretend, or that the case is still worse\nwith them, if they do. They are ready to ask us, indeed, in the prompt\nlanguage of the Pharisees to our Lord, _Are we blind also?_ To which\nquestion, having such an answer at hand, we need look out for no other\nthan that of Jesus, _If ye were blind, ye should have no sin; but now\nye say we see_, THEREFORE _your sin remaineth_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XIX.\n\nPREACHED MAY 12, 1771.\n\n1 COR. viii. 1.\n\n_Knowledge puffeth up; but Charity edifieth._\n\n\nThere is none of our little accomplishments, or advantages, which we\nare not apt to make the foundation of pride and vanity. When, upon\ncomparing ourselves with others, in any respect, we _entertain_ a\nhigher opinion of ourselves than we ought, this sentiment is called\nPRIDE. And when we are forward to _express_ the good opinion, we have\nof ourselves, to others, in our words or actions, (even though such\nopinion be but proportioned to our desert) we give to this disposition\nthe name of VANITY. Each of these affections of the mind is, a real\nvice: _Pride_, because it violates truth and reason; and _Vanity_,\nbecause it violates Christian charity.\n\nBut, of all the subjects of comparison which betray us into these\nvices, none is thought to produce them so easily, and to inflame them\nto that degree, as _learning or knowledge_. And we see the reason why\nit should be so. For knowledge arises from the exertion of our best\nand noblest faculties; those faculties which distinguish us to most\nadvantage, not only from the inferior creatures, but from each other.\nHence we are naturally led to place a higher value on this, than other\nacquisitions; and to make our pride and boast of that which is, indeed,\nthe glory of our nature.\n\nThe observation then seems well founded; and the Apostle advances no\nmore than what experience teaches, when he affirms in the text\u2014THAT\nKNOWLEDGE PUFFETH UP. Where, however, we are to take notice, that the\nremedy for this vice is not ignorance (which, though for different\nreasons, is as apt to engender pride and self-conceit, as knowledge\nitself) but Christian love and charity. For, when the Apostle had\nbrought this charge against _knowledge_, _that it puffeth up_, he does\nnot say that _ignorance_ keeps men humble, but that _charity edifieth_.\nWhence it appears, that, to correct this excess of self-love, which we\ncall pride, the Apostle would not have us renounce the way of learning\nand knowledge, but only increase our love and respect for mankind.\n\nCharity, then, is the proper cure of LEARNED PRIDE; and of\nthose unfriendly vices, which spring from it, _sufficiency_,\n_self-importance_, and _ostentation_: And it will be worth our while\nto consider, _in what_ RESPECTS, and _by what_ MEANS, this divine\nprinciple of charity contributes to that end. And this it does\n\n1. By keeping men steady to that OBJECT, which they ought to propose to\nthemselves in the cultivation of knowledge, I mean the _edification of\neach other\u2014charity edifieth_.\n\nOne of the ancient sects of philosophy carried their admiration of\n_knowledge_ so far, that they made it _the supreme good_ of man, and\nbuilt their whole _moral_ system (if it might be called such) on\nthis extravagant idea. Whereas, common sense, as well as religion,\nteaches, that knowledge, like our other faculties and attainments,\nis only an instrument of doing good to others; not to be regarded by\nus, as the end of moral action, or a good simply in itself, but as\none of those means by which we may express our moral character; and\npromote the common interest of society, which (in subordination to\nthe will and glory of God) is the proper end of man. Now, if we keep\nthis end in view, which Christian charity sets before us, we shall\nneither cultivate knowledge for its own sake (which is a strain of\nfanaticism, unsuited to our present condition); nor for the sake of\nthat complacency, which may be apt to result from it; nor solely, for\nany other selfish purpose to which it may serve: but we shall chiefly\nand ultimately refer it to the use and edification of our brother; and\nshall therefore suppress that inordinate elation of heart and display\nof vain-glory, which tend so much to obstruct the success of our\napplications to him in this way.\n\n2. Charity, estimating the value of knowledge by the good it _actually_\ndoes to others, finds the very foundation of pride and vanity, in the\napplication of it, in a great measure taken away. For, how divine\na thing soever knowledge may appear to the mind, when heated by\nspeculation, we shall find, in practice, that it falls very much short\nof those glorious ideas we had formed of it; that the _real service_,\nwe are enabled to do to mankind by our most improved faculties, affords\nbut little occasion to the gratulations of self-esteem (which, when\nresulting from such service, are, no doubt, more pardonable than in\nany other case whatsoever); and that, if such gratulations arise in\nus from some slight and partial services done to others, they are\nsufficiently checked and mortified by the general ill success of our\nmost strenuous endeavours, and best concerted designs. The philosopher\nand divine, after many studious days and sleepless nights, are ready to\npromise to themselves great effects from their systems and apologies.\nAlas, the world is little bettered or improved by them. Its amusements,\nits follies, its vices, take their usual course. Reason and knowledge\nare found but feeble instruments of its conversion. It attends so\nlittle, or so negligently to its instructors, that it remains almost as\nuninformed, and as corrupt as before.\n\nSuch is too commonly the issue of our best pains in the cultivation of\nmoral and religious truth! Or, if in some rare cases it be otherwise,\nand some sensible, some considerable, benefit result from them, still\nit will be far less than the good man wishes and intends. For, burning\nwith this holy zeal of love to mankind, the charitable instructor of\nthe ignorant is in the condition of HIM, whose ambitious zeal the poet\nso well describes: His successes do but inflame his desires; and _he\nreckons he has done nothing, so long as there remains any thing for him\nto do_[131].\n\nSo certainly does charity, in this work of learned instruction,\ndisconcert and subdue all the projects and emotions of pride!\n\n3. Charity takes a sure way to counteract those movements of vanity and\nself-applause, which the pursuits of knowledge are apt to excite, _by\nconfining our attention to solid and important subjects_. For, when the\nmind is thus employed, it naturally refers its acquisitions to _use_,\nnot vanity; or, if vanity should still find room to spring up with this\ncrop of useful knowledge, its growth would be much checked by this\nbenevolent and social attention: It would either die away amidst these\nhigher regards of duty and public spirit, or would lose at least very\nmuch of its malignant nature, and of those qualities which render it so\noffensive to mankind. Whereas, when we employ ourselves on frivolous\nor unimportant subjects, which offer nothing to our view besides the\ningenuity of the speculation, and the distinction of the pursuit, these\nideas are so present to the mind, and engross it so much, that vanity\nand self-esteem almost necessarily spring from them, luxuriant and\nunrestrained.\n\nBesides, the mind, which loves to justify itself in all its operations,\nfinding but little real use or worth in these disquisitions, strives to\nmake itself amends by placing an imaginary value upon them; and grows\nso much the more enamoured of them, as it foresees and expects the\nneglect and indifference of other men.\n\nHence, the sufficiency of such persons as wholly employ their time\nand pains in the more abstract studies, in the minuter parts of\nlearning, and universally in such inquiries as terminate only or\nchiefly in curiosity and amusement, is more than ordinarily glaring\nand offensive. Their minds are _puffed up_ with immoderate conceptions\nof their own importance; and this unnatural tumour they are neither\nable, nor willing, to conceal from others. The secret is, they would\npersuade themselves first, and then the world, that their studies and\noccupations are less frivolous, than they in earnest believe or suspect\nthem, at least, to be.\n\nNow, Charity, indisposing us to these fruitless speculations, and\ndelighting to cultivate such parts of knowledge as have a real dignity\nin them, and are productive of light and use, tends directly to keep\nus modest, by taking away this so natural temptation to pride and\nself-conceit.\n\n4. Further, we may observe that, of the more important studies\nthemselves, such as we call _practical_, are less liable to this\nperversion of vanity, than the speculative, to what important ends\nsoever they may ultimately be referred. And the reason of the\ndifference is, that, in the former case, the calls of charity upon\nus are more instant. We cannot stir a step in practical meditations\nwithout considering what use and benefit may result from them: while\nthe speculative seem to terminate in themselves; are pursued, for the\ntime at least, for their own sakes; and so, by keeping the ultimate\nend out of sight, do not divert the mind enough from that complacent\nattention to its own ingenious researches, whence the passion of pride\nis apt to take its rise.\n\nNot but there are some parts of knowledge, which, though called\npractical, and referring indeed to practice, have a different\neffect. But these are such, as are in their own nature boastful and\nostentatious; calculated not so much for use, as pleasure; or, at most,\nterminating in some private and selfish end. The proficients in these\npopular arts and studies are tempted to regard, not the good _simply_,\nwhich their knowledge might do to others, but the general influence of\nit, and the consideration, which, by means of such influence, whether\nto a good or bad purpose, they may draw to themselves.\n\nOf this sort was, too commonly, the study of eloquence in the ancient,\nand sometimes, I doubt, in the modern world. Vanity is apt to mix\nitself with these practical studies, and to result from them; the\nquestion generally being, not how the greatest good may be effected by\nthem, but how the greatest impression may be made.\n\nDivine and moral subjects, _practically_ considered (though vanity may\ncreep in here), are more secure from this abuse. For, respecting the\nspiritual and moral good of men, distinctly and exclusively, a regard\nto the end must correct and purify the means. And thus we are not\nsurprised to find, that, while a vain rhetorician[132] is said to have\nboasted, in the hearing of all Greece, that _he knew every thing_, the\nsober moralist of Athens[133] readily confessed, _he knew nothing_.\n\n5. Another way, in which _charity_ operates to the suppression of\n_pride_, is, _by increasing our good opinion of other men_. _Pride_ is\nan elation of mind upon comparing ourselves with others, and observing\nhow much we excel them in any respect; and, in the present instance,\nhow much we excel them in point of _knowledge_. When the mind is wholly\noccupied by _self-love_, it easily magnifies its own attainments,\nand as easily diminishes those of others: whence the advantage, on a\ncomparison, must needs be to _itself_. But when _charity_, or the love\nof others, prevails in us to any degree, we are willing to do them\n_justice_ at least, and _but_ justice to ourselves: nay, our affection\nto others makes us willing to see their good qualities in the fairest\nlight, to magnify to ourselves their excellencies, and to lessen or\noverlook their defects; while on the other hand, it inclines us readily\nto forego any undue claims of pre-eminence, and even to abate something\nof what we might strictly claim to ourselves: whence the comparison\nmust be more favourable to _others_; and our pride, if not entirely\nprevented, must be considerably reduced. Increase this charity, and the\npride still lessens; till, at length, it is almost literally true, as\nthe Apostle divinely expresses it, that, _in lowliness of mind, each\nesteems other better than himself_; _better_, in respect to _knowledge_,\nas to every thing else.\n\n6. Lastly, charity, not only by its qualities, but in the _very nature\nof things_, is destructive of all _pride_. For what is pride, but an\nimmoderate _love_ of ourselves? And what is charity, but a fervent\n_love_ of other men? It is the same passion of love, only directed to\ndifferent objects. When it is concentred in a man\u2019s self, it naturally\ngrows abundant and excessive: divert some part of it upon others,\nand the selfish love is proportionably restrained. Just as seas and\nrivers would overflow their shores and banks, if they had no outlet\nor circulation: but issuing forth in useful streams or vapours to\nrefresh the land, they are kept in due proportion, and neither deluge\nthe rest of the globe, nor drain themselves. Thus the affection of\n_love_, if too much confined, would overflow in _pride and arrogance_;\nbut, when part of it is diffused on others, the rest is innoxious and\neven salutary, as supplying the mind only with a _just and moderate\nself-esteem_.\n\nHence we see that charity, by its very operation, corrects the excesses\nof self-love; and therefore of learned pride (which is _one_ of those\nexcesses) as well as any other vice, which the confined and inordinate\nexercise of that passion is apt to produce.\n\nIn these several ways then, whether, by prescribing the proper _end_\nof knowledge, _the edification of our neighbour_, an attention to\nwhich must needs lessen the temptation to pride; or, by suggesting how\n_imperfectly_ that end is attained by knowledge, which must mortify,\nrather than inflame our pride; or, by confining the candidates of\nknowledge _to solid and important subjects_, and, of _these_, rather to\n_practical_ subjects, than those of speculation, both which pursuits\nare unfavourable to the growth of pride; or, by increasing _our good\nopinion of others_, engaged in the same pursuits of knowledge, which\nmust so far take from our fancied superiority over them; or, lastly,\n_by the necessary effect of its operation_, which is essentially\ndestructive of that vicious self-love, which is the parent of such\nfancies\u2014In _all_ these respects, I say, it is clearly seen how\nCHARITY, whose office it is to _edify_ others, is properly applied to\nthe cure of that tumour of the mind, which knowledge generates, and\nwhich we know by the name of LEARNED PRIDE.\n\nThere are many other considerations, no doubt, which serve to mortify\nthis pride; but nothing tends so immediately to remove it, as the\nincrease of charity. It is therefore to be wished, that men, engaged in\nthe pursuits of learning, would especially cultivate in themselves this\ndivine principle. Knowledge, when tempered by humility, and directed to\nthe ends of charity, is indeed a valuable acquisition; and, though no\nfit subject of vain-glory, is justly entitled to the esteem of mankind.\nIt should further be remembered, that this virtue, which so much adorns\nknowledge, is the peculiar characteristic grace of our religion;\nwithout which, all our attainments, of whatever kind, are fruitless\nand vain. Let the man of Science, then, who has succeeded to his wish\nin rearing some mighty fabric of human knowledge, and from the top of\nit is tempted with a vain complacency to _look down_, as the phrase\nis, _on the ignorant vulgar_; let such an one not forget to say with\nHIM, who had been higher yet, even as high as _the third Heaven[134]_,\n\u201c_Though I understand all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have not\ncharity, I am nothing_[135].\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XX.\n\nPREACHED NOVEMBER 19, 1769.\n\nACTS OF THE APOSTLES, xxvi. 9.\n\n_I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary\nto the name of Jesus of Nazareth._\n\n\nThe case of the Apostle, Paul, as represented by himself in these\nwords, is so remarkable, that it cannot but deserve our attentive\nconsideration.\n\nThe account of _those many things_, which he thought himself obliged\n_to do against the name of Jesus_, during his unbelieving state, he\ngives us in the chapter whence the text is taken. _These things_,\ncontinues he in his apology to king Agrippa, _I did in Jerusalem, and\nmany of the Saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority\nfrom the chief-priests; and when they were put to death, I gave my\nvoice against them. And punished them oft in every synagogue, and\ncompelled them to blaspheme; and being exceedingly mad against them, I\npersecuted them, even to strange cities._ And then he proceeds to speak\nof his going, with the same authority, and the same zeal, to persecute\nthe Christians that were at Damascus; when, in his journey thither, he\nwas suddenly stopt in the career of his impiety by _a heavenly vision_,\nwhich had the effect to overturn his former persuasion, and to make a\nfull convert of him to the Christian faith.\n\n1. From this account of himself, we learn, that Paul, in his Jewish\nstate, had been carried, by his zeal, into all the horrors of\npersecution. And _these things_, he says, _he verily believed he ought\nto do, contrary to the name of Jesus_.\n\n\u201cBut what, you will ask, did this _belief_ then justify those crimes?\nAnd, are blasphemy, murder, and persecution, innocent things, from the\ntime that a man persuades himself he ought to commit them? This would\nopen a door to all the evils of the most outrageous fanaticism, and\nevacuate the whole moral law, under the pretence of conscience.\u201d\n\nIn general, it would do so: and we shall presently find, that St. Paul\ndoes not pretend to justify _himself_, notwithstanding _he verily\nbelieved he ought to do these things_. But to see the degree of his\ncrime, it will be convenient, and but just to the criminal, to call to\nmind, in the first place, the peculiar circumstances under which it was\ncommitted.\n\nPaul was at that time a Jew; and, as a follower of this law, his\nconduct, supposing his conscience to have been rightly informed, had\nnot been blameable; on the contrary, had been highly meritorious. For\nthe law of Moses made the restraint of opinions, in matter of religion,\nlawful: Heterodoxy was to a Jew but another word for disloyalty; and\na zeal to see the rigour of the law executed on that crime, was the\nhonour of a Jewish subject. Paul, then, conceiving of Jesus as a false\nprophet, and the author of a new worship, contrary to that of the God\nof Israel, Paul, I say, regarding Jesus in this light, but conformed\nto the spirit of the law, when he joined in persecuting the Jewish\nChristians, and must esteem himself to have deserved well of it.\n\nAnd this he, in fact, did. For, reckoning up the several merits,\nwhich, as a Jew, he might claim to himself, he mentions this\nzeal of persecution, as one, which did him honour, under that\ncharacter\u2014_Concerning zeal_, says he, PERSECUTING THE CHURCH[136].\n\nThe crime of Paul, then, as of the other Jews, in persecuting Christ\nand his religion, was not _simply_ the crime of persecution (for,\nhad that religion been a false one, by the peculiar structure of the\nJewish \u0153conomy, there would have been no crime at all in punishing\nsuch of the Jews, as professed themselves of it); but his guilt was,\nand, in general, the guilt of the other Jews was, in misapplying the\nlaw to this particular case; in persecuting a just and divine person,\nwhom their own prophets had foretold and pointed out, who came in no\nopposition to the Jewish law, nay, who came _not to destroy_, but _to\nfulfill_[137].\n\nThe conclusion is, that, though _persecution_ be on no pretence of\nconscience excusable in another man, yet in a Jew, and as directed\nagainst an apostate Jew, it had not this malignity, and was not the\nproper subject of his abhorrence[138].\n\nTo the question then, \u201cWhether Paul\u2019s belief justified his practice,\nin the case before us, that is, whether he did right _in doing that\nwhich he verily believed he ought to do_,\u201d You may take his own\nanswer\u2014_This_, says he, _is a faithful saying, and worthy of all\nacceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners_,\nOF WHOM I AM CHIEF[139]. He owns himself, we see, to have been _the\nchief of sinners_, that is, making all allowance for the hyperbole and\nmodesty of the expression, a very great sinner. And if you ask in what\nrespect, he tells you that, too: for, in the immediately preceding\nverses, he declares the ground of this charge upon himself, _That he\nhad been a blasphemer, and a persecutor, and injurious_. And in another\nplace he says of himself, _I am the least of the Apostles; that am\nnot meet to be called an Apostle, because I persecuted the church of\nGod_[140].\n\nYou see, then, that, notwithstanding his former religion authorized\nhim to persecute its enemies, notwithstanding he verily believed, that\nhe ought to persecute Jesus as such, yet he now condemns himself,\nas having grievously sinned in giving way to that authority, and to\nthat persuasion. How is this conduct to be accounted for and made\nconsistent? plainly, by observing, that he had persecuted without\nwarrant, even from his former religion; that he had culpably and rashly\noverlooked (what he might and ought to have seen) that Jesus was no\nfit object of this severity even to a Jew, that he was no enemy or\nsubverter of the Jewish law, that he was no rebel to the God and king\nof Israel, but came indeed from him, acted by his commission, and\ndisplayed all the signs and credentials of the Messiah, in whom the law\nand the prophets were finally to be completed.\n\nWithout doubt, his being now of a religion, which forbad persecution,\nunder all its forms, sharpened his sense of this crime, and may perhaps\naccount for his calling himself the _chief_ of sinners; yet, that the\npersecution of Christians was to him a crime, and that he had sinned\nin committing it, he could not but know, and is clearly to be inferred\nfrom his expression. All the use he makes of his Jewish persuasion,\nis, but to palliate something what he knew was without excuse:\u2014_I\nobtained mercy_, says he, _because I did it ignorantly in unbelief_:\nthat is, because I persecuted in my _unbelieving_ state of a Jew,\nand was kept, by the genius of the Mosaic law, from _knowing_ and\nconsidering the general malignity of persecution. And that there may\nbe some ground of mercy in this consideration, who can doubt, when we\nfind the Son of God interceding for his very murderers on the same\nprinciple\u2014_Father_, says he, _forgive them, for they know not what\nthey do_.\n\nThere was this difference, you see, between a Jewish and a Gentile\npersecutor. The _Jew_ was answerable for his not seeing that Jesus\nwas the Messiah: The _Gentile_ was to answer for that ignorance, and\nfor his not seeing the general iniquity of persecution, on account of\nreligion.\n\nPaul, however, was certainly to blame; nay, he takes much blame on\nhimself, for acting _ignorantly_ against the name of Jesus, though his\nignorance was of the former kind only.\n\n2. But now another question, and a very important one, arises out of\nthis state of the case. Paul _verily thought_ that the religion of\nJesus was an imposture. Yet he was _mistaken_ in thinking so; and, what\nis more, his mistake was highly _criminal_.\n\nWhat then shall we say to those persons, who affirm, that, provided a\nman be _persuaded_ of the truth of his opinions, he is not answerable\nfor his mistakes? or, in other words, what becomes of that notion which\nmany have taken up, concerning _the innocency of error in matters of\nreligion_?\n\nI understand what is generally alledged in support of this candid and\nconciliating opinion. But the text says expressly, that Paul _verily\nbelieved he ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus_; and\nwith all this firmness of belief Paul was _the chief of sinners_.\n\nMen therefore conclude too hastily, when from the sole _persuasion_ of\ntheir sincerity they infer the innocence of their errors.\n\n\u201cBut what then would you require of poor unhappy man, whose _reason_ is\nnaturally so weak, and whose _prejudices_ are often so strong?\u201d Why,\nto use the force he has; to consider well whether he be indeed sincere\n(for to be firmly, and to be _sincerely_ persuaded, is not always the\nsame thing); to employ his reason, such as it is, with care, and to\ncontroul his prejudices, what he can, by an impartial examination.\n\nAll this, it will be answered, is already done. It may be so. Let me\nthen have leave to interrogate the sincere rejecter of Christianity,\nand try his good faith, of which he is so well assured, by the\nfollowing questions.\n\n\u201cHas he cultivated his mind, and furnished himself with the requisite\nhelps for religious inquiry? Has he studied the sacred volumes\nwith care? Has he considered their scope and end? their genius and\ncharacter? Has he fixed the boundaries of reason and of faith? Does\nhe know where the province of the former ends, and where that of the\nsecond commences? Has he studied himself, his faculties and powers, his\nwants and necessities? Has he weighed the importance of the search,\nhe is making into the will and word of God? Has he made that search\nwith a suitable diligence and sobriety? Has he accustomed himself to\nthe investigation of moral evidence? Has he collected, compared, and\nestimated, what is brought in evidence for the truth of the Christian\nreligion? Has he, in short, (for I address myself to capable inquirers\nonly) omitted none of those means which reason requires, and employed\nall that industry, and thought, and application, which the sincere love\nof truth demands on so momentous an occasion?\n\n\u201cStill, I have other inquiries to make. Has he approached the sanctuary\nof religion with awe? Has he purged his mind from all gross, nay from\nall refined vices? Had he no interest to serve, no prejudice to sooth,\nno predominant passion to gratify, by a hasty conclusion concerning the\ntruth of Christianity? Or, (not to suspect a philosophic mind of these\nvulgar illusions) had he no vanity to flatter, no capricious levity to\nindulge, by a short and disdainful rejection of it? Had he no spleen\nto divert, no regard of fashion, no partialities of acquaintance or\neducation to mislead him, from conviction? Had he no secret wish or\nhope, which he scarcely durst tell to himself, that his inquiry would\nend in doubt at least, if not in infidelity? In a word, can he assure\nhimself, that in these several respects, he had no bias on his mind, or\ndid his best at least to have none, against a conclusion, to which an\nimpartial love of truth might invite and compell him?\u201d\n\nHad St. Paul himself been questioned in this manner, concerning his\nsincere belief, that he _ought to do many things contrary to the name\nof Jesus_, he would hardly, I suppose, have said, that he had fulfilled\nall these conditions;\u2014But we know what he did say, to himself and to\nthe world: He said, He was THE CHIEF OF SINNERS.\n\nSo remote is persuasion from sincerity! and so little acquainted, many\ntimes, are _innocence and error_!\n\nBut \u2018these questions, it will be said, may be retorted on the believer;\nwho may be neither more diligent, nor more impartial in his inquiries,\nthan the unbeliever.\u2019\n\nAllow that they may; yet observe the immense difference of the two\ncases, in regard both to the _danger_ incurred, and to the _crime_\ncommitted.\n\nIf I _believe_, on insufficient grounds, what do I lose? only what I\ncan well spare; my unbelief and my vices. And what do I gain? that,\nwhich of all things is most precious to me; peace of mind, and the\nhopes of heaven. On the other hand, if I _disbelieve_, I lose all that\nis valuable in both worlds, and gain nothing but the sad privilege of\nbeing set free from the restraints of this religion[141].\n\nConsider, too, the difference of the _crime_, in the two cases. If the\nChristian errs in admitting the truth of his religion, he has only\nto answer for his ill judgment, at most: he could be drawn to this\npersuasion by no criminal motives: for, which of these could bias\nhim to the belief of the holiest of all religions? If the error lies\non the other side, in rejecting this religion, how shall he know,\nthat, besides the blame of judging ill, some immoral purposes and\ndispositions may not have secretly concurred to pervert his judgment?\nThe Christian may be unreasonable: but the unbeliever, I do not say,\ncertainly, but, is too probably _vicious_.\n\nThus the danger, in all views, is on the unbelieving side. And if there\nbe difficulty in knowing when I am sincere, there is none in knowing\nwhich of the two mistakes is safer and less criminal.\n\nIt will be said, perhaps, that an inquirer may be biassed in favour\nof Christianity by corrupt motives, that is, by views of _credit_\nor _interest_, attending the profession of it, in countries where\nthis religion is legally established. Without doubt. But such persons\ncan hardly put themselves in the case of St. Paul, and say, They are\n_verily persuaded_, they ought to be Christians. For such gross motives\ncan be no secret to their own hearts, and they cannot but know that\nChristianity condemns all such motives. I regard then such persons\nin the light of _hypocrites_ confessed, and by no means in that of\n_believers_. On the other hand, men may _affect_ to disbelieve from the\nlike views of _credit_ or _interest_, in certain circumstances; and so\nbecome hypocrites of another kind; of which the number is, perhaps, not\ninconsiderable. But I am here speaking of such corrupt partialities\nas may consist with a firm belief, or disbelief of Christianity. And\nhere it is plain, the criminality is likely to be much greater in him\nwho without ground rejects, than in him who too hastily admits such a\nreligion.\n\nTo conclude, then, with the case of St. Paul, which has given occasion\nto these reflexions.\n\nNo firmness of persuasion, it is plain, can justify a man in being led\nby it into the commission of gross and acknowledged crimes. And the\nreason is, that no persuasion of the truth of any principle can be\ngreater than that which every man has that he ought not to commit such\nactions. If St. Paul\u2019s persuasion saved him from this guilt, it was\nowing to the peculiar genius of the Jewish religion.\n\nBut, further, St. Paul was blameable for taking up that _persuasion_,\non which he acted. His mind had been corrupted by hasty prejudices,\nand ungoverned passion. He concluded too fast, then, when he thought\nhis persuasion _sincere_, though it was indeed strong and violent. His\npersuasion did not exclude error, and that error implied insincerity,\nand so was not _innocent_.\n\nIt follows from the whole, that we ought never to _act_ wrong on\nthe pretence of conscience; and that we should learn to suspect the\npossibility of guilt\u2019s mixing itself even with what we call our\nspeculative opinions. Error may be innocent; but not so long as truth\nlies before us, and we may, if we do our duty, discover it. Let our\ninquiries, then, in all matters of moment, above all in those of\nreligion, be diligent, and strictly honest. Where these precautions are\nnot observed, our mistakes are always blameable, because in some degree\nthey are wilful and insincere.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXI.\n\nPREACHED MAY 10, 1767.\n\nSt. LUKE, vi. 26.\n\n_Woe unto you, when all men speak well of you._\n\n\nAmong other _woes_ denounced in this chapter by our Saviour against\ndifferent sorts of men, we have one in the text against _those, of whom\nall men speak well_.\n\nThe reason of this severe sentence may not appear at first sight:\nfirst, because it may not immediately occur to us, what hurt or\ninconvenience there can be in every man\u2019s good word; and, secondly,\nbecause every man\u2019s good word is not likely to be had.\n\nAs to this last particular, it is true, the praise of _all men_, in\nthe full extent of the words, is not to be obtained. But the sense of\nthe text requires, only, that we understand a very general praise;\nand this we see many men obtain: And if we only want to know, in what\nrespects, the possession of this praise can be deemed a misfortune, we\nshall find them, I suppose, (without looking further) in the following\nconsiderations.\n\nThe WOE, of being _well spoken of by all men_, may be apprehended,\nif we reflect, That (taking the world as it is) its good word, so\nlargely bestowed on any man, implies _a mediocrity of virtue, at the\nbest_;\u2014that it frequently implies, _a considerable degree of positive\nill-desert_;\u2014that it sometimes implies, _a thorough depravity and\nprostitution of the moral character_.\n\nFrom these THREE considerations, I propose to illustrate the _woe_ of\nthe text.\u2014In moral discourses, it is scarce possible to avoid very\ngeneral assertions. These may sometimes want to be restrained: but ye\nwill do it for yourselves, as ye see cause; for the appeal lies, all\nalong, to your own bosoms and experience.\n\nI. I say then, _first_; that to be _well spoken of by all men_, implies\nA MEDIOCRITY OF VIRTUE AT THE BEST.\n\nAnd the assertion is founded on many reasons. An eminent degree\nof virtue excites envy; is not generally understood; is unapt to\naccommodate itself to men\u2019s views and expectations; and, lastly, is\nliable to some excesses, and connected with some infirmities, which\nare either peculiar to itself, or would less disgrace a virtue of the\ncommon stamp.\n\nLet us weigh these several reasons.\n\n1. The chapter of _envy_ is a common one, and has been exhausted by\nevery moralist. When a man\u2019s worth lifts him above the generality\nof his species, he is thought to depress those who feel themselves\nbeneath him. Their pride is hurt, their self-love is mortified, by\nthe acknowledged preference. And in this state of things, no wonder\nthat much industry is employed to obscure a virtue, whose unclouded\nsplendour would give pain.\n\n2. But men sometimes detract from a superior character, with perfect\ngood faith. It is not envy, but _inapprehension_, which sets them on\nwork. For it is with some virtues, as with those sublimer graces in a\nwork of art of genius: few, but such as could have set the example,\nhave any idea or conception of them.\n\nThus, a disinterested goodness, when carried to a certain length; a\ngenerosity of mind, when stretched beyond certain bounds; a sense of\nhonour, operating to a certain degree; in a word, temperance, justice,\npiety, humanity, any or all of these virtues, exalted to a certain\npitch, are either not comprehended, or are perhaps traduced, as marks\nof folly and extravagance, by those who are not capable of ascending to\nthese heights themselves. Of which, the instances are so frequent in\nall history, and even in common life, that no man wants to be reminded\nof them.\n\n3. Still, if superior virtue were only envied, or ill-understood,\nthe misfortune would not be so great. It is, besides, _active,\nenterprising, constant, and inflexible_. It contents not itself\nwith being merely passive, innoxious, blameless: it would oblige,\nbefriend, and merit of mankind. It would be distinguished by actual\nservices, or at least by glorious attempts. And in prosecuting these,\nit consults no man\u2019s occasions; bends to no man\u2019s prejudices; leans to\nno partial interests or considerations; is simple, uniform, invariable,\nand holds on its course, steadily and directly, towards its main end\nand scope. There is a magnanimity in true worth and goodness, which\nscorns and rejects all disguises, and would appear and be itself.\n\nA character of this stamp is too awful to be popular. There is\nsomething of terror in so sublime a virtue; and those who are\ndistinguished by it, may be esteemed, perhaps, and revered, but are\nrarely applauded by the world. What difference between the divine\nintegrity of Cato, and the specious temporizing virtues of C\u00e6sar! Yet,\nif history had been silent, we should easily have known which of these\nmen was destined to be the idol of the Roman people.\n\n4. Nor is even this the worst. Virtue, in this exalted state, is not\neasily restrained from running, at times, into certain EXCESSES:\n_excesses_, which spring, as it were, from its very essence, and\nwhich the truly wise allow for, excuse, and almost admire; but which\nhurt the reputation more, with base and ordinary minds, than the\nvirtue itself, under a due exertion, serves and promotes it.\n\nWhen the virtuous Brutus, in the crisis of the Roman state, struggling\nfor its last breath of liberty, chose rather to put everything to\nhazard, than _violate the strict forms of law and justice_[142]:\u2014And\nagain, when our virtuous Falkland was kept, by his nice sense of\nhonour, from _taking some liberties_[143], which the duty of his place,\nthe public service, and the practice of all times, might seem to\nauthorize; when these great men, I say, erred from an excess of virtue,\na thousand tongues were ready to blaspheme, and even ridicule their\nmistakes, while one or two only revered the honesty of mind, which gave\nbirth to them.\n\nThese glorious excesses, which are frequent in a virtuous character,\nhardly deserve the name of infirmities: yet _infirmities_, in the\ncommon sense of the word, are the lot of human nature, in whatever\nstate of perfection. That heat of mind, which nourishes heroic virtue,\nis apt to produce these; and, as the noblest genius sometimes lets fall\ninaccuracies, which moderate talents would correct; so the best man\nsometimes commits extravagancies, which a moderate virtue would avoid:\nand when this mischance happens, the infirmity is sure to be observed,\nand never pardoned. Or, let the weakness be such, as is incident to our\ncommon nature; still its effects are very different; it shall eclipse\nhalf the virtues of an excellent man, and, in a common character, be\neither not seen, or not regarded.\n\nSo true it is, that, to be _well spoken of by all men_, implies but\nan ordinary share of virtue, at best! For, consider these several\ncircumstances, and see what a shade they cast on the reputation of\nextraordinary men. To shine out in the full lustre of a general flame,\nis reserved for those, _whose virtue is not of a size to give umbrage;\nwhose merits are to the level of all eyes; who adapt themselves with\ndexterity to all occasions; and who are kept, by their very mediocrity,\nfrom any infirmity, or excess_.\n\nAnd it would be well, if the _woe_ ended here; if the misfortune of\nthese applauded men were negative only, and amounted to no more than\nthe absence of vice, or the possession of virtue in the common degrees.\nBut, I doubt, it amounts to much more: it frequently implies\n\nII. A CONSIDERABLE DEGREE OF POSITIVE ILL-DESERT.\n\nWhen the Jews, in a fit of ignorant zeal, were taking up stones to cast\nat our blessed Lord, he said to them: _Many_ GOOD WORKS _have I shewed\nyou from my Father; for which of_ THESE _works do ye stone me_[144]?\nIntimating, that the resentment of a misjudging multitude is generally\noccasioned by praise-worthy actions. On the same principle, when shouts\nof popular applause are sounding in a man\u2019s ears, he may reasonably\nask, _For which of my_ EVIL DEEDS _is this praise wasted upon me_? For\nit is just as much to be expected that a clamorous praise should attend\na bad action, as that a clamorous rage should be excited by a good one.\n\nAnd if we look abroad into the world, we shall find, that it is not\nvirtue, in whatever degree, but some popular vice, that too oft engages\nits warmest approbation. In fact, even a moderate share of virtue,\njoined to an inoffensive character, shall more frequently secure a\nman from the censure, than procure him the applause of mankind. To\nbe generally _well spoken of_, he must do more than not offend: he\nmust merit his reward, before it is conferred upon him. And, though\nillustrious services may sometimes extort this reward, yet the surer\nand easier way to obtain it, is to please. And when I am to please _all\nmen_, in order to obtain the suffrage of all, tell me what way there\nis of executing this project, without dishonouring myself. Men are not\npleased, unless I humour their foibles, sooth their vices, serve their\nill ends, or unjustifiable passions; and _woe_ unto me, if I acquire\ntheir good opinion by these means.\n\nBut suppose I am restrained by some sense of decency and of duty, and\nnot disposed to run all lengths in my endeavours to please. Still it is\nnot nothing, to be silent where virtue bids me speak; it is something,\nto give a man leave to think he is honoured by me for that which\ndeserves blame; it is base, to flatter and extoll immoderately even his\ngood qualities; and it is flagitious to countenance and inflame his bad\nones.\n\nYet one or other of these ways must he take, who is ambitious of every\nman\u2019s good word. And is there no _woe_, think ye, in such a conduct\nas this? Suppose I but sacrifice one virtue to my reputation, but one\ngenerous quality to my passion for fame; still am I innocent in making\nthis sacrifice? Can I applaud myself for making thus free with my\nmoral character? Or, rather, have I not cause to humble myself under a\nsense of my ill-desert?\n\nYes, _woe_ to that man, who, to be well with the world, or with any\npart of it, deserts any one virtuous principle, transgresses any one\nknown duty, corrupts his conscience with any one deliberate vice. Let\nthe world\u2019s applause be what it will; he is a loser who gains it on\nsuch terms.\n\nBut I am still putting matters at the best; For,\n\nIII. Lastly, this general acceptation, this mighty privilege of being\n_well spoken of by all men_, sometimes, and not unfrequently, demands\na sacrifice, not of one, but all the virtues: it implies A THOROUGH\nDEPRAVITY AND PROSTITUTION OF THE MORAL CHARACTER.\n\nOur delicacy will not bear to have this matter pushed home, and brought\ndirectly to ourselves. Our self-love revolts against the imputation;\nand no man applies so severe a censure to his own case, or that of his\nacquaintance. Let us look abroad, then, for what we are willing to\nshift off so far from us.\n\nLet us look for this opprobrious character in ancient times, and\ndistant regions, with which we may take greater liberties, and\nconcerning which we may discourse without offence. And when we have\nfound it, let us only remember that the character is no ideal one; that\nit is fairly taken from the annals of human nature, and may therefore,\nin part at least, concern ourselves.\n\nA noble Roman is described by ONE who knew him well, in the following\nmanner[145]: \u201cHe possessed, in a wonderful degree, the faculty of\nengaging all men to himself, by every art of address, and the most\nobsequious application to their humours, purposes, and designs. His\nfortune, his interest, nay his person, was wholly their\u2019s; and he\nwas ready to shew his attachment to them by every service, and, if\noccasion required it, by every crime. He had the most perfect dexterity\nin moulding his own nature, and shaping it into all forms. The men of\naustere morals he could gain to himself, by a well-dissembled severity;\nthe more free and libertine sort, by an unrestrained gaiety. He could\nequally adapt himself to the vivacity of youth, and to the gravity\nof old age: with men of bold spirits and factious designs, he was\nprompt, enterprizing, audacious; with the men of pleasure, he could be\nlicentious, luxurious, dissolute.\u201d\n\nWhat think ye, now, of this character? With so various and pliable a\ndisposition, could he fail of being popular? And with so total a want\nof principle, can we doubt of his being abandoned? He was, in truth,\nboth the one and the other. He was the favourite[146], and the pest of\nhis country: in a word, this man was, CATILINE.\n\nBut let us turn our thoughts from such a prodigy, and conclude only\nfrom the instance here given, that a character may be much applauded\nand very worthless; and that, to be _well spoken of by all_, in a\ncertain extent of those words, one must be, if not a Catiline, yet an\nunquestionably vicious and corrupt man.\n\nI have now gone through the several topics, I proposed to illustrate in\nthis discourse.\n\nMy more _immediate_ design was, to explain and justify the text; to\nshew that it spake not without reason when it spake, perhaps, somewhat\ndifferently from our expectations; and that our divine master had\nabundant cause to pronounce a _woe_ on those, of whom the world is so\nready to speak well.\n\nBut in doing this, I persuade myself, I have done more; and, in shewing\nthe reasons of this _woe_, have said enough to repress and mortify that\nlust of general praise, which is so fatal to our virtue, as well as\nhappiness. For what can be more likely to restrain men from this folly,\nthan to let them see, that the prize, they so ambitiously contend\nfor, would be a misfortune to them, if it could be obtained; since a\nvery general praise is rarely conferred, at best, but upon a feeble\nimperfect state of virtue; is, frequently, the reward of positive\nill-desert; and is, sometimes, the pay, that men receive for the\ngreatest _crimes_.\n\nThese considerations shew the only true praise to be that which a well\ninformed mind gives to itself. This praise is pure and unmixed; is\nonly bestowed on real merit; and is nicely proportioned to the several\ndegrees of it. It is the earnest too of every other praise, which ought\nto be precious to us. For, when conscience approves, good men and\nangels are ready to applaud: nay, when _a man\u2019s heart condemns him not,\nthen has he confidence towards God_[147].\n\nTo conclude: it is in this contention of human life, as in those games\nof which the ancient world was so fond: the success consists not in the\nacclamations of the attending multitude, but in the crown which the\nvictor receives at the hands of the appointed judge. If he obtains that\ngreat prize, it is of little moment whether the rest follow or not. The\napplause of the by-standers may add to the noise and pageantry of the\nday; but the triumph is sincere and complete without it.\n\nAs then it would be arrogance and inhumanity to reject universally the\ngood opinion of the world, so it would be folly, or something worse,\nto dote upon it. If it may be honestly obtained, it is well: if not,\nlet the friend of virtue; above all, let the follower of Jesus, console\nhimself, under the loss of it, with this reflection, \u201cThat it is no\ncertain argument of true honour and true happiness, nay, that it is a\npresumption to the contrary, to be found in the class of those, _of\nwhom all men speak well_.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXII.\n\nPREACHED FEBRUARY 6, 1774.\n\nSt. JOHN viii. 9.\n\n_Jesus said to her, Neither do I condemn thee; Go, and sin no more._\n\n\nEvery one understands the occasion of these words: _The absolution of\nthe woman taken in adultery_, says an ancient writer, _has been always\nfamous in the church_[148]: Indeed _so_ famous, that some, who know but\nlittle of the other parts of the Gospel history, pretend to be well\nacquainted with this; from which they draw conclusions so favourable to\ntheir own loose practices, that others of stricter morals have been\ndisposed to question its authenticity, and to expunge this obnoxious\npassage from the sacred books.\n\nThe attempt, indeed, has not succeeded. The obnoxious passage is\nunquestionably authentic. But what then shall we say to the narrative\nitself? How are we to expound it consistently with the known character\nof Jesus? and how are we to obviate the ill consequences which seem so\nnaturally to flow from it?\n\nThese questions will be answered by considering attentively the nature\nand circumstances of the case: from which it will appear, that this\ndecision of our Lord is founded on the highest wisdom; and, when seen\nin its true light, affords no countenance to the licentious glosses\nof one party, and needs give no alarm to the scrupulous fears and\napprehensions of another.\n\nThe fact is related by the sacred historian in these words: \u201cThe\nScribes and Pharisees brought to him a woman taken in adultery; and\nwhen they had set her in the midst, they say to him, Master, this\nwoman was taken in adultery in the very act. Now, Moses in the law\ncommanded, that such should be stoned; but what sayest thou?\u201d\n\nThus far we see there was no difficulty. A crime had been committed,\nand might be proved; and their law had appointed the punishment. Why\nthen do the Scribes and Pharisees apply to Jesus, for his judgment in\nthe case? The text tells us; for it follows immediately\u2014\u201cThis they\nsaid, tempting him, that they might have to accuse him.\u201d They came to\nhim then, not for any information about the nature of the crime, or of\nthe punishment due to it; the crime had been distinctly specified in\ntheir law (the authority of which Jesus admitted, as well as they) and\nthe sort of punishment had been distinctly specified, too: But they\ncame with the insidious design of _tempting him_; that is, of drawing\nsome answer from him, which might give them an occasion to accuse him,\neither to the people, or to the rulers of the Jewish state.\n\nIn what then did their temptation consist? Or, what crime was it, of\nwhich, by thus tempting him, they supposed they _might have to accuse\nhim_ to the Jews? The answer to this question will lead us into a\nproper view of our Lord\u2019s conduct on this occasion, and will enable\nus to form a right judgment of the manner in which he disappointed the\nmalice of his insidious tempters.\n\nWe find in the preceding chapter of St. John\u2019s Gospel, that _the Jews\nsought to kill him_, ver. 1.; and that, being alarmed at the progress\nof his doctrine among the people, _the Pharisees and chief priests\nhad even sent their officers to take him by force_, ver. 32. But this\nproject failing in the execution, by the growing favour of the people\ntowards him, and by the strange impression which the doctrine of Jesus\nhad made on those officers themselves, they found it expedient to try\nother and more indirect methods.\n\nFor this purpose, having taken a woman in adultery, they supposed\nthey had now obtained a certain method of accomplishing their designs\nagainst him. They therefore bring her to him, and say, _Master, this\nwoman was taken in adultery, in the very act. Now, Moses in the law\ncommanded us, that such should be stoned: but what sayest thou?_\n\nThey concluded, that his answer to this question must be such as would\ngive them a sure hold of him. For either it would be, that the law of\nMoses was too severe; and then, they doubted not but he would fall a\nsacrifice to the zeal of the people themselves, from whose favour to\nhim they had now the most dreadful apprehensions: or, if he justified\nthis law of Moses, and encouraged the execution of it (and this conduct\nthey had most reason to expect, from the known strictness of his life\nand doctrine, and from his professed reverence for the law), in that\ncase, they would _have to accuse him_ to the Jewish rulers, as taking\nto himself a civil and judicial character; or, rather to their Roman\nmasters, as presuming to condemn to death an offender by his own proper\nauthority; whereas _it was not lawful_ for the Sanhedrim itself, but by\nexpress leave of the Roman governour, _to put any man to death_[149].\n\nIn short, either the people themselves would kill him on the spot, as\na disparager and blasphemer of the law; or, he would be convicted of\nthat capital crime, which their rulers wanted to fasten upon him, of\nmaking himself _a king_, and so incur the punishment of rebellion to\nthe state.\n\nSuch being the profound artifice, as well as malice, of this _plot_,\nthe situation of our Lord was very critical; and nothing but that\ndivine wisdom, by which he spake, and which attended him in all\nconjunctures, could deliver him from it.\n\nLet us see, then, what that wisdom suggested to him in his present\nperilous condition.\n\nInstead of replying directly to their ensnaring question, \u201cHe stooped\ndown, and with his finger wrote on the ground, as though he heared them\nnot.\u201d His enemies, no doubt, considered this affected inattention as\na poor subterfuge; or, rather, as an evident proof of his confusion,\nand inability to avoid the snare they had laid for him; and were ready\nto exult over him, as their certain prey, now fallen into their hands.\nThey therefore repeat and press upon him their insulting question,\nurging him with much clamour to give them an immediate reply. \u201cSo\nwhen they continued asking him, as the historian proceeds, he lift up\nhimself, and said to them, He that is without sin among you, let him\nfirst cast a stone at her. And, again he stooped down and wrote on the\nground.\u201d\n\nThe divinity of this answer can never be enough admired. He eluded\nby it, at once, the two opposite snares they had laid for him:\nhe disconcerted all their hopes and triumphant expectations; and\ncarried, at the same time, by the weight of this remonstrance, and the\npower which he gave to it, trouble, confusion and dismay into their\naffrighted consciences. Without speaking a word against the law, or\ntaking to himself an authority which he had never claimed, and which\ndid not belong to him, he turned their _temptation_ on themselves;\nand instead of falling a victim to it, astonished them with the moral\nuse he had made of it, and sent them away overwhelmed with shame,\nconviction, and self-contempt. For it follows, \u201cThey which heared [this\nreply] being convicted by their own conscience, went out one by one,\nbeginning at the eldest, even to the last; and Jesus was left alone,\nand the woman standing in the midst.\u201d\n\nThis was no time, we see, for declaring his sense of the law of Moses,\nor giving his assent to the execution of it; which, upon the least\nsignification of his mind, had certainly followed from the people (such\nwas their united zeal for the law, and reverence for his opinion). His\npresent purpose and duty was to preserve himself from a captious and\nmalicious question; but in such a manner as might consist with truth\nand innocence, and even with a tender concern for the moral state and\ncondition of those questioners themselves.\n\nNo man will then expect, that, in such circumstances, he should\nexpatiate, to the by-standers, on the heinous crime of adultery,\nobjected to this unhappy woman: a point, concerning which they deserved\nnot, from any virtuous indignation they had conceived against it, which\nthey wanted not, from any ignorance they were under of its general\nnature, to be further satisfied or informed. They deserved, and they\nwanted to be made sensible of their own guilt and wickedness; and of\nthis they derived from Jesus the fullest conviction. This was the sole\npurport of our Lord\u2019s reply to them: any other had been unseasonable\nand improper; and therefore no man will now be surprized to find the\nissue of this remarkable conference in the mild dismission which he\ngives to the unhappy person, who had furnished the occasion of it.\n\n\u201cWhen Jesus had lift up himself, and saw none but the woman, he said\nto her, Woman, where are those thine accusers? Hath no man condemned\nthee? She said, No man, Lord: Jesus said to her, Neither do I condemn\nthee; go, and sin no more.\u201d\n\nThe story concludes in the very manner we should now expect from the\npreceding circumstances. The accusers of the woman had withdrawn\nthemselves; being convicted in their own minds, by the divine energy\nof Christ\u2019s reproof, of the very same crime, as some suppose, but\ncertainly of some crime of equal malignity with that, which they had\nobjected to this sinner. Their accusation had not been formed on their\nzeal for the honour of the law, or any antipathy they had conceived\nto the crime in question, but on the wicked purpose of oppressing\nan innocent man. When they failed of this end, they thought not of\ncarrying the criminal before the proper judge, or of prosecuting the\nmatter any further. To the question then which our Lord put to her,\n_hath no man condemned thee_, i. e. hath no man undertaken to see the\nsentence of the law carried into execution against thee? she answered,\n_No man, Lord_. _Neither do I_, continued Jesus, _condemn thee_: I, who\nam a private man, and have no authority to execute the law; I, who\n_came not to judge the world, but to save the world_, I presume not\nto pass the sentence of death upon thee. I leave this matter to thine\naccusers, and to the proper judge. But what my office of a divine\ninstructor of mankind requires, that I am ready to perform towards\nthee. Let me admonish thee, then, of thy great wickedness in committing\nthis act, and exhort thee to repentance and a better life for the\nfuture; GO, AND SIN NO MORE!\n\nEvery thing here is so natural and so proper, so suitable to the\ncircumstances of the case, and to the character and office of Jesus,\nthat no shadow of blame can fall upon our Lord\u2019s conduct; nor has any\nman of sense, who considers the history, the least reason to conclude\nthat any countenance is hereby given to the horrid sin of adultery.\nThe mistake (if it be purely a mistake) has arisen from the ambiguous\nsense of the words, I CONDEMN THEE NOT; which may either signify, _I\nblame thee not, or I pass not the legal sentence of death upon thee_.\nBut they cannot be here taken in the former sense, because Christ\nimmediately charges the woman with her guilt, and bids her _sin no\nmore_; Nay, they can only be taken in the latter sense, because that\nwas the sense in which her accusers had _not condemned her_; for\notherwise, by bringing her to Jesus, and by their vehement accusation\nof her, they had sufficiently testified their sense of her crime. When\nJesus therefore said, _Neither do I condemn thee_, he could only be\nunderstood to mean, \u201cNeither do I take upon me to do that which thine\naccusers have omitted to do; that is, I do not condemn thee to be put\nto death; a sentence, which however thou mayest deserve by the law of\nMoses, I have no authority to pronounce against thee.\u201d\n\nIt should further be observed, that although the turn here given by\nJesus to this famous accusation be indeed favourable to the criminal\n(and it could not be otherwise, consistently with his own safety, or\neven duty) yet it insinuates nothing against the propriety of a legal\nprosecution, nor gives the least countenance to the magistrate to\nabate of his rigid execution of the law which is entrusted to him.\nThe mixture of mercy and humanity in Christ\u2019s decision is indeed very\namiable and becoming in a private man; but had the question been,\n\u201cWhether it were not fit to prosecute so great a crime in a legal and\nregular manner,\u201d there is no reason to believe that his answer would\nhave given any check to the course of public justice.\n\nWe see then from the whole narrative, and from this comment upon it,\nThat here is no encouragement given to any man to think more slightly\nof the sin of adultery, than other passages of the Gospel, and the\nreason of the thing, authorize him to do. The sin is unquestionably of\nthe deepest dye; is one of the most flagrant that men can commit in\nsociety; and is equally and uniformly condemned by nature itself and\nby the Christian morals. If, besides _condemning_, that is, expressing\nhis abhorrence of the sin, as Jesus did, he further made an adulterous\nmultitude sensible of their iniquity and savage inhumanity in calling\nfor the sudden and tumultuary punishment of one, who had deserved no\nworse than themselves, this benefit was accessary and incidental to\nthe circumstances of the story; and, while it gives one occasion to\nadmire the address and lenity of our divine master, takes nothing\nfrom the enormity of the crime itself, or from the detestation which\nhe had of it. In short, one cannot well conceive how Jesus could have\ndone more in the case, or have expressed his displeasure at the crime\nmore plainly, unless he had become a voluntary and officious informer\nagainst the criminal; which, considering the occasion and his own\ncharacter, no man, I suppose, would think reasonable.\n\nTo conclude: if men would call to mind the purity and transcendant\nholiness of Christ\u2019s character, as evidenced in the general tenour\nof his history, and considered withall, that _never man spake as he\nspake_, they could not suspect him of giving any quarter to vice;\nand might be sure, that, if what he said on any occasion, had the\nleast appearance of looking that way, the presumption must be without\ngrounds, and could only arise from their not weighing and considering\nhis words, so replete with all _wisdom_, as well as goodness, with a\nproper attention. The case before us, we have seen, is a memorable\ninstance of this kind: and let all readers of the Gospel be taught\nby it, that to understand the Scriptures, and to cavil at them,\nare different things. Let them be warned by this example, not to\nimpute their own follies to the sacred text, which they must first\nmisinterpret, before they can abuse: And, above all, let them take\nheed how they _turn the Grace of God into licentiousness_; that is,\nhow they seek to justify to themselves, or even palliate, their own\ncorruptions, by their loose and negligent, if not perverse, glosses\non the word of God; on that WORD, by which they must stand or fall;\nand which, like the divine Author of it, will surely in the end _be\njustified in_ all _its sayings, and be clear when it is judged_[150].\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXIII.\n\nPREACHED MARCH 1, 1772.\n\nSt. MATTHEW, xi. 29.\n\n_Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart: And ye shall find rest\nunto your souls._\n\n\nThe moral quality recommended in the text, was little known and less\nesteemed[151] in the heathen world. Not that _humility_, in the\nChristian sense of the word; hath no foundation in natural reason: but\nheathen practice gave no countenance to this Virtue, and the pride of\nheathen philosophy would make no acquaintance with her.\n\nShe was left then to be acknowledged, for the first time, by Jesus of\nNazareth, who knew the worth of this modest stranger; and therefore, as\nwe see, recommends her to the notice and familiarity of his disciples\nin the most emphatic terms.\n\nOne would wonder how a virtue, so advantageously introduced into\nthe Christian world, should be so much neglected by those who call\nthemselves of it. But the reason is not difficult to be explained.\n\nI. It was seen fit, for the ends of human virtue, that, in moulding\nthe constitution of our common nature, a considerable degree of what\nmay be called _a generous pride_, should be infused into it. Man,\nconsidered in one view, touches on the brutal creation; in another, he\nclaims an affinity with God himself. To sustain this nobler part of his\ncomposition, the subject and source of all his diviner qualities, the\nadorable wisdom of the Creator saw good to implant in him a conscious\nsense of worth and dignity; that so a just self-esteem might erect his\nthoughts and endeavours, and keep him from submitting too easily to\nwhat the baser half of his nature might exact from him.\n\nThus far INSTINCT goes: and, as yet, there is no blame. But then to\nmoderate this instinct, (a blind power of itself, and capable of great\nexcesses) to circumscribe its bounds, and direct its energies to their\ntrue end, REASON, a much higher faculty, was conferred on man; and his\nduty, thenceforth, was to give the reins to the natural sentiment, only\nso far as this supreme arbitress of human life allowed.\n\nAnd hence his corruption and misery took its rise. He felt the\n_instinct_ draw powerfully; and he would not take, or would not be at\nthe pains to ask, the advice of _reason_, who was ready to tell him how\nfar he might yield to it.\n\nThis wilfulness, or negligence, broke the balance of his moral\nnature; till _reason_, in this, as in so many other instances, was\nlittle regarded; and the instinctive sentiment of _self-esteem_,\nlong since degenerated into lawless pride, was left to domineer as\nit would; universally, in the Pagan world, and, though checked by\nthis seasonable admonition of our great Master, too generally in the\nChristian.\n\nThis is the true account of the first and fundamental reason, which\nmakes _humility_ so rare a virtue, and of so difficult practice, even\namong the disciples of Jesus.\n\nII. A _second_ reason is almost as extensive as the former, because\nfounded upon it; I mean, the power of _habit and institution_.\n\nThe bias of our minds towards a just self-esteem, not properly\ndirected, presently became _pride_: and pride, from being a general,\nwas easily mistaken for a _natural_ principle; which would then, of\ncourse, be unconfined in its operation, and spread its influence\nthrough every quarter of human life.\n\nHence our earliest education is tinctured with this vicious\nself-esteem, and all our subsequent institutions are infected with it.\nIt is cherished in the schools, under the name of emulation; and in the\nworld at large, under that of ambition. Either sex, every age, every\ncondition, is governed by it. The female world are called upon to value\nthemselves; and the male world to assert their own dignity. The young\nare applauded for shewing signs of spirit; and the old must vindicate\nthemselves from contempt. The lower ranks of men are not to be trampled\nupon; and the higher, not to be affronted. Our camps encourage it, as\nthe spring of courage: and our courts, as the source of honour.\n\nThus pride predominates every where: and even the moralist or preacher,\nwho would give some check to this principle, is thought to have an\nabject mind himself, or not to know that world, which he pretends to\ninform and regulate.\n\nWhat wonder then that this impatient and tyrannical passion, which\nhas general custom, and therefore claims to have reason, on her side,\nshould yield with reluctance even to the authority of religion?\n\nIII. _Another_ cause, which contributes to the same effect, a partial\none indeed, but of no small efficacy, where it prevails, is, perhaps,\nthe _Gothic principle of honour_, deeply interwoven with most of our\ncivil constitutions: a principle, in itself not friendly to Christian\nhumility; but, as confederated with the other two principles before\nmentioned, what can it do but inflame them both, and give an infinite\nforce to all their operations?\n\nIn these three considerations then, we have the true account and\nhistory of _pride_, the bane of civil life, and the disgrace of our\nmoral nature. It springs, first, from the _natural sentiment_, easily\nindulged too far: it is, next, fostered by _general habit_; and, in the\nend, made sacred by _fashion_. Thus, its tyranny grew up, and is now\nso complete, that _lowliness of mind_ is ill looked upon even in the\nChristian world; and her offspring, _meekness_, (the more provoking of\nthe two, as being that virtue drawn forth into outward act) seems in a\nway to be fairly dismissed from it.\n\nIt would hardly serve to reinstate these despised virtues in their\npristine honours, to tell of their natures and conditions, to define\ntheir properties, and deliver the grounds of reason on which their\npretensions are founded. Cold, abstracted philosophy, would do but\nlittle in this service. Besides, few persons want to be informed\nwhat humility is, or how becoming such a creature as man. And no\ninformations, in the general way of reasoning, could be given with so\nmuch precision, but that a willing mind might find a way to mistake or\npervert them.\n\n\u2019Tis well then that the text supplies another method of combating the\nuniversal pride of mankind. It calls upon us to contemplate, in the\nperson of Jesus, the true and living form of _humility_; and holds out\na solid, and suitable reward to the votaries of this divine virtue.\nWould ye know what it is to be _meek and lowly in heart? Learn of\nJesus._ Do ye ask for what end ye should learn this lesson of him? the\nanswer is direct and satisfactory, _Ye shall find rest to your souls_.\nThese topics, then, must employ what remains of this discourse.\n\nI. The particulars of Christ\u2019s humility may be seen at large in the\nhistory of his life. But they are summed up by the Apostle Paul in few\nwords.\n\n_Let this mind be in you_, says he to the Philippians, _which was also\nin Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it no robbery\nto be equal with God_ [i. e. was in no haste to seize upon and assert\nhis right of equality with him]; _but made himself of no reputation,\nand took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness\nof man; and being found in fashion, as a man, he humbled himself, and\nbecame obedient to death, even the death of the cross_[152].\n\nWho, that hears these words, can have a doubt concerning the nature\nof humility, or concerning the duties of it? If heaven stooped to\nearth; if Jesus descended from the dignity, I do not say of an angel,\nor an archangel, but of God himself, to the abject state of man; if\nhe humbled himself to the lowest condition of that state; veiled all\nhis glories in the form of a servant; in that form administered to our\ninfirmities and necessities; bore all the scorn, the contradiction,\nthe contumely of injurious men; and even submitted himself to death,\nthe ignominious death of the cross, for their sake\u2014If _this mind was\nin Christ Jesus_, who but must see, that the greatest of mankind may\nwell descend from all his real or fancied eminence, for the service of\nhis brother? may easily forego the little advantage, which his birth,\nhis rank, his wealth, his learning, or his parts, may seem to give him\nover his fellows, when an act of charity is to be performed by him;\nwhen the distresses, the infirmities, nay the vices of humanity, may be\nrelieved, and covered, and corrected, by such condescension? To stoop\nfor such ends is almost pride itself: and to emulate such a pattern, is\nscarce humility, but glory.\n\nNor think, that this humility requires of you more than reason\nrequires. You may suppress your pride, without giving up necessary\nself-defence. Ye may be _meek and lowly in heart_, without being\nunjust to yourselves, or imprudent. When your essential interests are\nconcerned, ye may assert them with firmness, and even with spirit, in\nall ways, which good sense allows, or true wisdom recommends. But let\nnot every petty injury, much less any fancied injury, be presently\navenged; let not little neglects or discourtesies be hastily resented;\noverlook many injuries, if not considerable; nay, and many considerable\ninjuries, if they be but tolerable. Think not that your dignity will\nsuffer by such connivance. The true dignity of man, is the performance\nof his duty. Or, if some indignity be sustained, consider on whose\naccount, and by whose command ye suffer it. Consider, that He, whose\ndignity was infinitely above yours, submitted to _every_ indignity, and\nfor your sake. The authority of your divine Master is nothing, if it\ncannot bind you in any instance to bear his _yoke_: And to what end is\nthe example of your divine Saviour set before you, if ye resolve, on\nno account, to _take up your cross and follow him_[153]?\n\nBut, because our compassionate Lord saw how uneasy this precept would\nbe to the indulged and inveterate pride of his followers, he has\ntherefore condescended to assure them that their obedience to it will,\neven in this world, be attended with a suitable reward. _Ye shall find\nrest to your souls._ And this\n\nII. Is the other topic, which I engaged to insist upon, in this\ndiscourse.\n\nThe great objection to the virtues of _meekness and humility_, is, that\nthe practice of them will put us to some present pain in resisting the\nimpulse of our disordered passions. It will do so. Nature prompts us to\nrepel an injury; and that nature, vitiated and depraved, is in haste to\nrepel it with indignation, and even fury. To give way to the impetuous\nsentiment, would give us immediate ease; and to suppress it, till the\npractice becomes habitual, will cost us some throws and agitation of\nmind. To counteract this instant disquiet, a recompence is proposed,\nexactly suited to the trial. Our mind is discomposed, for the instant,\nby the struggle we have to make with the incensed passion: When that is\nover, it settles again into a full and permanent tranquillity. _We find\nrest_, as the text speaks, _to our souls_: we have the purest peace\nwithin, and have no disturbance of it to apprehend, from without.\n\n1. The uneasiness which _pride_ engenders, receives, as I said, some\npresent relief, from the free course of that passion. But see the\nconsequence of giving way to it. Disgust, remorse, fear, and hate,\nsucceed to the indulgence of this fiery sentiment, I mean, when it\nproceeds so far as to acts of revenge. But, if it stop short of this\nextreme, still the mind, by nourishing its resentments, and brooding\nover the idea of a supposed indignity, hurts its own peace; grows sore\nand fretful, and suspicious; and, though it be somewhat flattered\nby the first tumultuous effort of its indignation, which looks like\ncourage and high spirit; yet, the briskness of this sensation soon goes\noff, and flattens into a sullen gloom of thought, the bane of every\nselfish, as well as social enjoyment.\n\nIt is much otherwise with the _meek and lowly in heart_. They never\nretaliate injuries, and seldom resent them. They either feel not\nthe stroke of them; or, if they do, the wound is instantly healed\nby the balsamic virtue of their own minds. But, indeed, a man, well\ndisciplined in the school of humility, receives but few injuries, for\nhe _suspects_ none; it being, I think, true, that, for one real injury\ndone us by others, a hundred such things, as we call by that name, are\nonly bred in our own captious and distempered imaginations. And then,\nfor those few injuries which he actually receives, they are easily\nslighted or forgotten by him; because he sees them only in their true\nshape and size, and not as magnified by an extravagant opinion of his\nown worth, and as extravagant a contempt of the aggressor. He knows\nhis own infirmities, and can allow for those of other men. If they are\npetulant or unjust, he, perhaps, has been inobservant or imprudent:\nbesides, he never thought himself entitled to any special respect, and\ntherefore wonders the less, if no great ceremony has been used towards\nhim. To these suggestions of humanity, he adds those of _religion_.\nHe knows what his Master enjoins, and he remembers on what terms the\ninjunction is pressed upon him. And thus, though the indignity seem\ngreat, he easily excuses one half of it, and forgives the other. The\nissue is, that he finds _rest_ in his own soul, which the proud man\nnever does: so that, as to internal peace, the advantage is clearly on\nthe side of meekness and humility. But then,\n\n2. As to _external peace_, the matter may be thought more\nproblematical. \u201cFor that softness of mind, which religion calls\n_humility_, invites, it is said, and multiplies injuries. Forgive one\ninsult, and you draw upon you a hundred more so that, if humility be\na virtue, it is never likely to be out of breath for want of exercise\nand employment. In a word, the world is so base, that there is no\nkeeping it in respect, but by _fear_: and how is that needful sentiment\nto be impressed on the minds of injurious men, in those numberless\ncases which civil justice cannot reach, but by a quick resentment and\npersonal high spirit?\u201d\n\nSuch is the language of those who have learned their ethics of the\nworld, and not of the Gospel. But let us see what there is in the\nallegation itself.\n\n_To connive at one indignity, is_, they say, _the ready way to invite\nanother_. It may be so, in some rare cases, when we have to do with\nsingularly base and ungenerous natures; but even then, I think,\nchiefly, if not solely, when that connivance is joined with imprudence\nor folly: and then it is not humility should bear the blame, but our\nown indiscretion. Besides, the question is concerning a general rule\nof conduct: and this rule may be a fit and reasonable one, though it\nadmit, as most rules do, of some exceptions.\n\nAgain, though a wise and good man will frequently suppress, and always\nmoderate resentment, yet neither reason nor the religion of Jesus\nrequires, that in no case whatsoever should we be actuated by that\nprinciple. The principle itself, as I have shewn, is a natural one, and\nunder due restraint may serve to good purposes; one of which, perhaps,\nis to give check to overbearing insolence and oppression, I mean when\nit rises to a certain degree and exceeds certain bounds. Even our\nblessed Lord, who was meekness itself, thought fit on some occasions to\nexpress a very strong resentment: as, when he upbraided the Pharisees\nin no gentle terms, but, in a just indignation at their malice, went so\nfar as to brand them with the bitter names of _vipers and serpents_,\nand to menace them with the flames of _hell_[154]. So that meekness\nand resentment are not absolutely incompatible; though the danger of\nexceeding in this last quality is so great, that the general rule both\nof reason and Christianity, is to cultivate meekness in ourselves, and\nto restrain our resentments.\n\n\u201cBut, if exceptions be allowed in any case, the rule, it will be said,\nbecomes of no use; for that pride and passion will find an exception in\nevery case.\u201d If they should, they must answer for themselves. In all\nmoral matters, something, nay much, must be left to the fairness and\nhonesty of the mind. Without this principle, the plainest rule of life\nmay be evaded or abused: and with it, even that hard saying, of _loving\nour enemies_, which is near of kin to this of _meekness_, is easily\nunderstood, and may be reasonably applied.\n\n\u201cStill, the rule, it is said, must be an improper one; for that the\nworld, not some few persons, but mankind in general, are only to\nbe kept in order by _force and fear_.\u201d So far as there is truth in\nthis observation, the civil sword, in every country, supplies that\nneedful restraint. But in the general commerce between man and man,\nin all offices of civility and society, that is, in cases where the\nstronger passions and more important interests of men are not directly\nconcerned, as they are in what relates to property and power, the\nobservation is clearly not true. Here, pride is the predominant vice of\nmankind. And pride is naturally softened and disarmed by placability\nand meekness. The good humour of the world is easily and most\neffectually maintained by mutual concessions and reciprocal civilities:\nfor pride, having a mixture of generosity in it, yields to these,\nand loses all the fierceness of its nature. So that they, who bring\nthis charge against the world, calumniate their kind, and either shew\nthat they have kept ill company; or, as I rather suspect, have never\ntried the experiment, which they say is so hopeless. Let them learn to\nthink more favourably, that is, more justly, of human nature. We are\npassionate, infirm creatures, indeed; but still men, and not fiends.\nLet them set the example of that _humility_, which they affect to\nthink so unpromising a guard against injuries: and I dare assure them\nthey will generally find themselves better defended by it, than by any\nresentment or high spirit which they can possibly exert.\n\nLastly, I would observe, that, if in some rare instances, and\nin places, especially, where fashion has made resentment highly\ncreditable, this practice be found inconvenient, the rule is not to\nbe set aside on that account. The authority of the legislator should\nexact obedience to it; and the inconvenience will be amply compensated\nby other considerations. We shall have the merit of testifying the\nsincerity of our religion, by giving to God and man so eminent a proof\nof it; and, in due time, we shall have our reward.\n\nTo conclude: in this and all other cases, we shall do well to _learn of\nJesus, who was meek and lowly in heart_. His authority, his example,\nhis affectionate call upon us in the words of the text, are powerful\nmotives to the practice of this duty. And for the rest, we have seen,\nthat it leads directly to _peace and quiet_, in our intercourse with\neach other; or, if the perverseness of man should sometimes disappoint\nus in this expectation, that it will certainly and infallibly _yield\nrest to our own souls_.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXIV.\n\nPREACHED APRIL 30, 1769.\n\nLUKE xvi. 14.\n\n_And the Pharisees also, who were covetous, heard all those things, and\nthey derided him._\n\n\nBut what then were _those things_ which our Lord had said in the\nhearing of the Pharisees, and for which they derided him?\n\nHad he been inveighing against the vice of covetousness in any\nunreasonable manner? Had he carried the opposite virtue to an extreme,\nas some moralists have done? Had he told the Pharisees that the\npossession, and much more the enjoyment of riches, was, universally,\nand under all circumstances, unlawful? Had he pressed it as a matter\nof conscience upon them, to divest themselves of their wealth, and to\nembrace an absolute and voluntary poverty? Had he even gone so far as\nto advise these Pharisees, as he once did a rich man, to _sell what\nthey had and give it to the poor, and then take up the cross and follow\nhim_[155]?\n\nAlas, no. He had been saying none of _these things_. He did not think\nwell enough of the Pharisees to give this last counsel of exalted\ncharity to _them_; a counsel, which he had addressed to one whom he\nloved, to one who was a virtuous man as well as rich, and who wanted\nonly this _one thing_, to make him perfect.\n\nAnd as for those other precepts, which would have implied, that riches\nwere unlawful in themselves, and the possession of them a crime, he was\ntoo sober a moralist to address a lecture of this sort to any of his\nhearers.\n\nThe truth is, he had only been advising rich men to employ their\nwealth in such a way as should turn to the best account, to _make\nthemselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness_; that is, such\nfriends, as should be able to repay them with interest, and, when these\nhouses of clay are overturned, should _receive them into everlasting\nhabitations_: and, to give this advice the greater weight with them,\nhe had concluded his discourse with saying, that such conduct was even\nnecessary, if they aspired to this reward, for that they _could not\nserve God and mammon_; that is, they could not serve _God_ acceptably,\nunless they withdrew their service from _mammon_ in all those cases, in\nwhich the commands of two such different masters interfered with each\nother.\n\nSuch, and so reasonable was the doctrine which Jesus had been\ndelivering to the Pharisees. And how then could it provoke their\n_derision_?\n\nThe text answers this question\u2014THEY WERE COVETOUS. Their life\nwas a contradiction to this doctrine, and therefore they found it\nunreasonable, and even ridiculous.\n\nNor let it be thought, that this illusion is peculiar to avarice. It is\nfamiliar to vice of every kind, to scorn reproof; to make light of the\ndoctrine, which condemns it; and, when it cannot confute, to deride the\nteacher.\n\nSo that the text affords this general observation, \u201cThat, when the\nheart is corrupted by any vice, it naturally breeds a disposition to\nunreasonable mirth and ridicule.\u201d\n\nAnd, because this levity of mind, in its turn, corrupts the heart still\nfurther, it may be of use to open to you, more particularly, _the\nsources of irreligious scorn_; to let you see from how base an origin\nit springs; how it rises, indeed, on the subversion of every principle,\nby which a virtuous man is governed, and by which there is hope that a\nvicious man may be reclaimed.\n\nNow ye will easily apprehend how the sinner comes to cultivate in\nhimself this miserable talent, if ye reflect; _how much he is concerned\nto avoid the_ EVIDENCE _of moral truth; how insensible he chuses to be\nto the_ DIFFERENCES _of moral sentiment; how studiously he would keep\nout of sight the_ CONSEQUENCES _of moral action_: And if ye consider,\nwithal, how well adapted _the way of ridicule_ is, to answer all these\npurposes.\n\nI. FIRST, then, the sinner is much disposed to withhold his attention\nfrom _the evidence of moral truth_; and the way of ridicule favours\nthis bad disposition.\n\nWhen a moral lesson is addressed to us, it is but a common piece of\nrespect we owe the teacher of it, and indeed ourselves, to see what the\nideas are of which the doctrine is made up; to consider whether there\nbe a proper coherence between those ideas; whether what is affirmed in\nthe proposition be consonant to truth and reason, or not. If upon this\nenquiry we find that the affirmation is well founded, either from our\nimmediate perception of the dependency between the ideas themselves,\nor from the evidence of some remoter principle, with which it is\nduly connected, we admit it thenceforth as a truth, and are obliged,\nif we would act in a reasonable manner, to pay it that regard which\nmay be due to its importance. This is the duty of a rational hearer\nin the school of instruction: and this, the process of the mind, in\ndischarging that duty. But this work of the understanding, it is plain,\nrequires attention and seriousness; _attention_, to apprehend the\nmeaning of the proposition delivered to us, and _seriousness_, to judge\nof its truth and moment.\n\nIndeed, if the result of our enquiry be, that the proposition is\nunmeaning, or false, or frivolous, we of course reject it, and,\nperhaps, with some contempt: but then this contempt is subsequent to\nthe inquiry, and would itself be ridiculous, if it went before it.\n\nIt is apparent, then, what reason demands in the case. But the\nprecipitancy of the mind is such, that it often concludes before it\nunderstands, and, what is worse, contemns what it has not examined.\nThis last folly is more especially chargeable on those who are under\nthe influence of some inveterate prejudice, or prevailing passion.\nFor, when the moral instruction pressed upon us, directly opposes a\nprinciple we will not part with, or contradicts an inclination we\nresolve to cherish, the very repugnancy of the doctrine to our notions\nor humours creates disgust: and then, to spare ourselves the trouble of\ninquiry, or to countenance the hasty persuasion that we have no need to\ninquire at all, we very naturally express that disgust in contempt and\nridicule.\n\nI explain myself by the instance in the text, Jesus had said, _Ye\ncannot serve God and mammon_. The Pharisees, who heard him say this,\nhad taken their resolution, _to serve mammon_; and they had, it\nseems, a principle of their own, on which they presumed to satisfy\nthemselves, that they, likewise, _served God_. Now, this aphorism of\nour Lord coming against these prejudices, they had not the patience to\nconsider what truth there was in the assertion; what it was _to serve\nGod_, and what it was _to serve mammon_; and what inconsistency there\nwas between these two services. This way of inquiry, which reason\nprescribes, was too slow for these impatient spirits; and, besides, was\ncontrary to their fixed purpose of adhering, to their old principles\nand practices. They therefore take a shorter method of setting aside\nthe obnoxious proposition. They conclude hastily, that their service\nof mammon was, some how or other, made consistent with their service\nof God, by virtue of their _long prayers_. And, for the rest, they\ncondescend not to reason upon the point at all: to get quit of this\ntrouble, or rather, to conceal from themselves, if possible, the\ndeformity of their practice, they slur an important lesson over with\nan air of negligent raillery, and think it sufficient to _deride_ the\nteacher of it.\n\nYe see then how naturally it comes to pass that the way of ridicule is\ntaken up by the sinner, to avoid the trouble and confusion which must\nneeds arise from a serious attention to the evidence of moral truth.\n\nII. It serves equally in the next place, to sooth and flatter his\ncorruption, by keeping him insensible, as he would chuse to be, to _the\ndifferences of moral sentiment_.\n\nThe divine wisdom has so wonderfully contrived human nature, that\nthere needs little more in moral matters, than plainly and clearly to\nrepresent any instruction to the mind, in order to procure its assent\nto it. Whatever the instruction be, whether it affirm this conduct to\nbe virtuous, or that vicious, if the mind be in its natural state,\nit more than sees, it feels, the truth or falshood of it. The appeal\nlies directly to the heart, and to certain corresponding sentiments\nof right and wrong, instantly and unavoidably excited by the moral\nproposition[156].\n\nIt is true, the vivacity of these sentiments may be much weakened by\nhabits of vice; but they must grow into a great inveteracy indeed,\nbefore they can altogether extinguish the natural perception. The\nonly way to prevent this sensibility from taking place in a mind, not\nperfectly abandoned, is to keep the moral truth itself out of sight;\nor, which comes to the same thing, to misrepresent it. For, being\nthen not taken for what it is, but for something else, it is the same\nthing as if the truth itself had not been proposed to us. But now this\npower of misrepresentation is that faculty in which ridicule excells.\nNothing is easier for it than to distort a reasonable proposition, or\nto throw some false light of the fancy upon it. The soberest truth is\nthen travestied into an apparent falshood; and, instead of exciting\nthe moral sentiment which properly belongs to it, only serves, under\nthis disguise, to provoke the scorner\u2019s mirth on a phantom of his own\nraising.\n\nThe instance in the text will again illustrate this observation.\n\nHad the Pharisees seen, that, _to serve God_ implies an universal\nobedience to all his laws, and that, _to serve mammon_ implies an equal\nsubmission to all the maxims of the world, and that these laws and\nthese maxims are, in numberless cases, directly contrary to each other,\nthey would then have seen our Lord\u2019s observation in its true light;\nand they could not have helped feeling the propriety of the conduct\nrecommended to them. But the sentiments arising out of this truth,\nwould have given no small disturbance to men, who were determined to\nact in defiance of them. To avoid this inconvenience, they had only\nto put a false gloss on the words of Jesus; to suppose, for instance,\nthat by serving God was meant, to _make long prayers_, and by serving\nmammon, to make a _reasonable provision for their families_; and,\nthen, where was the inconsistency of two such services? In this way\nof understanding the text, nothing is easier than _to serve God and\nmammon_. And thus, by substituting a proposition of their own, in the\nroom of that which he had delivered, they escape from his reproof, and\neven find means to divert themselves with it.\n\nIII. But, lastly, a vicious man is not more concerned to obscure the\nevidence of moral truth, and to suppress in himself the differences of\nmoral sentiment, than he is to keep out of sight _the consequences of\nmoral action_: and what so likely as ridicule to befriend him also in\nthis project.\n\nWhen the sinner looks forward into the effects of a vicious life, he\nsees so much misery springing up before him, even in this world, and\nso dreadful a recompence reserved for him in another, that the prospect\nmust needs be painful to him. He has his choice, indeed, whether to\nstop, or proceed, in his evil course; but, if he resolve to proceed,\none cannot think it strange that he should strive to forget, both what\nhe is about, and whither he is going. And, if other expedients fail\nhim, he very naturally takes refuge in a forced intemperate pleasantry.\nFor the very effort to be witty occupies his attention, and gratifies\nhis vanity. A little crackling mirth, besides, diverts and entertains\nhim; and, though his case will not bear reasoning upon, yet a lively\njest shall pass upon others, and sometimes upon himself, for the\nsoundest reason.\n\nThis is the true account of that disposition to ridicule, which the\nworld so commonly observes in bad men, and sometimes mistakes for\nan argument of their tranquillity, when it is, in truth, an evident\nsymptom of their distress. For they would forget themselves, in this\nnoisy mirth; just as children laugh out, to keep up their spirits in\nthe dark.\n\nLet me alledge the case in the text once more, to exemplify this\nremark.\n\nWhen our Lord reproved the Pharisees for their covetousness, and\nadmonished them how impossible it was _to serve God and mammon_, the\nweight of this remonstrance should, in all reason, have engaged their\nserious attention: and then they would have seen how criminal their\nconduct was, in _devouring widows houses_, while yet they pretended a\nzeal for _the house of God_; and being led by the principles of their\nsect to admit a future existence, it was natural for them, under this\nconviction, to expect the just vengeance of their crimes.\n\nBut vice had made them ingenious, and taught them how to elude this\ndreadful conclusion. They represented to themselves their reprover in a\nridiculous light; probably as one of those moralists, who know nothing\nof the world, and outrage truth and reason in their censures of it: or,\nthey affected to see him in this light, in order to break the force of\nhis remonstrance, and insinuate to the by-standers, that it merited no\nother confutation than that of neglect. They did, then, as vicious men\nare wont to do; they resolved not to consider the consequences of their\nown conduct; and supported themselves in this resolution by _deriding_\nthe person, who, in charity, would have led them to their duty.\n\nThus it appears how naturally the way of ridicule is employed by those\nwho determine not to comply with the rules of reason and religion. They\nare solicitous to keep _the evidence of moral truth_ from pressing too\nclosely upon them: they would confound and obliterate, if they could,\n_the differences of moral sentiment_: they would overlook, if possible,\nthe _consequences of moral action_: and nothing promises so fair to\nset them at ease, in these three respects, as to cultivate that turn\nof mind, which obscures truth, hardens the heart, and stupifies the\nunderstanding. For such is the proper effect of dissolute mirth; the\nmortal foe to reason, virtue, and to common prudence.\n\nI have shewn you this very clearly in the case of one vice, the vice of\navarice, as exemplified by the Pharisees in the text. But, as I said,\nevery other vice is equally disingenuous, and for the same reason. Tell\nthe ambitious man, in the language of Solomon, that _by humility and\nthe fear of the Lord, cometh honour_[157]; and he will loudly deride\nhis instructor: or, tell the voluptuous man, in the language of St.\nPaul, _that he, who liveth in pleasure, is dead while he liveth_[158];\nand you may certainly expect the same treatment.\n\nIt is not, that vague and general invectives against vice will always\nbe thus received: but let the reproof, as that in the text, be pressing\nand poignant, let it _come home to men\u2019s bosoms_, and penetrate, by\nits force and truth, the inmost foldings and recesses of conscience,\nand see if the man, who is touched by your reproof, and yet will not\nbe reclaimed by it; see, I say, if he be not carried, by a sort of\ninstinct, to repel your charitable pains with scorn and mockery. Had\nJesus instructed the Pharisees _to pray and fast often_; or had he\nexhorted them, in general terms, to keep the law and to serve God; they\nhad probably given him the hearing with much apparent composure: but\nwhen he spoke against _serving mammon_, whom they idolized: and still\nmore, when he told these hypocritical worldlings, that their service of\nmammon did not, and could not consist with God\u2019s service, to which they\nso much pretended; then it was that they betook themselves to their\narms: they _heared these things_, and because _they were covetous_,\nthey _derided_ their teacher.\n\nIf this be a just picture of human nature, it may let us see how poor\na talent that of ridicule is, both in its origin, and application.\nFor, when employed in moral and religious matters, we may certainly\npronounce of it, That it springs from vice, and means nothing else but\nthe support of it. Should not the scorner himself, then, reflect of\nwhat every other man sees, \u201cThat his mirth implies guilt, and that he\nonly laughs, because he dares not be serious?\u201d\n\nBut Solomon[159] has long since read the destiny of him, who would\nreprove men of this character. It will be to better purpose, therefore,\nto warn the young and unexperienced against the contagion of vicious\nscorn; by which many have been corrupted, on whom vice itself, in its\nown proper form, would have made no impression. For the modesty of\nvirtue too easily concludes, that what is much ridiculed must, itself,\nbe ridiculous: and, when this conclusion is taken up, reflexion many\ntimes comes too late to correct the mischiefs of it. Let those, then,\nwho have not yet seated themselves _in the chair of the scorner_,\nconsider, that ridicule is but the last effort of baffled vice to keep\nitself in countenance; that it betrays a corrupt turn of mind, and\nonly serves to promote that corruption. Let them understand, that this\nfaculty is no argument of superior sense, rarely of superior wit; and\nthat it proves nothing but the profligacy, or the folly of him, who\naffects to be distinguished by it. Let them, in a word, reflect, that\nvirtue and reason love to be, and can afford to be, serious: but that\nvice and folly are undone, if they let go their favourite habit of\nscorn and derision.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXV.\n\nPREACHED JUNE 25, 1775.\n\nECCLESIASTES v. 10.\n\n_He that loveth silver, shall not be satisfied with silver._\n\n\nIf a preacher on these words should set himself to declaim against\nsilver, he would probably be but ill-heared, and would certainly go\nbeside the meaning of his text.\n\nSILVER (or gold) is only an instrument of exchange; a sign of the\nprice which things bear in the commerce of life. This instrument is\nof the most necessary use in society. Without it, there would be no\nconvenience of living, no supply of our mutual wants, no industry, no\ncivility, I had almost said, no virtue among men.\n\nThe author of the text was clearly of this mind; since, on many\noccasions, he makes wealth the reward of wisdom, and poverty, of folly;\nand since he laboured all his life, and with suitable success, to\nmultiply gold and silver in his dominions, beyond the example of all\nformer, and indeed succeeding, kings of the Jewish state.\n\nThe precious metals, then, (both for the reason of the thing, and the\nauthority of Solomon) shall preserve their lustre unsullied, and their\nhonours unimpaired by me. Poets and satirists have, indeed, execrated\nthose, who tore the entrails of the earth for them; and, provoked by\nthe general abuse of them, have seemed willing that they should be sent\nback to their beds again. But sober moralists hold no such language;\nand are content that they remain above ground, and shine out in the\nface of the sun.\n\nStill (for I come now to the true meaning of my text) good and useful\nthings may be OVER-RATED, or MISAPPLIED; and, in either way, may\nbecome hurtful to us. _He, that_, in the emphatic language of the\npreacher, LOVETH _silver_, certainly offends in one of these ways, and\nprobably in both: and, when he does so, it will be easy to make good\nthe royal denunciation\u2014that _he shall not be_ SATISFIED _with it_.\n\n1. Now, wealth is surely over-rated, when, instead of regarding it\nonly as the means of procuring a reasonable enjoyment of our lives, we\ndote upon it for its own sake, and make it the end, or chief object of\nour pursuits: when we sacrifice, not only ease and leisure, (which,\nthough valuable things, are often well recompensed by the pleasures\nof industry and activity), but health and life to it: when we _grieve\nnature_[160], to gratify this fantastic passion; and give up the social\npleasures, the true pleasures of humanity, for the sordid satisfaction\nof seeing ourselves possessed of an abundance, which we never mean\nto enjoy: above all, when we purchase wealth at the expence of our\ninnocence; when we prefer it to a good name, and a clear conscience;\nwhen we suffer it to interfere with our most important concerns, those\nof piety and religion; and when, for the sake of it, we are contented\nto forego the noblest hopes, the support and glory of our nature, the\nhopes of happiness in a future state.\n\nWhen the false glitter of _silver_ (_of which the owner_, as Solomon\nsays, _has_, and proposes to himself, _no other good, but that of\nbeholding it with his eyes_[161]) imposes upon us at this rate, how\nshould our reasonable nature find any true or solid _satisfaction_ in\nit!\n\n\u201cBut the mere act of acquiring and accumulating wealth is, it will be\nsaid, the miser\u2019s pleasure, of which himself, and no other, is the\nproper judge; and a certain confused notion of the uses, to which\nit may serve, though he never actually puts it to any, is enough to\njustify his pursuit of it.\u201d\n\nBe it so, then: But is there no better pleasure for him to aim at,\nand which he loses by following this; and although _a man\u2019s ways_,\nwe are told, _be right in his own eyes_[162]; yet, is there no\ndifference in them, and do not some of them lead through much trouble\nto disappointment and _death_? And is there not a presumption, a\ncertainty, that the way of the _miser_ is of this sort? when his\nvery name may admonish him of the light in which the common sense of\nmankind regards his pursuit of untasted opulence; and when he finds, by\nexperience, that his unnatural appetite for it is always encreasing, be\nthe plenty never so great which is set before him. But,\n\n2. Wealth may be MISAPPLIED, as well as over-rated, and generally is\nso, in the most offensive manner, by those, who think there are no\npleasures, which it cannot command. For, although the miser has the\nworse name in the world, yet the spendthrift (since a certain alliance,\nwhich has taken place between luxury and avarice) possibly deserves our\nindignation more.\n\nBut ye shall judge for yourselves. Are not riches, let me ask, sadly\nmisapplied, when, after having been pursued and seized upon, with\nmore than a miser\u2019s fury, they are suddenly let go again, on all the\nwings[163] of prodigality and folly? which scatter their precious load,\nnot on modest merit, or virtuous industry, or suffering innocence,\nbut on the flatterers of pride, the retainers of pomp, the panders of\npleasure; in a word, on those miscreants, who imped these harpies, and\nsent them forth, for the annoyance of mankind.\n\nAnd well are these spendthrifts repaid for their good service.\nFor this profusion brings on more pains and penalties, than I am\nable to express; disappointment, regret, disgust, and infamy; and\nnot uncommonly, in the train of these, that tremendous spectre to\na voluptuous man, _Poverty_: or, if the source, which feeds this\nwhirlpool of riotous expence, be yet unexhausted, and flow copiously,\nthese waters have that baleful quality, that they inflame, instead\nof quenching, the drinker\u2019s thirst. All his natural appetites grow\nnice and delicate; and ten thousand artificial ones are created, and\nbecome more vexatious to him, than any that are of nature\u2019s growth.\nThe idolater of riches, the infatuated lover of _silver_, now finds,\nthat the power he serves, the mistress he adores, yields him no other\nfruit of all his assiduity, but self-abhorrence and distraction; the\nloss of all virtuous feelings; and numberless clamorous desires, which\ngive him no truce of their importunity, and are incapable, by any\ngratification, of being quieted and assuaged.\n\nSo true is the observation, that _he, who, loveth silver, shall not be\nsatisfied with silver_! For, either the passion grows upon us, when the\nobject is not enjoyed; or, if it be, a new force is given to it, and a\nlegion of other passions, as impatient and unmanageable as the original\none, start up out of the enjoyment itself.\n\nI know the lovers of money are not easily made sensible of this fatal\nalternative. They think, that this, or that sum, will fill[164] all\ntheir wishes, and make them as rich, and as happy, as they desire to\nbe. But they presently feel their mistake; and yet rarely find out,\nthat the way to content lies through self-command, and that to have\nenough of any thing which this world affords, we must be careful not to\ngrasp at too much of it.\n\nOn the entrance into life, higher and more generous motives usually\nexcite the better part of mankind to labour in those professions, that\nare accounted liberal. But, as they proceed in their course, interest,\nwhich was always one spur to their industry, infixes itself deeply\ninto their minds, and stimulates them more sensibly than any other.\nIt can scarce be otherwise, considering the influence of example; the\nexperience they have, or think they have, of the advantages, that\nattend encreasing wealth; the fashion of the times, which indulges,\nor, as we easily persuade ourselves, requires refined, and therefore\nexpensive, pleasures; and, above all, the selfishness of the human\nmind, which is, and, for wise reasons, was intended to be a powerful\nspring of action in us.\n\nThus there are several adventitious, shall we call them? or natural\ninclinations, which prompt us to the pursuit of riches; and I would not\nbe so rigid, as to insist on the total suppression of them.\n\nLet then the fortune, or the honour (for both are included in the\nmagical word _silver_) which eminent worth may propose to itself,\nbe among the inducements which erect the hopes, and quicken the\napplication, of a virtuous man. But let him know withal (and I am in\nno pain for the effect, which this premature knowledge may have upon\nhim) that the application, and not the object, is that in which he\nwill find his account; just as the pursuit, and not the game, is the\ntrue reward of the chace. He who thinks otherwise, and reckons that\naffluence is content, or grandeur, happiness, will have leisure, if he\nattain to either, to rectify his opinion, and to see that he had made a\nvery false estimate of human life.\n\nAnd, now, having thus far commented on my text, I will take leave, for\nonce, to step beyond it, and shew you, in few words (for many cannot be\nnecessary on so plain a subject) _where_ and _how_ satisfaction may be\nfound.\n\nIn the abundance of _silver_, it does not, and cannot lie; nor yet in a\ncynical contempt of it: but, in few and moderate desires; in a correct\ntaste of life, which consults nature more than fancy in the choice\nof its pleasures; in rejecting imaginary wants, and keeping a strict\nhand on those that are real; in a sober use of what we possess, and no\nfurther concern about more than what may engage us, by honest means,\nto acquire it; in considering who, and what we are[165]; that we are\ncreatures of a day, to whom long desires and immeasurable projects\nare very ill suited; that we are reasonable creatures, who should make\na wide difference between what seems to be, and what is important;\nthat we are accountable creatures, and should be more concerned to\nmake a right use of what we possess, than to enlarge our possessions;\nthat, above all, we are Christians, who are expected to sit loose to a\ntransitory world, to extend our hopes to another life, and to qualify\nourselves for it.\n\nIn this way, and with these reflections, we shall see things in a true\nlight, and shall either not desire abundant wealth, or shall understand\nits true value. The strictest morality, and even our divine religion,\nlays no obligation upon us to profess poverty. We are even required\nto be industrious in our several callings and stations, and are, of\ncourse, allowed to reap the fruits, whatever they be, of an honest\nindustry. Yet it deserves our consideration, that wealth is always a\nsnare, and therefore too often a curse; that, if virtuously obtained,\nit affords but a moderate satisfaction at best; and that, if we WILL\nbe rich, that is, resolve by any means, and at all events, to be so,\nwe _pierce ourselves through with many sorrows_[166]; that it even\nrequires more virtue to manage, as we ought, a great estate, than to\nacquire it, in the most reputable manner; that affluent, and, still\nmore, enormous wealth secularizes the heart of a Christian too much,\nindisposes him for the offices of piety, and too often (though it may\nseem strange) for those of humanity; that it inspires a sufficiency and\nself-dependance, which was not designed for mortal man; an impatience\nof complying with the rules of reason, and the commands of religion;\na forgetfulness of our highest duties, or an extreme reluctance to\nobserve them.\n\nIn a word, when we have computed all the advantages, which a flowing\nprosperity brings with it, it will be our wisdom to remember, that its\ndisadvantages are also great[167]; greater than surely we are aware of,\nif it be true, as our Lord himself assures us it is; _that a rich man\nshall hardly enter into the kingdom of Heaven_[168].\n\nYet, _with God_ (our gracious Master adds) _all things are possible_. I\nreturn, therefore, to the doctrine with which I set out, and conclude;\nthat riches are not evil in themselves; that the moderate desire of\nthem is not unlawful; that a right use of them is even meritorious.\nBut then you will reflect on what the nature of things, as well as\nthe voice of Solomon, loudly declares, that _he who loveth silver,\nshall not be satisfied with silver_; that the capacity of the human\nmind is not filled with it; that, if we pursue it with ardour, and\nmake it the sole or the chief object of our pursuit, it never did, and\nnever can yield a true and permanent satisfaction; that, if _riches\nencrease_, it is our interest, as well as duty, _not to set our hearts\nupon them_[169]; and that, finally, we are so to employ the riches, we\nany of us have, with temperance and sobriety, with mercy and charity,\nas to _make ourselves friends of the mammon of unrighteousness_ (of\nthe mammon, which usually deserves to be so called) that, _when we\nfail_ (when our lives come, as they soon will do, to an end) _they may\nreceive us into everlasting habitations_[170].\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXVI.\n\nPREACHED FEBRUARY 21, 1773.\n\n1 COR. vi. 20.\n\n_Therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are\nGod\u2019s._\n\n\nThe words, as the expression shews, are an inference from the preceding\npart of the Apostle\u2019s discourse. The occasion was this. He had been\nreasoning, towards the close of this chapter, against fornication,\nor the vice of impurity; to which the Gentiles, in their unbelieving\nstate, had been notoriously addicted; and for which the Corinthians (to\nwhom he writes) were, even among the Gentiles themselves, branded to a\nproverb.\n\nThe topics, he chiefly insists upon, are taken, not from nature, but\nthe principles of our holy religion, from the right and property, which\nGod hath in Christians. By virtue of their profession, their bodies and\nsouls are appropriated to him. THEREFORE, says he, _glorify God in your\nbody, and in your spirit, which are God\u2019s_.\n\nTo apprehend all the force of this conclusion, it will be proper to\nlook back to the arguments themselves; to consider distinctly the\nsubstance of them, and the manner in which they are conducted.\n\nThis double attention will give us cause to admire, not the logick\nonly, but the address, of the learned Apostle. I say, the _address_;\nwhich the occasion required: for, notwithstanding that no sin is more\nopposite to our holy religion, and that therefore St. Paul, in his\nepistles to the Gentile converts, gives it no quarter, yet, as became\nthe wisdom and sanctity of his character, he forgets not of what, and\nto whom, he writes.\n\nThe vice itself is of no easy reprehension: not, for want of arguments\nagainst it, which are innumerable and irresistible; but from the\nreverence which is due to one\u2019s self and others. An Apostle,\nespecially, was to respect his own dignity. He was, besides, neither\nto offend the innocent, nor the guilty. Unhappily, these last, who\nneeded his plainest reproof, had more than the delicacy of innocence\nabout them, and were, of all men, the readiest to take offence. For so\nit is, the licentious of all times have seared consciences, and tender\napprehensions. It alarms them to hear what they have no scruple to\ncommit.\n\nThe persons addressed were, especially, to be considered. These\nwere Corinthians: that is, a rich commercial people, voluptuous and\ndissolute. They were, besides, wits and reasoners, rhetoricians and\nphilosophers: for under these characters they are represented to us.\nAnd all these characters required the Apostle\u2019s attention. As a people\naddicted to pleasure, and supported in the habits of it by abounding\nwealth, they were to be awakened out of their lethargy, by an earnest\nand vehement expostulation: as pretending to be expert in the arts\nof reasoning, they were to be convinced by strict argument: and, as\nmen of quick rhetorical fancies, a reasoner would find his account in\npresenting his argument to them through some apt and lively image.\n\nLet us see, then, how the Apostle acquits himself in these nice\ncircumstances.\n\nAfter observing that the sin he had warned the Corinthians to avoid,\nwas _a sin against their own body_; that is, was an abuse and\ndefilement of it, he proceeds, \u201c_What! know ye not that your body is\nthe temple of the Holy Ghost, which is in you, which ye have of God?\nAnd ye are not your own; for ye are bought with a price; therefore,\nglorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God\u2019s._\u201d\n\nThe address, we see, is poignant; the reasoning, close; and the\nexpression, oratorical. The vehemence of his manner could not but take\ntheir attention: his argumentation, as being founded on Christian\nprinciples and ideas, must be conclusive to the persons addressed;\nand, as conveyed in remote and decent figures, the delicacy of their\nimaginations is respected by it.\n\nThe whole deserves to be opened and explained at large. Such an\nexplanation, will be the best discourse I can frame on this subject.\n\nI. First, then, the Apostle asks, _What! know ye not that your body\nis the temple of the Holy Ghost?_\u2014This question refers to that great\nChristian principle, that we live _in the communion of the Holy\nGhost_[171]; not, in the sense in which we _all live and move and have\nour being in God_; but in a special and more exalted sense; the Gospel\nteaching, that _God hath given to us Christians the Holy Spirit_[172],\nto be with us, and in us; to purify and comfort us: that we are\n_baptized by this spirit_[173], sanctified, _sealed by it to the day of\nredemption_[174].\n\nNow this being the case, the _body_ of a Christian, which the Holy\nGhost inhabits and sanctifies by his presence, is no longer to be\nconsidered as a worthless fabrick, to be put to sordid uses, but as the\nreceptacle of God\u2019s spirit, as the place of his residence; in a word,\nas his TEMPLE and sanctuary.\n\nThe figure, you see, presents an idea the most august and venerable.\nIt carried this impression with it both to the Gentile and Jewish\nChristians. It did so to the Gentiles, whose superstitious reverence\nfor their idol-temples is well known: and though many an abominable\nrite was done in them, yet the nature of the Deity, occupying this\ntemple, which was the Holy Ghost, put an infinite difference between\nhim and their impure deities, the impurest of which had engrossed the\nCorinthian worship. So that this contrast of the object could not but\nraise their ideas, and impress the reverence, which the Apostle would\nexcite in them for such a temple, with full effect on their minds[175].\nAnd then to Jews, the allusion must be singularly striking: for their\nsupreme pride and boast was, the temple at Jerusalem, _the tabernacle\nof the most high, dwelling between the cherubims, and the place of the\nhabitation of God\u2019s glory_[176].\n\nTo both Jew and Gentile, the notion of a temple implied these two\nthings, 1. That the divinity was in a more especial manner present in\nit: and, 2. That it was a place peculiarly set apart for his service.\nWhence the effect of this representation would be, That the body,\nhaving the Holy Spirit lodged within it, was to be kept pure and clean\nfor this c\u00e6lestial inhabitant: and, as being dedicated to his own use,\nit was not to be prophaned by any indecencies, much less by a gross\nsin, which is, emphatically, _a sin against the body_, and by heathens\nthemselves accounted a _pollution_[177] of it.\n\nFurther; the Apostle does not leave the Corinthians to collect all this\nfrom the image presented to them, but asserts it expressly; _What! know\nye not, that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost_, WHICH IS IN\nYOU: Implying, that what they would naturally infer from their idea of\na temple, was true, in fact, _that the Holy Ghost was in them_; that\nhis actual occupancy and possession of their bodies appropriated the\nuse of them to himself, and excluded all sordid practices in them, as\nprophane and SACRILEGIOUS. Nay, he further adds; AND WHICH [Holy Ghost]\nYE HAVE OF GOD: ye have received this adorable spirit, _which is in\nyou_, from God himself; and so are obliged to entertain this heavenly\nguest with all sanctity and reverence; not only for his own sake, and\nfor the honour he does you in dwelling in you, but for his sake who\nsent him, and from whose hands ye have received him.\n\nThis first argument, then, against the sin of uncleanness, divested of\nits figure, stands thus. In consequence of your Christian profession,\nye must acknowledge, that the Holy Spirit is given to inform and\nconsecrate your mortal bodies; that he is actually _within_ you; and\nthat he dwells and operates there, by the gracious appointment and\ncommission of God. Ye are therefore to consider your body as the place\nof his more especial habitation; and as such, are bound to preserve it\nin such purity, as the nature of so sacred a presence demands.\n\nThis is the clear, obvious, and conclusive argument; liable to no\nobjection, or even cavil, from a professor of Christianity. The figure\nof a temple is only employed to raise our apprehensions, and to convey\nthe conclusion with more force and energy to our minds. But now,\n\nII. The Apostle proceeds to another and distinct consideration, and\nshews that the Holy Ghost is not only the actual _occupier and\npossessor_ of the body of Christians, whom the Almighty had, as it\nwere, forced upon them, and by his sovereign authority enjoined them to\nreceive, but that he was the true and rightful PROPRIETOR of it. YE ARE\nNOT YOUR OWN, continues the Apostle; not merely, as \u201cGod hath, by his\nspirit, taken possession of you, and sealed you up, as his own proper\ngoods[178];\u201d but as he hath redeemed and purchased you, as he hath done\nthat, by which the _property_ ye might before seem to have in your\nbodies, is actually made over and consigned to him. FOR YE ARE BOUGHT\nWITH A PRICE.\n\nThe expression is, again, figurative; and refers to the notions and\nusages that obtained among the heathens, the Greeks especially, in\nregard to _personal slavery_. As passionate admirers, as they were,\nof liberty, every government, even the most republican, abounded in\nslaves; every family had its share of them. The purchase of them, as\nof brute beasts, was a considerable part of their traffick. Men and\nwomen were bought and sold publicly in their markets: the wealth of\nstates and of individuals, in great measure, consisted in them. Thus\nwas human nature degraded by the Heathen, and I wish it might be said,\nby heathens only. But my present concern is with them. It is too sad\na truth that human creatures sold themselves, or were sold by their\nmasters, to be employed in the basest services, even those of luxury\nand of lust. This infamous practice was common through all Greece, but\nwas more especially a chief branch of the Corinthian commerce. Their\ncity was the head-quarters of prostitution, and the great market for\nthe supply of it.\n\nNow to this practice the Apostle alludes, but in such a manner as\nimplies the severest reproof of it. His remonstrance is to this\neffect. \u201cYe Corinthians, in your former pagan state, made no scruple\nto consider your slaves as your own absolute property. Your pretence\nwas, that _ye had bought them with a price_; that is, with a piece of\nmoney, which could be no equivalent for the natural inestimable liberty\nand dignity of a fellow-creature; yet ye claimed to yourselves their\nentire, unreserved service; and often condemned them to the vilest and\nmost ignominious.\n\n\u201cTo turn now, says the Apostle, from these horrors to a fairer scene;\nfor I take advantage only of your ideas in this matter, to lead you\nto just notions of your present Christian condition. God, the sole\nrightful proprietor of the persons of men, left you in the state of\nnature, to the enjoyment of your own liberty, with no other restraint\nupon it than what was necessary to preserve so great a blessing, the\nrestraint of reason. Now, indeed, but still for your own infinite\nbenefit, he claims a stricter property in you, and demands your more\npeculiar service. He first made you men, but now Christians. Still he\ncondescends to proceed with you in your own way, and according to your\nown ideas of right and justice. _He has bought you with a price_: but,\nmerciful heaven, with _what_ price? With that, which exceeds all value\nand estimation, with the BLOOD of his only begotten Son; the least drop\nof which is of more virtue than all your hecatombs, and more precious\nthan the treasures of the East. And for what was this price paid? Not\nto enslave, much less to insult and corrupt you (as ye wickedly served\none another), but to _redeem you into the glorious liberty of the sons\nof God_: It was, to restore you from death to life, from servitude to\nfreedom, from corruption to holiness, _to make to himself a peculiar\npeople, zealous of good works_. Say, then, Is this ransom an equivalent\nfor the purchase of you? And is the end for which ye are purchased,\nsuch as ye dare complain of, or have reason to refuse? Henceforth,\nthen, _ye are not your own_: the property of your souls and bodies is\nfreely, justly, equitably, with immense benefit to yourselves, and\nunspeakable mercy on the part of the purchaser, transferred to God.\nYour whole and best service is due to him, of strict right: what he\ndemands of you is to serve him in all virtue and godliness of living,\nand particularly to respect and reverence yourselves; in a word, not to\npollute yourselves with forbidden lusts. In this way ye are required\nto serve your new lord and master, who has the goodness to regard such\nservice, as an honour and glory to himself. _Therefore_, do your part\ninviolably and conscientiously, _Glorify God in your body, and in your\nspirit, which are God\u2019s_.\u201d\n\nThis is the the Apostle\u2019s idea, when drawn out and explained at large.\nThe reasoning is decisive, as in the former case: and the expression\nadmirably adapted to the circumstances of the persons addressed. In\nplain words, the argument is this. God has provided, by the sacrifice\nof the death of Christ, for your redemption from all iniquity, both\nthe service, and the wages of it. By your profession of Christianity,\nand free acceptance of this inestimable benefit, freely offered to\nyou, ye are become in a more especial manner, his servants: ye are\nbound, therefore, by every motive of duty and self-interest to preserve\nyourselves in all that purity of mind and body, which his laws require\nof you; and for the sake of which ye were taken into this nearer\nrelation to himself. The figure of being _bought with a price_, was\nat once the most natural cover of this reasoning, as addressed to the\nCorinthian Christians; and the most poignant reproof of their country\u2019s\ninhuman practice of trafficking in the bodies and souls of men.\n\nThe force both of the _figure_ and the _reasoning_ is apparently much\nweakened by this minute comment upon the Apostle\u2019s words, which yet\nseemed necessary to make them understood.\n\nTo draw to a point, then, the substance of what has been said, and to\nconclude.\n\nThe vice which the Apostle had been arguing against, is condemned\nby natural reason. But Christians are bound by additional and\npeculiar considerations to abstain from it. YE, says the Apostle, ARE\nTHE TEMPLES OF THE HOLY GHOST. To defile yourselves with the sins\nof uncleanness is, then, to desecrate those bodies which the Holy\nGhost sanctifies by his presence. It is, in the emphatic language\nof scripture, _to grieve the holy Spirit_, and _to do despite to\nthe spirit of grace_. It is like, nay it is infinitely worse, than\npolluting the sanctuary: an abomination, which nature itself teaches\nall men to avoid and execrate. It is, in the highest sense of the\nwords, PROPHANENESS, IMPIETY, SACRILEGE.\n\nAgain; YE ARE BOUGHT WITH A PRICE: ye are not your own, but God\u2019s;\nhaving been ransomed by him, your souls and bodies, when both were\nlost, through the death of his Son: a price, of so immense, so\ninestimable a value, that worlds are not equal to it. To dispose of\nyourselves, then, in a way which he forbids and abhors: to corrupt\nby your impurities that which belongs to God, which is his right and\nproperty; to serve your lusts, when ye are redeemed at such a price to\nserve God only, through Jesus Christ; is an outrage which we poorly\nexpress, when language affords no other names for it, than those of\nINGRATITUDE, INFIDELITY, INJUSTICE.\n\nWhatever excuses a poor heathen might alledge to palliate this sin, we\nChristians have none to offer. He, _who knew not God_, might be led\nby his pride, by his passions, and even by his religion, to conclude\n(as the idolatrous Corinthians seem to have done) that _his own body\nwas for fornication_; or, at most, that he was only accountable to\n_his own soul_ (if his philosophy would give him leave to think he had\none) for the misuse of it. But this language is now out of date. The\nsouls and bodies of us Christians are not ours, but the _Lord\u2019s_: they\nare _occupied_ by his spirit, and _appropriated_ to his service. The\nconclusion follows, and cannot be inforced in stronger terms than those\nof the text: THEREFORE GLORIFY GOD IN YOUR BODY, AND IN YOUR SPIRIT,\nWHICH ARE GOD\u2019S.\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXVII.\n\nPREACHED MARCH 13, 1774.\n\nJOB xxiii. 26.\n\n _Thou writest bitter things against me, and makest me to possess\n the iniquities of my youth._\n\n\nThis is one of the complaints which Job makes in his expostulations\nwith the Almighty. He thought it hard measure that he should suffer,\nnow in his riper years, for the iniquities of his youth. He could\ncharge himself with no other; and therefore he hoped that these had\nbeen forgotten.\n\nJob is all along represented as an eminently virtuous person; so\nthat the iniquities of his youth might not have been numerous or\nconsiderable: otherwise, he would not have thought it strange, that he\nwas _made to possess_ his sins, long after they had been committed. Our\nexperience is, in this respect, so constant and uniform, that there\nis no room for surprize or expostulation. All those who have passed\ntheir youth in sin and folly, may with reason express a very strong\nresentment against themselves; but have no ground of complaint against\nGod, when they cry out, in the anguish of their souls: _Thou writest\nbitter things against me, and makest me to possess the iniquities of my\nyouth_.\n\nThe words are peculiarly strong and energetic; and may be considered\ndistinctly from the case of Job, as expressing this general\nproposition; \u201cThat, in the order of things, an ill-spent youth derives\nmany lasting evils on the subsequent periods of life.\u201d An alarming\ntruth! which cannot be too much considered, and should especially be\nset before the young and unexperienced, in the strongest light.\n\nThe sins of _youth_, as distinguished from those of riper years, are\nchiefly such as are occasioned by an immoderate, or an irregular\npursuit of pleasure; into which we are too easily carried in that\ncareless part of life; and the ill effects of which are rarely\napprehended by us, till they are severely felt.\n\nNow, it may be said of us, that we are made to POSSESS these sins,\n\u201cWhen _we continue under the constant sense and unrepented guilt of\nthem_:\u201d \u201cWhen _we labour under tyrannous habits, which they have\nproduced_:\u201d And, \u201cwhen _we groan under afflictions of various kinds,\nwhich they have entailed upon us_.\u201d\n\nIn these three respects, I mean to shew how _bitter those things are,\nwhich God writeth_, that is, decreeth in his justice, _against the\niniquities of our youth_.\n\nI. The _first_, and bitterest effect of this indulgence in vicious\npleasure, is the guilt and consequent remorse of conscience, we derive\nfrom it.\n\nWhen the young mind has been tinctured in any degree with the\nprinciples of modesty and virtue, it is with reluctance and much\napprehension, that it first ventures on the transgression of known\nduty. But the vivacity and thoughtless gaiety of that early season,\nencouraged by the hopes of new pleasure, and sollicited, as it\ncommonly happens, by ill examples, is at length tempted to make the\nfatal experiment; by which guilt is contracted, and the sting of guilt\nfirst known. The ingenuous mind reflects with shame and compunction\non this miscarriage but the passion revives; the temptation returns,\nand prevails a second time, and a third; still with growing guilt,\nbut unhappily with something less horror; yet enough to admonish the\noffender of his fault, and to embitter his enjoyments.\n\nAs no instant mischief, perhaps, is felt from this indulgence, but\nthe pain of remorse, he, by degrees, imputes this effect to an\nover-timorous apprehension, to his too delicate self-esteem, or to the\nprejudice of education. He next confirms himself in these sentiments,\nby observing the practice of the world, by listening to the libertine\ntalk of his companions, and by forming, perhaps, a sort of system to\nhimself, by which he pretends to vindicate his own conduct: till, at\nlength, his shame and his fears subside; he grows intrepid in vice, and\nriots in all the intemperance to which youth invites, and high spirits\ntransport him.\n\nIn this delirious state he continues for some time. But presently the\nscene changes. Although the habit continue, the enjoyment is not the\nsame: the keenness of appetite abates, and the cares of life succeed to\nthis run of pleasure.\n\nBut neither the cares nor the pleasures of life can now keep him from\nreflexion. He cannot help giving way, at times, to a serious turn of\nthought; and some unwelcome event or other will strike in to promote\nit. Either the loss of a friend makes him grave; or a fit of illness\nsinks his spirits; or it may be sufficient, that the companions of his\nidle hours are withdrawn, and that he is left to himself in longer\nintervals than he would chuse, of solitude and recollection.\n\nBy some or other of these means CONSCIENCE revives in him, and with a\nquick resentment of the outrage she has suffered. Attempts to suppress\nher indignant reproaches, are no longer effectual: she _will_ be\nheared; and her voice carries terror and consternation with it.\n\n\u201cShe upbraids him, first, with his loss of virtue, and of that which\ndied with it, her own favour and approbation. She then sets before him\nthe indignity of having renounced all self-command, and of having\nserved ingloriously under every idle, every sordid appetite. She next\nrises in her remonstrance; represents to him the baseness of having\nattempted unsuspecting innocence; the cruelty of having alarmed,\nperhaps destroyed, the honour of deserving families; the fraud, the\nperfidy, the perjury, he has possibly committed in carrying on his\niniquitous purposes. The mischiefs he has done to others are perhaps\nnot to be repaired; and his own personal crimes remain to be accounted\nfor; and, if at all, can only be expiated by the bitterest repentance.\nAnd what then, concludes this severe monitor in the awful words of the\nApostle, _What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now\nashamed? for the end of those things is death_[179].\u201d\n\nSuppose now this remonstrance to take effect, and that the sinner\nis at length (for what I have here represented in few words, takes\nmuch time in doing; but suppose, I say, that the sinner is at length)\nwrought upon by this remonstrance to entertain some serious thoughts\nof amendment, still the consciousness of his ill desert will attend\nhim through every stage of life, and corrupt the sincerity of all his\nenjoyments; while he knows not what will be the issue of his crimes, or\nwhether, indeed, he shall ever be able truly and effectually to repent\nof them. For we cannot get quit of our sins, the moment we resolve to\ndo so: But, as I proposed to shew,\n\nII. _In the second place_, we are still made to possess the iniquities\nof our youth, _while we labour under any remains of those tyrannous\nhabits, which they have produced in us_.\n\nThere is scarce an object of greater compassion, than the man who\nis duly sensible of his past misconduct, earnestly repents of it,\nand strives to reform it, but yet is continually drawn back into his\nformer miscarriages, by the very habit of having so frequently fallen\ninto them. Such a man\u2019s life is a perpetual scene of contradiction;\na discordant mixture of good resolutions, and weak performances; of\nvirtuous purposes, and shameful relapses; in a word, of sin and sorrow.\nAnd, were he only to consult his present ease, an uninterrupted course\nof vice might almost seem preferable to this intermitting state of\nvirtue. But the misery of this condition comes from himself, and must\nbe endured, for the sake of avoiding, if it may be, one that is much\nworse. In the mean time, he feels most sensibly what it is to _possess_\nthe iniquities of his youth. The temptation, perhaps, to persevere in\nthem, is not great; he condemns, and laments his own weakness. Still\nthe habit prevails, and his repentance, though constantly renewed, is\nunable to disengage him from the power of it.\n\nThus he struggles with himself, perhaps for many years, perhaps for a\ngreat part of his life; and in all that time is distracted by the very\ninconsistency of his own conduct, and tortured by the bitterest pains\nof compunction and self-abhorrence.\n\nBut let it be supposed, that the grace of God at length prevails\nover the tyranny of his inveterate habits; that his repentance is\nefficacious, and his virtue established. Yet the memory of his former\nweakness fills him with fears and apprehensions: he finds his mind\nweakened, as well as polluted, by his past sins; he has to strive\nagainst the returning influence of them; and thus, when penitence and\ntears have washed away his guilt, he still thinks himself insecure, and\ntrembles at the possible danger of being involved again in it.\n\nAdd to all this, the compunction which such a man feels, when he is\nobliged to discountenance in others, perhaps, by his station, to punish\nthose crimes in which he had so long and so freely indulged himself:\nand how uneasy the very discharge of his duty is thus rendered to him.\n\nTo say all upon this head: his acquired habits, if not corrected in due\ntime, may push him into crimes the most atrocious and shocking; and,\nif subdued at length, will agitate his mind with long dissatisfaction\nand disquiet. Repentance, if it comes at all, will come late; and will\nnever reinstate him fully in the serenity and composure of his lost\ninnocence. But,\n\nIII. Lastly, when all this is done (and more to do is not in our power)\nwe may still possess the iniquities of our youth, in another sense,\nI mean, _when we groan under the temporal afflictions of many kinds,\nwhich they entail upon us_.\n\nSo close do these sad _possessions_ cleave to us, and so difficult it\nis, contrary to what we observe of all other possessions, to divest\nourselves of them!\n\nWhen PLEASURE first spreads its share for the young voluptuary, how\nlittle did he suspect the malignity of its nature; and that under so\nenchanting an appearance, it was preparing for him pains and diseases,\ndeclining health, an early old-age, perhaps poverty, infamy, and\nirreparable ruin? Yet some, or all of these calamities may oppress him,\nwhen the pleasure is renounced, and the sin forsaken.\n\nYouth and health are with difficulty made to comprehend how frail a\nmachine the human body is, and how easily impaired by excesses. But\neffects will follow their causes; and intemperate pleasure is sure\nto be succeeded by long pains, for which there is no prevention, and\nfor the most part, no remedy. Hence it is that life is shortened;\nand, while it lasts, is full of languor, disease, and suffering. If\nby living _fast_, as men call it, they only abridged the duration of\ntheir pleasures, their folly might seem tolerable. But the case is\nmuch worse: they treasure up to themselves actual sufferings, from\ndisorders which have no cure, as well as no name. And not unfrequently\nit happens, according to the strong expression in the book of Job, that\n_a man\u2019s bones are full of the sin of his youth, till they lie down\nwith him in the grave_[180].\n\nOr, if health continue, his _fortune_ suffers; it being an observation\nas old as Solomon, and confirmed by constant experience ever since,\nthat _he who loveth pleasure, shall not be rich_[181]. His paternal\ninheritance is perhaps wasted, or much reduced. And his careless youth\nhas lost the opportunity of those improvements which should enable\nhim to repair it. Or, if the abundant provision of wiser ancestors\nsecure him from this mischance; or, if he has had the discretion to\nmix some industry and \u0153conomy with his vices, still his good name\nis blasted, and so tender a plant as this is not easily restored to\nhealth and vigour. For it is a mistake to think that intemperance\nleaves no lasting disgrace behind it. The contrary is seen every\nday; and the crimes which we commit in the mad pursuit of pleasure,\nbring a dishonour with them, which no age can wholly outlive, and no\nvirtue can repair[182]. It stuck close to C\u00e6sar himself in his highest\nfortune: All his laurels could neither hide his _baldness_ from the\nobservation of men, nor the infamy of that commerce by which it had\nbeen occasioned[183].\n\nAll this, it may be thought, is very hard. But such is the fact, and\nsuch the order of God\u2019s providence. We have not the making of this\nsystem: it is made to our hands by him who ordereth all things for the\nbest, how grievous soever his dispensations may sometimes appear to\nus. Our duty, and our wisdom is to reflect what that system is, and to\nconform ourselves to it.\n\nIf a young man, on his entrance into life, could be made duly sensible\nof the dreadful evils, which, in the very constitution of things, flow\nfrom vice, there is scarcely any temptation that could prevail over his\nvirtue. But his levity and inexperience expose him to these evils: he\nthinks nothing of them till they arrive, and then there is no escape\nfrom them.\n\nTo conclude: if any thing can rescue unwary youth out of the hands of\ntheir own folly, it must be such a train of reflection as the text\noffers to us. Let it sink deep into their minds, that there are indeed\n_bitter things_ decreed against the iniquities of that early age; that\na thousand temporal evils spring from that source; that vicious habits\nare in themselves vexatious and tormenting; and, that, uncorrected,\nand unrepented of, they fill the mind with inutterable remorse and\nhorror.\n\nWhen the sins of youth are seen in this light, it is not by giving\nthem the soft name of infirmities, or by cloathing them with ideas of\npleasure, that we shall be able to reconcile the mind to them. Such\nthin disguises will not conceal their true forms and natures from us.\nWe shall still take them for what indeed they are, for sorcerers and\nassassins, the enchanters of our reason and the murderers of our peace.\n\nThe sum of all is comprised in that memorable advice of the Psalmist,\nso often quoted in this place (and, for once, let it have its effect\nupon us): _Keep innocency, and take heed to the thing that is right,\nfor that shall bring a man peace at the last_[184].\n\nOr, if the scorner will not listen to this advice, it only remains\nto leave him to his own sad experience; but not till we have made\none charitable effort more to provoke his attention by the caustic\napostrophe of the wise man: _Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and\nlet thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways\nof thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes: but_ KNOW THOU, _that,\nfor all these things, God will bring thee into judgement_[185].\n\n\n\n\nSERMON XXVIII.\n\nPREACHED MAY 28, 1769.\n\nECCLESIASTES vii. 21, 22.\n\n _Take no heed unto all words that are spoken, lest thou hear thy\n servant curse thee. For oftentimes, also, thine own heart knoweth,\n that thou thyself, likewise, hast cursed others._\n\n\nThe royal author of this book has been much and justly celebrated for\nhis wise aphorisms and precepts on the conduct of human life. Among\nothers of this sort, the text may deserve to be had in reverence;\nwhich, though simply and familiarly expressed, could only be the\nreflexion of a man who had great experience of the world, and had\nstudied with care the secret workings of his own mind.\n\nThe purpose of it is, to disgrace and discountenance that ANXIOUS\nCURIOSITY (the result of our vanity, and a misguided self-love) which\nprompts us to inquire into the sentiments and opinions of other persons\nconcerning us, and to give ourselves no rest till we understand what,\nin their private and casual conversations, they say of us.\n\n\u201cThis curious disposition, says the preacher, is by all means to be\nrepressed, as the indulgence of it is both FOOLISH and UNJUST; as it\nnot only serves to embitter your own lives by the unwelcome discoveries\nye are most likely to make; but at the same time to convict your own\nconsciences of much iniquity; since, upon reflexion, ye will find that\nye have, yourselves, been guilty at some unguarded hour or other, of\nthe same malignity or flippancy towards other men.\u201d\n\nIn these two considerations is comprised whatever can be said to\ndiscredit this vice: the _one_, you see, taken from the preacher\u2019s\nknowledge of human life; the _other_, from his intimate acquaintance\nwith the secret depravity and corruption of the human heart.\n\nPermit me, then, to enlarge on these two topics; and, by that means, to\nopen to you more distinctly the WISDOM, and the EQUITY of that conduct,\nwhich is here recommended to us, of _not giving a sollicitous attention\nto the frivolous and unweighed censures of other men_.\n\nI. _Take no heed_, says the preacher, _to all words that are spoken_,\nLEST THOU HEAR THY SERVANT CURSE THEE. This is the FIRST reason which\nhe assigns for his advice.\n\nThe force of it will be clearly apprehended, if we reflect (as the\nobserving author of the text had certainly done) that nothing is more\nflippant, nothing more unreasonably and unaccountably petulant, than\nthe tongue of man.\n\nIt is so little under the controul, I do not say of candour, or of\ngood-nature, but of common prudence, and of common justice, that it\nmoves, as it were, with the slightest breath of rumour; nay, as if a\ntendency to speak ill of others were instinctive to it, it waits many\ntimes for no cause from without, but is prompted as we may say, by its\nown restlessness and volubility to attack the characters of those who\nchance to be the subject of discourse. Without provocation, without\nmalice, without so much as intentional ill-will, it echoes the voice of\nthe present company; vibrates with the prevailing tone of conversation;\nor takes occasion from the slightest occurrence, from some idle conceit\nthat strikes the fancy, from the impulse of a sudden and half-formed\nsuggestion, that stirs within us, to exercise its activity in a\ncareless censure of other men.\n\nNay, what is more to be lamented, the sagacious observer of mankind\nwill find reason to conclude, that no zeal for our interests, no\nkindness for our persons, shall at all times restrain this unruly\nmember, the tongue, from taking unwelcome freedoms with us. The\ndearest friend we have, shall at some unlucky moment be seduced by an\naffectation of wit, by a start of humour, by a flow of spirits, by a\nsudden surmise, or indisposition, by any thing, in short, to let fall\nsuch things of us, as have some degree of sharpness in them, and would\ngive us pain, if they were officiously reported to us.\n\nThis appears to have been the sentiment of the wise preacher in the\ntext. Avoid, says he, this impertinent curiosity, _lest thou hear thy\nservant curse thee_; lest the very persons that live under thy roof\nand are most obliged to thee, who are reasonably presumed to have the\nwarmest concern for thy honour and interest, and on whose fidelity and\ngratitude the security and comfort of thy whole life more immediately\ndepends, lest even these be found to make free with thy character. For\nthere is a time, when even _these_ may be carried to speak undutifully\nand disrespectfully of thee.\n\nAnd would any man wish to make this discovery of those, who are\nesteemed to be, and, notwithstanding these occasional freedoms, perhaps\n_are_, his true servants and affectionate friends?\n\nFor think not, when this unlucky discovery is made, that the offended\nparty will treat it with neglect, or be in a condition to consider it\nwith those allowances, that, in reason and equity, may be required of\nhim. No such thing: It will appear to him in the light of a heinous\nand unpardonable indignity; it will occasion warm resentments, and not\nonly fill his mind with present disquiet, but most probably provoke\nhim to severe expostulations; the usual fruit of which is, to make a\ndeliberate and active enemy of him, who was, before, only an incautious\nand indiscreet friend: at the best, it will engender I know not what\nuneasy jealousies and black suspicions; which will mislead his judgment\non many occasions; and inspire an anxious distrust, not of the faulty\nperson himself only, but of others, who stand in the same relation to\nhim, and, perhaps, of all mankind.\n\nThese several ill effects may be supposed, as I said, to flow from the\ndiscovery: and it will be useful to set the malignity of _each_ in its\ntrue and proper light.\n\n1. _First_, then, consider that a likely, or rather infallible effect\nof this discovery, is, _to fire the mind with quick and passionate\nresentments_. And what is it to be in this state, but to lose the\nenjoyment of ourselves; to have the relish of every thing, we possess,\nembittered by pungent reflexions on the perfidy and baseness of those,\nwith whom we live, and of whom it is our happiness to think well; to\nhave the repose of our lives disturbed by the most painful of all\nsensations, that of supposed injury from our very friends? And for\nwhat is this wretchedness, this misery, encountered? For the idleness\nof an unweighed discourse; for something, which, if kept secret from\nus, had been perfectly insignificant; for a discourtesy, which meant\nnothing and tended to nothing; for a word, which came from the tongue,\nrather than the heart; or, if the heart had any share in producing it,\nwas recalled perhaps, at least forgotten, in the moment it was spoken.\nAnd can it be worth while to indulge a curiosity which leads to such\ntorment, when the object of our inquiry is itself so frivolous, as well\nas the concern we have in it?\n\n2. _Another_ mischief attending the gratification of this impertinent\ncuriosity, is, That the unwelcome discoveries we make, _naturally lead\nto peevish complaints and severe expostulations_; the effect of which\nis, not only to continue and inflame the sense of the injury already\nreceived, but to draw fresh and greater indignities on ourselves, to\npush the offending party on extremes, and compell him, almost, whether\nhe will or no, to open acts of hostility against us. The former ill\ntreatment of us, whatever it might be, was perhaps forgotten; at least\nit had hitherto gone no further than words, and, while it was, or was\nsupposed to be, undiscovered, there was no thought of repeating the\nprovocation, and there was time and opportunity left for repenting\nof it, and for recovering a just sense of violated duty. But when\nthe offence is understood to be no longer a secret, the discovery\nprovokes fresh offences. Either pride puts the aggressor on justifying\nwhat he has done; or the shame of conviction, and the despair of\npardon, turns indifference into hate; ready to break out into all\nsorts of ill offices, and the readier, because the strong resentment\nof so slight a matter, as a careless expression, is itself, in turn,\naccounted an atrocious injury. And thus a small discourtesy, which, if\nunnoticed, had presently died away, shall grow and spread into a rooted\n_ill-will_, productive of gross reciprocal hostilities, and permanent\nas life itself.\n\nIt is on this account that wise men have always thought it better to\nconnive at moderate injuries, than, by an open resentment of them, to\nprovoke greater: and nothing is mentioned so much to the honour of a\nnoble Roman[186], as that, when he had the papers of an enemy in his\nhands (which would certainly have discovered the disaffection of many\npersons towards the republic and himself) he destroyed them all, and\nprudently, as well as generously, resolved to know nothing of what they\ncontained. And this conduct, which was thought so becoming a great man\nin public life, is unquestionably (on the same principle of prudence\nand magnanimity, to say nothing of higher motives) the duty and concern\nof every private man.\n\n3. But, _lastly_, supposing the resentment conceived on the discovery\nof an ungrateful secret, should not break out into overt acts of hatred\nand revenge, still the matter would not be much mended. For, _it would\nsurely breed a thousand uneasy suspicions_, which would prey on the\nhurt mind; and do irreparable injury to the moral character, as well as\nembitter the whole life of him who was unhappily conscious to them.\n\nThe experience of such neglect or infidelity in those whom we had\nhitherto loved and trusted, and from whom we had expected a suitable\nreturn of trust and love, would infallibly sour the temper, and\ncreate a constant apprehension of future unkindness. It would efface\nthe native candour of the mind, and bring a cloud of jealousy over\nit; which would darken our views of human life. It would make us\ncold, and gloomy, and reserved; indifferent to those who deserved\nbest of us, and unapt for the offices of society and friendship.\nThe more we suppressed these sentiments, the more would they fester\nand rankle within us; till the mind became all over tenderness and\nsensibility, and felt equal pain from its own groundless surmises, as\nfrom real substantial injuries. In a word, we should have no relish\nof conversation, no sincere enjoyment of any thing, we should only be\nmiserable _in_, and _from_ ourselves.\n\nAnd is this a condition to be officiously courted, and sought after? Or\nrather, could we suffer more from the malice of our bitterest enemy,\nthan we are ready to do from our own anxious curiosity to pry into the\ninfirmities of our friends?\n\nHITHERTO I have insisted on the danger of _giving heed to all words\nthat are spoken_, LEST THOU HEAR THY SERVANT CURSE THEE; in other\nwords, on the FOLLY of taking pains to make a discovery, which may\nprove unwelcome in itself, and dreadful in the consequent evils it may\nderive upon us.\n\nII. It now remains that I say one word on the INJUSTICE, and want of\nequity, which appears in this practice. FOR OFTENTIMES ALSO THINE OWN\nHEART KNOWETH, THAT THOU THYSELF, LIKEWISE, HAST CURSED OTHERS.\n\nAnd as in the former case the preacher drew his remonstrance from\nhis knowledge of the world; so in this, he reasons from his intimate\nknowledge of the human heart.\n\nLet the friendliest, the best man living, explore his own conscience,\nand then let him tell us, or rather let him tell himself, if he can,\nthat he has never offended in the instance here given. I suppose, on a\nstrict inquiry, he will certainly call to mind some peevish sentiment,\nsome negligent censure, some sharp reflection, which, at times, hath\nescaped him, even in regard to his _second self_, a bosom friend.\nEither he took something wrong, and some suspicious circumstance misled\nhim; or, he was out of health and spirits; or, he was ruffled by some\nungrateful accident; or, he had forgotten himself in an hour of levity;\nor a splenetic moment had surprised him. Some or other of these causes,\nhe will find, had betrayed him into a sudden warmth and asperity of\nexpression, which he is now ashamed and sorry for, and hath long since\nretracted and condemned.\n\n_Still further_, at the very time when this infirmity overtook him, he\nhad no purposed unfriendliness, no resolved disaffection towards the\nperson he allowed himself to be thus free with. His tongue indeed had\noffended, but his heart had scarce consented to the offence. The next\nday, the next hour, perhaps, he would gladly have done all service,\npossibly he would not have declined to hazard his life, for this abused\nfriend.\n\nI appeal, as the wise author of the text does, to yourselves, to the\ninmost recollection of your own thoughts, if ye do not know and feel\nthat this which I have described hath sometimes been your own case.\nAnd what then is the inference from this self-conviction? Certainly,\nthat ye ought in common justice, to restrain your inclination of prying\ninto the unguarded moments of other men. If your best friends have not\nescaped your flippancy, where is the equity of demanding more reserve\nand caution towards yourself from them? Without doubt the proper rule\nis to suppose, and to forgive, these mutual indiscretions, which we\nare all ready to commit towards each other. We should lay no stress on\nthese casual discourtesies; we should not desire to be made acquainted\nwith them; we should dismiss them, if some officious whisperer bring\nthe information to us, with indifference and neglect. To do otherwise\nis not only to vex and disquiet ourselves for trifles: It is to be\nunfair, uncandid, and _unjust_, in our dealings with others; it is to\nconvict ourselves of partiality and hypocrisy, _For thine own heart\nknoweth, that thou thyself likewise hast done the same thing_.\n\nYe have now, then, before you the substance of those considerations\nwhich the text offers, for the prevention of that idle and hurtful\ncuriosity of looking into the secret dispositions and discourses of\nother men. Ye see how foolish, how dangerous, how iniquitous it is, _to\ngive heed to all words that are spoken_.\n\nIt becomes a man indeed to lay a severe check and restraint on his\nown tongue. Far better would it be, if all men did so. But they who\nknow themselves and others, will not much expect this degree of\nself-government, will not, if they be wise, be much scandalized at the\nwant of it; since they know the observance of it is so difficult and\nsublime a virtue; since they know that nothing less than extraordinary\nwisdom can, at all times, prevent the tongue of man from running into\nexcesses; since they are even told by an Apostle, _That if any man\noffend not in word, the same is a perfect man_[187].\n\nLet us then allow for what we cannot well help. And let this\nconsideration come in aid of the others, employed in the text, to\nexpell an inveterate folly, which prompts us to lay more stress upon\nwords, than such frivolous and fugitive things deserve. Let us regard\nthem, for the most part, but as the shaking of a leaf, or the murmur of\nthe idle air: they rarely merit our notice, and attention, more: or,\nwhen they do, we should find it better to indulge our _charity_, than\nour curiosity; I mean, to _believe well of others_, as long as we can,\nrather than be at the pains of an anxious inquiry for a pretence to\n_think ill_ of them.\n\n\nTHE END OF THE SIXTH VOLUME.\n\nNICHOLS and SON, Printers, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf\u2014referring to the good effect of this way of teaching on\nthe disciples, whom it had enabled, as they confessed, to _understand_\nthe things, which Jesus had taught them.\n\n[2] Tit. ii. 7.\n\n[3] Rom. xv. 2.\n\n[4] They did this with design, and on principle; as appears from St.\nAustin\u2019s discourse _de Doctrin\u00e2 Christian\u00e2_, in which he instructs the\nChristian preacher to employ, on some occasions, inelegant and even\nbarbarous terms and expressions, the better to suit himself to the\napprehensions of his less informed hearers\u2014_non curante illo, qui\ndocet, quant\u00e2 eloquenti\u00e2 doceat, sed quant\u00e2 evidenti\u00e2. Cujus evidenti\u00e6\ndiligens appetitus aliquando negligit verba cultiora, nec curat\nquid ben\u00e8 sonet, sed quid ben\u00e8 indicet atque intimet quod ostendere\nintendit_\u2014and what follows. L. iv. p. 74. Ed. Erasm. t. iii.\n\n[5] 1 Cor. ii. 2.\n\n[6] Archbishop Tillotson.\n\n[7] Heb. iii. 2.\n\n[8] 2 Cor. iv. 5.\n\n[9] Matt. xi. 15.\n\n[10] 1 Pet. iii. 3.\n\n[11] 1 Pet iii. 15.\n\n[12] ALPHONSUS THE WISE\u2014I go on the common supposition, that this\nPrince intended a reflexion on the _system of nature_ itself; but,\nperhaps, his purpose was no more than, in a strong way of expression,\n(though it must be owned, no very decent one) to reprobate the\n_hypothesis_ [the _Ptolemaic_], which set that system in so bad a light.\n\n[13] \u2014\u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03be\u1f7a \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u03ae\u03bb\u03c9\u03bd \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03c3\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03cd\u03bd\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f22 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd.\nSee the Paraphrase and Comment on this text by Mr. Taylor of Norwich,\nto whom I acknowledge myself indebted for the idea which governs the\ngeneral method of this discourse.\n\n[14] _Nat. Deor._ l. ii. c. 66.\n\n[15] Sallust.\n\n[16] Plato\u2019s _Republic_.\n\n[17] Xenophon\u2019s _Inst. of Cyrus_.\n\n[18] Rom. ch. i. ver. 28-32.\u2014\u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u03ae\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u2014\u03c3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c5\u03b4\u03bf\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9\n\u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9.\n\n[19] Cicero, passim.\n\n[20] Felix, Acts xxiv. 25.\n\n[21] Ch. ii. 26.\n\n[22] Ch. iii. 1.\n\n[23] Chap. iii.\n\n[24] Rom. vi. 23.\n\n[25] 2 Cor. v. 15.\n\n[26] 2 Cor. v. 19.\n\n[27] 1 John ii. 2.\n\n[28] Rom. iii. 24.\n\n[29] 1 Tim. iv. 10.\n\n[30] Rom. i. 9.\n\n[31] Rom. xv. 13.\n\n[32] Col. ii. 10.\n\n[33] Ephes. iii. 2.\n\n[34] John xii. 48.\n\n[35] Luke xix. 14.\n\n[36] 2 Peter ii. 21.\n\n[37] St. John, xiii. 1.\n\n[38] Ch. xiv. 1.\n\n[39] St. John, xiv. 2.\n\n[40] Ch. xiv. 6.\n\n[41] Ch. xiv. 7.\n\n[42] 1 Cor. ii. 5.\n\n[43] Matt. xxi. 27.\u2014xxii. 46.\u2014xxvii. 14.\n\n[44] Matt. xii. 38.\u2014xvi. 1.\n\n[45] Mark iv. 34.\n\n[46] Mark iv. 34.\n\n[47] Mark iv. 11.\n\n[48] Matt. xiii. 58. Mark ix. 23.\n\n[49] Matt. vii. 6.\n\n[50] Mark iv. 25.\n\n[51] John xx. 29.\n\n[52] Isaiah lv. 8.\n\n[53] Wisdom, ix. 13.\n\n[54] 1 Cor. ii. 11.\n\n[55] Rom. xiii. 3.\n\n[56] \u03a6\u1ff6\u03c2 \u1f00\u03c0\u03c1\u03cc\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd. 1 Tim. vi. 16.\n\n[57] John xiv. 22.\n\n[58] \u03a4\u1f74\u03bd \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74\u03bd \u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03bd. Rom. xii. 1.\n\n[59] The dispute about _Easter_, in the second century.\n\n[60] The dispute about _Images_, in the eighth century.\n\n[61] Matt. xi. 29.\n\n[62] Matt. x. 34.\n\n[63] Job xxxii. 21.\n\n[64] Plutarch, or whoever was the author of a fragment, printed among\nhis moral discourses, and entitled, \u03a0\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c8\u03c5\u03c7\u1fc6\u03c2 \u1f22 \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\n\u03c3\u03ce\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03a0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c7\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1. Par. Ed. vol. ii. p. 500.\n\n[65] Called _\u00c6ones_. See Grotius in loc.\n\n[66] \u1f08\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n[67] Dat nobis et Paulus brevem \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03b5\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03af\u03b1\u03bd, sed perutilem. GROTIUS.\n\n[68] Rom. xii. 15.\n\n[69] Rom. i. 32.\n\n[70] 1 Peter iii. 16.\n\n[71] _Les petites morales_; as the French moralists call them.\n\n[72] \u03a6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03af\u03b1.\n\n[73] \u03a6\u03b9\u03bb\u03b1\u03b4\u03b5\u03bb\u03c6\u03af\u03b1.\n\n[74] \u03a4\u1fc6 \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb. \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bb\u03bb. \u03a6\u0399\u039b\u039f\u03a3\u03a4\u039f\u03a1\u0393\u039f\u0399.\n\n[75] _The integrity of the upright shall guide them._ Prov. xi. 3.\n\n[76] \u0394\u03b5\u03af\u03c0\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u2014\n\n[77] See more on this subject in the DISCOURSE _on Christ\u2019s driving the\nmerchants out of the temple_, at the end of the next volume.\n\n[78] Ver. 14.\n\n[79] If it be asked, why their _feet_? the answer is, that it was\ncustomary in the east for one to wash the feet of another. And this\npractice gave an easy introduction to the present enigmatical washing;\nwhich was equally expressive of the information designed, when\nperformed on this part of the body, as on any other.\n\n[80] Grotius saw the necessity of looking beyond the literal meaning of\nthose words\u2014_If I wash thee not_. \u201cMos Christi, says he, est a rebus,\nqu\u00e6 adspiciuntur, ad sensum sublimiorem ascendere.\u201d His comment then\nfollows. \u201c_Nisi te lavero_, id est, nisi _et sermone et spiritu eluero_\nquod in te restat minus puri,\u201d &c. Considering how near Jesus was to\nhis crucifixion, when he said this, one a little wonders how the great\ncommentator, when he was to assign the mystical sense of these words,\nshould overlook that which lay before him. Surely his gloss should\nhave been, _Nisi sanguine meo te eluero_, &c.\u2014Let me just add, that\nthe force of these words, as addressed to Peter, will be perfectly\nunderstood, if we reflect that he, who said to Jesus\u2014_Thou shalt\nnever wash my feet_\u2014said on a former occasion to him, when he spoke,\nwithout a figure, of his _death_ (though not, then, under the idea of a\npropitiatory sacrifice, or ablution)\u2014_Be it far from thee, Lord; this\nshall not be unto thee_. Matt. xvi. 22. So little did Peter see the\nnecessity of being _washed_ by the blood of Christ! And so important\nwas the information now given him in this _mystical_ washing\u2014_If I\nwash thee not, thou hast no part with me_.\n\n[81] A remarkable instance will be given, in the Discourse referred to\nabove, at the close of the next volume.\n\n[82] Mark iv. 33. John xvi. 12.\n\n[83] John xiv. 26.\n\n[84] 1 John i. 7.\n\n[85] Rev. i. 5.\n\n[86] Eph. i. 7. Coloss. i. 14.\n\n[87] 1 Cor. v. 7.\n\n[88] 1 Pet. i. 12. 1 Cor. vi. 11. and elsewhere, _passim_.\n\n[89] Rom. iii. 25.\n\n[90] Luke xii. 46.\n\n[91] Rev. vii. 14.\n\n[92] 1 John. vi. 7.\n\n[93] Matt. xviii. 7.\n\n[94] Matt. vi.\n\n[95] Ver. 12.\n\n[96] Phil. iv. 18.\n\n[97] See Whitby in loc.\n\n[98] See passages cited by Dr. Hammond.\n\n[99] 1 Cor. iii. 13.\n\n[100] 1 Pet. i. 7.\n\n[101] 1 Pet. iv. 12.\n\n[102] Eccles. ii. 5.\n\n[103] Heb. xii. 1.\n\n[104] Heb. vi. 4, 5, 6.\n\n[105] The difficulty in the two concluding verses of this chapter,\narises from a _vivacity of imagination in the pursuit and application\nof metaphors_; a faculty, in which the Orientals excelled, and\ndelighted. They pass suddenly from one idea to another, nearly, and\nsometimes, remotely, allied to it. They relinquish the primary sense,\nfor another suggested by it; and without giving any notice, as we\nshould do, of their intention. These numerous _reflected lights_, as we\nmay call them, eagerly catched at by the mind in its train of thinking,\nperplex the attention of a modern reader, and must be carefully\nseparated by him, if he would see the whole scope and purpose of many\npassages in the sacred writings.\n\n[106] 1 Cor. iv. 7.\n\n[107] 1 Cor. xiii.\n\n[108] As in the case of the _real presence_ in the sacrament of the\naltar.\n\n[109] As in the case of _good works_.\n\n[110] An ingenious writer, who appears not to have been hackneyed in\nthe ways of controversy, and is, therefore, the more likely to see\nthe truth, in any plain question of religion, as well as to declare\nit, expresses himself, fully, to the same effect\u2014\u201cIt is very weakly\nurged, that religion should keep pace with science in improvement; and\nthat a subscription to articles must always impede its progress: for\nnothing can be more absurd than the idea of a progressive religion;\nwhich, being founded upon the declared, not the imagined, will of God,\nmust, if it attempt to proceed, relinquish that Revelation which is\nits basis, and so cease to be a religion founded upon God\u2019s word. God\nhas revealed himself; and all that he has spoken, and consequently all\nthat is demanded of us to accede to, is declared in one book, from\nwhich nothing is to be retrenched, and to which nothing can be added.\nAll that it contains, was as perspicuous to those who first perused it,\nafter the rejection of the papal yoke, as it can be to us NOW, or as it\ncan be to our posterity in the FIFTIETH GENERATION.\u201d See _A Scriptural\nConfutation of Mr. Lindsey\u2019s Apology_. Lond. 1774. p. 220.\n\n[111] Rom. xi. 33.\n\n[112] Rom. x. 17.\n\n[113] 1 Cor. ix. 16.\n\n[114] Heb. iv. 12.\n\n[115] 1 Cor. xii. 7.\n\n[116]\n\n \u2014\u2014potus ut ille\n Dicitur ex collo furtim carpsisse coronas,\n Postquam est impransi correptus voce magistri.\n Hor. 2. Sat. iii. 254.\n\n[117] John xii. 48.\n\n[118] 2 Cor. iv. 7.\n\n[119] Matth. x. 16.\n\n[120] Cic. Off. L. i. c. 31.\n\n[121] See the Story of Musonius Rufus in Tacitus, Hist. L. iii. c. 81.\n\n[122] Cic. de Or. L. ii. c. 18.\n\n[123] Bene pr\u00e6cipiunt, qui vetant quidquam agere, quod dubites, \u00e6quum\nsit an iniquum: \u00e6quitas enim lucet ipsa per se; dubitatio cogitationem\nsignificat injuri\u00e6.\n Cic. de Off. L. I. ix.\n\n[124] Matth. v. 8.\n\n[125] To the same purpose, Seneca, of the old heathen philosophers:\n\u201cAntiqua sapientia,\u201d says he, \u201cnihil aliud, qu\u00e0m FACIENDA et VITANDA,\npr\u00e6cepit: et tunc long\u00e8 meliores erant viri: postquam docti prodierunt,\nboni desunt. Simplex enim illa et aperta virtus in obscuram et solertem\nscientiam versa est, docemurque disputare, non vivere.\u201d Senec. Ep. xcv.\n\n[126] Corrumpere et corrumpi, _s\u00e6culum_ vocatur. Tacitus.\n\n[127] Frequens imitatio transit in mores. Quinctil. L. I. c. XI.\n\n[128] _Vitam impendere vero._ His motto.\n\n[129] Mes ennemies auront beau faire avec leurs injures; ils ne\nm\u2019\u00f4teront point l\u2019honneur d\u2019\u00eatre un homme v\u00e9ridique en touts chose,\n_d\u2019\u00eatre le seul auteur de mon siecle, & de beaucoup d\u2019autres, qui ait\n\u00e9crit de bonne foi_.\n Rousseau, Lettre \u00e0 M. de Beaumont.\n\n[130] \u201cUne preuve de sa bonne foi, c\u2019est qu\u2019il [M. Newton] a comment\u00e9\nl\u2019Apocalypse. Il y trouve clairement que le Pape est l\u2019Antichrist, et\nil explique d\u2019ailleurs ce livre comme tous ceux qui s\u2019en sont m\u00eal\u00e9s.\nApparemment qu\u2019il a voulu par ce commentaire CONSOLER LA RACE HUMAINE\nde la sup\u00e9riorit\u00e9 qu\u2019il avoit sur elle.\u201d \u0152uvres de Voltaire, T. v. c.\n29. 1757.\n\n\u201cIf he [K. James I.] has composed a commentary on the Revelations,\nand proved the Pope to be Antichrist; may not a similar reproach be\nextended to the famous Napier; and even to NEWTON, at a time when\nlearning was much more advanced than during the reign of James? From\nthe grossness of its superstitions, we may infer the ignorance of an\nage; but never should pronounce concerning the FOLLY OF AN INDIVIDUAL,\nfrom his admitting popular errors, consecrated with the appearance of\nreligion.\u201d Hume\u2019s Hist. of Great Britain, Vol. VI. p. 136. Lond. 1763.\n8vo.\n\n[131]\n\n Nil actum credens, dum quid superesset agendum.\n Lucan.\n\n[132] HIPPIAS, THE ELEAN. Cic. de Oratore, c. 32.\n\n[133] SOCRATES.\n\n[134] 2 Cor. xii. 2.\n\n[135] 1 Cor. xiii. 2.\n\n[136] Philip. iii. 6.\n\n[137] Matt. v. 17.\n\n[138] BAYLE, Comm. Phil. Part II. Ch. IV. LOCKE on Toleration, Letter\nI. WARBURTON, D. L. B. v. S. 11.\n\n[139] 1 Tim. i. 15.\n\n[140] 1 Cor. xv. 9.\n\n[141] De se tromper en croyant vraie la religion Chr\u00e9tienne, il n\u2019y\na pas grand\u2019 chose \u00e0 perdre: mais quel malheur de se tromper en la\ncroyant fausse! M. Pascal, p. 225.\n\n[142] Plutarch. BRUTUS.\n\n[143] Of opening private letters, and employing spies of state.\nCLARENDON.\n\n[144] John x. 32.\n\n[145] \u201cIlla in illo homine mirabilia fuerunt, comprehendere multos\namiciti\u00e2, tueri obsequio, cum omnibus communicare quod habebat, servire\ntemporibus suorum omnium, pecuni\u00e2, grati\u00e2, labore corporis, scelere\netiam, si opus esset, et audaci\u00e2: versare suam naturam, et regere ad\ntempus, atque huc et illuc torquere et flectere; cum tristibus sever\u00e8,\ncum remissis jucunde; cum senibus graviter, cum juventute comiter; cum\nfacinorosis audacter, cum libidinosis luxurios\u00e8 vivero. H\u00e2c ille tam\nvari\u00e2 multiplicique natur\u00e2, &c.\u201d _Cicero pro M. C\u00e6lio_, c. iii.\n\n[146] Juventus pleraque, sed maxim\u00e8 _nobilium_, Catilin\u00e6 inc\u0153ptis\nfavebat. _Sallust._ c. 17. And again: omnino _cuncta plebes_, Catilin\u00e6\ninc\u0153pta probabat. c. 37.\n\n[147] 1 John iii. 21.\n\n[148] St. Ambrose. Apud Whitby.\n\n[149] John xviii. 31.\n\n[150] Rom. iii. 4.\n\n[151] The words \u03c4\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2, and _humilis_, are observed to be generally,\nif not always, used in a bad sense by the Greek and Latin writers.\n\n[152] Philipp. ii. 5. 8.\n\n[153] Matthew xvi. 24.\n\n[154] Matth. xxiii. 33.\n\n[155] Mark x. 21.\n\n[156] For it is with propositions, as with _characters_, in relation\nto which the language of the true moralist is: \u201cExplica, atque excute\nintelligentiam tuam, ut videas qu\u00e6 sit in e\u00e2 species, forma, et notio\nviri boni.\u201d\n Cic. de Off. l. III. c. 20.\n\n[157] Prov. ii. 4.\n\n[158] 1 Tim. v. 6.\n\n[159] Prov. ix. 8.\n\n[160] Queis humana sibi doleat natura negatis.\n Hor. I. S. i. 75.\n\n[161] Eccles. v. 11.\n\n[162] Prov. xvi. 25.\n\n[163] Prov. xxiii. 5.\n\n[164] Si hoc est _explere_, quod statim profundas.\n CIC. Phil. ii. 8.\n\n[165] Quid sumus, et quidnam victuri gignimur. PERSIUS.\n\n[166] 1 Tim. vi. 9.\n\n[167]\n\n Ardua res h\u00e6c est, opibus non tradere mores,\n Et c\u00f9m tot Cr\u0153sos viceris, esse Numam.\n MARTIAL, XI. vi.\n\n[168] Matth. xix. 23.\n\n[169] Ps. lxii. 10.\n\n[170] Luke xvi. 9.\n\n[171] 2 Cor. xiii. 14.\n\n[172] 1 Thess. iv. 8.\n\n[173] Acts xi. 16.\n\n[174] Eph. i. 13.\n\n[175] It was the easier to do this, as the Heathens had their Minerva\nand Diana, as well as grosser deities; and their vestal virgins too;\nthough, I doubt, in less numbers than the shameless votaries of the\nCorinthian Venus.\n See STRABO, L. viii. p. 378. Par. 1620.\n\n[176] Ps. xlvi. 4.\u2014lxxx. 1.\u2014xxvi. 8.\n\n[177] Nullis POLLUITUR casta domus stupris. HOR.\n\nCum castum amisit POLLUTO CORPORE florem. CATUL.\n\n[178] Dr. Whitby on the place.\n\n[179] Rom. vi. 21.\n\n[180] Job xx. 11.\n\n[181] Prov. xxi. 17.\n\n[182] The poet says well of such _stains_, as these;\n\n _Impress\u00e6 resident nec eluentur._\n CATULL.\n\n[183] SUET. J. C\u00e6sar, c. 45.\n\n[184] Ps. xxxvii. 38.\n\n[185] Eccles. c. xi. 9.\n\n[186] Pompey, who burnt the papers of Sertorius.\n\n[187] James iii. 2.\n\n\n[Transcriber\u2019s Note:\n\nInconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.\n\nGreek words beginning with \u03d6 have had the character replaced with \u03c0.]","title":"The works of Richard Hurd, volume 6 (of 8)","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":80822}