Title: The works of Richard Hurd, volume 7 (of 8)
Author: Hurd, Richard
Language: English
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  THE

  WORKS

  OF

  RICHARD HURD, D.D.

  LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.

  VOL. VII.

  Printed by J. Nichols and Son,
  Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.



  THE

  WORKS

  OF

  RICHARD HURD, D.D.

  LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.

  IN EIGHT VOLUMES.

  VOL. VII.

  [Illustration]

  LONDON:

  PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND.

  1811.



  THEOLOGICAL WORKS.

  VOL. III.



  SERMONS

  PREACHED AT

  LINCOLN’S-INN,

  BETWEEN THE YEARS 1765 AND 1776:

  WITH

  A LARGER DISCOURSE,

  ON

  CHRIST’S DRIVING THE MERCHANTS
  OUT OF THE TEMPLE;

  IN WHICH THE NATURE AND END OF THAT FAMOUS

  TRANSACTION IS EXPLAINED.

  SATIS ME VIXISSE ARBITRABOR, ET OFFICIUM
  HOMINIS IMPLESSE, SI LABOR MEUS ALIQUOS
  HOMINES, AB ERRORIBUS LIBERATOS, AD ITER
  CŒLESTE DIREXERIT.
                                LACTANTIUS.



CONTENTS

OF

THE SEVENTH VOLUME.


  SERMON XXIX. Preached March 21, 1773.

  ACTS xxiv. 24, 25.

  _After certain days, when Felix came with his
  wife Drusilla, which was a Jew, he sent
  for Paul, and heard him concerning the
  faith of Christ. And, as he reasoned of
  righteousness, temperance, and judgment to
  come, Felix trembled, and answered_, GO
  THY WAY FOR THIS TIME, WHEN I HAVE A
  CONVENIENT SEASON, I WILL CALL FOR
  THEE.                                                             1


  SERMON XXX. Preached Dec. 19, 1773.

  1 JOHN v. 11.

  _And this is the record, that God hath given to
  us eternal life; and_ THIS LIFE IS IN HIS
  SON.                                                             18


  SERMON XXXI. Preached June 12, 1774.

  GAL. vi. 8.

  _He that soweth to the Spirit, shall_ OF THE
  SPIRIT REAP LIFE EVERLASTING.                                    32


  SERMON XXXII. Preached June 19, 1774.

  2 COR. vii. 1.

  _Having therefore these promises (dearly beloved)
  let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness
  of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness
  in the fear of God._                                             46


  SERMON XXXIII. Preached April 28, 1776.

  1 TIM. iii. 16.

  _Without controversy great is the mystery of
  godliness: God was manifest in the flesh;
  justified in the spirit; seen of Angels;
  preached to the Gentiles; believed on in the
  world; received up into glory._                                  62


  SERMON XXXIV. Preached May 19, 1776.

  ISAIAH l. 11.

  _Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass
  yourselves about with sparks; Walk in the
  light of your fire, and in the sparks which
  ye have kindled: This shall ye have of my
  hand, ye shall lie down in sorrow._                              77


  SERMON XXXV. Preached Nov. 15, 1767.

  2 COR. iv. 3.

  _If our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that
  are lost._                                                       95


  SERMON XXXVI. Preached Nov. 13, 1774.

  1 PETER iii. 15.

  _—Be ready always to give an answer to every
  man that asketh you a reason of the hope
  that is in you, with meekness and fear._                        110


  SERMON XXXVII. Preached Feb. 4, 1770.

  JOHN vii. 46.

  _Never man spake like this man._                                124


  SERMON XXXVIII. Preached Nov. 20, 1774.

  MATTH. xiii. 10.

  _The Disciples came, and said unto him, Why
  speakest Thou to them in Parables?_                             143


  SERMON XXXIX. Preached Nov. 27, 1774.

  MATTH. xiii. 58.

  _And he did not many mighty works there, because
  of their unbelief._                                             159


  SERMON XL. Preached May 23, 1773.

  2 COR. iv. 5.

  _We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the
  Lord._                                                          176


  SERMON XLI. Preached. Dec. 15, 1771.

  MATTH. xi. 5.

  _The Poor have the Gospel preached unto
  them._                                                          193


  SERMON XLII. Preached Jan. 24, 1773.

  JOHN xiv. 2.

  _In my Father’s house are many mansions: if
  it were not so, I would have told you._                         210


  SERMON XLIII. Preached May 5, 1776.

  JOHN xvi. 12, 13.

  _I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye
  cannot bear them now. Howbeit, when he,
  the Spirit of truth, shall come, he will guide
  you into all truth: for he shall not speak
  of himself; but whatsoever he shall hear,
  that shall he speak: and he will shew you
  things to come._                                                222


  SERMON XLIV. Preached May 29, 1774. T.S.

  ACTS i. 11.

  _Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up
  into heaven? This same Jesus, which is taken
  up from you, shall so come, in like manner
  as ye have seen him go into heaven._                            237


  SERMON XLV. Preached June 23, 1776.

  St. MATTH. xiii. 55, 56.

  _Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his
  mother called Mary? And his brethren,
  James and Joses and Simon and Judas?
  And his sisters, are not they all with us?
  Whence then hath this man all these things?
  And they were offended in him._                                 253


  SERMON XLVI. Preached Feb. 4, 1776.

  JAMES iv. 7.

  _Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you._                  267


  SERMON XLVII. Preached March 29, 1772.

  PROV. xvi. 6.

  _By the fear of the Lord men depart from
  evil._                                                          283


  SERMON XLVIII. Preached May 31, 1772.

  1 COR. vi. 12.

  _All things are lawful unto, me; but all things
  are not expedient: All things are lawful for
  me; but I will not be brought under the
  power of any._                                                  296


  SERMON XLIX. Preached July 5, 1772.

  MATTH. v. 38, 39, 40, 41.

  _Ye have heared that it hath been said, an eye
  for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. But I
  say unto you, that ye resist not evil: but
  whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek,
  turn to him the other also: And, if any
  man will sue thee at the law, and take away
  thy coat, let him have thy cloak also: And
  whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile,
  go with him twain._                                             310


  SERMON L. Preached May 14, 1775.

  LUKE ix. 26.

  _Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my
  words, of him shall the Son of man be
  ashamed, when he shall come in his own
  glory and in his Father’s, and of the holy
  Angels._                                                        327


  SERMON LI. Preached May 21, 1775.

  LUKE ix. 26.

  _Whosoever shall be ashamed of me, and of my
  words, of him shall the Son of man be
  ashamed, when he shall come in his own
  glory, and in his Father’s, and of the holy
  Angels._                                                        341


  SERMON LII. Preached Jan. 29, 1775.

  St. MATTH. xvi. 18.

  _I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter, and upon
  this rock I will build my Church; and the
  gates of Hell shall not prevail against it._                    354


  SERMON LIII. Preached Feb. 5, 1775.

  St. MATTH. xvi. 18.

  _And I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter,
  and upon this rock will I build my Church,
  and the gates of Hell shall not prevail
  against it._                                                    367


  A LARGER DISCOURSE, _by way of Commentary,
  on that remarkable Part of the Gospel-history,
  in which Jesus is represented, as
  driving the Buyers and Sellers out of the
  Temple_[1].                                                     383



SERMON XXIX.

PREACHED MARCH 21, 1773.

ACTS xxiv. 24, 25.

_After certain days, when Felix came with his wife Drusilla, which was a
Jewess, he sent for Paul, and heard him concerning the faith of Christ.
And, as he reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come,
Felix trembled, and answered_, GO THY WAY FOR THIS TIME; WHEN I HAVE A
CONVENIENT SEASON, I WILL CALL FOR THEE.


This Felix, whose name is become so memorable in the Christian church,
had been made Procurator of Judæa by the Emperor Claudius, and continued
in that government during the six or seven first years of Nero: when
he was recalled to answer for his oppressive administration before the
emperor; who, we are told, would have punished him, according to his
deserts, but for the interposition of Pallas, at that time Nero’s chief
minister.

He was, indeed, in all respects a very corrupt and profligate man, as
appears from the testimony of Tacitus[2] and Josephus[3]; from whom we
learn, that he was more especially addicted to the vices of _lust and
cruelty_; both which he exercised in the most audacious manner; vexing
the people with all sorts of oppression, and rioting in his excesses,
without restraint. Drusilla, too, is represented to us in a light, not
much more favourable. For, though a Jewess, and the wife of another man,
she had contracted a marriage, or rather lived in adultery with this
pagan governor of Judæa; transgressing at once both a moral and positive
law of her religion, for the sake of ascending to that honour.

One would wonder how persons of this character should have any curiosity
to _hear Paul concerning the faith of Christ_. And, without doubt,
they had no serious desire of information. It is likely they proposed
to themselves some entertainment from questioning the prisoner; and the
presence of Drusilla makes it credible that the entertainment was chiefly
designed for _her_; who might be a bigot to her religion, though she
scorned to live up to it; and therefore wanted, we may suppose, to insult
Jesus in the person of his disciple.

However, let their purpose be what it would, such were FELIX and
DRUSILLA, before whom Paul _reasoned of righteousness, temperance, and a
judgment to come_.

Paul was not in the number of those complaisant preachers, who take a
text, in which their hearers have no concern. He had to do with persons,
who bade defiance to religion in all its forms; and his subject was well
suited to the occasion. They expected an amusing tale of Jesus Christ:
but the Apostle, who knew how unworthy they were of being instructed in
the faith, as not yet possessing the fist principles of morals, took up
the matter a great deal higher; and, discoursing to them on the natural
duties of justice and temperance, which they had grossly violated, and
on the natural doctrine of a judgment to come, which they had never
believed or respected, gave them to understand, that they had much to
learn, or practise at least, before they were fit hearers of what he had
further to say concerning the Christian revelation.

Being taken at this advantage, we may easily conceive their surprise and
disappointment: and, as the speaker knew how to give an energy to his
discourse on these interesting topics, we cannot wonder, that one or both
of them should be much discomposed by it. Of Drusilla the sacred text
says nothing: she was, perhaps, the more skilful dissembler of the two;
or her rage and indignation might, for the moment, get the better of her
fears: but Felix had not the address, or the fortune, to disguise his
feelings; he _trembled_ before this plain, intrepid speaker.

This event is instructive, indeed, as it sets before us the power of
conscience over the worst of men; and, at the same time, the meanness
of guilt, which, in such place and dignity, could not help shrinking at
the voice of truth, though speaking by the mouth of a poor dependant
prisoner. But when we have made the proper use of these reflexions, on
the case of Felix, we shall find a still more instructive lesson in _the
subsequent conduct of this affrighted sinner_.

When the fit of trembling came upon him, he said hastily to the preacher:
_Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call
for thee._

How striking a picture of that fatal disposition which men have to put
off repentance, even under the fullest conviction of guilt; and that too,
on the most frivolous pretences! What Felix should have done instantly,
when his conscience was so much alarmed, he omits to do: _Go thy way for
this time_: and yet, to quiet that conscience, he would not be thought to
lay aside all purpose of reformation: _When I have a convenient season, I
will call for thee._

With this famous example in my eye, I shall attempt to shew in the
following discourse: 1. _That_ PROCRASTINATION _is the usual support of
vice_: 2. _That false reasoning_, or, what we may call, _the_ SOPHISTRY
OF VICE, _is the great support of procrastination_: 3. That a FINAL
IMPENITENCE is the too common effect of this pernicious confederacy. And

I. PROCRASTINATION is the main support of vice; the favourite stratagem,
by which the grand deceiver himself ensnares the souls of men, and
maintains his empire over them.

There are few persons so desperately wicked but they resolve, secretly
at least, and in their own minds, to amend their bad lives, at some time
or other. But that time is rarely the present. They have other business
in hand: some scheme of interest to manage, some project of ambition to
pursue, some intrigue of pleasure to accomplish; in short, some darling
sin or other to gratify, before they can be at leisure to execute this
intended work of reformation.

Nay, there are seasons of recollection, in which the memory of their past
lives afflicts and torments them; there are hours of melancholy, or ill
health, in which the necessity of repentance seems pressing and instant;
there are certain moments of terror, in which the final resolution is on
the point of being taken: yet still, this delusive idea of _to-morrow_
steps in: the memory, the necessity, the terror, are over-ruled: the
ungrateful task is, for the present, deferred; to-morrow laid aside, and
the next day forgotten.

This was the case of Felix in the text. When bad men are clothed with
power, it is not easy for truth of any kind, especially for moral truth,
to gain access to them. Yet it made its way to this potent governor,
and with a force which nothing could resist. It borrowed the thunder of
Paul’s rhetoric to speak home and loudly to his affrighted conscience.
It shook his guilty mind with the sense of his crimes, his incontinence
and injustice, his riot and rapine, his lust and cruelty; and still more,
with the apprehension of _a judgment to come_, armed with terror, and
ready to take vengeance of his multiplied iniquities.

You expect now, that, in this agony, he should take the part, which duty
and prudence, his conviction and his fears, equally recommended to him.
You expect, that he should apply to his instructor, who had raised this
storm, to compose it; and that, leaving his chair of state, he should
spring forth and accost his prisoner, as the honest jaylor at Philippi
had done, on a similar occasion: _What must I do to be saved[4]?_ But,
no; it was not yet convenient to put that question. His pleasures, his
fortune, his ambition, might be endangered by it. It was not the moment
to take this decisive step. Better to think twice of it, and dismiss the
preacher _for this time_.

And is there nothing in this case which we may apply to ourselves? Is
there none here, whom the free remonstrance of a friend, an unexpected
sentence in a moral writer, the admonition of a preacher, and, above
all, the _word of God_, hath, at any time, awakened to a lively sense
of his condition? A reproof from one or other of these sometimes falls
in so exactly with a man’s own case, and goes so directly to the heart,
that he is more than commonly disturbed and confounded by it. It flashes
such conviction on the mind, and shews the sinner to himself in so just
a light, that he stands aghast at the deformity of his conduct, and at
the peril of it. In the agitation of this distress, he half resolves to
repent: nay, he strives for a moment to enforce this good resolution:
when, let but that dæmon, which every sinner carries about with him,
whisper the word, _to-morrow_, and his conscience revives, his fears
disperse, and this precious opportunity is lost, though at the hazard of
never returning any more.

Not that he permits this idle insinuation to banish all thoughts of
future repentance, or to prevail with him, for the present, in its true
and proper form: No: to be thus far the dupe of his own folly, would
disgrace him too much, and expose his prevarication too plainly: if it
pass upon him, it shall be under the mask of wisdom. He turns sophister
then in his own defence, and is easily convinced, “That his conduct is
not altogether absurd or unreasonable.”

And thus, as I proposed to shew,

II. In the next place, this fatal procrastination, which supports vice,
is itself supported by a READY AND CONVENIENT SOPHISTRY.

The case of Felix will again illustrate this second observation; and shew
us the whole process of that preverted ingenuity, by which the credulous
mind is made easy under its delusion.

He thought it not sufficient to say to Paul; _Go thy way for this time_.
This abrupt dismission of the preacher was to be justified, in some sort,
to himself, and to those who were witnesses of his consternation. He
covers it, then, with this pretence; _When I have a convenient season, I
will call for thee_.

The TIME, it seems, was not proper for his immediate conversion. To
become a penitent just then; on the instant; to be surprised into a good
life, had the appearance of too much facility and inconsideration. He
must take a space to reflect on the grounds and reasons of what had been
offered to him. He had, besides, other affairs, which pressed upon him at
this moment: or, if not, to deliberate on the matter, would render his
conversion more solemn and effectual.

The PLACE, too, we may believe, was as little suited, as the time,
to this business. “What! in a public apartment of his palace! in the
presence of Drusilla, whose tenderest interests were concerned in the
case, and whose delicacy required managing! before his pagan courtiers,
and many, we may suppose, of his Jewish subjects, who would be equally
scandalized at this precipitate conversion of their master and governor!”
These, and other pretences of the like sort, without doubt, occurred to
him: and on the strength of these he concludes his procrastination to be
fit, and decent, and justifiable, in a good degree, on the principles of
virtue and prudence.

“But why, unhappy man (if one may presume to expostulate the case with
thee) why this hasty and unweighed conclusion? Could there be any time
more convenient for thy conversion, or any place more suitable, if thou
wert in earnest to be converted?

Wast thou ever so prepared for this change as now? Was thy mind ever so
convinced, or thy heart so affected? Didst thou ever hear and _tremble_
till this day, and wilt thou expect such a miracle a second time? Can thy
bad life be reformed too soon, or can it need an afterthought to justify
such reformation? Can any other business come in competition with this?
and can it deserve the name of weakness and surprise to give way to the
powerful workings of thy own conscience? In a doubtful case, it may be
well to deliberate: but can it be a secret even to thyself, that nothing
is questionable here, but thy sincerity?

For what, let me ask, is that _convenient season_, which flatters thy
present irresolution? Wilt thou find such a monitor, as Paul, in thy
dependants? Will thy tax-gatherers preach _righteousness_ to thee, and
thy centurions, _temperance_? or, thy philosophers (if, perhaps, thou
hast of these about thee, to grace thy provincial pomp) will they reason
with thee, on a _judgment to come_?

But the PLACE is unfit; and thou wilt send for Paul to confer in private
with thee.

Wast thou then afraid to expose thy honour by this step? And did it seem
too much to give to God and truth, the glory of thy conversion? True
penitence knows nothing of these punctilios. The example had edified
thy unbelieving court; and might have had its effect on the insensible
Drusilla. Thy injustice and incontinence had been open to all men. Was it
not fit thou shouldst atone for this scandal by as public a reformation?
Yet still thy pretence is, _a convenient season_! As if the first
season, that offers for renouncing a bad life, were not always the most
convenient.”

But I continue this address to the Roman governor too long, if you
consider me as directing it to him only. Let me profess, then, that by
Felix I mean every sinner at this day, who procrastinates in the affair
of his salvation, and would colour that procrastination by a still more
contemptible sophistry. For, let us be ingenuous. This miserable Pagan,
after all, had something to say for himself. This was, probably, the
only time that repentance had ever been preached to him. He still,
perhaps, was acquainted with little more than the name of Jesus: for his
teacher, as we have seen, insisted chiefly on the great truths of natural
religion. If he then scrupled to take the benefit of this first and
imperfect lecture, there is some allowance to be made for his folly. But
what shall we say of those who possess every possible advantage of light
and knowledge, who have grown up in the profession of Christianity, and
are not now to learn either its duties or terrors? If such as these have
sinned themselves into the condition of Felix, and yet resist the calls
of grace, the commands of the Gospel, the exhortations of its ministers,
the admonitions of their own conscience, all of them concurring to
press upon them an immediate repentance; if there be among us such
procrastinators as these, what topics of defence are there by which they
can hope to excuse, or so much as palliate, their prodigious infatuation?

“Shall we say for them, or will they say for themselves, that they are
young and healthy? that they have time enough before them, in which
to grow wise at their leisure? that they wait till the boisterous
passions have been calmed by reason and experience? that they expect _a
convenient season_ for repentance, in declining life, and the languor of
old age? or that they shall find it, as others have done, on the bed of
sickness, or on the bed of death?”

I have never heard that Christians have any better reasons than these for
delaying repentance: and, if they have not, though the sophistry of Felix
deserved to be laid open, the respect I owe to those who now hear me,
will not permit me to imagine that such sophistry as this, can want to be
exposed.

It will be to better purpose to set before you,

III. In the last place, the issue of this too natural alliance between
procrastination and vice, in a FINAL IMPENITENCE; of which the case of
Felix, again, affords us a striking example.

_When I have a convenient season_, says he to Paul, _I will call for
thee_. This season came, and Paul attended; to what effect, we shall now
understand.

When Felix dismissed him from his presence, he insinuated, nay perhaps
thought, that he should have a disposition hereafter to profit by his
religious instructions. But time and bad company quieted his fears: and
a favourite vice inspired other motives for the interview, than those of
religion. _For he hoped_, says the historian, _that money should have
been given him of Paul, that he might loose him: wherefore he sent for
him the oftener, and communed with him_.

The case, we see, is well altered. He _trembled_ before at Paul’s charge
against him of rapine and extortion: he would now exercise these very
vices on Paul himself. Such was the fruit of that _convenient season_,
which was to have teemed with better things!

But this is not all: _For, after two years Portius Festus came into
Felix’s room; and Felix, willing to shew the Jews a pleasure, left Paul
bound_.

Felix then had his preacher within call for _two whole years_: time
sufficient, one would think, to afford the opportunity of many a lecture
_concerning the faith of Christ_. Yet, though he communed with Paul
oft, it does not appear that his conferences with him turned on this
subject. What he wanted to draw from him was, not truth, but money; and,
when this hope failed, he was little concerned about the rest. Nay, the
impression which Paul had made upon him was so entirely effaced, that he
left an innocent man _in bonds_, for the sake of _doing a pleasure to
the Jews_. But he had his reason still for this unwonted courtesy. For
their complaints were ready to follow him (as indeed they did) to the
throne of Cæsar; whither he went, at last, unrepentant and unreformed, to
encounter, as he could, the rigors of imperial justice; just as so many
others, by the like misuse of time and opportunity, expose themselves to
all the terrors of divine.

Not but there is yet this advantage in the parallel on the side of
_Felix_. He neglected to use the space of _two years_, which was
mercifully allowed him for the season of reformation: but how many
Christians omit this work, not for _two_ only, but for twenty, forty
years; nay, for the whole extent of a long life; and never find a
_convenient season_ for doing the only thing, which it greatly concerns
them to do, although with the astonishing delusion of always intending it.

To conclude: We have seen that procrastination serves the ends of vice;
and that vice, in return, is but too successful in pleading the cause of
procrastination: leaving between them this salutary lesson to mankind,
“That he who seriously intends to repent to-morrow, should in all reason
begin to-day; _to-day_, as the Apostle admonishes, _while it is called
to-day, lest the heart_, in the mean time, _be hardened through the
deceitfulness of sin_[5].”



SERMON XXX.

PREACHED DECEMBER 19, 1773.

1 JOHN v. 11.

_And this is the record that God hath given to us, eternal life; and_
THIS LIFE IS IN HIS SON.


We are indebted to the Gospel for the knowledge and hope we have of
eternal life; this important doctrine having, _first_, been delivered by
Jesus Christ, and _only_ by him, on any proper grounds of authority. This
then is the _record_, or the substance of what the Gospel _testifies_ and
affirms, _That God hath given to us eternal life: and this life_, adds
the Apostle, IS IN HIS SON: that is, he _procured_ this blessing for us;
he is not only the teacher, but the _author_ of eternal life.

This last is a distinct and very momentous consideration. Reason might
seem to have some part in discovering, or at least in confirming, the
doctrine itself: but the _manner_ of conveying the inestimable gift
of eternal life, whether _immediately_ from the giver of it, or by
the _mediation_ of some other, this is a matter of pure revelation;
and reason hath nothing more to do in the case, than to see that the
revelation is, indeed, made, and then with all humility to acquiesce in
it.

Being, then, to treat this sublime subject, _the redemption of mankind
through Christ_, I shall do it simply in the _terms_ of scripture, or at
least with a scrupulous regard to the plain and obvious _sense_ of them.
The text says, _eternal life is in the Son of God_; and my discourse must
be merely a _scriptural comment_ on this declaration.

Now, the scripture teaches, that immortality was originally, and from the
beginning, the free gift of God to man, on the condition of his obeying
a certain law, or command, prescribed to him: whether that command be
interpreted _literally_, of not eating the fruit of the forbidden tree
in paradise, as we read in the second and third chapters of Genesis; or
_allegorically_, of some other prohibition, expressed agreeably to the
oriental genius, in these terms. This diversity of interpretation makes
no difference in the case: whatever the test of man’s disobedience was,
the will of the law-giver is clearly announced: If thou art guilty of
disobedience, _thou shalt surely die_[6].

Obedience, then, had the promise of _continued_ life; the penalty
threatened to disobedience, was _death_: which was only saying, that the
gift freely bestowed on a certain condition (and surely what man had no
right to demand, might be offered on what terms the giver pleased) should
be withdrawn on the breach of it. The loss, indeed, was immense; but
to the loser no wrong was done: and of him who recalled the free gift,
conditionally bestowed, and justly forfeited, no complaint, in reason,
can be made.

But to what purpose, some will ask, to give that with one hand, which was
presently to be withdrawn by the other? for the best reason, no doubt,
whether conceivable by us, or not. However, the sad event was certainly
foreseen: and, what is more, such provision was made against it, as to
infinite wisdom and goodness seemed meet.

By contemplating the gradual steps of Providence, as we are able to trace
them in the revelation itself, we understand, that it was in the eternal
purpose of the divine Governor to restore life to fallen and mortal man,
as _freely_ as it had been at first bestowed, and on _terms_ still more
advantageous him. But _the ways of heaven are not as our ways_, nor to
be regulated by our impatient wishes, or expectations. What man, in a
moment, had wantonly thrown away, he was to recover once more; but in
God’s good time; not instantly, but after a long succession of ages, and
such a state of intermediate discipline and preparation, as might best
serve to introduce the intended blessing with effect.

Man, then was to be reinstated in his forfeited inheritance: and the
_promise_ was made, though purposely in obscure terms, from the moment
the forfeiture was incurred. In process of time, it was less, and still
less obscurely signified; yet so as that the full discovery of what was
intended, and, still more, the execution of it, was long deferred.

At length, Jesus Christ came into the world to fulfill and to declare
the whole will of God on this interesting subject: and from him, and
from those commissioned by him, we learn what the wisest men, and even
_angels_, _had desired to look into_, and could at most discern but
imperfectly through the types and shadows of the patriarchal and Mosaic
dispensations.

The great mystery, now unveiled, was briefly this: that God of his
infinite goodness had, indeed, from the foundation of the world, purposed
the restoration of eternal life to his unworthy creature, man; but that
in his wisdom he saw fit to confer this unmerited blessing in a way, that
should at once secure the honour of his government; and, if any thing
could secure it, the future obedience and happiness of his creature:
that he would only confer this mighty privilege at the instance, as
it were, and for the sake of a transcendantly divine person, his only
begotten Son, the second person in the glorious Trinity, as we now style
him: that this divine person; of his own free will co-operating with the
_eternal purpose_[7] of the all-gracious Father, should descend from
Heaven; should become incarnate; should as man, converge with men, and
instruct them by his heavenly doctrine; should taste deeply of all their
sorrows and infirmities (_sin only excepted_); should even pour out his
blood unto death, and by that blood should wash away the stain of guilt;
and, on the condition of _faith_ in his name, operating, as of course
it must do, by a sincere obedience to his authority, should admit us,
once more, to the possession of eternal happiness; of which, finally,
we have a _lively_ and certain hope, in that he who had laid down his
life, had power to take it again, as was declared to all the world by his
resurrection from the dead[8].

In this awfully stupendous manner (at which reason stands aghast, and
faith herself is half confounded) was the Grace of God to man, at length,
manifested: and thus it is, when we come a little to unfold the _record_,
or testimony of the Gospel, that _God hath given to as eternal life_; and
that _this life is in his Son_.

Curious men have perplexed themselves and others by inquiring into the
nature of this astonishing scheme, and have seemed half inclined not to
accept so _great salvation_, till they could reconcile it to their ideas
of philosophy. Hence those endless altercations concerning _merit,
satisfaction, imputed sin, and vicarious punishment_; in which it is
hard to say, whether more subtlety has been shewn, or more perverseness;
more ingenuity, or presumption. If most of these questions were well
examined, it would appear, perhaps, that they are mere verbal disputes,
and as frivolous as they are contentious. But, be the difference between
the parties nominal or real, this we are sure of, without taking part in
the controversy, that the scriptures speak of the _death_ of Christ, as
a _ransom for many_[9]; _the price of our redemption_[10]; _a sacrifice
for us_[11]; _a propitiation for the sins of the whole world_[12]: that
they speak of Christ himself, _as dying for us_[13], _as bearing our sins
in his own body on the tree_[14]; as _suffering for sins, the just for
the unjust_[15]; as _tasting death for every man_[16]; _as giving himself
for us, an offering and sacrifice to God_[17]; as _justifying us by his
blood_[18]; and _redeeming us by the price of it_[19]: with a multitude
of other passages to the same purpose. Now let men use what art they
will in torturing such expressions as these; they will hardly prevent
our seeing what the plain doctrine of scripture is, “That it pleased
God to give us eternal life only _in his Son_; and in his Son _only_ as
suffering and dying for us.”

But in this consideration the whole mystery consists; how to be fully
cleared up to our reason, men may dispute if they will, and they will
dispute the rather, because the subject is out of their sphere, and
beyond their comprehension. Whether God _could_ accept such a sacrifice
for sin as the death of his own Son, many have presumptuously asked.
Whether he _could not_ have given life to man, in another way, some have
more modestly doubted: but the issue of all this arrogant or needless
curiosity, is but the discovery of their own weakness, on the one hand,
and the confession of this stupendous truth, on the other; That God
did not see fit to bestow eternal salvation on mankind, but in his own
appointed way, through Christ Jesus.

In this momentous truth, then, enough for us to know, let us humbly
acquiesce, and leave to others the vanity of disputing the grounds of it.

But, though the reasons of this dispensation be inscrutable to us, the
measure of its _influence_, some think, they have the means to discover.
For it seems to follow from St. Paul’s assertion, that, _as in Adam all
died, so in Christ shall all be made alive_[20]; and from the idea given
us of the Redeemer, as of _the lamb slain from the foundation of the
world_[21]; that the benefits of Christ’s death extend to all men, of all
times, and are, in the proper sense of the word, _universal_. Only it is
to be remembered, that, if all men have an interest in Christ, whether
they know it or not, _we_ who do know what our interest in him is, have
infinitely the advantage of them, and are inexcusable, if we reject it.

Thus far then we go upon safe grounds, and affirm without hesitation,
that _God_, through his mercies in Christ Jesus, _is the Saviour of all
men_, but _especially of them that believe_[22].

Another consideration, and of the utmost moment, is yet behind. Though
eternal life be now again bestowed on mankind, this gift is not one and
the same thing to all, but is differently modified according to the
different conduct of those to whom it is given. All shall _live_; but
whether to happiness, or misery, and to what degree of _either_, will
depend on the use of those advantages, whether of nature or grace, which
every one enjoys. Not, that any degree of eternal happiness is, or can
be strictly due to any man, but that the several degrees of it will be
_proportioned_ to our respective moral and religious qualifications. To
have done otherwise, would have been to confound the order of things,
and to appoint a scheme of salvation, which must utterly extinguish all
virtuous industry among men. Hence, we are told, that the righteous shall
shine out in different degrees of happiness, _as one star differeth from
another star in glory_[23].

In like manner, they who shall be found worthy, not of happiness, but
misery, will be sentenced to several allotments of it, by the same equal
rule.

It may seem, perhaps, that, as our best works could not _merit_ eternal
life in happiness, so our worst cannot _deserve_ eternal life in misery.
But let us take care how we push our inquiries into this aweful subject.
In rewarding obedience, the _divine goodness_ is chiefly displayed; and
who shall presume to set bounds to it? But, in punishing disobedience,
the _divine Wisdom_, of which we conceive much more imperfectly, is
mainly concerned: and what examples of severity in the punishment of
incorrigibly impenitent offenders, after such means as have been devised
to reclaim them, and for the support of his moral government over more
worlds than we have any idea of, this attribute may demand, we shall do
well, with all submission and modesty, to leave unexplored.

Still, what is just, that is, what is right and fit, on the whole,
undoubtedly take place: but we _are_ not, we _cannot_, be competent
judges of what is fit and right in this instance. It will be safest to
rely, without further inquiry, on the general declaration of him, who
was not only our Redeemer, but shall one day be our merciful judge:
_These_, says he, [that is, the wicked] _shall go away into everlasting
punishment: but the righteous into life eternal_[24].

What remains on this subject, is only to admonish you of those
_relations_, in which we stand towards the Author of our salvation, and
the correspondent _duties_ they impose upon us. I can but just point out
these _relations_ and _duties_: though they deserve to be inculcated (as,
in fact, they have been, by the sacred writers) with all the force of
eloquent persuasion, that words can give.

With regard, to the supreme cause of all things, who is of himself only
the source, and principle of deity, and the original author of our
salvation, God, thus understood, is graciously pleased to present himself
to us in the Gospel, under the idea of THE FATHER, and to consider us in
the tender relation of _sons_. We owe him, therefore, all possible filial
love and reverence, and must so conceive of his part in the mystery of
our redemption, as to refer all the fruits of it, ultimately, _to the
glory of God the Father_[25].

In subordination to the _Father_, HE in whom we have eternal life, is
our _friend_[26], and therefore entitled to our warmest love: he is our
greatest _benefactor_[27], and therefore claims our utmost gratitude:
he is our only _master_[28], and of course, must be followed with all
observance: he is our _redeemer_, and _sole mediator between God and
man_[29]; therefore he challenges an implicit, an exclusive trust and
confidence from us: he is the appointed _judge_ of the world[30];
therefore to be regarded with the humblest fear and veneration: lastly,
he is _the only begotten Son of God_[31], nay _our Lord and our God_[32];
to whom therefore we are to pay transcendant honour, so as _to honour,
the Son even as we honour the Father_[33].

These are some, the chief of those duties, which, as Christians, we are
bound to perform towards the Author of our salvation. The _relations_
from which they spring, could not be discovered by the light of nature;
but, when made known to us by revelation, they require as certainly, and
as reasonably, the several _duties_ which correspond to them, as the
_relations_ in which we stand to God and man, as discoverable by nature
only, require their respective _duties_.

You see, then, the sphere of a Christian’s duty is much enlarged beyond
that of the natural man: and not in these instances only, for the gospel
has made known another divine _person_, (so we are obliged to speak)
_the holy Spirit of God_, who stands in a distinct relation to us; and
to whom, therefore, his proper and peculiar honour is due. But of this
divine person in the glorious Trinity, I shall find another occasion to
lay before you, at large, what the scriptures have brought to light.

For the present, it may suffice to have put you in mind of what we are
taught concerning _the grace of God in his Son Jesus Christ_; to the end
that, religiously observing all the duties which this revealed doctrine
requires of us, we may fully correspond to the gracious intentions of the
revealer, by having _our fruit unto holiness_; and _the end, everlasting
life. For the wages of sin_ (be it ever remembered) _is death: but
eternal life is the gift of God through Jesus Christ our Lord[34]: To
whom be all praise, thanksgiving, and honour, now and for evermore.
Amen._



SERMON XXXI.

PREACHED JUNE 12, 1774.

GAL. vi. 8.

_He that soweth to the spirit, shall_ OF THE SPIRIT REAP LIFE EVERLASTING.


Without staying to point out the immediate occasion of these words, or
to enumerate and define the several senses of the word _spirit_, in
sacred scripture, it is sufficient to my present purpose to observe,
that the text affirms _a general and fundamental truth of the Gospel_,
more clearly and particularly explained elsewhere. It is this: That he
who in this life conducts himself according to the rules and admonitions
of God’s holy spirit, which the Apostle calls, _sowing to the spirit_,
shall, through the influence of the same spirit, obtain, that is, in the
Apostle’s figurative style, _shall reap, life everlasting_.

But, what! you will say, everlasting life is the _gift of God through
Christ_: how is it then that we receive this gift at the hands of
another, of _God’s holy spirit_?

To resolve this difficulty, and to open to you at the same time the
Christian doctrine of grace, together with the concern which we have in
it, I shall consider,

I. In what _sense_ we are to understand the assertion, _That everlasting
life is of the spirit_.

II. In what _way_ this blessing is conferred upon us; under which head I
shall have occasion to set forth the several _offices and operations_ of
the holy Spirit.

III. Lastly, what _returns of duty_, as corresponding to these _offices_
of the Spirit, and as resulting from the _relations_ in which we stand
towards him, are, in consequence of this revelation, reasonably required
of us.

I. To understand in what _sense_ the scriptures assert _everlasting
life to be of the spirit_, it will be necessary to form to ourselves a
distinct idea of the divine œconomy in the whole work of our redemption;
which (to sum up briefly what is revealed to us) appears to have been
conducted in the following manner.

God the Father of his mere grace, purposed and _willed_[35], from all
eternity, the restoration of _life_ to man, after his forfeiture of it by
disobedience: but he saw fit to make our _title_ to this free gift depend
on the death and sacrifice of his son Jesus Christ: and, lastly, to give
the _actual possession_ of it only through the ministration of his holy
Spirit.

The whole of this process is full of wonder; but there is no
contradiction, or inconsistency in its several parts.

However, to open the œconomy of this dispensation a little more
distinctly, it is to be observed, that eternal life may be taken in
two senses. It may either imply _a mere state of_ ENDLESS EXISTENCE;
and, in this sense, it is solely and properly the gift of God through
Christ; _for as in Adam all died, even so in Christ shall all be made
alive_[36]: Or, it may mean, what it always does mean in those passages
of scripture, where it is magnified so much, _a state of_ HAPPINESS, in
that existence; and then only a capacity of being put into this state is
procured for us by the Redeemer. But this capacity, this _grace of God_,
may be _frustrated by us_[37], may even turn against is, if we be not
duly prepared to enjoy that _happiness_ of which we are made capable; and
such _preparation_, is the proper distinctive work of God’s holy spirit.

Further, to see the necessity, the importance at least, of such
preparation, we are to reflect, that, by the fall of man, not only life
was forfeited, but the powers of his mind were weakened. Transgression
had clouded his understanding, and perverted his will. He neither saw his
duty so clearly as before, nor was disposed to perform it so vigorously.
And this depravation of his faculties, we easily conceive, _might_, as
an original taint, be transmitted to his posterity; nay, we certainly
feel that it _is_ so: yet, without any imputation on the author of our
being, who might have placed us in this disadvantageous state, if he
had pleased, from the beginning; and to whom we are accountable for the
right use of the advantages we have, not of those we have not. Still, the
purity of God’s nature might require what his wisdom has decreed, that
_without holiness no man shall see the Lord_[38], and that Jesus should
be _the author of eternal salvation to those_ only, who, in a higher
degree than our fallen nature of itself permits, _obey him_[39]. And this
change in our moral condition from bad to good, from a propensity to
evil to a love of righteousness, is called in scripture, _a renewing of
our minds_, _a new creation_, _a new man_; in opposition to the former
so different state of our minds, which is called _the old man corrupted
according to the deceitful lusts_[40].

For the _change_ itself, it is represented in scripture as proceeding,
not from the virtue of our own minds, but from the influence of the Holy
Ghost upon them[41]: and when it has taken place in us, then, and not
till then, is _our election sure_, and we are _made heirs according to
the hope of eternal life_[42].

This extraordinary provision for restoring man to the image of God,
to _the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true
holiness_[43], is what reason could not have hoped for, but, when made
known by revelation, seems to have been expedient, may be conceived to
have been even necessary, and is clearly an expression of the divine
goodness, which, though it fill our minds very justly with wonder, well
as gratitude, none of our natural notions contradict.

We see, then, in general, _how_ the new man receives the gift of eternal
life from the spirit. Let us now consider more particularly,

II. In the second place, in what _way_ this new creation is carried on
and perfected in us. And here we shall find all the marks of that wisdom
and fitness, which are discernable in the thing itself.

_For_ we are _renewed in the spirit of our minds_[44], _by the teaching
of the spirit of truth_[45], _through sanctification of the spirit_[46],
and _comfort of the Holy Ghost_[47]: that is, we have a new and better
turn given to our minds, by the light derived into them from the spirit;
by the good thoughts and purposes which he excites in them; and by the
joy and consolation with which he rewards our endeavours to profit by
the assistance thus graciously afforded to us.

That we very much want these helps and encouragements, we _all_ know:
that we are very much indebted to them, we _Christians_ believe: and that
they are not the less real, because, perhaps, not distinguishable from
the workings of our own minds, now that revelation assures us of the
fact, we have no scruple to affirm.

To this divine Spirit, then, _the spirit of the Father_[48], and _the
spirit of the Son_[49], as he is equally styled, because proceeding
from both; to this spirit, I say, _enlightening_ our understandings,
_purifying_ our wills, and _confirming_ our faith, we must impute all
that is good in us, all that proficiency in _true holiness_ which
qualifies us for the enjoyment of heaven: and through this discipline it
is, that they _who sow to the spirit_, are, in the end, enabled _of the
spirit to reap everlasting life_.

These _three_ characters might be further opened and distinctly
considered; and then it would appear, that all the revelations of
God’s will, chiefly with regard to the redemption of man, made to the
patriarchs of old, to the prophets under the law, to the Apostles of our
Lord, nay to our Lord himself, as _the man Christ Jesus_, and all the
secret illuminations of the faithful in all times, are to be regarded as
so many emanations from the spirit of God, THE ENLIGHTENER: that at the
gradual improvements of our virtue, all the graces which first descend
upon our hearts, and then manifest themselves in every good word and
work, are the production of the same spirit, in his office of SANCTIFIER:
and, lastly, that all the firmness and resolution we possess under
every trial in this world, all the foretaste we have of future favour
and acceptance, all our joy and peace in believing, are the signs and
proofs of the COMFORTER, speaking to us, and, according to our Saviour’s
promise, _abiding in us_.

It is very conceivable that all this diversity of operations may be
justly and reasonably ascribed to the influence of the holy Spirit,
without supposing that our own freedom is impeded or infringed. For
influence is not compulsion; and we are every day induced by others to
do that which we should not have done of ourselves, without feeling
or suspecting that the least violence is offered to our free-will.
_A convincing truth_ clearly presented to us; _a virtuous thought_
incidentally suggested; _a gleam of hope or gladness_, suddenly let in
upon us; all this is no more than we frequently experience in the company
of wise and good men, who yet would be much surprised, and would have
reason to think themselves much injured, if we complained of any undue
influence exerted by them. Yet thus it is, and thus only, that the holy
spirit _constraineth us_: and the scriptures are so far from representing
this constraint under the idea of force, or physical necessity, that they
speak of it as the perfection of moral freedom: _Where the spirit of the
Lord is_, says the Apostle, _there is liberty_[50].

Having, therefore, seen in _what sense_ it is affirmed that the spirit
_giveth_ life; and in _what way_, consistently with the free use of our
faculties, he dispenses this gift, and exercises a variety of offices
towards us; it remains,

III. In the last place, to see what _returns of duty_, as corresponding
to the several characters of the holy Spirit, and resulting from the
relations in which we stand to him, are required on our part; in other
words, what we are to do, before we can hope to be _transformed by the
renewing of our minds_, under the influence of the holy Spirit.

One previous indispensable condition of our obtaining that influence
seems to be, that we ASK _it_, that is, put up our petitions to God for
it: a consideration, which, while it shews the utility, the necessity of
prayer, sufficiently accounts, I doubt, to many of us, for the little
or no effect which, as we pretend and sometimes lament, this renovating
power of the spirit has upon us.

This duty of prayer being supposed; with regard to the holy spirit
himself, _in general_, all the reverence, honour, worship, which his
divine nature exacts from us, and all the love and gratitude which his
gracious concurrence with the Father and the Son, in the great work of
our redemption, so eminently deserves, are to be religiously paid to him.

More _particularly_, we are to consider, that to the several characters
or offices, sustained by this divine person, and exercised towards us,
several duties respectively correspond; which indeed are obvious enough,
but must just be pointed out.

1. If a ray of light break in upon us, if a new degree of knowledge be
imparted to us, if we see the truth of the gospel more clearly in any
respect than before we had done, we cannot mistake in ascribing this
additional information or conviction (which comes very frequently we
know not how, and when the general bent of our thoughts, perhaps, lies
another way) to the illuminating spirit within us; and we are to see to
what further purpose that illumination may serve, and how far it may go
towards dissipating the darkness of our minds in other instances.

2. If we feel (as at times we all of us do) a vicious inclination
checked, a virtuous purpose encouraged, a moral or a pious sentiment
suggested, these secret motions are, nay, must be, from the holy Spirit;
and our duty is to entertain and to improve them.

3. Or, again, if we perceive our devotions to be quickened, our hopes
enlivened, our faith fortified, though the present state of our temper
or constitution may be instrumental in producing these effects, yet, if
they go no father than scripture warrants, and right reason allows, we
shall not mistake (having the express promise of our Lord and Master) in
ascribing these consolations of peace and joy to the _Comforter_; we may
regard them as _the earnest and pledge of the spirit in our hearts_[51]:
and then, our part is so to cherish and use them, as to _go on from
strength to strength_[52], till we arrive at perfection.

You see there is enough for us to do, though _the spirit strive with our
spirit_[53], and in such sort that we derive the power _to will and to
do_[54] what we ought, ultimately from him.

I know that this, and other things, which on the authority of scripture,
I have delivered on the present subject, will appear strange to natural
reason. But so that scripture has prepared us to expect they would do.
_For the natural man_, says the Apostle, _receiveth not the things of
the spirit of God: for they are foolishness unto him_[55]. And to the
same purpose our divine Master himself, speaking _of the spirit of truth;
whom_, says he, _the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not,
neither knoweth him: but ye_, addressing himself to his disciples [that
is, to men, who walk by _faith_, and not by sight] _ye know him, for he
dwelleth with you, and shall be in you_.

On this assurance, then, we may reasonably believe what, by reason,
we cannot understand. And the substance of what we are to believe on
this whole subject, is contained in a single text of St. Peter, where
the _three_ divine persons, yet ineffably _one_ God, “_the Trinity in
unity_[56],” whom we adore, and their respective offices, are accurately
distinguished. For in the opening of his first epistle, he pronounces the
Christians, to whom he writes, ELECT, that is, entitled to salvation,
_according to the foreknowledge_, or pre-determination[57], _of God the
father; through the sanctification of the Spirit unto obedience; and
sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ_.

In these memorable words, we have a brief, yet clear epitome of our whole
faith. And thus at length you see that, though eternal life be _the gift
of_ GOD _in his_ SON, it is only ensured, and finally conveyed to us, by
the ministry of _his_ HOLY SPIRIT: to which blessed TRINITY, therefore,
be all honour, and praise, and adoration, now and for ever! AMEN.



SERMON XXXII.

PREACHED JUNE 19, 1774.

2 COR. vii. 1.

_Having therefore these promises (dearly beloved) let us cleanse
ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in
the fear of God._


Our discourses from this place turning very much, as they ought to do,
on the great Christian doctrine of salvation, that is, of _eternal
life_, considered as the gift of God to mortal and sinful man, through
the redemption of his Son, and the sanctification of his holy Spirit, it
would be a strange neglect in us, if we did not take care to remind our
hearers of the effect which that doctrine ought to have upon them.

This duty I mean now to discharge towards you: and I cannot do it
more properly than by enforcing that advice which St. Paul gave the
Corinthians, as the result of a long and eloquent discourse to them on
the same subject. _Having_ THEREFORE (says he) these promises [i. e. the
promise of _eternal life_, and of _acceptance through Christ_, so as to
become _the people of God_, nay _the sons of God_, with other assurances
of the like sort[58], interspersed in the two preceding chapters, _Having
these promises_] _let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh
and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God_.

The inference, you see, is direct to our purpose: and common ingenuity,
if nothing else, might well engage us, in return for such great and
precious promises, to draw the same conclusion for ourselves. But, when
we further consider that these promises are conditional, and made only
to those who obey the giver of them[59], interest, as well as gratitude,
will oblige us to yield that obedience so expressly required of us.

This obedience is briefly summed up in the direction; _to cleanse
ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit_, that is, to take
care, agreeably to the double obligation imposed upon us by the distinct
parts of our constitution, that we consult the integrity both of our
bodies and minds; and preserve them both from that defilement which each
of them, according to its nature, is liable to contract in this state of
moral probation.

I. With regard to the FLESH, the gross vices which defile that part of
our frame, are so expressly condemned by the law of reason, as well
as of the gospel, and are so repugnant to the inbred modesty of every
man, especially, a such as have had their natural sense of decency
quickened by a good education, that but to mention them in this place,
I would hope, is quite sufficient. If I go farther, it shall only be to
remind you of one thing, which I have explained at large on a former
occasion[60], That Christianity hath added unspeakably to the worth and
dignity of the human body, by considering it no longer as the store-house
of impure lusts, but as the habitation, the _temple_ of the living God,
to whose sole use it is now dedicated[61].

The turpitude, the dishonour, the impiety of desecrating this sanctuary
of the holy Spirit by sordid, carnal excesses, is then apparent to every
Christian.

But the vices of the SPIRIT do not always strike the attention so
forcibly; though they be as real as those of the body, and sometimes
more fatal. The reason is, that the spiritual part of man does not lie
so open to observation as the corporeal. The mind is not easily made an
object to itself; and, when it is, we have a strange power of seeing it
in a false light, and of overlooking its blemishes, or of even mistaking
them for beauties. In short, _the filthiness of the spirit_ may be long
unobserved, and therefore _uncleansed_, if it be not pointed out to us by
some friendly monitor, who is more practised in this mental inspection
than ourselves, or has less interest, however, to conceal our depravity
from us.

Permit me, then, to assume the charitable office of holding up to your
view these _spiritual vices_; not all of every sort (for that would be
endless) but the chief of those which tend more immediately to defeat the
gracious _promises_ made to us in the gospel.

II. I say nothing of that corruption which direct and positive infidelity
strikes through the soul, whether it be the infidelity of Atheism,
or what is called Deism; because, on men who espouse either of these
systems, the promises of the gospel take no hold; and because it ought
not, cannot be supposed, that men of no religion, or of no faith, appear
in these Christian assemblies. You will think me better employed in
pointing out such corruptions, as may not improbably adhere even to
believers; though concealed from their own observation, it may be, or
disguised, at least, to themselves, under various pretences.

1. The first of these that I shall mention is a sort of HALF-BELIEF,
which floats in the mind, and, though it do not altogether renounce
the hopes of the Gospel, is far from reposing a firm trust in them.
Many professed believers have, I doubt, this infirmity, this taint of
infidelity, still cleaving to them. They think Christianity an useful
institution; nay, they think it not destitute of all divine authority.
But then they reduce this authority to just nothing, by allowing
themselves to put it as low as they can—by taking great liberties in
explaining both its doctrines and precepts—by admitting such parts
of this revelation, as they believe themselves able to make out to
the satisfaction of their own minds, and by rejecting, at least by
questioning in some sort, whatever they cannot perfectly understand—by
treating some things as incredible, others, as impracticable; one part
of their religion as too mysterious, and another as too severe. “They
believe, they say, what they can: but, after all, there are many strange
things in this religion; and the evidence for the truth of them is not
so controuling, but that there is room for some degree of doubt and
hesitation.”

All this, perhaps, they do not say to others; nay, not to themselves,
except when they are pressed by some conclusion from scripture, which
either their prejudices, or their passions, make them very unwilling
to admit; and then they take leave to be as sceptical as the occasion
requires.

But now from such a faith as this, no wholesome or permanent fruits can
be expected. It has no root in them; and the _promises_, that should feed
and nourish it, have but a faint and feeble effect; just enough, perhaps,
to keep their hopes from dying outright, but much too little to push
them into any vigorous efforts of obedience.

The way for such to _cleanse themselves_ from this pollution of spirit
(for to the several defects, the proper remedy in each case shall, as
we go along, be subjoined) is, once for all, to examine the foundations
of their religion; and, if they find them, on the whole, solid and
satisfactory, to rely upon them thenceforth with a confidence entire and
unshaken. They should reflect, that every revealed doctrine, of whatever
sort, as standing on the same ground of infallible truth, is equally to
be admitted. There is no compromising matters with their divine Master:
they must either quit his service, or follow him without reserve. And
this, upon the whole, they will find to be the manly and the reasonable
part for them to take. To halt between two opinions so repugnant to
each other, to embrace so interesting a thing as religion by halves, is
neither for the credit of their courage, nor of their understanding.

Having then the _promise_ of eternal life, let them reckon upon that
promise, like men who know its value, and do not mistrust on what ground
it stands. If they are Christians at all, they cannot justify it even
to themselves not to be Christians in good earnest. And thus will they
happily escape the disgrace of an _irresolved and indolent faith_; which
involves them in much of the guilt, and in almost all the mischiefs, of
infidelity. But,

2. There are those who have not a doubt about the truth of Christianity,
and yet, through a certain LEVITY OF MIND, derive but little benefit from
their conviction.

This spiritual vice is, perhaps, the commonest of all others; and, though
it seems to have something prodigious in it, is easily accounted for from
the intoxication of health, youth, and high spirits; from the restless
pursuit of pleasure, which occupies one part of the world, and of
business, which distracts another; from a too passionate love of society
in many; from feverish habits of dissipation in more; and from a fatal
impatience of solitude and recollection in almost all.

But, by whichsoever of these causes the vice of inconsideration, we
have now before us, is produced and nourished, it is of the most
malignant sort, and being ready to branch out into many others, should
be resolutely checked and suppressed. Though there be nothing directly
criminal in the pursuit which takes us from ourselves, it is always
dangerous to lose sight of what we are, and whither we are going, and may
be fatal. For, not to believe, and not to call to mind what we believe,
is nearly the same thing. And when a temptation meets us thus unprepared,
it wants no assistance from infidelity, but is secure of prevailing by
its own strength, under cover of our inattention.

Such, I doubt not, is the sad experience of thousands, every day; while
yet the misjudging world, that part of it, especially, whose interest it
is to suppose that all men are equally destitute of religious principles,
rashly conclude that there is no faith, where there is so much folly.
“These hypocrites, say they, are convicted of the same unbelief,
which they perpetually object to us:” Alas, no: they are convicted of
inconsequence, only.

Not that this consideration excuses their guilt: it even aggravates and
inflames it. For, when _one thing_, only, _is needful_, and they know
it to be so, not to retain a practical, an habitual sense of it, but to
suffer every trifle to mislead, every sudden gust of passion to drive
them from _the hope_ and end _of their calling_, argues an extreme
depravity of mind, and deserves a harsher name than we commonly give to
this conduct.

However, soften it to ourselves, as we will, under any fashionable
denomination, the _spirit_ must be cured of this vice, or the _promises_
of the Gospel are lost upon us. And the proper remedy is but one. We must
resolve, at all events, to acquire the contrary habit of consideration.
We must meditate much and often on what we believe: we must force our
minds to dwell upon it: we must converse more with ourselves, how bad
company soever we take that to be, and less with the world, which so
easily dissipates our thoughts, and oversets our best resolutions.

If we would but every day set apart a small portion of our time, were it
but a few minutes, to supplicate the grace of God, and to say seriously
to ourselves; _I believe the promises, and I acknowledge the authority
of the gospel_; (and less than this, who can think excusable in any man,
whatever his condition of life may be, that calls himself a Christian?)
this short and easy discipline, regularly pursued, and, on no pretence
whatever, intermitted, would presently effect the cure we so much want,
and restore the sickly mind to its health and vigour.

3. Still, there may be a general belief in the promises of the Gospel,
and a good degree of attention to them, and yet men may be but little
impressed by what they thus believe and consider. This affection of the
mind is sometimes experienced, but has hardly acquired a distinct name.
Let us call it, if you please, a DEADNESS, or INSENSIBILITY OF HEART;
which, so far as it proceeds from natural constitution, is a misfortune
only; but, when cherished or even neglected by us, it becomes a fault.

The danger of it lies here, lest by seeing with indifference the most
important objects of our hopes and fears, we come by degrees to neglect
or overlook them; to question, perhaps, the reality of them; or, to
lose, however, the benefit which even a calm view of these objects, when
frequently set before the mind, must needs convey to us.

The rule in this case plainly is, To prescribe to ourselves such a
regimen as is proper to correct this spiritual lethargy: that is, to
stimulate the sluggish mind by the most poignant reflexions; to bring
the objects of our faith as near and close to us as we can; to paint them
in the liveliest colours of the imagination, which, when touched itself,
easily sets fire to the affections; and, above all, to keep our eye
intently and steadily upon them.

We may see the utility of this regimen, in a case which is familiar to
every body.

When we look forward to the end of life, it appears at a vast distance.
The many, or the few years, that lie before us, take up a great deal of
room in the mind, and present the idea of a long, and almost interminable
duration. Hence the fatal security in which we most of us live, as
conceiving that, when so much time is on our hands, we need not be
sollicitous to make the most of it.

But that all this is a mere delusion, we may see by looking back on the
time that is already elapsed. We have lived in this world, twenty, forty,
it may be, many more years: yet, in reflecting on this space, we find it
just nothing: the several parts of it run together in the mind, and the
first moment of our existence seems almost to touch upon the present.
Now, by anticipating this experience, and applying it to the remaining
period of our lives, we may satisfy ourselves, that the years to come
will pass away as rapidly, and, when gone, will appear as inconsiderable
as the past; and the effect of this anticipation must be, to convince us,
that no part of this brief term is to be trifled with, or unimproved.

Then, again, we have the power of imaging to ourselves, in a very lively
manner, the circumstances in which death surprises very many thoughtless
persons every day; and what we should feel in their situation.

Lay then these two things together; make _the shortness of life_, and
_the terrors of an unprepared death_, the frequent object of your
meditation; and see if the most callous mind will not presently be much
affected by them.

4. The fourth and last vice of the spirit, which I have time to mention
to you, is rather, perhaps, to be accounted a complication of vices.
But what I mean is that unhappy turn of mind which prompts many persons
to elude the effects of faith, reflexion, and even a lively sense, in
matters of religion, by certain tricks of SOPHISTRY, which they practise
on themselves. They believe, and they would gladly obtain, the promises
of the gospel, but repentance, they suppose, will supply the place of
uniform obedience: they will repent, but not yet; there is time enough,
and fitter for that purpose, when passion cools, and the heat of life is
over: or, they fancy to themselves an inexhaustible fund of goodness in
their religion; the terms of it may not be rigidly insisted upon; the
promises may not be so conditional as they seem to be; and the threats,
without doubt, will not be punctually executed. At the worst, there is
no need to despair of mercy, considering the frailty of man, and the
infinite merits of the Redeemer.

Such reasonings as these argue a depraved mind, and tend, further, to
deprave it. But your good sense prevents me in the confutation of them.
I would only observe, that this vice is, as I said, a complicated one:
for, together with the unfairness and disingenuity (which belongs to all
sophistry, as such) we have here united (what is too common in religious
sophistry) a great deal of unwarrantable presumption.

The remedy in the case is, To cultivate in ourselves a modest and
ingenuous love of truth; an awful reverence of the revealed word, and
that simplicity of heart which excludes all artifice and refinement.

From these so pernicious vices of the spirit, then, that is, from a
_fluctuating faith_, an _inconsiderate levity_, an _inapprehensive
deadness of heart_, and a _perverse sophistical abuse of the
understanding_, let us emancipate ourselves by a firm, attentive,
vigorous, and ingenuous dependance on the promises of the gospel; from
these defilements, I say, in particular (having shaken off the other
more sordid corruptions of the _flesh and spirit_) let us anxiously
_cleanse_ our minds, with the view of _perfecting holiness_, as the text
admonishes, IN THE FEAR OF GOD.

This last clause is by no means an insignificant one; as ye will see
by recollecting, that the true temper of a Christian is, hope mixed
with fear; _hope_, to animate his courage, and _fear_, to quicken his
attention. For, unless this principle of fear, not a servile, but filial
fear, inform the soul and invigorate its functions, we shall be far from
PERFECTING HOLINESS; we shall at best exhibit in our lives but some
broken, detached, incoherent parcels of it. A steady, uniform piety, such
as begets that _hope, which maketh not ashamed_[62], is only kept up by
a constant watchfulness and circumspection; which our probationary state
plainly demands, and which nothing but _the fear of God_ effectually
secures.



SERMON XXXIII.

PREACHED APRIL 8, 1776.

1 TIM. iii. 16.

_Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness: God was manifest
in the flesh; justified in the spirit; seen of Angels; preached to the
Gentiles; believed on in the world; received up into glory._


The inspired writers, sometimes, dilate on the articles of the Christian
religion; pursue them separately, and at length, for the fuller and more
distinct information of the faithful. Sometimes, again, they give them to
us, as it were, in clusters: they accumulate their awful doctrines and
discoveries, to strike and astonish the mind with their united force.

This _last_ is the method of the text, which I shall a little open and
explain; but so as to conform myself to the Apostle’s purpose in giving a
brief collective view of Christianity, that, the whole of it being seen
together, we may be the more sensibly affected by it.

1. This _great mystery of godliness_ opens with—GOD MANIFEST IN THE FLESH.

When the scheme of man’s redemption was laid, it was not thought fit
that an Apostle, a prophet, a man like ourselves, no nor an Angel or
Archangel, should be the instrument of it; but that the _word of God_,
the _Son of God_, nay _God_ himself (as he is here and elsewhere[63]
called) should take this momentous office upon him: that heaven should
stoop to earth, and that the divine nature should condescend to leave the
mansions of glory, inshrine itself in a fleshly tabernacle, should be
_made man_, should _dwell among us_, and _die for us_.

If you ask, why may not a man, or angel, have sufficed to execute this
purpose of man’s salvation; or, if only this divine person was equal
to it, why he did not rather assume a glorified, than our mortal body;
why it was necessary for him to inherit all our infirmities (sin only
excepted,) and yet be conceived, in so extraordinary a manner of the holy
Spirit; nay, and why he should be so conceived, and born of a _virgin_
(a miracle of that peculiar sort as scarce seems capable of proof, and,
in fact, is only proved indirectly by the subsequent life and character
and history of this divine person): If you ask these, and a hundred
other such questions, I answer readily and frankly, _I know not_: But
then consider, that _my_ ignorance, that is, any man’s ignorance, of
the reasons why these things were done, is no argument, not so much as
a presumption against there being reasons, nay, and the best reasons,
for so mysterious a dispensation. Consider, too, that these mysteries no
way contradict any clear principle of your own reason: all that appears
is, that you should not have expected, previously to the revelation of
it, such a design to be formed; and that, now it is revealed, you do not
understand why it was so conducted. But we are just in the same state
of ignorance, with regard to almost every part of the divine conduct.
This world, so unquestionably the work of infinite wisdom and goodness,
is not, in numberless respects, what we should expect it to have
been; of many parts we see not the use and end; in some, there is the
appearance of deformity; in others, of mischief; in all, when attentively
considered, of something above, or beside, our apprehension.

Such then being the case of the natural world, why may not the moral
have its depths and difficulties? You see God in the creation: why
not in redemption? In the former, he condescends, according to our
best philosophy, to manifest himself in the meanest reptile, all whose
instincts he immediately prompts, and whose movements he directs and
governs: why then might he not manifest himself in man, though in another
manner, and by an union with him still more close and intimate?

But I pursue these questions no farther. It is enough that, admitting
the fact, on the faith of the revelation itself, we see a wonderful
goodness and condescension in this whole procedure: that we understand
the importance of having such a saviour and guide and example of
life, as _God manifest in the flesh_; that we are led to conceive,
with astonishment, of the dignity of man, for whose sake the Godhead
assumed our nature, and, at the same time, with consternation, of the
guilt of man, for the atonement of which this assumption, with all its
consequences, became necessary.

_God manifest in the flesh_, is then the _first_ chapter of this
mysterious book: and yet, as mysterious as it is, full of the clearest
and most momentous instruction.

2. The _second_ is, that this wonderfully compounded person was JUSTIFIED
IN THE SPIRIT: that is, _by_, or _through_ the Spirit: another mystery,
which, however, acquaints us with this fact, that a third divine person
ministered in the great work of our redemption.

And his ministry was seen in directing the ancient prophets to
foretell the Redeemer’s coming[64]; in accomplishing his miraculous
conception[65]; in assisting at his baptism[66]; in conducting him
through his temptation[67]; in giving him the power to cast out devils,
which is expressly said to be _by the Spirit of God_[68]; in raising
him from the dead, by which event he was _declared the Son of God with
power, according to the spirit of holiness_[69]; in descending on his
disciples on the day of Pentecost[70]; in bestowing diversities of
miraculous gifts[71] upon them, for the confirmation of his doctrine, and
the propagation of it through the world; and lastly in sanctifying and
illuminating the faithful of all times and places[72].

In all these ways (and if there be any other) Jesus was _justified_,
that is, his commission was authenticated by the testimony of the Holy
Spirit. Here, again, many curious questions may be asked: but what we
clearly learn is, the awful relation we bear to the Holy Ghost, as
co-operating in the scheme of man’s redemption; and the infinite dignity
of that scheme itself, the execution of which required the agency of that
transcendantly divine person.

Hitherto the mystery of godliness has been doubly mysterious, being
wrapped up in the incomprehensible essence of the Deity. It now stoops,
as it were, through this cloud of glory, and gives itself to be somewhat
distinctly apprehended by us.

3. In the _next_ view we have of the Redeemer, as being SEEN OF ANGELS.

We have some grounds from analogy to conclude, that, as there is a scale
of beings below us, there is also one above us: at least, the conclusion
has been pretty generally drawn: and the belief almost universal of such
a scale ascending from us to God, though the uppermost round of it still
be at an infinite distance from his throne. But the direct, indeed the
only solid proof of its existence, is the revealed word, which speaks
of _Angels_ and _Archangels_, nay _myriads_[73] of them, disposed into
different ranks, and rising above each other in a wonderful harmony and
proportion.

Such is the idea which scripture gives us of the invisible world. Now,
to raise our minds to some just apprehension of the great scheme of our
redemption, it represents that world, as being put in motion by that
scheme, as attentive and _earnest to look into it_[74]: and, to exalt our
conceptions of the Redeemer himself, it speaks of that world as being
in subjection to him; of all its inhabitants, the highest in place and
dignity, as serving in his retinue, and paying homage to his person[75].

They accordingly ministered to him in this capacity, when they celebrated
his birth in the fields of Bethlehem[76]; when they took part with him
in his triumphs over the adversary in the desart[77]: when they flew to
strengthen him in his last agonies[78]; when they attended, in their
robes of state to grace his resurrection[79]: and when they ranked
themselves, with all observance, about him, as he went up into heaven[80].

_Of the angels_, then, _he was seen_, on all these, and doubtless other,
occasions. But how was he seen? With love and wonder unspeakable, when
they saw their Lord and Master thus humbling himself for the sake of man;
when they contemplated this bright effulgence of the Deity, _the express
image of his person_[81], veiling all his glories in flesh, and,

    —_low-rooft beneath the skies_,

as our great poet sublimely represents his humiliation[82].

Still the _mystery_ continues, though it now submits itself to the
scrutiny of our senses; for it follows,

4. That he was PREACHED TO THE GENTILES.

To enter into the full meaning of this clause, we are to reflect, That,
when the nations of the earth had so prodigiously corrupted themselves
as to lose the memory of the true religion, and to give themselves over
to the most abominable impieties, it pleased God to select one faithful
family from the rest of the degenerate world, and in due time to advance
it into a numerous people; which he vouchsafed to take into a near
relation to himself, and, by a singular policy, to preserve distinct and
separate from the surrounding tribes of Idolaters. Henceforth, the Jews
(for of that people I speak) considered themselves as the sole favourites
of Heaven (as they were, indeed, the sole worshippers of the true God),
and all the heathen as the outcasts of its providence.

This notion, in process of time, became so rooted in them, that when
Jesus now appeared in Judea, they were ready to engross all his favours
to themselves, and thought it strange and incredible, that any part of
them should be conferred on the reprobate heathen. So that he himself
was obliged to proceed with much caution in opening the extent of his
commission, and St. Paul everywhere speaks of the design to save the
Gentiles as the profoundest mystery, as _that which had been kept secret
since the world began_[83].

In the mean time, the mercy of God had much larger views, and sent the
Messiah to be _the saviour of_ ALL _men, especially of them_, out of
every nation, _that believe_[84].

But this mercy, so _mysterious_ to the Jews, could not be much less so to
the Gentiles, who must feel how disproportioned the blessing was to any
deserts of man; and who saw how enormous and how general that corruption
was, which in all likelihood must exclude them from it. Thus it might
reasonably be matter of _silent wonder_[85], to both parties, to hear
_Christ preached to the Gentiles_: only, this _latter_ (of which party
we ourselves are) might say with a peculiar exultation, what the Jews,
even in _glorifying_ the Author of it, were not, without some reluctance,
brought to acknowledge; _Then hath God, also, to the Gentiles granted
repentance unto life._

And if the surprize be deservedly great to hear Christ _preached to the
Gentiles_, it must in all reason grow upon us to find,

5. In the succeeding link of this _mysterious_ chain, that he was
even BELIEVED ON IN THE WORLD; that is, in the world both of Jews and
Gentiles; in the former, to a certain extent; and, in the latter, to one
which, though not universal, is truly astonishing.

Of the Jews it is affirmed, that _multitudes_[86] of them believed: and
what especially redounds to their honour and to our benefit, is, that out
of the Jewish believers were taken those favoured servants of God, that
opened the door of faith to the Gentiles, and became his instruments in
conveying the light of the Gospel to all generations. And, considering
the inveterate prejudices of that people, such a measure of faith, and
such effects of it, could not well have been expected from that quarter.

But then, for the Gentiles, it is astonishing to observe how quick and
how general their conversion to the faith was: so that all men seemed
to _press_[87] into the kingdom of God, and, as it were, to _take it by
violence_[88]. For, within forty years from the death of Christ, the
sound of the Gospel _had gone out into all lands_[89]; and, in less
than three centuries from that event, the empire itself, that is, all
the civilized part of the earth, became Christian: and this, in spite
of every obstruction, which the lusts of men, operating with all their
force, and confederated together, could throw in the way of the new
religion.

_So mightily grew the word of God, and prevailed[90]!_ and it still
prevails: not every where indeed, nor any where to that degree in which,
we trust, it one day will; but to a certain degree over a great part
of the globe, and especially in the more enlightened parts of it: an
evident proof, that reason is congenial with faith; and that nothing but
ignorance, corrupted by vice, can hold out against the cross of Jesus.

Yet this power of the cross must be thought prodigious; since its
pretensions are so high, and its doctrine so pure, that, in a world
overgrown with presumption and vice, it could never have made its way to
so much consideration, if the hand of God had not been with it.

Such is the mystery of Christ _believed on in the world_!

But now the Apostle, who had digressed a little from his main subject,
or rather had anticipated some part of it, returns, from the effects
which Christianity was to have on the world, to the person of its divine
Author; who, as it follows in the

6. _Sixth_, and last clause of this panegyrick, WAS RECEIVED UP INTO
GLORY.

And this circumstance was proper to shut up so stupendous a scene. It
opened with a view of _God manifest in the flesh_, degraded, eclipsed,
obscured by this material vestment; yet emerging out of its dark shade
through the countenance of the _spirit_, and by the ministry of _angels_;
then shining out in the face of the _Gentiles_, and gradually ascending
to his meridian height in the conversion of the whole _world_. Yet
was this prize of glory to be won by a long and painful conflict with
dangers, sufferings, and death; in regard to which last enemy (the most
alarming of all) the Apostle affirms, that _it was not possible for so
divine a person to be holden of it_[91]. It follows, therefore, naturally
and properly (to vindicate the Redeemer’s honour, and to replace him in
that celestial state, from which he had descended), that, in his own
person, he triumphed over hell and the grave, and went up visibly into
heaven; there to sit down at the right hand of the Father, till, his
great mediatorial scheme being accomplished, he himself shall voluntarily
quit the distinction of his name and place, and GOD SHALL BE ALL IN
ALL[92].

On this brief comment on the text, thus far unfolded to you, I have but
one reflexion to make. Ye will not derive from it a clearer insight into
the reasons of all the wonders presented to you: for I undertook only to
lay before you those wonders themselves; not to account to you for them:
but, if ye feel yourselves touched with a view of these things; if ye
find your hearts impressed with an awful sense of your divine religion,
and _nourished_[93] in the faith of it, then will ye be in a way to reap
that fruit from this discourse, which is better than all wisdom and
all knowledge; the fruit of HOLINESS, in this short but unspeakably
momentous stage of your existence; and of HAPPINESS without measure, and
without end, in the kingdom of glory.



SERMON XXXIV.

PREACHED MAY 19, 1776.

ISAIAH l. 11.

_Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with
sparks; Walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks which ye have
kindled: This shall ye have of my hand, ye shall lie down in sorrow._


The expression, we see, is figurative. By the _fire kindled_, and the
_sparks, with which men compass themselves about_, may, indeed, be
understood any of those worldly comforts, such as honours, riches,
and pleasures, which the generality of men are studious to procure to
themselves; and in the _light_ of which they love to walk, as being
that, which, in their opinion, contributes most to warm, to chear, and
illustrate human life.

The effect, however, of these comforts, is, that they who possess the
largest share of them, and seek for no other, _lie down in sorrow_:
that is, their lives are without joy, and their end is without hope.
This is the recompense, which they receive from _the hand of God_; as
might easily be shewn, if my purpose, at this time, were to enlarge of
that common-place in morals, _the unsatisfactory nature of all earthly
enjoyments_.

But my design is to engage your thoughts on a different argument, to
which the letter of the text more directly leads us. For _light_, in all
languages, is the emblem of knowledge; which is to the mind, what that
is to the eye: And, the speaker in the text being God himself, we are
naturally led to interpret that light, of _religious knowledge_; that
genial fire, which, more than the Sun itself, is necessary to warm our
spirits, and guide our steps through the cold and dark passage of this
life.

The question is, Whether we are to kindle this _fire_, for ourselves; or,
whether we should not derive it, if we have it in our power so to do,
immediately from heaven: Whether we shall do best to walk in the light of
those few _sparks_, which our Reason is able to strike out for us, on the
subject of religion; or, whether it will not be our interest, and should
not be our choice, to take the benefit of that pure and steady flame,
which Revelation holds out to us.

The text, in a severe, indignant irony, refers us to the former of
these expedients, the better to excite our attention to the latter.
_Walk_, says the Almighty, addressing himself to the idolaters of human
reason, _Walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks which ye have
kindled_. But to what end is this advice given? To one, they little
dreamt of, and would surely avoid—_This ye shall have of my hand_, in
recompense of all your speculations, _Ye shall lie down in sorrow_.

It seems, then, to be the purpose of the text, to inculcate this great
truth, _That Revelation is the only sure and comfortable guide in matters
of religion_. And, to second this purpose, so energetically expressed
by the prophet, I would now shew you, that all the _sparks_ of human
knowledge, on this important subject, are but smoke; and all the _fire_,
which human genius or industry can kindle at the altar of human reason,
ice itself; when compared with the light and heat of divine Revelation.

I SUPPOSE, that we are all convinced of what the voice of nature so
loudly proclaims, that there is a God, a moral governor of the world; and
that we are intimately related to him, and dependant upon him. The sum of
our religious inquiries will then be

I. _What we are to do, in order to obtain the favour of that God: And_

II. _What that favour is, which, when we have done our best, we have
reason to expect from him._

Now, it will be easy to shew, that the issue of our best reason, in
the former of these enquiries, is suspense and doubt; and despair, or
disappointment, in the latter. It will appear, that we cannot assure
ourselves of the means, by which the favour of Heaven is to be obtained;
and that the highest degree of favour, we have a right to claim, is not
that to which we aspire. So fated are we, when trusting to the faint,
delusive light of our own minds, on this great, this only important
subject, _to lie down in sorrow_.

I. To begin with the consideration of _what we are to do, in order to
obtain the favour of God_.

That we are to _worship_ God, will be allowed by all reasonable theists.

But in what way is he to be worshipped? By GIFTS AND OFFERINGS? So a
great part of the world has believed. But, by _what_ gifts and offerings,
_how_, and _when_, and _where_, and _by whom_ presented? Are _all_
indifferent to him, and is no preference due to some above others? or,
may not my offering lose its value, unless made in a certain _manner_?
Is it of no moment with what _rites_ I tender my gifts to God? Are all
_seasons_ equally fit; are all _places_ equally pure; are all _persons_
equally hallowed, for the oblation of them?

Or, again, are gifts and offerings, to the lord of all things,
impertinent and vain? And is my reverence of him to be expressed by acts
of SELF-DENIAL, PENANCE, AND MORTIFICATION? So the pious of all times
have very generally conceived. But by _what_ penance, to what _end_
referred, to what _degree_ carried, and how _long_ continued?

We may think of these questions, and of ourselves, what we will. But
such questions, as these, have been asked by wise men, and, when those
wise men had only to take council of their own reason, have rarely been
answered to their satisfaction.

Or, let us advance a step further, and say that our dependance on God
is to be signified, and his favour obtained, by PRAYER: that gifts
are mercenary, and penance servile; both, a manifest affront to the
all-sufficient and all-merciful Deity; and that the supplications of a
devout mind are the only incense fit for heaven. Be it so: Good and wise
men have at all times thought highly of prayer; and are generally agreed
in recommending it as the most becoming expression of human piety. But
here again, doubts and difficulties meet us. _How_ are we to pray, and
for _what_?

Are all _forms_ of address equally acceptable to him, we adore? The
Gentile world thought not: they were solicitous to petition their Gods in
a certain style, and to gain their ear by some favourite appellation. Let
this, again, pass for a scruple of superstition. Still, is it indifferent
with what sentiments we approach the throne of God, and with what ideas
of his nature and attributes we prostrate ourselves before him? If those
sentiments or ideas be not suited, in some degree, to the majesty of that
great being, is there no danger that we may dishonour, may injure, may
insult him by our addresses? May not our very prayers become affronts,
and our praises, blasphemies?

And is it so easy to think justly on this mysterious subject, as that
reason, every man’s own reason, can instruct him? What if two or three
divine men of the pagan world guessed right? Was their opinion any rule,
was it even any authority, to the bulk of worshippers[94]?

But say, that it was their own fault to misconceive of the Deity: still,
for _what_ shall they pray to him? For every thing, they want or wish?
But thus, they would most commonly pray amiss, for what they should pray
against, for what would corrupt and hurt them.

These difficulties, with regard both to the mode and matter of this duty,
appeared so great to the old masters of wisdom, that some[95] of them
thought it the highest effort of human wit, to form a reasonable prayer;
and others supposed that none but God himself could instruct man how to
do it[96].

There is a way, indeed, to cut these difficulties short; which is, by
maintaining, as some[97] have done, that prayer is no duty at all;
but a vain superfluous observance, justly ranked with the fancies of
superstition: that God is not honoured by any external, no, nor by any
mental, applications to him: that a good conscience[98] is true piety,
and a spotless life, the only religion.

Admit this exalted idea of divine worship; yet, where shall we find,
among the sons of Adam, one such worshipper? Who shall lay claim to that
conscience, or this life? Where is the man, that passes a single day, an
hour almost, without doing that which he ought not to do, or omitting
somewhat he ought to have done? And what multitudes are there, who cover
themselves with infamy, and with crimes?

And what shall the trembling mind do, when it looks up, as at times it
cannot help doing, to that God, who _is of purer eyes, than to behold
iniquity_?

_Repent_, it will be said: that species of piety is all-powerful with
Heaven; it can efface sin, and restore tranquillity.

Here, again, the general sense of mankind runs another way. For, if it
be so clear, that repentance alone has this virtue, how came the idea of
atonement and expiation into the world? and whence the almost universal
practice of _propitiatory sacrifices_?

It is easy, no doubt, to brand this disposition of the human mind, as so
many others, with the opprobrious name of superstition. Let us see, then,
what the merits and claims are, of _Repentance itself_.

A man offends against God, and the sense of his own mind. On reflexion
(what can he do less?) he repents; and (if it please God) is forgiven.
But passion revives; he offends again, and repents again; and so goes
on, through his whole life, in a course of alternate transgression, and
repentance. And is this all the claim he has to be received, at length,
into the favour of God, that he never sinned, though he did it every day,
but he was sorry for it?

Yes, you will say, _If my brother trespass against me seven times in a
day, and seven times in a day turn again and repent_, I am bound by the
law of Christ himself to forgive him[99]. And will God be less placable,
than his creature man is required to be[100]?

This rule of conduct is very fit to be observed by one offender towards
another: but is it past a doubt that it will, that it must take place
between God and man? WE are bound to this repeated, this continual
forgiveness of others, by a sense of our common infirmities. HE has
a government to support; of what extent, over what worlds, and how
connected with this, no man may say: And what would become of government
in this world, if every convict was to be pardoned on repentance?

Nor is it enough to reply, that human governors cannot pronounce on the
sincerity of such repentance. If they could, they would certainly not
regulate their proceedings by that consideration. The law has denounced
a penalty on such a crime: And the public interest requires that the
penalty, for example-sake, be inflicted.

Something, like this, may be true of God’s moral government. No man can
say, it is not. And therefore repentance, as plausible as its plea may
appear, can never free the guilty mind from all apprehension.

But another dreadful circumstance attends this matter. We often satisfy
ourselves, that we repent of a past crime: Yet we commit that crime
again; perhaps the very next hour. Can we call that repentance sincere?
Or, have we a right to conclude that God, who sees through all the
prevarication and duplicity of our hearts, must accept such repentance,
on our profession of it? Let what virtue there will be in repentance,
when seen by the unerring eye of God to be true and unfeigned, how shall
man reckon on the efficacy of it, when he may so easily mistake, and
cannot certainly know the real worth and character of what he calls
repentance?

Here then, whether we consider what the moral attributes of the Deity,
and his righteous government, may demand; or whether we regard the
weakness and inefficacy of our best purposes; there is room enough for
the terrors of religion to invade and possess the mind, in spite of all
that Reason can do to repell, or dislodge them from it.

After all, in contemplation of that infinite mercy which surrounds the
throne of God, and of the infirmity incident to frail man, I am willing
to suppose (as it is our common interest to do) that _repentance_, at
all times, and how oft soever renewed, is a ground, on which he may
reasonably build fair hopes and chearful expectations. To repent, is
always the best thing we can do: It is always a conduct right in itself;
and, as such, is intitled, we will say, on the principles of natural
religion, to the divine acceptance.

But what does that ACCEPTANCE import? _The reward of eternal life? A
remission of all punishment? or, only an abatement of it?_ Here, again,
fresh difficulties start up, and come to be considered,

II. Under the second general head of this discourse; in which it was
proposed to inquire, _What that favour is, which, when we have done
our best to recommend ourselves to God, we have reason to expect at his
hands?_

1. If presumptuous man could learn to estimate himself at his true worth,
he might perhaps see reason to conclude, that his highest moral merit
can pretend to no more, than to some _abatement_ of present or future
punishment.

Let him calculate how oft, how knowingly, how willfully he hath offended;
and, on the other hand, when he did his duty, how coldly, how remissly,
how reluctantly he did it: with what a gust of passion he disobeyed; and
with what indifference he repented: with how full a consent of his mind,
with what deliberation, and against what conviction, he sinned; and then,
again, with what hesitation, by what degrees, in what circumstances, and
upon what motives, he recovered himself from any bad habit: In a word,
how full and complete and contagious his vices have been; and how faint
and partial and ineffective, his best virtues: Let him, I say, calculate
all this, and then tell us where is the stock of merit, on the balance
of the account, that should encourage him to do more than hope that some
part of the punishment, he hath justly incurred, may by a merciful judge
be struck off, in consideration of his virtues? If such a man recovered
his health, when he left his intemperance; or his credit in the world,
when he shook hands with his injustice; or, if his penitence could avail
so far as to shorten the term, or qualify the rigour, of his sufferings
in some other state of being, would he not have reason to think he had
all the recompense he deserved? Could most men, at least, on a strict
scrutiny of their hearts and lives, carry their pretensions higher? But,

2. But let us be indulgent to human virtue, and suppose it pure and
active enough to work out all the guilt, which vice had contracted, could
it do more than cancel the punishment due to vice, and should we be
authorized to expect more than a _full remission_ of it? Suppose, that
after a long life, checquered with good and bad actions, but in such
sort as that the good equalled the bad, and perfectly atoned for them
(and which of us will say, that this is not a favourable supposition?);
suppose, I say, that after such a life, as this, the whole man were
suffered to fall into a state of insensibility, that all his powers and
faculties were suspended, or the man himself utterly extinguished, could
we complain of this allotment, or could reason pretend that it was not
according to the rules of strict justice?

3. Still I agree to make a further concession to the pride of Virtue. Let
the moral qualities of some men be so excellent, and the tenour of their
lives so pure, as to entitle them to a _positive reward_ from the great
searcher of hearts and inspector of human actions: would not the daily
blessings of this life be a suitable recompense for such desert; would
not health, and prosperity, and reputation, and peace of mind, be an
adequate return for their best services? Or, if all this did not satisfy
their claims, could they require more than such a portion of happiness in
a future state, as should correspond to their merits, and make them full
amends for all the sacrifices they here made to Conscience and to Virtue?
And might not a small degree of such happiness, and for a short term, be
an equivalent for such sacrifices? Could they dream of living _for ever_,
and of living _happily_ for ever in heaven; and call such a reward, as
this, a debt, a claim of right, which could not justly be withheld from
them? Could any man in his senses pretend, even to himself, that a Virtue
of sixty or seventy years, though ever so perfect, ever so constant,
deserved immortal life in bliss and glory? Incredible: impossible: the
merit and the recompense are too widely disjoined, the disproportion
between them is too vast, to give the least colour of reason to such
expectations. A Saint, or a Martyr, has no claim of right to so immense a
reward, so transcendant a felicity.

’Tis true, Christianity gives us these hopes, which Reason forwardly
assumes, and makes her own; forgetting at the same time, or unthankfully
slighting, the only grounds on which they are founded. For, though
eternal life be promised to favoured man in the Gospel, it is there
promised to him, not as a debt, but as a free gift; and that, not in
consideration of his good works, but of his faith in Jesus.

See then, to what the hopes of nature, the conclusions of reason and
philosophy, amount, on this interesting subject. We are in the hands of
an all-wise and all-righteous God, and are undone without his favour. Yet
how that favour is to be obtained, we know not; or, if we do know, we
are unable of ourselves to obtain it in the degree, we wish, and to the
ends, for which we aspire to it. Our best speculations on the _means_ of
propitiating Heaven, are mixed with uncertainty; and our best _hopes_
dashed with mistrust and suspicion. For what man is so righteous as to
have perfect confidence in his good works; or, so sanguine, as to think
heaven the due reward of them? And yet will any thing, short of this,
content our impatient desires? Should our virtues merit no more than some
abatement of future misery, so justly due to our innumerable ill deserts,
how sad a prospect have we before us? or, if they do but free us from
punishment, what man is so abject as not to shudder at the thought of
extinction or insensibility? or, lastly, if they supply some faint hope
of future reward, what generous man but wishes more to himself, than a
slight, a precarious, and short-lived happiness; beyond which, as we have
seen, he has no right to extend his expectations?

If the Gentiles, who had only the light of Nature to conduct them, had no
way to get quit of these doubts and fears, their condition was certainly
unhappy, but would bespeak the mercy of God: their disadvantages and
distresses would be allowed for, and considered by him. But for those,
who have now the light of Heaven shining about them, and yet chuse to
walk in the dim, disastrous twilight of their own reason, what must be
their folly, as well as misery? I say, their _misery_. For this last
is no secret to observing men, notwithstanding the airs of gaiety and
satisfaction, they sometimes assume; and indeed deserves the tenderest
pity, though their perverse _folly_ be apt to excite a different passion.

But to conclude: It is enough to have shewn, in justification of the
sacred text, that they who _walk in the light of their own fire, and
in the sparks which they have kindled_, have this recompense of their
choice, allotted to them by the hand of God, and the nature of things,
_That they_ do and must _lie down in sorrow_.

To you, who have determined more wisely to govern yourselves by faith,
and not by Reason only; who rejoice to walk in the clear sunshine of
the blessed Gospel, and not in the malignant light of philosophical
speculation, To you, I say, the reward of your better conduct, is,
that ye know how to recommend yourselves to the favour of God; and ye
know what to expect from that favour: Ye understand that, by FAITH AND
REPENTANCE, ye have peace of mind in this transitory life, and assured
hopes of immortal unspeakable felicity, reserved for you in the heavens.



SERMON XXXV.

PREACHED NOVEMBER 15, 1767.

2 COR. iv. 3.

_If our Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost._


The text implies, that the evidence, with which Christianity is attended,
may fail of convincing the minds of some men. And indeed from the time
that _the Sun of righteousness_ rose upon the earth, there have always
been those, who could not, or would not, be enlightened by Him.

Now it might be a question, whether this effect were owing to the nature
of the evidence itself, or to some obscurity in the manner of proposing
it. This, I say, might have been a question, even among Christians
themselves, if the Apostle had not determined it to our hands. He who was
fully instructed in the truths of the Gospel, knew the evidence, with
which they were accompanied, was enlightened by the same spirit that had
inspired them, and had great experience in the different tempers and
capacities of men, roundly asserts that Infidelity has no countenance,
either from within or without, neither from the sort or degree of
evidence, by which the Christian Revelation is supported, nor from any
mysterious conveyance of it; but that, universally, the fault lies in
those, who do not receive it. _If the Gospel be hid, it is hid to them
that are lost_: to those, who would not be convinced by any evidence
whatsoever.

What the evidences of Christianity, in fact, are, and how abundantly
sufficient for the conviction of all reasonable men, I shall not now
enquire. The subject is fitter for a volume, than a discourse in this
place. Let it be supposed, on St. Paul’s authority, that those evidences
are sufficient; still ye may be curious to know, and it may tend to the
establishment of your faith to understand, how it has come to pass, that
so much light could be resisted.

To this question a pertinent answer has been given from the prejudices
and passions, from the vices and corruptions of unbelievers; it being no
new thing that men should _love darkness rather than light_, when _their
deeds are_, and when they have resolved with themselves they shall be,
_evil_[101]. _For_, as our Lord himself argues in this case, _Every one
that doth evil, hateth the light, lest his deeds should be reproved:
But he that doth the Truth, cometh to the light, that his deeds may be
manifested, that they are wrought in God_[102].

But then it has been replied, that, though Vice may be many times the
ground of infidelity, and the condemnation of such men be just, yet
that some, too, have disbelieved from no such motives; that the Gospel
has been rejected by persons, who appear to have been men of large and
liberal minds, as free, as others, from all perverse prejudices, and
as little subject to gross vice or passion: Nay, that, in the class of
unbelievers, there have been those who have distinguished themselves
as much by the purity of their lives, as the brightness of their
understandings.

All this may be true; and yet our Saviour affirms, _that he, who
believeth not, is condemned already_[103]; and St. Paul in the text, to
the same purpose, _that if the Gospel be hid, it is hid to them that
are lost_. There must needs, then, be some latent cause of this strange
fact; some secret depravity lurking in the mind of those, who disbelieve
the Gospel, thought appearances be thus fair and flattering. And, though
Christian Charity be not forward _to think evil_ of his neighbour, yet
in this case we have reason to suspect it: and what we suspect, we may
perhaps find, in a VICE so secret and insinuating, that it creeps upon
men unawares; so congenial, as it were, to our depraved nature, that
hardly any man can be sure of his being wholly free from it; and so
ingenious in disguising itself, as to pass upon others, nay upon the man
possessed by it, for one of his best qualities.

By these characters, ye will easily see I speak of self-love, or rather
the vicious exertion of it in what we call, PRIDE: A vice, which may as
fatally obstruct our pursuit of Truth, as any the most vulgar immorality;
and the rather, because it is not easily suspected or acknowledged by us.

This vice then it may be, that _hides the Gospel from those_ better sort
of men, _to whom it is hid_. They had need examine themselves well, for
it assumes, as I said, the most imposing forms. Who would look for it,
in the cultivation of the mind, and the love of Virtue? Yet in either of
these, it may lie concealed: and an inquirer into the truth of the most
rational, and the purest of all religions, may be prejudiced against it
by a double Pride, by the PRIDE OF REASON, and the PRIDE OF VIRTUE.

I. FIRST, _Infidelity may proceed from the Pride of Reason_.

When it pleased God to bestow the faculty of Reason on his creature, Man,
he intended that this substitute of himself should be the guide of life,
and the handmaid of Religion. And that it might serve to these purposes,
it was made sagacious enough, if honestly exerted, to lead him to some
competent knowledge of his Maker, and of his moral duty, and to judge
of the pretensions of any further light from Heaven, which might be
graciously vouchsafed to him.

Man, proud of this free Gift, was in haste to make trial of its strength;
and finding it could do something, too easily concluded it could do every
thing. Yet its weakness soon appeared; first, in man’s transgression,
and consequent forfeiture of another free Gift, that of immortality; and
next, in the portentous errors he fell into, both in respect of virtue
and religion. For God, who had graciously intended for him, in due time,
another and safer guide, to prepare him for the reception of it, and to
convince him, in the mean time, how much it was wanted, had suffered him
to abuse this, to the worst purposes, of immorality, and idolatry: by
both which the earth was generally overspread for many ages, and even in
the most enlightened times, notwithstanding his Reason might, and should
have taught him better.

But God’s wisdom and goodness foresaw this abuse, and provided, from
the first, for the correction of it. He had signified his purpose from
the moment of man’s transgression, and afterwards by a gradual opening
of his scheme, in many successive revelations; all terminating in that
universal redemption of mankind by the sacrifice, and through the Gospel,
of his Son. This last and greatest instance of the divine love for man,
it might be expected, after so much experience of his own debility and
folly, he would gladly and thankfully receive; and, that he might be
qualified to discern the hand of God from the practices of fallible
and designing men, was one main end, as I said, which God designed in
lighting up the lamp of Reason in him.

But now this boasted Guide, though found to be poor and weak, grew proud
and presumptuous. It would not only judge of the credentials of divine
Revelation (which was its proper office, and without which faculty
of judging there could be no security from the endless impostures of
fanaticism and superstition, but not content with this power) it would
decide peremptorily on the nature and fitness of the Revelation itself;
and would either admit none, or such only, as it should perfectly
comprehend.

Here, then, Reason forgot its own use, and power: its use, which was to
bring him to the acknowledgement of a divine Religion; and its power,
which did not enable him to judge of the infinite counsels of God, but to
try whether any such were revealed to him. In a word, he forgot that his
utmost capacity extended no farther than just to see whether the proposed
Revelation were such as might come from God, as contradicting no clear
and certain principles of reason, and whether the evidences were such as
proved that it did so. If it contained nothing repugnant to right Reason,
that is, to a prior light derived from the same source of Truth, it might
come from Heaven; if the attestations of it were clear and convincing,
it must proceed from that quarter. To try its credibility and authority,
was then within the province of Reason: to determine of its absolute
necessity and fitness, and to explore the depth and height of those
counsels, on which it is framed, was above its reach and comprehension.

Yet Reason assumed to herself, too generally, this latter office;
and this I call, the PRIDE of Reason. Hence all its wanderings and
miscarriages; from this perverse application of its powers arose all the
heresies that have distracted the Christian Church, and all the infidel
systems that have been invented to overthrow it. In both cases, men would
be wise _above_, or _against, what was written_.

Of the Heresies, I have nothing to say at this time. They appear at large
in the ecclesiastical historian. Of the dreams of infidelity, as arising
from the fumes of pride, so much is to be said, as my present subject
requires of me, but this in as few words as possible.

_The pride of Reason_ has then pronounced (as it operated at different
times, and on different tempers), that Revelation is unnecessary,
because Reason could see and discover by its own light all that was
needful to our direction and happiness—that, if it were wanted by us,
it was impossible to be given consistently with the laws of nature and
experience—that as to that pretended scheme of Revelation, called the
Gospel, its morality indeed was pure enough, but that it carried no other
internal marks of its divinity: that its doctrines were such as Reason
would not expect, and in many cases could not understand: that it talked
of divine things in a manner that was strange and extraordinary; of a
purpose to redeem mankind which, if it were needful at all, might have
been effected by more rational and less operose methods; and to save and
sanctify them by such means as seemed fanciful and delusive: that the
divine nature was spoken of in high mysterious terms, which puzzle and
confound our Metaphysics; and that the offices, in which the Godhead
was employed, are either degrading, or such as imply an immoderate and
inconceivable condescension.

And what then, say others, is the basis on which this incredible
Revelation rests? Why on _Miracles_, which we cannot admit, as being
violations or suspensions of those laws, by which we know the Supreme
Being governs the world; and on _Prophecies_, which may have been
feigned, as many have been, or which imply such a prescience in the
Deity of free contingent events, as is perhaps impossible. If the Gospel
then is to be admitted as a truly divine Revelation, convince us, that
its external proofs are above all doubt and suspicion; and that all its
internal characters are such as lie open to the perfect scrutiny, and
entire investigation of our faculties.

Thus does the Pride of Reason vaunt itself, against Reason. For, if to
any or all of these objections (on which so many infidel systems hang) we
should only say, _that they are nothing to the purpose_, what could the
objectors reply to us? If pressed closely, they could only take refuge
in this principle, _that no Religion can be divine, all the reasons of
which are not fully known to us_; a principle, for which they have surely
no warrant from right Reason. How do they know what is necessary, or fit,
or right, with regard to the divine dispensations, I mean (which is the
case here) when they only silence, not contradict our Reason? Every thing
may be fit and right, and might appear to be so, if the whole scheme of
Providence were fully unveiled to us. It must be fit and right, whether
we see it or no, if the Religion in question be credibly attested: And
the credibility will depend not on our fancies or expectations of I know
not what irresistible evidence (which it might be best and wisest not to
give) but on the real moment of the arguments, on which it is established.

So that the last effort of Infidelity is only an appeal to the ignorance
of mankind; which proves nothing but the necessity of a long-forgotten
virtue, Modesty, in our researches into Religion.

We see then how the _Pride of Reason_ has betrayed presumptuous men into
a disbelief of Revelation, and how true it is that, _if the Gospel be
hid, it is hid to them that are lost_, as well by _this_ means, as by any
other.

II. But, secondly, there is A PRIDE OF VIRTUE, as well as of Reason: and
by this Pride, too, (such is the infirmity of our common nature) _the
Gospel may be hid from us_.

On whatever foundation a man chuses to build his moral system, he easily
convinces himself of the worth and excellence of moral action. The
reasonableness, the utility, and the beauty of Virtue are so conspicuous,
that even the vicious look up to her with respect, and the virtuous
easily grow enamoured of her. Thus it came to be among the extravagances
of the Stoics, its best friends in the pagan world, that virtue was not
only the perfection of man’s nature, but that it raised him in some
sense, above the Divine[104]. And to make their arrogant system all of a
piece, they further maintained that this super-celestial virtue, in which
they gloried, was their own proper acquisition; that they derived it
wholly from themselves, and that God did not, and could not give it[105].

This, you will say, was stoical pride; but it is, too commonly, also,
the pride of virtue, of whatever denomination. Penetrated with a lively
sense of its use and excellence, virtuous men, especially of a certain
temperament, take fire from their own heated ideas, and flame out into a
kind of moral fanaticism. They consider virtue, as the supreme and only
good, absolute in itself, and independant of any other. They exalt and
deify themselves in their own imaginations; and, though their language
may be more decent, the sense of their hearts is truly stoical.

See, now, whether virtue, under this intoxication, be in a condition to
benefit by the sober truths of the Gospel. It presents to us a frightful
picture of the moral world; much is said concerning the weakness
and inefficacy of moral virtue. This representation, of itself, is
disgusting. But one great design of the Gospel was to reform this state
of things: And thus far is well: But by what means would it reform it?
Why, among others, by Faith and Hope. Yet, in Faith, the proud moralist
sees no virtue, at all; and Hope, in his ideas, degrades and servilizes
his adored virtue. The Gospel proposes to save us by the sacrifice of
Christ: But He acknowledges no need of any sacrifice; relies, with
confidence, on his own merits; and disdains the notion of an intercessor.
He holds, that nothing more could be intended by a Revelation, if such
were given, than the promotion of our virtue; and that we want not its
aid, for that purpose: that we read our duty in the sense of our own
minds; which Reason enforces in as high terms, as the Gospel, in a more
engaging way, and on principles more sublime and generous.

Above all, the Gospel speaks much of the succours of Grace, as necessary
to infuse and to confirm our virtue; a language, which the _Pride_ of
virtue will not understand: And of a Heaven, and a Hell; by which if any
thing more be meant than the proper natural effects of virtue and vice
itself, the idea is rejected, as superfluous and even childish.

To such an extreme of folly, and even impiety, may the Pride of virtue
carry us; and so fatally may _the Gospel be hid from those_, whom this
last infirmity of human nature blinds by its specious illusions! And that
this is no ideal picture, but one taken from the life, will appear to
those who know any thing of human nature; and of the perverse prejudices,
by which some ingenious, and otherwise virtuous men, have suffered
themselves to be misled in their religious inquiries[106].

Enough has been said to shew the issue of intellectual and moral _Pride_:
And how it comes to pass that men _lose_ themselves, who reason, on
Religion, without modesty, or would be virtuous without Religion.

The application is short, but striking. It is, That men should examine
themselves well, before they presume to think slightly of the Gospel.
They may learn to suspect the power and influence of their grosser
passions, when they see that even these refined ones may corrupt their
judgement, and betray them into Infidelity.

The Apostle says expressly, that _if the Gospel be hid, it is hid to them
that are lost_: and who, that rejects the Gospel, but must tremble for
himself, when his REASON, nay his VIRTUE, may be the instrument of his
ruin?



SERMON XXXVI.

PREACHED NOVEMBER 13, 1774.

1 PETER iii. 15.

_—Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh You a reason
of the hope, that is in You, with meekness and fear._


These words have been often and justly quoted to prove the rational
genius of our religion: but they have sometimes been quoted to prove
much more, “The obligation, that Christians are under, to justify their
religion, in the way of argument, against all opposers, and to satisfy
all the difficulties and objections, that can be brought against it.” A
magnificent pretension! but surely without authority from the text, as I
shall briefly shew, by enquiring,

1. Who the persons are, to whom this direction is given:

2. What that _hope_ is, _which is in them_, and concerning which they are
supposed to be interrogated: And therefore

3. Lastly, what the proper _answer_, or apology must be, of those
persons, when required to give a reason of such hope.

The resolution of these questions will afford us a clear insight into the
meaning of the text: and then we shall be enabled to make some pertinent
and useful reflexions upon it.

1. St. Peter addresses himself to _the elect strangers scattered
throughout Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bythinia_—i. e. most
probably, to Jewish Christians, dispersed through these countries, in
which they were properly _strangers_; though, in some sense, all good
men are strangers and sojourners on earth, and therefore the use of this
term may not necessarily exclude such Heathen converts to the faith,
as lived in those quarters. But whatever be the precise meaning of the
term, it is clear, that all persons of this general denomination, or all
the _stranger_ Christians, residing in the places, here mentioned, are,
without distinction, concerned in this catholic epistle. There is not a
word that implies any difference of age, or sex, or education, or rank:
not the least regard is had to the office of some, or the qualifications
of others: all indiscriminately, of the class specified, who had
knowledge and understanding enough to profess themselves Christians, are
the objects of the Apostle’s address: and of these, universally, is the
requisition made, that they be _ready always to give an answer to every
man, that asketh a reason of the hope that is in them_. But what then

2. Is that _Hope_, of which all such persons were expected and required
to render a reason? Plainly the general hope of Christians, the hope of
eternal life, the hope of a resurrection from the dead, the blessed hope,
in short, of salvation through Jesus Christ.

The context shews, that it was this hope, and this only, of which they
were to give an account. For, in the preceding verse, the Apostle had
been speaking of the trials which they should undergo for the sake of
their religion. Possibly, they were, then, in a state of persecution;
or, it was foreseen that they soon would be in that state. _But and if
ye suffer, says he, for righteousness sake, happy are ye._ Why? because
they knew the _hope_ of their calling, and the ample recompense that
would be made them in a future life for all such sufferings. Therefore,
he advises that they should always have this precious hope present to
them, and well established in their minds: nay, and that, for their own
better support in the midst of their sufferings, and for the vindication
of themselves to others, their persecutors, perhaps, who might ask on
what grounds they exposed themselves to such torments, they should have
in readiness an _answer_, or apology for their own conduct, setting forth
the reason they had to confide in that hope; from which reason it would
appear that they acted, as became prudent men, and not as blind, frantic
enthusiasts.

It being now seen, to whom the text is directed, and what the _hope_,
under consideration, is, we have no difficulty in answering

3. The last question, “What the proper _answer_ might, or rather must be,
of such persons, when required to give a reason of such hope?”

For what other answer could they give (and this they all might give),
than that their Lord and Master, Jesus Christ, by whom they had been
encouraged to entertain this hope, had shewn himself well able to make
it good by his own resurrection? They might say, in the words of the
Apostle Paul (who apologized for himself to the Athenians, in like
circumstances), We therefore think ourselves happy in suffering for
righteousness sake,—_because God hath appointed a day in the which he
will judge the world in righteousness, by that man whom he hath ordained;
whereof he hath given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him
from the dead_[107].

This was an obvious reason of the _hope, that was in them_, and level
to all capacities. It was, also, a sufficient reason, if it was any
at all, that is, if the fact alleged be true; and, that it was so,
they might appeal to the testimony of those, who had seen the Lord and
conversed with him, after his resurrection; nay, whom themselves had seen
confirming that testimony _by signs and wonders_, done in the name of
Jesus.

We see, then, what is the true and full meaning of the text. The Apostle
exhorts those, to whom he writes, all of them, the simpler, as well as
more informed, to bear in mind the end of their religion, EVERLASTING
LIFE; and the grounds, on which they expected it, the WORD of their
divine MASTER, _confirmed to them by them that heared him_[108], and by
his rising from the dead.

And now we are at liberty to make some reflexions on the text, which may
be useful and instructive to us.

And, first, I observe, as most others have done, that Christians are
allowed and encouraged to reason on the subject of their religion, and
to build their faith on conviction. For the Apostle’s advice is, not to
decline the way of argument, but to use such arguments as are cogent and
satisfactory. And in this free exercise of the understanding, which is
permitted, or rather enjoined to all Christians, the manly genius of our
religion is seen, and by it is distinguished from that of every blind and
servile superstition. But then,

Secondly, I observe, that this work of reason is enjoined, only, with
regard to _the hope, that is in us_, that is, to the end and scope of
Christianity, and to the authority on which it rests; in other words,
with regard to the EVIDENCES of this Religion.

It is true, these evidences are a different thing to different persons,
according to their respective situations. To the primitive Christians,
such as those to whom the exhortation of the text is addressed, it was
evidence sufficient, “That they had the great facts of the Gospel,
especially that decisive fact, the resurrection of Christ, reported
to them by persons, who had been eye-witnesses of those extraordinary
transactions, or, who had heared them, at least, from eye-witnesses, and
were endowed, besides, with the power of working miracles in confirmation
of their testimony.” For in those days, it is to be observed, they, who
were commissioned to plant the Gospel in the world, _went forth, and
preached every where, the Lord working with them, and confirming the word
with signs following_[109].

This state of things continued through what is called the Apostolic
Age, and perhaps longer, during which time it was easy for the plainest
Christian to give such an _answer_, to these who required a reason of
_the hope that was in him_, as was perfectly satisfactory. But, when
the Gospels were admitted by the faithful, as authentic accounts of
their Master’s history and doctrine, and when the Apostles had further
drawn out and explained the principles and proofs of Christianity in
their several writings, that is, when the Canon of the New Testament
was completed, and generally received (all which was done within the
first century from the Christian æra), Then the appeal lay to these
scriptures, and the ground of a Christian’s persuasion was, the authority
of the inspired writers. And now, if believers were asked the reason of
_the hope that was in them_, the answer was, “That so it was written in
books, which were in all hands, and allowed by all to contain nothing but
infallible truth.” Nor could the force of this answer be disputed, when
the memory of certain facts was recent, when the places where, and the
person to whom, or for whose use the sacred books were written, could be
pointed out, and when the writers of them were known, by the miracles
wrought by them, to have been under the direction of the Holy Ghost.

On the conviction, which this apology carried with it, the world became
Christian. But in process of time, and after a course of many ages,
it might be doubted whether those books had been transmitted pure and
uncorrupted. And under these circumstances the _answer_, being somewhat
enlarged, stands thus: “That the hope of a Christian is founded on
the authority of the sacred canon, composed by inspired men, as was
universally allowed in the first ages of Christianity, and not materially
altered, as we have reason to believe, to this day.”

The answer given in these three periods, is, you see, very general,
because the question is, on what grounds of reason a plain man could
justify his profession of Christianity: and the answer, in each case, is
a proper one, and of real weight. But the answer of knowing and skilful
men is more particular, may indeed be infinitely varied and extended
according to the abilities of the answerer; and, from such minute,
and laboured apologies much additional light and conviction hath been
derived. Still you see the subject of inquiry, is, the EVIDENCES of
Christianity, how different soever in different ages, and in the view
of different persons in the same age. All that unbelievers have a right
to ask, is, on what grounds we affirm the truth and divinity of our
religion: and the sole duty which the text imposes upon us, is to satisfy
that question. Their curiosity, and our labour, should not, at least
needs not, be extended beyond these bounds. But

Thirdly, what if inquisitive men should go farther, and, when they have
set forth the evidences of Christianity to their own satisfaction, and
that of others, should proceed to give us a _rationale_ of its doctrines:
Would not their pains be useful, as tending very much to promote the
honour of our divine religion?

Perhaps, they might, if _soberly_ employed and if inquirers would set out
with a resolution of stopping in their curious researches, when they had
no ideas, or no clear or distinct ones.

But, even with this restriction, _two_ things are, further, to be
observed. ONE is, that no Christian is bound to make this solicitous
inquiry into the doctrinal, no, nor into the moral part of the Gospel.
It is enough that his faith and life be regulated by its doctrines and
precepts, whether he do, or do not, see the grounds in reason, on which
they stand. Nay, possibly his conduct is then most acceptable, when he
looks no farther than to the authority of the Gospel; agreeably to that
well-known decision of our Lord himself—_blessed is he, who hath not
seen, and yet hath believed_: not, that he expects any man to believe or
to obey him, without reason: but he most approves the ingenuous turn of
that man’s mind, who admits his divine mission, on a sufficient indeed,
but not the highest, degree of evidence; and much more, therefore, who
yields obedience to his laws, acknowledged on such evidence to be divine,
without inquiring further into the reasons of them. Indeed, to what
purpose do I scrupulously ask a reason of that, which I already know
to be just and fit, because reasonably admitted to proceed from divine
authority?

The OTHER observation I would make, is, That, if after the most diligent
inquiry, we should not, yet, be able to penetrate the reasons of many
things, or to give ourselves entire satisfaction about them, this
unacceptable experience should not in the least affect our belief
and esteem of the Gospel. For all that follows from such disappointed
curiosity is only this, That we are weak and blind; and not that the
things themselves are either false or unreasonable. Our duty, therefore,
is to confide in the _revealed word_; not questioning its authority,
or torturing its language; but accepting with thankfulness, what we do
understand, and with reverence, what we do not.

When these two conditions are inviolably observed, the way of minute
inquiry into the doctrines of Christianity, so far forth as they are the
objects of inquiry, at all, may be usefully and commendably employed. For
then none but men of leisure and ability will think themselves concerned
in making such inquiry: and even these, if they should not obtain all the
satisfaction they propose to themselves, will neither attempt to disturb
the faith of others, nor suffer their own faith to be disturbed by their
curious speculations. Still: when learned men are taken up in those
profound inquiries, and seem most confident that they have penetrated
far into the reasons of many things which are kept secret from others,
they should especially remember (and that is the Fourth, and _last_
observation I shall make on the text), to present their _answer_ or
apology to mankind, _with meekness and fear_.

1. With MEEKNESS, or a soft and gentle spirit, breathing in words,
neither passionate, nor assuming; that so they may gain as many, and
exasperate as few, as they can. This was a caution more than commonly
necessary to the first apologists for Christianity, who had to plead
its cause at the tribunal of Kings, at that time, their enemies and
persecutors. But the rule is always a good one to be observed by the
advocates of the Gospel, who never serve it better, than when its prime
virtue, CHARITY, corrects, or rather consecrates, their zeal.

2. The _reason of the hope, that is in them_, should, also, be given
_with_ FEAR: that is, not only with a _fear_ of giving needless offence
to those, to whom they address their apology, but chiefly with a
_reverential awe_ of that transcendantly great Being, whose ways they
desire to contemplate, and some part of whose councils it is their
ambition to unfold. For, when we speak of God, farther than we are
authorized by himself to speak, we are in constant danger of ascribing to
him our own weaknesses, and of degrading his ineffable wisdom, when we
think to exalt it most.

Such reason there is, even when we apologize for the truth of God, to do
it _with meekness and fear_.

To conclude: Religious inquiries, when thus conducted (and only then)
are commendable and useful. They exercise our best faculties on the
noblest subjects: They may be the means of bringing some to the kingdom
of God, and they can alienate none from it. Or, whatever the merit and
the success of these inquiries may be, the authors of them will have
the satisfaction of knowing, that they have inquired in a right manner;
and, that, how little soever their UNDERSTANDINGS have _profited_ the
Almighty[110], they have honoured Him with the noblest sacrifice, which a
mortal can offer to his Maker, that of an HUMBLE AND SUBMISSIVE SPIRIT.



SERMON XXXVII.

PREACHED FEBRUARY 4, 1770.

JOHN vii. 46.

_Never man spake like this man._


If by speaking, be here meant what is called _fine_ speaking, or
a discourse artificially composed according to the rules of human
eloquence, the subject is unworthy of this place, and the praise,
infinitely disproportioned to the divine character of Jesus. A pagan
philosopher, nay, and a Christian preacher, might haply so far forget
himself, as to affect the credit of _fine speaking_; or, his followers
might think to honour him by applauding this talent[111]: But the Son
of God spake with other views, and to nobler purposes; and his inspired
historians would not have condescended to make the panegyric of their
Master, from so trivial a distinction.

Let us see, then, to what the encomium of the text amounts; and what
those CIRCUMSTANCES are, in the discourses of Jesus, which give real
weight and dignity to the observation—_that never man spake like this
man_.

This will be an inquiry of use, and not of curiosity only; we shall find,
in the course of it, very much to confirm our faith, as well as to excite
our admiration.

I. The first particular, that strikes an attentive mind in considering
the discourses of Jesus, is the MATTER of them; the most important; and,
at the same time, the most extraordinary; of the utmost consequence to
mankind, and the most remote from all their natural apprehensions.

But, by the discourses of Jesus, so qualified, I mean chiefly those,
which are truly his own, and properly _Christian_: such as acquaint
us with the dignity of his person, and nature of his office; with the
purpose of his mission, and the manner in which that purpose was to be
effected.

His moral discourses, though they be divine too, yet, being intended,
for the most part, to deliver the religion of nature, or the religion of
Moses, in all its purity, may be thought to contain nothing more than
what human reason had, or might have discovered, or what the Law of God,
at least, had already revealed. Yet it may deserve to be mentioned as an
argument of his superiority to all other moral instructors, that HE ONLY
has delivered a doctrine of life and manners, free from all mixture of
error, and carried in some instances to a degree of perfection which, I
do not say Reason, but, no Doctor of reason ever prescribed; and that he
penetrated further into the true meaning of the Jewish Law, than any of
its expositors had ever done.

But, as I said, I confine myself to his _peculiar doctrines_, such
as constitute the substance of that religion, which we properly call
Christian.

And here, the weight of his doctrine must be felt by those persons who
reflect that, coming into a world overrun with vice and misery, he
proclaimed pardon and peace in this life, and everlasting happiness and
glory in the life to come, to all who with penitent hearts and true faith
turned to him. What Doctor, Philosopher, or Legislator _ever spake as He
spake_, on these important articles? What had Nature taught the Gentile
world? Some fine lessons of morality, indeed, which might direct their
lives for the future; but none that could set their minds at ease from
past guilt, none that could free their consciences from instinctive
terror, much less could erect their hopes to any assured prospect of
immortality. What had Moses taught the Jews? A divine religion, it is
true, but such as left them under the burthen of a painful and oppressive
ritual, in which the neglect of any one precept, or the irregular
performance of any, might shake their security; and of which, when
punctually observed, the reward was only some present ease or convenience
in this world. What was there in either institution, that could deliver
men from all doubt and uncertainty about their future condition, or that
could disarm and appease the universal guilt of mankind?

Let this then admonish us of what, from its familiarity, we are, now,
so prone to forget, the importance, which characterized the doctrine of
Jesus.

The _extraordinary nature_ of it equally appears; but will further
and chiefly be seen, if we attend to the means, by which this supreme
blessing is said to be conveyed, and effected.

That a divine person, divine in the highest sense of the word, should
descend from heaven and take our nature upon him; _the Heir of all
things_[112] should be content to appear _in the form of a servant_[113];
and, having _life in himself_[114], should chuse to suffer death; that,
by this astonishing humiliation, he should propose to effect an end,
equally astonishing, The salvation of a ruined world; that, being without
sin himself, he should offer himself a sacrifice for sin; that in virtue
of his all-atoning death, he should undertake to abolish death, and
open the gates of eternal life to the whole race of mortal man; that,
in this way, he should assume to be our _Wisdom and Righteousness_, our
_Sanctification and Redemption_[115]; These are the great things of
which Christ _spake_; these the amazing topics with which he filled his
discourses. And must we not conclude, that _he spake as never man spake_?
I do not, at present, urge the accomplishment of all these wonders. That
is a distinct consideration. But it must be allowed, that he _spake_ in
this tone, and to this effect. And did ever any man before him utter such
things? Did it ever enter into the heart of man to conceive such things?
which surely are enough to arrest our attention; to turn our thoughts on
the evidence, with which they are accompanied; and, till we admit the
force of that evidence, to convince us, at least, that such a speaker
as this, is eminently distinguished from all other speakers, that ever
addressed themselves to mankind. He discovered, on other occasions, no
defect of mind, or temper; nothing, that should lead us to suspect him of
weakness, or enthusiasm; And when such a person so speaks, the sublime
and extraordinary nature of his doctrine is no small presumption of its
truth.

II. Another circumstance that distinguishes the discourses of Jesus, is
the AUTHORITY, with which they were delivered. The people themselves
remarked this circumstance, and were astonished at it; _for he taught
them_, says the sacred historian, _as one who had authority, and not as
the Scribes_[116].

Interpreters differ in explaining what this _authority_ was; but it
consisted, very clearly, in these three things. 1. He taught mankind
without any degree of doubt and hesitation, with the air of one who knew
the truth of what he said, and was perfectly assured of all he spake.
_Verily, verily, I say to thee, we speak that we do know, and testify
that we have seen[117]._ 2. He taught his great lessons of morality and
religion, not as derived from the information of others, or from the
dictates of his own reason, but as immediately conveyed to him from the
source of light and truth, from God himself. _Whatsoever I speak, even
as the Father said to me, so I_ speak[118]. 3. Lastly, He delivered his
doctrine on very many occasions, as the proper author of it, as one
who had a right to propose the terms of Salvation, in his own name. I
_say unto You_—is the formulary, with which he prefaces his momentous
instructions. _He that believeth on the Son, hath everlasting life, and_
I _will raise him up at the last day_[119]. _Be thou faithful unto death,
and_ I _will give thee a crown of life_[120]. Nay, he goes so far as
to assert expressly, _that he hath life in himself, even as the Father
hath life in himself_[121]. And though he says, at the same time, that
he had this privilege given him by the Father, and though he declares,
elsewhere, that as the _Father had taught him, so he spake_[122];
yet there is no contradiction in these affirmations; for he tells us
expressly—_All things that the Father hath, are mine_[123]; _And I and
the Father are one_[124].

These three circumstances, taken together, constitute the proper
authority of Christ’s doctrine. It was the authority of one, who spake
from conviction; who spake by the special appointment of God the Father,
who even spake, by virtue of his own essential right, from himself, and
in his own name.

Compare, now, this _authoritative_ way of speaking, with that of the
Jewish scribes; who explained their Law, as they could, by the precarious
traditions of their forefathers, and the uncertain glosses of their
celebrated Doctors: Compare it with that of the Gentile Philosophers; who
quibbled, by the help of a little logick or metaphysicks, on the nature
of God and the Soul; who advanced their doctrines of futurity, on the
credit of an old fable, or an old song; and even delivered their moral
lectures on the weak grounds of their fanciful or discordant systems; in
the way of negligent speculation, or, which was worse, of altercation and
dispute: Compare it, lastly, with that of all others, who, in antient or
modern times, have taken upon themselves to instruct mankind; and see, if
any of these ever assumed the exalted tone, or spake with the _authority_
of Jesus, of _the Carpenter’s Son_, as Julian and the followers of that
school affect to call him.

But high pretensions, you will say, prove nothing. Not much, indeed,
when destitute of their proper supports; yet so much, as to verify the
observation of the text—_that never man spake like this man_. And if they
prove thus much, they prove more; the necessity, or reasonableness, at
least, of examining whether these pretensions be well founded. For claims
of so extraordinary a nature, as they must needs awaken our curiosity,
so they may demand our belief. When a voice speaks, as from heaven, it
naturally turns our attention to that quarter; and, when it speaks in
_inimitable thunder_[125], it speaks, methinks, like itself, and in
accents that cannot well be misunderstood.

But our next observation will carry us further. For I make it

III. A third circumstance, in the character of Christ’s _speaking_, that
he expressed himself with more than mortal WISDOM, on many occasions,
when the malice and captious subtlety of his enemies put that wisdom to
its utmost test.

He gave early proofs of his wisdom, when, at the age of twelve years, he
reasoned with the Doctors in the temple, to such effect, _that all who
heared him, were astonished at his understanding and answers_[126].

These answers, indeed, are not recorded; but many others are, in the
course of his ministry; answers to nice, insidious, and concerted
questions of the ablest men among the Jews, in critical circumstances,
and on the most trying emergencies. And to these questions he always
replied with a presence of mind so unshaken, with a judgment so
infallible, with a dexterity and prudence so conciliating, and at the
same time with an integrity so pure and perfect, that no advantage could
in any degree be taken against him. His adversaries came again and again
to the charge; whom yet he repelled with so triumphant a superiority over
all the efforts of their wit and malice, that he forced them in the end,
_to marvel and hold their peace_[127]. His divine responses came out so
contrary to their hopes and their interests, that they were discouraged
and deterred from provoking any more of them—_they durst not ask him any
more questions_[128].

The limits of this discourse will not give room for a detailed account of
these questions and answers. But they are thick sown in the Gospels: And
ye will understand me to point more especially at those, that respected
his divine character, and kingly office[129]; in which conversations the
danger was, lest he should drop something that might be made a handle
against him before the Jewish Consistory, or the Roman Tribunals; while
yet he was not to betray his cause, or bely his pretensions. The danger
was instant, and, if he had fallen under it, must have been fatal. For,
in withdrawing his claim of being the Messiah, the _King of Israel_,
he must have owned himself an impostor; in asserting it, at this time,
clearly and openly, he would have given his enemies a pretence for
treating him, as a criminal of state; an imputation which could not
consist with the truth or dignity of his mission. He came into the
world to suffer death, indeed; but not as convicted of any crime, not
as colourably condemned by any legal sentence. His innocence was to be
conspicuous, and his honour unimpaired[130].

In this respect, then, it seems, as if it might be truly affirmed, that
_never man spake as this man_. And, if this much must be allowed, we are,
methinks, but a little way from a further conclusion, _That, therefore,
he spake by a divine spirit_.

If it be said, that this conclusion does not hold, _for that the same
faculties of the human mind, which make us capable of_ SEEING _this
wisdom, may have_ PRODUCED _it_, the ground of the observation is neither
likely, nor true. Not likely in the present instance, where the wisdom in
question appears to be exquisite and constant: qualities which we are not
accustomed to find united in the efforts of human wisdom. But neither,
in general, is the position true: For then, the power of perception and
invention would be the same; then, the divine intellect would be levelled
with the human; then, the wisdom of God himself, so far as it was
acknowledged and understood by us, would be our wisdom. Whereas, common
sense tells us, that to discover a truth and to apprehend it, to project
a measure, and to conceive the fitness of it, are two things[131]: And,
though men differ widely in their capacities from each other, yet there
is a capacity, which no man may claim, as there is a wisdom, to which
no man pretends. The sublime views of God in the system of nature are
comprehended, to a certain degree, and justly magnified and unfolded by
many men, who, yet, have not the presumption to suppose that they were
themselves capable, of planning such a system. In like manner, we may see
and adore the wisdom, with which Christ _spake_, and yet conclude, upon
good grounds, that as no man ever did, so no man ever could, speak with
such wisdom.

IV. A fourth circumstance (and the last I shall mention) which
distinguished Jesus, as a Speaker, was the penetrating influence of his
discourses, or the divine ENERGY, with which they were accompanied.

Other speakers have thought it enough to convince their hearers by
cogent arguments; to excite their passions by lively images; to touch
the general springs of humanity, or to practise on the peculiar foibles
and prejudices of the party addressed. But Jesus had the singular art to
convince without reasoning, and to persuade without rhetorick. Few and
simple words, from that mouth, attained their end with ease: they struck
the soul with more than all the effect of that eloquence, which hath
been compared to lightning: they needed no help from tropes and figures,
from the acquired knowledge of human nature, or from the information
of others, but went directly to the heart by their own proper and
irresistible virtue. In a word, Jesus saw what no art could divine, he
saw intuitively the naked conscience, the secret individual thoughts of
those, with whom he had any concern; and being able, withal, to possess
their minds with a consciousness of this intuition, his least word, his
look, nay his silence must needs _speak_ beyond the eloquence of other
men.

There are many instances of this sort, recorded in the Gospels. He
saw the malice of the Scribes and Pharisees[132], while it was yet
latent in the heart, and only forming itself into secret purposes and
mental propositions; and he surprized them by his answers, into shame
and _madness_[133]. He saw the seeds of ambition putting forth in the
minds of his disciples: and by a word or two, he prevented the growth of
them[134]. By only _looking_ upon Peter[135], he struck him into remorse
and tears. And by _answering nothing_, he _astonished_, at once, and
convinced the Roman Governor, who sat in judgment upon him[136].

This inspection of the heart, was that which confounded the officers,
whom the chief priests had sent to apprehend him, and drew from them, on
their return, the advantageous report of the text—_that never man spake
like this man_. For, by what he said in their hearing, he gave them to
understand that he knew their commission before they had opened it: and
so disarmed their rage, by only signifying his acquaintance with their
design.

The effect of what he said and did was, in many conjunctures, wholly
disproportioned to his words and actions: and is only to be accounted
for, from the clear insight he had into the mind, and from the secret
influence which he knew, by an apt sentence[137], or by an expressive
emblem[138], to inject into the conscience of his hearers. And what
resistance can, indeed, be made to such a _speaker_, who hath the hearts
of men in his hands, and _turneth them whithersoever he will_[139]?

In all views, then, whether we consider the _matter_, the _authority_,
the _wisdom_, or the _effect_ of Christ’s discourses, we must needs be
convinced that the text is amply verified, and that _never man spake like
this man_.

To conclude: I have not amused you, in this discourse, with vain
declamation. I am not solicitous to establish the credit of Jesus, as a
consummate orator. My views are other and far higher. I would convince
you, by a reference to plain facts, that he was more than man; that he
spake by the unerring spirit of God; that his word demands not your
praise, but your adoration.

If men would take their ideas of this divine teacher immediately from his
own doctrines, and not as they are misrepresented, or at best imperfectly
represented by the glosses of others, they would come, of themselves, to
this important conclusion: if they would make the Gospel their serious
study, and not their casual amusement, they would want no monitor to let
them into the merits, or the use of it. They would more than see, they
would feel the spirit, with which Jesus spake; and they would readily
offer to him, not their barren applause, but their sincere obedience.

Till this salutary effect be wrought in those who call themselves the
disciples of Jesus, it may not be improper to remind them of what he
himself said to ONE, who was affected, as we may now be, by a sense of
his divine power in speaking. He had been delivering great truths, with
that authority and wisdom, which ever accompanied his instructions, and
the effect was answerable. For _it came to pass_, as he _spake these
things, that a certain woman of the company lifted up her voice, and said
to him_, in the customary style of approbation, _Blessed is the womb
that bare thee, and the paps that thou hast sucked. But_ HE _said, Yea,
rather blessed are they that_ HEAR THE WORD OF GOD, AND KEEP IT[140].



SERMON XXXVIII.

PREACHED NOVEMBER 20, 1774.

MATTH. xiii. 10.

_The Disciples came, and said unto him, Why speakest Thou to them in
Parables?_


Two things are very observable in our Lord’s conduct towards the Jews.
He came to _instruct_ them in the principles of a new religion, and to
_convince_ them of its divine authority. Yet to such of them, as were
least enlightened by his doctrine, he generally addressed himself in
Parables: And before such, as were backward to admit his pretensions,
he was sparing of his Miracles. Now the contrary of this conduct, it is
said, might be expected: That he should have explained himself in the
clearest manner to the uninformed Jews; and should have multiplied his
miracles, for the conviction of the unbelieving.

I propose to consider both these circumstances in the history of Jesus;
and to shew that his conduct, in either case, was suitable to his
character and mission.

I, now, confine myself to the PARABLES; and shall take another occasion
to consider the MIRACLES.

The Disciples, having observed that their Master spoke to the Jews in
a more obscure and indirect manner, than he was wont to do in private
to themselves, _came and said unto him, Why speakest thou to them in
Parables?_

This method of conveying instruction in Parables, that is, in some
feigned story, where one thing is put for another, and in which the
circumstances of the story are to be applied to something different in
the intention of the speaker, is well known to have been of constant and
familiar use in the old world, and especially in the Eastern nations.
This figurative cast of language had its rise from necessity, the rude
conceptions of men requiring general truths to be presented to them, in
sensible images. But it soon came to be affected as an ornamental way of
speaking or writing, the liveliness of the image awakening curiosity,
and affording amusement to the mind. Lastly, it was sometimes employed
as a mysterious cover of important truths, to which a more than ordinary
attention was to be raised, and especially of such important truths as
could not be communicated openly and directly without offence. Under
this last idea, the Parable, properly so called, presents itself to
us. It was contrived on purpose to throw some degree of obscurity over
the information, it contained: And it is in reference to this use and
character of the Parable, that the Disciples ask why Jesus thought fit to
address the Jews in this way.

To this question, why he spake to the Jews in Parables, and not to the
Disciples, our Lord’s reply is in these words—_Because, to you it is
given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but to them it is not
given_.

By this answer we learn, _First_, that the things delivered by him in
this obscure way were not the fundamental truths of the Gospel, but
_the mysteries of the kingdom of God_, that is, certain secrets relating
to the progress of the Gospel, and the event of it in the world; a
consideration, which will be enlarged upon in its place: And, _Secondly_,
that it was not _given_ to the Jews, at large, to be let into those
mysteries, but to the disciples only.

But why _not given to the Jews_? why was it thought less fit for
them, to be initiated in these mysteries, than for the Disciples? Our
Lord condescends to answer, or rather to anticipate this question,
likewise—_For whosoever hath, to him shall be given and he shall have
more abundance; but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even
that he hath_.

The answer, we see, is formed on this general principle, “That
information in the councils of God is not to be claimed as a debt; but
accepted as a reward: that he, who hath acquired some knowledge and
improved what he hath, deserves a further communication of it; but that
he, who hath been at no pains to acquire any, or who puts his knowledge
to as little use, as if he had acquired none, is so far from having
a right to more, that he even deserves to have the pittance, he may
already possess, taken from him.” And what more indisputable rule of
reason, than this, That, in a matter of pure favour, we should deserve,
by our good dispositions at least, this distinction before we obtain
it. So that the answer comes out thus—“I speak to the JEWS in parables,
because they do not deserve, by the pains they have hitherto taken to
learn of me, and by the dispositions they have shewn to improve what
I have taught them, to have further information plainly and openly
conveyed to them: But to YOU, who have already profited by my doctrine,
and are disposed still further to profit by it, to you I address myself
in a plainer manner, because ye deserve to be more fully and abundantly
instructed by me.” And to this answer, thus understood, what objection,
or even what cavil, can be opposed?

But, further, when Jesus said to his Disciples, that _to them it was
given to know the mysteries of the kingdom of God, but to the Jews_,
at large, _it was not given_, this determination must be understood as
founded, not merely on the fitness of the thing, as here explained, but
on the positive will and declared purpose of God. This appears from
what follows. For _therefore_, proceeds our Lord, _speak I to them in
Parables, because they seeing see not, and hearing they hear not,
neither do they understand. And in them is fulfilled the prophecy of
Isaias, which saith, by hearing Ye shall hear and shall not understand,
and seeing Ye shall see and shall not perceive. For this people’s heart
is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they
have closed, lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear
with their ears, and should understand with their hearts, and should be
converted, and I should heal them._

Hence it appears, that the way of speaking in Parables, which Jesus
employed towards the Jews, was that which the word of prophecy had
declared he should employ towards them. So that this was one, among
others, of the marks, by which the Messiah should be known and
distinguished. _To speak in Parables_, was a part of his office: It was a
duty imposed upon him, in his very commission.

But this, you will say, is only removing the difficulty one step
backwards, and transferring it from the Gospel upon the Law; And you
still ask, upon what reasons this strange way of proceeding with the
Jews, thus foretold and enjoined, was founded?

Now, though it becomes us with much reverence to inquire into the reasons
of God’s dispensations, yet as we see, in fact, that it was God’s will
to treat the Jews in this manner, we may be allowed to indulge some
conjectures on the subject; And, as we have traced this difficulty up to
its source, this will be the proper place to attempt a more full solution
of it.

To make way for this solution, let it be observed, that there are two
ways in which this famous prophecy of Isaiah may be regarded by us;
either, first, as _a mere prediction of the event_, namely, that by this
way of speaking to them in Parables, the Jews _would_ not be converted;
Or, secondly, _as a judicial determination of it_, namely, that this
obscure way of teaching was therefore employed, because it was in the
divine councils that they _should_ not be converted. In either way of
considering the Prophecy, this mysterious conduct may, I think, be
cleared up.

If we consider the _event_ only, as pointed out by this Prophecy, then
the reason, which Jesus himself gives of this conduct, and which has
been before explained, namely the general fitness of such a procedure
in itself, is a satisfactory account of it. For what more just than to
leave men to the consequences of their own behaviour, and not to reward
them with that which they neither desire nor deserve?

But, perhaps, the event was not simply predicted of the Jews, but
_determined_ upon them[141]. And there may be reason to take the
prophecy, the rather, in this light, because however fit such a conduct,
as it describes, may be in itself, yet, in fact, it was not observed
towards the Gentiles, nor even the Jews after the descent of the holy
Ghost; the Apostles not addressing either in the way of Parables, as our
Lord had done the unbelieving Jews: and this agreeably to their Master’s
express injunctions to them—_for there is nothing covered that shall not
be revealed, and hid that shall not be known; What I tell you in darkness
that speak ye in the light, and what ye hear in the ear that preach ye
upon the house-tops_[142]. This different conduct may then lead us to
suspect that there was something peculiar in the situation of those Jews,
to whom Jesus addressed his Parables, which this prophecy respected; and
that it was God’s purpose, in the case of such of them as should stand
out against this so long abused mode of information, when proceeding
from the mouth of the Messiah himself, to leave them under a judicial
blindness. And supposing this to be the case, the conduct (as severe as
it seems) may be justified by the following considerations.

1. All the notices, which it had pleased God to give to the ancient
Jews of the Gospel dispensation, were conveyed in this way of Parable.
The terms, employed in the old prophecies, were all taken from the
Law, but the true meaning lay deeper, and the right application of
those prophecies was to the Christian Covenant, and to the character
and dispensation of the Messiah. This method of predicting the Gospel
under legal ideas, was employed for the wisest reasons[143]: The Jews
had been constantly trained and brought up in it; and, notwithstanding
the real obscurity this mode of teaching was intended to have, yet with
fair attentive minds they might easily have apprehended the true drift
and purpose of it. The Prophets call upon them perpetually to give this
attention: they even drop frequent hints, that might lead them to the
discovery: and, upon occasion, do every thing but expound in direct
terms, their own parables.

What now was the effect of all this intelligence, so gradually, so
repeatedly, so solicitously, as it were, imparted to them? Why, they
would not hear, nor understand: they perversely and obstinately rested in
the cover of these predictions; would look for nothing beneath or beyond
it, indulged their prejudices about the eternity of their law, and the
temporal power of their expected Deliverer, so far, that, when at length
their Deliverer came, for whom this chain of prophetic instruction was
meant to prepare them, they did not and would not acknowledge him. For
this gross neglect of a mode of information, so long and so mercifully
indulged to them, God thought fit to punish them by the very instrument
of their offence. He commissioned Jesus still to continue that way of
Parables, which they had so outrageously abused; and so, in his justice,
_made it the occasion of blinding their eyes and hardening their
hearts_[144], to their final rejection and reprobation.

This seems to be the true state of the case: and what has Reason to
object to it? Can any thing be more just, than that a much abused mercy
should end in punishment? And can any thing be more fit, than that such
punishment should be the forfeiture of that blessing, which the mercy
was intended to convey, and should even be inflicted by the very means
of that mercy[145]? What is there in this œconomy of God’s religious
dispensations, which contradicts our ideas of the divine attributes?
Nay, what is there in it, which does not accord to the known methods of
his ordinary and moral government of the world? Health and Prosperity,
Parts and Learning, are the merciful gifts of God to some men. To these
mercies, rightly improved, certain blessings are, in the order of
his providence, annexed. Yet how often do we see men deprived of the
blessings, for their misuse of those mercies, and deprived by means
of the very mercies themselves! The mercies are a snare to them; and
in the way of natural punishment inflict those evils, which they were
intended to prevent. Thus, health and prosperity, ill employed, bring on
a diseased old age, and an uncomfortable enjoyment of life; and parts and
learning, so fitted to produce true knowledge, are the means by which
many are led into presumption and mistake.

And in this way, we easily conceive how justly the Jews were punished,
in their rejection of the Messiah, for their wilful abuse and
misinterpretation of the Scripture Prophesies concerning him; and how
fitly the punishment was conveyed by Christ’s _speaking to them in
Parables_, that is, by that mode of instruction by that very instrument
of mercy, which they had so much abused.

But though this perverseness of the Jews may be reasonably thought
judicial, yet even _in his Judgments God remembers mercy_. Let it
therefore be considered

2. In the second place, that, though Christ’s speaking to the Jews in
Parables did eventually harden their hearts, yet not more so, perhaps not
so much as the open communication of truth would have done.

I before took notice, that the subject of Christ’s parables was not the
fundamental tenets of the Gospel, but _the mysteries of the kingdom of
God_. This we know from the mouth of Christ himself; and it deserves to
be considered. That Jesus was the Messiah, that all men were to believe
in him, and to be saved by him, these great fundamental articles of
his religion, together with his moral doctrine, were published plainly
to all; and the evidences of his Messiahship, as resulting from his
miracles and an appeal to their own prophecies, were in no sense
concealed from the Jews. So that, in truth, the light afforded to them
was by no means so penurious, or so darkly conveyed, as the objection
supposes. What was kept back from them and thrown into the shade, was
only or chiefly, the future fortunes of the Gospel, called _the Mysteries
of God’s kingdom_; of which the rejection of the Jews, and the call
of the Gentiles, were principal. These Christ delivered to the Jews
in parables, _and without a parable spake he not_ on these subjects,
_unto them_. Now, though it be true that, had people penetrated these
mysteries, they might, by a right use of this knowledge, have been led
to a just apprehension of many of their own prophecies, and, in the
end, to an acknowledgement of the Christian faith; yet ’tis likely,
considering their inveterate prejudices, that the clear delivery of these
momentous truths would have had no such effect; nay, that their aversion
to the faith of Jesus might have been increased by having this offensive
information plainly and nakedly presented to them.

And there will seem to be more weight in this conjecture, if we reflect
that even to the Apostles themselves, till after his resurrection, our
Lord proceeded with much caution in unfolding _the mysteries of his
kingdom. Then_, indeed, _he opened their understandings[146]; and,
beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them, in all
the Scriptures, the things concerning himself_[147]. But before that
event had taken place, so much light only was let in upon the minds of
the Disciples, as they were _able to bear_[148]: the _parables_ were in
some measure explained to them; yet a certain degree of obscurity was
still left on the explanation itself.

From which conduct of their great Master, apparently assumed by him in
consideration of their infirmities, it seems reasonable to conclude, That
his greater reserve towards the rest of the Jews, in speaking to them in
_unexplained_ parables, was, among other reasons, therefore chosen by
him, because it was best adapted to their prejudices, and even gave them
the fairest chance for apprehending and embracing his doctrine. But

3. Thirdly, and lastly, what if we suppose (as we have the highest reason
to do, after the trials, which had been already made of them) that no
evidence whatsoever, not the clearest possible information, would, under
any management, have had its due effect on the unbelieving Jews? In this
view of things, the proposing of these mysteries under the impenetrable
cover of Parables was the greatest of all mercies to them, since a
further degree of light would not only have indisposed them to the
reception of it, but must have aggravated their guilt beyond measure, and
have left them totally without excuse. To _blind their eyes and harden
their hearts_ was then a _judgment_, if you will, but surely a judgment
in _mercy_, if ever there was any such thing; a punishment inflicted upon
them in the most tender and compassionate manner, which goodness itself
could contrive, or which their deplorable circumstances could admit.

These things being considered, To the question, _Why did Jesus speak
to the unbelieving Jews in parables_, we may now reply, _first_, That
this conduct was reasonable in itself, on that general principle of
EQUITY, _that he only, who hath, shall receive more abundantly_: That,
_secondly_, the JUSTICE of God was fitly exercised upon them for
their refusing to be instructed by him in the way of Parable, and by
the very medium of Parable, so abused: That still, _thirdly_, this
parabolical method of instruction was, in all probability, better
adapted to their circumstances, and more LIKELY to be effectual, than
a plainer communication: And that, _lastly_, supposing it CERTAIN that
no information whatever would have taken effect, this obscure and
inefficient one of parables served, at least, as some excuse for their
obstinacy, and was contrived, in mercy, to alleviate their guilt.

The result of the whole, is, That we are hence taught to adore the awful
ways of God’s providence, in this instance of _Christ’s speaking in
parables_; in which both his Justice and Goodness are so equally and
signally displayed.



SERMON XXXIX.

PREACHED NOVEMBER 27, 1774.

MATTHEW xiii. 58.

_And he did not many mighty works there, because of their unbelief._


There were two things, I observed, very remarkable in the conduct of our
blessed Saviour towards the Jews. One was, that he chose to instruct the
more ignorant and uninformed of them, in the obscure way of _parable_:
The other, that he wrought but _few miracles_ for the conviction of such
of them as were incredulous and unbelieving.

These two circumstances may be thought strange; because the less informed
the people were to whom he addressed himself, the more need there seems
to have been of the _plainest instruction_; and the less disposed they
were to believe in him, the greater necessity we may think there was for
subduing their unbelief by _the force of miracles_. Yet the conduct of
Jesus was not according to these expectations, in either instance; and
has accordingly furnished the occasion of TWO corresponding objections to
his divine character and mission.

To the _former_ of these objections, that which respects his _way of
speaking by parables_, I have already replied in a distinct discourse on
that subject. The _latter_, which respects his _way of working miracles_,
I now propose to consider.

The text, you see, points out the subject, and confines me to it. Jesus,
in discharge of his general office, and from a principle, as we may
suppose, of private affection, _went into his own country_, that is, to
Nazareth, where he had been brought up, with the intention of preaching
the Gospel there, and of giving the people of that place the proper
proofs of his authority and mission. Accordingly, the sacred historian
tells us, _he taught them in their synagogue_; And we know, besides,
that he wrought some miracles; for the people were astonished and said,
_Whence hath this man this_ WISDOM, and these MIGHTY WORKS?

They were the more astonished, because Jesus was no stranger to them; and
the rest of his family, people of an obscure condition, then lived among
them. They knew him only under the idea of a _Carpenter’s Son_, and they
had observed perhaps nothing extraordinary him; or, if they had, this
very circumstance, as is not uncommon among neighbours and countrymen,
might have infused some jealousy and dislike of him. Be that as it will,
their prejudices against him were extreme, and they expressed them in
the most contemptuous manner. _Is not this_, say they, _the Carpenter’s
Son? Is not his Mother called Mary? and his Brethren, James, and Joses,
and Simon, and Judas? And his Sisters, are they not all with us? Whence
then hath this man all these things? And they were offended in him._ To
these disparaging questions, which easily overpowered the evidence of
conviction even from their own senses, Jesus only replied, _A prophet
is not without honour, save in his own country, and in his own house_.
And then the text follows, which says, _And he did not many mighty works
there, because of their unbelief_.

This is the FACT: And the question upon it, is, _Why Jesus forebore to
work miracles among these people, because they did not believe in him?_

Before I reply distinctly to this question, permit me to premise _two_
general observations; one, on the use of miracles, considered in
themselves; and the other, on the use of miracles, as applied to the
Christian dispensation.

_First_, then, I observe, that, a miracle being, for the time, an
alteration or suspension of the laws of nature, our best ideas of the
divine attributes lead us to conclude, that this violence on his own
plan of government is only exerted for some very important end, and will
be exerted no farther, nor oftener, than is necessary to that end. It
is true, it may be difficult for us to judge, in many cases, of that
importance, and of that necessity; but unless both be very apparent
to us, in no case, can we be authorized to require or even expect, a
continuance or repetition, much less a multiplication of these miraculous
exertions. To judge otherwise on this subject, would be to charge God
foolishly, and, in effect, to blaspheme his wisdom.

_Secondly_, I observe, that the use of miracles, as applied to the
Christian dispensation, is to give credit to the character and
pretensions of Jesus. It is supposed in this argument that miracles, duly
circumstanced and fully attested, are sufficient to this purpose; but
there is no reason to suppose that more or greater will be wrought, than
that purpose requires.

These things being premised, to the question, _Why Jesus did not many
miracles, before the unbelieving Jews of Nazareth_, I reply directly by
saying

I. In the first place, _because such a display of his power was not
necessary to their conviction_. I mean not to say at present, that more
or greater miracles would not have convinced them (though it be very
unlikely, that they would), but that they were not necessary to the
end proposed by them, which was to afford such an attestation to the
character of Jesus as might be a reasonable and, in itself, a sufficient
ground of their conviction. More than this the Jews had no right to
expect. And less than this was not offered: For when it is said, that
Jesus did not _many_ miracles at Nazareth, it is implied that he did
_some_; and thus much they confess themselves in asking, _whence hath
this man these mighty works?_

Now _some_ miracles, nay _one single_ miracle, seen and confessed as
such, was a reasonable ground of conviction. More therefore could not be
esteemed _necessary_, that is, were not required to furnish the fit and
proper means of such conviction. Without doubt, God, if he had been so
pleased, might have shattered and confounded all the elements, and have
driven the men of Nazareth, and even the Jewish Sanhedrim itself, by the
force and terror of his almighty power, into an unwilling acknowledgment
of his Son, Jesus. But this is not the way in which he treats his
reasonable creatures, even when he exceeds the ordinary methods of his
providence. He does that which is simply fit and right, in respect of the
end he has in view, and leaves the rest to ourselves. This, as far as we
know, is the universal mode of God’s government, and as far as we can
judge, is the most worthy of him.

Still, it will be said, though Jesus was not obliged to do more for the
conviction of these unbelievers, though more or greater miracles could
not strictly be required of him, yet so limited a display of his power on
such an occasion seemed penurious, and even unkind. A little more zeal,
and some supernumerary wonders, might have better expressed his concern
for his unhappy countrymen. I reply then,

II. In the second place, that as more or greater miracles were not
necessary to the end of giving a just proof of his mission, so they were
most probably not expedient to any other good end, but, on the contrary,
would have been hurtful and pernicious to his unbelieving countrymen.

We have reason to conclude thus, if we consider that the same prejudices,
which obstructed their conviction from _some_ confessed miracles, would
not have given way to _more_. We have an example in the other unbelieving
Jews, especially in the rulers of that people, who, the more and greater
miracles they saw performed by Jesus, were the more hardened in their
unbelief, and the more exasperated against him. They even give it as a
reason for their vindictive prosecution of him, that he _did_, and _was
doing many miracles_[149].

Taking the matter then in this light, what other effect could a waste of
miracles have had, but to heap guilt and vengeance upon their heads? By
leaving these perverse people to themselves, perhaps their prejudices
might subside, and they might yield in time to the evidence they already
had, or they might submit to other evidence, which they should collect
for themselves hereafter. To have irritated their prejudices, now, by
further miracles, might have fixed them absolutely in unbelief.

This conclusion becomes the more probable, if we admit the pretensions of
Jesus: For then he may be supposed to have certainly foreseen the present
impracticability of converting these men, and to have restrained his
power before them, on that account. But I am now arguing with those, who
make this conduct an objection to his pretensions. I offer it therefore
as a conclusion only very probable from the nature of the thing, that
his _not doing many miracles_ before his unbelieving countrymen, was,
among other motives, from _a principle of mercy and kindness to them_. At
least, the contrary, I think, cannot be affirmed with any shew or colour
of reason.

But whatever kindness our Lord might have for these men, his continuing
to work more miracles among them, under the present circumstances, would
have been improper, because

III. In the next place (and this is my _third_ answer to the objection)
_this conduct would have opposed, and tended directly to defeat, the
general end and success of his ministry_.

The proper END of his ministry was to preach salvation to the Jews, and
to give them such evidence of his being the Messiah, as was sufficient
to their conviction. When he had done this in one place, if no very
important considerations induced his longer stay, he was to proceed to
another. This was so essential a part of his office, that it seems not
to have been forgotten, even when there was no peculiar complaint of
_unbelief_, in those with whom he had resided. For when the people of
another place, of more _faith_, as it should seem, _came to him, and_
would have _stayed him, that he should not depart from them_, He refused
to comply with them, and _said, I must preach the kingdom of God to other
cities also, for_ THEREFORE AM I SENT[150].

This then was the end of his ministry. He was to preach the word; but was
not obliged to see that it took effect, or to wait the success of it.
How repugnant then had it been to this end, to waste unnecessary time
and power on unbelieving Nazareth, when so many other cities, and those
better disposed, claimed their share of each!

But, further, the dispositions of these people towards him were such, as
seemed likely, not only to retard and interrupt, but totally to _prevent_
the execution of his ministry. They would either have found means, had he
continued longer with them, to deliver him into the hands of the Jewish
rulers, or by some act of violence would have taken away his life. This
appears from the rage with which they drove him out of their city, and
from their purpose, as St. Luke relates the story, to _cast him down
headlong from the brow of the hill, whereon their city was built_[151].
So that his attempt to convert them by more miracles, might have put
an untimely end to his ministry, when it was now but little more than
begun. And, though this event might at any time have been prevented by
an exertion of his miraculous power, and without doubt would have been
prevented in that manner, had the conjuncture made it necessary; yet
this was no reason for his exposing himself to that danger, since, as
we before observed, miracles are not to be expected or employed, where
the end in view may be accomplished by human means. Accordingly, our
Saviour consulted his own safety on all occasions during the course of
his ministry, by every prudential method: And when he afterwards armed
his disciples with the power of working miracles, he prescribed the
same conduct to them, and, when they found themselves _persecuted in
one city_, bade them _flee to another_[152]. It is generally thought,
indeed, that nothing but a miracle rescued him out of the hands of the
enraged people of Nazareth. If so, his danger among them must have been
extreme, and shews the necessity of his removing from them. However, if
this last miracle was wrought, it was one more added to the number of
those he had worked in that city, and, like all the rest, was lost upon
it. On the whole, it appears certain then, that the _unbelief_ of these
Nazarenes was a just reason for Christ’s _not doing many miracles among
them_, since the opposite conduct would have tended _to defeat the end
and execution of his general office_.

Still, the most direct and convincing answer to the objection is behind:
For,

IV. Lastly, I observe that Jesus _did not many miracles_ before the
unbelieving men of Nazareth, _because_ such a display of his power would
have _been contrary to a general rule of conduct, which he prescribed to
himself, and that, on the highest reason_.

This rule was, _not to work a miracle upon them, or for them, who were
deficient in faith_: By which term, _faith_, I do not mean a grounded
faith in him, as the Messiah, (for that could only be produced originally
by miracles) but such an honesty and probity of mind as might dispose
them to believe on the evidence of miracles. It was in this case, as in
that of _Parables, to him only who hath, more was given_. And therefore
the first question be put to those, who repaired to him for a miraculous
relief of their necessities, was, _Do Ye believe?_ Are ye withheld by
no fixed and willful prejudices from supposing that one, coming to you
under the character of the Messiah, is empowered to do this for you, or
from yielding to its evidence, when it is done? This was so indispensable
a rule with him, that St. Mark, in relating this adventure at Nazareth,
goes so far as to say that he COULD NOT DO many mighty works there
because of their unbelief[153]. The meaning of which is, that there was,
no _natural_ indeed, but a _moral_ impossibility of his working more
miracles there; that is, he _could not do it_, consistently with the
general principles, on which he acted.

And that these principles were founded in _the best reason_, no man
can doubt who reflects, that the highest possible favour, which can
be conferred on man, that is, a miracle wrought for his salvation,
reasonably supposes some degree of desert, some prior dispositions to
profit by it; who reflects farther, that, where such a preparation of
mind is not, the miracle is thrown away; nay, worse than that, can only
serve to the hurt and condemnation of that person, on whom, or for whom
it is performed.

Men have a strange notion, that when God intends to convince any one by
the evidence of miracles, he should repeat and enforce that evidence,
till it take effect, whether we will or not; nay, that the most obstinate
and determined infidelity is only a stronger reason for his contending
with it. But this is a very presumptuous, as well as injurious,
conception of the divine nature: It is presumptuous in the highest
degree, because it supposes that we have a right to prescribe terms
to infinite power and wisdom: It is greatly injurious to the Supreme
Being, because it supposes that he has no regard to the moral worth of
his creatures, or even to any reasonable end, in the wonders he does for
them. The Scriptures represent this matter in another light: they require
something, where much is given; they expect from us to _have_, before we
receive; they suppose us in short to be moral agents, and not machines.
And our Lord himself, speaking in the proverbial language of the Jews,
gives it as a special command to his Disciples, _Not to cast that which
is holy unto dogs, not to cast their pearls before swine_[154]. All this
is agreeable to our best notions of the divine wisdom and goodness,
as well as to the usual course of God’s providence; and therefore on
this footing only the conduct of Jesus towards the unbelieving Jews of
Nazareth is abundantly justified.

To draw to a point, then, the substance of what has been said. To the
question, _why Jesus did not more miracles, before the unbelieving?_ We
reply, That such conduct was not necessary to the end of miracles, which
was to afford a reasonable conviction—that it was not likely to answer
any good end, but, on the contrary, would have been hurtful to such
unbelievers—that it tended to defeat the design and success of Christ’s
ministry, by narrowing the sphere, of shortening the term of it—that,
lastly and chiefly, it was unreasonable in itself, and contrary to the
general scheme and order of God’s moral government.

Let no man then abuse himself with foolish imaginations, as if Christ
was wanting in that which became his office and mission; still less,
as if he acted from any caprice, or unconcern for the souls of men, in
not forcing their belief; but least of all, as if his pretensions had
any thing to fear from the little faith of those to whom he addressed
himself, and could only prevail with the weak and credulous, with those
who were unable or indisposed to scrutinize his miracles. Even this last
insinuation has been made, not only without grounds, but against the
fullest evidence; the miracles of Jesus having been numerous, public,
illustrious, and even acknowledged, at least not convicted of imposture,
by his bitterest enemies, by those who were most active and most able to
examine into the truth and reality of them.

With regard to the miracles in question, let us be so ingenuous as to
confess, that, if these were necessary to announce his office and
character to the men of Nazareth, more than these were unnecessary, and
that their unbelief affords the best grounds to conclude, that they
were so. Consider too, that, if no reasons had occurred to us for this
conduct, it could not certainly appear that it was unreasonable. When we
know, in fact, what the method of God’s dealing with mankind has been, in
any instance, we may be able perhaps to discern good reasons for it. But
we can seldom affirm with any shew of reason, from any preconceptions or
general speculations of our own, what it should or must be. Here we are
manifestly out of our depth, and cannot stir a step without the hazard of
absurdity or impiety.

If we have reason to admit the divine authority of our Religion, whatever
conduct it ascribes to Jesus, must be fit and right, however impenetrable
to us. If we admit it not, our concern is to see that we have reason
for not admitting it. This matter is to be tried by the evidence given
of that authority only, I mean by the external proofs, and historic
testimony, on which it rests. When this is done, no slight cavils of
reason, no fanciful suspicions, no plausible objections, nor any thing
else but the most obvious contradiction in something it asserts to the
clearest dictates of the human understanding (which no man has ever yet
found) can possibly shake, or so much as affect, that authority.

In the present case, we have seen how entirely groundless the objection
is to Christ’s conduct at Nazareth. But if this objection could not have
been answered, nothing had followed but a conviction of our ignorance. It
might still be true (as we now see it to be), that Jesus acted agreeably
to his divine character _in not doing many miracles_ before the people of
Nazareth, _because of their unbelief_.



SERMON XL.

PREACHED MAY 23, 1773.

2 COR. iv. 5.

_We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord._


We may consider these words, either as an _admonition_ to the ministers
of the Gospel, _To preach not themselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord_;
or simply as a _fact_, which St. Paul asserts of himself and the other
Apostles, _That they preached not themselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord_.

In either sense, the words are instructive; but I take them in the latter
sense, only. I would confirm and illustrate this assumed fact: and then
employ it as a medium to prove the divine authority of the sacred
writings. If it be true, _that the Apostles preached not themselves,
but Christ Jesus the Lord_, it will, perhaps, be seen to follow, _That
therefore they preached not from their own private suggestions, but by
the direction of the spirit of God_.

The assertion of the Text is, indeed, general, and to this effect, “That
a number of persons, who were employed to convert the world to the
Religion of Jesus, did, in the tenour of their lives and the course of
their ministry, pay no regard to their own interests of any kind, and
were only intent on the due discharge of their commission.”

But the subject, in that extent, is too large for a discourse of this
nature. What I would offer to your consideration, is ONE SINGLE INSTANCE
of that indifference which the Apostles shewed to their own interests, I
mean, _Their total disregard of human applause in preaching the Gospel_.

In this restrained sense of the words, men may be said _to preach
themselves_, in TWO respects: When they shew a solicitude to set
themselves forth with advantage: 1. as to their MORAL character. And 2.
as to their INTELLECTUAL.

I. When men would give an advantageous idea of their _moral character_,
they usually express this design, either, 1. _By representing or
insinuating their superior worth and virtue_: Or, 2. _By suppressing or
palliating what may render it suspected_: Or, 3. lastly, _By dwelling
on such topics, and in such a manner, as may give occasion to others to
think well of their moral qualities_.

Let us try the Apostolic writings by each of these marks.

1. The first way that men take to illustrate their _moral character_,
is, _By representing, or insinuating their worth and virtue, on all
occasions_.

Consider those apologists for themselves, who have left us memoirs of
their own lives. You will find, in most of these, an ambitious display
of those moral virtues, by which they desire to be distinguished. They
lose no opportunity of setting forth the purity of their designs, and the
integrity of their practice. The rest, may do this with less pomp and
affectation: they may preserve a modesty in the language, and a decent
reserve in the air and cast, of their narration. Still, the same purpose
is discoverable in all these writers, whether they openly proclaim, or
nicely suggest and insinuate their own importance. When men are actuated
with a strong desire of appearing in the fairest light to others, it
unavoidably breaks out in some shape or other, and all the indirect ways
of address cannot conceal it from the intelligent observer.

We have a great example in two, the most extraordinary persons of the
pagan world, I mean, XENOPHON, and JULIUS CÆSAR. These admired men
thought fit to record their own acts and atchievements; and have done it
with that air of neglect and unpretending simplicity, which has been the
wonder of mankind. Yet, through all this apparent indifference, every
one sees the real drift of these elaborate volumes: every one sees, that
they are composed in such a way as to excite the highest opinion, not of
their ability in the art of war only, but of the justice, generosity,
benevolence, in short, the moral qualities of their respective authors.
It evidently appears that they designed to be their own panegyrists;
though none but such men could have executed that design, in so
inoffensive and successful a manner.

But now, if we turn to the sacred writers, we shall find no traces of
their _preaching themselves_, in this respect. These plain fishermen
tell their story unambitiously, and without art; or, if we call it
art, it is such an one as Greece and Rome had never been able to put
in practice. No exaggerations of what may be thought praise-worthy in
themselves: no oblique encomiums on their own best qualities or actions:
no complacent airs in the recital of what may reflect honour on their own
characters: no studied reserve and refinement in the turn and language of
their history.

If there be any virtue, which we may suppose them more than commonly
anxious to arrogate to themselves, any moral quality, in which they would
shine out to the observation of others, what more likely than an unshaken
fidelity to their Master? that Master, whom they made it their glory,
their sole glory, as the Text speaks, _to preach_? Yet they are so far
from respecting their own credit in this particular, that they relate
their own infirmities and miscarriages; they acknowledge how wavering
and precarious their _faith_ was; nay, they tell us that, in his last
distresses, _they all forsook him, and fled_[155].

2. This last circumstance reminds us of the next artifice which men
employ to set off their moral character, _that of suppressing or
palliating whatever may render it suspected_.

As accomplished persons, as the great men, before mentioned, were, can we
doubt that many exceptionable steps were taken by them in the affairs,
they managed: that, on some occasions, their prudence failed them, and
their virtue, on others; that their counsels and measures were conducted,
at times, with too little honesty, or too much passion? Yet, you will
in vain look for any thing of this sort in their large and particular
histories. All is candid and fair, judicious and well advised: every
thing speaks the virtuous man, and able commander. The obnoxious passages
are either suppressed, or they are turned in such a way as to do honour
to their Relaters.

Or, take another instance. When Cicero had offended against the capital
law of his moral code, that, which enjoined the love of his country,
first, by his backwardness to join the camp of Pompey, and, afterwards,
by his prompt submission to the tyranny of Cæsar, What is the conduct of
the illustrious Roman patriot, on this pressing occasion? Does he frankly
condemn these false steps, or does he content himself with a simple
relation of them? Neither of these things: He softens and disguises the
truth; he employs all his wit and eloquence to palliate this inglorious
desertion of his principles, to himself and others.

I might add many other examples. But ye see, in these, a striking
contrast to the ingenuity of the sacred writers. They study no arts of
evasion or concealment. They proclaim their own faults, and even vices,
to all the world. One, acknowledges himself to have been a furious bigot,
a persecutor, and blasphemer[156]: Another, relates his own cowardice,
ingratitude, and treachery[157]. There is nothing like a concert between
them to cover each other’s defects: They expose the vindictive zeal of
one[158]; the intolerant spirit of others[159]; the selfish intrigues
of all[160]. In a word, they give up their moral character to the scorn
and censure of their readers, and appear solicitous for nothing but the
honour of their Master—_They preach not themselves, but the Lord Jesus
Christ_.

But ye will say, this apparent candour was the most consummate art; and
that they confessed some obnoxious passages in their lives, to procure
themselves credit in other instances. This, no doubt, is sometimes the
case with artful writers and speakers: But then only, when small defects
and miscarriages are confessed; or, when the facts are too notorious to
be dissembled; or, if perhaps they confess such things of themselves, as
are highly blameable, and might otherwise have been concealed, they do
it to gain the praise of a more than ordinary frankness and ingenuity,
they apparently make a matter of vanity, even of that confession[161].
The case is much otherwise with the preachers of Jesus. They scruple
not to tax themselves with the most odious vices; and these too, many
times of such a nature as shews, they might well have been kept secret
from all the world; while yet the discovery is made in such a way, that
suspicion itself cannot charge them with the design of drawing any credit
to themselves from it.

Hitherto, we have considered how many men may contrive to celebrate or
insinuate their own virtues, to suppress or disguise their own vices, in
narratives or memorials of their lives; and how free the Apostles are
from the suspicion of doing either. But the same design may be prosecuted
in writings of another sort: and we have writings of another sort from
the hands of the Apostles. I observe then

3. That, when writers are studious of their own fame, they find means,
in any moral or historic work, though themselves be not the professed
subject of it, to do honour to their own character, _by dwelling on such
topics, and in such a manner, as may give occasion to others to think
well of their moral qualities_.

They declaim, perhaps, with much heat against certain vices, or
expatiate with much complacency on certain virtues; or, they labour some
disgraceful portraits of bad men, and draw their favoured characters with
all the heightenings of panegyrick: And who will suppose, after this
specimen of their zeal, that they themselves are not adorned with those
good qualities, which they so studiously recommend, or are not exempt
from those bad ones, which they so industriously expose? The artifice is
so common, that we have it played upon us every day; and yet so imposing,
that it constantly succeeds with us. How many popular characters does
every one call to mind, that have no foundation but in this favourable
prejudice! But let me carry your thoughts back to ancient times, and
fix them on far higher instances. Who that reads the moral prefaces and
digressions of the historian SALLUST, but must imagine the author to have
been a model of ancient frugality and austere manners? And who that looks
into the philosopher SENECA, and finds him all on fire in celebrating
some distinguished characters, and exposing some detested ones, but will
conclude the writer to have been himself accomplished in all virtue?

I make no enquiry, at present, into the real characters of these
illustrious persons: I pass no judgment on the real merit of their books.
Their zeal might be an honest one; and the form of their writings might
be owing to that zeal. But this, I observe, that the form itself is well
suited to the purpose of those who would _preach themselves_; and that
the sacred writers have not thought fit to adopt this method.

Their books indeed are full of moral sentences and moral precepts (for
they are teachers of morality by profession); but short, and simple; and
though earnestly enforced, not ostentatiously displayed. The historic
part of their writings is wonderful for its calmness, I had almost said,
insensibility. No attempt to colour their good or bad characters. Even
the transcendant virtues of their Master are left to be collected rather
from the simplest exposition of what he said and did, than from any
formal representation of them: And, what is stranger still, his betrayers
and murderers are loaded with no invective, nor set to scorn in any
odious lights[162]. These divine men are superior to the prejudices even
of virtue itself; and have so little thought of deriving a vanity from
their own honest feelings, that we are almost left in doubt, whether they
were, indeed, actuated by them.

II. Thus much for the indifference of the sacred writers to their moral
character: Let us now see whether they are more concerned for their
INTELLECTUAL.

There are two ways which men take to display their mental qualities:
1. _By labouring to make appear an extraordinary acuteness of
understanding_: And 2. _By aiming at the praise of extraordinary wit and
eloquence_.

It is superfluous to observe to you how these two characters predominate
in all the writings and speeches of uninspired men. Consider, if there
be one exception in all those whom the world most approves and admires:
Consider, if there be not evident symptoms of this vanity in every single
writer or speaker, that has undertaken to instruct or reform mankind.
I deny not, that many of these have been persons of great modesty and
distinguished virtue: Yet they never lose sight of their own mental
accomplishments; they never forget, under some shape or other, in this
respect, to _preach themselves_. Even He, who now so freely censures
this infirmity in others, is, perhaps, at the instant, an example of it,
himself.

Let us see, then, if _the preachers of the Gospel_ have the singular
prerogative to stand clear of this general imputation.

1. They certainly lay no claim to any superior quickness of
understanding. On the contrary, they relate many circumstances, which
clearly imply their own dulness and inapprehension. They acquaint us with
the gross mistakes, they were apt to fall into, in their conversations
with their Master; they are at a loss to comprehend his parables, nay to
look beyond the literal sense of the plainest figures; they even record
the reproaches which Jesus made to them on these occasions.

But this slowness of conception, it will be said, was in their early
unenlightened state, and was, perhaps, affected by them to do honour to
their subsequent illuminations. Be it so. But how do these illuminated
men employ the divine light, that was imparted to them? In advancing
curious theories in Morals, or in framing subtle Metaphysical systems?
Do they affect a philosophic depth or accuracy in their researches
into human nature, or a superior penetration in their reasonings about
spiritual things? Do they shine in paradoxes? or strike with quaint
aphorisms? Do they entertain us with exquisite positions, or remote
conclusions? Nothing of all this. What they teach of moral and divine
things, is with the air of men, not who make discoveries, but who deliver
known and familiar truths. They tell us many things, which we knew not
before: But they tell them as matters of divine commission, not of their
own collection or investigation. And, for the rest, they presume not to
speculate upon them, at all.

Indeed, the general subject of their discourses was such, as gave no
scope to the exercise, and afforded no gratification to the pride,
of Reason. They publish to the world a matter of fact, of which they
were eye-witnesses; they attest the death and resurrection of Jesus,
and preach remission of sins in his name. These were the points _they
witnessed both to small and great; saying none other things than those,
which they had seen and heard, and which the Prophets and Moses did say
come to pass_[163]. Is there any thing in such a doctrine, as this, that
looks like _preaching themselves_? Can it be thought that such teachers
had an eye to the credit of their own abilities, or that they meant to
advance the reputation of their own understandings above that of other
men?

2. Still less reason is there to charge this ambition on their manner
of preaching, or to imagine that they sought the fame of ingenuity from
the terms in which they conveyed their instructions to mankind. If the
substance of their doctrine was plain facts, their language was that of
plain men. They spake not _with the enticing words of man’s wisdom_;
scarcely with the ordinary propriety, certainly, not with what is called
the purity and elegance, of their tongue.

But the fact is not disputed, rather is objected to them by such as
question their inspiration (with what reason, we shall presently see);
so that I may fairly conclude, that such men could have no purpose to
recommend themselves by the arts of speaking, or, that, with regard to
the praise of wit and eloquence, they could not possibly mean to _preach
themselves_.

Not let it be said, that this unornamented style of preaching was the
effect of their ignorance, and inability to reach the graces of a juster
manner. For, besides that it is no new thing for men to affect what they
have no talents for, it is certain that ONE at least of the Apostles, He,
whose province it was to convert the Gentile world, long since enamoured
of the study of eloquence, and who, of all the Apostles, wrote most, it
is certain, I say, that this great man was not disqualified by a want of
parts or learning, from pretending to this prize of eloquence, if his
ambition had condescended to it.

III. It appears then, with a reasonable degree of evidence, that the
writers of the New Testament had no regard _to themselves_, that is,
to the reputation either of their Moral or Intellectual virtues, in
composing those books. The fact, as singular as it is, seems well
established: And I draw this interesting conclusion from it, _That,
therefore, they preached, not from their own private suggestions, but by
the direction of the Holy Spirit_.

This conclusion follows undeniably from that fact. For, if such a number
of persons, of different tempers, educations, and professions, could be
so disinterested as to overlook their own credit in a point, which all
other men have so exceedingly at heart, and which no other men, nay which
no other single man has ever been able to give up; and that too, when
they were teaching a divine religion, and might therefore seem to have a
decent pretence for assuming all sorts of merit to themselves; if this, I
say, be a certain fact, what can we conclude, but that the Spirit of God,
to whose enlightening influences they ascribed their doctrine, over-ruled
their natural self-love in the manner of preaching it, and that _these
holy men spoke, as they were moved by the Holy Ghost_?

To return then to the Text, and to conclude. _We preach not
ourselves_—said St. Paul, in his own name and that of the other
Apostles—_We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord_. The
writings of these men are still extant; and bear the fullest testimony
to the truth of what they assert. This, then, among many others, is
an intrinsic character, impressed on those writings, of their divine
original. It may be regarded, as a standing miracle, which, as oft as we
revolve and consider them, speaks aloud, as in a voice from Heaven, that
the Scriptures, they have left us, are the _word and work of God_.

If their uninspired successors in the ministry of the word be unable
to copy so bright an example of humility and self-denial, forgive them
this defect, or impute it, if you will, to natural vanity and unsubdued
self-love. But, when ye chance to observe this infirmity in others,
forget not to say to yourselves, that this high privilege of _preaching
not themselves_ was reserved to the Evangelists and Apostles only, to
dignify their character; and to excite, confirm, and support our faith;
in a word, to manifest to all the world, in the very frame and texture
of the sacred Oracles, that they were, indeed, dictated by the Spirit of
God.



SERMON XLI.

PREACHED DECEMBER 15, 1771.

MATTH. xi. 5.

_The Poor have the Gospel preached unto them._


Many circumstances, attending the Gospel of Jesus, are such, as we should
not previously have expected: Yet, when duly considered, they fully
approve themselves to our best reason.

We have a memorable instance, in the Text. Among other marks, by which it
pleased our blessed Lord to authenticate his mission, one was, _That the
Poor had the Gospel preached unto them. Go_, (says he to the disciples
of John the Baptist, who had sent them to know of Jesus, whether he
were indeed the Messiah) _Go, and shew John again those things which ye
do hear and see: The blind receive their sight, and the lame walk, the
lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, and_ THE
POOR HAVE THE GOSPEL PREACHED UNTO THEM.

We are surprized, perhaps, on the first mention of these words, to find
this last circumstance put upon a level with the rest, even with that
greatest of all miracles, _the raising of the dead to life_. We may not
immediately apprehend, why the _Poor_ should be thus considered by the
Saviour of the world; or how the truth of his pretensions comes to be
concerned in this treatment of them. But, upon inquiry, we shall find
there were some important reasons which determined our Lord to this
conduct, and which made that conduct, in a peculiar manner, expressive of
his person and office.

FIRST, This character was directly applied to the Messiah, in the ancient
prophecies. Our Lord himself, in the text, quotes the very words of
Isaiah: So that, _in preaching the Gospel to the Poor_, he fulfilled
that prediction, and so far corresponded to the character, which the word
of prophecy had given of the Messiah.

But this circumstance, we may suppose, would have been no part of the
Messiah’s character, but for reasons which made it fit and right, that He
should be thus distinguished. Let us, further, inquire, then,

SECONDLY, what those reasons, probably were; only premising one word, to
ascertain the objects, both of the prophecy, and of our Lord’s charitable
attention.

There is no doubt but the word, _poor_, in the prophecies alledged, and
in Christ’s application of them, is very capable of being understood
in a metaphorical or spiritual sense, and was even intended to be so
understood; I mean, in that sense, which our Lord gives to the word,
_Poor_, when he says—_Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven_[164]. But this metaphorical sense does not exclude,
it rather supposes, the literal. For, who are _the poor in spirit_,
for the most part, but _the poor in fortune_? they, whom neither the
pride of knowledge and education, nor the pride of wealth and place,
has corrupted with vain ideas of their own sufficiency? But, there is
a peculiar reason for the literal interpretation of the Text. For the
words, _blind_, _lame_, and _deaf_, have, likewise, their metaphorical
sense in the prophet, as well as the word, _poor_. Yet our Lord alledges
the completion of the prophecy, in the literal meaning of those words;
for he refers the messengers of John to what _they saw and heared_; to
the miracles, he was then working, or had worked, on _the blind, lame,
and deaf_, that is, in restoring their bodily senses and members[165].
So that, when the poor are spoken of by Jesus, at the same time, we must
needs understand him as speaking of the _poor_, properly so called, that
is, of the lower ranks of people, whom he was even then instructing, as
well as healing.

We see, then, That Christ _preached the Gospel to the poor_, in the
literal, as well as spiritual sense of that word: And, in so doing,
he both fulfilled the whole extent of the prophecy; and, as we shall
now find, gave an eminent proof of the GOODNESS and WISDOM of his own
character.

For, consider the state of the _poor_, how much they wanted, and how much
better, than the rich, they deserved, instruction, when our Lord, in
mercy, came _to preach the Gospel to them_.

I. The condition of the _poor_, that is, of the people at large, was
truly deplorable, at that time. They were every where treated by their
superiors with the utmost contempt, and left to struggle with an almost
invincible ignorance and corruption.

The Jews, indeed, had the benefit of a divine law: but their Scribes
and Doctors _had made it of none effect, by their traditions_[166].
They had corrupted the word of God, by their fanciful cabbalistical
glosses; and had debased their holy ritual, into a frivolous and sordid
superstition. They had _the key of knowledge_ in their hands; but they
neither employed it to the purpose of opening the true meaning of the
Scriptures, themselves, nor would suffer the people to make this use of
it. In the mean time, their pride increased with their other vices: they
thought themselves _wise and prudent[167], and righteous_[168]; and, in
sovereign admiration of their own worth and knowledge, _they despised
others_. Their insolence to the _poor_ was so transcendant, that they
reproached them for that ignorance, which themselves had occasioned;
and even checked their endeavours to understand the true meaning of
their law, in terms of the bitterest scorn and execration. _Have any
of the Rulers or Pharisees_, said they, _believed in Jesus? But this
people[169], that knoweth not the law, are accursed._

Such was the state of the _poor_, among the Jews: and that of the Gentile
poor was no better. As the former were only insulted, and not instructed,
by their RABBIS; So the _latter_ were just as ill treated by their
PHILOSOPHERS.

These men, indeed, _professed themselves wise_; and had, in some
respects, a juster claim, than the Jewish doctors, to that proud,
distinctive appellation. Though their reasoning, on many subjects (on
which, however, they valued themselves most) was little better than that
of the Cabbalists; yet, in moral matters, which are of the highest
concern to mankind, they had been able to trace out some plausible and
ingenious theories, and had even penetrated so far as to apprehend some
general and fundamental principles of natural religion. Yet all this
was matter of vanity among them, rather than of public use. Their most
interesting speculations were either confined to their schools, or
secreted from the common eye, in their mysteries. Their moral systems
were calculated to amuse, to polish, and, we will say, to instruct the
higher ranks of men; but they were composed in such a way, and proceeded
on such principles, that the vulgar could be little benefited by them.
And, for what they knew of religious truth, they studiously kept it
from the _poor_, and left them to the tyranny of their senseless, their
impure, their abominable superstitions. Even Socrates himself, though he
laboured very commendably to reform the lives of his fellow-citizens,
yet laboured to little effect, as he would not, or durst not, disgrace
their idolatries, the source of all their corruption and misery. The
rest of these wise men were well contented, at most, with being _wise to
themselves_; they stood aloof from the prophane vulgar; and contemplated,
with much complacency, or with much disdain, the popular errors.

Such, and so wretched were the _poor_, when our blessed Lord came to
announce the good tidings of salvation to them! Incapable of themselves
to find out or to understand their duty, and misled, neglected, or
contemned by those who should have been their instructors; lost in error
and in vice, with no prospect of recovering themselves out of either;
without guides, and without friends; in a word, _without hope, and
without God in the world_[170]; What could equal their wants and their
distresses? And how loudly did they cry to Heaven for some friendly hand
to be stretched out, some celestial light to be dispensed, to them?

But, perhaps, these unhappy men deserved not the care of Heaven. And,
without doubt, if we put their claim on that footing, it will be
difficult to make out their title to such distinction. Yet they had
something, too, to plead for themselves, something to engage the regards
of their merciful Creator, if it be true, as I observed,

II. In the next place, that their hearts, depraved as they were, were yet
not so utterly perverse, as those of the _rich and great and wise_, who
poured such contempt upon them.

And, for our satisfaction in this point, we need but look into the
Gospel-history; where we find, from many facts and testimonies, that the
poorer sort among the Jews were they who gave the best proofs of their
disposition to embrace the doctrine, and acknowledge the pretensions, of
Jesus.

When he _preached_ to the Jews, the Scribes and Pharisees, that is, the
_rich and wise_, almost universally and without exception, cavilled at
his doctrine, perverted his words, and sought occasion only _how they
might entangle him in his talk_[171]. But the people, giving way to the
ingenuous sense of their own minds, _heared him gladly_[172]: They were
even _very attentive to hear him_[173]. Nor let it be thought, that the
love of novelty, or some worse motive, which oft seduces the populace
in such cases, was the cause of this attention. They give another, and
better reason of it—_Never man_, say they, _spake like this man_[174]:
Again, _they were astonished at his doctrine, for he taught them as one
having authority, and not as the Scribes_[175]; That is, they had the
sense to perceive there was a weight and force and importance in his
doctrines, which they had never found in any other, and, least of all, in
the light, frothy, and frivolous doctrines of their Scribes; and they had
the honesty to acknowledge and proclaim their own feelings.

Again; When Jesus wrought his miracles before the Jews, while their
superiors were unconvinced, or blasphemed against conviction,
the multitudes cried out in admiration, _Is not this the Son of
David[176]?_—_It was never_, they say, _so seen in Israel_[177]—With a
becoming candour and piety, _they marvelled, and glorified God, who had
given such power unto men_[178].

Thus much for the Jews. And the same difference, between the _rich and
poor_, afterwards appeared, when the Apostles turned themselves to the
Gentiles. So that St. James reasons upon it, as a certain fact. _Do not
rich men oppress you, and draw you before the Judgment seats? Do they not
blaspheme that worthy name by which ye are called[179]?_ And St. Paul to
the same purpose, when appeals to the Gentile Christians themselves—_Ye
see your calling, my brethren, how that not many wise men after the
flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, are called_[180].

And, if we extend our inquiries beyond the Apostolic age, we still find,
that, while councils and synagogues, priests and philosophers, governors
and kings, were confederated against the rising church, the _poor_,
the _weak_, the _ignorant_, the _ignoble_, very readily, and in great
numbers, pressed into it.

Considering then this fairness of mind, which distinguished the _poor_,
together with their multiplied necessities, we shall cease to think it
strange that our blessed Lord should first and principally _preach the
Gospel to them_; and that this circumstance should be predicted of him,
and urged by himself, as characteristic of his person and office. For
what could distinguish the divine Messiah more, than this condescension
to those who most needed, and best deserved, his instruction? Who can
wonder that, _when he saw the multitudes_, thus circumstanced, _he was
moved with compassion on them, because they fainted_[181], under the
merciless vexations of their superiors, _and were scattered abroad_[182],
and left exposed to every injury, _as sheep having no shepherd_[183]?
Could any splendor of miracles more illustrate his character, than
that affectionate address to the poor people, groaning under all their
burthens, of which the pride of wealth and wisdom was not the least,
_Come unto me, ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you
rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lonely in
heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls_[184]?

Our Lord’s whole ministry seems uniformly directed to this end of beating
down the insolence of all worldly distinctions, which had too much
vilified and degraded human nature. For this purpose, he condescended,
himself, to be born in the lowest rank of life, to be brought up in what
the world calls a mean and mechanic profession, to converse chiefly with
the poor and indigent, to take for his companions and disciples the most
sordid of the people, and to propagate his religion by the weakest and
most unpromising instruments: _Chusing_, as St. Paul divinely expresses
it, _the foolish things of the world, to confound the wise; the weak
things of the world, to confound the things that are mighty; And the base
things of the world, and things which are despised, yea, and things which
are not, to bring to nought things that are: That no flesh should glory
in his presence_[185].

In a word, he seems studiously to have bent his whole endeavours, to
vindicate the honour of depressed humanity; to support its weakness, to
countenance its wants, to ennoble its misery, and to dignify its disgrace.

Nor let any one presume to insinuate, that this conduct of our blessed
Saviour was directed to other ends; As if he sought, by this application
to the people, to engage _them_ in the support of his new kingdom,
and then, by their noise and numbers, to force the rest into it. The
suspicion is utterly without grounds. Jesus made no factious use of the
popularity he acquired by his condescension; he discountenanced and
repressed every effort of that nature; and, though his care was chiefly
employed about the _poor_, it was not confined to them: He _preached_
indiscriminately to all, he did his miracles before all, in public, in
open day-light, in the presence of the greatest persons, and in places
of the greatest resort; in short, his doctrines and his credentials
were equally offered to the examination of men of all ranks and all
denominations, of the doctors and rulers of the Jewish people, as well as
of the people themselves. This, an impostor most assuredly would not have
done.

We have now, then, a reasonable account given us, why it pleased God that
the Saviour of the world should be known by this mark, among others, of
_his preaching the Gospel to the poor_. The GOODNESS of his character was
signally illustrated, by this gracious conduct. I have only to observe,
further, that his WISDOM was equally displayed by it: And both together
must needs furnish a presumptive argument of his divine mission.

Had the ablest speculative philosopher been consulted about the proper
method of reforming the world, though with the attending evidence and
authority of miracles, I suppose his plan for effecting this design would
have been wholly different from that, which was taken. He would have
counselled an application, not to the _poor_ chiefly, if to them at all,
but to the _rich_, the _great_, and the _wise_. The minister of this
important charge would have been directed to shew himself in the most
conspicuous scene, to make the capital of the world, imperial Rome, the
head-quarters of his mission, to perform his miracles before the Roman
senate, and to proselyte, first of all, the wise and learned of that
empire; As conceiving this to be the readiest way to the establishment of
his new Religion, and trusting to the power of these great instruments,
as to some irresistible vortex, to draw the people with them, into the
general profession of it.

This, or something like this, we may imagine, would have been the
language of human wisdom. But what would have been the event of these
profound and politic counsels? Most probably, the design would not have
taken effect. The interests, the prejudices, the pride, and the very
philosophy of the world would have revolted against it. The plainest
miracles would have been shuffled over, as the sleights of magick: and
the divinest truths, been derided as unlearned and ignorant conceits.

But what if the event had been otherwise? What, if the new religion
had prospered and acquired an establishment by these mighty means?
Posterity would then have turned the argument in another manner. They
would have accounted, and with some reason, for this revolution in the
sentiments of mankind, not from the will of Heaven, but the power and
policy of men. They would have sought the origin of this triumphant
religion in the operation of human causes, and not in the controlling
influence of divine. The new system might be preferred to many others
that have prevailed in the world, but would be thought to have made its
way by the same means. It would still be considered, as a mere human
engine, calculated to serve the ends of society, and not to interest the
conscience, as proceeding from the sole authority of God. And what could
have been opposed to these suggestions? The cause is plainly adequate to
the effect: And, thus, the glory of God would have been obscured; and the
dispensation itself, exposed to contempt.

See then _the riches both of the goodness and wisdom of God_: Of his
GOODNESS, in caring for the poor; and of his WISDOM, in providing by his
use of so unlikely means, _that our faith should not stand in the wisdom
of man, but in the power of God_.

To conclude; _the ways of God are_, very frequently, _not our ways_[186];
Yet, when the difference is most striking, a diligent inquiry will
sometimes convince us (as in the case before us) that they may be
justified even to our apprehensions: The use of which conviction should
be, to satisfy us, in other cases, that his ways are always adorable,
even when to US, in this state of weakness and blindness, they are _past
finding out_.



SERMON XLII.

PREACHED JANUARY 24, 1773.

JOHN xiv. 2.

_In my Father’s house are many mansions_: IF IT WERE NOT SO, I WOULD HAVE
TOLD YOU.


These words are not a little remarkable; and, if carefully considered,
will be found to make very much for the honour of the Christian religion,
and its divine author.

Our blessed Lord was now upon the point of leaving the world. He foresaw,
distinctly, his own approaching death, and the discouragements of all
sorts, which, of course, would oppress his disciples, when he should be
taken from them. He therefore applies himself, in this farewell address,
to animate their courage by the assurance of future glory. “_Let not
your heart be troubled_, says he, at the worst that may befall you: _Ye
believe in_ the general providence of _God_: _believe also in me_, in the
care which I shall especially take to see an ample recompence made you
for all your sufferings on my account. _For in my Father’s house are many
mansions_; wherein each of you, according to his deserts, shall for ever
enjoy an inviolable repose and felicity. And on this promise ye may rely
with the most entire confidence: for know this, That, _if it were not
so_, no consideration should have induced me to fill your minds with vain
hopes; on the other hand, _I would have told you_ the plain truth, how
unwelcome soever it might be to you.”

We have here, then, from the mouth of Christ himself, an express
disavowal of RELIGIOUS FRAUD OR IMPOSTURE; and that, in a point where
wise men have sometimes thought themselves at liberty, nay under an
obligation, to _lye_ for the public service, and in a conjuncture, too,
when, if ever, it might seem allowable for a good man to deceive his
friends on a mere principle of compassion.

For what so beneficial, it may be said, to mankind, at large, as
the persuasion of a future state, in which their happiness shall be
proportioned to their virtue? And who, that has any bowels, would carry
his attachment to strict truth so far, as not to suffer an unhappy friend
to _die_, at least, in this persuasion, when the hopes of life, or the
comforts of it, had entirely forsaken him?

These questions are plausible: but our Lord, who was _the Truth_, as well
as _the Life_, governed himself by other maxims. He knew that the real
interests of mankind are only, or are best promoted by veracity; that
every degree of fraud, though it may have some immediate, or temporary
good effects, is, in the order of things, productive of much mischief; is
injurious to our moral and reasonable nature, which was made for truth,
and finds its proper satisfaction in it; is liable to detection, to
suspicion, at least; and if it be but the latter (entertained on probable
grounds, and become, as it soon will be, universal), not only the chief
benefits of the imposture are, thenceforth, lost, but truth itself,
in other cases, is taken for imposture: of which there is not a more
deplorable instance, than in the subject we are now considering: for,
it being well known that men have been forward to deceive each other
in matters of religion, and particularly in what concerns the hope or
fear of a future state, hence, an incurable suspicion has sunk deep into
the minds of too many, concerning Christianity itself; as if, in this
momentous doctrine of life and immortality, it amused us only, as many
other schemes of religion have done, with a plausible and politic fiction.

But our blessed Lord, as I said, had other views of this matter, and
governed himself by other principles. He knew, who it was that had been
_a liar_, and therefore _a man-slayer from the beginning_[187]; and
left it to him, the adversary of God and man, to signalize himself by
_murderous_ deceit and imposture. For himself, he tells his disciples,
whom of all men, it concerned him most to possess with this salutary
belief of a future state; He tells them, I say, that, instead of deluding
them with a groundless hope, he would certainly, and even at this season,
which made that hope so infinitely precious, declare to them the simple
truth, and on no account permit them to continue under a false (if it had
been false), though flattering persuasion.

Shall we believe this great teacher, on his own word? Or, will you
suspect, that even this uncommon declaration, uncommon in the founder of
a new religion, was only a refinement of art and policy; and that Jesus
hoped, by this shew of frankness, to propagate his favourite imposture
the more successfully in the world?

I know, and have just now observed, to what lengths our ingenious
suspicions on this subject are apt to run. But consider the
circumstances; and then judge for yourselves, whether the suspicion, in
this case, be well founded.

_In my Father’s house_, says he, _are many mansions: if it were not so, I
would have told you_. And can we doubt his sincerity in this declaration,
when he was now to make an experiment of its truth; and the deception, if
it were one, was first to operate on himself, before it affected others?
A speculative reasoner, or a politic legislator, when planning his system
at his ease, and in no danger of being called upon to make trial of
his own principles, might discourse with much complacency, though with
little inward belief, of a happy futurity. But for one, who was just
stepping into that world, of which he announced such wonders, who was
going, by one confident venture, to put his doctrine to the proof, and
to expire in torments from a view to his own promises; for one, I say,
thus circumstanced, knowingly to delude himself and others, is not in
human nature, unless perverted by such a degree of weakness or vanity,
as no man will think chargeable on the character of Jesus. Socrates, the
ablest and the honestest of the ancient sages, had, on moral principles,
reasoned himself into a favourable opinion of the soul’s immortality.
He had often expressed this opinion to his friends, in terms of some
force; and there were times in which he seemed very little, if at all,
to question the truth of it. Yet, when he came to die, and had taken the
fatal cup into his hand, his resolution gives way, he hesitates, and
leaves his followers, after first of all confessing himself to be left,
in the utmost uncertainty on this momentous topic: a conduct surely very
natural, and becoming a wise man, who had not, and who knew he had not,
the most convincing evidence of its reality!

But there are further reasons to think that Jesus was sincere in making
this declaration to his disciples, suggested to us by _the terms of his
religion_, and by _his own personal character_.

Those _terms_ were, that whoever believed in the name of Christ, that
is, became a convert to his religion, was thenceforth to encounter all
sorts of difficulties, and dangers, and distresses, nay, death itself,
and that, in every dreadful shape, which the malice of the world could
invent, rather than to retract or forego his open profession of it. This,
the disciples had been often told by their Master: who, whether as a
prophet, or a wise man (it matters not which, to our present purpose) had
distinctly foreseen, and had set before them in all its force, what they
were to expect and to suffer for his sake, and the sake of the Gospel.
Other teachers of religion and philosophy required no such terms of their
followers, or had reason to apprehend no such consequences from the
propagation of their opinions. They might therefore keep their doubts to
themselves, if they had any, of a future state: In Jesus, such reserve,
or dissimulation, would have been the most unfeeling cruelty.

And against whom is this suspicion indulged? Why against HIM (and that
was the other consideration I mentioned) whose personal character was
that of goodness and philanthropy itself. This character shines out
in every page of the Gospel. We see it in all he said and did to his
disciples, whom he calls his _friends_, and treats as such on all
occasions: witness his condescension to their infirmities, his concern
for their safety (while it might consist with their duty), his compassion
for their sufferings, his friendliness of temper, we may even say, his
affection for their persons and virtues. In short, the sympathetic
tenderness of his nature was evidenced in all ways, in which it could
possibly shew itself, even by that of tears.

Now, put these two things together, his _deep concern for the interests
of his disciples_, on the one hand, and _the severe injunctions he gave
them_, on the other, and see if there be any possibility of mistrusting
our Lord’s good faith in that memorable declaration—_In my Father’s house
there are many mansions_: IF IT WERE NOT SO, I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU.

His language on the subject, so interesting to them, had, indeed,
been always the same. _Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and
persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely,
for my sake. Rejoyce, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward
in heaven[188]._ This he said in the beginning of his ministry: This he
now repeats in the close of it; but with that remarkable assurance (now
for the first time given, and, from the _time_ of giving it, not more
important, than it is credible) _if it were not so_, if your _reward in
heaven_ were not such, and so great, as I have ever affirmed it to be, in
recompence of all your sufferings, past and to come, for my sake, I would
not have left you under an error in what so infinitely concerns You—_I
would_ expressly _have told you of it_.

THE USE we have to make of these reflections is, to see what our _Lord’s
character_ truly was; and what our reasonable _hopes and expectations_
from him are.

I. But for this declaration, it might be thought, that Jesus, pushed
on by an eager ambition of being the founder of a sect, had, for his
_own_ ends, preached up this alluring doctrine of a future state; or,
that, heated by a moral enthusiasm, he had overlooked the mischiefs of
his scheme, in contemplation of the _public_ ends, it might serve, as
applied to the important interests of virtue and religion. Surmises
of this sort might have sprung up in the minds of men, not prejudiced
against the author of our faith; and would certainly have been cherished
and malignantly insisted upon by his enemies. But it now appears, that
he disclaimed all such views and purposes: that he was cool enough
to see the iniquity of all religious deception; and just enough to
acknowledge the cruelty of it, in the present instance. If he had not
certainly known the truth of his doctrine, he would have recalled and
disowned it. He felt, in his own case, what it was to encounter death
for conscience-sake: and he knew what deaths others were to encounter
on the like grounds of persuasion. But _for the joy that was set before
him_, how could the shame and agony of that cross be endured? And, if
there be no recompence of reward, should he expose to such, or to equal
sufferings, his honest, unsuspecting, affectionate followers? The instant
moment[189], the imposed duty[190], the foreseen event[191], the upright
mind[192], the feeling heart[193], all conspire to satisfy us, that Jesus
was not, could not, be the fraudulent, that is, the insensible, the
unrelenting, the merciless inventor or publisher of a politic fable, but
a teacher of truth and righteousness sent from God.

Thus much for our Lord’s _general character_; which we shall do well to
keep in mind, when we meditate on any part of his instructions to us;
but more especially, when, for our singular comfort, we attend to his
great doctrine of a BLESSED IMMORTALITY. Our divine Master has in the
clearest and fullest terms, announced this doctrine to us; and, what is
more, he has anxiously removed the only possible doubt, which we could
have of its truth, by disclaiming the politic use, which too many others
had presumed to make of it.

II. It follows, that we may rely, with confidence, on this invaluable
promise of a future life; the only source of peace and comfort to the
mind, without which the disordered scene of this life is inexplicable to
the wisest men, and scarce supportable by the happiest; we may, I say,
rely with safety on this _glorious hope_[194] of immortality, unless
we will suppose that Jesus meant to deceive us even then, when he most
deliberately and solemnly pledged himself to us for his veracity: a
supposition, which is, in truth, as foolish as it is indecent.

Assured therefore, as we are, that our Saviour both taught this doctrine,
and taught it without the least mixture of guile or dissimulation, let us
hold fast our expectation of it to the end; and in all the troubles of
this life, whether endured for conscience-sake or not, provided only they
be such as consist _with_ a good conscience, let us reckon with certainty
on our title to one of those eternal _mansions_, of which there are so
_many in the house of our heavenly Father_; and that, for the sake and
through the merits of our LORD JESUS CHRIST; the author of our salvation,
as well as the proclaimer of it: our merciful Redeemer, at once, and
infallible Instructor; to whom be all honour, praise, and thanksgiving,
now and for ever. Amen.



SERMON XLIII.

PREACHED MAY 5, 1776.

JOHN xvi. 12, 13.

_I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.
Howbeit, when he, the Spirit of truth, shall come, he will guide you
into_ ALL TRUTH: _for he shall not speak of himself; but whatsoever he
shall hear, that shall he speak: and_ HE WILL SHEW YOU THINGS TO COME.


There is scarce a page in the Gospels, which to an attentive reader may
not afford a striking proof of their divine original.

We have an instance in the words before us: in which, Jesus, now about to
leave the world, tells the disciples, that he had _many things to say
unto them_, which were not proper for their ear at this time, but that
these, and all other necessary truths should hereafter be imparted to
them by a _divine spirit_, to be sent from heaven to be their guide and
instructor: that, from _him_, they should learn what, for the present,
he forbore to communicate to them, of his views and purposes in the
religion, they were to teach mankind; nay, and that this divine _Spirit
of truth would shew them things to come_.

Now Jesus, I suppose, whatever else may be thought of him, will be
readily acknowledged to have been, at least, a discreet and wise man:
for without a very high degree of discretion and wisdom, it was plainly
impossible for him to do the great things, he did; I mean, to be so
successful, as he was, in imposing a new faith and religion on mankind.
They, who take Christianity for an imposture, must confess, at least,
that it was an imposture, artfully contrived, and ably conducted:
otherwise, the effects of it could never have been, what we see they are.

But would any man, acting on the principles of human wisdom, only, have
given an assurance of this kind (an assurance, too, that seemed not
_necessary_) to those whom he thought fit to entrust with the care of
his imposture, when yet he must certainly know that he could not make
good to them what he had promised; and when they, to whom such assurance
was given, might easily, and, as he must foresee from his knowledge of
human nature, would certainly abuse it, to selfish ends of their own, not
consistent with his, and to the hurt of that very cause, which he wanted
to promote?

Say, that he had, only, told them—_this divine spirit shall instruct you
in many things concerning my religion, which I have not, myself, thought
fit to reveal to you_—would not this general promise have opened a door
to all sorts of fraud, or extravagance? And could he reasonably expect
that any well-concerted scheme of religion, such as was likely to make
its fortune in the world, would be delivered and established by men,
who were commissioned to enlarge his system, at pleasure, and as their
various passions, or fancies, might suggest? And all this, on the same
authority with that which he had claimed to himself?

Suppose, they were _honest_, or, _faithful to him_, that is, disposed to
teach nothing but what should agree to their Master’s doctrine, yet who
could answer for their skill or judgment? And, if they were _dishonest_,
or _unfaithful_, what ruin must not this license of building on his
doctrine, have brought on the structure, he had already raised?

When Mark Antony was allowed to _forge_ a will for Cæsar, we know the use
he made of that liberty. But had he been a better man, than he was, and
inclined to give out that only for Cæsar’s will, which might probably
seem to be so, yet his capacity to make a will for Cæsar, in all respects
uniform, and consistent with that great man’s known views and character,
might well be called in question, notwithstanding the whole contrivance
depended on himself; much more, if the arduous task had been entrusted to
_eleven_ persons, besides, of different abilities and dispositions.

Still, the case is more desperate, than we have hitherto supposed.
Besides a liberty of adding what new consistent doctrines, they pleased,
to the doctrine of Jesus, the disciples have a greater and more dangerous
power committed to them, a power of _prophesying_, or foretelling _things
to come_.

To see how the case stands on this last supposition, consider, 1. _What
is implied in this_ PROPHETIC _power_. 2. _What abuses are likely to
be made of such an assumed power by_ ANY _men whatsoever_. And, 3.
_What peculiar abuses of it were to be expected from_ SUCH _men, as the
disciples_. Consider, I say, these three particulars, and then, upon the
whole, determine for yourselves, whether any man of ordinary prudence
would have commissioned his followers to exercise such a power; or, if he
had done so, and had been an impostor, whether the event could possibly
have been what it clearly was.

1. The _prophetic power_, implies an ability of looking into the future
history of mankind; of foreseeing what revolutions shall happen in states
and kingdoms; what shall be the issue of depending wars, or counsels:
what the prosperous, or adverse fortune shall be of public, or private
persons; of those, who have any authority over us, or connexion with us;
of individuals, or collective bodies of men; of friends, or enemies.
Whoever has this extraordinary power committed to him, or who thinks he
has, has the characters of all men at his mercy; can blast the reputation
of, the wisest and best men, by a charge of follies and crimes, _not
yet committed_; or can raise the credit of the worst and weakest, by
covering their _future_ life with wisdom and honour. He can intimidate
the greatest men by announcing their disgrace and ruin; or exalt the
meanest by bringing out to view their successes and triumphs. In a word,
he can speak peace or war, fame or infamy, life or death, to any state
or person, against whom he thinks fit to level this powerful engine of
inspiration.

And as all men, so all _times_, are equally within his reach. He can
pursue the objects of his love or hate through ages to come; and can
excite hopes and fears in the breasts of those, who are not to appear on
the stage of the world, till many centuries after he has left it, and
when himself has nothing to apprehend, let his predictions take what turn
they will, from the shame of detection.

Such then being the nature of this mighty privilege to foretell _things
to come_, you cannot but see

2. In the next place, _how liable this power is to be abused by_ ANY _men
whatsoever, who have a pretence to assume it_.

Make, if you will, the most favourable supposition, that these pretended
prophets are _able and learned_: But then, what endless schemes of fraud,
of policy, of imposture, may ye not expect from the dextrous management
of this faculty! Revolve with yourselves the history of ancient
divination, or modern prophecy, when lodged in the hands of artful and
designing men; and see, what portentous abuses must needs arise from this
commission, and yet what certain disgrace and confusion to the memory of
those, to whom it is given.

What blessings will not men, entrusted with this convenient foresight
of futurity, lavish on their own friends, or party! And what curses,
what terrors, equally belied in the event, will they not scatter over
the persons or affairs of rivals and enemies, for the gratification of a
present passion or interest!

Suppose them cool enough to distrust the reality of their inspiration,
yet the temptation, to make the pretence of it subservient to their
own views, would be almost irresistible: Or suppose them, on the other
hand, to prophesy with good faith, this genuine enthusiasm might enable
them to act their part more naturally indeed, but, in the end, not more
successfully.

Had then the Apostles been, each of them, as provident and wise, as
their Master himself, and as much persuaded of their own inspiration, as
he could desire them to be, they would not, we may be sure, have been
encouraged by him, if an impostor only, to think themselves possessed of
a prophetic power, when it must have turned to the ruin of his cause,
on every supposition; I mean, equally on the supposition of its being
regarded as a real or pretended, power; that is, whether the Apostles
were guided by the views of a dishonest policy themselves, or were the
honest dupes of their Master’s policy. But there is

3. Still more to be said on the improbability of a wise man’s giving such
an assurance to men _qualified and circumstanced_, as the Apostles were,
in other words, _to men of their_ PECULIAR _character and situation_.

1. The _character_ of the Apostles, was that of plain, uneducated,
illiterate men; men, totally unacquainted with the world, and with
those arts, which are necessary to conduct a great design with ability
and success; men, of good sense, indeed, and of honest minds, but,
from their singular simplicity, only qualified to report what they had
seen or heared, and by no means provident or skillful enough to round
and complete a scheme, but half-disclosed by its author, and that half
delivered incidentally and by parcels to them, and ill understood.

Yet to these men, Jesus declares, that much was wanting to the integrity
of that religious system, which they were appointed to teach: and that
all defects in it were to be supplied not by himself, but by a _divine
spirit_, who should hereafter descend upon them, and LEAD THEM INTO ALL
THE TRUTH[195]; nay, who should not only instruct them in such parts of
his religion, as he had imperfectly, not at all, explained, but should,
further, open to their view I know not what scenes of futurity, and SHEW
THEM THINGS TO COME.

These magnificent promises, you see, were likely to make a deep
impression on the rude minds of the disciples; half-astonished, we
may suppose, at the idea of such superior privileges, and more than
half-intoxicated with the conceit of that pre-eminence, which those
privileges were to bestow.

Their implicit faith, too in a beloved and revered Master, would incline
them to expect, with assurance, the completion of these promises: And
thus, every principle, whether of simplicity, vanity, or credulity, would
make their presumption violent, and leave it without controul.

2. If we turn, next, to the _situation_ of these men, buoyed up with
such exalted hopes and expectations, we shall find it apt to create a
fanaticism, which, of itself, might drive them, in the absence of their
politic Master, into any excess. These simple, over-weening men were, at
the same time, poor, friendless, despised, insulted, persecuted; exposed
to every injury from the number, power, and malice of their enemies, as
Jesus indeed, had honestly forewarned them; yet stung with the desire of
founding a temporal kingdom (contrary, it must be owned, to his express
declaration) and of rising themselves to the first honours of it. Could
any thing flatter their ambition more, than to be told that they had the
modelling of their own scheme left to themselves, under the cover of a
supernatural direction? Or, could any thing gratify their resentments,
all on fire from ill usage, more effectually, than to be assured that
the fates of their adversaries, all the secrets of futurity, lay open
to their view? How oft has oppression turned faith into fanaticism,
and made prophets of those, whom it only found zealots! And do we think
that secular ambition, concurring with religious zeal, in the like
circumstances, could have any other issue; especially, when the prophetic
impulse was looked for by such zealots, and, on the highest authority,
actually engaged to them? Or can we, who see the probability, the
certainty, of this consequence, conceive so meanly of Jesus, considered
in the view of a wise man only, as to imagine that He should not be aware
of it?

As then it is very unlikely that any politic impostor should make such
a promise, as the text contains, a promise liable to be abused by _any_
sort of men, and most of all by _those_, to whom it was made; so neither
is it conceivable that, if a rash enthusiast had authorized his followers
to rely on such a promise, the issue of it could have been that, which we
certainly know it to have been.

For consider, what were the additions, made to the scheme of Jesus by his
enlightened followers, and what the prophecies delivered by them? Only,
such additions, as served to open and display the scheme of the Gospel,
in a manner that perfectly corresponded with the declared views of its
author, or at least no way contradicted them: And only, such prophecies,
as have either been clearly fulfilled, or not convicted of imposture, to
this day.

Then, again, those additions, were directly contrary to the preconceived
notions and expectations, of those who made them; such, for instance, as
the doctrines concerning _the rejection of the Jews_, _the call of the
Gentiles_, _the abolition of the Mosaic ritual_, and _the spirituality of
Christ’s kingdom_; doctrines, which, in the life-time of their Master,
and till enlightened by the promised Spirit of truth, they had either not
understood, or had rejected as false and incredible; yet doctrines, which
made the principal part of those _truths_, into which they were _led by
the Spirit_.

And as to the prophecies, delivered by them, what less could one expect
from so general, and so flattering a promise, than that they should
be _numerous_, and, at the same time, replete with _presages of good
fortune_ to themselves and their party, and with _terrible denunciations
of wrath_ against their opposers? Yet nothing of all this followed. The
predictions, they gave out, were indeed so many as to shew that the
promise was performed to them; yet, on the whole, but _few_; in truth,
much fewer than can be imagined without a particular inquiry into the
number of them: And of these few, the greater part were employed in
declaring the corruptions, that should hereafter be made of the new
religion, they were teaching, and the disasters that should befall the
teachers of it; and scarce _one_, directed against their present and
personal enemies.

All this is astonishing, and unaccountable an the common principles of
human nature, if left to itself in the management of such a faculty as
that of prophetic inspiration. And, though, on these principles, it was
to be supposed, nay, might certainly have been concluded, that a set of
the craftiest impostors, or of the honestest fanatics, that ever lived,
must, in the end, dishonour themselves by the exercise of such a power,
and defeat their own purpose; yet, to the surprize of all reflecting men,
they have maintained, to this day, their character of veracity, not one
of their prophecies having fallen to the ground; and, what is more, with
so many chances against the success of their cause, they have triumphed
over all opposition, and have established in the world a new religion
with that force of evidence, which, as their Master divinely foretold,
_all their adversaries have not been able to gainsay_.

In a word, the EVENT has been, and is such, as might be expected, if
the divine assistance promised, was actually imparted to them; but
improbable in the highest degree, or rather impossible to have taken
place, if fraud, or enthusiasm, had been concerned, either in giving, or
fulfilling, this promise.

It would be equally an abuse of your patience, and an affront to your
good sense, to enlarge farther on so plain a point. From recollecting,
and laying together, the circumstances, which have been now briefly
touched, and pointed out to you, ye will conclude, That, when Jesus gave
this extraordinary _promise_ of the Spirit to his followers, he certainly
knew, that he should be able to make good his engagements to them: And
that this _spirit_, being of God, would not be at the command of his
followers, to be employed by them, as their passions, or short-sighted
policies, might direct; but would operate in them, according to the good
pleasure and unerring wisdom of HIM, who sent this celestial guide; or,
in the words of the text, _that he should not speak of himself, but
whatsoever he should hear, that_, only, _he should speak_.

No ill effects would, then, proceed from the privilege of being let
into _new truths_, or, of being entrusted with the power of foretelling
_things to come_. And, from the very consideration, that Jesus had
_engaged_ to confer such privileges upon his disciples, who, if not
over-ruled in the use of them, that is, if not truly and immediately
inspired, would, or rather must, have employed them to the discredit and
subversion of his own design; from this single consideration, I say, it
may fairly be concluded, especially when we can now compare the assurance
with the event, That He himself was the person, he assumed to be, that
is, A DIVINE PERSON; and his religion, what we believe it to be, THE WORD
AND WILL OF GOD.



SERMON XLIV.

PREACHED MAY 29, 1774. T. S.

ACTS i. 11.

_Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus,
which is taken up from you, shall so come, in like manner as ye have seen
him go into heaven._


As the entrance of Jesus into the world, so his departure out of it,
was graced, by the ministry of angels. Events, so important as these,
deserved, and, it seems, required, to be so dignified. His birth was,
indeed, obscure and mean; and therefore the attendance of those _flaming
ministers_ might be thought necessary to illustrate and adorn it. But
his ascension into heaven was an event so full of glory, that it needed
not, we may think, any additional lustre to be thrown upon it by this
celestial appearance. For what so likely to raise the ideas and excite
the admiration of those, who were witnesses of this event, as the
fact itself, so sublimely and yet so simply related in these words of
the sacred historian—_while they beheld, he was taken up, and a cloud
received him out of their sight_?

We may presume, then, that the heavenly host were not sent merely to
dignify this transaction, in its own nature so transcendently awful;
but for some further purpose of divine Providence. And we find that
purpose expressed very plainly in the words of the text; which contain an
admonition of great importance, and direct the attention of the disciples
to the true end, for which this scene of wonder was displayed before
them. For _while they looked stedfastly toward heaven, as he went up, two
men stood by them in white apparel; which, also, said, Ye men of Galilee,
why stand ye gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus which is taken up
from you into heaven, shall so come, in like manner as ye have seen him
go into heaven._

The Apostles, we may suppose, were only occupied with the splendor
of the shew; or they were wholly absorbed in the contemplation of
its miraculous nature; or they were speculating, perhaps, on the
circumstances of it. They were asking themselves, as they gazed (at
least, if they had possessed the philosophic spirit of our days, they
might be tempted to ask), how the natural gravity of a human body could
permit its ascent in so light a medium—how a cloud, which is but a sheet
of air, impregnated with vapours, and made visible by reflected light,
could be a fit vehicle of a gross and ponderous substance, and serve
for the conveyance of it into the purer regions of æther, which we call
_heaven_—or, what need indeed there was, that Jesus should be carried up
thither; as if the God, to whom he ascended, were not in every place,
alike; as if there were any such distinction, as high and low, with
regard to him; as if all space were not equally inhabited by an infinite
spirit; and as if his throne were not in the depths beneath, as well
as the heights above, every where, in short, without respect to our
descriptions of place, where himself existed.

From such a state of mind, or from such meditations as these, the Angels
divert the Apostles, and call off they attention to a point, which
deserved it better, and concerned them more nearly. ’Tis, as if they
had said, “Suspend your admiration of this glorious spectacle; suppress
all your fond and useless speculations about the causes of this event,
and learn from us the proper uses of it. Ye have seen your Master thus
visibly carried up from you into heaven; by what means, ye need not know,
and may well forbear to inquire. But this intelligence receive from us
(and it much imports you to be made acquainted with it); this same Jesus,
who is thus gone up from you for a time into heaven, will come again with
the same, or even additional glory, to judge the world in righteousness;
to see what improvements ye have made of all he has done and suffered for
you; and to fix your final doom according to your respective deserts, or
miscarriages. Think well of this instruction, which so naturally results
from all he said while he was with you on earth, and from what has now
passed before your eyes; drop all your other inquiries, and resolve them
into this, above all, deserving your best attention, how ye may prepare
yourselves for that day, when _he shall so come, in like manner as ye
have seen him go into heaven_.”

The weight of this angelic admonition was enough to put all curious
imaginations to flight, and to convince the Apostles then, and all
believers at this day, “That their true wisdom consists in adverting to
the moral and practical uses of their religion, instead of indulging
subtle, anxious, and unprofitable speculations concerning the articles
of it; such especially as are too high, or too arduous for them; such,
as they have no real interest in considering, and have no faculties to
comprehend.”

Permit me then to enforce this conclusion, by applying it to the case of
such persons, and especially of such Christians, as have been, at all
times, but too ready to sacrifice conduct to speculation; to neglect
the ends of religious doctrines, while they busy themselves in nice and
fruitless and (therefore, if for no other reason) pernicious inquiries
into the grounds and reasons of them.

1. In the days of ancient paganism, two points in which religion was
concerned, chiefly engaged the attention of their wise men; “GOD,” and
the “HUMAN SOUL:” interesting topics both; and the more necessary to be
well considered, because those wise men had little or no light on these
subjects, but what their own reason might be able to strike out for them.
And, had they been contented to derive, from the study of God’s works,
_all that may be known of him_, by natural reason, _his eternal power
and Godhead_, and had then glorified him with such a worship, as that
knowledge obviously suggested; or, had they, by adverting to their own
internal constitution, deduced the spirituality of the soul, together
with its free, moral, and accountable nature, and then had built on
these principles, the expectation of a future life, and a conduct in
this, suitable to such expectation; had they proceeded thus far in their
inquiries, and stopped here, who could have blamed, or, rather, who
would not have been ready to applaud, their interesting speculations.
But, when, instead of this reasonable use of their understandings in
religious matters, they were more curious to investigate the essence
of the infinite mind, than to establish just notions of his moral
attributes; and to define the nature of the human soul, than to study its
moral faculties; their metaphysicks became presumptuous and abominable:
they reasoned themselves out of a superintending providence, in this
world, and out of all hope, in a future; they resolved God into fate, or
excluded him from the care of his own creation, and so made the worship
of him, a matter of policy, and not of conscience; while, at the same
time, they dismissed the Soul into air, or into the spirit of the
world, either extinguishing its substance, or stripping it of individual
consciousness; and so, in either way, set aside the concern, which it
might be supposed to have in a future state, to the subversion of all
morality, as well as of religion.

Such was the fruit of pagan ingenuity! The philosophers kept _gazing_
upon God, and the Soul, till they lost all just and useful conceptions
of either: And thus, as St. Paul says, _they became vain in their
imaginations; and their foolish heart was darkened_[196].

If from the Grecian, we turn to the oriental, and what is called,
barbaric philosophy, what portentous dreams do we find about angels and
spirits, or of two opposite principles, contending for mastery in this
sublunary world; ingeniously spun out into I know not what fantastic
conclusions, which annihilate all sober piety, or subvert the plainest
dictates of moral duty? So true is it of all presumptuous inquirers into
the invisible things of God, that, _professing themselves wise, they
become fools_!

But these extravagancies of the heathen world deserve our pity, and may
admit of some excuse. The worst is, that, when Heaven had revealed of
itself what it saw fit, this irreverent humour of searching into the
deep things of God, was not cured, but indeed carried to a greater, if
possible, at least to a more criminal excess; as I shall now shew in a
slight sketch of the mischiefs, which have arisen, from this audacious
treatment even of the divine word.

2. Of the _Jewish_ corruptions I shall say nothing, because they did not
so directly spring from a licence of speculation in the Rabbins: though
their readiness in admitting unauthorized traditions, and in giving way
to evasive glosses on the Law, had something of the same character in it,
and led to the same ill effects.

But when the _Gospel_, that last and best revelation of the divine will,
was vouchsafed to mankind, it might be expected, that the most curious
would keep themselves within the bounds of modesty and respect: that they
would thankfully receive the information imparted to them, would improve
it to its right use, and acquiesce in the want of that light, which it
was not thought proper to give.

But, no; the same ungoverned curiosity, that had wantoned so long in
the schools of pagan philosophy, rioted, with a still more luxuriant
extravagance, in the Christian church: as if that unholy flame had
catched new strength from the fires of the altar; and the revealed
articles of our creed had been only so much fresh fuel to feed and
augment it.

Hence, in the days of the Apostles themselves, we hear much of men that,
_strove about words, to no profit_—of _profane and vain babblings_, that
tended to nothing but _ungodliness_[197], of arrogant reasoners, who
_intruded into those things, which they had not seen, vainly puft up by
their fleshly minds[198], of_ extravagant speculatists, who allegorized
and explained away the fundamental articles of the faith, even the
_resurrection_ itself[199]: which, in the literal sense, was rejected as
a gross doctrine, not suited to the apprehensions of wise men.

Thus the seeds of this evil were early sown, and began to shoot up in
those rank heresies, of which a full harvest presently appeared.

The Gnostic and Manichæan impieties led the way. Others, of as ill
name, followed from all quarters; especially from the sects of pagan
philosophy; which now pressed into the church, and, in their haste,
forgot to leave their quibbles and their metaphysicks behind them. The
evidences of the Gospel had, indeed, extorted their assent: but how ill
prepared they were for the practice of the new religion, sufficiently
appeared, when, instead of submitting themselves to the word of God, they
would needs torture it into a compliance with their own fancies. Every
convert found his own tenets in the doctrine of Jesus: and would be a
Christian only, on the principles of his pagan theology.

Thus the pure and simple faith of the Gospel was adulterated by every
folly, which delirious reason could invent and propagate; till, instead
of _joy and peace in believing_, the destined fruits of Christianity
_through the power of the holy Ghost_[200], all was dissonance and
distraction: contentious pride, and fierce inexorable debate.

These mischiefs continued very long; when Plato, at one time, and
Aristotle, at another, gave the law to the Christian world; and decided
in all questions, or rather confounded all, which the subtlety of human
wit could extract from the plainest articles of the Christian faith.

Even the barbarous ages could not suppress this fatal ingenuity. The
wits of the school-men teemed with fresh chimæras, in the shade of their
cloysters; as the minds of disturbed visionaries are observed to be more
than commonly active and prolific in the dark.

At length Reason grew ashamed of these more than fruitless altercations:
and a few divine men, at the Reformation, seemed resolved to take the
scriptures for their guide, and to shut up all their inquiries in a frank
and full submission to the written word. Still their former bad habits,
imperceptibly almost, stuck close to them; for which they had only
this excuse to make, that the zeal of their opponents forced them into
dispute. Necessity, sharpened their invention; their successes, begot
pride; and persecution, engendered hate. In this way, and by these steps,
it was, that the Protestants grew ingenious and dogmatical. In opposition
to the church of Rome, they would explain doctrines, of which they
had no just ideas; founded on texts of Scripture, which they did not
understand. Presently, as was natural for men in their blind situation,
they quarrelled among themselves; and their presumption, we may be sure,
was not lessened, but increased, by this misadventure. The issue of all
these conflicts was, an inundation of dark and dangerous writings, on
subjects[201], which confound human reason, and in which religion has no
concern.

In process of time, however, these evils were, in part, removed.
Philosophers[202] examined the scriptures with care, and explained them
with reverence: and, what is more, Divines[203] became, in the best sense
of the word, philosophers. Between them, much light was thrown on the
general scheme of revelation. Its utility, its necessity, was shewn: its
sublime views were opened: its evidences were cleared: its doctrines,
vindicated: and its authority, maintained. Reason saw to distinguish
between its own province, and that of faith: It grew severe in exacting
its own rights: and modest in prescribing to those of the revelation
itself.

But while men of superior sense were thus intent on reforming the bad
theology of former times, the rest were too generally involved in it.
They were unwilling to give up their darling habit _of gazing up into
heaven_: that is, of framing, or adopting theories, which had neither
solidity, nor use; and of explaining mysteries, which they could not
understand[204].

Nor was the effect of this folly, merely to disgrace themselves.
Christianity was too frequently seen in the false light, in which
these rash adventurers had placed it: And men of shallow minds, and
libertine principles, were ready enough to take advantage of all
their indiscretions. For on this ground only, or chiefly, the various
structures of modern infidelity stand. The presumptuous positions
of particular men, or churches, are forwardly taken for the genuine
doctrines of Christianity: And those positions, being not unfrequently
either wholly unintelligible, or even contrary to the plainest reason,
the charge of nonsense, or of falshood, is, thus, dexterously transferred
on the Gospel itself. And, though the abuse be gross and palpable, yet,
when dressed out with a shew of argument, or varnished over with a little
popular eloquence, it shall easily pass on ill-inclined, or unwary men.

It is surely time for us to benefit by this sad experience. We, the
teachers of religion, should learn, not to be _wise above what is
written_: And you, who would profit in this school, should not think much
to restrain your curiosity within these bounds, which, not the Scriptures
only, but, right reason prescribes.

For let it not be surmized, that, in deducing this account of the
mischiefs, which have sprung from ill-directed inquiries into religion,
my purpose is in any degree to discountenance the use of reason in such
matters. Christianity, if it be indeed divine, will bear the strictest
examination; and it is the prerogative of our protestant profession to
support itself on the footing of free inquiry. The way of argument is so
far from being hurtful to the cause of revelation, that it is, in truth,
the basis and foundation of it. We dishonour, we affront our holy faith,
if we believe it hath, or can have any other. Only let us take heed,
that Reason do her proper work; and that we do not dream, or fancy, or
presume, when we think we reason.

In the instances, before given, the fault was in concluding without
premises, and in arguing without ideas. When men call this _reasoning_,
they forget the meaning of the term, as well as mistake the extent of
their own faculties. We cannot reason on all subjects, because there are
many subjects which we cannot understand: And by the term, _reasoning_,
is only meant an act of the mind, which draws right conclusions from
intelligible propositions. The nature of the infinite Being, the mode of
his existence, the œconomy of his providence, are inscrutable to us, and
probably to the highest angels. Why then intrude into such things, as no
man hath seen, or can see? All that remains is, to admit no proposition,
which is not clearly revealed; and, for the rest, to admit, on the
authority of the revealer, what must be true, though we cannot, in the
way of reason, perceive that it is so.

The inutility of all researches into divine things, without a strict
adherence to this well-grounded principle, is apparent; the presumption
of them, is ridiculous; but, above all, the mischiefs of them, are
deplorable.

Men bewilder themselves, in inextricable difficulties: they disbelieve,
on incompetent grounds: they give up the Gospel, and, with it, their best
hopes, for the gratification of the idlest vanity: or they mis-spend
their time in exploring articles of faith, instead of attending, to the
obvious end and use of them.

To return to the text, which led us into these reflexions. The disciples
were _looking up into heaven_, when they should have been considering how
to follow him thither. Is not our folly the same, or rather is it not
more inexcusable, when gazing, with our weak reason, on celestial things,
we neglect the ends, for which a glympse of them is afforded to us? For
there is not an article of our creed, which may not make us better, if
not wiser: And obedience, that is, _faith working by love_, whatever some
may think, is of another value in the sight of God, and of higher concern
to man, than all knowledge.



SERMON XLV.

PREACHED JUNE 23, 1776.

St. MATTH. xiii. 55, 56.

_Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary? And his
brethren, James and Joses and Simon and Judas? And his sisters, are not
they all with us? Whence then hath this man all these things? And they
were offended in him._


We have, in these words, a striking picture of ENVY; which makes us
unwilling to see, or to acknowledge, any pre-eminence in those, whom we
have familiarly known and conversed with, and whom we have been long used
to regard as our inferiors, or, at most, but on a level with ourselves.
Our Lord’s neighbours and countrymen, who had been acquainted with him
from his youth, could repeat the names of his whole family, and knew the
ordinary condition, in which they lived, were out of patience to think
that, so descended and so circumstanced, he should be grown at once into
distinction among them, and should be taken notice of for abilities and
powers, which they, none of them, possessed.

This temper of mind, I say, is here very graphically expressed; and it
operated among the Jews with a more than common malignity, shedding its
venom on those, whom not their own industry, but the special favour of
Heaven had raised above their fellows, and had commissioned to go forth
with extraordinary powers (of which they had frequent instances in their
history) for the common benefit of themselves and of mankind. Whence it
acquired even the authority of a proverbial sentence,—that _a prophet
hath no honour in his own country, and in his own house_[205].

But, I mean not to enlarge, at present, on this moral topick. There is
_another_, and very important use to be made of these words, which is,
to let us see, “how very small a matter will serve to overpower the
strongest evidence of our religion, though proposed with all imaginable
advantage to us, when we _hate to be reformed_, or, for any other reason,
have no mind to be convinced of its truth.”

This strange power of _prejudice_ is exemplified in the text, and will
deserve our serious consideration.

Our blessed Lord had now given many proofs of the divine virtue, that
was lodged in him; and was, therefore, moved, not only by the duty of
his office, but, as we may suppose, by that regard which every good man
hears to his country, to make a tender of his mercies to those persons,
especially, among whom he had been brought up. Accordingly, we are
told, that he came to his own city of Nazareth, and _preached in their
Synagogue, insomuch that_ the people of that place _were astonished, and
said, whence hath this man this wisdom_, which appears in his doctrine,
_and these mighty works_, which we have seen him perform? And then,
calling to mind the mean circumstances of his birth and family, before
repeated, they expressed their dissatisfaction, or, as the text says,
_were offended in him_.

But, were those circumstances a reason for rejecting a _doctrine_, which
astonished them with its wisdom; and _works_, which they owned to be
_mighty_, and above the common power of man? Rather, sure, the opposite
conduct was to be expected; and, because they knew certainly, from the
mean extraction and education of him who taught and did these things,
that he had no means of _acquiring_ his abilities (if they were at all to
be acquired) in an ordinary way, they ought, methinks, to have had their
minds impressed with a full assurance, that they were owing, as they were
by himself ascribed, to the power of God.

But, no: rather than admit a conclusion, which hurt their pride, and
crossed their foolish prejudices, they stifle the strongest conviction
of their own minds; and resolve not to receive a prophet, whom they had
long desired and expected, who came to them with all the credentials of
a prophet, and with the offer of what they most wanted, the remission
of their sins, and the inestimable gift of eternal life. And all this,
because the prophet was _the son of a carpenter_, in their own town, and
because his _brethren and sisters_, persons of a mean condition, _were
all with them_.

When we contemplate such a conduct, as this, we are ready to say, that
it sprung from a more than common perverseness of character, and that
the people of Nazareth were more unreasonable and sottish, as the common
proverb made them to be, than the rest of _Israel_[206].

Yet, if we turn our thoughts on the other tribes and cities of that
nation, on the inhabitants of Judæa, and even of Jerusalem, we shall
find, that they reasoned no better than the men of Nazareth had done; and
discovered equal, indeed, much the same prejudices as those, by which our
Lord’s own countrymen had been misled.

For, what else was it to say, as they commonly did, that _no prophet
could come out of Galilee_[207]; that he could not be the Messiah,
because his disciples were illiterate fishermen[208], and not Scribes and
Pharisees; because none of their rulers believed on him[209]; because he
conversed, sometimes, with publicans and sinners[210]; because he did not
observe their minute ceremonies or traditions[211]; because he manifested
his divine power in healing the sick, and casting out devils, and not in
breaking to pieces the Roman empire and restoring the temporal kingdom
of Israel[212]; because—but I need not instance in more particulars:
Universally, the Jews, of all places and denominations, rejected their
Lord and Saviour for reasons, the most absurd and trivial; for reasons,
that came from the heart, and not the head, which shewed they were under
the power of some contemptible prejudice, and would yield to no evidence,
unless that was complied with.

Still, “the Jews, in general, you will say, were unlike other people.
Tell us how the polished Heathens reasoned on the subject of Christ’s
mission; and whether, when the Gospel was addressed to them, they opposed
it on the footing of those senseless prejudices, which you have enough
disgraced.”

Luckily, I have it in my power to accept this challenge; and to shew you,
on the best authority, that those men of enlightened minds and renowned
wisdom were as weak in their sophisms, and as childish in their cavils
against the new religion, as the Jews themselves.

We read in the Acts of the Apostles[213], that St. Paul came to Ephesus,
a rich, learned, idolatrous city of Asia; that he applied himself more
especially to the instruction of its Gentile inhabitants; _disputing
daily, for two years together, in the school of one Tyrannus_, a teacher
of rhetorick, or philosophy, as we may suppose, and a convert to the
faith of Jesus. That his success was great, we may conclude, both from
his long residence, and from _the special miracles_, which he wrought,
among them. Yet, when _the word of God had grown mightily and prevailed,
a certain silver-smith, who made silver shrines_ for the Goddess of the
place, had credit enough with this well instructed city, because its
trade was likely to suffer by the downfall of idolatry, to raise such
an uproar among the people, that the Apostle’s labours were, at once,
overturned by this powerful argument, and he, himself, compelled to leave
them to their old infatuations: which was much such treatment, as Jesus
himself had received from the Gadarenes; who, because he had permitted
the devils, ejected out of one of their people, to enter into a herd
of swine, and to destroy them, would not be saved at this expence, and
required him, but civilly indeed, _to depart out of their coasts_. Now,
was that _craft_, or this _husbandry_, a matter to be put in competition
with the saving of their souls, which they had reason to expect from the
preaching of Paul and Jesus? Or, is it not clear, that a petty interest,
that is, a sordid _prejudice_, prevailed against the most precious hopes,
supported by the fullest evidence?

But these were _prejudices_ of the ignorant vulgar. Let us see, then,
what success St. Paul had in a nobler scene, among wits and sages, men
of refined sense and reason, in the head-quarters of politeness and
civility, in the eye of Greece itself, in one word, Athens[214]. Here,
the great Apostle, who had the charity, and the ability, to _make himself
all things to all men_, encountered their ablest philosophers; reasoning
with them, even before their revered court of Areopagus, on their own
favourite topics of _God, and the Soul_, in a strain of argument, which
was clearly unanswerable; and concluding his weighty apology with _Jesus
and the Resurrection_. But what was the effect of all this truth on the
minds of these liberal heathens? Why the text says—_when they heared of
the resurrection of the dead, some_ (that is, the Epicureans) _mocked_;
and why? because their philosophy admitted no future state: while
_others_ (the Stoics) _said, We will hear thee again of this matter_;
but, for as poor reason, as the other, because their philosophy taught I
know not what of a certain renovation of the world, which, for the credit
of their sect, they were half inclined to confound with the Christian
resurrection. You see, in both parties, the power of prejudice; where
yet the occasion was the most interesting, the hearers the most capable,
the ability or the speaker, independently of his assumed inspiration,
unquestionably great, and where the conclusion, (so carelessly dismissed)
was, after all, a question of FACT, which had no dependance on the
fanciful tenets of either party.

I should weary you and myself, should I carry on this deduction through
the following ages of the Christian church; and shew, as I might easily
do, that the ablest men of science, who opposed Christianity, did it on
grounds no better than those of these Athenian sophists. We see what
these grounds were, in the fragments, that remain to us, of many ancient
unbelievers[215], men, the most acute and learned of their times; while
yet every man of sense, that now reads and considers their objections,
will own, whether he be himself a Christian or not, that they are
altogether weak and frivolous, and have the face not so much of sound,
or even colourable arguments, as of faint and powerless prepossessions
against unwelcome truth.

I shall only instance in _one_ of these prepossessions, which you think
prodigious. The Roman empire, labouring under its own vices, and many
_physical_ evils, which then lay heavy upon it, experienced, in the
fourth century, that reverse of fortune, which, in its turn, the greatest
nations must expect. But by this time Christianity had spread itself
through all the provinces, and was become the religion of the state. In
these circumstances, the Heathens, very generally, not the rabble only,
but the gravest and wisest of the Heathens; ascribed these disasters
to the abolition of idolatry; and thought it an unanswerable argument
against the faith of Jesus, that it did not maintain their empire in
that degree of splendour and prosperity, to which, in the days of pagan
worship, it had happily been raised. And this miserable superstition,
which we now only pity, or, perhaps, smile at, made so deep an impression
on the minds of men, that the greatest of the ancient fathers, and
particularly St. Austin[216], were scarce able, with all their learning
and authority, to bring it into contempt.

Such was the power of _ancient_ prejudice against the Christian religion.
But I hasten to set before you, in few words, what its tyranny has been
in _later_ times.

The accidental and temporary commotions, which reformed religion
produced in our western world, furnished in the minds of many, a notable
_argument_ against the cause of Protestantism, which, when taken up and
improved, as it soon was, by state-policy, had, indeed, a fatal influence
on its success. But, even as to Christianity itself, that day-spring of
knowledge, which broke upon us at the Reformation, and, as they say,
has been brightening from that time to this, could not disperse those
phantoms of prejudice, which are forever haunting the human mind.

Men, who piqued themselves on their sagacity, presently started up,
and said, that, because popery had been found to be an imposture,
Christianity was so too; and because the legendary tales of the
cloysters had been convicted of falshood, that the Scriptures themselves
deserved but little regard. And when afterwards these suspicions gave
way to sober criticism and learned inquiry, _prejudices_ still arose,
in various shapes, against the EVIDENCES, and the DOCTRINES of the
Gospel-Revelation. We were told, that the _prophecies_ proved nothing,
because some of them were too obscure, and others too plain. Could both
these objections come from the oracle, Reason? Or, is it so much as
likely, that either of them did so? when, for any thing it could tell,
both the clearness, and the obscurity might be suitable to the occasion,
and each, be fit, in its place. Then again, there were others bold enough
to deny the existence of _miracles_, not, because many have been forged,
but because none can be true. Was this, too, the voice of Reason? or, is
not St. Paul’s appeal to common sense enough to disgrace this fancy to
the end of the world—_Why should it be thought a thing incredible with
you that_ GOD _should raise the dead_?[217] God, who surely has _power_
to do this, or other miracles, when his _wisdom_ sees fit.

The _contents_ of the Gospel have also been treated, I do not say with as
little respect, but with as little shew of reason and argument, as the
evidences of it.

For instance, it was current, not long ago, that “Christianity was as old
as the Creation;” the meaning of which wise saying was, that Christianity
could not be true, because the _moral_ part of it was such, as nature
taught, and had at all times been able to discover by its own light.
Admit the fact: what follows? That therefore a divine revelation needs
not repeat and could not occasionally enforce the laws of nature. Is
reason, pure unmixed reason, accustomed to trifle at this rate?

But the complaint now is, that nature does not teach the _doctrinal_ part
of the Gospel. And what then? Was it not equally to be expected that what
concerns the essence and counsels and dispensations of God should be a
secret to nature, unassisted by revelation, as that our practical moral
duties should lie open to its view? And, if the force of this question
be not generally felt, there is no doubt, I think, but it will, in a
short time. For, it is to be observed of all these idle cavils, that they
presently vanish one after another; and, when each has had its day, is,
thenceforth, exploded even by unbelievers themselves.

But, ’tis time to come to a conclusion of this matter. The purpose of all
I have said is, only, this, to shew, what weak and idiot prejudices have,
at all times, been taken up against Christianity, and how generally they
have been mistaken by the acutest of its enemies, for reasons of much
weight.

And, if all, who hear me, be led by this experience, to suspect the
infirmity of their own minds; if, having seen the disgraceful issue of so
many fancies, which for a time have passed for shrewd _arguments_, but
have, afterwards, appeared to be nothing more than childish _prejudices_,
they can be brought to mistrust those, that occur to themselves; if, in
a word, they can be induced to question the pertinence and force of what
they too easily consider in the light of objections to Christianity, and
to argue soberly and cautiously at least, if they will needs try their
skill in arguing against it; the end, I have in view, will be answered,
and neither my pains, nor your attention, will be thrown away on this
discourse.



SERMON XLVI.

PREACHED FEBRUARY 4, 1776.

JAMES iv. 7.

—_Resist the Devil, and he will flee from you._


That there are Angels and Spirits, good and bad; that, at the head, of
these last, there is ONE, more considerable and malignant, than the rest,
who in the form, or under the name, of a _Serpent_, was deeply concerned
in the fall of man, and whose _head_, as the prophetic language is, the
Son of man was, one day, to _bruise_; that this evil spirit, though that
prophecy be, in part, completed, has not yet received his death’s wound,
but is still permitted, for ends unsearchable to us, and in ways which
we cannot particularly explain, to have a certain degree of power in this
world, hostile to its virtue and happiness, and sometimes exerted with
too much success; all this is so clear from Scripture, that no believer,
unless he be, first of all, _spoiled by philosophy and vain deceit_, can
possibly entertain a doubt of it.

The subject, indeed, in its full extent, cannot be discussed at this
time, nor conveniently, perhaps, in this place. But it may not be
improper to make some general reflexions upon it; such as may serve to
rectify your APPREHENSIONS of the doctrine itself, which, as I said,
is truly scriptural, and to suggest, at the same time, the MORAL AND
RELIGIOUS USES, we ought to make of it.

1. An opinion prevailed in the East very early, and was probably derived
from some still more ancient tradition of the fall, corrupted, and
misunderstood, that two, equally great and independent beings, a good
and a bad, shared the government of the world between them; that these
beings, of directly opposite characters, carried on a perpetual war with
each other, crossed each other’s designs and operations, and, as either
prevailed, produced the good or evil, the happiness or misery, of this
life.

This opinion was, afterwards, taken up by some, who called themselves
Christians; and was especially applied by those, who loved to
philosophize (as too many did, and, at all times, have been prone to
do) on the secrets of divine Providence, to the solution of that great
question, concerning the _origin of natural and moral evil_.

Now, to this notion some countenance, it is thought, has been given by
the scriptural doctrine of the Devil, who is spoken of, as _the Prince of
this world_[218], as the _Prince of the power of the air_[219], as _the
God of this world_[220], and in other terms of the like sort, denoting as
well the _power_, as malignity, of this evil Being.

But, though these terms are, some of them, very strong, and certainly
imply, not the existence only, but the extensive agency and influence,
of this wicked Spirit, yet there is no pretence or colour for supposing
that any thing like an equality to the God of heaven and earth, or an
independency upon him, was intended to be expressed by them. For it is
manifest, that no writings in the world exalt our ideas of that God so
high, or set forth his supreme irresistible and sovereign dominion in
so strong and decisive terms, as the Jewish and Christian scriptures.
And with regard to the particular evil being under consideration, he
is represented as _trembling_[221] at the very apprehension of the
omnipotent Creator, as sentenced by his justice[222], and reserved
for the execution of it[223]; as exercising a partial, a precarious,
a limited power in this world, working only in the _children of
disobedience_[224], and in them, consequently, no longer than they
continue to deserve that character; and baffled in his attempts, not only
by the Son of God, but by the _resistance_[225], by the _prayers_[226],
by the _faith_[227], of Christians; as a rebel indeed, yet a rebel cast
out[228] and disabled[229], and compelled to be an instrument, like all
other things, in the hands of the Almighty[230].

But nothing shews more clearly, how abhorrent the spirit of Christianity
is from the Manichæan doctrine, than the care that is taken throughout
the Gospel-history to set forth the triumphs of Christ over the kingdom
of Satan, in _casting out devils_; of which the instances are so many,
and so circumstantially described, as if our Lord’s main or sole purpose
had been to expose and explode that great impiety. He not only, himself,
commanded, by a word, the devils to go out of the possessed, who
accordingly obeyed him, and, in departing, deprecated that power[231],
which they knew he had over them; but he, likewise, gave the same
authority to his disciples, who went forth with his commission, and
_returned again with joy, saying, Lord, even the devils are subject unto
us, through thy name_[232]. On which occasion, _he said unto them_, as
exulting in his dominion over the enemy, and in the rapid, instantaneous,
irresistible effect of it, _I beheld Satan, as lightning, fall from
heaven_[233].

Thus much may suffice to shew, that, though the Gospel affirms the
existence of evil spirits, and of one eminently so, yet that it gives
no countenance to the doctrine of the two principles; as if the evil
one were independent of the good, or that Satan could have the madness
to think of rivalling the power of God, and of entering into a direct
formal contest, as it were, with the Almighty. Whatever of this sort has
been said, or insinuated, contradicts the express testimony, indeed,
the whole tenour, of holy scripture, and is nothing but poetry, or
misrepresentation.

2. Still, on the face of that account, which Scripture itself gives, it
must be owned, that the power of Satan is great and even dreadful.

That he was permitted, in our Saviour’s time, to vex, and, in
various ways, torment the BODIES of men, is clear from the number of
_possessions_, we read of in the Gospel; which though some have laboured
to explain away (as they have, indeed, the personality of the Devil
himself) by reducing what is said of his agency to a mere figure of
speech, yet I do not find that their attempts have, hitherto, been, or
are likely to be, successful.

That he was, also, permitted to lay such trains, and contrive such
measures, as had a fatal effect, sometimes, on the FORTUNES of men, not
of those only, who were the immediate instruments of his malice, but of
good and innocent men, who stood at a distance from him, we see by the
sad catastrophe of that council, which _he put into the heart of Judas
to betray his master_[234]; first, in the untimely death of the traitor
himself, and then, by a series of connected events, in the crucifixion
of the holy Jesus; and by several other instances. And, that he still
retains this last power, as formidable as it truly is, must be concluded,
if it be true, as we shall presently see it is, that he insinuates
himself into the minds of bad men, and is concerned in exciting and
promoting their wicked purposes. But, whether he be allowed to tyrannize
over the bodies of men, is more problematical. That, for any thing we
know, he may operate in the way of _possession_, I do not see on what
certain grounds any man can deny: that he does so, I would not affirm,
because the Scripture, our only guide as to what respects the agency
of spirits, is silent in that matter. But the inquiry is of the less
moment, because, since the gift of _discerning_ spirits hath ceased in
the church, we have no means of distinguishing between _possessions_ and
_natural disorders_; and, because, if we had, there is no known cure, or
antidote, for them.

Had this been considered, all the mischiefs which have arisen from
the trade of witchcraft and diabolism, would have been prevented. For
they have proceeded, not from the supposed possibility of possessions,
but from a fraudulent pretence of knowing when they take place, and
from a superstitious belief of certain charms or spells, which may be
applied, with effect, to the removal of them. Whereas, the fact is
not cognizable by us, the symptoms, whether of the natural disorder,
or of the pretærnatural infliction, being equivocal; and Christianity
acknowledges no power in words, or ceremonies, to exorcise evil spirits.
The only exorcism, which is now permitted to Christians, is that of
faith and repentance, that is, of a good life; which every man may, and
should apply, when it is needful, to his own case, and which, in that
application, can surely do no hurt to himself, or others.

And, with this explanation, I leave the matter of _possessions_. As I
have no authority to affirm, that there _are_, now, any such, so neither
may I presume to say, with confidence, that there are _not_ any.

But, then, with regard to the influence of evil spirits at this day upon
the SOULS of men, I shall take leave to be a great deal more peremptory.
For this influence is so constantly supposed in the Gospel; there are
so many admonitions, cautions, advices, relating to it; there are so
many warnings given us by Christ and his Apostles against the snares,
the wiles, the devices, the depths, of Satan, and these, conveyed in the
form of general precepts, plainly calculated for the use of Christians
in all ages; it is so expressly said, in Christ’s own parable of the
sower, that the _tares_, that is, bad men, _are sown by the devil_, and
that this husbandry will be carried on by him to the end of the world;
it is so apparent, that his empire over bad men is exercised in the way
of temptation and seduction, by putting bad purposes into their minds,
and filling their hearts with corrupt imaginations and intentions;
it is, besides, so evident that we are continually in danger of this
temptation, by that clause in the Lord’s prayer, the daily prayer of all
Christians—_deliver us from the evil one_[235]—for such is the proper
sense of these words, which we translate, _deliver us from evil_—All
this, I say, is so manifest to every one who reads the scriptures, that,
if we respect their authority, the question, concerning the reality of
demonic influence upon the minds of men, is clearly determined.

Nay, there are many instances, in history, and common life, of
prodigious, almost unimaginable wickedness, strangely conceived and
executed, which, if they do not prove this doctrine, in the way of
sensible experience, perfectly fall in, and harmonize with it. It seems,
as if the soul of some men were demoniacal, as the bodies of others
have been. Let me appeal to yourselves. Suppose that a person, duly
commissioned for that purpose, had dislodged as many devils from Nero or
Cæsar Borgia, as our Saviour did from the poor unhappy man of Gadara,
would this exorcism have surprized you more in the former case, than
the latter? or would not this miracle have furnished us with a better
account, than we can now give, of the transcendant wickedness, which
_possessed_ the hearts of those monsters?

Indeed, in the simpler ages, our forefathers, who read the scriptures,
and believed what they read, constantly ascribed any crime, with which
they charged another, to _the instigation of the devil_; as you may
see from the language of those forms, which are used, in criminal
prosecutions to this day: and, if those charges be vow considered as
_mere forms_, it was not always so; and a better reason will be required,
than can be presently given, why any Christian should so conceive of
them.

3. But to all this it be said, “that the doctrine, here laid down, as
scriptural, is strange and incredible; that it makes the virtue and
happiness of men depend on others, and not themselves; that it supposes
a power, adverse to the great Creator and Governor, and able, on many
occasions, to prevail against him, which, degrades both his _sovereignty_
and his _wisdom_; and that, above all, it represents weak simple men as
exposed to the practices of great and subtle tempters, which overturn all
our ideas of the divine _justice_ and _goodness_.”

The objection might be expressed in more words, but you see the drift and
force of it. Now, in answer, it would be enough to say, that, let the
difficulties be what they will, the doctrine is scriptural. But then, as
to those difficulties themselves, I must further say, that they are not
peculiar to this doctrine, as revealed in scripture, but bear equally
against the natural doctrine of God’s moral government.

For do we not see that we all of us depend in a great measure, for
the virtue and happiness we possess, on the conduct of others? Can we
look about us, and not perceive an order of beings, I mean, _wicked
men_, opposing themselves to the will of God, traversing his righteous
purposes, and prevailing, for a time at least, against his primary
intentions? Do they not pervert, corrupt, destroy multitudes every day;
and are not the weak and simple permitted to fall into the snares of the
wise and crafty? Do not these things evidently take place in our world,
and is it thought any derogation from the attributes of God that they
should be allowed to do so? Are not men, too oft, a sort of devils to
each other, and can we wonder that vice and misery are much in the power
of such agents? Yes, but _spiritual unseen_ agents!—Does that make any
mighty difference? Is it necessary to suppose that _spirits_, of whatever
rank, are privileged from abusing their free-will, and from being
perverse and wicked, as we see men are? And, what if they are _unseen_?
Have we reason to expect, from the present constitution of things, that
we should suffer only from the practices of known and visible tempters?
As if much of the vice and wretchedness of this life did not come upon
us by surprize, as we may say, and when we think little of the cause, or
the agent! A lye, flies in the dark, and misleads many into errors, and
even crimes. A libel, gets abroad, nobody knows from whom, and yet shall
tempt, perhaps drive, unwary multitudes, into rebellion. How many plots
of wickedness are laid and succeed, when the plotter is out of sight and
not so much as suspected! Nay, a certain cast of mind, or temperament of
body, things, wholly unknown and unthought of by most men, shall, without
great care and circumspection, be fatal to our virtue. Even the air, we
breathe, (which, like the _prince of the power of the air_, is to us
invisible) has a secret, and yet, sometimes, powerful influence on our
passions. And shall we still disbelieve the seduction of an evil spirit,
because he steals insensibly upon us?

But the true answer to all objections of this sort, whether men or devils
be the tempters, is, that neither shall prevail, but by our own fault,
by some carelessness, or wilful corruption of our own hearts, which are
always sufficiently admonished, that the enemy is at hand, when evil
thoughts, however produced, begin to stir in them. Then is the time to
watch, and _resist_: and our resistance, the text tells us, will not
be in vain. And what though legions of spirits lay siege to us! We may
call _more than twelve legions of angels_, even the holy Spirit of God
himself, to our assistance, if we please; for _greater is_ HE THAT IS IN
US, _than he that is in the world_[236]. So _faithful is God_, after all
our impious surmises and distrust of his gracious providence, _who will
not suffer us to be tempted above that we are able_, though Satan himself
be the tempter, _but will with the temptation also_, if we be careful to
do our part, _make a way for us to escape_[237].

4. And this being the case, all objections to the doctrine here
inculcated, fall to the ground; so that I have only to remind you, in two
words, (for the time will not allow many) of the _moral and religious
uses_, we ought to make of it.

I shall but mention ONE, of each sort.

1. In a RELIGIOUS view, the belief of this doctrine is of the utmost
importance: for the whole scheme of Redemption is founded upon it. For
_therefore_ Christ came into the world, and suffered upon the cross,
_that, through death_, as St. Paul says, _he might destroy him, that had
the power of death, that is, the_ DEVIL[238]. And, universally, _for this
purpose_ (I quote the words of St. John) _the Son of God was manifested,
that he might destroy the works of the_ DEVIL[239]. It concerns us,
then, infinitely, to take heed lest, by denying, or questioning, or
explaining away, the existence and agency of the evil spirit, we subvert
the foundation of our faith, detract from the glory of our Saviour’s
passion, and unthankfully _despise the riches of his goodness_ in dying
for us: nay, and lest we blaspheme the Holy Ghost; who was given to
_help our infirmities_[240], to _strengthen us with might in the inner
man_[241], and therefore to save us, from the power of _that spirit,
which worketh in the children of disobedience_[242].

2. In a MORAL view it is, also, of great importance, that we entertain
right notions on this subject.

I know that the _world_ and the _flesh_ are powerful enemies enough, and
that we need not wish to signalize our courage by a contest with any
_other_.

But if there _be_ another, we are concerned to know what our danger is,
and to provide against it. Security is generally fatal; especially when
the strength of the enemy is greater than we take it to be. Therefore,
let us learn from scripture, what that strength is; and let us use all
diligence in _resisting_ (as we have long since engaged to do) not the
_world_ and the _flesh_ only, but also, the DEVIL. This is the advice of
the text—_Resist the_ DEVIL. And then, too, is the advice of the Apostle
Peter—_Be sober, be vigilant; become your adversary, the_ DEVIL, _as a
roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour_[243] (words, by
the way, which put the _personality_ of the tempter out of all question);
_Whom resist_, says he, _stedfast in the_ FAITH; under the protection of
which shield, _we shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of_ THE
WICKED[244].



SERMON XLVII.

PREACHED MARCH 29, 1772.

PROV. xvi. 6.

_By the fear of the Lord, men depart from evil._


All the authority of Solomon’s name and wisdom will, I doubt, be no more
than sufficient to procure respect to this observation; which some may
consider as a _trite and vulgar truth_, scarce deserving their regard;
while others, perhaps, will not so much as allow it to be a truth at
all, but indeed a _vulgar mistake_, arising out of the narrow views of
ignorant or superficial declaimers. It may be slighted by one set of men,
as conveying _no_ information, and by another, as conveying a _wrong_
one.

Let me attempt then to rescue the sacred text from both these
imputations. Permit me to shew you, that the observation, it contains, is
neither so generally received, as to make all further discourse about it
frivolous and unnecessary; nor yet, on the other hand, of so questionable
a nature, as to justify the scorn with which it is sometimes rejected.

I. To those, who are such fastidious hearers of the word, as to disregard
an important truth, because repeatedly inforced upon them, I might reply
that such truths can never be insisted upon too much, that our duty is to
inculcate them, _in season, and out of season_.

But the fact is mistaken. We are so far from nauseating our hearers, with
a too common and superfluous truth, when we remind them perpetually,
that, _by the fear of God, men depart from evil_, that, on the contrary,
very many want to be informed, or at least convinced, of it.

What the text affirms, is, that the _fear of God_, or the RELIGIOUS
PRINCIPLE, is the proper guide of life. But look now into the _world_,
at large: there the acknowledged rule of life, is FASHION. Look into the
_civil or political_ world: there the boasted rule of life, is THE LAW
OF THE MAGISTRATE. Look into the _learned_ world: there too commonly the
only rule of life is each man’s own reason, or what he proudly calls
PHILOSOPHY.

And will it now be said that _the fear of God_, is a principle too stale
and too unquestioned to be discoursed upon and recommended to you from
this place, when we see so large and so considerable a part of the world
actuated by one or other of these different and discordant principles?
But neither

II. Is the truth, though far enough from being generally received, so
slightly grounded as to justify any man in the contempt of it.

It is a truth, taught of God, and revered by all wise men. It has nature,
and reason, and experience on its side; and is only combated by the
folly, the short-sighted policy, or lastly, the pride, of half-thinking
and presumptuous men.

For to give, now, the godless principles, I before mentioned, a short and
separate examination.

1. Tell _the man of the world_, that the religious principle is that by
which alone he ought to govern himself, and you are presently told of the
power and prerogatives of FASHION.

“_The fear of God_, he will say, may be the proper rule of monks and
hermits; but must be qualified, at least, in many respects, by such
as live in the world and mix in the society of it. They who have to
converse with mankind, are to accommodate themselves to their notions
and practices: they are to think with the rest of the world, or at least
they are to act with them: they are to found their moral systems on the
liberal and enlarged basis of approved use or custom. Their observation
of human life must inform them of the ways that men take to conciliate
the good will of their fellows, to prosecute their own advantages in
the world, and to acquire the confidence and esteem of that society, in
which they are stationed. What they find to be the rule of others, must
be a rule to themselves. To do otherwise is not weakness, only: It is,
besides, arrogance, incivility, inhumanity.”

All this is thought plausible by some men; and taken together, it must
be owned, forms a very easy and commodious system: but how consistent
with conscience, with duty, and with common sense, they will do well
to consider. For if _fashion_ only be to regulate our conduct in all
cases, I ask not what becomes of piety, but of humanity itself, I mean of
those offices which we owe to others and to ourselves, and which reason
dictates to us in every situation. Custom, you will say, is practical
reason. But what! To be led blind-fold by the prevailing practice,
whatever it be, what is it but to renounce our intelligent nature, and to
live at hazard, and without reason? Further still: If it be sufficient to
do as we see others _creditably_ do, without examining any farther, we
shall often find ourselves involved, I do not say in the most irrational,
the most inconsistent, but the most horrid practices. Then, killing with
malice and with forethought, if the point of honour prevail, will be no
_murder_: And, adultery, if the law of politeness so ordain, shall hide
its atrocious nature under the mask of _gallantry_: Then shall society
at large become a scene of fraud and rapine; good faith, shall be termed
_simplicity_, and fair dealing, _folly_.

Go now, and say that _the fear of God_ is a needless restraint on free
spirits; and count the advantages which ye have reason to promise to
yourselves, from acknowledging no other guide of life, but _imperious
fashion_!

2. A graver set of men come next, and tell us, “That _fashion_ is indeed
a very uncertain guide of life: But that LAW, the result of the public
wisdom, armed with the public force, is an adequate rule of human action;
that the legislator’s province is to enact such salutary laws, and the
magistrate’s duty, to carry them into execution, as shall be sufficient
to secure the peace and order of society; And that every other rule of
life is at once unnecessary and ineffectual: _unnecessary_, because the
interests of virtue are amply provided for by the wisdom of law; and
_ineffectual_, because no other principle has force enough to exact
obedience: That, in particular, _the fear of God_ is too remote a
consideration to restrain the tumultuous passions of men, which are held
in subjection by nothing but the instant terrors of civil justice; in a
word, that where the law of the state is duly enforced, there is no need
of other restraints; and that, lastly, to lay a stress on _the religious
principle_ is to weaken the operation of law, as it opens a door to
fanaticism and superstition.”

This plea of the politician receives an apparent force from this certain
truth, That law is indeed of indispensable necessity, and that the
general virtue and happiness of a people cannot be maintained without it.
We join him therefore very cordially in this encomium on civil justice;
but must remind him, withal, that neither is the religious principle
superseded by it, nor can civil justice itself maintain its due course,
without the support of the religious principle: That, when the authority
of law has done its best, there will be much for religion to controul
and regulate; _much_, that is not within the reach of law, and without
its jurisdiction: That _the fear of the Lord_ penetrates deeper and
farther, than the sword of the magistrate; and that, even within his own
province, all his policy and all his power will take a very imperfect
effect, without the concurrence of a higher principle; as he himself
is abundantly convinced from the necessity of fortifying his own most
important constitutions, by the religion of an oath; which is nothing
else but an appeal to the fear of God, under a sense of its being a
needful supplement to the fear of the magistrate.

Yet society, they say, is entirely upheld by the authority of law; at
least, the world may go on very well, by virtue of that only. Yes; It
may go on, as we see it does, full of open violence, which all its
terrors cannot restrain; and of secret frauds, for which it cannot so
much as project a remedy: It may go on, indeed, but polluted by vices of
all sorts, which are not the objects of law, and even by crimes, which
are often too strong for it: It may go on indeed, till the religious
principle be quite effaced from the minds of men (if we may have leave
for a moment, to put so desperate, and, thank God, so impossible a case);
but, when that dreadful time comes, society itself, with all its bulwark
of laws, must inevitably be swept away with it.

Universal history bears testimony to this awful truth; there being no
account of any state on the face of the earth, which could ever support
itself in general virtue, or general happiness, by the mere force of its
civil institutions. And how should it be otherwise, when the fear of God
is requisite to enforce the law, as well as to observe it; to supply the
state with faithful magistrates, as well as with obedient subjects?

If then this vital principle of religion, so necessary to the
conservation of all states, cannot be kept free from some mixture of
fanaticism or superstition, we are surely to endure the inconvenience,
as we can, rather than put the interests of society to hazard by
suspending them all on the weak and false supports of an irreligious
policy.

3. Lastly, the PHILOSOPHER’S plea, though specious at first sight, is of
all others the weakest. For _fashion_, if it chance to be on the side of
virtue, will be punctually followed: And the sword of the _magistrate_
can, in part, at least, enforce obedience. But what coercive power is
there in _philosophy_? It may see and determine right: but who, or
what shall compell this supreme directress of life to observe its own
determinations? “The fitness, it may be said, of those determinations
themselves; the very reason of the thing being the proper restraint of
reasonable natures.” Still the question returns, What if I am disposed
to throw off this restraint? I act against conviction, indeed, and am
self-condemned, which to a liberal mind is no small punishment. But
look into the world, and see if that punishment be sufficient to induce
the bulk of mankind, nay the gross body of philosophers themselves, _to
depart from evil_.

And what, after all, is this magnified reason? One man admits no other
rule of life but _abstract truth_, or what he calls _the differences of
things_: Another, will hear of none, but an instinctive _moral sense_:
And a third, entrenches himself within the narrow circle of _private
happiness_. These several systems have been laid down, each in its turn,
as the only proper basis of moral action: But could the patrons of them
be made to agree in any one; or could their several schemes be made, as
perhaps they might, to consist together: still, they could only serve to
acquaint us what the nature of virtue is; they do but slenderly provide
for the practice of it.

Let the philosophers, then, debate this matter among themselves. It is
enough for _us_ to learn of Solomon, _to fear God_: To fear HIM, who is
everywhere and essentially present; who is conscious to all our actions
and all our thoughts; from whose knowledge there is no escape, from whose
justice there is no appeal, and to whose power there is no hope, or
possibility of resistance.

With this principle, an unquestioned principle of reason, if there be
any, deeply rooted in the mind, we have indeed an adequate rule of life;
or, what is better, a controuling motive to put in practice whatever rule
of life we chuse to follow. Moral systems, taken by themselves, are poor
ineffective things; even virtue’s self is but a name, till the religious
principle be infused into her. Then it is, that she lives and acts, and
by her powerful influence inclines the hearts of men _to depart from
evil_.

Nor let any man apprehend that this religious fear will degrade, or
servilize his virtue. To be free from sin, and only the servants of God,
is the truest and noblest liberty.

Dismissing, then, all other rules of life, let us adhere to that, which
Solomon prescribes to us. It had been venerable from any hands, but
comes with an extraordinary grace and propriety from HIM, who delivers
it. So that none of the parties, concerned in this discourse, can excuse
themselves from paying a peculiar deference to his judgment.

1. The MEN OF THE WORLD can have no pretence for declining this
determination. The author of it is no obscure sordid moralist, whose
views of life are confined to a cloyster or a cottage. He addresses them
from the throne of Israel, when it was the pride of the East; and from
the center of a court, which he had made the envy of the surrounding
nations. The followers of fashion will then act but agreeably to their
own principles, if they respect the example of such a court, and the
authority of its sovereign.

2. The POLITICIANS will reflect, that their instructor is himself a great
magistrate, consummate in the arts of government; who yet could find no
secret, but that of _the fear of God_, by which he could reign securely
himself, or promote the real welfare and prosperity of his people. With
what complacency do they sometimes urge a political aphorism, taken from
Aristotle! _But a greater than_ Aristotle _is here_.

3. Lastly, to you, the sages of the world, who are, or account yourselves
PHILOSOPHERS, nothing can be so respectable to you, as the authority of
ONE, whose name is the name itself of wisdom; of ONE, who, like you,
_had given his heart to know wisdom_[245]; who had an understanding, at
least, equal to yours, and an experience of life, far greater. Yet even
HE delivers it, as the result of all his knowledge, _That by the fear of
the Lord men depart from evil_.

It is indeed this principle only, which gives its proper direction and
integrity to every other. It controuls Fashion; supplies the defects
of Law; and enforces the conclusions of Reason. It rectifies all our
systems, and gives sense and solidity to all our speculations.

To conclude, Let us all be wise enough to reverence the plain doctrine of
the text, and to act upon it: The rather, as that doctrine is not only
just and reasonable in itself, but proceeds from one, whom the Spirit of
God had been pleased to inform with celestial wisdom.



SERMON XLVIII.

PREACHED MAY 31, 1772.

1 COR. vi. 12.

_All things are lawful unto me; but all things are not expedient: All
things are lawful for me; but I will not be brought under the power of
any._


It would be taking up too much of your time, and of this discourse,
to explain minutely the occasion of these words, and the connexion
they have with the general argument of this chapter. Let it suffice
to say, that they are introduced as an answer to something which the
Corinthian Christians did, or might alledge for their neglect of the
instructions, given them by the Apostle. We may conceive them to speak
to this effect—“What you enjoin us so strictly to avoid, is not one of
those practices which can be deemed unlawful: it is not, as we conceive,
condemned by the law of nature, certainly, not by the law of that society
to which we belong. Now in matters of this kind, there is no need of
advice or direction: the things being indifferent in themselves, we may
do as we please, and we are disposed, in the present case, to make use of
our Christian liberty.”

To this plea, or suggestion, the Apostle replies in the text: “Admitting,
says he, the truth of what ye alledge for yourselves, it does not follow
that I may not properly and usefully direct your conduct, in the present
case. For suppose that _all things are lawful to me, all things are not
expedient_: And, again, _though all things are lawful to me, I will not
be brought under the power of any_.”

St. Paul, you see, does not stay to consider whether the things forbidden
to the Corinthians, were _lawful_ or not (though possibly they might
mistake in that assumption, as licentious or thoughtless people, we know,
every day do) but, be this as it may, he insists that he had reason
to lay them under some restraint even in _lawful_ things, because the
practice of such things was inexpedient, in many respects; And because,
if all other considerations might be overlooked, it is enough that an
unrestrained indulgence in them begets slavish habits, and would, in the
end, destroy, or very much impair, their moral freedom.

Of the words, thus far opened, I propose to make this use; to dissuade
you from giving a full scope to the pursuit even of innocent pleasures;
and that, from the two considerations, expressed in the text:

I. That such devotion of ourselves to them is, on many other accounts,
hurtful and improper—_all things are not expedient_: And

II. That, in particular, it violates the dignity of human nature, by
taking from us, or weakening to a great degree, that manly authority of
reason, that virtuous self-command, which we should always retain, and
be in a condition to exert, even in indifferent matters—_I will not be
brought under the power of any_.

1. Wealth and prosperity have a natural tendency to alter, that is, in
the language of moralists, to _corrupt_, the public manners. Hence it
is that the old English habits of plainness, industry, and frugality,
are, now, exchanged for those of indulgence, dissipation, and expence.
All the elegant accommodations of life have an unusual stress laid upon
them; and there seems to be a general effort to advance them all to the
last degree of refinement. The superfluous, which we call the fine arts,
excite an universal admiration, and administer, in ten thousand ways,
to a luxurious, which, again, takes the name of a polite, indulgence.
Hence, society, which used to fill only the vacant intervals of business,
is now become the _business_ of life; and yet is found insipid (so
insatiable is the love of dissipation) if it be not, further, quickened
by amusements. These have multiplied upon us so prodigiously, that they
meet us at every turn, and in every shape; nay, are grown so common, that
they would almost lose the name of amusements, if every possible art were
not employed to give a poignancy to them, and if fashion, after all,
more than the pleasure they afford, did not support the credit of them.
As the last resource of the weary disappointed mind, we have found means
to interest our keenest passions in one species of amusement, which is
therefore called _play_, by way of eminence; and is become the favourite
one, because the most violent: just as the hottest cordials succeed to
the free use of strong liquors.

In this state of things (a very alarming one, in all views) nothing
threatens the utter ruin of the little virtue, that is left among us, so
much, as the general persuasion, that such pursuits may be indulged to
any degree, because they are commonly acknowledged to be _lawful_. Here,
then, the distinction of the Apostle comes in very seasonably, and may,
one would hope, be pressed on the lovers of pleasure, with some effect.
We may question, it seems, the _expediency_ of these pursuits, how
indifferent soever they be in their own nature; and a little reflexion
will shew that they are, indeed, _inexpedient_, that is, unprofitable,
unadvisable, improper, in a great variety of respects.

I do not suppose, at present, that the expence of them is ruinous to
those, who devote themselves to these pleasures (for then they would
plainly not be _lawful_ to such persons); but consider, if you can afford
to pay the price of them ever so well, they take up too much of your
time: abundantly too much, if you have any profession to follow, or to
prepare yourselves for, as most men have; but too much, if you have not,
because it might, and should be employed on better things.

Then, of the little time, they leave to yourselves, they disable you, in
some degree, for making the proper use. For they dissipate the attention;
they relax the nerves of industry and application; they spread a languor
over all the faculties, and make the exertion of them, to any valuable
purpose, painful at least, if not impossible. We hear it generally
observed, that there is a scarcity of able men in all the departments
of life. Can it be otherwise, when the vigour of the mind, which should
nourish all great and laudable efforts, which is so requisite to push the
active powers of invention, or recollection, to their full extent, is
wasted on trifles, is checked by frivolous habits, and left to languish
under them?

Or say, that you have force of mind enough to elude this so natural
effect of dissipation, is it nothing that, by giving your countenance
to it, you draw in weaker spirits to make the dangerous experiment?
that you help to propagate the enfeebling passion through all quarters,
till, from this authorized scene of vanity, the Capital, the contagion
spreads (as we see it now does) to the smaller towns, and even to
private houses, in the remotest provinces? that you contribute to make
respectable I know not what frivolous and worthless arts, and, of course,
to multiply the professors of them, to the great discouragement and decay
of useful industry? that you hurt the interests of society, by giving an
air of importance to the veriest trifles, and by diverting on these the
attention, and the passion, that should regularly, and would otherwise,
exert themselves on nobler objects?

I might push these questions still further. For I remember what history
attests, and what wise men have said, on the chapter of _polite arts and
elegant amusements_.

“They tell us, how sad a sign[246] of the times it is, when they grow
into general repute among us; that from incessantly indulged appetites
(let the object of them be what it will) such an impotence of mind may
follow, such a lust of gratification, such an impatience of controuling
a predominant fancy, as shall overleap all the fences of discretion and
virtue. The dæmon of taste, say they, shall be obeyed, in defiance of
every private and public duty, till distress, disgrace, and infamy break
in upon us; till we seek the relief of our wants in fraud and rapine,
involve the public ruin in our own, and, in the end, rush blindfold,
through an extreme of profligacy, to desperation.”

To this effect, and in this tone, have some inveighed against our more
refined and elegant _amusements_. But I return to what are commonly
known by that name: and with respect to these, allow me to say that the
life of man is a serious thing[247]: so serious, that dissolute, I mean,
untempered, continued mirth, or pleasure, is not of a piece with it[248].
Our virtue, our hopes, nay, our present happiness depends on keeping the
mind in a firm and steady frame. Whatever encroaches on this manliness of
temper, is pernicious, and unchristian.

I will indulge the extreme candour to suppose, that, in a constant round
of _lawful_ amusements, you do not forget, or intermit your moral and
religious duties. But with what spirit are they performed? With disgust,
I doubt; but certainly, with indifference. Nor is this the worst.
Temptations are to be expected in this life: and in what condition are
we to meet them? Nay, we expose ourselves to needless temptation, even
in the midst of these _lawful_ pleasures; and we bring no power with us,
hardly the inclination, to withstand it. The present scene distracts
the mind, and fascinates the senses. And, in this delirium of the whole
man, without God in his thought, or heaven in his eye, what wonder if he
become the sport, and, almost before he is aware, the victim of every
passion!

Still he is not happy in this feverish state: at most, he but forgets
himself, for a moment: and the intervals of his amusement, which, in the
nature of things, must be many and long, are filled with disgust and
languor. Nay, the very amusement wears out by frequent repetition. And
then such a sickliness of mind succeeds, and such a weariness of living
on in a too much used and exhausted world, as is insupportable and fatal
to him[249].

You see then there are many good reasons, which shew the inexpediency of
prosecuting even _lawful_ pleasures with an unrestrained passion. But,
if all others were away, there is ONE consideration still behind, and of
so much weight, that St. Paul scruples not to make a distinct argument
of it, and to press it on the Corinthian Christians, as fully decisive
of the point in question—_All things are lawful for me; but_ I WILL NOT
BE BROUGHT UNDER THE POWER OF ANY—And to unfold this argument is what I
proposed to myself

2. _Under the second head of this discourse._

It should be the ambition of every man to preserve the independency of
his own mind on all his natural or acquired inclinations. The dignity
of his character depends on this supremacy: and his virtue is no longer
secure, than while he retains the power, on all occasions, to exert it.

1. The stoical wise man was exposed to much ridicule by taking to himself
the name and office of a king. The pretensions were high, no doubt, and
the language, something arrogant and ostentatious. But, let the terms, we
employ, be what they will, all philosophy, that deserves the name, must
agree in this, That to have the command of himself, is the duty, and
chief distinction of a wise man[250]. There is, then, a consistency and
harmony in his whole conduct. We naturally respect those who give this
proof of respecting themselves; and we place an entire confidence in the
vigour and uniformity of their character.

Again: though the virtue of self-denial shine out to most advantage in
the conquest of ardent passions and violent temptations, its use is
not inconsiderable in curbing all the lighter fancies. The reason is,
that custom prevails insensibly, and reaches farther than we, at first,
intended. By humouring the mind in trifles, we teach it to presume on its
own importunity, in greater matters: and it will be found a convenient
rule in the management of our passions, as of our children, to refuse a
compliance with them, not merely when they ask improper things, but when
they ask any thing with impatience.

Even our curiosity, an innocent and useful passion, should be kept
within bounds, and not indulged, as we see it is, on every occasion that
presents itself to us.

The continence of Scipio has been much and justly applauded. But he
went a step too far, in seeing his captive. He triumphed, indeed, over
the stronger temptation, but he was not enough on his guard against the
weaker: by complying too easily with a frivolous curiosity, he risked the
honour of that virtue, which a pagan historian finds so divine in ONE,
who was _et juvenis, et cœlebs, et victor_[251].

To apply these reflexions to the case before us. It may seem to be
a matter of great indifference, whether we indulge an inclination
for _lawful_ amusements, or not. But the dignity of our character is
concerned in keeping a strict hand over our inclinations of every sort:
and, if it were only for an exercise of self-government, it would be
worth the while to moderate, that is, frequently to suspend, the use of
a favourite, though innocent gratification. To be enslaved by vicious
habits, is the ignominy of a little mind: to be superior to all, is the
glory of a great one.

2. But, in truth, there is no security in any case, if we let go this
_habit_ of self-government. One compliance inevitably brings on another;
and, though we set out with the design of stopping at a certain point, we
shall almost fatally be carried much farther. We meant to acquiesce in
this, confessedly harmless, indulgence: constant use makes it insipid;
and then we venture on one of a suspicious character. Being now on the
confines of vice, we are easily pushed into that quarter; with some
doubt and hesitation, at first; but scruples give way, as the habit
strengthens, and all vices being connected with each other, especially
all of one sort, we, by degrees, make the trial of all: and thus, from
an innocent fancy, or inclination, indulged too freely, at setting out,
we slip insensibly, and beside our purpose, into manifest, perhaps
universal, dissolution.

So salutary, so divine is the resolution of the Apostle! _All things are
lawful for me: but I will not be brought under the power of any._

To interdict amusements, altogether, to the vivacity of youth, would be
severe and cynical. They are abundantly too numerous, at present, and too
much frequented: but many of them are supposed to be, and some, without
doubt, are, in themselves, _lawful_. Of these, only, I am now speaking:
and even of these it must be affirmed, that the unrestrained use of them
is _not expedient_; as, for the other reasons suggested to you in this
discourse, so chiefly, because it degrades the man, and enslaves him.

To conclude; the safe and manly part is, _to be temperate in all
things_[252]: to make our pleasures, the occasional relaxation[253] of
the mind, and by no means the employment of it: not, perhaps, to affect a
total abstinence from them, which the world would account an incivility;
but resolutely to forbear all vicious, or but suspected pleasures: and,
for the rest, to keep a great deal on this side of what is thought
allowable in the use of them.



SERMON XLIX.

PREACHED JULY 5, 1772.

MATTH. v. 38, 39, 40, 41.

_Ye have heared that it hath been said, an eye for an eye, and a tooth
for a tooth. But I say unto you, that ye resist not evil_: but _whosoever
shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also_: And,
_if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him
have thy cloke also_: And _whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go
with him twain_.


I suppose, if these words had been found in any book whatsoever, except
the Bible, no man of sense could have entertained the least doubt of
their meaning. But, while one sort of readers think they do honour to
God’s word by taking every precept in the most strict and rigid sense,
and another, by the same mode of interpretation, hope to dishonour it, we
may expect that, between them, the usual rules of criticism will be very
little regarded.

The text refers us to a law of Moses, which established the _jus
talionis_, or _right of retaliation_[254]. This law, in the main, is
consonant to natural equity; was of general use and authority in ancient
times; has, with some modification, been adopted by legislators of
all times; and was peculiarly fit, or rather necessary, in the Mosaic
institute, composed in a very remote age of the world, and addressed to a
fierce and barbarous people.

But this, so reasonable law, had undergone a double abuse in our
Saviour’s time. What was designed, in the hands of the magistrate, to
prevent future injury, was construed into an allowance of private and
personal revenge: And, again, what was calculated to prevent great and
outrageous injuries, was pleaded in excuse for avenging every injury. The
Jews retaliated, at pleasure, on those that offended them, and for the
slightest offence.

Our divine Master, then, without derogating from the law, when
administered in due form, and on a suitable occasion, applies himself to
correct these so gross perversions of it—I _say unto you, that ye resist
not evil_—that is, that ye do not retaliate on the person, that does you
an injury, in the way of private revenge; or even of a public suit, for
small and trivial injuries.

You see, our Lord’s purpose was, to oppose the mild spirit of the Gospel
to the rigid letter of the law, or rather to an abusive interpretation
of it: And this purpose is declared in three familiar and proverbial
sayings, which, together, amount to thus much; “That, when a small or
tolerable injury is sustained by any one, either in his person, or
property, or liberty, it is far better (and was, thenceforward, to be
the law of Christians) to endure patiently that injury, or even to risk
a repetition of it, than, by retaliating on the aggressor, to perpetuate
feuds and quarrels in the world.”

That such is the meaning of the text, would appear more evidently, if
the injuries specified were, further, considered with an eye to the
sentiments and circumstances of the Jewish people. _A blow on the cheek_
was, always, an indignity, no doubt; but the sense of it was not inflamed
in a Jew by our Gothic notions of honour; though, if it had, the divine
Saviour[255] would scarce have advised his followers to extinguish it
in the blood of a fellow-citizen: the loss of a _vest_[256], or under
garment, was easily repaired, or not much felt, in the cheap and warm
country of Judæa: and the _compulsion to attend another_[257], on his
occasions, was not much resented by a people, that had been familiarised
to this usage by their foreign masters.

But, without scrutinizing the expression farther (which, as I said, is
of the proverbial cast, and, therefore, not to be taken strictly) it
appears certainly, that the rule enjoined is no more than this, “That we
are not to act on the old rigid principle of _retaliation_, but rather to
exercise a mutual patience and forbearance, in our intercourse with each
other, for the sake of charity and peace.”

Still, it has been asked, whether this rule be a reasonable one, and
whether the conduct, it prescribes, be not likely to do more hurt, than
good to mankind?

The ground of this question is laid in following considerations:

First, that resentment, being a natural passion, was, without doubt,
implanted in us for valuable purposes, and that its proper and immediate
use is seen in repelling injuries:

Secondly, That to eradicate, or to suppress this movement of nature, is
to dispirit mankind, and to effeminate their character; in other words,
to make them unfit for the discharge of those offices, which the good of
society requires:

Lastly, That this softness of temper is injurious to the individuals, in
whom it is found, as it exposes them to many insults, and much ill usage,
which the exertion of a quick and spirited resentment would enable them
to avoid:

From all which, conclusions are drawn very unfavourable to the doctrine
of the text, and to the honour of our divine Master. It will, then, be
proper to give the premises a distinct and careful examination. And,

I. _The use of the natural passion of resentment is not superseded by the
law of Jesus._ For the legitimate use of this passion is to quicken us
in repelling such injuries as would render human life wholly burthensome
and uneasy to us, not of those petty affronts and discourtesies which
afflict us much less by being dissembled and forgiven, than by being
resented and returned. Now Christianity does not require us to renounce
the right of nature in repelling injuries of the former class. The law
in question, as explained by our Lord himself, does not, we have seen,
import thus much: and for the rest, the appeal is open to the principles
of nature and common sense—_Why even of yourselves judge ye not what is
right[258]?_ The practice of the Apostles (the best comment on the law)
shews, too, that, on certain critical and urgent occasions[259], they
scrupled not to take advantage of those principles. So that universally,
as it would seem, where the ends of self-preservation, or of prepollent
public utility, require and justify resistance in other men, there it
is left free for Christians, likewise, to _resist evil_; the purpose of
their divine legislator being, in this instance, to explain the law of
nature, and to guard it from the abuse of our hasty passions, not to
abrogate, or suspend it.

If any case be excepted from the general permission, it is that of
_persecution for the sake of his religion_. And possibly this exception
was made in the early days of Christianity, to afford a striking proof to
the world that this religion owed its success to the divine protection
only, and not to the power of men. Accordingly, the command given in
that case has an extraordinary, that is, a suitable, promise[260],
annexed to it. But the end of God’s special providence having been
answered, and the prophecies accomplished[261], by the patience of the
saints under the fiery trial of persecution in those days (whence the
miraculous establishment of our religion is evinced) it seems allowable
to suppose that the Christian world was, thenceforth, in this, as in
other instances, to conduct itself by the ordinary rules and principles
of human wisdom; provided that the object of that wisdom be necessary
_self-defence_, and not dominion, or revenge, which, in all the forms of
either, Christianity forbids and reprobates.

But be this as it may, in cases where religion is not concerned, it
seems clear that Christians are left at liberty to repell intolerable
oppressions by all those means, which human wisdom dictates. And there
is no need of drawing the line very exactly between _tolerable_ and
_intolerable_ injuries, because the aggressor, knowing the force of
instinctive passion, has reason, always, to fear, that it will begin to
operate too soon, rather, than too late.

The apprehension, then, that the proper use of the natural passion,
“_resentment of injuries_”, is likely to be defeated by the patient
genius of the Gospel, is weakly entertained: While, on the other hand,
every one must see the convenience of putting this fiery sentiment of
indignation under some restraint, and of interdicting the exertion of it
in cases, to which so violent a remedy is ill and hurtfully applied.

But

II. It is said, that this doctrine of the Gospel tends to _dispirit and
effeminate mankind_, and to _render Christians unfit for many offices,
which society requires of them_.

What these offices are, one does not readily conceive, since it is
allowed that _evil may be resisted_, when it becomes excessive, that is,
when it is worth resisting. But, I suppose, the objectors mean, this
patient spirit of Christianity damps the vigour with which it is for the
interest of men in society that their civil rights should be asserted, or
a foreign enemy repelled: they think, in short, it makes _bad citizens_,
and _worse soldiers_.

Now to the FORMER charge I reply, that it only tends to check, or
prevent, the turbulent, the factious, the seditious spirit of any
community (which is surely doing it no hurt) while, at the same time, it
allows men to assert their essential civil interests by every reasonable
exertion of firmness and courage; nay, inculcates those principles of
a disinterested love for mankind, and what is properly called a public
spirit, which make it their duty to do so. And they will not do it with
the less effect, for waiting till the provocation given appear to
all men to be without excuse. _The fury of a patient man_, is almost
proverbial: and particularly, in this case, it is to be expected that,
when the natural incitement to resistance, long repressed and moderated,
comes at length to be authorised by necessity, and quickened by sense of
duty, it will act with a force and constancy, not a little formidable to
those against whom it is directed. There is no danger, then, that _true
patriotism_ should suffer by the meek principles of the Gospel of peace.

As to the OTHER charge of their weakening the _military spirit_, it
must be owned again, they would render wars less frequent than they now
are, and less destructive—forgive Christianity this wrong—but, when the
necessity of self-defence (the only justifiable ground of war) is real
and instant, I know not, why the Christian prince, or Christian soldier,
should want courage, because he had given proof of this equitable
forbearance; or, that either will be likely to do his duty the worse, for
knowing that what he does, _is_ his duty.

And, if we appeal to fact, it is enough known, that the Christian
soldiery have been no disgrace to their profession; no, not even then,
when the unresisting spirit was at its height, I mean, in the early
days of our religion. Christians had many good reasons for not being
forward to serve in the Roman armies; but some of them did serve there;
without doubt, when they were released from such military obligations
and observances, as they esteemed idolatrous: Nay, it appears, that the
number of Christian soldiers was, on some occasions, considerable: Yet we
no where find, that these patient men misbehaved themselves in a day of
action; or, that they threw away their swords, when they had said their
prayer.

And I give this instance of bravery in the primitive Christians, the
rather, because it cannot be imputed to a _fanatic spirit_, which is
able, we know, to controul any principles: It cannot, I say, be imputed
to a fanatic spirit, because religion was not the object of those wars,
in which they were engaged: They were left, then, to the proper influence
of their own principles; which at that time had their full effect upon
them, and yet did not prevent them from acting with the true spirit of
their profession, that is, with a full sense of the duty imposed upon
them by their engagements to the state.

With regard to the _publick_, then, there is no reason to think that our
Lord’s injunction will disserve it, in any respect.

III. The last, and most plausible objection to the conduct prescribed
in the text, is, “That the tame spirit, it discovers, is injurious to
_individuals_, and only serves to provoke much insult and ill usage,
which a quick resentment and return of injuries would prevent.”

This is the common plea, and passes with many for a full justification,
of that false honour, which predominates in the world, but is equally
frivolous with the other pretences, already confuted.

For,

1. It is taken up on a groundless and mistaken notion, that the
unfriendly and malevolent passions are the most natural to mankind. On
the contrary, man is by nature, kind and generous; proud and vindictive,
indeed, if stimulated by ill treatment, but prompted, again, by that
very pride, to relent at the appearance of gentleness and submission in
the party offending; and easily disposed to lay aside the thoughts of
revenge, when no obstinate resistance seems to make it necessary. There
are, certainly, few persons, at least in civilized life, of so base a
temper, as to insult others, and much less to insult them the more,
for their gentle inoffensive manners. Or, if such monsters there be,
they will soon become detestable in society; while the objects of their
unprovoked fury find an asylum in the general good-will and favour of
mankind.

They, therefore, who pretend that the world cannot be kept in order, but
by resentment and revenge, will do well to make trial of the opposite
conduct, before they have recourse to so boisterous a remedy. They will
probably find, that _only by_ PRIDE _cometh contention_[262], and that
they have injured their species, in thinking otherwise.

2. Let it be remembered, that the Gospel neither forbids us to take the
benefit of the laws in cases, where the injury is considerable, nor to
resist, without law, in extreme cases; besides, that our corrupt nature
will often get the better of _principle_, I mean, when the provocation is
not of that size, as to justify either remedy. Whence it follows, that
brutal force and malignity will lie under many restraints, and will
rarely be encouraged by the passive temper of a conscientious Christian,
to proceed to such lengths, as the objection supposes. But,

3. Lastly, and principally, we should call to mind, that, though some
ungenerous dispositions should take advantage of our dissembling smaller
injuries, to repeat, or even increase them, till they come at length
to the utmost verge of what we call _tolerable_ injuries, yet it does
not follow, from such inconvenience, that the law is to be accounted
inexpedient. For the law has a general end in view, the good of society
at large, or of the individual: And the law is a proper one, if the end
be commonly and for the most part attained by the conduct prescribed,
though with some exceptions.

That the lawgiver foresaw the possibility of such exceptions, is clear
from the language, employed by him. If a blow _on one cheek_ be patiently
received, it may be succeeded by a blow _on the other_: if we suffer our
_coat_ to be taken away, our _cloke_ may follow it: and if we make no
resistance to the requisition of going _one mile_, we may be compelled to
go _two_. The inconvenience, then, is supposed and admitted in the law
itself; but it was seen not to be of moment enough to evacuate the law.
Generally speaking, it will be better to bear the inconvenience, than
to violate the law; better for the injured party himself, but certainly
better for society, at large.

We are certain, that the law will operate this effect, because the
lawgiver is, by supposition, divine. He, who knew _what was in man_, what
his nature, and true interest, is, could not mistake in adapting the law
to the subject of it. And then, for the _exceptions_, he has it in his
power to make amends for those, and to recompense fully, as he engages
to do, any sacrifice we make to conscience, acting within the scope and
purpose of the law.

So that, on the whole, it is but a just deference to the law, and to the
authority of the lawgiver, to abstain from _resisting evil_, according to
the true sense and spirit of the command, though, by so doing, we subject
ourselves to some, nay to much inconvenience. For he must be slenderly
instructed in the school of Christ, who is yet to learn, that greater
sacrifices, than these, must be made, if need be, for the sake of _him
who died for us_.

Enough, I hope, has been now said, not only to vindicate the sacred
text, but to let you see how repugnant the doctrine of it is to that
contentious, vindictive, and even sanguinary spirit, which prevails so
much among those, who, by a strange abuse of language, call themselves
Christians.

The root of this mischief, is, a pride of heart, nourished in us by
an ill-directed education, and fostered, through life, by the corrupt
customs and maxims of the world. To counteract this inveterate evil, we
shall do well to consider who and what we are; weak, infirm, and sinful
creatures, who are provoking Heaven every day, and should not therefore
resent it much, if we receive but little respect from men. We should
consider, too, that we are the followers of HIM, who suffered every
indignity without deserving any, and yet requires no more from us, than
he practised himself, and for our sakes.

Such considerations will make us humble and meek and placable; ready
to forgive, as we hope to be forgiven; and disposed to make allowance
for those defects in others, which we have so much reason to lament in
ourselves.

Still, if we find the duty, of _not resisting evil_, painful and uneasy
to us, let us be careful to avoid the occasions, which require the
exercise of it. A prudent Christian (and Christianity excludes not,
nay enjoins, prudence) will rarely be put to this trial of his virtue.
We bring an insult on ourselves by indiscreet liberties, by offensive
actions or rash expressions; and then, rather than retract a folly, we
commit a crime.

After all, the most cautious, inoffensive conduct may not exempt us, in
every instance, from discourtesies and affronts, from the petulance or
injustice of unreasonable men. In this case the authority of our divine
Master must controul the movements of nature. We must resolve to endure
what we dare not resist; and, for the rest, may assure ourselves, that,
in giving this proof of our Christian temper and principles, we do what
is perfectly fit and right in itself, is singularly conducive to the
good of society, and, whatever our impatient passions may suggest, will
contribute more than any resistance, to our own true enjoyment, even in
this world.



SERMON L.

PREACHED MAY 14, 1775.

LUKE ix. 26.

_Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him shall the
Son of man be ashamed, when he shall come in his own glory and in his
Father’s, and of the holy Angels._


If we compare this text with the parallel one of St. Mark[263], it will
seem probable that it more immediately concerned the Jews; who, in
consequence of their being _ashamed_ of Christ, and rejecting him, as
their Messiah, should themselves be covered with shame, and be rejected
by him from being his people, when he came to take vengeance of their
crimes in the destruction of Jerusalem. In this view, the words are
prophetical of what should, and, in fact, did, befall the _unbelieving
Jews_ of that age, in which Christ lived; for _before that age was
passed, all these things were fulfilled on_ that _adulterous and sinful
generation_: were so remarkably fulfilled, that the unbelieving Jews,
only, were involved in that calamity, while the Christians, even to a
man, as we are told, providentially made their escape from it.

But, though this be the primary sense of the text, we have reason to
believe that something further, and still more terrible, was intended
by it. For the destruction of Jerusalem was emblematical of that final
destruction, which should await all the enemies of Christ in the day of
judgment; as we may probably gather from the exaggerated terms in which
the prophecy concerning Christ’s coming to judge Jerusalem is delivered,
and as we certainly conclude from those passages of scripture, which
professedly describe the final day of judgment, when _all that believe
not shall be condemned_[264], and concerning which our Lord himself
says—_He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, hath one that
judgeth him: the_ WORD _which I have spoken_, THE SAME _shall judge him
in the last day_[265].

Whence, you see, we are authorized to take the words of the text in their
full force, and to understand them as a general declaration to ALL, who
shall be _ashamed of Christ and of his words_, that _of them_ shall
Christ, also, _be ashamed_, in the great day of retribution, sublimely
expressed by the circumstance of his _coming in his own glory, and in his
Father’s, and of the holy Angels_.

To be _ashamed of_ CHRIST, is very intelligible language, and means to
disown him for what he claims to be, The Messiah; and to take it for a
degradation to us, a reflexion on our own sufficiency and importance,
to regard him as our Lord and Saviour. In like manner, to be _ashamed
of his_ WORDS, is, to think it beneath us to receive his doctrine, and
to observe it: It is to say, or to behave ourselves as if we said, with
neglect and scorn, that we will not condescend to be influenced and
directed by it.

But how, and in what respects, may we be said to incur the guilt of this
charge? in what ways, may we testify to the world that the shame of
CHRIST and of his WORDS is predominant in us?

The inquiry, you see, is of the last importance; for this _shame_ of
Christ, in whomsoever it prevails, and so far as it prevails, will be
repaid in kind, in that day, when he shall _come in glory_, in that day
when it so much concerns us to _have boldness_ before him, _in the day of
judgment_[266].

To assist you, then, in making this momentous inquiry, permit me to lay
before you, gradually and distinctly, the CHIEF of those cases, which
appear to me to express, or imply, the existence of this _false shame_;
and may therefore let us see whether we are, or not, involved in the
guilt of it.

I. They (if any such there be) who reject Christianity on the grounds of
a fair impartial inquiry, cannot so properly be said to be _ashamed_ of
Christ, as to be _convinced_ that he has no claim to their respect and
veneration. For they deny him, they will say, not from a principle of
_shame_, or disrespect, but of what they take to be _right reason_.

But then, if any oblique views have influenced their disbelief; if
conceit, or vanity, or presumption, has any share in forming their
conclusions; if a careless or fastidious neglect of the means, by which
they might be better informed, has mixed itself with their inquiries;
if they have felt the smallest disposition in themselves to struggle
with evidence, or to be concluded by any thing but evidence; if any, or
all, of these motives can be imputed to them, they will find themselves
liable, more or less, to the charge of the text; and it surely concerns
them to see that they stand clear of all such imputations: It concerns
them the more, because, if the revelation be divine, the revealer knew
what evidence was fit to be given of it, and that the evidence given
was sufficient to the conviction of a reasonable inquirer. To the
severe scrutiny of their own hearts, the disbelievers on principle are,
therefore, referred: and, _if their heart condemn them_ in any degree,
let them reflect with awe, that _God is greater than their heart, and
knoweth all things_[267].

But, whatever these immaculate unbelievers may have to say for
themselves, there are others who have the spots of _shame_ indelibly
impressed upon them.

Such were the Jews of old, who rejected Christ, not because they wanted
evidence of his mission (for they could not deny, nay they frankly
owned, that _he did many miracles_[268]), but because he was the _Son
of a Carpenter_[269]; because he was of _Galilee_[270], and dwelt _at
Nazareth_; because their _rulers did not believe in him_[271]; because
they were afraid of being _put out of their synagogue_[272]; because
_they loved the praise of men more than the praise of God_[273]; in plain
words, because on one account or other, they were ASHAMED OF HIM.

SUCH, too, in succeeding times, were many of the pagan wise men, who
disbelieved, because the doctrine of the cross was _foolishness_ to
them[274]; because the Jews, who were the first converts to the faith and
the first preachers of it, were, in their eyes, a contemptible people;
because the vulgar were generally inclined to believe in him; because his
doctrine contradicted and degraded their philosophy; because their pride
of reason would not submit to be tutored by the Galilæan; in a word, for
a hundred frivolous reasons, which only shewed, that they were ASHAMED OF
HIM.

Such, too, in later times (may we affirm without a breach of charity)
have been, and are, many of those over-modest men, who know not how to
withstand the raillery of prophane scoffers; who think the credit of
their parts concerned in rejecting their creed, and applaud themselves
for sitting loose to the principles, which they call the prejudices,
of their Christian education; who affect to have a religion of their
own making, if they have any at all, or, rather, disclaim all regard
to religion, on the authority of this or that renowned patriarch of
infidelity; to say all, in a word, who have the infirmity, and yet make
it a matter of vanity, to be ASHAMED OF JESUS.

Now, of such unbelievers it must be said, that they clearly come within
the description of the text; they are _ashamed_ of the Son of man, and
yet, perhaps, _glory in their shame_: to what end, let them reflect,
when they read on, and find, that of such _shall the Son of man_, in
his turn, _be ashamed, when he shall came in his own glory, and in his
Father’s, and of the holy Angels_.

II. [1.] Of men _professing_ Christianity, they are most exposed to the
censure of the text, who, under a full conviction that Jesus is the
Christ, yet, in WORDS, formally disown and reject him. Such was the
Apostle Peter, who _thrice denied_ his Lord, though he had not the least
doubt of his divine pretensions. And why did he deny him? Because, it
lessened him in the eyes of a stranger or two, to have it believed by
them, that he was connected with a supposed criminal; because he had not
the confidence to bear up against the reproach of a _maid-servant_, who
_looked earnestly upon him, and said, This man was, also, with him_. Such
was the power, which a false shame had upon this great, and otherwise
fervent, disciple of Christ! A memorable instance of human frailty, which
should admonish believers to be on their guard against all approaches
towards a crime, the less pardonable, because committed against the clear
sense of the mind, and almost without temptation.

St. Peter, it is true, might alledge the passion of _fear_, as well as
_shame_: he probably thought his life in some danger, and had an eye
to his personal safety, as well as credit, when he denied his Master.
Yet when he reflected on his unworthy conduct, though under these
circumstances of alleviation, he _wept bitterly_, as he had reason
to do. What then should they feel, who have not this cloke for their
shame? who deny their Lord without any inducement to do so, but the weak
apprehension of disgusting some persons, whose sentiments, after all,
they do not really adopt, themselves. Yet is this no uncommon case. Men
are ashamed to confess with their mouths, what they believe in their
hearts; and give themselves airs of a frank libertinism, when they
tremble at their own impiety: And all this to be well with a frivolous
circle, which they frequent, or to merit the good word of certain
fashionable blasphemers.

[2]. Another sort of men seem to come within the description of the text,
who, though neither prompted by a sense of danger to their persons, nor
of disgrace to their reputation, are yet induced by a regard to their
_interest_, when it presses upon them with a certain force, to dissemble
their conviction, or rather openly to avow their shame of Jesus. Such
are they, of whom our Lord himself speaks, _who for a while believe, and
in time of temptation fall away_[275]: And such, in particular, was the
young man in the Gospel, who had no vice to keep him from believing, nay
who would gladly, perhaps have sacrificed any thing, but his fortune,
to the Christian faith. It seems, as if he had been upon the point of
entering, without reserve, into the service of his new master, when,
being told, that he must part with _all he had_, and then _follow him,
he grew sad at that saying, and went away grieved: for he had great
possessions_[276]. Poverty was a _cross_, which this amiable young man
was not prepared to _take up_. His faith, which, before, gave a promise
of life and vigour, died away at the proposal. He now found, doubtless
with some surprize to himself, that he had the seeds of infidelity
lurking in him. He could not resolve to give this last proof of his
sincerity: he, therefore, withdrew himself from Christ; in other words,
he was _ashamed_ of him. Let us pity the weakness of this unhappy
young man; and only ask ourselves, if, in his circumstances, or in any
approaching to them, we should not have hesitated, as he did, about
_believing in the name_ of the Lord Jesus. If we should, let us implore
the divine grace to strengthen our faith, and frankly confess, that a
secret principle of _shame_, though skulking behind some other and more
venial infirmity, has taken hold of us.

[3]. Still we may not have gone these lengths of infidelity. We assure
ourselves, perhaps, that no consideration would induce us, simply and
wholly, to renounce the faith, and that, if the hard alternative was
proposed to us, we should rather give up wealth, fame, and life itself,
than formally deny our Lord, and disclaim all hopes of interest in him.
But let us explore our hearts a little, those _hearts_, which, as we are
told and have reason to know, are _deceitful above all things_[277]. Have
we never in lesser instances detected ourselves approaching somewhat
towards this ignominious crime of apostacy?

Have we not contented ourselves with being the disciples of Christ
in private, and with _going to him_, as the Ruler of the Jews did,
_by night_, in secrecy, and, as it were, by stealth, not to draw the
observation of men upon us? Have we been willing and ready to serve
him in the congregation, to attend his ordinances, and to revere his
sacraments? Have we dared to let the world see that we are not ashamed
of the cross of Christ[278]? and that we glory in _remembering him_, as
we are admonished to do, at his holy table[279]? Have we no reluctance
to let our friends, nay our servants, know[280] that we live in a daily
sense of our duty to him, and that we hope for all the blessings of
this life and the next, only through his merits and intercession? Have
we never heared his pretensions slighted, and his holy name blasphemed,
without expressing a becoming zeal for the honour of our Redeemer?
Have we testified out displeasure at freedoms of this sort by an open
reprehension of them on all fit occasions; at least by a look and manner,
which shewed how offensive they were to us? On the other hand, have we
never, in such circumstances, by an assumed air of complacency, seemed
to authorize what we secretly disapproved, and to yield our assent to
propositions which we inwardly detested? In a word, have we none of us,
at any time, given occasion to unbelievers to say or think of us, that
we were _almost_ inclined to be of their party; or at least that we had
not the zeal, and firmness and resolution, which men ought to have, who
profess themselves believers in Jesus?

To these, and other questions of the like sort, it concerns us to think
what answers we could honestly make. But of this be we assured: If we
have not constantly and uniformly signified, declared, proclaimed our
attachment to Christ; if we have not taken care to avoid all irreverence
toward our Lord and Master; nay, if we have not been enough upon our
guard to let no man suspect us of _indifference_ towards him—we certainly
have not done our duty; we have virtually denied _the Son of Man_; we
have, in effect, been _ashamed_ of him.

And THUS MUCH may suffice for a commentary on that part of the text,
which more immediately respects the PERSON of Jesus Christ—_Whosoever
shall be ashamed of_ ME—but our Lord goes farther, and says—_Whosoever
shall be ashamed of me, and of_ MY WORDS—_of him shall the Son of Man be
ashamed_, in the day of judgment.

Here, then, is a new subject of discourse. I call it a new one; because,
though the two topics run into one, and he that is ashamed of Christ’s
_words_, may not improperly be said to be ashamed of _Christ himself_,
yet, for the sake of method, it may be convenient to keep these two
points distinct, and to give to each a separate consideration.

It remains, then, to set before you the principal of those ways, in
which we may incur the guilt, especially, of being ashamed of our Lord’s
_words_, that is, his DOCTRINES, and LAWS: a copious and important
subject! on which I shall reserve what I have to say to another
occasion. In the mean time, let us lay to heart what we have now heard
concerning the honour due to the PERSON of our great Redeemer. _Be we
not, therefore, ashamed of our Lord_[281]—but _let us_ resolutely _abide
in him, that when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be
ashamed before him at his coming_[282].



SERMON LI.

PREACHED MAY 21, 1775.

LUKE ix. 26.

_Whosoever shall be ashamed of me, and of_ MY WORDS, _of him shall the
Son of man be ashamed, when he shall come in his own glory, and in his
Father’s, and of the holy Angels_.


The text distinguishes between _being ashamed of_ CHRIST, and being
_ashamed of his_ WORDS. And, though the two charges, in effect, run into
one, yet I have found it convenient, in point of method, to observe that
distinction. Considering the subject, in this double view, we shall see
more clearly, _what_ the crime is, which we are here cautioned to avoid,
and _when_ we are guilty of it.

I have already gone through the first division of the text, and shall now
enter on the second. If we have not formally disowned, or, in effect,
at least, been _ashamed_ of CHRIST, that is, of his name, dignity,
and person, and of the relation, which we bear to him, as our SAVIOUR
and REDEEMER, yet have we not felt in ourselves, and evidenced to
others, something of that disposition in regard to his WORDS, that is,
considering him in the light of our LORD and MASTER?

Now, to do justice to this part of our subject, we must consider the
_words_ of Christ, first, in THEMSELVES, or as composing that form and
manner of address, in which he thought fit to deliver himself to us:
and, secondly, in the SUBJECT MATTER of them, that is, as comprehending
both his _doctrines_ and _precepts_, _articles of faith_, and _rules of
life_, all that, as our heavenly _Instructor_, he requires us to believe,
and, as our _lawgiver_, to put in practice. In both respects, I doubt,
we shall, many of us, find that we have too much, and too often, been
ashamed of Christ’s _words_.

I. Under the first consideration of the words themselves, that is, of
his _manner_ in addressing himself to us, let it be observed, that,
though it be true, in several respects, that _never man spake as this
man_, yet this commendation must not be extended to the _language_ of
his discourses, in which no peculiar art or elegance is affected. He
condescended to speak, as any other Jew might have done, and as his
Apostle afterwards did, plainly and clearly enough to convey his meaning,
but not with _the enticing words of man’s wisdom_, that is, of men
cultivated and polished in the school of Greek or Roman learning. Hence,
both in ancient and modern times, such as were, or pretended to be, so
accomplished, have not unfrequently objected to the style of the Gospel,
as rude and barbarous, and not composed with that beauty, which they
have been taught to admire in the masters of fine writing. Now, though
this pedantry might, perhaps, be excused in an old Pagan sophist, and
is naturally enough assumed by a modern classical unbeliever, one is
shocked to find it in professed Christians. And yet, I doubt, there are
not a few of those, who are _half ashamed_ of the Gospel, because not
written in the best Greek, or according to the rules of the most approved
rhetorick: I doubt, there are even those who might tell us, if they would
(as a polite Italian philologist has done) that they read their bible but
seldom, lest a familiarity with it should hurt their style; or perhaps
abstain from reading it, altogether, because not fashioned according to
their ideas of elegant composition.

It would be paying too much respect to this frivolous delicacy, to enter
into a formal confutation of it. What I shall say to it is, briefly,
this; first, that the style of scripture, though not classical, is by no
means destitute of life and beauty: secondly, that, although it were,
where the matter of it concerns us so much, it is childish to lay any
great stress on the manner: that, _further_, the very objection turns
to the honour of the Gospel, which was purposely so composed that the
effect of it, in the conversion of the world, might be seen to flow from
supernatural causes, and _that our faith should not stand in the wisdom
of men, but in the power of God_.

To all which I might add, what perhaps is a secret to our polite
objectors, that the rules of writing and speaking are more arbitrary than
they are taken to be: that they refer to our customs and manners, and
derive their merit from that reference, only; that, in different times
and places and under different circumstances, the same manner may be good
and bad; and that there is no universal archetype of perfect speech,
existing in nature[283].

But these minute inquiries are not for this time and place. On whatever
principles the style of scripture may be vindicated, or if it cannot be
vindicated at all to a fastidious reader, still I affirm, that the taking
offence at it is a species of that false shame, which the text condemns,
and which deserves condemnation. When the _word of God_ is held up to us
in the great day, and the inquiry is, what attention we have paid to it,
think how poor a subterfuge it will be from the _shame_, that will then
overtake us, to reply, in the face of men and angels, that it was not the
_word_ of Cicero or Plato.

Having dismissed this trifling cavil, let us now see,

II. In the next place, in what respects it may be charged upon us that
we have been ashamed of Christ’s _words_; that is, of their SUBJECT
MATTER; considered in the double view of the _doctrines_, and _precepts_,
contained in them.

1. As to the DOCTRINES of Christ, that is, the peculiar articles of
Christian faith, one would think that to reject, or question, or explain
away these, was inconsistent with the very profession of Christianity.
Yet this conduct in some shape or other, presents itself to us every day,
in those who are, or who desire to be thought, Christians; and one cannot
but wonder at the pains they take to draw upon themselves this charge of
inconsistency.

Some, bolder than the rest, would expunge whole chapters, nay books,
from the sacred canon, when the narrative rises above their faith, or
the doctrine will not sink to a level with their wisdom; others content
themselves with nibbling at single sentences, or, perhaps, words; and, if
no obscure manuscript be at hand to favour the system they adopt, take
refuge in a forced, unnatural punctuation. How many ancient and modern
heresies have we seen supported by that presumptuous, or this minute
strain of criticism!

Some, again, when the text is not called in question, turn their
ingenuity another way, and strike out new modes of interpretation. They
mangle and disfigure plain facts, or resolve them into allegories:
of this class were those primitive heresiarchs, who maintained that
_Christ was not come in the flesh_[284], and that _the Resurrection was
past already_[285]; and of the same family, too, are those presumptuous
moderns, of whatever name, who stumble at the cross of Christ, and sink
the doctrine of Redemption in a metaphor.

A third sort excell in puzzling a clear text, in putting a violent
construction on artless words, in explaining mysteries by metaphysics,
or, to get rid of them at once, in making the plain fishermen of Galilee
speak the language of Platonism, or of the Jewish cabbala.

In a word, it would be endless to specify all those, who by studied
devices, of various kinds, mutilate, prevert, misinterpret, confound the
word of God, obtruding their own sense upon it, and finding any thing
there rather than the plain obvious mind of the Revealer.

And why is all this industry employed, these daring liberties taken?
Why to make _Christianity not mysterious_, to shew how reasonable its
doctrines are, and to remove all objections against them. The pretence is
fair. But shall we then admit nothing in scripture, in that scripture
which we call divine, but what we perfectly understand, and can make
appear, in all its parts, to harmonize with our systems? Alas, what is
this, but to prescribe to the Spirit of God; to substitute our wisdom
in the place of his; in a word, to be ashamed of Christ’s words, and to
idolize our own reason.

To give one remarkable instance, out of many, of this false shame. If
there be any thing clearly revealed in holy scripture, it is, that there
is a world of spirits, good and bad: and of the last, that there is ONE,
placed at the head of them, who sets himself in opposition (as indeed all
bad men do) to the will of God; who had a share in seducing our first
parents, and still works in the children of disobedience; who was even
permitted to tempt Christ, and to possess Judas; in a word, who is styled
the _Prince of this world_, and, for the overthrow of whose empire,
principally, the Son of God came down from heaven: If I say, there be any
clear undisputed point of doctrine in the Gospel, it is this: the whole
scheme of Christianity depends upon it: and yet what pains have not been
taken to exterminate evil spirits, and disenchant the world of them;
although by such methods, as would render language itself of no use, and
confound all the rules of just criticism and sober interpretation?

These interpreters, I know, pretend (and many of them, I dare say, with
good faith) a zeal for the honour of God, in their attempts of this
nature. But let them look deep into themselves. They will, perhaps,
find, that they are paying, at the same time, a secret homage to their
own understandings, as if the whole of God’s moral government lay open
to their view, and they were able to pervade every part of it; that they
hold a revelation in no esteem, which puzzles their philosophy; and that,
therefore, they force a meaning of their own on the words of Christ,
because they are inwardly _ashamed_ of that, in which his words are most
naturally to be taken.

Leaving, then, these rationalists to the scrutiny of their own inmost
thoughts, let us inquire,

2. What regard is due to the _words_ of Christ, considered not as
articles of belief, but _rules of practice_.

And here, I doubt, it must be acknowledged that we have, all of us, more
or less, been _ashamed_ of our divine Master. For we are convicted of
this shame, whenever we disobey his commands, seen and admitted to be
_his_, on account of any repugnancy they have to the fashion of the
world, and to the consideration we affect to have in it. And who is
there, that, in this respect, can hope to stand clear of all blame, _when
he is judged_?

_Be meek and lowly of heart_, says our Lord. On the contrary, we are
proud and arrogant, that we may not be thought to want spirit. _Take no
thought for to-morrow_, are the words of Christ: but the world says, be
rich and great; and we think of nothing else but _to-morrow_. _Blessed
are the pure in heart_, says our spotless Preceptor: Are we not _ashamed_
of these words, when we had rather run the risk of any defilement, than
appear unfashionable? And so in a multitude of other instances.

Still, perhaps, we respect the rule, in some sort, and blame ourselves
for the breach of it.

But what shall we say of those, who reject the _word spoken_ with a high
hand, and offend against it on principle, as we may say, and by system?

_Go and sin no more_, says our Lord to an adulteress convict; and his
words imply a severe censure of having sinned at all, in that instance.
But are there none who think this a hard saying, who regard it as a
narrow prejudice; who treat the observance of it as a needless scruple;
nay, who pique themselves on the violation of it? Are there not some,
who delight in this sin by way of preference? who lay it down for a
maxim, that this commerce, under certain circumstances, and covered with
a certain veil of manners, is allowable, is reputable, is meritorious?
Nay, are there not those who would take it ill to be thought incapable of
aspiring to that distinction, which, in certain quarters, this commerce
supposes?

But let me not enlarge farther on this horrid subject. Consider only,
whether the parties concerned must not deride a precept, which they are
proud to transgress, and whether in the saddest sense of the word, they
may not be said to be _ashamed_ of it.

ANOTHER instance occurs, the mention of which, I am sensible, can be
of no farther use than to illustrate my subject. A placability of
temper, the forgiveness of injuries, the love of our enemies, nothing
is more insisted upon in the Gospel, than these virtues, which make
the very essence of a Christian’s temper. The precepts to this purpose
are numberless and express, and enforced with all possible authority.
Yet, to persons, in certain conjunctures, and of a certain rank in the
world, it would be an affront, but to remind them of their duty. We
know, who it was, that, _when he was reviled, reviled not again, when
he suffered, threatened not, but committed himself to him who judgeth
righteously_[286]. But what then? Neither precept, nor example, moves
him, who calls himself a man of honour, and is the slave of fashion. He
has command enough of himself to assume an air of tranquillity, and to
observe all the forms of good-breeding. But his hate is rancorous, his
resentment hot as hell, his revenge, immortal. Let his pretences be what
they will, his conduct cries aloud to all the world, “I renounce the
Gospel, I am _ashamed_ of the meek and merciful religion of Jesus.”

To conclude: We now understand in what ways, and in how many respects,
we may be _ashamed of Christ and his words_. In recounting those several
ways, whether respecting the name and dignity of our Lord, or the
rule of faith and practice, which he has given us, we have seen, at
the same time, how little, how base, how ungrateful, how impious, how
inexcusable, in all views, this _shame_ is: especially in all those,
who wear the name, and do not wholly disclaim the faith, of a Christian.
More words would be thrown away on those, who are insensible to such
considerations. Or, if any further remonstrance can be of use, if there
be a motive left that can reach their case, it must be one, that alarms
their fears, and shews the danger, the unspeakable hazard, to which they
expose themselves by this miserable conduct. And, in the whole extent of
God’s word, there is not, in the nature of things there cannot be, a more
awakening, a more terrible denunciation, than that of the text, which
therefore I cannot do better than leave with you in its own proper form,
as pronounced by our Lord himself—_Whoever shall be ashamed of me and of
my words, of him shall the Son of man be ashamed, when he shall come in
his own glory, and in his Father’s, and of the holy Angels_.



SERMON LII.

PREACHED JANUARY 29, 1775.

St. MATTH. xvi. 18.

_I say also unto thee, that thou art_ PETER, _and upon this rock I will
build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it_.


The way of giving a new name to an eminent person, more immediately
concerned in any great transaction; a name, expressive of that
transaction, and therefore proper to fix and perpetuate the memory of
it; this custom, I say, was of known use in the ancient world. Thus,
when God renewed his covenant with _Abram_, and engaged to _multiply
him exceedingly_, the name of this patriarch was changed to _Abraham_;
which name, in the Hebrew language, signifies _the father of a great
multitude_[287]: and, for a like reason, the patriarch _Jacob_ took the
name of _Israel_[288]; to omit many other instances of this usage, which
occur in the sacred scriptures.

Just so, when one of the Apostles, known before by the name of _Simon_,
had made a memorable confession of his Master’s being _the Christ, the
son of the living God_, i. e. the redeemer, the prince of Israel, the
Messiah foretold, our blessed Lord, to give weight and emphasis to this
confession, confers a new name upon him. For he _answered and said unto
him, Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-Jona; for flesh and blood hath not
revealed it unto thee, but my Father which is in heaven_: That is, no
man hath revealed this great truth to thee, nor has any interest of man,
any thing, indeed, but the spirit of God, influencing thy impartial and
well-disposed mind, prompted thee to entertain and avow it thus heartily
and publicly (the proofs of it not being, at present, so strong, as they
hereafter shall be): Therefore, to express my approbation of this great
testimony to a truth, which is the fundamental article of my religion,
and, at the same time, to signify to thee the honour, with which I mean
to reward thee for it, _I further say unto thee, Thou art Peter, and upon
this rock will I build my Church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail
against it_.

The name, _Peter_, signifying a _rock_ in the Greek language, implies,
we see, the immoveable truth of the confession, here made, on which the
Christian religion was to be built; and the immoveable firmness, too,
of the Confessor, who should have a share, with the other Apostles, in
supporting the whole fabric, and be himself, in point of time, the first
stone, on which the glorious superstructure was to be made.

It follows—_and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it_—that is,
_Death_, or _Destruction_ (for that, only, the oriental phrase—_the gates
of hell_—here signifies[289]) shall never prevail against this church,
being founded on thee, and the testimony, made by thee, as on a rock of
ages, which shall never give way, or be removed.

We see, then, the full meaning of this famous text, which contains, in
effect, TWO prophecies: ONE, respecting the foundation of the Christian
church, and (so far as the Apostle Peter was personally concerned in
the prediction) then verified, when Peter laid the first stone of this
august building in the converts made by him both among the Jews[290] and
Gentiles[291]: the OTHER prophecy, respecting the perpetuity of this
church; which the divine Providence would, in no future age of the world,
permit to be destroyed.

So that, not the supremacy of Peter over the rest of the Apostles (as the
church of Rome vainly pretends), but the priority of his claim, in point
of time, to signal services in the conversion of mankind, is expressed
in this memorable promise made to Peter—_on this rock will I build my
church_: and, for the second assurance, here given, and which, to so
zealous a master-builder, as our Apostle, must have been singularly
welcome—_that the gates of hell shall never prevail against it_—we may,
now, by the experience of more than seventeen hundred years, understand,
how far it has been, and how likely it is, in the full extent of the
words, to be fulfilled.

But, to see little more distinctly what this experience is, and what
presumption arises out of it for the truth of our holy religion, let us
call to mind, if you please, the more remarkable of those attacks, which
have been made, at different times, on the church of Christ, and yet how
constantly and successfully they have been repelled.

I. No sooner had the foundations of the church been laid on the _rock_
of this testimony—that _Jesus was the Christ, the Son of God_—than the
storms of persecution arose, and beat violently upon it. Nor was it,
indeed, strange, that this new doctrine, published every where, with
great boldness, by men who had been eye-witnesses of what they affirmed,
and calculated to overturn all the favourite maxims and usages of the
world, should meet with the fiercest opposition. And how easy did it seem
for that world to crush the infant society, now struggling for life in
the hands of twelve poor, illiterate, and friendless men, if the decree
of Heaven had not gone forth—_that the gates of hell should not prevail
against it_!

I know, indeed, that this violence of persecution was, in the end, of
advantage to the Christian cause; and, from the nature of the human mind,
when once persuaded of any thing, true or false, might be expected to be
so. For cruelty, in such cases, only excites an unconquerable firmness
and perseverance. But what was persuasion in succeeding converts to the
gospel of Christ, was knowledge, or rather the infallible evidence of
sense, in the first publishers of it. The Apostles witnessed a matter of
fact, when they made known the resurrection of Christ, on which their
whole doctrine rested. And it is not in nature for any single man, much
less for twelve men, to suffer, and to die, for a false fact, not taken
upon trust from others, but asserted on their own proper and personal
experience. If Jesus did not rise from the dead, they neither saw, nor
felt, nor conversed with him after his resurrection, that is, they had
no persuasion for force to harden into obstinacy, but a consciousness of
falshood in their attestation, which could not have held out against the
rage of their persecutors[292].

If it be said, that criminals are often supposed, and not without reason,
to die with a falshood in their mouths, I answer, it is very possible:
but, besides that the Apostles gave no signs, in the rest of their
conduct, of a want of principle, by declaring the truth, in this case,
they might have saved their lives, whereas a criminal, for the most part,
is but the more likely to lose his, by a true confession.

Or, if, lastly (for suspicion, I am aware, is not easily satisfied,
if) the perseverance of the martyred apostles be accounted for from a
false point of honour, I admit, that this strange principle sometimes
overpowers conviction; but rarely, in any number of men confederated in
the same cause, and, least of all, in a number of men of so plain and
artless characters, as the Apostles.

On the whole, we have reason to conclude, that, if Christianity had not
been true, it must have perished with its first preachers: at least,
it cannot be denied, that in outliving the violence, with which it was
assaulted, both by Jew and Gentile, on its appearance in the world, this
religion has thus far verified the remarkable prediction of its author.

II. The external peace of the church was scarce settled under
Constantine, when internal commotions shook its frame, and with a
violence, which was likely to bring on, and that in no long time, its
entire dissolution. By these commotions, I mean the heresies, that
sprung up in abundance, and distracted the Christian world for several
centuries. The zeal, or rather fury, with which these disputes were
carried on, was unappeasable; and, if it be true, that _a house divided
against itself cannot stand_, there was reason to expect that the
houshold of Christ would exemplify this maxim: While, at the same time,
the Christian name was so dishonoured by these contentions, and the
lives, as well as the faith, of Christians, so polluted by them, that
believers themselves were almost tempted to renounce a profession, which
laboured under so much infamy; and the rest of the world could scarce
fail to contract an incurable aversion to it.

This, indeed, was so much the case, and the advantage, given to the
enemies of our faith, by these scandalous abuses of it, so great, that
one is not surprised to find

III. A _third_, and still more alarming danger of the Christian church,
in the sudden rise and propagation of the Mahometan religion.

For it was the corruption of Christianity, that gave occasion, or
success, at least, to this daring imposture. And now it might seem, that
_the gates of hell_ were set wide open, and destruction ready to rush
upon, and seize, its defenceless prey, the Christian church, disheartened
and disabled by its own vices. The uncontroulable spirit of this ruthless
sect was, indeed, alarming to the last degree; when a secret providence,
first, softened its ferocity, and, then, put a stop to its successes.

I ascribe these effects to the _good providence of God_, watching
over the preservation of our holy faith; for what else could make the
disciples of Mahomet tolerant in spite of their ignorance and bigotry;
and pacific, when their law breathed nothing but war and universal
dominion?

Still the church had other trials to undergo; and _hell_ had yet in
reserve some further engines of its wrath to employ against her. For

IV. While the African and Asiatic Christians were in danger of a total
suppression by the rage of their Ottoman masters, the European had almost
as much to apprehend from exhaustless swarms of Northern barbarians.
And, what darkened the prospect still more, all knowledge and learning
had disappeared, during these turbulent ages. Hence, to the destructive
fanaticism of the East, was added the grossest _superstition_ of the
West; which, growing up in a long night of ignorance, and yet directed by
policy towards the establishment of a vast and gloomy empire, involved
all Christendom in its pestilential shade, and threatened the very
extinction of all true religion.

Yet it pleased God, in this distressful state of his church, to provide
for its continuance, and even integrity, in due time, by making the
cloystered ignorance of the Monks serve to the preservation of the sacred
canon; and the enslaving projects of a tyrannical hierarchy, to the
restoration of religious and civil liberty.

And thus, though the powers of _hell_ had been successively let loose
against the church of Christ in the terrible shapes, first, of Jewish
and Gentile persecution; then, of heresy, in the church itself; next,
of Mahometan enthusiasm; and, lastly, of Antichristian superstition;
yet have they not prevailed against this sacred structure, founded on a
_rock_, guarded, as we believe, by heaven itself, and therefore destined
to be eternal.

I have touched these several particulars slightly and rapidly, just to
put you in mind of what the Christian religion has endured, since its
appearance in the world; and to let you see how unlikely it is that this
religion should have kept its ground against these various and multiplied
attacks, if it had not been divinely protected.

But of all the trials, to which it has been exposed, the greatest by far,
if this religion had been an imposture, is ONE, which I have not yet
mentioned; and that is, _the examination of severe, enlightened Reason_.

And this trial, to complete its honour, our divine faith hath TWICE
undergone: _once_, in the very season of its birth; and now, _again_,
for two or three centuries, since the revival of letters, in our Western
world: periods, both of them, distinguished, in the annals of mankind,
by a more than common degree of light and knowledge; which must, in the
nature of things, have been fatal to any scheme of religion, pretending
only to a divine original, and not really so descended.

But this part of the argument is too large, as well as too important, for
me to enter upon at present. Let me therefore conclude with a short and
interesting reflexion on so much of it, as we have been considering.

It was natural, no doubt, for the author of a new religion, full of his
scheme, and impressed with the importance of it, to promise to himself
the perpetuity of his work. But a wise man might easily conjecture that
a religion, like the Christian, would meet with the fiercest opposition:
and, though this be not a proper time to shew it, it might be shewn, that
_the spirit of Christ_[293] distinctly foresaw the several species of
opposition, which his religion had to encounter[294].

Yet, in the face of all these perils, our Lord predicts, in the most
direct and positive terms, that his church should brave them all, and
subsist for ever. It has subsisted to this day, after encountering such
storms of persecution and distress, as must, in all likelihood, have
overturned any human fabrick. Is not the true solution of the fact, this,
that it was founded on _the word of God, which endureth for ever_[295]?
The rest, then, follows of course. The wise master-builder (to use his
own words on another occasion, near akin to this) _had built his house
upon a_ ROCK: _and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds
blew and beat upon that house: and it_ FELL NOT, _for it was founded upon
a_ ROCK[296].



SERMON LIII.

PREACHED FEBRUARY 5, 1775.

St. MATTH. xvi. 18.

_And I say also unto thee, that thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will
build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it._


The religion of Jesus hath descended to us, through TWO, the most
enlightened ages of the world. It was, first, published in the reign of
Tiberius: It was re-published, as we may say, at the Reformation: and is
it likely, that an imposture should have made its way in the _former_
of these periods? Or, is it possible, it should still keep its ground
against the influence of all that light and knowledge, by which the
_latter_ has been distinguished?

To see what force there is in these questions, permit me to lay before
you a slight sketch of the trials, to which Christianity has been exposed
from the improved reason of ancient and modern times, and of the effect,
which those trials appear to have had on the credit and reception of that
Religion.

I. Jesus preached the Gospel in the reign of Tiberius: that is, in a time
of profound peace, when arts and letters were generally diffused through
the Roman empire; and in Judea, at that time a Roman province. So far was
this thing from being _done in a corner_[297]!

This religion, on its first appearance in the world, had therefore to
encounter two sorts of men, well qualified, and not less disposed, to
give it a severe examination; I mean, the learned JEWS, on the one hand,
and the reasoning GENTILES, on the other. Yet it prevailed against all
the efforts of both.

It was, first, proposed to the JEWS, and its pretensions were to be tried
by the correspondence of its principles and history to the doctrine and
predictions of their sacred books. That vastly the greater part of the
Jewish nation resisted the evidence of that appeal, is well known: but
that great numbers did not, and, of these, that some, at least, were
of principal note for their rank, and knowledge in the scriptures, is
equally certain and allowed; with this further concession, that the
evidence, whatever it was, prevailed over the most inveterate prejudices,
that ever possessed any people, and the most alarming difficulties and
discouragements, to which human nature can be exposed. Let the fact,
then, be considered, with all its circumstances, on both sides. And as to
the merit of the argument, we are well able to judge of it. The sacred
writings of the Jews, to which the appeal lay, are in all hands: and with
what triumphant superiority the followers of Jesus reasoned from them, we
see, in their numerous works, still extant, and especially in those of
the great Apostle, St. Paul. So that, if all the scriptural learning, and
all the bigotry of Judaism, could not stop the progress of Christianity,
as we know it did not, it may fairly be presumed, that the way of inquiry
was not unfavourable to the new religion, and that truth and reason were
on that side. But

2. From the Jews, let us turn to the GENTILES, at that time flourishing
in arts and letters. To them was the Gospel preached by the Apostles,
and especially by their Apostle, St. Paul, through the whole extent
of the Roman empire; and not without success in the head quarters of
Gentilism, in the chief towns of Asia, in Greece, at Athens, and even at
Rome itself.

The pride of Gentile wisdom, indeed, kept its professors, for some time,
from taking more than a superficial notice of the new religion. But
its rapid progress among the people, joined to its declared purpose of
prescribing to the general faith of mankind, broke through this real or
affected indifference, rouzed, at length, the attention of the great
and wise, and provoked the zeal of both to shew itself in every mode of
opposition. The great persecuted, and the wise reasoned: and this latter
species of hostility (the more alarming of the two, if Christianity had
been an imposture) was carried on with vigour, and without intermission
(whatever intervals there might be of the _former_) through several
successive ages. The four Gospels, and the other authentic documents of
our religion, were now in all hands, when this lettered war commenced
against Christianity, and continued, till Paganism was utterly overthrown
and subdued. Many adversaries of the Christian name engaged in this
unequal contest: but the most distinguished are, CELSUS, in the second
century; PORPHYRY, in the third; and JULIAN, in the fourth: all of them,
eminent philosophers; and the last of this great triumvirate, an imperial
one. The two first wrote with all freedom, because against a persecuted,
and on the side of the predominant, religion; and the third had the whole
power of the state in his own hands.

The works of these great chieftains of infidelity, it must be owned, are
not extant in their proper form. But Celsus is almost entire in Origen; a
great part of Julian may be seen in Cyril; and considerable fragments of
Porphyry’s work have been preserved in Jerom and other old writers.

Ye do not expect me to produce, on this occasion, the substance of what
these three philosophers have said against the Christian cause. Any that
will, may see it in the original authors, just mentioned, or in many
modern collections, that have been made out of them. It may be enough to
say, that those, who give themselves this trouble, will find much abuse
and misrepresentation, and some argument: but the last so weak, and
inconclusive, that one cannot wonder much at what Chrysostom tells us,
“That the early books, written against Christianity, soon fell into a
general contempt; that they perished almost as fast as they appeared; and
that, if they still subsisted any where, it was, because they had been
preserved by the Christians themselves[298].”

But, setting aside, for the present, the merits of the question,
the fact[299], we know, is, that all the efforts of Greek and Roman
philosophy were not successful: that the church was soon filled with
its professors, even before the empire became Christian: and that this
great event itself happened within little more than three centuries from
the birth of Christ. _So mightily grew the word of God, and prevailed_,
notwithstanding the severity, with which its pretensions were tried.

It will be said, however, “that the argument, drawn from the success of
Christianity, is not altogether so convincing, as we pretend: that, for
a time, the learned heathens paid but little attention to the new sect;
that, when it had taken such root among the people as to become the
general subject of inquiry, learning was now very much on the decline;
that barbarism had prevailed to a great degree before the days of
Constantine, and then increased so fast, especially after the irruption
of the Northern nations, as to leave no traces, almost, of light and
knowledge; and that to this sottish state of ignorance, and, its usual
attendant, credulity, which continued through many ages, the widely
extended and permanent establishments of Christianity are, therefore,
most probably to be ascribed.”

Now, though I cannot assent to what is here alledged, or insinuated, that
the adversaries of Christianity wanted either time, or light, or zeal
enough to discredit its pretensions, if the way of reason and disputation
could have done it, before that long night of ignorance came on which
is supposed to be so favourable to religious imposture; yet I will not
deny that taste and literature were degenerating in the Roman empire,
from the time that learned pagans began to interest themselves in the
controversy with the Christians; and that, therefore, had the last only
prevailed through this period of declining letters, something would have
been wanting to the force and integrity of that argument, which infers
the truth of their cause, from its success. But the fact is, that the
event has been the same, in opposite circumstances; as I shall now shew,

II. Under the SECOND head of this discourse; in which I proposed to point
out to you, very briefly, the influence of REVIVING, AND REVIVED letters
on the credit and reception of the Christian faith.

From the middle of the 14th century, and even earlier, there were some
efforts made to break through that gloom of ignorance and superstition,
which had so long overspread the Christian world; and, before the end
of it, it was visible enough that these efforts would, in no long time,
be attended with success. Accordingly, a zeal for true and ancient
literature made its way through most parts of Europe, and with so rapid
a progress, that multitudes of able men arose within the compass of the
next century, and were enough instructed to assist in the reformation
of religion, which followed in the commencement of the 16th. From that
time to the present, arts and letters have been studied with unceasing
application; and all the powers of reason put forth in the cultivation
of knowledge, in the discovery of error, and the search of truth. It is
pretended, that we are now enlightened beyond the example of all former
ages: it is credible, that, in some places, where liberty has attended
the pursuits of learning, the utmost ability of the human mind, on the
most important objects of science, has been exerted and displayed.

Now, amidst this blaze of light, gradually ascending from the dawn
of science to its meridian lustre, what has been the fortune of the
divine religion, we profess? It has been the first, and last object of
attention. It has been examined with the most suspicious and sceptical
curiosity. It has stood the attacks of wit, of learning, of philosophy;
and, sometimes, of all these acting in concert, without any restraint or
reserve whatsoever. Yet it keeps its ground; or rather the belief of it
is entertained, not only by the multitude, but, more firmly than ever, by
the ablest and wisest men.

For the truth of this assertion, I can only refer you to your own fair
and candid observation; the proof of it being much too long to be given,
at this time. For it would require me to set before you the several
topics of argument, which have been employed against Christianity, and
the futility of them. It would, further, oblige me to make appear, that
the number of those, who still embrace Christianity, is not only vastly
greater, but their names, too, beyond comparison, more respectable, than
of those who reject it: all which it would be tedious, indeed, but not
difficult to shew.

However, till some such proof be produced, ye will be apt, I know, to
remind me of many eminent persons, who have been the declared enemies of
our religion: ye will object to me the complaints, which even divines
make, of an overflowing infidelity in the present times.

In abatement of this prejudice, I could say with much truth, that the
character of those eminent persons has been raised too high; and that
these complaints, though not without foundation, have been carried too
far. But I have other, and more momentous considerations to suggest to
you, on this subject.

At the revival of letters, when the manifold corruptions of Christianity
had been discovered, it was too natural for the disabused mind to
entertain some suspicions of the revelation itself; and when reason, now
emancipated from authority, had tried its strength, and found itself able
to detect innumerable errors in religion and science, it too hastily
concluded that there was no subject too vast for its comprehension,
and that its power and right to decide on all questions whatsoever was
evident and beyond dispute. From that suspicious, and this delirious
state of the human mind, infidelity sprung up, and on either stock it
still grows. “We have been deceived in many things, with regard to this
religion; therefore in every thing.” “We know much; therefore we are
capable of knowing all things.”—These, as extravagant as they appear, are
the two sophisms, into which all modern free-thinking is to be resolved.

But now it is so evident to men of sense, that “a revelation may be
true, though much imposture has been grafted upon it, and that its
doctrines may challenge our belief, though they be not within the reach
of our knowledge.” This, I say, is now so uncontroverted among men of
sense, that, if the list of those, who, in the course of two or three
centuries, have supported the infidel cause on those grounds, were
ever so great or so conspicuous, it could furnish no argument, or even
presumption, in favour of that cause itself.

But the truth is, that list is neither formidable for its numbers, nor
for the capacity of those, of whom it consists. It shrinks into nothing,
when we oppose to it the multitudes of able men, who have been, during
this period, and are, the advocates of Christianity; and, among these,
when we recollect the names of Grotius, Pascal, Bacon, Locke, Boyle,
Newton, and many others (not of the sacred order, though I know not why
the authority of these should be left out of the account); when, I say,
we look up to these great lights and ornaments of the Christian world.

Nor let it be surmized, that the reasonings of infidel writers have been
better, or other, than they are here represented to be, or that they have
not been enforced with full liberty, and in all their strength. What
the liberty, or rather licence, of these enlightened times has been, we
all know: And of their arguments, ye may all judge: though this labour
be the less necessary, as most of them have not only been triumphantly
confuted by believers, but successively exploded by unbelievers
themselves; and the rest of them, have not prevented men of thought and
ability from being generally on the side of the Christian religion, even
to this day.

Ye see, I am as concise as possible, and omit very much of what might
be said on this subject, not to exceed the limits usually prescribed to
a discourse in this place. But when ye contemplate the present state
of Christianity, in an age of the greatest light and freedom, and the
respect that is still paid to it, I must just desire you to call to
mind the state of pagan religion under the like circumstances; and to
reflect that, when men of sense examined its pretensions in the Augustan
age, there was not a single person, in the priesthood or out of it, of
ability and learning, who did not see and know that the whole was a
manifest imposture, and destitute of all evidence, that could induce a
well-grounded and rational assent[300]. Can any thing like this be said,
or even suspected, of the Christian faith?

I know, that fraud and falsehood, by being mixed with a great deal of
acknowledged evident truth, may obtain respect even with some acute and
inquisitive men; as, without doubt, has been the case of Popery, since
the Reformation: I know, too, that a false religion, unsupported by any
truth, may even keep its ground in a learned age, when restraint or other
causes have prevented a free inquiry into that religion; as may have been
the case of Mahometanism, in one stage of the Saracen empire: but that
a religion, like the Christian, as delivered in the Scriptures, which
must either be wholly false, or wholly true, and has been scrutinized
with the utmost freedom and severity, should yet, if the arguments for it
were weak and fallacious, maintain its credit, and subsist in the belief
of the most capable and accomplished reasoners, is, I think, a prodigy,
which never has appeared, or can appear among men.

I suppose, enough has been, now, said to shew, that, in fact, the
knowledge of past or present times has not discredited the cause of
Christianity; and that what there is of infidelity may be well accounted
for from certain prevailing prejudices, which unhappily sprung up with
returning Letters, at the Reformation. I might go on to shew, that the
evidences of the Christian religion, as drawn out, and set before us, by
its modern apologists, are now stronger, and more convincing, than they
ever were in any former period; and that, on the whole, this religion has
not lost, but gained infinitely, by all the inquiries, which improved
science has enabled men of leisure and curiosity to make into it. But it
is time to return to the TEXT, and to conclude this commentary upon it,
with one or two short reflexions.

FIRST, if it be true, that after so many trials of every kind, those
especially of reason, and philosophy, to which the religion of the Gospel
has been exposed, the belief of it remains unshaken in the minds of men,
Then is the prophecy of the text thus far signally verified; and it is
indisputable, that _the gates of hell have not_, hitherto, _prevailed
against it_.

SECONDLY, if it be scarce imaginable that any future trials, from
without, should be more severe, than those which Christianity has already
suffered; or that those, from within, I mean the trials of severe
rational inquiry, should be more formidable, than what it has undergone
in two periods, the most distinguished for the free exertion of the
human faculties, of any that have occurred in the history of the world;
then may it seem credible, or rather then is the presumption strong and
cogent, that neither, hereafter, will the prophecy be confuted, and that
the _gates of hell shall not_, at any time, or at all, _prevail against
it_.

THIRDLY, and lastly, We may learn, from both these conclusions, to put
our trust in this impregnable fortress of our Religion; to embrace with
stedfastness, and to observe with the utmost reverence, a RULE OF FAITH
AND LIFE, which bears the signatures of immortality upon it, and appears
to be under the special protection, as it proceeded originally from the
special favour and authority, of God himself.



  A

  LARGER DISCOURSE,

  BY WAY OF

  COMMENTARY,

  ON

  THAT REMARKABLE PART

  OF

  THE GOSPEL-HISTORY,

  IN WHICH

  JESUS IS REPRESENTED,

  AS DRIVING THE BUYERS AND SELLERS
  OUT OF THE TEMPLE.



A

DISCOURSE[301]

ON

CHRIST’S DRIVING THE BUYERS AND SELLERS OUT OF THE TEMPLE.


I propose, in this discourse, to take into consideration a very
remarkable part of the Gospel-history; in which Jesus is supposed to have
exercised an act of authority on some persons, whom the Jews permitted to
carry on a certain traffic within the walls of the Temple.

I shall, FIRST, recite the several accounts, which the sacred historians
have given of this transaction; and shall, THEN, hazard some
observations, which will, perhaps, be found to lessen, or to remove, the
objections commonly made to it.

I begin with St. John’s account of it, which is delivered in these words:

    Ch. ii. 13-17.

    “And the Jews passover was at hand, and Jesus went up to
    Jerusalem, and found in the temple those that sold oxen, and
    sheep, and doves, and the changers of money, sitting: And when
    he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out
    of the temple, and the sheep and the oxen; and poured out the
    changers money, and overthrew the tables; and said unto them
    that sold doves, Take these things hence; make not my Father’s
    house an house of merchandize. And his disciples remembered
    that it was written, The zeal of thine house hath eaten me up.”

Thus far the Evangelist, St. John: And the order of the history shews,
that this was done at the _first_ Passover which Jesus attended, after
he had taken upon himself his prophetic office.

The other Evangelists relate a similar transaction, which had happened at
the Passover, immediately preceding his crucifixion. Some have imagined
that, on this last occasion, the same act was repeated by him, on two
several days; but I see no sufficient ground for that supposition.
St. Mark is easily reconciled with St. Matthew and St. Luke by only
admitting, what is very usual in the sacred writers, some little neglect
of method in the narration of one or other of those historians.

    Mat. xxi. 12, 13.

    “And Jesus went into the temple of God, and cast out all them
    that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables
    of the money-changers, and the seats of them that sold doves,
    and said unto them, it is written, My house shall be called the
    house of prayer, but ye have made it a den of thieves.”

    Mark xi. 15-17.

    “And they come to Jerusalem: And Jesus went into the temple,
    and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple,
    and overthrew the tables of the money-changers, and the seats
    of them that sold doves; And would not suffer that any man
    should carry any vessel through the temple. And he taught,
    saying unto them, Is it not written, My house shall be called
    of all nations the house of prayer? But ye have made it a den
    of thieves.”

    Luke xix. 45, 46.

    “And he went into the temple, and began to cast out them that
    sold therein, and them that bought, saying unto them, It is
    written, My house is the house of prayer: but ye have made it a
    den of thieves.”

In reading these passages, one is led to conclude, that the ACT itself,
here ascribed to our Lord, was of no small importance; for it is related,
we see, by every one of the four Evangelists. The substance of what we
learn from all of them, compared together, is this: “That Jesus, at two
several times, _once_, before the first Passover which he attended
after the entrance on his ministry, and _again_, before the Passover
which preceded his passion, went up to Jerusalem, and entered into the
_temple_; that is (as all interpreters agree, and as the nature of the
thing speaks) into the _first_, or outermost court of the temple, or
that which was called _the court of the Gentiles_; because the Gentiles,
who acknowledged the one true God, were permitted to come and worship
him there; that in this court (which was separated from the next or
second court by a sept or low wall, and deemed by the Jews _prophane_,
in contempt of the Gentiles, to whose use it was dedicated) _he found
those that sold oxen and sheep and doves, and the changers of money_;
that is, persons who attended there to furnish what was necessary for the
service of the temple, and so made a kind of market, of this first court
or division of it: that, upon observing this prophanation, _he made a
scourge of small cords_, or, as the word in the original strictly means,
of _rushes_, such as he may be supposed to have found upon the spot, and
with this scourge drove these traffickers from their station; signifying,
by this and such like actions, his displeasure at this pollution of a
part of the temple; and saying to them, withall, _It is written, My house
shall be called the house of prayer of all nations: But ye have made it
an house of merchandize_, or, as the equivalent expression is, _a den of
thieves_.”

Thus stands the history itself: And the light in which it is commonly
understood, is this; “That Jesus, in virtue of his prophetic, or, if you
will, _regal_ character, did this act of authority, to testify his zeal
for the honour of God’s house, thus polluted and desecrated, contrary to
its original purpose and design, by the base and commercial uses, that
were now made of it;” and it is probable, that the Disciples themselves,
_at the time_, considered it in this light, only, _for they remembered_,
St. John says, _that it was written, The zeal of thine house hath eaten
me up_—applying a passage out of the Psalms, to this act of zeal in their
master.

It is true, this circumstance is only related by St. John, who records
the _former_ transaction, and omits the _latter_: the reason of this
difference will, perhaps, be seen, as we proceed in our inquiry.

But to this solution of the case some objections have been made.

Besides the strangeness and indecency, as many apprehend, of the
proceeding itself, and the improbability that the persons concerned
in this chastisement, who had public allowance for what they did,
should patiently submit to it (for we hear of no resistance, nor of any
complaint, made by them)—Besides, I say, these obvious considerations,
the act itself was an act of CIVIL POWER, which Jesus always disclaimed,
and for which, it will be said, he had no warrant, either from the
ruling Jews, themselves, or from his regal, or prophetic character: not,
from _the ruling Jews_, who, we know, were offended at his behaviour;
not, from his _regal_ character, which was not of this world; nor yet,
lastly, from his _prophetic_ office: for, though that might authorize
him to declare his sense of this prophanation, it may be thought not to
extend so far as to justify him in disturbing the civil rights of men,
and doing a direct violence to their property and persons. Jesus himself,
we understand, was so tender of _both_, that, upon another occasion,
when it was proposed to him to divide a contested inheritance between
two claimants, he said to the proposer, _Man, who made me a judge, or a
divider over you_[302]? Whence it may seem reasonable to infer, that he
would not have interposed, by an overt act of authority or jurisdiction,
in _this_ case; notwithstanding the reference it had to the honour of
religion, or the right he might have to condemn an abusive practice,
from his spiritual character.

These difficulties seem to shew, that there is something more in the
case, than a mere expression of zeal against the prophaners of the
temple: not but this might be one end, but it could not be the sole or
even principal end, of so extraordinary a transaction.

I do not indeed find, that the ancient commentators on the Gospels have
said any thing to the difficulties, I have mentioned. They seem to have
looked no further than to the obvious sense of this transaction, and to
have acquiesced in the opinion of its being intended to evidence our
Lord’s zeal for the honour of God’s house, without any further view or
purpose whatsoever. They found it related as a matter of fact; and they
piously admitted the authority of Jesus to controul the civil usages
and rights of the Jews, by virtue of his transcendant power and divine
character.

But the moderns have been aware of the objections, which lie against this
interpretation. Our learned Selden, in particular, has an entire chapter,
in his book _De jure naturali et gentium juxta disciplinam Hebræorum_, on
this subject[303]. His notion is, That Jesus exerted this act of power,
in virtue of what the Jews called THE RIGHT OR PRIVILEGE OF ZEALOTS[304];
by which they meant, not a general zeal or indignation (such as is before
spoken of) against what they conceived to be derogatory to the honour
of their religion; but a _right_, strictly so called, derived to them
from the civil institutions and approved usages of their country, of
interfering, in some extraordinary cases, to repel a manifest insult on
their law, by private force, without waiting for the slow process of a
judicial determination.

The principal, or rather sole foundation, on which this notion is
erected, is the case of _Phinehas_, related in the book of NUMBERS[305]:
which the Jews afterwards construed into a _law_, or embraced at least
as a _traditionary_ rule of conduct, derived to them, as they supposed,
from the times of Moses. But this case will by no means bear the
construction, which has been made of it. For,

1. It was a single and very _particular_ case, without any intimation
from the historian, that it was afterwards to be drawn into precedent.

2. It may seem to have been, if not commanded, yet in some measure
authorized, or it was at least, by an express revelation, afterwards
justified. For the matter is thus related. Upon the defection of the
Israelites at Shittim into idolatry, in consequence of their prophane, as
well as impure commerce with _the daughters of Moab_, God sent a plague
among them, and besides commanded Moses to put to death all those who had
been guilty of such abominations. Moses obeyed, and _said unto the judges
of Israel, slay ye every one his men, that were joined unto Baal-Peor_.

This command was issued very properly to the _Judges_: but a _private_
man, _Phinehas, the son of Eleazer, the son of Aaron the priest_,
instigated by his zeal, and presuming perhaps on his relationship to the
high priest (from whose family, a more than ordinary zeal in such a case
might be expected) did, under these circumstances, take upon himself to
execute that command on two persons, surprized in the very act, for which
the penalty had been denounced, in the presence of all the people. Now,
though this proceeding was irregular in itself, yet the notoriety of the
fact, the most atrocious that could be, and the most daring insult on the
divine authority, seemed almost to supersede the necessity of a legal
process. The consequence was, that God himself was pleased to accept and
reward the deed, because the author of it, on such a provocation, and at
such a time, _was zealous for his God, and had made an atonement for the
children of Israel_.

But to argue from a single instance, so circumstanced, that the same
zeal was allowable in other cases, in which no such countenance had
been given, and no such necessity or provocation could be pretended,
is evidently so unreasonable, that no stress ought to be laid on this
argument. The Jews, indeed, in succeeding times, might fancy a general
rule to have been implied in this single instance; and we know from their
history, to what enormous excesses this their easy belief, concurring
with a natural violence of temper, afterwards transported them, during
the last calamities of this devoted people[306]: but our Lord was
very unlikely to give a countenance to their traditions, or to add the
sanction of his authority to a principle, so weakly founded, and so
liable to the worst abuse.

3. This _traffic of the merchants_, in the court of the Gentiles, how
unfit soever it might be, depended on the same authority, as this
pretended _right itself of the zealots_; that is, on the allowed usage
and constant discipline of their country. No express precept of the law
could be alledged for either. So that this _right_ could not be exerted
but at the expence of _another_, equally well founded.

4. Mr. Selden himself appears to have had some distrust of his own
hypothesis, by the care he takes to interweave, in his discourse, a
charge of _fraud_ on the merchants, together with their _prophanation_
of the temple. But the learned writer forgets, that ZELOTISM (if I
may have leave to use a new term) respected _religion_ only, and not
private morals. For even _the act of zeal_, performed by Phinehas (from
which, only, the very idea of this _Jewish right_, if it were one, was
derived) had, for its object, not the _fornication_ simply, but the
_idolatry_, of the criminals: it was a sacrifice, not to the honour of
_virtue_, as such, but to the _honour of God_. And, indeed, nothing but
the singular structure of the Jewish polity, in which the honour of God
was so extraordinarily considered, could give any the least colour to the
_fiction_ of such a right.

5. _Lastly_, whatever degree of credit this principle of _zelotism_ might
have acquired among the Jews, it was very unlikely, perhaps we may say,
impossible, that Jesus should act upon it. When the Disciples, _James_
and _John_, on a certain occasion, were instigated by this _zeal_ to
call for fire from Heaven on the heads of some persons, who had offered
an insult to their master, Jesus himself rebuked them in these terms—_Ye
know not what spirit ye are of: For the Son of man is not come to destroy
men’s lives, but to save them_ [Luke ix. 55.]—To _burn with fire_, is
indeed something more than, _to scourge_: but, though the vengeance be
not equal, in these two instances, the _spirit_ is the same from which
it is derived, and by which it is justified: and this _spirit_, we are
expressly told, is not that by which Jesus chose to conduct himself. It
was to no purpose to alledge the case of a Phinehas, or even an Elias:
these were no precedents for HIM, who _came not to destroy men’s lives,
but to save them_.

I conclude then, upon the whole, that Jesus did not perform this act
of driving the merchants out of the temple, in the Jewish character of
ZEALOT; in what _other_ character he might possibly perform it, I shall
now inquire.

The ingenious conjecture of Mr. Selden, already considered, was
apparently taken up by him to avoid the difficulties which he found
in accounting for this act of zeal in our Lord, from his _prophetic_
character only. These difficulties, he saw very distinctly, and has
explained with much force.

“Though the Saviour of the world, says he, was undoubtedly both God
and King, and, by his absolute dominion, not over the Jews only, but
the whole race of mankind, must be supposed to have had a right of
doing whatever he saw fit to do; yet since we know, that he constantly
submitted himself in all things to the established forms of civil
justice, whether of Jewish, or Roman institution; and, as being desirous
to exhibit in his own person a most absolute example of obedience to
the course of human authority, was careful always to abstain from every
thing, that might be thought a violation of it in any private man; since,
besides, we know, that, considering the peculiar envy, to which his life
was exposed, he could not possibly have gratified his enemies more, than
by putting it in their power to bring a criminal charge against him:
it must, on all these accounts, be thought reasonable to suppose, that
our Lord would not have ventured on so extraordinary an act, as that of
driving the merchants out of the temple, unless it had been such, as,
even in the opinion of those who were most prejudiced against him, he
might lawfully and regularly perform[307].”

All this, the reader sees, is prudently, piously, and ably said, by
this very learned writer; and I readily subscribe to every word of it.
We only differ in our conclusion from these premises. Mr. Selden holds,
that what Jesus did on this occasion, _cannot_ be reconciled to the idea
of his PROPHETIC CHARACTER, as sustained by him in the course of his
ministry: I, on the contrary, conceive, that it very well _may_. But then
I consider that _character_, as exercised by our Lord, at this time, in
_another manner_, and to _other ends_, than the learned writer supposed.

In a word, I see Jesus in the light, not of a ZEALOT, but of a PROPHET
only, in this whole transaction. I see him acting, not on precarious
principles and rabbinical traditions, but on the sure basis of scripture;
and regulating his conduct by the known ideas of his office, such as had
at all times been entertained of it, and were even now familiar to the
Jews in the times in which he lived.

To make way for what I have further to advance on this subject, it will,
then, be necessary to consider, _first_, the PRACTICES AND USAGES of
the Jewish prophets, I mean the _manner_, in which that high office was
sometimes discharged and exercised by them, even to the very times in
question: and, _secondly_, to consider, the true scope and meaning of the
PROPHECY itself, to which Jesus appeals, and on which he justifies this
obnoxious part of his conduct.

1. It is impossible for those, who have read the scriptures of the Old
Testament, not to observe, how much they abound in figures and material
images. Nay, the prophets are frequently represented as instructing
those, to whom they are sent, not in figurative expression only, but in
the way of action and by sensible signs. And this mode of information has
been shewn by learned men[308] to arise from the very nature of language,
in its rude and imperfect state; being indeed an apt and necessary
expedient to supply the defects of speech, under that circumstance. It
has further been made appear, from the history of mankind, that this
practice universally prevailed in all barbarous nations, as well as in
Judæa; nay, that it every where _continued_ to prevail, as an ornamental
method of communication, long after the necessity was over, which had
given birth to it; especially among the inhabitants of the East, to whose
natural vivacity it was so well suited. Hence, the Jewish prophets, it
is said, but conformed to the established practice of their own times,
when they adopted this use of representative action: as, when one Prophet
_pushed with horns of iron_, to denote the overthrow of the Syrians[309];
and another, _broke a potter’s vessel to pieces_, to express the
shattered fortune of the Jews[310]; with innumerable other instances of
the like nature.

This the prophet Hosea calls, using _similitudes by the_ HAND _of the
prophets_[311]; and the effect of it was, to impress the proposed
information on the minds of men with more force (being addressed to their
eyes and senses) than could have been done by a mere verbal explication.

This mode of teaching by signs, then, let it be remembered, was familiar
to the Jewish nation, and prevailed even in the days of Jesus; as is
clear from John the Baptist’s _wearing a garment of camel’s hair, and
eating locusts and wild honey_[312]; to signify the mortification and
repentance, which he was commissioned to preach—from Christ’s _riding
into Jerusalem_[313]; to signify the assumption of his regal office—and
from his directing his disciples to _shake of the dust of their
feet[314], as a testimony against them_, who would not receive his Gospel.

And we find that, sometimes, even a miracle was wrought to furnish a
convenient _sign_—As when Simon’s _draught of fishes_[315], was made
to denote the success he should have in his ministry; according to the
interpretation of Christ himself, who said to him, _Henceforth thou shalt
catch men_—As, again, when Jesus _curst the barren fig-tree_[316], to
signify the unfruitfulness and rejection of the Jewish nation—And, as
when he permitted _the unclean spirits to enter into a herd of swine_,
which, thereupon, _ran violently down a steep place and perished in the
waters_[317]: an exertion of his miraculous power, which, among other
purposes, might be intended to express, in the way of _representation_,
the tyranny of evil spirits, and their attendants, evil habits, over
sensual and voluptuous men (of whom _swine_ are the acknowledged
emblems), and the consequent _perdition in which they drown them_. Nay,
the very parables of our Lord, are but this mode of information, by
material signs, once removed.

It may, further, be observed, that the two Christian Sacraments
themselves are founded on this principle: and so prevalent was the use of
conveying information in this form, that even the Roman Governor, when
he condemned Jesus, _took water and washed his hands[318] before the
multitude_, to signify to them, that he was innocent of that horrid crime.

From all this we may certainly conclude, that it was very customary
in our Saviour’s time for men to express themselves by outward and
visible signs: that this mode of expression was especially of ancient
and approved use among the Prophets, when they would inforce some high
and important topic of instruction: and that, not impossibly therefore,
the famous transaction in the temple may be only an information of this
nature.

If then we would know, what that _information_ was, or, in other words,
what was the peculiar _object_ of it, it will be proper, in the next
place,

2. To turn to the PROPHECY, to which Jesus appeals, and to consider the
true scope and purpose of it.

The prophecies of Isaiah, it is well known, are chiefly taken up in
predicting the future glories of Christ’s kingdom, of which _the call
of the Gentiles_ makes a conspicuous and shining part. This great event
is foretold in a vast variety of places; and in different forms of
expression, one while, plain and direct, at other times, figurative
and obscure. The Messiah is spoken of as _bringing forth judgement to
the Gentiles_; and more clearly still, as _being given for a light to
the Gentiles_[319]. In other places, the expression is ænigmatical;
as where the Heathen are mentioned as _prisoners_, who shall be set
at liberty[320]—as _strangers_, who should build up the walls of
Jerusalem[321]—_as blind people that have eyes, and deaf that have
ears_[322]—and under a multitude of other images.

Full of these ideas, the Prophet begins the fifty-sixth chapter with the
following triumphant exhortation—_Thus saith the Lord, Keep ye judgment,
and do justice, for my salvation is near to come, and my righteousness to
be revealed_; the very language, almost, in which the Baptist afterwards
announced our Saviour to the Jews: whence it may appear, of _what_
salvation the Prophet is here speaking. But to _whom_ is this salvation
promised? Why, in general, to those _who keep the Sabbath from polluting
it_, ver. 2; that is, in the prophetic style, to those who should embrace
the Christian faith: for the _Sabbath_ being the sign or token of God’s
covenant with the Jews, hence the prophets transfer this idea to the
Christian Covenant; and, by _keeping the Sabbath_, they express the
observance of that future covenant, to which mankind should be admitted
under the ministry of Jesus.

But, perhaps, the Jews _only_ were to be admitted to this new covenant
of salvation. The prophet expressly asserts the contrary: for not only
the Jews of the captivity (to whom we are to suppose the course of the
prophecy to be immediately directed) are concerned in this salvation,
but THE SONS OF THE STRANGER, that is, the Gentiles (whom the Jews
always considered under the idea of _Strangers_, just as the Greeks did
the rest of the world, under that of _Barbarians_)—_Even them_ (says
the Prophet, speaking in the person of God) _will I bring to my holy
mountain_, ver. 7, and make them joyful _in my house of prayer: their
burnt-offerings and their sacrifices shall be accepted on my altar_.
The language is still _Jewish_, according to the prophetic style, which
describes the Christian dispensation under Jewish ideas: but by _holy
mountain_ is meant the Church of Christ; and by _Sacrifices_, the
spiritual services of that new œconomy. And, to make this purpose of
his prophecy the clearer, he even departs, in one instance, from his
_legal_ manner of expression, in saying, _I will make them joyful in my_
HOUSE OF PRAYER; which is a spiritual and Christian idea; the Jewish
temple being properly a _house of sacrifice_, and not of _prayer_; for
which last service there is no express precept in the law. And then
follows the prophecy, quoted by Jesus, as explanatory of what he was then
doing—_for mine house shall be called an house of prayer for all people_.
The prophet, as solicitous to be understood, repeats and marks out this
distinction: I spoke of it, says he, as my house of prayer, _For my house
shall_ [in those latter days] _be called_ [that is, shall _be_] a _house
of prayer_, and that too, _for all people_; that is, not for the Jews
only, but for _all the Gentiles_. And, as if all this were not still
clear enough, he adds—_The Lord God, which gathereth the outcasts of
Israel_, the Jews dispersed in the captivity, _saith, Yet I will gather_
OTHERS _to him, besides those that are gathered him_, ver. 8. that is,
the Gentiles.

This famous text, then, is clearly a prediction of the call of the
Gentiles into the Church of Christ, a prediction of that great event
which should take place under the new dispensation, when the Jewish
enclosure was to be laid open, and all men indifferently, the Gentiles,
as well as the Jews, were to be admitted into the Christian covenant.

It is true, our English version of this text, quoted by our Lord, very
much obscures, or rather perverts, its sense. It stands thus in the
Gospel of St. Mark—_My house shall be called of all nations the house of
prayer_, xi. 17. Whence it appears, that our translators considered this
text, as describing only the _destination_ of the Jewish temple, and not
as predicting the _genius_ of the Christian religion. But the scope of
the prophecy, as above explained, and the Greek text itself, clearly
shews that it ought to have been rendered thus—_My house shall be called
a house of prayer for all the Gentiles_: ὁ οἶκός μου, οἶκος προσευχῆς
κληθήσεται πᾶσι τοῖς ἔθνεσιν.

Thus much being premised, both _of the prophetic manner of teaching by
signs_, and _of the true meaning of this prophecy_, let us see now what
light these considerations afford to our present subject.

Jesus enters into that court of the temple, which was called _the court
of the Gentiles_; who had leave to worship the God of Israel there, but
were permitted to advance no further. This _court_, he finds polluted
by the sale of beasts, and the traffic of merchants; the Jews, in their
sovereign contempt of these poor heathen, not only excluding them from
their own place of worship, but debasing them still farther by the
allowance of this sordid society to mix with them. What is the conduct of
our Lord, on this occasion! Why, agreeably to his prophetic character, he
declares himself sent to break through all these exclusive privileges and
distinctions; to accomplish that great mystery, which the old prophets
had so much and so triumphantly spoken of, as reserved to be revealed
by him; and to admit the Heathen to an equal participation of the
blessings, which the Gospel-covenant was to dispense, with the Jewish
people.

But, in what manner does he declare this purpose? Why, he _makes a
scourge of small cords_, and, by the representative action of driving
this prophane company out of the temple, shews that he is come to break
down that partition-wall, which separated the Gentile and the Jewish
worshippers, to vindicate the despised Heathen from the insults offered
to them, and to lay open the means of salvation to all people. _He began
to cast out them that sold therein and them that bought, saying to them,
It is written, My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the
Gentiles._ The action, we see, is used as _expressive_ of his design; and
his _design_ is clearly ascertained, by applying to himself the express
words of Isaiah. The whole is, then, _a prophetic information, by way of
action_, of the genius of Christianity, which was to extend its benefits
even to the Gentiles.

I have before acknowledged, that a _secondary_ purpose of this
transaction might be, to give the Jews to understand, how culpable they
had been in permitting even a lawful traffic to be carried on in any
part of their temple. For it was usual with Jesus to accomplish several
ends by the same act, and even to lay the greatest apparent stress on
that end, which was not first in his intention: of which some examples
may hereafter be given. But the primary design of _this_ act (and but for
the sake of which it would not have been undertaken) I suppose, was, to
point out the diffusive nature and influence of his spiritual kingdom.

It may be said, perhaps, that, if such was the intention of Jesus, it
had been more properly and significantly expressed by a different act, I
mean, by that _of bringing the Heathen into the temple_, rather than _of
driving the merchants out of it_. But we are to reflect, that, as the
Heathen were already permitted to come into this part of the temple (and
it would have given, at this time, too great a shock to the prejudices
of the Jews, to have carried them into any other), that act would have
conveyed no new information; it being on all hands agreed that the
devout Heathen might worship there. The business was, to shew that their
religious privileges were, hereafter, to be the same with those of the
Jews; and that no more contempt was to be countenanced, towards the one,
than the other. All distinctions were to cease; and this information
was, therefore, most fitly conveyed by an act, which expressed the same
regard for the court of the Gentiles, as for the court of the Jews: that
is, the honour of each is equally asserted, and no prophanation allowed
of either.

In further confirmation of the sense, here given to this transaction, it
may be observed, that the relation of it is joined, or rather interwoven
with that other of his _cursing the barren fig-tree_: which was plainly
an emblem, and so is _confessed_ to be, of _the rejection of the Jews_;
just as that we have been considering is _presumed_ to be, of _the
call of the Gentiles_: these two things being closely connected in the
order of God’s dispensations. Whence St. Paul speaks of the one, as the
consequence of the other; of _the fall of the Jews_, as _the riches
of the world_; and of _the loss of the Jews_, as _the riches of the
Gentiles_[323]. Now, if we turn to St. Mark, we there find[324], that the
_fig-tree is cursed_, as Jesus is coming from Bethany to Jerusalem—that,
when he came to Jerusalem, he went into the temple, and _drove out
the money-changers_, &c.—and that the next morning, when he and his
disciples were returning the same way, _as they passed by, they saw the
fig tree dried up from the roots_[325].

If then it be allowed, that Christ meant, by the _sign_ of the blasted
_fig-tree_ (the story of which is so remarkably incorporated with that
other of purging the temple), to express and predict _the rejection of
the Jews_, how natural is it to suppose that, in purging the temple,
he meant to express and predict, by another sign, _the vocation of the
Gentiles_! Or, if there be still any doubt in the case, Christ’s own
parable of the _Vineyard_ (which follows close in the history[326]) will
effectually remove it. For the application of this parable is made by
Christ himself to BOTH these subjects[327]—_What shall the Lord of the
Vineyard do?—He shall come and destroy_ THOSE _husbandmen, and shall give
the Vineyard to_ OTHERS—That is, He shall REJECT THE JEWS, and ADMIT
THE GENTILES: an interpretation, so clear and certain that the Jews
themselves could not avoid seeing it; _for they perceived that he had
spoken this parable against them_.

But I think it appears, from the conduct of the ruling Jews, on occasion
of what had passed in the temple, that it was well understood for _what
general purpose_, and under _what character_, Jesus had exhibited
that extraordinary scene. For they presently come to him, and say,
_By what authority doest thou these things, and who gave thee this
authority[328]?_ That this question relates to _what things_ he had done
in the temple, when he applied the scourge to the merchants, the context
clearly shews; and is indeed beyond all doubt, since we find the same
question put to him, and almost in the same words, when he had performed
this act before, at the first Passover: _Then answered the Jews, and
said unto him, What sign shewest thou unto us, seeing thou doest these
things[329]?_

Now, if the Jews had seen this transaction in the light of an _act
of authority_ or of _violence_ against the persons of the merchants,
it neither agreed with their _character_, nor indeed with their
_principles_, to put this question. _The chief priests and elders of
the people_ are the persons who interrogate Jesus in this manner[330]:
and would they, who constantly _laid wait for him, that they might
accuse him_[331], let slip so fair an opportunity of citing him before
the magistrate, as a disturber of the public peace, and a violater of
their civil rights and customs? Instead of taking this obvious advantage
against him, they at once drop all the malice of their character, and
only ask him, in the way of civil and almost friendly expostulation, _By
what authority he did these things_. It is certain, they never had so
specious a pretence, as this affair administered to them, of bringing a
public accusation against him. Yet it seems never once to have entered
into their thoughts. Nor can it be said, that they stood in awe of the
_people_ (as they sometimes did, when they were enough disposed to lay
hands on him); for the people, in this case, when so free an attack was
made on their privileges, as well as prejudices, would naturally be on
their side.

But neither would their _Principles_ suffer them to put this question.
Jesus had, as they conceived, committed a flagrant act of injustice,
in assaulting the persons of men, who were under the protection of the
state: and they call upon him only for _a sign, since he did these
things_. Is it credible that men, so attached, as they were, to their own
laws and customs, should demand, or accept a _sign_, in such a juncture?
Could all Paul’s miracles justify him, in their opinion, for _not walking
after their customs_[332]? Or, would a _sign_ from heaven, of how
transcendant a nature soever, have absolved Jesus in their apprehension,
from a crime, so palpably proved upon him? They would certainly have
said, as they did say on another occasion, _We have a Law_, which forbids
all offences of this sort; and _by that Law_, he ought to be tried and
judged.

Thus, I think, the matter stands, if the Jews had regarded Jesus, in the
light of a CRIMINAL. On the other hand, if they saw him only in the light
of a PROPHET, of one who _assumed_ that character, and had now, in the
way of his office, employed this act to convey some important information
to them, their conduct was very natural in demanding some proof of his
being what he pretended to be: and that proof, could be no other than a
_sign_, or miracle; which was the proper evidence of his being a person
sent from God. This evidence, indeed, of his prophetic mission had
already been given to the Jews, in the _signs_, or miracles, which he had
wrought among them. But they wanted more than a general conviction of his
being invested with the prophetic character. They were anxious to know by
what _authority_ he did THESE THINGS; in other words, what _Commission_
he had, and how it came to be in his commission, to put the Jews and
Gentiles on a level. A prophet he might be; but not a prophet, authorized
to declare himself so roundly, as by this expressive act he had done,
against the peculiar people of God, and in favour of the despised
heathen. Of his commission to publish such a doctrine, as this, it was no
ordinary _sign_ that would satisfy them. They pressed him, therefore, for
some _sign_, purposely and expressly wrought for this end; some _sign_,
so extraordinary in itself, and so peculiarly adapted to the nature of
the case, as to furnish an immediate and decisive answer to their demand,
_Who gave thee_ THIS _authority_?

This question our blessed Lord thought fit to elude (for reasons, which
will, in part, appear in the progress of this discourse) at both the
times, when it was proposed to him: once, by referring them to the
authority of John the Baptist: and, again, by referring them (but
in ænigmatic terms) to his own resurrection. Yet even _the Baptist_
would have let them into some part of the secret, which they desired
to penetrate; for, knowing the master-prejudice of his countrymen,
he addressed them in these remarkable words—_Think not to say within
yourselves, We have Abraham for our Father: for I say unto you, God is
able even of_ THESE STONES[333] _to raise up children unto Abraham_[334].
And then, for the miracle of his own _resurrection_, that would not only
be the fullest proof of his prophetic mission, but would, at the same
time, be the completion of what he was now signifying to them, by this
prophetic act: for the spiritual kingdom of the Messiah, into which all
the nations were to be admitted, was to take place from that event.
_Destroy_, says he, _this temple_, [meaning, as we are told, _the temple
of his body_] _and in three days I will build it up_[335]. So that,
although Jesus refused to gratify his questioners by working instantly
before them the _sign_, which they demanded: yet he refers them to _such_
a sign, which would be wrought in due time, and to the very purpose
of their inquiry; that is, it would be a sign, which should, _both_,
demonstrate his prophetic commission to declare, by this _significant
act_, the favour which God intended to confer on the Gentiles, and
should, _also_, realize his declaration, or set before them _the thing
signified_. Such is the force of that divine answer—_Destroy this temple,
and in three days I will build it up_.

Where, by the way, we may, further, observe, that the _symbolic
language_, in which he here predicts his resurrection, not being at all
apprehended by the Jews, was afterwards made the foundation of a charge
against him, as if he had entertained the criminal _design_ of destroying
the temple of Jerusalem[336]. How much more would his enemies have laid
hold on this symbolic _act_, which he performed in the temple, in order
to found a charge of sedition against him, if they had not conceived of
him as acting in the character of a _prophet_ only, and so had clearly
comprehended, at least, the _general_ scope and meaning of that act!

That it was taken in this light, I mean, of a _prophetic action_, by
the very persons on whom this seeming outrage was committed, may be
reasonably presumed, since they make no resistance to it, nor complain
of any injury, done them by it: a conduct, very strange and unlikely, if
the parties concerned had received any considerable damage: or if they
conceived that any _intended_ violence had been offered to them. It is
plain, they considered the whole transaction, as a piece of _scenery_, or
representation only; under the cover of which, Christ proposed, in the
manner of the Eastern sages, and especially of the Jewish prophets, to
convey some momentous information to them, and to impress it with much
force and energy on their minds.

Nor can it be concluded from the narration of the Evangelists, that any
thing more was intended by their master. They relate this adventure,
simply as _a matter of fact_; and it could not well be related otherwise,
for the _information_ was given in the _fact_. They intermix, indeed, no
explanation; because they probably saw not, any more than the generality
of the by-standers, the _specific_ information, it was meant to convey.
They only saw, in general, that _some_ information was the end and
purpose of the act. The ruling Jews, who interrogated Jesus concerning
this act, I have no doubt, saw or suspected, at least, the real drift
of it. But, as Jesus could not be brought to explain himself by any
direct answer, they were left to their own conclusions about it: and were
content, we may suppose, to keep these conclusions to themselves: the
rather, as the turn, which our Lord thought fit to give to this act, as
if it respected only the honour of God’s house, put it out of their power
to charge that other meaning, decisively, upon him.

We may further observe, that the _history_ of this fact is not to be
construed with the utmost rigour. Some of the evangelists express
themselves in such terms, as, in the strict sense of them, imply, that
Jesus actually drove all the beasts and traffickers out of the temple.
But we need only suppose that he applied himself to this action, _as
if_ his purpose had been actually to drive them all out: and that he
continued to employ himself in it in such sort, and for so long a time,
as that the persons present might take notice of what he did, and so be
able (I do not say immediately, but in due season) to interpret this
_sign_, together with Isaiah’s _prophecy_, in the manner he intended. I
say, _we need only suppose this_: because if no more was done by Jesus,
the Evangelists, in their concise and simple way of narration would
naturally express themselves, as they have done, their accounts of this
fact; and I believe, if we consider the accounts we have of many other
informations _by action_, recorded in the old Scriptures, we shall
find it necessary to understand them with some such restrictions and
qualifications.

If, after all, it be thought, that some _violence_ was offered to the
merchants, and that some _inconvenience_ was suffered by them, in
consequence of it; I suppose they deserved this punishment for their
pollution of the temple; and I admit that the prophetic character of
Jesus authorized him, in the course of his ministry, to inflict it; just
as, without doubt, it authorized him to destroy the barren _fig-tree_,
when it served his purpose to discharge a part of his office by making
use of that _emblem_, though it might be with some loss to the proprietor
of it. The case was the same here, when he drove the traffickers from
their station. But there is a wide difference between supposing the
_violence_, offered to them, to be the _direct and proper purpose_ of the
act, and the _incidental effect_ of it. And the silence of the merchants
themselves, under this violence, sufficiently shews, as I observed, that
they _felt_ this difference.

But the main difficulty, perhaps, is still behind. For, it will be asked,
Why was this _mysterious_ method used by our Saviour at all, in conveying
the supposed momentous information, when he might have expressed his
meaning _directly_, in plain words?

1. One reason, I suppose, might be, the inveterate and insurmountable
prejudices of the Jewish converts to this part of the Messiah’s
character. For, though the prophets had given frequent, and sometimes
the most clear, descriptions of it: yet, so possessed were they with the
notion of their _being_, and of their _continuing_ to be, even under the
dispensation of their Messiah, a chosen and peculiar people, that they
never could hear (no, not the Apostles themselves, till enlightened by
the holy Spirit, and by a special revelation for that purpose; they could
never hear, I say) without the utmost indignation, _That God had opened
the door of faith to the Gentiles_[337]. This indirect information was
then in condescension to the weakness of his own disciples and followers.

And of this tenderness to their infirmities we have a remarkable instance
in the case of the _fig-tree_, so often mentioned; the drift of which
was unquestionably to denote the approaching _rejection of the Jews_, for
their unfruitfulness under the means of grace, and their rejection of
the Messiah. But, the minds of the disciples being too infirm, at this
time, to bear the open communication of so mortifying a truth, Jesus
purposely diverts them from the main purpose of that miracle (though
it was wrought, and the _sign_ given, for their future information and
recollection) and turns their attention on another and very remote
circumstance, _the efficacy of faith_ to enable them to work this and
greater miracles[338]. But it was a _general_ rule with our Lord to
consult the infirmities of his disciples, and to communicate to them only
so much of his purposes and councils, as they could bear; leaving the
rest to be collected by them, in due time, from casual hints and obscure
passages, when they should afterwards call them to mind, and be in a
condition, under the influence of the holy Spirit, to profit by them.
Thus, in John xvi. 12. _I have yet many things to say to you, but_ YE
CANNOT BEAR THEM NOW: and then refers them to the spirit of truth, for
further information.

Connected with this tenderness for his disciples,

2. A _further_ reason, without doubt, was a prudential regard to the
general _success_ of his ministry, with the rest of the Jews.

For that great event, the call of the Gentiles, was not to take place
during the life of Jesus; _who was sent only to the lost sheep of the
house of Israel_[339]; that is, he was _personally_ to address himself
only to THEM; the conversion of the Heathen being to be effected, after
his ascension, by the ministry of his Apostles and followers. Hence, had
our Saviour plainly unfolded this secret to the Jews, he would certainly
have indisposed them for paying any regard to his mission. And yet, so
important a part of his character was not to be wholly concealed. It was
therefore signified in this covert way; and (being itself a prophecy of
something yet to be deferred) in the mode, and with the usual obscurity,
of a prophetic information.

What I have just now observed of the caution with which our Lord revealed
his purpose of calling the Gentiles, explains the reason why St. John’s
account of the _first_ transaction in the temple, differs so much from
that which the other Evangelists give of the _second_. Jesus had just
entered on his prophetic office, when he used the _sign_ of purging
the temple, of which St. John speaks: he therefore leaves the Jews to
their own interpretation of that sign, saying only, _Take these things
hence; make not my Father’s house an house of merchandize_; as though
a zeal for that house had been his sole inducement to make use of it:
and accordingly the disciples, as I before observed, so understood
him. But, when he thought fit to employ this _significative action_ a
second time, of which the other Evangelists only speak, his ministry
was then drawing to a conclusion. So that he is now less scrupulous of
giving offence, and does all but directly interpret the sign himself, by
referring his hearers to the prophecy of Isaiah, which was the proper
key to it—_He taught them, saying, Is it not written, My house shall be
called the house of prayer for all the nations_[340]? Still, there was
some obscurity, which he did not think fit altogether to remove: but he
had said enough to correct their former hasty conclusion. For we are
not told by those other Evangelists, as we are by St. John, that the
disciples considered what they had seen their Master do, as a pure act
of _zeal_ for the honour of the temple: the prophecy, without doubt,
suggested something to their minds, which led them to apprehend a farther
and higher purpose in that transaction.

3. Lastly, we may suppose, that the information was given in this
_symbolic way_, that, when men saw the event, they might be the more
strongly convinced of its being Christ’s intention it should come to
pass, by calling to mind the sensible and striking manner, in which it
had been predicted by him.

For these, or other reasons, the method here employed by Christ to
signify his intended favour to the Gentiles, might be most proper. In the
mean time, as I said, this intention was not wholly to be concealed: for
then the call of the Gentiles might be deemed an afterthought, and not to
have been originally in his commission. Accordingly, it is intimated very
frequently in our Lord’s discourses to the Jews, and opened more clearly
on many occasions to his Apostles; and was, in truth, so much in his
view, and so constantly present to him, that, as we now find, it was one
of the _first_, and _last_ things he did, to go into the temple, and, by
an expressive sign, to declare his gracious purpose towards the Heathen.

We may, further, observe (so intent was The Divine Providence on
gradually unveiling _the glory of this mystery_[341], as St. Paul terms
it) that the moment our blessed Lord expired on the cross, _the veil of
the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom_: a _sign_, to
some purpose, of that great event which Jesus had foretold, and which God
himself held forth to the astonished Jews, as the clearest emblem of his
purposed favour to the Gentiles; when the Sanctuary itself, as well as
the outermost court of their temple, was thus laid open to the access,
and vindicated to the use, of all nations.

_Finally_, in due time, this purpose was clearly and explicitly made
known to Peter, in his famous vision: and thus it pleased God to
reveal this adorable mystery, “The salvation of the Gentile world,”
(which, though not the _immediate_, was the most important end of
Christ’s commission) by every mode of communication, which he had ever
employed in his intercourse with mankind; by the _word of prophecy_—by
_similitudes_, _by the hand of Jesus_—by an _extraordinary sign from
heaven_—and by _Vision_.

After so minute a commentary on this famous act of _Christ’s driving the
buyers and sellers out of the temple_, may I be permitted to conclude,
that it, now, stands clear of those difficulties, which have been usually
found it?—It was no indecent start of zeal in our Lord: it was no violent
invasion of the rights of any: it was no act of civil authority, usurped
by him: but a _prophetic information_, conveyed in a _prophetic form_,
of an event, the most important to mankind, and to the accomplishment of
his own office and ministry. It was a calm, rational, inoffensive act;
not unworthy the person of our blessed Lord; or, rather, full of that
wisdom, which adorned his character, and shone out in all his conduct and
conversation.


THE END OF THE SEVENTH VOLUME.

Printed by J. Nichols and Son, Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.



FOOTNOTES:


[1] The substance of this Discourse was delivered in a Sermon at
Lincoln’s-Inn, May 15, 1768.

[2] Annal. xii. c. 54. Hist. v. c. 9.

[3] Antiq. Jud. L. xx. c. 5.

[4] Acts xvi. 30.

[5] Heb. iii. 13.

[6] Gen. ii. 17.

[7] Ephes. iii. 11.

[8] 1 Pet. i. 3.

[9] Matth. xx. 28.

[10] 1 Cor. vi. 20.

[11] Heb. ix. 26.

[12] 1 John ii. 2.

[13] 1 Thess. v. 10.

[14] 1 Pet. ii. 24.

[15] 1 Pet. iii. 18.

[16] Heb. ii. 9.

[17] Eph. v. 2.

[18] Rom. v. 9.

[19] 1 Pet. i. 18, 19. 1 Cor. vi. 20.

[20] 1 Cor. xv. 22.

[21] Rev. xiii. 8.

[22] 1 Tim. iv. 10.

[23] 1 Cor. xv. 41.

[24] Matth. xxv. 46.

[25] Phil. ii. 11.

[26] John xv. 15.

[27] John xv. 13.

[28] Matth. xxiii. 8.

[29] Rev. v. 9. 1 Tim. ii. 5.

[30] Acts x. 42.

[31] John iii. 18.

[32] John xx. 28.

[33] John v. 23.

[34] Rom. vi. 22, 23.

[35] 2 Tim. i. 9.

[36] 1 Cor. xv. 22.

[37] Gal. ii. 21.

[38] Heb. xii. 14.

[39] Heb. v. 9.

[40] Eph. iv. 22.

[41] Tit. iii. 5.

[42] Tit. iii. 7.

[43] Eph. iv. 24.

[44] John xvi. 13.

[45] John xvi. 13.

[46] Thess. ii. 13.

[47] Acts ix. 31.

[48] Matth. x. 20.

[49] Gal. iv. 6.

[50] 2 Cor. iii. 17.

[51] Eph. i. 14.

[52] Ps. lxxxiv. 7.

[53] Gen. vi. 3. Rom. viii. 16.

[54] Phil. ii. 13.

[55] 1 Cor. ii. 14.

[56] Athanasian creed.

[57] So the word πρόγνωσιν means in this place; as it likewise does in
Acts ii. 23. where the sense of it is clearly explained and defined
by the words, τῇ ὡρισμένῃ βουλῇ, which introduce it. The participle
προεγνωσμένου has the same sense in 1 Pet. i. 20.

[58] Ch. v. 1. v. 18. And vi. 16, 18.

[59] Heb. v. 9.

[60] See Sermon XXVI. in the preceding volume, p. 378.

[61] 2 Cor. vi. 16. 1 Cor. iii. 16.

[62] ἡ δὲ ἐλπὶς οὐ καταισχύνει. Rom. v. 5.

[63] For which reason it is not necessary for me to enter into the
controversy, that divides the critics, concerning the authentic reading
of this part of the text.

[64] 2 Pet. i. 21.

[65] Matth. i. 18.

[66] Matth. iii. 16.

[67] Matth. iv. i.

[68] Matth. xii. 28.

[69] Rom. i. 4. 1 Pet. iii. 18.

[70] Acts ii. 4.

[71] 1 Cor. xii. 11.

[72] 1 Cor. vi. 11. John xv. 26.

[73] Heb. xii. 22.

[74] 1 Pet. i. 10, 11, 12.

[75] Heb. i. 6.

[76] Luke ii. 13.

[77] Matth. iv. 11.

[78] Luke xxii. 43.

[79] Matth. xxviii, 3. Luke xxiv. 4. ἐν ἐσθήσεσιν ἀστραπτούσαις.

[80] Acts i. 10.

[81] Heb. i. 3.

[82] Milton.

[83] Rom. xvi. 25.

[84] 1 Tim. iv. 10.

[85] Acts xi. 18. ἡσύχασαν.

[86] Acts v. 14.

[87] Luke xvi. 16.

[88] Matth. xi. 12.

[89] Ps. xix. 4. Matth. xxiv. 14.

[90] Acts xix. 20.

[91] Acts ii. 24.

[92] 1 Cor. xv. 28.

[93] 1 Tim. iv. 6. ἐντρεφόμενος τοῖς λόγοις τῆς πίστεως, καὶ τῆς καλῆς
διδασκαλίας.

[94] “What this or that philosopher delivered, was but a saying of his.
Mankind might hearken to it, or reject it, as they pleased; or, as it
suited their interest, passions, principles, or humours. They were under
no obligation; the opinion of this, or that philosopher, was of no
authority.” LOCKE, V. II. p. 578. fol. Lond. 1759.

[95] The Stoics. Ὁ σοφὸς—μόνος εἰδὼς εὔξασθαι. See Casaub. ad Sat. 11.
Persii.

[96] Plato. Alcib. 11.

[97] The Epicureans of old and modern times.

[98]

    —incoctum generoso pectus honesto.
                              PERSIUS.

[99] Luke xvii. 4.

[100] See this argument urged by Mr. Locke, V. II. p. 574. fol. Lond.
1759.

[101] John iii. 19.

[102] Ibid. 20, 21.

[103] John iii. 18.

[104] Ferte fortiter: hoc est, _quo Deum antecedatis_: Ille extra
patientiam malorum est, vos supra patientiam. _Sen. de Prov._ c. vi.

[105] _Cic. Nat. Deor._ iii. 36.

[106] Lord Shaftesbury, and others.

[107] Acts xvii. 31.

[108] Heb. ii. 3.

[109] Mark xvi. 20.

[110] Job xxii. 2.

[111] Hence the name of Theophrastus, or _the divine speaker_, given to
the favourite scholar and successor of Aristotle; And hence the stories
told of Plato, whose eloquence Quintilian so much admired, that he
thought it more than human—_Ut mihi, non hominis ingenio, sed quodam
Delphico videatur oraculo instinctus_. Quintil. l. x. c. 1.—Hence too,
the name of _Chrysostom_, given to the famous Greek Father.

[112] Heb. i. 2.

[113] Phil. ii. 7.

[114] John v. 26.

[115] 1 Cor. i. 30.

[116] Mark i. 22.

[117] John iii. 11.

[118] John xii. 50.

[119] John vi. 40.

[120] Rev. ii. 10.

[121] John v. 26.

[122] John viii. 28.

[123] John xvi. 15.

[124] John x. 30.

[125] _Non imitabile fulmen._ Virg.

[126] Luke ii. 47.

[127] Luke xx. 26.

[128] Luke xx. 40.

[129] See LOCKE’S _Works_, vol. II. fol. p. 545-7. Lond. 1759.

[130] LOCKE’S _Works_, vol. II. fol. p. 543. Lond. 1759.

[131] Every one may observe a good many truths, which he receives at
first from others, and readily assents to, as consonant to Reason, which
he would have found it hard, and perhaps beyond his strength, to have
discovered himself. Native and original truth is not so easily wrought
out of the mine, as we, who have it delivered, ready dug and fashioned
into our hands, are apt to imagine. And how often, &c. LOCKE’S _Works_,
Vol. II. fol. p. 577 and 579. _Lond._ 1759.

[132] Luke v. 22. vi. 8. xi. 17.

[133] Luke vi. 11.

[134] Luke ix. 47.

[135] Luke xxii. 61.

[136] Matthew xxvii. xiv. and xxiv.

[137] John xviii. 4-6.

[138] Luke vii. 40. ix. 47.

[139] Prov. xxi. 1.

[140] Luke xi. 27, 28.

[141] See John ix. 39.

[142] Matth. x. 26, 27.

[143] See D. L. Vol. V. p. 339, &c. Lond. 1765.

[144] D. L. Vol. V. p. 341. n.

[145] See more on this subject in Dr. Warburton’s Sermons, Vol. I. p. 325.

[146] Luke xxiv. 45.

[147] Luke xxiv. 27.

[148] John xvi. 12. Mark iv. 33, 34.

[149] John xi. 47.

[150] Luke iv. 43.

[151] Luke iv. 29.

[152] Matt. x. 23.

[153] Mark vi. 5.

[154] Matth. vii. 6.

[155] Matth. xxvi. 56.

[156] St. Paul. 1 Cor. xv. 9.

[157] St. Peter. Mark xiv. 71.

[158] Luke xxii. 51.

[159] Luke ix. 54.

[160] Luke ix. 46.

[161] See the Essais of _Montaigne_.

[162] Pensées de M. Pascal, c. xvi. § 3.

[163] Acts xxii. 15. and xxvi. 22.

[164] Matthew v. 3.

[165] Compare, _Luke_ vii. 21, 22.

[166] Matthew xv. 6.

[167] Matt. xi. 25.

[168] Luke xviii. 9.

[169] ὄχλος, _the mob_. John vii. 49.

[170] Eph. ii. 12.

[171] Matth. xxii. 15.

[172] Matth. xii. 37.

[173] Luke xix. 48.

[174] John vii. 46.

[175] Matth. vii. 28.

[176] Matth. xii. 23.

[177] Matth. ix. 33.

[178] Matth. ix. 8.

[179] St. James ii. 6, 7.

[180] 1 Cor. i. 26.

[181] ἐσκυλμένοι—_vexati_.

[182] ἐῤῥιμένοι—_projecti_.

[183] Matth. ix. 36.

[184] Matth. xi. 28, 29.

[185] 1 Cor. i. 27-9.

[186] Isaiah lix. 8.

[187] ψεύστης—ἀνθρωποκτόνος—John viii. 44.

[188] Matth. v. 11, 12.

[189] John xiii. 1.

[190] Matth. x. 32, 3. and 38, 9. Luke xiv. 26. 1 John iii. 16.

[191] John xvi. 2, 33.

[192] Matth. vii. 12.

[193] Luke xix. 41. John xi. 35.

[194] ἡ ἐλπὶς τῆς δόξης·—Col. i. 27.

[195] εἰς πᾶσαν τὴν ἀληθείαν.

[196] Rom. i. 21.

[197] Tim. ii. 14 and 16.

[198] Coloss. ii. 18.

[199] 2 Tim. ii. 18.

[200] Rom. xv. 13.

[201] _Divine prescience_, _absolute decrees_, &c.

[202] Bacon, Boyle, Locke, Newton.

[203] Barrow, Clarke, Butler, Warburton, &c.

[204] “It hath been the common disease of Christians from the beginning,
not to content themselves with that measure of faith, which God and the
Scriptures have expressly afforded us: but out of a vain desire to know
more than is revealed, they have attempted to discuss things, of which we
can have no light, neither from reason nor revelation.” J. HALES _Works_,
Vol. I. p. 125. _Glasg._ 1765.

[205] Matth. xiii. 57.

[206] John i. 46.

[207] John vii. 52.

[208] Acts iv. 13. See Whitby on the place.

[209] John vii. 48.

[210] Matth. ix. 11.

[211] Matth. xv. 2.

[212] Luke xxiv. 21.

[213] Acts XIX.

[214] Acts xvii.

[215] Celsus, Porphyry, Julian.

[216] In his famous book, _De Civitate Dei_.

[217] Acts vi. 8.

[218] John xii. 31.

[219] Ephes. ii. 2.

[220] 2 Cor. iv. 4.

[221] James ii. 19.

[222] Gen. iii. 14, 15.

[223] Matth. xxv. 41.

[224] Eph. ii. 2.

[225] James iv. 7.

[226] Matth. xvii. 21.

[227] 1 Pet. v. 9.

[228] John xii. 31.

[229] Luke x. 18.

[230] Job i. 12.

[231] Matth. viii. 21.

[232] Luke ix. 1. and x. 17.

[233] Luke x. 18.

[234] John xiii. 2.

[235] ἀπὸ τοῦ πονηροῦ· Matth. vi. 13.

[236] 1 John iv. 4.

[237] 1 Cor. x. 13.

[238] Heb. ii. 14.

[239] St. John iii. 8.

[240] Rom. viii. 26.

[241] Eph. xiv. 16.

[242] Eph. xi. 2.

[243] 1 Peter v. 8.

[244] τοῦ πονηροῦ· Eph. vi. 16.

[245] Eccles. i. 17. and vii. 25.

[246] SIGNA, TABULAS PICTAS, VASA CÆLATA MIRARI—reckoned, by the
philosophical historian, among the prognosticks of falling Rome.

[247] Homo, res sacra. Seneca.

[248] Neque enim ita generati à naturâ sumus, ut ad ludum et jocum facti
esse videamur; sed ad severitatem potiùs, et ad quædam studia graviora
atque majora.
                                                       Cic. Off. L. i. 29.

[249] Fastidio illis esse cœpit vita, et ipse mundus; et subit illud
rabidarum deliciarum, QUOUSQUE EADEM? Seneca, de tranq. anim. c. xi.

[250] SAPIENS, SIBIQUE IMPERIOSUS—are convertible terms in the moral poet.

[251] Val. Max. IV. 3.

[252] 1 Cor. ix. 25.

[253] Ludo—uti quidem licet; sed, sicut somno et quietibus cæteris, tùm
cùm gravibus seriisque rebus satisfecerimus.
                                                       Cic. Off. L. i. 29.

[254] Exod. xxi. 24.

[255] John xviii. 22, 23.

[256] χιτῶνα.

[257] ἀγγαρεύσει. See Grotius on the place.

[258] Luke xii. 57.

[259] Acts xvi. 37. xxv. 11.

[260] Matth, v. 11. x. 23. xxvi. 52. From the two last passages we learn,
that the Jewish persecutors of Christ and his disciples were reserved for
a _special_ vengeance of Heaven; to be inflicted upon them in no long
time, and here predicted, as it seems, to let the disciples know why, in
this case, _resistance_ was forbidden, God having taken the matter into
his own hands.

[261] The accomplishment of prophecy is given by Jesus himself as
one reason, why he forbad resistance to the Jews—_how then shall the
Scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be_, i. e. that the violence
of the Jews should prevail? Matth. xxvi. 54.

[262] Prov. xiii. 10.

[263] Ch. viii. 38.

[264] Mark xvi. 16.

[265] St. John xii. 48.

[266] John iv. 17.

[267] John iii. 20.

[268] John xi. 47. Acts iv. 16.

[269] Mark vi. 3.

[270] John vii. 41. i. 46.

[271] John vii. 48.

[272] John xii. 42.

[273] John xii. 43.

[274] 1 Cor. i. 23.

[275] Luke viii. 13.

[276] Mark x. 17, 23.

[277] Jer. xvii. 9.

[278] Public Baptism, disused.

[279] The Lord’s Supper, neglected.

[280] Family Prayer, omitted.

[281] 2 Tim. i. 8.

[282] 1 John ii. 28.

[283] See Bp. Warburton’s DOCTRINE OF GRACE, Ch. ix.

[284] 1 John iv. 2.

[285] 2 Tim. ii. 18.

[286] 1 Peter ii. 23.

[287] Gen. xvii. 5.

[288] Gen. xxxii. 28.

[289] Ἅδης, or _death_ [see Grotius in loc.] is here personized: and,
the gates of cities, being anciently the places of counsel and judgment,
as well as their chief defence and strength, hence the _gates of death_
are the power and policy, which this person should employ to accomplish
his ends: which is, in other words, to say, that those ends, or
_destruction_, should by no means be effected.

[290] Acts ii. 14.

[291] Acts x. and xv. 7.

[292] An ancient apologist for Christianity seems to think, that, if
a sect of philosophy had been persecuted, as Christianity was, it
would presently have vanished out of the world. His words are—τὴν μὲν
φιλοσοφίαν τὴν Ἑλληνικὴν ἐὰν ὁ τυχὼν ἄρχων κωλύσῃ, οἴχεται παραχρῆμα·
[Clemens Alexandr. Strom. L. vi. p. 827. Oxon. 1715.] Perhaps, the
learned father was mistaken. But a religion, founded on facts, not on
opinions, and persecuted from the beginning, could not have supported
itself, if those facts had been false. This is the case of Christianity.
The subsequent persecutions, when the truth of Christianity was admitted
on the credit of the first martyrs, might tend to advance this religion,
even though it had been originally an imposture. The difference of the
two cases is palpable. The Apostles shewed, by their sufferings, that
they _knew_ what they attested to be a true fact: Succeeding sufferers
shewed, that they _believed_ it to be so.

[293] 1 Peter i. 11.

[294] Of Persecution. John xvi. 2.

Of Heresies. Acts xx. 30. 1 Cor. x. 19.

Of Mahomet’s impiety, ix. 1-12. See Mede.

Of the great Apostasy. 2 Thess. ii. &c.

Of these, and other woes still to come. The Revelation, _passim_.

[295] 1 Peter i. 25.

[296] Matth. vii. 24, 25.

[297] Acts xxvi. 26.

[298] Τοσοῦτός ἐστι τῶν ὑπ’ αὐτῶν γεγραμμένων ὁ γέλως, ὥστε ἀφανισθῆναι
καὶ τὰ βιβλία πάλαι, καὶ ἅμα τῷ δειχθῆναι, καὶ ἀπολέσθαι τὰ πολλά. Εἰ δέ
που τὶ καὶ εὑρεθείη διασωθὲν, παρὰ Χριστιανοῖς τοῦτο σωζόμενον εὕροι τις
ἄν. Tom. II. p. 539. Ed. Bened.

[299] “The Christian religion,” says the finest of our English writers,
whom I need not therefore stay to name, “made its way through paganism
with an amazing progress and activity. Its victories were the victories
of reason, unassisted by the force of human power, and as gentle as the
triumphs of light over darkness.”

[300] This effect of inquiry upon the Gentile religions was foreseen
by men of sense—_Non sunt ista_ [the traditionary tales of the heathen
Gods] _vulgo disputanda, ne susceptas publicè religiones disputatio talis
extinguat_. Cic. Frag. Olivet. T. III. p. 586.

[301] The substance of this Discourse was delivered in a Sermon at
Lincoln’s-Inn, May 15, 1768.

[302] Luke xii. 14.

[303] L. iv. c. 5.

[304] And to the same purpose, our excellent Archbishop Tillotson—“His
[Christ’s] whipping of the buyers and sellers out of the temple, the only
action of his life in which there appears any transport of anger, was no
other than a BECOMING ZEAL for the honour of God’s house, which he saw
so notoriously prophaned; which zeal was WARRANTED, after the example of
Phinehas, by the extraordinary occasion of it.” Works, vol. iii. § 136.
p. 222.

[305] _Numbers_, ch. xxv.

[306] JOSEPHUS, _De Bello Judaico_, l. iv. c. 12.

[307] Certè, quamquam Servator humani generis et Deus et Rex erat,
adeoque ita universi, nedum Judæorum, dominus, ut quicquid ei placeret
illud non licitum fuisse nefas sit putare; attamen, cum cæteras res
omnes etiam et seipsum receptis atque stabilitis reipublicæ formulis
judiciariis, qua Ebraicæ eæ essent, qua Romanæ, permiserit, atque
absolutissimum justitiæ exemplar ab omni vi illicitâ, veluti privatus,
abstinere voluerit; quin et tanta ei imminuerit invidia, ut nihil magis
incidentium in votis esset, quam ut cujuscunque delicti reum eum peragere
potuissent; haud rationi sane ita consonum videtur existimare ejectionem
illam factam seu vim illatam ab eo fuisse sine agnitâ, etiam ab ipsis qui
tam malignè ei invidebant, lege seu more, quo in id genus homines templi
sanctitatem ita polluentes incurrere licuerit, atque vi ejicere. L. iv.
c. 5. p. 464.

[308] Mr. Smith’s Discourses, _Disc._ vi. ch. vi. Bishop Chandler,
_Def. of Christianity_, ch. iii. § 1. and, very lately, the Bishop of
Gloucester, _Div. Leg._ b. iv. § 4.

[309] 1 Kings xxii. 11.

[310] Jeremiah xix.

[311] Hosea xii. 10.

[312] Matth. iii. 4.

[313] Mark xi. 7.

[314] Matth. x. 14.

[315] Luke v. 6.

[316] Mark xi. 14

[317] Matthew viii. 32.

[318] Matthew xxvii. 24.

[319] Isaiah xlii. 1, 6.

[320] Ibid. ver. 7.

[321] Isaiah lx. 10.

[322] Chap. xliii. 8.

[323] Rom. xi. 12.

[324] Mark xi. 14.

[325] Mark xi. 15-20.

[326] Mark xii. Luke xx. Matth. xxi.

[327] Luke xx. 16-19.

[328] Matthew xxi. 23.

[329] John ii. 18.

[330] Matthew xxi. 23.

[331] Luke xi. 54.

[332] Acts xxi. 21.

[333] By _these stones_, the ancient interpreters universally understood
_the Gentiles_. See Whitby _in loc._

[334] Matt. iii. 9.

[335] St. John, ch. ii. 19.

[336] Matthew xxvi. 61.

[337] Acts xiv. 27.

[338] Mark xi. 21, 24.

[339] Matthew xv. 24.

[340] Mark xi. 17.

[341] 1 Coloss. i. 27.


[Transcriber’s Note:

Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.

Greek words beginning with ϖ have had the character replaced with π.]



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