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  WRITINGS OF JOHN A JAMES - VOLUME 1
  by John A. James
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A collection of theological writings, sermons, and essays by John A. James
(Volume 1), compiled for study and devotional reading.

  Chapters: 99

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS
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    1. 01.00. A Help to Domestic Happiness
    2. 01.01.    The Family Constitution
    3. 01.02.     On the MUTUAL Duties of Husbands and Wives
    4. 01.03.     The Special Duties of HUSBANDS
    5. 01.04.     The Special Duties of WIVES
    6. 01.05.     The FORMATION of the Marriage Union
    7. 01.06.     The duties of PARENTS
    8. 01.06.     The duties of PARENTS contd
    9. 01.07.     The duties of CHILDREN to their parents
   10. 01.08.     Duties of brothers and sisters
   11. 01.09.     Duties of SERVANTS
   12. 02.00. AN EARNEST MINISTRY—The Need of the Times
   13. 02.01.     THE APOSTOLIC MINISTRY
   14. 02.02.     THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS
   15. 02.02.     THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS contd
   16. 02.03.     EARNESTNESS IN THE MANNER OF PREACHING
   17. 02.04.     ILLUSTRATIONS OF EARNESTNESS
   18. 02.05.     EARNESTNESS IN THE DELIVERY OF SERMONS
   19. 02.06.     EARNESTNESS IN THE PASTORATE
   20. 02.07.     EXAMPLES OF EARNESTNESS
   21. 02.08.     MOTIVES TO EARNESTNESS
   22. 02.08.     MOTIVES TO EARNESTNESS contd
   23. 02.09.     MEANS OF OBTAINING AN EARNEST MINISTRY
   24. 02.10.     NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCE
   25. 03.00. CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP
   26. 03.01.     Nature of a Christian Church
   27. 03.02.     Nature and Design of Christian Fellowship
   28. 03.03.     Privileges of Membership
   29. 03.04.     General Duties of Church Members
   30. 03.05.     Duties of Church Members to Each Other
   31. 03.06.     Duties of Church Members to Other Christia
   32. 03.07.     The Pastor's WIFE
   33. 03.08.     DEACONS
   34. 03.09.     Christian PARENTS
   35. 03.10.     YOUNG Christians
   36. 03.11.     RICH Christians
   37. 03.12.     POOR Christians
   38. 03.13.     Christian TRADESMEN
   39. 03.14.     The True Nature of Church Power
   40. 03.15.     Mode of Conducting Church Meetings
   41. 03.16.     Admission of Members to the Church
   42. 04.00. CHRISTIAN HOPE
   43. 04.00p.    Preface
   44. 04.01.     ON HOPE, CONSIDERED GENERALLY
   45. 04.02.     ON THE NATURE OF CHRISTIAN HOPE, AND
   46. 04.03.     THE FOUNDATION OF HOPE
   47. 04.04.     THE OBJECT OF HOPE
   48. 04.05.     SALVATION BY HOPE
   49. 04.06.     THE ASSURANCE OF HOPE
   50. 04.07.     THE AUTHOR OF HOPE
   51. 04.08.     HOPE AS AN ANCHOR
   52. 04.09.     HOPE CONSIDERED AS A HELMET
   53. 04.10.     A GOOD HOPE THROUGH GRACE
   54. 04.11.     A LIVING HOPE
   55. 04.12.     A PATIENT HOPE
   56. 04.13.     A PURIFYING HOPE
   57. 04.14.     A HOPE THAT MAKES NOT ASHAMED
   58. 04.15.     THE HARMONY BETWEEN HOPE AND FEAR
   59. 04.16.     HOPE ONLY IN THIS LIFE
   60. 04.17.     THE HOPE OF THE HYPOCRITE
   61. 04.18.     HOPE IN DEATH
   62. 04.19.     THE NECESSITY AND MEANS OF STRENG
   63. 05.00. CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
   64. 05.00i.    INTRODUCTION
   65. 05.01.     NECESSITY of Christian Progress
   66. 05.02.     NATURE of Christian Progress
   67. 05.03.     The MEANS of Christian Progress
   68. 05.04.     MISTAKES Concerning Christian Progress
   69. 05.05.     HINDRANCES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
   70. 05.05.     HINDRANCES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS contd
   71. 05.06.     MOTIVES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
   72. 05.07.     ENCOURAGEMENTS TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
   73. 06.00. Female Piety—The Young Woman's Guide
   74. 06.00i.    Introduction
   75. 06.01.     The Influence of Christianity on the Condi
   76. 06.02.     The Conspicuous Place Which Woman
   77. 06.03.     Woman's Mission
   78. 06.04.     EARLY PIETY
   79. 06.05.     CHRISTIAN ZEAL
   80. 06.06.     THE PARENTAL HOME
   81. 06.07.     LIFE AWAY FROM HOME
   82. 06.08.     THE CHARACTER OF REBEKAH
   83. 06.09.     THE ORNAMENTS OF A PROFESSION
   84. 06.10.     THE CHARACTERS OF MARTHA
   85. 06.11.     TO YOUNG MOTHERS
   86. 07.00. JEWELS from JAMES
   87. 07.01     Volume 1
   88. 07.01     Volume 1 cont'd
   89. 07.02.     Volume 2
   90. 07.02.     Volume 2 cont'd
   91. 07.03.     Volume 3
   92. 07.03.     Volume 3 cont'd
   93. 07.04     Volume 4
   94. 07.04.     Volume 4 cont'd
   95. 07.05.     Volume 5
   96. 07.05.     Volume 5 cont'd
   97. 07.06.     Volume 6
   98. 07.06.     Volume 6 cont'd
   99. 07.07.     Volume 7

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  CHAPTER 1: 01.00. A HELP TO DOMESTIC HAPPINESS
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A Help to Domestic Happiness by John A. James, 1828

"Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Husbands, love your
wives and do not be harsh with them. Children, obey your parents in everything,
for this pleases the Lord. Fathers, do not embitter your children, or they will
become discouraged." Colossians 3:18-21 The Family Constitution On the MUTUAL
Duties of Husbands and Wives The Special Duties of HUSBANDS The Special Duties
of WIVES The FORMATION of the Marriage Union The duties of PARENTS The duties of
CHILDREN to their parents Duties of brothers and sisters The duties of SERVANTS


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  CHAPTER 2: 01.01.    THE FAMILY CONSTITUTION
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The Family Constitution A family! How delightful the associations we form with
such a word! How pleasing the images with which it crowds the mind, and how
tender the emotions which it awakens in the heart! Who can wonder that domestic
happiness should be a theme dear to poetry, and that it should have called forth
some of the sweetest strains of fancy and of feeling? Or who can be surprised,
that of all the objects which present themselves in the vista of futurity to the
eye of those who are setting out on the journey of life, this should excite the
most ardent desires, and engage the most active pursuits? But alas! of those who
in the ardor of youth start for the possession of this dear prize, how many
fail? And why? Because their imagination alone is engaged on the subject—they
have no definite ideas of what it means, nor of the way in which it is to be
obtained. It is a mere lovely creation of a romantic mind, and oftentimes, with
such people, fades away like a dream.

It may be of service, therefore, to lay open the sources of domestic happiness,
and to show that these are to be found, not in the flowery regions of
imagination—but in the sober realities of piety, chaste love, prudence, and well
formed relationships . These precious springs are within the reach of all who
will take the right path that leads to them—and this is the way of knowledge. We
must make ourselves acquainted with the nature, designs, and importance of the
family unit—we must analyze this relationship to ascertain its elements, its
laws, and its purposes. Who can be a good member of any state, without knowing
the nature of its constitution, and the laws by which it is directed? And it is
equally vain to look for domestic happiness, without a clear insight into the
ends and laws which God has laid down for the formation of the household. In the
discussion which have been agitated to settle the question as to the form of
civil government best adapted to secure the welfare of the human race, the
FAMILY CONSTITUTION has been too much overlooked. Speculation has been indulged,
and theories proposed by their respective authors, in reference to the greater
aggregations of society, with all the confidence of oracular authority; while at
the same time, it is evident they have forgotten how much the well-being of
societies are dependent on the well being of the families of which all societies
are composed. While individuals are the materials of which a nation is formed,
it is the good condition of families that constitutes the cement which holds it
together, and gives to it its fine form, solidity and durability. Let this be
lacking, and however inherently excellent the materials, however elegant the
shape, however ornamented the base, the shaft, or the capital may be—it contains
in itself the principle of decay, an active cause of dilapidation and ruin! The
family constitution is a divine institute. God formed it himself. "He takes the
solitary and sets him in families;" and like all the rest of his works, it is
well and wisely done. When directed as it should be, every family has a sacred
character, inasmuch as the head of it acts the part of both the prophet and the
priest of the household, by instructing them in the knowledge, and leading them
in the worship of God; while at the same time, he discharges the duties of a
king, by supporting a system of order, subordination and discipline. Conformably
with its nature is its design—beyond the benefit of the individuals which
compose it, and which is its first and immediate object, it is intended to
promote the welfare of the national community to which it belongs, and of which
it is a part—hence every nation has stamped a great value on the family unit,
and guarded it with the most powerful sanctions.

Well instructed, well ordered, and well governed families, are the springs,
which send forth the tributary streams that make up the majestic flow of
national greatness and prosperity—nor can any state be prosperous, where family
order and subordination are generally neglected; nor otherwise than prosperous,
whatever be its political forms, where these are generally maintained. It is
certainly under the wise instruction, and the impartial scepter of a father, and
within the little family circle, that the son becomes a good citizen; it is by
the fireside and upon the family hearth, that loyalty, and patriotism, and every
public virtue grows; as it is in disordered families, that factious demagogues,
and turbulent rebels, and tyrannical oppressors, are trained up to be their
neighbour’s torment, or their country’s scourge. It is there that the thorn and
the brier, to use the elegant simile of the prophet, or the myrtle and the fir
tree are reared, which are in future time to be the ornament and defense, or the
deformity and misery of the land.

But, has the family constitution a reference only to the present world and its
perishable interests? By no means! All God’s arrangements for man, view him, and
are chiefly intended for him, in his relation to eternity. The eye of Deity is
upon that immortality to which he has destined the human race. Every family has
in fact a sacred character belonging to it, which may indeed be forgotten or
disdained; but the family is constituted, and ought, therefore, to be conducted
with the prospect of the rising generation following that which precedes it, not
only to the grave but to eternity.

Every member of every household is an immortal creature; everyone that leaves
the circle by death, goes into an eternity of torment or of bliss. Now since all
the institutes of God look to the eternal world as their chief and ultimate
reference, surely, surely, that institute which is the most powerful of all in
the formation of character, must be considered as set up with a special
intention to prepare the subjects of it for glory, honor, immortality, and
eternal life.

"No one judges aright of this household unit, nor can any be in a capacity
rightly to perform its duties, who does not consider this double relation which
it bears to the state and to the church, and who does not view it as a
preparatory system, for training up the good citizen and the real Christian. And
for these objects, how great is the power which it really possesses—how
considerable is the mutual influence of husbands and wives in molding each
other’s tastes, or modifying each other’s dispositions; of parents, in forming
the character of their children and servants; and of brothers and sisters, in
stimulating and guiding each other’s pursuits. The power of other constitutions
is remote, occasional and feeble; but this is close, constant and mighty. With
other systems the character is only casually brought into contact; but this
always touches us. We live, and move, and have our being in the very center of
it. So powerful is the influence of this association on its members, that it has
preserved them, by the blessing of God, in the possession of piety and morality,
in times and places of the greatest corruption of manners. On what vantage
ground does the conscientious Christian parent here stand! The springs of public
and social life may be greatly corrupted; the nation in which he dwells may
degenerate into licentiousness, into idolatry, or into the most daring
infidelity. Retiring then to this sacred enclosure, he may entrench himself, and
there, lifting up a standard for God, either wait the approach of better days,
or leave a few behind him, on whom the best blessings of those days will
certainly descend. Though the heavens be shut up and there be no dew, the little
enclosure which he cultivates, like the fleece of Gideon, will discover evident
marks of the Divine favor. It actually seems as though in the wide scene, where
the vices of the age may and can reign triumphant, this were some secure and
sacred retreat, into which they cannot, dare not enter." (Mr. Anderson, in
support and illustration of this beautiful sentiment, brings forward the
families of the Kenites, and the Rechabites, whose history he traces, and shows
it to be like a pure and vigorous stream, urging its course through a turbid
lake, with the waters of which it refuses to blend, and maintaining its own
characteristic, amid surrounding impurity.)

It must be evident, however, that the great ends of the family economy, cannot
be kept in view, nor the moral power of it displayed, unless the heads of it
rightly understand their duty, and have a disposition properly to perform it.
They must be Christians in reality—or no Christian government can be maintained.
Where religion is lacking as the basis of their union, these happy fruits of it
cannot be expected. The inferior and secondary object may be accomplished in the
absence of parental piety, though neither so certainly, nor so effectually; but
as to the more sublime and permanent end of the family constitution, which
connects its members with the church of God on earth, and with the company of
the redeemed in heaven, this cannot be looked for, where the father and the
mother are destitute of true religion.

Oh, how many interesting households are to be found, where all the mere social
virtues are cultivated with assiduity, where the family charities all flourish,
and public excellence is cherished, but which, on account of the lack of vital
godliness, are still losing the highest end of their union, are carrying on no
preparatory course of education for heaven, and are destined to be swept away
with the wreck of the nations that know not God, and with the wicked who shall
be turned into hell! Alas, alas! that from such sweet scenes, such lovely
retreats of marital love and family peace, to which learning, science, wealth,
elegance, have been admitted, religion should be excluded; and that while many
wise and interesting guests are continually welcomed to the house, He only
should be refused, who blessed the little family of Bethany; and who, wherever
he goes, carries salvation in his train, and gives immortality to the joys which
would otherwise perish forever!

Precious, indeed, are the joys of a happy family; but, oh, how fleeting! How
soon, must the circle be broken up, how suddenly may it be! What scenes of
delight, resembling gay visions of fairy bliss, have all been unexpectedly
wrapped in shadow and gloom, by misfortune, by sickness, by death! The last
enemy has entered the paradise, and by expelling one of its tenants, has
embittered the scene to the rest; the ravages of death have been in some cases
followed by the desolations of poverty, and they who once dwelt together in the
happy enclosure, have been separated and scattered to meet no more. But
religion, true religion, if it is possessed, will gather them together again,
after this destruction of their earthly ties, and conduct them to another
paradise, into which no calamity shall enter, and from which, no joy shall ever
depart!

Happy then would it be, for all who stand related by these household ties, if
the bonds of nature were hallowed and rendered permanent, by those of divine
grace. To found our union on any basis which does not contain religion in its
formation, is to erect it on quicksand, and to expose it to the fury of a
thousand billows, each of which may overturn the fabric of our comfort in a
moment! But to rest it upon religion, is to found it upon a rock, where we shall
individually still find a refuge, when the nearest and the dearest relations are
swept away by the tide of death.

It is a pleasing reflection, that the family constitution depends not for its
existence, its laws, its right administration, or its rich advantages, either
upon family possessions, or the forms of national policy. It may live and
flourish in all its tender affections, and all its sweet felicities, and all its
moral power, in the cottage as well as in the mansion; under the shadow of
liberty, and even under the scorching heat of tyranny. Like the church of which
it is in some respects the emblem, it accommodates itself to every changing form
of surrounding society, to every nation, and to every age. Forming with the
church the only two institutions ever set up by God, as to their framework; like
its kindred institute, it remains amid the ruins of the fall, the lapse of ages,
and the changes of human affairs, the monument of what has been, the standing
prediction of what shall be. Tyrants who crush the liberties of a state, cannot
destroy the constitution of the family—and even persecutors who silence the
preacher, and scatter the congregation, cannot hush the voice of parental
instruction, or extinguish parental influence. Religion, hunted and driven by
human power from the place of public concourse, would still find a retreat, as
it often has done under such circumstances, in the household of faith; and there
would keep alive, upon the family altar, that holy fire with which the
sacrifices of the temple, under happier auspices, shall be offered. Neither
families, nor the church of the redeemed, shall ever be entirely lost, whatever
changes the world may yet have to pass through. To all, therefore, who are
united in the bonds of this relationship, I offer the consideration of these
pages; which prescribe duties, and present advantages, belonging alike to all.
Family happiness, in many respects, resembles the manna which was granted to the
Israelites, in the wilderness; like that precious food, it is the gift of God
which comes down from heaven—it is not to be purchased with money; it is
dispensed alike to the rich and to the poor, and accommodates itself to every
taste; it is given with an abundance that meets the needs of all who desire
it—to be obtained, it must be religiously sought in God’s own way of bestowing
it; and is granted to man as a refreshment during his pilgrimage, through this
wilderness, to the celestial Canaan.


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  CHAPTER 3: 01.02.     ON THE MUTUAL DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES
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On the MUTUAL Duties of Husbands and Wives

"Wives, submit to your husbands, as is fitting in the Lord. Husbands, love your
wives and do not be harsh with them."

Marriage is the foundation of the family constitution—this, says the Apostle,
"is honorable in all;" and he has condemned, "as a doctrine of devils," the
opinions of those by whom it is forbidden. It is an institute of God, it was
established in Eden, was honored by the personal attendance of Christ, and
furnished an occasion for the first of that splendid series of miracles, by
which he proved himself to be the Son of God, and the Savior of the world. But
there is another mark of distinction put upon it by the Holy Spirit, where it is
said, "This is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the Church."
Ephesians 5:32. Paul here represents the marital union as a type or symbol of
the close and endearing relation in which the church stands to its divine
Redeemer. Nothing can throw a higher sanctity over this relationship, nor invest
it with greater honor than such a view of it. Distinguishing, as it does, man
from brutes; providing not only for the continuance, but for the comfort of our
species; containing at once, the source of human happiness, and of all those
virtuous emotions and generous sensibilities, which refine and adorn the
character of man, it can never as a general subject be guarded with too much
solicitous vigilance, nor be contracted, in particular instances, with too much
prudence and care. In proportion to the importance of the relationship itself,
must be a right view and a due performance of the obligations arising out of it.

First. There are duties common to both husband and wife.

Secondly. There are duties more particularly enjoined upon each. My first object
will be to state those duties which are common to BOTH husband and wife.

1. The first which I mention, and which is the ground of all the rest, is LOVE.

Let this be lacking, and marriage is degraded at once into a brutal or a sordid
relationship. This duty which, though for reasons we shall consider in due
place, is especially enjoined on the husband, belongs equally to the wife. It
must be mutual, or there can be no happiness—no happiness for the party which
does not love, for how dreadful the idea of being chained for life to an
individual for whom we have no affection; to be almost ever in the company of a
person from whom we are driven back by revulsion, yet driven back upon a bond
which prevents all separation and escape. Nor can there be any happiness for the
party that does love; such an unrequited affection must soon expire, or live
only to consume that wretched heart in which it burns. A married couple without
mutual love, is one of the most pitiable spectacles on earth. They cannot, and,
indeed, in ordinary circumstances, ought not to separate—and yet they remain
united only to be a torment to each other! They serve one important purpose,
however, in the history of mankind; and that is, to be a beacon to all who are
yet unmarried, to warn them against the sin and folly of forming this union upon
any other basis than that of a pure and mutual attachment; and to admonish all
who are married, to watch with most assiduous vigilance, their mutual love, that
nothing be allowed to damp the sacred flame. As the marriage union should be
formed on the basis of love, so should great care be taken, especially in the
early stages of it, that nothing might arise to unsettle or loosen our
attachments. Whatever knowledge we may obtain of each other’s tastes and habits
before marriage—it is neither so accurate, so comprehensive, nor so impressive,
as that which we acquire by living together; and it is of immense consequence,
that when little defects are first noticed, and trivial faults and oppositions
first occur, they should not be allowed to produce an unfavorable impression
upon the mind. The remarks of Bishop Jeremy Taylor, in his inimitably beautiful
sermon, entitled "The Marriage Ring," are so much in point, that I shall
introduce a long extract in reference to this idea—"Man and wife are equally
concerned to avoid all offences of each other in the beginning of their
marriage; every little thing can blast an infant blossom; and the breath of the
soft south wind can shake the little rings of the vine, when first they begin to
curl like the locks of a new weaned boy; but when by ripening they stiffen into
the hardness of a stem, and have by the warm rays of the sun, and the kisses of
heaven, brought forth their clusters—they can endure the storms of the harsh
north wind, and the loud noises of a tempest, and yet never be broken—so are the
early unions of an unfixed marriage; watchful and observant, jealous and busy,
inquisitive and careful, and apt to take alarm at every unkind word. For
infirmities do not manifest themselves in the first scenes, but in the
succession of a long relationship; and it is not chance or weakness when it
appears at first, but it is lack of love or prudence, or it will be so
expounded; and that which appears bad at first usually affrights the
inexperienced man or woman, who makes unequal conjectures, and fancies mighty
sorrows, by the proportions of the new and early unkindness. It is a very great
passion, or a huge folly, or a certain lack of love, that cannot preserve the
beauties of kindness, so long as public honesty requires a man to wear their
sorrows for the death of a friend. After the hearts of the man and the wife are
endeared and strengthened by a mutual confidence and experience, longer than
artifice and pretense can last, there are a great many remembrances, and some
things present, that dash all little unkindnesses in pieces.

"Let man and wife be careful to stifle little irritations—that as fast as they
spring, they be cut down and trod upon; for if they be allowed to grow by
numbers, they make the spirit peevish, and the relationship troublesome, and the
affections loose and uneasy, by all habitual annoyance. Some men are more vexed
with a fly than with a wound; and when the gnats disturb our sleep, and the
reason is disturbed, but not perfectly awakened, it is often seen that he is
fuller of trouble than if in the daylight of his reason he were to contest with
a potent enemy. In the frequent little incidents of a family, a man’s reason
cannot always be awake; and when his discourses are imperfect, and a trifling
trouble makes him yet more restless, he is soon betrayed to the violence of
passion. It is certain that the man or woman are in a state of weakness and
folly then, when they can be troubled with a trifling accident; and therefore it
is not good to vex them when they are in that state of danger. In this case, the
caution is, to subtract fuel from the sudden flame; for stubble though it be
quickly kindled, yet it is as soon extinguished, if it be not blown by a
pertinacious breath, or fed with new materials. Add no new provocations to the
incident, and do not inflame this, and peace will soon return, and the
discontent will pass away soon, as the sparks from the collision of a flint—ever
remembering that discontents proceeding from daily little things, do breed a
secret indiscernible disease, which is more dangerous than a fever proceeding
from a discerned notorious malady."

If they would preserve love, let them be sure to study most accurately each
other’s tastes and distastes, and most anxiously abstain from whatever, even in
the minutest things, they know to be contrary to them.

If they would preserve love, let them most carefully avoid all curious, and
frequently repeated distinctions of MINE and YOURS—for this has caused all the
laws, and all the suits, and all the wars in the world—let them who have but one
person, have also but one interest. Instances may occur in which there may and
must be, a separate investiture of property, and a sovereign independent right
of disposal in the woman—in this case, the most anxious care should be taken by
the husband, not to attempt to invade that right, and by the wife neither
ostentatiously to speak of it, nor rigidly to claim it, nor selfishly to
exercise it. In ordinary cases, "they should be heirs to each other, if they die
childless; and if there be children, the wife should be with them a partner in
the inheritance.

2. MUTUAL RESPECT is a duty of married life; for though, as we shall afterwards
consider, especial respect is due from the wife—yet is respect due from the
husband also. As it is difficult to respect those who are not entitled to it on
any other ground than superior rank or common relationship, it is of immense
consequence that we should present to each other that conduct which deserves
respect and commands it. Moral esteem is one of the firmest supports and
strongest guards of love—and a high degree of excellence cannot fail to produce
such esteem. We are more accurately known to each other in the marriage
relationship, than either to the world, or even to our own children. The
privacies of such a relationship lay open our motives, and all the interior of
our character; so that we are better known to each other than we are to
ourselves. If therefore, we would be respected, we should be respectable.
Charity covers a multitude of faults, it is true; but we must not presume too
far upon the credulity and blindness of affection; there is a point beyond which
even love cannot be blind to the crimson coloring of a guilty action. Every
piece of real sinful conduct, the impropriety of which cannot be mistaken, tends
to sink us in each other’s esteem, and thus to remove the safeguards of
affection.

Perhaps this has not been sufficiently thought of in wedded life, the parties of
which have been sometimes anxious merely to cover their delinquencies from the
world, forgetful that it is a dreadful thing to lose their mutual respect. It is
delightfully striking to observe, how some married couples of eminent moral
worth, regard each other; what respect is blended with their love, and how like
to angel forms of heavenly excellence they appear to one another. In all the
conduct of the marital state then, there should be the most marked and unvarying
mutual respect even in little things—there must be no searching after faults,
nor examining with microscopic scrutiny, such things as cannot be concealed; no
reproachful epithets; no crude contempt; no incivility; no cold neglect—there
should be courtesy without ceremony; politeness without formality; attention
without slavery; it should in short, be the tenderness of love, supported by
esteem and guided by politeness. And then, we must maintain our mutual
respectability before others—strangers, friends, children, must all respect us
from what they see in our own behavior. It is in the highest degree improper,
for either husband or wife, to do an action, to say a word, or assume a look,
that shall have the remotest tendency to lower the other in public esteem.

3. MUTUAL ATTACHMENT TO EACH OTHER’S SOCIETY, is a common duty of husband and
wife.

We are united to be companions; to live together, to walk together, to talk
together. The husband is commanded "to dwell with the wife according to
knowledge." "This," says Mr. Jay, "intends nothing less than residence, opposed
to absence and roving. It is absurd, for those who have no expectancy of
dwelling together, to enter this state—and those who are already in it, should
not be unnecessarily abroad. Circumstances of various kinds will doubtless
render occasional excursions unavoidable; but let a man return as soon as the
design of his absence is accomplished, and let him always travel with the words
of Solomon in his mind, ’As a bird that wanders from her nest, so is a man that
wanders from his place.’ Can a man while from home discharge the duties he owes
to his household? Can he discipline his children? Can he maintain the worship of
God in his family? I know it is the duty of the wife to lead the devotion in the
absence of the husband; and she should take it up as a cross, if not for the
time as a privilege. Few, however, are thus disposed, and hence one of the ’home
sanctuaries’ of God for weeks and months together is shut up. I am sorry to say
that there are some husbands who seem fonder of any society than the company of
their wives. It appears in the disposal of their leisure hours. How few of these
are appropriated to the wife! The evenings are the most family periods of the
day. To these the wife is peculiarly entitled—she is now most free from her
numerous cares, and most at liberty to enjoy reading and conversation. It is a
sad reflection upon a man when he is fond of spending his evenings abroad. It
implies something bad, and it predicts something worse." And to insure as far as
possible the society of her husband, at his own fireside, let the wife be "a
keeper at home," and do all in her power to render that fireside as attractive
as kind temperament , neatness, and cheerful, affectionate conversation can make
it; let her strive to make his own home the soft green on which his heart loves
to repose in the sunshine of family enjoyment. We can easily imagine that even
in Paradise, when man had no apparition of guilt, no visions of crime, no
spectral voice from a troubled conscience, to make him dread solitude and flee
from it—that even then, Adam liked not, on his return from the labor of dressing
the garden, to find Eve absent from their bower, but lacked the smile of her
countenance to light up his own, and the music of her voice to be the melody of
his soul.

Think, then, how much more in his fallen estate, with guilt upon his conscience,
and care pressing upon his heart, does man now, on coming from the scenes of his
anxious toil, need the aid of woman’s companionship, to drive away the swarm of
buzzing cares which sting his heart; to smooth the brow ruffled with sadness; to
tranquillize the bosom agitated with passion; and at once to reprove and comfort
the mind that has in some measure yielded to temptation. O woman! you know the
hour when the "good man of the house" will return at midday, while the sun is
yet bowing down the laborer with the fierceness of his beams, or at evening,
when the heat and burden of the day are past—do not let him, at such a time,
when he is weary with exertion, and faint with discouragement, find, upon his
coming to his habitation, that the foot which should hasten to meet him, is
wandering at a distance; that the soft hand which should wipe away the sweat
from his brow, is knocking at the door of other houses; nor let him find a
wilderness, where he should enter a garden; confusion, where he ought to see
order; or filth that disgusts, where he might hope to behold neatness that
delights and attracts.

If this be the case, who can wonder, that in the anguish of disappointment, and
in the bitterness of a neglected and heart-stricken husband, he turns away from
his own door, for that comfort which he wished to enjoy at home, and that
society which he hoped to find in his wife, and puts up with the substitutes for
both, which he finds in the houses of other men, or in the company of other
women. United to be partners then, let man and wife be as much in each other’s
society as possible.

There must be something wrong in family life, when they need the assistance of
balls, plays and card parties to relieve them from the tedium produced by home
pursuits. I thank God, I am a stranger to that taste, which leads a man to flee
from his own comfortable parlour and the society of his wife, from the
instruction and recreation contained in a well stored library, or from the
evening rural walk, when the business of the day is over, to scenes of public
amusement, for enjoyment; to my judgment, the pleasures of home, and of home
society, when home and home society are all that could be desired, are such as
never cloy, and need no change, but from one kindred scene to another. I am
sighing and longing, perhaps in vain, for a period when society shall be so
elevated and so purified; when the love of knowledge will be so intense, and the
habits of life will be so simple; when religion and morality will be so
generally diffused, that men’s homes will be the seat and circle of their
pleasures; when in the society of an affectionate and intelligent wife, and of
well educated children, each will find his greatest earthly delight; and when it
will be felt to be no more necessary to happiness, to leave their own fireside,
for the ballroom, the concert, or the theatre, than it is to go from the
well-spread home table to the public feast, to satisfy the cravings of a healthy
appetite—when will it be no longer imposed upon us to prove that public
amusements are improper, for they will be found to be unnecessary. But the
pleasures of home must not be allowed to interfere with the calls and claims of
public duty. Wives must not ask, and husbands must not give that time which is
demanded for the cause of God and man. This is an age of active charity, and the
great public institutions which are set up, cannot be kept in operation without
great sacrifices of time and leisure by very many people. Those who by their
wisdom, talents, rank, or property, receive the confidence of the public, must
stand prepared to fill up and conduct the executive departments of our
societies; nor should they allow the soft allurements of their own houses, to
draw them away from what is obviously the post of duty.

We have known some, who, until they entered into wedded life, were the props and
pillars of our institutions, yield so far to the solicitations of their new and
dearest earthly friend, as to vacate their seat at the board of management
forever after. It is, I admit, a costly way of contributing to the cause of
religion and humanity, to give those evening hours which could be spent so
pleasantly in a country walk, or in the joint perusal of some interesting
volume; but who can do good, or ought to wish to do it without sacrifices? I
know an eminently holy and useful minister, who told the lady to whom he was
about to be united, that one of the conditions of their marriage was, that she
should never ask him for that time, which, on any occasion, he felt it to be his
duty to give to God. And surely, any woman might feel herself more blessed in
having sometimes to endure the loss of a husband’s society, whose presence and
talents are coveted by all public institutions, than in being left to the
unmolested enjoyment of the company of one whose assistance is coveted by none.

4. MUTUAL FORBEARANCE is another common duty of husbands and wives. This we owe
to all, not excepting the stranger, or an enemy; and most certainly it must not
be denied to our nearest friend. "Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous
or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not
irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad
about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up,
never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance."
For this love there is both need and room in every relation of life. Wherever
sin or imperfection exists, there is scope for the patience of love. There is no
perfection upon earth. Lovers, it is true, often fancy they have found it; but
the more sober judgment of husbands and wives generally corrects the mistake;
and first impressions of this kind, usually pass away with first love.

We should all enter the married state, remembering that we are about to be
united to a sinful person--and it is not two ’angels’ that have met together,
but two ’sinful people’, from whom must be expected much weakness and
selfishness. We must expect some imperfection in our spouse. Remembering that we
ourselves have no small share of sinfulness, which calls for the forbearance of
the other party, we should exercise the patience that we ask from them. Where
both have infirmities, and they are so constantly together, innumerable
occasions will be furbished, if we are eager or even willing to avail ourselves
of the opportunities for those contentions, which, if they do not produce a
permanent suppression of love, lead to its temporary interruption. Many things
we should overlook, others we should pass by with an unprovoked mind, and in all
things most carefully avoid even what at first may seem to be an innocent
disputation.

Love does not forbid, but actually demands that we should mutually point out the
faults of our spouses; but this should be done in all the meekness of wisdom
united with all the tenderness of love, lest we only increase the evil we intend
to remove, or substitute a greater one in its place. Justice, as well as wisdom,
requires that in every case, we set the good qualities against the bad ones, and
in most cases we shall find some redeeming excellencies, which, if they do not
reconcile us to the failings we deplore, should at least teach us to bear them
with patience; and the more we contemplate these better aspects of the
character, the brighter will they appear—for it is an indubitable fact, that
while faults diminish, virtues magnify in proportion as they are steadily
contemplated. As to bitterness of language, and harshness of conduct, this is so
utterly disgraceful, and in the circle which I am accustomed to instruct,
altogether so unusual, that it scarcely needs be introduced even by way of
cautioning against it.

5. MUTUAL ASSISTANCE is the common duty of husbands and wives. This applies to
the cares of life. Women are not usually very conversant with matters of trade,
but still their counsel may be sought in a thousand cases with propriety and
advantage. The husband should never undertake anything of importance, without
communicating the matter to his wife; who, on her part, instead of shrinking
from the responsibility of a counselor, and leaving him to struggle alone with
his difficulties and perplexities, should invite him to communicate freely all
his concerns; for if she cannot counsel, she can comfort; if she cannot relieve
his cares, she can help to bear them; if she cannot direct the course of his
trade, she may assist the current of his feelings; if she cannot open any source
of earthly wisdom, she can spread the matter before the Father of wisdom. Many
men under the idea of delicacy to their wives, keep all their difficulties to
themselves, which only prepares them to feel the stroke the heavier when it does
come. And then, as the wife should be willing to help the husband, in matters of
business, he should be willing to share with her the burden of family concerns
and fatigue. Some go too far, and utterly degrade the female head of the family,
by treating her as if her honesty or ability could not be trusted in the
management of the family economy. They keep the money, and dole it out as if
they were parting with their life’s blood, grudging every dollar they dispense,
and requiring an account as rigid as they would from a dishonest employee—they
take charge of everything, give out everything, interfere in everything. This is
to rob a woman of her authority, to thrust her from her proper place, to insult
and degrade her before her children and servants.

Some, on the other hand, go to the opposite extreme, and take no share in any
domestic concerns. My heart has ached to see the slavery of some devoted, hard
working, and ill used wives; after laboring all day amid the ceaseless toils of
a young and numerous family, they have had to pass the hours of evening in
solitude; while the husbands, instead of coming home to cheer them by their
society, or to relieve them for only half an hour of their fatigue, have been
either at a party or a sermon—and then have these hapless women had to wake and
watch the whole night over a sick or restless babe, while the men whom they
accepted as the partner of their sorrows, were sleeping by their side, unwilling
to give a single hour of their slumber, though it was to allow a little repose
to their toil-worn wives. Why, even the irrational creatures shame such men; for
it is a well known fact, that the male bird takes his turn upon the nest during
the season of incubation, to allow the female time to renew her strength by food
and rest; and with her also, goes in diligent quest of food, and feeds the young
ones when they cry. No man should think of marrying, who does not stand prepared
to share, as far as he can do it with his wife, the burden of family cares.

They should be helpful to each other in the concerns of personal religion. This
is clearly implied in the Apostle’s language. "How do you know, wife, whether
you will save your husband? Or, how do you know, husband, whether you will save
your wife?" (1 Corinthians 7:16.) Where both parties are unconverted, or only
one of them is yet a partaker of true piety, there should be the most anxious,
judicious, and affectionate efforts for their salvation. How heathenish a state
is it to enjoy together the comforts of marriage, and then travel in company to
eternal perdition; to be mutual comforters on earth, and then mutual tormentors
in hell; to be companions in felicity in time, and companions in torment through
eternity! And where both spouses are real Christians, there should be the
exercise of a constant reciprocal solicitude, watchfulness, and care, in
reference to their spiritual and eternal welfare. One of the ends which every
true believer should propose to himself, on entering the marriage state, is to
secure one faithful friend, at least, who will be a helpmate for him in
reference to the eternal world, assist him in the great business of his soul’s
salvation, and that will pray for him and with him; one that will affectionately
tell him of his sins and his defects, viewed in the light of a Christian; one
that will stimulate and draw him by the power of a holy example, and the sweet
force of persuasive words; one that will warn him in temptation, comfort him in
dejection, and in every way assist him in his pilgrimage to the skies. The
highest end of the marital state is lost, if it be not rendered helpful to our
piety; and yet this end is too generally neglected, even by professors of
religion. Do we converse with each other as we ought on the high themes of
redemption by Christ, and eternal salvation? Do we study each other’s
dispositions, snares, troubles, decays in piety, that we may apply suitable
remedies? Do we exhort one another daily, lest we should be hardened through the
deceitfulness of sin? Do we practice faithfulness without censoriousness; and
administer praise without flattery? Do we encourage one another to the most
quickening and edifying means of grace, and recommend the perusal of such
instructive and improving books as we have found beneficial to ourselves? Do we
mutually lay open the state of our minds on the subject of personal religion,
and state our perplexities, our joys, our fears, our sorrows? Alas, alas! who
must not blush at their neglects in these particulars? And yet such neglect is
as criminal as it is common. Fleeing from the wrath to come, and yet not doing
all we can to aid each other’s escape! Contending side by side for the crown of
glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life, and yet not doing all we can to
ensure each other’s success! Is this love? Is this the tenderness of marital
affection? This mutual help should extend to the maintenance of all the habits
of family order, discipline, and piety. The husband is to be the prophet,
priest, and king of the family, to instruct their minds, to lead their
devotions, and to govern their tempers; but in all that relates to these
important objects, the wife is to be of one mind with him. They are in these
matters, to be workers together, neither of them leaving the other to labor
alone, much less opposing or thwarting what is done. "When the sun shines, the
moon disappears; when he sets, she appears and shines; so when the husband is at
home, he leads family worship, when he is absent, the wife must always take his
place."

Some men refer the instruction of young children exclusively to their wives; and
some wives, as soon as the children are too old to be taught upon the knee,
think that they are exclusively the subjects of paternal care. This is a mistake
in the important economy of the family—the members of which are never too young
to be taught and disciplined by the father—nor to old to be admonished and
warned by the mother; he may sometimes have a great influence in developing the
childish tempers of the younger branches; while her soft persuasive accents may
have delightful power to melt or break the hard and stubborn hearts of older
ones. Thus they who have a joint interest in a family, must attend to them in
the exercise of a joint labor.

They must be helpful to each other in works of humanity and religious
benevolence. Their mutual influence should be exerted, not in restraining, but
in stimulating zeal, compassion, and liberality. What a beautiful picture of
family life is drawn by the pen of the Old Testament historian. "One day Elisha
went to the town of Shunem. A wealthy woman lived there, and she invited him to
eat some food. From then on, whenever he passed that way, he would stop there to
eat. She said to her husband, "I am sure this man who stops in from time to time
is a holy man of God. Let us make a little room for him on the roof and furnish
it with a bed, a table, a chair, and a lamp. Then he will have a place to stay
whenever he comes by." One day Elisha returned to Shunem, and he went up to his
room to rest." (2 Kings 4:8-11.) Every part of this scene is lovely. The
generous and pious wish of the wife to provide accommodation for a destitute and
dependent prophet; her prompt and prudent effort to interest her husband in the
scheme of her benevolence—her discreet and modest keeping of her place in not
acting without his permission; her dignified claim of a right to be associated
with him in his work of mercy, for said she, let us make a little make a little
room for him on the roof—all is delightful, and as it should be, on her part—and
no less so on the part of the man; for there was no surly refusal, no proud
rejection of the plan, because it did not originate with him, no covetous plea
for setting it aside, on the ground of expense.

Delighted, as every husband should be, to gratify the benevolent wishes, and
support the liberal scheme of his wife, so far as prudence will allow, he
consented; the little chamber was erected, and furnished by this holy pair, and
soon occupied by the prophet; and never was a generous action more speedily or
more richly rewarded. Elisha had no means of his own, by which to acknowledge
the kindness; but He who said in after times, "he who receives a prophet in the
name of a prophet, shall receive a prophet’s reward," took upon himself, as he
does in every instance, the cause of his necessitous servant, and most
munificently repaid the generous deed. A lovelier scene is not to be found on
earth, than that of a pious couple, employing their mutual influence, and the
hours of their retired companionship, in stirring up each other’s hearts to
deeds of mercy and religious benevolence; not Adam and Eve in Paradise, with the
unspotted robes of their innocence about them, engaged in propping the vine, or
trailing the rose of that holy garden, presented to the eyes of angels a more
interesting spectacle than this. What a contrast does such a couple present, to
the couples which are almost everywhere to be found, whose deliberations are not
what they can save from unnecessary expense to bestow upon the cause of God and
humanity—but what they can abstract or withhold from the claims of benevolence,
to lavish upon splendid furniture, or family luxuries. Are there no wives who
attempt to chill the ardor, to limit the beneficence, to stint the charities of
their husband; who, by their incessant and irritable, and almost quarrelsome
suggestions, that he is doing too much for others, and too little for his own
family—drive the good man, notwithstanding he is master of his own property, to
exercise his liberality in secret, and bestow his charities by stealth? And what
is oftentimes the object of such women? nothing more than the pride of ambition,
or the folly of vanity. Only that they might have these gifts of charity, to
spend upon dress, furniture, and parties!

Perhaps the question will be asked, whether it is proper for a wife to give away
the property of her husband in acts of humanity, or religious benevolence? Such
an enquiry ought to be unnecessary; for no woman should be driven to the
alternative of either doing nothing for the cause of God and man, or doing what
she can by stealth. A sufficient sum ought to be placed at her disposal, to
enable her to enjoy the luxury of doing good. Why should not she not shine forth
in her peculiar and separate glory, instead of being always lost in the radiance
of her husband’s bounty? Why should she have no sphere of benevolent effort? Why
should husbands monopolize to ourselves these blessings? It is degrading a
married female to allow her no discretion in this matter, no liberty of
distribution, no power to dispense, even in cases that concern her sex—but to
compel her to beg first of a husband, that which others come to beg of her.

If, however, she be unhappily united to a Nabal, a churl, whose sordid,
grasping, covetous disposition, will yield nothing to the claims of humanity or
religion, may she then make up for the deficiency of her husband, and diffuse
his property unknown to him? I am strongly tempted to answer this question in
the affirmative; for if in any instance we may deviate from the ordinary rule,
and taking the man at his own word, which he uttered when in the solemn act of
matrimony, he said, "with all my worldly goods I endow to you," may invest the
wife with a joint proprietorship, and a right of appropriation, it is in such a
case as this. But still, we must not sacrifice general principles to special
cases; and therefore, I say to every female in such circumstances, obtain if you
can, a separate and fixed allowance for charitable distribution; but if even
this be not possible, obtain one for general personal expenses, and by a most
rigid frugality, save all you can from dress and decoration, for the hallowed
purpose of relieving the miseries of your fellow creatures.

6. MUTUAL SYMPATHY is required by both husband and wife.

SICKNESS may call for this, and women seem both formed and inclined by nature to
yield sympathy. If we could do without a wife and be happy in health, what are
we in sickness without her presence and her tender offices? Can we smooth, as
woman can, the pillow on which the sick man lays his head? No! We cannot
administer the medicine or the food as she can. There is a softness in her
touch, a lightness in her step, a skill in her arrangements, a sympathy looking
down upon us from her beaming eye, which ours needs. Many a female, by her
devoted and kind attentions in a season of sickness, has drawn back to herself
that cold and alienated heart, which neither her charms could hold, nor her
claims recover.

I entreat you, therefore, married women, to put forth all your power to soothe
and please in the season of your husband’s sickness. Let him see you willing to
make any sacrifices of pleasure, ease, or sleep, to minister to his comfort. Let
there be a tenderness in your manner, a wakeful attention and sympathy in your
look, a something that seems to say, your only comfort in his affliction, is to
employ yourselves in alleviating it. Hearken with patience and kindness to the
tale of his lighter and even of his imaginary woes. A cold, heartless, awkward,
unsympathizing woman, is an exception from the general rule, and therefore a
severer libel upon her sex. Nor is this sympathy exclusively the duty of the
wife; but belongs equally to the husband. He cannot, it is true, perform the
same offices for her, which she can discharge for him—but much he can do, and
all he can he should do. Her sicknesses are generally more numerous and heavy
than his; she is likely, therefore, to make more frequent calls upon his tender
interest and attention. Many of her ailments are the consequence of becoming his
wife—she was, perhaps, in full vigor, until she became a mother, and from that
time, never had a moment’s perfect ease or strength again. That event which sent
into his heart the joys of a parent—dismissed from her frame the comforts of
health. And shall he look with discontent, and indifference, and insensibility,
upon that ’delicate flower’, which, before he transplanted it into his garden,
glowed in beauty and in fragrance, to the admiration of every spectator? Shall
he now cease to regard it with and pleasure, or sympathy, and seem as if he
wished it gone, to make room for another, forgetting that it was he who sent the
worm to the root, and caused its head to droop, and its colors to fade?

Husbands, I call upon you for all the skill and tenderness of love, on behalf of
your wives, if they are weak and sickly. Watch by their couch, talk with them,
pray with them, wake with them—in all their afflictions, be afflicted. Never
listen heedlessly to their complaints and oh, by all that is sacred in marital
affection, I implore you, never, by your cold neglect, or petulant expressions,
or discontented look, to call up in their imaginations, unusually sensitive at
such a season, the phantom of a fear, that the disease which has destroyed their
health, has done the same for your affection. Oh! spare their bosom the
agonizing pangs of supposing that they are living to be a burden to your
disappointed heart. The cruelty of that man needs a name, and I know of none
sufficiently emphatic, who denies his sympathy to a suffering woman, whose only
sin is a broken constitution, and whose calamity is the result of her marriage.
Such a man does the work of a murderer, without his punishment, and in some
instances, without his reproach; but not always without his design or his
remorse. But sympathy should be exercised by man and wife, not only in reference
to their sicknesses, but to all their AFFLICTIONS, whether personal or relative;
all their sorrows should be common—like two strings in unison, the chord of
grief should never be struck in the heart of one, without causing a
corresponding vibration in the heart of the other; or, like the surface of the
lake answering to the heaven, it should be impossible for calmness and sunshine
to be upon one, while the other is agitated and cloudy—heart should answer to
heart, and face to face.

Such are the duties common to both husband and wife; the obligations peculiarly
enjoined upon each, will be the subject of the next chapter.


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  CHAPTER 4: 01.03.     THE SPECIAL DUTIES OF HUSBANDS
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The Special Duties of HUSBANDS

"Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up
for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the
word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or
wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands
ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves
himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for
it, just as Christ does the church--for we are members of his body. ’For this
reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the
two will become one flesh.’ This is a profound mystery--but I am talking about
Christ and the church." Ephesians 5:22-32.

Observe the sublime and transcendently interesting fact which stands amid the
duties of family life, as stated by the apostle, in the language quoted above,
like the sun in the center of the planets, illuminating, impelling, and uniting
them all. Every part of this most comprehensive and beautiful passage is
inimitably striking. The design of the whole, is to magnify Christ’s love to the
church; in order to this, the moral condition of the church, previous to the
transforming work of redeeming grace, is supposed to be that of loathsome
impurity; yet, notwithstanding this, Christ exercises the tenderest compassion
for her welfare, and is not repelled by excessive defilement. To effect her
redemption, he does not merely employ the operations of his power and of his
wisdom, but surrendered himself into the hands of divine justice, that as a
sacrifice of atonement, he might ransom the object of his love at the price of
his blood; thus manifesting an affection stronger than death, and "which many
waters could not quench." The ultimate design of this act of mysterious
humiliation, is to render her in some measure worthy of his love, and fit for
that indissoluble union with himself, into which, as his illustrious bride, she
was about to be received. For this purpose, the efficient influences of the Holy
Spirit were to be poured upon her mind, that in the cordial reception of the
truth, she might be purified from iniquity, have the germ of every virtue
implanted in her heart, and the robe of righteousness spread over her frame;
until at length, under the dispensations of his providence, the means of his
grace, and the sanctifying agency of his Spirit, the last spot of moral
defilement might be effaced, the last wrinkle of spiritual decay removed, and
like the "king’s daughter, all glorious within—and with her clothing of wrought
gold," she might be presented, covered with the beauties of holiness, to the
Lord Jesus, in that day, "when he shall come to be admired in his saints, and
glorified in all those who believe."

Behold, what manner of love is this!! And it is this most amazing, this
unparalleled act of mercy, that is employed by the apostle, as the motive of all
Christian conduct. He knew nothing of moral philosophy, if by this expression be
meant, the abstract principles of ethics. He left as he found them, the grounds
of moral obligations—but he did not enforce virtue by a mere reference to our
relations to God as creatures, but by a reference to our relation to Christ as
redeemed sinners. He fetched his motives to good works from the cross! He made
the power of that to be felt, not only on the conscience as supplying the means
of pardon, but upon the heart, as furnishing the most cogent, and at the same
time the most intimating argument for sanctification—he not only irradiates the
gloom of despondency, or melts the stubborn obstinacy of unbelief, or stays the
reckless progress of despair, by inspiring a feeling of hope, no! But by the
death of a crucified Savior, and an exhibition of his most unbounded compassion,
he attacks the vice of the depraved heart, and inculcates all the virtues of the
renewed mind. The doctrine of the cross is the substance of Christian truth, and
the great support of Christian morals—and the apostle’s mind and heart were full
of it. Does he enforce humility? it is thus—"Let the mind be in you which was in
Christ Jesus." Does he enforce an unreserved devotedness to God? it is thus—"You
are not your own; for you are bought with a price; therefore glorify God with
your body and with your spirit, which are his." Does he enforce brotherly love?
it is thus—"Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and
sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us,
we ought also to love one another." Does he enforce a forgiving temper? it is
thus—"Be kind one to another, tender hearted, forgiving one another, even as God
for Christ’s sake has forgiven you." Does he enforce benevolence to the poor? it
is thus—"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though he was
rich, for our sakes became poor, that we, through his poverty might be made
rich." (Php 2:5; 1 Corinthians 6:20; 1 John 4:10-11; Ephesians 4:32; 2
Corinthians 8:9.) And who but an apostle would have thought of enforcing marital
affection by a reference to the love of Christ to his Church? Yet he has done
this—and has thus represented redeeming love as a kind of holy atmosphere,
surrounding the Christian on all sides, accompanying him everywhere, sustaining
the spiritual existence, the very element in which his religion lives, moves,
and has its being. And this indeed, is religion—not a name, not a creed, not a
form, not an abstract feeling, not an observance of times and places, not a mere
mental costume, or holy dress which we put on exclusively for certain seasons
and occasions—no! but a moral habit, a mental taste, the spirit of the mind,
which will spontaneously appear in our language, feeling, and behavior, by a
reference to Jesus Christ, as the ground of hope, and the model for imitation!
In stating the duties especially enjoined on the two parties in the marital
union, I shall begin with those of the HUSBAND. He is commanded to LOVE his
wife. As we have already shown, that this is a duty of both parties, the
question very naturally arises, "For what reason is it so especially enjoined
upon the husband? Why is he so particularly bound to the exercise of affection?
Perhaps for the following reasons—

1. Because in the very nature of things he is most in danger of failing in his
duty. Placed by the Creator as the "head of the wife," and invested with a
certain right to govern his household, he is more in peril of merging the tender
sensibilities, in the predominant consciousness of superiority.

2. Because he is actually more deficient in this duty than the other party. This
has ever been the case, in Pagan and Mahometan countries. In barbarous nations,
especially, the husband’s affection has ever been exceedingly weak, and it is
probable, that even in the more civilized countries of Greece and Rome, it was
not so generally strong and steady, as it has since been made by Christianity.
But without even going beyond the limits of Christendom, it may be truly said,
that husbands are usually more deficient in love than wives—the latter, in my
opinion, excel the former in tenderness, in strength, in constancy of affection.

3. Because a lack of love on the part of the man, is likely to be attended with
more misery to the other party—for he can go to greater excesses in violence, in
cruelty, in depravity. The lack of this tender passion in him is likely to have
a still worse effect upon his own character and the peace of the wife, than the
lack of it in her; in either case, a destitution of this kind, is a melancholy
thing—but in him, it is on several accounts the most to be dreaded. The apostle
lays down two models or rules, for a husband’s affection; the one is, the love
which Christ has manifested for his church; and the other, the love which a man
bears for himself. In directing your attention to the first, I shall exhibit the
properties of Christ’s love, and show in what way our affection should be
conformed to his.

Christ’s love was SINCERE. He did not love in word only, but in deed, and in
truth. In him there was no deceitfulness; no epithets of endearment going forth
out of untruthful lips; no actions varnished over with a mere covering of love.
We must be like him, and endeavor to maintain a principle of true love in the
heart, as well as a show of it in the conduct. It is a miserable thing to have
to act the part of love, without feeling it. Hypocrisy is base in everything;
but next to religion, is most base in affection. Besides, how difficult is it to
act the part well, to keep on the mask, and to support the character so as to
escape detection! Oh, the misery of that woman’s heart, who at length finds out
to her cost, that what she had been accustomed to receive and value as the
attentions of a lover—are but the tricks of a cunning deceiver. The love of the
Redeemer was ARDENT. Let us, if we would form a correct idea of what should be
the state of our hearts towards the woman of our choice, think of that affection
which glowed in the bosom of a Savior, when he lived and died for his people. We
can possess, it is true, neither the same kind, nor the same degree of love—but
surely when we are referred to such an instance, if not altogether as a model,
yet as a motive, it does teach us, that no weak affection is due, or should be
offered to the wife of our bosom. We are told by the Savior himself, that if he
laid down his life for us, it is our duty to lay down ours for the brethren; how
much more for the "friend that sticks closer than a brother." And if it be our
duty to lay down our life, how much more to employ it while it lasts, in all the
offices of an affection—strong, steady, and inventive.

She who for our sake has forsaken the comfortable home, and the watchful care,
and the warm embrace of her parents—has a right to expect in our love, that
which shall make her "forget her father’s house," and cause her to feel that
with respect to happiness, she is no loser by the exchange. Happy the woman, and
such should every husband strive to make his wife, who can look back without a
sigh upon the moment, when she left forever, the guardians, the companions, and
the scenes of her childhood. The love of Christ to his church was SUPREME. He
gives to the world his benevolence—but to the church his love! "The Lord your
God in the midst of you," said the prophet, "is mighty; he will save you, he
will rejoice over you with joy; he will rest in his love—he will rejoice over
you with singing." So must the husband love his wife, above all else—he must
"rest in his love." He should love her not only above all outside his house—but
above all within it. She must take precedence both in his heart and conduct, not
only of all strangers, but of all relatives, and also of all his children; he
ought to love his children for her sake, rather than her for theirs. Is this
always the case? On the contrary have we not often seen men, who appear to be
far more interested in their children than in their wives; and who have paid far
less attention to the latter than to grown-up daughters? How especially unseemly
is it, for a man to be seen fonder of the society of any other woman, than that
of his wife, even where nothing more may be intended than the pleasure of her
company. Nor ought he to forsake her, in his leisure hours, for any companions
of his own sex, however pleasant might be their demeanor or their conversation.
The love of Christ is UNIFORM. Like himself, it is the same yesterday, today,
and forever. Marital affection should have the same character; it should be at
all times, and in all places alike; the same at home as abroad; in other peoples
houses as in our own. Has not many a wife to sigh and exclaim—"Oh! that I were
treated in my own house, with the same tenderness and attention as I receive in
company!" With what almost loathing and disgust must such a woman turn from
endearments, which under such circumstances she can consider as nothing but
hypocrisy! Home is the chief place for fond and minute attention; and she who
has not to complain of a lack of it there, will seldom feel the need or the
inclination to complain of a lack of it abroad—except it be those silly women,
who would degrade their husbands, by exacting not merely what is really kind,
but what is actually ridiculous. The love of the Redeemer was PRACTICAL and
LABORIOUS. He provided everything for the welfare and comfort of the church, and
at a cost and by exertions of which we can form no idea. It has been already
declared that both parties are to assist in the cares of life. A good wife
cannot be an idle one. Beautiful is her portraiture as drawn by the wise man.
"Who can find a virtuous wife? She is worth more than precious rubies. Her
husband can trust her, and she will greatly enrich his life. She will not hinder
him but help him all her life. She is energetic and strong, a hard worker. She
watches for bargains; her lights burn late into the night. Her hands are busy
spinning thread, her fingers twisting fiber. She extends a helping hand to the
poor and opens her arms to the needy. She has no fear of winter for her
household because all of them have warm clothes. She is clothed with strength
and dignity, and she laughs with no fear of the future. When she speaks, her
words are wise, and kindness is the rule when she gives instructions. She
carefully watches all that goes on in her household and does not have to bear
the consequences of laziness. Her children stand and bless her. Her husband
praises her: ’There are many virtuous and capable women in the world, but you
surpass them all!’ Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who
fears the Lord will be greatly praised." Proverbs 31:1-31 This exquisite
picture, combining as it does industry, prudence, dignity, meekness, wisdom and
piety, cannot be too frequently or minutely studied, by those who would attain
to high degrees of female excellence. The business of providing for the family,
however, belongs chiefly to the husband. It is yours my brethren to rise up
early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of carefulness, and to drink if
necessary, the waters of affliction, that you may earn by the sweat of your
brow, a comfortable support for the family circle. This is probably what the
apostle meant, when he enjoined us to give honor to the wife as to the weaker
vessel—the honor of providing for her, which she in consequence of the weakness
of her frame, and the frequent infirmities which the maternal relation brings
upon her, is not so well able to procure for herself. In most barbarous
countries, and in some half civilized ones, the burden of manual labor falls
upon the woman, while her tyrant husband lives in indolence, feeding upon the
industry of the hapless being whom he calls a wife—but treats as a slave. And
are there no such idle tyrants in our age and country, who so as they can live
in indolence, and gratify their appetites, care not how they oppress their
wives?—Wretches who do little or nothing for the support of the family? How
utterly lost to every noble and generous sentiment must that man be, whose heart
cannot be moved by the entreaties or tears of his own wife, and who can hear in
vain her pleadings for his child at her bosom, and his child by her side, and
who by such appeals cannot be induced to give up his daily visits to the tavern,
or his habits of sauntering idleness, to attend to his neglected business, and
hold off the approaching tide of poverty and ruin. Such a creature is worse than
a brute, he is a monster—and it seems a pity that there is no law and no
prison-ship to bear him away to a land where if he will not work, so neither
could he eat! In general, it is for the benefit of a family, that a married
woman should devote her time and attention almost exclusively to the ways of her
household—her place is in the center of family cares. What is gained by her in
the shop, is oftentimes lost in the house, for lack of the judicious
superintendence of a mother! Comfort and order, as well as money, are family
wealth—can these be rationally expected in the absence of female superintendence
in the home? The children always need a mother’s eye and hand, and should always
have them. Let the husband, then, have the care of providing; the wife, that of
distributing to the necessities of the family; for this is the rule both of
reason and the Word of God. And as Christ labored for his church, not only
during his abode upon earth, but made provision for its welfare when he departed
from our world, in like manner should the husband take care of his wife. I never
could understand the propriety of that custom, which is but too common, of men’s
providing by their wills so much better for the children than they do for the
mother. Does this look like a supreme love? Every man who raises a woman to the
rank of his wife, should take care, however inferior she might have been in
circumstances before their marriage, to leave her in the situation into which he
brought her—for it is indeed most cruel, to leave her to be deprived at once,
not only of her dearest earthly friend—but of her usual means of comfortable
existence. A practical affection to a wife extends, however, to everything; it
should manifest itself in the most delicate attention to her comfort, and her
feelings; in consulting her tastes; in concealing her failings; in never doing
anything to degrade her, but everything to exalt her before her children and
others; in acknowledging her excellencies, and commending her efforts to please
him; in meeting, and even in anticipating all her reasonable requests; in short,
in doing all that ingenuity can invent for her substantial happiness and general
comfort.

Christ’s love to his church, was DURABLE and UNCHANGEABLE. "Having loved his own
he loved them to the end," without abatement or alteration. So ought men to love
their wives, not only at the beginning; but to the end of their union; when the
charms of beauty have fled before the withering influence of disease; when the
vigorous and sprightly frame has lost its elasticity, and the step has become
slow and faltering—when the wrinkles of old age have followed to the bloom of
youth, and the whole person seems rather the monument, than the resemblance of
what it once was. Has she not gained in mind what she has lost in exterior
fascinations? Have not her mental graces flourished amid the ruins of personal
charms? If the ’rose’ and the ’lily’ have faded on the cheek, have not the
’fruits of righteousness’ grown in the soul? If those blossoms have departed, on
which the eye of youthful passion gazed with so much ardor, has it not been to
give way to the ripe fruit of Christian excellence? The woman is not what she
once was—but the wife, the mother, the Christian—are better than they were. For
an example of marital love in all its power and excellence, point me not to the
bride and bridegroom displaying during the first month of their union, all the
watchfulness and tenderness of affection, but let me look upon the husband and
wife of fifty, whose love has been tried by the lapse and the changes of a
quarter of a century, and who through this period and by these vicissitudes,
have grown in attachment and esteem; and whose affection, if not glowing with
all the fervid heat of a midsummer’s day, is still like the sunshine of an
October noon—warm and beautiful, as reflected amid autumnal tints!

But, before I go away from this view of a husband’s especial duty, I must just
advert to another rule of his love which is laid down for him by the apostle.
"So ought men to love their wives, as their own bodies—he who loves his wife
loves himself." A man’s children are parts of himself; his wife is himself—"for
the two shall be one flesh." This is his duty and the measure of it too; which
is so plain, that, if he understands how he treats himself, there needs nothing
be added concerning his demeanor towards her; for "what mighty care does he take
of his body, and uses it with a delicate tenderness, and cares for it in all
contingencies, and watches to keep it from all evils, and studies to make for it
fair provisions, and is very often led by its inclinations and desires, and does
never contradict its appetites but when they are evil, and then also not without
some trouble and sorrow." So let a man love his wife as his own body. Can it be
necessary to apply the force of MOTIVES to produce an appropriate attention to
such a duty? If so, I appeal to your sense of honor. Husbands, call to
recollection the wakeful diligence, and the tender attentions by which you won
the affection and the confidence of the woman, who forsook her father and her
mother, and the home of her childhood, to find a resting place for her heart in
your love—will you falsify the vows you pledged, and disappoint the hopes you
raised? Is it accounted a disgraceful stigma on a man’s reputation, to forfeit
the pledges of a lover? oh! how much more dishonorable to forget those of a
husband! That man has disgraced himself who furnishes just occasion to the
partner of his days, to draw, with a sigh, a contrast between the affectionate
attention she received as a lover and as a wife.

I urge affection to a wife by the recollection of that solemn moment, when in
the presence of heaven and earth, before God’s minister, and in God’s house, you
bound yourself by all the deeply solemn formalities of an oath, to throw open,
and keep open your heart, as the fountain of her earthly happiness, and to
devote your whole life to the promotion of her welfare.

I appeal to your regard to justice. You have sworn away yourself to her, and are
no longer your own. You have no right to that individual, and separate, and
independent kind of life, which would lead you to seek your happiness, in
opposition to, or neglect of hers. "The two have become one flesh."

Humanity puts in its claim on behalf of your wife. Husbands! It is in your power
to do more for your wife’s happiness or misery, than any other being in the
universe, but God himself. An unkind husband is a tormentor of the first class.
His victim can never elude his grasp, nor go beyond the reach of his cruelty,
until she is kindly released by the king of terrors, who, in this instance,
becomes to her an angel of light, and conducts her to the grave as to a shelter
from her oppressor. For such a woman there is no rest on earth—the destroyer of
her peace has her ever in his power, for she is always in his presence, or in
the fear of it; the circumstances of every place, and every day, furnish him
with the occasions of cruel neglect or unkindness, and it might be fairly
questioned, whether there is to be found on earth a case of greater misery,
except it be that of a wretch tortured by remorse and despair, than a woman
whose heart daily withers under the cold looks, the chilling words, and
repulsive actions of a husband who loves her not. Such a man is a murderer,
though in this world he escapes the murderer’s doom; and by a refinement of
cruelty, he employs years in conducting his victim to her end, by the slow
process of a lingering death!

If nothing else can prevail personal interest should, for no man can hate his
wife, without hating himself, for "she is his own flesh." Love, like mercy, is a
double blessing; and hatred, like cruelty, is a double torment. We cannot love a
worthy object without rejoicing in the reflex beams of our own affection. Next
to the supreme love we cherish towards God, and which it is impossible to
exercise and not hold communion in the joys of heaven, marital love is the most
beatifying passion; and to transvenom this into unkindness is to open, at the
very center of our soul, a source of poison, which, before it exudes to torture
others, torments ourselves!

I cannot here avoid inserting the exquisite and touching appeal, which Mr. Jay
puts into the lips of married women to their husbands.—"Honor us; deal kindly
with us. From many of the opportunities, and means by which you procure
favorable notice, we are excluded. Doomed to the shadows, few of the high places
of the earth are open to us. Alternately we are adored and oppressed. From our
slaves you become our tyrants. You feel our beauty, and avail yourselves of our
weakness. You complain of our inferiority, but none of your behavior bids us
rise. Sensibility has given us a thousand feelings, which nature has kindly
denied you. Always under restraints, we have little liberty of choice.
Providence seems to have been more attentive to enable us to confer happiness,
than to enjoy it. Every condition has for us fresh mortifications; every
relationship new sorrows. We enter social bonds; it is a system of perpetual
sacrifice. We cannot give life to others without hazarding our own. We have
sufferings which you do not share, cannot share. If spared, years and decays
invade our charms, and much of the ardor produced by attraction departs with it.
We may die. The grave covers us, and we are soon forgotten; soon are the days of
your mourning ended; soon is our loss repaired; dismissed even from your speech,
our name is to be heard no more—a successor may dislike it. Though the duties
which we have discharged invariably, be the most important and necessary, they
do not shine; they are too common to be striking—they procure no fame; the wife,
the mother fills no historic page. Our privations, our confinements, our
wearisome days, our interrupted, our sleepless nights, the hours we have hung in
anxious watchings over your sick and dying offspring . . ."—But we forbear.


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  CHAPTER 5: 01.04.     THE SPECIAL DUTIES OF WIVES
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The Special Duties of WIVES

"Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of
the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the
Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to
their husbands in everything." Ephesians 5:22-24

1. The first duty I mention is SUBMISSION. This is enjoined also in the epistle
to the Colossians. Peter writes with Paul in the same strain. "You wives be in
submission to your own husbands." Before I state the kind of submission here
commanded, it is necessary to state the nature of the authority to which it is
to be yielded. Here I would observe, that with whatever kind and degree of
authority the husband is invested over the wife—it is such as is in no way
incompatible with, nor trenches upon the strongest and tenderest affection. And
it is worthy of remark, that the apostle does not enjoin husbands to rule, nor
instruct them how, but merely to love.

It is such an authority, as is compatible with religion or the claims of God—for
no man has a right to enjoin, and no woman is bound to obey, any command which
is in opposition to the letter or spirit of the bible.

It is such an authority, as is consonant with sound reason; its injunctions must
all be reasonable, for surely it is too much to expect, that a wife is to become
the slave of folly, any more than of cruelty.

It is an authority, that accords with the idea of companionship. It was very
beautifully observed by an ancient writer, that when Adam endeavored to shift
the blame of his transgressions upon his wife, he did not say "the woman you
gave to me," no such thing, she is none of his goods, none of his possessions,
not to be reckoned among his servants; but he said "the woman you gave to be
with me," that is to be my partner, the companion of my joys and sorrows.

Let marital authority be founded upon love, be never exercised in opposition to
revelation or reason, and be regulated by the idea of companionship, and then
there needs no particular rules for its guidance; for within such limits, it can
never degenerate into tyranny; nor can it ever oppress its subjects—to such a
power any woman may bow, without degradation, for its yoke is easy and its
burden light. In every society, from that which finds its center in the father’s
chair, to that which in a wider circle rests upon the throne, there must be
authority vested somewhere, and some ultimate authority, some last and highest
tribunal established, from the decision of which there lies no appeal. In the
family constitution this authority vests in the husband—he is the head, the
law-giver, the ruler. In all matters touching the little world in the house, he
is to direct, not indeed without taking counsel with his wife, but in all
differences of view, he is to decide—unless he chooses to waive his right; and
to his decision the wife should yield, and yield with grace and cheerfulness. No
man ought to resign his authority as the head of the family, no woman ought to
wish him to do it—he may give up his preferences, and yield to her wishes, but
he must not abdicate the throne, nor resign his scepter.

Usurpation of authority is always hateful, and it is one of the most offensive
exhibitions of it, where the husband is degraded into a slave of the queen
mother. Such a woman looks contemptible even upon the throne. I admit it is
difficult for a sensible woman to submit to imbecility, but she should have
considered this before she united herself to it—having committed one error, let
her not fall into a second, but give the strongest proof of her good sense which
circumstances will allow her to offer, by making that concession to the
God-given authority of her husband, which there is no opportunity in her case
for her to submit to superiority of mind. She may reason, she may persuade, she
may solicit—but if ignorance cannot be convinced, nor obstinacy turned, nor
kindness conciliated, she has no resource left but to submit—and one of the
finest scenes ever to be presented by the family economy, is that of a sensible
woman employing her talents, not to subvert—but to support the authority of a
weak husband; a woman who prompts but does not command, who persuades, but does
not dictate, who influences, but does not compel, and who, after taking pains to
conceal her beneficent intervention, submits to the authority which she has both
supported and guided. An opposite line of conduct is most mischievous, for
weakness, when placed in perpetual contrast with superior judgment, is rarely
blind to its own defects; and as this consciousness of inferiority, when united
with office, is always jealous, it is both watchful and resentful of any
interference with its prerogative. There must be submission then, and where it
cannot be yielded to superior talents, because there are none, it must be
conceded to superiority of station. But let husbands be cautious not to put the
submission of their wives to too a severe a test. It is hard, very hard to obey
a rash, indiscreet, and silly ruler. "If you will be the head, remember the head
is not only the seat of government, but of knowledge. If you will have the
management of the ship, see that a fool is not placed at the helm. Shall the
blind offer themselves as guides?" The GROUNDS of submission are many and
strong. Waving all motives founded upon the comparative strength of mind with
which the two sexes may be gifted, I refer my female friends to less
questionable matters. Look at the CREATION; woman was made after the man, "for
Adam was first formed, then Eve." She was made out of man, "for the man is not
of the woman, but the woman of the man." She was made for man, "neither was the
man created for the woman, but the woman for the man."

Look at the FALL. Woman occasioned it. "Adam was not deceived, but the woman
being deceived, was in the transgression." She was thus punished for it, "Your
desire shall be to your husband, and he shall rule over you." Look at her
history. Have not the customs of all nations, ancient and modern, savage and
civilized, acknowledged her subordination? Look at the light in which this
subject is placed in the New Testament. How strong is the language of the text,
"the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the Church.
Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own
husbands in everything."

Let me then, my respected female friends, as you would submit to the authority
of Christ, as you would adorn the station that providence has called you to
occupy, as you would promote your own peace, the comfort of your husband, and
the welfare of your family, admonish you, meekly and gracefully to be subject in
all things, not only to the wise and good, but to the foolish and ill-deserving.
You may reason, as I have said before, you may expostulate, but you must not
rebel or refuse. Let it be your glory to feel how much you can endure, rather
than despise the institution of heaven, or violate those engagements into which
you voluntarily and so solemnly entered. Let your submission be characterized by
cheerfulness, and not by reluctant sullenness—let it not be preceded by a
struggle, but yielded at once and forever—let there be no holding out to the
last extremity, and then a mere compulsory capitulation; but a voluntarily,
cheerful, undisputed and unrevoked concession.

2. The next duty enjoined upon the wife is RESPECT.

"Let the wife see that she respect her husband." This duty is nearly allied to
the last, but is still some what different. By respect, the apostle means
nothing of slavish, or servile homage—but that respect and deference which are
due to one whom we are commanded to obey. Your respect will be manifest in your
WORDS—for instance, in your manner of speaking of him, you will avoid all that
will tend to lessen him in the esteem of others; all exposure of his faults or
minor weaknesses; all depreciation of his understanding or family rule. Such
gossip is detestable and mischievous, for can anything tend more to irritate
him, than to find that you have been sinking him in the esteem of the public?

Respect will be displayed in your manner of speaking to him. "Even as Sarah
obeyed Abraham, calling him lord," all flippant pertness, everything of
contemptuous consciousness of superiority, of dictation and command, of
unnecessary contradiction, of pertinacious and obtrusive disputation, of
scolding accusation, of angry, reproachful complaint, of noisy and
uncontrollable admonition, should be avoided. Almost all family quarrels begin
in words; and it is usually in a woman’s power to prevent them by causing the
law of kindness to dwell upon her lips, and calming the gusts of her husband’s
passion, by those soft answers which turn away wrath.

Especially should she be careful how she speaks to him, or even before him, in
the company of her family, or of strangers—she must not talk him into silence;
nor talk at him; nor say anything that is calculated to wound or degrade him,
for a sting inflicted in public is doubly charged with venom; she must not
endeavor to eclipse him, to engross the attention of the company to herself, to
reduce him to a cipher which is valueless until she stands before him. This is
not respect—on the contrary, she should do all in her power to sustain his
respectability and dignity in public esteem, and her very mode of addressing
him, partaking at once of the kindness of affection, and the deference of
respect, is eminently calculated to do this. And should he at any time express
himself in the language of reproof, even though that reproof be causeless, or
unjustly severe, let her be cautious not to forget her station, so as to be
betrayed into a railing recrimination, a contemptuous silence, or a moody
sullenness. Difficult, I am aware it is, to show respect, where there are no
other grounds for it to rest upon, than mere station; and as easy to pay it
where wisdom, dignity, and piety, support the claims of relationship—but in
proportion to the difficulty of a virtuous action, is its excellence; and hers
is indeed superior virtue, who yields, to the relationship of her husband, that
respect which he restrains her to pay to him, on account of his conduct. Her
respect will extend itself to her ACTIONS, and lead to an incessant desire to
please him in all things. It is assumed by the apostle as an indisputable and
general fact, that "the married woman cares how she may please her husband." All
her conduct should be framed upon this principle, to give him contentment and to
increase his delight in her. Let her appear contented with her lot, and that
will do much to render him contented with his—while, on the other hand, nothing
is more likely to generate discontent in his heart, than the appearance of it in
her. Let her by a cheerful good disposition diffuse an air of pleasantness
through his dwelling. Let her guard as much as possible against a gloomy and
moody disposition, which causes her to move about with the silence and
cloudiness of a spectre—for who likes to dwell in a haunted house?

She should always welcome him across his threshold with a smile, and ever put
forth all her ingenuity in studying to please him, by consulting his wishes, by
surprising him occasionally with those unlooked for and ingenious devices of
affection, which, though small in themselves, are the proofs of a mind intent
upon the business of giving pleasure. The greater acts of respectful love are
often regarded as matters of course, and as such, produce little impression—but
the lesser acts of attention which come not into the usual routine of marital
duties, and into the every day offices which may be calculated upon with almost
as much certainty as the coming of the hour which they are to occupy, these
free-will offerings of an inventive and active affection, these extra tokens of
respect, and expressions of love, have a mighty power to attach a husband to his
wife; they are the cords of kindness and love. In all her personal and family
habits, her first care then, next to that of pleasing God, must be to please her
husband, and thus hold to herself that heart, which cannot wander from her
without carrying her happiness with it; and which when once departed, cannot be
restored by any power short of Omnipotence itself.

3. MEEKNESS is especially mentioned by the apostle Peter, as a disposition which
it is the duty of every wife to cultivate.

He has distinguished and honored this temper by calling it the ornament of a
meek and quiet spirit. If there be some virtues, which seem pre-eminently to
suit the female character, meekness bears a high place among such. No one stands
in greater need of this disposition than the wife in a family—either the
petulance and waywardness of children, or the neglects and misconduct of
servants, or the sharp words of a husband, are almost sure, if she be easily
provoked, to keep her in a state of irritation all the day long. How trying is a
peevish woman, how odious a brawling one. "It is better to dwell in the
wilderness than with a contentious and angry woman." The ’graces’ were females,
says Mr. Jay, so were the ’furies’ too.

It is astonishing the influence which meekness has sometimes had in a family—it
has quenched the sparks and even coals of anger and strife, which but for this
would have set the house on fire—it has mastered the tiger and the lion, and led
them captive with the silken thread of love. The strength of woman lies not in
resisting, but in yielding; her power is in her gentleness; there is more of
real defense, yes and more of that which effectually disarms a foe, in one mild
look, or one soft accent—than in hours of flashing glances, and of angry tones.
When amid family strife she has been enabled to keep her temper, the storm has
been often scattered as quickly as it has arisen; or her meekness has served as
a conductor to carry off its dreadful flashes, which otherwise would have
destroyed the dwelling.

Put on then, the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. Pay less attention to the
decoration of the person, more to that of the mind. "Don’t be concerned about
the outward beauty that depends on fancy hairstyles, expensive jewelry, or
beautiful clothes. You should be known for the beauty that comes from within,
the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God."
1 Peter 3:3-4. The language of another apostle on this subject is no less
striking. "And I want women to be modest in their appearance. They should wear
decent and appropriate clothing and not draw attention to themselves by the way
they fix their hair or by wearing gold or pearls or expensive clothes. For women
who claim to be devoted to God should make themselves attractive by the good
things they do." 1 Timothy 2:9-10. Two apostles, who both wrote as they were
moved by the Holy Spirit, in such language as this, have denounced as improper,
and as unbecoming a profession of godliness, a taste for immodest, expensive, or
highly decorative dress.

Surely then, the subject is worthy the most serious attention of all Christian
women. By what sophistry can the letter, much more the spirit, of two passages
of holy writ, so very plain and express in their terms as these, be set aside?
That they are set aside, is evident by the appearance of almost every church
into which we could enter. The race of folly, one should really suppose, is at
length almost run, for it does seem well near impossible for the women of our
age to render themselves more supremely ridiculous than many of them have lately
appeared. What with the gaudiness of styles, and extravagance of fashion, our
religious assemblies present everything at once to disgust our taste, and to
distress our piety.

It is high time for the Christian teacher, to call back the women "professing
godliness," from their wanderings in the regions of fashionable folly, to the
Holy Scriptures—for the Holy Scriptures, it should be remembered, have laid down
a general law for regulating the dress of the body, as well as that of the mind.
I do hold then, that these passages of Scripture, are parts of revelation, and
as such are still binding upon the conscience—if not, show me when they were
cancelled.

I contend that Christian women ought to abstain from expensive, showy, and
extravagant fashions in dress, jewelry, and all kinds of unsuitable personal
decoration. I am not arguing for a sectarian apparels, for a religious uniform,
for canonical shapes and colors—nothing of the sort, but for simplicity,
neatness, economy; for, what the apostle calls, modest apparel, decency, and
sobriety; for the spirit of the passages, if not the very letter; for a
distinction between those who profess godliness, in their comparative
inattention to such things, and those who make no such profession; for a proof
that their minds are not so much engaged on these matters, as the minds of the
people of the world are.

I am not for extinguishing taste; alas, in matters of dress, this is already
done; but for resisting the lawless ’dominion of folly’, under the name of
fashion. I am not for calling back the age of gothic barbarism, or vulgarity;
no! I will leave ample room for the cultivation of both taste and genius, in
every lawful department, but I am protesting against ’the desolating reign of
vanity’; I am resisting the entrance of vanity and frivolity into the church of
God; I am contending against the glaring inconsistency of rendering our
religious assemblies like the audience convened in a theatre. The evils of an
improper attention to fashion are great and numerous:

1. Much precious time is wasted in the study, and arrangements, and decisions of
this matter.

2. The attention is taken off from the improvement of the mind and the heart, to
the decoration of the person.

3. The mind is filled with pride and vanity, and a deteriorating influence is
carried on upon what constitutes the true dignity of the soul.

4. The love of ’ostentation’ infects the character.

5. Money is wasted which is needed for relieving the misery, and improving the
condition of mankind.

6. Examples are set to the lower classes, in whom the propensity is often
mischievous in many ways.

I am aware it might be, and is said, that there may be the pride of singularity,
as well as of fashion; the pride of being covered with sober autumnal tints, as
well as of exhibiting the brilliant hues of the rainbow; the pride of quality
and of texture, as well as of color and of form. I know it, and I do not justify
the one more than I do the other; I condemn all kinds—but at any rate there is a
little more dignity in one kind than in another. I will leave opportunity for
the distinctions of rank, for the inventions of true taste, and for the modest
and unobtrusive displays of natural elegance and simple beauty; but I cannot
allow the propriety of Christian women yielding themselves to the guidance of
’fashion’—however expensive, extravagant, or gaudy. As to the employment of our
artisans by the various changes of fashion, I have nothing to do with this, in
face of an apostolic injunction. The silversmiths who made shrines for the
worshipers of Diana might have pleaded the same objection against the preachers
of the gospel, who certainly did, so far as they were successful, ruin this
trade. I am only speaking to professors of religion, who form so small a portion
of society, that their abstinence from folly would do but little in diminishing
the employment of the work people; and if it did, let them make it up in some
other way.

What I contend for, then, is not baseness, not ugliness, not unvarying
sameness—no! but neatness as opposed to gaudiness; simplicity as opposed to
extravagance; purity as opposed to immodesty; economy as opposed to
expensiveness. Whether what I contend for is characteristic of the age in which
we live, let any spectator determine.

I am anxious to see professors of religion displaying a seriousness and
spirituality, a dignity and sobriety of mind, a simplicity of habits, and a
sedateness of manners, befitting their high and holy profession; and all this,
united with an economy in their personal expenses, which will leave them a
greater fund at their disposal, for relieving the miseries and promoting the
happiness of their fellow-creatures.

But, perhaps after all, many women may plead, that the gaiety and expensiveness
of their dress, is more to please their husbands than themselves—but even this
must have its limits. And I really pity the folly of that man, who concerns
himself in the arrangement of his wife’s wardrobe and make-up; and who would
rather see her go forth in all the gorgeousness of splendid apparel, to display
herself in the drawing rooms of her friends—than in dignified neatness, to visit
the cottages of the poor, as the messenger of mercy—and who rejoices more to
contemplate her moving through the circles of fashion, the lustful object of one
sex, and the envy of the other—than to see her holding on her radiant course in
the orbit of benevolence, clad in inexpensive simplicity—and with the savings of
her personal expenditure, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, healing the
sick; and thus bringing upon herself the blessing of him who was ready to
perish, and causing the widow’s heart to sing for joy.

Let it be remembered, that not only the clothing, but the person which it
adorns, is corruptible. Accidents may distort the finest form, diseases
deteriorate the loveliest body, time disfigure the smoothest face, and death,
the spoiler of beauty, work a change so awful and appalling, as to turn away the
most impassioned admirers in disgust. How soon will every other dress be
displaced by the shroud! and every other decoration be stripped off to make way
for the flowers that are strewed in the coffin upon the corpse—as if to hide the
deformity of death! But the graces of the heart, and the beauties of the
character, are imperishable. Such internal lovelinesses, let a wife be
continually seeking to put on; "for she must entice her husband to an eternal
happiness, by the veil of modesty, and the robes of chastity, the ornaments of
meekness, and the jewels of faith and charity. She must have no painted face but
blushings; her brightness must be her purity, and she must shine round about
with sweetness and friendship, and then she shall be pleasant while she lives,
and desired when she dies."

5. ECONOMY and ORDER in the management of her personal and family expenditure,
are the obvious duty of a wife.

You are to preside in the direction of household affairs; and much of the
prosperity and comfort of the little community, will depend upon your skillful
and prudent arrangements. There is a manifest disposition in this age, in all
classes of society, to come as closely as possible to the standards of those
financially above them. The poor are imitating the middle classes; and the
middle classes are copying the upper ranks. A showy, luxurious, and expensive
taste is almost universally cherished, and is displayed in innumerable
instances—where there are no means to support it. A large house, a country
residence, splendid furniture, a top-quality carriage, and large parties, are
the aim of many, whose creditors pay for all.

Christian families are in most imminent peril of worldly conformity in the
present day; and the line of demarcation between the church and the world is
fast wearing out. It is true they have no cards, they do not frequent the
theatre, or the ballroom, and perhaps they have no midnight parties—but this is
all—for many are as anxious about the splendor of their furniture, the fashion
of their habits, the expensiveness of their entertainments, as the greatest
worldling can be! Now a wife has great influence in checking—or promoting all
this.

It has been thought that this increasing disposition for ’family ostentation’
and gaiety, is to be attributed chiefly to ’female vanity’. It is woman that is
generally regarded as the presiding genius of such a scene—she receives the
praise and the compliment of the whole, and she therefore, is under the
strongest temptation to promote it. But let her consider, how little all this
has to do with the happiness of the family, even in its most prosperous state;
and how a recollection of it aggravates the misery of adversity, when a reverse
takes place. Then to be found in debt for finery of fashion, or furniture; then
to have it said that her extravagance ruined her husband; then to need that, for
bread, which was formerly wasted on luxury; then to hear the whispered reproach
of having injured others by her own thoughtless expenditure! Avoid, my female
friends, these miseries! Do not go on to prepare wormwood and gall to embitter
still more, the already bitter cup of adversity!

Endeavor to acquire a skilfulness in family management, a frugality, a prudence,
a love of order and neatness, a midway course between baseness and luxury, a
suitableness to your station in life, to your Christian profession; an economy
which shall leave you more to spare for the cause of God and the miseries of
man. Rather check than stimulate the taste of your husband for expense; tell him
that it is not necessary for your happiness, nor for the comfort of the family;
draw him away from these adventitious circumstances, to the mental improvement,
the moral culture, the religious instruction, of your children. Let knowledge,
piety, good sense, well-formed habits, harmony, mutual love, be the sources of
your family pleasures—what is splendor of furniture, or dress, or
entertainments, to these?

6. A wife SHOULD BE MOST ATTENTIVE TO ALL THAT CONCERNS THE WELFARE AND COMFORT
OF THE CHILDREN, if there are any. For this purpose, she must be a keeper at
home.—"The older women must train the younger women to love their husbands and
their children, to live wisely and be pure, to be keepers at home, to do good,
and to be submissive to their husbands. Then they will not bring shame on the
word of God." Titus 2:4-5 And how can the duties that devolve upon the female
head of a family be well discharged, if she be not a keeper at home?—On this I
have dwelt already in a former chapter, but its importance will justify my
returning to the subject again. How much has she to attend to, how many cares to
sustain, how many activities to support, where there is a young family? Whoever
has leisure for gossiping, she has none—whoever may be found wandering from
house to house, "hearing or telling some new thing," she must not. A mother’s
place is in the midst of her family; a mother’s duties are to take care of them.
Nothing can excuse a neglect of these; and yet we often see such neglect.

Some are lovers of reading, and the welfare of the household is neglected for
books. Not that I would debar a female from the luxury of reading, or sink her
to a mere family drudge, whose ceaseless toils must have no intermission nor
solace from literature; far from it—but her taste for literature must be kept
within due bounds, and not be allowed to interfere with her household duties. No
husband can be pleased to see a book in the hands of a wife, while the house is
in confusion, and the children’s welfare unprovided for.

Much less should a taste for company be allowed to draw a wife too much out of
the circle of her responsibilities and duties. To be wandering from house to
house in the morning, or to be engaged until a late hour evening after evening,
in socializing, while the family at home are left to themselves, is certainly
disgraceful.

Even attention to the public duties of religion must be regulated by a due
regard to family claims. I am aware that many are apt to make these claims an
excuse for neglecting the public means of grace almost entirely—the house of God
is unfrequented—sermons, and all other religious meetings, are given up, for an
absorbing attention to household affairs. This is one extreme; and the other is,
such a devotedness to religious meetings, that the needs of a sick family, the
cries of a hungry infant, or the circumstances of some extraordinary case of
family care, are not allowed to have any force in detaining a mother from a
weekday sermon, a prayer meeting, or the anniversary of some public institution.
It is no honor to religion for a wife, under such circumstances, to be seen in
the house of God; duties cannot be in opposition to each other; and at such a
time, her responsibility lie at home.

It must be always distressing, and in some cases disgusting, for a husband, on
his returning to a scene of family confusion, and seeing a neglected sick child,
to be told, upon enquiring after the mother, that she is attending a sermon or
public meeting. There is great need for watchfulness in the present age, when
female agency is in such requisition, lest attention to public institutions
should most injuriously interfere with the duties of a wife and a mother.

I know very well that an active woman, may by habits of order, punctuality, and
delegation, so arrange her more direct and immediate duties at home, as to allow
of sufficient leisure to assist the noble societies which solicit her patronage,
without neglecting her husband and children—but where this cannot be done, no
society, whether humane or religious, should be allowed to take her away from
what is after all, her first and more appropriate sphere. She must be a keeper
at home, if anything there demands her presence!

Such appear to me to be the leading duties of a wife. Motives of a very high and
sacred character may be offered for a diligent performance of them. Her own
comfort, and that of her husband, is of course most vitally connected with a
fulfillment of her obligations—and the welfare of her children is also deeply
involved. And then, her godly character will shine forth with peculiar luster! A
godly wife is a high attainment in female excellence—it is woman in her
brightest glory since the fall. But there is one consideration of supreme
importance mentioned by the apostle, to which I shall direct your
attention.—"Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if
any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the
godly behavior of their wives. Don’t be concerned about the outward beauty that
depends on fancy hairstyles, expensive jewelry, or beautiful clothes. You should
be known for the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle
and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God. That is the way the holy women of
old made themselves beautiful. They trusted God and were submissive to their
husbands." 1 Peter 3:1-5. Powerful and yet tender consideration! Mark, my female
friends, the implied eulogy passed by the apostle on your sex, where he seems to
take it for granted, that if one party be destitute of religion, it is the
husband. And facts prove that this assumption was correct. Religion flourishes
most among the female part of our species—in our congregations, and in our
churches, the greater portion of them is female. Can we account for this by
natural causes? Partly. They are more at home, and therefore more within the
means of grace—they are more susceptible—they are less exposed to those
temptations that harden the heart through the deceitfulness of sin; they are
subject to more affliction, which softens the heart and prepares it for the seed
of the kingdom. But all this is not enough, for without grace all these
advantages are unavailing—we must resolve it therefore into divine purpose,
divine interposition, and the arrangements of divine wisdom.

Female influence in all civilized states is great; and God has generally made
much use of this wherever the gospel has come, as one of the means for spreading
religion. He pours his grace on them, that their influence may be employed with
others, especially their husbands and their children. If then, in any case, a
Christian woman be united to an unconverted man, she must cherish and display a
deep, and tender, and judicious solicitude for his salvation—and "How do you
know, O wife, whether you will save your husband?" 1 Corinthians 7:16.

I would not encourage marriage to an unbeliever—I would not have the single
woman try the doubtful and dangerous experiment of marrying an irreligious man,
in the hope of converting him; in such cases the conversion is often the other
way; but where the union is formed, there I say, nourish the concern, and employ
every discreet exertion for his eternal welfare. Many instances have occurred,
in which the unbelieving husband has been sanctified by the wife. She has drawn
him with the cords of a tender and judicious love, to a consideration of the
subject of personal religion. Think of the value of a soul, and of the ineffable
glory of being the instrument of its salvation! But O! to be the means of saving
the soul of a husband! Think how it will strengthen the bond, and sanctify and
sweeten it, which unites you on earth and in time; and at the same time add to
it a tie, by which you shall "not lose one another in the valley of the shadow
of death," but be reunited as kindred spirits, though not as man and wife, in
heaven, and through eternity.

"Think, O wife, of the happiness—the honor that awaits you. What is the triumph
you have acquired over him by your charms, compared with the victory you will
obtain over him by your religion?—What pleasure will attend you the remainder of
your days—now you are of ’one heart and one mind;’ now you ’take sweet counsel
together.’ The privileged language of prayer now is OUR Father—of every motion
made to go and seek the Lord Almighty there is a ready acceptance—’I will go
also.’ And what will be your joy and crown of rejoicing in that day, when before
assembled men and angels, your husband will say—O blessed be the Providence
which attached us in yonder world and has still more perfectly united us in
this. The woman you gave to be with me, led me to the tree of life which is in
the midst of the Paradise of God." (Mr. Jay.) But how is this solicitude to be
employed? The apostle tells us—"In the same way, you wives must be submissive to
your husbands. Your godly lives will speak to them better than any words! They
will be won over by watching your pure, godly behavior." Your religion must be
seen embodied in your whole character and conduct. It must commend itself to
their judgment by what they perceive, as sincere. It must be consistent; for a
lack of uniformity, however earnest it may in many respects and at many times
appear, will produce disgust. You must "let your light so shine before them,
that they seeing your good works, may glorify God." You must ever appear
invested with all the beauty of a lovely example, which, silent though you be as
it respects your tongue, is living eloquence. Your religion must diffuse its
luster over your whole character, and impress itself most deeply on your
responsibilities as a wife, and a mother. Your religion must be a new motive to
all that respect, and devotedness, and meekness, which have been laid before
you, and it must lead you to carry every marital and maternal virtue to the
highest degree of perfection. It must be attended with the most profound
humility, for if there be any spiritual pride, any conscious and manifest sense
of superiority, anything approaching to the pharisaic temper, which says, "stand
aside, I am holier than you," anything like contempt of your husband, as an
unconverted sinner, you will excite an inveterate prejudice not only against
religion, but against yourself; religion will be hated by him for your sake, and
you for religion’s sake. When you venture to speak to him on the subject of
piety, it should be as remotely as possible from all lecturing, all dictation,
all reproach, all conscious superiority; and with all possible tenderness,
meekness, humility, and persuasive affection. Never talk to him of his lost
state in the presence of others, and never talk at him. Nor is it likely to
accomplish the object you have in view, to weary him by continual badgering.
Many defeat their own end, by an incessant introduction of the subject, and
sometimes with an rigor which increases the revulsion, which its own nature is
calculated, in such a mind to produce. An occasional ’hint’, and that of the
most tender, respectful, and delicate kind, is all that you should attempt—and
then leave your example to speak. Occasionally you may put an instructive volume
in his way, and solicit his perusal of it. Do not bring your religious friends
too much about you, so as to annoy him—especially keep away as much as possible,
any that may have a less portion of discretion than the rest; and confine
yourself to the more judicious, and best informed.

Never rudely interfere with his pursuits, his reading, or his company, although
they may not be what you can cordially approve. Until he is enlightened from
above, he will not see the evil of these things, and to attempt to interrupt
him, in any other way, than by the mildest, and most respectful admonition, will
only do harm. Should he wish to draw you from the high pursuit of eternal life,
you are not, of course, in this case, to yield to his persuasion, nor in
anything to concede, where your conscience is decidedly concerned in the matter.
You must be firm, but mild. One concession granted by you, would only lead to
another. But still, even in this extremity, your resistance of his attempts to
interfere with your religion, must be maintained in all the meekness of
religion, and must be attended with fresh efforts to please him, in all things
which are lawful. If such a line of conduct should subject you to reproach,
anger, and persecution—a most painful, and by no means an uncommon case—you must
possess your soul in patience, and commit your way to Him who judges
righteously. Many a persecuting husband has been subdued, if not to true
religion, yet to kinder conduct, by the meek and uncomplaining temper of his
wife. To conclude. Let us all seek after more of the spirit of true religion—the
spirit of faith, of hope, of prayer—a faith, that really believes the word of
God, and looks habitually to the cross of Christ by which we obtain salvation,
and to the eternal world where we shall fully and forever enjoy it—a hope that
lives in the expectation and desire of glory, honor, immortality, and eternal
life—and a spirit of prayer which leads us daily and hourly to the throne of
divine grace, for all that aid of the Holy Spirit, which we need, for the duties
which devolve upon us, in consequence of our relationships in this world.
"Godliness is profitable for all things, having the promise of the life that now
is, as well as of that which is to come." The same principle of divine grace
which unites us to God, will bind us closer to each other. Religion contains in
it not only the seeds of immortal virtues, but of such as are mortal—not only
the germs of excellences which are to flourish in the temple of heaven, but
which grow up in the house of our pilgrimage upon earth, to enliven with their
beauty, and to refresh with their fragrance, the family circle. A good Christian
cannot be a bad husband, or father; and other things being equal, he who has
most piety, will shine most in all the relationships of life. A bible placed
between man and wife as the basis of their union, the rule of their conduct, and
the model of their temper, will make up many a difference, comfort them under
many a cross, guide them in many a strait, wherein flesh and blood will be
confounded and at a loss, support them in their last sad parting from each
other, and reunite them in the world where they shall go no more out.

"Those married pairs who live, as remembering that they must part again, and
give an account how they treat themselves and each other, shall at the day of
their death, be admitted to glorious espousals; and when they shall live again,
be married to their Lord, and partake of his glories. All those things that now
please us, shall pass from us—or we from them. But those things that concern the
eternal life, are permanent as the numbers of eternity—and although at the
resurrection, there shall be no relation of husband and wife, and no marriage
shall be celebrated but the marriage of the Lamb, yet then shall be remembered
how men and women passed through this state, which is a type of that; and from
this sacramental union, all holy pairs shall pass to the spiritual and eternal,
where love shall be their portion, and joys shall crown their heads, and they
shall lie in the bosom of Jesus, and in the heart of God to eternal ages." Amen!


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  CHAPTER 6: 01.05.     THE FORMATION OF THE MARRIAGE UNION
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The FORMATION of the Marriage Union

"Methinks it is a misfortune that the marriage state, which in its own nature is
adapted to give us the greatest happiness this life is capable of, should be so
troublesome a relationship to so many as it daily proves. But the problem
generally proceeds from the unwise choice people make for themselves, and an
expectation of happiness from things incapable of giving it. Nothing but the
good qualities of the person beloved, can be a foundation for a love of judgment
and discretion; and whoever expects happiness from anything but virtue, wisdom,
good temper, and a pleasantness of manners, will find themselves widely
mistaken." The Spectator The preceding chapters make it evident, that marriage
is a step of incalculable importance, and ought never to be taken without the
greatest consideration and the utmost caution. If the duties of this state are
so numerous and so weighty, and if the right discharge of these obligations, as
well the happiness of our whole life, and even our safety for eternity, depend,
as they necessarily must do, in no small measure upon the choice we make of a
husband or wife—then let reason determine, with what deliberation we should
advance to such a relationship. It is obvious, that no decision of our whole
earthly existence requires more of the exercise of a calm judgment than this,
and yet observation proves how rarely the judgment is allowed to give counsel,
and how generally the imagination and the passions settle the question! A very
great portion of the depraved misery and of the crime with which society is
afflicted, is the result of ill-formed marriages. If mere passion without
prudence, or covetousness without love, be allowed to guide the marital choice,
no wonder that it is improperly done, or that it is highly disastrous in its
consequences; and how often are passion and covetousness alone consulted. "They
who enter the marriage state, cast a die of the greatest contingency, and yet of
the greatest interest in the world, next to the last throw for eternity. Life or
death, felicity or a lasting sorrow, are in the power of marriage. A woman
indeed ventures most, for she has no sanctuary to retire to, from an evil
husband; she must dwell upon her sorrow, which her own folly has produced; and
she is more under it, because her tormentor has warrant of prerogative, and the
woman may complain to God, as subjects do of tyrant princes, but otherwise she
has no appeal in the unkindness done to her. And though the man can run from
many hours of sadness, yet he must return to it again; and when he sits among
his neighbors, he remembers the objection that lies in his bosom, and he sighs
deeply."

If however, it were merely the comfort of the married pair themselves that was
concerned, it would be a matter of less consequence, a stake of less value; but
the well-being of a family, not only for this world, but for the next, and
equally so the well-being of their descendants, even to a remote period, depends
upon this union. In the ardor of passion, few are disposed to listen to the
counsels of their parent’s prudence; and perhaps there is no advice, generally
speaking, more thrown away, than that which is offered on the subject of
marriage. Most people, especially if they are already attached to a selected
object, although they have not committed themselves by a promise or even a
declaration, will go on in the pursuit, blinded by love to the indiscretion of
their choice; or desperately determined, with the knowledge of that
indiscretion, to accomplish if possible, their purpose. Upon such individuals,
reasoning is wasted, and they must be left to gain wisdom in the only way, by
which some will acquire it—painful experience!

1. To others who may be yet disengaged, and disposed to hearken to the language
of advice, the following remarks are offered—in the choice of a marriage
partner, be guided by the advice of parents! Parents have no right to select for
you, nor ought you to select for yourself, without consulting with them. How far
they are vested with authority to prohibit you from marrying a person whom they
disapprove, is a point of debate—very difficult to determine. If you are of age,
and able to provide for yourselves, or are likely to be well provided for by
those to whom you are about to be united, it is a question whether they can do
anything more than advise and persuade. But until you are of age, they have
positive authority to forbid; and it is an evil and harmful act in you, to form
relationships without their knowledge, and to carry them on against their
prohibitions! Their objections ought always, I admit, to be founded on reason,
and not on caprice, pride, or greed—for where this is the case, and children are
of full age, and are guided in their choice by prudence, by piety, and by
affection—they certainly may, and must be left to decide for themselves. Where,
however, parents rest their objections on sufficient grounds, and show plain and
palpable reasons for prohibiting a relationship, there it is the manifest duty
of sons, and especially of daughters, to give it up. A union formed in
opposition to the reasonable objection of a discreet father or mother is very
rarely a happy one—and the bitter cup is rendered additionally bitter, in such a
case, by the wormwood and gall of self-reproach! What miseries of this kind have
we all seen! How many beacons are set up, if young people would but look at
them, to warn them against the folly of giving themselves up to the impulse of
an imprudent marital attachment, and following it to a close, against the
advice, remonstrance, and prohibition of their parents. Very seldom does that
unwise marital relationship prove otherwise than a source of wretchedness—on
which the frown of an affectionate and wise father and mother fell from the
beginning. For God seems to rise up in judgment, and to support the parent’s
authority, by confirming their displeasure with his own!

2. Marriage should in every case be formed upon the basis of mutual AFFECTION.
If there be no love before marriage, it cannot be expected there should be any
after it. Lovers, as all are supposed to be who are looking forward to this
union, without love, have no right to expect happiness. The coldness of
indifference is soon likely, in their case, to be changed into aversion and
abhorrence.

There ought to be personal attachment. If there be anything, even in the
exterior, that excites disgust—the marriage is forbidden by the voice of nature.
I do not say that beauty of countenance, or elegance of form is necessary; by no
means; a pure and strong attachment has often existed in the absence of these;
and I will not take upon me to determine that it is absolutely impossible to
love deformity. But we certainly ought not to unite ourselves with it, unless we
can love it; or at least, are so enamored with the fascination of mental
qualities that may be united with it, as to lose sight of the body—in the charms
of the mind, the heart, and the manners. All I contend for, is, that to proceed
to marriage against absolute dislike and revulsion—is irrational, base, and
sinful. But love should respect the mind, as well as the body; for to be
attached to an individual simply on the ground of external beauty, is to fall in
love with a doll, or a statue, or a picture. Such an attachment is lust or
fantasy—but certainly not a rational affection. If we love the body, but do not
love the mind, the heart, and the manners—our love is placed upon the inferior
part of the person, and therefore, only upon that which, if wrecked by disease,
may be next year a very different thing to what it is now! Nothing fades so soon
as beauty! It is but like the delicate bloom of an attractive fruit, and if
there be nothing agreeable underneath, will be thrown away in disgust when that
is brushed off; and thrown away, too, by the very hand of him that plucks it!

It is so commonly remarked, as to be proverbial, that the charms of mind
increase by acquaintance—while those of the body diminish; and that while the
former easily reconciles us to a plain countenance. Mere external beauty
fosters, by the power of contrast, a distaste for the internal dullness,
ignorance, and heartlessness, with which it is united—like gaudy, scentless
flowers, growing in a desert. Instead of determining to stake our happiness upon
the act of gathering these blooming weeds, to place them in our bosom—let us ask
how they will look a few years hence, or how they will adorn and bless our home?
Let us ask—will the mind, united with that countenance, render its subject fit
to be my companion, and the instructor of my children? Will that temper
patiently bear with my weaknesses, kindly consult my tastes, affectionately
study my comfort? Will those manners please me in solitude, as well as in
society? Will those habits render my dwelling pleasant to myself and to my
friends? We must test these matters, and hold our passions back, that we may
take counsel with our judgment, and allow reason to come down and talk with us
in the cool of the evening.

Such then, is the love on which marriage should be contracted—love to the whole
person; love to the mind, and heart, and manners, as well as to the countenance
and form; love tempered with respect; for this only is the attachment that is
likely to survive the ’charms of novelty’, the ’spoliation of disease’, and the
’influence of time’—that is likely to support the tender sympathies and
exquisite sensibilities of the marital state; and render man and wife to the
verge of extreme old age—what it was the intention of him who instituted the
marriage union they should be—the help and the comfort of each other. By what
language then, sufficiently strong and indignant, can we condemn those
agreements, so disgraceful, and yet so common, by which marriage is converted
into a money speculation, a trading enterprise, a mere business of pounds,
shillings, and pence? How cruel a part do those parents act, who for the sake of
an advantageous settlement, urge their daughters into a union, from which their
hearts revolt; or persuade their sons to marry women, towards whom they feel no
affection, merely for the sake of a fortune! Unnatural fathers and mothers! is
it thus you would lead your children, decorated as sacrifices to the shrine of
Mammon, and act the part of priests and priestesses yourselves, in the
immolation of these hapless victims!! What will you assist in the rites of this
legal prostitution? Can none others be found but you, the natural guardians of
your children’s interests, to persuade them to sell themselves, and barter all
the happiness of their future lives, for gold? Will you make yourselves
responsible for all the future miseries of your children—and your children’s
children—by recommending such a sordid agreement? Forbear, I entreat you, for
your own sake, for your children’s sake, and for the sake of society, to
recommend a marriage, which is not founded on pure, and strong, and mutual
affection!

Young people themselves, should be extremely careful on their own part to let no
persuasions of others, no impulse of their own covetousness, no concern to be
their own masters and mistresses, no ambition for worldly splendor—induce them
to enter into a relationship to which they are not drawn by the solicitations of
a pure and virtuous love. What will a large house, splendid furniture, colorful
clothing, and fashionable entertainments do for their possessor, in the absence
of marital love? "Is it for these baubles, these toys," exclaims the wretched
heart as it awakens, alas! too late, in some sad scene of family woe, "is it for
this I have bartered away myself, my happiness, my honor?" "How ill the scenes
that offer rest, and heart that cannot rest agree."

O there is a sweetness, a charm, a power to please, in pure and mutual
affection—though it be cherished in the humblest abode, and maintained amid the
plainest circumstances, and has to contend with many difficulties—compared with
which, the elegance and brilliance of worldly grandeur, are but as the splendor
of an eastern palace, to one of the bowers of the garden of Eden. Let the man
nobly determine to earn his daily bread by the sweat of his brow, and find his
daily task sweetened by the thought that it is for the woman he loves, rather
than roll about in his chariot, and live a life of splendid indolence and
misery, with the woman he does not love! And let women, as nobly and heroically
determine to trust to their own energies, but especially to a gracious
Providence, rather than marry without affection—for the sake of worldly toys!

Then there is another error committed by some; having been disappointed in a
relationship which they hoped to form—they become reckless for the future, and
in a temper of mind bordering upon revenge, accept the first individual who may
present himself, whether they love him or not. This is the greatest degree of
folly, and is such an act of suicidal violence upon their own peace, as can
neither be described nor reprobated in terms sufficiently strong! This is to act
like the enraged scorpion and to turn their sting upon themselves; and in an act
of spite—to sacrifice their happiness to folly. But in fact, on whom does this
mad spite fall? Upon the individual who has done them no harm, but that of
attempting to heal the breach that has been made in their happiness, and to whom
in return they carry a heart which they have virtually given to another. How
much more rational, how much more conducive to their own comfort, and how much
more honorable is it in a case like this—to wait until time and piety have
healed the wound, and left the heart at liberty for another attachment—and even
to remain in perpetual celibacy, rather than marry without that which alone can
constitute a virtuous marriage—sincere affection.

3. Marriage should ever be contracted, with the strictest regard to the rules of
PRUDENCE.

Discretion is a virtue—at which none but fools laugh. In reference to no subject
is it more frequently set aside and despised, than in that, which of all that
can be mentioned, most needs its sober counsels. For love to be seen standing at
the oracle of wisdom, is thought, by some romantic and silly young people, to be
a thing altogether out of place. If they only were concerned, they might be left
to their folly, to be punished by its fruits—but imprudent marriages, as we have
already considered, spread far and wide their bad consequences, and also send
these consequences down to posterity! The ’understanding’ is given to us to
control the passions and the imagination; and they who in an affair of such
consequence, as choosing a companion for life, set aside their reason, and
listen only to the ’voice of passion’, have, in that instance at least,
forfeited the character of a rational being, and sunk to the level of those
creatures who are wholly governed by appetite, unchecked by reason.

Prudence would prevent, if it were allowed to guide the conduct of mankind, a
very large portion of human misery. In the business before us, it would allow
none to marry until they had a likeliness of financial support. It is perfectly
obvious to me, that the present generation of young people, are not
distinguished by a discretion of this kind—many are too much in haste to enter
the marital state, and place themselves at the heads of families, before they
have any rational hope of being able to support their families. As soon almost
as they arrive at the age of manhood, whether they have a competent income or
not—before they have ascertained whether their business will succeed or not—they
look round for a wife, and make a hasty, perhaps an injudicious, selection! A
family comes on before they have adequate means of maintaining it; their
finances begin to sink; bankruptcy ensues; their futures are ruined forever;
they become burdens upon their friends; and their misery, together with that of
the partner of their folly, and of their hapless children, is sealed for the
term of their existence upon earth!

How many instances of this kind have we known, and which may be considered as
sad, and true, and impressive comments on the imprudence of imprudent marriages.
Let young people exercise their reason and their foresight; or if they will not,
but are determined to rush into the expenses of a home and family, before they
have opened sources to meet them, let them hear, in spite of the ’syren song of
their imagination’—the voice of faithful warning, and prepare to eat the bitter
herbs of useless regrets, for many a long and weary year after the nuptial feast
has passed away!

Prudence forbids all UNEQUAL marriages. There should be an equality as near as
may be in AGE; "for," says Mr Jay, "how unnatural, how indecent, is it to see an
old man surrounded with infants and babes, when he can scarcely see or hear,
because of the infirmities of old age! How unnatural, how odious is it to see a
young man fastened to a piece of antiquity, so as to perplex strangers to
determine whether he is living with a wife or a mother." No one will give the
woman in the one case, or the man in the other, the credit of marrying for love;
and the world will be ill-natured enough, and one can hardly help joining in the
censoriousness, to say that such matches are mere monetary speculations; for
generally speaking, the old party in the union, is a rich one; and as generally
they carry a scourge for the other in their purse. A fortune has often thus been
a misfortune for both!

Equality of RANK is desirable, or as near to it as possible. Instances have
occurred in which respectable men have married servants, and yet maintained
their respectability, and enjoyed a full cup of family comfort—but these cases
are rare and generally contain some circumstances of peculiarity. And it is much
less perilous for a rich man to descend into the valley of poverty for a
wife—than it is for a rich woman to go down for a husband. He can much more
easily raise his companion to his own level, than she can. Society will much
more readily accommodate themselves to his error, than to hers. Much of the
happiness of the marital state, depends upon the relatives of the parties, and
if the marriage has offended them, if it has degraded them, how much of
bitterness is it in their power to throw into the cup of enjoyment. Many a wife
has carried to her grave the sting inflicted upon her peace, by the insults of
her husband’s friends—and in all such cases, he must receive a part of the
venom!

"It has been said that no class of men err so much in this article, as
ministers. But surely this cannot be admitted. It cannot be supposed that those
whose office it is to inculcate prudence, should themselves be proverbial for
indiscretion. It cannot be supposed that those whose incomes are limited, and
whose circumstances demand economy, would bring into the management of them,
those who have been trained up in delicacy and extravagance; and are helpless
and wasteful. It cannot be supposed that men, whose office is respectable, and
productive of social communion, would select vulgarity and ignorance, unfit to
be either seen or heard, merely because it is pious. A minister is to inculcate
order and regularity; and would he marry a female that would render his house a
scene of confusion and tumult? A minister is to show how the claims of life and
religion harmonize, and to assign to the duties of each, their own place and
season; and would he marry a rattle-brain, who, instead of being a keeper at
home, has been always rambling after some new preacher; who instead of quietly
glorifying God in her own sphere of responsibility, has been endeavoring to
excite public attention; who has been zealous in matters of doubtful
disputation, but has treated, as beneath her regard, matters of common
obligations? Need he be told, that a befitting behavior in a lower and private
station, is the surest pledge of, and the best preparation for, a proper
behavior in a higher and more private situation! A minister is to recommend
neatness, and all the decencies of life—and would he marry an untidy slovenly
woman? A minister is to show, that the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, is
in the sight of God, of great price—and would he marry a quarrelsome and abusive
woman? A minister is to stand in the same relation to all his people who demand
his love and service—and would he marry a woman who would fondly attach herself
to a few cronies, listen to all their secrets, and divulge her own, and form
schemes and schisms, which will render his residence unpleasant, or occasion his
removal?" To my brethren in the ministry I do recommend, and recommend with an
earnestness which I have no language sufficiently emphatic to express—the
greatest caution in this most delicate and important affair. In their case, the
effects of an imprudent marriage, are felt in the church of the living God. If
the wives of the deacons are to be "grave, not slanderers, sober, faithful in
all things," what less can be required of the wives of the pastors? "A pastor
must be a man whose life cannot be spoken against. He must exhibit self-control,
live wisely, and have a good reputation. He must be gentle, peace loving, and
not one who loves money. He must manage his own family well, with children who
respect and obey him. For if a man cannot manage his own household, how can he
take care of God’s church?" 1 Timothy 3:2-5 But how can he exhibit in his
family, the beautiful order and harmony which should prevail in every Christian
family, and especially in every minister’s house, without the intelligent and
industrious cooperation of his wife—and how can this be expected of one who has
no intelligence or industry? Not only much of the comfort, but of the character
of a minister, depends upon his wife! And what is of still greater consequence,
much of his usefulness! How many have been driven away from scenes of successful
labor, or rendered uncomfortable in the midst of them—by their wives
mismanagement—who have plunged their husbands into debt, and thus blasted their
respectability—or by that pride, petulance, vulgarity, baseness, and busy
meddling—by which they have involved them in perpetual strife with their
neighbors, tradesmen, or their congregation!

Considering, therefore, how much mischief may be done by their wives
indiscretion, ministers should raise imprudence in marriage to the rank of a
great sin. And then their guilt in the commission of this sin is the greater, as
they have less excuse for it than others; for they have only to exercise
patience, and to restrain themselves from hasty and injudicious entanglements,
and to avail themselves of the extended opportunity which their situation gives
them, to obtain a companion that shall be to them, both as men and ministers, a
helper of their joy.

Some widowers in selecting a second wife have consulted their children’s comfort
more than their own taste; whether this be right or wrong in their case, we
shall presently consider; but certainly a minister while he is allowed the usual
privilege of following his own arrangements, ought never to gratify his taste,
at the expense of his official respectability, or at the risk of his
usefulness—but in the choice of a wife, should be guided by a view to the
comfort of his church—as well as by a reference to his own happiness.

4. Marriage should always be formed, with a due regard to the dictates of TRUE
RELIGION. A godly Christian should not marry anyone who is not also godly. It is
not desirable to be united to an individual even of a different denomination,
and who, as a point of conscience, attends her own place of worship. It is not
pleasant on a sabbath morning to separate, and go one to one place of worship,
and the other to another. The most delightful walk that a holy couple can take,
is to the house of God in company, and when, in reference to the high themes of
redemption and the invisible realities of eternity—they take sweet counsel
together. No one would willingly lose this blessing. But oh to walk separately
in a still more important and dreadful sense! To part at the point where the two
roads to eternity branch off—the one to heaven, the other to hell; and for the
believer to travel on to glory, with the dreadful consciousness, that the other
party is journeying to perdition!! This is indeed dreadful, and is of itself
sufficient to occasion no small diminishing of marital felicity. If however, the
comfort of the parties only were concerned, it would be a matter of less
consequence—but it is a matter of conscience, and an affair in which we have no
option. "She is at liberty to marry whom she will," says the apostle, speaking
to the case of a widow, "but only in the Lord." Now though this was said in
reference to a female, all the reasons of the law belong with equal force to the
other sex. This appears to me to be not only advice, but law—and is as binding
upon the conscience as any other law that we find in the word of God; and the
’incidental manner’ in which this injunction occurs, is, as has been very
properly remarked, to the intelligent reader of scripture, the strongest
confirmation of the rule in all cases, where marriage is in prospect, and where
there has been no engagement previous to conversion. As to the other passage,
where the apostle commands us not to be unequally yoked together with
unbelievers, it does not apply to marriage, except by inference, but to church
fellowship, or rather to association and conduct in general, in reference to
which, professing Christians are not to join with unbelievers. But if this be
improper in regard to other matters—how much more so in that relationship which
has so powerful an influence over our character, as well as our happiness. For a
Christian, then, to marry an individual who is not decidedly and evidently a
godly person, is a direct opposition to the word of God! And as scripture is
against it, so also is reason; for "how can two walk together, except they be
agreed." A difference of taste in minor matters is an impediment in the way of
family comfort—but to be opposed to each other on the all-important subject of
religion, is a risk, even as it respects our comfort, which no prudent person
should be induced, on any considerations, to incur. How can the higher ends of
family constitution be answered, where one of the parents has not the spiritual
qualifications necessary for accomplishing them? How can the work of religious
education be conducted, and the children be trained in the nurture and
admonition of the Lord? And as it respects individual and personal assistance in
religious matters, do we not all need helps instead of hindrances? A Christian
should make everything bend to religion, but allow religion to bend to nothing.
This is the one thing needful, to which everything should be subordinate; and
surely, to place out of consideration, the affairs of his eternal salvation, in
so important an affair as marriage, show, either that the religion of a person
who acts thus, is but profession—or likely soon to become so. The neglect of
this plain and reasonable rule is becoming, I am afraid, more and more
prevalent. In the excellent treatise of Mr. Jay, he makes the following just and
important remarks. "How deplorable is it that this Christian rule of marriage is
so frequently trampled upon. The violation is, in the degree of it at least,
peculiar to our own age. Our pious ancestors, would have been shocked at the
practice, as appears from their invaluable writings. And I am persuaded that it
is very much owing to the prevalence of these indiscriminate and unhallowed
relationships, that we have fallen so far short of those men of God who are gone
before us, in our seclusion from the world, in the simplicity of our lives, in
the uniformity of our profession, in the discharge of family worship, and in the
training up of our households in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." No one
should contemplate the prospect of such a relationship as marriage, without the
greatest and most serious deliberation; nor without the most earnest prayer to
God for direction. Prayer, however, to be acceptable to the Almighty, should be
sincere, and should be presented with a real desire to know and do his will.
Many, I believe, act towards God, as they do towards their friends; they make up
their minds, and then ask to be directed. They have some doubts, and very often
strong ones, of the propriety of the step they are about to take, which are
gradually dissipated by their supplications, until they have prayed themselves
into a conviction that they are quite right in the decision, which they have, in
fact, already made. To pray for direction in an affair which we know to be in
opposition to God’s word, and on which we have already resolved to act, is
adding hypocrisy to rebellion. If there be reason to believe that the individual
who solicits a Christian to unite herself with him in marriage, is not truly
pious, what need has she of praying to be directed? This seems like asking the
Almighty to be permitted to do that which he has already forbidden to be done in
his word. In the case of WIDOWS and WIDOWERS, especially where there is a
family, peculiar prudence is necessary. I have known instances in which such
people have sacrificed all their own tastes and predilections, and have made
their selection with exclusive reference to their children. Such a sacrifice is
indeed generous; but it may become a question whether it is discreet. It is
placing their own comfort, and even character, in some degree of peril, neither
of which can be lost without most serious damage to those very children whose
interests they have so heroically consulted. This, however, is an error much
more rare and venial than that of the opposite extreme.

How unseemly and inconsiderate is it for a sixty year old widower, to bring home
a young wife, and place her over daughters older than herself, and introduce
into the family circle aunts and uncles, younger than some of the nephews and
nieces. Rare is the case in which such improper relationships are formed,
without the authors of them losing much of their own reputation, and destroying
much of the comfort of their families. Let not such men wonder, if their
daughters by the first marriage, are driven from their home by the consequences
of the second; and are led to form imprudent matches, to which they were led by
the force of parental example, and urged by the consequences of parental folly.
In the selection of a second companion for life, where the first had been
eminent for talents or virtues, much care should be taken that there be no great
and striking inferiority, which would form a contrast ever present, and ever
painful. The man who never knew by experience the joy of a happy marriage, can
never know the ills of an imprudent one, as aggravated by the power of
comparison. Let him who has thus known them, beware how he exposes himself to
such helpless, hopeless misery.

Due care should also be exercised in reference to the children’s interests. Has
the woman about to be selected, that principle, that prudence, that
self-control, that good temper, which, if she becomes herself a mother, will
help her to conceal her partialities, for to suppress them is impossible, and
would be unnatural, and to seem no less kind to her adopted offspring, than to
her own? That man acts a most cruel, a most wicked, part towards the memory of
his first wife, who does not provide for her children, a kind and judicious
friend in his second wife. What is it but a dread of this that has made some
women, when upon their dying bed, break through the rules of propriety, and
recommend their successor in the arms, and heart, and house of their husbands?
They trembled for their children, and seemed at that sad moment, to have become
willing to be forgotten, provided their babes could find a second mother in her
that was to fill their place. Let me then become the advocate of fatherless or
motherless children, and entreat, for the sake, both of the living and the dead,
a due regard for the comfort of these orphans. Nor should less deliberation be
exercised by the party who is about to take, or invited to take the care of
another person’s children. Have they love enough for the parent, to bear the
burden of care for his children? Have they kindness enough, temper enough,
discretion enough, for such a situation, and for such an office? There is no
difficulty where the children are lovely in person, and amiable in temper; but
when they have no personal attractions, no charms of mind, no endearments of
character, then is the time to realize the truth of Mr. Jay’s expression, "a
wife may be supplied, a mother cannot." The man or the woman that can act a
parent’s part towards a froward and spoiled child, must have more than nature,
for this belongs only to a real parent, they must have principle and kindness,
and need have grace. Let all who are invited to take the superintendence of a
family, ask themselves, if they possess the requisites for the comfortable and
satisfactory discharge of its duties. Let them enquire whether it is likely they
can be happy in such a situation themselves; for if not, they had far better
never enter it, as their unhappiness must inevitably fill the whole family
circle with misery.

It cannot be sufficiently deplored, that all suitable preparation for the
marriage state, is usually put aside for the busy activities of vanity, which in
fact are but as dust in the balance of the marital destiny. Every thought, and
anticipation, and concern, is too often absorbed in the selection of a house,
and furniture; and in matters still more insignificant and frivolous. How common
is it for a female to spend those hours day after day, and week after week, in
communion with her seamstress, debating and discussing the subject of the color,
and form, and material, in which she is to shine forth in nuptial splendor,
(which ought to be employed in meditating the eventful step, which is to fix for
life her destiny, and that of her intended husband)—as if the great object were
to appear a mirthful and fashionable bride—rather than to be a good and happy
wife. And most pitiable is it to see some mothers ministering to this folly, and
flattering the vanity of their daughters, instead of preparing them by judicious
and seasonable counsels, for discharging the duties of that new and important
relationship, into which they are about to enter.

"Study," says an old author, "the duties of marriage before you enter into it.
There are crosses to be borne, there are snares to be avoided, and manifold
obligations to be discharged, as well as great felicity to be enjoyed. And
should no provision be made? For lack of this forethought, result the frequent
disappointments in the wedded life. Hence that repentance which is at once too
soon and too late. The husband knows not how to rule; and the wife knows not how
to obey. Both are ignorant, both conceited, and both miserable."

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.
Seek his will in all you do, and he will direct your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6


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  CHAPTER 7: 01.06.     THE DUTIES OF PARENTS
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The duties of PARENTS

"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the
training and instruction of the Lord." Ephesians 6:4 "Train up a child in the
way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." Proverbs 22:6

"These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress
them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk
along the road, when you lie down and when you get up." Deuteronomy 6:6-7

It is an interesting and important era in the history of family life, when the
husband and wife receive the new names of father and mother, and become united
by the supplemental tie which is furnished by the little helpless stranger, so
lately introduced into the family. Who that has felt them, can ever forget the
emotions awakened by the first gaze upon the face of his child, by the first
embrace of his babe? Little, however, do the bulk of mankind consider what a
weight of obligation, what a degree of responsibility that child has brought
into the world with him, for his parents. In the joyousness with which the
mother lavishes her fond embraces upon her boy, and in the paternal pride with
which the father looks on this new object of their affection, how rarely does
either of them revolve in deep seriousness—the future destiny of this new ’idol
of their hearts’—or consider how nearly that destiny is connected with their own
conduct.

Parental obligations are neither felt nor known by multitudes. How then can they
be discharged? Rushing into the relationship of marriage under the mere impulse
of passion, without forethought, without prudence, multitudes become parents,
before they have one right view, or one right feeling, in reference to the
duties of the parental relationship; to which they come with scarcely any other
preparedness, than that mere animal fondness for their young, which they partake
of in common with the irrational creation; but not with that same instinctive
ability, "to train them up in the way they should go." Who can wonder at the
disordered state of society at large, or be surprised at the aboundings of evils
and miseries in our world, that looks at the manner in which family duties are
neglected? When I consider what poor, ignorant, thoughtless, frivolous, wicked
creatures are often seen at the head of households, I can only ascribe it to the
interference of an all-wise and powerful Providence, that society is not far
more chaotic than it is. My business in this chapter is to endeavor to rectify,
if possible, some of these evils, and to lay down a rule to guide the parent in
discharging his truly important, and awfully responsible obligation; persuaded
as I am, that many of the evils and miseries of society would vanish before a
right performance of parental duties.

1. It is impossible for parents to discharge their duty, without a correct view
of the nature and design of the family constitution. This they should study, and
arrive at the conclusion as speedily as possible, and keep it ever before the
mind, that the great design of this compact is, to form well the character of
the children; to train up the citizen for the world, and the Christian for the
church; to assist the child, as a mortal, to go with honor and comfort through
this life; and as an immortal, to reach life everlasting. The family circle is
intended to be the school of character, where, in the highest sense of the term,
the most important business of education is to be conducted; where the moral
sense is to be implanted and cultivated, and the conscience, and the temper, and
the heart, are all to be trained.

2. Parents should be most deeply impressed and affected with a sense of the
importance of the station they occupy in the family constitution. Their state of
mind should be the very opposite of that light and frivolous indifference—that
absence of all concern, which many of them manifest. There are some who seem to
regard their children as pretty little living playthings, who must be well taken
care of, and be taught, by somebody or other, whatever will set them off to the
best advantage—but as to any idea of the formation of their character,
especially of their moral and religious character, and any of that deep and
painful, and almost overwhelming, solicitude, which arises from a clear
perception and powerful impression of the probable relationship between the
child’s destiny and the parent’s conduct—to all this they are utter strangers.

Many horticulturalists have far more intense solicitude about the developing of
their plants, far more wakeful and anxious care about the fragrance and color of
a flower, or the size and flavor of a fruit—than many parents have about the
development of mind, and the formation of character in a child. They have plants
of immortality in their house, they have young trees which are to bear fruits to
eternity, growing up around them, the training of which is committed to their
care—and yet have very little solicitude, and scarcely any thoughtfulness,
whether they yield in this world or the next, poisonous or wholesome fruit. On
parents it depends in a great measure what their children are to be—miserable or
happy in themselves—a comfort or a curse to their relationships—an ornament or a
deformity to society—a fiend or a seraph in eternity! It is indeed a fearsome
thing to be a parent, and is enough to awaken the anxious, trembling enquiry in
every heart, "Lord, who is sufficient for these things?"

3. Parents should seek after the possession of all possible QUALIFICATIONS for
their office.

What man in his senses would undertake the office of a pilot upon a dangerous
coast, without a knowledge of navigation? Or that of a general of an army,
without a knowledge of military tactics? Or that of a physician, without a
knowledge of medicine and diseases? And who would go on another hour in the
office of parent, without seeking to possess all suitable qualifications? And
what are they?—

Genuine personal religion—for how can they bring up children in the nurture and
admonition of the Lord, if they do not know the Lord for themselves? In order to
teach religion with any probable effect, we must know it ourselves. That parent
will have little ability, and less inclination, to inculcate piety upon his
children, who has none himself. A graceless parent is a most dreadful character!
Oh! to see the father and mother of a expanding family, with a crowd of young
immortals growing up around them, and teaching worldliness to their offspring,
and leading them to perdition, by the power of their own example! A sheep
leading her twin lambs into the den of a hungry tiger would be a shocking sight!
But to see parents conducting their children to the bottomless pit, is most
horrible!! No one, then, can rightly discharge the duties of a parent, in the
higher reference of the family unit, without that personal religion which
consists in repentance towards God, faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, and a life
of habitual holiness. In the absence of this, the highest end of the family
constitution must be neglected, the most sublime part of education must be
abandoned.

Parents should seek the entire government of their temper—a habit of
self-control; a meekness not to be disturbed by the greatest provocation; a
patience not to be wearied by long continued opposition. I say to any father or
mother, are you irritable, or petulant? If so, begin this moment the work of
subjugating your temper. You are in imminent peril of ruining your family! A
passionate mother or father, is like a fury, with a scepter in one hand, and a
firebrand in the other; and when the king is a fury, the subjects are likely to
be furies too; for nothing is more contagious than bad temper! O how many
parents have had to bewail with weeping eyes and almost broken hearts, the
effects of their own irritability as apparent in the headstrong, passionate
dispositions of their children. Passion blinds the judgment, leads to undue
severity, fosters partialities, in short, is the source of a thousand evils in
the family government. An irritable person can never manage discipline with
propriety, but is ever prone to correct, when correction should never be
administered—in a rage. Parents, I beseech you to control your temper, and
acquire a calm, composed disposition—for this only can fit you to rule your
household in wisdom, justice, and love. A habit of discrimination is a very
important qualification in parents—a penetrating insight into character; an
acuteness in judging of motives. Such a talent is of immense importance in the
family community; and connected with this, a quickness of discerning
disposition, together with an inventive and ingenious faculty of adapting
treatment to the varieties of character and propensity which are continually
exhibiting themselves. A kindness of manner, an affectionate, persuasive address
is of great importance. It is desirable for parents to render themselves
pleasant to their children—to engage their confidence, to exert over them the
influence of love, which certainly cannot be done by a cold, or churlish, or
distant behavior.

Prudence and good sense are qualities of such inestimable worth, and depend so
much upon education, that all who have the care of children, should perpetually
exhibit them for imitation. A rash, thoughtless father—or a wild, unrealistic
mother—do incalculable mischief in a family.

Firmness is essentially requisite in parents; that disposition, which, though at
the remotest distance from all that is rigid, stern, and cruel, can master its
own feelings, and amid the strongest appeals to the tenderer emotions of the
mind, can inflexibly maintain its purpose; and in the way of denying improper
requests, or administering correction—can inflict pain on the object of its
affection, whenever duty requires such an exercise of beneficial severity. For
lack of this disposition, of this fine and noble quality, how many have ruined
their children forever by over-indulgence!

Extensive knowledge is very desirable. Parents should be able to direct the
studies, to answer the enquiries, to correct the mistakes, to regulate the
pursuits, and in short, to superintend the general instruction of their
families.

Unvarying and inflexible consistency should be exhibited by all whom providence
has placed at the head of a household. They should be not only excellent, but
consistently excellent. An unbroken uniformity should reign over their whole
character. Nothing contradictory, inexplicable, irreconcilable, should ever be
seen.

Let all who are likely to become parents, look at this picture and learn how
they are to prepare for the performance of their duty. And let those who already
sustain this relationship, correct their errors and supply their defects by this
rule.

4. Parents should settle, with themselves, what is their chief desire and
highest object of pursuit, in reference to their children.

Without fixing on some end, we shall never in any course of action, proceed with
much steadiness, comfort, or success—and where many ends are, and may be with
propriety contemplated and sought, the chief one must be definitely selected,
and continually kept in view—or we shall ever be in danger of misapplying our
energies. Let parents, then, consider the ends which they should propose to
themselves, in reference to their children, and decide among all those that are
lawful, which is supreme, and which are subordinate.

There are many lawful ones, but only one of these can be supreme. And what is
that? RELIGION. What Christian can for a moment hesitate here? What genuine
believer can for a moment question whether his children’s eternal salvation
ought to be the supreme concern of his heart? If we look to the great bulk of
mankind it is perfectly evident that religion hardly enters into their view;
they are very willing that their children should go to church, but as to any
concern about the religious character, the formation of pious habits, they are
as destitute of everything of this kind, as if religion were a mere fable, or
were nothing more than a mere Sunday ritual. Their chief object is, either
elegant and fashionable accomplishments, or learning and science, or perhaps
prudence and good sense; and provided their sons and daughters excel in these,
they never make any enquiry or feel any concern whether they fear God; and would
be not only surprised, but would either laugh you to scorn, or scowl upon you
with indignation, for proposing such fanatical or methodistical questions in
reference to their children.

Yes, this is the way of the greater part of parents, even in this religious
country. To train them up to shine and make a figure in society, is all they
seek. Amazing folly! Dreadful and murderous cruelty! Degrading and groveling
ambition! To lose sight of the soul, and neglect salvation, and forget
immortality! To train them in every kind of knowledge—but the knowledge of
religion; to instruct them in an acquaintance with every kind of subject—but to
leave them in ignorance of God their Creator, their Preserver and Benefactor! To
fit them to act their part well on earth—and to leave them unprepared for
heaven! To qualify them to go with respectability and advantage through the
scenes of time, and then to leave them unfit for the glorious and enduring
scenes of eternity! O strange fondness of irreligious parents! O miserable
destiny of their hapless offspring! In direct opposition to this, the chief end
of every Christian parent must be the spiritual interests, the religious
character, the eternal salvation of his children. Believing that they are sinful
and immortal creatures, yet capable of being redeemed through the mediation of
Christ—his highest ambition, his most earnest prayer, his most vigorous pursuit
should be engaged for their eternal welfare. His eye, his heart, and his hope,
should be fixed on the same objects for them, as they are for himself, and that
is, upon eternal life. This should be the nature and exercise of his concern—"I
am desirous, if it pleases God, that my children should be blessed with the
enjoyment of reason, of health, of such a moderate portion of worldly wealth,
and worldly respectability as is compatible with their station in life—and with
a view to this I will give them all the advantages of a suitable education. But
above and beyond this, I far more intensely desire, and far more earnestly pray,
and far more anxiously seek, that they may have the fear of God in their hearts,
may be made partakers of true religion, and be everlastingly saved. And provided
God grants me the latter, by bestowing upon them his grace, I shall feel that my
chief object is accomplished, and be quite reconciled to any circumstances which
may otherwise befall them; for rather would I see them in the humble valley of
poverty—if at the same time they were true Christians; than on the very pinnacle
of worldly grandeur—but destitute of true piety." Such should be the views and
feelings and desires of all true Christian parents; religion should be at the
very center of all their schemes and pursuits for their offspring. This should
be the guiding principle, the directing object, the great landmark by which all
their course should be steered.

Having made these preliminary remarks, I go on to enumerate and illustrate the
various branches of parental duty.

FIRST. There are some which relate more directly to the present life, and the
formation of the character generally.

1. Maintenance of physical needs is of course a claim which every child justly
has upon his parents, until he is of sufficient age to be able to provide for
himself.

2. EDUCATION is another duty we owe our children. The dark ages are happily
passed away, and a flood of light is now poured, and is still pouring over all
classes of the people. Instruction has become general, and even they who are too
poor to buy knowledge for their children, are not ashamed to beg it in our
Sunday and charity schools. No man should allow his family to be in this
respect, behind the age in which they live. To grudge the money spent in this
way is a cruel and detestable niggardliness. A good education is a portion, the
only one which some are able to give to their children, and which in many cases,
has led to every other kind of wealth. In this, however, we are to be guided by
our rank in life and circumstances; and for a laboring man, or a small
tradesman, to impoverish himself in order to procure the same kind and degrees
of accomplishments for his children, as a rich man and a nobleman would for
theirs, is an ambition sanctioned neither by reason nor revelation. Where it can
be accomplished, parents should prefer family instruction, to sending their
children away from home—no school can possess the advantages which are to be
enjoyed under the eye of a judicious father or mother. But how few are
judicious; how few are equal to the task of a general superintendence of the
business of instruction; and how few can command the advantages of it at home.
Let all such be careful in the selection of a school, for it is a matter of
infinite consequence. Let them be guided in their choice, not by a mere regard
to accomplishments, not by a view to the best drawing, dancing, music, or Latin
master. This is an age of gaudy, exterior decoration. But let them first regard
religion, then, the real cultivation of the mind and the formation of good
habits. Wherever real piety is inculcated, a thirst for knowledge excited, and
habits of application, reflection, sobriety of judgment, and good sense are
formed, that is the school to be selected by a wise and Christian parent. No
word is more abused than that of EDUCATION, which in the mind of many, signifies
nothing more than the communication of knowledge. But this is only a part, and a
small part, of education—which, in fact, means the formation of character. A
youth may have his head stuffed full of Latin, Greek, mathematics, and natural
philosophy; a girl may draw, and dance, and play, and speak French exquisitely,
and yet be miserably educated after all. Integrity, good sense, generosity, and
a capacity for reflection—are worth more than all the academics which a
university can bestow. Not, however, that these are incompatible with each
other; by no means—and the perfection of education is the union of both.

3. A due regard to the HEALTH of children should be maintained.

Physical education is of no small importance. Knowledge gained at the expense of
health is purchased at a dreadful rate. And there are other ways of injuring the
health of children, besides a too close application of learning, for this indeed
but rarely occurs. Fond and foolish mothers should be warned against pampering
their appetites with sweets, clogging their arteries with fats, or injuring
their stomachs with fermented liquors. Infanticide is practiced even in this
Christian land, by many who never dream that they are child murderers—they do
not kill their babes by strangling or poisoning them; no, but by pampering or
stuffing them to death! And where they go not to this extreme, they breed up a
circle of gluttons, or drunkards. Nothing can be more disgusting than to see
children invited to eat all the delicacies of the dinner, and to drink liquors,
with which their young palates ought to be strangers to. And lamentably
injudicious it is to make the gratification of the appetite a reward for good
conduct, and to have them ushered into the parlour, before they retire to rest,
to receive the luscious sweet, which is the bribe for their going quietly to
bed. The mischief goes beyond the corruption of their health, for it brings them
up to be governed by appetite, rather than by reason; which is, in fact, the
secret cause of all the intemperance and profligacy of the world. Settle your
plans on this subject, and allow neither a favorite friend, nor a kind aunt, nor
a doting grandparent, to come between you and the welfare of your children.

4. Bring up your children with low notions of the importance of RICHES and
worldly show, and of the power which these things have either to give
respectability to the character, or to procure happiness. Do not let them hear
you magnify the value of wealth by your words—nor see you do it by your actions.
Avoid a servile attention to the rich and great—do not point to them as the
individuals most to be admired and envied. Discover no undue solicitude about
grandeur of abode, or furniture. From the time that they are capable of
receiving an idea, or an impression, teach them it is godly character that
constitutes true respectability—that a good man is reputable in any
circumstances, a bad man in none. Remind them of the danger of riches, and that
they are Satan’s baits to tempt men to love the world, and lose their souls. Not
that you should produce a cynical disposition towards either riches or the rich;
much less repress industry, and foster indolence. No—but encourage them to
consider and seek wealth, rather as a means of usefulness, than a source of
personal gratification.

5. Inculcate INDUSTRIOUS HABITS.

Caution them against idleness and slothfulness. From the dawn of reason endeavor
to convince them not merely by argument, but by a reference to their own
experience, that employment is pleasure—and idleness misery. Impress them with
the value of time; that it is the stuff of which life is made, and that we lose
as much of life as we do of time. And connected with this, enforce habits of
order and punctuality. The parent that neglects to do this, is guilty of
enormous unkindness towards his children; who, if they grow up without these,
hinder and trouble themselves—and are a source of tremendous discomfort to their
friends.

6. ECONOMY is no less necessary. Industry and economy are virtues of civilized
life. Savages never possess them, but spend their time in idleness, and squander
what comes in their way in wastefulness. It is reason overcoming the laziness
which is natural to man, that produces industry and economy; and when we
consider how important they are to the well being, not only of individuals, but
of society, our efforts should be employed to foster them in the minds of our
children. But, in inculcating economy, we must be careful not to drive the mind
into covetousness; hence it is of consequence, that with all our endeavors to
cherish frugality, we should be no less assiduous to encourage generosity; and
to impress them with the idea, that the end of saving, is not to hoard—but to
distribute to the needs of others.

7. Provide for your children suitable EMPLOYMENT. Happily the pride and
indolence of feudal times are gone by, and it is our felicity to live in a
country where trade and industry are accounted honorable; where a proud
gentleman, who scorns the vulgarity of trade, begins to be thought a very
despicable character; and the diligent, honest, and successful tradesman,
regarded as an honorable member of the community. "The good, sound common sense
of mankind will never annex ’good character’ to a useless life. He who merely
hangs as a burden on the shoulders of his fellow men, who adds nothing to the
common stock of comfort, and merely spends his time in devouring it, will be
invariably, as well as justly accounted a public nuisance."

Let parents therefore, take care to bring up their children to some suitable
business; in the selection of which, due regard should be had to their own
circumstances; for it is great folly and unkindness also to select for a child a
business, so much above his father’s station and property, as to leave no
rational hope that he can ever enter upon it with a prospect of success. In the
advance of society we see innumerable instances of foolish pride of this
kind—and indeed it is a pretty general thing for parents to be ambitious to
obtain for their children a higher grade in society than their own. Many who
have really acquired wealth in a reputable, though perhaps not the most genteel
trade, (for trades have their aristocratic distinctions,) seem anxious that
their sons should be a step higher than themselves, and instead of sending them
to business, look out for a profession, and there is a wondrous rage for
professions in the present day—or if they are retail tradesmen, must make their
sons wholesale ones; or if they are manufacturers must start them as merchants;
and if they are merchants, must elevate them into gentlemen. What abject folly
is it for a man to turn away the attention of his children from any good and
honorable business, which he has followed with success, merely because it is not
genteel.

Let every Christian tradesman, who has a business worth following, keep as many
of his sons as he can at home with him, and educate them himself for trade in
his own warehouse. Due attention must, of course, always be paid in the
selection of a business, to the physical strength, to the mental capacity, and
to the prevailing taste of a child.

8. GENEROSITY should be most assiduously inculcated.

All children, and consequently all mankind, are more or less selfish by nature.
This should be early watched and checked by a judicious parent, and an opposite
disposition inculcated. Even infants may be made to feel the pleasure of sharing
their possessions with others. Let them be taught that enjoyment arises not from
individual gratification, but from a communion in pleasure. As children advance
in years and reason, they should hear much of the happiness arising from
gratifying others; of the luxury of benevolence, and of the baseness of
greediness. We should emphasize the beauty of generous actions, and of
beneficent examples. Anecdotes of remarkable generosity should be read to them,
and especially should we dwell upon the wondrous love of God, and the remarkable
compassion of Jesus Christ. We should send them on errands of mercy to the poor
and needy, that being spectators both of their misery, and of their tears of
gratitude for relief, they might acquire a disposition to do good. We should
especially encourage them to make sacrifices, and practice self-denial, to do
good. To give them extra money, in order that they may relieve the poor, or
support religious institutions, is doing them very little good; for this is only
being generous at other people’s expense; but they should be induced to save
their own pocket money, and distribute their regular allowance, and thus forego
the gratification of their own palate, for the purpose of relieving the needs of
others. But they should never be compelled to give, never have their money taken
for this purpose; never be fined for misconduct, and have their fines
appropriated to charity; for all this is calculated to disgust them with
benevolence.

Great care should be taken at the same time, not to induce a habit of
indiscriminate giving, which would render them the dupes of hypocrisy, the
subjects of imposition, and the victims of extortion. We should teach them the
difference between real benevolence and that easy good nature, which allows
itself to be wheedled out of everything; between the generosity of a correct
judgment, and that of a weak and credulous mind; between principle and mere
feeling.

9. PRUDENCE is of vast importance in the affairs of life. This is, next to
piety, the most valuable quality of character. Nothing can be a substitute for
it; and it does more for the comfort of its possessor, more for the happiness of
society than any other attribute of mind that can be mentioned. Half the
miseries of some peoples lives, who are good people too, arise from a rash,
thoughtless, indiscreet mind. They never think before they speak or act—they
have no power, or exercise none, of forethought, deliberation, or calculation.
Such people are firebrands, without intending it; and commit immense mischief,
without, perhaps, a particle of malice. How important, then, that children
should be early taught the nature and value of discretion. Many parents most
flagrantly err on this subject—some are anxious only to communicate knowledge;
forgetting that ’mere ideas’ are worth nothing—except as they are discreetly
employed to produce happiness. Knowledge is only the materials of comfort; it is
wisdom that must put them together into form and consistency.

Others almost despise prudence; as it is not a scientific quality. It cramps
genius, extinguishes taste, prevents the lofty, though somewhat erratic flights
of an ardent mind; it is cold and calculating; it has nothing sublime or
romantic about it; it never soars into the clouds, or plunges into the
depths—but holds on its dull course on the low level of ordinary concerns. And
therefore, just on this very account, it is the very thing to be coveted.
Foolish, foolish creatures! And so you would have your children geniuses, that
disdain the restraints of wisdom, and resemble mere fireworks, that burn and
blaze out only to please others by their brilliancy and splendor, without doing
good to anyone! O be not so cruel to yourselves, to your children, to society.
Teach them to cultivate a deliberative, a reflecting, a calculating judgment; to
weigh their words, and measure their actions; enforce upon them a habit of
looking onward to the tendency and results of conduct; the calm and regular
government of the soul, which leads its possessor to observe true measures, and
a suitable decorum in words, and thoughts, and actions. Give them all the
learning you can procure for them; I quarrel not with this—but in your own
estimation, and in all your conduct towards them, exalt wisdom far above
learning, genius, taste, accomplishments; and in this sense of the word, teach
them that the price of WISDOM is above rubies.

Now I am anxious to impress upon the mind of all parents, that the inculcation
of these dispositions, forms in fact, the very essence of education. This term,
as I have already remarked, and I repeat the sentiment again and again, not by
accident or oversight, but with the design of more deeply impressing it, has
been very generally misapplied, because, in fact, misunderstood. Education in
modern parlance, means nothing more than instruction, or the communication of
knowledge to the mind; and a good education means, the opportunity of acquiring
all kinds of learning, science, and what are called accomplishments. But
properly speaking, education in the true and higher import of the term, means
the implanting of right dispositions, the cultivation of the heart, the guidance
of the temper, the formation of the character. Or allowing, as we must, that
education applies to the whole soul and character, and includes general
instruction in knowledge, I would say that its most important part is that which
relates to the communication of godly principles, and the formation of moral
habits. It is training up a child in the way he should go. Not merely the
training up a child in the way he should think, or calculate, or spell, or
dance, or draw, or reason—but the way in which he should go. Everything may be
taught which can sharpen the faculties, or store the mind with ideas, or
cultivate the taste; but we must not stop here, but consider that the highest
end of education, is the formation, first of the religious character, and then
of the useful, amiable, intelligent, and generous member of the social
community.

If this be true, and who will venture to deny it, then is it perfectly manifest,
that the great work of education cannot be, and ought not to be transferred from
parents to others. They may purchase that schooling which their own abilities
may disqualify them from imparting, but the education of the character belongs
to them, and cannot be transferred.

Here I cannot resist the temptation of introducing a long extract from Mr.
Anderson’s incomparable work. "Placed by the all-wise providence of heaven in
such a peculiar situation, it will be well for you to keep especially in view,
what may be denominated, the education of circumstances. Let purchased tuition
be carried up to the very highest perfection, and let neither money nor wisdom
be spared in reaching this height; of such vital importance in the training of
children, is that department to which I now refer, that it can, and if neglected
will, undermine and undo the whole, as well as render many efforts in educating
the disposition, altogether abortive. Allow me to explain my meaning—

"In the laudable concern of their hearts, two parents with a family of infants
playing around their feet, are heard to say, ’Oh! what will, what can best
educate these dear children?’ I reply, ’Look to yourselves and your
circumstances.’ Maxims and books are good in themselves, and especially good for
the regulation of your conduct and your behavior towards them—but with regard to
your children, you have yet often to remark, that many maxims are good precisely
until they are tried, or applied, and no longer. In the hands of many parents,
they will teach the children to talk, and very often little more. I do not mean
to assert, that sentiments inculcated have no influence; far from it; they have
much; though not the most; but still, after all, it is the sentiments you let
drop occasionally, it is the conversation they overhear, when playing in the
corner of the room, which has more effect than many things which are addressed
to them directly in the tone of exhortation. Besides, as to maxims, ever
remember, that between those which you bring forward for their use, and those by
which you direct your own conduct, children have almost an intuitive
discernment—and it is by the latter they will be mainly governed, both during
childhood and their future existence.

"The question, however, returns, ’What will educate these children? And now I
answer, ’Your example will educate them—your conversation with your friends—the
business they see you transact—the likings and dislikings you express—these will
educate them; the society you live in will educate them—your families will
educate them—and whatever be your rank or situation in life, your home life,
your table, and your daily behavior, these, these will educate them. To withdraw
them from the unceasing and potent influence of these things is impossible,
except you were to withdraw yourself from them also.

Some parents talk of beginning the education of their children; the moment they
were capable of forming an idea, their education was already begun—the education
of circumstances—unconscious education, which, like insensible perspiration, is
of more constant and powerful effect, and of far more consequence to the habit,
than that which is direct and apparent. This education goes on at every instant
of time; it goes on like time—you can neither stop it nor turn its course.
Whatever your example has a tendency to make your children—that, in a great
degree, you at least should be persuaded they will be.

"The language, however, occasionally heard from some fathers, may here not
unseasonably be glanced at. They are diffuse in praise of maternal influence;
and pleased at the idea of its power and extent, they will exclaim, ’O yes,
there can be no doubt of it, that everything depends upon the mother.’ This,
however, will be found to spring from a selfish principle, and from concern to
be relieved from mighty obligations, which, after all, cannot be transferred
from the father’s shoulders, to those even of a mother—to say nothing of the
unkindness involved in laying upon her a burden, which nature never intended,
and never does. Her influence, as an instrument, indeed, a husband cannot too
highly prize; but let no father imagine, that he can neutralize the influence of
his own presence, and his own example at home. He cannot if he would, nor can he
escape from obligation. The patience and constancy of a mother, are no doubt,
first mainly tried, but then those of the father. The dispositions in each
parent are fitted by nature for this order in the trial of patience; but from
the destined and appropriate share allotted to each, neither of the two parties,
when in health, can relieve the other.

"Addressing myself, therefore, to both parents, I would say, ’Contract to its
just and proper dimensions, the amount of all that purchased education can do
for you, and expect no more from it than it is truly able to perform. It can
give instruction. There will always be an essential difference between a human
being—cultured and uncultured. In the department of purchased tuition, you will
portion out to the best advantage, many of those precious hours of youth which
never will return; and such employment will lend you powerful aid in forming
those personal habits, which lie within the province of parental education; but
rest assured, and lay it down to yourselves as a cardinal principle, that the
business of education, properly so called, is not transferable. You may engage a
master or masters, as numerous as you please, to instruct your children in many
things, useful and praiseworthy in their own place, but you must by the order of
nature, educate them yourselves. You not only ought to do it, but you will
perceive that if I am correct in what I have stated, and may still advance, you
must do it whether you intend it or not.’

’The parent,’ says Cecil,’ ’is not to stand reasoning and calculating. God has
said, that the parent’s character shall have influence; and so this appointment
of Providence becomes often the punishment of a wicked or a careless man.’ As
education, in the sense I have explained, is a thing necessary for all—for the
poor and for the rich—for the illiterate as well as the learned, Providence has
not made it dependent on systems, uncertain, tedious, and difficult of
application. Every parent, therefore, except when separated altogether from his
family, may be seen daily in the act of educating his children—for from father
and mother, and the circumstances in which they move, the children are daily
advancing in the knowledge of what is good or evil. The occupations of the poor
man at his labor, and of the man of business in his counting house, cannot
interrupt this education. In both instances the mother is plying at her
uninterrupted avocations, and her example is powerfully operating every hour;
while at certain intervals daily, as well as every morning and evening, all
things come under the potent sway of the father, whether that influence be good
or bad. Here, then, is one school from which there are no truants, and in which
there are no holidays.

"True, indeed, you send your children to another school, and this is the very
best in the whole neighborhood, and the character of the master there, is not
only unexceptionable, but praiseworthy. When your children come home too, you
put a book of your own selection into their hands or even many such books, and
they read them with pleasure and personal advantage. Still, after all this,
never for one day forget, that the first book they read, no, that which they
continue to read, and by far the most influential, is that of their parents’
example and daily deportment. If this should be disregarded by you, or even
forgotten, then be not at all surprised when you find another day, to your
sorrow and vexation, if not the loss of all your family peace and harmony, that
your children only ’know the right path,’ but still follow the wrong."

SECONDLY.—But I now go on to illustrate and enforce those duties which parents
owe to their children in reference to their religious character, and their
eternal welfare. Not that religion is to be taught separately from all other
branches of education, as an abstract thing of itself, for it is not an abstract
thing of itself, but an integral part of the character, the foundation of all
the qualities that have been already stated. "Bring them up in the fear and
nurture and admonition of the Lord"—this is all the apostle enjoined on the
subject of education, and it is the substance of all we are to teach—whatever is
opposed to this must not be taught; and all that is taught or enjoined must be
inculcated with a direct or indirect reference to this. In the selection of a
school even for obtaining the elements of general knowledge in the branches of
education that he permits his children to be taught, a Christian parent must
have his eye upon religion, and this must be the polar star by which he steers.

Still, however, for the sake of making the matter more clear and obvious, as the
subject of solemn obligation, I place religious education by itself, and it
includes—

1. INSTRUCTION. As soon as reason dawns, religious instruction should commence.
The subject matter of instruction includes everything which forms the
fundamental points of revealed truth—the character of God, the spirituality of
his law, the fall of man, the evil of sin, the person and work of Christ, the
need of repentance, justification by faith, the nature and necessity of
regeneration, the operating power of love to Christ as the spring of obedience,
the solemnities of judgment, the immortality of the soul, the punishment of the
wicked, and the happiness of the righteous—all these should be intimately taught
according as the capacity is able to receive them. Our instruction should not be
confined to mere generalities, but should proceed from the beginning, on
evangelical principles. The basis of our teaching should be the bible itself—not
that I would totally discard all catechisms. Definitions and explanations may be
as useful in religion, as in any other subject. Catechisms are injurious only
when they push out the bible—not when they lead to it. Still I admit, that the
bible should be the textbook.

Every child should learn a portion of scripture daily, and have it explained to
him. A great prominency in all our instruction should be given to the law of
God, as binding the conscience, and the consequent exceeding sinfulness of every
human being; together with the wonderful grace of the Lord Jesus Christ as the
sinner’s only Savior. Much use should be made of the historical parts of
scripture, as illustrating by its facts the character of God, the evil of sin,
the consequences of disobedience. Abstract principles alone will not do.
Children like facts, and must be taught through the medium of their imagination.

Instruction must be conveyed in a pleasing form. In order to this, there must be
no wearying them by long lectures; no disgusting them by long tasks. I denounce
the practice, as a most injurious one, of setting a long lesson of catechism or
scripture to a reluctant child, and then punishing him for not learning it. If
we wish to disgust their minds with the ways of godliness—this is the way to do
it. Many an injudicious parent, in the very act of teaching piety towards God,
calls into existence and activity the very tempers which it is the design of
religion to suppress! An angry and scolding father, with a catechism in one
hand, and a rod in the other, railing at a stubborn child for not learning his
lesson, is not a scene very calculated to invest religion with an atmosphere of
loveliness and a power of attraction for young minds—the only association which
in such a circumstance a child can be expected to form with learning to be
pious, is that of a dark room or a cane; pain of body and intolerable disgust of
mind. I would say to many a parent—"do not start teaching religion, until you
can command your temper, and attract the child to the subject as that which is
agreeable.

Never set religious tasks to your children as penalties for bad conduct. To be
made to learn catechism or scripture, in solitary confinement, and upon an empty
stomach, and thus to connect imprisonment and fasting with the penance, is a
sure way to finish the aversion which the rod has commenced. Instead of
compelling a child to learn religion because he is naughty, which is reversing
the order of things, he ought not to be permitted to touch so holy a thing in so
evil a temper.

Instruction, to be valuable, must always be delivered with great seriousness.
The light and trifling way in which it is sometimes delivered destroys all its
effect, and reduces it to the level of a mere science. It ought not to be
exclusively confined to the Sabbath, but be the business of every day; yet it
should be especially attended to on the day of rest, when the family should be
interrogated, as to what they understand and remember of the sermons they have
heard in the house of God. Children cannot too early be made to comprehend the
purpose for which they go up to public worship, and that they have a personal
interest in all the sacred services of our religious assemblies. No parent who
has a numerous family, and who resides in a large town, where much time must
necessarily be occupied in going to, and returning from his place of worship,
should attend the house of God more than twice on the Sabbath—the other part of
the day should be occupied in the midst of his family. This is far too generally
neglected in this day of overmuch preaching.

Instruction should be adapted to the capacity of the children, and keep pace in
depth and variety, with the strengthening of their faculties. Provide for them
suitable books; and as they advance in age, enter with them more into the depths
of theological truth; unfold to them the beauty, the grandeur, and sublimity of
Scripture; instruct them in its fundamental doctrines. I am not very fond of
boys and girls writing religious themes, or conducting any researches of a
religious nature, as a mere exercise of ingenuity, except their minds are
already well disposed towards religion as a matter of personal experience.

2. PERSUASION, ADMONITION, and WARNING, are a very important part of religious
education. The apostles, "knowing the terrors of the Lord," persuaded men; they
besought them to be reconciled to God; and warned them of the consequence of
unbelief. Parents must do the same with their children, and not satisfy
themselves with merely communicating bible facts. They should, in the most
earnest, anxious, affectionate manner—represent to them their spiritual
condition, warn them of the consequences of neglecting the great salvation, and
entreat them to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and fear God. They should
address them collectively and individually, on the subject of their souls’
concerns; they should manifest such a deep solicitude for their spiritual
welfare, as would constrain their children to feel that the most anxious desire
of their parents’ hearts, in reference to them, is their salvation. This should
not however be done merely when their children have offended them; nor should
they, on every slight occasion of misconduct, have a ready recourse to the
terrors of the Lord. Parental authority must not be supported exclusively by the
thunders of heaven, or the torments of hell. These subjects should never be
referred to, but in seasons of solemn and affectionate admonition.

It would also be prudent not to be so frequent in the business of admonition,
warning and persuasion, as to excite nausea and disgust. Many good, but
injudicious people, completely overdo the matter, and defeat their own purpose;
they worry the children on the subject of religion, and thus increase the
aversion that is already felt. Nothing in the way of bitter reproach, or of
railing accusation, for the lack of piety, should ever be uttered; nor should
anger ever be manifested. In the case of elder branches of the family, a word or
two occasionally spoken, and always in great mildness and tenderness—is all that
is desirable. Incessant remonstrance, is in such instances, likely to be heard
with indifference, if not with dislike. Such young people should be left pretty
much to their own judgment and conscience, and to the force of parental example.

3. Discipline is unspeakably important. We have considered the father as the
prophet of his family, we are now to view him as their king; and his laws are as
important as his instructions. By discipline, then, I mean the maintenance of
parental authority, and the exercise of it, in the way of restraining and
punishing offences. Parents, you are invested by God himself with an almost
absolute authority; you are constituted by him the supreme magistrate of your
household, and cannot have a right idea of your situation, without considering
yourself as appointed to rule. You must be the sovereign of the house, allowing
no interference from without, no resistance from within. You have no option in
the matter, and are not permitted to abdicate the throne, or to cast away your
scepter. It was mentioned as a high commendation of Abraham that he would
command his children after him. But although you are to be absolute monarch,
uniting in yourself the legislative and executive department—you are to be no
tyrant. Your government must be firm, but mild—the love of the parent must not
relax the reins of the governor, nor the authority of the governor diminish
anything from the love of the parent. You must have a scepter, and always hold
it, but it should not be an iron one. You must never allow the yoke to be thrown
off from your children, but then it should be a yoke which they shall have no
inclination to throw off, because it is easy, and the burden light. Your
authority must be presented to your children as soon as reason is awake. The
first thing a child should be made to understand, is that he is to do, not what
he likes, but what he is commanded; that he is not to govern, but to be
governed. The scepter should be seen by him before the rod; and an early,
judicious and steady exhibition of the scepter, would render the rod almost
unnecessary. He must be made to submit, and that while young, and then
submission will become a habit; if the reins be felt by him early, he will thus
learn to obey them.

All commands should be reasonable—there should be no wild, capricious use of
authority, we must not thwart and cross the wills of our children merely to
teach submission. They should perceive clearly that love is at the bottom of all
we do, and that reason guides all our conduct. We should calculate beforehand,
whether there is a necessity for the injunction we are about to deliver, and a
probability of our being able to ensure compliance; for a wise parent will not
enjoin anything, if he can help it, that has not these circumstances connected
with it. Commands should be sacred things, not issued in sport for the child to
play with. Nothing but what is wise should be commanded, and every injunction
that is issued should be obeyed. In many cases, it is beyond our power to ensure
obedience; and then nothing remains but punishment.

CORRECTION is an essential part of discipline; for rewards and punishments are
as necessary in the government of a family, as in that of a state. What says the
wisest of men? "Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of
correction will drive it far from him. Withhold not correction from the
child—for if you beat him with a rod, he shall not die. You shall beat him with
a rod, and shall deliver his soul from hell. The rod and the reproof give
wisdom—but a child left to himself brings his mother to shame." Do not many
mothers know this by bitter experience? Even in lesser matters, have they not a
thousand times blushed at the rudeness, ill manners, and insolence of children
’left to themselves’? And in greater matters, have they not lived to vent the
heaviest reproaches upon their most abject folly—in spoiling their children, by
leaving them to their own obstinate tempers, self-will, and rebellious conduct,
without ever correcting them?

"Correct your son, and he shall give you rest; yes, he shall give you the
delight of your soul." Inimitably beautiful precept—and as true as it is
beautiful. "He who spares the rod, hates his child." How many are there who thus
hate their children? A very strong expression, I admit; and yet these very
people would be thought the fondest of parents. Would you allow your children’s
bodies to perish, rather than put them in pain to eradicate a disease, which if
allowed to remain, would be fatal? Would not this be hating them? And what do
you call that conduct, which, rather than put them to pain by correcting their
faults, allows all kinds of moral diseases to increase, and fester, and corrupt
the soul? Fond mother, you who will never correct a child, hear the charge, and
let it shudder through your heart, exciting emotions of horror—you are a hater
of your child; your foolish love is infanticide; your cruel embraces are hugging
your child to death! In not correcting him, you are committing sin of the
heaviest kind, and your own wickedness, in not correcting him, will at last
correct yourself.

I would not, however, be thought to enjoin a cruel or even a stern and rigid
severity. I do not think this compatible with the admonition given by the
Apostle, not to irritate, nor "provoke our children to wrath, lest they be
discouraged." We must not govern by punishment—the scepter must not be converted
into a whip! The first object of every parent should be to render punishment
unnecessary. It is better to prevent crimes than punish them. This can be done,
certainly, to a very considerable extent, but it requires a very early, very
judicious, and very watchful system of training. Many have very little of what
may be called, the faculty of government—and later, coercion and punishment come
in to supply the place of early guidance. The only time is allowed to go by
without being improved, in which it is possible in most cases, so to train the
disposition, as to do in future without much punishment—for if discipline—wise,
steady, firm discipline—does not commence as soon as the passions begin to
develop—it is too late then to be accomplished without some degree of severity.

Mr. Anderson strikingly illustrates this part of the subject, by a very familiar
allusion—"I recollect hearing of two coaches which used to drive into Newmarket
from London, by a certain hour, at a time of strong competition. The horses of
the coach which generally came in first, had scarcely a wet hair. In the other,
though last, the horses were jaded and heated to excess, and had the appearance
of having made great efforts. The reader, perhaps, understands the cause of the
difference. The first man did it all, of course, by the reins; the second,
unsteady in himself, or unskillful in the reins, had induced bad habits, and
then employed the whip; but he could never cope with the other. So it will ever
hold in all government. If obedience to the reins is found to be most pleasant
in itself, and even the road to enjoyment, then obedience will grow into a
habit, and become, in fact, the choice of the party."

This, then, is the first thing to be attended to—acquire skill in the management
of the reins; govern by guiding, not by forcing. But still, there are many, very
many cases, in which the reins alone will not prove to be enough; the whip is
needed—and where it is needed, it ought to be supplied. Not that I mean to
enforce a system of corporeal punishment; no—this may be necessary occasionally,
as an experiment in difficult cases; but as a system it is bad and unavailing,
and is usually the resource of passionate, ignorant, or indolent parents. We
should, from the dawn of reason, endeavor to make our children feel that our
favor is their richest reward for good conduct, our displeasure the severest
rebuke for misbehaviour. Happy the parent, who has attained to such skill in the
government of his children, as to guide with a look, to reward with a smile, and
to punish with a frown.

Occasions, I admit, sometimes do occur, and perhaps frequently, in which the
interposition of a severer chastisement becomes necessary; and these are the
emergencies which require the full stretch of parental wisdom. Take the
following rules for your guidance—

Never chastise in a state of anger. Some parents can never punish except, when
it ought never to be done, when they are angry. This is passion, not principle;
and will always appear to the child as if it were intended, more to appease and
gratify the parent’s bad temper, that to promote his welfare. No parent, in such
a state of mind, can be in a correct condition to adjust the kind and degree of
punishment to the offence; it is like administering medicine scalding hot, which
rather burns than cures. God waited until the cool of the evening before he came
down to arraign, try, and punish our first parents after their fall.

Patiently examine the offence before you punish it. In every case, let there be
the solemnity of judicial investigation; for justice always should proceed with
a slow and measured step. Accurately discriminate between sins of
presumption—and sins of ignorance—or inadvertence. Accidents should be reproved,
but not punished, unless they involve willful disobedience. Most wisely and
equitably apportion the sentence to the degree of offence and the disposition of
the offender. Genuine confession, and sincere penitence, should in most cases
arrest the process of judgment, and the child be made to punish himself by
remorse. Satisfy not yourselves until you have produced repentance, for until
you have done this, scarcely anything is done. Hatred of the sin, on the part of
the offender, is a much more effectual preservative from its repetition, than
fear of punishment. Do not keep instruments of punishment, such as the rod or
the cane, constantly in sight, for this is to govern by fear, rather than by
love. Be very cautious not to threaten what you either did not intend, or are
not able to inflict; yes, forbear threatening as much as possible. A parent’s
denouncement should not be hastily uttered for children to laugh at. In the case
of older children, the greatest caution is necessary, in expressing a parent’s
displeasure; reasonable admonition, mild rebuke, tender reproof, appeals to
their understanding, and feelings, and conscience—are all that can be allowed in
this instance. If the rod ever does good, it is only in infancy, before the
understanding can be made sufficiently to argue upon the heinousness of the
offence; afterwards it can only provoke and harden.

Through the whole course of discipline and government, let parents ever
remember, that their children are rational creatures, and are to be dealt with
as such, by having the grounds of obligation laid open to them, the criminality
of disobedience explained, and the evils of insubordination laid before them. To
a parent storming or fretting over the inefficacy of punishment, I would say,
"Have you treated that child as a brute—or a rational creature? Have you taken
pains with him from infancy, to make him understand his obligations, and to
comprehend the criminality of disobedience; or have you governed him by
threatening and beating?" I again say, that where necessary punishment is
withheld, it is a hating of the child, but the great object should be to render
punishment unnecessary. Put the reins of guidance upon the disposition while
your children are infants, and acquire great skill in these—and if you manage
the reins well, you will have less need of the whip!

It is of vast consequence that parents should be very careful not to foster, by
injudicious treatment, those very propensities, which when more fully developed,
they will find it necessary to repress by discipline. Do not encourage lying and
ill nature, by smiling at a false, or malignant expression, because it is
cleverly said—nor nourish pride by excessive flattery or commendation—nor
vanity, by loading them with fine clothes, and both admiring them, and teaching
them to admire themselves—nor revenge, by directing them to vent their anger
upon the people or things that have injured them—nor cruelty, by permitting them
to torture insects or animals—nor insolence and oppression, by allowing them to
be crude to others—nor envy, by stimulating too powerfully the principle of
competition. Infinite mischief is done by thus thoughtlessly encouraging the
growth of many of the ’seeds of vice’.

Discipline to be effectual, should be steady and unvarying—not fitful and
capricious. It must be a system, which, like the atmosphere, shall press always
and everywhere upon its subjects. Occasional fits of severity, however violent,
but which are followed by long intermissions of relaxing indulgence, can do no
good—and may do much harm. Each extreme is mischievous, and each prepares for
the damage of the other.

Both parents should join to support family authority; for a more truly
distressing and injurious spectacle can scarcely be seen in the family circle,
than a fond and foolish mother counteracting the effects of paternal
chastisement, by stealing in to the little prisoner in his captivity, to comfort
him in his distress, to wipe away his tears, and to hush his sorrows, by some
gratification of his palate. In this way children have been sometimes hardened
in their crimes, set against their father, and led to ultimate and irretrievable
ruin.

Wonder not that I have placed discipline under the head of religious
education—for is it not the object of family government to bend, as far as means
can do it, the will of a child into submission to the authority of a wise and
holy parent? And what is sin against God, but the resistance of a weaker will
against that which is supreme and divine? Now surely it may be conceived to be
in the order of God’s appointed means of bringing the child into submission to
himself, to bring him first into submission to his parents. Can anyone be in a
state of mind more hardened against religion, more opposed to all its just and
salutary restraints, than he who rejects the mild yoke of parental government,
and sets at defiance the authority of a father? Obedience to parents is one of
the laws of heaven—and the first of all its laws which the mind of an infant can
be made to understand. And if parents enforce it as they should do, with a
direct reference to the appointment of God, they are certainly taking a
preliminary step, so far as means can be employed, for the formation of the
religious character.


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  CHAPTER 8: 01.06.     THE DUTIES OF PARENTS CONTD
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4. EXAMPLE is necessary to give power and influence to all other means.

One of the tritest of all proverbs, is the power of example; but its force is
greatest upon the youthful mind—"During the minority of reason, imitation is the
regent of the soul, and they who are least swayed by argument, are most governed
by example." We all learn of this preceptor, before we can reason, and before we
can speak. If then we would have our children live in the fear of God, we must
ourselves be seen by them steadily walking in the way of his commandments. In
alluring them to religion, we must be enabled to say, "Follow me." Our religion
should not only be upon the whole sincere, but it should be visible—our light
should shine before our family, that they seeing our good works, may glorify
God. But for our religion to produce any effect, it must be eminent—there must
be no doubt, no uncertainty about the matter; it must not be a thing of a
questionable nature. Our religion should be consistent. I remember once
conversing with a man of great eminence for station, talents, and piety, who
said to me, "I owe everything, under God, to the eminent and consistent piety of
my father. When I was a young man, though I was not vicious, I was worldly; and
in order the more effectually to get rid of all interference with my pursuits
from religion, I wished to think it all mere profession and hypocrisy. For this
purpose I narrowly watched the conduct of my father; for such was the height on
which he stood as a professor of religion, that I very naturally concluded, if I
could convict him of such inconsistency as amounted to a proof of hypocrisy, and
a little thing would at that time have sufficed for such a purpose, I would have
gained my end, and have concluded that all piety was but a name and a delusion.
But so thoroughly consistent was he, that I could find nothing in the smallest
degree at variance with his character as a professor of religion. This kept its
hold upon me. I said to myself there must be a reality here, and I must try to
understand and feel it; for I have seen such meekness in a temper naturally
irritable, such comfort amid the greatest agonies, and all this supported by
such uniform devotion, that I must try to catch his spirit." This beautiful
instance of the influence of parental example is, perhaps, not altogether
unique—though in all its circumstances, perhaps rarely equaled.

Children have their eyes always upon their parents, and are quick to discern any
violations of consistency. If notwithstanding our profession of religion, they
see us as worldly-minded, as grasping and anxious after riches, as solicitous to
be surrounded by splendid furniture, luxurious gratifications, and fashionable
habits, as the people of the world—if they see the righteous rarely at our
table, except when they are great people, or popular characters, but on the
contrary observe there the gay, the fashionable, the ungodly—if they see us
deceitful, implacable, or malicious—if they know us to be cruel or neglectful to
our wives, unkind and oppressive to our servants, cold and tyrannical to them—if
they witness us inconstant in our attendance upon private, family, or public
worship—what can they conclude but that our religion is mere sham? In such a
case, of how little service is our attempt to impress upon their minds those
claims which we ourselves practically deny? It were far better for some parents
to say nothing to their children about religion, for until they alter their own
conduct, their admonitions can produce no other effect than to excite
intolerable disgust. It is enough to make every parent tremble, to think what a
parent should be! And there should be consistency also, between our professions
and our conduct, in reference to our families. We avow it to be our supreme and
ultimate desire, that they should be truly pious; and we tell them so. Do we in
all things act agreeably to this principle? Do we select schools and situations,
books and companions, pursuits and occupations, in reference to this desire? Do
we in our general conversation with them, and before them, support this
declaration? Do not our children sometimes reason thus?—"My parents tell me that
their chief concern is for my salvation, and the formation of my religious
character; but how does this match with their selecting for me a school where
religion is the last thing attended to? With their instructing me in some
things, which, as religious people, I hear them condemn? How is it that all the
concern of their conduct, whatever their words may say, appears to be to make me
a fine lady, who can dance well, and exhibit an elegant form, and display
polished manners? I am told that religion is the first thing, but I am educated
for the world!" Ah, if we act thus, we are not training up our children in the
way they should go. Without a godly example, everything else that we do, is most
lamentably deficient. As has been often said, it is only pointing them the way
to heaven, but leading them in the way to hell.

5. DILIGENT, CONSTANT, AND CAREFUL INSPECTION, is a most important parental
duty.

There should be in every family, a system of family oversight. Parents should be
watchful in all things. This is the way to preserve the good seed of instruction
which is sown, and to prevent the enemy from sowing tares, which he is ever
wakeful to do when the parent is asleep. This is a very difficult, but a very
necessary duty. We must never allow any engagements whatever, to take off our
eye from our children. As soon as their character begins to unfold, we should
most carefully watch its development, that we may know what regimen to place it
under. We should study their propensities, capacities, and tendencies. We should
watch them in play, in their interaction with siblings, with adults, with their
companions—and when they are not thinking that our attention is directed towards
them; for character is decided by incidents, which a superficial mind would deem
too minute to be noticed. We should see how they behave after punishment and
reward—in short, their whole character should be studied and inspected by us,
with the most minute and anxious care; just as the different plants in a nursery
are investigated by a gardener, that he may know the peculiar nature which each
possesses, and the appropriate treatment which each requires.

We should also inspect our family, so as to know what good or evil is going on
among them—whether the good seed is growing, and what tares are springing up.
Like the farmer going out to examine his fields, or the gardener his trees, to
ascertain what prospect there is of a crop, and what weeds are to be eradicated,
what pests to be destroyed, what gaps to be stopped to keep out destroyers, what
blemishes to be removed, what assistance to be afforded—so must the parent be
and act among his children.

One is growing up with a propensity to pride, he must be taught with great care,
the beauty and excellence of humility; a second is vain of personal abilities
and acquirements, she must have such folly exposed, and be saved from its
injurious influence upon her character; a third is scheming, equivocating and
deceitful—he must have the enormity of lying unfolded to him, and be encouraged
to practice more frankness, sincerity, and regard to truth; one is remarkably
curious, and needs to have this inquisitiveness checked; another dull, and needs
to have it stimulated; one is skeptical, and is in danger of infidelity; another
naive and is in peril of deception. Now there must be a constant scrutiny
carried on by the parent, to ascertain these peculiarities, and to manage them
accordingly.

Scrutiny must extend to everything and everyone. To the servants that are
admitted into the house; for how much injury might be done to the youthful mind
by an unprincipled and artful servant. The companions of our children should be
most narrowly watched—one bad associate may ruin them forever. The very first
workings of the social impulse, even in a boy or girl of five or six years of
age, should be noticed, for even thus early may evil impressions be produced by
companionship. At the risk of offending the nearest relative, or most endeared
friend he has upon earth, a Christian parent ought not to allow his children to
associate with those who are likely to do them harm. On this account, home
education is decidedly to be preferred, where it can be obtained, to schools. A
system of extensive and dreadful mutual corruption is oftentimes going on among
young people before it is perceived.

Parents should most carefully inspect the reading of their children, and keep
out of their way all corrupting books and indecent pictures. And how deeply is
it to be deplored, that our newspapers are oftentimes so polluted with filthy
details of disgusting occurrences and trials, as to be channels through which
moral contamination flows into many a family, otherwise well guarded. It becomes
a serious question, whether it is the duty of a Christian, who has sons and
daughters growing up, to allow a newspaper to come into his house! The
recreations of children should be watched, and no games be allowed that are
immodest, nor such as are likely to foster a spirit of gambling. For lack of
this diligent, careful, and universal inspection, the best instructions, the
most earnest warnings, the most fervent prayers, and the most consistent
example, have been in some cases, unavailing and the children left to
themselves, and the corrupting influence of others, have grown up their parents’
misery—and their own disgrace!

6. PRAYER must crown all. This duty commences with the birth of a child, no,
before that event; for in the very prospect of its birth, there should be
earnest prayer offered to God by the parent, for divine grace to discharge all
those obligations, which the expected babe will bring upon the conscience of the
father and mother. And from that time forward, until the death of either parent
or child—earnest, secret, believing prayer, should never cease to be daily
presented for our offspring. Our prayers should principally respect the
spiritual welfare of our children. Daily we should wrestle with God for their
eternal salvation. How little can we do at most for their welfare, and how
ineffectual without God’s blessing, is all we do, or can do. That parent has
neglected a very important branch of his duty, who has allowed one single day to
pass by without bearing his children upon his heart before God in private
prayer. Who can subdue their tempers or change their hearts, but God? And though
in a way of sovereignty, he confers his grace upon some who neither seek it
themselves, nor have it sought for them by their friends, yet we are not
authorized to expect it without prayer.

It is necessary, also, not only to pray for our children but with them. We
should take them apart, each by himself, to commend them to God, and thus make
them the witnesses of our deep concern, and our intense agony for their eternal
welfare. If they have been disobedient and wicked, it may be well, when they are
brought to a right mind, and when we ourselves have forgiven them, to conduct
them to the throne of divine grace, to beg for them the divine forgiveness—but
this never must be done as a punishment, for this is the way to make them dread
a parent’s prayers, as a visitation of his displeasure. But besides this, there
must be FAMILY PRAYER. The necessity and propriety of this, arise out of the
constitution of the family; and were it not enjoined in the word of God, either
by precept or example, would still be binding upon the conscience of every
parent, by the relation in which he stands to his family, and the extent of
their dependence upon God. Do we not need family mercies—and who can give them
but God? So obviously obligatory is this duty, and so naturally does its
performance arise out of all our joint feelings as parents and as Christians,
that those who neglect it, cannot even pretend to feel the right influence of
godliness. No duty, however, has been more abused than this. By some it is only
occasionally performed; it is taken up, perhaps, in times of family distress or
solicitude by others, it is attended to on a sabbath evening; and by many, very
many others it is, though regularly observed, nothing but a lifeless form, and
thus felt not only to be insipid, but a mere burden. The following directions
may be of service to guide the heads of families in this most interesting branch
of family duty.

1. It should be offered up morning and evening, thus beginning and closing every
day.

2. It should be observed with the greatest regularity, and an uninterrupted
constancy. What a disgrace to a parent is it for a child or a servant to say,
"Are we to have prayer this evening?" And yet, are there not some families in
which the practice is so irregular, as to leave the matter doubtful?

3. All the members of the family should be present, except very young children,
who cannot be made to sit still, and whose inquietude and restlessness are a
disturbance to all the rest, and utterly destroy the solemnity of the service.

4. It should be attended to so early in the morning as not to subject the
service to the intrusion and interruption of visitors, and secular business; and
so early in the evening, as not to be rendered the mere form of a drowsy circle,
who ought at that time to be in bed. It is an offense to the Almighty to conduct
a family into his awsome presence, merely to sleep there.

5. There should be a fixed hour, and the hour should be most sacredly kept, and
not to be interfered with, except at the dictate of necessity. In order to this,
the heads of families should not eat away from home, nor yield to the modern
practice of late visiting. The fashionable hours of ten or eleven o’clock at
night, are driving out evening prayer—and the eagerness of commercial pursuits
putting a stop, in many families, to the morning sacrifice.

6. A portion of holy scripture should be read from the Old Testament one part of
the day, and from the New Testament, the other. A book should be read through in
regular course, and not a chapter picked out, or stumbled upon by accident. The
scriptures should be audibly read, and in a reverential manner, and with a
devotional spirit, for very great evils result from reading the scriptures in a
careless, slovenly, and irreverent manner. It would be well for the parent to
require the children to bring their bibles with them, that the eye may help the
ear, in fixing the attention of the mind. The family prophet should also
accompany what he reads with short explanatory and hortatory remarks of his own,
or the expository comments of others.

7. Where there are people in the family who can sing, family praise should be a
part of the service. The morning or evening hymn of a pious family is one of the
most touching sounds in our world.

"Lord! how delightful ’tis to see A pious household worship Thee. At once they
sing—at once they pray; They hear of heaven, and learn the way."

8. Then follows the prayer, which should be not so long as to weary, nor so
short as to seem like a mere form—it should be fervent; for a dull, cold,
heartless repetition of almost the same thing, in almost the same words, is sure
to destroy all the interest of this delightful service, and render it a mere
form, which wearies and burdens, if it do not also disgust. How difficult is it
to keep up the life and vigor of this arrangement! And why? Because we do not
keep up the life and vigor of our own personal religion. It is worthwhile to
remark, that the habit of reverential reading the scriptures tends to feed the
flame of devotion, and to kindle the fire of the sacrifice of prayer. The prayer
of the head of a family should be in a very peculiar degree FAMILY prayer. It
should respect the children, and the circumstances of the household. All should
feel that the service belongs to them, and not merely to the individual who
prays, or to the church and the world. But fervor, and life, and earnestness, as
opposed to what is dull and formal—are of immense consequence. A few petitions
breathed forth with a fervor that kindles the fire of devotion in all around,
are far better than half an hour’s talking about religion to God.

Oh! with what dignity, and grace, and sanctity, and authority, does a holy and
fervent father rise from his knees, and take his seat in the midst of his
family, while yet the rays of divine glory play upon his countenance.
"Children," says Dr. Dwight, "naturally regard a parent with respect; but they
cannot fail to respect him more or less, on account of his personal character.
Wherever they have been accustomed to behold their parent daily sustaining the
office of minister or servant of God, they necessarily associate with every idea
they form of his person and character, this solemn and important apprehension.
Every image of this venerable relation presented to their minds, will include in
it that of a divinely appointed guardian of their spiritual concerns; a guide to
their duty given them from above; a venerated and beloved intercessor for their
salvation." And the same writer in speaking of family worship, says, "In the
devotion of this little assembly, parents pray for their children, and children
for their parents; the husband for the wife, and the wife for the husband; while
brothers and sisters send up their requests to the throne of Infinite Mercy, to
call down blessings on each other. Who that wears the name of man can be
indifferent here? Must not the venerable character of the parents, the peculiar
tenderness of the marital union, the affectionate intimacy of the filial and
fraternal relations; must not the nearness of relations long existing, the
interchange of kindness long continued, and the oneness of interests long
cemented—all warm the heart, heighten the importance of every petition, and
increase the fervor of every devotional effort."

It may be now proper to enquire, how it comes to pass that such a system as this
is so often unsuccessful? For it may, with very great propriety, because with
truth, be affirmed, that the families of professors are not always, as it might
be expected they would be—the nurseries of the church. It is not enough to
resolve the matter into the sovereignty of divine grace, until we have first
enquired whether anything can be found in the conduct of parents, which can be
said with truth, to account for the painful fact of irreligious children being
found in religious families. Have parents really adopted and pursued a judicious
system of religious education? Can it be said, that means, such as I have
directed, or anything at all like them, have been regularly pursued? Has there
been a deep, a constant solicitude for the eternal welfare of their children? In
the introduction of my volume, entitled, "A Christian Father’s Present to his
Children," I have stated the OBSTACLES which often prevent the success of a
religious education, and have enumerated the following—

1. Religious education is oftentimes very ignorantly, negligently, and
capriciously maintained—where it is not altogether omitted. It is not a first
object; it is attended to with no earnestness, no concern, no system, no
regularity. It does not run through everything, and is opposed by many things at
variance with it. The parent’s eye and heart are more intently fixed upon the
worldly prosperity and respectability of the children—than on their religious
character.

2. The relaxation of family ’discipline’ is a powerful impediment in the way of
success. There is, in some households, no family government, no order, no
subordination. The children are kept under no restraint, but are allowed to do
what they like; their faults are intentionally unnoticed and unpunished, and
their tempers allowed to grow wild and headstrong; until, in fact, the whole
family becomes utterly lawless, rebellious against parental authority—and
grievous to all around them. How many have had to curse the over-indulgence of
fond and foolish parents! How many, as they have ruminated amid the desolations
of poverty, or the walls of a prison, have exclaimed, "O, my cruelly fond
parents, had you exercised that authority with which God entrusted you, over
your children, and had you checked my childish corruptions, and punished my
boyish disobedience; had you subjected me to the beneficial restraint of
wholesome discipline, I would not have brought you with a broken heart to your
grave, nor myself with a ruined character to the jail."

Overindulgence of children is awfully common, and continually making shocking
ravages in human character. It is a system of great cruelty to the children, to
the parents themselves, and to society. This practice proceeds from various
causes; in some instances, from a perverted and intentional sentimentalism; in
others, from absolute indolence, and a regard to present ease, which leads the
silly mother to adopt any means of coaxing, and yielding, and bribing, to keep
the "young rebels" quiet for the time! In others, from a mistake as to the time
when restraint should begin, or a spirit of procrastination, which leads parents
to say, "I shall take them in hand by and bye—there is no time lost; when their
reason is a little more matured, I shall lay upon them more restraint." And in
some it is "mere animal affection," without the guidance of a particle of
judgment; a mere instinct, like that which in the irrational tribes leads to a
blind and busy care.

It is not uncommon for parents to treat the first acts of infantile rebellion,
rather as accidents to be smiled at, than as sins to be disciplined. "O," says
the mother, "it is only play, he will know better soon. He does not mean any
harm. I cannot discipline him." No! and if the father, wiser than herself; does,
she cries, and perhaps, in the hearing of the child, reproves her husband for
cruelty.

Lack of parental discipline, from whatever cause it proceeds, it is in the
highest degree injurious to the character of the children; let those who are
guilty of it read the fearful comment on this sin, which is furnished for their
warning in the history of Eli and his family. "I am going to carry out all my
threats against Eli and his family. I have warned him continually that judgment
is coming for his family, because his sons are blaspheming God and he hasn’t
disciplined them." 1 Samuel 3:12-13

3. Undue severity is, perhaps, more injurious than over-indulgence; and it is,
perhaps, a conviction of this, and an observance of the mischievous consequences
of extreme rigor, that has driven many into the opposite extreme. I have seen
the dreadful effects of parental tyranny and the reign of household terror—in
the broken spirits, the reckless desperation, the stubborn resistance to
authority, or the deep and sullen melancholy of those who have been the subjects
of these harsh measures. It is a truly revolting sight to see a father employing
the iron rod of the oppressor to beat and bruise, and crush the minds of his own
offspring into the most abject submission. He may succeed, but let him not
wonder, if at the same time that he has suppressed rebellion, he has
extinguished affection.

I have known parents, who, too late have seen their error, and who would give
the world, did they possess it, if it were possible to do away the ill effects
which their severity had produced in the character of their children; but the
mischief was irreparable. No subsequent kindness could expand the heart, which
they had closed forever against them, or will that confidence which they had
repulsed from them. A close, sullen, melancholy disposition had been nurtured;
susceptibility to the emotions of wretchedness had been planted in the bosom,
which no future tenderness on the part of the parent could remove. He saw it,
and repented it, but could not alter it. "You fathers, provoke not then your
children to anger, lest they should be discouraged." This language is really
very striking, and well deserves the serious attention of every parent.

4. The inconsistent conduct of parents who are professors of religion, is a
great hindrance to the success of religious education. Many people have no need
to wonder that their children are not pious; it would have been a wonder if they
were godly—for they have seen nothing at home but what was calculated to disgust
them with religion. They would have been far more likely to have thought well of
the ways of godliness—if their parents had said nothing about them.

5. The bad conduct of an elder child of a family often counteracts all the
efforts made for the benefit of the rest. Let parents see the importance of
beginning upon a good system. Children are creatures of imitation, and the
models they copy after, are their elder brother or sister. A mother should
educate the character of her first child, with the recollection, that he will be
a pattern, which the rest will, in all probability, more or less conform to. I
do not think this has been sufficiently considered.

6. Partiality has a very corrupting and fatal influence. The history of the
patriarch Jacob, first the victim, and afterwards the subject, of this sin, will
remain forever a warning to all parents, against the dangers of family
favoritism. The balances of government must be held, in every family, by
even-handed justice, or misery is sure to ensue. Envy and jealousy are the
natural consequences of partiality. Father and mother are sometimes embroiled,
the children are set against each other, and all conspire against the favorite.

Behold these obstacles, and avoid them! And now, can MOTIVES be necessary to
admonish Christian parents to the diligent performance of their duty? If so,
take the following—

1. Are you zealous for the cause of Christ in the world—for the prosperity of
Zion—for the interest of the Redeemer—for the glory of God? Be diligent, and
anxious to train up your children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.
Would you have them the enemies, or the friends of God and his cause? Dare you
pretend to be the disciples of Christ, if this is a matter of indifference to
you? If you are neglectful in this matter, you may expect to see your offspring
united in marriage with the children of this world—if not with infidels,
scoffers, or the profane. But if you are anxious and conscientious to train them
up for God, that daughter over whom you watch with such parental care and
tenderness, may be joined with the female worthies, who by their chaste lives,
and the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, and their zeal for the cause of
Christ, have done so much to diffuse religion in the world. That son whom you
now train with such holy solicitude, for future usefulness, as a disciple of the
Savior, may become eminent in the church, as a consistent and intelligent
member, or an able and faithful minister. "Many a congregation," says Baxter,
"that is happily fed with the bread of life, may thank God for the endeavors of
some poor man or woman, who trained up a child in the ways of God, to become
their holy and faithful teacher." The church of God looks to the families of the
righteous, and expects and asks from thence, those supplies which are to recruit
its numbers, and to repair the ravages of death.

2. I urge this duty by a due regard to the temporal and eternal welfare of your
children. You love your children, and would deem it a most cruel and insulting
insinuation to have your affection for a moment questioned. But do what you will
for them; devote as you may the energies of body and mind; the sleep of your
nights and the activities of your days to your children’s comfort—wear out your
strength in ceaseless labor and solicitude, and yet at the same time neglect the
religious education of your children, you are guilty of a species of most horrid
cruelty towards them—the dreadful consequences of which may begin in this world
in profligacy and vice—and extend to the eternal world in all the bitter pains
of eternal death! Unrestrained by sentiments of piety, uncontrolled by a
conscience which has never been enlightened, what is to prevent them from being
plunged into infamy by their unbridled passions? Have not many young men, in the
prisons, or at the gallows—and many unhappy women when closing in misery a
course of infamy—cursed their parents for not giving them a religious education?
But even though they live and die in worldly honor and respectability, what will
this do for them amid—the sorrows of life, the agonies of death, the solemnities
of judgment, and the torments of perdition. Hear them as they stand shuddering
and affrighted on the brink of that gulf into which they are about to plunge.
"Of what avail are the riches and honors, and pleasures of the world, which my
parents were so anxious to obtain for me? Why did they not tell me that the
salvation of my soul was of more importance to me as an immortal creature, than
the possession of the universe? Cruel, cruel parents! Fool that I was to be
blinded and rendered careless by you—but my self-reproaches are now unavailing,
I deservedly perish; but my blood be upon the head of those who neglected me."
Ah, cruel parents indeed, who neglect the religious education of their
children—more cruel in some respects than Herod! He slew the bodies of
children—these cruel parents murder souls! He murdered the children of
others—these cruel parents murder their own children! He employed the agency of
his servants—these cruel parents do the work of slaughter themselves!

3. Do you regard your OWN comfort? Do you love yourselves? Are you anxious to
avoid painful and incessant solicitude, bitter reflection, family disquietude,
dreadful foreboding? Then bring up your children with the most unvarying regard
to their religious character. Should God crown your efforts with success, what a
harvest of joys will you reap even in this world. When you see your children
enter the paths of wisdom, "thank God!" you will exclaim, "my highest ambition
has at length reached its object. My children are decided Christians. I am now
no longer distressingly anxious for their future prospects in this life. In one
way or other, God will provide for them. And as to eternity they are safe. Who
can describe the pure, elevated felicity with which such parents mark the course
of their children, in going from strength to strength in their progress to Zion.
What a season of delight is that, when they publicly assume the profession of a
Christian, and connect themselves with the church! What joy is felt on beholding
them at their side at the table of the Lord, and holding communion with them in
the joys of faith and the anticipations of eternity. And what satisfaction is
experienced in seeing them enrolling their names as the friends of God and man,
and giving their support to those institutions which are formed to promote the
highest interests of the human race. As they grow in experience, in usefulness,
in respectability in the church, the parents’ joy and gratitude are continually
increasing, and they feel the honor of having sent such members into the
fellowship of the faithful. Should God, in the mysteries of his providence,
remove them by an early death, you will be cheered amid the agonies of
separation, by their dying consolation; their piety will wipe away your tears,
and be a balm to the wounds of your mind. And when they have departed, you will
solace yourselves with the healing thought, that they are gone to that world of
glory in which you will soon be reunited with them. Or should the order of
nature be observed, and you precede them to the tomb, will not their presence
and attentions in your dying chamber, be more soothing by the consideration,
that they are so many saints, as well as children, ministering to your comfort?
Will not their piety give a sanctity and a sweetness to all the offices of their
affection? "I die," will be your expression, as like departing Jacob, you
address yourselves to them, "but God will be with you, and we shall meet again
where there will be no more death." But should you unhappily neglect their
religious education, and they, through your inattention, should grow up without
any due sense of the claims of God, is there not a danger of their becoming
immoral, as well as irreligious? And how could you bear to witness, or to hear
of their profligacy and vice, if at the same time you were conscious that it was
in a measure through your neglect? Perhaps they may be unkind and disobedient to
you; for God may justly render that child a scourge to his parent, whose parent
did not train him up in the ways of religion. O what scenes of family misery,
what heart-rending spectacles of confusion and wretchedness, have profligate
children occasioned in the families to which they belong! How many have thus had
their hearts suddenly broken, or their gray hairs brought down by the slow
process of withering sorrow to the grave; and the sting of all this, in some
cases, has been the consciousness of parental neglect. No sin more heavily
punishes itself, than this, nor mingles for its subject a more bitter cup. But
then, the eternal consequences, oh! the eternal consequences of this neglect.
See the heart-stricken parent, wringing his hands over the dying youth who is
departing without repentance. No, not a syllable escapes his lips that sounds
like penitence—the father weeps, and prays, and entreats, but the son hearkens
not, and dies, and makes no sign. Now in what a burst of agony does he give vent
to his feelings over the corpse, from which the spirit has departed, but
departed not to the mansions of the blessed—"Oh, my son, Absalom, my son, my son
Absalom, would God I had died for you! O Absalom, my son, my son!"

Or, in the event of your own death, what thorns will it plant in your pillow,
with what deeper shades will it invest the descent to the dark valley, to
reflect that you had neglected the religious character of your children, and the
eternal salvation of their immortal souls. Then, amid these fearful scenes, to
awake to a sense of your duty, when it is too late, except by one parting
admonition to perform it. Then to see those around your bed, with whom you had
been entrusted, but whom you have neglected. But there are other scenes more
dreadful still. The faithless parent must meet his ruined children at the day of
judgment—before the bar of God. Fearful will be the interview; and to us, now,
utterly inconceivable. No imagination can portray the scene, and I attempt it
not. And then, eternity, oh! eternity!—who shall bring out from the secrets of
that impenetrable state, the condition of children, lost in some measure through
the neglect of their parents; and the condition of parents, hearing through
everlasting ages the cursings and reproaches of their own offspring, and all
these cursings and reproaches echoed back from their own conscience! But the
picture is too appalling—and if the mere anticipation chills with horror, what
must be its dreadful reality!

Look for a few moments at a brighter scene, and anticipate the meeting, at the
judgment day, of pious parents and children, reclaimed, converted, saved by the
blessing of God upon their affectionate solicitude, and judicious and
persevering efforts for their eternal welfare—but this is as much too bright for
the imagination, as the other is too dreadful. It is glory, honor, and felicity
too great to be imagined. And beyond all this, everlasting ages remain for the
child to be blessed with salvation, and the parent to be blessed with the
consciousness of having been the happy instrument of eternal blessedness to his
offspring!


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  CHAPTER 9: 01.07.     THE DUTIES OF CHILDREN TO THEIR PARENTS
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The duties of CHILDREN to their parents

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. "Honor your father
and mother"—which is the first commandment with a promise—"that it may go well
with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth. Ephesians 6:1-3

"My son, obey your father’s commands, and don’t neglect your mother’s teaching.
Keep their words always in your heart. Tie them around your neck. Wherever you
walk, their counsel can lead you. When you sleep, they will protect you. When
you wake up in the morning, they will advise you." Proverbs 6:20-22

"The father of a righteous man has great joy; he who has a wise son delights in
him. May your father and mother be glad; may she who gave you birth rejoice!"
Proverbs 23:24-25

Perhaps there is no duty the obligations of which are more generally
acknowledged than filial piety; none which in the performance yields greater
pleasure; nor which, if neglected brings a more severe or righteous retribution.
All nations, however sunk in barbarism or elevated by science, have admitted the
strength and justice of parental claims; and the unhappy youth who resists them,
stands convicted, condemned and reprobated before the tribunal of the world. On
the other hand, an eminently dutiful child is an object of delight, admiration
and esteem, to all who have an opportunity of witnessing his conduct; he goes
through society surrounded by a glory purer than that of fame, and far more
conducive to his own comfort; he is a blessing to his parents, and is blessed
himself.

Children, may all of you be such—and for that purpose, I ask your fixed
attention to the statement of your duties, as set before you in this chapter.
The obligations of family life are reciprocal. If your parents owe to you all
that I have enjoined upon them, how much do you owe to your parents? I have been
your advocate with them, I now become theirs with you.

Consider well the relationship you sustain to your parents. There is a natural
relationship between you, inasmuch as they are the instruments of your very
existence—a circumstance which of itself seems to invest them, as I have already
said, with an almost absolute authority over you. The commonness, the
universality of the tie, takes off the mind from contemplating its closeness,
its tenderness, its sanctity. You are literally parts of your parents, and
cannot dwell for a moment upon your origin, without being struck, one would
think, with the amazing and solemn weight of obligation that rests upon you
towards a father and a mother. But consider, there is not only a natural, but in
reference to duty, an instituted relationship between you; Jehovah himself has
interposed, and uniting the language of revelation with the dictates of reason;
the force of authority, to the impulse of nature; has called you to filial
piety, not only as a matter of feeling, but of principle. Study then the
relationship, look narrowly and seriously at the relationship existing between
you. Weigh well the significance of the word PARENT; think how much is employed
in it towards its appropriate object, how many offices it contains in
itself—guardian, ruler, teacher, guide, benefactor, provider—WHAT THEN MUST BE
THE OBLIGATIONS OF A CHILD? The following is a brief summary of filial duties—

1. You ought to LOVE your parents.

LOVE is the only state of mind from which all the only other duties that you owe
them, can arise. By love, we mean affection; and surely this is due to a father
and mother. The very relation in which you stand to them demands this. If you
are destitute of this, if you are without any propensity of heart towards them,
you are in a strange and guilty state of mind. Until you are married, or are in
prospect of it, they ought, in most cases, to be the supreme objects of your
earthly affections. It is not enough for you to be respectful and obedient, and
even kind; but, where there exists no reasons for alienating your heart, you
should be fond of them. It is of infinite importance that you should watch over
the internal state of your mind, and not allow dislike, alienation, or
indifference, to extinguish your love towards your parents. Do not take up a
prejudice against them, nor allow an unfavorable impression to be made upon your
mind. Respect and obedience, if they do not spring from love, are valueless in
their nature, and very precarious in their existence.

If you love them, you will delight to be in their company, and take pleasure in
being at home with them. It is painful to them to see that you are happier
anywhere than at home, and fonder of any other society than theirs. No companion
should be so valued by you as a kind father or mother.

If you love them, you will strive in all things to please them. We are always
anxious to please those whom we love, and to avoid whatever would give them
pain. If we are careless whether we please or displease any particular person,
it is obviously impossible that we can have any affection for that person. The
essence of piety towards God is a deep solicitude to please him; and the essence
of filial piety, is a solicitude to please your parents. Young people, dwell
upon this single simple thought, A CHILD’S PLEASURE SHOULD BE TO PLEASE HIS
PARENTS. This is love, and the sum of all your duty. If you would adopt this
rule, if you would write this upon your heart, if you would make this the
standard of your conduct, I might lay down my pen, for it includes everything in
itself.

O that you could be brought to reason and to resolve thus—"I am bound by every
tie of God and man, of reason and revelation, of honor and gratitude, to do all
I can to make my parents happy, by doing whatever will give them pleasure, and
by avoiding whatever will give them pain. By God’s help, I will from this hour
study and do whatever will promote their comfort. I will make my will to consist
in doing theirs, and my earthly happiness to arise from making them happy. I
will sacrifice my own desires, and be satisfied with their choice." Noble
resolution, and just and proper! Adopt it, act upon it, and you will never be
sorry. Do not have any earthly happiness that is enjoyed at the expense of
theirs.

If you love them, you will desire their good opinion. We naturally value the
esteem of those to whom we are attached—we wish to be thought highly of by them;
and if we are quite careless about their respect for us, it is a sure sign we
have no love for them. Children should be desirous and even anxious to stand
high in the opinion of their parents; and nothing can be a more decisive proof
of a bad disposition in a son or a daughter, than their being quite indifferent
what their parents think of them. All love must be gone in such a case as this,
and the youth is in the road to rebellion and destruction—commendation has lost
its value, censure its efficacy, and punishment its power.

2. You ought to RESPECT your parents.

"Honor," says the commandment, "your father and mother." This respect has
respect to your feelings, your words, and your actions. It consists in part of
an inward consciousness of their superiority, and an endeavor to cherish a
reverential frame of mind towards them, as placed by God over you. There must be
high thoughts of their superiority, both natural and instituted, and a
submission of the heart to their authority, in a way of sincere and profound
respect. Even your love must be that which is exercised and expressed towards a
superior. If there be no respect of the heart, it cannot be expected in the
conduct. In all virtue, whether it be that higher kind which has respect to God,
or that secondary kind, which relates to our fellow creatures, we must have a
right state of heart; for without this, virtue does not exist. Your words should
correspond with the reverential feelings of the heart. When speaking to them,
your address, both in language and in tones, should be modest, submissive, and
respectful; not loud, boisterous, impertinent, or even familiar—for they are not
your equals, but your superiors. If at any time you differ from them in opinion,
your views should be expressed, not with the flippancy and pertinaciousness of
disputants, but with the meek inquisitiveness of pupils. Should they reprove you
more sharply than you think is due, you must lay your hand upon your mouth, and
neither answer them back, nor show resentment. Your respect for them should be
so great, as to impose a considerable restraint upon your speech in their
company; for much is due to the presence of a parent.

It is exceedingly offensive to hear a pert, clamorous, talkative young person,
unchecked by the countenance of a father or mother, and engaging much of the
conversation of a party to himself. Young people should always be modest and
retiring in company, but more especially when their parents are there. You
should also be careful about the manner of speaking of them to others. You
should never talk of their faults, for this is like Ham’s uncovering the
nakedness of his father. You must not speak of them in a jocose or familiar
manner, nor say anything that would lead others to think lightly, or to suppose
that you thought lightly of them. If they are attacked in their reputation, you
are with promptitude and firmness, though with meekness, to defend them, so far
as truth will allow; and even if the charge be true, to make all the excuses
that veracity will permit, and protest against the cruelty of degrading your
parents in your presence.

Respect should extend to all your behavior towards your parents. In all your
conduct towards them, give them the greatest honor; let it be observed by others
that you pay them all possible respect, and let it also be seen by themselves,
when there is no spectator near. Your conduct should always be under restraint,
when they are within sight; not the restraint of dread, but of esteem. How would
you act if the king were in the room? Would you be as free, as familiar, as
noisy, as before he had entered? I am of opinion, that parents let down their
dignity, and undermine their authority, by allowing the same crude and
boisterous behavior in their presence, as in their absence. This should not be.
When reason is expanding in children, they should be made to understand and feel
the truth of what I have already affirmed, that there is an outward respect due
to the very presence of a parent. All crude and noisy rushing in and out of a
father or mother’s company is improper. It is the etiquette of our court, that
no one shall enter the royal presence, when the king is upon his throne, without
honor; nor in retiring, turn his back upon the throne. I do not ask for the same
formalities in families, but I ask for the principle from which it arises—a
respectful deference for authority.

3. You ought to OBEY your parents.

"Children obey your parents," says the apostle in his epistle to the Colossians.
This is one of the most obvious dictates of nature; even the irrational
creatures are obedient by instinct, and follow the signs of the parent animal,
or bird, or reptile. Perhaps there is no duty more generally acknowledged than
this. Your obedience should begin early—the younger you are, the more you need a
guide and a ruler.

Obedience should be universal—"Children obey your parents," said the apostle,
"in all things." The only exception to this, is when their commands are, in the
letter or spirit of them, opposed to the commands of God. In this case, as well
as in every other, we must obey God, rather than man. But even here your refusal
to comply with the sinful injunction of a parent, must be uttered in a meek and
respectful manner, so that it shall be manifest you are actuated by pure,
conscientious motives, and not by a mere rebellious resistance of parental
authority. Your obedience should have no other exception than that which is made
by conscience. Your personal inclinations and tastes are out of the
question—both must be crossed, opposed, and set aside, when opposed to parental
authority.

Obedience should be prompt. As soon as the command is uttered, it should be
complied with. It is a disgrace to any child that it should be necessary for a
father or a mother to repeat a command. You should even anticipate, if possible
their injunctions, and not wait until their will is announced in words. A tardy
obedience loses all its glory.

Obedience should be cheerful. A reluctant virtue is no virtue at all.
Constrained and unwilling obedience, is rebellion in principle; it is vice
clothed in the garment of goodness. God loves a cheerful giver, and so does man.
A child retiring from a parent’s presence, muttering, sullen, and murmuring, is
one of the ugliest spectacles in creation—of what value is anything he does, in
such a temper as this?

Obedience should be self-denying. You must give up your own wills, and sacrifice
your own desires, and perform the things that are difficult, as well as those
that are easy. When a soldier receives a command, although he may be at home in
comfort, and he is required at once to go into the field of danger, he hesitates
not, he considers he has no option. A child has no more room for the
gratification of self-will than the soldier has—he must obey.

Obedience should be uniform. Filial obedience is generally rendered without much
difficulty when the parents are present, but not always with the same
unreservedness, when they are absent. Young people, you should despise the
baseness, and abhor the wickedness, of consulting the wishes, and obeying the
injunctions of your parents, only when they are there to witness your conduct.
Such hypocrisy is detestable. Act upon nobler principles. Let it be enough for
you to know what is the will of a parent, to ensure obedience, even though
oceans rolled between you and your father. Carry this injunction with you
everywhere; let the voice of conscience be to you, instead of his voice, and the
consciousness that God sees you be enough to ensure your immediate compliance.

How sublimely simple and striking was the reply of the child, who upon being
pressed in company to take something which his absent parents had forbidden him
to touch; and who, upon being reminded that they were not there to witness him,
replied, "very true, but God and my conscience are here." Be it your
determination, to imitate this beautiful example of filial piety, and obey in
all things even your absent parents.

4. SUBMISSION to the family discipline and rule is no less your duty than
obedience to commands. In every well ordered family there is a rule of
government; there is subordination, system, discipline, reward, and punishment;
and to these, all the children must be in subjection. Submission requires, that
if at any time you have behaved so as to render parental chastisement necessary,
you should take it patiently, and not be infuriated to anger, or excited to
resistance. Remember that your parents are commanded by God to correct your
faults, that they are actuated by love in performing this self-denying duty, and
that it costs them more pain to inflict it, than it does you to endure it.
Sincerely confess your faults, and submit to whatever punishment their authority
and wisdom may appoint.

One of the loveliest sights in the family economy, next to that of a uniformly
obedient child, is a disobedient one brought to a right sense of his misconduct,
and quietly submitting to the penalty he has incurred. It is a proof both of
strength of mind and of good disposition of heart, to say, "I have done the
wrong, and it is proper that I should bear the chastisement." In the case of
elder children, all other correction than that of rebuke, and the expression by
language of parental displeasure, is of course out of the question; but where
this is necessary, such young people as have merited it, should exercise
profound submission. It is exceedingly painful when a parent, in addition to the
extreme pain which it costs him to administer reproof to such children, has to
endure the anguish produced by their utter indifference, smiling contempt,
sullen murmuring, or insolent replies. This conduct is the more guilty, because
the authors of it are arrived at an age when they may be supposed to have
advanced so far in the growth of their understanding, as to perceive how deeply
laid are the foundations of the parental authority, in nature, reason, and
revelation—and how necessary it is that the reins of parental discipline should
not be relaxed. If then, you have committed one error in deserving reproof, do
not commit another in resenting it. Keep all still within, let not your passions
rebel against your judgment, but suppress in a moment the rising tumult of the
soul. The conduct of some children after reproof, is a deeper wound on the heart
of a parent, than that which preceded and deserved the reproof. On the other
hand, I know not a greater mark of nobleness of mind, nor anything which tends
to raise a young person higher in the esteem of a parent, or to endear him more
to a father’s heart, than a humble submission to reproof, and an honest
confession of his fault. A friend of mine had a son, long since gone to join the
immortals, who, having one day displeased his father before his younger brothers
and sisters, not only meekly submitted to parental rebuke, but when the family
were assembled at the dinner table, rose before them all, and after having
confessed his fault, and craved his father’s forgiveness, admonished the junior
branches of the family to take warning by his example, and be cautious never to
distress their parents, whom they were under such obligations to love and
respect. Nothing could be more lovely or more impressive, than this noble act.
He rose, by his apology, to a higher place in the love and esteem of his parents
and the family, than he occupied even before his fault. Sullenness,
impertinence, and obstinate resistance, are baseness, cowardice,
littleness—compared with such an action as this, which combines an heroic
magnanimity with the profoundest humility.

Submission requires also, a due observance of the rules laid down for the
maintenance of family order. In every well ordered family, things are not left
to chance, but regulated by fixed laws; there is a time for everything—and
everything in its time; a place for everything—and everything in its place.
Meals, prayer, going to bed, and rising in the morning, are all in their
appointed season. To these rules it is the obvious duty of every branch of the
family to submit. The sons and daughters may be growing up or arrived at full
age; this matters not, they must submit to the law of the house, and their age
is an additional reason for their submission, as it supposes a maturity of
judgment, which enables them to perceive more clearly the grounds of all moral
obligation. They may think the rules too strict; but if the parent has enacted
them, they should be in submission, and that, as long as they continue members
of the little community, though it be almost to old age.

It is for the parent to decide also what visitors shall be brought to the
house—and it is in the highest degree improper for a child to introduce, or even
wish to attempt to introduce, any companion, contrary to the known will of a
parent. The same remark will apply to recreations. Parents must determine this
point, and no child that has the proper feelings of a child, would desire to set
up any amusements that the taste, and especially that the conscience of a father
or mother forbids. Instances have occurred of young people inviting such
friends, and joining with them in such diversions, in the absence of their
parents, as they know to be decidedly contrary to the law of the house. This is
such an act of base and wicked rebellion against parental authority, and such an
unprincipled disregard to parental comfort, as language is too weak to
characterize.

Even the books which are brought into the house must be in accordance with the
family rule. If the parent forbids the introduction of novels, romances, or any
other books, a child in most cases should forego his own desires, and yield to
an authority which he cannot resist without opposing the institute of nature and
religion.

5. It is the duty of children to CONSULT their parents. Your parents are the
guides of your youth; your natural counselors; the family teachers, which you
are ever to consult, and the responses of which are to be received with pious
respect. Even if you have just reason to suspect the solidity and astuteness of
their judgment, it is due to the relation in which you stand to them, to
undertake nothing without laying the matter before them, and obtaining their
opinion. How much more ready should you be to do this, where you have every
reason to confide in their wisdom. You are young and inexperienced; the path of
life is in a considerable degree untrodden by you, and perplexities are
perpetually arising, which you have yet acquired no experience to understand,
nor to deal properly with. They have traveled the road, and know its turnings,
its dangers, and its difficulties. Go to your parents, then, with every concern;
consult them on the subject of companions, books, recreations. Let a father’s
and a mother’s ear be the receptacle of all your cares. Have no secrets which
you conceal from them.

Especially consult with them on the subjects of occupation and marriage. On the
former, you perhaps need their financial assistance, and how can you expect this
if you take not their advice, as to the best way of employing their property. As
to marriage, I need not repeat at any length what I have already said on this
subject. The scripture has furnished us with many fine instances of the
deference paid in patriarchal times by children to their parents. Isaac and
Jacob both appear to have left the selection of their wives to their parents.
Ruth, though a daughter-in-law, was willing to be guided entirely by Naomi.
Ishmael asked his mother’s advice; and Samson sought for his parent’s consent.
The simplicity of that age has departed, and in the advance of society, more of
the power of selection now vests in the children; but it should not be exercised
independently of parental advice. An old writer has this remark—"It may be
considered, that parents who brought forth and bred up their children, should by
no means be bereft of them, without their consent; and since they are so much
their goods and possessions, it were a kind of purloining to give themselves
away without their parents’ permission." And on this subject, a heathen may
teach many who profess to be Christians; for Cyrus, on being invited to form a
relationship with a particular individual, replied, "I like the woman, her
dowry, and family; but I must have these agree with my parents’ will, and then I
will marry her."

6. IMITATE THE GOOD EXAMPLE of your parents.

I say their good example, for if they unhappily set you a bad one, it is at the
peril of your soul that you follow it. It was a noble answer which Frederick IV
returned to the prince, who advised him to follow the example of his father
Lewis—"In the business of religion we must follow the example of parents and
ancestors, only so far as they are agreeable to the will of God." Marcus
Aurelius Antonius, when he came to the throne of Imperial Rome, publicly
expressed his determination not to follow the usual conduct of the Caesars, but
to act as a disciple of the pious Antonine, and to act, and speak, and think, as
his foster-father did. Survey the conduct of your parents; let their failings be
thrown back in shadow, their excellences brought out in full sight. Where they
are truly pious, be followers of their religious character. You bear the
likeness of their bodies, receive also the impress of their minds. Seek to catch
the family feature of their piety. A wicked child, of godly parents, is the most
awful character upon earth. With what horror do I look upon such an one! That he
should swear, who was taught to pray! That he should violate the Sabbath, who
was led up from his infantine days, to the house of God! That he should despise
religion, who has ever seen its beautiful form, in the example of a godly
father, and a pious mother! That he should be a friend of profane and unclean
people, who from a child has been the companion of saints! Shocking spectacle!!
But even where there may be no actual irreligion, there is oftentimes a lack of
true religion; and this also, is distressing. What an aggravation is it to the
sin of being an unbeliever, to have lived all the earlier part of life, with an
example of true godliness before our eyes! This is a dreadful and actual
resistance of the most alluring means which heaven ever employs for the
conversion of a sinner; it is a resolute determination to neglect and forget
religion, in spite of an attracting and powerful memorial of it constantly
before your eyes. What a meeting will such children have with their parents at
the last day!!

7. The last duty I shall mention is KINDNESS. This should extend through the
whole of your deportment; but there are several cases in which it will have a
more enlarged opportunity for displaying its beauty, and exerting its energy.
When parents are greatly inferior in talents and acquirements, it is a fine
occasion for the exercise of filial piety. We know instances in which the father
and mother are lamentably deficient, not only in information, but in
judgment—their weakness is manifest to all, and cannot be concealed from their
family; by whom, indeed, the sad effects of their imbecility are daily felt and
deplored. Here then is an opportunity for a display of noble and exalted
kindness, on the part of children. Young people, if you are placed in such
circumstances, endeavor constantly to remember that notwithstanding all their
weakness, they are your parents still, and hold a parent’s claim. Never, never
taunt them with their defects, for this is cruelty in the extreme; but on the
contrary, strive to the uttermost to prevent them from suffering any painful
consciousness of their inferiority. Do not laugh at their mistakes, nor ever
allow yourselves to expose or to correct them in such a way, as to wound their
feelings. If they are obstinate, yield to them; if irritable, bear with them—and
when they show their incapacity for governing with wisdom, instead of snatching
the scepter from their hand—imperceptibly assist them to wield it with greater
propriety. It is a beautiful sight to behold a fine, intelligent, strong-minded
son or daughter, straining every nerve, and employing every faculty to endure
and conceal the faults of such a parent, and to throw an air of respectability
over one, who has no respectability of his own.

"There is often, especially in the middle classes of life, as great a difference
of mental culture in the parent and the child, as if they had lived at the
distance of many centuries. The wealth that has been acquired by patient
industry or some fortunate adventure, may be employed in diffusing all the
refinements of science and literature to the children of those to whom the very
words, science and literature, are words of which they would scarcely be able,
even with the help of a dictionary, to understand the meaning. In a rank of life
still lower, there are not lacking many meritorious individuals, who,
uninstructed themselves, labor indefatigably to obtain the means of liberal
instruction of a child, whose wisdom in after years, where he is to astonish the
village, may gratify at once their ambition and love.

It would indeed, be painful to think, that anyone, whose superiority of
knowledge has cost his parents so much fatigue, and so many privations of
comforts, which, but for the expense of the means of his acquired superiority,
they might have enjoyed, should turn against them, in his own mind, the
acquirements which were to them of so costly a purchase, despising them for the
very ignorance which gave greater merit to their sacrifice, and proud of a
wisdom far less noble, when it can thus feel contempt, than the humble ignorance
which it despises."

Kindness will show itself in generous attention to POOR parents. In the
revolution of this world, and by the vicissitudes of human affairs, many
children have left their parents behind them in the humble valley of poverty,
and some have lost their filial piety in the ascent. Few more shocking scenes
can be presented to a feeling mind, than a rich son or daughter ashamed of, and
unkind to, his poor father or mother. Such wretches deserve the fate of the
proud monarch of Babylon, and would have no more than their desert if they were
driven from the company of men to herd with beasts, to which they are more
allied in disposition than to human beings!

How beautiful a scene, the very opposite of that which I have just considered,
was exhibited in the palace of Pharaoh, when Joseph, then the Prime Minister of
Egypt, led in a poor old shepherd to the presence of the king, and before all
the lords of the Egyptian court, introduced the decrepit and care-worn pilgrim
as his father. Who, after looking at this, will ever be ashamed of a parent
because his is clad in the garb of poverty? What a halo of glory did that one
act draw round the honored brow of Joseph; the luster of the golden chain that
hung from his neck was dim compared with the brightness of this action; and the
chariot in which he rode with almost imperial pomp before the people, raised him
not to so high an eminence, as that which he occupied, when he stood before the
monarch with the patriarch of Canaan leaning on his arm. Never be ashamed of
your parents then, because of their poverty.

Let your kindness operate in the way of affording them all things necessary for
their comfort.

Kindness will manifest itself by affectionate attention and tender sympathy, in
their sickness. I do not know where in all our world to find a lovelier, holier,
sweeter scene, than that of a pious and affectionate daughter, devoting her
time, and strength, and inventive diligence, to the comfort of a mother or a
father confined for years to the room and the bed of sickness. Such children I
have known; and ineffably admired who, at an age when there is usually a taste
and capacity for the pleasures of society, have abstracted themselves from all
company, to be the constant and almost sole companion of that dear sufferer, to
alleviate whose sorrows was their only happiness. Scarcely have they permitted
themselves to walk abroad and enjoy the scenes of nature, even to recruit their
wasting strength and prepare for fresh activities in the sick chamber, lest in
their absence a pang should be felt which none could so well mitigate as they,
or a need endured which they could best supply.

I knew one such, who, had the sick father lived much longer, would have preceded
him to the grave, and died a martyr to filial piety. Nothing could ever tempt
her away from his side by day, and not often did a night pass without her
stealing quietly to the chamber door, at which unconscious of the frost which
was assailing her delicate frame, she stood listening to ascertain if all was
still, not daring to enter, lest she should disturb that slumber which perhaps
he was enjoying.

I remember in another case, visiting a cottage, in which a sick man lay dying,
who had been long ill; his wife was ministering to his comfort, and in one
corner of the room, there was a girl of twelve years of age busily employed at
her needle. On my asking how they were supported in their affliction, the mother
replied, "principally, sir, by that child’s work; she is up every morning at
four o’clock, and is diligently employed until late at night; she cheerfully
bears all this labor, and gives its income to sustain us."

Young people, read and ponder these interesting details, and imitate these
beautiful examples. Put forth all your tenderness, shrink from no self-denial;
endure, not only without murmuring, but with cheerfulness, any sacrifices to
comfort a sick parent. Aspire to the character of being a ministering angel to a
father or mother. Let them see that you account it no hardship, but a felicity
to wait upon them. It is in your power to alleviate or aggravate to an
inconceivable degree their sufferings, according as you are kind or unkind.
Covet the testimony which many a one has received, when the sufferer has said,
with tears in her eyes, "that dear child is my companion, my friend, my nurse,
and all my earthly delight." O what are the sweet sounds at the concert?—what
are the gay and glittering attractions of the ballroom?—what are the dazzling
scenes of the theatre?—or to come to more lawful enjoyments—what the
exhilaration of the public meeting, compared with the consciousness of having
smoothed the bed of sickness, and alleviated the sufferings of disease, for an
afflicted parent.

If the conscience of any that shall read these pages shall reproach them for
neglect—if they know that they have heard their parents mildly reprove them for
their lack of sympathy, let them consider what must be the anguish of those
parents’ hearts, who have to say in the bitterness of their soul, to their own
children, "Is it nothing to you, all you that pass by, come, see if there was
ever sorrow like unto my sorrow;" and who, disappointed in the hope of
tenderness from their own offspring, turn for help to their neighbors; and
taking up the piteous complaint of Job, say, "Pity me, pity me, O my friends,
for the hand of God has touched me." Unfeeling youth, your neglect will one day
find you out, and at some future time may be, perhaps, returned upon you by the
cruel conduct of your own children!

Kindness will often be put to a severe test, by the bad temper, or the stern and
tyrannical government of parents. It is difficult, I know, to be kind to those
who are unkind to us; but it is our duty in all cases, much more to a parent.
Nothing must allow you to be otherwise than the dutiful, affectionate child. No
ebullitions of anger, no manifestation of unreasonable discontent, no caprice,
no unmerited reproach on their part, should throw you off your guard. It may be
sometimes necessary to remonstrate, but never can be proper to return railing
for railing. Kindness may do more, in such circumstances, to soften and remove
the evil, than angry resistance—"A soft answer turns away wrath."

"How delightful is the spectacle, when amid all the temptation of youth and
beauty, we witness some gentle heart, that gives to the couch of the feeble, and
perhaps of the thankless and repining, those hours which others find too short
for the successive gaieties with which an evening can be filled, and that
prefers to the smile of universal admiration, the single smile of enjoyment,
which, after many vain efforts has at last been kindled on one solitary cheek!"

Another circumstance remains to be mentioned, which will render it extremely
difficult, sometimes, to be at once obedient to God, and to your
parents—difficult to manifest all the kindness which they may expect, and at the
same time, to regard the dictates of conscience; I mean, where the children are
pious, and the parents are still in an unconverted state. This is no uncommon
case, and always a trying one wherever it occurs. Those who are placed in such a
situation, need much wisdom and much grace to conduct themselves with propriety,
so as to give no unnecessary pain to their parents, and yet at the same time, to
maintain their consistency as Christians. To young people in such circumstances,
I say, let there be deep and sincere humility; no spiritual pride, no apparent
consciousness of moral superiority, no saying, "stand aside—I am holier than
you;" nothing approaching, in the most distant manner, to contempt of your
parents, on account of their unconverted state. When it is necessary, as it
sometimes may be, to oppose their wishes and refuse their requests, because they
interfere with your duty to God, let your dissent not assume the shape of
disobedience to them, let it be expressed in a mild and respectful manner, and
be made obviously to appear to be the result of conscientious motives, and not
of caprice, or any lack of right feeling towards them. In all other things, in
which religion is not concerned, let there be additional effort and ingenuity to
please them, so that they may have nothing against you, but as touching the law
of your God.

It may be sometimes necessary for you to express the deep concern which you
ought always to feel for their spiritual welfare; you must then be careful to
avoid the appearance of dictation, lecturing, and reproach, and address
yourselves to them in a humble and prudent manner. You should put suitable books
in their way; and if they are not in the habit of hearing the gospel preached,
you may invite them to hear the joyful sound. With all this, you must take
especial pains, that your own religion may be consistent and practical; visible
in all your conduct, and more particularly conspicuous, in the kind, and tender,
and dutiful manner, in which you discharge your obligations to them.

Such is a compendium of filial duties. Let children read them, study them,
sincerely desire to perform them, and pray to Almighty God for the grace that is
in Christ Jesus, to assist them in discharging their obligations.

Many convincing MOTIVES may be brought forward to enforce the performance of
these duties.

Observe the manner in which filial duties are enjoined in scripture. Perhaps
there are few branches of moral obligation more frequently alluded to, or more
variously enjoined, than that of filial piety. The lives of the Patriarchs, from
the beginning of the world, are so drawn up as to exhibit and recommend this
virtue. It is commanded in one of the precepts of the Moral law—"Honor your
father and your mother." By the ceremonial law, stubborn disobedience to
parental authority was punished with death. The book of Proverbs contains almost
innumerable instructions on this subject. The prophets very frequently allude to
it—and Jeremiah, in the history of the Rechabites, has preserved a very
extraordinary instance of hereditary filial obedience, perpetuated through a
period, which, in the time of that prophet, had lasted three centuries, and
which was rewarded by the following testimony and promise of the Lord—"Then
Jeremiah turned to the Recabites and said—This is what the Lord Almighty, the
God of Israel, says: You have obeyed your ancestor Jehonadab in every respect,
following all his instructions. Because of this, Jehonadab son of Recab will
always have descendants who serve me. I, the Lord Almighty, the God of Israel,
have spoken!" Jeremiah 35:18-19

If we come forward to the New Testament, we find filial duties again and again
brought into view. We see it embodied and enforced in the example of Christ; of
whom it is said, Jesus was subject unto his parents. Yes, in the matchless
constellation of perfect moral excellences that formed his character, and are
presented for our admiration and imitation, one bright and beauteous star is
filial piety. Fix, young people, your eye upon that star, so mildly beaming, and
so radiantly shining, as an example for you. That wonderful personage, GOD
MANIFEST IN THE FLESH, was subject, we have reason to believe, to his parents,
until at the age of thirty he entered upon his public ministry; and those
parents, be it remembered, were a poor but pious couple, who earned their daily
bread by the sweat of their brow. With them he dwelt, in their humble abode, and
labored, in all probability, for their support. And even amid the agonies of the
cross, neither his own personal suffering, nor the sublime and glorious scenes
connected with the redemption of a world, abstracted his thoughts and solicitude
from the mother of his human nature; and even then did filial piety shine forth,
a bright speck still visible upon the orb of glory, which was rising upon the
world. The apostles enforced filial duties by various commendations. "Children,
obey your parents," says Paul in one place, "for it is right;" a thing not
obligatory merely because it is commanded, but commanded because it is right;
not a mere positive institute, but wholly moral; a duty enjoined not only by
revelation, but by reason; one of the first lessons taught by nature to a
rational creature. So right and proper is it, that all nations, ancient and
modern, civilized and savage, admit its obligations. In another place, it is
declared to be "well pleasing unto the Lord." It is that in which he delights,
because it is the very disposition towards himself which he requires. And then,
in his catalogue of dark deeds, and horrid dispositions, and atrocious
characters, the apostle places disobedience to parents. The loud, strong voice
of revelation is lifted to proclaim over the surface of the globe, "Children
obey your parents, and honor your father and mother; for this is well pleasing
to the Lord:" while the voice of nature echoes back the command, "Children, obey
your parents, for this is right." A child of any degree of generosity will be
influenced to obey his parents, by a consideration of their comfort. The earthly
happiness of a father and a mother, depends far more upon the conduct of their
children, than upon anything else. Their trade may prosper, their wealth
accumulate; they may dwell amid every kind of luxury and splendor, in the most
beautiful spot which creation can present, yet an undutiful child may, by his
disobedience and unkindness, throw a dark and chilling shadow over all, and
envelope everything in gloom. On the other hand, affectionate and obedient
children supply the lack of riches, soften the weight of care, sweeten the cup
of affliction, and shed a pleasing light over what would be otherwise a dark and
dreary scene of human woe. Children have their parents’ happiness in their
keeping. They stand at the fountains of our earthly destiny, and send into our
dwelling the waters of bitterness or of sweetness, as their conduct towards us
shall be dutiful or unkind. They cannot know, until experience shall teach them,
the trembling and exquisite sensitiveness of our hearts, and how slight a
puncture draws the life’s blood of our peace. So true it is, as was said by the
wise man, that "a wise child brings joy to a father; a foolish child brings
grief to a mother." "A foolish child brings grief to a father and bitterness to
a mother." A foolish child is a spot on their character; a blast upon their
hopes—a nuisance to their family; and a thorn in their hearts!

Nearly connected with this, as another motive, is GRATITUDE. No child can know,
until he becomes a parent himself, what he owes to his parents; and not then
until he has added all the cares, and toils, and concerns which are elicited by
the child, the boy, the youth, the man—in addition to those which are awakened
by the infant of days. Parental solicitude is, of course, produced by the first
sight of the child; but the infancy of the babe, is but the infancy of our
solicitude, which grows with its growth, and strengthens with its strength.
Children are ever contracting obligations from the first moment of their
existence. What does the babe not owe to his mother—for that watchfulness, and
labor, and concern, which scarcely rest by day, or sleep by night.

Other animals, though nourished by their parents, are taught many things by
instinct; but man, the most helpless of all creatures, must learn everything
from his parents, in the first stage of his existence. Let anyone calculate, if
he can, the hours of labor, sleeplessness and concern; the tears, the
tremblings, the alarms, which one weakly infant costs a mother, before he leaves
her arms, and stands erect upon his feet in his own strength. My young friend,
had your mother remitted her care for one single hour, or ceased, but for a
short season, her vigilant diligence, you might have now been a cripple or an
idiot. How many months rolled by, before you could wash away a speck of
defilement from your body, help yourself to medicine, or to food, express in
articulate language a single need, put on a garment, or defend yourself against
an enemy so feeble as a wasp. What then are your obligations to the woman who
did all this for you—and delighted to do it?

I cannot follow you through the successive stages of your existence, at each of
which, you were accumulating fresh obligations to both father and mother, for
education, with all its advantages, for instruction in trade, and that capacity
you now possess for attaining to respectability in life; but above all, for that
ceaseless, and manifest, and earnest solicitude for your eternal happiness, by
which you have had the road to glory, honor, and immortality opened to your
view—and have been admonished to walk in it! O, sum up, if you can, your
obligations to your parents—but you cannot! And can you resist this motive to
obedience? What—has gratitude perished in your soul, until its very root has
died in the soil of your depraved nature? Yes; it must be so, if you are unkind
to your parents—you stand proved before the universe, to have nothing of a
child, but the name and the mere fleshly relation, which you possess in common
with the tiger, or the serpent, or the toad, but you have not the feelings of a
child; you are a kind of monstrous production, out of the course of nature, and
like all such productions, fill the mind with loathing and horror.

Few there are, I hope, that will read these pages, to whom such an admonition is
applicable; on the contrary, many, I believe, will experience as they proceed,
the generous emotions of gratitude swelling higher and higher in their bosom,
until, with a burst of virtuous feeling, they exclaim, "Accept, my parents, of
the surrender, which a sense of my obligation to you compels me to make, of my
whole future life, to the promotion of your comfort."

Personal interest pleads with children for their dutiful behavior to their
parents. An undutiful child cannot be a happy one. Peace must leave the bosom
with filial piety, whenever it departs; and uneasiness and misery, and
occasional shame and remorse, enter to dwell in the wretched bosom; while the
affectionate and dutiful child has a perpetual feast within. And mark the
language of the apostle, "Honor your father and mother; which is the first
commandment with promise; that it may be well with you, and that you may live
long on the earth." This is an allusion, it is true, to the temporal promises of
the Sinai Covenant, and perhaps to the law which doomed the disobedient son to
be judicially cut off from the people. But yet, as repeated by a New Testament
writer, it must to a certain extent, be in force still.

Dr. Dwight has the following remarks on this passage which deserve
consideration. "In conversing with the plain people of this country,
distinguished for their good sense, and careful observation of facts, I have
found them, to a great extent, firmly persuaded of the verification of this
promise in our own times; and ready to produce a variety of proofs from cases,
in which they have seen the blessing realized. Their opinion is mine, and with
their experience my own has coincided.

"Indeed no small measure of prosperity seems ordinarily interwoven with a course
of filial piety. The comfort which it ensures to parents, the harmony which it
produces in the family, the peace which it yields in the conscience, are all
essential ingredients of happiness. To these it adds the approbation of every
beholder, the possession of a fair and lasting reputation, the confidence and
good will of every worthy man, and of consequence, an opportunity of easily
gaining those useful employments which good men have to give. Beyond this it
naturally associates itself with temperance, moderation, and sobriety, which
furnish a solid foundation for health and long life. In my own apprehension,
however, these are not all its blessings. I do not say that miracles are wrought
for its reward. Neither will I say that purer gales breathe to preserve its
health; nor that softer suns arise, or more timely rains descend, to mature its
harvest; nor that more propitious winds blow, to waft its ships home in safety.
But I will say, that on the tide of Providence multiplied blessings are borne
into its possession, at seasons when they are unexpected, in ways unforeseen,
and by means unprovided by its own forecast, which are often of high importance;
which, altogether, constitute a rich proportion of prosperity; and which,
usually, are not found by people of the contrary character. At the same time
those who act well as children, almost of course, act well as men and women; and
thus have taken, without design, the scion of happiness from the parental stock,
and grafted it upon other stems, which bear fruit abundantly to themselves.
Here, in the language of Dr. Watts, ’It revives, and bears, A train of blessings
for their heirs.’"

If motives so forcible and tender as these, have no effect, nothing is left me
to do, but to remind the children of disobedience, of that day of judgment,
which God has appointed to judge the world in righteousness, by Jesus Christ,
and to give to everyone according to the things done in the body, whether they
are good or bad. "In that most dreadful time, when the wicked shall see the
judge sit above them, angry and severe, inexorable and dreadful; under them an
intolerable hell—within them their consciences clamorous and diseased; outside
them, all the world on fire; on the right hand, those men glorified, whom they
persecuted and despised; on the left hand, the devils accusing;" then shall it
be found that the severest sentence of the Almighty, and the bitterest dregs of
the vials of his wrath, will be poured out on the disobedient and ungodly child
of those parents who trained him up in the nurture of the Lord!


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  CHAPTER 10: 01.08.     DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS
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Duties of brothers and sisters

"Next in order to the relationship of the parent and the child, may be
considered the relation which the child bears to those who are united with him
by the same tie, to the same parental bosoms. If friendship be delightful, if it
be above all delightful to enjoy the continued friendship of those who are
endeared to us by the intimacy of many years, who can discourse with us of the
frolics of the school, of the adventures and studies of the college, of the
years when we first ranked ourselves with men in the free society of the world,
how delightful must be the friendship of those who, accompanying us through all
this long period, with a closer union than any casual friend, can go still
farther back, from the school to the very nursery, who have witnessed our common
pastimes; who have had an interest in every event that has related to us, and in
every person that excited our love or our hatred; who have honored with us those
to whom we have paid every filial honor in life, and wept with us over those
whose death has been to us the most lasting sorrow of our heart. Such in its
wide, unbroken sympathy, is the friendship of brothers, considered even as
friendship only—and how many circumstances of additional interest does this
union receive, from the common relationship to those who have original claims to
our still higher love, and to whom we offer an acceptable service, in extending
our affection to those whom they love. In treating of the circumstances that
tend peculiarly to strengthen this tie, Cicero extends his view even to the
common sepulcher that is at last to enclose us. It is indeed a powerful image, a
symbol, and almost a lesson of unanimity. Every dissension of man with man,
excites in us a feeling of painful incongruity. But we feel a peculiar
incongruity in the discord of those, whom one roof has continued to shelter
through life, and whose dust is afterwards to mingle under a single stone."
Thomas Brown. The happiness and welfare of a family, depend not exclusively on
the conduct of the parents to the children, nor on the conduct of the children
to the parents, but also on the conduct of the children to each other. No family
can be happy where a right feeling is lacking on the part of brothers and
sisters. Nothing can be a substitute for this defect, and it is of great
importance that all young people should have this set in a proper light before
them. Many households are a constant scene of confusion, a perpetual field of
strife, and an affecting spectacle of misery, through the quarrels and ill-will
of those, who as flesh of each other’s flesh, and blood of each other’s blood,
ought to have towards each other, no feeling but that of love, and to use no
words but those of kindness.

I will divide the sibling duties into three kinds—into those that are
appropriate to the season of childhood—of youth—of manhood. The general
principles which are to regulate the discharge of these duties, and on which
indeed they rest, are the same in reference to all seasons of life. Love, for
instance, is equally necessary, whether brothers and sisters are sporting
together in the nursery, dwelling together as young men and women beneath the
parental roof, or descending the hill of life at the head of separate
establishments and families of their own. Over and above the feelings of
friendship, or of moral esteem, there must be feelings of delight in them, as
related to us by the ties of the same blood; a consciousness, that by the
dispensations of providence in uniting them to us by a bond of nature, and which
nothing but death can dissolve, they have acquired a claim upon our efforts to
make them happy, which is stronger than that of any strangers, except it be in
those cases, where our brothers and sisters have by their unkind and cruel
conduct, thrown off everything but their name, and choose to become a stranger
to us. And even in this case, we must still consider that they are our brothers,
mourn their alienation with grief, view their aberrations with pity, watch them
in their wanderings with an anxious interest, and keep the way open for their
return to our fellowship.

Children of the same parent who are lacking in love, are lacking in the first
virtue of a brother and a sister as such. It is true, they may find companions
more to their taste, considered as mere subjects of intellectual or general
companionship, people of more agreeable manners, of more pleasing tempers, of
more cultivated minds; but these are not brothers, nor must the perception,
which in some cases it is impossible to avoid, of their great superiority in
many respects, destroy that natural impulse, which the heart ought ever to feel
and to obey, towards a brother or a sister. This love must of course be
increased or diminished in its exercise, by circumstances, such as good or bad
conduct, kindness or unkindness, but nothing must destroy the principle. The
scripture, which is so replete with admonitions on almost every other subject,
has said little on this—it has left nature spontaneously to send forth its
sibling energies; and though containing many exhortations to the children of God
to abound in brotherly love, has said little on this topic to the children of
men; a reserve which seems rather to imply that the duty is so obvious and so
easy, as not to need an injunction, than that the discharge of it is not
obligatory or not important. A child, a youth, or a man, who feels no goings
forth of his heart, no peculiar interest, no appropriate and restrictive
emotions towards a brother or a sister, is lacking in one of those social
virtues, which it was certainly the intention of Providence should arise out of
the relative ties. But I will now go on to state how the various sibling duties
should be discharged in CHILDHOOD.

Brothers and sisters should make it a study to promote each other’s happiness.
They should take pleasure in pleasing each other, instead of each being
selfishly taken up in promoting his own separate enjoyment. They should never
envy each other’s gratification; if one has a more valuable plaything than the
other, the rest should rather rejoice than be sorry. Envy in children is likely
to grow into a most baleful and malignant disposition. They should never take
each other’s possessions away, and be always willing to lend what cannot be
divided, and to share what does admit of being divided. Each must do all he can
to promote the happiness of the others. They should never be indifferent to each
other’s sorrows, much less laugh at, and sport with each other’s tears and
griefs. It is a lovely sight to see one child weeping because another is in
distress. A boy that sees his brother or sister weep, and can be unconcerned or
merry at the sight, would when he becomes a man, in all probability, see them
starve without helping them.

Children should never accuse each other to their parents, nor like to see each
other punished. An informer is a hateful and detestable character; but a
tattle-tale against his brother or sister, is the most detestable of all spies.
If, however, one should see another doing that which is wrong, and which is
known to be contrary to the will of their parents, he should first in a kind and
gentle manner point out the wrong, and give an intimation that if it be not
discontinued, he shall be obliged to mention it—and if the warning be not taken,
it is then manifestly his duty to acquaint their parents with the fact.

Children must not tease or torment one another. How much family uneasiness
sometimes arises from this source—one of the children, perhaps, has an infirmity
or weakness of temper, or awkwardness of manner, or personal deformity, and the
rest, instead of pitying it, tease and torment the unhappy individual, until all
get quarreling and crying together. Is this promoting their mutual comfort? If
there be anyone of the family that is in bad health, or weakly--all the rest,
instead of neglecting that one, ought to strive to the uttermost to amuse him.
How pleasing a sight it is, to see a child giving up his play time, to read to,
or converse with, a sick brother or sister; while nothing is more disgusting
than that selfishness which will not spare a single hour for the amusement of
the poor sufferer upon the bed, or the little prisoner in the nursery. As to
fighting, quarreling, or calling bad names, this is so utterly disgraceful, that
it is a deep shame upon those children who live in such practices. Dr. Watts has
very beautifully said—

"Whatever brawls disturb the street, There should be peace at home, Where
sisters dwell, and brothers meet Quarrels should never come.

"Birds in their little nests agree; And ’tis a shameful sight, When children of
one family, Fall out, and chide, and fight.

"Hard names at first, and threatening words, That are but noisy breath, May grow
to clubs and fearful swords, To murder and to death."

Children that are removed from home to school, should be both watchful over, and
kind to each other. They should manifest a peculiar and kind interest in each
other’s comfort, and not neglect one another. It is pleasant to see two brothers
or two sisters, always anxious to have each other as playmates, or as members of
the little circle with which they associate, defending one another from
oppression or unkindness, and striving to make their absence from home, as
comfortable as they can by their mutual kindness.

I go on now to show in what way brothers and sisters should behave towards each
other, during the season of YOUTH.

I now suppose them to have arrived at the age of fourteen, and state their
obligations between that period and the time when they settle in life. There
should of course be a tender attachment, which becomes stronger and more
visible, as they acquire a greater power of reason to understand their
relationship and the design of Providence in forming this relation. Instead of
this, however, we sometimes see brothers and sisters become more and more
indifferent to each other, as they recede farther from the period of infancy.
They should now reason upon the closeness of their relationship, and let the
understanding give an additional impulse to their hearts. They should be fond of
each other’s society, and put forth all their ingenuity to please one another.

It would have a delightful influence upon their mutual attachment, if their
little separate proportion of pocket money were sometimes employed in making
each other presents. How happy a state of feeling would be produced, if a
sister, after having incidently expressed a wish for some little article, were
to be surprised soon after by finding that a brother had, unknown to her,
purchased the useful gift, and placed it upon her desk. Sisters should put forth
all their assiduity to provide for brothers whatever the needle can do for their
personal accommodation, and feel a hallowed delight in giving their labor to
increase the comforts and conveniences of those, whom it should be their study
to please. A family of grown up children, should be the constant scene of
uninterrupted harmony, where love, guided by ingenuity, puts forth all its power
to please, by those mutual good offices, and minor acts of beneficence, of which
every day furnishes the opportunity, and which, while they cost little in the
way either of money or labor, contribute so much to the happiness of the
household. One of the most delightful sights in our world, where there is so
much moral deformity to disgust, and so much unkindness to distress, is a family
circle, where the parents are surrounded by their children, of which, the
daughters are being employed in elegant or useful work, and the elder brother
reading some instructive and improving volume, for the benefit or entertainment
of the whole.

Young people, seek your happiness in each other’s society. What can the brother
find in the circle of dissipation, or among the votaries of intemperance to
compare with this? What can the sister find amid the concert of sweet sounds,
that has music for the soul compared with this family harmony? Or in the glitter
and fashionable confusion, and mazy dance of the ballroom, compared with these
pure, calm, sequestered joys, which are to be found at the fireside of a happy
family? What can the theatre yield that is comparable with this?

I would advise all young people to read "The Task," and especially the fourth
book; and to read it, until they grow in love with those pure and hallowed
home-born pleasures, which are at once the most attainable and the most
satisfying of any to be found in our curse-stricken world.

It is of great importance to the pleasant communion of brothers and sisters,
that each should pay particular attention to the cultivation of the temper. I
have known all the comfort of a family destroyed by the influence of one
passionate or sullen disposition. Where such a disposition unhappily exists, the
subject of it should take pains to improve it, and the other branches of the
family, instead of teasing, or irritating, or provoking it, should exercise all
possible forbearance, and with ingenious kindness help their unfortunate
relative in the difficult business of self-control. As woman seems formed by
nature to execute the offices of a nurse, sisters should be peculiarly kind and
tender to sick brothers; for there are few things which tend more to conciliate
affection, than sympathy with us in our sufferings, and all those gentle and
willing efforts, which, if they cannot mitigate our pains, have such a power to
soothe our minds and divert our attention from the sense of suffering.

Mutual respect should be shown by brothers and sisters; all coarse, vulgar,
degrading terms and modes of address should be avoided; and nothing but what is
courteous, either done or said. The communion of siblings should be marked, not
indeed by the stiffness of ceremony, nor the coldness of formality, not the
cautious timidity of suspicion--but by the politeness of good manners, blended
with all the tenderness of love. It is peculiarly requisite also, that while
this is maintained at home, there should not be disrespectful neglect in
company. It is painful for a sister to find herself more neglected than the
greatest stranger, and thus exposed to others as one in whom her brother feels
no interest.

Brothers ought not, even in lesser matters, to be tyrants over their sisters,
and expect from them the subservience of slaves. The poor girls are sometimes
sadly treated, and rendered miserable by the caprice, and pranks, and iron yoke
of some insolent and lordly boy. Where the parents are living, they ought not to
allow such oppression. Of such a despot let all young women beware, for he who
is a tyrant to his sister, is sure to be a tyrant also to a wife!

It is of great consequence, that brothers and sisters should maintain epistolary
correspondence when absent from each other. It must be a very strong love which
separation, especially when it is for a long time, does not diminish. Flames
burn brightest in the vicinity of each other. An affectionate letter received
from an absent friend, tends to fan the dying spark of affection. They who can
be long separated without such a bond as this, are already in a state of
indifference to each other, and are in rapid progress to still wider alienation.

Brothers and sisters should be very careful, not to become estranged from each
other after the death of their parents; of which there is always some danger.
While one parent remains, though the other be gone to the sepulcher, there is a
common center of family affection still left, by drawing near to which, the
members are kept near to each other; but when this survivor has also departed,
the point of union is gone, and the household is likely, without great
watchfulness to be divided and distracted.

How often does this happen by the division of the family property?* The grave
has scarcely closed over the parental remains, before strife, confusion, and
every evil work begin in reference to the parental possessions. To guard against
this, the father should ever have his will made, a will made upon the obvious
principles of wisdom and equity. Any attempt on the part of one child, to turn a
parent’s mind from the line of strict impartiality and equity towards the
others; any advantage taken of opportunities of more frequent access, to the
parental ear and prejudices, to gain more than a just share of his property, is
an act so base, so foul, and wicked, as to deserve the most severe, and
impassioned, and indignant denunciation. Even in this case, however, the injured
branches of the family, should not so far resent the matter, as to withdraw from
all communion with the supplanter—remonstrate they may, and abate something of
their esteem and love they must, but still they are required by scripture to
forgive him, and not to cherish hatred, or to manifest revenge. Unless in cases
of unusual and extraordinary greed, the sibling communion ought not to be
stopped by unfair advantages of this kind.

* This, perhaps, rather belongs to the third division of the subject. There are
instances, however, in which an unequal division of property, is not an unjust
one, and ought not to be felt as such, by the party which receives the lesser
share. If one child has become possessed of wealth from another source, I do not
think that he ought to consider himself unfairly dealt with, if he does not
receive so large a portion of the family property, as his brothers and sisters
do. Or if there be one branch of the family, prevented, by the visitations of
Providence from all active labor, the rest ought not to think it unfair, if a
parent makes a larger provision for this deformed or helpless child, than for
the other branches. The alienation of brothers and sisters on account of
financial matters, is usually a matter of deep disgrace to them all; not only to
the greedy spoiler, but also to the rest. But in what terms shall I depict the
atrocious wickedness of a villainous brother, who, after the death of their
parents, would employ his influence to wheedle and swindle an unmarried sister
out of her property, and reduce her to poverty and dependance, to indulge his
own greed, or to avert calamity from himself? Such wretches have existed, and do
exist; who, taking advantage of a sister’s strong affection, combined with her
ignorance of money matters, never cease, until, by all the arts of subtlety,
they have got out of her possession the last shilling she has in the world; and
then, perhaps, when she has nothing more for them to pilfer, abandon the victim
of their cruelty, with the remorselessness of a highwayman, to poverty and
misery. Let such monsters remember, that there is one in heaven whose eye has
been upon all their wicked deceits and cruel robbery, and who, for all these
things will bring them into judgment. It is an act of cruelty in any brother,
who, without any dishonest intention perhaps, would wish to jeopardize the
property of a sister, in order either to increase his own gains, or to avert his
own dreaded misfortunes. She may be very unfitted to struggle with poverty, and
altogether disqualified for earning support by her own industry, and therefore
ought not to be exposed to the danger of losing her property. Cases do occur
sometimes, in which it may be proper, and even necessary, for the property of
unmarried sisters to be employed in the trade of their brothers; but as a
general rule, it is unadvisable—and where it does happen, the latter should let
all their conduct be conducted on the principles of the greatest caution, the
most rigid integrity, and the noblest generosity.

Brothers ought ever, after the death of their parents, to consider themselves as
the natural guardians of unmarried sisters; their advisers in difficulty, their
comforters in distress, their protectors in danger, their sincere, tender,
liberal, and unchanging friends, amid all the scenes and vicissitudes of life.
It is rarely advisable that a sister should permanently dwell with a married
brother; but then, even the much stronger claims of the wife, ought not to
cancel or throw into oblivion those of the sister.

I will now suppose the case of one or more branches of the family, who are
brought by divine grace, to be partakers of true religion; and point out what is
their duty to the rest, and what the duty of the rest to them. In reference to
the former, it is manifestly their solemn and irrevocable obligation, to seek,
by every affectionate, scriptural, and judicious effort, the real conversion of
those of the family who are yet living without heartfelt religion. O how often
has the leaven of piety, when by divine mercy and power it has been laid in the
heart of one of the family, spread through nearly the whole household. How often
has sibling love, when it has soared to its most sublime height, and with a
heaven-kindled ambition aimed at the loftiest object which benevolence can
possibly pursue, by seeking the salvation of a brother’s soul, secured its
prize, and received its rich reward.

Young people, whose hearts are under the influence of piety, but whose hearts
also bleed for those, who, though they are the children of the same earthly
parent, are not yet the children of your Father in heaven, I call upon you by
all the love you bear your brothers and sisters; by all the affection you bear
for your parents; by all the higher love you bear to God and Christ; to seek by
every proper means the conversion of those, who, though bound to you by the ties
of nature, are not yet united by the bond of grace. Make it an object with you
to win their souls. Pray for it constantly. Put forth in your own example all
the beauties of holiness. Seek for the most undeviating godly consistency, since
a single lack of this would only strengthen the prejudice you are anxious to
subdue. Let them see your religion in your conscientiousness, your joy, your
humility, your meekness, your love. In all the general duties of life, be more
than ordinarily exact. Win their affections by the kindest and most conciliating
conduct. Avoid all consciousness of superiority. Attempt not to scold them out
of their sins. Avoid the language of reproach. Draw them with the cords of love.
Now and then recommend to their perusal a valuable book. When they are absent
write to them on the subject of religion. But at the same time, do not disgust
them by boring them with religion. Seize favorable opportunities, and wisely
improve them. Point them to eminently happy, consistent, and useful Christians.
Comply with all their wishes that are lawful, but give not up one atom of your
consistency. Pliancy on your part to meet their tastes and pursuits, if they are
contrary to God’s word, will only disgust them; mild firmness will secure their
respect. And crown all with earnest prayer for that grace, without which no
means can be successful. How do you know, but you shall gain your brother? And O
what a conquest! And what shall be said to the unconverted party? Shall such
means be unsuccessful? Will you resist this holy, benevolent influence? Will you
oppose these efforts to draw you to heaven? Will you leave your sister to travel
alone to heaven, and determine to separate from her forever, and pursue your
course to perdition? Will you seek the dreadful, the fatal distinction, of being
alone in your family as the enemy of God, the captive of Satan? Shall a sister’s
solicitude for your salvation, and all the active efforts which it puts forth,
be only a savor of death unto death to you? Pause and ponder, young man! Alter
your purpose—take her by the hand, and say to her, "your affection has
conquered, I will go with you, for I know that God is with you."

But, perhaps, instead of this, you are a persecutor. What! a persecutor of
religion, and of a sister, at the same time? Yes, you reject with scorn these
efforts for your salvation, and treat her with ridicule and unkindness by whom
they are made. Is it so? What! wicked enough for this? What! carry your enmity
to piety so far as to embitter the life of a sister, for no other reason than
because she bows her heart to its influence? Recollect, the contest is not
between you and her--but between you and God. It is not as a sister, but as a
Christian, that she is the object of your displeasure, and therefore your ill
will is against religion, and if against religion, then against God, for
religion is the image of God in the soul of his rational creatures. Did you ever
read or hear that fearful denunciation? if not, read it now—"Woe to him who
contends with his maker." This woe is uttered against every persecutor of
religion, and therefore is against you! The responsibility of elder brothers and
sisters, especially that of the FIRST BORN, is great indeed. They are looked up
to by the younger branches of the family as examples, and their example has
great influence, in some cases greater than that of the parent—it is the example
of one more upon a level with themselves, more near to them, more constantly
before them, than that of the parent, and is on these accounts more influential.
It is of immense consequence, therefore, to their juniors, how these conduct
themselves. If they are bad, they are likely to lead all the rest astray—if
good, they may have great power in leading them aright. They bring companions,
books, recreations, before the others--which are proper or improper according as
their own taste is. It is a most distressing spectacle to see an elder brother
or sister training up younger ones, by his own conduct and precept, in the ways
of wickedness. Such a youth is a dreadful character—like Satan he goes about
seeking whom by his temptations he may destroy; but worse, in some respects,
more wicked and more cruel than his prototype, he marks out his own brother as
the victim of his cruelty, and the dupe of his wiles! Whole families, have in
some cases, been schooled in iniquity by one unprincipled elder son! What will
such a brother have to answer for in the day of judgment, and what will be his
torment in hell, when the souls of those whom he has ruined shall be near him,
and by their ceaseless reproaches become his eternal tormentors! In other cases,
what a blessing to a family has been a steady, virtuous, and pious elder brother
or sister! Many a weak and sickly mother has given daily thanks to God for a
daughter, who by her attentions was a kind of second mother to the younger
members of the family, for whom she did her uttermost to train them up in her
own useful and holy habits. Many a father has felt with equal gratitude the
blessing of having in his firstborn son, not only a help to himself in the cares
of business, but in the work of education; a son who lent all the power of an
amiable and religious example, to form the characters of his younger brothers.

Let such young people consider their responsibility, and at the same time let
those who are their juniors in the family consider their duty. If they have a
good example in their elder brothers and sisters, they should make it not only
the object of attention and admiration, but also of imitation; but on the other
hand, if, unhappily, the conduct of their seniors be bad, let them not follow
them in their evil course; let no threats, no bribes, no persuasions, induce
them to comply with the temptation to do what is wrong.

I have now to allude to the discharge of sibling duties during the whole period
of our lives, after the season of youth has passed away--ADULTHOOD. This has
been anticipated in part already. Families are soon broken up—the parents die,
the children marry and form separate establishments, and bring around them
separate families of their own. This division of the original stock does not
however destroy, although it necessarily must weaken the sibling tie.

Great care is necessary, however, that when the center of sibling charities is
gone, and each child becomes himself a center of similar emotions and impulses,
the interest of brothers and sisters in each other, does not altogether cease.
Brothers and sisters are brothers and sisters still, though they dwell in
different quarters of the globe, are each at the head of families of their own,
are distinguished in their circumstances by the varieties of affluence and
poverty, and have attained to the age of threescore years and ten—and the tie
that unites them ought to be felt coiling round their hearts, and its influence
ought to be seen in producing all those tender offices, which a common
relationship to the same parent, certainly demands. The next generation may,
from various causes, lose their interest in each other. Love for remote
relations, often becomes less and less. Brothers and sisters ought, however, to
keep up, as long as they live, their mutual love. They should not allow new, and
it is confessed, still nearer relations, to produce a total oblivion of, or
alienation from, each other. If dwelling in distant parts of the kingdom,
correspondence should be maintained, sympathy in their mutual joys and sorrows
should be cherished, occasional visits, as opportunity might allow, should be
paid, and everything done by mutual kind offices, to comfort each other, on the
rough and stormy journey of life.

If dwelling together in the same town, their communion should be such as to
constrain spectators to exclaim, "Behold how good and pleasant it is for
brethren to dwell together in unity." There should be that tenderness, which
would lead to all the delicate attentions that affection delights to pay, and at
the same time that confidence, which would prevent offence from being taken. How
utterly disgraceful is it to see brothers and sisters dwelling together in the
same town, yet living in a state of continual strife, and sometimes in an utter
suspension of all friendship. In such cases there must be faults on both sides,
though not perhaps, in equal proportions.

Those who marry into a family should be very cautious not to carry discord into
it. Not infrequently has it happened, that brothers have been embroiled by their
wives, and sisters by their husbands; and they who until they were married,
scarcely ever had an angry word from each other--scarcely ever lived in peace
afterwards. Happy and honorable is that family, which, though it consists of
numerous branches, and those, perhaps, nearly all married, and dwelling in the
same vicinity, maintains not indeed a state of coldness and formal communion, of
which the highest praise is that it is free from strife, but a fellowship of
sympathy, helpfulness and love.

If by the vicissitudes of life, and the various allotments of divine Providence,
one branch of the family has been more successful than the rest, peculiar care
must be exercised, that the latter should not expect too much from him in the
way of attention and relief, nor the former yield too little. For any man to be
ashamed of his poor brothers and sisters, to treat them with cold neglect or
insulting pride, discovers a littleness of mind which deserves contempt, and a
depravity of heart which merits our severest indignation—it is at once
ingratitude to God and cruelty to man.

It must be admitted, however, that it is extremely difficult to meet the
demands, and satisfy the expectations of poor relations, especially in those
cases where their poverty is the fruit of their own indolence or extravagance.
They have claims, it is acknowledged, and a good brother or sister will readily
allow, and cheerfully meet them; but it must be for prudence, under the guidance
of affection, to adjust their amount. It is unquestionable, however, that though
there are some few, who have most imprudently impoverished themselves, to help a
needy, perhaps an undeserving brother or sister; the multitude have erred on the
other side. Men or women of wealth, who choose to live in celibacy, and who have
needy brothers and sisters, are cruel and hard-hearted creatures, if they allow
such relatives to lack anything for their real necessities. "But if one of you
has enough money to live well, and sees a brother or sister in need and refuses
to help—how can God’s love be in that person?" 1 John 3:17. And what shall be
said of those, who, in bequeathing their property, forget their poor relations?
The man who passes over a poor brother or sister and their families, to endow a
hospital, or enrich the funds of a religious society, to which, perhaps, he gave
next to nothing while he lived, offers robbery for a burnt offering.

I have now said all that appears to me to be important on the subject of sibling
duties. Is it necessary to call in the aid of MOTIVES to enforce the discharge
of such obligations? If so,

Let your parents’ comfort be a plea with you. How often have the hearts of such
been half broken by the feuds of their children? And even where the calamity has
not gone to this extent, their cup has been embittered by the wranglings,
quarrels, and perpetual strifes of those who ought to have lived in undisturbed
affection. Your own comfort and honor are involved in an attention to these
duties. You cannot neglect the claims of a brother or a sister, without
suffering a diminishing in your happiness, or your reputation, or both. The
interests of society demand of you an attention to sibling claims. As a son, you
learn to be a good subject, as a brother, you learn to be a good citizen.
Rebellious children are traitors in the bud—and he who has none of the right
feelings of a brother, is training up for a patricide (murder of one’s own
father). And as to religion—sibling duties necessarily arise out of its general
principles, are enforced by its prevailing spirit more than by particular
precepts, and are recommended by some of its most striking examples, for the
first murder which stained the earth with human gore, sprung from a lack of
brotherly affection; and the family in which the Son of God found his loved
retreat on earth, was that, where in the people of Mary, and Martha, and
Lazarus, sibling love was embodied and adorned!


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  CHAPTER 11: 01.09.     DUTIES OF SERVANTS
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Duties of SERVANTS

"Servants, obey your earthly masters with deep respect and fear. Serve them
sincerely as you would serve Christ. Work hard, but not just to please your
masters when they are watching. As servants of Christ, do the will of God with
all your heart. Work with enthusiasm, as though you were working for the Lord
rather than for people. Remember that the Lord will reward each one of us for
the good we do, whether we are slaves or free." Ephesians 6:3-8

God is the Creator of all things, and the disposer of all events. He is,
therefore, the author of all those varieties which are to be found in nature,
and of all those differences which exist in society. He who formed the sun to
illuminate, and to rule, formed also the planets to be enlightened and to be
governed; and he who raises the king to the throne, ordains the allotment of the
servants in the house, and of the laborer in the field. There is no such thing
as chance; no not in the material universe, where each bird which flies, each
insect which crawls, each flower which blooms amid the desert, which man’s eye
never explores—is the separate production of divine power and skill, no less
than the alpine height that lifts its snow-crowned summit to the skies, and
receives the admiring contemplation of millions. Nor is there any such thing as
chance in society; the rank and station of the poor little servant girl in the
humblest dwelling of the most obscure village, are as certainly determined by
God, as the elevation of the conqueror and ruler of nations. "The lot is cast
into the lap, but the disposal thereof is from the Lord." "The rich and the poor
meet together, but the Lord is the disposer of their all;" that is, not simply
their Creator, as men; but the disposer of their circumstances—as rich and poor.
This is comforting, this is reconciling. It prevents the poor from being
degraded in their own eyes, or in the eyes of others. They are not like the
dust, or the dried and withered leaves in autumn, which, amid the more stately
objects of nature and art, are blown about by the gusts which sweep along the
surface. But they are in the place which God intended for them; and God has made
everything beautiful in its place and season. Who could have mended what he has
done? What cause have we to sit down contented, and thankful, in the place which
he has ordained for us! What obligation was he under to give us existence? And
what did he owe to us that he should have made us rational creatures, and not
formed us a beast, or a reptile? "Shall the thing formed, say to him that formed
it—Why have you made me thus?" As God disposes everything, so it is the highest
excellence of a creature, to discharge the duties of his station, and to shine
in the orbit, and move with regularity through the course allotted to him. A
good servant is more honorable than a bad master; and a valuable subject is more
honorable than a worthless prince. He who is not relatively good, is not really
so; while he who acts his part well, is more truly dignified, though his rank be
low, than he who stands on a pinnacle, but fails in the duty of his elevated
station. What is true honor? Not riches, not rank, not beauty, not learning, not
courage. No! But virtue; whether it be clad in the garb of poverty, or the robe
of affluence; whether it holds the plough, or grasps the scepter. VIRTUE IS
HONOR! Let all servants write this sentiment on the heart, and ever act under
its influence, as the living principle of all their conduct. In stating, after
these preliminary remarks, the duties of servants, I would remind them,

First. That there are some duties which they owe TO THEMSELVES, the performance
of which will constitute the best and surest foundation of those which they owe
to others.

1. RELIGION takes the lead of all.

Religion is as much your business, as it is ours. You are immortal creatures,
you are sinners, you are the objects of God’s mercy, in Christ Jesus, and
invited to seek pardon, peace, and eternal life, as well as we your employers.
You have souls that must suffer eternal torments in hell, or enjoy everlasting
happiness in heaven. You must be convinced of sin, repent, confess to God, cry
for mercy, commit your souls into the hands of Christ by faith, be born again of
the Holy Spirit, lead a sober, righteous, and godly life—or you must depart
accursed into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels. God is as
willing to have mercy upon you; Jesus Christ is as ready to receive you as he is
us. Your soul is as precious in the eye of heaven as ours. God is no respecter
of people, and is not to be considered as less friendly to your best interests,
because he has placed you in service. Your situation is no excuse, therefore,
for your neglecting the claims of religion. You are not to imagine that
attention to your soul’s concerns is not required from you. I repeat it, unless
you repent, and are born again, and believe in Christ, you will perish
eternally! Your soul is your first concern, and must not be neglected for
anything. Do not think that it is impossible for a person in your situation to
attend to religion; for it is possible. Great multitudes of servants, both male
and female, are truly pious. I have twenty or thirty in the church under my
care, who are among its most consistent members. I charge you all, to live in
the fear of God. Remember your Creator. Set the Lord always before you. Consider
that he is ever about your path, and that you act, speak, and think in his
presence. He is now the holy and ever present witness—and will hereafter be the
inflexible judge of your actions. In order to cultivate religion, do not seek
employment in wicked families, where the Sabbath is profaned, the claims of
piety despised and rejected, and you can have no opportunity of going to public
worship. Do not dwell in a place where your sabbath is taken away from you; let
no amount of wages tempt you to go to, or to remain in such a situation. Always
stipulate for the privilege of going at least one part of the Lord’s day, to the
house of God. Insist upon it as your right, and allow nothing to deprive you of
it. Endeavor to find a little time for reading the bible, and for prayer. Never
go out of your room in the morning, nor lie down on your pillow at night,
without reading a portion, even though it be a short one, of God’s holy word,
and earnestly praying for his mercy. Let religion be the basis of all your
conduct, the very framework of your character, leading you to practice "whatever
things are true, whatever things are honest, whatever things are just, and pure,
and lovely, and of good report." Do not, then, as you would escape the torments
of hell, do not, as you would be brought at last to the felicities of heaven, DO
NOT NEGLECT YOUR SOULS. "Godliness is profitable for all things, having the
promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to come." Your
situation is a very dangerous one; you are in a very unprotected state and you
need the fear of God to enable you to depart from evil. Men, and women too, of
bad principles, are lying in wait for you, spreading snares for your feet, and
seeking your ruin. Religion will guard you, and guide you, and comfort you; it
will keep you in safety, and raise you to respectability. "Exalt her, and she
shall promote you, she shall lead you to honor when you embrace her."

2. A REGARD TO TRUTH, is another very important duty, and which you will be sure
to perform if you fear God. This duty you owe to your employers also; but while
the discomfort of lying will be felt by them, the more dreadful consequence of
that neglect will be yours.

Lying is a most hateful and wicked practice. And it is said, that "all liars
shall have their portion in the lake that burns with fire." Strive to avoid
everything in your conduct, that needs a lie to hide it; but if you have at any
time done anything wrong, do not make one sin two, by telling a falsehood to
conceal the matter. Let no temptation induce you to violate truth, rather endure
the punishment, or the bitterest wrath of the severest master or mistress, than
strive to avert it by a falsehood. Lying is bad policy, as well as great
wickedness; for, when once detected in this vice, you will ever afterwards be
suspected—even when you tell the truth. A servant, whose word can be implicitly
relied upon, will always be esteemed. Such a virtue will be made to extend a
friendly covering over many little faults. Never allow yourselves to be tempted
by your master or mistress, to commit a breach of truth. Inform them at once,
that they must tell their own falsehoods, for that you cannot do it for them. A
clerk once waited upon me, to ask me what he was to do in a situation, where he
was obliged weekly to make a false written return in his own name, to defraud a
public company, for the benefit of his employer. "Do," said I, with surprise
that the question should have been asked me, "instantly refuse; and rather cast
yourself and your family the next hour upon Providence, than ever repeat the
falsehood." You must not, dare not, lie for others, any more than for
yourselves. If required to adopt the modern practice of saying your mistress is
not at home, when she is at the same time in the house; you dare not comply, for
it is a falsehood, and as such, a sin against God. When you are put by your
employers upon committing any sin, whether it be cheating, calumny, lying, or
anything else forbidden by the scriptures, let your reply be, "How can I do this
great wickedness, and sin against God?"

3. SOBRIETY is a virtue you owe to yourselves, and also to your masters—but, as
in the case of lying, the injury done by intoxication to yourselves, is far
greater than that which you inflict upon them.

Beware of the besetting, impoverishing, debasing sin of drunkenness, and of
everything that leads to it. Household servants, have many opportunities, and
many temptations to practice this vice, if there be any propensity to indulge in
it. It is impossible even for the most rigid watchfulness always to keep out of
their reach the malt liquor, the spirits, and the wine; there are means of
gaining access by stealth to these things, on the part of a vicious and
ingenious servant, which no vigilant mistress can altogether prevent. If we
cannot trust these things to the guardianship of your principles, our locks and
keys will often be found an insufficient security. Do, do consider, that if the
habit of drunkenness be once contracted, it is all over; and most probably you
are ruined for both worlds. Let there be a distinct understanding between you
and your master or mistress, what beverage you are to be allowed, both as to
quality and quantity, and most sacredly abstain from touching a drop more, or a
drop of anything else. Never put the decanters to your lips, when the stoppers
are all out before you. Stolen drams of this kind, are double poison, they are
venom for the body, and damnation for the soul; they lead to two crimes at once,
drunkenness and dishonesty. Beware of the temptation which is presented at those
times, when company is in the house, and when, through the supposition that
extra exertion requires an additional glass, you may be led to take it, to love
it, and to acquire the habit of it. I have known excellent servants, both male
and female, ruined forever by intoxication. As to workmen, the daily servants
that occupy the manufactories, this vice is the damning sin that is spreading
immorality, desolation, and misery through almost the whole laboring classes of
the community. It is distressing, beyond the power of language to describe, to
think of the effects of this most prevalent, most dreadful infatuation. How many
fine, athletic forms are enervated; how many wives are brokenhearted; how many
families are reduced to beggary; how many souls are damned continually, by this
crime! Drunken servants are the torment of almost all our manufacturers, the
curse upon our commerce, and the blight upon our national prosperity.

4. CHASTITY is a duty of infinite importance to the well being of servants.

I am now on delicate ground, and I will endeavor to step with caution—but no
false refinement shall hinder me from discharging a duty, which, as a guardian
of the public morals, I owe to a very large, and a very much exposed class of my
fellow creatures. I will not allow a prudish and effected sentimentalism to turn
away my holy and benevolent concern from the interests of female servants, nor
prevent me from addressing to them the language of warning and admonition. When
the miseries of prostitution are considered, and when the prevalence of this
desolating crime, and all its attendant evils is at once admitted and deplored;
when it is well known, that of the miserable and loathsome victims of seduction
that crowd the paths of vice, a very large proportion were female servants,
betrayed from the ways of virtue, in the first instance, by their masters, or
their masters’ sons, or their fellow servants of the opposite sex, surely it is
the duty of everyone who is specially addressing young women in service, most
solemnly and most pointedly to warn them against the wily arts of the basilisk
seducer, who is enchanting them to their ruin.

Young women, consider the value, even in this world, of your character. With an
unblemished reputation, you are respectable in servitude—your virtue is your
parents’ honest boast, your families’ only renown, and your own wealth and
honor—this will be your passport through the world, your letter of
recommendation to good society, and that which will find you friends, and make
them, and keep them, wherever Providence may cast your lot. But if this be lost,
oh, what a poor, forlorn, withered, wretched creature you become; abandoned by
your seducer, ejected from your place, disowned by your friends, you have the
pains, and the cares, and the labors of a mother, but united with the infamy of
a prostitute; you have to bear from without the scorn of the world, the look and
language of shame-stricken, heart-broken parents, and the ceaseless reproach and
remorse of a guilty conscience from within; and all this, perhaps, but as
preliminary to the misery which the prostitute endures, through her loathsome
course on earth—and its awful termination in hell. Take warning then, and reject
with disdain and virtuous indignation, the very first encroachments that may be
made, by anyone, upon the most delicate modesty and reserve. Have you been
unfortunate enough to draw upon yourself the attention of a master, or a
master’s son, consider, it is with the eye of lust, not of love, that he looks
upon you; he may flatter your vanity by his admiration of your person, but it is
the flattery of a murderer; he cannot mean anything that is honorable; his
passion, that he talks of, is a base, ruffian-like, deliberate purpose to ruin
you. Turn from him, flee from him with more haste than you would from a serpent
or a tiger, for more than a serpent or a tiger is he to be shunned by you. Make
him feel that you are his superior in virtue, though his inferior in rank. If,
on the other hand, you allow him to accomplish his purpose, and decoy you to
perdition, he will in cold-blooded, remorseless cruelty, abandon you and your
child to a workhouse, to a broken heart, and the bottomless pit!

Act in the same determined manner towards everyone else. Preserve not only your
virtue itself, but your modesty, which is its outwork. Allow neither act, nor
word, nor look, in your presence, which is at variance with the most scrupulous
purity. Let no prospect, nor promise of marriage, throw you off your guard. The
man who acts thus, is to be regarded as a traitor, deceiving you into iniquity.
He who would destroy your reputation, will not scruple to falsify his own word;
the vows of such a wretch are not to be trusted. Be careful to whom you give
your company. Let not an concern to leave service, and be your own mistress,
drive you to accept the offer of the first individual, without considering
whether he be suitable or unsuitable, who may present himself to your notice.

5. FRUGALITY is an incumbent duty upon people in your situation.

You are in very dependent circumstances. Your support depends upon your own
labor, and that upon your health. You have no arm but your own to rely upon, and
should therefore feel the obligation of laying up something in the day of
prosperity, against the night of adversity. We are all enjoined to trust
Providence, but not to tempt it. To spend all we get in vanity and useless
trifles, under the idea that we shall be taken care of, in one way or other, is
a presumption that generally brings its own punishment. There is in the present
day, a most censurable propensity in female servants, and workwomen in general,
to dress quite beyond their station. It is not easy, in some cases, to
distinguish between the maid and her mistress. What abject folly is it, for a
young woman to spend all her wages in gay apparel. When she is in ill health and
out of work, will it be any consolation to look upon finery which she is obliged
to pawn, one article after another, for her support? The love of dress has led
in some instances to stealing; in others, to prostitution; in more, to poverty.
Character is respectability, not dress. Harlots are generally fine and gaudy in
their attire. Economize your little property, then; lay up in store for the time
to come. I know several servants who have, one forty, another fifty, another one
hundred pounds in the bank.

Besides, it is desirable to save from unnecessary expense in dress, that you may
have a little to give to the cause of humanity and religion. The mite of the
servant may mingle, in this age, with the pound of the master, to help in
spreading the blessings of Christianity over the face of the earth. And it is to
be poor indeed, to have nothing to give to the cause of humanity or religion.

Secondly. I now lay before you, the duties you owe to YOUR EMPLOYERS.

1. HONOR them, for they are your superiors in station. Pay them the respect
which is due to them; and in order to this, cherish for them a proper respect in
your heart. "Let as many servants as are under the yoke," said the apostle,
"count their own masters worthy of all honor." Behave towards them with all
proper humility and submission—not that you are to crouch and tremble before
them, like slaves at the foot of a tyrant. Your address to them must be
respectful—not crude, boisterous, and impertinent. In talking of them to others,
in their absence, there should be no calling them names, no exposure of their
faults, no ridiculing their infirmities. On the contrary, you should, to the
utmost of your power, as far as truth will allow, defend them against the
attacks of slander, and the arts of detraction.

If at any time, they speak to you with tones of anger, and in language of
rebuke, you must remember the apostle’s injunction, and "not answer again." You
may mildly and meekly explain, and sometimes expostulate, but you must not reply
in an angry and impertinent manner. Should they so far forget their duty, as to
let down their dignity, and be too familiar, do not forget your place, but
respectfully keep your proper distance. Everything crude in conduct, and
obtrusive, insolent or familiar in language, must, therefore, be most sedulously
avoided, as an essential part of servants’ conduct towards their employers.

2. OBEDIENCE is founded upon respect, and is a necessary part of it. Observe the
directions of the apostle Paul—"Servants, obey in all things your masters." We
are of course to except those things which are contrary to the word of God; for
if they enjoin anything that is manifestly sinful, you must mildly, but firmly,
refuse to comply, and be prepared to take all the consequences of your
disobedience. In all other matters, however self-denying or difficult, however
contrary to your own views and wishes, you must submit; you are not to choose
your commands, but in all things to obey.

You are to obey "with fear and trembling," that is, with reverential regard for
their authority, a dread of their displeasure, and also, which is probably the
apostle’s meaning, with a dread of the anger of God, who, having enjoined
obedience, will punish the disobedient.

You are to obey in "singleness of heart," that is, with a willing and cheerful
mind; and not with a mere compulsory outside show of submission, and are to be
free from all selfish personal ends, and obey from the single consideration,
that it is right.

You are to do this, "as unto Christ, as the servants of Christ, doing the will
of God from the heart, with good will, doing service as to the Lord, and not to
men." You must consider that God commands it, and therefore you are to obey
them, as obeying God; they are in God’s stead, in this particular, to you; and
from a regard to conscience, and a respect to the divine authority, you are to
do what they enjoin. "I do this," you are to say, "in reference to obedience,
"not merely to please my master and my mistress, but to please God." This is
turning all you do into religion. It signifies nothing, what is the nature of
the thing, whether it be an act of the most menial kind, in the kitchen, the
parlour, or the garden, if it be done with a view to the divine command, that
very aim elevates the humble service into an expression of piety towards God,
and a service that will be remembered in the day of judgment.

You are not to obey, "with eye service, as men pleasers." How many are there,
who need a master’s eye always upon them, to keep them industrious. No sooner is
his back turned, than they are indolent and neglectful. This conduct is as vile
as it is wicked—it is detestable hypocrisy, flagrant injustice, and obvious
wickedness—for is it nothing that the eye of God is upon you? Is he not there?
Does he not disapprove this conduct? And is it a small matter to make light of
his presence? Such servants will shortly find, to their fearful cost, that the
eye of God is far more to be dreaded, than the eye of the severest master.

Let it be your delight to do the will of your employers. Strive to please them
in all things, and feel anxious to draw from them this testimony—"There is a
servant, to whom no command, which it is in her power to obey, comes unwelcome;
who never need be told a second time to do a thing; who anticipates my orders;
and whose very pleasure seems to arise from pleasing me."

3. GOOD TEMPER, is of great consequence.

There are some servants who, let their work come unexpectedly, and even
oppressively, receive all with a cheerful acquiescence, and are never put out of
their way. Their mistresses are never afraid of telling them of unlooked for
company having arrived, and extra exertion being necessary. While there are
others, who, with many valuable qualities, are withal so peevish, so soon put
out of temper, so cross at any little unexpected addition being made to their
work, that their mistresses are in constant bondage. I like not to hear it said,
"She is a very good servant, and has many excellent properties, but her temper
is so bad, that I am quite afraid to point out to her, in ever so gentle a
manner, the least imperfection, or to put her in the smallest degree out of her
way." This is a serious blemish upon any excellence, and often proves a very
great interruption to the comfort of the family, but a still greater
interruption to the comfort of the poor waspish creature herself. Temper is not
everything, but it is very important. Study, therefore, to be obliging, and to
avoid crossness, sullenness, and passion.

4. FIDELITY is a duty of the highest rank.

What a delightful testimony is that which our Lord Jesus Christ is represented
as bearing to his people at the last day—"Well done, good and FAITHFUL servant."
Such also is the testimony, which it should be in our power to bear to our
servants. Fidelity has reference—To the PROPERTY of your masters.

Faithful servants will not STEAL the property of their masters. There are
opportunities of this everywhere if you choose to avail yourselves of them.
Consider the horrible disgrace of being called a thief; and add to this, the
danger in the present world—and the punishment of such a crime in the next.
Write the eighth commandment upon your heart, and when tempted by a favorable
opportunity to embezzle the property of your employer, let a voice more awful
than thunder, repeat in your ears the prohibition, "You shall not steal." At
that perilous moment in your history, let your imagination look up, and behold
the flaming eye of God intently gazing upon you. In whatever profusion, money,
plate, jewelry, lace, may be spread out before you—touch not, covet not!
Determine, by God’s grace, that though you be ever so poor, you will, at least,
be honest.

Honesty is indeed the best policy, to go no higher for a motive and
commendation. A single act of stealing may blast your reputation forever—even to
be suspected, is dreadful—but what inestimable value is attached to a servant of
tested honesty. Be honest even to scrupulosity. Touch nothing in the house in
the way of eatables or drinkables, which you do not consider as belonging to
you. If you want to taste the luxuries of the larder, ask for them; but do not
appropriate to yourself what you think would be denied. I have read of a servant
who went into the pantry, only to make free with sweetmeats, but seeing some
articles of silver lying about, he took these, and went on from one degree of
theft to another, until he died at the gallows. He was under the influence of a
thievish disposition when he saw the silver, for he was going to take what he
had no right to, and he was in a favorable state of mind to be tempted by Satan
to a greater crime.

Servants should not allow themselves to appropriate any refuse articles of
dress, nor give away the extra food, or other articles of the kitchen, without
permission. Habits begin in acts; little sins lead on to greater ones. She that
commences by taking a sweet, knowing that she is not allowed it, has violated so
far, her integrity; has done something to benumb her conscience, and has taken
the first step towards confirmed dishonesty. Sin is deceitful; and the way of a
sinner is like the course of a ball down hill. Servants, beware of the first act
of sin! But fidelity, in reference to property, requires not only that you
should not embezzle your master’s property, but that you should not WASTE it.
Those who carelessly waste, are almost as guilty as those who wilfully steal.
You cannot be an honest servant, unless you are as careful of your employer’s
property—as if it were your own. Furniture, goods, provisions, must all be thus
preserved. You are not to say, "My master is rich, he can spare it, and we need
not be so niggardly." His wealth is no concern to you; if he chooses to waste
it, he has a legal right to do so—but you have none. Nor is this all; for
fidelity requires that servants should do all they can to make their employers’
affairs prosper. They should grieve over their master’s losses, rejoice in his
success, and so identify their feelings with his interests, as to seem as if
their fortune were bound up with his. We have a fine instance of this, in the
case of Joseph while he was in the house of Potiphar.

Fidelity would also lead them to give their employers information and warning
when their affairs are going wrong, either through their own neglect or
ignorance, or through the injurious conduct of others. They cannot be honest, if
they witness in silence any fraud practiced upon them, either by their fellow
servants, or by friends or strangers. Such connivance is a participation of the
crime, although it should not be rewarded by any participation of the profits. A
proper feeling of concern for your master’s welfare would certainly lead you, if
he were flagrantly neglectful of his affairs, to suggest to him, in a respectful
manner, your apprehension of the consequences.

What man, except a fool or a madman, would be offended by such an appeal as the
following, made to him by a servant—"Pardon me, sir, if I take the liberty of
expressing my fears on the subject of your business, which I am induced to do,
by a sense of my own duty, and a true love to your welfare. Your business is
certainly declining, and I fear, through your being so frequently absent from
it. Customers are offended by not meeting with the principal in the shop, and by
finding the stock so low and ill assorted. I am so concerned for your family,
and so distressed at the idea of your doing otherwise than well, that at the
risk of incurring your displeasure, which I entreat you not to indulge against
me, for this self-denying act of faithful service, I have determined to lay the
matter before you, and to beg you to give up your leisure, to look into your
accounts, and to attend more closely to your business." A servant that would do
this, and in this manner, is fidelity embodied, and is a treasure beyond all
price. But faithfulness has a reference also to a master’s time, for in many
instances, time is property, and servants may as effectually rob their masters
by idleness, as by stealing. This is always the case where they are hired by the
day; and indeed, where, as in many branches of manufacture, they are paid by the
piece, if by their idleness they prevent their employers from executing orders,
and realizing profits, they can be scarcely called faithful. When you take a
job, there should be an explicit understanding, as I have already said, how much
time you are to render for the stipulated wages, and when this is known, all
that by indolence you keep back, is just so much of your employer’s property
stolen from him.

Faithfulness has regard to the reputation of your master and mistress. You have
their character in your hands, and by calumny and falsehood, may, if such a
malicious disposition were in your heart, do them considerable harm, either by
stating what is absolutely false, misrepresenting what is true, magnifying what
is little, or exaggerating what is insignificant. Remember, it is the utmost
excess of base conduct, and the wickedest kind of dishonesty, to attempt to rob
them of their good name.

Then there are also secrets which it would be a very unfaithful act in you to
disclose. Workmen, clerks, and apprentices, are guilty of great impropriety, if
they communicate the private arts of their master’s business, or lay open his
relationships to anyone. Such an act is, by common opinion, an instance of
criminal treachery. Female servants ought not to tell to others, what they see
and hear in the families where they are placed. It is to be apprehended, that
much of the gossip, and many of the reports, which circulate so much slander and
detraction through society, are to be traced up to this source. You are not
forbidden to form friendships with your fellow servants in other families—but to
meet merely for the purpose of exchanging gossip from the respective households
in which you live, is highly censurable. You should maintain the strictest
silence on these affairs, and not allow the most busy and inquisitive curiosity
of others, to draw anything from you. Nor are you to tell these matters, as is
often done, to one particular friend; for she may tell them to one more, until
at length the affairs of the family are matter of public notoriety. Your
admission into a family is attended with an implied condition—that you are to
keep all its secrets.

5. DILIGENCE is another duty, but is so necessarily connected with honesty, and
indeed, so essentially a part of it, that much need not be said, in addition, to
illustrate and enforce it. The slothful servant is a wicked one, for, in some
instances, more mischief may be done by a day’s idleness—than others may be able
to undo by a year’s exertion. The habits of a sluggard are very unfriendly to
your own reputation, and to the comfort of the family by whom you are employed.
Early rising is absolutely indispensable, if in addition to the duties of your
station, you would attend to the salvation of your soul. And will you not
sacrifice half an hour’s sleep, for the purpose of seeking glory, honor,
immortality, and eternal life? Diligence is opposed to sauntering, inactive, and
gossiping habits; to a slow, reluctant, grudging, way of doing your work. A
disposition to stint your labor, to do as little as you possibly can, and to do
that little, in a careless, unneat, half-finished manner, is a great blemish in
your character, and will be sure to militate against your interest.

6. GRATITUDE for kindness shown you, is very incumbent.

You ought to be thankful for having your faults pointed out, and not resentful,
as too many are, towards those who are kind enough to show them what is wrong.
If you have received kind attentions in sickness, and have discovered a constant
solicitude on the part of your employers to soften as much as possible your
labor, and to render you comfortable in your situation, you should convince them
that their attentions are not thrown away upon one, who is insensible to their
kindness. Especially, if they have taken pains to promote your interests, by
warning you against bad company, or by endeavoring to correct your bad
practices, you should be grateful for their pains, and endeavor to comply with
their advice.

7. In all such cases as those mentioned, where your masters and mistresses are
your friends, and confer obligations by their kindness, you should be truly and
cordially ATTACHED to them. Where there is really nothing to produce attachment,
you cannot be expected to feel any. You cannot be required to feel gratitude,
where you have received no favors; nor to cherish affection, where you have met
with no indulgence. But all masters and mistresses are not tyrants, as some of
you know by experience; for you have found in them, something, at least, of the
kindness of a second father and mother. Here there are certainly strong claims
upon your affection, and as they have cared for you with the kindness of
parents—you should serve them with the deep interest and devoted attachment of
children. They have a right to expect, in such instances, that as they have
studied your comfort, you should study theirs; that when sickness invades their
frame or their family, you will minister at the sick bed, by night or by day,
not grudging your ease or your sleep, so that you might do them good; that when
losses diminish their property or comforts, you will most tenderly sympathize
with them, mingling your tears with theirs, and be willing to share with them
the reduction of their usual plenty and gratification; that, in short, in all
their afflictions, you will be afflicted with them, and be the sharers of all
their joys.

They did not, and they could not bargain with you for such a duty as this;
affection cannot be made an article of money contract; it must be given, or it
is worth nothing, and indeed—bought and sold it cannot be. Instances of a
generous affection of this kind, we have perhaps all known; instances of
servants so attached to their masters and mistresses, as to follow them, and
remain in their service through all the vicissitudes of fortune; as to descend
with them from the lofty eminence and luxurious gratifications of prosperity,
down into the lowly and desolate, and barren valley of poverty, there to suffer
need with them; as to leave their native land, and cross the seas, and dwell in
a foreign country with them; as even to find in their love for their master and
mistress, a principle and a feeling, that reconciled them to all the sufferings
they endured on their account.

I know a servant, who, when her master failed in business, brought down her
little hoard of savings, amounting to nearly thirty pounds, and entreated him
with tears to accept and apply it for the relief of his family. "Sir," said a
lady to a minister who called upon her in sickness, "that girl," alluding to her
servant, "who has just left the room, is a greater comfort to me than I can
express. She watches me with the affection of a daughter, and the care of a
nurse. When my complaints make me peevish, she contrives something to soothe me.
I often observe her taking pains to discover what would add to my comfort, and
often am presented with the thing I wish for, before I express it in words. I
live without suspicion, for I perceive her to be conscientious, even to
scrupulosity; my chief complaint is, that she takes so much care of me, that I
cannot make her take sufficient care of herself."

Servants, look at this character, admire it, imitate it.

THIRDLY. There are duties which servants in the same family owe TO EACH OTHER.

There ought to be no tyranny nor oppression exercised by one over the other.
This is often the case in those families which employ a numerous retinue of
servants, and which admit the distinction of superior and inferior servants.
There is sometimes in such households, a system of great cruelty carried on
altogether unknown to the master. Some poor creatures are degraded into the
condition of a slave to the other servants, and drag on a miserable existence
under the heavy yoke which has been imposed upon them, by an unfeeling minion,
who stands before the master’s eye, and has always his ear at command.

Strive to agree with each other, for families are often disturbed by the
quarrels of the servants, and the uproar in the kitchen is distinctly heard by
the guests in the parlour. You should bear with one another’s infirmities, and
never take delight in thwarting each other. Instead of finding pleasure in
converting the infirmities of anyone into a means of annoyance, and a source of
vexation to her, carefully avoid whatever, by appealing to these imperfections,
or bringing them into notice, would render the subject of them irritable or
sullen. Never tease one another, which is too often done, especially where an
individual is known to be petulant. The worst consequences have sometimes arisen
from this practice. A few days ago, I saw an individual put to the court of his
country, upon an indictment for manslaughter, under the following
circumstances.—His fellow servants, aware of his petulant disposition, provoked
him by some petty vexations, until, in his rage, he hurled hammer at them, which
struck one of them in the head, and inflicted a wound of which he died.

Never bear tales to your employers, for the purpose of exciting a prejudice
against each other, and ingratiating yourselves in their favor. A supplanter is
a most hateful character, at once despicable and despised. At the same time, you
are not to connive at sin; if your fellow servants do anything wrong, either in
the way of drunkenness, lewdness, or dishonesty, you owe it to your master to
make him acquainted with the fact. You are dishonest if you conceal the
dishonesty of others, and you are a partaker of those vices which you allow to
be perpetrated under your notice, without making it known.

Servants that make a profession of religion have great need to conduct
themselves with singular propriety. Towards their masters and mistresses there
should be the deepest humility, and the very reverse of everything that bears
even a distant resemblance of spiritual pride. There must be no consciousness of
superiority, no air of importance, no affected sanctity; but a meek, modest,
unobtrusive exhibition of the influence of religion, in making them strictly
conscientious and exemplary in the discharge of all the duties of their station.
Their piety should be seen, not only in a constant concern to attend to the
public means of grace, and in a regular performance of the private duties of
religion, but also in making them more respectful and obedient; more meek and
submissive; more honest and diligent than all the rest. That servant does not
adorn the doctrine of God her Savior in all things, who does not shine in her
sphere as a servant.

There are occasions when you may seek to do good to those who employ you, if
they are yet living without the possession of piety. Instances have occurred, in
which, such as you have been the instruments of converting their employers—and a
visible, but unostentatious exhibition of eminent and consistent piety,
supported by as eminent a discharge of the duties of your station, followed by a
modest and judicious introduction of the subject, when suitable occasion
presents itself, may by the grace of God, be blessed for the salvation of even
your master and mistress.

If, on the other hand, your profession of religion be not supported by
consistency; if it renders you proud and conceited; if it be accompanied by an
unsubdued temper, or by habits of inattention to the duties of your place; if it
makes you troublesome about your religious privileges, so that in a time of
emergency or sickness, you will not give up a single sermon without murmuring
and sullenness, you do not glorify God, but dishonor him; you excite a prejudice
against religion, rather than produce a prepossession in its favor.

Towards your fellow servants you should be meek, obliging, and generous;
assuming nothing on the ground of your piety, never disgusting them by any
apparent consciousness of superior sanctity, but at the same time, never
scrupling to let them know and see that you fear God. Timidly to conceal your
regards to the claims of religion, or vauntingly to acknowledge them, would
equally excite a bad prejudice; but to yield to them with a firmness that
ridicule and opposition cannot bend, a consistency that scrutiny cannot impeach,
and a humility that the reproached conscience of those who are offended cannot
misrepresent, will be sure to raise admiration, and, by the blessing of God, may
produce imitation. Are any of your fellow servants living in the neglect of
religion, it is your duty, in a solemn and affectionate manner, to warn them. "I
knew a religious servant," says Mr. Janeway, "that after other endeavors for the
conversion of one of his fellows had proved ineffectual, spent some time at
midnight to pray for him; and being very importunate, his voice was heard in the
next chamber, where the object of his pious solicitude lay; who, on hearing the
voice of entreaty, arose from bed to listen, and was so struck with the
affectionate concern that was breathed out for him, that he was converted by the
prayer."

Let me now, in conclusion, exhort you to attend to the duties which have been
set before you. It may be felt as a motive to this, to consider, that though you
are servants, you are not slaves, as was the case with those who are addressed
by the apostles, in their inspired writings. Yes, they were slaves, and yet are
they admonished to give honor and service to those who held them by a tie they
could not break. You are free, and your labor is voluntary; you sell it for a
stipulated price, and are not degraded by your situation—nothing can degrade you
but bad conduct. Your interest lies in the faithful discharge of your duties.
This will secure to you peace and serenity of mind, the respect and attachment
of your employers, the esteem of the public, the testimony of conscience, and
the approbation of God. You will thus help to diffuse happiness through the
families in which you reside; for a good servant is one of the springs of family
comfort, and daily refreshes, by its pure and pleasant stream, the members of
the little community in the house; who, in return, will do what they can to
promote your present comfort, and provide for your future support, when the days
of sickness and the years of old age shall come upon you.

Remember that God is everywhere, and his eye is always upon you. "He encompasses
your path, and knows your down-sitting and uprising, and there is not a word
upon your tongue, but he knows it altogether." You may have an absent master,
but you cannot have an absent God. And he cites your conscience to his side, to
take a correct copy, and lodge it in your bosom, of the record of your actions,
words, and feelings, which he writes down in the book of his remembrance.

Time is short, life is uncertain, death is at hand, and the judgment
approaching, when it will be of no consequence who was master and who was
servant—but only who was holy and faithful. God is now your witness, and will be
hereafter your judge. Have the promises and threatenings of the Great Master
little efficacy? Are heaven, glory, and eternal happiness worth nothing? If so,
what do you think of condemnation, wrath, and everlasting misery? If the former
signifies little, do the latter signify no more? Then I must confess, I know not
what further to say, for I have exhausted the differences of time, and the
varieties of eternity. I have spread out the miseries which sin brings, and the
pleasure which holiness produces upon earth; and have added to this the
consideration of the eternal torment which iniquity draws upon itself in hell,
aid the everlasting felicity which religion conducts the soul to enjoy in
heaven—what more can I add—but simply to say, choose whether to you it shall be
said in the last day, by the Lord Jesus Christ, "You wicked and slothful
servant, depart accursed from me into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil
and his angels!" Or, "well done, you good and faithful servant, enter into the
joy of your Lord!"


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  CHAPTER 12: 02.00. AN EARNEST MINISTRY—THE NEED OF THE TIMES
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AN EARNEST MINISTRY— The Need of the Times

by John Angell James, 1847 APOSTOLIC Ministry NATURE of Earnestness Earnestness
in PREACHING ILLUSTRATIONS of Earnestness Earnestness in the Delivery of Sermons
Earnestness in the PASTORATE EXAMPLES of Earnestness MOTIVES to Earnestness
MEANS of Obtaining Earnestness Necessity of DIVINE INFLUENCE


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  CHAPTER 13: 02.01.     THE APOSTOLIC MINISTRY
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THE APOSTOLIC MINISTRY

"Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we
implore you in Christ’s stead--be reconciled to God." 2 Corinthians 5:20 In this
truly wonderful passage, viewed in connection with its context, are set before
us with beautiful simplicity, yet with surpassing grandeur--the theme, the
design, and the method, of the Christian ministry. The theme is God reconciling
the world to himself; a subject compared with which the negotiations of hostile
nations and the treaties which put an end to the horrors of war, and bind in
concord the fiercest passions of humanity, are matters of only momentary and
limited importance. The design of the ministry, which is strictly in harmony
with its theme, is to bring sinful men into actual reconciliation with God, on
the ground of that system of mediation through Christ which God himself has
devised and proclaimed. And its method is the earnestness of persuasion
addressed to the rebel heart of man, in order to induce him to lay aside his
enmity against his offended Sovereign, and to accept this offer of a gracious
amnesty. The union and the harmony of these three views of the ministry are
singularly impressive—he who leaves out the great scheme of Christian
reconciliation from his habitual ministrations, omits the divinely appointed
theme; he who does not supremely aim to bring sinners into a state of actual
friendship with God, falls short of the design of the sacred office; and he who
does not employ for the purpose all the arts and means of persuasion, mistakes
or undervalues the divinely prescribed method of fulfilling its duties. As the
apostle is writing to a Christian church, it is perhaps a matter of surprise to
some that he should entreat them to be reconciled to God, since by their very
profession of religion they must have been supposed to be already in that state.
Upon looking attentively at the passage as it stands in the Bible, the reader
will perceive that the pronouns of the second person are in italics, intimating
that they are not in the original Greek, but are supplied in our English
translation to complete the sense; consequently any other word that would
accomplish this better may be substituted for them. If therefore we put the
substantive "men," instead of the pronoun "you" in the first clause of the
verse, and the pronoun of the third person "them" for the pronoun of the second
person "you" in the latter clause, we shall avoid the improbability of the
apostle calling upon professing Christians to come into a state to which they
must be supposed to have already attained, and the text will then show what he
intended to set forth, the usual manner in which he discharged the functions of
his momentous office. With this alteration it would read thus, "As ambassadors
for Christ, as though God did beseech ’men’ by us, we implore ’them’ in Christ’s
stead to be reconciled to God." It is as if he had said, "wherever we go, we
find men in unprovoked hostility, inveterate enmity, and mad rebellion, against
God’s holy nature, law, and government—we carry with us, as his ambassadors, the
proclamation of mercy through the mediation of our Lord Jesus Christ—we tell
them that we are appointed by God whom they have offended, and who could
overwhelm them with the terrors of his justice, to call upon them to lay down
their arms and accept the offer of eternal pardon and peace—but we find them
every where so bent upon their sins, and the enjoyment of their worldly
occupations and possessions, that we are compelled to use the language of the
most vehement entreaty, and to beseech and implore them in God’s name, and in
Christ’s stead, to come into a state of reconciliation." The apostle not only
used the most intense earnestness of entreaty, as an expression of his own
concern, but he told the objects of his imploring anxiety that his importunity
for their welfare was but an imitation of, and a substitute for, that of God
himself; that his beseeching solicitation to them, on behalf of their own
salvation, was uttered in Christ’s stead. This is the most wonderful scene that
the universe will ever witness; a beseeching God, an imploring Savior, standing
at the door of the sinner’s heart with eternal salvation in his hand, knocking
for entrance and begging to be let in; the insulted Omnipotent Creator of the
universe, beseeching a worm, whom an exercise of his will could sink in a moment
to perdition, and his justice be glorified in the act, to accept his pardoning
mercy, and waiting year after year, in all patience, for the sinner’s
reconsideration of his obstinate refusals. Be astonished, O heaven, at God’s
unutterable mercy, and be horribly afraid, O earth, at man’s indescribable
wickedness! Here is the climax of God’s divine love, and man’s desperate
depravity. Divine benevolence did not reach its uttermost when Jesus Christ was
nailed to the cross; that was reserved for the scene before us.

I might with ineffable delight expatiate at length on this scene of matchless
mercy, but let me pass on to other applications of the passage appropriate to
the subject before us. And what a view does it give us of the Christian
ministry! It is an embassy from GOD to man, and therefore most dignified and
honorable. I admit that it is only in a qualified sense that the title and
office of an "ambassador" for Christ can be applied to the ordinary ministers of
the gospel; but in a subordinate sense it may be applied to them, since they are
ordained to do what he would do were he personally present; they are to propose
the same blessings, to lay down the same terms of peace, as he would were he
again on earth; and therefore are, so far, his ambassadors. And if the honor of
an ambassador be in proportion to the power and glory of the sovereign who
employs him, what is the dignity of him who is the ambassador of the King of
Kings and Lord of Lords! And at the same time, what ought to be the sanctity of
his conduct, and the elevation of his character? If nothing unworthy of the
monarch who sends him, and the nation which he represents, should be done by him
who is despatched on an embassy to a foreign court and people, how vigilant and
solicitous to do nothing unworthy of God and his Christ, should he be whose
business it is to negotiate with man, the weighty affairs of judgment and of
mercy from heaven! If he bears the dignity of his office, let him associate with
it a corresponding dignity of character. How natural, how just, how necessary,
the reflection, "I am an ambassador for Christ; what kind of person ought I to
be in all holy conversation and godliness; what should I be who represent, so
far as my office is concerned, the majesty of heaven and earth!" The ministry of
the gospel is shown in this passage to be an embassy of PEACE—this is its very
designation, "the ministry of reconciliation." Never was a more beautiful idea
expressed or conceived—nothing could be devised to throw over the ministry the
charm of greater loveliness. If in one hand the preacher of the gospel carry the
sword of the Spirit, it is only to slay the sin; while he holds forth the olive
branch in the other, as the token of peace and life to the sinner. He enters the
scene of strife and discord to harmonize the jarring elements, and goes to the
field of conflict to reconcile the contending parties. It is his to proclaim the
treaty of man’s peace with God, to explain its terms, to urge its acceptance,
and to bring the sinner into friendship with his offended lawgiver; to carry
peace into man’s troubled bosom, and reconcile him to his own conscience; to
cast out the enmity and prejudices of his selfish and depraved heart, and to
unite him by love to his fellows; to calm down the violence of his temper, and
give him peace on earth, and at last to conduct him to the realms of undisturbed
tranquility in the celestial world. This is the minister’s business! Angels
hover over him in his course, and chant over his labors their ancient song,
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men;"
redeemed men and women, saved by his instrumentality from the wrath of God, and
the turbulence of passion, hail him in the language of the prophet, "How
beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him that brings good tidings, that
publishes peace;" while the Savior himself pronounces upon him the beatitude,
"Blessed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children of God."
Honored and happy man, minister of reconciliation, friend and promoter of peace,
the world knows you not, because it knew not Christ; nor, perhaps, does even the
church duly appreciate, or adequately reward, your services; but even now your
work is its own reward—peace attends upon your steps, and blessings spring up in
your path. But still it is an embassy of DIFFICULTY. It is to deal with those
who are unwilling to be saved, and to persuade the sinful, proud, and stubborn
hearts of men, to surrender to holiness and grace. The minister carries the
offer of infinite and ineffable blessedness, but it is to men who have no taste
for that species of felicity. His were an easy office did he find men every
where predisposed to close with the proposals of infinite benevolence; but
wherever he goes he meets with hearts not only indifferent, but hostile, to his
message. The parable which represents the excuses made for not coming to the
marriage feast, is still applicable to the children of men in reference to the
invitations of the gospel—men are as they ever were, too busy, or too well
satisfied with their enjoyments and possessions, to care about salvation. They
are madly set upon the objects of the present world; they are asleep, and need
to be roused; careless, and need to be interested; indolent, and need to be
stimulated; and it is with the greatest difficulty we can engage their attention
to the invisible realities of eternity. No one who leaves out of view the
desperate wickedness of the human heart, can form a true estimate of the nature,
design, and difficulties of the pastoral office—and the reason why there is so
little of hard labor, and intense earnestness, and beseeching entreaty, in the
ministers of the gospel, is, that there is the lack of a deep conviction, or
proper consideration, of the resistance to their endeavors in the sinner’s
heart, which is perpetually meeting them. This brings me to the subject of the
present discourse, and that is the NECESSITY of an earnest ministry. Nothing
less than earnestness can succeed in any cases of great difficulty, and the
earnestness must of course be in proportion to the difficulty to be surmounted.
Great obstacles cannot be overcome without intense application of the mind. How
then can the work of the ministry be accomplished? Every view we can take of it
replies, "Only by earnestness." Every syllable of the apostle’s language
replies, "Only by earnestness." Every survey we can take of human nature
replies, "Only by earnestness." Every recollection of our own experience, as
well as every observation we can make of the experience of others, replies,
"Only by earnestness." This, this is what we need, and must have, if the ends of
the gospel are ever to be extensively accomplished--an earnest ministry.

We have heard much of late about a learned ministry, and God forbid we should
ever be afflicted by so great an evil as an unlearned one. We have been often
reminded of the necessity of an educated ministry; and in this case, as in every
other, men must be educated for their vocation; but then, that education must be
strictly appropriate and specific. We are very properly told from many quarters,
we can do nothing without a godly ministry. This is very true, nor can any truth
bearing upon this subject be more momentous; for of all the curses which God
ever pours from the vials of his wrath upon a nation which he intends to
scourge, there is not one so fearful as giving them up to an unholy ministry.
And I trust our churches will ever consider piety as the first and most
essential qualification in their pastors, for which talents, genius, learning,
and eloquence, would and could be no substitutes. It will be a dark and evil day
when personal godliness shall be considered as secondary to any other quality in
those who serve at the altar of God. But still there is something else needed in
addition to natural talent, to academic training, and even to the most fervent
evangelical piety, and that is, intense devotedness. This is the one thing, more
than any or all other things, that is lacking in the modern pulpit, and that has
been lacking in most ages of the Christian church. The following sentence occurs
in a valuable article in a late number of the British Quarterly Review—"No
ministry will be really effective, whatever may be its education, which is not a
ministry of strong faith, true spirituality, and deep earnestness." I wish this
golden sentence could be inscribed in characters of light over every professor’s
chair, over every student’s desk, and over every preacher’s pulpit. Condensed
into that one short paragraph is everything that needs be said on this subject.
I feel that every syllable I have to write would be superfluous, if all our
pastors, students, and tutors, would let that one sentence take full occupation
of their hearts, possess their whole souls, and regulate their conduct. The most
I can hope to accomplish is to expand and enforce it.


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  CHAPTER 14: 02.02.     THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS
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THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS

Perhaps there is scarcely one single phrase more frequently employed, or better
understood, in the sphere of human activity, than this, "Be in earnest." What
distinctness of aim, what fixedness of purpose, what resoluteness of will, what
diligence, patience, and perseverance in action, are implied or expressed in
these three words. He who would stimulate exertion, quicken activity, and
inspire hope; he who would breathe his own spirit into the soul of another, and
excite there the enthusiasm which glows in his own bosom, says to his fellow,
"Be in earnest!" and that short sentence, a scintillation flying off from a
burning mind, has often in lighting upon another spirit, kindled the flames of
enthusiasm in it also. And what else, or what less, does Jesus Christ say to
every one whom he sends into the work of the Christian ministry than, "Be in
earnest!"

There is something in the aspect and power of earnestness, whatever be its
object, that is impressive and commanding. A man who has selected some one
object of pursuit, and then yielded up himself to the desire of its attainment,
with a devotion admitting of no reserve, a steadiness of aim allowing of no
diversion, a diligence consenting neither to rest nor intermission; and who ever
retains this purpose so far uppermost in his heart as to fill his conversation,
and so entirely and constantly before his mind as to throw into its broad shadow
every other subject of consideration; such an instance of decision, amounting to
a ruling passion, gains a strange fascination over the feelings of others, and
exerts over us, while witnessing it, an influence which we feel to be
contagious. We involuntarily sympathize with a man who is thus carried away by
his fervor; and if all his earnestness is for the promotion of our interests—its
effect is irresistible. That man must be a stone, and destitute of the ordinary
feelings of humanity, who can see another, interested, active, and zealous for
his welfare, while he himself remains inert and indifferent. Even the apathetic
and indolent have been kindled into ardor, and led to make efforts for
themselves, by solicitude manifested by others for their welfare.

How strictly does this apply to the ministry of God’s word, which relates to the
most momentous matters that can engage the attention of the human understanding.
Sympathy is a law of our mental being which has never been sufficiently taken
into account in estimating the influences which God employs for the salvation of
men. There is a silent and almost unconscious process often going on in the
minds of those who are listening to the sermons of a preacher really laboring
for the conversion of souls. "Is he so earnest about my salvation—and shall I
care nothing about the matter? Is my eternal happiness so much in his
account—and shall it be nothing in mine? I can meet ’cold logic’ with counter
arguments; or at any rate, I can raise up objections against evidence. I can
smile at the ’artifices of rhetoric’, and be merely pleased with the displays of
eloquence. I can sit unmoved under sermons which seem intended by the preacher
to raise my estimate of himself—but I cannot withstand his earnestness about
myself. The man is evidently intent upon saving my soul. I feel the grasp of his
hand upon my arm, as if he would pluck me out of the fire. He has not only made
me think, but he has made me feel. His earnestness has subdued me." But it will
be necessary now to meet and answer the question, What is meant by an earnest
ministry?

I. In the first place then, earnestness implies, the selection of some ONE
object of special pursuit, and a vivid perception of its value and importance.
It is next to impossible for the mind to be intently employed, or the heart to
be very deeply engaged, on a multiplicity of objects at once. We have not energy
enough to be so divided and distributed. Our feelings to run with force must
flow pretty much in one channel—our attention must be concentrated, our purpose
settled, our energy exerted, upon one thing, or we can do nothing effectually.
The earnest man is a man of one idea, and that one idea occupies, possesses, and
fills his soul. To every other claimant upon his time, and interest, and labor,
he says, "Stand aside! I am engaged, I cannot attend to you; something else is
waiting for me." To that one thing he is committed.

There may be many subordinate matters among which he divides any surplus water,
but the current flows through one channel, and turns one great wheel. This "one
thing I do," is his plan and resolution. Many wonder at his choice, many condemn
it—no matter, he understands it, approves it, and pursues it, notwithstanding
the ignorance which cannot comprehend it, and the diversity of taste which
cannot admire it. He is no double-minded man, unstable in all his ways, whose
preference and purpose are shaken by every cross gale of opinion. It is nothing
to him what others do, or what they say as to what he does—he must do that,
whatever else he leaves undone. No one can be in earnest who has not thus made
up his mind; and he who has, and is resolutely bent upon an object, keeps it
constantly before his mind; his attention is so strongly and tenaciously fixed
upon it, that even at the greatest distance, "like the Egyptian pyramids to
travelers, it appears to him with a luminous distinctness, as if it were near,
and beguiles the toilsome length of labor and enterprise by which he must reach
it." It is so conspicuous before him that he does not deviate a step from the
right direction, he ever hears a voice calling him onward, and every movement
and every day brings him nearer to the end of his journey. Break in upon him at
any moment, you know where you will find him, and how he will be employed. This
is the first part of the description of an earnest minister—he too has selected
his object, and made up his mind concerning it, and insulating it from all
others, sets it clearly and distinctly before his mind. And what is it? What
should it be? Not science, or literature, or philosophy. Not a life spent in the
acquisition of knowledge, or the gratification of taste. Not the power of adding
to the treasures of knowledge accumulated during past ages. Not gathering the
elegancies which embellish civilized existence, and give amenity to social
communion. The man who has entered the sacred office merely to luxuriate in the
haunts of the muses, has mistaken his vocation to the pulpit, and is no less
guilty (though somewhat less sordid), than he who says, "Put me into the
priest’s office, that I may live a luxurious life." That a minister may to a
certain extent indulge a literary or scientific taste, and that he may even make
it subservient to a higher and more sacred object, is admitted. The pulpit has
done, and is doing, much service in all the departments of learning and
philosophy. It is in Christian countries that the valuable remains of Eastern,
Greek, and Roman wisdom and eloquence have been preserved, studied, imitated,
and sometimes even excelled. Christian nations have conducted philosophical
inquiries with the best success, and improved them for the most useful and
benevolent purposes.

"If these things are good and profitable unto society, a large portion of the
honor of such usefulness belongs to men set for the defense of the gospel,
desirous by sound reasoning to convince gainsayers, and conscious what weapons
human literature furnishes for this holy war. And then in addition to all this,
consider the effect of the pulpit upon what might be called the popular mind. To
thousands who have comparatively little leisure or opportunity to form their
taste, and cultivate their rational powers, by conversation with the wise and
enlightened, or by reading their works, a school is thus open, established
indeed for higher purposes, where men of sound understandings, though low in
rank, may without expense, and almost without intending it, learn from example
to distinguish or connect ideas, to infer one truth from another, to examine the
force of an argument, and so to arrange and express their sentiments as deeply
to impress themselves and others. As in a few years the child gradually acquires
the faculty of speaking his mother-tongue with a considerable degree of ease and
fluency, without any formal lessons, merely by hearing it spoken, so there is a
natural logic and rhetoric which some acquire without designing it, who go to
church for nobler ends, whereby they are enabled to detect the cunning
craftiness which the enemies of godliness or of public tranquility, lie in wait
to deceive. Indeed the culture of the talents and improvement of that
respectable class of men who earn their bread by the sweat of their brow,
generally rises or falls in proportion to the character and genius of their
religious discourses." (John Erskine) This is as true as it is beautiful, and
should remind all ministers of the gospel of the necessity and importance at all
times, but especially in such times as these, of keeping in mind the collateral
and secondary objects of pulpit instruction, and of preparing themselves for
conducting it with power and efficiency. There is not a temporal interest of man
as an individual, or a member of society, on which the sermons and general
influence of the ministry may not be made to bear advantageously; but then it
must never be forgotten that the things which have just been enumerated are at
best only the incidental, secondary, and collateral benefits of the ministry of
the word—they are among the many things that may be touched, but are not the one
thing that must be grasped—they are little rills diverted from the main stream
for the purposes of irrigation, but are not the river itself, bearing wealth and
civilization to the nations between whom it rolls. Nor is it the great object of
our ministry merely to preside with dignity over the solemnities of public
worship; to content ourselves and please our people with preparing and
delivering two well-studied discourses on the Sabbath; to keep all quiet and
orderly in the church; to maintain a kind of religious respectability and
intellectuality in the congregation. The end and aim of the ministry are to be
gathered from the apostle’s solemn and comprehensive language, "they watch for
your souls as those who must give account." There in that short, but sublime and
dreadful sentence, the end of the pastoral office is set before us. The design
of the pulpit is identical with that of the cross—and the preacher is to carry
out the design of the Savior in coming to seek and to save that which was lost.
Preaching and teaching are the very agency which Jesus Christ employs to save
those souls for which he died upon Calvary. If souls are not saved, whatever
other designs are accomplished, the great purpose of the ministry is defeated.

You are now prepared to understand what is the nature of real earnestness in a
minister of Christ—a distinct, explicit, practical recognition of his duty to
labor for the salvation of souls, as the purpose and goal of his office. Such a
man has settled with himself that this is his vocation and business. He has
looked at everything else which can be presented to his mind, has weighed the
claims of all, and with intelligence and firmness has said, and is prepared to
stand by his affirmation, "I watch for souls!" He thus understands his errand;
he is under no mistake, no uncertainty, no confusion. He has entered into
fellowship with God the Father in his eternal purpose of the salvation of the
human race; with the Son in the end of his incarnation and death; and with the
Holy Spirit in the intent of his coming down upon our desolate world. Of this
salvation which is the object of his ministry, the prophets inquired; to
accomplish it prophets preached, and angels ministered. And thus justified in
his choice by the Triune God and the noblest of his creatures, he leaves far
below him, in the aspirations and soarings of his ambition—the scholar, the
philosopher, and the poet. He has taken up an object in reference to which, if
he succeeds but in a single instance, he will have achieved a triumph which will
endure infinite ages after the proudest monuments of human genius have perished
in the conflagration of the world!

"The salvation of souls" as the great object of the pastoral office, is a
generic phrase, including as its species, the awakening of the unconcerned; the
guidance of the inquiring; the instruction of the uninformed; and the
sanctification, comfort, and progress of those who through grace have
believed—in short the whole work of grace in the soul. But the attention of the
reader is directed to the first of these particulars as the most commanding
object of pastoral solicitude, I mean the conversion of the unregenerate; and if
without offending against the law of modesty I may refer to my own history,
labors and success, I would observe, that I began my ministry, even as a
student, with a strong desire after this object; and long before this, while yet
a youth engaged in secular concerns, I had been deeply susceptible of the power
of an awakening style of preaching, and had been wrought upon by the rousing
sermons of Dr. Davies of New Jersey. (I wish these discourses were better known,
and more imitated by our young ministers. They are admirable specimens of
persuasive, hortatory, and impressive preaching, formed upon the model of
Baxter. It is such preaching we need. In these striking discourses may be seen
what I mean by earnest preaching. They are by no means scarce, and I would
advise my younger brethren to buy and read them.) From that time to the present
I have made the conversion of the impenitent the great end of my ministry, and I
have had my reward. I have been sustained in this course by the remarks of
Baxter, in his "Reformed Pastor," a long extract from which I must now be
permitted to introduce.

"We must labor in a special manner for the conversion of the unconverted. The
work of conversion is the great thing we must drive at; after this we must labor
with all our might. Alas! the misery of the unconverted is so great, that it
calls loudest to us for compassion. If a truly converted sinner does fall, it
will be but into sin which will be pardoned, and he is not in that hazard of
damnation by it as others are. Not but that God hates their sins as well as
others, or that he will bring them to heaven, let them live ever so wickedly;
but the spirit that is within them will not allow them to live wickedly, nor to
sin as the ungodly do. But with the unconverted it is far otherwise. They ’are
in the gall of bitterness, and in the bond of iniquity,’ and have yet no part
nor fellowship in the pardon of their sins, or the hope of glory. We have
therefore a work of greater necessity to do for them, even ’to open their eyes,
and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God;
that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and an inheritance among those who
are sanctified.’

"He who sees one man sick of a mortal disease and another only pained with the
tooth-ache, will be moved more to compassionate the former than the latter, and
will surely make more haste to help him, though he were a stranger, and the
other a brother or a son. It is so sad a case to see men in a state of
damnation, wherein, if they should die, they are lost forever, that methinks we
should not be able to let them alone, either in public or private, whatever
other work we have to do. I confess I am frequently forced to neglect that which
should tend to the further increase of knowledge in the godly—because of the
lamentable necessity of the unconverted! Who is able to talk of controversies,
or of fine, unnecessary theological points, or even of truths of a lower degree
of necessity, how excellent soever, while he sees a company of ignorant, carnal,
miserable sinners before his eyes, who must be changed or damned? Methinks I
even see them entering upon their final woe! Methinks I hear them crying out for
help, for speediest help! Their misery speaks the louder, because they have not
hearts to ask for help themselves!

Many a time have I known that I had some hearers of higher imaginations, that
looked for novelties, and despise the ministry, if I did not tell them something
more than ordinary; and yet I could not find in my heart to turn from the
necessities of the impenitent for the humoring of them; nor even to leave off
speaking to miserable sinners for their salvation, in order to speak so much as
should otherwise be done to weak saints for their confirmation and increase in
grace. Methinks as Paul’s ’spirit was stirred within him,’ when he saw ’the
Athenians wholly given to idolatry,’ so it should cast us into one of his
paroxysms to see so many men in the greatest danger of being everlastingly
damned. Methinks if by faith we did indeed look upon them as within a step of
hell, it would effectually untie our tongues! He who will let a sinner go down
to hell for lack of speaking to him, does set less by souls than did the
Redeemer of souls; and less by his neighbor than common charity will allow him
to do by his greatest enemy. O therefore, brethren, whomsoever you neglect,
neglect not the most miserable! Whatever you pass over, do not forget poor souls
that are under the condemnation and curse of the law, and who may look every
hour for the infernal execution—unless conversion does not prevent it. O call
after the impenitent, and ply this great work of converting souls, whatever else
you leave undone!" The editor of Baxter says—"These powerful and impressive
observations we cannot too earnestly recommend to the attention of ministers. We
have no hesitation in saying that the most of preachers whom we have known were
essentially defective in the grand and primary object of the Christian
ministry—laboring for the conversion of souls. From the general strain of some
men’s preaching, one would almost be ready to conclude that there were no
sinners in their congregations to be converted. In determining the proportion of
attention which a minister should pay to particular classes of his congregation,
the number of each class, and the necessities of their case, are unquestionably
the principal considerations which should weigh with him. Now in all our
congregations we have reason to fear the unconverted constitute by far the
majority; their situation is peculiarly pitiable; their opportunities of
salvation will soon be forever over; their danger is not only very great, but
very imminent; they are not secure from everlasting misery, even for a single
moment. Surely then the unconverted demand by far the largest share of the
Christian minister’s attention; and yet from many ministers, they receive but a
very small share of attention; their case, when noticed at all, is noticed only,
as it were, accidentally. This, no doubt, is a principal cause that among us
there are so few conversions by the preaching of the word, and especially in the
congregations of particular ministers. We feel this subject to be of such
transcendent importance that we trust we shall be excused for here introducing a
quotation connected with it, from another work of our author—"It is not a
general dull discourse, or critical observations upon Greek words, or the
handling of some fine and curious theological questions, nor is it a neat and
well-composed speech, about some other distant matters, that is like to acquaint
a sinner with himself. How many sermons may we hear that are levelled at some
mark or other which is very far from the hearers’ hearts, and therefore are
never likely to convince them, or open and convert them! And if our
congregations were in such a case as that they needed no closer quickening work,
such preaching might be borne with and commended. But when so many usually sit
before us that must shortly die, and yet are unprepared for death; and that are
condemned by the law of God, and must be pardoned or finally condemned; that
must be saved from their sins that they may be saved from everlasting misery; I
think it is time for us to talk to them of such things as most concern them, and
that in such a manner as may most effectually convince, awaken, and change them.

"A man that is ready to be drowned is not interested in a song or a dance. Nor
should you think that suitable to such men’s case—that does not evidently tend
to save them. But alas! how often have we heard such sermons as tend more to
amusement than salvation, to fill their minds with other matters, and find them
something else to think of, lest they should study themselves, and know their
misery! A preacher that seems to speak religiously by a dry, sapless discourse,
that is called a sermon, may more plausibly and easily ruin his hearers. And his
conscience will more quietly allow him to be taken off the necessary care of his
salvation, by something that is like it, and pretends to do the work as well,
than by the grosser avocations or the scorn of fools. And he will be more tamely
turned from godliness by something that is called religion, and which he hopes
may serve the turn—than by open wickedness or ungodly defiance of God and
reason.

"But how often do we hear sermons applauded, which force us in compassion to
men’s souls to think, ’O what is all this to the opening of a sinner’s heart
unto himself, and showing him his unregenerate state? What is this to the
conviction of a self-deluding soul, that is passing into hell—with the confident
expectations of heaven? What is this to show men their undone condition, and the
absolute necessity of Christ, and of renewing grace? What is in this to lead men
up from earth to heaven, and to acquaint them with the unseen world, and to help
them to the life of faith and love, and to the mortifying and pardon of their
sins?’

"How little skill have many miserable preachers in the searching of the heart,
and helping men to know themselves, whether Christ be in them, or whether they
be reprobates? And how little care and diligence is used by them to call men to
the trial, and help them in the examining and judging of themselves—as if it
were a work of no necessity? They have healed the hurt of the daughter of my
people slightly, saying, Peace, peace, when there is no peace, says the Lord!"

Oh what preachers we would be, could we drink into the spirit of these powerful
passages! May God impress them on our hearts, and lead us to mold our discourses
after their fashion. We should, however, by no means be unmindful of the
importance of building up the believer on his holy faith. Not only must the
children of the redeemed family be born—but they must also be fed, watched,
guided, and nourished up to manhood. The growth of the heirs of immortality in
grace and knowledge must be an object of deep solicitude with the faithful
pastor. His children in the faith are not glorified as soon as converted—but are
carried through a probation, and often a long one, of conflict, trial, and
temptation; and it is his business, by the instrumentality of the truth, deeply
searched, carefully expounded, and appropriately applied, to conduct them
through the perplexities and the dangers of the divine life.

Hence, therefore, it is the duty of the minister, not to be always dwelling on
first principles, and teaching the mere alphabet of Bible knowledge—but to lead
his people "on to perfection," yet still he is never to forget that by far the
greater number of those who are before him do not experimentally know these
first principles, and have not learned even the ’alphabet of practical piety’. I
once had a member of my church, who had been brought out of the literary world
to a deep, experimental knowledge of divine truth. She was a woman of uncommonly
fine and tasteful mind. After her conversion she dwelt for a season in London,
and on her return from the metropolis, in giving an account of the various
preachers she had heard, expressed her surprise and regret that their sermons,
however excellent, seemed to be addressed almost exclusively to true believers,
as if they took it for granted that their congregations were composed wholly of
such, and contained none who were dead in trespasses and sins. And I know a
devoted and consistent Christian, who, upon leaving a minister whom he had
attended for several years, declared he had scarcely ever heard one thoroughly
practical sermon from him during the whole time—there had been much doctrinal
statement, much theological science, much religious comfort; but no vivid and
pungent appeals either to saints or sinners! No wonder he knew of no conversions
there—and yet this preacher is not an Antinomian.

II. Earnestness implies that the subject has not only been selected—but that it
has taken full possession of the mind, and has kindled towards it an intense
desire of the heart.

It is something more than a correct theory and logical deductions; more than
mere exercise of the intellect, and the play of the imagination. Earnestness
means that the understanding having selected and appreciated its object, has
pressed all the faculties of both mind and body to join in the pursuit of it. It
urges the soul onward in its career of action at such a speed that it is set on
fire by the velocity of its own motion. The object of an earnest man is never
for any long period of time absent from his thoughts. He meditates on it by day,
and dreams of it by night—it meets him in his solitary walks as some bright
vision which he loves to contemplate, and it comes over him in company with such
power that he cannot avoid making it the topic of his conversation, until he
appears in the eyes of those who have no sympathy with him, as an enthusiast.

Foster, in his "Essay on Decision of Character," has alluded to Howard as
supplying a fine illustration of this mental quality. I furnish one extract
bearing more directly than any other, on our present theme. It relates to the
singular fact that this great philanthropist turned not a moment from his
course, when traversing scenes most calculated to awaken curiosity, and to
enkindle enthusiasm by the associations of ancient glory with which they are
connected, even Rome itself–

"The importance of his object held his faculties in a state of excitement which
was too rigid to be affected by lighter interests, and on which, therefore, the
beauties of nature and art had no power—like the invisible spirits who fulfill
their commission of philanthropy among mortals—and care not about pictures,
statues, and sumptuous buildings. It implied an inconceivable severity of
conviction that he had one thing to do; and that he who would do some great
thing in this short life, must apply himself to the work with such a
concentration of his forces, as, to idle spectators, who live only to amuse
themselves, looks like insanity. It was thus he made the trial, so seldom made,
what is the utmost effect which may be granted to the last possible effort of a
human agent; and therefore what he did not accomplish, he might conclude to be
placed beyond the sphere of mortal activity, and calmly leave to the disposal of
Omnipotence."

There, again, is the representation of the really and intensely earnest minister
of Jesus Christ, and of the manner in which he regards the object of his
ministry, the salvation of immortal souls. He has drunk in the inspiration of
those inexpressibly sublime and solemn words, so often already quoted, "They
watch for your souls, as those who must give account, that they may do it with
joy, and not with grief." This declaration has come over him like a spell, from
the fascination of which he neither tries, nor wishes, to escape. Whether seated
in his chair in his study, or carrying on the exercises of devotion in the
closet, or preaching the gospel in the pulpit, or enjoying the pleasures of
Christian friendship in the social circle, or recreating his energies amid the
beauties of creation—the words of Solomon stand conspicuously before his mind’s
eye, "He who wins souls is wise." While, ever and always, the thunder of
Christ’s solemn inquiry comes pealing over his ear—"What shall it profit a man
if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul; or what shall a man give in
exchange for his soul?" To be useful in converting souls is his constant and
practical aim—and his texts are chosen, his sermons are composed and delivered,
and his language, figures, and illustrations are selected—with a view to this.
That word, usefulness, has the same meaning in his ear, the same power over his
soul, as the word "victory" has over the mind of the hero—and the preparation
and delivery of the most eloquent sermons, with all the plaudits that follow
them, will no more satisfy his ambition, than the skillful military splendor,
and the martial music of a field day, however they may be admired by the
multitudinous spectators, will content the desires of the patriot warrior who
burns to defeat his country’s foe upon the field of battle, and to rescue the
liberties of his enslaved nation from the grasp of its tyrant. By the earnest
minister, the salvation of souls is sought with the obligation of a principle,
and the ardor of a passion. It is impressed upon his whole character, and is
inseparable from his conduct. It distinguishes him among, and from, many of his
brethren. When congregations either at home or abroad go to hear him, they know
what to expect, and consequently do not look for the flowers of rhetoric—but for
the fruit of the tree of life; not for a dry crust of philosophy, or a
petrifaction of criticism—but for the bread which comes down from heaven; not
for a display of religious fireworks, splendid but useless—but for the holding
up of the torch of eternal truth in all its brightness to guide wandering and
benighted souls to the refuge of the lost.

He has by the usual style of his pulpit discourses established his character as
a useful preacher, and those who go to hear him would as soon expect to hear
from a physician whom they consulted when sick, a mere poetical effusion or
classical dissertation, instead of directions for their health—as to hear such
matters from this servant of Christ, instead of a sermon calculated and designed
to do good to their souls. He could possibly be eloquent, profound, or learned;
and when such qualities can aid him in securing his one great end, he does not
scruple to use them. His aim is at the heart and conscience, and if anything
poetic, literary, logical, or scientific, will at any time polish and plume his
shafts, or sharpen the points of his arrows, he will not reject them—but will
avail himself of their legitimate use, that he may the more certainly hit and
pierce the mark. This is his motto, "If by any means I might save some."

III. But this touches a third thing implied in genuine earnestness, and that
is—the studious invention and diligent use of all appropriate MEANS to
accomplish the selected object. An earnest man is the last to be satisfied with
mere formality, routine, and prescription. He will often survey his object, his
means, and his instruments. He will look back upon the past to review his
course, to examine his failure and success, with the causes of each; to learn
what to do, and what to avoid, for the future. His inquiries will often be, What
next? What more? What better? And as the result of all this, new experiments
will be tried, new plans will be laid, and new courses will be pursued. With an
inextinguishable ardor, and with a resolute fixedness of purpose, he exclaims,
"I must succeed. And how is it to be?" And shall we ministers possess nothing of
this earnestness, if we are seeking the salvation of souls? Shall dull
uniformity, still formality, wearisome repetitions, and rigid routine, satisfy
us? Shall we never institute the inquiry, "Why have I not succeeded better in my
ministry? How is it that my congregation is not larger, and my church more
rapidly increasing? In what way can I account for it that the truth as it is in
Jesus, which I believe I preach, is not more influential, and the doctrine of
the cross is not, as it was intended to be, the power of God unto the salvation
of souls? Why do I not more frequently hear addressed to me, by those who are
constantly under my ministry, the anxious inquiry, ’What shall I do to be
saved?’ I am not lacking, as far as I know, in the regular discharge of my
ordinary duties, and yet I gather little fruit of my labors, and have to utter
continually the prophet’s complaint, ’Who has believed our report, and to whom
is the arm of the Lord revealed?’" Do we indeed indulge in such complaints! Have
we earnestness enough to pour forth such lamentations? Or is it of little
consequence to us, whether the ends of the ministry are accomplished or not,
provided we get our paychecks, keep up our congregations to their usual size,
and maintain tranquility in our churches? Are we often seen by God’s omniscient
eye pacing our studies in deep thoughtfulness, solemn meditation, and rigorous
self-inquisition; and after an impartial survey of our doings, and a sorrowful
lamentation that we are doing no more, questioning ourselves thus? "Is there no
new method to be tried, no new scheme to be devised, to increase the efficiency
of my pastoral labors? Is there nothing I can improve, correct, or add? Is there
anything particularly lacking in the matter, manner, or method of my preaching,
or in my course of pastoral attention?" Surely it might be supposed that such
inquiries would be often instituted into the results of a ministry so momentous
as ours; that seasons would be not infrequently set apart, especially at the
close or beginning of every year, for such a purpose. The result could not fail
to be beneficial.

Here it may be proper for us to look out of our own profession, and ask if the
earnest tradesman, soldier, lawyer, philosopher, and mechanic, are satisfied to
go on as they have done, though with ever so little success? Do we not see in
all other departments of human action, where the mind is really intent on some
great object, and where success has not been obtained in proportion to the labor
bestowed, a dissatisfaction with past modes of action, and a determination to
try new ones? And should we who watch for souls, and labor for immortality, be
indifferent to success, and to the plans by which it might be secured? In
calling for new methods, I want no new doctrines; no new principles; no
startling eccentricities; no wild irregularities; no vagaries of enthusiasm, no
frenzies of the passions; no, nothing but what the most sober judgment and the
soundest reason would approve; but I do want a more inventive zeal, as well as a
more fervid zeal, in seeking the great end of our ministry. "Respectable but
dull uniformity", and not enthusiasm, is the side on which our danger lies. I
know very well the contortions of an epileptic zeal are to be avoided—but so
also is the numbness of a paralytic lethargy; and after all, the former is less
dangerous to life, and is more easily and frequently cured, than the latter.

We may, as regards our PREACHING for instance, examine whether we have not dwelt
too little on the alarming themes—or on the attractive themes of revelation;
whether we have not clothed our discourses too much with the terrors of the
Lord—and if so, we may wisely determine to try the more winning forms of love
and mercy; or whether we have not rendered the gospel powerless by a perpetual
repetition of it in common-place phraseology; whether we have not been too
argumentative—and resolve to be more imaginative, practical, and hortatory;
whether we have not addressed ourselves too exclusively to believers—and
determine to commence a style of more frequent and pungent address to the
unconverted; whether we have not been too vague and general in our descriptions
of sin—and become more specific and discriminating; whether we have not been too
neglectful of the young—and begin a regular course of sermons to them; whether
we have not had too much sameness of topic—and adopt courses of sermons on given
subjects; whether we have not been too elaborate and abstract in the composition
of our discourses—and come down to greater simplicity; whether we have not been
too careless—and bestow more pains; whether we have not been too doctrinal—and
in future make all truth bear, as it was intended to do, upon the heart,
conscience, and life. Nor must the enquiry stop here. There ought to be the same
process of rigid scrutiny instituted as to the LABORS of the pastorate. We must
review the proceedings of this momentous department, for here also is most ample
scope for invention as to new plans of action. Perhaps upon inquiry we shall
find out that we have neglected various channels through which our influence
might have been brought to bear upon the flock committed to our care, and shall
discover many ways in which we can improve upon our former plans, in the way of
meeting inquirers after salvation, giving our aid to Sunday schools, setting up
Bible classes, or visiting the flock. What is needed is an anxious wish to be
lacking in nothing that can conduce to our usefulness—a diligent endeavor to
make up every deficiency—and a mind ever inquisitive after new means and methods
of doing good. Did we but adopt the plan of setting apart a day at the close of
every year for solemn examination into our pastoral and pastoral doings, with
the view of ascertaining our defects and neglects, to see in what way we could
improve, to humble ourselves before God for the past, and to lay down new rules
for the future, we would all be more abundantly useful than we are. And does not
earnestness require all this? Can we pretend to be in earnest if we neglect
these things? The idea of a minister’s going on from year to year with either
little success, or none at all, and yet never pausing to inquire how this comes
to pass, or what can be done to increase his efficiency, is so utterly repugnant
to all proper notions of devotedness, that we are obliged to conclude, the views
such a man entertains of the design and end of his office are radically and
essentially defective.

IV. Earnestness implies a purpose and power of subordinating everything it meets
with, selects, or engages in—to the accomplishment of its one great object. An
earnest man has much sagacity in discerning even at a distance, the objects
which are favorable to his purpose; much power in seizing them as they approach;
and much tact in pressing them into his service, and making them subserve his
schemes. He avoids at the same time the folly of letting go his main object in
pursuit of inferior ones—and of converting what ought to be only means into
ends. The operations of his mind resemble those of a vast machine, in which the
ruling power subjects to itself the thousand little wheels and spindles that are
set in motion, and makes them all accomplish the purpose for which the engine
has been set up. Or the current of his thought and feeling may be compared to
the majestic flow of some noble river, which receives into its stream, numerous
rivulets by which its waters are swollen, and its power increased. So acts the
earnest minister. There are various matters which he may attend to, and ought
not to neglect, which may with great propriety be considered as means—but which
cannot be viewed as the end of his high and holy calling. The first of these
means which I mention is learning, and indeed general knowledge of all kinds.
Literature, science, and philosophy, however excellent in themselves, and
however subservient they may be rendered as means to accomplish the great ends
of the pastoral office, must never be exalted into the place of those ends
themselves. Viewed as subordinate and subsidiary, they cannot be too highly
valued, or too diligently sought. There is not any kind or degree of knowledge
which may not be made tributary to the ends of gospel ministrations. All other
things being equal, he is likely to be the most useful preacher, who is the most
learned one. There is nothing, there can be nothing, in literature and science,
which of itself can be injurious to a minister of Christ. The pride and vanity
which produce such a result are but the weeds which flourish in a shallow and
sandy soil—but wither and die in a rich deep loam. The man who decries learning
as in itself mischievous to the ministry, is fit only to act the part of an
incendiary to all the libraries of the world. A minister may have too little
piety, too little solicitude for the salvation of souls, too little devotedness,
too little care to render his acquisitions subservient to the ends of his
vocation—but he can never have too much knowledge.

How beautiful is the following language of Dr. Wiseman, and how correct the
sentiment which it clothes and adorns. "Perhaps the best answer that can be
given to those inconsiderate Christians who say that godliness needs not such
foreign and meretricious aids as human learning, is that of South, ’If God has
no need of our learning, he can have still less of your ignorance.’ In the
spiritual temple, as well as in the ark of the covenant, there is room not only
for those humbler gifts, the skins and hair cloth—but also for the gold and
silver of human learning—and even the sciences themselves, daughters as they are
of the uncreated wisdom, may receive consecration from seraphic piety, and be
made priestesses of the Most High, by the very service in which we employ them."
This splendid passage expresses what I would urgently enforce, that literature
and science may be subservient—but must be only subservient, to the ends of the
pastoral office. The amiable and godly Doddridge, in his incomparable sermon on
"The Evil and Danger of Neglecting Souls," says, "Oh my brethren, let us
consider how fast we are posting through this dying life, which God has assigned
to us, in which we are to manage concerns of infinite moment—how fast we are
passing on to the immediate presence of our Lord, to give up our account to him.
You must judge for yourselves—but permit me to say for my own part, I would not
for ten thousand worlds be that man, who when God shall ask him at last how he
has employed most of his time, while he continued a minister of his church and
had the care of souls, shall be obliged to reply, ’Lord, I have restored many
corrupted passages in the classics, and illustrated many which were before
obscure; I have cleared up many intricacies in chronology or geography; I have
solved many perplexed cases in algebra; I have refined on astronomical
calculations, and left behind me many sheets on these curious and difficult
subjects; and these are the employments in which my life has been worn out,
while preparations for the pulpit, and ministrations in it, did not demand my
more immediate attendance.’ Oh Sirs, as for the waters that are drawn from these
springs, how sweetly soever they may taste to a curious mind that thirsts after
them, or to an ambitious mind that thirsts for the applause they sometimes
procure, I fear there is too often reason to pour them out before the Lord, with
rivers of penitential tears, as the blood of souls which have been forgotten,
while these trifles have been remembered and pursued." This is the language of a
scholar, a critic, and a man of varied knowledge, whose piety as a Christian,
and whose devotedness as a minister, were equal to his other attainments. In a
very elaborate and able critique on Hagenbach’s "History of Doctrines," I find
the following just and admirable remarks. "We trust that among the rising
ministry no one will allow himself to be tempted to the task for the mere
reputation of learning. The real value of learning, in the estimate of a
faithful servant of Christ, lies solely in the use that can be made of it. He
who employs time and toil in rendering himself a learned man, which employed
otherwise, would more effectually render him a useful man, is unfaithful to his
Master. There are few things more important than the right appreciation of
learning. There are some who spend their whole lives in acquiring it, in
amassing hoard upon hoard; as if it were the object of life to see how much
knowledge may be gotten in a given time; not how much good may be done with it,
or to what uses it may be turned as it is acquired. It is ’get, get, get!’ All
getting and no giving. This is of a piece with the mania by which some are
possessed in the mercantile world, the mania of money-making—with whom life’s
problem is, how they may die rich, how much they can be worth in the world,
before the moment comes when they must leave it. There is one material
difference between the two cases; and, strange to say it is in favor of the rich
rather than of the learned man. The rich man leaves his amassed treasures behind
him; so that, although to himself they have been of little use while he lived,
and now are of none, they are not lost; others may use them, and use them well.
But he who has been acquiring learning all his days without expending it in its
appropriate uses, leaves nothing behind him. He carries all with him. There is
no bank for deposits of learning, as there is for lodging silver and gold. So
far as his fellow-men are concerned, therefore, the money-hoarding miser does
most good. And should it be thought an advantage on the side of the miser in
learning, that he carries his mental stores away with him, as being treasures
that belong to the immortal mind, there are two serious deductions to be made
from this advantage—the first that the large proportion of what he had acquired,
is of a nature to be of little use to him, in all likelihood, in the world to
which he is going; and the second, that in common with the man of wealth, he
carries with him to that world, the guilt, (unthought of by him here, it may
be—but noted in his account with his Divine Master,) of not having laid out his
acquisitions for the good he might have accomplished by them, where and when
alone they could be available. Let it not be forgotten that mere learning is not
wisdom; that wisdom is learning or knowledge in union with the disposition and
ability to make a right use of it.

"Neither let it be forgotten that there is an opposite extreme to that which has
just been described. If there are some who are ever getting and never giving,
there are some too who would gladly be ever giving while they are never getting.
They are fond of preaching—but not of reading and study. Such young ministers
may be well-meaning; but they are under the influence of a miserable mistake.
Itinerants they may be, and useful ones—but efficient pastors they can never be.
They may preach the simple elements of the gospel, from place to place; but for
the constant regular instruction of the same flock they are utterly unfit. He
must be an extraordinary man who has resources in himself for such a work, that
render him independent of reading and study. Barrenness, tameness, sameness,
triteness, irksome and unprofitable repetition, must be the almost invariable
result of such presumption. There are some too, who, by way of honoring the
Bible, make it their rule to study nothing else, not even such human helps as
may fit them for understanding and illustrating its contents. This also, though
a better extreme than his, who neglecting the Bible itself, studies only human
opinions about it, yet is still an extreme, and an extreme which, while it
professes to put honor upon the Bible, indicates no small measure of
self-sufficiency. We put most honor upon the Bible, when we manifest our
impression of the value of a full and clear comprehension of its contents, in
the diligent application of all accessible means for the attainment of it."

It may be conceded, that we live in an age when to carry out the main purpose of
the Christian ministry, and to render it efficient for the salvation of souls,
higher pastoral qualifications, and larger acquirements of general knowledge are
required, than at any former period.

It will be clearly seen from all this, that I am not decrying education, or
learning, or the greatest diligence in ministers for the acquisition of
knowledge. Quite the contrary—but I am enforcing, with all the earnestness I can
command, the indispensable necessity of rendering all acquirements subordinate
to the great work of saving souls. Learning as an ultimate object and for its
own sake, is infinitely below the ambition of a holy and devoted servant of
Christ; but learning employed to invigorate the intellect, to enrich the
imagination, to cultivate the taste, to give power to thought, and variety to
illustration; to add to the skill and energy with which we wield the weapons of
our warfare, is in some cases indispensable, and in all invaluable. Unhappily it
is not uncommon for those who have made acquisitions in varied learning, or
acquired a scientific, philosophic, or literary taste—to yield to the seductions
of these pursuits, and to allow themselves to be led astray from the simplicity
that is in Christ Jesus. Their eye is not single, and their whole body is not
full of light.

If there is one man to be admired, envied, and imitated above all others, it is
he who has baptized all his classic and scientific acquirements at the font of
Christianity, has presented them at the foot of the cross, and has used them
only as the instruments and materials of that divine art by which he is enabled
to give a richer coloring, stronger light, and greater power to those facts and
scenes, of which the cross is the center and the symbol. To hear such a man
chastening and guiding—but not checking or freezing, the gushing utterances of a
full heart, by the standard of genuine eloquence; and warming and sanctifying
the finest rhetoric by the glow of a soul on fire with love to God and souls; to
see the genius of Tully or Demosthenes, imbuing itself with the spirit of Paul,
Peter, or John, and under the constraining love of Christ, employing all its
resources of diction, dialectics, and metaphor, to persuade men to be reconciled
to God—teaches the earnestness which the pulpit deserves and demands. Such a
minister is a polished shaft in Jehovah’s quiver, and to such a preacher we can
almost fancy that not only men but angels must listen with delight. Such
preachers we have had, and by the divine blessing may have again only let us use
the means, and look to have our tongues touched with the live coal from the
divine altar.

There is much truth in the following remarks of Vaughan. "The effect of learning
and elegant scholarship, in the modern pulpit, has commonly been to render men
incapable of producing impression of this nature in any degree. In the case of
such preachers, neither the diction they use, nor the mold into which they cast
their expressions and sentences, nor the comparisons they introduce, nor
anything belonging to their rhetoric—has been an object of study with a view to
its fitness to secure attention, and to move the thoughts and passions of such
assemblies as are generally convened by the preacher, assemblies made up from
the working classes of society. The great object of this class of preachers has
been to speak learnedly, or to speak elegantly. It is grievous to witness the
mischiefs which have resulted from this conventionalism in pulpit taste. If our
pulpit lessons must be veiled in the language of a particular kind of
scholarship, then the people generally, who have not been initiated into that
scholarship, will fail to perceive our meaning, and will begin as the
consequence, to look about for some better employment than listening to the
utterance of our unknown tongue."

I go on now to mention another qualification for the sacred office, which the
earnest minister will anxiously cultivate with a view to the great object of his
life and labors—and to this I advance with a praying mind, an anxious heart and
a trembling hand, ardently desirous to set it forth in such manner as shall
secure for it the attention which its importance demands—I mean personal
godliness. We are weak in the pulpit, because we are weak in the closet. An
earnest man will not only train his mind to understand his object, and draw
around him the resources requisite for its accomplishment—but will discipline
his heart—for there, within, is the spring of energy, the seat of impulse, and
the source of power. There the life that quickens must reside, and thence it
must be felt to emanate. If the heart beats feebly, the whole circulation must
be sluggish, and the frame inert. So it is with us ministers—our own personal
godliness is the mainspring of all our power in the pulpit. We are feeble as
preachers, because we are feeble as Christians. Whatever other deficiencies we
have, the chief of them all lies in our hearts. The apostle said, "We believe
and therefore speak." We not only speak what we believe—but as we believe—if our
faith be weak, so will be our utterance. In another place the same inspired
writer said, "Knowing the terrors of the Lord; we persuade men." It was as
standing amid the solemnities of the last judgment, that apostles besought men
to be reconciled to God. The flame of zeal which in their ministrations rose to
such a height and intensity as to subject them to the charge of insanity, is
thus accounted for, "The love of Christ constrains us." We have too much
forgotten that the fount of eloquence is in the heart; and that it is feeling
which gives to words and thoughts their power. An unrenewed man, or one of
lukewarm piety, may preach elaborate sermons upon orthodox doctrines—but what
are they for power and efficiency when compared with even the inferior
compositions of the preacher who feels as well as glories in the cross—but as
the powerless gleams of the aurora borealis to the warm and vivifying rays of
the sun? The Christian minister sustains a double relation, and has a double
duty to perform; he is a preacher to the world, and a pastor to the church; and
it is impossible he can fulfill, or be in earnest to fulfill, the obligations he
is under to either, without a large measure of personal godliness. As regards
the church which is committed to his care, and of which he is made by the Holy
Spirit the spiritual overseer, he has to increase not their knowledge only—but
also their holiness, love, and spirituality; to aid them in performing all the
branches of duty, and in cultivating all the graces of sanctification. And what
is the present spiritual condition of the great bulk of the professors of
religion? Amid much that is cheering, there is on the other hand much that is
discouraging and distressing to the godly observer. We behold a strange
combination of zeal and worldly-mindedness; great activity for the extension of
religion in the earth, united with lamentable indifference to the state of
godliness in a man’s own soul; apparent vigor in the extremities, with a growing
torpor at the heart. Multitudes are substituting zeal—for piety; liberality—for
self-mortification; and a merely social religion—for a personal godliness. No
careful reader of the New Testament, and careful observer of the present state
of the church, can fail to be convinced, one should think, that what is now
lacking is a higher tone of spirituality. The Christian profession is sinking in
respect of personal piety; the line of separation between the church and the
world becomes less and less perceptible—and this is taking place, because of the
lack of personal godliness. The character of genuine Christianity, as expounded
from pulpits, and delineated in books—has too rarely a counterpart in the lives
and spirit of its professors.

How is this to be remedied, and by what means is the spirit of piety to be
revived? May we not ask a previous question, How did the spirit of slumber come
over the church? Was it not from the pulpit? And if a revival is to take place
in the former, must it not begin in the latter? Are the ministers of the present
day possessed of that earnest piety which is likely to originate and sustain an
earnest style of preaching, and to revive the lukewarmness of their flocks? I do
not mean for a moment to insinuate that the ministers of the present day among
the Dissenters, or Methodists, or the Evangelical clergy of the Church of
England, are characterized by immorality, or even by a lack of substantial
holiness; or that they would suffer, as regards their piety, in comparison with
those of some other periods in the history of their denominations. But what I am
compelled to believe, and what I now express is, that our deficiencies are
great, when we are compared not only with what ministers have ever been required
to be—but especially with what we are required to be by the circumstances of the
times in which we live.

Amid the eager pursuit of commerce, the elegance and soft indulgence of an age
of growing refinement, the high cultivation of intellect, and the contests of
politics—the church needs a strong and high barrier to keep out the encroachment
of tides so adverse to its prosperity, and to keep in and to raise higher its
spiritual life. And where shall it find this, if not in the pulpit? It is not to
be expected in the nature of things, that the church will in spirituality ever
be superior to the ministry; or will ever consider itself without excuse for its
inferiority. It will not tread a path which its spiritual guides are slow to
pursue; and will deem it an affectation of sanctity and presumptuous ambition to
attempt to advance beyond them. How else than by admitting a deficiency of our
piety can we account for the fact of a diminished efficiency in our ministry?

I cannot resist the temptation of giving here a long extract from a beautiful
tract entitled "A Revived Ministry our only Hope for a Revived Church," a tract
so eminently excellent, and so adapted to promote the end of the godly and
accomplished writer, that the fact of such a heart-searching, soul-reviving
production having as yet reached only a second edition, is a proof that we have
little wish to be raised to higher attainments in piety.

"And for such a revived ministry there would be the most hopeful preparation of
mind. The object to be aimed at would be distinctly conceived; it would be loved
and cherished as the noblest to which a redeemed being can consecrate himself;
and there would be a readiness to yield everything to the urgency and grandeur
of its claims, together with a simplicity and sincerity of intention, which
would mightily aid the judgment in seeing its best way to the best methods of
achieving it. In such circumstances, all the distracting influences arising from
indistinct views, a divided heart, and infirmity of purpose, would be withdrawn,
and leave the minister of Christ free to take a decided and energetic course.
The subjection of the church and the world to the dominion of the truth, in a
pure heart and holy life, would be ever present to his mind as the sole and
sublime end of his ministry. And drawing after it the full tide of his
sympathies, and permitting no diversion of his strength to any inferior object,
it would command all his powers, and dispossess him of every wish but that of
living and dying for it. And that moment would be the dawn of an era of
prosperity.

"Everything which he did would be enlivened by the presence of a warmer and
holier zeal; but it would be the public administration of divine truth, in the
ordinance of preaching, in which the stronger and healthier pulsations of
spiritual life would be most signally displayed, and from which the largest
results might be expected. In this he would be prepared for acting a new part.
Himself saved, and eminently sanctified, as well as possessed of the whole
treasury of sacred knowledge in the inspired volume, he would be well versed in
the respective truths best calculated for awakening the unconverted, and
promoting the highest sanctification of the church, and administer them with
improved wisdom and force. The wretchedness of the soul as guilty, depraved, and
hastening to the judgment seat; the blessedness of arresting it in its downward
course, and of exalting it once more to the glory of the Divine image and favor;
the ample means provided for all this in the mediation of Christ; the experience
of the efficacy in himself, and the conviction of their undiminished power to do
as much for others; the rapid flight of time, and the possibility of all the
mercy overshadowing that hour being trifled with and lost forever—these
sentiments thrill his soul with mingled commiseration, hope, and fear—and urge
him to improve to the utmost the fleeting opportunity of snatching sinners from
perdition, and adding to the brightness of the Redeemer’s crown.

"How well chosen is his theme, no matter of curious speculation—but some one or
more of the solemn verities which concern the faith and obedience of every
hearer, and bring life or death, as accepted or rejected! Away with those
artificial rules which some have prescribed, as if to prepare a sermon were
something like composing an epic! He has a truth to enforce, a moral effect to
produce, and the sense of its unutterable importance brings to bear upon it all
the resources of a judicious, intelligent, and impassioned mind. Bent on winning
souls to God, or quickening them to higher obedience, this one desire possesses
and inflames him, and gives a unity and completeness to his subject, a force and
compactness of argument, a felicity of speech and manner, an ardor and
impressiveness of appeal, which the art of the rhetorician could never have
supplied. He feels moreover, that his strength is in God, and that the pleadings
of human wisdom and pity never availed apart from a higher inspiration.

"Would there not be more than hope from a ministry like this? In itself so
convincing and persuasive, rendered still more so by the practical exhibition of
all the faith, uprightness, benevolence, and spirituality which it inculcates,
looking to God, and owning its weakness without his blessing, it would have all
the characteristics from which the susceptibilities of the human mind, and the
solemn promises of the Almighty, authorize the expectation of enlarged success.
When was such a ministry known to be long in contact with the minds of men,
without producing the happiest effects? ’The word of the Lord would have free
course and be glorified,’ converts press into the church, and the church be
raised to a higher level of godliness.

"And the minister thus revived would have unusual power in individual communion
with the members of his flock. Living only for their advancement in faith and
holiness, the warmth and tenderness of his concern for it would make him prompt
to seize every opportunity of promoting it, and give an appropriateness and
weight to his sayings, which a colder and less earnest piety would never have
dictated. While the objects of his solicitude, feeling the point and force of
his words, and impressed with his singleness of purpose, and still more with
that uniform display of the Christian virtues, which was the best attestation of
his deep sincerity, would find themselves drawn along by a combination of
influences so pure and commanding, that they must tread in the steps of his
piety, and bend to his hallowed purpose of extending the limits of the church,
and giving it a holier aspect.

"Every faithful minister can look back upon seasons when under the kindlings of
a warmer love and zeal, and a more affecting sense of eternal things, he was
animated to increased exertion; and he has found that not only did his preaching
fix the attention and touch the souls of his hearers more than at other
times—but that, when he went among them in private, the elevation of his spirit,
the seriousness of his converse, and the solemnity and unction pervading his
petitions, produced an evident impression, and that he left them with improved
feelings and resolves. All emotion is contagious, and easily propagates itself
to other bosoms; but, besides this, the wakefulness of his zeal, and his
steadiness of purpose, made him eager to extract the highest amount of good from
every opportunity, stimulated ingenuity, and gave an aptness and charm to all
that he said, which fell with happy effect on the understanding and the heart.
And had the ardor and determination of those seasons been permanent, the equable
and healthy excitement of every day’s labor, instead of soon relapsing into the
feebler sensibility of other times, his ministry would doubtless have told a
different history, and be far more richly laden with precious fruit."


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  CHAPTER 15: 02.02.     THE NATURE OF EARNESTNESS CONTD
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contd

Happy shall I feel if this feeble tribute, not only of the recommendation of my
pen—but of my heart’s gratitude for the benefit I have derived from this
production, shall induce any of my brethren to peruse this precious gift, which
has been offered to them by a writer who veils himself under the modest title of
"One of the least among the Brethren." Do we need examples and patterns of
eminent and earnest piety, how richly are they supplied both in number and in
quality in the pages of our own denominational history! Where is the deep,
ardent, experimental godliness of our ancestors, the fathers and founders of
Protestant nonconformity? What a theologian was Owen, when he wrote his
"Exposition of the Hebrews," what a polemic when he penned his "Controversy"
with Biddle; what an ecclesiastic when he drew up his "Treatise on Church
Government," but what a Christian when he indulged in his "Meditations on the
Glory of Christ," and gave us his treatise "On Spirituality of Mind and the
Mortification of Sin."

What a logician and divine was Howe, when he produced his "Living Temple," but
what a Christian, when in the shadow of this noble structure of his holy genius,
he poured out his heart in his work on "Delighting in God," and the "Blessedness
of the Righteous." And then think of holy Baxter, who gained repose from the
labors of polemic strife, and relief from the tortures of the stone, in the
believing anticipations of "The Saint’s Rest." Was their piety the result of
their sufferings? Then for one I could be almost content to take the latter, so
that I might be possessed of the former. Lead me to the spots, I do not say
where they trimmed their midnight lamp, and continued at their studies until the
morning star glittering through their casement chided them to their pillow; but
to those more hallowed scenes, where they held their nightly vigils, and
wrestled with the angel until the break of day. Mighty shades of Owen and
Baxter, Howe and Manton, Henry and Bates, Goodwin and Nye, illustrious and holy
men, we thank you for the rich legacy you have bequeathed to us in your immortal
works—but O where has the mantle of your piety fallen? "God of our fathers! be
the God of their following race."

Here then let us begin, where indeed we ought to begin, with our own spirits;
for what should be the piety of that man on the state of whose heart depends in
no small degree the spiritual condition of a whole Christian community? If we
turn to any department of human action we shall learn that no one can inspire a
taste, much less a passion, for the object of his own pursuit, who is not
himself most powerfully moved by it. It is a scintillation of his zeal flying
off from his own glowing heart, and falling upon their souls, which kindles in
them the fire which burns in himself. Lukewarmness can excite no ardor,
originate no activity, produce no effect—it benumbs whatever it touches. If we
enquire what were the sources of the energy, and the springs of the activity, of
the most successful ministers of Christ, we shall find that they lay in the
ardor of their devotion. They were men of prayer and of faith. They dwelt upon
the mount of communion with God, and came down from it like Moses to the people,
radiant with the glory on which they had themselves been intently gazing. They
stationed themselves where they could look at unseen and eternal things, and
came with the stupendous visions fresh in their view, and preached under the
impression of what they had just seen and heard. They drew their thoughts and
made their sermons from their minds and from their books—but they breathed life
and power into them from their hearts, and in their closets. Trace Whitfield in
his career, and you will see how beaten was the road between his pulpit and his
closet—the grass was not allowed to grow in that path. This was in great part
the secret of his power. He was mighty in public, because in his retirement he
had clothed himself, so to speak, with Omnipotence. He reflected the luster he
had caught in the Divine presence; and its attraction was irresistible. The same
might be said of all others who have attained to eminence as successful
preachers of the gospel. If then we would see a revival of the power of the
pulpit, we must first of all see a revival in the piety of those who occupy
it—and when this is the case, then, "he who is feeble among us shall be mighty
as King David."

V. Earnestness will manifest itself by energetic and untiring action in use of
those means by which its object is accomplished. It does not satisfy itself with
mere contemplation, however enraptured. It does not satisfy itself with mere
schemes, however well concerted. It does not satisfy itself with mere wishes,
however fervent. It does not satisfy itself with mere anticipations, however
lively. But sincere earnestness proceeds to vigorous, well arranged, and well
adapted exertion. An earnest man must of necessity be an active one—he is the
opposite of an idle dreamer. "I see my object," he exclaims; "it stands out in
bold relief, clearly defined before my eyes, and I will leave no effort untried
to accomplish it. I have made up my mind to labor, self-denial, and fatigue; and
if I do not succeed, it shall not be for lack of determined and continuous
effort." Such is his resolution, and his practice fulfils it. He is always at
work. You know where to find him, and how he will be employed. He is the very
’description of diligence’. Labor is pleasure. No difficulties deter him, no
disappointments dishearten him. The ignorant do not understand him, the indolent
pity him—but the intelligent admire him. There is something in his earnestness,
which is commanding, attractive, and inspiring, especially when the object of it
is worthy.

Apply this to the ministry; there are two means by which this accomplishes its
end, preaching and the pastorate. In reference to PREACHING, I advert first to
the substance of our teaching. And this must consist of course of those topics
which bear most obviously and directly upon the great ends we are seeking to
accomplish. Earnestness will take the nearest and most direct road to its
object; nor will it be seduced from its path by beautiful prospects and pleasant
walks, which lie in another direction. "I want to reach that point, and I cannot
allow myself to be attracted by scenes, which however agreeable and interesting
to others, would, if I stayed or turned to contemplate them—only hinder me in my
business." Such is the language of one intent upon success in any particular
scheme. Now what is the end of our pastoral office? The reconciliation of
sinners to God, and their ultimate and complete salvation, when so reconciled.
It is easy then to see that the substance of our instruction and persuasion must
be the ministry of reconciliation. Of course it must be our purpose to declare
the whole counsel of God, and to remember "that all Scripture is given by
inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction,
for instruction in righteousness; that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly
furnished unto all good works." In the way of exposition, a minister should go
through the greater part of the whole Bible, fairly and honestly explaining and
enforcing it. But since the whole Bible, as explained by the more perfect
revelation of the New Testament, directly or indirectly points to Christ, or may
be illustrated and enjoined by considerations suggested by his mission and work,
our preaching should have a decidedly evangelical character. The divinity,
incarnation, and death of Christ; his atonement for sin; his resurrection,
ascension, intercession, and mediatorial reign; his spiritual kingdom, and his
second coming; the offices and work of the Holy Spirit in illuminating,
regenerating, and sanctifying the human soul; the doctrine of justification by
faith, and the new birth; the sovereignty of God in the dispensation of his
saving gifts—these and their kindred and collateral topics should form the
staple of our preaching and teaching.

It surely must be this which the apostle meant when he said, "I determined to
know nothing among you, but Jesus Christ and him crucified." "The Jews require a
sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom—but we preach Christ crucified, to the
Jews a stumbling block, and unto the Greeks foolishness; but unto those who are
called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God." If
there be any meaning in language, this must imply that the apostle in his
ministry dwelt chiefly upon the work of Christ. His epistles all sustain this
view of his meaning. They are all full of this great subject. We may perhaps
smile at the simple piety of the individual who was at the trouble of counting
the number of times that the apostle Paul mentions the name of Jesus in his
epistles; but at the same time, something is to be learned from the fact that he
found it to reach between four and five hundred. This teaches us how thoroughly
Christ-centered, how entirely imbued with evangelism, his mind and his writings
were. His morality was as evangelical as his doctrine, for he enforced all the
branches of moral and social obligation by motives drawn from the cross. His
ethics were all baptized with the spirit of the gospel, so that the believer who
has imbibed the spirit of his writings, will have his eye as constantly kept
upon the crucified One, in the progress of his sanctification—just as the
sinner’s eye is turned towards the same object, for his justification. This then
was the earnestness of the apostle; one constant, uniform, and undeviating
endeavor to save men’s souls by the truth as it is in Jesus. A question now
arises whether it is the duty of modern preachers to adopt the same method, and
whether, inasmuch as their ends are the same with those of the apostle, they are
to seek them by the same means. One would suppose there can be no rational doubt
of this. If the apostles were the inspired teachers of Christianity, and have
given us in their writings a full exhibition of what Christianity really is; and
if it is our business to explain and enforce their writings, it seems to follow,
as a thing of course—that our teaching, as to the matter of our discourses, must
resemble theirs. And will anyone pretend that this resemblance can be
established, unless our preaching is richly and prevailingly Christ-centered? I
am aware it is sometimes said that times have altered since the apostles’ days,
that the state of the world is different from what it then was. But is not human
nature in all its essential elements the same? Is it not the same in its moral
aspect, impotency, and necessities? Does it not as much need, and as much depend
upon, the gospel scheme now, as it did then? Is not the gospel as exquisitely
and fully adapted to its miserable condition now as it was then? Can sin be
pardoned in any other way than through the atonement of Christ; or the sinner be
justified by any other means than faith in the Lord our Righteousness; or the
depraved heart be renewed and sanctified by any other agency than that of the
Holy Spirit? Are not all the motives supplied by evangelical doctrine as
powerful and as efficacious now—as they were then? No alteration of the subjects
of preaching then can be called for now, to meet the advancing state of society,
since the gospel is intended and adapted to be God’s instrument for the
salvation of man, in all ages of the world, in all countries, and in all states
of society. The sinful moral epidemic of our nature is always and every where
the same, in whatever various degrees of virulence it may exist; and the healing
system of salvation by grace, through faith, is God’s own and unalterable
specific remedy for the disease, in every age of time, in every country of the
world, and in every state of society. Men may call in other physicians than
Christ, and try other methods of cure, as they have done; but they will all
fail, and leave the miserable patient hopeless and helpless, as regards any
other means of health than that which the cross of Christ presents. I reject
alike as delusive and fatal the ancient practice of conforming the evangelical
scheme to systems of philosophy, and the modern notion of the progressive
development of Christian doctrine by the church. To the men who would revive the
former, I say, "Beware lest any man deceive you, through a vain and deceitful
philosophy, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and
not after Christ!" To the latter I say, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and
today, and forever. Be not carried away with diverse and strange doctrines; for
it is a good thing that the heart be established with grace." It appears to me
that something like the same attempts are being made in this day to corrupt the
gospel by superstitious additions on the one hand, and by philosophic
accommodations on the other, as were made in the early days of Christianity. Our
danger lies in the latter.

It should never be forgotten that the time when the apostles discharged their
ministry was only just after the Augustan era of the ancient world. Poetry had
recently bestowed on the lettered world the works of Virgil and Horace. The
light of philosophy, though waning, still shed its luster over Greece. The arts
still exhibited their most splendid creations, though they had ceased to
advance. It was at such a time, and amid such scenes, the gospel began its
course. The voices of the apostles were listened to by sages who had basked in
the sunshine of Athenian wisdom, and were reverberated in startling echo from
temples and statues that had been shaken by the thunders of Cicero and
Demosthenes; yet they conceded nothing to the demands of philosophy—but held
forth the cross as the only object they felt they had a right to exhibit. They
never once entertained the degrading notion that they must accommodate
themselves to the philosophy or the taste of the age in which they lived, and
the places where they ministered. It is true the philosophy of that day was a
false one—but it was not known or acknowledged to be such at the time. It was
admired as true, though like many systems that have succeeded it, it gave place
to another, and was doomed, like some that now prevail, to wane before new and
rising lights.

Whether the apostle addressed himself to the philosophers on Mars Hill, or to
the barbarians on the island of Melita; whether he reasoned with the Jews in
their synagogues, or with the Greeks in the school of Tyrannus, he had but one
theme, and that was Christ, and him crucified. And what right, or what reason
have we for deviating from this high and imperative example? Be it so, that we
live in a literary, philosophic, and scientific age, what then? Is it an age
that has outlived the need of the gospel for its salvation; or for the salvation
of which anything else can suffice but the gospel? The supposition that
something else than pure Christianity, as the theme of our pulpit ministrations,
is requisite for such a period as this, or that it must be presented in a
philosophic guise, appears to me a most perilous sentiment, as being a
disparagement to the gospel itself, a daring assumption of wisdom superior to
God’s, and containing the nucleus of infidelity. The gospel sustains the nature
of a testimony which must be exhibited in its own peculiar and simple form; a
testimony to certain unique and momentous facts which must be presented as they
really are, without any attempt or wish to change their nature or alter their
character, in order to bring them into nearer conformity to the systems of men.
Let the taste be cultivated as it may by literature, or the mind be enlightened
by science, or the reason be disciplined by philosophy—the heart is still
deceitful and wicked, the conscience still burdened with guilt, and the whole
soul in a state of alienation from God. The moral constitution is mortally
diseased, and nothing but the gospel can convey God’s saving health, which is as
much required for his spiritual restoration by the polished son of science, as
by the savage of New Zealand, or the Hottentot of South Africa. All else is but
pretense and worthlessness; and the man who would be successful in the salvation
of souls must have a clear conviction and a deep impression of these facts.
Philosophy must never be allowed to dilute the life-giving elixir of of the
gospel, nor to evaporate it into the clouds of philosophy. "Don’t let anyone
lead you astray with empty philosophy and high-sounding nonsense that come from
human thinking and from the evil powers of this world, and not from Christ."
Colossians 2:8 But perhaps the danger to which the evangelical ministry of the
present age is exposed, is not so much a philosophizing spirit, or an attempt to
make the gospel conform to any current theory, as an effort to attain to a high
intellectuality in setting forth received truths. We hear a great deal about
this in modern times. It is become a kind of cant term, (for there is high as
well as low cant,) to speak of some men as very intellectual preachers. If by an
intellectual preacher be meant a man who applies the acquirements of a well
furnished and well trained understanding to explain and enforce the great topics
of evangelical truth; or the application in the most attractive form to the
great end of the Christian ministry, of whatever knowledge such a mind can
obtain in its pursuit of all kinds of information; or the employment of sound
logic and natural eloquence to make the doctrines which are unto salvation bear
upon men’s hearts and consciences—if this be meant, a man cannot be too
intellectual, as the great and glorious doctrines of revealed truth deserve and
demand the mightiest energies of the noblest intellects. But if, as is too
generally the case, intellectuality means the cold, dry, argumentative
discussion of philosophical subjects rather than of evangelical truths, or the
discussion of such truths in an abstract and essay-like form; a mere heartless
exercise of the reason of the preacher, intended and adapted only to engage the
understanding of his hearers, without either interesting their affections or
awakening their conscience; such intellectuality will do nothing but empty the
places of worship in which it is exhibited, or at best draw together a
congregation of people, who, though they cannot as yet bring themselves to do
without some kind of religion, yet prefer the cold abstractions of the head, to
the warm affections of the heart. Such hearers assemble to listen to a
philosophical lecturer on spiritual subjects, and not to a publisher of glad
tidings to sinners.

Here I would not be misconstrued to mean that every sermon must be on strictly
evangelical themes; but that these must be the prevailing topics of the man who
is in earnest for the salvation of souls. Nor would I go so far as to say that
each sermon must contain as much of the gospel as would make every hearer of it
acquainted with the way of salvation, even if he never should listen to another
discourse. There is such a thing as treating these subjects so carelessly, so
familiarly, and so frequently, as to deprive them of all their power to interest
and impress. A man whose soul is possessed with the passion for doing good, will
make almost any and every topic connected with the gospel tend to usefulness.
Subjects, which in other hands would be dry and uninteresting, will in his be
invested with the glow and warmth which live in his own soul, and which he
imparts to everything he touches. His heart beats with an action so strong,
steady, and healthful, that his fervid and holy intellect circulates an
evangelical vitality through what in others would be a cold and torpid frame of
mind, and thus causes the principle of gospel life to reach to the very
extremities of the system of general truth.

Still even he, though he dwells occasionally on every topic which can with
propriety be brought into the pulpit, will like the apostle, "glory only in the
cross of Christ." Resisting the temptations to neglect the plain gospel, and to
go in quest of airy speculations and unprofitable novelties, his aim will not be
to gratify the imaginative by what is tasteful and poetic; nor the learned by
what is profound; nor the philosophical by what is subtle; nor the curious by
what is strange—but by manifestation of the truth, to commend himself to every
man’s conscience in the sight of God. Alas, that any preacher of the gospel
should take any other aim, and seek any other object, than this! Do we want
subjects for eloquence, where can we find them in such abundance, grandeur, and
sublimity, as in the gospel theme? The cross is a fount of the purest, most
impassioned and most touching eloquence in the world, from which genius may be
ever drawing, without fear of exhausting it. Compare the most finished orations
of Massillon, Bossuet, or Bourdaloue, with McLaurin’s discourse on "Glorying in
the Cross"—and though they are more perfect as models of composition, and more
decorated by the artifices and graces of rhetoric, yet how far below that
incomparable sermon in the sublimity of its theme, and the grandeur of its
evangelical eloquence, are those boasted masterpieces of the French pulpit!

"My dear brethren, why are we not more impressive? Theology affords the best
field for tender, solemn and sublime eloquence. The most solemn objects are
presented; the most important interests are discussed; the most tender motives
are urged. God and angels; the treason of Satan; the creation, ruin and recovery
of a world; the incarnation, death, resurrection, and reign of the Son of God;
the day of judgment; a burning universe; an eternity; a heaven and a hell—all
pass before the eye! What are the petty dissensions of the states of Greece?
What are the plots and victories of Rome—compared with this? If ministers were
sufficiently qualified by education, study and the Holy Spirit; if they felt
their subject as much as Demosthenes and Cicero did, they would be the most
eloquent men on earth, and would be so esteemed wherever congenial minds were
found." (Griffin’s Sermon on the Are of Preaching) To know what themes have the
greatest potency over the public mind, and should form the subject of an earnest
ministry, we have only to consult the pages of ecclesiastical history. It is
unnecessary to dwell again upon the matter of apostolic preaching. It was by the
purest evangelism that Christianity was planted in the earth, and it was when
this gave place to ’a religion of forms and ceremonies’ that the power and
vitality of true godliness declined, and a mass of vile corruption grew up, in
the dark shadow of which the man of sin erected his throne, and the Papacy
commenced its bloody reign. During the long night of the middle ages the sound
of the faithful preacher was not heard, and the voice of Zion’s watchman was
silent, except in a few obscure nooks and corners of the earth; but wherever it
was then heard, the same effects followed. It was this subject with which Claude
of Turin, when nearly all the world was wandering after the beast, awakened in
the ninth century the inhabitants of Piedmont, and commenced that glorious work
which was more or less carried on for centuries, amid the seclusion of Alpine
rocks and vallies; and which the concentrated power and fury of the Papacy could
never entirely subvert. It was this evangelism which our Wickliff preached in
England in the fifteenth century, and by it kindled a fire, amid the smouldering
ashes of which lay concealed embers which were again to ignite when fanned by
the breath of other reformers, a century afterwards. By what means did Luther
achieve his immortal triumph over the powers of the Vatican, and strike off the
fetters which had enslaved the judgment, heart, and conscience of man? By the
potency of what theme did he lift up into freedom and dignity the prostrate
intellect of the human race? What was the instrument with which he struck the
empire of darkness, and inflicted a blow which resounded through Christendom?
the great evangelical doctrine of justification by faith. By what means did
Whitefield and Wesley rouse the slumbering piety of our nation, and call up a
theme which is going on from strength to strength to this day? By the
evangelical system of Divine truth. What called forth the missionary enterprise,
and constructed all that moral machinery which is at work to effect the world’s
conversion? Before what system of truths have the inhabitants of Polynesia and
New Zealand surrendered their licentious habits and bloody rites; and the
Hottentots and Eskimos dropped their barbarism, and risen up in the form and
manners of civilized men? What is the doctrine by which our missionaries are
taking possession of India and China? I answer in each case, the doctrine of the
cross!

It is then a fact attested by authentic history, and uncontradicted by anyone
acquainted either with the present or the past, that all the great moral
revolutions of our world, since the Christian era, have been effected by one
simple process, by one set of means, and by one grand truth—and that process is
preaching, those means are earnest men, and that truth is the gospel of the
grace of God. Providential events may have prepared the way, by leveling
mountains, and filling up vallies, and making smooth the course of the herald of
the cross; but it is that herald’s mighty voice proclaiming, "Behold the Lamb of
God, who takes away the sins of the world!" which by the power of God’s Spirit
has changed the moral aspect of our dark and dreary world. This has not been
done by learning, science, or philosophy; it is not the result of profound
speculations on any theory of morals, or of fine processes of reasoning, or of
splendid creations of poetic genius, or of the subtleties of philosophical
discussion. No! but of the simple testimony of the gospel. While the philosopher
has been theorizing in his closet, and the statistical philanthropist has been
carrying on his calculations in his study, the preacher has gone forth into the
midst of the people—ignorant, wicked, and wretched, as they were—has lifted up
the great truth of the loving God, the dying Savior, and the regenerating
Spirit, and has by these means, as an instrument of God, changed the aspect of
society, and revolutionized the moral habits of nations.

Strange that with the knowledge of these facts, any of our preachers should
think of replacing the glorious truths which have wrought such wonders in the
world, by any other themes; or should act as if weapons that have proved their
adaptation and their power, should now be wielded with a doubtful mind and with
a hesitating and wavering hand! If we would know how we are to convert souls to
God, we have only to ask how has God converted them. Nor is it necessary to go
back to past ages, or abroad to other countries. Let us only look round upon our
own country; let us go to our largest congregations and our most numerous
churches, and ask what kind of preaching has done all we see—what doctrine, and
how handled, has drawn those multitudes together; what magnet has put forth its
attractions there? The secret will be soon discovered, and it will be found that
there is an exemplification of our Lord Jesus Christ’s words, "And I, if I be
lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me."

Go into other places where ’religious intellectuality’ is substituted for the
vital truths of the gospel, where philosophical abstractions take the place of
popular addresses on great fundamental doctrines, and cold, logical essays are
read, instead of heart-stirring sermons being preached; and the attenuated and
still declining congregations will proclaim the lack of adaptation in the pulpit
ministrations, and prove that for the popular mind there can be no substitute
for the cross of Christ. Nor does this apply exclusively to the uneducated or
partially educated classes. Human nature in all its prevailing features, tastes,
necessities, and enjoyments, is the same in the king and in the peasant; in the
savage and the sage. All men are susceptible of emotion, as well as capable of
reasoning; and all men love to feel, as well as to think. A commercial or
professional man, who has been at work all the week, having had his mind
strained with hard thinking, as well as his body by hard labor, when he takes
his seat in his pew on a Sabbath morning, wants something for his heart, as well
as for his head. With a sermon, however intellectual it may be, which has
nothing that comes home to his affections, and causes him to feel, he is sure to
be disappointed and dissatisfied. A dry essay on some gospel subject which only
proves a point he never doubted, or starts a difficulty he never dreamt of—is
like giving him a stone when he asks for bread. He wants to be made to feel and
to realize that there is something higher and better than this world. He desires
to enjoy the luxury of hallowed emotion, he covets the joy and peace of
believing, and the anticipations of that world where the weary are at rest, and
the din of business will be forever hushed. That man, tired and jaded by the
cares, anxieties, and toils of six days—wants to lie down and take repose on the
soft green grass of evangelical truth, and not on the hard rocks of abstract
speculation. It is true that being a man of education and reading, his heart
must be reached through his intellect, and he must be fed with the substantial
bread of evangelical truth, which, though his taste is healthful, must not be
coarse and chaffy; must not only be made of the finest wheat—but it must also be
well prepared, mixed and made by a skillful hand.

It is however said that though the same gospel is to be preached, and the matter
of sermons is in substance to be ever the same, in all the varying states of
society, yet that the mode of exhibiting the gospel is to be accommodated to the
circumstances of the age, and that a different mode of presenting the truth must
be adopted in an age of advancing knowledge, to what is pursued in one of less
refined and cultivated habits. If by this be meant that there must be more
vigorous thinking, more profound analysis, more accurate criticism, more varied
illustration from the fields of science, more pains to show the harmony of sound
theology with sound philosophy—then it may and must be admitted, that the mode
of preaching should be adapted to the circumstances of an advancing age. But
even with this admission, it must still be remembered that the essential nature
of the gospel, as a testimony from God, to be received on the ground of its own
evidence and authority, must not be altered; nor any attempts made to shift the
obligation to receive it from this ground to its apparent reasonableness or
conformity with the principles of any system of human philosophy. Nor must this
’adaptation to the circumstances of the age’ be carried so far either in the way
of logic, criticism, or illustration, as to obscure the light, or corrupt the
simplicity, of the evangelical system. The substitution of a dry, abstract, and
philosophical mode of preaching the gospel—for a lively, forcible, and
heart-affecting, conscience-rousing method—so far from being adapted to this age
of excitement, is quite opposed to it. This is a busy, active, glowing period of
time’s history, as well as a thinking one. The heart is yearning, as well as the
intellect. The abstractions of the intellect are dealt with now in such a manner
as to kindle the affections to a blaze, and no method of exhibiting the gospel
can be successful, if not adapted to produce this result. If flimsy thought,
thread-bare common-places, will not do; so neither will mere airy speculation,
hard logic, cold learning, or mere philosophy. It must be the gospel, preached
with manly, vigorous thinking—in plain English words, and with classic
simplicity and perspicuity of style.

I am somewhat hesitant about this idea of accommodating our method of preaching
to the taste and circumstances of the age, until the meaning of the expression
be accurately settled and thoroughly understood. Without great care, the spirit
of accommodation and the attempt at adaptation will go on from manner to matter,
and even our creeds will be somewhat curtailed and altered, to establish a
harmony between our theology and our philosophy. Already the process has begun,
and the neology of Germany, like a beacon gleaming upon us from its dreadful
rock, should warn us of the danger we are in on such a coast, of making
shipwreck of our faith.

Perhaps the best mode of making this subject understood, and showing to what
extent this adaptation may be carried, would be to select and compare the
sermons of two different periods of the history of the pulpit. Take, then, for
example, a sermon of Dr. Owen, or Dr. Manton, with all its numberless divisions
and sub-divisions, quaint phraseology, and violations of taste, and put it by
the side of a sermon by Dr. Chalmers, Mr. Bradley, or Dr. Wardlaw; and by the
comparison you will see that the power of adaptation has increased in the
moderns, and that they exhibit the same glorious verities as their
predecessors—with improvements of style and arrangement.

Before I pass from this part of the subject, it may be proper to remark that
perhaps there are few expressions more misunderstood, and with respect to which
more mistakes have been made, than "preaching the gospel." Many by the use of
this phrase aim to exclude from the pulpit almost every topic but a perpetual
and almost unvarying exhibition of the death of our Lord, and consider this, and
this only, as specifically preaching Christ. But it is strangely forgotten by
the preachers of this school, that as the scheme of mediation by the Savior is
founded on the eternal obligation and immutable nature of the law of God, and
was intended not to subvert—but to uphold, its authority; the moral law must be
explained and enforced in all its purity, spirituality, and extent. Repentance
towards God is no less included in the apostolic ministry, than faith in our
Lord Jesus Christ; and a sinner cannot repent of his transgressions against the
law, which he has violated, if he knows it not—for "sin is the transgression of
the law," and "by the law is the knowledge of sin." No man can know sin without
knowing the law—and herein appears to me one of the prevailing defects of modern
preaching—I mean the neglect of holding up this perfect mirror, in which the
sinner shall see reflected his own moral image. It is true that some are melted
down at once into a sense of wickedness, and brought to the exercise of both
repentance and faith, by an exhibition of divine love in the death of Christ;
but this is not so usual a method of conversion as the first awakening of the
sinner by an exposition and application of the perfect law.

Dwight says, "Few, very few, are ever awakened or convinced by the
encouragements and promises of the gospel; but almost all by the denunciation of
the law. The blessings of immortality, the glories of heaven, are usually, to
say the least, preached with little efficacy to an assembly of sinners. I have
been surprised to see how dull, inattentive, and sleepy, such an assembly has
been, amid the strongest representations of these divine subjects, combining the
most vivid images with a vigorous style and an impressive elocution." This is a
strong testimony, and it is perhaps a little overstated. Still I am persuaded
there is much truth in it, for it seems to stand to reason, that men will care
little about pardon, until they are convinced of sin; and as the apostle says,
it is by the law that they come to the knowledge of sin. In this particular
there appears to me a greater adaptation to the work of conviction in American
preaching than in the British pulpit—it has more of this exposition of the law,
and of the application of it to the sinner’s conscience; more that is calculated
to make him feel at once his obligations and his guilt; more of that which
silences his excuses, unravels the deceitfulness of his heart, strips him of
self-righteousness, makes him thoroughly acquainted with himself, and his
intense need of a Savior—in short, more of what the apostle calls commending
himself to every man’s conscience in the sight of God; though it has, however, I
think a lack of evangelical fullness and tenderness.

I remember a discussion by a large company of ministers in my vestry, on one
occasion, as to the style of preaching which in their own experience they had
found most useful; and it was pretty generally admitted, (and some of them had
been among our most successful preachers,) that sermons on alarming and
impressive texts had been most blessed in producing conviction of sin, and the
first concern about salvation. At the same time it must be recollected that
though descriptions of sin may affect, the exhibition of its consequences may
affright, vehement censures of it may alarm, and reasoning concerning it may
open the gloomy road to despair, these methods alone will not convert. Law
without the gospel will harden, as the gospel without the law will only lead to
carelessness and presumption. It is the union of both that will possess the
sinner with loathing of himself, and love to God.

Still our danger in this age lies not so much in neglecting the gospel, as in
omitting to associate with it the preaching of the law. It is worthy of remark,
that Jesus Christ, who was incarnate love itself, the living gospel, yes the
way, the truth, the life—was the most alarming preacher that was ever in our
world. It is, however, incumbent upon us not to mistake severity for fidelity;
nor harshness for earnestness. The remarks of Mr. Hall on this, are as correct
as they are beautiful— "A harsh and unfeeling manner of denouncing the
threatenings of the Word of God, is not only barbarous and inhuman—but
calculated, by inspiring disgust, to rob them of all their efficiency. If the
dreadful part of our message, which may be styled the burden of the Lord, ever
falls with due weight upon our hearers—it will be when it is delivered with a
trembling hand and faltering lips." The look, the tone, the action, when such
subjects are discussed, should be a mixture of solemnity and affection; the
sobriety of love. To hear such topics dwelt upon in strong language, vehement
action, and boisterous tones—strikes me as being an utter violation of all
propriety, and is likely to excite horror and revulsion in every hearer of the
least discernment. Real earnestness is the result of deep emotion; and the
emotion excited by the sight of a fellow-creature perishing in his sins, is that
of the tenderest commiseration—which will express itself not in stormy
declamation and thundering denunciations—but in solemnly chastened admonition
and appeal.


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  CHAPTER 16: 02.03.     EARNESTNESS IN THE MANNER OF PREACHING
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EARNESTNESS IN THE MANNER OF PREACHING

I now pass from matter of preaching, to manner of preaching—and when I say
manner, I wish to be understood as including in that term, not simply the method
of communicating truth by voice and gesture—but the cast of thought and the
style of composition in reference to the truth enunciated. What is needed for
the pulpit is a vivacious, in opposition to a stiff, formal, and dull, method.
Style must of course, to a considerable extent, vary with the subject matter,
and be regulated by it. In exegetical preaching, or in that part of a sermon
which is merely expository, all that is required is calm perspicuity and a flow
of clear, simple, quiet thought—which shall instruct the understanding, and
gently draw after it the heart, without being intended or expected in any great
degree to move the passions. We have some beautiful specimens of this in the
elegant discourses of Dr. Wardlaw. Well would it be if, after his manner, we
could be clear without being pedantic; exegetical without being scholastic; and
invest exposition with charms which would make it attractive to all our
congregations. But though a careful analysis of the text should form the basis
of almost all our sermons, there must be something more than mere exegesis,
however clear, correct, and instructive. We have to do not only with a dark
intellect that needs to be informed—but with a hard heart that needs to be
impressed, and a torpid conscience that needs to be awakened! We have to make
our hearers feel that in the great business of godliness, there is much to be
done—as well as much to be known. We must impart knowledge, for light is as
essential to the growth of piety in the spiritual world, as it is to the growth
of vegetation in the natural one. The analogy holds good in another point, we
must not only let in light—but add great and vigorous labor to carry on the
culture. We must therefore rise from exegesis into—exhortation, warning, and
admonition. The apostle’s manner is the right one, "Whom we preach, warning
every man and teaching every man in all wisdom, that we may present every man
perfect in Christ Jesus." We must not only direct—but impel our hearers. They
all know far more than they practice of the Bible—the head is generally far in
advance of the heart; and our great business is to persuade, to entreat, to
beseech. We have to deal with a dead, heavy, lethargic mind! Yes more, we have
to overcome a stout resistance, and to move a reluctant heart!

If all that was necessary to secure the ends of our ministry were to lay the
truth before the mind; if the heart were pre-disposed to the subject of our
preaching, then like the lecturer on science, we might dispense with the
hortatory manner, and confine ourselves exclusively to explanation. Logic
unaccompanied by rhetoric would then suffice. But when we find every sinner we
address, acting in opposition to the dictates of his judgment, and the warnings
of his conscience, as well as to the testimony of Scripture; sacrificing the
interests of his immortal soul to the vanities of the world, and the corruptions
of his heart; madly bent upon his ruin, and rushing to the precipice from which
he will take a fatal leap into perdition; can we, in that case, be satisfied
with merely explaining, however clearly, and demonstrating, however
conclusively, the truths of Scripture? Would we think it enough coldly to unfold
the sin of suicide, and logically to arrange the proofs of its criminality,
before the man who had in his hand the pistol or the poison with which he was
just about to destroy himself? Would a definition of the sin, however clear and
accurate, be enough in this case? Would we not entreat, expostulate, beseech?
Would we not lay hold of the arm uplifted for self-destruction, or snatch the
poison cup from the hand that was about to apply it to the lip? What are the
impenitent sinners to whom we preach—but individuals bent upon self-destruction,
not indeed the destruction of their bodies—but of their souls? There they are
before our eyes, rushing in their sins and their impenitence to the precipice
that overhangs the pit of destruction; and shall we content ourselves with
sermons, which however excellent they may be for elegance, for logic, for
perspicuity, and even for evangelism, have no hortatory power, no moving
tendency, none of the apostle’s beseeching entreaty? Shall we merely lecture on
theology, and deal out religious theories, to men, who with a flood of light
already pouring over them, care for none of these things?

It is a question of not a little difficulty, how far the rules and methods of
secular eloquence may be observed in the composition of sermons. The language of
the apostle in reference to his own preaching, has been thought to forbid all
elaboration; "Christ sent me to preach the gospel, not with wisdom of words,
lest the cross of Christ should be made of none effect." A right understanding
of his circumstances and ours, will show us that there are differences which
forbid too rigid and literal an application of this sentiment to our own case.
Miracles gave a potency to his preaching, which is lacking in ours. Besides, the
wisdom here forbidden was not the selection of the best words, and placing them
in the best order for the statement of divine truth—but that combination of
false philosophy and artificial rhetoric which were the usual practice of the
Grecian schools; what he forbade was such a method of setting forth evangelical
doctrine as would have brought it into conformity, both as to matter and manner,
with the fashionable systems of philosophy. Provided the effect of elaboration
is to make a sermon at once perspicuous and impressive, to give it power to
command the attention, and at the same time to instruct the judgment, engage the
affections, and awaken the conscience; to render the subject clearly understood,
and at the same time deeply felt, it cannot be too perfect. No preparation which
causes the hearer to forget the preacher, and to think only of himself and the
subject; which rivets attention, and makes every one feel that he is in the
presence not only of man—but of God; which declares the way of salvation so
clearly that the most obtuse understanding can comprehend it, and at the same
time so forcibly and touchingly that the dullest heart must feel it—cannot be
wrong. If a preacher of the power of Demosthenes were to arise, he would, and
must, carry that power into the pulpit, and ought to do so. But on the other
hand, an elaboration which makes it but too evident to every serious and
observant mind that it was the preacher’s aim not to convert souls—but to catch
the applause of the fashionable, the giddy, and the frivolous; which fills the
discourse with flowery diction and gaudy metaphors, with elegant declamations,
or startling figures, with fanciful descriptions, and beautiful pictures; which
though it takes the cross for its subject, almost instantly leaves it and runs
into the fields of poetry or the labyrinths of philosophy, for subtle arguments,
or sparkling and splendid illustrations; which to sum up all, exercises the
judgment or amuses the imagination—but never moves the heart, or calls the
conscience to discharge its severe and solemn functions—such preaching may
render a minister popular, secure him large congregations, and procure for him
the plaudits of the multitude; but where are the sinners converted from the
error of their way, and the souls saved from death? Verily if such a preacher
has his reward only in the applause of the multitude, whose object and aim were
as low as his own, it was what he sought, and all he sought, and let him not
complain if he gains this, and nothing else. From such preachers may God
Almighty preserve our churches, and may he give us men who better know their
business in the pulpit, and better do it! A simple style—as opposed to an
artificial and rhetorical style—is then essential to earnestness; for who can
believe that man to be intent on saving souls, who seems to have labored in his
study only to make his sermon as fine as glittering imagery and high sounding
diction could render it. I could as soon believe a physician to be intent on
saving his fellow-creatures from death, who, when the plague was sweeping them
into the grave, spent his time in scattering over his patients flowers or
perfumes, or writing his prescriptions in beautiful characters and classical
latin.

Affectation is bad enough anywhere; in the pulpit it is intolerable.

’Reasons’ are the pillars of the fabric of a sermon—but ’illustrations’ are the
windows which give the best light.

"If we were compelled to give a brief definition of the truest style of
eloquence, we should say it was ’practical reasoning,’ animated by strong
emotion; or if we might be indulged in what is rather a description than a
definition of it, we should say that it consisted in reasoning on topics
calculated to inspire a common interest, expressed in the language of ordinary
life, and in that brief, rapid, familiar style, which natural emotion ever
assumes. The former half of this description would condemn no small portion of
the compositions called sermons, and the latter half a still larger portion.

"We would not be misunderstood. It is far, very far, from our intention to speak
in terms of the slightest depreciation of the immense treasures of learning, of
acute learning, of profound imagination, of powerful controversy, which the
literature of the English pulpit exemplifies. In these points it cannot be
surpassed. In vigor and originality of thought, in argumentative power, in
extensive and varied erudition, it as far transcends all other literature of the
same kind, as it is deficient in the qualities which are fitted to produce
popular impression. We merely assert that the greater part of ’sermons’ are not
at all entitled to the name, if by it be meant discourses especially adapted to
the object of instructing, convincing, or persuading the common mind."

After some admirably judicious remarks on the topics of the pulpit, designed to
prove that these should be such as are calculated to inspire a common interest
in the mass of a common audience, the writer goes on to speak of the manner of
discussing them, and observes—

"Where the topics are not such as are fairly open to censure, a large class of
preachers, especially among the young, grievously err by investing them with the
technicalities of science and philosophy; either because they foolishly suppose
they thereby give their compositions a more philosophical air, or because they
disdain the homely and the ordinary." So harmonious are the judgments, on the
best style of preaching, of two writers belonging to very different schools of
literature and religion, whose keen sarcasm it may be hoped will correct the
pedantry at which it is aimed, and convince many an ’ambitious aspirant after
popularity’ that whatever methods may secure the applause of the frivolous and
the ignorant—simplicity is the only way to attain usefulness and to secure the
approbation of the serious, the wise, and the godly. An affectation of learning
and science in the pulpit, is not only a sin against good taste—but betrays an
utter lack of that watching for immortal souls, which is or ought to be, the
preacher’s steady and constant aim. To borrow the homely—but forcible language
of Doolittle,

"The eyeing of eternity should make us ministers painful and diligent in our
studies to prepare a message of such weight as we come about, when preaching to
men concerning everlasting matters, and should especially move us to be plain in
our speech, that even the capacity of the weakest in the congregation, that has
an eternal soul that must be damned or saved, might understand in things
necessary to salvation, what we mean, and aim, and drive at. It has made me
tremble to hear some soar aloft, that knowing men might praise their
’abilities’, while the common people are kept from the knowledge of it; and put
their matter in such a dress of words, in such a style, so composed, that the
most stand looking at the preacher in the face, and hear a sound—but know not
what he says; and while he does pretend to feed them, does indeed starve them.
Would a man of any compassion go from a prince to a condemned man, and tell him
in such a language that he should not understand the condition upon which the
prince would pardon him, and then the poor man lose his life because the proud
and haughty messenger must show his cleverness in delivering his message in
polished English, which the condemned man could not understand?"

I shall introduce here a quotation from that great master of chaste eloquence,
Robert Hall; whose opinion on any subject—but especially on that of the art of
preaching, in which he was himself so extraordinary a proficient, is entitled to
peculiar deference.

"A great diversity of talents must be expected to be found among the evangelical
clergy. As they are called for the most part, to address the middle and lower
classes of society, their language is plain and simple—speaking in the presence
of God, their address is solemn; and, ’as becomes the ambassadors of Christ,’
their appeals to the conscience are close and cogent. Few, if any, among them
aspire to the praise of learned orators—a character which we despair of ever
seeing associated, in high perfection, with that of a Christian teacher. The
minister of the gospel is called to declare the testimony of God, which is
always weakened by a profuse employment of the ornaments of secular eloquence.
Those exquisite paintings and nice touches of art, in which the sermons of the
French preachers excel so much, excite a kind of attention, and produce a
species of pleasure, not in perfect accordance with devotional feeling. The
imagination is too much excited and employed, not to interfere with the more
awful functions of conscience; the hearer is absorbed in admiration for the
preacher, and the exercise which ought to be an instrument of conviction,
becomes a feast of taste. In the hand of a Massillon, the subject of death
itself is blended with so many associations of the most delicate kind, and calls
up so many sentiments of natural tenderness, as to become a source of theatrical
amusement, rather than of holy sensibility. Without being insensible to the
charms of eloquence, it is our decided opinion that a sermon of Mr. Gisborne’s
is more calculated to ’convert a sinner from the error of his way,’ than one of
Massillon’s. It is a strong objection to a studied attempt at oratory in the
pulpit, that it usually induces a neglect of the peculiar doctrines of Christian
truth, where the preacher feels himself restrained, and is under the necessity
of explaining texts, of obviating objections, and elucidating difficulties,
which limit the excursions of imagination, and confine it within narrow bounds.
He is therefore eager to escape from these fetters, and, instead of ’reasoning
out of the Scriptures,’ expatiates in the flowery fields of declamation." A lack
of powerful, eloquent, yet simple and sincere exhortation—is among the greatest
deficiencies of the modern pulpit. Let any one read the sermons of our great
nonconformist predecessors, Clarkson, Doolittle, Manton, Howe, Owen, Bates,
Flavel, and especially Baxter, and mark the all but overwhelming force of
persuasion which is put forth in the application of their discourses; let him
see how these great men exerted the mightiness of their strength to make all
they said to the judgment, reach the heart and awaken the conscience. And to
come to more modern times, let him read the sermons of Whitfield, Jonathan
Edwards, and Davies of New Jersey; and to advance to still more modern
productions, let him peruse the sermons of Parsons, Chalmers, and the best
preachers on the other side of the Atlantic, Spring, Barnes, Skinner, Beecher,
Griffin, Clarke, and Sprague—also Robert Hall’s sermon on "Marks of Love to
God," and Bradley’s sermon on "Our Lamps are Gone Out," for fine specimens of
this hortatory method; this bearing down with the whole power of the truth on
the sinner’s heart and conscience; this beseeching men to be reconciled to God.
Some specimens of this method will be given in the following chapter. This is
earnestness in preaching—when it is evident to the hearer that the preacher
feels the truths he discusses; when it is manifest to all that he believes what
he says, in affirming that his hearers are sinking into perdition, and that he
is laboring to persuade them to forsake their evil courses—when his sermons are
full of close, pointed, personal addresses; when, in short, through the whole
discourse, he is seen moving onward from the understanding to a closer and
closer approximation to the heart in the conclusion, and the hearer feels at
length his hand seizing him with a mysterious and resistless power, and bearing
him away, almost whether he will or not—to Christ, salvation, and heaven. The
conviction of the judgment is not the ultimate object of good preaching; though
it is the chief, if not the exclusive end of some preachers, if we are to judge
by their manner of preaching; but they ought to know that the persuasion of the
heart does not follow as a matter of course; that has still to be effected, and
they have to undertake it as a distinct purpose, and to aim at it with a
different sort of skill, and with a different instrumentality from that by which
they chiefly work. ’Compel them to come in’, was the method prescribed to the
servants of the Lord who made a great feast, and sent out his invitations to the
poor and needy. It is this compulsion we lack; this earnest entreaty, this
laying hold of the sinner, and making him feel that his salvation is with us an
object of intense desire—and that we shall be bitterly disappointed if it is not
accomplished.


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  CHAPTER 17: 02.04.     ILLUSTRATIONS OF EARNESTNESS
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ILLUSTRATIONS OF EARNESTNESS collected from various authors

Familiar as most readers of this work are with examples of the kind of manner
intended, it will help to illustrate and enforce its nature, if a few extracts
from different authors are here introduced, by way of specimens. Those which are
here presented are not selected as possessing anything very extraordinary, or as
being the best of the kind that could be selected from the same authors; but
they are sufficient to answer the purpose. Nor are they exhibited as models, to
be in every particular imitated in modern composition—but as being pervaded by
that one quality of intense earnestness, which it is the object of this work to
recommend. The first extract which shall be quoted is from a sermon of Mr.
Doolittle. This eminent minister of Christ was ejected by the Act of Uniformity
in 1662. He was a man of extraordinary courage, power, and success, in
preaching; and, after his expulsion from his living, educated young men for the
ministry. The extract which follows is taken from a discourse contained in that
valuable series called "The Morning Exercises," and is entitled "How we should
eye Eternity, so that it may have its influence on all we do." It is perhaps the
most solemn sermon in the English or any other language; it is sadly overcharged
with terminology, which should be sparingly introduced, though it ought not to
be altogether excluded from the pulpit, even in this fastidious age. The sickly
sentimentalism which would "never mention hell to ears polite," should be
renounced with as much disgust, as gross familiarity with such solemn realities.
It was not only Doolittle’s fault—but it was the vice of the age, to approach
somewhat too near to the latter extreme. But then, after this admission is made,
let us look at the burning and overwhelming earnestness of the sermon.

"Is there an eternal state—such unseen eternal joys and torments? Who then can
sufficiently lament the blindness, madness, and folly of this perishing world,
and the unreasonableness of those that have rational and eternal souls, to see
them busily employed in the matters of time, which are only for time—in present
honors, pleasures, and profits, while they do neglect everlasting things!
Everlasting life and death is before them, everlasting joy or torment is near at
hand; and yet poor sinners take no care how to avoid the one, or obtain the
other. Is it not matter of lamentation to see so many thousands bereaved of the
sober serious use of their minds? That while they use their reason to get the
riches of this world, they will not act as rational men to get the joys of
heaven! They will avoid temporal calamities—yet not escape eternal misery. Or if
they be fallen into present afflictions, they contrive how they may get out of
them if they be sick, reason tells them they must use the means if they would be
well—if they be in pain, nature puts them on to seek after a remedy. And yet
these same men neglect all duty, and cast away all care concerning everlasting
matters. They are for worldly pleasures and profits which are passing from them
in the enjoyment of them; but the unseen eternal glories of heaven they neither
seek, nor think of.

"Are they unjustly charged? Let conscience speak what thoughts they lie down
with upon their pillow; if they wake, or sleep flies from them in the silent
night, what a noise does the care of the world make in their souls? With what
thoughts do they rise in the morning? Of God, or of the world? Of the things of
time, or of eternity? Their thoughts are in their shops before they have been in
heaven; and many desires after visible temporal gain, before they have had one
desire after the invisible, eternal God, and treasures that are above. What do
they do all the day long? What is it that has their endeavors, all their labor
and time? Their most painful industry and unwearied diligence? Alas! their
consciences will tell themselves, and their practices tell others, when there is
trading—but no praying; buying and selling—but no godly duties performed—the
shop-book is often opened—but the sacred book of God is not looked into all the
week long.

"O Lord! forgive the hardness of my heart that I can see such insufferable folly
among reasonable creatures, and can lament this folly no more—good Lord, forgive
the lack of compassion in me that can stand and see this madness in the world,
as if the most of men had lost their wits and were quite beside themselves, and
yet my affections yearn no more towards immortal souls that are going to unseen
miseries in the eternal world; to see foolish, unthinking men busy in doing
things that tend to no account, is not such an amazing sight as to see men that
have reason for the world, to use it not for God, and Christ, and their own
eternal good—to see them love and embrace a present ash-heap world, and cast
away all serious, affecting, and effectual thoughts of the life to come—to see
them rage against the God of heaven, and cry out against holiness as foolish
preciseness, and serious godliness as madness and melancholy.

"Let us call the whole creation of God to lament and bewail the folly of man
that was made the best of all God’s visible works—but now by such wickedness is
bad beyond them all; being made by God for an everlasting state, and yet minds
nothing less than that for which he was principally made.

"O sun! why is it not your burden to give light to men to do those works and
walk in those ways that bring them to eternal darkness? O earth! why do you not
groan to bear such burdensome fools that dig into your mines for gold and
silver, while they neglect everlasting treasures in the eternal world? O you
sheep and oxen! fish and fowl! why do you not cry out against those who take
away your life to maintain them in being—but only mind present things—but forget
the eternal God that gave them dominion over you, to live upon you, while they
had time to mind eternal things—but do not? O you angels of God, and blessed
saints in heaven, were you capable of grief and sorrow, would not you bitterly
lament the sin and folly of poor mortals upon earth? Could you look down from
that blessed place where you do dwell and behold the joy and glory which is to
us unseen, and see how it is basely slighted by the sons of men, if you were not
above sorrow and mourning, would not you take this up for a bitter lamentation?
O you saints on earth! whose eyes are open to see what the blind deluded world
does not see—let your heads be fountains of water, and your eyes send forth
rivers of tears for the great neglect of eternal joys and happiness of heaven.
Can you see men going out of time into eternity in their sin and in their blood,
in their guilt and unconverted state, and your hearts not be moved? your
affections not yearn? Have you spent all your tears in bewailing your own sin,
that your eyes are dry when you behold such monstrous madness and unparalleled
folly of so many, with whom daily you converse? You holy parents, have you no
pity for your ungodly children? Godly children, have you no pity for your
ungodly parents?" The next extract I shall present is from holy Baxter, under
whose ministry Doolittle was converted, and from whom he appears to have
borrowed his own manner of preaching.

"O sirs, they are no trifles or jesting matters that the gospel speaks of. I
must tell you that when I have the most serious thoughts of these things, I am
ready to wonder that such amazing matters do not overwhelm the souls of men—that
the greatness of the subject does not so overmatch our understandings and
affections as even to drive men besides themselves—but that God has always
somewhat allayed it by distance; much more do I wonder that men should be so
blockish as to make light of such things. O Lord, that men did but know what
everlasting glory and everlasting torments are! Would they then hear us as they
do? Would they read and think of these things as they do? I profess I have been
ready to wonder when I have heard such weighty things delivered, how people can
forbear crying out in the congregation; and much more do I wonder how they can
rest until they have gone to their ministers, and learned what they shall do to
be saved, that this great business should be put out of doubt. O that heaven and
hell should have no greater effect upon men! O that eternity should effect them
no more! O how can you forbear when you are alone—to think with yourselves what
it is to be everlasting in joy or torment! I wonder that such thoughts do not
break your sleep, and that they do not crowd into your minds when you are about
your labor! I wonder how you can almost do anything else! How can you have any
quietness in your minds? How can you eat, or drink, or rest, until you have got
some ground of everlasting consolations? Is that a man or a corpse that is not
affected with matters of this significance; that can be readier to sleep than to
tremble when he hears how he must stand at the judgment bar of God? Is that a
man, or a ’clod of clay’ who can rise up and lie down without being deeply
affected with his everlasting state; who can follow his worldly business and
make nothing of the great business of salvation or damnation, and that when he
knows it is so near at hand?

"Truly, sirs, when I think of the weight of the matter, I wonder at the best
saints upon earth—that they are no better, and do no more, in so weighty a case.
I wonder at those whom the world accounts more holy than necessary, and scorns
for making so much ado, that they can put off Christ and their souls with so
little; that they do not pour out their souls in every prayer; that they are not
more taken up with God; that their thoughts are not more serious in preparation
for their last account. I wonder that they are not a thousand times more strict
in their lives, and more laborious and unwearied for the crown of glory, than
they are. And for myself, as I am ashamed of my dull and careless heart, and of
my slow and unprofitable course of life, so the Lord knows I am ashamed of every
sermon that I preach—when I think what I am, and who sent me, and how much the
salvation and damnation of men is concerned in it, I am ready to tremble lest
God should judge me a slighter of the truth and the souls of men, and lest in my
best sermons I should be guilty of their blood. Methinks we should not speak a
word to men in matters of such consequence without tears, or the greatest
earnestness that possibly we can. Were we not too much guilty of the sin which
we reprove, it would be so. Whether we are alone or in company, methinks our
end, and such an end, should still be in our mind, and as before our eyes; and
we should sooner forget anything, or set light by anything, or by all things,
than by this." The next extract is from John Howe. "If anyone does not love the
Lord--a curse be on him." 1 Corinthians 16:22. Oh! what a soul have I—which can
love anything else, which can love trifles, which can love impurities, which can
love sin; but cannot love God, Christ, and heaven! Oh! What a soul have I! No
lover of God! no lover of God! Oh my soul, what will become of you? Pity
yourself! Where are you to have your eternal abode? To what regions of horror
and woe are you going? What society can be fit for you? What, but of infernal,
accursed spirits, who are at utmost distance from God, and to whom no beam of
holy vital light shall ever shine to all eternity! You, oh my soul, are
self-abandoned to the blackness of darkness forever! Your doom is in your bosom,
your own bosom! Your not loving God is your own doom, your eternal doom! It
creates you a present hell, and shows where you belong! The next extract is from
Jonathan Edwards sermon, on "Pressing into the Kingdom of God." This
extraordinary man presents a remarkable proof and illustration of the most acute
logician and the most earnest preacher. His sermons are some of the most
impressive and alarming we have—but certainly not a little lacking in the
tenderness and melting pathos of the gospel of salvation. They may be read with
admirable effect to teach us how to expound the nature and enforce the
obligations of the moral law so as to awaken the slumbering conscience of the
unconverted sinner. His astonishing usefulness shows the adaptation of his
preaching to the age and state of society in which he lived—but this method
could not be rigidly followed, except in its earnestness, in the present day.

"1. I would address myself to such as yet remain unawakened. It is a dreadful
thing that there should be any one person remaining secure among us at such a
time as this; but yet it is to be feared that there are some of this sort. I
would here a little expostulate with such people.

"When do you expect that it will be more likely that you shall be awakened and
wrought upon than now? You are in a Christless condition; and yet without doubt
intend to go to heaven; and therefore intend to be converted some time before
you die; but this is not to be expected until you are first awakened, and deeply
concerned about the welfare of your soul, and brought earnestly to seek God’s
converting grace. And when do you intend that this shall be? How do you lay
things out in your own mind, or what projection have you about this matter? Is
it ever so likely that a person will be awakened, as at such a time as this? How
do we see many who before were secure, now roused out of their sleep, and
crying, What shall I do to be saved? But you are yet secure! Do you flatter
yourself that it will be more likely you should be awakened when it is a dull
and dead time? Do you lay matters out thus in your own mind, that though you are
senseless when others are generally awakened, that yet you shall be awakened
when others are generally senseless? Or do you hope to see another such time of
the pouring out of God’s Spirit hereafter? And do you think it will be more
likely that you should be wrought upon then than now? And why do you think so?
Is it because then you shall be so much older than you are now, and so that your
heart will be grown softer and more tender with age, or because you will then
have stood out so much longer against the calls of the gospel, and all means of
grace? Do you think it more likely that God will give you the needed influences
of his Spirit then than now, because then you will have provoked him so much
more and your sin and guilt will be so much greater? And do you think it will be
any benefit to you to stand it out through the present season of grace, as proof
against the extraordinary means of awakening there are? Do you think that this
will be a good preparation for a saving work of the Spirit hereafter?

"2. What means do you expect to be awakened by? As to the awakening solemn
things of the Word of God, you have had those set before you times without
number, in the most moving manner that the preachers of the word have been
capable of. As to particular solemn warnings, directed to those that are in your
circumstances, you have had them frequently, and have them now from time to
time. Do you expect to be awakened by solemn providences? Those also you have
lately had, of the most awakening nature, one after another. Do you expect to be
moved by the deaths of others? We have lately had repeated instances of these.
There have been deaths of old and young—the year has been remarkable for the
deaths of young people in the bloom of life, and some of them very sudden
deaths. Will the conversion of others move you? There is indeed scarce anything
that is found to have so great a tendency to stir people up as this; and this
you have been tried with of late in frequent instances; but are hitherto armored
against it. Will a general pouring out of the Spirit, and seeing a concern about
salvation among all sorts of people, do it? This means you now have—but without
effect. Yes, you have all these things together; you have the solemn warnings of
God’s word, and solemn instances of death, and the conversion of others, and see
a general concern about salvation; but altogether do not move you to any great
concern about your own precious, immortal, and miserable soul. Therefore
consider by what means it is that you expect ever to be awakened.

"You have heard that it is probable some who are now awakened, will never obtain
salvation; how dark then does it look upon you who remain stupidly unawakened!
Those who are not moved at such a time as this, come to adult age, have reason
to fear whether they are not given up to judicial hardness. I do not say they
have reason to conclude it—but they have reason to fear it. How dark does it
look upon you, that God comes and knocks at so many people’ doors, and misses
yours! that God is giving the strivings of his Spirit so generally among us,
while you are left senseless!

"3. Do you expect to obtain salvation without ever seeking it? If you are
sensible that there is a necessity of your seeking in order to obtaining, and
ever intend to seek, one would think you could not avoid it at such a time as
this. Inquire therefore whether you intend to go to heaven, living all your days
a secure, negligent, careless life; Or,

"4. Do you think you can bear the damnation of hell? Do you imagine that you can
tolerably endure the devouring fire and everlasting burnings? Do you hope that
you shall be able to grapple with the vengeance of God Almighty, when he girds
himself with strength, and clothes himself with wrath? Do you think to
strengthen yourself against God, and to be able to make your part good with him?
1 Corinthians 10:22, ’Do we provoke the Lord to jealousy? are we stronger than
he?’ Do you flatter yourself that you shall find out ways for your ease and
support, and to make it out tolerably well, to bear up your spirit in those
everlasting burnings that are prepared for the devil and his angels? Ezekiel
22:14. ’Can your heart endure or can your hands be strong, in the days that I
shall deal with you?’ It is a difficult thing to conceive what such Christless
people think, that are unconcerned at such a time." The following extract is
from that first of all preachers, Whitfield; and who that considers the
circumstances under which these flaming words were enunciated, and the feeling
and action which accompanied their delivery, can wonder at the effects they
produced?

"O my brethren, my heart is enlarged towards you. I trust I feel something of
that hidden but powerful presence of Christ, while I am preaching to you. Indeed
it is sweet, it is exceedingly comfortable. All the harm I wish you, who without
cause are my enemies, is, that you felt the like. Believe me, though it would be
hell to my soul to return to a natural state again, yet I would willingly change
states with you for a little while, that you might know what it is to have
Christ dwelling in your hearts by faith. Do not turn your backs; do not let the
devil hurry you away; be not afraid of convictions; do not think worse of the
doctrine because preached outside the church walls. Our Lord, in the days of his
flesh, preached on a mountain, in a ship, and in a field; and I am persuaded
many have felt his gracious presence here. Indeed, we speak what we know.

"Do not reject the kingdom of God against yourselves; be so wise as to receive
our witness. I cannot, I will not, let you go; stay a little, let us reason
together. However lightly you may esteem your souls, I know our Lord has set an
unspeakable value on them. He thought them worthy of his most precious blood. I
beseech you therefore O sinners, be reconciled to God. I hope you do not fear
being accepted in the Beloved. Behold, he calls you—behold, he goes before, and
follows you with his mercy, and has sent forth his servants into the highways
and hedges, to compel you to come in. Remember then, that at such an hour of
such a day, in such a year, in this place, you were all told what you ought to
think concerning Jesus Christ. If you now perish, it will not be for lack of
knowledge—I am free from the blood of you all. You cannot say I have, like legal
preachers, been requiring you to make bricks without straw. I have not bidden
you to make yourselves saints, and then come to God; but I have offered you
salvation on as cheap terms as you can desire. I have offered you Christ’s whole
wisdom, Christ’s whole righteousness, Christ’s whole sanctification and eternal
redemption, if you will but believe on him. If you say you cannot believe, you
say right; for faith, as well as every other blessing, is the gift of God—but
then wait upon God, and who knows but he may have mercy upon you?

"Why do you not entertain more loving thoughts of Christ? Or do you think he
will have mercy on others, and not on you? But are you not sinners? And did not
Jesus Christ come into the world to save sinners? If you say you are the chief
of sinners, I answer, that will be no hindrance to your salvation; indeed it
will not, if you lay hold on him by faith. Read the evangelists, and see how
kindly he behaved to his disciples, who fled from and denied him—’Go tell my
brethren,’ says he. He did not say, Go tell those traitors—but ’Go tell my
Brethren, and Peter;’ as though he had said, ’Go tell my brethren, in general,
and poor Peter in particular, that I am risen.’ O comfort his poor drooping
heart, tell him I am reconciled to him; bid him weep no more so bitterly; for
though with oaths and curses he thrice denied me, yet I have died for his sins,
I am risen again for his justification; I freely forgive him all.

"Thus slow to anger and of great kindness was our all-merciful High Priest. And
do you think he has changed his nature, and forgets poor sinners, now he is
exalted on the right hand of God? No, he is the same yesterday, today, and
forever, and sits there only to make intercession for us. Come then, you
harlots; come, you publicans; come, you most abandoned of sinners, come and
believe on Jesus Christ. Though the whole world despises you and casts you out,
yet he will not disdain to take you up. O amazing, O infinitely condescending
love! even you he will not be ashamed to call his brethren. How will you escape,
if you neglect such a glorious offer of salvation? What would the damned
spirits, now in the prison of hell, give, if Christ was so freely offered to
their souls! And why are not we lifting up our eyes in torments? Does any one
out of this great multitude dare say, he does not deserve damnation? If not, why
are we left, and others taken away by death? What is this but an instance of
God’s free grace, and a sign of his good-will towards us? Let God’s goodness
lead us to repentance! O let there be joy in heaven over some of you repenting!

"Though we are in a field, I am persuaded the blessed angels are hovering now
around us, and do long, ’as the hart pants after the water-brooks,’ to sing an
anthem at your conversion. Blessed be God, I hope their joy will be fulfilled. A
dreadful silence appears among us. I have good hope that the words which the
Lord has enabled me to speak in your ears this day, have not altogether fallen
to the ground. Your tears and deep attention are an evidence that the Lord God
is among us of a truth. Come you pharisees, come and see, in spite of your
fanatical rage and fury, the Lord Jesus is getting himself the victory. And,
brethren, I speak the truth in Christ, I lie not—if one soul of you by the
blessing of God be brought to think savingly of Jesus Christ this day, I care
not if my enemies were permitted to carry me to prison, and put my feet fast in
the stocks, as soon as I have delivered this sermon. Brethren, my heart’s desire
and prayer to God is, that you may be saved. For this cause I follow my Master
outside the camp. I care not how much of his sacred reproach I bear, so that
some of you be converted from the error of your ways. I rejoice, yes and I will
rejoice. You men, you devils, do your worst—the Lord who sent will support me.
And when Christ, who is our life, and whom I have now been preaching, shall
appear, I also, together with his despised little ones, shall appear with him in
glory.

"And then what will you think of Christ? I know what you will think of him. You
will think him to be the fairest among ten thousand; you will then think and
feel him to be a just and sin-avenging Judge. Be then persuaded to kiss him lest
he be angry, and so you be banished forever from the presence of the Lord.
Behold I come to you as the angel did to Lot. Flee, flee for your lives! hasten!
linger no longer in your spiritual Sodom, for otherwise you will be eternally
destroyed. Numbers no doubt there are among you that may regard me no more than
Lot’s son-in-law regarded him. I am persuaded I seem to some of you as one that
mocks—but I speak the truth in Christ, I lie not; as sure as fire and brimstone
was rained from the Lord out of heaven, to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah, so surely
at the great day shall the vials of God’s wrath be poured on you, if you do not
think seriously of, and act agreeably to, the gospel of the Lord’s Christ.
Behold, I have told you before; and I pray God, all you that forget him may
seriously think of what has been said, before he plucks you away, and there be
none to deliver you!"

These extracts will illustrate what I mean by earnestness, better than any
language which I have employed or could select, and they appear to me to answer
well to the apostolic method of beseeching entreaty. I do not of course insist
that the pulpit should be restricted to the specific variety of preaching which
we designate the hortatory method, under which classification these specimens
must all be placed. There should be exegesis—as well as application;
exposition—as well as admonition. The judgment must be enlightened—in order that
the heart may be impressed, and the conscience awakened; and the believer
edified—no less than the sinner converted; and for this a less impassioned
strain of preaching will not only suffice—but will indeed be more appropriate.
Yet with regard to that portion of our public ministrations, and it should be no
small portion of it, which has reference to the conversion of the impenitent,
where shall we find better models on which to construct our sermons, than the
Doolittles, the Howes, the Baxters, and the Whitfields of former times—so far at
least as their intense earnestness is concerned.

It is true the moderns have improved upon these men in matters of taste, in
reference to which we do not of course hold them up for imitation. In their
numerous and complicated divisions and subdivisions, through which, as so many
little rills and channels, they poured the current of their thought, instead of
causing it to roll onward in the channel of their sermon with the majestic flow
of a noble river; in their quaintnesses and quirks; in their fanciful imagery
and uncouth diction; in the occasional vulgarity, in which some of them were but
too prone to indulge—they mark errors to be avoided. Yet even in reference to
some of these things, it may be affirmed, that though in their free and reckless
resort to every mode of stimulating attention, they were often betrayed into
great violations of taste—the very same audacity of genius often produced
felicities of imagery and diction, with which the ’blameless common place’ and
the ’accurate insipidity’ of many modern discourses will not bear any comparison
either for beauty or effect. For pregnancy of thought, for knowledge of the Word
of God, for raciness of style, for evangelical sentiment, for anatomy of the
human heart, for closeness of application, and especially for intensity of
feeling—where shall we find their equals? They preached to their congregations,
and not merely before them—they felt that the objects of their addresses were
immortal souls in danger of being lost, and knew their business in the pulpit
was to save those souls from perdition—they preached as if they expected there
and then to achieve the great work of conversion; and felt as if the eternal
destinies of their hearers were suspended on the manner in which they discharged
their duties, and as if they were to ascend the next moment after they had
finished their sermons to give an account of them at the bar of God. Do not the
extracts given, (and they are but a very inadequate sample of their works,) bear
out these assertions? The power they exhibit, the heart-searching appeals in
which they abound—are the very things now lacking!

There may be, and there should be, more of classic elegance, more of logical
arrangement, of theological precision, of vigorous and clear argumentation, than
we find in the old writers; but still, combined with this, there should also be
in our sermons, as there were in theirs, the pointed interrogation, the pungent
appeal, the bold figures, the gush of feeling, the forcible admonition, and the
tender invitation; now the gentle flow of deep, and solemn, and placid thought,
and then the torrent-rush of impassioned sentiment—the beautiful and harmonious
combination of reason, imagination, and affection; and all employed to carry out
the purpose for which the gospel is to be preached, even to win souls to Christ.

Especially should there be the direct personal address which characterizes all
the extracts which I have introduced. Our hearers must be made to feel that they
are not merely listening to the discussion of a subject—but to an appeal to
themselves—their attention must be kept up, and a close connection between them
and the preacher maintained, by the frequent introduction of the pronoun "you,"
so that each may realize the thought that the discourse is actually addressed to
him. Many preachers do not come near enough to their congregations. Those who
were privileged to hear Mr. Hall deliver, in his best days, some of his most
popular and powerful discourses, will not fail to recollect how strikingly he
combined the intense earnestness of the passages just quoted, with the chaste
and classic elegance of our best writers; and thus, considering the evangelical
strain of his preaching he may be said to have poured forth a torrent of the
water of life, clear as crystal. He reminded you of one, who in his yearnings
for the salvation of sinners seemed to feel that language was too feeble an
instrument for such a purpose and who, notwithstanding his sovereign command and
exquisite selection of terminology, was struggling to burst the barrier by which
words limit the communication of thought, in order that he might by a still more
direct method, reach and grasp the soul of his hearers.

There is, however, hope that our old theological writers will not be quite
forgotten or neglected, while such men as Professor Stowell, of Rotherham
College, employ their talents in writing prefaces to reprints of works such as
those of Thomas Adams, and lend their authority to recommend the perusal of such
monuments of sanctified genius. Beautifully and no less correctly has he said,
"As Edwards constrains to closeness of thought; as Howe inspires sublimity of
sentiment; as Bates lights up the soul with a soft and silvery light; as Owen
loads the mind with a harvest of rich knowledge; as Taylor cheers the
imagination with a vintage of delicious grapes; as Baxter fires the soul with
longings for salvation, first of ourselves and then of others; even so does
Adams lead to those springs of graphic power, of dramatic grandeur, and of
subduing pathos, which it is the fear of many are dried up. We believe they are
not. We cannot but think there are minds now opening on the solemn solemnities
of the Christian ministry, to whom this example will be inciting; let them look
at the things with their own eyes, ponder them in silent and lonely thought,
pray over the fruits of such meditations, until they kindle into living
pictures; and so let them pour out their feelings into the best words they can
find; there will then be no just complaint of the lack of power and originality
in the English pulpit."

Happy will it be for this, and for all coming ages, if the men of the present
day will study, with all the advantages, checks, and guides of modern
education—the divines of the seventeenth century—not indeed as models of style
or logic—but of intense earnestness; not as writers who should teach us in all
things how to think—but how to feel. I would not have the modern mind, so much
as the modern heart, cast in the mold of these great-hearted writers. Even their
theology is not to be rigidly copied; but O! their unction; their mighty power
of realization; their nearness to God; their views of eternity—so intent, so
clear, so piercing; their thorough understanding of the object of their
ministry, and their entire consecration of themselves to its solemn functions.
Oh that we could transcribe and make all these our own!


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  CHAPTER 18: 02.05.     EARNESTNESS IN THE DELIVERY OF SERMONS
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EARNESTNESS IN THE DELIVERY OF SERMONS

Demosthenes, on being asked what was the first excellence of an orator, replied,
"Delivery!" what the second, "Delivery!" what the third, "Delivery!" An
impressive admonition this, from such an authority, to all preachers, on the
importance of that part of our subject which we are now considering.

After the death of that seraphic man McCheyne, there was found upon his desk an
unopened note from one who had heard his last sermon, to this effect, "Pardon a
stranger for addressing to you a few lines. I heard you preach last Sabbath
evening, and it pleased God to bless that sermon to my soul. It was not so much
what you said, as your manner of speaking it, that struck me. I saw in you a
beauty of holiness I never saw before." This is only one instance out of ten
thousand, in which the earnestness of a preacher’s manner has secured that
attention to his matter, which would not otherwise have been paid to it. The
power of oratory has its foundations in the principles of our nature. It is not
merely that ideas are conveyed by articulate language through the ear to the
mind—but also that emotion is awakened by agreeable tones and pleasant
modulations of the voice. Hence the power of music—and what is human speech but
music? No instrument has ever yet been constructed which can emit sounds so
exquisitely moving as the human voice! Art is in this respect still below
nature. True it is that we must go to the best voices for this superiority; but
even in voices far below the best, there is an expression of the various
passions which no instruments can equal. All nations, therefore, savage as well
as civilized, have confessed the power of oratory, not only as a vehicle of
instruction—but as a means of impression. It is vain to pretend that matter is
or ought to be everything—and manner nothing. Truth, it may be said, ought to
make its own way, independently of the accompaniments of good elocution and
graceful action. So it should—but these things are necessary, in many cases, to
gain for it attention, and to secure that due consideration, without which it
can make no impression. Manner is, so to speak, the harbinger and herald of
matter, summoning the faculties of the soul to give audience to the truth to be
communicated, and holding the mind away from all other subjects, which would
divert the thoughts and prevent impression. It is not only the more illiterate
and feeble-minded, not only the multitude who are led by feeling more than by
reason, that are influenced by good oratory—but also men of the sturdiest
intellect, and of the most philosophic cast of mind. The soul of the sage as
well as of the savage, is formed with a susceptibility to the power and
influence of music, and therefore to the power and influence of elocution. The
importance of manner is consequently great, yes, far greater than either tutors
or preachers have been disposed to admit. It is true that a good voice is
necessary to good speaking—but not always to earnest speaking. Nature must do
much to make a graceful and finished orator; but in the absence of this, a man
of ardent mind, burning for the salvation of immortal souls, can, by an
impressive earnestness of manner, be a more intense and effective speaker,
notwithstanding naturally weak and unimpressive organs of speech—than the
possessor of the finest voice, if destitute of life and feeling in his delivery;
just as an exquisite performer can bring better music out of a bad instrument,
than a bad musician can out of a good one. What may be done, for supplying
deficiencies and correcting faults in elocution, where the mind is resolutely
bent upon accomplishing this, Demosthenes has taught us; and were a tenth part
of the pains taken by us to obtain a powerful and effective method of pulpit
address which this prince of orators bestowed that he might become an effective
speaker; did we exert the same determination to overcome every obstacle—we too
would be orators in our better cause. And if ambition or patriotism, prompted
Athenian and Roman orators to such studies and efforts for self-improvement;
ought not love for souls, and zeal for God, to prompt us to similar endeavors?
Did they cultivate elocution with such unwearied perseverance to counteract the
designs of Philip, or to defeat or destroy Cataline; and shall we not use it to
destroy the works of the devil, and to advance the kingdom of the Redeemer?

It is impossible not to observe how much the popularity of some preachers
depends upon their manner; they do not say better or more striking things than
other men—but they say them in a better and more striking manner. There is
passion in their tones, power in their looks, and gracefulness in their
gestures—which other men have never studied, and therefore have never acquired.
This was eminently the case with Whitfield, the greatest of preachers. Much of
the wondrous power of that extraordinary man lay in his voice and action. I have
already given an extract from his sermons to illustrate his manner as regards
style of composition—but who that never heard him, or indeed who that had, could
illustrate his manner of delivery? Think of such paragraphs as those just
quoted, delivered with an utterance appropriate to their nature; with an eye
melting into tears; a voice tremulous with emotion, shrill yet full, now
swelling into thunder, and then dying away again in soft whispers; one moment
adoring God, and the next piercing the sinner’s conscience with an appeal that
was as sharp arrows of the Almighty; at one time pouring out a stream of
impassioned pity for the sinner, and the next moment a torrent of burning
indignation against his sin; his very hands, and every gesture all the while
seconding his matchless elocution and seeming to help his laboring soul; all
this being not the trickery of an artificial rhetoric to catch applause—but only
the expression of his burning desire to produce conviction in his hearers; not
the acting of a man striving after popularity—but the spontaneous gushing forth
of a heart agonizing for the salvation of immortal souls! What oratory must that
have been which extorted from the skeptical and fastidious Hume the confession
that it was worth going twenty miles to hear; which interested the infidel
Bolingbroke; and warmed even the cold and cautious Franklin into enthusiasm? In
those discourses which roused a slumbering nation from the torpor of
lukewarmness, and breathed new life into its dying piety, you will find no
profound thought, no subtle reasoning, no philosophical disquisition; for these
never formed, and never can form, the staple of pulpit eloquence—but you will
find "thoughts that breathe, and words that burn," and that when delivered with
the magic of his wondrous voice, spoke, by the blessing of God, life into
thousands dead in trespasses and sins! The following account is from a letter of
Whitefield himself–

"For many years, from one end of the large London fair to the other, booths of
all kinds have been erected for performers, clowns, players, puppet shows, and
such like. With a heart bleeding with compassion for so many thousands led
captive by the devil at his will, on the day of the fair, at six o’clock in the
morning, I ventured to lift up a standard among them in the name of Jesus.

"Perhaps there were about ten thousand people in waiting, not for me--but for
Satan’s instruments to amuse them! When I mounted my field-pulpit, almost all
flocked immediately around it. I preached on these words, ’As Moses lifted up
the serpent in the wilderness, so shall the Son of Man be lifted up!’ They
gazed, they listened, they wept; and I believe that many felt themselves stung
with deep conviction for their sins. All was hushed and solemn.

"Being thus encouraged, I ventured out again at noon. What a scene! The fields,
the whole fields were ready for Beelzebub’s harvest! All Satan’s agents were in
full motion--drummers, trumpeters, singers, masters of puppet shows, exhibitors
of wild beasts, players, and so forth, all busy in entertaining their respective
audiences. I suppose there could not be less than twenty or thirty thousand
people. My pulpit was fixed on the opposite side, and immediately, to their
great dismay, they found the number of their attendants sadly lessened.

"Judging that like Paul, I would now be called as it were, to fight with beasts
at Ephesus, I preached from these words--’Great is Diana of the Ephesians!’ You
may easily guess that there was some noise among the craftsmen, and that I was
’honored’ with having a few stones, dirt, rotten eggs, and pieces of dead cats
thrown at me, while engaged in calling them from their favorite, but lying
vanities. My soul was indeed among lions--but the greatest part of my
congregation, which was very large, seemed for awhile to be turned into lambs.

"This encouraged me to give notice that I would preach again at six o’clock in
the evening. I came, I saw--but what? Thousands and thousands more than before,
if possible, still more deeply engaged in their unhappy diversions! One of
Satan’s choicest servants was performing, trumpeting on a large stage; but as
soon as the people saw me in my pulpit, I think all to a man left him and ran to
me. For a while I was enabled to lift up my voice like a trumpet, and many heard
the joyful sound.

"This Satan could not brook. The enemy’s agents made a kind of roaring at some
distance from our camp. At length they approached nearer, and one of the clowns
(attended by others, who complained that they had lost much money on account of
my preaching,) got up upon a man’s shoulders, and advancing near the pulpit
attempted to slash me with a long heavy whip several times--but always tumbled
down with the violence of his motion.

"Soon afterwards they got a marching band with drums, to pass through the
congregation. I ordered that passage might be made for them. The ranks opened,
while all marched through, and then closed again. Finding these efforts to fail,
a large group assembled together, and having got a large pole with their flag,
advanced towards us with steady and formidable steps, until they came very near
the skirts of our hearing, praying, and almost undaunted congregation. I prayed
to the Captain of our salvation for present support and deliverance. He heard
and answered; for just as they approached us with fearful looks--I know not
why--they quarreled among themselves, threw down their flag, and went their
way--leaving, however, many of their company behind, who before we were done,
were brought over to join the besieged party. I think I continued in praying,
preaching, and singing, (for the noise was too great at times to preach) for
about three hours.

"We then retired to the Tabernacle, with pockets full of more than a thousand
notes from people brought under concern for their souls, and read them amid the
praises and spiritual acclamations of thousands, who joined with the holy angels
in rejoicing that, in such an unexpected, unlikely place and manner--so many
sinners were snatched out of the very jaws of the devil!"

I venture to pronounce this the greatest achievement of elocution which the
history of the world presents, next to the splendid triumph of the apostle
Peter’s sermon over the murderers of Christ on the day of Pentecost. Who that
considers the spot on which Whitfield then stood; the scenes by which he was
surrounded; the discordant noises of the motley crew, which rung in his ears,
and the ears of his audience; who, in short, that recollects what the wild
uproar and the hurly burly of a popular London fair is, must not stand
astonished, first at the courage of the man who could erect his pulpit, and
preach a sermon in such a scene; and then still more at the marvelous success of
his effort in the conversion of hundreds of souls by that one discourse? What, I
ask, was the effect on the Athenians of the orations of Demosthenes, in rousing
them against Philip of Macedon, compared with this? The illustrious Greek had on
his side every advantage which the scenery, and the historic associations
connected with it, and the prepared mind of his audience, could give to his
splendid argument and declamation; but the Christian orator had to combat with,
and to triumph over, everything that seemed inharmonious with his theme, and
opposed to the accomplishment of his object—and what must have been the magic
power of that elocution which could blind the eyes of an audience to the sights,
and deafen their ears to the sounds so near them, and produce such fixedness of
attention, and such power of abstraction, as to leave them at liberty for those
processes of thought, which resulted in the conversion of hundreds to God! And
to what, in the way of instrumentality, shall we attribute this astonishing
effect—but to the power of his wonderful oratory, combined with the simplicity
and power of the truths he enforced? This fact has stood for a century upon
record, and yet we have been slow to learn from it the lessons which it is
adapted to teach, and among them, the effect produced by a commanding method of
address, in circumstances apparently the most unlikely for such a result. I am
not calling upon my brethren to imitate this daring attack upon the very citadel
of Satan—even Whitefield never, I believe, repeated it, and perhaps ought never
to have attempted it; but my object is to show the power of voice and action,
and the nature of pastoral earnestness.

We shall now contemplate another instance of the power of oratory, which if it
be less grand and commanding in itself, is perhaps more likely to be useful to
the readers of this little work, because it is an instance brought nearer to
their own times, and to the level of their own circumstances—I mean Spencer, of
Liverpool. In reference to this transcendent young preacher, Mr. Hall remarks,
"The writer of this deeply regrets his never having had an opportunity of
witnessing his extraordinary powers—but from all he has heard from the best
judges, he can entertain no doubt that his talents in the pulpit were unrivaled;
and that had his life been spared, he would, in all probability, have carried
the art of preaching to a greater perfection than it ever attained, at least in
England. His eloquence appears to have been of the purest stamp—effective, not
ostentatious; consisting less in the preponderance of any one quality requisite
to form a public speaker, than in an exquisite combination of them all; whence
resulted an extraordinary power of impression, which was greatly aided by a
natural and majestic elocution." In this last expression Mr. Hall has disclosed
much of the secret of Spencer’s popularity and usefulness; "a natural and
majestic elocution," this setting forth with simple and unaffected earnestness
of manner the grand doctrines of evangelical truth, accompanied as it was with a
most engaging countenance and form, constituted the charm, and led to the
success, of this most captivating preacher of modern times. Let the young
ministers of this age read his "Life and Remains," as published by his gifted
successor, Dr. Raffles; and also his posthumous sermons, which have been since
given to the world, and they will find nothing whatever of extraordinary genius;
no lofty eloquence, in the usual acceptance of that term; no profound thought;
no splendid imagery or diction—but they will meet at every step with the
doctrine of Christ crucified, set forth with manly vigor, in plain, perspicuous
language; the utterances of a mind well instructed in the way of salvation, and
of a heart overflowing with benevolence for the good of his fellow creatures. To
what then shall we attribute, under God, his success, not only in filling the
large town in which he lived, and the nation at large, with his fame—but (what
was infinitely more important in itself, and far more eagerly coveted by him,)
in bringing so many souls to Christ? There is but one answer to be given to
this, and that is, it was the fascination of his manner. He was in earnest. The
stream of his simple, elegant, though by no means profound thought, flowed forth
with a resistless impetuosity that carried away his hearers before it. There is
scarcely any more instructive lesson to be learned, or any more important
inference to be drawn from the short life of this young minister, so
mysteriously cut off at the very commencement of his career, than the vast
consequence of an animated manner of preaching the gospel.

I may here advert to another individual, who was considered to be, in a
particular way, one of the most impressive preachers of his time, the late Mr.
Toller, of Kettering. He also no doubt owed much of the effect which his sermons
produced, to his mode of address; and their effect proves that vehemence,
boisterousness, and vociferation, are not essential to earnestness and deep
impression; for nothing can be more calm and subdued, though nothing more
solemnly commanding, than his whole demeanor in the pulpit. His printed sermons
are characterized by strength of thought uttered in language of great
perspicuity, though not irradiated by any coruscations of brilliant genius. "A
noble simplicity and amiable grandeur," says Mr. Hall, with whom he lived on
terms of most intimate friendship, "were the distinguishing features of his
eloquence." There was an irresistible charm in his manner which threw a spell
over all his hearers, and fascinated alike the learned and the illiterate; he
made the latter to understand, and the former to feel. I never heard him but
once—but it was on a memorable occasion, the ordination of Mr. Robertson of
Stretton, at which Mr. Hall delivered the admirable charge afterwards published
under the title of "The Difficulties and Encouragements of the Christian
Minister."

It is impossible ever to forget, and equally so to describe, the effect produced
by two such preachers on such an occasion—it was the first time I ever heard
either of them, and the last that I ever heard Mr. Toller, and it almost seemed
as if I had never heard preaching before—both were excited no doubt, and
stimulated to do their best, not only by the occasion—but by the presence of
each other. The terms employed by Mr. Toller’s biographer were the most
appropriate that could be selected to describe his style and manner, "simplicity
and amiable grandeur." It was impossible not to listen; neither eye nor ear
played truant for a moment while he was preaching; his delivery was not the
rushing torrent of impassioned eloquence which gushed afterwards from the lips
of his distinguished fellow-laborer—but the majestic, silent flow of a noble
river. "In the power of awakening pathetic emotions," says Mr. Hall in his
Memoir, "he has excelled any preacher it has been my lot to hear. Often have I
seen a whole congregation melted under him like wax before the sun—my own
feelings on more than one occasion have approached to an overpowering agitation.
The effect was produced apparently with perfect ease. No elaborate preparation,
no peculiar vehemence or intensity of tones, no artful accumulation of pathetic
images, led the way—the mind was captivated and subdued, it hardly knew how.
Though it will not be imagined that this triumph of popular eloquence could be
habitual, much less constant, it may be safely affirmed that a large proportion
of Mr. Toller’s discourses afforded some indications of these powers." The
following is Mr. Hall’s description of the effect of two sermons preached in his
hearing by this eminent man.

"It was about this period (1796) that my acquaintance with him commenced. I had
known him previously, and occasionally heard him; but it was at a season when I
was not qualified to form a correct estimate of his talents. At the time
referred to, we were engaged to preach a double lecture; and never shall I
forget the surprise and pleasure with which I listened to an expository
discourse, from 1 Peter 2:1-25. The richness, the unction, the simple majesty
which pervaded his address, produced a sensation which I never felt before—it
gave me a new view of the Christian ministry. But the effect, powerful as it
was, was not to be compared with that which I experienced on hearing him preach
later at Bedford. The text which he selected was peculiarly solemn and
impressive his discourse was founded on 2 Peter 1:13-15, ’Yes, I think it
proper, as long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir you up, by putting you in
remembrance; knowing that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle,’ etc. The
effect of this discourse on the audience was such as I have never witnessed
before, or since. It was undoubtedly very much aided by the peculiar
circumstances of the speaker, who was judged to be far advanced in a deadly
illness, and who seemed to speak under the impression of its being the last time
he would address his brethren on such an occasion. The aspect of the preacher,
pale, emaciated, standing apparently on the verge of eternity, the simplicity
and majesty of his sentiments, the sepulchral solemnity of a voice which seemed
to issue from the shadows, combined with the intrinsic dignity of the subject,
perfectly quelled the audience with tenderness and terror, and produced such a
scene of audible weeping as was perhaps never surpassed. All other emotions were
absorbed in devotional feeling—it seemed to us as though we were permitted for a
short space to look into eternity, and every sublunary object vanished before
’the powers of the world to come.’

Yet there was no considerable exertion, no vehemence, no splendid imagery, no
magnificent description; it was the simple declaration of truth, of truth indeed
of infinite consequence, borne in upon the heart by a mind intensely alive to
its reality and grandeur. Criticism was disarmed; the hearer felt himself
elevated to a region which criticism could not penetrate; all was powerless
submission to the master-spirit of the scene. It will be always considered by
those who witnessed it, as affording as high a specimen as can be conceived, of
the power of a preacher over his audience, the habitual or even frequent
recurrence of which would create an epoch in the religious history of the
world." This description, even though some allowance should be made for the
eloquence of friendship, is replete with instruction to our rising ministers.
They may learn the vast importance of the manner in which a sermon is delivered,
as well as the matter of which it is composed. Nor is this the only lesson, nor
perhaps the most valuable one, to be learned from this short but precious piece
of pastoral biography; for we gather what it is that, to minds of the highest
order, such as Mr. Hall’s, constitutes the nearest approach to perfect pulpit
eloquence, and to which even such commanding intellects yield themselves up with
willing submission; not the ’artificial elaboration’ of men intent upon
producing a great sermon; not the ’bombastic sermon’ or ’splendid imagery’
sought with ambitious eagerness by those who aim to shine; not the cold,
abstract, philosophical reasoning of an academic professor—but the simplicity
and earnestness which aim to instruct the judgment, to awaken the conscience,
and to affect the heart.

All great minds love simplicity and detest affectation and pretense. This was
especially the case with Mr. Hall. His censure of the mental quality most
opposed to earnestness, amounted sometimes to eloquent extravagance and
burlesque—and his sarcasms were not infrequently tinged with uncharitable
bitterness. As his admiration of simplicity was occasionally expressed in
somewhat exaggerated panegyric. The ambition of a preacher whose aim is
usefulness might well be gratified by a remark which he once made after hearing
a sermon, "I should not wonder if a hundred souls were converted tonight?"

These are only a few out of innumerable instances which could be adduced to
prove the vast importance which attaches to an effective delivery. Far greater
numbers of our preachers fail for lack of this, than from any other cause; and
the fact is so notorious as to need no proof beyond common observation, and so
impressive as to demand the attention, not only of the professors—but the
committees, of all our colleges. It is too generally the case that adequate
culture is not bestowed upon the speaking powers of our students, from the
beginning to the end of their course of study. There is great assiduity
manifested in securing them fullness of matter—but far too little in giving them
impressiveness of manner. Assistance is granted to make them scholars,
philosophers, and divines; but as to becoming good speakers, they are, I fear,
left pretty much to themselves. No, it is not even inculcated upon them, with
the emphasis it should be, to try to make themselves such. A complete system of
pastoral education naturally includes great attention to elocution; and this
should commence as soon as a student enters college, so that by the time he is
put upon the preaching list, he may have some aptitude for the management of his
voice, and not have his thoughts diverted then from his matter and his object,
to his manner. He should by that time have acquired the habit of speaking well,
so as to be able to practice it with facility, and without study. The great
objection to lectures on elocution is, that they are apt to produce a pompous,
stiff, and affected manner; but this is an abuse of the art; its object should
be to cure the vices of a bad, and to supply the lacks of a defective
enunciation, and to form an easy, natural, and impressive delivery. When will
preachers learn that preaching is but talking in a louder tone, and with a
little more emphasis of manner? Why affect a preaching or a praying tone, a
method of speaking peculiar to the pulpit? A conversational manner, occasionally
elevated, animated, and energetic, as impassioned passages and feeling may
require, is what we want. There are some men who are good talkers out of the
pulpit, yet bad speakers in it. How much more acceptable would they be, if they
would carry their easy, natural manner of conversation with them into the sacred
desk!

I entirely concur therefore with Dr. Vaughan, in his important and impressive
remark, "that let our students fail in the matter of a good elocution, and so
far as regards their ministry among Protestant Dissenters, it will matter little
in what else they may succeed." This is sustained by a reference to the great
number we observe, who, though soundly orthodox in sentiment, possessed of large
acquirements in scholarship and philosophy, partaking of undoubted piety, and
desirous of doing good, yet make no way, can with difficulty procure a charge,
and are filled perhaps with wonder, that men very much their inferiors in
natural talent and literary acquirement, are every where followed, while they
are every where neglected. The problem is easily solved, the mystery soon
explained; these inferior men, by their earnest, animated manner, make their
more slender abilities tell more upon the popular mind, heart, and conscience,
than do the heartless dissertations and elaborate essays of dull scholars,
frigid philosophers; and bad speakers, though possessed of useless stores of
knowledge.

It should, however, be remarked, that there is nothing more likely to be
mistaken than animation in the pulpit. There are many young ministers, who,
being aware of the importance of a graceful and effective elocution, take no
small pains to acquire it, by studying and practicing the most approved rules of
the art. But it is not this alone for which we contend; for as the lessons of
the dancing master produce only stiff and formal action, where there is no
natural ease and elegance, so the teacher of elocution can do little to form an
earnest and energetic speaker, where there is no living source of animation in
the soul. It is not a pompous, swelling style of speaking that constitutes the
excellence of an orator; not "the start and stare theatric," not modulations of
the voice that sound as if the speaker were regulating tones and cadences by the
fugleman motions of a teacher standing before him; but the impassioned vivacity
of one who feels intensely his subject, and speaks under the influence of strong
emotion, as one determined to make others feel. The secret of animation, and the
source of earnestness, lie, as I have said, in an intense feeling of the subject
of discourse; in a mind deeply impressed, and a heart warmed, with the theme
discussed. All men are in earnest when they feel. Hence the anecdote of the
pleader, who was so disgusted with a client’s cold manner of stating her case,
as to tell her that he did not credit her tale. Stung by this reflection upon
her veracity, and this disbelief of her grievance, she rose into strong emotion,
and affirmed with expressive vehemence the truth of the story. "Now," said he,
"I believe you." The hackneyed but valuable precept of the old poet remains, and
ever will remain, as true as when first uttered, "Weep yourself, if you wish me
to weep." Sympathy is the speaker’s most powerful auxiliary—there is nothing so
contagious as strong emotion. We have most of us, perhaps, seen a large portion
of a congregation brought to tears by the pathetic and faltering tones, the
tremulous lips, and suffused eyes of the preacher. But then it must be sincere,
and not simulated emotion, must be excited by a subject worthy of it, and must
be shown when the people’s minds are prepared to sympathize with it. It is well
said there is only a step between the sublime and the ridiculous; and the same
remark may be applied to the pathetic, it may degenerate into mere puking.
Genuine emotion is the charm of all speaking upon moral and religious subjects,
and in the absence of it, the most measured and stately elocution, whatever
pleasure it may impart to the ear, will have little power to affect the heart.
We have sometimes listened to lofty and well composed music, to an overture for
instance, which we could not but admire; but it was still cold admiration, for
the whole piece had not a note of passion from beginning to end; but some simple
melody followed it, which by the pathos of its notes or the power of its
associations touched every chord in our hearts, and raised in us a tumult of
emotion. Thus it is with different preachers, we listen to one, whose excellent
composition, and sonorous, perhaps even musical voice, command our admiration;
but not a passion stirs, all within is cold, quiet, and without emotion, his
speaking is good—but it does not move us—while another has perhaps less talent,
indeed less oratory in one sense—but has tones, looks, and manner all full of
earnest feeling, and every word of his coming from his heart, awakens by
sympathy a correspondent state of feeling in our hearts. Who is likely to be
moved by hearing a man discuss the most solemn realities of eternal truth, such
as the danger and doom of impenitent sinners, the glories of heaven, and the
torments of hell, with as much coolness, and with as little emotion as a
lecturer on science would exhibit when dwelling on the facts of natural history?
Is it probable there can be any earnestness in the hearers, when there is none
in the preacher?

"How is it," said a minister to an actor, "that your performances, which are but
pictures of the imagination, produce so much more effect than our sermons, which
are all realities?" "Because," said the actor, "we represent fictions as though
they were realities, and you preach realities as though they were fictions." It
is difficult to believe that a dull, cold, statue-like preacher, whose
passionless monotony is a mental opiate for his hearers, can himself credit the
message he is delivering. What, that man who never elevates or depresses his
voice from one given pitch of soporific dullness, whose tone never falters,
whose eye never glistens, whose hand never moves, who speaks as if he was afraid
of awakening the slumberers whom his "drowsy tinklings" have lulled to sleep, he
feel the weight of souls; he in earnest for their salvation; he endeavoring to
pluck them as brands from the burning! Who will credit it? It is true he may
have no great compass of voice, and a naturally phlegmatic mind, with great
deficiency in the natural powers of oratory; but place him by the side of a
river where he has seen a fellow-creature fall into the water, and let him throw
a plank or a rope to aid the drowning man to escape, will he not have power of
voice, and of animated tones, and of persuasive earnestness then, as he directs
the object of his solicitude to the means of deliverance? Will he not rise out
of his monotony there? Will he not make himself heard and felt there? By an
earnest manner, then, is meant, the method of delivery produced by a deep and
feeling sense of the importance of our message. We are to persuade, to entreat,
to beseech; and these modes of speech have an utterance of their own. What must
Paul’s manner have been, how impassioned and impressive, when he made Felix
tremble, and Festus exclaim, "You are beside yourself, much learning does make
you mad!" But even the sublime and solemn truths of revelation, if they do not
press upon the heart of the preacher, and command and possess it, will be but
coldly handled and feebly discussed. It is only when the love of Christ
constrains us, and bears us away as with the force of a torrent, that we shall
speak with a manner befitting our great theme. If we are not intensely real, we
shall be but indifferent preachers. This shows us the vast importance of our
living under the powerful impression of the truths we preach. We cannot, like
the actor, have a stage dress and character to put on for the occasion, and to
put off when the curtain drops. There may indeed be an ’artificial earnestness’
excited by the sound of our own voice, and by the solemnities of public worship;
but this will usually be fitful, feeble, pretend, and very different from that
burning ardor which is the result of eminent piety, and which imparts its own
intensity of emotion to the words and tones of the speaker. It was the
patriotism of Demosthenes that communicated the fire to his eloquence—he loved
his country, and trembling for the ruin that Philip was bringing upon the
liberties of Greece, he poured forth his lightning-words in tones of thunder.
His diatribes were a torrent of the strongest emotion, bursting from his heart,
though guided in its course by the established rules of eloquence. He could
never have spoken as he did, had not the designs of the Macedonian and the
dangers of Greece, wrung his soul with anguish. So must it be with us, our
animation must be the earnestness, not of rhetoric—but of godliness; not of
art—but of renewed nature; and designed not to astound—but to convince and move;
a manner studied and intended not to attract a crowd, and to excite applause—but
to save the souls of men from eternal death! For this purpose whatever means we
employ and whatever rules we lay down, to cure the vices of a bad elocution, and
to acquire the advantages of a graceful one, (and such an aim is quite lawful,)
we must ever remember that the basis of a powerful and effective pulpit oratory
will be deep and fervent piety; and in the absence of godliness, the most
commanding gift of public speaking will be but as "sounding brass or a tinkling
cymbal."

Dr. Cotton Mather, in his invaluable work, now nearly forgotten, entitled, "The
Student and Preacher," in speaking on this subject, remarks—"It is a pity but a
well prepared sermon should be a well pronounced one. Wherefore avoid forever
all inanes and all indecencies; everything that is ridiculous. Be sure to speak
deliberately. Strike the accent always upon the word in the sentence it properly
belongs unto. A tone that shall have no regard to this is very injudicious, and
will make you talk too much in the clouds. Do not begin too high. Ever conclude
with vigor. If you must have your notes before you in your preaching, and it be
needful for you, let there be with you a distinction between the neat using of
notes, and the dull reading of them. Keep up the air and life of speaking, and
put not off your hearers with a heavy reading to them. How can you demand of
them to remember much of what you bring to them, when you remember nothing of it
yourself? Besides by reading all you say, you will so cramp and stunt all
ability for speaking, that you will be unable to make an acceptable speech on
any occasion. What I therefore advise you to is, let your notes be little more
than a guide, on which you may cast your eye now and then, to see what arrow is
to be next fetched from thence; and then with your eye as much as may be on them
whom you speak to, let it be shot away with a vivacity becoming one in earnest
for to have the truths well entertained by the auditory. Finally let your
conclusions be lively expostulations with the conscience of the hearer; appeals
made and questions put unto the conscience, and consignments of the work over
into the hands of that flaming preacher in the bosom of the hearer. In such
flames you may do wondrously."

Pity that Dr. Mather had not gone a little farther than this, and affectionately
advised his younger brethren in the ministry to begin their career without any
notes at all in the pulpit; advice still more necessary in this day, as there
seems a rising inclination to adopt the practice of reading. Nothing can be
conceived of more likely to repress earnestness, and to hinder our usefulness,
than this method becoming general. True it is that some preachers may rise up,
who, like a few living examples, may, in despite of this practice, attain to
eminence, honor, and usefulness, such as rarely fall to the lot of ministers in
any denomination; but this will not be the case with the greater number, who not
having commanding intellect to lift them above the disadvantage of this habit,
will find few churches willing to accept their dullness, for the sake of the
accuracy with which it is expressed. And who can tell us how much greater our
greatest men would be, if they delivered their sermons without their notes?
Think of Whitfield, Hall, Parsons, reading their sermons. What a restraint upon
their noble intellects and their gushing hearts! Where is reading tolerated but
in the pulpit? Not on the stage, nor at the bar, nor in the senate. It is
conceded that we lose something of precision and accuracy by spoken discourses,
as compared with those that are read—but is not this more than made up by what
we gain in ease and impression? The aid borrowed from the expressions of the
countenance and graceful action is lost by him who slavishly reads; the link of
sympathy between his soul and those of his audience is weakened; the lightnings
of his eloquence flash less vividly, and its thunders roll less grandly through
this obstruction. Perhaps even those who do read are aware of the disadvantages
of the habit, and would say to their younger brethren, whose habits are not yet
formed, avoid if you can, the practice of reading your discourses. There are
however occasions, when from the nature and extent of the subject, this practice
is not only allowable—but necessary. In connection with the subject of
preaching, I may consider, with propriety, the matter and manner of PRAYER.
There is a close and obvious connection between the two, for earnest sermons
should ever be associated with earnest prayers; and it cannot be doubted that a
godly, faithful, and devoted minister is scarcely less useful, at any rate in
keeping up the spirit of devotion in his congregation, by the latter, than by
the former. His chastened fervor, like a breeze from heaven, comes over the
languid souls of his hearers, and fans the spark of piety in their hearts to a
flame—while on the contrary, the dullness and coldness of some public prayers
are enough to freeze what little devotion there may be in the assembled people.
We have thought too little of this, and have too much neglected to cultivate the
gift, and to seek the grace, of supplication. If entreating and beseeching
importunity be proper in dealing with sinners for God, can it be less so in
dealing with God for sinners? Our flocks should be the witnesses of both these
acts on our part, and hear not only how we speak to them—but how we plead with
God for them; they should be the auditors of our agonizing intercession on their
behalf; and be convinced how true is our declaration that we have them in our
hearts. How such petitions, so full of intense affection and deep solicitude,
would tend to soften their minds, and to prepare them for the sermon which was
to follow! Who has not beheld the solemnizing and subduing effect upon a
congregation of such holy wrestling with God? The audience seemed to feel as if
God had indeed come down among them in power and glory during the prayer, and
was preparing to do some work of grace in their midst. The crudest and most
turbulent spirits have sometimes been awed, and the most trifling and frivolous
minds made serious, by this holy exercise. We who practice extemporary prayer
have advantages in this respect, of which we should not be slow to avail
ourselves. Not being confined by the forms of a liturgy—but left to our own
choice, we can give harmony to all the various parts of the service, and make
the scripture we read, and the hymns we sing, as well as the prayers we present,
all bear upon the subject of the sermon, and thus give unity of design, and
concentration of effect, to the solemn engagements of the sanctuary. This should
be an object with every minister, in order that the thoughts of the people may
flow pretty much in one channel, and towards one point, without being divided or
diverted. Moral, as well as mechanical effect depends upon the combination of
many seemingly small causes. But more especially should the prayers be in
harmony with the sermon, and every preacher knows what the sermon is to be. If
he is about to address himself in a strain of beseeching importunity to the
impenitent and unbelieving, how much would it tend to prepare them for his
appeal, if his heart were previously, in their hearing, to pour forth a strain
of fervent pleading with God on their behalf. They would thus be awed and
subdued into a state of mind likely to render the forthcoming sermon effectual,
by the blessing of God, for their conversion. Such a prayer would be the most
appropriate introduction he could give to his discourse. But then especial care
should be taken that the hymn, and even the tune, interposed between the prayer
and the sermon, should not be of a kind to divert the current of thought, much
less to efface the solemn impressions already produced, and hinder the effect of
the discourse about to be delivered. I remember to have heard a preacher, who
was going to preach a very solemn sermon, breathe out one of the most impressive
strains of intercession for the impenitent I ever listened to, as if anxious to
begin by his prayer the work of conversion, which he hoped to finish by his
sermon. The people sat down in solemn awe, when as if by the prompting of the
wicked One, who snatches away the seed of the word out of the heart, the leader
gave out a most inappropriate hymn, and the choir with a band of musical
instruments, sang a tune more inappropriate still. As may be easily imagined,
the seriousness produced by the preacher was instantly dissipated, and the
preparation for the sermon entirely destroyed. How true is it, that the singing
is often hostile to the usefulness of the pulpit, and the choir in opposition to
the efforts of the preacher! Finney, in his book on Revivals, descends to so
minute a specification of the circumstances to be attended to in preparing for a
revival, as to expose him to the ridicule of many of his readers, and no attempt
is made here to defend him, or to recommend his volume; but still there is true
philosophy in the spirit of his directions, which amounts to this; that the
effect of sermons, as indeed of all public speaking, depends often upon very
little things. Trifles have great power to divert the current of thought, to
break the chain of reflection, and to disturb the process of emotion. Everything
connected with public worship should be still, orderly, and solemn, as befits a
service conducted in the presence of God, and with reference to him.

Returning to the subject of prayer, it behooves every minister to take especial
care that this shall be conducted with propriety, not only on account of its
nature and design, as addressed to God, and as the medium of obtaining blessings
at his hand—but because of its moral effect upon the people. We object to
precomposed forms, (and we think on sufficient grounds,) as lacking in
adaptation to the ever changing circumstances of the congregation, to the events
of the time, and to the services of the minister, and as tending to produce
formalism; but we are bound to take care that all these benefits are secured by
our free prayers, and that they are in every respect adapted to edification. But
is there not room for much improvement in our public devotional exercises? In
some cases there is too much elaboration and appearance of study; though in far
more, a lack of richness and fullness of unction and importunity. The prayers
are often too excursive and vague, a mere string of petitions which have no
connection with each other, and are without unity of design, or definiteness of
object. There are some admirable remarks on the subject of extemporary prayer in
Foster’s sketch of Mr. Hall’s character as a preacher, which go to prove that
more concentration of thought on particular topics would produce a greater
effect than that unrestrained discursiveness which characterizes too many of our
devotional exercises. We pass too rapidly from one subject to another, and thus
as it were surprise our hearers, by their being brought to a new topic, before
they are aware that they had left the preceding one; and it may be safely
affirmed that it is very difficult to join in prayers which do not detain the
thoughts on certain things for a few moments. "Things noted so transiently do
not admit of deliberate attention, and seem as if they did not claim it." With
the liberty of unrestricted variety which we possess, why should it be thought
necessary to go always over the same ground, and to bring in the same topics, in
the same exact order, in much the same length, and in almost the same words? Why
may we not sometimes drop everything else, and break out into a continued strain
in reference to one continued object? How deeply the audience would be convinced
of the importance which we at any rate feel to belong to it, and how likely
would such a method be to engage them in deep sympathy with us, in reference to
it! We should also be careful to avoid addressing certain people in prayer—which
would excite curiosity or disturb devotion, and especially all laudatory
epithets on the one hand, and criminatory ones on the other. In using our
freedom, let us take care not to abuse it, and endeavor that the end and object
of our preaching may be helped, and not hindered, by the method of our praying.
If pre-composed forms of prayer have their disadvantages, so also has free
prayer; and while we consider the balance of advantage vastly in favor of the
latter, let us recollect that our brethren of the Establishment are of the same
opinion respecting their liturgy; it becomes us therefore while we charitably
bear with each other, each to make the best possible use of the method we
prefer. The MANNER of prayer, as well as its matter, demands also our serious
attention. While the very nature of the exercise forbids everything showy or
artificial; everything presumptuous and irreverent—and enjoins the utmost
simplicity and spirituality—it no less prohibits all flippancy, carelessness,
and pompous oratory. The most serious, reverent, and devotional manner is
required, not only on our own account—but on account of the audience. There are
some men whose very tones are enough to extinguish all devotional feeling at
once, and render it almost impossible to conceive that we hear a sinful mortal
addressing himself to the Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God, before whom the seraphim
veil their faces. While on the contrary there are others whose deeply devotional
air, subdued manner, and awe-stricken demeanor, remind us that they are indeed
speaking to the Almighty.

It is not necessary to suppose that earnestness requires boisterousness and
loudness; a mistake too commonly made by many who work themselves up into
vociferation and contortion of features. Such vehemence, like a violent blast of
wind, puts out the flame of devotion, when a gentler breeze would fan it to
intensity. It is well also to avoid that sing-song tone which we too often hear
in those who lead the public devotions. But above all there must be earnestness;
the earnestness of deep feeling, of lively devotion, of a heart intent upon its
own salvation, and upon the salvation of those who are then waiting to hear the
word of life. Our pleading, though in the highest degree reverential, should be
that of men who are standing between the living and the dead, subdued and
chastened, yet importunate intercession, such as it might be supposed we should
use in addressing an earthly monarch, when interceding for the lives of some for
whom we were anxious to obtain the interposition of royal mercy.


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  CHAPTER 19: 02.06.     EARNESTNESS IN THE PASTORATE
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EARNESTNESS IN THE PASTORATE This must by no means be omitted. The pulpit is the
chief—but not the only, sphere of pastoral solicitude and action—just as
preaching is God’s first—but not his exclusive, means of saving souls. Many
ministers have fallen into one or other of two opposite mistakes; one class have
thought to do everything in the pulpit as preachers, while they have neglected
the duties of the pastor; the others have purposed to do everything as
pastors—but have neglected the diligent preparation of their sermons. Of the two
errors the latter is the more mischievous, inasmuch as no pastoral devotedness,
however intense, will long keep together a congregation, much less collect one,
when the preaching is indifferent and unattractive. While on the other hand,
good preaching will of itself do much even in the absence of pastoral attentions
to keep the flock from being scattered. But why should not both extremes be
avoided? Good preaching and good shepherding are quite compatible with each
other, and he who is in earnest will combine both. He will be a watchman for
souls everywhere, and seek if by any and by all means he can save some. He can
never entirely lay aside his concern for the objects of his regard, and is ever
ready to manifest it on all suitable occasions. His sermons are composed and
delivered for this object, and he is afterwards inquisitive for the effect they
have produced, and watches and prays for the result. His anxious eye is
searching the congregation, even while preaching, to see, not who is
delighted—but who is seriously impressed. He will not, cannot, be content to go
on, without ascertaining whether or not his sermons are successful. Like a good
physician, who is watchful for the effect of his medicines upon his patients
individually, according to their specific varieties of disease, he will endeavor
to ascertain the impression which his sermons have produced on particular
people. He will aim to attract to him the anxious inquirers after salvation, and
for this purpose will have special meetings for them, will invite and encourage
their attendance, will cause them to feel that they are most welcome, and by his
tender, faithful, and appropriate treatment of their cases, will make them
sensible that they are as truly the objects of deep interest to him as lambs are
to the good shepherd. And though he will very naturally wish not to be too
frequently broken in upon in his private studies by those to whom he has
appointed set times for meeting him, yet a poor burdened trembling penitent will
never find him engaged too deeply or delightfully in study, to heal his broken
heart, and to bind up his wounds.

It is really distressing to know how little time some ministers are willing to
give up from their favorite pursuits, even for relieving the solicitudes of an
anxious mind. They read much, and perhaps as the result, preach well-composed,
though possibly not very awakening, sermons; but as for any skill, or even
taste, for dealing with convinced sinners, wounded consciences, and perplexed
minds, they are as destitute of them as if they were no part of their duty. They
resemble lecturers on medicine, rather than practitioners; or they are like
physicians who would assemble all their patients able to attend, in the same
room, and then give general directions about health and sickness to all
alike—but would not inquire into their several ailments, or visit them at their
own abodes, or adapt the treatment to their individual and specific disease. It
is admitted that some men have less tact, and a still greater destitution of
taste, than others, for this department of pastoral action; but some skill in
it, and some attention to it, are the duty of every minister, and may be
acquired by all—and no man can be in earnest without it.

He who can only generalize in the pulpit—but has no ability to individualize out
of it; who cannot in some measure meet the varieties of religious perplexity,
and deal with the various modifications of awakened solicitude; who finds
himself disinclined or disabled to guide the troubled conscience through the
labyrinths which sometimes meet the sinner in the first stage of his pilgrimage
to the skies, may be a popular preacher—but he is little fitted to be the pastor
of a Christian church. One half-hour’s conversation with a convinced but
perplexed person may do more to correct mistakes, to convey instruction, to
relieve solicitude, and to settle the wavering in faith and peace than ten
sermons. True it requires much love for souls, much devotedness to their
salvation, and much concern for the success of our ministry, to devote that
half-hour to one solitary inquirer after life eternal; but surely no really
earnest minister will think his time ill bestowed in guiding that single
inquirer into the way of peace. This individualising labor is more easily
carried on and is indeed more important to pastoral success in some situations
than in others. In small congregations, for instance, especially when they are
found in our lesser towns or villages, the objects of such special attention
come more under the notice of a pastor, are more accessible, and can have more
time given to them, than in large congregations in more considerable towns. To
these smaller churches, individuals, though not of more importance or value in
themselves, since the soul and its salvation are of equal worth everywhere, are
of more consequence to the comfort of the minister, and the prosperity of the
cause, than they are where a crowd is gathered. Pastors of large churches are
much more occupied, both with the concerns of their own flock, and with public
business, than their brethren in more retired situations, and are often so much
engaged and hurried as to have too little leisure for the individual attentions
now recommended; and they are perhaps apt, through having to do with large
congregations, to think too little of the individual people. Still some excuse
may be made for them, of which others cannot avail themselves. The accession
even occasionally of only a single member to our smaller churches is felt to be
of more importance, and produces a more reviving and cheering effect, than the
addition of several to the larger ones. We have all something to learn even from
the Scribes and Pharisees of ancient times, who compassed sea and land to make
one proselyte; and also from the Papists of modern times, who pursue a like
course—or to change the example, we need more of the benevolent disposition of
angels, who rejoice over one sinner who repents. No efforts would be more likely
to be successful, none would more amply reward those who would make them, than
selection of the most hopeful individuals in the congregation, and following
them up with all the assiduities of special, affectionate, and judicious
attention. Such a course of pastoral labor, though it would not altogether be a
substitute for pulpit attractiveness, and should never be allowed to supersede
the most diligent pulpit preparation, would enable many a minister, not gifted
with large abilities, to retain a strong hold upon his flock. This is a line in
which almost any one may carry on a career of earnestness.

Another object of pastoral obligation may be mentioned, attention to the
young—and they may be divided into two classes, those belonging to the
congregation, and those belonging to the Sunday-schools. With regard to the
former, it is a matter of congratulation, that the modern plan of Bible-classes
is not infrequent nor unsuccessful—but even at this time, it is rather the
exception than the rule. It may be feared that there are some who from the
beginning to the end of the year, yes, and of their ministry also, take no
interest in the youth of their congregations; they have no catechetical classes,
no Bible-classes, and even rarely preach to the young. Who can wonder that such
men have to complain that their young people go off to other denominations, or
what is far worse, to the world? What have they ever done to attach them to
themselves, or to their place of worship? Let no man be surprised that his
congregation, diminished by death and removals, continually declines, if he
neglects to call around him the youth of his flock. Whence does the shepherd
look for his future flock—but from the lambs? And who are to constitute our
future congregations and churches—but our young people!

I am an advocate also for the catechetical instruction of the younger children,
and am sorry that this admirable method of imparting religious truth has fallen
into such general disuse. Even the Bible class, however accommodated to the
capacity of the junior members of our congregation, is not altogether a
substitute for the practice of catechizing—but should be regarded only as an
addition to it. There is still a great desire for our denomination, and their
thanks would be pre-eminently due to the man who should supply it; I mean a set
of well-composed catechisms, which might be introduced into all our families and
institute a uniform system of religious instruction throughout the body. I say
which might be introduced into all our families; for it is by no means my wish
or my intention to obtrude the pastor between the parent and child, and take the
religious instruction from natural guardians and teachers, to devolve it upon
the pastor. It is to parents that the injunction is delivered, "you shall teach
these words to your children diligently, and shall talk of them when you sit in
your house," and, "bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." No
pastoral attention should be intended, nor can be adapted, to supersede or
interfere with this solemn parental obligation. But the pastor should labor to
the uttermost to urge and keep the parents of his flock up to the right
discharge of their duty.

There are few of us who are not sorrowfully convinced that little is to be
expected from our sermons in the pulpit, or our instructions in the class-room,
while all our endeavors are so miserably counteracted by the neglect of domestic
instruction, and the lack of parental solicitude. It is not intended to justify
pastoral neglect by advancing the obligations of parental duty, for perhaps we
all have been, and are, guilty of a criminal defect of duty, in not giving more
of our time and attention to the children of our congregations; but even the
time and attention we do give, is likely to be lost, through the low state of
godliness in the homes of some of our people. We might very naturally expect
that our churches would be chiefly built up from the families of our members;
whereas the greater number of accessions are from those who were once the people
of the world. There is a great mistake on this subject, into which both parents
and ministers have fallen; and that is, that the conversion of the children of
the professor is to be looked for more from the sermons of the minister, than
from the instructions of the parent; whereas the contrary is the true order of
things; and if domestic piety and teaching were what they ought to be, it is the
order which would be found to exist.

There is unquestionable truth in the proverb, "Train up a child in the way he
should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." Were the nature and
design of the domestic constitution thoroughly understood, and its religious
duties early, judiciously, affectionately, and perseveringly discharged—the
greater number of our young people would be converted to God at home. Were all
religious professors who are parents, real and eminent Christians; were they,
from the time they became parents, to set their hearts upon being the
instruments of their children’s conversion; were they to do all that prayer,
instruction, discipline, and example could do, for the formation of the godly
character of their offspring; and were they carefully to abstain from everything
which would obstruct that end—it might be confidently expected that it would be
within the hallowed precincts of such homes, and not in the sanctuary, that the
children of the godly would usually become godly themselves.

It should then be, and will be, an object with every truly earnest pastor, to
bring up the parents in his church to a right sense and faithful discharge of
their functions. He will labor to impress upon them the solemn obligations under
which they live—to train up their children for God. It will be a matter of
prayer and solicitude with him to excite them to their duty, and to keep them in
it. For this purpose he will not only bring his pulpit ministrations to bear
much upon parental obligations—but he will make a point of visiting the families
connected with his church, to pray with them, and to hold up the hands of the
parents in this godly duty.

Deeply is it to be regretted that this part of pastoral occupation, as well as
catechizing, has disappeared amid the bustle and engrossing power of trade, and
the public business of modern religious institutions. How little do the families
know of us in the character and hallowed familiarity of the pastor! When are we
seen amid the domestic circle as the respected and beloved minister of that
lovely and interesting group, laboring, by our affectionate, serious, and solemn
discourse, and by prayer as serious, solemn, and affectionate—to entwine
ourselves round the young hearts which there look up to us with reverent regard?
Why, why do we neglect such important scenes of labor, such hopeful efforts for
usefulness? What power would this give to our sermons, and what efficacy to our
ministrations! These young ones would grow up to love us, and it would not be a
light or little thing which would break them off from our ministry when we had
produced in them such a personal attachment to ourselves. But then we must take
especial care that our conduct in the houses of our people should be such as to
give weight and influence to their religious instruction of the family, and to
ours in the sanctuary. We must be known there as the servants of God, the
ministers of Christ, the watchmen for souls; and not merely as the table-guests,
the parlour jesters, the gossiping story-tellers, the debating politicians, the
stormy polemics, the bitter sectarians; much less as the lovers of wine.

(When will the ministers and members of our churches begin generally to inquire,
whether it is not expedient for them, if not for their own sakes, yet for the
sake of the community, to discontinue altogether the use of intoxicating
liquors! When it is considered that one-half of the insanity, two-thirds of the
abject poverty, and three-fourths of the crime, of our country, are to be traced
up to drunkenness; that more than £60,000,000 are annually expended in
destructive beverages; that myriads annually die the drunkard’s death and
descend still lower than the drunkard’s grave; that thousands of church members
are every year cut off from Christian fellowship for inebriety; that every
minister of the gospel has to complain of the hindrance to his usefulness from
this cause; and that more ministers are disgraced by this than by any other
habit; that, in short, more misery and more crime flow over society from this
source than from any other, war and slavery not excepted; and that by the
highest medical authorities these intoxicating drinks are altogether banned—it
surely does behoove every professor of godliness to ask whether it is not
incumbent upon him, both for his own safety and for the good of his fellow
creatures, to abstain from this pernicious indulgence. Professors of godliness,
ponder this—and will you not by abstaining from a luxury lend the aid of your
example to discountenance this monster crime and monster misery? It is in the
power, and therefore is it not the duty, of the Christian church to do thus much
to stop this evil, which sends more people to the mad-house, the jail, the
prisons, and the gallows, more bodies to the grave, and more souls to the
bottomless pit—than any other that can be mentioned? Can the church be in
earnest until it is prepared to make this sacrifice?) Would to God that those of
my brethren who have acquired the habit of smoking, if they will not leave it
off, would abstain from the practice in the houses of their friends, and confine
it to their own—and not permit the inquisitive eyes of the junior members of the
families which they visit, to see the pipe brought out as their necessary
adjunct. Did they know the regrets of their best friends, and consider the power
of their example, they would, at any rate, so far abstain as to wait until they
had reached their own habitation, before they indulged themselves in their
accustomed gratification. Still, it is freely conceded, without justifying this
habit, there are some who are addicted to it, so grave, serious, and dignified
in other respects, as to furnish by their general demeanor an antidote against
their example in this particular. But what antidote can be found to neutralize
the mischief inflicted by the levity and frivolity of the parlour-buffoon, whose
highest object in going to the houses of his friends, seems to be to tell a
merry story, and to excite a hearty laugh? In his hands and lips the pages of
"Punch" are far more in place, as they are, perhaps, far more frequently seen,
than those of David, Isaiah, or Paul. Happily we have very few that go to this
extreme of lightness and frivolity—but we have far too many, (as is the case
with all denominations, and with ours not more than others,) whose hilarity is
destructive at once of their dignity, their seriousness, and their usefulness,
as ministers of Christ. Not that I contend for pretended demureness, and solemn
grimace, or even perpetual sermonizing conversation; as if a pastor could not
talk, without violating official decorum, upon any topic but godliness, and were
letting down his dignity, or desecrating his sanctity, if he joined in ordinary
conversation, and partook of, or even helped, the cheerfulness of the circle. By
no means—he is not to appear like a spectre that has escaped from the cloister,
to haunt the parlour, striking every face with paleness, and every tongue with
silence. He is a man, a citizen, and a friend, as well as a minister; and has a
stake and an interest in the great questions which occupy human minds, and
engage their conversation—and provided he does not forget what is due to his
pastoral character, he need not throw off what belongs to him in common with
others. No, his very cheerfulness may be made a part of his earnestness, by
being taken up and employed as a means to conciliate the affections of all
around him. The man who is seriously cheerful, who engages in general
conversation, and accommodates himself to the innocent habits of those with whom
he associates, and does this in order really to do them spiritual good, and aid
him in the great work of saving their souls, will find in the sublimity and
sanctity of his end, a sufficient protection from abusing the means. This is
widely different from the unchecked levity and unrestrained frivolity in which
some indulge, and which make it difficult to imagine how they can feel the value
of souls, or the obligation of attempting their salvation. Howard at a
masquerade, or Clarkson at a fancy ball, would not have been more out of place—a
physician who has just come from the ravages of the plague, and was immediately
going back to them, would not be more out of character, if he was seen wasting
his time and amusing himself with the tricks of a clown, than is a messenger of
God’s mercy, and a preacher of Christ’s gospel, in the circles of folly and
vanity—and he himself the mockery of the party. But I now advert for a few
moments to the pastor’s earnestness to the children of the Sunday-school. By a
most fatal error, too many of our ministers deem those institutions as either
beyond their duties, or below their notice. A pastor is, or ought to be, the
head and chief of each department of religious instruction established in the
congregation under his care. He is the teacher, the superintendent, and the
party responsible for the religious knowledge, of all the flock, and the
Sunday-school is a part of it. A wrong state of things has grown up among some
of us Dissenters, for two, three or four hundred rational minds and immortal
souls are brought every week to our Sunday-schools, and to our places of
worship, for the very purpose of receiving religious instruction; and yet all is
carried on without its being once thought by the pastor that he has any
obligation to attend to it; or by the congregation or the teachers, that he has
by virtue of his office a right and a reason to interfere in it. In most cases
the pastor has given the matter out of his hand, and has thus raised up, or been
accessory to there being raised up, a body of young instructors in matters of
religion, who act independently of him, and who, in some instances, are
confederated against him. This is not as it should be. The teachers are, or
ought to be, a pastor’s special care; to qualify them for their office, and to
assist them in its duties, should be thought by him no inconsiderable part of
his functions. Nor should even the children themselves be viewed as people with
whom he has nothing to do. There are always among them some whose minds have
been brought to serious reflection, who are inquiring with solicitude after
salvation, and whom he should take under his own special teaching and care, and
aim to guide into the way of faith, peace, and holiness—and he should not
neglect to give frequent, affectionate, and solemn addresses to the rest. In a
Sunday-school of two or three hundred children there are as many immortal souls,
exposed by their situation in life to peculiar dangers, yet all capable of
eternal blessedness, and all brought weekly under the eye of the pastor—and yet
by how many of our pastors are these hopeful objects of religious zeal and
benevolence shut out of the sphere of their pastoral solicitude, and handed over
to the Sunday-school teachers, as if there were no hope of a minister’s saving
the soul of a poor boy, nor any reward for his saving the soul of a poor girl!
This obligation of attending to the souls of Sunday-scholars, while it is
incumbent upon all ministers, is especially so upon those who are laboring amid
much discouragement in small congregations. Many of these men are continually
uttering complaints as to the fewness of their hearers, and the inefficiency of
their labors; and yet perhaps have never thought of turning their attention to
the two or three hundred youthful minds which are every Sabbath-day before their
eyes, and under the sound of their voice. No one who ever threw his mind and
heart into his Sunday-schools had to complain that he labored in vain, and spent
his strength for nothing. No part of pastoral labor yields a quicker or a larger
reward. By some it is made the main pivot on which their whole system of
religious instruction turns, and flourishing congregations have risen up under
its potency. I have myself been the astonished and delighted witness of this,
especially in one well-known instance, and am so deeply impressed with its
importance, that I implore my brethren not to neglect this means of usefulness,
or to throw away the golden opportunity which the circumstances of our country
still hold out. Nor is it Sunday-school instruction alone which claims our
attention—but DAILY education. In this we must be in earnest also. It is one of
the great subjects of the day—and belongs to us, as much as to any one. We must
not allow the minds of the poor to be wholly withdrawn from our influence—but
must exert ourselves according to our ability and opportunity to train them up
for God. Others know and feel the importance of this—if we do not. The Roman
Catholic priests are aware of it, so are the clergy of the Established Church,
and so are the Methodist ministers—and shall Dissenting ministers be behind the
most zealous and devoted friends of education? I trust not. But there are other
departments of the pastorate in which earnestness will manifest itself—there is
visiting the sick, especially those whose disease is chronic, and leaves their
minds open to conversation.

There is also the difficult but incumbent duty of rebuke, warning, and
ecclesiastical discipline. A devoted servant of Christ will never neglect the
state of his church—but will be solicitous to maintain such order there, as
shall be pleasing to him to whom the church belongs. Like a good shepherd he
will look after his flock, and will endeavor to avoid the denunciations of God
delivered by the prophet Ezekiel—"Woe be to the shepherds of Israel that feed
only themselves! Should not the shepherds feed the flocks? The diseased have you
not strengthened; neither have you healed that which was sick; neither have you
bound up that which was broken; neither have you brought again that which was
driven away; neither have you sought that which was lost." Impressive
description of our duty! May we be found so discharging it as to avoid this
fearful woe!

I may appropriately introduce here the words of the Bishop of Calcutta, in his
admirable and heart-searching introduction to the edition of "Baxter’s Reformed
Pastor."

"What have we been doing as ministers? Lamentably as we have failed in a general
estimate of the vast importance of our office, we have failed as lamentably in
all those parts of it which relate to personal inspection and vigilance over our
flocks. We have confined ourselves to preaching, to ecclesiastical duties, to
occasional visits to the sick, to the administration of the sacraments, to the
external and secular relation in which we stand to our parishes; but what have
we done in personal care and direction, in affectionate catechetical
conferences, in going from house to house, in visiting every family and
individual in our districts, in becoming acquainted with the characters, the
needs, the state of the heart, the habits, the attendance upon public worship,
the observance of the Sabbath, the instruction of children and servants, the
family devotions, of each house? Have we looked after each individual sheep with
an eager solicitude? Have we denied ourselves our own ease, and pleasure, and
indulgence, in order to go after Christ’s sheep, scattered in this wicked world,
that they may be saved forever? What do the streets and lanes of our cities
testify concerning us? What do the highways and hedges of our country parishes
say as to our fidelity and love to souls? What do the houses and cottages and
sick chambers of our congregations and neighborhoods speak? Where have we been?
What have we been doing? Has Christ our Master seen us follow his footsteps, and
going about doing good? Brethren, we are greatly faulty concerning this. We have
been content with public discourses, and have not urged each soul to the
concerns of salvation. Blessed Jesus! you know the guilt of your ministers in
this respect, above all others! We have been divines, we have been scholars, we
have been disputants, we have been students; we have been everything but the
holy, self-denying, laborious, consistent, ministers of your gospel!"

It has long appeared probable to me, that we, as Dissenting ministers, have
something to learn in reference to this part of our duty from the clergy of the
Church of England, and even from the priests of the Church of Rome. We do not
perhaps sufficiently enter into the meaning and functions implied in that very
expressive phrase, "the cure of souls," a phrase which comprehends far more than
the preaching of sermons, and the duties of the Sabbath and the sanctuary,
however well performed. There is a definiteness, an explicitness, in this
beautiful expression, into which we have need more deeply to enter. It is true
we have our word "pastor," which in the impressive Saxon term "shepherd,"
implies a great deal; but it is neither so specific nor so solemn as the
description conveyed by "the cure of souls." Nor do I think we have all the
functions which this phrase implies, so much within the range of our habitual
contemplation as those by whom it is employed. In leaving college, and entering
upon the sphere of our pastoral labor, our attention is perhaps often chiefly
fixed upon the pulpit, without taking sufficiently into consideration the
various private duties of which this is but the center—while the clergy of the
Church of England, though not altogether neglecting the work of preaching, enter
upon their parishes with a wider range of view, as regards the duties of their
office. The visitation of the sick, the catechizing of children, and an
attention to private exposition of the Scriptures and individual cases, enter
more into their plans of clerical activity than into ours. There seems to be
with them more sense and admission of the claims which their flocks as
individuals have upon their time and attention, than with us. Our sphere is felt
to be the pulpit, and our relation to be to the congregation as a whole. It is
likely we take more pains in the preparation of our sermons; for as our
discourses are usually much longer than those of the clergy of the
Establishment, we must of course spend more time in composing them.

It will also be said that the parochial system of the Church of England gives to
its ministers, by its restriction to localities, advantages which we, whose
flocks are scattered all over the expanse of a large town, do not possess. There
is something in this—but not so much as appears at first sight, inasmuch as
attachment to favorite preachers is as strongly felt in the Establishment as it
is with us, and overleaps all distinctions of streets. It is also affirmed that
it is more a part of the system of the Church of England to inculcate on their
parishioners this looking up to their clergy in all spiritual matters, outside
of the pulpit, as well as to his sermons in it. If it be so, it must be
confessed that it is an excellence; and if we have it not, the sooner we obtain
it the better. There seems to be in our system as much room for it, as in that
from which we have separated, perhaps more; since the voluntary choice of their
pastor by the people themselves is a more solemn surrender into his hands of the
oversight of their spiritual affairs, than the compulsory acceptance of the
minister who has been appointed by a patron, without asking the consent or
approbation of the congregation. But the fact is, we have too much contented
ourselves with the functions of the preacher, to the neglect of those of the
pastor, and have thus taught our people to regard us too exclusively in the
light of the former. What we need, therefore, is more earnestness in the
pastorate, as well as in the pulpit, for it is in this we are brought into most
powerful competition with the clergy of the Church of England at this day. Let
us then take up the phrase, as descriptive of the duties of our office, and
consider ourselves as called by the Holy Spirit, chosen by the people, and
ordained by the laying on of the hands of the elders, to "the cure of souls"—a
cure which we are to carry out by all the beseeching entreating of the pulpit,
and all the endless and ceaseless assiduities of the pastorate.

Such, then, is a view, and but an imperfect one too, of an earnest ministry.

I would have made it more comprehensive and impressive if I could—for the
reality can never be overdrawn nor exaggerated. Let anyone consider what that
object must be which occupied the mind of Deity from eternity; which is the end
of all the divine dispensations of creation, providence, and grace, in our
world; which is the purpose for which the Son of God expired upon the cross;
which forms the substance of revealed truth, and employed the lives and pens of
apostles; to which martyrs set the seal of their blood. In short, let him
recollect that the end of the Christian ministry is the salvation of immortal
souls, through the mediation of our Lord Jesus Christ, and then say if anything
less than an earnest ministry, is befitting such an object, or if earnestness
can comprehend less than has been set forth in these chapters.


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  CHAPTER 20: 02.07.     EXAMPLES OF EARNESTNESS
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EXAMPLES OF EARNESTNESS The "power of example" is proverbial. We are constituted
to be moved, as well as directed, by ’example’. It teaches us how to act, and
impels us to action. Hence the excellence of Scripture; it is a book of
models—as well as of maxims. Towering above all the rest, standing out in bold
relief beyond all the others, is the character of CHRIST. He is an example of
all excellence, and an example to all people. To the ministers of the gospel,
his beautiful and perfect embodiment of all that is holy and lovely commends
itself with peculiar energy. He was himself a minister of the gospel, sent by
the Father in the same manner as he has sent others. He is the great model, the
Divine archetype as a preacher and a teacher, which they are to copy. He is to
be imitated in the manner as well as in the matter of his preaching; he is to be
closely and constantly followed in his liveliness, his tenderness, his fidelity,
his solemnity. We of all men are under the most solemn obligations to tread in
his steps and do as he did. But I now select from all his qualities, his
earnestness. In this, as well as in everything else, he surpassingly excelled
all his most devoted servants. When he came into the world, he said, "Lo, I
come, in the volume of the book it is written of me, I delight to do your will,
O God." When he emerged from his obscurity at Nazareth, and entered on his
public ministry, he commenced a career of increasing and untiring activity. His
eye, his heart, his tongue, embraced one object, and one only—the salvation of
souls. We see him always in action, never in repose. Follow him where we will,
we find him always working, preaching, praying, or weeping—but never loitering.
He gathered up the very fragments of his time, when waiting in the house of
Martha for his food, and when waiting at the well of Samaria while his disciples
had gone into the city to purchase provisions, and employed those brief
intervals in doing good. He was the compassionate Savior—and not the cold and
heartless philosopher. His preaching was the breathing of a soul replete with
love—his common conversation was the overflowing of mercy. He was not a mere
’personification of reason’—but an ’incarnation of love’; and sent forth not the
moon-beams of a cold and clear intellectualism—but the sun-rays of a fervid and
fructifying benevolence. To save souls he scrupled not to go, where but for this
object we would have never seen him—to feasts and weddings, as well as funerals.
From the hour when he thus addressed his mother, "Know you not I must be about
my Father’s business," his food and his drink were to do the will of his Father.
He denied himself all that was of an indulgent and self-gratifying nature; his
only relaxation was devotion, which, after laboring all day in the city, he
sought by prayer upon the mountains, and in the midnight air. As a scene of
earnestness, never surpassed until he ascended the hill of Calvary—behold him
bathed in tears over the guilty city, and choked in his utterance by the sobs
with which the foresight of the approaching destruction of Jerusalem convulsed
his bosom! O, that was a spectacle which was enough to draw into a sympathy of
grief, the whole universe! What a heart that must have been, which on such a
spot, and at such a time, could find relief for its intense emotions only in
tears! Truly has it been said, that melting scene is inferior in pathos, in
tender and solemn grandeur, only to Calvary itself. But this was only a prelude
to what followed. In prospect of the hour of the solemn and mysterious scenes of
Gethsemane and Golgotha, he exclaimed, "I have a baptism to be baptized with,
and how am I straitened until it is accomplished." His eagerness for man’s
salvation was such that the guilty heart of the traitor was too slow in its
purpose for his love, and he quickened the movements of Judas by those memorable
words, "What you do, do quickly!" He made haste to the cross. He was almost
impatient for the hour of sacrifice. He could brook no delay in love’s redeeming
work.

Here, ministers of the gospel, here is your pattern. This earnestness is your
model. You are to be something like this. The work of Christ in saving souls is
to be regarded in a double aspect by you, both as the means of your personal
salvation, and the example for your official character. We have too much
forgotten the latter. Even though as Christians we may have looked on his
conduct as our exemplar, we have too much neglected to do so as ministers. As
servants we have not kept our eyes fixed as we ought to have done, upon our
Great Master. Shame upon us, that we have been so little careful to catch the
fire of intense and ardent devotedness from this glowing and Divine example.

We have seen the sun, let us now turn to the stars—we have beheld the Master,
let us now contemplate the servants. Perhaps the former is so high above you
that you are discouraged by its loftiness and perfection—well, look now at some
nearer your own level. First of all, observe the apostle PAUL; and where shall
we find anything so nearly approaching to the earnestness of his Divine Lord, as
the conduct of that wondrous man! From the moment of his conversion on his way
to Damascus, he had but one object in existence, and that was the glory of God
in the salvation of souls; and but one way of seeking it, and that was the
preaching of the cross. Wherever he went, whatever he did, to whomsoever he
addressed himself, he was ever watching for souls. Whether reasoning with the
Jews in their synagogues; or discoursing with the philosophers on Mars’ Hill; or
preaching to the voluptuous inhabitants of Corinth; or appealing to the Ephesian
elders at Miletus; or pleading in chains the cause of Christianity before the
tribunal of Festus, in the presence of Agrippa; or writing letters from prison
to the churches he had planted—we find him every where and always the earnest
minister of Jesus Christ.

There is one expression in his address to the Ephesian elders which reveals in a
short compass the whole spirit and marrow of his preaching; "Remember that by
the space of three years, I ceased not to warn every one of you, night and day,
with tears." The terrors of the Roman government could not extract from his
firmness a single groan—but the sight of an immortal soul perishing in iniquity,
and amid fatal delusions, altogether unmanned him, and suffused his face with
tears, which in other cases would have been the sign of weakness. O those tears,
those tears, how they reprove us for our insensibility, and how they prove to us
our deficiencies!

Every view we can take of this illustrious servant of the cross fills us with
astonishment and admiration. His life and history seem designed to teach us how
much energy may be compressed into one human heart, to be developed in one
single life; what sufferings may be endured, what power exerted, what results
produced, by one man who is constrained by the love of Christ, and filled with
all the fullness of God; and what God can accomplish in fulfilling the purposes
of his wisdom and love, by the instrumentality of an individual of our species.
There is a short sentence in his epistle to the Philippians, which in a few
words sums up his whole life and labors, "For me to live is Christ." What
profundity of meaning, what development of soul, what comprehension of purpose
and plan, do those few monosyllables convey! "Christ is my life—apart from him
and his work I have no separate existence. I have grown into that one object,
and it absorbs me." This is earnestness—and what obligation to cultivate it
rested on Paul which does not rest on us? What was Christ to him, which he ought
not to be to us? Why should he thus labor for souls—and not we? Is there a
single reason which governed him, that ought not to constrain us? Ministers of
Christ, read this great man’s life with a view to know what you ought to be—and
how you ought to live and labor. In view of what this blessed apostle was, and
how he labored—will you be satisfied with cold intellectuality, flowery
orations, subtle philosophy—with thinking you have answered the end of your
calling when you have composed two sermons a week, and kept your people
tolerably well satisfied with your labors? Will you think it enough to be a good
student and reader—though all this while souls are not converted to God, nor the
cause of godliness advanced in the world? Do you talk of your hard labor, severe
trials, scanty incomes, ungrateful congregations, and fickle friends? Listen to
Paul’s tale, and be silent. "In labors more abundant, in stripes above measure,
in prisons more frequent, in deaths often. Five times I received thirty-nine
stripes from the Jews. Thrice was I beaten with rods, once was I stoned, thrice
I suffered shipwreck, a night and a day have I been in the deep; in journeyings
often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by my own
countrymen, in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the
wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren; in weariness
and painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in
cold and nakedness. Beside those things that are without, that which comes upon
me daily, the care of all the churches. Who is weak, and I am not weak? who is
offended, and I burn not?" Is there to be found in human composition or history
such a passage as this? In reading it who can help asking, "after this, what
have I done or suffered for Christ, which can give me a title to be ranked as a
minister of Christ?" But perhaps this also is too lofty an example to have much
weight with you; then take an instance next from the Nonconformist’s Memorial.
It appears from the diary of that eminent servant of Christ, Oliver Heywood,
that in one year, besides his stated work on the Lord’s-day, he preached one
hundred and fifty times, kept fifty days of fasting and prayer, and nine of
thanksgiving, and traveled fourteen hundred miles on horseback, in the service
of Christ and immortal souls. And then think of Baxter, that wondrous man, who
though hunted and imprisoned by the demon of persecution, and tortured with
severe bodily pain, was always preaching and writing, until he had composed and
published those hundred and twenty volumes, the very writing of which, as to the
mechanical labor alone, seemed enough to occupy a whole life, and as to which
the celebrated Dr. Barrow said, that "his practical works were never mended, nor
his controversial ones ever confuted."

Now turn to those extraordinary men, Wesley and Whitfield; and who can read the
account of their amazing labors, and equally amazing success; without something
of a self-reproachful and desponding feeling, as if we were living almost in
vain? When we see them dividing their whole lives between the pulpit, the
closet, and the class room; sacrificing all domestic enjoyment and personal
ease; encountering savage mobs, and addressing congregated thousands; traveling
backward and forward the whole length of the kingdom, and crossing the ocean
many times; moving the populations of cities, and filling nations with the fame
and the fruit of their evangelical labors; breathing little else than the
atmosphere of crowded chapels and preaching rooms, except when they lifted up
their voice under the canopy of heaven; regaling themselves, not with the
dainties of the table, nor the repose of the soft luxurious couch—but with the
tears of the penitent, and the songs of the rejoicing believer; making it their
one and only business to seek the salvation of souls, and their one and only
happiness to rejoice in the number of their conversions; indifferent alike to
the savage fury of their persecutors, and the fond flatteries of their
followers; sometimes rising from a bed of sickness to address the multitude in
circumstances which rendered it probable they would exchange the pulpit for the
tomb; to sum up all in one short sentence—wearing out life in labor so great
that it looked as if they were in haste to die! When we see this, how can we
endure to think of the way in which we are living, or how can we imagine we are
living at all? How can we read their lives, and not blush for ourselves? How can
we witness their earnestness, and not feel as if we knew nothing of the passion
for saving souls? And what shall be said of Brainerd, the first missionary of
Christ among the Indians of North America? See him harassed by nervous and
gloomy dejection, and wearing down by slow consumption; yet for the love of
souls dwelling amid savages, helping to build his own comfortless and
ill-furnished hut; living at times on parched corn; when traveling and benighted
in the woods, sleeping, if sleep he could, wet and cold in a tree; throwing
himself down on his return to his own solitary dwelling on his hard bed, with
none to comfort him; and amid such privations, long tried and harassed by the
lack of success in his apostolical labors; and all this for the love of souls,
and the glory of Christ? Where, O where, even among modern missionaries, to say
nothing of ministers at home, do we find this rigorous self-denial, this
self-sacrificing disposition, this intense desire after the salvation of souls?

I may profitably refer to one more instance of devotedness, and that shall be of
a pastor—Payson of America, whose biography should be read by every Christian
minister. Many have read it, and I should hope with no small advantage. During
his ministry his solicitude for the salvation of souls was so earnest, that he
impaired his health by the frequency of his fastings and the importunity of his
prayers. His whole life was spent in one constant series of efforts to produce
revivals of godliness; and the anguish of his mind, when his labors failed, was
so acute as to bring on bodily disease. It was said of him by his biographer,
that his language, his conversation, and his whole deportment were such as
brought home and fastened to the minds of his hearers the conviction, that he
believed, and therefore spoke. So important did he regard such a conviction in
the attendants on his ministry, that he made it the topic of one of his
addresses to his clerical brethren, which he entitled, "The importance of
convincing our hearers that we believe what we preach." In the course of this
address he remarks, that a minister who acted thus, "in delivering his message
as an ambassador of Christ, would show that he felt deeply penetrated with a
conviction of its truth and infinite importance. He would speak like one whose
whole soul was filled with his subject. He would speak of Christ and his
salvation, as a grateful, admiring people would speak of a great and generous
deliverer, who had devoted his life for the welfare of his country. He would
speak of eternity, as one whose eye had been wearied by attempting to penetrate
its unfathomable recesses, and describe its solemn realities, like a man who
stood on the verge of time, and had lifted the veil which conceals them from the
view of mortals. Thoughts that glow and words that burn would compose his public
addresses, and while a sense of the dignity of his official character, and the
infinite importance of his subject, would lead him to speak as one having
authority, with indescribable solemnity, weight, and energy, a full recollection
that he was by nature a child of wrath, and that he was addressing fellow men
and fellow sinners, mingled with compassion for their wretched state, and ardent
desire after their salvation, would spread an air of tenderness over his
discourses, and invest him with that affectionate, melting, persuasive
earnestness of manner, which is best calculated to affect and penetrate the
heart. To say all in one word, he would speak like an ambassador of Him who
spoke as never any man spoke, and we would say—we speak of that which we
know—and testify to that which we have seen." When disabled by increasing
disease from preaching, Payson carried with him into his sick chamber all his
undiminished earnestness for the salvation of souls. Having come from, on one
occasion, the administration of the Lord’s Supper, he rose, and thus addressed
his flock—"Ever since I became a minister, it has been my earnest wish that I
might die from disease which would allow me to preach a farewell sermon to my
people; but as it is not probable I shall ever be able to do this, I will
attempt to say a few words now—it may be the last time I shall ever address you.
This is not merely a presentiment—it is an opinion founded on facts, and
maintained by physicians who know my case, that I shall never behold another
spring.

"And now, standing on the borders of the eternal world, I look back upon my past
ministry, and on the manner on which I have performed its duties; and oh, my
hearers, if you have not performed your duties better than I have done, woe!
woe! be to you, unless you have an Advocate and an Intercessor in heaven. We
have lived together twenty years, and have spent more than a thousand Sabbaths
together, and I have given you at least two thousand warnings. I am now going to
give an account how they were given; and you, my hearers, will soon have to give
an account how they were received. One more warning I will give you. Once more
your shepherd, who will be yours no longer, entreats you to flee from the wrath
to come. Oh, let me have the happiness of seeing my dear people attend to their
eternal interests, that I may not have reason to say—I have labored in vain—I
have spent my strength for nothing!"

After this he entered his chapel but once more. Confined now to his house and to
his room, he still carried out his intense desires to be useful in saving souls,
by dictating letters and addresses to individuals and bodies of men. People
under anxious concern for their salvation, young converts entering on the
Christian life, ministers just commencing the arduous duties of their office,
and various bodies and classes of individuals, were sent for to visit him in his
sick chamber, and receive his dying counsels and admonitions. What messages also
went forth from that scene of agony and of glory to ministers and friends! His
"ruling passion was strong in death." His love for preaching was as invincible
as that of the miser, who dies grasping his treasure. Payson directed a label to
be attached to his bosom when dead, with the words, "Remember the words which I
have spoken unto you, while I was yet present with you," that they might be read
by all who came to look at his corpse, and by them, he being dead, yet spoke.
The same words at the request of his people, were engraved on the plate of his
coffin, and read by thousands on the day of his interment.

Here was a beautiful instance of pastoral earnestness; and if I have dwelt
longer on this than on some of the still more illustrious ones which have
preceded it, the reason may be found in the fact, that it is the example of a
minister of our own times, and placed in nearly the same circumstances as
ourselves; and also in the wish that many who have not read that most
instructive piece of pastoral biography, may be induced by these extracts to
peruse the volume. That man’s heart must be in a bad state indeed, both as a
Christian and a minister, who is not made the holier and more earnest by
contemplating that bright and lovely example.

Leaving the ministry, and turning towards the laity, for some rare examples of
unquenchable earnestness, I find two deserving above most of honorable mention,
and assiduous imitation, Lady Huntingdon, and the late Thomas Wilson of
Highbury. In the former we see a peeress, related of course to many noble
families, to whom the honors of the court and the elegancies of fashion were
accessible, relinquishing from the hour of her conversion to God, all those
pomps and gaieties of the world—and consecrating her rank, her influence, and
her wealth, to His glory and the salvation of souls; leaving the festivities of
the gay—for the conventicles of the godly; and the society of nobles, statesmen,
orators and academics—to hold converse with itinerant preachers; selling her
jewels to enable her to purchase chapels; opening her drawing room for religious
worship; and undiverted and unmoved by the amazement, reproach, and sneers of a
proud and scoffing aristocracy—pursuing with an intensity which they could
comprehend as little as they could the objects to which it was directed, the
spread of evangelical truth, and the salvation of immortal souls, both among the
rich and the poor. In this one object her whole life was bound up, apart from it
she had neither occupation nor enjoyment.

Pretty much the same in substance may be said of Thomas Wilson—the late
Treasurer of Highbury College. We needed not the very valuable and interesting
memoir of this inestimable man, with which his son has favored the world, to
convince us of this; much as the conviction is deepened, and the impression
perpetuated, by the complete view of his life and character there presented to
our view—those who knew Mr. Wilson, (and who of every party in the religious
world did not know him?) always considered him as a person of extraordinary zeal
and great benevolence, and a most useful specimen of an earnest man. This
character will be assigned to him even by those who differed from him in some
views of the object on which he lavished the energies of his active mind, and
the resources of his ample fortune. But now that the whole outward career of
this indefatigable man is laid before us, and the mechanism of his heart, as the
spring of his energy, is disclosed to us in this seasonable and instructive
biography, we learn the important lesson, how much one man, whose heart is given
to the work, may accomplish in the way of evangelizing our dark and wretched
world.

Perhaps modern times have produced and presented few more striking instances of
that quality of character which it is the design of this volume to illustrate
and to enforce. He selected his one object of life, and that was the support and
spread of evangelical religion by building chapels, and educating and supporting
ministers, in connection with the denomination to which he belonged. For this he
retired from business, and consecrated to it his time, his fortune, his
influence, and his piety. His journeys from home, and his occupation at home,
were in a great measure devoted to this. He had his office, his clerk, his house
of business, his correspondence, all in reference to this, just as the merchant
has for his commercial affairs. To this were directed his conversation in
company, and his musing and letters when alone. The consummation of one scheme
of usefulness in his line of effort was but the commencement of another. While
others talked, he worked. We knew where to find him, and how he was employed. If
a voice from heaven had commanded him to build chapels and educate ministers, he
could not have pursued that object with more fixedness of aim, unity of action,
and steadiness of perseverance, than he manifested. He knew his object, and
therefore needed no counsel; he loved it, and allowed nothing to divert his mind
from it—he saw its practicability and hearkened to no objections. If others
would act with him, well; if not, he would go alone. It was not brilliant
talents, nor a princely fortune, nor a commanding eloquence; though he had good
abilities, a handsome income, and an easy utterance; but it was earnestness that
made him what he was, and enabled him to do what he did. Yes, Thomas Wilson was
an earnest man—and would to God that all whom he helped to introduce into the
ministry, partook, in the still more sacred duties of their calling, of his
intensity of action!


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  CHAPTER 21: 02.08.     MOTIVES TO EARNESTNESS
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MOTIVES TO EARNESTNESS I. Earnestness is demanded of the Christian minister, by
both his THEME and his OBJECT. When Pilate proposed to his illustrious prisoner
the question, "What is truth?" he brought before him the most momentous subject
which can engage the attention of a rational creature; and if Christ refused to
give an answer, his silence is to be accounted for by the captious or trifling
spirit of the questioner—and not by any insignificance in the question. Truth is
the most valuable thing in the universe, next to holiness; and truth, even that
truth which by way of eminence and distinction is called ’the truth’—is the
theme of our ministry. Take any branch of general science, be it what it may,
and however valuable and important it may be considered, its most enthusiastic
student and admirer cannot claim for it that supremacy which is implied in the
expression, ’the truth’. Who shall adjust the claims to this distinction of the
various physical and moral sciences, and declare, in opposition to the false
pretensions of usurpers, which is the rightful possessor of the throne? Who? The
God of truth himself; and He has done it—He has placed the Bible on the seat of
majesty in the temple of truth, and has called upon all systems of philosophy to
fall down and do it homage. This is our subject—eternal, immutable truth. Truth
given pure from its Divine Source, and bearing with it the evidence and impress
of its own Omniscient Author. O what, compared with the truths of Scripture, are
the loftiest and noblest of the sciences—chemistry, with its beautiful
combinations and affinities; or astronomy, with its astounding numbers,
magnitudes, distances, and revolutions, of worlds; or geology, with its
marvelous and incalculable dates of bygone ages? What is matter, inert or
organized, however diversified, classified, or combined with its laws of
necessity, compared with minds and souls, and the laws of moral truth by which
their free actions are regulated? What is nature, compared with the God of
nature? What the heavens and the earth, compared with the ’marvelous mind’ which
looks out upon them through the organ of vision, as from a window commanding the
grand and boundless prospect? What the fleeting term of man’s existence upon
earth, with its little cycles of care, sorrow, and labor, compared with the
eternal ages through which the soul holds on her course of deathless existence?
The works of creation are a dim and twilight manifestation of God’s nature,
compared with the grandeur and more perfect medium of redemption. The person of
the Lord Jesus Christ is itself a wonder and a mystery, compared with which all
other displays of Deity are darkness; this is the shekinah in the holy of holies
of the temple of God’s creation, towards which all orders of created spirits,
from the most distant parts of the universe, reverently turn and do homage to
the great God our Savior.

This, this, is our theme—the truth of God concerning himself; the truth of an
incarnate Deity; the truth of man’s redemption by the cross; the truth of the
moral law, the eternal standard of rectitude, the tree of knowledge of good and
evil; the truth of the gospel, the tree of life in the midst of the paradise of
God; the truth of immortality, of heaven, and of hell—the truth couched under
the symbols of the Levitical law, and the visions of the Jewish prophets, and
fully exhibited in the gospels of the evangelists, and the inspired letters of
the apostles. Again I ask, exultingly and rapturously, what are the discoveries
and inventions of science, compared with these themes? Viewing man in relation
to immortality, as sinful and accountable, what is art or science, compared with
revealed truth? And shall we, can we, be otherwise than earnest in the
promulgation of this truth? Shall we touch such themes with a careless hand and
a drowsy mind? Shall we slumber over truths which keep in wakeful and energetic
activity all other orders of created intelligences, and which are at once the
object and the rest of the Uncreated Mind?

Let us look at the earnestness, with which the sons of science pursue their
studies. With what enthusiasm they delve into the earth, or gaze through the
telescope at the heavens, or hang over the fire; with what prolonged and patient
research they carry on their experiments, and pursue their analyses; how
unwearied in toil, and how enduring in disappointment, they are; and how
rapturously they hold up to the world’s gazing and wondering eye some new
particle of truth, which they have found out after all this peering and prying
into nature’s secrets! Ministers of the gospel, is it thus with the men who have
to find out the truths of nature, and shall we who have the volume of inspired
revealed truth opened before us, drone, loiter, and trifle over its momentous
realities? Shall the example of earnestness be taken from him who analyses man’s
lifeless flesh, to tell us by the laws of organic chemistry its component parts,
rather than from him who has to do with the truths that relate to the immortal
soul? Shall he whose discoveries and lessons have no higher object than our
material globe, and no longer date than its existence—be more intensely in
earnest than we who have to do with the truth that relates to God and the whole
moral universe—and is to last throughout eternity? What deep shame should cover
us for our lack of ardor and enthusiasm in such a service as this! And then what
is the purpose for which this truth—so grand, so solemn, so sublime—is revealed
by God, and is to be preached by us? Not simply to gratify curiosity; not merely
to conduct the mind seeking for knowledge to the fountain where it may slake its
thirst; no—but to save the immortal soul from sin, death, and hell, and conduct
it to the abodes of glorious immortality. The man who can handle such topics,
and for such a purpose, in an unimpassioned careless manner, and with an icy
heart, is the most astounding instance of guilty lukewarmness in the universe—to
his self-contradiction, no parallel can be found, and he remains a fearful
instance how far it is possible for the human mind to go in the most obvious,
palpable, and guilty inconsistency. A lack of earnestness in the execution of
that commission, which is designed to save immortal souls from eternal ruin, and
to raise them to everlasting life, is a spectacle which, if it were not so
common, would fill us with amazement, indignation, and contempt.

We have read the speeches of the great masters of eloquence, both of ancient and
modern times—and have sympathized with the intense concern, and untiring effort,
with which they gave utterance to the mighty words that flashed from their
burning souls; and do we condemn as an enthusiast the Athenian orator who so
agonized to save his country from the yoke of Philip; the majestic Roman who
roused the indignation of the republic against the treason of Cataline; or our
own Wilberforce, who for twenty years lifted his voice in appeals to the justice
and mercy of a British Parliament against the atrocities of the slave trade? On
the contrary, we deem no eulogy sufficient to express our admiration of their
noble enthusiasm. But our praise of them, is the condemnation of ourselves! For
how far short of them do we fall in earnestness, though the salvation of a
single soul, out of all the multitudes that come under the influence of our
ministrations—is an event, which is inconceivably more momentous in its
consequences, because enduring through eternity, than all the objects
collectively for which those men exhausted the energies of their intellects and
lives. Do we really believe that we are either a savor of life unto life, or of
death unto death—to those who hear us? Or is this mere official phraseology,
never intended to be understood in the ordinary import of the words? Is it a
matter of fact, or only the solemn garnish of a sermon, the trickery and puffing
of pulpit vanity—that souls are perpetually rising from beneath our ministry
into the felicities and honors of the heavens—or dropping from around our
pulpits into the bottomless pit? Are companies of immortal spirits continually
summoned from our congregations to inhabit eternity, and supply heaven or hell,
to swell the numbers of the redeemed, or to add to the multitude of the lost? If
this be true, (and we are gross deceivers, mere pulpit actors, reverend
hypocrites, if we do not believe in its truth) then where is the earnestness
that alone can give consistency to our profession, and is appropriate to our
situation, and adequate to our convictions? Have we really become so carelessly,
so criminally familiar with such topics as salvation and damnation—that we can
descant upon them with the same calmness, coolness, not to say indifference,
with which a public lecturer will discuss a branch of natural philosophy? O
where is our reason, our godliness, our consistency?

II. Earnestness is imperatively demanded by the state of the human mind, viewed
in relation to the truths and objects just set forth. This was glanced at in an
earlier part of the work—but must be now resumed and amplified. The entreating
and beseeching importunity which was employed by the apostle—and which is found
to be no less necessary for us—presupposes on the part of its objects, a
reluctance to come into a state of reconciliation with God, which must be
assailed by the force of vehement persuasion. Although we have to treat with a
revolted world, a world engaged in mad conflict with Omnipotence—yet if the
guilty rebels were weary of their hostilities, and in utter hopelessness of
success, were prepared on the first offer of mercy to throw down their arms, and
in the spirit of contrition sue for pardon—ours would be an easy mission, and we
might spare ourselves the trouble of earnestness and admonition. But the very
reverse is the case.

"The carnal mind is enmity against God, and is not subject to the law of God,
neither indeed can be." The hearts of men are fully set to do evil. We find them
taken up, occupied, influenced, governed—by the palpable and visible things of
the present life; and our business is to engage them in constant resistance to
the undue influence of seen and temporal things, by a vigorous faith in the
things that are unseen and eternal. Our aim and labor are, by the power of the
unseen world to come, to deliver them from the spell of the present state, with
whose pageantry they are enamored, and under whose fascination they are well
pleased to continue. And all the while they are so occupied by the pursuits of
business, so engrossed by the cares, comforts, and trials of life; and are in
such breathless haste to pursue, such distracting bustle to possess, and such
ardent hope to enjoy, the various objects of their earthly desires, that when we
call their attention to serious godliness, as the one thing needful, we are
deemed intrusive, audacious, and troublesome—as one who would stop another in a
race, to offer him an object foreign to that for which he is contending. But the
difficulty does not stop here; if this were all, we would have only a very small
share of the opposition which now calls forth our energy and requires our most
strenuous efforts; for when we have succeeded in gaining a hearing and arresting
attention, we have to contend not only with an indisposition to receive the
truth—but a determined hostility against it. To those who are naturally disposed
to think well of themselves--we have to produce a sense of utter worthlessness
and depravity! To those who will only admit only a few imperfections and
infirmities—we have to displace their feeling of self-esteem, by one of
self-condemnation and self-abhorrence! We have to substitute for a general and
unhumbled dependence upon Divine mercy, such a conviction of exposure to the
curse of God’s violated law, as makes it difficult for the trembling penitent to
see how his pardon can be harmonized with the claims of justice—to offer
salvation upon terms which leave not the smallest room for self-congratulation,
or the operation of pride; indeed to carry such a message as frequently excites
disgust, calls forth the bitterest enmity of the human heart, and arouses all
its self-love in determined hostility. And then the salvation exhibited in the
gospel is not only opposed to the pride—but also to the passions, of fallen man.
It requires the excision of sins dear as our right hand, the surrender of
objects which have enamored our whole soul, the breaking up of habits which have
grown with our growth, and strengthened with our strength.

Sometimes we have, in addition to all this, to summon our hearers to a war
without, as well as to a conflict within, and to verify the words of Christ,
that he came to send a sword instead of peace, and to set parents against
children, and children against parents. What minister has not sometimes felt his
courage ready to quail, and his steadfastness in danger of faltering, when
called to lead on some persecuted convert to brave the cruel mockings,
reproaches, frowns, threats, and violence—of his nearest and dearest earthly
connections? I agonize as I write, to think what I, among others, have witnessed
of this kind. Verily it is through tribulation that some, even in these peaceful
times, are called to enter into the kingdom of heaven. And then, following on
the difficulties of the Christian ministry, to prevent the first impressions of
divine truth from vanishing like the cloud, or exhaling like the dew; to drive
the inquirer from finding repose any where but at the cross of Christ; to guard
the feeble, and to inspire the timid with courage; to detect the deceit of the
heart, and to aid the novice in breaking off from besetting sins; to inspire a
resolution of crucifying the flesh, and to stimulate the soul to an ever onward
progress in sanctification; to meet the epidemic malady of our sinful nature,
which assumes so many shapes, and appears under such a variety of symptoms, with
a proportionate and well adapted variety of treatment; to help the believer to
beat down his foes under his feet, and amid all his various trials, temptations,
and difficulties, to continue steadfast, immoveable, and always abounding in the
work of the Lord, notwithstanding the counteracting influence of much unremoved
corruption in his heart—this, all this, must require in him who has to do it,
earnestness of the most collected and concentrated kind. To carry on the
ministry of reconciliation in this revolted world, with the intention and desire
of recovering its inhabitants from sin and Satan unto God, when the opposition
to be overcome is considered, must appear to every reflecting mind the most
hopeless of all human undertakings, apart from the aid of the Holy Spirit. It is
this alone that can induce us to continue in the ministry another hour. Without
this agency, we must retire in utter despair. But this is not to be conceived
of, much less expected, apart from human instrumentality; and man’s earnestness
is the very species of instrumentality which the Divine Agent employs. It is not
the feeble ministrations of the lukewarm and the negligent, that God blesses for
the conversion of souls—but the heart-breathed, fervent wrestlings of the ardent
and the diligent. He makes the winds his messengers, and flames of fire his
ministers.

There is then a double argument for earnestness, in the difficulties which are
to be subdued in the accomplishment of our object, and the necessity of the
cooperating agency of the Spirit of God. The former shows the indispensable
necessity of such earnestness, and the latter encourages us to put it forth.
Without it, we cannot look for the aid of the Spirit; and without the aid of the
Spirit, it would be exerted in vain. May we be able to take a right view both of
our obstacles and our resources!

III. Consider the aspect of the times, as affecting the human mind, and the
objects of our ministry. The view which has been just given of the difficulties
that lie in the way of the faithful minister, applies to all countries and to
all times, inasmuch as the depravity of human nature is co-extensive with the
race of man. But still there may, and do, exist circumstances to give greater
force to these difficulties, in one age and country, which are not found, at any
rate to the same amount, in others. The features of our own age are strikingly
impressive, and in no small degree hostile to the success of the gospel, and the
prevalence of evangelical piety. The sphere of human pursuits, whether we
consider the active or speculative departments, is filled with unusual energy
and excitement. Earnestness is the characteristic of the age. If we turn our
attention to TRADE, we see men throwing their whole soul into its busy
occupations, and laboring as if their salvation in another world depended upon
their success on earth. What ardor of competition; what rage for speculation;
what looking about for novel schemes, and what eagerness to embrace them when
offered; what hazardous and reckless gambling do we see all around us; leaving
out the impetus to all this which the railway system has introduced, and saying
nothing of the multitudes, who, instead of plodding onward in the beaten path of
regular trade, endeavor, by watching the stock market, to make one bound to
wealth—how engrossing are the pursuits of secular business, in these days of
large returns and small profits! Think of the consumption of time, and the
absorption of soul, which are necessary to maintain credit and respectability;
and also the strength of religious principle which is indispensable to follow
the things that are just, true, honorable, and of good report. How many
professors are in danger of being carried away, how many are carried away, by
the tricks, artifices, and all but actual dishonesties, of modern trade?

What but a powerful and energetic ministry can be expected to rouse and help
God’s professing people to bear up against, and to keep in check, much more to
subdue, this sordid and selfish spirit? What can be sufficient but an intense
devotedness on the part of ministers to make unseen and eternal things, bear
down the usurping power of seen and temporal things? Who but the man that knows
how to deal with invisible realities, and to wield the powers of the world to
come, can pluck the worldling from the whirlpool of earthly mindedness, which
sucks down so many, or prevent the professing Christian from being drawn into
it? If our own minds are not much impressed with the solemn glories and terrors
of eternity, we cannot speak of these things in such a manner as is likely to
rescue our hearers from the ruinous fascinations of Mammon. How we seem to want
a Baxter and a Doolittle; an Edwards and a Howe; a Whitfield and a Wesley—to
break in with their thunder upon the money-loving, money-grasping spirit of this
ungodly age!

Then think of the engrossing power of POLITICS. What a spell has come over the
popular mind from this source, since the tremendous outburst of the French
revolution! For more than half a century the potency of this subject has been
perpetually augmenting, until the rustic in the village, as well as the merchant
in the city; the recluse student of the cloister, no less than the man of the
exchange, have alike yielded themselves up to the influence of the newspaper,
now accommodated, not only to every party in politics—but to every creed in
religion, and at the same time cheapened down almost to the poorest member of
society. This is matter neither of surprise, nor provided it does not thrust out
of consideration other and still more important matters, of regret. It is but
the constitution of our country developing the energies of its popular element.
The people are claiming their share of power and influence; may they prepare
themselves by knowledge and piety to exercise it rightly!

While all this is obvious in the state of modern society, will anyone deny that
we need an earnest ministry to break in some degree the spell, and leave the
soul at liberty for the affairs of the kingdom which is not of this world? When
politics have come upon the minds, hearts, and imaginations of the people, for
six days out of the seven, invested with the charms of eloquence, and decked
with the colors of party; when the orator and the writer have both thrown the
witchery of genius over the soul; how can it be expected that tame, spiritless,
vapid common-places from the pulpit, sermons coming neither from the head nor
the heart, having neither weight of matter, nor grace of manner; neither genius
to compensate for the lack of taste, nor taste to compensate for the lack of
genius; and what is still worse, having no unction of evangelical truth, no
impress of eternity, no radiance from heaven, no terror from hell—in short, no
adaptation to awaken reflection, to produce conviction, or to save the soul; how
can it be expected, I say, that such sermons can be useful to accomplish the
purposes for which the gospel is to be preached? What chance have such
preachers, amid the tumult, to be heard or felt, or what hold have they upon
public attention, amid the high excitement of the times in which we live? Their
hearers too often feel, that listening to their sermons on the Sabbath, after
what they have heard or read during the week, is as if they were turning from
brilliant light, to the dim and smoking spark of a candle.

Another characteristic of our age is an ever-growing taste for elegance,
refinement, and luxurious gratification. I cannot wonder at this, nor, if it be
kept within proper bounds, greatly regret it. It is next to impossible that the
progress of art, and the increase of wealth, should not add to the
embellishments of life, and multiply the sources of tasteful enjoyment. But just
in proportion as we multiply the attractions of earth—is the danger of our
making it our all—and leaving heaven out of sight, and learning to do without
it. This is now affecting the church, and the hardy and self-denying spirit of
our practical Christianity is in danger of being weakened, and of degenerating
into a soft and sickly wastefulness. Elegance and extravagance, luxurious
entertainments and expensive feasts, are beginning to corrupt the simplicity
that is in Christ—and amid sumptuous buildings, gorgeous furniture, costly
dress, and mirthful decorations, professors of religion are setting their
affections too much upon things upon earth, and turning away from the glory of
the cross, to the vanities of the world. Who is to call them off from this
’painted pageantry’, and make them by God’s grace feel how vain are all these
things? Who can set up a breakwater against the billows of this ocean of
worldly-mindedness, and guard the piety of the church from being entirely swept
away by a flood of worldliness and ungodliness? Who but a pastor that can speak
in power and demonstration of the Spirit, a man who shall rise Sabbath after
Sabbath in the pulpit, clothed with a potency to throw into shadow, by his vivid
representations of heaven and eternity, all these ’painted nothings’, on which
his hearers are in danger of squandering their immortal souls?

Akin to this is a continually augmenting desire after AMUSEMENT, for which
droves of people are constantly yearning. A love for pleasure, diversion, and
recreation, is an ever-increasing appetite—and there are those who are ever
ingenious and ever busy to supply its demands. Godliness is no enemy to
reasonable enjoyment, even though it be not strictly scriptural; and those who
supplant the low and vulgar sensualities on which the multitude have fed, by
pleasures more refined and elevated, are doing service to their country and to
their species. But still, a taste for amusement, both mental and bodily, may be
carried too far, and many foreseeing and deeply reflective minds are of opinion
that it is prevailing too far now.

There cannot be a thoughtful mind, if it looks upon our sojourn in this world as
a probation for eternity—but must reflect with serious alarm and grief upon the
endless devices which are suggested by the wisdom that comes from beneath, to
hide from men their duty and their destiny as immortal creatures. It seems as if
by common consent, men were striving who should be most successful, by inventing
new kinds of diversions, to blot from the mind all considerations of eternity.

Pleasure-taking is the taste of the day, a taste which has been increased into
an appetite by the facilities for traveling afforded by railways. Before its
desolating influence, the sanctity of the Sabbath, and with it of course the
prevalence of godliness, are likely to be destroyed. It may be said that
anything is better than the ale-house and the gin-shop. This is freely
admitted—but it may be questioned whether some of the modern stimulants to
pleasure do not lead to, and not from, those scenes of iniquity. The people, it
is affirmed, must have recreation. Be it so—but let it be of a healthful kind,
and let the great aim of all who have any influence upon the public mind be to
endeavor to implant a taste for the recreations afforded by cheap and wholesome
literature, by quiet home enjoyments, and, above all, by the sacred delights of
true piety. In connection with this may be mentioned, as one particular species
of amusement, the taste for works of humor, which has much increased in this
country within the last ten years. There is no sin in mirth; man is made to
enjoy it, and there is a time to laugh as well as to weep. And he must be a very
people-hater, a vampire which in the dark night of sorrow would suck the last
drop of happiness from the human sufferer, who would forbid the smiles of
gladness, and everything which ministers to the gratification of the
laughter-loving heart. But it is a different thing from this, to wish to keep
this propensity within due bounds, to prevent it from becoming the staple of
life, and to remind men that they have other things to do in this world than to
laugh and be merry.

Vaughan says, "A fondness for grotesque jokes and everlasting caricature, bears
as little resemblance to manly feeling, as the ecstasies of a young lady over
the last new novel. Truth is a grave matter, and can owe little ultimately to
the services of a buffoon. It loses half its dignity, if often presented in
association with the ridiculous. Those who find their chief pleasure in broad
farce, are rarely capable of a due exercise of earnest and reverential feeling.
Your great wits do not spare their best friends, and your votaries of fun are
generally people prepared to sacrifice anything to their god. The mind which is
accustomed to pay much homage to the laughers, too often forgets to pay a real
homage to anything higher. In such a service, the fine edge of moral feeling is
almost of necessity worn away. Not that we should send a man to the gallows
because he has indulged a laugh. On the contrary, the man who cannot so indulge
is not a man to our liking. There is something wrong in him, physically,
mentally, and morally. All truly healthful men, in the spiritual as well as in
the natural sense, know how to enjoy their laugh. But your great laughers are
generally slow workers. To make a merriment of folly is not to displace it by
wisdom. Our proper business here is neither to grin nor to whine—but to be men.
We say not that good may never be done by means of ridicule—but we are convinced
that its general effect is such as we have ventured to indicate."

These are wise and true sayings, as seasonable as they are important, and called
for by the excessive taste for that species of composition which now prevails.
If anything need be added in corroboration of these arguments it is the fact
stated by the justly lamented Dr. Arnold, that since the publication of
periodical works of humor, he had perceived a visible declension of manly
sentiment and serious thoughtfulness among the elder boys of his school. This is
strong and decisive testimony as to the influence of a continued indulgence in
broad farce. Is there not precisely the same effect produced on the minds of our
young men? Nothing can be more opposed to the serious spirit which true
godliness requires, or more destructive of it, than this constant supply of new
materials for laughter. Nor does the mischief stop with the young and the
worldly, it is infecting the professors of religion. It is hard to conceive how
earnestness and spirituality can be maintained by those whose tables are
covered, and whose leisure time is consumed, by the bewitching inspirations of
the ’god of laughter’. There is little hope of our arresting the evil, except we
make it our great business to raise up a ministry who shall not themselves be
carried away with the torrent; who shall be grave, without being gloomy;
serious, without being melancholy; and who, on the other hand, shall be cheerful
without being frivolous, and whose chastened mirthfulness shall check, or at any
rate reprove, the excesses of their companions.

What a demand does this state of things prefer for the most intense earnestness
in our Sabbath-day exercises, both our prayers and our sermons! In this modern
taste we have a new obstacle to our usefulness of a most formidable kind, which
can be subdued only by God’s blessing upon our fidelity and zeal. Men are
needed, who shall by their learning, science, and general knowledge, give weight
to their opinions, and influence to their advice, in their private communion
with their flocks; and shall, by their powerful and evangelical preaching,
control this taste, and counteract it by a better. Nor must I omit to notice,
and to notice with peculiar emphasis, the impetus that is now given to the human
understanding through all its gradations, from the highest order of intellect
down to the humblest classes of the laboring population. I have already alluded
to this subject—but on account of its importance must here refer to it again,
and a little more at length. As regards the laboring classes, education is
advancing among them with rapid strides. The poor must, and will, be instructed.
The change of opinion on this subject that has come over a large portion of the
community within the last quarter of a century, is indeed marvelous; and instead
of tirades upon the danger of educating the people, we now hear from the same
people, diatribes upon the evils of ignorance. This is a happy change, and its
results will be auspicious—but they will not be without some temporary admixture
of evil. It is really refreshing to read the schemes which are now put forth for
the education of the working classes, by all parties in religion and politics.
And improvement in education is not confined, and cannot be confined, to the
lower classes. The ’universal mind’ is awakened, and in motion onwards—it is in
a state of intense excitement and irrepressible activity. Discoveries in
science, and inventions in art, come so fast upon us, that we have scarcely
recovered from the surprise produced by one, before another calls upon us to
indulge in new wonder. Feats of human skill, especially in the department of
engineering, are performed or projected, which make man, in the pride of his
intellect, feel as if nothing was impossible to him. As might be expected,
knowledge is flowing, by the thousand rills of the press and cheap books,
through every department of society. The annual expenditure of millions in cheap
literature shows to what extent information on all subjects is reaching all
classes from workmen upwards. Knowledge is the great idol around which the
multitudes are gathering to pay their homage and record their vows. Is there
anything in such a state of things at which the friends of godliness should take
alarm? Quite the contrary. Christianity began her career, as every novice in
history well knows, in the most enlightened age, and among the most polished
nations of antiquity; and has never from that moment to the present, shrunk from
the day-light of learning and science, to skulk in the darkness and gloom of
barbaric ignorance; and its ministers should ever be foremost as the patrons of
knowledge. But it is evident that such a state of things requires their
indomitable earnestness in the sacred duties of their calling, to secure for
godliness its due pre-eminence amid all the various claimants upon the public
attention. Allowing to general knowledge all the importance that is claimed for
it, it is not, apart from godliness, a ’universal remedy’, which can heal the
disorders, and restore the moral health of diseased humanity. There are some who
dream (and all history proves it to be but a dream), of repairing the moral
disorders of the world, by the principles of reason and the aid of secular
education. They think they can regulate society without godliness, and renew the
heart of man without God. We might ask them what philosophy did for such
purposes in Egypt its cradle, or in Greece its temple? They forget that by the
permission of Providence a grand experiment was made in the latter country,
during the five centuries next preceding the Christian era, by the sages of its
schools, to see what knowledge, apart from Divine revelation, could do to reform
the moral world, and make it virtuous and happy. We venture to call for the
result, and if the advocates of ’human reason’ refuse to give it, an apostle
shall supply the answer—"The world by wisdom knew not God." Still more in point
is his testimony in Romans 1:28-32.

It would seem as if, not satisfied with a single demonstration, our modern
philosophers were hazarding a second trial. Again with still greater advantages,
and with still greater confidence, they are flocking to the ordeal. Education is
to be improved and extended; the press is pouring forth its cheap literature;
science is broken down to such fragments, and measured out in such drops as even
children’s minds can receive and digest; and every appliance is to be furnished
to give effect to the knowledge thus communicated; lecturers on all subjects are
traveling through the country, and pouring forth streams of information in every
direction; while rational and invigorating amusements are to come in to aid the
general improvement. Those who believe in the sufficiency of knowledge alone to
"improve the taste and raise the morals of the nation", indulge in the largest
expectations that society will be morally reformed by these laborious efforts.
But, without a prophet’s eye, we may predict they are doomed to certain and
bitter disappointment. We may confidently anticipate that the second experiment
will have the same result as the first, and prove not only that the world by
wisdom will never know God—but that nothing less than ’the foolishness of
preaching’ will achieve its moral reformation. The state of our popular
literature, as molded to a considerable extent by these men, proves that the
experiment of teaching mankind to do without godliness, is going on. In much of
what is read by the masses, there is unconcealed hostility to Christianity.
Infidelity of the boldest and most daring kind is availing itself of many of the
cheap publications of the day, with an energy and a success that would astound
as well as alarm those who are not in the secret. But still many guides of the
popular mind, perhaps most of them, would not patronize this open assault upon
the foundations of our faith—they go a more insidious, though scarcely a less
injurious way to work. They act upon the principle that the best way to attack
godliness, and the least likely to shock prejudice and excite alarm, is to say
nothing about it, to treat the whole subject as a negation, a nonentity, a thing
to be forgotten, with which it is no part of their business to concern
themselves, and which may be left to float quietly to the gulf of oblivion. In
many cases false principles on the subject of revealed religion, are worked into
the staple of scientific books, and many readers are made infidels almost before
they are aware of the dreadful perversion. All that it is thought necessary to
provide for the millions, in the way of reading, is amusement and general
knowledge—and to a very great extent the object is accomplished. The laboring
classes, with increasing knowledge, are more and more alienated from godliness.
The masses are not won to Christianity—but sullenly stand aloof from it,
doubting whether it deserves their attention. In such a state of things, what
kind of ministry is it that is needed? The answer is easy—men of earnestness; of
earnest intellects, earnest hearts, earnest preaching, and earnest faith. Men
whose understanding shall command respect, whose manner shall conciliate
affection, and whose ministrations shall attract by their beauty, and command by
their power. The accessibility of the laboring classes gives us an advantage in
approaching them; neither prejudice nor fashion bars us out from them. We have
neither to scale the walls of bigotry, nor to silence or evade the dogs of angry
intolerance—the door is open, and we may walk in. But we must be men of the age,
men who understand it; and who know how to avail ourselves of its advantages,
and to surmount its difficulties. But I cannot do better here than refer to an
admirable article on ’the Modern Pulpit’, the following extract from which is to
the point.

"What is good preaching? Alas, how many answers would be given to this question!
And yet is not the true answer—the preaching by which souls are saved? Then, the
best preaching must be that by which the greatest number of souls are saved. In
order to that end, however, men must be brought within the sphere of the pulpit;
and to bring the greatest number of men within that sphere is the design of Dr.
Vaughan in his treatise, and it is ours. In one word, what we specifically lack
in the modern pulpit is, ’adaptation’. Now we have read a good deal in our time,
not more than enough, of the necessity of adapting the efforts of the pulpit to
the constitution of the human mind, to man’s moral nature, to his actual
condition as fallen, guilty, wretched, and exposed to future punishment. And not
seldom have we read most seasonable injunctions, addressed to our young
ministers, on the personal adaptation of their discourses to the condition of
individual men. All this we regard as of equal importance at all times, and in
all conceivable circumstances. But at present our aim is to excite as much
attention as we can to the truth, that along with these general and fixed
adaptations, there is required a constantly varying adaptation to the constantly
progressive changes of society." The writer then goes on to explain what he
means by this varying adaptation of the pulpit to the advancement in society, in
reference to one portion of it, the working classes.

"Education is raising these great masses of the community into higher degrees of
intellectual culture. New powers are at work. Incredible facilities are
multiplied for diffusing knowledge, spreading opinions, and increasing the
number of thinkers. Now in such an age, to say nothing of other views of
society, it is obviously the duty of evangelical preachers to adapt themselves
to the circumstances in which they are placed; not by withdrawing from the
pulpit the great themes of the gospel, and substituting for them philosophic
truth, or a rationalized gospel; but by such a general line of conduct with
reference to the circumstances of a growingly enlightened age, and such a strain
of preaching as shall lay hold of the public mind, and bring it under that
doctrine, which, and which only, is the power of God unto salvation. Let there
be a just estimate formed, and which to be just cannot be a low one, of the
mental powers of the common people; a judicious and hearty sympathy with their
real needs and reasonable wishes; a studious consideration of the means by which
the multitude shall be brought back to the sanctuaries of godliness, which they
have to a considerable extent deserted; an assiduous endeavor to connect the
functions of the pastor with the literary cultivation of the people. For these
purposes let there be correct information of their state of intellect, their
prevailing habits, their peculiar temptations, their literary tendencies and
aspirations, as to the books they read; let there be all this—but then let it be
only as so much power put forth to bring these masses under the influence of the
gospel. Oh, it were a noble triumph of the modern pulpit, to see men of strong
principle, and self-controlling wisdom, gathering round them the most boisterous
elements of our social atmosphere, conducting the lightnings with which its
darkest thunder-clouds are charged, and showing to the nation they have saved,
that the preaching of the cross is still the ’Power of God.’" Of course such an
enterprise of home-evangelization will require that our ministers shall be men
of action. Adaptation, then, there may be, and should be, in the sermons and the
general habits of the ministry, to the age in which they live, in the way of
laying hold of public attention, widening the sphere of their action, and adding
to their influence as preachers of the cross. Stronger intelligence, profounder
thinking, more logical argumentation, more varied illustration, more lively
composition, more refined sentiment, more genuine philosophy, may be required in
this, than in some preceding ages; but all must be in harmony with the
simplicity that is in Christ, and must appear only so much added to the height
or ornaments of a pedestal which is to exalt the Savior, and not to exhibit an
idol, however beautiful, in his place.

Having referred to the state of public opinion and feeling with reference to
godliness among the lower classes, it may not be amiss to glance at the higher
and more educated portions of the community. Many of these are moving in two
lines, or in a stream that divides into two channels; and flows in two diverging
directions; the devout and imaginative going off to ’ritualism’, and a large
part of the rest to ’philosophical infidelity’. Many of our men of letters have
adopted a loose, unsystematized theism, which is in some cases a new edition of
the opinions of our English deists of the last century; and in another, and a
still more numerous class, bears a strong affinity to the pantheistic or mystic
theory of the German philosophy. The disposition of modern science, in some of
its more illustrious votaries, is to retire from revealed religion, as if
ashamed to be seen in its company.

It is indeed a melancholy spectacle to witness such a man as Humboldt, whose eye
has seen so much of the visible universe, and whose pen has recorded so ably the
researches of his vast genius; whose intellect seemed formed by the Creator—not
only to study his works but to proclaim his glories—send forth such a work as
"Kosmos," and in that work declare it was no part of his business to trace the
wonders he describes, to their still more wondrous Author! How deeply painful to
see this high priest of nature officiating with such zeal and devotion at the
shrine of matter, and yet never throwing one grain of incense on the altar of
the Infinite Mind who made the worlds! Yet this is only a specimen of other
similar cases. Alas, alas, that such a mind should be so warped by the modes of
thinking prevalent among his countrymen, and should have sent forth perhaps his
last gift to the lovers of science, with the atheistic pantheism too obviously
interwoven in it! In such a view of the state and tendency of educated minds in
this age, I see an additional argument for an earnest, and at the same time
intelligent and educated ministry. We need men, and we are not without them
already, who can enter the lists and do battle with the seductive and dangerous
forms of error that have done such mischief on the continent of Europe, and are
likely, without great vigilance and stout resistance, to repeat the mischief
here also. The spirit of this atheistic philosophy is at the present moment
widely diffusing itself through the English and American mind. Education will no
longer be confined to literature and natural science. A disposition and
determination are formed to explore the ’world of mind’, as well as that of
matter, and to give to subjective studies a place, and that a very high one,
perhaps above the objective ones. Psychology is now the favorite pursuit of
great multitudes of reflective intellects, and will be still more so. The mind
of Germany is operating with power and success upon the mind of England, to an
extent which is surprising, and in some views of the case alarming. It is, one
would think, impossible to trace the progress of transcendentalism, and to see
how, as it diverged more and more widely from the metaphysics of our own land,
it has associated itself with rationalism in theology, and led on to pantheism
in philosophy—and not feel some apprehension for the result of its introduction
to this country.

Perhaps the ’practical character of the English mind’ will be one of our
safeguards against a system which to the great multitude must ever remain a
matter of mere scientific speculation. It may, however be feared that some of
our young ministers, and our students in theology, especially those of
speculative habits, captivated by the daring boldness, the intellectual vigor,
and the theoretic attractions of the great German philosophers, may too
adventurously launch forth on this dangerous ocean, and make shipwreck of their
doctrinal simplicity, and practical usefulness. Let them be assured that neither
the transcendentalism of Kant, nor the eclecticism of Cousin, is a safe guide
for men who would be useful in saving souls. The warning voice has already been
lifted up in high places on the other side of the Atlantic, where German
philosophy was likely at one time to be received with avidity; and there will
not be lacking voices to utter words of warning in this country also. It would
not only be useless—but unwise to treat this, or any other system of philosophy,
as the tree of knowledge of good and evil, which the command of God, and the
flaming sword of the cherubim forbid us to approach—this, as well as every other
object of human inquiry, may be studied, and by a cautious and discriminating
mind, may be studied with advantage. I would by no means contend that there is
nothing in the industry of German investigation, in its method of analysis, in
its habit of considering everything subjectively; or even in the systems which
are the fruits of its researches, which may not be borrowed with advantage by
ourselves; but I must raise my voice in emphatic protest against what I see
manifested by some in this country—the willing and entire surrender of the
understanding to a school, the masters of which have left us no gospel but a
fable, and no God but Nature. A work has lately made its appearance, which is
likely to be extensively circulated among those who have any taste for
philosophical studies, or any wish to become acquainted with German literature,
and which cannot fail to command attention, and will certainly secure for its
accomplished author the admiration and respect of his readers; I mean the
"History of Modern Philosophy," by the Rev. J. D. Morell. It is impossible to
deny that this gentleman unites to fidelity as an historian, the impartiality
and candor of a true philosopher, and great ability as a writer. It is on some
accounts a happy circumstance that such a subject has fallen into his hands,
since Mr. Morell’s attachment to evangelical truth, will qualify him, I trust,
to be a safe pilot for the English mind through the perilous seas he has
undertaken to navigate. It may be hoped that his own attachment to the
subjective system of philosophy will not lead his ardent readers and admirers to
go further in that direction than his own discriminating and well-balanced mind
would wish or approve; and I am quite sure that he would join with many, who are
perhaps more apprehensive than he, is of the influence of German philosophy, in
the opinion, that no more direct way can be taken by our young ministers to
hinder their usefulness, than to allow such studies to obscure the simplicity of
their thinking, or to deaden the energy of their manner, as preachers of the
gospel; and I hope that he would also most emphatically say, "Beware lest any
man spoil you (as preachers) through philosophy and vain deceit.

"What we need is, that the very system of doctrine which we now have, shall come
to us not in word only—but in power. As things stand at present, our creeds and
confessions have become effete, and the Bible a dead letter—and that orthodoxy
which was at one time the glory of our churches, by withering into the inert and
lifeless, is now the shame and the reproach of all our churches." (Chalmers)

Surely nothing more need be said to show and prove what kind of men are needed
for such an age, and to indicate that for times of such excitement, we must have
ministers of strong intelligence, simple faith, and entire devotedness. It is,
in every view we can take of it, an earnest age, and earnest men alone can at
such a time do anything anywhere, and least of all in the pulpit. Events, with
trumpet-call, summon us to our post, with every faculty awake, and every energy
engaged. Amid the din of business, of politics, of science, and of fashion; amid
the jests of laughers, the eloquence of orators, and the clamor of politics—the
voice of the preacher will not be heard, unless he speaks loudly. Nor shall he
be listened to, unless he speaks earnestly and intelligently. We shall gain no
heed for our holy religion—unless we put forth all our strength; it will be
pushed aside, overborne, trampled down in the jostling crowd—if we do not exert
our mightiest energies to bear it up, and to make way for it through the throng
and the strife of earnest secularities.

Let us not deceive ourselves by substituting anything else for this. It may be
all very well and proper in its place to keep pace with the times in which we
live as regards other matters; in classical, mathematical, and philosophical
literature, in academic degrees, in tasteful architecture; but these things, in
the absence of a living power of intense devotedness, will be but as flowers to
shed their fragrance upon our grave, or as sculpture to decorate our tomb!

IV. We may next contemplate the earnestness displayed by some other religious
bodies, with which, it may be truly said, we have to compete, and in some
instances to contend. And first of all let us look at the activity of the Church
of Rome. What a change has of late years come over that dreadful system, so far
as its external circumstances are concerned! Many are disposed to think lightly
of its present condition, efforts, prospects, and hopes—and it will be
acknowledged it is unwise and imprudent for Protestants to lend their aid in
magnifying the power and swelling the pride and expectations of the Man of Sin.
But it is no less unwise and imprudent on the other hand to miscalculate his
forces, to shut our eyes to his efforts, and to deny his victories. What we need
is just as much of alarm as shall rouse us to action, without producing panic;
enough of fear to lead us to buckle on our armor, and yet not so much as to
paralyze our energy. Look at the condition and prospects of Popery now, as
compared with what they were soon after the French revolution. Weakened by the
withering scorn of an infidel philosophy, to which its own corruption had given
rise, it was ill-prepared to sustain the shock of that solemn outbreak of human
passion, and fell an apparently lifeless corpse before it. The Gallican church
was subverted; its priests banished; its property confiscated; its places of
worship closed. A French army was in possession of Rome, and the Pope a prisoner
in France, while his adherents were trembling and dispersed in all parts of the
world. The opponents of Romanism exulted in the confidence that its days were
numbered, and its end was come. They exulted too soon. The lifeless corpse which
then lay prostrate in Europe, has since then shown signs of returning animation,
its wounds have been healed, it has risen from the earth, and recovering its
full health, is going forth at this time with giant strength to contend with
Protestantism for the mastery of the world.

Popery has gained political power in England. It is renewing its old fight in
France for the education of the people; its chapels, its priests, its bishops,
its monks, its missions, are everywhere multiplying. Its ancient craft and
cruelty are again called into activity, as Tahiti can witness. It is drawing
hundreds, if we include both clergy and laity, of influential people from the
Church of England, and tainting with its spirit hundreds more who remain behind
to diffuse the corruption still more widely. It has done much to blot from the
memory of statesmen its past history, and to hide from their eyes its hideous
form; and with an ardor kindling to an intense flame, and a hope flushed into a
stronger confidence by these victories, it is still going on from conquering to
conquer. Rome has however to set off against these bright signs, portents as
fearful and appalling—the confiscation of ecclesiastical property and the
dissolution of monasteries in Spain; the rapid defection going on in Germany;
the conversion to Protestantism of whole congregations and parishes in the south
of France; the rising spirit of free enquiry even in Italy; and the growth of
knowledge and the advance of education everywhere. The great battle of the
Reformation has to be fought over again, we are in the field of action, the
forces are mustered and the conflict going on; and we are unworthy of the
position and false to our vows if we do not give our best and noblest energies
to the cause. Let us take pattern from our foes, and imitate their intensity of
action. They are in earnest—if we are not. Were it possible for us to see a
perfect disclosure, in one bird’s-eye view, of all that is going on in the
Vatican—that most astounding instance of centralization, outside of the
bottomless pit—could we see the gigantic intellects, burning hearts, and busy
hands, that are working in that focus of all daring and mischievous attacks upon
the world’s intellectual and spiritual welfare, we would feel that we are safe
from the tyranny of that audacious system, only under the vigilance of the
Omniscient eye, and the protection of the Omnipotent arm. But that help and that
vigilance are not to be looked for by the supine and lukewarm, and can be
expected only by zealous activity and confiding prayer. (Since these pages were
written, what wondrous convulsions have shaken all, and revolutionized some, of
the nations by which the Papacy is upheld. While I write, the seat of the Beast,
the throne of Antichrist, is tottering. The Pope is a fugitive, Rome is in the
hands of the people, and Italy itself likely to become the domain of liberty!
What shall the end of these things be?) But this is not the only instance of
earnestness which we should contemplate, and from which we should gain a
stimulus for our own activity. The Church of England also is in earnest. Many of
us can recollect the time when it was not so. A pervading secularity
characterized her clergy; a drowsy indifference her people. If the clergy got
their tithes, and ate, drank, and were merry; and the people got christening,
confirmation, and the sacrament when they died—it was all they cared for. The
only thing that moved either of them to a pang of zeal, was the coming of the
Methodists into the parish; and when they were mobbed away, they relapsed again
into their former apathy. Exceptions there were, bright and blessed—but they
were only exceptions. Thank God it is not so now. A vivifying wind has swept
over the valley of dry bones, and an army not only of living—but of life-giving,
men has sprung up. Venn, Berridge, and Romaine; Newton, Cecil, and Simeon, have
lived and have awakened a new spirit in the church to which they belonged. Look
at that church as she is now to be seen, full of energy and earnestness—divided
it is true into parties, as to theological opinion; to a considerable extent
Romanized in her spirit, and aggressive in her designs; but how instinct with
life, and a great deal of it life of the best kind! Even the clergy are all now
active, preaching, catechizing, visiting the sick, instituting and
superintending schools. The day is happily gone by when the taunt of
fox-hunting, play-going, ball-frequenting parsons, could be with justice thrown
at the clergy of the State-church—they are now no longer to be found in those
scenes of folly and vanity—but at the bed-side of the sick man, or in the
cottage of the poor one. We must rejoice in their labors and in their success,
except when their object and their aim are to crush Dissenters. There are very
many among them of the true apostolic succession in doctrine, spirit, and
devotedness—many whose piety and zeal we would do well to emulate—many to be
united with whom in the bonds of private friendship and public co-operation, is
among the felicities of my life.

Sincerely and cordially attached to their church, they are laboring in season
and out of season, to promote its interests. Who can blame them? Instead of
this, let us imitate them. Their zeal and devotedness are worthy of it. I know
their labors, and am astonished at them. Think of a clergyman, and multitudes of
such there are, who, besides his other labors, spends four or five hours every
day in going from house to house, visiting the sick, instructing the ignorant,
comforting the distressed. Can we wonder that such men should lay hold on the
public mind? Is it not in the natural course of things that it should be so? It
is admitted that the clergyman of a parish has advantages for this species of
pastoral occupation which we have not—he considers all the people within a
certain topographical limit as belonging to him, as being in fact his charge;
and most, if not all, of them, except such as by profession belong to other
denominations, look upon him in the light of their minister. This ever active
assiduity, in addition to the Lord’s-day exercises, is admonitory to us. Can we
see this new sight, the whole Church establishment, from the Archbishop of
Canterbury down to the curate of the smallest village, with all their
comprehensive agency of Pastoral Aid Societies, Ladies’ District Visiting
Societies, Scripture Readers, Church of England Tract Societies, and other means
of influence and power, in busy commotion, dotting the land all over with
churches and schools, and by all these efforts laboring so entirely to occupy
the nation, as to leave no room for, and to prove there is no need of, any other
body of Christians. Can we have all this constantly before our eyes, and not see
our need of an earnest ministry, not only if we would maintain our ground—but
make any advance? Not that I mean to assert that the evangelical clergy would
altogether wish to push us off the ground. I believe there are many who
unfeignedly rejoice in the existence, operations, and success, both of the
Methodists and Dissenters, and who would consider it a deep calamity for the
nation if they were arrested in their career of evangelical ministration. The
spirit of the Evangelical Alliance is diffusing itself abroad. Sectarianism is,
I hope, beginning to wither at the root; and Christian charity is grappling with
the demon of bigotry. But still we are at present not prepared for the fusion
and amalgamation of all parties into one, and until then we may learn from each
other; and with the most entire goodwill towards my brethren in the Church of
England, without envy or jealousy, I call upon my other brethren, those within
my own denomination, to imitate the zeal among the clergy of the Establishment,
of which they are witnesses.

I am a Dissenter from conviction, as well as by education, and know not the lure
which would induce me, or the suffering which would terrify me, to abandon my
principles. I believe as I ever have believed, since I reflected upon the
subject, that the Establishment of religion by the enactments of secular
legislation—has no sanction from the New Testament—is a corruption of
Christianity—and is injurious to its spirit. And I believe the time will come,
when the same views will be entertained by all the genuine followers of Christ;
hence I am, and ought to be, anxious, while I cultivate a spirit of brotherly
love towards those who differ from me, to uphold, though without wrath, malice
or any uncharitableness, the denomination by which my conscientious opinions are
embodied and expressed.

Dissenters of England, and especially Dissenting ministers, I say therefore unto
you, be in earnest; first of all, and chief of all, in attachment to the
doctrines of evangelism, to the creed of Protestantism, to the great principles
which God has employed in every age and country where true religion has had
existence, to vitalize the dead, and purify the corrupt, world. Be it your
prayer, your endeavor, your hallowed ambition, to possess a ministry of
competent learning, and especially of soundly evangelical sentiment; a ministry
which as regards their pulpit ministrations, shall be the power of God to the
salvation of souls; a ministry which in the simplicity of their discourses and
the intensity of their zeal, the fervor of their piety, and the
all-comprehending extent of their labors, shall vie with the best specimens of
the clergy of the Church of England. There is earnestness among them, and if we
would not be swallowed up in the rising tide of their zeal, let us meet it with
a corresponding intensity. Let each minister, in his own separate and individual
sphere of action, set himself to work, and put forth all his energies, without
waiting for cooperation with others. Not that I speak against cooperation. We
have far too little of it, and this is our weakness. In polity we are too
independent, and should be vastly improved as regards our internal condition and
our external influence, if we were more compact. But as to pastoral earnestness,
we need not wait for others—each man can do what he wills, and may do much,
though no other man did anything. Pastoral activity, like Christian piety, is a
matter of individual obligation, and no one is so dependent upon his neighbors,
that he needs to halt until they are ready to march with him. Nor is it
necessary nor proper, advocate though I am of the Evangelical Alliance, that we
should be silent as to our views of the spirituality of Christ’s kingdom. As we
are not to sacrifice love for truth, so neither are we to sacrifice truth for
love, nor to throw away a smaller diamond of truth out of regard to a larger
one. All truth must be held, as well as all love. I differ from some of my
brethren in my views of certain confederations for the maintenance and spread of
our Nonconformity, because I believe that whatever good they may do in one way,
they do more harm in others; but I do not differ from them in my conviction that
our principles ought, as a part of the New Testament, to be taught, and to be
taught with earnestness. If true, they must be important, and if important at
all, very important—subordinate I know, immeasurably so, to the doctrines
whereby men are saved; but still of consequence. Provided the gross
misrepresentation, the exaggerated statement, the studied caricature, the
uncharitable imputation, the withering sarcasm, the bitter irony, and the
malevolent ridicule—be expunged from controversy, and there be as much of the
delicacy of love, as there is of the firmness of truth, there can be no harm—but
must be much good, not only in stating our own opinions—but in answering those
who differ from us. All systems of church-polity derive their value and
importance from their subserviency to the cause of evangelism.
Church-of-Englandism or Dissent apart from this, is but as the pole without the
healing serpent which it was erected to exhibit; and to be zealous about either,
except as viewed in reference to the truth as it is in Jesus, is but like
contending about the wood of the cross, to the neglect of the Savior who was
crucified upon it.

How, then, are we to meet that abounding zeal which we ourselves perhaps have
been in no small degree the occasion of awakening—but by a corresponding vigor
of action? We cannot advance, no we cannot keep our ground, without it. We have
to contend against an energy which is astounding and all but overwhelming; and
if this cannot move us to earnestness, nothing will.


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  CHAPTER 22: 02.08.     MOTIVES TO EARNESTNESS CONTD
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V. This state of mind and action is within the reach of every minister of
Christ.

Some men, from natural energy of character, may be more prone to, and better
qualified for, this fervid and devoted zeal, than some others. They are of a
more mercurial temperament than their phlegmatic brethren, who creep while they
fly, and who require more stimulus to rouse them into activity, than is
necessary to keep the others at their full speed. This is constitutional to a
very considerable extent; but it is after all, more of a moral than a natural
inability in many; and the sinners whom they address and call to repentance, and
to whom they declare that the only hindrance they have to true religion is an
impotence of will, are just as excusable for their lack of penitence and faith,
as any minister under heaven is for a lack of earnestness. He may never be able
to be a scholar, or a philosopher, or a mathematician, though he may acquire
more of all these attainments than he supposes is within his reach, if he will
but give himself to early rising, make a good apportionment of his time, and
adopt a well-arranged plan of study. His situation and engagements may be such,
however, that he may not hope to rise to eminence in these pursuits. But nothing
forbids his activity, zeal, and entire devotedness to the great work of
preaching the gospel, and caring for men’s souls. He may not be a consummate
orator, for perhaps he has not voice for this; but he may, if he pleases, use
what voice he has with good effect; he may not have the ability required for
finished composition; but he can, if he gives time and labor, produce sermons
full of spiritual power—he may not be able to attract around him the rich, the
literary, or the great; but he can interest the poor, and engage the children of
the Sunday-school, and perhaps, their parents; he may not have ten talents—but
he need not wrap up his one in a napkin and bury it in the earth. Every man has
one talent at least, with which he can busily trade and acquire profit for his
employer and reward for himself.

If the pride of some men over-estimate the number of their talents; the modesty,
or in some cases the indolence, of others, leads them to make too low a
calculation of theirs. There is a source of latent energy in most men, which
they have been so far from exhausting, that they have scarcely opened it; they
have in many cases to break up virgin soil. I knew a minister of Christ, and
loved him well, who was in a situation where he had done little, and feared he
never should do more. Everything was dull around him, and he was dull with it.
It pleased God to remove him to a new situation, and then he became a new man.
He revived from his torpor, and everything revived around him. He now evinced an
activity and energy which surprised himself and those who knew him. He formed a
new congregation, instituted a variety of religious organizations of a useful
kind, and was one of the most earnest men I knew. All this energy was not a new
creation—but a resurrection. So it might be with many other ministers.
Principles of activity are within them, only waiting for the influence of
circumstances, or their own will, to give them life, motion, and vigor. Away
then with the excuses of indolence, the fears of timidity, the objections of
modesty, and the opiates of conscience; for it is these which prevent a man from
being zealously affected in a good thing.

Every minister can be an earnest minister if he so wills—he is earnest when
anything in which he has a deep interest is at stake. Let his house be on fire,
or his health or life be in danger, or his wife or child be in peril, or some
means of greatly augmenting his property be thrown in his way, and what
intensity of emotion and vehemence of action will be excited in him! He needs
but the pressure upon his conscience of the interests of immortal souls; he
needs but a heart so constrained by the love of Christ, as to be borne away by
the force and impetuosity of that hallowed passion; he needs but a longing
desire to be wise in winning men to Jesus; he needs, in fine—but a heart fully
set to accomplish the ends and objects of his office, to possess that high and
noble quality of soul which it is the object of this work to recommend.

There are the same constitutional varieties in tradesmen as in ministers, and
yet we never hearken to the former, when in justification of their failure for
lack of energy, they tell us they have no physical capacity for, or tendency to,
activity. Our reply to them is, that what is deficient in them by nature, must
be made up by reason and resolution. I say the same to the preacher of the
gospel, and while by the representation I would constrain his conscience by a
sense of obligation, I would equally aim to interest his heart by awakening his
hope. He may never with his measure of talent be able to reach the success of
some more gifted and more favored brethren; but he may have a measure of his
own, far more than enough to recompense any labor he may bestow; and instead
therefore of spending his time in envying others, or sitting down in despair and
doing nothing, because he cannot do as much as they, let him rise up, and have
the blessed consciousness and reward of doing what he could.

Young ministers of the gospel, and students preparing for the ministry, who may
read these pages, you can possess and exhibit real earnestness—all its
delightful excitement, all its blessed results, and all its eternal
consequences, are within your reach. There is no lion in the street, except such
as your own imagination sees there, and your own sloth has placed there. Make
the effort, it is worth the making—try, you can but fail, and it is better to
fail, than not to make the attempt. Think what a result may issue from new
devotedness. We have never yet any of us adequately estimated the immense
importance and momentous consequences of our work. How can we? They are eternal,
and who can duly estimate eternity? Do we believe what we preach, that the
conversion of a soul is of more consequence than the creation of a world? Is
this sober truth, or mere rhetoric? Is this fact, or the mere garniture of a
sermon; only a dash of eloquence, an artifice of oratory? If true, and we know
it is so, how momentous it is! A soul, weigh it in the balances of the
sanctuary, and settle its worth; appraise its value. Salvation! wondrous word,
and more wondrous thing. One word only—but containing millions of ideas; uttered
in a moment—but requiring everlasting ages, and all the amplitude of heaven, for
the unfolding of its meaning.

Archbishop Williams, once uttered this memorable speech—"I have passed through
many places of honor and trust both in Church and State, more than anyone of my
order for seventy years before; but were I assured, that by my preaching I had
converted one soul to God, I would therein take more comfort than in all the
honors and offices that have ever been bestowed upon me." What a confession from
an archbishop, that he did not know he had been the instrument of converting a
single soul to God; what importance does the confession stamp upon the work of
saving souls; and what a stimulus should it supply to us who are engaged in this
divine employment!

How vain and worthless a thing is the popular applause which some receive for
their eloquence, compared with the proofs of usefulness in the conversion of
immortal souls? What are the flatteries of the foolish or even the eulogies of
the wise; what the honeyed compliments, or golden opinions of the most
distinguished circle of admirers, weighed against the testimony of one redeemed
sinner whom we have been the instrument of saving from death—but as the small
dust in the balance! How have some men, preeminent for their intellectual might,
and accustomed to fascinate the spell-bound multitude by the power of their
eloquence, yearned amid all their popularity for some more substantial,
satisfying, and abiding reward of their labor, than that admiration of their
talents, which they were accustomed to receive! They were not unsusceptible to
the emotions of vanity, nor ungratified by the expressions of applause, at the
time—but when they found that this was all the result of their labors, they
sickened at the incense and the honey, and exclaimed in the bitterness of
disappointment, and the anguish of self-reproach, "Is this all my reward? Oh,
where are the souls I have converted from the error of their ways?"

We have a striking proof of this in the late Dr. McAll, whom it was my privilege
to call my friend. It was impossible for this extraordinary man to be ignorant
either of his great powers, of the estimate in which they were held, or of the
effect they produced on others by his pulpit exercises. Nor was he by any means
unsusceptible of the influence of applause. But how empty did this appear to him
as compared with the abiding results of real usefulness; which if he had not
enjoyed in such large measures as some others, it was not for lack of any
concern to obtain it. "Deeply affected was he often," says Dr. Leifchild, "by
the fear of not being useful in his ministry." "I have admiration enough," he
would say, "but I want to see conversion, and Christian growth in the converts."
He spoke of some other neighboring ministers, whose churches he said resembled a
garden which the Lord had blessed, or whose spots of verdure were more vivid
than his own; but added, that his emotions in making the comparison, partook of
a character that absorbed or overwhelmed him with sorrow for himself. I remember
on one occasion after a brilliant speech from himself he listened to a much
plainer and less oratorical brother, whose address, however, seemed to be
penetrating the minds of the audience, and produced on their countenances an
appearance of being deeply affected. At that moment, the speaker hearing a loud
sobbing behind him, turned round; it was McAll. "Ah," he said afterwards, "I
would give the world to be able to produce that effect in such a legitimate
way." Though the desire thus ardently breathed, was elicited on the platform, it
extended to every description of pastoral address. "Oh," said he to Mr. Griffin,
again and again, "I care nothing what the people may think or say of my
abilities if I may but be useful to souls!" and once with a kind of swelling
indignation, "God knows, I do not want their applause, I want their salvation."
This is eminently instructive and impressive, and is one of the most convincing
instances which the history of the pulpit can furnish of the worthlessness,
compared with the salvation of immortal souls, of every object of pastoral
pursuit, and every other reward of pastoral labor. This was not the confession
and lamentation of one whose envy led him to depreciate the value of that which
he had no hope of obtaining—but of one who was the admiration of every circle
into which he entered, and whose surprising talents commanded the plaudits of
all who heard him. How much of the power of that vast intellect, of that
splendid eloquence, and of the admiration and eulogies which they drew upon him,
would Dr. McAll have given up for a portion of the usefulness, which he saw was
granted to the humbler but more effective talents of some of his far less gifted
brethren. Let the men who are but too apt to envy such displays of genius, and
who, when they see the spell-bound multitude listening in breathless silence, or
dispersing with audible applause, fret because they cannot do as much with their
enchantments, study the scene before us—let them follow Dr. McAll home from the
crowded, fascinated, admiring congregation, leaving behind him the atmosphere
perfumed and vocal with the delight of his hearers, to commune with God and his
own heart in his closet, and there hear him exclaiming with a burst of agony,
"Lord, who has believed our report, and to whom has your arm been revealed?" Let
them mark all this, and learn that, in the estimation of the most gifted minds,
there is no object of pursuit so sublime, and no reward for pastoral labor so
rich, as the salvation of immortal souls!

VI. We may next direct our attention to the fact that earnestness has usually
been successful in the accomplishment of its object—and that little has ever
been achieved without it.

I admit, and in the conclusion of this work shall more emphatically state, the
necessity of a Divine influence to convert the soul; but still the Spirit works
by means, and by means best adapted to accomplish the proposed end. We do not
look for the Spirit to convert souls without the truth; it is by the
presentation of this to the judgment, and by the co-working of Divine grace upon
the heart, that the great change of regeneration is effected. It is evident,
however, that this blessed result can take place only in those cases where the
truth is really contemplated. The attention must be fixed upon it, or no result
can take place. Attention, and to a certain extent abstraction of mind, may be
said to be essentially necessary to the work of conversion. Hence those
preachers are not only likely to be most useful—but are most useful, who have
the greatest power of fixing their own attention upon the truth, and holding the
mind abstracted from all other topics. When the attention is by their manner of
preaching withdrawn from foreign matters, and fixed upon the truth then
presented, the Spirit in a way of sovereign mercy gives forth his influence to
change the evil bias of the heart towards the truth thus exhibited. We perceive
in different preachers very various kinds of power to engage the attention—some
do it by their commanding eloquence; others by their impressive delivery; others
by their burning ardor; others by their melting affection; and some even by
their eccentricity; but amid all these specific varieties of manner, we shall
find power to arrest and fix the attention. A preacher may be immeasurably
inferior to many others in the vigor of his intellect and richness of his
imagination, and yet may be very far their superior in seizing and holding the
minds of his hearers. We cannot hope to do good if we do not succeed in gaining
the attention of our hearers, and our expectations of accomplishing the objects
of our ministry may be indulged with much confidence, if we can so preach as to
compel our hearers to listen to us. There is a striking incident mentioned in
the "Life and Remains" of Mr. Cecil, that master of pulpit eloquence. He was
once invited to preach in a village, where the joyful sound of evangelical truth
was rarely heard in the parish church, and where he thought it probable he
should have no other opportunity to proclaim it. To his mortification, when he
got half way through the sermon, he perceived that he had not succeeded in
gaining that close attention of the people which he deemed essential to the
success of his sermon. The time was going by, the case seemed desperate, and it
occurred to him that something must be done, or the opportunity was lost; and
pausing for a moment where the subject admitted of his trying his experiment, he
said with some degree of that impressiveness which pertained to him, "Last
Monday morning a man was hanged at Tyburn!" and then went on to make the recent
execution bear upon the subject of discourse. The expedient of course succeeded,
the wandering eyes of the congregation were fixed upon the preacher, and their
truant minds upon the sermon. He gained their attention, and it was riveted to
him throughout the remainder of the discourse. Such self-possession is a noble
qualification for a public speaker—and the lesson taught by the anecdote is,
that we must have the attention of our congregations, or we can do them no good;
and that the more we command this, so as to lead them to think of the truth, the
more likely we are to do them good. The history of all successful preachers will
prove that amid a vast variety of means of gaining attention, they each had the
power of doing so, and in that power lay the secret of their success.

Let any one who is at all in doubt whether the importance of earnestness is
overstated in this work, consider who among departed ministers have been, and
who among living ones are, the most distinguished as successful preachers of the
word of God. If he applies this to the fathers and founders of Nonconformity, he
will find that in the first rank stand Baxter, Bunyan, Doolittle, Clarkson,
Flavel, Heywood, and Howe—and when he has read their glowing, pungent, and
powerful appeals to the hearts and consciences of their hearers, he will not
wonder that such sermons effected the high purpose for which all sermons should
be preached, that is, the conversion of sinners. Coming on to latter times, it
is unnecessary, after what has been said, to mention Whitfield and Wesley,
except to reiterate that in addition to other high and nobler qualities,
earnestness was the great means of their extensive success. They lived and
labored for scarcely anything else than the salvation of immortal souls. As a
proof of the intensity of their zeal, reference may be made to the race of men
into whom they breathed the fervor of their own souls, and whom they raised up
to carry on their own great work. With here and there an exception, the present
race of Methodist and Dissenting ministers are stiff, formal, cold-hearted men,
compared with not only the leaders—but the immediate followers of those
illustrious instruments of the modern revival of evangelical religion. How few
of us are worthy to be mentioned with Coke and Fletcher, Rowland Hill, Berridge,
and Grimshaw; with Cecil, Newton, and Romaine. What men were raised up in Wales
by the Whitfield movement, Daniel Rowland, Jones of Llangan, Howell Harris, and
their successors, John Elijah, Christmas Evans, and Williams of the Wern; men
who caused the mountains of their romantic country to echo to their mighty
voices, and who filled its vallies with the fruits of their impassioned oratory!
If we look across the Atlantic, what a wonderful man do we discover in Jonathan
Edwards, whose printed sermons, which were only in accordance with his ordinary
ministry, are full of such earnestness as he exhibited in the specimen given
earlier in this work, and whose ministry was so full of its successful results.
Call to recollection Stoddard, Bellamy, Dwight, Davies, who in the land of the
pilgrim fathers diffused abroad by their unreserved devotedness the savor of
that Name which is above every name. In Scotland there have been the Erskines,
the McLaurins, the Walkers, the Dicksons, and others of bygone days, whose
remains tell us how they handled the word of God, and whose memoirs inform us of
their success. In these venerated men we see the secret of all pastoral power;
desire amounting to fervor for the conversion of sinners, and adaptation in
their preaching to accomplish it.

If the illustrious company of reformers, who next to the apostles, present the
most magnificent examples of burning zeal, be not referred to, if the majestic
and mighty Luther, the profound Calvin, the heroic Zwingle, the intrepid Knox,
the elegant and classic Melancthon, are passed over, it is not only because they
are too well-known to need a mention—but also because they may be thought too
high above the ordinary sphere of pastoral activity to be imitated—and yet if
the pattern of the great Master himself is placed before us for contemplation
and imitation, surely that of the most renowned of his servants need not be
withheld. What singleness of aim, unity of purpose, and concentration of energy,
were there in those rare and extraordinary men, and what less could have carried
them on and through their noble career!

Descending to others, what men have been with us in the recollection of the
present generation; the horizon has scarcely even yet ceased to glow with their
radiance; the original and striking Fuller, the mighty Hall, the seraphic
Pearce, and the lion-hearted Knibb; the intellectual Watson, and the masculine
Bogue; the eccentric yet generous Wilks, the judicious Roby, the mild yet
persuasive Burder, the pathetic Waugh, the wise and tender Griffin, the
captivating and lovely Spencer, and the eloquent McAll. Honored be their names,
fragrant their memories, and precious the recollection of their example! May we
who survive cherish the recollection of their life and labors, and never forget
that their greatness and their usefulness arose not more from their talents,
than from their devoted earnestness in the cause of evangelical truth. But
coming to other and living examples, more upon the ordinary level, it may be
well to look around upon those by whom in our own day, and before our own eyes,
the ends of the Christian ministry and the object of evangelical preaching are
most extensively accomplished, and to inquire by what order of means this has
been done. It would be invidious to mention the names of living men, and to
select from among the multitude those who are pre-eminent above their fellows in
usefulness, in popularity, and in the constant exhibition of evangelical truth.
Two names, however, may here obtain a place, honored by us all, and an honor to
us; the names of men widely differing, yet of equally conspicuous and
acknowledged excellences, who are too far above us to excite our envy, and whose
celebrity will defend this willing, affectionate, and admiring testimony, from
the charge of invidious selection or fulsome adulation; and who, each in his own
sphere, one in the northern and the other in the southern hemisphere, is
shedding the luster of an evening star, and reflecting upon the church the glory
of that great Sun of Righteousness, in whose attraction it has been his delight
through a long, and holy, and useful life, to revolve—who yet live, and long may
they live, that our younger ministry may learn in the holy labors of Chalmers *
and Jay, how beautiful and how useful is human genius when sanctified by grace,
and devoted to an earnest preaching of the gospel of salvation.

* Alas, that so soon after this paragraph was penned, one of these venerated
names should be expunged from the record of living men, and added to the list of
the illustrious dead! Yes, the mighty Chalmers is gone; and to quote the
address, selected by Mr. Jay as his funeral text for Rowland Hill, we may utter
the wail and exclaim, "Howl, fir tree, the cedar has fallen! "The very glory and
pride of Lebanon has fallen, and every one who surveys the gap which his removal
has made in the forest, feels that there is no source of consolation under such
a bereavement—but that which is supplied by the consideration that the Lord
lives. It is beyond my ability to describe or to eulogize this wonderful man,
whose death has clothed the whole church of God in mourning; I would therefore
only say that ever since his vast intellect was irradiated by the light of
truth, and his noble heart was brought by faith under the constraint of love to
Christ, he has exhibited one of the finest specimens of the character I have
attempted to delineate in this volume; so that every student of divinity in our
colleges, and every minister of every denomination, may be directed to Dr.
Chalmers, as one of the most beautiful types and models of an Earnest Minister.
Dr. W. Lindsay Alexander’s funeral sermon, which contains an admirable analysis
of his mind and character, will well repay perusal. But we are not considering
now what may be done, and is done, by the gifted few, who by their rare
endowments are fitted, and designed, to enrich our theological literature by
their valuable works, or to gather around our pulpits the literary or
philosophical spirits of the place in which they dwell; they are the exceptions
in all denominations to the general rule of preachers, even as those who listen
to them are the exceptions to the general rule of hearers. Our remarks apply to
the men who move the masses, who operate upon the popular mind as it is most
commonly found; and what are they? not men of high scholarship, profound
philosophy, or elegant composition; but men of energy and earnestness, men
laying themselves out for usefulness, men of business and of tact in the
management of their fellow-men, men of heart, of feeling, and perseverance.
Where is a large congregation, a flourishing, well-compacted church to be found?
There is an earnest man. Where, in what country, or in what denomination, does
one such man labor without considerable success? Where has the faithful,
devoted, energetic preacher of evangelical truth, to use in a figurative sense
the words of the Lord’s forerunner, had to say, "I am the voice of one crying in
the wilderness?" Where do we find small congregations, dissatisfied or declining
churches, and empty chapels? Where do the ways of Zion mourn, and her gates
languish, because none come to her solemn feasts? Certainly not where the
ministers are as flames of fire. No matter where, or under what discouraging
circumstances, one of these sacred flames may commence his labors, he will soon
draw around him a deeply interested and attentive congregation; no matter what
may be the denomination with which he may be associated, he will not only excite
the indifference, or subdue the prejudice, by which he is surrounded—but will
awaken interest and conciliate regard. Under the magic power of his devotedness,
blessed as it will be by God the Spirit, the gloom, desolation, and sterility of
winter, will be followed by the verdure and beauty of spring; and the wilderness
and the solitary place shall be glad for him, and the desert rejoice and blossom
as the rose. In some cases the change has been as sudden and as complete as in
Russia, from frosts and snows to flowers and fragrance—churches that seemed only
the repositories of the dead, and places for monuments and epitaphs, have become
crowded with living and listening hearers of the joyful sound—and chapels once
far too large for the last remains of a former congregation, have been soon
found too small for the new one that has filled up its place.

It would be a profitable exercise for anyone to look round upon some of our most
successful ministers, and after surveying the extent of their usefulness, to say
to himself, "How has that man done this? What have been the means by which,
under God, he has accomplished so much?" Unhappily there are a few, perhaps, who
are so enamored by what is literary, intellectual, or philosophical, that even
in great pastoral success, they see little to admire or to covet, if it be not
associated with scholarship and science. This is a bad state of mind, indicates
a worse state of heart, and proves that the man who is the subject of it, has
totally mistaken the end of the pastoral office. Some of our most useful
preachers are far more conscious of their deficiencies in literature and
philosophy than these supercilious scholars may imagine, and would purchase, at
almost any cost, if they could be obtained, by money, the attainments which
their limited education never enabled them to acquire; but at the same time they
would not give up their usefulness for all the literature of Greece and Rome,
with all mathematics and philosophy in addition—and amid their deficiencies in
all that would give them weight and influence in the world of letters, they feel
adoringly thankful for all that other kind of weight and influence which they
have acquired in the church. Their labors in the pulpit have gained them an
acceptance which is far more surprising to themselves than it can be to others.

Peradventure also, they may have launched on the sea of authorship, and have had
a prosperous course, where many expected they must soon make shipwreck. None can
be more sensible than themselves of defects in their compositions, and often
they have been ready to blame their presumption in taking up their pen, and to
resolve to lay it down forever; when perhaps some instance of usefulness has
come to their knowledge, as if to reprove their vanity, wounded by a sense of
their own deficiencies, and to make them thank God, and take courage. They knew
their own department of literary action, and aimed at nothing higher than to be
useful; willing to bear the sneer of literary pride, and endure the lash of
critical severity, so that they might accomplish the only objects of their
ambition, the salvation of immortal souls, and the establishment of believers in
their holy faith.

Such men there are among us, who owe their success not to a finished education,
for it was their misfortune not to enjoy this precious advantage to the extent
to which it is now carried; nor to high scholarship, to which they make no
pretensions—but to an intense desire to be useful, and to something of
earnestness in carrying out the desires of their hearts. In addition to the
direct usefulness of their labors, they may be useful in another way, by showing
that where great literary acquisitions have been precluded, still simple
earnestness without them, may be blessed of God for accomplishing in no
inconsiderable extent the great ends of the Christian ministry.

It has been said, in reference to secular matters, that a man who has decision
of character enough to make up his mind to be rich; who has a measure of talent
to uphold his resolution; and a rigid system of self-denying economy, will
ordinarily succeed—and observation seems to support the remark. With far greater
certainty may it be said, that he who enters upon his ministry with an intense
zeal for God; an ardent passion for the salvation of souls; a well sustained,
deep piety, a tolerable share of talents and acquirements; and a fixed purpose
in humble dependence upon God’s grace, to be a useful minister of Christ, will
not fail of his end. The failure of such a man would be a new thing in the
earth. I know of no such case, and I do not expect to meet with one. In dealing
with sinners and calling them to repentance, we tell each, he may be saved if he
will—not intending by such an expression that he can be saved without the Spirit
of God; but that he may secure that Divine power if he has faith to receive
it—so we may also venture to say to every minister of Christ, it is his own
fault if he is not useful; intending by such an assertion, that as the gospel he
preaches is God’s own truth; as preaching is his own institute; as the minister
is his own servant; and as He has promised that his grace shall be added to
them, it would seem as if in the case of entire or extensive failure, a minister
has himself only to blame. But we may look at the power of earnestness, as seen
in the cause of error as well as in that of truth. It has as often served a bad
cause as it has a good one. Islamism owes its existence and its wide dominion to
this quality in its extraordinary founder. Mohammed exhibits one of the most
amazing instances of this quality the world ever witnessed; and with what
dreadful results was it followed in his case!

We may say the same of Popery; that stupendous fabric of delusion, which throws
its dark and chilling shadow over so large a portion of Christendom, owes its
erection and its continuance to the intense devotedness with which it has
inspired its votaries—it is this that upholds a system constantly at war with
the dictates of reason, the doctrines of revelation, and the dearest rights and
liberties of humanity. It is the mysterious and indomitable earnestness of its
priesthood, which has resisted the attacks of logic, rhetoric and piety, of
divines, philosophers and statesmen, of wit, humor and ridicule; and which, in
this age of learning, science, commerce and liberty, enables it not only to
maintain its ground—but to advance and make conquests. The Church of Rome, which
would in the hands of a lukewarm priesthood fall by the weight of its own
absurdity, or be crushed by the hands of its constant assailants, is still
strong in the hearts of its members—because each of them from the Pope down,
through all its civil and ecclesiastical gradations, to its most insignificant
member, is a type of concentrated and intensely glowing zeal. The pages of
ecclesiastical history furnish us with extraordinary instances of the power of
the pulpit, in the sermons of some Popish preachers. I do not now refer to the
court of Louis the Fourteenth, which, with that imperious and licentious monarch
at its head, was subdued into a transient frame and season of devoutness, by the
sermons of Massillon—but to the preaching of far inferior and less known
orators; and to effects less courtly—but not less striking. When Connecte, an
Italian, preached, the ladies committed their gay dresses by hundreds to the
flames. When Narni in Lent, taught the populace from the pulpits of Rome, half
the city went from his sermons, crying along the streets, "Lord have mercy upon
us, Christ have mercy upon us!" When he preached at Salamanca, he induced eight
hundred students to quit all worldly prospects of honor, riches, and pleasure,
and to become penitents in diverse monasteries; and some of them eventually
became martyrs. Such was the power of earnestness; but being devoted in this
case to the cause of error, being directed rather to the imagination than to the
heart, and intended to correct mere ceremonial irregularities, rather than to
lead to repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, we are not
surprised that the storm of passion soon subsided; that Narni himself was so
disgusted with his office, that he renounced preaching and shut himself up in
his cell, to mourn over his irreclaimable contemporaries. This striking fact is
replete with instruction, not only as showing the power of the pulpit—but also
the essential feebleness of that religion which does not aim at the renovation
of the heart, and the transient nature of that effect which is produced by mere
rhetoric, unaccompanied by a sober exhibition of the truth to enlighten the
judgment, to warm the affections, and to awaken the conscience. But it is not
only on this grand scale that we see the power and success of ardent zeal, even
in a bad cause; for there is no system of opinions, and no course of religious
practice, however remote, not only from the truth of revelation but from the
dictates of common sense, and even the decorum of society—but if preached and
propagated by men of intense ardor, will gain for a while disciples to believe
it, and apostles to propagate it.

If men are really in earnest in ’blowing bubbles’, some will be found to look
at, admire, and follow them. I have already said that earnestness is
contagious—a man in this state of mind and action is sure to draw some others
under the influence of his own example. If this is the case with a bad cause,
how much more may we expect it to be so in a good one! Everything then combines
to prove that our lack of success must be traced up rather to our neglect of the
right means to obtain it, than to any backwardness on the part of God to give
his blessing to intelligent, judicious, and earnest exertions.

Surely, surely, there must be, I repeat, a latent power in the evangelical
pulpit, viewed as a moral and well adapted means of impression, which has not,
except by Whitfield and a few others, been studied, discovered, and applied.
Surely if we had more intense piety, stronger faith, more knowledge of the human
heart, more concern to obtain an impressive elocution, more ardent longings
after the conversion of sinners, we could and would by God’s grace, move and
command the masses. There is, there must be, neglected power somewhere.

VII. The state of our denomination demands immediate and devoted attention to
the subject. In speaking of our own denomination, I find in its general
condition much cause for thankfulness and congratulation. In the number of our
churches and the competency of a very large number of their pastors; in our
colleges and schools; in our missionary and other organizations; in our
periodical and other religious literature; in our public spirit and liberality,
I see signs of prosperity, and tokens for good—and if we are true to ourselves
and to our cause, we have nothing to fear. Our opponents cannot do us so much
harm as we may do ourselves. With a system of doctrine which we believe is taken
from the New Testament, and a system of polity which in all its general
principles is derived from the same source, we may not only stand our ground—but
advance, if we will present the former in all its fullness, and administer the
latter with discretion and charity.

Everything, under God’s blessing, depends upon our ministry. This, which is
important to every denomination, is especially so to ours. We go forth, not only
unsupported by the wealth, power, and fashionableness of the Established
Church—but without the aid of that elaborately organized combination which is to
be found in some sections that separate from it. Our ministers, so to speak, do
not contend in regiments formed in rank and file—but single handed, and should
therefore be all picked men, each possessed of courage and of skill. Let us only
take care to send none but such into the field, and we may hope for a still more
abundant measure of prosperity than we at present enjoy.

There is room enough for all denominations in the vast wilderness of our
neglected and unchristianized population, and we have no need to look at each
other’s labors with jealousy and envy. Satan is ruining souls faster than all of
us united can save them! It is a mark of deep malignity of heart, and a proof
that it is the distempered zeal of bigotry, and not pure love to God and souls,
that moves us, when we see with uneasiness, the success of other denominations
of evangelical Christians—and rejoice over their failure. To seize with avidity
any acknowledgments of, and lamentations over, a lack of usefulness, and then
tearing them from their connection and exaggerating their statements, to hold
them up exultingly to the world, and tauntingly to the denomination from which
in frankness and in sorrow they have come, may suit well with the strategy of
political warfare, and serve the cause of a party—but ill accords with the
spirit of divine charity, and cannot promote the interests of our common
Christianity. In many places of worship connected with the Establishment, even
where the gospel is preached—but preached with feebleness, we find small
congregations, and few souls converted to God. Do we rejoice over this? On the
contrary, it is a grief and a lamentation. And is there a heart so envenomed
with the gall of bigotry, as to rejoice in the confession now made, that many of
our congregations are withering away under the effete ministrations of
incompetent men? Such a withering is indeed going on in many places. The fact
cannot be concealed, it is notorious. We have been incautious in the admission,
not of bad men, for few of these ever find their way into our pulpits; not of
heretical men, for we take care not to receive such; but of incompetent men—not
always incompetent in intellect—but in talents for public speaking and the
active duties of the pastorate. From this cause, combined with the increased
energy and activity of the Church of England, our congregations are diminishing
in some places, though multiplying and increasing in others. With the freedom of
action we possess, unrestricted by parochial limits and ecclesiastical laws;
with the world all before us, and Providence our guide; with a good feeling
towards us on the part of the middle and lower classes, we have every ground to
hope for success—if we can obtain an adequate number of energetic and earnest
preachers. But we have not taken sufficient care to find out and educate the
right sort of men, and in some places are certainly losing ground. Considerable
towns might be mentioned where congregations once numerous and flourishing, are
reduced down to mere skeletons, under the dull and deadening influence of
feeble, yet good men. It is more easy to settle an incompetent minister over a
church than to remove him. It is true we have advantages for such removal not
possessed by the Church of England. The pastorate is not in our churches a
freehold; yet it must be confessed that even with us, the difficulty of getting
rid of a pastor, except for immorality or heresy, and only on the ground of
inefficiency, is great. That a minister should wish to stay when he has preached
away nearly all his congregation, breeds a suspicion of the purity of his
motives, and is a reflection upon the integrity of his character. To reduce a
congregation and scatter a church, first by inefficiency, and then by obstinacy
in retaining the post in opposition to the wishes of the flock, and the advice
of friends—is a serious matter to account for to God. Some such men talk of
waiting for the leadings of Providence. One is at a loss to find out what rule
of interpretation for ascertaining the will of God they have adopted—to
everybody else but themselves, deserted pews and a dissatisfied, as well as a
reduced church, are a sufficient indication that Providence is leading to their
removal. In such a case one would suppose there needed no voice from heaven to
say to the minister, "Arise, and go away!" nor any finger to come forth, and
write "Ichabod" in flaming characters on the walls. It is sometimes said that
the people must suffer the consequences of a hasty choice—and so far as they are
concerned, they deserve it; but they suffer not alone, for the denomination
suffers with them in its strength, character, and efficiency. The work of
conversion, not only in our own denomination—but in the Church of England, and
among the Methodists, goes on but slowly, and the spirituality of the great bulk
of professors is too low. This is confessed and lamented by the Evangelical
clergy, and by the Wesleyan ministers, as well as by ourselves. The Spirit’s
influence seems in some way and from some cause obstructed—and in the absence of
this, our denomination is more likely to feel and manifest the visible results
of it than almost any other—and such a consideration should lead us to more
serious thoughtfulness and earnest prayer for a revived and intensely devoted
ministry.


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  CHAPTER 23: 02.09.     MEANS OF OBTAINING AN EARNEST MINISTRY
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MEANS OF OBTAINING AN EARNEST MINISTRY This is a most important part of my
subject—for however desirable the blessing may be—yet if it cannot be obtained,
or if there are no means by which we can obtain it—the discussion and
contemplation of it are useless, and even worse, being calculated only to excite
a fruitless wish, or what is most injurious of all, a disposition to neglect the
means we have. But we are not to entertain so desponding a view. Men there have
been, and blessed be God, men there are, and that in no small number, in every
section of the Christian church, laboring with intelligence, zeal, and success,
both in the metropolis and in the provinces; men of whom their age need not be
ashamed, and over whom any age would have rejoiced. Still there are too many of
an opposite character; far too many, to render the question impertinent and out
of season, "How shall such an earnest ministry be obtained?"

I. It is imperative first of all, to have the truth deeply engraved upon all
hearts, that the church is the conservator of the Christian ministry, and that
it is her business, and almost her first and most important business, to see
that she discharges well her duty in this momentous affair. She has at the
present time, not only to provide for her own edification—but also to secure, by
all possible vigilance and care, the administrative transmission of our holy
religion through following ages, pure, undefiled, and unimpaired in its capacity
to confer essential and eternal benefits upon the children of men. But it is
obvious that for such a function, the church must be regarded as a purely
spiritual body. And it should be deemed a question of no small moment, bearing
as it does upon the controversy about church government, what system of polity
has the most direct tendency and the greatest power to call out, secure, and
perpetuate an evangelical and effective ministry. An ecclesiastical system which
of itself has no effectual provision for this, cannot surely be of Divine
origin, and that which has the most obvious and direct tendency to this, is most
in accordance with the Word of God. A church without such a conservative
principle cannot be the church of the New Testament, much less that which
includes various and ever active influences against it. Nothing but a spiritual
church can provide a spiritual ministry, and any spiritual ministry which a
worldly church may have, cannot be so much the result of the system, as of
something extraneous to it. Even in spiritual churches, if discipline be
relaxed, and worldly-minded people be admitted, the conservative principle, the
vital piety of the members, is impaired; and if at the same time there be
neglect of discipline, it will be altogether lost, and heretical men come in to
fill the places of those who were the preachers of the truth as it is in Jesus.

It is well, therefore, for all our churches to bear in constant recollection,
this their high and sacred function as conservators of an evangelical ministry;
and to maintain that vital godliness, and that wholesome discipline, in which
alone this power of conservation resides. Let the churches consider their high,
their glorious commission—let them remember they must be such, that the
Christian truth, both as to doctrine and practice, and the calling out and
supporting fit men to uphold and preach it, may be safely trusted to their
vigilance and care. But let them forget this and corrupt their fellowship by the
admission of worldly-minded professors, and "the walls are gone, the fence is
broken up, and wolves may enter in, not sparing the flock." "Preserve this
spiritual condition of the church, and it is what it was intended it should be,
an undying torch, which, while it is the light of the present age, shall safely
light successive ages along the only way which leads to happiness and heaven."

II. Let the subject be thoroughly considered, and universally admitted, that
this is the ministry we need, and must have. In an age like the present, when so
much is said about knowledge, and such high value is attached to it, there is a
danger of our being seduced from every other qualification, and taken up with
academics. The establishment of the London University, and the incorporation of
our Colleges with it, have given our students access to academic degrees and
honors—and there is some danger in the new condition of our literary
Institutions, lest our young men should have their minds in some measure drawn
away from much more important matters, by the hope of having their names graced
by the marks of a Bachelor’s or a Master’s degree. It is a foolish clamor that
has been raised against all attention to such matters, and it is a vain and
barbarous precaution that would fortify the pastoral devotedness of our
students, by restraining them altogether from such distinctions. The studies
necessary to enable them to attain this object of their ambition, are a part of
their professional education; while the vanity likely to be engendered by
success will soon be annihilated by the commonness of the acquisition. When
these degrees are so common that almost all ministers possess them, they will no
longer be a snare to their possessors. Besides, like every other object of human
desire, when once they are possessed, much of the charm that dazzled the eye of
hope has vanished. Henry Martyn, when he came from the senate-house at
Cambridge, where he had been declared Senior Professor of his year, and had thus
won the richest honor the University had to confer, was struck with the vanity
of human wishes, and expressed his surprise at the comparative worthlessness of
the bauble he had gained, and the shadow he had grasped. It is not by closing
the door against such distinctions that we can hope to raise the tone of
devotedness in our ministry—but by fostering in the minds of our young men at
College, and in the minds of our congregations, and our ministers in general,
the conviction that earnestness is just that one thing, to which all other
things must be, and can be, made subservient, and without which all other things
which education can impart, are as nothing. Our congregations need perhaps a
little instruction on this subject. I am afraid their taste is not quite so
pure, correct, and elevated on this matter, as it should be. There is, it is
true, a demand for a vivacious and animated manner of preaching, and it is well
there should be such; and provided it be intellectual, there is a decided
preference for its being evangelical also; but there is reason to fear that in
some cases a small modicum of evangelical truth would do, provided there was
abundance of talent. Earnestness is demanded—but with some, it is rather the
earnestness of the head, than of the heart; the labored and eloquent effusion of
the scholar, philosopher, or poet—rather than the gush of hallowed feeling of
him who watches for souls, as one that must give account. Dulness, however
learned or profound, will not do—but the heartless declamations of the pulpit
orator will do for some, though it has little tendency to do anything more than
please the intellect or captivate the imagination.

There is in this day an ’idolatry of talent’ running through society; and this
man-worship has crept into the church, and corrupted its members. It is painful
to perceive how far it is carried in many circles, and to see what homage is
paid, and what incense is burnt, to their favorite ministers. It is not
godliness or holiness that is thus elevated—but genius and knowledge; it is not
moral beauty—but intellectual strength, that is lauded to the skies. The
loftiest models of goodness receive but scanty offerings at their shrine,
compared with the gods of the understanding. It is very evident that in many
cases the gospel is loved, if loved at all, for the sake of the talent with
which it is preached, and not the talent for the sake of the gospel. Even the
village novice begins to talk about intellectual preachers. The fact however is
admonitory, and shows that imbeciles, however holy, will not do, even in rural
districts, in these days.

There can be no surer mark of man’s moral apostacy, his lapse from the innocence
which he had when he came from the hands of his Creator perfect and in the moral
image of God, than this disposition to exalt genius above piety. What an
inversion is it of the right order of things, since it must be allowed that
man’s intellect is not the highest part of his nature. It is by his capacity for
virtue and godliness that he is removed to the greatest distance from the brute
creation, is placed in most direct opposition to fallen spirits, makes his
nearest approach to the angels of God, and in any degree resembles the Holy and
Eternal One. The God of the Bible is not merely a Divine Intellect, though his
understanding is infinite; nor is Omniscience his only attribute, though it is
one of his glorious perfections; but God is Love; and when the seraphim select
for the subject of their anthem that view of his nature which calls forth their
loftiest praise, they contemplate him as the Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God
Almighty. Infinite goodness, and not merely infinite greatness, is the Deity we
are called by the inspired writers to worship. And the most sublime descriptions
of God, not based upon his goodness, are but the inventions of men, and no true
copies of God’s representations of his own nature. The prevailing disposition,
therefore, to do such homage to ’talent’, rather than to ’moral excellence’, is
only another species of idolatry, more refined and subtle than the worship of
stocks and stones—but scarcely less guilty. That some respect must be paid to
talent, even in the ministry of the word, is admitted. A disposition to prize
talent and learning, is inseparable from human nature, and is a part of the
design of God in forming men with varying powers of the understanding—a fine
intellect is to be admired as well as an elegant form or a beautiful flower; and
so much the more, as that which is mental is superior to that which is
corporeal. But when the Christian public is so enamored of talent, as to admire
it more than the message which it is employed to set forth; when no preacher can
be heard with pleasure or even endurance, however sound his doctrine, clear his
statements, impressive his manner, or earnest his address, unless his discourse
is radiant with the light of genius, and gay with the flowers of rhetoric; when
truth itself is unpalatable unless it is sweetened with the honey of human
eloquence; when the hearer of a sermon turns from it with disgust, because it
fails to regale his fancy by the brilliancy of its images, or to lull his ear by
the smoothness and harmony of its statements—when this is the state of the
public taste, and it is to be feared that to a great extent it is the state of
it now, surely it is time to call the attention of our congregations to
something higher and better. No one who is attentive to the distinguishing
features of the age, can doubt that much is now going on which has an obvious,
though of course an undesigned, tendency to corrupt in some degree the
simplicity of the public taste, with reference to preachers and their sermons.
The pulpit has some reason to be jealous of the platform, and the sermon of the
speech. If the modern practice of endless speechifying had only done something
to break down the stiffness and formality of sermonic speaking, and to introduce
a more easy, fluent, and energetic method of address on the part of the
preacher—and a corresponding taste for a more vivacious method of instruction on
the part of the people, it would have conferred a substantial benefit! But with
it has come perhaps the opposite evil of making the preacher too oratorical, and
the people too fastidious; and of destroying somewhat of the solemnity and
spirituality of both. No doubt some degree of earnestness will still be
observed; but it may be the earnestness which is anxious to please—rather than
that which is desirous to convert; which aims to gratify the imagination—rather
than to save the soul.

It is in vain then to hope for such a ministry as that which it is the object of
this work to describe and to recommend, until our congregations are brought to
see its vast importance, and to supplicate that it may be given them. In this
case, as in every other, the demand will bring the supply, as well as the supply
create the demand. When the churches shall be brought up to that state of piety,
that deep solicitude about salvation, that intenseness of pursuit of eternal
life, which shall make them anxious to have ministers who will aid them in the
momentous business; and when they shall say to the tutors and committees of our
colleges, "You must not only send us learned men—but earnest men," then will the
minds of our excellent professors be still more fixed on the most essential
qualifications of the Christian ministry, and still more anxiously endeavor to
meet this demand. And when our destitute congregations shall let it be
distinctly known that it is not merely a Master of Arts, nor a merely eloquent
speaker, nor even a good divine that they want—but one who shall watch for their
souls, and feed the flock of God, then the attention of our young ministers will
be still more turned to the end of their ministry, and the qualifications
necessary for the just discharge of its functions. Let the church therefore only
be rightly instructed on this subject, and fix properly its standard; let it be
brought up to the conviction, that only men intent upon saving souls, will be
useful—and such men will come at its bidding.

III. There should be much prayer presented to God for a supply of earnest
ministers. It must never be forgotten that ministers are called, qualified, and
blessed, by the Lord, the Spirit. Hence the promise of God to the Jews, "I will
give you pastors according to my own heart; who shall feed you with knowledge
and with understanding." And hence also the language of the apostle, "He gave
some pastors and teachers; for the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the
ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." It was a special injunction
of Christ to his disciples—but intended to apply to his people in every age—to
pray to the Lord of the harvest to send forth laborers into the field. From
these passages, as well as from the general principle that every good gift is
from the Lord, we learn that a faithful ministry is one of God’s gifts, and a
precious one it is; and were the church in a high spiritual state, it would
constitute one of the chief subjects of its prayers. Perhaps we are not brought
to feel with sufficient depth of conviction our dependence upon God for this
great blessing, for there is little doubt that the church’s prayers and the
church’s possessions would bear in this particular, some tolerable proportion to
each other. We cannot conceive of any case in which the promise, "Ask, and you
shall receive," would be so abundantly fulfilled, as in reference to this.

It has not been enough considered—what kind of men are needed at all times, and
especially in these, for the ministry of reconciliation. That in fact we need
men formed exactly and in all respects, except inspiration and the power to work
miracles—upon the apostolic model. Much the same work is now to be done as was
done by them, and we must have men as full of the power of God, and the grace of
the Holy Spirit, to do it. Let it be seen what ministers have to contend with in
this day; not indeed the spirit of persecution, not blood-shedding laws, not the
amphitheater, the axe, or the stake; but obstacles in some respects more
formidable; for the trials I have just mentioned, if they lessened the number of
professors, raised those who stood firm, into the devotion of seraphs, the
courage of heroes, and the loyalty of martyrs. But our obstacles are the
debilitating influences of ease and prosperity; the insidious snares of wealth,
extravagance and fashion; the engrossing power of business and secular ambition!
Consider this, and then let it be judged what kind of preachers and pastors we
need for such an age!

If we had nothing more to do, and were contented to do no more, than to keep
religion up to the low level which it now maintains, ministers of a common stamp
might suffice. But to keep in check all the enemies of vital godliness which
threaten the devastation of the church; to resist, by the potency of personal
example and the energy of the pulpit, the worldly spirit which threatens to eat
out the very core of vital piety; to keep up the evangelizing zeal which is
awakened, and to blend with it a sanctity and a spirituality which shall make it
as effective as it is busy; to do battle with all the forms of error by which
our common faith is likely to be assailed; and to do this not only by the force
of intellect—but by being strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. To
achieve all this, we need men of the same spirit as those who under the direct
commission of Christ, preached the word of salvation with the Holy Spirit sent
down from heaven. Have we many such men in the field? If not, why not? Must not
the church of God blame herself, for not having sought such men by all the
wrestling power of believing prayer? Had she felt the need of such men, and had
she lifted up, not her hands and her voice merely—but all the energies of her
renewed nature, in beseeching supplications to Him who is ascended to bestow
this very gift—she would have obtained all she asked or needed. Let the church
only set her heart upon such a blessing as this, let her faith be equal to the
expectation of it, and her prayer be as her faith—and she will have it.

Why should she not expect it? What is there in the nature of the blessing that
forbids her to look for it? Does it contradict a single promise, or contravene a
single arrangement, of her Divine Head? Does it compromise his honor, or require
his unordinary interposition? Does it involve any stepping out of his ordinary
course of action? Why then should it be thought incredible that she should
obtain a more, a far more devoted and successful ministry, than she now
possesses? Does the gospel of God’s grace, either at home or abroad, prevail as
it could be wished and might be expected? Does the work of conversion go forward
extensively, and Christ’s Kingdom make fresh encroachments on the empire of
darkness as might be looked for? Who will venture to answer in the affirmative?
Does love to Christ and souls beat in any man’s heart, with so feeble a
pulsation that he must be satisfied with what is now being done—and be contented
that things should always go on as they do? Is there nothing to be done, no way
to accelerate the work of redeeming mercy, no method to pour the principles of
spiritual fertility more rapidly and more diffusively through the moral
wilderness of our barren world? Yes! One way is yet open, and that is for Zion
to awake and bestir herself, and lay hold of God’s strength, saying, "Send us
more laborers into the field." We have forgotten to pray for ministers of a
right stamp. The subject has never occupied, in our private, family, and social
devotions, the place which its importance demands. It has been occasionally and
coldly alluded to—but has not been lifted up to heaven with importunity by men
who felt that they could not do without it.

"Truly if ever there was a period when the whole Christian world should be down
upon their faces before the throne of mercy, imploring with all the importunity,
and boldness, and perseverance of faith—for a race of ministers, each full of
the Holy Spirit, as was Barnabas or Paul—that period is passing over us. Not
from one place or another—but from all quarters of the earth, testimony
multiplies daily that amid the greatest possible facilities for converting the
world, a greatly increased and more devoted ministry is indispensable. This
testimony comes to us, not indeed as the Macedonian cry came to the apostle in a
supernatural vision; but in a manner not less affecting or decisive as to its
signification. It is a real sound which flies round the land and rings in our
ears all the day long. ’Send us godly preachers!’ is the universal, ceaseless
demand, at home and abroad. It comes from more than a thousand of our destitute
churches; it comes from the cities, from the wilderness, from the islands, from
the uttermost parts of the sea, from tracts until lately unknown to civilized
man. This cry which sounds so loudly and so complainingly in our ears, should by
general consent be turned into prayer and sent up to heaven.

"And shall we longer refrain to do this? Shall we stand and hear that unusual
cry and feel no inclination to direct it to the ear of Him from whom help alone
can come? Is it not a mysterious species of infatuation to refrain to lift up
our cry to the Lord of the harvest? Why do we not, if this be the case, renounce
the very religion of Jesus, and abandon ourselves, as well as the heathen, and
the whole race of man—to despair? Why should not a reform forthwith commence,
and the place of prayer have more attractions than the eloquence of any mortal,
or any angel’s tongue? Why then will not every true Christian make a covenant
with himself to change his life in this particular, and from henceforth make it
one of his chief subjects of wrestling supplication, that God would give us a
more faithful, earnest, and laborious ministry?

"Why will we not call to mind how Abraham, and Moses, and Elijah, and Daniel,
and Paul, and above all how the blessed Jesus labored in prayer, and resolve in
God’s strength to pray in the same manner? Oh, what an amount of beneficent
power would such prayers exert upon the eternal destinies of our world! What
wonders of grace would be witnessed in our churches, what accessions would be
made to the sacred ministry, what an impulse would be given to the cause of
missions, what brightness would be shed on all the prospects of the church!"
("Religion of the Bible" by Dr. Skinner)

I echo these beautiful sentiments, and earnestly implore for them the attention
they demand. They touch us at the right point, and they speak to us at the
proper season. We have multiplied and extended, of late, our collegiate
institutions, and greatly improved our systems of pastoral education. We can
speak of colleges whose architecture* would not disgrace Oxford or Cambridge,
and of professors whose attainments in Biblical literature would not be
surpassed by many teachers in national seats of learning. But as if to teach us
our dependence upon God, few of them are at the present moment filled with
students; and as to those who are coming forth from them, how great is our
concern lest they should not prove such eminent and earnest men as we could wish
to see them! The same remark will apply to the evangelical party of the Church
of England, and all other denominations. I would be the last man to speak
lightly of education—but I would be the first to caution the church of Christ
against the sin and the folly of making it our supreme dependence. Teachers can
impart a knowledge of Latin, Greek, and philosophy—but God alone can bestow the
physical and spiritual gifts which constitute the chief qualifications for the
work of the ministry. It is a fact which must have struck every attentive
observer, that of those who are employed in the ministry of the word, whether in
the Established Church or out of it, comparatively few are very eminent. The
brightest flowers of humanity are not laid upon the altar of the Lord in great
numbers. The majority of ministers are of a common order of intellect, and, as
in the skies of heaven, only here and there a star attracts attention by its
magnitude and brightness. Let it not be said that God chooses the weak things of
the world to confound the mighty. This appertained to apostles, who, as they
were clothed with the power of God by their gifts and miracles, could dispense
with all other potency. But it is not the case with us, who without appropriate
qualifications of native talent and education, can never expect the blessing of
God.

* The age is past when the taunt could with truth be thrown at Dissenters, that
theirs is the religion of barns; and if it were not, this would be no reproach
to those whose Lord was born in a stable, and cradled in a manger. The danger
lies in sacrificing too much to beauty of architecture. Splendid men, as pastors
and preachers, will do more for us than splendid buildings; not that they are
incompatible—but they are by no means inseparable. Many a dolt has obtained his
degree from our most magnificent College buildings.

IV. A revived state of the Church would produce a ministry such as that which
has been described in the foregoing pages. In the natural order of things it
would seem that the church cannot be revived without a previous revival of the
ministry; and yet, as the ministry are the children of the church, they can
hardly be expected to rise above the level of the community out of which they
spring. There is a kind of average piety of almost every age and every church,
and our young men rarely come with more than this to our colleges—and therefore,
although we do not dispute the fact that little expectation can be indulged of
an increased piety in the churches, without an augmentation of pastoral
devotedness, yet at the same time, the latter can almost as little be looked
for, without the former. Revivals have sometimes begun with the people, who have
drawn the ministry up to their own level. A lively church could not long endure
a dull and lukewarm pastor, if he partook not of the prevailing excitement, he
would feel himself soon obliged to leave his situation. If, therefore, the
ministry cannot revive themselves and each other, it were an unspeakable mercy
if they should receive an impulse from the people. As we have already seen, many
things in the present age are of a most auspicious character, and give it a
lofty pre-eminence above some that have preceded it. Who can witness its busy
activity, its generous liberality, its exhaustless ingenuity for the conversion
of the world, without admiration and gratitude—but these are not all the
elements of true piety, and it may be apprehended that, in innumerable cases,
they are only the substitutes for the essential work of regeneration and
sanctification. It may be feared that Satan is taking advantage of them to blind
the judgment, and to delude the souls, of many. Men of keen observation, who can
penetrate the surface, and see what lies below it, are of opinion that
underneath this external covering of liberality and zeal, there lies a lack of
vital godliness; that much of what we see in our multiplied public institutions
is but as flowers blooming in a shallow and sandy soil. They who are best
acquainted with the state of our churches, express a doubt whether there is not
a deplorable lack of that separation from the world in its spirit and customs,
which the Christian profession implies. While this is the case, the ministers
who come out from such a state of things are likely to rise no higher than their
source. Hence it becomes our churches to consider the urgent necessity of their
rising to a higher tone of piety, and joining heartily in any efforts that are
made to bring about so desirable a state of things. Even those who have
themselves drunk deepest into the spirit of the world, will sometimes lament the
lack of intenseness and spirituality on the part of their ministers—but do they
not remember that their own worldly-mindedness is exerting an influence over
their pastor, and producing that very state of mind in him which is the subject
of their remark and censure? He was perhaps a more holy and heavenly man, when
he came to them from college, young and flexible, and was at first surprised and
grieved to witness the prevalence of lukewarmness among them. But after
striving, in vain, to produce a better state of things among the members of his
church, he was gradually drawn down to that low level from which he found it
impracticable to raise them. Thus while I admit there is little hope of a
revived church which does not rest on the previous revival of the ministry, I am
tempted almost to argue in a circle, and to say there is little hope of the
revival of the ministry which does not rest on the previous revival of the
church.

Let us then, both ministers and churches, set about in good earnest the revival
of godliness. We act and re-act upon each other. We help or hinder one another.
We both need more godliness; let the ministry seek it for the sake of the
people, and the people for the sake of the ministry. If the ministers will not
lead the people, let the people lead the ministers. If the blessing cannot
descend from the pulpit to the pew, let it ascend from the pew to the pulpit.
Let the church of the living God arise, put on her robe of righteousness, her
garment of salvation, shake off the dust from her apparel, and shine forth in
the beauties of holiness. We need a better church to make a better world; and a
better church would most assuredly make a better world; and we also need a
better ministry to make a better church. But if we cannot have them in the one
order, may we have them in the other, and find that a better church is making a
better ministry. If the rain of heaven does not collect upon the hills to pour
down its streams upon the valleys, may the vapor of the valleys rise to revive
and refresh the tops of the hills.

V. We should, as pastors of the churches, look round our respective flocks, and
see what devoted youths of ardent piety and competent abilities likely to be
useful as ministers of Christ we have within our circles—and call them out to
the work, without waiting for the first impulses of devotion to it to come from
themselves. A radical mistake has been committed through our whole denomination,
in supposing it is necessary in all cases for the desire after the sacred office
to rise up first of all, and spontaneously, in the bosom of the aspirant. In
consequence of this, many have thrust themselves forward who were altogether
unfit for the work; while many eminently qualified for it, have been kept back
by modesty. Does it not seem to be the work of the pastors and the churches, to
call out from among themselves the most gifted and godly of their members for
this object? Is not this the working out of the principle we have already
considered, that the church is the conservator of an effective ministry? Are not
they the best judges of talent and other prerequisites? Should this matter be
left to the inflation of self-conceit, the prompting of vanity, or the impulse,
it may be of a sincere—but unenlightened zeal? Nothing can be more erroneous
than that this call of the church would be an officious intermeddling with the
work of the Spirit in calling the ministry; for it may surely be conceived to be
quite as rational a notion to suppose that the Spirit calls a person through the
medium of the church and its pastor, as to imagine that the commission from
above comes direct to the heart of the individual, especially as the church and
the pastor, or at any rate the latter, is usually applied to, as a judge of the
candidate’s fitness for the work; and thus after all, the power and right of
pronouncing a judgment upon the alleged call of the Divine Agent, are vested
with the pastor and the church. To affirm that an individual cannot be supposed
to have a very great fitness for the office, unless his love of souls has been
strong enough to prompt him to desire the work of the ministry, and that he is
not likely to be very earnest in it, if he be sent, instead of his going of his
own accord, is assuming too much; for in the plan here recommended, it is
supposed that the individual who attracts the attention of the pastor is one
who, in addition to true piety and competent abilities, has manifested an active
zeal in the way of doing good. It is only on such a one that his eye would
light, or to whom he would venture to make the suggestion. In all the official
appointments recorded in the New Testament, from an apostle down to a deacon,
the people were requested to look out for suitable men, and not to wait until
they presented themselves. Let us then give our serious attention to this
subject, and look out for the most godly, the most intelligent, and the most
ardent of our young men, not forgetting at the same time to ascertain their
physical qualifications of voice and constitution.

It is not studious youths only that will do for this work, mere book-worms who
will devour knowledge and make no repayment for it. But such as will unite a
thirst for knowledge with an intense desire to employ every acquisition for
saving souls. We must be inquisitive after such; and if they are youths in the
more respectable classes of society, young men who have known something of good
society, and acquired the manners and habits of gentlemen; who have had
something to do with business, and have acquired such a proper degree of
self-confidence, as will give them weight and influence of character, all the
better. Low men, with coarse vulgar manners, may by the power of great talents
rise above their origin, and be of value, as diamonds uncut and unpolished; yet
how much would the value of those spiritual diamonds be increased by the removal
of all that is coarse in them, and the polishing of all that is rough and dim.
When vulgarity is associated with slender talents, it is as flint set in lead.
There is nothing in gentlemanly manners that deteriorates piety; and much, very
much, that adds not only to the gracefulness—but to the usefulness, of the
pastoral character. The graces, when baptized at the font of evangelical piety,
arrayed in the robe of righteousness, and wearing the ornament of a meek and
quiet spirit, are useful handmaids to the Christian pastor, and procure favor
for him in the solemn duties of his office. If we may judge from the specimens
left on record in the Acts of the Apostles, Paul united the manners of a
courtier with the fidelity of a prophet, and threw over the stern courage of a
martyr, the mantle of a gentle courteousness. What could be more polished, yet
what more faithful, than his address to Festus and Agrippa? And we can imagine
that even his denunciation against the High Priest, who had commanded him to be
smitten on the mouth, was all the more intense because of the dignified severity
with which it was uttered. Earnestness, then, is not incompatible with
refinement—but is rendered more effective by it, and hence the importance of our
sending our better educated youths to the sacred office.

Occasionally we may find in our churches some people possessed of extraordinary
talents for speaking and for active duty, who are too far advanced in manhood to
go through a college curriculum—but who, notwithstanding, would make admirable
preachers, and attain to considerable usefulness, as well as respectability. A
man of natural genius, of strong intelligence, of eminent piety, and of pulpit
power, is not to be rejected because he has not passed through the schools.
Those who remember William Thorp, and especially that great theologian, Andrew
Fuller, will not deny that He who called his apostles, not from the philosophers
of Greece, or from the orators of Rome, or from the Rabbis of Jerusalem—but from
the fishermen of Galilee, may sometimes select a servant, even in our days, from
those classes which have been debarred the privileges of a classical or a
philosophical education. Among the prophets of antiquity was Amos, the herdsman
of Tekoa. These, however, are the exceptions, not the rule. Even the bishops of
our ecclesiastical establishment are lowering their standard of qualifications,
as necessary in all cases, for the pastoral functions, and are accommodating
their system to the needs of the people, by ordaining men to the sacred office,
whom their predecessors an age ago, would have unquestionably refused. Several
of them have lately determined to ordain as deacons, men who have had no
classical education, provided they have good preaching abilities. Latin and
Greek are in such cases to be dispensed with.

We must not pretend to more fastidiousness than they, nor be horror-struck at
the idea of introducing to the pastorate, men, who, though they are neither
scholars nor philosophers, are likely to be powerful and useful preachers of the
gospel. A collegiate education must be our general rule, which it may be hoped
we shall never abandon. But it is a rule from which we must make exceptions in
the case of those strong-minded, warm-hearted, earnest men, whose tough
broad-sword will do more execution than many a weapon whose blade has received
the highest polish that are can give it, and whose hilt sparkles with diamonds.

VI. This is a subject which demands the close and serious attention of ministers
themselves. The whole present generation of our preachers from the oldest to the
youngest must give their attention to the matter. I have known men of a past
age, whose names are dear, and whose memory is fragrant, who to the last
retained the ardor of their zeal, and whose labors, like the flame of the
volcano rising from beneath the snow-covered surface of the mountain top, were
carried on in association with their hoary hairs—and some such, though they are
very few, still linger among us. Even they, and we who come next to them, and
are verging on old age, must all do something more and something better than we
have done for Christ and souls. Our sun is declining, and our shadows lengthen
on the plain—but our day’s work is not done; and instead of relaxing our
diligence, we must work the harder, because the time of working is nearly over.
As long as we have strength to grasp the sickle, or light to bind a sheaf, let
us work on. Harvest-home will soon be here, and it is time enough for enjoyment
when that arrives, and we shall meet our Master and our fellow-servants. To us
the admonition comes with solemn emphasis, "Whatever your hand finds to do, do
it with your might, for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, in the
grave where you go." For the sake of our younger brothers, let us be diligent.
They look upon us as patterns; and let us therefore set them an example which
shall come to them with the correctness of a good model, and the power of an
ardent inspiration. Let there be no running from our posts as if we were weary
of our service, and were panting for retirement. Let it be seen that the
earnestness of our minds imparts vigor to our bodies, keeps off the infirmities
of our declining years, and enables us to renew our youth like the eagle’s. It
is a spectacle which the admirer of military glory loves to witness, to behold
the veteran soldier, on whose countenance the suns of innumerable campaigns and
the swords of his foes have left their visible marks, outstripping in courage,
in feats of arms, and in swiftness of foot, all the younger warriors who fight
at his side, and to see him rallying their fainting hearts by the strength of
his own. Veterans in the hosts of Emanuel, see then your duty! On you it
devolves to train the young recruits, and form their character; let them feel
that they are by the side of heroes, and catch the inspiration of your heroism.
Cast over them your shadow while you live, and they will then be anxious to find
your mantle when your spirit has dropped it in her flight to the skies. Let them
see you intent upon the conversion of sinners, given up to your work of saving
souls—and let them hear in your conversation how much your heart is set upon
this work. Show them by the manner in which you are finishing your course, how
they ought to begin and carry forward theirs. Correct their mistakes, elevate
their aims and inflame their zeal. Do all you can by your private communion with
them to form their character aright for the service of the Lord. Talk to them
modestly of your own success in the ministry, and how you succeeded in this high
and glorious achievement. What kind of men ought you to be, by whom the ardor of
others will be kindled—or extinguished? May God’s grace be sufficient for you!
But of what momentous consequence is it that our younger ministers and students
should give to this subject its due attention! You have advantages which some
who have gone before you never enjoyed, and which at times make them almost envy
your privileges. But if this be all you seek; if it be the best and the highest
object you aspire to, you have mistaken your way in going to the pulpit, and had
better, whatever of education you may acquire, have drudged out life in one of
the darkest of its recesses, or the humblest of its occupations, than to have
entered the Christian ministry! Oh, what scenes attract your attention, and
ought to engage your energies! There around you are immortal souls perishing in
their sins, each one of more value than the whole material universe, each
capable of being saved by your ministrations, and sure to acquire, by neglecting
them, a deeper guilt and a heavier condemnation—there, in sight of your faith,
is the Son of God, bleeding upon the cross for their redemption; there beneath
you is the pit of hell, opening wide its mouth to receive them if they die in
unbelief; there above you is heaven, throwing back its everlasting portals to
receive them, if they are saved; there before you is the bar of judgment, at
which you must soon meet them, to account for your ministry in reference to
them; and there, beyond all, is eternity with its ever rolling ages, which are
to be spent by them and you—in rapture—or in woe! Is this true? Is it fiction,
or is it fact? If these things are not so, you are found false witnesses for
Christ, for they are the common topics and the first principles of your
discourses. But if they are all realities, then with what state of mind and
heart should they be handled?

Begin your ministry, beloved young brethren, with a clear understanding of its
nature, and a deep impression of its importance. Do you covet usefulness?
Earnestness is essential to it. You cannot do good in any extensive degree
without it. Listen to those who have gone before you; their testimony is founded
both upon experience and observation. All, all will unite in this exhortation,
"Be in earnest!" as well the very men who have had the least, as those who have
exhibited the most, of this quality of character, and mode of action. Without
this you cannot even be popular, to say nothing of usefulness. The public will
hear an earnest minister, and will not hear any other. You may call this, if you
will, bad taste, and wonder they will not listen to your highly intellectual and
philosophical discourses, and be ready to withdraw in resentment the elaborate
preparations they so little value, and retire from the pulpit. Whether they or
you are wrong, this is the fact. He is an unwise tradesman, who, because he
thinks the public taste is bad, and ought to be corrected, will exhibit in his
window, and place upon his shelves, no other goods than those the public will
not buy. In this case the taste of the public may be wrong, and that of the
tradesman right—but in the case of preaching, if the people demand an earnest
exhibition of gospel truth, and their minister, instead of this, will give them
nothing but dull, dry, abstract sermons, it is they who are right, and he is
wrong. They, better than he does, know not only what they want—but what he was
appointed by God to furnish them! Do not then mistake and determine to try to be
useful in some other way than that which the God of nature and of grace has
prescribed. Do not resolve to try the experiment of opening a new road to
usefulness for yourself; another way than that which apostles, martyrs, and
reformers have trod, and which the ministers and missionaries of every age and
every country have found to be the power of God unto salvation, even the
doctrine of the cross; another way which you may deem more befitting your powers
and your scholarship, and the enlightenment of the age. You will inevitably go
wrong if you do so, and close your career, lamenting your folly, and confessing
that your pastoral life has been a lost adventure—a melancholy confession, and
one that is not infrequently made. God gives man only one life, and affords him
no opportunity to live through another term of existence, in which to profit by
his own experience. But he gives him abundant opportunity to avail himself of
the knowledge gained by his own trials as they go on, and by observation of
others.

You have known enough and seen enough already of what will, and what will not,
answer the end of your office, and save souls. You have only to look back, and
to look around, to find evidence to guide you. You cannot mistake your means
easily, if you do not mistake your object. Settle with yourselves what the
latter is, that it is to save sinners by leading them to repent of sin, to
believe on Christ, and to lead a holy life; and then you can scarcely fail to
perceive that this never has been accomplished, and ordinarily never can be—but
by beseeching them, and praying them, in Christ’s stead, to be reconciled to
God.

We who are growing grey in the service of Christ, feel somewhat anxious about
those who are to succeed us. We see with gratitude and wonder what God has
wrought by us; and we know how, as instruments, we have done it. We see how
souls have been converted, churches have risen up, and believers have lived and
died in the faith, and know full well that it was by the testimony of the
gospel, plainly but energetically stated. In looking back, we often feel regret
that the activity required by the age took from us the opportunity to make
greater attainments in elegant literature and general knowledge. But no regret
that we have made the great theme of Christ crucified the subject of our
ministry, and the salvation of souls the object of our lives. We feel, amid the
gathering shadows of evening, a calm and sweet satisfaction that in that we made
a right choice, mingled with a profound humiliation that we have not followed it
with more intensity of devotion. We see many things in the review of the past
that we would alter—but we would make no alteration in that; we see much that we
could improve—but only in the manner by which we could more successfully
accomplish that object. And if it were permitted us to live our existence over
again, or to speak more correctly, to spend another lifetime, and set out
afresh, it would be our high resolve to get more of what the men of science and
of literature admire—only to enable us to preach with greater power the doctrine
of the cross, and to be better qualified to seek with more ardor, and with
better hopes of success, the end of our ministry. The love of applause, and we
have all too much of it, is we hope dying in our hearts, or at any rate it
appears to be more and more worthless—and the approval of our great Master more
and more intensely to be desired. Whether we look back upon the past, consider
our feelings for the present, or look at the prospects and anticipate the
disclosures of the future, we know of no arguments convincing enough, no
language sufficiently expressive, to enforce upon our younger brethren in the
ministry, in reference to the purpose of their lives, the important admonition,
"Be earnest!"

VII. Considerable care and caution are requisite, and much more than have been
exercised hitherto, in the introduction and reception of young men into our
colleges. Incompetent ministers are the burden of the church. Worldly ministers
have been the dishonor of the church, and the hindrance of the progress of the
gospel in the world. In hearing incompetent ministers, one is ready to wonder
how it ever entered into their hearts to conceive they had been called of God to
a work for which they seem to possess scarcely a single qualification beyond
their piety; and the wonder is doubled to account for any minister recommending
them, or any committee receiving them—without intellect, without heart, and
equally without voice, they seem sent into the ministry only to keep out others
more competent for the work. How many have been permitted to escape from the
pursuits of business, in which they might have done well, to endure the greatest
privations, and to submit to the most humiliating mortifications, in an office,
for the functions of which they were deplorably unfit! How many of them have
passed through life in the misery of being amid a discontented people, or in
wandering from place to place, without remaining with any church long! Such
cases have been found in every age, and in every denomination—but they were
never so numerous as they now are. A spirit of preciseness has crept over
churches, and unsettledness over pastors.

How great then is the responsibility of recommending a young man to enter the
ministry! It is an act drawing after it consequences of a most momentous nature,
and should never be done without the utmost care and caution. It would be well
if ministers would call in others to bear the burden with them, and to share the
responsibility. It may in some cases expose a pastor to some risk of giving
offence, if in the exercise of his fidelity he should discourage the aspirations
of an unsuitable candidate. But it is an evil from which he would be sheltered,
at least in part, by referring the case to the consideration of two or three of
his brethren in his vicinity.

It is not, however, pastors only who should be cautioned against recommending
unsuitable candidates—but the committees of our colleges should be no less
careful about receiving them. It is extremely difficult by a first examination,
or even by a probationary term, to judge of eligibility and fitness, as great
excellence in some cases lies hidden under a very uncouth and unpromising
exterior, and in others is very slow to develop itself; while on the contrary, a
showy exterior over a shallow substratum is so deceptive, that not only
months—but even years, must roll on, before the necessary qualifications can be
determined upon. But a false delicacy has sometimes led our committees to retain
young men in the colleges, of whose unfitness there remained no question, rather
than put them and their friends to the pain of recommending them to discontinue
their studies, and return to a secular trade. And it should be recollected that
to carry on the education of a young man without any rational probability that
he will ever attain to usefulness of any kind, either as an author, tutor, or
preacher—is on the part of the committee a betrayal of their trust, and a
misapplication of the funds entrusted to their care.

Let there be, then, a far greater degree of care and discrimination exercised in
the initiative by our pastors than there has been—ten earnest men are better,
and will do more for us, than a hundred incompetent ones! It would be better
that churches should remain longer without pastors, than gain unsuitable ones;
just as it is a far more endurable evil for a man who wishes for marital
felicity, to endure the privations of celibacy any length of time, than to hurry
from them into the miseries of an unhappy marriage. We must be more careful in
the selection, the reception, and the retention of our students—than we have
been. Since it is so difficult to find an agreeable withdrawal for those who are
once in the ministry, it is highly incumbent upon us to watch with greater
vigilance the door of entrance to it.

VIII. There is no class of men to whom we can look so naturally, or with so much
entreaty for their aid, in furnishing us with devoted ministers, as our
Professors. If the college be the mold in which the preacher and pastor are
cast, the tutor is the man who shapes the mold, and pours the metal into it. How
much then depends upon these beloved and honored brethren! What a trust is
reposed with them, how solemn—how responsible! If it be a momentous thing for a
pastor to have the care of a single church, how much more so, for a tutor to
have the care of twenty or thirty youthful minds, each of which is looking
forward to the pastorate; and to have them replaced by others every five years.
Such an occupation is enough to make the stoutest heart tremble under an
oppressive sense of its responsibilities. The strength of our churches lies in
our ministry; of our ministry in our colleges; and of our colleges in their
tutors. There is nothing about which we ought to be more concerned, than about
this part of our system.

Happily to whatever department of pastoral education we look, whether to the
philological, mathematical, or philosophical; whether to hermeneutical or
dogmatic theology, we find in our various academic institutions, professors of
whom we are not ashamed. If we need improvement anywhere, it is in the homiletic
and pastoral department. We can scarcely wonder that in such an age as this, our
professors should be anxious to push forward their alumni as far as possible
into the regions of literature and science; or that now that the London
University gives Nonconformists an opportunity of obtaining academic degrees and
honors, they should feel solicitude to give full proof of their official
assiduity by their students obtaining those distinctions. But it is well for
them to remember that one popular, earnest, and successful preacher will bring
more real credit to their college, and give it more favor with the public, than
a dozen Bachelors of Arts, and half-a-dozen Masters to boot! The occasional
exhibition, and it can be but occasional, of the letters denoting a degree
affixed to a man’s name, will not often excite the inquiry, "Where was he
educated?" but the constant exhibition and effect of his power as a preacher
will be a public and permanent recommendation of the institution where he was
trained to such efficiency.

It is true that natural preaching talent will grow in almost any soil, and under
almost any culture. But it may be carried to a higher degree of perfection in
one place, and by one hand, than another. There is also such a thing as colleges
gaining a special and permanent character, one for turning out better scholars,
a second for teaching philosophy better, and a third for carrying on a superior
theological training. But that, in the long run, will be the most useful, and
the most deservedly popular, which succeeds in sending forth the greatest number
of earnest and successful preachers.

All earnestness has a tinge of enthusiasm about it, and as no man can kindle
this in the soul of another who has none of it himself—our tutors should have
this mental fire, with judgment to keep it in its proper place, to do its proper
work; and however they may value classical, scientific, and philosophical
studies, their heart should be set on the formation of popular, powerful, and
useful preachers. Those who know how much there is to do even in the way of
preliminary training, with many young men that enter our seats of learning, and
how much of necessity students’ time and attention must be divided among the
various objects of study, will confess that it is no easy matter to give that
prominence to homiletics which their supreme importance demands. But,
notwithstanding this, opportunities will continually present themselves, to an
anxious and observant professor, for inculcating upon his students that all that
he is teaching them will be useless, if they do not make it subservient to their
great business of preaching the gospel and converting sinners. But it is of
especial importance that our tutors should be upon the alert when their students
begin to preach, that in their first pulpit labors they should select the true
object of all preaching, pursue it in a right course, and seek it with due
vigor. What a student is in his first public services, that he is likely to be
through life; and if he has no earnestness then, he is likely to have little
afterwards. It happens that as all excellences are rarely combined in one man,
many of our professors, though highly gifted as regards talent and acquirement,
are not themselves much distinguished as preachers, and therefore cannot present
in themselves living models of what pulpit power, as to manner, really is.
Still, they who cannot illustrate it by example, can teach it by precept. May
they see the importance of the subject, and labor to the utmost to inculcate it
upon the youths looking up to them for instruction, and make it their chief aim
to kindle in their bosoms, the ardor of pulpit enthusiasm!

We can easily imagine with what delight they must sometimes witness the advance
by their pupils in extensive and accurate scholarship, in analytical power, in
logical acuteness, in philosophical subtlety; and that in some rare cases they
may felicitate themselves on such results of their labor, though they can
foresee they will never be associated with pulpit efficiency. But as a general
rule, nothing with reference to their students, should gratify, much less
satisfy them, short of adaptation to popular effect. The demand preferred by our
country upon the military schools is, "Give us soldiers!" upon our medical
colleges, "Give us surgeons and physicians!" upon our Inns of Court, "Give us
lawyers!" The cry sent up to our pastoral colleges is, "Give us powerful
preachers, devoted pastors!" And it will not do to meet this demand, any more
than it would the others just quoted, by replying, "We will send you Bachelors
and Masters of Arts!" Much less will it do to send men who will feed the
churches with a dry and sapless verbal exegesis of German theology, instead of
the sweet and succulent expositions of our Scotts, our Henrys, our Wardlaws, and
our Barneses.

Ministers may study the profoundest criticisms for their own improvement and
carry on a course of exegetic exposition in the pulpit. But it must be of a
character that shall combine impression with instruction; and let our tutors aim
to train preachers, who shall make their sermons expository, their expositions
sermonic, and both instinct with life and essentially popular. Let them give us
in the men they send into our churches, as much as they can of everything which
can polish the taste, inform, even adorn the intellect, and give weight and
influence to the character in general society; the more of all these
acquirements the better. But let them never forget that what is always needed
for the momentous subject of religion, and what is especially needed in these
times of intense earnestness, is a race of ministers as earnest as the times in
which they live. May God help them to train such ministers for us!

IX. If it be the duty of the churches to call out ministers, it must of course
be no less their duty to provide means for their education. Among all the
objects of Christian benevolence, there is not one which has a prior or a
stronger claim than our collegiate institutions, and yet it is too true that
they are the last whose demands are properly regarded. Among Protestant
Dissenters especially, the main pivot of their whole system is the ministry;
upon this, everything, under God, must turn. As this is strong, everything else
among them will be strong; and as this is weak, everything else will be weak.
The springs which supply the reservoirs of our evangelizing societies, both at
home and abroad, are to be traced back to our colleges—and yet the churches, if
we may judge from their conduct, do not seem to be duly aware of this fact.
Colleges are not however to be considered as ’charity institutions’, where a
race of literary paupers are sustained by the alms of the affluent; for it is
becoming increasingly the practice for our students to pay for their own
board—but beyond this, we have the invaluable services of our professors to pay,
and many other expenses to defray. This outlay must be borne by the churches in
all cases where there is no endowment, or none adequate to the entire support of
the institution. And how can property be better applied? or what expenditure
produces a quicker or more abundant return? A good education for our ministry is
cheaply obtained at any price—and every shilling we expend in this way tells at
once and before our eyes upon the object for which it is intended. And yet
strange to say, there is no object for which we find it more difficult to
maintain a regular and adequate supply of means. Foreign and home missions have
an annual collection from almost every church in our denomination, and yet how
few are there of our churches who grant an annual collection for any college,
and what multitudes who never grant such a collection at all? The platform is
the stage of modern activity—but our colleges can make no exhibition there—we
can employ no succession of orators to advocate our cause by speeches in support
of resolutions; can exhibit no foreigners; can produce no excitement by tales of
horror, of pathos, or of adventure; yet where would the platform be but for the
pulpit, and what is the pulpit without the college?

We ought not, it is true, to do less for our other organizations—but we ought to
do far more for our educational system. We must bestir ourselves, and not allow
this on which everything depends, to fall into the rear, or be thrown into the
shadow of one or two deservedly popular societies. If a larger part of the zeal
manifested in arguing for the ’voluntary principle’ were employed in a more
liberal support of our denominational institutions, they would be in a far
better state than they now are, and the power of that principle more clearly
seen, and more successfully advocated. With all our ardor in the cause of
Nonconformity, it is easier to raise large funds for other objects of
benevolence than for this. The London Missionary Society, which is chiefly
supported by the Congregational body, has an income of nearly eighty thousand
pounds a year; while that same body does not raise by voluntary contributions
more perhaps than eight or nine thousand for our seats of learning; and even
this is not so economically expended as it might be, by a consolidation of our
colleges. It is high time the whole system were looked into.

It is however somewhat cheering to know that this subject is beginning to be
understood by our churches, and a more just appreciation of the value of an
educated ministry, to be made by the intelligence of the age; and as a natural
consequence there is springing up a more general disposition to support the
expense thereby incurred. Many instances have occurred of late, of the owners of
property apportioning a large share of it, either in the way of founding
colleges, or establishing scholarships, for the education of young men for the
ministry. An individual who founds one of these scholarships, may, if he gives
his property at the age of thirty-five, and lives to be seventy, have, during
his lifetime, and ever afterwards, six or seven ministers, educated by his
means, preaching the gospel at the same time—and when he has reached his
heavenly home, may welcome to glory through a long succession of ages souls that
have been saved by the labors of those ministers for whose education he had set
apart his property. How laudable and how noble an object of honorable ambition
does such a proposal present to those who have at once the wish and the means to
do good! Let the churches collectively, and their wealthy members individually,
well consider then the obligation laid upon them to provide all that may be
necessary to ensure the education of a ministry adapted to the circumstances of
this extraordinary age!


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  CHAPTER 24: 02.10.     NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCE
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THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCE TO MAKE THE MINISTRY EFFICIENT This treatise
would be essentially defective in the estimation both of its author and its
readers, if after so much has been advanced about instrumentality, nothing were
to be said about the agency which is necessary to render it effectual for the
accomplishment of its object. In all Divine operations, whether in the world of
nature or of grace, God employs a chain of dependent means for the working out
of his purposes and plans—but though dependent, they are appropriate. In
acknowledging, as we must do, the adaptation of these means to the production of
the intended result, we do homage to God’s wisdom; while in confessing their
dependence for efficiency upon his blessing, we do no less homage to his power
and grace. There is no analogy which I can borrow from the world of nature that
can satisfactorily illustrate the operation of Divine grace on the human mind. I
know very well that second causes in the material universe depend for their
efficiency upon Divine influence—but it is an influence of a totally different
kind, and exerted altogether in a different matter from that of which I now
write; and we are very little aided in our perceptions of the nature of the
Spirit’s operation upon the human mind, by anything we observe in the world of
vegetable or animal life.

There are two aspects in which man is to be viewed in relation to the means
employed for his salvation--he is to be considered as both a rational and a
sinful creature, (or as a rational creature whose reason is under the dominion
of sin), and consequently, whatever method be adopted for his salvation, he must
be dealt with in both these views of his condition. His fallen state as a sinner
has not bereft him of his reason, will, and responsibility. But his reason and
will alone will never lift him out of his condition as a fallen sinner. He
cannot be dealt with otherwise than as he is, and he must be treated as a
rational creature, and not as a brute or a block. His intellect must be appealed
to by argument, and his heart by motives. And it will be seen that in the means
of grace, and especially in preaching, there is provision for this.

There is truth to be presented to the intellect, truth which represents the
whole state of the case between God and the sinner, the nature and obligations
of the moral law, the exceeding sinfulness of sin, the weight of the tremendous
penalty of the violated precept; the wonderful love of God in the provision he
has made for the salvation of the sinner, with the eternal results of misery or
bliss which follow upon faith and unbelief respectively. In this, there is
something in its nature adapted to engage the attention, and to interest the
heart, of the sinner. It is not only the truth—but just the truth that suits his
condition. In addition to this, there is, in preaching, the adaptation of the
manner, as well as the matter, to his circumstances, the tendency of the living
voice, pastoral solicitude, and earnest elocution, to engage the intellect and
impress the heart. It will follow of course that earnestness is a part of this
well-adapted system of means, and the more earnest a man is, the more likely, so
far as means go, is he to do good. For if it is the matter which God blesses to
change the heart, it is also the manner which he blesses to fix the attention
preparatory to this change—there is as obvious an adaptation in the latter as in
the former. How is it, that there is greater efficiency usually attendant upon
hearing the word, than there is upon reading it? Just because there is a greater
adaptation to fix attention and to impress the heart; and by the same rule I
argue there is more adaptation to do this in one man’s manner than in that of
another.

Hence we see that those preachers are most successful who we might expect to be
so, independently of the Divine power. This does not disprove the necessity of a
Divine influence—but only shows what order of instrumentality it is that the
Divine Spirit usually employs, and consequently what instrumentality we should
select. As God does not usually bless ignorance, dullness, obscurity, or
feebleness--we should avoid them; for to look for great results from them, is to
expect not only what God has not promised—but what he very rarely bestows. God
deals with us as rational creatures, by presenting to us, and requiring us to
understand and believe that truth, the reception of which into the heart changes
the whole character and conduct. But there is in the heart of man, not only an
indifference to Divine truth—but an opposition to Divine truth. "The carnal mind
is enmity against God, and is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can
be." The heart so blinds the judgment that "the natural man discerns not the
things of the Spirit of God, neither indeed can he know them, because they are
spiritually discerned." Therefore, however the attention may be gained by the
manner of a preacher, (and gained it must be in order to conversion,) yet the
heart is still opposed to the truth; and hence the need of the Spirit’s
influence to subdue this resistance of the heart to the truth itself. Thus the
truth and the Spirit concur in conversion—it is the sinner being brought to know
and love the objects presented in the truth, therefore the truth must be
presented to the intellect, in order that it may be known and loved. But it
never will be so loved, however theoretically understood, until the Spirit takes
away the disrelish for it, which is in the heart. Without the truth, there is
nothing to engage the attention and employ the intellect of man as a rational
being; without the Spirit there is no right disposition of the heart, when the
truth is so presented.

If a certain quality in an object, is the ground of dislike to it, an increased
knowledge of the object and of this quality, cannot in the nature of things
subdue our hostility; the taste must be changed before the object can be
relished. It is precisely thus with the sinner and the truth; he dislikes the
gospel for its holiness, and no increase of light will vanquish his enmity to
it. Consequently, however earnest the preacher’s manner, and however scriptural
his matter, no saving result will follow--unless the Spirit gives his blessing.
Yet preaching is as necessary as if all were done by it alone, without the
Spirit, because it is by this means that the Spirit usually works in the
conversion of sinners. And since it is by appropriate means that he accomplishes
his purposes, there is nothing in this doctrine to discourage exertion.

There are means which carry in themselves the rational hope, if not the promise,
of success. God will not accept the lame sacrifice, nor send down the signs of
his approval on service which involves no real effort of heart or mind in his
cause. The influence of the Holy Spirit comes not as a bounty upon indolence—but
as a stimulus to exertion. His office is not to give the human faculties a
license to slumber—but to supply man with motives to watchfulness. His descent
upon the church is not as the torpor which betokens disease—but as an element of
activity bespeaking moral and spiritual health.

God is unquestionably sovereign in the dispensation of this blessed influence.
He gives it in such measures, on such occasions, and to such instruments, as it
seems good to him. He who directs the course of the clouds, and causes them to
drop their treasures where and when he pleases, makes the dew of his grace, and
the rain of his Spirit, to fall according to the counsel of his own will. There
is no such necessary connection between the exhibition of the truth and the
conversion of the soul, as there is between the application of fire and the
combustion of inflammable matter. The apostle says, "Who then is Paul, and who
is Apollos—but ministers by whom you believed, even as God gave to every man. I
have planted, Apollos watered—but God gave the increase. So then, neither is he
who plants anything, neither he who waters. But God who gives the increase." One
would think it impossible to mistake the meaning of this language, or to doubt
whether special Divine influence be necessary for the conversion of the soul, or
whether the communication of it be a prerogative of Divine sovereignty.

Still there is every ground to expect the influence we need. It is our privilege
to live under the dispensation of the Spirit, as well as under that of the
Messiah. The former of these is connected with the latter—or perhaps more
correctly speaking they are identical; the covenant established in Christ’s
blood is the economy of the Spirit. The ministry of reconciliation is the
ministry of the Spirit. I do not mean to represent the divine influence of the
Holy Spirit, as confined to the Christian economy, for since the beginning of
time no soul has been converted or sanctified but by his heavenly power. But the
communications of it before the coming of Christ were limited, partial, and
scanty--compared with what they have been since—they constituted not the
’shower’—but only the ’drops’ which precede it. Hence the language of the
evangelist, "This He spoke of the Spirit, who those who believe on him should
receive, for the Holy Spirit was not yet given, because Jesus was not yet
glorified." This idea, that we are under the Spirit’s economy, should enlarge
our expectations of rich communications of his invaluable and essential
blessing. The view I have given of Divine sovereignty is not intended, nor when
rightly understood, is it calculated, to discourage hope—but simply to teach
dependence. While God reserves to himself the right of bestowment, and acts upon
his own rules of communication, he warrants and invites the most comprehensive
requests, and the largest anticipations. Since he has promised to give the
blessing in answer to the prayer of faith, it would seem to be our own fault
that we have it not in more abounding measure. The very recollection of our
privilege in being placed under such an economy, might seem to be enough to call
forth our prayers and to awaken our expectations. Instead of being surprised
that so much of this Divine power accompanies our ministry in the most
successful periods of our history; we should be surprised that we receive so
little of it, and enquire after the obstructing cause. In a country like Egypt,
where rain seldom falls, a shower is the exception, and a dry atmosphere is the
general rule. But in our variable climate, a long drought is the rarity, and the
frequent shower is the common occurrence. The husbandman ploughs and sows in
this land, with his expectant eyes upon the heavens, and feels disappointed if
the fertilizing rain is withheld. So should it be with us, in reference to the
shower of God’s grace. We are not in the dry and arid atmosphere of the
Levitical economy—but enjoy the privilege of the dew-distilling, rain-dropping
dispensation of the Spirit; and with us the question should be, why we have not
more of this Divine influence, and what has provoked the Lord to withhold from
us the vivifying influences of his grace. Instead of being at any time
astonished that our ministry is so much blessed, we should enquire why it is not
always so. When we consider what is said, that God "wills not the death of a
sinner—but would rather that he should repent, and turn from his wickedness and
live," when we recollect what he has done for the salvation of sinners; when we
add to this, that the gospel is his own truth, and preaching his own
institution, we are sometimes ready to wonder that he does not pour out that
influence which is necessary to give effect to the purposes of his own
benevolence, and almost to enquire, "What does the Lord now wait for?" In answer
to this it may be replied, "He waits for the earnest labors of his ministers,
the faith of his church, and the believing prayers of both."

It is quite perceptible that the necessity of Divine influence is rather a dogma
of faith, than a principle of practice, both with ministers and their flocks.
Did the people really believe it, were it matter of inwrought conviction, and
were there the least seriousness of spirit in their religion, how much less
dependence would there be upon ’men’, how much less would there be said about
talent, how much less homage would be paid to genius and eloquence--and how much
more looking up to ’God’ by intense and persevering supplication would there be!
Recollecting that God works by means, and by means adapted to promote his ends,
there would be no danger of sinking into an enthusiastic and irrational neglect
of them. But on the contrary there would be more constant and serious attendance
upon them. The knowledge that preaching, and especially earnest preaching, is
the Spirit’s instrumentality, would lead men to seek that instrumentality, in
order that they might have that blessing.

How highly would it exalt the minister to consider him as the Spirit’s
instrument, and how important would it make the sermon to regard it as God’s
means to bless the soul! To view ministers and sermons apart from the work of
God is immeasurably to sink both; it is to cease to view the preacher as an
ambassador of Christ, and instead of it, to listen to him only as a lecturer on
religion. With what sacred awe and with what fervent prayer would he be heard,
by those who viewed him as the appointed medium of that influence, which, if
received, would illuminate, renew, and sanctify their souls! But if it be
incumbent on the people to remember the dependence of means upon the Divine
blessing, how much more so is it the duty of ministers? It is an article of our
creed, it is often the subject of our sermons, and it is acknowledged in our
prayers. But after all, is our conviction of "dependence upon the Spirit" so
deep, practical, and constant, as to prevent us from attempting anything in our
own strength, and make us to feel strong only in the Lord and in the power of
his might? Do we conduct the pursuits of our studies, as well as regulate the
prayers of our closets, under this conviction? Do we with child-like simplicity,
and in the spirit which we inculcate upon our hearers in reference to their
personal salvation, habitually give ourselves up to the guidance and blessing of
this Divine Agent? Do we look up for divine wisdom to guide us in the selection
of our texts, and the composition of our sermons? Do our eyes and our hearts go
up to heaven, as we think and write for our people? Do we go to our pulpit in a
praying frame, as well as in a preaching one; praying even while we preach, for
our people, as well as for ourselves? Do we thus clothe ourselves with
Omnipotence, and go forth as with the Lord ever with us? Do we recollect that
from all that crowd of immortal souls before us, we shall gather nothing but
human praise or censure, except the Lord be with us; that not one dark mind will
be illumined, not one hard heart softened, not one inquiring soul directed, not
one wounded spirit healed, not one uneasy conscience appeased, unless God the
Spirit does it? Do we really want to accomplish those objects--or merely to
deliver a sermon that will please the people, and gratify our own vanity? If the
former, how entire, how confident, how believing, should be our sense of
dependence upon something far higher than the best and most appropriate
instrumentality! Such a feeling of dependence would cramp none of the energies
of our soul, would stunt none of our powers, quench none of our fire, repress
none of our intensity of manner. So far from it, we would derive from it
unspeakable advantage in addressing our hearers. A seriousness, tenderness, and
majesty, beyond what the greatest unassisted talent could command, would pervade
our discourses. A superhuman influence would rest upon us. A Divine glory would
irradiate us. And we would speak in the power and demonstration of the Spirit!

"Possessed of this celestial unction, we would be under no temptation to neglect
a plain gospel, in quest of amusing speculations and unprofitable novelties; the
most ordinary topics would open themselves with a freshness and interest, as
though we had never considered them before; and the things of the Spirit would
display their inexhaustible variety and depth. We shall pierce the invisible
world, we shall look, so to speak, into eternity, and present the very essence
and core of religion, while too many preachers, for lack of spiritual
discernment, rest satisfied with the surface and the shell. We shall not allow
ourselves to throw one grain of incense on the ’altar of vanity’, and shall
forget ourselves so completely, as to convince our hearers we do so; and
displacing everything else from the attention, leave nothing to be felt or
thought of—but the majesty of truth, and the realities of eternity!" (Hall "The
Discouragements and Support of the Christian Ministry") The preacher who
cherishes such a frame of mind will appear with a radiance not less dazzling
perhaps than that of genius, and far more sacred heavenly and divine; and when
carried to his highest pitch of earnestness and dependence upon God, he will
seem almost to reach the sublime symbol of the apocalypse, of the angel standing
in the sun. "But this kind goes not forth but by fasting and prayer." A deep,
practical conviction of the need of the Spirit, would make us men of prayer,
would send us to our closets, and keep us there! Here perhaps is the cause why
we have not more success in our ministry, and are not more frequently and more
heartily gladdened by the conversion of souls to God; we seek to be men of the
pulpit merely, and are not sufficiently men of the closet. It is a mystery in
God’s moral government that he should make the communications of his grace for
the salvation of sinners dependent in any degree upon the prayers of others; yet
he does so, and we know it; and yet knowing it, how little have we been affected
by it, and stirred up to prayer on this account! We have uttered our complaints
of the fruitlessness of our ministry long enough before one another. But, as
Wilson says in his introduction to the ’Reformed Pastor,’ "One day spent in
fasting and prayer to God, is worth a thousand days of complaint and lamentation
before men!" The author of this work can assure his brethren that it is not with
any disposition to accuse them, and exalt or exculpate himself, that he writes
thus. He takes his full share of blame for his deficiency of a spirit of fervent
prayer, and his full share of humiliation on this account. The activities of the
age, which require us to be so much in public, may furnish, if not an
excuse--some mitigation of blame, for the too little time spent in fervid
private prayer. Devotion is damped by business. Still even with this palliation,
we are verily guilty, for we do not pray as if we believed we were sent to save
souls from eternal death, and that we could not be successful in a single
instance without the grace of God! Who of us can read the diaries of such men as
Doddridge, Brainerd, Payson, and Martyn, and very many others, and not stand
reproved for our lamentable deficiency in the exercise of earnest prayer?

Perhaps in modern times there was never so much of social prayer, and never less
of private prayer. We introduce all our business transactions with prayer—but
too often in a business spirit, and with a sad lack of sincerity, seriousness,
and deep devotion; so that the very frequency and lack of reverence with which
we engage in such exercises of devotion, tends to diminish the spirit of prayer.
Nothing is more to be dreaded than a depression of the spirit of devotion, and
nothing more intensely to be desired than its elevation. A praying ministry must
be an earnest one--and an earnest ministry a praying one!

Let us then feel ourselves called upon by all the circumstances of the times to
abound more and more in fervent supplications. Let us, if we can in no other way
command more time for prayer, take it from study or from sleep. We have neither
right nor reason to expect the Spirit, if we do not ask for his gracious
influence--for without him we can do nothing. Let us take care lest the bustling
activity, and the endless multiplication of societies, should supplant, instead
of calling forth, the feeling of intense devotion. We never more needed
prayer--we were never more in danger of neglecting it. There is plausibility in
the excuse that we had better abridge the time of praying than the time of
acting. But it will be found in the end, that doings carried on at the neglect
of prayer, will end in confusion and vanity. Ministry in the cause of godliness,
however prevalent or energetic--if it be not maintained in a feeling of
dependence upon God--will be regarded by him as the ’image of jealousy’ in the
temple. Our sermons are the power of man, or perhaps we might say his weakness.
But our prayers are in a modified sense, the power of God.

Let us not slacken in preaching—but let us abound more in prayer; let us not
quench a ray of intellect—but let us add to it the warmth of devotion; let us
labor as if the salvation of souls depended upon our own unaided energies--and
then let us feel as the apostle did when he said, "though I am nothing." The
eternal destinies of our hearers hang not only upon our sermons but upon our
prayers; we carry out the purposes of our mission, not only in the pulpit—but in
the closet; and may never expect to be successful ministers of the New
Covenant—but by this two-fold importunity in first beseeching sinners to be
reconciled to God, and then beseeching God to pour out his Spirit upon them—thus
we honor his wisdom in the use of the means he has appointed, and then his power
by confessing our dependence upon his grace.

Baxter concludes his "Reformed Pastor" with an expression of his confidence in
the usefulness of the book he had written, which it would be unwarrantable and
ridiculous vanity in me to adopt in reference to mine, in any other way than
that of hope and prayer. But in this spirit I borrow the language of that great
and holy man, and say, "I am now, brethren, done with my advice, and leave you
to the practice. Though the proud receive it with scorn, and the selfish and
slothful with distaste, or even with indignation--I doubt not but God will use
it, in despite of the opposition of sin and Satan, to the awakening of many of
his servants to their duty, and to the promotion of a work of right reformation;
and that his blessing will accompany the present undertaking--for the saving of
many souls--for the peace of you who undertake and perform it--and for the
increase of the purity and unity of his churches. Amen."


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  CHAPTER 25: 03.00. CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP
========================================================================

CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP The Church Member’s Guide By John Angell James, 1822 Nature
of a Christian Church Nature and Design of Christian Fellowship Privileges of
Membership General Duties of Church Members Duties of Church Members to Their
Pastors Duties of Church Members to Each Other Duties of Church Members to Other
Christian Churches The Pastor’s WIFE

DEACONS Christian PARENTS YOUNG Christians

RICH Christians

POOR Christians Christian TRADESMEN The True Nature of Church Power Mode of
Conducting Church Meetings Admission of Members to the Church


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 26: 03.01.     NATURE OF A CHRISTIAN CHURCH
========================================================================

Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 ON THE NATURE OF A CHRISTIAN
CHURCH

It is obviously incumbent on the members of any community, whether civil or
sacred, to acquaint themselves with its constitution and design; without this,
they can neither adequately enjoy the privileges, nor properly discharge the
duties, which their membership brings with it. Such people are held more by
feeling than by principle; a tenure quite insufficient, as a bond of religious
connection.

It is admitted that as in the human frame, so in the system of divine truth,
there are parts of greater and less importance—and the man who would put the
principles of church government upon a level with the doctrine of the atonement,
and represent a belief in the former as no less essential to salvation than a
reliance upon the latter, betrays a lamentable ignorance of both.

Still, however, although the hand is of less consequence to vitality than the
head or the heart, is it of no value? Will any one be reckless of his members,
because he can lose them and yet live? So because church government is of less
importance to spiritual and eternal life than faith in Christ, will any one
abandon it as a vain and profitless subject? Whatever God has made the subject
of revealed truth, should be guarded, on that account, from being considered as
too frivolous to deserve our attention. The government of the church ought never
to be viewed apart from its moral and spiritual improvement, any more than the
laws of a country should be considered as something distinct from the means of
its civil order, comfort, and strength. It is impossible for us to imagine
otherwise, than that Christ, the head of the church, arranged its government
with a direct reference to its purity and peace, and that the system he has laid
down is the best calculated to promote these ends. Hence, then, it is obviously
our duty to inquire what that system is, not merely for its own sake—but for the
sake of the interests of evangelical piety. The error of viewing the subject of
church government as a mere abstract question, is very common, and has tended
more than anything else, with many people, to lead them to regard it with
indifference and neglect. The acknowledgment of no other rule of faith and
practice than the word of God, must tend to exalt the only infallible standard
of truth, and the only divine means of sanctity—the refusal to own any other
head of the church than Christ, must bring the soul into more direct submission
to him—the scheme of founding a right to spiritual privileges exclusively on the
scriptural marks of religious character, and not upon legislative enactments, or
national dissent, must have a tendency to produce examination, and prevent
delusion—and indeed the habit of viewing the whole business of religion as a
matter of conscience, and not of custom, to be settled between God and a man’s
own soul, must ensure for it a degree of attention more solemn and more
effectual than can be expected, if it be allowed, in any degree, to rank with
the affairs which are regulated by civil legislation.

It will probably be contended by some, in apology for their neglect, that the
New Testament has laid down no specific form of church government, and that
where we are left without a guide, it is useless to inquire if we are following
his directions. If by this it be meant to say, that the Lord Jesus Christ has
left its no apostolic precept or example, which is either directory for our
practice, or obligatory upon our conscience, in the formation of Christian
societies, nothing can be more erroneous. It might be presumed, that a matter of
such moment would not be left so unsettled, and we have only to look into the
Word of God, to see how groundless is the assertion. It is true that we shall
search the New Testament in vain for either precedent or practice, which will
support all the usages of our churches, any otherwise than as these usages are
deduced from the spirit and bearing of general Scriptural principles. These
alone are laid down by the apostles—but still with sufficient precision to
enable us to determine whether the Episcopal, the Presbyterian, or Independent
form of church government, be most consonant with the mind and will of Christ.

What is a Christian church? The word church signifies an assembly. In the New
Testament it invariably applies to people, not to places. It means not the
building in which the assembly is convened—but the assembly itself. It has an
enlarged, and also a more confined signification in the Word of God. In some
places it is employed to comprehend the aggregate of believers of every age and
nation; hence we read of the "general assembly and church of the first born,"
and of the church which "Christ loved and purchased with his blood." In its more
confined acceptance, it means a congregation of professing Christians, meeting
for worship in one place; hence we read of the church at Corinth, of the
Thessalonians, of Ephesus, etc. These are the only two senses in which the word
is ever employed by the sacred writers; consequently all provincial and national
churches, or, in other words, to call the people of a province or nation a
church of Christ, is a most gross perversion of the term, and rendering the
kingdom of Jesus more a matter of geography than of piety. The sacred writers,
when speaking of the Christians of a whole province, never employ the term in
the singular number; but, with great precision of language, speak of the
churches of Galatia, Syria, Macedonia, Asia, etc. A church of Christ, then, in
the latter and more usual acceptance of the term, means "a number of professing
Christians, united to each other by their own voluntary consent, having their
proper officers, meeting in one place for the observance of religious
ordinances, and who are independent of all other control than the authority of
Christ expressed in his word." This company of professing Christians may be few
or many in number, rich or poor in their circumstances, and may meet either in a
shoddy or magnificent building--or in no building at all. These things are
purely secondary; for, provided they answer to the above definition, they are
still, to all intent and purpose, a church of Christ.

I. The members of the church should be such as make a credible profession of
their faith in Christ; or, in other words, such as appear to be regenerated by
the Spirit of God, to have believed in the Lord Jesus for salvation, and to have
submitted themselves in their conduct to the authority of his word. To these the
Head of the church has limited the privileges of his kingdom; they alone can
enjoy its blessings, and perform its duties; and to such the Epistles are
uniformly addressed, Romans 1:7. 1 Corinthians 1:2. etc. If these passages are
read, it will be found that the members of the first churches are not merely
admonished to be saints—but are addressed as such; which is a circumstance of
great weight in determining the question about the proper subjects of
fellowship. But who is to judge in this case? I answer, the church; for although
no instance can be brought from the New Testament, in which any one of the
primitive churches can be proved to have exercised this power, yet, as it is a
voluntary society, founded on the principle of mutual affection, it seems
reasonable that the church should judge of the existence of those qualifications
which are necessary to the enjoyment of communion. The very act of obtruding
upon them anyone without their own consent, whether by a minister or by elders,
is destructive of one purpose of Christian association—that is, the fellowship
of the brethren. Nor is the power of searching the heart requisite for those who
exercise the right of admitting others, since we are to judge of each other by
outward conduct.

II. This company of professing Christians must meet in one place for the
observance of religious institutes. A society that cannot associate, an assembly
that cannot assemble, are total contradictions. When, therefore, a church
becomes too large to communicate at one table, and divides, to eat the Lord’s
supper, in two distinct places of worship, each having its own pastor, there are
two churches, and no longer one only.

III. These people must be formed into a society upon the principle of mutual
voluntary consent. They are not to be associated by act of civil government, by
ecclesiastical decree, by ministerial authority, or by any other power than that
of their own unconstrained choice. They are to give themselves first to the
Lord, and then to each other. No authority whatever, of an earthly nature, is to
constrain them to unite themselves in fellowship, nor to select for them any
particular company of believers with whom they shall associate. All is to be the
result of their own selection. Parochial limits, ecclesiastical divisions of
country, together with all the commands of ministerial authority, have nothing
to do in regulating the fellowship of the saints. The civil power, when employed
to direct the affairs of the church of Christ, is manifestly out of place. It is
as much at a man’s own option, so far as human authority is concerned, to say
with whom he will associate in matters of religion, as it is to decide who shall
be his fellows in philosophical or literary pursuits.

IV. A church of Christ has its scriptural officers. Here two questions arise—
First, How many kinds of officers does the New Testament mention? Secondly, How
are they to be chosen? As to the KINDS of office-bearers in the primitive
churches, there can be neither doubt nor difficulty with any one who will
impartially consult the Word of God. With all that simplicity which
characterizes the works of God, which neither disfigures his productions with
what is excessive, nor encumbers them with what is unnecessary, he has
instituted but two kinds of permanent officers in his church, bishops (or
elders) and deacons; the former to attend to its spiritual affairs, and the
latter to direct its temporal concerns. That there were but two, is evident,
because we have no information concerning the choice, qualifications, or duties
of any other. The BISHOPS of the primitive churches correspond exactly to the
pastors of modern ones. That bishop, elder, and pastor, are only different terms
for the same office, is evident from Acts 20:17, compared with the Acts 20:28;
Titus 1:5, Titus 1:7, and 1 Peter 5:1-2. They are called BISHOPS, which
signifies overseers, because they overlook the spiritual concerns, and watch for
the souls of their brethren, Acts 20:28, 1 Timothy 3:1. PASTORS or shepherds,
because they feed the flock of God with truth, Ephesians 4:11. RULERS, because
they guide the church, Hebrews 13:7. ELDERS, because of their age, or of their
possessing those qualities which age supposes, Titus 1:5. MINISTERS, because
they are the servants of Christ and the gospel. Ephesians 6:21. The DEACON is
appointed to receive and distribute the funds of the church, especially those
which are raised for the relief of the poor. All other kinds of officers than
these two, are the inventions of men, and not the appointment of Christ; and
which, by intending to add splendor to the kingdom of Jesus, have corrupted its
simplicity, destroyed its spirituality, and caused it to symbolize with the
kingdoms of this world. On the mode of electing them to their office the
Scripture is sufficiently explicit, to justify the practice of those
denominations who appeal to the voices of the people. If the Acts of the
Apostles be studied with care, a book which seems given us more for the
regulation of ecclesiastical practices, than the revelation of theological
opinions, we shall find that nothing was done in the primitive churches without
the cooperation of the members; no, not even when the apostles themselves were
present. Even the election of a new apostle was made by the brethren, and not by
the ministers exclusively. Acts 1:21, Acts 1:26. The deacons were chosen by the
same people. Acts 6:1-15. The decrees of the council at Jerusalem were passed
also by them, and went forth with their name. Acts 15:23. From hence we infer,
that although no case occurs in the inspired history, where it is mentioned that
a church elected its pastor, yet it so entirely accords with the practice of the
church in other respects, that an exception in this particular would have been a
singular anomaly, which nothing could justify but the plainest and most express
provision. The decisions of reason harmonize, on this subject, with the
testimony of revelation; for if we have an undoubted right to choose our own
lawyer, or physician, how much more so, to elect the man to whom we shall
entrust the care of our soul! If we should feel it hard to be obliged to take
the medicines of the parish doctor, whether we liked them or not, how much more
oppressive is it, that we should be obliged to hear the opinions of the parish
minister, who may have been appointed by the patron for other qualifications
than those of a spiritual nature, and whose sentiments may be as much opposed to
the doctrines of the gospel, as his conduct is to its holiness! What! are we to
be obliged to look up to such a man as our spiritual instructor, because some
profligate, who has control of the office, chooses to introduce him to the
vacant pulpit?

V. A Christian church, with its office-bearers, is complete within itself, for
the observance of divine ordinances, and the exercise of discipline; and is
subject to no authority or tribunal on earth. This is the Congregational or
Independent form of church government, and it is thus denominated, to
distinguish it from the Episcopal, or the government of a bishop, and from the
Presbyterian, or the government of the churches by the authority of their
assembled pastors and elders. No trace of any foreign control over a church of
Christ, can be found in the New Testament, except such as the representatives of
Jesus Christ.

VI. Such a church is bound, by the authority of Christ, in their associated
capacity, to observe all the institutes, to obey all the commands, and to
cherish all the dispositions, which relate to their social union, in the time,
order, and manner in which they are enjoined by Christ Jesus. They are to
assemble in public on the first day of the week for prayer, praise, hearing the
Scriptures read and expounded, celebrating the Lord’s supper, and exercising
mutual affection. They are also bound by divine authority to maintain the purity
of the church, by receiving only such as give evidence of true faith, and by
excluding from their communion all those whose life is opposed to the doctrine
which is according to godliness. They are to live in the exercise of mutual
submission and brotherly love, and ever to consider themselves responsible to
the tribunal of Christ, for their conduct in their church capacity.

Such is a very concise view of the nature of a Christian church.

Hence what might be termed the GENERAL principles of the New Testament on this
topic, are the all-sufficiency and exclusive authority of the Scriptures as a
rule of faith and practice in matters of religion—the consequent denial of the
right of legislatures and ecclesiastical conventions to impose any rites,
ceremonies, observances, or interpretations of the Word of God, upon our belief
and practice—the unlimited and inalienable right of every man to expound the
Word of God for himself, and to worship his Maker in that place and manner which
he deems to be most accordant with the directions of the Bible—the utter
impropriety of any alliance or incorporation of the church of Christ with the
governments of the kingdoms of this world—the duty of every Christian to oppose
the authority which would attempt to fetter his conscience with obligations to
religious observances not enjoined by Christ. These are general principles,
which should lead the thinking Christian to separate from all national
establishments of religion whatever.

It is not enough to plead the authority of ’example’, or of mere ’feeling’, as a
reason for any religious service. These are insufficient pilots on the troubled
ocean of theological opinion, where opposing currents, stormy winds, and
concealed rocks, endanger the safety of the voyager to eternity. Our compass is
the word of God; ’reason’ must be the steersman at the helms to guide the vessel
by the direction of the needle, and that mariner is accountable for the
consequences, who is too ignorant or too indolent to examine his course.

Away with that morbid insensibility which exclaims, "It is of no consequence to
what church or denomination a man belongs, provided he be a Christian." Such a
spirit is a conspiracy against the throne of truth, and is the first step
towards a complete abandonment of the importance of right sentiments. Admitting
that error is to be measured by a graduated scale, who will undertake to fix
upon the point where harmless mistakes end--and mischievous ones begin?
Everything relating to religion is of consequence. In the temple of truth, not
only the foundation is to be valued and defended—but every point and every
pinnacle.

It does not necessarily follow that an inquiry into the grounds of our conduct
should embitter our temper. The mist of angry passion obscures the splendor of
truth, as much as fogs do the effulgence of the solar orb. Let us contend
earnestly for right principles—but let it be in the exercise of right feelings.
Let us hold the truth in love. Then do our sentiments appear to greatest
advantage, and look like gems set in gold, when they are supported by a spirit
of Christian charity.

"O divine love! the sweet harmony of souls! the music of angels! the joy of
God’s own heart; the very darling of his bosom! the source of true happiness!
the pure quintessence of heaven! that which reconciles the jarring principles of
the world, and makes them all chime together! that which melts men’s hearts into
one another! See how Paul describes it, and it cannot choose but enamor your
affections towards it—"Love envies not, it is not puffed up, it does not behave
itself unseemly, seeks not her own, is not easily provoked, thinks no evil,
rejoices not in iniquity; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all
things, endures all things." I may add, love is the best natured thing, the best
complexioned thing in the world. Let us express this sweet harmonious affection
in these jarring times; that so, if it be possible, we may tune the world into
better music. Especially in matters of religion, let us strive with all meekness
to instruct and convince one another. Let us endeavor to promote the gospel of
peace, the dove-like gospel, with a dove-like spirit. This was the way by which
the gospel at first was propagated in the world.

"Christ did not cry nor lift up his voice in the streets; a bruised reed he did
not break, and the smoking flax he did not quench; and yet he brought forth
judgment unto victory. He whispered the gospel to us from mount Zion, in a still
voice; and yet the sound thereof went out quickly throughout all the earth. The
gospel at first came down upon the world gently and softly, like the dew on
Gideon’s fleece; and yet it quickly penetrated through it; and, doubtless, this
is still the most effectual way to promote it farther. Sweetness and kindness
will more command men’s minds, than angry passion, sourness, and severity; as
the soft pillow sooner breaks the flint than the hardest marble. Let us "follow
truth in love;" and of the two, indeed, be contented rather to miss of the
conveying a speculative truth, than to part with love. When we would convince
men of any error by the strength of truth, let us withal pour the sweet balm of
love upon their heads. Truth and love are two of the most powerful things in the
world; and when they both go together, they cannot easily be withstood. The
golden beams of truth, and the silken cords of love, twisted together, will draw
men on with a sweet power, whether they will or not.

"Let us take heed we do not sometimes call that zeal for God and his gospel,
which is nothing else but our own tempestuous and stormy passion. True zeal is a
sweet, heavenly, and gentle flame, which makes us active for God—but always
within the sphere of love. It never calls for fire from heaven to consume those
who differ a little from us in their apprehensions. It is like that kind of
lightning, (which the philosophers speak of,) that melts the sword within—but
singes not the scabbard—it strives to save the soul—but hurts not the body. True
zeal is a loving thing, and makes us always active to edification, and not to
destruction. If we keep the fire of zeal within the chimney, in its own proper
place, it never does any hurt; it only warms, quickens, and enlivens us; but if
once we let it break out, and catch hold of the thatch of our flesh, and kindle
our corrupt nature, and set the house of our body on fire, it is no longer zeal,
it is no heavenly fire, it is a most destructive and devouring thing. True zeal
is a soft and gentle flame, that will not scorch one’s hand; it is no predatory
or voracious thing. Carnal and fleshly zeal is like the spirit of gunpowder set
on fire, that tears and blows up all that stands before it. True zeal is like
the vital heat in us, that we live upon, which we never feel to be angry or
troublesome; but though it gently feed upon the radical oil within us, that
sweet balsam of our natural moisture, yet it lives lovingly with it, and
maintains that by which it is fed—but that other furious and distempered zeal,
is nothing else but a fever in the soul.

"To conclude, we may learn what kind of zeal it is, that we should make use of
in promoting the gospel, by an emblem of God’s own, given us in the Scripture,
those fiery tongues, that upon the day of Pentecost sat upon the Apostles—which
sure were harmless flames, for we cannot read that they did any hurt, or that
they did so much as singe an hair of their heads." Cudworth’s Sermon before the
House of Commons, 1647.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 27: 03.02.     NATURE AND DESIGN OF CHRISTIAN FELLOWSHIP
========================================================================

Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 NATURE and DESIGN of Christian
Fellowship

"For lack of clear information on this head, there is, both before and after
admission, in the minds of many people, a certain mystic obscurity hanging over
the subject, which either repels them from seeking for admission, or fills them
with disquiet. Christian churches have no mysteries—no hidden secrets. It is a
pernicious policy which would exalt plain duties into secret rites, and
transform the simple institutions of the gospel into enigmas." Nothing is more
plain than the nature of Christian fellowship, yet nothing is less understood.

I. Church fellowship is the exercise of the social principle in matters of
religion, and in obedience to the authority of Christ.

Many people seem to imagine that the only end and object of church fellowship,
is the participation of the Lord’s supper. Hence they attach no other idea to a
church, than that of a company of Christians going together to the sacramental
table; who having nothing to do with each other, until they arrive there, and
whose reciprocal duties end with that Ordinance. The observance of the Lord’s
supper, it is confessed, is one design and exercise of fellowship; but it is not
the only one. Man is a social being, by which we mean that he instinctively
seeks the company of his fellows; is capable of enjoying their society, and
derives from their communion no small portion of his improvement and felicity.
The aphorism of Solomon is as just as it is beautiful, "As iron sharpens iron,
so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend."

Social bliss was the finish of paradisiacal happiness; its influence has
survived the shock of our apostasy, and will be felt amid the felicities of the
heavenly state. It is not matter of surprise, therefore, that the Lord Jesus
should recognize the social principle in the arrangements of his wise and
merciful economy. He might have left his people unconnected by any visible bond,
or at best with no other guide to each other than the natural workings and
affinities of the human bosom. Instead of this, however, he has by explicit
authority grafted the duties of his religion upon the propensities of our social
nature. The identifying law of Christ’s kingdom is love to one another; and in
order that this love may be more perfect in its exercise, we are united in
visible communion. When, therefore, we join a Christian church, we enter a
society of believers for the purpose of giving and receiving every suitable
expression of mutual love. We then associate ourselves with those towards whom
we are to cherish, in consequence of a common relationship, the kindest
emotions. We are not only to worship with them in the same place, not only to
sit with them at the same sacramental table—but we are to consider ourselves as
one of their fellowship, to identify our best feelings with theirs, and in all
things to consider ourselves members one of another. Our fellowship is not
intended for, nor is it to be expressed by, any one exclusive act—but it is to
extend itself to every possible way of having communion with each other. We are
to rejoice together in the common salvation; and to bring forth together the
fruits of a like precious faith. Watts has very beautifully expressed the
feelings which every church member, who understands his relationship, constantly
recognizes.

"My soul shall pray for Zion still, While life or breath remains; There my best
friends, my kindred dwell; There God my Savior reigns." The great end of
Christian fellowship, and the impropriety of limiting its design to a
celebration of the Lord’s table, are strikingly represented by Mr. Hall,
"Nothing is more certain than that the communion of saints is by no means
confined to one particular occasion, or limited to one transaction, such as that
of assembling around the Lord’s table; it extends to all the modes by which
believers recognize each other as the members of a common Head. Every expression
of fraternal regard, every participation in the enjoyments of social worship,
every instance of the unity of the Spirit exerted in prayer and supplication, or
in acts of Christian sympathy and friendship, as truly belong to the communion
of saints, as the celebration of the Lord’s table. In truth, if we are strangers
to communion with our fellow Christians on other occasions, it is impossible for
us to enjoy it there; for the mind is not a piece of mechanism which can be set
going at pleasure, whose movements are obedient to the call of time and place.
Nothing short of an habitual sympathy of spirit, springing from the cultivation
of benevolent feeling, and the interchange of kind services, will secure that
reciprocal delight, that social pleasure, which is the soul of Christian
communion. Its richest fruits are frequently reserved for private conference,
like that in which the two disciples were engaged, in their way to Emmaus, when
their hearts burned within them, while the Lord opened to them the Scriptures.
When they take sweet counsel together as they go to the house of God in company,
when they bear each other’s burdens, weep with those that weep, and rejoice with
them that rejoice—that is Christian fellowship." The sacred historian has given
us a very beautiful practical exhibition of the ends of Christian fellowship in
Acts 2:41-47, "Those who believed what Peter said were baptized and added to the
church—about three thousand in all. They joined with the other believers and
devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, sharing in the
Lord’s Supper and in prayer. A deep sense of awe came over them all, and the
apostles performed many miraculous signs and wonders. And all the believers met
together constantly and shared everything they had. They sold their possessions
and shared the proceeds with those in need. They worshiped together at the
Temple each day, met in homes for the Lord’s Supper, and shared their meals with
great joy and generosity—all the while praising God and enjoying the goodwill of
all the people. And each day the Lord added to their group those who were being
saved."

Here we see the social principle putting forth all its energies in a way of
sacred fellowship, and with direct reference to religion. A new and holy
brotherhood was set up, of which love to Christ, and to each other for Christ’s
sake, was the bond. There was the recognition of a common relationship, and the
exercise of all that affection which it involved. The converts immediately gave
themselves to each other, as members one of another, and not only performed acts
of religious worship together—but exercised a reciprocal and most substantial
benevolence, and afforded the most valuable mutual service.

"Imagination can scarcely delineate a scene more amiably interesting, than that
which the infant church in reality displayed. Bound together by the fellowship
of sentiments, feeling, and affection—having one Lord, one faith, one
baptism—the believers in Christ found more than a compensation for the contempt,
and hatred, and persecution of the world, in their common hopes, and mutual
offices of kindness. Around them was a scene of crude agitation and wild
confusion—but within the little circle of their society all was union, harmony,
and love." Alas, alas, that this reign of love and peace should be of such short
duration, that the apostles lived to witness, not indeed its termination—but its
interruption, and had to interpose their authority to stop the progress of false
opinions, and the alienation of heart to which error had given rise. This
exercise of the social principle is conducted with direct reference to the
authority of Christ. He who is our Lord has commanded it. It is his will that
his people should not live solitarily and unconnected—but in visible
association. To the question, therefore, Why are you a church member?—the first
answer must be, Because Jesus Christ has commanded it. Independently of the
advantages arising from this practice, the true ground of it is the authority of
our divine Lord. It is not only a privilege which he has permitted us to
enjoy—but a duty which he has commanded us to perform. If we were unable to
perceive its advantages, it would still be our duty to comply with it. Church
fellowship is no less a duty than the observance of the first day Sabbath, as
the same reasons may be advanced for one as for the other. From not viewing it
in this light it is, that so many refuse to join themselves to the church—they
consider membership merely in the light of a privilege which it is at their
option to receive or refuse. This is a very great and very injurious error. If a
believer remains outside visible connection with some Christian society, he is
guilty of direct disobedience against his rightful Lord.

II. Fellowship is the instituted way of making a public profession of the faith
and hope of the gospel. A man may hold the opinions and approve the practices of
some voluntary, worldly society—but until he has united himself with it, he is
not considered, either by its members or the public, as one of their number. His
actually joining himself to them according to the established usage, is his
profession. Thus a man may be a sincere believer of the gospel, and, so far as
respects his own private conduct, an exemplary example of genuine piety—but
until he has connected himself with a Christian church, he has not professed
himself to be a Christian. It is by that act he declares to the world his faith
and hope as a believer in Christ. It is thus he virtually says, "I receive the
opinions, possess the dispositions, submit to the obligations, and observe the
practices of the church of God with which I now connect myself." Jesus Christ
has made it our duty not only to receive his truth into our hearts—but to
confess him before men; and it is a duty on which very considerable stress is
laid. This is to be done, not in any ostentatious way—but by joining ourselves
to his people—which is a confession, that both the church and the world clearly
understand. Hence it is apparent, that church membership is no trifling matter,
since it is calling heaven, earth, and hell, to witness our solemn declaration
of submission to the authority of Christ. It is saying, in the hearing of more
worlds than one, "I am a Christian."

III. Fellowship is the visible bond of union with the disciples of Jesus.

Christians are not only to be united—but are to exhibit their union. Their
oneness of sentiment, of affection, of purpose, is to be seen. We are not only
to love one another—but our love is to be known, which is impossible without
membership. In its collective capacity, a church concentrates, as in a focus,
the light and love that exist in her individual members. Without being combined
in a visible union, its splendor would be only as the dim and scattered light
which was diffused over the chaos in the twilight of creation, while the
fellowship of the saints is the same light gathered up and embodied in the solar
orb. We are indeed united in spirit with the church of Christ, from the moment
we have believed his gospel—but our union is neither expressed nor recognized,
until we have joined it in the usual way. We are citizens in feeling and
intention—but not yet known from enemies, aliens, and spies. Membership,
therefore, is the bond of visible union with the brethren in Christ.

IV. Fellowship is an explicit declaration of our determination to submit to the
government and discipline of the church.

Every society has laws for the regulation of its affairs. Without these it could
not exist; and to which every member professes, at the time of his entrance, his
determination to submit. The church of the Redeemer has in like manner its
social rules, which respect the members in their associated capacity. We are
therefore not only amenable to the direct authority of Christ—but also to that
authority expressed by the voice of the church; we must submit to all its
regulations, observe all its injunctions, support its decisions, or we can no
longer remain in its communion. If we are called before it, we must appear; if
required to explain any part of our conduct, we must comply; if censured, we
must submit. We are in no case haughtily to exclaim, "What is the church, that I
should obey it? to my own master I stand or fall." Our act of joining the
society is an explicit declaration of our willingness to submit to the laws by
which it is governed. We can voluntarily secede when there is just occasion, or
in case of a false decision, we can mildly protest—but as long as we continue
members we must submit, for our very membership professes and requires it.

V. Fellowship is designed to exhibit upon a smaller scale that sublime and
glorious union and communion which exist, not only between all real Christians
of every country, name, and age—but between the whole redeemed church and their
Divine Head.

Passages of a very striking importance speak of this most comprehensive
confederation. "That in the dispensation of the fullness of times, he might
gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven and which
are on earth; even in him." Ephesians 1:10. "There is one body and one spirit."
Ephesians 4:4. "That which we have seen and heard, declare we unto you, that you
also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father
and with his Son Jesus Christ." 1 John 1:3. From these passages we learn that
the aggregate of believers, united to Jesus Christ, and through him to the
Father, form one vast harmonious fellowship of holiness and benevolence. They
are united in the same pursuit, which is the divine glory; in the same means for
the attainment of that object, which is the salvation of the soul. The church
universal will ever remain the one grand monument on which are recorded the
praises of the living God. Of this general assembly every particular society is
the miniature resemblance. By its public worship, its beautiful subordination,
its mutual affection, its truth, its holiness, its peace, it is an exhibition to
the world of that fellowship which has God in Christ for its head, all believers
for its members, heaven for its temple, and eternity for its duration; while
every time it assembles for worship, it shows forth the unity of the church, and
the communion of saints.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 28: 03.03.     PRIVILEGES OF MEMBERSHIP
========================================================================

Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 THE PRIVILEGES OF MEMBERSHIP

"The privileges of membership are, in a general sense, to bring Christians, as
such, more closely together, to make them known to each other in that character,
and to bind them by positive engagements to neighborly offices, godly communion,
and brotherly kindness." But to descend to particulars, these privileges consist
in, I. The participation of the Lord’s supper. That a reception of the appointed
memorials of the Savior’s dying love, is indeed a privilege, requires no proof.
As creatures, whose minds are instructed, and whose hearts are impressed through
the medium of our senses, how affecting are the emblems of the body and blood of
Christ! Enough of resemblance may be observed by the imagination, between the
sign and the thing signified, to aid the exercise of the affections, while
enough of simplicity remains to prevent the excursions of the imagination from
interfering with the more sublime and scriptural operations of our faith. That
sacramental seasons are commonly the most happy and most profitable which a
believer ever spends among the means of grace, is a fact not to be denied. It is
no wonder that it should be so. It is at the sacred supper that the attention is
more powerfully arrested and fixed, and the heart impressed and affected. It is
there, that the scheme of redeeming mercy seems peculiarly to expand upon the
understanding, and to excite the emotions of the bosom in a degree almost
unknown elsewhere. It is there that the glory of the divine character has been
most clearly discovered by our mind; there, that Jesus has unfolded to us the
wonders of his mediation and there, that the eternal Spirit has descended into
our souls, in the most munificent communications of his sanctifying and
consoling influence. How have our icy hearts there melted beneath the ardor of
celestial love, and flowed down in streams of godly sorrow! How have our
groveling, earthly minds soared, on the wings of faith and hope, until we have
lost sight of earthly scenes and sounds, amid the glory of such as are divine.
It is there, that we have felt ourselves crucified with Christ, and have risen
with him into newness of life. It is there, that brotherly love has glowed with
its most perfect fervor, and the communion of saints has yielded its most
precious delights. Happier hours than those which have been there spent, we
never expect to know in this world. They have left a relish and a fragrance upon
the mind; the remembrance of them is sweet, and the anticipation of their return
is among the brightest hopes we have this side the veil.

II. Another privilege connected with membership is, the right of assisting in
the choice of a pastor, in the election of deacons, and in the admission and
exclusion of members.

It might indeed be said, that in many cases this right is enjoyed by those who
are not church members—be it so—but as it is in every case enjoyed by those who
are members, it may be very fairly placed in the number of their privileges.
That it is also in a measure enjoyed by all people who, in a town where there
are more places of worship than one, choose the minister whose preaching they
will attend, is also granted—but still there is a great difference between
choosing a minister to occupy a particular station, and merely going to hear him
when chosen by others.

It must surely be accounted no inconsiderable privilege to have a voice in the
election of an individual, on whose ministrations so much of our own spiritual
welfare, and that of our families, depends; nor is it a light thing to be
admitted to a participation of the other business connected with, and arising
from, the history of a church.

III. A church member has the advantage of pastoral oversight and supplication.

"They watch for your souls," said the apostle to the ancient Christians, when
speaking of their pastors; evidently implying that it was a great privilege to
be the subjects of such inspection. A faithful friend, that will instruct, warn,
comfort, or reprove, as circumstances may require, is a great treasure; and such
a one a Christian will find—or ought to find—in his minister. In him he has a
right to expect a steady, active, and vigilant guardian of his eternal
interests; one who will follow the individuals of his charge, as far as can be,
through all their spiritual career comforting them when in distress, rousing
them when lukewarm, reproving them when their conduct needs rebuke, lending his
ear to their every distress, and opening his heart to receive their every grief.
A faithful pastor will consider himself as the guide and the shield of the souls
committed to his care; a shepherd to provide for their wants, a watchman to
observe the approach of their dangers. He will visit them in the afflictions
which attend their pilgrimage; will hasten to their bedside when the sorrows of
death encompass them; will disclose to the eye of faith the visions of
immortality, which irradiate the dark valley itself; and will never cease his
solicitude until the portals of heaven have closed upon their disembodied
spirits. In addition to this, the pastor bears the church in the arms of his
affection, and presents them in his prayers before the throne of grace. Like the
high priest of the Jews, he approaches the mercy seat, not with the names of the
people merely engraved upon his breastplate—but written upon his heart. Nor does
he confine himself to general supplications for the society in the aggregate;
its individual members, in their separate capacity and peculiar circumstances,
are often the subjects of his intercession before the fountain of life. As he
takes a deep interest in their personal, no less than in their collective
capacity, he expresses his concern by definite and special supplication. Not
only are sermons composed—but prayers presented, which are adapted to the
various cases of his flock. The afflicted, the backsliding, the tempted, the
novice, are all in turn remembered in his holiest moments before God. Nor can
any of these individuals say to which they are most indebted, to his labors in
the pulpit, or to his supplications in the closet; for if "the effectual fervent
prayer of the righteous man avails much," we certainly may believe that the
entreaty of the righteous minister is not less availing.

IV. The watchfulness, sympathy and prayers of the church, are no inconsiderable
privilege of membership. In what way these duties should be performed, will be
matter of consideration hereafter; and therefore we shall not enter minutely
into the subject now, any farther than to show how great a mercy it is to enjoy
an interest in the affection and the intercession of a Christian society. We are
commanded to exhort one another daily; and amid such temptations, such weakness,
such corruptions as ours—is it not an unspeakable mercy to be surrounded by
those who will watch over and assist us? With every help, how hard a thing is it
to be a consistent Christian! How difficult to maintain the purity and vigor of
true godliness! How often do our steps slip, and our exertions relax! And
sometimes, through the deceitfulness of the human heart, others may perceive our
danger before we ourselves are aware of its existence. It may often be said of
us, as it was of Israel of old, "Strangers have devoured his strength, yet he
knows it not; grey hairs are here and there upon him, yet he knows it not." In
such cases, none can estimate the value of those Christian friends, who with
faithful love will remind us of our danger, and affectionately admonish us. How
inestimable the privilege of having those who will tenderly reprove us, and draw
us back with the cords of a man and the bands of love. In the case of our soul’s
salvation, more than worlds are at stake; and he who will give himself the
trouble to admonish us and exhort us to diligence, performs a service of
infinite value, for which, if we improve by it, we shall offer him our gratitude
in eternity. And then think of the value of Christian sympathy. How consolatory
it is in our troubles to recollect, that there are those who are thinking of our
situation and pitying our distress! Even when they visit us not, they are
probably talking to each other about us. We have their affectionate remembrance,
their tenderest interest. Nor are their prayers withheld when they meet in the
temple, or when they retire to the closet. When they join with one accord in
supplication, and when they pray to their Father in secret, they mention their
suffering brother or sister, to Him who loves the church. Ah! how often has the
troubled believer felt it lighten his load, and irradiate his gloom, as he
groaned away the hour when the church was assembled, to believe that they were
thinking of him, and blessing him with their prayers! It has been as if an angel
were dispatched to inform him that supplication was being made for him, and that
therefore he ought to dry up his tears. Yes, and the sweet remembrance has in
some cases made the tears forget to fall, and the half uttered groan to die away
with silent submission. He has laid down upon his restless couch again, and it
seemed as if it had been smoothed afresh for him by some viewless agent; and so
it has, for God has heard the prayers of the church on his behalf, and has made
"all his bed in his sickness."

* It has been said that the last two particulars are not the privileges of
members exclusively, nor of them as members of a particular church—but as
Christians in general. It is unquestionable, however, that church members have a
prior and a stronger claim upon their pastors and each other, for these
expressions of sympathy, than any others have; and it has been admitted, even by
those who object to the author’s statement, "that churches were originally
formed only to secure and promote the social objects of their union—that is, to
bring Christians, as Christians, more closely together, to make them known to
each other in that character, and to bind them by positive engagements to
neighborly offices and brotherly kindness;" if this be correct, as it
unquestionably is, then certainly church members, as such, have peculiar claims
upon their pastors and each other for neighborly offices and brotherly
kindness—and who will doubt if this be a privilege? One great end of membership,
is to found a peculiar claim for these manifestations not merely of
Christian—but of brotherly love. If there be no peculiarity of claim above what
we have upon each other as Christians, why are we formed into separate churches?
It appears to me, then, that in addition to the obligation which rests upon me
to pray for and watch over my members as Christians, I am bound to take a
special interest in their spiritual affairs as members of the church under my
care. They stand in a relation totally different from that of people not in
communion—and are entitled far beyond the latter to my sympathy, prayer, and
vigilance.


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 29: 03.04.     GENERAL DUTIES OF CHURCH MEMBERS
========================================================================

Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 GENERAL DUTIES OF CHURCH MEMBERS
IN THEIR INDIVIDUAL CAPACITY I. They should seek to acquire clear and enlarged
views of divine truth.

It is a fact which cannot be questioned, that a very large proportion of those
whom we believe to be real Christians, are mere babes in knowledge. They have
just enough instruction to know that they are sinners, and that salvation is all
of grace through Christ Jesus. But ask them to state, prove, and defend, in a
scriptural manner, any one of the leading doctrines of the gospel, and you would
immediately discover, how contracted is their view, and how feeble is their
perception of divine truth. Instead of walking amid the splendid light and
varied scenery of Scriptural revelation, with the confidence and joy of men
whose vision is clear and strong, they are groping along with the fear and
hesitation of those who are partially blind. This, in most cases, is their
fault—and not merely their misfortune. We are commanded to grow in knowledge;
and the apostle in the following very severe language, reproved the believing
Hebrews for their ignorance. "When for the time you ought to be teachers, you
have need that one teach you again, the first principles of the oracles of God."
After this he exhorts them to leave the principles of the doctrine of Christ,
and go on to perfection. How earnestly, in other parts of his writings, did he
supplicate for the churches, an increase of their religious knowledge! Ephesians
1:17-18. Colossians 1:9. It is very common for ministers to complain that they
are almost afraid to ascend to the loftier parts of revealed truth, lest a great
portion of their hearers, instead of eagerly following them, should reproach
them with ascending to barren and almost inaccessible summits. The causes of
this deficiency of Scriptural knowledge are numerous and various. In many cases,
the lack of a biblical education contributes to it. Not a few of them are
brought in from the world, when they are far advanced in life.

There is, with many, a more culpable cause; I mean a systematic neglect of the
Scriptures. "What!" they exclaim, "will head knowledge do for us? we are for
experience; experience is everything in religion." What kind of experience that
is, which is not founded on knowledge—I am at a loss to conceive. With such
people, ignorance appears to be the mother of devotion. It should be recollected
that it is in the spiritual world, as it is in the natural; the seed of the
kingdom is sown in the ’light of truth’, and light is essential to every stage
of its growth. If that be not right knowledge, which does not produce feeling,
certainly that is not right feeling which is not produced by knowledge. Those
who have only head knowledge—dwell in the frigid zone of Christianity; and those
who have only feeling—occupy the torrid zone. The former are frozen amid mere
cold and heartless speculation; the latter are scorched amid wild fanaticism.

How much more real enjoyment of the truth is possessed by him who clearly and
comprehensively understands it! and how much more useful is he likely to be in
communicating instruction, than the individual who barely understands first
principles! Every professing Christian, at least all those who have leisure for
reading, should endeavor to unite the knowledge of a good theologian with the
experience of a real believer. In order to accomplish this, let Christians set
apart time not only for reading—but studying the scriptures; let them read
theological books which explain and prove the doctrines of the gospel; let them
commit to memory the admirable definitions of these doctrines contained in the
Assembly’s Shorter Catechism; let them attend upon the preaching of the word
with a view not only to be comforted—but to be instructed. The exclusive object
for which some people hear sermons, is to obtain a little comfort. They sit
waiting and watching for some sweet and savory assurance, some well known
hackneyed consolatory topic, some lively appeal to the experience—and until this
comes, they think lightly of everything else. The minister may have given the
clearest elucidation of some dark and doubtful passage, the most profound
discussion of some sublime doctrine, the most masterly defense of some disputed
truth—but to the mere ’comfort hunters’, all this is nothing else than the husk
or the shell, which is to be cracked and thrown away for the kernel of a little
Christian experience. From such sermons they go home, with hungry and cheerless
appetites, complaining that they have found it a lost opportunity.

Let me not be mistaken. Comfort ought to be sought for—but always through the
medium of knowledge. The best warmth is that which comes not from ardent
spirits—but from the sun, which sends his heat to the frame, in those beams
which convey light to the eye. The fact is, that some people’s religion is of
that weak, unhealthy kind, which is supported only by elixirs and cordials.

After all, I am constrained to confess, that the darkness which rests upon the
mind of the church member, is the result, in some cases, of that cloudiness
which envelopes the mind of the pastor; if there is ignorance in the pew, it is
because there is so little knowledge in the pulpit. When the preacher dwells on
nothing but a few hackneyed commonplace topics of an experimental or consolatory
nature; when all the varied and sublime parts of revealed truth are neglected
for one unceasing round of beaten subjects; when texts are selected which
require no study to understand, no ability to expound; when nothing is heard
from one Sabbath to another—but the same sentiments in the same words, until the
introduction of a new or original conception would startle the congregation
almost as much as the entrance of a spectre; who can wonder, if, under such
circumstances, the congregation should grow tired of their preacher; or if such
drowsy tinklings should lull the fold, until with their shepherd they sink to
the slumbers of indifference—amid the thickening gloom of Scriptural ignorance?

II. Advancement in religion is incumbent on every professing Christian. As the
usual mode of admission to our churches, subjects their members to a scrutiny of
their conduct, it is considered by many as a kind of ordeal, which being passed
with success, remits them from any solicitude about farther improvement. A kind
of indelible character is then impressed upon them, which is susceptible of
neither increase nor improvement. I do not mean to say that they come
deliberately to such a conclusion, or that they are aware of any such opinion
being in their mind—but having passed their trials with honor, they insensibly
acquire the idea, that now they are professed and acknowledged Christians, that
their religion is admitted to be genuine, that they are put among the disciples,
and therefore the same concern is no longer necessary. Often have we seen,
especially in the case of young people, that the act of joining the church, has
in some measure diminished the earnestness with which their minds were formerly
directed to the subject of religion. They were growing rapidly as babes in
Christ, until the consciousness of being a church member, and acknowledged a
Christian—either by generating pride, or relaxing diligence—has paralyzed their
piety, arrested their growth, and left them dwarfs in grace forever after!

We should consider that true religion is not an abstract thing of times, places,
and ceremonies; nor is the religious character formed by any single compliance,
however public or however solemn. If it were admitted that regeneration is an
instantaneous change, in which the whole character of a child of God is formed
at once, this will not apply to membership. Instead of considering our union
with the church as the goal of our religious career, where improvement may
cease, and progress be stopped—we should view it as but the very starting point
from whence we are to forget the things that are behind, and press towards the
mark for the prize of our high calling. From that moment, we are under more
solemn obligations than ever to grow in grace, inasmuch as the means of growth
are increased. Until then, we have been as trees growing in obscurity, without
the aid of human culture—but when we associate with a church, we are
transplanted into a garden, and have the advantage of the gardener’s care, and
should therefore abound more than ever, in all the fruits of righteousness which
are by Jesus Christ unto the glory of God.

III. Consistency in their conduct, as professing Christians, is a most obvious
and pressing obligation of church members. The lack of godly conduct of
professing Christians has done more harm to Christianity than all the ravings of
infidelity, from the time of Cain to the death of Paine. This sacred and
deathless ’cause of Christianity’ lifts her venerable form, bearing the scars of
many a wound, not inflicted by arrows plumed with the pen of Voltaire or Hume;
oh, no, such weapons bounded off her bosom, as from a shield of triple brass,
and dropped at her feet to be deposited with the spoils of her victories! But
the darts that lacerated her, and left the memorials of their mischief upon her
form, were the vices and follies of her votaries! O Christians! will you scourge
and lacerate her? will you array her in the costume of scorn, and, leading her
forth bleeding and dejected to meet her enemies in the gate, proclaim, "Behold,
an impostor!" Will you assist to raise the clamor which infidel philosophers
endeavored to excite, and stir up the multitude to exclaim, "Away with her, away
with her! Crucify her, crucify her!" Tremble at the thought. If Christianity
ever dies, it will not be in the field of conflict, by the power of her
enemies—but like Caesar in the capitol, by the hand of her friends! And which of
us would like to meet the look of her expiring eye, or the mild reproach of her
faltering tongue, "What!—you my son!" But she cannot die! Wounded she may be,
and has been—but the memorials of her injury are the proofs of her immortality,
and proclaim her to be of heavenly origin—like the fabled scars of the heathen
gods of Greece and Rome—her wounds demonstrably prove that a divinity sustained
her!

Still, however, the inconsistencies of professing Christians may limit her
reign, although they cannot destroy her existence. By these things sinners are
hardened in their courses, the access to life is rendered more difficult, while
the avenues of eternal death are made more wide and easy. That man, whose
conduct opposes his profession, may be certainly arraigned for the crime of
murder. Let him not go quietly to his pillow as if blood-guiltiness were not
upon his conscience; for it is there, and a voice is continually saying to him,
"Your brother’s blood cries to me from the ground!" He has not slain the body of
a fellow mortal—but has been accessory to the death of souls. Some who sought
for an apology for their sins, an opiate for their consciences—found it in his
misconduct!

I have no need to specify the duties included in the general idea of
consistency; these are known well enough. The apostle’s beautiful and
comprehensive admonition is a sufficient directory. "Whatever things are true,
whatever things are honest, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure,
whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report—if there be any
virtue, and if there be any praise—think on these things."

I particularly exhort church members to beware of what might be denominated the
minor breaches of consistency. We are not to conclude that nothing breaks the
uniformity of our character—but what subjects us to the discipline of the
church. Overt acts of immorality are comparatively rare, while ten thousand
instances of less delinquency, such as the church cannot take cognizance of, are
continually occurring in the conduct of Christians—to the disgrace of
Christianity and the injury of men’s souls! Those things are seen in us, which
would pass unnoticed in others who make no profession of religion; just as a
spot which would be lost on painted canvass, is visible on sheet of white paper.
A Christian’s character is like polished steel, which may have its luster
destroyed, not only by broad spots of rust—but by an assemblage of innumerable
’specks’!

More scandals have occurred in the Christian church from dishonorable financial
transactions than from any other source. Instances of drunkenness and debauchery
are seldom, compared with those of an artful, imposing, dishonest way of
conducting business. The world is a dangerous and successful foe to growth in
grace; and although every church member professes himself to be through faith a
conqueror, how many by their over-reaching, ungenerous conduct, prove that they
are yet enslaved by this sordid enemy. Some there are, who would betray their
Master for a less sum than that which Judas set upon his blood; and, for a tenth
of thirty pieces of silver, will be guilty of an action which they must know, at
the time, will provoke the severest invective and bitterest sarcasm against all
religion.

IV. Church members should excel in the manifestation of the Christian temper.

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." Christians should
excel in the manifestation of Christ’s character. The mind which was in Jesus,
should be in them. They should consider his character as a model of their own;
and be conspicuous for their poverty of spirit, meekness, gentleness, and love.
They should seek a large portion of the "wisdom which comes from above; which is
first pure, then peaceable, gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good
fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy."

It is matter of surprise and regret, that many people seem to think that
Christianity has nothing to do with the character; and that provided they are
free from gross sins, and have lively feelings in devotional exercises, they may
be as petulant, irritable, and implacable as they please! This is a dreadful
error, and has done great mischief to the cause of God. A sour, ill-natured
Christian, is like a lamb with a wolf’s head, a dove with a vulture’s beak, a
rose with leaves of nettles. If there be any one word which above all others
should describe a Christian’s character, it is that which represents his divine
Father; and as it is said, that God is love, so should it be also affirmed, that
a Christian is love—love embodied, an incarnation of love. His words, conduct,
no, his very looks, should be so many expressions of love.

V. Church members should be very eminent for a right discharge of all their
social duties. The apostles have given this great importance by the frequency
with which they have introduced it. (Ephesians 5:22, Ephesians 6:1-9. Colossians
3:18, 1 Timothy 6:1-4. 1 Peter 3:1-2. 1 Peter 2:18.) Christianity, so far from
loosening the bands of society, adds to them incredible strength and firmness,
by motives drawn from the eternal world. One part of the design of revelation is
to purify and strengthen the social principle, and carry it to its greatest
elevation and perfection. A good Christian, and yet a bad husband, father,
brother, neighbor, or citizen, is an anomaly which the world never yet beheld.
Professing Christians should excel all others in the beauties of social virtue.
True religion should give additional tenderness to the marital relationship;
greater love to the parent, and obedience to the child; fresh kindness to the
master, and diligence to the servant. The world should look to the church with
this conviction, "Well, if social virtue were driven from every other portion of
society, it would find an asylum, and be cherished with care, upon the heights
of Zion." Then will religion have attained its highest recognition upon earth,
when it shall be admitted by universal consent, that to say a man is a
Christian, is an indisputable testimony to his excellence in all the relations
he bears to society.

VI. There are duties to be discharged in reference to the world. By the world, I
mean all those who are destitute of true godliness—regardless of their religious
denomination. The apostle has summed up our obligations towards them under the
comprehensive injunction, "Walk in wisdom towards those who are outside." In
another place, we are commanded to "Let our light shine before men, that they
seeing our good works, may glorify our Father who is in heaven." We are also
exhorted "to have our life-style honest (this word signifies beautiful,
honorable) among the Gentiles." In order to comply with this, we must act
consistently with our profession; excel in the observance of social duties;
abound in mercy; bear a prudent testimony against evil practices; be most
punctiliously exact in fulfilling all our engagements, and performing all our
promises; live in a most peaceable and neighborly manner; perform every office
of kindness and charity which can please or benefit; and set an example of
industry, honesty, and generosity.

VII. We should as professing Christians be exemplary in our obedience to the
civil magistrate. The Scriptures which enjoin this duty are too numerous to be
quoted at length. (Romans 13:1-2. Acts 23:6. Titus 3:1. 1 Peter 2:13-14. 1
Timothy 2:1-3.) One only shall be given—but that is a very striking one. "Let
every soul be subject to the higher powers; for there is no power but of God;
the powers that be, are ordained of God. Whoever therefore resists the power,
resists the ordinance of God—and those who resist shall receive to themselves
damnation." This injunction must of course be understood as relating to matters
purely civil—or in other words to those laws which are not in opposition to the
spirit and letter of divine revelation. If rulers enjoin anything which is
condemned by the word of truth, it is the duty of a Christian, without
hesitation, and at all hazards, to act upon the principles, and follow the
example of the apostles, and "obey God rather than man."

God forbid I should teach a doctrine so pernicious, as that one of the first
efforts of true piety when it enters the soul is to extinguish the love of civil
liberty; or that having broken the fetters of vice, it immediately bows the
regenerated soul into submission to the yoke of despotism. No such thing! True
religion is a noble, and sublime, and elevating principle. It expands, not
contracts the mind. It is not a spirit of bondage which causes its possessor to
fear—but it is a spirit of power, and of a sound mind. It lifts the soul from
the dust, and does not chain it there; it has raised a noble army of martyrs,
every one of whose millions was a hero that defied the tyrant’s rage, and
spurned his yoke. Religion therefore is no friend of slavery, nor can any of its
precepts be quoted by the tyrant as an excuse for his trampling on the liberties
of mankind.

Avowing thus much, and admitting that the most spiritual Christian may take an
interest, and ought to take an interest, in public affairs; no, that he ought to
maintain a ceaseless jealousy over the constitution and freedom of his country;
still I contend that a constant, and noisy, and factious meddling in party
politics, is as injurious to his own personal religion, as it is to the interest
of piety in general. We do not cease to be citizens, when we become
Christians—but we are in danger of ceasing to be Christians, when we become
politicians. It is with politics as with money; it is not the temperate use—but
the immoderate love of it, that is the root of all evil. Thousands of professors
of religion have made shipwreck of their faith and a good conscience, during the
tempests of political agitation. Let us then, as we value our lives, be cautious
how we embark on this stormy and troubled ocean.

There is one way in which many Christians offend against the laws of their
country without scruple, and without remorse; I mean by endeavoring to evade the
payment of taxes. Had there been no Christian statute to condemn this practice,
the general principles of reason would be quite sufficient to prove its
criminality. But the New Testament has added the authority of revelation to the
dictates of reason; and thus made it a sin against God, no less than a crime
against society, to defraud the revenue. "Give everyone what you owe him: If you
owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if
honor, then honor" is the authoritative language of Paul. This precept derives
great force from the consideration that it was delivered at a time, and under a
government, in which the taxes were not imposed by the people themselves—but by
the arbitrary power of a despot. Certainly if, under these circumstances, it was
the duty of a Christian to pay the tribute money, any effort which we make to
evade it, must be additionally criminal, since we are taxed by the will of our
representatives. The excuses usually made in justification of this practice,
only serve to show how far even some good people may be imposed upon, by the
deceitfulness of the human heart. Every time we have made a false return on the
schedule which regulates our measure of taxation; or that we have purchased
knowingly a contraband article of food, beverage, or dress—we have committed a
fraud upon society, have assumed a power to dispense with the laws of our
country, have violated the precepts of the New Testament, have brought the guilt
of a complicated crime upon our conscience, and have subjected ourselves to the
displeasure of God, and the discipline of his church.


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  CHAPTER 30: 03.05.     DUTIES OF CHURCH MEMBERS TO EACH OTHER
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 DUTIES OF CHURCH MEMBERS TOWARDS
EACH OTHER

I. The first duty, and that which indeed seems to include every other, is LOVE.
The stress which is laid on this in the Word of God, both as it respects the
manner in which it is stated, and the frequency with which it is enjoined,
sufficiently proves its vast importance in the Christian character, and its
powerful influence on the communion of believers. It is enforced by our Lord as
the identifying law of his kingdom. "A new command I give you: Love one another.
As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know
that you are my disciples, if you love one another." John 13:34-35. "This is my
commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." John 15:12. By this
we learn that the subjects of Christ are to be known and distinguished among
men, by their mutual affection. This injunction is denominated the new
commandment of the Christian economy; not that love was no duty before the
coming of Christ—but it is now placed more prominently among the duties of
believers; is urged on fresh grounds, enforced by a more perfect example, and
constrained by stronger motives. The dispensation of Jesus Christ is a system of
most wonderful, most mysterious grace; it is the manifestation, commendation,
and perfection of divine love. It originated in the love of the Father, and is
accomplished by the love of the Son. Jesus Christ was an incarnation of love in
our world. Jesus was love living, breathing, speaking, acting, among men. His
birth was the nativity of love! His teachings were the words of love! His
miracles were the wonders of love! His tears were the meltings of love! His
crucifixion was the agonies of love! His resurrection was the triumph of love!
Hence it was natural, that love should be the cardinal virtue in the character
of his people, and that it should be the law which regulates their conduct
towards each other. And it is worthy of remark, that He has made his love to us,
not only the motive of our love to each other—but the pattern of our love to
each other. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved
you, John 15:17.

Let us for our instruction dwell upon the properties of the love of Jesus, that
we might know what should be the characteristics of our own. His love was real
and great affection, and not a mere nominal one—so let us love, not in word and
in tongue only—but also in deed and in truth. His love was free and unselfish,
without any regard to our deserts—so ours should be independent of any regard to
our own advantage. His love was fruitful unto tears, and agonies, and blood, and
death—so should ours in everything that can establish the comfort of each other.
His was a love of forbearance and forgiveness—so should ours be. His love was
purely a spiritual flame; not loving them as rational creatures merely—but as
objects of divine affection, and subjects of divine likeness. His love was
unchangeable notwithstanding our weaknesses and unkindnesses—thus are we bound
to love one another, and continue unalterable in our affection to each other, in
spite of all those little infirmities of character and conduct which we daily
discover in our fellow Christians. The Apostles echoed the language of their
Master, and continually enjoined the churches which they had planted, to love
one another, and to let brotherly love abound and increase. It is a grace so
important that, like holiness, no measure of it is sufficient to satisfy the
requirement of the Word of God. Love is the basis, and cement, and beauty of the
Christian union. The church where love is lacking, whatever may be the number or
gifts of its members—is nothing better than a heap of stones, which, however
polished, lack the coherence and similitude of a palace. In the best and purest
ages of the church, this virtue shone so brightly in the character of its
members, was so conspicuous in all their conduct, was expressed in actions so
replete with noble, unselfish, and heroic affection—as to become a proverb with
surrounding pagans, and call forth the well known exclamation, "See how these
Christians love one another!" A finer eulogium was never pronounced on the
Christian church; a more valuable tribute was never deposited on the altar of
Christianity. Alas! that it should so soon have ceased to be just, and that the
church, as it grew older, should have lost its loveliness by—losing its love.
But it will be necessary to point out the MANNER in which brotherly love,
wherever it exists, will operate.

1. Love to our brethren will lead us to a special DELIGHT in them, viewed as the
objects of divine love.

Delight is the very essence of love! And the ground of all proper delight which
Christians have for each other—is their relation and likeness to God. We should
feel peculiar delight in each other as fellow heirs of the grace of God;
partakers of like precious faith, and joint sharers of the common salvation. We
must be dear to each other as the objects of the Father’s mercy, of the Son’s
dying grace, and of the Spirit’s sanctifying influence. The love of Christians
is of a very sacred nature, and is quite peculiar. It is not the love of close
relatives, or friendship, or interest, or general esteem—but it is an affection
cherished for Christ’s sake! They may see many things in each other to admire,
such as an amiable temper, a servant’s heart, tender sympathy—but Christian love
does not rest on these things, although they may increase it—but on the ground
of a common relationship to Christ. On this account they are to take peculiar
delight in each other, as being one in Christ. "These," should a believer
exclaim, as he looks on the church, "are the objects of the Redeemer’s living
and dying love, whom he regards with delight; and out of affection to him, I
feel an inexpressible delight in them. I love to associate with them, to talk
with them, to look upon them—because they are Christ’s!"

2. Love to our brethren will lead us to BEAR ONE ANOTHER’S BURDENS, and so
fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2. When we see them oppressed with a
weight of anxious care, instead of carrying ourselves with cold indifference and
unfeeling distance towards them, we should cherish a tender solicitude to know
and relieve their difficulties. How touching would such a salutation as the
following be, from one Christian to another, "Brother, I have observed, with
considerable pain, that your countenance has been covered with gloom, as if you
were sinking under some inward solicitude. I would not be unpleasantly
intrusive, nor wish to obtrude myself upon your attention, farther than is
agreeable—but I offer you the expressions of Christian sympathy, and the
assistance of Christian counsel. Can I in any way assist to mitigate your care,
and restore your tranquility?" At such sounds, the crushed heart would feel as
if half its load were gone. It may be, the kind inquirer could yield no
effectual relief—but there is balm in the mere expression of his sympathy. The
indifference of some professing Christians to the burdens of their brethren is
shocking; they would see them crushed to the very earth with cares and sorrows,
and never make one kind inquiry into their situation, nor lend a helping hand to
lift them from the dust. Love requires that we should take the deepest interest
in each other’s concerns, that we should patiently listen to the tale of woe
which a brother brings us, that we should mingle our tears with his, that we
should offer him our advice, that we should suggest to him the consolations of
the gospel. In short, we should let him see that his troubles reach not only our
ear—but our heart. SYMPATHY is one of the finest, the most natural, the most
easy expressions of love.

3. Love requires that we should VISIT our brethren in their affliction.

"I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came unto me—for as much
as you did it unto the least of these my brethren, you did it unto me!" Such is
the language of Jesus to his people, by which he teaches us how important and
incumbent a duty it is for church members to visit each other in their
afflictions. Probably there is no duty more neglected than this. Christians
often lie on beds of sickness for weeks and months successively, without seeing
a fellow member cross the threshold of their chamber door. How often have I been
shocked, when upon inquiring of the sufferer whether any fellow Christians
residing in their neighborhood had been to visit them, it had been said in
reply, "Oh! no, sir, I have now been stretched on this bed for days and weeks.
My pain and weakness have been so great, that I have scarcely been able to
collect my thoughts for meditation and prayer. The sight of a dear Christian
friend would indeed have relieved the dull monotony of this gloomy scene, and
the voice of piety would have been as music to blunt my sense of pain, and lull
my troubled heart to some repose—but such a sight and such a sound have been
denied me. No friend has been near me, and it has aggravated sorrows, already
heavy, to be thus neglected and forgotten by a church, which I joined with the
hope of finding among them the comfort of sympathy. But alas! alas! I find them
too much occupied with the seen and temporal things, to think of a suffering
brother, to whom wearisome nights and months of vanity are appointed!"

How could I help exclaiming, "O, Christian love, bright image of the Savior’s
heart! where have you fled, that you so rarely visit the church on earth, to
shed your influence, and manifest your beauties there?" There have been ages of
Christianity—so historians inform us—in which brotherly love prevailed among
Christians to such a degree, that, fearless of the infection diffused by the
most malignant and contagious diseases, they have ventured to the bedside of
their brethren expiring in the last stages of the plague, to administer the
consolations of a immortal hope. This was love; love stronger than death, and
which many waters could not quench. It was no doubt imprudent—but it was heroic,
and circulated far and wide the praises of that dear name which was the secret
of the wonder.

How many are there, now bearing the Christian name, who scarcely ever yet paid
one visit to the bed side of a suffering brother! Shame and disgrace upon such
professors!! Let them not expect to hear the Savior say, "I was sick and you
visited me." That this branch of Christian love may be performed with greater
diligence, it would be a good plan for the pastor, at every church meeting, to
mention the names of the afflicted members, and stir up the brethren to visit
them. It would be particularly desirable for Christians to go to the scene of
suffering on a Sabbath day, and read the Bible and sermons to the afflicted, at
that time, as they are then peculiarly apt to feel their sorrows, in consequence
of being cut off from the enjoyments of public worship.

4. "PRAY one for another." James 5:16. Not only with—but for one another. A
Christian should take the interests of his brethren into the closet. Private
devotion is not to be selfish devotion. It would much increase our affection for
others, did we devote more of our private prayers to each other’s welfare.

5. FINANCIAL RELIEF should be administered to those who need it.

"Distributing to the necessities of the saints," Romans 12:13, is mentioned
among the incumbent duties of professing Christians. How just, how forcible is
the interrogation of the Apostle, "If anyone has material possessions and sees
his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him?"
1 John 3:17. Nothing can be more absurd than those pretensions to love, which
are not supported by exertions to relieve the needs of the object beloved. It is
a very peculiar affection—which is destitute of showing mercy to the object of
affection. So powerfully did this holy passion operate in the first ages of the
church, that many rich Christians sold their estates, and shared their affluence
with the poor. What rendered this act the more remarkable is, that it was purely
voluntary. It is not our duty any more than it was theirs, to go this length;
still, however, it is evident both from general principles as well as from
particular precepts, that we are under obligation to make some provision for the
comfort of the poor and needy. This duty must be left in the statement of
general terms, as it is impossible to define its precise limits. It does not
appear to me to be at all incumbent to make regular periodical distributions to
the poor, whether in circumstances of distress or not. Some churches have a
registered list of pensioners, who come as regularly for their pay, as if they
were hired servants. If they are old, infirm, of unprovided for, this is very
well—but for those to receive support, who are getting a comfortable subsistence
by their labor, is an abuse of the charity of the church. The money collected at
the Lord’s supper, should be reserved for times of sickness and peculiar
necessity.

It should be recollected, also, that public contributions do not release the
members from the exercise of private liberality. The shilling a month which is
given at the sacrament, seems, in the opinion of many, to discharge them from
all further obligation to provide for the comfort of their poorer brethren, and
to be a sort of excuse for the further exercise of charity to others in need.
This is a great mistake; it ought rather to be considered as a mere pledge of
all that more effective and abundant liberality which they should exercise in
secret. Every Christian who is indulged with a considerable share of the
bounties of Providence ought to consider the poorer members of the church, who
may happen to live in his neighborhood, as the objects of his peculiar care,
interest, and relief.

6. PATIENCE is a great part of love.

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love."
Ephesians 4:2. In a Christian church, especially where it is of considerable
magnitude, we must expect to find a very great diversity of character. There are
all the gradations of intellect, and all the varieties of disposition and
temperament. In such cases, great patience is absolutely essential to the
preservation of harmony and peace. The strong must bear with the infirmities of
the weak. Christians of great attainments in knowledge should not in their
hearts despise, nor in their conduct ridicule, the feeble conceptions of those
who are babes in Christ—but most meekly correct their errors, and most kindly
instruct their ignorance. This is love. In very many people there will unhappily
be found some things, which, although they by no means affect the reality and
sincerity of their piety, considerably diminish its luster, and have a tendency,
without the caution of love, to disturb our communion with them. Some have a
forward and obtrusive manner; others are talkative; others indulge a
complaining, whining, begging disposition; others are abrupt, almost to
rudeness, in their address. These, and many more, are the spots of God’s
children—with which we are sometimes so much displeased, as to feel an
alienation of heart from the subjects of them, although we have no doubt of
their real piety. Now here is room for the exercise of love. These are the cases
in which we are to employ that love which covers all things. Are we to love only
amiable Christians? Perhaps, after all, in the substantial parts of religion,
these rough characters far excel others, whom courtesy and amiableness have
carried to the highest degree of polish. I do not say we are to love these
individuals for their peculiarities and infirmities—but in spite of them. Not on
their own account—but for Christ’s sake, to whom they belong. And what can be a
greater proof of our affection for him, than to love an unlovely individual, on
Christ’s account?

If you had the picture of a valued friend, would you withdraw from it your
affection, and throw it away, because there was a spot upon the canvass, which
in some degree disfigured the painting? No you would say, it is a likeness of my
friend still, and I love it, notwithstanding its imperfection. The believer is a
picture of your best Friend—and will you discard him, neglect him, because there
is a speck upon the painting?

7. Love should induce us to WATCH over one another.

Am I my brother’s keeper? was an inquiry suitable enough in the lips of a
murderer—but most unsuitable and inconsistent from a Christian. We are brought
into fellowship for the very purpose of being keepers of each other. We are to
watch over our brethren—and admonish and reprove them as circumstances may
require. I do not mean that church members should pry into each other’s secrets,
or be busy bodies in other men’s matters—for that is forbidden by God and
abominable in the sight of man. 1 Thessalonians 3:11, 1 Peter 4:15. Much less
are they to assume authority over each other, and act the part of proud and
tyrannical inquisitors. But still we are to "exhort one another daily, lest any
be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin." We are not to allow sin to be
committed, or duty to be omitted by a brother, without affectionately
admonishing him. What can be more incumbent, more obligatory, than this? Can we
indeed love anyone, and at the same time see him do that which we know will
injure him—without entreating him to desist? "Brethren, if any man is overtaken
in a fault, you which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of
meekness." Galatians 6:1.

Let us then take heed against that Cain-like spirit which is too prevalent in
our churches, and which leads many to act as if their fellow-members were no
more to them than the stranger at the ends of the earth. Striking are the words
of God to the Jews, "Do not hate your brother in your heart. Rebuke your
neighbor frankly so you will not share in his guilt." Leviticus 19:17. Not to
rebuke him, then, when he sins, is, instead of loving him—to hate him. This
neglect is what the apostle means by being partakers of other men’s sins. The
admonition to "warn the unruly," 1 Thessalonians 5:14. was delivered not merely
to ministers—but to private Christians.

I know no duty more neglected than this. It is one of the most prevailing
defects of Christians. Many a backslider would have been prevented from going
far astray, if, in the very first stages of his declension, some brother, who
had observed his critical state, had faithfully and affectionately warned and
admonished him. What shame, and anguish, and disgrace, would the offender
himself have been spared, and what dishonor and scandal would have been averted
from the church—by this one act of faithful love!

I am aware it is a difficult and self-denying duty—but that cannot excuse its
neglect. Love will enable us to perform it—and the neglect of it violates the
law of Christ.

II. Christians should cultivate PEACE and HARMONY one with another.

"Keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." Ephesians 4:3. "Be of one
mind, live in peace." 2 Corinthians 3:11. "Follow after the things which make
for peace." Romans 14:19. It is quite needless to expatiate on the value and
importance of peace. What society can exist without it? I shall therefore
proceed to state what things are necessary for the attainment of this end.

1. Christians should be SUBJECT one to another in humility. "Likewise, you
younger men, submit yourselves unto those who are older. Yes, all of you, be
subject one to another, and be clothed with humility." 1 Peter 5:5. Now from
hence we learn, that some kind of mutual subjection ought to be established in
every Christian church. This of course does not mean, that some members are to
make an entire surrender of their opinions and feelings to others, so far as
never to oppose them, and always to be guided by others. It is not the
subjection of an inferior to a superior—but of equals to one another; not that
which is extorted by authority—but voluntarily conceded by affection; not
yielded as matter of right—but given for the sake of peace—in short, it is the
mutual subjection of love and humility.

YOUNG and inexperienced people ought to be subject to the aged; for what can be
more indecorous than to see a stripling standing up at a church meeting, and,
with confidence and flippancy, opposing his views to those of a godly disciple,
old enough to be his grandfather? Youth loses its loveliness when it loses its
humility. They should hearken with deference and most reverential attention to
the opinion of the aged. Nor does the obligation rest here; it extends to those
who are equal in age and rank. Church members should be subject to each other;
they should not be determined at all events to have their own way—but should go
as far as biblical principle would let them, in giving up their own views and
personal biases, to the rest of the group. Everyone should hearken with
respectful attention to the opinions of others, and be willing to sacrifice his
own personal opinion. The ’contention’ ought not to be for rule—but for
subjection. Instead of haughtily exclaiming, "I have as much right to have my
way as any one else!" we should say, "I have an opinion, and will mildly and
respectfully state it; yet I will not force it upon the church—but give way to
the superior wisdom of others, if I am opposed." There should be in every member
a supposition that others may see as clearly, probably more so—than himself. The
democratic principle in our system of church government must not be stretched
too far. The idea of equal rights is soon abused, and converted into the means
of turbulence and faction. Liberty, unity, and equality, are words which, both
in church and state, have often become the signals, in the mouths of some, for
the lawless invasion of the rights of others. It has been strangely forgotten,
that no man in social life has a right to please only himself; his will is, or
ought to be, the good of the whole. And that individual violates at once the
social compact, whether in ecclesiastical or civil society, who pertinaciously
and selfishly exclaims, "I will have my way!" Such a declaration constitutes him
a rebel against the community. Yet, alas! how much of this rebellion is to be
found not only in the world—but in the church! And what havoc and desolation has
it occasioned! Unfortunately for the peace of our churches, it is sometimes
disguised, by the deceitfulness of the human heart—under the cloak of zeal for
the general good. Church members should enter into these sentiments, and thus
comply with the apostolic admonitions, "Let nothing be done through strife or
vain-glory—but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than
themselves." Php 2:3. "Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one
another above yourselves." Romans 12:10.

2. To the preservation of peace, a right treatment of OFFENCES is essentially
necessary.

We should ever be cautious not to GIVE offence. Some people are crude, dogmatic,
or imprudent; they never consult the feelings of those around them, and are
equally careless whom they please—and whom they offend. They say and do just
what their feelings prompt, without the least regard to the consequences of
their words and actions. They act like an individual who, because it pleases
him, discharges a loaded musket in a crowded street, where some are almost sure
to be wounded. This is not that love which is kind, courteous, and civil. A
Christian should be ever afraid of giving offence; he should be anxious not to
injure the ’wing of an insect’, much more the ’mind of a brother’! The peace of
his brethren should even be more sacred than his own. It should be his fixed
determination, if possible, to never be the occasion a moment’s pain in another.
For this purpose he should be kind, and mild, and courteous in all his language,
weighing the import of words before he utters them, and calculating the
consequence of actions before he performs them. He should remember that he is
moving in a crowd, and be careful not to trample on, or jostle his neighbors.

We should all be backward to RECEIVE offence. Quarrels often begin for lack of
the caution I have just stated—and are then continued because people are too
quick to take offence. An observance of these two principles would keep the
world in peace. There are some people whose passions are like cotton—kindled
into a blaze in a moment by the least spark which has been purposely or
accidentally thrown upon it. A word, or a look—is in some cases quite enough to
be considered a very serious injury! It is no uncommon thing for such people to
excuse themselves on the ground that their ’feelings are so delicate’—that they
are offended by the least touch. This is a humiliating confession, for it is
acknowledging that, instead of being like the cedar of Lebanon, or the oak of
the forest, which laughs at the tempest, and is unmoved by the boar of the
wood—they resemble the sensitive plant, a little squeamish shrub, which trembles
before the breeze, and shrivels and contracts beneath the pressure of an insect!
Delicate feelings!! In plain English, this means that they are petulant,
irritable and peevish! Delicate feelings!! In plain English, this means that
they are petulant, irritable and peevish! I would like to have a sign hung
around the neck of such people--and it would be this, "Beware of the dog!"

We should never allow ourselves to be offended, until, at least, we are sure
that offence was intended; and this is really not so often as we are apt to
conclude. Had we but patience to wait, or humility to inquire, we would find
that many hurtful things were done by mistake, which we are prone to attribute
to design. How often do we violate that love which thinks no evil, and which
imperatively demands of us to attribute a good motive to another’s conduct—until
a bad motive is proved! Let us then deliberately determine, that, by God’s
grace, we will not be easily offended. If such a resolution were generally made
and kept, offences would cease. Let us first ascertain whether offence was
intended, before we allow the least emotion of anger to be indulged; and even
then, when we have proved that the offence was committed on purpose, let us next
ask ourselves whether it is necessary to notice it. What wise man will think it
worth while, when an insect has stung him, to pursue and punish the aggressor?
When we have received an injury which is too serious to be passed over
unnoticed, and requires explanation in order to our future pleasant communion
with the individual who inflicts it, we should neither brood over it in silence,
nor communicate it to a third person—but go directly to the offender himself,
and state to him in private, our views of his conduct. This is most clearly
enjoined by our divine Lord, "If your brother sins against you, go and show him
his fault, just between the two of you. If he listens to you, you have won your
brother over." Matthew 18:15.

Many people lock up the injury in their own bosom; and instead of going to their
offending brother—dwell upon his conduct in silence, until their imagination has
added to it every possible aggravation, and their minds have come to the
conclusion to separate themselves forever from his society. From that hour, they
neither speak to him, nor think well of him—but consider and treat him as an
alien from their hearts. This is not godliness. Our duty is to go, and to go as
speedily as possible, to the offender. The longer we delay, the more serious
will the offence appear in our eyes, and the more difficult will it be to
persuade ourselves to obtain the interview.

Others, when they have received an offence, set off to some friend, perhaps to
more than one, to lodge their complaint, and tell how they have been treated.
The report of the injury spreads farther and wider, exaggerated and swelled by
those circumstances, which every gossip through whose hands it passes, chooses
to add to the original account, until, in process of time, it comes round to the
offender himself, in its magnified and distorted form, who now finds that he, in
his turn, is aggrieved and calumniated! And thus a difficult and complicated
case of offence, grows out of what was at first very simple in its nature—and
capable of being adjusted. We ought to go at once to the party offending us,
before a syllable has passed our lips on the subject to a third person! We
should also close our ears against the complaints of any individual, who would
inform us of the fault of a brother, before he has told the offender himself!

Sometimes, when people have received a supposed offence, they will endeavor to
gain information from others in a circuitous and clandestine manner, in order,
as they think, to conduct the affair with prudence. This is crooked policy, and
rarely succeeds. It is next to impossible to creep with a step so soft, and to
speak with a voice so muffled, as to escape detection. And if he starts to
ferret into holes and corners for evidence, it will be sure to excite
indignation and disgust. No! the offended party should go to to the supposed
offender at once—and alone! This is the command of Scripture, and it is approved
by reason, Matthew 18:15-17. This single admonition is worth all the volumes
that philosophy ever wrote, and ought to be inscribed in letters of gold. It
cannot be too often repeated, nor can too much stress be laid upon it.

People, whose ears are ever open to catch slanders and gossip, should be avoided
as the plague; they are the mischief-makers and quarrel-mongers, and are the
pests of our churches!

Great caution, however, should be observed as to the spirit in which we go to
the offending brother. All the meekness and gentleness of Christ should be in
our hearts and manner. We should dip our very tongue in the fountain of love!
Every feeling of anger, every look of anger, every tone of anger—should be
suppressed. We should not at once accuse our brother of the injury, for the
report may be false—but humbly ask him if it the report is correct. All attempts
to extort confession by threatenings should be avoided; and instead of these,
nothing should be employed but the appeals of wisdom—and the gentle persuasions
of love. If we succeed in this private interview to gain our brother so far as
to produce a little relenting, we ought to cherish, by the kindest expressions,
these beginnings of repentance, and to avoid all demands of unnecessary
concession—all haughty demeanor of conscious superiority—all insulting methods
of dispensing pardon. "Brother," we should say, "my aim was not to degrade
you—but to convince you; and since you see and acknowledge your fault, I am
satisfied, and shall forgive and forget it from this moment!"

If the offender should refuse to acknowledge his fault, and it should be
necessary for us to take a witness or two—which is our next step in settling a
disagreement—we must be very careful to select men of great discretion and
calmness; men who will not be likely to inflame, instead of healing the wound;
men who will act as mediators, not as partisans.

It is absolutely necessary, in order to offences being removed, that the
offender, upon his being convicted of an injury, should make all suitable
concession; and it will generally be found, that in long continued and
complicated strifes, this obligation becomes mutual. Whoever is the ORIGINAL
aggressor a feud seldom continues long, before both parties are to blame. Even
the aggrieved individual has something to concede; and the way to induce the
other to acknowledge his greater offence, is for him to confess his lesser one.
It is the mark of a noble and godly mind to confess an error, and solicit its
forgiveness. "Confess your faults one to another," is an inspired injunction.
The man who is too proud to acknowledge his fault, when his conduct demands it,
has violated his duty, and is a fit subject for censure. There are some people,
so far forgetful of their obligations to Christ and to their brethren, as not
only to refuse to make concession—but even to give excuses for their sinful
behavior. Their proud spirits disdain even to afford the least satisfaction in
the way of throwing light upon a supposed offence. This is most criminal, and is
such a defiance of the authority of the Lord Jesus, as ought to bring the
individual before the discipline of the church.

We should be very cautious not to exact unreasonable concession. A revengeful
spirit is often as effectually gratified by imposing hard and humiliating terms
of reconciliation, as it possibly could be by making the severest retaliation.
No offender is so severely punished, as he who is obliged to degrade himself in
order to obtain a pardon. And as all revenge is unlawful, we should be extremely
careful not to gratify it at the very time and by the manner in which we are
dispensing pardon. To convince a brother, not to degrade him, is the object we
are to seek; and especially should we endeavor to show him, that his offence is
more against Christ than against ourselves. When suitable acknowledgments are
made, the act of forgiveness is no longer optional with us. From that moment
every spark of anger, every feeling of a revengeful nature, is to be quenched.
"Let not the sun go down upon your anger, neither give place to the devil."
Ephesians 4:26-27. If we allow sleep to visit our eyes before we have forgiven
an offending, but penitent brother—we are committing a greater offence against
Christ, than our brother has committed against us! The man that takes a
revengeful temper to his pillow, is inviting Satan to be his guest! Such a man
would probably tremble at the thought of taking a harlot to his bed—but is it no
crime to sleep in the embrace of a fiend—himself! The word revenge should be
blotted from the Christian’s vocabulary by the tears which he sheds for his own
offences. How can an merciless Christian repeat that petition of our Lord’s
prayer, "Forgive me my trespasses—as I forgive those who trespass against me?"
Does he forget that if he uses such language while he is living in a state of
resentment against a brother, he is praying for perdition?—for how does he
forgive them that trespass against him? By revenge!

How strong is the language of Paul! "And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God,
with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness,
rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind
and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God
forgave you!" Ephesians 4:30-32. What motives to a forgiving spirit!! Can that
man have ever tasted the sweets of pardoning mercy—who refuses to forgive an
erring brother? Go, Christian professor, go first to the law, and learn your
twenty thousand sins! Go in imagination to the brink of the bottomless pit, and
as you hearken to the howlings of the damned, remember that those howlings might
have been your! Then go to the cross, and while you look on the bleeding victim
who is nailed to it, hearken to the accents of mercy which breathe like soft
music in your ear, "Go in peace, your sins are all forgiven you!" What, will
you, can you return from such scenes, with purposes of revenge? No! Impossible!
An implacable, merciless Christian is a contradiction in terms. "Bigots there
may be, and have been, of all denominations—but an implacable, irreconcilable,
unforgiving Christian—is of the same figure of speech—as a godly adulterer, a
religious drunkard, a devout murderer!" (Grosvenor’s most touching sermon on the
"Temper of Jesus")

"The last step in reclaiming an offender, is to bring him before the assembled
church. "But if he will not listen, take one or two others along, so that every
matter may be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses. If he
refuses to listen to them, tell it to the church; and if he refuses to listen
even to the church, treat him as you would a pagan or a tax collector." Matthew
18:16-17. Every effort that ingenuity can invent, affection prompt, or patience
can conduct—ought to be made, before it be brought to be investigated by the
brethren at large. If every trivial disagreement is laid before the church, it
will soon become a court of common pleas, and have all its time consumed in
adjusting matters of which it ought never to have heard. Before a public inquiry
takes place, the pastor should be made acquainted with the matter; who, if he
possess the confidence and affection of his people, will have sufficient
influence, at least in all ordinary cases, to terminate the difference in an
amicable manner. It is best to settle it even without his interference, if
possible—but it is better to consult him in every case, before the affair is
submitted to the last tribunal. An offence ought never to be considered as
removed, until love is restored. We should never rest until such an explanation
has been given and received, as will enable us to return to harmony and
confidence. A mere cessation of actual hostilities may do for the communion of
the world—but not for the fellowship of the saints. There is no actual strife
between the tenants of the sepulcher—but the cold and gloomy stillness of a
church-yard is an inappropriate emblem of the peace of a Christian church. In
such a community, we expect, that not only will the discords and sounds of
enmity be hushed—but the sweet harmonies of love be heard; not only that the
conflict of rage will terminate—but be succeeded by the activity of genuine
affection. When once an offence has been removed, it should never be adverted to
in future. Its very remembrance should, if possible, be washed from the memory
by the waters of forgetfulness. Other causes of disagreement may exist, and
fresh feuds arise—but the old one is dead and buried, and its angry spirit
should never be evoked to add fury to the passion of its successor. Nor should
we, when in our turn we are convicted of an error, shelter ourselves from
reproof, by reminding our reprover, that he was once guilty of a similar
offence. This is mean, dishonorable, unchristian, and mischievous.

Every Christian should bear reproof with meekness. Few know how to give reproof
with propriety, still fewer how to receive reproof. "Let the righteous smite me,
it shall be a kindness; and let him reprove me, it shall be as excellent oil,
which shall not break my head." How small is the number who can adopt this
language in sincerity! What wounded pride, what mortification and resentment are
felt by many when their faults are told to them. When we have so far sinned as
to deserve rebuke, we ought to have humility enough to bear it with meekness;
and should it be delivered in greater weight, or with less affection than we
think is proper—a penitential remembrance of our offence should prevent all
feelings of irritation or resentment. The scripture is very severe in its
language to those who turn with neglect, anger or disgust from the admonitions
of their brethren. "He who despises reproof, sins." Proverbs 10:17. "He who
hates reproof is brutish." Proverbs 12:1. "He who is often reproved, and yet
hardens his neck, shall be suddenly destroyed, and that without remedy."
Proverbs 29:1. Such people are guilty of great pride, great neglect of the word
of God, and great contempt of one of the ordinances of Heaven—and thus injure
their souls by that which was given to benefit them. Do not then act so wickedly
as to turn with indignation from a brother that comes in the spirit of meekness
to admonish and reprove you. Rather thank him for his fidelity, and profit by
his kindness. I know not a more decisive mark of true and strong piety—than a
willingness to receive reproof with meekness, and to profit by admonition, come
from whom it might.

3. If the peace of the church be preserved, the members must watch against and
repress A TATTLING DISPOSITION.

There are few circumstances which tend more to disturb the harmony and repose of
our societies, than a proneness, in some of their members, to a gossiping,
tattling disposition. There are people so deeply infected with the Athenian
passion to hear or tell some new thing, that their ears or lips are always open.
With insatiable appetite they devour all the news and rumors they can by any
means collect, and are never easy until it is all disgorged again, to the
unspeakable annoyance and disgust of others around them. It is one of the
mysteries of God’s natural government, that such should gain a sort of
advantageous consequence by the mischief they occasion, and be thus sheltered
from scorn, by being regarded with dread. The tattler is of this description—I
mean the individual who loves to talk of other men’s matters, and especially of
their faults; for it will be found, that by a singular perversity of
disposition, those who love to talk about the circumstances of others, rarely
ever select their excellences as matter of discourse—but almost always fix upon
their failings; and thus, to borrow a simile of Solomon’s, they resemble the fly
which neglects the healthful part of the frame to feast and luxuriate on the
loathsome sore. In the case of tattling there are generally three parties to
blame; there is first the tattler, then the person who is weak enough to listen
to the tales; and lastly, the individual who is the subject of the gossip, who
allows his mind to be irritated, instead of going, in the spirit of meekness, to
require an explanation from the original reporter.

Now let it be a rule with every church member, to avoid speaking of the personal
circumstances, and especially of the faults of others. Let this rule have the
sanctity of the laws of Heaven, and the immutability of those of the Medes and
Persians. Let every individual resolve with himself thus, "I will be slow to
speak of others. I will neither originate a report by saying what I think, nor
help to circulate a report by repeating what I hear." This is a most wise
regulation, which would at once preserve our own peace and the peace of society.
We should beware of saying anything, which, by the perverted ingenuity of a
slanderous disposition, may become the basis of a tale to the disadvantage of
another. It is not enough, as I have hinted, that we do not originate a
report—but we ought not to circulate it. When it reaches us, there it should
stop, and go no farther. We should give it to prudence, to be buried in silence.
We must never appear pleased with the tales of gossips and newsmongers, much
less with the scandals of the backbiter—our smile is their reward. If there were
no listeners, there would be no tattlers. In company, let us always discourage
and repress such conversation. Talkers know where to find a market for their
stuff; and like poachers and smugglers, who never carry their contraband
articles to the house of an tax-man, they never offer their reports to an
individual who, they know, would reprove them in the name of Jesus.

Let us avoid and discourage the hollow, deceitful practice of indulging a
tattling disposition, under the cover of lamenting over the faults of our
brethren.

Many who would be afraid or ashamed to mention the faults of a brother in the
way of direct gossip, easily find, or attempt to find, a disguise for their
’backbiting disposition’ in affected lamentations. "What a pity it is," they
exclaim, "that brother B. should have behaved so badly. Poor man, I am so sorry
for him. The petulance of his temper is exceedingly to be regretted. He much
dishonors the church." "And then," replies a second, "how sorry I am to hear
this report of sister C.! How the world will talk, and the cause of Christ
suffer, by such unwarrantable things in the conduct of a professor! It will not
be a secret long, or I would not mention it." "Oh," says a third, "I have heard
whispers of the same kind in times past. I have long suspected it, and mentioned
my fears some months ago to a friend or two. I thought she was not the person
she ’appeared’ to be. I am very sorry for her, and for the cause of Christ. I
have long had my suspicions, and now they are all confirmed. I shall tell the
friends to whom I expressed my fears, what I have now heard." In this way is a
tattling disposition indulged in the circles of even good people, under the
guise of lamentation for the sins of others.

"Odious and disgusting cant!" would a noble and honorable Christian exclaim,
with hallowed indignation, "which of you, if you really lamented the fact, would
report it? Which of you has gone to the erring individual, inquired into the
truth of the matter, and, finding it true, has mildly expostulated? Let your
lamentations be poured out before God and the offender—but to none else."

Others, again, indulge this disposition by running about to inquire into the
truth of a report, which they say has reached them, respecting a brother. "Have
you heard anything of brother H. lately?" they ask, with a significant look.
"No," replies the person. "Then I suppose it is not true." "Why, what have you
heard? Nothing, I hope, affecting his moral character." "Nothing very
substantiated—but I hope it is false." The tattler cannot go, however, without
letting out the secret, and then sets off to inquire of another and another.
Mischief making creature! Why had he not gone, as was his obvious duty, to the
individual who was the subject of the report, and inquired of him the truth of
it? Yes—but then the story would have been abolished at once, and the pleasure
of telling it would have been ended.

There are cases in which a modest disclosure of the failings of others is
necessary. Such, for example, as when a church is likely to be deceived in the
character of an individual, whom it is about to admit to communion. In such
instances, the person who is aware of the imposition that is likely to be
practiced, should go directly to the pastor, and make him acquainted with the
fact; instead of which, some people whisper their suspicions to any and to
many—except the pastor. It is perfectly lawful also to prevent any brother from
being betrayed into a ruinous confidence in financial matters, by informing him
of the character of the individual by whom he is about to be deceived. Silence,
in such cases, would be an obvious injury. BE SLOW TO SPEAK, then, is a maxim
which every Christian should always keep before his eyes. Silent people can do
no harm—but talkers are always dangerous!

III. Besides these things, there are duties which Christians owe to the church
in its COLLECTIVE capacity.

1. They are bound to take a deep interest in its concerns, and to seek its
prosperity by all lawful means. Everyone should feel that he has a personal
share in the welfare of the society. He should consider that, having selected
that particular community with which he is associated, as his religious home, he
is under a solemn obligation to promote, by every proper effort, its real
interest. He is to be indifferent to nothing which at any time affects its
prosperity. Some members, from the moment they have joined a Christian church,
take no concern in any of its affairs. They scarcely ever attend a church
meeting; they know neither who are excluded, nor who are received. If members
are added, they express no delight; if none are admitted, they feel no grief.
They fill up their places at the table of the Lord, and in the house of God; and
beyond this, seem to have nothing else to do with the church. This is a most
criminal apathy! A Christian ought to be as tremblingly alive to the welfare of
the church to which he is united—as he is to the success of his worldly affairs.

2. They are bound to attend all the meetings of the church, at least so far as
their circumstances will allow. They had better be absent from sermons and
prayer-meetings, than from these. How can they know the state of the church, if
they are not present when its affairs are exhibited and arranged? or how can
they exercise that proper confidence in the piety of the brethren, which is
essential to fellowship, if they are absent at the time of their admission?

3. They should most conscientiously devote their gifts, graces and abilities to
the service of the church, in an orderly and modest way; neither obtruding their
assistance when it is not required, nor withholding it when it is solicited.
Those who have gifts of prayer, should not be backward to exercise them for the
edification of their brethren. Those who have penetration and sound judgment,
should render their counsel and advice upon every occasion. People of large and
respectable temporal means may often use their influence with great benefit to
the temporal affairs of the church. And there is one line of charitable
exertion, which would be peculiarly beneficial, and which has been too much
neglected in all our societies; I mean the practice of respectable members
reading the Scriptures, religious tracts, and sermons—in the habitations of the
poor. I am aware that this is an age when many run to and fro, and when lay
preaching is carried to a very improper and mischievous extent. Some who have no
other qualification for preaching than boldness and ignorance, are every Sabbath
employed, of whom it might be said, that, it is a pity they have not the gift of
silence. Unfortunately, those who are most qualified, are frequently least
disposed; while the least qualified, are frequently the most zealous. But how
many wise, judicious, holy men, are there in our churches, who would be most
honorably and most usefully employed, in reading the words of life, and short
evangelical sermons, in the cottages of the poor! Let a convenient house be
selected, and the neighbors invited to attend—and who can tell what vast benefit
would accrue from such a scheme? By the blessing of God upon these efforts,
reformation would be wrought in the lower classes; religion would gain an
entrance where it could be introduced by no other means, and our churches be
replenished with holy, consistent members. People of respectable circumstances
in life, especially, should thus employ themselves, as their situation gives
them greater influence. Females may be thus engaged, without transgressing
either against the injunction of the apostle, or the modesty which is so
becoming their sex. I am astonished that means of usefulness so simple, so easy,
and so efficient, are not more generally employed.

4. It is due to the authority of the church, that every member should cordially
submit to its discipline. Without this, order would be destroyed, and the reign
of anarchy introduced. This, indeed, as we have already considered, is
essentially implied in the very act of joining the church—and no one ought to
think of such an act of union, who is not determined to submit to its rules and
its decisions.


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  CHAPTER 31: 03.06.     DUTIES OF CHURCH MEMBERS TO OTHER CHRISTIA
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 THE DUTIES OF CHURCH MEMBERS TO
THE MEMBERS OF OTHER CHRISTIAN CHURCHES First. In those cases where the churches
are of a DIFFERENT DENOMINATION.

1. We should respect their religious opinions and practices.

They act conscientiously; and whatever is done at the dictate of conscience, is
too sacred to be made the matter of ridicule. The way to bring the scorn of
ungodly men upon all religion, is for religious people, differing upon minor
points, to jest about each other’s practices.

2. Let us avoid religious bigotry and prejudice. By bigotry, I mean such an
arrogant attachment to our opinions and denomination, as alienates our
affections from Christians of another name, and leads us to conclude there is
little excellence or piety, except in our own communion. Some Christians are so
shortsighted by prejudice, that they cannot discern the most splendid
exhibitions of moral excellence, if they are at the least removed from their own
denomination. The consideration, that a man is not of their party, is
sufficient, in their evil eye—to dim the luster of an example which angels
admire, and to eclipse that living luminary, which, to the eye of Heaven, shines
with most radiant glory. Their moral vision has so long and so intently pored
over the minute distinctions of our party, as to have acquired a contraction of
power, which prevents them from comprehending and admiring, as they would
otherwise do, the grander features of Christianity in general.

I know not a proof of true piety more decisive, and more pleasing, than that
quick perception and fervent admiration of the beauties of holiness, which lead
a man to recognize and love them, wherever they are seen, whether in his own
denomination or in others. "The evil to be deplored in the present state of the
church, is the unnatural distance at which Christians stand from each other, the
spirit of sects, the disposition to found their union on the wood, hay and
stubble of human inventions, or disputable tenets—instead of the eternal Rock,
the faith once delivered to the saints. Surely, surely, we shall find a
sufficient bond of union, a sufficient scope for all our sympathies, in the
doctrine of the cross." –Robert Hall.

3. We should abstain from all intrusive controversy, or underhand proselytism.

I will not deny that there are occasions when our distinctive opinions may be
brought forward with propriety and advocated with zeal; when ’silence’ would be
lukewarmness, and not candor. But to be ever intruding our distinctive opinions
upon the attention of others, and to be always seeking after opportunities of
controversy, is as disgusting as it is pernicious! For while it offends others,
it is sure to do harm to our own spirit.

Regarding the irreligious part of our population as an immense moral desert,
surely there is scope enough for our zeal, to reclaim this immense waste, and
convert it into the garden of the Lord, without employing our energies in
altering the position of those plants and trees, which are already flourishing
in the sacred enclosure. It is a far more honorable and useful kind of zeal, to
convert sinners into Christians; than real Christians of one name, into real
Christians of another name.

Secondly. I shall now speak of the conduct of Christians to the members of other
churches—of their OWN denomination.

It does not infrequently happen, that where two or more churches of the same
denomination exist in a town, a most unhappy, unscriptural, disgraceful temper
is manifested towards each other. All the feelings of envy, jealousy, and ill
will, are cherished and displayed with as much, or more bitterness than two
rival tradesmen would exhibit in the most determined opposition of interests.
This is peculiarly the case where two churches have been formed, by a schism,
out of one. Oftentimes the feud has been perpetuated through one generation, and
has been bequeathed to the generation following. Can it be that these are
churches of saints? Can it be that these are all one in Christ? Can it be that
these are churches, whose rule is the word of Christ, whose conduct is the image
of Christ, whose end is the glory of Christ!!

Shame, public, deep, indelible shame on such churches! Is it thus that churches
quarrel—to find sport for their enemies? By all the regard which is due to the
authority of the Lord Jesus, by all the constraining influence of his love, let
such churches be impelled to terminate their hateful strifes, which are not more
dishonorable to the cause of religion in general, than they are injurious to the
interests of piety within their own immediate sphere of action. With what bitter
taunts, with what sarcastic triumph do profane and infidel spectators point to
such scenes, and ironically exclaim, "See how these Christians love one
another!"

Let us guard against this evil where it does not exist, and endeavor to suppress
it where it does. Let us not look with envy and jealousy on the growing
prosperity of other societies. Let us not consider their success as in any
degree encroaching upon ours. If we succeed more in our own church, let us be
thankful—but not boastful! If others take precedence, let us be stirred up to
affectionate, holy emulation—but not to envy and jealousy! A worthy minister,
who used to preach a week-day lecture in the city of London, heard a friend
expressing his regret that it was so ill attended. "Oh, that," replied the
minister, "is of little consequence, as the gospel is preached by several others
in the same neighborhood; and in such a situation, for anyone to be very
desirous that people should come and hear the gospel from him, instead of
others, seems as unreasonable, as it would be for one of the shopmen in a large
shop, to wish all the customers to come to his particular part of the counter.
If the customers come at all, and the goods are purchased, in so far as he feels
an interest in the prosperity of the shop, he will rejoice."

Beautiful and rare example of true humility, pure zeal and genuine love to
Christ! Look at this, you ministers and churches, who quarrel with your neighbor
Christians, and scarcely speak well of them, because they prosper! Shall we feel
mortified when immortal souls are saved, because we are not the instruments of
their conversion? Shall we say, if we cannot gather them into our church, let
them not be gathered? If two rival physicians, who had each as much as he could
do, when the plague was raging in a town, looked with envy and grudging on each
other’s success, what would we say of their spirit? But such a temper in these
circumstances is far less criminal, than the envious disposition of some
ministers and their flocks.

There should be a spirit of mutual affection between the members of different
churches. They should love as brethren; and that this might not be disturbed,
they should avoid, when they meet in their respective social circles, all
detracting and uncharitable reference to the others. Nothing is more common than
for the Christians of one church to make the circumstances and faults of those
of another church, the leading topics of conversation. Thus the coals of strife
are kindled between these Christian churches, and every one present lends his
breath to fan the flame. It is melancholy indeed, when our houses are thus
converted into temples for the god of this world, the divider of the brethren;
and our family altar is lent for an offering of scandal at his shrine.

Ministers, and leading people in the church, should always set their faces
against this mischievous gossip. All comparisons between the talents of the
ministers, and the respectability of their churches, should be carefully
abstained from! This is sure to do harm. It is right for every church member to
be attached to his own pastor—and he may very innocently think that his minister
is the best preacher in the town—but it is insulting and mischievous to express
his opinion to those who prefer another pastor or church.

Also, it is common for the pulpit to be converted into a source of the most
disgusting adulation, and for a ’ministerial flatterer’ to flatter the pride of
his flock—by telling them how superior they are to all others in affluence,
liberality, and influence. Such fawning, to say nothing of its baseness, is
exceedingly injurious. What is intended as a compliment to one church is felt as
an insult by all others in its vicinity. All boasting should be most
conscientiously refrained from, both on the part of ministers and people. If
they are in a state of spiritual prosperity, let them be thankful—but not
vain-glorious or proud of themselves. "Love does not envy—it does not boast, it
is not proud." 1 Corinthians 13:4. The apostle delivered a very keen rebuke on
those who are the trumpeters of their own fame, when he said, "In this
self-confident boasting I am not talking as the Lord would, but as a fool. Since
many are boasting in the way the world does, I too will boast. You gladly put up
with fools since you are so wise!" 2 Corinthians 11:17-19

Church members should never resent by coldness, and aloofness of behavior, the
conduct of those who leave THEIR church, to join another church in the same
town. They have a right to exercise their own judgment as well as we do. And in
their view, at least, have as good reason for preferring the pastor to whom they
go, as we have for continuing with the one they leave. They may separate too
hastily, and not on sufficient grounds—but that is their concern, not ours. I
have known cases in which both the minister and his flock have refused even the
civilities of ordinary communion to those who have left their church to
associate with another. This is a most pitiful and unchristian disposition.

There are duties to be performed by the church in its collective capacity
towards other churches of the same denomination.

1. We should own them as churches of Christ, cherish the most friendly and
fraternal feelings towards them, and hold Christian communion with them in all
the duties of our common faith and practice.

Such appears to have been the feelings of the primary churches. "The churches of
Christ greet you." Romans 16:16. "Your sister church here in Rome sends you
greetings, and so does my son Mark." 1 Peter 5:13. "You are taught by God to
love one another, and you do it towards all the brethren in Macedonia." 1
Thessalonians 4:9-10.

2. We should receive their members when recommended to us, and freely grant
honorable recommendations of our members to them.

"I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a servant of the church in Cenchrea. I ask
you to receive her in the Lord in a way worthy of the saints and to give her any
help she may need from you, for she has been a great help to many people,
including me." Romans 16:1-2. "As for our brothers, they are representatives of
the churches and an honor to Christ. Therefore show these men the proof of your
love and the reason for our pride in you, so that the churches can see it." 2
Corinthians 8:23-24

3. We should co-operate with neighboring churches for promoting the spread of
the gospel, either by local or general institutions.

Many objects of vast importance to the spread of the gospel in the world can be
accomplished by the union of churches, which cannot be effected without it.
Union is power. Places of worship may be opened, the faithful ministry of the
word introduced, and churches planted in dark, benighted villages; while all the
grand and noble institutions which are organized to save a perishing world, may
by this means receive additional support. United fires brighten each other’s
blaze, and increase each other’s intensity; and thus the association of churches
enkindles each other’s zeal, and provokes one another to love and good works.
Nor is zeal the only Christian virtue promoted by such unions; brotherly love is
cherished and excited. The presence of messengers from other churches at the
annual meetings of our societies, produces a friendly feeling and brotherly
interest, not unlike that which a family experiences, when gathered together at
their reunion. One great end of assembling the males of the Jewish nation three
times a year before the ark, was to keep up a brotherly feeling between the
different and distant parts of the nation. Nothing is so likely to cherish the
fire of love, as the fuel supplied by works of zeal.

4. We should be willing to give and receive ADVICE in cases of difficulty and
importance. Of course, the independence of the churches, and the right of
private judgment, should be vigilantly watched, and sacredly preserved. We have
no dominion over each other’s conduct, any more than over each other’s faith.
The idea of ’control’ is as repugnant to Scripture, as it is to reason. And we
are to resist unto blood, striving against the usurpation of foreign compulsory
interference. But advice does not imply control. The dread which has been felt
of the simple act of one church’s asking the advice of a neighboring minister,
or an association of ministers, in cases of extreme difficulty—shows a fear of
domination, which is perfectly childish. How consistent with all the dictates of
reason, and all the proceedings of civil life, is it, for two parties in a state
of perplexity, to ask the opinion of a third; or for one individual in
difficulty, to solicit the advice of another. When a minister and his flock are
in some critical situation, let them jointly agree to lay their affairs before
some two or three neighboring ministers and laymen of sound judgment, for
counsel and direction; and how often, by this simple, rational, scriptural
process, would a society be brought back from the brink of ruin—to peace and
safety! But what if they should not take the advice thus given by the third
party? They must then be left to themselves, and would be but where they were
before. The disposition which scorns to ask, and refuses to take advice, savors
far more of the pride of self-sufficiency, than the love of peace; and of the
temper which courts interminable anarchy rather than be indebted for the
restoration of order, to the opinions and persuasions of another. Men who stand
out side of the ’mist of passion’, can see more than those who are enveloped in
the fog.

5. We should take a deep interest in the welfare of other churches, and in a
suitable and proper manner express our sympathy, and afford to them our
assistance.

We should at our church meetings remember in prayer, the cases of such as are in
circumstances of affliction; and in the event of the death of a pastor, how
consoling would it be to a bereaved church, to receive letters of condolence
from neighboring churches! There is one way, in which the most effectual help
may be rendered by one church to another—I mean, financial assistance granted
from such as are wealthy—to those who are poor. We are informed, Acts 11:29-30,
that the disciples at Antioch sent financial gifts, according to their
abilities, to the poor saints in Judea. "Now about the money being collected for
the Christians in Jerusalem: You should follow the same procedures I gave to the
churches in Galatia." 1 Corinthians 16:1.

I am aware, that this is sometimes done out of a fund, raised by the joint
contributions of the churches in a county or district association—but how great
would be the effect produced, if a church, in its individual capacity, were from
year to year to send a donation to some poor community in its neighborhood! What
a lovely display of Christian feeling would this be! How would it endear the
churches to each other! It would assist those to gain an efficient and settled
minister, who, probably—but for such help, would only enjoy the precarious
labors of occasional and incompetent preachers. The comfort of many faithful and
laborious ministers would be thus promoted, and the kingdom of Jesus Christ
enlarged. The rich churches in our large cities, and in the country, who,
without effort, can raise for your own pastors ample salaries—I appeal to your
liberality, on behalf of those many churches scattered up and down the land,
which are withering for the lack of a little of that wealth, which you could
spare, without lessening the comfort, either of your minister, or your families.
I would not rob the funds of Missionary, or Bible Societies, to replenish the
little store of gospel ministers at home—but I will say, that no foreign objects
should be allowed to interfere with the claims of those deserving and holy men,
who are laboring for souls amid all the ills of poverty, and all the cares and
woes which such ills must necessarily entail. Where is the favored individual,
into whose lap the ’bounty of Heaven’ has poured the abundance of riches, and
into whose heart divine grace has introduced the mercy which is full of good
fruits? Here let him find an object worthy of his wealth and of his zeal. Let
him become the nursing father of our poor churches. If he spends two thousand
pounds a year in this way, he may give forty pounds a year to fifty ministers.
What a means of usefulness! How many infant churches would smile upon him from
their cradle; and, as they turned upon him their eyes glistening with gratitude,
would exclaim, "My Father, my father!" In how many church-books would his name
be enrolled, amid the benedictions and prayers of the saints!


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  CHAPTER 32: 03.07.     THE PASTOR'S WIFE
========================================================================

Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 THE PASTOR’S WIFE A station so
honorable, so important, so responsible, must necessarily be attended with
duties—numerous, difficult, and of great consequence. As a wife, she should be a
bright pattern of all that tender affection, that unsuspicious confidence, that
cheerful obedience, that undivided devotedness to her husband’s comfort, which
such a relationship implies—a lovely, spotless exhibition of marital virtue. No
man is in greater need of all the force of marital sympathy and love, than a
faithful minister! As the female head of the family, she should direct her
household affairs with judgment, and be a model of order, neatness, and domestic
discipline. A minister derives some degree of respectability from the state of
his family. Home scenes, according as they are lovely or repulsive, form a
beauteous halo around—or dark specks upon, the orb of his public character. It
is required of him that he should rule well his own household—but in this he is
dependent upon his wife. What a disgrace is it that his house should be such a
scene of disorder, as to disgust, by its confusion, the more respectable part of
his friends! Some people, if we were to judge from their habits, and their
homes, seem to have been born out of due time; they look as if the era of their
existence were the reign of chaos. ORDER is heaven’s first law, and the laws of
heaven certainly should govern the habitations of its ministers.

If a mother, a minister’s wife should strive to excel in every maternal
excellence. How often is it the case, that a minister’s children are talked of
almost to a proverb, for their rudeness, ill behavior, and wickedness! In such
instances, much blame must be attached to the mother! In her own personal
character, there are two traits which should appear with peculiar prominence,
and shine with attractive luster in a minister’s wife; these are PIETY and
PRUDENCE. Her piety should not only be sincere—but ardent; not only
unsuspected—but eminently conspicuous. Her habits, her conversation, her whole
deportment, should bear the deep, bright impress of heaven. She should be the
holiest, most spiritual woman in the church! Her prudence should equal her
piety. Without the former, even the latter, however distinguished, would only
half qualify her for her important station. Her prudence should display itself
in all her conduct towards her husband. She should be very careful not to make
him dissatisfied with the situation he occupies. Many a minister has been
rendered uncomfortable in a situation of considerable usefulness, or has been
led to leave it against the convictions of his judgment, by the capricious
prejudices of his wife; whose ambition has aspired to something higher, or whose
love of change has coveted something new. A minister’s wife should consult her
husband’s usefulness, and be willing to live in any situation, however
self-denying its circumstances may prove, where this is promoted. And
considering the influence she has over his decisions, she should be very careful
how she employs it in those seasons when a change is contemplated. Her prudence
should render her extremely careful, not to prejudice her husband’s mind against
any individual who may have, designedly or unintentionally, injured her. In not
a few cases, have pastors been drawn into contention with some of their friends,
by the imprudent conduct of their wives, who, possessing a morbid sensibility to
be easily offended—have reported, amid much exaggeration, affronts which they
ought not to have felt—or, feeling, ought to have concealed. Instead of acting
as a screen, to prevent these petty vexations from reaching his ear, they have
rendered their tongues a conductor, to convey them to his bosom! They should
hide many things of this kind, which it is not important he should know; and
soften others things, of which he cannot be ignorant. In all cases where her
husband is the direct object of a supposed or real injury, a minister’s wife
should be very cautious how she acts. Intended by nature, and inclined by
affection, to be a partisan and an advocate in her husband’s cause, so far as
truth and holiness will allow—she should, at the same time, endeavor rather to
mitigate than exasperate the displeasure of his mind. Her breath, in such cases,
if imprudently employed, may fan a flame which, in its progress, may consume all
the prosperity of the church, and half the reputation of her husband. Let her
therefore govern her own spirit, as the best means of aiding to govern his. Let
her calm, conciliate, and direct his mind—which may be too much enveloped in the
mist of passion, to guide itself. Let her not go from house to house, dropping
sparks and scintillations from a tongue set on fire by hell. If her husband be
the head of a faction, let her not envenom their minds with bitter words, which
are sure to be rendered still more bitter, by the lying gossipers who carry them
to the opposite party. Prudence in a pastor’s wife would have often saved a
church from division! A minister’s wife should never betray the confidence
reposed in her by her husband, and report the opinions, views, and feelings,
which he has communicated in the seasons of their private conversation. The
secrets lie as deposits in her bosom, are to be as sacredly preserved and
guarded, as the ring, which, on the morning of their union, he placed upon her
finger.

Prudence is to be displayed in all her conduct towards the church. Probably, the
chief part of this virtue lies in a proper government of the tongue! A very
large proportion of the disturbances which agitate the surface, and extend their
influence to the very depths of society, arise from imprudent language. There
appears to be, in one half of society, an incurable propensity to tattle what is
to the disadvantage of their neighbors; and in the other half, an indestructible
appetite to relish the slander, when it is gossiped. Now a minister’s wife
should most anxiously guard against this propensity in herself, and most
assiduously labor to abate this appetite in others. Let her, wherever she goes,
remember, that there are many waiting and watching for her words, which they
will be sure to reverberate with the mimicry, though not with the fidelity—of an
’echo’.

Let her tongue never deal in sarcasm, satire, invective, censure, or slander.
Let it be an invariable rule with her, to speak badly of no one! She should
never appear fond of receiving ill reports from others. If she has a taste of
this kind, gratification enough will be found for her. Like a queen bee, she has
no need to roam abroad in quest of honey—she may sit at home in indolent repose,
while the whole hive of gossips and tattlers will collect for her an exuberant
supply! Let her rather discourage these humming, ’busy bees’—and convince them
that she has neither ear for their buzz, nor taste for their honey!

Let her never betray a secret, which she has been compelled to receive; nor
become umpire between two contending parties, since, in whatever way her
decision is pronounced, she is almost sure to offend one of them. She should
avoid, as much as possible, the appearance of favoritism. Some there must be,
with whom she will be more intimate than others—but this fact, if it be known,
would be but little understood. Her friends should be always such, as by the
common consent of the church, would be allotted to her. Of course, they should
not be ’mere minions’ selected to sustain the character of fawning flatterers,
purveyors of tattle, or tools of selfishness. In all her deportment towards the
church, she should maintain a dignified consciousness of her station, blended
with the greatest affability and affection. The law of kindness should be on her
lips, and all her conduct should be so many displays of the meekness of wisdom.
Her dignity should prevent the wealthiest people from being intrusive with her.
Her kindness should make the poorest people feel that she is accessible.

Without being a busy-body, and meddling with the concerns of others, she should
make the interests of her friends her own. Her advice and assistance should
always be granted when asked—but never distributed in a way that would render it
unwelcome and little valued. Her influence should be discreetly exerted in
forming the general piety, and godly habits of the younger women. She should be
the friend of the poor, and be often seen in the chambers of those who are
visited with sickness. With so much to engage her attention, she will have
little leisure for visits of useless show—or expensive get togethers. Such she
ought not to be expected to keep up, for her time can be more usefully and
piously employed. For visits of mere gossip, or etiquette, she ought not to be
put in requisition—and if she is, she should resist the attempt which is thus
made to enslave her, by the "chains of fashion or of folly." She is the wife of
a man—whose master is God; whose business is the salvation of souls; whose scene
of labor is the church of Christ—and the consequences of whose exertions,
whether they succeed or fail, are infinite and eternal! Let her act accordingly!


========================================================================
  CHAPTER 33: 03.08.     DEACONS
========================================================================

Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822

DEACONS The institution of the deacon’s office arose from a seemingly accidental
circumstance which occurred in the church at Jerusalem, the particulars of which
are recorded in the 6th chapter of the Acts of the Apostles.* The original
design of this office, was to administer the bounty of the church. The first
deacons were simply the almoners of their brethren. They dispensed the charities
of the rich, for the relief of the poor. And this, whatever has been added by
the usages of the churches, must still be considered as its paramount duty. What
a lovely and attractive view does it give us of Christianity, and how strikingly
characteristic of its merciful nature, to behold it solemnly instituting an
office, the chief design of which is, the comfort of its poorer followers! Where
shall we find anything analogous to this in other systems? Paganism and
Mohammadanism have nothing like it.

* Some people are of opinion that this occurrence was not the origin of the
deacon’s office, and that the individuals there mentioned, are to be viewed, not
as officers of the church—but merely as stewards of a public charity, who were
appointed for a special occasion, and not as a general and authoritative
precedent. It is said, in support of this opinion, that these individuals are
not called deacons by the sacred historian, and that, in consequence, they
cannot be proved to have been such. It is also contended, that Paul does not
specify, in his epistle to Timothy, the duties of a deacon in such a way as to
identify the office with what Luke, in Acts 6:1-15, has stated to be the duties
of the individuals there selected for the primitive church. In reply to this, I
contend that this was the origin of the deacon’s office, and on the following
grounds—

1st. Church history informs us, that the office was always considered, from the
very earliest ages, as designed for the relief of the poor. If so, how natural
is it to trace up its origin to the circumstance alluded to, which so easily
accounts for it.

2nd. The solemnity with which the seven people were set apart to their office,
that is, with prayer and imposition of hands, looks as if their appointment was
to be considered as a standing and authoritative precedent.

3rd. If this be not the origin of the deacon’s office, where shall we find the
account? and what is still stronger, if this be not the institution, Paul has
given directions about an office, the duties of which are, in that case, not
mentioned in the Word of God. He has certainly said nothing himself of its
design—a circumstance which is strongly presumptive of the truth of my view of
the case, since his silence seems to imply that the duties of the deacon were
already too well known to need that be should specify them. His very omission is
grounded on some previous institution. Where shall we find this—but in Acts 6?

4th. The reason of the appointment in question, is of permanent force, that is,
that those who minister in the Word, should not have their attention diverted by
temporal concerns; and, therefore, seems as if a permanent office was then
established.

5th. I would ask any one who takes a different view from that which I hold, what
are the duties of the deacons mentioned by Paul? If he reply, as I think he
must, "To attend to the concerns of the poor," I would still inquire how he
knows that. If he answers, The testimony of ecclesiastical history—I would still
ask, On what is the immemorial usage of the church could be founded, if not on
the fact mentioned by Luke in the Acts of the Apostles? By a reference to the
origin of the office, we shall learn how widely some religious communities have
departed from the design of this simple, merciful, and useful institution.
"Those who perverted all church orders," says Dr. Owen, "took out of the hands
and care of the deacons, that work which was committed to them by the Holy
Spirit in the apostles, and for which end alone their office was instituted in
the church, and assigned other work unto them, whereunto they were not called
and appointed. And whereas, when all things were swelling with pride and
ambition in the church, no sort of its officers contenting themselves with their
primitive institution—but striving by various degrees to be somewhat, in name
and thing, that was high and aloft, there arose from the name of this office the
meteor of an arch deacon, with strange power and authority never heard of in the
church for many ages. But this belongs to the mystery of iniquity, whereunto
neither the Scripture nor the practice of the primitive churches, do give the
least countenance. But some think it not inconvenient to sport themselves in
matters of church order and constitutions." (Owen on Church Government) The
church of England, which retains some of the corruptions of the church of Rome,
has imitated her in the total alteration of this office. In that communion, the
deacon is not a secular—but a spiritual officer, and his post is considered as
the first grade in the ascent to the episcopal throne. He is a preacher, and may
baptize—but not administer the eucharist. He is, in fact, half priest, half
layman, and does not altogether put off the laic, nor put on the cleric
character, until his second ordination to the full orders of the priesthood. The
church-warden and the overseer share between them the office of the deacon.

Abuses of this office, however, are not confined to the churches of Rome and of
England—but may be found in the ecclesiastical polity of those who separate from
both. What is the deacon of some of our independent communities? Not simply the
laborious, indefatigable, tender-hearted dispenser of the bounty of the church,
the inspector of the poor, the comforter of the distressed; no—but "the bible of
the minister, the patron of the and the wolf of the flock;" an individual, who,
thrusting himself into the seat of government, attempts to lord it over God’s
heritage, by dictating alike to the pastor and the members; who thinks that, in
virtue of his office, his opinion is to be law in all matters of church
government, whether temporal or spiritual. This man is almost as distant from
the deacon of apostolic times, as the deacon of the Vatican. Such men there have
been, whose spirit of domination in the church has produced a kind of
diaconophobia in the minds of many ministers.*

* The author writes from observation, not from experience; besides the eight
deacons with whom he acts at present, he has already outlived eight more, and
both the dead and the living have been his comfort and joy.

I do beseech those who bear this office to look to its origin, and learn that it
is an office of service, which gives no authority, or power, or rule in the
church, beyond the special work for which it is appointed, and that is, to
provide for the comfort of the poorer brethren. This is their business. It is
true, that by the usages of our churches, many things have been added to the
duties of the office, beyond its original design—but this is mere matter of
expediency.

It is often said that the duty of the office is to serve tables; the table of
the Lord, the table of the minister, and the table of the poor. If it be meant
that this was the design of its appointment, I deny the statement, and affirm
that the table of the poor, is the deacon’s appropriate and exclusive duty.
Whatever is conjoined with this, is extra diaconal service, and vested in the
individual, merely for the sake of utility. Such increase of their duties, I
admit, is wise and proper. We need people to take care of the comfort of the
minister—to provide for the holy feast of the Lord’s supper—to direct the
arrangements of all matters connected with public worship; and who so proper for
this, as the brethren who already fill an office, of which temporalities are the
object and design? But these are all additions to the paramount duty of the
deacon, which is to take care of the poor.

Let it not be thought, that this is exhibiting the office in a naked, and
meager, and degrading point of view; or as shorn of the beams of its brightest
glory. What can be a more happy or more honorable employment, that to distribute
the alms of the brethren, and visit the habitations of the poor, like angels of
mercy, with words of peace upon their lips, and the means of comfort in their
hands? A faithful, laborious, affectionate deacon, must necessarily become the
object of justly deserved regard in the church, and be looked up to with the
esteem and veneration, which are paid by a grateful dependent family to their
father. The poor will tell him their wants and woes, spiritual and temporal; and
ask his advice with implicit confidence. He will move through the orbit of his
duty amid the prayers and praises of his brethren, and in measure may adopt the
language of Job, "When the ear heard me, then it blessed me; and when the eye
saw me, then it gave witness to me; because I delivered the poor who cried, and
the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. The blessing of him that was
ready to perish came upon me, and I caused the widow’s heart to sing for joy. I
was eyes to the blind, and feet was I to the lame. I was a father to the poor,
and the cause which I knew not, I searched out."

Surely, surely, here is honor, much pure, legitimate, exalted honor. Such a man
must be, and ought to be a person of influence in the society—but it is the
influence of character, of goodness, of usefulness. Let him have his periodical
visitations of the poor. Let him go and see their wants and woes in their own
habitations, as well as bid them come and tell their sorrows in his. Let him be
full of compassion and tender hearted; let his eyes drop pity, while his hands
dispense bounty; let him be affable and kind as well as attentive. And such a
man shall lack neither honor nor power among his brethren; although, at the same
time, he is peaceful as a dove, meek as a lamb, and gentle as a little child.
The apostle is very explicit in his statement of the qualifications which the
deacons should possess. "Likewise must the deacons be grave," that is, men of
serious and dignified deportment; "not double tongued," that is, sincere, not
addicted to duplicity of speech; "not given to much wine; not greedy of filthy
lucre; holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience," that is, attached
to the doctrines of the gospel, and exhibiting their holy influence in a
spotless life; "and let them also first be proved; then let them use the office
of a deacon, being found blameless. Let them be the husband of one wife, ruling
their children and their own houses well." 1 Timothy 3:8-13.*

*The allusion made to the deacons’ wives, appears to me to be a mistranslation,
and in the original refers to a class of female office bearers in the primitive
church. "Even so the women." As the manners of the Greeks and Romans, and
especially of the Asiatics, did not permit men to have much communion with women
of character, unless they were relations, it was proper that an order of female
assistants should be instituted for visiting and privately instructing the young
of their own sex, and for catechizing females of any age. And as the church was
then much persecuted, and many of its members were often condemned to languish
in a prison, these holy women were, no doubt, peculiarly useful in visiting the
captive Christians, and performing for them many kind offices which their sex
can best render. Such a one, in all probability, was Phoebe, mentioned Romans
16:1. Such were the widows spoken of 1 Timothy 5:1-25. Such were Euodia and
Syntyche, Php 4:3. Clement of Alexandria reckons widows among ecclesiastical
people. "There are many precepts in Scripture for those who are chosen, some for
priests, others for bishops, others for deacons, others for widows." Pliny, in
his celebrated Epistle to Trajan, is thought to refer to deaconesses, when,
speaking of two female Christians whom he put to the torture, he says, "they
were called deaconesses."

Deacons should remember, that all these qualifications should be found embodied,
as much as possible, in each individual, holding the office; and not merely some
in one and some in another, until the character is formed by the joint
number—but not in each member of the deaconry. Some have contended for plurality
of elders in a church, because it is impossible to find all the qualifications
of a Christian elder stated by the apostle, in one person. We are to look for
one excellence in one man, and another in the second, and what is lacking in one
will be made up in another, until their defects and attainments are made to
unite, like the corresponding parts of a dovetail joint. I confess, however,
that this way of making church officers, as it were by patchwork, appears to me
a most absurd idea. The deacons, from their being officers in the church,
although their office refers to temporalities, and also from their being
generally acquainted with the affairs of the church, will be considered by every
wise and prudent minister, as his privy council in his spiritual government, and
should be always ready to afford him their advice in a respectful and
unobtrusive manner. "Christian brethren," said a preacher on this subject, "give
to the minister I love, for a deacon, a man in whose house he may sit down at
ease, when he is weary and loaded with care; into whose bosom he may freely pour
his sorrows, and by whose lips he may be soothed when he is vexed and perplexed;
by whose illuminated mind he may be guided in difficulty; and by whose
liberality and cordial cooperation, he may be animated and assisted in every
generous undertaking." And I would add, who would do all this in the spirit of
humble, modest, and unauthoritative affection. In the transactions of church
business, the deacons should exert no other influence than that which arises
from the esteem and affection in which they are held by the people. All personal
and official authority should be abstained from. Their opinion should ever be
stated with pre-eminent modesty; for if it be a wise one, its wisdom will
commend itself to the judgment of the people, whose hearts are already prepared
by affection and esteem to yield to its influence. Whereas, the wisest opinion,
if delivered dogmatically, will often be resisted, merely because it is
attempted to be imposed.

If a man deserves influence, he will be sure to have it without seeking it, or
designedly exerting it; if he does not deserve it, and still seeks it, he is
sure to be resisted. The deacon’s duty to the people, is to promote, so far as
he is able, the happiness of individuals, and the welfare of the church. In his
communion with them, he should be firm and unbending in principle—but kind and
conciliatory in temper and in manner. In those parts of his office, which are
sometimes very irksome and arduous, from the difficulty of serving all according
to their wishes, he should guard against everything which even appears to be
harsh and unkind. More especially should he do this, when he finds it
impossible, in consistency with his duty to others, to fulfill their desires.
The apparently insignificant circumstance, which will often occur in our
congregations, of being unable to accommodate an individual, or a family, with a
seat, may be mentioned with so much kindness, and with such sincere regret that
it is so, as to lead the individual, or the family, patiently to wait for a more
favorable opportunity; or it may be done, although without design, in a tone of
so much indifference, as to lead the disappointed applicant to relinquish the
hope of success, and to leave the church. The secret charm by which the deacon’s
office may be rendered comfortable to himself, and beneficial to others, is that
golden precept of inspiration, "Let everything be done with love!" Or, as
Doddridge better translates the passage, "Let all your affairs be transacted in
love!" 1 Corinthians 16:14.


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  CHAPTER 34: 03.09.     CHRISTIAN PARENTS
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 CHRISTIAN PARENTS The station
occupied by Christian parents, is exceedingly important, and therefore very
responsible. We naturally look to the families of professing Christians for the
materials with which the "spiritual house" is to be repaired amid the
spoliations of sin and death. A large proportion of our members are the children
of the godly, and our churches would be still more enriched with the fruits of
domestic piety, if that piety itself were more ardent and more exemplary. It is
impossible to urge in terms too strong, the sacred duties of Christian parents.
Their influence on the prosperity of the church is greater than is generally
conceived, or can be fully stated. The DUTIES of Christian parents primarily
relate to their CHILDREN. It is the command of God to train them up in the fear,
and nurture, and admonition of the Lord. Let your first, and deepest, and most
lasting solicitude be for the formation of their religious character, and the
salvation of their souls. Let this regulate all your conduct towards them. Let
it impel you to adopt a system of instruction and discipline, which shall have a
close and constant bearing on their moral and religious habits. Let it guide you
in the choice of schools where they are to be educated, the families into which
they are to be apprenticed. Act so, as that they may clearly discern, that your
most ardent prayer, your most anxious concern, is, that they may be truly godly.
They should see this interwoven with all your conduct towards them; and behold a
uniform, consistent, constant effort to accomplish this object. Let them hear it
expressed in your advice and prayers, and see it manifested in all your
arrangements.

Alas! alas! how many children of church members are there, who, if they were
asked the question, "What is your father and mother’s chief concern for you?"
would be obliged to reply, "That I might excel in fashionable accomplishments,
and make a figure in the drawing room." There appears to me to be, at the
present moment, a most criminal neglect, on the part of Christian parents, of
the pious education of their children. Everything is sacrificed to the lighter
and more frivolous accomplishments of the female character, and to the literary
and scientific acquisitions of boys. Godliness is a secondary matter. But ought
it to be so? Ought it not rather to be the one thing needful for our children,
as well as for ourselves? That Christian who would carry on a system of
religious education with success, should enforce it with all the commanding
influence of a holy example. Let your children see all the "beauties of
holiness," reflected from your character, and the grand outline of Christian
morality filled up with all the delicate touches and varied coloring of the
Christian temper. The heathens had their little shrines of their gods, which
they kept in their own habitation, to remind them of the objects of their
religious veneration and trust. Instead of these household gods, you are to be
to your families--lovely images of the great Jehovah! Let your children have
this conviction in their hearts, "If there be but two real Christians in the
world, my father is one, and my mother is the other." It is dreadful—but not
uncommon for children to employ themselves in contrasting the appearance which
their parents make at the Lord’s table and at their own; in the house of God,
and at home.

FAMILY PRAYER should be performed with great punctuality, constancy and
seriousness. It is of course presumed that every Christian does pray with his
household. It should not be performed so late in the evening that the family are
more fit for sleep than devotion, nor so late in the morning, as for business to
interrupt it. It should ever be conducted with the most solemn devotion, and
never rendered tedious by extreme length. It should be very simple, and have
special reference to the case of the children. That it might be performed with
regularity, parents should rarely sup away from home. It is a disgrace for a
Christian parent to be often seen in the streets at eleven o’clock at night.

Christian parents should resist the entrance of worldly conformity into their
families. Expensive entertainments, mirthful parties, vain and frivolous
amusements, showy modes of dress, should be most cautiously avoided. True
religion will not dwell amid such scenes; her refined and spiritual taste is
soon offended, and she retires. A Christian’s habits should be simple and
spiritual. If it be his aim to approach as nearly as possible to the manners of
the world without actually being numbered with its votaries, his children will
be restrained with difficulty, on the godly side of the line of demarcation, and
be perpetually longing and trying to push onward towards worldliness. The
miserable efforts, made by some professing Christians, to be thought people of
taste and fashion; to live half way between the tradesman and the gentleman,
show how badly they bear the Christian yoke, and how nearly they are resolved to
cast it away as an encumbrance. We should despise these things wherever we see
them, if they did not demand claims upon our pity, still stronger than those
upon our scorn. When a worldly temper has crept into the circle of a Christian
family, piety retires before it, and the spirit of error soon enters to take
possession of the desolate home!


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  CHAPTER 35: 03.10.     YOUNG CHRISTIANS
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YOUNG CHRISTIANS

These generally form a very considerable class of our members, and have duties
to perform appropriate to their age and station. They should be very watchful
against the sins to which the ardor and inexperience of their years may expose
them. They should flee youthful lusts, and be very cautious to abstain from
vanity and self-conceit. Their introduction at so early a period to the church,
is very apt, in some cases, to inflate them with pride, to invest them with
self-importance, and impair that modesty of deportment, which is the loveliest
ornament of their character. In all their conduct towards the church, there
should be an amiable retiredness of disposition. They should be seen at the
church meetings—but very rarely heard. It is difficult to conceive of a more
disgusting or mischievous spectacle, than a young member dogmatically stating
his opinion, and pertinaciously enforcing it, before men who were grey in the
service of God, before his head was covered with the down of infancy.

Young Christians should be very careful not to form matrimonial connections, in
opposition to the apostolic injunction, "not to be unequally yoked together with
unbelievers." Both reason and revelation unite their testimony against the
practice of Christians marrying ungodly people. What an interruption to marital
comfort, what an obstacle to domestic piety, what an injury to the cause of
religion, does such a practice bring with it!

There is one way, in which young Christians may bring great reproach upon the
cause of God, and that is by engaging the affections of a female, and then
abandoning her. This is a species of cruelty which certainly deserves, and
always receives, the severest reprobation. It is dishonorable in a man of the
world, much more in a church member


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  CHAPTER 36: 03.11.     RICH CHRISTIANS
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822

RICH CHRISTIANS

It is true our churches do not abound with such people—but, enriched as our
cause is with the principles of divine truth, and patronized by the smiles of
Heaven, we can dispense with the blazonry and patronage of secular distinctions.

There are men, however, who, amid the accumulations of increasing wealth, remain
firmly attached to the principles of the gospel, and who delight to lavish their
fortunes in supporting the cause they love and espouse. Let them consider it as
their incumbent duty, to consecrate no small portion of their affluence, not
merely in propagating the principles of Christianity abroad—but upholding the
cause of truth at home. The erection of chapels, the support of seminaries, the
maintenance of poor ministers, the establishment of churches--should with them
be objects of deep concern.

Let them, in order to abound more and more in such efforts, as well as to
exhibit a bright example of pure and undefiled religion, avoid all unnecessary
worldly conformity, and all expensive modes of living. Something is due to their
rank and station—but more than is necessary, ought not to be conceded. There is,
in the present age, a disposition, even in professing Christians, to a showy and
expensive style of living, which cannot be more effectually repressed, than by
the plain and simple habits of those who are known to have an easy access to all
the elegancies and splendors of life. "Tell those who are rich in this world not
to be proud and not to trust in their money, which will soon be gone. But their
trust should be in the living God, who richly gives us all we need for our
enjoyment. Tell them to use their money to do good. They should be rich in good
works and should give generously to those in need, always being ready to share
with others whatever God has given them. By doing this they will be storing up
their treasure as a good foundation for the future so that they may take hold of
real life." 1 Timothy 6:17-19.

Such was the admonition of Paul to Timothy, from which we gather, that rich
Christians ought to be far more anxious to give--than to hoard their fortunes.
When we enter their mansions and see magnificence in every room, luxury on every
table; when we see their extravagant dress and decor, we cannot help saying,
"How much ought a disciple of Jesus, who lives in this manner, to give away to
the cause of religion and humanity, before he is justified in such an
expenditure." There appears to me to be yet lacking a proportionate liberality
on the part of the rich. Their giving bears no comparison with those of the
middle classes, and of the poor. The former give of their abundance, the latter
of their little; at most, the former only give of their luxuries—but the latter,
their comforts and necessaries.

Rich Christians should be exceedingly attentive to the needs and comforts of
their poorer brethren. There is a great lack of this in the churches of Christ.
"If one of you has enough money to live well, and sees a brother or sister in
need and refuses to help—how can God’s love be in that person?" 1 John 3:17.
Such people should carefully and tenderly inquire into the condition of the
poor, and not content themselves with a monthly contribution at the Lord’s
supper, to be disposed of by the deacons. And it would be well if the deacons
were often to go to the habitations of the more affluent members of the church,
and lay before them the case of their destitute brethren. The more wealthy
members should be very cautious not to assume undue power in the government of
the church. The distinctions of wealth have no place in the kingdom of Christ.
No haughty airs, no proud scorn of the opinions of others less affluent than
themselves, no overbearing urgency in stating their own views, should ever be
seen in their conduct in the transactions of church business. Their superior
wealth, if not attended with a spirit of domination, is sure in every case to
procure for them all the deference that is compatible with the independence of
the church. In short, the VICES to which rich Christians are more particularly
exposed, and against which they should vigilantly guard, are pride, haughtiness,
love of money, idleness, self-indulgence, luxury, extravagance, worldly
conformity, ecclesiastical domination, and oppression of the poor. The VIRTUES
they are called to exercise are gratitude to God; humility and meekness to men;
frugality and temperance towards themselves; and liberality, together with
tender sympathy to their poorer brethren, and a generous regard to the support
of the cause of pure religion and general benevolence.


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  CHAPTER 37: 03.12.     POOR CHRISTIANS
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822

POOR CHRISTIANS

Contentment with such things as they have, and an unmurmuring submission to the
appointment of Providence, are most obviously their duty, and should be
conspicuously manifested in all their deportment. It should not appear as if
they thought it hard, that their lot was cast in the ’humble valley of poverty’.
A cheerful resignation to the irremediable ills of their station, a frame of
mind that looks as if they were so grateful for the blessings of ’grace’—as to
be almost insensible to the privations of poverty, is one of the ways in which
poor Christians may signally glorify God. The poor should watch against an
envious spirit. "But if you are bitterly jealous and there is selfish ambition
in your hearts, don’t brag about being wise. That is the worst kind of lie."
James 3:14. The poor should be conspicuous for their industry, nor wish to eat
the bread of idleness. "Even while we were with you, we gave you this rule:
"Whoever does not work should not eat." Yet we hear that some of you are living
idle lives, refusing to work and wasting time meddling in other people’s
business. In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, we appeal to such people—no, we
command them: Settle down and get to work. Earn your own living." 2
Thessalonians 3:10-12. The poor have no right, therefore, to expect, that in
consequence of their association with a Christian church, they are in any
measure released from the obligation of the most unwearied industry. They are
not to be supported in idleness, nor ought they to look for any financial
allowance while able to provide for themselves and their family. The religion of
Jesus Christ was never intended to establish a system of religious pauperism. It
is to be feared, that not a few have entered into Christian fellowship on
purpose to share its funds. This is a dreadful case, wherever it occurs, and
should make all the poor members of our churches tremble at the most distant
approximation to such a crime. The only times in which Christians should feel
that they have claims upon the funds of the church, are when sickness or old age
has incapacitated them for labor; or when the produce of their industry is too
scanty to procure the necessities of life. *

* It is a question that has been sometimes agitated, whether it is right for a
church to allow the members to apply for assistance from the town. Such a
question, however, may be set at rest by a law, which, where it really exits,
allows of no farther appeal; I mean the law of necessity. Some churches are
composed in a great measure of poor people, and even of the remainder who are
not poor, there are few above the rank of small tradesmen. In this case, when
trade is bad, and disease is prevalent, it is next to impossible, if not quite
so, for the church to relieve all the needs of its members. But setting aside
this extreme case, what law is violated, what obligation is broken through, by
our members’ applying for a portion of that property, which is collected for
them no less than others, and to which they are legally entitled in common with
others? There can be nothing wrong on the part of the poor themselves in
applying for this relief, unless they are so well provided for by the church as
not to need it. In this case their application would be manifestly an
imposition. The only question is, whether a church, tolerably favored with
affluent members, ought to allow such application. It would certainly be an act
of great generosity in such a church, to render their members independent of
assistance from the town—but I do not see by what law this is actually their
duty. We stand in a double relationship to the poor, as fellow-citizens and
fellow Christians; in our former connection we may ask for them a share of a
civil fund, while in the latter we relieve them from a still more sacred source.
The poor by entering our churches do not forfeit any of their civil rights, and
since they are legally entitled to the assistance of their fellow-subjects; it
is not necessary that we should take upon ourselves, as Christians, those
burdens which others are bound to sustain as citizens. The poor should not be
exorbitant in their expectations of relief; and should the bounty of the church
flow less freely towards them than they have reason and right to look for, they
should not indulge in the language of reproach and complaint. Not that they are
forbidden in mild and modest language to represent their situation to the
deacons.

They should be particularly careful not to manifest an encroaching and begging
disposition. I have known cases, in which the greatest disgust and the most
unconquerable prejudice have been excited against individuals, by their
proneness to beg of everyone who visited them, until at length their
fellow-members, wearied too soon, it must be admitted, with the language of
perpetual complaint and petition, have stopped visiting them altogether.

Cleanliness is a very incumbent duty of the poor. Their cottages may be
lowly—but certainly need not be dirty! Filthiness is one species of vice, and
cleanliness is not only next to godliness—but a part of it. The credit of
religion often depends on little things, and this is one of them!


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  CHAPTER 38: 03.13.     CHRISTIAN TRADESMEN
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 CHRISTIAN TRADESMEN A very large
number of our church members are engaged in the pursuits of trade,
manufacturing, or commerce; and from their very calling are exposed to peculiar
dangers, which must be met with proportionate vigilance.

It is highly incumbent upon them to take care against a worldly spirit. They are
in extreme peril of losing the power of godliness from their hearts, and joining
the number of those, of whom it is said, in the expressive language of Paul,
that "they mind earthly things." Such people look upon the possession of wealth
as "the one thing needful." It is their chief object of pursuit, the chief
source of happiness. Nothing modifies or mitigates the desire for riches. They
are of the earth, earthy. Now certainly a Christian tradesman is, or ought to
be, of another spirit than this. He should be industrious, frugal, and
persevering in his attention to the concerns of this world—but still there
should be in his mind, an ultimate and supreme regard to the possession of
everlasting life. He ought not to be, slothful in business—but then he must be
fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. He should be seen to unite the diligent
tradesman and sincere Christian; and to be busy for both worlds. The men of this
world should be constrained to say of him, "This man is as attentive to
business, and as diligent in it as we are—but we can perceive in all he does, an
inflexible regard to morality, and an invariable reference to piety. We can
discover no lack of diligence or prudence—but it is perfectly evident, that his
heart and highest hope are in heaven. He is neither so elated in prosperity, nor
so depressed in adversity, as we are. He has some secret source of happiness, of
which we are not possessed; and his eye is upon some driving force, which we do
not recognize. He is a Christian as well as a tradesman."

What a testimony! Who can obtain a higher one? Who should seek less?

There are many snares to which a Christian tradesman is peculiarly exposed in
the present mode of conducting business. The stream of trade no longer glides
along its old accustomed channel, where established and ordinary causes impelled
its motions and guided its course—but under the violent operation of new and
powerful impulses, it has of late years veered from its course, and, with the
rapidity of a torrent or the force of an inundation, has swept away the
restraint of religious principle, and carried a deluge of dishonesty over the
moral world.

It is quite time for Christian tradesmen to return, in their mode of conducting
business, to the sound principles of Christian morality. Let them beware of
excessive speculation; and where the property with which they trade, is scarcely
their own, let them err rather on the side of caution than of enterprise. Let
them beware of all dishonorable means of propping up a sinking credit. Let them
view with abhorrence those practices which are resorted to only by rogues and
swindlers. Let them tremble and blush at a single effort to extricate themselves
from difficulty, which the world would condemn as unfair or dishonorable. Let
their motto be, "whatever things are true, whatever things are honest, whatever
things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever
things are of good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise,
think on these things." Php 4:7. A Christian should be careful not to conceal,
too long, the fact of his being in a state of insolvency. A false pride, or a
foolish hope, has led many to the dishonor of their profession, to go on
floundering in difficulties, while every struggle has only carried them farther
and farther into the current of ruin, until at length their fortune and their
character have sunk together, to rise no more. I do not say that a man ought in
every case to call his creditors together the moment that he discovers he cannot
pay twenty shillings in the pound—but he certainly ought to do it without delay,
as soon as he ceases to hope that he shall ultimately do so.

Every Christian tradesman should be very watchful against those artifices,
violations of truth, and unfair advantages, which many resort to in the selling
of their articles. It might indeed have become the ’general practice’—but tricks
of trade, if contrary to truth and honesty, are clear and flagrant violations of
godly duty. No prevalence of ’custom’ can make that right, which in itself is
wrong. The standard of a Christian’s morality is the Bible; and whatever is
opposed to that, he must avoid and abhor. A tradesman who makes a profession of
religion, should be most eminent for justice, truth, honor, and generosity--in
all his dealings. His religion should be seen in all his conduct. "I know
nothing of that man’s creed," said a person of a religious tradesman with whom
he dealt, "because I never asked him what he believed—but a more honorable,
punctual, generous tradesman, I never met with in my life. I would as soon take
his word for a thousand pounds, as I would another man’s bond for a shilling.
Whatever he promises he performs, and on time, also." This is adorning the
doctrine of God his Savior in all things.

It is very dishonorable, when a Christian tradesman is actuated by a spirit of
envy and jealousy towards others, and when he employs ungenerous means to
prevent their success. No one has an exclusive monopoly, except in the case of
patents. Others have as much right to live where they like, as we have. It is
their world, as well as ours; and to employ our wealth in any case to ruin them,
by underselling, is a spirit totally incompatible with the essence of religion,
and the nature of Christian fellowship. Such an envious person deserves
excommunication, not only from the church of God—but from the society of
rational creatures!

It is perfectly obvious, that the tradesman ought to regulate his expenditure by
his income. The man who lives beyond his resources is a robber and a thief. His
extravagance is supported by the property of others; and as it is taken without
their consent, it is a felony, for which he is answerable, if not at the court
of man, yet certainly at the tribunal of God!


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  CHAPTER 39: 03.14.     THE TRUE NATURE OF CHURCH POWER
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 THE TRUE NATURE OF CHURCH POWER
"I will build My church." Matthew 16:18 In our conversation upon the subject of
church government, it is very common to talk of the power or authority of our
churches. But in what does this power really consist, and how far does it
extend? Every church has certainly an unquestionable right to regulate all its
own temporal and spiritual affairs, to the entire exclusion of all human
interference and control whatever. But we must be careful not to carry the idea
of independence so far as to trench upon the dominion of Jesus Christ. The power
of a church is simply a right to put their own interpretation upon the laws of
Christ, and to obey his laws, in the way which they think will be most agreeable
to him. This is neither understood nor remembered with as much distinctness as
it should be. Hence it is a very usual thing for churches at their stated, or
occasional meetings, to consider themselves as met to make laws, and set in
order the affairs of the spiritual kingdom; and a great deal is said about "our
church," and "the rules that we have established in our church." OUR church?!
When did it become OURS? The church is Christ’s! The rules WE have established?!
The sole right of making laws, is with Him to whom the church belongs! The
church is a kingdom, of which Christ is sole monarch! The New Testament is his
spiritual code, and all the power we have, is to execute the laws which he has
already established. In the whole business of church government, we are to
acknowledge the authority, and consider ourselves as doing the will of Christ.
Nothing is left to our will, to our wisdom, to our caprice—but in all things we
are to be guided by the law of Jesus, laid down in his word! In the choice of
officers, in the admission of members, in the exercise of discipline, we are not
to act upon views and principles of our own—but are to be guided by those we
find in the New Testament. We have no power to legislate—but merely to interpret
the law, and obey. When we meet, Christ is in the midst of us, not only by his
essential presence—but by his revealed will; and every authoritative voice is
hushed—but that which speaks to us from the sacred canon. When a member is
proposed, we are not to ask, "Is he such an one as we think will add
respectability to our communion? is he of long standing in the ways of God? is
he peculiar in his habits?" but, "Is he such an one as Christ has received?"
When a measure is submitted for our adoption, we are not first to inquire into
its policy—but whether it is in exact accordance with the general principles and
spirit of the New Testament. Every act of church government must be an explicit
acknowledgment of the authority of Jesus, as King in Zion, and an act of
obedience to his laws.

It is impossible for this sentiment to be stated too frequently or too forcibly.
It lays the axe to the root of all the errors on church government, which have
crept into the world. The papacy, and the episcopacy, with other ecclesiastical
corruptions, may be traced to a lack of proper views of the nature of church
power. Let it once be admitted that a church of Christ has a right of
legislating beyond what is written in the New Testament, and there is no such
thing as limiting the exercise of this right, until the authority of Christ is
superseded, and his church is converted into a mere secular institution.


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  CHAPTER 40: 03.15.     MODE OF CONDUCTING CHURCH MEETINGS
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 MODE OF CONDUCTING CHURCH
MEETINGS

Every well regulated church will have its solemn and stated meetings for
conducting the business necessarily connected with its existence and progress.
Many ministers have imbibed a prejudice against these meetings, and, like
Charles the First, who, not finding the parliament as suppliant as he could
wish, determined to govern without parliaments altogether--they have resolved to
rule without calling the church together, except, at least, on extraordinary
emergencies. I admit that church meetings have been abused—but this has been
more frequently the fault of the pastor, than the people. They have sometimes
exhibited scenes of confusion, little recommendatory of the democratic form of
church government. This, however, is not the error of the system—but the
improper way in which it is administered. When ignorance or imprudence is
elevated to the chair, order and decorum cannot be looked for in the assembly.

It would conduce to the order of church meetings, if it were much inculcated by
the pastor, and generally understood by the people, that they were meetings for
devotion, and not for debate. They should ever be attended with the usual
services of a prayer meeting, that is, with singing, supplication, and
ministerial exhortation. If business is to be done, it should be thus
introduced, and transacted in the spirit, and amid the services of devotion.
These times of assembling should be periodical; for when they are only
occasional, they lose the character of devotional seasons, and assume the form
of business meetings, to which the members come prepared for protracted and
general discussion. The admonition of the apostle is always in season—but never
more so than in reference to the times of the assembling of the saints, "Let
every man be slow to speak." And when any one does deliver his opinion, it
should not be in a prating, dogmatic manner—but in few words, modestly spoken.
Not only the pastor—but the people themselves, should discourage those forward,
obtrusive spirits, to whom no music or melody is so pleasant as the sound of
their own voice. Talking assemblies soon become disorderly ones. A wise and
prudent minister will set his face against them; and a wise and prudent church
will support him in this conduct.

It is, of course, no less the interest than the duty of the church, to support,
at all its meetings, the just and scriptural authority of the pastor. He should
ever be addressed in the most courteous and respectful manner, and every
expression of rudeness should be marked with the disapprobation of the members
present.


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  CHAPTER 41: 03.16.     ADMISSION OF MEMBERS TO THE CHURCH
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Christian Fellowship By John Angell James, 1822 ADMISSION OF MEMBERS TO THE
CHURCH WHO ARE WE TO RECEIVE? When an individual is known to be desirous of
fellowship, information of this should be conveyed without delay to the pastor,
who, upon conversing with the person, and making suitable inquiries about his
character and conduct, may mention him as a candidate for fellowship. No member
should bring forward a candidate in opposition to the opinion of the pastor. It
is of course to be expected, that he will never reject an individual—but upon
grounds which appear to him to be quite sufficient, and which he will, without
hesitation or reserve, communicate to the person himself. On the part of the
church, there is sometimes a very unscriptural reluctance to receive people into
membership, until after they have had a long trial of their Christian
steadfastness and integrity. It is very common for some members to exclaim in
surprise, when the name of a candidate is mentioned to them in secret, "What, is
he going to be proposed to the church? Why, he has not been converted three
months." I wish these over-cautious Christians to tell me, what length of time
ought to elapse after conversion, before the individual is introduced to
communion? Has Jesus Christ stated any term of probation, which we must pass
through before we are received into the church? Certainly not. What right have
we then to fix upon any? Is it not establishing terms of communion, which he has
not established? Is not this a direct invasion of his authority? If we consult
the precedents furnished by the practice of the apostles, they most decisively
condemn the overstrained caution of those, who would put a Christian upon the
trial of a year or two, before he is admitted to communion. In the book of Acts,
the very day in which a man professed himself a Christian, he was added to the
church. In fact, his joining himself to the church, was his profession. I would
have every step taken to inquire into the knowledge, faith, and conduct of an
individual who proposes himself for fellowship; and if they are satisfactory, I
would admit him, although he had been converted but a single month; and I call
upon the person who would refuse to join in such admission, to show on what
ground he acts. Let him not talk about the necessity of caution, and the
possibility of being deceived; this is very true—but it must not be allowed to
interfere with the rules which Christ has laid down for the government of his
church. OUR views of policy cannot improve HIS institutions, and ought not to
oppose the practice of his apostles. The rule of our proceeding is simply this,
"We must receive those whom we think the Lord has received." Abandon this rule,
and we have no directory for our conduct. One person may think a year’s trial
enough—but another may think two years’ necessary. It is truly shocking to see
how many excellent and exemplary Christians are kept by some churches, month
after month, at a distance from the fellowship of the faithful, under the
pretense of testing their steadfastness. "We must not take the children’s
bread," say these ultra cautious disciples, "and cast it to the dogs." Nor have
you a right to starve the children--any more than you have to pamper the dogs!
Our rule is this, "evidence of personal piety, whether that evidence be the
result of a month or a year." The LORD’S SUPPER is intended no less for babes
than fathers in Christ; and who will contend that the right way to treat a new
born infant, is to neglect him, and leave him to himself, to see whether he will
live? To nurse and feed him are the ordained means to preserve his life. It is
precisely the same in spirituals as in temporals. And if it be proper to say of
a child that died in consequence of neglect, that he would have lived if proper
care had been taken, it is not less correct to say of some people that once
appeared hopeful—but afterwards returned to the world--that perhaps, they would
have proved honorable Christians, had they not been neglected by the church. The
same unscriptural caution is sometimes displayed towards those converts, who are
young in years. It is surprising to see what a panic some members are thrown
into, when a young person is proposed as a candidate for fellowship; and if they
happen to discover that the youth is only fifteen or sixteen years of age, they
seem to feel as if the church was either going to be profaned or destroyed. Is
there, then, a biblical age of membership? Is the same rule established in the
kingdom of Christ, which is observed in the kingdoms of the world, and everyone
considered as unfit for the privileges of citizenship, until he arrives at the
age of one and twenty? If not, what right have we to speak or think about the
age of a candidate? Piety is all we have to inquire into; and whether the
individual be fourteen, or forty--we are to receive him, provided we have reason
to suppose, "that Christ has received him." The MODE OF ADMISSION is various in
different churches. On this subject we have no other scriptural guide than mere
general principles. The church is to receive the member, and any mode which they
may adopt to ascertain the sincerity of his piety, is lawful, provided that it
is not so rigid as to deter people from applying for admission. In every case,
the church ought to have the means of ascertaining the piety of the individuals;
without this there can be no real communion. In some churches, the pastor only
examines the candidate—but this is too great a power to delegate to any one
person--and too great a responsibility for any man willingly to incur. In other
churches, the individuals are examined before the body of the brethren. Another
plan is, for the pastor and two of the brethren to converse with the candidate
in private, and then state their opinion to the assembled church. In addition to
this, some churches require a written statement of the religious views and
feelings of the candidate. To make this an inflexible standard of admission, is
unscriptural and absurd, since many cannot write at all, and others are so
unaccustomed to commit their thoughts to writing, that their letters are so
incoherent as to be scarcely fit to be read in public. It is admitted that there
are some advantages connected with the plan.

It is deeply interesting to hear a simple, artless account of a sinner’s
conversion; and by his particularizing the very sermons which were the means of
his conversion, he helps in no small degree to raise the pastor in the
estimation of the church, by these proofs of his usefulness and success, and to
endear him to their hearts.

"In most of our American churches, candidates are required to appear before the
assembled church, and detail the methods of grace by which God brought them to
his knowledge and service." (Choules)


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  CHAPTER 42: 04.00. CHRISTIAN HOPE
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CHRISTIAN HOPE By John Angell James, 1859

Preface On Hope, Considered Generally On the Nature of Christian Hope, and its
Distinction from Faith and Love The Foundation of Hope The Object of Hope
Salvation by Hope The Assurance of Hope The Author of Hope Hope as an Anchor
Hope Considered as a Helmet A Good Hope Through Grace A Living Hope A Patient
Hope A Purifying Hope A Hope That Makes Not Ashamed The Harmony Between Hope and
Fear Hope Only in this Life The Hope of the Hypocrite

Hope in Death The Necessity and Means of Strengthening Hope


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  CHAPTER 43: 04.00P.    PREFACE
========================================================================

PREFACE

Having already sent forth a treatise on both FAITH and LOVE, which have met with
much acceptance from the public, I felt a natural and not an unworthy desire to
complete the consideration of the apostolic trio of Christian graces, by issuing
another on HOPE. The importance of the subject justifies this attempt to bring
it somewhat more fully before the lovers of practical Christian literature. HOPE
is in fact the substance of the New Testament; the end of redemption; the glory
of Christianity; and the antidote of nature’s supreme evil. It goes with us
where all other subjects leave us—to the entrance of the dark valley of the
shadow of death; and when every other light is extinguished, furnishes us with
the only lamp that can guide us through the domain of death, to the realms of
glory, honor, and immortality. Thus it accomplishes what the human understanding
never could achieve, by solving the sublimely tremendous problem of man’s
existence beyond the grave.

’Unaided reason’ never did, and never could, arrive at a satisfactory conclusion
regarding the immortality of the soul and a future state of happiness. It could
not be sure that the soul survives the wreck of its material frame; for some
appearances are against it, which the presumptive arguments in favor of it are
too feeble to refute. If it could prove this fact—of the soul’s existence beyond
the grave—still it could not demonstrate, nor scarcely hope, that it would be
immortal—for eternity seems to be an attribute too vast for any one but God
himself. If by any means it could persuade itself of this, it would be unable to
prove that the soul would enter upon its felicity immediately after death.
Equally uncertain would it be, of what that future felicity consists; still more
would it be at a loss to know by what means celestial happiness was to be
obtained, and how the sinful, earthly spirit of man was to be fitted for its
enjoyment.

All these questions being satisfactorily solved, there would yet remain the
unrelieved, unbelievable doubt, whether this immortal existence and felicity
were intended for all that wear the form of man, for the swarming millions of
the human race, the countless multitudes descending to the lowest grade of
humanity, or only for the choice and best of mankind. Thus, at every step of the
inquiry, ’unaided reason’ is bewildered, and sees shadows, clouds, and darkness
resting upon her horizon. To all this these questions, her oracle is silent, or
gives out only vague responses, doubtful and delusive. To settle these points,
it was necessary that God himself should speak. He has spoken, and it is the
glory of revelation, that it does not hold out mere dim and obscure
disclosures—but throws a flood of noontide radiance upon all these solemn and
momentous inquiries. With what glowing raptures should we bless God for that
gospel which brings life and immortality to light, and meets the deepest
cravings of the soul. A poet has sung, in the charms of verse, "The Pleasures of
Hope." It is for the Christian, with his Bible opening a vista into heaven, to
realize and enjoy them. To the subject of this volume I have also been in some
measure led by my own circumstances. In the seventy-third year of my life, and
the fifty-third of my ministry, I have no need of a special revelation to assure
me that "I must shortly put off this my tabernacle"—by the course of nature,
this cannot be far off. The shadows of evening are gathering fast and thick
around me, and I find it most consoling, on the border country of the world
unseen, to go forward into what would be otherwise a dark unknown, guided and
cheered by a hope full of immortality. I am induced to believe that what has
comforted me in the preparation of the work, may by perusal be a source of
consolation to others.

Many things are most accurately seen, in their relative importance, when viewed
in the decline of life. It is in the calm of the evening, and not during the
heat, and bustle, and burden of the day, that men in trade best judge of the
objects which have engaged their attention in the hours of business. So it is
with the Christian, in reflecting upon his religious life—and especially with
the Christian minister, in looking back upon the pursuits of his official
career.

I am not even now indifferent to many lesser matters of Christian truth; but
compared with Faith, Hope, and Love, these things now appear to me only as the
skeleton to the living body of Christianity. No man will be either saved or lost
by the principles of church government—but by his possession or his destitution
of these graces. There are many ways to perdition—but ecclesiastical polity is
not one of them. There is only one way of salvation, and that is, not
Episcopacy, Presbyterianism, Methodism, nor Congregationalism; but repentance
towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ. Along the bye-paths of each of
these systems many are continually coming into the King’s high-road to eternal
life. This should make us charitable to each other, and convince us upon what
objects our attention and our zeal should be chiefly concentrated; for is it not
pitiable to see men spending so much of their time and energy upon the
unprescribed formalities of a ceremonial externalism, to the comparative neglect
of Faith, Hope, and Love?

Most sad is it, that in the middle of the nineteenth century of Christian era,
so many of its professors should have, if not to learn, yet to remember, that
"the kingdom of God is not food and drink" nor creed and ceremony—but
"righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Spirit." Our holy religion, as
exhibited on the page of ecclesiastical history, and of theological controversy,
has, to its own disparagement, been too often made to appear more like a fury
than a seraph; a demon of destruction, rather than a ministering angel; and
brandishing a sword, instead of holding out the olive branch of peace. O that
some voice, loud enough to be heard throughout Christendom, and powerful enough
to be universally obeyed, would summon us all round the fount of inspired truth,
first to purify our much abused vision from the scales of error and prejudice,
and then to learn that real Christianity consists of the three apostolic graces;
while all else is but her earthly attire, which may vary in fashion and color,
without affecting her substance and life, or destroying her symmetry. Had this
been understood, believed, remembered, and practiced from the beginning, what
monstrous systems of error; what iron yokes of spiritual tyranny; what bloody
persecutions; what ecclesiastic arrogance and presumption; what disfigurements
of the simple and spiritual religion of the meek and lowly Jesus, by pagan rites
and external ceremonies; what foul blots upon the fair form of Christianity,
would the world have been spared!

Amid the controversies and decrees of church councils, how has the still small
voice of the apostle been stifled, which says, "Now abides faith, hope, love,
these three—but the greatest of these is love." How forward have men been to
admire this sacred trio—but how slow to imitate them. Poets have sung their
charms; painters have delineated their beauty; music chanted their praises; and
eloquence emblazoned their worth—what remains but for preachers to make them the
prevailing themes of their ministry, and for professing Christians to exhibit
them in the practice of their lives. When this shall every where be done, and
they shall universally come in place of a heartless orthodoxy and an external
ritualism, then the world will see Christianity as she is, and will covet to be
like her; but, until then, multitudes will look upon Christianity with
suspicion, and not a few turn from her with disgust! Our great concern should be
to promote a healthful, spiritual, robust, and godly piety in our churches; for
which no external improvements in our architecture, our music, or our services,
can be a substitute. What we should seek to maintain in our denomination, is the
more powerful dominion of faith, hope, and love, compared with which, many of
those matters which are now rife among us, are but of very small importance.
Provided, however, our supreme, constant, and vigilant concern be directed to
the preservation of vital Christianity, and to that sound doctrine from which
alone it can proceed, there is no harm, and will be no danger, in any attention
we may pay to matters of religious tastefulness.

Ministers may have, should have, ought to have, great stores of knowledge, and
yet be "apt to teach." Simplicity of communication is not incompatible with
profundity of possession, nor is earnestness opposed to elegance. Where there is
no heresy of doctrine, nor even any lack of evangelical truth, there may be so
much of excessive elaboration, and of "the enticing words of man’s wisdom, as to
make the cross of Christ of none effect." The gospel may be preached—but with so
much of studied intellectualism of style, so much of mere evangelical theory and
Christian science, and in so heartless a manner, as to be likely to produce
little effect. It is too much forgotten, both by preachers and hearers, that it
is truth, and not talent merely, that feeds the soul of the Christian; and the
truth addressed not only to the intellect, in the way of logical argument—but to
the heart and the conscience, with earnest warmth, and urgent importunity.

FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE, which are, or ought to be, the great themes of the
Christian ministry, are something more than matters of theory—mere theses for
the theologian to discuss before an audience. They are matters of eternal life
or death, and should be preached as if the preachers believed them to be so. The
more talent that is brought to such themes the better, provided it be the object
of the talent to make the truth understood, felt, and believed. The gospel is
worthy of the noblest intellects, and it is a kind of profanity to touch and
teach it ignorantly, carelessly, and feebly. High philosophical and metaphysical
intellectualism is indeed a luxury for many; but after all is not so adapted to
the mental constitution and spiritual health of the great mass of our
congregations—as plainer and simpler food. And is it not by the necessaries of
life—good, substantial, nutritive diet—that our corporeal frame is nourished and
strengthened, rather than by the highly-wrought inventions of the culinary art?

We might fairly ask, who are the preachers and what is their style of preaching,
by whom the minds of men have been stirred, their hearts changed, and their
souls saved? What is needed for the great bulk of the people is the earnest
popular preaching of the gospel—the power of vigorous thinking in plain
language—a somewhat pictorial style addressed at once to the imagination, the
heart, and the conscience, as well as to the judgment—and all this in a lively
elocution.

I confess, however, to a little jealousy of some recent schemes for interesting
the masses of our population in the subject of true religion. I do not presume
to judge and condemn those who have adopted them—but I somewhat question their
propriety. The gospel of our salvation is so momentous a subject to man’s
eternal welfare; there is such a dreadful and deadly apathy concerning true
religion lying on the great mass of the population; the ordinary methods have
proved so insufficient to rouse them from their stupor, that I am quite prepared
to go considerable lengths in carrying out the apostle’s principle, "if by any
means I might save some." But there is a limit even to this, and there is, I
think, a danger of passing that limit, in this age. A craving appetite for
novelty and excitement may be created, which will be increased by indulgence,
and continually require fresh stimulants; until all extraordinary means fail,
and ordinary ones then become flat, tasteless, and neglected. Nothing but the
earnest, intelligent, popular, and attractive preaching of the gospel, carried
on with a deep sympathy and a loving spirit for the masses of the people, and a
multiplication of places for their accommodation, will meet their case.

These remarks will be considered by many a long digression from the subject of
my book. I know that in some measure they are. But as I shall not have many more
opportunities, if any, of speaking from the press, I have determined to embrace
the present one, to give utterance to a few thoughts on some prevailing topics
of the day. It may be a feeble testimony I deliver—but it is an earnest and
concerned one.

Now, for a short space, I return to the ensuing pages. These pretend to nothing
new, original, or eloquent—nothing racy, brilliant, or amusing—nothing for the
scholar, philosopher, or even profound theologian—but still much that is true
and important—much that by God’s grace may be useful to the children of His
redeemed family, if indeed they desire to read to profit and not to cavil or to
criticize—if, in short, they are really anxious to grow in FAITH, HOPE, and
LOVE. And they cannot be Christians if they do not. I write plain truths, in
plain language, for plain people; and if they are profited, I have reached the
measure of my ambition.

We sometimes, in the department of the fine arts, meet with a painting that
professes to be "after the old masters." It may be very inferior—but it has
something of their subject, spirit, and manner. I make a similar pretension, and
have written this book after "the old authors," and under the humbling
consciousness of its immeasurable inferiority—am in no danger of being proud of
my success. I am a warm but discriminating admirer of those great men of the
seventeenth century, especially of Hall, Taylor, and Barrow, among the
Episcopalians, and Howe, Baxter, and some works of Owen, among the
Nonconformists. I am aware of their faults; but O, their matchless excellences!
How much would it conduce to the usefulness of their preaching, and the
edification of their flocks, if our young ministers made themselves more
acquainted with the immortal productions of these illustrious men; and uniting
their affluence of thought with modern accuracy and elegance, this would give
that power to the pulpit, which at present, in the opinion of many, it has lost.

If any of the readers of this volume should have perused my work, entitled "The
Course of Faith," they will find some few repetitions of the thoughts, and
perhaps of the language, contained in that work—especially in the chapters on
Assurance and Heaven. It was impossible to avoid this, as the graces of faith
and hope touch each other in some points so closely. So also there will be found
occasional repetitions in one part, of what was stated in others—a thought or a
text being expanded in one place, which was only glanced at in another. The
different aspects and relations of Hope, though on some points dissimilar, are
in others alike. Repetitions, however, are not always redundancies—they abound
in Scripture.


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  CHAPTER 44: 04.01.     ON HOPE, CONSIDERED GENERALLY
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ON HOPE, CONSIDERED GENERALLY

History tells us that Alexander, when setting out on one of his expeditions of
conquest, distributed his gratuities with such lavish profusion as to lead to
the question from one of his friends, "What he reserved for himself?" His reply
was, "HOPE." It was a noble response from a lofty mind, and has served from that
day to the present as an inspiration to others—not merely when coveting and
seeking some desired object—but in the lowest ebb of adversity—and as a stimulus
to the pursuit of brighter days and happier scenes! Few men are so content and
satisfied with their present circumstances as not to wish and seek an
enlargement of their felicity.

Men live more upon the past and the future—than upon the present. Their memory,
and their hope—are the chief sources of their happiness. Poetry has seized upon
both these as the subject of its verse, and while one author has sung "The
Pleasures of Memory," the muse of the other has chosen as its theme "The
Pleasures of Hope."

Perhaps there is no passion so generally indulged as hope. Its subjects are men
of all classes from the peasant to the prince—for none are sunk so low as to be
beneath its reach, nor are any elevated so high as to be above its influence.
The savage and the sage; the wild man of the woods, whose desires do not go
beyond the catching of his prey or the gratification of his appetites, and the
philosopher whose expectations sublimely extend to some grand discovery in
science—are all alike under the power of HOPE. Its beams add splendor to the
palace and enliven the gloom of the cottage. The monarch has something more to
desire—and the most forlorn child of poverty something yet to expect. It is thus
a merciful provision in the construction of our nature, and so powerful, as well
as general is its influence—that many indulge it for themselves when none else
can for them. And as it is all but universal as regards its subjects, so is it
also in reference to its occasions. Other passions operate by starts in
particular circumstances, or in certain parts of life—but hope seems to begin
with the first dawn of reason, at the very commencement of our capability to
compare our actual, with our possible state. The babe at his mother’s bosom,
when craving with hunger in sight of the supply for his needs—though he has not
yet learned to express his desires and expectations in articulate language, nor
to put his passions into words—has hope, and expresses it by a cry and a look;
it is then as strong as in manhood. We can recollect the desires of our early
years, when we had only trifles to wish for—but trifles which were as important
to us then, as the more splendid baubles that were probably to occupy, with a
change of follies—our maturer ambition. "Mirthful hope is theirs"—is one of the
expressions in reference to the happiness of boyhood in Gray’s well-known ode.

Other passions change or cease as situations change and circumstances vary—but
hope, never. And human life seems rather a transition from hope to hope than
from pleasure to pleasure—for very few sit down contentedly to enjoy what they
have—but are ever restless to gain something which they have not.

Hope is the mainspring of human action—the lunar influence that keeps the tide
of human affairs in perpetual and healthy motion. Without hope, all things would
settle down into an offensive and pestiferous stagnancy. Hope impels to labor,
sustains it, and makes its fatigues tolerable. Hope is the parent of enterprise,
the impulse of ambition, and the nerve of resolution. Stop any man in any
department of activity, and in any stage of his career, and ask him what is his
motive for such laborious exertion, such self-denying sacrifices, such untiring
efforts—and you will find that he is urged through his weary course by hope.

Let the last ray of hope expire, and all this energy will as certainly and
immediately stop as the piston in the cylinder of the engine when the steam
pressure ceases and the whole machinery is still. The laborer continues day by
day at his toil, wiping away the sweat of his brow, in hope of his wages at the
end of the week; the tradesman, manufacturer and merchant are all animated by
the same impulse; the scholar and philosopher pursue their studies under the
same influence. The warrior and the tradesman, the sailor and the traveler, are
all one in the motive power of their conduct—however the objects may differ. And
were an inhabitant of another world to survey from the upper regions of our
atmosphere one daily revolution of our globe on its axis, and after surveying
the endless diversity of human pursuits, the busy activities of our race, the
intense concern, the indomitable earnestness, and the untiring labors, with
which all their pursuits were carried on, and were to ask the question, "What is
it that keeps all these countless millions in such restless motion?" the answer
would be—Hope! Let hope take her flight from our world, and her guiding,
inspiring and fostering influence be withdrawn, and all this scene of vital
activity would become an inert mass, a region of mortal dormancy, a dead sea in
which nothing could live. But that which is the mainspring of exertion—is also
the consolation of the distressed. Why, even the prosperous find hope necessary
to their enjoyment. Their life, whatever accumulation of the gifts of Providence
it may contain, would still be wretched were it not elevated and delighted by
the hope of some new possession—of some enjoyment yet ahead—by which the wish
shall be at last satisfied, and the heart filled up to its utmost extent. And if
hope be necessary to the enjoyment of the sons and daughters of prosperity, how
much more to those of adversity and sorrow.

What is it that enables the tradesman, oppressed by declining fortunes, to go on
amid disappointment and defeat? Hope that the tide in his affairs will soon
turn, and prosperity come. What is it that sustains the sufferer, to whom
sleepless nights and painful days are allotted—to bear his sufferings with
patience and fortitude? Hope that the hour of recovery and ease will soon come.
What is it that helps the poor captive to endure the gloom of the dungeon? Hope
that his release will arrive.

How beautifully is this expressed by Thomas Brown—"If we could see all the wild
visions of future deliverance, which rise, not to the dreams merely—but to the
waking thought of the galley slave, who has been condemned to the oar for life,
we would see, indeed, what it might seem madness to every heart but his, to
which these visions are, in some measure, like the momentary possession of the
freedom of which he is to be forever deprived; and in this very madness of
credulous expectation, so admirably adapted to a misery that admits of no
earthly expectation which reason can justify—we would see at once the
omnipotence of the principle of hope, and the benevolence of Him who has fixed
that principle in our mind to be the comfort of even despair itself, or at least
of miseries, of which all but the miserable themselves would despair." In all
the varieties of human suffering there are few, however, that are aggravated and
embittered by absolute despair. This blessed passion, hope, enters the scene of
sorrow with her cup of consolation for almost every lip, her precious balm for
every wound, and in the great hospital of bodily and mental maladies, passes
like a ministering angel from couch to couch, causing her own smiles to be
reflected from the countenances of her patients—and her words of consolation to
be echoed from their lips—instead of sighs and groans. How many sighs are every
day stifled, and how many tears are every night wiped away—by hope. There is no
happiness, then, which hope cannot promise, no difficulty which it cannot
surmount, no grief which it cannot mitigate. Hope is the wealth of the indigent,
the health of the sick, the freedom of the captive, the panacea for all our
wants, and the grand cure all for all our woes!

There can exist no doubt that, though this passion, like all the rest, is
implanted by God in our nature, and will be found in every human heart—yet it is
stronger in some hearts than in others. Physical organization has something to
do with all the faculties of the soul, and with the passions among the rest,
which are developed with greater readiness and force in some than in others. We
see some naturally, instinctively hopeful and buoyant—always prone to look at
the bright side of things, haunted by no specters of fear, never
despondent—while a twig remains on which the hand of hope can lay hold—and
following the least glimmering ray. Happy natures! Let those who possess them be
thankful for this precious boon of Providence. A hopeful mind is one of the
greatest blessings of life, and contributes more towards the happiness of our
existence—than rank, wealth or fame. On the contrary, there are those whose
material organization predisposes the mind to fear, timidity and despondency. In
some cases this deepens into almost settled gloom. There is no doubt that this
is incurable—as to absolute recovery. Still, even as in bodily disease,
mitigation may be obtained, where a perfect cure is not to be looked for; so in
mental tendencies arising from what are called disordered nerves, a therapeutic
treatment may be adopted, which may greatly alleviate the disorder—which it
cannot remove. The passions may all be made subject to discipline—and may be all
nurtured or repressed. It is of immense importance to know this. Mental
tendencies may be controlled. Let those who dwell only in the ’border country of
hope’—whose tendency is to despondency and gloom, and who are prone to look on
the dark side of things; who, in venturing into the shadowy regions of futurity,
rarely see anything but shapes and forms of evil; whose predictions are all,
like those of Cassandra, of evil things—learn that this state of a hopeful mind,
is more within the reach of remedies than they imagine. Let them not yield
themselves up the unresisting captives of this sad distemper. They must struggle
against this morbid tendency to fear, and gloom, and despondency. If the soil of
their nature be unfriendly to the growth of hope, they must do as good farmers
do with their bad soils—that is, bestow more skill and labor upon the
cultivation. Such ground will not, of course, be ever so prolific as better
land—but it may be much improved, and made to be remunerative. So a gloomy and
desponding mind may be greatly improved, and though it may never, even in
temporal matters, attain to the full assurance of hope—it may yet acquire a
greater measure of hope.

Despondency will grow like everything else—with indulgence. And so will hope.
Bodily health has something to do with this, and whatever can strengthen the
constitution will tend to remove a tendency to depression. Early rising, plenty
of exercise, attention to diet, constant occupation, watchfulness against the
disheartening passions of the soul—will, by the blessing of God—go a great way
towards counteracting a tendency to gloom and despondency—and strengthening a
hopeful disposition.

Even in matters of true religion, pious people are not aware how many of their
doubts and fears—their dark and gloomy states of mind—are produced by physical
derangement. Hope may be cultivated then—but the misfortune is, that they who
stand most in need of this cultivation are least disposed to undertake it. There
is a sluggishness about such people which it is difficult to rouse. It is hard I
know, to hope against hope, and requires an effort of mind, a determination of
will, which people in this state of mind are very much disinclined to make. Yet,
as it is essential to their comfort and well-being— is what they should endeavor
to accomplish. As hope from its very nature is so great and urgent a power in
the human mind, it requires—like the dynamics of mechanical force—to be placed
under a proper direction and control. When injudicious in its choice of objects,
and unrestrained in its impulses—what wild projects it has formed! What insane
schemes it has devised! And on what absurd enterprises has it adventured! How
many of its dupes, after they have blown their soon exploded bubbles, has it led
to ruin! The ’follies of hope’ might form a theme for the moralist—as well as
its ’pleasures’ to the poet. Well and wisely, therefore, should we hold the
reins of this passion.

True it is that even hope’s excesses and frustrations are better than its
extinction—but these may be avoided by a little caution. Dr. Johnson, in one of
those ingenious allegories with which he has adorned and enlivened the pages of
his ’Rambler’, has one which he calls the "Garden of Hope," in which hope is
represented as seated upon an eminence, while a vast multitude are seen pressing
on to obtain the gifts which the goddess has to bestow. Each supposing that her
smile was directed specially to himself, and triumphing in his own superiority
to others, who had conceived the same confidence from the same mistake. The
entrance to the garden was by two gates, Reason and Imagination. From the gate
of Reason there was an ascent by the hill of Difficulty, up which those who were
wise and cautious, were led by the hand of Fortitude. These received the prize
from the hand of the goddess, and were led by Wisdom to the ’bowers of Content’.
The rest who had not entered by the gate of Reason, retired with regret and
disappointment. Let us then take care that in seeking the gifts of hope, we
enter the garden by the gate of Reason. (To both Addison and Johnson I am
indebted for some of ideas in this chapter.)

Reason will lead us to take care, that the objects of our hope are worth the
pains we take to possess them. It is for a lamentation to see on what worthless
objects multitudes are exhausting their energies. What miserable trifles inflame
their desires and raise their expectations! How wise and how necessary, before
we fix our hope upon anything, is it to pause and ask, "Will it, by fruition,
remunerate me for the expenditure of time, effort and money?"

Another exercise of reason in regard to hope is, to inquire if its object is
attainable. I know that the illusion of desire is so strong, that some consider
objects within their reach—which everyone else perceives to be utterly
unattainable.

I am not unmindful that very some—either from an excess of timidity, from a
lethargic indolence, or a stupid indifference—lose opportunities for promoting
their interests which Providence has thrown in their way. They cry in idleness,
"There is no hope," and do nothing—because they expect nothing. "Expect great
things, attempt great things," is a motto, the inspiration of which has raised
multitudes from poverty and obscurity—to wealth and importance. The man who has
soul enough to hope for something great, possesses in part the means for
obtaining it.

Still, reason shows us that there is a limit to the attainableness of an
object—and a wise man will consider where the limit is fixed—and will not waste
his energies in seeking to pass it. Many have lost objects which were
attainable—in hoping for those which were unattainable—and have thus made
themselves the martyrs of disappointment, when with more wisdom and moderation
they might have been the happy partakers of success.

Great care should be taken to guard against the ’illusions of imagination’.
Addison gives a somewhat amusing but a striking illustration of this, in the
following fable—"Alnaschar was a very idle man, who never would set his hand to
any business during his father’s life. When his father died, he left him to the
value of a hundred drachmas in Persian money. Alnaschar, in order to make the
best of it, laid it out in glasses, bottles, and finest earthenware. These he
piled up in a large open basket, and acquiring a very little shop, placed the
basket at his feet, and leaned his back against the wall in the expectation of
customers. As he sat in this position, with his eyes upon the basket, he fell
into a most amusing train of thought, and was overheard by one of his neighbors
as he talked to himself in the following manner—This basket,’ says he, ’cost me
a hundred drachmas, which is all I have in the world. I shall quickly make two
hundred of it. These two hundred drachmas will, in a very little while, rise to
four hundred, which will, of course, amount in time to four thousand. Four
thousand drachmas cannot fail of making eight thousand. As soon as, by these
means, I am master of ten thousand, I will lay aside my trade of glassman, and
become a jeweler. I shall then deal in diamonds, pearls, and all sorts of rich
stones. When I have got together as much wealth as I can well desire, I will
make a purchase of the finest house I can find, with lands, servants and horses.
I shall then begin to enjoy myself, and be famous in the world. I will not,
however, stop there—but will continue my business, until I have got together a
hundred thousand drachmas. When I have got a hundred thousand drachmas, I shall
naturally set myself on the footing of a prince, and will demand the King’s
daughter in marriage. I will let him know, at the same time, that it is my
intention to make him a present of a thousand pieces of gold on my marriage.’

"Alnaschar was entirely swallowed up in this fantastical vision of ’imaginary
hopes’, when, putting out his foot, he accidentally struck the basket of fragile
glassware—which was the foundation of all his imaginary grandeur. And knocking
over the glassware, broke them into ten thousand pieces."

Few, it will be admitted, carry up this baseless structure of ’imaginary hope’
to such a height as did the self-deluded Persian. But how many, in their
measure, deceive themselves with vain imaginations! Hope, more than almost any
other passion, is addicted to this practice of "building castles in the air". It
tells a flattering tale, which credulity loves to listen to, and though its
fallacious promises have so often failed, yet as men love to be deceived, they
still hearken to its deceitful voice.

It is by no means my intention to lessen the influence—but only to guide the
operations, of this ’solace of affliction’ and ’stimulus of industry’; not to
weaken its power within the sphere of possibilities—but only to prevent its
energies from being exhausted on impossibilities. Hope is too valuable a thing
to be wasted on unattainables. It is needed for objects which may be gained by
it, and cannot be gained without it. We should guard as much as possible from
employing it on things which lie beyond our reach, since it is then sure to be
disappointed, and every fresh disappointment weakens its spring, even for
objects which may be legitimately considered as within its sphere; while every
instance of success encourages fresh exertion of hope, and leads on to other
achievements.

"If we hope for things which are at too great a distance from us—it is possible
we may be intercepted by death in our progress towards them. If we hope for
things we have not thoroughly considered the value of—our disappointment will be
greater than our pleasure in the fruition of them. If we hope for what we are
not likely to possess—we act and think in vain, and make life a greater dream
and shadow than it really is. Many of the miseries and misfortunes of life
proceed from our lack of consideration in one or all of these particulars. They
are the rocks on which the optimistic tribe of lovers daily split, and on which
the bankrupt, the politician, the scientist, and the artist are cast away in
every age. Men of warm imaginations and towering thoughts are apt to overlook
the goods of fortune which are near them—for something that glitters in the
distance. They neglect solid and substantial happiness—for what is showy and
superficial; and spurn the good which is within their reach—for that which they
are not capable of attaining."


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  CHAPTER 45: 04.02.     ON THE NATURE OF CHRISTIAN HOPE, AND
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ON THE NATURE OF CHRISTIAN HOPE, AND ITS DISTINCTION FROM FAITH AND LOVE

All Christians are not philosophers, nor is it necessary, either for their
safety or their sanctity, that they should be. Philosophy has done little for
theology but to corrupt it; and yet a sound philosophy must ever be in harmony
with a sound theology. A clear view of our mental behaviors would help us to
clearer views, if not of the doctrines of Christianity, yet of the best method
of reducing them to practice in our daily walk. A correct analysis of our
spiritual nature in all its faculties, besides the gratification which a
knowledge of the ’science of ourselves’ will never fail to impart, will be some
assistance to us in carrying forward and advancing to a higher perfection the
duties of the divine life. A philosophical view of the nature of hope, will
therefore be of some service to us in guiding its exercises.

HOPE is not a simple—but a complex passion, and consists of the desire of some
object, the expectation of obtaining it, together with that joy which arises
from both these. Its basis may be said to be desire, which may exist in
different forms, according to the degree of probability of the attainment of its
object. When there is little, if any probability, it constitutes what is termed
a mere wish. When the probability is stronger, it connects itself with
expectation, and becomes hope. And with a probability that amounts almost to
certainty, it settles into confidence. Desire, without expectation, is despair.
Expectation, without desire, is dread. Strong desire, with faint expectation, is
feeble hope. Strong desire, with confident expectation, is assurance.

These distinctions will be found to be of some service in the Christian life, as
showing what states of mind to cultivate, in order to the full enjoyment of
Christian privilege. For instance—in order to "a lively hope," it is not only
necessary to inflame desire after spiritual blessings—but also to strengthen
expectation. We must not only see that these things are necessary—but
attainable, and attainable by us; and as this persuasion of attainableness
constitutes faith, in order to strengthen hope, we must increase in faith. And
as expectation is never likely to be excited without a sense of the
desirableness of its object—if we would rouse up a lively expectation, we must
first kindle an intense desire. It is when the soul has a longing desire after
future glory, and a confident expectation of it, that it rises in hope, until it
reaches to a full assurance. The OBJECT of hope must be something good, and
something future. No one by possibility can desire what is evil—or to speak with
greater precision, what appears to be evil. Good, or apparent good, must be the
object of hope. Here, it will be perceived, it differs from faith, which may and
does believe in what is evil as well as what is good. Christian faith has
respect to all the threatenings of God, no less than to his promises—but hope
has respect only to his invitations and promises.

Hope must have respect to some future good, as the apostle has most correctly
said, "Hope that is seen is not hope; for what a man sees, why does he yet hope
for it?"—Romans 8:24. Here again it differs both from faith and love, for these
may have existence in relation to a present object. But while differing in some
views from these graces, it has a resemblance to them in others. Hope resembles
faith in regard to expectation. "Faith," says the apostle, "is the substance (or
confident expectation) of things hoped for"—Hebrews 12:1. There can be neither
faith nor hope where there is no expectation. This is an important remark as
bearing on Christian experience. Many people imagine, and it can be but
imagination, that they really believe in Christ, while they have no expectation
of salvation. This is impossible. Expectation is at once the exercise and the
evidence of faith; and faith is strong or weak according to the degree of
expectation. The same may be said of hope. And as hope touches faith on the side
of expectation, so it touches love on the side of desire. There can be no love
where there is no desire; and in proportion to the fervor of love, is the
strength and intensity of desire. This also may be said of hope.

Hope resembles these two kindred graces in another particular, and that is in
joy. We read, and I trust we feel, that there is "joy and peace in believing,"
and we read also of "the comfort of love," and the apostle speaks of "Rejoicing
in hope." Holy joy is the evidence of both faith and hope. If there be no
consolation in the troubled bosom, can there be any belief of the truth as it is
in Jesus, or a confident expectation of glory everlasting?

How beautifully do the graces of the Holy Spirit in the soul of the Christian,
like the colors of the rainbow, soften down into one another. Look at that
glorious ethereal arch, and separate the colors, if you can, by a visible line
of demarcation. The eye cannot tell where each begins and ends; and as the union
of all these forms the pure white light of day—so the union of faith, hope, and
love, though distinct graces, yet blending together, forms the piety of the real
Christian. And as these graces are similar in nature, they are harmonious in
their exercise; like certain strings of music, touch one, and the others
vibrate. They are a trinity in unity, which cannot be separated and exist apart.
We cannot really believe and not love—for "faith works by love." Nor can we love
without faith—for love is the fruit of faith, and the fruit cannot be produced
without the tree. So neither can we hope without faith—for hope is the desire
and expectation of something promised. And then see how love excites hope; for
if we love Christ, shall we not long to be with him, and that in exact
proportion as our love to him is intense? This relation to each other, and the
operation of the graces in producing, or at any rate, strengthening each other,
is beautifully described by the apostle, where he says, "Therefore, since we
have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus
Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we
now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so—but we
also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces
perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not
disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy
Spirit, whom he has given us." Romans 5:1-5 The ROOT of the other two graces is
faith. The gospel brings us the glad tidings of salvation, by the sufferings and
death of our Lord Jesus Christ. The message meets the ear, is unfolded to the
understanding, and applied to the heart by the Holy Spirit. Conviction of sin is
produced, and an earnest desire after pardon, peace, and eternal life is felt.
But this desire is not yet hope, for the poor distressed soul is in doubt and
fear of his acceptance with God. He cannot yet attain to a blissful expectation.
Wandering about in gloom and anxiety, he is yet a stranger to joy, to hope, to
love; in fact, a stranger to everything but sin, sorrow, and alarm. He desires
salvation—but dares not expect it, and therefore, of course, cannot hope for it.
Why not? Simply because he does not believe the glad news that Christ died for
him as well, and, as really, and as much, as for others. His sins are felt to be
too great to be pardoned, or there is something else necessary to obtain their
pardon. At length further light and teaching from the divine Comforter and
Illuminator leads him to see that he is included in the objects of divine mercy,
and invited to partake of its rich benefits. He believes in Christ, and now what
follows? Hope! He now expects to be forgiven—to be saved. The promise holds up
the blessing, faith believes it; hope not only desires—but looks for it. "Yes,"
says the poor distracted sinner, "I believe that God has loved me, that Christ
has died for me; that I am invited to him; and now my doubts and fears are
scattered, and I expect salvation."

Thus you see that faith believes the great object attainable, and hope desires
and expects it. It is well to see this connection between faith and hope, not
only at the outset of the Christian life—but through all its future progress.
Can I hope for any favor from one on whom I have no claim, if he has not
promised it—or does not exhibit in his character and usual conduct some ground
for my expectation—for my faith? And if he promises me, can I hope, until I
believe his promise—and if I believe, shall I not hope? This is so plain that it
scarcely needs either confirmation or illustration. Yet it is so important to
see the connection between faith and hope, that one or two examples may be here
cited.

I refer the reader to the case of Abraham in Romans 4:16, Romans 4:21. If he
will turn to the passage, he will see that, concerning the promised seed "he
believed, and against hope believed in hope." Here the faith and the hope are
proportionate. As he believed the promise—which was contrary to nature—so he
hoped for what was contrary to nature. So again it is said of Moses, "Who by
faith refused to be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter," "for he had respect
unto the recompense of reward." He believed the promise of God, and he hoped for
the things promised. Another instance of this may be seen in Paul in Romans
8:33-39; where we see the assurance of faith and the assurance of hope
connected; the one arising from the other, and both blending into one delightful
sentiment of triumphant confidence.

Some Christians complain of the feebleness of their hope, and want it to be in
livelier exercise. The object of their desires appears dim and distant, and
their expectations of it tremulous and fluctuating. Fear often prevails and
deepens into despondency. What would they give for a clearer view, and a more
animated anticipation of divine and heavenly realities—but alas! they know not
how to obtain it. They seek—but do not find it; pray—but do not get it; wait—but
it does not come. The secret is easily found. Their faith is weak. They do not
grasp the promise. They give way to their doubts, and their fears must of
necessity rise and prevail. Fear is the shadow of doubt; and hope the sunshine
of faith. Let us be more conversant with the terms of the promise and the
attributes of the promiser. Let us weigh the evidences of the truth of the word
of God, and then make ourselves familiar with his omnipotence and immutability,
and we shall be strong in hope when we are strong in faith. And now love will of
necessity follow the exercise of the other two. Can I really believe that Christ
loves me with all that wondrous benevolence which brought him from heaven to
earth; made him a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; led him to agonize
in Gethsemane, and expire on the cross for me—and not love him in return? Is
this the only exception to the rule which says, that love begets love? Shall we
not on the contrary say, and feel what we say, "We love him—because he first
loved us? And does not hope equally inflame love? When I range over the
prospects of eternal life and glory—when I survey the inheritance which is
incorruptible, undefiled, and that fades not away—when by sanctified imagination
I walk through the new Jerusalem, and see her streets of gold, her gates of
pearl, her foundations of all precious stones—when I see her glorified
population, and hear their anthems of praise, their songs of delight—when I see
the Lamb in the midst of the throne, and the river of the water of life, clear
as crystal, proceeding from it; and the tree of life on the banks of the river,
with its twelve kinds of fruits, and all this shining brightly with the glory of
God—and then say, I hope for all this; all this is my future possession—shall I
not love Him who has given me this good hope, this everlasting consolation?"

We see in all this the connection of the graces of true religion, their mutual
dependence and influence upon each other. They all spring from the same
principle of grace in the soul, and are the action of the same spiritual life.
In the tree there are the root, the trunk, the branch, the leaf, the fruit; yet
all nourished from the soil, and mutually dependent and operative. In the flower
there are the root, the stem, the petal, the fragrance; yet all sustained by the
same principle of vitality. In the human body there is the variety of organs and
limbs; yet, all united to the head, and by receiving influence from that, and
being fully "joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and
builds itself up in love, as each part does its work." So is it in the soul, and
its holy dispositions; there is variety of parts and of functions, yet unity of
construction and operation.

If we believe, there is the operation of the principle of renewing and
sanctifying grace; if we hope, there is the operation of the same principle; and
if we love, there is also the same. There are not only diversities of gifts, the
working of the same Spirit in the same church—but diversities of operations of
the Spirit in the individual Christian. Is there not something to be gathered
from this, affecting the experience of the believer, and auxiliary to his
consolation in those painful exercises of soul to which he is liable, in his
present state of discipline and probation? Seasons of gloom, depression and
doubt, do occur in the history of most Christians, and more frequently in the
life of some, than in others. Far be it from me, to write anything that would
tend to nourish those morbid conditions of the soul—and there is an injudicious
mode of treating them which has this tendency. My object is to comfort the
perturbed heart under them, and lead that heart out of its perplexities. Such a
person is sometimes troubled because he cannot find all the graces in full and
vigorous action; at other times, because he cannot find one the graces that has
specially engaged his attention. Sometimes he doubts of his state, because his
faith is weak; at others, because his hope is dull; and at others, because his
love is lukewarm. "Is it faith," says good old Gurnall, "that you have been
looking after, and it has not been heard of; well, Christian, do not presently
unsaint yourself until you have made further trial of yourself. Send out,
therefore, your spies to search for some other grace, as your love for Christ;
perhaps you will hear some tidings of this grace, though the other is not in
view. Has not your love to Christ been seen by you in such a temptation, chasing
it away with Joseph’s answer—’How can I do this great wickedness and sin against
God?’ Yes, may you not see it all the day long, either in your sincere care to
please him, or hearty sorrow when you have done anything that grieves him? in
which two veins runs the life’s blood of a soul’s love to Christ. Now, know to
your comfort, that your love manifests the reality of your faith. But perhaps
your love to Christ is lodged in a cloud. Well, then, see whether you cannot spy
no evangelical repentance leading you with the sight of your sins, as also in
firing you with revenge against them, as those enemies which drew you into
rebellion against God. Behold the grace you look for stands by you; for your
zeal against sin—which is God’s enemy—is love to God."

Now, this goes upon the supposition, which is a true one—that all the Christian
graces are in every soul that is truly saved—and that the existence of one
implies all the rest, though one may be more fully developed, or, at least, more
clearly ascertained in one person than in another, and in the same person at
different times and stages of his religious experience.

There is another thing to be observed in reference to these graces of the
sanctified mind—that they are very closely connected in their growth and decay.
We would again borrow our illustration from vegetable and animal life. When the
young sapling grows it is, in all its parts, the root, the trunk, the branch,
the leaf, the fruit; so in the human body, as to its various limbs, the increase
of one is also the increase of the other. And like this, generally, is the
process of decay. Observe the process of decline in the human frame under the
wasting power of consumption. The signs and proofs of emaciation are visible in
every part. And in other cases a diseased limb may impart disease to the whole
body. So it is in the new creature, the spiritual man, when faith grows, hope
and love grow with it; and when love decays, faith and hope will decay at the
same time.

Here again is a source of instruction, warning and caution. The Christian must
be watchful over the state and condition of his whole soul, just as a person who
would maintain good health must be attentive to all the organs of his body; not
only guard against blindness—but take care of his hearing; nor guard against
consumption—but against fever; and while he looks well to his power of walking,
not neglect the muscles of his arms, and especially be observant of diseases of
the head, and of the heart.

Ah, this is what is needed to our spiritual health—a recollection that a
deficiency of action or disease in one grace, may lead to a deficiency in
others. We should look well to the whole new nature. If one grace begins to
weaken we should instantly take alarm lest the decay extend to others, and the
whole man become weak and sickly. If our faith in Christ or Heaven grows feeble,
let us tremble lest our hope of our eternal life diminish, and we sink into an
earthly and lukewarm condition. If our love becomes lukewarm, our hope will
languish, and the decay of both will impinge upon our faith. Our spiritual life
is so fine and delicate a thing, that one deficiency left unsupplied, one little
sin unmortified, may be attended with most serious consequences. Decay is always
progressive in its tendency. A single stone falling out of a stone-wall, if the
hole be not repaired, may lead to the falling out of one stone after another,
until the whole tumble down. A single beam in a roof infected with the dry-rot
may, if allowed to remain, extend to all the timbers until the whole falls in.
Attention must, therefore, be paid to all the graces of the Spirit; for if one
be neglected the rest will suffer. But on the other hand, for our encouragement,
we may recollect that the cultivation and strengthening of one grace, is the
growth of all the rest. While we are growing in faith, we are growing in hope
and love. It is well, however, to endeavor to ascertain in which of the three
our deficiency is likely to lie, and from the deficiency in which our chief
danger is likely to arise—that we may direct our attention with especial care to
the weak parts. Just as we do in our bodily health; whatever organ or limb is
more likely than the rest to become sickly—to that we direct our chief
solicitude and care. As regards our states of heart, we have our constitutional
tendencies, our besetting sins. One Christian is more tempted to a weak faith,
another to a languid hope, and another to a lukewarm affection. We should know
our tendencies; in order to this, we should study ourselves. What science is so
valuable to us as the science of our own hearts? Yet, how few possess it! With
all the opportunities and incentives to obtain this self-knowledge which they
possess, how small is the number which make any proficiency in it! Some are
wilfully ignorant; they desire not to know their own selves—they shun
acquaintance with their own hearts. Others are carelessly ignorant; they treat
their own souls, in spiritual matters, with a thoughtlessness and levity, which
are truly pitiable. Even pious people are far greater strangers at home in
themselves, than they ought to be. The whole concern of true religion is of such
momentous importance—the great discipline and probation for eternity are of such
tremendous consequence—that nothing should be neglected which has a bearing upon
it. And how can we work out our own salvation with fear and trembling, if we do
not know towards which of the besetting sins our tendency lies.

Such, then, I mean the union and exercise of those three graces, faith, hope and
love, is the true religion of Jesus Christ. "Now," said the apostle, "abides
these three," as much as to say, amid all the changes of external
administration, after the cessation of many things, such as miracles, granted
only for a temporary purpose; and after the rejection of many things which are
the officious meddling and diverse inventions of man’s carnal wisdom—these three
graces will ever remain the soul and substance of the Gospel scheme. No change
of administration will nullify or weaken these; no devices of an ingenious and
busy superstition will supersede these; no mysticism will ever render these
’secondary matters’ in the Christian life. As long as there is a church on
earth, these three graces will remain the vital, essential, substantial elements
of true evangelical piety.

It is worthy the observation of all times, and especially of the present age,
how little is said in the New Testament about rites and ceremonies, and even of
sacraments and the Sabbath—compared with what is said about faith, hope and
love. The ritualists must go back to the ceremonial law of Moses to find their
system, and spirit, and prevailing practice; for the teaching of Christ and his
apostles relates to other and higher matters. These things, it is true, have
their place; the Sabbath and the sacraments are, indeed, inculcated—but where in
the gospels and epistles do we find the remotest hint of all that paraphernalia
of ritualism—those ’ceremonial services’ and spiritual performances—which
constitute so large a portion of the worship of the Church of Rome, and of those
who have the folly to imitate her practice, without the honesty to assume her
profession! Where do we find that all but endless enumeration of saints’ days,
fasts and festivals, which, in the corrupt Roman Church, is made the essence of
piety! How strange a contrast, does the religion of a Popish chapel, or
ritualistic church, present to that of Paul, Peter, James, or John. Surely, if
all that the Papists and ritualists prescribe as necessary to acceptable worship
be, indeed, required—how deficient is the Bible as a rule of faith and
practice—and how far short are the teachings of inspiration of what we need on
such matters for our guidance.

If faith, hope and love constitute the vital elements of true religion, and we
know they do—what a view do they afford us of its nobleness and excellence. How
clearly does it appear that it is not like the prophet’s roll, sweet as honey in
the mouth, and bitter as gall in the belly. It is no sullen stoicism, no sour
pharisaism. It does not consist in a few gloomy rites or melancholy passions, in
dejected looks, dolorous lamentations and mental depressions—but it consists in
freedom, love, peace, life and power. In its rise and origin it comes from
heaven, and is ever moving towards it. The man who pursues it lives above the
world and all its mundane delights and excellences—in converse with his own
reason and his God. He receives an influence from God which carries him back to
God. The very faculties of his soul are strengthened by it in their exercise,
and the sphere of their operation widened, and the objects of their
contemplation not only multiplied—but elevated into sublimity. By faith, and
hope, and love—he acquires a holy control over himself—achieves the noblest
victories over all that is base, sinful and worldly in his nature—and rises into
the mighty state of true godliness. By a true religion formed of these graces,
he renounces the base and unworthy ends for which the multitude around him
live—escapes the imprisonment of an abject selfishness—and by seeking to glorify
God, enters into a sympathy and fellowship with Him in the ends of his conduct
and the pursuit of his schemes.

Faith, and hope, and love, all lead his soul to God as the source of his
happiness, the model of his character, and the supreme object of his
existence—and thus unite him with the Author of his being. It is utterly
impossible that such a true religion should not beget in him the greatest
serenity and composedness of mind, and the purest and most satisfying pleasures
of soul. Each of these graces, by itself, and all united, have this effect upon
his happy spirit. His true religion is the commencement of an eternal progress
in moral excellence, for though faith and hope will cease, love will remain
forever. To this bliss he is ever carried forward by the impulses and
aspirations of hope; which, when he reaches it, will land him on a shore where
perfect and eternal felicity will arise out of a perfect and eternal sanctity.

True religion consists of faith, hope and love. It is no mere mechanical,
artificial, ritual, external thing—not the boiling up of our imaginative
powers—nor the glowing heats of passion—though these two are often mistaken for
it, when in our jugglings of religion we cast a mist before our own eyes. But
true religion is a new nature in the soul; it is a godlike nature manifesting
itself, most of all, in serene and clear minds, in deep humility, meekness,
self-denial, universal love of God, and all true goodness, without
hypocrisy—whereby we are taught to know God, and, knowing, to love Him, and
conform ourselves to Him.

I have lately met with the following parable, in prose-poetry, of the relation
and influence of Faith and Hope, which may be as instructive to the judgment,
and as useful to the heart, as it is pleasing to the imagination–

One morning as the sun arose, two spirits went forth upon the earth. And they
were sisters—but Faith was of mature age, while Hope was yet a child.

They were both beautiful. Some loved to gaze upon the countenance of Faith, for
her eye was serene, and her beauty changed not—but hope was the delight of every
heart. And the child sported in the freshness of the morning; and as she hovered
over the gardens and dewy lawns, her wings glittered in the sunbeams like the
rainbow.

’Come, my sister,’ she cried, ’and chase with me, this butterfly from flower to
flower.’ But her sister was gazing at the lark as it arose from its low nest and
warbled among the clouds. And when it was noon, the child said again, ’Come, my
sister, and pluck with me the flowers of the garden, for they are beautiful, and
their fragrance is sweet.’ But Faith replied, ’No, my sister, let the flowers be
yours, for you are young, and delight yourself in their beauty. I will meditate
in the shade until the heat of the day be past. You will find me by the fountain
in the forest. When you are weary, come and repose on my bosom.’ And she smiled
and departed.

After a time hope sought her sister. The tear was in her eye, and her
countenance was mournful.

Then faith said, ’My sister, why do you weep, and why is your countenance sad?’
And the child answered, ’Because a cloud is in the sky, and the sunshine is
overcast. See, the rain begins to fall.’

’It is but a shower,’ Faith replied, ’and when it is over the fields will be
greener than before.’

Now the place where they sat was sheltered from the rain, as it had been from
the noontide heat. And Faith comforted the child, and showed her how the waters
flowed with a fuller and clearer stream as the shower fell. And presently the
sun broke out again, and the woods resounded with song.

Then Hope was glad, and went forth to her sports once more.

After a time the sky was again darkened, and the young spirit looked up, and
behold! there was no cloud in the whole circle of the heavens.

Therefore hope marveled, for it was not yet night. And she fled to her sister,
and cast herself down at her feet, and trembled exceedingly.

Then Faith raised the child, and led her forth from the shade of the trees, and
pointed to the sun and said, ’A mist is passing over the face thereof—but no ray
of his glory is extinguished. He still walks in brightness, and you shall again
delight yourself in his beams. See, even yet his face is not wholly hidden from
us.’ But the child dared not look up, for the gloom struck upon her heart. And
when all was bright again she feared to wander from her sister, and her sports
were less gay than before. When the eventide was come, Faith went forth from the
forest shade, and sought the lawn, where she might watch the setting of the sun.

Then said she to her young sister, ’Come and behold how far the glories of the
sunset transcend the beauties of the morning. See how softly they melt away and
give place to the shadows of the night.’ But Hope was now weary, her eye was
heavy, and her voice languid. She folded her radiant wings, and dropped on her
sister’s lap, and fell asleep. But Faith watched through the night, she was
never weary, nor did her eyelids need repose.

She laid the child on a bed of flowers, and kissed her cheek. She also drew her
mantle round the head of the sleeper, that she might sleep in peace.

Then Faith looked upwards, and beheld how the stars came forth. She traced them
in their radiant courses, and listened to their harmonies, which mortal ear has
not heard. And as she listened, their music entranced her soul. At length light
appeared in the east, and the sun burst forth from the portals of the heavens.
Then Faith hastened to arouse the young sleeper.

’Awake! O my sister! awake!’ she cried; ’a new day has dawned, and no cloud
shall overshadow it. Awake! for the sun has arisen which shall set no more!’

Now what is the moral of this ingenious and pleasing parable? That faith and
hope are naturally related and inseparably united; that faith is the strength of
hope, can clear up its difficulties, chase away its apprehensions; revive its
languors, inflame its desires, and confirm its expectations. Yes, and more than
this, for it shows us that when hope falls into slumber, it is faith that
awakens it from its sleep, and points it to the rising and unsetting sun of
heaven’s eternal day. There are, however, one or two things in the piece which
are not quite correct, inasmuch as it represents hope as too young a sister, too
childish, and too earthly; for hope in Jesus and in heaven, though the younger
sister of faith, is nearly of the same age; and instead of chasing the butterfly
and plucking the flowers, gazes not only at the lark and listens to its
warblings—but looks up to the sky into which it soars. Still the beautiful and
poetic lesson is, that faith in Christ and eternal glory, sustains our hope of
both; that faith is the guardian of hope, and that when our hope wanders from
the side of faith, it must, of necessity, fall into doubt, and fear, and gloom.


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  CHAPTER 46: 04.03.     THE FOUNDATION OF HOPE
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THE FOUNDATION OF HOPE

"It is a fearful thing," says a distinguished writer, "for an immortal being to
have no hope for eternity. But it is scarcely less dreadful to have a false
hope—though it is a confident hope—which must make him who cherishes it ashamed
and confounded, world without end." Hence the necessity and tremendous
importance of looking well to the foundation on which we rest our expectations
of everlasting happiness. Every wise builder will take especial care, when he is
about to erect an edifice, that the foundation is good, and his solicitude will
be in exact proportion to the magnitude, height, and importance of the intended
structure. Our Lord closes his Sermon upon the Mount with an allusion to this,
where he speaks of the different results of building upon the sand or upon a
rock. What deep concern, then, should be felt by him whose superstructure of
hope is to rise as high as heaven, to stand against all the assaults of time,
and to last through eternity. What is a palace, a pyramid, a castle, or a
temple, compared with this? The cloud-capped towers—the gorgeous palaces— The
solemn temples—Yes, the great globe itself, With all which it inherits, shall
dissolve; And—like the baseless fabric of a vision— Leave not a wreck behind!
But the superstructure of a believer’s hope, if well based, shall outlive this
whole material frame, and at length converted into full and blessed fruition,
shall exist forever! But how dreadful the consideration that, if ill-placed—he
will see all his expectations vanish in a moment, and will sink to the depths of
despair—just when he looked for ineffable and eternal enjoyment!

Every hope must rest upon something. To desire and expect a future good without
some ground for it, is a folly men are very rarely guilty of. Though very common
is the folly, very near akin to it, of indulging in anticipations which rest
upon the sand. When we consider the object of Christian hope—its immeasurable
vastness, its infinite glory, and its eternal duration—and consider also that
this is an expectation cherished by a creature so base and so sinful as man—it
seems indeed, at first sight, a high presumption to anticipate such an eternal
destiny. To see a man guilty of a thousand sins, and depraved in his nature,
pointing up to heaven, and on to eternal glory, and hear him say, "I am looking
for all that"—is something very surprising. Surely such a man ought to look well
to the basis on which rest such high expectations. In searching for this basis,
we must be guided exclusively by Scripture. It is not what man says—but what God
says. It is not by the teaching of philosophy—but by the revelations of
Scripture, that we can come to a knowledge of this. Speculation will not do
here. Conjecture is worthless here. We know nothing about heaven itself, and can
know nothing about the way to it—but what the Bible tells us. Woe, eternal woe,
to the man who sets aside the testimony of inspiration, and ventures forward
into the darkness of the invisible world with no better light than the
glimmering candle of his own reason! While blessed is the man who, in his
progress to eternity, says, "Your word is a light unto my feet, and a lamp unto
my path," and who is guided by the light of this heaven-kindled lamp, to his
everlasting home. And what does this inspired and infallible record say? In one
short, simple, beautiful passage, which he who runs may read, the whole matter
is summarily expressed. The apostle thus commences his first epistle to
Timothy—"Paul, an apostle of Jesus Christ, by the commandment of God our Savior,
and the Lord Jesus Christ, who is our hope." The same view is presented in
another much misunderstood passage—I mean Colossians 1:27—"Christ in you, the
hope of glory." It is usual to consider the Apostle as referring to the
indwelling of Christ in the heart, forming his image there, and new-creating the
soul by his Spirit. But is the work of Christ in us, or the work of Christ for
us, the foundation of our hope? Is it Christ, subjectively or objectively, on
which we found our hope? If it be Christ in us, then our dependence is upon
something of our own. The true translation is "Christ among you," set forth
before you, exhibited to you in the preaching of the word. This rendering is
given in those Bibles which have marginal references. The Lord Jesus Christ our
hope! These few precious words deserve to be written in letters of gold, to be
engraved on every rock where mortals could read them, to have monumental pillars
erected in every abode of lost sinners and mortal men, to bear the glorious
inscription—yes, to be printed in starry characters in the sky, that men may
look upward from the sins and sorrows of time, the ravages of death, and the
extinction of their earthly expectations, and read them with raptures of
delight! Yet, since they are written on the imperishable page of Scripture, this
is unnecessary; for there they are presented in legible characters to the eye of
every man that has a Bible. The Lord Jesus Christ our hope! It is blissful to
repeat it. Yes, there is hope for lost, sinful man—and Christ is that hope. Hear
it, you children of mortality, who all your life, "through fear of death, are
subject to bondage." Hear it, you tribes of the earth, "groaning and travailing
in pain together until now." Hear it, you subjects of incurable disease, casting
longing, lingering looks behind, as you bend your steps, weak and weary, yet
reluctant, towards the gloomy valley from which none return—there is hope of
immortality—and Christ alone is that hope! This is plainly told us in another
place, "Other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is Jesus
Christ,"—1 Corinthians 3:11. So again even in the prophetic scriptures it is
said, "Behold, I lay in Zion, for a foundation, a stone, a tried stone, a
precious corner stone, a sure foundation," Isaiah 28:16. This is quoted by the
apostle Peter, "To whom coming, as to a living stone, disallowed indeed of
men—but chosen of God, and precious." But it will be necessary here to explain
in what sense Christ is the foundation of hope. "All have sinned and come short
of the glory of God"—and thus heaven is forfeited by us all. "There is none
righteous, no, not one." No man can now hope for eternal happiness on the ground
of his own obedience. Everyone has not only forfeited heaven, by his personal
transgression—but deserved hell. The fall, so far as what man can do for
himself, extinguished hope forever. The gate of Paradise above is as truly
closed and barred against him, as regards his own ability to open it, as was the
gate of Paradise on earth to Adam after his apostasy. If it be ever opened again
to the children of men, it must be done by God’s own hand. If ever the hope of
immortality be kindled in the bosom of man, it must be by God himself. His
infinite benignity desired to open the closed gates, and render heaven
accessible to guilty men. But how can he do it consistently with his truth,
which declared that death should be the punishment of sin? How can he do it
consistently with his holiness, which must demonstrate itself before the
universe, as opposed to sin, and infinitely hating it? How can he do it
consistently with his justice, which must manifest itself, by inflicting the
threatened and deserved punishment? How can he do it in harmony with the wisdom
and authority of his law? How can he do it and uphold the principles of his
moral government, and the majesty of his throne be maintained? Can he open
heaven to the aspirations, the pursuit, and the possession of the apostate race
of Adam? Will not the holy angels in heaven stand aghast when they see such
rebels entering? Will not the moral universe be perplexed by such a seeming
eclipse of God’s infinite holiness and justice—and feel as if his mercy had
demolished the throne of his majesty, and raised her seat upon the ruins of
righteousness? And yet it is a fact that God has opened the kingdom of heaven to
the children of men. How shall harmony then be restored to the seemingly jarring
attributes of justice and of mercy? The apostle explains the mystery in that
wondrous language—"and are justified freely by his grace through the redemption
that came by Christ Jesus. God presented him as a sacrifice of atonement,
through faith in his blood. He did this to demonstrate his justice, because in
his forbearance he had left the sins committed beforehand unpunished-- he did it
to demonstrate his justice at the present time, so as to be just and the one who
justifies those who have faith in Jesus." Romans 3:24-26. Glorious passage!
Wondrous language! Divine light is here seen throwing its splendor back upon the
dark shadows of the Levitical law, and all the dispensations of grace since the
fall of man; extending its illumination to the shadowy terms of the revelation
to our first parents in the garden; explaining the words of the prophet, as well
as the symbols of the priest; exhibiting the moral law given in thunder from
Sinai, in all its unviolated authority; covering with a flood of radiance the
throne of the eternal Governor of the universe; and yet at the same time
proclaiming the mercy of God in all its fullness and freeness—and thus laying
the foundation of hope for the vilest sinner upon earth.

Yes, the atonement of Christ—the real, all-sufficient, and complete atonement of
Christ—the atonement, in its true sacrificial intent, was a means of manifesting
the glory, by satisfying the claims of divine justice. This is the only doctrine
which can give meaning to Scripture, glory to God, and hope to man—without which
Judaism is an insoluble enigma—and Christianity a contradiction. This, this is
the foundation, the only foundation of a sinner’s hope, and a sinner’s
consolation. This is expressed in innumerable passages of both the Old Testament
and the New. Isaiah declared it in the verse already quoted, and in another no
less clear and explicit, where he says, "The chastisement of our peace was upon
him—the Lord has laid upon him the iniquity of us all, and by his stripes we are
healed." Jeremiah declared it where he calls him "the Lord our Righteousness."
Daniel declared it where he speaks of Messiah as "finishing transgression,
making an end of sins, making reconciliation for iniquity, and bringing in
everlasting righteousness." And Zechariah declared it where he speaks of "a
fountain opened for sin and uncleanness." In all these passages, and very many
others, is Christ set forth as the foundation of our hope—the ground on which we
are to rest all our expectations of eternal salvation! A more extended and
minute consideration of one of these passages may now with propriety be
introduced, as furnishing us with a most instructive, encouraging, and
consolatory view of the foundation of the Christian’s hope. I mean the language
of Isaiah 28:16, "So this is what the Sovereign Lord says—See, I lay a stone in
Zion, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation—the one who
trusts will never be dismayed." That this applies to Christ is certain, by its
being so used by the apostle Peter. There may be also an allusion by the
apostle, in this passage, to Psalms 118:22—"The stone rejected by the builders
has now become the cornerstone."* The force of the metaphors in all these
passages is much enhanced by the statements of modern travelers in relation to
the immense stones which the ancients were accustomed to place in the
foundations of their temples and walls, some of which are remaining to the
present day. In Robinson’s ’Palestine’, mention is made of this in reference to
the walls of Jerusalem, in which he conjectures is still found some of the
masonry of the very temple built by Solomon, consisting of vast blocks—and in
the foundations of the temple at Balbec, now for ages in ruins, stones have been
found measuring seventy feet long by fifteen thick.

* The English readers will perceive in this case, as in many others, a verbal
difference between the quotation in the New Testament and the original passage
in the Old Testament, in explanation of which it may be observed that the
writers of the former generally quote the Septuagint or Greek version of the
Jewish Scriptures, and sometimes they give neither the Hebrew nor Greek in exact
words—but in the way of substance or paraphrase.

John Howe, one of the greatest of the Nonconformist divines, published a
wonderful treatise under the title of "The Living Temple." His design is to
represent the soul of man as originally created to be a temple for an indwelling
deity—by the fall reduced to ruins—and restored by the mediation of Christ. A
long passage from this extraordinary production of sanctified genius will be
acceptable to every reader, and manifest the intellectual majesty of its author.
Speaking of the original temples, he says—"The stately ruins are visible to
every eye, that bear on their front, yet extant, this doleful inscription, ’HERE
GOD ONCE DWELT.’ Enough appears of the admirable frame and structure of the soul
of man to show the divine presence did reside in it at one time. But there is
more than enough of vicious deformity to proclaim that God is now withdrawn and
gone. The lamps are extinct, the altar overturned, the light and love are now
vanished—the one of which did once shine with so heavenly brightness, the other
burn with so pious fervor. The golden candlestick is displaced and thrown away
as an useless thing, to make room for the throne of the Prince of darkness. The
sacred incense, which sent rolling up in clouds its rich perfumes, is exchanged
for a poisonous, hellish vapor—and instead of a sweet savor there is a stench.
The lovely order of the house is turned into confusion; the beauties of holiness
into reeking impurities; the house of prayer into a den of thieves—and that of
the worst and most horrid kind, for every lust is a thief, and every theft
sacrilege. Continual rapine and robbery are committed upon holy things. The
noble powers of the soul, which were designed and dedicated to divine
contemplations and delight, are alienated to the service of the most despicable
idols, and employed unto vile imaginations and embraces—to behold and admire
lying vanities, to indulge and cherish lust and wickedness. What, have not the
enemies done wickedly in the sanctuary? How have they broken down the carved
work thereof, and that too, with axes and hammers, the noise whereof was not to
be heard in the building? Look upon the fragments of that beauteous sculpture
which once adorned the palace of the great king; the relics of holy notions; the
lively prints of some undefaced truth; the lovely ideas of things, the yet
legible precepts that relate to practice. Behold, with what accuracy the broken
pieces show themselves to have been engraved by the finger of God, and how now
they lie torn and scattered—one in this dark corner, another in that, buried in
heaps of dirt and rubbish! You come amid all this confusion as into the ruined
palace of some great prince, in which you see here the fragments of a noble
pillar, there the shattered pieces of some beauteous imagery—all lying useless
and neglected among heaps of dirt. He who invites you to take a view of the soul
of man, says to you, ’Behold the desolation’—all things filthy and destroyed.
Why is it thus? The faded glory, the darkness, the disorder, the impurity, the
decayed state in all respects of this temple too plainly show the great
Inhabitant is gone." But let us now glance at a few of the beauties of the
apostle’s vivid description of this basis of our immortal hopes.

Behold, says God, "I lay in Zion a stone." This declaration is worth worlds,
since it imports that the whole work of man’s redemption is of God’s planning,
executing, and proposing! It is no matter of human device or angelic suggestion;
the wondrous conception sprang up in the intellect and heart of God, or rather
was there from all eternity. "God so loved the world as to give his only
begotten Son, that whoever believes on him, should not perish—but have eternal
life." "He who spared not his own Son—but freely gave him up for us all, how
shall he not with him also freely give us all things?" In building our hope on
Christ, we are resting it where God has directed us to place it. It was God who
sent Christ. It was God who qualified him for his work. It was God who sustained
him through it. It was God who raised him from the dead. It was God who set him
at his own right hand. All, all is divine—and therefore all is secure. None can
be lost who place themselves on that foundation, which God himself has laid. Let
the believer rejoice in his security. Noah was not more safe in the ark which
was built under divine direction, when God shut him in, than the Christian is
who has trusted his eternal all to Christ. God guarantees his safety. He may
boldly say, "Lord, I am where you have directed me to place my foot. I have laid
hold of your hand, and I cannot perish, unless you let me go—which you have
promised never to do." And then dwell upon that word, "a stone"—not sand, which
may shift; not earth, which may sink; not wood, which may rot—but a stone, and
not a small, inconsiderable stone, which may be crushed—but a rock. So Christ
said to Peter, "On this rock will I build my church."* In Christ there is
everything to constitute an all-sufficiency to bear the hopes of his universal
church. A man resting his weary limbs, and building his hope of repose and
safety on the mightiest mountain in our globe, may as rationally fear that the
granite mass would sink beneath his weight, as the man who is building upon
Christ may fear that the basis of his expectations would fail him. This, and
this only, is rock, and all besides is sand, or mud, clay, or stubble.

* That it was not Peter’s person—but Peter’s confession, that is—the truth of
Christ’s Messiahship, that our Lord meant—is evident from his singularly
striking change of words. Peter is from the Greek word petros, which signifies
merely a stone—but petra, which is the term our Lord uses in reference to the
foundation his church, signifies a rock. As if he had said, "I build it not on
you, Peter, for you are but a stone—but upon the rock of my divine mission."
This stone is elect, chosen by infinite wisdom for the purpose, and altogether
suitable for it. The wise master-builder is careful not only to choose a good
kind of stone for his foundation—but the best of its kind. This word is
evidently intended as a translation of the Hebrew phrase, a "tested stone." All
things among men are chosen after trial. Experiments are made, when great
weights are to be suspended, or great pressure endured, whether the material
employed will be sufficiently strong for the purpose. In the present case there
needed no tentative process. The Lord Jesus was accurately known to his Divine
Father to be every way suitble for his work. As man, he was perfect, and had no
sins of his own to atone for, and had a body given to him to offer up in
sacrifice; while as God, he gave to this act of sacrifice an infinite value.
Millions upon millions have ventured to build their hopes on this foundation;
and have ever found it sufficient! All the hosts of hell, all the powers of
darkness, infidels, heretics, and philosophers—have endeavored to subvert it—but
it has defied their efforts. Not the slightest chip of this indestructible basis
have they detached from the mighty mass. Let the enlightened Christian say if he
has not tried it and found it sufficient. Let the dying believer testify and say
if he does not find enough in the prospect of eternity. Let the palm-bearing
multitude, which no man can number round the throne, bear witness, if it has not
been found upon trial, enough for their safety.

It is a chief corner stone; it is the stone in the angle of the building, on
which the two walls meet and unite, and which, therefore, gives compactness and
strength to the edifice. It is in Christ that Jew and Gentile are associated; it
is in him that all meet and become a building fitly framed and compacted
together.

Another quality mentioned is, that this stone is "precious." How true! Yes,
inestimably precious. "The Deity filling his human nature with all manner of
grace in its highest perfection, made him infinitely precious and excellent. Not
only was he thus precious and excellent in himself—but he is of precious virtue,
which he lets forth and imparts to others; of such virtue that a touch of him is
the only cure of spiritual diseases. Men tell of strange virtues of some
stones—but it is certain that this precious stone has not only virtue to heal
the sick—but even to raise the dead!" Dead bodies he raised during his abode
upon earth, and dead souls he does still raise, by the power of his word.
Precious is Christ to his Heavenly Father; precious to all angels in glory; and
who can better tell of his infinite value than those who have built upon it
their immortal hopes, and find continually how happy those are, who believe in
him. And shall I forget the other property, so strange, so seemingly unnatural,
"a living stone?" What a conspicuous place in the Scripture does that word LIFE
sustain—and especially in connection with our Lord Jesus Christ. Christ and life
seem to be almost equivalent terms—"I am the life," he said, more than once; he
is the living vine, the living head, living bread, and living water, and here is
a living stone—than which nothing seemed farther from vitality. Had there been
discovered a stone of such mysterious power, that whatever dead substances were
placed upon it should immediately be made alive—what a wonder it would be in
God’s universe! Here, in a figurative sense, is the very thing. Here is a living
stone, which not only has life itself—but imparts life to all brought into
contact with it! Our translators have unnecessarily and unwisely interpreted the
original, in application to Christ, by a participle, and in application to
believers, by an adverb, calling Christ the living stone, and Christians lively
stones; whereas it is the same word in the original in both places. They have
thus marred the beauty, and weakened the force of the passage. It is the
Spirit’s design to represent believers not only as lively—but as living—and
deriving all vitality from their connection with Christ.

Now after this description of, and enthusiastic praise upon, the foundation of
his hope—let the believer exult, as he well may, in his security. Let him see
the force of the apostle’s exhortation, "Rejoice in hope." Let him take the lamp
and go down and survey the basis of his high and glorious expectations, and
repose with confidence on the foundation which God has laid in Zion.

If this be, as we know it is, the only ground on which we can depend for
everlasting life—how vain and ruinous are all those refuges of lies to which so
many betake themselves against the wrath to come. It is a dreadful thing to be
deceiving ourselves in a matter of such tremendous importance as that of eternal
life. I will, therefore, with the intention of guarding men against this fatal
error, point out some of the PREVAILING MISTAKES on this subject.

Some are buoying up their expectations with a vague reliance on the GOODNESS of
God. They have taken up false, because partial, views of the character of God;
and abusing the apostle’s declaration "that God is love," misinterpret this
sublime description of deity, as if it implied that pure and infinite
benevolence could never consign his creatures to eternal misery. We might fairly
ask how they know that God is merciful; and if they answer that Scripture
declares it, they should recollect that the same Scripture tells them "he will
by no means clear the guilty," that if there be a thousand promises to the
penitent believer—there are a thousand threatenings against the impenitent
unbeliever. We know nothing of God’s goodness—but from the same source as we
know of his justice.

If we look to God’s Providence we see, indeed, in our own comforts many proofs
and displays of his kindness—but we see also in our discomforts many displays of
his justice. If criminals, why so many enjoyments; if favorites, why so many
sufferings? Justice, if God is a perfect moral being, must be as essential an
attribute of his nature as mercy. And "as no perfection of the divine character
can be manifested in a manner incompatible with any other perfection, even
though no revelation had been given on the subject, it must have been, to say
the least of it, so exceedingly doubtful whether such an exercise of benignity
as the pardon and salvation of a sinner, be reconcilable with righteousness, as
to make it, in the highest degree, irrational to rest a hope of final happiness
on such an unsound supposition." (John Brown)

Such people merge all God’s other attributes in his mercy. They cannot claim
originality for this idea. Its authorship belongs to the "father of lies." Satan
said so before them. It is the identical doctrine that damned the world. The
serpent said to the woman, "You shall not surely die." Do not rest your hope on
such a baseless speculation!

Others go still further in their presumption, and rest their hopes even upon the
JUSTICE of God. They may possibly be not only free from vice—but living in the
practice of many virtues. They may present a striking contrast to the infidels
and profligates around them, by all the moralities and decorum of conventional
goodness. But having altogether incorrect notions of the spirituality, extent
and obligations of the moral law, as the rule of human conduct—and false notions
of themselves as regards the state of their hearts—they imagine that their good
deeds so far counterbalance their bad ones, that it would be unjust for God to
destroy them. Their expectations of salvation rest, then, upon their own doings,
and they seek to be justified by their works. Instead of resting exclusively
upon the righteousness of Christ—they go about to establish their own
righteousness. With the fig-leaf apron of their own good deeds, and, as they
suppose, better intentions—they seek to cover their moral nakedness, and avert
the stroke of divine justice. Not a few, and especially those who are called to
endure the privations of poverty, and the various ills often connected with it,
are indulging the vain idea that having SUFFERED so much in this life, they
shall be exempted from all suffering in the eternal world, and shall, like
Lazarus, be carried by a convoy of angels to heaven. What inadequate views does
such a mistake evince of the evil nature of sin, the justice of God and the
multitude of their transgressions. No! A life as long as that of Methuselah,
spent in all the destitution and disease of Job upon the ash-heap, would be no
atonement for sin, and afford no ground to depend upon for salvation.

Church relationships and privileges, ever since the time of the Jews, who cried,
"The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, are we," have constituted a
false basis of hope to multitudes. They have been much more anxious to find the
true church, than the true Savior—and have made, in fact, the church their
savior! This is the pernicious and destructive error of the followers of
Anti-Christ. Theirs is, in their opinion, the true church—and all that are in
the true church are safe. The church guarantees the safety of her children, and
the poor deluded creatures are satisfied with her promise. And are there not
multitudes in other churches, besides that of Rome, who are indulging in the
same fatal delusion? They have been made Christians, they suppose, by baptismal
regeneration—have been acknowledged such by confirmation—have been sealed by the
Sacrament, and are thus brought within the ’true church’—so they falsely think.
And how many, in voluntary unestablished churches, are relying upon their public
profession and union with the church. Alas, alas! in how many cases is a hollow
and inconsistent profession, the sole ground of dependence for eternity! How
many have no other evidence that they are true Christians, than their profession
that they are such, backed by the admission of those who have received them to
fellowship and the table of the Lord. This admission is considered and used by
them as a certificate of saving religion, the badge of discipleship, which, as
it has received the seal of the minister of the church on earth, will not be
disputed as a passport to the church in heaven! I pen these lines with a deep
and sorrowful conviction that I am describing the melancholy condition of large
numbers in all our churches, who find their counterpart in those of whom our
Lord speaks, "Not everyone who says to me, ’Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom
of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many
will say to me on that day, ’Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and
in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them
plainly, ’I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’" Matthew 7:21-23.

These dreadful words should sound through the whole church with the solemnity
and impressiveness of an alarm bell. What a salutary fear and trembling they
should awaken! To what a close and anxious examination they should lead!
Mistaken professors are going by myriads to the bottomless pit! Myriads and
myriads are walking to eternity over the rotten plank of a ’formal and insincere
profession’, which will break beneath their feet and let them fall into the
burning gulf below! I will never cease to sound the note of warning to these
deluded professors. For not only is it a dreadful thing to go down to the pit
with a lying profession, but a possible thing! Not only is it a possible case,
but a common one! "MANY will say to Me on that day!"

Perhaps there is a still more subtle, if not more dangerous deception than even
this, and that is, the case of those who are relying upon the religious
exercises of their own minds for their salvation. They renounce all dependence
upon their external works—but are relying upon their internal state. Some are
laying hold of their orthodoxy, the clearness of their views, the correctness of
their knowledge, the scripturalness of their opinions. Sound doctrine we know is
important, it is the source of all pious feeling, and all holy conduct—but apart
from pious feeling and holy conduct, will no more save us than correct notions
of astronomy or geography. It is not the ’doctrine about Christ’ we are to
depend upon—but Christ himself! Then there is with some, a reliance upon ’their
act of faith’. It is a faith in their own belief, rather than a belief in
Christ, they look to. Their object of faith is their own faith. Their faith does
not lead them to Christ—but stands between them and Christ. They forget that we
are not saved for our faith—but by it.

Perhaps this is the most subtle working of unbelief of all. People of an
imaginative, sensitive, or emotional character, are prone to rest their hope on
their feelings. Their feelings are the barometer that indicates their
confidence, which rises and falls with emotional pressure. If lively in prayer,
if rapturous in joy, if profuse in tears, if strong in impression—they are full
of hope. But, with the least variation of feeling—they are all doubt, fear, and
despondency. They little consider, for they little know, how much all this
depends upon the state of another barometer than that which they hang up in
their own variable feelings. This is a very insidious and seductive method of
keeping our soul from the true foundation. There is no more merit in our
emotions, than in our actions; and we have no more warrant to depend upon the
former than we have upon the latter.

Christ outside of ourselves, and apart from ourselves—is the ONLY foundation.
And we must go out of ourselves, and away from ourselves, to depend upon him. It
is for lack of seeing this in the early stages of religious concern, that so
many are kept so long in a state, in some cases, of delusive peace—and in
others, of unrelieved anxiety. And it is to this also, that real believers, true
Christians, are to trace those perturbations of mind, those alternations of hope
and fear, elevations and depressions, to which, to their great distress, they
are so liable. Did they but keep their eye steadily fixed on Christ, and less
microscopically upon their own feelings—their peace would be less disturbed, and
their joy far more settled and abundant! And let it here be distinctly
understood, and ever remembered, that nothing can alter, add to, or diminish
this foundation. Could the believer live on earth to the age of Methuselah,
could he fill these nine centuries with the most unblemished holiness, the
richest Christian experience, the most zealous labors, and the most diffusive
charities—all this would not add a single stone, or a particle of strength, to
Christ, the sure foundation. Even then, his dependence for salvation must be as
exclusive and entire upon Christ as at the first moment when he came to him for
pardon; or as that of the dying thief upon the cross, who had not a single good
action on which to place any dependence. And the real Christian knows and feels
this. As he is closing the long series of holy actions which have filled up his
life, as he looks back upon the past now about to be lost in the eternal future,
and is standing upon the threshold of his "Father’s house," and expects every
moment the door to open, he exclaims with gratitude and humility, "Lord Jesus,
into your hands I commit my spirit, for you have redeemed me. My hope—my only
hope—is in you" But there is another thing to be taken into account when
speaking of the foundation of Christian hope, and that is THE PROMISE OF GOD.
How is it we are able to assure ourselves that we can build upon this basis of
the Savior’s infinite merits? If I know that an individual has done something
for my future benefit in common with the welfare of many others, I still want
his assurance that I shall reap the advantage of what he has done. Hence though
we believe that Christ died as a ransom for all, and is the propitiation for the
sins of the whole world, yet I need his positive assurance that I shall reap the
advantage of this wondrous work of mediation. I have it—"He who believes, and
whoever believes, shall be saved." It is not a probability or a ’perhaps’—but a
positive certainty. God has said it. A thousand promises declare it. The skies
of the New Testament are studded with them. They come out upon our view thick
and shining like the stars of heaven on a clear and cloudless night. The design
of the death of Christ was to make an atonement for sin; and God’s promise is
that each individual believer, shall partake of the blessed result of these
sufferings of Christ. Here is the ground of our expectation; and in speaking of
this expectation, the promises of God must always be united with the merits of
the Savior. And even this is not all, for we must have an entire faith in the
power, and unchangeableness, and faithfulness of God to fulfill his promise.
Notwithstanding the atoning death of Christ, notwithstanding the promise of God,
if we could doubt the divine power, fidelity, and immutability, we would still
find we had no solid base on which to rest our expectations of eternal life. Now
again we say—look at your foundation, the atoning sacrifice of the Son of God,
the promise of God, who cannot lie, and the infinite attributes of the divine
nature, and "Rejoice in hope of the glory of God."


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  CHAPTER 47: 04.04.     THE OBJECT OF HOPE
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THE OBJECT OF HOPE The exercise of hope necessarily supposes an object. We could
as soon conceive of an effect without a cause, as a hope without an object. It
means, as we have shown, the desire and expectation of something which the mind
apprehends at the time to be both desirable and probable. It is the soul’s act
in coveting, reaching after, and looking for—something future and something
good. Now what is the OBJECT of Christian hope?

Viewing it in its widest latitude of meaning, hope may contemplate, and be
considered as exercised in regard to, many things, even in this world. Any
future good yet to be possessed and enjoyed in reference to our religious state
and well-being, may be an object of hope. Is some important and difficult duty
to be performed at a future time? It is an object of hope—to be enabled by
divine help to discharge it. Here is something good, something future, and
something to be both desired and expected. Or is some affliction seen looming
with portentous form and aspect, in the distance? Then to be sustained under it,
and carried through it, is a future good to be desired and expected—and is
therefore an object of hope. Or is there the appearance of some spiritual good
of any kind seen in futurity, and some ground to expect it? Here also is an
object of hope. In short, in this view of the matter, hope runs through the
whole course of our spiritual as well as our natural life.

It is in this reference the word is generally, if not universally, used in the
Old Testament. The future state, though not totally unrevealed under the Mosaic
economy, was touched upon with extraordinary reserve, rarely proposed as an
object of hope, and as rarely employed as a motive to righteous conduct. In the
Jewish Theocracy, which was in fact an earthly government, administered by God
as its political sovereign, temporal and national blessings, and immediate
divine interpositions for bestowing them, were the objects of the hopes of the
Jews as such. Hence, see the language which will be found in Hosea 2:5-9, and
very many other passages of the prophets. It is true GOD is said to be their
hope—but this means that their desires and expectations of future good things
rested on his promise and perfections. I do not say that the pious and
intelligent Jew had no hope of eternal glory. I believe he had—but I mean that
the hope spoken of in the Old Testament generally referred not to this—but to
temporal benefits. The object of the Christian’s hope, so far as earth and time
are concerned, is a redeemed, regenerated, holy, happy world. It is for this he
longs, and prays, and labors—and this he confidently expects, because God has
promised it—here is the foundation, and justification, and encouragement, of all
his efforts for the conversion of the nations to Christ. All our Missionary
Institutions are based upon this hope. This is the spring of all our energies,
and the stimulus of our labors. This sustains us under sacrifices and
self-denial, discouragement and defeat, delay and disappointment. We have God’s
command as our warrant; God’s promise for our support; God’s glory for our end;
and God’s approbation for our reward. Amid the restless tides, the perpetual
vicissitudes, and the mighty revolutions of human affairs, we go on with our
missionary enterprise, assured we shall not labor in vain. It is a work of
faith, a labor of love, and therefore we carry it on with the patience of hope.

But, after all that has been said on these objects, the Christian hope, that
which is so frequently spoken of by the apostles in their writings, has respect
to something ulterior, to something above our earth, and beyond the range of
time. It penetrates the veil that conceals the unseen world, and lays hold of
the invisible realities of eternity. Hope is one great part of the life of true
religion; and religion, while it imposes many obligations, and confers many
blessings upon earth, points heavenwards. It is a messenger from Paradise come
to fetch us there, and which bestows many favors upon us by the way.

1. In this relation, the first object of Christian hope is an entrance into
heaven immediately after death. I am aware that this is neither the only nor the
highest object of Christian desire and expectation; and that, of course, the
felicity of the Christian in his disembodied state is not complete; and also
that less is said about his death and entrance into glory, than about the day of
Christ’s second coming, and the scenes of that glorious advent. Yet something is
said about it, and therefore something should be thought about it. Be it so,
that our felicity is not complete until the resurrection morning, and that the
revelation of Christ is the event to which the sacred writers direct our
attention; yet, is it nothing to throw off the burden of the flesh? Nothing to
be done with sin and sorrow, care and fear, labor and weariness, disease and
death? Nothing to have passed through the dark valley, and to arrive safely in
the kingdom of light and glory! The apostle’s mind, at any rate, appears to have
been much taken up with the idea of his going to heaven at his death, when he
said, "For me to die is gain—I have a desire to depart and be with Christ. We
are confident, I say, and willing to be absent from the body, and present with
the Lord." Our Lord, who attached great importance to this, directed the
attention of his people to it, where he says, "Be faithful unto death, and I
will give you a crown of life." So did his beloved apostle in that precious
declaration, "I heard a voice saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead who
die in the Lord."—Revelation 14:13. That the believer continues a conscious
existence after death until the resurrection, and enters upon his eternal repose
immediately after dissolution, is evident from the language of the apostle just
quoted. For would not everyone, unbiased by ’doctrinal systems’, conclude from
his language that he hoped to be with Christ immediately on his departure, and
that, in fact, he desired his departure purposely to be with him? Had he not
expected this, would he not rather have desired to remain? For surely he must
have thought it better to live and labor for Christ, than lie in an unconscious
state in the grave. No, if this were not the case, would not his decease be a
going away from that presence of Christ which he enjoyed upon earth? How could
he be absent from the body at all, if the soul were to sleep with it until the
resurrection? Nothing can be clearer or more certain than that the apostle
thought he would, at his death, go to heaven.

Neither our reason, nor our experience, nor our observation, can enable us to
comprehend, or even conjecture, how our disembodied spirits will exist and act
separated from their earthly companion, the body. Whether, indeed, they are pure
spirit, we can hardly say, some being of opinion that God only is this, and that
even angels have some material dwelling; and if our souls are pure spirit we
cannot conceive what relation they have to space; and how they communicate with
each other. These, and many other questions, such as the place of their
residence, their occupations, and the means of communion, which our inquisitive
curiosity and a fruitless speculation might ask, and which no divinity or
philosophy could answer, may sometimes engage and perplex the thoughts of
believers. The better way is not to allow these difficulties to occupy our
thoughts at all; to put them aside, and to be satisfied, as Paul appears to have
been, with this one idea, that "we shall be ever with the Lord." We need not ask
how we shall see him without bodily eyes, or hear him without the organs of
sound. Do we not sometimes realize his presence now? Are there not, seasons when
we can no more doubt that we are in communion with him than we can doubt our own
consciousness? Yet we see him not, hear him not, touch him not. It is a purely
mental exercise; it is the thinking power alone that is engaged. No bodily organ
is employed, no sensation is transmitted to the soul along any nerve to the
brain. It is a mental presence, and a mental bliss. If the soul is not out of
the body, which of course it is not, it is acting without the bodily senses, and
though an unhealthy state of the brain would prevent these exercises of thought,
yet this does not prove that the soul is so dependent upon the brain for its
operations, that it cannot act without it.

Still I admit that though perfectly happy, as far as it can be in a disembodied
state, it is not, until the resurrection, in a perfect state of its full and
final bliss.

2. But the supreme object of Christian desire and expectation is that which the
apostle has set forth in his epistle to Titus, "Looking for that blessed hope,
and the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ," Titus
2:13. Before we come to the consideration of my design in bringing forward this
passage, I will give a brief exposition of its meaning, so far as it contains a
description of the person of Christ.

Christ, then, is to appear. He is now the object of BELIEF—He is hereafter to be
the object of VISION. We are now blessed in believing on him—we shall hereafter
be more blessed in seeing him. We are not, to imagine that this contradicts his
language to Thomas, when he rebuked him for his incredulity in the following
language—"Thomas, because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those
who have not seen, and yet have believed."—John 20:29. Our Lord is not here
comparing believing with seeing—so much as speaking of the different degrees of
faith. Happy, or worthy of commendation, are they who have not seen, and yet
have, upon credible evidence, believed. There were some of the apostles, or
other people perhaps, who, calling to recollection Christ’s own predictions,
had, upon the report of others, believed that he was risen from the dead—while
Thomas demanded the evidence of his senses. Their faith was much stronger than
his, and more entitled to commendation. From hence it seems probable that there
might have been somewhat of boasting on the part of Thomas, in his speech on the
evening of the resurrection, as if he were a man of too strong an understanding
to be easily imposed upon. He would not believe that his Master had risen on
such trivial evidence as the reports of the women—nothing would satisfy him but
visual demonstration. And while our Lord praised those among the disciples who
had believed credible report—full well knowing that through all future ages
faith must be grounded on the evidence of authentic testimony, and not on that
of the senses—he intended to bestow his commendation on all who would from that
time believe on him through the inspired report of his witnesses. His language,
therefore, is not a comparison between the blessedness of believing and seeing,
as if there were more happiness in the former than in the latter; for then the
least believer on earth would be more blessed than the highest apostle in
heaven. It is simply an commendation on all those who, until the coming of
Christ, instead of demanding the evidence of sense, or more proof than God has
given us of the mission of his Son—would, with meekness, humility, and candor,
yield to that which he has given us. It was for our encouragement these gracious
words were spoken. We have not seen him—but we have abundant evidence that he is
what he said he was, the Son of God; that he did what it is said he did, died
for our offences, and rose again for our justification—and therefore in him whom
we have not seen, we believe; and believing him, we love him, and rejoice with
joy unspeakable and full of glory.

Oh, no—we cannot put believing above seeing. There is joy and peace in
believing, just as there is joy in the well-authenticated report that some dear
friend or relative, who is pursuing our interests abroad, is alive and
well—remembers us, and will soon return to us. Every letter that brings glad
tidings of his love, and activity, and purpose of coming back, gives us delight.
Believing is in this case, a happy state of mind—but what is this to the bliss
of seeing him, of beholding him in full prosperity and health, of feeling
ourselves in his arms, hearing his voice, and beholding his smiles! Those only
can conceive of such raptures who have experienced them.

Yes, and so it will be in regard to Christ. We do rejoice in faith. To believe
what is testified of Christ, must be followed with unutterable joy, when that
faith is intelligent and strong. We do not wonder the apostle should say,
"Rejoice in the Lord always, and again, I say, rejoice!" But what is this to the
vision of the Savior? Old Jacob rejoiced in the report which his sons brought
him of Joseph’s state and splendor in Egypt—but what was this compared with the
almost overpowering rapture of seeing his glory, and feeling his arms clasping
him to his bosom? What deep and solemn emotions are produced by the emblems of
Christ’s broken body in the supper of the Lord. How highly, susceptible minds,
which are much under the power of imagination, profess to be moved by the
masterpieces of painting. Yet these, with the exception of Raphael’s picture of
the Transfiguration, and a few others setting forth the Last Judgment, generally
relate to the scenes of his humiliation. But what artist can ever attempt to
rise to the glorious appearance of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ? It
were almost blasphemy to attempt it; and though it may seem like an expression
of vandalism to say it, yet I am sometimes inclined to wish that the arts had
left the person and work of Christ outside their circle of objects—as too sacred
or too grand for pictorial representation. The sculptor may portray in marble,
and the painter on canvass, the humanity of Christ—but they cannot exhibit to
the senses the divinity with which it is mysteriously united. They may delineate
the outward cross on which that humanity was nailed—but they cannot set forth
the inward agony of soul, of the divine sufferer. They may give vivid expression
to the passion of grief and the virtue of patience which the countenance
exhibits—but not the divine power by which they are sustained. They may excite
our sympathies—but by all their genius can do nothing to strengthen our faith.
So that all their images and their pictures, however they may gratify our taste,
do very little to increase our knowledge and invigorate our hope. It is the
inspired detail of all this, as recorded by the sacred writers, that alone can
answer these ends.

We have only to believe, and hope, and wait, and the divine reality of a
revealed Savior shall be exhibited to the senses of the body of the
resurrection. In what magnificence of language, in what splendor of imagery, in
what sublimity of thought—have the sacred writers set forth this stupendous
event of the second advent of Christ. I will here collate, and hope the reader
will turn to them—a few of the passages in which this is bought before us. Our
Lord himself begins the description—Matthew 25:31; the apostles follow—1
Corinthians 15:1.; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; Colossians 3:4; 2 Thessalonians
1:7-10, 2 Thessalonians 2:8; 2 Peter 3:10-13; 1 John 3:2; Revelation 1:7,
Revelation 1:20-22.

I enter not on the controverted subject of his pre-millennial or post-millennial
coming. In whatever sense it is understood, the coming of Christ is the supreme
object of the Christian hope, as set forth in the New Testament. Alone and apart
from all the events that stand connected with it, no Christian mind can be
insensible to its profound and absorbing interest. Were it possible to call from
the grave any of the great geniuses that have adorned, blessed, and elevated our
common nature—what intense interest would they excite. Would not scholars travel
to the ends of the earth to see Homer or Virgil; philosophers to see Plato,
Socrates, Bacon, or Aristotle; poets to see Shakespeare, Milton, or Dante;
mathematicians to see Euclid, Newton, or Pascal?

And, coming from the world to the church, who that could possessed the means,
would not cross oceans and continents to see Abraham or Moses, Daniel or Isaiah,
Paul or John, Luther or Cranmer? But what are any of these but stars of various
magnitudes to the sun? Let any one ponder the expression—THE GLORIOUS APPEARANCE
OF OUR GREAT GOD AND SAVIOR! What a sublimity is in the idea! The manifestation
of the Creator of the Universe! The manifestation of the Redeemer of a lost
world! The manifestation of Him who unites in his one person the uncreated
glories of the Godhead, and all the milder beauties of the perfect man. In that
one ineffable manifestation, to have the controversies of all ages about the
person of Christ settled beyond the possibility of doubt or dispute—to have it
made plain to every mind, that he is indeed the great God as well as our
Savior—to see thus before us in full-robed majesty—for the confusion of his
enemies, and the consolation of his friends—the God-man!

Such is the ultimate hope of the believer, and well might the apostle call it
the blessed hope; an adjective that expresses, and but feebly expresses—for what
can fully express—all the happiness it even now imparts to those who indulge it;
much less that which will be enjoyed when this desired and expected good will
realize it, and the soul shall enjoy the full fruition of it. The second advent
of Christ is the great object of Christian hope, about which far more is said in
the New Testament than about the believer’s entrance at death into heaven. In
connection with the appearance of Christ, will be the RESURRECTION of the dead.
It is probable that Christians dwell too little on this grand article of their
belief, and are taken up too exclusively with the soul and its heavenly bliss.
It is conceded that the body is an inferior part of our complex nature. But, it
is a part, and as truly the workmanship of God as the soul. It is the most
exquisite material organism in the universe, and an essential part of our
manhood. Man is not man without it. Christ died to redeem the body as well as
the soul, and as the purchase of his blood, it has, on that account, a great
value. It was formed to be a habitation, yes, a temple of the soul, and though
smitten into ruin and desolation by death, it is to be rebuilt in a more
glorious form at the resurrection. "Christ," says the apostle, "is Lord both of
the dead and the living." He has established his throne upon the sepulcher, and
stretched his scepter over the domain of the King of Terrors, who is his vassal
prince. He owns, watches, and guards the sleeping dust of his saints. Hence we
may with comfort yield up in death not only our spirits—but our poor bodies,
into his hands, and say with our poet—

God, my Redeemer, lives, And often from the skies, Looks down and watches all my
dust, Until he shall bid it rise. And with equal comfort may we yield up the
bodies of our friends to his keeping until the morning of the resurrection. Does
not this strip the grave of part of its terrors, and invest the tomb with a kind
of sanctity? It is not a prison where the body is incarcerated—but a chamber,
where it sleeps under the guardian care of its Redeemer. The apostle has said
more about the body as a separate part of our nature than even about the soul.
Who can read that wondrous chapter in the epistle to the Corinthians without
astonishment and delight?—a chapter which proves its own inspiration. Whence—but
from heaven, had this Jew such ideas, so far beyond all that Cicero ever knew,
or Plato ever taught, or ever Moses or Isaiah revealed? With the heathen
philosophers the resurrection of the body was thought to be not only
impossible—but undesirable even if it were possible. They had a notion that
matter (as distinguished from spirit) was essentially and incurably evil, and
that, therefore, a resurrection would be a curse and not a blessing. Hence we
find that when Paul preached this doctrine at Athens, the philosophers made him,
on this account, the object of their ridicule. From his address to the
Corinthian church we learn that some of its members had drunk into this error,
and considered that the resurrection signified not a material quickening of the
dead body—but a spiritual quickening of a dead soul. Others of the first
Christians held the same notion, as is evident from what he says of Hymenaeus
and Philetus. This opinion is still professed, I believe, by the followers of
Emanuel Swedenborg. To confute this notion, or at any rate the general opinion
that there is no resurrection of the dead, is the design of the elaborate and
conclusive argumentation in the chapter to which I have just alluded—an argument
which the apostle founded on the resurrection of Christ—HE lived, died, and rose
again, not as a private—but public person, the representative of his people; so
that if he rose, they will also rise. Their resurrection is involved in his.
Hence he commences the chapter with, not only an assertion of Christ’s
resurrection—but a summary of the evidence of it.

How is it, then, that Christians do not more frequently dwell on this grand and
delightful truth? One reason, perhaps, is its mysterious nature, and most
mysterious it is—how a body, which at death, is dissolved into all its simple
elements, and which elements may be taken up to form grass, flowers, trees,
fruits, the bodies of animals, yes, of other men—can be raised again, so as to
be in any sense the same body, transcends all human conception. And yet it must
be in some sense the same body, or its re-existence would be a creation, and not
a resurrection. Yet it cannot be the same body, as regards its numerical
particles, for the body is ever in a state of change, and the body we now
possess is not, as to the numerical particles of which it is composed, the same
as it was seven years ago; yet, as to identity, it is still the same body. What
then will constitute its identity? No philosophy, no divinity can penetrate the
mystery. The apostle, in answer to the cavil, "With what body do they come?"
answers analogically by a reference to the grain sown, which dies before it
rises into the blade and the ear. But this was not so much intended to explain
the mystery, as to answer an objection. The cavil was, "How can a dead body
become a living one?" The thing seems an impossibility. "Look," says he, "at the
grain of corn cast into the earth, is there not death before life there?" If you
had never known or heard of the process of germination and vegetation, and had
never seen the growth of a plant, would you not, when you saw the grain cast
into the earth, when you saw it decay and turn to dust, deem it altogether
improbable that it would in any form ever rise put of the ground? Yet, says the
apostle, this does take place, and this should remove all objections against the
idea of the resurrection of a dead body. There is an analogy, an imperfect one,
it is admitted, and the main objection in one case would also be equally against
the acknowledged and indisputable fact in the other. The apostle does not draw a
parallel between the two cases, for they are not parallel. The whole of the
grain does not die, there is a germ—but we know of no such living,
indestructible germ in the human body which is preserved from the power of the
last enemy. And then this resurrection of the grain is by slow degrees of
vegetation, whereas the body is raised at once perfect and glorious. The
argument is altogether of a popular character, and must not be pressed too far.
The objection was, that the holy died and returned to dust and could not rise
again. Paul says in reply—You may make the same objection to the grain that is
sown, that dies also. The main body of the kernel dies. In itself there is no
prospect that it will spring up. The analogy may be carried a little farther
than this, and be intended also to set forth, as far as such and illustration
can go, the greatness and beauty of the change that will take place in the body
by the resurrection. Look at the blade of wheat; see it in all the elegance of
its form; the cylinder and joints of its stem; the freshness of its verdure; the
gracefulness of its blade; the richness of the ear and crown of its berries—and
compare all this with the grain from which it sprang, when in a state of decay
in the earth—and then see a faint emblem of the change to be made in our poor
frail bodies by the resurrection. Now consider what the apostle has said on this
subject—

"It is sown in CORRUPTION," even while alive it is subject to painful,
loathsome, and wasting disease; and when dead it falls under the process of
putrefaction, and sinks into a state of dissolution and dust. But it is raised
imperishable—unsusceptible to pain, disease, decay, and disorganization.

"It is sown in DISHONOR"—corruption itself is dishonor; it requires covering and
concealment before it descends to the grave, to hide its deformities and
defilements. And when dead, it is hurried off to the grave, as too offensive for
the fondest eye to look upon. But it shall be "raised in glory," for the apostle
tells us, "our citizenship is in heaven, from whence we look for the coming of
our Lord Jesus Christ, who shall change our vile body (the body of humiliation,)
by the mighty power whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself."—Php
3:21. Can the idea of glory itself be carried higher than to be like Christ? See
him transfigured on Mount Tabor, when his face shone as the sun, and his
clothing glittered with a purity whiter than the snow, and he was one blaze of
splendor. We are to be raised like that!

"It is sown in WEAKNESS." In life it is feeble, soon weary, needing sleep, food,
medicine, to keep it in working condition at all—often unfit for its occupation,
and pressed down first by infirmity and then by age—and at last worn out, unable
to resist the approach of death, and dropping into the grave. But it is "raised
in power," it shall be lifted above the frailties of humanity, no longer be a
clog to the soul—but wings to the soul, needing no more sleep, or food, or
renovating treatment—but nerved with the vigor of immortal youth, and capable of
the service of God without weariness or languor.

"It is sown a NATURAL" or "animal body." It now possesses a lower physical life
like the brute animals—has animal instincts, passions, propensities, and
appetites, and thus corresponds with the inferior creatures; it is supported in
the same manner, and is, like them, subject to the law of mortality. But it is
"raised a spiritual body," from which the lower animal life will be extruded,
and a new kind of physical existence introduced. It will still be a material
body—but, not an animal one. Its organic structure will be entirely changed.
Some of its base senses will probably be extinguished, some of its purest ones
retained, such as sight and hearing, though how this can be without its present
material organization is now a mystery. Other senses, of which we can now have
no more conception than the blind has of colors, or the deaf of sounds, will be
added. In short, "the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and
the mortal with immortality!" Oh, the glorious sublimity, the mysterious
magnificence, the rapturous incomprehensibility of these two words, as applied
to the body—IMPERISHABILITY and IMMORTALITY! We can enter but a little way into
the poet’s words— My flesh shall slumber in the ground, Until the last trumpet’s
dreadful sound; Then burst the chains with sweet surprise, And in my Savior’s
image rise!

It is to this the apostle’s lofty language applies, where he says, "Now we know
that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God,
an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan,
longing to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed,
we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are
burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our
heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life."—2
Corinthians 5:1-4. What an expression, "mortality, swallowed up of life!" Our
little, feeble, short-lived self, body and soul, absorbed in an ocean of eternal
life! Nor ought we to consider our own resurrection, apart from the resurrection
of the whole redeemed family, as the exclusive object of hope. At the coming of
Christ, the reign of the King of Terrors will come to an end; the iron scepter
which he has swayed for so many centuries shall drop from his hand; he shall be
deposed from his throne; and he himself, the last enemy, shall be destroyed.
Death itself shall die! Then shall come to pass the saying, "Death is swallowed
up in victory." The countless multitudes of believers of every age, shall come
forth from their graves, when the living saints, in a moment, at the last
trumpet, in the twinkling of an eye, shall be changed—and the unimagined,
unimaginable multitude ascend to meet the Lord in the air!

Such is the object of the Christian’s hope, as regards the resurrection of the
body. Faith may and does believe it. Hope may and does desire and expect it—but
imagination’s utmost thought, its most adventurous and brilliant conception,
dies away, and confesses the feebleness of its effort. The ’wing of
imagination’, after a few fluttering attempts to rise, droops—and piety hears
and obeys the voice which says, "Wait, and you shall see!" In that day of
consummation, that "bridal of the soul," the redeemed man will stand complete,
glorified in body and soul—a fit inhabitant of a world of glory! How joyfully,
exultingly, and triumphantly, will the blessed spirit re-enter its material
habitation—then transformed from a poor, dilapidated, mud-wall cottage—into a
glorious mansion, a sacred temple, a royal residence, a house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens. O, what awaits this humanity of ours! How death
and the grave lose their terrors in this glorious prospect! How wonderful that
the world should not lose its power over us—by the superior attractions of this
scene of transcendent and incomparable glory. But more is yet to be told; and
all may be summed up in that word of mysterious meaning, of unfathomable bliss,
and of inconceivable glory—HEAVEN. This is the expression and summation of all
the believer hopes for beyond the gave. This is the word which sheds such a
luster on the page of the New Testament, and distinguishes it so illustriously
from the Old. But where—and what is it? Over one part of this question the veil
of silence is dropped by the hand of God, as it is over many other subjects; for
"it is the glory of God to conceal a matter." Many would have felt it a
satisfaction had the Savior, when he spoke of his Father’s house with its many
mansions, told us the precise region of our eternal home— so that looking out on
the starry skies we might have been able to fix on the sun, the moon, or some
planet, and say, "Yonder it is! Yonder is the world to which the spirits of my
fathers have already gone, and to which I myself, before long, am going!" How
delightful it would have been, we are ready to think, to be able every day, or
every night, to look up and see the light of our Father’s dwelling, just as a
child in his journeying home from school can see his paternal home stand out
conspicuously in the landscape. But this cannot be. It would not harmonize with
the gospel scheme, which requires that from beginning to end we should live by
faith, and not by sight. We are to see nothing while on earth—but believe
everything. Just as when we reach heaven, we shall see everything, and accept
nothing by faith.

It is no concern where heaven is—since we know what it is. Location is a small
item in its bliss. We feel that now. The faithful wife would sooner dwell with
her loving husband in a cottage than be separated from him in a palace. The
affectionate child pines in a mansion for the home of his parents, though that
is a scene of comparative poverty. Location has infinitely less to do with
happiness on earth, than the domestic and social relationships, ties, and
affections. Still, we doubt not, that even heaven’s location will be a part of
heaven’s glories. God "is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has
prepared a city for them." There is, perhaps, something more than figure in the
ravishing description of the New Jerusalem, in the last two chapters of the
Revelation. Not that for a moment we contend for an exact literalness in that
dazzle of material splendor. But it may still be considered as intimating, in
some degree, the visible glory of the residence of the redeemed family. But what
is heaven? What is it, in turning the eye of hope to the future world—we are to
desire and to expect? Here again, we say, God is silent about many things. "It
does not yet appear what we shall be." Many subjects cannot be revealed. We
might as well attempt to explain to an infant prince, his future state and glory
as the powerful monarch of a mighty empire—as to explain to a child of God on
earth all his future honor and bliss in heaven! There are felicities and
occupations in heaven, for which we have no terms, and no ideas. But how much is
told us. Our Lord has summoned it all up in that most sublime and comprehensive
of all phrases, "ETERNAL LIFE"—everlasting existence, with all that can render
it an eternal blessing. It is life, intellectual, physical, spiritual, social—in
absolute perfection—and all this forever! Such life, that compared with it, all
we have known of life here, deserves the name of death, rather than life.
Eternal life is so full, so rich, so abundant, as to exclude all pain, all care,
all fear, all gnawing hunger, and parching thirst, all wearisome labor! In
short, the body and soul to be so free from all the least interruption of
enjoyment, as that through eternity there shall never be a moment when there
shall not be a fullness of joy; when the happy immortal shall not be able to
say, "THIS IS LIFE!" Even the very ’negative descriptions’ ascribed to the
heavenly state, seem to make a paradise of themselves. Knowing to our regret
what we now are—as regards our sins, our sorrows, and our cares—it is a part of
our bliss to know what we shall NOT be in our eternal state. "He will remove all
of their sorrows, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain!
For the old world and its evils are gone forever!" Revelation 21:4 But let us
now dwell upon the positive descriptions of heaven, and consider what we SHALL
be. There is, perhaps, no term more frequently employed to set forth our future
state, than the word "GLORY." None could have been more appropriately selected.
It signifies, when used to describe material objects—brightness, splendor,
dazzling effulgence. Hence we apply it to the sun, or any unusually bright light
in the heavens. It means the perfection of material manifestation—that which
reveals all things, beautifies all things, perfects all things. In figurative
language it means honor, renown—that which renders any person or thing
illustrious. So that when we find the deficiency of ordinary words to set forth
the greatness, the grandeur, and transcendental nature of any person, action, or
thing—we call in the aid of this word, and exclaim, "It is GLORIOUS!"

What, then, must heaven be—which is a state of unparalleled, perfect, infinite
"GLORY." This, like the term "life," conveys a more impressive idea of our
future state than lengthened and labored description. The apostle sums up heaven
in one place thus—"We rejoice in hope of the glory of God." This probably means
not only the glory which God has prepared for us in all its details—but the
direct perception and enjoyment which in heaven we shall have of God himself!
The service, knowledge, and enjoyment of God, must form the loftiest employment
of any creature’s powers, however exalted he may be, and the richest bliss his
heart can know. "To know God, and Jesus Christ whom he has sent, is eternal
life," not only the means of obtaining it—but its essential felicity. In this
world how little we know of God—how much less we enjoy of God. To every
unconverted man, creation, instead of illustrating the Deity, has thrown a cloud
of obscurity over him; and even to the believer, he is seen in dimness and
disguise; so that almost all he can do is to long after him. But in heaven God
will show himself personally to man; the thick veil shall be lifted up; the
barrier of interception, now so opaque and impenetrable, will be removed. "Then
shall the great Father of the Universe stand revealed to the eye of his
creatures rejoicing before him, when all that design and beauty by which this
universe is enriched, shall beam in a direct flood of radiance from the original
mind that evolved it into being; when the sight of infinite majesty shall be so
tempered by the sight of infinite mercy, that the awe which else would
overpower, will be sweetened by love, into a most calm, and solemn, and
confiding reverence; and the whole family of heaven shall find it to be enough
happiness forever, that the glories of Divinity are visibly expanded to their
view, and they are admitted into the high delights of ecstatic and ineffable
communion with the living God." But it may be asked, how will God reveal himself
to the glorified inhabitants of heaven? "They shall see his face." Not that the
essence of God can be seen any more in heaven than it is on earth. Jesus Christ
will there be the image of the invisible God. We shall see him, and thus will be
verified to us the words of the Savior to Philip, "He who has seen me has seen
the Father." We find this representation to have been adopted by both by Christ
and his apostles. "Father, I will that they also whom you have given me be with
me where I am, that they may behold my glory, which you have given me"—John
17:24. Our Lord speaks of this vision as constituting the very substance of our
heavenly felicity. This glory, however, does not refer exclusively to his
personal appearance, though this is included—but also to the completion of his
mediatorial work, to the state and majesty in which he dwells, to the homage
which is paid him, to the infinite stores of wisdom, grace, and power which he
possesses; to all he is, has done, and can do, to bless the universe. He prayed
that his disciples might be brought to see the wonderful contrast presented by
his heavenly condition, to his earthly condition. They had seen him as the Man
of Sorrows, and he desires they should behold him as the Lord of glory! He knew
the love his true disciples bear to him, and that they could have no higher
happiness than to be with him, and see his exaltation and honors, just as Joseph
desired his brethren to tell his father of all his glory in Egypt, from a
knowledge of the pleasure it would convey to his paternal heart. In the sublime
visions of the Apocalypse, where heaven is opened to our view, it is Christ who
is represented as the glory of that place, lighting up all countenances with
joy, filling all hearts with gladness, and making all tongues vocal with praise.
He is the sun of that blessed world—the orb of that nightless, cloudless, and
eternal day. This was the heaven Paul longed for when he desired to depart—even
to be with Christ. That one idea of being with Christ filled his soul, and he
thought it enough. To be absent from the body, and present with the Lord, was
the prevailing wish of his truly Christian heart. With this he cheered the
spirits of the Thessalonians weeping over the graves of departed relatives—"So
shall we ever with the Lord. Therefore comfort one another with these words."—1
Thessalonians 4:18.

How entirely this falls in with all our present ideas, both natural and
spiritual. When our affection is very strongly fixed upon an individual, and our
feelings are wrought up to a high pitch of intensity, it is the presence and
converse of that individual which constitutes our chief joy. Any where, and any
how—with them is our earthly Paradise. We want no other company. To be alone
with them is our desire. Does not the Christian understand and feel all this in
reference to Christ? Is he not now the object of his supreme regard? Are there
not moments when he has such views of Christ’s glory, such conceptions of his
amazing mercy, such a sense of his love, such feelings of gratitude and
affection, that he is ready to say, "If I feel all this now, when I only
believe, what must be the felicity of beholding his full-orbed glory, of gazing
upon his face, and hearing his loving voice. I can conceive of no higher heaven,
no more perfect paradise, than to be in the presence of Him who died for me upon
the cross?" There is something wonderfully impressive, delightful, and unique in
thus resolving the bliss of heaven into a particular state of mind, and that
state as consisting of an adoring and grateful love, for a being to whom we are
indebted for redemption from an infinitude and eternity of torment, and to an
infinitude and eternity of bliss; and who adds to all these claims upon our
gratitude, additional claims upon our homage and admiration--for His own
infinity and eternal glories!

Among the felicities of heaven, and a rich one it is, such as at times makes the
Christian’s heart to leap for joy, is the spiritual perfection of our nature.
"We shall be like him," says the apostle, "for we shall see him as he is."
Nothing that defiles or works abomination shall have any entrance into that
state. Only perfect holiness can produce perfect happiness, and we shall be
perfectly holy in heaven. The last stain will be effaced from our nature; the
final stroke of absolute perfection will be given to our soul; the last filling
in to the image of God in our spirit will be accomplished. We shall know the
meaning, because we shall possess the reality, of that rapturous expression,
"The spirits of just men made perfect." Cowper has strikingly expressed all this
in one of his hymns— But though the poison lurks within, Hope bids me still with
patience wait, Until death shall set me free from sin, Free from the only thing
I hate. Had I a throne above the rest, Where angels and archangels dwell, ’One
sin’ unslain within my breast, Would make that heaven as dark as hell. The
pris’ner sent to breathe fresh air, And blessed with liberty again, Would mourn
were he condemned to wear One link of all his former chain. But oh! no foe
invades the bliss, When glory crowns the Christian’s head, One view of Jesus as
he is, Will strike all sin forever dead! Nor must we omit as part of the object
of Christian hope, the society of heaven. Man is a social being. Solicitude was
not good for him even in Paradise, nor would it be good for him in heaven.
Companionship seems needed by every being in the universe—God alone excepted.
How large a portion of our happiness now arises from friendship, fellowship, and
converse. It will be so above. What attractions does heaven present on this
ground. There will be the goodly fellowship of the prophets, the glorious
company of the apostles, the noble army of martyrs. There, all the holy men and
women whose names shine with such splendor on the page of inspiration, both of
the Old and New Testament—Abraham and Moses, David and Samuel, Paul and Peter,
James and John. There, all that have adorned the pages of uninspired
ecclesiastical history, the pious kings; the godly bishops; the zealous
reformers, Luther and Melancthon, Calvin and Cranmer, Knox and Zwingle. There,
all the faithful ministers, Wesley and Whitefield, Scott, Chalmers, Hall and
Jay. There, the devoted missionaries, Schwartz and Brainard, Morrison and Carey,
Martyn and Vanderkamp. There, the palm-bearing multitude which no man can
number, gathered out of every kindred, and tribe, and people, "who have washed
their robes and made them white and clean in the blood of the Lamb."

All, all, sinlessly perfect—all with glorified bodies, exalted intellects, and
stainless hearts! All freed from those infirmities which sometimes disturbed the
communion of saints upon earth, and by hard speeches and bitter controversies
grieved each other’s minds—now harmonized by perfect knowledge, perfect
holiness, and perfect love. Oh, to be introduced to such society, to be one of
them, to dwell with them, to maintain eternal converse with them! To be gathered
together with them, and all to Christ!! This is heaven, and what a heaven! But
are there no OCCUPATIONS in heaven? Is it a state of glorified indolence, of
paradisaic voluptuous ease, where the immortal spirit, the inquisitive soul,
yearning after knowledge and made for activity, will spend eternal ages lounging
through the streets of the New Jerusalem, or dozing in dreamy repose on the
banks of the river of life, and in the shadow of the tree of life? Nothing of
the kind! Heaven is a busy world, a place of universal activity, occupations
worthy of glorified immortals will be found there.

Now we know only in part; there shall we know everything as we are known.
KNOWLEDGE is not only power—but bliss. It is that to the mind, which water is to
the thirsty palate; what it craves after when it has it not, and luxuriates in
when it has. The whole universe will be thrown open to our contemplation. Space,
and the material universe, will be one vast library, and its countless millions
of stars, so many volumes to read and study, in order to know the glories of
creation. Providence, with all its vast machinery and complicated schemes,
combining in its plan, the history of the mightiest nations, and lowest
individuals, and all manifesting the wisdom, power, and love of God, will form
another department of study, where happy spirits will have mysteries solved,
which baffled the loftiest intellects on earth. But the object of deepest
interest, of profoundest research, and most delighted inquiry will be the most
sublime of all God’s works—the scheme of Redemption. The ’attractions of the
cross’ will be felt in heaven! It will be seen to be the focal point of God’s
manifested glory. The connections, the bearings, the full and complete results
of Christ’s mediation, now so imperfectly known, will furnish a subject of
study, never to be exhausted, and a source of happiness which will ever
satiate—but never glut. In heaven, it is said, with beautiful simplicity, "His
servants shall serve him." In what way, we cannot now say—but it will be an
employment worthy of the place, the servant, and the Master. And all this
forever! ETERNITY is the crown of heavenly glory! The greater the bliss of
heaven is, the more necessary to its full enjoyment does it seem that it should
be eternal. To look from such felicity through the vista of millions of ages,
and see at that distance a termination, would throw a damp on all our joys, a
shadow on our brightest scenes. But amid this rapturous and sublime festivity,
to be able to say, "All this forever," this is heaven. A slight enjoyment, if
eternal, rises into a vast magnitude—but the addition of eternity to infinitude,
surpasses all conception, except that of the omniscient intellect. And this is
our portion, if we are Christians, "An inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and
that fades not away." It seems too vast for our possession. Its magnitude
creates a kind of incredulity. To live as long as God lives! We are ready to
say, "Can it be?" Yet it is all that—there is an eternity before us, in which to
grow in knowledge and bliss, and make approaches to attainments all but
infinite—eternity to tower from height to height in glory—eternity to enjoy God
and his works. How is it we think so little about it? How is it that such
amazing joys do not create constant bliss? How is it we do not enter more deeply
and more constantly into the apostle’s expression, "We rejoice in hope of the
glory of God"? Because our faith is so weak—our hope so languid—our time so
occupied, and our attention so diverted from it—that we allow ourselves no
leisure to meditate upon it.


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  CHAPTER 48: 04.05.     SALVATION BY HOPE
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SALVATION BY HOPE I heard the sound of a vast crowd in heaven shouting,
"Hallelujah! Salvation is from our God!" Revelation 19:1

Salvation! What a word! And what a blessing! One word—but containing millions of
ideas. It is the whole Bible, condensed into a single term. God’s eternal
councils; Christ’s redeeming work; the Spirit’s sanctifying power; all the
riches of divine grace, and all the blessings of eternal glory, are in substance
comprehended in those few syllables. That one word is a boundless, fathomless
ocean of blessedness—like the love that originated the wondrous fruit of
redeeming mercy, it passes knowledge. All that preachers have said; all that
authors have ever written; all that Christians have ever felt, imagined, hoped
for, in regard to salvation, leave its full meaning yet to be explained. It can
be comprehended only in heaven! It can be developed only in eternity!

Salvation is in one sense a present blessing. We are now regenerated, justified,
sanctified. We are now the children of God, and have "passed from death unto
life." We who believe "have eternal life." The first-fruits, the foretaste, the
pledge—of eternal salvation, are already granted to us! But the consummation,
the full possession is to come! Hence says the apostle, "For in this hope we
were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he
already has?" Romans 8:24. It is obvious, that Paul here intended, that a full
salvation cannot be possessed in this present world—but must be hoped for in the
next. It is a future object, and must be waited for in holy desire and patient
expectation.

Yet, in this seems also included, by necessity, the other idea, that hope keeps
the believer steadfast in the pursuit of it, and persevering in the means
necessary to its future possession. So that we are saved by hope. And indeed
this is true, in even a still wider sense. Hope has much to do from beginning to
end—in obtaining our salvation. God’s redeeming love, purpose, and plan—have
made our world the region of hope. Earth is hope’s territory, its only
territory. Hope does not exist in heaven—for there all is fruition and
possession! There is no hope in hell—for there all is despair! But here every
man by the work of Christ, is placed, humanly speaking, in a salvable state. By
his very birth he is introduced into a world where he may hope for salvation
through the atonement of Christ. Mercy bids him welcome to earth, smiles upon
his cradle, and to his very childhood—holds out her hand to conduct him to
salvation. Hence he is to be reminded of this. Preachers are to tell him that he
is within the reach of mercy, and urge him to use the means of salvation. We are
commissioned to inform him that he is in a world between heaven and hell, and
that he may escape from the one, and obtain the other; so that even before he
has saving faith or true Christian hope, we may awaken in his soul the desire
and expectation of being saved. We are to tell him there is a salvation provided
for him. This is necessary before he can be induced to take a step, or put forth
an effort to possess himself of it. He must be addressed as a lost sinner, yet
not beyond the reach of mercy; as a being going on to eternal existence beyond
the grave—and who may be made a partaker of immortal bliss.

It is this general desire and vague expectation, which may be called a rational
hope, or rather, the hope of a rational creature—as distinguished from the
enlightened hope of the believer—that must be excited in the mind of man, and
which can alone induce him to give earnest heed to the salvation of his soul.
This vague and general hope cannot save him—but it may lead on to that which
can. It has nothing holy in it—but it may end in that which has. It is not the
product of saving faith—but it puts its possessor upon obtaining it.

If we can get men—even upon their natural and instinctive regard for their own
happiness—to hope for felicity beyond the grave, and prompt them to seek after
it, however ignorant they may be at the time of the way of salvation—we have
gained something. True, this is only an appeal to their self-love—but to what
other principle can we appeal in the first instance? It seems to me the
excellence of the gospel that it appeals first of all to man’s natural
instincts—for he has no spiritual ones before conversion. Is it not thus that
God acts in all his invitations to unconverted sinners, and in all his promises
and threatenings?

Yes, in the second table of the law we are commanded to love our neighbor as
ourselves. This self-love cannot be wrong, for surely our Lord could not intend
to found a duty upon a sin. Self-love is not to be confounded with selfishness.
Selfishness means an exclusive regard to our own happiness. Self-love means only
a duly regulated one. Selfishness is to be destroyed—self-love only to be
directed and controlled. The preacher of the gospel goes through the world as
the herald of salvation, proclaiming glad tidings to all men, with the view of
awakening, in the first instance, such a general and instinctive hope of
salvation, as shall put them upon the means of obtaining it, and lead them to
Christ, as its proper and only foundation. Thus the sinner is saved by hope—but
only so far as this incipient and vague expectation puts him upon seeking it in
earnest—and in God’s way of bestowing it. But neither conversion nor
justification, when obtained, is the whole of salvation, nor are both together.
Faith brings the soul back to the enjoyment of God’s favor—but heaven, the final
consummation of the work of grace, is also to be obtained; this completion of
our salvation is yet to be reached. Hence the beautiful language of the apostle,
when he says, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who,
according to his abundant mercy, has begotten us again unto a living hope, by
the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance incorruptible,
undefiled, and that fades not away."—1 Peter 1:3. We have a pilgrimage to pass
through before we reach that city of habitation; a wilderness to traverse, all
kinds of privations to endure, difficulties to encounter, dangers to escape, and
enemies to vanquish, before we set foot on the celestial Canaan. And how shall
we reach that better, that heavenly country? I answer, "We are saved by hope."
True it is we walk by faith, and are kept by the power of God through faith unto
salvation—but then faith is never complete without hope. Faith works by hope, as
well as by love. And it will now be my business to show, not only that
perseverance to the end is necessary—but how Christian hope enables us to attain
it. Hope calls out and sustains every grace and virtue, the exercise of which is
necessary for the continuance of our Christian course.

1. Fixed, determined RESOLUTION is essential to our reaching the end of our
faith—"the salvation of our souls." The apostle dwells on this with great
frequency and fervor in 1 Corinthians 15:58. The Christian’s mind must be made
up to this. His thinking must be somewhat as the following—"My purpose is fixed,
and nothing on earth shall shake it, to reach heaven at last. My plan is laid,
and nothing shall alter it. I see that all the richest possessions on earth,
everything that can gratify taste, ambition, avarice, or appetite, is but the
small dust of the balance to me. I am for heaven. God helping me, no sacrifice,
no self-denial, no hardship, no suffering, shall hold me back. I am resolutely
surrendered, irrevocably committed, indissolubly bound to that object. Ridicule
shall not turn me aside; persecution shall not terrify me; wealth shall not
seduce me; pleasure shall not allure me. I am for heaven, and none of these
things attract or move me. I will forego everything, and sacrifice everything
that stands in the way of everlasting glory."

"No, dear friends, I am still not all I should be, but I am focusing all my
energies on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies
ahead, I strain to reach the end of the race and receive the prize for which
God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us up to heaven." Php 3:13-14

Ah! This is what is needed in the great bulk of Christian professors—this
absolute determination to reach heaven at last! But how few of them have
deliberately, determinedly brought their minds to this intelligent,
ever-operative purpose! How comparatively rare, is the sight of a man, who seems
to have heaven in his eye, his heart, his hope, as the great object of desire,
pursuit, and expectation.

Look at the conduct of professing Christians, and see how different it is from
this. They have resolutions--but these are of the earth, earthly! They have
their fixed purposes --but how far below the skies do they reach! They have
their plans--but they appertain to the present world!

Let no man deceive himself here! None will reach heaven--but as the result of
fixed, deliberate, practical and persevering determination. It is the view of
heaven’s glories, the expectation of eternal life alone--which will lead to such
a heroic resolution. It must, indeed, be a mighty power and impulse, which will
induce a man to surrender his whole life, and all that it contains, for the
possession of its object!

2. PATIENCE is another thing required for our perseverance unto the end. Indeed
the meaning of the Greek word, rendered "patience," signifies "perseverance"—it
is such a fortitude in the endurance of suffering as leads to "continuance in
well doing." It has both a passive and an active meaning. Patience is the
suffering virtue—a desire, a purpose, and an ability to endure with
uncomplaining, unresisting meekness. This is a grace much more frequently called
for in some states of the church than in others. Times of persecution, when the
endurance of all kinds of painful inflictions is demanded, and bonds,
imprisonment and death are likely to wear out the fortitude and steadfastness of
the saints—then, in such circumstances as these, what can sustain the soul but
patience, and what can sustain patience but hope? Only those who endure to the
end, even amid such sufferings as these, can be saved; and only those who are
patient, can endure; and only those who are hopeful, can be patient. The apostle
states this very appropriately, where he says, "Therefore we both labor and
suffer reproach, because we have hoped in the living God."—1 Timothy 4:10.

3. CONTINUED SANCTIFICATION is necessary to our entrance into heaven. Neither
justification, nor regeneration, nor both together, without sanctification, will
take us to everlasting glory. It is true that the connection of this latter with
the two former is secured by God’s sovereign purpose of mercy towards his
people; yet this renders it not at all the less necessary to deal with it as a
matter of exhortation. The Christian should therefore be reminded, that it is
only those who persevere to the end in a way of faith and holiness who shall be
saved. It is at the peril of his soul, carelessly and presumptuously to exclaim,
when in a state of declension or backsliding, "Once in a state of grace, always
in it." To abuse the doctrine of the perseverance of the saints to the
indulgence of a frame of mind incompatible with the Christian profession, is a
sure sign of an unconverted state. He who can deliberately wander from the way
of holy living, under the idea, and with the expectation that he shall be
brought back again in God’s time, may be very sure he never was in the way.

We have need to be continually exhorted, and need constantly to attend to the
exhortation, to "watch and pray, lest we enter into temptation." The
requirements of God’s law are so large, the demands of Christ upon his followers
so extensive, their own profession is so comprehensive and so strict, and the
temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil are so constant and so urgent
in one way or other, or from one quarter and another—that really it is a
difficult matter to maintain that "holiness, without which no man shall see the
Lord." The Christian life, which is a life of inward and outward holiness, is a
continued conflict, mortification, crucifixion. We are sternly called upon to
pluck out a right eye, or cut off a right hand, and maintain—even in the most
tranquil times, and without any self-invented, self-imposed penances—a rigorous
habit of self-denial. Many things which would gratify the flesh, the privation
of which not only deprives us of what others enjoy—but exposes us to wonder,
reproach, or ridicule—must be abstained from if we would be holy. And how shall
we be able to adhere, in such circumstances, to the way of godliness? The fear
of destruction may do something towards this. Our Lord bids his disciples "fear
him who can destroy both body and soul in hell," and in many other places the
appeal is to our fear, in the way of warning. It is a perversion of the gospel
system of love and mercy—to say it excludes all fear. We know that the apostle
has said, "Perfect love casts out fear, for fear has torment." This latter
expression explains and limits the former, and indicates that the only fear
which love casts out, is that which has torment, and that even this is not cast
out but by perfect love. Still, I admit it is the hope of heaven, and the love
of God, which are chiefly dwelt upon in the Scriptures of the New Testament, as
the means and motives of sanctification. This will be explained at large when we
come to the chapter on hope as a purifier.

4. Akin to this, and necessary for it, is WATCHFULNESS. If we would not be led
into temptation, we must watch against it. There is scarcely any duty more
frequently or more urgently enjoined upon us than this holy vigilance—and
therefore none is more necessary! How impressively did our Lord enjoin this upon
his disciples in Matthew 24:1-51, Matthew 25:1-46, Matthew 26:1-75. As we are
ever surrounded by temptation, this follows, of course. What soldier who is in
an enemy’s country, where every tree, every hedge, every wall may conceal a
foe—who is at that moment taking aim, and about to send the fatal bullet to his
heart—would not keep constant watch on every object? This is precisely our
situation and our duty. In one hour, and when not thinking of danger, much less
apprehending it to be near, we may be brought into a trial of our faith and
steadfastness which may seem to imperil our whole salvation. An unwatchful
security may be our ruin. This was the cause of all the scandals we read of in
Scripture. Eve was unwatchful when she listened to the tempter’s wiles—and Adam
was unwatchful when he hearkened to the persuasions of his wife, and lost
Paradise for themselves and their posterity. Noah was unwatchful when he drank
the fruit of the vine and became intoxicated. Abraham was unwatchful when he
lied to defend the chastity of his wife. David was unwatchful when he was
walking on the housetop, saw Bathsheba, and fell into the crimes of adultery and
murder. Peter was unwatchful when he denied his Master with oaths and curses.
Yes, and the failings of God’s people in every age since are to be traced to the
same negligence. Satan knows when we are off our watchtower, or asleep upon it,
and takes instant advantage of our lack of vigilance. He never slumbers—though
we do. And what is so likely to keep our eyes open, our vigilance eager, as
hope? This is the ever wakeful sentinel of the soul. Hope, when vigorous and
lively, is all eye, all ear, all hand, all foot. It sees the least object, hears
the least noise, feels the least touch, snatches up its weapons and hastens to
the point of danger or advantage. It is ever waiting, ever-watchful, ever
prepared for defense or assault. Intent thus upon the glorious object of our
Christian desire and expectation, we shall walk circumspectly, looking all
around to see if any foe be near.

5. Can any rational creature, who reads the Word of God, expect to reach heaven
without UNWEARIED DILIGENCE? In how many pages of the New Testament is this
enjoined upon us? One only need here be cited—"And besides this, giving all
diligence, add to your faith virtue," etc. This is also repeated a few verses
after—"Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling and
election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall." 2 Peter 1:5-10.
Let the reader be attentive to the words of this exhortation. It not only
enjoins diligence—but all diligence; and for what a purpose! to practice a whole
chain of virtues, each one of which requires the strength of Omnipotence to
enable us to exercise it, and thus to make our calling and election sure; sure
to our entire conviction, so that we may walk onward in our Christian career,
with the blissful consciousness that we are elected and called to salvation.

If diligence is necessary for anything, it is to obtain salvation. If diligence
can be justified in reference to anything it is for salvation. If diligence is
successful in anything, it is in salvation. If diligence is rewarded in
anything, it is in salvation. The difficulties of the divine life are so great,
so numerous, and so constant, that of all the vain hopes of success in any
undertaking, the vainest is that indulged by the man who expects to get to
heaven without diligence. A tradesman who is surrounded with eager, skillful,
industrious competitors—but who lies in bed until midday, may much more
rationally expect to succeed than he who anticipates the possession of heaven
without constant, indomitable, and unwearied diligence.

Let any one consider what are the promises to be believed, the duties to be
performed, the sacrifices to be made, the difficulties to be surmounted, the
mortification to be exercised, the enemies to be encountered, the battles to be
fought, the victories to be achieved—before salvation can be obtained—and then
say if all this can be done without diligence.

Everything incites to this. The conduct of God himself sets the example. The
Pagan philosophers used to argue that the world must be eternal, or otherwise,
they said, the Deity would have been idle. They did not consider the
incomprehensible delight, nor the infinite business of rest—and rest of
business—which he had in himself. Inactivity is not incident to God; and if God
be diligent, should not man? and if the chief diligence of God be about man’s
salvation, how much more should man be about it also? It has been quaintly said,
by an old author, "that God built his temple on a threshing floor, to teach men
industry and diligence," alluding to the ground on Mount Moriah, which David
purchased of Araunah, for the erection of an altar, after the pestilence was
stayed.

We cannot obtain anything earthly that is good without labor—and can we expect
to gain heaven without it? Alas, alas, how are even professors slackened in
their pursuit of heavenly things by such as are earthly. Oh, that we could see
Christians working out their salvation with the same diligence which they are
working at their worldly calling. We are told by the fable that when Jupiter had
invited all living creatures to a banquet, the tortoise came in at the end of
the feast; and upon being reproved for his dilatoriness, excused himself on the
ground of the house which he carried upon his back, whereupon Jove adjudged him
forever to keep in his shell. Let us take care that when God calls us to the
celestial banquet we do not allow a house, or some personal, domestic, earthly
concern—to hinder us lest all our happiness be confined to it. In the case of
the poor tortoise, his impediment was put upon him by nature; ours is
self-imposed.

More than once we are exhorted by the apostle not to be slothful. Sloth is the
opposite of diligence—an inactive, drowsy, slumbering state of soul. Such a
disposition is hateful in everything—but most hateful and most surprising in
regard to salvation. There is an animal in the zoological world called the
sloth, whose habits render him the picture of all that is lazy, inert and
torpid. He will occupy three days in climbing a tree, and fall asleep in the
act. He scarcely ever moves but when compelled by hunger, and then rarely
traverses more than fifty paces in a day. He utters a piteous cry, as if
movement were a distress; and is held in such detestation that even beasts of
prey retire from him in disgust. With such an illustration of the nature of
slothfulness, how forcibly comes to us the warning of the apostle against it—"Be
not slothful."

Instead of the sloth, as his emblem, the professing Christian should select the
eagle, which, with unblinking eye, and unwearied wing, soars with rapid and
upward flight towards the sun! Or rather, should seek to resemble the angelic
figures, concentrating in himself, and exhibiting in his conduct, in reference
to salvation—the patient industry of the ox, the speed of the eagle, the courage
of the lion, and all this directed by the intelligence of the man. And what can,
or will, keep up such a diligent regard to heavenly realities? There is but one
thing that will do it, and that is HOPE—and this will do it. The power of this
to inflame the human mind will be in exact proportion to the importance of its
object, the probability of obtaining it, and the intensity of desire to possess
it. Apply this to salvation, and you will then perceive its meaning, its truth,
and its force, as a motive power.

6. SPIRITUAL JOY has considerable power in maintaining our perseverance in the
pursuit of salvation. "The joy of the Lord is his people’s strength," to sustain
them under, and carry them through, the trials, difficulties and duties of the
Christian state. The more we have of joy and peace, the more we have of manly
strength, and robustness and vigor. Dejection, despondency and gloom enfeeble
the mind in ordinary matters, and so they do in sacred ones. Distress paralyzes
the arm of industry by eating out the power of the nerve of action. Hence the
prayer of the apostle for the Christian Romans—"The God of hope fill you with
all joy and peace in believing, that you may abound in hope, through the power
of the Holy Spirit." It is of vast importance, not only for the believer’s
comfort—but for his safety, that this should be his case. He needs peace and
joy, not only to make his duties delightful—but to retain his hold on true
religion altogether. The faith, if it can be called by such a word, that yields
no comfort to the soul, will soon be cast away as a worthless thing. A religion
that does not bring bliss with it will soon be likely to be found a hindrance to
enjoyment. Professors neither feel nor exhibit the excellence of true religion,
if they do not "serve the Lord with gladness." We tell the world, in sermons and
books, that the springs of happiness lie in true piety, and we should be careful
to sustain the assertion by our appearance. We are commanded to let our light
shine before men. To do this we must let our holiness be irradiated by the
sunshine of joy. A Christian is never giving to his religion its full credit,
until he shows that it not only makes him a holy man, or an useful man—but also
a happy one. The multitude all around him are saying, "Who will show us any
good?" He should be able to say "I will." "Lord, you have lifted upon me the
light of your countenance, and put gladness into my heart." Now it is hope that
feeds joy. Hence the apostle’s language, "Rejoicing in hope." "We rejoice in
hope of the glory of God." The pleasures of hope have been, as we have already
observed, the theme of poetry and song. It is, and must be, a happy state of
mind. It is one of the passions which, in their very exercise, are bliss. They
not only bring it—but are it. A child desiring and expecting his toy, is, in so
far as that goes, happy; happier, of course, when joy is turned into
fruition—but pleased even with his hopes. If the salvation which is in Christ
Jesus does not give joy, nothing can; and he who talks of heaven without
"rejoicing in hope" of it, does but talk.

7. Hope gives a foretaste of heaven; and therefore we are saved by it.
Salvation, as we have already shown, is a present blessing—"we are saved," and
not merely "shall be." What was said to Zaccheus may be said to every repenting
and believing sinner, "This day has salvation come to your house." He who is not
saved now will not be hereafter. We know very well that salvation begun on earth
will be completed in heaven. But heaven itself does begin on earth— The men of
grace have found Glory begun below; Celestial fruits on earthly ground, From
faith and hope may grow— And do grow. Grace is glory in the bud—glory is grace
in full bloom. Grace is glory militant—glory is grace triumphant. What other
honors and felicities heaven will contain, than those we read of in the Bible as
now promised to the Christian, we cannot even conjecture—but there are none, can
be none greater in kind than those we now possess, either of a relative or a
personal nature. We can rise no higher in relationship, than to be a child of
God—no higher in moral state, than to be like God—no higher in principles of
action, than to love God and our neighbor—and no higher in happiness, than to
enjoy God. Now all these we have on earth. True, we have them here only in such
small proportions, in such glimpses, in such sips, and amid so many
interruptions—that we can form but a very inadequate idea from them of the
heavenly glory. But they are the pledge of our redemption. And we might have a
much richer pledge than we have. Others have had it.

What a foretaste must John Howe have had when one night he was in such a holy
ecstasy in the view of heaven, that he said to his wife, "Though I love you as
much as it is fit for one creature to love another, yet, if it were put to my
choice, whether to die this moment or live this night, and by living this night
I could secure to myself the continuance of this life for seven years longer, I
should choose to die this moment." What a foretaste of heaven must Halyburton
have enjoyed, when he had such a view and sense of the excellent glory, that he
entreated God to cover that glory with his hand, lest it should overcome his
power of endurance. What a prelude of the celestial banquet must Payson have
had, when he wrote the following letter—

Dear Sister, "Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bunyan I might date
this letter from the land of Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy
inhabitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me, its
breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and
its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river
of death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at
a single step, whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness has
been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he
approached; and now he fills the whole hemisphere, pouring forth a flood of
glory, in which I seem to float like an insect in the beams of the sun,
exulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and
wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to shine upon a
sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my
desires—I need a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to
express that emotion.

"But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings; why not speak only of our
God and Redeemer? It is because I know not what to say. When I would speak of
them my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their
presence produces, and even of these I can tell you but very little. O, my
sister, my sister! could you but know what awaits the Christian; could you know
only so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoicing, and even leaping
for joy. Labors, trials, troubles, would be nothing—you would rejoice in
afflictions, and glory in tribulations; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God’s
praises in the darkest night, and in the deepest dungeon. You have known a
little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they have been neither few nor
small; and I hope this glorious termination of them will serve to strengthen
your faith, and elevate your hope.

"And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your Christian course—but a
few days longer, and you will meet in heaven, Your happy and affectionate
brother, Edward Payson." In these instances we see how much of heaven has been
enjoyed on earth by some of God’s saints. And do not the biographies of others
teach us the same fact? Yes, have there not been seasons, alas too few and too
short, when we ourselves have known something of all this? When we too, have had
such joy and peace in believing; such an impression of God’s presence; such a
sense of his love; such ardent affection for the Savior, and such communion with
him; such a holy serenity of mind; such an elevation above the world—as to lead
us to say, "Now I know something about heaven; what it is, and what it must be,
when this frame of mind and heart is carried on to absolute perfection."

It is hope that produces this. This passion, when intensely engaged, seems to
give a present existence to its object, which stands before the mind with almost
the vividness of reality. Hope, in its highest exercises, is a kind of fruition.
How important then is its exercise. How desirable to send it across the Jordan,
like the spies into the promised land, to fetch the grapes of Eshcol, and thus
to be encouraged to go on and take full possession of the heavenly country.


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  CHAPTER 49: 04.06.     THE ASSURANCE OF HOPE
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THE ASSURANCE OF HOPE

Why is it, that so few professors of true religion, and even true Christians,
enjoy and exhibit so little of that joy and peace in believing, which the New
Testament declares to be their privilege, and which, it might be supposed, their
state and condition warrant and demand? That the great mass of professors do
appear destitute of this spiritual delight is too notorious to be denied. In
affliction are they not as disconsolate as other men? Do not their troubles put
out the lights of their comfort, and cause them to walk in darkness? In
prosperity, how little of their happiness is derived from spiritual sources. The
springs of their felicity lie in earthly, rather than in heavenly things. How
rare is the case of one whose countenance is generally illuminated with a smile,
and that smile the reflection of the beams of the Sun of Righteousness. How is
this? Why is it that we do not let the light of our joy, as well as of our
holiness, shine before men, and thus let our personal history stand as the index
that points to the fountain of bliss? Why?

Because so many professing Christians, to allude to Bunyan’s immortal allegory,
are imprisoned in "Doubting Castle." How few are there who, if the question were
proposed to them, "Are you assured you are a child of God?" would answer even in
this modest language, "I believe I am, and am happy in this delightful
persuasion." The greater number would hesitate, and tell you plainly and at
once, that they have their doubts and fears about this matter, and cannot really
persuade themselves that this is their state. Ought this to be so? Ought a real
Christian to be in constant, serious doubt whether he is a Christian? The change
produced by the converting grace of God might be supposed, from its nature and
greatness, to be its own evidence. It is a change in a man’s whole moral nature,
if indeed, it really exists. It is a change so accurately described in the Word
of God, that any one who will deal honestly with himself, look into his own
heart, consult his own consciousness, and compare himself with the Word of God,
might know his state. The features of a child of God and of a child of the
devil, are not so like each other as to be hardly distinguished. And as reason
would lead us to conclude, the state of grace may be distinguished from a state
of nature; the Scriptures everywhere assert that it may be, and suppose that it
is. "We know that we have passed from death unto life," says the apostle,
"because we love the brethren," 1 John 3:14. And in a subsequent passage of the
same epistle, the apostle says, "These things have I written unto you who
believe on the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal
life," 1 John 5:13. Would it not appear strange if there were really no means of
knowing that we had really become Christians? How could it be said God was "more
abundantly willing that we should have strong consolation," if we could have no
knowledge he had forgiven our sins and received us to favor, until we reached
the heavenly country? It is not only represented as possible that we may obtain
this blessed knowledge now—but it is actually made a duty to seek it. "And we
desire," says the apostle, "that every one of you show the same diligence to the
full assurance of hope unto the end," Hebrews 6:11. The state of mind here
enjoined is not only hope—but the assurance of hope; not, only the
assurance—but, the full assurance. This, observe, is not merely held out as a
privilege—but enjoined as a duty; and not only a duty for some—but for every
one; and a state not occasional—but habitual, not for a time—but "unto the end."
This is in accordance with what another apostle enjoins—"therefore brethren,
give diligence to make your calling and election sure," 2 Peter 1:10. That is,
sure to ourselves. Let it then be distinctly understood that assurance is not
only the privilege of a few—but the duty of all. And yet how few enjoy it. Why?

Ignorance of its nature keeps many from it. Hence the necessity of explanation.
There are THREE KINDS OF ASSURANCE spoken of in the New Testament. "The full
assurance of understanding," Colossians 2:2. This means a clear, comprehensive,
and soul-establishing acquaintance with divine truth. "The full assurance of
faith," Hebrews 10:22. By this we are to understand a strong, settled,
unwavering conviction of the truth of the gospel. "The full assurance of hope."
These three are intimately connected with each other, and one rises out of the
other. Here is first a clear understanding of the gospel—then a firm belief of
what is so understood—and then the hope of what is believed; a personal
knowledge, a personal belief, a personal hope. And the reason why many do not
possess the last, is that they do not clearly see, and constantly remember, that
it can be obtained only by the two preceding ones. But what is the true nature
of this assurance of hope? It must be distinctly borne in mind, that it is only
the assurance of hope, not of possession. Let hope be as confident as it may, it
is still but hope, and cannot have all the undoubting and absolute certainty of
possession. The latter leaves no room for doubt or fear. The former may. By the
state of mind therefore indicated by the phrase I am now considering, it is not
meant that it consists in the Christian’s being able to feel and to say he is as
certain of getting to heaven as if he were already there. It is not meant that
he possesses such an absolute and undoubting certainty as admits of no degrees;
much less a kind of boastful, ostentatious, and vainglorious confidence of
safety. It may be expressed thus—"The Word of God tells me that he who believes
in Christ shall be saved; I am conscious that I have believed in Christ and have
thus committed my soul to him; therefore I believe my sins are forgiven, and I
hope for eternal salvation. I have such a persuasion of the reality of my faith,
therefore of the pardon of my sins, and reconciliation to God, that I have no
serious doubt of my being a child of God and an heir of glory." This I call
assurance; such a persuasion of our having received the grace of God in our
hearts, as excludes distressing doubts and fears. Still it is such a persuasion
of our being true believers, as admits of degrees, for we find it so stated in
the different passages which refer to it; we have "assurance," "full assurance,"
and "much full assurance," clearly proving, I repeat, that the word imports a
state of mind which admits of various degrees of certainty. Of the very people
who are represented as having "much full assurance," the apostle says that their
"faith grew exceedingly," 1 Thessalonians 1:5. But if assurance meant a state of
mind that entirely and forever excluded all doubt, how could it grow beyond full
assurance?

I therefore again say that the Scripture does not warrant us to describe it as
going beyond a pleasing and satisfactory conclusion that we have passed from
death unto life; which, after all, is very different from that certainty which
accompanies possession. How else can we harmonize it with the exhortation to
"work out our salvation with fear and trembling," or with the other admonition
to "fear, lest a promise being left us of entering into his rest, any of us
should seem to come short of it." There is a wide difference between possessing
a calm and comfortable enjoyment of this persuasion of true faith—and being
forward to affirm it, and to glory in it before others. A believer may be in the
full possession of an inward, tranquil, and even joyful persuasion of his state
before God, and of his safety for eternity; and yet not stand ready when the
question, "are you sure you are a child of God?" is put to him by a fellow
creature, to reply with an unhesitating boldness, "I am as sure of it as if I
heard a voice from heaven declare it." The right answer to such a question is
the following—"I am a poor, sinful, guilty, lost creature—worthless, helpless,
hopeless. But I believe the record God has given of his Son. On him, as the true
and only foundation, I place all my hopes of eternal life, and I have therefore
joy and peace in believing. Christ is my all. His finished work is the sole
ground of my confidence. I think I am accepted by God. I know whom I have
believed, and am persuaded he is able to keep that which I have committed to him
against that day. O to grace how great a debtor I am." This I consider the
scriptural assurance. It may fall short of the boast of some—but it accords best
with the Word of God, and with the experience of God’s saints in general. It is
a knowledge that we have passed from death to life—though it is a knowledge
which is less than that of the absolute and undoubting certainty which some
contend for. This is a blessed state of mind, and much to be desired. How
blessed to have the great question thus satisfactorily settled, and to be
relieved from painful solicitude and distressing fear about our safety for
eternity. What, compared with this, is it to have fears about our health, or
property, or liberty, or even life, removed? How great, how pure the joy
afforded by such a persuasion as this—"Yes, I think I am a believer in Christ, a
converted man, a child of God, an heir of glory, a traveler to heaven. I can
say, with unfaltering tongue, O God, you are my God. Blessed Jesus, you know all
things, you know that I love you."

O, what sunshine does such a persuasion throw over the landscape of life,
illumining its barren wastes, and bringing out all the beauty, and verdure, and
bloom of its Paradisaic spots. What privations may we not endure, what
afflictions may we not bear, when we can say, "God is my Father, Christ my
Savior, salvation my portion, and heaven my home!" This has carried consolation
into the darkest recesses of human woe, the lowest depths of poverty and need.
With this, confessors have made the walls of their prison echo with their songs,
and martyrs have been happy on the scaffold and at the stake. With this, we may
live in happiness and die in peace. It is a jewel worth infinitely more than all
the gems which have ever blazed on beauty or royalty. The man who can rejoice in
saying he is a Christian in reality, need not sigh over anything else that he is
not.

Let us now consider how hope is to be obtained. We shall never have it, if we do
not desire it. Surely if anything be desirable, it must be, or ought to be,
this. The absence of all solicitude about such a matter indicates either the
total lack—or the great weakness—of personal, vital religion. That they who are
altogether careless about true religion should never trouble themselves about
the matter, is natural enough—but that professors of religion should be
indifferent to it, is indeed for a marvel. And yet, I fear it is a subject about
which the great bulk of them give themselves no concern. Ask them if they have
any good ground to conclude they are the children of God, and are living in the
happy persuasion they are safe for eternity, and in multitudes of instances,
they will tell you they really do not know, and tell it almost with such an air
of levity, as too plainly shows how little interest they take in true religion
altogether. Such people may well doubt of their state; they have good reason to
doubt. Indifference to the question, "Am I indeed a child of God?" is a sad and
sure indication of an unchanged heart. But even pious people are not so earnest
about this matter as they ought to be. With them it is too generally left
undecided, and in many cases because undesired. Is it not to be coveted that we
should go on our way rejoicing to everlasting glory? Is it not desirable that,
like Bunyan’s Pilgrim, we should get out of Doubting Castle—and repose amid the
beauties of the Delectable Mountains of assurance?

Self-examination is essential to this blessed state of mind. "Examine yourselves
to see whether you are in the faith; test yourselves. Do you not realize that
Christ Jesus is in you--unless, of course, you fail the test?"—2 Corinthians
13:5. It is a matter of infinite and eternal importance that is at stake—the
soul, and the soul’s salvation. A mistake here is an appalling matter—an error
that will require an eternity to understand—and an eternity to deplore! And the
necessity for examination lies in the deceitfulness of the heart, in the
liability of us all, and at all times, to false opinions of our state, and in
the multitude that are thus deceived—See Matthew 7:20-23. We must therefore
examine whether our faith be real or nominal; and we must also "prove
ourselves." Now this proof is to be obtained partly by looking into our hearts
with an earnest, anxious research, and a comparison of their habitual state with
the Word of God—and especially by making trial of our faith in its influence
upon our life.

It is of great consequence that we ever bear in mind that this assurance must be
reached through the other two—the assurance of understanding and of faith—and
will be in proportion to them. As is our knowledge of the gospel, for clearness,
comprehensiveness, and decision—so will be our faith. The hesitating, doubting,
wavering faith of many, arises from their dim and cloudy perception of divine
truth. They do not see very clearly what they are to believe. The vague object
is perceived like the outline of a coast seen from a great distance at sea—but
which can hardly be distinguished from a cloud, and consequently the belief by
the sailors that it is land is very feeble and fluctuating. Such, and such only,
are the knowledge and faith of many real believers. They are not Bible students
and proficients. It is impossible to found a confident expectation upon a feeble
conviction; it would be like attempting to build a castle upon a quicksand.
Christ, salvation, heaven, and eternity, must all be firmly believed as great
and glorious realities before they can become matters of personal and individual
expectation. A strong faith must, of necessity, be followed with a lively hope.
All attempts to reach this blessed state of mind—but through the previous
stages, seem like an effort to reach the top of the ladder without treading upon
the intermediate steps.

It is apparent, then, that the assurance of hope is obtained in these two
ways—by consciousness, and by examination. I am told in the Bible that every one
who believes in Jesus Christ is pardoned, received to the favor of God, has a
title to eternal life, and will be received up into glory. I am conscious I do
believe. Knowing the acts of my own mind, I know that I commit my soul into the
hands of Christ for salvation. Still, as I have said, the heart is deceitful
above all things; and as I am liable to have my judgment imposed upon by
self-love, I must not trust to this consciousness alone—but must subject that to
a test. As far as I know myself, I am conscious of faith in Christ—but I will
test that faith, and the hope which is founded upon it. How? "These things have
I written unto you who believe on the name of the Son of God, that you may know
that you have eternal life."—1 John 5:13. Consciousness, therefore, is not the
only test—but what is written—the Word of God. We are to bring ourselves to this
touchstone, and say, "Do my faith and hope answer to that? Do I see in my heart,
life, and character, the stamp of Scripture? Has this seal of the Spirit left
its corresponding impression upon my soul?"

Perhaps it will be said, this is an wearisome, tedious, and doubtful method
after all. But is it scriptural? This is evident by an appeal to the Bible. "We
know," says the apostle, "we have passed from death unto life." How? By
consciousness only? By revelation, impression, dream, or vision? No—"Because we
love the brethren." We cannot know it without this; we may know by it. And I may
remark in passing, that this love to the brethren is of itself, when rightly
understood, a decisive proof of true Christian piety. But what is this love? Not
a love to those of our congregation, our denomination, our relations—but to all
real Christians; for he who loves not all, does not love any as Christians—nor
is it merely a love to them as containing many pleasing, amiable, and useful
qualities; nor merely a love to the more lovely of them—but a love to even the
more unattractive of them, and all this because God loves them—because they
belong to him, and really love him; a love to them because they are holy, and
bear God’s image—a love that overleaps the barriers of sect, and party, and
church, and nation, and that says, and feels what it says, "Show me a human
being whom God loves, and that loves God, and bears his image; and no matter the
nation, or the church to which he belongs; no matter the color of his skin, or
his rank in life; he may be a Negro or a pauper; he may have some unlovely
external aspects—but I own, I love, and I will help that man as a brother in
Christ. I feel myself identified with him, and can say, and do feel what I say,
’Grace be with all those who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity.’" The man
who can say this, is a Christian, and has the assurance of hope. Similar
language we find in a subsequent chapter of the same epistle, 5:1-3.

I am aware that a shorter and more direct manner of arriving at this conclusion
is contended for by some, who bring forward for this purpose the words of the
apostle, "The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit, that we are the
children of God."—Romans 8:16. The idea which many entertain of this witness is,
that it is a direct and immediate suggestion, impression, and revelation to the
individual who receives it—that his sins are pardoned, and that he has received
a title to heaven.

Now I think this a mistaken view of the apostle’s meaning, and for the following
reasons—In this revelation or impression, there is nothing necessarily holy in
its nature. An impression or revelation may be made to an unholy mind, as was
done in the case of Balaam, and many others. Then, as a revelation from God, it
would seem to require something to authenticate it as such. This view is also
contrary to the other parts of God’s Word, which represent the evidence of
pardon, true personal godliness, and safety—to consist of what is practical in
us. It seems calculated to lead to great delusion; for how liable would we be to
confound such a direct revelation with the mere impression of our own minds.
Many who profess to have received it, have, by their subsequent conduct—proved
that they were deluded; while multitudes of those who are true Christians—are
not conscious of any such testimony. Moreover, it is inharmonious with the
context of the passage on which it is founded, which is entirely practical; the
design of the apostle, from the beginning of the chapter, being to show that
holiness is the evidence of our being united to Christ by faith, and that the
spirit of the gospel, as distinguished fruit the spirit of the law, is a spirit
of adoption, and not of bondage. Now this spirit of adoption, or the spirit of a
child, is itself the witness of the Spirit. The spirit of a child is love,
confidence, freedom; this is also the spirit of a child of God, and the
production of it is the work of the Holy Spirit in the soul.

Understand, then, that the witness of the Spirit is our possessing this filial
disposition, which characterizes every child of God. It has been well said, that
in a true Christian’s devout aspiration, it is not from instruction or habit—but
from spontaneous impulse, that he exclaims, "Our Father." His thoughts go out
after God. His heart yearns for him. His soul longs with unutterable longings
for his abiding presence. He comes with a truly filial spirit before God, and it
is perfectly easy and natural for him to say, "Our Father." He is the child of
God, and he does or may know it. Being the child of his Father and away from his
Father’s house, he thinks of it with pleasure, and dwells with delight on his
going home at last, and is sometimes homesick—as children that are kept at
school away from their parents think of the day of their vacation, when they
shall go home. These yearnings are the testimony of the Spirit that we are the
children of God. The man who has these feelings habitually, need not hesitate to
call himself a child of God. This is laid down in the Word as descriptive of the
Spirit’s work in the heart, and thus the conformity of the Spirit’s work in the
Word and in his soul being ascertained by the believer, he comes to the
knowledge of his state. "The case," says Dr. Wardlaw, "stands thus—The Holy
Spirit speaks in the Word. The same Spirit operates in the heart. There must be
a consistency between his testimony in the Word, and his operation in the heart.
The evidence lies in this congruity. We take the divine Word as dictated by the
Spirit, and containing a declaration of his mind; we see there what he
testifies, we see especially the description which he gives of the faith and
character of God’s children; if ’our spirits,’ in the court of conscience, and
before the Father of our spirits, bear witness to a congruity between this
description and what has been effected in us by the Divine Agent, then there is
a concurrence of the testimonies. The testimony of God’s Spirit and the
testimony of our spirits agree. The one witnesses or evidences to the other. In
proportion as we have the inward consciousness of this harmony do we possess the
witness of the Spirit that we are the children of God."

"What," says Jonathan Edwards, "has led to the notion of a direct witness of the
Spirit apart from this consciousness of conformity of his work in the heart, and
with his testimony in the Word, is the word ’witness’ of the Spirit. Hence they
have taken it to be, not any work of the Spirit upon the heart giving evidence
whence men may argue that they are the children of God—but an inward immediate
suggestion, as though God invariably spoke to man and told him that he was his
child, by a kind of secret voice or impression. The manner in which the word
’witness’ or testimony is often used in the New Testament, is the holding forth
of evidence from whence a thing may be argued and proved to be true, examples of
which may be found in Hebrews 2:4; Acts 14:3; John 5:36, John 10:25. When the
Scripture speaks of the seal of the Spirit, which means the same as the witness,
it is an expression which properly denotes not an immediate voice or
suggestion—but some work or effect of the Spirit, left as a divine mark upon the
soul, to be an evidence by which God’s children are to be known. When God sets
his seal upon a man’s heart by his Spirit, there is some holy stamp, some image
impressed and left upon the heart by the Spirit, as by the seal upon the wax.
This mark enstamped by the Spirit upon God’s children is his own image, and this
is the very thing which in Scripture is called the seal of the Spirit, and the
witness or evidence of the Spirit." (Jonathan Edwards on the Religious
Affections, vol. 4, p. 132.)

Still, I will not deny that there are seasons when the Spirit of God shines in,
by his gracious and sovereign illumination, upon his own work in the soul,
enabling the believer to recognize, with unusual clearness, his spiritual state
as a child of God—assisting him to come to a more unhesitating, undoubting
conclusion that he is going on to heaven, and shall finally reach it through all
opposition and difficulties. At such times God does come to them with his
richest consolations, to be his own present witness in the believer’s soul, to
disperse doubts, to dissipate fears, and to assure his heart. Surely you who
read this know something about it. Times have been, if they are not now, when
you felt these comforts in your soul, and rose into the exclamation, "I have
found it, I have found it!" God came to you—he soothed, softened, and persuaded
your heart. Perhaps you were in the closet, observing a season of humiliation
and prayer, or engaged in some difficult and self-denying service, or on a bed
of sickness, or at the Lord’s supper; still it was something more than mere
impression, it was the Spirit, shining upon his own work; bringing out, in
strong relief the characters he had impressed on the soul, and assisting you to
say, with an unwavering tongue, "I am my beloved’s—and he is mine." A question,
perhaps, will here be asked by some, whether this assurance may be obtained at
the time of conversion, or must be waited for, and sought in the progress of
sanctification. No doubt it may be, and in many cases is, the blessed privilege
of some in the very first stage of their religious history. The Philippian
jailor, no doubt, possessed it on the very night of his conversion. The three
thousand converted on the day of Pentecost appear to have possessed it at the
time of their reception of the gospel. They believed, rejoiced and hoped. They
were conscious they believed, and seem to have had no doubt of their faith.
These, however, were sudden conversions, in one case from Paganism and the other
from Judaism, in each of which the change was so great, so clear, and so
decisive, that the consciousness of the internal renovation must have been all
but absolute and undoubting certainty. And in many modern cases of sudden
conversion, the same conclusive evidence must appear to the subjects of it. Such
people are too apt to suppose that all who really believe, must, as soon as they
believe, have a full assurance of both faith and hope; forgetful of the very
slow steps by which many who have all their lives enjoyed gospel privileges,
come to the persuasion that they have "the faith of God’s elect." To affirm that
every sinner, on his first believing apprehension of the gospel, must have this
full assurance, this undoubting confidence, is to affirm that the discernment
and faith of all believing sinners must, at the very outset, be the same, and
that in all it must be perfect. In very many cases, even the assurance of faith
is not attained until after long struggles with doubt, and long struggles after
holiness; and until there be a settled consciousness of faith, there can be no
assurance of hope.

We now take up another inquiry of great interest and importance. "How is it,
that so many professors do not possess this assurance?" Very many ought not to
possess it. They have no right to it. They are better without it. In their case
it would be sheer presumption and delusion. They are but nominal believers; yet
even many of those, I am aware, have a vague and general persuasion of safety.
They are professors; church members; have been admitted to the sacrament—and
conclude, without fear or concern, that all is safe. There are many church
members who have a false assurance—the assurance of ignorance, of delusion, of
profession—not the assurance of understanding, not the assurance of faith, not
the assurance of hope in the Scriptural meaning of the term. Theirs is but "the
hope of the hypocrite, which will perish in the day when God takes away his
soul." The extreme worldliness of a large proportion of professors of all
denominations, too clearly proves that their hearts cannot be right in the sight
of God—that they are going on with their profession as a lie in their right
hand, and with that confident expectation of heaven, which will end in the
bitter anguish of disappointment. And thus, when they hoped to awake up from the
sleep of death in Paradise—they will lift up their eyes in the torments of the
bottomless pit!

Among real Christians there is, as we have already said, a lamentable degree of
uncertainty about their spiritual state. Comparatively few are living in the
happy persuasion of their eternal safety, and are comforted with the idea that
they are going to glory. Of these, some are too lukewarm and too worldly in the
habitual frame of their minds, too partially sanctified in their temper and
spirit—for their faith to be self-evident to their consciousness. There may be
the root of the matter in them, the principle of faith—but it is so deeply
covered over with obstruction as not to be allowed to sprout—or so choked with
thorns when it begins to grow that its life can be scarcely discerned. The cares
of business or of domestic life, the taste for luxurious ease and indulgence,
the practice of worldly amusements now too common among professors, wither and
shrivel their piety. How can they, amid such circumstances, be assured of their
eternal happiness? No wonder if, when asked whether they really believe they are
children of God, they shake their heads and say they have no assurance.
Scriptural hope is a heavenly exotic, and cannot grow in such soil and in such
an atmosphere. They must have a stronger faith in things unseen and eternal—a
faith that overcomes this world by the belief of another—before they can rejoice
in an assured hope of life eternal. Doubts and fears are the weeds indigenous to
the barren soil of lukewarm piety. These lukewarm professors almost make a merit
of their doubts and fears, and by a most fatal delusion seem to think they offer
amends for their lack of spiritual religion, by a spurious kind of humility. You
will not infrequently hear them say to more vigorous and happy Christians, "Ah,
it is all very well for you to talk about assurance, though it seems almost
presumptuous for you—but as for me, I am content to go humbly to heaven, and
shall think myself well of if I can get within the doors, just over the
threshold. My language is ,

"A guilty, weak and helpless worm, On your kind arms I fall; O be my strength
and righteousness, My Jesus and my all."

What, in many cases, is the meaning of all this? Why, "I have so little true
religion and so much of the world mixed up with it—that I do not know whether I
have any at all." It is the resort and refuge of the lukewarm, the careless, and
the indolent—the piteous cry of the spiritual sloth.

There are, I am aware, timid, yet spiritual minds to whom this will not apply;
whose doubts and fears are the natural product of their physical organization,
or the partial understanding of their privileges, and who shrink from this happy
persuasion of safety as from unwarranted presumption. So did not the prophet
Habakkuk, when he said, "The Lord God is my strength, and he will make my feet
as hind’s feet, and he will make me to walk upon my high places." Christians
should all seek, like the gazelle upon the mountain, bounding from height to
height, to ascend the high places of Christian experience, and go from one
eminence of holy joy to another.

Ignorance, I repeat, of what assurance really means, is the cause why many do
not enjoy it. They want, and suppose they are warranted to expect, a certainty
of reaching heaven as undoubting as if they were within its gates. They hear
many, in somewhat ostentatious language, boasting of this undoubting certainty,
speaking as confidently as if they not only stood upon the threshold of
heaven—but had passed through its gates. "If this be assurance," say they, "I
know nothing of it." They had better know nothing of it, for it savors of
presumption. Toplady’s couplet is not borne out by Scripture, where when
speaking of God’s people, he says, More blessed—but not more secure, The
glorified spirits in heaven. This may be true in reference to the purpose of
God—but not in reference to our condition, for we are to work out our salvation
with fear and trembling.

Modesty keeps some from this state of mind. Modesty, when nothing more than
self-jealousy arising out of the knowledge of the heart’s deceitfulness, is a
salutary and proper condition of the soul. "Blessed is the man that fears
always." But the modesty that keeps the soul from the enjoyment of its
privileges, and also the performance of its duties, which holds it in
despondency, and causes it to go sorrowing when it should go rejoicing, is a
fault, yes, a sin. I know that it is an infinite and eternal matter that is at
stake—that a mistake in such a concern is also an infinite and eternal
mischief—and that many do mistake—but surely even these considerations should
not hinder you from the enjoyment of assurance, if you are really conscious of
the sincerity of your faith, and that consciousness is upheld by the practical
love of God. Do not deem this happy state of mind, presumption in you. You are
authorized, invited, yes, even commanded to indulge it. Be humble; for you ought
to be—but be joyful.

See to it that you are building upon the only true foundation, which is Christ,
and are adding to your faith virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness,
brotherly-kindness, and love; and then look up, even with the consciousness of
many imperfections and shortcomings, to the glory to be revealed, and exultingly
say, "It is mine." Do not be afraid of your privileges. Remember that the
exercise of your affections towards Christ is not your justifying
righteousness—but Christ himself—when, though you love him sincerely, you can
never love sufficiently.

There are many who profess to have this full assurance of hope. They are
confident of their safety. I have no objection to this state of mind when it is
well founded and properly expressed. When antinomianism was more prevalent than
happily it now is, there was a spurious assurance among its professors which
rested in a strong presumption of their election by God. They valued themselves
on their supposed soundness in the doctrines of grace, and looked with arrogant
contempt on those who really built heir hope of salvation upon Christ—but did
not go all lengths with them in their views of a divine sovereignty in the
salvation of sinners. They were loud in their boasts of being delivered from the
bondage of slavish fears, of the certainty of their election, and of their
reaching heaven at last. "They were pharisaical foes of pharisaism, uttering the
spirit of the pharisee in the language of the tax-collector, humbling themselves
in words with a conscious self-elation at their humbling themselves so well.
Whatever were their professions, they built their assurance, not on the rock of
ages—but on a concealed part of self. There was no great difference between them
and the legalists, whom they despised, and against whom they bitterly inveighed;
those thought to gain heaven by doing—these by knowing—which they mistook for
believing. They proposed to build their hopes upon Christ—but forgot that he
must be a Christ believed in, loved, and obeyed—as well as talked of. They were
so valiant for the truth that many of them contended for it at the tavern and
upon the ale bench."

Happy, I say, this sect has sunk—but perhaps some near akin to it still remain,
who need to be reminded that no assurance is of a right kind which does not make
its possessor holy—instead of being worldly and careless about sin; humble—in
opposition to pride; modest and retiring—instead of being ostentatious and
obtrusive; and loving and charitable—instead of being intolerant, censorious,
and contemptuous.

Before I conclude this chapter, I would say a few words concerning that
excessive solicitude about their spiritual state, and that constant exercise of
introspection in which some really pious people and spiritually-minded
Christians indulge. They are too much like some disgruntled patients who are
distressingly nervous about their health. These people are ever anxiously
feeling their pulse, minutely watching their symptoms, and studiously consulting
books on dietetics and disease. The least variation of their sensations
occasions alarm, as if some mortal disease had just put out a prognosis of
death. How much better, and how much more comfortable would these
self-distressed and often inert patients be, if, after having ascertained, which
by medical help they might do, that there was no serious disease, they went
forth into the world and gave their fears to the wind.

There are nervous patients in the spiritual world as well as the natural
one—pious people, whose whole life nearly is spent in looking into their hearts,
analyzing their spiritual symptoms, and drawing hopeful or unfavorable
conclusions concerning their eternal safety; now hoping—then fearing; today all
cheerfulness—tomorrow all gloom; at one time, because a little more free and
earnest in prayer, or happy in feeling, going on their way rejoicing—and, at
another time, journeying with downcast looks, because of supposed indifference
and lukewarmness. Far be it from me to take off the attention of any one from
"keeping the heart with all diligence," or abating one atom of that godly fear
and jealousy which we ought all to maintain over ourselves, or letting down our
watchfulness, or slackening our diligence. But surely having examined ourselves
and come to a well founded conclusion that we have passed from death unto life,
our Christian life ought not to be spent in this state of spiritual nervousness;
and I advise such sufferers to be looking more to Jesus, and less to themselves;
to employ themselves in all the activities of the Christian life, and they may
be assured that exercise will as certainly promote the health of the soul as it
does that of the body.


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  CHAPTER 50: 04.07.     THE AUTHOR OF HOPE
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THE AUTHOR OF HOPE

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the
heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us
birth through the word of truth." James 1:17-18 This is true of every temporal
benefit. God is the fountain of all good, even of that which has reference to
the body. All mercies must be traced to him as their true source. This is
especially the case of all spiritual blessings. Their springs are all in heaven.
The whole work of grace in the soul is God’s doing. Regeneration contains
enfolded in itself all the graces of the Spirit, just as all the parts of the
ripe corn in the ear are all comprehended in the kernel that is sown in the
earth. But, as in the latter case, the fostering influence of the soil and the
elements are necessary to bring out the blade and the ear—so God’s grace, in the
conversion of the soul, which has given the living principle of all its various
developments in sanctification, still carries on the process of the new
creation.

Each manifestation of spiritual life requires a separate and specific operation
of divine power. We must look to God for each—and expect each from him. Faith is
one gift of his hand, hope is another, love is another—and so of all the
exercises that go to make up the Christian character. We find that this accords
exactly with our own experience. We do not in prayer merely ask for grace for
the Christian life as a whole—but for grace in each part. We often feel our need
of one virtue more strongly at one time, and in particular circumstances, than
another—and our errand to the throne is for special help with regard to that one
grace. This applies to the grace we are now considering, I mean hope, of which
God is the author. It is worthy of remark, that we know God more by what he is
to us, than what he is in himself—more by his works than by his abstract
nature—more, in short, by what he does, than by what he is. In himself he is not
only an eternal truth—but an infinite mystery. Who, by searching, can find out
God? How can the finite grasp the infinite? And is it not an approach of God,
one step nearer to our conceptions of him, when he is revealed to us by his
special operation in the production of individual Christian virtues? Thus he is
called "the God of peace," "the God of all consolation," and "the God of hope."
This cannot relate to what he is in his own nature—but what he is to us.

He is the God of hope in every aspect of the case. He commands it, approves it,
and is indeed the object of it—but the true meaning is, that he is Author of it.
The exercise of it in the soul of the believer is the work of his own Spirit,
Not only is the principle of it implanted in the soul but every exercise of it
is called out by his grace. It is a part of his own working in us "to will and
to do." Christian hope, in its true meaning, is a great, a difficult, and
therefore, a rare thing. There is really very little of it in the world. If it
meant nothing more than loose, vague, cold, careless, and uninfluential
expectation of some kind of happiness somewhere in a place called heaven, which
most men, however worldly or wicked, indulge—there is plenty of this false
hope—and which needs no act of divine power to produce it. This is easy enough
and common enough. But such a desire and expectation of the eternal world as is
set forth in the Scriptures, which shall give a present kind of reality to it,
which shall keep the soul diligent in all Christian duties, patient under all
trials, and holy amid temptations; such a hope as subordinates earthly things to
heavenly ones, and temporal matters to eternal ones; this is a state of mind too
rarely found on earth—and wherever it is found, is always the work of divine
grace. A man can no more rise to this exaltation without divine aid, than he
can, by his own strength and effort, fly up to the clouds. The object of hope,
when rightly understood, is so vast, so wonderful, so transcending all our
conceptions, being immense, infinite, and eternal—we ourselves are so utterly
unworthy of it, all our circumstances in this world of visibilities tend so
entirely to draw away our attention from it, on account of its being altogether
invisible and unattainable—as many things here demand and deserve our
attention—so many appearances, if we were to judge only by sense, seem to render
it probable that death is the end of us all, and so many believe it to be
so—that really when we come to consider the matter deliberately and
intelligently, we must at once be convinced that a settled practical hope of
eternal life beyond the grave is not within the compass of man’s unaided powers.
To lift the soul above the predominant influence of things seen and temporal,
and bring it within the attraction of things unseen and eternal, is the work of
Omnipotence alone! Hence it is said, "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ, who, according to his abundant mercy, has begotten us, by the
resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to a living hope." And he who begins
the work of hope must carry it on. God, in conversion, gives no stock of grace
that renders us independent of him for sanctification, nor in giving us any
particular religious principle, gives us a sufficiency of strength for all its
future exercises. There is no clockwork mechanism in true religion, which, being
wound up and set a going, may be left to itself to work on. Whatever of general
laws there may be in either the natural or spiritual world, it is still true of
both, that in him we not only live—but move, and have our being. This is full of
instruction, admonition, and consolation to the real Christian. It teaches him
his dependence upon God for this, as well as for every other part of the
Christian character. It shows him when to look, and when to go, and what to
do—in order to maintain this delightful state of soul. It is well to become most
intimately acquainted with all that is connected both with our safety and
comfort in the divine life. Let the believer who is anxious, not only to
maintain—but to strengthen his desires and expectations of eternal glory, never
forget that in this, as in every other respect, he is just what divine grace
makes him. Let him beware of thinking he is equal to this, or to anything else
that is good of himself. It is a dangerous thing to suppose that anything
spiritual is easy, and to lose sight for a moment of our need of divine help.
But this is not only instructive—but admonitory. If every exercise of hope be
performed by a divine power working in us, how constant, earnest, and believing
should be our prayers for divine grace to assist us. What a subject for prayer!
Christian hope! How necessary for our sanctification and consolation. What a
motive this to prayer. Let us make this a special subject of believing
supplication. Have we done this? Are we doing it? Are we not too general in our
petitions at the throne of grace? Do we analyze the one generic subject of true
religion, and resolve it into its specific and various parts of faith, hope,
loves, and make each by itself a separate object of desire and subject of
prayer? Do we at one time dwell specially upon belief, and, with enlargement of
soul, pray, "Lord, increase my faith?" Do we at another dwell upon hope, and
pray that we may "abound in this grace also?" Do, we, at a third time, expatiate
in our supplications upon love, and entreat that we may "increase more and more
in this, in knowledge and in all judgment?"

If we observe the apostle’s order and method of prayer for the churches, this
was his way of procedure. Did he not pray, in reference to the graces we are now
considering, that the believing Romans may abound in hope? Were we as much in
earnest as we should be, we would, in regard to our soul’s concerns, be far more
particular than we are; we would descend more to detail, and attend more to the
several parts of true religion; we would exercise our care for our souls as we
do for our bodies. In reference to the latter, we do not think it enough to
attend to the general state of our health, will keep up the tone of our
constitution, though this is very important—but we descend to a minute
inspection and care of every part of every limb, every organ, every function; we
consider which is weak and needs strengthening, which is diseased and requires
remedy. Let us then be much in prayer to God for an increase of hope. And then,
how consolatory is it to know that God is both able and willing to bestow it
upon us. Why is he called "the God of hope," but to encourage our prayers? It is
a sweet invitation, a blessed attraction, a kind of motive power, that he is
thus set before us. Why, believer, he is "the God of hope." It is one of his
very titles. He is "waiting to be gracious," He is glorified in bestowing this
grace. He can, and will, if you ask him, fill you with hope even to the full
assurance. It is your own fault if you are not "rejoicing in hope." There is no
obstacle but your own unbelief. You are straitened in yourselves, not in him. He
can "do above all you ask or think." Try him. You have never yet done this as
you should. You have not, perhaps desired to abound in this grace; you are
contented with the scanty measure you have; or you are in doubt and unbelief,
and are ready to imagine you can never rise above your present low level. Cast
away such unworthy ideas, and go to God strong in faith to be made more earnest
in desire, more confident in expectation, and you shall be astonished at your
success.


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  CHAPTER 51: 04.08.     HOPE AS AN ANCHOR
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HOPE AS AN ANCHOR

"Wherein God, willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of promise the
immutability of his counsel, confirmed it by an oath: That by two immutable
things, in which it was impossible for God to lie, we might have a strong
consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us.
Which hope we have as an ANCHOR of the soul, both sure and steadfast, and which
enters into that within the veil." Hebrews 6:17-19 This figure of speech, which
is a very instructive and impressive one, is found in a passage of Holy Writ, is
as striking, perhaps, in some respects, as any that can be found in the Bible.
Such is the cable, if I may so speak, strong and unbreakable, to which the
anchor is fixed. This passage is so rich in all that can comfort the heart of
the believer, that before we come to the particular portion of it, which is the
subject of this chapter, we may glance at its general contents. The people for
whom this wonderful passage is intended, are described by two things—first, as
"The heirs of what was promised." This refers to the promise made to Abraham of
the Messiah, "in whom all the families of the earth are to be blessed," a
promise which comprehends in itself all the blessings of the New Covenant. Of
this vast possession every true believer is an heir. Under each and every one of
the covenanted blessings, he may write, "Mine!" all those promises which are
"exceeding great and precious," which are "yes and amen in Christ Jesus," are
his own to be appropriated as occasion may require. How rich, how vast, how
inexhaustible a possession! Such a man need not envy the heir to a throne. But
the believer is also described as one who had "fled for refuge to lay hold of
the hope set before him." In this there is an allusion to the man-slayer, who
had unintentionally slain a fellow-creature, and had betaken himself to the city
of refuge provided by the law of Moses, where he was safe from the avenger of
blood. Thus the believer has fled to Christ our hope, and is safe in him from
the sword of divine justice. Safe in Christ! Oh—what ineffable peace does that
thought afford. Safe as Noah in the ark—when the deluge was rising and roaring
around! And what does the passage say of these happy people! Why that "God is
more abundantly willing that they should have"—what? Salvation? Yes—but more
than that, "strong consolation!" Not only the salvation that is in Christ Jesus
with eternal glory—but, consolation on the way to it—a happy home at the end of
the journey, and a happy journey to it. There is a fullness and richness of
expression here which is surprising. The text speaks not only of consolation—but
strong consolation. Not only that God is "willing" they should be consoled—but
"abundantly willing," yes, "more" abundantly willing.

It is delightful to dwell on this iteration and re-iteration of terms, this
heaping of expression upon expression to show how intent God is, not merely upon
the happiness of his people in heaven—but their comfort upon earth. He is not
willing they should go sorrowing and downcast to glory—but that they should go
on their way rejoicing, yes "with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads,"
that they should go singing to their crown. A gloomy, dejected, depressed
believer is acting in opposition to God’s intention. Therefore lift up the hands
that hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees. Take your harp from the
willows, sorrowful men. You may "sing the Lord’s song in a strange land," for
you are on your way out of it! You have Canaan’s goodly country in view. Let the
joy of the Lord be your strength. And what has God done to furnish and promote
this consolation? What has he not done? What has he left undone? The apostle
tells us of "the immutability of God’s counsel." What counsel? His counsel about
our salvation. This word "counsel," applied to man, means confidence between
different people, deliberation, decision guided by, and based upon, patient
consideration. But with whom "did God take counsel, who instructed him and
taught him in the path of judgment, and taught him knowledge, and showed to him
the way of understanding?" If the word means anything more than infallible
wisdom and action which is the result of Omniscience, it can refer only to that
same mysterious conference of which the historian of man’s fall speaks—where God
is represented as saying, "Let us make man in our image."

Everything God does is the effect of counsel with himself. Everything in nature,
and in providence, and especially in grace, is wisely done—it is all right,
good, best—all the effect of counsel. This counsel means his fixed, wise, and
benevolent purpose to save all who believe the gospel. What if this purpose,
like the plans and purposes of man, could be changed? Why then, the heavens
might be clothed in sackcloth, and the earth in mourning. Then we might call on
universal nature to become vocal, and utter one loud, deep groan. But what with
God? "The mountains shall depart, and the hills be removed—but my kindness shall
not depart from you, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, says the
Lord that has mercy on you."—Isaiah 54:10.

If God changed his plans; if he were controlled by caprice; if he willed one
thing today, and another thing tomorrow, who could confide in him, or have any
hope of heaven? If he could change in his purpose and his plans, we could, at
best, possess only a trembling and uncertain expectation of eternal life. All we
could say, is, that it is possible or probable we might be saved—but there could
be no certainty. Not only could there be no strong consolation—but no
consolation at all. Everything therefore depends upon the divine immutability.
Hence his own glorious declaration, "I, the Lord, change not," and hence also
the apostle’s beautiful description of God, as "The Father of lights, with whom
is no variableness, nor shadow of change."—James 1:17.

Believer, is not this "strong consolation?" You have scarcely anything certain
but your salvation, and that is certain. God has purposed it, planned it,
promised it; and God cannot change. Lift up your eyes to yon snow-crowned
mountain; lift them higher still to that blazing sun; higher still to those
fixed stars, and you may sooner expect all these to change, and to sink again
into the nothing from which the Creator called them forth, than God’s purpose to
change, and your salvation, if you are a true Christian, to fail. Let us
luxuriate in the idea that amid all the mutabilities of earth and time, all the
vicissitudes of human affairs—and, indeed, what is humanity in all its range of
events but one endless series of change—still there is one Being who is
unchangeable, and that is God; one event that is certain, and that is salvation.
The immutability of God is the crowning glory of his character; for what would
be all the other glories, if it were possible they could change? This is equally
the bliss of angels and of men; is no less the guarantee of the hopes of the
former than of the latter. Christian, hear, then, with rapture, what God says,
"I, the Lord, change not," and let that one attribute of Deity be the joy of
your heart, and make a separate song of that glorious word, IMMUTABILITY. But
this is not all, for the passage we are considering speaks of our "strong
consolation" established two immutable things. And what are those? The promise
and the oath of God. His very Word of grace is strong, As that which built the
skies; The voice that rolls the stars along Spoke all the promises.

"Give me your word of promise," we say to a man of known and tried veracity,
"and it is as good as your bond." But still his falsehood is possible, though
improbable. But it is "impossible for God to lie." His infinite holiness places
lying beyond his capability; under every promise we can write, "True, eternally,
unalterably true." Why, then, has he added his OATH? This is a surprising view
of God and God’s doings. Jehovah is brought before us, in the solemn act of
making oath. But to whom shall HE appeal; whom shall he call to witness the
truth of his affirmation? "Because he can swear by no greater, he swears by
himself." But why, I repeat, this wondrous transaction? Why treat his promise,
as if it required for its credibility, the guarantee of an oath? Why thus add
immutability to immutability? The apostle answers the question—"An oath for
confirmation is the end of all strife." In the communion of society, and in the
transactions of business, an oath is considered, on account of its solemn appeal
to heaven, and its implied imprecation of divine vengeance upon falsehood, an
additional ground of confidence, because an additional pledge of veracity. And
it is in allusion to this, that God, with infinite condescension to our
weakness, adopts our own forms, and adds his oath to his promise, that" by two
immutable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we might have strong
consolation who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us."
He knows what suspicious, timid, fearful, and desponding creatures we are; how
powerful our unbelief is, and how weak is our faith—how apt we are to carry our
doubts of the veracity of our fellow creatures into our communion with Him—and
with a stoop of pity to our weakness, he adopts our own customs, takes up the
very bonds by which we guard our veracity, and "swears" as well as "promises,"
that he will save all who believe in Christ. Oh, Christian, stand amazed at
God’s condescension and kindness, and blush for your unbelief and your
cheerlessness, and come into the enjoyment of a strong consolation; and in order
to that, come into the exercise of a strong faith.

We now take up the subject of this chapter, which is, hope considered as the
anchor of the soul. Some have thought there is an appearance of unnaturalness in
the apostle’s representation of an anchor, "entering within the veil, where the
forerunner has entered for us, even Jesus." But in fact he does not so represent
it. It is only the hope that enters heaven, not the anchor. True, this affection
is compared to an anchor—but the metaphor is immediately dropped, and is not
intended to be carried to the end of the sentence.

(A similar criticism may be made upon another figurative passage, I mean Hebrews
4:12—"For the Word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged
sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the
joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart."
Now, it is asked, is there not a confused metaphor here? or, how can it be
conceived that the word of God can act upon the body, and sever its parts? The
apostle supposes no such thing. His design is to represent the sharp and
penetrating power of Christian truth, and he likens it to the power of a sword,
which in its operation, when thrust into the body, separates the soul, that is,
the physical life, from the spirit, or immaterial part of our nature, and
reaches the very bones and the marrow they contain. There are the adjuncts of
the metaphor—but not the thing signified. The Word is like a sharp sword, which
this operates in the hand of him that holds it.) The apostle, in the former
expression, "The hope set before us," speaks of hope objectively; in the latter,
subjectively. As the language is a metaphor, shall I be thought lacking in good
taste, if I now carry on the figure? I am not prone to this species of
composition, and severely condemn it, when applied to Scripture in the way of
fanciful interpretation, and when introduced to the pulpit as a means of
popularity. Still, we have Scriptural authority for its occasional use. Where
the apostle represents the Christian life as a conflict, he carries out the
first metaphor by an allegory, or, at any rate, a consecutive series of
metaphors, into all the details of offensive and defensive warfare. And now,
when he speaks of an anchor, may I not innocently, yet briefly, advert to all
that is implied by such a figure? An anchor supposes a ship, a ship a voyage, a
voyage an ocean, an ocean a haven of destination, and several other particulars.
Is not human life often called a VOYAGE, and do we not often speak of embarking
on the troubled ocean of human affairs? Upon that ocean, viewed now as lying
between earth and heaven, the believer launches his noble ship to pursue her
heaven-bound course. This ocean, like every other, is subject to restless and
ever-changing tides, and is exposed to storms above, and to rocks and quicksands
below. Amid winds and waves the Christian’s vessel ploughs the deep.

Precious beyond all estimate is the FREIGHT it bears. What was the wealth of the
ancient galleon ships bearing home the treasures of the east, or of our modern
steamers laden with precious freight, compared with that which is contained in
one human soul? Were all the jewels yet hidden in the veins of the earth, as
well as all that are in the possession of men above it, with all the gold
Omnipotence ever created, embarked on board the mammoth vessel now preparing,
and that ship, with its incalculable cargo, were to sink to the bottom of the
ocean, it would be a trifling calamity compared with the loss of one human soul!
For, said he who made the soul and the world too, and knows well the comparative
value of both, "What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses
his own soul?" Such is the treasure on board each vessel that sails on the ocean
lying between earth and heaven, time and eternity. What a shipwreck is the loss
of a soul! Is there not danger of this? Is not the shore strewed with wrecks,
and are not fragments of the broken vessels ever to be seen floating on the
surface of the waves? And what is the CHART by which the mariner is to be guided
in his course? The Word of God. This chart is well drawn by the pen of
inspiration. There can be no false directions here; no omissions of rocks, and
shoals, and quicksands; no lack of landmarks and beacons. All that is necessary
to ensure a safe voyage is explicitly indicated. None that consult and follow
this can run upon an unknown peril. Do you ask for the COMPASS? It is the cross
of Christ. He who keeps his eye of faith steadily fixed on that, and steers by
it, will never go out of his course. Does the wise mariner approaching a
dangerous coast, and entering upon a difficult navigation, trust to his own
knowledge, and his own soundings? No! He signals for a pilot, and gives up to
him the helm and guidance of the ship. And will not the Christian mariner trust
to the pilotage and guidance of him who calmed the winds and the waves of the
sea of Tiberius? Will he not, should he not, give up his whole soul into the
hauls of Jehovah Jesus? Yes, and in the storm and tempest sing, as well as say,
with, the poet—

"Begone, unbelief, my Savior is near, And for my relief will surely appear; By
prayer let me wrestle, and he will perform; With Christ in the vessel, I smile
at the storm. And what is the HAVEN, the destined port, the wished-for home? The
Paradise of God—yes, that is the peaceful haven to which the holy voyager to
eternity is directing his course, and steering his vessel; that which is viewed
by faith, and longed for by hope, is ever seen inviting us to retire from the
tossings and perils of this unquiet ocean to a sacred enclosure—a sequestered
spot, which the storms and tempests of the world are not permitted to invade.
But let us now consider the ANCHOR and its uses, and see how far these apply to
the grace of Christian hope.

1. An anchor is of use in a time of CALM, to prevent the ship from DRIFTING.
When a captain intends and desires his ship to remain near the shore, and
especially in a bay, or any exposed situation where the tide runs strong, he
takes great care to secure, if possible, a good anchorage, and the anchor is
immediately dropped to prevent the ship from being drifted ashore by the tide,
which, without this precaution, would inevitably be the case when the tide is
flowing. Vessels, therefore, without the anchor, would be stranded in a calm as
well as wrecked in a storm. So is it in the Christian life. There also is the
tide sitting in, and oh, how strongly, upon the shores of earth. The world is,
indeed, a very dangerous foe to the believer. To very, very many it is the most
destructive one. They are not so likely to be subdued by open vice as by
worldly-mindedness. It would not, I know, be safe to say of any who are yet in
the flesh, however strong in virtue, that immorality is impossible with them—but
we may say of multitudes, that it is in the last degree improbable. All may see
just reason to say, "Keep back your servant from presumptuous sins," for Satan,
the tempter, has no respect for age, experience, office, rank, or sex, and would
be glad to catch in the coils of vice the old and saintly, as well as the young,
professor. Yet it is not thus that he attempts to ruin the great majority of
souls—it is by worldly-mindedness, by which I mean a predominant and all but
supreme and exclusive regard to "things seen and temporal."

There are two or three things which, in setting forth this subject, must be
taken into consideration, such as that God in Christ is the supreme object of a
true Christian’s love, the chief source of his felicity, the highest end of
life. The salvation of his soul is the first object of his desire, pursuit and
expectation. The chief end of man, and man’s abode on earth, is to glorify God
here, and enjoy him forever. Our great business on earth is to fit for heaven,
and our main concern in time is to prepare for eternity. Can any of these
postulates be denied? If not, let them be well pondered. Let the judgment,
heart, will, and conscience be all summoned to the devout meditation upon them,
and then let us say how, in what manner, and to what degree, the world ought to
be regarded by us. No object, however lawful in itself, however pure, innocent,
or commendable, must be regarded in a way that is incompatible with these
acknowledged principles. "If any man loves the world," says the apostle, in a
passage which ought to ring through all Christendom, and make the ears of
millions tingle, and their hearts to palpitate with fear and alarm—"If any man
loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him." What is the world? Not
merely open sin and vice, profligacy, idolatry, infidelity, heresy! Oh no, the
world contains many things besides the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh,
and the pride of life—things more decent, more innocent, more rational, more
commendable than these vile objects. Everything on earth, however fair, laudable
and excellent in itself, everything besides God, is the world. Your business is
the world, your family is the world; your house and comfortable home are the
world, the wife of your bosom, the children whom God has given you, are the
world. "What! then," you exclaim, "are we not to love these?" Yes, in proper
degrees—but not more than God. You are not to seek from them your highest
happiness. You are not to be more solicitous to secure them than heaven. It is
of a ’supreme love’ the apostle speaks.

How plain is this from our Lord’s exposition and summary of the law, "You shall
love the Lord your God with all your mind, and soul, and strength." How still
more explicit from the other words of Christ, "Anyone who loves his father or
mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter
more than me is not worthy of me." Matthew 10:37. Christian professors, there is
need to have these solemn, yet righteous, demands sent with a voice of thunder
into your places of business and scenes of domestic comfort. You have need to be
told that all this engrossing solicitude about business; all this eager haste to
be rich; all this ambition to add house to house, and field to field; all this
taste for elegance, show and fashion; all this competition for name and fame,
which leads to a neglect of salvation, to departure from God, to indifference to
heaven, is the love of the world, which is incompatible with the love of the
Father; and not less so that supreme and exclusive concern about domestic
enjoyment, that taste for fashionable amusements, or even that more refined and
simple love of home-bred delights, which still leaves out God, salvation, heaven
and eternity. Here, here, I repeat, is your peril. Here the enemy with which you
have to do battle. It is not vice, I say, it is not profligacy, it is
worldly-mindedness.

"They mind earthly things," said the apostle, when speaking of the enemies of
the cross of Christ. On the other hand, when speaking of the temper of his
friends and followers, he says, "We look not at the things which are seen—but at
the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal—but
the things which are not seen are eternal." The Christians of early days appear
to have done all things with an eye to heaven and eternity; "their buying and
selling, marrying and giving in marriage; their weepings and rejoicings—were all
measured, and checked, and subdued by the remembrance that the time is short,
and that "this world is fading away, along with everything it craves." They had
subdued the world by faith, and so lived as they would desire to be found by
him, at his coming.

There was a two-fold process ever going on within them—the energy of a daily
life, and the fixed contemplation of Christ’s advent. The ever-present
consciousness of their Master’s nearness was like some deep undertone which runs
through a strain of music, and gives it a serious and solemn spirit. Ah, how
different is it with professors now. Do we not see mere professors throwing
themselves wholly—body, soul, and spirit into their trade, into the cherished
objects of their ambition, into their entire devotedness to a worldly life. In
these things, and for them, they live! These things bind round and overgrow
their heart, stifle all serious thoughts, smother all heavenly desires. They
have no other energy of hope and fear, and neither look nor wait for anything
beyond. The great future has no power over them, the high heaven no fascinations
to attract them; these are too far off, too dimly seen, and too unsubstantial,
to counterpoise the gain of today, or the pleasures of tomorrow. The road that
leads to destruction is broad enough to comprise many parallel paths. And there
is one path crowded with professors of religion, walking in company, with
cheerful appearance, and elegant attire, and elastic step—but still walking to
perdition! Oh, yes, there is a way through the church, a decent, flowery,
down-hill way to eternal destruction—and there are many who take that road! And
even where worldliness is not so predominant and exclusive as all this, yet it
is in a multitude of professors, far too prevailing. It is the sin of the age,
and has deeply infected the church of Christ. While many are sunk in the mire,
and are sure to perish in their worldly sins, multitudes more are sadly
bespattered and have their feet so laden with the ’thick clay of earth’, as to
render their progress slow and their perseverance doubtful. The watchmen on the
walls and towers of Zion had need to sound their loudest voice of alarm against
this destructive foe, and tell the luxurious and slumbering inhabitants of the
city that a mighty foe is at the gates, and has already made an entrance into
the place! This soft extravagant, luxurious slothfulness—this ease-loving
disposition—is the bane of the present generation of professing Christians. The
robustness of spiritual strength, the hardihood of Christian courage, the
self-sacrificing disposition of ardent love, the cross-bearing temper of
ever-enduring self-denial, where are they? The church is reposing too much in
the lap of the world, or drowsily reclining on her bosom.

I do not forget that at the very time I am penning these lines, the armies of
the Lord are marshalling for conflict with the powers of darkness on the area of
Exeter Hall. This is true, and I rejoice over it with exceeding joy. But what is
all this compared with what the church of Christ could do, and ought to do; with
what professors are doing for themselves, and with that style of self-indulgence
in which the great bulk of them are living? Of how many of these may it be said,
that to get and enjoy the good and the great things of this life, seems to be
far more their aim than to secure eternal life, and fit for its enjoyment. How
few really make a business of true religion, and how much fewer make it their
great business? To come back to the subject and metaphor of this chapter, how
strong and rapid is the tide of worldly thoughts, feelings, and actions—setting
in upon the shores of earth and time. The language of the poet is what every
Christian ought to use and feel—

"Still more the treacherous calm I dread, than tempests raging o’er my head."
And what shall preserve us from drifting on the shore, and being stranded there?
The anchor! Let go your anchor, believer. You need it, I repeat, even more than
in the storm raging on the broad ocean. Why are Christians so worldly? Why have
the scenes and circumstances of earth, so powerful an influence over us? Why?
Just because our desires and expectations of the eternal realities and infinite
possessions of heaven are so little thought of—and so little cherished! Were the
mind kept in contemplation of these realities, and the soul more frequently
regaled with foretastes of the heavenly food and feast—it could not be content
to feed on the ashes and husks of this world!

It must feed on something; and in the absence of the former, it will take up
with the latter. Did we but consider what heaven is—and how near; did we but
really let our contemplation more steadily fix upon it; did we but redeem a
little more time from secular pursuits and domestic or social pleasures, to
meditate upon it; did we really and firmly believe all that is told us of it;
did we but inflame our desires after it, and enlarge our expectations of it; did
we but get a foresight and foretaste of its vast, rich, and imperishable
delights—how much would our regard to this world be diminished! How would the
’lights of earth’ twinkle and pale, and all but go out before the beams of the
excellent glory! What we have to do, then, is to get a more lively hope of our
eternal home! "For God has reserved a priceless inheritance for his children. It
is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and
decay!" 1 Peter 1:4 Have there not been seasons in the history of every
believer, when not only sinful—but ’lawful sweets’ were all forgotten, and when
earth dwindled in his view to its own insignificance? When even in sight of his
possessions, he wondered by what power they had cast such a spell over him. Let
us then go into our closet, as into a spiritual observatory, and adjusting the
telescope of God’s blessed Word to the heavenly object, fix the eye of faith to
the lens, and bring eternity and eternal glory near—until our desires after it
are kindled to the highest pitch, and our expectations of it are firmly grounded
and settled on the basis of divine revelation. Or keeping by the metaphor, let
us cast out the anchor, and ride in safety against the strongest tide that has
set in upon us. Did we not by experience know the contrary—we would be ready to
think that with such an object of hope as heaven—we would find it difficult to
be earthly! And yet sad experience teaches us, that surrounded as we are with
earthly things—it is difficult to be heavenly! Keep up the power of hope,
believer—and that will keep down the power and love of the world. And nothing
else will do it!

2. But there is another use of an anchor than that which we have just
considered, and that is to prevent the ship from being wrecked in a storm. Luke
tells us, in his description of Paul’s shipwreck, that "fearing lest they should
have fallen upon rocks, they cast their anchors out of the stern, and waited for
day." It is an interesting spectacle to see a noble vessel, when the hurricane
is hurling winds and waves upon her with a force and fury that threaten every
moment to dash her upon the rocks, or cast her upon the shore— fast by an
anchor; and however tossed about by the billow, riding out the tempest. And when
the storm is hushed, pursuing her voyage with her masts all standing, her sails
set, her pennant flying, and her crew rejoicing. And is not that the emblem of
Christians overtaken by one of those ’storms which so often sweep over the ocean
of human life’, and which cause so many and such fatal wrecks? I will advert to
some of these storms. The most violent and dreadful, and those to which
Scripture most frequently alludes, are those which are occasioned by
PERSECUTION. These sometimes rise into a great hurricane, resembling the typhoon
of eastern seas, or the tornadoes of the West Indian islands. What a page,
blackened with crime, and crimsoned with blood, has the pen of the Christian
historian written. The history of the whole world scarcely furnishes a recital
of such horrible sufferings as have been inflicted—first by pagans upon
Christians—and then by professing Christians upon one another, not indeed for
crimes—but for opinions! In this career of blood, POPERY sustains an unenviable
notoriety. It is conjectured that not less than fifty million Protestants have
been slaughtered by Papists!—with every variety of horrible deaths, and every
ingenuity of inventive torture. What mind can conceive the amount of agony which
must have been endured by this noble army of martyrs? And what, on the part of
their persecutors, is the moving principle of their cruelty? Intense
selfishness. And what on the part of their victims, is the principle of their
endurance? Christian hope. But for the hope of eternity, we would have never
heard of a martyr! And with hope, were the ages of bloody persecution to come
again—we would hear of millions more. Ancient pagans, who looked upon the
sufferers in the amphitheater, when offering themselves to be torn to pieces by
lions. And more modern observers, who have seen the sublime fortitude with which
even women have passed through the iron gates of the Catholic Inquisition, never
to return, or have yielded themselves up to the tortures of the rack or the
stake—have wondered what principle was strong enough to sustain these ’victims
of intolerance’ amid terrors and torments so unutterable. Our subject explains
the whole—the patience of HOPE. It is not merely faith—but hope. Faith may
believe in the reality, the glory, the eternity of a heaven for others—but hope
expects it for the individual’s own self. The key to the mystery of endurance in
times of persecution—the secret of all this invincible courage, which leads on
Christ’s heroes to the fearful conflict, and makes them more than conquerors on
the scaffold and at the stake—is the desire and expectation of the crown of
life! "They consider that the sufferings of this present life—are not worthy to
be compared with the glory to be revealed in them." They know "that their light
afflictions, which are but for a moment—work out for them a far more exceeding
and eternal weight of glory." Yes, it is this single expectation, which not only
makes them willing to endure one death—but would bring them to endure, if
possible, a thousand! So glorious does heaven appear, that they count not their
lives dear to them, that they might at last wear its honors, and enjoy its
felicities! But let any one imagine—if indeed it be possible to imagine, in his
circumstances of liberty, ease, and quiet—what a ’tempest’ the martyr has to
endure. He is a husband and a father; he has a pleasant home, and a happy circle
to share and enjoy it with him. While in the midst of all this pure delight, the
calm is disturbed by gathering clouds, and portents of a coming storm appear in
the horizon; the sky is soon overcast, the air is murky, and the rumblings of
distant thunders are heard; on comes the tempest roaring and pouring out all its
fury; the winds and the waves threaten him with immediate destruction—and what
is to save him from being swallowed up by apostasy, or dashed upon the rocks of
unbelief? His anchor! His anchor of hope!

Severely is he tried. He looks upon the wife of his bosom and the children of
his love; he surveys his quiet home and his ample fortune. Oh, to be torn from
these, to be immersed in a dungeon, to be tortured upon a rack, to be consumed
to ashes. How can he endure it? What a tumult of thought is in his soul. How his
flesh pleads! How the man recoils from suffering! How the ’husband and father’
shrink from separation! May he not concede a little? May he not for awhile
conceal—if he does not deny his principles? The conflict is terrible between
nature and grace. The vessel is driving upon the rocks! ’Fear’ is at the helm,
and with a weak and trembling hand is guiding the wheel! ’Faith’, like a good
pilot, springs to the helm, snatches the handle from the feeble grasp of fear,
and cries with a voice of strong authority, "Hoist the anchor!" It is done—the
anchor drops into the ocean—lays hold of the ’ground of promise’, and the vessel
is safe! The noble-minded believer sends up one piercing cry to heaven for
help—that cry is heard! His fainting courage revives—his fears of death are
subdued—his love of all that is dear to him on earth sinks below his love to
Christ—he recovers from his sadness—his dark desponding thoughts leave him—his
wavering purpose is fixed! Heaven appears to him in all its glories—eternity in
all its dread importance—and he exclaims, with the exultation of a hero, "who
shall separate me from the love of Christ! shall tribulation, or distress, or
persecution? No! in all these things I am more than conqueror, through him that
has loved me!" But persecution is not the only storm that arises on the voyage
to eternity. There are the ORDINARY CALAMITIES OF HUMAN LIFE, which are indeed
neither few nor small—such as the loss of health, or property, of friends, of
domestic comfort. "MANY are the afflictions of the righteous." There is no
exemption for them, from the sorrows of earth and time. God’s devout
children—his most devoted servants—travel home to their Father’s house through
the valley of tears! There is no other way to heaven—even for them. Yes, tears
are often wrung out to them—they seem often marked out for suffering, and, like
the man after God’s own heart, exclaim, "All your waves and your billows have
gone over me!" Their soul is sometimes so astonished and shaken with the
variety, weight, continuance, and peculiarity of their trials—that they are
thrown into the greatest perplexity of mind. Distressing and troublous thoughts
come into their minds—suggestions of carnal reason—fiery darts of
Satan—movements and stirrings of the flesh—until the poor soul, like Bunyan’s
Pilgrim when walking through the valley of the shadow of death, is assailed with
all kinds of horrid specters—and seems ready to perish!

Or, to return again to the figure of this chapter—the soul is tempest-tost upon
this troubled ocean—and ready to dash on the rocks of unbelief and despair—and
to give up all for lost! Now is the time for the anchor which the believer is at
length, after some difficulty, enabled to hoist. It is then that the promise,
the prospect, and the expectation of eternal glory—come with the greatest power
to his soul. Hope stills and composes those clamorous and disturbing thoughts,
which in affliction are apt, like the tempest birds in a storm, to flap their
wings and scream over the shattered vessel. This was David’s remedy, "Why are
you cast down, oh my soul, and why are you disturbed within me. Hope in God! For
I shall yet praise him."

It is a mercy in affliction, to be preserved from the delirium of the intellect.
And is it not also a mercy, to be kept from the delirium of the heart—from the
disquieting, distressing, misjudging surmises of unbelief? Now what ice is to
the brows of the former—cooling the blood, lowering the fever, and tranquilizing
the mind—that is hope to the latter. But this is not all it does, for in the
place of these distempered thoughts, so full of bitterness and venom, and
inflicting such pain—it fills the soul with the calm of peace and the notes of
joy—it helps the Christian to smile through his tears, and paints the
many-colored rainbow upon the dark clouds of grief. Hence the beautiful
expression of the apostle, "Rejoicing in hope of the glory of God" And what is
next? "We glory in tribulation also." No glorying in tribulation—if there is no
rejoicing in hope. This hope—when earth is a dry and barren desert, without one
drop of water, or one blade of verdure—fetches a cooling draught from the
crystal river of life, and fruit from the tree which grows on its banks!

Now all Christians, whether hopeful or despondent, are sometimes like the
disciples on the Sea of Galilee—driven here and there by contrary winds. They
toil all the night upon the sea, casting their nets—but catching nothing. No,
oftentimes their sea is without a Christ walking upon the water—and their ship
without a Christ—without even a ’sleeping Christ’. Yet when they desire his
coming upon the sea, and cry out to him—they soon see him walking to them over
the waves! And when they desire his awakening in the ship, they soon see him
rising to rebuke the wind, saying, "Peace, be still," until there is a great
calm.

God hides his face only to disclose it again; and ’his hidings’ are oftentimes
as full of mercy as his manifested presence. But whether to their feeble-sighted
eyes, he is present or absent—they may always know that he is not far from them
at any time! When there are ’clouds’ so that they cannot see him—they may look
at him through faith, and discern that he is not far off. And as those who are
overtaken by ’storms in the darkness of the night’—not knowing on what strange
shores they may be thrown—cast anchor and wait for day—so in the midst or trial
and temptation, when the storm is fierce and the night is dark, when the lights
are quenched and the signals gone—the believer may cast anchor. And if he waits
in faith and hopes for the day—it will always dawn. The darkness will always
hide itself—the light appear. There never was a night so long—that the day did
not overtake it. There never was a morning—without its morning star. There never
was a day—without its sun. But how does hope keep the soul quiet and steady in
these seasons of trial? I answer, by exhibiting the future rest which God has
provided for those who love him. There is in that one word "heaven," a balm for
every wound, a cordial for every fear! The soul reposes on the certainty of
heaven. "The traveler, when overtaken by a shower, can stand patiently under a
tree while it rains—because he hopes it is a shower, and sees it clear up in one
part of sky, though it is dark on another part. Providence, I am sure, is never
so dark and cloudy but hope can see fair weather. When the Christian’s affairs
are most disconsolate, he may soon meet with a happy change. It is but a moment,
said a holy martyr to his fellow-sufferers in the fire—and our pain and sorrow
are all over!" (Gurnall)

"For God has reserved a priceless inheritance for His children! It is kept in
heaven for you—pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay!" 1
Peter 1:4. Yes, says the sufferer, it is the CERTAINTY of future glory that
fills me with consolation! However bright were the prospect, however glorious
the scene—if I could not rely upon it, if I could entertain a doubt or a fear
that it were all an illusion—I could have no comfort! But to know that there is
a heaven to come, and that it is mine, is a consolation to be felt—though not
capable of being fully described. Nor is it the certainty only—but the GLORY of
that eternal state, its transcendent excellence that sustains the soul under its
trials. How expressive is the language of the apostle, already quoted, "I
reckon," says he, "that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be
compared with the glory to be revealed in us!" The value of a calculation
depends of course, upon its accuracy—and we are quite sure Paul was correct. He
had both his own experience and the power of inspiration to keep him from an
error. "It does not yet appear what we shall be." There is a glory to come too
great for language to describe, or imagination to conceive of—"an eternal weight
of glory." What an expression! Never to be understood until it is possessed. For
every pang, every sigh, every tear, every moment’s suffering—millions of ages of
ineffable, inconceivable felicity are to come! Can we wonder that hope of this
should keep the soul from being overwhelmed with affliction, and shipwrecked by
unbelief, despondency, and rebellion against God? And then hope not only rests
upon the certainty, and rejoices in the glory of heaven—but, expects that its
present sufferings will contribute to its future bliss. Every tear is the seed
of a smile; every groan the discord that prepared for a sweeter harmony; every
loss the means of again; every disappointment the cause of a fruition. A
believer parts with his comforts on earth to receive a full return of happiness
from the loss; just as the husbandman parts with his grain in sowing-time, to
receive it back a hundredfold in his crop at harvest-time. The Savior said of
himself; "Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and to enter into his
glory?" And our way to glory lies by the same road. He was officially made
perfect through suffering, and we must be personally made perfect by the same
means. Our trials may be as necessary to carry our souls to the haven of eternal
repose, as is the wind to carry the ship to her destined port.

We are very apt, in our ignorance, to call evil good, and good evil; to imaging
God is blessing us with his richest favors, when he causes the sun of prosperity
to shine with noontide splendor upon us, and that he is cursing us with his
heaviest judgments when our condition is overcast with the clouds of
adversity—but, the contrary may be the case; just as there times in regard to
agriculture, when sunshine is a curse, and clouds, and gloom, and rain, a
blessing. We need the cloud and the rain of adversity, as well as the sunshine
of prosperity, and far more. Hope has an eye to see heaven in a cloudy day, and
an anchor that can find a firm bottom to lay hold of, under a weight and depth
of waters. Here is its safe and blessed anchorage in that one passage, "We know
that all things work together for good to those who love God, and are the called
according to his purpose."

Afflictions, then, are among the all things which are working for our good; they
are like bitter medicines and sharp operations, which put us to present pain for
future health; and are like property sunk at present in unproductive employment,
to yield a large profit hereafter; or the troubled, stormy ocean, over which we
must sail to the haven of rest, for which we are promised, and through which we
are carried in safety, by having on board this anchor of hope. But of what use
is an anchor, if it be not a good one. Great care is taken to secure good iron,
and to have it well wrought for this purpose. Neglect in this particular would
endanger the best ship, having on board the richest cargo. And as it is not
every kind of material that will answer this purpose of an anchor; so it is not
every kind of hope that will preserve the soul from destruction.

There is such a thing as a false hope, and there is also a good one. That hope
only is good which rests on the foundation which God has laid in Zion, which is
fixed on the Heaven revealed in Scripture, and purifies the soul from sin and
worldliness. Let us look well to the nature of our anchor. And of what value is
the best anchor, if it be not used, and used well? Christians, are yours? Oh,
keep up the desire and expectation of eternal glory. With heaven above, and
eternity before you; with such events as the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ in
power and glory, the resurrection of the body and life everlasting—do not allow
yourselves to be swallowed up in worldliness, or overwhelmed by afflictions.
Hope is a grace which you need to keep in daily exercise. And choose your proper
anchorage—the promises of God in his blessed Word. Human speculation, the
deductions of reason, the suggestions of philosophy, are but insecure ground;
and all ideas of your own personal excellence are but quicksand, which will
deceive you. It is the promise of God in Christ Jesus into which you must cast
your anchor—and then come what will in the way of either calm or storm—it will
hold, and you are safe!


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  CHAPTER 52: 04.09.     HOPE CONSIDERED AS A HELMET
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HOPE CONSIDERED AS A HELMET

"But since we belong to the day, let us be self-controlled, putting on faith and
love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a HELMET." 1 Thessalonians
5:8 The figure of ’the HELMET of salvation’ forms a part of one of the most
instructive, impressive, and beautiful passages of Holy Writ; I mean Ephesians
6:12—"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood—but against principalities,
against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against
spiritual wickedness in high places." In this wonderful and rousing paragraph,
we are led to contemplate the malignity, the power, and the craft of that mighty
and mysterious enemy of God and man—the devil. There is a terrific grandeur
connected with this dreadful personage—and an obscurity never to be cleared up
until the light of eternity shall reveal the subject. That he has a true
personality, and is no an oriental personification of the principle of evil,
must be admitted by all who will place implicit confidence in the Scripture
narrative, If Satan be a mere figure of speech, why may not even Christ, and the
whole historic facts of the Bible—be a collection of myths and fables? Yes, he
is a personality, and a being of vastly greater power, perhaps, than the most
vigorous imagination every yet conceived. Our great Bard has done all that
poetic genius can accomplish in the way of setting forth the power; the hatred,
the rage, and craft of the fallen and diabolized archangel. But it is a subject
under which even his noble intellect bends, and the Satan of the "Paradise Lost"
conveys, perhaps, only a poor and feeble idea of this mighty foe of all holiness
and holy beings, compared with the less poetic, yet more awfully mysterious and
super-human, yes, almost super-angelic, personage of the sacred Scriptures. One
of the impressive disclosures of eternity will be the full manifestation of the
terrible power of this leader of rebellion against God in the universe; this
agent by whom moral evil was introduced into our world; this first apostate from
holiness, whose influence fascinated so large a portion of the heavenly hosts to
their ruin, and formed a confederacy in heaven against its Omnipotent Sovereign.
The devil is yet a deep mystery of wickedness and power. One of the chief
glories to be witnessed in another world will be Christ’s triumph over him; and
one of the greatest wonders connected with ourselves will be our own deliverance
from his wiles, his malice, and his power.

What a view of this adversary does the passage just quoted give us. The apostle
calls upon us to arm ourselves with the whole armor of God against the "wiles"
of the devil; intimating that his warfare is conducted with consummate craft,
and consists of continued stratagems. His battles are the rush of a sudden
ambush, when and where they are least expected. He fights not on an open
field—but by sudden assault, secret, and cunning onslaught, and his aim is to
throw his opponents off their guard, and then to surprise them. Sleepless
vigilance, self-possession, and promptitude are therefore indispensable to cope
with him. They are all the more necessary, as "we wrestle not with flesh and
blood." It is not a contest with mere humanity, with man against man, the
potsherd striving with the potsherd—but man against spirit; humanity engaged in
the unequal contest with a demonized archangel. It is a contest "against
principalities and powers." Beings of high order, and rank, and dominion in the
world of spirits; an army marshaled under one great arch-fiend, a chief among
the lost. It is not merely the common damned, the vulgar herd of fiends we
encounter—but the leader and his staff of the great rebellion, such as are
darkly eminent in rank and dignity; "against the rulers of the darkness of this
world," the spirits which reign and rule amid the darkness of Paganism,
Mohammedanism, Judaism, Popery, and Infidelity; forming the spiritual darkness
which so painfully environs the church, and producing that murky zone which has
covered an unbelieving world with such an ominous and lowering shadow.

It is from hence, as well as from many other parts of Scripture, very obvious
that, in some mysterious ways unknown to us, these fallen spirits have dominion
over the realms of ignorance, superstition, heresy, infidelity, and idolatry—and
rivet the chains of error upon the enslaved intellect of man. "Against spiritual
wickedness in high places," or as it might, and should be, rendered, "against
the spirits of evil," or "wicked spirits in heavenly places." Yes,
spirits—wicked spirits. Their nature is evil; their commission is evil; their
work is evil. Evil, and evil only are they, alike in essence and operation. All
their powers, which are vast both for contrivance and execution; all their
activities, ceaseless and unwearied, are employed for evil. And all this
operation for evil "in heavenly places," not only in the earthly places of the
world—but in the heavenly places of the church. They scruple not to invade the
kingdom of Christ. Yes, their great aim is to pollute, to divide, to secularize,
to overthrow, the church. See how they have succeeded in the rise, progress, and
wide extent and dominion of the Papacy. Nothing gives such an idea of the
subtlety and power of Satan, as this dreadful system, which, where it prevails,
is Christianity thrown into almost total eclipse by the power and craft of the
devil.

Here, then, is the description of our great adversary. To rouse up the Christian
soldiery, not to dishearten or discourage them—but to excite them to valorous
deeds and determined opposition, the apostle gives us an impressive description
of our enemy and his power. He marshals the forces of our adversary before us,
and bids us look at our foe. Can we wonder that, in order to prevent us from
being appalled and dismayed, he should introduce this all but overwhelming
representation of our enemy—with so precious an exhibition of our resources as
is contained in that short but all comprehensive admonition, "Be strong in the
Lord, and in the power of his might?" Was it not a wise master-stroke of sacred
policy, before he led us out to conflict with our foe, to take us into "the
secret places of the most high," and surround us "with the shadow of the
Almighty!" Yes, and even before he conducts us into the armory, and bids us put
on the armor provided, to lead us up to God, that we may contemplate his
omnipotence, and thus fill our souls with courage for the conflict? It does not
matter what armor is provided, how finely tempered, how highly polished, how
closely fitted it may be—if there be no courage in the heart; if a man has
merely the dress of a soldier, with the heart of a coward.

Soldiers usually have an invincible courage when they have confidence in the
skill and bravery of their leader. And the power of his might, in which they are
strong, has proved its vigor in routing the foe which they are summoned to
encounter. As "the Captain of salvation," Christ "spoiled principalities and
powers," and now calls us to engage in battle with the same enemies, and, in
fact, to arm ourselves with the same power, even his own. Satan may be, is,
powerful, more powerful than we imagine—but God is all powerful; and therefore
whatever potency we go to conflict with, we go to meet it with Omnipotence.
There is an uncommon force in the expression, "Be strong in the Lord and in the
power of his might." It was as if he had said—Clothe yourselves with
Omnipotence; aim yourselves with Omnipotence; fight with Omnipotence; God lends
you his almightiness. Go to the field not only as warriors and heroes—but as
God-prompted, God-sustained men.

"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor
of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our
struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the
authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual
forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God,
so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and
after you have done everything, to stand." Ephesians 6:10-13

Now let us enter the armory of the Lord, and look at the weapons, offensive and
defensive, provided for us. You will see that the command is to take "the whole
armor." We must engage, in our conflict with Satan, armed from head to foot. No
part of the soul must be left uncovered—and it must be protected by the very
armor which God has provided. We must not go to philosophy, to reason, to any
scheme of defense against our spiritual foes—which is devised by man. It must be
God’s arsenal, and not man’s that must supply the armor. And all this, that we
may "stand in the evil day," that is, the day of Satan’s terrible assault.

It is called the "evil day," because it is an evil thing even to be tempted. It
costs us much perplexity and distress to be thus assailed; our fears are
excited; our alarms are painful; our apprehensions of defeat sometimes
agonizing. And if the temptation proves successful, it is an evil day indeed, as
multitudes have found it to be—in their damaged reputation, their disturbed
peace, their prostrate honors, their impaired usefulness. Hence the necessity of
praying, "Lead us not into temptation," and hence also the propriety of the
apostle’s exhortation, "Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary, the
devil, as a roaring lion, walks about, seeking whom he devour," 1 Peter 5:8.

Now consider the ARMOR.

"Stand firm then, with the belt of TRUTH buckled around your waist." This is an
allusion to the military belt or sash, which was with the ancients, as it is now
with the moderns, an important part of their uniform; it served for both
ornament and use; it was designed to keep the other parts of their armor in
their place. In the Christian profession and the spiritual life, truthfulness or
sincerity acts the part of the belt.

Next comes "the breastplate of RIGHTEOUSNESS." The breastplate was a coat of
metal, or folds of leather, or chain armor, to protect the chest and body in
front. In our warfare, righteousness, or holiness of life, answers this purpose.

Next comes "having your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the
gospel of peace." The ancients defended their legs and feet, the latter with
sandals, and the former with greaves—or a kind of legging which came from the
foot up the front of the leg or shinbone. The Christian warrior is to be
defended from Satanic assaults "by joy and peace in believing."—The joy of the
Lord is unspeakable, and the peace that passes understanding, will keep him in
the midst of danger.

"Above all," or "over" all, says the apostle, take "the shield of FAITH whereby
you shall be able to quench the fiery darts of the wicked one." This defensive
weapon was usually made of light wood, with a ring of brass, and covered with
several folds of stout hide; it was held on the left arm, and was intended to
protect the body from the sword or arrows of the assailant. Arrows were
sometimes employed, which were tipped with a small cavity containing combustible
materials, and which by the power of the atmosphere, or by the percussion when
they struck on an object, was set on fire, and thus communicated the flames to
ships, tents, or any inflammable substance. To the shield answers faith, and by
which the fiery darts of Satan are quenched. By these some understand that
particular species of temptation which consists of wicked, horrid, blasphemous,
and very distressing suggestions and excitements to evil, which in the most
unaccountable manner sometimes rise up in the mind, to the great affliction of
pious people. None of us are without these. No association of ideas can account
for them; no immediate objects before us lead to them; they come suddenly into
the soul, and occasion much agony and astonishment.

I have often had to quiet the apprehensions of pious people alarmed by these
things, by assuring them we are not answerable for what thoughts come into the
mind—but only for what thoughts we keep in the mind. To these we must ever
oppose the shield of faith, which will put them all out, as a wall would put out
a candle thrown against it. But is the head to be left unprotected? No—for we
are to take the "helmet of HOPE." As this is the subject of the present chapter,
I shall enlarge on it presently; and in the meantime remark that all the armor
hitherto mentioned is defensive. Is the Christian then ever to stand upon the
defensive? Is he to make no aggressions upon his enemies? Is he to remain always
at his post, and never engage in the assault? No! He is to "take the sword of
the Spirit, which is the Word of God." That Word of revealed truth which is
written by the inspiration of the Holy Spirit—by which the Spirit carries on his
renewing, comforting, and sanctifying work in the souls of believers—and by
which the great Captain of our salvation himself defeated the enemy, when
tempted in the wilderness. Nor must we stop here, for to all must be added, that
without which all the rest, would be ineffectual, the "all PRAYER and
supplication." Without constant, believing, fervent prayer, however he may seem
to be protected and armed, the believer cannot stand against his foe. The devil
will laugh at the strongest professor, and the best adapted armor which is
unattended by prayer. But—

"But Satan trembles when he sees The weakest saint upon his knees."

I now come to consider the HELMET. I scarcely need say that the helmet is a
piece of armor for the defense of the head. Now, is there anything in Christian
hope which renders the helmet a specially appropriate figure to set it forth?
Perhaps there is. The head contains the brain, which is the organ of thought.
When we distinguish between the intellect and the emotions, we speak of the
former as the head, the latter as the heart. So in the Christian life, we use
precisely the same figures—the head in "the new man" is our mind, as our
affections are the heart. The helmet, in this divine armor of the soul, is for
the defense of the understanding from wrong thinking, either in the way of sin,
worldliness, or error. How much of true godliness lies in a right condition of
the Christian intellect. It is but a part of religion, which consists in action.
The greater portion of man’s moral history lies in the soul, out of sight of our
fellow creatures—but not out of sight of God. I much fear this is not
sufficiently understood or remembered. Yet it is a most momentous idea. Our
conduct and words form a very small part of our moral selves. Let any one
imagine how much is ever going on in the secret recesses of the soul—what
multitudes of thoughts are ever crowding the intellect, and what multitudes of
feelings the heart; and the greater portion of them partaking of a moral
character. Let it be considered how much of evil a wicked man perpetrates in
desires, wishes, intentions, volitions, devices, and imaginations—how much more
indeed than he has the opportunity or the courage to bring out into action. Even
the Christian must be sensible of this fact, that there is more evil in the
HEART, than is put into PRACTICE.

Yes, and so of the opposite. How much of holy desire, volition, purpose, plan—is
ever going on within the bosom of a child of God, which no eye but that of his
Father sees. Hence the truth of the assertion, that it is but a portion of our
moral history which is seen in the outward character, and the indispensable
necessity of our looking well to the state of the heart. Let us take good care
of the heart, and the heart will take care of the life. We must watch well our
thoughts, for holy thinking gives rise to holy feeling, and ends in holy action.
It is much the same with sin, for the apostle says, "When lust (or evil desire)
has conceived, it brings forth sin; and sin, when it is finished, brings forth
death."—James 1:15. This is the order of exercise in all rational creatures—the
thought—the feeling—the volition—the action. The thought is the bud, of which
the feeling is the blossom, the will the setting, and the action the fruit.

All wrong doing begins in wrong thinking. All right doing begins in right
thinking. Hence it is of infinite importance for the Christian to be attentive,
seriously, devoutly, anxiously attentive, not only to the state of the heart—but
the state of the head. This was what Solomon meant where he says—"Keep the heart
with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life." Keep a strict watch
over your thoughts and inclinations. The mind is always consciously busy in its
waking hours. We can no more suspend the power and action of our thinking
principle, than we can suspend the action of our heart, or lungs. Nor can we
prevent the entrance of evil thoughts into our mind; these, like bad company,
will obtrude themselves upon us—but it is at our option to retain or expel them.
They will alight, like birds of prey, even upon our sacrifices of devotion—but
we can chase them away if we please, or allow them to pollute and consume the
offering. Our thoughts are in their ’first rise’ involuntary—and the soul is
passive in their reception. But the soul is active in its treatment of our
thoughts, once they have come. Hence the control of the thoughts is one of the
most necessary exercises of self-government—one of the most important parts of
personal piety. There must not only be the government of the senses, or a strict
watch over the exercise of these upon external objects, though this is both
necessary and important, for the senses are the doors of the soul—but a most
vigilant attention to what is passing within the mind.

There are various classes of evil thoughts, against which we must be upon our
guard as pernicious.

1. There are IDLE thoughts, or the perpetual exercise of the intellect about the
merest trifles, matters that have not the weight of a feather, or the value of a
grain of sand. It is a pitiable sight to behold an intellect that can
contemplate such sublime subjects as God, Christ, salvation, heaven,
eternity—wasting its energies, and frittering away its feeble powers—on absolute
littlenesses, on almost nonentities; in short, evaporating the powers of a man
in the exercises of a child! Many carry their intellects as a little child does
a watch, ignorant alike of its construction and its uses. It would be
instructive and somewhat humiliating for them, and indeed for us all, sometimes
to ask, at the close of a day, "What have I been thinking about today? What
matters have engaged my attention and employed my intellect?" This folly of idle
thoughts is a double waste—of intellect and of time.

Now Christian hope will be a defense against this, by giving us something great
to think about, and by prompting us to think about it. Even Christians need to
be admonished on this head; their renewed and sanctified intellects are too full
of little matters—even they, since they became men, have not put away all
childish things. With their immortal hopes—they are too babyish, and taken up
with the toys of the children of the world—when they should be engaged with the
subjects that occupy the attention of archangels!

2. Then there are WORLDLY thoughts, I mean there are minds thinking about
nothing else, wholly and entirely engrossed in things of the world. There are
people, of whom it can be most truly and emphatically said, "They mind earthly
things." Their intellect is a kind of shop, or market, or exchange, or
manufactory—where nothing but crowds of buyers and sellers; nothing but bargain
and sale; nothing but calculations of profit and loss; nothing but the buzz and
hum of trade and commerce—are ever heard. Of course there must be much of
this—but it is a sad thing where there is nothing else; and where that soul,
which was intended to be a temple for God, is nothing better than a house of
merchandise.

Christian hope, if in vigorous exercise, while it would not unfit a man for
business, nor paralyze his industry, nor extinguish his desire of success—would
still raise him above the world, and give him something else to think about. It
is this that is needed in greater power among professing Christians. The spirit
of the world is coming, has come, into the church. Business, business,
business—profit, profit, profit—elegance, entertainment, and luxurious
gratification—are occupying far more than they ought to do the minds of
professing Christians. Why? Because their hope of heaven is low. Their helmet is
laid aside. The world is aiming a blow at the head, and professors are not
sufficiently protected against it. It is only the desire and expectation of
heaven—that can be a sufficient defense against the influences and encroachments
of earth. We do not let "the glory that excels" come in, as we should do, upon
the glory of this lower world.

3. How apt are many to harbor PROUD thoughts. Pride seems natural to humanity,
and it is strange and even ridiculous to see what really insignificant and
almost contemptible matters will give occasion for its exercise. On what trifles
will some people base their claims to superiority, when comparing themselves
with their fellow-creatures. Could we search the heart as God can, and does—how
much of this self-exaltation, high-regard, and admiration, would we see always
going on. Pride has its operation, not only in the world—but in the church! It
is not only intellect, and wealth, and rank, and beauty, that give occasion for
it—but piety, experience, liberality, activity, success. The more real
excellence there is, the greater the danger of falling into this sin.

Spiritual pride is, of all kinds, the most hateful and offensive both to God and
man. And what Christian is there, who, if he is attentive to his own thoughts,
does not know that he has often detected himself standing before the mirror, and
admiring the beauty of his character and conduct? Against this, Christian hope
is one of the best preservatives. Who can look down at the foundation, and
recollect that he owes all to grace, and rests entirely upon the atonement and
merit of Christ for his eternal salvation; and then look up and consider the
perfection of heaven, which brings out so strongly his own imperfection—and not
feel all occasion for pride taken away? Who does not know, by experience, that
he is never so low, so humble, so unworthy in his own eyes as when he looks up
into heaven and contemplates not only the excellence of the spirits of just men
made perfect; not only the spotless innocence of angels—but the infinite,
immaculate purity of the Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God Almighty Humility grows most
rapidly and most healthily by heavenly-mindedness. It was this that humbled the
prophet Isaiah, and made him cry out, "Woe is me, for I am undone, for I am a
man of unclean lips." It was this that took all high thoughts from the patriarch
Job—"I have heard of you by the hearing of the ear—but now my eye sees you!
Therefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." Yes, and the nearer we
come, by devout contemplation and lively hope, to the heavenly world, the more
shall we enter into those beautiful words of Watts—

"The more your glories strike my eyes, The humbler I shall lie, Thus while I
sink, my joys shall rise Unmeasurable high!"

4. In addition to these, there are ANGRY, VENGEFUL, MALICIOUS thoughts—alas,
alas, how m any of these are to be found in the minds of us all; how difficult
is it under provocation, and injury, and insult, to exercise the love "that
suffers long, and is kind." How difficult to keep out implacable, revengeful
malicious thoughts; not to brood over the offence with inflamed imaginations and
exaggerating ideas. What pictures of the offender we draw, how hideous a monster
we are apt to make him; how we represent him as entirely destitute of all claims
to love or even forgiveness. We thus tempt our feelings by our thoughts; our
feelings prompt our words; and our words end in actions that return evil for
evil.

Genuine love under injury is the most rare, because the most difficult of all
duties; and yet it is made by the apostle indispensable to all true religion—it
is in fact true religion itself. How shall we defend our head against the blows
of our great enemy in endeavoring to slay us, by tempting us to malice, wrath,
and all uncharitableness? How? By putting on our helmet, which is the hope of
salvation; the ardent desire and confident expectation of heaven is one of our
most secure defenses against malicious and revengeful thoughts.

What is heaven? A region of holy love, perfect love, eternal love; no malice
shall ever enter there—the unruffled serenity of a bosom which is a stranger to
ill-will, shall reign there; not a thought contrary to the most entire and
universal benevolence shall ever enter the mind of a single inhabitant of that
happy world. Now the very hope of such a heaven tends to change the mind into
the likeness of itself; the contemplation of that state brings loving, holy
thoughts into the mind, and thus expels others of a contrary nature. Bring me a
passionate, wrathful, implacable, and malevolent professor, thinking of the evil
his brother has done to him, and meditating what evil he will in return do to
him, and I will ask him, "Do you hope for heaven? Do you believe you can have a
title to heaven without a fitness? Is not fitness holy love? Will not holy love
lead you to forgive? Do you desire this fitness? Can you possess it if you
harbor all kinds of unforgiving thoughts? Would you overcome this malevolent
temper?" Then I say, keep up your Christian hope. Be often at the gates of
heaven. Meditate on its ineffable glories. Consider they are all glories of
love. I tell you one of the best cures of an unforgiving mind, is the
intelligent, scriptural hope of heaven.

5. Many have to complain of IMPURE, LUSTFUL thoughts; they come unbidden into
the mind; no object appealing to the senses excites them, and to the pure in
heart they are an offense and a grief. Of course all that would excite them
should be avoided, such as books, pictures, natural objects, and conversation.
We must watch the senses, and make a covenant with our eyes not to look on what
would suggest impure thoughts. He who carries gunpowder should not venture near
the fire; and he who would not catch the plague, should not some in contact with
a person infected with it. As I have lately said, we are not answerable for
thoughts that come unbidden into the mind—but we are for such as we invite, and
we do invite them when we hold familiar communion with subjects that necessarily
produce them. In this case, whether the thoughts are brought in, or come in—hope
is our defense. Before the rays of the excellent glory which fall upon the soul
in full contemplation of heaven, these unhallowed fires will be extinguished.
When these obscene ideas come into the mind, turn it heavenward; drive back the
foul current by a stronger and a purer one.

6. I must not omit HARD THOUGHTS OF GOD regarding the dispensations of his
providence. Sometimes these are produced by heavy, peculiar, and long-continued
afflictions. In those night seasons of the Christian life, when the outer
darkness deepens into an inner gloom of the mind still more dark, what fearful
questionings—what awful skepticism, what sullen moodiness of spirit, what
rebellious ideas, what atheistic reasonings—haunt the soul. Satan sees it in
this sad perplexity, and rushes in with his fiery assault. It is now the
palpable gloom, the darkness that may be felt, the very valley of the shadow of
death. The soul is in great danger of absolute despair, or overwhelming
skepticism. What shall preserve it, in such a case? Only turning from the
mysteries of providence—to the scheme of saving grace. Only the hope of that
world where what is now dark will be illumined, and what is mystery will become
revelation; only the expectation of the end, where all that now puzzles and
perplexes us, will astonish and delight us; only the contemplation of that ocean
of light, love, and joy, into which these dark and meandering streams of
Providence will discharge themselves, and help to swell that boundless,
stormless sea, "Where not a wave of trouble rolls Across the peaceful bosom."

7. And are there not thoughts of ERROR against which a defense is necessary?
What better defense can we find than this helmet, which is the hope of
salvation? Never was there an age in which the Christian more needed to be
completely armed against the attacks of heresy, than the present. An undisguised
infidelity which is assiduously laboring to associate even science with itself;
an atheistic philosophy which is seizing our press, and insinuating itself into
our general literature; and what is still more dangerous, because not so openly,
nor so intentionally hostile to Christianity, false systems of doctrine, which,
while professing to do homage to Christianity, and to propound its leading
truths, obscure the objects of our faith, and undermine the foundation of our
hope—these, all these perils thrown in our way and rendered still more perilous
by the genius and the eloquence by which they are set forth and recommended, are
filling the minds of many professors of true religion, and especially the
younger ones, with thoughts that endanger their steadfastness in the faith. The
winds of false doctrine are blowing from every quarter; and even within the pale
of what we consider and call evangelical religion, a leaven of error is
unquestionably at work, and diffusing itself, the sad results of which, at no
very distant day, will be unquestionably seen. A gradual—but unintentional
preparation for this is to my eye clearly discernible in those apologies which
we are continually hearing or reading from men generally, and, upon the whole,
orthodox, on behalf of those who, if not off the foundation, are obviously out
of the balance of revealed truth. I confess to a considerable jealousy of much
that is said and done in the circle of what is still called evangelism. Some, we
are told, do not view divine truth from the same standpoint; do not speak of it
in precisely the same language as others, and yet hold the same doctrines in
substance; and we must therefore have a broad and ample love to cover over these
differences. Provided the great fundamental truths of the mediatorial scheme of
the gospel are really retained, truths which are "the family jewels of God’s
redeemed family, the heirloom to be handed down from generation to generation,
there can be no heresy in having them reset in language and style of composition
suited to the taste of the age." I most willingly concede this; yet I am not
easy under the excessive demand which is made for a change of the outward form
of truth; this is to me somewhat portentous. It seems a dangerous opiate that
will close the watchful eye with which the sacred deposit of divine truth ought
ever to be watched. In this age we are in no danger of a narrow-minded bigotry,
a tyranny of authority, an obstinate attachment to old forms, a childish
veneration for hoary antiquity, or a propensity to forge shackles for liberty
and independence of thought. Our danger lies in the opposite extreme, of a
liberty that runs into licentiousness; a worship of novelty; a contempt for
collective wisdom and the accumulations of experience; and a disposition amid
modern illumination, to treat as worthless, all the great lights of bygone ages.
That sound orthodoxy, both in the established church and among the dissenting
bodies, is somewhat in danger, at least for a season, I have no doubt. The best
defense we can set up against this tendency is, to keep up the vigor of
spiritual life in our churches, of which the Christian hope is one of the most
essential and healthful exercises. ’Fundamental error’ is not likely to gain
entrance and exercise in a heavenly mind; and heavenliness implies hope. While
the soul is maintaining a solemn, devout, and practical regard to the celestial
state, it keeps its hold on the truth as it is in Jesus. No one who is looking
for eternal life will, or can, be indifferent to the basis on which such an
expectation rests. He will take heed that he is not raising a Babel on a
quicksand. We have already shown that Christ, in his atoning work, is the only
foundation of a good hope. As long, therefore, as there is an earnest desire and
confident expectation of eternal happiness, there will be no disposition to give
up those great truths on which the soul builds her immortal hopes. It is only
when she has become earthly in her habitual state, only when she has lost her
high and holy aspiration towards the heavenly kingdom, that she can become
reconciled to error, and in such a state she can be very soon reconciled to it.
To a carnal, earthly mind, there is much in errors of various kinds to recommend
them. Error and earthliness are compatible states of mind. Hence we see that
those communities which have given up the fundamental doctrines of the gospel,
are distinguished for their worldliness. Let our churches become worldly, and
the same effect will soon be visible, in their indifference to doctrinal truth.

If this be true, and it cannot be doubted, much less denied, it shows us the
importance of our ministers being not only earnest for the preservation of sound
doctrine—but, as a means of preserving it, equally earnest for maintaining
spiritual life. Lifeless orthodoxy is no better than lifeless error—they are
both but corpses, only one is less hideous and less offensive than the other. It
is well enough to "contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the
saints," but it is no less well to contend as earnestly for the blessed hope of
the redeemed church. Let us all consider we are safe from error—only so far as
we find, feel, and exhibit a living power in the truth we hold.

Let us, then, look well to our helmet, and never venture into the field without
it; and let us take heed that it be of the right kind, made of the right
material, and able to resist the assaults of the foe. A good hope through grace;
a hope founded exclusively on Christ, which looks for an eternity of holiness,
as that which can yield an eternity of happiness—this, and this only,
constitutes the helmet that will resist the blows of Satan, aimed at the head of
the Christian! The facts of ecclesiastical history will serve as proof and
illustration of all that has been said in this chapter. When spiritual life has
been lost—creeds, confessions, and articles of faith have been found an
insufficient breakwater against the waves of error, and a feeble defense of
sound orthodoxy. To this we ascribe the prevalence of Rationalism in Germany,
and other parts of the Continent, where the formularies of Luther and Calvin
still continued to be the established standard of truth long after their
spiritual influence was gone. Both the Scottish and English establishments
furnished similar evidence, and so also does the history of Nonconformity. This
might be illustrated also in the case of individual ministers. I know one who is
still living, who, after being educated at one of our colleges, embraced
Unitarianism, and for a time preached its doctrines; he was, however, at length
brought back to his former views. In an interview I had with him, I asked him if
he could trace his doctrinal lapse to any particular cause? He said, "Yes, I
lost the power of vital godliness, and then theological orthodox opinions became
a matter of indifference to me, and I abandoned them for others more flattering
to the pride of intellect." These, if not his exact words, contain the substance
of what he said—and this one fact shows the vast importance of keeping up the
true spiritual life. Truth in the intellect and life in the heart, act and
re-act upon each other, just as the healthy state of the brain and the right
action of the heart in the human body influence each other. We must have sound
doctrine to originate, sustain, and quicken spiritual life—and we must have
vigorous spiritual life to strengthen our hold upon sound doctrine.


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  CHAPTER 53: 04.10.     A GOOD HOPE THROUGH GRACE
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A GOOD HOPE THROUGH GRACE

"May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us, and has
given us everlasting consolation and good hope through grace." 2 Thessalonians
2:16

There is a richness of expression in these few words to which no exposition or
paraphrase can do justice. Every view we can take of the Christian hope,
entitles it to this description. The Christian’s hope is good ABSOLUTELY. Good
in its foundation—which is Christ; good in its object—which is heaven; good in
its influence—which is holiness; good in its power to support and comfort under
all the trials of life; good for all people, from the prince to the peasant;
good for all occasions, for prosperity and adversity; good through all the
journey of life, and amid all the agonies of death. Whoever tried it and found
it otherwise than good? Was this adjective ever more truly or more appropriately
applied to any object? Will not the believer who entertains it, and feels its
blessed influence, joyfully exclaim, "Yes, if there is anything good on earth,
anything in me, anything in true religion—it is this! Whatever good things I
have—this is best. I would part with all, rather than this; and if, on the
deprivation of property, friends, health, I were asked what I had left, I would
answer from the midst of surrounding evils, ’A good hope through grace!’ and
feel that, having nothing else but this, I should account myself possessing all
things."

What multitudes have experienced all this, and found that Christian hope has
stood by them, when everything else had fled. As the sun converts clouds to a
glorious drapery, painting them with gorgeous hues, and arraying the whole
horizon with its magnificent costumes—so a believing and radiant heart lets
forth its hope upon its sorrows, and all the blackness flies off; and troubles,
that seemed likely to extinguish it, serve only as a theater to display its
glory! Is not this good? The Christian’s hope is good COMPARATIVELY. "And this
world is fading away, along with everything it craves. But if you do the will of
God, you will live forever." 1 John 2:17. How insignificant, trivial, and
paltry, are the objects of worldly desire and expectation! What are wealth,
rank, fame, pleasure—compared with the glory, honor, immortality, and eternal
life, which the believer looks for beyond the grave? They are all of the earth
earthly—this is heavenly; they are human—this divine; they are transient—this
everlasting; they are unsatisfying, leaving the soul a void unfilled—this
replenishing its vast capacity; they are fleeting, shadowy, and precarious—this
absolutely certain; they are the toys of children, compared with the occupations
of a Newton, when handling his telescope, surveying the heavens, ascertaining
and contemplating the stars, with his bosom swelling with the hope of
discoveries that will instruct the world and immortalize himself; they leave the
poor, craving soul, exclaiming, "Who will show us any good?"—this compels him,
with rapture, to exclaim, "I have found it! I have found it!"

Compare this hope with that of the HEATHEN, and see how good it, is. How dim and
uncertain were the views of the wisest, and best of these, as set forth in the
doubting expectations of Cicero, the loftiest speculations of Plato, and the
dying prospects of Socrates. Were these sages of Greece, these lights of the
ancient world, to revisit our earth with no more knowledge than they carried
away with them, they might thankfully sit at the feet of a heaven-taught
Sunday-school girl, and from her lips learn lessons of immortality, which their
discoveries never enabled them to reach. As a proof of this, I refer to their
sayings. The hope of immortality is styled by Cicero—"A conjecture or surmise of
future ages." Seneca says—"It is that which our wise men only promise—but do not
prove." Socrates, at his death, said—"I hope to go hence to good men—but of that
I am not very confident; nor does it become any wise man to be positive that so
it will be. I must now die, and you shall live—but which of us is in the better
state, God only knows." Pliny says—"Neither soul nor body has any more sense
after death, than before it was born" Aristotle held "that death was terrible,
as putting an end to all things." Plutarch called it "The fabulous hope of
immortality." How evident is it, from the experience and testimony of such men,
that mere human reason is inadequate to the discovery of a future state; and
that nothing could make this certain to man, except a revelation from God. The
trial never could have been made with greater advantages than by the
philosophers of Greece and Rome; and these confessed that they could arrive at
no certainty on the subject. In this state of things the gospel comes with its
glorious discoveries, abolishes death—that is, renders its reign but transient;
and establishes the fact, not only of the immortality of the soul—but of the
resurrection of the body; thus solving the great and stupendous problem of man’s
nature and destiny—and bringing in everlasting consolation, and a good hope
through grace.

MOHAMMEDANISM speaks of its Paradise—but how groveling, how sensual, how
unworthy the soul of man. The false prophet accommodates his heaven to the
carnal and lowest passions of our nature, and holds out to the faithful little
more or better than the lecherous harem of an Eastern despot. He carries his
sensual system into the celestial state, and peoples his eternal world with a
race of voluptuaries. What a contrast is here presented to the Christian
Paradise, where flesh and blood are excluded, with all their grosser appetites
and propensities; and not only is the soul perfect in purity—but even the body
is too spiritual for the sensual passions of the flesh.

Little better is the Elysium of the classic nations of GREECE and ROME, or
rather of their poets—and it was only poetry. If we consult Homer, Virgil,
Pindar, and others, these rise no higher than converse with gods which are
themselves stained with crime—and this communion maintained amid green bowers,
gliding streams, murmuring springs, verdant meadows, and warbling of birds.
Others add mirth and sensual delight. True it is, some of their philosophers
turned away in partial disgust from these base views, yet they had nothing
better to substitute, which could be relied upon with certainty. Now and then a
dim ray of light seemed to pierce the clouds of mortality, and point to a region
beyond—but while the eye of reason looked at it, it vanished like a meteor, and
left the benighted, bewildered philosopher in all his doubt and darkness. I need
not further enlarge upon this, than to contrast Cicero’s skeptical statement of
the coming day of transition from earth to heaven, with Paul’s triumphant
confidence, where he says—"We know that if the earthly house of our tabernacle
were dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal
in the heavens!"

There was Paganism, straining her exploring eye over the dark abyss of the
grave, with feeble fluttering hope, and strong prevailing fear, holding up her
dark lantern—but gaining no discovery—uttering her inquiring voice—but receiving
no response—all was dark and silent to her. Here, is Christianity, gazing with
steady faith, living hope, and enraptured view, amid the broad daylight of
revelation, on those sweet fields beyond the swelling flood which stand dressed
with living green, and adorned with the at amaranthine flowers of the celestial
Paradise. Oh, precious gospel, which has thus laid open to us not only the
GLORY—but the CERTAINTY of a future state of bliss!

It is hardly worth while to bring into the comparison those monstrous, absurd,
and groveling representations of the future state, which are the products of
MODERN PAGANISM—the transmigration of souls of the Eastern world from body to
body, through millions of ages, until they are at last absorbed in the gods; or
the hunting grounds and pleasures of the hunt, which form the future of savage
tribes. Who can contemplate these varied—but groveling and uncertain
expectations, held by the ancient and modern heathen, and not see, comparing
them with the Christian faith, the truth and force of the apostle’s description,
when he calls it a good hope?

Compare it with the hope of the JEW. How scanty were the revelations of a future
state under the Old Testament. How seldom did the sun of the celestial world
seem to break through the clouds and shadows of the Levitical economy, and throw
its luster on the path of even the pious Israelite. In what gloom and deep
dejection did he approach the sepulcher. Where in all the law, the psalms, the
prophets, do we find those triumphant anticipations of eternal glory, which are
so frequent in the writings of holy Paul? Where do we see the ancient believer
looking up into heaven with the exulting expectation that he shall soon be there
with God and his saints? How rarely did David strike his harp or tune his voice
in praise of the heaven to come. How seldom did even the evangelical prophet
Isaiah rise high on the wing of prophecy until he bathed his spirit in the flood
of the excellent glory, and then descended to tell the visions he had seen. One
chapter, I might almost say one verse, of the New Testament, tells us more of
the celestial world, as to the reality and nature of its felicities, than all
the pages of the Old Testament. So true are the apostle’s words already
quoted—"He has abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light by the
gospel." Is it not, then, a good hope that Christians have? And then, just for a
moment, dwell on its SOURCE, as expressed in this verse, "a good hope through
grace." Any hope, the expectation of the smallest favor—even the shortening of
the duration of punishment, or lightening the weight of punishment—would be
favor. Annihilation would be mercy, for sinners who deserved to be plunged in
eternal despair; just as any situation on earth might be esteemed a favor for a
man who had been condemned to die, and deserved it. It would have been grace to
be merely exempted from the bitter pains of eternal death—though our eternal
destiny had been to dwell in some world far from God’s presence, and with only
some few comforts to make existence tolerable. It would have been a display of
grace, rich grace—to bestow upon us all the glories of Paradise for ten thousand
ages—and then to extinguish our existence forever. Had we never heard of eternal
life, and had this been presented to us as the object of Christian desire and
expectation—we would have considered it as a manifestation of abounding favor.
But for sinners who had deserved hell to have such a hope as ours—the hope of
everlasting life, with all that can make existence a blessing; to have a hope
founded on the incarnation, sufferings, and death of the Son of God; to be
brought by the new creating power of God into the possession of this hope—is it
not a display of grace which will fill the universe with astonishment, and our
eternity with wonder and with praise?


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  CHAPTER 54: 04.11.     A LIVING HOPE
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A LIVING HOPE

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he
has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus
Christ from the dead!"—1 Peter 1:3. In this very comprehensive and beautiful
passage, the apostle Peter, like his brother Paul in the commencement of his
epistle to the Ephesians, introduces his subject by bursting abruptly into a
hymn of thanksgiving. His heart was full to overflowing of wonder, gratitude and
love, and he could not content himself with a mere cold formal statement of the
marvelous grace of God. He first ascends to the source of the blessings he was
about to enumerate, and finds it only in the abundant mercy of God.

There is no attribute of God on which as sinners, we so much depend as upon
mercy; and there is no one attribute therefore, about which so much is said in
Scripture as this. Mercy is the spring and fountainhead of the blessings here
enumerated, our regeneration and adoption into the family of God; our heavenly
inheritance; and our preservation to the vast and eternal possession.

It is the living hope, however, that is the subject of our present remarks. To
this we are "begotten," that is, we are first made children, and then, as such,
being endowed with an eternal inheritance, we, as children, being entitled to
it, through the work of Christ, hope for it. And to this we are begotten "by the
resurrection of Christ." In an earlier part of this work I have shown that hope
must be preceded by faith, and is founded upon faith. We must first believe that
there is a heaven, and that it is obtainable by us, or we cannot hope for it;
and if we do believe, we must of necessity hope. Whatever therefore produces
faith, and strengthens it—must beget hope as well. The resurrection of Christ is
the sum and substance of all the evidence of the divinity of his mission, of the
truth of his doctrines, and of course of the gospel of our salvation. It is a
cloud of witnesses in itself, and therefore believing this great fact, we are,
through the grace of God, brought to hope. But more than this, the resurrection
of Christ is the proof and pledge of ours. Believing in his resurrection, we
believe our own; for he rose not as a private individual—but as our
representative. Thus our faith is confirmed, established, supported by his
resurrection, and we are begotten to a living hope. But I intend now to dwell on
this characteristic of our hope, as "a LIVING" one. True personal religion is
the opposite of any unregenerate state, which is, a state of spiritual death;
the unconverted sinner is "dead in trespasses and sins." Hence true religion is
spiritual life. It is a living, moving, active principle in man’s soul. He has
been quickened from a death of sin to a life of holiness. His religious
exercises are not the motions of an automaton—but the self-moved actions of a
living being. His soul is alive to God, to Christ, to holiness, to heaven. Now,
just as in the tree, each branch, and leaf, and fruit, lives by the principle of
vegetable life in the root; and as in the body, the principle of animal life
diffuses its influence into each and all the members and organs; as the foot
moves, the hand works, the eye sees, and the tongue speaks by the principle of
animal life—so, as regards true religion, all its graces act from the spiritual
life in the soul. Faith is a living faith, hope is a living hope, love is a
living love. The apostle, it is true, speaks of a dead faith—but this indeed is
no faith at all; so we may speak of a dead hope, which is none at all. If there
be in reality a hope, it must be a living one.

Nearly all the people in Christian lands profess to have hope—but in multitudes
of cases it is a dead one; it breathes not, moves not, speaks not; it neither
makes them holy nor happy; it neither animates to duty, restrains from sin, nor
supports under suffering. It is a mere profession. Is it not much to be feared
that this is all that many professors of religion, many members of our churches,
have in this day? I would not be uncharitable—but I must express my
apprehensions, fearful as they are, that large numbers in this day of ’easy
profession’, have nothing but a dead faith and a dead hope. Their profession,
instead of being the coat of a spiritually living man, is the shroud of a dead
one. Judging from their conduct, we must conclude that they have neither desire
nor expectation of eternal life.

Christian professor, let me ask you—what does your hope do for you? Consider
that true hope is not a desire fixed on a trifle, which must be a trifling
desire, exciting no emotion, producing no action, awakening no concern. True
hope is desire of salvation, of eternal life, of immortal glory. Can such an
expectation, if it really exist, lie dormant in the soul, an ineffective,
inoperative thing, producing no joy, no concern, no activity? Impossible! Let
every one, therefore, solemnly ask himself this simple question—What does my
anticipation of heaven do for me? Is it alive in me? Does it move? Does it act?
Does it stimulate me to duty, restrain me from sin, comfort me in trouble? Are
my character and conduct in any degree those of a man who has fixed his eye, his
heart, his expectation on eternal life? If not, my hope is a dead one—a name and
a delusion. In opposition to this, the hope of a really converted man is a
living one. The word signifies a vigorous, active, spirit-stirring principle—as
opposed to the cold, faint belief of Heathenism. It is an earnest desire and
confident expectation of everlasting life. This desire and expectation is such
as employs the thoughts and kindles the affections. It acts on the soul, as
regards spiritual and eternal objects—just as earthly desires and expectations
do towards their objects. If a man is looking forward with confident expectation
of some great earthly good, some cherished object which is to influence all his
future life—it is uppermost in his mind, it engages his heart, it employs his
tongue, it stimulates his activity. If he receives some lesser good, "Oh," he
says, "but I have something far greater to come!" If he has sustained a loss, he
replies, "I shall soon have ample compensation for this!" If he is in trouble,
he cheers his mind with the anticipation of the expected good. If solicited to
engage in any project which would divert his mind from this, he exclaims, "No! I
cannot allow anything to interfere with my one great object!" This is a living
hope. And so is it with the man who has really set his heart upon salvation and
eternal life.

I am ready to admit that it is with spiritual life as it is with natural—it may
exist in various degrees. There may be vitality where there is not vivacity.
There may be life so feeble as scarcely to be perceived or felt—and there may be
vitality in such vigor as to give rise to the expression, "He is full of life!"
In reference to the two terms, "living" and "lively," a hope may, in a very
modified sense, be a living one, yet not a lively one; and on that account I am
almost ready to prefer the adverb of our translators to the proposed substitute.
The original comprehends both.

There are many who are spiritually alive—but not very lively. They have
desires—but how lukewarm. They have hope—but how uncertain and fluttering. They
do not give up the idea of their being Christians, and reaching heaven at
last—but amid what doubts and fears these expectations are indulged. In duty,
how backward; in spirit, how worldly; in trouble, how disconsolate. How
deficient in spirituality and heavenly-mindedness. O, you half-hearted,
worldly-minded, lukewarm professors, I call upon you "to strengthen the things
which remain, and are ready to die!" You have only that measure of life which is
next akin to death, and is in peril of becoming such!

Believers, be contented with nothing short of a lively—as well as living
expectation—which shall be an unfailing source of both consolation and holiness;
which lifts up your head and keeps it up, when passing through the rivers of
affliction; which remains, when everything else is gone; which opens a fountain
amid broken cisterns; which lives in death, and exhibits heaven to the eye in
the dark valley; and which judgment and eternity do not destroy—but only
consummate. Let the full tide of spiritual life be poured into this—as one of
the many channels through which its holy stream is to flow!


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  CHAPTER 55: 04.12.     A PATIENT HOPE
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A PATIENT HOPE

"Remembering, without ceasing, your work of FAITH, and labor of LOVE, and
patience of HOPE in our Lord Jesus Christ."—1 Thessalonians 1:3.

It is somewhat striking, and very interesting, to observe the various
combinations of Christian graces which are presented to us in many places by the
sacred writers—like so many different precious stones in a bracelet—or so many
flowers in a bouquet—or stars in a constellation. Each grace lends its separate
beauty to form a resplendent whole. How impressive is that rich chain in 2 Peter
1:5; or Galatians 5:22; or 1 Corinthians 13:13. In the passage now under
consideration, the order is faith, love, hope. This is in more exact accordance
with the nature and relations of the Christian’s life—hope is mentioned last,
because it is the nearest connecting link between this world and that which is
to come. These three virtues are each represented, as we have said, by an
epithet which is intended to exhibit them in their practical exercise.

We have "the WORK of faith." This does not mean that faith is God’s work in the
soul. This is true—but it is not the truth here. It must be explained by the
analogy of the other two virtues; and as the epithet in connection with them
represents their practical operation, so it must be here. "The work of faith,"
must mean a working faith. Its best explanation will be found in the second
chapter of the epistle of James. In some other places, as 1 Corinthians 16:13; 1
Timothy 6:12; 2 Timothy 4:7, it is represented as a fighting virtue, just as
here it is a working one; both implying great exertion. Every representation of
this holy principle makes it an active one. Faith cannot be "an idle, passive,
inoperative assent to the truths of the gospel"—but a vigorous and impulsive
conviction. It is not the state of mind which, perceiving the evidence, reposes
upon it without further desire or effort—but that of a man who, believing a
report concerning some benefit he may obtain, rouses himself to put forth every
effort to secure it. "Show me your faith without your works," exclaims the true
believer, "and I will show you my faith by my works." May I illustrate it by a
reference to the steam engine? Faith is the steam power in the cylinder, which
sets all the machinery in motion.

"The LABOR of love" explains itself. Faith works by love; and love works in all
those various ways set forth with such exquisite beauty and elegance in Paul’s
personification of love. The apostle has used a strong term, in application to
love, by calling it the "labor" of love. Love stirs up the whole soul to
energetic, vigorous, and persevering action. This operation of love, is, in
substance, the same as that which is ascribed to faith, only here it is
intensified by a still stronger term; the word "labor" being a more emphatic one
than "work." Love is the most powerful impulse to vigorous action that the soul
knows. What will not the mother do for her child? The wife for her husband? The
lover for the object of his affection? How beautifully the expression, "labor of
love" chimes in with all our instincts and our experience. Oh! what an
illustration of this have we in the incarnation, life, sufferings, and death of
our Lord. There was a labor of love which is a pattern for us, and which will
fill the universe with wonder and delight. But it is "the PATIENCE of hope" to
which this section is principally devoted. And is there any characteristic of
this grace more obvious than patience? When our hearts are strongly set upon an
object, is there any effort too great to make for its possession? Any length of
time too long to wait? Any disappointment too severe to endure, as long as one
ray of hope remain unextinguished? How often have we been struck with this, in
observing the conduct of our fellow-creatures, in reference to some worldly
object on which their hearts were entirely set. We have seen them working,
waiting, and watching—led on by some ’glimmering light’, which to every eye but
their own was a meteoric delusion; never relaxing their efforts, nor
intermitting their expectations, long after all around them saw that the object
they pursued must forever elude their grasp. A very striking illustration of
this was seen in the conduct of the crew of the ill-fated ship which recently
sunk—"For thirty-six hours they lived on hope. On Friday noon the leak was made
known, and all hands began to bale out the engine-room. They went to work calmly
and systematically, hoping to conquer the water there, and thus to regain their
steam-power. Until eight o’clock that evening they worked steadily at this one
point; regained their steam only to lose it finally. Still all night long the
weary men waked with good spirits, in the hope that the morning would bring
relief. And when toward morning their strength began to fail, and the water to
increase in the hold, hope was renewed by a lull of the gale, and the assurance
of an experienced captain that the ship would hold out. Every passenger remained
cool, and seemed to forget his danger in the united efforts to save the vessel.
There was no weeping or exhibition of despair. All Saturday morning they keep on
bailing, though the storm increased and the vessel filled with water. At noon
the clouds begin to break; hope revives, and all work like giants. Two hours
later a sail appears; then hope bursts into joy. And though night is coming on,
the hope of help sustains all hearts. With the calmness and patience that hope
alone can impart, they first provide for the weak and the helpless, and though
the daylight wanes, they still hope for the returning boat until the fated lurch
of the sinking ship leaves five hundred men upon the waves. Yet even then hope
does not desert them. Through the darkness of the night, the flashes of
lightning reveal to each his struggling comrades; and each cheers his fellow
with the hope of rescue from vessels hovering near. At length when one by one,
scores and hundreds have gone down forever—a solitary swimmer observes in the
dim dawn a vessel a mile away. For six hours he had floated on the sea—but the
sight gives courage to his will, and strength to his arms. Almost exhausted he
reaches her side, and is drawn on board of her by ropes—saved by hope." So let
it be with us in reference even to the affairs of this world. Are we engaged in
some lawful enterprise; some matter of unquestionable obligation; some pursuit,
of the lawfulness of which we can no more doubt, than we can of our very
existence? Then let us hold on our way amid all difficulties, delays, and
disappointments, sustained by the power of hope, and "exhibiting the patience of
hope." There may appear but dim lights to cheer even ourselves, and to others
nothing but thick darkness, impervious to a single beam—but until the last ray
is extinguished in black night, let us never yield to the paralyzing influence
of despair. Many have given up the pursuit when within a few steps of gaining
their desired object. A little more patience would have put them in possession
of all they sought. And if this be true in reference to temporal things, it is
equally true in reference to spiritual matters. Are we struggling in the great
work of sanctification—with some besetting sin, some strong corruption, some
powerful enemy—and carrying on the conflict amid many sad defeats, many humbling
disappointments, many embarrassing relapses—until we are ready to give up all
for lost, and despondingly say, "I shall yet perish by the hand of Saul!" Let
hope come to our rescue, and patience keep up our hope. We must struggle—it is a
life and death conflict. If we give up—we are lost. There is hope! God will
assist us. He has promised to make his grace sufficient for us. If defeated ten
times—ten times we must return to the conflict.

Recollect the story of Robert Bruce and the spider, how, when frequently
defeated, he was reclining in despondency, and saw the little insect, after many
abortive attempts to swing herself from one place to another, succeed at last.
Patience in this case was victorious. It roused him from his despondency, called
up the same spirit of endurance and resolution in him, and he too, was saved by
it. And thus must it also be in the commencement of the great business of
eternal salvation. The awakened sinner does not always come at once into the
light and liberty of the gospel, or to the full assurance of hope, or faith, or
even of understanding. He is like Bunyan’s Pilgrim, heavily laden with the
burden of his sins, and falls into the Slough of Despond, and, after floundering
long in its miry depths, often feels half inclined to get out on the wrong side;
and even after escaping from this danger, finds not immediately his way to the
cross of Christ. He prays, he reads, he hears; he mortifies his corruptions, and
puts away his sins—but he is not at peace, and is ready to give all up in
despair. If any such shall read these pages, to him I say—"Do not despond—hope
on. You are near the cross look up—there it is! There is the Savior, the Lamb of
God, who takes away the sins of the world. I do not bid you wait. There is no
reason why you should not this moment believe and rejoice. But should it be that
from any remaining ignorance, any cloud upon your mind, you do not see the
glorious object of faith, do not give up the matter—but in the patience of hope
struggle against your doubts and fears, your false views and false reasonings,
your unbelief and self-righteousness, and come to the Savior who waits to
receive you! And let the timid believer—the feeble and fainting soul, often cast
down by reason of the difficulties of the way, and alarmed at his own
weakness—keep up his expectation, and his expectation keep up his patience, and
his hope and patience keep up his endeavors. It may be "with fear and
trembling," but still let him work out his own salvation, depending upon him who
works in him to will and to do according to his good pleasure. To the afflicted
believer who may have lost his all, by some sudden reverse of circumstances, we
say—when we have been shipwrecked, when the storm rages over us, and we struggle
in the deep—if we have only a good hope through grace of a better inheritance,
we shall emerge at last, though but one solitary plank of worldly substance be
left us. The hour of deliverance will come to all who maintain the patience of
hope in Jesus Christ. But this patience must have its perfect work, and must be
attended with the work of faith and labor of love. In connection with this
passage, we may take up another—"We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we
know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance produces character; and
character produces hope." Romans 5:3-4 The connection of Christian graces with
each other, and their operation in the way of producing one another, are in this
passage beautifully set forth, somewhat resembling the divisions of the stalks
of those plants which are jointed, and in which the parts grow one out of
another. The apostle states it as a great and blessed privilege of Christians,
that they not only rejoice in the hope of glory—but "also rejoice in our
SUFFERINGS," not, of course, on their own account—but on account of their
influence and effects. Just as we might rejoice in some present privation, toil,
suffering, and perplexity—not for their own sakes, for they are all very painful
in their nature—but because of some great temporal advantage to be derived from
them.

We can easily understand the reality and the reasonableness of rejoicing in
present temporary evil, for the sake of future and permanent good. What was the
good which made the apostle rejoice in suffering? "Suffering produces
PERSEVERANCE." Not of itself does suffering produce endurance, for it tends to
produce impatience, fretfulness, and an abandonment of its own cause. This
result of "endurance from affliction" is the work of God’s grace in the soul,
keeping in subjection our natural tendency to repine and rebel. It is a proof of
God’s power, wisdom, and love to his people, that he places them in those
circumstances, in which he will enable them to exercise one of the most
difficult of all graces; thus assisting them to glorify him, and secure to
themselves a great reward. If there were no suffering, there could be no
endurance; and if no endurance, no reward. Yes, this is the only world in which
endurance can be exercised. There is no perseverance in heaven—for there is no
suffering there. There is no perseverance in hell—for there is no hope there.
Hence to be called to suffer, is really an honor—and if we look to the end and
outcome, a privilege. The apostle James represents patience as the perfection of
the Christian character—"Let patience have its perfect work, that you may be
perfect, and entire, lacking nothing."

"Perseverance produces CHARACTER." The word signifies "trial," or "proof." This
is usually understood to mean proof of God’s power, faithfulness, and love, in
bestowing his grace upon the Christian, according to his gracious promise—for
support, consolation and perseverance. And what afflicted Christian who has
trusted in God, has not had proof abundant of divine support? What a testimony
of God’s interposition, can his children bear, who have been enabled patiently
to endure and persevere!

Still, this does not appear to be the meaning here. I think the "trial," or
"proof," is that of the afflicted Christian’s own state. Patience works "proof"
of the sincerity, steadfastness, and strength of his faith. Tribulation is the
testing-point of godliness; the crucible, the fire of which reveals the nature
of the substances cast into it—whether it is gold or dross—or, if mixed, how
much there is of each. This is "the fire which is to try every man’s work, of
what sort it is," 1 Corinthians 3:13. To this the apostle refers, 1 Peter 1:7.
"That the trial of your faith, being much precious than of gold which perishes,
might be found unto praise, and honor, and glory, at the appearing of Jesus
Christ." Tribulation makes, in many cases, sad discoveries of the lack of true
faith, and in others it makes revelations no less delightful. Many a believer
who feared as he entered ’the cloud of suffering’, emerged from it with joy and
thanksgiving for the knowledge of his state, which he had gained while passing
through it.

"Character produces HOPE." It naturally and necessarily leads to an increase of
this grace, not of course by changing or strengthening the foundation—but by
showing us that we have really built upon it, and are going on to the possession
of its glorious object. Character, in this view of it leads on to assurance. The
sufferers who, in the days of persecution, gave up property, liberty, friends,
and even life itself, for Christ, could stand in no doubt of the sincerity of
their faith, or of their personal interest in the blessings of salvation. Amid
their fiery trials, their faith glowed like gold in the crucible, and proclaimed
its own existence and nature. So now also, the tried believer who, with deep
submission, unmurmuring acquiescence, and holy peace—can patiently bear the will
of God—has proof of his personal faith, and may unfeignedly rejoice in hope of
the glory of God.


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  CHAPTER 56: 04.13.     A PURIFYING HOPE
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A PURIFYING HOPE The apostle John has set this quality and operation before us
in a clear and positive manner—"Every man that has this hope (in Christ), in
him, purifies himself, even as he is pure," 1 John 3:3. Every view we can take
of the work of redemption, shows its connection with holiness. The Father has
"chosen us before the foundation of the world, that we might be holy." The Son
did not die merely to save us from hell, and bring us to heaven—but to "redeem
us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous for
good works." The Spirit is given to "create us anew unto good works." If we are
called, it is "with a holy calling." If we are afflicted, it is that we might
"be partakers of God’s holiness." If we possess the Scriptures, it is "that we
might be sanctified by the truth."

Holiness is the image of God, stamped upon man’s soul at his creation—which
Satan marred, when his malignity could not reach the divine original. And to
restore us to holiness, is the ultimate object of redeeming mercy. What would
justification be without holiness—but like throwing a vestment of purple and
gold over a leprous body? What is heaven—but the region, the home, the very
center of holiness? Take away holiness from an angel, and he becomes a devil.
Add holiness to the nature of a devil, and he becomes an angel. Were a man
without holiness to enter heaven, its blessed inhabitants would run from him
with horror and alarm—as we would run from a person with the plague! Without
holiness, a soul in heaven would be like a nauseated man at a feast; he would
desire nothing, taste nothing, relish nothing. Hence, therefore, the meaning and
force of the apostle’s declaration, that hope is the great purifier. Fear of
hell may do something in this way—hope of heaven will do more! The MODEL of
Christian holiness is Christ, not merely in his divine—but in his human nature;
and that nature, not only in its heavenly—but in its earthly state. Christ as
the man of sorrows—as exposed to temptation—as subject to affliction—as the
servant of God—as the Son learning obedience by the things which he suffered—as
separate from sin and sinners, though dwelling in the midst of them. Here is our
model; the infinite, eternal, almighty God, exhibited in the miniature form of
the perfect man, presented in dimensions the eye can comprehend. In our zeal for
Christ’s divinity, let us not forget his humanity. The man Christ, the divine
man, the model man, must be before us, and our eye must be ever upon our copy
and our page.

"Every man who has this hope in him, purifies himself." While as a weak,
ignorant and sinful creature, his dependence is to be upon the Spirit of God.
But as a rational creature, he is to exert all his faculties of intellect,
heart, will, conscience, memory, in this great work of moral purification. The
apostle teaches us in this language that each individual’s moral cleansing
depends, under God, principally upon himself—not upon ministers, nor sermons,
nor ordinances, nor books—but upon himself—upon his care to watch over the
motions of his own heart—upon his vigilance to guard against temptations from
without—upon his meditation upon Christ’s example—upon his assiduity to seek, by
prayer, the support of God’s grace. A man that would cleanse his person from
defilement would not merely place himself beneath a falling shower of rain—but
would collect the descending water and apply it to his body. He would purify
himself—and so must we our souls.

Hope prompts to this purification; helps us in it; and gives energy and success
to our endeavors. All men act as they hope—their desires and expectations
dictate and ensure the appropriate conduct. This is an instinct of their nature,
a moral necessity, an infallible result. If a man has before him any worldly
object of desire and expectation—and there is some prerequisite which he must
possess, in order to gain his ulterior end—he will labor to secure this
prerequisite as absolutely indispensable. Now the Christian’s desire and
expectation are fixed upon heaven, his heart is upon heaven—but he is told
"without holiness no man shall see the Lord." Then he knows, he feels, he
determines, that he must be holy.

If we have some cherished object of desire, and there is something which must
fit us for enjoying it when it is possessed, we naturally labor to gain that
preparedness. The Christian knows that he could not enjoy heaven without
holiness, if he were admitted to its felicities—and therefore his hope sets him
upon this personal purification as his "fitness for the inheritance of the
saints in light." The desire and expectation of an earthly object makes us eager
at once to get as much of it as we can, even before we come into full possession
and fruition. The Christian knows that the chief felicity of heaven consists in
absolute sinless perfection. It is his bliss to think that there he shall,
according to his measure, be as holy as God is holy. It would be no heaven to
him—if he must take his sin with him. Holiness is the richest, ripest fruit that
grows on the tree of life, in the midst of the paradise of God. The believer’s
hope therefore prompts him to hunger and thirst after righteousness, as a means
of enjoying a pledge, a foretaste of heavenly bliss. Hope like the truehearted
spies sent by Joshua to search the promised land, crosses the Jordan, and
plucking the grapes of Eshcol, returns to bid the soul go forward. When we are
very intent on gaining an object, we are very glad to meet with evidence that we
are in the right way to obtain it, and we search very diligently for as much
proof as we can accumulate. What is the evidence, the only evidence, that can be
depended on that we are going to heaven? Holiness—conformity to the example of
Christ. Now he who is in earnest to reach the heavenly Canaan, whose heart is
set on that sublime and glorious object, will feel an intense solicitude to know
if he is in the way to it. A serious doubt on this subject is distressing to
him. Knowing that holiness is the proof of safety, he will ever be anxious to
conform himself to the example of Christ. He who is studying the life of Jesus,
as a child studies his copy to do reproduce it, need not doubt his state. He may
not, and will not be a perfect resemblance to Christ, any more than the boy at
school will equal his copy—but the great Master will approve of the sincere and
diligent attempt to do well, although there may be some defects, and
dissimilarities, and the writing have some irregularities, and the page some
blots. Nor is this all; the very contemplation of heaven, in which hope
indulges—has a transforming power. This passion naturally and necessarily
assimilates the mind of the person who cherishes it, to the object which he has
before him. The miser becomes more miserly; the sensualist more sensual; the
ambitious man more ambitious; the warrior more warlike—by their hopes. Desire
and expectation, in relation to earthly things, have a mighty power of
assimilation, and may be carried to such an extent, that the man’s soul becomes
quite possessed with the object on which his heart is set. So is it, in rational
measure, with the expectants of eternal glory.

What is heaven? We have again and again answered that question. It is not a
Roman Elysium; nor a Mohammedan Paradise—but a state where we shall see Christ
as he is, and be like him. It is the region of moral purity. Its inhabitants are
holy—the holy Father, the holy Savior, the holy Spirit, holy angels, and holy
men. Its occupations are holy—the service of God—the song of cherubim and
seraphim, crying Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty; and all other things in
harmony with this sacred employment and felicity.

Now every contemplation of this holy heavenly state tends to assimilate the soul
to its likeness. While gazing upon it, delighting in it, longing for it—we grow
in resemblance to it. Like as when a man turns his face to the sun, its rays
fall and dwell upon his countenance; or as when a polished mirror is turned to
the great luminary, it reflects its splendor—so the soul of the believer turned
heavenwards, becomes heavenly.

If, then, hope produces holiness, how important is it to keep up the power of
the cause—in order to the production of the effect. Despondency has a chilling,
withering influence upon the holy energies of the soul, like the cold north wind
on flowers and blossoms. While hope is the sunshine of the soul, which cherishes
the moral vegetation, and makes it look verdant and flourishing. The Christian
who would grow in grace, and make advances in spiritual purity, should keep up a
good hope. His doubts and fears are not only hindrances to his happiness—but to
his holiness also. Despondency is not only uncomfortable—but unholy.


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  CHAPTER 57: 04.14.     A HOPE THAT MAKES NOT ASHAMED
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A HOPE THAT MAKES NOT ASHAMED

"Hope makes not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by
the Holy Spirit which he has given to us."—Romans 5:6. This is a high
commendation of the grace we are now considering; one that by contrast will come
home to the heart of every believer. It is a peculiarity which can be scarcely
affirmed of any other expectation. Can the man of wealth, of pleasure, or of
ambition—say this of the object of his pursuit and possession? Perhaps the
apostle, when he wrote this passage, thought of that declaration of the
Psalmist—"Our fathers trusted in you, and were not confounded"— Psalms 22:4-5.
It is the true wisdom of faith, to strengthen itself by making a discreet yet
bold and unhesitating use of the experience of others. Especially should the
children of the godly, in their religious course and conflicts, apply for their
encouragement what their pious ancestors have testified, and, in pleading with
God, make use of his dealings with them as a ground of confidence for
themselves.

There are three grounds, and only three, on which men can be ashamed of their
hopes—

1. When in better states of mind, and in clearer views of the subject, they find
that they have desired and perhaps have obtained, a wrong thing—a thing which no
right-minded man ought to have coveted and sought. How large a portion of man’s
earthly desires and expectations are fixed on objects which true religion,
reason, and conscience—at length tell them are forbidden by God. It is awful to
think what a preponderance of human energy, in many men’s pursuits, is going
forth after illicit gains and pleasures! In some few cases, alas, how few—they
are at last brought to see their iniquity, and to blush over it! They discover,
to their shame and confusion, that they had been kindling unhallowed fires in
their soul, and, like Balaam, resolutely going forward in a forbidden path. Oh,
the confusion, humiliation, and deep compunction which some have felt in looking
back upon past objects of desire and expectation. Bad hopes have caused bitter
tears to myriads!

It is of course a mercy to find out that they were bad, and to abandon them—but
how much greater a mercy never to have had them! And this is the climax of all
mercy to know, as the Christian does, that his is a "good hope." His desires and
expectations are indulged under the approving smile of true piety, reason, and
conscience. Who ever blushed over the hope of heaven? Let the Christian raise
his desires to the greatest intensity, let him carry his expectations up to the
highest pitch, he never need to check his ardor; he never need to say, "Am I
right in all this?" May I not be yet ashamed of having thought, and felt, and
wished, and labored so earnestly?

2. Men are ashamed of hopes that end in utter disappointment. Of the objects of
earthly pursuit, how many turn out to be mere shadows? Think what millions every
day sit down in grief and dismay, amid the wreck of shattered schemes, and then
lay their heads at night upon their pillows—to pass the sleepless hours of
silence and darkness in ruminating upon defeated purposes and frustrated
expectations. How much of human grief arises from this source!

True it is, that in multitudes of these cases men are the victims of folly—as
well as of disappointment. They had been employed in building ’castles in the
air’. Their desires were the offspring of unholy ambition—and their hopes had no
other basis than their own wild imaginations. Observers saw, if they themselves
did not, that there was no probability in their prospects; their hopes were the
speculations of their imaginations, and they therefore deserved the
disappointment they experienced. But this does not apply to all.

Even those who are most moderate in their desires, and most sober in their
expectations, who have reason, true religion and conscience on their side, and
are thus justified both by God and man in their plans—even these are doomed
oftentimes to disappointment. It is said of God, in dealing with us, "He
disappoints the hope of man." I admit that in such cases there may be no shame
felt over the object selected, or the means used; no consciousness of guilt, no
blushing for folly—but still, in a mitigated and figurative sense, even such
people are ashamed of their hopes. This will not apply to the Christian. No
disappointment awaits him. He, in his expectations of life eternal, is building
no castles in the air. His is "a sure and certain hope." Its foundation is the
work of Christ, the promise and oath of God. Should he even be mistaken in his
faith—should he have been following only cunningly-devised fables in resting his
belief on the gospel of Christ—should he sink at death into annihilation, even
in that case he would not live to blush; he will have no existence, and
therefore have no consciousness of disappointment. But this is a mere ’negative
view’ of the subject. The gospel is not a cunningly-devised fable, or a divine
revelation; he will live, and will realize his expectation, and have his desires
gratified. No, no! wherever there is disappointment elsewhere—there will be none
here. His most assured earthly expectations may fail; what appear to be
substances may be only shadows; what seemed to be stars may be only meteors. But
this awaits not the Christian. Heaven is no mere speculation. It is a glorious
certainty. All the evidences of Christianity, as a revelation from God, sustain
his anticipations. Doubts and fears now sometimes, like fleecy clouds swimming
over the sun’s disc, occasionally throw their shadows on his path, and for a
little while darken his prospect—but even these will all vanish, and the whole
scene of heavenly glory, will shine out in cloudless and eternal splendor.

3. But there is another cause of men’s being ashamed of their earthly hopes, and
that is, the disproportion between the expectation and the fruition. How far
short, in most cases, does the reality fall of the anticipation—"Hope tells a
flattering tale," and always looks at its object through a magnifying medium,
and usually one of high power—and paints it also in colors supplied rather by
the imagination than the judgment. To him who surveys the prospect from an
eminence, where everything looks beautiful, the cottage and the homestead are
all picturesque—but how different an aspect does it wear when these parts of the
picture are surveyed near at hand, with the dirty heaps, and broken windows, and
shattered doors, and other signs of poverty, which distance had hidden from
view. So is it with our hopes. Distance lends enchantment to the scene, which
usually dissolves on a near approach.

How few of our expectations have been realized up to their full amount. How
often, when we have gained the object of desire and pursuit, have we exclaimed,
with surprise and grief—"And is this all? O you mirthful deceiver, how have you
beguiled and cheated me. Have all your promises come to this?" In ordinary cases
this is true, and in some it is absolutely afflictive. How much time, strength,
energy and money have been sometimes expended upon an object of desire; what
expectations have been indulged; what bright visions have been raised; what
blissful anticipations have been let loose; what large calculations of coming
enjoyment have been made, and all this to issue in the sad confession, "Is this
all?" Must not such a man be ashamed of his hope?

Again, I triumphantly say that this will never happen to the Christian when he
reaches heaven. He will never have to say, "Is this all?" The Queen of Sheba,
when she saw the glory of Solomon, confessed, with delighted surprise, "That the
half had not been told to her." And the glorified spirit will declare that a
thousandth part had not been told. A thousandth part of heaven would a thousand
times more than compensate—for all the time, the energy, the strength we have
spent in seeking after it! Could heaven only be obtained by a thousand
martyrdoms, successively endured—it would be a cheap purchase of "the
incorruptible, undefiled inheritance, which does not fade away."

If there be shame in heaven it will not be that our hopes were so high—but that
they were so low; not that we expected too much—but too little. How will it
surprise us as we walk the golden streets, that we could, with such a prospect
before us, dwell so little upon it. No taunt will be thrown at us from any
quarter, "See what your hope has come to—do you not blush to compare the reality
with the expectation?" But now dwell upon the logic of the apostle, as well as
upon his assertion, "Hope makes not ashamed, because the love of God is shed
abroad in our hearts, by the Holy Spirit, which he has given to us." The "love
of God" is an ambiguous phrase, and means, in some places, God’s love to us, and
in others, our love to God. Commentators are divided in opinion, as to which of
these the apostle refers to in this passage. By a proper explanation, I think
both may be included. When a person loves us, and is kind to us, he sheds abroad
upon us his love—by conferring upon us its fruits. His love is inherent in
himself—it is its gifts that are bestowed upon us. And yet, in common parlance,
we say he has bestowed much kindness upon us.

God sheds abroad his love in our hearts, by giving us the Holy Spirit. Now the
Spirit of God, by his work in us, gives us assurance that our hope will never
make us ashamed; and he does this in two ways.

First—By giving us a foretaste, pledge, and fitness of the heavenly inheritance.
He imparts such a bright view, and such a deep sense of God’s love to us, and
causes this so to fill the heart with joy unspeakable, as to convince the soul,
from its happiness in this world, that in the full enjoyment of this love in
heaven, there will be no disappointment. Some believers, as John Howe,
Halyburton, Payson, and others, have had such a perception and sense of God’s
love, as was almost overpowering—and even believers of less stature have known
something of this. There are moments in the life of all real Christians, when
their views and sense of God’s love, in itself and in its gifts, are so vivid,
as to lead them to say, "No—this cannot be delusion—this frame of mind must be
God’s work; and if, in this world of ignorance, and earthliness, and
imperfection, there is such happiness—what will heaven be, where the sun of
God’s love will, without any intervening clouds, pour its full effulgence upon
my happy spirit?"

Then the work of the Holy Spirit is not only to reveal God’s love to us—but to
produce in us love to God in return. "We love him," said the apostle, "because
he first loved us." In ordinary cases, love generally produces love. It always
does here. Wherever the Holy Spirit really gives a clear view and deep sense of
God’s love to us, he, by the same operation of his grace, subdues the enmity of
the carnal mind, and produces a genuine and supreme love to God. And who, that
knows the reality and power of this divine passion, does not know that it is
heaven begun? Christian reader, have there not been moments in your experience,
when love to God has been so fervid in your soul, when the heaven-kindled flame
has burnt so strongly, as to compel you to say, "If heaven, as I am taught, is
to consist, so far as its subjective happiness is concerned, in the perfect love
of God—I feel assured, from what I now experience, that I can never there be
ashamed of my hope." And then there is another way in which the work of God’s
Spirit assures us we shall never be ashamed of our hope—and that is, this work
strengthens our faith in the divine origin and truth of the gospel. We have
already shown how faith and hope operate on each other. Faith, of course, is the
originator and sustainer of the hope. But then hope may strengthen faith, by
acting back upon it.

Among the evidences of the truth of Christianity, the ’experimental’ one is, to
many people, the strongest, and to all really converted people, it carries great
weight—"He who believes, has the witness in himself." Chalmers truly says, "That
in the course of the believer’s pilgrimage, never does the hope of experience
supersede the hope of faith. So far from this, in the very proportion that
experience grows in breadth, does faith grow in brightness. And it is this last,
which still constitutes the sheet anchor of the soul, and forms the main element
of its peace, and joy, and righteousness. It is well that in looking inwardly
upon himself, he sees the growing lineaments of such a grace and such a
character forming upon his person, as to manifest him to be ripening for
eternity. But along with this process, he will look outwardly upon God in
Christ, and there see, in constantly increasing manifestation, the truth, and
mercy, and the unchangeableness of his reconciled Father—by far the firmest and
stablest guarantee of his future destiny. The same agent, in fact, who brings
about the one effect, brings about the other. He causes you not merely to see
yourself to be an epistle of the Spirit of God, and to read therein the works of
your personal interest in the promises—but he also causes you to see the
promises, as standing in the outward record, invested with a light, and an
honesty, and a freeness, which you did not see at the first revelation of them."

Thus the good works and the graces of personal religion, which are the fruits of
the Spirit—not merely supply you with a foretaste of heaven, and assure you that
it will exceed all your highest and happiest attainments now—but they cast back
a reflex light on the faith from which they emanated, and equally convince you
of the certainty as well as greatness of that celestial state. So that God’s
love to us, revealed by the light of the Spirit; and our love to God, produced
by the same divine agent—assure us we shall never be ashamed of our
anticipations of heaven.


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  CHAPTER 58: 04.15.     THE HARMONY BETWEEN HOPE AND FEAR
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THE HARMONY BETWEEN HOPE AND FEAR

All the affections of the soul have their opposites—as love and hatred; joy and
grief; hope and fear. These, though seemingly antagonistic, can be shown to work
harmoniously, and sometimes, as in the case before us, to accomplish the same
object. There are many passages, as this treatise proves, in which the believer
is called upon to hope, to hope perfectly, to have the full assurance of
hope—and yet as many in which he is as earnestly called upon to fear. To say
nothing of the texts of the Old Testament, which was a system of bondage and
fear, there are many to the same effect in the New Testament, under which we
have "not received the spirit of bondage again to fear—but the spirit of power,
of love, and of a sound mind." "Work out your salvation," said the apostle,
"with fear and trembling." "Let us fear, lest a promise being left us of
entering into his rest, any of you should seem to come short of it." "Pass the
time of your sojourning here in fear." Very many others might be selected—but
these will suffice to show that fear, as well as hope, is a Christian grace, and
a grace to be exercised not only by the unconverted—but the converted man; not
only by the man without hope—but by the man who has hope.

Now as these two are antagonistic in their nature, how can they be exercised by
the same individual, in reference to the same object? Does not perfect hope, as
well as perfect love—cast out fear? Certainly. But then it must be perfect love
in one case, and perfect hope in the other. "God has wisely ordained that these
two opposite principles of love and fear should rise and fall like the two
opposite scales of a balance, when one rises the other sinks. Light and darkness
unavoidably succeed each other. If light increases—so much does darkness cease,
and no more. And if light diminishes—so much does darkness prevail. So it is in
the heart of a child of God; if divine love decays, and falls asleep—the light
and joy of hope go out, and dark fear arises. And if, on the contrary, divine
love prevails and comes into lively exercise—this brings in the brightness of
hope, and drives away black fear before it." (Jonathan Edwards)

Another of our old divines represents the matter thus—"Fear and hope in the soul
of a Christian are like the cork and lead to a net; the cork keeps it from
sinking, and the lead keeps it from too much floating. So it is here, fear keeps
hope from degenerating into presumption—and hope keeps fear from sinking into
despair. If you detach fear from hope—the soul will be lazy; and if you detach
hope from fear—the soul will sink into despondency. Therefore there must be fear
with true hope." (Bates, vol. 3, page 185)

Let us, however, examine this a little further. Can any hope, however strong and
assured, altogether exclude fear? Certainly not. And the greater the object, the
greater will be the liability to fear. To be totally without fear is the
condition of ’possession and fruition’. A man in the pursuit of an earthly
object, however confident he may be of ultimately possessing it, must admit,
theoretically, at least, the possibility, if not the probability, of his losing
it. The thought must, and does, occasionally cross his mind, that after all he
may be disappointed, and the consequences of disappointment must be at the same
time present to his thoughts. This fear may be, and is, far less than his hopes;
it may not materially lessen the assurance of his mind that he shall succeed—but
it is there, and it is useful to him—for it keeps him in action—it sustains as
well as prompts exertion. So is it in the divine life. As long as heaven is an
’object of hope’, and not the ’subject of possession’—there must be some degree
of fear mingled with it. And this proves that even the full assurance of hope
does not mean, as we have shown, a man’s being as certain of reaching heaven at
last, as if he were already in it. The Christian hope, like the Christian love,
when it is perfect, does exclude fear. But what fear? That fear which has
torment—the servile spirit of bondage, which, like a specter, is ever haunting
and terrifying the imagination, filling the soul with such trembling forebodings
of wrath to come, as prevents all joy and peace in believing. This is the fear
which both love and hope shut out, and keep out from the soul; a fear that is
ever trembling under an apprehension of an angry God and a coming hell; a fear
that upon every fresh discovery of sin, and every fresh sense of guilt, is
thrown into despondency and wrapped in darkness; a fear that, under every new
sight of our spiritual enemies, difficulties and dangers, and every new
consciousness of our own weakness, sinks into a paroxysm of despairing
helplessness; a fear that turns the soul more frequently to the threatenings of
God’s Word than to his promises; that is more frequently at Sinai than at
Calvary, and is more apt to dwell upon the torments of hell than the felicities
of heaven.

Such a fear is the spirit of bondage, which is decidedly opposed to the spirit
of adoption, and shows that the soul is not yet brought into the liberty with
which Christ makes his people free. This fear which has torment—hope casts out.
But a fear that produces reverence and caution, that makes its subject watchful
against sin, and, in a modified and chastened sense, afraid of coming short of
the heavenly felicity—hope does not cast out. In fact, the more hope there is,
the more of this godly fear, there will be.

How closely and how beautifully are these two affections united by the
Psalmist—"The Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him—in those who hope in his
mercy." Holy fear and confident hope therefore may not only exist together—but
must exist together. This striking passage, in which these two affections are so
balanced, we should all have as a frontlet before our eyes, and engraved, as
upon the palms of our hands. Satan, so skillful in the art of temptation, and so
successful in the business of destruction—has machinations adapted to all
constitutions and cases And while he tempts the fearful to despair—endeavors to
seduce the confident to presumption, careless security, unwatchfulness, and sin.
He never so glories in his triumphs, as when he can make their very expectation
of heaven, by its inflating them with some degree of spiritual pride, the
occasion of their fall. Holy fear will be to our joy, what the cooling influence
of water is to the heated iron—that which prevents it from firing the whole, by
the rapidity of its motion and the intensity of its friction.

We see, then, what is the Christian’s true temper of mind. There should be a
prevailing, sustaining, assured hope of eternal life—such as is attended with no
serious, perplexing, much less tormenting doubt of its final possession—and such
as shall enable the believer to go on his way rejoicing. Yet this, attended with
so much fear of falling short, as while it does not materially interfere with
his strong consolation—shall keep him watchful, diligent, and prayerful. Thus
hope and fear, like the two angels that led Lot from Sodom to Zoar, shall
conduct the Christian from the city of destruction—to the celestial city!


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  CHAPTER 59: 04.16.     HOPE ONLY IN THIS LIFE
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HOPE ONLY IN THIS LIFE "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of
all men most miserable." 1 Corinthians 15:19 This passage has been, to some
pious people, a source of perplexity as seeming to suggest the idea that all the
happiness which Christianity brings to people, belongs to the eternal world—and
that if this hope fails us, the life of the infidel and the worldling is to be
preferred to that of the believer. This is contrary to the views and feelings of
all true Christians—for they are ever ready to acknowledge that, even should
Christianity be a fable and there were no heaven to come, they have found more
true peace of mind and felicity in a life of piety—than they once did, or ever
could, in a life of sin. This is very true, and the passage does not intend to
assert that there is no real happiness in the present practice of piety. The
apostle teaches in another place, that "Godliness is profitable for all things,
having the promise of the life that now is, as well as of that which is to
come"—and millions have found it so!

Paul therefore does not mean, in this passage, to contradict the testimony of
Solomon, "That wisdom’s ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are
peace." There is a pure and solid happiness in piety, compared with which the
pleasures of sin are as muddy streams, compared to the water of the clear
flowing spring. So that even if there were no future state, there is more
pleasure in the way of holiness, than of transgression.

Some have supposed the apostle alludes exclusively to himself and his
fellow-laborers in the cause of Christ, whose life was one constant and dreadful
martyrdom. And truly, apart from the hope of immortality, and the final
possession of eternal glory—they were the most miserable of men, especially when
to their sufferings we add the self-reproach and agonies of conscience they must
have sometimes endured, under the consciousness, if Christ did not rise, of
being false witnesses for God, in testifying his resurrection. They must, in
that case, have been not only the greatest of sufferers—but the basest of
criminals. But though in a ’special manner’ it was applicable to them, and to
all others who have drank to its dregs the bitter cup of persecution, this
passage does not apply exclusively to them. That there was a special and primary
reference to them is, I think, evident from what Paul said in his former
epistle—1 Corinthians 4:9-14. And from his mention of his own case, in 1
Corinthians 15:31-32. But still there is also a general principle contained in
this passage—and that is, that the chief happiness of the Christian is to be
waited for—in faith and hope—and is to come in the eternal world. It is of great
importance to bear this constantly in remembrance, as it would check that too
great eagerness after amusement, and that impatience under self-denial, which
are manifested by many professing Christians. We are not so much to seek for
perfect happiness here in this present world—as to prepare for perfect happiness
hereafter. There can be no doubt that the Christian life, whatever felicity it
yields, and much it does yield—is, notwithstanding, a constant state of self
denial. We are to "mortify our members which are upon earth," and to "crucify
the flesh with the affections and lusts thereof." There are many sources of
enjoyment forbidden to the children of light, to which the children of this
world repair without scruple or reluctance. Christians see the joyous
countenances of the lovers of pleasure, and hear their merry voices, and feel
sometimes a sense of sacrifice in retiring from the forbidden fruit. They are
often called to take up a ’cross’—while others grasp a ’garland of delight’.
That man knows not his own heart, or has forgotten its history and its
occasional yearnings, who denies that he has never felt the motions of the
flesh, after some of the purest of the works of the flesh. What is it that
enables the believer to carry on this life of sacrifice—and to separate himself
from gaieties and delights which others enjoy? To retire, and sometimes to
retire amid the anger, ridicule, and persecution of his friends and companions?
To be laughed at as a puritan, precisionist, or hypocrite? The hope of eternal
life! He deems many things which those around him approve, to be contrary to his
expectations of eternal glory. Take from him this hope therefore—and he is in
some respects a pitiable man. In proportion to the elevation of our hopes, are
we to be commiserated for their final disappointment. And no one has such hopes
as the Christian—so high, so vast, so sublime. Is it not a deplorable condition
to be in—to embrace a cross, to become ridiculously peculiar, obnoxious to many,
and often to be disturbed in ourselves—by the chase of a bubble, and in
contemplation of a vision?

It does not, follow however, we again say, that Christians would be in fact more
unhappy than other men, if there should be no future reward. For even then their
expectations of it, and the consolation they have thence derived—would
counterbalance their peculiar trials, self-denials, and hardships. No! No! The
apostle did not intend to teach that apart from a future world, a man would be
more happy in vice than in virtue. In the love of God, in purity of life, in the
means of grace, in the fellowship of the saints—he has far more real happiness
than the sinner has in his evil courses. The apostle does not refer so much to
their personal feelings—as to their final condition and their hopes. At the same
time we would most emphatically remark, that the Scriptures do not represent as
the only or chief motive to good conduct—that virtue is its own reward. It is
so, we know, as we all must have experienced who have practiced it. But this is
too much opposed in some cases to the temporal interests of mankind, and
therefore too feeble a motive for promoting its practice with the generality of
men. Mr. Hall has most correctly, as well as most eloquently argued that "the
system of infidelity is not only incapable of arming virtue for great and trying
occasions—but leaves it unsupported in the most ordinary occurrences. In vain
will its advocates expatiate on the tranquility and pleasure attendant on a
virtuous course; for though you may remind the offender that in disregarding
them he has violated his nature, and that a conduct consistent with them is
productive of much internal satisfaction; yet if he replies that his taste is of
a different sort, that there are other gratifications which he values more, and
that every man must choose his own pleasures, the argument is at an end.

"Rewards and punishments assigned by infinite power, afford a palpable and
pressing motive, which can never be neglected without renouncing the character
of a rational creature—but tastes and relishes are not to be prescribed.

"As the present world is to infidelity the only place of recompense, whenever
the practice of virtue fails to promise the greatest sum of present good; cases
which often occur in reality, and much oftener in appearance; a deviation from
rectitude becomes the part of wisdom; and should the path of virtue, in addition
to this, be obstructed by disgrace, torment, or death—to persevere would be
madness and folly, and a violation of the great and most essential law of
nature. Virtue being on these principles in numberless instances at war with
self-preservation, never can, or ought to become, a fixed habit of the mind."


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  CHAPTER 60: 04.17.     THE HOPE OF THE HYPOCRITE
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THE HOPE OF THE HYPOCRITE With what frequency and impressive solemnity is this
subject referred to in Scripture, especially in the book of Job. The complicated
sorrows of the suffering patriarch were bitterly aggravated by the suspicions,
accusations, and reproaches of his sadly mistaken friends. Adopting the false
principle that character is manifested by providential dealings—they interpreted
his afflictive condition as a punishment for his sins, and a revelation of his
hypocrisy. Hence the application to him of such language as the following–

"The hypocrite’s hope shall perish."—Job 8:13 "A hypocrite shall not come before
him."—Job 13:16 "The congregation of hypocrites shall be desolate."—Job 15:34
"The joy of the hypocrite is but for a moment."—Job 20:5 "What is the hope of a
hypocrite, though he has gained, when God takes away his soul."—Job 27:8.

These passages contain a dreadful truth—but they did not apply to Job! A
hypocrite is the most odious of all characters on earth, and a character that
has always been found upon earth. There are hypocrites in all departments of
human action, in politics, in friendship, in business, in morals, and alas in
Christianity also. "Wherever there is genuine coin, it will be likely to be
counterfeited; and the fact of a counterfeit is always a tribute to the
intrinsic worth of the coin—for who would be at the pains to counterfeit what is
worthless?"

It is the greatest madness in the world, as well as wickedness in the world—to
be a hypocrite in religious profession. The worldling hates him for being a
Christian even in appearance; God hates him doubly, because he is a Christian
only in appearance. He has thus the detestation of both, and no comfort in
himself. "Yet, if you will not be good as you seem," says Bishop Hall, "I hold
it better to seem bad as you are. An openly wicked man does much hurt with
notorious sins—but a hypocrite does at last more harm by seeming good. I would
rather be an open wicked man than a hypocrite—but I would rather be no man, than
either of them." The same good Prelate, in a sermon which he preached before the
King’s court—a sermon which has more of awful denunciation against sin, and
threatenings against sinners, and descriptions of eternal torment, than the
plainest Methodist preacher would now like to deliver—has the following quaint
remarks, "He who has only the form of godliness is a hypocrite—he who has not
even a form is an atheist. I know not whether I should sever these two—both are
human devils—a hypocrite is a masked devil; an atheist is a devil unmasked.
Which of them, without repentance, shall be deeper in the hell they shall both
hereafter feel, I determine not." (This is but a specimen, and a slight one too,
of the language which even in those corrupt days was addressed by Episcopal lips
to Courtly ears. In reading the sermons which in those days were delivered both
by the serious Episcopal preachers, as well as by Nonconformists, I am
astonished at their plainness, their earnestness, and their fearlessness. Who
can read their discourses, without feeling how much the modern pulpit is
inferior, in intense earnestness, to the preachers of those times. It may be
they erred on the side of coarse descriptions of the consequences of sin, and
the punishment of sinners—but we err as much on the side of a false refinement,
and are almost afraid to mention hell to polite ears.)

Hypocrisy, in its generic sense, means pretending to true religion, while there
is none—keeping up the semblance without the reality. But there are TWO CLASSES
OF HYPOCRITES—or, at any rate, two degrees of hypocrisy.

1. Those who, though they profess to be religious, know they are not, and who
have assumed the profession for some worldly advantage they expect to gain by
it, either in the way of profit or applause. They are intentional deceivers, and
are conscious of the deception they are practicing. These are, in the fullest
sense of the word, hypocrites. It is to these our Lord alludes, with so much
indignation, in his ministry. This is the most disgusting and loathsome species
of hypocrisy.

2. The other kind are the formal, refined, and unintentional hypocrites; that
is, the men who have but the semblance of true religion, yet ignorantly mistake
it for the substance. "Now both these agree in this, that they are deceivers,
for deceit is the formal constituent element of hypocrisy—but their difference
lies in this, that the one purposely deceives others—the other unintentionally
deceives himself; the one resolvedly goes towards hell—the other sets out for
heaven, but carelessly mistakes the way; one is a mere shadow—the other is a
rotten substance." The first is a much rarer character than the other. It is
only now and then we meet with hypocrisy in its intentional and grosser form—but
on every hand crowds are to be found who are self-deceived. Our cities, towns,
and villages, are, to a considerable extent, peopled with them; and they abound
even in our churches. Self-deception was not unknown in our Lord’s time, and
under his ministry. Even when a cross stood in the way of a Christian
profession, and in order to become a professor a man must take it up and bear it
onward, under these circumstances self-deception was frequent. "Not everyone who
says to me, ’Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does
the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ’Lord,
Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and
perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ’I never knew you. Away
from me, you evildoers!’" Matthew 7:21-23. This is really one of the most
alarming passages of Holy Writ, as showing how far people may go in
self-deception, and how perseveringly they may continue in it—even to death, and
through it, up to the very judgment seat of Christ! When persecution raged, and
it might have been supposed no one could impose upon himself by a mere form of
godliness without the power, and nothing short of real conversion by divine
grace could lead anyone to take up the Christian name—even then, this modified
hypocrisy prevailed, and unsound profession was common. How much more common
might it be supposed to be now, when we sit under our vine and fig tree, none
daring to harm us—when it adds to, rather than detracts from, our
respectability—when it calls for so little self-denial and self-sacrifice. I am
truly alarmed and terrified at the thought of this state of things, when
multitudes are going down to the pit with a lie in their right hand—floating to
perdition on the stream of delusion!

Hypocrites may have, and really have, their hopes—even the grosser class of
them. They misunderstand the holy and righteous character of God, and endeavor
to persuade themselves he is too merciful to destroy any of his creatures. They
misapprehend the nature of sin in general, and have light views of their own.
They find out all extenuating circumstances of their sins, and persuade
themselves that there is a kind of necessity for their seeming to be religious,
combined with an impossibility of their being actually so. Then in order to
defend themselves from the accusations of their conscience, they will be often
bribing and endeavoring to pacify it with some specious outward performances.
When this will not do, they will contrive to shelter themselves under the
pretext that there is a little hypocrisy in those who are considered real
Christians, since none of them quite live up to their profession.

If this is insufficient, they will found their hopes upon the principles of
infidelity, and believe that all true religion is a sham, and that they shall do
as well in the next world, after serving themselves by a pretended religion in
this world—as those who are sincere. Especially will they lay hold of the
failings of strict professors, and bolster up their expectations by saying, If
these do much in the way of sin, they may do much more, and get to heaven at
last. Hypocrites will often keep up their hope by comparing themselves with
others who are openly vicious, and apparently worse than they are; and think
themselves religious, not from any goodness of their own—but from the badness of
others. "They raise a structure of reputed holiness, and therefore of hope—upon
the deplorable ruins of other men’s character. This was the chief ground of the
Pharisee’s hope—he was not as other men, an adulterer, covetous, swearer, or the
like. There are many paths to perdition in the broad way, some of which are more
cleanly and some more foul, yet they all lead to the same end. And they shall as
certainly arrive at hell, who tread the cleanlier paths of a refined hypocrisy,
as those who track through the mire and dirt of the grossest abominations." But
how shall we account for the false hope of the other class of hypocrites, the
unintentional ones? In much the same way as in the preceding case, with some
additional causes. Ignorance of the nature of true religion; setting up false
standards of personal godliness, such as church relationship, and an orthodox
creed; depending upon the opinions of others concerning their state, rather than
the testimony of their own conscience; mistaking a mere excitement of the
emotions for real conversion; relying upon a public profession as an evidence of
the possession of divine grace in the soul; comparing themselves with the great
bulk of professors, and concluding that they are as good, and shall do as well,
as they; and especially the neglect of close, anxious, serious, and deep
examination of their own state.

Self-deception begins in ignorance, and is continued by the lack of
self-examination. A man must dive into his own heart, if he would know his
state; he must take the candle of the Lord, which is the word of God, and go
down into the depths of his own soul, and search every corner—just as he would
his cellar, in which he feared was concealed a thief, a murderer, or a kindling
fire. No wonder so many are deceiving themselves, when they are so fearfully
neglectful of this duty of "testing their own selves." It were almost to be
desired that in addition to the silent admonition of Scripture, and the earnest
exhortations from the pulpit, the sound would break in thunder from the skies,
"Examine yourselves, whether you be in the faith," and that the voice of the
archangel, and the trumpet of God, which are to usher in the day of judgment,
would awaken the slumbering multitude with those words—"Be not deceived, God is
not mocked!" Ordinary methods lamentably fail. Under the most searching
ministry, the most alarming sermons, and the most discriminating marks of
sincerity laid down—a fatal delusion sends multitudes to perdition. But this
hope of the hypocrite shall perish. It sometimes dies out in life, and the
deceived man sinks down into a comfortless creature, without a beam of joy, or a
feeling of peace. It was never more than a dim spark—and now in some great
affliction, or sudden calamity, that expires, and leaves him in rayless night.
He finds out his delusion and sees that his were but the groundless expectations
of an unconverted man. The world fails him, and his hope has vanished under the
ruins of his fortune. He realizes now the force of Bildad’s cutting
interrogation—"Can papyrus reeds grow where there is no marsh? Can bulrushes
flourish where there is no water? While they are still flowering, not ready to
be cut, they begin to wither. Such is the fate of all who forget God. The hope
of the hypocrite comes to nothing. Everything they count on will collapse. They
are leaning on a spiderweb. They cling to their home for security, but it won’t
last. They try to hold it fast, but it will not endure." Job 8:11-15. Or under
some heart-searching sermon, or awakening book, his false hopes fall from around
him—and the dreadful secret of his unchanged heart, is revealed to him.

Many carry on the delusion to their death-bed. The last enemy often comes to
shatter with dreadful power the vain confidences of hypocritical professors. All
his fond expectations then upbraid him to his face; Satan, his greatest
flatterer, shall then laugh him to scorn; death shall confute all his
confidences, and the dawning lights of eternity convince him that his hopes of
heaven were groundless and irrational.

Many, however are not awakened even by the harsh voice of the king of terrors,
from the dream of a false profession. They pass through the dark valley, with
the delusive light of a lamp of their own kindling—but which, the next moment,
is quenched in the darkness of eternal night. The hope of the hypocrite then
perishes—in the day when God takes away his soul.

Few things are more tormenting to a man than the feelings of a disappointment,
and it is the climax of all misery, the most venomous of all—poison of the
spirit, when to these are added the torments of self-reproach. How dreadful will
be the disappointment and remorse of the hypocrite, when death, which closes his
eyes to all the scenes of earth, shall open them to those of the bottomless pit!

Oh, think of a man who has been long away from his pleasant home, his wife and
children, enduring all kinds of hardships, of bad weather, rough roads,
uncomfortable inns, great fear of dangers, and much unkind treatment—but who
solaces himself all the while with sweet thoughts of his arrival at his own
house, and the bosom of his family—but who, as soon as he reaches the threshold
of his dwelling, is seized, put in chains, and immured for life in a dark
dungeon—what horror, and surprise, and overwhelming disappointment seize and
hold him! But what is this to the horror and surprise of him who, when he
expects to arise from the bed of death, to the felicities of heaven, sinks from
it to the miseries of hell. In the case of the traveler just mentioned, if he be
a Christian, he carries to his dungeon the hope of immortality, and knows that
however bitter his disappointment, and however long his confinement, he shall
rise at last from that dismal state, to a glorious eternity, made more glorious
at length, by contrast with his previous one. But the hope of the hypocrite
makes his eternity more miserable, by its contrast with the expectations he had
until then indulged. How terrible is the language of Dr. South, "Former
happiness is the greatest ingredient of present misery. It would be some relief
to a condemned sinner, if with the loss of his hope, he could lose his memory
too—but alas, when he shall lie down in sorrow and torment, this will recall to
his mind all that peace, comfort, and tranquility, that his false hopes formerly
fed him with. No voice will be heard in hell so loud and frequent as this sad
and doleful one. ’My hopes deceived me, my confidence deluded me.’ Nothing so
comfortable as hope crowned with fruition; nothing so tormenting as hopes
snapped off with disappointment and frustration. And were it lawful to wish an
enemy completely miserable, I would wish that he might have strong hopes—which
he never obtains. Now from what has been determined, I think we may truly
conclude, that of the two, the despairing reprobate is happier than the hoping
reprobate. They both indeed, fall equally low—but then he who hopes has the
greater fall, because he falls from the highest place. He who despairs goes to
hell—but then he goes there with expectation; though he is condemned, he is not
surprised; he has inured his heart to the flames, and has made those terrors
familiar to him, by the continual horrors of his meditation; so that when he
dies, he passes but from one hell to another, and his actual condemnation is not
the beginning—but the carrying on of his former torment. In short, to express
the wretchedness of the hypocrite’s hope, I shall only add this—certainly that
must needs be exceeding dismal, in comparison of which despair is desirable."

These are awful words, and should send an alarm to every heart, and exert an
awakening power ever every conscience. Under any circumstances that will be a
solemn moment, when God takes away our soul, even though he take it to heaven.

"In vain our fancy strives to paint, The moment after death!"

What a conviction will that be, when the disembodied spirit says, "I am in
eternity." Oh, the felicity, the rapture, of being able to add, "I am safe, I am
in heaven!" It would seem as if the soul would sink under the far more exceeding
and eternal weight of glory which will then come upon it, surround it, absorb
it. But oh, the dreadful reverse! The indescribable, overwhelming astonishment,
consternation, and horror of the hypocrite, who wakes up amid the scenes of the
bottomless pit—it is not for language to set forth nor imagination to conceive
the torment that will in a moment come over the miserable soul, whose first
words in eternity will be, "I am lost, lost, lost, forever—I am in hell." It is
not only happiness that will then expire—but hope. The wretched spirit will look
through the vista of millions of ages, and see no glimmering spark of this to
relieve its present sense of unutterable woe. It will then fully realize the
terrible import of the words of Milton:

"Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell; hope
never comes, That comes to all—but torture without end." May these words have
their due effect upon us all. May they lead us to ask in deep solemnity, "Is
mine the hope of the hypocrite? A hope that will thus ’make me ashamed,’ or is
it ’a good hope through grace’? Am I one of the many victims of self-deception,
or am I an Israelite indeed? Is my profession a lie or a truth?" Oh, consider,
it is eternity that is at stake upon this question. It is heaven or hell that
depends upon it. What a motive to examination; close, anxious, honest
examination; how earnest, prayerful, solicitous we should be; not to persuade
ourselves that we are true Christians—but to see if we are. Let us all, under
the influence of these thoughts, carry to God the prayer of the Psalmist,
"Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts—and see if
there be any wicked way in me—and lead me in the way everlasting."


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  CHAPTER 61: 04.18.     HOPE IN DEATH
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HOPE IN DEATH "The wicked is driven away in his wickedness—but the righteous has
hope in his death." Proverbs 14:32.

Death is a dreadful event. It is that monster, from the sight and touch of
which, all sensible beings recoil with instinctive alarm and dread. Had death
occurred but in one single instance, it would fill with surprise and horror all
who beheld it. We can form no conception of the feelings of our first parents,
when they saw the dead body of their murdered Abel, and for the first time
understood the meaning of that word, death. By one of the boldest and most
impressive personifications of Scripture imagery, death is called "The King of
Terrors." "They are torn from the security of their tent, and they are brought
down to the king of terrors." Job 18:14. And who that has witnessed it or duly
considered it, will say the metaphor is too strong? O most dreadful point,
death—which is the end of time, and beginning of eternity! O most fearful
instant, death—which ends the pre-determined term of life, and determines the
business of our salvation—what things, and how many, and how vast are to take
place in you! In the same instant, life is to finish, all our works are to be
examined, and that state fixed which is to last through all eternity! Merciful
God, prepare us by your grace for that event, so pregnant with eternal
consequences.

"It is appointed unto man once to die." What is only to be once done, should be
well done. If a person dies wrongly, it cannot be mended by dying well at
another time. God gives some of our senses and our limbs by pairs, that if one
be lost or injured, we might not be totally disabled—but of deaths he gives us
but one; so that if that miscarry, all is lost, and we are ruined for eternity.
Is it not a solemn and a fearful case, that the thing which most concerns
us—which is to die—has neither trial, experience, nor remedy? We have but one
life on earth, for which no previous existence can prepare us. We imprint our
history as we write it action by action—but a bad life may be mended, through
God’s rich grace, so far at least, as to prevent its disastrous consequences—by
a holy death. But for a bad death, that is an impenitent and unbelieving death,
there can be no remedy. The seal of eternity is set upon that. As the tree
leans, so it falls; as it falls, so it lies; as it lies, so it rots. As our life
leaves us, so death generally finds us; as death leaves us, so judgment finds
us; and as judgment leaves us, so eternity will find us. Since, then, eternity
depends upon death, death upon life, and life upon a brittle thread which at any
moment may be snapped by accident, or cut through by sudden disease; let us all
take up, with far more intelligence, seriousness and earnestness, than he did
who first uttered it, the prayer of the hireling prophet, and say, "Let me die
the death of the righteous, and let my latter end be like his."

I now turn to the very striking contrast presented in the passage which stands
at the head of this section. Both the wicked and the righteous die. Even for the
latter, there is no road to immortality around the grave—but only through it. No
translation by chariots of fire is granted to them. They must be conformed to
their Lord, not only in his life—but in his death. They must die in order that
his power might be displayed in sustaining them in the prospect of dissolution,
and in their glorious resurrection. His victory over Satan, who had the power of
death, will thus be rendered more illustrious by the triumphant resurrection of
the saints. But how different the death of the saint and the sinner. The wicked
is driven away in his wickedness. He would like to live—but he cannot. He does
not want to die—but he must. He does not go away willingly—but is driven away.
He is not led out—but is forced out. His hands grasp the earth, he clings to
it—and with a wrench is forced to loosen his tenacious hold. Yes, he is dragged
out of life, as a criminal—from his home to a place of execution. Cases have
occurred in which hell seemed to have begun this side of eternity. The sinner
has sometimes been tortured on the rack of his own horrified imagination, before
he was slain by the sword of Divine justice. Blair, in his poem entitled "The
Grave," has strikingly portrayed this:

"How shocking must your summons be, O Death! To him that is at ease in his
possessions; Who, counting on long years of pleasure here, Is quite unfurnished
for that world to come. In that dread moment, how the frantic soul Raves round
the wall of her clay tenement, Runs to each avenue and shrieks for help— But
shrieks in vain! ’How wistfully she looks On all she’s leaving, now no longer
hers.’ A little longer, yet a little longer, Oh, might she stay, to wash away
her stains, And fit her for her passage—Mournful sight! Her very eyes weep
blood—and every groan She heaves is big with horror—but the foe, Like a staunch
murderer, steady to his purpose, Pursues her close through every lane of life,
Nor misses once the track—but presses on; Until, forced at last to the
tremendous verge, At once she sinks to everlasting ruin. Surely, it is a serious
thing to die!"

Still we must admit that this is not always the case. Even wicked men sometimes
die with apathy, petrified into stones by a stoical or atheistical philosophy,
"there are no bands in their death, and their strength is firm." While others go
still further, and through the power of ignorance and self-deception have a
false peace. They may, and do sometimes, die like lambs—but only to wake with
the rage, and fury, and misery of wounded snakes. Their case has been set forth
in the section that speaks of the hope of the hypocrite. But I now turn with
delight to the bright and beautiful contrast, "The righteous has hope in his
death." This is one of the few passages in the Old Testament which refer to a
future state. "A splendid testimony of the knowledge of the Old Testament
believers of a future life. The wicked in his calamity, is agitated with the
greatest terror. He knows not where to turn. But the godly, in this last evil,
has no fear, he knows to whom to flee, and where he is going. He dies in God’s
grace, and in an assured confidence of the salvation of his soul, and of the
glorious resurrection of the body." That same hope which sustained the Christian
under the afflictions, and purified him amid the temptations and corruptions of
life, follows him to the sorrows of death, and the pains of the grave. The same
grand and glorious object which had excited his desires and raised his
expectations in life, appears still more glorious as it is now near at hand. He
rests upon the same foundation, and Christ is still his hope. He may be able,
thankfully and even triumphantly, to say, with the apostle, "I have fought a
good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith; henceforth there
is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord the righteous Judge
shall bestow upon me in that day." He does not leave the Savior’s righteousness
to trust his own. The labors, the sacrifices, the holy doings of a whole life,
spent in the service of God—add nothing to the entireness and strength of his
dependence upon Christ.

Never, no never, do the sins of his life appear more sinful, nor his
righteousness more defective and worthless, to the believer, than when he is
dying. Never does he appear less meritorious, less worthy—than when he views his
character, his conduct, himself—in the light of an opening eternity. It is then,
that with a deeper humiliation than ever, he cries, "God be merciful to me a
sinner." It is then, that he strips off with a holy indignation the last rag and
tatter of self-righteousness, and wraps himself more closely in the robe of
Christ’s righteousness. And he does hope. Yes. Even the near prospect of his
naked soul standing in the immediate presence of a holy God, and with a clear
view of all his past sins—does not deprive him of his hope. "I can die," he
says; "I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded he is able to keep that
which I have committed to him until that day."

Then, when all other hopes are extinguished, this remains. The worldling’s
expectations all die, not only with him—but before him. He sees one after
another failing him. As regards his health, he struggles long against the
evidence of increasing decay, and approaching death; until at length the last
possibility of recovery vanishes, and he sullenly says, "Well, I feel I must
die." In that sentiment is included the failure of all other expectations—his
flattering prospects in life, his incipient prosperity, his cherished
connections—all fade before his eye like some beautiful vision vanishing in thin
air—and he has nothing left. Even the Christian is subject to all this; he too,
sees every earthly hope about to expire in death. Yes—but as these stars of the
night pale before him, they are lost in the blaze of the rising sin. His earthly
expectations dissolve in the bright illumination of heaven’s eternal day which
already dawns upon his soul. To the question, "What do I have left—when wife,
children, home, fortune, prospects, are taken from me?" he exultingly exclaims,
"heaven and immortality!" This makes him willing to go. He dies by his own
consent. It is a glad surrender—not a forcible ejection. It is a voluntary
departure—not an unwilling separation. The Christian mariner weighs anchor, sets
the sails, catches the breeze, turns the helm and prow of his vessel towards the
shore of eternity, and sails with an abundant entrance into the haven of eternal
rest. He is not driven in, as by the force of the tempest, against his will, and
half a wreck. He can take death by his cold hand without a shudder, and bid him
welcome. "I can smile at death," said a dying saint, "because my Savior smiles
on me." He finds it a solemn thing to die, to go from world to world, to plunge
into eternity, to meet God face to face—but he can do it with composure, and, in
many cases, with triumph. He descends to the dark valley with the triumphant
challenge, "O death, where is your sting? O grave, where is your victory?
Rejoice not against me, O my enemy, for though I fall, I shall arise; and
however unworthy, I shall live and reign through our Lord Jesus Christ."

It is not an uncommon case for those whose hope was feeble all through life, to
have it increased and strengthened in their dying moments. The hands that have
hung down—have then been lifted up. The knees that were ever feeble—have been
then strengthened. The harp, so often unstrung and hung upon the willows, has
then been taken down, tuned afresh, and struck to the swan-like song of the
dying saint, whose lips, until then, had uttered only strains of doubt and fear.
It is marvelous to see in how many cases the timid and desponding have become
bold, confident, and rejoicing in the very face of the last enemy, and under his
uplifted arm, brandishing the fatal dart—which for anything they knew, would the
next hour pierce them through. What an encouragement to the living, to
anticipate that they shall be enabled to hope in death.

Go forward, you fearful believer, there is nothing so terrible to a Christian in
death, as your perturbed imagination leads you to suppose. Like every other
evil, death diminishes in appearance as you approach it. The Sun of
Righteousness often shines vertically over the valley of death. The "excellent
glory" sends out its beams into that gloomy pass, to allure the traveler onward.
The lights are seen in the windows of his Father’s house, and Christ will send
out the ministering angels to convoy you to his presence; and, more than this—he
himself will come to meet you. He has told you so. Believe him. Expect him. He
says, "Fear not, I am with you." Respond to the gracious promise, and say, "I
will fear no evil, though I walk through the valley, not only of the shadow of
death—but the valley of death itself, if you are with me." But is there no need
of admonition, admonition, and rebuke, to many professing Christians on this
subject? Is there not a "sinful love of life" to be overcome, and an equally
"sinful dread of death"? Is there not a practical denial of their hope of
immortality in the dread with which many, yes, most, look on to the hour of
dissolution? Do not infidels and worldlings, with cutting irony, sometimes
reproach us, and tell us that we do not believe in heaven, or we would be more
willing to go to it. We belie our professions of faith and hope, and should have
less love of life and fear of death. "If we believed," they say, "as you do, we
would be impatient to die." We deserve the rebuke, and let us profit by it. How
forcibly does John Howe expostulate with us, in reference to this unwillingness
to die, in the last chapter of his transcendently glorious work, entitled "The
Blessedness of the Righteous," a work which as a whole is one of the most
sublime treatises in the English or any other language. And how earnestly does
Baxter follow up the same subject in the words with which I will close this
section.

"What was it that rejoiced you all your life, in your prayers, and sufferings,
and labors? Was it not the hope of heaven? And was heaven the spring and motive
of your obedience, and the comfort of your life? And yet will you pass into it
with heaviness? And shall your approaches to it be your sorrows? Did you pray
for that which you would not have? Have you labored for it, and denied yourself
the pleasures of the world for it—and now are you afraid to enter in? Fear not,
poor soul! Your Lord is there; your husband, and your head, and life is there,
you have more there, a thousand-fold more, than you have here. Here you must
leave poor mourning friends, that languish in their own infirmities, and
troubled you as well as comforted you while you were with them—and that are
hastening after you, and will shortly overtake you. And there you shall find the
souls of all the blessed saints that have lived since the creation until this
age. There all are unclothed of the rags of their mortality, and have laid by
their frailties with their flesh—and are made up of holiness, and prepared for
joy, and will be suitable companions for you in your joys.

"Why should you be afraid to go the way that all the saints have gone before
you? Where there is one on earth, how many are there in heaven? And one of them
is worth many of us. Are you better than Noah, and Abraham, and David? than
Peter, and Paul, and all the saints? Or do you not love their names, and would
you not be with them? Are you hesitant to leave your friends on earth? and have
you not far better and more friends in heaven? Why then are you not as hesitant
to stay apart from them? Suppose that I, and such as I, were the friends that
you are hesitant to leave; what if we had died long before you? If it be our
company that you love, you should then be willing to die, that you may be with
us. And if so, why then should you not be more willing to die, and be with
Christ, and all his holy ones, that are so much more excellent than we? Would
you have our company? Go, then, willingly, to that place where you shall have it
to everlasting; and be not so hesitant to go from here, where neither you nor we
can stay. Had you rather travel with us, than dwell here with us? And rather
here suffer with us, than reign in heaven with Christ and us?

"Oh! what a brutish thing is flesh! What an unreasonable thing is unbelief!
Shall we believe, and fly from the end of our belief? Shall we hope, and be
hesitant to enjoy our hopes? Shall we desire and pray, and be afraid of
attaining our desires, and lest our prayer should be heard? Shall we spend our
lives in labor and travel, and be afraid of coming to our journey’s end? Do you
love life—or do you not? If not, why are you afraid of death? If you do, why
then are you hesitant to pass into everlasting life? You know there is no hope
of immortality on earth. Hence you must pass, whether you will or not, as all
your fathers have done before you. It is therefore in heaven, or nowhere, that
endless life is to be had. If you can live here forever, do. Hope for it, if any
have done so before you. Go to some man of a thousand years old, and ask him how
he made shift to draw out his life so long. But if you know that every man walks
here in a vain show, and that his life is a shadow, a dream, a vapor—and that
all these things shall be dissolved, and the fashion of them passes away—is it
not more reasonable that we should set our hearts on the place where there is
hope of our continuance, than where there is none? And where we must live
forever, than where we must be but for so short a time?

"Alas! poor darkened, troubled soul! Is the presence of Christ less desirable in
your eyes than the presence of such sinful worms as we, whom you are hesitant to
part with? Is it more grievous to you to be absent from us—than from your Lord?
Is it more grievous to you to be absent from earth—than from heaven? Is it more
grievous to you to be absent from sinners—than from blessed saints? Is it more
grievous to you to be absent from trouble and frailty—than from glory? Have you
anything here that you shall desire in heaven? Alas, that we should thus draw
back from happiness, and follow Christ so heavily and sadly into life! But all
this is owing to the enemies that now molest our peace. Indwelling sin, and a
flattering world, and a brutish flesh, and interposing death—are our
discouragements that drive us back. But all these enemies shall shortly be
overcome!

"Fear not death, then, let it do its worst. It can give you but one deadly grasp
that shall kill itself, and prove your life. It is as the wasp that leaves its
sting behind, and can sting no more. It shall but snuff the candle of your life,
and make it shine brighter when it seems to be put out. It is but an undressing,
and a gentle sleep. That which you could not here attain by all our preaching,
and all your prayers, and cares, and pains—you shall speedily attain by the help
of death. It is but the messenger of your gracious Lord, and calls you to him—to
the place that he has prepared for you!"


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  CHAPTER 62: 04.19.     THE NECESSITY AND MEANS OF STRENG
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THE NECESSITY AND MEANS OF STRENGTHENING HOPE A. The NECESSITY of Having Hope
Strengthened.

Whatever in us is good, and yet imperfect, should be made better—for in nothing
can we pretend to perfection; and whatever is good and weak should be
strengthened. Who will say his hope is so lively as not to need quickening, so
vigorous as not to need strengthening? It is lamentable to look abroad upon
professors of religion, and see how low their expectations are of heaven
above—how few affections they have there. But how much more lamentable is it to
look in and see how low our own hopes are. Let any Christian glance back through
a week, and as far as he can recollect, calculate how many times, with what
length of time, and with what earnestness of feeling—he has thought of heaven
and eternity. Let him call to recollection his troubles, and think how little
consolation he has derived from the prospect of everlasting glory. Let him
remember his general conduct, and ask how little of resistance of evil tempers
and strong temptation he has maintained by the anticipation of the perfect
purity of heaven. Let him think of his enjoyment, and inquire how much of it has
really arisen from the idea he is going on to life eternal. He will be
astonished to find how little this Christian grace has had to do with the
formation of his character, the guidance of his conduct, and the supply of his
felicity. He will be humbled to discover his amazing shortcomings in this one
branch of Christian duty. No one knows how prevalent is his earthly-mindedness
until he exercises this introspection and retrospection. When we consider what
heaven is, it might be expected that a day could no more pass, with those who
believe and expect it, without some lively anticipation of it, than a monarch
could forget for the same time the near approach of the ceremonial of his
coronation. An eternal state of infinite enjoyment ever at hand, and believed to
be at hand—and yet that sublime incomprehensible glory so hidden behind thick
clouds of ’the petty cares of this world’, as to be scarcely seen or thought of
for days, perhaps weeks, together—at least with any seriousness and power! O
Christian, do you not need to have your flagging desires quickened?—Your languid
expectations stimulated? Do you not need to have your earthliness subdued, and
to become in thought, feeling, and action, more like the candidate for, and
expectant of—a crown of life and glory. For shame, for shame, to have heaven
opening its glories above; yes, and eternity spreading out its ages before
you—and yet have so few thoughts and feelings in reference to that wondrous
state. Professing to believe it to be a reality, and yet treating it as if it
were some oriental fable—some mere fantasy of unreal felicity and honor.

You need to have your hope strengthened for yourselves. You are perhaps deeply
and heavily afflicted—and need support and consolation. How would you be
sustained and comforted—if your eye and your heart were in heaven. The prospect
of eternal glory, believed and expected, would lift you above your troubles into
the sunshine of holy joy! All God’s waves and billows might roll over you—but
you would not be drowned; your vessel would float upon the wave, and rise upon
the crest of the billow, and with her anchor well cast, would ride out the
storm. Have you not often had to say, "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why
are then disturbed within me?" And as you need a stronger hope for your
consolation, so you equally need it for your sanctification. Why has temptation
such power over you? Why is your holiness so imperfect? Why are your corruptions
so strong? Why do you make no more progress in the Christian life? Why all this?
I tell you again, because your hope is low. Increase hope—and you will increase
your holiness. You will grow in grace—if you will grow in heavenliness. I would
sound it over a lukewarm professor, over a lukewarm church, over a lukewarm
Christendom, "You are feeble in prayer, in righteousness, in watchfulness, in
diligence, in everything else—because you are negligent in hope!" Christian,
would you have been vanquished in that conflict; would you have succumbed to
that temptation; would you have yielded to that foe—had the eye of your soul
been fixed at the time on the excellent glory? And it should be a matter of
consideration with you, that as you need this grace now, so you know not how
much greater need you may yet stand in need of hope—for its supporting and
sanctifying powers. It is not wise, I know, nor good, to anticipate afflictions,
and by painful forebodings to go out and meet troubles half-way. Our kind and
merciful Lord has forbidden this—but it is prudent to recollect that such things
may happen to us, and it is well to be prepared for them. The mariner does not
torment himself beforehand with the dread of storms—but he prepares for them. A
weak hope is an poor preparation for heavy trials—and we ought not to have a
strong hope to seek, when we need it to use. We should not have to make the
anchor when the storm rages. It is a blessed thing, when both sore troubles and
fierce temptations find us rejoicing with strong consolation in hope of the
glory of God. Neither will do us much harm then. But how sad to be overtaken
with dangerous tempests and a weak anchor. And as there is need that your hope
should be strengthened on your own account, so also is it for the sake of
others. You have influence upon them, and they upon you. One lively spiritual
Christian will enkindle a flame of sacred love in others. Warmth is diffusive,
and so is cold—hence the lukewarm as well as the lively tend to make others like
themselves. Few examples have more power than that of a believer going on his
way rejoicing. His song, as he soars to heaven, like that of the lark—attracts
attention and gives delight. And then how important is it to have your hope
strengthened, and its joy increased, for the sake of the worldly-minded around
you who are strangers to true religion. If they see the professor of religion as
earthly as themselves, as soon cast down in trouble, no more intent upon
spiritual discipline for an immortal state than themselves; if they see no
sparkle of joy in your eye, hear no note of praise upon your tongue, observe no
stamp of heaven on your character and conduct; if eternal life appears to have
no more reality in you than it has in them; if you are as little drawn towards
its glories as they are; if it has no more power to support and comfort you than
it has to comfort them—what will their conclusion be—but that it is all a ’mere
empty profession’? But on the other hand, what an effect would be produced, if
all who profess true religion were to be seen ever enjoying and feasting on the
anticipated pleasures of immortality. So firm in the faith, so strong in the
desire, and so confident in the expectations of eternal glory—as to be preserved
holy by it amid surrounding corruption, cheerful under the pressure of
affliction, resolute by it against fiercest temptations—and thus to make it
apparent that they have a mighty and blessed something which the worldly do not
possess. Did professors live up to their duty and privileges; did they appear to
consider heaven as a grand reality; were they seen with the rays of the hidden
glory irradiating their countenances, and sparkling in their tears, what an
effect would be produced.

"O Christians, show the unbelieving world, by your rejoicing, how they are
mistaken in their choice. Be ashamed that an empty drunkard, and one that must
be forever a firebrand in hell—should live a more joyful life than you. O, do
not so wrong your Lord, your faith, your endless joys—as to walk in heaviness,
and cast away the joy of the Lord, which is your strength. Does it become a
companion of angels, a member of Christ, a child of God, an heir of heaven—to be
grieved at every petty cross, and to lay by all the sense of his felicity,
because some trifle of the world falls cross to his desires. Is it befitting for
one that must be everlastingly as full of joy as the sun is of light—to live in
such a self-troubling, drooping state, as to disgrace true religion, and
frighten away the ungodly from the doors of grace—that by your joyful lives
might be induced to enter? For the Lord’s sake, Christians, and for your own
sake, and in pity to the ungodly—yield not to the tempter that would trouble
you, when he cannot devour you.

"Is God your Father, and Christ your Savior, and the Spirit your Sanctifier, and
heaven your home? O, Christians, make conscience then of this command, ’Rejoice
that your names are written in heaven!’ Did you but know how God approves such
rejoicing, and how much it pleases him above your pining sorrow, and how it
strengthens the soul, and sweetens duty, and eases suffering, and honors true
religion, and encourages others, and how suitable it is to gospel grace, and to
your high relation and ends, and how much better it seems to subdue the very
sins that trouble you, than your fruitless, self-weakening complainings do—I
say, did you well consider all these things, it would sure revive your drooping
spirits!" (Richard Baxter) Who then can doubt the necessity of having hope
strengthened. Let us now go on to consider the MEANS of strengthening it. Let
the reader here pause for a moment, and lift up his heart to God in prayer for
the ability to understand these means and the disposition to adopt them, and a
blessing upon the perusal of what follows.

B. The MEANS of Having Hope Strengthened.

1. There must be a real, earnest, intelligent DESIRE for Christian hope. We
shall seek nothing without wishing to possess it, and our efforts will be in
exact proportion to our desires. And do we not desire it, if indeed we are real
Christians, and are already partakers of the pledge of our heavenly inheritance?
Can anything be more desirable in itself? Think what it means, this hope, so
great, so glorious, so well founded, so sublime in its object, so purifying, so
consoling, so beatifying—in its influence! Christian, give loose to your desire,
foster your most intense longings after it. Can you be satisfied with those
faint wishes, those languid expectations you now possess? Must you not say,
"Dear Lord, shall I always live, at this poor dying rate?" Do you not feel
ashamed to think of the lukewarm and heartless manner in which you are treating
such a subject, as the heaven of the eternal God? Is heaven worth so little that
you can be satisfied with a few mere probabilities and maybes, that you may
reach it? Were you to lose a pin from your dress, or a button from your coat,
and one should come and tell you he had found it, you would care nothing whether
the thing were true or not. But if your life or fortune were in peril, and one
should come and inform you it was probable that they were all safe, how you
would long to have your belief that this blessed news was true—confirmed and
made more strong. And will you not intensely desire to have your expectation of
heaven strengthened?

2. With this connect a determination that you will LIVE after a different
fashion. Recollect, this grace, like every other—is a duty as well as a
privilege. "We desire that every one of you do show the same diligence to the
full assurance of hope unto the end." Observe, the apostle speaks of a full
assurance, and speaks of it in the way of command; and a command delivered not
only to a few more eminent Christians—but to all. It is every one’s duty. And he
speaks of it as if it were within every one’s reach. What is matter of
duty—should be matter of determination. You must rouse yourself, professor, to
this great work, and resolve to do it. Resolve by an intelligent, deliberate,
and firm purpose—to be a more heavenly-minded man. Come under the bond of your
own promise to God, to act as one may be expected to do, whose citizenship is in
heaven.

3. There must be a more habitual, devout, and prayerful perusal and study of the
WORD OF GOD. Let the reader mark each and all of the words I have here used.
This reading of the Scripture must be habitual—not only occasional; the exercise
of every day—and not merely of the Sabbath-day. It must be done devoutly—with a
mind solemn, serious, and reverential—recollecting that the Bible is God’s
silent, but impressive voice—and not lightly, carelessly, and perfunctorily. If
it be devoutly done, it will also be prayerfully done. We should not only open
the Bible ourselves—but ask God to open our eyes that we might behold wondrous
things out of his law. And then the Scripture must be studied as well as
perused. There must be an anxious desire to penetrate its meaning. We must use
it as we would a direction given to us to regain our lost health or property,
the writing of which was in some places a little illegible, and the meaning of
which was a little obscure. How we would pore over such a document. How minutely
we would examine it. How anxiously we would peruse it. We would not trust to
anybody’s eyes, however we might ask their assistance—but would read for
ourselves. So let us search the Scriptures, for this is the way to have our
desire and expectations strengthened.

There is a passage on this subject which well deserves our attention—"For
whatever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we,
through patience and comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." Romans 15:4.
The apostle had just quoted from the sixty-ninth Psalm an expression which
referred to the coming Messiah. The Gentile churches were in danger of regarding
these holy writings as relating, if not exclusively, yet chiefly, to the
Jews—and referring to a state of things which had passed away. To correct this
mistake, he says that the Old Testament Scriptures were written for Christians
as well as for Jews. These were the inspired writings which Timothy had known
from a child as able to make men wise unto salvation, and which are now
"profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in
righteousness." 2 Timothy 3:16. This stamps a value and an importance upon the
Old Testament, in opposition to modern tendencies to disparage the writings of
Moses and the prophets. But what I now wish to show by the quotation is the
importance, in order to the maintenance of heavenly-mindedness, of a devout
study of the Word of God, for the apostle says that "we through patience and
comfort of the Scriptures might have hope." To have hope must here mean not to
obtain it in the first instance, for that is done by faith, and not by
patience—but to hold it fast, as the word often signifies. So of the other
expression, "comfort," the consolations of the gospel do not originate our
desire and expectation of heaven—but they sweetly and wonderfully sustain them.
("The religion of the Old Testament is essentially the same, as well as from the
same Divine source, with that of the gospel—its forms alone being temporary, and
its doctrines eternally true. The Christian Church is historically and vitally
one with the Jewish Church (the outward form of voluntary local societies being
substituted for that of a national and political body); Christianity is in fact
Judaism developed and perfected, freed from its national trammels, and laying
aside its gorgeous robes of symbolism, and addressing itself no longer to a
portion of mankind—but to the whole race. And therefore, we maintain that you
cannot get rid of the Old Testament without cutting away the roots of the New.")
The important lesson then taught by this passage, as well as by very many
others, is that the vitality of the soul is maintained, and all the roots of
piety strengthened, by the devout use of the Scriptures. The Bible is, if I may
change the metaphor, the medicine that cures a sickly state of the soul; the
elixir that stimulates a flagging one; and the food that nourishes a feeble one.
We know nothing about the future object of our supreme desire—but what we get
from the Bible. To produce this expectation, to sustain it, to strengthen it, is
one great design of the divine record. No wonder then that people’s desires and
expectations of heaven are so low, and the prevalence of earthliness so great;
that professors complain of their doubts and fears, their small consolation and
their meager joy; that heaven is little more than a name, and eternal glory only
a thing to be heard of in sermons—but not realized in their experience—while the
Bible is a neglected book!

Nothing can be a substitute for the habitual, devout, and prayerful perusal and
study of the Word of God—neither sabbaths, sermons, nor sacraments; neither
hymns nor good books; in addition to all these, it is the Bible that must
sustain and invigorate the spiritual life. This is not only the unadulterated
milk for newborn babes—but the strong meat for those who are of full age. A
professor who is to any great extent a stranger to his Bible must be but a
feeble, though he may be a sincere, Christian. The crumbs of Scripture which are
contained in "Daily Portions," furnish but a scanty morsel of the bread of life,
altogether undeserving their designation—a portion.

Why is the life of the church in this age so feeble? Why are spirituality of
mind, and heavenliness of affection so low? Why have we such a race of
worldly-minded professors? Why? The private reading and study of the Scriptures
are sadly neglected. Men are strangers to their Bibles. The Bible was never more
widely circulated—but at the same time, never by great numbers of professors
less devoutly read. Where are now the men and the women to whom the Bible is a
book of daily study and delight in the closet—to whom its words are "sweeter
than honey or the honeycomb, and more desired than their necessary food?" The
magazine, the review, and the newspaper, and the last new novel or tale, have so
far pushed out the Bible, that what they hear on the Sabbath day read from the
pulpit, or the chapter at family prayer, if perhaps family prayer be kept up, is
all the converse multitudes of the members of our churches have with the Word of
God. No wonder that they have to sing that doleful hymn—

"Long have I sat beneath the sound Of your salvation, Lord, But still how weak
my faith is found, And knowledge of your word.

"How cold and feeble is my love, How negligent my fear; How low my hopes of
heaven above, How few affections there!"

4. If we would have our hope strengthened, we must have our FAITH strengthened,
for faith is to hope—as cause to effect. We may desire a good thing even where
we have no ground to believe it—but we cannot expect it if we do not believe it.
We have made this clear in an earlier part of this treatise—but because of its
importance and the prevailing ignorance in reference to it, I dwell upon it to
reiteration. Let us, therefore, if we would raise higher the superstructure of
our hopes—proportionably strengthen our faith, which is the basis on which they
rest. If we present the prayer, "Lord, increase our hope," we must precede it by
that other petition, "Lord, increase our faith."

Let anyone watch the operations of his own mind, and he will soon see how
intimately these two graces are connected. Let him observe how, when a future
good object is before him, his desires are influenced and his expectations are
raised just in proportion as he believes that it may be his. When at first his
belief is very feeble, he has but a languid desire and a faint expectation. But
as his convictions of the reality of the object deepen, and his persuasions
strengthen that it is within his reach—his anticipations brighten that he shall
possess and enjoy it. We must seek then to have our faith in Christ made more
intelligent and more firm. We should make ourselves acquainted with the
historical and internal evidences of Christianity, especially those of miracles,
prophecy, the resurrection of Christ, the history of the Jews, the power and
victories of the gospel itself against opposition; and especially the
experimental evidence, or its divine might over our own souls in converting,
sanctifying, and sustaining them. The expectation of eternal life is so grand,
so lofty, and so immense; the prospect is so sublime, that we should be
thoroughly well-grounded in all the proofs that it is not the baseless fabric of
an imaginary vision. The faith of very many professors is little more than a
traditional one. They can, if asked, give no reason for the hope that is in
them. This is not as it should be—God has not left himself without a witness, in
the word he has given us. He has given us his signature, in the word of his
grace, and it is both a disrespect to him, as well as a disparagement to our own
reason—to disregard the evidences of Christianity as a divine revelation.

How satisfactory and delightful is it to see the New Jerusalem, the Paradise of
God, the Heavenly City, with its foundations of precious stones, its streets of
gold, its gates of pearl—standing out before us in all the light of Christian
evidence. It is the conviction of its truth and reality, that quickens our
desires, and enlarges our expectations. "No, no!" says the intelligent believer,
who is in the pursuit and expectation of glory, honor, immortality, and eternal
life, "I am not following cunningly devised fables; I am not gazing at, and
chasing, a brilliant meteor of deception and delusion. I cannot be deceived. I
have evidence not to be resisted, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and the
Savior of the world, who has abolished death, and brought life and immortality
to light by the gospel. I feel that in the belief of this gospel my feet are
standing, not upon a quicksand or a morass—but upon a rock!" "Being justified by
faith, I have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, and rejoice in hope
of the glory of God; and, knowing in whom I have believed, I am persuaded he is
able to keep that which I have committed to him until that day." From that faith
as a natural consequence, hope must spring up.

5. Connected with this is the too much-neglected duty of MEDITATION. "And this
is a very great cause," says Jeremy Taylor, "of the dryness and expiration of
men’s devotion, because our souls are so little refreshed with the waters and
dews of meditation. We draw our water from standing pools, which never are
filled but with sudden showers, and therefore we are so often dry; whereas, if
we would draw water from the fountains of our Savior, and derive them through
the channels of diligent and prudent meditation, our devotion would be a
continual current, and safe against the barrenness of continual droughts." In
this busy age men say they have no leisure time for this sacred duty of
meditation. They should rather say they have no inclination. The world is ever
encroaching upon the time of devotion—stealing away first the morning season,
then the evening, and it is to be feared in many cases, a part of the Sabbath.
There was a time when the professing Christian would have thought his soul
robbed of its treasure, if he could not be alone with God and his Bible in his
closet, in "the sweet hour of devotion." If no other time could be commanded for
thoughtful reflection, how many of these hours of each Sabbath might be employed
for this, which are now spent in idleness over the table or round the fire.
Ought there not to be times when every Christian should not only pray—but think,
meditate, and contemplate? when he should look up, look in, look back, look
forward? Can our souls be in a good condition, if we never, or rarely, practice
this duty? Is it possible our hope can be strengthened without it? And in order
to this invigoration, what should be the object of our contemplation? I
answer—the heavenly state. Of course all divine subjects should be matters of
devout thought—God, Christ, Salvation, Providence—indeed the whole range of
divine truth in the Bible. But to inflame our desires after heaven, and to
quicken our expectations of it, heaven itself should be the subject of
meditation. Does the traveler, away from home, and going to it, need to be
admonished to meditate upon his house, his wife, his family? Does the heir of a
title and a large possession need to be exhorted to meditate upon his coming
fortune? Yet the Christian, who is the heir of God and glory, can scarcely be
induced to give an hour, at any time, to think of the heaven to which he is
going. Oh, amazing insensibility! Humiliating earthly-mindedness! Professor,
blush over your stupidity, and determine to give more time to the consideration
of your glorious and eternal destiny. Now and then select, and devoutly read,
all the passages of Scripture which speak of heaven, especially 1 Corinthians
15:1-58; 2 Corinthians 5:1-4; 1 Thessalonians 4:1-18; 1 Peter 1:1-7; 2 Peter
3:1-18; Revelation 4:1-11, Revelation 5:1-14, Revelation 7:1-17, Revelation
11:1-19, Revelation 12:1-17. To this telescope apply the eye of faith, and look
up into heaven; bring its glory nearer, and endeavor to realize its stupendous
felicities. And as another means of increasing your desire after heaven,
meditate also upon your own state, and the real condition of the globe on which
you dwell. Enkindle, raise, and strengthen your longing after heaven, by a deep
sense of the various, numerous, and complicated evils of earth. Think of
yourselves—your ignorance, corruption, and sorrow; your distrust, unbelief, and
waywardness; your anxious cares, foreboding fears, and distressing perplexities;
your privations, losses, and disappointments; your personal and relative
afflictions; your wearisome labor and ceaseless toil—and should not the
experience of these things make you desire that better world, where all this
will be removed forever? Is not this the way to improve your present
circumstances—by making them the means of lifting you up, and helping you on to
heaven? This is to gather grapes from thorns, and figs from thistles. In the
same way let the condition of the world, without, around, and before
you—invigorate your expectations, and increase your desires of heaven. I will
admit that the face of nature is lovely, and that we live in a beautiful world.
Yes—we are surrounded with fascinations, where "only man is vile." But behind
and beneath that veil of material splendor, what a mass of moral corruption lies
half manifested and half concealed. Earth is inhabited by a population of which,
until subdued by divine grace, every one is an enemy and a rebel against God.
Think of the loathsome crimes of idolatry; the delusions of Mohammedanism; the
stubborn unbelief of Judaism; the corruptions of Popery; the blasphemies of
infidelity; the bloody wars; the cruel oppressions of slavery; the tyranny of
despots; the conspiracies of traitors; the filthy adulteries; the horrid
murders; the multitudes to whom the apostle’s awful description in the first
chapter of the Romans will apply.

Then add to these crimes, the various and complicated forms of human
wretchedness that are to be found on earth—the inconceivable horrors of famine,
pestilence, and earthquake; the hundreds of loathsome and agonizing diseases and
accidents to which the human frame is subject; the rigors of poverty; the hearts
bruised, broken, crushed by ingratitude, marital infidelity, filial
disobedience, disappointed hopes, defeated schemes. Nor is this all—our world is
the domain of death; the slaughterhouse of the saints; the territory of Satan;
and at times, apparently the very suburbs of hell. Such is this world—a valley
of tears, where "the whole creation groans and travails in pain together until
now." What a black and dreadful contrast to heaven. Surely, surely, there is
infinitely more than enough, in the contemplation of such a picture—to wean us
from earth, and lead us to set our hope upon heaven. Nor must we stop here; for
if we come from the world to the church, we shall find abundant matter to cause
us to lift up our longing eyes to the state—"Where all the air is love—and all
the region peace."

"I am," said a Christian man, "almost as weary of the church as I am of the
world." No wonder. Look at her broken unity; her blighted peace; her enfeebled
strength; her tarnished beauty; her prostrate honors. See her various sects—and
their bitter sectarianism. Hear her angry controversies, and her strife. Notice
the ignorance or indolence, the inconsistencies and falls of many of her
ministers, and the imperfections of all her members. How partially sanctified,
how wrinkled and how blemished does she appear! Alas, how unlike the beautiful
vision of the New Jerusalem in the apocalypse, coming down out of heaven, having
the glory of God, and adorned as a bride prepared for her husband. Is there not
sufficient in all this, did we but consider it, to quicken our desires and
strengthen our expectations of the church triumphant—when she shall be seen
without blemish, wrinkle, spot, or any such thing?

6. Gurnall pithily and pointedly says, "Would you have your hope strong, keep
your CONSCIENCE clear. You can not defile your conscience—without weakening your
hope. Living godly in this present world, and looking for the blessed hope, are
both conjoined. A soul wholly void of godliness must needs be destitute of all
true hope; and the godly person that is loose and careless in his holy walking,
will soon find his hope languishing. All sin is ’anguish food’; it disposes the
soul which tampers with it, to trembling fears, and shakings of heart." This is
as important and impressive as it is quaint and true. The man who can expect
heaven, and sin at the same time, is in the last stage of delusion. Even the
little imperfections of the real Christian—which are not incompatible with a
state of grace—if not resisted, mortified, and removed—will rise like a mist to
dim the luster of heaven’s glorious sun. While presumptuous, deliberate
transgression will throw it into total eclipse. Keep conscience then, as clear
as the noontide.

7. The way to have hope strengthened, is to keep it in constant EXERCISE. Bodily
strength is thus increased by exercise. Indolence and inactivity, when indulged
as a habit, and not used for repose after labor, and for recovering from
fatigue—enervates the muscular frame—while well regulated exertion invigorates
the body. So it is with the soul, both as regards its natural faculties and
moral powers. One act prompts another; and ’acts repeated’ settle into habits.
The way to have stronger faith, is to exercise what we have; and so it is with
regard to its sister grace, hope. Christian, if it is desirable to have a
stronger desire, a more confident expectation, of eternal glory—let not what you
have lie dormant in your soul, like some old recipe for health in your drawer,
which is never read and never used—but call it out into real continuous
application.

Never, if possible, let a day pass without at least one steady glance at the
heavenly skies. Let not earth have such a complete ascendancy over your soul,
over all its thoughts, feelings, desires, and pursuits—as to engross one whole
day to itself. Even in the hurry, and eagerness, and heat of the battle of life,
and the absorbing power of business—endeavor to lower the feverish pulse of
worldliness by a frequent thought of glory to come. Even when pressed with
secular anxieties, and panting in the career of commercial competition, dart one
thought into eternity; catch one glimpse of those treasures laid up in heaven.
Go forth each day to your industry with a devout recollection that you are also
to trade for another world, to lay up treasures in heaven, and are to grow
wealthy in the unsearchable riches of Christ. When tempted to dishonest or
dishonorable gain, think of heaven. When disappointed, think of heaven. When
called to suffer losses, think of heaven. When injured and oppressed, think of
heaven. And then, when returning from the strife of competition to your own
habitation, weary and worn with labor, dispirited and discouraged by an
unsuccessful day, and this to be followed by a restless and sleepless night,
think of heaven. In all other troubles and perplexities adopt this same
practice. Yes, and in your more prosperous seasons do the same. You should make
this practice run like a golden thread through all your states of mind, in all
the varying circumstances of life, uniting all in one holy habit of
heavenly-mindedness, until by daily exercise, to hope becomes as natural and as
easy to you as to live.

8. But all this is not enough without believing, earnest, and persevering
PRAYER. This is the way the apostle took to help the saints of his day to obtain
this precious blessing. "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as
you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy
Spirit." He who would have a life of hope, must live a life of prayer. If hope
is the ladder by which we ascend to heaven, prayer is the ladder by which we
ascend to hope. In conversion God implants the seed of this grace of hope; in
sanctification he causes it to grow; in full assurance he brings it out in all
its full-blown beauty and fragrance. It is all his work. But then he will not do
it, if he is not asked to do it. We cannot have it without his grace, and he
will not give his grace but in answer to our prayers. In a way of sovereign
mercy he often bestows the grace of conversion unasked, and is thus "found by
those who sought him not." But in subsequent blessings, the Lord seems very much
to regulate his conduct by the rule of bestowing his richest favors where he
knows they are most coveted, and will be most prized. The principle whence
divine blessings flow, is free, unmerited benignity. But in the mode of
bestowing its fruits, it is worthy of the Supreme Ruler to consult his majesty,
by withholding a copious supply until he has excited in the heart a profound
estimation of his gifts. Now surely the least consideration must convince you of
the infinite desirableness of such a blessing as a living, vigorous, and assured
expectation of heaven—and of the imperative necessity of intensely earnest
prayer to obtain it.

Oh! Christian, let there be ineffable longings after this great blessing;
stretch every sail, launch forth into the deep of the divine perfections and
promises, by importunate prayer—that you may be brought into this holy, happy,
expecting frame. Give yourself to prayer—feel as if you must have the blessing,
and that God alone can give it. Set your heart upon it. Be contented with
nothing less than a full assurance. Use a reverent freedom, a humble familiarity
with God. Tell him that you cannot do without this confident expectation of
things hoped for; that it is not only heaven hereafter, you want—but hope of it
now. And let it be the prayer of faith, as well as of fervency. This is one of
the blessings he has promised to give. It must accord with his will to bestow
it. He will answer if you have faith, the very letter of your request. It honors
him to bestow it; it honors him to be asked to bestow it, and it honors him to
expect it. He loves to see his children rejoicing in hope, and he loves to hear
them ask to be enabled to do so. By all the comfort this would bring to
yourselves; by all the credit it would give to true religion; by all the
beneficial influence it would exert on others—I entreat you to seek after a
livelier expectation of a glorious immortality, and to cultivate a spirit of
fervent and believing prayer, in order to obtain it. And now, pious reader, in
finishing this volume, I would say that if it shall contribute in any degree to
the removal of your doubts and fears, and to the strengthening of your faith and
hope—my end in writing it will be accomplished. However much it is below its
great theme, and even vastly mightier minds than mine, must of necessity fall
below such a subject, it may, by God’s blessing, be of some little service to
the members of God’s chosen and redeemed family. No one can be more sensible
than I am of its defects, and had another pen undertaken the task, mine would
not have been taken up. Still, with all its defects, I can adopt the language of
the pious Bishop Horne, in the preface to his Exposition of the Psalms, "Could
the author flatter himself that any one would take half the pleasure in reading
the following exposition, which he has taken in writing it, he would not fear
the loss of his labor. Happier hours than those which have been spent on these
meditations on the songs of Zion, he never expects to see in this world. Very
pleasantly did they pass, and moved swiftly and smoothly along; for when thus
engaged, he counted no time. They are gone—but have left a relish and a
fragrance upon the mind, and the remembrance is sweet." The end, at any rate, of
my own life approaches—and so indeed does the end of the world—when hope with
all mankind will cease, consummated with some in eternal fruition, and
terminating with others in everlasting despair. Oh, what scenes of ineffable
glory or of inconceivable horror are before us. How all that is glorious or
terrible on earth, dwindles into insignificance before the scenes of eternity,
which by the pen of inspiration are presented to our view. The advent of Christ,
when he shall come a second time without sin unto salvation, is the grand object
to which believers, under the Christian dispensation, should be looking forward,
with a still livelier and more joyful expectation, than did the pious Israelites
under Judaism, to his coming in the flesh.

"O Christians, let us wake up from our slumbers and rise from our prostration in
the dust—and live as ever waiting for that hour. What matter though we be poor,
slighted, slandered, forgotten, moving in the shadows of this world—so long as
we attain unto a glorious resurrection. O most glad hour, when it shall dawn
towards the first day of the everlasting week; when there shall be a making
ready in the heavens above and in the earth beneath; when legions of angels
shall gather round the Sun of Righteousness, and all orders and hosts of heaven
shall know that the time for ’the manifestation of the sons of God’ has come!
What joy shall there be at that hour in the world unseen! and what a thrill, as
of a penetrating light, shall run through the dust where the saints are
sleeping! When was there such a day-spring since the time when ’God said, let
there be light, and there was light’? He shall come, and all his shining ones;
ten thousand times ten thousand, whose countenances are ’like lightning,’ and
their ’clothing white as snow;’ all the heavenly court, angels, archangels,
cherubim and seraphim—clad in unimaginable splendors; and the righteous shall
arise from the grave, and the earth shall be lightened with their glory—they
shall stretch forth their hands to meet Him, and bow themselves before the
brightness of His coming. O blessed hour, after all the sorrows, and wrongs, and
falsehoods, and darkness, and burdens of life—to see Him face to face; to be
made sinless; to shine with an exceeding strength—to be as the light, in which
there ’is no darkness at all!’ May this be our hope, our chief toil, our almost
only prayer!"


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  CHAPTER 63: 05.00. CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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CHRISTIAN PROGRESS John Angell James, 1853

Introduction NECESSITY of Christian Progress NATURE of Christian Progress MEANS
of Christian Progress MISTAKES concerning Christian Progress HINDRANCES to
Christian Progress MOTIVES to Christian Progress ENCOURAGEMENTS to Christian
Progress


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  CHAPTER 64: 05.00I.    INTRODUCTION
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INTRODUCTION The description of the people for whose benefit this work is
intended, and to whom it is addressed–

"If there be one word," says a writer in one of the ablest of our evangelical
periodicals, "which more than another now commands the ear of the British
public, that word is—’PROGRESS.’ It has fallen like a spark among the
inflammable mass of the working and thinking classes. This mighty watchword of
the newest and most potential eras has run through the mighty chain of hearts
and minds with electric intensity." This is true of science, of literature, of
arts, of commerce, of law, and of politics. It would be strange if religion,
considered as a practical system, could be justly exempted from this law of
progress. We are to expect no new revelations, and cannot look for any new
doctrines to be brought out of the old ones. That these Christian doctrines
however have yet to develop themselves still more clearly; that new treasures
are to be brought out of this inexhaustible mine, and a new power to be exerted
by this mighty instrument for the world’s regeneration—who can doubt?

It is not, however, of the progress of theological science, as it is found in
the systems of divines, and as it shall clear away the clouds and mists which
hang over men’s minds, and hide the glory of the great luminary of the world,
that I now write; but of the progress of truth in the individual mind, and
heart, and character; of that blessed growth in spiritual life which is to be
the supreme object of everyone who has passed through a state of religious
solicitude; and which carries forward the soul of "the Anxious Inquirer" to the
condition of the established believer. This work takes it for granted that the
reader has decided, in his own opinion at any rate, in the great business of
religion, to look for salvation by faith in Christ alone. It is not my design
now to urge him to surrender at the foot of the cross to God. I consider this as
done. He has also become the professor of the faith he has exercised. His
difficulties have been removed, his mistakes rectified, and seeing his only way
of salvation to be by trust in Christ, he is now to be led forward in the ways
of the Lord.

It is the confession and lamentation of the horticulturist that many of the most
promising and beautiful blossoms of his trees do not result in fruit—and that
many which do, never ripen to maturity. Precisely similar cases occur to the
spiritual husbandmen in the garden of the Lord. Where is the faithful minister
of Jesus Christ who has not often in sadness and disappointment, to adopt the
language, and to sympathize in the feeling of surprise, grief, and
disappointment, of the Apostle Paul, where he said, "I am afraid of you, lest I
have bestowed upon you labor in vain. My little children, of whom I travail in
birth again until Christ be formed in you, I desire to be present with you now,
and to change my voice; for I stand in doubt of you. You did run well; who
hindered you, that you should not obey the truth?"—Galatians 4:11, Galatians
4:19-20; Galatians 5:7. How often, when through God’s grace, as we fondly
hoped—we had led the penitent to the cross, directed the eye of faith to the
Lamb of God, assisted him in the exercise of "a good hope," and left him in
possession of a quiet consciousness of the great change—have we seen him leave
his "first love," and instead of advancing into a fuller development of
Christian character, relinquishing the solicitude he once possessed, and sinking
into a state of lukewarm indifference! Of the multitudes who are confirmed in
the Church of England, after the greatest pains have been taken, even by the
most spiritual and devoted clergymen, to prepare them for that rite, how many
are there who disappoint their hopes! They had given to them much sound
instruction. They had explained to them the nature of spiritual religion as
distinguished from that which is ceremonial, and laid open to them the only
ground of a sinner’s hope of acceptance with God in the atonement of Christ.
They had read the Scriptures to them and explained their contents. They had
prayed with them and for them; and as the result of all this, had seen their
pupils brought to concern, to conviction, to profession. They have welcomed them
to the table of the Lord and rejoiced over them for a while with great joy as
the fruit of their ministry, and the rich and blessed reward of their labors.
Alas, the delight was premature, for all this goodness was "as the morning cloud
and early dew which passes away."

Similar disappointments attend the ministers of Christ of other denominations.
By their godly labors, religious concern is awakened in the minds of some of
their hearers. Conviction of sin by the law is produced, and the great question
with its accompanying solicitude is awakened, "What shall I do to be saved?" The
anxious inquirer is instructed in the way of salvation. He professes to
understand and receive "the truth as it is in Jesus." His solicitude subsides
into peace. He becomes a professor of religion; is received into the fellowship
of the church; and considers himself, and is considered by others, a Christian.
It might be expected that he would now grow in grace—that he would be
continually advancing in the divine life; that his attainments would be always
increasing; that progression would be the law of his new existence. But is not
the contrary to this, the case with many of those who make a profession? Do they
look like learners in the school of Christ who are making great proficiency in
divine knowledge? On the contrary, does it not appear too evident that in many
cases, the young disciple instead of remaining the anxious believer and
progressive Christian, has subsided into the careless professor? As if their
solicitude was to make a profession, not to maintain it; to be called a
Christian, rather than be one; to enjoy church privileges, rather than to feel
individual obligations.

It might seem strange that when a false profession is so awfully denounced, and
the Lord’s table guarded as if by the flaming sword of a cherub in that woe
pronounced by the apostle upon the unworthy receiver, anyone should be so rash
and reckless as to expose his soul to the perilous stroke of that fearful
weapon. Yet many do, by partaking in an unfit state of mind of the sacred
supper.

It will perhaps be asked, Why do the ministers of religion permit it? We reply,
Can they search the heart? Can they discern between the sincere and the
self-deceived communicant? Is not a credible profession a sufficient warrant to
any minister to admit a person to the communion? In an age like ours, when
evangelical religion bears no stigma, and its professors are called to endure no
persecution, it is natural to suppose that some, yes many, will say, "Lord,
Lord"—who do not obey the will of our Father in heaven. Many there are who
sufficiently feel the obligation to make a profession of religion—who have no
just sense of what it includes and requires. The persuasion of friends, and
their own wish to be associated with them, may also lead to this; and thus the
conscience is appeased, a sense of religious decorum indulged, and godly
relatives pleased—while at the same time, there is no adequate idea of the
obligation which the assumption of the Christian name involves. With many people
there seems to be a radical mistake as to the true nature of the Christian life.
It is regarded too much in the light of a mere profession rather than a
practice—a state, rather than a habit—a fixed point, rather than a continuous
line—a resting place, rather than a field of labor—the goal, rather than the
starting point. A profession has been looked forward to with great concern, as a
something which is to fix and determine the character—to give a religious
status—to secure certain blessings. The mind in prospect is perhaps somewhat
serious, agitated, and solicitous. The table of the Lord is approached, and
perhaps with some solemnity and self-surrender. And it is now regarded as a
thing done. The Christian character is formed. The mind is at ease. The inward
consciousness is, "I am a professor." In too many cases, solicitude is from that
hour at an end. Instead of a trembling concern to be all that they profess—to do
all that is required of them—to develop all that is contained in the Christian
character—to supply all the defects in knowledge, faith, and holiness, which
might be supposed to exist in one so young in religion—to demonstrate to all
around the reality, by the growth, of their piety—they settle down at ease upon
their profession, and in many cases are never more in earnest, and in not a few,
less so than when they first began to seek the Lord. But without supposing such
extreme cases as these of self-satisfaction in the first stages of religion;
there are others of a somewhat more hopeful character, but which still require
the cautions, directions, and admonitions of such a work as this. And to put
these more clearly before the reader, I may observe there are four successive
states of mind in reference to religion—

1. absolute indifference;

2. concern, attended by conviction of sin;

3. faith in Christ, bringing relief to the burdened and troubled conscience;

4. the work of faith in its continuous influence on the Christian life and
character.

I am supposing now the case of one who has reached the third stage. His
indifference has given place to solicitude, his solicitude has obtained relief
by faith. The young disciple has discovered, to his delight, the way of pardon,
peace, and eternal life, through the atonement of Christ. There he is, lying
down in peace at the foot of the cross. The oppressive burden of his guilt is
lost. The tormenting fear which it produced has been cast out by love. He is now
ready to say—

Sweet the moments, rich in blessing, Which before the cross I spend, Life, and
health, and peace possessing, From the sinner’s dying Friend.

"Here I’ll sit, with transport viewing Mercy’s streams, in streams of blood,
Precious drops my soul bedewing, Plead and claim my peace with God."

All this is well, good, happy—but it is not enough! Even he, this relieved soul,
is but too apt to forget that he has "not yet attained, and is not yet perfect."
Even he is but too apt to consider that the great transition from a state of
nature to a state of grace; that the mighty bound from impenitence to
conversion; that the wondrous translation from the power of darkness to the
kingdom of God’s dear Son—is, if not all that is required, yet all that need
make him concerned. He is so taken up with his justification through faith, and
the peace with God which it brings with it, that his sanctification is too
little thought of. He is ready to say of Calvary what Peter did of Tabor, "It is
good to be here," not considering how much yet remains to be done.

It is indeed a blessed thing to be pardoned—who can deny it? To look up and see
the brow of Deity not clothed with a frown, but radiant with a smile—to see the
heavens all serene and cloudless, and to feel the bright beams of mercy
diffusing warmth as well as light over the conscience. "Oh, the blessedness of
the man whose transgressions are forgiven, whose sin is covered, to whom the
Lord imputes not iniquity." But this is not the whole of religion—nor the end of
it—nor the highest glory of it. There is the purpose for which this very pardon
is granted to be accomplished. There is all the subsequent work of grace, of
which this is only the commencement, to be carried on and completed.

O, you blessed penitent—you relieved anxious inquirer—you rejoicing young
believer—I would not dash the cup of consolation from your lips, nor drop into
it wormwood and gall. I would not affirm your joy is premature. On the contrary,
I would say, "Rejoice in the Lord! Rejoice in the Lord always!" "The joy of the
Lord is your strength." "Go on your way rejoicing." Yes, but then, Go on. Carry
your joy with you, even joy and peace in believing. But still I say, Go on.
Onwards! Onwards, is the Christian’s watchword. How blessed a night was it to
the Children of Israel when they celebrated the paschal feast on the eve of
their flight from the house of bondage. Yes, but they were to eat it with their
swords in their hands, and with other emblems of progress. How jubilant were
their feelings when they found themselves safe on the farther shore of the Red
Sea. Yes, but there they were not to linger, but must move onwards. All the
length of the wilderness stretched between them and the promised land.
Privations were to be endured; enemies to be encountered; difficulties to be
surmounted; and dangers to be escaped before they could set their foot on
Canaan! So is it with the Christian; his conversion is but his flight from
Egypt; and amid all the joy of his first faith and first love, he must be
reminded of the journey through the wilderness, and be prepared to make it. The
journey is in fact to the latter what it was to the former—the great test of
character. Of all those six hundred thousand who started so joyfully from Egypt
only two crossed the Jordan. All the rest found graves in the wilderness. Of
those who now seem so hopefully to set out for heaven, and make a good
profession before many witnesses, how many are satisfied with merely beginning
well. In them the Christian character is never developed. They make no progress.
Not going forward, they turn backwards. Instead of progress it is retrogression
with them. They are like evergreens transplanted in the spring, which for a
while look as vigorous and fresh as the other shrubs all around them; but they
send out no shoots, though retaining for a while their verdure. The gardener as
he looks upon the plant has his fears, and shakes his head; until as the season
advances, the signs of decay are but too apparent, and the leafless skeleton
proclaims the work of death. So is it with some who make a profession of
religion in youth. The design of this volume, then, will now be clearly seen,
and the people for whom it is intended be correctly understood. It is a sequel
to "The Anxious Inquirer after Salvation directed and encouraged," and takes up
the Christian pilgrim where that leaves him, and offers to guide him onward in
his perilous and eventful course. To change the illustration from the flight of
Israel out of Egypt—to that of Lot from Sodom, and to connect it with the former
work above alluded to, I might say that if the intent and effect of that little
work, in every case where it is successful, is to pluck the sinner from the
condemnation of the law, and thus to perform the office of the angel who brought
the patriarch out of the city doomed to destruction; the purpose of this is to
say to the rescued fugitive, "Escape for your life—look not behind you, neither
stay in all the plain—escape to the mountain lest you be consumed!"

ADDRESS TO THE READER

Before you proceed to read another page, pause, ponder, and examine. Solemnly,
as in the presence of God; seriously, as taking up the most momentous subject in
the universe; honestly, as wishing to know your real state, ask yourself the
question, "Am I stopping in a mere profession? Have not I hastily taken up the
Christian name without duly considering what it is to be a Christian? What
strictness and earnestness it implies; what obligations it imposes; what duties
it requires; and what progressive improvements it demands? Have I really studied
the Word of God to obtain a correct idea of the nature of religion? Of its
holiness, spirituality, heavenliness? Do I understand it to be a growing fitness
for, and a steady advance towards celestial glory? Have I not concluded I am a
Christian too hastily? Or, have I not settled down into a state of carelessness,
while I ought to be still in a state of anxiety and effort? Or, supposing I have
experienced a change, have I not taken up the idea that religion is a ’fixed
state’ rather than a progress?"

Reader, put these questions to yourself. Be honest. Wish, long, be intensely
anxious, to be right. Tremble to your very soul’s center at the idea of
self-deception on so momentous an affair. Before you read another chapter, put
down the volume, fall upon your knees and agonize in prayer, that the perusal
may be blessed to your soul. Take the book with you into your closet. Read it in
your most serious hours, in your greatest privacy, and in the most solemn
manner. I would recommend these and some such other directions for its perusal
as are found in "The Anxious Inquirer." In books for spiritual edification much
depends upon the manner in which they are read. If taken up carelessly and read
in a light mood, or in the company of others, they are likely to do little good.
The attention will not be fixed, nor the heart engaged, nor the conscience
awakened. You must be somewhere alone with God; where you can have leisure and
opportunity to commune with your own heart and with him; where you can pause,
reflect, and pray, unobserved by a single fellow-creature; where you can stop,
examine, meditate, and it may be, weep.

You must read this work, if you would get any good from it, in some such serious
manner as this. I have been very serious in writing it. It has lain with great
weight upon my spirit, and has been the subject of much earnest prayer to God. I
have seen much of the evils it is intended to remove, and felt much of the need
of some such work. And as every page has been written more or less in the spirit
and exercise of prayer—so I feel anxious that every page should be read in the
spirit of prayer. Offer, therefore, some such supplication as this–

"Father of mercies and God of all grace, since you have put it into the heart of
your servant to write this little work for my edification, grant me, through
Jesus Christ, my only Mediator and Advocate, the teaching and help of your Holy
Spirit, that I may derive spiritual advantage from the perusal of it. Rouse my
too dull and flagging soul to consider the importance of the subject. I give you
sincere and hearty thanks that you have awakened in me a deep concern about
salvation, and enabled me to look for the mercy of God, through Jesus Christ,
unto eternal life. But as the work of grace is only just begun in me, I
earnestly pray that I may be deeply impressed with the indispensable need of
progressive improvement. Make me desirous to grow in grace and may this book,
through your blessing, greatly conduce to that end. Help me to fix my attention
upon what I read; to understand what I attend to; to treasure up what I
understand in my memory; and to practice what I remember, so that I may have
cause to bless You that ever this work came into my hand. Thus, while I am
thankful for the instrument, yours shall be the glory, through our Lord Jesus
Christ, Amen."


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  CHAPTER 65: 05.01.     NECESSITY OF CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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NECESSITY of Christian Progress

All spiritual good things tend to improvement. A right principle must, from its
very nature, push outward and onward as long as there is in contact with it
anything that is wrong, for there is an expansive power in all truth and virtue.
It would be strange if this were not the case with true religion. It is with
goodness as with money, the possession augments the desire to possess more. So
that they who are contented with such a measure of piety as they already suppose
they possess, give fearful evidence that they have none. And this ought to sound
alarm at once in the ears of a very large number of people. "Is it true," they
should say, "that a self-satisfied condition is proof of little or no true
religion; that a quiet, easy, contented mind, without any concern to advance, is
an evidence that the soul is not in a good and safe state; then ought I not to
fear that I am deluding myself, since certainly I know very little about such a
solicitude as this? Have I not, since I made a profession, seemed to reach the
summit of my hopes, and settled down into a state of religious competency upon a
supposition that I am rich enough already?"

It may be well for the fears of some to be thus excited; and that they should
ask such questions about their real condition. An uninquisitive state of mind
cannot be a safe one. It is too momentous an affair to be treated in this "free
and easy" sort of manner. It would be far more rational for a young tradesman
just or lately started in life to be careless and questionless about his advance
or retrogression, than for a young Christian lately set out on the journey to
heaven. "Am I making progress?" should be his inquiry. Just for this
reason—Progress is the law of true religion. This appears —

First. From Scripture COMMANDS. We shall select only a few of the most
prominent. How impressive is such language as the following—"I pray that out of
his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your
inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray
that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with
all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of
Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge--that you may be filled
to the measure of all the fullness of God." Ephesians 3:16-19. "Then we will no
longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there
by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their
deceitful scheming. Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things
grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ. From him the whole body,
joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself
up in love, as each part does its work." Ephesians 4:14-16. Read also Php
1:9-11; Colossians 1:9-11, Hebrews 6:1-3; Hebrews 6:13. Hebrews 6:20-21; 1 Peter
2:1; 2 Peter 1:5; and especially 2 Peter 3:18—"Grow in grace, and in the
knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." May I request you to lay down
this volume, open your Bible, and read these passages, remembering that it is
God who speaks to you in every one of them, and commands you to go forward.

Secondly. Consider the scriptural ILLUSTRATIONS of the nature of true religion.
We take one first from the Old Testament, and a beautiful one it is—the rise and
progress of the SUN. "The path of the just is as the shining light, that shines
more and more unto the perfect day."—Proverbs 4:18. It is not the glimmer of the
glow-worm—nor the transient blaze of the meteor—nor the wasting ray of the
candle—but the grand luminary of heaven "coming out of his chamber and rejoicing
as a strong man to run a race." And a very beautiful sight it is, to see a soul
rising out of darkness, not stopping on the verge of the horizon, but ascending
higher and higher--not merely beginning its course and remaining amid fogs,
clouds, and mists--but shining brighter and brighter at every step with
increasing knowledge, faith, and love. But is this shining light the picture of
our path? There is no such command given as, "Sun, stand still," therefore it
rebukes a stationary profession. It is a rising and an advancing, not a
declining, sun--therefore it rebukes a backsliding state. There may be an
occasional cloud, or even in some cases, as of David and Peter, a temporary
eclipse. But when did the sun fail of carrying on its early dawn to a perfect
day? Be thankful then, for "the day of small things," despise it not. But be not
satisfied with it. True religion must be a shining and a progressive light.

Among these scriptural illustrations there is none more frequent or better known
than LIFE. It is scarcely necessary to quote passages, they are so numerous, and
so familiar. "He who believes has everlasting life." "By this we know we have
passed from death unto life." "He came that we might have life, and that we
might have it more abundantly." "Your life is hid with Christ in God." "When
Christ who is our life shall appear." True religion is a new, a spiritual, a
divine, a heavenly life--the life of God in the soul of man. Now it is the law
of all life to progress. It is so with vegetable and animal vitality, and it
must of necessity be so with that which is spiritual. Mark the new born
babe—there is a spark of life, always very feeble, sometimes scarcely
distinguishable from death. Yet there is life. The babe becomes a child, the
child a youth, the youth a man. Life is progressive, is not this, I say, the
selected, the frequent emblem of the Christian? In support of this illustration
of progress in true religion, we may refer to one of the passages already
quoted—"As new-born babes desire the sincere milk of the word that you may grow
thereby." Newly converted people are babes lately born, little infants, feeble
in everything that pertains to spiritual life--yet there is life. They are not
like still-born children, that cannot grow, but are quickened from a death of
sin to a life of righteousness. What is dead cannot grow; as what is perfect
does not need to grow. An unregenerated sinner can never grow in spiritual life.
He must first be made alive; and when he is alive he must grow. This constitutes
the difference between "living" in the Spirit, and "walking" in the Spirit.
There is first the principle of life, then its manifestation in activity. So
young Christians are very far from being what they are yet to be, even on earth;
as all Christians are very far from being what they are to be in heaven. The
child of God is born to grow as well as to live—and God, who has ordained the
growth, has provided for it in the milk of the word. The representation of
Leighton in his exquisitely beautiful exposition of this passage is so striking
that I shall introduce a long quotation from it, which no one will deem too
long—

"The whole estate and course of the Christian’s spiritual life here is called
their infancy, not only as opposed to the corruption and wickedness of their
previous state, but likewise as signifying the weakness and imperfection of it
at the best in this life, compared with the perfection of the life to come; for
the weakest beginnings of grace are by no means so far below the highest degree
of it possible in this life, as the highest degree falls short of the state of
glory—so that, if one measure of grace is called infancy in respect of another,
much more is all grace infancy in respect of glory. And sure as for duration,
the time of our present life is far less to eternity than the time of our
natural infancy is to the rest of our life; so that we may still be called but
new or lately born. Our best pace and strongest walking in obedience here, is
but the stepping of children when they begin to walk by being held by the hand,
in comparison of the perfect obedience in glory, the stately, graceful steps
with which, on the heights of Zion, we shall walk in the light of the Lord; when
‘we shall follow the Lamb wherever he goes.’ All our present knowledge, is but
the ignorance of infants, and all our expressions of God and of his praises, are
but as the first stammerings of children (which are, however, very pleasant both
to child and parent), in comparison of the knowledge we shall have of him
hereafter, ‘when we shall know as we are known;’ and of those praises we shall
offer him, when that new song shall be taught us, ‘which is sung before the
throne, and before the four living creatures, and which none can learn but those
who are redeemed from the earth.’—Revelation 14:3. A child has in it a
reasonable soul; and yet, by the indisposedness of the body, it is so bound up,
that its difference from the beasts, and its partaking of a rational nature, is
not so apparent as afterwards; and thus the spiritual life that is from above
infused into a Christian, though it does act and work in some degree, yet it is
so clogged with natural corruption still remaining in him, that the excellency
of it is much clouded and obscured; but in the life to come it shall have
nothing at all encumbering and indisposing it. And this is the Apostle Paul’s
doctrine—‘For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is
perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a
child I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but
when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see, through a
glass, darkly; but then face to face—now I know in part; but then shall I know
even as I am known.’—1 Corinthians 13:9-12.

"And this is the wonder of divine grace, that brings so small beginnings to that
height of perfection that we are not able to conceive of that a little spark of
true grace, that is not only indiscernible to others, but often to the Christian
himself--should yet be the beginning of that condition wherein they shall shine
brighter than the sun in the skies. The difference is great in our natural life,
in some persons especially, that they who in infancy were so feeble, and wrapped
up like others in swaddling clothes, yet afterwards come to excel in wisdom and
in the knowledge of the sciences, to be commanders of great armies, or to be
kings; but the distance is far greater, and more admirable, between the weakness
of these new-born babes, the small beginnings of grace, and their after
perfection, that fullness of knowledge that we look for, and that crown of
immortality that all are born to who are born of God.

"But as in the faces and actions of some children, characters and presages of
their after greatness have appeared, as a singular beauty in Moses’ countenance,
as they write of him, and as Cyrus was made king among the shepherd’s children,
with whom he was brought up, so also certainly in these children of God there be
some characters and evidences that they are born for heaven by their new birth.
That holiness and meekness, that patience and faith, that shine in the actions
and sufferings of the saints, are characters of their Father’s image, and show
their high original, and foretell their glory to come; such a glory as does not
only surpass the world’s thoughts, but the thoughts of the children of God
themselves. ‘It does not yet appear what we shall be; but we know that, when He
shall appear, we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.’—1 John 3:2."

We now, in prosecution of the scriptural illustrations of religious progress,
take up the idea of a SPRING. "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty
again, but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the
water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal
life." John 4:13-14. Permit me to direct your fixed attention to the beauties of
this passage. While the pleasures of the world, "the lust of the flesh, the
pride of life, and the lust of the eyes," are but as drops which inflame rather
than allay the thirst of the natural man after true happiness, or at best leave
him unsatisfied; the grace of Christ in renewing and sanctifying the soul, leads
it to the true fountain of bliss, and compels it in the fullness of
satisfaction, to exclaim, "I have found it; I have found it." And this source of
happiness is not far off, for it is within and not outside its possessor. "It
shall be in him a well of water." He carries the spring about with him. Hence it
is said, "The good man shall be satisfied from himself." And it is also
abundant, an unfailing source, a constant supply, a well ever accessible and
never dry. But it is not merely the satisfying but progressive nature of true
religion which is here represented. It is a beautiful image—not a stagnant pool,
nor a well so deep as that its waters cannot rise; but a spring whose sparkling
and gushing ebullitions shall be ever bubbling up, and forming an ever-living
fountain that flows at all seasons of the year, in heat or cold, and in all the
circumstances of the weather, whether foul or fair, wet or dry. True religion
always lives, always shows its beauties--and amid all changes of external
circumstances. But this inward spring of grace in the soul is represented as
rising higher and higher, and never stopping until it reaches eternal life;
swelling into a stream which refreshes others in its course to eternity, making
all around it fruitful and pleasant; just like a river flowing through a country
which irrigates the land and covers it on every hand with fertility and beauty.

I ask– Is this descriptive of your religion? Do you know anything of this
indwelling of the Spirit of God? This inward supply from a divine source of
sanctity and bliss? These holy ebullitions of sanctified feeling? This rising up
of an inward principle to a divine source, an element of life issuing from the
parent fountain, and returning to its primitive source—a something godlike,
which aspires to God—heavenly, which aspires to heaven—eternal, which rests not
until it has reached the eternal? What of all this is in you? Is it mystery, or
plainness to you? It is immensely important that we give ourselves time and
leisure to enquire into this matter. The next illustration I borrow is that
which we find in our Lord’s teaching about the SEED. "The earth brings forth
fruit of herself—first the blade, then the ear, after that the full corn in the
ear."—Mark 4:28. This language is rather a description of the growth of grace in
the heart, than, like the grain of mustard seed, the advancement of the kingdom
of Christ in the world. It is an allusion to one of the beautiful developments
and slow processes of nature in regard to vegetable life. How gradually does the
principle of vitality evolve, its first germinating being imperceptible to the
most observant eye. Yet from that invisible germ, there grows up at length the
strong and verdant blade. Then the ear gently and gradually comes forth from its
envelopments. This under the genial influence of the heavens and the fertilizing
power of the earth swells into the plump, ripe corn, ready for the reaper’s
sickle.

Instructive and beautiful emblem of that more precious seed of the Word of God
which is sown in the heart of man by God’s regenerating work! It is at first
small, feeble, tender, scarcely perceptible, like time first shoots of the grain
in the earth. It may be the early impressions upon a child’s mind listening to
his mother’s gentle admonition and familiar instruction. Or it may be a
conviction lodged in the soul under some melting or alarming sermon. Or it may
be a serious reflection occasioned by some painful visitation of Providence. God
has various methods of entering by his grace into the soul of the unconverted
sinner. The seed may lie long like the grain in the earth before any sign of
vegetable life is perceptible; yet all this while the vital process may be going
on. At length it rises above the ground and growth is visible, which continues
until the result already described is apparent. But it needs the greatest
watchfulness and care, for it is peculiarly susceptible of injury and
destruction. The last illustration I take up is that of a RACE. "The most
splendid solemnities which ancient history has transmitted to us were the
Olympic Games. Historians, orators, and poets abound with references to them,
and their most sublime imagery is borrowed from these renowned exercises. The
games were solemnized every fifth year by an infinite concourse of people from
almost all parts of the world. They were observed with the greatest pomp and
magnificence; many victims were slain in honor of the heathen deities, and was
was a scene of universal festivity and joy. We find that the most formidable and
opulent sovereigns of those times were competitors for the Olympic crown. Even
the lords of Imperial Rome and emperors of the world entered their names among
the candidates, and contended for the envied palm; judging their felicity
completed and the career of all human glory and greatness happily terminated if
they could but interweave the Olympic garland with the laurels they had
purchased in the fields of war."

Alas for the littleness of earthly ambition and the narrow range of human
vanity. It is not to be wondered at that an institute so celebrated should be
employed by the sacred writers to illustrate the sublimer objects which they had
to propose, and to stimulate the desires which they were anxious to awaken.
Hence the impressive language of the apostle—"Remember that in a race everyone
runs, but only one person gets the prize. You also must run in such a way that
you will win. All athletes practice strict self-control. They do it to win a
prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize." 1 Corinthians
9:24-25 No subject could be more familiar than this to the minds of the
Corinthians, who were often spectators of similar games celebrated upon the
isthmus on which their city was situated, and hence denominated the Isthmian
Games. Among these games the foot race sustained a distinguished place. To this,
express allusion is made by the apostle in writing to the Hebrews, among whom
these national festivities had been introduced by Herod the Great. "Therefore
seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us
lay aside every weight, arid the sin which does so easily besets us, and let us
run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author
and finisher of our faith."—Hebrews 12:1-2.

Every expression in these two passages is allusive and instructive. The enrolled
competitor underwent for several months, like the men who engage in those
disgraceful feats, our prize fights--a rigid system of physical training. Hence
the expression, "He who strives for the mastery is temperate in all things." The
candidates were obliged to keep in the course marked out, and to observe all the
rules prescribed; wherefore it is said, "If a man strive for masteries yet is he
not crowned except he strive lawfully."—2 Timothy 2:5. The racers laid aside
their garments and ran nearly naked. Hence the exhortation—"Let us lay aside
every weight—(every unnecessary care, every lust both of the flesh and of the
mind) and the sin which does so easily beset us." The race was carried on amid
an immense crowd of spectators, hence the language—"We also are compassed about
with so great a cloud of witnesses." The prize was merely honorary, consisting
only of a chaplet of leaves, which withered before it was worn—hence it is said,
"They do it to obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incorruptible one." How
finely does this illustrate that sublime passage in the epistle to the
Philippians—"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been
made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took
hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But
one thing I do--Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I
press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward
in Christ Jesus." Php 3:12-14. Every term here employed refers to the ancient
foot race, and the whole passage beautifully represents the ardor which fired
the competitors when engaged in the contest.

Such, and so impressive, is the description given us by the Holy Spirit in the
Scriptures, of the nature of true religion; of the Christian life; and it is
sufficient to make all somewhat anxious about their own state and to reveal the
utter worthlessness and hollowness of the pretensions of many to the possession
of true piety. Does not this illustrative figure set forth more forcibly and
vividly than any mere language could do--that the Christian life is a state of
self-denial—intense desire—deep solicitude—of strenuous, unremitted, unwearied
action—and of constant progress?

How was the soul of the racer filled and fired with the hope of success? How
patiently were the necessary privations borne? How was every muscle strained and
the speed quickened to the uttermost, by the fear of defeat--and the prospect of
victory? Reader, whoever you are whose eye shall wander over these pages, pause,
I beseech you, and ponder this subject. This is the inspired description of true
religion, and must, therefore, be the correct one. Does your religion answer to
this? Know you anything of such solicitude for the salvation of your soul, such
labor to attain it, as are implied in this representation? Is your religion
really a race? Does your eye often gaze upon the crown of life, and your bosom
swell with the mighty aspiration after glory, honor, and immortality? Oh, do not
deceive yourself. Look at this, there is something more than mere profession
here! Something more than the easy and careless bearing of the Christian name
which many exhibit. But it is PROGRESS that the subject now leads us especially
to contemplate. The racer was not only in action, but in progress. It was with
him not merely bounding off with a vigorous start; nor exerting himself to the
uttermost of his strength for a part of the course; but a continual going
onwards. Hence the beautiful language of the apostle—"Forgetting the things that
are behind, and reaching forth unto those which are before." One who was running
in the ancient race would not stop to look back to see how much ground he had
run over, or which of his companions had fallen or lingered on the way. He would
keep his eye fixed on the goal and the prize, and strain every nerve to reach
them. If his attention were diverted for a single moment it might hinder his
speed and might be the means of his losing the crown. Onwards, onwards, was the
mighty impulse which stimulated him in his course. So was it with the apostle.
He fixed his eye intently on the prize, and allowed no past attainments as a
Christian, or success as a minister, to make him linger on the way. So must it
be with us. No measure of knowledge, of faith, or holiness, must satisfy us, but
we must be ever making advances in the divine life.

Thirdly. If anything more be necessary to convince us of the necessity of
progress, consider Scriptural REBUKES. How often did our Lord reprove his
disciples for the infantile feebleness of their faith; and with what just
severity did the apostle reproach the believing Hebrews for their lack of
progress. "When," said he, "for the time you ought to be teachers, you have need
that one teach you again which be the first principles of the oracles of God;
and have become such as have need of milk, and not of strong meat."—Hebrews
5:12. Could anything be more reproachful of their culpable negligence, their
shameful indolence, their voluntary backwardness in seeking after divine
knowledge? They were babes when they ought to have been, and might have been--of
full and matured strength. They were content with the very rudiments of
Christianity, the alphabet of true religion. It satisfied them just to have
light enough to grope after salvation, and to walk on in dim twilight. Alas!
alas! How many are like them. How many are content with the smallest elements of
knowledge and experience. Talk with them, observe them years after they have
made a profession of religion, and you will find them possessed of only the
crudest notions and the most unsettled feelings. They are no further on in the
divine life than they were—yes, they have gone backwards!

Read also the pungent rebukes of our Lord to the churches in the Apocalypse. He
thus addresses the church at Ephesus. "I know your deeds, your hard work and
your perseverance. I know that you cannot tolerate wicked men, that you have
tested those who claim to be apostles but are not, and have found them false.
You have persevered and have endured hardships for my name, and have not grown
weary." Revelation 2:2-3. How exalted a character! How rich a piety! How fine a
recommendation! Surely there is nothing here to condemn. Yes, there is! Mark
what follows. "Nevertheless, I have somewhat against you, because you have left
your first love." See that. Dwell upon it. No attainments, no eminence, can
compensate for a decline of "first love." Christ will allow no plea of
extenuation to be put in; much less any defense to be set up. Hence what
follows, "Remember, therefore, from whence you are fallen, and repent, and do
your first works; or else I will come unto you quickly, and will remove your
candlestick out of his place, except you repent." But perhaps it will be said,
all that Christ required in this case was that they should only recover lost
ground, return to their former state, and continue as they were. Ah, but what
must have been their first love, when their diminished affection was so great?
What must have been their first works, when their secondary ones were so signal?
And moreover the rebuke did not necessarily imply that they were to be satisfied
with even this. They had declined just because they had neglected to advance,
and it was therefore strongly implied that they must advance in order that they
might not again recede.

If these things do not prove the necessity of progress, it is hopeless to prove
anything. We should give to them their due weight and act under their influence.

ADDRESS TO THE READER

You have now learned from the Word of God, the necessity of progress? What think
you of it? Has it ever thus occurred to you before? Does it strike you now? Can
you deny or doubt this necessity? Can you be indifferent to it, or trifle with
it? Perhaps you have overlooked it. You have never entered into the subject; but
have had all your attention directed, and all your solicitude awakened to make a
good beginning, a public profession, a favorable start. But is this all that is
necessary? Does this answer to the description of true religion, as a race, a
spring, a growing child, or tree? Can you really satisfy yourself that your
religion is real if it is unattended with a conviction that it should be
progressive? Do, do study afresh, I beseech you, the representations given in
this chapter.

Ask yourself the one question, "Am I laying aside every weight and the sin that
does so easily besets me, and so running the race that is set before me, as to
obtain the prize of eternal glory?" Are you? Is there that intense desire after
the crown, that vigorous effort to obtain it, that eager hope to receive it,
which shall impel you onward with the speed of the ancient racer? Or, are you
convinced that it is not a faint endeavor, but a mighty conflict that must gain
eternal life? Are you saying to yourself, "I must forget the things that are
behind and press towards the mark for the prize of my high calling? I cannot be
satisfied to be always as I am. I pant to be holier." Again, I say, pause and
pray. Read no more until you have entered your closet, and have put up the
prayer of faith for a deeper conviction of the necessity of progress.


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  CHAPTER 66: 05.02.     NATURE OF CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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NATURE of Christian Progress

What is it to make progress in godliness? Progress is not only ’mere action’,
but a moving forward. A door turning upon its hinges is in a state of motion,
but it never advances. A chariot moving upon wheels is not only in action, but
goes onward. The conduct of some people in religion resembles the former—there
is action but no advancement—they move, but it is on hinges, not on wheels. They
go through, perhaps, even with regularity, the exercises of devotion, both
public and private. They may be mechanically exact and punctual, still they do
not go forward. There are two ways of setting forth the nature of Christian
progress–

1. The RETENTION and manifestation of piety in various situations. By
representing the young convert retaining his first views, feelings, and conduct
with consistency after his profession has been made, and then carrying them with
him into future life and all its various conditions, scenes, duties, and
relations. Life itself is progressive and ever-changing. Imagine the case of a
youth who receives his first religious impressions and assumes a religious
character while at home with his parents. To prepare for future life, he leaves
his father’s house either as an apprentice or a shopman. In too many cases, a
change of scene produces a change of character, and religion, under the
influence of the unfavorable circumstances in which he may now be placed, or by
the power of temptation, declines—if it is not altogether abandoned. But in the
case I am supposing, the youth holds fast his integrity, and amid irreligious
and scoffing companions, maintains his steadfastness and consistency. He bears
opposition and insult with firmness, fortitude, and meekness. Here is progress.
There may be no great increase of knowledge or of holiness, but what he had has
been exposed to hard trials and has surmounted them, and this itself is growth,
and great growth too. So of a daughter who remains at home—her profession may
have been assumed when very young, before her heart was susceptible of the
corrupting influence of the world. The time arrives when the child passes into
the girl and the girl into the young woman. In this transition, when she feels
the desire of companionship, when her society is courted, and she is invited to
parties and amusements—we often see sad instances of declension. Seriousness is
gone, and little else than a mere profession is left. But in the case of real
progress, the purpose to serve the Lord is unmoved, the resolve to come out from
the world and be separate is unshaken. There is the same earnestness,
seriousness, and decision as ever. Company, flattery, peer-pressure, produce no
alteration of conduct or character. There is a solicitude not how near she can
come to the world and yet not be of it; but how far she may recede from
it—without affected singularity, unnecessary precision, or a violation of the
courtesies of life. She is the same simple-minded Christian, the same decided
follower of the Lamb, amid the development of womanhood, as she was in her
teens. This is progress, great progress. To retain her first love amid this
change of circumstances is advance, because it has been put to a new test, and
has honorably passed the ordeal. A similar remark may be made in reference to
the influence of our religion on the different relations of life. When young
people, who have parents living, are converted to God—it is of course their duty
to let their religion influence them as children. True religion does not only
make us better towards God—but better towards man! And he who is really made
better towards God—will infallibly be made better towards man! If we are not
improved in our conduct towards our fellow-creatures—there is a moral certainty
we are not improved towards our Creator! There is progress when the great change
is proved—by people being made better husbands or wives; better parents or
children; better masters or servants. It is a beautiful growth of godliness,
when social excellence and all its blessed fruits are seen springing out of the
stem of piety. Oh, to see the prodigal son brought back by true religion to his
father’s arms and home; or the unkind husband won back by his piety, to the
woman whom he had oppressed and insulted; or the faithless servant, like
Onesimus, reclaimed by his conversion from dishonesty and injustice. Show me the
professing Christian whose social character is as unlovely after profession as
it was before, and though there may be an increase of knowledge and of some
other things connected with religion—there is no progress.

Then, when the youth arrives at manhood, and carries his true religion with him
also into business, and amid all its cares, temptations, and perplexities, holds
fast his personal godliness, and unites the Christian tradesman with the
Christian professor, letting his light so shine before men that they, seeing his
good works, glorify God, there is progress! For alas, alas, how many who while
in the capacity of a servant maintain a conscience void of offence both towards
God and man, and keep up a regard to the one thing needful—lose nearly all the
power of religion either as a principle or a taste, when plunged into the
anxieties and snares of trade. Have not many women, who, while young and
unmarried, and unencumbered with domestic cares, were earnest in piety—become
careless, lukewarm, and indifferent, when surrounded with the scenes and
occupied with the solicitudes of a wife, a mother, and a keeper of the home?
This, however, is not always the case, as our biography of godly women can amply
testify. It is a beautiful sight to behold the young wife and mother retaining
her attention to true religion in all its earnestness and spirituality—and thus
qualifying herself for her new situation by all the power of that godliness
which she gained in single life. Here is eminent progress.

Also, what VICISSITUDES affect us in this world! Some are raised to PROSPERITY
from low circumstances, and lose their religion little by little in the
ascension—until it is all gone by the time they reach the summit! Rarely has it
happened that men have not been the worse for prosperity; rarer still that they
have been the better for it. What an advance in godliness has he made, who
retains his decision, his earnestness, his spirituality, his humility—amid the
rising tide of wealth, and who is the same man in spirit after his success, as
he was before it. And so with ADVERSITY, to bear it with meek submission to the
will of God; to endure chastisement with all patience and joyfulness; to appear
cheerful amid surrounding gloom; hopeful amid desponding circumstances; happy in
God when there is nothing else to make us happy! He who does this has indeed
made great advances in the divine life. But perhaps what we have hitherto
considered does not so completely bring out the idea of progress as another
method of representation, since it is rather the progress of the Christian with
religion—than in it; the retention and manifestation of piety in various
situations—rather than the increase of piety itself. Still it is a necessary and
most important part of the subject. We now therefore take up this latter view of
the subject.

2. The INCREASE of piety itself. There ought to be a growth in everything that
constitutes personal godliness. And as all true religion is based on KNOWLEDGE,
there should be an increase of this. Defects here, as we have already shown,
were the occasion of the apostle’s rebuke to the Hebrews. The increase of
knowledge was much in the apostle’s prayers for the churches. Ephesians 1:17-23,
Ephesians 3:18-19; Php 1:9; Colossians 1:9. In all these passages, to which it
is hoped you will turn, you will see how earnest Paul was that his converts
should advance in knowledge. Apart from, or without this, there can be but slow
advances in anything else. This is clear from the apostle’s exhortation, "Grow
in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." Thus you see
growth in grace and growth in knowledge are inseparably connected. Light is
essentially necessary to natural vegetation; so it is to that which is
spiritual. Young converts are sometimes so taken up with religious feeling and
doing, as to forget the importance even in reference to these, of knowing. By a
growth in knowledge then, we mean an increasing understanding of the contents of
the Word of God, and of their true meaning—a real advance in acquaintance with
biblical truth. Not only an acquaintance with systems of religious opinion, but
with the design and meaning of the books, and chapters, and texts of
Scripture—an ever-growing disposition and ability to read the Sacred Word with
intelligence, discrimination, and self-application.

There are three or four matters which may be considered the very substance of
the Bible, and with which every Christian should make himself as familiar as his
time and circumstances will allow. The Person and work of our Lord Jesus Christ,
as God-man, Mediator; or "God in Christ reconciling the world to himself," is
the grand theme of the Bible. It was dimly shadowed forth under the Old
Testament, and is clearly revealed in the New. Christ is the alpha and omega of
Revelation. You cannot understand the Bible if you are ignorant of this. The
true and proper DIVINITY of Christ’s person is the cornerstone of Christian
doctrine. Compare Psalms 102:25-27, with Hebrews 1:10; Psalms 45:6, with Hebrews
1:8; Isaiah 6:1-13. with John 12:37-41; Isaiah 45:23-24, with Romans 14:9-11.
Read, also, Matthew 18:20; John 1:1, John 1:10-14; John 8:56-58; John 10:30;
John 14:8-10; John 17:5; John 20:28; Romans 9:5; Php 2:5-11; Colossians 1:16;
Colossians 2:9; 1 Timothy 3:16; Hebrews 1:1-14; 1 John 5:20; Revelation 1:1-20.
These are only a portion of the Scriptures that testify the true and proper
divinity of our Lord. Do give yourselves time and leisure to turn to them, to
study them, to treasure them up in your mind. But it is Christ as MEDIATOR, also
you are to consider, uniting in a way we cannot comprehend, the divine and human
nature in his one glorious person. As Mediator he died in the sinner’s stead as
his substitute, and by his death upon the cross made an atonement for the
sinner’s transgressions. How clearly, how gloriously, how unanswerably does the
doctrine of atonement shine forth in that wonderful passage, Romans 3:24-26.
There, atonement is declared to be the very end of Christ’s incarnation and
death. Three times, in the compass of two verses, is it declared, that the
demonstration of God’s justice is the end of Christ’s sufferings unto death. The
whole gospel scheme is a manifestation of mercy, in a way of righteousness. In
redemption God shows love to us in a way that eclipses neither the glory of his
character, his laws, nor his government. Understand well the design of Christ’s
death, of that mysterious economy of a vicarious sacrifice—that it was to
harmonize the salvation of the sinner with the honor of God—and this could only
be done by an atonement. At the same time understand well the doctrine of
ATONEMENT. This means that Jesus Christ having died in the place and stead of
guilty man, it is for the sake and out of regard to his death as the meritorious
consideration, that God pardons the sinner, and by which scheme of Divine wisdom
and mercy, the same purpose in regard to justice and to the maintenance of the
principles of moral government will be accomplished, as the punishment of the
sinner would have done. And it is in this view that we see the connection
between the divinity of Christ and the doctrine of atonement. The sacrifice of
one who was a mere man, or a creature however highly exalted, could not be as
clear a display of God’s public justice as the punishment of the whole multitude
of pardoned sinners would have been. There required a sacrifice of a very
peculiar nature. Here we have it, in Christ. He was truly and properly man, that
he might suffer and die, which God could not do; he was God, and thus the
sufferings of the manhood acquired from his divinity a character of infinite
merit and worth. For a proof of this doctrine we refer you to Isaiah 53:1-12. To
the whole Levitical law, as compared with the epistle to the Hebrews, especially
to Leviticus 16:1-34, compared with Hebrews 9:1-28, Hebrews 10:1-39. Read also
Matthew 20:28; Romans 5:9-21; 1 Corinthians 15:3; 2 Corinthians 5:21; 1 Peter
1:18, 1 Peter 1:20; 1 Peter 2:24; 1 John 4:10; Revelation 1:5. These Scriptures
are only a few of what might be selected to set forth the doctrine of the
atonement; a doctrine not only momentous as an article of faith, but infinitely
precious as a basis of hope.

Another subject which it is immensely important for a young Christian to
understand is God’s method of bestowing the blessings of salvation upon the
sinner—that is, the doctrine of JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. Who are the people that
will receive salvation, and what is the way in which they receive it? This has
been plainly set forth in the former treatise—mean "The Anxious Inquirer after
Salvation, Directed and Encouraged." By the doctrine of justification by faith,
we mean, that when a sinner is convinced of his transgression, is truly
penitent, and believes in the testimony of the gospel that "God so loved the
world that he gave his only begotten Son that whoever believes in him should not
perish, but have everlasting life," he is pardoned, received to the Divine
favor, and entitled to eternal life—not on account of his own sentiments,
feelings, actions, or anything of his own—but entirely for the sake of the blood
and righteousness of our Lord Jesus Christ, which are in such sense imputed to
him, that he receives the full benefit of them, as if they were his own!

Justification by faith is the answer to that momentous question, "How shall man
be just with God?" And the reply is, not by works of his own, but by faith in
the work of another, that is Christ. He must have a righteousness in which to
stand before a righteous and holy, as well as a merciful, God. He has no such
righteousness of his own. "Christ is the end of the law for righteousness unto
him who believes." "He is made unto him righteousness." This is
justification—the same in substance as pardon—with this difference—that the word
pardon simply expresses only the blessing we receive, while the word
justification includes the idea of the way in which it comes to us—that is, by
righteousness. There is also this difference, justification signifies our
entrance upon the state of pardon or adoption, and can take place but
once—pardon may be often repeated towards one who is in this condition of
acceptance.

It is of much consequence to a right understanding of divine truth, and to the
proper growth in knowledge and in grace, to observe and ever maintain the
distinction between justification and sanctification. The fall brought in two
evils upon man—guilt upon his conscience, whereby he lost God’s favor, became
loathsome in his sight, and subject to his wrath! The fall also brought
depravity into his nature, whereby he lost God’s image, and became earthly,
sensual, and devilish. To be restored to bliss, in other words to be saved, he
needs to have his guilt pardoned, and his nature renewed. This is provided for
in the gospel scheme of redemption. By the blood and righteousness of Christ,
our sins are pardoned; and by the work of the Holy Spirit our hearts are
renewed, our nature changed, and our lives sanctified. The work of the Spirit
begins in regeneration, and is carried on in progressive sanctification. The
difference, therefore, between justification and sanctification is very great
and obvious, and must ever be maintained in our views. Justification is the work
of Christ for us; sanctification the work of the Spirit in us—justification is
perfect at once; sanctification is progressive—justification is before
sanctification, and sanctification is the fruit of justification. Consequently
the evidence of our justification is in our sanctification. All the first joy
and peace of the sinner must come to him by justification—but his peace, joy,
and bliss as a pardoned believer must flow in great measure from his
sanctification. Justification is in order to sanctification, rather than
sanctification in order to justification. These remarks may seem to some to be
mere theological technicalities. But they are not so. They enter into the very
vitalities of personal godliness. For the study of the doctrine of
justification—and it ought to be a subject of study, deep study, and progressive
understanding, the following portions of Scripture should be devoutly perused–
Isaiah 43:1-28; Jeremiah 33:15-16; Romans 3:1-31, Romans 4:1-25, Romans 5:1-21,
Romans 10:1-21; 1 Corinthians 1:30-31; 2 Corinthians 5:21; Galatians 2:1-21,
Galatians 3:1-29, Galatians 4:1-31; Php 3:1-21.

These are the chief matters to be investigated in perusing the Word of God. Not
that the attention is to be exclusively confined to these subjects. Nothing in
the Bible is unworthy the attention of a Christian. The ancient and interesting
histories of the books of Moses, and the subsequent chronicles of the Jewish
nation; the lofty devotions of the Psalmist; the Proverbs of Solomon; and the
sublime and beautiful books of the Prophets—should also be studied; for "all
Scripture," and this expression refers to the Old Testament, "is given by
inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction,
for instruction in righteousness; that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly
furnished unto all good works."

It is not only, however, in the doctrinal or historical parts of the Word of God
that the young Christian is to increase his knowledge. In Scripture, there is no
knowledge which is purely academic—all, all is practical. Every part is "a
doctrine according to godliness." It is declared in the passage just quoted, to
be the design of the Bible, "that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly
furnished unto all good works." Truth is but a means to an end, and that end is
holiness. Every one of us ought to study our Bibles with that prayer upon our
lips, "Sanctify me by your truth; your word is truth." We should grow in our
knowledge of the character of God, that we may resemble it. We should grow in
the understanding of the law, that we might be conformed to it. We should grow
in the understanding of the example of Jesus, that we might be more like him.
There should be a conviction that we are not yet as perfect in what we should
be. A desire to know merely to know, is curiosity; but a desire to know in order
to do, is sanctity.

There ought, then, to be progress in knowledge. No Christian should be satisfied
with mere rudimentary understanding of Scriptural truths. And yet the great bulk
seek for nothing more. It is really humiliating and painful to preachers to find
how little, in the way of imparting knowledge, is effected by all their sermons.
No students seem satisfied with so little increase of ideas—as those who profess
to be in the school of Christ. Usefulness, happiness, and true piety are thus
hindered. And not only so, but true religion itself is stunted and starved, and
its luster diminished. And even they who do read and think, peruse only, or
chiefly—the works of men. Never was there an age when Bibles were more widely
circulated, and never an age when they were less read! Magazines, periodicals,
and books of all kinds have come in upon us like a flood, which in many cases
has almost swept away the Bible. After all, it is Bible truth from its own
source that is the ’concentrated nutriment’ of the divine life; and it will be
found that they are usually the strongest, healthiest, and most rapidly growing
of the children of God, who live most upon the sincere, that is, the pure and
"unadulterated" milk of the Word of God. The works of men are very useful in
their place when they lead us to the Word of God; but too many people allow
themselves to be kept away by them, from the fountains of pure truth. For the
growth of the church of God generally, it needs to be led back more to the
sacred Scriptures!

Decision of character must be strengthened. At first many a true Christian is a
little hesitating and halting. His opinions are fluctuating. His purposes are
irresolute. His steps are faltering. He is timid—afraid of the laughter of some,
and the frowns of others. He is fearful of being made the subject of
embarrassing remarks, and especially of critical and cynical remarks. He cannot
encounter reproach bravely. He is not yet bold enough to say, "Laugh on! None of
these things move me! My mind is made up!"

Sometimes he is too careful of his worldly interests. He is a little too
flexible and compliant. He makes concessions which ’consistency of principle’
forbids. Friendships have too much power over him. He has not acquired grace yet
to assert manfully his independence. Hence he is in great danger. This state of
mind is perilous in the extreme. If he does not grow out of it, it will grow
upon him. He is likely to draw back, and to give up all.

See, then, the importance of his immediately seeking to grow in firmness,
resoluteness, determinateness. This was the first thing which the apostle
enjoined next to belief—"Add to your faith virtue," or as the word signifies,
"courage," courage to assert and maintain your principles before all
observation, and against all opposition. Put on at once the courage of a hero,
and the steadfastness of a martyr. Prove that piety is itself the most heroic
spirit in the world. Acquire more and more of the courage which dares to be
singular in holiness. Be more insensible to the world’s favor, frown, or smile.
True religion does not encourage or foster a haughty spirit of independence or a
total disregard of the world’s opinion—but it does teach us so to respect the
testimony of the Bible and the dictates of conscience, so as to disregard all
censures or remarks that are opposite to these. The tree in its growth strikes
its roots deeper and deeper into the earth, and thus strengthens the hold it has
upon the soil—so that it is far less likely to be blown down by the raging
winds. In like manner let your conviction strike deeper and deeper into the
truth, so as that you shall not be thrown down by the conflicting opinions or
the stormy passions of men!

FAITH is susceptible to growth. It was the prayer of the apostles, "Lord,
increase our faith!" And we read continually in the Bible of "strong" and "weak
faith." Faith may be considered either as general, or believing the whole word
of God, which is the faith spoken of in the eleventh chapter of the Hebrews; or
particular, as having respect to the person and work of Christ. As regards the
former, there is ample room in most minds for growth. Difficulties, after the
first impressions and convictions are over, soon arise and present themselves to
the young and inexperienced Christian, and often multiply in his path. He is
perplexed and knows not how to get rid of them. He is sometimes staggered. His
mind is uncomfortable. Now, it is obviously his duty and equally his privilege
to put aside these obstacles. Of course he should pray for divine grace, and, in
the language already quoted, should say, "Lord, increase my faith." But this is
not all he should do. He should read as well as pray. His mind should grow in
acquaintance with the evidence of divine revelation. He should ponder upon the
miracles of Christ and his apostles—the accomplishment of prophecy in the person
and work of the Savior—the success of the gospel in its first ages by fishermen,
not only without, but against, the powers of the earth—the sublime doctrine and
pure morality of the Bible, the lofty views it gives of God, and its correct
representations of human nature, the power it has in not only changing the
society, but doing this by the renovation of the individual man—the miserable
condition of humanity beyond the range and influence of Christianity, showing
the need men have of a Scriptural revelation.

Now all these should become the subject of deep thought and reflection, by which
the opposing difficulties will appear light and little. Such studies are too
much neglected by many people, who are contented to take their religion upon
trust—or to go on their way perplexed by the flippant cavils of infidelity which
are so common in this age of skepticism and unbelief. True it is, that their own
conversion ever will be the strongest evidence of the truth of revelation to the
great mass of the people; yet an acquaintance with the historic proofs of
Christianity, will be of great service, and yield great pleasure in their
religious course. But there must be a deep solicitude to grow in that special
faith which has direct reference to the Savior and his work. Christ is the chief
object proposed to the sinner in the New Testament. The eye that sweeps round
the whole circle of divine truth must rest in him as the center. Faith is
confidence, and confidence may be weak, partial, and wavering; or it may be
undivided, firm, and settled. The young Christian, though convinced that Christ
is the only ground of hope and the only source of salvation, though upon the
whole resting upon him and expecting all things from him, is not yet brought,
perhaps—to that full and entire turning away from everything else, and that full
and entire resting on the Lord Jesus which an intelligent and strong faith
requires. He looks much to his frames and feelings, and his various experiences;
as a consequence, his peace rises and falls on this thermometer. A little more
freedom in prayer, or enjoyment under a sermon, or elasticity of feeling in his
ordinary course, raises him to the mount; while a little less sinks him to the
valley. His opinion of his state is as variable as his emotions, and to a
considerable extent is decided by them. Thus, his course is an alternation of
gloom and gladness.

What does all this indicate—but that the eye is not upon Christ but upon self?
What does it prove—but that faith in Jesus is weak and wavering? That the mind
does not yet see so clearly his finished work as the ground of hope and source
of joy as it should do? The soul is not yet weaned from self-righteousness, but
is almost unconsciously to itself, going about "to establish its own
righteousness," if not of works, yet of feelings. Now faith will as certainly
take us off from dependence upon the latter as upon the former. Nor is this all,
for the weak believer is looking about to many other things for strength and
holiness, instead of Jesus. It does not yet see so clearly as it should do, that
"He is made of God unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and sanctification, and
redemption." 1 Corinthians 1:31. Friends, ordinances, self-imposed rules of
conduct, are all appealed to with this petition, "help me." And in proper
measure and season, it is quite right to use these helps; but not to the neglect
of faith in Jesus. A Christian who has grown in faith has risen above this, and
is enabled to say, and to rejoice as he says it, "I now see that all fullness of
blessing is in Christ, and that it is from that fullness I am to receive, and
grace for grace. I am now weaned from self, and am no longer looking to it for
anything but conviction and condemnation—but am looking wholly and always to
Jesus. My justification, sanctification, consolation, stability, and
perseverance, are all from him, just as all the sap which supports the life and
promotes the fruitfulness of the branch is derived from its vital union with the
tree. Being safely built upon him as my foundation, I mingle nothing with his
work, and find continual matter of rejoicing. Whatever view I take of his person
and work, whether I think of his divinity or perfect humanity; his atonement,
intercession, or example—comfort presents itself. Grace has made me willing to
live out of myself, upon the fullness of Jesus. In him I have what I want, all I
want." This is strong faith, and what an advance from that feeble, fluctuating
confidence which marked the first stages of religious experience. This is true
evangelical confidence, to look for joy, holiness, strength; and to look for all
from Christ. Then is faith settled and strong when we are brought to say, "For
me to live is Christ," or as it might be rendered, Christ is my life.

HOLINESS is an essential part, yes, the very essence, of personal godliness.
This was the image of God in the soul of man at his creation, which man lost by
the fall, and which it is the design of the work of redemption to restore.
Genesis 1:26-27, compared with Ephesians 4:22-24. Are we predestinated, it is
that we might be holy. Ephesians 1:4. Are we called, it is with a "holy
calling." 1 Thessalonians 4:7; 2 Timothy 1:9. Are we justified freely by God’s
grace, it is that we might be holy. Titus 3:7-8. Are we afflicted, it is that we
might be partakers of God’s holiness. Hebrews 12:10. The whole work of Christ
has its end in holiness. He "loved the church, and gave himself for it; that he
might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, that he
might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or
any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish." Ephesians
5:26-27; Titus 2:11-14.

It is a very low and unworthy idea of the design of Christ’s death, to conceive
of it as only intended to save men from hell. His gracious purpose, in addition
to this, was to make them sons of God, and bright and glorious resemblances of
their divine Parent. Holiness was the bliss of Paradise before Adam
fell—holiness will constitute the bliss of heaven. All the inhabitants of glory
are holy; all its occupations are holy; all its influence is holy. Hence the
indispensable necessity of holiness in the Christian character, and the growth
of holiness in the Christian life. But what is holiness? The purification of the
heart by the Spirit of God from the love of sin—and the life from the practice
of it. But this is only a negative view of it, there is also a positive one.
Holiness is the love of God, for his own sake; and the love of man, for God’s
sake. It is the separation of the soul from the works of the flesh—and the
substitution in their place of the fruits of the Spirit. Galatians 5:19-26. It
is that blessed work by which the wilderness of an unrenewed heart, where grow
the briar and the bramble, the thorn and the nettle—is changed into the garden
of the Lord, which bears the fruits of righteousness. Isaiah 55:13.

It is obvious that this is susceptible of all degrees, and therefore of
continued increase. One man may be holier than another, and the same man may be
holier at one time than another. Take, for example, any one single lust either
of the flesh or of the mind; any one besetting sin—the gradual mortification of
that is a growth in grace. If a man has less pride, or covetousness, or malice,
or impurity of imagination, than he had at one time—and more of the opposite
disposition, there is progress. Now, there is great need to say to the recent
convert, "Follow after holiness," for he is so likely to be taken up with the
joy of pardon and the peace of faith as somewhat to forget the necessity of
sanctification. At first his views of sin are both defective and superficial.
Many things in practice are wrong which he does not at first think to be so; and
of the depravity of his heart be has very faint notions at all; while also he
sees but little of the exceeding sinfulness of sin in general. He must
therefore, seek to increase in the love of God, the hatred of all sin, and the
entire consecration of his heart and life to the service of God.

While God is calling to him out of heaven, and saying, "Be holy, for I am holy,"
he must reply by sincere and earnest prayer, "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall
be clean—wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Create in me a clean heart,
and renew a right spirit within me." Psalms 51:7, Psalms 51:10. Be not satisfied
then, without a growth in holiness of which you shall yourself possess the most
entire consciousness, and which shall be equally evident to others. Holiness is
happiness, and the more you have of the former the more you will undoubtedly
enjoy of the later. Enter more and more fully into the bliss of finding the life
of God in the soul continually increasing in vigor and in operation.

It is a sign of growth in holiness when the mind is not only more enlightened in
the nature, evil, and existence of sin in general; but when we become more aware
of little sins which did not formerly strike us; when the eye of the mind is
more ’microscopic’, and can detect sins which we formerly did not see, and
especially when we are more affected by them. When also we are more solicitous
to find out such unknown sins; when we search for them ourselves, taking the
candle of the Lord, and going down into the depths of our own heart to bring to
light what we did not before discover, and when not being satisfied with our own
searching, we carry the matter to God, and in the language of David pray thus,
"Search me, O God, and know my thoughts; try me, and know my ways; and see if
there be any wicked way in me." When we are afraid of committing little
sins—sins of ignorance, sins of omission, and of carelessness; when the soul is
so anxious to be holy as that it would not have even secret faults kept within
it; when the conscience, like the pupil of the eye, becomes so tender that it
cannot bear the slightest touch—this, this is growth in holiness. Blessed is
that soul which is thus assimilating more and more closely to the image of God.

Spirituality of mind and heavenliness of affection are essential elements in
true piety—"to be spiritually-minded is life and peace." And it is also the
state and character of the Christian to live with his thoughts, affections, and
aspirations—all centering in God and heaven. How strong an expression is that of
the apostle, and how little is it known by the generality of professors, "Since,
then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where
Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not
on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in
God." Colossians 3:1-3. Pause, reader, and ponder upon this impressive language.
This is the mind of a real Christian. This is the experience of a child of God.
It is to this that renewing grace is designed to bring us. What do you know of
this spiritual renovation, this strange mixture of death and life in the same
soul; this holy paradox? Ah, what?

Know and understand that vital piety is something more than an abstinence from
crimes, vices, and external sins; yes, and something more than the practice of
the conventional virtues of the world—and also of the church. It is a spiritual,
heavenly mind—an unearthly disposition. The thoughts and affections, by a holy
spontaneity, rise up and flow to God, like the ebullition of a spring, without
external force or instrumentality. Divine things possess an attraction which of
themselves draw the soul towards them. There is no necessity for sermons, or
books, or places, or occasions—to engage the mind and heart that way. There is
an inward taste which, like any other taste—is itself a predisposition for them.
The soul, of its own accord, self-moved, self-drawn, goes to Christ, to God, to
heaven. This is growing in grace, and increasing with all the increase of God.
This is walking more and more by faith—when spiritual, divine, invisible objects
acquire a greater power over the soul—when there needs but the slightest touch
to set the mind in spiritual motion, and the Christian feels increasingly that
his element is devotion, and his native air the atmosphere of piety. The
Christian Temper is one great part of true religion—and by this, as
distinguished from what has gone before, I mean the passive virtues and amiable
affections of the heart; or what is called "the meekness and gentleness of
Christ." Or to refer to another term so often employed by the apostle, I mean
the LOVE so beautifully described in the thirteenth chapter of the first epistle
to the Corinthians. It is of immense importance that everyone beginning the
divine life should study both that chapter and our Lord’s sermon upon the mount.
These portions of Holy Writ fully and intentionally describe and set forth the
Christian temper. Young professors, and indeed old ones too, sadly forget that
LOVE is the very essence of the Christian spirit—it is the very soul of
practical religion—a love that represses the strong passions of the heart and
the boisterous conduct of the life—a love that makes us cautious against giving
offence, and backward to receive it—a love that renders us forbearing and
forgiving—a love that produces a calm, even-tempered mind—a love which speaks in
soft, kind, and gentle speech—a love that dreads the infliction of pain and
covets the communication of happiness.

"O divine and heavenly love—offspring of that glorious Being of whom it is said,
’God Is Love’—you of whom the Lord Jesus Christ was but an impersonation and
embodiment; you that are another name for the gospel, and the very end and
fullness of the law; you benevolent and gentle spirit, how little is your nature
understood and your claims admitted, not only in the world—but in the church;
when shall your sway be felt by all who profess to bow to your scepter—but who
now withhold from you their allegiance, and exhibit so little of your rule?" How
peaceful and amiable; how courteous and affable; how tender and sympathetic; how
courteous and obliging—would this love make us to all around. What lovely
specimens of Christianized humanity, and what attractive recommendations of it,
would this make us! Here, here, is the spirit in which to make progress.

Too many have no idea of the subjection of their temper to the influence of true
religion. And yet what is changed if the temper is not; or of what use is any
other change? If a man is as angry, malicious, resentful, sullen, moody, or
morose, after his supposed conversion as before it—what is he converted from or
to? "Let the mind of Jesus be in you," said the apostle—and in another place,
"If any man has not the spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Christ." Now,
the mind of Jesus was loving, kind, meek, gentle, and forgiving; and unless we
have these virtues we have not, cannot have, the mind of Jesus. We must not take
up the idea that temper is so constitutional, a thing so unconquerable, that we
may as well think to alter the shape and complexion of our body, as to attempt
to change the natural temper of the mind. It can be improved—it has been in
millions of instances—it must be. We must all of us grow more and more in the
"whatever things are LOVELY." We must set out in the Christian career with the
determination, through grace, to eradicate the briar and bramble, the thorn and
the nettle—those lacerating and stinging shrubs—and to plant in their room the
ornamental fir, the odoriferous myrtle, and the fruitful vine.

There is perhaps no sign of growth more decisive, nor anything more desirable in
itself, than the union of increasing holiness—with a wider view of Christian
liberty. These two are sometimes dissociated, and we see, on the one
hand—liberty degenerating into licentiousness; and, on the other
hand—righteousness sinking into bondage. The freedom of the one is privilege in
opposition to duty; the thraldom of the other is duty to the neglect of
privilege. Many an old, but corrupt professor, has abjured the obligations of
the moral law, that he might enjoy, as he supposes, "the liberty with which
Christ makes his people free," while many a young one has placed himself in
spirit under the yoke of the ceremonial code, and brought himself into a slavery
repugnant to the free and generous spirit of the gospel. It is as undoubted a
fact that "where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty," as that there is
holiness. Both passages in the same context are equally true, where it is said,
"There is no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus," but then "they walk
not after the flesh but after the spirit." "For the law of the spirit of life in
Christ Jesus has made them free from the law of sin and death." This is in order
"that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after
the flesh but after the spirit." Romans 8:1-4. How beautifully liberty and
holiness are balanced in this passage. And how important is the exhortation of
the apostle, "Brethren, you have been called to liberty, only use not liberty
for an occasion of the flesh." Galatians 5:13. By liberty, then, we understand,
not only a freedom from the yoke—but also of the spirit, of the ceremonial
law—the spirit of a child in opposition to that of a slave. In other words,
serving God in a spirit of love, which casts out tormenting fears. Young
Christians, who are not yet so enlightened and so settled in what are called the
doctrines of grace, or of free justification through the righteousness of
Christ—are a long time troubled with a legal spirit. There is a kind of
superstitious scrupulousness in little things; things which are prescribed by
human authority, or invented by human ingenuity, or borrowed from human
examples; but not prescribed by the Word of God. In the early stages of
religious experience there is often an unenlightened and sickly tenderness of
conscience, an excessive and shrinking sensibility, which not only subjects its
possessor to a deprivation of lawful comforts and a large amount of very
unnecessary pain—but which also incapacitates him for the vigorous and efficient
discharge of duty. A man always hesitating, and fearing, and trembling, lest he
has failed to execute in some minute particular the will of God, even when his
intentions were the most pure and his efforts the most diligent and faithful, is
but ill prepared either to enjoy his privileges as a child of God—or for
encountering the various events and changes of the Christian life. He will
experience little of that "joy of the Lord, which is our strength," and go on
his way in heaviness. He is the last to whom we would look for an illustration
of that scripture—"Great peace have those who love your law, and nothing shall
offend them."

We should cultivate a filial spirit that shall enable us, amid our numberless
imperfections and failings, all of which must be mourned and resisted, still
cheerfully to enjoy our Christian privileges, and to persevere in the way of
duty, not doubting that we shall be sustained with power from on high to lead a
holy life; and that through the grace of God, and the merits of Christ, all our
deficiencies and errors will be mercifully forgiven, and we shall find
acceptance at the last. I know very well that the tendency of many is, in these
days, to extend too widely, rather than to contract too narrowly, the circle of
Christian liberty; but in these cases, there is a proportionate diminishing of
holiness. The conduct is as little scrupulous in neglecting the weightier
matters of the law, as it is in overlooking the lesser matters of human
imposition. There cannot be a darker sign for any person than to be forever
complaining of the strictness of true religion, and endeavoring to relax the
bonds of spiritual obligation under the notion of enjoying Christian liberty.

It is a striking mark of progress in the divine life when we are brought to
adopt, in intelligence and good faith, the apostle’s rule of conduct for
himself—"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." 1
Corinthians 6:12. Instead of claiming, as many do, indulgence for acts in
themselves unlawful, because they are supposed to be beneficial in their
effects, Paul was not content even with the positive lawfulness of actions,
unless to this was superadded a manifest tendency to the production of good,
setting in no case these two qualities of morality and expediency in opposition
to each other, much less making the inferior to overbalance that which is of
greater force and value; but refusing to take a step when they did not coincide.
He did not resolve, "I will perform those things that are expedient though they
be not lawful; but I will not venture even upon lawful actions, if they be not
expedient." Here is progress, indeed, when with enlarged views of Christian
liberty, there is at the same time an increasing disposition to make that
liberty subservient to our own holiness, and also the well-being of others.

Christian activity is essential to Christian consistency. The injunctions to
this are so numerous as to be interwoven with the whole texture of Scripture.
This is set forth by two very striking metaphors, where Christ told his
disciples they were to be "the light of the world," and "the salt of the earth,"
than which nothing can be more instructive or impressive. They are to illuminate
the moral darkness, and purify the corruption by which they are surrounded. It
is one end of their conversion, for no man is converted only for himself. Hence
said Christ to Peter, "And when you are converted strengthen your brethren."
Every truly regenerated person is, and should consider himself, another chosen,
appointed, and prepared instrument for the world’s conversion. God works by
means and instruments, and these are not exclusively confined to the ministers
of the gospel. There are many ways in which every real Christian can, without
invading the ministerial office, or stepping out of his place, do good to
others. This is required by the law, which commands us to love God, for can we
love him and not desire that others should do so too? Equally also by that other
great commandment, which requires us to love our neighbor as ourselves; for can
we really love him and not seek to do him all the good we can? Read the
following Scriptures with great care and attention, Matthew 5:42-48; Romans
10:6-13; Romans 14:7, Romans 14:9; Galatians 6:6-10; Php 2:4, Php 2:15-16, Php
2:21; Hebrews 13:16; 1 John 4:10-11.

Young converts should have a clear understanding, a deep conviction, and a very
powerful impression of this, that they are called not only to holiness and
happiness—but also to usefulness; and should also perceive that no small part of
the two first depends upon carrying out the last. Yet they are not always so
disposed. They are sometimes so much taken up with the enjoyment of their own
personal religion and Christian privileges, as to sit down in luxurious ease and
indolently enjoy the happiness to which they are brought. But let them know and
remember, that one of the strongest evidences of our own salvation, is a deep
concern and a vigorous activity for the salvation of others. Every true believer
should begin his religious course with an intelligent purpose to lay himself out
for usefulness, according to his abilities, his means, his situation, his
resources, and his opportunities. He cannot be a Christian, who, in the spirit
of the first murderer, asks, "Am I my brother’s keeper?" Benevolence must enter
very largely into the constitution of every real Christian. And like every other
part of the Christian character, it must be ever growing. He must be useful, and
do good as a young man, with even limited means and opportunities. He must first
be active in that way to which he is most adapted. Then he must look out for
something else; for nothing is so suggestive and inventive as benevolence. His
sphere of activity must continually widen, as his experience becomes
established, his knowledge increases, his observation extends, and his resources
accumulate.

Nothing progresses more rapidly in a heart set upon doing good, than an ability
to be useful. They who at first are timid, shy, awkward, in such efforts, soon
acquire courage, expertness, and efficiency. It is a sad sight to see the heart
contracting, the hand growing slack, and the foot heavy and slow, as the means
and opportunity for doing good are multiplied. On the other hand, how beautiful
a scene is it to witness the professor becoming more and more both of the
Christian and of the philanthropist, as years roll on; until he realizes the
description of the Psalmist, where he says, the righteous "shall bring forth
fruit in old age, they shall be fat and flourishing." Psalms 92:14. And what is
the crowning grace, the finishing stroke of beauty, and the brightest ray of
glory in the Christian character? HUMILITY. "It is this among other things, and
high among them too, which distinguishes Christianity from all the wisdom of the
world both ancient and modern, not having been taught by the wise men of the
Gentiles—but first put into a discipline, and made part of true religion, by our
Lord Jesus Christ; and who chiefly proposes himself as our example, by
exhibiting in his own perfect character the twin sisters of meekness and
humility. Everything—our ignorance, our weakness, our sins, and our follies
prescribe to us, that our proper dwelling place is low in the deep valley of
humility. We have only to compare our present spiritual condition, I will not
say with the holy God, the holy Jesus, or the holy angels—but with holy Adam
before his fall, to see how low we have sunk, and how entirely by the fall we
have lost all ground and all excuse for pride. We have only to look at human
nature in general—all corrupt as it is—or study it in our own selves as its
epitome; we have only to look back at what we were before conversion, or to look
in and see how imperfect even in our converted state we still are; we have only
to consider how strong are our resolutions, and how feeble and broken have been
their performance; how many the temptations by which we have been assailed, and
with what success against ourselves—to see most abundant cause for humility. You
may read for injunctions to this virtue—Proverbs 15:33; Proverbs 18:12-24,
Proverbs 19:1-29, Proverbs 20:1-30, Proverbs 21:1-31, Proverbs 22:1-4; Micah
6:8; Luke 14:11; Colossians 3:12; 1 Peter 5:5. But all these injunctions and all
possible motives to this grace are bound up in the example of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Remember that the blessed Savior has done more to prescribe, and
transmit, and secure this grace, than any other; his whole life being a great,
continued descent from the glorious bosom of his Father, to the womb of a poor
maiden; to the form of a servant; to the likeness and miseries of sinful flesh;
to a life of labor; to a state of poverty; to a death of malefactors; to the
grave of death; and to the intolerable calamities which we deserved; and it were
a good design, and yet but reasonable, that we should be as humble in the midst
of our greatest imperfections and basest sins, as Christ was in the midst of his
fullness of the Spirit, great wisdom, perfect life, and most admirable virtues."
(Jeremy Taylor) The same author has given us the following signs of humility.
"If you would try how your soul grows, you shall know that humility, like the
root of a goodly tree, is thrust very far into the ground, by these goodly
fruits, which appear above ground.

1. The humble man trusts not to his own discretion—but in matters of concernment
relies rather upon the judgment of his friends, counselors, or spiritual guides.

2. He does not stubbornly pursue the choice of his own will—but in all things
lets God choose for him, and his superiors in those things which concern them.

3. He does not murmur against commands.

4. He is not inquisitive into the reasonableness of indifferent and innocent
commands—but believes their command to be reason enough in such cases to exact
his obedience.

5. He lives according to a rule, and with compliance to public customs, without
any affectation or singularity.

6. He is meek and indifferent in all accidents and chances.

7. He patiently bears injuries.

8. He is always unsatisfied in his own conduct, resolutions, and counsels.

9. He is a great lover of godly men, and a praiser of wise men, and a censurer
of no man.

10. He is modest in his speech, and reserved in his laughter.

11. He fears, when he hears himself commended, lest God make another judgment
concerning his actions, than men do.

12. He gives no pert or saucy answers, when he is reproved, whether justly or
unjustly.

13. He loves to sit down in private, and, if he may, he refuses the temptation
of new honors.

14. He is ingenuous, free, and open, in his actions and discourses.

15. He mends his fault, and gives thanks, when he is admonished.

16. He is ready to do good offices to the murderers of his fame, to his
slanderers, backbiters, and detractors—as Christ washed the feet of Judas.

17. And is contented to be suspected of indiscretions, so before God he may be
really innocent, and not offensive to his neighbor, nor slack to his just and
prudent interest."

Such is the grace, and such its signs, in which it is the duty of every
Christian to be continually progressing. It is not infrequently the case that
young converts in the ardor of their first love are self-confident, and
sometimes a little high-minded. They are unduly exalted in their own estimation
by the strength of their feelings and the liveliness of their frames, and are
almost ready to wonder at, and to censure, the lowly confessions of others far
older in the Divine life than themselves. They seem already to realize, in their
own estimation, the beautiful language of the prophet, and mount up with wings
as eagles; they run and are not weary, and walk and are not faint. Their
spiritual pride, like the worm striking the young plant, eats into the heart of
the young believer, and where it does not destroy the principle of life, sadly
impairs its growth.

Let, therefore, the early professor be duly aware of this tendency and watch
against it. Let him recollect that as humility may be, and has been, compared to
the roots of the tree, while other graces are its fruits; the latter must be
expected in abundance only as the former strike downwards deeper and deeper into
the earth. Surely it might be supposed there is no one grace in which the soul
would be more disposed or find it easier to grow than this, since every day as
it passes gives us greater and greater knowledge of ourselves and shows us how
little cause there is for pride.

"If we need any new incentives to the practice of this grace, I can say no
more—but that humility is truth, and pride is a lie—that the one glorifies God,
the other dishonors him; humility makes men like angels, pride makes angels to
become devils; that pride is folly, humility is the temper of holiness and
excellent wisdom; that humility is the way to glory, pride to ruin and
confusion—humility makes saints on earth, pride undoes them—humility beatifies
the saints in heaven, and ’the elders throw their crowns at the foot of the
throne;’ pride disgraces a man among all the societies of earth—God loves one,
and Satan solicits the cause of the other, and promotes his own interest in it
most of all. And there is no one grace, in which Christ propounded himself
imitable so signally as in this of meekness and humility—for the enforcing of
which he undertook the condition of a servant, and a life of poverty, and a
death of disgrace; and washed the feet of his disciples, and even of Judas
himself, that his action might be turned into a sermon to preach this duty, and
to make it as eternal as his own story." (Jeremy Taylor) And now, we may ask,
Are there not certain points of resemblance between natural growth and
progressive holiness, which deserve notice? We apprehend there are, and
principally the following—

1. Growth is the order of the natural world for all life, whether in vegetables,
brutes, or human beings. Growth, as we have said, is the law of healthful life.

2. Growth is dependent upon means used to promote it. The child grows in
strength and stature by his mother’s milk; animals in much the same way; and
trees and vegetables by all the processes and supplies of agriculture and the
influences of the heavens and the soil. So is it with true religion in the
soul—there cannot be advance without the appropriate means, both in kind and
measure. These will be the subject of the next chapter.

3. Growth in other things is proportionate in all the parts which belong to
them. If the roots, stem, and branches of a tree all grow together—the tree is
in a sound state. If it be a child, all the limbs grow proportionately, and the
body, and also mind, keep pace with each other. Disproportion produces
monstrosities. If, for instance, the head be larger than the body, or the limbs
smaller; or if the mind is childish while the body is advancing to the period of
youth or manhood, in either of these cases there is deformity. So it is in true
religion. The Christian grows in knowledge, faith, and holiness together. There
is, or should be, no spiritual deformity or monstrosity.

4. Growth is very gradual in all life, not excepting the Christian. No plant
becomes a tree; no child a man; all at once. So is it with the Christian.

5. Growth is perceptible, not, indeed, in its principles—but in its effects. In
the case of a tree or shrub—he who sees it when first planted, and looks at it
some years afterwards, will perceive progress. So of a new-born babe, growing
into a child of two years’ old. So of a young convert—he who converses with him
at his first awaking, and a year or two after his conversion, will perceive an
increase of knowledge, and decision, and comfort, and holiness. This, however,
will sometimes be more clearly perceived by others, than by the Christian
himself. The child is not at the time sensible of his own growth—and it often,
yes generally, requires to look back and compare what he is now with what he
recollects himself to have been, to convince him of his growth. And so it is
with the spiritual babe.

"A healthy child," says John Brown, in his admirable exposition of the epistle
of Peter, to which I am indebted for several of the preceding remarks, "grows
without thinking much about its growth. It takes its food and exercise, and
finds that it is growing in the increase of its strength, and its capacity for
exertion. And an analogous state is, I believe, the healthiest state of the
spiritual new-born bade. While self-examination, rightly managed, is very
useful, a morbid desire of the satisfaction of knowing that we are improving, is
in danger of drawing the mind away from the constant employment of the means of
spiritual nourishment and health. The best state of things is where, in the
healthy vigorous state of the spiritual constitution, ready for every good work,
we have the evidence in ourselves that we are growing; and when that is lacking,
application to the sincere milk of the word will do a great deal more than
poring into ourselves to find either proof that we are growing or not growing."
This is very true, very judicious, and very important—but then it must not be
abused and allowed to degenerate into an utter carelessness about our spiritual
state, nor abate that holy jealousy over ourselves, and that just concern to
grow in grace; without which declension, and not progress, will be our
condition. It is quite true that our chief solicitude should be not to
neglect—but diligently to use, all the means of progress; rather than an attempt
to be perpetually measuring the ground over which we have passed. A child who
does not grow, who finds his years rolling on and adding nothing to his stature,
soon becomes anxious about it, and inquires into the cause of his remaining in
his dwarfish littleness. And when, therefore, the child of God, or one that
professes to be such, makes no advance, perceptible either to himself or others,
it is quite time for him to begin to be anxious, to inquire what has stopped his
progress, and to apply afresh to all the appointed means for his spiritual
advancement.

ADDRESS TO THE READER

You now see what is meant by progressive religion. You cannot be ignorant of
this important subject, nor plead ignorance for the neglect of it. You see
clearly it is not merely an uninterrupted round of ceremonial observances; nor
merely an acquisition of knowledge, though these things may comport with it—but
that it is an advance in faith and holiness. Do you understand this matter, and
apprehend clearly its nature as well as its necessity? Does that one impressive
word growth, growth, stand out clearly defined, luminously seen, impressively
felt, before you? If so, immediately enter upon a course of
self-scrutiny—diligent, impartial, close examination—to ascertain if there be
this progress in you. Again enter into your closet, shut the door, and commune
both with your own heart and with God, and say, as in his sight—

Am I as really in earnest as I once was?

I have changed my situation, do I retain my religion, and have I carried into
new circumstances and relations, my former earnestness?

Am I advancing in my knowledge of the Scriptures and the great truths of
religion, gaining clearer and more distinct apprehensions of spiritual things?

Am I more decided, and resolute, and settled, in all my religious convictions
and godly habits, than I was at first? Is my faith stronger and more
influential, and am I less troubled with doubts and fears than I was?

Am I really holier than I was? Have I gained greater power over my corruptions?

Am I more spiritual and heavenly, more full of devout thoughts and affections?
Do I improve in my temper by becoming more meek, gentle, forgiving, and kind?
Have I learned to combine more of the generous and free spirit of Christian
liberty with an equal advance in holiness?

Am I more anxious about universal and unvarying consistency of conduct? Is it
more and more my concern to be active and useful?

Withal, do I increase in humility? Have I a deeper and deeper sense of my own
shortcomings, and a growing disposition to think better of others, and lowlier
of myself?

Test yourself, very searchingly, by such questions as these.


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  CHAPTER 67: 05.03.     THE MEANS OF CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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The MEANS of Christian Progress This is of unspeakable importance. I will
suppose that some by the reading of the foregoing pages begin to see this
subject in a light in which they never saw it before. I will suppose that a new
concern has come up in the mind now the old one is allayed, and that the great
question at present is not, "What shall I do to be saved?" but "What shall I do
to be sanctified?" We have already said that means must be used. But what means?

1. There must be a deep conviction of the necessity and importance of progress,
and an intense desire to attain it. The subject must lay hold of the mind and
possess the heart. Will a man increase in knowledge, in wealth, in influence—who
has no desire after it? What object of value ever was, or can, be obtained
without a conviction of its value or a wish to secure it? Is it not the desire
that originates the effort, and will not exertion ever be in proportion to the
intensity of desire? What prodigious and wonderful efforts have men put forth
after an object upon which their hearts were set?

Look at the tradesman—how will he toil, rising up early and sitting up late, and
eating the bread of anxiety, to increase his trade. Look at the student panting
after knowledge—how will he consume his days and trim his midnight lamp to
increase his scientific stores. Look at the hero—braving all the dangers of the
field, and the hardships of the campaign, to increase his ’fame’ and to acquire
glory—which is but the name ’vanity’ turned into an idol. Why, why all this
intense energy? Because they have a deep—but mistaken sense of the importance of
the object of pursuit, and an absorbing and overheated desire to possess it. And
on the contrary, why is it that so many professing Christians do not make
progress, and indeed make no efforts to obtain it? Why? Because they care
nothing about it. To take up a profession is all they desire—but to proceed from
one degree of piety to another—to grow in grace—to go on unto perfection—is no
part of their ambition. How many are there to whom if we were to say, "Well now,
you call yourself a Christian, and wish others to consider you as such; and you
are of course eagerly desirous of making continual advances in knowledge, faith,
and holiness; and we shall see you evidently becoming more and more like
Christ." Who, I say, if we should thus address them, would look wonderingly in
our face as if they did not comprehend our meaning; or reproachfully, as if we
questioned their sincerity; or contemptuously, as if we were indulging in
enthusiasm, or mysticism, and wished them to be as visionary as ourselves. Of
course such a frame of mind, and such views as these, are adverse to all
progress.

There must then be concern about the matter. And shall there be none? What! No
solicitude to have more experimental knowledge of truth, faith in Christ,
likeness to God, fitness for heaven! No desire to advance in such things! Is it
possible to be a Christian and yet destitute of this desire to grow in grace?
No, it is not! I tell you, it is not. If you have no concern to grow in grace,
there is no grace in you! You are a piece of dead wood—and not a living branch;
a spiritual corpse—and not a living man. In this state there can be no growth,
for dead things never grow! While on the other hand, the very desire will ensure
the possession of its object.

2. You must enter deeply into that beatitude of our Lord, which says, "Blessed
are those who HUNGER and THIRST after righteousness—for they shall be filled."
Matthew 5:6. This is a passage too much overlooked and forgotten by most
professing Christians. Its terms are exceedingly strong, its sentiment amazingly
important. Among all the appetites of our animal nature none is so strong—none
so imperiously demands supply—none so constantly returns—none inflicts such
suffering when not supplied—as that of hunger and thirst. And this is the
appetite which, in the figurative language of Scripture, is selected to express
the vehement desire we should feel after righteousness or holiness. And it is
not only one of our natural instincts of this kind—but both hunger and thirst,
that are spoken of. It is not the faint and feeble desire which by one filled
almost to engorgement is felt after some luxury, which, if it be not obtained,
the person can do very well without. Oh, no! but the insatiable, unappeasable
desire of the empty, hungry stomach, after necessary food—that is employed as
the figure Jesus uses.

Such should be the longing of every renewed soul after holiness. Godliness
should be to it that which is bread is to the body, and in reference to which we
should say, "Evermore give us this bread!" Instead of those longings after
earthly trifles which characterize the worldly mind—those pantings after wealth,
honor, and pleasure, which excite such energies and call forth such activities;
the mind of the believer should be intent on spiritual blessings. No measure of
holiness to which he has already attained should satisfy him. There are sins yet
to be mortified, and he must not be content until they are dead. There are
heights of moral excellence above him which he has not reached, and he should
long to climb up to them. What he has yet attained to, are but as crumbs to a
hungry man, who longs for the full meal; or drops of water to a thirsty one, who
pants for the copious draught. It is astonishing and affecting to see with what
low degrees of piety some professors are satisfied. How little they seem to have
of the spirit of holiness. How very little is there of forgetting the things
that are behind, and pressing forward to greater things yet! How many are there
who are contented with the average piety of the church and the age, and seem
only anxious to stand well in the estimation of their fellow Christians, who are
no better than themselves. How few are there whom nothing can satisfy but an
ever-growing conformity to the divine image!

Perhaps there is in some people a sad disposition to pervert and abuse a passage
of most instructive, and encouraging, and cautionary import—I mean the question
which was asked concerning the small beginnings in the erection of the second
temple at Jerusalem, "Who has despised the day of small things?" Zechariah 4:10.
This has been applied also in a spiritual way to the commencement of true
religion in the soul; and we are told that little grace is better than none at
all—that faith is still faith though it is weak; just as diamonds are diamonds
and gold is gold, though it is in small pieces. Or, to return to the idea
already dwelt upon, life is life though it be but that of a babe, and therefore
is not to be despised. We know it and admit it. But then if little things are
not to be despised, ought great ones to be so treated? And is not satisfaction
with little things, when great ones may be obtained, to despise the latter? Be
it so, that fragments of gold and diamonds are not to be rejected, yet who are
contented with the dust of either when they might have ingots of the one, or
large and costly jewels of the other?

No! the least measure of holiness is not to be despised. It contains a powerful
principle of expansion and enlargement. Does the gardener despise the germ of
the flower, or the seed of a plant, or the acorn of the oak? Or does the parent
despise the day of small things in the life of his babe? No! but then neither
the gardener, nor the parent, is satisfied with the day of small things. So
neither should the Christian. It is well, therefore, to consider, as Barnes, the
commentator, remarks, that there is no piety in the world which is not the
result of cultivation, and which cannot be increased by the degree of care and
attention bestowed upon it. No one becomes eminently godly, any more than anyone
becomes eminently rich or learned who does not intend it; and ordinarily men
are, in religion, what they intend to be. They have about as much religion as
they wish, and somewhat possess the characters which they design to possess.
When men reach extraordinary elevations in religion, like Baxter, Payson, and
Edwards, they have gained only what they meant to gain; and the gay and worldly
professors of religion, who have little comfort and peace, have in fact the
characters which they designed to have.

3. Great attention to self-cultivation, spiritually considered, is a means of
growth. By this I mean what is expressed in one or two passages of Scripture;
such, for instance, as the exhortation, "Keep your heart with all diligence, for
out of it are the issues of life." Proverbs 4:23. It is the heart, the great
vital spring of the soul—the fountain of actions—the center of principle—the
seat of motives; the heart, where are the thoughts and feelings out of which
conduct comes. It is this that must be the first, chief, constant object of
solicitude to the Christian. It is this which God sees—and as God sees it, and
because God principally looks at it—that must be ever uppermost in our concern.
To keep the heart must mean exerting ourselves with great earnestness, in
dependence upon Divine grace, to preserve it in a good state; laboring to
preserve its vitality, vigor, and purity. We must often ask the question, "In
what state is my heart? Are my thoughts and affections in a good spiritual
condition?" The heart is, in another view of it, the citadel of the soul—if this
be neglected, the enemy at the gates will soon be in and take possession. Set a
watch, therefore, upon the heart. Let the sentinel be never off duty, nor
sleeping at his post. Keep out evil thoughts, and unholy affections, and vile
imaginations. Without great vigilance they will elude observation. As soon as an
enemy of this kind is detected, he must be seized and made captive, until every
thought is brought into subjection to Christ. As the state of the heart is, so
is the man in reality, and before God. Discipline the heart then. But there is a
second passage well worthy the attention of all young converts, I mean where
Paul exhorts Timothy thus, "Exercise yourself unto godliness." 1 Timothy 4:7.
The word in the original is very strong, and might be rendered by a free
translation, "practice gymnastic exercises in religion," like the ancient
competitors in the Olympic games. We say also of soldiers in the early stage of
their training, "they are practicing their exercise." They are being trained in
what they do not previously know, and cannot perform without being taught; and
to learn which, and do it well, requires a great deal of labor. So it is with
the Christian, he must in all that concerns true godliness, learn his exercise,
and be often thus engaged.

True godliness, and progress in piety, cannot be acquired without great pains.
As a man cannot be at once a good soldier, while he is a young recruit, and
before he has been drilled upon the parade ground, so no one can be an eminent
Christian as soon as he is converted, and before he has been at his drilling.
Self-improvement in knowledge by the student, and in business by the tradesman,
are the result of great painstaking. No one can expect advancement without
labor. It is astonishing and sad, to see how little concern there is among many
to improve themselves in true godliness.

4. One great means of progress is a constant, earnest, and spiritual attendance
upon all the appointed means of growth.

Private prayer is essentially necessary. "And you, when you pray, enter into
your closet, and when you have shut your door, pray to your Father who is in
secret; and your Father who sees in secret shall reward you openly." Matthew
6:6. A ’spirit of prayer’ is so essential to personal religion, that it may as
certainly be said that it is a dead soul in which there is not this spirit, as
it may of the body that it is a corpse in which there is no breath. Prayer is
the most secret communion of the soul with God—the converse of one heart with
another. Prayer requires retirement—a real Christian must be often alone with
God. No one can make progress without much prayer. True religion is a plant that
for growth must be often removed into the shade. It will be scorched and wither,
if it is always kept in the broad sunshine of publicity. It is the private
communion of friends that increases their friendship. None can progress in love
to God without this private communion. There must be time found and fixed for
prayer, and the time fixed must be kept. That which is left to be done at any
time, is likely to be done at no time. There is nothing about which a young
Christian should be more concerned, than maintaining the spirit, the love, the
practice of private prayer; and nothing which should more seriously alarm him
than any disposition to neglect this. He who makes any excuse for omitting the
appointed hour of visiting a friend must be in a fair way to lose all regard for
him. But there are also public as well as private means to be observed. You must
"Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy." How necessary a right, though not a
gloomy or superstitious, observance of this day is to the preservation and
strengthening of our piety is attested by the experience of others, and not less
so by our own. It is true it is a feast, and not a fast, day; and should be kept
in the spirit of the New and not of the Old covenant; that is, with joy and
freedom, and not with gloom and bondage. Still it must be serious joy. He who
passes his Sabbaths in frivolous conversation, and levity of spirit; who is not
devout in his attendance upon the means of grace; who does not make the best of
the precious opportunity to improve his religious condition; who conducts
himself much as on other days, except that he does not buy and sell, and goes
once or twice to the house of God, cannot expect to get on in true religion.
Tell me how a professor spends his sabbaths, and I will tell you in what state
his soul is—spiritually considered. A Christian ought to be, and I am supposing
he is, a communicant at the table of the Lord. If he is not, he ought to be. It
is by way of eminence, the ordinance. Apart from any superstitious notion of it,
it is a solemn and impressive solemnity. As creatures formed to be moved, as
well as instructed, through the medium of the senses, we are likely to be
affected by those symbols of the body and blood of Christ, which, with such
awesome, though silent eloquence, speak to the ear of faith of him who is thus
set forth crucified before us. Perhaps there is no ordinance of God, which when
observed in a proper frame of mind speaks so forcibly to our hearts, and
operates so powerfully upon our whole souls as this. There, believer, there,
renew your faith in the crucified Savior; there, increase your love as you see
his love so strikingly exhibited; and, there, by the mercies of God, present
your bodies a living sacrifice—holy, acceptable, and well-pleasing to God.
There, consecrate yourself afresh each time to his service as his faithful
devoted servant. What progress can you expect to make if you neglect this
institute so expressly set up, that through feeding by faith on the great
sacrifice offered for you upon the cross, you might be "strengthened with all
might by the Spirit in the inner man?"

Connected with this, is an attendance upon the solemnities of public worship.
None who make any pretensions to true religion can altogether neglect these. But
is it not too obvious to be denied, that modern habits of suburban residence in
large towns are introducing a most injurious partial neglect of public worship.
Once on the Sabbath-day, and never in the week, is all the attendance some give
at the house of God. Can there be progress where this is the case? Can the soul
be strong and healthy upon such scanty fare as one meal a week? They who would
grow in grace, must love the habitation of God’s house—must have the one desire
of David to see God’s power and glory in the sanctuary—must know something at
least of what he felt when he said, "As the deer pants after the water-brooks,
so pants my soul after you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living
God—when shall I come and appear before God?"—Psalms 42:1-2. It is the man who
loves the house of God; who will put himself to some little inconvenience, and
will make some sacrifices of ease to be there; who is likely to profit by the
appointed means. It is those that are planted in the courts of the Lord who
shall flourish—and not those who are only occasionally there. And then how much
depends upon the frame of mind in which, and the purpose for which, this
attendance is carried on. There is a manner of attending upon the means of
grace, which instead of benefiting the soul—does it great harm. Gospel sermons
and the richest devotional services may harden the heart instead of sanctifying
it, and be a savor of death unto death, instead of life unto life. Let us never
forget that to be profited, that is to be spiritually improved in knowledge,
faith, holiness, joy, and love, is the end of hearing sermons, and not merely to
have our taste gratified by genius, eloquence, and oratory. I know scarcely
anything of more importance to put before a young Christian than the necessity,
in order to a healthful state of true religion, of a right end and object in
hearing the Word of God. We live in an age when talent is idolized, and genius
adored. This is, "the image of jealousy which makes jealous" in the temple of
the Lord. With too many it is not the truth of God that is thought of, valued,
and delighted in—but the talent of man with which it is set forth. Now we admit
that it is almost impossible not to admire, and be affected by, genius. Mind
must admire the nobler exhibitions of mind—and cultivated intellects cannot put
up with the crude effusions of ignorance or dullness. To such people, it is not
only offensive to taste—but to piety, to hear such sublime and glorious themes
as the gospel contains set forth in the base and tattered habiliments of vulgar
language and scattered thought. Who would like to have the richest delicacies
served-up on dirty or broken dishes?

Even in regard to books, elegant typography and good paper add to the pleasure
of reading, even where the matter is instructive, and the subject of perusal is
interesting. But it would argue an ill-regulated mind, in the one case, to be
fonder of the elegance of the dish than of the good food which it contains; and
in the other, of the type, paper, and binding of the book, than of the momentous
subject on which it treats. It is scarcely possible to give a more important
piece of advice to one setting out on the ways of God than our Lord’s words,
"take heed how you hear!" We should hear sermons with something of the same
state of mind, and for the same purpose, as we should directions from a
physician concerning our health—or from a lawyer how to avert an impending
sentence of death.

Intimate converse with the Word of God is essential to progress. We must neither
neglect nor idolize the preacher. The sermon in the house of God, must not
displace the Bible from our hand. To be contented with the public ministry,
without the private searching of the Bible, is virtually so far to turn Papists,
or at any rate to act like them. It is painful to think how little use
multitudes make of their Bibles. It is a question which might bring a blush, or
ought to do, upon many a professor’s cheek, "How many chapters of God’s holy
Word have you read the last week—or month?" Not that the Scriptures should be
read, merely for the sake of being read. Some no doubt prescribe to themselves
the task of reading so many chapters every day—and perhaps with much the same
motive as the Papist repeats his ’Ave Marias’, or his ’Paternosters’—as a kind
of penance. This is not what we mean—and we would at once suggest, that as in
eating it is not the quality of food taken into the stomach—but the quantity
that can be digested, which keeps up our strength and promotes our health. So it
is not the quantity of Scripture read—but the quantity studied, understood, and
applied, that does us good. One verse pondered upon, felt, and applied, is
better than a whole chapter or book, read negligently, thoughtlessly, and
without self-application. Not that a verse a day is enough spiritual food for
anyone. It may be feared that not a few have abused those little manuals of
piety got up for the edification of people who really cannot command time for
much reading; I mean the "Text-a-day" books, which are now so common. Surely
those who can command time, should hardly be satisfied with such a crumb of the
bread of life as this. A real, devout, and intelligent study of the Scriptures,
then, is essential to great progress in the life of God. "Man lives not by bread
alone—but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God." To every young
convert, therefore, we say, "SEARCH the Scriptures daily. Meditate on the law of
God day and night. Try how much of the Word of God you can understand, and what
is more, try how much you can practice. Study the Word of God with prayer for
divine teaching. Take up David’s petition, ’Open my eyes that I may behold
wondrous things out of your law.’

Remember this also—there is much corruption in your heart generating a false
bias—and beclouding your judgment, and likely therefore to lead you to
misconception and error. Beseech of God to send forth his Spirit into your heart
to purify it from depravity, that your understanding may be better preserved
from error. Enter deeply into the meaning and marrow of that remarkable saying
of our Lord, "If any man chooses to do God’s will, he shall know of the
teaching." In this important passage we are taught that the disposition of the
heart has much to do with the views and opinions of the intellect. In all moral
questions it must be so. A sincere wish and purpose to do the will of God, will
be our best way to know the mind of God. An honest heart is the most likely
means to gain a correct judgment. True it is, that we must in some degree know
the mind of God in order to do his will—but a desire to do his will, is also the
way to know it more perfectly. We must have knowledge to produce holiness—but
holiness will prepare us for more knowledge. And the knowledge we acquire in
this way will be of a spiritual and experimental kind. We must give up all
preconceived ideas, all prejudices, all pride of intellect, and go in humility
to the Scriptures as learners.

5. A deep conviction and ever-present sense of the need of the HOLY SPIRIT,
accompanied by a constant dependence upon him, is indispensable to progress in
the divine life. Without this the soul can no more grow in grace, than the
produce of the earth can be brought forth without the genial influences of the
heavens. Whatever means are used, and all promised and appropriate ones must be
used, still our dependence for their efficiency must be upon God’s blessing.
Hence says the apostle, "If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the
Spirit." Galatians 5:25. First, as in the body, there must be the principle of
life, then the activities of that principle. And in both natural and spiritual
existence, it may be said, in God we live and move and have our being.

Agreeably also to this, is the other exhortation of the same apostle, "Work out
your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you, both to
will and to do of his good pleasure." Php 2:13. This is one of the most
instructive and important passages of the New Testament. Now, it must be
observed that this was addressed to those who were supposed to be Christians,
who were already saved, though not formally and finally possessed of salvation;
and yet they are commanded to work out their salvation. Of course, therefore, it
did not mean ’works for justification’, for this was already completed. It
means, "Go on working in your sanctification, with a view to the end of your
faith, the salvation of your souls. Go on earnestly in the way of holy walking,
even to the close of life, for though you cannot be saved by and for your
works—-yet you cannot be saved without them—nor can you be saved unless you
continue in them to the end." This is also to be done with "fear and trembling,"
that is with all that deep solicitude which he might be supposed to feel, who
knows he has so important an interest at stake as his immortal soul. The most
confident hope that we are in a state of salvation should not, in the smallest
degree, abate our solicitude about our salvation. But now observe the motive,
"For it is God who works in you both to will and to do." God’s working is not
mentioned as a reason why we should not work ourselves—but as an inducement to
engage us in an earnest and diligent cooperation with him. The meaning is, God
exerts a certain influence upon our minds to produce a certain effect on us—that
effect is, "to will," that is to "choose" to be holy; "to do," that is to
perform holy actions. This effect in us is the end and purpose of his influence
upon us. It is not God who wills and acts for us—but we who will and act
ourselves, under his influence. The mode of this divine influence we cannot
explain. It is not a physical force, such as is exerted on passive unintelligent
matter; nor is it the mere moral force of persuasion, such as one man exerts
upon another by mere argument and entreaty; but it is an influence of a peculiar
kind, and peculiar to this subject, the operation of the Divine Spirit upon the
human mind, causing it to understand and yield to the power of truth as set
forth in the Gospel, and addressed to man’s intellect.

We see in this passage, then, what every young convert should very distinctly
notice and constantly remember, the union of human activity and divine agency.
We can do nothing good for ourselves without God’s grace working in us, and
God’s grace never works in us but to lead us to do that which is good ourselves.
We are not to sit down in indolent inactivity waiting for God’s grace to set us
upon working; but are without delay to begin working in a spirit of dependence
upon God’s grace. The husbandman sows his seed in expectation of the cooperation
of the influences of the heavens; and so must the Christian go to his work.
God’s grace comes not upon the idle—but upon the diligent.

Christians in the early stage of their religious experience are but too apt to
fall into one or other of the extremes of leaving God to do all, or attempting
to do all themselves. The most common error is the latter. Full of the ardor of
first love, they make resolutions, lay down plans, enter upon a course of
action, too often in their own strength. They soon meet with checks and defeats.
Their resolutions are broken, their plans frustrated, and their course impeded
by unsuspected difficulties or successful temptations. Disheartened and
discouraged, they are ready to give all up, and walk the ways of God no more.
Let them rather learn the lesson of the great apostle who said, "When I am
weak—then am I strong," or that other lesson, "Yet not I—but the grace of God in
me." "Be strong in the Lord and in the power of his might." You cannot be too
active as regards your own efforts; you cannot be too dependent as regards
divine grace. Do everything as if God did nothing—depend upon God as if he did
everything. Hence, do all in a spirit of prayer. Go to every sermon, every book,
especially the Bible, every effort—in a spirit of prayer. This is to pervade
everything. Prayer is the golden thread that is to run through all our actions,
stringing them all together, and suspending them all upon the hand of God.

6. The company, conversation, and fellowship of established and earnest
Christians, will be of great service to the young disciple. "As iron sharpens
iron, a friend sharpens a friend." Proverbs 27:17. The allusion is familiar—but
it is very illustrative. The knife whetted upon the steel acquires a sharper
edge. By the communion of friends of congenial minds, knowledge is communicated
from the more intelligent—to the less intelligent; animation, encouragement, and
courage from the lively and the optimistic—to the dull, the timid, and the
gloomy; caution, wisdom, and modesty, from the more—to the less prudent and
discreet; and exhilaration from the joyful—to the sad. Thus the sympathies of
friendship are made conducive to the advantage of those who enjoy them.
Sharpening indeed must have been the communion with Christ on the way to Emmaus,
when the hearts of the disciples burned within them, as he opened their
understandings to know the Scriptures. Even the Apostle Paul himself, great and
illustrious as he was, did not feel himself lifted above these sympathies of
Christian friendship; even he was so cheered by the conference and countenance
of friends, that he longed to be "somewhat filled with their company," and when,
in a moment of dejection, on his way to Rome, he saw the three brethren who had
"come to meet him as far as Appii Forum and The Three Taverns," he recovered
from his depression, "thanked God, and was encouraged."

Hence, then, the necessity and advantage of Christian fellowship and godly
friendship—and I seriously and earnestly advise all young converts to cultivate
it. They should not remain in solitude, having none with whom to exchange their
thoughts, feelings, and solicitudes on those momentous topics which have lately
possessed their minds. It is not good for them in this situation "to be alone."
Solitary and secluded piety, like the fire of a single coal, burns feebly; but
like that is more easily kept alive and kindled to a flame by contact with other
coals. Great care, however, is necessary in the selection of companions. This is
true in reference to all stages of our Christian pilgrimage—but especially to
the first. Those who are established in the divine life can bear with less
injury, the influence of people whose taste, habits, and conversation are
uncongenial with the spirit of true piety—than can the young convert. It is
therefore important he should choose for his associates not only those who are
truly godly—but those who are eminently godly. There is among those whom we may
hope to be sincere in their profession, a very great difference as regards the
degree of their personal godliness. As there are those who are only almost
Christians, there are others of whom it may be said, they are only just
Christians. While the former seem only just outside the line of separation
between the converted and unconverted, the latter only just within it. Their
attainments are so slender—their religion is so feeble—their conversation and
spirit are so worldly and trifling—that it is difficult to determine their real
spiritual character. These are not the associates which will help on the young
believer. They will dampen his zeal and cool his first love. It will be like
plunging his knife into earth, which instead of sharpening it, will take off its
edge; or like bearing his newly-lighted candle into foul air, which will cause
it to burn dimly, if it does not extinguish it. Instead of this, the inquirer
after holiness and higher sanctification should associate with those who are as
earnest as himself, or even more so, whose understanding will instruct him;
whose example will guide him; whose conversation will inspire him; whose
cautions will warn him. Let him seek companions whose society will be as a prop
around which his own young plant can entwine itself for support and growth, and
by whose friendly aid his yet feeble tendrils shall be well sustained.

7. The reading of godly BOOKS, is of great service to all, whether old or young
in the Christian life. The Bible, I know, is the book of books, and should be
supplanted by no other. But we would not imitate the conduct of the Caliph Omar,
who committed the library of Alexandria to the flames, under the absurd idea
that if the books contained only what was approved by the Koran, they were
useless; if what was contrary to it, they were pernicious. Our religious
literature is as valuable, as it is extensive. If it contains no other religious
truth than that which is in the Bible, which if it is orthodox, of course it
cannot, it is still immensely valuable, as explaining and enforcing that which
is in the Bible. It is one part of the creed of Popery that the Bible does not
contain the whole Word of God, for tradition is a part of it; and we scruple not
to aver that their oral law is in many things opposed to the written one. We
reject all such unauthorized and wicked attempts to corrupt the Divine
testimony—and we abide close to the written law or holy Scripture. But though we
deny authority to the works of men, we attach great importance to them as
eminently useful in helping you to understand the Word of God, and therefore
earnestly recommend the perusal of them. To pretend to select from the flood of
publications which is flowing in upon us in this extraordinary age, any works
that might be recommended, would be difficult and unnecessary, and had better be
left to the counsel of those ministers with whom all young disciples are
connected, and who, from a knowledge of their state of mind, or advance in
religious subjects, might be supposed better to understand what is suitable for
them. Those who are really anxious for progress in the divine life, will not
content themselves with the reading of whatever religious books or periodicals
may happen to be thrown in their way—but will have some devotional work, as a
kind of closet companion, the pages of which will be prayerfully read in those
seasons of retirement when the soul secludes herself from all human society to
converse with God.

8. Occasional seasons of EXTRAORDINARY devotion, self-examination and
humiliation—will be found eminently conducive to progress in godliness. I am of
course supposing, for I have already prescribed it, that a regular course of
private prayer is kept up. But we all know that regularity is apt to degenerate
into formality; and what is customary, into mere routine. There may be the most
exact order, and the most constant observance of religious exercises, and yet
there may be nothing better than a dull round of observances. Hence it is
indispensable that there should be occasional seasons of unusual devotion, when
the soul shall take as exact account as it can, of its state and condition. What
has been already said on the subject of an excessive anxiety about our growth,
leading to almost a neglect of the means of progress, in an inquiry into the
reality of progress, should be borne in mind. But still, occasional examination
into the state of our profession cannot be wrong—but must be right. A tradesman
who is always taking stock, under a fidgety anxiety about his trade, would only
divert his attention from that industry and persevering effort which are
essential to success. Still he ought occasionally to do this, or how else can he
know how he is going on, or whether he is not going backwards. So also a nervous
person always fearful about his health, and ever inquisitive into symptoms, and
poring into books to see how ill he is, instead of using all the means of
obtaining and preserving health, is not very likely ever to be well. Yet
sometimes, provided it does not occur too often, or hinder him from present
duties, he may inquire whether some chronic complaints are giving way, and
whether his constitution is strengthening.

We surely ought not to be less anxious about our soul’s health than we are about
that of our body; and though a religious nervousness about their soul, which
really does distress some good people, should not be fostered, still an
occasional examination into our spiritual condition ought to be instituted, and
is really essential to progress. I don’t see how we are to know what corruptions
exist and are to be mortified, or what graces languish and need to be
revived—without occasional more minute inspection than we give to the subject in
our ordinary conduct. In this age when secular matters are so pressing, I may
say, so engrossing and absorbing; when business so encroaches on devotion, and
the time formerly given to the closet is taken away to be given to the shop;
when all men are living in a hurry, and life itself is one constant bustle;
surely, I say, at such a time as this, it is necessary sometimes to step out of
the busy circle, and to enter the closet for pressing home upon the conscience
the momentous question, "How I am going on in my heavenly course?" Such seasons
may be found, and if it can be at no other time, and in no other way, it is
worthwhile to occasionally skip a sermon, and to spend the hour or two which
would be otherwise devoted to that exercise—in solitary communion with our own
heart—with our Bible—and with our God.

9. This enumeration would be incomplete were I to leave out from it, as a means
of progress, those various AFFLICTIVE events with which it pleases God sometimes
to try, to shake, and ultimately to settle and strengthen the faith of his
people. Plants and trees not infrequently, in very dry seasons, require watering
at the time of planting, or soon after their planting; and, indeed all vegetable
life depends much on the rain and the dew for their growth. Hence God said to
the Jews, "I will be as the dew unto Israel." Constant sunshine, especially for
early vegetation, is unfriendly to fruitfulness. Hence God sometimes sees it
necessary to darken the soul with cloud shadows, and cause the clouds themselves
to pour down their contents on the young convert. Disappointed hopes of a
worldly nature, frustrated schemes of happiness, and bodily sickness, come on
some people—all the more painful and depressing because occurring at the outset
of life.

"What," says the young sufferer, "must I so soon prove how treacherous are the
smiles of the world? So soon learn by experience that man is born to sorrow as
the sparks fly upward? Must my very ’morning of life’ be overcast, and the first
stage of my journey be amid storms? Is my destiny so soon developed to be one of
grief and lamentation?" Hush those complaints—dry those tears—dismiss this
foreboding, my young friend. It is wisdom, though you cannot understand it; and
mercy, though you cannot at present see it. Have you never read what is said by
the weeping prophet, "It is good for a man that he bear the yoke in his youth."
Lamentations 3:24. Observe, it is not said, it is "pleasant," but "good." At the
very outset of life take up the conviction that everything is good for us, which
is good for our souls; and that God is the best judge of what is good for our
souls. That very disappointment, or other kind of affliction, which cost you so
many tears—such sleepless nights—such distress by days, was just the thing which
your heavenly Father saw to be necessary at that time for your spiritual
benefit. You were concerned about true religion, and seemed in earnest; but you
were in danger of being too much taken up with the world which had come out to
meet you on your way—with smiling face and open arms. The siren song had sent
its music into your ears—and you were all but ravished and ruined by the sweet
melody. And then God, by the affliction he sent upon you, warned you of your
danger, and plucked you from its jaws. Many in your situation have been treated
in the same manner, and have at length been compelled to say–

"Foolish and vain I went astray, Before I had felt your scourges, Lord; I left
my guide, and lost my way, But now I love and keep your word."

You recollect, perhaps, what God said to the Jews, "I spoke unto you in your
prosperity; but you said, ’I will not hear.’ This has been your manner from your
youth, that you obey not my voice." Jeremiah 22:21. It required a change of
circumstances to bring them to a right mind—and that change came and effected
its own gracious purpose. Perhaps this may have been the case with you. Full of
the buoyancy and eager expectation of youth, it was not likely that true
religion could flourish in such a state of mind as that, and as God had purposes
of mercy towards you. he sent trials, that he might effect his gracious designs.
How strikingly is it said of Israel, "I will go and return to my place until
they acknowledge their offense, and seek my face; in their affliction they will
seek me early." Hosea 5:15. Yes, many, very many, will have cause through
eternity to say–

"Oh, had you left me unchastised, Your precepts I had still despised; And still
the snare, in secret laid, Had my unwary feet betrayed."

I entreat you, therefore, to enter into God’s gracious purpose, and thus gather
grapes, as it were, from thorns—and figs from thistles; by rendering all your
sorrows a means of progress in the divine life. Turn all these painful events to
a good purpose to check your vanity, to curb your levity, and to establish you
in the ways of the Lord. Let them show you the need of true religion as a source
of consolation amid the vicissitudes of life, the power of true religion to
support you under them, and its ineffable sweetness to console as well as to
support. I just now compared affliction to water, for so is it often represented
in the Word of God; but not less frequently is it compared also to the action of
fire. Perhaps you know that in enamel painting upon china, fire is employed. The
colors are laid on, and then the article is put into a small furnace, and
subjected to considerable heat, which at once brings out some of the colors more
vividly, and gives fixedness and perpetuity to them all. In delineating the
divine image upon your soul, something like this method of painting may by the
divine hand be adopted, and the spiritual coloring may be burnt in and
perpetuated by the furnace of affliction. Consider it a mercy to have the work
of grace carried on, though it be by a process so painful as this.

It will be very clearly and it may be hoped impressively seen by these
particulars, that real religion is a very great thing—a matter of immense
importance and requiring great exertion. No doubt many who have made a
profession of it have formed very inadequate ideas of it, and are fearfully
deceiving themselves, and it behooves all who shall read these pages, to inquire
what they know of these things. True religion, as we have shown you, is a battle
which requires complete armor, and the constant use of weapons, in order to
secure a doubtful victory—a race in which many run—but in which few will gain
the prize—a narrow path by which many shall seek to pass through the gate of
life, and by which the few only who strive shall make good their entrance into
the paradise of God. It is only by dint of painful and assiduous striving that
salvation is at length secured, and just as the racer may be said scarcely to
have won, who with the utmost power and fleetness makes good his distance by a
hair’s breadth of space, or within a moment of time. So is it said of the
righteous by the apostle, that they are but "scarcely saved." 1 Peter 4:18. This
is a tremendous passage, and is enough to awaken "fear and trembling" in us all.
The righteous are scarcely saved! They escape from the fire into safety—but as
by a hair’s breadth. How great is the difficulty of bringing them first—to be in
earnest about salvation. How great the difficulty of keeping them from turning
back and away amid the temptations to sin, and the allurements of the world, by
which they are surrounded. How difficult to rescue them from the power of the
great adversary of souls. Through the internal struggles of the mind, and
outward conflicts of life, it often seems a matter of doubt whether, with all
their efforts, they will be saved. And when they are saved, they will appear to
themselves as mariners who have been rescued from shipwreck, who are amazed to
see how near they seemed to destruction, and how unlikely to all human
appearance it seemed at one time they would be saved at all.

Oh, is this true? then how comparatively few are in the way to be saved. Where,
we ask, are those who are behaving themselves in a way answerable to such a
representation? Eagerly, anxiously as for their lives, striving to flee from the
wrath to come, and conscious that if they are saved, it will be so as by fire?
Amid the multitudes who in this day are making a profession of religion, how
rarely are they to be seen, who are diligently plying at the task-work of
Christianity? Who are making a real business of their growing sanctification?
Who are laboring for heaven as if pursued by a conviction that without effort
they will never reach it, and that even after their utmost labors they will but
scarcely reach the goal to which they are tending? Is it not time to sound the
alarm, and especially in the cases of those who are just, according to their own
declarations, setting out in the pursuit of eternal life?

If any on reading this should say, as did the apostles, "Who then can be saved?"
I adopt our Lord’s reply, "With man it is impossible, but with God all things
are possible." To every earnest soul, Jesus says, "My grace is sufficient for
you."

ADDRESS TO THE READER

Now turn back your attention upon the contents of this chapter, with even more
solicitude, because of the greater importance of the subject, than you would in
a time of bodily weakness upon some directions which had been given you
concerning your health. First of all however, ask with serious and earnest
concern the questions—

Am I really so concerned to grow in grace, as to be using all the necessary
means for that purpose? Am I serving my soul as I do my body, that is, by being
careful about my spiritual health, and adopting all proper measures, and
diligently employing them to promote it? Have I solicitude enough about this
matter to be active and earnest in the use of means? Do I really want to grow?
Do I hunger and thirst after righteousness? Do I take pains for this
self-cultivation? Do I most constantly and seriously attend all the means of
grace, public as well as private, and weekdays as well as Sabbath days? Do I
constantly, devoutly, read and study the Holy Scriptures, not allowing other
books to supplant the Bible? And do I search them to be made more holy? Do I
feel my need of the Holy Spirit’s influence, and am I constantly wrestling with
God to bestow it upon me? Do I court the society of the more established and
spiritual members of the family of God? Do I set apart special times for
self-examination, humiliation, and prayer?

Am I improved and made more holy and spiritual by my afflictions,
disappointments, and vexations?

Reader, I beseech you, bring yourself to this touchstone. You cannot progress
unless you are ardent to do so—and use the means.


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  CHAPTER 68: 05.04.     MISTAKES CONCERNING CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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MISTAKES Concerning Christian Progress

Suppose a man were on a journey which was of considerable importance to all his
temporal interests, on which it was every way desirable he should be going
forward with all convenient speed. Imagine also that through some ignorance of
the country, or through his lack of acquaintance with his rate of speed, he
should conclude that he was advancing towards his destined point, while at the
same time, though in constant activity, he was making no progress—but only
wandering about in bye-lanes and crossroads, and still remaining near the spot
from whence he started. In such a case, he might lose the end and purpose of his
journey.

Now, there is something like this in the course of some people in regard to
religion. They are in motion—but not in progress! The mistakes on this subject
are very numerous, and require great pains in those who have to teach, to point
them out; and also attention on the part of all who have any solicitude about
their spiritual welfare, in order to be acquainted with them. The temptations of
the father of lies, aided by the deceitfulness of the human heart, originate
many very injurious errors concerning our spiritual condition, and lull us into
a state of complacency, where we ought to be deeply solicitous and somewhat
alarmed.

A. I will first enumerate and correct some mistakes of those who think they are
making progress in godliness, but in reality are standing still, or declining.

1. It is not an infrequent case for people to conclude they are advancing,
because they are not, in their own view of their case, actually receding. They
do not see any outward and visible signs of backsliding. They have fallen into
no grievous sin, and have brought no blot upon their character, nor discredit
upon their profession. They are not conscious of any known departure from the
way of rectitude, and have not fallen from their steadfastness. Their usual
round of duties is performed, and they have not subjected themselves, by any
part of their conduct—to rebuke or censure. All this may be so, and yet there
may be no progress. Is it enough to stand still on our path? Would it satisfy
the man on the journey just alluded to, if he could merely say, "I am not going
backwards?" Would this prove he was advancing? It may be said, and we have
already said it, that in one sense not to advance is to recede. But were it not
so, surely to stand still is not to go forward. Have you more knowledge, more
holiness, more love, more spirituality, than you had? Is your growth at all
perceptible, though it be in ever so small a degree? Do not compare yourselves
with some who are rapidly going back, and imagine that in relation to them you
are going forward, while you are standing still. Have you ever, when traveling
in a steam carriage, while your own railway train was stopping at the station,
and another was passing slowly in a contrary direction, imagined that it was you
that were in progress? So is it in this case. You may be quite at rest, while,
compared with others going back, you seem to be in motion forwards.

2. Some estimate progress by the TIME they have been in motion. Suppose a person
unacquainted with the rate of speed of a ship at sea, and not understanding the
influence of contrary winds, and the process of getting slowly on by tacking,
were to calculate thus, "We have been so many hours or days at sea, and we must
therefore be so far on our voyage." Suppose the man on the above journey to have
fallen asleep, or loitered away his time—and then, taking out his watch, were to
calculate that because he has left home so many hours, he must be getting on
very well. Is there nothing like this in some professing Christians? It is so
many months or years since they took up their religious profession. They have
been all this while regular attendants at public worship, and communicants at
the Lord’s Supper. They have heard already innumerable sermons, and read many
good books. They have outlived the novelties of a religious life, and the ways
of God are now familiar to them. How can it be doubted, they say, that they who
have been so long on the road, are advancing?

Ah, this is just calculating spiritual progress by time, rather than by
distance. Be it known to you, that a professed Christian may be long, very long,
in standing; yes, and after all, it is but standing without going. A dead stick,
however long it may be in the ground, will not grow. Sign-posts stand for ages,
and measure distances for travelers—but never advance an inch. Do not conclude,
then, that because your conversion is supposed to have taken place long since,
that, therefore, your sanctification must be far advanced. It is a pitiable
sound, and argues an imbecile mind, as well as a diminutive body, to hear a poor
dwarfed cripple say, "I must be growing for I am ten years old." Everybody else
sees that the poor child’s stature never increases an inch!

Let the Christian not think of the years he has professed—but the actual
attainments he has made. The length of his profession ought to be attended by an
advance in all that constitutes vital godliness, proportionate to the advantages
he has enjoyed, and the time he has had them; but alas, alas, how rarely is this
the case? In the orchard or vineyard, young trees may be growing when they bear
no fruit, and a stranger may be ready to say they make no progress—but the
skilled gardener says, "Give them time and they will grow fruit." And when they
do bear fruit, it is in proportion to their age. In the garden of the Lord young
plants ought to bear some fruit immediately, and the fruits of righteousness
should be also in proportion to their age. But is it so? How many whose eye
shall read these pages will blush, if they have any holy shame, to compare the
date of their planting in the courts of the Lord, and the fruit they produce!

3. There may be an increase of theoretic KNOWLEDGE, and of ability to talk with
fluency upon the subjects of religion, and to defend the truth against
gainsayers—without any corresponding advance in spiritual feeling and holy
conduct. There is a great deal of very interesting matter in the Bible, apart
from its spiritual and vital power as God’s instrument of sanctification. Its
history, its poetry, its sublimity, its chronology, its eloquence, its
prophecies, its pathos—all may become subjects of study, and even of delightful
study—without faith in its doctrines, or obedience to its precepts. Thousands
and thousands of volumes have been written on religion by men whose hearts were
never under its power. Some of the noblest productions of theology have issued
from the pens of those to whom, it is to be feared, it was all mere theory. Like
brilliant lamps, they lighted others on their way to heaven—but never moved
themselves! Or to raise still higher the metaphor, they were like lighthouses,
which directed ships on their course—but were stationary themselves! In more
private life, and less important attainments, how many have made themselves
acquainted with the theory of divine truth, as taught in books, sermons,
articles, creeds and catechisms, so as to be able to explain the orthodox system
of doctrine, and to argue for it—whose hearts have never been sanctified by the
truth! And even where it may be hoped the great change has been wrought, and a
start made for salvation and eternal life, there may be a growth in ’knowledge’
without a proportionate growth in ’grace’. Many young people are now happily
engaged in Sunday-school teaching, the distribution of religious tracts, and
various other operations of religious zeal—which give them of necessity a
growing acquaintance with the system of religious truth. They can talk with more
fluency and correctness on divine things. History, doctrine, and precept, are
all more familiar to them, and at the same time their thoughts are more drawn to
the subject of ’religion generally’ as the matter of their teaching. Hence,
there may seem to be to themselves, a perceptible progress. And so there is—in
theory. But if at the same time there is no advance in holiness, Christian
charity, conscientiousness, self-denial, and humility—these signs of advance may
be, and are—all deceptive. Their knowledge has been collected, not as the
materials of personal sanctity—but of activity. Such acquisitions may be only
the "knowledge which puffs up," but not "the love that edifies."

There are people whose acquaintance with Scripture is surprising, and yet who,
though they could quote most aptly from nearly all parts of the Bible, give too
convincing proof that their knowledge is of the letter only, and not of the
spirit. I knew a person who was so intimately acquainted with the Scriptures,
that if you gave him any chapter or verse in most of the books of either the Old
or New Testaments, he would immediately repeat the words—and yet he was
altogether an unconverted man! And I was acquainted with another who was so fond
of the study of prophecy that he became more conversant with the predictions of
the books of Daniel and of the Apocalypse than anyone I ever knew—yet he was at
the same time, entirely a man of the world.

Yet there are many who regard this increasing acquaintance with the text of the
Bible, as an evidence of growth in grace. While, therefore, we would urge every
young convert to make a longer and larger acquaintance with the Word of God,
assuring them that there can be no growth in grace without some advance in
knowledge, and that the more knowledge of it they have the more they are
prepared to be useful, happy, and holy—provided they couple with it other
things. Yet that at the same time there may be large increase of Biblical
knowledge, without any growth in grace. Ask yourselves then the solemn question,
and ask it solemnly too—whether in proportion as you store your minds with
biblical texts and biblical ideas, you all the while are seeking to have your
heart filled with biblical feelings, and your life with biblical actions? Is
your advancing light attended with increasing warmth? As you grow in
acquaintance with the character of God—do you reverence him more? As your ideas
brighten on the person of Christ—do you love him more? As you become more
acquainted with the perfection and spirituality of God’s Word—do you delight in
it more and more after the inward man? As you see more clearly the evil of
sin—do you hate it with a more intense hatred? As your Biblical knowledge
widens—do you become more profoundly humble, more tenderly conscientious, more
gentle, more spiritual? Unless this be the case you are in a fatal mistake by
supposing you are making progress in the divine life, merely because you are
advancing in biblical knowledge.

4. In some people there is a growing knowledge of their CORRUPTIONS, and
perhaps, an increase of lamentation over them, unattended by any disposition or
effort to mortify them—and yet this growing light into the depravity of their
nature, and this real vexation, for so it may be called, rather than godly
sorrow, leads to no proportionate mortification of sin. There can be little
doubt that many do know more and more of the plague of their own hearts, and are
made continually more sorrowful by it, who content themselves with venting their
unavailing regrets, and make no progress in removing the evils they deplore, and
yet conclude that this growing self-knowledge is an evidence of growing piety.
So it would be if it were followed up by ’amendment of life’. "Godly sorrow
works repentance," that is reformation. And that sorrow is not godly sorrow,
however pungent it may be, and however miserable it may make the man—which does
not produce reformation. Many a holy Christian is made more and more holy with
less of misery on account of sin, just because his grief, whether greater or
less, leads to amendment; than he who, whatever may be his mortification of
feeling, does not carry it on to a mortification of sin.

What would we say of a housewife who made herself continually miserable about
the disorder and uncleanness of her house—but who took no pains to rectify the
confusion and to cleanse the filth? It is to be greatly feared that very many
professors of religion satisfy themselves with being made unhappy by the
knowledge and experience of their sins. They are loud in their lamentations,
ample in their confessions, and seemingly profound in their humiliations. But
there the matter ends. They who heard their self-abasing acknowledgments
yesterday—see them no better today. They are like some chronic invalids, whose
diseases arise, in great measure, from their own self-indulgence , who are ever
complaining of their ailments, and ever lamenting, as well as continuing, their
harmful habits—but who will never exercise that self-denial which is the only
way to restoration, and who yet imagine it is a sign of growing attention to
their health, because there is an increasing disposition to lament their
sickness and to confess their imprudence.

5. A very common error is to mistake a growth of SECTARIANISM, for an increase
of grace. Perhaps there is no delusion more common than this. Ecclesiastical
polity and sacramental observances, as matters of divine revelation, are both of
some importance; yet it is perfectly clear, from the testimony of Scripture,
that they are of less consequence in the divine life, than faith, hope, and
love. "The kingdom of God is not food and drink; but righteousness, and peace,
and joy in the Holy Spirit." Romans 14:17. "In Jesus Christ neither circumcision
avails anything, nor uncircumcision; but faith which works by love." Galatians
5:6. If these passages mean anything, they teach us the entire subordination of
what is ceremonial—to what is spiritual. To see a person more interested in, and
more zealous for, some ritual observance, than the cultivation of
charity—attaching more importance, both as matter of experience and controversy,
to baptism and the external form of the church, than to the doctrines of
justification, regeneration, and sanctification—marks a state of mind very
different from that which is inculcated by the precepts, and manifested in the
conduct, of the sacred writers. The great object of the apostles was to cherish
in their converts the spirit of faith and the practice of holiness. Yet we very
often see a different line of conduct, both in the teachers and professors of
religion in the present day, by many of whom an extraordinary zeal is manifested
for either established or unestablished churches, as the case might be; and for
a more elaborate or a more simple ceremonial, while little concern is felt or
expressed to inculcate "the fruits of the Spirit, which are love, joy, peace,
patience, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." Galatians 5:22.

We not infrequently see young professors, when their first concern about
religion is over, taking up with the ardor of eager novices these secondary
matters, and becoming zealots for supporting, defending and propagating them.
This is sometimes especially apparent in those who have lately transferred
themselves from one section of the universal church to another. Proselytes, as
if to prove the sincerity of their conviction, and reconcile themselves to their
new party, usually, in supporting their novel opinions, excel in zeal those by
whom these notions have been long held. A change of this kind has, in some
cases, effected a complete transformation of character, and they who were before
all torpor, are now all activity and energy; not, indeed, for the great
fundamental truths on which all Christians agree—but for those minor matters on
which they differ. Churchmen, that as such were dull and lethargic, have, on
becoming dissenters, been all life and energy, not so much for faith, love, and
holiness—but for nonconformity. While on the other hand dissenters, who, while
such, were supine and inert, on entering the established church, have become the
zealous advocates and propagators of perhaps even high-church principles.

Let not people of this description mistake such sectarianism for advancement in
the divine life. This holy vitality has reference rather to the principles on
which all are agreed, than to those minor matters on which they differ. A mighty
furor for religious forms, or a most impassioned zeal for religious
establishments, may comport with very little vital godliness; yes, the former
may go far to enfeeble the latter. Instead therefore of such a state of mind
indicating progress, it manifests a retrogression. The man has become more of a
dissenter or churchman—but perhaps less of a spiritual, humble, and
simple-minded Christian. It is the human element in their religion, not the
divine, that has strengthened; the shell that has thickened, not the kernel that
has enlarged. There has been motion—but it is a lateral one from the straight
line, not a progress in the right direction. It is a going backwards—from
primary to secondary matters. A disfiguring growth has swelled upon the tree—but
the tree itself has been hindered and not helped in its advance.

6. Much the same remark will apply to a growing attachment to some particular
PREACHER, which is not always of itself a proof of progress in true religion. We
are allowed our preference even in this matter—for though it is the message
rather than the messenger—the truth rather than the preacher—that is to be the
ground of our attachment, yet it cannot in the nature of things be otherwise
than that we should prefer one minister to another. He may have been the
instrument of our conversion, or the means of our establishment in the faith.
Or, independently of these matters, he may more clearly explain, and more
powerfully enforce God’s truth. Or even without this, his natural abilities with
equal orthodoxy and piety may be more to our taste; and on all these grounds
preference, within certain limits, is allowed. But nothing in a young convert
requires greater care and effort to keep down excess, than ’ministerial
attachment’, lest it should degenerate into exclusiveness and spiritual
idolatry. This is a danger into which multitudes run. They make this ’pulpit
favorite’ not only the standard of all excellence—but its monopolist. They think
basely of everyone else. They can hear, at or any rate relish, no other. When he
preaches elsewhere they follow him—or if they cannot do this, they make up their
mind not to profit by his substitute. This actually grows upon them until he is
everything, and all other ministers nothing. Now this very attachment is by some
supposed to be a proof of progress; especially in the case of those who formerly
cared nothing about this minister, or any other. They now feel pleasure in
hearing him—but then it is confined to him, and this preference, instead of
leading them to love him for the sake of the truth he preaches, leads them
rather to love the truth for the sake of the preacher.

If with their preference for him, they united a delight in hearing all who
preach the same truths; and his preaching had formed in them a taste for
evangelical doctrines, instead of for one man who preached them, this would be a
blessed result, and one that would prove advance in true religion. Perhaps there
are few evidences more conclusive of progress than such a state of mind as is
described in the following reflections, "At my first setting out in the ways of
religion, I felt a preference for my minister so strong, that I could hear with
pleasure no other. I was disappointed and discontented if I saw anyone else in
the pulpit, and thought the sermon scarcely worth listening to. I now see it was
more an attachment to the preacher himself than to his message. True, I was
pleased with his doctrine—but still more with his manner of setting it forth. As
my knowledge of divine truth increased, and I became more and more in love with
this, I found my delight more and more drawn off from the preacher to his
doctrine. Until now, with my preference for him above all others still
remaining, I am so much taken up with the truth as it is in Jesus, and feel so
much more the importance of the matter than the manner, that I can hear anyone
with pleasure who, with tolerable ability, explains and enforces the glorious
gospel of the blessed God. It is the man who opens most clearly to my judgment
the truth of God’s word, and enforces it most powerfully upon my heart and
conscience, and carries on my growth in knowledge, peace, and holiness—that is
the preacher I love most." There is no mistake here.

7. Somewhat analogous to this, some mistake a growing delight in some particular
DOCTRINE, or some particular parts, aspects, and subjects of the Bible, for
progress in the divine life. "All Scripture," to quote this passage again, "is
given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for
correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be
perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works." But all Scripture is not
equally adapted to foster the strength and promote the health of the soul. Now
it is clear to anyone who will attentively study the New Testament, that the
truth by which we are to be sanctified—the doctrine which is according to
godliness—the "perfection," which is distinguished from first principles—is the
mediatorial character and work of Christ. This seems to be plain from our Lord’s
words, "I assure you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his
blood, you cannot have eternal life within you. But those who eat my flesh and
drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them at the last day. For my
flesh is the true food, and my blood is the true drink. John 6:53-55. This is a
most momentous passage, and deserves the very serious attention of all, and
especially of young converts.

It is of vast consequence, in bodily nutrition, to know what is the most
nourishing food, and what will sustain the strength and increase the stature of
the body. Can it be less so in the nutrition of the soul? Here then, by Him who
came to give life—by the great Physician of the soul—we are told upon what food
the growing Christian must live. In these words our Lord did not, could not,
mean to be understood literally. By his flesh and blood, he meant his body
offered up in sacrifice, and his blood shed as an atonement for sin; and by
eating his flesh and drinking his blood, he intended nourishing the divine life
by the knowledge, the faith, the contemplation, of his atoning death as it is
set forth in the Scriptures. The study of everything that stands connected with
the atoning death of Christ, whether it be in the types of the ceremonial law,
the predictions of the prophets, the narratives of the Gospels, the doctrines of
the epistles, or the sublime visions of the Apocalypse—this is the food of the
soul—the manna from heaven—the bread of life. This is "food indeed," and "drink
indeed." Whoever with hungry appetite feeds upon this will grow—and whoever
neglects this will become lean and weak.

Now there is a proneness in some to neglect this, and endeavor to support their
spiritual strength by something else. It is not the study of the Biblical
history, or chronology, or historical facts, or beautiful poetry, or pathetic
narratives, or sublime compositions of the Bible—that will best sustain our
strength—and yet some are thus attempting it. They see many beauties in the
Bible to which they were formerly blind. They are enamored with the sublimities,
for instance, of the book of Job or Isaiah. They admire the wondrous wisdom of
the book of Proverbs. They luxuriate amid the pathos of the history of Joseph,
or the morality of the Sermon upon the Mount. Their attachment to those parts of
revelation is rather growing than declining, and in proper measure all this is
highly commendable. Such books as Gilfillan’s "Bards of the Bible," and Kitto’s
"Daily Readings," should be read, and cannot be read without admiration, and
exquisite delight, and valuable information. And many do read them with these
feelings, and hence they imagine they are progressing in true religion, although
they have little relish, perhaps, for the doctrines of the Gospel—the mediation
of Christ—the salvation into which the prophets inquired diligently, and into
which the angels desired to look. They do not feed on the flesh and blood of the
great Sacrifice.

8. There may be a mistake made, by the mortification of some ONE SIN while
others are left unsubdued. It is so far an advance if one enemy of our soul,
from right motives and by right means, be destroyed. And in the work of
spiritual improvement it is wise and well, instead of losing our time and
wasting our energies in mere general and unsystematic mortification, to select
occasionally some one sin to begin with in the way of more direct and
concentrated attack—and no doubt the crucifixion of that corruption—the cutting
off of that right hand, or the plucking out of that right eye, is a gain in
sanctification—a step in advance and a means of gaining other victories. But
what I am anxious to guard you against is, the supposition that because some one
evil to which you may be more strongly tempted is abandoned; or some practice
which may militate against your health, or interest, or comfort, is given
up—that you are progressing in godliness. Sin may be discontinued for various
reasons. A drunkard may give up his inebriety, not because it is sinful—but
hurtful. Another may discontinue some fraudulent practice, not because it is
forbidden by God—but is disgraceful in the estimation of man. A young professor
may give up some ensnaring worldly amusements, not because be is afraid of their
influence upon his spiritual welfare—but because they make too great inroads
upon his purse. It is not therefore the abstract abandonment of a sin—but the
motive which leads to it, which is a proof of the work of grace. "How shall I do
this great wickedness, and sin against God?" This sentiment must lie as the
motive at the base of all mortification of sin. And then moreover, the
destruction of any one sin must be viewed and carried on as a part of the
purpose and the act for the destruction of all sin.

B. I now proceed to enumerate and to correct some mistakes of a contrary nature
to those just considered. I mean such as are committed by those who are making
progress, and yet are somewhat anxious and distressed under supposition that
they are not; and even fearing that they are declining. The cases are perhaps
not numerous of people deeply concerned about salvation, really earnest in true
religion, and yet harassed with the apprehension that they are at a standstill,
or even going back. There is a sincere desire to advance in holiness, and to
increase in spirituality; and they are even diligent in the use of means to
accomplish that end. In reference to them, I do not hesitate to say that their
very state of mind is itself an evidence of progression. This solicitude is
itself advancement. The very desire of improvement, the will to go on, the
longing after greater attainment, is progress. It is itself an impulse—a
forgetting the things that are behind, and a reaching forward unto those things
that are before. There cannot be a more convincing proof of halting or
retrograding, than complacency in ourselves. While on the other hand, a growing
disposition to find fault with ourselves, and humble ourselves, and really
improve ourselves, is one of the brightest indications of our going forward,
provided there is all diligence in the use of the means of self-improvement.

1. Some are fearful that they are not making progress because their feelings are
not so vividly excited in religious matters as they formerly were. They are not
easily and powerfully wrought upon either in the way of joy and sorrow, hope and
fear, as they once were. They have not those lively and ecstatic states of mind
which they formerly experienced when they began the divine life.

Here we must just glance at the constitution of our nature. True religion exerts
its influence over all the faculties of the soul—it calls into exercise the
understanding, engages the determination of the will, moves the affections, and
quickens the conscience. The same differences of natural constitution will be
observable in some degree in the new or spiritual nature as existed in the old
or physical one. A person of great sensibility in ordinary things, will, after
conversion, be so in spiritual ones; while they of little emotion in the former
will exhibit the same phase of mind in the latter. The sensibility or emotional
state of the mind depends very much therefore on our physical organization. Now
it is a very wrong criterion of the reality and degree of our true religion to
judge of it only by the exercise of the affections. Some people of excitable
natures are easily moved to joy and sorrow, hope and fear. The power of poetry
or eloquence, of sights of distress or raptures—over their feelings is
irresistible; while at the same time their judgments are not proportionately
employed, their wills not in the same measure engaged, and their conscience but
little moved. Take, for instance, the sentimental readers of novels, how by fits
they are melted to tears, or excited to ecstasies. Yet how idle and unemployed
are all the other faculties of the soul. There is no virtue in all this. It is
mere sentimental emotion. Now look at the philanthropist. He may not be a man of
tears, or of strong and vivid emotions of any kind—but he is a man of principle.
His understanding comprehends the circumstances of some case of deep distress,
and he judges it is right to pity and relieve it. His heart, though not wrought
up to extreme anguish, so as to fill his eyes with tears, and his mouth with
loud lamentations, feels for the miserable object; his will resolutely
determines at once to help the sufferer; and his conscience, which would condemn
him if he did not, approves the determination. You will particularly notice what
constituted the virtue of the good man; not wholly the emotional excitement, for
there was very little—but the dictates of the judgment, the determination of the
will, and the action which was performed under these conjoint powers. So it is
in true religion, which consists partly of the exercise of all the faculties—but
chiefly of the judgment, will, and conscience. The heart is of course, engaged,
for we must love God and hate sin—we must delight in Christ and fear the wrath
to come; but the amount of vivid emotion is of little consequence, compared with
an enlightened judgment, showing us clearly what is right and wrong; a
determined will to avoid the evil and perform the good; and a tender conscience
shrinking from the least sin. Emotion is, to a certain extent, instinctive,
involuntary, and irrepressible. Not so with judgment, will, and conscience. It
is not, therefore, the amount of feeling—but of willing and doing, and approving
or condemning, that determines the state of true religion.

There is such a thing I know—and, alas, it is a very common one—as losing "first
love," and it is marked by our Lord with his disapprobation in his address to
the church at Ephesus; but many distress themselves on this account who have no
need to do so. Their ardor perhaps, at first was in some measure the excitement
of animal feeling, which will soon die away of course, though their real
practical love may not be diminished—but may be growing stronger. When a son
returns home after a long absence, especially if he be a reclaimed prodigal, and
meets his parents, brothers, and sisters, there is a glow of feeling, a
joyousness of emotion, which cannot be expected to continue always, and which he
may never be able to recall again, though he may be ever growing in real
attachment to his friends and his home. From all this it will be seen that the
emotional part of true godliness may be, and is by many, overestimated. The
question is not merely what we can feel—but what we can do, for Christ; not how
many tears we can shed—but how many sins we can mortify; not what raptures we
can experience—but what self-denial we can practice; not what happy frames we
can enjoy—but what holy duties we can perform; not simply how much we can
luxuriate at sermon or at sacrament—but how much we can exhibit of the mind of
Jesus in our communion with our fellow-men; not only how far above earth we can
rise to the bliss of heaven—but how much of the love and purity of heaven we can
bring down to earth—in short, not how much of rapt feeling we can indulge—but
how much of godly principle we can bring to bear on our whole conduct.

It is evident, therefore, there may be progress where there is a fear that there
has been declension. The vividness of feeling may have subsided—but if the
firmness of principle has been strengthened, it is only like the decadence of
the blossom when the fruit has set. The joy might not be so great—but it may be
more intelligent, more solid, and more sober. Just as the exuberant delight of
the child, when it passes off, leaves the pleasure of the youth less noisy—but
more rational. The frames and feelings may be less rapturous—but they may at the
same time be less idolized, less depended upon, less put in the place of Christ.
The growing Christian is less pleased with self—but sees more of the glory of
the Savior—his own righteousness appears more imperfect and defiled, and is
therefore less loved—but the righteousness of the Savior comes out before him
more beautiful, glorious, and necessary.

2. Distress is sometimes felt in consequence of mistaking a clearer view and
deeper sense of depravity, for an actual increase of sin. This is by no means an
uncommon case. The young Christian seems sometimes to himself to be growing
worse, when in fact it is only that he sees more clearly what in fact he really
is. In the early stages of true religion we have usually but a slender
acquaintance with the evil of our sin or the depravity of our heart. The mind is
so much taken up with pardon and eternal life, and even, indeed, with the
transition from death to life, that it is but imperfectly acquainted with those
depths of deceit and wickedness which lie hidden in itself. And the young
convert is almost surprised to hear older and more experienced Christians talk
of the corruptions of their nature. It is almost one of the first things one
would suppose they would feel, yet it is one of the last they effectually learn,
that true religion is a constant conflict in man’s heart—between sin and
holiness. At first they seem to feel as if the serpent were killed—but they soon
find that he was only asleep—for by the warmth of some fiery temptation, he is
revived and hisses at them again, so as to require renewed blows for his
destruction. Nothing astonishes an inexperienced believer more than the
discoveries he is continually making of the evils of his heart. Corruptions
which he never dreamt to be in him, are brought out by some new circumstances
into which he is brought. It is like turning up the soil, which brings out worms
and insects that did not appear upon the surface. Or to vary the illustration,
his increasing knowledge of God’s holy nature, of the perfect law, and the
example of Christ, is like opening the shutters, and letting light into a dark
room, the filth of which the inhabitant did not see until the sunbeams disclosed
it to him.

3. Sometimes the young convert is discouraged, because he does not increase as
fast as he expected; and supposes because he does not accomplish all, and as
speedily as he looked for, that he does not advance at all. The expectations of
young Christians are sometimes as irrational as the child’s who sowed his seed
in the morning, and went out in the evening to see if it was above ground. The
recent convert sometimes imagines that sanctification is easy to work. He
imagines that advance is a thing to be accomplished by a succession of strides,
if not, indeed, by one bound after another. But the remains of old Adam within
him soon prove too strong to allow this unimpeded course of Christian
progression. He knew he had difficulties to surmount—but he calculated on
getting over them with ease—that he had enemies to conflict with—but then he
hoped to go on by rapid victories from conquering to conquer. He is
disappointed—and now imagines he makes no way at all. But why should he so
hastily decide against himself? All growth is slow, and that is slowest of all
which is to last the longest. The mushroom springs up in a night—so did Jonah’s
gourd—and in a night it perished! The oak requires centuries for its coming to
perfection.

4. Some mistake by supposing they do not advance at all because they do not get
on so fast as some others. We would by no means encourage neglect, indifference,
or contentment with small measures of grace. On the contrary, we urge the
greatest diligence. We say go on unto perfection. They who are contented with
what grace they suppose they have, give fearful evidence that they have none at
all. To be self-satisfied is to be self-deceived. Still, as in nature so in
grace, all do not grow with equal rapidity, or advance to equal strength and
stature. It is so with flowers in a garden; trees in a plantation; children in a
family; boys at school; ships at sea; or travelers upon the land. There is
progress in all—but in different degrees. Yet of which of all these can it be
said, they make no advance because they do not advance as fast as the foremost.
The use we should make of the superior attainments of the more eminent of God’s
servants is neither to envy them, nor to discourage our hearts—but to find in
them a stimulus and an encouragement to seek larger measures of faith and
holiness for ourselves.

ADDRESS TO THE READER

Reader, this is an unspeakably important chapter for you to ponder. You must not
pass from it in haste—but linger, and muse longer and deeper. You must now take
up the candle of the Lord, as I have said, and go down into the very depths of
the soul, to search its hidden recesses. Nor should you trust to your own
inspection and scrutiny. Like David, you should earnestly pray to God to search
you, and reveal your real state to you. "Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my thoughts. Point out anything in me that offends you, and
lead me along the path of everlasting life." He knew how prone we are to
self-love and self-deception; how sin lies hidden in the folds of the heart’s
deceit, and therefore he begged the trial and scrutiny of eyes more piercing and
less partial than him own. So must you. We are all liable to judge too favorably
of our own case. Do, do, consider the fatal, the dreadful, the eternal
consequences of a mistake on this subject.

Oh, the idea of imagining we are going on to heaven, when step by step we are
advancing to hell! Is this possible? It is! And the very possibility should
awaken our alarm. Is it probable? It is! And this should increase our alarm. Is
it certain? It is! And this should raise still higher our anxiety. Is it common?
It is! And this should carry our solicitude to the highest pitch. What did
Christ say on this matter? Read with awe and trembling. "Not everyone who says
to me, ’Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the
will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ’Lord,
Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and
perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ’I never knew you. Away
from me, you evildoers!’" Matthew 7:21-23. Read, I say, this passage in which
our Lord with his own hand, sounds the alarm through the whole church. Ought you
not to examine? Is not there need of it? Is it not all but madness to go on
without it? Mistake! What in such a matter as salvation? Mistake! What in a
matter in which an error will require, as I have often said, an eternity to
understand, and an eternity to deplore it! Are you quite sure this is not your
case? Take up the subject, then, and put the following questions to your soul.

Am tolerably sure that I am truly converted to God? Am tolerably sure that I am
a real Christian?

If I am a true Christian, am I really an advancing one—or am I mistaking a
declining state for an advancing one?

Am I mistaking a lengthened time of profession—for a genuine growth in grace?

Am I putting an increase of knowledge, and of ability to talk about religion—in
place of an increase of holiness? Does it satisfy me to grow in knowledge and
lamentation of my corruptions—without mortifying them?

Am I mistaking sectarianism—for true piety? Am I mistaking attachment to some
preacher—with love to the truth? Am I mistaking zeal for some favorite
doctrine—with real love for the gospel? Is my mortification of sin confined to
some one corruption, which interest, ease, or reputation may require me to
surrender; or is it directed against all sin? Is my religion a mere excitement
of the emotions, and my growth only a greater excitability; or is my will more
and more determined for God, my conscience more tender, and my life more holy?

Inquire, I beseech you, into these things. Be determined, by God’s grace, to
know the real state of your soul, and to be under no mistake. Be this your
prayer, "O God of truth, you who search the hearts and examine the thoughts of
the children of men, you know I would not for ten thousand worlds be deceived
about my spiritual state. You know me through and through. Make known to me what
I really am in your sight. Painful as it would be to find out that I have been
deceiving myself, this would be infinitely better than for me to go on in error
until the mistake is past being rectified. I want to know my real state. Even if
I am a Christian, and yet mistaking declension for progress, I wish to know this
also. Let my spiritual insight be clear, my self-acquaintance be accurate. Do
not allow me to deceive myself—as regards my spiritual progress or decline."


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  CHAPTER 69: 05.05.     HINDRANCES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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HINDRANCES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS "But grow in the grace and knowledge of our
Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." 2 Peter 3:18

"Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles,
and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us!" Hebrews 12:1

It is indeed a melancholy thing for the growth of grace to be stopped—and to see
the spiritual child remaining a dwarf. But it need not be so, unless the child
chooses it.

I. INDIFFERENCE to growth, is a powerful hindrance to spiritual progress. This
has been in some measure anticipated where we have said that earnest concern and
desire are among the means of progress. If so, then indifference must be an
impediment to growth. It is not so in nature. A child in health will grow, and
does grow, without a thought or a care about the matter. He may never have one
idea about it; may be as indifferent as a lamb, or a young dove, a tree, or a
flower; yet his indifference will not affect his growth. But it is not so with a
young Christian! Indifference here is fatal to all progress. Look at this.
Indifferent! What, about progress to heaven, and a fitness for it? Indifferent!
What, about increasing knowledge of eternal truth? Indifferent! What, to
increase in holiness, which is the image of God in the soul of man? Indifferent!
What, about the development of that character which is formed by a divine hand,
of heavenly materials, and for eternal ages? Young professor, can you endure the
thought, does it not astound you, alarm you, distress you—to think of being
hindered by indifference? Oh, cast it away at once, and kindle into solicitude
and concern. Be indifferent to anything, or everything else, rather than to
Christian progress!

II. The REMAINING CORRUPTION of human nature, and its imperfect
sanctification—is a powerful hindrance to spiritual progress. And this must be
viewed in connection with the temptations of Satan. This view of the case has
come out incidentally, and may yet come out in other parts of the volume; but,
on account of its importance, it must have a separate place assigned to it here.
It is well for the young convert to have a very clear and vivid perception of
his real condition—of what he really is, what he has to contend with, and what
exertion therefore is necessary to overcome the resistance he meets with in his
course. What then is the real condition, and what are the true circumstances, of
the person whose case I am now meeting?

He is supposed to be truly regenerated—but at the same time only partially
sanctified. Sin is dethroned—but not destroyed! His predominant taste and
disposition are holy--but godly principles may not yet have struck their roots
very deep into his soul. His holy purposes are somewhat vacillating, and his
inclinations to evil sometimes strong, just because, to use a Scripture
expression, "the flesh lusts against the spirit, and these are contrary the one
to the other." Satan knows all this, and by methods which we cannot understand
assaults the soul with his various machinations and subtle temptations. We need
not, for it is useless, attempt to explain the mastery of Satanic influence. It
is nowhere laid open to us. One thing, however, beyond the fact that he does so
tempt us, is certain, that he always assails us through the medium of our own
thoughts, imaginations, and feelings. Somehow or other he has the power of
inciting these. So that our resistance of evil in ourselves is properly the
resistance of the devil outside of ourselves. No perplexity, therefore, need
trouble us about meeting the temptations of Satan, for to vanquish our own evil
hearts is to vanquish him.

It is well to know, to consider, to ponder, the fact that there is still the
danger of an evil heart of unbelief, aided by the power of Satan, hindering us
on our way, and attempting to turn us out of it. We are not only like Bunyan’s
pilgrim, when we first become concerned about our soul, setting out with a
burden of guilt upon our back; but when, like him, we have lost that at the
cross, we have still another burden of imperfections and corruptions to carry,
which without great labor and effort will sadly retard us. It must be understood
well—that though all external circumstances of situation, and helps, and
advantages, were as favorable as they could be, we still have a sad drawback
within. We are like a traveler who is on a smooth road, has fine weather, is
intimately acquainted with the way, has agreeable and helpful companions—but who
at the same time is very lame, or has a load to carry. His lameness or his load
will be a great delay to him. His attention must be directed to these things. He
must cure the one or lighten the other, or he will make slow progress.

"The flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh—and these
are contrary the one to the other—so that you cannot do the things that you
would." Galatians 5:17. "For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwells no
good thing—for to will is present with me; but how to perform that which is
good, I find not." Romans 7:18.

III. Besetting sins are powerful hindrances to Christian progress. "Lay aside
every weight, and the sin which so easily besets you," said the apostle. In the
case of most people, there is some one sin to which, either from their
situation, constitution, taste, or other circumstances—they are more powerfully
tempted than to others. Satan knows very well what in every case this is, and
skillfully adapts his temptations to it. He is an expert angler, and never
chooses his bait, or throws his line, at random! Independently, however, of him,
the very tendency of the heart is in that direction. That one sin, whatever it
is, while indulged, will hold you back—you cannot make progress in holiness,
until it is mortified. Even its partial indulgence, though it may be
considerably weakened, will hinder you. Study then your situation,
circumstances, and constitution. You cannot be so ignorant of your past history,
your present situation, your constitutional tendencies, your experience, your
failures, your resolutions, as not to know what it is which, in the way of
temptation and sin, you are most exposed to. You must, you do know, in what you
have most frequently wounded your conscience, and occasioned to yourself shame
and sorrow. Is it an unsanctified temper? An impure imagination? A proud heart?
A vain mind? A taste for worldly company? A proneness to envy and jealousy? A
love of money? A tendency to exaggeration in speech? A fondness for pleasure? A
disposition to censoriousness, detraction, and backbiting? Study yourselves.
Examine your own heart. You must find out this matter, and it requires no great
pains in order to know it. It floats upon the surface of the heart, and does not
lie hidden in its depths. There, there, is your danger! As long as that sin, be
it what it may, is indulged, you cannot advance in the Christian life! Other
sins are like unnecessary clothing to the racer. Besetting sins are like a ball
and chain round his ankle!

IV. There are some SITUATIONS in life very unfriendly to growth in grace.
Plants, if they flourish, require adaptation of soil, atmosphere, and treatment.
So do animals. So do young children. So do young Christians. In all these cases,
however, except where the situation is so uncongenial as to be certain death,
and certain destruction to the subject of care—much may be accomplished by
extraordinary attention and culture. Corn, by great skill, labor, and expense,
may be made to grow in unfavorable soils. Animals accustomed to a warm climate
may, by very great care, be kept alive, and even in tolerable health, in colder
regions. Children do grow in the absence of many things conducive to health. So
it is with the plants of grace, the lambs of Christ’s flock, the children of
God.

True piety has to exist sometimes in situations most inauspicious to its growth,
yes to its very existence. A servant girl, for instance, may be awakened to a
serious concern about the salvation of her soul, while engaged in a large
family, incessantly occupied, and associated with other servants, who are not
only destitute of all true religion themselves, but who ridicule and oppose
hers; while the heads of the family are also utterly ungodly, so that in all
that house there is nothing to cherish—but everything to wither the blossom of
piety in this poor girl’s soul. Or a young man may be led in earnest to
"Remember his Creator in the days of his youth," and at the time when this new
solicitude is awakened in his soul, he is engaged as shopman in some large
establishment, where he is surrounded by a number of scoffing, dissolute, and
infidel associates, and the master is as ungodly as his servants. Or, a young
lady may start in the divine life, in the midst of a gay, worldly, fashionable
family. Or a wife may become seriously concerned about divine and eternal
realities, whose husband is entirely a man of the world, and requires her to be
of one taste with him, in all his amusements and pursuits.

Now can we conceive of anything more unfriendly to earnest, consistent,
advancing true religion, than these and many other situations which may be
easily imagined—and yet growth is required even here! "Growth!" exclaim some,
"why life is scarcely possible here. You may as soon expect pineapples to grow
in Antarctica, or roses to flourish amid the Polar ices, as think of true
religion thriving in such situations as these!" This is to miscalculate the
vital strength of true piety—and also the mighty power of God. I have known, and
many more have known it to flourish in all these circumstances. I remember the
case of a lady, who within the first month of her marriage with an ungodly
husband, was brought under concern about true religion, to which, all that time,
she had been a total stranger. And while engaged in all the round of those
festive parties and amusements which are customary in fashionable circles on
such occasions, had to struggle with this new concern recently awakened in her
heart, and subsequently with the opposition of her husband, and of her nearest
relatives. Yet, by the grace of God, her piety not only lived but flourished.

Still it shall be conceded that such situations are—for experience and
observation prove it—uncongenial with the growth of grace. It is difficult to
keep a standing there, much more to advance. But it is possible; and the very
possibility is encouraging. Consider how much is at stake—the soul, salvation,
heaven, eternity. Consider how much greater your condemnation will be, if having
once been awakened, you relapse again into a deadly slumber. Be duly aware,
then, of the difficulty of your situation, and even alarmed at it. Say to
yourselves, "How can I stand firm?" If you can alter your situation, it may be
well to do so—I advise it. You should not be self-confident, and say, "I can
trust myself. My mountain stands strong, I shall never be moved. I fear
nothing." Then I fear for you. Such a proud spirit is the precursor of a fall.
"Be not high-minded—but fear!" "Let him who thinks he stands, take heed lest he
fall." Flee, I say, flee if you can; that is, if your present situation be not
one of obvious duty, which leaves you no choice.

Some of the cases I have mentioned answer to this description, and leave you no
option. The daughter cannot in many instances leave her father’s house; nor can
the wife, the home of her husband. Where this occurs, let there be the most
earnest prayer to God for divine grace, and full unwavering faith in the Divine
promise. Let such people lay their case before the Lord, and remind him of their
peculiar need of his most gracious assistance. Let them open the ear of faith,
and hearken to his voice. "Fear not; for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I
am your God—I will strengthen you; yes, I will help you; yes, I will uphold you
with the right hand of my righteousness." Isaiah 41:10.

V. Among the hindrances to progress in true religion must be mentioned, is BAD
COMPANIONS. "He who walks with wise men shall be wise," says Solomon, "but a
companion of fools shall be destroyed." Proverbs 13:20. We take the tinge of our
character from our companions, and in return give back in brighter hue the color
of our own to them. We are all the ’contributors’ and ’recipients’ of
unconscious influence with those to whom we associate; just as healthy or
diseased subjects keep the atmosphere around them healthful or infectious. As,
therefore, we would preserve our spiritual health and promote our increase of
strength, let us avoid the society of those whose company and conversation are
unfriendly to piety. The strength of our convictions, the fixedness of our
habits, the clearness and settledness of our principles, and the firmness of our
resolutions, must in a great measure depend upon our associates. David said, "I
am a companion of all those who fear God and keep his statutes." As to the
choice of good and suitable companions as a means of progress, I have already
written in a former chapter—but now I speak of the avoidance of unsuitable
friendships, of such as would be a hindrance to it. And I would, with all the
emphasis it is possible to give to written language, implore the young professor
to be most anxiously and tremblingly concerned about this matter. It may happen
that now when first brought under concern about salvation, you may have
companions congenial with your former ungodly tastes; and some to whom you were
much attached—but who are still as regardless of true religion as you once were.
This is indeed a painful and perplexing situation, and will expose you to
considerable danger. You will find it difficult either to dissolve the ties of
friendship, or to maintain them without peril to your infantine religion. To
withdraw from those in whose society you have spent so many cheerful hours, will
be like cutting off a right hand, or plucking out a right eye. Well, and are not
these the terms of Christian discipleship? Why, in the times of persecution, the
saints were often called to surrender husbands or wives, parents or children,
for Christ’s sake; and can you not give up a friend? Will you risk your piety,
and jeopardize your soul—at the shrine of friendship? Do you not know that your
godly character must be distasteful to your former friends—and that their
pursuits and conversation are now distasteful, and actually injurious to you? Do
you not come from their society with your pious ardor damped, the spiritual
taste lowered, the devotional spirit impaired, and the conscience offended and
wounded by your sinking too deeply into the current of their conversation? Is it
not felt by you that there is one subject, and that the most momentous of all,
in reference to which you can have no sympathies and no conversation in common?
You must withdraw. It is come to this, that you must sacrifice your friends—or
your souls! Which shall it be?

We do not say that this should be abruptly, much less rudely or sanctimoniously
done. There must be nothing at all approaching to the "Stand aside—I am holier
than you." It might be well, first of all, by letter or personal communion, to
endeavor to influence your friends to adopt similar views to your own; to use
all the gentle and unassuming arts of affectionate persuasion, to induce them to
go with you in the ways of wisdom and the paths of peace. If you do not prevail,
then, after a full and fair trial to engage them in the bonds of a sacred
fellowship, with tenderness, and frankly stating your reasons—you must withdraw
from them. It may be a costly sacrifice—but it is a necessary one!

How much more forcibly does this apply to that one friend, who, above all
others, is dearest to your heart, and likely on that account to be more
influential over your character. Where this tender engagement has been formed
before conversion, it should be only a very hostile attitude against true
religion, which should induce you to dissolve the bond. In such a case there is
sometimes little trouble—for ’enmity against God’ goes far to extinguish ’love
towards man’, and the godly party is released by the ungodly party. But where no
close friendship of this nature has been formed, and the young professor is free
to choose or to receive—surely, surely, a due regard to the happiness of both
parties, the safety of the soul, the pursuit of salvation, the commands of
Scripture, and the glory of God—should lead to a determination never to form a
companionship, which is hostile to the interests of personal religion.

It is impossible to conceive of anything more likely to exert a deleterious and
destructive influence over incipient piety, than a cherished regard for, and an
avowed engagement to, a person who is a stranger to vital godliness. Even they
who have long been in the bands of matrimony and who after they have entered
them are brought under the power of godliness, find it difficult to maintain it,
in its vigor and consistency, against the hostile or even neutral influence of a
husband or a wife that has no sympathy with them in this most momentous of all
concerns. How much more unlikely is it that they who are in all the solicitudes,
the emotions, and the agitations of courtship, and that in connection with an
individual who has no godly sensibilities, can hold on their way and wax
stronger and stronger. It is by no means favorable to the cultivation of true
godliness, in its earliest stages, to have the mind occupied by a subject so
engrossing to the hearts of the people concerned, as courtship—even where it is
between people both of whom are partakers of true religion. How much more, then,
where this does not enter into the character and pursuits of one of the parties
concerned.

VI. The inconsistencies, shortcomings, or stationary condition of those who
already make, and perhaps have long made a profession of religion, are a great
impediment to the advance of those who are just beginning the Christian life.
There is a proneness, in judging of religion—to look at the conduct of those who
profess it—rather than to its own inspired records. Infidels do this, and also
those who wish to be freed from its obligation, and who for that end bring
against it the inconsistencies of its professors. Something like this operates
also on the minds of those who are beginning the Christian course. Instead of
studying their obligations in the Word of God, and taking all their ideas from
thence, and finding there the proper models of character; they look around upon
those Christians with whom they are acquainted, with a kind of tacit idea that
if they themselves are as holy, and earnest, and spiritual as these—this is all
that can be expected from they themselves. Yes, they imagine that they who are
so young in piety can hardly be supposed to be as holy, spiritual, and
earnest—as they who have been long in the way. And what do they see in these
older Christians, in whom at one time perhaps, they looked for an almost perfect
exhibition of spiritual excellence as the natural result of long experience and
rich advantages? Ah, what indeed? Oftentimes low attainments, prevailing
worldly-mindedness, unsanctified tempers, and general unloveliness of character!

Instead of resembling trees in the meridian of their age, lofty in stature,
spreading out their branches, rich in foliage, and laden with fruit—they see
stunted, almost branchless, leafless, and fruitless stocks, calling for the
gardener’s interdict, "Cut them down! Why allow them to cumber the ground?"
Others perhaps are not in so bad a condition as this—but still far from what our
Lord describes as "bearing much fruit, and so glorifying God." Here and there
they discover some one Christian, in an eminent degree growing like a cedar in
Lebanon, or flourishing like the palm-tree. But these are the exceptions, rather
than the rule. The young inquirer, therefore, instead of looking at the
exceptions, too often turns to the general rule, and secretly thinks that he can
hardly expect to be among the rarer instances of godliness, and contents himself
with possessing the average amount of it. There may be no actual, formal,
deliberate, making up his mind in this way, after general observation—but an
unconscious and unintentional influence of this kind comes over his mind.

It was only the day before this was written, a friend informed me of a case he
knew of a young female servant who was brought under the power of true religion,
and wishing to be in a situation favorable to the growth of her piety, she went
into a family professing godliness, where she hoped to find everything to foster
her early impressions. Perhaps, as is commonly the case, she expected too
much—all but perfection. But she saw so little like true religion in either
husband or wife—so much worldliness, and such an absence of everything to
encourage her in her recent impressions, that she found herself in almost as
much danger there, as in the place she left! It had nearly proved too much for
her weak faith, and she had well near returned again to her former state of
careless unconcern. However, by God’s grace, she was preserved from falling, and
afterwards recovered her standing and progress, though certainly not by any help
she gained from this worldly-minded couple whom she served.

Against the pernicious influence of bad example from professors—we must
earnestly caution the young disciples. They must not allow themselves to be
rendered slow in their pace, because others before them are so; nor to be
checked in their speed, either by a false modesty which would lead them to
conclude it would be presumption to progress beyond their seniors; nor by an
indolence which would but too easily lead them to be satisfied with keeping a
little behind them. No doubt it has sometimes happened that Satan has puffed up
the mind of some young ardent minds, when in all the fervor of their first love,
with vanity and conceit, so that they have become somewhat proud of their own
ardor, and unjustly censorious upon the lukewarmness of others. There cannot be
either a more unlovely or a more injurious disposition than for a person just
brought under the power of true religion, setting up himself as a public censor,
and dealing out with unsparing hand his judgements and reproaches upon the
characters and conduct of his neighbors. It is sufficiently offensive in
ordinary life to hear one who is little beyond a beardless youth becoming "Sir
Oracle," and presuming to judge and censure men old enough to be his father; but
it is still more disgusting to see this in reference to true religion; and we
would most seriously warn all young disciples against such a temper, and
admonish them to cultivate among other virtues, the love that "does not behave
rudely."

VII. There is another hindrance to progress, which in some periods of history,
and some external states of the Church of Christ, has been found fatally
successful in the case of thousands—I mean PERSECUTION.

Persecution has not ceased, and never will—as long as society is composed of
both the righteous and the wicked. The Apostle’s words will be found to be quite
true, "All who will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution." 2
Timothy 3:12. The essence of persecution lies in subjecting a person to injury,
pain of body or mind, or some inconvenience—on account of his religious opinions
or conduct, whether this be done by public unjust laws, or by private
ill-treatment. If a person be made the butt of ridicule or scorn by his
companions or others for his religion, he is persecuted, and is called to endure
cruel mockings and reproaches. Perhaps there is nothing more hard to bear than
this—no test of steadfastness more severe. A young man who becomes godly, if in
a large establishment, is sure to be the object of all kinds of unhallowed mirth
and sport, and if amid all he remains firm, inflexible, and constant—he is as
truly persecuted, as he who goes to prison. It is scarcely possible to conceive
of a harder trial of constancy than this. Many have given way. They could not
stand it; and have escaped the pitiless ’storm of ridicule’ by taking shelter in
apostasy. And where they have not altogether abandoned their religion, have "put
the candle under a bushel," and have so concealed their opinions and
feelings—that to others, they appeared to have given them up. This is as truly
denying Christ as open apostasy; and is the very case to which he alludes when
he says, "Whoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and
sinful generation, of him shall the Son of man be ashamed when he comes in the
glory of his Father with his holy angels." Mark 8:38. Christ will have no secret
disciples. He who has faith must confess it before men. Romans 10:9-11. In many
cases it may be well, where the opposition is too hard to be borne, to quit the
situation—though it is a noble instance of moral heroism to endure it bravely,
"strong in the Lord and in the power of his might." But there are other cases,
in some respects more trying than even this, I mean where a young person,
especially a female, becomes decided in spiritual religion in the midst of an
ungodly family; where not one is found to encourage her—and all oppose her! She
cannot do many things she once did without scruple or hesitation. Some of their
amusements offend her conscience, and she declines them. She is now considered
by her strictness—as condemning all the rest—and is reproached by all in the
family—as an accuser and reprover of the family. She is charged with being a
divider of the household, and as having introduced discord and strife. It is a
most trying situation for the object of persecution to endure the anger, and
meet the frowns of father and mother, brothers and sisters; to be considered and
reproached as the disturber of the peace of a once happy and united family—what
firmness of principle, what inflexibility of purpose, what martyr-like
constancy, what a power of divine grace does this require! And even where the
opposition is not so fierce as in either of these cases, it may be so
considerable as to be a great trial of constancy and a powerful hindrance to
progress. There may be the threatened withdrawment of patronage, favor,
friendship, or custom; and the mild admonition and the gentle entreaty—which are
a ’persecution of love’. How difficult to put aside all this and go on. Instead
of this, many are themselves turned aside and go back. Their courage fails,
their ’love of ease’ gains the ascendancy, and they surrender their convictions,
their hopes, their prospects—in short, their religion.

Let those who are thus tempted consider the consequences of giving up their
profession. Let them read with solemn awe the passages of Scripture already
quoted. For their encouragement let them take up their Bibles, and read our
Lord’s words in his sermon on the mount, Matthew 5:10-18. Let them also peruse
the beautiful language of the apostle, 1 Peter 2:19-24; 1 Peter 4:12-19; 2
Timothy 2:11-13; Hebrews 12:1-13. Let them wrestle with God for his grace to
assist them, and cast themselves upon his promised aid, expecting that he will
uphold them. It should be accounted by them an honor and a glory to suffer for
Christ. They should bear all with patience, meekness, and forgiveness. A quiet
and gentle sufferer will in most cases subdue even the hard-hearted oppressor.
There is a wondrous power in consistent and unvarying meekness. Let not
opposition then hinder you. Let your courage rise with your circumstances—and
your self-denial keep pace with both—and your humility and sense of dependence
upon God, deepen with the pressure of opposition upon your strength.

VII. A taste for WORLDLY AMUSEMENTS will inevitably prove, wherever it is
indulged, a powerful obstacle to growth in grace. Man is unquestionably made for
enjoyment. He has a capacity for bliss, an instinctive appetite for
gratification, and for this God has made ample provision of a healthful and
lawful kind. "A taste for worldly pleasure" means that this God-given capacity
is directed to wrong sources, or carried to an excess. Now there are some
amusements which in their very nature are so utterly incompatible with true
godliness, that a liking for them, and a hankering after them, and especially an
indulgence in them, cannot exist with real, earnest, and serious piety. The
dissolute parties of the glutton and the drunkard; the fervency for the
gambling-table; the pleasures of the race-course, and the performances of the
theater, are all of this kind. A taste for them is utterly uncongenial with a
spirit of godliness. So is a love for the gay and fashionable entertainments of
the ball-room, and the wanton parties of the upper classes.

These are all unfriendly to true religion, and are usually renounced by people
intent upon the momentous concerns of eternity. A love for them dies out from
the soul agitated and made anxious by the great question, "What shall I do to be
saved?" We would not doom to perdition all who are at any time found in this
round of worldly pleasure—but we unhesitatingly say, that a taste for them is
entirely opposed to the whole spirit of Christianity. They are all included in
that "world" which is overcome by faith and the new birth. True religion is,
though a happy, a very serious thing, and can no more live and flourish in the
heated atmosphere of those parties, than could a plant brought from the frigid
or temperate zone under the burning rays of a tropical sun. But in this
pleasure-loving, pleasure-seeking, and pleasure-inventing age, there is a great
variety of amusements perpetually rising up, which it would be impossible to say
are sinful, and therefore unlawful. Yet the supposition of their lawfulness
viewed in connection with their abundance, variety, and constant repetition, is
the very thing that makes them dangerous to the spirit of true religion. A taste
for even lawful worldly amusements, which leads its possessor to be fond of
them, seeking them, and longing for them, shows a mind that is in a very
doubtful state as to vital piety. It looks as if he had not yet entered into the
Savior’s words to the woman of Samaria, "Whoever drinks of this water shall
thirst again—but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him, shall never
thirst—but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water,
springing up into everlasting life." John 4:13-14. Now this thirsting after
worldly pleasure of any kind would seem as if the subject of it had not yet
drank of the living water from the well of salvation. This great concern after
even innocent worldly gratification seems to indicate that the peace which
passes all understanding had not yet taken possession of the soul; and this
inquiry, "Who will show us any good?" hardly comports with a mind that had said
to God, "Lord, lift up the light of your countenance upon us. You have put
gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their corn and their wine
increased." Psalms 4:6-7.

I do not like to be asked, as I sometimes am, the question, "whether such and
such amusements are compatible with true religion?" That is, I do not like it,
when it evidently proceeds from a prevailing wish to enjoy them, and a desire to
get ministerial sanction for indulging in them. It ought not to be necessary to
prove that many of these are unlawful, they should be found unnecessary. I am
aware that it is sometimes pleaded on behalf of worldly amusements by young
people, that abstinence from them represents piety as clothed with austerity—and
that religious people should go as far as they could in these things to disprove
the calumny. There is something perhaps in this; but it requires to be very
narrowly watched. For, without caution, see how far it would carry us. Those who
indulge in sinful pleasures which no religious person could ever engage in, may
say that all people must have a very melancholy religion who debar themselves of
their pleasures. So that an excessive repugnance to all amusements, and the
repugnance may, I concede, be excessive and almost ridiculous, should not be so
beaten down as to make way for a latitude which would be dangerous to personal
godliness. A Christian is not to partake of the pleasures of the world, merely
to prove that his religion does not debar him from enjoyment; but he is to let
it be seen by his "peace which passes understanding," and his "joy unspeakable
and full of glory," that his godliness gives far more enjoyment than it takes
away—that, in fact, it gives him the truest happiness. The way to win a worldly
person to true religion is not to go and partake of his amusements—but to prove
to him that we are happier with our pleasures—than he is with his; that we bask
in full sunshine while he has only a smoking candle; that we have found the
"river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne of God and
the Lamb," while he is drinking of the muddy streams which issue from the earth!

After all, it is freely admitted—

1. That true religion is not hostile to anything which is not hostile to it.

2. That many things which are not strictly pious, though not opposed to piety,
may be lawfully enjoyed by the Christian.

3. That what he has to do in this matter is not to practice total abstinence—but
"moderation".

4. Yet the Christian should remember how elastic a term "moderation" is, and to
be vigilant lest his moderation should continually increase its latitude, until
it has swelled into the imperial tyranny of an appetite which acknowledges no
authority—and submits to no restraint!


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  CHAPTER 70: 05.05.     HINDRANCES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS CONTD
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ADDRESS TO THE READER

If in an important mission, journey, or undertaking of any kind, you were
impeded in reference to the object contemplated, you would inquisitively and
anxiously search for the cause of delay, and never rest satisfied until you had
found and removed it. I am now supposing there is a hindrance of one or more
kinds to your progress towards heaven, to your increase of faith and holiness.
There are stones in the way, which must be removed, if you are to make progress
in your Christian pilgrimage. It is fearful to think of hindrances to heaven,
and impediments to holiness. If there were anything that hindered your health,
or prosperity in business, or the success of any earthly scheme—how earnestly
you would ask the question, "What is it? What is it?" How thankful you would be
to the friend who pointed it out, and how diligently you would set to work to
remove the impediment out of the way. Well, there are obstacles in your way to
Zion. You are hindered. You do not perhaps make progress. How is this?—I say to
you what the apostle did to the Galatians, "Who hindered you?" "What hindered
you?" Look back through this chapter; take up every particular; say of each, Is
it this, or that, which stops my progress? I ask you, and I implore you to ask
yourself— Is it indifference to the spiritual growth? Is it the unsubdued
corruption of your nature, left to itself, unresisted, unmortified? Is it a
besetting sin? Is it the peculiarity of your situation being unfriendly to a
life of piety? Is it unsuitable companionship? Is it the inconsistencies of
professing Christians? Is it a taste for worldly amusements. Is it persecution?

Examine, I beseech you, examine, what it is that arrests you in your course—and
take it away! Again I say, "Remove the stones!" "Let us throw off everything
that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with
perseverance the race marked out for us!" Hebrews 12:1


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  CHAPTER 71: 05.06.     MOTIVES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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MOTIVES TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS

It might be supposed, that ’progress’ would be its own motive. Who need to be
admonished to proceed in a course on which they have entered, which leads to
wealth? Do the men who have gone to the gold fields, and who have begun to find
the precious metal, need to be stimulated to go forward? And yet we do find that
even in relation to some earthly objects of pursuit, and valuable ones, too,
where self-denial, sacrifice, and surrender of present gratification for future
benefit is required—much persuasion is sometimes necessary to keep the person in
continuous exertion for the attainment of the desired good. If he has lost his
health by excess in the indulgence of appetite, either in the way of eating,
drinking, or any other lust of the flesh, and by medicine and moderate diet and
other restraints, he is beginning to recover, how necessary in some cases, is
perpetual exhortation, to induce him to refrain from excess, and to persevere in
the denial of his appetite. How earnest we must be in setting before him all the
motives which ought to have weight with him in leading him to abstain from
whatever is injurious to his health. So is it in true religion. A person just
commencing his attention to this momentous concern has so many hindrances both
from within and without to stop his progress, that he needs to be urged forward
by the voice of affectionate entreaty. He must be appealed to by all that can be
brought to bear upon his judgment, heart, and conscience. He is like a man just
awaking out of a deep and heavy slumber, about whom the drowsiness still hangs,
and who is strongly inclined to fall back again upon his pillow and relapse into
stupor. You must speak loudly to him, and even shake him with some degree of
violence, and compel him to rouse himself and keep himself awake. Such is really
the condition of a recently awakened sinner. I now therefore present the motives
which apply to his case for making progress.

I. The first motive to Christian progress is the DANGER OF DECLENSION. I may
even add to this the proneness to declension. The progress of the sinner is like
that of a stone rolling down hill, which has a continual tendency to go by
itself, and by every revolution to increase its speed and momentum—that of a
believer is the progress of a stone up hill, which has not only a considerable
force to be overcome by great effort—but which when this effort is suspended,
tends to roll back again. The stone in either case does not, cannot stand
still—but by the laws of matter and motion must keep going backward, unless
prevented by actual effort. This is impressive, and deserves very serious
consideration. If the young disciple does not advance, he will in all
probability go backward.

Declension after we have once made a profession, or have been awakened to
solicitude, is really a very fearful thing. It is most affecting and alarming to
see a person once deeply convinced of sin, seriously anxious about salvation,
professedly obtaining peace through faith in Christ, and commencing a course of
practical godliness—either falling again into sin or sinking into predominant
worldliness. Has not this sad spectacle been often witnessed? Have we not seen
this in people who at one time seemed to have such love to Christ that it might
have been fitly called the love of their espousals? They scarcely wished for any
other pleasure than that which was enjoyed in communion with Jesus and with his
saints; his name was as ointment poured forth; and they loved his very image.
The exercises of private prayer, the perusal of the Holy Scriptures, and the
public ordinances of the sanctuary were waited for with eager expectation. The
company of those only who were like-minded was selected, and the promotion of
the cause of God was the enterprise which most interested them. They had often
made solemn resolutions before the Lord, and had often said, "Your vows, O God,
are upon me." And what, and where were they afterwards? Alas, how changed! All
their former resolutions were broken, and all their habits changed. Their first
love subsided into lukewarmness, and at last into absolute coldness and
indifference. Prayer was omitted; public worship neglected; the Bible never
opened; the company of the saints forsaken; the love of pleasure gained the
ascendancy; and in some cases, open sins that had been forsaken, were again
practiced! The poor backslider himself sometimes has conscience enough left to
be made miserable by its reproaches and stings, while they who had formerly
known him in his better days, lament over his change, and exclaim in bitterness
of heart, "Alas, how fallen!" The sins of such a person have peculiar
aggravations. They are committed after the most solemn vows and engagements; and
against clearer light. They are without any provocation on the part of God.
"What iniquity," said God to the Jews, "have your fathers found in me that they
are gone far from me?" Jeremiah 2:5. A question which is addressed also to every
backslider, and which ought to cut him to the very soul, and stir every spring
of sensibility and self-abhorrence. Did the backslider find him a hard Master?
Was the way of obedience a rugged path, through a barren wilderness and a land
of drought? Sins after profession are attended with circumstances of peculiar
and horrid ingratitude. After God has poured out upon us his Spirit, taken us by
the hand, and led us to repentance and the beginning of a religious course—then
to turn away from him, and refuse any longer to be under his guidance—how basely
thankless is all this!

Such departures from God are expressive of the most extreme folly, as well as
wickedness. They who commit them, once professed to be happy in serving the
Lord. They had seemed to have found rest in Christ. They were no longer running
up and down in the world, saying, "Who will show us any good," but had found
happiness in true religion. Their judgment was convinced; their heart was
satisfied; their conscience was quiet; their whole soul was at peace. But now by
turning back again to sin or to the world, they cast all this away! And they
cannot now enjoy the pleasures of sin or the world as they once did. They now
sometimes feel they have made a foolish bargain, and have exchanged liberty for
drudgery and slavery; fears of conscience for bitter remorse; joyfulness of
heart for sorrow and anguish. It is a being weary of the government of the
Prince of peace, whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light—and putting their
necks under the iron yoke of Satan, which crushes them to destruction!

Such conduct also causes the ways of godliness to be spoken ill of. It has the
same effect upon many as the ill report of the spies who were sent to survey the
land of Canaan, which discouraged the people, caused them to murmur and rebel,
and was the occasion of their perishing in the wilderness. The backslider thus
perpetrates a double mischief—his conduct is infectious and tends to corrupt
those who already believe, while it discourages those who do not. It says to
them, "I have tried the paths of wisdom, and do not find her paths as I was told
and expected—to be paths of pleasantness and peace." This is a fearful
contradiction of God’s word, a dreadful calumny upon true religion, and in
effect an ungodly blasphemy against God. Such is the sin of declension and
backsliding, and if it goes on to apostasy, then how fearful! Read what the
apostle has said on this subject. Hebrews 6:5-9. Let every young disciple turn
to the passage, read the words, and tremble. And no less solemn is the language
of the apostle Peter, 2 Peter 2:21-22

It is not only possible—but probable, that some who shall read this work, will
be found by it in various stages of declension already. Some who have
consciousness enough of their situation, and even occasional regret enough to
borrow the poet’s lament–

"Where is the blessedness I knew When first I saw the Lord; Where is the
soul-refreshing view Of Jesus and his Word?

"What peaceful hours I once enjoyed, How sweet their memory still; But they have
left an aching void The world can never fill." To such I would say, instantly
take alarm and tremble at your danger! Let the words of God sound like thunder
in your ears, "If any man draws back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him!" He
will be a man whom God ceases to regard with approbation. His displeasure,
instead of his delight, rests upon him. He marks every footstep backward with
reproach and disgust. Can you bear to think of this? "Can your heart endure and
your hands be strong" in such a situation? Perhaps the declension is yet slight,
only like a speck of disease, like the beginning of consumption, curable if
taken in time—but fatal if allowed to go on to after-stages. But in whatever
degree the declension may have taken place, it should excite solicitude and lead
to immediate efforts for recovery. The counsel delivered by our Lord to the
church at Ephesus should be hearkened to with solemnity, and followed without
delay; "Remember from whence you are fallen, and repent and do your first
works." It is not enough to know that you are declining; nor merely to lament
it. Complaining alone will not effect a cure. We may sigh and go backward to the
last period of our lives. Our chief solicitude must be to recover lost ground.
In order to this there must be deep contrition and profound humiliation before
God. In such a state we must begin as we did originally, with conviction of sin.
The backslider must return through the valley of humiliation. There is no other
way back for the wanderer. It will be well to inquire diligently after the cause
of the declension. What was it that led you astray? Here begin in the way of
return. The point where you left the road, is of course the point at which you
must return to it. If it were a sin of neglect, instantly take up the omitted
duty. If it were a sin of evil practice, immediately put it away.

It will perhaps be somewhat difficult to recover your standing; for as we have
said, declension is a down-hill progress—but the way of return is all up-hill.
You will perhaps be ashamed, afraid, and somewhat reluctant, to go back. He who
ungratefully and ungenerously leaves a friend, feels some shyness and
backwardness to return, and say, "I have sinned, forgive me?" So is it with the
backslider towards God. But mark his love, where, even to backsliding Israel,
who had so often gone away from him, he said, "O Israel, return unto the Lord
your God; for you have fallen by your iniquity. Take with you words, and turn to
the Lord—say unto him, take away all iniquity, and receive us graciously—so will
we render the offerings of our lips. I will heal their backsliding, I will love
them freely—for my anger is turned away from him." Hosea 14:1-2, Hosea 14:4. And
to convince you how ready God is to receive you, let me refer you to that
wonderfully pathetic passage, where God is represented as a loving father,
overhearing the confession and lamentation of his penitent child, and lavishing
upon him the fondness of his paternal heart. Jeremiah 31:18-20. What heart can
stand out against the melting pathos of this wonderful passage? What backslider
need now fear to return to the Lord?

II. It should be most impressively felt that spiritual progress is COMMANDED and
EXPECTED by God. We now refer you back to the commands which are given in the
second chapter; and would especially fix your attention on those which enjoin
you to seek after perfection. This is a subject which a young Christian should
thoroughly understand—but which few do either understand or consider.
Misconceptions on this subject are fatal to growth. The verb, "be perfect," and
the noun, "perfection," are of such frequent occurrence in the New Testament,
that the subject to which they refer ought to engage the close and serious
attention of every professing Christian. There can be no doubt that these terms
are sometimes employed by the sacred writers in a comparative sense, as
signifying high degrees, eminence, or completeness of parts. In Hebrews 6:1,
perfection signifies the more sublime, enlarged, spiritual, and complete views
of Christian doctrine, as opposed to first principles. In 1 Corinthians 2:6, and
Php 3:15, "to be perfect," means to be far advanced in knowledge. But there are
other places where it is unquestionably to be understood in its unqualified
sense, as intending absolute and sinless perfection, such are 2 Corinthians 7:1.
"Having therefore these promises, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from
all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God."
So again Hebrews 13:21, "Make you perfect in every good work." There can be no
doubt that in these passages the apostle means entire freedom from sin, an
absolutely spotless holiness.

"The apostle does not say," to quote the comment of Barnes, "that this
perfection has ever been attained, or is attainable, in this world; nor does he
say that it has not been. He only urges the obligation to make an effort to be
entirely holy; and this obligation is not affected by the inquiry whether any
one has been, or has not been, perfect. It is an obligation which results from
the nature of the law of God, and his unchangeable claims upon the soul. The
fact that no one has been perfect does not relax the claim; the fact that no one
will be perfect in this life, does not weaken the obligation—it proves only the
deep and dreadful depravity of the human heart, and should humble us under the
stubbornness of our sin and guilt. The obligation to be perfect is one that is
eternal and unchangeable. The unceasing and steady aim of every Christian should
be perfection: perfection in all things—in the love of God, of Christ, of man;
perfection of feeling, words, and plans, and dealings with man; perfection in
prayers and submission to the will of God. No man can be a Christian who does
not sincerely desire it, and who does not constantly aim at it. No man is a
friend of God who can acquiesce in a state of sin, and who is satisfied and
contented that he is not as holy as God is holy. And any man who has no desire
to be perfect as God is, and who does not make it his daily study and constant
aim to be perfect as God is perfect, may set it down as demonstratively certain,
that he has no true religion. How can a man be a Christian who is willing to
acquiesce in a state of sin, and who does not desire to be just like his Master
and Lord?" This is strong and impressive language, and requires the very devout,
serious, and solemn consideration of all who are beginning the divine life, as
showing them what is to be their aim, their study, and their endeavor—even to be
perfect in every good work. Young converts see no perfection in others; they
hear it said by Christians there is no perfection; they feel none in themselves;
and therefore never dream that it is their duty to seek after it; and thus
conciliating themselves to all kinds and degrees of imperfections, begin and
continue with a very low state of piety.

I believe that infinite mischief is done to the souls of men; that the
profession of godliness is much disparaged and dishonored—and the luster of the
church dimmed; by a prevalent forgetfulness, and in some quarters a denial, that
it is our duty to go on unto perfection. Many are tolerating all kinds and
degrees of imperfection, under the plea that none are absolutely perfect. Young
disciples have been taught as one of their first lessons in theology, that since
absolute perfection is not attained in this life, it is useless to seek after
it, and that they may be very good Christians, even while indulging many known
corruptions.

I would not for the world be misunderstood; I would not break the bruised reed,
nor quench the smoking flax. I would not say anything to cast a stumbling-block
in the way of the feeblest lamb in all the flock of Christ; and yet I would be
equally solicitous to guard them against self-deception. What I say then, is
this—not that all imperfections are evidence of an unconverted state—but that
the intentional indulgence of them, knowing them to be such, under the notion
that a great amount of imperfection is compatible with a state of grace, is an
evidence of an unconverted state. Not that the possession of perfection is
essential as an evidence of sincerity—but a desire and pursuit after perfection.

III. Christian Progress is a bright evidence of sincerity. Growth, as we have
already remarked, is the proof of life. Dead things do not grow. There are few
minds among professors of religion in which the question does not, and none in
which it ought not, with deep anxiety, sometimes to arise, "Am I, or am I not, a
child of God?"

Now surely the transition from death to life; the change from an unregenerate to
a converted state; the ceasing to be an enemy to God by wicked works, and
becoming his child by filial love and obedience, cannot be a change of so
trivial, superficial, and indistinguishable a nature as not to be ascertained
without great difficulty. It might be supposed to be easily recognized where it
really exists. True it is, that the change is in some cases more marked than in
others. Where the conversion is sudden, and is a turning from actual vice, or
awful infidelity, or even from flagrant heresy—it is more apparent, and more
easily determined by consciousness, than where it is the gradual formation of
religious character in people previously correct in their general conduct, and
brought up under religious instruction. It is in these latter cases that doubts
and fears about sincerity must be expected more frequently and painfully to
occur. It is, therefore, in these cases that progress is indispensable as an
evidence of sincerity. For it must be recollected that even in these, growth is
as essential to life as in the others.

Grace never finds in nature a subject for which there is need of little to be
done. There may be very beautiful wild flowers blooming, or very good fruits
growing in the wilderness, yet even these can be carried on to much higher
beauty, and much richer flavor, by the culture of the greenhouse and the
hothouse. When the young disciple can say, "True, I have not to compare, as the
effect of God’s converting grace, a virtuous with a wicked life. I have not to
contrast a present godly belief with a former blaspheming infidelity. But I find
an increasing loosening from many of my former tastes. The love of worldly
pleasure, which even at my commencement of a religious life was strong in me, is
evidently weakened; and I find piety more and more the source of my happiness.
If a growing conscientiousness to avoid little sins, and to practice small
duties, be a proof of sincerity, I rejoice to say I have this. As regards
besetting sins, I have reason to believe these are far more mortified than they
were, and temptations to them have less power over me. My temper, once so
irritable and impetuous, is subdued; and I find it more easy to govern my
tongue. My prejudices towards those who differ from me in religious opinions
have been softened by the influence of Christian charity. If these things be
evidence of sincerity, I am no self-deceiver; for I can certainly perceive in
myself these marks of progress."

Here I will present a passage of Holy Scripture, which it is of importance every
young disciple should "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest." The apostle
Peter thus exhorts, "therefore, brethren, give diligence to make your calling
and election sure." 2 Peter 1:10. The things to be made sure are our "calling
and election." God’s choice of us, manifested by his converting us; in other
words, our spiritual character and spiritual safety. To make this sure, or
certain, cannot have reference to God, for no act of ours can make more certain
anything he does. Nor can it refer to the things themselves, for if a man be
really chosen and called of God, nothing that he can do, can make these more
certain. It must therefore refer to ourselves. God treats us as rational and
moral agents, and what may be absolutely certain in his mind, from his mere
purpose that it shall be so—is to be proved to us only by evidence and the free
exercise of our own powers. The meaning therefore of this passage is, that we
are to obtain evidence that this is our condition. And how are we to obtain it?
The celebrated Cudworth, in his sermon on the text, "Hereby do we know that we
know him if we keep his commandments," has the following remarks upon the
passage from Peter, which I am now considering, "He who builds all his comfort
upon an ungrounded persuasion that God from all eternity has loved him, and
absolutely decreed him to life and happiness, and seeks not for God really
dwelling in his soul—builds his house upon a quicksand, and it shall suddenly
sink and be swallowed up. We are nowhere commanded to pry into these secrets—but
the wholesome counsel and advice given us is this, ’to make our calling and
election sure.’ We have no warrant in Scripture to peep into these hidden rolls
and volumes of eternity, and to make it the first thing we do, when we come to
Christ—to spell out our names in the stars, and to persuade ourselves that we
are certainly elected to everlasting happiness, before we see the image of God
in righteousness and true holiness shaped in our hearts. God’s everlasting
decree is too dazzling and bright an object for us at first to set our eyes
upon. It is far easier and safer for us to look upon the rays of his goodness
and holiness, as they are reflected in our hearts, and there to read the mild
and gentle characters of God’s love to us, in our love to him, and our hearty
compliance with Heaven’s will; as it is safer for us, if we would see the sun,
to look upon it’s reflection here below in a pail of water, than to cast up our
daring eyes to the body of the sun itself, which is too radiant and scorching
for us. The best assurance anyone can have of his interest in God, is doubtless
the conformity of his soul to God. When our heart is once turned into a
conformity with the mind of God; when we feel our will conformed to his will, we
shall then presently perceive a spirit of adoption within ourselves, teaching us
to say Abba, Father. We shall not then care for peeping into those hidden
records of eternity, to see whether our names are written there in golden
characters; no, we shall find a copy of God’s thoughts concerning us written in
our own breasts. There we may read the character of his favor towards us; there
we may feel an inward sense of his love to us, flowing out of our hearty and
sincere love to him. And we shall be more undoubtedly persuaded of it, than if
any of those winged watchers above, that are prying to heaven’s secrets, should
come and tell us that they saw our names enrolled in those volumes of eternity."

IV. Christian Progress is its own reward. From what wretchedness is the
advancing Christian protected. He has not the unhappiness which in many, if not
in most cases, declension brings upon its subject. But as pain is still a sign
of life, though a suffering one, even this is better than the insensibility of
death. In the case just mentioned, the individual still retains some
considerable tenderness of conscience, some religious sensibility, without being
supposed to be hankering after the amusements of the world. But I am now
speaking of those who are almost entirely dead to godly feelings, and strongly
inclined to gaiety, yet in some measure held in check by the last lingering
remains of true religion. They are still professors—but find their profession
only a clog and a hindrance to their pleasures. They see its inconsistency with
their tastes and occasional enjoyments, and find it as a ’drop of bitter’ in
their cup of gratification. Sometimes they wish they had never made a profession
of religion. They are morose and ill-tempered with themselves forever thinking
of being Christians, and until they are led to abandon it altogether, which at
length they are brought to do, they are checked by it, much to their annoyance,
in their course. This is a wretched state of mind, it spoils its possessor both
for the world and for true religion. But these are only the negative side of the
pleasure of growth—we turn therefore to the positive. And here we would remark,
that progress in anything on which we have set our hearts, is always
agreeable—and this applies especially to true religion. Viewed in its true
nature, it unites the highest dignity with the purest pleasure. The ways of
godliness are ways, not only of pleasure and paths of peace—but of honor and
renown. Can anything be loftier, nobler, sublimer, than a growing conformity to
the image of God? To see a stronger and a stronger resemblance to God in our
soul? To behold the moral attributes of the Divine nature fixed with a deeper
and a deeper coloring on the character—what to this is the pleasure of the
artist in seeing the correct likeness of some great monarch, or some wonderful
genius, growing under his hand upon the canvas? How exalted is the pleasure of
true piety—it is the bliss of angels, the happiness of spirits made perfect,
yes, the joy of God’s own heart. It is enjoyed under the smile of conscience,
and conscience is undoubtedly the great repository and storehouse of all those
pleasures that can afford any solid refreshment to the soul. When the conscience
is calm, serene, and smiling, then the man perfectly enjoys all things—and what
is more, himself; for the conscience is calm, serene, and smiling—before he can
enjoy anything else. Godliness is a pleasure that never satiates nor wearies.
Can the lover of worldly pleasure say this? With him how short is the interval
between a pleasure—and a burden. But we may descend to a few details. How
delightful is it to grow in KNOWLEDGE. With what a passion for this are some
minds possessed. And if such be the value of secular knowledge, how much greater
the worth of that which is divine. Can anything be more delightful than to be
ever finding out some new meanings, some fresh beauties in the Word of God? For
the spiritual astronomer to discover some new star in the skies of inspiration;
or for the spiritual botanist to come upon some new flower in the fields of
revelation? But take also the trio of graces set forth by the apostle—FAITH,
HOPE, LOVE—and here again we say, to grow in each and all of these is to advance
in happiness. FAITH is the first source of all true joy to the Christian. "In
whom believing," says the apostle, "we rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of
glory." Faith looks abroad upon the whole field of revelation, in all of whose
facts, doctrines, precepts, invitations, and promises, it finds so many various
objects of delight. But it concentrates its attention on Christ and heaven. It
looks with wonder, gratitude, and love, on the cross, and then passes on with
similar feelings to the crown of glory. To grow in faith is therefore to grow in
bliss, and to put up the prayer, "Lord, increase our faith," is only in other
words to say, "Lord, increase our happiness." Here we see the reason why so many
professing Christians go mourning all their days—their faith is so weak—and it
is of momentous consequence for every young Christian at his very outset in the
divine life to understand that faith is the branch, of which joy is the blossom,
and holiness the fruit.

Much the same strain of remark may be made in reference to HOPE. It is easy to
see that all hope must be pleasant from its very nature. This is the case with
even worldly expectations. Poets have sung "The Pleasures of Hope," and
experience has justified and echoed the strain. The apostle in describing the
Christian state of mind in reference to this object, speaks of it as "Rejoicing
in hope." Romans 12:12. Which is but a repetition of what he had said before,
"And rejoice in hope of the glory of God."

LOVE is another of the component parts of true religion mentioned by the
apostle, to advance in which is to advance in happiness. God is love, and He is
also the blessed God; and He is the blessed God, because He is love. It is
impossible it should be otherwise. All the malevolent feelings are productive of
misery to the subject of them. For this reason, Satan, whose nature is unmixed
malignity, must be the subject of unmixed misery. No happiness can dwell in that
bosom from which all benevolence is expelled; while no misery can be found in
that bosom from which all malevolence is cast out. Perfect love casts out, not
only fear—but wretchedness. Let anyone read the description of love in the
epistle to the Corinthians, and say if the grace there described must not
contain the very elements of bliss. And is not growth in HOLINESS equally
delightful? Holiness is our spiritual health, as sin is our disease. How
beautiful and how well worthy our attention and adoption for ourselves was the
prayer of the apostle for Gaius, "Beloved, I wish above all things that you may
prosper and be in health, even as your soul prospers. Health, and especially
growing health, is one of the most delightful sensations we can experience. To
feel the tide of energy flow back to its forsaken channel; and the depressed
frame become, amid the beauties of nature and the breezes of heaven, more and
more buoyant, the step more elastic, the appetite more keen, and the power of
exertion more vigorous. This is to experience in some cases almost a type of the
resurrection. But even this does not equal the joy of growing in grace, of
returning and increasing spiritual health.

V. Christian progress adds to the credit and redounds to the honor of true
religion generally. The world expects that increase is one part of the
Christian’s duty and profession. Our phraseology and the language of Scripture
are well known to those who are not godly, and who make no pretensions to be so.
They hear us preach, and pray, and talk—about growth in grace; about our light
shining more and more unto the perfect day; about our running the Christian
race; and other matters of a like kind. They very naturally take us at our word,
and knowing that all these figures of speech import progress, they look for it,
and expect to see it, and are disappointed if they do not see it. When they
observe those inconsistencies, which prove that we are either not going
forward—but ever going back, they taunt us with the sarcasm, "Where is your
advancement?" "Is this your growth?" "Is it thus you improve?" In all other
matters, or most others, they do see progress in this world’s affairs—and ought
to see it in true religion. It adds to the credit of any system of medical
practice, or of any individual practitioner, when under their treatment the
health of the patient is restored. It also it redounds to the honor of a
school-master or a teacher of any kind when his pupils make great and rapid
advance in what they are taught. While on the contrary, it discredits both of
these, when there is no improvement. And it must be the same with true religion!

Yet is there no occasion given by the conduct of many, for some such reflections
on the part of worldly people as these, "Every system which professes to lead
onward those who are under it, proves its excellence for this purpose, by its
results. And in most we do see a manifest advance in those who place themselves
under it. We see boys growing in knowledge at school; apprentices advancing in
acquaintance with their business; and young tradesmen becoming more and more
clever in secular affairs. It ought, of course, to be so in true religion. The
people who profess it, have the Bible in their own hands; they go to church or
chapel every Sunday with great regularity; they take the sacrament; and in many
other things make great ado about their religion. Now with all these means,
opportunities, and advantages, for personal improvement and spiritual
culture—what exemplary people ought they to be. These people tell us that it is
one of their principles to grow in grace. What evident, conspicuous improvement
ought therefore to be seen in them? And yet, real godliness seems to be almost
the only thing in which men do not make progress, if we may judge by their
conduct. What increase of knowledge may take place in their minds we cannot
tell; nor how often they pray in their families or in their closets—but forming
our opinions by their outward conduct and visible character, their light of
holiness does not shine brighter and brighter before men. We have known some of
them many years, and have watched them closely, though not unfairly, much less
malignantly—but we must confess we see very little, if any improvement in them.
No, in some things, they have even gone back, and are worse than they were when
they first made a profession of religion."

Dreadful reproach! Alas, alas, how just in application to some, as well as
dreadful! Let it be the deep solicitude of everyone who has the least regard for
the honor and credit of the gospel, to roll this reproach away, by presenting a
character in which all the beauties of holiness shall be continually coming out
in bolder and more striking relief. How would it raise not only the gospel—but
the church of Christ, in public estimation, if men looked up to it as a school
where the pupils were ever studying how to advance in all that can make them
acceptable to God, and useful to man. What reverence would it secure for the
minister of the gospel, and what respect for his ministrations, if by him and by
others, it were seen that all who profess to have been converted by his
preaching, were beheld engaged in an arduous struggle against all that is evil,
and continually making attainments in all that is good.

VI. And is it not a powerful motive to grow in grace—to consider that our
present attainments in true religion, have a connection with, and will have an
influence upon, our heavenly and eternal state. There is a much closer relation
between our present selves in this world, and our future selves in the next—than
most people are aware of. "What a man sows, that shall he also reap," both in
quality and quantity. It is not possible to set out in the Christian profession
with a more instructive or impressive idea than this—life is the seed time for
eternity. It is a common way to think of heaven and hell, as if they were two
states where all are equally happy in the one, or miserable in the other;
whatever may have been their attainments in holiness, or their deeds of
wickedness. That all the righteous will be in heaven, and that all will be
perfectly happy there, is quite true. As regards the general sources of heavenly
felicity, these will be open alike to all; but this does not suppose that in
many particulars, there will not be an endless variety.

We know too little of the future state to specify these matters; we walk by
faith. "It does not yet appear what we shall be." There are, no doubt,
innumerable sources of delight, and varieties of employment, of which we can now
form no more conception than we can of the exercises and pleasures of a sixth
sense. There may, and in all probability will be social gradations of rank;
diversities of post, place, and service; and higher and lower degrees of
honorable distinction. For these a proportionate and diversified fitness may be
required. One man may be more qualified for some high place and honorable
service in the heavenly world than another; and that which constitutes the
qualification for this higher place, may be, not so much great intellectual
powers in our earthly state—but more eminent piety. It is not the man of large
yet unsanctified understanding, that is qualified for heaven—but the man of
sanctified heart. It is moral and spiritual excellence that is the fitness for
the inheritance of the saints in light. And whatever may be the measure of his
intellectual capacity, he is the most fit for heaven, who is most holy. If this
be true, many an eminently holy peasant or common laborer, will be higher in
glory than the less holy philosopher or scholar; and many a youthful Christian
cut off in the morning of his days—but carried away in the full blossom of
distinguished piety, be found more qualified to serve God in some high place
above, than the aged professor of low and small degrees of personal godliness.
Is it to be conceived God will deal out the same commendation upon the very
feeble and too worldly-minded professor, who may be after all a sincere
Christian—as upon the spiritually-minded, heavenly, self-denying, and consistent
Christian? But the sources of our heavenly bliss will not be all from
without—but also from within. Even on earth, "a good man is satisfied from
himself." He carries, in his holy dispositions, the springs of his own felicity
about with him. And so will it be in heaven. It is not only where, and with
whom, we shall be—but what we shall be, that will make us happy. And eminent
piety here will, in all likelihood, prepare us for a larger capacity of holiness
and happiness there. The holiness and happiness of the least saint in heaven
will be as perfect as that of the highest archangel, or the chief of the
apostles—but the capacity for this perfection may, and must be, immeasurably
larger in the one case than the other! A teacup may be as full to overflowing as
a cistern, yet how much greater is the fullness in the one case than in the
other? Here then is the connection not only of a state of grace—but of the
actings of grace, with a state of glory. It is not only that one leads to the
other; not only that one prepares for the other; but that one is proportionate
to the other. It is probable that there is not one holy act, or motive, or
desire, or volition of our whole lives, that has not some bearing upon our
eternal character and happiness. God deals with us as regards the eternal world,
not only according to our state, whether we are righteous or wicked—but
according to our actings in that state.

ADDRESS TO THE READER Is your heart susceptible of the power of a motive in
anything? Is there anything below or above the skies that motivates you? Do you
really know what a motive means? If so, surely, surely, you must feel the force
of these I have now presented. Must not the stone of an unrenewed heart remain
in your soul—if you are insensible to the power and attractions of these
inducements? If these things fail to impress you and impel you, you would remain
stationary and indifferent beneath a voice or a vision from heaven, or a
messenger from the burning pit. If these things do not stimulate you, I would
despair of the power of an angel’s harp or a demon’s groan. After reading these
pages, are you at all excited to desire to advance? Say, does the fire kindle,
does the glow diffuse throughout your soul at the idea of what is here
presented? If not, let me try again, not by new motives—but by recalling those
which are here enumerated. Does not the dread of declension, backsliding,
apostasy, terrify you? Shall not the command of God impel you? Will not the hope
of gaining a sweet and blessed evidence of salvation, lead you to seek after
progress? Does not the experience you have already had, though it may be in a
small degree, of the reward which advancement yields—induce you to go forward?
And then what shall be said of the fact that our degrees of grace will regulate
our degrees of glory? Has this no motive power for your soul? What! are you so
dull, so earthly, so insensible to the felicities, honors, and distinctions of
heaven—as to feel little holy ambition to have some high place there?


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  CHAPTER 72: 05.07.     ENCOURAGEMENTS TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS
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ENCOURAGEMENTS TO CHRISTIAN PROGRESS

There is, perhaps, no greater hindrance on the part of some than a desponding
fear of ever making progress in the divine life. They see so much in themselves
that is imperfect—such ignorance, such corruption, such lukewarmness; so much in
their situation and circumstances that is opposed to their advancement; so much
of stagnancy or declension in others, that seems to render it unlikely that they
shall succeed better than their friends and acquaintances; so much that renders
it useless, as they suppose, for them ever to wish for progress—that they give
it up in despondency. "Ah," they say, "it is indeed a desirable thing to grow in
grace. Happy are they who can realize so covetable a condition of soul. I often
long for it—but it is with the wishes of one who sees the object of his desire
immeasurably above his reach. I sometimes sigh amid my low attainments in
knowledge, faith, joy, and holiness, and pant for better things; but I end as I
began, in desponding lamentations. I seem forbidden to hope for improvement."
Forbidden! By whom? Certainly not by God. Discouraged! Why? Let your despondency
yield to the following considerations.

I. To those who are really concerned about Christian progress, the SCRIPTURE is
full of encouragement. How confident is the language of Job amid all his
sorrows. "The righteous shall hold on his way, and he who has clean hands shall
grow stronger and stronger." Job 17:9. Here is not only continuance, but
progress. "Clean hands" are designed to denote a holy life. Among the ancient
people of God, they were regarded as indicative of purity of heart. So that the
language of Job is an assurance that a holy man would become still more holy.
His very practice of righteousness tends to establish him in his way, to confirm
his principles, and make that easy by habit, which is enjoined as duty. Piety,
like everything else, strengthens by exercise.

How beautiful is the language of the Psalmist, "But the godly will flourish like
palm trees and grow strong like the cedars of Lebanon. For they are transplanted
into the Lord’s own house. They flourish in the courts of our God. Even in old
age they will still produce fruit; they will remain vital and flourishing."
Psalms 92:12-14. The palm tree is indigenous to tropical and other warm
climates. It grows to a considerable height and size, and presents a beautiful
appearance. Its fruits, which are called dates, are much valued and are eaten
both fresh and preserved, and are also pressed for syrup and wine. But it is not
for its fruit alone that the palm tree is so valuable. From the boughs, which
are yearly lopped off from the lower parts of the stem, are made baskets, bird
cages, ropes, and sacks; from the leaves are made mattresses, sandals, etc. It
is an evergreen, and lives to an extreme old age—the wood is durable and much
used. How striking an emblem of a godly man. He shall flourish like the palm
tree. The cedar was considered by the Hebrews as the monarch of the vegetable
world, on account of its magnitude, majesty, the number and extent of its
boughs, and the durability of its wood, which was so remarkable that some
supposed it to be incorruptible. Moreover everything about the cedar has a
strong balsamic odor, and hence the whole forest is so perfumed with fragrance
that a walk through it is delightful. Mount Lebanon was in ancient times covered
with forests of cedars, of which however there are now only few remains. Again
we say to the Christian, Behold your emblem. "He shall grow like a cedar in
Lebanon."

Similar to this representation is the extraordinarily picturesque language which
we find in the book of Hosea, "I will be to Israel like a refreshing dew from
heaven. It will blossom like the lily; it will send roots deep into the soil
like the cedars in Lebanon. Its branches will spread out like those of beautiful
olive trees, as fragrant as the cedar forests of Lebanon. My people will . . .
flourish like grain and blossom like grapevines. They will be as fragrant as the
wines of Lebanon." Hosea 14:5-7. These verses contain gracious promises of God’s
favor and blessings upon his people. In the fifth verse it is described by that
refreshment which copious dews give to the grass in summer. If we consider the
nature of the climate and the necessity of dews in so hot a country, not only to
refresh but likewise to preserve life; if we consider also the beauty of the
oriental lilies; the fragrance of the cedars which grow upon Lebanon; the
beauteous appearance which the surrounding olive trees afford; the exhilarating
coolness caused by the shade of such trees; and the aromatic smell exhaled by
the cedars; if we add to this the reviving of the grain with all the verdure of
spring; and the blushing grapes pendant from the vine—we shall then partly
understand the force of the metaphors here employed by the prophet—but their
full energy no one can conceive until he feels both the need, and enjoys the
advantage, of the particulars referred to in that climate where the prophet
wrote.

What a glorious prophecy! How sublime, how energetic, how just! and this
description is for all the true spiritual Israel of God. It may be there is a
national reference—but all Christians have lot and portion in the matter. God
sets his love upon us; pours down his grace upon us; and fulfils all this—to
those who have faith to believe in the promise of his Spirit. It is not merely
the poetic beauty of this passage that we hold up to notice, though this is
surpassingly great, and is one of those gems of composition which so profusely
stud the Bible, and commend it to taste as well as to piety—but it is the
promises of grace and growth which it contains for the encouragement and
consolation of all God’s people to the end of time.

How full of encouragement is also the language of the prophet Isaiah, "Those who
hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah
40:31. This beautiful passage refers primarily, though not exclusively, to the
captive Jews in Babylon, and encouraged the godly among them to exercise
confidence in God’s ability and willingness to accomplish his promises, and to
wait with patience for his gracious appearance on their behalf. But it contains
a general promise of continued supplies of grace and strength to all who really
desire to serve the Lord with integrity and simplicity. The image of the eagle
is a very fine one, and this is not the only place where it is employed. The
prophet alludes to the strength of pinion and of vision possessed by this noble
bird, whereby it ascends to a lofty height, untired and undazzled—soaring even
above the fogs and mists of the lower regions of the air, mounting above the
very clouds, undeterred by the lightning, and floating in the pure azure above.
Thus shall all who wait upon the Lord rise higher and higher, upon the mighty
pinions of strong devotion and with the unblinking eye of faith, into the
regions of heavenly-mindedness; and shall approach nearer and nearer to God—the
sun of our spiritual day.

Then the other expressions, if less figurative, are not less encouraging, "They
shall run" in the heavenly race, for the crown of immortal glory, "and not be
weary." Their strength, instead of being exhausted, shall, contrary to what
occurs in bodily effort, be increased by exertion. No length nor greatness of
labor shall be too much for them. God shall pour into their souls fresh energy
for every fresh effort. They shall thus be enabled to press along the mark
towards the prize of their high calling in Christ Jesus. "They shall walk and
not faint." Their pilgrimage may be arduous; the road may be long and rugged;
often up steep ascents, and down into deep and rocky defiles, where every step
is a labor—but they shall not lose heart or hope; they shall not swoon, nor
halt, nor turn back—but go forwards, sustained by a power greater than their
own. But perhaps a plain didactic and unpoetic quotation from the New Testament,
will, after all, have more weight with some minds than this profusion of
gorgeous oriental imagery. What then can be more consolatory than the apostle’s
words to the Philippian church, "Being confident of this very thing, that he who
has begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Christ." Php 1:6.
He will have respect to and delight in the work of his hands. He is honored and
glorified by the perseverance of his people in faith and holiness, and will give
all the supplies of grace necessary for the work. He loves to see his children
grow in all that is excellent, even as does a wise and good earthly parent—and
far more readily, will He contribute all that is necessary for this purpose.

II. Dwell upon the love and tenderness of our Lord Jesus Christ. Let me direct
your attention first of all to that wonderfully beautiful and tender
representation where it is said, "He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He
will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will
gently lead the mother sheep with their young." Isaiah 40:11. Now you will
notice who are here represented as the objects of his care, "the lambs," which
means not only those of tender age—but of recent standing in true religion. They
who are young in Christian experience; and also those whose spirits are
naturally timid, whose strength is feeble, and whose danger is great. You, you,
recently brought to Christ by repentance and faith, you are the objects of
Christ’s special attention, care, and solicitude. You are those whom he takes up
in the arms of his power, and lays on the bosom of his love. He knows your
weakness, your timidity, your dangers. He directs towards you his tenderest
sympathy, and will exert for you his greatest vigilance, and his mightiest
power. This expression however not only conveys the idea of great care of the
weak—but the exercise of that care with a view to their preservation and growth;
it means not only that he cordially receives them, will provide for their
safety, be concerned for their comfort, and will accommodate his conduct to
their needs—but will also nourish them through their infant existence, and raise
them up to maturity and strength. You should dwell upon the exquisite tenderness
of the passage—but not only upon this—but upon its intimation that he will
assist you in your growth. The Good Shepherd does not wish or intend that his
lambs should be always lambs. His aim is that they should be full-grown sheep,
and he will leave nothing undone that this might be accomplished; and it is for
this reason as well as from pity and kindness that he takes such care of them.
So it is with our Lord Jesus in reference to the young convert.

Let every lamb of the flock of Christ therefore go to him by faith and prayer,
and say, "Blessed Jesus, I come to you a poor, weak, and trembling creature,
doubtful of my own continuance, and alarmed at my numerous difficulties and
enemies. I am but a lamb, and often fear I shall never be anything better—but
perish as I am. But was it not in regard to such weakness that you have been
pleased to utter these gracious and tender words? I believe what you have
spoken, and will venture my soul upon it. I flee to you as the helpless lamb to
its shepherd when hungry to feed it, when pursued by wild beasts that he may
defend it. Lord take me in the arms of your power and lay me on the bosom of
your love, though I am so poor and inconsiderable a creature. I will hope in
your pastoral power and love, that I shall not only continue but grow, and that
you will one day rejoice in me as one of the flock which you have purchased with
your own blood."

III. But perhaps you may find some encouragement, even in your own experience.
You are sometimes disheartened and cast down. You make little or no progress in
godliness. You are no wiser, holier, or happier than you were years ago—and you
fear you never shall be! You begin to be heartless and desponding. Deeply
sensible of your deficiencies, you fear they will never be provided for—you feel
your remaining corruptions, and have faint hopes of subduing them. You see
heights above your head, which you doubt you shall ever reach. In the race you
are no nearer the goal, and in the conflict gain few advantages over your foes.
To remain as you are, is the utmost you now hope for! You put forth your
strongest effort, just so that you don’t go backwards! For you, progress is out
of the question. Again I ask, Why? Only because you think so. I have referred
you to the promises of God—to the grace and intercession of Christ—to the
examples of others; but now let me refer you to your own history and experience.

I am supposing that you have experienced the converting grace of God; that you
have really and in earnest commenced the great work of salvation; that, in
short—you are not what you once were. Old things have passed away, and all
things have become new. And if this be the case, is it for you to doubt whether
you can advance? Is continuance to be despaired of, by him who has been enabled
to begin? Is advancement be despaired of, by him who has been enabled to
continue? Have you by grace taken the mighty step, stride, bound—for it is all
this—from an unconverted to a converted state—and do you doubt whether you shall
go on step by step afterwards? Have you pressed through the straight gate, and
shall you not be able to press forward, also, in the narrow path? Is the
Christian life more difficult, either to you or to God than regeneration?

Oh, think of all the difficulties that stood in the way when you first entered
the road to glory. Recollect what you had to encounter from within and without.
Have you forgotten the trembling apprehensions with which when the decision was
to be made for Christ, salvation, and eternity—you doubted if it ever would be
made? The anguish with which, on a survey of all you had to encounter, you
exclaimed, "Who is sufficient for these things!" Yet it was made. God’s grace
was sufficient for you in this tremendous crisis of your spiritual and eternal
history. And now can you doubt whether that grace which converted you, can carry
you forward? What! planted and not be able to thrive? Born, and not be able to
grow? Started the race, and not be able to run? Victorious, and not be able to
conquer? Will you so much disparage the grace that has been given—as to doubt
its continuance; and the work it has wrought—as to fear its going forward? Have
you learned no more from God’s past wisdom, and power, and love—than to question
whether they will help you onward in that course to which they have introduced
you? Why one would be ready to suppose—that you would be ever full of joyful
expectation and exultation too, exclaiming, "To what measure of knowledge,
faith, holiness, joy, and usefulness—may I not hope to reach—since I have been
translated by the power of God from darkness to light, and from the kingdom of
Satan unto God?"

You yourself, in what God has already done for you, are a proof of what he can
and will do for you—if you will ask him, and trust him. Castaway then, all your
desponding fears, your low expectations, your unworthy doubts; they dishonor
God—as well as distress yourself. You are yourself the strongest proof that you
can advance, for you have advanced. "He who has begun the good work in you will
perform it until the day of Jesus Christ." Remember the words, and enter into
the argument, of the apostle, "Since we have now been justified by his blood,
how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, when we
were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how
much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life!" Romans
5:9-10 CONCLUDING ADDRESS TO THE READER The subject—the ineffably, infinitely,
eternally, momentous subject, is now before you, compared with which all other
matters, even the most valuable of them—dwindle into insignificance, shrink into
nothing, and fade into darkness. I have been speaking about progress—but
progress in what? Not in science, literature, wealth, power, fame. No! These are
important—but what are they to true religion? They relate to earth, this to
heaven; they belong to time; this to eternity. Their value will cease at death;
the value of this will then be perpetuated forever and ever. Every step you take
in the course of godliness, is a step to glory, honor, and immortality;
consequences hang on each step which no mind can comprehend, but that which
grasps infinity and eternity. You are fearfully and wonderfully placed, for you
are passing through a probation which must issue in torment—or in bliss—which
eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has ever entered into the imagination of
the human mind. I have laid before you the necessity of that progress—its
nature—its means—its hindrances—its mistakes—its motives—and its
encouragements—which belong to true religion. By the perusal of this book you
have incurred a new responsibility, and are under a more solemn weight of
obligation than you were before. If you should turn back in your course, it
would have been better if you had never read it; or having read it, you would
find it a mercy if you could blot its contents from your memory. But this you
cannot do. No ’sea of oblivion’ can help you to cast into forgetfulness, what
you have read. Its coming into your hands will form a new fact in your
existence, of great consequence to you; for it will be a new aggravation of the
sin and condemnation of backsliding, or a new means of growth in grace. It may
be neglected, and for a while lost sight of—but it will rise up again and again,
if you go backwards—and will meet you like a frowning specter in your declining
path. It will follow you into eternity, to give sharpness and venom to the tooth
of the never-dying worm, and fierceness to the fire which never shall be
quenched! But "I hope better things of you, and things that accompany salvation,
though I thus speak." The motives I have suggested will, I hope, prevail to urge
you to advance; and the encouragements will prevail to excite you to advance.
Everything you can desire or imagine that would be helpful is with you and for
you. The attributes of the eternal God—the character and offices of Christ—the
influences and operations of the Holy Spirit—the ministry of angels—the labors
of Christian ministers—the Christian literature of the age—the prayers of all
godly men—are with you, to aid and encourage you in your progress. Is this
nothing? Is it little? On the contrary—is it not much? Is it not everything?
What more can you need—or can you have? And now then let me conjure you to seek
to advance in the divine life. You must not—you dare not—and I hope, by the
grace of God, will not—be satisfied to be always what you now are—with no more
knowledge, faith, holiness, or peace than you now have. What God commanded to be
said to the children of Israel—that they should go forward, is said to you, go
forward! By all the authority, the commands, the promises of God—by all the
love, power, grace, and intercession of Christ—by all the work of the Holy
Spirit, so sufficient for your need, I implore you to go forward! By all the
value of your immortal soul and all the blessings included in its salvation, I
entreat you to go forward! By all the pleasure of real religion now, and all the
fitness it furnishes for eternal bliss hereafter, I beseech you to go forward!
By all the regard you have to the credit of the Christian profession and the
welfare of other men’s souls, I plead with you to go forward! By all the
solemnities of judgment—all the glories of heaven—all the torments of hell—all
the ages of eternity, I beg you to go forward! To all these arguments and
entreaties, so urgent as well as so numerous, let judgment, heart, will,
conscience, respond, "Onwards, onwards, in the path to holiness, happiness, and
heaven! Onwards, onwards, through the progression of eternal ages!"

Now lay down the book, and present in sincerity, faith, and fervor, the
following prayer–

"Almighty and most merciful Father, grant me, through Jesus Christ, the power of
your Holy Spirit, to follow the directions laid down in this book. Impress me
more and more deeply with the necessity of progress in the divine life.
Enlighten me to understand its true nature. Preserve me from all mistakes on
this momentous subject. Bless to me the use of appropriate means for growth in
grace. Enable me to avoid and put aside all hindrances to progress. Stimulate me
by the application to my conscience and heart of all the motives here suggested,
and cheer me by the encouragements which have been held out to me. Of your
infinite mercy never allow me to draw back unto perdition—but number me with
those who believe to the saving of the soul. Help me to forget the things which
are behind, and press forward to the mark for the prize of our high calling in
Christ Jesus; and after continual increase of grace here on earth, bring me to
the eternal progression of your saints in glory everlasting. Grant this
according to the riches of your grace, through Christ Jesus. Amen."


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  CHAPTER 73: 06.00. FEMALE PIETY—THE YOUNG WOMAN'S GUIDE
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Female Piety—The Young Woman’s Guide through Life to Immortality John Angell
James, (1853)

Introduction The Influence of Christianity on the Condition of Woman The
Conspicuous Place Which Woman Occupies in Holy Scripture Woman’s Mission

Early Piety

Christian Zeal The Parental Home Life Away from Home The Character of Rebekah
The Ornaments of a Profession of Religion The Characters of Martha and Mary of
Bethany To Young Mothers The Beautiful Picture of the Excellent Wife in the Book
of Proverbs


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  CHAPTER 74: 06.00I.    INTRODUCTION
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Female Piety—The Young Woman’s Guide through Life to Immortality John Angell
James, (1785—1859)

Introduction

Woman was the finishing grace of the creation. Woman was the completeness of
man’s bliss in Paradise. Woman was the cause of sin and death to our world. The
world was redeemed by the seed of the woman. Woman is the mother of the human
race; our companion, counselor, and comforter in the pilgrimage of life; or our
tempter, scourge, and destroyer. Our sweetest cup of earthly happiness, or our
bitterest draught of sorrow, is mixed and administered by her hand. She not only
renders smooth or rough our path to the grave, but helps or hinders our progress
to immortality. In heaven we shall bless God for her aid in assisting us to
reach that blissful state; or amid the torments of unutterable woe in another
region, we shall deplore the fatality of her influence! This work was delivered
originally in a course of monthly sermons, to which I was led by a conviction
that woman, as regards her specific duties, is too much neglected in the
ministry of the church; an omission which must be traced to a morbid delicacy
unworthy of the pulpit. Happily this reproach does not appertain to the press,
to which perhaps, in the opinion of some, this subject ought to be exclusively
consigned. But why? Can any good and valid reason be assigned for shutting out
from the house of God instructions to so important a class of the community?
Many people almost instinctively shrink from such addresses, from a fear lest
matters should be introduced at which modesty would blush, and by which the
finer sensibilities would be wounded. There is a prudishness in such feelings
which can be justified neither by reason nor revelation.

It may be as well to announce in the opening chapter that the whole course will
be of a decidedly religious nature. For all the general directions and
excellences of female character, I shall refer to the various works which on
these topics have issued from the press. My subject is religion—my object is the
soul—my aim is salvation. I view you, my female friends, as destined to another
world, and it is my business to aid and stimulate you, "by patient continuance
in well-doing, to seek for glory, honor, and immortality," and to obtain eternal
life! I look beyond the painted and gaudy scene of earth’s fading vanities, to
the everlasting ages through which you must exist in torment or bliss; and, God
helping me, it shall not be my fault if you do not live in comfort, die in
peace, and inherit salvation!


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  CHAPTER 75: 06.01.     THE INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY ON THE CONDI
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The Influence of Christianity on the Condition of Woman

"There is neither Jew nor Greek—there is neither bond nor free; there is neither
male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus." Galatians 3:28

I can think of no subject with which more appropriately to commence this work,
than the influence of Christianity on the condition of woman. Our first
attention must be directed of course to the condition of the female sex beyond
the boundaries of Christendom.

It would seem from the words of the original denouncement upon Eve for her
transgression in eating the forbidden fruit, that while yet the first pair were
innocent, there was a more entire equality of condition and rights between the
sexes than there has been after the fall. "Your desire shall be to your husband,
and he shall rule over you." This sounds like something penal, though perhaps
some would regard it as merely predictive, and intended to describe the cruel
and brutalizing tendency of sin, in turning man, who ought to be the loving
companion of his wife, into a tyrant. How fearfully, if predictive, this
sentence has been fulfilled, the degradation of woman, her wrongs, her sorrows,
and her vices, in many cases, most painfully attest.

History, which will ever be found to corroborate revelation, proves that in most
Pagan and Mohammedan nations, whether ancient or modern, woman has been cruelly
and wickedly sunk below her proper level in social and domestic life, "hated and
despised from her birth, and her birth itself esteemed a calamity; in some
countries not even allowed the rank of a moral and responsible agent; so
tenderly alive to her own degradation that she acquiesces in the murder of her
female offspring; immured from infancy; without education; married without her
consent; in a multitude of instances sold by her parents; refused the confidence
of her husband, and banished from his table; on his death, doomed to the funeral
pile, or to contempt that renders life a burden." In such a condition she has
been the household drudge, or the mere object of lust. She has ministered to the
gratification of man’s indolence or sensual appetite, but has not been his
companion, his counselor, or his comforter. In barbarous countries she has been
a slave; in civilized ones very generally little better than a kept mistress.
Her mind has been left untaught, as if incapable or unworthy of instruction. She
has been not only imprisoned in seclusion by jealousy, but degraded and rendered
inferior and miserable by polygamy. Sometimes worshiped as a goddess; next
fondled as a toy; then punished as a victim, she could never attain to dignity,
and even with all her brightest charms could rarely appear but as a doll or a
puppet.

Exceptions to some extent may be made in favor of the polished Greeks and proud
Romans—but only to some extent; for did time permit, and necessity require, it
could be shown that neither Athenian refinement nor Roman virtue gave to woman
her just rank by the side of her husband, or her proper place in his affection,
esteem, and confidence.

"Neither Paganism nor Mohammedanism ever yet understood the female character, or
conceded woman’s just claims. In many nations the degradation has been
excessive. You remember probably the reply of a Pagan mother, who having been
expostulated with for the murder of her female child, contended that she had
performed an act of mercy in sparing the babe the miseries of a woman’s life.
All travelers and all missionaries attest the fact of woman’s humiliation,
beyond the boundaries of Biblical revelation."

If we go to the Bible, we shall learn that it is to Christianity, as contrasted
even with Judaism, that woman owes her true elevation. Polygamy is, and ever
must be, fatal to female dignity and happiness—this, or at any rate concubinage,
was practiced, no doubt under mistaken views, by the patriarchs; not that it was
ever positively sanctioned by God, for from the beginning he made one woman for
one man, and by the providential and remarkable fact of the general equality of
the sexes as to numbers, he still proclaims in unmistakable language the law of
monogamy. But to use an expression of the apostle, "he winked at" these
things—he did not regard it as innocent or convenient, yet he did not say much
about it, or punish it—but left it to punish itself, which it most certainly
did. If we examine the Levitical code we shall find that even it, though a
Divine dispensation, contained some regulations which evinced that the time of
woman’s full emancipation from a state of inferiority had not yet arrived—and
that it was reserved for the glorious and gracious economy under which we are
placed, to raise the female sex to its just position and influence in society.

Christianity as in other things, so in this, is an enlargement of human
privileges; and among other blessings which it confers, is its elevation of
woman to her proper place and influence in the family and in society.

Let us now consider what there is in Christianity that tends to elevate and
improve the condition of woman. To the oppressive and cruel customs of
Mohammedanism and Paganism, in their treatment of the female sex—Christianity
presents a beautiful and lovely contrast; while to the partial provisions for
female rights in Judaism it adds a complete recognition of their claims. It is
the glory of our holy Christian religion, and a proof of its emanation from the
Divine beneficence, that it is the enemy of oppression in every form and every
condition, and gives to every one his due. It tramples on no right, it resents
and resists all wrong—but no one of all the sons of men is so indebted to its
merciful and equitable reign as woman. From Christianity woman has derived her
moral and social influence—yes, almost her very existence as a social being. The
mind of woman, which many of the philosophers, legislators, and sages of
antiquity doomed to inferiority and imbecility, Christianity has developed. The
gospel of Christ in the person of its Divine Founder, has descended into this
neglected mine, which even wise men had regarded as not worth the working, and
brought up many a priceless gem, flashing with the light of intelligence, and
glowing with the lovely hues of Christian graces. Christianity has been the
restorer of woman’s plundered rights, and has furnished the brightest jewels in
her present crown of honor. Her previous degradation accounts, in part at least,
for the instability of early civilization. It is impossible for society to be
permanently elevated where woman is debased and servile. Wherever females are
regarded as inferior beings, society contains within itself the elements of
dissolution, and the obstruction of all solid improvement. It is impossible that
institutions and usages which oppose and stifle the instincts of our nature, and
violate the revealed law of God, can be crowned with ultimate success. Society
may change in its external aspect; may exhibit the glitter of wealth, the
refinements of taste, the embellishments of art, or the more valuable
attainments of science and literature; but if the mind of woman remain
undeveloped, her taste uncultivated, and her person enslaved—the social
foundations are insecure and the cement of society is weak. Wherever
Christianity is understood and felt, woman is free. The gospel, like a kind
angel, opens her prison doors and bids her walk abroad and enjoy the sunlight of
reason, and breathe the invigorating air of intellectual freedom. And in
proportion as pure Christianity prevails this will be ever found to be the case.
But all this is vague and general assertion, and I will bring forward proofs of
it.

Christianity elevates the condition of woman by its genius as "a system of
universal equity and benevolence." When it descended from heaven to earth, it
was heralded into our world by the angel’s song, "Glory to God in the highest;
and on earth, peace and good will to men." The offspring of infinite love, it
partakes of the spirit, and reflects the character, of its Divine Parent.
Christianity is essentially and unalterably the enemy of all injustice, cruelty,
and oppression—and the friend of all that is just, kind and courteous. The
rough, the brutal, and the ferocious, are alien from its spirit; while the
tender, the gentle, and the courteous, are entirely in unison with its nature.
It frowns with indignant countenance upon tyranny, whether in the palace or the
parlour, while it is the friend of liberty, and the patron of right. The man who
understands its genius, and lives under its inspiration, whether he be a
monarch, a master, a husband, or a father—must be a man of equity and love.
Christianity inspires the purest chivalry—a chivalry shorn of vanity, purified
from passion, elevated above frivolity—a chivalry of which the animating
principle is love to God, and the scene of its operation the domestic circle,
and not the public pageant. He who is unjust or unkind to any one, especially to
the weaker sex, betrays a total ignorance of, or a manifest repugnance to, the
practical influence of the gospel of Christ. It is a mistake to suppose that the
faith of Jesus is intended only to throw a dim religious light over the gloom of
the cloister, or to form the character of the devotee; on the contrary, it is
pre-eminently a social thing, and is designed as well as adapted to form a
character which shall go out into the world in a spirit of universal
benevolence—to such a character the oppressor or degrader of woman can make no
pretensions. The incarnation of Christ tended to exalt the dignity of the female
sex. His assuming humanity has given a dignity to our nature which it had never
received before, and could not have received in any other way. Christ is "the
Pattern Man" of our race, in whom all the lines of humanity converge and unite,
so far as the existence of our race goes. When he took man’s nature, he allied
himself to all the members of the extended race by the actual adoption of a
human body, which gave him relationship to them. He not only became like men and
dwelt among them, but he became man himself, an actual descendant from their
first progenitor. He was made man. Human nature became more precious. By the
manner of his birth, he associated himself with our nature. This appears to be
the meaning of the apostle in his quotation of the eighth Psalm in the epistle
to the Hebrews, to show the dignity conferred upon humanity, by its being
assumed by so glorious a person, as our Lord Jesus Christ in his divine nature
was.

If, then, manhood is honored by Christ assuming it, how much more is woman
exalted, who, in addition to this, was made the instrument of giving birth to
the humanity of Christ? It is emphatically said by the apostle, "When the
fullness of the time was come, God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made
under the law." In the person of the Virgin Mary, and by her giving birth to the
holy being born of her, the female sex was elevated. True, it was a personal
distinction, that Mary should be the mother of our Lord’s humanity—and (while
she has been by the apostate Church of Rome wickedly exalted into an object of
idolatrous homage) all generations justly call her blessed. Yet the honor is not
limited to herself, but passes over to her sex, which she represented; and it is
to this the apostles allude. He does not mention her, but dwells upon the
abstract general term, "made of a woman." Every female on earth, from that day
to this, has had a relative elevation, by and in that wonderful transaction.

Woman was not the mother of God, as the Papists absurdly, and, as I think,
blasphemously, say; but she was the mother of that human being who was
mysteriously united with Divinity. And does not this great fact proclaim, "Let
the sex which alone was concerned in giving birth to the Son of God, and Savior
of the world, be ever held in high estimation." The personal conduct of our Lord
during his sojourn upon earth tended to exalt the female sex to a consideration
before unknown. Follow him through the whole of his earthly career, and mark the
attention which he most condescendingly paid to, and as condescendingly received
from, the female sex. He admitted them to his presence, conversed familiarly
with them, and accepted the tokens of their gratitude, affection, and
devotedness. See him accompanying his mother to the marriage feast of Cana in
Galilee. See him conversing with the woman of Samaria, instructing her
ignorance, enduring her petulance, correcting her mistakes, awakening her
conscience, converting her soul, and afterwards employing her as a messenger of
mercy and salvation to her neighbors. See him rebuking his disciples for
discouraging the approach of mothers and their infants. See him compassionating
the widow of Nain, and restoring her son to life. See him in the little family
of Bethany, blending his sympathies with the bereaved sisters; and on another
occasion entering into familiar conversation with this same Martha and Mary, and
faithfully rebuking one and kindly commending the other. See him receiving the
offerings of those women who ministered to him of their substance. Witness the
attendance of pious women upon him in the last scenes of his life. It was to
Mary Magdalene that the honor of the first manifestation of the risen Saviour
was made; and thus a woman was preferred to apostles, and made the messenger of
the blissful news to them.

"The frequent mention," says Doddridge, "which is made in the evangelists of the
generous courage and zeal of pious women in the service of Christ, and
especially of the faithful and resolute constancy with which they attended him
in those last scenes of his suffering, might very possibly be intended to
obviate that haughty and senseless contempt which the pride of men, often
irritated by those vexations to which their own irregular passions have exposed
them, has in all ages affected to throw on that sex, which probably in the sight
of God has constituted by far the better half of mankind; and to whose care and
tenderness the wisest and best of men generally owe and ascribe much of the
daily comfort and enjoyments of their lives."

Compare this behavior towards women—this chaste, holy, dignified conduct of our
Lord—with the polygamy, licentiousness, and impurities of Mohammed, not merely
as evidence of their respective claims, but as regards their influence upon the
condition of woman—while the one did everything by example and by precept to
corrupt, to debase, and to degrade them—Jesus did everything to purify, to
elevate, and to bless them. The conduct of Mohammed, the Arabian zealot and
impostor, and the boasts of his followers and admirers, are too revolting for
description, almost for allusion. But on the contrary, what one syllable of the
Savior’s utterances, or what one scene of his life, was there, which tainted the
immaculate purity of his language, or left the slightest stain upon the more
than snow-like sanctity of his character? What part of his conduct might not be
unveiled and described before a company of the most modest, most delicate, and
even most prudish-minded females in existence? But his treatment of woman raised
her from her degradation without exalting her above her level. He rescued her
from oppression without exciting her vanity; and invested her with dignity
without giving her occasion for pride. While he allowed her not only to come
into his presence, but to minister to his comfort; and while he conciliated her
grateful and reverent affection, he inspired her with awe; and thus taught man
how to behave to woman, and what return woman was to make to man. The conduct of
Jesus Christ towards the female sex was one of the most attractive excellences
of his beautiful character, though perhaps it is one of the least noticed. To
him they must ever point, as not only the Savior of their souls, but as the
advocate of their rights and the guardian of their peace. The actual abolition
of polygamy by Christianity is a vast improvement in the condition of woman.
Wherever polygamy prevails, the female sex must ever be in a state of
degradation and misery. "Experience has abundantly and painfully proved that
polygamy debases and brutalizes both the body and the soul, and renders society
incapable of those generous and refined affections, which, if duly cultivated,
would be found to be the inheritance even of our fallen nature." Where is there
an instance in which polygamy has not been the source of many and bitter
calamities in the domestic circle and in the State? Where has it reared a
virtuous and heaven-taught progeny? Where has it been distinguished for any of
the moral virtues—or rather where has it not been distinguished for the most
fearful degeneracy? By this practice, which has prevailed so extensively through
nearly all countries and all ages in which Christianity has not been known, or
has not been paramount, marriage loses all its tenderness, its sanctity, and its
reciprocal confidence; the cup of wedded felicity is exchanged for that of mere
animal lustful pleasure; woman panders to the sensual appetite of man, instead
of ministering to his comfort—and the home assumes much of the character of a
debased brothel.

There may be several mistresses, but there can be only one wife; and though
there may be many mothers, they are without a mother’s affection; presenting a
scene of endless envy and jealousy, before which domestic comfort must ever
depart, leaving mere sensual gratification. No stimulus to improvement, no
motive to fidelity, no ambition to please, can be felt by a wife who may be
supplanted the next month by a new favorite. And in such circumstances there is
no room and little occasion for the display of those virtues which constitute
female honor.

Here, then, is the glorious excellence of Christianity; it revived and
re-established the original institute of marriage, and restored to woman her
fortune, her person, her rank, and her happiness, of all of which she had been
cheated by polygamy; and it thus raised the female sex to the elevation to which
they were destined by their wise and beneficent Creator. True it is that
Christianity has not effected this great change, so beneficial not only to the
female sex—but to society, by direct, explicit, and positive precept; yet it has
done so by an implication so clear that there can be no mistake as to the
reality of the command, or the universality of its obligation, for all its
provisions, precepts, and promises, proceed on the supposition of each husband
being the husband but of one wife. And the springs of national prosperity rise
from beneath the family hearth, and the domestic constitution is the mold where
national character is cast, and that mold must of necessity take its form from
the unity, sanctity, and inviolability of marriage. The jealousy with which
Christianity guards the ’sanctity of the marriage bond’ must ever be regarded as
having a most favorable influence upon the condition of woman. Let this be
relaxed or impaired, and that moment woman sinks in dignity, in purity, and in
happiness. There have been nations in which the ’ease of divorce’ took the place
of polygamy, and of course was accompanied with some of its vices, and many of
its miseries too. This was eminently the case with ancient Rome after the early
times of the Republic, and most instructive are the examples in the annals of
its history, and the allusions to them in the pages of its poets. Let the
nuptial tie be weakened, and the wife live in perpetual fear, because her union
to her husband is placed in jeopardy by a law under which he may at any time, at
the instigation of passion or caprice, dissolve the bond between them, and
without either penalty, remorse, or shame, dismiss her from his home—and there
is an end to her peace, and perhaps to her purity. For it is to be recollected
that it is she who has most to dread from the license of divorce. She is likely
to be the victim of such a law. With what devout and reverential gratitude
should she then turn to that Divine Teacher who has interposed his authority to
strengthen the marriage bond, and to guard it from being severed at the demand
of illicit passion, or the dictates of temperament or caprice. How should she
rejoice to hear Him say, "But I tell you that anyone who divorces his wife,
except for marital unfaithfulness, causes her to become an adulteress, and
anyone who marries the divorced woman commits adultery." Matthew 5:32 The
indulgence of greater latitude and liberty in this matter granted to the
Jews—was thus superseded by Christianity; a greater security was provided for
woman’s honor and felicity; and a broader basis laid for domestic harmony and
happiness. If it were only for this, Christianity deserves the gratitude of
mankind. But it is only half its glory that it has abolished the custom of
having many wives—its crowning achievement is that it has protected the rights,
the dignity, and the comfort of the one wife. It has shut out intruders from her
home, and guaranteed the safe and permanent possession of it to herself.

I may surely mention the equal participation of religious blessing to which
women are admitted by the Christian religion. How explicitly and how firmly has
the apostle claimed for woman all the blessings obtained by Christ for the human
race, where he says, "There is neither Jew nor Greek; there is neither bond nor
free; there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus."
There is the charter granting to woman all the blessings of salvation; there is
the proof of woman’s equality in the sight of God; there is woman’s claim to her
just rank in the institutes of man. There is not a blessing necessary to eternal
life, which she does not receive in the same measure and in the same manner as
the male sex. There is a popular tradition among the Mohammedans, prevalent
among them to this day, that wives are not permitted to enter paradise—the
"voluptuously beautiful young women" of that region being specially created in
their stead. What degradation is there in such an idea! But it is consistent
with the spirit, and harmonizes with the ideals, of Mohammedanism, which regards
woman more as the slave of man’s lustful passions—than as the companion of his
life.

Christianity places the wife by the side of the husband; the daughter by the
side of the father; the sister by the side of the brother; and the maid by the
side of the mistress, at the altar of the family; in the meeting of the church;
at the table of the Lord; and in the congregation of the sanctuary. Male and
female meet together at the cross—and will meet in the realms of glory. Can
anything more effectually tend to raise and sustain the condition of woman than
this? God in all his ordinances, Christ in his glorious undertaking, and the
Holy Spirit in his gracious work, gave her her proper place in the world, by
giving her a proper place in the church. It is for her with peculiar emphasis to
say, "God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love with which he loved us, has
raised us up together, and made us sit together in heavenly places." And well
have women understood their privileges, for look into our congregations and
churches, and see how largely they are composed of females. How many more of
their sex, than of the other, avail themselves of the offer of gospel mercy, and
come under the influence of religion. It is in the female bosom, however we may
account for the fact, that piety finds a home on earth. The door of woman’s
heart is often thrown wide open to receive the Divine guest, when man refuses
Him an entrance. And it is by thus yielding to the power of godliness, and
reflecting upon others the beauties of holiness, that she maintains her standing
and her influence in society. Under the sanctifying power of religion she
ascends to the glory, not only of an intelligent, but of a spiritual, existence;
not only gladdens by her presence the solitary hours of man’s existence, and
beguiles by her converse and sympathy the rough and tedious paths of his life;
but in some measure modifies, purifies, and sanctifies him, by making him feel
how attractive, goodness is. But the finishing stroke which Christianity gives
in elevating the condition of women, is, by inviting and employing their
energies and influence in promoting the spread of religion in the world; and
thus carrying out, through them as well as men, the great purposes of God in the
redemption of the world by the mission of his Son. To them, in common with men,
the apostle says, "That you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our
fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ." The honor so
liberally bestowed upon the pious women of antiquity, of ministering to the
personal needs of the Savior, and of being so constantly in his presence, was
the least of the distinctions designed for them by our holy religion. They bear
an exalted place in the labors and offices enjoined and instituted in apostolic
times for the setting up of Christ’s Kingdom in the world. How instructive and
impressive is it to hear Paul say, "Help those women who labored with me in the
gospel." What a register of names and offices of illustrious females do we find
in Romans 16. "Priscilla, his helper;" "Mary, who bestowed much labor on us;"
"Tryphena and Tryphosa, who labored in the Lord;" "Phebe, the servant of the
church at Cenchrea," who was sent to the church at Rome, and entrusted with so
momentous a commission as to bear to that community of Christians that epistle
of the apostle, which, if we may lawfully compare one portion of Scripture with
another, is the most precious portion of Divine revelation. In addition to all
this, there can be but little doubt that in the primitive church, not only were
women occasionally endowed by the Spirit with the miraculous gifts of
prophesying, but they were also employed in the office of deaconesses. The
Christian church in modern times, has gone backward in the honor put upon the
female character. The original age of Christianity was in advance of ours, in
the respect paid to the female sex by officially employing them in the services
of the church, and in the wisdom which made use of their available and valuable
resources. It has been said that the usages of society have somewhat changed
since that time, so as to render the services of women to their own sex less
necessary now than they were then, when the friendly and social communion of the
sexes was more restricted, and females were kept in greater seclusion. Some
truth, no doubt, there is in this assertion; but perhaps not so much as is
imagined by some. Both general and sacred history represent women in the times
referred, to as mingling in the society and sharing the occupations of the other
sex.

I now remark that not only does Christianity thus tend, by its own nature and
provisions, to exalt the female character, but it has accomplished this wherever
it has prevailed. If we consult the pages of history, whether ancient or modern,
whether eastern or western, we shall find that wherever the religion of our Lord
Jesus Christ has been successful, there it has achieved the emancipation of
woman from her thraldom, and rescued her from degradation. I refer to modern
Europe and America in proof of this. What a contrast in this respect do those
countries present to all Pagan and Mohammedan nations! Is it not a triumph and a
trophy of Christianity to be able to point to the most polished nations of the
globe as being, at any rate, professedly Christian; and at the same time to say,
"Look at the improved condition of the female sex?" And may I not affirm that
woman’s emancipation and elevation are in proportion to the purity of that
Christianity which has thus been diffused?

If we refer to the records of modern missions, we shall find abundant proof of
what the gospel does for the elevation of the female character. It has abolished
the Suttee in India (that is—the custom of a Hindu widow willingly being
cremated on the funeral pyre of her husband as an indication of her devotion to
him). It has stopped the drudgery of the wives of all savage tribes, the
incarcerating seclusion of Mohammedan and Papal nations, the polygamy, the
infanticide, and the concubinage of all countries where it has gone. Yes,
Christianity has in modern times proved itself, in all parts of the
world—woman’s emancipator and friend! It has brought her from under the
disastrous influence of the pale crescent of Mohammed, the impostor of Mecca,
and placed her in all the irradiating and enlivening splendor of the Sun of
Righteousness. It has rescued her from the baleful power of the Catholic
crucifix, and brought her within the elevating attraction of the cross. But
there is another way in which we may see that Christianity, even in this
Christian and Protestant nation, has benefited and raised the condition of
millions of once wretched and degraded women; made such not by their own
misconduct—but by the vices and cruelty of their husbands! How many wives have
been reduced to a kind of domestic slavery by the drunkenness, infidelity, and
tyranny of those who had pledged themselves to love and cherish them?
Christianity has in myriads of instances, laid powerful hold of the hearts of
such men, and changed them from vice to holiness—and the converted husband has
appeared a much changed man. And among other evidences of the reality of the
change, and the manifestations of its excellence—was his altered conduct at
home, where his wife became his companion, instead of being his drudge, his
slave, and his victim!

Christianity has thus carried out its genius and its precepts in the actual
elevation of the female character wherever it has gone. The chivalry of the
middle ages which combined religion, valor, and gallantry, whimsical as the
institution seems, no doubt did something to accomplish this end. I do not
dispute the truth of the remark made by a French writer, quoted in a popular
work entitled "Woman’s Mission," where he says that women shut up in their
castellated towers, civilized the warriors who despised their weakness, and
rendered less barbarous the passions and the prejudices which themselves shared.
It was they who directed the savage passions and brute force of the men to an
unselfish aim, the defense of the weak; and added humanity to courage, which had
been the only virtue previously recognized. But even chivalry derived its
existence in some measure from religion. And after all, how inferior in its
nature and how different in its influence, was that system of romance—to the
dignified principles and holy influence of Christianity. It did very well to
figure at the joust and the tournament; in the hall of the baron, and in the
circle of the fair; but its influence in the domestic scene was very slight as
compared with that of the institutions of the New Testament. It was rather the
exaggeration to extravagance of female rights and privileges, than an
intelligent concession of them under a sense of justice, and in obedience to the
Divine authority; and it may be questioned whether many an illustrious knight
did not when the hour of imagination had passed away, and the ardor of passion
had cooled, in the absence of Christian principles, crush and break the heart
which he had been so anxious to win.

It is the glory of Christianity that, instead of appealing to the imagination,
the senses, and the passions—it supplies principles which are rooted in the
soul, and sway the conscience; and that instead of leading its possessor to
expend his admiration of woman in the exciting scenes of public amusement, it
teaches and influences him first of all to contemplate her where her charms are
less glaringly adorned, in the retirement of social communion, and then to enjoy
them within the hallowed circle of domestic life. It allows of no senseless
adoration like that which chivalry promoted, and which from its very excess is
likely to be followed by recoil or collapse. What Christianity does for woman is
to fit her to be neither the goddess nor the slave, but the friend and
companion, of man, and to teach man to consider her in this honorable and
amiable aspect. Do we not see in all this a beautiful exhibition of the
transcendent excellence of our holy religion? In every view that we can take of
Christianity, whether we contemplate it in its aspects towards the eternal world
or towards this present world; in its relations to God or society; in its
sublime doctrines or its pure morality; we see a form of inimitable beauty,
sufficient to captivate every heart—but that which is petrified by false
philosophy, avowed infidelity, or gross immorality. But never does it appear
more lovely than in its relation to woman. With what equity does it hold the
balance between the sexes! With what kindness does it throw its shield over the
weaker vessel! With what wisdom does it sustain the rank and claims of those
whose influence is so important to society, and yet so limit their claims that
they shall not be carried to such a length as to defeat their end! With what
proper discrimination does it fix woman’s place in the home—where her power can
be most advantageously employed for the cultivation of her own virtues and the
benefit of society!

"Behold Christianity, then, walking forth in her purity and greatness to bless
the earth, diffusing her light in every direction, distributing her charities on
either hand, quenching the flames of lust and the fires of ambition, silencing
discord, spreading peace, and creating all things new. Angels watch her
progress, celebrate her influence, and anticipate her final triumphs! The moral
creation brightens beneath her smiles and owns her renovating power. At her
approach man loses his fierceness, and woman her chains; each becomes blessed in
the other, and God is glorified in both." (Dr. Cox’s Essay) May we not affirm
that the treatment of woman by Judaism and Christianity is one of the proofs of
their divine origin? We have seen already how much superior the later
dispensation was to the earlier one, as in other particulars, so in respect of
the matter I am treating of here. But they must always be associated together.
The spiritual religion of Christ was the development of the great truths
prefigured in the symbols of the ceremonial religion of Moses. I have shown how
both Mohammedanism and Paganism degrade the female character and sex. It would
seem therefore that man left to himself would never have set up a religion which
dealt equitably and kindly with woman. And what has infidelity, without a
religion, done for them? What would it do for them? Degrade them by demoralizing
them. The patrons of impurity and licentiousness, infidels at heart, have put on
the cloak of the philosopher, and maxims the most licentious have found their
way into works making high pretensions to morality, and assuming the office of
teachers of the age. Atheism, the most undisguised, has made its appearance, and
alas, that it should boast of a priestess, entitled to distinction on other
grounds, to conduct its worship at the shrine, and upon the altar, of chance!
Before skepticism had reached this depth of error, and arrived at the gloomy
region of a godless void, while yet it lingered on the shores of Deism, it
manifested its demoralizing tendency. Hume taught that adultery, when known, was
a slight offence; and when unknown, no offence at all. Bolingbroke openly and
violently attacked every important truth and every serious duty; particularly he
did what he could to license lewdness, and cut up chastity and decency by the
roots. Lord Herbert, of Cherbury, the most serious of the early English deists,
declared that the ’indulgence of lust’ is no more to be blamed than the thirst
of a fever, or the drowsiness of lethargy. Nor have modern infidels been behind
their predecessors. Godwin and Owen attacked the marriage tie. And let the
annals of the first French revolution, that terrible eruption from the volcano
of atheism, tell by the history of Mirabeau, the type of its morals—what
infidelity would do to corrupt and degrade the female sex!

Woman’s virtue, dignity, honor, and happiness, are nowhere safe but under the
protection of the Word of God. The Bible is the benefactor of the female sex.
Beneath this protection they are secure in their rights, their dignity, and
their peace. It is their vine and fig tree, under which in calm repose they may
enjoy the shade and relish the fruit. It protects their purity from taint, and
their peace from disturbance.

Let woman know her friend, and her enemy too. An infidel of either sex is the
foe of our species, either individually or collectively viewed; but a female
infidel is the most dangerous and destructive of the furies, from whom in her
suicidal career the virtuous of her own sex recoil with horror, and whom the
vicious regard as the abettor, though it may be unintentionally, of their
crimes.

Woman! regard your Savior for the next world as your Emancipator for this
present one—love the Bible as the charter of your liberty, and the guardian of
your bliss—and consider the church of Christ as your asylum from the wrongs of
oppression and the arts of seduction.

Let woman seek to discharge her obligations to Christianity. Grateful she ought
to be, for immense are the favors which have been conferred upon her by it. It
is enough to demand her thankfulness, that in common with man, she is the object
of Divine love, redeeming mercy, and the subject of immortal hope! But in
addition to this, she is rescued from oppression and exalted to honor in the
present world. In regard to this, your obligations to Christianity are immense.
You owe infinitely more to it than you ever reflect upon, or than you will ever
be able to cancel. Often as you look round upon your condition in society, and
especially as often as you contrast your situation with that of women in Pagan
countries, let a glow of gratitude warm your heart and add intensity to the
fervor with which you exclaim, "Precious Bible." Yes, doubly precious to you as
your friend for both worlds.

How then shall woman discharge her obligations? In two ways. First, in yielding
up her heart and life to the influence and service of her benefactor—in faith,
holiness, and love. Female piety is the best, the only sincere expression of
female gratitude to God. An irreligious woman is also an ungrateful one. She who
loves not Christ, whomsoever else she may love, and however chaste and pure that
love may be, is living immeasurably below her obligations, and has a stain of
guilt upon her heart and her conscience, which no other virtue can efface or
conceal.

Woman’s obligations should also be discharged by seeking to extend to others
that benevolent system which has exerted so beneficial an influence upon
herself. Of all the supporters of our missionary schemes, whether they are
formed to evangelize the heathen abroad, or reform the sinful at home, women
should be, as indeed they generally are, the most zealous, liberal, and
prayerful supporters. Wherever she turns her eye over the distant regions of our
earth, at least wherever Paganism or Mohammedanism throw their baleful shadow
(and alas, how large a portion of the earth that is!) there she beholds her sex
degraded and oppressed. From China’s vast domain, from India’s sunny plains,
from Persia’s flowery gardens, from the snows of Arctic regions, from the
sterile deserts of Arabia, and beneath the burning sun in Africa—woman lifts her
voice amid her wrongs, her woes, and her miseries, piteously imploring, "Come
over and help us!" The whole creation groans and travails in pain together until
now, but her groans are deeper, her cries louder, than any others. Borne upon
the wings of every breeze, and floated on every wave that touches our shores
from those regions of sin and sorrow—comes her petition to Christian females in
this country for the blessings of Christianity. Cold, thankless, and unfeeling
must be that heart which is unaffected by such an appeal, and makes no effort to
respond to it; which prompts to no interest in our missionary schemes, and leads
to no liberality in their support. The eternal world of glory will be especially
woman’s jubilee, and as no groan is deeper than hers during the reign of sin and
sorrow, so no joy will be louder than hers under the reign of Christ. It
belongs, therefore, to her to be most fervent in the cry of the church, "Come,
Lord Jesus, come quickly!"


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  CHAPTER 76: 06.02.     THE CONSPICUOUS PLACE WHICH WOMAN
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The Conspicuous Place Which Woman Occupies in Holy Scripture "The holy women of
the past." 1 Peter 3:5

It will probably be objected against some of the subjects selected for this
work, that they are not exclusively appropriate to the class of people to whom
they are addressed—that is, Young Women. This, however, so far from being a
fault, is an excellence. Most conditions of human life are prospective, and have
not only some proximate objects and duties connected with them, but also some
ultimate ones to which the others are preparatory; and he who would lead people
to the right discharge of the whole range of their obligations, must set before
them the future as well as the present, especially when due preparation for
after years must not only be made in the present, but must be considered to a
considerable extent the object and design of the present. Neither childhood nor
youth is an ultimate condition of human existence, but each leads on, looks to,
and prepares for—manhood or womanhood. Surely it must be appropriate then to
those who are already arrived at adult age, or are fast approaching it, to have
the whole view of their future condition laid before them, at least in general
outline. How else can they prepare for it?

Those to whom this volume is addressed, are supposed to have arrived at that
period of youth, when the judgment is sufficiently matured and reflective, to be
capable of studying and appreciating their future relations and duties—and
therefore ought to have the subject laid before them. Who can be rightly
educated for any future situation, if that is concealed until all its
obligations and responsibilities burst suddenly upon them? True, there is in
some minds an almost instinctive kind of perception of what is proper to be done
in any new conjuncture of circumstances, so that, almost without training, they
are prepared for whatever situation is before them. But this is not the case
with all. The greater number of mankind must, as far as possible, be trained for
their various situations in life. As in the education of a boy, especially when
learning a trade or profession—the future tradesman, master, father, and
citizen—must be set before him as that for which he must prepare himself; so in
the training of young women, the whole of womanhood in its full expansion,
ripened excellences, and complete relations, obligations, and responsibilities,
must be laid before them.

We know that there is much which can be learned only from experience—yet there
is much also that may be learned by observation, reading, and reflection.
Mothers, authors and preachers, who take up the subject, should ever bear in
recollection, that the girl is to develop into the woman; and in teaching the
girl, should ever have their eye fixed ultimately upon the woman, and should
with all possible earnestness fix the eye of the girl also upon her future
womanhood. Not that she is to be so taken up with the future as to neglect the
preset; or to acquire a premature matronly air and gravity, which will repress
the ardor and vivacity of youth, and, by anticipated cares and solicitudes, go
out to prematurely meet the coming troubles of life. But remember, my young
female friends, and the lesson cannot be too deeply impressed upon your
minds—that the seeds of woman’s life-long virtues and excellences must be sown
in the spring-time of existence; and it must be done in part by her own hand,
when aided and taught by others to prepare the soil. The flowers of womanly
virtues and excellences, which she would wish to grow in her future character,
must be previously and carefully selected, and be contemplated and anticipated
by her in all their full-blown beauty and their richest fragrance, even while
she is yet in youth. With these remarks as my justification in presenting to the
younger of the sex what in fact appertains to the more advanced in years, I now
proceed to the subject of the present chapter. When we consider the importance
of woman in the great human family, it would be strange if in a volume given by
inspiration of God, for regulating the conduct and promoting the happiness of
mankind, she had no place assigned to her commensurate with the influence she is
formed to exert. The Bible gives us an account of the origin and construction of
society, and is designed, among other and still higher purposes, to direct its
movements, and promote its welfare. This it could not do, if it left out woman;
or failed to bring her prominently forward; or did not prescribe with much form
and detail, her rank, her mission, and her duties. In the coins which were
struck in the reigns of our William and Mary, when the wife was ruling queen,
the busts of both husband and wife were represented; the king in front, and the
queen behind—and if a frontispiece were designed for the history of our race as
recorded in the Bible, man and woman should be exhibited in something of a
similar manner, with this inscription round the two-fold portrait, "Male and
Female created he them." The subject of this chapter was entered upon in the
last—it will be here continued and expanded into wider dimensions. Man of
course, is the chief subject of revealed truth. He occupies there, as he does in
society, the first place. More is said of him, to him, and by him, than applies
to woman. He is the prime actor, but not the sole one, in the great drama of
Providence, as it is developed in the pages of inspiration. His ’companion in
pilgrimage’ is brought forward into notice, and is neither lost in his shadow,
nor only occasionally peeps out from behind his more portly form and loftier
stature. Her name and history; her virtues and vices; her services and sorrows,
occupy a considerable space in the holy Book. She has no right to complain that
she is overlooked or forgotten, or that she is thrust into a corner and hidden
from observation. There is more than enough said about her to make her
contented. She ought to be thankful, and without Divine grace, may even be
tempted to be vain. She cannot be deprived of self-respect, or of the respect of
others, on account of the manner in which she is treated in the Scriptures. In
this respect the Bible stands in bright and beautiful contrast to the Koran.

We shall first of all advert to the account which the Bible gives of woman’s
creation and fall, in the book of Genesis. We would, in passing, remark, that it
is to Biblical revelation, and to that alone, that we are indebted for our
knowledge of the origin of the human species. Without the Mosaic account of the
creation, we would know neither the date nor the source of the family of man.
There is no other oracle which can give a response to the question, "Where did
we come from?" This furnishes an answer, and satisfies the enquirer—not as some
would pretend, with a mere allegorical history, but with true historic fact. I
need not recite the details of the scenes of Paradise, but only refer to them.
It is at once a beautiful—and melancholy record. We there see woman as she came
from the hand of the Creator, with a body combining every charm which could
captivate the being for whose companionship she was designed; and a soul
possessing every virtue that could adorn her character, and make her an object
of reverent affection. Her creation was peculiar, but not unworthy of the Great
Being who made her, of herself, or of him from whose own body she was derived.
Her origin seemed to dignify both her husband and herself. She was formed of
organized and vitalized matter, and not of mere dust—here was her distinction.
Who can describe, or who conceive, the thoughts or emotions of this holy pair at
their first interview! Our great poet has attempted it in his immortal verse,
where he says,

"I beheld her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my dream, adorned With what all
earth or heaven could bestow To make her amiable; on she came, Led by her
heavenly Maker, though unseen, And guided by his voice— Grace was in all her
steps, heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love. I, overjoy’d, could
not forbear aloud— You have fulfill’d Your words, Creator bounteous and benign,
Giver of all things fair! but fairest this Of all your gifts! nor enviest. I now
see Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself Before me—Woman is her name; of
man Extracted—for this cause he shall forego Father and mother, and to his wife
adhere; And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul."

Painters and sculptors have joined with poets, to represent to the senses and
the imagination the first woman in all her untainted loveliness. It is the
Scriptures, be it recollected, that supply to them the enrapturing subject of
their art.

Thus far we see woman, man’s companion in holiness and bliss, tenanting with him
the garden of Eden, enjoying its beauties, and helping to preserve them. With
him, joining in the morning hymn and vesper song. Confessing no sin, for they
had committed none; and disburdening themselves of no care, for none pressed
upon them. All was praise, while their own notes of thanksgiving, blended with
the melodies of the grove and the music of the fields, led even the ear of God
to listen with delight, and to say, "It is good."

Alas, how soon and how suddenly changed was this scene of Paradisaic bliss! Man
was placed in Eden—not as we shall be in heaven, if we are so happy as to reach
it, in a state of confirmed happiness—but as we are now upon earth, in a
condition of trial. His submission to God must be tested; and this was done in a
manner that exactly suited his condition. A garden as a residence became his
state of innocence—and the fruit of a particular tree equally well suited his
circumstances for the testing of his entire and implicit obedience and
subjection. The test was as easy as it was rational and suitable. Traditions of
the state of primeval felicity are current among many nations. They are
discoverable in Grecian and Roman history and in the pleasing fiction of the
poet’s golden age. To induce Adam to eat of the forbidden fruit was the scheme
of Satan for his fall. It is difficult to conceive in what other way he could
tempt them. And how did he succeed? You know the melancholy sequel. The assault
of the tempter was made upon woman. She was the selected victim of his wiles. It
is evident, therefore, that he regarded her while in a state of innocence, as
more easily to be vanquished than man; and considered her, even then, as the
weaker vessel. At the same time, does it not seem as if he had marked her out
from the beginning, as the chief instrument for accomplishing his future
purposes of mischief towards the family of man? Events have justified the
sagacity of his malice—for to her influence how much may be traced of the crimes
and calamities which desolate our earth. He saw in the conduct of the first
pair, the love which woman inspires and cherishes in the man—and was confident
that if he could subdue her, he might leave her to subdue the him. The apostle
in referring to this event, says, "Adam was not deceived, but the woman being
deceived, was first in the transgression." From the very creation, woman has
shown a feebler power of resistance, a greater pliancy of disposition, than man.
How Satan knew this, we are not informed; but that he did know it, is evident
from his commencing the assault on Eve instead of Adam. The passage just quoted
seems to imply all this. It is not meant that Adam did not sin, and was not
deceived by the tempter—but that the woman opposed a feebler resistance to the
temptation than the man would have done; and that the temptation as applied to
her mind, would have been ineffectual on him. To tempt and seduce him to sin,
there needed all the soft persuasions, the entreaties, and example of his wife.
Satan understood this, and approached man not with the specious argument of the
serpent—but through her irresistible allurements.

Some have supposed that Adam was not at all deceived by the tempter—that he saw
at once all his suggestions were lies; but that foreseeing what Eve had done,
how she had plunged herself into ruin, he, out of mere love to her, and with his
eyes open, determined to share her fate. But the apostle’s words do not
necessarily convey this—but merely that he was not deceived first, nor directly,
by the tempter—but afterwards, and by his wife. Her fall was occasioned by the
deception of Satan alone; his by the deception of Satan, aided by the persuasion
of the woman.

Having considered the Scriptural account of woman’s condition at the creation,
and the means by which, through her, the human race was brought into its present
state of sin and misery—we may next notice the very explicit and frequent
mention which is made in the Scriptures of her numerous relations in social
life, with the descriptions it gives of the various characters of women. It
certainly tends deeply to impress us with the importance of woman, and to raise
her in her own and in our estimation, to see how constantly she is brought
before us on the sacred page, in every part which she fills in life, as if the
duties connected with each were of vast consequence to society. Not one is
omitted; all are recognized and dwelt upon. Woman is ever before us in one or
other of her many relations to the community. Not only is there much said about
the son—but also about the DAUGHTER. This relationship is not only included in
the generic term of ’children’, but it is also set out by itself. How commonly
is it mentioned in connection with female children—"the sons and the daughters"
are spoken of. A beautiful instance of which we have in the words of the
psalmist, "that our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth; and our
daughters may be as corner-stones, polished after the similitude of a palace."
Or, as "corner-pillars, wrought like those of a palace," that is in their
fittest and best proportions, combining strength, beauty, and symmetry—both of
body and of soul—than which, no comparison can be more elegant and delicate. In
the exquisite poetry of the Hebrews, how commonly is this relationship employed
as the metaphor of countries, states, and cities! Jerusalem comes before us as
"the daughter of Zion," sometimes jubilant in her prosperity, at others, as in
the Lamentations of Jeremiah, covered with sackcloth and bathed in tears. The
word SISTER occurs almost in every portion of the Word of God, like a floweret,
lowly and lovely amid others of larger growth and more imposing form and color.
How sweet and gentle a spirit is sometimes seen in a sister’s form amid her
brothers’ more robust ones; and what a softening influence does the spell of her
fascinating tenderness throw over their cruder natures. We are thus reminded by
Scripture, that the younger female branches of the family are to be thought of
as having their separate claims upon parental regard and brotherly affections.
How many families are laid open in the Bible to our view, of which the sisters,
as well as the brothers, are brought prominently into notice.

How much may it be supposed would be said about the WIFE—and how much is said
about that close and endearing relation. To form the character, and direct the
conduct of the wife, is worth all the pains that have been bestowed by
innumerable writers; and we might have been very sure, even before we had read a
page of Scripture, that much would be there found concerning this relationship.
The book of Proverbs, that admirable directory for domestic and social life, is
quite a manual for wives, as well as for every other member of the family
circle. Unusual pains seem taken for the right formation of her character. How
frequently and how impressively does Solomon refer to woman, as sustaining this
close and tender relation. In what exalted and glowing terms does he speak of
it, when it comprehends the graces and the excellences which it should always
possess, "Whoever finds a wife finds a good thing." "A prudent wife is from the
Lord." Who has ever read, or can read, without admiration, the beautiful
description of a virtuous woman, in the closing chapter of the Proverbs? Can we
wonder that he who had this elevated idea of the value of such a companion,
should again and again exhort a husband to live joyfully with the wife of his
youth, and forsaking all others, cleave to her alone? In this he did but copy
the beautiful and poetic picture of wedded happiness which had been furnished to
him by his father David, if indeed he was the author of the Psalm, "Your wife
will be like a fruitful vine, flourishing within your home. And look at all
those children! There they sit around your table as vigorous and healthy as
young olive trees." "The vine," says Bishop Horne, "a lowly plant raised with
tender care, becoming by its luxuriance, its beauty, its fragrance, and its
clusters—the ornament and glory of the house to which it is joined, and by which
it is supported, forms the finest imaginable emblem of a fair, virtuous, and
faithful wife. The olive trees planted by the inhabitants of eastern countries,
around their banqueting places in their gardens, to cheer the eye by their
verdure and to refresh the body by their cooling shade, do no less aptly and
significantly set forth the pleasure which parents feel at the sight of a
numerous and flourishing offspring." On the other hand, Solomon directs all the
powers of his bitter eloquence and irony, against the degraded woman, whose
deadly work none has ever renounced with more holy indignation. How does he
brand the crime of the harlot in the second and fifth chapters of the book of
Proverbs; and with what awful correctness describe the conduct of the adulteress
in the seventh. Nor does he stop here, but descends to the characters of women,
who, though less guilty than those to whom we have just alluded, are still
deserving of severe reprobation, "The foolish woman who plucks her house down
with her hands." "The quarrelsome woman, whose society is more intolerable than
dwelling in a corner of the house-top, or in the wilderness." "The woman who
makes ashamed, who is a rottenness in the bones of her husband." "The odious
woman, whose marriage is one of the four things for which the earth is
disturbed, and which it cannot bear." "The beautiful woman without discretion,
whose beauty is like a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout." "The contentious
wife—as annoying as the constant dripping on a rainy day." This same Solomon, at
the period when he had reached a penitent and reformed old age, and when all the
events of his life had passed in review before him, is compelled to confess,
that he had sought in vain for a woman after his own heart—"I discovered that a
seductive woman is more bitter than death. Her passion is a trap, and her soft
hands will bind you. Those who please God will escape from her, but sinners will
be caught in her snare."

"This is my conclusion," says the Teacher. "I came to this result after looking
into the matter from every possible angle. I found one upright man among a
thousand—but not one upright woman among them all." Let not this passage,
however, be mistaken, as if it meant that it was Solomon’s opinion that the
number of good women is inferior to the number of good men. Observation and
general testimony assure us that this is not the truth. We are to consider where
he made his enquiry for female virtue, and under what circumstances it was made.
He who had crowded his court with wives and concubines, could little expect to
find female excellence in such a situation. Instead of concentrating his
affections on one woman as his wife, the partner of his joys and sorrows, and
seeking his happiness in drinking with her the sweet cup of wedded bliss, he had
gathered round him in his harem, for pride and sensuality, a multitude of women,
amid whose jealousies and contentions he could no more find happiness, than he
could find virtue amid their illicit pleasures. From such a scene virtue would
retire abashed and weeping. If, therefore, in this passage, he satirized the
female sex, he did it on unjust, unwise, and unmanly grounds.

"But," says Dr. Wardlaw, "I am far from thinking that he here speaks the
language of a disappointed and waspish satirist. He rather utters the feeling of
an abased and self-dissatisfied penitent, of one who had felt it to be ’an evil
and a bitter thing’ to depart as he had done from God; who remembered ’the
wormwood and the gall;’ who perceived and lamented the folly and the wickedness
of all those ’inventions,’ by which himself and others had sought to find out
happiness apart from the favor and the ways of God."

If we speak of woman as a MOTHER, how often does that endearing relationship
come before us in holy Scripture; both literally and metaphorically; in the Old
Testament and in the New; in the way of example and of precept. The maternal
relationship is the theme of constant reference, both for the sake of
illustrating other subjects, and for enforcing its own claims as those of the
female head of the household. Had this character been omitted, or only
introduced occasionally, and then invested with no more than a second-rate
importance, the Bible would have been lacking in one of its sweetest harmonies
with the feelings of nature, and one of its strongest appeals to the sympathies
of humanity—and we would have doubted if it had come from him who created woman
and gave her as a helper for man. The paternal character and relation are
maintained in their primary rank, authority, and dignity—no invasion is made
upon the prerogative, or usurpation of the rights of the father; he is not
called to yield his place of rule, his supremacy of condition, to the mother;
and yet how is all her proper rank and station and influence maintained. There
she is exhibited as being in the family circle, if not the circumference which
includes all, yet in one sense as the center in which husband and children all
meet. How resonant are the Scriptures with that sweet and tender name, how
redolent with the fragrance of that odoriferous word, how rich with the ornament
of that beautiful term, mother. There, is sustained the poet’s declaration—"A
mother is a mother still—The holiest thing alive."

If the mother’s importance be not known, her claims not conceded, her influence
not felt, her duties not rightly discharged, it is not the fault of the Bible,
which is the friend of society by exalting the maternal relationship. Nor is the
mistress of the family overlooked or forgotten nor her duties left out of
consideration. The WIDOW, that name of desolation, that sorrowful epithet, that
type of woe, meets us at every turn. She passes before us in her mourning
garments and in her tears, leading in her hand her fatherless children, and
saying to us, "Pity me, pity me, O my friends, for the hand of God has touched
me!" More is said about, and for, and to, this bereaved one, than any other
class of women—a circumstance which exhibits with uncommon force and beauty the
compassion of God. But there is a discrimination on this subject which shows the
wisdom as well as tenderness of God. Young widows are admonished, while aged and
helpless ones are comforted. Nor is the female SERVANT left out. A place for her
is found among the various other and higher ranks and conditions of her sex. Her
humble lot is recognized amid the provisions and commands of the Law, and was
announced and defended by the thunders of Mount Sinai. We find it protected by
precept and illustrated by example, as if woman in the lowest grade of society
should not be overlooked in the Bible, that blessed and glorious charter of
rights and privileges. There the little maid lifts up her head among the queens
and princesses of Scripture history! But the most impressive and important point
of view in which the subject can be placed, and the most convincing proof of the
effect produced by the Scriptures with regard to woman, is the very great number
and variety of female examples which they contain. It is one of the surpassing
excellences of the Bible, that it is replete with narrative, history, and
biography, and thus, apart from its sacred character and its momentous
importance, is one of the most interesting books in the world. It is full, not
only of precept, but of living acting patterns of the virtues which it
inculcates—and of the vices which it prohibits. It is a complete picture
gallery, in which we see portraits of every size, from the miniature to the
full-length painting; and in every degree of representation, from the mere
outline to the most finished production of the artist’s brush.

Among these it would have been strange if female characters had been lacking.
And they are not missing. There, amid kings, priests, warriors, and prophets,
are to be seen the portraits of "the holy women of the old time, who trusted in
God," as well as of those who disgraced themselves and dishonored their sex. In
the great drama of life, as it passes before us in the Bible, no trivial or
inconsiderable part is assigned to female characters. Woman’s place among the
dramatic personages is not that of some airy vision which lights upon our path,
and after surprising and dazzling us for a moment, immediately vanishes and is
seen no more—but of one of the veritable actors in almost every place and every
scene. The sacred volume opens, as we have already seen, with Eve in
Paradise—all beauty, innocence and smiles—as its lovely frontispiece. And then
shows us that same Eve, impelled by the vanity which she has bequeathed as a
mournful legacy to her daughters, reaching forth her hand, at the instigation of
the tempter, to pluck that fruit which was the test of her obedience—and the
seed of all our woe—and thus exhibiting to us the sad association of beauty with
sin. In tracing woman’s history, as it is set forth on the page of Scripture,
from Paradise as the starting point, we will look first at the darker side of
the narrative. How soon do we see Adah and Zillah, consenting to be the joint
wives of Lamech, and thus giving, for anything we can tell, the first example of
that bane of domestic happiness—polygamy!

Then come the "daughters of men," the women in the line of Cain, who made no
profession of religion, but lived in atheism, seducing and corrupting the "sons
of God," the male line of Seth and the professors of godliness—and thus by their
unsuitable and incongruous marriages and the universal corruption that
followed—creating the necessity for the waters of the deluge to wash away the
moral filth of the old world.

Hagar comes next, troubling the faith, charity and peace of Abraham; persecuting
the child of promise; and at the same time punishing by her waywardness, the
weakness of the patriarch, whose concubine she was.

Then that family of Lot, the poor, earthly-minded wife and mother, who was so
wedded to Sodom as to cast the lingering, longing look behind, which transformed
her into a pillar of salt; and the disgusting conduct of her incestuous
daughters, who showed too well how they had been corrupted by the place of their
abode—and how careful all parents should be to remove their children from the
polluting influence of evil examples.

What a revolting pattern of an adulterous woman, and of a cruel slanderer to
hide her shame—is Potiphar’s wife!

Then there was the ensnaring and successful temptation offered by the daughters
of Moab to the children of Israel in the wilderness.

How mighty and how fatal were the powers of harlotry in Delilah to subdue the
strength and extort the secrets of Sampson! And what a forcible picture of man’s
weakness before woman’s vicious wiles, have they furnished to all coming ages!
Who does not think of Bathsheba consenting to David’s wicked proposals, and thus
causing him for awhile to cease to be David, the man after God’s heart? And then
come the immoral women who threw even the mighty intellect of Solomon into the
awful eclipse of idolatry! And Jezebel, that Zidonian idolatress, who instigated
her husband to the murder of Naboth, and exasperated the mind of Ahab to a more
intense degree of wickedness than he would otherwise have attained lo! And
Athaliah, that turbulent and idolatrous queen mother, who counseled her son to
do wickedly, and was put to death by command of Jehoiada, the priest!

I have forborne, of course, to dwell on these examples and descriptions of
female immorality recorded in the Scriptures. It has been a matter of surprise,
perhaps almost of regret, to some, that such instances of depravity should have
been left on record. But shall we dispute either the wisdom, goodness, or purity
of God in these histories? Are not important ends to be answered by them in the
moral government of God—and in the religious history of man? A profligate woman
is at once the most odious, mischievous, and hateful member of the community! Is
it not every way proper, and even desirable, that such a character should be
held up to detestation and scorn, as a warning to her sex—and that God should
thus set a brand upon her with his own hand, and bear his indignant testimony
against her vices? The examples of this kind are all for our warning, to show in
instances from actual life the excessive odiousness of female depravity. This is
done in a manner the least likely to do harm, and the most likely to do good.
The descriptions of female turpitude in the word of God contain nothing to
inflame the imagination, or to stimulate the passions; nothing to make vice
seductive, by a half concealment of its odiousness; nothing to beat down the
guards of virtue, by associating sin with an amiable or interesting character,
or screening it by sophistical and insidious excuses or defenses. Vice is left
in all its naked and revolting deformity, all its nauseating loathsomeness, to
inspire disgust, and cause even ordinary virtue to recoil from the ugly and
filthy object.

How different the case with many works of fiction, both prosaic and poetic, in
which, though there may be a less particularity of sinful detail, there is
immeasurably more to corrupt the moral principles, to pollute the heart, and to
lead astray the youthful mind from the paths of virtue! What female reader of
the word of God can rise from contemplating even the worst characters, and
perusing the most vivid descriptions of the sins of her sex, without a stronger
love of purity, and a more deeply rooted hatred of iniquity? This is the answer
we would give to infidels, who sometimes affect to be prudish, and complain of
the descriptions and examples of female criminality which are contained in the
sacred volume. The use which every virtuous woman will make of them, is to be
inspired with a greater abhorrence of transgression, and a more holy and intense
desire to be kept from the most distant approach to it.

Coming forward to the New Testament, we meet with Herodias, exhibiting the
malignant and revengeful passions of a shameless woman, against the servant of
God, who had dared to reprove her paramour, and impelling Herod, against the
protest of his judgment, heart, and conscience, to put John the Baptist to
death, and so involve them both in murder. And here also we read of the Jewish
women that encouraged and stimulated to violence the mob that persecuted Paul
and Barnabas—and "That woman Jezebel, who called herself a prophetess, and
taught and seduced God’s servants to commit fornication, and to eat things
sacrificed to idols." In such instances as these, female pride, wherever it
exists, may find some check to its exercise, and some motive to humility. To
those females who are prone to think of their sex more highly than they ought,
we present these examples of woman’s frailty, which the pen of inspiration has
drawn upon the page of Scripture. While to those of the other sex, if there are
any, who are apt to glory over fallen women, we would, after reminding them that
some of these instances are the result of their own seductions, present the
brighter side of the picture. We would also call upon women to contemplate for
their own encouragement the beautiful specimens of female excellence, with
which, like so many stars of various magnitudes, the skies of Scripture is
studded.

There is Sarah, who, notwithstanding her many failings, was unquestionably a
good and even a great woman. In her case, as in many others, her beauty became a
snare to others, if not dangerous to her own virtue, and placed the life of her
husband in peril. Still she is presented by the apostle Peter as one of the holy
women of old, who were patterns of domestic virtue and piety. For her defects,
which consisted of a weakness of faith, leading to some strange domestic
arrangements that brought their own punishment, were surrounded with the
brightness of many excellences, in which, if they were not entirely lost, they
were at any rate diminished. She was a pattern of conjugal fidelity, sweet
simplicity, and a just matronly jealousy towards the stranger who had been
brought for awhile so unwisely into her place. Her faith in God’s promise was
strong, though shaken for a moment by the improbabilities of the promised
blessing.

Rebekah’s earlier and latter life presents to us a somewhat painful contrast.
None can read the beautiful account of the mission of Abraham’s servant to her
father without admiration of the good qualities of the damsel who is the heroine
of the story, her industrious habits, her unaffected and artless simplicity, her
genuine yet not silly modesty, her graceful courtesy, her humane consideration
of the comfort of the brute creation. What a bright pattern is here for the
imitation of young people. But oh! her unbelieving, injudicious, and sinful
contrivances to bring about the bestowment of the Divine blessing upon the heir
of promise, by the wicked imposition which she practiced upon her aged and blind
husband! Mothers, read it, and learn to guard against sinful contrivances to get
good for your children. Rebekah, however, was a good, though a mistaken woman.
In Miriam, the watchful sentinel beside the waters of the Nile, of the ark which
contained the infant Moses, we see first the dutiful daughter and anxious
sister; and, in after life, the coadjutor of her illustrious brother, leading
the chorus of women by her timbrel and her voice, in his triumphal song, on the
borders of the Red Sea—afterwards, in conjunction with Aaron, she became his
opponent through envy—but we may hope was restored to her better and earlier
mind, through the chastisement she received from the Lord. How much mischief may
ENVY do to spoil the best of characters, and to poison the happiness of
families! In Deborah, we contemplate the religious heroine, and the inspired
poetess, raised up by the special Providence of God, for the deliverance of his
people; an instance of exalted piety in an age of depressed religion, and still
deeper national distress. Should it be asked by any one, what we are to say of
Jael, celebrated by the poetess Deborah, in her lofty strain of praise, I
scarcely know what answer to give. Nothing less than a Divine mandate, which she
may have received in some unknown and unrecorded manner, could have justified
the deed. Apart from this, even the stratagems of war would not clear the
heroine from the charge of treachery of the blackest kind. True, Sisera was an
enemy; but he had trusted himself to her protection, and she slew him while
sleeping under her guardianship. I leave the matter therefore as I find it,
without either justifying or condemning it, for I know not all the facts of the
case.

What a pattern of filial obedience, piety, and patriotism, have we in Jephtha’s
daughter, over whose affecting story hangs so deep a mystery. Whether, according
to the opinions of some, she was actually offered up in sacrifice; or according
to others, was only consecrated by perpetual virginity to God, her beautiful
character shines out with equal brightness, in all that is amiable, dutiful, and
submissive. But now turn to that touching and melancholy group of widows in the
land of Moab, Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah. What pen but that which has done it, and
done it with such inimitable simplicity, could do justice to this sweet and
touching story? Rarely in the history of families does such a scene of
affliction as this occur—a widowed mother, and the widows of her two sons! A sad
proof how precarious are all the scenes of dear domestic bliss we fondly call
our own. How tender, how dignified, and how thoughtful, is the conduct of Naomi!
What nobleness of resolution, what daughter-like attachment, and what piety, do
we see in Ruth! If in her after-conduct there was that which would not suit the
meridian of our age and country, there was nothing contrary to the strictest
purity of intention, or modesty of conduct, if we take into account the
circumstances of her time, and the provisions of the Jewish law under which she
lived. The whole narrative presents a beautiful episode in Jewish history, and
an attractive specimen of the simplicity of early manners. Can we fail to
sympathize with Hannah in her sorrows, her insults, and her joys, or to admire
her zeal for the Lord, in devoting her child of promise to his service? What a
pattern for parents willingly to give up their sons for ministers and
missionaries!

Abigail furnishes us with a striking example of the singular prudence of a woman
who was unhappily associated with a drunkard and a churl, and of her diligence
and tact in averting from her family the evils impending over it from her
husband’s vices.

What an instance of respect, gratitude, and affection for the ministers of
religion, of female influence, rightly exerted over the mind of her husband in
the cause of religion, and of submission to the will of God, is the Shunamite!
Who can read that touching account of the death of her only son, and her own
collected, composed, and energetic conduct on the occasion, without deep feeling
and high admiration? We find in her no overwhelming or distracting grief
preventing her from adopting the best, the only means for obtaining relief, but
a faith which sustained her courage, and directed all her actions. Multitudes in
every age and country, where the story has gone, have been instructed by her
language, and stimulated by her example; and amid their deepest sorrows, have
echoed her few noble monosyllables in reply to the question, "Is it well with
you? With your husband? With your child? And she answered and said, It is well."
And then what a pattern of fidelity, and piety, and kindness, do we find for
female servants in the very next chapter, in the simple and beautiful story of
the little Hebrew captive girl, who was nurse-maid in Naaman’s family! All, and
especially those who occupy a similar situation, may learn, by what weak and
humble instruments God may accomplish his purposes, and work out the schemes of
his Providence. To how many a charity sermon in these remote days has that
incident furnished a text; and thus the little Jewish slave not only brought
healing to her master, and a knowledge of the true God into Syria, but became a
pattern to myriads of children in our own country! Nor less to be admired are
the generosity and faith of the widow of Sarepta, whose barrel of meal and cruse
of oil stand out in such relief, among the brightest pictures of Old Testament
history. In what a coruscation of glory does the name of Esther blaze forth upon
us, for conjugal fidelity, piety uncorrupted by prosperity, and queenly
influence consecrated to the cause of true religion!

Now open the page of the New Testament. Is Christianity destitute of female
worthies, women of holy renown? It would be very strange if it were. Strange,
indeed, if His religion, who, though he was the Son of God, was born of woman,
did not raise up many who should shine forth in all the mild and heavenly
radiance of female piety.

Though, as I have said in the last chapter, we ascribe no divine honors and
offer no idolatrous homage to the Virgin Mary, nor set her forth in the beauties
of painting and sculpture; nor call her, with a singular mixture of absurdity
and blasphemy "the Mother of God." We revere her as blessed and exalted among
women, to give birth to the humanity of Christ, the Savior of the world; and
ascribe to her every holy and general excellence as a woman, a wife, a mother,
and a godly believer. (In an age when Popery is lifting up its head in triumph,
and with hope, no fair opportunity should be lost to expose its pretensions and
refute its errors. There is no part of this dreadful system more contrary to
Scripture, or more insulting to God, than its Mariolatry, or worship of the
Virgin Mary. She is titled, "Mother of God" "Queen of Seraphim, Saints, and
Prophets" "Advocate of Sinners" "Refuge of Sinners" "Gate of Heaven" "Queen of
Heaven." And as the same titles are ascribed to her, or nearly so, as are
ascribed to Christ; so is the same worship paid to her as to the Savior.
Churches are built to her honor; her shrines are crowded with devotees, enriched
with their gifts, and adorned with their votive offerings. Prayers are offered
to her, her praises are chanted in hymns, thanksgivings are addressed to her,
and blessings are asked from her, as one who has power to bestow them. Seven
annual festivals celebrate her greatness, and keep alive the devotion of her
worshipers. So that Papists almost shut out the worship due to the Father and
the Savior by their idolatry of her. Now where, we ask, is one single example,
command, or even hint, for all this, in the Word of God? Is it any wonder the
Scriptures are kept from the people, when the most common understanding could
see that nothing of all this is to be found in that sacred volume? The Acts of
the Apostles make mention of her name but once, and that without any mark of
eulogy; and in the Epistles she is not mentioned at all. Yes, how contrary is
all this to the declaration that there is only one Mediator between God and man,
the Man Jesus Christ. "This doctrine of the worship due to the Virgin," says
Wylie, in his admirable work on the Papacy, "has been exhibited in symbol, and
that in so grotesque a way that for a moment we forget its blasphemy. In the
dream of St. Bernard, which forms the subject of an altar-piece at Milan, two
ladders were seen reaching from earth to heaven. At the top of one of the
ladders stood Christ, and at the top of the other stood Mary. Of those who
attempted to enter heaven by the ladder of Christ, not one succeeded, all fell
back. Of those who ascended by the ladder of Mary, not one failed. The Virgin
prompt to support, stretched out her hand; and thus aided, the aspirants
ascended with ease.")

We cherish also a high veneration for Elizabeth her cousin, the wife of
Zacharias, and the mother of John the Baptist. In the piety of old Anna, we see
a bright pattern for aged widows in her posture, believing and waiting for the
consolation of Israel, and an example for an aged saint, ready for the coming of
the Lord Jesus Christ—the zeal, so worthy to be imitated by every reclaimed
sinner, of the woman of Samaria, after she had believed in Christ, for his
honor, and the conversion of her countrymen—the melting penitence of the woman
who had been a sinner, whose history teaches us that the most abandoned people
may be reclaimed, and find mercy, and that penitence, gratitude, and love,
should be in proportion to the guilt contracted and forgiven—the invincible
faith of the Syrophenician woman, which received such admiration from Christ,
and will teach the latest generations of mankind the power of importunate,
persevering, and believing prayer—the generosity of the poor widow who cast in
two mites, the whole of her substance, into the treasury of the temple—the
beautiful account of the two sisters, Martha and Mary, and the delineation in
it, of the characters of the careful and troubled housewife, and the anxious
inquirer after salvation—the pouring out of the box of spikenard by one that
loved Christ so much as to give her costliest offerings to his person—the
grateful, devoted attention and ministrations of Mary Magdalene and the other
Mary to Christ. What an array of female excellence is here!

Passing on to the Acts of the Apostles, what delightful mention is made of
Dorcas, full of good works and alms-deeds which she did, as evinced by her coats
and garments for the poor, and the tears which were produced by her death, and
which embalmed her memory—and of Lydia, who resorted to the place of prayer at
Philippi, whose heart the Lord had opened to attend to the things spoken by
Paul, and who afforded the rites of hospitality to the apostle and his
companion—and of the chief women, not a few, at Thessalonica, who believed in
the apostle’s doctrine concerning Christ. Nor are the epistles barren of female
names deserving ever to be held in remembrance for their piety, zeal, and good
works. There we find Phoebe, the deaconess and bearer to Rome of the epistle to
the church in that city; and Euodia, and Syntyche; Lois and Eunice, the mother
and grandmother of Timothy, renowned for the sincere faith which dwelt in them;
and those women also that labored with Paul in the gospel. And what shall we say
more of Priscilla, Paul’s helper in Christ, and the instructress of the eloquent
Apollos; and Mary, "who bestowed much labor upon him," and Tryphena, and
Tryphosa, and Julia, "who labored in the Lord?"

No, my female friends, you see, we repeat, the Scriptures of truth have not
passed over your sex in silence, nor thrust it into a corner, nor thrown it into
the shade. On the contrary, the sacred page is rich and luminous with bright and
beautiful examples of female excellence. You stand there side by side with man
in the practice of piety, and are exhibited as not a whit behind him in all that
appertains to the grandeur of humanity! In the Bible, we have now proved that
woman is seen in every gradation of rank, from the queen upon the throne, to the
menial grinding at the mill—in every variety of condition, the maid, the wife,
the mother, and the mistress; in every circumstance of grief and joy, the happy
bride, the mourning widow—in every phase of moral character, the faithful spouse
and the shameless adulteress—in every scene of active duty, whether in the
family, the church, or the world—in every changeful aspect of fortune, rolling
in affluence or pining in poverty—there she is seen enlivening the sacred page
with her narrative, adorning it with her beauty—sometimes darkening it with her
crimes, at others brightening it with her virtues—now calling us to weep with
her in her sorrows, then to rejoice with her in her joys. In short, woman is
everywhere to be found wrought into the details of God’s Scriptures—a beacon to
warn us—or a lamp to guide us. And all the notices being written by the
inspiration of the Holy Spirit are to be considered as his testimony to the
excellence and importance of your sex, and the influence it is intended and
destined to exert upon the welfare of mankind. Had the Bible, I will not say
been against you, but had it passed you over in silence, or only referred to you
incidentally, or looked at you with sidelong glances, you would have sunk in
general estimation; and man’s neglect of you would have been defended or excused
by that of God himself. But now no one can plead the example of the Bible for
any attempt to neglect, despise, or oppress you. While it protects woman from
the insults, the injuries, and the oppression of the other sex, it saves her
with no less care and benefit from the sad effects which would arise from the
assumption of prerogatives which do not belong to her, and from those excesses
of ambition to which her own vanity might otherwise prompt her. It guards her
dignity from being trampled down by others, and equally prevents her from
lowering it herself, by pretensions which would only make her ridiculous. It
describes with accuracy the circle within which it is the will of Providence she
should move; presents to her the mission which she is sent into the world to
fulfill; furnishes her the rules by which she is to act; proposes to her the
rewards which she may legitimately seek and surely expect, if she be faithful to
herself—and offers her the assistance necessary for the fulfillment of her high
and holy vocation. What this is will be the subject of our next chapter. In the
meanwhile, let me exhort you not only to study the Scriptures, to learn the way
of salvation through faith in Christ Jesus, but to study them, in order to form
your own character as women, by their precepts and their examples. Many and
precious are the volumes that have been written for your benefit by your own
sex. Female pens have been most happily and usefully employed in delineating
female excellence, in writings which you would do well to read. But after all,
there is no guide for the formation of female character, morally or spiritually
considered, like the inspired one. A woman unacquainted with the Bible, and
ignorant of its contents, as affecting her own conduct, character, and history,
has yet to know the finest patterns of female loveliness. The Bible is the best
mirror by which most accurately to know what you are, and to become what you
should be; before which you may adjust all the moral clothings of the soul, and
from which you may go forth adorned with all the beauties of holiness, clothed
with the garment of purity, and decorated with the ornament of a meek and quiet
spirit. (The author is indebted for some things in this chapter and the next to
an incomparably beautiful little work by Adolphe Monod, formerly professor of
Theology at Montauban, but now Minister of the French Reformed Church in Paris.)


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  CHAPTER 77: 06.03.     WOMAN'S MISSION
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Woman’s Mission The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I
will make a helper suitable for him." Genesis 2:18

"What, in the great, and diversified, and busy world, is my place and my
business?" is a question which every one should ask. For every one has a place
to fill, and a part to act. And to act his part well, according to the will of
God, in the lofty drama of human life, should be the ambition, solicitude, and
prayer of each of us. It is the first lesson of wisdom, to know our place; the
second, to keep it. And of course, corresponding with this, to ascertain the
duties of our place and to discharge them. There are generic ’class’ duties for
women, as well as ’individual’ ones, and the latter are generally to be more
accurately learned by an intelligent apprehension of the former.

Woman, as such, has her mission. What is it? What is precisely the station she
is to occupy—what the purpose she is to fulfill, above which she would be unduly
exalted, and below which she would be unjustly degraded? This is a subject which
should be thoroughly understood, in order that she may know what to claim, and
man what to concede; that she may know what she has to do, and he what he has a
right to expect.

I shall endeavor to answer this question, and point out the nature of woman’s
mission. In doing this, I shall consult the infallible oracle of Scripture, and
not the speculations of moralists, economists, and philosophers. I hold this to
be our rule in the matter before us. God is the Creator of both sexes, the
constructor of society, the author of social relations, and the arbiter of
social duties, claims, and freedoms. And this is admitted by all who believe in
the authority of the Bible. You are content, my female friends, to abide by the
decisions of this oracle. You have every reason to be so. He who created you is
best qualified to declare the intention of his own acts, and you may safely, as
you should humbly allow him to fix your position, and make known your duties. In
common with man, woman has a heavenly calling to glorify God as the end of her
existence, and to perform all the duties and enjoy all the blessings of a
religious life; like him, she is a sinful, rational, and immortal creature,
placed under an economy of mercy, and called, by repentance towards God and
faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, to eternal life. Religion is as much her
vocation as that of the other sex. In Christ Jesus there is neither male nor
female, but all are on a level as to obligations, duties, and privileges. In
common with man, she is called, where she is unmarried and dependent, to labor
for her own support; a condition to which large portions of the community are
necessarily subject by the circumstances of their birth. Diligence in labor is
as incumbent upon her as upon the other sex, and indolence is as inexcusable in
her as in man. But in the married state, her sphere of labor, is her FAMILY—and
it belongs to the husband to earn by the sweat of his brow, not only his own
bread, but that of the household. In many of the uncivilized tribes, where the
ameliorating influence of Christianity is not felt, the wife is the drudge of
the family, while the husband lives in lordly sloth; and even in this country,
at least in its manufacturing portions, manual labor falls too often, and too
heavily upon married women, greatly to the detriment of their families. An
unmarried woman, however, without fortune, must provide for herself in some way
or other, according to the circumstances of her birth and situation; and let her
not consider herself degraded by it. Honest industry is far more honorable than
pride and sloth. But neither of these is the peculiar mission of woman, as
appertaining to her sex. To know what this is, we must, as I have said, consult
the page of revelation, and ascertain the declared motive of God for her
creation. The Lord God said—It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make
a helper suitable for him." This is further expressed, or rather repeated, where
it is said, "And Adam," or "Although Adam, had given names to all cattle, and to
the fowl of the air, and to every beast of the field; yet for Adam there was not
found an suitable helper for him." Nothing can be more clear from this, than
that woman was made for man.

Adam was created a being with unmet social propensities, which indeed seem
essential to all creatures. It is the sublime peculiarity of Deity to be
entirely independent for happiness of all other beings. He, and He only, is the
theater of his own glory, the fountain of his own felicity, and a sufficient
object of his own contemplation, needing nothing for his bliss but
self-communion. An archangel alone in heaven would pine, even there, for some
companionship, either divine or angelic. Adam, surrounded by all the glories of
Paradise, and by all the various tribes it contained, found himself alone, and
needed companionship. Without it his life was but a solitude, Eden itself a
desert. Endowed with a nature too communicative to be satisfied from himself
alone, he sighed for friendship, for support, for some complement to his
existence, and only half-lived so long as he lived alone. Formed to think, to
speak, to love, his thoughts yearned for other thoughts with which to compare
and exercise his soaring aspirations. His words were wearisomely wasted upon the
wanton air, or at best awoke but an echo which mocked instead of answering him.
His love, as regards an earthly object, knew not where to bestow itself; and
returning to his own bosom, threatened to degenerate into a desolating egotism.
His entire being longed, in short, for another self, but that other self did not
exist; there was no helper suitable for him. The visible creatures which
surrounded him, were too much beneath him—the invisible Being who gave him life
was too much above him, to unite their condition with his own. Whereupon God
made woman, and the great problem was immediately solved.

It was, then, the characteristic of unfallen man to want someone to sympathize
with him in his joys, as it is of fallen man to want some one to sympathize with
him in his sorrows. Whether Adam was so far conscious of his wants as to ask for
a companion, we are not informed. It would appear from the inspired record, as
if the design of this precious blessing originated with God; and as if Eve, like
so many of his other mercies, was the spontaneous bestowment of God’s own free
and sovereign will. Thus Adam would have to say, as did one of his most
illustrious descendants many ages afterwards, "You go before me with your
goodness." Here, then, is the design of God in creating woman—to be a suitable
helpmate to man. Man needed a companion, and God gave him woman. And as there
was no other man than Adam at that time in existence, Eve was designed
exclusively for Adam’s comfort; thus, teaching us from the beginning, that
whatever mission woman may have to accomplish in reference to man, in a generic
sense, her mission, at least in wedded life, is to be a suitable help-mate for
that one man to whom she is united.

It was declared from the beginning, that every other tie, though not severed by
marriage, shall be rendered subordinate, and a man shall "leave his father and
mother and cleave unto his wife, and the two shall be one flesh." If then,
woman’s mission in Paradise was to be man’s companion and joy, such must be the
case still. Her vocation has not been changed by the fall. By that catastrophe,
man needs still more urgently a companion, and God has rendered this, her
mission, still more explicit by the declaration, "Your desire shall be to your
husband and he shall rule over you."

It has been often shown that by being taken from himself, she was equal to man
in nature; while the very part of the body from which she was abstracted
indicated the position she was intended to occupy. She was not taken from the
head, to show she was not to rule over him; nor from his foot, to teach that she
was not to be his slave; nor from his hand, to show that she was not to be his
tool; but from his side, to show that she was to be his companion. There may
perhaps be more of ingenuity and fancy in this, than of God’s original design;
but if a mere conceit, it is at once both pardonable and instructive. That woman
was intended to occupy a position of subordination and dependence, is clear from
every part of the Word of God. This is declared in language already quoted,
"Your desire shall be to your husband, and he shall rule over you." This
referred not only to Eve personally, but to Eve representatively. It was the
Divine law of the relation of the sexes, then promulgated for all time. The
preceding language placed woman as a punishment for her sin, in a state of
sorrow; this places her in a state of subjection. Her husband was to be the
center of her earthly desires, and to a certain extent, the regulator of them
also—and she was to be in subjection to him. What was enacted in Paradise, has
been confirmed by every subsequent dispensation of grace. The Old Testament
fully supports this truth, in all its provisions. And Christianity equally
establishes it.

I shall here introduce and explain the words of the apostle, "I would have you
to know, that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of the woman is the
man." He then goes on to direct that women should not, unveiled and with their
hair cut off, exercise the miraculous gifts which were sometimes bestowed upon
them; and adds, "A man indeed ought not to cover his head, forasmuch as he is
the image and glory of God but the woman is the glory of the man. Neither was
the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man." For the explanation
of this passage, I remark, that in the times of the apostles there were two
recognized characteristic emblems of the female sex, when they appeared in
public, veils, and the preservation of their tresses. It would seem from the
apostle’s remarks, as if some of the female members of the Corinthian Church,
during the time that the inspiration of the Holy Spirit was upon them, cast off
their veils, after the manner of the heathen priestesses when they delivered the
responses of the oracles. This conduct the apostle reproves, and informs them
that if the veil were thrown aside, they might as well also cut off their
flowing hair, which is one of woman’s distinctions from man, and is by all
nations considered the ornament, as well as the peculiarity of the female sex.

We may pause for a moment, to observe how constantly and completely Christianity
is the parent of order, and the enemy of indecorum of every kind. Why were not
the women to lay aside their veils? Because it would be forgetting their
subordination and dependence, and assuming an equal rank with man. This is the
gist of the apostle’s reason. It was not merely indecorous, and contrary to
modesty, but it was a ardent desire for rank, fame, or power, and violating the
order of heaven. The other expressions of the apostle in this passage are very
strong. As Christ is the head, or ruler of man, so man is the head and ruler of
woman, in the domestic economy. Man was made to show forth God’s glory and
praise; to be in subordination to him, and only to him; while woman was created
to be, in addition to this, the glory of man, by being in subordination to him,
as his helper and his ornament. She was not only made out of him, but for him.
All her loveliness, attractions, and purity, are not only the expressions of her
excellence, but of his honor and dignity, since all were not only derived from
him, but made for him. This then is woman’s true position, and if anything more
need be said to prove it from the records of Christianity, we may refer to
apostolic language in other places, where wives are enjoined to be subject to
their husbands in all things, even as the church is subject to Christ. Nor is
the apostle Paul alone in this, for Peter writes in the same strain. Let woman
then bow to this authority, nor feel herself degraded by such submission. It has
been said, that in domestic life, man shines as the sun, but woman as the moon,
with a splendor borrowed from the man. May it not be said with greater truth and
propriety, and less invidiously, that man shines as the primary planet,
reflecting the glory of God, who is the center of the moral universe; and woman
while she equally derives her splendor from the central luminary and is governed
by his attraction, is yet the satellite of man, revolves around him, follows him
in his course, and ministers to him.

Behold, then, we say again, woman’s position and mission—it is summed up in love
and subjection to her husband. "Everything connected with the relationship of
man and woman has, however, since the fall, a more serious character; her love
has become more anxious; her humility more profound. Bashful of her own defects,
and anxious to reinstate herself in her husband’s heart, woman lives to repair
the wrong she has inflicted on man, and lavishes upon him consolations which may
sweeten the present bitterness of sin, and warnings which may preserve from the
future bitterness of hell."

Woman, then, whatever relation she may bear to society at large, whatever
duties, in consequence of this relation, she may have to discharge, and whatever
benefits, by the right discharge of these duties she may have it in her power to
confer upon the community, must consider herself chiefly called to advance the
comfort of man in his private relations; by promoting his peace, to promote her
own; and to receive from him all that respect, protection, and ever assiduous
affection, to which her equal nature, her companionship, and her devotedness,
give her so just a claim.

She is, in wedded life, to be his constant companion, in whose companionship he
is to find one, who meets him hand to hand, eye to eye, lip to lip, and heart to
heart—to whom he can unburden the secrets of a heart pressed down with care, or
wrung with anguish; whose presence shall be to him above all other friendship;
whose voice shall be his sweetest music; whose smiles his brightest
sunshine—from whom he shall go forth with regret, and to whose company he shall
return with willing feet, when the toils of the day are over; who shall walk
near his loving heart, and feel the throbbing of affection as her arm leans on
his, and presses on his side. In his hours of private companionship, he shall
tell her all the secrets of his heart; find in her all the capabilities, and all
the promptings, of the most tender and endeared fellowship; and in her gentle
smiles, and unrestrained speech, enjoy all to be expected in one who was given
by God to be his companion and friend. In that companionship which woman was
designed to afford to man, must of course be included the sympathetic offices of
the comforter. It is hers, in their hours of retirement, to console and cheer
him; when he is injured or insulted, to heal the wounds of his troubled spirit;
when burdened by care, to lighten his load by sharing it; when groaning with
anguish, to calm by her peace-speaking words the tumult of his heart; and act,
in all his sorrows, the part of a ministering angel. Nor should she be backward
to offer, nor he backward to receive, the counsels of wisdom, which her prudence
will suggest, even though she may not be intimately acquainted with all the
entanglements of this world’s business. Woman’s advice, had it been asked and
acted upon, would have saved thousands of men from bankruptcy and ruin. Few men
have ever had to regret their taking counsel from a prudent wife; while
multitudes have had to reproach themselves for their folly in not asking, and
multitudes more for not following, the counsels of such a companion.

If, then, this is woman’s mission according to the representation of her
Almighty Creator, to be the suitable help-mate of that man, to whom she has
given herself as the companion of his pilgrimage upon earth, it of course
supposes that marriage, contracted with a due regard to prudence, and under all
proper regulations, is the natural state of both man and woman. And so, I
affirm, in truth it is. Providence has willed it, and nature prompts it. But as
the exceptions are so numerous, is there no mission for those to whom the
exception appertains? Is it married women only, who have a mission, and an
important one? Certainly not! In these cases, I fall back upon woman’s mission
to society at large. And is not this momentous? Has it not been admitted in all
ages, and by all countries, that the influence of female character upon social
virtue and happiness, and upon national strength and prosperity, is prodigious,
whether for good or for evil? Is not the declaration with which Adolphe Monod
opens his beautiful treatise, perfectly true? "The greatest influence on earth
whether for good or for evil, is possessed by woman! Let us study the history of
by-gone ages, the state of barbarism and civilization; of the east and the west;
of Paganism and Christianity; of antiquity and the middle ages; of the mediaeval
and modern times; and we shall find that there is nothing which more decidedly
separates them than the condition of woman." Every woman, whether rich or poor,
married or single, has a circle of influence, within which, according to her
character, she is exerting a certain amount of power for good—or harm. Every
woman—by her virtue or her vice—by her folly or her wisdom—by her levity or her
dignity—is adding something to our national elevation or degradation. As long as
female virtue is prevalent, upheld by one sex, and respected by the other, a
nation cannot sink very low in the scale of ignominy, by plunging into the
depths of vice. To a certain extent, woman is the conservator of her nation’s
welfare. Her virtue, if firm and uncorrupted, will stand sentinel over that of
the empire. Law, justice, liberty, and the arts, all contribute of course, to
the well-being of a nation; beneficial influence flows in from various
springs—and innumerable contributors may be at work, each laboring in his
vocation for his country’s well-being, but let the general tone of female morals
be low, and all will be rendered nugatory—while the universal prevalence of
womanly intelligence and virtue will swell the stream of civilization to its
highest level, impregnate it with its richest qualities, and spread its
fertility over the widest surface! A community is not likely to be overthrown
where woman fulfills her mission; for by the power of her noble heart over the
hearts of others, she will raise it from its ruins, and restore it again to
prosperity and joy. Here, then, beyond the circle of wedded life, as well as
within it, is no doubt part of woman’s mission, and an important one it is. Her
field is social life, her object is social happiness, her reward is social
gratitude and respect.

"If any female," says Mr. Upham, "should think these pages worthy of her
perusal, let her gather the lesson from these statements, that woman’s influence
does not terminate, as is sometimes supposed, with the molding and the guidance
of the minds of children; her task is not finished when she sends abroad those
whom she has borne and nurtured in her bosom, on their pilgrimage of action and
duty in this wide world. Far from it! Man is neither safe in himself, nor
profitable to others, when he lives dissociated from that benevolent influence
which is to be found in woman’s presence and character; an influence which is
needed in the projects and toils of mature life, in the temptations and trials
to which that period is especially exposed, and in the weakness and sufferings
of age, hardly less than in childhood and youth.

"But it is not woman—gay, frivolous, and unbelieving—or woman separated from
those divine teachings which make all hearts wise, that can lay claim to the
exercise of such an influence. But when she adds to the traits of sympathy,
forbearance, and warm affection, which characterize her, the strength and wisdom
of a well-cultivated intellect, and the still higher attributes of godly faith
and holy love, it is not easy to limit the good she may do in all situations,
and in all periods of life."

If I am right as to the nature of woman’s mission, I cannot err as to the PROPER
SPHERE of it. If she was created for man, and not only for the race of man, but
for one man, then the easy and necessary inference is, that HOME is the proper
sphere of woman’s action and influence. There are few terms in the language
around which cluster so many blissful associations as that delight of every
English heart, the word home. The paradise of love—the nursery of virtue—the
garden of enjoyment—the temple of harmony—the circle of all tender
relationships—the playground of childhood—the dwelling of adulthood—the retreat
of old age—where health loves to enjoy its pleasures, wealth to revel in its
luxuries, and poverty bears its rigors—where best sickness can endure its pains,
and dissolving nature expire—which throws its spell over those who are within
its charmed circle, and even sends its attractions across oceans and continents,
drawing to itself the thoughts and wishes of the man who wanders from it, to the
opposite end on the globe—this, home, sweet home—is the sphere of wedded woman’s
mission! Is it any hardship upon woman, any depreciation of her importance, to
place her sphere of action and influence there? Is it to assign her a circle of
influence unworthy of herself, to call her to preside over that little
community, of which home is the seat? Shall we estimate the importance of such a
scene of action? Shall we tell of the varied and momentous interests which are
included in that circle? Shall we speak of the happiness of a husband, whose
bliss, to so considerable an extent, is created by herself—and which involves
her own happiness; or the character and future well-being for both worlds of her
children? or the comfort of servants, and the order and pleasant working of the
whole domestic constitution, all which depend so much upon her? Why to make one
such home a seat of holiness and happiness; to fill one such sphere with an
influence so sweet and sacred; to throw the fascination of wedded delight and of
maternal influence over one such home; to irradiate so many faces with delight;
to fill so many hearts with contentment, and to prepare so many characters for
their future part in life—such an object would be deemed by an angel worth an
incarnation upon earth! Or from this sense of her duties, shall we look abroad
upon the public good, the strength and stability of the nation? Who knows not
the springs of an empire’s prosperity lie in the domestic constitution, and in
well trained families? Even one such family is a contribution to the majestic
flow of a nation’s greatness. Can such families exist without a woman’s care,
and oversight, and wisdom? Has it not grown into a proverb, that home has ever
been the nursery of great men, and their mothers their instructresses? It may be
said as a general principle, that woman is not only the mother of the body, but
of the character, of her children. To her is first entrusted the instruction of
the mind, the cultivation of the heart, the formation of the life. Thought,
feeling, will, imagination, virtue, religion, or the contrary moral tendencies,
all germinate under her fostering influence. "The greatest power in the moral
world is that which a mother exercises over her young child." The decisive
moment in education is the starting point. The dominant direction which is to
determine the whole course of life, lies concealed in the first years of
infancy; and these belong to the mother.

One of the most hallowed, lovely, and beautiful sights in our world is, a woman
at home discharging in all the meekness of wisdom, the various duties of wife
and mother, with an order that nothing is allowed to disturb; a patience which
nothing can exhaust; an affection which is never ruffled; and a perseverance
that no difficulties can interrupt, nor any disappointments arrest—in short,
such a scene as that described by the writer of the most exquisite chapter of
the Proverbs. Eve in Paradise, in all her untainted loveliness, by the side of
Adam, propping the lily, training the vine, or directing the growth of the rose;
shedding upon him, and receiving, reflected back from his noble countenance upon
her happy spirit, such smiles as told in silent language, their perfect and
mutual bliss, was no doubt, a brighter image of perfect virtue and undisturbed
felicity; but to me, a woman in our fallen world, guiding in piety,
intelligence, and all matronly and motherly excellences, the circle of a home
made happy chiefly by her influence, presents a scene little inferior in beauty,
and far superior as a display of virtue and intelligence, to that of which our
first mother was the center even in her original perfections. And it is
imagination, and not reason and moral taste, that can revel in the mind’s
pictures of Eve in Paradise, and not feel warmer admiration in the actual
presence of such a woman as I have described. But it will, perhaps, be asked,
whether I would shut up every married woman within the domestic circle, and,
with the jealousy and authority of an oriental despot, confine her to her own
home; or whether I would condemn and degrade her to mere household drudgery. I
have, I think, protected myself already from this imputation, by representing
her as the companion, counselor, and comforter of man. She shall, with my
consent, never sink from the side of man, to be trampled under his feet. She
shall not have one ray of her glory extinguished, nor be deprived of a single
honor that belongs to her sex; but to be the instructress of her children, the
companion of her husband, and the queen partner of the domestic state, is no
degradation—and she only is degraded who thinks so!

Still in connection with, though not in neglect of, this, let her give her
influence upon society to the circle of her friends on all suitable occasions,
and in all suitable places. Though the drawing-room is not the chief sphere of
her influence, it is one of the circles in which she may move; and albeit
incessant parties of pleasure, and a constant round of entertainments, are not
her mission, but oppose and hinder it; yet she is occasionally to bestow that
influence, which every wise and good woman exerts over the tone of morals and
manners, on the friends who may court her society.

Woman is the grace, ornament, and charm of the social circle; and when she
carries into it habits that frown upon vice, that check folly and discountenance
levity, she is a benefactress to the country. And as to the various institutions
of our age for the relief of suffering humanity, the instruction of ignorance,
and the spread of true religion—we give her all the room and liberty for these
things which are compatible with her duties to her own household. What prudent
female would ask more, or what advocate of her rights would claim more? Woman is
always in her place where charity presides—except when her time and attention
are demanded at home, for those who are more immediately her charge. But I shall
have much more to urge on this subject in a future chapter. But what shall I say
of those women who claim on their own behalf, or of their advocates who claim
for them, a participation in the labors, occupations, rights, and duties—which
have usually been considered as exclusively appertaining to men? There are those
who would expunge the line of demarcation, which nearly all nations have drawn,
between the duties and the occupations of men and those of women.

Christianity has provided a place for woman for which she is fitted, and in
which she shines; but take her out of that place, and her luster pales and sheds
a feeble and sickly ray! Or to change the metaphor, woman is a plant, which in
its own greenhouse seclusion will put forth all its brilliant colors and all its
sweet perfume; but remove it from the protection of its own floral home into the
common garden and open field, where hardier flowers will grow and thrive—its
beauty fades and its fragrance is diminished. Neither reason nor Christianity
invites woman to the professor’s chair, or conducts her to the lawyer’s bar, or
makes her welcome to the pulpit, or admits her to the place of the magistracy.
Both exclude her, not indeed by positive and specific commands, but by general
principles and spirit, alike from the violence and evil of the military, the
debates of the senate, and the pleadings of the forum. And they bid her beware
how she lays aside the delicacy of her sex, and listens to any doctrines which
claim new rights for her, and becomes the dupe of those who have put themselves
forward as her advocates only to gain notoriety, or perhaps unneeded income. The
Bible gives her her place of majesty and dignity in the domestic circle—the
heart of her husband and the heart of her family. It is the female supremacy of
that domain, where love, tenderness, refinement, thought and tender feeling
preside. "It is the privilege of making her husband happy and honored, and her
sons and daughters the ornaments of human society. It is the sphere of piety,
prudence, diligence, in the domestic station, and a holy and devout life. It is
the sphere that was occupied by Hannah, the mother of Samuel; by Elizabeth, the
mother of John; by Eunice, the mother of Timothy; and by Mary, the mother of
Jesus. It is the respect and esteem of mankind."

It is, as Dr. Spring has said, that silent, unobserved, unobtrusive influence,
by which she accomplishes more for her race, than many whose names occupy a
broad space on the page of history. A woman who fills well the sphere assigned
to her, as a wife and mother; who trains up good citizens for the state, and
good fathers and mothers of other families which are to spring from her own; and
so from generation to generation in all but endless succession, need not
complain that her sphere of action and her power of influence are too limited
for female ambition to aspire to. The mothers of the wise and the good are the
benefactresses of the human race. What would be gained to woman’s comfort,
respectability, or usefulness, or to the welfare of society, and how much would
be lost to each, by withdrawing her from her own appropriate sphere, and
introducing her to that for which she has no adaptation? Who, but a few wild
visionaries, and rash speculatists, and mistaken advocates of ’woman’s rights’,
would take her from the home of her husband, of her children, and of her own
heart—to wear out her strength, consume her time, and destroy her feminine
excellence—in committee-rooms, on platforms, in mechanics shop, or philosophical
institutions? But may not woman, in every way in her power—benefit society by
her talents and her influence? Certainly, in every legitimate way. Her sphere is
clearly assigned to her by God—and only by very special and obvious calls should
she be induced to leave it. Whatever breaks down the modest reserve, the
domestic virtues, the persuasive gentleness, of woman, is an injury done to the
community. Woman can be spared from the lecturer’s chair, the platform of
general convocation, and the scene of public business; but she cannot be spared
from the hearth of her husband, and the circle of her children! Substitutes can
be found for her in the one, but not in the other. In the bosom of domestic
privacy she fulfils with truest dignity and faithfulness the first and highest
obligations of her sex. Monod’s remarks on this subject are so beautiful,
appropriate, and just, that I shall be more than forgiven for the following
quotation.

"Is not the humble sphere which we assign to woman, precisely that for which her
whole being is pre-disposed and pre-constituted? Her finer but more fragile
conformation, the quicker pulsation of her heart, the more exquisite sensibility
of her nerves, the delicacy of her organs, and even the softness of her
features, all combine to make her what Peter so aptly designates ’the weaker
vessel,’ and render her constitutionally unfit for incessant and weighty cares,
for the duties of the state, for the vigils of the cabinet, for all that which
yields renown in the world.

"Again, are not the powers of her mind equally distinct? The question is
sometimes started whether they are equal to those of man. They are neither equal
nor unequal; they are different, being wisely adapted to another end. For the
accomplishment of the work assigned to man, woman’s faculties are inferior to
his; or rather she is not adapted to it. We speak of the general rule, and not
of exceptions. It must be conceded that, by way of exception, there are among
women some few whose intellects are adapted to the cares reserved, on principle,
to the other sex, and that peculiar situations may arise in which women of
ordinary capacities may be called upon to discharge the duties assigned to man,
man in that case being a defaulter; it must be seen, however, that these
exceptions are clearly indicated by God, or called for by the interests of
humanity. For, after all, in the mission of woman, humility is but the means,
charity the end, to which all must be subservient. And why should not God, who
has made exceptions of this nature in sacred history, do the same in ordinary
life?

"Be this as it may, we leave exceptions to God, and to the conscience of the
individual, and abstaining from all irritating, personal, or contestable
questions, will confine ourselves simply to the general rule.

"In that limited sphere, however, of which we are speaking, limited in extent,
but boundless in influence, within which, supported by Scripture, we exhort
woman to confine her actions, she is endowed with faculties superior to those of
man, or rather, she alone is adapted to it. Here she has her requital; here she
proves herself mistress of the field; and employs those secret resources (which
might be termed admirable, if they did not inspire a more tender sentiment both
towards her and towards God, who has so richly endowed her)—her practical
survey, equally sure and rapid; her quick and accurate perception; her wonderful
power of penetrating the heart, in a way unknown and impracticable to man; her
never-failing presence of mind and personal attention on all occasions; her
constant though imperceptible vigilance; her numerous and fertile resources in
the management of her domestic affairs; her ever ready access and willing
audience to all who need her; her freedom of thought and action in the midst of
the most agonizing sufferings and accumulated embarrassments; her elasticity
(may I say her perseverance?) despite of feebleness—her exquisitely tender
feelings; her tact so practiced, were it not instinctive; her extreme perfection
in little things; her dexterous industry in the work of her hands; her
incomparable skill in nursing the sick—in cheering a broken spirit—in
re-awakening a sleeping conscience—in re-opening a heart that has long been
closed—in fine, innumerable are the things which she accomplishes, and which man
neither can discern nor effect, without the aid of her eye and hand." Milton has
finely expressed the difference of the original pair: "For contemplation he, and
valor formed; For softness she, and sweet attractive grace." and this
difference, by limiting their respective capacities, prescribes their separate
duties and spheres of action.

Now look at woman’s NATURAL ADAPTATION for her sphere. If the view here given of
woman’s mission be correct, we can in a moment perceive what is required to
enable her to fulfill it. There must be, what indeed there generally is
pervading the sex—a consciousness of subordination, without any sense of
degradation—or any wish that it was otherwise. Woman scarcely needs to be
taught, that in the domestic economy, she is second, and not first, that "the
man is the head of the woman." This is a law of nature written on the heart, and
coincides exactly with the law of God written on the page of revelation. It is,
first of all, an instinct, and then confirmed by reason. Without this law deeply
engraved and constantly felt, as well as known, her situation would be endured
as a slavery, and she would be constantly endeavoring to throw off the yoke. Her
condition would be wretched, and she would make all wretched around her. With
such a sense of oppression, or even of hardship, pressing upon the mind—no duty
could be well performed, and the family would be a scene of domestic warfare.
But she generally knows her place, and feels it her happiness as well as her
duty to keep it. It is not necessity, but calm choice, that produces a willing
subjection. She is contented it should be so, for God has implanted the
disposition in her nature.

Then her GENTLENESS is another part of her qualification for her duty. She
should have, must have, really has, influence, power of impulsion, if not
compulsion. Were she utterly powerless, she could do nothing. Her influence,
however, is a kind of passive power—it is the power that draws, rather than
drives—and commands by obeying. Her gentleness makes her strong! How winning are
her smiles, how melting her tears, how insinuating her words! Woman loses her
power when she parts from her gentleness. It is this very yieldingness, like the
bulrush lifting its head after the rush of water, to which it has bowed, that
gives her a power to rise superior to the force of circumstances, which, if
resistance were offered, would break all before them. She vanquishes by
submission. How necessary is gentleness to the fulfillment of her mission, in
handling the young and tender spirits of her children, and training the first
delicate shoots of their infantile dispositions; and for directing the feelings
of that one heart on which she depends for her happiness. There are many
varieties of disposition in women, such as being sensitive, petulant, irritable,
jealous, quick to feel and to resent. But notwithstanding all this, and under
all this, there is a gentleness of disposition which indicates this vocation as
destined to influence and constrain by love.

TENDERNESS is another of her characteristics. Gentleness relates more to
manner—tenderness relates more to disposition. Gentleness relates to habitual
conduct, towards all people and all cases—tenderness relates more to the
occasional exercise of sympathy with distress. Tenderness is so characteristic
of the female heart, that an unfeeling woman is considered a libel upon her sex.
If compassion were driven out from every other habitation, it would find there,
its last retreat. Her heart is so made of tenderness, that she is ever in danger
of being imposed upon by craft and falsehood. How suitable such a disposition
for one who is to be the chief comforter of the domestic commonwealth—who is to
mollify the wounds of her husband’s heart, and to heal the sorrows of her
children; whose ear is to listen to every tale of domestic woe, and whose bosom
is to be the lodging-place of all the family’s grief!

SELF-DENIAL is no less necessary for this domestic mission than anything I have
yet mentioned. How much of ease, comfort, enjoyment, must she surrender, who has
to consult her husband’s comfort and will, before her own—whose happiness is to
consist, in a great measure, in making others happy—who has first to endure all
that is connected with giving birth to her children, and then all that is
involved in nursing, watching, comforting, and training them! One of the most
striking instances in our world of endurance and self-denial, both as to the
extent and the cheerfulness with which it is borne, is the busy, tender, and
contented mother of a rising family. God has given the power, yet I sometimes
wonder how she can exercise it. And then see her FORTITUDE in this situation. In
that courage which leads man to the cannon’s mouth, to mount the breach, or to
encounter some terrific danger of any other kind, she is inferior to man; but in
the fortitude manifested by enduring bodily suffering, the ills of poverty, the
wasting influence of long-continued privations, the gloom of solitude, the
bitterness of injustice, the cruelty of neglect, the misery of oppression—is she
not in all these as superior to man, as man is to her in all that appertains to
brute force? On the subject of woman’s fortitude and power of endurance, I will
introduce, though it may be at some length, the most surprising instance of it
perhaps on record, whether in inspired or uninspired history, and it will serve
as an appropriate illustration of this part of the subject of the chapter. The
apostle John, in his narrative of the events of the crucifixion of our Lord,
says, with beautiful simplicity, and without a single comment, as if he could
not hope, and would not attempt, to add to the grandeur of the incident, "Now
there stood by the cross of Jesus, his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the
wife of Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene." That the other women should have been
there is less amazing, though even their presence at such a scene, (from which
it would seem as if all the apostles had retired except John,) was indeed an
instance of the fortitude of heroic love. But that his mother should have been
there, not far off, but beside the cross, not prostrate in a swoon, or beating
her bosom, wringing her hands, tearing her hair, and shrieking in frantic grief,
but standing, in silent, though pensive, anguish, to witness the horrors of
crucifixion, so far surpassing in torture, those of any modern method of
execution—the crucifixion of her son, and such a son; O wondrous woman! and act
surpassing wonder! To whatever length endurance may be carried by attendance at
the sick-bed of a dying friend, how few of even female heroes could witness the
execution of a husband, son, or brother. I have read of one, who when her lover
was executed for high treason went in a mourning coach to witness the dreadful
process; and when the whole was closed by the severing that head which had
leaned on her bosom, simply said, "I follow you," and sighing forth his name,
fell back in the coach, and instantly expired. Here was a power of endurance
carried to a point which nature could sustain no longer, and it sunk at length
crushed beneath the intolerable burden of its grief. But behold the scene before
us; that mother, in the dignity and majesty of profound, yet composed grief,
enduring to the end. Peter had denied his Master—the other disciples, at the
sight of the officers of justice and the soldiers, amid the deep shadows of
Gethsemane, had deserted Him, and still kept at a distance from the scene of
suffering and danger; but there, standing by the cross, were those dauntless,
holy women, sustaining with wondrous fortitude the sight of his dying agonies,
and confessing their Lord in the hour of his deepest humiliation, in the absence
of his friends, and in the presence of his foes—and there among them was his
mother. I shall never wonder at anything that female fortitude, when upheld by
Divine grace, can do, after it could stand in the person of Mary, at the foot of
the cross, when Christ her Son and her Lord was suspended upon it! Nor shall I
ever despair of the support of any woman in the hour and scene of her deepest
woe, who is willing to be sustained, after I have beheld the mother of our Lord
upheld in that unutterably awful situation.

Painters and poets have not done justice to the dignity of this most honored of
all women. There is still existing a picture of Annibale Carracci, entitled "The
three Marys," the subject of which is those holy women surveying the body of
Christ after it was taken down from the cross. As a work of art it is
inimitable, and does full justice to the painter’s skill. But it does far less
justice to the character of the mother of our Lord, than the apostle’s
description of her. In the painting, she is represented swooning over the dead
body of Jesus, whose head reclines on her lap, while the other figures are
represented in the attitude of passionate grief. How different this to the
dignified, majestic, and composed grief which stood beneath the cross. So far
must art ever fall beneath nature, still lower below the wonders of grace, and
most of all below such grace as was given to the mother of our Lord.

Let women study this pathetic and amazing scene, and learn that the deepest
love, and the noblest grief, are not that sickly sensibility, that emotional
excitability, which are too tender to bear the sight of suffering; but instead
of sinking with hysterical outcries, or retiring with averted eyes from agonies,
or swooning at the sight of tears and blood—can control the feelings and brace
the nerves, to perform in the hour and scene of woe, a part which none can
perform except herself, or at any rate none can perform so well. Let young women
set out in life practicing that discipline of their emotions, which without
diminishing anything of that softness and tenderness of manner which are the
most lovely characteristics of their sex, or robbing their hearts of those
delicate sympathies and sensibilities which constitute the glory of woman’s
nature, will preserve their judgment from being enveloped in such a mist of
emotion, and their will from being so enervated, as to make them incapable of
resolution, and render them incompetent in times of their own sorrow and trial
for anything besides weeping over the calamities which they might otherwise
remove, and to make them altogether unfit for those hardy services of mercy
which the miseries of others will sometimes require at their hands.

Arising out of this self-discipline, and as one beautiful display of it, see
woman when called to put forth her gentleness, her sympathy and her self-denial,
in the hour of affliction, and the chamber of sickness. It has been somewhere
beautifully said, that "In sickness there is no hand like woman’s hand, no heart
like woman’s heart." A man’s bosom may swell with unquestionable sorrow, and
horror may rend his mind; yet place him by the sick couch, and in the light, or
I should rather say in the shadow, of the sad lamp by which it is watched; let
him have to count over the long dull hours of night, and wait, alone and
sleepless, the grey dawn struggling into the chamber of suffering; let him be
appointed to this ministry, even for the sake of the brother of his heart, or
the father of his being, and his grosser nature, even when most perfect, will
tire, his eye will close, and his spirit grow impatient of the dreary task; and,
though his love and anxiety remain undiminished, his mind will own to itself a
creeping in of irresistible selfishness, which indeed he may be ashamed of, and
struggle to reject—but which, despite of all his efforts, will remain to
characterize his nature, and prove in one respect, at least, the weakness of
man. But see a mother, a sister, or a wife, in his place! The woman feels no
weariness, and has no thought of herself. In silence and in the depth of night,
she bears up not only passively, but so far as the term, with the necessary
qualification, may express our meaning, with delight. Her ear acquires a blind
man’s instinct, as from time to time it catches the slightest stir, or whisper,
or breath, of the now more than ever loved one, who lies under the hand of human
affliction. Her step, as she moves in obedience to an impulse or signal, would
not waken a mouse; if she speaks, her accents are a soft echo of natural
harmony, most delicious to the sick man’s ear, conveying all that sound can
convey of pity, comfort, and devotion. And thus, night after night, she tends
him like a creature sent from a higher world, when all earthly watchfulness has
failed; her eye never winking, her mind never palled, her nature, which at all
other times is weakness, now gaining a superhuman strength and magnanimity,
herself forgotten, and her sex alone predominant. But as woman’s mission is in
an especial sense one of charity, LOVE is, above all things, essential to its
right performance. Here again, I will give a long quotation from Monod’s
beautiful work.

"But in speaking of love, it is less the degree than the character which is of
importance. Love, as we have before said, is the very essence of woman’s
existence. But what love? Let her reflect, and she will find that it is
precisely that love which predisposes her for the vocation of beneficence
prescribed for her by the Scriptures. There are two kinds of love, love which
receives, and love which gives. The former rejoices in the sentiment which it
inspires, and the sacrifice it obtains; the second delights in the sentiment
which it experiences, and the sacrifice which it makes. These two kinds of love
seldom exist apart, and woman knows them both. But is it too much to say, that
in her the second predominates? and that her motto, borrowed from the
spontaneous love of her Savior, is, ’It is more blessed to give than to
receive.’

"To be loved! This, we well know, is the joy of a woman’s heart; but alas, how
often is the joy denied her! Yet let her continue to love, to consecrate herself
by love; it is the exigency of her soul, the very law of her existence—a law
which nothing can ever hinder her from obeying.

"Man also is no stranger to this feeling; he, too, must love; but his is the
love in which Paul sums up the obligations imposed upon the husband in conjugal
life, ’Husbands, love your wives,’ even as he sums up the duties of submission
on the part of the wife—’Wives, obey your husbands.’ But what we are treating of
here, is not the obligation, nor the faculty; it is the inclination to love.

"Love, it must be remembered, is less spontaneous, less unselfish among men than
among women. Less spontaneous; man is often obliged to conquer himself, in order
to love; woman need only listen to the dictates of her innate feelings. Hence,
Scripture, which frequently commands the ’husband to love,’ abstains from giving
this command to the wife, taking it for granted that nature herself would supply
the injunction.

"Moreover, the love of woman is more unselfish. Man loves woman more for his own
sake than for hers; woman, on the contrary, loves man less for her own sake than
for his. Man because he is not sufficient in himself, loves that which has been
given him of God; woman, because she feels that she is needed, loves him to whom
God has given her. If solitude weighs heavily upon man, it is because life has
no charms for him when separated from his help-mate; if woman dreads living
alone, it is because life has lost its aim, while she has none to whom she can
be ’a help-mate.’ Of her it may be said, if we may be permitted to make the
comparison, in the emphatic language of Scripture, ’We love her because she
first loved us.’"

If such, then, be woman’s mission (and who will deny or question it?) how
immensely important it is that it should be well understood, and that she should
be properly trained to perform it well. But is it really understood, and is
education so conducted as to qualify woman for her mission? It requires little
knowledge of modern society to answer these questions in the negative.

Parents, and especially mothers, you who have daughters, to you appertains the
serious, and deliberate, and prayerful consideration of this momentous and
deeply interesting subject. Look upon those girls whom Providence has committed
to your care, and say to yourselves, "I very distinctly perceive, and as
impressively feel, the importance of the female character on account of its
influence upon the well-being of society. And it is clear to me, that woman’s is
a domestic mission, which is to affect society through the medium of family
influence. As she fills up her place with wisdom and propriety, so will she
promote the well-being of the community. Nor is it society only, but the Church
of Christ, that is concerned in, and promoted by, the female character. Now, I
have daughters, who must contribute their share of influence to the public weal
or woe. How shall they be educated, so as best to fulfill their mission, should
they be called to preside over the domestic economy? It depends much upon me,
whether they fail or succeed in this their mission."

These are appropriate, weighty, and necessary reflections, peculiarly belonging
to mothers. To them, I say, In all your conduct never let these thoughts and
views be long out of your minds. Look beyond the drawing rooms of your friends,
where your daughters are to be sometimes seen. Look higher than to get them
married, even well married. Take into account their being well qualified to
fulfill their mission. Set them before you as the future heads of a domestic
establishment, and prepare them to preside over it with dignity and efficiency.

How much in modern education is calculated, if not intended, rather to prepare
our women to dazzle in the circle of fashion and the gay party, than to shine in
the retirement of home! To polish the exterior by what are called worldly
accomplishments, seems to be more the object than to give a solid substratum of
piety, intelligence, good sense, and social virtue. Never was a subject less
understood than education. To store the memory with facts, or to cultivate the
taste for music, singing, drawing, languages, and needle work, are the ultimatum
with many. The use of the intellect in the way of deep reflection, sound
judgment, accurate discrimination, is not taught as it should be; while the
direction of the will, the cultivation of the heart, and the formation of the
character, are lamentably neglected. I ask not the sacrifice of anything that
can add grace, elegance, and ornament, to the feminine character; but I do want
incorporated with this, more of what is masculine in knowledge and wisdom.

I want to see woman educated not to be man’s plaything, but his companion. I
want to see her invested with something higher and better than fashionable
baubles, elegant trifles, and alluring airs. I want her to be fitted to hold
fast her husband’s heart by the esteem he bears for her judgment; to inspire
confidence and reverence in her children, and in that home where her influence
is so potent, to train up men and women who shall add to the strength and glory
of the nation. In this, let mothers be assisted by those to whom they entrust
the education of their daughters when they pass from their hands. It is
melancholy to think of the incompetency of a large portion of those to whom the
education of women is entrusted. How little has it ever occurred to many of them
to inquire into woman’s mission; what is necessary to qualify her for it; and
how they shall aid her in obtaining this fitness! How rarely does it come within
their comprehension that it is their duty, and should be their study, to impart
not only knowledge, but wisdom; not only to train the performer, the artist, or
the linguist, but to lay the foundation for the character of the sincere
Christian, the intelligent woman, the prudent wife, the judicious mother, the
sagacious manager of the household, and the useful member of society! And if
there be no impropriety in turning aside for a few moments to address myself as
well to fathers, I would say to them, study deeply, and ponder much the
momentous importance of the domestic constitution. In the present age, how much
has been said and written respecting improvements in society; but never let it
be forgotten that all radical improvement must commence in the homes and at the
hearts of our families. The enquiries how best to cure existing evils, or to
supply existing defects, which do not begin here, will be superficial in their
nature, and unsatisfactory in their results. It is in the correct understanding
of the nature of parental obligations, and the right discharge of the duties of
man and wife towards each other and their children, that the chief restorative
remedy for the diseases of a nation must be sought, as well as the best means of
preserving its health. Institutions may be set up to aid or to supplement a
father’s efforts, or to alter the nature or widen the sphere of woman’s mission;
and an artificial state of social life may be produced, varnished and glittering
with the showy devices of human wisdom, but it will be found in the end, that
the purposes of the God of nature, the Great Author of human society, cannot be
frustrated; and that the parent must still be the educator of the child, and
home the school for the formation of character. Nor should young women
themselves be kept in ignorance of woman’s mission. Their future destiny, as
stated in the last chapter, should sometimes by a wise mother or an able
governess, be set before them; and they themselves reminded how much is
necessary on their part, to prepare themselves for their future lot. They must
be reminded that above and beyond worldly accomplishments, their character is to
be formed; which never can be done without their own aid. They must be early
impressed, not indeed in a way to inflate their vanity—but to excite their
ambition, to stimulate their energies, and to direct their aim, that they have a
mission on earth, for which it becomes them most anxiously and most diligently
to prepare themselves. My young friends, let it be your constant aim, and at the
same time your earnest prayer, that you may first of all thoroughly understand
your mission, and then diligently prepare for it, and hereafter as successfully
fulfill it. Look around and see what women commend themselves most to your
judgment as worthy of imitation. You will see some, perhaps, in whom, as Monod
says, reserve has degenerated into supineness; activity into restlessness;
vigilance into curiosity; tact into cunning; discernment into censoriousness;
lightheartedness into levity; fluency into talkativeness; taste into
fastidiousness; aptitude into presumption; influence into intrigue; authority
into domination; and tenderness into morbid susceptibility; some whose power of
loving is converted into jealousy, and their desire of usefulness into
obtrusiveness. From such turn away, as from examples in which the best qualities
are metamorphosed into the worst. And equally avoid those whose whole aim seems
to be to amuse and to be amused; whose vanity is predominant, even in mature
age—and who appear, in their taste for gaiety, company, and entertainments, to
forget that they have any mission upon earth, except to flutter in social
circles, and to dazzle its guests. On the contrary, select for your models those
who seem to be aware of woman’s destiny and mission, as a help-mate for man.

If in closing a chapter, already too long, I may suggest a few things which, in
preparing to fulfill well your future mission, it is of importance you should
attend to, I would mention the following:

Young women! Deeply ponder, that character for life is usually formed in youth.
It is the golden season of life, and to none more truly and eminently so than to
the young woman. Her leisure, her freedom from care, and her protected
situation, give her the opportunity for this, which it is her wisdom and her
duty to consider, embrace, and improve.

It is of immense consequence you should consider that whoever may help you, and
whatever appliances from outside may be brought to bear upon your mind and
heart, you must, to a considerable extent, be the constructor of your own
character. Set out in life with a deep conviction of the momentous consequence
of self-discipline. Let your mind, your heart, your conscience, be the chief
object of your solicitude.

Lay the basis of all your excellences in true religion, the religion of the
heart, the religion of penitence, faith in Christ, love to God, a holy and
heavenly mind. No character can be well-constructed, safe, complete, beautiful,
or useful, without this.

Cultivate those dispositions of mind which have especial reference to your
future mission as the help-mate for man. Improve your mind, and grow in
intelligence by a thirst for knowledge; for how can an ignorant woman be a
companion for a sensible man? Cherish a thoughtful, reflective turn of mind.
Look beneath the surface of things; beyond their present aspect to their future
consequences. Be somewhat meditative, and learn to restrain your words and
feelings, by a rigid self-control. Pay most anxious attention to your temper,
and acquire as much as possible its perfect command. More women are rendered
miserable, and render others miserable, by neglect of this, than perhaps from
any other cause whatever. Let meekness of disposition and gentleness of manner
be a constant study. These are woman’s amiabilities, which fit her for her
future situation far better than the bold, imposing, and obtrusive airs of those
who mistake the secret of woman’s influence.

Contentment and patience; self-denial and submission; humility and
subordination; prudence and discretion, are all virtues, the seeds of which
should be sown by you in early youth, that their rich ripe fruits might be
gathered in future life. Benevolence of heart, and kindness of disposition, must
be among your foremost studies, the most prominent objects of your pursuit and
most laborious endeavors; for they are the virtues which in their maturity are
to form excellence in Christian character, and constitute you the fit companion
for a husband.

Make worldly accomplishments subordinate to more substantial excellences. Let
the former be to the latter only as the burnish of the gold, or the cutting of
the diamond. And as matters of mental taste are to be less thought of, than the
state of the heart and the formation of moral character, so let especially
bodily adornments be in low estimation compared with those of the mind. To
prepare you to carry out the duties of your future mission with ease to
yourself, with satisfaction to a husband, and comfort to a household, pay
attention to the minor virtues—punctuality, love of order, and efficiency. These
are all of immense importance, the lack of them in the female head of a family,
must necessarily fill the home with confusion, and the hearts of its inhabitants
with sadness. Set out in life with a deep conviction of the importance of
habits, and a constant recollection that habits for life are formed in youth and
that these habits, if not acquired then, are likely never to be.

Aim at universal excellence. Do little things well. Avoid with extreme dread a
loose, slovenly, and careless way of doing anything proper to be done.

Young women, your whole future life will illustrate and confirm the truth and
propriety of this advice, either by the comfort and usefulness which will result
from your attending to it, or by the miseries which you will endure yourself and
inflict on others, if you allow it to sink into oblivion. It is in this way only
you can fulfill, with effect, that which it has been the object of this chapter
to set before you, woman’s mission in social life.


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  CHAPTER 78: 06.04.     EARLY PIETY
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EARLY PIETY "I love those who love me; and those who seek me early shall find
me." Proverbs 8:17

How fascinating is nature in the second quarter of the year. Spring, lovely,
animating spring, then sheds its reviving and gladdening smiles upon us. It is
always a season of beauty. "For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and
gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds has
come, and the voice of the turtle-dove is heard in the land." Nature stands
forth dressed in her garb of living green, decorated with the chaste colors and
perfumed with the mild fragrance of the violet, the primrose, and the lily. It
is a season of joy as well as beauty; recently recovered from the gloom of
wintry months, the earth smiles and is vocal with delight. The feathered
songsters of the grove blend their notes with the lowing of the herds and the
bleating of the flocks; and the harmony is completed by the joyful sounds of the
husbandman, and the gentle music of the breeze. But it is also a season of
activity as well as of loveliness and delight, the torpor produced by short days
and cold nights is succeeded by universal motion. The farmer is busy in his
fields, the florist in his greenhouse, and the horticulturist in his garden—for
full well is it known and felt, that a seedless spring must be followed by a
fruitless autumn. Hope too adds radiance and delight to youthful spring scenes.
The blade springing from the well-cultivated soil, and the blossom on the
well-pruned tree, give the promise and prospect of the future crop. And what is
youth but the spring-time period of existence; it is the season of beauty and of
joy, it should be the season of activity and of hope. It is then that the beauty
of the human form is in all its untainted freshness, and the spirits of our
physical nature are in all their unchecked vigor. And it is then that all the
energies of the soul should be put forth in the way of self-improvement, to
awaken the hopes—not only of their possessor, but of every observer. Do, my
young friends, thus look abroad upon the field of nature; not only to poetize,
but to moralize; not only to admire, but to imitate; not only to feel the throb
of pleasure and the thrill of delight, but to learn lessons of wisdom, and
collect motives for self-improvement.

You are, indeed you are, passing through the spring of your life; and as in
nature, so in your existence, there can be but one spring; and in each case, it
is the spring that will give the character to the seasons that follow it. It is
then the seeds of intelligence, of prudence, of virtue, of piety, must be sown,
or there will be no produce in the after periods of your history. A seedless
spring must here also be followed by a fruitless autumn, and a destitute,
dreary, and cheerless winter, and for this reason this chapter is devoted to the
enforcement of early piety. Your first concern, and deep indeed should that
concern be, is, of course, to understand the nature of real religion. This is of
momentous importance. No language can exaggerate it. There can be no hyperbole
here. Upon a right understanding of this subject is suspended your happiness for
eternity. Ponder that word eternity, and think of the millions of millions of
ages, passing comprehension, it includes; all to be filled with torment or
bliss, according as you understand and practice, or mistake the nature and
neglect the claims of true religion. Should not this awaken solicitude of the
deepest kind? What should increase the concern of your mind to intense
solicitude, and almost to distress, is, that both our Lord and his apostles, by
what they have said, lead us to believe that mistakes on this subject are very
common and very destructive, as you may learn by consulting the following
passages of Holy Scripture—Matthew 7:13-28; 1 Corinthians 13:1-13; 2 Corinthians
13:5-7; Galatians 4:11-18; Galatians 6:3-5. To guard against mistakes, go to the
right source of information; consult the only infallible oracle, the Word of
God. You have the Bible in your hand; search that, search it yourselves for
yourselves. Do not be satisfied with merely consulting men’s works, but consult
God’s own Word. All churches, whatever they may boast, may err, have erred, and
have no authority or ability to settle this matter for you. Creeds and
catechisms, prayer-books and missals, formularies and confessions—none of them
are pure truth—this is true only of the Bible. The Bible, the Bible alone, is
the religion of Christians. Not that I would have you reject the help of other
things—but only their authority. An humble, docile mind will be thankful for
human aid in the great business of religion. There is a medium between despising
assistance and so depending upon it as to cast off all self-inquiry. The pert
and flippant self-sufficiency which would lead a young woman to neglect, or even
to despise, the judgment of those whose calling it is to teach the Word of God,
and who have studied it more closely than it is possible she can have done, is
no proof of that humility which is one of the brightest ornaments of her sex. I
do not, therefore, teach young women to think lightly of the assistance rendered
by ministers and books, in the momentous concerns of religion; but simply remind
them of their duty to search for themselves the Scriptures, by whose authority
all books and all ministers are to be tried.

Before I dwell on this source of information, as to the nature of religion, I
may just remark that there are one or two things which must of necessity
characterize religion. Since it has, first of all and chiefly, to do with God,
and since God can and does regard, search, and judge the heart, its true seat
must be the heart. It is not a mere outward thing, a round of ceremonies, or a
course of unintelligent action. The soul must be religious; the whole inner
self, the intellect, the will, the affections, the conscience, must be under the
influence of piety. Mark this—there must be thought, choice, affection, and
conscientiousness.

Again; whatever be true religion, it must primarily relate to God, and must of
necessity be a right state of mind and heart towards him. It must also be to its
possessor a very serious, solemn, important matter; it supposes great concern
for it as an affair of salvation, eternity, heaven. It must produce a character
very different from that of the person who is not living under its influence. It
is too great a matter to leave no mark, to produce no impression, to form no
peculiarity. So that we may be sure where it lives properly in the heart, it
will develop itself visibly in the outward character. With these ideas, which
are at once obvious, instructive, and impressive, let us open the New Testament
and see what descriptions of religion we find there; and I beg your very closest
attention to them, as in the presence of God, and the prospect of eternity. The
apostle Paul, in setting forth the subject and substance of his ministry,
describes it thus, "Testifying both to the Jews, and also to the Greeks,
repentance towards God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ." This then is true
religion, repentance and faith. If we turn to the gospel by John, we read thus,
"But as many as received him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God,
even to those who believe on his name—who were born, not of blood, nor of the
will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." This is also repeated,
"Jesus answered, Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a man be born of water
and of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God." This is religion, a
new spiritual birth; or in other words an entire spiritual renovation of our
fallen and corrupt nature. Then again we may quote the apostle’s words in that
beautiful chapter on charity, "And now abides faith, hope, love, these three;
but the greatest of these is love." These also constitute religion, faith, hope,
and love. Similar to this is his language in his epistle to the Galatians, "For
in Jesus Christ neither circumcision avails anything, nor uncircumcision; but
faith which works by love." This is an immensely important passage, as showing
that no outward ceremonial observance or church relationship constitute
religion; but a true simple faith in Christ for salvation; producing love to
God, to man, to holiness. This accords with what our Lord said, "You shall love
the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your
mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it,
You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the
law and the prophets." Then again, the apostle said, "For the grace of God that
brings salvation, has appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness
and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously and godly, in this
present world; looking for that blessed hope, and the glorious appearing of the
great God and our Savior Jesus Christ; who gave himself for us, that he might
redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous
of good works."

Observe then from these passages what is religion, and its usual order. True
conviction of sin; deep solicitude about pardon and salvation; confession of
sin, without defense, excuse, or palliation; genuine repentance;
self-renunciation; faith in Christ, or a simple reliance on him for salvation;
the new birth, or an entire change of our corrupt nature; love to God, leading
to obedience of his commands, and a holy life; a serious observance of all the
ordinances of religion, including baptism and the Lord’s supper. Are these
things so? Is this the description of religion given us in the New Testament?
Who will pretend to deny it? Search for yourselves! You will see at once how
this answers to the general description of it previously given, as a thing of
the heart, a right state of mind towards God, a matter of deep concern to the
mind that possesses it, and making an obvious distinction between her who has it
and her who has it not.

You are in danger, my young friends, from the female temperament, from your
sensibility, susceptibility and imaginativeness, of having your minds led astray
on the subject of religion, and of considering it rather as a matter of feeling
than of principle, as belonging rather to the emotions than to the judgment and
the will. You are liable to be seduced from the truth by appeals to the senses
and the imagination, as the spurious religion of the present day abounds with
them. But I again say, search the New Testament and judge for yourselves, and
say what do you find there about tasteful architecture, gorgeous ceremonies,
splendid dresses, sacerdotal power, sacred days, either of fasting or festivity,
church authority, or even the prevalence of devotional observances over moral
duties. What you find everywhere is faith, love, peace, hope, holiness—a
religion of which devotion is indeed an element, but only one out of many; being
ever associated with self-government, conscientiousness, social excellence, and
charity. Nor is the religion of the New Testament merely that state of mind
which is moved by a pathetic sermon, which melts at the Lord’s supper, or is
excited by the appeals of a missionary meeting. Religion has to do, I know, with
our whole nature, and therefore with its emotional part; but then, the degree of
sensibility so much depends upon physical constitution, that a sense of
excitement during religious ordinances is far less to be depended upon as a test
of personal godliness, than rigid self-government, resolute will in the way of
righteousness, and tender conscientiousness, exercised in obedience to the
Divine authority, and under a constraining sense of the love of Christ. None are
more in danger, therefore, of self-delusion on this subject, than yourselves!

I may now lay before you the obligations you are under to possess, and ever to
cultivate and act under the influence of, such a religion as this. I say
obligations. This word is stern and hard, but not too much so. The subject is
pressed upon your judgment, heart, will, and conscience, by all the weight and
power of a Divine authority. Religion is not one of those matters which are
submitted to your option, for which if you have a taste, well—and if not, still
well. Nor are you left to form your own religion, and to select for yourself the
form in which you will please God and find your way to heaven. This is the
dangerous delusion of many in the present day. It is all well enough, they
think, to be religious after some fashion; but each must adopt his own way of
serving God. Upon this principle of resolving it all into taste, the person of
no religion if his taste be that way, is on nearly the same footing as he whose
religion is simply according to his own liking. The truth must be told, and told
plainly too; that there is but one religion, and that is the religion of the
Bible. To be pious at all, we must be pious in God’s way. It would be a strange
thing if, when a master had given strict and explicit written orders to a
servant how he should be served, the servant should choose his own way of
obedience, and set aside the directions he had received. In all honesty,
therefore, I must tell you at once, as harsh as the declaration may seem, that
without the religion of the Bible, you will perish everlastingly! There is no
way to heaven but by the religion of the Bible. "He who believes on the Son has
everlasting life—and he who believes not the Son shall not see life—but the
wrath of God abides on him." These are dreadful words, they roll like thunder,
and flash like lightning, not from Sinai, but from Calvary, and they should be
pondered by all who hear or read them. The obligations to a life of religion
arise out of the relations in which you stand to God. He is your Creator,
Preserver, and Benefactor—and you are his creatures, his dependents, and his
beneficiaries. You feel, my young friends, your obligations to your parents,
arising out of your relation to them. As a child, you feel bound to love, and
serve, and please them. What, and not feel your relation to God, which is a
thousand times more close than that of your connection with them? Yes, you
sustain an individual relationship to God. Do you consider this? Have you
considered it? Have you ever yet, in devout seriousness, said, "What, and where,
is God my maker? What do I owe him, and how should I conduct myself towards
him?" Is God the only relation you should leave out of consideration and forget?
Did you ever yet in all your life devoutly ponder this relationship to God, and
the claims which it brings? Why, if he had never commanded you to love and serve
him, you ought to do so, on account of this relationship. But he has commanded
it. Your Bible is his demand upon you. It is God’s voice, enjoining you to be
truly, and constantly, and consistently religious. It is his formal, explicit,
frequently and solemnly repeated claim. Its injunctions command, its invitations
allure, its promises encourage, its threatenings warn, its judgments alarm you,
to be truly pious. It is given to teach you what religion is, how it is to be
practiced, and how it will be rewarded. And then this is all addressed to you,
while you are young. Religion is not merely the concern of the middle-aged and
the old, but of the young; not of the other sex only, but of yours. Indeed it
has ever flourished more among people of your sex and age than among any other
class. To imagine it is only the business of old age and a death-bed, is an
insult both to it and God. Ought he not to have the first and the best of our
days? Should he be put off with the dregs of life? Will you dare entertain such
an idea as offering those dying remains of existence, that are of no service for
anything else, the refuse of sin, Satan, and the world? Does not your fear
tremble at such a thought, and your generosity scorn it, and your sense of
gratitude recoil from it?

Seriously attend to the following motives by which early piety may be enforced
upon you. Alas, that you should need them! Think of its being told to the angels
in heaven, that mortals upon earth need to be urged by inducements to love,
serve, and glorify that God, whose service is felt to be their bliss, their
honor, and their reward. However, you do need these inducements, and they are at
hand.

There are motives which apply to you in common with the other sex. Such, for
instance, as the nature of religion itself. What for dignity, for happiness, for
honor, can be compared with it? What constituted the glory of unfallen woman in
Paradise? Religion. It was her piety towards God that invested Eve, before she
had spoiled the beauty of her soul, with her brightest charms. Conceive of her,
bending in lowly reverence, in ardent affection, and with inexpressible
gratitude, before the throne of God; passing with holy dread and averted eye the
tree of knowledge, to feed upon the fruit which grew upon the tree of life, and
to hold communion with her husband in that sacramental type and pledge of
immortality. Not a thought, feeling, or volition, was then in opposition to God.
She heard his voice in the garden, and hastened to meet him. Now religion is
intended to bring you back as near to that state as our fallen nature in this
sinful world will admit of. Yes, religion was the repose of her happy and holy
spirit, of which the fall deprived her; and which it is the design of the whole
scheme of redemption to restore to her daughters as well as to her sons. True,
your religion must have some ingredients which hers before her lapse had not—but
in so far as it consists in the service of God, it is the same in substance.

Look up into heaven, and what constitutes the felicity and glory of the blessed
inhabitants of that happy world? Is not religion the beauty of every spirit made
perfect, the ephod in which every seraph ministers before the throne of the
Eternal? But to judge of the real dignity, honor, and felicity, of true
religion, hear what our Divine Lord said on one occasion, "As Jesus was saying
these things, a woman in the crowd called out—Blessed is the mother who gave you
birth and nursed you." And who does not admit the justice of addressing this
congratulation to that distinguished woman, to whom was granted the honor of
being the mother of the Savior of the world? What woman on earth would not have
esteemed such an honor infinitely higher than to have been the queen of the
whole earth? And yet what was the reply of Christ? "But even more blessed are
all who hear the word of God and put it into practice." Yes, she is to be
congratulated—but still higher is the honor of being a child of God by true
piety, than the honor of being the mother of Christ without it."

Beautiful is the language of Quesnel on this passage, "The Holy Virgin is not
blessed in having borne Christ, on any other account; but only because he, being
much more holy than the holiest of saints, made her worthy to be his mother, by
sanctifying her. Christ does not blame the woman for praising his mother, but he
completes it by intimating that her blessedness proceeded from her having borne
the Son of God in her heart, even before she bare him in her womb." In other
words he declares her honor as a woman would have been of no account to her, but
for her religion as a saint. (Could any language of our Lord have tended more
effectually to rebuke the preposterous and blasphemous honors which are paid to
the Virgin by the Papists? It would seem that, foreseeing all that the church of
Rome has accumulated of error and impiety in this way, he had determined in the
most effectual and impressive manner to furnish the antidote and refutation in
this impressive language. Let any one study the spirit of this reply of Christ
to the congratulation of the woman that blessed his mother, and say if it is not
the most convincing answer which could be given to the dreadful system of
Mariolatry, which prevails so extensively in that corrupt and apostate church.)
Is it possible, my young female friends, to find a richer, loftier commendation
of the dignity and felicity of true religion than this, which places those who
possess it above the honor of giving birth to the humanity of Christ? I ask you
most intently to ponder this passage of the gospel history. In common with the
other sex, you also are liable to the stroke of death, and therefore youth may
be the only time given you to attend to this high concern; so that if neglected
then, it may be neglected forever. In the touching and poetical language of Job
it is said, "Man comes forth like a flower and is cut down." How impressive this
figure of the frailty of humanity. Man is not like the cedar of Lebanon, or the
oak of the forest, which defies and outlives the storms of centuries; no, nor
the shrub of the mountain side; or even the flower, watched by the gardener’s
care and protected by the green-house from the frost and hail, the storm and
rain—but the flower exposed to the force of the elements, and the vicissitudes
of the weather, soon and easily destroyed by adverse influences. Such is
humanity—tender, frail, and fragile.

How often have we seen some lovely flower in our garden, prepared by nature to
live in full-blown beauty through a long summer, suddenly pierced by the arrows
of frost, just when its bud was bursting and opening its beauties to the sun and
the eyes of the beholder, and then drooping its head upon its stalk, and
gradually withering away. So also have we often seen an amiable girl, apparently
destined to live long upon earth, smitten by consumption, at a time when all her
powers of body and of mind were developing into womanhood, and then wasting away
by incurable disease, until death closed the scene and left us weeping over the
lovely flower cut down in spring. What multitudes of such faded, withering
flowers do we see every year. Could we from some high place in the air look down
into all the chambers of sickness only of one town, how many estimable young
women would we see sinking under disease, amid the tears of parents sorrowfully
beholding their pride and hope thus incurably diseased; and others amid the
anguish of heart-stricken lovers thus witnessing the flower cut down just when
they expected to transplant it into their own garden of domestic delights. Oh
painful reverse, to sigh out the last adieu at such a time and under such
circumstances; to put on the shroud instead of the bridal attire; to go down to
the tomb instead of taking possession of the elegantly furnished house; and be
gathered to the "congregation of the dead," instead of going into the gay circle
of the living! Does this never happen? Alas, you mourners, your sighs and tears
answer in the affirmative. Yes, and you, my young friends, may add to the
number. Would you die without saving religion? No! you answer, not for a
thousand worlds. Then why live another hour without it? To have it in a dying
hour, you must seek it in living ones. Few find it on the bed of death. With
religion shedding its luster on the tomb, and pouring its consolations into your
bosom; with the attractions of heaven drawing up your soul to its glories; with
a hope full of immortality surveying the mansions of the just men made perfect;
you will be able to turn away from earth when it is holding out its brightest
scenes to your view, and scarcely cast one longing lingering look behind. But
should you live, as most likely you will, still if you neglect true religion in
youth—you will most likely neglect it forever. There is nothing more likely to
perpetuate itself than neglect, in every case and in reference to everything.
Procrastination grows, like other things, with indulgence. Nothing in all the
world requires prompt decision so much as true religion. Nothing is more likely
to be postponed forever, if postponed from the present moment. I have no doubt
you intend to be pious. You would shudder at the idea of deliberately purposing
and determining to abandon religion forever. It would appear to you the height
of impiety, a species of blasphemy, to say, "I will never become a Christian."
Yes, and it is thus that Satan would cheat you out of your salvation. He will
allow you to be as solemn, and serious, and even sincere, in your intentions, as
you please, to be religious at some future time—if he can persuade you to put it
off from the present moment "to a more convenient season." But you must be told
that not one in a thousand of those who go through the period of youth amid
evangelical advantages of religion, and with a deliberate postponement of the
matter to futurity, ever fulfill their purposes. Those who come to womanhood,
and collect around them the cares and anxieties of a wife, a mother, and a
manager of the household, without religion, rarely ever find leisure or
inclination for it in such circumstances. But I now go on to dwell on some
motives and persuasives to early piety, which appertain with greater force to
your sex than to the other; or at any rate to a large proportion of it. Consider
then your natural temperament. There can be no doubt that though religion is not
exclusively, nor principally—it is partially, a matter of emotion. In many
affairs of human conduct we are moved to action partly by our feelings, even
before the decisions of the judgment are made and deliberated upon. The head
should always move and lead the heart, but oftentimes the heart rouses and moves
the head. The feelings are excited even when the judgment is only half-awake and
informed. This is no doubt the case in religion. Your quick sensibility, your
soft nature, your tender heart, your great imaginativeness, render you naturally
susceptible of pious impressions. Religion contains not only much that is stern,
bold, sublime—much that is truly logical, and truly philosophical, which
addresses itself to the judgment; but much that is pathetic, tender, and
touching—which appeals to the heart.

You are easily moved to fear, and therefore the terrors of the Divine law have
greater power to cause you to tremble. You are readily excited to pity, sorrow,
and love; and therefore the gospel, that wondrous mixture of suffering, grief,
and mercy, powerfully stirs up your tender emotions and calls into exercise your
gentle affections. I do not forget that you partake of the common corruption of
our nature, and that you also need the grace of the Holy Spirit for your
conversion—but still I contend, that so far as natural advantages are to be
taken into consideration, the very temperament of your minds is in your favor.
Hence it is that so many more women are truly pious than men. It is not that the
gospel is unworthy the more robust nature of the other sex; but that it falls in
more with the softer nature of yours. In most things the God of grace seems to
follow the order established by the God of nature.

I may mention in reference to many of you, your sheltered condition at home, and
the protection you there enjoy. Your brothers must go out into the world,
encounter its temptations, and be exposed to its moral dangers. While they are
in peril of making shipwreck of faith and a good conscience on the troubled
ocean of human life; you are in the quiet haven of a pleasant domicile. Or, to
change the metaphor, you are nestling under cover of a mother’s wing; while they
are left in all their inexperience and moral feebleness to the attacks of birds
of prey.

Besides this, at home you enjoy, if the children of godly parents, many
religious advantages. There, you are called to join in offering the morning and
evening sacrifice at the altar of family devotion. There, you regularly
accompany your parents to the house of God; and enjoy the ordinances of public
worship. There you are guarded from the withering influence of evil
companionship. How favorable is all this to the cultivation of piety! Should
your heart be inclined to serve the Lord, you have not to encounter the jeers of
scoffing associates, the poisoned arrows of infidel wit, or the sharp spear of
profane humour. No heroic or martyr-like moral courage is requisite to enable
you to persevere in a religious course, as is sometimes the case with your
brothers; on the contrary, every advantage will be afforded you—every stone will
be gathered out of your path. Nor is this all, for independently of parental
vigilance and home-protection, your sex is less exposed to the assaults of those
temptations which, assailing young men, and conquering the virtue of so many,
harden their hearts against the impressions of religion. A keen sense of female
decorum has thrown a covering over you. By common consent, an immoral woman is a
more immoral character than a profligate man, and hence is a more rare one. The
prodigal son is, alas, no unfrequent character—but the profligate daughter does
not often occur. A tenth part of the criminality which some men commit and yet
retain their place in society, would banish a woman from it forever. It is the
high sense of female honor, the moral delicacy, the fastidious modesty, which
are at once your glory and your protection. But then this very circumstance
increases your responsibility. You are not hardened by crime into insensibility;
nor confirmed in guilty habits by repeated acts of sin; nor petrified by
infidelity into a stone-like indifference to religious impressions. Your moral
susceptibilities are not so blunted by long continued wicked courses as to leave
no avenue to your hearts open for the voice of warning. And then consider one
thing more, your leisure time. I now speak of women living at home with their
parents, and not necessitated to earn their own support by their own labor. Your
time, except that which is put under requisition by a judicious mother, for her
assistance in household matters, is all your own. Your brothers, whether at home
or abroad, must of necessity be much engaged in business. Their time is scarcely
at their own command—and too often this is felt, or at any rate pleaded, as an
excuse for neglecting the claims of religion and the salvation of the soul. You
have no such excuse. Your time is so much at command that you can walk, or read,
or work, or visit at will. You have so much leisure, that to get rid of time,
which sometimes hangs heavy on your hand, some of you I fear squander hours
every day upon useless labors of pleasure and taste. You, of all people in our
world, can with the least truth say you have no time to think of eternity, no
opportunity to seek for salvation. Is it possible you should overlook your
present happy freedom from solicitude of almost every kind?

You will perhaps at once think of the apostle’s words—"There is a difference
between a wife and a virgin—the unmarried woman cares for the things of the
Lord, that she may be holy both in body and in spirit—but she that is married
cares for the things of the world, how she may please her husband." How much of
instruction, warning, and advice, is there in these few words. The apostle did
not intend to say that all unmarried women actually do, alas, we know that too
many of them do not, care to please the Lord—but his meaning is that in the
absence of all the concerns of a wife, a mother, and the manager of a house,
they have most opportunity to attend to the things that belong to the soul.

Ah, young women, you can perhaps form some idea of what awaits you by seeing
what has come upon the head, the heart, and the hands of your mother. With the
most judicious domestic arrangements and a mind happily freed from excessive
care and troublous thoughts, how incessant are her cares, how exhausting of
time, strength, and spirits—are her duties! She has no resting hours, no holiday
seasons, no leisure time—but care, incessant care, is often her lot. Is this the
time, and are these the circumstances to which you would postpone the
consideration of the high concern of religion? Is it amid such distractions of
thought, and such perturbation of feeling, and such occupancy of time, you would
begin the momentous pursuit of salvation, and the sacred duties of religion? Why
the real, yes the established and eminent Christian woman, finds it as much as
she can do to keep alive her piety amid so many perplexities and demands. And
will you begin it then?

These remarks apply to all, even to those who have servants at command, but
especially to those who have no such help. Females of the laboring class, how
with a mother’s duties will you be able to commence a religious life, with your
unshared and unalleviated anxieties? Oh, let me say with an emphasis borrowed
from what I have witnessed myself, "Remember your Creator in the days of your
youth." Halcyon season, did you but know it! Improve it while it lasts!

Dwell, my female friends, upon the rich advantages placed by the order of
Providence within your reach. Their practical value and tendency are evident in
their results. How else shall we account for it, that so much larger a number of
the disciples of Christ is found among your sex than among the other? In
addition to the circumstances mentioned above to account for the prevalence of
piety among your sex, I might remark that it would seem as if God had intended
it for the greater humiliation of Satan, that as he triumphed over man by woman,
so God would triumph over him by woman; that as she was the instrument of his
infernal success in the fall, she should be the instrument of his humiliation in
redemption; that she who was the first to come under his yoke should be the most
eager to throw it off, and thus his trophy be snatched from his hand, and his
boast be rendered empty, by the power of Him who came to bruise the serpent’s
head, and to destroy the works of the devil. But there is another mark of the
wisdom of God in this arrangement, which is, that as religion is so momentous to
the interests of society and the welfare of immortal souls, that sex should be
most inclined to it to, which is consigned the first formation of the human
character.

I will now set before you the BENEFITS which will accrue to you from early
piety. Are the blessings of religion itself nothing? Recollect, piety is not
merely the performance of duties—but also the enjoyment of benefits. This is too
much forgotten, and the whole business of a holy life is regarded by many in
something of the light of penance; or at any rate of a service somewhat rigid
and severe. If it were so, it would still be our wisdom to attend to it, since
it is the only thing that can prepare us for heaven and eternity. That it is
service, is very true; but it is also a state of privilege. It is the service,
not of a slave, but of a child; and with the duties of a child, it brings also
the privileges of a child. Dwell upon that one thought, a child of God! Can you
conceive of anything higher, greater, nobler? Does an angel stand in any higher
relation to God? To be able to say in the fullest, richest sense of the
language, "Our Father who is in heaven," to be an object of the love, care,
interest, of the one Infinite Being—to be savingly interested in all the
privileges of the divine, redeemed, and heavenly family! O, my young friends, is
this nothing? Is it not everything? Many of you are orphans, and is it not
blissful to say, "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will
take me up?" Is it not a blessed thing to have Him for the guide of your youth?
Hear what God says, "Therefore, come out from among them, and I will be a father
to you, and you shall be my sons and my daughters, says the Lord Almighty." O,
hear his voice, accept his invitation, and come into his family. Hence it is we
propose religion to you, not simply in the shape of duty—but of bliss! Yes!
Saving religion is another name for happiness—and can you be happy too soon? You
want to be happy. You are made for happiness, and are capable of it; and where
will you find it? Pleasure says, "It is not in me;" and knowledge says, "It is
not in me." Rank, fashion, and wealth affirm, "We have heard the fame thereof
with our ears." But true religion says, "Ho, every one who thirsts, come to the
fountain and take of the water of life freely!"

Universal experience attests that pure and full satisfaction is not to be found
for the soul of man in any of the possessions of this world; and if they were
satisfying, they are all uncertain—mere unsubstantial shadows, which flit before
us, and are lost. You have perhaps formed totally wrong conceptions of religion.
"Happiness," you say, "in religion! We can conceive of it as duty, somewhat
severe, though incumbent duty; but to speak of religion yielding pleasure, is
like supposing the entrance of a violent lunatic would increase the delights of
a ball-room!" Yes, I know it is in the imagination, of some of you at least, a
spectral form, muffled, sullen, and gloomy; frightening the young by its
dreadful look, petrifying them by its icy touch, and casting over them its
gloomy shadow. But you mistake it! It is on the contrary—a seraph from the
presence of God, lighting on our orb, clad in robes of celestial beauty, radiant
with beams of glory, shedding smiles of joy on this dark scene, and echoing the
angels’ song, "Glory to God in the highest, on earth peace and good-will to
men." True religion meets you, my female friends, just setting out in life,
offers to be your guide, protector, and comforter, through all your perilous
journey to eternity. Hear her voice as she beckons you to follow her. "If you
are in danger I will shield you; if you are desolate I will befriend you; if you
are poor I will enrich you; if you are sorrowful I will comfort you; if you are
sick I will visit you; in the dangerous walks of life I will protect you; in the
agonies of death I will sustain you—and when your spirit flees its clay
tabernacle, I will conduct you into the presence of God, where there is fullness
of joy, and place you at his right hand, where there are pleasures for
evermore." And will you refuse such a friend? Will you turn away from such
bliss? Religion—gloom and melancholy? Yes—if Eden was a gloomy place. Yes—if
heaven be a region of sighs and tears. Yes, if saints made perfect and holy
angels are clad in sackcloth, and the song of the seraphim is changed into the
groan of despair! Oh no! "Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths
are peace." Her duties are pleasant, her very sorrows are mixed with joys, to
say nothing of her privileges. To exhort you, therefore, to be pious, is only in
other words to invite you to true pleasure. A pleasure high, rational, holy,
angelical—a pleasure accompanied by no envenomed sting, no subsequent loathing,
no remorseful recollections, no bitter farewells—such a pleasure as being honey
in the mouth, which never turns to gall in the stomach. A pleasure made for the
soul and the soul for it, adapted to its nature, because suited to its
spirituality; adequate to its capacities, because the enjoyment of an infinite
good; and lasting as its duration, because itself eternal. Such a pleasure as
grows fresher, instead of becoming wearisome, by enjoyment. A pleasure which a
man may truly call his own, because seated in his heart, and carried with him
into all places and all circumstances; and therefore neither liable to accident
nor exposed to injury. It is the foretaste of heaven and the pledge of eternity.
In a word, beginning in grace, it passes into glory and immortality—and those
joys which neither eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived.

Perhaps I may suggest, without at all intending to utter a suspicion of your
regard to virtue, or a reflection upon your firm attachment to its rules, that
you may need religion in youth to protect you from the moral dangers to which
even women are exposed. An immoral woman, I have already admitted, is a much
rarer character than an immoral man; but still it sometimes occurs. What
instances could not the records of some institutions reveal? How many victims of
the tempter’s wiles could there be found, who would have been preserved from
degradation and misery, had they been found under the protecting influence of
true religion when the assault was made upon their purity or honesty! I know
that multitudes are kept strictly chaste and upright without religion; but I
know that of the numbers which have fallen, not one would have lapsed if they
had been living in the fear of God. After Eve’s fall from perfect innocence in
Paradise, no woman should feel offended by the admonition to be cautious and
vigilant—nor suppose that her circumstances, feelings, or principles, place her
so far beyond the reach of temptation that her safety is guaranteed with
absolute certainty. "Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before
a fall." To many a once high-minded woman, proud of her reputation, the taunt
has been uttered by the victims of frailty, "Have you also become weak as us?"
"Be not high-minded, then, but fear." But you need religion for your consolation
amid the sorrows of your lot. If it be truly said of man, that he "is born to
trouble as the sparks fly upwards," it may with greater emphasis be so said of
woman. As if in the way of righteous retribution—she who mixed the bitter cup of
human woe, is called to drink the deepest of its dregs. Sorrows are apportioned
to her sex in common with ours, and there is scarcely an affliction to which
humanity is incident to which she is not herself exposed. In addition, how many
has she peculiar to herself! The weaker vessel, she is liable to be oppressed by
the stronger; and to what an extent is this oppression carried on! How is she
trodden down, not only in countries where the protective influence of
Christianity is not known, but in this country also! To how much greater bodily
infirmity is her more delicately wrought and more sensitive frame subjected,
than ours! Dwell upon her dependence, and her helplessness in many cases. To me
some single friendless women are the very types of desolation.

Then think of her privations, her sufferings, cares, and labors as a mother! I
admire the patience, contentment, and submission, which enable her to say, "I am
a woman," without repining or complaining of the hardness of her lot; for
certain it is, that her groans are the loudest in creation. Do not think, my
young friends, I am scaring you into religion by filling your minds with these
gloomy forebodings. By no means; but I am anxious to prepare you by its sweet,
soothing, tranquilizing, and alleviating power, to meet a woman’s trials with a
woman’s piety.

Early piety is at once the most secure basis, and the most complete finish, of
all female excellence. Look over what is said in a previous chapter on "Woman’s
Mission," and the virtues and tenderness that qualify her to fulfill it, and
think what a support to all these is furnished by sincere piety. The surest
basis of all moral excellence will be found in it. What is so productive of
humility, of meekness and gentleness, of contentment and submission, and of
self-denial and fortitude? In what soil will these mild and yet heroic
dispositions grow and flourish so luxuriantly as in that of piety? We have
stated that woman is created to love and be loved. To love is natural to her—and
what cherishes this state of mind like religion, which, both in its doctrines
and duties, is one bright and glorious manifestation of love to the universe? To
all these varied excellences religion adds the firmness and consistency of
principle, and the power and government of conscience, and takes them out of the
region of mere taste. And what a holy and ineffable loveliness does true
religion throw over the female character? Beauty is woman’s attribute, and her
form is the most perfect type of exquisite symmetry to be found in the whole
material universe. And if woman’s form be the finest specimen of material
beauty, woman’s piety is the most attractive instance of moral beauty. Who can
look upon any well-executed pictorial representation of it without admiration?
Where does woman look so altogether lovely as when seen lifting the eye of
devotion to heaven; that eye which expresses the mingled emotions of faith,
hope, and love? The Church of Rome has known the power of this, and has
maintained its dominion in some measure over its votaries, by the power of the
painter’s art in depicting female beauty associated with female piety. In a
religious female, the beauty of heaven and earth combines—the graces of the
seraph and those of the daughters of Adam are united.

Yet, notwithstanding all this, many of you are not pious. Do consider what a
chasm in excellence remains to be filled up, what a deficiency to be supplied,
while religion is lacking in the female character. There are few men, however
irreligious, but would shrink from impiety in a woman—it involves a coldness and
hardness of character offensive both to taste and feeling. "Even when infidelity
was more in vogue than at present, when it had almost monopolized talent, and
identified itself with enlightened sentiment, the few women who volunteered
under its banner were treated with the contempt they deserved. The female
Quixote broke her lance in vindicating the ’Rights of Woman;’ and no one
sympathized with her in her defeat. And depend upon it, whatever other female
follows Mary Wolstencroft, and essays the emancipation of her sex from the
obligations of piety, will, like her, be consigned to abhorrence by the verdict
of society. The mere suspicion of irreligion lowers a woman in general esteem.
Religion is indeed woman’s armor, and no one who wishes her happiness would
divest her of it; no one who appreciates her virtues, would weaken their best
security." ("Woman, in her Social and Domestic Character", by Mrs. Sandford.)

What is it, then, that prevents your giving to the subject of religion that
attention which its infinite and eternal importance demands and deserves? Let me
ask you with a beseeching importunity, as the apostle did the Galatians, "Who
(or what) hindered you, that you should not obey the truth?" Ah! what? Let me
speak to you of the HINDRANCES that are in the way of your obtaining life
eternal. Hindrances! Should anything but absolute impossibilities prevent you?
It is not infidelity? No. You are not infidels. You shudder at the idea. A
female infidel is a character as rare as it is odious. Nor is it that you are
absolutely against religion—but that of ’no religion’ that we have most to
complain of. Not of direct opposition to its claims, but the neglect of them for
other things. It is a guilty apathy to the most momentous subject in the
universe; a careless indifference to the most valuable interests of time and
eternity; a fatal oblivion of all that belongs to the eternal world, which we
regret; a contentment with things seen and temporal, without any concern about
things unseen and eternal, which we deplore. Your minds are preoccupied. You are
taken up with other things, and say to religion when it appeals to you, "Go your
way for this time, and when I have a convenient season I will call for you."

There is, I know, a repugnance to true, spiritual, vital, earnest piety, which
is the natural working of an unrenewed heart. You can observe the outer forms of
religion, by attending the house of God; but even this is more from custom than
from choice, a kind of weekly compromise with piety, that you may for so much
Sabbath occupation, be left to yourselves and other pursuits all the rest of the
week. Your religion is nothing more than a Sunday dress, worn for the place and
the season. But this is not saving religion, but merely a substitute and an
apology for it.

Some of you are bent upon present worldly enjoyment. The apostle has described
your taste and your pursuits where he says, "Lovers of pleasure more than lovers
of God." Ponder that description. Does it not startle you; horrify you? Lovers
of parties, of the dance and the song, of the gay scene and frivolous chat, more
than God! Just look at this thought in all its naked deformity. A ball, a
concert, a festivity, a party—loved more than God! Not to love God at all for
higher objects than these; for science, literature, fame, rank, wealth, is a
dreadful state of mind; but to neglect and despise God for scenes of frivolity,
mirth, and pleasure—is it not shocking? Did you ever yet seriously reflect thus?
"What a dreadful heart I must have, which can love pleasure, but cannot love
God!" Consider what this desire for pleasure will do for you in the hour of
sickness, in the scenes of poverty, in the season of calamity, in the agonies of
death, and in the bottomless pit? In the case of some of those who possess a
more than ordinary degree of personal beauty, the consciousness of beauty fills
the mind with self-delight, and constant thirst for the admiration and attention
of others. No really elegant woman can be ignorant of her natural
accomplishments—and too rarely is a beautiful mind the lovely tenant of a
beautiful body. What an odious spectacle is presented when mind and body are
thus exhibited in contrast. "Like a gold ring in a pig’s snout is a beautiful
woman who shows no discretion." What beauty can be compared with that of the
soul, and what beauty of the soul can be compared with holiness? This is the
beauty of angels, yes, of God himself. How foolish is it to be vain of that
which a disease may soon turn into loathsome deformity, and which, if sickness
does not destroy it at once—advancing age must obliterate, and the grave
consume. Many a woman, even in this world, has had to rue the possession of a
captivating face or form, and to deplore it forever in the world to come. Beauty
has lost body and soul, character and happiness, in thousands of instances!

Vanity displays itself also in attention to personal decoration, even where
there is no pretension to beauty, and not infrequently attempts to supply the
lack of it. How many are a thousand times more concerned about jewelry than
religion, the pearl of great price; and about fine clothing, than about the robe
of righteousness and the garments of salvation. A love of fine dress is not only
a foible and a fault, but almost a sin, and in innumerable cases has led to
confirmed vice. Is it not lamentable to conceive of a rational and immortal
being spending her time and exhausting her solicitude in adorning her body, and
caring nothing about her soul—thinking only how she shall appear in the eyes of
man, and caring nothing how she shall appear in the sight of God! With this is
too often associated a levity and a frivolity of disposition which are the very
opposite to that seriousness and sobriety of mind, which a real regard to
spiritual religion requires. There is no sin in cheerfulness—nor piety in gloom.
Religion is the happiest thing in the world, for it is in fact the beginning of
heaven upon earth. Religion gives a peace that passes all understanding, and
yields a joy that is unspeakable and full of glory; so that I wish you to
understand, my young friends, I do not require you in becoming Christians to put
on the veil, cut off your hair, put aside every elegant dress, part with your
smiles, and clothe yourself like a spectre in the gloom, and sullen silence of
the convent. But saving religion is still a serious thing—a thing that deals
with God, salvation, heaven, eternity. And surely the frivolity and the levity
that can do nothing but laugh, and rattle, and court attention by studied airs,
empty talkativeness, and personal display, are utterly incompatible with that
dignified and chastened (yet by no means formal, much less gloomy), sobriety of
mind which religion requires.

Friendships hinder many from giving their attention to this momentous subject.
They are surrounded by associates who have no taste for religion—and they have
perhaps formed a still closer friendship with some who unhappily do not conceal
their distaste for this high and holy concern. From the spell of such a circle,
it is difficult indeed to break away. It has been thought and said by some, that
the influence of companionship both for good and for evil, is greater with women
than with men; on the ground that there is less of robust independence and of
self-reliance in woman than in man. If so, how much does it behoove every female
to take care what companions she selects!

How difficult it is to oppose the spirit and conduct of those with whom we
associate! Generally speaking, we must conform to them—or give up their
friendship. Even if a solicitude about religion is in some degree awakened, it
will soon be checked and extinguished in the society of those who have no
sympathy with such concerns. Shall the dearest friends you have on earth keep
you from salvation? Will you sacrifice your soul, your immortal soul, at the
shrine of friendship? Will you refuse to go to heaven because others will not
accompany you—and will you go with them to perdition rather than part company on
earth? Will you carry your friendship so far as to be willing to be friends even
in the bottomless pit?

You are perhaps prejudiced against religion by the conduct of some of its
professors. And it may be that some of your own age and sex are included in the
number. I am sorry there is any ground for this. I admit that much you see in
many of them has but little in it to recommend religion to your favor. But all
this was foretold by Christ, and must be expected because of the sinfulness of
human nature—and ought not to be allowed to prejudice your minds against piety.
If you saw a number of people under a course of medical treatment which required
them to observe a particular regimen, but which they constantly violated, and
were of course no better for the medicines they took, you would not reject the
system because it did not cure them.

Just so it is with religion. These people, though they profess to be under it,
are constantly violating its rules, and are no better than those who do not
profess it. But is this a valid reason for rejecting the system? You are to test
Christianity by its own nature, as set forth in the Bible—and not by the conduct
of its professors. If your soul should be lost, it will be no excuse before the
judgement of God, nor any comfort to yourselves in the world of despair, that
you allowed your mind to be prejudiced against religion by the misconduct of
some who professed it. And now, in conclusion of this chapter, let me, young
women, conjure you at the outset of life to consider the great end and purpose
for which, as regards yourselves, your great Creator placed you in this world.
Do not think too highly of yourselves, for you are sinners as well as others,
and need, and may obtain, the salvation that is in Jesus Christ, and along with
it, eternal glory. Do not think too basely of yourselves, for you are immortal
creatures, and may inherit everlasting life. Rise to the true dignity of your
nature by rising into the region of true religion. Do not consume your life in
pursuits, innocent it may be, but frivolous and unworthy of your powers, your
destiny, and your duty! With a clear and right understanding of your mission as
regards this world, connect as clear a perception of your mission as regards the
world to come. Behold an existence opening before you, which you may fill with
the sanctity, bliss, and honor of a Christian, as well as with all the virtues
of a woman. Withdraw your heart from vanity—and consecrate it to piety. Give the
morning of your day to God, and then whether it be long or short, whether it be
passed in wedded or in single life, whether it be bright with the sun of
prosperity, or dark with the clouds, and stormy with the winds, of adversity; if
it shall close suddenly by one of those visitations to which your sex is
peculiarly exposed; or if it shall include a long and gloomy evening, it shall
usher in for your happy spirit, delivered from the burden of the flesh—that
cloudless and eternal morning to which there shall be no night. Then shall it be
found that the chief end of woman, as well as man, was to glorify God and enjoy
him forever!


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  CHAPTER 79: 06.05.     CHRISTIAN ZEAL
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CHRISTIAN ZEAL "Those women who labored with me in the Gospel." Php 4:3 The
subject of this chapter harmonizes with the scenes which we often witness in the
metropolis of our country, I mean the missionary and other religious meetings,
which are held annually in that great center of the world’s family. The month of
May is wisely selected for the time of holding the anniversaries of these
organizations of Christian zeal. Then, when the principle of fertility, after
the dreariness of another winter, is flowing in a thousand channels, and when
all nature in this country is verdant and blossoms with the hopes of another
year, it is well for the church of Christ to exhibit those institutions which
are, in the moral world, the vernal signs of retiring frosts and approaching
summer. It is a glorious sight to behold the trooping multitudes hastening with
willing feet and joyful countenances, and beating hearts, to the place of
convocation, and blending all the joys of friendly greetings with all the
sublimer delights of Christian zeal. We feel called upon there to bless God, not
only that we live in a world which he has visited in mercy by the person and
work of his incarnate Son, but in an age and country in which so much is done
for the spread of the knowledge of this great fact to the ends of the earth. At
these meetings all is matter of delight. The crowded platforms, containing the
pastors, deacons, and members of our churches, who have connected themselves
with the Missionary Society; the presence of missionaries from the fields of
holy labor; the eloquent addresses of the speakers; the vast crowd of listening
hearers, the thunders of eloquence reverberated in other thunders of applause;
all, all, are calculated to make one feel how happy an exchange we have made in
giving up the pleasures of sin and the world for those of religion. But there is
one other sight on these occasions which is as delightful as it is common; and
that is the number of women, and especially of young women, that are always
present—thus reminding us how deep an interest they have in these proceedings,
and how large a share they bear in them. And indeed, without going to the
metropolis in the month of May, or witnessing the scenes of Exeter Hall, what
public meeting for any religious object is ever held in our own, or any other
town, of which women do not form by far the larger portion? But I do not adopt
the world’s vocabulary and talk of the beautiful and elegantly dressed women who
are there, I would rather speak of "the holy women," like one apostle, and refer
to them as another apostle does, as "those women who labor in the gospel."

Let us attend to what the passage at the head of the chapter says, "Help those
women who labored with me in the gospel." Then women may labor in the gospel,
for they did so in apostolic times, and received the commendation of the apostle
for it. If they did then, they may now; and if they may, they ought. Hard would
be woman’s lot, bitter her privation, and degraded her condition, if on account
of her sex she was excluded from all participation, beyond her own personal
religion, in the most sublime enterprise in the universe. She might well deplore
her misfortune, if while man was permitted the exercise of religious zeal, she
was denied all service at the altar of God. "Even heathenism," she would
mournfully exclaim, "honored our sex, as it was represented by the Vestals, to
whose vigilance was committed the guardianship of the sacred fire; and also by
its priestesses, to whose inspiration was entrusted the responses of the
oracles. And does the religion of Jesus exclude us?" No, it does not, and I
refer you back to the first two chapters for proof that it does not; and I call
your attention in the present one to learn how you may avail yourselves of the
honor placed within your reach, and discharge the obligations which you are
under to promote the interests of religion in this dark, disordered world. To be
useful in the cause of God! How noble, how vast, how sublime, how godlike an
idea! Dwell for a moment upon it. Did you ever weigh the import of that very
common, but very delightful word, ’usefulness’? Did you ever ponder in sober
seriousness of thought the kindred phrase, "To be useful?" Have you never had
your admiration excited by hearing it said of any one, "She is a useful woman?"
I cannot let you read another syllable until I have endeavored to fascinate you
if possible by the beauty, and to captivate you by the force, of that glorious
word, usefulness.

Look at its opposite, uselessness. How low, and dull, and mean a sound; and how
despicable the character it represents! A rational, social, and immortal being,
useless—doing no good, carrying on no benevolent activity, exerting no
beneficial influence—a worthless weed, and not a flower; a pebble, and not a
gem, a piece of dead wood floating down the stream, instead of a living fruit
tree growing on its bank! Yes, worse than all these, for the weeds, stones, and
wood may be converted to some good purpose; but to what purpose can one who does
no good be turned, except it be to serve as a warning to others? Let your young
hearts, then, beat with a desire to do good. Aspire to the honor of doing good.
Contract not, shrivel not, into a despicable selfishness. Cherish a yearning
after benevolent activity, and feel as if it were but half-living to live only
for yourselves. In this cause I want you to be even zealous. The apostle says,
"It is good to be zealously affected always in a good thing." Zeal, as you know,
means an earnest, ardent desire, giving rise to a correspondent energy of
action, to obtain some favorite object; and when directed to a right object is a
noble and elevated state of mind. It is, however, a state of mind that requires
great caution in its exercise, especially in the young, and most of all in young
women. It is like fire, which may be applied to many useful purposes when under
wise direction, but which if not kept in its proper place and under proper
restraint may cause a conflagration. Or to change the illustration, it may be
only as the healthful vital heat which keeps the body in comfort and in action,
or it may become a fever of the soul, to consume its strength and destroy its
life. Or, to venture, for the sake of emphasis, even upon a third comparison,
many a zealous mind is set on fire by the speed of its own action, and for lack
of some regulator to check its speed, and some lubricator to lessen its
friction, bursts into a flame and consumes the whole machine, and does mischief
to others as well as to itself. A warm heart requires a cool judgment to prevent
these consequences from a misguided zeal. The female mind being so susceptible,
is far more liable to incautious action than that of the other sex, and is less
disposed to reflection. In man the judgment more generally keeps the heart in
check until it is itself enlightened and convinced. In woman the heart is often
engaged before the judgment; and hence the danger of female zeal being sometimes
wrong in its object, excessive in its degree, and impetuous in its action.
Almost all new theories, whether relating to medicine, theology, or any other
practical matters, find favor first of all chiefly with women. Too often led
more by their feelings than by their reason, they get entangled, like their
first mother, by appeals to their passions and affections, and allow their
hearts to lead astray their judgment. The Greek philosophers classed zeal under
three heads—zeal of envy, the zeal of achievement, and the zeal of piety.
Extinguish all feelings of the first, as so many sparks thrown off from a flame
kindled by the fire of the bottomless pit. Have very little to do with the
second beyond an unenvious imitation of what is good; and let the third be put
under the guardianship of a sound judgment, and the guidance of the Holy
Scripture.

I will first of all advert to the OBJECTS of your zealous activity. You dwell in
a valley of tears, and amid the groans of creation, occasioned by poverty,
disease, misfortune, and death, and are not to be insensible to the sights and
sounds of affliction by which you are surrounded. The female heart is supposed
to be the very dwelling-place of mercy, and an unfeeling woman is a libel upon
her sex—formed by nature to weep with those who weep, and to minister to the
bodily woes of humanity, she should enter into the design of Providence, and
become a ministering angel in the chamber of sickness. You have seen those
cloaked and demure women who issue from Catholic convents on errands of mercy to
the abodes of sickness and poverty, deeming no office too menial, no service too
self-denying, which can alleviate the pains, or promote the comfort, of the
sufferer. We would not question the purity of their motives, or the tenderness
of the offices which they perform for the children of want and woe; but they
look, after all, like a device of the church which employs them, to obtrude
itself on public notice and to win converts to itself. We call upon you, without
cutting the ties of your connection with society and abjuring the characters of
wives and mothers, to be our Sisters of Mercy, and to make it your business and
your pleasure to visit the scenes of sickness and the abodes of poverty. Even in
youth, acquire the habits, the tenderness, the delicate tact, of a nurse. Loathe
that spurious sentimentality which can weep over the imaginary woes of a
novel—but turns away, either with a callous or a coward heart, from the real
sufferings which abound on every hand. But I now more particularly refer to zeal
for Biblical religion, or for matters connected with it. Religion is every one’s
business, not only as regards the possession and practice of it as a personal
concern, but also as regards its diffusion. Everyone can not only be truly
pious, but, by the blessing of God, can do something to make others so. To
spread religion in our world is not merely the work and duty of its ministers,
but of all Christians without exception, whether young or old, rich or poor,
learned or illiterate, male or female. Everyone who understands the nature,
feels the influence, and values the privileges, of the gospel of Christ, can do
something to bring others into the same happy condition. Where there is no
desire and no effort to do this, there can be no real piety. Those who have no
concern for the salvation of others have no right to conclude they are in a
state of salvation themselves. There is room, and opportunity, and obligation,
for all to work in this cause. Even children can do something here, and have
done it.

God sometimes employs the humblest instruments for accomplishing great purposes,
as I observed when remarking upon the conduct of the little Hebrew maid in
Naaman’s family. Paganism teaches us something here; for what said Jehovah to
the prophet when referring to the heathen practices which the Jews had imitated?
"Do you not see what they are doing throughout the towns of Judah and in the
streets of Jerusalem? No wonder I am so angry! Watch how the children gather
wood and the fathers build sacrificial fires. See how the women knead dough and
make cakes to offer to the Queen of Heaven. And they give drink offerings to
their other idol gods!" Jeremiah 7:17-18. What a busy scene—all minds engaged,
all hands employed, men, women, and children! Let us be instructed by this
example of misguided zeal, and show a zeal for the true God equal to that which
the apostate Jews did for false ones. Christianity can find work for women and
children as well as Paganism; and how solemn are the obligations to propagate it
which it imposes on all who profess it! As no service can be well performed by
those who are not QUALIFIED for it, I will here enumerate the chief
prerequisites for a course of female activity in the cause of religion.

Religious zeal should in every case be the offspring of personal piety. Without
this there can be no intelligent, well-sustained, or very efficient effort.
Something no doubt may be accomplished without it. God may make use of labors
which were not directed to his glory. But it is only the truly pious mind that
can understand the object of religious zeal, be actuated by right motives, and
be likely long to continue the work, or to bring down the blessing of God upon
what is done. Your own heart must be right with God or you will know little
about the way of making others so. Example must support exhortation, or the
latter will have little effect. Much of the effort of the present day is sadly
lacking in devout seriousness, spiritual earnestness, and holy solemnity. It is
a bustling, prayerless, unsanctified activity. There is, in too many, a
frivolity about it that looks as if those who are engaged in it know not, or
forget, that they are doing the work of the Lord—all is so light and trifling
that it is evident in this case zeal is only another species of amusement. The
zeal that is likely to be continuous, to honor God, to do good to our
fellow-creatures, is that which is cherished in the closet of devotion, fed by
the oil of Scripture, and fanned by the breath of prayer. There is upon the
minds of those who manifest it that awe which warns them how they touch a holy
thing.

Scriptural knowledge is essential to well-directed efforts to do good. I now
more particularly refer to a knowledge of the object to be accomplished, and of
the means of accomplishing it. A young person anxious to do spiritual good
should well understand three great principles in religion—the ruin of human
nature by sin, its redemption by Christ, and its regeneration by the Spirit—and
should consider that all efforts of zeal must be directed to the accomplishment
of the two latter. To fit her for this work, she should study well the Word of
God, read some of the many treatises on the subject of religion with which the
press teems, and make herself acquainted with some of the best tracts and books
for putting into the handy of those who become anxious about religion. An
intense and longing desire to be useful must lie at the bottom of all her
efforts. It is not a mere love of activity, a taste for social union and
occupation, a desire for power and influence over others, an ambition for
distinction, which are the impulsive causes of religious activity; but a tender
pity for the immortal souls of our fellow-creatures, and an earnest solicitude
for their salvation, coupled with an enlightened and fervent zeal for the glory
of God. It is that piety which melted the heart of David when he said, "Rivers
of waters run down my eyes because they keep not your law;" which agitated the
soul of Paul, when amid the splendors of Athenian architecture and sculpture, he
was insensible to all the magnificence that surrounded him, in consequence of
the sin with which it was associated, and felt his spirit moved within him at
seeing the city "wholly given to idolatry;" and which, indeed, is taught in the
first three petitions of our Lord’s prayer—"Hallowed be your name, your kingdom
come, your will be done on earth, as it is in heaven."

Understand, my young friends, then, what you have to do; not the work of a low
and narrow sectarianism, in proselyting people from one denomination to another,
nothing resembling the operations of female Jesuitism, nothing of zeal to
establish one denomination upon the ruins of another—no, but the nobler and
holier work of saving the souls of your fellow-creatures, especially those of
your own sex, from the dominion of sin here, and from "the wrath to come"
hereafter. Begin life with an abhorrence of bigotry, and never let your zeal
degenerate into the baseness and malignity of that earth-born spirit; let it be
a fire kindled by a coal taken by the seraphim from the altar of God—and not a
flame lighted by a spark from the bottomless pit. Be it your aim to spread that
religion which consists not in forms of government and religious ceremonies—but
in faith in Christ, love to God, and love to man. To accomplish this, let there
be a real engagement of your heart. Give up your soul to a passion for being
useful. Cherish the most expansive benevolence. Feel as if you did not
understand, or secure, or enjoy, the end of life—unless you lived to be useful.
Consider usefulness the charm of existence, the sugar that sweetens the cup of
life. Ever feel as if you heard a voice saying to you, "Do something—do it at
once—do it heartily—do good, this good, good to the soul." A habit of
self-denial is essential to the exercise of religious zeal and Christian
benevolence. Our Lord said, "If any man will come after me, let him deny
himself, and take up his cross and follow me." This is true of the way of
holiness, but it is especially so of that of benevolent activity. Christ could
do us no good without his cross—nor can we do others much good without ours. We
would not deceive you, and endeavor to lure you into the career of holy activity
by representing it as leading through a garden of Eden where all is blooming and
beautiful, ease and enjoyment. No such thing. The course of religious zeal is
often in a wilderness, over sharp stones and bare rocks, and amid thorns and
nettles. You must make sacrifices of time, ease, enjoyment, feeling, perhaps of
friendship. You must bear hardships, and encounter many disagreeable things. You
must be prepared to give up self-will, your own comfort, and claims to
pre-eminence. Can you be zealous of good works on such terms? If so, come on; if
not, go back; for the career of mercy is not for such tender feet as yours to
tread.

But, my young friends, can you allow yourselves to sink into such delicacy and
feebleness of character? Can you be content to degenerate into littleness, and
pass through life as a species of nonentity, because you cannot endure noble
self-denial? I do not appeal to your love of romance. I would not set your
imagination on fire, in order that you may offer up yourselves a burnt offering
to benevolence, in the flames of enthusiasm. I do not stimulate you to become
heroines of mercy, and to set all the comforts of life at defiance. There are
some who love the adventures of a career of active mercy. There may be romance
in everything, even in pity. I do not want this—but I do want to see young women
practicing a sober self-denial, a judicious disregard of ease and comfort—in
order to do good. Unite a masculine hardihood of endurance with a feminine
tenderness of feeling and delicacy of manner. Passive fortitude belongs to you.

Patience and endurance is another qualification for doing good. Those who would
accomplish this must not be "weary in well-doing." There are many things to make
them so, the neglect of others, opposition, disappointment, ingratitude, perhaps
censure. Those who expect to benefit their fellow-creatures with as much ease
and as speedily as some do them injury, had better not make the attempt, for
they are sure to fail. Scarcely any people in the world have more need of
patience than those who set themselves to instruct the ignorance, to relieve the
needs, to alleviate the sorrows, and to reform the vices, of their
fellow-creatures.

See how this was illustrated in the history of our Lord. Consider how his
benevolence was ever resisted by the malignity of those whom he sought to
benefit. He lavished upon them his mercy, and it was repaid by their
ingratitude. They refused his offers, rejected his invitations, misrepresented
his actions, disbelieved his words, and misconstrued his motives. Never was so
much goodness met by so much envenomed opposition! Yet behold his patience. A
thousandth part of the opposition which he met with, would have exhausted the
forbearance of an archangel; and yet "he endured the contradiction of sinners
against himself;" gave them his tears when they had refused his miracles; shed
for them his blood when they despised his tears; and bade his disciples to make
to them the first proclamation of his grace, when they had even scoffed at his
death.

Study the history of Christ, my young friends, for the purpose of seeing an
example for you to imitate in the career of mercy. Follow him who "went about
doing good," in order to teach you with what patience you should go and do
likewise. Many who are all ardor at starting, soon grow tired, because they do
not find the course easy, and reach the goal, at a bound—or are opposed in the
way. It is a despicable as well as pitiable sight, to behold a young person
entering into the work of benevolence as confident and eager as if she would
surpass all others, and then almost at the first stage, when the novelty is
over, and difficulties arise, and the expected flowers do not appear in the
path, giving all up, and turning back to indolence, ease, and uselessness. On
the contrary, it is a sight on which angels and God himself look down with
delight, to see another holding on her way in her humble career of benevolence,
amid disappointment and opposition, persevering in her attempts to do good, and
finding in the consciousness of her aims and motives, and her knowledge of the
excellence of her object, a sufficient inducement to persevere—though at present
she reaps little else but discouragement and defeat. A spirit of dependence upon
God for success, united with a high sense of the importance and necessity of
human effort, is essential to religious zeal. This gives a twofold boldness of
mind, and firmness of step; and makes us strong, not only as instruments, in
ourselves, but also in the Lord and in the power of his might. What courage is
derived in the career of benevolence from such a consideration as this—"I know I
am seeking a good object by right means, and I will go in the strength of the
Lord!" Young women, even in your humble sphere and feeble efforts to do good, a
spirit of believing prayer, (which indeed is the spirit in which everything
should be done) will bring the God of angels to your help, the Lord Almighty to
your aid! Go forth with the consciousness that you are doing right, and with a
belief that Omnipotence is by your side. It does not betoken pride nor
self-conceit, but only that proper sense of capability which every one should
cherish, to say, "I feel I am something, and can do something; I need not be a
cipher, for God has not made me one. I have a mind, and heart, and will, and
tongue, and with these I may do something for God and my fellow-creatures.
Others of my own age and sex, feeble and humble as I am, have done something,
and so may I, and by God’s help and blessing, I will." You are right; it is all
true. This is self-knowledge, and right self-esteem. Cherish these thoughts; act
upon them, and you will do something. With such qualifications you may go to the
work of religious zeal.

Permit me now to point out to you the WAYS in which your zeal may be employed
appropriately to your sex, age, and circumstances. "As we have opportunity,"
said the apostle, "let us do good." Opportunities are more precious than rubies,
and should never be lost by neglect. There are three things which, if lost, can
never be recovered—time, the soul, and an opportunity. And it is of importance
for you to ponder this. It becomes us all to remember the advice of the sage to
his disciples, "Be mindful of opportunities." Youth is your opportunity for
doing good; not indeed if you live, your only one, but it is a very precious
one. The remarks made in the last chapter on the subject of the leisure afforded
by your present situation for the cultivation of piety, apply with equal force
to the opportunities it affords for usefulness. In married life, with a family
around you, and all the cares it brings with it, you will have comparatively
little opportunity, at least for some of those activities which you can now
carry forward.

Among the ways in which female activity could be appropriately carried on, I
must begin of course with the education of children in our Sunday Schools. The
instruction of the girls is entrusted to women, and what an honor is thus
assigned to them! It is strange how any young woman pretending to religion can
satisfy herself that she is doing all she can, or all she ought, for God’s glory
and the good of her fellow creatures—who is not devoting her youthful energies
to this blessed work. And yet it is painful to observe how many of the young
women of the more respectable families of our congregations, withhold their
services from this useful and valuable sphere of female activity. I am not
unaware of some difficulties and objections to this engagement for her
daughters, which present themselves to the mind of a careful, judicious, and
anxious mother. But surely the proper exercise of maternal influence and
authority would, in most cases, be sufficient to counterbalance those contingent
evils to which the mixed society of the Sunday-school community might expose
young women, I mean in the way of forming acquaintances and unsuitable
connections. A well-taught and wisely-trained girl will know, and ought to know,
how to avoid general and undesirable familiarity—without being suspected of
haughty disdain or proud neglect of those who are not upon her level in the
ranks of social life. It does require care, I admit, but care will be sufficient
to avoid the evils alluded to. And I freely confess that the frequent and mixed
meetings of teachers of both sexes which are held in some schools, are by no
means necessary for the good working of the system, and are very undesirable on
other accounts; and it is not to be wondered at, that for this reason, many
mothers do not allow their daughters to become teachers, and that daughters
themselves do not wish to engage in the work. Acquaintances, by no means
suitable, have, no doubt, in some cases been formed. It is therefore incumbent
upon all who are thus engaged to be anxiously watchful that no part of their
conduct give to those who seek it, occasion to speak ill of the effect of
Sunday-school teaching upon the character and conduct of the women who devote
themselves to it.

District-visiting Societies and benevolent institutions for affording temporal
relief and spiritual instruction to the sick poor, conducted by female agency,
are become very common both in the Church of England and among Dissenters. It
would not be desirable, of course, that these should be chiefly conducted by
young women. Matronly age, experience, and weight, are necessary to give
propriety and effect to such a labor of love, but surely there is no impropriety
in associating even in these good works, a youthful female with an elderly one.
The Bible and Missionary Societies, and other religious institutions, have
called into operation a large number of women who are employed in collecting
money for those important organizations, and for supplying the poor with copies
of the word of God. There can be no objection to this, provided the more
youthful portion of the sex so employed be associated with those who are older,
and also that very young girls be not employed at all in the work. Nothing can
be more repugnant to my sense of propriety, than for young women to be sent out
with what are called "collecting cards," to wander over a town knocking at the
doors of anybody and everybody for the purpose of begging money, and sometimes
even entering counting-houses, and assailing young men with their importunities.
The distribution of religious tracts is another line of female activity in which
many may be eminently useful. This is a means of doing good universally
characteristic of the age. The press was never so active either for good or for
evil as it is now. Its productions are instruments which every hand can
wield—even that of a young and even comparatively illiterate female. But the
same caution must be here applied also, that nothing be done to break down the
barriers of female modesty.

Perhaps it will be thought I ought not to overlook one line of female usefulness
peculiar to the sex, and especially to the youthful portion of it, and that is,
furnishing articles of the pencil and needle, the products of which when sold
shall go to the support of the cause of Christ. There is one way of doing this,
about which I confess I have serious doubt; I mean the modern practice of
bazaars, or as they are now called, "Fancy Sales." I am aware of all the
arguments that are employed in favor of them, such as their gainfulness, and
their calling forth contributions from those who would give or could give in no
other way. A very beautiful little tract, entitled "The Bazaar," was published
two years ago, in which the writer, not without a show of argument, endeavored
to prove that these means for the support of religion hardly comport with the
sanctity of the object. A certain air of frivolity and worldliness at these
sales is thrown over the whole; so that such a scene looks like piety keeping a
stall at "Vanity Fair." "Recall," says this writer, "the scene itself—the gay
dress, the music and the raffle, flattery and compliment instead of truth.
Purchases made from regard to man, and not free-will offerings to God.
Mortification and disappointment in place of the approving consciousness of her
who ’had done what she could.’ Skill exercised in making that which is worthless
pass for much. Arts practiced, advantages taken, with the excuse that it is for
a religious purpose, that would be thought dishonorable in the common business
transactions of the world. Then follows the feeling of weariness and
dissatisfaction after excitement; the gaze at the heap of left things to be
disposed of, or that will do for other bazaars, with the false estimate of the
result of this. There is another fact in the history of such sales; some who
shun the ball-room and the concert, and never entered a theater, act there the
shop-woman, talk the nonsense befitting the bazaar room, and are as worldly,
vain, and foolish, as she who seldom dreams of anything but pleasure, earth, and
time."

Now this, I admit, is rather severe, and is perhaps a little exaggerated. Still
there is much truth in it, and it may serve as a corrective, if it should not as
a dissuasive. To the pure, all things are pure, and there may be those who can
enter, pass through, and leave such scenes, without receiving the smallest
injury to the devout and happy seriousness of their religious character. At any
rate it is coming near "the appearance of evil," and should excite caution and
prayer on the part of those who consider the matter as innocent and therefore
lawful. Bazaars, however, are not the only way in which the needle is employed
by pious women for works of charity. Working parties are very common—one meets
periodically in my vestry, at which articles of utility are made and shipped for
sale in India, the produce of which, amounting sometimes for one year’s labor to
eighty pounds, is devoted to the support of orphan schools connected with our
missionary stations abroad. At these meetings, piety, friendship, and zeal, all
blend their feelings of enjoyment, and furnish happy seasons for those who
attend them.

I knew a most accomplished woman, long since in heaven, who was called by grace
out of the mirthful world, and who after her conversion felt an irresistible
desire to do something for the spiritual welfare of her fellow creatures and the
glory of God—but her means were more limited than her aspirations. She
thoroughly understood the science of music, and her most exquisite singing had
been the delight of mirthful and fashionable circles. Her taste in drawing and
painting was equal to her skill in music. After her conversion to God she turned
these abilities to the purpose of glorifying God, "who does instruct man to
discretion," by setting some of the most admired Italian and German tunes to
sacred words, and painting Scripture subjects, and selling the music and
pictures in the circle of her friends, often for large sums, especially the
paintings, and consecrating all, like the woman who broke her alabaster box of
ointment, to the honor of the Savior whom she intensely loved. Perhaps there may
range over these pages the eye of some similarly gifted woman, with a heart for
Christ and his cause, but with as scanty property to serve him, as the female
above alluded to; to her I would say, "Go and do likewise!" Is there not one way
in which young women, unable to do much in producing tasteful works, may be
occupied in doing good for God and their fellow-creatures, without in the
smallest degree violating the rule of decorum or infringing on the delicacy of
female modesty—I mean visiting the chamber of sickness, or the cottage of
poverty, to read to the invalid or the ignorant of their own sex, the Word of
God and religious tracts? Surely it is no invasion of either the rights of man
or the duties of the minister, for a pious modest female, though young, (of
course I do not mean a child,) to go to the bedside of a sufferer, and pour into
her ears the words, and into her heart the sacred truths, of that precious
volume, which is the best balm for a wounded spirit, and the only consolation
for a broken heart. Nor can it be improper for her to take her chair by the side
of a poor mother who, while she is plying her needle, or watching the cradle, is
ready to hear words whereby she may be saved.

What a field of usefulness, almost unoccupied, is here opened to the ambition
and the energies of our pious young women who have leisure for such occupation!
How many thousands of women of the laboring classes are there in every large
town, who are so occupied by the cares of their families and the demands of
their husbands, as never to join the public assemblies for worship, or to hear
the joyful sound of the sermon, or the psalm, who would hail as a ministering
angel a female coming to their scene of constant monotonous care and labor, and
causing their dreary abode to echo with the music that tells of a present
salvation even for them, and of a land hereafter where the "wicked cease from
troubling, and the weary are forever at rest."

Oh you "devout women, not a few," if you have hearts of pity for the poor; or
compassion for the souls that are likely to be lost amid their "being anxious
and troubled about many things and their much serving;" or if you have any zeal
for the glory of God, do, do, employ your leisure hours in paying these visits
of mercy to the houses of poverty, ignorance, sickness, and misery. Here there
can be nothing in opposition to female modesty, nothing that can minister to
female vanity. The seclusion of the scene prevents all this—no crude or
inquisitive gaze follows a young woman there; no language of fulsome compliment
or sickly adulation is addressed to her there; she is alone with sorrow, or
witnessed only by her conscience and her God. Oh, what compared with a young
female so occupied is the most elegant and beautiful woman glittering in the gay
scene of fashionable folly—the admiration of many eyes and the envy of more?
What is all the adulation poured by the lip of flattery into the ear of beauty,
compared with the blessing of her who was ready to perish, so gratefully
bestowed on that sister of mercy, who had thus "caused the widow’s heart to sing
for joy."

Friendship affords a means of usefulness of which you ought not to be slow in
availing yourself. It may be you have formed friendships in the days of your
thoughtlessness with some as thoughtless as yourselves. But you have been
awakened to solemn and holy reflection. You have through the work of divine
grace passed from death unto life; but your friends still remain under the power
of the world and far from God. Here then is a most legitimate object of pious
zeal, to seek by all affectionate and judicious means their conversion to
Christ. What an honor and felicity would it be, should you be the means of
saving the soul of your companion! How close and tender would be your friendship
from that hour, when the tie of affection was doubled and sanctified by the bond
of saving faith! How happy would be your friendship, how sweet your communion! A
friendship is made between you which will go with you to heaven; for all
friendships formed on the basis of religion will last forever. Take with you
then if you can, to that happy world, the friend of your heart, there to renew,
perfect, and perpetuate the communion which you have commenced on earth, and
realize the idea that the closest and happiest friendship commenced below is but
the bud, and scarcely even that, which will blossom with unending freshness
through eternity in heaven!

Women’s talent for a flowing easy tender style of correspondence is generally
acknowledged; and ought they not to employ this as a means for serving God and
their fellow-creatures? How many have been thus led to an acquaintance with
religion. There is a great moral power in a well-written religious letter. It is
known and felt to be an effusion of love from one heart to another. It is read
alone, when no one is a witness of the effect. There is not the reproving or
monitory presence of the writer. There is no disposition to feel offended and to
resent the intrusive advice or warning. Young women, employ your pen and let
your affection in this manner breathe from your letters.

I shall now lay down some RULES for the direction of female activity, which must
be very rigidly observed in order to prevent it from doing harm in one way as
well as good in another. The zeal of young women must ever be exercised with the
strictest regard to the MODESTY of youth, and especially of youthful women. It
must never be forgotten that bashful modesty is the beauty of female
character—like the violet, which seems to court seclusion, and indicates its
retreat only by its fragrance—bashful modesty in her, adds to her attractions.
Anything that would destroy this; that would strip off this delicate veil of
modesty, and make her bold and obtrusive; that would thrust her by the impulsive
ambition of her own mind upon the public notice, instead of being sought out for
usefulness; that would make her clamorous in her complaints of neglect, and
imperious in her demands for employment; would inflict an irreparable injury on
society by depriving her of that passive power of gentleness by which her
influence can be most effectually exerted in society.

I confess that with all my desires for female activity within its proper sphere,
and the legitimate exercise of woman’s zeal, the extent to which in the active
spirit of the age, the female sex is employed, makes me not a little jealous for
the delicate beauties and excellences of the female character. Money might flow
into the treasury of our societies, and numbers might be added to their friends,
spirit might be given to our operations, and the triumphs of the cause might
seem to be multiplied—but if any injury were sustained by the female character,
all that was otherwise achieved would be accomplished at a dreadful cost and a
fearful loss.

Therefore I entreat you, my young friends, to guard against this evil. Cultivate
the meekness, gentleness, and bashful modesty which are your brightest
ornaments. Make it appear that in what you are doing for God and his cause, you
neither seek publicity, nor aim to attract attention, nor to court applause.
Avoid all that undue familiarity, flippancy, and trifling with the other sex,
which would look as if your object was rather to attract notice from them, than
really to do good. I ask for nothing prim, prudish, or repulsive; for no dread
of converse with men, or flight from their company, as if there were moral
contamination in their presence and pollution in their words. Excessive prudery
is no indication of the highest toned purity; nor is an easy, artless frankness
of manner, the indication of a bold and forward disposition. Still, be reserved,
without pride or coldness—and frank, easy, and ingenuous, without familiarity
and obtrusiveness. In this age your danger lies in the latter extreme rather
than in the former. Be contented that your influence should flow through society
like the blood in the human frame, carrying life and energy with it, but by
channels where it is neither heard nor seen.

Female zeal in religious matters must ever be carried forward with due regard to
the duties of home. If, as I have stated, home is the sphere of woman’s mission,
and the first and chief place of her duty, no public objects of any kind must be
allowed to interfere with them. This I have already alluded to, but on account
of its importance I refer to it again. It is not to the honor of religion, nor
to the credit of a wife and mother, for a husband to come home at the dinner
hour expecting to see everything ready and in order, and to find all in
confusion, and nothing properly arranged, and have his time wasted by waiting
for his wife, who has not finished her benevolent rambles, or her morning’s
attendance at some women’s meeting. Nor is it much for his happiness on coming
home in the evening, suffering from the fatigue and vexation of the world’s
rough business, and when needing the soothing influence of a wife’s sweet voice,
to have to sit hours in sadness and solitude, because she is away at some public
service. This is not the way to promote wedded felicity, or to interest his mind
on behalf of the objects of his wife’s zeal. It will never do to serve the Lord
with time taken from domestic order, comfort, and family duty! A neglected
husband and family are a sad comment upon some women’s religious activity—and it
is a comment not infrequently expressed by those who see it in the appearance of
the children and the house. On the opposite extreme, there are many who could do
much Christian service without infringing on domestic claims, but who will do
nothing—and avail themselves to justify their own selfishness and indolence.

Still a woman may look well to the ways of her household, and yet have time to
devote to the cause of religion and humanity; and some do so, who by method,
diligence, and efficiency, set their house in order. The description of the
virtuous woman comprehends both of these—"She looks well to the ways of her
household. The heart of her husband does safely trust her, so that he shall have
no need of spoil. Her children rise up and call her blessed. She gives food to
her household, and her portion to her maidens. She eats not the bread of
idleness." Here is domestic order, management, economy, in perfection. Yet with
all this is associated, "She stretches out her hands to the poor yes, she
reaches forth her hands to the needy; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."
There the good housewife is supposed to find time for works of mercy abroad as
well as of industry at home. When the comfort of a husband is never neglected,
and he has no reason to complain, and does not complain, of the lack of his
wife’s friendship; and the supervision of the children, as to their general
well-being, and their education and home-training are properly attended to; and
the whole course of domestic order is maintained with regularity and
precision—it is to a Christian woman’s honor that her method of efficiency and
order in the regulation of her household affairs is such as to leave her ample
time for usefulness—without infringing on her duties as a wife, a mother, or a
manager of the household. Except in the case of a large family, a lack of all
Christian service is no credit to any female. She cannot be educating her family
as she ought to do, if she is not, by her example as well as by her precept,
training them to habits of benevolence. The two extremes then are to be avoided
by a married woman, of allowing, on the one hand, the duties of home so entirely
to engross her heart, as to feel no interest in anything that is going on in the
world for the alleviation of its sorrows or the reformation of its vices, and to
cherish no desire to promote the great objects of Christian zeal—and, on the
other hand, of allowing Christian service to occupy her attention so far as to
neglect the claims of her husband, children, and servants. The chief danger in
this age lies in giving too much attention to public duties, especially in the
metropolis, the seat and center of all our great societies, and the place of
their annual convocation. It is not much to the credit of a mother, nor for the
advantage of her daughters, to be fond of taking them to many of these public
gatherings. The month of May affords a strong temptation to this, and it should
be most assiduously guarded against. It is not only lawful, but proper and
desirable, that our wives and daughters should be present at such meetings. Who
would debar them from all these assemblies, or shut them out from all these
feasts of holy charity, or exclude them from all these scenes in which they take
as deep an interest, and to which they have contributed equally with ourselves?
Their sex is more benefited by them even than the other. Let woman’s heart there
bleed over the woes of humanity, and especially of her down-trodden sisters in
the lands of darkness; let woman’s hand be there stretched out to lift them up
from their degradation, and woman’s eye there sparkle with a brighter luster as
it rejoices over the records of our missions, and the triumphs of Christianity.
But let not this rise into such a passion as shall spoil her for partaking of
interest in home duties. In order to this, let younger women in these days of
general benevolence guard against acquiring in youth that taste for public
activity which, though it will not prevent them from entering into domestic
life, will to a very considerable extent disqualify them for its duties. A love
of activity is good; a passion for it is an evil. There is such a thing as
well-regulated, temperate, religious zeal—and there is also such a thing as a
species of religious excessiveness. When a young person loves home and home
duties, but is ever willing and ready on suitable occasions, and for a proper
object, to leave them for works of religious and common benevolence, she has a
right disposition. But when home and home duties are irksome, and she is ever
longing for the excitement of public services, her taste has been corrupted, her
character damaged, and her prospects for future life have become somewhat
beclouded. If she has abandoned the intention or wish ever to become a wife, and
has determined to be a sister of charity, it may be all very well to desire to
give herself wholly to works of benevolent activity—but if not, let her beware
how she acquires tendencies, and forms habits, which would equally unfit and
indispose her for the duties of wedded life.

Young women while at home should be generally regulated by the wishes of their
parents, and especially by their mothers. They are not, and should neither wish
nor attempt to be, independent of parental control. A good and wise daughter
will ever look up with affectionate deference to a good and wise mother, and
will not therefore enter on any career of religious activity without consulting
her. It may be that the wishes of the child and the opinions of the parent, on
this point, are sometimes in opposition to each other, and it requires little
argument to prove which in this case ought to give way.

Perhaps, some zealous, ardent, young female will put such a question as this—"I
feel it my duty to God to attempt to spread religion, and to do good to my
fellow-creatures, especially in the way of saving their souls; but my parents,
not being themselves Christians, oppose it, and will not allow me either to
engage in Sunday-school instruction, to collect for missionary or Bible
societies, to distribute tracts, or to read the Scriptures to the poor. Is it my
duty to follow out my own convictions, or yield up my wishes to my parents?" It
would be very proper for you, in a respectful and deferential manner, to state
your wishes, and use every argument to obtain their compliance—but if this
should prove ineffectual, you must then submit and bear the privation without
resentful sullenness. To be moody, ill-tempered, and petulant under the refusal,
would too plainly indicate that you have much yet to do in your own heart, to
foster religion there, before you seek to communicate it to others. You are
under no such obligation to exercise your religious zeal in any particular
way—as you are to seek your own salvation. It is manifestly your duty to do
good, and you can do it, even under such restrictions as those I am now
supposing; for you can set a holy example, and you can pray for the spiritual
welfare of others, and correspond with absent friends, and perhaps influence by
conversation your companions—and thus are not, and cannot be, shut out from all
methods of doing good. And as for those from which you are debarred by parental
authority, God will take the desire for the deed, and reward the intention, as
he would have done the action, had you been permitted to perform it.

Consider also that as your parents do not enter into your views of religion,
they will regard your conduct, if you persist, in no other light than that of a
refractory spirit, and will thus receive a prejudice against religion on account
of your conduct—whereas a meek and good-natured yielding to their wishes, and
sacrificing an object which they perceive to have been near your heart, will
dispose them to think favorably of the religious principle which could produce
such a spirit of unresisting and uncomplaining self-denial. In order to be
useful, it is necessary to cultivate habits of order, punctuality, and the right
employment of TIME. There is no doing good without the proper use of time. Two
things cannot be done at once. Benevolent service requires time. And how much
time is wasted, which the miseries and needs of society require! "Redeem the
time!"—is a warning that should ever be sounding in our ears. We need it for the
improvement of our own souls—and we need it for the good of others. We can do
much with a proper use of time—and nothing without it. There is scarcely
anything to which the injunction of our Lord more strictly applies than to
time—"Gather up the fragments that nothing be lost." Order redeems time, so does
punctuality—therefore order and punctuality are ways of supplying the time
necessary for the exercise of deeds of mercy.

Redeem time from useless reading, and other selfish entertainments—and also from
that excessive addictedness to the worldly accomplishments of music, arts, and
fancy craft-works, which are so characteristic of the present day. That some
portion of time may be given to these things is admitted. I am not for parting
with the exquisite polish which skill in these matters imparts to female
elegance. I love to see the decorations of female mind and manners. Of this I
may have to speak again in a future chapter, and therefore shall merely now
enquire—when the cries of misery are entering into her ears, and the groans of
creation are arising all around her; when countless millions abroad are living
and dying without the light of the gospel and the hope of salvation; when at our
own doors will be found so many passing in ignorance and wickedness to their
eternal destinies—is it humane for a Christian woman to spend so much precious
time each day over her knitting, crotchet, or embroidery work? As she sits
plying those needles, and bringing out, it may be, the tasteful design hour
after hour—does she never hear the cry of human woe, "Come over and help us!"
Does it never occur to her, how many souls have gone into eternity unprepared to
meet their God, since she took her chair and commenced her daily entertainment?

Or, even leaving out of view the employment of her time for deeds of mercy to
others; is it not an afflicting sight to behold so much time thrown away on
these elegant trifles, which might be employed in cultivating one’s own mind and
heart, by reading useful Christian literature? You cannot, systematically, do
good either to yourself or others, without redeeming time for the purpose!

Perhaps the following very striking antithetic description of time will interest
and instruct many of the readers of this chapter—"TIME is the most undefinable
yet paradoxical of things; the past is gone, the future has not yet come, and
the present becomes the past, even while we attempt to define it, and like the
flash of the lightning, at once exists and expires. Time is the measure of all
things, but is itself immeasurable, and the grand discloser of all things, but
is itself undisclosed. Like space, it is incomprehensible, because it has no
limit, and it would be still more incomprehensible, if it had. Time is more
obscure in its source than the Nile, and in its termination than the Niger—and
advances like the slowest tide, but retreats like the swiftest torrent. Time
give wings of lightning to pleasure, but ’feet of lead’ to pain. Time lends
’expectation’ a curb, but ’enjoyment’ a spur. Time robs beauty of her charms.
Time builds a monument to merit, but denies it a house. Time is the transient
and deceitful flatterer of falsehood, but the tried and final friend of truth.
Time is the most subtle yet the most insatiable of predators, and by appearing
to take nothing, is permitted to take all—nor can it be satisfied, until it has
stolen the world from us, and us from the world. Time constantly flies, yet
overcomes all things by flight, and although it is the present ally, it will be
the future conqueror of death. Time—the cradle of hope but the grave of
ambition—is the stern corrector of fools, but the salutary counselor of the
wise, bringing all they dread to the one, and all they desire to the other; but
like Cassandra, it warns us with a voice that even the sagest discredit too
long, and the silliest believe too late. Wisdom walks before it, opportunity
with it, and repentance behind it—he who has made time his friend, will have
little to fear from his enemies, but he who has made it his enemy, will have
little to hope from his friends."

Permit me now to remind you that all your efforts of religious zeal should be
carried on in a spirit of FAITH and PRAYER. Christian zeal should not be merely
the love of activity, much less an ambitious fondness for publicity and display,
that moves you; but the overpowering feelings of love to God and love to man.
Zeal must not be a substitute for religion, but the impulse and the constraining
power of it. Instead of weakening your own piety, zeal must strengthen it.
Emanating from your own holy mind, zeal must, like the newly kindled flame,
react upon and increase the fervor of its source. You must be watchful over your
spirit, and take care that your humility and spirituality be not impaired by a
spirit of vanity. You should look well to your motives, and subject your heart
to a most rigid self-scrutiny. In the retirement of the closet you should
cultivate that spirit of dependence which expresses itself in prayer—and is
cherished by prayer. The more you do for the spiritual welfare of others, the
more you must do for your own. You should take alarm if you find that the
excitements of zeal produce indisposedness for the more retired and quiet
exercises of devotion. A renewed consecration to your work should often taken
place—preceded by a renewed consecration of yourselves to God. To encourage you
in your career of holy activity, I may call you, in CONCLUSION, to consider the
nature of your work, and the consequences that will follow even your humble
endeavors to carry it on. It is salvation, the gift of God to man, which Jesus
Christ came to our world to produce, and the Scriptures are written to describe
and impart. It is saving religion, the balm of man’s wounded heart, the
renovator of his corrupt nature, the means of his happiness, his preparation for
immortal glory—it is saving religion, the source of individual comfort, domestic
peace, social order, national prosperity, and the whole world’s restoration—it
is saving religion, which shall cover our earth with the glories of millennial
bliss, and raise up countless millions of our race from the ruins of the fall to
the heavens of the eternal God—it is saving religion, which shall be the glory
and the bliss of the redeemed church throughout eternity—it is saving religion,
the cause for which prophets testified, apostles labored, martyrs bled,
ministers toil at home, and missionaries abroad; it is this that you are
promoting by all your efforts of religious zeal! In this cause you shall not
labor in vain, nor without your reward, for "the earth shall be full of the
knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea;" and your humble labors,
though as drops in that mighty ocean, shall help to swell and impel the mighty
mass; and after this, shall come the world where you shall be gathered unto
those holy women whose lives were briefly recorded in a past chapter, and to all
those chaste virgins and holy matrons, who have wrought to weave by their
labors, the crown of glory which shall ever flourish on the head of our
Emmanuel!


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  CHAPTER 80: 06.06.     THE PARENTAL HOME
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THE PARENTAL HOME

"Children, obey your parents in the Lord; for this is right. Honor your father
and mother; which is the first commandment with promise." Ephesians 6:1-2 "It is
better to dwell in the wilderness, than with a contentious and an angry woman."
Proverbs 21:19 "Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another
above yourselves." Romans 12:10

It was the saying of a judicious governess to a pupil on leaving her
establishment, "Be assured, my young friend, that the order, comfort and
happiness of a family, very greatly depend upon the disposition and conduct of
the younger members of it—when they cease to be children. I have seen the
declining years of some kind parents completely embittered by the pride,
self-will, and inconsiderate conduct of their children. When a young lady
returns home, if she is not so good a daughter as she was before, whatever
acquisitions she may have made at school, she had better not have been there."
This advice, so sensible and so appropriate, not only shows how well-qualified
was the admirable woman who offered it for the discharge of her duties, but is
well worthy of being written on the first page of every young woman’s album,
yes, upon the tablet of her heart, and of being read by her every day of her
residence in her father’s house.

What we are at home, is what we really are. Everyone is best known at home. Many
change their conduct and behavior when they go into social company. It has
become almost a proverbial saying—"Tell me not what people are in company—but
what they are in the family circle." Home, as I have already said, is one of the
sweetest words in our language; and nowhere better understood than in our own
country. But it involves as many duties as it does enjoyments. It is not only a
paradise of delights—but a school of virtue. A family is a little world within
doors; the miniature resemblance of the great world without. It is in the home
of her parents that a young female is trained for a home of her own—and
generally speaking what she was in the former, that, in full maturity and
expansion, she will be in the latter; the good wife and judicious mother,
looking well to the way of her household, being the full-blown rose of which the
good girl at home was the bud of promise and of hope. And it may be depended
upon as a principle, suggested by reason, as well as a fact corroborated by
observation, that she who contributes nothing to the happiness of her early home
as a daughter, is not likely to find others contributing to her later one as a
wife, a mother, and a manager of the household. It is therefore of immense
importance that you should at once, at the very commencement of this chapter,
pause and ponder the momentous truth, that you are preparing your own future
home by the manner in which you conduct yourself in the home of your father—and
because of its importance it is thus dwelt upon with such repetition. In one
aspect the subject of this chapter is of more consequence in reference to you,
than it is in reference to your brothers; you remain longer at home than they.
It is the usual order of things for them to remove early from beneath the
parental roof, first to learn, and then to pursue, their avocations in life; so
that if their disposition be unamiable and their habits unfriendly to domestic
peace, they soon depart and the annoyance goes with them. But you, if not
necessitated to go out into a situation for your own support, remain with your
parents until you are married; and if not wedded, you are with them continually.
In the latter case, being a fixture in the household, you are under the greater
obligation to increase its happiness. Of how much comfort or distress, according
to her character and conduct, may a daughter be to a family through a period of
ten or twenty years, dating from the period of her completion of her education!
Hence it is always a source, not of unmixed delight, but of some anxiety, to a
considerate mother, what kind of home character her child will prove when she
has finished her education, and exchanges the company of her teachers and
fellow-pupils, for that of the family circle.

Here then is the first thing, the great thing, to be determined upon by the
young woman on her return home—to be largely a contributor to the happiness of
the domestic circle. You cannot be a cipher in the house, or a nonentity. The
other members of the little community must be affected by your conduct. You are
ever in the midst of them, and your actions, words, and even your looks, exert
an influence upon them. Behold, then, your starting point in the career of home
duties. Take up this resolution, intelligently, deliberately, determinately, "I
will, by God’s grace, do all I can to make my home happy to others—and thus
comfortable to myself."

Look at this resolution, ponder it, imprint it on your memory, heart,
conscience. Is it not wise, virtuous, right? Do not reason, conscience,
self-love, approve it? Let it be a serious matter of consideration with you, not
merely a thought passing through the mind, and leaving no trace behind; but a
deep, abiding, influential consideration. Have not your parents a right to
expect it? Is it not the most reasonable thing in the world, that enjoying the
protection and comforts of home—you should in return make home happy? To diffuse
happiness anywhere is a blissful enjoyment, but most of all at home. To light up
any countenances with joy, is to a benevolent mind, a desirable thing; but most
of all the countenances of parents, brothers, and sisters. Set out with an
intense ambition to compel from the whole family circle the testimony that it
was a happy era in its history when you permanently resided at home. O, to hear
a mother say, "Your coming, my daughter, was as the settling of a ministering
angel among us; your amiability of disposition, your constant efforts to please,
your sweet and gentle self-sacrificing disposition have been a lamp in our
dwelling, in the light of which we have all rejoiced. What a large accession, my
beloved child, have you brought to our domestic felicity! Receive your mother’s
thanks and blessing." The hardest heart would be moved by such a hope as this.

Contemplate now the contrast to this, when the conduct of the daughter is such
as to extort such a declaration as the following from sorrowful parents—"We
looked forward with pleasure and with hope, not altogether unmixed with anxiety,
to the time when we would receive her back from school, to be our companion and
our comfort. But how bitter is our disappointment! Her unamiable disposition,
her heedlessness of our happiness, her restlessness in the family circle, her
craving for any company but ours—are painfully obvious. It was, we regret to say
it, a sad increase of our domestic trouble, when she became a permanent
inhabitant of our house." Sighs and tears follow this sad confession. Which of
these shall be the case with you? Can you hesitate?

Having then made up your mind to be a comfort at home, you should, and will, of
course, inquire into the means of accomplishing your purpose. These will, if the
purpose be fixed, and the desire intense, almost without any enumeration suggest
themselves. Those who really want to make others happy, will find out their own
means of doing so, and be ingenious in their devices to effectuate their end.
Many things are difficult and require deep thought, but not so the desire to
please. If our heart be set upon it, we can diffuse bliss almost without effort
or contrivance. From a heart fully possessed with the desire to make others
happy, kind attitudes, words, and acts will perpetually flow off, like the
waters of a spring ever rising of themselves. But I will lay down rules for your
guidance, that your behavior at home may contribute to the happiness of your
family circle. Should your parents themselves be truly pious people, who have
trained you up in the fear of the Lord, their deepest solicitude and most
earnest prayer for you, is that you may "Remember your Creator in the days of
your youth." You have been the witnesses of some of their great concern on this
ground, and for this object. You have heard a father’s prayers, have seen,
perhaps, a mother’s tears for your salvation; but of the whole of their concern
on this point you never can know. It is too deep for you to fathom. Until this
great subject is determined; until they see you in earnest to lead a pious life,
they cannot be happy. They value your love, your respect, your attentions to
their comfort, your general good conduct, your acquirements, and not
infrequently feel a parent’s delight over you. But "Alas, alas," they say, "one
thing you lack yet, and that is, the one thing needful—true piety, the salvation
of the soul. Oh, my daughter, that you were a real Christian; and that your love
to Christ were as sincere as your love for me—and that all your other
excellences were sanctified by the crowning one of true religion."

What a check is such a reflection to the joy of a Christian parent. How many
hours of bitterness such reflections occasion! What an interruption to the bliss
of a family does it occasion when there is a difference of experience on this
most momentous of all subjects! How is a mother’s heart grieved to see her
daughters, after all the pains she has taken to form their religious character,
more taken up with fashion, company, and gaiety—than with eternal realities! And
that good man, their father, how is he distressed to see his counsels unheeded,
his prayers unanswered, and they whom he had hoped to lead to the altar of God,
far more fond of the fleeting mirthful vanities of the world! On the other hand,
how happy are those parents whose children are one with them in this momentous
concern. How sweet and sacred are the seasons of family worship, when, not by
constraint, but willingly, the children assemble round the domestic altar, and
join in the sacrifice of prayer and praise. No jars and discords now arise for
the lack of sympathy in these great subjects. No opposition of tastes occurs, no
clashing of interests. Very often does the mother exclaim in the fondness of her
heart, "Thank God, that dear girl is a Christian, and to all her other
excellences which endear her to my heart, adds piety towards God. The beauties
of holiness invest her charms with a loveliness that nothing else can impart."
In order to make home happy, there must be a proper consideration and right
discharge of all the duties you owe to the various members of the little
community of which it is composed.

First of all, there are the duties to your PARENTS. That home cannot be a happy
one where they are neglected, and filial duty is lacking in the heart and
conduct of the children. God has selected the most comprehensive term that could
be employed on this subject, "Honor your father and mother." This includes
respect, love, and obedience. It is not necessary here to state the claims which
parents have upon your gratitude, reverence, and regard. I can only remind you
how much of the happiness of home depends upon a right understanding and
discharge of the duties you owe to them. When the father’s heart is wounded by
disobedient conduct, or even disrespectful language; when the mother’s comfort
is neglected, and her burdens are unshared—when it is apparent that the children
are much more intent upon their own gratification than that of their
parents—when services are rendered to them tardily, reluctantly, and with bad
attitudes—when dissatisfaction is uttered by the parent, only to be answered by
disrespect from the child, happiness must be a stranger in such a home.
Disobedience in young children, in whom reason and reflection are yet feeble, is
bad enough, but it is far worse in those who are grown or growing to years of
maturity. On the other hand, if it be beautiful to see the tender obedience and
affectionate attentions of childhood, which are rather the efforts of instinct
than of reason—it is a far more attractive scene to witness the reverent regard,
the studious desire to please, the anxious effort to gratify, manifested towards
her parents by a grownup daughter. Here the intelligent mind is moved by the
affectionate heart, and the affectionate heart is, in return, guided and
impelled by the intelligent mind. If your parents have been less educated than
you, and at the same time have spared no expense to afford you advantages which
they did not possess, how ungrateful would it be in you, by any part of your
conduct, to display your superiority and make them conscious of their ignorance!
Before a mother’s infirmities reach the point of actual incompetency, a good
daughter will feel solicitous to share with her the burden of domestic care, and
to relieve her as far as possible from her load of maternal duty. This requires
caution, lest by an meddlesome intrusion of help, it would be suspected she was
desirous of thrusting the mother from her superintendence, and of stepping into
her place. It can never fail to wound a mother’s heart to be supposed to be
incompetent to fill her own situation as female head of the family. Even when
senility is creeping on, she should be made to feel it as little as possible,
and the forms and show of authority should be allowed to remain, when the
reality has passed away. Jealousy is one of the last passions that die in the
human heart, and it should not be awakened by any part of filial conduct in the
mind of a parent. A wife, mother, and manager of the household, deposed by her
daughter, is a painful sight. She may have much weakness, but still enough
reflection remains to make her feel her humiliation.

Therefore, young women, in aiding a mother, do not attempt to wrest the keys
from her keeping, but only employ them under her direction. For this be ever
ready. It is to me one of the most lovely scenes on earth to see a young woman
risen up to be the companion and helper of her mother, placing herself by her
side, and foregoing many an invitation and opportunity of personal enjoyment to
relieve her solitude, to lighten her cares, or to minister to her comfort. Your
object should be to share your mother’s labors, without superseding her
authority—and to assist her in a way so tender and so delicate as shall neither
awaken her suspicion that you wish to supplant her, nor make her feel that she
is incapable of doing without you. To these duties all should be attentive, but
especially those daughters who make a profession of religion.

Many who will read this work are happily in this state—and to them would I most
earnestly and affectionately say, "Let your light shine" at home, that its
inhabitants "seeing your good works, may glorify God your Heavenly Father." Let
it be most impressively and constantly felt by you, and let it be seen by
others, that you feel that Christianity is no abstract thing of times, places,
and occasions; but an element of the general character, which is to enter into
all relations, all duties, and all engagements. It must improve you in
everything, spreading like a gilded surface over your whole selves and all your
conduct, and shining like a beautiful polish on every other excellence. It must
make you a better daughter in every aspect—more respectful, more kind, more
devoted to your parents; and compel them to say, "Happy was the day when she
became a Christian, for from that hour she became a lovelier and more loving
child!"

It may be that the parents of some of you are not truly converted to God. This
places you in a difficult and delicate situation, and will require the utmost
solicitude, care, and prayer, that you may be prevented from doing, or being,
anything that would prejudice them against religion; and that you may be enabled
on the contrary so to conduct yourself as to predispose them in its favor. You
must affect no superiority, nor even seem to say, "Stand aside—I am holier than
you." This is improper towards any one, much more towards a parent. You can pray
for them, and you can exhibit to them, by your example, invested with all the
beauties of holiness, what religion is; but direct efforts to bring them under
its influence, though they should not be altogether withheld, should be
conducted with the greatest tenderness, humility, modesty and delicacy. There
must be no lecturing, much less any reproach or accusation. A deep, tender,
loving solicitude for their spiritual welfare, must be seen veiled with modesty,
but still seen, penetrating the transparent and graceful covering; a solicitude
which only now and then presumes to speak; but, when it does, always in love.
Such a line of conduct may accomplish its purpose, and produce results like the
following— A female, who had been some years known and respected for her quiet,
consistent, unobtrusive, Christian deportment, called on her minister to
introduce her aged mother, who leaned on her arm, and seemed to repose on her
that tender dependence which is so soothing and delightful to an aged parent,
and so heart-thrilling to a dutiful and grateful child. Both were overcome by
their feelings, and it was some moments before either could speak. The minister
desired them to be seated, and cheerfully said, ’Well Hannah, I suppose this is
your good mother, I am very happy to see her.’ ’Yes,’ replied the mother in
broken accents, ’Her mother, and her daughter too. Twenty-five years ago I bore
her in infancy; and now through her instrumentality, I trust I am born to God.’

Mr. Jay relates a similar anecdote. ’Well,’ said a mother, one day, weeping (her
daughter being proposed as a candidate for Christian communion), ’I will resist
no longer. How can I bear to see my dear child love and read the Scriptures,
while I never look into the Bible; to see her retire and seek God, while I never
pray; to see her going to the Lord’s table, while his death is nothing to me?’
’Ah,’ said she to the minister who called to inform her of her daughter’s
desire, wiping her eyes, ’Yes, sir, I know she is right and I am wrong—I have
seen her firm under reproach, and patient under provocation, and cheerful in all
her sufferings. When, in her late illness, she was ready to die, heaven stood in
her face. Oh, that I was as fit to die! I ought to have taught her, but I am
sure she has taught me. How can I bear to see her joining the church of God, and
leaving me behind, perhaps forever?’ From that hour she prayed in earnest that
the God of her child would be her God, and was soon seen walking with her in the
way everlasting. But there are, in most cases, other members of the household
besides parents—BROTHERS and SISTERS—who also require attention and right
conduct from a young woman at home. A loving, united, harmonious family, I
repeat again, where the children all promote the comfort of their parents and of
one another; where each is studious to please and to perform all kind offices
for the rest, and all seek the happiness of each, is one of the loveliest scenes
to be found in our selfish and discordant world. Much, very much, depends upon
the daughters for this domestic harmony. They can exert, if prudent,
good-tempered and accommodating—a softening influence over the minds and manners
of their brothers. Sisterly affection, judiciously displayed, is one of the
sweetest and most powerful ingredients in the cup of domestic enjoyment. True it
is, that it will require occasionally some little self-denial, and sacrifice of
personal gratification, desires, and feeling, to conciliate the affection, and
secure the good-will of brothers, who are apt to begin too soon to feel that
they are "the lords of the creation;" but this is necessary to keep the peace of
the family. And a girl of good sense and affectionate disposition, will do a
great deal towards it.

Woman is made to yield, though not to be trampled upon. Her gentle nature is
formed for submission, rather than for resistance. A good and wise sister will
feel this, and her affection will, in most cases, be her protection. Let her put
forth the thousand little ingenious arts, and throw the silken cords of love
over her brother’s hearts, and she may do much to attach, and in some cases,
even to subject, them to her, and make them fond of home. A husband is but too
apt to run away from the home which is tenanted by an ill-natured wife; and
brothers have been often driven away to wicked company—by cross, sullen,
unaccommodating sisters. I am aware that it is but too frequently the case, that
young men are polite and attentive to every female but those they meet at home
every day, and that scarcely any one has to complain of a lack of civility and
pleasantness, but their sisters. At the same time it must be confessed, that
some young women have themselves to blame for this, for it does require more
virtue than is ordinarily found, to be much attached and very attentive to such
an impersonation of pettishness, bad disposition, and vanity—as some silly girls
present at home. How many parents’ comfort is disturbed, and their hearts
half-broken, by the jealousy, envy, and contention of their children! To the
elder daughter, especially if she be older than her brothers also, a larger
share of responsibility attaches than to any other of the children, because her
influence is greater. She does almost as much to form the character of the
younger branches as the mother, and when the latter is feeble or inefficient,
perhaps more. It is a lovely sight to behold an intelligent and affectionate
girl, exerting a gentle, yet not authoritative or dictatorial power, over her
younger brothers or sisters, setting them a beautiful example of filial piety,
and devoting all her efforts to uphold parental authority over them,
conciliating their confidence by her judgment, and their affection by her
kindness; throwing a softening and gentle influence over their cruder and
harsher natures, and compelling the parents to say "She is a second mother to
the family!"

Mothers, I speak to you. Train your daughters, not to be elegant and helpless
ladies—but to be useful wives, mothers, and managers of their homes. Be
yourselves patterns in these things, and secure the imitation of your daughters.
Much will depend upon you in this matter. And you, my young female friends—enter
warmly and wisely into this subject yourselves. Do not assume the ’fine lady’—or
wish to be only a kind of dressed dolls, to be carried about and played with by
others.

I now suggest some other matters, partially implied in what I have already
advanced, but of sufficient importance to be brought out in full view. Among
these must be mentioned AMIABILITY—in other words, that sweetness of disposition
which is ever seeking to please, and to avoid whatever would offend. There is a
saying, that "disposition is everything." This is going too far, since it is not
to be doubted good disposition is sometimes associated with bad principle—while
on the other hand, there are many high-principled and noble-minded individuals,
who are troubled, equally to their own annoyance and that of their friends, with
infirmities of disposition. Still, though not everything, good disposition is a
great thing. Very much depends in this matter upon our physical organization,
for we see the same difference in the brute creation that we observe in the
human species. But this, though an explanation, is not an apology; because
reason and religion may do much, and in myriads of instances have done much, to
correct and improve a naturally bad disposition.

Begin life, young woman, with a deep impression of the value of good
disposition, both to your own happiness and to that of the people with whom you
have to do, especially your family circle. Study well your own disposition. Know
well what it is you have to contend with in your own case, and set yourself most
diligently to subdue it. Be manager of yourself! Bad disposition is a generic
phrase, there are several species of the thing, as for instance, there is a
PEEVISHNESS or PETULANCE about some people which makes them susceptible of
offence, not of either a very deep or passionate kind, but an irritability which
disposes them to be hurt at little things, and to complain of the petty faults
of others.

Then there is the VIOLENT disposition, which is excited, by some supposed or
real offence, to sudden ebullitions of anger, or what we call being in a
rage—sometimes even to violence.

There is also the SULLEN disposition, which, on being contradicted, opposed, or
reproved, sinks into a silent, moody, and inwardly resentful state of mind.
People of this turn will sulk for hours, if not days; retiring into themselves,
they will brood over the matter which has occasioned their unhappy state, until
they have actually made themselves ill by their bad disposition; and yet, if
reasoned with, will assert they are not ill-tempered, but only "hurt." This is
the disposition, which, more than anything else, is an interruption to domestic
peace.

I am no apologist for stormy passions, or for those that indulge them, but those
who are soon in a blaze and as soon cooled down and the fire extinguished, are
not so inimical to the peace of a family, as those in whose heart the embers of
ill-will are kept long smouldering under the ashes and not allowed to go out.

Next there is the SELFISH disposition, which leads its possessor ever to be
seeking to concentrate the attentions of the family upon herself, especially if
subject to sickness. All must bend to her; and every hand be employed for her.
Her will must be consulted in everything, and her comfort be the study of all.
She must engross the affection of her parents, the regard of her brothers and
sisters, and the time and labor of the servants. This is sometimes encouraged by
injudicious parents, who excite the envy and jealousy of the other branches of
the family, by this exaction from all for the sake of the one. True, where there
is great illness the sufferer should be, and usually is, the center of
sympathetic attention—but where the ailments are slight, and especially where
the patient is apt to exaggerate them, she should not be petted into an
engrossing and exacting selfishness; but should be gently taught to have a
little regard to the comfort of others. In addition to these, there is the
JEALOUS and ENVIOUS disposition, which contends not only for pre-eminence, but
for monopoly; which accounts as a rival every one who receives the least special
notice, and dislikes her on that account. What petty passions of this kind often
creep into families, and poison all the springs of domestic happiness! Consider
how much the dispositions of its members have to do with the peace of a
household, how much of sunshine one sweet and lovely disposition, constantly in
exercise, may throw over a household! And on the other hand, how much of gloom,
and storm—one passionate, sullen, selfish, or envious disposition, may bring
over the little community at home. Let all then begin life with a deep
conviction, (and it cannot be too deep,) of the importance of this subject. A
bad disposition will torment you through life. With this you will carry your own
curse with you everywhere. It will multiply your enemies, and alienate your
friends—it will becloud your reason and benumb your religion—it will embitter
your comforts and envenom your trials—it will make you unhappy at home, and
secure you distress when away from home—it will give you wretchedness at the
time, and conscious guilt and painful reflections afterwards. It will deprive
your days of peace and your nights of sleep. In short, a bad disposition will be
to the soul what a chronic and painful disease is to the body, a constant source
of uneasiness and distress, with this difference, that whereas the former is a
visitation from God, the latter is our own doing, and while one brings its own
consolation with it to the Christian, the other brings nothing but punishment
and shame. To make home happy, you must of course conform to its general rules.
This perhaps it is less necessary to insist upon in reference to you than it is
to your brothers, because you are less in danger than they are of infringing
domestic order. Every well-regulated family has its laws and customs; its times
and seasons; its government and authority, which must be observed if the little
community be kept in order and good condition. I will suppose it is a pious
family where God is worshiped, and the morning and evening sacrifice are duly
offered upon the domestic altar. At the appointed hour all ought to be present.
Nothing can be more unseemly than to see one member after another come dropping
in while the Scriptures are being read, as if the Bible were only the prayer
bell to call the family together for worship. I have often witnessed this, and
heard the remonstrances of the father with his dilatory children, whose lack of
punctuality had been occasioned only by a wretched habit of lying late in bed.
It has really in some cases given rise to domestic quarrels.

Much the same remark will apply to other matters. The father of a family may see
reason to object to the late hours of the present day, and may request that all
his household shall be at home by a certain hour of the evening. It may be
thought by his children that he is too precise, too antiquated in his notions,
too inconsiderate of their gratification—but still it is his law, he is master
of his house—and they are subjects who are to obey him. It is unseemly for the
children to be ever maintaining a struggle against paternal rule and maternal
counsel. On the contrary, it is the glory and the praise of a good and dutiful
child to find what sacrifices of feeling and gratification she can submit to,
rather than wrestle with parental authority and domestic government. On the
other hand, parents should be very careful not to make their yoke oppressive,
and their burden heavy. The laws of the family should not be too stringent, nor
the authority of the father tyrannical, capricious and unnecessarily precise.
But they must be obeyed as long as they last, and the elder branches of the
family, where there are younger ones, should excel in leading them both by
example and precept to habitual conformity to household law.

If you would make home happy, you must, of course, be HAPPY at home. No one can
diffuse joy who is not joyful. Attitudes are infectious, because the heart is
sympathetic. Cheerful people make others like themselves, and so do gloomy
people; just as the sun irradiates by his beams, or the clouds darken by their
shadow, the whole landscape. A young person whose heart finds its resting-place
in the domestic circle; whose sympathies are with household scenes; whose chosen
companions are her parents, and her brothers, and sisters; whose pleasures are
the sweet interchanges of domestic services and affections; whose beloved
employment it is to make her daily contribution to the comfort of the little
community within doors; and whose good-natured disposition radiates from smiling
eyes, and flows from gently-curled lips—such an inhabitant is a blessing to the
house in which she dwells. The soft music of her speech, aided by the congenial
influence of her accommodating and influencing disposition, sheds a benevolent
influence on all the family. But observe the opposite to all this, the girl that
looks upon her home as a prison rather than a paradise, and thinks that to stay
at home is a penance rather than a pleasure; and accordingly is anxious to
escape from it, and is ever seeking opportunities to effect her purpose. Her
gloomy aspect, her sullen disposition, her discontented attitude, her repulsive
somberness, her peevish expressions, when she breaks her silence; her
unsympathizing isolation—what a sad member of a family do these dispositions
make her! She has no friends at home—no objects of strong affection—nothing to
engage and interest her heart—but is ever seeking occasions to slip away, upon
any pretense, or for any engagement. She is ever on the watch for opportunities
or excuses for absence; ready for any errand; eager for every business that
opens the door for her departure. She is not happy but in a continual round of
parties, visits, or outdoor novelties, of which this fertile age is so prolific.
Any society rather than that of the family—and any scenes rather than those of
home—suit her taste. Can such a young person make home happy? Yes, if a
dangerous lunatic can do it; for such, or little better, is she. Young people, I
repeat, be happy at home. Parents put forth all your ingenuity to make them so,
by investing home with its proper attractions. Mothers, this devolves much on
you. Be "keepers at home," for a gossiping mother is sure to make gossiping
daughters. Let it be seen that you are happy at home in the midst of your
families. Put on a cheerful countenance, that your children may love to bask in
the sunshine of your smiles. Be the center of attraction to your families, and
let the household delight to revolve in sweetest harmony around your maternal
chair.

Industrious habits will contribute greatly to the happiness of home, especially
on the part of a young female. Slothfulness is a wretched thing, as it regards
the subject of it, and as it affects others. A lazy person cannot be a happy
one. Indolence is a constant opposition to the law of our being, which is made
for activity. That there is a species of indulgence connected with it, is true;
but it is a very mixed kind of gratification, for as it is against nature, there
is sometimes a consciousness of this, which awakens the conscience, and inflicts
remorse. To the remonstrances of conscience are added the reproaches of others.
And as it cannot always be indulged, there are to be overcome the repugnance,
the lassitude, which make the least exertion more wearisome to the indolent than
far greater efforts are to the active. Slothfulness is a miserable object—the
very sight of it inflicts pain upon an industrious person. What a vexation is it
to an industrious mother, to see the dull, heavy, immoveable habits of a
daughter, whom neither entreaties, persuasives, nor rebukes, can quicken into
activity, nor excite to industry—who, if moved at all, must be moved by main
force, and needs every minute the same effort to keep it going—a poor lumpish
creature, who is enough to wear out the patience of the most forbearing and
affectionate mother on earth. Such habits in a daughter must be destructive of
domestic happiness. The misery they create may not, like the profligacy of a
prodigal son, come upon the family with the noise, and destructive force, and
fury, of a hurricane, but it settles down upon its comfort like the silent power
of blight or mildew. It is a constant vexation, which eats into a mother’s
heart, when she finds that a daughter who has grown to an age when she ought to
be a relief to maternal labor and solicitude, is a heavy increase to both. This
wretched habit may be overcome, and it must be, or you will be a poor, helpless,
useless, unhappy creature through life. If indolent in your parent’s house, what
are you likely to be in your own? An idle daughter is likely to make an idle
mother—and from my soul I pity the man who is tied for life to a lazy, indolent
woman. No personal charms, no mental acquirements, no brilliancy of
conversation, can make up for the want of domestic industry—and indeed these
things are rarely found in the absence of industry, for indolence is usually too
lazy to acquire knowledge—the habits of soul and body being in sympathy with
each other.

It is essential to your making home happy that there should be much
self-denial—a spirit of forbearance—an occasional surrender for the sake of
peace, of supposed rights—and a willingness to forego what you could rightfully
claim as your own. I am aware there are limits to this, especially in cases
where concession pampers tyranny and encourages oppression. There may be
brothers, and even sisters, whose disposition is so encroaching, that it should
be resisted under parental authority, for the protection of the weaker and more
yielding members of the household. It is, however, far better in some cases to
concede rights, when the sacrifice is not too costly, and does not involve a
violation of principle, than to contend for them. The contest, even where it is
successful, often costs more than it is worth, the victory does not pay for the
battle. Be, therefore, content sometimes to lose a little for the sake of
retaining more. I cannot give you a piece of advice more conducive to your peace
at home, or to your comfort through life—than to be ever ready gracefully and
quietly to bear with the infirmities of disposition of those around you, and to
yield little things which you deem belong to you, rather than disturb the peace
of the family by contending for them.

Never seek an undue share of parental affection. Let there be no ambition to be
a favorite, nor any arts to obtain this distinction. Some young people have made
home miserable in this way, being base and guilty enough to attempt to rise in
the esteem and affection of their parents, by little arts of detraction in
reference to their brothers and sisters—and their parents being weak enough to
encourage the attempt. Partiality was then not only cherished but manifested.
Envy and jealousy ensued, and the peace of the family was destroyed. Abhor this
conduct and be content to share with other branches of the family your parents’
justly apportioned regard.

Recollect that your power to contribute to the happiness of home does not depend
on the performance of great services, opportunities for which occur but
seldom—but on attention to little matters, which are always taking place. Our
existence as to time, is made up not only of years, but of moments—our body not
only of limbs, but of particles—our history not only of great events, but of
little occurrences—and our obligations, not only of splendid acts of duty, but
of seemingly insignificant ones. Set out in life with a deep sense of the
importance of little things, or rather with a conviction that where character,
duty, and the happiness not only of ourselves but of others are involved,
nothing is little. This applies especially to your conduct in the family. In
that little world then, keep up a constant attention to what will constitute the
felicity of the passing hour. True politeness has been defined to consist in
"benevolence in trifles." This is a beautiful definition, and worthy of being
remembered by all who would fill the family circle with bliss. By politeness
here, I do not mean heartless and unmeaning ceremony; nor even the graceful
polish of manners which characterizes the communion of well-bred people—but a
gentle, obliging demeanor and delicacy of behavior towards all around; that mode
of conducting ourselves towards others which is opposed to what is coarse,
vulgar, crude, or offensively familiar. The politeness that I mean, is not
affection’s root, but it is its flower, beauty, and fragrance. Or if not the
plant itself, it is like the hedge around it, which preserves it from being
trampled under foot. In the family circle all the little acts that can give
pleasure or pain—all words, tones, and looks—should ever be considered and
weighed. Woman has perhaps more tact and discernment in reference to the minor
affairs of life than men. Her mental eye is more discerning, her touch more
delicate, her taste more refined, on all the matters of behavior. Let her
therefore keep this up in reference to her conduct at home.

"But we return to the more ordinary circumstances of young women, resident under
the parental roof, after having finished the term of their education—and observe
that their conduct should be marked by a soothing forbearance and tenderness
towards the infirmities of their parents. Deafness, lameness, dim-sightedness,
and other infirmities of old age, circumscribe their pleasures, and perhaps a
degree of fretfulness is sometimes observed. But a dutiful child will be fertile
in expedients to extend their pleasures, to alleviate their privations, and to
bear with and soothe their infirmities. The prompt eye will discern their needs,
and anticipate their wishes. The needle will be threaded before the eye aches
with endeavoring, and before the sigh is excited by inability to accomplish it;
or, by gentle and playful persuasion, the needle-work will be exchanged for
knitting or netting. The leg-rest or the footstool will be presented or
exchanged before complaint of uneasiness is uttered. The large-print Bible and
the spectacles will be placed at hand; the dim columns of the newspaper will be
read aloud; the enquiring eye will be answered by a repetition of the
conversation, or of the sacred address, which uttered by a stranger’s voice, had
passed over the dull ear—and in the most exalted sense, the benevolent pleasure
will be enjoyed of being eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, ears to the deaf,
and causing the trembling heart to sing for joy." (From "Female Excellence,"
published by the Religious Tract Society.)

I now return to the idea with which we started, that the right conduct of a
daughter at home, is to study to make home happy. There is a fascination in the
very expression, a happy home. And so far as what may be called the poetry of
home scenes is concerned, is there a lovelier flower to be found in that garden
of unearthly delights, that paradise of sweets, than a good daughter and
affectionate sister, adorning her maiden charms with the virtues that befit her
sex, her age, and her relationships—and elevating and sanctifying all her other
excellences by a saintly piety, which makes her lovely in the eyes of God by all
the beauties of holiness? Her father’s pride, her mother’s comfort, and her
brother’s companion—she is the ministering angel of them all. How much of bliss,
does this one dear object of their common affection, throw over them all! Her
absence is mourned as a common loss, and her return to the family circle is
hailed as the restoration of a suspended enjoyment. When this lovely one is
loved by another not belonging to the family, though about, through her, to be
united with it, with what a treasure, at their expense, is he about to enrich
his own home! Their hearts, at the thought of parting from her, bleed from
wounds which nothing but the hope of her happiness could heal. Her removal
leaves a blank, which, as they look upon her vacant seat, calls up
recollections, and produces a sense of deprivation, which even the sight of her
happiness can scarcely dispel. But as woman’s mission is to make happy her
husband’s home, suppose her gone forth to fulfill it. Well has she been trained,
and well has she trained herself also, at her parental home, for this home of
her own, and all the united excellences of the good daughter and the good sister
now develop and blend in the more mature and matronly virtues of the good wife,
mother, and domestic manager—and she who as the young woman at home, contributed
so largely to the felicity of one family circle, has just prepared herself to
contribute still more largely to the felicity of another, and that other is her
own. Behold, my young friends, your pattern. May the imitation of it be your
study, your prayer, your bliss!


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  CHAPTER 81: 06.07.     LIFE AWAY FROM HOME
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LIFE AWAY FROM HOME "Behold, I am with you, and will keep you in all places
where you go." Genesis 28:15 "In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall
direct your paths." Proverbs 3:6 "You shall guide me with your counsel, and
afterwards receive me to glory." Psalms 73:24 The hour of separation from
parental society, home enjoyments, and the scenes of early history, is in most
cases, and ought to be in all—a season of pensive grief. No affectionate
daughter can leave the house of her father, and go from beneath the covering
wing of maternal love, without passing over "the bridge of sighs." Even the joys
of the bridal morning, when she leaves the arms of her hitherto nearest
relations, for those of one now still nearer, do not prevent her from looking
round with something of instinctive regret on the scenes she is leaving, now no
longer hers; and amid the smiles of the happy bride, are seen falling the tears
of the loving child, like dewdrops sparkling in sunbeams. It would augur ill for
the husband, if his wife could part from her parents, even for him, without a
momentary pang. It is one of nature’s loveliest sights to see in that scene and
season of delight, filial piety blending its luster with marital affection, and
investing even nuptial charms with new and captivating beauty. But I now speak
of a different kind and purpose of separation from home. I contemplate the young
woman, not led out by that right hand, the "cunning" of which is to be employed
for her support; nor going away, leaning upon that arm which is to be
continually stretched over her for protection—but departing solitarily and
mournfully on the journey of life, to meet alone its dangers, cares, and toils.
It is sad enough to see a young man leaving his father’s house, and leaving home
to earn his daily bread by the sweat of his brow; how much more to see a young
female thus going forth to seek her own support. What is she but a lamb
venturing out into the wilderness where wolves abound; or a young dove leaving
its nest to fly abroad amid eagles and vultures! How many in the progress of
life, and amid its changes, some of which are so melancholy, look back to the
hour of separation and exclaim, "O my mother, how sad and certain presages of
what awaited me were those bitter tears I shed on that morning when I tore
myself from your embrace! My heart then sunk, and the sun of my life then set
never to rise. Every step since then of my dark journey has been one of
sorrow—and every change only of one calamity for another." In some cases
separation from home is rendered necessary by a change in domestic
circumstances, and she who was brought up tenderly amid the luxuries, and with
the prospects, of opulence, is now compelled to leave scenes where she was a
stranger to toil and care—to earn her own support. It is a sight to be looked
upon with admiration, to behold a young woman in such circumstances, instead of
hanging upon parents no longer able to support her, without additional
privations for themselves, nobly resolving to relieve them of the burden, and
instead of sitting down in despairing grief and helpless sorrow, bracing her
mind to meet the privations of her altered condition, descending gracefully to a
lower level, and going forth with true magnanimity, inspired by religion, to
tread life’s stormy way alone. No morbid sense of degradation; no feeling of
false shame arising from altered circumstances—no haughty sense of humiliation
connected with a situation of subordination and dependence—benumbs her
faculties, paralyzes her energies, or renders the duties of her new situation
irksome and oppressive—but remembering it is the will of Providence, and
thankful for her health, her abilities, and her opportunities to take care of
herself, she goes to her new sphere without dread, despondency, or reluctance.

Others meet with no such reverse, but are brought up amid circumstances which
have always kept before them the probability that they must go out into the
world to support themselves. In these cases, the charge comes not upon them by a
surprise, and if they are wise they will endeavor to prepare their hearts and
qualify their minds for it. A judicious mother’s energies and vigilance will
ever be employed, not only in helping her daughters, but in teaching them to
help themselves. Wherever there is a probability of their leaving home, and even
when there is not, her concern, considering the vicissitudes of human life,
should be directed to the point of qualifying them to become self-supporting.
And it should be a point of ambition with every young woman, whose parents can
with difficulty support their family, not to be a burden to them, but to provide
for herself in some honorable and useful occupation.

It is a very beautiful scene to witness a young female, not only supporting
herself, but endeavoring by the produce of her diligence, and the savings of her
frugality, to minister to the comfort of her aged, infirm, or impoverished
parents. Many a heroine has left home, and endured privations neither few nor
small, for this purpose. All her discomfort and labor were endured with
patience, under the idea that by this means she was rendering the home of her
beloved parents more happy.

Here, however, a caution is necessary against a too great eagerness to get away
from home. A large family, where there is a straitened income, brings many cares
and some privations, not only upon the mother, but upon the elder daughters. In
such a case, for a young woman who can be of essential service to her mother,
and whom her mother wishes to retain, to determine or even wish to go out into
the world, and leave her mother to struggle and almost faint under the load—is a
deplorable lack of filial piety. It is delightful to hear a daughter say,
"Anywhere, or in any circumstances, abroad or at home, in single or in wedded
life—my beloved and honored parents, I am ready and eager to serve you."

There is another and melancholy occasion which not infrequently occurs, for a
young woman’s leaving home, and that is when home itself is broken up by the
death of both parents. How frequently does this happen! Ah, how often are
families invaded by the ’last enemy’, and scattered here and there by his
desolating ravages! The grave covers both father and mother. The dear domestic
hearth is forsaken. The family gatherings at prayer, at meals, at festive
seasons, are over—and the house of your childhood and youth is deserted. Poor
orphans, I pity you; especially, you orphan girls, my heart bleeds for you. Your
brothers can provide for themselves better than you can. But even you have no
need to despond. Painful I know it is, to have no parent, no home, no settled
place of abode. Often in your forlorn situation, you must and do say, "Alas for
me! I am alone in the world. David’s expression suits my case. I am like a
pelican in the wilderness; or like a sparrow alone upon the house-top. Other
young people, though away from home, have a home to think and talk about—and
parents to write to, and occasionally to visit. I have none. I have not a house
to dwell in except that which I may soon be required to leave, nor have I any
friends, except those whom my own good conduct may secure. My heart is often
more desolate than my condition; and though I am in the midst of society, I feel
as if I were alone in this great and busy world." But I remind you there is the
orphan’s unfailing friend still left. God lives, and he is the father of the
fatherless. Be it yours, and it may be yours, to say, "When my father and my
mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up." Should you be so wise and happy as
to become truly pious, you will never be without a friend, and in the absence of
an earthly father, will have an omnipotent one in heaven. You may then set out
in life, and go through it, adopting as your motto, the reply of Abraham to
Isaac, who, when the latter said, "Behold the fire and the wood, but where is
the lamb for a burnt offering?" replied, "God will provide." Be that your motto,
"God will provide." Fear God, and you may without scruple and with confidence
adopt this assurance.

Permit me now to suggest some topics which apply alike to all these different
cases, and which it is important you should dwell upon, either in prospect of
leaving home—or after you have left it. Consider it is in the order of
Providence you should be thus situated. Your lot is fixed in heaven. It is God’s
will—and not chance. Is there nothing consolatory in this? Consider his wisdom,
power, and goodness. He does all things well. He knows what is best for you. He
may, in ways which you cannot imagine, be consulting your future and permanent
good. You cannot see the end. When this is revealed, you may be compelled to
exclaim, "He leads the blind by a way that they know not, and leads them in
paths that they have not known. He makes darkness light before them, and crooked
things straight." Submit, therefore, without envying others, and without
murmuring. Would you contravene his purpose? Say, "It is the Lord, let him do
what seems good in his sight. I am where he would have me be." But remember,
there are not only privations to be endured away from home, but moral dangers
also to be encountered. If these are not so pressing in your case as in that of
your brothers, there are some perils even in yours. Happily for you, the guards
of female decorum, propriety, and reputation—are stronger and stricter than
those of the other sex. But they have proved too weak for absolute security in
thousands of instances. Multitudes who have stood well at home—have unhappily
fallen, when removed from it. Eve was tempted when alone, and away from the
protection of her husband. Alas, how many have gone away to sin, and have
returned to hide their shame. A mother’s watchful eye is no longer upon you; a
father’s arm is no longer stretched over you—and the shelter of home no longer
protects you. Others know this as well as you, and may take advantage of it. And
even if there were no moral dangers—is there no danger of imprudence, folly,
levity? No danger of bad connections, improper acquaintance, ill-contracted
marriages? None of undue love of pleasure and vanity? Are not the prevailing
faults and defects of some women to be found in vanity, love of dress,
disposition to court attention and admiration, fickleness, inconsiderateness,
love of novelty, lack of judgment, and curiosity? And are not all these likely
to increase rather than diminish, when they are away from the checks which home
supplies? Are not these weeds likely to grow faster, and to attain greater
strength, when there is no mother’s eye to see them, no mother’s hand to pluck
them up?

All this danger is greatly heightened in the case of those who have personal or
mental accomplishments. A beautiful young woman, withdrawn from the fostering
care and ceaseless vigilance of a judicious mother, and exposed abroad to the
crude and licentious gaze of the world, is ever an object of alarm to her
family—and it were well if she were so to herself. It is perhaps a rare case for
such a female to be ignorant of her charms; it is rarer still for her to be more
afraid than vain of them, and to be more anxious that they should not lead her
into danger, than that they should secure for her admiration. The great source
of consolation and protection to a young woman from home is true religion. It is
very easy for any one, to conceive of the privations and discomfort of many a
young person, on leaving the comforts of a happy home to sustain the character
of a governess, a shop-woman or a servant. The cold, proud, and perhaps in some
cases cruel, treatment of employers—as contrasted with the affectionate conduct
of parents; the annoying and unfeeling peculiarities of companions in the
house—as contrasted with the sympathizing and loving behavior of their brothers
and sisters; the disregard of their comfort, in all that concerns their food,
lodging, and general personal convenience—as contrasted with all the
accommodations and enjoyments of their father’s house; and the general
inattention and neglect of the strangers among whom they dwell—as contrasted
with the recognition and kind notice of a wide circle of friends in their own
native place. This, all this, is bitter indeed.

Some hard and unfeeling natures, or mirthful and frivolous ones, may be
insensible to these things; but oh, that poor girl of softer mold, whose heart
was made for home scenes, and whose bliss was derived from home enjoyments;
under all this, her heart is sometimes ready to burst! What thoughts disturb her
peace, like visions of bliss lighting on her gloomy and sorrowful path, and then
instantly vanishing, only to leave the path still more gloomy, and the darkness
still more oppressive! What letters, wet with her tears, she writes to her own
sweet home, and to her sympathizing parents!

What is to comfort her now? Only the balmy influence of religion—the
consciousness that she is in the way of duty—and the testimony of her conscience
that she is discharging her obligations with scrupulous fidelity. This can and
this will do it. She whose heart is renewed by Divine grace; who has genuine
faith in our Lord Jesus Christ; who walks with God as her divine, unchangeable,
omnipotent Friend, and communes with him as her Heavenly Father; whose
affections are set on things above; and who considers life as a probation for
eternity—she will find in such a state of mind—a source of consolation—a means
of endurance—an element of happiness—which will counterbalance all discomfort,
disquietude, and distress. With true dignity she will bow to the will of God,
and consider her situation as his appointment. She will find satisfaction in
submission. Her religion will impart much patience, and something of
cheerfulness—it will control her disposition, and throw an air of loveliness
over her character, which will give her an interest in the heart of her
employer. She will always find companions in her Bible and other good books—in
her closet of devotion and in communion with God, a sweet retreat from the
coldness and unkindness of her fellow-creatures; and in meditation upon the
everlasting rest above, a blessed substitute for the comforts of the home she
has left on earth. Faith in God, in Christ, in Providence, in heaven—can
comfort, has comforted, and will comfort in the dreariest situations of life,
and in the bitterest agonies of death.

I am anxious all should set out in life with this lofty idea of true piety—that
it can sweeten the bitterest cup of human woe—can soften the hardest lot—and can
be a substitute for all other pleasures. It must be so; for it made Adam happy
in paradise, and makes saints and angels happy in heaven. It has lighted, as
with a lamp kindled in heaven, the confessor’s dungeon, has sustained the
Christian fugitive in his exile, and has enabled the martyrs to endure even the
agonies of the stake.

Adopt religion, then, young women, as your companion, for it will not only
comfort you, but also protect you. Yes, it will be a shield for your defense, as
well as a cup of consolation amid your sorrows. Expect temptations, for you will
certainly have them in one way or other. You cannot imagine in what shape or
from what quarter they will come. It may be in a form so fascinating, so
plausible, so unsuspected, so insidious, as to contain all the "deceivableness
of unrighteousness." Do not imagine that Satan respects female virtue too much
to assail it. Did he thus respect the holiness of Eve in the garden of Eden?
Does he reverence any character or any virtue; did he not tempt our Lord? The
more spotless the character, and the more eminent the excellence—the more
intense is his hatred—the more malignant his envy—and the more eager his desire
to despoil it! Has he not tempted to their ruin, multitudes as pure as you are?
Against such a foe, whom all but infinite cunning makes skillful, and boundless
success makes bold—consider you are safe only under the protection of
Omnipotence—and that protection can be obtained only by faith and prayer. Of
those millions of instances of female immorality, which the history of your sex
has presented, not one would have occurred, if they had trusted their virtue to
the keeping of true godliness. It is religion that will repel the fiercest
assault with the holy and indignant remonstrance, "How shall I do this great
wickedness, and sin against God."

It is not only however from such dangers as these, dangers affecting moral
character in its most important features, that religion will protect you; but
from the lesser ones also, which, if they do not lead to open vice, are still
injurious. True religion will moderate your love of pleasure by furnishing
pleasures of its own. It will check your vanity and folly, by producing a devout
seriousness and sobriety of mind—without at all destroying your natural and
innocent vivacity. It will remove your thoughtlessness, and make you
contemplative and reflective, without stiffening you into formality, or
investing you with gloom. It will induce habits of precaution, and frugality,
and thus guard you from present imprudence and recklessness, and future
improvidence and extravagance. Do not then venture out into the world
unprotected by this spirit as your guardian angel.

There are one or two other cautions which it may be of importance you should
receive and remember. You should never allow yourselves for a moment to imagine
there is anything dishonorable or degrading in your being compelled to leave
home and to support yourself, either as governess, shop-woman, or servant. Those
who have been in better circumstances are of course most apt to feel this. And
no doubt it is a descent, a lower status, according to the conventionalities of
human life—but it is no dishonor. It is from misconduct, and not from
misfortune; from loss of character, and not from loss of rank—that disgrace
arises. Nobility of soul is often associated with financial descent; while
vulgarity of character is sometimes covered with the coronet or the crown. A
virtuous, holy, and intelligent young female has, in the heraldry of heaven, a
patent of nobility, and is one of God’s nobility in her own right. ’Honest
industry’ is far more honorable than ’wealthy indolence’; and she who willingly,
honestly, and cheerfully earns her own support, when Providence has deprived her
of her patrimony, is far more to be admired than she would have been, had she
throughout life rolled in her father’s equipage, and been surrounded by every
luxury.

Akin to this is another state of mind against which you should most sedulously
guard, and that is a conviction that you must be miserable away from home. It is
conceded that you cannot be as happy away from home, as you would be at home. It
is not right you should be. There can be no perfect substitute for a united and
happy family circle. But when called by Providence to surrender it, give it up
with submission and fortitude, and yield to the privation with true magnanimity.
Let it be said of you on leaving, as is said by Milton of Eve on her departure
from Paradise, "Some natural tears she dropped, but wiped them soon."

Weep you may, and you ought, at giving up the dear delights you have enjoyed
from childhood in your father’s house; and you cannot but sometimes feel pensive
at recollecting the friends from whom you have been separated. But to allow your
love of home to make absence from it intolerable wretchedness; to render you
moody and melancholy, discontented and ill-tempered; to unfit you for business,
and make you unpleasant to your employer and companions—exhibits a weak mind, a
feeble heart, and a sickly character. Rise above this! If Providence calls you
away from home, bear it with composure. Go out expecting to meet with
privations, and make up your mind to endure them with fortitude. Make the best
of your situation. Doom not yourself to misery on this account. You may be happy
anywhere—with religion, good disposition, submission to your lot, and
usefulness. If you determine to find out such pleasures as your present
situation affords, instead of always looking back upon that which you have left;
if you resolve, by God’s grace, to please and be pleased; if you give up your
mind to piety, industry, and usefulness—you will find that felicity is a flower
that blooms, and a fruit that grows, away from home as well as at home. A
cheerful spirit, like a lamp lighting any darkness into which it may be
carried—lessens the discomfort of any situation, recommends you to your
employer, and promotes your interest as well as your happiness.

Perhaps it may not be amiss to say a few things on the choice of a residence, as
it appertains to your parents, where they are living—as well as to yourselves.
Let the subject be made the matter of earnest and believing prayer to God. "In
all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths." "Commit your way
to him, and he shall bring it to pass." These are precious declarations, and
they are sustained by promises no less precious. "The meek will he guide in
judgment, and the meek will he teach his way." "I will instruct you, and teach
you in the way which you shall go—I will guide you with my eye." With such
exhortations and assurances, what should be your resolution? "You shall guide me
with your counsel." There is Providence in everything. Even your most minute
affairs are under Divine direction. Your times are in his hand. Do not doubt it.
Hold fast the truth that God hears your prayer, casts your lot, and fixes the
bounds of your habitation. Pray, pray earnestly, believingly, and expectantly.
All situations and all hearts are at his disposal. In selecting, accepting, and
retaining a residence, consult its religious advantages. In these are included
such means of pulpit religious instruction as are likely to build up a young
disciple on her holy faith, and to quicken into activity the principles of
godliness planted in her soul by the Spirit of God. It is not ordinarily
desirable, where a selection can be made, to choose a residence where even the
minor matters of the sacraments and church government differ from those to which
you have been accustomed. This exposes you, if not to a change of sentiment, yet
to antagonism and perplexity, which are unfavorable to the quiet enjoyment of
your own personal religion, and may do you injury by producing a spirit of
controversy. Where the differences of opinion are of a more serious kind,
affecting even the fundamental doctrines of the gospel—no pious young person
should expose herself to any hazard of this kind.

I will now address a few special counsels and cautions to two or three classes
of those who are in the circumstances contemplated by this discourse.

Many are occupied in the very important and responsible duties of a resident
governess. This is a situation of delicacy, difficulty, and momentous
consequence; and requires much wisdom, prudence, and conscientiousness. There
are many parties concerned, all of whose interests and comfort should and must
be consulted. You who are in this situation owe something to yourself. Those who
have hired you, will be most likely to pay you the respect due to you when they
see you respecting yourself. If they so far confide in you as to entrust you
with the education of their children, they ought to treat you in such a manner
as to teach them also to confide in you and esteem you. But this will depend
much upon your own conduct and bearing. Let them be duly aware that you expect
all that is your due in the way of kind and respectful conduct, but that you
expect no more. Any apprehension on their part that your demands in this respect
are too high, or are preferred in an obtrusive and exacting spirit, will be sure
to set them on their guard against you as a person of encroaching disposition,
and will dispose them to yield you less than you are entitled to. A kind,
attentive, respectful, and dignified bearing towards them, as far from servility
on the one hand, as it is from familiarity on the other, as well as a right
behavior towards their children, will in most cases accomplish all you wish. If
you have taken your present situation, after coming down in life, let there be
no such sense of degradation and mortified pride, no such loftiness as will make
you gloomy, dissatisfied, unhappy, and repulsive.

Even should it appear that you have exchanged places with your employers, that
they once were in the situation of inferiority which you now occupy, give no
evidence that you are aware of it, and take no notice of little ebullitions of
vulgarity, or even purse-proud insolence, not uncommon to those who have risen
in life. If sometimes you cannot be insensible to this, and you feel your spirit
rising within you, and your cheek growing flushed and warm, so that your
mortification cannot be concealed, call in religion to your aid; comfort
yourself in God; and exemplify the Christian in a spirit of meek forbearance. In
such circumstances, many a tearful look will be thrown back by memory on that
home from which you have been driven by misfortune, or rather by Providence, and
you will need to retire to calm your perturbation and repress your indignation.
In such cases, go and by prayer invite the hand of your Heavenly Father to wipe
your weeping eyes, and compose your ruffled spirit and agitated heart.

Then there are the CHILDREN entrusted to your care for their education. Enter
upon your task with a deep and solemn sense of responsibility to them, to their
parents, and to God. Abhor the baseness, injustice, and cruelty, of being
satisfied with any manner of discharging your duty, so that you get your board
and salary, and respectful treatment. The future character and comfort, for both
worlds, of those girls, depend much upon you. They have been placed in your
hands, and look up to you as their instructress and teacher. As you would give
in your account at last to God with joy and not with grief, do your very
uttermost; tax your energies to do them and their parents justice, in
instructing their minds, forming their characters, and fitting them for the
station they are to occupy in life. Prepare yourself for your task by constant
reading and study. Do not be satisfied with your present qualifications. The
education of a rational and immortal creature, for this world and the next—is a
great work. Improve your own mind, to be better fitted to improve theirs. Win
their confidence by your ability; their affection by your kindness; their
respect by your dignity; and their industry by your own diligence. Let your aim
be, not only to communicate knowledge—but wisdom; not only to store the
memory—but to strengthen the judgment, to nerve the will, and to make the
conscience tender; not only to teach them to think correctly—but to act with
propriety, discretion, and promptness, in any situation in which they may be
placed. As regards religion, that of course must depend much upon the views of
the parents. If they are similar to your own, and you have unrestricted liberty
on this point, labor to the uttermost to form the religious character of your
youthful charge. Ever consider the education of an immortal being incomplete
without instruction in that which alone can fit her for immortality. But never
act the part of a secret zealot, by inculcating principles opposed to those of
the parents. I should say to a Christian young woman—go into no situation where
you are not allowed to teach what you consider to be the truth as it is in
Jesus. Do not conceal your sentiments—and afterwards teach them secretly and
stealthily. You would abhor such conduct in a Romanist—do not be guilty of it
yourself. Of course you should not, and cannot conscientiously teach what you
believe to be error; therefore do not go where you would be required to do so.

Then come the PARENTS to be considered by you. Of course you will do everything
you can to uphold their authority, even as they ought to do their uttermost to
uphold yours. You should also most assiduously labor to secure the affections of
their children for them, rather than for yourself. It would be treachery of the
basest kind to steal away the hearts of their children. Your aim should be to
secure the love of the children to you, for their parents’ sake, as well as your
own; and then their love to their parents, for your own sake as well as theirs.

There is another thing to be observed, and one which I shall touch upon with the
delicacy it demands; and that is the fact, that a wife has sometimes been made
uncomfortable by the presence of a governess. Jealousy, it is true, is sometimes
in this case suspicious without reason. But are there no cases in which such
uneasiness is not entirely the result of an over-sensitive and morbid
imagination? Respect your own character and dignity, the wife’s peace and the
husband’s honor, too much ever to seek or accept attentions which, from him,
even though playful and innocent, may excite uneasiness in that one bosom, the
tranquility of which is so easily disturbed by any act of his. Conduct yourself
so as to be not without blame—but without suspicion.

Apart from this, do nothing by becoming the depository of secrets, hearing
tales, or uttering insinuations, to loosen the bonds, or violate the affection,
of the husband and wife, or to disturb the peace of the family. If unhappily, a
difference should exist, keep yourself as much as possible out of the way of
witnessing it, or let your wisest and kindest offices be exerted to heal the
breach. Win for yourselves the blessing which will come upon the peacemaker, and
cause the family to bless the hour which made you a member of their household.
Recollect you are bound in honor never to make the transactions or condition of
the family, a matter of conversation with others. Without being actually sworn
or even pledged to secrecy, you are solemnly bound to observe it; you are a
traitress to the family which has received you as an inhabitant, if you make
their affairs known to others. Never intermeddle with the servants, and
especially avoid all unnecessary familiarity with them. Keep to your own sphere,
and diligently discharge your own duties. You will find sufficient scope there
for all your time, your energies, and your anxiety. To maintain a course of
conduct, seek by prayer the grace and wisdom which come from on high, and under
all the trials of your situation, whether the waywardness of the children, or
the ingratitude, pride, or petulance of the parents—seek the comfort which comes
from the Father of mercies, and the God of all consolation.

Governesses in a school are a class of young women, who, though acting under the
direction and supervision of another, and therefore with less responsibility
than those who reside in a family—have to discharge very important duties, for
which high qualifications, both intellectual and moral, are essential.

I next consider the case of those young people who are employed in retail shops,
and they form a very large class. Their situation is often one of far greater
discomfort and moral danger than that of the class just mentioned. In addition
to the oppressive and exhausting labor which modern competition imposes upon
them, in common with all who are engaged in trade, they have to bear in some
cases the unkindness of their employers, who are not infrequently deplorably
lacking in regard to the comfort of those whom they have received into their
service—as to their food, lodging, and general treatment. A surly master and his
unfeeling wife, intent only upon what they can get out of the flesh, bone, and
muscle of their servants, and caring little for their welfare—never satisfied
with even the most exemplary diligence and competent ability, and therefore ever
urging to greater labor, and ever uttering the language of complaint—always
suspicious, even where there is no ground for it, of the honesty of their
servants—such are the trials which some of these hapless young people have to
bear. In such a case, you who have to endure it, need comfort. The recollections
of home, where all was kindness, happiness, and confidence—embitter, by the
power of contrast, the ills you have to sustain. Bear all with as much patience
as you can command. Seek consolation in true piety. Carry your sorrows to God by
prayer. When the bitter contrast between your position when at home and your
present situation from home forces itself upon your thoughts, and sends a tear
to your eye and a pang to your heart, go to Him whose gracious presence is ever
with you, and whose infinite love is ever ready for you. But it is not thus with
all shopkeepers. I am not describing the class, but only some of its members;
the exceptions, rather than the rule. I know heads of retail establishments,
employing a large number of young people, who cherish for them something of the
feelings of parents, and regard them almost in the light of children—nor is it
their temporal comfort exclusively, but also their spiritual welfare, which is
the object of their solicitude. And this is obviously the incumbent duty of
employers.

Whether your employers be generous and kind, or neglectful and oppressive—do
your duty—and seek to possess all the qualifications which will commend you to
their esteem. DILIGENCE is indispensable. It is the first excellence of one in
your situation. Be anxious to please, and as earnest to serve your employer as
if the business were your own. No one will or can employ an indolent servant. Be
an early riser. Comply with all the rules of the shop. Aim at excellence. Seek
to be bright and alert. Cultivate an attractive, winning, and even polite
address. Be an intelligent shop-woman.

Especially let your HONESTY be above suspicion. Deem it no insult or reproach
that I caution you on this subject. You are exposed to temptation. Money in
small sums is continually passing through your hands, your salary is low, and
through the deceitfulness of the heart you may dwell on the injustice of your
small earnings, until you imagine it lawful to pay yourself, and make up what
you should in justice receive. Resist every temptation of this kind. Rather
starve and die, than appropriate to your own use an article of clothing or
decoration, or a farthing of money belonging to your employer. As a guard upon
your integrity, and a check to temptation, avoid expense in dress and ornament.
Vanity is insatiable, and has led more people into dishonesty than any other
passion. A taste for finery fostered and indulged, with a salary too small to
yield the means of its gratification, has in innumerable instances led to acts
of pilfering to supply the deficiency. In some establishments, young people of
both sexes are employed. Where this is the case it brings new perils, and
requires additional caution. Your honor, your respectability, your safety,
require that you should be most anxiously upon your guard. How earnestly, as
well as sincerely, should you present those beautiful petitions of our Lord’s
prayer, "Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil." Avoid all undue
familiarity, all flippant and trifling conduct, all jocularity, with the young
men employed in the same establishment. Maintain a proper self-respect, a
befitting reserve, and a dignified bearing; they will be a fence round your
character, and prevent even the approach of anything that would insult your
purity, or offend the most fastidious modesty.

You have need to be upon your guard against the influence of companions even of
your own sex. In large and even in moderate establishments many young women are
associated together, without in some cases, any matronly superintendent being
placed over them, and with almost unrestricted opportunities for free
conversation and general interaction. It is no severe reflection on the sex to
suppose that in such a number of young people, there may be some who have no
personal religion, whose sense of female decorum and propriety is not the most
delicate, and who, without being immoral, are still so given to levity, vanity,
and romance—as to exert an unfavorable influence over the rest. Be upon your
guard against influence of this kind.

Gain all the good you can, from those who are your associates—but avoid all the
evil. Be good tempered, accommodating, amiable, and conciliatory—but set
yourself against all that is improper. Be an example of all that is good—and
then you may be a reprover of all that is evil. Let there be no affected
superiority; nothing like, "Stand aside—I am holier than you." But demonstrate
all the consistency, gentleness and sweetness of unaffected goodness, of true
piety, and good conduct—and then you may be a blessing to those around you. Be
especially careful in the selection of a particular friend from the rest of your
companions. Be not led away by specious appearances, nor induced to commit
yourself by professions of friendship on the part of another, or by the first
feelings of preference on your own. But take time to ascertain the correctness
of her principles, the consistency of her conduct, and the respectability of her
family—otherwise you may be led into snares and dangers which you very little
anticipate. For your conduct towards your employers, if a master, I refer you to
what I have said to the Governess. Instances have occurred within my knowledge
to prove that cautions on this head are not altogether unnecessary. An evil eye
has sometimes lighted on an unsuspecting female, and men bound by every tie of
honor, and by their solemn vow to a wife, have been despicable enough to assail,
and in some instances to destroy, the purity, the honor, and the peace, of those
whom they were bound in duty to protect. Spurn then with disdain and indignation
any such attempts, receive no special attentions, and quit the service of the
wretch whom you suspect of a design against that which ought to be dearer to you
a thousand times over, than even life itself.

Female servants are a most important and a very numerous class of young women
away from home, and often a very destitute and much exposed one. Their case
however is so needful of enlarged counsel and caution that I inserted in the
"Family Monitor" a chapter to meet it, and reprinted it separately as a tract.

I shall now conclude this chapter by some few general remarks, which will apply
alike to all classes of those who are away from home.

Again and again I say, commit yourselves by true faith in Christ into the hands
of God for protection and consolation. How many beautiful passages and examples
of holy Scripture, in addition to those already quoted, could be adduced, which
apply with peculiar force to your case. Look at poor Hagar, who was much to be
pitied as well as much to be blamed, alone in the wilderness, "when the angel of
the Lord found her by the fountain of water, and she called the name of the Lord
that spoke unto her—God, You see me." If, when God found her there,
notwithstanding some past misconduct and self-reproach, she comforted herself in
that desolate place with the consideration that she was compassed about with the
presence of the Lord; with how much greater confidence and peace may you cheer
your heart with the thought of an ever-present God, you who have not been driven
out as she was by misconduct from your home, but have been led out from it by
Providence.

Yes, God is in every place, he is with you, "he encompasses your path, he knows
your down-sitting and up-rising, and is acquainted with all your ways." You have
left your earthly father, but your heavenly one is with you. You are far from
your earthly home, but if you are a Christian, you are as near as ever to your
heavenly one. The eyes that lately beamed affection upon you, do not see you
now, and you do not see them; but lifting your voice to God, you can say, "God,
You see me!" His eye is upon you, his heart yearns over you, his arms are
underneath you.

Also, what promises are on record for you. Do you fear the lack of adequate
provision? "Trust in the Lord, and do good—so shall you dwell in the land, and
verily you shall be fed." Do you need protection? "He who dwells in the secret
place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. He shall
cover you with his feathers, and under his wings shall you trust; his truth
shall be your defense and shield." Do you need direction? "Your ears shall hear
a voice behind you, saying—This is the way, walk in it." Do you dread the
forlorn circumstances that await you away from home? "None who trust in him
shall be desolate." Are you trembling with apprehension at the absence of all
who were dear to you, and the unknown difficulties of your new situation on
earth? "Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God! I will
strengthen you; yes, I will help you! Yes, I will uphold you with the right hand
of my righteousness." "My presence shall go with you and give you rest." Do you
ever dread the idea of being forgotten by the friends you are leaving? "Can a
woman forget her nursing child, that she should not have compassion on the son
of her womb? yes she may forget, yet will I not forget you." "I will never leave
you, nor forsake you." Can anything be more consolatory than such assurances?

Need you be afraid to leave home and go out into the world with such promises?
What, when omnipotence, omnipresence, omniscience, all-sufficiency, and
boundless love, go with you? Why, with such assurances you may leave, not only
your father’s home to dwell in any other part of this land of railways and easy
and speedy methods of conveyance; but may embark on board an emigrant ship,
leave your native country for the opposite ends of the earth—and exultingly
exclaim, "If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of
the sea, even there shall Your hand lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me."
But then to apply the truth and feel the comfort of these precious assurances,
you must have that genuine faith which alone gives you a title to them. Personal
religion will, in all probability, procure you earthly friends wherever you go,
for it is the soil in which all those virtues grow that conciliate affection,
ensure respect, and invite confidence. God will go before you to prepare the way
for you, for when a man’s ways please the Lord, he makes "even his enemies to be
at peace with him." Remember how he gave Joseph favor in the eyes of the
governor of the prison—and how he turned the heart of Esau, brooding over
purposes of revenge, into brotherly endearment. The best way to get the
friendship of man is first to secure the friendship of God.

Connected with this, acquire in an eminent degree the general good qualities
which I have already alluded to. Add to piety—amiability of
disposition—kindliness of disposition—gentle, artless, and attractive manners.
Let there be a substratum of the solid gold of excellence, bearing at the same
time the polish of the pleasant virtues of life. Those who have to make their
way in the world must be attentive to external, and to what some may call,
little things. It is not enough to be holy and virtuous, or even to be conscious
that you are such—but you must also be attractive. You must aim to please. Real
excellence may sometimes be repulsive on account of eccentricities, acid
disposition, and blunt coarseness, with which it is associated. It is like
grapes amid nettles or thorns, which few will attempt to gather for fear of the
lacerations of the thorns.

There is a word of very difficult definition, but which, without being defined,
is perfectly understood, and very impressive, "She is an pleasant young woman."
This is a very common expression. Perhaps the best explanation of it is the
power of giving pleasure and engaging affection. This includes, I am aware, more
of nature than of art, and something of personal attraction. A manifest
intention to secure the favor of an individual is almost sure to defeat its own
end, and to inspire disgust. But the general good opinion of those among whom we
live, can in most cases be secured by attention to their wishes, and
consideration for their feelings. And surely it cannot be improper to ask, "How
can I interest others in my behalf?" And those who depend upon the interest they
create for themselves in the hearts of others, should study how to secure it.

Combine a due and tender recollection of home—with a noble fortitude in
surrendering its comforts. You are not required to forget your father’s house,
and your mother’s endearing society. You would be unnatural if you could. Indeed
you are in little danger of this. Forget my honored father! Forget my much loved
mother! Forget my brothers and sisters! Forget the sweet home of my childhood!
Oh no! Memory must perish before I can be guilty of such oblivion. I muse on you
all in my solitary walks. I give up many an hour’s sleep to think of home. I wet
my pillow with my tears, as I think of the years and joys that are gone, never
to return. I dream often that I am in the midst of you all, and wake to the sad
reality that I am away from home." But these are not the only thoughts you are
to cherish as to your home. Nor is the frequent and affectionate letter, so
welcome and so precious to those who love and think of you, the only way to send
comfort to your parents. Let there be the never-varying excellence of character
and conduct, the uniform good behavior, the growing usefulness, which on their
knowing of them, shall comfort their hearts. Avoid that fickleness which would
make you soon tired of an employment. Let no unsuitable friendship of a tender
nature, which they would not approve, be formed. Let no conduct, which if they
knew it, would distress them, be carried on by you. They have lost the comfort
of your companionship—add not to the affliction by causing them to lose the
comfort of your character!

Let your situation in a social point of view, remind you of your circumstances
in a religious one. If you are a true Christian, what are you here upon
earth—but a child away from home? Yes—heaven, and not earth, is the home of the
believer. How simply and sublimely beautiful is the language of our Lord—"In my
Father’s house are many mansions—if it were not so, I would have told you. I go
to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come
again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there you may be also."
Delightful idea! Heaven is the home of the Christian, which the Savior has
prepared and made ready for him. There, is God the Judge of all—the Father, of
whom the whole family is named. There, is Jesus the Mediator of the New
Covenant, who calls himself the First-born, the Elder Brother. There, are the
spirits of the just made perfect, the brothers and sisters. There, is the
innumerable company of the angels, the ministering spirits now sent forth to
minister unto the heirs of salvation. What a glorious household assembled in the
third heavens—the eternal home of the Redeeming God, the Great Redeemer, and the
redeemed family!

There you are going—if you are a true believer! All the dispensations of
Providence and all the means of grace are preparing you for that state. All
things, and among them your present situation, with all its disquiet and
discomfort, are working together for your good. You are away from home here—that
you may be at home there. Let this cheer and comfort you. When distressed by
looking back upon the home you have left—comfort yourself by looking on to that
to which you are going. Heaven, glory, eternity—are before you! You are
educating for your Father’s house; preparing to go in and dwell forever in his
presence. Half a century hence at most, and in perhaps a much shorter time than
that, it will be of no consequence to you whether you passed through life
agreeably or not. The only thing about which you should be supremely concerned
is, not to be shut out from the heavenly home—not to be excluded by sin,
impenitence, and unbelief—from the mansions which Christ has gone to prepare. In
the blessed hope of reaching that state, you might endure, not only with
fortitude but with comfort—all the trials of a young woman away from home,
though they were ten times greater than they are!


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  CHAPTER 82: 06.08.     THE CHARACTER OF REBEKAH
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THE CHARACTER OF REBEKAH

"Before I had finished praying these words, I saw Rebekah coming along with her
water jug on her shoulder. She went down to the spring and drew water and filled
the jug. So I said to her, ’Please give me a drink.’ She quickly lowered the jug
from her shoulder so I could drink, and she said, ’Certainly, sir, and I will
water your camels, too!’" Genesis 24:45-46

Every one must be struck, I would think, with the narratives in the book of
Genesis, and their correspondence to the state of society to which they relate.
Their realistic descriptions guarantees their truthfulness, and explains their
peculiarity. We find all that charming simplicity which is in keeping with the
primitive life of the people referred to; together with all the defects in their
conduct, which their imperfect knowledge might be expected to bring with it.
Another kind of narrative, more in conformity with the advance and artificial
refinement of modern society, would excite suspicion of the truthfulness of the
story. Where shall we find in all the range of fiction anything so exquisite as
the history of Joseph; or even as the beautiful story which furnishes the
example to be contemplated in this chapter? I invite those endowed with taste to
the perusal of this portion of Holy Writ. True, it relates rather to the history
of a family than of a nation. And it is worthy of remark, that the Spirit of God
preserved in the inspired chronicles this little gem of historic narrative,
rather than the record of anything going on at that time among the great
kingdoms of antiquity, not excepting Egypt, the birthplace and cradle of
science. The secular historian delights to emblazon his page with the conflicts
of empires, the exploits of heroes, and the prowess of armies—but what is the
influence of such records upon the moral habits, social happiness, and
individual character of mankind—compared with that of the story of the holy
courtship of Isaac and Rebekah?

Sarah, the beloved and faithful wife of Abraham, had died, and been laid in the
cave of Machpelah. Sadness and desolation were reigning in the patriarch’s
household. His tent was empty; the grief of Isaac, who loved his mother most
tenderly, was unsoothed; and upon him the heart of the venerable widower was now
turned with more concentrated affection. Isaac, the miraculous child of promise,
though forty years of age, was unmarried. The holy patriarch, amid much domestic
distress—the consequence of polygamy—had known the happiness of possessing a
faithful and devoted wife, and he now became naturally anxious to see his
beloved son in possession of a companion in life, before he himself should go
the way of all flesh. His solicitude however was not merely that Isaac should be
married—but well married—which in his view meant not wealthily, but religiously.
Abraham was a worshiper of Jehovah, and abhorred idolatry—by the votaries of
which he was surrounded on every side; and it pierced his heart with anguish to
think of the child of his love contracting a marriage with one of them. He knew
that Isaac’s character as well as his happiness depended upon his choice.
Moreover it was not only a private matter of personal and family arrangement,
involving Isaac’s happiness and the comfort of his father, but also a public
concern, intimately affecting the covenant which the Almighty had entered into
with him, and the countless millions who were to be blessed in his seed. Isaac
sustained a sacred character, he was the child of promise, and inherited, and
was to transmit, the promises concerning the Messiah. As Abraham had relatives
in the land of Mesopotamia who worshiped the living God, he determined to send
his personal servant to engage a wife for Isaac from their family. We must
suppose of course that all this was with the knowledge of Isaac and met with his
cordial consent, though parental authority was then more extensive, and filial
submission to it, more exemplary, than they now are. Parents, in those times,
chose wives for their sons, and husbands for their daughters; and often were
regulated in their choice more by regard to wealth and rank than by the
adaptation and affection of the parties to be united. I do not wish this custom
to be revived—it is unnatural, and reduces marriage to a matter of bargain and
sale. But I do wish parental counsel, consent, and approbation, to be always
sought in a matter of so much importance to all parties concerned, whether
directly or remotely. The trusty servant selected by Abraham proceeded on his
mission—so delicate, difficult, and momentous to both the father and son. Not
however until religious solemnities had been observed, and the patriarch had
commended Eleazar to God by prayer. If we wanted the character of a faithful
servant delineated to the life, where could we find a picture so perfect as this
man? I shall not follow him through his long and wearisome journey of nearly
five hundred miles, nor will I dwell upon the anxious ruminations of his mind
during the weeks it occupied. Yet I cannot but imagine how constantly that mind
was lifted up to God for protection, direction, and success. He at length
arrived at the city of his destination. It was a summer evening, and observing a
well outside the walls, he stopped to give his camels water, before he passed
through the gates. Aware that it was the custom for the young women to come and
draw water for household purposes, he first placed his camels by the well, and
then betook himself to prayer for Divine direction.

"O Lord, God of my master," he prayed. "Give me success and show kindness to my
master, Abraham. Help me to accomplish the purpose of my journey. See, here I
am, standing beside this spring, and the young women of the village are coming
out to draw water. This is my request. I will ask one of them for a drink. If
she says, ’Yes, certainly, and I will water your camels, too!’—let her be the
one you have appointed as Isaac’s wife. By this I will know that you have shown
kindness to my master." Genesis 24:12-14

It is noticeable that he did not fix upon the one who would first offer her
services, but upon the one who would first willingly grant the service asked of
her. In this he proceeded wisely, conceiving, it would seem, that a maid who
offered unasked, to a stranger, even so slight a service as a draught of water
at a public well, showed no maidenly spirit; and deeming perhaps that such
attention might be an excuse for curiosity, and an evidence rather of officious
forwardness, than of an obliging disposition.

Eleazar’s conduct in all this is worthy of notice, as furnishing a beautiful
comment upon Solomon’s advice, "In all your ways acknowledge Him, and he shall
direct your paths." Let us thus begin, carry on, and end, all our works in God.
What is begun in prayer, usually, as in this case, ends in praise. So thought
Eleazar when he knelt down by the side of the well of Nahor, and poured out this
simple and beautiful prayer. In his case it no doubt was well, but ordinarily it
does not become us to ask, much less to prescribe, special tokens by which God
shall indicate his will.

Having presented his prayer, he waited for the answer, and waited in strong
faith that he should receive it. He did not wait long. A young woman came
towards the well, with a water jug upon her shoulder. By her appearance, perhaps
by an impression from God, he was possessed with the idea that she was the
person sought, and that the Lord had answered his prayer. He therefore addressed
her in the language which he had resolved to employ, and received the very
answer which was to be the sign of her being the object of his mission. Her
gentleness, cheerfulness, diligence, and courtesy, manifested towards a stranger
of whom she could have no knowledge, were truly admirable—unmixed and
uncorrupted as they were by any improper forwardness or levity. She was frank
without being obtrusive, kind without being familiar. She neither ran away
affrighted from his presence, for her innocence gave her courage—nor did she
step beyond the decorum of her sex, nor allow her courtesy to infringe upon her
modesty. It was well for Rebekah that she did not answer with a proud and
haughty contempt, and a surly refusal. "Yes, and it was well for another woman,
who long after met another stranger, ’wearied with his journey,’ at another
well, that when she met his request, ’Give me a drink,’ with the surly question,
’How is it that you being a Jew, ask drink of me who am a Samaritan?’ it was
well, I say, for her that she had a different person from Abraham’s servant to
deal with." The words in which Rebekah’s answer and conduct are described, paint
the scene to the life—"Drink, my lord," she said, and quickly lowered the jar to
her hands and gave him a drink. After she had given him a drink, she said, "I’ll
draw water for your camels too, until they have finished drinking." So she
quickly emptied her jar into the trough, ran back to the well to draw more
water, and drew enough for all his camels." Conduct so amiable overwhelmed
Eleazar; and so slow of heart are we to believe in the answer of our prayers,
that—"Without saying a word, the man watched her closely to learn whether or not
the Lord had made his journey successful." Genesis 24:21

There are cases in which the mind, like the eye, is lit up by a sudden light. It
was so here. Finding at length that she was indeed the object of his journey, he
could not repress the feelings of his full heart, but expressed them in two
ways. The first has in all ages and in all countries been considered as one
inlet to the female heart; that heart, which has at any rate been ever thought
"accessible to finery, presents, and praise." "Then at last, when the camels had
finished drinking, he gave her a gold ring for her nose and two large gold
bracelets for her wrists." But this was not the only expression of his joy and
gratitude, for unrestrained by the presence of Rebekah, "He bowed down his head
and worshiped, saying—Blessed be Jehovah, God of my master Abraham, who has not
left destitute my master of his mercy and his truth—I being in the way, Jehovah
led me to the house of my master’s brethren." Did the heart of Rebekah, true to
instinctive perception in all such matters, begin to divine what this present
and this praise to God meant? Did a thought glance across her mind of the nature
of this man’s visit to Nahor? Or was the scene beheld by her in awe and wonder
at the character and errand of the mysterious stranger? She must have known of
her noble relation, Abraham, whose name she now heard in prayer from the lips of
Eleazar. But let us for a moment forget Rebekah, to look upon this holy,
faithful, loving servant. Never did piety and fidelity more truly blend the
sanctity of the one with the devotedness of the other. Happy master, to have
such a servant! Happy servant, to be blessed with such a master!

It is not necessary for me to enter very minutely into the incidents of the
scenes which followed. How Rebekah hastened with the news to her father’s house,
and how Laban her brother went forth to greet the stranger and conduct him to
their home. We mark, as if we saw them, the courtesy of the opening interview;
the frank interchange of kindly greetings and good offices; the admirable
delicacy of the servant’s introduction of himself to the family of Bethuel; the
servant’s impatience to fulfill his errand; the simple recital of what the Lord
had done for him; and the full development of the object of his visit.

Upon hearing them, Laban, as the surviving representative of his father,
replied, "The thing proceeds from the Lord, we cannot speak unto you bad or
good. Behold, Rebekah is before you, take her, and go, and let her be your
master’s son’s wife, as the Lord has spoken." This was dependent, as the after
part of the narrative shows, upon the girl’s consent. To help to gain this, a
second splendid present was prepared for her—of jewels of silver, and jewels of
gold, and clothing. This was, and is still, the oriental custom of contracting
all bargains and entering into all covenants, relating to marriage, trade, or
politics. Very natural was the remonstrance which the brother, and especially
the mother of the bride, addressed to the impatient servant of Abraham, when in
the morning he said, "Send me away to my master. And her brother and her mother
said, let the girl abide with us a few days, at the least ten; after that she
shall go." Whether it be a respite of ten days, or as some say, of ten months,
or even years, that the mother joined with her son in soliciting, before the
daughter should bid her a last adieu, this is a touch of genuine tenderness
which we would not willingly lose from the narrative. For it is a narrative
which proves its own truth by its being so thoroughly, all throughout, true to
nature.

Rebekah was now called in and the question put to her, "Will you go with this
man?" Was she deficient in virgin modesty, in prudence, in thoughtfulness? Did
she display an unseemly haste to become a wife? Did she venture too carelessly
to commit herself and her happiness for life to one of whom she knew nothing,
but by report? Did she not take the decisive step in the dark, when she
consented to peril in such haste the comfort of her life, upon the truth of the
singular embassy that had come to her? In ordinary circumstances I would
unquestionably reply to these questions in the affirmative, and I would
earnestly recommend to all young women at the present day, and to all who have
the care of them, whether parents or guardians, more delay, inquiry, and
caution, than were observed in this case. Hasty offers of marriage should be met
either by immediate refusal or lengthened consideration. It is too momentous an
affair to be decided without much investigation and reflection. But there was a
peculiarity here. Something, perhaps, may be justly imputed to the times in
which they lived, but far more to the religious state of Rebekah’s mind; a sense
of duty overwhelmed a feeling of reluctance, together with every inferior
consideration. She was doubtless in the habit of daily communion with God, and
in fervent prayer had sought Divine direction; she saw an overruling providence;
God was in the affair; his finger, visible to the eye of faith, pointed the way
in which she should go; and with unhesitating obedience she confessed her
readiness to part from all the felicities of home, and seek a distant
alliance—at the voice of the Almighty Being to whom she had committed her future
destiny.

Flattering as the scene before her must have appeared to a worldly eye, the
sacrifices she made at this moment of compliance were certainly very
considerable. What could have led to such an answer, when standing between the
tears of parental and fraternal affection, and the urgency of a mere stranger,
the servant too of her future home—but a faith which overcame the world, and
dictated her holy resolution. Heaven appointed her journey, and nature pleaded
in vain. That religion had something to do with it, I have no doubt; that the
promptings of the female heart had also some influence, I have as little doubt.
"What woman," says Monod, "under a sense of her dependence, has not wished once
in her life, for the arm of a man to support her, and his name to shelter her?
But at the same time, what woman under the feeling of reserve, has not kept her
secret closely shut up within her own bosom, waiting silently until she is
sought for, even though she should wait until the hour of her death, hastened,
perhaps, in some cases, by that internal fire by which she would be consumed
within, rather than allow it to be blazed abroad. The invariable order of
marriage which surrenders the initiative to man, and does not accord even the
appearance of it to woman, is not a refinement of civilization, it is not even a
nicety of the gospel, it is a law imposed on woman in every age, not excepting
the most barbarous; and among all people, not excepting the most savage."

Rebekah partook of this feeling, but she worshiped the true God, and lived amid
those who worshiped idols, where perhaps few opportunities of a holy union
presented themselves; and now one offered, in which was combined all that piety
could desire, and even vanity crave; she therefore required little or no time to
deliberate upon it, and at once consented to accompany the servant of Abraham.
Rebekah took leave of her friends, and proceeded on her eventful journey under
the care of Eleazar, and accompanied, both for her comfort and her protection,
by Deborah, an old and faithful servant who had nursed her from a child. For a
moment we leave her, proceeding on her journey, to speak of her future husband,
of whom good Bishop Hall says, "Of all the patriarchs, none made so little noise
in the world as Isaac; none lived either so privately, or so innocently; neither
know I whether he proved himself a better son or husband. For the one he gave
himself over to the knife of his father when about to be offered up in
sacrifice, and mourned three years for his mother; for the other he reserved
himself in chaste forbearance twenty years and prayed."

Isaac appears to have been a quiet, retiring, domestic, and devotional
character; good, rather than great, and altogether blameless, with the exception
that he was a little too much addicted to the gratification of his palate. "It
is a calm and peaceful summer evening. The oxen have been lodged in their
stalls, and the implements of husbandry are at rest in the furrows of the field.
Not a breath of wind rustles in the noiseless leaves. Not a stray sheep wanders
in the dark shadow of the hills. It is a time of profound repose. One solitary
figure is seen slowly pacing the sweet-scented meadow path. Unconscious of
nature’s charms, although his soul is melted into sweet harmony with the peace
that reigns all around, he is wrapped in holy fellowship with the God of his
salvation." (Candlish)

It is Isaac, "who had gone out into the fields to meditate." No improper oratory
for the good man, who, surrounded by the glories of creation, looks through
nature up to nature’s God. In such an exercise and such a frame of mind, Isaac
was well prepared to receive the best possible earthly blessing—a good wife.
Perhaps he was then meditating upon Eleazar’s mission, and beseeching heaven for
its success. Behold the answer of his prayers! A cavalcade is seen in the
distance approaching. It draws nearer and nearer. Can it be the return of
Eleazar, the faithful servant? And are there not two women in the retinue, one
young and the other far advanced in life? The vision of his future wife now
flashed through his imagination as the procession drew nearer, and his eyes with
fixed attention rested upon the beauteous form of Rebekah.

"And who," says Rebekah, whose eyes are as busy in looking towards Canaan as
Isaac’s are in the direction of Mesopotamia, "is that meditative man approaching
us?" The secret is disclosed by the faithful, joyful Eleazar. "My master,
Isaac!" As she approached her destined husband, see how female delicacy, and
maiden modesty and reserve, resume their empire. "She alighted off the camel;
and took a veil and covered herself." This act expressed her subjection as his
already espoused wife, to him as her future husband.

"And Isaac brought her into his mother Sarah’s tent, and took Rebekah, and she
became his wife, and he loved her—and Isaac was comforted after his mother’s
death." In this tender manner does this admirable story close. Peace be to that
dwelling, the residence of a dutiful son and a tender husband—and of a kind,
generous, open-hearted, pious wife. Dutiful sons promise to be affectionate
husbands—and were I a woman, and received an offer of marriage, one of the first
enquiries I would make concerning the man who solicited my hand and heart, would
be "How did he behave to his mother?" feeling assured that conjugal affection
could scarcely be expected to dwell in that heart from which filial regard had
been excluded. He who is insensible to a mother’s tender affection, believe me,
my young friends, is not to be entrusted with the care of a woman’s heart and
happiness.

"We may here pause and remark that all the circumstances continue to make this
portion of the sacred record peculiarly attractive. In reading it we feel at
home amid these patriarchal incidents and descriptions, realizing them as if
they were familiar. The stately pomp and ceremony, reserve and coldness and
suspicion of a more artificial social state pass away. The freshness of nature’s
early truth and tenderness returns—artless, guileless, fearless. We breathe a
purer and freer air. We are touched with a deeper sense at once of a special
Providence in heaven, and of a real and true sympathy on earth. We feel that
there can be such a thing as the exercise of a frank and generous trust, relying
both upon God and upon man; and that it is possible to act upon the belief both
of God’s superintendence and of man’s sincerity."

Before we consider what is to be learned from the conduct of Rebekah as a wife
and a mother, we will for a few moments contemplate her in reference to the act
which made her such, her marriage. The circumstances connected with this were
peculiar to the times, and partook of a simplicity, as I have already remarked,
to which your history is not likely to supply a parallel. One thing, however,
may be noticed—it was with the concurrence and consent of her family. I cannot
account for the fact of Bethuel, Rebekah’s father, being passed over in silence,
and Laban her brother only being mentioned as conducting the transaction, except
upon the supposition that Bethuel was dead. It is true the name occurs once in
the history, but this probably was a brother. But Laban was consulted. There was
nothing clandestine in the affair. And moreover it was a marriage in which the
claims of religion were considered. On this delicate subject I cannot enlarge.
If Rebekah had showed too great an eagerness for leaving the single state, and
somewhat too hasty a decision, we do not recommend this to you; from this
however we have absolved her.

It may be natural enough to prefer the married to the unmarried state, when an
opportunity offers for entering into it. But let not your minds be unduly
restless and anxious in realizing the object of your wishes. Avoid all romantic
and poetic imaginativeness on this momentous affair. Do not allow yourselves
ever to treat it with levity, or to sustain or adopt a line of conduct which
would look as if you were more anxious to be a wife—than to be qualified for
such a state. Never come to the conclusion that you cannot be happy if you are
not married—and cannot but be happy if you are married. Let the multitude of
happy maidens and the equal number of unhappy wives, correct such mistakes, and
dispel all the illusions with which the idea of marriage disturbs the propriety
of some young women’s conduct.

Treat the whole subject, not as a matter of poetry and romance, but as one of
the gravest realities of life. It is an affair of love—but it is also an affair
of prudence. It is a matter of taste, and even of poetic delightedness—but it is
also a matter of judgment and of conscience. It is not a thing to be laughed and
joked about—but to be pondered in the deepest recesses of the soul—and prayed
over in the most solemn seasons of devotion. It is momentous to both parties,
but most so to the woman.

"Life or death, felicity or a lasting sorrow, are in the power of marriage. A
woman indeed ventures most, for she has no sanctuary to retire to from an evil
husband. She must dwell upon her sorrow, and hatch the eggs which her folly or
her unhappiness has produced—and she is more under it, because her tormentor has
a warrant of prerogative, and the woman may complain to God, as subjects do of
tyrant princes; but otherwise, she has no appeal in the causes of unkindness.
And even of the man we may say, though he can run from many hours of his
sadness, yet he must return to it again, and when he sits among his neighbors he
remembers the objection that lies in his bosom, and he sighs deeply." (Jeremy
Taylor’s "Marriage Ring")

It is not necessary for me here to lay down many rules for your guidance in this
affair. When however it comes in your way, consult, not only your heart, and
your imagination, and your young companions—but your judgment, your God by
prayer, and your parents for advice. Enter into no commitment without the
cognizance of those natural guides and guardians of your youth. It is at the
beginning of connections of this kind that parental counsel should be sought.
Never commit yourselves by a word until the domestic oracle has been
consulted—nor allow your affections to be entangled until a father’s and a
mother’s judgment have been pronounced. Determine that similarity of taste,
especially in the most important of all matters, religion—shall form the basis
of any union you may form. Should it be that God has not destined you to wedded
bliss, do not forget "that there are advantages peculiar to single life—that it
affords an immunity from many cares, an opportunity for intellectual pursuits, a
power to do good extensively—which married women may not enjoy. And if these
privileges are improved; if cheerfulness and benevolence characterize the
disposition, there will be no lack of occupation, of happiness, or of sympathy.
The kind sister or aunt will be always welcomed; she will be hailed as the
agreeable companion, or the tender nurse; as the participator in joy, or the
sympathizer in sorrow; as the helper in business, or the companion in
affliction; she will be the ready assistant in every good work, the children
will run to greet her arrival, the poor will rise up and call her blessed. And
if in truth, as we do see in some bright examples in our own day, her energy
grows with her desire of doing good, and in the assiduous and pain-taking
efforts of Christian charity she seems to forget the weakness of her sex, she
realizes in one of its most pleasing forms primitive devotedness. In pious
exercises more spiritual, in self-denial more mortified, in faith more pure,
than any of the cloistered nuns of the strictest order; while at the same time
her religion is without superstition, and her sobriety without gloom. She is one
of a holy sisterhood—whose vows are scriptural—and whose voluntary service is
the labor of love." (Mrs. Sandford)

We now turn to another chapter in the history of Rebekah, in which she appears
to far less advantage than she does in the one we have just reviewed, where the
artless simplicity of the virgin is lost in the crooked policy of the designing
wife and the too partial mother. Perhaps it will be thought by some that as I am
addressing young women, I might have cut short the story with her marriage and
her virtues—and drawn a veil over her future failings. But I bear in
recollection what I said in a former chapter that the matron should be held up
to the maiden, that from the outset she may learn what to copy—and what to
avoid. And here is a striking example to serve this purpose—an affecting
instance to prove what a transformation a change of circumstances may produce in
the same person! Isaac and Rebekah, like Abraham and Sarah, had their faith
tried in waiting long for the son who was to be the heir of promise. Twenty
years elapsed and Rebekah bore no child. In answer to the earnest prayers of her
husband, God gave her the prospect of becoming a mother. Before this happy event
took place she received a communication from the Lord that she should give birth
to twins, who should be the heads of two separate nations, and that contrary to
the order of nature and the custom of nations—the elder brother should serve the
younger. Esau and Jacob were born, grew up, and exhibited great difference of
taste and character. Into this family of Isaac and Rebekah there entered that
which has rent myriads and myriads of households, setting the husband against
the wife, the mother against the father, and one child against another;
disturbing the harmony of domestic peace; poisoning the springs of domestic
happiness; and preventing the progress of domestic improvement—I mean parental
favoritism. "Isaac loved Esau in particular because of the wild game he brought
home, but Rebekah favored Jacob." Genesis 25:28 In the case of Isaac and
Rebekah, the parents had each their favorite child, and what was
worse—manifested their fondness. It may in some cases be almost impossible not
to have a preference for one child above another, but what anxious carefulness
should there be to conceal it! Policy and justice both demand from parents an
equal distribution of their affection, their favor, and their goods; for if
there be one folly which more certainly punishes itself than another, it is this
ill-judged and wicked favoritism between children. Parental partiality injures
both the one preferred and the one that is slighted—inflating the one with
pride, insolence, and vanity—and corrupting the other by jealousy, envy, and
revenge. Isaac loved Esau, and for a reason not very honorable to his character,
"because he ate his wild game." Rebekah loved Jacob, for what reason we are not
told; it is probable on account both of his superior excellence, and of the
revelation which God had made to her concerning his future history. She was
undoubtedly a woman of sincere faith, and even her most censurable conduct arose
from misdirected piety. She, like another female in after times, pondered in her
heart all the things which had been spoken of God concerning her child of
promise.

It was not long before the effects of parental partiality appeared in the
family. A competition for precedence, and the ’right of firstborn’ engaged the
attention of the brothers, and whetted their spirits against each other from
their earliest years, and the outcome was alienation, separation, hostility, on
the part of the children, and sorrow and distress on the part of the parents.
Jacob’s conduct was selfishness, and Esau’s profane. The younger son knew that
he was destined to precedence, and instead of leaving God to fulfill his own
purpose, sought to accomplish it in a manner unworthy both of himself and of the
blessing.

Time, which moves on with ceaseless tread, had brought Isaac to old age; and he
now thought of his approaching end, and the propriety of settling his domestic
affairs. His great concern was to direct the descent of the patriarchal
blessing, which in this case, implied more than that ordinary benediction which
every good man would pronounce on all his children without distinction; it
comprehended the great things contained in the covenant with Abraham, according
to which his posterity was to be selected and distinguished as the peculiar
people of God, and to give birth to the Messiah. Isaac ought to have remembered
the communication made to Rebekah, and by her doubtless told to him, that this
blessing was to be bestowed upon Jacob. Natural attachment for a while overcame
his faith, and he prepared to divert the blessing from the channel marked out
for it by the purpose and providence of God. To enkindle his affection for Esau,
by the remembrance of past gratifications, he wished to have some savory meat,
certainly a carnal introduction to so divine an act, partaking more of the flesh
than of the Spirit, and betraying more of that parental partiality under which
he had acted, than of the faith of a son of Abraham.

See, of what importance it is to avoid contracting bad habits early, seeing
time, indulgence and habit, interweave them with our very constitution, until
they become a second nature, and age confirms instead of eradicating them. We
find the two great infirmities of Isaac’s character predominant to the last– 1.
A disposition to gratify his palate with a particular kind of food. 2.
Partiality to his son Esau.

Rebekah, whose affection was ever wakeful, active, and jealous for her favorite
child, overheard the charge given by her husband to Esau, and instantly plans a
scheme to divert the blessing into another, and as she knew into its right,
channel. What should she have done? Expostulated with Isaac on the impropriety
of acting in direct opposition to the revealed purpose of God. Such an appeal to
a mind devout and contemplative, as his evidently was, notwithstanding its
weaknesses, would in all probability have succeeded. Instead of this, she
manifested what has ever been considered to be one of woman’s infirmities—a
disposition to have recourse to finesse, stratagem, and maneuver—a wish to carry
her object by a indirect and circuitous way—rather than by an open and
straightforward course.

It is unnecessary for me to enter into the details of her plan, its prompt
execution, and its success. It is a sad story. There was nothing but shameless
trickery and imposition, a disguised person, a stolen name, a false answer.
Everything was bad except the motive, and that could not alter the character of
the action, and transmute evil into good. It was a disgrace to Rebekah, a cruel
fraud practiced upon Isaac, and a most grievous injury inflicted on the moral
character of her son. We must not load Jacob with more of the infamy of this
transaction than what really belongs to him. He was not first in the
transgression. His feelings revolted from it when it was proposed to him. He
remonstrated against it. His remonstrance, however, was founded more upon the
’consequences of the evil’ than the evil itself. And there is a striking
difference between his reasoning and that of his son Joseph. Jacob said, "I
shall bring a curse upon me, and not a blessing;" Joseph’s pious and noble reply
was, "How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God." The resoluteness
of Rebekah is astounding and affecting, confirming the general opinion that
woman, in a bad purpose, is often more bold and determined than man. "Upon me be
your curse, my son—only obey my voice." Appalling spectacle, to see a mother, a
religious mother, so far forgetting what is due to her sex, her relationship,
and her piety, as not only to lead, but to goad and drag on her son to
perpetrate falsehood, and to practice deception upon his half-blind father! O
mothers, read this account and tremble! The plan moves forward, but the whole
plot was in danger of exploding. The conference between Isaac and his son Jacob
is deeply affecting. The half awakened suspicion and artless simplicity of the
father, invests, by the power of contrast, with deeper shades of infamy and
guilt, the shameless, undaunted effrontery of the son. Such is the way of
transgressors, one sin prepares for, and leads on, to another, until the sinner
is involved by a kind of necessity to add another and another lie to help on the
former one. Isaac’s ears were keener than his eyes, and his mind was not so
blunted by age as not to be capable of reasoning upon some improbabilities; for
there is something about falsehood, which though it may silence, yet will not
ordinarily satisfy. Trickery however, in this case was too deep for honesty, and
Isaac, kind and credulous, soon had his suspicions lulled, ate the meal, and
bestowed the blessing. It is no part of my design to paint, or rather copy the
scene which followed, when the return of Esau revealed the plot and proclaimed
the deception. The shock to poor old Isaac was almost overwhelming. As an aged
and an decaying man, the infliction which had been practiced upon him would
excite his indignation. Yet a moment’s reflection would convince him of his
mistake in intending to convey to Esau that blessing which God designed for
Jacob. Such considerations rushing upon his mind at once, sufficiently account
for all his feelings—it was to him like a place where two seas meet, or as the
union of subterranean fires and waters which causes the earth to tremble.

Esau is to be pitied, and would be more so if his distress arose from any other
feelings than disappointed ambition. He who profanely despised his birthright,
cared for the loss of the blessing, only as it deprived him of some earthly
distinctions and temporal possessions.

Rebekah’s deceitful policy had succeeded. But she soon began to reap its bitter
fruits, in perceiving the feud which she had occasioned between the two
brothers. The same tent could no longer contain them. And news having reached
her that Esau plotted revenge, even to the murder of his fraudulent brother, she
hurried away Jacob to the land of Padan-Aram, to seek a protection and a home
among her own relatives. With the sequel of this interesting story you are
acquainted, and we return to Rebekah. The best explanation that can be given of
her conduct, and it has been advanced by her apologists as her defense, is that
she acted from religious motives. Perhaps it is in part true; but I do not think
wholly so. There is much of the mother mixed up with the believer; and no small
share of regard for the interests of a favorite child, blended with regard for
the purposes of God. But be it so, that religion had the principal hand in this
odious deception, then we see how early pious frauds were practiced for the
furtherance of the faith; and Rebekah, so far as this part of her conduct is
concerned, is presented to us as anticipating the principles of the Jesuits; for
even if we concede to her a religious end, we must admit she adopted the most
sinful means to obtain it. She was unquestionably right in her belief that God
designed the blessing for Jacob, and in this one respect, I mean her faith, she
was stronger and more unswerving than her husband. Yet this faith was mixed with
some unbelief after all; for what else was it but a partial distrust, that led
her to adopt such sinful means to secure the accomplishment of the divine
purpose? Does God’s truth require man’s falsehood to fulfill it? Cannot we leave
God to find means to perform his own word without supposing he requires our sins
to help him out of a dilemma? The urgency of the temptation was no doubt very
great. In her view an hour or two would decide the matter, and the blessing
intended for Jacob would be transferred to Esau, and how then would the
declaration be fulfilled? She should have left it to God.

Let us now leave the history, and learn the LESSONS with which it is fraught.
The Scripture narratives are intended to exhibit holiness and sin embodied in
living characters; the one for our imitation, and the other for our warning. And
not infrequently we find both sin and holiness blended in the same character,
requiring a careful analysis and an accurate discrimination. This discrimination
is requisite in looking at the character now before us. As you see Rebekah with
her water jug on the shoulder coming to draw water, you cannot fail to notice
her domestic and industrious habits. Yes, it was when thus occupied—and not when
indolently reclining upon the couch of ease, nor when sauntering with a company
of associates as idle and gossiping as herself, nor when wasting her time in
useless occupations of frivolity and amusement, that Eleazar saw her. No! but,
though high-born, wealthy, and beautiful, bearing the water jug upon her
shoulder to the well to draw the evening’s supply of water for the family.

Every young woman should aim to be useful at home, and she is not a wise or good
mother who does not train her daughters for such occupations. But as I have
already dwelt on this, it is not necessary to enlarge upon it here, any further
than to say that the humble yet useful employments of domestic life, are a
virtuous woman’s most honorable station; that whether in single life, wedlock,
or widowhood, God and nature have destined you, my female friends, to
occupation—not perhaps highly honorable in the eyes of ’unfeeling wealth’ or
’giddy intemperance’—but highly important to the happiness of others, and
therefore essential to your own.

We cannot fail to notice in Rebekah’s early deportment an artless genuine
SIMPLICITY—affectingly in contrast with her subsequent artifice and duplicity.
This it is which invests her character, and most of the excellent ones in
Scripture, with such an irresistible charm. To whatever we look we find that
’simplicity is beauty’. This is true of nature as the great model. Amid all its
grandeur and complexity, its processes appear easy and spontaneous, being all
originated and directed by a wisdom and a power which operate not only without
visible effort but in perfect repose. Simplicity is no less beautiful in art
than in nature, and the very perfection of art is to hide itself in copying the
simplicity of nature. All this holds good of manners, there especially
affectation is hateful and repulsive. ’Studied display’ of any kind, whether of
intellect or virtue, of conversation or even of pronunciation, or of
singularity, whether in dress or habits—is always odious. It cannot secure
respect but must excite ridicule.

Perhaps this is one of the principal follies against which women, and especially
young educated women, have to guard. An ’artificial character’ has a deeper
meaning, involving immorality, as signifying a tendency to artifice,
equivocation, and the simulation of virtue not really possessed. This in its
fixed and consolidated form, is hypocrisy—the most odious vice on earth. But I
now refer to ’artificial manners’—the affectation or parade of superiority in
any particular; a studied mannerism for the purpose of display. This generally
springs from that vanity which has been considered by many female writers as one
of the foibles of their sex, and the prevalence of which really spoils many
otherwise useful and amiable characters. It is in woman what ambition is in man;
and though it may be a less dangerous, it is a more odious fault; and it is a
form of self-love equally jealous and insatiable. Nothing can be more opposite
to the spirit of the gospel, and the only security against it is genuine
humility. Be clothed, young women, with an artless genuine simplicity. It is
your most befitting and beautiful garment; and where will you obtain it, but
from the wardrobe of Christianity?

Observe the COURTEOUS affability of this interesting young woman. Here was a
stranger, a servant, though evidently a servant of a wealthy master; and yet how
respectful, how gentle, how affable was her address. Josephus, fond of adding in
his paraphrastic manner to the terseness and simplicity of the Scripture
narrative, relates that there were other young women with Rebekah, who were
asked for water, but refused; and that she reproved them for their churlishness.
COURTESY is a befitting grace in both sexes, but most so in the female. While
rudeness, which is a ’blemish’ upon masculine character, is a ’blot’ upon
feminine character. A female churl is a monstrosity, from which we turn away
with insufferable disgust. Courtesy is one of the cheapest exercises of virtue;
it costs even less than rudeness—for the latter, except in hearts that are
petrified into stone, must put the subject of it to some expense of feeling.
Even a rough voice issuing from female lips is disagreeable, much more rough
manners exhibited by a female form.

There are various things which prevent the exercise of courtesy. In some cases,
it is to be traced to pride, a vice which befits a demon, but not a woman. In
others it is the result of an absolute bad disposition—a morose, sour, and
ill-conditioned mind, which knows no congenial seasons, and experiences no soft
emotions. Some are petulant and peevish, and when putting on a mood of civility,
are easily driven from it by the slightest touch of their irritability. Be
courteous then; it is, if not of the solid substance of holiness, at least its
polish. It is a Christian grace; for an apostle has said, "Be compassionate and
courteous."

Akin to this was Rebekah’s KINDNESS. There was not only an external affability
of manner—but a real benevolence of disposition. Here was a stranger, tired and
faint with a day’s journey in a hot country, asking her kind offices to procure
a supply of water for himself and his weary animals. To grant his request for
himself, would have cost her no great labor; but it must have been a
considerable effort to draw water enough for a number of thirsty camels! And
this is more apparent when you know the construction of eastern wells, which are
not like ours, but are a kind of sunken cistern, to which you descend by a
flight of steps. How many tiresome descents must this young creature have made,
before she satisfied the thirst of Eleazar’s camels. And there is another little
circumstance which marks her kindness; Eleazar asked only for a "sip "of water,
for so the original word signifies, and she said, "Drink, and your camels." It
was a solitary act, I admit; but it was so promptly, so generously done as to
indicate a habit. It is said, with as much beauty as simplicity, "Love is kind;"
and, if possible, with still greater beauty, it is given as one of the traits of
the virtuous woman, "In her tongue is the law of kindness," the tongue here, as
in all cases, commanding the hand.

Insensibility in a man is bad enough, but worse in a woman. An unfeeling woman
is a contradiction in terms, for the female heart has ever been found the
dwelling-place of kindness, where the misery of others, when all other hopes
have failed, is sure to find an asylum. In what age, or in what country in the
world, has woman forfeited her character as the ministering angel of humanity?
When and where has the female bosom disowned the claims of misery and repudiated
the virtue of benevolence? Arctic snows have not frozen up the springs of mercy
in the female heart, nor tropical suns dried them up. Tyranny has not crushed it
out, nor barbarism extinguished it. Look at Mr. Park, when alone in the midst of
Africa, and lying down to die in poverty and despair, found by the black women
of that wild land, carried to their tent, fed, clad, and cherished amid the
tender strains of the impromptu song, with which they cheered the feelings of
his heart and expressed the benevolence of their own. Young women, cherish in
your bosoms the purest philanthropy. Abhor selfishness—you are made for
kindness. Oppose not the design of your Creator. Do no violence to your own
nature. A stony heart does not behoove you. A tearless woman is a revolting
scene in our sorrowful world. She may be pure and beautiful as the marble
statue—but if withal she is as hard and cold, who can admire her?

I cannot yet pass from the contemplation of this sweet and amiable young
creature to behold her in her future character, until I have referred again to
the veil of MODESTY under which all this affability and kindness was concealed.
In listening to her language, in witnessing her conduct, will the most
fastidious, prudish, or censorious of her sex, find anything to condemn in
anything she said or did? Did she in the smallest measure violate decorum? She
did not stand to gaze upon the stranger and his camels, or do anything to
attract his attention, but was intent upon the object for which she came, and
was diverted from it only by an opportunity to do good, thrown in her way,
without her seeking for it. She did not anxiously or confidently enter into
discourse with the man, but waited until she was addressed, and then answered
him modestly.

Modesty is the most attractive of all female graces. What is intelligence
without it, but bolder impudence; or beauty but a more seductive snare? There
is, I know, a reserve that degenerates into repulsive pride; as on the other
hand, there is a frankness that corrupts into forwardness. Woman is intended
neither to avoid man by a bashful timidity, nor to court him by an obtrusive
advance. A genuine modesty guards against each extreme. It is that
semi-transparent veil, which by revealing half her excellence, makes more lovely
that which it reveals, and excites desire to know the rest. It is her shield as
well as her veil, repelling all the darts with which, either by acts, by words,
or by looks, any one would dare to assail her purity. It is also her ornament,
investing all her other excellences with additional charms, the blush of purity
upon the cheek of beauty. It is her power, by which she subdues every heart that
is worth the conquest. Yes, what is not modesty to woman? Lay not aside your
veil. Cast not away your shield. Divest not yourselves of your brightest
ornament. Enfeeble not your power to influence others. Avoid everything in which
the absence of this virtue can show itself.

See how the lack of it is reproved by the prophet Isaiah in his third chapter
and how the practice of it enjoined by the apostle Paul—"That women adorn
themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety, not with
broidered hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array, but which becomes women
professing godliness, with good works." Neither in dress, nor in conversation,
nor in action, violate this law. Chastity is the robe which every woman should
wear, and modesty is the golden clasp that keeps it upon her, and the fringe
that adorns it. When the clasp is lost, the garment is likely to fall off; and
when the fringe is torn away, or carelessly allowed to be trampled upon, the
disfigurement of the robe has commenced, until at length it is cast away as not
worth being retained.

I do not wish you to mistake a silly and affected bashfulness for modesty. You
live not amid Asiatic ignorance, tyranny, sensuality, and female degradation,
where woman is used mainly to pander to the appetite of her master, and where by
a cruel jealousy she is excluded from communion with all but her fellow-slaves
and their common tyrant. You are the women of an enlightened age and country,
and you are admitted on equal terms to all the enjoyments of social communion.
Assert in this respect your rights; maintain your standing, and while you throw
off all boldness, cast away with it all unworthy prudishness. In one of my
previous chapters, I remarked that the over-prudish mind, which can never speak
to one of the opposite sex but with a blush, is not always the purest one in
reality.

There are, my young friends, one or two momentous lessons for you to learn from
Rebekah’s conduct in after life—lessons which you must carry with you through
all your future existence on earth. The first is GENERAL—a change of
circumstances often produces a considerable change of character and conduct. How
unlike the maid of Nahor was the wife in Canaan! And is it an uncommon thing
now, for a change, far more extensive and more powerful than this, to be
effected by the new condition into which marriage brings the female character?

Learn also this SPECIAL lesson—that we should never seek a good end by bad
means; or in other words, never do evil that good may come. Abhor the great
principle and favorite maxim of Jesuitism, that the end sanctifies the means;
and especially abhor the application and operation of this most detestable
principle in reference to religion; a principle which is more or less interwoven
with the whole history of Popery. What crimes have been perpetrated by the
zealots of Rome in the abused name of religion, for the good of their church!
The pages of history which record the progress of that dreadful apostasy are not
only ’stained’ with blood, but ’steeped’ in it. And even by other professing
Christians, holding a purer creed, and animated by a milder spirit, how much has
been done, ostensibly for religion, but really for sectarianism, in
contradiction of every principle of the law of God, and love to our neighbor!
Religion refuses to be served by any principles of action but its own, and
disdains to accept any offering which is contrary to truth, love, holiness, and
honor. And as the stronger our zeal is for an object, the more we are in danger
of resorting, in times of difficulty or in prospect of defeat, to unworthy
means; so the more fervent we are to promote any religious cause, the more
watchful should we be against being seduced into the use of ’unholy means’ to
obtain success. The wife of Isaac was right in her object, but wrong in her
means, to obtain the blessing for Jacob. But we must take leave of Rebekah. It
is somewhat remarkable that the sacred narrative takes no notice of her death.
One might have hoped that she who came upon our notice at first like a bright
and lovely vision, would have been seen to depart with as much gracefulness,
simplicity, and beauty as she exhibited when we first saw her with such
delighted attention. Is it that this despicable act of her old age so disrobed
her character of its pristine beauty that censure is pronounced upon her by this
most impressive silence? But is hers the only instance of painful contrast
between the maid and the matron? The only instance that has disappointed the
hopes raised by youthful excellences? The only instance in which the full-blown
flower has not answered to the bud? Happy would it have been for thousands if it
were.

Let it then be your first solicitude to exhibit, in your early life and single
state, all those general and moral beauties which form the character of virgin
excellence. Be holy, industrious, modest, benevolent, and useful—inspire hope in
every beholder, and awaken expectation. But then, be ever anxious, studious, and
prayerful, that in the transition from the single to the wedded state; in the
development of the girl into the woman—all that was lovely, artless, and simple
in youthful charms, shall, with unbroken and unvarying consistency, ripen into
all that is holy, estimable, venerable in the wife, the mother, and the matron.


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  CHAPTER 83: 06.09.     THE ORNAMENTS OF A PROFESSION
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THE ORNAMENTS OF A PROFESSION OF RELIGION

"And I want women to be modest in their appearance. They should wear decent and
appropriate clothing and not draw attention to themselves by the way they fix
their hair or by wearing gold or pearls or expensive clothes. But they must show
themselves to be entirely trustworthy and good. Then they will make the teaching
about God our Savior attractive in every way." Titus 2:9-10

"Don’t be concerned about the outward beauty that depends on fancy hairstyles,
expensive jewelry, or beautiful clothes. You should be known for the beauty that
comes from within--the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so
precious to God." 1 Peter 3:3-4

There is in human nature an instinctive propensity to ’decoration’. To whatever
principle the taste may be traced, whether to innate perception of the
beautiful, or to a desire to excite admiration--the fact is indubitable. It is
seen equally in savage and civilized nations; and is manifested by them alike in
attention to the decoration of both their bodies and their dwellings--and indeed
in all their social customs and usages. The string of shells, fish teeth, or
bits of bone--around the neck of the Polynesian; and the blaze of diamonds, or
rubies--upon the brow or bosom of the British Queen, indicate the same
instinctive propensity for decoration. This propensity to decoration, however in
many cases it may be altogether corrupted in its object, wrong in its principle,
or excessive in its degree--is in its own nature an imitation of the workmanship
of God, who, "by his Spirit has garnished the heavens," and covered the earth
with beauty. Who can look over one of creation’s lovely scenes, and behold the
display of elegance of form, and beauty of color--in the flowers of the field
and garden--in the plumage of the birds--in the meandering rivers--and the
gentle undulations of the ground--exhibiting forest and copse, hill and
dale--all gilded with the beams of the glorious sun. I say, who can witness all
this without being convinced that God himself delights in decoration! He has
made a world which he has ornamented so profusely that he has scattered beauties
where there are no eyes but his own to behold them!

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathomed waves of ocean bear;
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its fragrance on the
desert air." To reject all design and effort to add the lovely to the good, and
the beautiful to the useful--would be to oppose and not to imitate, to condemn
and not to approve--the works of the Great Creator. And indeed no sect has ever
arisen among Christians which has even pretended to disclaim all attention to
what is ornamental. Even those who conscientiously repudiate the pearl, diamond,
and ruby, the feather, and the flower, erect their buildings, select their
furniture, plant their gardens, and choose their garments, according to their
ideas of taste, and with some regard to the laws of beauty. Hence, I think that
both the apostles who touch on the subject of personal decoration for Christian
women, are to be understood not as condemning all ornament--but only regulating
it. The propensity to personal decoration is, without all doubt, peculiarly
strong in the female heart. That a maid "should forget her ornaments, or a bride
her attire," is spoken of by the prophet as unlikely to a proverb. There is
nothing wrong in the instinct itself. It serves important purposes. Its total
absence is felt as a serious interruption to the pleasure of social communion. A
sloven is disagreeable--one habitually negligent of neatness or cleanliness in
personal appearance, is intolerable. Christianity no make war on any of man’s
natural propensities--but only on their abuse. Its object is not to eradicate
our instincts, but to prune and train them, and make them bear good fruit.

Now it is well known that some, in what the apostles say on this subject, find
an absolute prohibition of all ornaments of dress, and an injunction to wear
only the most plain and unadorned apparel. I think Christian women may fall into
much more dangerous misinterpretations of Scripture than this; yet I have no
doubt it is a misinterpretation. The prohibition seems to be comparative rather
than absolute, and contains an injunction to be far more attentive to the
ornaments of the soul than to those of the body. "I will have mercy, and not
sacrifice," means, "’I prefer mercy to sacrifice." At the same time, there can
be no doubt that in the words of the text it is taken for granted that women at
all times are, and that the women of those times were, far too much addicted to
ornamental dress; that they trenched both upon modesty and economy by their
habits. And therefore that in these verses the apostle laid down some very
important hints as to the principles on which Christian women should regulate
their attire. They inculcate modesty in opposition to what is immodest—economy
in opposition to extravagance.

"Excessive costliness," says Leighton, on this passage, "argues and feeds the
pride of the heart, and defrauds, if not others of their dues, yet the poor of
their charity, which in God’s sight is a due debt. And far more comfort shall
you have on your death-bed, to remember that at such a time, instead of putting
lace on my own back, I helped clothe a naked back. I abated somewhat of my
former extravagances to supply the poor with necessities. Far sweeter will this
be than to remember that I could needlessly spend large sums of money to serve
my pride, while I grudged a penny to relieve the poor."

Barnes has given, I think, the true meaning of the apostle. "It is not to be
supposed that all use of gold or pearls as articles of dress is here forbidden;
but the idea is that the Christian female is not to seek these as the adorning
which she desires, or is not to imitate the world in these personal decorations.
It may be a difficult question to settle how much ornament is allowable--and
when the true line is passed. But though this cannot be settled by any exact
rule, since much must depend on age, and on the relative rank in life, and the
means which one may possess; yet there is one general rule which is applicable
to all, and which might regulate all. It is, that the true line is passed when
more is thought of this external adorning, than of the ornament of the heart.
Any external decoration which occupies the mind, and which engrosses the time
and attention more than the virtues of the heart, we may be certain is wrong.
The apparel should be such as not to attract attention; such as befits our
situation; such as will not be particularly singular; such as will not leave the
impression that the heart is fixed on it. It is a poor ambition to decorate a
dying body with gold and pearls. It should not be forgotten that it will soon
need other clothing--and will occupy a position where gold and pearls would be a
mockery! When the heart is right, when there is a true and supreme love for
religion, it is usually not difficult to regulate the subject of dress."

It is somewhat remarkable that Plato, the loftiest of all the Grecian sages, has
a passage which strikingly resembles that of the apostle. "Behavior and not gold
is the ornament of a woman. To immoral women, these things, jewels and
ornaments, are advantageous to their catching more admirers; but for a woman who
wishes to enjoy the favor of one man, good behavior is the proper ornament, and
not dresses. And you should have the blush upon your countenance, which is the
sign of modesty, instead of paint—and worth and sobriety instead of gold and
emeralds." It is impossible not to notice this similarity between the apostle
and the philosopher; and equally impossible, one would think, not to mark the
superiority over the reason of the one of the inspiration of the other. "The
philosopher is of the earth, earthly—the apostle brings the authority of God,
and the power of the unseen world distinctly into view. While Plato leads wives
to seek exclusively the honor that comes from men, Peter teaches them to seek
the honor which come down from God, the true Judge of excellence, the great
Fountain of honor."

Before we pass from this subject of personal decoration, we will just notice the
very beautiful reference which the apostle makes to that part of our nature,
which it is to be your chief concern to beautify. "Don’t be concerned about the
outward beauty that depends on fancy hairstyles, expensive jewelry, or beautiful
clothes. You should be known for the beauty that comes from within--the unfading
beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God." How
exquisitely is this put. How impressive the ideas which are conveyed. It is the
decoration of the soul rather than of the body, about which Christian women
should be chiefly solicitous and concerned. The soul is indestructible and
immortal; so should its ornaments be. What can jewels of silver or jewels of
gold do for this? Can the diamond sparkle upon the intellect? or the ruby blaze
upon the heart? Or the pearl be set in the conscience? Or the gorgeous robe
clothe the character? Or the feather or the flower wave over the renewed and
holy nature? No! The appropriate ornaments of the soul are truth, holiness,
knowledge, faith, hope, love, joy, humility; and all the other gifts and graces
of the Spirit--wisdom, prudence, fortitude and gentleness. These are the jewels
with which the heart should be adorned. The outer body is corruptible. Dust it
is, and unto dust it shall return. That beautiful woman glittering in all the
profusion of diamonds--the admiration and envy of the party or the ball room,
must before long be a mass of putrefaction too ghastly to be looked upon--and
then a hideous skeleton, a collection of bones, a heap of dust! And where will
be the immortal spirit? Will it wear the cast-off jewels of the body? O no!
These remain, rescued from the grasp of the ’king of terrors’, but only to
ornament other bodies! But turn now to that other female, the woman who,
regardless of the decoration of the body, was all intent upon the beauty of the
soul. Look at her, who was clothed with the robe of righteousness and the
garment of salvation, and decorated with the ornaments of a meek and quiet
spirit. She too dies; but the indestructible and immortal spirit over which
death has no dominion, goes not unadorned into the presence of the Eternal; for
the jewels with which it decorated itself on earth are as indestructible as its
own nature, and go with it to shine in the presence of God!

"Men," says Leighton, "think it poor and base to be meek. Nothing is more
exposed to contempt than the spirit of meekness; it is mere folly with men. But
that is no matter of concern—this overweighs all disesteem, it is with God of
great price. And these are indeed as He values them, and no otherwise. Though it
be not the country’s fashion, yet it is the fashion at Heaven’s court; yes, it
is the King’s own fashion; ’Learn of me,’ says he, ’for I am meek and humble in
heart.’ Some that are court bred, will send for the prevailing fashions there,
though they live not at court; and though the peasants think them strange
dresses, yet they regard not that, but use them as finest and best. So care you
not what the world says—you are not to stay long with them. Desire to have both
your clothing and your fashions from heaven. The robe of humility, the garment
of meekness, will be sent to you. Wear them for his sake who sends them to you.
He will be pleased to see you in them, and is not this enough? It is never right
in anything with us until we attain to this--to tread on the opinion of men, and
eye nothing but God’s approbation." But we now pass from the ornaments of the
Christian woman’s body to those of her profession, and these indeed are the
chief subject of this chapter. There is something impressive in the exhortation,
"Then they will make the teaching about God our Savior attractive in every way."
Even the great truth of our Divine Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, is thus
represented as susceptible of decoration on the part of those who profess it.
The sentiment conveyed is that the holy life of a consistent Christian is an
adornment of the profession of this sublime doctrine. This, more than all
splendor of tasteful architecture, or gorgeous forms, or imposing ceremonies, or
anything else which can appeal to the senses, is the decoration of Christian
doctrine. It is this, as it shines forth in the beauties of holiness, that truly
decorates religion. "Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes--or rites adorned with
gold." A very large proportion of the members of all Christian churches are
women, and young women too. This, on many accounts, is a very delightful fact.
It has, however, been sometimes complained that like others, they are not so
anxious to sustain their profession well, as to make it attractive. And it is
for their sake, and to lead them to consider what would set off their profession
to the best advantage, that this chapter is designed. What is really ornamental
attracts attention and excites admiration--these are virtues which Christians
should secure by their conduct. I shall proceed on this subject, into the four
following particulars.

I. The PERSONAL QUALITIES which will make the gospel attractive. As incongruity
of conduct in reference to any profession whatever, is a blemish and not a
beauty, a deformity and not a decoration--remember that inconsistency would be a
blemish and deformity in you, in reference to religion. Study your profession,
and thoroughly understand what it implies and enjoins. Consider well what
holiness of conduct; what spirituality of mind; what separation from the world
in spirit and taste; what devotional feelings; what faith, hope, love, and
humility; what amiableness of disposition and kindness of disposition, are
included in that declaration you have actually made--"I am a Christian."

You should not have made such a profession if you did not understand it--or
intend to sustain it. I must remind you, it is a solemn thing to profess to be a
disciple of Christ. It supposes you to be a new creature, that old things are
passed away, and that all things have become new with you; that you have new
principles, new motives, new ends of life, new tastes and new pleasures. Now,
your profession is to be maintained with a due regard to this. Your conduct must
correspond with it. You must be dissimilar in these things, quite so, to those
who make no such profession. They must see the difference as well as hear of it.
You must commend yourselves to them as consistent with yourselves. You must
compel them to say, "Well, we do not like her religion, but it is quite in
harmony with her profession." But what is this CONSISTENCY? The following
remarks will perhaps explain it.

There must be EARNESTNESS, without enthusiasm, fanaticism, or bigotry.
Lukewarmness as to any duty is odious. Earnestness on the other hand excites
attention, and sometimes admiration, even where its object is far from
commendable; how much more where that object is holy, benevolent, and useful. It
is a noble and a lofty spectacle to see amid a race of frivolous mortals, one,
who being immortal, is intent upon its immortality; and though surrounded by the
frivolities of this visible world, is intent upon the realities of the unseen
eternal world!

Nothing can be more dull and repulsive than a lukewarm and heartless profession
of religion--a pale, sickly, and shriveled form, which has all the decay of
consumption, without its hectic flush or dimmed eye. On the other hand, how
impressive a spectacle is it to behold a young woman amid the wonderment of some
of her companions, and the laughter of others, rising upon the wings of faith
and habitual devotion above the region of their levities, into that of devotion;
to see her eye, as it is upturned to heaven, sparkling with the beam of eternity
that has fallen upon it; and to follow her in her ardent career, pursuing her
seraphic course, undeterred by contrary examples or opposing influence. But
there must be no ’enthusiasm’ leading her to violate the law of sobriety; no
’fanaticism’ leading her to tie down others to all the rules she has imposed
upon herself, and to cherish a hostile, much less a malignant feeling towards
them, because they seem to differ from her in some things which she deems
important. There must be the most profound humility blended with all this
intense earnestness, and the mildest forbearance towards others, combined with
the utmost conscientiousness as regards the laws which she imposes on herself.

Earnestness implies a resolute determination never to allow others to interfere
with our convictions; a courage that dares to be singular; a fortitude which
braves opposition, though it should be united with gentleness even under
persecution. Earnestness must be shown by an intelligent and well-regulated zeal
to bring others under that influence which is the spring of its own energies.
Mild in persuasion, gentle in entreaty, and with a loving insinuating manner,
the female religious professor must aim at the conversion of others. Usefulness,
in the way of holy activity for the temporal and eternal happiness of mankind,
must be a conspicuous trait of her character. Selfishness, indolence, and
inertness, are disfigurements of character--while benevolent activity is one of
its richest ornaments.

There must be seriousness without gloom. On the one hand, she who is bent upon
eternity and anxious for salvation, cannot sink down into the levity of those
who are all taken up with fashion, amusement, and folly! On the other, true
religion includes such an intelligent joy as makes its possessor satisfied with
her own sources of enjoyment, without running to the amusements of the world for
pleasure and excitement. The young female professor must let it be seen and felt
that her religion is her bliss--and not her penance; that it is her song and her
solace. She must appear as irradiated with sun-beams, and not invested with
gloominess. Her countenance must be the index of a heart at peace--of a bosom
serene and happy. And in addition to all this, there must be a most anxious
desire to cultivate that prime virtue in the composition of womanly and
Christian excellence--GENTLENESS. See how this is commended in the passage which
I have already quoted from the writings of the apostle Peter—"The unfading
beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God." God values
gentleness above all gifts of intellect, delights in it above the most splendid
genius, honors it above all that men delight to honor. Gentleness is woman’s
ornament above all others; it is her defense, for who can oppress the gentleness
which never provokes, and can scarcely resist or complain? Who can wantonly
tread on that lowly, lovely floweret, which as it lifts its unpretending head,
silently says, "Can you crush one that hurts nothing?"

Nothing is more unsightly than the reverse of this--an irritable, discontented,
peevish, domineering woman. Hence the declaration of the inspired Israelitish
sage, "It is better to live alone in the corner of an attic--than with a
contentious wife in a lovely home." "It is better to dwell in the
wilderness--than with a contentious and angry woman."

Mr. Jay has drawn a beautiful picture of this virtue in his character of a
Christian wife; as one "who can feel neglects and unkindnesses, and yet retain
her composure; who can calmly remonstrate, and meekly reprove; who can yield and
accommodate; who is not ’easily provoked,’ and is ’easily entreated;’ who would
endure rather than complain, and would rather suffer in secret, than disturb
others with her grief." Such is gentleness--the highest form of the peculiarly
Christian life--and such the ornament of female Christian profession.

II. The SOCIAL QUALITIES which will make the gospel attractive.

Great injustice has been done to religion, and a great hindrance thrown in the
way of its diffusion, by those descriptions of it, which represent it as an
abstract thing, almost exclusively appertaining to the Sunday as to time, and to
the church as to place; a mere matter of devotion, a transaction between God and
the soul about salvation and heaven; but having nothing or little to do with
secular affairs, the social relations, and the places of resort in human life;
in short, as a thing which looks entirely heavenward, but which casts no glance
upon earth. This is superstition, and we find enough of it in Popery, which
overlays with a cumbrous ceremonial the moral duties of the law, as well as the
free grace of the gospel; cuts in many instances the ties of social life, and
isolates men and women from their fellows; and by the devotions of the cloister,
the convent, and the church, supersedes the duties of the house, the shop, and
the exchange; thus setting forth religion, as fitting men for the next world,
but having very little to do with their abode in the present one. On the
contrary, true religion, the religion of the Bible, is seen under two aspects;
one looking up to heaven; the other looking down to earth. It gathers all the
interests of man under its protection and fostering care. Like the sun, which,
though fixed in the heavens, pours the flood of his light and glory and
cherishing influence upon earth; or like the atmosphere which, though above the
earth, enters into every place upon it, and sustains the insects that creep, as
well as the birds that soar; so religion irradiates with its light, guides by
its revelations, animates with its stimulus, sanctifies by its power, and
blesses with its influence--in all their relations, and all their interests--all
those who yield themselves up to its authority and government. It goes to
palaces and teaches kings; to the legislature and teaches senators; to the
exchange and teaches merchants; to the cottages and teaches peasants and
workmen—instructing all in the various duties which they owe to God and to their
fellow men.

Religion is also a household thing, a family law—it lifts the latch of the house
and goes in and takes its seat at the parental table, and joins the circle round
the hearth, as well as round the altar; it swells the joys of the domestic
fellowship, as well as responds to the morning prayer, or chants the evening
hymn; it founds the duties of the second table of the law upon those of the
first, employs the loftiest theology to enforce the commonest morality, and
enjoins the most ordinary obligations of social existence by motives drawn from
the cross of Christ. Hence the necessity for professors to pay the greatest
attention to the various duties of social and domestic life.

We are commanded to let our "light shine before men, that they seeing our good
works may glorify God." So in the beautiful passage quoted from the apostle
Peter, where he gives directions to Christian wives, he says, "Wives, in the
same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe
the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives,
when they see the purity and reverence of your lives." Here again is the fact
set out, that religion is intended to regulate the communion, and form the
character, of domestic and social life, and that where its influence so exerted
is seen, it must be beneficial to the observers of it. I wish to press this most
earnestly upon your attention, that the faith of the gospel is intended and
calculated to carry social excellence to the very highest perfection. It is the
soil in which all the seeds of domestic happiness will best flourish.

It should not be forgotten that social excellence is often seen apart from
religion. Exemplary instances of the home duties of life are often found in
those who make no profession of religion. Good husbands and wives, parents and
children, brothers and sisters, are found outside the circle of vital piety--a
fact which ought to make those that are within it, still more anxious to be
exemplary in the discharge of their obligations. A real Christian should excel
unconverted people not only in religion, but in morality. She should not only be
more holy, but more socially excellent. She should excel the worldling in those
things which the latter makes her boast, and rise above the level which she has
prescribed as her highest elevation in moral and social virtue. Select,
therefore, the most dutiful and affectionate daughter, the most kind and
attentive sister you can of this class, and say to yourself, "She makes no
profession of religion, and yet she excels, in a manner worthy of attention and
admiration, in all the duties of domestic life. Now, as I do profess religion, I
must if possible be still more exemplary than she is in all social obligations,
for surely nothing could possibly bring religion into greater disrepute than for
my parents, or my brothers and sisters, or even the servants, to make a
comparison to my disadvantage, between my conduct and hers."

If you would adorn your profession it must be in this way of domestic
excellence. There may be the most seraphic piety, so far as the raptures of
devotion go; there may be a most punctilious performance of all the rites and
ceremonies of religion; there may be a most eager and regular attendance upon
all the public services of religion; there may be an ardent zeal for the spread
of the religious peculiarities of your denomination, but if at the same time
there be a deficiency of duty, honor, and obedience to your parents, or of kind
interest and affection for your brothers and sisters, or of humane consideration
for your servants; all this religious profession will only excite disgust, and
raise a suspicion of your sincerity, and a prejudice against religion itself. No
one can possibly be attracted to, or conciliated by, a religion which is in any
great degree destitute of social and domestic excellence. It is a terrible taunt
to be thrown at any one—"Yes, she is, if her own profession and supposition be
consulted, a very good Christian; but it is a pity she is not a better daughter,
a more kind sister, and a more accommodating neighbor." The most flaming
profession must be at once thrown into eclipse by such a sarcasm. If you were to
study how most effectually to discredit, not only your profession of it, but
religion itself, you could not be more successful than by associating with it
such a line of conduct as this. I do therefore most solemnly and anxiously
entreat you to enter very deeply into the subject of the chapter entitled, "The
Parental Home."

It is probable that this chapter will be read by some who sustain the character
of female servants. This is a class of people to be found in all our churches,
and in some is very numerous; and I take this opportunity of saying that I have
many such who are among the brightest ornaments of the church under my care, and
who by their exemplary deportment do much to recommend religion to their
employers. Their honesty, diligence, industry, good disposition, and obliging,
respectful deportment, make them the comfort of the households in which they
live. It is somewhat observable that the text which speaks of our "adorning the
doctrine of God our Savior," was addressed to servants. And so far as the
ornamental parts of religion are concerned, as well as its substantial elements,
none have more occasions, or more favorable circumstances, for exhibiting them
than female servants. Their humble situation, by testing their good disposition,
devotedness, and submission, gives them an opportunity of bringing out into bold
and beautiful contrast, the most lovely traits of Christian piety. On the other,
hand, there are some, who by a lamentable deficiency of these more amiable
qualities, though perhaps they may have real religious principle, have excited
much prejudice against genuine piety, and led their employers to say, "I am not
anxious again to have what are called religious servants, for in most things
they are no better, and in some they are worse than others."

III. There are INTELLECTUAL ornaments of your profession, which you should
seek--both on their own account and on that of religion. True it is that genuine
and consistent religion is its own recommendation, and depends upon nothing
extraneous for its real value. Still, since there are those who have imbibed
prejudices against it, and have taken up mistaken views of its nature, as if it
were at war with the gifts of the intellect and the graces of the character--it
would be well to disarm their minds, and by reason and elegance, to convince
them that piety is not, as they may suppose, another name for ignorance,
stupidity, and vulgarity. For their sakes, then, as well as for your own
pleasure, cultivate your minds by study. Acquire an eager thirst for knowledge.
Be fond of reading, and of the best kind of reading. Disprove the slander that
girls are only fond of tales and novels, of stories of love, female adventures
or heroism. Prize knowledge; desire to arrive at truth; be anxious to
investigate the wonders of nature; and covet to enrich your minds with the
treasures dug up and distributed in such abundance in this wonderful age. Store
your minds with this wealth. But let other faculties be brought into exercise
besides your memory; cultivate your judgment, be inquisitive, reflective,
discriminating. There are many young people whose memory is a storehouse crowded
with facts, names, and dates, but who are lamentably deficient after all in
judgment. They may talk French, quote history, and display other worldly
accomplishments, but their intellect is too feeble to form, to hold, or to
defend, an opinion of their own. We do not of course expect all women to be
profound logicians, but most tolerably well-educated women may by vigorous and
well sustained efforts arrive at some maturity of sound judgment.

Let it then be seen that the highest kind of wisdom and knowledge does not lead
you to despise the lower kinds; lest those who are competent only in them,
should by what they see in you, despise that which is the highest. Make it clear
that they who are the children of God are most solicitous to become acquainted
with all the works of their Heavenly Father, not excepting the wonders and
glories of creation. Convince the worshipers of the God of nature, (or rather of
the false god, Nature) that while you are chiefly anxious to pass on and worship
Him who sits enthroned between the cherubim, upon the mercy seat in the Holy of
Holies, you can bow and adore with them in the vestibule of his temple, and
ascend with them to the highest altitude of earthly subjects and general
knowledge; and that when like birds of weaker pinions, and dimmer vision, they
droop the wing and stop their flight, you, like the eagle soaring still upward
to the sun, can still pursue your heaven-bound course, and rise into the regions
of celestial splendor.

Nearly allied to this, is taste, or a perception and love of the beautiful and
sublime in nature, in literature, in accomplishments, in conduct, yes, and in
Holy Scripture. The Bible is full of instances of this. With a correct literary
taste you will relish more even this bread of life, that came down from
heaven--the Word of God. Inspiration has garnished its page with beauties that
are hidden from eyes whose vision has not been strengthened by education. The
Scripture is a paradise of flowers to be admired, as well as of fruits to be
eaten.

Taste displayed even in what are called accomplishments is ornamental to piety,
when not carried to excess. As I observed, in a former chapter, these matters of
elegance are not to be despised. True, it is a sin for a Christian woman to
spend hours and hours of each precious day in the fashionable modes of killing
time--by embroidery, crotchet work, painting, languages, and music--to the
neglect of religion, useful reading, and all benevolent effort. It is truly
affecting, to see a rational, immortal, and accountable creature, dwelling in
this world of ignorance, sin, and misery, which she could do something to
enlighten, reform and bless, (and she herself on her way to eternity and the bar
of God,) consuming the best and preparatory period of her whole existence in
this world and the next, in working figures upon canvass, or drawing them upon
paper; or in playing and singing; or in acquiring German, French, or Italian.

Let me not however be misunderstood. I am not such a rigid utilitarian as to be
the advocate of the merely useful in human character, for I really love and
admire the ornamental. I am not all for Doric strength, but contend also for
Ionic grace and Corinthian elegance. I am not for young women laying down the
needle and the pencil; or for their leaving the piano silent and untouched; or
foreign languages unlearned. No such thing! Religion forbids not these matters.
Nature, and the Bible too, are full of the sweetest embroidery and enameling,
full of music and painting, and all the varieties of a language not our own.
Instead of forbidding what can add embellishment to the female character, I
enjoin it. Woman, formed to please, yes, made in Paradise, where beauty was in
perfection, and where your first lessons in taste were taught by the Great
Master of all created beauty, go on to besprinkle your character and to
interweave your conduct with every flower of elegance; and especially Christian
woman, let it be seen by your sex, that you have not so learned Christ as to
throw off all delight in the tasteful, the decorative, and the picturesque, with
which pointing to the lily, the vine, the birds, and the flocks, he was pleased
to enliven and adorn his own discourses. To me it is always a beautiful sight to
behold the robe of righteousness and the garment of salvation, in which genuine
piety is ever attired, adorned, (not encumbered,) with the jewels of elegant
accomplishments and tasteful decoration.

Now all this is important to you as young unmarried women—and how is the
importance of it augmented by your looking forward and contemplating yourselves
in future life, as wives and mothers! Without intelligence and taste, are you
fitted to be the companion of a wise and sensible man, or to preside with
advantage over the education of children? Remember the character of the age in
which you live. But even in these days of knowledge and taste we know very well
that the aptness and ability of a good house-wife are always invaluable—for it
is a poor commendation to say of a woman, "She is exceedingly well informed in
all the literature of the day, quite learned, but she knows very little of
household affairs." I believe her husband often thinks, if he does not say, "I
would dispense with a great deal of her bookishness and her knowledge, if I
could have the house kept in a better condition, and enjoy a little more comfort
at home."

Still, a wife and a mother, to all the household prerequisites, should and may
add intelligence and taste. It is indeed the perfection of womanly character, at
once to "look well to the ways of her household" and also, to "open her mouth
with wisdom." How impressive and attractive a scene is it to see a pious,
well-informed, accomplished woman, respected as well as beloved by her husband,
as his intelligent companion, esteemed by his guests, and looked up to with
confidence, reverence, and affection by her children, over whose general
education she presides with dignity and ability.

IV. There are some things which are not reducible to either of the other heads,
and which may therefore be called general excellences of a decorative nature.
These have been already dwelt upon in former discourses, and therefore need only
be briefly mentioned here. We find them set forth in the early character and
conduct of Rebekah; in which we beheld modesty without silliness, frankness
without forwardness, courtesy without affectation, and pleasantness without
servility. In short, all that maidenly reserve which would restrain whatever is
obtrusive, crude, impudent, and bold; and which yet would allow of an artless,
ingenuous, and unembarrassed mode of communion with the other sex.

I have sometimes seen good women so bold, obtrusive, and imposing, as to repel
and disgust. I could not doubt that they had really some religious principle
within this indecorous outside, but it could scarcely be seen. In some cases it
has happened that even the very profession of religion, which should have led
women to draw closer the veil of modest reserve, has led them to throw it off
altogether, and they seemed to act as if the Christian name, which ought to be a
guarantee for all that is meek and gentle, was a sanction for improper
forwardness. On the contrary, there are others, whose profession of religion has
so disfigured them with the airs of assumed sanctity, so stiffened them into
prudish reserve, and so distorted the simplicity of nature with the formalism of
gloomy superstition, that they are repulsive as spectres, and lead many to
exclaim, "If this be religion, it may be pure, but it is surely unlovely, and,
one would imagine, as unfit for heaven, where all is joyous, as it is for earth,
where if happiness be lacking, this certainly cannot supply it."

Good disposition, or amiability, is essential to the adornment of a Christian
profession. This has been alluded to already in more places than one, but its
importance justifies the repetition. I have already admitted that there is a
great difference in this respect in natural constitution. Hence it costs some
immensely more pains to acquire a small degree of this excellence, than it does
others to manifest ten times the amount. And really there may be more of
principle and virtue in the small measure of the one, than in the abundance of
the other. Some indulgence should therefore be shown to those who are born with
a crabbed disposition, and they should not be judged too harshly. We see the
fault, but not the contrition with which it is followed; nor do we witness the
deep self-abasement which the ebullition of the moment inflicts for hours, if
not days. But still we would enjoin on those who are conscious of this
infirmity, a most anxious, earnest, and prayerful attention to the subject.

Let every woman who is troubled with an over-wrought sensibility, a morbid
susceptibility of offence, an unusual liability to passion, put her heart under
discipline, or her constitutional tendency will be a prolific source of misery
to herself, and to others around her. It is not, however, as a source of
disquietude that I now allude to it, but as a cause of scandal. A bad
disposition not only troubles the heart, but it disfigures the profession.
Observers can see nothing to love and admire in religion, when found in company
with so much ill-temper. There are some people whose bad disposition is
unassociated with piety, or indeed moral worth of any kind, and they are wasps,
hornets, scorpions, all venom and no honey, according to the degree of malignity
they possess. There are others who have real godliness and some sterling
excellence of other kinds, and they resemble bees, who though they have honey,
yet are somewhat irritable, and have also a sting for those who offend them.
Cultivate then a lovely and amiable disposition as one of the brightest
ornaments of religion. It is to religion what the burnish is to the gold, the
polish to the steel, the fragrance to the rose, the sunshine to the gorgeous
scene.

There is one thing which, in addition to all that has been mentioned, is
requisite to give the finishing stroke of ornament to the character of the young
female professors of religion; and that is the virtue that is sometimes
designated good sense, at other times prudence, at others thoughtfulness. I know
such dispositions are thought by some minds to partake too much of a grave
demeanor, to be ornamental in youth. They may hang like rich ripe clusters round
the character of the matron, but such people think the beauty of youth consists
of the picturesque, the romantic, with a tinge of the wild, the visionary, and
the enthusiastic. There is no poetry they imagine in prudence, no imagination in
good sense, no imaginativeness in thoughtfulness. True, and I will concede so
much as to allow that a precocious gravity, an anticipation of the sobriety of
threescore years and ten, is not what I enjoin, or wish to see in youthful
maidens.

Even religion with all its solemn proprieties, all its heavenly sanctities, does
not extinguish the vivacity, the sprightliness, the buoyancy of a girl in her
teens. I love to see her sparkling eye, her sun-lit countenance, her elastic
step, and to hear the merry note of her laughter, and the music of her cheerful
voice. These are ornamental, they belong to her age, and the natural flow of her
spirits, and it is only superstition that would turn that young and joyous
creature into the stiff and silent statue, the nun-like figure, or the unsmiling
devotee. But then, is it any detriment to all this innocent hilarity to have
meditative thoughtfulness, an instinctive sense of propriety, cautious reserve
and accurate discrimination? Is it a blemish rather than a beauty to be able to
consider what in all circumstances is best to be done, and to be able to do it
well? To act from principle rather than from impulse, and to be guided by reason
rather than by feeling? To weigh words before they are spoken, and estimate
actions before they are performed? Is not propriety beauty? Are notions and
caprices, whims and eccentricities, imprudence and follies, ornaments? Yes, in
the estimation of that silly girl (but in hers alone), who would rather be
smiled at for her wildness and her weakness, than commended for her more solid
excellence. What kind of a mother is this romantic and wayward creature likely
to make? Let the Christian young woman be very jealous then of this romanticism,
and consider it is not in keeping with the dignity and sanctity of religion. The
matrons are admonished by the apostles to teach the young women to be sober; a
word that refers to a prudent thoughtfulness.

Such then are the ornaments of early female religious profession. It has been
throughout this chapter supposed that there may be real piety, without some of
these accompaniments--a rough unpolished godliness, true but unadorned religion.
One young female may be sincere in her profession of religion, and yet have an
uncorrected infirmity of disposition—another may be very illiterate or very
weak-minded—another may be guilty of various little inconsistencies which
tarnish the beauty of her profession—another may be rash, restless, and
imprudent—another may be spiritually proud, and something like pretended
sanctimonious—another may be lacking in agreeable and accommodating manners or
habits at home. In all these ways and in various others, religion may be
disparaged, shorn of some of its beauty, rendered less attractive, and made even
repulsive to those who observe it.

"Let not your good," says the apostle, "be evil spoken of." Religion is itself
so transcendently excellent, (being the highest glory of man, the image of God,
and the disposition of heaven,) that it should be exhibited to the greatest
possible advantage. Who that wore the portrait of some dear friend, or suspended
a picture of the queen in their house, would not wish to have it so framed as to
be worthy of the subject? Who would not deprecate the idea of their keeping it
either covered with dust or defilement? True religion is the only thing that can
make people happy in this world, or guide them to eternal felicity in the world
to come. How solemnly, tremblingly anxious should all who profess it, be to
exhibit it in the most advantageous light, and with the greatest and most
powerful attractions! How deeply solicitous should we be, lest by anything
others see in us, they should take a prejudice against it, and we should thus
cast stumbling blocks in their way! How desirous should we feel, and how
studious should we be, to invest our profession with whatever things are
lovely--that others, beholding our good works, our peace of mind, our meekness,
gentleness, and kindness, our usefulness and humility, should be won to Christ;
that so if they will not love religion in the first instance for its own sake,
they may be conciliated to it by the ornaments with which, in our case, it is
decorated!

Before this chapter is concluded, I may with great propriety suppose that some
will read it who have not made a profession of religion, who are not in visible
connection with a Christian church, and are living in the habitual neglect of
the Lord’s Supper. Making no profession of religion! How is this? Have you none
to profess? Melancholy idea! No religion! Better, I admit, not to profess at
all, than to profess what you do not possess, and thus add hypocrisy to your
other sins. But is it not painful and fearful to think of a rational, immortal,
sinful being, living without penitence, prayer, faith, and love? How can you
live another hour in such a state? What are all the intellectual ornaments
spoken of above, without personal piety, but a garland of beautiful flowers
round the brow of a corpse; or but as diamonds sparkling on the bosom of death?
Oh, for your soul’s sake, live no longer without remembering your Creator in the
days of your youth.

Others, perhaps, will read this discourse, who, though partakers of true faith
in Christ and love to God, are not yet professors of the religion they possess.
We again say, How is this? Have you pondered that language of the apostle, "With
the heart man believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made
unto salvation," or that solemn injunction of Christ, when he instituted the
sacred supper, "Do this in remembrance of me." Is this the command you select
from the law of the New Testament as the only one you feel at liberty to
disobey? This one, so tender, so touching, so loving! This, delivered in sight
of the cross, only a few hours before our Lord endured those agonies by which
you are saved! What! neglect the command of dying love, a command so positive,
an invitation so gracious, an injunction, obedience to which is at once so
honorable, so happy, and so useful! What is your reason for this neglect? Do you
tremble to make a profession because it is so sacred? Have you not mistaken the
design of the Lord’s Supper; it is simply a commemorative ordinance, and are you
not deluded and terrified by the mystery in which priestcraft has sought to
envelope it?

But, "you tremble to make a profession lest you should dishonor it, as so many
have done." They have indeed, and the painful fact should lead to caution,
self-examination, and earnest prayer for grace, that another stumbling-block
should not be furnished by you. But the very fear will, if sincere, be your
preservation from the object of your dread. The path of duty is the way of
safety. Besides, are you less likely to sin outside the pale of communion than
within it? We invite you, therefore, if you are partakers of true faith, to
profess, or to use a scriptural synonym, to confess it. The communion of saints
and the participation of the Lord’s Supper will by God’s grace, strengthen the
principle, and call forth the exercise, of the Divine life, and be at once your
honor and your joy. And as to you who are already to be found in the fellowship
of the faithful, I congratulate you on the choice you have made, and on the
decision to which you have come. To your pastors it was a source of unspeakable
pleasure to receive you among the number of the followers of the Lamb. You, in
an especial manner, are their hope, and joy, and crown of rejoicing, inasmuch as
they look to you, and those who may descend from you, to fill up the places of
more aged disciples, when they, according to the course of nature, shall be
removed to the church triumphant. Acknowledge practically and gratefully the
grace you have received from the Lord, by using your influence with labor and
judgment, to engage other young people, your relatives and companions, to come
and share with you the privileges, and enjoy the blessings of Christian
communion. And to give effect to your persuasions, exhibit all the beauty of
consistent example. Let religion be seen in you, combining with all its
sanctities and spiritualities, the pleasantness of life, amiability of
disposition, general intelligence, correct taste, and general social excellence,
which shall predispose them in favor of genuine piety. Make it evident to them
that true godliness is as happy a thing as it is a holy one. Convince them by
what they see in you as well as by what they hear from you, that you have found
the secret, and that your soul has touched the center, of bliss. Let the richest
excellences that can adorn the female character--all the most rare and delicate
beauties that are admired in it--be strung together upon the golden thread of
eminent piety, and be hung like a necklace of heavenly pearls round your
profession. Thus, "make the teaching about God our Savior attractive in every
way."


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  CHAPTER 84: 06.10.     THE CHARACTERS OF MARTHA
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THE CHARACTERS OF MARTHA AND MARY OF BETHANY As Jesus and his disciples were on
their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to
him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what
he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made.
She came to him and asked, "Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to
do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!" "Martha, Martha," the Lord
answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is
needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."
Luke 10:38-42 This beautiful little gem of sacred history is replete with
instruction in reference to every one of the individuals which it brings before
us. It is a group of characters, each possessing its own peculiar excellence and
interest. It says much for the condescension, kindness, and fidelity of the
chief personage of the scene; and not less for the feelings and the excellences
of the other two. In the person and conduct of Jesus are always combined,
without being confounded, all the uncreated glories of the Godhead, and all the
milder beauties of the perfect man—and if in the admiration of his humanity we
are not to lose sight of his divinity, so neither in the contemplation of his
divinity are we to forget his humanity. Human nature had its consummation in
him, he is its representative in its best estate, the pattern man. His greatness
did not raise him above any kind of goodness or the manifestation of it. Is
friendship one of the virtues of our nature, one of the bonds of society, one of
the blessings of life, a sweet and lovely flower that unfolds its beauty and
exhales its fragrance in the garden of our social existence? Behold in Jesus
Christ this virtue in perfection! He had his friendships, not indeed capricious
ones; they were all founded on the characters of their objects; but he had them.
His nature was susceptible of special regards. He felt more delight in some of
those he loved, than in others of them. Hence the groundlessness of the cavil
against Christianity that it nowhere positively enjoins the practice of
friendship; for it does more, it exhibits it in the character and conduct of its
Divine Founder. For "Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus," and this
was so well known, that when Lazarus was ill, "his sisters sent unto Christ,
saying, Lord, behold he whom you love is sick!" And where shall we find a more
beautiful manifestation of friendship than in the gospel narrative of Christ’s
conduct when Lazarus was dead? In entering upon this interesting history, I
observe, that it is one of the peculiarities of our Savior’s discourses that he
often takes occasion to graft general truths on special incidents, and makes
comparatively small occurrences the vehicle of momentous instructions—in a few
words bringing everlasting truth, in some important view of it, home to all
times and circumstances. Standing on the spiritual center-point, he, without
violence, entwined the minutest and least important circumstances of the
present, with the loftiest eternal truths. Thus in the conduct of the two
sisters before us, he places together the nothingness of all love and care for
the body—in comparison with care for the soul and solicitude about that which is
everlasting.

Bethany was a little village about two miles from Jerusalem, inhabited as a
suburban retreat by many wealthy and respectable Jews. There dwelt Martha, who
appears to have been the elder sister, and manager of the house; her sister
Mary, and a brother named Lazarus. Whether the sisters were maidens or widows,
we are not informed. All we know of the family is, (and it is the best and most
worthy thing to be known of them,) that they were all united, not only by the
ties of nature, but of grace, they were all one in Christ, partakers of "the
common salvation," by a "like precious faith." In the bosom of this little quiet
and holy family it is probable Jesus occasionally found repose after his bodily
fatigues and mental sufferings in the unbelieving city—for his humanity was
susceptible on the one hand of both these, as indeed of all the sinless
infirmities of our nature, and on the other of the relief afforded by rest and
pious converse. "O happy house," says the pious Bishop Hall, "into which the Son
of God given to set his foot! O blessed women, that had grace to be the
hostesses to the Lord of Heaven and earth! How would I envy your felicity
herein, if I did not see the same favor, though in a different way, if I be not
lacking to myself, lying open to me!" There are two ways of receiving Christ
even in the present day; in himself, by opening to him our hearts in faith; and
in his members, by opening our hands in charity, and our doors in hospitality.
And Christ will esteem himself better served in these ways, than he would were
he again upon earth, by being physically entertained in our houses. On one
occasion when the Divine Visitant made his appearance by an unexpected visit,
Martha, as the head of the household, the presiding spirit of the domestic
economy, with an anxiety prompted by a loving and generous heart towards her
illustrious guest—not altogether, perhaps, unmixed with a desire to display her
skill in good housewifery—set about providing the best and fullest entertainment
the kitchen could afford. We can see her in the fullness of her cares and the
activity of her disposition, cheerfully and busily engaged in getting ready the
supper. Eyeing everything with minute inspection and provident forethought, that
nothing might be lacking, that was worthy either of her Lord or of herself.
Generous, but mistaken woman, do you know so little of your Lord as to imagine
he needs, or can be gratified with, all this care and provision for his sake?
Had you never heard that he once said to his disciples when pressed to take
food, "My food and my drink are to do the will of my Father in heaven?"

Yet it was love, though mistaken love. I can fancy her saying to herself, "Can I
ever do enough for him who deserves infinitely more than all I can do?
Cheerfully will I give him the best I have, and the most I am able to perform.
To give to Jesus, and labor for him, are my delight. He has my heart—and he
shall have my hand, my feet, my house, my all." And where all this while was
Mary? Eagerly availing herself of the precious opportunity afforded by the
presence of the Great Teacher, sitting at his feet to receive instruction. Such
a season might never return; and she was determined to make the best of it by
listening to every word the Savior said. Yet we are not to suppose that Martha
had not been at the Master’s feet at all, listening to any part of Christ’s
instructions, for it is said of Mary that "she also sat at Jesus’ feet and heard
his word," evidently implying that some other had been there also, which no
doubt was Martha; who, just then, like some of her sex, thinking of the house
and its duties while in the sanctuary and service of God—recollected the
provision which she supposed necessary, and somewhat abruptly rose up and
retired from the presence of Christ to the scene of her domestic solicitude,
leaving Mary to be feasted by Christ, while she goes to make a feast for him. "I
know not," says the good bishop already quoted, "how to censure the holy woman
for an excess of care to welcome her Savior."

How apt are we to measure other people’s sense of propriety, and rightness of
conduct, by our own—and to blame them for not exercising their religion and
expressing their love and obedience to Christ in our mode! Mary perhaps wondered
that Martha could on any ground whatever cease to listen to the instruction of
Christ, while Martha wondered no less that Mary could sit still and be a learner
when she ought to have been active as a provider. Martha would be ready to blame
Mary for her lack of love to Jesus by not caring for his refreshment; while Mary
would be apt to blame Martha for the lukewarmness of her regard, in not eagerly
catching every word that fell from his lips. Let us learn that those may equally
love Christ, who do not take exactly the same mode of showing it. Goodness is
very ingenious, and while it is uniform in essentials, is multiform in
circumstantials.

After waiting some time and expecting Mary to come out and assist her, and often
perhaps casting a silent but reproachful look at Mary, as the door stood ajar,
and she remained still sitting at the feet of Jesus, Martha’s patience could
endure it no longer, and in unseemly haste, ruffled disposition, and irreverent
manner, she entered the room, and thus addressed herself to Christ. "Lord, don’t
you care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her to come and help
me." It was a sad speech, which in her cooler moments she must have condemned.
It was irreverent to Christ, for it accused him in an angry tone of neglect of
her comfort. It was unkind to her sister, for it implied that she was lacking
both in love to Christ and to herself. It was well she had one to deal with, who
knows our frame, and remembers we are but dust. Why did she appeal first to
Christ, and arraign her sister before him? Might she not have beckoned Mary
away, or whispered in her ear? Or why when she saw her so devoutly engaged, did
she not leave her to her rapt enjoyment, and say, "Happy sister, to be thus
enjoying your Lord’s presence and instructions—would I could feel at liberty
from these cares, and be at your side—but somebody must provide for the comfort
of the Master, and this belongs to me."

They are not always in the right who are most forward in their appeals to God.
Many are more anxious to get God on their side, than to be on the side of God.
We must take heed lest we expect Christ to espouse our unjust and groundless
quarrels. I am afraid there was in Martha’s mind at this time a little of that
envy and ill-will which is not infrequently felt by one person at witnessing the
superior piety of another. The more eminent religion of one professor is often
felt to be a reproach to those who are lukewarm and worldly, and is therefore
really in some cases the cause of ill-will and dislike.

We do not find that Mary uttered a syllable in reply to this vehement
accusation. I can fancy her lifting up her meek and invoking eye to the Savior,
with a look which seemed to say, "O my Lord, I leave the vindication of my love
to you and to my sister, in your hands." Gentle spirit! may we learn of you when
we are complained of for well-doing, to seal up our lips in silence, and to wait
until the manifestation of our innocence comes from above. And how surely will
Jesus undertake our cause, and bring forth our righteousness as the light, and
our judgment as the noon day. Christ when he might have retorted with keen and
cutting severity, replied only with a kind but faithful answer, in which he
first rebuked her, and then justified and commended her sister. The very
repetition of her name is instructive, as showing how serious Christ was in this
act of reproof—"Martha, Martha," as if he had said, "O woman, you are very
wrong." Though the wrongdoing was out of love to him, he reproved it; for as
many as he loves he rebukes and chastens. No faults, mistakes, or sins, are more
dangerous than those which originate in misdirected love; and none should be
more faithfully yet tenderly pointed out to those who commit them, as there are
none which the deceitfulness of the human heart will be so backward to see and
confess; none which it will be more ready to excuse and defend. The ill-directed
love of friends is sometimes more mischievous than the open hostility of foes.
Now observe the rebuke of Jesus. "You are anxious and troubled about many
things, but one thing is needful; your mind is full of unnecessary anxiety about
those domestic matters, and disturbed by restless agitation. And what you
discover on the present occasion is too much your accustomed on others. There is
one thing far more important and far more needful than all these matters, which
by losing the opportunity I now afford you of receiving instruction, you are
sadly neglecting, I mean the care and salvation of your immortal soul."

*It has been contended by some, that by the one thing needful, our Lord intended
to suggest to Martha, that instead of the abundance she was preparing, the many
varieties of food she was about to place upon the table, one dish only was
necessary. I will not deny that this might seem to harmonize with the
occasion—much less will I deny, that it would furnish on the part of our Lord, a
perpetual and merited rebuke to unnecessary and sinful care, trouble, and
expense on the part of professing Christians, to provide costly entertainments
for their friends. Good John Newton has some admirable remarks on the subject of
entertainments given to Ministers. "Some of us would be better pleased, whatever
kindness our friends design to show us, to be treated less sumptuously, and in a
way more conformable to the simplicity of our Christian profession. We would not
wish to be considered as avowed epicures, who cannot dine well without a variety
of delicacies; and if we could suppose that such cost and variety were designed
to remind us how much better we fare abroad than at home, we might think it
rather an insult than a compliment." The criticism however which would make our
Lord refer to such things is obviously a false one—for as Mary’s conduct is
opposed to that of Martha’s, that which she chose, the good part, must be the
same as the one thing needful; and if the one thing needful means one dish,
Mary’s good part must also be one dish, which she chose or provided, rather than
the many which her sister was intent upon. But the suggestion of such a meaning
is trifling with Scripture rather than explaining it.

Having rebuked Martha, our Lord next vindicates her sister, whom she had so
severely and unmeritedly reproached. "Mary has chosen that good part which
cannot be taken from her." By the good part we are to understand her sitting at
Christ’s feet to hear his words, rather than bustling about domestic affairs.
That was the good part for the moment, but I believe our Lord meant to extend
his meaning in what he said to each of the sisters, to their habitual character
and conduct; and as he intended when he said to Martha, that she was too anxious
and too much troubled about many things—to describe her usual temperament. So
when he said that Mary had chosen the good part, he designed to describe her
uniform attention to the high and sacred concern of religion, and to represent
her as one who had given herself to the pursuit of eternal salvation. This was
matter of choice, and neither of compulsion nor of unintelligent and heartless
formality. She voluntarily took up a life of piety—and in doing this had secured
an inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled, and that fades not away. I reserve for
the conclusion of the chapter some remarks on this description of true piety.

How difficult it is to inflict reproof and not excite anger—and to bestow
deserved praise without doing mischief by inflating vanity! No such injury was
done in this case. The effect, both of the censure and of the praise, appears to
have been beneficial; for in a subsequent chapter of this scriptural history, to
which we shall presently have occasion to refer, we find the two sisters as
united in affection as ever, and Martha considerably improved.

I shall now attempt an analysis and discriminating delineation of the CHARACTER
of these two sisters. I have already remarked that they were in one, and that
the most important, feature alike—they were both pious women, they both loved
Christ. And what is religion without love to the Savior? In making the inquiry
after true piety, fix your attention, concentrate your thoughts, terminate your
researches, settle your conclusions, on this simple but comprehensive idea—it is
a scriptural, supreme, practical, grateful love to Christ. This Martha, as we
have already asserted, undoubtedly possessed, as well as Mary. She, too,
notwithstanding her failings, could have returned the same answer as did Peter,
"Lord, you know all things, you know that I love you." Underneath the
superficial earthliness of that anxious and troubled mind, there burnt a sacred
fire of strong attachment to the Savior. With this sameness of general
character, there were circumstantial differences. Just as we have seen two
flowers springing from the same root, possessing the same general
characteristics, yet one bending towards the earth while the other stands erect
and opens its petals more expansively to the sun. Martha and Mary are the
exemplars of the peculiarities of two distinct varieties of character and
religious tendencies. One the type of a naturally energetic—the other of a
quiescent mind. One exhibiting excellence in action—the other in repose. One a
life busily devoted to externals—the other careful only for her own religious
instruction, as the one thing needful. In the one we see the contemplative
Christian musing and feeding in silence upon holy thoughts, and looking up in
rapt meditation into heaven—in the other we see the practical Christian, now
lavishing her indefatigable cares upon a brother whom she loves, and now
ministering in ordinary life to a Savior whom she adores; invoking him in the
bitterness of grief, and blessing him in the joy of deliverance. In one, too
much of the busy, careful, anxious housewife—in the other, perhaps too much of
the contemplative quiescent devotee.

You cannot mistake all this—it is patent to every reader. There was much that
was good and useful in Martha’s character. She possessed great quickness,
alertness, and energy, with practical ability and good sense, which qualified
her both for taking a lead herself and for giving an impulse to others; so that
she was well fitted for going through with any work to be done, and was always
awake to the common calls and the common cares of the ordinary domestic routine
of life. And more than this, she was well prepared to work her own way, and to
help others, in those emergencies of trouble and of difficulty which not
infrequently occur in the changeful scene of human existence. It is a blessed
temperament, my young friends, to have that noble hardihood, untiring energy,
and undaunted boldness of character, which can grapple with difficulty, surmount
obstacles, and instead of being crushed by misfortune, can rise triumphant above
it. But such a temperament has its dangers, and Martha fell into them. She was
impetuous, irritable, intolerant, and somewhat rude. She was angry that others
were not as energetic as herself, a common fault with people of such a turn of
mind. She could not make allowance for differences of disposition. She was
however an excellent woman after all.

"Mary was characterized by more depth of thought, more reflection, more
sensibility. She was more easily engrossed by an affecting scene or any
spiritual subject; more alive at any time to one single profound impression, and
apt to be abstracted from other concerns."

We see the characteristics of these two sisters brought out in an affecting
scene in their after history, to which I will now advert, and for the
particulars of which I refer you to the eleventh and twelfth chapters of the
gospel by John. Sickness in an alarming form entered this little family at
Bethany, and arrested Lazarus. Jesus was at that time in Bethabara, about thirty
miles from Bethany. In the agony of their grief the sisters dispatched a
messenger to him, under the supposition that he would come and restore their
brother to health. Lazarus, it would seem, expired soon after the messenger
left. On receiving the information, Christ, who knew all about the matter, and
also what he would do, lingered where he was, two whole days in order that the
miracle which he was about to work, might, from the circumstance of the longer
continuance of death, be the more signal and convincing. At length he set out
for Bethany. Observe in this act his usual mercy, to travel on foot thirty miles
to restore a dead man. How delightful is it thus to trace the Savior in his
journeys, justifying the description which is given of him, as one, "who ever
went about doing good."

Martha was the first to receive information of his approach on this occasion to
Bethany, either because as the manager of the house the news was first conveyed
to her, or because from her bustling and active disposition she was most likely
to hear of it. And now, acting according to her character, she lost not a
moment, but immediately hastened forth to meet her Lord, to render him the
offices of courtesy and respect, to inform him of the calamity that had befallen
them, to pour out to him the sorrows of her heart, and to receive the
expressions of his sympathy. She was thus, as ever, ready to be up and doing.
But Mary, either not being informed of the coming of Jesus, or absorbed in a
deeper grief, sat still in the house and waited for the entrance of the
Comforter. This intensity of sorrow did not escape the notice of the Jews—hence
when at length she arose at the call of her sister to go forth and meet her
Lord, they said, "She is going unto the grave to weep there." They said this
from a knowledge of her character, for they made no such remark on Martha when
she went forth. She might be bent on other errands. Mary could go, only to weep.

It is well observed by Candlish, in his discourse on this subject—"In different
circumstances the same natural temperament may be either an advantage or a
snare. Martha was never so much occupied in the emotion of one subject or scene,
as not to be on the alert and ready for the call to another. This was a
disadvantage to her when she was so hurried that she could not withdraw herself
to wait upon the Word of Life. It is an advantage to her now, that she can, with
comparative ease, shake off her depression, and hasten of her own accord to meet
her Lord. The same profound feeling, again, which made Mary the most attentive
listener before, makes her the most helpless sufferer now—and disposes her
almost to nurse her grief, until Jesus, her best Comforter, sends specially and
emphatically to rouse her. Nor is it an insignificant circumstance that it is
the ever-active Martha who carries to her more downcast sister, the awakening
message; so ought sisters in Christ to minister to one another, and so may the
very difference of their characters make them mutually the more helpful." The
two sisters both deeply affected with a sense of their loss, meet their Lord,
and exhibit in this interview the same difference of character as pervades their
whole history. Martha’s grief is not so overwhelming as to prevent her
utterance; she is calm, cool, and sufficiently collected to enter into argument.
She can talk of her sorrow, can refer to her loss, can express her faith, and
even modestly suggest to Christ, in a delicate and covert manner—the possibility
of his restoring her brother. It was different with Mary. In piety she is of
course equal to her sister, but in composure and serenity she is inferior. Her
gentle spirit is paralyzed with grief. All she can do is to cast herself
prostrate at the feet of Christ, all she can say, is to sob out, "Lord, if you
had been here my brother would not have died!"

We cannot pass over one more characteristic, exquisitely delicate and true to
nature. Jesus, having asked where Lazarus had been laid, is conducted to the
grave, which was a cave with a stone upon it, and he gives orders to take away
the stone. It was not Mary who offered the objection founded on the commencement
of decay, she is silent still in the unutterable agony of her grief, and the
deep reverence of her soul before the Lord. But Martha’s marked officiousness
makes her forward when it might have been more befitting to be silent and to
stand in awe.

Candlish, with nice and just discrimination, points out the wise and considerate
manner, which will be observed by every judicious critical reader of the
narrative, in which Christ adapts his behavior towards the two sisters. Martha’s
distress was of such a nature that it admitted of discussion and discourse.
Jesus accordingly spoke to her and led her to speak to him, and made to her, as
suited her circumstances, some of his most sublime communications touching the
resurrection of the body and the life of the soul. While to Mary, who is wrapped
in such deep grief, he shows his sympathy in a different way. He is much more
profoundly moved. He does not reply to her in words, for her words are few.
Sorrow has choked her utterance and over-mastered her soul. But the sight of one
so dear to him, lying in such helpless grief at his feet, is an appeal to him
far stronger than any supplication. And his own responsive sigh is an answer
more comforting than any promise. "When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who
had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and
troubled." And when he had asked of the bystanders, where they had laid him, and
received the reply, "Come and see," like Joseph, "he could no longer refrain
himself," "Jesus wept."

O most blessed mourner, with whose tears your Savior mingles his own! O sympathy
most unparalleled! To each of the two stricken and afflicted ones, our Lord
addressed the very consolation that was most congenial. With Martha, Jesus
discoursed and reasoned—with Mary, "Jesus wept." It is thus he who knows our
frame adapts the communications of his grace, as our temperament and
circumstances most need them.

Before we leave this scene of domestic grief, and pass to another incident in
the history of Martha and Mary, shall we not turn aside to see this great sight
exhibited in the conduct of Jesus? I know I am giving the history of Martha and
Mary, but was not Christ so blended with it as to form a part of it, and to
constitute the glory of it? Shall I take you to the grave of Lazarus, point you
to the mourning sisters, and omit to notice the weeping Savior? Shall I pass
over that short but wondrous verse, which tells us with such sublime simplicity,
Jesus wept? Every view of Christ is glorious; whether reigning upon his throne
in the glory he had with the Father before the world was; or agonizing in the
garden, when he sweat as it were great drops of blood; or hanging upon the cross
the great sacrifice for sin; or rising from the grave with the keys of death and
of Hades at his belt; or ascending to his glory amid the retinue and
acclamations of angels. Now all these manifestations produce feelings of awe and
wonder. But oh, his weeping at the grave of Lazarus! The Son of God in tears,
not as on the Mount of Olivet, when he signed the death-warrant of Jerusalem,
and looked onward from the destruction of the guilty city, to the torments of
eternity, of which its fires and plagues were a dark type. No! his tears on this
occasion were those of human tenderness, the exquisite sympathy of his noble and
perfect manhood with the afflictions of those whom he loved. How many lessons
are taught us by those tears. Have they not vindicated and defended humanity
from the insults and injuries of stoicism, and made ’chastened sorrow’ one of
its genuine workings? Have they not consecrated sympathy as one of the virtues
of humanity? Have they not made tenderness the adornment of greatness? Have they
not raised friendship to the rank of a Christian excellence? Have they not
proved that he has not the mind of Christ, who knows not how to weep for the
woes of our nature? Jesus wept. There were critics in ancient times who with
ruthless fingers cancelled this verse, as thinking it beneath the dignity of
Jesus to weep. Barbarian critics! stoical scholars! you would have robbed the
Scriptures of one of their brightest gems, and despoiled the character of the
Savior of one of its richest beauties. But now after this graceful episode, let
us pass on to one more scene in the history of this happy, holy family. About
four months after the resurrection of Lazarus, a supper was given to our Lord
and his disciples (most likely on account of the resurrection of Lazarus, who
with his sisters were perhaps relations of the host), by a man named Simon, who
had been a leper, and had in all probability been healed by Christ. At this
supper Lazarus and Martha and Mary were present. Here also we find the contrast
existing between the characters of the two sisters, maintained with unbroken
continuity and unvarying uniformity. Martha, ever active, ever generously
attentive to the comforts of others, ever to be found where energy is required,
"served." She had assisted in the preparation, and now busies herself in waiting
upon the guests, and especially upon the most distinguished of them all, her
Lord and Master whom she loved. Not so with Mary; in that assembly all were
forgotten by her but one, on whom she gazed long with the silent rapture of love
and devotion, waiting and watching for her opportunity to give him a meditated,
practical, and personal expression of her adoring gratitude and affection.

While, according to the custom of the times, he was reclining at table on his
couch (not sitting upright as we do on chairs), she stole behind him, and
unrestrained by the presence of the guests, brought an alabaster box of
spikenard, and with it anointed the feet of Jesus and then wiped his feet with
her hair. She gave him her most costly article, and employed for him the most
ornamental part of her person. For who that loves Christ will not give him the
richest and best of their possessions? Was not this Mary all over? Sensibility,
gratitude, affection? Does it not harmonize with the listener and mourner whom
we have already witnessed? From one of the company, I mean the traitor who sold
his master for thirty pieces of silver, this act of pious affection and
liberality drew forth a censure, and under a hypocritical profession of concern
for the poor, he expressed his regret that the precious ointment had not been
sold and given to the fund for charity. Ah, how often has a plea of charity
served as a cloak for covetousness! True it is, as a general principle, that
great expense in external magnificence, even when designed to honor Christ,
would most commonly be better employed in feeding and clothing his members; but
there are some extraordinary occasions when some sort of profusion is not to be
blamed. And everything which is given to Christ is acceptable to him when, as in
this case, it is love that gives it. Happy is the person who knows like Mary to
make that an offering and expression of love to the Savior, which in her days of
worldliness and folly she has offered at the shrine of vanity.

Jesus becomes her vindicator against the cavils of Judas, and pronounced a
eulogy which the loftiest monarch on earth might covet to receive, "She has done
what she could." Of how few can this be said—and yet what lower rule of conduct
ought any of us to prescribe for himself than this? Is less than what we can do
for Christ, enough to do for him? Have you ever weighed in seriousness of mind
this noble testimony, "She has done what she could." What can you do for Christ?
What have you done? What ought you to do? What will you do? Be Mary’s memorial
yours. And to what renown did it raise her? "Wherever this gospel shall be
preached throughout the whole world, this also that she has done shall be spoken
of for a memorial of her." How literally has this been fulfilled. Wherever the
Bible has gone, in one hundred and fifty languages, this has been published to
the world. And all nations will know of Mary’s alabaster box of ointment
consecrated to Jesus, and will venerate her memory for this act of pious zeal.
The world is a poor judge in matters relating to God; and God takes delight in
honoring those actions, done in love to him, which the world ridicules. Happy
are those who are content with the approbation of him who sees the heart. The
contradictions and groundless censures of men pass away like the clouds that
occasionally veil the sun; but the good actions which are the subject of their
envy or their calumny, will remain forever, splendid as the great luminary
itself. Good works embalm the memory with an odor more precious and lasting than
the perfume of Mary’s spikenard.

Reference has been made to this incident, and especially to the praise bestowed
by our Lord upon Mary, to prove that the contemplative life is more acceptable
in the sight of God than the active life. It is this mistaken notion which led
to the establishment of conventional institutions; a system which is no less
opposed to the dictates of revelation than it is to the impulses of nature and
the welfare of society; which does violence to humanity in order to do honor to
Christianity; which stifles all the instinctive yearnings of the heart under the
pretext of giving better opportunity for the exercises of devotion; and which,
as a natural and necessary consequence, has deposited a muddy soil of immorality
upon the surface of Christendom, where the fruits of righteousness cannot grow,
though the weeds of superstition may flourish with a dense luxuriance. The
supposition that superior sanctity attaches to celibacy, on the one hand, is one
of the supports on which the whole Papal system rests, and on the other has been
the cause of more abomination in the world than any other single opinion
claiming to have a religious sanction. That the history before us will furnish
no support to this system is evident. Mary, neither at the time spoken of was a
nun, nor did she ever become such. Hers was a piety that blended with, and
sanctified, the duties of social life. Whatever was her devotional taste and
disposition, it did not drive her from her home, nor cut the ties of her
relationships. The design of our Lord’s language is not so much to form a
comparison between two courses of life, so separate and distinct as not to allow
of the mixture of one with the other—as to administer a rebuke to a person who
pursuing one course had too much neglected the other. Not to prevent Mary from
attending at all to temporal matters—but to engage Martha to less anxiety about
them, and to a stricter regard to things unseen and eternal. And now, my young
friends, what in the review of this beautiful little narrative do I recommend?
Which of the two characters do I enjoin you to imitate? I answer, all that was
excellent in both—without the imperfections of either. Martha’s household
diligence, without her excessive anxiety, united with Mary’s fervent devotion,
without her somewhat excessive sensibility. So far as it could be said of
Martha, "She looked well to the ways of her household," let my female friends
imitate her due attention to home duties, her cleverness, her diligence, her
dispatch, her generous attention to the comfort of her guests, especially those
who represent their Lord. Let them be skilled in all the important functions of
good housewifery. Let them, if wives, know how to make home comfortable for
their husbands; if mothers, for their children; and if widely connected, for
their friends. Hospitality is a virtue which should never be lacking in a female
heart. She who will not seek to please her husband’s friends, but receives them
with a frown, will soon learn to leave off pleasing him, and make their home
unhappy for all parties. But then, let all this be without anxiousness, and with
that graceful and pleasant ease, which will be ensured by order, method,
punctuality, and efficiency.

There are various kinds of slavery in the world, and many classes of victims of
this cruel bondage. There is among others, the domestic slave, whose tyrant is
her husband, and the scene of her bondage, her home. His is very stingy, and
allows her scanty supplies for necessities. His selfishness is so engrossing and
exacting, that his demands for his own personal ease and indulgence are
incessant, and leave her no time for the consideration of her own comfort—and
withal, his disposition is so bad, that all her diligence to please are
unavailing to give him satisfaction, and to avert the sallies of his
irritability, discontent, and complaints. When such a man protests against
Negro-slavery, let him begin the work of emancipation at home, by raising the
oppressed woman he holds in bondage there, from the condition of a drudge, into
the station of a wife. How can she help being anxious and troubled about many
things? But then there are cases, not a few, in which the slavery is
self-imposed. The bondage comes from the wife herself, from which the husband
would gladly release her, but she will not let him. Some are slaves to neatness,
and make their fidgety anxiety about this matter a misery to themselves and all
around them. Others are slaves to fashion, and are always anxious and troubled
about elegance and refinement. Others are slaves to domestic display, parties
and amusements, and are always full of anxiety about making a splendid
appearance. Others are slaves to frugality, and are ever vexing themselves to
economize. In these ways women will torment themselves and fill their minds with
unnecessary cares and self-imposed troubles. To all such we say, "Martha,
Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things." With Martha’s better
qualities, her domestic cleverness and diligence—unite the fervent piety of
Mary. Will you be satisfied with that excellence which fits you only to fill up
your place in a habitation from which you may be called away any hour? Be as
diligent, I entreat you, in business, as Martha was—but be also as fervent in
spirit, serving the Lord, as Mary was. Seek to unite all the holy virtues of the
eminent saint—with all the household excellences of the good wife, mother, and
manager. Be all you should be in your own house—and all you ought to be in the
house of God. What your husbands, when you have them, will desire and expect, is
to see you at your post of duty in the family. Meet their desires and fulfill
these expectations. You ought—you must! What Christ desires and expects, is to
see you sitting at his feet and hearing his word. Meet these desires and
expectations also. You ought—you must!

Study the following portrait of a good wife, a cultivated mind, and a sincere
Christian, drawn by the pen of Jane Taylor.

"And she whose nobler course is seen to shine At once with human knowledge and
divine; Who mental culture, and domestic rites, In close and graceful amity
unites. Striving to keep them in their proper place, Not interfering with her
heavenly race; Whose constant aim it is, and fervent prayer, On earthly ground
to breathe celestial air."

O! you too anxious and careful housewives, lessen your solicitude. "Be anxious
for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, let your requests be
made known unto God." The spirit and influence of vital piety will soften the
cares of domestic life, and alleviate its sorrows, where they exist, and inspire
an alacrity which will make you go cheerfully about the business of the
family—while well regulated attention to domestic duties, so far from unfitting
you for the exercise of devotion, will furnish the subjects of your prayers, and
prompt the approaches of your soul to God. And now, in conclusion, let me
exhibit to you the description of true religion, as set forth in the language of
Christ to Martha. It is indispensable, "One thing is needful." Yes, SAVING
RELIGION is indeed needful. Mark the restriction and emphasis, ONE thing—and it
deserves this emphasis. It is a matter of universal concern; necessary for all
alike; for the rich and the poor; for the young and the old; for male and
female. Some things are necessary for one person, but not for another—saving
religion is necessary for all alike. It is in itself a matter of the highest
importance, of infinite consequence, compared with which all the most valuable
objects of time and sense are but as the small dust of the balance! Saving
religion will promote every other lawful and valuable interest on earth. It has
been pronounced indispensable by those who are most capable of giving an
opinion. God has declared it to be needful, by giving his only-begotten Son to
die for it upon the cross. Jesus Christ has declared it to be needful, by
enduring the agonies of the cross to obtain it. Angels have pronounced it
needful by their solicitude for the salvation of men. Apostles, martyrs,
reformers, missionaries, and ministers have given their emphatic testimony to
its necessity by their labors, prayers, tears, and blood. Your own judgment, in
the cooler moments of reflection, declares its necessity; so does your
conscience when you are listening to sermons, or suffering affliction—so does
your heart, when the world stands revealed before you in its vanity, emptiness,
and deceit.

Saving religion is needful now in youth to be your guide; it will be no less so
as your comforter amid the vicissitudes of life; your prop under the infirmities
of old age—your living hope amid the agonies of dying hours; your defense in the
dreadful day of judgment; and your preparation for the felicities of heaven.
Must not that which alone can do this, be indispensable, and be in fact the one
thing needful?

Dwell, I beseech you, upon this representation. If saving religion were as
miserable and as melancholy as your mistaken notions of it represent, yet it is
needful. It is not what you may not have, and yet do well without it—a
superfluity, but not a necessary. No! It is needful. Nothing else can be
substituted for it, or in the smallest degree compensate for the lack of it. In
the absence of saving religion, you lack the most necessary thing in the
universe—you are really poor—even amid abounding wealth.

Saving religion is the only thing that is indispensable. There are many other
things which are desirable, valuable, pleasurable, and may be lawfully pursued;
but they are not indispensable. Saving religion is absolutely so to secure solid
happiness here and eternal felicity hereafter. O, young people, call in your
vagrant thoughts, your discursive inquiries, your divided and scattered
activities, and concentrate them upon this one thing. Settle it with yourselves,
that whatever else you may not have, you must have saving faith. It is well at
the outset of life to be informed, by an authority which is infallible, what is
most necessary for the pilgrim upon earth. Let me entreat you to remember your
own interest in it; it is necessary for you, whose eye shall read this page. Do
therefore inquire, solemnly and seriously enquire, into your own conduct in
reference to it. Say to yourselves, "Have I thought seriously about saving
religion? Have I seen the importance of it? Has it lain with a due and an
abiding weight upon my mind? Has it brought me in penitence, prayer, and faith,
to Christ as my Savior? Am I acting in life as if I considered saving religion
the one thing needful. Am I striving or willing to make everything subordinate
to it, my interests, my tastes, my pleasures, my passions?" And then how
transcendently excellent is true religion. It is the "good part which shall
never be taken from us." Excellent it is, in every view we can take of it, for
it is the reception of the first truth, and the enjoyment of the chief good. It
makes us good—for it makes us like God; and brings good to us—for it leads us to
enjoy God. It was the bliss of Adam in Paradise, and is the happiness of the
spirits made perfect in heaven. It is the beginning of heaven upon earth, and
will be the consummation of heaven when we have left earth. It is far better
than knowledge, wealth, fame, or pleasure—for it will stand by us when all these
things leave us!

Yes, it is, "the good part, which can never be taken from us." Neither force nor
fraud can deprive us of this. It is above the vicissitudes of life, and
unaffected by the changes of fortune. Oh, it is glorious to think of our
possessing something that bids defiance to all the assaults of men or demons! Go
where you will—saving religion will go with you. It will be as inseparable from
you. How much then is included in that precious declaration, "The good part
which cannot be taken from you," which shall remain with you, in you, for
you—when friends have left you—health has left you—fortune has left you—a
portion all-sufficient, inalienable, eternal!

True religion is a voluntary thing, "Mary has chosen that good part which cannot
be taken from her." It is not the external compulsion of authority, nor the
internal compulsion of fear—but the free choice of love. It is not mere blind,
unintelligent ritual—an unmeaning, heartless round of ceremonies, performed
without motive or design. No, it is the free-will offering of the soul to God,
who says, "Give me your heart!" and to whom the soul replies, "I give myself to
you!" Where there is no choice, there is no religion. Hence the language of
Moses to the children of Israel, "I call heaven and earth to record this day
against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and
cursing—therefore choose life, that both you and your seed may live." So it is
with you at this moment.

There on the one hand is true religion with all its duties and its
privileges—its present enjoyments and its future eternal happiness, this is
life, the life of the soul now, and eternal life hereafter. There on the other
hand is ungodliness, with all its sins and sorrows here, and its unutterable and
eternal miseries hereafter. There are you so fearfully and wonderfully placed
between the two. And I am (O, solemn and momentous position!) urging you by
every motive that can appeal to your reason, your heart, your conscience, and
even your self-love—to urge you to choose life. You must make your choice. You
cannot evade the choice. One or the other must be yours. Were you to attempt
neutrality, it is impossible. Those that do not choose life, are considered by
God as choosing death. By what witnesses are you surrounded in this crisis of
your being! What spectators are looking on upon this eventful scene of your
history! Parents are waiting, watching, and praying for your decision on the
side of eternal life. With silent, breathless earnestness, they are agonizing
for your soul and her destiny. Ministers are fixing their minds intently upon
your situation, and in yearning anxiety for your welfare are saying, "O that
they may choose the good part which can never be taken from them." Angels with
benevolence hover over you, ready to commence their benevolent activities, and
become as ministering spirits to your salvation. Devils with malignity are
collecting to rejoice, with such delight as demons can experience, in your
choice of death. Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are waiting, witnessing, and ready
to assist your election. Yes, such value is there attaching to one human soul;
with such importance is its decision for the choice or refusal of religion
invested—that heaven, earth, and hell are in some measure moved by the scene of
its being called to choose between life and death, and thus three worlds are
interested in the outcome. Make then your choice. Pause, ponder, and pray; it is
a choice which eternity will confirm to your unutterable torment—or to your
ineffable felicity. Almighty God, direct their choice!


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  CHAPTER 85: 06.11.     TO YOUNG MOTHERS
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TO YOUNG MOTHERS

"I have been reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your
grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you
also." 2 Timothy 1:5

"Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be
slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can
train the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be
self-controlled and pure, to be keepers at home, to be kind, and to be subject
to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God." Titus 2:3-5

What associations with all that is lovely are connected with that blissful word,
a mother! To that sound the tenderest emotions of the human heart—whether in the
bosom of the savage or the sage, wake up. The beauty of that term is seen, and
its power felt, alike by the prince and the peasant—the rustic and the
philosopher. It is one of the words which infant lips are first taught to
lisp—and the charm of which the infant heart is first to feel. It is a note to
the music of which it is difficult to say whose soul most responsively
vibrates—that of the parent or the child. Humanity, however semi-brutalized by
oppression, by ignorance, or even by vice, has rarely been sunk so low as to
have the last spark of maternal love extinguished—or the last sensibility of
this kind crushed out of it. This strength of woman’s love to her child must be
turned to good account, and be directed in its exercises to the best and most
useful purposes. There is this difference, and it is a momentous one, between
the maternal care of the animals and that of woman; in animals it goes no
further than provision and protection—training forms no part of it. The same
power which endowed the beasts with the habits which belong to its nature,
endows also its offspring. The latter, without any pains bestowed on its
education, or any solicitude cherished for its welfare, will learn the lessons
of its existence by the instincts of nature, and be capable of rising to its
specific perfection, unaided either by parent or teacher. Not so the young of
the human species; they also require provision and protection. But more than
this they need instruction. And who must be their instructor? First of all, and
chief of all—their mother. But before we reason and descant upon the subject of
a mother’s duties, let us look at facts. It is universally admitted that
scarcely any great man has appeared in our world who did not owe much, if not
most, in the formation of his character—to his mother’s influence. In a very
useful little volume, by Jabez Burns, entitled "The Mothers of the Wise and
Good," there is a series of biographical memorials of eminent sons of pious and
judicious mothers, amounting to about fifty, among whom are included Alfred the
Great, Lord Bacon, Sir Isaac Newton, Dr. Samuel Johnson, Sir William Jones, and
George Washington, among the illustrious of this world. While Augustine,
Jonathan Edwards, Dr. Doddridge, Dr. Dwight, Mr. Newton, Mr. Cecil, Leigh
Richmond, and many other eminent Christians—all of them blessed with pious or
eminently judicious mothers, to whom they owed their eminence in the church or
in the world. At a pastoral conference, held not long since, at which about one
hundred and twenty American clergymen, united in the bonds of a common faith,
were assembled, each was invited to state the human instrumentality to which,
under the Divine blessing, he attributed his conversion. How many of these,
think you, gave the honor of it to their mother? Of one hundred and twenty—more
than one hundred! Here then are facts, which are only selected from myriads of
others, to prove a mother’s power, and to demonstrate at the same time her
responsibility. But how shall we account for this? What gives her this
influence? What is the secret of her power? Several things.

First, there is no doubt the ordinance of God. He who created us, and formed the
ties of social life, and who gave all the sweet influences and tender
susceptibilities of our various relationships, appointed that a mother’s power
over the soul of her child should be thus powerful. It is God’s ordinance, and
the woman who forgets or neglects this, is disobedient to a Divine institute.
God has made the child to be peculiarly susceptible of the mother’s power over
his mind and heart.

Then comes a mother’s LOVE, which is stronger, at any rate more tender, than a
father’s. There is more of intuitiveness, if not of reason, in her affection.
She has had more to do with the physical being of her child, having borne him in
her womb, and fed him from her bosom, and watched him in his cradle—all this
naturally and necessarily generates a feeling which nothing else can produce.
Now love is the great motive-power in, and for, human conduct. "I drew them,"
said God, "with cords of a man, with bands of love." Here is the true philosophy
of both man’s natural constitution and of evangelical religion. Human nature is
made to be moved and governed by love—to be drawn with the cords of affection,
rather than to be dragged with the chains of severity. And woman’s heart is made
to love! Love is exerted more gently, sweetly, and constrainingly upon her
child, by her than by the other sex. It makes her more patient, and more
ingenious, and therefore, more influential. Her words are more soft, her smile
more winning, her frown more commanding, because less alarming and repulsive.
The little floweret she has to nurture, opens its petals more readily to the
mild beams of her countenance. Hence, to repeat an expression of Monod, already
quoted, "The greatest moral power in the world is that which a mother exercises
over her young child." Nor is there much exaggeration in that other expression,
"She who rocks the cradle—rules the world." An expression, the truth of which
will appear to be founded on the next particular. The mother has most to do with
the character, while yet in the flexible state in which it receives its shape.
The earliest exercises of thought, emotion, will, and conscience, are all
carried on under her eye. She has to do not only with the body in its infancy,
but with the soul in its childhood. Both mind and heart are in her hands at that
period, when they take their first start for good or for evil. The children
learn to lisp their first words, and to form their first ideas, under her
teaching. They are almost always in her company, and are insensibly to
themselves and imperceptibly to her, receiving a right or wrong bias from her!
She is the first ’model of character’ they witness—the first exhibitions of
right and wrong in practice are what they see in her. They are the constant
observers of the passions, the graces, the virtues, and the faults—which are
shown in her words, disposition, and actions. She is therefore unconsciously to
herself educating them, not only by designed teaching—but by all she does or
says in their presence!

Children are imitative creatures. During their early years, imitation is the
regent of the soul, and they who are least swayed by ’reason’, are most governed
by ’example’. Learning to talk is the effect of imitation—not intuition. And as
children so early and so insensibly learn to repeat sounds, so may they also
learn to copy actions and habits. This applies to the mother in a fuller sense
than it does to the father of course, just because she is more constantly with
the children in the early stages of their existence. It is therefore of immense
importance that everyone who sustains this relation should have an accurate idea
of her own great power over her children. She should be deeply and duly
impressed with the potency of her influence. This has peculiar force in
reference to the mothers of the middle class, and still more to those of the
working classes. In the upper circles of society, the task of educating the
infant, is usually is entrusted upon servants. The nursery is not much, it is to
be feared, the resort of many titled or wealthy mothers. Aristocratic habits, in
some cases, can scarcely be made to square with maternal ones. Happy are the
women who are not lifted by rank or wealth out of the circle of those tender and
constant diligences which an infant family requires—out of whose hand
’fashionable etiquette’ or ’luxurious indolence’ has not taken her
responsibility to train her young children.

Mothers then should be thoroughly acquainted with the work that is allotted to
them. I speak not of the physical training of the children, that is not my
department; nor primarily of their intellectual culture—but of their social,
moral, and spiritual education. A mother’s object and duty, are the formation of
character. She has not merely to communicate knowledge—but habits. Her especial
department is to cultivate the heart—and to regulate the life. Her aim must be
not only what her children are to know, but what they are to be and do. She is
to look at them as the future members of society, and heads of families of their
own—but above all as probationers for eternity! This, I repeat, must be taken up
as her primary work—the formation of character for both worlds!

Teacher and tutors will most probably be employed in the future intellectual
training—but a mother’s part from infancy, is to form habits of godly character.

Many have no other idea of education than the communication of knowledge. Much
has been said of late years on the distinction between instruction and
education. They are by no means synonymous. The etymology of the two words is
worth considering. To "instruct," is derived from a Latin word, which signifies
"to put on," or "in." To instruct is therefore simply to put knowledge into the
mind. The word "educate," comes also from a Latin word, which signifies to lead
or draw forth. To educate, therefore, means to draw out the faculties of the
soul, to call into exercise and invigorate its intellectual and moral powers.
Both together constitute the duty of those who have to form the character. Ideas
must be poured in, and the recipient must be taught what to do with them.

We hear much said about ’educating children for worldly accomplishments’, which
may be well enough in their place and in their measure, but they are only
subordinate to something higher and better. They are not the whole of education,
nor even the best part of it. They are only the polish of the surface—there
should be solid gold for the substance. The intellectual part of our nature may
be considered as merely the casket—the moral part as the jewel. Yet many leave
the diamond uncut and unpolished, while they are careful to load its case with
tinsel! A mother should look upon her offspring with the idea, "That child has
to live in two worlds, and to act a part in both; and it is my duty to begin his
education for both, and to lay in infancy the foundation of his character—and
happiness for time and eternity too. What ought to be my qualifications, and my
diligence, for such a task?" Ah, what? Deep thoughtfulness certainly on the
momentous nature of your charge. It is a awesome responsibility to be a parent,
especially a mother, and to have the training of men and women—both for time and
for eternity! A distinguished philosopher has said that "all the world is but
the pupil and disciple of female influence!"

Every mother, therefore, has, so far as her individual influence goes, the world
for her scholar. O woman! your child’s welfare for all time and all eternity
too, depends much upon your conduct towards him during the period he is under
your influence in the first years of his being. To you is committed the care of
the infant’s body—the healthfulness, the vigor, and comfort of which for all his
future existence upon earth depend much upon you. What would be your feelings of
poignant remorse, if by any neglect of yours, if by a fall, or an accident, the
result of your carelessness, the poor babe was injured in his spine, or
distorted in his limbs! Oh! to see that young cripple injured for life in bodily
comfort—ever presenting to you the sad memorials of your guilty neglect!

Yet what is this to the sadder spectacle of a deformed and crippled soul—a
character distorted into crooked and frightful shapes, and to have the
tormenting reflection, that this was the result of your neglect! The poor child
in the former case may have his compensation in all the sweet influences and
consolations of saving faith—and the distressed mother may assuage the anguish
of remorse by the thought that her neglect may have been among the all things
that worked together for good to her son—but where in the latter case is
consolation to be obtained, or who can wonder that such a Rachel mourning over
her lost child, lost through her neglect, refuses to be comforted?

Qualify yourself for maternal duties above all things by sincere and eminent
piety. A mother should never forget that those little engaging creatures which
play about the room so gaily and so innocently, with all the unconsciousness of
childhood, are young immortals—beings destined to eternity—creatures placed on
earth on probation for heaven—and that much will depend upon her, whether the
everlasting ages shall be spent by them in torment or in bliss! This is an
overwhelming idea! One would almost think that solicitude about this matter
would be so overpowering as to extinguish parental delight. But a mother cannot
look at the babe that is feeding at her bosom, and smiling sweetly in her
face—as if it meant the thanks it had not yet learned to speak; or watch his
slumbers in his cradle, breathing as softly as if he lived without breathing at
all; and at the same time feel her soul shiver and shudder in the dark shadow
cast over her spirit by such a thought as "Oh, would you live to be a profligate
in this world—and a fiend in the eternal world!"

Instead of a reflection so harrowing to every maternal feeling, she exults in
the hope that the dear babe will be a holy, useful, happy Christian on earth—and
then a glorified immortal in heaven. Such reflections ought to be sometimes in
the mind of every parent. All should realize the sublime idea that their houses
are the schools for eternity; their children the scholars; themselves the
teachers; and evangelical religion the lesson. Yes, with every infant born into
the family comes the injunction from God, "Take this child and bring it up for
Me!" God sent this child into the world, to be trained up in the way he should
go—that is in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Those parents who neglect
the religious education of their children, whatever else they may impart, are
more guilty than Herod! He slew the children of others—they slay their own
children! He slew only the body—they slay the soul! He slew them by hired
assassins—they slay their children themselves! We shudder at the cruelties of
those who sacrificed their babes to Moloch; but how much more dreadful an
immolation do they practice, who offer up their sons and daughters to Satan, by
neglecting the education of their souls, and leaving them to grow up in
ignorance of God and their eternal destiny! But can any one, will any one,
teach, or teach effectually—that religion which she does not feel and practice,
herself? Therefore I say a mother’s heart must be deeply imbued with piety, if
she would teach it to her children. Without this, can she have the will to
teach, the heart to pray, the right to hope? Mothers, can you conceive of a
higher, nobler elevation to which in your maternal relation you can rise, than
when, to the opening mind of your wondering child, you give the first idea of
God? Or when you direct him to that divine babe who was born at Bethlehem; was
subject to his parents; and who died for sinners upon the cross? Or than when
you talk to them of heaven, the dwelling-place of God and of his angels?

O! to see the first look of holy inquisitiveness, and the first tear of infant
piety start in the eye; to hear the first question of concern, or the first
breathing of prayer from infant lips! How has many a woman’s heart amid such
scenes swelled with delight, until in an ecstasy of feeling she sank upon her
knees and breathed a mother’s prayer over the child of her heart, while he
looked wonderingly up and felt a mysterious power come over him which he could
neither fully express nor understand!

Mothers! Your religion, if it is genuine, will teach you at once the greatness
of the work, and your own insufficiency to perform it aright in your own
strength. Your business is to train mortals for earth, and immortal beings for
God, heaven, and eternity! Even an apostle in the view of such an object
exclaimed, "And who is sufficient for these things?" Your work, as to its
design, is the same as Paul’s. And you, like him, have to contend with the
depravity of your children’s nature—and all the difficulties arising from your
own weakness and sinfulness. A mistake either in your sentiments, your feelings,
or your example, may be fatal to your children’s eternal welfare. Cultivate,
then, a trembling consciousness of your own insufficiency, and cast yourselves
by believing, constant, and fervent prayer upon God. Be in an eminent sense,
praying mothers. Distrust yourselves—and by believing prayer, secure the aid of
Omnipotence. Do not forget what I have already said, that AFFECTION is the
golden key fitted by God, to the wards of the lock in every human heart—to the
application of which the bolts that nothing else could move, will fly back and
open with ease. Severity is out of place in any one, but most of all in woman.
But beware of allowing affection to degenerate into a fond and foolish
indulgence! A judicious love is as remote from pampering indulgence on the one
hand, as it is from moroseness and cruelty on the other. For if ’undue severity’
has slain its thousands, ’injudicious and pampering indulgence’ has slain its
tens of thousands! Fathers are apt to err in the former extreme—mothers in the
latter. And it not infrequently happens that these extremes are played off
against each other. The father afraid that the mother will spoil the child by
indulgence, adopts a harsh treatment to counteract the mischief of his wife’s
excessive fondness; while the wife compensates the child for the severity of the
husband by her own excessive attention to the child’s gratification. Thus, like
the sharp frost by night, and the hot sun by day, operating in spring to the
destruction of the blossom on which their antagonistic influences are made to
bear—the opposing treatment of the parents ruins the hapless child who is the
subject of it.

Still, while I enjoin affection, it must not be allowed to impair authority! A
parent must not be a tyrant—so neither must he be a slave to his children. It is
a painful, and, to the parents, a disgraceful spectacle—to see a family in a
state where rebellion reigns rampant—the father deposed, the scepter broken, and
the insurgent children possessed of sovereign rule! The mother, as well as the
father, must be obeyed—and it is her own fault if she is not! A persevering
system of government, where the reins are held tightly in the hand of love—will
be sure to produce submission at last! But it must be a mixture of kindness,
wisdom, and authority. Submission must be felt by a child to be a duty yielded
to authority—and not merely a compliance won by affection. Authority must not
stiffen into severity—nor love degenerate into coaxing. Commands must be
obeyed—not only because it is pleasant to obey them—but because it is right that
they should be obeyed. A judicious mother will exercise much discrimination, and
adapt her treatment to the disposition of her children. There are as many
varieties of temperament in some families as there are children. No two children
are precisely alike in their minds and character—any more than in their bodies.
One is forward and obtrusive, and should be checked and rebuked; another is
timid and retiring, and needs to be encouraged and emboldened. One is more
easily wrought upon by appeals to her hope; another by reasonings addressed to
her fear. One is too shy and reserved, and needs to have frankness and
communicativeness encouraged; another is too open and ingenuous, and should be
taught caution and self-restraint. Every child should be a separate study.
Quackery should be banished from the education of children—as well as from
medicine. One treatment will no more suit all minds—than one medicine or kind of
food all bodies. A woman who does not know the peculiar dispositions of all her
children, and does not adapt her treatment to them, is a very incompetent
mother! The woman who would fulfill the duties of her parental relationship,
must surrender herself to her mission, and be content to make some sacrifices,
and endure some privations. Who can witness the patient submission of the
mother-bird to her solitude and self-denial, during the term of
incubation—without admiration at the quiet and willing surrender which instinct
teaches her to make of her usual liberty and enjoyments? A woman must be
willing, for the sake of her children, to do under the influence of reason and
true religion, what the bird does from the unintelligent impulses of nature. Her
children are a charge for which she must forego some of the enjoyments of social
life, and even some of the social pleasures of religion.

She who would have a maternal power over her children, must give her company to
them. It is not for her to be ever craving after parties—or to feel it a
hardship that she is denied them. The secret of her beneficent influence lies in
making the home her chief delight and focus. Hence the exhortation of the
apostle in the text, to the matrons of his time, "Teach the young women to be .
. . keepers at home." I would not have a mother incarcerated in her own house,
so as never to go abroad or enter into company. She who is devoted to her family
needs occasional relaxation amid the pleasures of society, and especially the
exhilarating engagements of public worship.

There are some mothers who are such absolute slaves to their children that they
scarcely ever stir from home—even to the house of God. This is an error in one
extreme, which might be avoided by method and dispatch. But those run into an
opposite extreme who will not, even for the benefit of their children, give up a
social party or a public meeting. The woman who is not prepared to make many
sacrifices of this kind, for the sake of her children, and her home, and her
husband—should never think of entering into wedded life! Be ingenious,
inventive, and studious—as to the best method of gaining the attention, and
informing the minds of your children while young. There are too many who imagine
that education, and especially religious education, consists in just hearing a
chapter read, a catechism taught, or a hymn repeated—and that when this is done,
all is done. The memory is the only faculty they cultivate—the intellect,
affections, and conscience, are wholly neglected! A Christian mother should be
ingenious to invent the best mode of gaining attention and keeping it. The
illustrated works which in this fertile age are perpetually issuing from the
press, afford advantages for conveying both secular and sacred knowledge, of
which bygone times knew nothing. Be personal in your religious instruction. The
freedom of incidental spiritual conversation, rather than the formality of set
and stated lessons; the introduction of religious topics in the mundane aspects
of life—(rather than the grave and forbidding annunciation of a change from
secular to sacred subjects)—and the habit of referring all things to God, and
comparing the truths and maxims of the Bible with the events of every
hour—(rather than the forcing all things out of their channel when the season of
’family devotions’ returns)—these are the means of opening the avenues to the
youthful heart, and rendering religion, with its great Author, the object—not of
aversion or terror, nor only of cold and distant homage—but of mingled reverence
and love. "These words, which I command you this day, shall be in your heart—and
you shall teach them diligently unto your children, and shall talk of them when
you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and
when you rise up."

Mothers, invested as you are with such an influence, often dwell upon your
responsibility. With such a power conferred upon you by God, you are responsible
to your CHILDREN themselves. Every time their infant or adult voices repeat that
word, "My mother"—so sweet, so musical to your heart—they urge their claims upon
your best and most devoted attention. As it sounds in your ears it should awaken
the deepest emotions of your soul and the most faithful admonitions of your
conscience.

You are responsible to your HUSBANDS. They entrust the education of their
children to you. They seem to say, "We will work for their support, and leave
the early education of their minds to you. We will hereafter share all the
obligations of instruction and the care of their minds and characters with you,
but at present, while they are so young, we confide this duty upon you."

You are responsible to the CHURCH of God—for family education is, or ought to
be, in the families of the godly, the chief means of conversion. It is a fatal
error for Christian parents to look to the ministers of religion for the
conversion of their children. And, alas! it is the error of the day. The pulpit
is looked to, for those benefits which should flow from the parents’ chair. Our
churches have weighty and righteous claims upon parents, and especially upon
mothers. Nor does your responsibility stop here, for SOCIETY at large looks to
you for that beneficial influence which you are capable of exerting. I repeat
here the well-known anecdote, which I have given, I believe, in another work.
Napoleon once asked Madame Campan what the French nation most needed, in order
that her youth might be properly educated. Her reply was compressed in one word,
"Mothers!" And it was a wise reply. Not the French nation only—the world needs
them—Christian, intelligent, well-trained, devoted women, to whom the destinies
of the rising generation may be safely entrusted. The woman at whose domestic
hearth, and by whose judicious maternal love, a family of industrious and godly
sons—or of modest, kind-hearted, prudent, and pious daughters—is trained for
future life, is an ornament of her country—a benefactress to her species—and a
blessing to posterity. I again and emphatically say, Mothers, understand, feel,
and remember your responsibility! But hitherto, it may be said, the chapter does
not answer to its title as intended for, and addressed to, young mothers. I will
therefore now give it a special bearing upon their case. It has been my object,
first of all, to set forth the subject of maternal duty and responsibility in
its general aspect—apart from its relation to those to whom it is new—that they
may see it in its widest and most comprehensive bearing—before they are reminded
of its special bearing on their case. This, I am aware, will give the appearance
of a repetition in the second part of this chapter, of some things that were
advanced in the first. But such repetitions are sometimes beneficial. In
addition, therefore, to what has been said on maternal duties in general, I
shall now submit some other matters for your special consideration.

Too many, it is to be feared, enter upon this momentous business without
consideration, and, as might be expected, equally without preparation or
qualification. It is indeed a pitiable sight to look into the state of some
families, and behold the hapless condition of the poorly trained children who
have the misfortune to be in the hands of a weak, foolish, and incompetent
mother. Perhaps the cause may be traced one step further back, and it may be
found that they are incompetent, because their mothers were so before them. Thus
the mischief perpetuates itself from generation to generation. In all things it
is of importance to begin well. The beginning usually determines the progress
and the close. Errors, both in theory and practice, however long and
pertinaciously persisted in—may by intelligence, determination, and the blessing
of God—be corrected. Reformation would otherwise be hopeless. But how much
better and easier is it to avoid faults than to amend them! Many mothers have
seen their mistakes when it was too late to correct them. Their children had
grown up under the influence of a bad system of domestic government and maternal
guidance, and had acquired a fixedness of bad habit which no subsequent wisdom,
firmness, severity, or affection, could correct; and the parents had to pour out
bitter but unavailing regrets that they had not begun life with those views of
their duties with which they were closing it.

If a mother begins well—she is likely to continue well. And the same is true,
that if she begins badly—she is likely to continue badly. Her conduct towards
her first child is likely, of course, to determine her conduct with respect to
all the following ones. How momentous is it then, at this stage of her domestic
history, to weigh well, and solemnly, and prayerfully, her responsible
situation! Indeed it is quite clear that this subject ought not to be put off by
any wife until she becomes a mother. The very prospect ought to lead to a due
preparation for the expected new duties; for these commence with the earliest
anticipations of sustaining the maternal character. It behooves us to prepare
ourselves for any situation into which we have a confident expectation of soon
entering. Forethought is given to mankind for the purpose of meeting with
propriety the situation and duties to which we are expecting. The woman who
never studies maternal responsibilities and duties until she is called actually
to sustain them, is not very likely to do well in that very important
relationship.

Instinct will teach a parent bird, animal, fish, or insect, all that is
necessary for the well being of its young. But it is not so with human
parents—study, reflection, forethought, and determination are indispensable for
them. Unhappily a young wife, in prospect of giving birth to a child, is in some
cases so bowed down with an unnecessary solicitude about her own safety. Others
are so absorbed with the preparations which are made for the physical well-being
and the elegant furnishings of her promised baby, as to forget to prepare
herself for those more important duties which devolve upon her in relation to
the mind, and heart, and conscience, of the child. A mother who wishes to
fulfill her duties to her children should take especial pains to educate herself
for these momentous functions. She should read, to store her mind with
knowledge; she should reflect, observe, and gain useful information from every
quarter. Her principles should be fixed, her plans laid, her purposes formed.

She must cultivate all the habits and dispositions which will fit her to teach
and to govern. She must seek to acquire thoughtfulness, careful vigilance, quick
observation, and discretion in various forms. Habits of activity, efficiency,
order, and regularity—are indispensable for her; so is the exercise of all the
good and benevolent feelings. She must unite gentleness with firmness; and
attain patience and the entire command of her disposition. It is of immense
importance also that she should have a correct knowledge of human nature, and
the way of dealing with the human heart. And above all things, let her remember
that piety is the vivifying spirit of all excellence, and example the most
powerful means to enforce it. She should never let the recollection be absent
from her mind—that children have both eyes and ears for attention to a mother’s
conduct. Not content with preparing herself for her important functions
beforehand, she should carry on the education of herself simultaneously with
that of her children. There are few situations which more imperatively require
preparation, and yet few that receive less.

Again, we often see in a mother such a solicitude about the health and comfort
of her babe; such an engrossing attention to all matters respecting its physical
well-being, united with such an exuberant delight in the child, as a child; such
a mother’s joyousness in her babe—that her mind is diverted by these
circumstances from all the serious thoughts and solemn reflections which ought
to be awakened by the consideration that a rational, immortal, and sinful being
is committed to her charge—to be trained for both worlds. Thus her attention is
absorbed month after month, while all this while her infant’s faculties are
developing—its judgment, will, affections, and conscience—at least in their
capabilities—are opening, but neglected—and its natural bias to evil, grows
unnoticed and unchecked! The very time when judicious care over the formation of
character could be most advantageously exerted is allowed to pass by unimproved;
sinful attitudes are allowed to strengthen unrestrained; self-will is allowed to
attain a resoluteness which stiffens into obstinacy; and the careless mother,
who at some time or other intended to begin a system of moral training, (always
saying there was time enough yet,) when she does commence—wonders that the
subject of her discipline is so difficult to manage! And then she finds that she
has so neglected to prepare herself for her duties, that she doesn’t know how to
go about them, or what in fact she has to do! A badly trained child continues
growing not only in stature and in strength—but in his wayward disposition and
obstinate self-will; the poor mother has no control; and as to the father, he is
too much taken up with the cares of business to aid his faulty helpmate; and
thus the scene is exhibited, described by Solomon—"To discipline and reprimand a
child produces wisdom, but a mother is disgraced by an undisciplined child!"
Proverbs 29:15

Child after child comes along—and are misgoverned, or not governed at all. And
there are soon seen—in rude, disobedient, and ill-natured children—perhaps at
length profligate sons, and vain silly daughters—the sad fruits of the lack of
maternal wisdom! Young mothers, begin well. Manage that first child with
biblical principles! Put forth all your skill, all your affection, all your
diligence and devotedness—in training him! And, the habit thus acquired, all
will be comparatively easy with the others that follow. It is the novelty of
that first child, the new affections which it calls forth, and the new interest
that it creates, that are likely to throw you off your guard without concern—and
divert your attention from the great work of moral training. The first child
makes the good—or unwise mother! And as it is of immense consequence to begin
your maternal excellence with the first child, so it is of equal importance to
him, and to every one that is added, as I have already said, to begin early.
"Education does not begin with the alphabet. It begins with a mother’s look;
with a father’s nod of approbation or sign of reproof; with a sister’s gentle
pressure of the hand, or a brother’s noble act of patience—with a handful of
flowers in green dells, or on hills or in daisy meadows; with creeping ants, and
almost imperceptible gnats; with humming bees, and glass bee-hives; with
pleasant walks in shady lanes, and with thoughts directed in affectionate and
kindly tones and words to nature, to beauty, to the practice of benevolence, and
to the remembrance of Him, who is the fountain of all good."

Yes, and before all this can be done, before lessons of instruction can be
taught the child from flowers, and insects, and birds—the moral training can
commence—a mother’s look, her nod of approbation, or sign of reproof.

One of the greatest mistakes into which mothers fall is that of supposing the
first two or three years of a child’s life unimportant as regards his training.
The truth is, that in the formation of character, they are the most important of
all. It has been truly said, that from the impressions made, the principles
implanted, and the habits formed, during these years, the child’s character for
time and eternity may take its complexion. It is perfectly clear that before a
child can speak, he is susceptible of moral training. The conscience, or moral
sense, may, by a judicious woman, be developed well before the child has spent
his first birthday. So early may he be made to distinguish between what his
mother considers right and wrong, between what will please and what will
displease her.

Why, the brute creatures will do this—and if they can be trained thus—may not
very young children? It is admitted that there is more of reason in many brutes
than in very young children. Still even very young animals may be trained to
know what they may and what they may not do—and so may very young children! We
often hear mothers say, their children are too young to be taught obedience. The
mother who acts upon the maxim that "children may have their own way for a
certain number of months", will find to her cost that that lesson will not
speedily be forgotten! Moral training may and should precede that which is
intellectual. The cultivation of the affections and conscience should be the
commencement and foundation of education, and will facilitate every succeeding
effort—whether of the child—or of those who train or teach him.

There is in some women a timidity and a distrust of their own capacity, which
paralyze or prevent the endeavors which they could make if they would only
believe in their own power. Every woman of good plain understanding, can do more
than she imagines for the formation of her children’s character. What she is
deficient in, let her supply by reading; and no mother, however qualified,
should neglect this. Every one may learn something from others. Fearful, timid,
and anxious mothers, be not afraid! Prayer will bring God’s help and God’s
blessing.

Injudicious indulgence is the most common, as it is the most injurious, danger
into which a young mother can fall! Be kind—you ought to be. An unloving,
hardhearted mother is a double libel upon her gender and her motherhood. Love is
her power, her instrument, her magical charm. She can do nothing, worse than
nothing, without it. But then her love must be like that of the Divine Parent,
who said, "As many as I love, I rebuke and chasten." Can you say, "No!" to a
child, when with winning smiles, or beseeching voice, or weeping eyes—he asks
for something which is not good for him? Can you take from him that which is
likely to be injurious to him, but which it will give him pain to surrender? Can
you correct him for his faults when your heart rises up in opposition to your
judgment? Can you put him down from your arms, at a proper season for so doing,
when he clings to your neck and cries to remain. Can you exact obedience in, to
him a difficult, but to you, a necessary command? Can you, (first conquering
your own heart) stand out against his tears, resolute in purpose, unyielding in
demand, so stoutly resisting you, in order to conquer his heart? Or do you allow
yourself to be subdued—to put an end to the contest—and by soothing his tears
foster the disposition which ought to be eradicated at any pains and any cost?
She who cannot answer all this in the affirmative is not fit to be a mother!

There must be discipline in a family! A parent must be obeyed. Give up this, and
you train your children for evil and not for good. Here again I say, begin
early. Put on the soft and easy yoke early. The horse is broken in while a colt.
Wild beasts are tamed while yet they are young. Both the human species and
animals—soon grow beyond the power of discipline! A young mother is apt to
entrust too much of the care and early training of her children upon servants.
Much of what may be called the drudgery of managing children, must of necessity
be committed to them; but a wise woman will have her children with her as much
as possible. Next to mothers, nurse-maids are the most influential class of the
community, as regards young children. They and nursery-governesses are to a
great extent the educators of the community. They, when carrying the children in
their arms, or leading them out for air and exercise, or attending upon them in
the nursery, or dressing or undressing them, or however they may be employed for
them—are forming them to good or evil habits. If multitudes are spoiled by
mothers, multitudes more are spoiled by servants; and some of the latter have
undone all the good the former have done. Of what importance is it then that you
should be careful as to the people you admit to your families in this capacity,
to whom to entrust your children’s minds, and hearts, and consciences—for depend
upon it, they have the care of their minds and hearts—as well as of their
bodies!

All you do in training up your children in the way they should go—should bear
directly or indirectly on their eternal welfare! If I seem to advert to this
subject with a frequency that looks redundant—let its tremendous importance—and
its too frequent and too great neglect by parents—be my apology. You will not
overlook, as I have already remarked, the intellectual training of your
children’s minds—but I hope their moral and religious education will be the
chief object of solicitude to you. Viewing your children as immortal beings
destined to eternity, and capable of the enjoyments of heaven—you will labor
even from infancy to imbue their minds with spiritual truths. It is the eternal
welfare of her children, which rescues from littleness and insignificance all
that it appertains to, and hence arises in no inconsiderable degree the exalted
honor of a mother.

"She has given birth, by the sovereign ordination of Almighty God, not to a
being of a mere momentary existence, whose life will perish like that of the
beast of the field—but to an immortal being! Her nursing infant, feeble and
helpless as it may appear, possesses within its bosom a rational soul, an
intellectual power, a spirit which ’all-devouring time’ cannot destroy, which
can never die, but which will outlive the splendors of the glorious sun, and the
burning brilliancy of all the stars. Throughout the infinite ages of eternity,
when all these shall have served their purpose and answered the beneficent end
of their creation, and shall have been blotted out from their position in the
immense regions of space—the soul of each Christian will shine and improve
before the eternal throne, being filled with holy delight and divine love, and
ever active in the praises of its blessed Creator."

Mothers, such is your dignity, such your exalted honor. Feel and value your rich
distinction in being called to educate the sons and daughters of the Lord God
Almighty, and to prepare the holy family who are to dwell in those many mansions
of his Father’s house which the Lord Jesus has gone to prepare. Give yourselves
up to this glorious work. But be judicious in all you do, lest you produce
prejudice against true religion, instead of partiality in its favor. Let your
warmest affection, your greatest cheerfulness, your most engaging smiles, be put
on when you teach Scriptural truths to your children. Approach as nearly as
possible to a seraph form. Be a true Christian—in all its beauty, loveliness,
sanctity, and ineffable sweetness. Let them see it in your character as well as
hear it from your lips. And especially be careful not to enforce as a ’task’,
what should be proposed as an object of hope, and a source of delight. Let them
see in you, that piety, if in one respect it is a strait and narrow path, is in
another, a way of pleasantness and a path of peace. Do not inflict upon them as
a ’punishment’ for offences, learning Scripture or hymns; and thus convert
religion, which is the foretaste of heaven, into a penance which shall be to
them like being tormented before their time. And can it be necessary, after what
I have said in a former part of this chapter, to admonish you again to pray for
and with your children? How have a mother’s prayers been blessed to her
children! John Randolph, a distinguished American statesman, who had been much
exposed to the seductions of infidelity in the society into which he had been
thrown by his position, thus accounted to a gentleman with whom he was
conversing, "I believe I would have been swept away by the flood of French
infidelity, if it had not been for one thing—the remembrance of the time, when
my godly mother used to make me kneel by her side, taking my little hands folded
in hers, and caused me to repeat the Lord’s Prayer."

"On the east of Long Island, in one of the most secluded spots in America, more
than thirty years ago, a mother, whose rare intellectual and moral endowments
were known to but few, made this simple record—’This morning I rose very early
to pray for my children; and especially that my sons may be ministers and
missionaries of Jesus Christ.’ A number of years after, a friend who was
present, thus describes that mother’s dying hour—’Owing to extreme weakness, her
mind wandered, and her conversation was broken; but as she entered the valley of
the shadow of death, her soul lighted up and gilded its darkness. She made a
touching and most appropriate prayer, and told her husband that her views and
anticipations had been such, that she could scarcely sustain them; and that if
they had been increased, she would have been overwhelmed; that her Savior had
blessed her with constant peace, and that through all her sickness, she had
never prayed to live longer. She dedicated her five sons to God as ministers and
missionaries of Jesus Christ, and said that her greatest desire was that her
children might be trained up for God. ’She spoke with joy of the advancement of
the kingdom of Christ, and of the glorious day now ushering in. She attempted to
speak to her children, but was so exhausted, and their cries and sobs were such,
that she could say but little. Her husband then made a prayer, in which he gave
her back to God, and dedicated all they held in common, to him. She then fell
into a sweet sleep, from which she awoke in heaven.’

"The prayers of this mother have been answered. All her eight children have been
trained up for God. Her five sons are all ministers and missionaries of Jesus
Christ—and the late Rev. George Beecher is the first of her offspring whom she
has welcomed to heaven." And one of her daughters is the lady already alluded to
in this discourse, who has obtained a world-wide fame by her touching story
against slavery. In that lady and her work, as well as in her able and learned
brothers, we see the fruit of a mother’s prayers.

Take with you the following MAXIMS, as summing up all that has been said.

1. Though a child’s character is not entirely created by the circumstances in
which he is placed, especially as regards his mother—it is powerfully influenced
by them.

2. Education is designed to form character, and not merely to communicate
instruction. A king of Sparta, when asked what it was in which youth ought
principally to be instructed, replied, "In that which they have most need to
practice when men."

3. Obedience is the first thing a mother has to teach; first both in order and
time—and the foundation of all the rest. Obedience must first be taught as a
habit, and soon after inculcated as a duty.

4. A mother should assiduously cultivate the spirit of curiosity in a child.
Instead of always calling him to learn—should prompt his desires to learn.

5. Young children must be sometimes denied their wishes, but never merely for
the purpose of teaching them submission by taking from them something they are
pleased with.

6. Habits of employment and a love of useful employment, should be taught to
children. They are not so mischievous for the mere love of mischief, as it is
supposed. If they destroy articles, it is sometimes for the purpose of
investigation, and oftener still for lack of proper employment, which ought to
be furnished to them. In very early childhood a ’love of industry’ and ’honest
independence’ may be instilled into a child, by teaching him that it is
honorable to be usefully employed. One little child may feel the pleasure and
practice the duty of benevolence, by doing something for the comfort of a tender
babe still more helpless than itself.

7. It is of the first importance for a mother to establish in the mind of her
child an entire confidence in herself—in her wisdom, kindness, and truth—as well
as a sense of her irresistible authority.

8. Truth, sincerity, honesty, and simplicity are basic virtues in children.
Simplicity is the beauty of a child’s character; and he should be taught from
the beginning to act upon principle, and not for the sake of being well thought
of or rewarded.

9. Domestic affections should be most assiduously cultivated. When the second
baby is born, the first child should, if old enough to understand the matter, be
taught to regard it as an acquisition by which his happiness is to be increased,
and in which he is to take an interest in conjunction with his parents. The
child who is taught affectionate obedience to his parents; and justice and
kindness towards his little equals round the domestic hearth—is being trained to
fill with propriety the stations and relations of future life.

11. The babe grows into the child; the child into the youth; the youth into the
man; and the man into the immortal; and that immortal will be an heir of
glory—or a child of perdition. Let this be remembered from the beginning and
always acted upon.

12. Discipline in a family is what the public administration of justice is to a
state; where it is lacking, there may be very good laws, but they will remain a
dead letter—and the reign of crime and confusion be the certain consequence.

13. Christianity should not be regarded as one science among many, the
inculcation of which is a part of good education. But it must be the vital
principle diffusing itself through all instruction, all rules, all authority,
all discipline, and all example. At what age is it proper, it may be asked, to
begin teaching children religion? Their father and mother are, if true and
consistent believers, "Christianity embodied"—and as soon as they begin to know
their parents they begin to know something about true religion. A very young
child is quite aware that his parents speak to One whom they do not see, and
inquiring thoughts are awakened in his mind, before he can express them in
words.*

*Some of these maxims are taken from "The Young Mother, or Affectionate Advice
to an Unmarried Daughter," by Mrs Copley. Published by the Tract Society. And
now, to sum up all, consider– A mother’s charge—an immortal creature. A mother’s
duty—to train him up for God, heaven and eternity. A mother’s dignity—to educate
the family of the Almighty Creator of the universe. A mother’s difficulty—to
raise a fallen sinful creature to holiness and virtue. A mother’s
encouragement—the promise of Divine grace to assist her in her momentous duties.
A mother’s relief—to bear the burden of her cares to God in prayer. A mother’s
hope—to meet her child in glory everlasting, and spend eternal ages of delight
with him before the throne of God and the Lamb. But are mothers only to engage
in this work of educating their children for God? No! Fathers, I speak to you,
for the Bible speaks to you—"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead,
bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." I have addressed
this chapter to your wives, because on them first devolves the duty of training
the infant mind, and preparing the children for your hands. Not that they will
ever, or should ever, give up their diligence or withdraw their influence. A
mother’s power is perhaps as great when judiciously exerted over the adult—as
over the infant child. But you, when the children are growing up, must join your
solicitude and labors with hers. They are your children as well as hers. God
will require their souls at your hands as well as hers. Are you exercising your
authority, giving your instructions, pouring out your prayers, affording your
example—for the salvation of your children? Is it your wish, your ambition, your
endeavor, your supplication, that they may be Christian men—or only rich ones?
Are you pouring your influence into the same channel as your holy wife? Are you
helping or hindering her in her pious solicitude for the spiritual and eternal
welfare of your joint offspring?

Happy, happy couple, where there is sympathy of feeling and similarity of
sentiment in the most momentous concern that can engage the attention of man, of
angels, or of God—true Christianity. Where the husband and the wife are of one
mind and one heart, not only in reference to themselves, but in regard also to
their children, and both are engaged in training them up for everlasting glory!
I can liken such a couple, in their benevolent efforts for their children’s
welfare, only to the two angels who were sent down from heaven to the rescue of
Lot, and who with holy and benevolent violence took him by the hand to pluck him
from the burning city, and conducted him to the place of safety prepared by the
mercy of Almighty God.

After this chapter was composed, I received the following letter—

"Dear Mr. James, In your next Sermon to Young Women, will you kindly give some
advice to common-place Mothers; who, not gifted with extraordinary affection, or
extraordinary patience, are apt to be sadly worried with the incessant and
varied claims of a large family; especially where a limited income imposes
unremitting toil to arrange for ordinary domestic comfort; and the numerous
inhabitants of a small house almost preclude the refreshment of solitary closet
communion with that Heavenly Father who rewards openly. As a class, we would
gladly be instructed how to avoid, or at least to surmount, the impatience and
irritation so frequently engendered by the perplexities of the nursery and the
school room; the hasty speech, the angry action, which must be not only a
hindrance to maternal influence, but perhaps even a hindrance to the efficacy of
a mother’s prayers. Excuse the liberty I take in thus writing to you, and with
many thanks for your past valuable hints, Yours very respectfully, A
Common-place Mother." This letter claims and awakens my tenderest sympathy for
the class of mothers to whom it refers; I mean women without the advantages of
wealth, the accommodations of a nursery, and the help of servants, to lighten
the load of maternal cares, and to assist in the performance of maternal
duties—women who must always be in the midst of the perpetually recurring trials
of irritation, to which, in such circumstances, a numerous family of young
children exposes them; and who may imagine themselves, as to intellectual and
other qualifications, only "Common-place Mothers." Let such women not despond as
if they were but slenderly fitted for their duties. The writer of this letter
gives full evidence that she is not disqualified for a mother’s functions, so
far as mental ability is concerned—but perhaps she, and others in her situation,
may have something yet to learn and acquire as to godly disposition and manner.
It is evident she is in danger in these respects. The waywardness and sins of
unamiable dispositions in her children, produce petulance and irritability, and
lead perhaps too often on her part to sinful anger. A scold, slap, or
shake—sometimes takes the place of mild but firm admonition, and calm
correction. To her, and to all in her situation, I say, what you need, and what
you must put forth all your constant and determined effort, and wrestling
supplication with God, to obtain—is the complete subjugation of your temper. You
must bring this under control. You must acquire forbearance, patience, and calm
serenity. It will cost you much trouble and much prayer to attain it; but God’s
grace will be sufficient for you.

I do not, of course, counsel you to contract that spirit of apathetic, easy
indifference which lets children take their own course, and for the sake of a
little ease throws out the reins of discipline. Still a mother must often have
eyes—and not see; ears—and not hear. A fussing, fidgety notice of every little
thing that goes wrong in the disposition of all the children, will keep her in
perpetual misery. To all then who are in the situation of "The Common-place
Mother," I again and again, with all possible emphasis, say—subdue your
irritability, and acquire a calm, patient, forbearing, loving, and serene mind.
God will help you if you seek it. You must not think such a frame of mind
unattainable, nor allow your provocations and temptations to be an apology for
your little sallies of bad disposition. The misfortune perhaps in the case of
such mothers, is—that they did not begin well. The first child was not well
managed. Bad habits crept on, and now, with the family increased, it is
difficult to break them. I have known even large, very large families, where,
though there were few domestic accommodations, by patience and kindness, mixed
with firmness, on the part of the mother, aided by a wise, kind, firm father,
the children were all well-managed, and the parents happy.

It would greatly comfort, help, and encourage such mothers, if they attended the
meetings of Mothers’ Societies, where such institutions are formed. As regards
what is said about the opportunity for prayer, I can hardly admit a crowded
house to be an excuse for the neglect of this. Every mother has at her command
her own chamber, to which, as to a little sanctuary, when the infant voices are
hushed in sleep, she can repair and pour out her heart to God for her children,
and perhaps breathe over some of them, slumbering on the bed at which she
kneels, a mother’s prayers. Besides, how much of prayer—spontaneous and
silent—yet sincere, fervent, and believing—may be presented to God, without the
formalities of devotion, or the retirement of the closet!

I again say, let no mother despair of herself because she does not possess high
intellectual qualifications—the more of these she has of course the better, but
a disposition under control, a patient, loving, forbearing temperament, mild
firmness, a gentle, but constant maintenance of parental authority, a judicious
administration of rewards and correction, will enable any woman to fill her
place with efficiency, though she may think herself to be "A Common-place
Mother."


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  CHAPTER 86: 07.00. JEWELS FROM JAMES
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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

Volume 1

Volume 2

Volume 3

Volume 4

Volume 5

Volume 6

Volume 7

Volume 8 "I write plain truths, in plain language, for plain people."


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  CHAPTER 87: 07.01     VOLUME 1
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who trifles with it is a fool!

If the man who trembles at death is a coward; he who trifles with it is a fool!
There is a thousand times more rationality in the trembler—than in the trifler!

There is a phenomenon in the rational world well worthy of consideration,
inquiry, and solution—the strange and fatal insensibility of men to the grand
fact that they are mortal! Since it is infallibly certain that they must and
will die—and since death is so solemn an event—how does it happen that so few
ever seriously think of it, or really prepare for it?

One would think that so grand and solemn a fact as death, especially viewed in
connection with the events which are to immediately follow it—heaven, hell and
eternity—along with the uncertainty how soon it may be realized—might operate
with an unlimited and altogether overpowering influence upon men’s minds and
hearts!

But men wish to forget death!

They try to forget it—and alas, too often succeed in accomplishing this fatal
oblivion! Yet we can scarcely wonder at this, when we consider what is their
spiritual condition—and what death is!

It is the commonness of death, which deprives it of its extreme dreadfulness. If
death happened in our world only once in a century, it would be felt like the
shock of an earthquake; and would hush the inhabitants of earth into a
breathless silence, while the echoes of the knell of the departed soul were
reverberating around the globe!

Death is . . .the moment of destiny; the seal of eternity; the cessation of
probation; the commencement of retribution and judgment!

The antecedents of death are dreadful—so are the accompaniments—so are the
consequences!

To every sense—death is revolting!

To every social affection—death is crucifying!

To reason—death is perplexing!

To everything but saving faith—death is overwhelming!

Traveling to glory, honor, immortality and eternal life!

Earth is to its inhabitants, neither a paradise nor a desert. If it has not all
the beautiful scenes and productions of a paradise—so neither has it all the
dreariness and desolation of a desert. This world is called "a valley of tears,"
but it is not less true that it is sometimes a valley without the tears. It
often wears a smiling aspect, and reflects the light of God’s graciousness and
bounty.

We know very well that man’s chief portion lies in the blessings of salvation,
and the hope of eternal glory. These are so vast as almost to reduce all else to
nothing. Full pardon of sin, and the hope of an eternity of pure and perfect
felicity, are such amazing expectations, as might seem to render us absolutely
indifferent alike to . . .poverty and riches; pain and ease; obscurity and
renown.

How little would it signify to him who was going to take possession of a kingdom
and a throne, whether he traveled through a desert or a garden; or whether he
dined meagerly or sumptuously; or whether he had all best accommodations and
conveniences along the way. His thoughts would be so engrossed with the
permanent scenes of greatness, grandeur, power, and wealth before him—as to be
almost insensible to the privations or comforts along the way. So it is, with a
Christian traveling to glory, honor, immortality and eternal life!

It is incumbent upon Christians to let their spirit and conduct be consistent
with the hope of eternal glory, in that eminent spirituality and heavenliness of
mind, which are manifested in a supreme, constant, and practical regard to
divine and eternal things.

A Christian’s habits

Christian parents should resist the entrance of worldly conformity into their
families.

Expensive entertainments, mirthful parties, vain and frivolous amusements, showy
modes of dress, should be most cautiously avoided!

True religion will not dwell amid such scenes; her refined and spiritual taste
is soon offended, and she retires.

A Christian’s habits should be simple and spiritual.

If it is his aim to approach as nearly as possible to the manners of the world
without actually being numbered with its votaries, his children will be
restrained with difficulty, on the godly side of the line of demarcation, and be
perpetually longing and trying to push onward towards worldliness.

The miserable efforts, made by some professing Christians, to be thought people
of taste and fashion, show how badly they bear the Christian yoke, and how
nearly they are resolved to cast it away as an encumbrance. We would despise
these things wherever we see them, if they did not demand claims upon our pity,
still stronger than those upon our scorn.

When a worldly temper has crept into the circle of a Christian family, piety
retires before it, and the spirit of error soon enters to take possession of the
desolate home.

Christ’s seemingly inexplicable conduct

Behold the Canaanite woman appealing to Incarnate Mercy for her demon-possessed
daughter, beseeching for a cure from Him who alone could effect it, and whom she
believed could, if He would. What a plea! "Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me!
My daughter is suffering terribly from demon-possession!" One would think that
such an appeal of course will be instantly heard and granted. "But Jesus gave
her no reply—not even a word!" What! the ’ear of pity’ deaf to such a petition!
"What!" one would have imagined she would say, "is this the mercy, the fame of
which has reached even my afflicted home? Will He not hear me, look on me,
answer me? Must I return, and tell all who come to inquire about my plight—that
He would not bestow a word or even a look, upon me?"

To increase her distress and discouragement, the disciples urged Jesus to send
her away. "Tell her to leave," they said. "She is bothering us with all her
begging." Is this all the mercy that could be found in the hearts of all the
twelve apostles? Poor woman, we pity you. There is very little hope for you!

Jesus at length breaks silence, and says, "I was sent only to help the people of
Israel—God’s lost sheep—not the Gentiles." His harsh words are more distressing
than His silence!

Still her faith holds on, and her prayer continues, for "she came and worshiped
Him and pleaded again—Lord, help me!" To this He makes a reply that seems to add
insult to neglect. "It isn’t right to take food from the children—and throw it
to the dogs!"

Mysterious answer! O Savior, how apparently unlike Yourself!

What must have been the poor widow’s reflections—"My heart is now almost
broken—am I not a Gentile woman? and must I be called a dog? Is it thus He will
deny His own character, and break the bruised reed? Must I go home and look upon
my poor child with the sting of this insult and its venom rankling in my
tortured bosom?"

Surely she will now give up her suit—stop her plea—and renounce her faith. Yes,
she would have done so—had her faith been less strong. "Yes, Lord," she replied,
"but even dogs are permitted to eat crumbs that fall beneath their master’s
table!" Marvelous reply, one of the finest responses which language ever formed,
and the most ingenious reasonings ever drawn.

Jesus could hold out no longer. He could protract the trial no farther. Like
Joseph under the influence of his feelings, when his heart was moved by the
discourse of his brothers; Jesus drops the innocent disguise which His bursting
compassion could not sustain another moment, and with delighted surprise He
exclaims,"Woman, your faith is great! Your request is granted!"

What was the meaning of all this? What was the secret of Christ’s seemingly
inexplicable conduct? What? He saw He had a subject which would enable Him to
exhibit to the world an extraordinary instance of faith in prayer, and He
determined to draw it forth in all its power and beauty. His heart was moved
towards her from the beginning. He knew what He would do—and though He beat her
off with one hand, He held her fast by the other.

Here then we have an instance of prayer continued under delays, apparent
neglect, and repulse—and continued through the power of faith. The woman still
believed that there was mercy in that heart, to which she for a long time
appealed in vain, and that she should ultimately succeed—and she did. "And her
daughter was instantly healed!"

Turn away from the lovely enchantress!

"Stop loving this evil world and all that it offers you, for when you love the
world, you show that you do not have the love of the Father in you. For the
world offers only the lust for physical pleasure, the lust for everything we
see, and pride in our possessions. These are not from the Father. They are from
this evil world." 1 John 2:15-16

Such is the world that assails the Christian, and which he must overcome—or
perish eternally! He is aware of his danger from the strength, subtlety, and
ever-present activity of this enemy of his soul.

The whole current of Scripture commands runs against the love of the world. In
every possible form, it is forbidden.

Worldliness is the most thronged road to everlasting ruin!

Worldliness does not merely consist in an intense love of money, and an
excessive eagerness to be rich—but in a supreme regard to that which is visible
and temporal, whether these relate to the quiet scenes of domestic comfort, or
to those elegancies, splendors, and accumulations of wealth, which lead a man to
seek his highest bliss in these!

The world is a foe which attacks us in various places! In the shop—by all the
temptations incident to trade and wealth. In the halls of politics and public
business—by all the enticements to pride and ambition. In the places of
amusement—by all the soft blandishments of pleasure. In the haunts of vice—by
all the gratifications of appetite. In the scenes of nature—by all the delights
of taste and imagination. In the walks of science and literature—by all the
delights of intellectual gratification. In the social circle—by all the
enjoyments of friendship. In the domestic retreat—by all the sweets of marital
bliss. Oh, how many are the scenes where the world meets man and subdues him!

Sometimes the world approaches the believer with a smiling face, making promises
and offering caresses, like the serpent to our first mother in the garden; or
like Satan to our Lord when he said, "All these things will I give you—if you
will fall down and worship me!" How difficult is it on such occasions to turn
away from the lovely enchantress, to keep the eye steadily fixed on heavenly
glories—and instead of greedily quaffing the cup of poisoned sweets, to dash it
on the ground!

If immorality slays its thousands—the world slays its ten thousands! ’Supreme
love of the world’ will as certainly lead its possessor to the bottomless pit,
as the love of open vice!

Worldliness, I repeat, and repeat with emphasis, is . . .the smoothest, the most
polished, the most fashionable, the most respectable path to the bottomless pit!

Victory over the world is subordination . . .of the creature to the Creator; of
earth to heaven; of temporal blessings to spiritual ones; of time to eternity.

Victory over the world is the formation of an unearthly, spiritual, divine, and
heavenly mind-set and character!

"It was the sight of Your dear cross, First weaned my soul from earthly things;
And taught me to esteem as dross, The mirth of fools and pomp of kings!"

How all the splendor of earthly things pales before that infinitely more
resplendent object—Jesus!

All this loveliness of character

"Without holiness no one will see the Lord." Hebrews 12:14

An unholy person cannot inherit the kingdom of God.

There is a vast difference between sanctification—and the common morality of
life. There are many people who are . . .very amiable in their dispositions,
very just in their transactions, very excellent in all their relationships, very
lovely in their general character; but who at the same time, whatever esteem and
affection they may have—are not in a state of sanctification. They . . .have
never been convinced of sin, have never exercised faith in Christ, have never
been born of the Spirit, have never been brought to love God.

All this loveliness of character is but the beautiful wildflower in the
wilderness of unrenewed humanity.

There can be no true holiness apart from the principle of supreme love to God.
Until this is implanted in the soul, we are under the dominion of supreme
selfishness—and all these excellences may be traced up to self! God’s law is not
obeyed; God’s glory is not sought, because God Himself is not loved.

It is a melancholy spectacle, to see so much ’general excellence of character’
as we sometimes witness, all fruitless to its possessor, as regards the eternal
world, for lack of that Divine principle which transmutes all this apparently
beautiful morality, into true godliness.

Without holiness, whatever amiable and lovely qualities of a general kind we may
possess, we are still . . .the children of wrath, the enemies of God, the
subjects of unrenewed corruption, the heirs of perdition; and going on to
everlasting destruction!

"Without holiness no one will see the Lord." Hebrews 12:14

He is both depraved and condemned!

God created man in His own image—which consisted of true holiness. No spot of
guilt was upon his conscience—nor spot of depravity upon his heart.

The light of truth irradiated his understanding.

The glow of perfect love warmed his heart.

The choices of his will were all on the side of purity.

His conscience was the seat of perfect peace.

The beauties of holiness adorned his character.

His whole soul was in harmony with the untainted scenes of Paradise—in which
bowers he walked in undisturbed friendship with God.

No sorrow wrung his heart.

No care wrinkled his brow.

No anxiety broke his rest.

He was happy—because he was holy.

When he sinned, his whole moral condition was altered! He fell under the
condemnation of the law he had violated, and became the subject of inward
corruption. An entire change passed over his nature. He not only became
guilty—but depraved!

His understanding became darkened!

His affections became selfish and earthly!

His will became prone to choose what is wrong!

His conscience became benumbed!

If he would ever be recovered from this state of misery, he must be both
pardoned and sanctified.

The covenant of God’s love and mercy in Christ Jesus the glorious scheme of
redeeming grace—meets the whole case of fallen man, by providing not only
justification—but sanctification as well.

Wonderful gospel provision!

Pardon for the guilty!

Sanctification for the unholy!

The condition of the sinner may be likened to that of a condemned criminal shut
up in prison, and infected with a deadly plague! What he needs, is both the cure
of his plague—and the reversal of his sentence. Neither alone, will meet his
case. If he is only pardoned—he will die of the plague. If he is only cured of
the plague—he will suffer the just sentence of the law.

So it is with fallen man—he is both depraved and condemned! If he is only
pardoned—his depravity will be his misery. If he could by any means be
reformed—he is still under sentence of death.

The glory and completeness of the gospel scheme is, that it provides a cure for
the diseases of the soul—in sanctification; as well as a pardon from the
condemnation of the law—in justification! A system of religious pauperism?

"Even while we were with you, we gave you this rule: ’Whoever does not work
should not eat!’ Yet we hear that some of you are living idle lives, refusing to
work and wasting time meddling in other people’s business. In the name of the
Lord Jesus Christ, we appeal to such people—no, we command them: Settle down and
get to work! Earn your own living!" 2 Thessalonians 3:10-12

The poor should be conspicuous for their industry, and should not eat the bread
of idleness. The poor have no right, therefore, to expect, that in consequence
of their association with a Christian church, they are in any measure released
from the obligation of the most unwearied industry. They are not to be supported
in idleness, nor ought they to look for any financial allowance, while they are
able to provide for themselves and their family.

The religion of Jesus Christ was never intended to establish a system of
religious pauperism. It is to be feared, that many have entered into Christian
fellowship on purpose to obtain its funds! This is a dreadful case, wherever it
occurs, and should make all the poor members of our churches tremble at the most
distant approximation to such a crime!

The only times in which Christians should feel that they have claims upon the
funds of the church, are when sickness or old age has incapacitated them for
labor; or when the produce of their industry is too scanty to procure the
necessities of life.

The guardian angels of our churches!

"If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing."
1 Corinthians 13:2

We must come back to the first principles of practical piety, and cultivate the
passive virtues of the Christian character. We must remember that Christianity
is being like Christ, and that unless we partake of that love which is patient
and kind, which does not envy, nor boast, nor is proud, nor rude, nor
self-seeking, nor easily angered, which keeps no record of wrongs—we are
nothing!

Strange indeed it is, that men, who by their own confession are lost, vile,
ruined, helpless sinners, should lack HUMILITY; and that they who believe
themselves to be saved from hell by unmerited mercy, should be destitute of
LOVE!

We must crucify that selfishness, which fixes upon its own gratification, and
cherish that expansive benevolence which looks upon the good of others. We must
contend to be lowest—not to be highest! We must seek to please, and not merely
to be pleased.

Let us remember that HUMILITY and LOVE are . . .the necessary fruits of our
doctrines, the highest beauty of our character, and the guardian angels of our
churches! The panacea for the world’s evils

The secret of the world’s moral renovation, and the panacea for the world’s
evils, lies compressed in that one expression of the apostle Paul, "Christ Jesus
came into the world to save sinners!"

This city has so aroused My anger and wrath!

"From the day it was built until now, this city has so aroused My anger and
wrath that I must remove it from My sight!" Jeremiah 32:31

Let us devoutly acknowledge both the source and the justice of our calamities.
The origin of the evils that afflict us, is often to be found in the sins which
disgrace us.

Sin is the only thing in all the universe which God hates, and this He abhors
wherever He discovers it.

With our limited understanding, and feeble powers of moral perception, it is
impossible for us to form an adequate idea of the evil of sin, or the light in
which it is contemplated by a God whose understanding is infinite, and whose
purity is immaculate. That law which men are daily trampling upon, equally
without consideration, without reason, and without penitence, is most sacred in
His eyes, as the emanation and the transcript of His own holiness. He is also
omnipresent and omniscient. There is not a nook or corner of the land from which
He is excluded. Of every scene of iniquity He is the constant, though invisible
witness. The whole mass of national guilt, with every the minutest particular of
it, is ever before His eye!

His justice, which consists in giving to all their due, must incline Him to
punish iniquity—and His power enables Him to do it!

He is the moral governor of the nations, and concerned to render His providence
subservient to the display of His attributes. And if a people so highly favored
as we are, notwithstanding our manifold sins, escape without chastisement—will
not some be ready to question the equity, if not the very exercise of His
administration?

His threatenings against the wicked are to be found in almost every page of holy
Scripture. Nor are the threatenings of the Bible to be viewed in the light of
mere unreal terrors, as clouds and storms which the poet’s pencil has introduced
into the picture; the creatures of his own imagination, and only intended to
excite the imagination of others.

No! They are solemn realities, intended to operate by their denunciation as a
check upon sin; or if not so regarded, to be endured in their execution as a
punishment upon our sins! Scripture gives us many examples in which this has
happened. It has preserved an account of the downfall of nearly all the chief
empires, kingdoms, and cities of antiquity; and that, not as a mere chronicle of
the event, but as a great moral lesson to the world. Scripture carefully informs
us, that sin was the cause of their ruin!

Volcanoes terrify with their eruptions, and submerge towns or cities beneath
their streams of lava!

Earthquake’s convulsive throes bury a population beneath the ruins of their own
abodes!

Hurricanes carry desolation through a country!

Famine whitens the valleys with the bones of the thousands who have perished
beneath its reign!

Pestilence stalks through a land, hurrying multitudes to the tomb, and filling
all that remain with unutterable terrors!

Wars have been agents in the unparalleled scenes of bloodshed and misery!

Scripture proclaims that these are to be regarded as a fearful exposition of the
evil nature of sin, written by the finger of God upon the tablet of the earth’s
history!

Visit, in imagination, my countrymen, the spots where many of these cities once
stood, and you shall see nothing but desolation stalking like a specter across
the plain, lifting its eye to heaven, and exclaiming, amidst the silence that
reigns around, "The kingdom and the nation that will not serve You, shall
utterly perish!" As you standamidst the moldering fragments of departed
grandeur, does not every breeze, as it sighs through the ruins, seem to say, as
a voice from the sepulcher, "See, therefore, and know that it is an evil and a
bitter thing to sin against the Lord!"

Let us devoutly acknowledge both the source and the justice of our calamities.
The origin of the evils that afflict us, is often to be found in the sins which
disgrace us.

"From the day it was built until now, this city has so aroused My anger and
wrath that I must remove it from My sight!" Jeremiah 32:31

"The Lord your God pronounced this disaster against this place. The Lord has
brought it about, and has done as He said. Because you sinned against the Lord
and did not obey his voice, this thing has come upon you." (Jeremiah 40:2-3)

I kill

("The Death of Eminent Ministers, a Public Loss" A funeral sermon by J. A.
James, Nov. 6, 1825)

’Chance’ has nothing to do with death! Not the outcast infant of a day old,
exposed by its unnatural mother to perish by the tiger or the vulture; nor even
the sparrow that dies of hunger in its nest—passes out of life without the
knowledge of God.

"Don’t be afraid!" said Christ, "I am the first and the last, the living one. I
was dead, but now I am alive forever! I have the keys of the unseen world and of
death!" What consolation is there in this sublime declaration! The key of death
is never for a moment entrusted out of His hands—and never can be wrested from
them! Every time a human being dies, it is by an act of His power, in turning
the key which unlocks the gates of death! Our life is under the constant and
strict observation of His omniscient eye! He determines the moment when to take
the key from His belt, and throw the portals of immortality back on their mighty
hinges!

O, what comfort does this impart to us, in reference to our own lives—to know
that exposed as we are to all the accidents and diseases of this ’world of
changes’, and enveloped as we are in darkness as to the consequences of the next
step, and the events of the next hour—that we cannot die by a random stroke, or
by a blind chance! The key of death must be turned by Him who is infinitely
wise, and powerful, and good!

"See, I am the only God! There are no others. I kill, and I make alive! I wound,
and I heal, and no one can rescue you from My power!" Deuteronomy 32:39

That one majestic, inconceivable, and expressive word

"And this is the promise that He Himself made to us: eternal life." (1 John
2:25)

In the infinite comprehensiveness of this one promise are included all that the
omniscient mind of the Father in the exercise of His love has contrived in
eternity; all that the incarnate Son has obtained by His sacrifice upon the
cross; and all that the Divine Spirit has revealed upon the page of Scripture;
and all which is contained in that one majestic, inconceivable, and expressive
word—HEAVEN!

I do not need flamboyant descriptions and eloquent representations of the
celestial state, to raise my desires and hopes. It is enough to know that it is
GLORY, first prepared, then promised, and ultimately bestowed by Jehovah—as the
concentration of His infinite beneficence and the full manifestation of His
boundless benevolence!

Heaven is . . .the absence of all evil, natural and moral; the possession of all
possible good; a glorified body united with a perfect soul, and all this in the
immediate presence of God!

There we shall see God!

We shall not only see Him—but love Him!

We shall not only love Him—but serve Him!

We shall not only serve Him—but enjoy Him!

We shall not only enjoy Him—but hold such communion with Him as will assimilate
us to the all-perfect source of our felicity!

The objects of our contemplation, our situation, our companions, our personal
constitution, our constant exercises of holy intellect, heart, and volition—will
be so many distinct sources of bliss!

Perfect knowledge, perfect holiness, and perfect love must of necessity open the
fountain of perfect joy!

No secondary concern will call off our unwearied attention from the service of
God; no sin or painwill interrupt us in it; nor will death ever dismiss us from
it. The business and the blessedness of that happy state are the same—our
supreme delight will be our constant employment. Every sense will be an inlet,
every faculty a capacity, and every energy a pulsation—of the purest bliss!

Heaven will be "life" . . .life in perfection, the life of the soul, the life of
God, the life of eternity!

But to describe it, how vain and arrogant the attempt, when even to conceive of
it is impossible! "In Your presence is fullness of joy! At Your right hand there
are pleasures for evermore!" Neither language nor thought can go beyond this!
Mind cannot conceive more. God Himself can tell us no more, than that heaven
consists in His presence, and the enjoyment of His favor—forever and ever!

"No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined the things that God
has prepared forthose who love Him!" (1 Corinthians 2:9)

The base cares and the petty enjoyments of the present world

Sin is raging all around us!

Satan is busy in the work of destruction!

Men are dying!

Souls are every moment departing into eternity!

Hell is enlarging her mouth, and multitudes are continually descending to
torments which knows no mitigation and no end!

How astounding is it sometimes to ourselves, that, the base cares and the petty
enjoyments of the present world should have so much power over us, as to retard
us in our heavenward course, and make us negligent and indolent, heedless and
forgetful.

Time is short!

Life is uncertain!

Death is at hand!

Immortality is about to swallow up our existence in eternal life—or eternal
death!

Heaven expanding above us!

Hell is yawning beneath us!

Eternity is opening before us!

It is by faith

It is by faith, as an operative principle of universal obedience to the gospel
of Christ, that the believer "purifies his heart" and adorns his character with
"the beauties of holiness," through the power of the Divine Spirit.

It is by faith that he overcomes the world . . .the dread of its frown, the
desire of its smile, its evil maxims, its corrupt principles.

It is by faith that he . . .quenches the fiery darts of the wicked one, is
delivered from the wiles of the devil, and bruises the serpent’s head.

It is by faith, as a pilgrim and stranger upon earth, he nourishes the desire
for, and indulges the expectation of, that country which God has promised to
those who love Him.

It is by faith that he rises superior to the love of life, vanquishes the fear
of death, and while this monster puts his most horrid form of mischief on—he
smiles at his terrors, and, swelling into rapture, exclaims, "O death, where is
your sting!"

Essential to eminent usefulness

A revived church is the best hope of a lost world.

A revived ministry the best hope of a dormant church.

Under ’a great show of outward profession’, there is a lamentable deficiency of
vital godliness in our churches. Much of the prevailing benevolence and activity
of the church, are a mere substitute for spiritual religion—rather than the
expression of vital godliness.

In our churches, it is easy to perceive . . .how much more welcome is the
’humorous’—than the serious; how much more anxious the audience is to be
’entertained’ —than to be edified; how much greater homage is paid to the
’talent’ of the preacher —than to his piety!

In fact, our public meetings sometimes assume rather the character of ’religious
amusements’—than pious worship!

It ought never to be forgotten that a church meeting, if rightly understood, is
a company of people brought together to carry out the design for which the Son
of God expired upon the cross! Surely the frame of our minds, and the tone of
the sermons, and the spirit and tendency of the whole worship service, ought to
be in strict harmony with such a purpose. Yet many of our church meetings have
rather lowered, than elevated the tone of our piety, and thus enfeebled our real
strength for carrying on this great work.

Eminent piety is essential to eminent usefulness!

It is eminent piety alone, which will enable us to take a clear and impressive
view of the object to be sought, and supply the energies necessary for obtaining
it.

It is eminent piety alone, which will purify our motives, and produce that
spirit of profound humility, self-denial, dependence, and entire
consecration—which are necessary to qualify us for the work.

It is eminent piety alone, which will keep up the spirit of faith and prayer, to
which the divine promises are made. We must become . . .more devout, more
prayerful, more holy, more heavenly, more spiritual.

He secretly wishes there was no Supreme Being

The fool says in his heart, "There is no God!" (Psalms 14:1)

His sinful disposition is at deadly enmity with the perfection of the Divine
character. The holiness of God is the object of his abhorrence—as long as this
exists he cannot be at perfect peace. The rays of Divine purity, as often as
they fall upon his disordered mind, must disturb and exasperate it. He secretly
wishes there was no Supreme Being—or that He was not holy. If his powers were
equal to his desires, he would . . .wrest the sword of justice from the hand of
Deity, strip the character of Jehovah of the beauties of holiness, dash in
pieces the tables of His law, overturn the throne of judgment, and establish the
reign of anarchy, in order that he might sin in peace, and escape the punishment
of his wickedness!

The very existence of a holy God is, and ever must be, an annoyance to him, in
whose mind there are combined . . .the love of sin, a dread of its consequences,
and a wish to be unmolested in his course of iniquity.

Flesh-pleasing pulpit opiates!

They are a rebellious people, deceptive children, children who do not obey the
Lord’s instruction. They say to the seers, "Do not see," and to the prophets,
"Do not prophesy the truth to us. Tell us flattering things! Prophesy illusions!
Get out of the way! Leave the pathway. Rid us of the Holy One of Israel." Isaiah
30:9-11

It is a striking fact, that He who was love incarnate; who was mercy’s messenger
to our lost world; who was named Jesus, because He was to be the Savior of His
people; who was the manifestation of God’s love to man—delivered, during the
course of His personal ministry, more fearful descriptions of Divine justice and
the punishment of the wicked, than are to be found in any other part of the Word
of God! What can exceed the solemn scene of the parable of the rich man in
torments? Hell and destruction are there set openly before us.

No man can fulfill his ministry, therefore, without frequently alluding to the
justice of God in the punishment of sin. He must seek to alarm the fears of the
unconverted by a representation of the consequences that will follow a state of
final impenitence.

Such a subject frequently calls up all the enmity of the carnal mind. To be
told, not only that they are sinners—which all will admit in general terms—but
that their sins are such as to deserve the wrath of God, such as to expose them
to the torments of hell, and such as will infallibly bring them to the
bottomless pit—unless they truly repent; to be told again and again that they
are hastening to perdition; to have the rod of Divine vengeance shaken over
their heads; to have all the dreadful curses of the violated law analyzed,
ascertained and announced; to have this done in their hearing, and done
frequently; to be made to sit and hear their future eternal doom, and thus to be
tormented before their time—is what they cannot, and will not endure! Unable to
bear any longer his pointed addresses to the conscience, they will leave his
ministry—for the flesh-pleasing pulpit opiates of some flatterer of men’s souls,
who is too cowardly to trouble the minds, or alarm the consciences of those who
love smooth, flattering and delusive preaching.

To be publicly denounced as deserving Divine wrath; to be told that they are
sinners to such a degree as to merit the eternal punishment of a holy God; to be
reminded that, instead of their fancied good heart, pure nature, and blameless
life—they are, in the sight of God, depraved in every faculty and polluted in
every part; to be represented as unfit for communion with God here, and for His
presence hereafter—all this is so opposed to all their notions, so mortifying to
their vain pride, so degrading to their dignity, that they cannot but dislike
it. To such a debasement they would not willingly descend; and hence their
demand for the teaching of deceit, and the smooth speech of falsehood. What they
want is to be flattered into a good opinion of themselves. They hate the
doctrine which disturbs their self-delight, and revile the man who attempts to
tell them the solemn reality of how vile they are!

Do you remember little Elizabeth?

"He who wins souls is wise." Proverbs 11:30

My ’imagination’ has sometimes presented me with this picture of a faithful
teacher’s entrance to the state of her everlasting rest. The agony of death
finished, the triumph of faith completed—and the conquering spirit hastening to
her crown! Upon the confines of the heavenly world, a divinely lovely form
awaits her arrival. Enrapt in astonishment at the dazzling glory of this
celestial inhabitant, she inquires, "Is this Gabriel, chief of all the heavenly
multitudes—and am I honored with his aid to guide me to the throne of God?"

With a smile of ineffable delight, such as gives fresh beauty to an angel’s
countenance, the mystic form replies, "Do you remember little Elizabeth, who was
in yonder world—a upil in your Sunday school class? Do you recollect the child
who wept as you talked to her of sin—and directed her to the cross of the dying
Redeemer? God smiled with approbation upon your effort, and by His own Spirit
sealed the impression upon her heart in characters never to be effaced.
Providence removed her from beneath your care, before the fruit of your labor
was visible. The gospel seed, however, had taken root, and it was the privilege
of another to water—what you had sown. Nourished by the influence of heaven, the
’plant of piety’ flourished in her heart, and shed its fragrance upon her
character. Piety, after guarding her from the snares of youth, cheered her
amidst the accumulated trials of an afflicted life, supported her amidst the
agonies of death, and elevated her to the mansions of immortality! And now
behold before you—the glorified spirit of that poor child, who, under God, owes
the eternal life on which she has entered—to your faithful labors in the Sunday
School; and who is now sent by our Redeemer to introduce you to the world of
glory, as your first and least reward for guiding the once thoughtless,
ignorant, wicked Elizabeth to the world of grace! Hail, happy spirit! Hail,
favored of the Lord! Hail, deliverer of my soul! Hail, to the world of eternal
glory!"

I can trace the scene no further! I cannot paint the raptures produced in the
honored teacher’s bosom by this unexpected encounter. I cannot depict the mutual
gratitude and love of two such spirits meeting on the confines of heaven—much
less can I follow them to their everlasting mansion, and disclose the bliss
which they shall enjoy before the throne of God! All this, and a thousand times
more, is attendant upon the salvation of one single soul! Teachers, what a
motive to diligence!

Amidst surrounding millions, the faithful teacher shall stand to receive the
public plaudits of his Judge and Savior—"In as much as you have done it unto the
least of these My brethren—you have done it unto Me! Well done, good and
faithful servant, enter into the joy of your Lord!"

This most hateful disposition!

Temptations vary with our circumstances, but there is no scene from which they
are entirely excluded. There is no situation, however obscured by solitude, or
elevated by piety—from which all temptations can be effectually shut out. The
fact is, that as our chief danger arises from our own evil heart. Until we can
be separated from our vile selves, we shall look in vain for a spot sequestered
from the attack of temptation.

One temptation to which Sunday School teachers are exposed, is a spirit of
PRIDE. To be a teacher of others; to be invested with authority; to be regarded
as an oracle; to be listened to with deference; is a situation which has its
temptations, and which some weak minds have found quite too powerful for the
growth of humility.

You mistake, if you suppose that merely being a teacher of children, is too
small to induce pride. Pride is a vice that does not dwell exclusively in king’s
houses, wear only elegant clothing, and feed sumptuously every day upon lofty
titles, fame or affluence. Pride . . .is generated in the depravity of our
nature, accommodates itself to our circumstances, and adapts itself to our
taste!

Pride is found as often in the poor cottage, as in the elegant mansion.
Consciousness of superiority—whatever be the object of comparison—is the basis
of this most hateful disposition of pride; and this may be supplied even from
the office of a Sunday School teacher! Be watchful therefore, over your own
heart—for the loss of humility is a destruction in the Christian character,
which cannot be repaired by the most splendid talents, or the most active zeal.

Every child is totally depraved

It is important for you, in all your exertions, to bear in mind the total and
universal depravity of the human race. By total depravity, I do not mean that
people are as bad as they can be; for in general they lie under strong
restraints—and most do not sin with reckless abandonment. I do not mean that
they are all equally wicked; for some are less sinful than others. I do not mean
that they are destitute of everything useful, and lovely in society; for their
social affections are often strong and praiseworthy. I do not mean that their
actions are always wrong; the contrary is manifestly true.

What I mean by total depravity, is an entire destitution in the human heart by
nature—of all spiritual affection, and holy propensities. In this view, every
child is totally depraved.

To change this state of the mind, and produce a holy bias; to create a new
disposition; to turn all the affections into a new channel, and cause them to
flow towards God and heaven, is the work of the omnipotent and eternal Spirit!

Gently rubbed off by the hand of love

"Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness sake, for theirs is the
kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and
utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on My account. Rejoice and be glad,
for your reward is great in heaven!" Matthew 5:10-12

Consider it your honor to be persecuted for righteousness sake.

The richest laurel that can adorn your brow is the scorn of fools!

The praise of the wicked is censure—and their satire is praise.

Every feeble mind can scoff, but only the wise man can bear it well.

The scorner is below a man; but the man who bears scorn patiently is like an
angel.

Instead of indulging in revenge, exercise forgiveness!

You have reason rather to be grateful to the scoffer, than to be angry with him.
His foul breath, though it seems to tarnish your reputation for awhile, yet
being gently rubbed off by the hand of love, shall only prepare it for a
brighter luster.

And it shall be proved hereafter that the scorner was the occasion of adding one
more gem to the crown of glory which shall adorn your brow with unfading honor!

Pity him, for he is indeed more an object of your pity than of your contempt.
Thus prove to the scoffer that the religion which he ridicules, subdues the
turbulent and angry passions, teaches its possessor to forgive iniquities
against himself, and implants the godlike disposition of returning good for
evil.

The sum total of worldly enjoyment in those two ciphers!

"I have seen everything that is done under the sun. Look at it! All is vanity
and vexation of spirit!" Ecclesiastes 1:14

The design of Solomon in the book of Ecclesiastes seems to be this—after
detailing the good things of life to the widest extent, setting them in the
strongest light, and granting to them every possible advantage which their most
passionate admirers contend for—to demonstrate, that as they are attended with
so many inseparable evils, are so short-lived in their continuance, so
unprofitable in the hour of death, and so utterly useless in the eternal world
beyond the grave—that they are insufficient for the needs of the soul, and
inadequate to the eternal happiness of man.

No one was more capable of forming a correct opinion on this subject than
Solomon; since no man ever commanded more resources of earthly delight than he
did, or ever more eagerly availed himself of the opportunities which he
possessed. And yet he grew disgusted and dissatisfied with sensual pleasures,
and at length gives us the sum total of worldly enjoyment in those two
ciphers—vanity and vexation of spirit!

His testimony, therefore, is to be considered as that of a man who had drunk the
cup of earthly pleasures to its dregs—and who found those dregs to be wormwood,
gall, and poison! The worst enemy of mankind!

"Being examples to the flock." 1 Peter 5:3

"He will remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus, which agrees with what I
teach everywhere in every church." 1 Corinthians 4:17

They expect to see our descriptions of piety copied into our own conduct; and
happy the man who having set forth true godliness in his discourses, in all its
beautiful proportions and all its glowing colors, shall constrain the audience
to exclaim, "The painter has delineated his own likeness!" Happy the man who,
when the people shall ask, "What is true religion?" shall be not only able to
reply in reference to his pulpit, "Come and hear," but in reference to his life,
"Come and see!"

He alone is an honor to his pastoral office, who lives the gospel which he
preaches, and adorns by his conduct the doctrines which he believes. But the
unholy minister is a disgrace to Christianity, and the worst enemy of mankind!
He is the most powerful abettor of infidelity, and does more to wither the
eternal interests of mankind than the most malignant and pestiferous treatises
that ever issued from the press. If he perished alone in his sins, our feelings
might be those of unmingled pity. But when we view him ruining the souls of
others by his example, we unite abhorrence with our compassion, just as we would
at the conduct of the shepherd who first drove his flock over a precipice, and
then dashed himself upon the rocks below! An insatiable thirst after larger
attainments

The man who thinks he has enough godliness—gives a decisive proof that he has
none at all. There is in true piety, an insatiable thirst after larger
attainments . . .in knowledge, in faith, in hope, in love, in purity.

Therefore let every real Christian adopt the language of Paul, and act up to the
assertion, "Not that I have already reached the goal or am already fully mature,
but I make every effort to take hold of it because I also have been taken hold
of by Christ Jesus. Brothers, I do not consider myself to have taken hold of it.
But one thing I do—forgetting what is behind and reaching forward to what is
ahead, I pursue as my goal the prize promised byGod’s heavenly call in Christ
Jesus." Php 3:12-14

He cannot forget

"Whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains
on him." John 3:36

The Christian realizes that the whole human race is in a state of sin and ruin;
suffering all the consequences of sin in this world—and exposed to the bitter
pains of eternal death in the world to come. He is convinced that without a
fitness for the pure and spiritual joys of heaven, not one individual of all the
millions who are continually passing into eternity, can ascend to the realms of
glory and felicity. They appear, in his eyes, to be actually perishing, and
hence he is filled with the tenderest concern, and affected with the deepest
sorrow. In his estimation . . .the most agonizing diseases, the most pinching
poverty, the greatest deprivation, and the heaviest cares, are as nothing,
compared with those miseries which sin has brought upon the deathless soul.

He cannot forget, that the soul, if not saved, will become immortal in its
suffering and wretchedness.

"Whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains
on him." John 3:36

Delusive signs!

There are delusive signs of spiritual health and vigor.

Increased ability and disposition to ’talk of religion’ in the way of explaining
and defending its doctrines, may be mistaken for an increased influence of it in
the heart. Yet this may be nothing but the working of pride, or an effusion of
vanity.

To have a knowledge of the truths of Scripture, without an experience of their
influence upon the heart, is only walking to the bottomless pit with the torch
of truth in our right hand!

Zeal for some peculiar notions or forms, may be thought to be pure concern for
God’s glory. Yet all the while it may only be the most rancorous party spirit.

Liberality in giving may be merely self-righteousness or ostentation.

Undeviating formality may be erroneously thought to be ardent devotion.

Enthusiastic attachment to some novel opinion, may be erroneously supposed to be
spirituality of mind.

These are but a few specimens of the errors into which people fall, in judging
spiritual health and vigor. And they tend to show the vast importance of our
having a scriptural knowledge of the correct tests of personal godliness. As he
snuffs the gale of popular applause!

"In all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God." 2 Corinthians 6:4.

This verse implies that ministers are to labor for God—surely not for the
preacher’s fame. SELF is an idol which has been worshiped by far greater
multitudes than any other deity of either ancient or modern heathenism. A
minister is the last man in the world who should be seen at the altar of this
vile abomination—SELF. And yet without great care he is likely to be the first
one there, to linger there the longest, to bow the lowest, and to express his
devotion by the costliest sacrifices!

Many become ministers merely to acquire popular applause. ’Fame’ is their motive
and their aim. To commend themselves, is the secret but powerful spring of all
they do. SELF is with them in the study directing their reading, selecting their
texts, arranging their thoughts, forming their illustrations—and all with a view
to ’shine in public’. Thus prepared, they ascend the pulpit with the same object
which conducts the actor to the stage—to secure the applause of approving
spectators. Every tone is modulated, every emphasis laid, every attitude
regulated—to please the audience, rather than to profit their souls; to commend
themselves, and not Jesus Christ. The service ended, this bosom idol returns
with them to their own abode, and renders them restless and uneasy to know how
they have succeeded. If they are admired, they receive their reward; if not, the
first prize is lost!

It is nothing in abatement of the sin, that all this while evangelical
sentiments are uttered. Orthodoxy is the most direct road to popularity. Christ
may be the text—when SELF is the sermon! And dreadful as it seems, it is to be
feared that many have elevated the cross only to suspend upon the ’sacred tree’
their own honors! and have employed all the glories of redemption—merely to
emblazon their own name!

The ministry is not intended to be a platform, where the petty manufacturer of
’tinsel eloquence’ and ’rhetorical flowers’ shall display to a gaping crowd his
gaudy wares!

When carried to this height, this is the direst, deepest tragedy that was ever
performed by man, since it ends in the actual and eternal death of the
performer, who forgets, as he snuffs the gale of popular applause, that it bears
the vapors of damnation!

"The Spirit took me to the north gate of the temple’s inner courtyard, where
there was an idol that disgusted the Lord and made Him furious!" (Ezekiel 8:3)

This heavenly magnet!

"But God proves His own love for us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ
died for us!" Romans 5:8

It magnifies the love of God, to consider the guilt, sinfulness and unworthiness
of its objects.

As an exhibition of unparalleled love, the cross melts and captivates the heart!
Think of the attraction of the cross—when the love which it exhibits, is seen
and felt by a mind under the influence of the Holy Spirit.

What was it, my readers, which melted your hard and frozen hearts into
penitence, and gratitude and love? What was it that drew you away from your
sins? What was it that brought you as willing captives to the feet of Jesus? It
was the love of God beseeching you upon the summit of Calvary, and with open
arms bidding you welcome to the heart of Deity!

Everything else united to repel you. The terrors of justice petrified you with
horror, and despair was binding you more closely than ever to your sins—until
divine mercy appeared and told you there was hope for the guilty—in this
heavenly magnet—the cross of Christ!

Gathering around the very cradle of his infant!

The godly parent reflects on the destiny of that being which with rapture, he
calls his child. He penetrates the disguise which the ’helplessness and
unconsciousness of infancy’ seem to have thrown around that child, and discovers
the grandeur and the dignity of an immortal being! He sees in his countenance,
that face which is to shine like the sun in the skies with the glory of God—OR
to be clouded with the infamy and horror of the divine curse! He hears a voice
which is to be forever hymning the praises of its Creator—OR to be forever
venting blasphemies against its Judge!

In short, he contemplates a being born for eternity; one who will be forever
towering from height to height of glory in heaven—OR sinking from gulf to gulf
of despair in hell!

He reflects that his child is born with the latent seeds of sinful corruption in
his nature, which await only the advancing ’spring of life’ to vegetate, to
strike root, to spring up under the fatal warmth of temptation, and bear the
bitter fruits of rebellion against God.

He sees, in imagination, the world, the flesh and the devil, gathering around
the very cradle of his infant, fixing their murderous eyes upon his immortal
soul and going out to prepare for his ruin!

He realizes that his child possesses an immortal soul, which is in danger of
being forever undone! To desire anything for him less than the salvation of his
child’s immortal soul, is cruelty of the blackest kind!

The hand of faith

When the hand of faith opens to lay hold of Christ, it drops the sin it had
grasped before. You must part with your sin—or Christ. The devil’s sin

Pride is the parent sin. Pride is the original sin, both in heaven and on earth.
Pride is the devil’s sin, and that by which our first parents fell. We have all
more of this hateful disposition than we either know or suspect.

An ice house, instead of a hot house!

It appears quite clear then, that great numbers of Christian professors are but
very imperfectly acquainted with the requirements of "pure and undefiled
religion," and need to be led to re-study it in the pages of Holy Scripture. We
have lost sight of the ’divine Original’, and have confined our attention to the
’imperfect transcripts’ which we find on every hand in our churches. We have by
tacit consent reduced the standard, and fixed our eye and our aim upon an
inferior object. We are a law to each other, instead of making the Word of God
the law to us all.

We tolerate a worldly-minded, diluted, and weakened piety in others—because we
expect a similar toleration for ourselves. We make excuses for them—because we
expect the like excuses for our own conduct in return. We have abused,
shamefully abused, the fact that ’there is no perfection upon earth,’ and
converted it into a license for any measure and any number of imperfections!

Our highest notion of religion requires only abstinence from open immorality and
the more polluting worldly amusements; an attendance upon an evangelical
ministry; and an approval of orthodox doctrine. This, this, is the religion of
multitudes! There may be . . .no habitual spirituality; no heavenly-mindedness;
no life of faith; no communion with God; no struggling against sin, Satan, and
the world; no concern to grow in grace; no supreme regard to eternity; no
studied and advancing fitness for the eternal world; no tenderness of
conscience; no laborious discipline of our disposition; no cultivation of love;
no making piety our chief business and highest pleasure; no separation in spirit
from the world. In short, no impress upon the whole mind, and heart, and
conscience and life—of the character of the Christian, as delineated upon the
page of Scripture.

We all need to be taken out of ’the religious world’, as it is called, and
collected again around the Bible to study what it is to be a Christian! Let us
endeavor to forget what the bulk of professors are, and begin afresh to learn
what they ought to be.

It is to be feared that we are corrupting each other, leading each other to be
satisfied with a ’conventional piety’. Many have been actually the worse for
attending church. They were more intensely concerned and earnest before they
came into church fellowship. Their piety seemed to come into an ice house,
instead of a hot house! They grew better outside the church—than in the church.
At first they were surprised and shocked to see . . .the lukewarmness, the
irregularities, the worldliness, the inconsistencies, of many older professors,
and exclaimed, with grief and disappointment, "Is this the church of Christ!"
But after a while, the fatal influence came over them, and their piety sank to
the temperature around them!

Constant multiplication of corrupted copies

Our idea of the nature of earnest individual piety must be taken, not from the
conventional customs of the age—but from the Word of God. Once give up the Bible
as the only true standard of personal piety, and there is no rule left but
custom, which is ever varying with the opinions and corruptions of the times.

Yet how prevalent is the disposition to conform ourselves to the prevailing
religion of the day and of the church to which we belong, and to satisfy
ourselves with the average measure of piety around us! "I am as good as my
fellow members!" is the shield with which many a professor wards off the
allegation of his being below his duty.

This has been the fatal practical error of the church through every age of its
existence, by which . . .its beauty has been disfigured, its power weakened, its
usefulness impeded!

Professing Christians, instead of looking into the perfect standard of
Scripture, and seeing themselves reflected from that faithful mirror, and
adjusting their character and conduct by its infallible revelations—placed
before themselves the standard of the Christian profession as it was found in
the church of the day, and regulated their behavior by what they saw in the
prevailing character of their fellow Christians.

Thus a constant multiplication of corrupted copies has ever been going on! And
religion, as seen in the conduct of its professors, compared with that which is
described in the pages of its own inspired rule—have been quite different
things!

Let us turn away from the religion we see in the church—to the religion we read
in the Bible! Let us not go to the imperfect and blurred copy—but to the perfect
and unspotted original! The Bible’s representation of the nature of true piety
is intended for us as our guide, and is obligatory upon us!

The inspired, unalterable, and infallible standard of Scripture is . . .too
spiritual, too devout, too unearthly, too humbling, too self-denying, for many.

"Deny yourself, and take up your cross, and follow Me!" is still the stern,
unbending demand of Christ.

Satan’s workshop!

(J. A. James, speaking of the power of the press in 1848)

"I don’t want Satan to outwit us. After all, we are not ignorant about Satan’s
scheming." 2 Corinthians 2:11

The press has a great power for evil. Infidel and immoral writers are pouring
forth a deluge of skepticism and vice, which are depositing a pernicious and
pestiferous slime over the minds of the people.

Let it be imagined, if imagined it can be, what must be the state of multitudes
in this country, when millions of pestiferous publications are annually going
out among the masses of our population. Let the minds of all Christian people
dwell upon . . .the insult offered to God, the ruin brought upon souls, the
injury done to morals, and the mischief perpetrated in the nation, by such a
state of things!

These ungodly publications originate from Satan’s workshop, and reflect the
scenes of that dreadful laboratory of mental poison! These authors, printers,
publishers, booksellers, vendors, by myriads, are all busy and indefatigable—to
do what? To destroy the Bible, to corrupt the mind, to pull down the cross, to
dethrone God, to subvert true religion, to turn man into a speaking brute, to
overturn all morality, to poison the springs of domestic happiness, to dissolve
the ties of social order, to involve our country in ruin!

Satan, and all his emissaries upon earth, are in earnest in ruining men’s souls!

We have an evil to contend with—so gigantic in its strength, so diffused in its
influence all around us, so infectious and malignant in its effects!

The enemy is coming in like a flood!

Infidelity and immorality are invading us!

The alarm bell must be rung!

Every one of those little creatures will be either in heaven—or in hell

"Bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)

Fond mother, look at that babe hanging on your bosom, and those other children
sporting around your knee. And you, the father of the family, watching them
indulge in joyous emotions and playful expressions—pause, ponder,
reflect—millions of ages from that moment of domestic ecstasy, every one of
those little creatures will be either in heaven—or in hell; will be a seraph—or
a fiend; will be enduring inconceivable torment—or enjoying ineffable felicity;
will be be an associate with the devil and his demons in everlasting fire—or a
companion with the innumerable company of angels in everlasting glory!

Overwhelming thought!

How tremendous is the responsibility of a parent! The immortal destiny of your
children should be your one great, commanding, controlling, absorbing object!

But you are dead!

"I know your works; you have a reputation for being alive, but you are dead!"
Revelation 3:1

One most impressive lessons which is taught here, is that churches may have a
reputation for being in a flourishing condition—and yet be all the while in a
state of progressive decay!

How many churches are flattering themselves that they are in a flourishing
condition! The place of worship may be commodious, elegant, and free from debt.
The minister may be popular, and approved by his flock. The congregation may be
large, respectable, and influential. The finances may be good, and even
prosperous. In short, there may be every mark of external prosperity—until the
church flatters itself into the idea of its being in a high state of spiritual
health.

But examine its internal state! Inquire into its condition as viewed by God!
Inspect the private conduct of its members—and what a different aspect of things
is seen then!

How prevalent is the spirit of the world in their social fellowship! Games and
parties, scarcely differing from the fashionable circles of the worldly and the
mirthful, are kept up at much expense, and with every accompaniment of frivolity
and levity! Let a godly person of devotional taste, spiritual affections, and
tenderness of conscience, enter into the parties of such a congregation—and what
a destitution of vital piety, and what prevailing worldliness would he find!

Let us look beneath the illusive covering of external prosperity—and examine
whether disease and decay are lurking underneath!

There is often a strange contrast between the ’heavenliness’ which a church
professes—and the ’worldliness’ of her conduct.

"For you say, I am rich, I have prospered, and I need nothing; not realizing
that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked." (Revelation 3:17)
Observe the holy virtues

"In all things see that you are an example of good works—holy in your teaching,
serious in behavior." (Titus 2:7)

Never was there . . .a more pure and sincere creature; a more dutiful daughter;
a more harmless and inoffensive being, than she was! And yet how did she confess
and bewail her sinfulness in the sight of God; how entirely did she renounce all
dependence upon her own good doings, and how exclusively did she rely upon the
righteousness of Christ!

Observe the holy virtues which clustered in her character . . .how profound was
her humility how gentle her demeanor, how striking her meekness, how
uncomplaining her submission, how exemplary her patience, how exquisite her
benevolence, how ardent her zeal, how tender her attachments, how intense her
piety!

And, to crown all, how unmixed was all this with any spiritual pride, or any
sense of superiority, or any sanctimonious airs. How much is there for all of us
to learn and to copy! Be stimulated, encouraged and guided by the example of
Elizabeth Bales!

"You should be an example to the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in
faith, in purity." (1 Timothy 4:12) The damnation of one soul

"For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own
soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matthew 16:26)

One soul is of more value than the whole world!

The salvation of one soul is a greater blessing than the temporal deliverance of
an empire!

The damnation of one soul is a greater calamity than the misery of a kingdom for
a thousand ages!

"He will also drink the wine of God’s wrath, which is mixed full strength in the
cup of His anger. He will be tormented with fire and sulfur in the sight of the
holy angels and in the sight of the Lamb, and the smoke of their torment will go
up forever and ever." Revelation 14:10-11


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  CHAPTER 88: 07.01     VOLUME 1 CONT'D
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cont’d

Piety and morality

True religion consists of two parts—piety and morality.

By piety, I mean a right state of heart towards God, that is, the existence of
supreme love, arising out of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, manifested by
delight in God’s nature, reverence for His character, obedience to His commands,
gratitude for His services, and all those acts of worship which He has enjoined
in His word. True piety is the real, intelligent and cordial submission of the
whole man, to the will of God as revealed in Scripture.

By morality, I mean all those moral duties which we owe to our fellow-creatures
and to ourselves.

True religion is a right state of the soul, not only towards God, but also
towards man. It must follow us everywhere, and influence us in all things, and
at all times.

True religion gives an elevation and dignity to the whole character, and exalts
even the commonest duties of life into acts of piety.

Who can wonder?

"You should be an example to the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in
faith, in purity." 1 Timothy 4:12

Look into some families of professors; follow them through the history of only
one week, and see . . .their worldly mindedness, their gaiety, their frivolity,
their unsanctified tempers, their worldly reading, their amusements, their
homage to talent, their low esteem of holiness, their negligence of family
prayer, their neglect of godly instruction to their children—and who can wonder
that young people, brought up amidst such scenes, do not become pious—but go off
to the world or to sin?

Too often the children are like their parents, and bring into the church no
higher or better kind of religion than what they have learned at home! And thus
a low tone of piety, a lukewarm Laodicean spirit, is extended and perpetuated.

There must be a revival of piety in the parents! It is vain to expect that a
worldly-minded father, whose spirituality, if he ever had any, has been utterly
evaporated by the exclusiveness of concern about business and politics; or a
frivolous, pleasure loving mother, who thinks far more about adorning the bodies
of her children, than about saving their souls—should be at all concerned about
the pious education of their children.

Recollect what a solemn thing it is to be a parent! What a weighty
responsibility attaches to those who have the immortal souls of their children
committed to their care!

"You fathers, don’t provoke your children to wrath, but nurture them in the
discipline and instruction of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)

Take the following maxims for your guide:

(John Angell James, "An Address to the Children" 1855)

1. True piety will be your best friend—for both worlds!

2. The eye of God is always upon you, and He is present when no one else is
near!

3. Godliness is the best of all things, for it makes bitter things sweet—and
sweet things sweeter!

4. What a boy would be as a man, let him seek to be that while a boy. The boy is
the father of the man!

5. Sin is deceitful as well as wicked, leading you to commit great sins by first
tempting you to little ones; and leading you into habits of sin by asking for
only one sin at a time. "Only this once!" is Satan’s way of beguiling you into a
course of sin. What ought not to be done at all—should not be done once!

6. Avoid the first wrong step!

7. There are three things, which if lost, can never be recovered—time,
opportunity, and the soul!

8. A holy and useful life is more to be desired than a long or a prosperous one!

9. To live wholly for ourselves is a poor, base, contemptible life!

10. "When all has been heard, the conclusion of the matter is: fear God and keep
His commands. For God will bring every act to judgment, including every hidden
thing, whether good or evil." (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14)

There is wondrous power in it!

Saving faith has a great influence on all one’s feelings, actions, and
character. Though there is no merit in faith—there is wondrous power in it!
Faith is the inlet both of happiness and holiness to the soul. To believe that
the eternal God . . .is reconciled to us, pardons all our sins, receives us to
His special favor, gives us a title to eternal life, must from necessity be a
source of ineffable delight, and the cause of an entire change in all our
tastes, pursuits, and character!

True faith in Christ is . . .the foundation of the believer’s happiness, the
means of his holiness, the spring of all his actions, the true basis of his
character.

Beautiful bubbles!

Many are saying, "Who can show us anything good?" Look on us with favor, Lord.
You have put more joy in my heart than they have when their grain and new wine
abound. (Psalms 4:6-7)

There is certainly some pleasure in the gratification of the appetites—in the
enjoyment of health, friends, property, and fame. Even sinful objects have their
pleasures. There could be no power in temptation, if sin yielded no enjoyment.
But viewing man as a rational, moral, and immortal creature; as a sinner subject
to the stings of a reproachful conscience, and under the displeasure of the God
he has offended; as liable to all the vicissitudes of a tearful existence, and
ever exposed to the fear and stroke of death—he needs something more for his
happiness,than can be found in the objects of this world. He has . . .needs
which they cannot supply; cravings which they cannot satisfy; woes which they
cannot alleviate; anxieties which they cannot dispel. For each one that is even
tolerably successful in gaining felicity from visible objects, there are many
who utterly fail. Their schemes are frustrated; their hopes perish; their air
castles vanish as they journey on in life. And each ends a course of
worldly-mindedness, by adding another to the millions of examples which have
proved this presentworld to be vanity.

In some cases, abundance and unobstructed enjoyment produce revulsion. Tired of
old pleasures, they look about for new ones, and plead the oft-repeated inquiry,
"Who will show us anything good?" Novelty perhaps comes to the relief of their
discontented, restless, and dissatisfied minds; but novelty itself soon grows
old, and still something new is wanted. There remains an aching void within, a
craving, hungry appetite for bliss—unsatisfied, unfed. They hunt for enjoyment .
. .in endless parties of pleasure, in every place of amusement, in every scene
of diversion; in the dance, and in the game; in the theater, and in the concert;
amidst the scenes of nature, and in the changes of foreign travel. But
happiness, like a shadow ever flitting before them, and ever eluding their
grasp, tantalizes them with its form, without yielding them its substance; and
excites their hopes—only to disappoint them!

What are all the pleasures of time and sense, all the objects of this visible
world—but as the dropping of pebbles into a deep chasm, which, instead of
filling it up, only tell them how deep it is—by awakening the dismal echoes of
emptiness and desolation.

Look at the worldling. Does he succeed in his quest for happiness? Is he
satisfied? Let him possess all he seeks, all he wishes, all that earth can
furnish; let rank be added to wealth, and fame to both; let a constant round of
fashionable amusements, festive scenes, and elegant parties, follow in endless
succession, until his cup is full to overflowing. What does it all amount to?
"All that my eyes desired, I did not deny them. I did not refuse myself any
pleasure. When I considered all that I had accomplished and what I had labored
to achieve, I found everything to be futile and a pursuit of the wind! There was
nothing to be gained under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 2:1-26)

Have not multitudes since Solomon’s time, made the same melancholy confession?
Is it not a general admission, that the pleasure of worldly objects arises more
from hope and anticipation—rather than possession? They are like beautiful
bubbles, which, as they float, reflect the colors of the rainbow—but dissolve
and vanish when grasped! Tell me, votaries of earthly good, have you realized
what you expected? Are not the scenes of festivity and amusement resorted to, by
many with aching hearts? Does not the smiling countenance often conceal a
troubled spirit; and is not the laugh resorted to in order to suppress the sigh?

Even if it were granted, that the possession of wealth, the gratifications of
taste, and the indulgence of appetite, could give happiness in seasons of health
and prosperity—they must inevitably fail in the day of sickness and adversity.
If they were satisfying for a season—they are all fragile and uncertain! All the
enjoyments of this life are like gathered flowers, which are no sooner plucked,
than they begin to lose their beauty and their fragrance while we look at them
and smell them; and which, however mirthful and beautiful they appeared while
they were growing—begin to wither as soon as they are in our hands!


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  CHAPTER 89: 07.02.     VOLUME 2
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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

Like a ball and chain around his ankle!

"Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin which so easily besets
you." Hebrews 12:1

Besetting sins are powerful hindrances to Christian progress. In the case of
most people, there is some one sin to which, either from their situation, taste,
constitution, or other circumstances—they are more powerfully tempted than to
others.

Satan knows very well what in every case this is, and skillfully adapts his
temptations to it. He is an expert angler, and never chooses his bait, or throws
his line, at random! Independently, however, of him, the very tendency of the
heart is in that direction.

That one sin, whatever it is, while indulged, will hold you back! You cannot
make progress in holiness, until it is mortified. Even its partial indulgence,
though it may be considerably weakened, will hinder you!

Study then your situation, circumstances, and constitution. You cannot be
ignorant which temptation and sin, you are most liable to succumb to. You must
know in what way you have most frequently wounded your conscience, and
occasioned to yourself shame and sorrow.

Is it an unsanctified temper?

Is it an impure imagination?

Is it a proud heart?

Is it a vain mind?

Is it a taste for worldly company?

Is it a proneness to envy and jealousy?

Is it a love of money?

Is it a tendency to exaggeration in speech?

Is it a fondness for pleasure?

Is it a disposition to censoriousness and backbiting?

Study yourselves! Examine your own heart! You must find out this matter, and it
requires no great pains in order to know it. It floats upon the surface of the
heart, and does not lie hidden in its depths. There, there, is your danger! As
long as that one sin, be it what it may, is indulged, you cannot advance in the
Christian life!

Other sins are like unnecessary clothing to the racer.

Besetting sins are like a ball and chain around his ankle!

Is this your religion?

"If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing!"
1 Corinthians 13:2

LOVE is a grace which many professing Christians think far too little about; but
it is of infinite value in the eyes of God. Love is the most characteristic
feature of Christ’s image in a renewed man. Love is the most precious fruit of
grace; and yet the fruit which too many of His professed followers seem to think
themselves hardly under any obligation to cultivate.

Christian love is that benevolent disposition or kindness, which consists in
good-will to all creatures, and which leads us, as we have opportunity, to
promote their happiness.

The apostle has given us a description of the exercises of this noble and
god-like principle.

"Love is patient" and forbearing under injuries and annoyances—and does not
revile, revenge, or retaliate.

"Love is kind," not harsh or crude—but ever ready, willing, and pleased by
looks, words, and actions, to promote the comfort of others.

"Love does not envy." It does not pine and grieve at the sight of another’s
superior possessions, fame, happiness, or piety—and dislike him on that account.

"Love does not boast. Love is not proud." It neither boasts its own gifts,
achievements, and possessions, nor despises others, nor makes insulting
comparisons—but is humble and gentle.

"Love does not behave unseemly." It modestly keeps its place, and does nothing
to offend by what is unfitting its rank, station, or circumstances.

"Love seeks not her own." It does not selfishly want to have its own way, or
promote its own interest—to the neglect of others.

"Love is not easily provoked." It governs its temper, controls its passions, and
is not soon or unreasonably irritable or petulant.

"Love thinks no evil." It is not censorious, nor forward to impute a bad motive
to a doubtful action—but is disposed to put the best construction on the actions
and words of others.

"Love rejoices not in iniquity—but rejoices in the truth." It does not delight
in the sins—but in the excellences of an opponent.

"Love bears (or covers) all things." It does not divulge, proclaim, aggravate
faults—but hides them as far as it can, and it is right to do so.

"Love believes all things," that are to the advantage of another.

"Love hopes all things," where there is not sufficient evidence to authorize
belief.

"Love endures all things," bears hardships, sustains labor, makes sacrifices—in
order to accomplish its purposes of good-will.

Such is love in exercise and act. This is benevolence—this is a regard to the
happiness of others. Whoever acts thus, must promote happiness. He must bless
all around him. All things smile in his presence.

Beautiful description! Heavenly temper! Godlike mind!

Now, dear friends, look at love! Gaze upon . . .its lovely form, its beautiful
countenance, its graceful actings.

Observe its seraphic glow, its divine temper, until you are all enamored with
its charms. But look at it not only as something to be admired—but to be
possessed and practiced. Unless this is your temperament, you are not
Christians. I do not say you cannot be Christians unless you have love in
perfection. But you must have the principle of love, and must be living in its
exercise. You are Christians no further than you live under its influence. No
matter what knowledge you may have of the doctrines of the gospel; what seeming
faith you may possess; what zeal you may manifest; what liberality you may
exercise; what regularity, and punctuality in attendance upon the means of
grace, you may maintain—if love is lacking, all this is of no avail.

Nothing can be a substitute for love.

Christianity is love . . . not a slavish attendance on ceremonies; not receiving
the sacraments; not zeal for orthodoxy; not a form of church government; not
belonging to any particular church.

God’s eternal thoughts and purposes in election, Christ’s redeeming work upon
the cross, the Spirit’s omnipotent agency in regeneration, are not merely to
bring us under a particular ecclesiastical regimen—but to deliver us from the
dominion of selfishness, and place us under the reign of love—and thus make us
like God!

If an individual is destitute of love, he has no saving religion. He may be
zealous for the forms of Christianity, but he is destitute of its living spirit.

And now, my dear friends, let me entreat you to examine yourselves concerning
this great essential of the Christian character. Are you experimentally
acquainted with this disposition? Is this your religion? Is your temperament
thus molded? Is that one word ’love’ characteristic of your spirit? Has God’s
love to you, changed you into its own ikeness? Do you know what it is to have
pride, passion, envy, malice, selfishness—subdued, repressed, resisted—by a
meek, gentle, lowly, forgiving, forbearing, generous, self-denying temper? Are
the harshness, hardness, asperity of the fallen nature, displaced by the
softness, sweetness, and kindness of true love?

They shall not swoon, nor halt, nor turn back

How full of encouragement is the language of the prophet Isaiah, "But those who
hope in the Lord will find new strength. They will fly high on wings like
eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not be faint."
Isaiah 40:31

This beautiful passage contains a promise of continued supplies of grace and
strength to all who really desire to serve the Lord with integrity and
simplicity. In the image of the eagle, the prophet alludes to the strength of
wing and of vision possessed by this noble bird—whereby it ascends to a lofty
height, untired and undazzled—soaring even above the fogs and mists of the lower
regions of the air, mounting above the very clouds, undeterred by the lightning,
and floating in the pure azure above!

Thus shall all who hope in the Lord rise higher and higher, upon the mighty
wings of strong devotion, and with the unblinking eye of faith—into the regions
of heavenly mindedness; and shall approach nearer and nearer to God—the sun of
our spiritual day.

"They will run" in the heavenly race, for the crown of immortal glory, "and not
grow weary." Their strength, instead of being exhausted, shall, contrary to what
occurs in bodily effort—be increased by exertion. No length nor greatness of
labor shall be too much for them. God shall pour into their souls, fresh energy
for every fresh effort.

"They will walk and not be faint." Their pilgrimage may be arduous; the road may
be long and rugged; often up steep ascents, and down into deep and rocky crags,
where every step is a labor—but they shall not lose heart or hope; they shall
not swoon, nor halt, nor turn back—but go forwards, sustained by a power greater
than their own!

Dethroned—but not destroyed!

"For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwells no good thing: for to will
is present with me; but how to perform that which is good I find not." Romans
7:18

A Christian is truly regenerated—but at the same time only partially sanctified.

Sin is dethroned—but not destroyed!

His predominant taste and disposition are holy—but godly principles may not yet
have struck their roots very deep into his soul.

His holy purposes are somewhat vacillating, and his inclinations to evil
sometimes strong.

We have the burden of our fleshly corruptions to carry, which without great
labor and effort, will sadly retard us in our Christian lives.

We are like a traveler who is on a smooth road, has fine weather, is intimately
acquainted with the way, and has agreeable and helpful companions—but who at the
same time is very lame, or has a load to carry. His lameness or his load will be
a great delay to him. His attention must be directed to these things. He must
cure the one or lighten the other, or he will make slow progress. A poor, weak,
and trembling creature

"He will feed His flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in His arms,
holding them close to His heart." Isaiah 40:11

Dwell upon the love and tenderness of our Lord Jesus!

Notice who are the objects of His care—"the lambs," which means not only those
of tender age—but also those who have been newly converted; those who are young
in Christian experience; and also those whose temperament is naturally timid,
whose strength is feeble, and whose danger is great.

Yes, you are the objects of Christ’s special attention, care, and solicitude!
You are those whom He takes up in the arms of His power—and lays on the bosom of
His love! He knows . . .your weakness, your timidity, your dangers! He will
exert for you . . . His tenderest sympathy, His greatest vigilance, His
mightiest power.

This expression however not only conveys the idea of great care of the weak—but
the exercise of that care with a view to their preservation and growth. It means
not only that He cordially receives them, will provide for their safety, be
concerned for their comfort, and will accommodate His conduct to their needs—but
He will also nourish them through their infant existence, and raise them up to
maturity and strength.

Let every lamb of the flock of Christ, therefore, go to Him by faith and prayer,
and say, "Blessed Jesus, I come to you as a poor, weak, and trembling creature,
doubtful of my own continuance, and alarmed at my numerous difficulties and
enemies. I am but a lamb, and often fear I shall never be anything better. But
was it not in regard to such weakness that You have been pleased to utter these
gracious and tender words? I flee to you as the helpless lamb to its
shepherd—when hungry, to feed it—or when pursued by wild beasts, that he may
defend it. Lord, take me in the arms of Your power and lay me on the bosom of
Your love—though I am so poor and helpless a creature. I will hope in your
nurturing power and love, that I shall continue to grow, and that You will one
day rejoice in me, as one of the flock which You have purchased with Your own
blood!" This pleasure-loving, pleasure-seeking, and pleasure-inventing age A
taste for worldly amusements will inevitably prove, wherever it is indulged—a
powerful obstacle to growth in grace.

Man is unquestionably made for enjoyment. He has a capacity for bliss—an
instinctive appetite for gratification; and for this, God has made ample
provision of a healthful and lawful kind. But "a taste for worldly pleasure"
means that this God-given capacity is directed to wrong sources, or carried to
an excess.

Now there are some amusements which in their very nature are so utterly
incompatible with true godliness, that a liking for them, and a hankering after
them, and especially an indulgence in them—cannot exist with real, earnest, and
serious piety.

The dissolute parties of the glutton and the drunkard; the fervency for the
gambling-table; the pleasures of the race-course; the performances of the
theater—are all of this kind. A taste for them is utterly uncongenial with a
spirit of godliness! So is a love for the gay and fashionable entertainments of
the ball-room, and the wanton parties of the upper classes. These are all
unfriendly to true religion, and are usually renounced by people intent upon the
momentous concerns of eternity.

We would not doom to perdition, all who are at any time found in this round of
worldly pleasure—but we unhesitatingly say, that a taste for them is entirely
opposed to the whole spirit of Christianity! They are all included in that
"world" which is overcome by faith and the new birth.

True religion is, though a happy, a very serious thing—and can no more live and
flourish in the uncongenial atmosphere of those parties, than could a young
tender plant survive, if brought into a frigid zone!

But in this pleasure-loving, pleasure-seeking, and pleasure-inventing age, there
is a great variety of amusements perpetually rising up, which it would be
impossible to say are sinful, and therefore unlawful. Yet the ’supposition of
their lawfulness’ viewed in connection with their abundance, variety, and
constant repetition, is the very thing that makes them dangerous to the spirit
of true religion.

A taste for even lawful worldly amusements, which leads its possessor to be fond
of them, seeking them, and longing for them—shows a mind that is in a very
doubtful state as to vital piety.

A Christian is not to partake of the pleasures of the world, merely to prove
that his religion does not debar him from enjoyment. But he is to let it be seen
by his "peace which passes understanding," and his "joy unspeakable and full of
glory," that his godliness gives far more enjoyment than it takes away—that, in
fact, it gives him the truest happiness!

The way to win a worldly person to true religion is not to go and partake of his
amusements; but to prove to him, that we are happier with our pleasures—than he
is with his; that we bask in full sunshine—while he has only a smoking candle;
that we have found the "river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding
from the throne of God and the Lamb"—while he is drinking of the muddy streams
which issue from the earth!

"Many are asking, ’Who can show us any good?’ Let the light of your face shine
upon us, O Lord. You have filled my heart with greater joy than when their grain
and new wine abound!" Psalms 4:6-7

After all, it is freely admitted— 1. That true religion is not hostile to
anything which is not hostile to it. 2. That many things which are not strictly
pious, though not opposed to piety—may be lawfully enjoyed by the Christian. 3.
That what he has to do in this matter is not to practice total abstinence—but
"moderation". 4. Yet the Christian should remember how elastic a term
"moderation" is, and to be vigilant lest his moderation should continually
increase its latitude, until it has swelled into the imperial tyranny of an
appetite which acknowledges no authority—and submits to no restraint!

Growing worse?

One of the last lessons we effectually learn, is that true godliness is a
constant conflict in a believer’s heart—between sin and holiness.

Some sincere believers mistake a clearer view, and deeper sense of their
depravity, for an actual increase of sin. The Christian seems sometimes to
himself, to be growing worse, when actually it is only that he sees more clearly
what in fact he really is!

In the early stages of our Christian life, we have usually but a slender
acquaintance with the evil of our sinfulness, and the depravity of our heart.
The mind is so much taken up with pardon and eternal life, that it is but
imperfectly acquainted with those depths of deceit and wickedness, which lie
hidden in itself.

At first we seem to feel as if the serpent were killed. But we soon find that he
was only asleep—for by the warmth of some fiery temptation, he is revived and
hisses at us again!

Nothing astonishes an inexperienced believer more than the discoveries he is
continually making of the evils of his heart. Corruptions which he never dreamt
to be in him, are brought out by some new circumstances.

It is like turning up the soil, which brings out worms and insects, which did
not appear upon the surface.

Or to vary the illustration, his increasing knowledge of God’s holy nature, of
the perfect law, and the example of Christ—is like opening the shutters, and
letting light into a dark room, the filth of which, the inhabitant did not see
until the sunbeams disclosed it to him.

As your Biblical knowledge widens

There are many who regard an increasing acquaintance with the text of the Bible,
as an evidence of growth in grace.

Ask yourselves the solemn question. In proportion as you store your minds with
biblical texts and biblical ideas—are you all the while seeking to have your
heart filled with biblical feelings, and your life with biblical actions?

As you grow in acquaintance with the character of God—do you reverence Him more?
As your ideas brighten on the person of Christ—do you love Him more? As you
become more acquainted with the perfection and spirituality of God’s Word—do you
delight in it more? As you see more clearly the evil of sin—do you hate it with
a more intense hatred?

As your Biblical knowledge widens, do you become . . .more profoundly humble,
more tenderly conscientious, more gentle, more spiritual?

Unless this is the case, you are in a fatal mistake by supposing that you are
making progress in the divine life, merely because you are advancing in biblical
knowledge.

We live by faith

"We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Corinthians 5:7

Faith is the root of all true piety. Christians need faith for sanctification,
consolation, and perseverance. Every act of the spiritual life is an act of
faith. Every step in the spiritual walk is a step of faith. The Christian’s
course is not one of merely ’doing’, but of believing.

His prayers are the breathings of faith; his works are the actings of faith; his
penitence is the tear of faith; his joy is the smile of faith; his hopes are the
anticipations of faith; his fears are the tremblings of faith; his strength is
the confidence of faith; his submission is the acquiescence of faith.

Faith is the eye which looks at Christ.

Faith is the foot which moves to Christ.

Faith is the hand which receives Christ.

Faith is the mouth which feeds upon Christ.

It is not only by the activity of obedience, but by the ’silent and passive
power of dependence’, that the Christian is made strong and victorious.

"We live by faith, not by sight." Here is the reason why so many professors are
so worldly and so weak; why they make such little progress, and such small
attainments. They are so much under the dominion of sense, and are so almost
wholly given up to a life of sight, that they have neither time nor inclination
to look at the things which are unseen and eternal.

There is in them no habitual looking to Christ, no abiding in Him, no vivid
consciousness that all their springs are in Him, and that it is from His
fullness they are to receive necessary grace.

We must prefer the invisible realities of eternity, to the visible things of
time; and amid all that is . . .dazzling to sight, gratifying to appetite, and
dear to passion, by faith, spend a life of . . .self-denial, mortification of
sin, and separation from the world.

Be this then your sincere and earnest prayer, my dear friends, "Lord, increase
our faith!" Be willing to have the world displaced from your soul, to make room
for the objects of faith! Be ever ready to come from the dazzling glare of
earthly scenes, to dwell in the calm and holy light of faith. Study the
Scriptures, and meditate much upon their contents. Frequent and devout converse
with the objects of faith, is the best way to have it increased.

Watch diligently against the influence of those objects which have a fatal
tendency to eclipse faith’s light, to obstruct its operation, and enfeeble its
life—namely, sensual pleasure; eager pursuit of the world; and a too intimate
converse with those who mind earthly things. To live and walk by faith

"The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me
and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20

To live and walk by faith, is to come daily to Jesus in the exercise of fresh
dependence, fresh expectations, and fresh devotedness.

To live and walk by faith, is to see more of His glory and grace continually,
and to rejoice greater in His unsearchable riches, and inexhaustible fullness.

To live and walk by faith, is in all our conflicts, sins, fears, weaknesses, and
woes—to resort afresh to Jesus, with a full persuasion that we are welcome, and
thus ever to derive strength and courage from Him. A little more comfort,
luxury, or elegance

"During supper, a woman came in with a beautiful jar of expensive perfume. She
broke the seal and poured the perfume over His head." Mark 14:3

"She did what she could!" Mark 14:8

Have you, like your devoted sister of Bethany, done what you could? Take an
inventory of the means which the Lord has put into your hands for honoring Him,
and then look over the list of your contributions.

What proportion does your annual giving to the cause of Christ bear, compared to
the cost of . . .your furniture, your wardrobe, your entertainments, your
ornaments and decorations, your luxuries?

Jesus did not withhold from you His very precious blood! What are you willing to
do for Him? What beautiful jar of expensive perfume have you broken, will you
break for Him?

It is sorrowful to see professing Christians wholly taken up in getting wealth
for themselves—either hoarding it up—or spending it in the luxuries that
constitute "the pride of life."

Consider, I entreat you, the different results of the money you spend upon
yourselves—and that which you spend upon Christ. The money you spend selfishly
perishes in the using. The money you spend for the cause of Christ acquires an
imperishable existence.

What you spend in the comforts and elegancies of life—and what you hoard
unnecessarily—dies with you, when you die. But the wealth which, under the
influence of pure motives, we devote to Christ, will never die. It is immortal
and incorruptible.

Oh Christians! how is it that we can cheat ourselves of such heavenly felicity
and eternal honor, merely to have a little more comfort, luxury, or elegance
here? Why do we impoverish ourselves in the eternal world, to enrich ourselves
in this present world?

Oh God! Bestow upon us Your grace, that when we meet You in judgment, we may
hear this commendatory testimony from Your gracious lips, "They did what they
could!" Our recreations and entertainments

"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of
God." 1 Corinthians 10:31

Our piety should appear in our recreations and entertainments, separating us
from the follies and amusements of the world; allowing neither what is
polluting, nor what is frivolous.

True piety should not only keep us from the theater, the ball-room, and the
public concert; but should prevent us from turning our own homes into the
’resorts of fashion’, and the scenes of light and dissipating entertainments. A
sublime fiction

"Their destiny is destruction . . . their mind is on earthly things." Php 3:19

This is the description given by the apostle, of the predominant taste and
pursuits of the men of the world.

Sadly, this also describes a large proportion of those who have ’professed’ to
come out from the world, and to be a people separated unto God. How engrossed
are they, not only in the business, but in the cares, the love, and the
enjoyment of earthly vanities! Who would imagine, to see their conduct, to hear
their conversation, to observe their spirit—so undevout, and so worldly—that
these were the men, who have heaven in their eye and heart, as their eternal
destiny? We would be inclined to think, that to them, heaven is nothing more
than . . .a mere name, a sublime fiction, a sacred vision, which, with all its
splendor, has scarcely power enough to engage their thoughts and fix their
regards! How little effect has heaven . . .to elevate them above a predominant
earthly-mindedness, to comfort them in trouble, to minister to their happiness,
to mortify their corruptions.

Can it be that they are seeking for, and going to glory, honor, and
immortality—who think so little about it, and derive so small a portion of their
enjoyment from the expectation of it?

"Their destiny is destruction . . . their mind is on earthly things." Php 3:19

Holiness

"You ought to live holy and godly lives." 2 Peter 3:11

Holiness is a very comprehensive word, and expresses a state of mind and conduct
that includes many things.

Holiness is the work of the Spirit in our sanctification.

Holiness is the fruit of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.

Holiness is the operation of the new nature, which we receive in regeneration.

Holiness may be viewed in various aspects, according to the different objects to
which it relates.

Toward God, holiness is . . .supreme love; delight in His moral character;
submission to His will; obedience to His commands; zeal for His cause; seeking
of His glory.

Toward Christ, holiness is . . .a conformity to His example, imbibing His
spirit.

Toward man, holiness is . . .charity, integrity, truth, mercy.

Toward sin, holiness is a hatred of all iniquity, a tender conscience easily
wounded by little sins, and scrupulously avoiding them; together with a
laborious, painful, self-denying, mortification of all the known corruptions of
our heart.

Toward self, holiness is . . .the control of our fleshly appetites; the
eradication of our pride; the mortification of our selfishness.

Toward divine things in general, holiness is . . .spirituality of mind, the
habitual current of godly thought, godly affections flowing through the soul.

And, toward the objects of the unseen world, holiness is heavenly-mindedness, a
turning away from things seen and temporal, to things unseen and eternal.

Oh, what a word is holiness! How much does it comprehend! How little is it
understood, and how much less is it practiced!

Honor, wealth, and pleasure lose their charms

"Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I obey Your word. It was good for
me to be afflicted!" Psalms 119:67, Psalms 119:71

Afflictions tend to wean us from the world—and to fix our affections on things
above.

We are all too worldly!

We gravitate too much to earth!

Our feet stick in the mire, and we do not soar aloft on the wings of faith and
hope into the regions above, as we ought.

We are like moles—when we should be like eagles!

Hence the need, and the benefit too, of afflictions.

How differently things look, when seen from the chamber of sickness—or the grave
of a loved one! Honor, wealth, and pleasure lose their charms then, and present
no beauty, that we should desire them. We then seem to regard the world as an
impostor which has deceived us, and turn from it with disgust!

The loss of a loved one, does more to prove the truth of Solomon’s description
of the ’vanity of everything beneath the sun’, than all the sermons we have ever
heard, and all the volumes we have ever read! The divine Craftsman

"God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in His holiness." Hebrews
12:10

God does not afflict His children willingly. He takes no delight in seeing our
tears—or hearing our groans. But He does take delight in . . .doing us good,
making us holy, conforming us to His own image, and fitting us to dwell in His
own presence.

He treats us as the sculptor does the marble under his hand, which from a rough
unsightly mass, he intends to carve into a splendid statue—a glorious work of
art. Every application of the chisel, every blow of the mallet, is to strike off
some bit of the stone, which must be removed to bring out the figure in
perfection, which he designs to form.

In our case, how much is necessary to be struck off from our corrupt nature,
before we can be brought into that form and beauty which it is the intention of
the divine Craftsman that we should bear. How much . . .pride, vanity,
carnality, worldly-mindedness, self-sufficiency, independence, creature-love,
earthly dependence; must be removed by each blow of the mallet, and each cut of
the chisel, before the beauties of . . .holiness, humility, meekness,
heavenly-mindedness; and all the graceful proportions and features of His own
image, can be exhibited in us. The design of the divine Artist

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to
those who are the called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

In this present world, you may never see how the death of your husband is for
good. Many go all their lives without having the ’mystifying characters’ of the
sad event deciphered—and the secret workings of God’s love laid open. They die
in ignorance of His plans—though not of His purposes.

The ’finished side’ of the embroidery may never be turned to you here; and
looking only at the tangled threads and dark colors of the ’back part’—all now
appears to be in confusion!

But when the ’front view’ shall be seen; and the design of the divine Artist;
and all the connections of the finely embroidered piece shall be pointed out;
and the coloring shall be shown in the light of eternity—with what adoring
wonder, delight, and gratitude will you exclaim, as the ’whole picture’ bursts
upon your sight, "O the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable are His methods! How unfathomable are His ways! All things have
worked together for my good!"

You shall trace together the providential events of your earthly history. You
shall learn why you were united—and why separated. You shall see the wisdom and
goodness of those events, which once appeared so dark, and drew so many tears
from your eyes. You shall indulge in reminiscences, all of which will furnish .
. .new occasions of wonder; new motives to praise; and new sources of delight!

You shall point one another to the vista of everlasting ages opening before you,
through which an endless succession of joys are advancing to meet you! And then,
filled with a pure, unearthly love for each other, you shall fall down before
the throne of the Lamb, and feel every other affection absorbed in supreme,
adoring love to Him!

Such a scene is before you! And since it is—then bear your sorrows, afflicted
widow—for in what felicities are they to result—and how soon!

"And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to
those who are the called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

A lamb with a wolf’s head!

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." Php 2:5

Christians should excel in the manifestation of Christ’s character. The mind
which was in Jesus, should be in them. They should consider His character as a
model of their own; and be conspicuous for their . . .poverty of spirit,
meekness, gentleness, and love.

It is matter of surprise and regret, that many people seem to think that
Christianity has nothing to do with character! And that provided they are free
from gross sins, and have lively feelings in devotional exercises, they may be
as petulant, irritable, and implacable as they please! This is a dreadful error,
and has done great mischief to the cause of God!

A sour, ill-natured Christian, is like a lamb with a wolf’s head! Or like a dove
with a vulture’s beak!

If there be any one word which above all others should describe a Christian’s
character, it is that which represents his divine Father; and as it is said,
that ’God is love’, so should it be also affirmed, that a Christian is love—love
embodied, an incarnation of love! His words, his conduct, his very looks—should
be so many expressions of love!

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in
Christ God forgave you. Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children
and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us!"
Ephesians 4:32, Ephesians 5:1-2

The beauties of social virtue

A Christian should be very eminent for a right discharge of all their social
duties. Christianity, so far from loosening the bands of society, adds to them
incredible strength and firmness, by motives drawn from the eternal world. One
part of the design of Christianity is to purify and strengthen the social
principle, and carry it to its greatest elevation and perfection.

A good Christian—and yet a bad husband, father, brother, neighbor, or citizen—is
an anomaly.

Professing Christians should excel all others in the beauties of social virtue.
True religion should give . . . additional tenderness to the marital
relationship; greater love to the Christian parent; loving obedience to the
Christian child; fresh kindness to the Christian employer; diligence to the
Christian employee. The world should look to the church with this conviction,
"Well, if social virtue were driven from every other portion of society, it
would find a sanctuary, and be cherished with care, among Christians." Then will
Christianity have attained its highest recognition upon earth, when it shall be
admitted by universal consent, that to say a man is a Christian, is an
indisputable testimony to his excellence in all the relationships he bears to
society.

"Beware of the dog!"

"Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love."
Ephesians 4:2.

There are some people whose feelings are like dry straw—kindled into a blaze in
a moment, by the least spark which has been purposely or accidentally thrown
upon it. A word, or a look—is in some cases quite enough to be considered a very
serious injury! It is a common thing for such people to excuse themselves on the
ground that ’their feelings are so delicate’—that they are offended by the least
touch! This is a humiliating confession, for it is acknowledging that, instead
of being like the oak of the forest, which laughs at the tempest, and is unmoved
by the tread of the wild boar—they resemble the sensitive plant, a little
squeamish shrub, which trembles before the breeze, and shrivels and contracts
beneath the pressure of a tiny insect!

Delicate feelings!! In plain English, this means that they are petulant,
irritable and peevish! I would like to have a sign hung around the neck of such
people—and it would be this, "Beware of the dog!"

We should never allow ourselves to be offended, until, at least, we are sure
that offense was intended; and this is really not so often as we are apt to
conclude. Had we but patience to wait, or humility to inquire, we would find
that many hurtful things were done by mistake, which we are prone to attribute
to design. How often do we violate that love which thinks no evil, and which
imperatively demands of us to attribute a good motive to another’s conduct—until
a bad motive is proved!

Let us then deliberately determine, that, by God’s grace, we will not be easily
offended. If such a resolution were generally made and kept, offenses would
cease. Let us first ascertain whether offense was intended, before we allow the
least emotion of anger to be indulged. And even then, when we have proved that
the offense was committed on purpose, let us next ask ourselves whether it is
necessary to notice it. What wise man will think it worth while, when an insect
has stung him, to pursue itall day, in order to punish the aggressor? OUR
church?!

"I will build My church." Matthew 16:18

The power of a church is simply a right to put their own interpretation upon the
laws of Christ, and to obey His laws, in the way which they think will be most
agreeable to Him.

This is neither understood nor remembered with as much distinctness as it should
be. Hence it is a very usual thing for churches to consider themselves as met to
make laws, and set in order the affairs of the spiritual kingdom. A great deal
is said about "our church," and "rules that we have established in our church."
OUR church?! When did it become OURS? The church is Christ’s! The rules WE have
established?! The sole right of making laws, is with Him to whom the church
belongs!

The church is a kingdom, of which Christ is sole monarch! The New Testament is
His spiritual code, and all the power we have, is to execute the laws which He
has already established!

In the whole business of church government, we are to acknowledge His authority,
and consider ourselves as doing His will. Nothing is left . . .to our will, to
our wisdom, to our caprice; but in all things we are to be guided by the law of
Jesus, as laid down in His Word!

In the choice of officers, in the admission of members, in the exercise of
discipline—we are not to act upon views and principles of our own. We are to be
guided by those we find in the New Testament. We have no power to legislate; but
merely to interpret the His law—and obey.

When we meet, Christ is in the midst of us, not only by His essential
presence—but by His revealed will. Every authoritative voice is hushed—but that
which speaks to us from the sacred Word of God.

When a new member is proposed, we are not to ask, "Is he such a one as we think
will add respectability to our church? is he of long standing in the ways of
God? is he peculiar in his habits?" Our only question is, "Is he one who Christ
has received as His child?"

When a new measure is submitted for our adoption, we are not first to inquire
into its policy; but whether it is in exact accordance with the general
principles and spirit of the New Testament.

Every act of church government must be an explicit acknowledgment of the
authority of Jesus, as King of HIS church, and an act of obedience to HIS laws!

It is impossible for this sentiment to be stated too frequently or too forcibly.
It lays the axe to the root of all the errors on church government, which have
crept into the world.

There is the image of Christ!

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." Php 2:5

Press right home to your conscience the question, "What do I have of the mind of
Christ?" Does my heart answer, does my disposition correspond, to the holy,
meek, humble, forgiving, benevolent, patient, self-denying mind of Christ? Do
men who know the beauty and glory of the Original, as it is delineated on the
page of the gospel, when they see me, say, "There is the image of Christ!"

Or do they look skeptically on, and after standing in silence for some time,
profess they can see little or no resemblance? Oh, be satisfied with nothing
short of a copy of Christ’s heart into yours!

A love for pleasure, diversion and recreation

One characteristic of our age is an ever-growing taste for elegance, refinement,
and luxurious gratification.

But just in proportion as we multiply the ’attractions of earth’—is the danger
of our making it our all—and leaving heaven out of sight. This is now affecting
the church, and the godly and self-denying spirit of our practical Christianity
is in danger of being weakened, and of degenerating into a soft and sickly
wastefulness.

Elegance, extravagance, luxurious entertainments and expensive feasts, are
beginning to corrupt the simplicity that is in Christ. And amid our . .
.sumptuous homes, gorgeous furniture, costly dress, and mirthful decorations,
professors of religion are setting their affections too much upon things upon
earth, and turning away from the glory of the cross—to the vanities of the
world!

Akin to this, is a continually augmenting desire after amusement, for which
droves are constantly yearning. A love for pleasure, diversion and recreation,
is an ever-increasing appetite—and there are those who are ever ingenious and
ever busy to supply its demands. Men are continually inventing new kinds of
diversions and endless devices, to blot from the mind all considerations of
eternity.

The people, it is affirmed, must have recreation. Be it so—but let it be of a
healthful kind—a taste for wholesome literature, quiet home enjoyments, and,
above all, the sacred delights of true piety.

Who will call them off from these ’painted nothings’, and make them feel how
vain are all these things? Who will set up a barricade against the billows of
this ocean of worldly-mindedness, and guard the piety of the church from being
entirely swept away by a flood of worldliness and ungodliness?

Humility is the crowning grace, the finishing stroke of beauty, and the
brightest ray of glory, in the Christian character.

A godly ministry

We can do nothing without a godly ministry. Of all the curses which God ever
pours from the vials of His wrath upon a nation which He intends to scourge,
there is not one so fearful as giving them up to an unholy ministry.

I trust our churches will ever consider piety as the first and most essential
qualification in their pastors, for which talents, genius, learning, and
eloquence, would and could be no substitutes. It will be a dark and evil day
when personal godliness shall be considered as secondary to any other quality in
those who serve at the altar of God.

No ministry will be really effective, whatever may be its eloquence, which is
not a ministry of . . .strong faith, true spirituality, and deep earnestness.

Dead things never grow!

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in
Me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so
that it will be even more fruitful." John 15:1-2

Why is it that so many professing Christians make no spiritual progress, and
indeed make no efforts to grow in grace? Why? Because they care nothing about
it! To take up a ’mere profession’ is all they desire; but to proceed from one
degree of piety to another; to grow in grace—is no part of their desire.

What! No solicitude to have more . . .experimental knowledge of truth, faith in
Christ, likeness to God, fitness for heaven!

No desire to advance in such things! Is it possible to be a Christian and yet
destitute of this desire to grow in grace? No, it is not! I tell you, it is not!

If you have no concern to grow in grace—there is no grace in you!

You are a piece of dead wood—and not a living branch!

You are a spiritual corpse—and not a living man!

In this state there can be no growth—for dead things never grow! This heavenly
light of truth

"All Scripture is inspired by God, and is useful for teaching, rebuking,
correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be
thoroughly equipped for every good work." 2 Timothy 3:16-17

The doctrines of Scripture are facts, which involve corresponding emotions and
principles of action, and must, from their very nature, if believed, be
operative upon the heart and the life.

If the doctrines of Scripture . . .exert no godly influence, carry with them no
practical weight, exert no moral power, they are not truly believed.

The doctrines of Scripture are at once . . .the source of consolation, and the
means of sanctification.

The doctrines of Scripture . . .come into the mind as knowledge, produce peace
and love in the heart, and spread the beauties of holiness over the character
and conduct.

The doctrines of Scripture are light; and like the rays of the sun, they sustain
life at the root of the vine, and produce fruit on its branches.

This heavenly light of truth gives . . .spiritual vitality to the soul, and holy
conduct to the life.

"For our gospel came to you not simply with words, but also with power, with the
Holy Spirit and with deep conviction." 1 Thessalonians 1:5

"Sanctify them by the truth; Your Word is truth." John 17:17

I follow like a little blind child

"And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those
who love God and are called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

Strong faith has a firm persuasion of God’s over-ruling Providence—so
comprehensive as to include the destinies of empires and worlds; and so minute
as to extend to individuals. Strong faith believes that God’s Providence is . .
. ever active, ever directing, ever controlling, and ever subordinating all
things to His own purposes and plans.

Strong faith is a conviction of this great truth—so deep, so satisfying, and so
tranquilizing—as not at all to be shaken by the chaotic aspect of human affairs,
or the prevalence of gigantic evils.

A weak faith must give way before . . . the deep mysteries, the confounding
events, the defeats of what is good, and the triumphs of what is evil, which are
perpetually going on in our world’s history.

The stream of Providence is . . . so twisting, so dark, apparently so murky, and
occasionally so devastating; that it requires strong faith believe that it is
the work of God and not of chance; and that if it is the work of God—it must be
just, and wise, and good.

In the darkest dispensations of Providence affecting ourselves, strong faith
realizes that it is all from God; and must therefore be wise, and just, and
good. To be able really say, "It is well. I am sure it is right. I cannot tell
how it is right. I do not understand why this deep afflictive Providence came. I
can find no key to unlock the mystery. But I am as confident that it is right,
as if God’s whole purpose were transparent to my reason, and I could see the
event in all its connections, bearings, and results. I cannot see how or why—but
I believe that mydeep affliction is for God’s glory and my ultimate benefit. I
know that God causes everything to work together for good."

Faith assures us that the darker, the more confounding, the more disappointing
events—are all right and just, and good.

Strong faith walks on amid shadows and darkness, grasping the arm of God,
believing that He is leading us, and will lead us right. Strong faith gives up
all into His hands, saying, "I cannot even see a glimmering of light! I cannot
see where to place my next step! But I can most implicitly trust in the wisdom,
power, and truth of God! I follow like a little blind child, grasping the hand
of his father!"

Times of great troubles and difficulties, are seasons and opportunities for the
exercise of faith. God is always the Christian’s best refuge—and often his only
one! He is sometimes reduced to extremity, and is compelled to say, "He alone is
my rock and my salvation! My help comes onlyfrom the Lord! No one else will help
me—no one else can!"

Sense and reason both fail. No door of escape presents itself—nor any way of
relief. There is nothing left for him to do, but to take up the promise and
carry it in the hand of faith, knock by prayer at the door of mercy, and as he
stands there to say, "Find rest, O my soul, in God alone! My hope comes from
Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation! He is my fortress, I will not be
shaken. Yes, Lord, You have bid me come, when I could go nowhere else. And here
according to your command and promise I will remain—waiting, trembling, yet
believing and hoping. I am sure You will come and help me. My heavenly Father
knows the necessities of His poor helpless child, and He will come in His own
time, and in His own way, and I will wait for him. My bread will be given me,
and my water will be sure."

A cold chill fell upon their hearts!

It has frequently occurred, that young converts in the ardor of their first
love, and while much unacquainted as yet, with what is called the ’religious
world’, have looked upon the church as a ’sacred enclosure’, within which dwelt
a kind of heavenly inhabitants, who could think or speak of little else than the
glory which awaited them. In the church, these novices expected to find . . .the
sweetest and holiest fellowship, an almost unearthly spirituality, and an
uninterrupted strain of pious conversation.

But alas! What a woeful disappointment did the reality produce! In the ’sacred
enclosure’ they found worldly minded professors—almost as intent upon seen and
temporal things, as those they had left out in the world!

In the ’vestibule of heaven’, they beheld professors . . .covered with the
’earthly dust’, disordered with worldly concerns, and given up to worldly
amusements!

In the church members, they saw little but worldly conduct, and heard little
else but worldly conversation!

A cold chill fell upon their hearts, which checked the ardor of their pious
affections; and even they, lately so fervent, soon sunk and settled down into
the lukewarmness of those among whom they had come to dwell.

Vacationing at resorts?

The line of distinction between the world and the church is fast disappearing.

What shall be said of the conduct of some professing Christians vacationing at
resorts? It has become almost one of the necessaries of life to Englishmen, to
pay an annual visit to the coast, or to one of our inland places of resort. To
say that this is wrong to those who can afford to pay for it, is certainly not
my intention. But some professing Christians have ruined themselves, and plunged
their families into poverty and distress, by habits of expense and idleness,
acquired by this annual excursion to the sea. The taste of the age is for
luxurious gratification, and it is certainly one of these luxuries to while away
a week or two amidst the beauties of the coast, or the mirthful throng of a
fashionable lounging place.

I will suppose, however, that the professor can afford the gratification; still,
are not his spendings for this enjoyment, out of all due proportion with his
donations to the cause of Christ? When did he ever give, in one amount, to any
Christian cause, what he gives, in one amount, for his treat to his family to a
resort? No, put together all that he gives to the cause of the Lord for a whole
year, and does it equal what he spends upon one vacation, lavishing hundreds—or
thousands, in riding into the country, or sailing on the sea, and luxuriating in
other ways on the shore.

When a world is perishing, and immortal souls are sinking daily in crowds to
perdition, a Christian should look, with grudging eye, on almost every dollar he
spends in luxury!

Are there no ’perils for piety’ in a vacation resort? Temptations abound
everywhere, entering like a poisoned atmosphere into every place—but surely no
one will deny, that they are found in greater number and force in those places,
which fashion has set apart for relaxation and amusement.

The mixed society to be found in such haunts of pleasure; the amusements which
are resorted to; and the general air of wastefulness which pervades the whole
scene—are all uncongenial with the spirit of piety, which flourishes best in
silence and solitude.

Those who frequent vacation resorts, seem as though the object of their
existence is to spend it in pleasure. Is this proper behavior for the
self-denying, humble followers of a crucified Savior?

It is indeed to be feared that some professing Christians, when they set out on
their summer’s vacation, leave their religion at home, in order that nothing may
interrupt their pursuit and enjoyment of pleasure. Many have gone to places of
fashionable resort to have their piety lastingly injured; and some to lose it
altogether. They started a retrograde course in piety from that day when they
went joyfully and thoughtlessly to the coast in search of recreation. Surely,
surely, then, it cannot be thought unseasonable or unnecessary to raise a
warning voice, and to make it loud and strong when it is becoming increasingly
prevalent among professing Christians to seek in this species of gratification,
a temporary release from the "dull cares of home, and the plodding pursuits of
business."

A chameleon kind of religion

"So that you may be blameless and pure, children of God who are faultless in a
crooked and perverted generation, among whom you shine like stars in the world."
(Php 2:15)

Saving religion is not merely an occasional act—but a permanent habit, resulting
from an internal principle.

Saving religion is a principle so fixed as to constitute a new moral nature; and
so steadily operative, as to form an unchanging character.

A real Christian is a Christian always, everywhere, and in all companies. He
carries his piety with him wherever he goes, as an integral part of himself. It
is not like his clothes which may be continually altered, or varied to suit his
situation, occupation, and company. He needs his piety everywhere, he loves it
everywhere, and is commanded to let it be seen everywhere.

But among most professors of Christianity, there is too much of a chameleon kind
of religion, which takes its hue from surrounding objects. This is seen most
conspicuously in the conduct of those who have a flexible, yielding, easy-going
kind of piety—which accommodates itself to changing circumstances, by little
sacrifices of principle and consistency.

A golden image in the house!

It is quite evident that covetousness is indeed the sin of the church. In this
wealthy age and country, there is imminent peril of professing Christians
forgetting their high calling, and living only to get riches. We see them
toiling and panting in pursuit of the golden object of ambition.

It is not the possession of wealth that we should dread; but the inordinate
desire, the dishonest means, the undue love, and the covetous hoarding of it!
Wealth justly obtained, and piously spent, is a blessing—not a curse.

I am quite aware, that it is difficult to have money and not love it. It is hard
indeed to have a golden image in the house, and not worship it!

Wealth often produces the pride of life—so opposite to the humility and poverty
of spirit, which is essential to the nature of true religion.

Wealth often generates a worldly-mindedness, which makes its possessor contented
with seen and temporal things, and disposes him to mind only earthly things.

Wealth often leads to a prevalent feeling of independence, so unlike that
habitual trust and reliance on God, which the Scriptures require.

Wealth often originates, and keeps up, both the care and perplexity of getting,
and the anxiety of disposing; and thus exhausts the vigor as well as time, upon
worldly objects—leaving the soul neglected, impoverished, and defrauded.

Wealth is the green and flowery mount from which many have slid down into the
bottomless pit!

Yes, wealth has a tendency to do all this, in consequence of the depravity of
our hearts, and thus to cast stumbling blocks in the path of salvation.

"But godliness with contentment is a great gain. For we brought nothing into the
world, and we can take nothing out. But if we have food and clothing, we will be
content with these. But those who want to be rich fall into temptation, a trap,
and many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge people into ruin and
destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and by
craving it, some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with
many pains. Now you, man of God, run from these things; but pursue
righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness." (1 Timothy
6:6-11)

The silent influence in parental conduct

Parents have a great power of influence over the minds and hearts of their
children. Their children are almost continually with them—they are seen by them
in nearly all they do, in their habitual conduct, and character at home. They
are . . . heard in what they say; seen in what they do; studied in all their
behavior; by little ears, and eyes, and minds, which are scarcely ever closed!

The child’s heart is soft and pliable to a father’s or a mother’s influence.
Their constant influence has been molding him from the dawn of reason. What,
then, ought to be the parents’ behavior at home? The whole cultivation, and
direction, and management of a child’s mind, from the very dawn of reason,
should be carried on with special reference to the formation of Christian
character. This should be the one thing, to which all other things should be
subordination.

The silent influence in parental conduct is far greater, either for good or for
evil, than most parents are aware of. They teach by what they say, they
influence by what they do; and also by what they do not say, and do not perform.

The pious parents, who embody a meek, benevolent, ardent, and consistent
godliness in their character, exert a tremendous influence over the minds of
their children!

But oh! the dreadful contrast in the case of those parents who are characterized
by . . .ungodly dispositions, worldly associations, mirthful and extravagant
living, trifling conversation, and lack of all seriousness and spirituality.

Oh! what can be expected from such parents—but children who regard their
religion with disgust?

Every man is best known at home. Parents are ever doing something to prejudice
their children in favor of true religion—or to prejudice them against it; doing
something to draw them into the church—or to drive them into the world; lending
a helping hand to lead then to heaven—or taking them by the hand and leading
them to hell.

Parents! Must you employ your influence in ruining the souls of your
children—and sending them to perdition? Oh! tremble at the interview you must
have with them at the day of judgment, and the dialog you must hold with them
forever in the bottomless pit!! The evidence of genuine piety The evidence of
genuine piety is to be found in . . .real humility, self-distrust, hungering and
thirsting after righteousness, sorrow for sin, and a continual effort to
regulate your thoughts, feelings, and conduct by the Word of God.

Genuine piety will not thrive and increase without effort—but is of so tender
and delicate a nature as to require great, constant, and persevering concern,
watchfulness, and care.

Encroaching, absorbing, and destructive!

"Their minds are fixed on earthly things." Php 3:19

This is a concise, emphatic, and accurate description of a worldly man. His
supreme, yes, exclusive desire, aim, and purpose, is to get as much, and enjoy
as much, of the world as he can. He thinks of nothing else, and wishes for
nothing else. His hopes and fears, joys and sorrows, desires and dread—are all
of the earth, earthly.

The worldly mind has an exclusive regard to, and wish for, earthly possessions
and enjoyment. It makes the world the highest object of pursuit, and the chief
source of enjoyment. This shows itself in various ways, a love of pleasure in
one; avarice in another; ambition in a third; exclusive delight in home in
another.

If a professing Christian partakes of this spirit, he is worldly-minded. If he
appears like one whose supreme aim is to be rich and happy on earth; if he
appears to be continually intent on increasing his wealth and multiplying his
comforts; if he looks like a man who is entirely occupied in enjoying himself
hereon earth—he is a worldly-minded man.

You must resist the encroaching, absorbing, and destructive influence of the
world in all its many fascinating forms!

Consider that you have . . .a soul to be saved, a hell to avoid, a heaven to
obtain!

Eminent piety

Eminence in piety signifies our having all the parts of the Christian character
in considerable strength, and in attractive proportions.

Eminent piety is always accompanied by . . .a large measure of spiritual
affections; a struggle for universal holiness; a desire and endeavor for purity
of heart; a prevailing taste for divine and heavenly things; a walking with God;
a living by faith; a setting our affections on things above; a being dead to the
world; a mortification of sin in the heart; a proneness to devout meditation; a
delight to hold communion with God; a fondness for the Scriptures; a large
portion of love to the brethren; an inflexible integrity; a liberality for the
cause of Christ; an ardent love of biblical ordinances; an enjoyment of the
peace that passes understanding; a frequent experience of spiritual joy; an
exquisite tenderness of conscience; a mind which trembles at sin; a constant
penitential frame for our many imperfections; a holy watchfulness against sins .
. .of the life, of the tongue, of the imagination and of the heart!

Piety is not an abstract system of doctrine and ethics. It is a constant
movement of the heart, to the splendor and attraction of the cross of Christ!

Love to Christ is the spring of all Christian piety!

This is eminent piety—to be always in sight of the cross, having fellowship with
Christ; so that we shall truly comprehend the meaning and feel the force of the
Apostle’s words, "for me to live is Christ!" A showy and expensive style of
living

"Tell those who are rich in this world not to be proud and not to trust in their
money, which will soon be gone. . . . Tell them to use their money to do good.
They should be rich in good works and should give generously to those in need,
always being ready to share with others whatever God has given them." 1 Timothy
6:17-19

It is the incumbent duty of rich Christians, to consecrate a large portion of
their affluence, to upholding the cause of truth. Let them, in order to abound
more and more in such efforts, as well as to exhibit a bright example of pure
and undefiled religion, avoid all unnecessary worldly conformity, and all
expensive modes of living.

There is, in the present age, a disposition, even in professing Christians, to a
showy and expensive style of living, which cannot be more effectually repressed,
than by the plain and simple habits of those who are known to have an easy
access to all the elegancies and splendors of life.

Rich Christians ought to be far more anxious to give—than to hoard their
fortunes. When we enter their mansions and see magnificence in every room,
luxury on every table; when we see their extravagant dress and decor, we cannot
help saying, "How much ought a disciple of Jesus, who lives in this manner, to
give away to the cause of Christ, before he is justified in such an
expenditure!"

In short, the VICES to which rich Christians are more particularly exposed, and
against which they should vigilantly guard, are . . .pride, haughtiness, love of
money, idleness, self-indulgence, luxury, extravagance, worldly conformity.

The VIRTUES to which they are called to exercise are . . .gratitude to God;
humility and meekness to men; frugality and temperance towards themselves;
liberality, together with tender sympathy to their poorer brethren; and a
generous regard to the support of the cause of pure religion and general
benevolence.

Not markedly different

When I look into the New Testament, and read what a Christian should be, and
then look into the church of God, and see what Christians are—I am painfully
affected by observing the dissimilarity!

That worldly spirit to which our age of growing selfishness and luxury gives
rise, is exceedingly adverse to Christianity, whose elements are faith, hope,
love.

The church of Christ at present, is sadly mixed up with both the spirit of the
world, and many of its customs. The great bulk of professing Christians are not
markedly different from the ’followers of pleasure’ and the ’worshipers of
Mammon’.


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  CHAPTER 90: 07.02.     VOLUME 2 CONT'D
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I am in agony in this fire!

The rich man called to him, ’Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to
dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in
this fire!’ But Abraham replied, ’Son, remember that in your lifetime you
received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is
comforted here and you are in agony!’Luke 16:24-25

It is a grievous fact that many an ungodly sinner walks in a flowery path to
perdition—and goes merrily to his eternal ruin. It is, on the contrary, as
certain that many a godly Christian travels by a rough and toilsome road to
heaven—and ascends to glory amid many tears. Our Divine Lord has set forth this
in the most solemn of his parables—the rich man and Lazarus. If we looked only
at the outward and earthly condition of these two men, we would say one is the
type of all that is felicitous; while the other is the type of all that is
miserable.

But who that looks upon their eternal abode, would not a thousand times rather
be Lazarus with his poverty, sores, and beggary, feeding at the rich man’s gate
upon the crumbs which fell from his table—than the wealthy possessor of the
mansion, with his purple and fine linen and daily luxurious living! Look up at
the one who has dropped all his poverty, borne by angels to Abraham’s bosom! And
then look down upon the other, stripped of his splendid garments, deprived of
his luxurious living, and from the midst of his torment begging for a drop of
water to cool his parched tongue—and there see the end and outcome of
’sanctified poverty’ and of ’unsanctified wealth’.

What a heaven!

Heaven will consist of . . .the moral perfection of the soul, perfect knowledge,
perfect holiness, perfect love, perfect likeness to Christ, perfection of the
body in . . .incorruptibility, immortality, glory, and spirituality; the
presence of God in the full manifestation of His glory, the beatific vision of
Christ, the fellowship of angels and all the redeemed, the joint worship of the
heavenly multitudes, the perfect service of Christ, without . . .interruption,
imperfection, or cessation, complete freedom from . . .pain, toil, hunger,
thirst, anxiety, fear, sorrow, and death!

Such is the substance of heavenly felicity. Take any one of them by itself—and
each is a heaven! Add them altogether—and what a heaven!

How pure! How elevated! How felicitous!

Afflictions

Glance at the good which afflictions are calculated to effect, and do effect in
all cases where they are sanctified. As the bee sucks honey from many a bitter
herb—so faith extracts good from bitter sorrows!

How sorrows crucify him to the world—and the world to him; sometimes gently
drawing him away from the world—at others forcing him out as by a violent
wrench!

How trials mortify his pride and cure his vanity!

How afflictions restore him from his backslidings and bring him again to God
from whom he has departed. How they revive his lukewarm religion and quicken him
in prayer. How they make him feel that religion is after all his great concern.

Yes, there is more learned sometimes in one great affliction, than from a
thousand sermons, or a library of books!

He has some secret source of happiness

It is highly incumbent upon Christians, to take care against a worldly spirit.
They are in extreme peril of losing the power of godliness from their hearts,
and joining the number of those, of whom it is said, in the expressive language
of Paul, that "they mind earthly things!"

Such earthlings look upon the possession of wealth as "the one thing needful."
Wealth is their chief object of pursuit, the chief source of happiness. Nothing
modifies or mitigates their desire for riches. They are of the earth, earthly!

Now certainly a Christian is, or ought to be, of another spirit than this! He
should be industrious, frugal, and persevering in his attention to the concerns
of this world. But still there should be in his mind, an ultimate and supreme
regard for the possession of everlasting life. He ought not to be slothful in
business; but then he must be fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. He should be
seen to unite the ’diligent worker’ and ’sincere Christian’—and to be busy for
both worlds.

The men of this world should be constrained to say of him, "This man is as
attentive to business, and as diligent in it as we are; but we can perceive in
all he does, an inflexible regard to morality, and an invariable reference to
piety. We can discover no lack of diligence or prudence; but it is perfectly
evident, that his heart and highest hope are in heaven. He is neither so elated
in prosperity, nor so depressed in adversity, as we are. He has some secret
source of happiness, of which we are not possessed! His eye is upon some driving
force, which we do not recognize."

What a testimony!

Who can obtain a higher one?

Who should seek less? The last pang, and groan, and tear!

The Christian also looks to the end of afflictions! The end may sometimes come
in this world. In reference to this, the utmost that the believer can be sure of
is—that they will end in God’s time. They may last for his whole life. The
sickness which afflicts his body may be unto death! The loss which he has
sustained in his property may be irreparable, and poverty may go down with him
to the grave! The trial which beclouds and distresses his spirits may be his lot
for life! But on the other hand, they may not! God may be bringing him "through
fire and through water to bring him out into a wealthy place." But the Christian
leaves this in the hand of God, and endeavors to maintain a hope which shall
save him from despondency—checked at the same time by a reverence that guards
him from unwarranted presumption.

But if the end of the trial should not come in this world—it will come in the
next world—when they will not only forever cease, but leave an eternal blessing
behind! "I reckon that the sufferings of the present time are not worthy to be
compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us!" "Our light affliction,
which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight
of glory!" Four things are set forth in these passages.

1. Our afflictions will have a termination! This is sweet. They are to end—they
are not to last forever! The last pang, and groan, and tear are at hand—and how
near the Christian never knows!

2. Our afflictions are not to end like those of the brute creation—in the grave
merely—but in heaven! The last pang, and groan, and tear are to usher in that
blessed state of which it is so beautifully said, "The Lamb who is in the midst
of the throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of
waters—and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes!" Heaven shall
terminate the afflictions of the righteous!

3. Heaven is so glorious, that the first view of its scenes, and the first
moment of its enjoyment, shall make amends for the longest life of the most
protracted and intense sufferings!

4. The sufferings of our earthly pilgrimage will enhance and increase the
felicities of heaven! Their submissive endurance; the graces which they call
into exercise; the sanctification which they promote; the heavenly temper which
they cultivate, will be the means of ripening the spirit, and making it fit for
its eternal inheritance!

Every tear that is shed; every groan that is heaved; every loss that is
sustained; every moment of suffering that is endured; every disappointment that
is experienced, which is borne with patience, with resignation, with unwearied
holiness—will not only be followed with millions of ages of ineffable
felicity—but will prepare the soul for its enjoyment, and add something to its
weight and its luster!

If there are but two real Christians in the world

There appears to me to be, at the present moment, a most criminal neglect, on
the part of Christian parents, of the pious education of their children.

That Christian who would carry on a system of pious education with success,
should enforce it with all the commanding influence of a holy example. Let your
children see all the "beauties of holiness" reflected from your character, and
the grand outline of godly virtue filled up with all the delicate touches and
varied coloring of the Christian graces.

Let your children have this conviction in their hearts, "If there are but two
real Christians in the world, my father is one, and my mother is the other."

It is dreadful—but not uncommon for children to employ themselves in contrasting
the appearance which their parents make . . .at the Lord’s table—and at their
own table; in the house of God—and at home!


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  CHAPTER 91: 07.03.     VOLUME 3
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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

Fiendlike, beastlike, manlike, Godlike

"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you,
pray for those who mistreat you." (Luke 6:27-28)

To return evil for good, is fiendlike.

To return evil for evil, is beastlike.

To return good for good, is manlike.

But to return good for evil, is Godlike.

This is true practical Christianity.

"Do not be conquered by evil, but conquer evil with good." (Romans 12:21) The
religion of this poor Hottentot woman

It is the practice of some of the Christian Hottentots, in order to enjoy the
privilege of secret prayer with greater privacy and freedom than they could do
in their own confined and incommodious dwellings—to retire among the trees and
bushes, that they may carry on their devotions without being intruded on by
others, and also derive all that tranquilizing influence which would be produced
by a spot, with which no other occupations, thoughts, and feelings are
associated, than such as are holy. Each individual selects for his own use a
particular bush, behind which, and concealed by it, he may commune with his
heavenly Father in secret. By the others, this bush is considered as sacred to
the one by whom it had been appropriated; and which, therefore, is never to be
violated by the foot, or even by the gaze of another, during the season it is
occupied by its proprietor. The constant tread of the worshipers, in their
repeated visits to these hallowed spots, would, of necessity, wear a path in the
grass which lay between their huts, and the sylvan scene of their communion with
God.

On one occasion, a Christian Hottentot woman said to another member of their
little community, "Sister, I am afraid you are somewhat declining in piety." The
words were accompanied with a look of affection, and were uttered with a tone
that savored nothing of accusation, nor of reproachful severity—but was
expressive of tender concern, and the meekness of wisdom. The individual thus
addressed, asked her friend for the reason of her fears. "Because," replied this
good and gentle spirit, "the grass has grown over your path to your bush."
Nature carrying on its usual progress, had disclosed the secret. The backslider
could not deny the fact. There, in the growing grass, was the indisputable
evidence that the feet which had once trodden it down had ceased to frequent the
spot. She did not attempt to excuse it, but fell under the sweet influence of
this sisterly reproof, and confessed, with ingenuous shame and sorrow, that her
heart had turned away from the Lord. The admonition had its desired effect—the
sinner was converted from the error of her ways, and her watchful and faithful
reprover had the satisfaction and reward of seeing the wanderer restored—not
only to the path to the bush, but to the renewed favor of that God with whom she
there again communed in secret.

Note the value of private prayer, and the connection between its regular and
spiritual performance, and a healthy state of the soul. When the bush was
neglected, and the path to it forsaken—then did the religion of this poor
Hottentot woman begin to spiritually decline. And how could it be otherwise? Who
ever kept up a vigorous piety—when secret prayer was neglected?

It is in the closet of private devotion, that . . .our cares are lightened, our
sorrows mitigated, our corruptions mortified, our graces strengthened, and we
shake off the dust of the earth!

Men may see something of God in me!

"For I have given you an example that you also should do just as I have done for
you." (John 13:15)

It has long been my conviction, that there is a great deficiency in evangelical
churches—of the practical enforcement of Christian duties in detail; especially
of what may be emphatically called the Christian virtues—the passive graces of
the Christian character, the exercise of brotherly kindness and love.

It is not so acceptable to have all the special and difficult duties of the
Christian’s life, or man’s conduct to his fellows, set clearly before the
understanding and enforced upon the conscience. Men do not like to be followed
through all the labyrinths of the heart’s deceitfulness, beaten out of every
refuge of lies, and made to feel the obligation to love where they are inclined
to hate; and to forgive where they desire to revenge.

And we ministers pander too much to this taste. The pulpit has not done its
duty. We have preached to the intellect, to the imagination, and to the
taste—but not enough to the heart and to the conscience. In our endeavor to
please, we have not been sufficiently intent upon the greater object—to profit.
We have not preached justification too much—but sanctification too little. We
have urged faith—but not love. We have descanted upon the evil of
licentiousness, and falsehood, and dishonesty, and covetousness—but have said
far, far too little about malice and bitterness. We have urged men to zeal and
liberality—but not enough to humility, forbearance, and forgiveness. We have
rightly led men to view the cross of Christ—but we have not sufficiently urged
them to take up their own cross. We have properly entreated them to view Jesus
as their Righteousness—but not sufficiently as their Example.

O, Christians . . . study that wondrous character, contemplate that illustrious
pattern, dwell upon that beautiful model, until the frosty incrustations of your
cold, hard heart have all melted, like icicles before the sun!

How wonderful and how ennobling is the conception, and what an ambition should
it raise in the mind of the Christian, to consider and say, "Men may see
something of God in me!" Yes, we can teach them what God is, as to His moral
character, and let them see in ’our merciful disposition’ a ray of the infinite
sun of His own glory. These sweet relentings of our nature, these soft and
genial currents of our soul, these effusions of love—these, we can remind them,
are but the overflowings of His goodness, His own love, into our hearts, and the
reflection of His infinite mercy to us.

"The one who says he abides in Him should walk just as He walked." (1 John 2:6)

"Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow
in His steps." (1 Peter 2:21)

Casting all our sins into oblivion!

"Who is a God like You, removing iniquity and passing over rebellion for the
remnant of His inheritance? He does not hold on to His anger forever, because He
delights in faithful love. He will again have compassion on us; He will vanquish
our iniquities. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea." (Micah
7:18-19)

Wonderful language! This is one of the finest images to represent the
completeness of God’s pardoning mercy to be found in all the Bible. He casts our
sins not into a brook nor a river where they might be found again; no, nor into
the sea near the shore where the tide might wash them up again—but like a stone
cast into the depths of the sea, where they can never be fished up again, but
lie forever buried and forgotten at the bottom of the ocean! This is divine
forgiveness—casting all our sins into oblivion!

Infected and enfeebled

The church is infected and enfeebled with worldliness.

"Who gave Himself for our sins, that He might deliver us from this present evil
world." Galatians 1:4

"And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will
of God abides forever. 1 John 2:17 Do you indeed ACT as you pray?

I need not prove to you that prayer, as a duty, is essential to Christian
conduct; and, as a privilege, is equally indispensable to Christian enjoyment.
All Christians give themselves to this devout exercise. Their petitions are
copious, comprehensive, and seemingly earnest.

What solemn professions they make to God!

What ardent desires they express!

What numerous blessings they seek!

What strong resolutions they form!

If we so pray—how ought we to live? What kind of people must we be—to live up to
the standard of our prayers? And ought we not, in some measure at least, to
reach this standard? Should there not be a harmony, a consistency, a
proportion—between our practice and our prayers?

Do you indeed ACT as you pray? Do you understand the import, and feel the
obligation of your own petitions? Do you rise from your knees where you have
asked and knocked—to seek? Do you really want, wish for, and endeavor to obtain
an answer to your prayers? Are you really intent upon doing, and being—what you
ask for in prayer?

Our prayers are to act upon ourselves; they have, or ought to have, great power
in the formation of character and the regulation of conduct.

It is plain, therefore, that much of prayer is mere words. We either do not
understand, or do not consider, or do not mean—what we say.

Do we go from praying—to acting, and to live for salvation, for heaven, for
eternity?

How common is it for professors to pray for victory over the world; to be
delivered from the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of
life; to be enabled to set their affections on things above, and not on things
of the earth; and to be dead to seen and temporal things. And yet all the while
they are as obviously eager to amass wealth, to multiply the attractions of
earth, and to enjoy as much luxurious gratification as possible!

’Spirituality of mind’ is the subject of innumerable prayers from some who never
take a step to promote it! But, on the contrary, who are doing all they can to
make themselves carnally minded! How many repeat that petition, "Lead us not
into temptation," who, instead of most carefully keeping at the utmost possible
distance from all inducements to sin, place themselves in the very path of sin!

How often do we pray to have the mind of Christ, and to imitate the example of
Jesus. But where is the assiduous endeavor, the laboring effort, to copy this
high model, in . . .its self-denying condescension, its profound humility, its
beautiful meekness, its indifference to worldly comforts, its forgiving mercy,
its devotedness to God?

How often do we pray to be delivered from evil tempers and irascible feelings.
And yet we indulge them on every slight provocation, and take no pains to subdue
them!

It is unnecessary to multiply the illustrations of the inconsistency between our
prayers and our practice. So hideous and so dreadful is the offspring!

How dreadful is the nature of sin! Sin is the parent of death. Death the
first-born of sin. What must be the parent—when so hideous and so dreadful is
the offspring! Who can have watched the harbingers of death—the groans, the
pains, the dying strife—without being struck with the fearful nature of man’s
revolt from God?

Death in itself, and by itself—is horrid and revolting! To see all this
inflicted upon a Christian, a child of God, an heir of glory; to see no way even
to the kingdom of God, to the realms of immortality—but this dark valley of
corruption, earth, and worms—this gives us a most impressive idea of the
dreadful nature of sin! How such scenes should enlarge our views of the
malignity of sin, and embitter our hearts against it!

O sin, sin—what have you done!

Like water to the flame of joy

"I have spoken these things to you, so that My joy may be in you, and your joy
may be full." John 15:11

One of the reasons why so little spiritual joy is experienced by the majority of
Christian professors, is because of SIN. Sin weakens spiritual joy—and ought to
do so! I do not now mean immorality—for that extinguishes joy! I mean . . .the
lesser workings of our corruption, the sins of the heart, the sins of the
tongue, the sins of the character, sins known only to God and conscience, sins
of omission, sins of defect. I mean sins that do not unchristianize us, any more
than they excommunicate us from the church. Such sins unopposed, unmortified—do,
and must, prevent or diminish our joy. They may not put out the light of our
piety altogether—but they surround it with an impure atmosphere, a thick
fog—which prevents its light from shining upon the heart!

The religion of many is altogether too feeble. They are too worldly, too
lukewarm, live too far from God—to derive much joy and peace from their piety.
Spiritual joy, is joy—in God, in Christ, in holiness, in heaven! And when,
therefore, the professor lives so little in the closet, communes so little with
his Bible, and lives so far from God—it can be no wonder that his religion does
not make him happy!

My dear friends, let me now entreat you to avoid these hindrances, and to seek
after more of that heavenly, holy, happy frame of mind. Pray for it, for it is a
fruit of the Spirit. Be much in converse with your Bibles, for it comes in the
way of understanding, believing, and experiencing the truth. Find time for
private, silent meditation, for the truth will not be seen, so as to affect the
heart, by a hasty glance at Scripture. Seek to have your faith strengthened, for
your joy must ever be in proportion to your faith.

Watch against sin, for sin is like water to the flame of joy. Cultivate all the
branches of holiness; for holiness is happiness. You must have eminent piety, if
you would have spiritual joy. Spiritual joy is the oil to the wheels of
obedience. It is this which braces up the soul for action, and carries it
forward through difficult and self-denying duties.

How can we best vanquish the world, that ever present, and every where present
foe, which comes in so many forms—and with such golden pleas? How, but by a
heart already well pleased with its own happiness in Christ. Spiritual joy is
the world’s vanquisher! The heart by holy joy rises above the world—sees it
below, covered with smoke and dust, and finds itself in a brighter, purer,
happier region, with the cloudless sun above, and all around filled with glory.
What has the world to offer comparable to that which a rejoicing faith has found
in Christ? What has ’worldly ambition’ to offer, which can vie with this? He may
spurn the favor of the crowned prince, and put his crown aside as a bauble—who
is rejoicing in hope of an incorruptible crown of life and glory!

"The joy of the Lord is your strength!" Nehemiah 8:10

Though we mourn—we must not murmur

"Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will leave this life. The Lord
gives, and the Lord takes away. Praise the name of the Lord! (Job 1:21)

"See, I am the only God! There are no others. I kill, and I make alive! I wound,
and I heal, and no one can rescue you from My power!" Deuteronomy 32:39

When a holy and beloved object of our affection is removed by death, we ought to
sorrow. Humanity demands it; and Christianity, in the person of the weeping
Jesus, allows it. The man without a tear, is a savage or a Stoic—but not a
Christian. God intends when He bestows His gifts—that they should be received
with smiles of gratitude; and when He recalls them—that they should be
surrendered with "drops of sacred grief." Sorrow is an affection implanted by
the Creator in the soul, for wise and beneficent purposes; and it ought not to
be ruthlessly torn up by the roots—but directed in its exercise by reason and
piety.

The work of grace, though it is above nature—is not against it. The man who
tells me not to weep at the grave—insults me, mocks me, and wishes to degrade
me! Tears are the silent, pure, sincere testimony of my heart to the excellence
of the gift He gave in mercy; and in mercy, no doubt, as well as judgment, He
has recalled.

But, then, though we mourn—we must not murmur. We may sorrow—but not with the
violent and uncontrolled grief of the heathen, who have no hope.

Our sorrow must flow, deep as we like, but noiseless and still—in the channels
of submission. It must be a sorrow so quiet, as to hear all the words of
consolation which our heavenly Father utters amidst the gentle strokes of His
rod. It must be a sorrow so reverential, as to adore Him for the exercise of His
prerogative in taking away what and whom He pleases. It must be a sorrow so
composed, as to prepare us for doing His will as well as bearing it. It must be
a sorrow so meek and gentle, as to justify Him in His dispensations. It must be
a sorrow so confiding, as to be assured that there is as much love in taking the
mercy away—as there was in bestowing it. It must be a sorrow so grateful, as to
be thankful for the mercies left—as well as afflicted for the mercies lost. It
must be a sorrow so trustful, as to look forward to the future with hope. It
must be a sorrow so patient, as to bear all the aggravations that accompany or
follow the bereavement with unruffled acquiescence. It must be a sorrow so holy,
as to lift the prayer of faith for Divine grace, to sanctify the stroke. It must
be a sorrow so lasting, as to preserve through all the coming years of life, the
benefit of that event, which in one solemn moment changed the whole aspect of
our earthly existence.

These are the idols of the heart!

The first commandment of the decalogue says, "You shall have no other gods
before Me." The meaning of this precept, which is the foundation of all
religion, is not merely that we shall not acknowledge any other God besides
Jehovah—but also that we shall treat Him as God! That is, we . . .must love Him
with all our hearts, serve Him with all our lives, and depend upon Him for our
supreme felicity.

It is obvious that whatever we love most, and are most anxious to retain and
please—whatever it is we depend most upon for happiness and help—whatever has
most of our hearts—that is, in effect, is our God! It does not matter whether it
is friends, possessions, desires—or our own selves!

These are the idols of the heart!

SELF is the great idol which is the rival of God, and which divides with Him the
worship of the human race. It is surprising and affecting to think how much SELF
enters into almost all we do. Besides the grosser form of self-righteousness,
which leads many unconverted people actually to depend upon their own doings for
acceptance with God; how much of . . .self-seeking, self-valuing,
self-admiration, self-dependence,there is in many converted ones! How covertly
do some seek their own praise in what they professedly do for God, and their
fellow-creatures! How eager are they for the admiration and applauseof their
fellow-creatures! How much of self, yet how little suspected by themselves—is
seen by One who knows them better than they know themselves, at the bottom of
their most splendid services, donations, and most costly sacrifices!

In how many ways does self steal away the heart from God! How subtle are its
workings, how concealed its movements, yet how extensive is its influence. How
SELF . . .perverts our motives, lowers our aims, corrupts our affections, and
taints our best actions!

How much incense is burned—and how many sacrifices are offered on the altar of
this idol!

"Little children, keep yourselves from idols!" 1 John 5:21

The prevailing sin of Christians

Increasing deadness to the world, and growing spirituality of mind, are sure
results of ’sanctified affliction’.

The love of the world is the great snare of the church in every age!
Worldly-mindedness is now the prevailing sin of Christians. We see them on all
hands too eager to make themselves happy on earth, and seeking their enjoyments,
if not in the sinful amusements of the world—yet in its ’innocent and home-bred
comforts’. They look not at unseen and eternal things, but at seen and temporal
things. Theirs is too much a life of ’sense’, refined it is true from its gross
sinfulness—but still a life of sense, rather than a life of faith.

Hence there is "a needs be" for severe trials, if not to separate them and keep
them separate from open and gross sins—yet to lift up their affections to things
above, and to lead them toseek their happiness . . .from God, the fountain of
life; from Christ, the Redeemer of their souls; and from heaven, the object of
their expectations.

When the world has been crucified to us, and we have been crucified to the
world; when we have been taught its vanity and emptiness as a satisfying portion
for the soul; when we have lost much of our anxiety to obtain its possessions,
and of our dread of losing them; when we have turned from the folly of hewing
out broken cisterns which can hold no water, and led more to the fountain of
living waters; when we have lost our dependence on our comforts and possessions
for happiness, and feel and rejoice in a glorious independence from ’created
good’ for bliss—when there is really and truly a conscious elevation of soul
towards God and divine things—there is the evidence that we are sanctified by
our trials.

"Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep Your word. It is good for
me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes. I know, O Lord, that
Your judgments are righteous, and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me."
(Psalms 119:67, Psalms 119:71, Psalms 119:75) The most subtle, stubborn, and
tenacious foe

"Don’t you know that your body is a sanctuary of the Holy Spirit who is in you,
whom you have from God? You are not your own, for you were bought at a price;
therefore glorify God in your body." 1 Corinthians 6:19-20

Recollect that the renunciation of SELF, as well as of SIN, was one of the
solemn transactions of that scene, and that time—when you bowed by faith at the
foot of the cross, received mercy through Jesus Christ, and yielded yourselves
to God. You then abjured, not only self-righteousness, but self-seeking,
self-pleasing, and self-living. Self, as a supreme object, was renounced.

Self, until then, had been your loftiest aim; self-love your highest
affection—but then you transferred your aim and your affection to another
object. The Christian has no right to ask what he will do with himself; or to
what he will give himself; or how he will employ himself. He is no longer at
liberty to inquire how he shall spend his energies, his time, his properly, his
labor, and his influence; for he is not his own—he is bought with a price.

He is not to live for fame—and please himself with the applause of his fellow
creatures.

Nor is he to live for riches—and please himself with increasing wealth.

Nor is he to live for health—and please himself with the glowing energies of a
sound body.

Nor is he to live for taste—and please himself with the pursuit of literature,
science, or the arts.

Nor is he to live for social enjoyment—and please himself with an agreeable
circle of friends.

Nor is he to live for ease—and please himself with unmolested quiet.

In short, he is not to consider himself as his own master—to please himself
supremely in any way; nor his own property—to employ himself on his own account,
and for his own benefit. He is not to imagine that personal gratification is to
be his end and aim—for the accomplishment of which he may lay down his own
schemes, select his own course, and pursue his own methods—as if he had an
independent and sovereign right over himself. Self is . . ."the old man" to be
crucified with Christ; the body of sin to be destroyed; the corrupt nature to be
put away; the law in our members to be resisted; the lusts of the mind to be
subdued.

Self is the enemy of God—to be fought against; the rival interest with Christ in
our soul—to be subdued; the means by which the devil would hold us in alienation
from holiness—to be opposed.

Self is the most subtle, the most stubborn, the most tenacious foe with which
grace has to contend, in the soul of the believer. SELF lives, and works, and
fights—when many other corruptions are mortified. Self is the last
stronghold—the very citadel of Satan in the heart—which is reduced to the
obedience of faith.

Why do believers murmur at the painful dispensations of Providence, and find
submission so hard an achievement? Because self is disturbed in its enjoyment!

Why are they so easily offended, and experience such difficulty in showing
forgiveness? Because self-esteem has been wounded!

Why are they covetous? Because self is gratified by its increasing stores.

What is vanity—but the indulgence of self-love?

What is ambition—but the exultation of self?

What is pride—but the worship of self?

Why are they so reluctant to give their time and labor for the good of others,
and the glory of God? Because they want it for ease, and the enjoyment of self!

Why are they peevish, quarrelsome, and discontented with the little annoyances
of life, which are everywhere and continually occurring? Because they want to
settle down in unmolested ease, and undisturbed quiet, to enjoy themselves!

But is this right? Is not this living as if we were our own? Is not this living
for ourselves? Is not this forgetting that we are purchased property, belonging
to another?

My dear friends, do consider this subject. Weigh well the import of the
condition of Christian discipleship, as laid down by our Lord: "If any man will
come after Me, LET HIM DENY HIMSELF." Self-denial, not self-pleasing, is your
business! And the evidence of our being disciples is in exact proportion to our
disposition thus to take up our cross.

If we are coveting ease, quiet, soft indulgence, luxurious gratification—and are
dissatisfied, and discontented, and contentious, and peevish, because we cannot
please ourselves, nor get others to please us, as the supreme end of life—how
can we dream that we are the disciples of Him, of whom it is declared, "He
pleased not Himself," especially since it is said, "Let the same mind be in you
which was in Christ Jesus?"

For whom then are we to live, and whom are we to please, if not ourselves? Who
is to come in the place of self? GOD! And for this obvious reason—we are God’s!
God’s servants! God’s property!

All others are walking to perdition!

"Enoch walked with God." (Genesis 5:24)

Walking with God! Is this our religion? Does this aptly set forth our life? It
makes no difference . . .to which church we belong, nor what creed we adopt, nor
what ceremonies we profess, nor what zeal for religious things we have—if we are
not walking with God!

Reconciliation with Him through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ; a habitual
acting as in His sight and with a view to His approbation, and a life of
devotional communion with Him—is true religion—in whomever or wherever found.

Walking with God! Is this religion ours?

Do we intelligently, experimentally, know the meaning of that phrase—walking
with God? Let us set it down before us, look at it, ponder it, and never cease
to study it, until we know its meaning, and feel its force!

None are walking to heaven, but those who are walking with God! All others are
walking to perdition! We hear a great deal about other things that are connected
with religion—its doctrines, its forms, its creeds—but walking with God is true
religion. If we know nothing of this, we know nothing of true piety!

It is walking with God—and not any external matter, that distinguishes the real
from the nominal Christian!

And it is ’close walking with God’ which distinguishes the earnest Christian
from the comparatively lukewarm one. The earnest Christian walks closely with
God, presses, so to speak, to his very side; while the other, like Peter, during
his season of cowardice, follows afar off.

"Walk humbly with your God." (Micah 6:8)

Over-indulgence of fond and foolish parents!

"I am going to carry out all my threats against Eli and his family. I have
warned him continually that judgment is coming for his family, because his sons
are blaspheming God and he hasn’t disciplined them." 1 Samuel 3:12-13

There is, in some households, no family government, no order, no subordination,
no discipline. The children are kept under no restraint, but are allowed to do
what they like. Their faults are intentionally unnoticed and unpunished, and
their corruptions allowed to grow wild and headstrong; until, in fact, the whole
family becomes utterly lawless, rebellious against parental authority—and
grievous to all around them!

How many have had to curse the over-indulgence of fond and foolish parents! How
many, as they have ruminated amid the desolations of poverty, or the walls of a
prison, have exclaimed, "O, my cruelly fond parents, had you exercised that
authority with which God entrusted you, over your children, and had you checked
my childish corruptions, and punished my boyish disobedience; had you subjected
me to the beneficial restraint of wholesome discipline, I would not have brought
you with a broken heart to your grave, nor myself with a ruined life to the
jail!"

Overindulgence of children is awfully common, and continually making shocking
ravages in human character. It is a system of great cruelty to the children, to
the parents themselves, and to society. This practice proceeds from various
causes; in some instances, from a perverted and intentional sentimentalism; in
others, from absolute indolence, and a regard to present ease, which leads the
silly mother to adopt any means of coaxing, and yielding, and bribing—to keep
the "young rebels" quiet for the time!

It is not uncommon for parents to treat the first acts of infantile rebellion,
rather as accidents to be smiled at, than as sins to be disciplined. "O," says
the mother, "it is only play, he will know better soon. He does not mean any
harm. I cannot discipline him."

Lack of parental discipline, from whatever cause it proceeds, it is in the
highest degree injurious to the character of the children!

For wives only!

"Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord." Ephesians 5:22

In every society, there must be authority vested somewhere, and some ultimate
authority, some last and highest tribunal established, from the decision of
which there lies no appeal. In the family constitution this authority rests in
the husband—he is the head, the law-giver, the ruler. In all matters concerning
the ’little world in the house’, he is to direct, not indeed without taking
counsel with his wife. But in all differences of view, he is to decide—unless he
chooses to waive his right; and to his decision the wife should yield, and yield
with grace and cheerfulness.

Usurpation of authority is always hateful, and it is one of the most offensive
exhibitions of it, where the husband is degraded into a slave of the queen
mother.

I admit it is difficult for a sensible woman to submit to imbecility, but she
should have considered this before she united herself to it. Having committed
one error, let her not fall into a second, but give the strongest proof of her
good sense which circumstances will allow her to offer, by making that
concession to the God-given authority of her husband. She may reason, she may
persuade, she may solicit—but if ignorance cannot be convinced, nor obstinacy
turned, nor kindness conciliated, she has no resource left but to submit.

"Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord." Ephesians 5:22

For husbands only!

"And you husbands must love your wives with the same love Christ showed the
church. He gave up His life for her to make her holy." Ephesians 5:25-26

Christ’s love is SINCERE. He did not love in word only, but in deed, and in
truth. In Him there was no deceitfulness; no epithets of endearment going forth
out of untruthful lips; no actions varnished over with a mere covering of love.
We must be like Him, and endeavor to maintain a principle of true love in the
heart, as well as a manifestation of it in the conduct.

It is a miserable thing to have to act the part of love, without feeling it.
Hypocrisy is base in everything; but next to religion, is most base in
affection. Besides, how difficult is it to act the part well, to keep on the
mask, and to pretend the character so as to escape detection! Oh, the misery of
that woman’s heart, who at length finds out to her cost, that what she had been
accustomed to receive and value as the attentions of a lover—are but the tricks
of a cunning deceiver!

The love of the Redeemer is ARDENT. Let us, if we would form a correct idea of
what should be the state of our hearts towards the woman of our choice, think of
that affection which glowed in the bosom of a Savior, when He lived and died for
His people. We can possess, it is true, neither the same kind, nor the same
degree of love—but surely when we are referred to such an instance, if not
altogether as a model, yet as a motive, it does teach us, that no weak affection
is due, or should be offered to the wife of our bosom. We are told by the Savior
Himself, that if He laid down his life for us, it is our duty to lay down ours
for the brethren; how much more for the "friend that sticks closer than a
brother." And if it be our duty to lay down our life, how much more to employ it
while it lasts, in all the offices of an affection—strong, steady, and
inventive!

She who for our sake has forsaken the comfortable home, and the watchful care,
and the warm embrace of her parents—has a right to expect in our love, that
which shall make her "forget her father’s house," and cause her to feel that
with respect to happiness, she is no loser by the exchange. Happy the woman, and
such should every husband strive to make his wife, who can look back without a
sigh upon the moment, when she left forever, the guardians, the companions, and
the scenes of her childhood.

The love of Christ to His church is SUPREME. He gives to the world His
benevolence—but to the church His love! "The Lord your God in the midst of you,"
said the prophet, "is mighty; He will save you, He will rejoice over you with
joy; He will rest in His love—He will rejoice over you with singing."

So must the husband love his wife, above all else—he must "rest in his love." He
should love her not only above all outside his house—but above all within it.
She must take precedence both in his heart and conduct, not only of all
strangers, but of all relatives, and also of all his children. He ought to love
his children for her sake, rather than her for their sake.

Is this always the case? On the contrary have we not often seen men, who appear
to be far more interested in their children than in their wives; and who have
paid far less attention to the latter than to grown-up daughters? How especially
unseemly is it, for a man to be seen fonder of the society of any other woman,
than that of his wife, even where nothing more may be intended than the pleasure
of her company. Nor ought he to forsake her, in his leisure hours, for any
companions of his own sex, however pleasant might be their demeanor or their
conversation.

The love of Christ is UNIFORM. Like Himself, it is the same yesterday, today,
and forever. Marital affection should have the same character; it should be at
all times, and in all places alike; the same at home as abroad; in other peoples
houses as in our own. Has not many a wife to sigh and exclaim—"Oh! that I were
treated in my own house, with the same tenderness and attention as I receive in
company!" With what almost loathing and disgust must such a woman turn from
endearments, which under such circumstances she can consider as nothing but
hypocrisy! Home is the chief place for fond and minute attention; and she who
has not to complain of a lack of it there, will seldom feel the need or the
inclination to complain of a lack of it abroad—except it be those silly women,
who would degrade their husbands, by exacting not merely what is really kind,
but what is actually ridiculous.

The love Jesus is PRACTICAL and LABORIOUS. He provided everything for the
welfare and comfort of the church, and at a cost and by exertions of which we
can form no idea.

The business of providing for the family belongs chiefly to the husband. It is
yours my brethren to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of
carefulness, and to drink if necessary, the waters of affliction, that you may
earn by the sweat of your brow, a comfortable support for the family circle.
This is probably what the apostle meant, when he enjoined us to give honor to
the wife as to the weaker vessel—the honor of providing for her, which she in
consequence of the weakness of her frame, and the frequent infirmities which the
maternal relation brings upon her, is not so well able to procure for herself.
In most barbarous countries, and in some half-civilized ones, the burden of
manual labor falls upon the woman, while her tyrant husband lives in indolence,
feeding upon the industry of the hapless being whom he calls a wife—but treats
as a slave! And are there no such idle tyrants in our age and country, who so as
they can live in indolence, and gratify their appetites, care not how they
oppress their wives—wretches who do little or nothing for the support of the
family? How utterly lost to every noble and generous sentiment must that man be,
whose heart cannot be moved by the entreaties or tears of his own wife, and who
can hear in vain her pleadings for his child at her bosom, and his child by her
side, and who by such appeals cannot be induced to give up his daily visits to
the tavern, or his habits of sauntering idleness, to attend to his neglected
business, and hold off the approaching tide of poverty and ruin.

Such a creature is worse than a brute—he is a monster! And it seems a pity that
there is no law and no prison-ship to take him away to a land where, if he will
not work, so neither could he eat!

A practical affection to a wife extends to everything! It should manifest itself
in the most delicate attention to her comfort, and her feelings; in consulting
her tastes; in concealing her failings; in never doing anything to degrade her,
but everything to exalt her before her children and others; in acknowledging her
excellencies, and commending her efforts to please him; in meeting, and even in
anticipating all her reasonable requests; in short, in doing all that ingenuity
can invent for her substantial happiness and general comfort.

Christ’s love to His church is DURABLE and UNCHANGEABLE. "Having loved His own,
He loved them to the end"—without abatement or alteration. So ought men to love
their wives, not only at the beginning; but to the end of their union; when the
charms of beauty have fled before the withering influence of disease; when the
vigorous and sprightly frame has lost its elasticity, and the step has become
slow and faltering—when the wrinkles of old age have followed the bloom of
youth, and the whole person seems rather the monument, than the resemblance of
what it once was. Has she not gained in mind, what she has lost in exterior
fascinations? Have not her mental graces flourished amid the ruins of personal
charms? If the ’rose’ and the ’lily’ have faded on the cheek—have not the
’fruits of righteousness’ grown in the soul? If those blossoms have departed, on
which the eye of youthful passion gazed with so much ardor, has it not been to
give way to the ripe fruit of Christian excellence? The woman is not what she
once was—but the wife, the mother, the Christian—are better than they were!

For an example of marital love in all its power and excellence, point me not to
the bride and bridegroom displaying during the first month of their union, all
the watchfulness and tenderness of affection—but let me look upon the husband
and wife of fifty, whose love has been tried by the lapse and the changes of a
quarter of a century, and who through this period and by these vicissitudes,
have grown in attachment and esteem; and whose affection, if not glowing with
all the fervid heat of a midsummer’s day, is still like the sunshine of an
October noon—warm and beautiful, as reflected amid autumnal tints!

"So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies—he who loves his wife
loves himself." A man’s children are parts of himself; his wife is himself—"for
the two shall be one flesh." This is his duty and the measure of it too; which
is so plain, that, if he understands how he treats himself, there needs nothing
be added concerning his demeanor towards her. For what tender care does he take
of his body, and uses it with a delicate tenderness, and cares for it in all
contingencies, and watches to keep it from all evils, and studies to make for it
fair provisions. So let a man love his wife as his own body.

Husbands! It is in your power to do more for your wife’s happiness, or misery,
than any other being in the universe! An unkind husband is a tormentor of the
first class. His victim can never elude his grasp, nor go beyond the reach of
his cruelty, until she is kindly released by the ’king of terrors’, who, in this
instance, becomes to her an angel of light, and conducts her to the grave as to
a shelter from her oppressor!

For such a woman there is no rest on earth—the destroyer of her peace has her
always in his power, for she is always in his presence, or in the fear of it.
The circumstances of every place, and every day, furnish him with the occasions
of cruel neglect or unkindness, and it might be fairly questioned, whether there
is to be found on earth a case of greater misery, than a woman whose heart daily
withers under the cold looks, the chilling words, and repulsive actions of a
husband who loves her not. Such a man is a murderer, though in this world he
escapes the murderer’s doom; and by a refinement of cruelty, he employs years in
conducting his victim to her end, by the slow process of a lingering death.

A ball, a concert, a festivity, a party!

Some of you are bent upon present worldly enjoyment. The apostle has described
your taste and your pursuits where he says, "Lovers of pleasure more than lovers
of God." Ponder that description. Does it not startle and horrify you? Lovers of
parties, of the dance and the song, of the gay scene and frivolous chat—more
than God!

Just look at this thought in all its naked deformity. A ball, a concert, a
festivity, a party—loved more than God! Not to love God at all for higher
objects than these—for science, literature, fame, rank, wealth—is a dreadful
state of mind! But to neglect and despise God for scenes of frivolity, mirth,
and pleasure—is it not shocking?

Did you ever yet seriously reflect thus—"What a dreadful heart I must have—which
can love pleasure, but cannot love God!"

Consider what this desire for pleasure will do for you . . .in the hour of
sickness, in the scenes of poverty, in the season of calamity, in the agonies of
death, in the bottomless pit?

Woman’s mission

The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper
suitable for him." Genesis 2:18

Woman’s mission is to be the suitable help-mate of that man, to whom she has
given herself as the companion of his pilgrimage upon earth.

She is, in wedded life, to be his constant companion, in whose companionship he
is to find one, who meets him hand to hand, eye to eye, lip to lip, and heart to
heart—to whom he can unburden the secrets of a heart pressed down with care, or
wrung with anguish; whose presence shall be to him above all other friendship;
whose voice shall be his sweetest music; whose smiles his brightest sunshine;
from whom he shall go forth with regret; and to whose company he shall return
with willing feet, when the toils of the day are over; who shall walk near his
loving heart, and feel the throbbing of affection as her arm leans on his, and
presses on his side.

In his hours of private companionship, he shall tell her all the secrets of his
heart; find in her all the capabilities, and all the promptings, of the most
tender and endeared fellowship; and in her gentle smiles, and unrestrained
speech, enjoy all to be expected in one who was given by God to be his companion
and friend.

That companionship which woman was designed to afford to man, must of course be
included the sympathetic offices of the comforter. It is hers, in their hours of
retirement, to console and cheer him; when he is injured or insulted, to heal
the wounds of his troubled spirit; when burdened by care, to lighten his load by
sharing it; when groaning with anguish, to calm by her peace-speaking words the
tumult of his heart; and act, in all his sorrows, the part of a ministering
angel.

The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper
suitable for him." Genesis 2:18

Dreadful and murderous cruelty!

What genuine believer can for a moment question whether his children’s eternal
salvation ought to be the supreme solicitude of his heart?

If we look to the great bulk of mankind it is perfectly evident that true
religion hardly enters into their view. They are very willing that their
children should go to church; but as to any concern for the religious character,
and the formation of pious habits—they are as destitute of everything of this
kind, as if religion were a mere fable, or were nothing more than a mere form.
Their chief object is either elegant and fashionable accomplishments, or
learning and science—and provided their children excel in these, they never make
any enquiry or feel any concern whether they fear God. They would be not only
surprised, but would either laugh you to scorn, or scowl upon you with
indignation, for proposing such fanatical questions in reference to their
children! Yes, this is the way of the greater part of parents, even in this
religious country. To train them up to shine and make a figure in society, is
all they seek.

Amazing folly!

Dreadful and murderous cruelty!

Degrading and groveling ambition!

To lose sight of the soul, and neglect salvation, and forget immortality! To
train them in every kind of knowledge but the knowledge of religion! To instruct
them in an acquaintance with every kind of subject, but to leave them in
ignorance of God their Creator, their Preserver and Benefactor! To fit them to
act their part well on earth, and to leave them unprepared for heaven! To
qualify them to go with advantage through the scenes of time, and then to leave
them unfit for the glorious and enduring scenes of eternity!

O strange fondness of irreligious parents!

O miserable destiny of their hapless offspring!

In direct opposition to this, the chief end of every Christian parent must be
the spiritual interests, the religious character, the eternal salvation of his
children. His highest ambition, his most earnest prayer, his most vigorous
pursuit, his eye, his heart, and his hope should be engaged for their eternal
welfare!

This should be the nature and exercise of his concern—"I am desirous, if it
pleases God, that my children should be blessed with the enjoyment of reason, of
health, of such a moderate portion of worldly wealth, and worldly respectability
as is compatible with their station in life; and with a view to this I will give
them all the advantages of a suitable education. But above and beyond this, I
far more intensely desire, and far more earnestly pray, and far more anxiously
seek, that they may have the fear of God in their hearts, may be made partakers
of true religion, and be everlastingly saved. And provided God grants me the
latter, by bestowing upon them His grace, I shall feel that my chief object is
accomplished, and be quite reconciled to any circumstances which may otherwise
befall them. For rather would I see them in the humble valley of poverty, if at
the same time they were true Christians—than on the very pinnacle of worldly
grandeur, but destitute of true piety."

Such should be the views and feelings and desires of all true Christian parents.
Religion should be at the very center of all their schemes and pursuits for
their offspring. This should be the guiding principle, the directing object, the
great landmark by which all their course should be steered.

The rib

"Then the Lord God made a woman from the rib He had taken from the man, and
brought her to Adam." Genesis 2:22

Woman was the finishing grace of the creation.

Woman was the completeness of man’s bliss in Paradise.

Woman is the mother of the human race.

Woman was the cause of sin and death to our world.

The world was redeemed by the seed of the woman.

Woman is our companion, counselor, and comforter in the pilgrimage of life—or
our tempter, scourge, and destroyer.

Our sweetest cup of earthly happiness—or our bitterest draught of sorrow, is
mixed and administered by her hand.

She not only renders smooth or rough our path to the grave—but helps or hinders
our progress to immortality.

In heaven we shall bless God for her aid in assisting us to reach that blissful
state—or amid the torments of unutterable woe in another region, we shall
deplore the fatality of her influence!

I look beyond the painted and gaudy scene of earth’s fading vanities, to the
everlasting ages through which you must exist in torment or bliss; and, God
helping me, it shall not be my fault if you do not live in comfort, die in
peace, and inherit salvation! The first book they read

"Train up a child in the way he should go." Proverbs 22:6

Education in modern parlance, means nothing more than instruction, or the
communication of knowledge to the mind; and a good education means, the
opportunity of acquiring all kinds of learning, science, and what are called
achievements.

But properly speaking, education in the true and higher import of the term,
means . . .the implanting of right dispositions, the cultivation of the heart,
the guidance of the temper, the formation of the character.

The most important part of education is that which relates to the communication
of godly principles, and the formation of moral habits.

You educate your children by . . . your example, your conversations, your
likings and dislikings, your home life, your daily behavior, these, these will
educate them!

You began educating your children the moment they were capable of forming an
idea. This unconscious education is of more constant and powerful effect, and of
far more consequence than that which is direct and apparent. This education goes
on at every instant of time. It goes on like time—you can neither stop it nor
turn its course.

Your children may read many books, but the first book they read, and that which
they continue to read, and by far the most influential—is that of their parents’
example and daily deportment.

Pointing or leading?

Children have their eyes always upon their parents, and are quick to discern any
violations of consistency. If they see us as worldly-minded, as grasping and
anxious after riches, as solicitous to be surrounded by splendid furniture,
luxurious gratifications, and fashionable habits, as the people of the world—if
they see us deceitful, implacable, or malicious—what can they conclude but that
our religion is mere sham?

In such a case, of how little service is our attempt to impress upon their
minds, those claims which we ourselves ’practically’ deny? It were far better
for some parents to say nothing to their children about religion, for until they
alter their own conduct, their admonitions can produce no other effect than to
excite disgust!

It is enough to make every parent tremble—to think what a parent should be!
Without a godly example, everything else that we do is most lamentably
deficient! As has been often said, it is only pointing them the way to
heaven—but leading them in the way to hell!

They slay their own children!

A mother should never forget that those little engaging creatures which play
about the room so gaily and so innocently, with all the unconsciousness of
childhood, are young immortals—beings destined to eternity—creatures placed on
earth on probation for heaven—and that much will depend upon her, whether the
everlasting ages shall be spent by them in torment—or in bliss!

This is an overwhelming thought!

All should realize the sublime idea that . . .their houses are the schools for
eternity; their children the scholars; themselves the teachers; and evangelical
religion the lesson.

Those parents who neglect the religious education of their children, whatever
else they may impart, are more guilty than Herod!

He slew the children of others, they slay their own children!

He slew only the body, they slay the soul!

He slew them by hired assassins, they slay their children themselves!

We shudder at the cruelties of those who sacrificed their babes to Moloch. But
how much more dreadful an immolation do they practice, who offer up their sons
and daughters to Satan, by neglecting the education of their souls, and leaving
them to grow up in ignorance of God and their eternal destiny!

Mothers! Your religion, if it is genuine, will teach you at once the greatness
of the work, and your own insufficiency to perform it aright in your own
strength. Your business is to train immortal beings for God, heaven, and
eternity! The domestic slave

There are various kinds of slavery in the world, and many classes of victims of
this cruel bondage. There is among others, the domestic slave, whose tyrant is
her husband—and the scene of her bondage, her home!

His stinginess allows her scanty supplies for bare necessities. His selfishness
is so engrossing and exacting, that his demands for his own personal ease and
indulgence are incessant, and leave her no time for the consideration of her own
comfort. His disposition is so bad, that all her diligence to please are
unavailing to give him satisfaction, or to avert the sallies of his
irritability, discontent, and complaints.

When such a man protests against Negro-slavery, let him begin the work of
emancipation at home, by raising the oppressed woman he holds in bondage there,
from the condition of a drudge—into the station of a wife!

But there are also many sad cases in which the slavery is self-imposed! The
bondage comes from the wife herself! The husband would gladly release her—but
she will not let him!

Some are slaves to neatness—and make their fidgety anxiety about this matter a
misery to themselves and all around them!

Others are slaves to fashion—and are always anxious and troubled about elegance
and refinement!

Others are slaves to domestic display, parties and amusements—and are always
full of anxiety about making a splendid appearance!

Others are slaves to frugality—and are ever vexing themselves to economize!

In these ways women will torment themselves and fill their minds with
unnecessary cares and self-imposed troubles! To all such we say, "Martha,
Martha, you are anxious and troubled about so many things!" A hideous skeleton!
A collection of bones! A heap of dust!

"Don’t be concerned about the outward beauty that depends on fancy hairstyles,
expensive jewelry, or beautiful clothes. You should be known for the beauty that
comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so
precious to God." 1 Peter 3:3-4

How exquisitely is this put! How impressive the ideas which are conveyed! It is
the decoration of the soul rather than of the body, about which Christian women
should be chiefly solicitous and concerned.

The soul is indestructible and immortal—so should its ornaments be. What can
jewels of silver or jewels of gold do for the soul?

Can the diamond sparkle upon the intellect? Or the ruby blaze upon the heart? Or
the pearl be set in the conscience? Or the gorgeous robe clothe the character?
Or the flower wave over the holy nature?

No! The appropriate ornaments of the soul are truth, holiness, knowledge, faith,
hope, love, joy, humility; and all the other gifts and graces of the
Spirit—wisdom, prudence, fortitude and gentleness. These are the jewels with
which the inner heart should be adorned. The outer body is corruptible. Dust it
is, and unto dust it shall return.

That beautiful woman glittering in all the profusion of diamonds—the admiration
and envy of the party or the ball room—must before long be a mass of
putrefaction too ghastly to be looked upon—and then a hideous skeleton, a
collection of bones, a heap of dust!

And where will be the immortal spirit? Will it wear the cast-off jewels of the
body? O no! These remain, rescued from the grasp of the ’king of terrors’, but
only to ornament other bodies!

But turn now to that other female, the woman who, regardless of the decoration
of the body, was all intent upon the beauty of the soul. Look at her, who was
clothed with the robe of righteousness and the garment of salvation, and
decorated with the ornaments of a gentle and quiet spirit.

She too dies; but her indestructible and immortal soul over which death has no
dominion, goes not unadorned into the presence of the Eternal; for the jewels
with which it decorated itself on earth are as indestructible as its own nature,
and go with it to shine in the presence of God!

All taken up with fashion, amusement, and folly!

"Make the teaching about God our Savior attractive in every way." Titus 2:10

It is a solemn thing to profess to be a disciple of Christ.

It supposes you to be a new creature, that old things have passed away, and that
all things have become new with you.

It supposes that you have . . .new principles, new motives, new ends of life,
new tastes and new pleasures.

Now, your profession is to be maintained with a due regard to this. Your conduct
must correspond with it.

You must be dissimilar in these things, to those who make no such profession.
They must see the difference as well as hear of it. You must compel them to say,
"Well, we do not like her religion, but it is quite in harmony with her
profession."

Study your profession, and thoroughly understand what it implies and enjoins.
Consider well . . .what holiness of conduct; what spirituality of mind; what
separation from the world in spirit and taste; what devotional feelings; what
faith, hope, love and humility; what amiableness and kindness of disposition,
are included in that declaration you have actually made—"I am a Christian!"

She who is bent upon eternity, cannot sink down into the levity of those who are
all taken up with fashion, amusement, and folly!

The possessor of true religion is satisfied with her own sources of enjoyment,
without running to the amusements of the world for pleasure and excitement.

One of the loveliest scenes

A married couple without mutual love, is one of the most pitiable spectacles on
earth! They remain united only to be a torment to each other!

A loving, united, harmonious family, where the children all promote the comfort
of their parents and of one another; where each is studious to please and to
perform all fond kindnesses for the rest, and all seek the happiness of each
other, is one of the loveliest scenes to be found in our selfish and discordant
world! So much time thrown away on these elegant trifles!

"Redeeming the time, because the days are evil." Ephesians 5:16

There are three things which, if lost, can never be recovered—time, the soul,
and an opportunity.

In order to be useful, it is necessary to cultivate habits of order,
punctuality, and the right employment of time.

There is no doing good without the proper use of time.

Two things cannot be done at once. Benevolent service requires time. And how
much time is wasted, which the miseries and needs of society require! "Redeem
the time!" is a warning that should ever be sounding in our ears!

We need time for the improvement of our own souls—and we need it for the good of
others. We can do much with a proper use of time—and nothing without it. There
is scarcely anything to which the injunction of our Lord more strictly applies
than to time—"Gather up the fragments that nothing be lost." Order redeems time,
so does punctuality—therefore order and punctuality are ways of supplying the
time necessary for the exercise of deeds of mercy.

Redeem time from useless reading, and other selfish entertainments—and also from
that excessive addictedness to the worldly accomplishments of music, arts, and
fancy craft-works, which are so characteristic of the present day. That some
portion of time may be given to these things is admitted. I am not for parting
with the exquisite polish which skill in these matters imparts to female
elegance. I love to see the decorations of female mind and manners. Of this I
may have to speak again in a future chapter, and therefore shall merely now
enquire—when the cries of misery are entering into her ears, and the groans of
creation are arising all around her; when countless millions abroad are living
and dying without the light of the gospel and the hope of salvation; when at our
own doors will be found so many passing in ignorance and wickedness to their
eternal destinies—is it humane for a Christian woman to spend so much precious
time each day over her knitting, crotchet, or embroidery work? As she sits
plying those needles, and bringing out, it may be, the tasteful design, hour
after hour—does she never hear the cry of human woe, "Come over and help us!"
Does it never occur to her, how many souls have gone into eternity unprepared to
meet their God, since she took her chair and commenced her daily entertainment?

Or, even leaving out of view the employment of her time for deeds of mercy to
others; is it not an afflicting sight to behold so much time thrown away on
these elegant trifles, which might be employed in cultivating one’s own mind and
heart, by reading useful Christian literature?

You cannot, systematically, do good either to yourself or others, without
redeeming time for the purpose!

True religion

True religion is . . .personal, experimental, practical.

It is a thing of the heart—and not merely external religious forms.

True religion is a living principle in the soul . . . influencing the mind,
alluring the affections, guiding the will, directing and enlightening the
conscience.

True religion is a supreme—not a subordinate matter. It demands and obtains the
throne of the soul. It guides the whole character—and requires the whole man and
all his conduct to be in subordination.

True religion is not an occasional thing—but habitual. It takes up its abode in
the heart—and not merely visits it at certain times and at particular seasons.

True religion is not a partial thing—but universal. It does not confine itself
to certain times, places, and occasions—but forms an integral part of the
character—and blends with everything we do.

True religion is noble and lofty—not an abject, servile, and groveling thing. It
communes . . .with God, with truth, with holiness, with heaven, with eternity,
with infinity!

True religion is a happy—and not a melancholy thing. It gives peace that passes
understanding, and joy that is unspeakable, and full of glory!

True religion is a durable—and not a transient thing. It . . .passes with us
through life, lies down with us on the pillow of death, rises with us at the
last day, and dwells in our souls in heaven as the very element of eternal life!

Such is true religion—the most sublime thing in the world—sent down to be our
comforter on earth—and our guide to everlasting life through all this gloomy
valley!

Literature, science, politics, commerce, and the arts, are all important in
their place and measure; and men give proof that they duly, or rather unduly
estimate their importance—by the devoted manner in which they attend to them. To
multitudes, these thing are everything.

Yet man is an immortal creature, and there is an eternity before him—and what
direct relation have these things to immortality? Or what influence do they
exert on our everlasting destiny in the eternal world? More—do they make us
either virtuous or happy in this world? Is there any necessary connection
between any, or all of these things—with human felicity? They call out and
employ the noble faculties of the mind; they raise man from savage to civilized
society; they refine the taste; they embellish life; they decorate the stage on
which the great drama of existence is carried on—and give interest to the
performance!

But do any of these things reach the seat of man’s chief pleasures or pains—the
heart? Do they . . .cure its disorders, correct its tastes, mitigate its
sorrows, or soften its weightiest cares?

Do any of these things comfort man amid . . .the wreck of his fortunes, the
disappointment of his hopes, the loss of his friends, the malignity of his
enemies, the pains of a sick chamber, the struggles of a dying bed, the prospect
of a coming judgment?

No! True religion is that, and that alone, which can do this! And this it can
do, and is continually doing!


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  CHAPTER 92: 07.03.     VOLUME 3 CONT'D
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The surest guide to success in this world

What is your life, but a voyage to eternity!

A life altogether unprepared for, must be a life of perpetual mistakes, faults,
and miseries.

The chief preparation for life is the formation of a moral and spiritual
character. Genuine piety, the parent of sound morality, is the surest guide to
success in this world. And as true religion is the best guide to happiness in
this world, likewise it is the only way to happiness in the world to come.

True piety will preserve you from all the habits which tend to poverty and
misery—and aid the formation of all habits which tend to usefulness and
happiness.

"Who can show us any good?"

Many are asking, "Who can show us any good?" Psalms 4:6

Man is made for happiness, and is capable of it. But what is happiness—and how
is it to be obtained? To possess and enjoy it, man must be furnished with some
good—suited to his nature, adapted to his condition, and adequate to his
capacity and desires.

The nature of the chief good has been, in every age, the interesting subject of
most earnest philosophic inquiry. But how various and opposed, have been the
conclusions at which the inquirers have arrived on this important subject.
Varro, a learned Latin writer, who lived before Christ, reckoned up more than
two hundred different opinions on this subject—thus plainly evincing man’s
ignorance of his own nature, circumstances, and needs.

Not perceiving what it is that has made him miserable—man cannot know what will
make him happy! Unacquainted with, or rather overlooking, the disease—he cannot
know the remedy!

He feels an aching void within, an unsatisfied craving after something—but knows
neither the nature, nor the source, of the food adapted to meet and satisfy his
hungry appetite.

The vagrant spirit of man is seen wandering from God—the fountain of
bliss—roaming through this "dry and thirsty land, where there is no water;"
anxiously looking for happiness, but never finding it; coming often to springs
that are dry, and to cisterns that are broken; until weary of the pursuit and
disappointed in its hopes, it is ready to give up all in despair, and reconcile
itself to misery, under the notion that happiness is but a fiction!

In this sad and hopeless mood, the victim of grief and despondency is met by the
Bible, which takes him by the hand, and leads him to the fountain of living
waters. Such is the design of Scripture—to show first of all what will not make
man happy, and then what will.

Upon all the most coveted possessions of this world, it pronounces the solemn
and impressive sentence, "Vanity of vanities! All is vanity!" It interrogates
singly every coveted object of human desire, and asks, "What are you?" only to
receive the melancholy answer, "Vanity!"

Nothing ’on earth’ can satisfy the soul of man, as its supreme good. Science has
multiplied its discoveries, art its inventions, and literature its productions.
Civilization has opened new sources of luxury, and ingenuity has added
innumerable gratifications of appetite and of taste. Every domain of nature has
been explored; every conceivable experiment been made, to find new means of
enjoyment, and new secrets of happiness. But still the heart of man confirms,
and the experience of the human race prolongs the echo—"Vanity of vanities! All
is vanity!"

What is the nature and the source of happiness?

What is . . .to terminate the weary pursuits, to revive the languid hopes, to
gratify the anxious desires, of destitute and sorrowing people, hungering and
thirsting after bliss?

What human reason is thus proved to be too ignorant and too weak to decide, the
Bible undertakes to settle; and explicitly, imperatively, and infallibly,
determines for all and forever. Only Biblical Christianity . . .suits the
nature, meets the needs, alleviates the sorrows, satisfies the desires, of the
human soul—and is its portion forever.

Only Christianity . . .finds man depraved—and makes him holy; finds him
little—and makes him great; finds him earthly—and raises him to heaven!

"You are my portion, O my God. Your favor is life, and your love is better than
life. You are the center, the rest, the home of my heart!"

"Everyone who drinks this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks the water
I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a
spring of water welling up to eternal life!" John 4:13-14

The idol of our day!

One of the evils of our age, is an excessive love of pleasure, which leads to
self-indulgence, and indisposes the mind for sober thought and true piety.

Love of pleasure is one of the growing tendencies of the day in which we live,
and threatens infinite damage to the present and eternal welfare of mankind, by
bringing on an age of frivolity, sensuality and ’practical atheism’.

Find your pleasure, young men . . .in the improvement of your mind, in attention
to duties, in true piety, and in active benevolence. Is there not scope enough
for enjoyment here?

Excessive worldliness is another of the dangers of this age. In our wealthy and
materialistic country, there is most imminent peril of sinking into the mere
worldling, and living only to get wealth. Never was there so great a danger of
having . . .the conscience benumbed, moral principles prostrated, the heart
rendered callous, the intellect emptied of its strength, as in the age in which
we live!

Wealth is the idol of our day! Without watchfulness and prayer, you are in
danger of . . .bowing devoutly at its shrine, becoming its worshipers, and
immolating your souls as a burnt-offering on its altars!

A bad word!

"We may throw the dice, but the Lord determines how they fall." Proverbs 16:33

"Luck!" There is no such thing in our world, none in nature, none in human
affairs.

Luck means that an event has no cause at all. It is a bad word—a heathen term.
Drop it from your vocabulary! Trust nothing to luck, and expect nothing from it.
Avoid all practical dependence upon it or its kindred words . . .fate, chance,
fortune.

Never forget your dependence upon God. He can exalt you to prosperity—or sink
you into the lowest depth of adversity. He can make everything to which you set
your hand to prosper—or to fail. Devoutly acknowledge this. Abhor the atheism
that shuts God out of His own world!


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  CHAPTER 93: 07.04     VOLUME 4
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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

The sin of killing time

"Only fools idle away their time." Proverbs 12:11

Idleness is a complicated vice. Yes, I say VICE!

First it is a most wasteful vice. It wastes time, which is more precious than
rubies; it wastes a man’s mental faculties; it wastes property.

Idleness is a disgraceful vice. How reproachful is it in a being made to be
active, to spend life in doing nothing, and to throw away his mental powers in
sloth.

Idleness is a criminal vice. God has commanded us to be active, and will call us
to account for the sin of killing time.

Idleness is a dangerous vice. Doing nothing is next to doing evil—and is sure to
lead to it. From its very inaction it ultimately becomes the active cause of all
evil. "The Devil tempts all men; but the idle man tempts the Devil."

Idleness is a wretched vice. An idle man is the most miserable of all God’s
creatures. Woe be to the man who is doomed to bear the pain and penalties of a
slothful disposition.

"And we urge you, brothers, warn those who are idle." 1 Thessalonians 5:14

Fortified by true piety

"Fathers, do not exasperate your children; instead, bring them up in the
training and instruction of the Lord." Ephesians 6:4

Parents! How momentous a duty is it to give sound Christian instruction to your
children at the earliest period in which they can receive it; and endeavor, by
the most judicious, affectionate, and persevering methods, to form their
character by true religion!

Train them up in the fear of God—that they may leave home fortified by true
piety, to encounter the temptations of the world, and to endure the trials of
life.

Next to God Himself, a pious child is a parent’s best companion amid the
infirmities of old age, and in the chamber of sickness and death.

Self-seeking, men-pleasing ministers

"Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please
men? If I were still trying to please men, I would not be a servant of Christ."
Galatians 1:10

A fearless disregard of . . .smiles or frowns, character or consequences,
opposition or approbation, pay or popularity, will always distinguish the true
servant of Christ from self-seeking, men-pleasing ministers.

"For we speak as messengers who have been approved by God to be entrusted with
the Gospel. Our purpose is to please God, not men. He is the one who examines
the motives of our hearts." 1 Thessalonians 2:4

By its own powerful and holy instinct

"I will give you a new heart with new and right desires, and I will put a new
spirit in you. I will take out your stony heart of sin and give you a new,
obedient heart." Ezekiel 36:26

The new nature, by its own powerful and holy instinct, will turn away your feet
from every forbidden place, and every unhallowed scene. Panting after God, and
thirsting for the living God, taking pleasure in His ways, you will shudder at
the idea of being found in the haunts of vice, or in the society of the vicious.
It will be unnecessary to forbid your going to the tavern, the theater, the
house of ill fame, the gambling-table, or horse-race. Your own renewed and
sanctified nature will be a law against these things.

The shrine of Mammon

"You lack only one thing. Go and sell all you have and give the money to the
poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow Me." At this, the
man’s face fell, and he went sadly away because he had many possessions. Mark
10:21-22

You see what was the defect in this young man. He did not possess the faith
which overcomes the world. He wished to unite two things utterly
irreconcilable—the love of God and the love of the world. He wanted to serve two
masters, God and Mammon. It was not open vice and profligacy that kept him from
true religion here, and from heaven hereafter.

It was the more decent and reputable sin of supreme attachment to worldly
things. He could give up many sins, but he could not give up his besetting
sin—supreme regard to wealth. He could do many things, but he could not give up
all to follow Christ. He could give up open vice, but he could not deny himself
and take up his cross. He had many good qualities, but he lacked one thing.

If open vice has slain its thousands, worldliness has slain its tens of
thousands!

Of all the false gods, the shrine of Mammon is most resorted to—it is from that
idolatrous temple, the broadest and most beaten path to the bottomless pit will
be found. In the crowd which press along that path, are included, not only the
knaves, the cheats, and men of dishonorable character; but men who follow things
which are just, and honest, and true, and reputable; who yet rise to no higher
than to be the worshipers of this sordid deity. Yes, even Mammon can boast of
devotees who scorn all that is vile, dishonorable and unjust.

In the broad road which leads to destruction, there is a path for the lovers of
the world—as well as for the lovers of vice!

Other Baals!

"How long are you going to waver between two opinions? If Jehovah is God, follow
Him! But if Baal is God, then follow him!" 1 Kings 18:21

There are other Baals in this age, in all the various forms under which they are
objects of human idolatry.

It is true you are not called, invited or disposed, to bow the knee to idols of
wood, stone, or metal.

These, however, are not the only way in which idolatry may be practiced.
Everyone has a god, and if man does not love and worship Jehovah, he will make a
deity of his own image. Survey, young men, the idols which you are called upon
to worship!

Among them, sustaining a high place, is the idol of SENSUALITY. This goddess is
decked out with all that can pollute the imagination, inflame the passions, or
excite the evil propensities of a youthful heart. Before this image, multitudes
of devotees of both sexes bow the knee and offer the most costly sacrifices of
property, health, principle, and reputation!

Near her is the bewitching and smiling image of WORLDLY PLEASURE, with the sound
of music, the song, and the dance—alluring the giddy and thoughtless to its
orgies; and throwing the spell of its fascinations over the imagination of
multitudes who go merrily to their ruin!

MAMMON, the despicable deity of wealth, is there, glittering with gold, and
offering riches to his eager followers as the reward of their diligent and
faithful adherence. His liturgy is the cry of "Money! Money! Money!" His
sacrifices are the time, the bodies, the comfort, and the souls of his
worshipers!

Near this is the shrine of HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. This idol is only evil, when raised
above the place of faith, piety, and virtue. When thus exalted above Scripture,
it is a deceiving, corrupting idol—the false goddess of a Pantheon of Vices.

Nor must we leave out the idols of FALSE RELIGION, the chief of which is
Popery—the anti-Christ of the Apocalypse, "the Man of Sin sitting in the temple
of God, exalting itself above all that is called God." This idol, taking the
name of Christ as its designation, assuming the cross as its symbol, and
boasting of an apostle as its first pope; enriched by wealth; venerable for
antiquity; dignified by learning; decorated by sculpture, architecture, and
painting; and adding the abysmal policies, and most serpentine craft to all
these other dangerous qualities, has fascinated countless millions! And,
notwithstanding the monstrous absurdity of its doctrines, the blood-stained page
of its history, and its hostility to the liberties of mankind—is now putting
forth the most arrogant claims, and making the most audacious attempts for the
conquest of our country!

These idolaters have chosen their god, and are the determined and devoted
worshipers of their Baals!

They have hardened their hearts, and seared their consciences, except it be an
occasional qualm in the season of death or sickness.

They congratulate themselves upon their having thrown off all the weaknesses and
fears of Christianity, and upon their being now enabled to pursue their downward
course unchecked by the restraint of conscience. Unhappy men, blind, and
glorying in their blindness; benumbed in all their moral faculties, and exulting
in their stupidity! With every tie cut, which held them to piety and truth, they
account it a privilege that they are drifting unobstructed to
destruction—determined to be lost, and rejoicing that nothing bars their path to
the bottomless pit!

"These men have set up idols in their hearts!" Ezekiel 14:3

"Their hearts were devoted to their idols!" Ezekiel 20:16

Saving faith

Saving faith expresses itself not only in worship, in religious zeal, in charity
to the poor—but in a systematic and strong restraint upon the passions,
imagination, temper, and appetites.

Saving faith will ensure you . . .the protection of omnipotence; the guidance of
omniscience; the companionship of omnipresence; the supplies of all-sufficiency.

Saving faith will fill your intellect with the thoughts of God’s own mind, and
your soul with the joy of God’s own heart—and thus furnish you at once with the
supreme truth, and the chief good.

Saving faith will mingle its own heavenly pleasures with the pure delights of
earth.

Saving faith will preserve you equally from the snares of prosperity, and the
withering blasts of adversity.

Saving faith will be . . .your nurse in sickness, your companion in solitude,
and your preserver amid the corruptions of society.

Saving faith will be your shield against temptations to sin, and the insidious
attacks of infidelity and false philosophy.

Saving faith will be . . .the guide of your youth, the protector of your matured
life, and the prop of your old age.

Saving faith will prepare you for early death, or for living until old age. It
will smooth the pillow of death, by giving you immortal hopes amid the
dissolution of nature. It will rise with you from the grave in that day when
death shall be swallowed up in victory, and will put you in possession of glory,
honor, immortality, and eternal life!

These are the fools of whom Solomon speaks!

"Whoever walks with the wise will become wise; but the companion of fools shall
be destroyed!" Proverbs 13:20

Young men! There are evil companions to be avoided!

The workhouse, the lunatic asylum, the prison, the gallows, the bottomless pit,
all, all, attest the truth of this, by the millions they have swallowed up in
their jaws of destruction!

Evil companionship has ruined . . .more characters, more fortunes, more bodies,
and more souls, than almost anything else that could be named.

Young men! Evil companionship is one of your first and most pressing dangers.
Character assimilates to that which surrounds it. You must take your character,
to a certain extent, from your companions.

Do not have bad companions! Men . . .who scoff at Christianity, who ridicule the
godly, who make light of sin and laugh at conscience, who are lewd in their
actions, or obscene in their talk, who are lovers of pleasure more than lovers
of God, who are extravagant in their habits, who are loose in their moral
principles, these are the fools of whom Solomon speaks,—who will bring their own
destruction upon you, if you do not avoid them!

With much the same emphasis do I warn you against bad BOOKS. There are books
that inflame the imagination and corrupt the taste—that by their excitement
unfit the mind for the sober realities of life—or by continuous light
entertainment, indispose the mind for what is serious and holy. These are all to
be avoided.

In some respects bad books are more mischievous than bad companions, since they
are more accessible, and more constantly with us. They can be more secretly
consulted, and lodge their poison more abidingly in . . .the imagination, the
intellect, and the heart!

A bad book is a bad companion of the worst kind, and prepares for bad companions
of all other kinds!

"Whoever walks with the wise will become wise; but the companion of fools shall
be destroyed!" Proverbs 13:20 A most dangerous propensity!

"Lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God." 2 Timothy 3:4

A pleasure-loving youth will become a pleasure-loving man.

A love of pleasure, a taste for amusement, is a most dangerous propensity!

Novels

As to novels, I join with every other moral and religious writer in condemning,
as the vilest trash, the greater part of these productions, which have carried a
turbid stream of vice over the morals of mankind.

Novels . . .corrupt the taste, pollute the heart, debase the mind, demoralize
the conduct.

Novels throw prostrate the understanding; sensualize the affections; enervate
the will; and bring all the high faculties of the soul into subjection to a wild
imagination.

Novels generate a morbid, sickly sentimentalism, instead of a just and lovely
realism.

A wise man should despise novels, and a godly man should abhor them!

The theater!

I do not hesitate for a moment to pronounce the theater to be one of the
broadest avenues which lead to destruction!

Fascinating, no doubt it is—but on that account the more delusive and the more
dangerous! Let a young man once acquire a taste for this species of
entertainment, and yield himself up to its gratification, and he is in imminent
danger of becoming a lost character—rushing upon his ruin!

All the evils that can . . .waste his property, corrupt his morals, blast his
reputation, impair his health, embitter his life, and destroy his soul, lurk in
the confines of the theater! Vice, in every form, lives, and moves, and has its
being there!

Myriads have cursed the hour when they first exposed themselves to the
contamination of the theater. >From that fatal evening, they date their
destruction!

Take warning then, and have nothing to do with the theater. Avoid it as one of
the avenues to the broad road that leads to destruction. The danger is greater
than I describe. The doors of the theater are as the jaws of the devouring lion!

"Do not follow the crowd in doing evil." Exodus 23:2

Our life is a bubble!

"What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then
vanishes!" James 4:14

Our world is a valley of tears. Our life is a bubble, raised from those tears,
inflated by sighs; which, after floating a little while, decked with a few gaudy
colors—is touched by the hand of death, and dissolves!

Poverty, disease, misfortune, unkindness, instability, death, all assail the
travelers as they journey onward to eternity through this gloomy valley.

"So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen
is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18

When the honey is all sucked!

Love of worldly pleasure is a great impediment to true piety. It has been most
wickedly said, "Youth is the time for pleasure, manhood is the time for
business, old age is the time for religion." It is painful to observe, that if
the two latter parts of human life are neglected, the first is not.

Young people too often answer the description given by the apostle, "Lovers of
pleasure more than lovers of God."

In youth, there are many temptations to this wicked propensity . . .the senses
are vigorous, the spirits lively, the imagination ardent, the passions warm, and
the concerns of life but few and feeble.

Hence many give themselves up to the impulses of their corrupt nature, and are
held in alienation from a life of piety—by a love of pleasure. Some are carried
away by a vain and frivolous love of dress and show; others by a delight in
mirth and parties; others by games, balls, and theatrical performances; others
by the sports of the field; others by intemperance and debauchery.

It is admitted that all these gratifications are not equally degrading in
themselves—nor equally destructive of reputation and health. But if indulged in
as the chief good, they may all prevent the mind from attending to the concerns
of true religion.

A predominant love of worldly pleasure, of any kind—is destructive in every
point of view. It often leads on from gratifications which, in the opinion of
the world, are decent and moral—to those which are wicked and immoral. It is
incompatible with the duties and comforts of domestic life. It hinders the
improvement of the understanding, and keeps the mind barren and empty. It
prevents from becoming the benefactors of society. But its greatest mischief is,
that it totally indisposes the mind for true religion, and thus extends its
mischief to eternity! In short, if a predominant love of worldly pleasure is
cherished and persisted in, it ruins and damns the soul forever!

My children, beware of this most dangerous propensity for worldly pleasure!
Consider where it leads—resist it to the uttermost—and ask grace from God to
acquire a better taste.

Yes, if you live for worldly pleasure, and neglect true religion, you are giving
up an exceeding great and eternal weight of glory—for light and frivolous
gratifications, which are but for a moment! You are, for the sake of a few
years’ empty mirth, entailing everlasting ages of unmitigated torments!

Besides, though worldly pleasure may temporarily gratify—it does not really
satisfy! When the honey is all sucked—it leaves a sting behind!

And what are the pleasures of the world, compared with those of true piety? But
the shadow to the substance; the stagnant pool to the fresh and running
fountain; the smoking candle to the midday sun!

Shall worldly pleasure cheat you of eternal salvation?

He certainly acts as an atheist!

Fathers! Your children are immortal beings! The stamp of eternity is upon them!
Everlasting ages are before them! They are like the rest of the human
race—depraved, guilty, and condemned creatures; and consequently in danger of
eternal misery! Yet they are, through the mercy of God, creatures capable of
attaining to glory, honor, immortality, and eternal life. Looking upon them in
this light, what should be your chief concern for them—and what should be your
conduct towards them?

Fathers! Your children are hastening to either eternal happiness—or eternal
torment!

The man who does not make the eternal welfare of his children, the supreme end
of all his conduct towards them, may profess to believe as a Christian—but he
certainly acts as an Atheist!

Once more let it be stated, and stated with all possible emphasis—that the chief
design of this work is to form the pious character of its readers, and to
implant those virtues which shall live, and flourish, and dignify, and
delight—infinite ages after every object that is dear . . .to avarice or pride,
to learning or science, to taste or ambition, shall have perished in the
conflagration of the universe!

It is in the highest degree inconsistent, absurd, cruel, and wicked—for a
Christian parent not to be supremely desirous of the everlasting welfare of his
children! Let a supreme concern for their immortal interests be at the bottom of
all your conduct, and be interwoven with all your parental habits!

Taste & distaste

True religion changes the moral nature, producing . . .a dislike and dread of
sin, and a love of holiness and virtue.

Piety is a spiritual taste; and, like every other taste, it is accompanied with
a distaste for the opposites of those things or qualities which are the subjects
of its delight. Sin is that bitter thing which the soul of a true Christian
hates. It is the object of his antipathy—and therefore of his dread. He turns
from it with aversion and loathing, as that which is offensive and disgusting.
It is not merely that he is commanded by authority to abstain from sin—but he is
led away from it by the expulsive power of a new attraction. He may have sinful
propensities of his carnal nature—but he resists the indulgence of them, for it
is sin against God.

When you have once tasted the sweetness of true religion—how insipid, how
nauseous, will be those draughts of ’wicked pleasure’ with which the sinner
intoxicates and poisons his soul!

When you have acquired a relish for the pure, calm, satisfying joys of faith and
holiness—how entirely will you disrelish the polluting, boisterous, and
unsatisfying pleasures of sin!

When you have once drunk of the waters of the river of life, clear as crystal,
proceeding from the throne of God and of the Lamb—how loathsome will be the
filthy turbid streams of licentious gratification! The pursuits of butterflies
and grasshoppers, and canary birds!

Pleasure is the supreme good, and chief object of pursuit of many. To pleasure,
they have devoted their lives. Some are living for sports, others for the
gratification of the appetites, and others for the enjoyment of the round of
fashionable amusements. Pleasure, in one form or other, is the chief object of
pursuit with myriads.

As to the gratification of our animal appetites, it should not be difficult to
persuade us, that to sink to the level of the brute creation, and hold communion
with swine, and goats and rats, cannot be the chief end of a rational being.

To many, fashionable amusements seem to be the purpose of life. Multitudes live
for pleasures of this kind. Ball succeeds to concert; the private party to the
public assembly; the card party to the dinner party. In this busy round of
fashionable follies, many pass their lives away!

Can it be, that the chief object of existence is to sing, and play, and dress
and dance? Do not these things, when we reflect upon them, look more like the
pursuits of butterflies and grasshoppers, and canary birds—than of rational
creatures? Is it not melancholy to see beings with never-dying souls, sinking to
the amusements of children; and employing time as if it were given them for
nothing but mirth; and using the world as if it were created by God only to be a
sort of playground for its inhabitants?

Does this kind of life really satisfy those who pursue it?

Far, very far, from it! Can any person, in reality, be farther from happiness
than those who live for pleasure?

"O Lord, save me from the men of this world—who have their portion in this
life!" Psalms 17:14

A bubble that rises, and shines, and bursts!

"Be very careful, then, how you live—not as fools but as wise, redeeming the
time, because the days are evil." Ephesians 5:15-16

Paul implies that a man can give no greater proof of folly, nor more effectually
act the part of a fool, than to waste his time. While on the other hand, a just
appreciation and right improvement of time are among the brightest displays of
true wisdom.

We must value time correctly, and improve it diligently.

Time is the most precious thing in the world. God distributes time miserly—by
the moment—and He never promises us another moment! We are to highly value, and
diligently to improve the present moment, by the consideration that for anything
we know, it may be our last.

Time, when once gone, never returns. Where is yesterday? A moment once lost, is
lost forever!

We should never forget that our time is among the talents for which we must give
account at the judgment of God. We must be tried not only for what we have
done—but for what we neglected to do. Not only for the hours spent in sin—but
for those wasted in idleness. Let us beware of wasting time.

It might stir us up to diligence in the improvement of our time, to think how
much of it has been already misspent. What days, and weeks, and months, and
years, have already been utterly wasted, or exhausted upon trifles totally
unworthy of them. They are gone, and nothing remains of them but the guilt of
having wasted them. We cannot call them back if we would. Let us learn to value
more highly, and to use more kindly, those days which remain.

How much of our time is already gone—and how little may be yet to come? The
sands of our hour-glass may be almost out! Death may be at the door!

When you begin a day, you don’t know that you shall end it! When you lie down,
you don’t know that you shall rise up! When you leave your house, you don’t know
that you shall ever return!

For what is your life? It is even as a vapor that appears for a little while and
then vanishes! Life is a bubble that rises, and shines, and bursts! We know not
in any one period of our existence—but that it may be the last. Surely, surely,
we should then improve our time, when we may be holding, for anything we know,
the last portion of it in our hands!

You are immortal creatures, and must live forever in torment or in bliss! And
certainly you cannot be forming a right estimate of the value of time, nor be
rightly employing it, if the soul be forgotten, salvation neglected, and
eternity left out of consideration!

Our great concern!

"There are three things that will endure—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest
of these is love." 1 Corinthians 13:13

Real Christianity consists of these three apostolic graces.

All else is but her earthly attire, which may vary in fashion and color, without
affecting her substance and life, or destroying her symmetry. Had this been
understood, believed, remembered, and practiced from the beginning . . . what
monstrous systems of error; what iron yokes of spiritual tyranny; what bloody
persecutions; what ecclesiastic arrogance and presumption; what disfigurements
of the simple and spiritual religion of the meek and lowly Jesus, by pagan rites
and external ceremonies; what foul blots upon the fair form of
Christianity—would the world have been spared!

Amid the controversies and decrees of church councils, how has the still small
voice of the apostle been stifled, which says, "There are three things that will
endure—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love."

How forward have men been to admire this sacred trio, but how slow to imitate
them!

Poets have sung their charms! Painters have delineated their beauty! Music has
chanted their praises!Eloquence has emblazoned their worth!

What remains but for preachers to make them the prevailing themes of their
ministry—and for professing Christians to exhibit them in the practice of their
lives!

When this shall everywhere be done, and they shall universally come in place of
a heartless orthodoxy and an external ritualism—then the world will see
Christianity as she is, and will covet to be like her. But, until then,
multitudes will look upon Christianity with suspicion, and not a few turn from
her with disgust!

Our great concern should be to promote a healthful, spiritual, robust, and godly
piety in our churches; for which no external improvements in our architecture,
our music, or our services, can be a substitute!

What we should seek to maintain in our churches, is the more powerful dominion
of faith, hope, and love, compared with which, many of those matters which are
now rife among us, are but of very small importance.

Faith, hope, and love are the great themes of the Christian ministry, are
something more than matters of theory—something more than mere theses for the
theologian to discuss before an audience. They are matters of eternal life or
death—and should be preached as if the preachers believed them to be so.

The great idol!

"People will be lovers of themselves." 2 Timothy 3:2

Selfishness is the cause of all sin—the opposite of all holiness and virtue.

The essence of man’s sin, the sum of his moral depravity, is to love himself
supremely; to seek himself finally and exclusively; to make self, in one shape
or another, the center to which all his busy thoughts, anxious cares and
diligent pursuits, constantly tend.

Self-love is the most active and reigning principle in fallen nature! SELF is
the great idol which mankind are naturally disposed to worship; and selfishness
the grand interest to which they are devotedly attached!

Selfishness is contrary to the habitual temper of our Lord Jesus Christ. "For
even Christ did not please Himself."

The perfection of all virtue lies in unselfish love. The nearer we approach to
this state of mind, the nearer we come to sinless moral excellence. "Love is not
self-seeking."

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider
others better than yourselves." Php 2:3

The loathsome moral leprosy!

"Love does not boast—it is not proud." 1 Corinthians 13:4

Pride has a high and overweening conceit of its own possessions and
acquirements, and ostentatiously boasts of what it is, has done, can do, or
intends to do.

Pride signifies such an exalted idea of ourselves, as leads to self-esteem—and
to contempt of others.

Pride is self-admiration—self-doating.

Pride is the sin which laid the moral universe in ruins.

Pride is the original sin, the inherent corruption of our nature. Pride spreads
over humanity with contagious violence. Pride is the loathsome moral leprosy,
raging alike through the palace and the cottage, and infecting equally the
prince and the peasant.

Love is no less opposed to VANITY than it is to pride!

Pride differs from vanity thus—pride causes us to value ourselves; vanity makes
us anxious for applause.

Pride renders a man odious; vanity makes him ridiculous.

Love does not boast of, or ostentatiously display, its possessions, abilities,
or good deeds.

"Love does not boast—it is not proud." 1 Corinthians 13:4

Although they should spend every penny!

"If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but
have not love, I gain nothing!" 1 Corinthians 13:3

This representation of the indispensable necessity of Christian love, is most
striking. It supposes it possible that a man may distribute all his substance in
acts of apparent beneficence—and yet after all be without true religion!

Actions derive their moral character from the motives under the influence of
which they are performed.

Therefore, many actions which are beneficial to man, may still be sinful in the
sight of God, because they are not done from a right motives!

The most diffusive generosity—if prompted by pride, vanity or
self-righteousness—is of no value in the eyes of the omniscient Jehovah! On the
contrary, it is very sinful!

It is too evident to be questioned, that many of the charities of which we are
the witnesses, are done from any motives but the right ones. We readily see that
multitudes are lavish in their monetary contributions, who are at the same time
totally destitute of love to God. They are, as it respects real religion, less
than nothing, although they should spend every penny of their property in
relieving the needs of the poor!

If our munificence, however great or self-denying, be the operation of mere
selfish regard to ourselves, to our own reputation, or to our own safety—and not
of pure love—it may do good to others, but will do none to ourselves!

"If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but
have not love, I gain nothing!" 1 Corinthians 13:3

Seraph or demon?

Many conclude that they are true Christians, because of the intensity of their
religious feelings. Possessed of much excitability and warmth of temperament,
they are, of course, susceptible of deep and powerful impressions from true
religion. They are not without joy—and they are not without their religious
sorrows. Their tears are plentiful—and their smiles in proportion.

See them in the house of God, and none appear to feel more under the preaching
of the Word than they do. The sermon exerts an influential power over their
affections, and the preacher seems to have their hearts at command. They talk
loudly of "happy frames and precious seasons".

But follow them from the house of God to their own homes—and, O, how changed the
scene! The least offense, perhaps an unintentional one—raises a storm of angry
passion, and the man who looked like a seraph in the sanctuary—seems more like a
demon at home!

Follow them from the Sabbath into the other days of the week, and you will see
the man who appeared all for heaven on the Sunday—all for earth on the Monday!

Follow them from the assembly of the saints to the places of business—and you
will see the man wholooked so devout; now . . .irritated and quarrelsome,
selfish and unfair, crude and insulting, envious and malicious!

Yes! And perhaps in the evening of the same day, you will see him at a prayer
meeting, enjoying, as he supposes, the holy season!

Such is the delusion under which many are living! Their religion is, in great
part, is a mere selfish religious voluptuousness!

The necessary fruits of our doctrines

Let us remember that HUMILITY and LOVE are the necessary fruits of our
doctrines, and the highest beauty of our character!

True Christian love must be . . .blended with all our habits, diffused through
all our conduct, forming our character, breathing in our desires, speaking in
our words, beaming in our eyes.

This is true religion—practical religion.

"If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge,
and if I have a faith that can move mountains—but have not love, I am nothing!"
1 Corinthians 13:2 "Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is
love." 1 John 4:8

I can conceive of no higher heaven

In the sublime visions of the Apocalypse, where heaven is opened to our view, it
is Christ who is represented as the glory of that place . . .lighting up all
countenances with joy, filling all hearts with gladness, and making all tongues
vocal with praise.

Jesus is the sun of that blessed world—the orb of that nightless, cloudless, and
eternal day!

"I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far!" This was the
heaven Paul longed for. That one idea of ’being with Christ’ filled his soul. To
be absent from the body, and present with the Lord—was the prevailing wish of
his truly Christian heart.

Jesus is the object of the Christian’s supreme regard. Are there not moments
when he has . . .such views of Christ’s glory, such conceptions of His amazing
mercy, such a sense of His love, such feelings of gratitude and affection, that
he is ready to say, "If I feel all this now, when I only believe, what must be
the felicity . . .of beholding His full-orbed glory, of gazing upon His face,
and hearing His loving voice! I can conceive of no higher heaven, no more
perfect paradise, than to be in the presence of Him who died for me upon the
cross!"

There is something wonderfully impressive and delightful, in thus resolving the
bliss of heaven into a one state of mind, consisting of an adoring and grateful
love, for a being to whom we are indebted for redemption from an infinitude and
eternity of torment, and to an infinitude and eternity of bliss; and who adds to
all these claims upon our gratitude, additional claims upon our homage and
admiration—for His own infinity and eternal glories!

Elegance, entertainment, and luxurious gratification

"For the world offers only the lust for physical pleasure, the lust for
everything we see, and pride in our possessions. These are not from the Father.
They are from this evil world." 1 John 2:16

The ’spirit of the world’ has come into the church!

Elegance, entertainment, and luxurious gratification are occupying far more than
they ought to do, the minds of professing Christians!

"Therefore, come out from them and separate yourselves from them, says the Lord.
Don’t touch their filthy things, and I will welcome you." 2 Corinthians 6:17

A decent, flowery, down-hill way to eternal destruction!

Christ is . . .the supreme object of a true Christian’s love, the chief source
of his felicity, the highest end of his life.

The first object of a Christian’s desire, pursuit and expectation—is the
salvation of his soul.

Our great business on earth—is to fit for heaven.

Our main concern in time—is to prepare for eternity.

The world is, indeed, a very dangerous foe to the believer. To very, very many,
it is the most destructive one. They are not so likely to be subdued by ’open
vice’ as by worldly-mindedness.

Worldliness is the sin of the age, and has deeply infected the church of Christ.

"Do not love the world or anything in the world. If anyone loves the world, the
love of the Father is not in him." 1 John 2:15

This verse ought to ring through all Christendom, and make the ears of millions
tingle—and their hearts to palpitate with fear and alarm!

What is the world?

Not merely open sin and vice, profligacy, idolatry, infidelity or heresy. Oh no!
The world contains many things besides the lust of the eye, the lust of the
flesh, and the pride of life—things . . .more decent, more innocent, more
rational, more commendable, than these vile objects!

Everything on earth, however fair, laudable and excellent in itself—everything
besides God, is the world.

Your business is the world, your family is the world, your comfortable home is
the world, the wife of your bosom is the world, the children whom God has given
you are the world.

"What! then," you exclaim, "are we not to love these?" Yes, in proper
degrees—but not more than God. You are not to seek your highest happiness from
them. You are not to be more solicitous to secure them, than heaven. It is of a
’supreme love’ which the apostle speaks.

"Anyone who loves his father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me; anyone
who loves his son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me." Matthew 10:37

Christian professors, there is need to have these solemn, yet righteous demands,
sent with a voice of thunder into your places of business and scenes of domestic
comfort. You have need to be told that . . .all this engrossing solicitude about
business; all this eager haste to be rich; all this ambition for larger houses;
all this taste for elegance, show and fashion; all this competition for name and
fame, which leads to a neglect of salvation, to departure from God, to
indifference to heaven—is the love of the world, which is incompatible with the
love of the Father! And not less so . . .that supreme concern about domestic
enjoyment, that taste for fashionable amusements, or even that more refined and
simple love of home-bred delights, which leaves out God, salvation, heaven and
eternity!

Here, here, I repeat, is your peril.

Here the enemy with which you have to do battle!

It is not vice.

It is not profligacy.

It is worldly-mindedness!

Do we not see mere professors throwing themselves wholly—body, soul, and spirit
. . .into their trade, into the cherished objects of their ambition, into their
entire devotedness to a worldly life.

In these things, and for them, they live! These things . . .bind round and
overgrow their heart, stifle all serious thoughts, smother all heavenly desires.

The road that leads to destruction is broad enough to comprise many parallel
paths. And there is one path crowded with professors of religion, walking in
company, with cheerful appearance, and elegant attire, and elastic step—but
still walking to perdition! Oh, yes, there is a way ’through the church’—a
decent, flowery, down-hill way to eternal destruction, and there are many who
take that road!

The sweetest ingredients in the cup of life

The purest happiness of an earthly nature, is that which springs up in a
comfortable home, where there is a loving union of hearts between man and wife.

The tender sympathies, the delicate affections, the minute attentions, the
watchful solicitudes, the ceaseless kindnesses of marital love,—are the sweetest
ingredients in the cup of life, and contribute a thousand times more to earthly
enjoyment, than all the possessions of wealth, and all the blandishments of
rank, station, and fashion.

You are the one who has done this!

"They all know that the the hand of the Lord has done this. In His hand is the
life of every creature and the breath of all mankind." Job 12:9-10

"Be still, and know that I am God." Such is the admonition which comes to
you—and which comes from heaven. It is God Himself who has bereaved you—through
whatever second causes He has inflicted the blow. Not even a sparrow falls to
the ground without His knowledge—much less a rational and immortal creature. He
has the keys of death, and never for a moment entrusts them out of His hand—the
door of the sepulcher is never unlocked, but by Himself!

Though men may drop and die as unheeded by many, as the fall of the autumnal
leaf in the pathless desert—they die not by chance! Every incident which has
reduced you to your present sorrowful condition, is an individual decision of
infinite wisdom. Whether therefore, the death of your husband was slow or
sudden; at home or abroad; by accident or disease—it was appointed, and all its
circumstances arranged, by God. Be still, therefore, and know that He is God,
who does His will among the armies of heaven, and the inhabitants of earth, and
allows no one to question His proceedings.

Bow down before Him with unqualified submission—and find relief in acquiescence
to His wise and sovereign will.

Submission forbids all passionate invective; all rebellious language; all bitter
reflections on second causes; and all questionings about the wisdom, goodness,
or equity of the God of Providence. You should not only suppress all murmuring
and complaining language—but all thoughts and feelings of this kind. Submission
is that state of the soul under afflictive dispensations of Providence, which
produces an acquiescence in the will of God—as just, and wise, and good. It
expresses itself in some such manner as the following. "I deeply feel the heavy
loss I have sustained, and my nature mourns and weeps. But as I am persuaded it
is the Lord’s doing, who has a right to do as He pleases, and who is at the same
time too wise to mistake, and too benevolent to put me to unnecessary pain—I
endeavor to bow down to His holy will."

Did we really believe in the doctrine of Providence, and that He who
superintends its administration, unites to an arm of omnipotence—a mind of
infinite knowledge, and a heart of boundless love—submission would be easy!

Christian mourner, consider God as the author of all your trials—as well as of
all your comforts! View Him as your Father! Be assured that He loves you too
well to do you any harm! Be confident that He is making all things work together
for your good!

"I was silent; I would not open my mouth, for You are the one who has done
this!" Psalms 39:9

Continually churning up mire and dirt!

"The wicked are like the troubled sea, which cannot rest, whose waves are
continually churning up mire and dirt." Isaiah 57:20

Until the carnal mind, which is enmity against God, is regenerated and brought
to love God supremely, there can be no true happiness or peace. As long as the
heart is under the dominion of selfishness, and all those lusts and passions to
which it gives rise, it must be miserable!

In the absence of Christian love, the human bosom must be the seat of uneasiness
and distress.

Happiness does not arise from possessions, so much as from dispositions.
Happiness is not what a man has, or where he dwells—but what he IS. The great
source and springs of felicity, are rooted in our nature. There are certain
dispositions, the absence of which would render heaven a place of torment to us;
and others, which would raise for us an Eden in the midst of the dreariest
wilderness on earth.

It is true that many, in the absence of Christian love, pretend to some kind of
enjoyment, and have it too; for there are ’pleasures of sin’, such as they are.
But as to solid happiness—that which befits and satisfies a rational, moral, and
immortal creature—it may with the greatest truth be affirmed, that the wicked
are like the troubled sea which cannot rest—but is continually churning up mire
and dirt!

As well may we expect quietude and comfort in a den of wild beasts, or in a
field of battle—as in a heart where the vile passions of anger, wrath, malice,
envy, pride, and revenge—have taken up their abode and predominate. How
demon-like is the feeling when these turbulent evil passions gain the
ascendancy! What agitation and what torment are the result!

"The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and
debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage,
selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the
like." Galatians 5:19-21 The pastor

"We were as gentle among you as a mother feeding and caring for her own
children." 1 Thessalonians 2:7

Oh! what churches we would have, if Christian love had its full scope!

The pastor would labor with the most earnest, indefatigable, and unselfish zeal
for the eternal welfare of the flock; and make it evident that compassion for
souls, and not filthy lucre—was the impulse of all his conduct. Affection would
beam in his eyes, and breathe in his spirit, while "the law of kindness" would
dwell on his lips.

He would preside over the people in the meekness of wisdom; and, instead of
proudly lording it over God’s heritage, he would rule them in love.

Over all his talents, however brilliant, he would put the ’garment of humility’.
And, with respect to all his success, however great, he would speak in the
language of modesty. He would neither envy his more gifted or successful
brethren, nor proudly vaunt over his inferiors.

To all under his pastoral care, even the most illiterate and poor, he would
conduct himself with the humility and love of true benevolence. He would labor
to correct their errors, whether doctrinal or practical; and have no greater joy
than to see them walking in the truth!

"Be an example to all believers in what you teach, in the way you live, in your
love, your faith, and your purity." 1 Timothy 4:12

The meek and gentle and passive virtues

The meek and gentle and passive virtues of the gospel, are generally looked upon
with disesteem, and treated with contempt by the world. Is . . . poverty of
spirit, humility, self-abasement, the forgiveness of insults, patience under
provocation,—admired, applauded, imitated? Quite the contrary!

The men who would practice these Christian graces, must make up their minds to
endure the world’s scorn, and to be treated as poor weak-spirited creatures. And
yet this is the spirit of true piety—for this is the disposition of Jesus!

When Jesus Christ came into the world, He found it full of the notion that human
glory consisted in ambition, pride, and revenge. Hence He took particular pains
to correct this notion, giving, in His sermon on the mount, a delineation the
very opposite of this. Indeed, the design of that sermon was to rectify the
mistakes then universally prevalent on the subject of true piety and of
happiness; and to teach the world that His disciples were to be pre-eminently
distinguished by . . .humility, penitence, meekness, purity, peaceableness,
forgiveness, thirsting after righteousness.

These are the qualities of a true Christian, and everyone who bears the
character, must sedulously cultivate its appropriate dispositions, and be
willing to bear the ridicule to which they will expose him. Bearing their scorn,
he will wait with patience for that world where humility and meekness will be
honored and rewarded—and love, their parent disposition, be crowned with glory!

The flaming scimitar of the Sultan

MOHAMMEDANISM

This system of imposture, abounding as it does with minute and ridiculous
ceremonies, and a slavish regard to absurd ritual observances; enforces, by the
authority of its founder, the most ferocious and blood-thirsty hatred to all who
do not receive it with implicit faith.

Wars against all other religions are not only enjoined in many passages of the
Koran—but are declared to be in a high degree ’meritorious’ in the sight of
Allah.

How completely Islamism has filled its votaries with the most ferocious bigotry
and the most merciless intolerance, is known by universal testimony. They
everywhere pour insulting contempt upon all who are not Muslims, and feel a
savage delight in adding cruelty to insult.

The spirit of the system is everywhere visible in the absolute despotism of the
governments of those countries in which it prevails. Where Islam is found, the
arts and the sciences do not flourish, and liberty withers in its shade. The
flaming scimitar of the Sultan is its patron and defense. It was propagated by
the sword, and it is essentially and unalterably cruel.

Such is Islamism—a curse to the world, and the reverse of all that is holy and
beneficent.

A very common supposition

It is a very common supposition that it is an easy thing to be a Christian. And
if to be a Christian were nothing more than . . .going to a place of worship,
indulging in pious emotions, subscribing to religious institutions, and
professing certain religious opinions, —the supposition would be correct—for
nothing is more easy than all this!

But if the spirit of true piety is . . . poverty of spirit, humility,
self-abasement, forgiveness of insults, patience under provocation, penitence,
meekness, purity, peaceableness, thirsting after righteousness, —then must it be
obvious to everyone who knows his own heart, that to be a true Christian is the
most difficult thing in the world!

One gracious purpose of mercy!

"And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those
who love Him, and are called according to His purpose for them." Romans 8:28

Providence is God’s government of the universe.

Providence is that mighty scheme . . .which commenced before time was born;
which embraces the annals of other worlds besides ours; which includes the
history of angels, men, and devils.

Providence comprises the whole range of events which have taken place from the
formation of the first creature, to the last moment of time—with all the
tendencies, reasons, connections, and results of things.

Providence encompasses the separate existence of each individual, with the
continuation and influence of the whole, in one harmonious scheme.

We are puzzled at almost every step, at the deep, unfathomable mysteries of
Providence!

How often is Jehovah, in His dealings with us, a God who hides Himself! How
often does He wrap Himself in clouds, and pursue His path upon the waters, where
we can neither see His goings, nor trace His footsteps! How many of His
dispensations are inexplicable, and of His judgments how many are unfathomable
by the short line of our reason!

But whatever we don’t know now, we shall know hereafter. The crooked will be
made straight, the clouds of darkness will be scattered, and all His conduct
towards us placed in the broad day-light of eternity.

We shall see how all the varying, and numerous, and seemingly opposite events of
our history, were combined into one gracious purpose of mercy, which was most
perfectly wise in all its combinations.

Delightful, most delightful, will it be to retrace our winding and often gloomy
course, and discern at each change and turning, the reason of the occurrence and
the wisdom of God. Delightful will it be to discern the influence which all our
temporal circumstances—all our disappointments, losses, and perplexities—had
upon our permanent and celestial happiness. How much of divine wisdom, power,
goodness, and faithfulness, will our short and simple history present, and what
rapturous fervor will the discovery give to the song of praise which we shall
utter before the throne of God and the Lamb! The whole Bible, condensed into a
single term!

I heard the sound of a vast crowd in heaven shouting, "Hallelujah! Salvation is
from our God!" Revelation 19:1

Salvation! What a word! And what a blessing!

One word—but containing millions of ideas!

It is the whole Bible, condensed into a single term!

God’s eternal councils; Christ’s redeeming work; the Spirit’s sanctifying power;
all the riches of divine grace; all the blessings of eternal glory, are in
substance comprehended in those few syllables!

That one word is a boundless, fathomless ocean of blessedness—it passes
knowledge!

All that preachers have ever said; all that authors have ever written; all that
Christians have ever felt, imagined, hoped for, leave its full meaning yet to be
explained.

It can be comprehended only in heaven!

It can be developed only in eternity!

I heard the sound of a vast crowd in heaven shouting, "Hallelujah! Salvation is
from our God!" Revelation 19:1

Satan’s Vicar

The three great works of the devil are . . .Idolatry, Mohammedanism, and Popery.

The Mohammedan power, symbolized in the book of the Apocalypse by the "false
Prophet," is, with the Papal Beast, to be cast into the lake which burns with
brimstone and fire.

We are aware of the dreadful nature of Popery. We regard Popery as the
masterpiece of Satanic deceit and malice—his richest trophy, and his proudest
triumph. The Pope is more Satan’s Vicar, than that of Christ, upon earth. And
the Vatican his chosen seat of dominion among men.

Idolatry was a prominent Satanic invention. Mohammedanism was a mighty stretch
of diabolical craft. But Popery transcends both! The other two were devices
outside the pale of Christianity —Popery is within it. They opposed
Christianity—Popery corrupts it. They try to destroy it—Popery goes far to make
it destroy itself! The rotten plank!

Not everyone who says to Me, ’Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but
only he who does the will of My Father who is in heaven. Many will say to Me on
that day, ’Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name drive
out demons and perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ’I never
knew you. Away from Me, you evildoers!’ Matthew 7:21-23.

These dreadful words should sound through the whole church with the solemnity
and impressiveness of an alarm bell. What a salutary fear and trembling they
should awaken! To what a close and anxious examination they should lead!

Mistaken professors are going by myriads to the bottomless pit! Myriads and
myriads are walking to eternity over the rotten plank of a ’formal and insincere
profession’, which will break beneath their feet and let them fall into the
burning gulf below!

I will never cease to sound the note of warning to these deluded professors. For
not only is it a dreadful thing to go down to the pit with a lying profession,
but a possible thing! Not only is it a possible case, but a common one! "MANY
will say to Me on that day!"

Distress in heaven?

Will it cause distress in heaven, to know that our unsaved beloved friends and
relatives are forever lost?

The only way of solving this difficulty, is to realize that a perfect knowledge
of God, and of the wisdom and justice of all His designs and operations, will
constitute a chief part of the happiness of heaven. We shall be . . .so
convinced of the equity of His dealings towards the wicked, so divested of all
the weakness of ’human sentimentalism’, so absorbed in the love of what is right
and just, that the absence of our loved ones from the world of glory, will cause
no interruption of our heavenly bliss!

This, I acknowledge, is now hard to conceive. The day shall reveal it. "Now we
know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect
disappears." 1 Corinthians 13:9-10

After this I heard what sounded like the roar of a great multitude in heaven
shouting: "Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for true
and just are His judgments!" And again they shouted: "Hallelujah! The smoke from
her goes up for ever and ever!" Revelation 19:1-3.

The design of Christ’s work

"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have
passed away. Behold, all things have become new." (2 Corinthians 5:17)

The design of Christ’s work is not merely to deliver from hell, but also from
sin. The salvation of Christ is designed to make you a new creature, and to
restore the image of God to your soul.

All true Christians . . .love God, hate sin, feel Christ precious, give
themselves to prayer, live holily.

Like a concealed worm at the root of a flower

It may be that your hindrances to a more rapid growth in grace, arise from some
specific cause, some sin indulged, some corruption cherished. Is there not some
sacrifice which you are unwilling to make, or something which you are unwilling
to surrender? You must give up the forbidden thing, or your growth in grace is
impossible! That one sin will, like a concealed worm at the root of a flower—eat
out the very life of your piety, and cause it to droop, wither, and decay.

A misspent life

Time, with ceaseless flow rolls onward, and is ever bearing you on its
resistless stream—to the boundless ocean of eternity. Yes, to eternity!

A misspent life can never be spent over again! A fault committed in reference to
the ’chief end of existence’ can never be rectified. It is a mistake on which
death sets the seal of eternity—a mistake which will require everlasting ages to
understand and deplore it!

The chief object of life must be something important. A rational creature could
not be justified in setting up a mere trifle as the end and purpose of
existence. It marks a base and abject state of mind, or at any rate, great
childishness of taste—to allow one’s thoughts, feelings and aspirations, to be
attracted, as to their center—to a mere triviality.

God has given to man noble faculties—and to see them all devoted to some mere
petty trifle, as their supreme aim—is a sad and a humiliating spectacle.

Who are they, and from where did they come?

After these things I looked, and behold, a great multitude, which no man could
number, out of every nation and of all tribes, peoples, and languages, standing
before the throne and before the Lamb, dressed in white robes, with palm
branches in their hands. They cried with a loud voice, saying, "Salvation be to
our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!" Revelation 7:1-17

Who are they that send forth such strains? Who are they, and from where did they
come? "These are those who came out of the great tribulation. They washed their
robes, and made them white in the Lamb’s blood. Therefore they are before the
throne of God, they serve Him day and night in His temple. He who sits on the
throne will shelter them with His presence. They will never be hungry, neither
thirsty any more; neither will the sun beat on them, nor any heat; for the Lamb
who is in the midst of the throne shepherds them, and leads them to springs of
waters of life. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."

They were once upon earth; once men of like passions with yourself. There is not
a burden that oppresses your heart, but oppressed theirs. There is not a fear
that agitates your mind, but agitated theirs. There is not a temptation that
assails you, but assailed them. There is not an obstacle that terrifies you, but
terrified them. They were once as ignorant, as weak, as sinful, as timid, as
discouraged, as you are now. There is not a sorrow, a perplexity, or a danger
with which you are painfully familiar—but they passed through before you.

But there they are in heaven, more than conquerors over all these things,
through Him who loved them. He who saved them has engaged to save you; nor is
His ear heavy, nor His arm shortened. "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so
great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which
clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,
looking to Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that
was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the
right hand of the throne of God."

What will He do with the lambs?

"He will feed His flock like a shepherd. He will gather the lambs in His arm,
and carry them in His bosom." (Isaiah 40:11)

It is said of our Divine Redeemer, "He will feed His flock like a shepherd." And
in His flock there are lambs which can neither travel fast nor far. And what
will He do with the lambs? "He will gather the lambs in His arm, and carry them
in His bosom." He will not carry them on His shoulder—the emblem of strength;
but in His bosom—the image of tender love.

Weak grace is real grace, and is in connection with the infinite source in
Christ’s fullness.

A new creation

"Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old things have
passed away. Behold, all things have become new!" (2 Corinthians 5:17)

There must be a Divine alteration of disposition. Our . . .views and tastes,
pains and pleasures, hopes and fears, desires and pursuits, must be changed!

We must be brought to love God supremely, for His holiness and justice—as well
as for His mercy and love; to delight in Him for his transcendent glory —as well
as for His rich grace.

We must have a perception of the beauties of holiness, —and love Divine things
for their own excellence.

We must mourn for sin, and hate it for its own evil nature—as well as its
dreadful punishment.

We must feel delight in the salvation of Christ, not only because it delivers us
from hell—but makes us like God, and all this in a way which honors and
glorifies Jehovah.

We must be made partakers of true humility and universal love, and feel
ourselves brought to be of one mind with God, in willing and delighting in the
happiness of others.

We must be brought to feel an identity of heart with God’s cause, and to regard
it as our honor and happiness to do anything to promote the glory of Christ in
the salvation of sinners.

We must feel a longing desire, a hungering and thirsting after holiness—as well
as come to a determination to put away all sins, however gainful or pleasant.

We must have a tender conscience, that shrinks from and watches against little
sins, secret faults, and sins of neglect and omission—as well as great and
scandalous offences.

We must love the people of God, for God’s sake, because they belong to Him and
are like Him.

We must practice the self-denying duty of mortification of sin—as well as engage
in the pleasing exercises of religion.

Nothing less than such a view of Christ in His glorious mediatorial character,
and such a dependence by faith upon His blood and righteousness for salvation—as
changes the whole heart, and temper, and conduct, and throws the world as it
were into the background, and makes glory hereafter, and holiness now, the
supreme concern—is saving religion.

The great storehouse of iniquity!

"From the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, sexual immoralities,
thefts, false testimonies, blasphemies. These are the things that defile a man."
Matthew 15:19-20

The heart is the polluted fountain from whence all the muddy streams of evil
conduct flow! The heart is the great storehouse of iniquity! Men sometimes make
excuse for their evil deeds, by saying, that they have good hearts at the
bottom. This, however, is an awful mistake, for every man’s heart, not excepting
the most wicked, is really worse than his conduct!

Men think little of sin—but does God?

What turned Adam and Eve out of paradise? Sin!

What drowned the old world in the flood? Sin!

What brought disease, accidents, toil, care, war, pestilence, and famine into
the world? Sin!

What has converted the world into one great burying-place of its inhabitants?
Sin!

What lights the flames of hell? Sin!

What crucified the Lord of life and glory? Sin!

What then must sin be? Who but God, and what but His infinite mind—can conceive
of its evil nature?


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  CHAPTER 94: 07.04.     VOLUME 4 CONT'D
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Is he a brute? Is he a maniac?

"What will it benefit a man, if he gains the whole world yet loses his soul? Or
what will a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matthew 16:26)

Consider what the loss of the soul includes. It is the loss of everything dear
to man as an immortal creature. It is the loss of Heaven, with all its honors,
felicities, and glories. It is the loss of everything that can contribute to our
eternal happiness.

The loss of the soul includes in it all that is contained in that dreadful word,
Hell. Hell is the eternal endurance of the wrath of God. It is the coming down
of the curse of the Almighty upon the soul; or rather, it is the falling of the
soul into that curse, as into a lake which burns with fire and brimstone.

All the tears that ever have been or ever will be shed on the face of the earth;
all the groans that ever have been or ever will be uttered; all the anguish that
ever has been or ever will be endured by all the inhabitants of the world,
through all the ages of time—do not make up an equal amount of misery to that
which is included in the loss of one human soul!

Consider that the eternal loss of the soul is not a rare, but a very common
occurrence. The loss of the soul is so tremendous a catastrophe, that if it
happened only once in a year, or once in a century, so as to render it barely
possible that it should happen to you—it would be reckless carelessness not to
feel some solicitude about the matter! How much more, then, when, alas! it is an
every-day calamity! So far from its being a rare thing for men to go to hell—it
is a much rarer thing for them to go to heaven! Our Lord tells us, that the
’road to destruction’ is thronged, while the ’way to life’ is traveled by few.
Hell opens its mouth wide and swallows up multitudes in perdition! How alarming
is the idea, and how probable the fact—that you may be among this number! Some
who read these pages will very likely spend their eternity in hell.

Concern, then, deep concern about the salvation of your soul, is the most
reasonable thing in the world! Can that man have a soul, or know that he has
one, who is careless about its eternal happiness? Is he a man—or is he a brute?
Is he a rational being—or is he a maniac? Ever walking on the edge of the
precipice that hangs over the bottomless pit—and not concerned about salvation!
Oh, fatal, awful, destructive indifference!

Look into the bottomless pit—can you be too anxious to escape its torments? Look
into heaven—can you be too anxious to obtain its glories? Look into eternity—can
you be too anxious to secure immortal life?

What a bauble!

"The unsearchable riches of Christ!" Ephesians 3:8

How poor and trifling are all those objects which so much engross the time and
attention of the great bulk of mankind!

What a bauble is wealth, compared with the unsearchable riches of Christ!

How insignificant is the honor which comes from man, compared with the honor
which comes from God!

And how contemptible the pleasures of sin, which are but for a season—those
short-lived enjoyments for which men barter their souls and eternal salvation!

"The world and everything in it that people desire is passing away; but those
who do the will of God live forever." (1 John 2:17)

Continually dropping into eternal burnings!

What deep pity has been felt, and properly felt, for the population of those
towns in which the ravages of the pestilence, or natural disaster, have been
unusually extensive!

But oh, Christians! think of the more awful ravages of the plague of sin—which
is sweeping crowds of immortal souls from your own neighborhood into everlasting
misery! There are thousands of immortal creatures perishing in sin at your very
doors! Souls are continually going down to the bottomless pit, from the houses
on your right hand and your left! Men and women and their families are
continually dropping into eternal burnings, almost before your eyes! And will
you not go to their houses, and entreat them to think of their soul’s eternal
welfare?

"As He saw the crowds, His heart was filled with pity for them." (Matthew 9:36)

"And when He drew near and saw the city, He wept over it." (Luke 19:41)

"Brothers, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for them is that they may be
saved." (Romans 10:1) "I have become all things to all people, so that I may by
all means save some." (1 Corinthians 9:22) The rage of the present day

If we would be revived in piety, we must resist by faith the encroaching
influence of the WORLD, and the engrossing power of seen and temporal things.
The address to the church of Laodicea would lead one to suppose that it was a
place of trade—and that trade had produced riches—and riches had produced . . .
pride, worldly-mindedness, love of ease, indifference to divine things, and
spiritual poverty.

Most people in our country appear inordinately intent upon gaining the world. To
be rich, or at least to be comfortable, to be reputable, to be stylish, to be
fashionable, to live in larger houses, and to have finer furniture and more
earthly things than others—seems to be the supreme concern of most! They must,
whether they can afford it or not, vie with their neighbors in all their habits.
This seems to be the rage of the present day—and the church of God is, in a
measure, carried away by the delusion.

Many seem almost without knowing it, to be possessed by a grasping at things
beyond their reach, and an ambitious aspiring at some undefinable point of
worldly elevation. All their time, all their attention, is absorbed—and all the
vigor of their spirits is exhausted—in this panting race after the world’s
possessions and comforts!

It is evident that . . .until this disposition be more subdued than it is, until
our moderation be more known to all men, until we have lowered our estimate of
the importance of wealth, until we have ceased thus to mind earthly things,
until we have gained a greater victory over the world, or are anxious to gain
it—our piety cannot be revived. It is like seed growing amidst thorns—and though
a fertile shower and a warmer sun should cause it to spring afresh during a more
than ordinarily genial season—yet it is still among thorns, which will be sure
to choke the grain!

I am afraid that we have not . . .that simplicity of taste, that contentment,
that moral courage to be indifferent to the world’s opinions, that sobriety of
mind, that comparative unconcernedness about finery and splendor—which are
necessary to prepare us for a high state of piety.

Let us, then, consider this matter. Let us attend to the apostolic admonition,
"Be not conformed to this world—but be transformed by the renewing of your
mind."

The spirit of the world, and the spirit of piety, cannot dwell together in the
same bosom. "You cannot serve God and Mammon." "If any man loves the world, the
love of the Father is not in him." "Are you seeking great things for yourself?
Seek them not!" "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth," so much as
treasures in heaven. Remember that "one thing is needful!" "Take heed, and
beware of covetousness, for a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of
the things that he has."

But if we will be rich, if we will be anxious about many things, if we will be
full of worldly ambition, and earthly mindedness and covetousness—then we cannot
experience much revival in piety—and need not add hypocrisy to lukewarmness! For
very little better than a hypocrite, is the man who prays for the effusions of
the Holy Spirit—and yet will not moderate his extreme concern after worldly
wealth.

We must also put away our worldly-mindedness, our ambition, our excessive
concern to be conformed, as far as possible, to the showy, expensive, and
luxurious habits of the people of this world. We must restrain our taste for
voluptuous ease, extravagance and self-indulgence. We must give up our concern
to be accounted fashionable. An inundation of worldliness

"Do not love the world or the things that belong to the world. If anyone loves
the world, love for the Father is not in him. Because everything that belongs to
the world—the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride in one’s
lifestyle—is not from the Father, but is from the world. And the world with its
lust is passing away, but the one who does God’s will remains forever." (1 John
2:15-17)

What an unearthly spirit, what an impress of eternity, what a temper of heaven
should there be in us! Professing to believe all this, to hope for all this, to
love all this, to yield up ourselves to all this—ought we not to be a people
really, practically differing from the people of the world—seen, known and
acknowledged to be different . . .in our prevailing spirit, in our pleasures, in
our tastes, in our feelings and conduct in regard to wealth, in the maxims which
govern us?

Ought we not to appear to be the conquerors, and not the captives, of the world?
But is it so? Is not the very opposite to all this, the present characteristic
of many professors? Has not an inundation of worldliness flowed in upon the
church?

In the habits of some professing Christians, there is a too prevailing taste for
an expensive, showy style of living; an undue ambition to be in vogue; an
excessive sensitiveness about fashion, refinement, needless show, extravagance,
luxury and appearance. This is seen in their feverish concern to live in large
houses, and possess elegant furniture.

Fashion is the goddess to whose shrine too many bow with ardent devotion. Just
look at the conduct of many professors of religion. Are they not almost as
completely swallowed up in the eagerness to be rich, as the openly ungodly?

Christians must be upon their guard, lest they become too eager for the lust of
the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride in one’s lifestyle. A consistent
Christian!

The following duties are common to all Christians: unreserved, cheerful,
perpetual devotedness to Christ, entire and constant dependence on the Holy
Spirit, a life of faith, spirituality of mind, separation from the world,
heavenly mindedness, supreme regard to eternity, universal and high toned
morality, eminent social excellence in all the relative duties of life, all the
gentle and passive virtues.

O, what a character is that of a consistent Christian!

How holy, how heavenly, how humble, how gentle, how benevolent, how just, how
devout, how useful, how happy!! Be holy in every aspect of your life

"As the One who called you is holy, you also are to be holy in every aspect of
your life; for it is written—Be holy, because I am holy." (1 Peter 1:15-16)

Let him turn away from all the ’conventional piety’ of the day, and study with
devout attention what the Scriptures teach of the true nature of genuine piety.

Let him, in a season of closet devotion, examine his own piety, and compare it
with the Scriptural standard.

Let him, upon discovering his great and numerous shortcomings, humble and abase
himself before God, in a spirit of true contrition.

Let him reject all excuses which his own deceitful heart, and lukewarm,
worldly-minded Christians will be ever ready to suggest. He must be thoroughly
convinced that nothing can, or will, be admitted by God as an apology for a low
state of personal piety.

Let him intensely desire to be raised from his low state into a more exalted
state of spirituality, devoted zeal and heavenly-mindedness. Let him set himself
most vigorously to the work of mortifying sin, and crucifying the flesh.

Let him redouble his diligence in attending the means of grace, and especially
let him give himself to reading the Scriptures, meditation and prayer.

Let him add a season of humiliation and supplication, to obtain a new and
copious effusion of the Holy Spirit. Without the influence of the Spirit, we are
only building a Babel to proclaim our folly, or a mausoleum to entomb our
fleshly endeavors.

Let him cultivate a new and more delicate sensibility of conscience, in
reference to all matters of offense, both towards God and man.

Let him give himself to Christian vigilance, watching always against sin.

Let him, in short, intelligently, resolutely, and unalterably, make up his mind
to enter upon a new course of personal godliness; so new that his past
attainments shall seem as if they were nothing. There is such a thing as
starting afresh, as forgetting the things that are behind—and so must it be with
him who would be really in earnest. He will wake up from his slumbering, dreamy
profession, saying, "I have slept too long and too much! I must now throw off
the spirit of sloth, and give all diligence to make my calling and election
sure."

Propensity for amusements and entertainments

A great hindrance to earnest piety, is the taste for amusement, which
characterizes the present day.

Every age has had its sources of pleasure, and its means and methods of
diversion—to relieve the mind from the fatigue and oppression of the more
serious occupations of life. The human mind cannot be kept always upon the
stretch, nor can the heart sustain, without occasional relief, its burden of
care. I would not rob the believer of his few brief holidays, nor condemn as
irrational or unchristian, his occasional oblivion of worldly vexations amidst
the beauties of nature, or the pleasures of the social circle. There is a time
to laugh—as well as to weep.

Still, it may be seriously questioned, whether among professing Christians, the
propensity for amusements and entertainments has not been growing too fast, and
ripened into something like a passion for worldly pleasures.

The very craving after diversion and amusement, which there is in some people,
shows a morbid state of the soul. It might be supposed, judging from the
representations of true religion which we find in the word of God, and from the
general principles contained in it—that a Christian has rendered unnecessary,
all such sources of enjoyment, which worldly people resort to.

To hear all this talk, then, about the necessity of entertainment; and the
impossibility of relieving the exhaustion of labor, and the monotony of life,
without parties, games, and diversions—sounds very like a growing weariness of
the yoke of Christ!

This growing desire after amusement marks a low state of piety. The godly
Christian is very well content to forego many things in which the people of the
world see no harm.


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  CHAPTER 95: 07.05.     VOLUME 5
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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

You will die this year!

This is what the Lord says: "I am going to remove you from the face of the
earth. You will die this year!" Jeremiah 28:16

This may be the case with any one of the readers of the present address, and
therefore every one of them should seriously reflect upon such a possibility.

This year you may die—for you must die some time—and that time may as likely
come this year as any other.

This year you may die—because you have no revelation from God that you shall
not.

This year you may die—because you are ever and everywhere exposed to the causes
that take away life.

This year you may die—because life is the most uncertain thing in the world, and
you have not the assurance of a single moment beyond the present. This year you
may die—for it is all but certain that many of the readers of this address will
die this year—and why not you?

This year you may die, although there is now no indication of approaching death;
for many during the past year have been cut off, and many during the present
year will die, who may now seem very likely to live—and why not you?

How many, then, are the probabilities that before next new year’s day, your
place will be vacant in the family, at the scene of your daily occupation, and
in the house of God! Ought not this to induce a habit of solemn, pensive,
devout, practical, profitable, reflection. Bring home the thought. Take up the
supposition, and say, "Yes, it is possible, by no means improbable, that I may
die—this year!"

Are you really prepared for your latter end, by being a partaker of genuine
faith, the new birth, a holy life, and a heavenly mind? Or are you a mere
nominal professor, having a name to live, while you are dead? Do you recognize
in yourselves, and do others see in you, the marks of a state of grace? Put the
question to your own hearts, ask yourselves, "What am I? Am I a spiritual,
heavenly, humble servant of God? Am I really crucified with Christ, dead to the
world, ripening for glory? Is there anything heavenly about me? Is my temper
sanctified, my walk consistent?"

Is your soul in that state in which you would desire it to be found when death
strikes? Are you, in your devotional habits, your temper, your general behavior,
as you should be—with eternity so near? Would you desire to die—just as you are
now?

How many false professors will be unmasked this year, and appear with
astonishment and horror, as self-deceivers, formalists, and hypocrites! How many
in reply to the plea, "Lord, Lord, I ate and drank in your presence"—will hear
the dreadful response, "Depart from me, I never knew you!" and thus find there
is a way to the bottomless pit—from the fellowship of the church! In whatever
state you die this year—that you will be forever! The seal of eternal destiny
will be put upon you! Your last words in time, and your first in eternity, might
be, "I must be what I am—forever!"

The grand secret is about to be revealed, whether you are a child of God—or a
child of the devil! That next moment after death—which imagination in vain
attempts to paint, is to arrive—and, waking up in eternity, you will shout with
rapture, "I am in heaven!"—or utter with a shriek of despair, and surprise, the
dreadful question, "What! Am I in hell forever!"

Ever walking on the precipice of eternity!

Reader! Did you ever, in serious moments, and in a serious manner, ask such
questions as these:

What am I?

Where did I come from?

Who sent me here?

What is my business in this world?

What is to become of me when I die, and leave this present world?

Does not reason press such inquiries on your attention? You find yourself in
existence, possessing a rational soul; you know you cannot remain here long, and
must soon go and lie down in the grave with your forefathers. But does your
history end there? Is there no world beyond the tomb? There is! You are not only
mortal, but immortal.

Immortality! What a word! What a thing! Did you ever ponder the idea? A
deathless creature—with an everlasting existence! Such is your soul. You are
ever walking on the precipice of eternity—and any moment you may fall over it!

Eternal duration alone, apart from the consideration whether it is to be spent
in torment or in bliss—is a solemn idea. You are to live somewhere—forever!
Should this matter be allowed to lie forgotten among the thousand unconsidered
subjects? Should it be treated with indifference, excite no reflection, produce
no concern? Ought you not to be concerned? Going on step by step to
eternity—should you not pause, ponder, and say, "Where am I going?"

For a person to realize that he is immortal, and yet to care nothing about where
he is going to spend eternity, is the most monstrous inconsistency in the
universe!

Can any man know . . .how holy God is, how evil a thing sin is, how great a
blessing salvation is, how glorious heaven is, how dreadful hell is, how solemn
eternity is, and not not be concerned about his eternal soul?

Astounding spectacle! A rational creature, anxious about a thousand things, yet
not concerned about the eternal soul! Agitated, perplexed, inquisitive about
little matters of mere passing interest, which the next day will be forgotten;
and yet neglecting that great subject, which swallows them all up, as the ocean
does the drops of rain that fall upon it. Your health, your property, your
prospects, your friends, anything, everything, but your soul, and your soul’s
salvation, seizes and carries you away!

Did you ever weigh the import of that most awful of all words—hell?

Death is a dreadful monosyllable! From the cold touch of that ’last enemy’ all
rational beings recoil with horror.

But death is only as the dark, heavy, iron-covered door of the prison, which
opens to, while it conceals, the sights and sounds of the dungeon. Oh that first
moment after death! what disclosures, what scenes, what feelings come with that
moment! That moment must come—and it may come soon!

Immorality, whether public or private, if it spreads through society, and
especially through the rising generation, will be a canker to all that is great,
glorious, and free, in this noble nation; and England’s flag, floating so
loftily and proudly, will be dragged down into the mud, and trampled underfoot
by a swinish generation!

Be thankful, be humble, be consistent, be watchful. There is no logic so
convincing, no rhetoric so persuasive, as the power of uniform and conspicuous
excellence. Add to the substance of your moral worth, the brightest polish of an
amiable disposition, and all the kindnesses of life. Be courteous, generous,
benevolent, cheerful, active and useful.

One life to spend

"This one thing I do. Forgetting the things which are behind, and stretching
forward to the things which are before, I press on toward the goal for the prize
of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." (Php 3:13-14)

There are many secondary and subordinate ends of life, but there can be only one
that is supreme. The salvation of the immortal soul, and a preparation for
heaven, form the great end of man’s life upon earth.

Man has but one life to spend, and he should be careful, anxiously careful, yes
almost painfully careful, not to throw it away upon an undeserving object. Think
of his coming to the close of his brief and troubled sojourn in this world with
the melancholy confession, "Life with me has been a lost adventure!" We would
help you to guard against this catastrophe, and assist you so to select your
object, and lay your plan, that after a prosperous, happy, and useful life, even
death itself—instead of being the wreck of your hopes, shall prove the
consummation of your hopes, and be your eternal gain.

Our one thing, our chief end of life, is the same as Paul’s, the pursuit of
glory, honor, immortality; our hope is the possession of eternal life. There it
is before you in all its simplicity, and, we may add, in all its sublimity.

True piety

True piety will be the guide of our youth, the comfort of our manhood, and the
staff of our old age. If we succeed in life, it will preserve us from the snares
of prosperity. And if we fail, it will be our solace in adversity. Should we be
exposed to the temptations of bad company, piety will be our shield; or, if we
should dwell much alone, it will be the comforter of our solitude. Piety will
guide us in the choice of a companion for life, sweeten the cup of marital
happiness, and survive the severance of every earthly tie. It will refresh us
with its cooling shade amidst the heat and burden of life’s busy day, be the
evening star of our declining years, and our lamp in the dark valley of the
shadow of death, and then rise with us as our eternal portion in the realms of
immortality.

True piety will guard you from the snares to which youth are ever and everywhere
exposed. It will . . .comfort you in sorrow, cheer you in solitude, guide you in
perplexity.

The low state of piety among professors

Ah, my friend, let me tell you in the beginning of your career, that you cannot
expect too little from man—nor too much from God.

Many are discouraged by witnessing the low state of piety among professors. They
hear little from the lips of many Christian professors, but, "What shall we eat
and drink? How shall we be adorn ourselves? What is the news of the day?"

They see so much worldly-mindedness, so much imperfection of temper, so many
things unworthy of the Christian character, that they can scarcely believe there
is reality in religion, and are sometimes ready to give it all up as a mere
name. Nay, from some of these very professors they receive plain hints that they
are too concerned, too precise, too earnest and urgent.

How far people may go

It is amazing, how far people may go, and not be really converted. They may have
many and deep religious impressions, many and strong convictions; they may have
much knowledge of their sinful state, and a heavy and burdensome sense of their
guilt; they may look back upon their past lives and conduct with much remorse;
they may be sorry for their sins; and may desire to be saved from the
consequences of them, being much alarmed at the prospect of the torments of
hell.

Was not Judas convinced of sin, and did not he weep bitterly and confess his
sin, and was not he filled with remorse? Was not Cain convinced of sin? I have
known many people, who at one time appeared to be more deeply impressed with a
sense of sin, and to have stronger convictions and remorse, than many who were
truly converted—and yet they went back again to the world and sin. Nor is a
detestation of sin always a true sign of conversion. Unconverted people may even
wish to be delivered from the fetters of those corrupt lusts, which have long
held them fast; for there are few notorious sinners, who do not frequently hate
their sins, and wish and purpose to reform. Yes, people may sometimes desire to
be delivered from all sin; at least they may desire it in a certain way, because
they think that it is necessary in order to be saved from hell.

And as conviction of sin may exist without conversion, so may religious joy. The
stony ground hearers "heard the word, and with joy received it," and yet they
had "no root in themselves, and endured only for a while." The Galatians had
great blessedness at one time, which the apostle was afraid had come to nothing.
Multitudes rejoiced in Christ when he made His entrance into Jerusalem, who
afterwards became His enemies. Many take great pleasure in hearing sermons, and
going to prayer-meetings, and singing hymns, and frequenting church meetings,
who are not truly born of the Spirit. So also do many people leave off sinful
actions, and give up many wicked practices, and seem to be quite altered for a
time, and yet, by their subsequent history, show that they are not converted.

There may be considerable zeal for the outward concerns of religion, as we see
in Jehu, without any right state of mind towards God. Many have had great
confidence of the reality of their conversion; they have had dreams and
spiritual impressions, as they suppose—and yet too plainly proved, by their
after-conduct, that they were under an awful delusion. But it would be almost
endless to point out the various ways in which men deceive themselves, as to
their state. Millions who have been somewhat, yes, much concerned about
religion, have never been born again of the Spirit. Perhaps as many are lost by
self-deception, as by any other means. Hell resounds with the groans and
lamentations of souls which perished through the power of deceived hearts!

Then hell itself is full of penitents

Repentance is more, much more than ’mere sorrow for sin’. True sorrow for sin is
a part, and only a part, of repentance. If mere sorrow comprised the whole of
repentance, then Cain, Ahab, and Judas all repented! Then hell itself is full of
penitents, for there is weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth forever. Many,
very many, grieve for their sins, who never repent of them. Men may grieve for
the consequences of their sins, without mourning for the sins themselves.

Repentance signifies an entire change of a man’s views, disposition, and
conduct, with respect to sin.

The author of repentance is the Holy Spirit—it is the effect of Divine grace
working in the heart of man.

No man knows what sin is, and how sinful he is, who does not clearly see that he
has deserved to be cast into "the lake which burns with fire and brimstone."

All sins in one!

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul,
and with all your mind; and you shall love your neighbor as yourself."

Alarming representation! Have you thus loved God, and your neighbor? Confounding
and overwhelming question! What a state of sin have you been living in! Your
whole life has been sin, for you have not loved God! And not to love God, is all
sins in one! Who can think of greater sin than not loving God? To love the
world, to love trifles, to love even sin—and not to love God!

But what is that misery?

When man was created, he was created holy—and consequently happy. He was not
only placed in a paradise which was without sin—but he was blessed with a
paradise within him. His perfect holiness was as much the Eden of his soul, as
the garden which he tilled was the Eden of his bodily senses—it was in the
inward paradise of a holy mind that he walked in communion with God. The ’fall’
cast him out ofthis ’heaven upon earth’ . . . his understanding became darkened,
his heart became corrupted, his will became perverted, his nature became
earthly, sensual, and devilish.

Not only was his conscience laden with guilt, but, as a necessary consequence,
his imagination was full of terror and dread of that holy God, whose voice and
presence formerly imparted nothing but transport to his soul. He became afraid
of God, and unfit for him. His whole soul became the seat of fleshly appetites
and sinful passions.

In his former innocence he had loved God supremely. He had been united to God by
a feeling of dependence and devotedness. But now he was cut off from both these
feelings, and came under the domination of an absorbing and engrossing
selfishness. Such is the sinful nature he has transmitted to all his posterity.
They are . . .not only guilty—but depraved; not only under the wrath of God—but
robbed of His image; not only condemned by God—but alienated from Him.

True it is, that hell will be some place set apart for the wicked, where the
justice of God will consign them to the misery which their sins have deserved.
But what is that misery? An eternal abandonment of them to themselves, with all
their vices in full maturity! Hell is not only the wrath of God suffered, but
that wrath coupled with an eternal endurance of all the tyranny of sin!

Hence, then, the design of the death of Christ is not only to deliver us from
the penalty of sin, but also from the polluting consequences of sin.

One verse in Scripture

"As newborn babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that you may grow
thereby." (1 Peter 2:2)

And as those infants thrive best who are fed from the bosom of their mothers—so
those Christians grow most in grace, who are most devoted to a spiritual perusal
of the Scriptures.

Meditate on what you read. If we would gain knowledge from books, we must not
only see the matters treated of, but steadily ponder them. Nothing but
meditation can enable us to properly understand or feel. In reading the
Scriptures and pious books, we are, or should be, reading for eternity. Our
profiting depends not on the quantity we read, but the quantity we understand.
One verse in Scripture, if understood and meditated upon, will do us more good
than a chapter, or, even a book, read through in haste, and without reflection.

Salvation!

"Let us rejoice and be glad in His salvation." Isaiah 25:9

What a blessing is salvation! A blessing that includes . . .all the riches of
grace; all the greater riches of glory; deliverance from sin, death, and hell;
the possession of pardon, peace, holiness, and heaven!

Salvation is a blessing immense, infinite, everlasting; which occupied the mind
of Deity from eternity, was procured by the Son of God upon the cross, and will
fill eternity with its happiness.

Oh, how little, insignificant, and contemptible is the highest object of human
ambition, to say nothing of the baser matters of men’s desires, compared with
salvation! Riches, rank, fame, and honors, are but as the small dust of the
balance, when compared with the "salvation which is in Christ Jesus with eternal
glory."

"My mouth will tell about Your righteousness and Your salvation all day long,
though I cannot sum them up." Psalms 71:15

"He alone is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I will not be shaken."
Psalms 62:6

Eternity, vast eternity, incomprehensible eternity

Reader! You are an immortal creature, a being born for eternity, a creature that
will never go out of existence. Millions of ages, as numerous as . . .the sands
upon the shore, the drops of the ocean, the leaves of all the forests on the
globe, will not shorten the duration of your existence.

Eternity, vast eternity, incomprehensible eternity, is before you! Every day
brings you nearer to everlasting torments—or felicity. You may die any
moment—and you are as near to heaven or hell as you are to death.

Reader, whoever you are, you will remember the contents of this small treatise,
either with pleasure and gratitude in heaven—or with remorse and despair in
hell!

We need to re-study our Bibles

We need to re-study our Bibles, and learn what real Christianity is—how holy,
how heavenly, how spiritual, how loving, how morally and socially excellent a
matter it is.

What separation from the world, what devoutness, what intense earnestness, what
conscientiousness, what enlarged benevolence, what unselfishness, what zealous
activity, what unearthliness, what seeds of celestial virtue—our profession of
godliness implies.

Having examined this, and obtained an impressive idea of it, let us survey our
own state, and ask if we do not need, and ought not to seek, more of the
prevalence of such a piety as this, which, in fact, is primitive Christianity.

Is our spiritual condition what it ought to be, what it might be, what it must
be—to fulfill our high commission as the salt of the earth and the light of the
world? A Christian, acting up in some tolerable measure to his profession,
walking in the holiness of the Gospel—is the strongest and most emphatic
testimony for God to our dark revolted world, next to that of Christ himself.

I would ask

I would ask, what there is among you . . .of ’living by faith’; of the spiritual
and heavenly mind; of the victory over the world; of devotional habits; of Bible
meditation; of the practice of self-denial; of Christian charity; of the
meekness and gentleness of Christ; of the stamp of immortality; of the
anticipation of eternity; of the patient waiting for the coming of our Savior,
all of which are enjoined in the word of God, and implied in our profession of
Christianity

Do we not see, almost everywhere, instead of these things, a superficial,
secular, and temporizing kind of piety; a piety without any depth of feeling,
any power of principle, or any distinctness of character; a cold, spiritless
orthodoxy, united with a heartless morality; a mere exemption from gross vice
and fashionable amusements; an observance of forms and decencies—but a
lamentable destitution of love, of Christian temper, and tenderness of
conscience?

Enter the social spheres of professing Christians, listen to their conversation,
witness their entertainments, observe their spirit. How frivolous, how worldly,
how different from what might be expected from redeemed sinners, from the heirs
of immortality, from the expectants of everlasting glory!

Follow them home to their domestic circle, and behold their pervading temper—how
irascible, how worldly, how destitute of spirituality! Witness the cold and
lifeless formality—the late, hurried, irregular, and undevout seasons of their
family devotions, together with the shameful neglect of the pious instruction of
their children! Witness the shortness and inconstancy of their times for private
prayer, and think how little communion with God, how little study of the
Scriptures, how little self-improvement, can be carried on during such fragments
of time, snatched from the greedy and all-devouring passion of
earthly-mindedness!

The spirit of prayer is expiring amidst the ashes of its own dead forms, and the
Bible reduced, in many houses of professing Christians, to the degradation of a
mere article of furniture, placed there for show—but not for use.

Who will deny that this is but too correct a representation of modern piety; or
admitting it, deny the need in which our churches stand of a revival?

Ah! are we prepared to say this?

"As the One who called you is holy, you also are to be holy in every aspect of
your life; for it is written—Be holy, because I am holy." (1 Peter 1:15-16)

If we would increase in holiness, we should pray, "O God, let my soul prosper
and be in health, at all events! Improve my personal piety, my Christian
temperament and spirit, though it be at the sacrifice of my temporal comfort.
Supply my deficiencies, mortify my corruptions, increase my spirituality, and
enkindle in my heart the flame of holy love, though it be necessary, in order to
accomplish this purpose, to diminish my worldly ease and enjoyments."

Ah! are we prepared to say this?

A languid and feeble plant

I come now to the state of piety in your own hearts. Is it so lively, so
vigorous, so elevated, as it should be? Consider what our profession amounts to,
what our principles are, what our creed includes.

We believe that we are immortal creatures, going on to eternity, and that we
shall exist through everlasting ages in inconceivable torment or felicity; that
we are sinners by nature and practice against God—and as such, under the
sentence of the divine law, which sentence is eternal death, an everlasting
sense and endurance of the wrath of God; that we have been delivered from our
state of condemnation through the sovereign, rich, and efficacious grace of God,
granted to us through the mediation of Jesus Christ; that we are pardoned, and
in a state of favor with Jehovah; that we are going on to glory, honor,
immortality, and eternal life, and shall dwell forever with Christ and his
saints and angels, in glory everlasting; that we are redeemed by Jesus Christ
and purified from iniquity to be a peculiar people, zealous for good works, and
designed to show forth the praise of God by the beauties of holiness.

Are not these our principles and profession? Think, then, what kind of people
ought we to be, in all holy conversation and godliness; how dead to the world,
caring but little about its profits and losses, its pains and pleasures; how
heavenly in our anticipations and aspirations; how spiritual in our thoughts and
feelings; how devotional in our habits; how self-denying in all our
gratifications; how fond of the Holy Scriptures, and devoted to the perusal of
them; how given to meditation and contemplation, to private prayer and
self-communion; how devoted to communion with God, and how impressed with a
sense of the unutterable, inconceivable love of Christ; how replete with love to
our brethren, and benevolence to the whole family of man!

Should it not be seen by others, as well as felt by ourselves, that we look not
at the things which are seen and temporal—but at the things which are unseen and
eternal? that our eye, our hope, our heart, are upon eternity?

But is this, indeed, our state, or the state of Christians in general? Do they
indeed live the life of that faith, and painful mortification, and habitual
restraint, and aspiring spirituality, and heavenly-mindedness—which are so often
inculcated in the Word of God, as the very essence of vital and experimental
Christianity?

What do we know in this age, when profession is easy and piety generally safe
from persecution. We abstain from immoralities, and public amusements, and from
many private engagements which are the symbols of love to the world—and to these
things we add an attendance upon an evangelical ministry, and the forms of
domestic and private piety—and all this so far is well. But as to the real
culture of the heart; the mortification of the corrupt and earthly affections of
the soul; the deep sense of the love of Christ; the withdrawal of our affections
from the world, to set them on things above; the high communing of our spirits
with God; the blissful anticipation of an eternity to be spent with the Lord
Jesus; the conflicts and the triumphs of the fight of faith—of these things,
alas! we know little but the names, and are ready, in some cases, to wonder what
they mean. Yet are they all continually alluded to in the Scriptures.

I am well convinced that the piety of the present day is a languid and feeble
plant, it has run up to a great height, perhaps, under the influence of a long
season of unclouded sunshine; but it lacks depth and tenacity of root, strength
of stem, and abundance of fruit—and that, were the wintry season and frosty
nights of persecution again to return, it would droop its head, and shed its
leaves, and give full proof of its sickly and delicate constitution.

It is greatly to be feared, that in these times of peace and prosperity in the
church, many have entered her gates, and joined her fellowship—who know nothing
at all of spiritual religion, and whose example and spirit exert a deadening
influence upon others.

A self-indulgent, ease-loving spirit

I now mention, as a second fault—a self-indulgent, ease-loving spirit; an
cowardly, weak disposition which shrinks from those duties, occupations, and
engagements which require a sacrifice of bodily repose and comfort. The words of
our Lord are still the standing-rule of discipleship, "If any man will come
after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." If there
be meaning in words, these must imply that the true Christian spirit is
self-denial. This was not intended to apply exclusively to that time, or to any
age of persecution, or to any peculiar external condition of the Church. It is
the perpetual law of Christ’s kingdom for all ages, all countries, all people.
We can no more be Christians without a spirit of self-denial, than we can be
without repentance and faith, or truthfulness, justice, or chastity. It is a
state of mind and a course of conduct essential to personal godliness. We must
all, in one sense or other, be cross-bearers.

But in what does self-denial consist? Not in the self-imposed austerities of
Catholicism or hermitism; nor in the self-inflicted penances of superstition—nor
in the privation of the sober and moderate enjoyment of the lawful
gratifications of our compound nature. Grace is not at war, any more than
Reason, with the instincts of humanity; the Creator has not implanted these in
our nature to be violently torn up by the Redeemer and Sanctifier. All that
piety does with them, is to keep them in due subjection to itself; not to
eradicate them—but so far to crop their excessive growth as to prevent their
overshading and chilling our virtues. To the wearer of sackcloth, the wallower
in filth, the half-starved abstinent, the recluse of the cell, God says, "Who
has required this at your hand?" This is not self-denial—but self-degradation, a
disgusting caricature of the virtue recommended by our Lord. It is
self-gratification under a hideous form; self-pleasing in a way of self-torture;
the worship of self in a Moloch shape.

Self-denial means the subjection of all the promptings of self-love to the will
of God. It is the surrender of ourselves to God, to do his will and please him
in the way of his commandments, rather than ourselves. In other words, it is to
prefer known and prescribed duty, to selfish gratification. This state of mind
will develop itself in various ways. If anyone has injured us, Christian duty
says, "Freely forgive him." Sinful self says, "Retaliate." The maxim of the
devil says, "Revenge is sweet;" and sinful self affirms the same. Revenge is
self-indulgence—forgiveness, with our corrupt hearts, is self-denial. So also,
in a different case, if we have injured another, reason, piety, conscience, all
say, "Confess your fault." The evil heart says, "No, I cannot thus humble
myself." Self-denial requires confession—self-indulgence resists it.

So again, the whole business of internal sanctification, in our present
imperfect state, is a course of self-denial. We are to "mortify our members," to
"crucify the flesh," to "keep under our body." All this implies and requires
self-denial—for it is a resistance rather than a gratification of our sinful
nature. Indeed, the whole course of the Christian life is one continued habit of
self-denial, or the subjection of our sinful self to our renewed and holy self.

Self-denial requires often the sacrifice of personal and relative gratification
for the benefit of others and the good of Christ’s cause.

Mere catacombs filled with these lifeless forms

"Having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. (2 Timothy 3:5)

Are not the doctrines of the gospel calculated by their nature, and intended by
their design, to produce a spiritual frame of mind? Ah! but how much of dull,
dormant, dead orthodoxy—is there in the bulk of modern professors! What a
discordance between their beliefs and their practice!

Ah, what are some churches—but mere catacombs filled with these lifeless forms
of Christian professors! I am speaking of the bulk of professors, and of them I
do not hesitate for a moment to declare that there is an obvious and lamentable
deficiency of spirituality of mind. Their affections are in a languid and
lukewarm condition.

Sound doctrine, if it is destitute of spirituality and heavenly mindedness—is
but the lifeless statue of godliness.

Oh, professing Christians, without holy and heavenly affections, what is your
religion but a mere name? Attend then to the exhortations of the apostle, and
"set your affections on things which are above, where Christ sits on the right
hand of God." Cultivate a spiritual frame; acquire habits of pious thinking and
feeling. Like the secret source of a spring of water, deep in the earth, yet
continually welling up to the surface, and gushing out in sparkling
ebullitions—let religion be in your soul, an inward source and spring of living
piety, which, by its own force, is perpetually sending forth spiritual thoughts
and heavenly aspirations; so that a stream of devout thought and feeling, deep
and full, is more or less continually flowing through your life.

Better than a ton of gold!

A grain of saving faith is better than a ton of gold, for it secures an
inheritance in all the unsearchable riches of Christ, of grace, and of glory! It
justifies, sanctifies, and eternally saves!

Learn to think less and less of the wealth of this world, and more and more of
the unsearchable riches of Christ!

Lower the estimate which pride and vanity form of the importance of worldly
distinctions.

How dim, how worthless, does everything earthly appear when seen in the sunlight
of the cross!

It is by losing sight of Jesus, by living so far from Him, by forgetting
Him—that we let the world get so much the upper hand of us.

We must meditate more upon the cross. We must dwell more upon Calvary. We must
be more familiar with the crucified One.

"But as for me, I will never boast about anything except the cross of our Lord
Jesus Christ, through whom the world has been crucified to me, and I to the
world." (Galatians 6:14)

Prayer

If there is one thing which is more suited to our condition, and more prompted
by our necessities than any other—it is prayer.

If there is one duty which is more frequently enjoined by the precepts, or more
beautifully enforced by the examples of Scripture, than any other—it is prayer.

If there be one practice as to which the experience of all good men of every
age, every country, and every church, has agreed—it is prayer.

If there be one thing which above all others decisively marks the spirit of
sincere and individual piety—it is prayer.

So that it may be safely affirmed, where the spirit of prayer is low in the soul
of an individual, in a country, an age, or a church—whatever it may have, of
morality, of ceremony, of liberality—the spirit of piety is low also.

Every sincere act of adoration—increases our veneration for God’s glorious
character.

Every confession of sin—deepens our penitence.

Every petition for a favor—cherishes a sense of dependence.

Every intercession for others—expands our philanthropy.

Every acknowledgment of a mercy—inflames our gratitude.

Instead of the church permeating the world with its own spirit—it is receiving
the spirit of the world into itself. Instead of directing, controlling, and
sanctifying the spirit and ways of the age—it is itself directed, controlled,
and contaminated by them.

A dark sign

It will be a dark sign of the approach of an evil day, when our churches in
choosing their pastors shall be guided rather by a regard to talent than to
piety; by a love of eloquence, rather than of the gospel. The great object of
life to many professing Christians, seems to be to become rich. Their chief end
does not appear to be so much to glorify God, and enjoy Him forever—as to obtain
and enjoy the present world. Wealth is the center of their wishes—the invariable
tendency of their desires. Jehovah is the God of their creed, but Mammon is the
God of their hearts! They are devout adorers of the God of wealth.

The way to win the ungodly to piety, is not by showing them that their pleasures
are ours—but that our pleasures are infinitely superior to any which they know!

All their secularities and fashionable follies!

Two consequences result from the reception of unsuitable people to church
fellowship. They not only are confirmed in their false views of their own case;
but by their low state of pious feeling, or total destitution of it, by their
worldly-mindedness and laxity, they corrupt others, and exert a deadening
influence upon the whole church! Their example is a source of corruption to very
many, who are allured by it into all their secularities and fashionable follies.
One family of such worldly and lukewarm professors is often . . .a grief to the
pastor, a lamentation to the spiritual part of the flock, a snare to many of the
less pious, and a reproach to the church at large. Too many of this description
find their way, in these days of easy profession, into all our churches. We need
a deeper sort of piety in our churches, a more realizing sense of . . . the
claims of Christ, the value of the soul, the misery of men without the Gospel,
and the great ends and obligations of the Christian profession!

EXCESSIVE INDULGENCE

Some very good people have erred here; they have taught, entreated, and
prayed—and then wondered that their children did not become truly pious. But
their excessive indulgence, their injudicious fondness, their utter neglect of
all discipline, the relaxation of their authority, until the children have been
taught to consider that they, and not their parents, were the most important
people in the household.

But there is another thing to be observed, and that is the mischief of EXCESSIVE
INDULGENCE. Read the history of Eli, as recorded by the pen of inspiration. The
honors of the priesthood and of the magistracy lighted upon him. He was beloved
and respected by the nation whose affairs he administered, and to all appearance
seemed likely to finish a life of active duty, in the calm repose of an honored
old age. But the evening of his life, at one time so calm and so bright, became
suddenly overcast, and a storm arose which burst in fury upon his head, and
dashed him to the ground by its dreadful thunder bolts. Whence did it arise? Let
the words of the historian declare, "I have told him, said the Lord, that I will
judge his house forever for the iniquity which he knows, because his sons made
themselves vile—and he restrained them not!" Poor old man, who can fail to
sympathize with him under the terror of that dreadful sentence, which crushed
his dearest hopes and beclouded all his prospects—but the sting, the venom of
the sentence, was in the declaration that a criminal unfaithfulness on his part
had brought upon his beloved sons both temporal and eternal ruin! All this
destruction upon his sons, all this misery upon himself, was the consequence of
weak and criminal parental indulgence!

Doubtless it began while they were yet children; their every wish and every whim
were indulged, their foolish inclinations were gratified; he could never be
persuaded that any germs of malignant passions lurked under appearances so
playful and so lovely; he smiled at transgressions on which he ought to have
frowned; and instead of endeavoring kindly but firmly to eradicate the first
indications of pride, anger, ambition, deceit, self-will, and stubbornness—he
considered they were but the wild flowers of spring, which would die by
themselves as the summer advanced. The child grew in this hotbed of
indulgence—into the boy; the boy into the youth; the youth into the young man;
until habit had confirmed the vices of the child, and acquired a strength which
not only now bid defiance to parental restraint—but laughed it to scorn.

Contemplate the poor old man, sitting by the way-side upon his bench, in silent
despair, his heart torn with self-reproach, listening with sad presages for
tidings from the field of conflict. At length the messenger arrives, the doleful
news is told. The ark of God is taken, and his sons Hophni and Phinehas are
slain! His aged heart is broken, and he and his whole house are crushed at once
under that one sin—the excessive weakness and wickedness of a false and foolish
parental indulgence!

Parents, and especially mothers, look at this picture and tremble—contemplate
this sad scene, and learn the necessity of judicious, affectionate, firm, and
persevering discipline!

Foul blots!

"Bring them up in the training and instruction of the Lord." (Ephesians 6:4)

Parents! you are always educating your children for good—or for evil. Not only
by what you say—but by what you do! Not only by what you intend—but by what you
are! You yourself are one constant lesson which their eyes are observing, and
which their hearts are receiving. Influence, power, impulse, are ever going out
from you—take care then how you act! See the immense importance of parental
example. What example is so powerful as that of a parent? It is one of the first
things which a child observes; it is that which is most constantly before his
eyes, and it is that which his very relationship inclines him most attentively
to respect, and most assiduously to copy. Vain, worse than useless, is biblical
instruction which is not followed up by godly example. Good advice, when not
illustrated by good conduct, inspires disgust. There are multitudes of parents
to whom I would deliberately give the counsel never to say one syllable to their
children on the subject of religion—unless they enforce what they say by a
better example. Silence does infinitely less mischief than the most elaborate
instruction—which is all counteracted by inconsistent conduct!

Would you see the result of parental misconduct—look into the family of David.
Eminent as he was for the spirit of devotion, sweet as were the strains which
flowed from his inspired heart, and attached as he was to the worship of the
sanctuary—yet what foul blots rested upon his character, and what dreadful
trials did he endure in his family! What profligate creatures were his sons! And
who can tell how much the apostasy of Solomon was to be traced up to the
recollection of parental example?

Parents, beware, I beseech you, how you, act! O let your children see piety in
all its sincerity, power, beauty, and loveliness!

Rouse, Christian professors, from your slumbers and your dreams! Multitudes of
you are perishing in your sins—you are going down to the pit with a lie in your
right hand! Your profession alone will not save you, and that is all that some
of you have to depend upon. There are millions of professors of religion in the
bottomless pit, who while they lived brought no scandal upon religion by
immorality. But the life of God was not in their souls, they had a name to
live—but were dead! They looked around upon the low standards of the day in
which they lived, instead of studying the Bible for their standard of piety; and
went to the judgment of God, saying, "Lord, Lord, have we not been called by
Your name?" and then they met with the dreadful rebuff and rejection, "I never
knew you, depart from Me!"

Closet prayer

We live in a busy age, when Christians find little time for private prayer,
reading the Scriptures, and meditation.

Perhaps there was never so little private prayer among professors as there is
now. A few hasty expressions or a few broken thoughts, poured out without
solemnity or without coherence, or else a short form learned by rote, and
repeated at night or morning, or perhaps both, constitutes, it is to be feared,
all the private prayer which some offer to God.

Closet prayer means a person’s selecting some suitable time and place to be
alone with God, to pour out into His ear with freedom and enlargement, all the
cares, the sorrows, the desires, and the sins of a burdened heart and a troubled
conscience. It signifies the act of a child going to commune with his Divine
Parent, to give utterance to the expressions of his adoring gratitude, praise,
and love. It is but too obvious that there is comparatively little of such
closet exercises in this day of engrossing worldliness. What spirituality, what
heavenly-mindedness, can you expect in the habitual neglect of the closet?

Fearfully secularized

If asked to point out the specific and prevailing sin of the church in the
present day, I cannot hesitate to reply—a prevailing worldliness of mind, heart,
and conduct. The church is fearfully secularized in the spirit and temper of her
members. The love of the world is become the master-passion, before which other
and holier affections have grown dim and weak.

The determination, as well as the concern, to be rich, has crept into the
church! Those who profess to have overcome the world by faith, appear almost as
eager as others, in all schemes for getting wealth, and by almost any means.

This worldly spirit is also seen in the general habits and tastes of professing
Christians. Their style of living, their entertainments, their associations,
their amusements, their conversation—evince . . .a conformity to the world, a
minding of earthly things, a disposition to adapt themselves to the world
around, a desire to seek their happiness from objects of sense, rather than from
those of faith—which proves the extent to which a secular worldly spirit is
dominating the spirit of piety in the church.

I am the servant of Christ

Are you taken up with getting and enjoying wealth, grandeur, and worldly ease?
How deeply are the great bulk of professing Christians sunk in the love and
pursuit of the world—and how almost entirely occupied by its cares or its
enjoyments! They are absorbed in seeking selfishness, avarice, worldliness,
indolence and luxuriousness.

I am not to consider myself as sent into the world merely to get wealth, and
enjoy myself. I am the servant of Christ, and must do my Master’s work. I am
bought with a price, and am not my own, and must yield myself up to my Divine
owner.

Worth nothing in themselves

True religion is not merely an outward observance of ceremonies, nor an
attendance upon ordinances; these things are worth nothing in themselves—and are
not acceptable to God. They are profitable only as they spring from the inward
principle of a renewed, holy, and humble mind.

True religion begins in deep conviction of sin, a sense of our fallen and ruined
state as exposed to the wrath of God; and then goes on in a simple faith in the
Gospel, leading to an entire, thankful, and peace-giving dependence on the blood
and righteousness of Christ for acceptance with God.

From this faith there arises love to God, to His people, to His ways, and to
holiness. In proportion as faith is felt, it makes its possessor humble, meek,
and benevolent; full of pity for man and zeal for the glory of God.

Oh, where is the compassion for souls?

"For what shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his
own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" Mark 8:36-37

Nothing can be more momentous than eternity!

Ponder the worth of a soul! Weigh the solemn significance of that word,
damnation! Measure, if you can, the height of salvation!

What would you not do—to save your children from falling into the water or the
fire? Oh, think of the bottomless pit—and the fire which is never quenched! Take
a proper aim in all you do. Look as high as heaven, as deep as to the mouth of
hell, and as far as eternity!

The world is perishing around us! Sinners are going down to the pit before our
eyes! Immortal souls by countless millions are crowding to the regions of
eternal despair!

How little are we affected by the terrific scene! How little are we pierced by a
sense of the ignorance, sin and misery which appeal to our very senses! Oh,
where is the compassion for souls?

It is a distressing spectacle in such a world as ours,where evil of every kind
so much abounds—to observe the disgusting and odious selfishness of many of the
rich, who are wholly taken up with their own luxurious gratification, as if born
only to pamper their appetites and indulge their tastes—without bestowing a
thought or a care upon the misery which prevails around them.

True religion makes you holy, kind, gentle, good-tempered and happy. The whole
system of the gospel is a system of love, God is love. Redemption is a
manifestation of His love. Christ is love incarnate. His religion is love. All
who make a profession of such a religion should therefore be distinguished by
its characteristic feature—and shine forth in the mild beauty of holy love.

Keep your heart!

"Keep your heart with all diligence, for out of it is the wellspring of life."
Proverbs 4:2

"I the Lord am the searcher of the heart, the tester of the thoughts, so that I
may give to every man the reward of his ways, in keeping with the fruit of his
doings." Jeremiah 17:10

It is the heart which is the constant object of divine notice and omniscient
scrutiny. Man looks at the conduct—and conjectures the motive from the action.
God looks at the heart—and determines the action by the motive. What our heart
is—that are we in the judgment of the All-wise. The heart influences the
conduct—"for out of it is the wellspring of life." As in the physical body, the
heart is the fountain of that vital fluid which according as it is healthy or
impure, carries vigor or feebleness, pain or ease, activity or torpor to the
whole body—so is it also in the spiritual frame. Let us keep the heart—and the
heart will keep the life.

Why are Christians not more attentive to this duty? In some cases, there is too
little real concern about spiritual things, too much lukewarmness of soul, too
much absorption of mind in secular concerns. Then, also, there is real
difficulty in heart work—it requires painstaking, retirement, resistance of the
encroachments of the world. Many are afraid to have dealings with the heart. A
careful examination would discover much that is evil, and much that they would
rather not know, and which they would not like to put away.

And where are they now?

My dear children, I would think it probable that during my fifty year pastorate
here, nearly 20,000 children have been in our Sunday schools. And where are they
now? Many are in eternity! Some, we hope, in heaven—others, we fear, in hell!

During my pastorate I have witnessed multitudes of children that have grown up
to be their parents’ comfort and joy; and others breaking their parents’ heart
by their misconduct, and bringing down their grey hairs with sorrow to the
grave. To which of these classes do you belong?

Imagine what would be the results

Imagine what would be the results, if the Bible were circulated through the
whole earth, its dictates everywhere obeyed, and its spirit generally imbibed.
There would neither be tyranny in the prince, nor rebellion in the subject;
there would be neither fraud nor violence, neither injustice nor oppression,
neither war nor bloodshed.

In short, if the Bible were universally circulated, believed and obeyed—every
evil that renders man a foe to others and himself would be removed—and the whole
family upon earth harmonized into order and happiness.

Sickness and disease

Christians, like others, are exposed to the attacks of sickness and disease.
"Wearisome nights, and months of vanity, are appointed to them." But their
religion follows them into the sick chamber, and is their nurse, their
companion, and their comforter—giving patience in the day, and songs even in the
night. How soothing are its consolations, how pleasant are its reflections, how
bright are its anticipations! It speaks to the sufferers of the sources of their
sorrows, and tells them that they all proceed from their Father in heaven! It
reminds them of . . .His unerring wisdom, His infinite love, His unfailing
fidelity, His gracious presence in the scene of woe, His merciful design in
every chastisement of His hand, the blissful outcome in which He will cause all
to terminate.

They can bear confinement, for God is with them. Their hours are not made heavy
and irksome by the recollection of the mirthful scenes from which they are cut
off, and the amusements to which they have no longer access. Their entertainment
has come with them; they have brought the cup of their pleasure with them, and
they can drink it amidst the languor of disease, as a refreshing cordial, or an
exhilarating draught.

The essence of heaven

This is heaven . . . perfect knowledge of God, perfect enjoyment of His favor,
perfect love of His infinite excellences, perfect obedience to His commands,
perfect conformity to His image, all this by a soul refined in its tastes,
enlarged in its capacity, and immortal in its duration!

What other sources of enjoyment will be open to the blessed in heaven, it is not
for us now to know, or even to conjecture; doubtless there are some which it is
impossible for us to understand. But the fountain of delight will be God, and
the essence of heaven is the enjoyment of His love. He is the first truth, and
the chief good; beyond which nothing higher remains to be known, nothing richer
to be enjoyed!

The Gospel is the grand universal remedy—the comforter of sinful and sorrowful
man. Can a man really believe . . .that God loves him, that the Eternal is
favorably disposed towards him, that all his sins are pardoned, that heaven
secured to him, and not be glad, grateful, and happy?

This is a fearful picture!

Fearful is the death of the worldling! Oh, from what he departs—and to what he
goes! What a parting! To leave all he loved and admired—and go to his eternal
destiny! To have acquired nothing, and saved nothing—but what he can no longer
keep! After crossing the dark waters of death, he will be set ashore in a vast
and black eternity, naked and destitute, with nothing to relieve, support, or
comfort him! And who shall describe the scene that follows? It is done by one
whose solemn pencil was guided by an unerring hand.

"There was a rich man who would dress in purple and fine linen, feasting
lavishly every day. But a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, was left
at his gate. He longed to be filled with what fell from the rich man’s table,
but instead the dogs would come and lick his sores. One day the poor man died
and was carried away by the angels to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and
was buried. And being in torment in Hell, he looked up and saw Abraham a long
way off, with Lazarus at his side. ’Father Abraham!’ he called out, ’Have mercy
on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue,
because I am in agony in this flame!’ " (Luke 16:19-24)

This is a fearful picture! Of what? An infidel? No! An immoral and profligate
man? No! A bloody tyrant? No! A remorseless oppressor of the poor? No!

This is a picture of a worldling! Of a man whose sin was that he sought his
happiness entirely from earthly sources. It was not our Lord’s intention to
describe a man of ill-gotten wealth, but one whose whole happiness was derived
from his wealth—one who cared for nothing but what he saw, and tasted, and
handled, and felt—who had what he sought, and then, having passed his time in a
life of earthly gratification, went away to spend his eternity in a state of
banishment from that God whose favor was never, in his estimation, essential to
his happiness.

Such a termination of his sensual course is just what the worldling might expect
and ought to expect; for if he slighted God’s favor, and did not even seek for
it; if he made himself, or strove to make himself, happy without it; if he
valued everything more than God, and set his wealth, or rank, or fame, or
pleasure, above God’s love; if he cared not for salvation, and thought heaven of
such little consequence, as not to be worth his pursuit; has he any reason to
complain of being denied that which he never asked for, and which he is not fit
for? In banishing such a man from heaven, God does but give him his choice. God
does but leave him to himself. There ends the earthly course, and begins the
eternal one—of him who seeks for happiness in earthly vanities.

Beautiful bubbles!

Many are saying, "Who can show us any good?" Psalms 4:6

There is certainly some pleasure in the gratification of the appetites—in the
enjoyment of health, friends, property, and fame. Even sinful objects have their
pleasures. There could be no power in temptation, if sin yielded no enjoyment.
But viewing man as a rational, moral, and immortal creature; as a sinner subject
to the stings of a reproachful conscience, and under the displeasure of the God
he has offended; as liable to all the vicissitudes of a tearful existence, and
ever exposed to the fear and stroke of death—he needs something more for his
happiness than can be found in the objects of this world. He has . . .needs
which they cannot supply; cravings which they cannot satisfy; woes which they
cannot alleviate; anxieties which they cannot dispel.

For each one that is even tolerably successful in gaining felicity from visible
objects, there are many who utterly fail. Their schemes are frustrated; their
hopes perish; their air castles vanish as they journey on in life; and each ends
a course of worldly-mindedness, by adding another to the millions of examples
which had proved this present world to be vanity.

In some cases, abundance and unobstructed enjoyment produce boredom. Tired of
old pleasures, they look about for new ones, and plead the oft-repeated inquiry,
"Who will show us anything good?" Novelty perhaps comes to the relief of their
discontented, restless, and dissatisfied minds; but novelty itself soon grows
old, and still something new is wanted. There remains an aching void within, a
craving, hungry appetite for bliss—unsatisfied, unfed. They hunt for enjoyment .
. .in endless parties of pleasure, in every place of amusement, in every scene
of diversion; in the dance, and in the game; in the theater, and in the concert;
amidst the scenes of nature, and in the changes of foreign travel; but
happiness, like a shadow ever flitting before them, and ever eluding their
grasp, tantalizes them with its form, without yielding them its substance, and
excites their hopes—only to disappoint them!

What are all the pleasures of time and sense, all the objects of this visible
world—but as the dropping of pebbles into a deep chasm, which, instead of
filling it up, only tell him how deep it is—by awakening the dismal echoes of
emptiness and desolation.

Look at the worldling. Does he succeed in his quest for happiness? Is he
satisfied? Let him possess all he seeks, all he wishes, all that earth can
furnish; let rank be added to wealth, and fame to both; let a constant round of
fashionable amusements, festive scenes, and elegant parties, follow in endless
succession, until his cup is full to overflowing. What does it all amount to?
"All that my eyes desired, I did not deny them. I did not refuse myself any
pleasure. When I considered all that I had accomplished and what I had labored
to achieve, I found everything to be futile and a pursuit of the wind! There was
nothing to be gained under the sun." (Ecclesiastes 2:1-26)

Have not multitudes since Solomon’s time, made the same melancholy confession?
Is it not a general admission, that the pleasure of worldly objects arises more
from hope and anticipation, rather than possession? They are like beautiful
bubbles, which, as they float, reflect the colors of the rainbow—but dissolve
and vanish when grasped! Tell me, votaries of earthly good, have you realized
what you expected? Are not the scenes of festivity and amusement resorted to, by
many with aching hearts? Does not the smiling countenance often conceal a
troubled spirit; and is not the laugh resorted to in order to suppress the sigh?

Even if it were granted, that the possession of wealth, the gratifications of
taste, and the indulgence of appetite, could give happiness in seasons of health
and prosperity—they must inevitably fail in the day of sickness and adversity.
If they were satisfying for a season—they are all fragile and uncertain! All the
enjoyments of this life are like gathered flowers, which are no sooner plucked
than they begin to lose their beauty and their fragrance while we look at them
and smell them; and which, however mirthful and beautiful they appeared while
they were growing—begin to wither as soon as they are in our hands!

Many are saying, "Who can show us any good?" Psalms 4:6

Your idol?

What is it, that you are looking to and depending upon for happiness? Is HEALTH
your idol, and the source of your happiness? How soon may we be smitten with
disease—and doomed to wearisome nights and months of vanity in the chamber of
sickness. Will riches smooth the pillow of sickness? Will the counting money or
the surveying estates, when it can be done only in imagination, enchant the
sleepless hours, and cheer the long sad days of ceaseless pain? Will the
recollection of the parties you have attended, the pleasures you have enjoyed
but cannot any longer enjoy—enliven the gloom of the solitary chamber? Will the
sound of carriages at midnight, taking the votaries of pleasure to or from the
scenes of fashionable resort, impart to your feverish frame any relief, or to
your distressed mind any comfort? Oh, what, in that long, dark season of trial
which may be coming upon you, will the pleasures and possessions of earth do for
you?

What is it, that you are looking to and depending upon for happiness? Is WEALTH
your idol, and the source of your happiness? How justly is it called in
Scripture, "uncertain riches!" and "deceitful mammon!" "Riches," said the wise
man, "make to themselves wings and fly away as an eagle towards heaven." And is
it not most strange folly to stake your happiness on that which, like an uncaged
bird, may at any moment be upon the wing, and soaring where we cannot follow?
What changes have we witnessed in the circumstances of men; what rapid falls
from wealth to poverty! How many do we know who, by those vicissitudes which are
ever going on in this commercial country, and in this speculating age, have
descended from the sunny heights of prosperity—to dwell the remainder of their
days in the gloomy valley of poverty below! This may be your case. Your
treasure, like the volatile quicksilver, may slip through your fingers when you
think you hold it firmest. What will you do for comfort then? Your friends, like
summer birds, will migrate when your winter has come upon you! You will no
longer be able to have parties—and who invites the child of misfortune to
theirs? Those who once shared your hospitalities, will forget you in the season
of your humiliation, for your presence will no longer grace their circle. What,
then, will you do, when the world frowns—and you have no one else to smile upon
you?

What is it, that you are looking to and depending upon for happiness? Is
PLEASURE your idol, and the source of your happiness? How soon may you be
unfitted by sickness or change of circumstances for this, and have the sweet and
intoxicating cup dashed from your lips! How soon may your place be vacant at the
resort of the mirthful and the fashionable! And then with what melancholy
feelings will you contrast the amusements of the ball-room, the concert, or the
party—with the abode of poverty or disease!

What is it, that you are looking to and depending upon for happiness? Are
FRIENDS your idol, and the source of your happiness? Alas! alas! how soon may
’the spoiler’ enter your earthly paradise, and convert that joyous scene into a
desert, by the death of the most endeared objects of your affection! What!
depend for your supreme felicity on the frail continuance of a beating pulse!
Death enters, not only into the scenes of discord and strife, but also into
those of the purest love and sweetest harmony—and, disregarding the entreaties
of marital or parental love, bears off the object to which, more than all the
universe besides, you looked for your bliss!

Where, then, will you find satisfaction? The finite has failed—and the infinite
God has not been sought! The human and earthly has been taken away—and the
divine and heavenly has not been acquired. That one death has covered earth with
sackcloth, and has thrown a pall over all that it contains. Is happiness, then,
to be found amidst such uncertainties?

"The meekness and gentleness of Christ" 2 Corinthians 10:1

Our Christian profession involves in it far more than an orthodox creed, a
regular attendance upon religious ordinances, and an abstinence from gross
immorality. It involves the image of Jesus, yes His very mind and spirit. The
meekness and gentleness of Christ are to be our badge of distinction, the token
of our submission to His authority, and the evidence of our sincerity. We must
mortify our pride, curb our rashness, allay the heat of anger, and extinguish
resentment. We should be discreet, mild, and courteous, in all our language and
conduct, weighing the import of words before we utter them, and calculating the
consequences of actions before we perform them.

One of the most difficult duties which ever our proud hearts have to perform, is
to say, "I have done wrong, forgive me."


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The true spirit of Christianity

Quarrels among Christians! Is there not a contradiction here? Do Christians ever
quarrel with one another? Does not Christianity, where it is really possessed
and felt in its proper influence, imply all that is loving, and kind, and
peaceable? Certainly! And if every professor of it really lived under its
influence, there would be no such thing as brother trespassing against brother.
Christianity is, in every aspect of it—a religion of love. God is love. Christ
is love. The law is love. The gospel is love. Heaven is love.

That one word "love," comprehends everything.

Perfect love not only casts out fear, but malice. In heaven there will be no
quarreling, because every one of its inhabitants is perfect in love. The design
of Christianity is not only to conduct us to heaven, but to fit us for it—and it
does this by imparting to us the spirit of love. The true spirit of Christianity
is that which the apostle has, with such exquisite beauty, described in the
thirteenth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians.

This heavenly exotic

The church of God in general has yet failed to exhibit in any considerable and
attractive prominence, that spirit of holy love, by which it was intended by its
Divine Founder to be characterized. The ’wolf and the serpent’ are too often to
be seen, where only the ’lamb and the dove’ should be found.

Christianity has not yet left the impression of its exceeding loveliness, as
deeply stamped as it should be on the characters of its professors. Of all its
graces, none is so faintly and imperfectly traced as Christian love. It has been
found more easy, at any rate more common, to subdue the lustful disposition,
than the irascible disposition. And yet it is as much the intention of Christ,
that His people should be distinguished by meekness and gentleness—as it is by
purity, justiceand truthfulness.

Love is pre-eminently the Christian grace. Equity, chastity, and veracity, have
been found in the list of heathen virtues—but not charity. These other virtues
have sometimes "shed their fragrance on the desert air" of paganism. But where
has love been found—except in the garden of the Lord?

Alas, that even there this plant of Paradise, this heavenly exotic, should so
often look shriveled and worm-eaten; and thus fail to procure for its Divine
Curator all the praise it should, and in its more flourishing condition would
do. My concern is that Christian love should be cultivated with more care, and
be seen with admiration in healthful vigor and in beauty.

It is a pity

We pray for the conversion of our children. What fervent petitions are breathed
out for them! Well, and how are these prayers followed up? By the serious,
regular, and devout maintenance of family prayer? By clear instruction,
affectionate counsels, faithful warning, and above all, a consistent exhibition
of the beauties of holiness in ourselves? Do our children see in us, and hear
from us, all that can recommend true religion, and that is calculated to win
them to piety? Or, on the contrary, do they not place our conduct and our
prayers in contrast, and think, if they do not say, that it is a pity their
father does not act more as he prays?

There is often a shocking inconsistency between our prayers, and our actions.

The religion of some people

True religion is life—and it is a vigorous life—not sickly, declining life.

The religion of some people is just enough to make them miserable. It spoils
them for the world, without fitting them for the church. Their religious
profession is an encumbrance upon them, and is in the way of their worldly
enjoyment. These are the men who are so taken up with the world, that they do
not desire the joy of true religion, and are unwilling to cast out a single
earthly care or enjoyment, though it were to make way for all the consolations
of the Spirit!

Spiritual joy

Oh! how numerous are the machinations of Satan to keep God’s people from being
happy—when he cannot keep them from being holy! How numerous and how subtle are
the methods by which he causes the children of light to walk in darkness!

Many suppose that spiritual joy means something mystic, ecstatic, almost
seraphic. They are not contented with the calm, sweet, serene enjoyment of
peace.

Spiritual joy has nothing to do with frivolity, merriment and lightness.

Nothing spectral in appearance, nor sepulchral in tone, nor ascetic in habit,
nor cynical in spirit, should characterize a Christian. He is a child of light,
and should live, and act, and speak as such. He should be like one bending his
way back to paradise, and bearing the trials of earth, with the recollection of
his happy destiny, and the prospect of his future glory! He should have
something of the bliss of heaven—and much of its seriousness too.

By spiritual joy, I mean the joy produced by true religion. It is that holy
peace which is the result of divine truth . . .understood, believed, and
contemplated. It is not mere exhilaration of the animal spirits, the joyousness
produced by good health, worldly prosperity, friendship, or gratification of
taste.

It is true, that his spiritual delight may blend itself, and does, with his more
common pleasures—sweetening, sanctifying, and elevating them all—but still it is
of a different kind. It is the joy of faith, of hope, of love. It is joy in God,
in Christ, in holiness, in heaven.

Spiritual joy is ordinarily a calm, unruffled feeling; a composed and serene
state of mind. It is a tranquil river which flows through the soul, noiseless in
proportion as it is deep. Spiritual joy is a sweet rest, diffusing a feeling of
joyous repose over the heart. The springs of true happiness

The springs of true happiness gush out from the foot of the cross! But how
little do many who profess to have drank the living water, appear as if they had
been at the crystal stream, and were satisfied with it!

Mere ’religious professors’ do not desire this spiritual joy. They certainly
would have some kind of enjoyment; they desire to be gratified. But it is only
the joy . . .of friendship, of health, of success in business, of a comfortable
home, and a quiet fire-side that they long for. They do not desire . . .the
peace of believing, the pleasure of communing with God, the delight of holiness
and hope, the felicity of a sense of pardoned sin, the gratification arising
from the exercises of devotion.


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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

We must learn it by painful experience!

The death of Christian friends should impress us with, even as it shows us—the
vanity of the world. All that poetry ever wrote, even the most mournful,
beautiful, and pensive of its strains—all that philosophy ever argued—all that
morality ever taught, conveys no such view, and is calculated to produce no such
impressions, of the emptiness of the world—as the desolate chamber, the vacant
place, the deserted chair, the picture—of some dear object of our heart’s
affection!

It is at the tomb of that loved, lost friend, the world stands stripped of its
false disguise, and is presented to us as a shadow! Gloom now covers everything.
Scenes that once pleased, please no more. Favorite walks are shunned, or
re-trodden only to remind us of the dear companion that once shared their
beauties with us. Seasons return, but not to bring with them the delights with
which the presence of one beloved object associates them. We go about in the
bitterness of our spirit, crying, "Vanity of vanity—all is vanity and vexation
of spirit!" We are ready to sigh for death to relieve us from the tedium of
existence, and the sense of emptiness!

Be it so! It is all true! The world is empty! And it was intended by God that it
should be! The world contains no satisfying bliss! It is a cistern, a broken
cistern, which can hold no water. God told us so, but we would not learn this by
His word—so now we must learn it by painful experience! If we cannot be taught
by ’faith’, since we must learn—we are in mercy taught by ’feeling’ it to be
empty!

Oh let us go to the fountain that is full, flowing, open! Let us go to the
fountain of living waters! If there is emptiness, nothingness, in the
world—there is fullness in God! Is there enough in Him to satisfy millions of
millions, and not enough to satisfy us? Let us crucify the world. There is more
happiness in a crucified world, than in an idolized one!

If our hearts cannot die to the world anywhere else—let them be crucified at the
tomb of those we love!

The plough and the harrow

In some people we discover a striking and beautiful mellowness of character, as
the result of God’s chastening hand. The roughness, harshness, arrogance, and
haughtiness of their conduct, which once rendered them annoying and offensive,
are scraped off—and a sweet gentleness, humility, meekness, and softness of
manner, and a tenderness of spirit have come in their place. There is now . . .a
gentleness in their speech, a mildness in their look, and a kindliness and
cautiousness in their manner, which tell us how the haughty spirit has been
broken, and the proud loftiness of their mind has been brought down. An unusual
loveliness has been spread over their character, a holy amiableness has been
infused into their temper, and a stubborn self-will has yielded to a kind
consideration of the wishes and feelings of others; which convince all around
them, how much the Spirit of God has done in them, and for them, by the
afflictions they have endured. How the plough and the harrow have broken up the
hard soil, and pulverized the rough clods of their stubborn nature, and prepared
it for the growth of the precious seed of the kingdom.

"Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I keep Your word. It is good for
me that I was afflicted, that I mightlearn Your statutes. I know, O Lord, that
Your judgments are righteous, and that in faithfulness You have afflicted me."
(Psalms 119:67, Psalms 119:71, Psalms 119:75)

These predominant sins

Almost all of us have ’favorite pet sins’—which there is not ordinarily that
concern and labor for putting them away, which there should be. They are
indulged, instead of being resisted. Thus they gain strength by such indulgence,
and most sadly disfigure our character and disturb our spiritual peace!

Prosperity, like sunshine upon weeds, often causes them to grow rapidly! And
then God in great faithfulness, love and mercy sends adversity, like frost, to
kill them. Upon a bed of sickness, and in other severe trials—they are often
remembered, understood, and seen in all their sinfulness. They are then
lamented, confessed, and mortified.

Nothing can be a darker sign than for a professor’s conscience to be so dull and
drowsy during a time of trial, as to leave him unadmonished respecting these
predominant sins.

It is sometimes a blessed fruit of tribulation, that these predominant sins have
been weakened, if not eradicated. It is worth any amount of suffering to secure
this result. Happy the Christian who comes out of the furnace, with his dross
removed by the fire! No matter what he has lost—he has gained freedom from these
inward enemies of his peace and purity.

We all know more than we do; and we should be more solicitous to reduce to
practice what we already know, than to acquire still more of ’mere theory’.

Pulpit buffoonery

One characteristic of Whitefield’s manner which deserves particular attention,
was his solemnity. He never degraded the pulpit by low humor and low wit;
abounding in anecdote—but he was uniformly solemn. His deep devotional spirit
contributed largely to this, for his piety was the inward fire which supplied
the ardor of his manner.

He was eminently a man of prayer; and had he been less prayerful, he would also
have been less powerful. He came into the pulpit from the closet where he had
been communing with God, and could no more be trifling, merry, or humorous at
such a time, than could Moses when he came down from the fiery mount to the
people! Happily the age and taste for pulpit buffoonery is gone, I hope never to
return.

It was the stamp and impress of eternity upon his preaching that gave Whitfield
such power. He spoke like a man who stood upon the borders of the unseen world,
alternately enrapt in ecstasy as he gazed upon the felicities of heaven; and
convulsed with terror as he heard the howlings of the damned, and saw the smoke
of their torment ascending from the pit forever and ever. His maxim was to
preach for eternity. He said if ministers preached for eternity they would act
the part of true Christian orators.

We need pastors imbued with his spirit, his piety, his dependence upon the
Spirit of God, his love for souls, his devotedness, and his earnestness!

And tell me, my brethren, what are all the prettinesses, the beauties, or even
sublimities of human eloquence; what are all the similes, metaphors, and other
garniture of rhetoric which many in this day are aiming at, to move, and bow,
and conquer the human soul—compared with "the powers of the world to come?"

The great moral magnet

"As for Me, if I am lifted up from the earth I will draw all people to Myself."
(John 12:32)

So said the Savior of men. The cross is for all ages and all countries the great
moral magnet to draw men . . .from barbarism to civilization, from sin to
holiness, from misery to happiness, and from earth to heaven!

"One thing I do!" Php 3:13

Human life is so short, and the faculties of man are so limited, that he who
would do some great thing, must do but one; and must do that one with such a
concentration of his forces, as, to idle spectators who live only to amuse
themselves, looks like enthusiasm, and almost draws upon him the charge of
fanaticism.

It is never to be forgotten, amidst all the fluctuations of opinion, all the
vicissitudes of earthly affairs, and even the advance of civilization, science,
and social improvement—that human nature, in its spiritual condition and its
relation to God, remains unchanged. The lapse of ages will never improve our
natural corruption, nor will the progress of science and advance of civilization
eradicate it. Man as he is born into the world in sin, and grows up in it, will
still, as ever, need both the redemption and the regeneration of the gospel of
Christ.

The great stream of the population is dashing in one mighty cataract over the
precipice of impenitence and unbelief—into the dreadful gulf below!

Oh wonderful, ineffable, inconceivable exchange!

The SUDDEN DEATH of a real Christian, is an unspeakable blessing. Such a one is
spared . . . .the languors of sickness, the racking pain, the anguish sometimes
almost intolerable, and all the other terrible harbingers of death protracted
through wearisome nights and months of vanity! To be exempt from the
heart-rending pangs of separation at the last faltering adieu; to be saved from
those gloomy apprehensions which sometimes arise in the minds of the strongest
and holiest of believers when contemplating the portals of the tomb; to be
carried through the iron gates of death before we knew we were drawing near to
them; to wake up in a moment, as from a dream, at the sound of the seraphim’s
song—and exchange in an instant of time the sights of earthly objects for the
glorious realities of heaven—and the society of friends below for the
innumerable company of angels; to find ourselves suddenly in the presence of God
and the Lamb, and see the smile of welcome upon the countenance of the
Savior—and with a burst of astonishment and gratitude to exclaim, "And is this
heaven? and am I there? How short the road! How swift the flight!"

Oh wonderful, ineffable, inconceivable exchange!

"In vain our fancy strives to paint The moment after death, The glories that
surround the saint, When he resigns his breath!

"Thus much, and this is all we know—They are completely blessed, Are done with
sin, and care, and woe, And with their Savior rest!"

Sudden death to a real Christian—is one mighty bound from earth to heaven!
Sudden death to an unconverted sinner—is one dreadful stumble into hell. Oh,
unutterable horror—to be surprised, overwhelmed, confounded in a moment—by
exchanging the pleasures, the friends, the possessions, the prospects of
earth—for those doleful shades, where peace and hope can never dwell.

You, too, may die suddenly. Are you ready, quite prepared by repentance towards
God, faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, and a holy life—for death—for speedy
death—for sudden death? Prepare to meet your God! Prepare for death, for
judgment and eternity! Prepare! Prepare!

You will certainly die!

"But you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for on
the day you eat from it, you will certainly die!" (Genesis 2:17)

Every dying groan, every tolling death-bell, every funeral procession, every
opened grave, proclaims the evil of sin, and is a warning against it!

"For the wages of sin is death." (Romans 6:23)

Death is the dreadful gate, the dark passage to eternity!

True believers pass through this solemn scene uttering the song of triumph,
"Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!"

Old age, apart from moral excellence, is an object of detestation and loathing.
A wicked old man is the most shocking spectacle upon earth—with the exception of
a wicked old minister!

Dumb dogs!

"Epaphroditus, my brother, fellow worker, fellow soldier" (Php 2:25)

Some people seek the pastoral ministry, as an office which provides a good
income—while they disregard all its duties and its obligations. Such doubtless
there are, men who seekthe ministry for the indulgence of a literary taste, or
for the gratification of a propensity to idleness. It is too true that all
sections of the church are cursed with some ministers of this description, who
are each looking for his gain. "His watchmen are blind, all of them, they know
nothing; all of them are dumb dogs, they cannot bark; they dream, lie down, and
love to sleep. These dogs have fierce appetites; they never have enough. And
they are shepherds who have no discernment; all of them turn to their own way,
every last one for his own gain." Isaiah 56:10-11

But look at the true, the good, the faithful minister, as described in
Scripture. He is . . .a laborer, a watchman, a fisher, a soldier, a builder, a
wrestler; all terms that employ toil, vigilance, effort, perseverance, and
enduring self-denial. There are some men, whose lives and exertions justify the
employment of such figures of speech. They do labor . . .in the closet by
wrestling supplication; in the study by intense application; in the pulpit by
earnest preaching; in the church by pastoral oversight; in the houses by
counsel, reproof, and warning; by their pens as well as their tongues; on week
days and on Sundays; at home and abroad.

The faithful minister must be classed among those who have no leisure. As he
maintains a holy, blameless and consistent life, many are . . .impressed by his
example, enriched by his beneficence, blessed by his prayers, and instructed by
his principles.

Truth and love are the two most powerful things in the universe! It is by the
’silken cord of love’, united with the ’golden thread of truth’, that the church
must draw the world to Christ.

The Bible is the central luminary around which all true Christians revolve, in
nearer or remoter orbits, reflecting the splendor of its beams, and governed by
the power of its attraction.

See how well the world goes on without them!

(John Angell James, "The London Missionary Society" 1849)

Christ can do much by the weakest instrument; and He can do altogether without
the strongest. He that could do without apostles and prophets, after he had
removed them by death, can dispense with us! This should check the inflation of
some proud men’s minds, and repress that overweening conceit by which they
destroy in part their own usefulness.

It would surprise and mortify many, could they come out of their graves ten
years after they had entered them, and still retained the ideas they once
entertained of their own importance—to see how well the world goes on without
them!

If the death of ordinary individuals be but as the casting of a pebble from the
seashore into the ocean, which is neither missed from the one nor sensibly
gained by the other; the death of the more extraordinary ones is but as the
sinking of a larger rock into the abyss beneath—it makes at the time a rumbling
noise and a great splash; but the wave which it raises soon subsides into a
ripple, the ripple itself as soon sinks to a placid level, the tide flows, ships
pass, commerce goes on, and shore and ocean appear just as they did before the
disruption!

Ah! my brethren, let us seek to have our record in heaven, where it will be
engraved in characters which will stand forever on the Rock of Ages! For it will
soon be effaced here on earth, where it is only as a footprint upon the sand,
which the next wave will speedily and entirely obliterate forever! A censurable,
disgraceful, and destructive habit!

"That you not become slothful, but imitators of those who through faith and
patience are inheriting the promises." (Hebrews 6:12)

Slothfulness, in every aspect in which it can be viewed, and in every relation
to human affairs, is a censurable, disgraceful, and destructive habit! With that
incalculable source of energy which every rational and healthy mind carries
about within itself, and with the many occasions and demands for its exercise,
which in this busy world surround us—it is a sin and a shame for any man to
"stand idle all the day long."

Indolence, in reference to the concerns of this world, is bad enough. But where
shall we find language sufficiently strong to describe the present guilt and
future misery of indolence and sloth in reference to the soul and the soul’s
concerns? Of all the instances of folly, sin, and misery, which the inhabitants
of earth present, the most astounding must be the sight of an impenitent sinner,
slumbering in careless security over the over the bottomless pit!

One would be led to imagine, did not experience testify to the contrary, that
there is enough in that one word ’eternity’ to rouse all men to the most intense
concern, and to the most laborious diligence!

Could that happy spirit who has lately left our world be permitted to address
you from her throne of glory, with what an emphasis would she say, "Beloved
friends, with whom on earth I took sweet counsel, and walked to the house of God
in company, could you conceive of but a thousandth part of the glory which now
surrounds me, you would account that world which so sinfully engrosses your
attention scarcely worth a passing glance, or a momentary thought! Do not be
slothful, when heaven or hell hangs upon your life! Do not be slothful, when
eternity is before you! Do not be slothful, when infinite joy, or endless woe,
attends on every breath!"

How perilous to yourselves, how corrupting to others, how discreditable to
religion, how displeasing to Christ, is slothfulness in the Christian
profession! The highest class in the school of Christ

"So that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and
patience inherit the promises." Hebrews 6:12

By patience, we mean a quiet waiting, amidst sufferings and sorrows—for the
heavenly kingdom. Patience is an uncomplaining willingness to remain any length
of time, and amidst any tribulation, for the glory to be revealed.

No circumstances of life, (and let the sufferer hear and drink in the
soul-comforting thought,) no circumstances of life seem to ripen the Christian
so fast or so perfectly for heaven—as the experience of sorrow and affliction.
Oh! then let our comforts go, then let our eyes weep, then let our hearts
bleed—if our Father is thus ripening us for everlasting fruition and
inconceivable bliss!

"But patience must do its complete work, so that you may be mature and complete,
lacking nothing." (James 1:4)

James intimates, that when we are enabled to exercise the grace of patience, we
have reached the highest class in the school of Christ, have nothing more to
learn upon earth, and are ready and fit to depart, and to be with Jesus—and have
then obtained as much grace as can be possessed, short of glory itself!

Patience, then, sufferer, patience! The first moment, and the first glance of
heaven will be an infinite recompense for all you suffer—for all you lose on
earth! If every step on earth is a step of suffering—then let each be a step of
patience!

Weep you may—murmur you must not.

Nature may pay the tribute of a groan—but grace must pay it with a smile.

The shower of your tears may fall—but in the rays of the Sun of Righteousness
must reflect the beauteous rainbow of the promise.

Christian, you make your way to glory along the path of patient resignation,
which, if it is like the Valley of Weeping, and has its briars and its
thorns—has also its refreshing rain-pools of heavenly consolation!

The base cares and the petty enjoyments of the present world

Sin is raging all around us!

Satan is busy in the work of destruction!

Men are dying!

Souls are every moment departing into eternity!

Hell is enlarging her mouth, and multitudes are continually descending to
torments which knows no mitigation and no end!

Heaven expanding above us!

Hell yawning beneath us!

Eternity opening before us!

How astounding is it sometimes to ourselves, that, favored with a certain,
though distant, view of the celestial city, living almost within the sight of
its glories and the sound of its music, the base cares and the petty enjoyments
of the present world should have so much power over us, as to retard us in our
heavenward course, and make us negligent and indolent, heedless and forgetful.

Time is short, life uncertain, death at hand, and immortality is about to
swallow up our existence in eternal life—or eternal death!

Love of deception

They are a rebellious people, deceptive children, children who do not obey the
Lord’s instruction. They say to the seers, "Do not see," and to the prophets,
"Do not prophesy the truth to us. Tell us flattering things! Prophesy illusions!
Get out of the way! Leave the pathway. Rid us of the Holy One of Israel."
(Isaiah 30:9-11)

A wish to be deceived is a state of mind by no means uncommon. This was the case
with the Jews at the time when this prophecy was delivered. Their national
crimes were bringing destruction nearer and nearer. Their political horizon was
perpetually becoming darker, and signs of the accumulating vengeance of Heaven
were multiplying around them. The prophets, bearing the burden of the Lord,
represented him as a holy Being, whom their transgressions insulted, and whose
justice must necessarily be roused to avenge wrong. One denunciation followed
another, until the people, alike unwilling to be reformed and to hear of the
punishment which would come upon them for their impenitence, were anxious to
change the tone of the prophets’ faithful ministrations. They could not bear the
pungent warnings of those holy men; they trembled under the solemn and
impassioned appeals of Isaiah and his fellow-prophets, and endeavored, either by
threats to silence, or by bribes to corrupt, the oracles of heaven. The holiness
of God was a subject peculiarly offensive to them—hence the exclamation, "Rid us
of the Holy One of Israel!" They wanted to hear only of his mercy. They would
have disrobed him of his garments of light, and silenced, if they could, the
song of the seraphim, uttered in praise of his unsullied purity. The deity they
wanted to hear of, was an indulgent being, who would overlook sin, and never
punish the transgressor. They wished to hear no more of the rigid and strict
requirements of the law—but to listen only to the soothing sounds of promise;
they were anxious that the terrible thunders of justice should die away midst
the soft whispers of mercy. They were determined to go on in sin, and therefore
desired, whatever might be "right things," to hear only smooth things, and to be
left to go on unmolested in their career of iniquity.

Happy would it be for multitudes, if this love of deception had been confined to
the Jews—if this demand for "smooth things" had been made only by them. But,
alas! they have many, very many followers under the present dispensation. The
faithful ministers of Jesus Christ meet with the same reception from many of
their hearers, as did the prophets of the older economy.

There are not lacking in our age many who are anxious to save their own souls
and those that hear them; who, in their solicitude to be clear from the blood of
all men, shun not to declare "the whole counsel of God." Their aim is not to
please men—but to profit their hearers; not to satisfy their taste, or amuse
their fancy, or lull them into a false peace, or wrap them up in unfounded
security—but to save them from the wrath to come. Hence, they are anxious to
convince them of sin, and by "the terrors of the Lord to persuade" them to urge
the all-important enquiry, "What shall I do to be saved?" They know that without
previous conviction, alarm, and penitence, there can be no true comfort and
therefore their aim is, like that of the skillful surgeon, to probe the wound
before they attempt to heal it. This many of their hearers cannot endure; they
want smooth things, not right things; they cannot bear to have their consciences
roused, their fears alarmed, and their minds rendered uneasy. They wish the
preacher to avoid all harsh themes, and confine himself to more agreeable and
palatable topics. The people to whom I here allude, are those people in our
congregations, who, though they attend an evangelical ministry, have never yet
been converted by the grace of God—but are still living either in open sin, or
predominant worldly-mindedness; who know that if religion is indeed what they
hear it often described, they can make no pretensions to it; who have no
intention of altering their course, and who wish, therefore, to be left to
pursue it, without being disturbed by the voice of ministerial faithfulness.

Churches should be purified as much as possible from all secularity, and
conducted as much as possible in simplicity and godly sincerity, without the
admixture of that fleshly wisdom which guides the affairs of this world. They
should be divested of earthly pomp, guided by men of piety, and most cautiously
preserved from that self-importance and self-dependence, which all imposing
organizations of numbers, wealth, and influence, are apt to produce.

True religion

True religion is . . .a principle of the heart; an element of the character; the
habit of thinking, feeling, and acting aright in all our social relations; the
basis of every virtue; the main prop of every excellence; the fear of the Lord,
by which men depart from evil; faith working by love; such a belief in the
gospel of Christ, as leads to a conformity to His example.

True religion, though founded on a belief of doctrines, and nourished by the
exercises of devotion—diffuses its influence over the entire character of man.

True religion is the belief, the love, the worship, the imitation of Jesus.

True religion is sound morality, animated and sanctified by the spirit of true
devotion to Christ.

True religion prescribes, not only homage to God, but follows him into the
domestic circle.

Imagining we are going on to heaven

"The human heart is more deceitful than anything else and desperately wicked!"
Jeremiah 17:9

Oh, the idea of imagining we are going on to heaven—when step by step we are
advancing to hell!

Is this possible? It is! And the very possibility should awaken our alarm.

Is it common? It is! And this should carry our solicitude to the highest pitch.

What did Christ say on this matter? Read with awe and trembling. "Not everyone
who says to me, ’Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who
does the will of My Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day,
’Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons
and perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ’I never knew you.
Away from me, you evildoers!’" Matthew 7:21-23.

Read, I say, this passage in which our Lord with His own hand, sounds the alarm
through the whole church. Ought you not to examine? Is not there need of it? Is
it not all but madness to go on without it? Mistake! What in such a matter as
salvation? Mistake! What in a matter in which an error will require an eternity
to understand, and an eternity to deplore it!

Very many know the theory of divine truth, without feeling its influence on the
heart, or exhibiting it in the conduct. They often see the right way; without
walking in it. Only those who are renewed and sanctified by the truth, will be
eternally saved.

A holy, moral, useful, happy man

Explain to them the moral attributes of the great GOD. . .His holiness as
opposed to all iniquity, His truth as manifested in the accomplishment of His
word His mercy which inclines Him to pity the miserable.

Endeavor to make them understand the exceeding sinfulness of SIN, as breaking
through all the obligations imposed upon the conscience by the majesty and
goodness of God. Strive to lead them to a knowledge of the total corruption of
their nature, as the source and spring of their actual transgressions. Unfold to
them their situation, as under the wrath of God on account of their sins. Show
them their inability, either to atone for their guilt or renovate their nature.

Lead them to CALVARY, and develop the design of the Savior’s death as a
sacrifice for sin, and teach them to rely upon His merits alone for salvation.

Direct them to the HOLY SPIRIT as the fountain of grace and strength for the
renewal of their hearts.

Lay before them all the branches of Christian DUTY; those which relate to God,
such as faith, repentance, love, obedience, and prayer; and those which relate
to man, as obedience to parents, honesty to their employers, kindness to all.
Enforce upon them the obligations of public worship.

Particularly impress upon them, that genuine religion, while it is founded on a
belief of God’s word, does not consist merely of abstract feelings, or
occasional duties, but in a principle of submission to the revealed will of
Jehovah, implanted deep in the human heart, pervading the conduct, and spreading
over the whole character, so as to form a holy, moral, useful, happy man.

The impious mask of a cowardly heart

A man says there is no God, because he wishes there were none. He scorns
spiritual religion, because spiritual religion condemns him. He is an infidel
because he is a sinner. He is a scoffer because he is an infidel.

The true and ultimate source of scoffing at true religion is an unrenewed,
unsanctified mind—a heart that hates God, and abhors his image.

The religion of the Bible is . . .too humbling for the pride of their intellect,
too holy for the corruptions of their heart, too strict and too rigid for their
indulgent lives, and they cannot endure it. And being unable to confound it by
logic, or overwhelm it by eloquence, they treat it with derision.

In some cases the scoffing may be traced up to fear, united with dislike. The
scorner secretly trembles at the idea of a God, and of a judgment to come. He
fears that there may be a reality in religion, and if there is—what is to become
of him! The poor creature, like a scared child whistling as he passes through a
graveyard to keep up his courage, or laughing at the story of a ghost, to
conceal the palpitations of his heart, ridicules true religion to allay, if
possible, the rising alarms of his conscience, and to avoid the terrors of his
affrighted imagination.

The sneering countenance is often the impious mask of a cowardly heart and of a
trembling conscience.

The abominable adage!

"Exhort the younger men to be sober-minded." Titus 2:6

There are many things which tend to nourish the love of sensual pleasure in the
youthful bosom. At their age care sits lightly on the heart, the passions are
strong, the imagination is lively, the health is good, the social impulse is
felt in all its energy, the attractions of friends are powerful; and this they
imagine is the ideal time for them to take their fill of pleasure. They think
that they shall settle down by and by, when the season of youth is past; and
that sobriety, morality, and religion will all come in the proper order of
nature.

Worldly pleasure, decked in the voluptuous attire and the gaudy ornaments of a
harlot, appears to their heated imagination, with all the attractive charms of a
most bewitching beauty. They yield themselves at once to her influence, and
consider her as abundantly able to afford them all the happiness they desire.
Their great concern is to gratify their senses. The soul and all its vast
eternal concerns is neglected for the pleasures of fleshly appetites!

We frequently hear the abominable adage, "Youth is the time for pleasure,
manhood is the time for business, and old age is the time for religion."

It is not possible for language to utter, or mind to conceive, a more gross or
shocking insult to God than this!—which is in effect saying, "when I can no
longer enjoy my lusts, or pursue my gains—then I will carry to God a body and
soul worn out in the service of sin, Satan, and the world!"

The monstrous wickedness and horrid impiety of this idea is enough, one would
think, when put clearly to him, to shock and terrify the most confirmed and
careless sinner in existence!

Thoughtless and sensual young man, who has no idea of happiness but as arising
from fleshly indulgence, and who is drinking continually the intoxicating cup of
worldly pleasure—pursue your course if you are determined on this mode of life;
gratify your appetites; indulge all your passions; deny yourself nothing; eat,
drink and be merry; disregard the admonitions of conscience, trample under foot
the authority of Scripture—but do not think that you shall always prosper in the
ways of sin, or carry forever that air of jollity and triumph.

The day of reckoning is at hand, when for all these things, you will be called
into judgment! God now witnesses, and takes account of all your ways, and will
one day call you to His judgment, and repay you according to your doings! "For
God will bring every act to judgment, including every hidden thing, whether good
or evil." (Ecclesiastes 12:14)

God’s flock

"I exhort the elders among you: shepherd God’s flock." (1 Peter 5:2)

The flock which is committed to their care is the God’s flock —which is thus
denominated to teach us that believers are the special property of Christ, which
He owns, loves, and protects—in distinction from the wicked (who, are a kind of
wild beasts in whom He has neither peculiar property nor pleasure). They are
thus denominated also, to teach us that Christians are not to live solitarily
and unconnected, but are to unite themselves with each other in visible
communion and brotherly love, and are to submit to the guidance and directions
of their great Shepherd, and in all things to manifest the simplicity,
harmlessness, and innocence of which the sheep is the natural emblem.

Handel’s "Messiah"

Concerning Handel’s "Messiah" with what sentiments may it be supposed the Son of
God beholds the scenes of His suffering life, atoning death, and final
appearance in judgment—blended with all the hilarity of a musical festival, and
sung by graceless men and women—for the entertainment of the multitude!

Let those whose spiritual vision is not quite obscured by their musical taste,
compare the scenes of an oratorio when "the Messiah" is being performed—and
those of the house of God when the Lord’s supper is celebrated—and remembering
that the subject is the same in both, let them ask if both can be right? Is the
cross on which the Savior loved and died rightly appropriated—when it is used
for the purposes of amusement, gaiety and fashionable vanity?

The subject of the "Messiah," as revealed in the Holy Scriptures, is given for
the purpose of bringing men to repentance, faith and salvation; to be the great
means, through faith, of overcoming the world with all its lusts of the flesh,
lusts of the eye, and the pride of life; to give a death blow to the love of the
world in the heart of man; and to subjugate the senses and the imagination to
unseen and eternal things.

While in Handel’s "Messiah", the cross of Christ, instead of crucifying us to
the world, and the world to us, is employed as an amusement to add new
attractions to earth, and to yield new gratifications to sense, and thus to make
man more effectually the captive of that world—of which he should seek by faith
to be the conqueror.

For what purpose is this ’sacred music’ performed? It is for amusement! Purely
for amusement! Is it, then, done, for the glory of God—to convert the most
solemn and sacred topics of divine truth into a source of public entertainment?
No! It is done to draw people together to hear the sufferings of the Messiah set
forth for much the same purpose as they are called to be entertained by a
dramatic representation of the sorrows of Hamlet or Romeo!

He will carry them in His bosom

"He will tend his flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs in His arms;
He will carry them in His bosom, and gently lead those that are with young."
Isaiah 40:11

He will carry them in His bosom—where He could not only hear, but feel every
bleat they uttered; and have all the tenderness of His own heart excited by the
anxious and fluttering pulsations of theirs!

See Him in the midst of his disciples . . .how feeble were their perceptions,
how weak their faith, how worldly their expectations, how slow their growth!

Yet how kindly did He bear with their dullness, and how gently did He chide
their imperfections.

Wealth

The responsibility attached to wealth seems to be poorly understood.

It should ever be borne in mind that the exercise of mercy and charity is
represented by our Lord in his description of the judgment day, as one of the
principal topics of scrutiny in that season of final retribution. What a
spectacle of horror and amazement will the rich man then present, who lavished
in selfish extravagance that princely fortune which was entrusted to him for the
benefit of society. Let such men read the parable of Dives and Lazarus—its
salutary and impressive warnings were delivered expressly for them!

Wealth, considered as a means of sensual gratification, ranks but one step above
the acorns of the swine; while as a means of relieving misery, wealth opens
sources of felicity, as lofty and sublime as the joy of angels!

Exhibit in their conduct

Those who profess to believe in the truth of Christianity, should be careful to
exhibit in their conduct . . .the purity, the benevolence, the meekness, and
humility of the gospel.

Let every Christian embody in his own character and conduct, the evidence of
Christianity, and prove that it is from heaven, by showing that it makes him
heavenly.

The ungodly should consider their dreadful situation, hastening . . .from
sinning to dying, from death to judgment, from judgment to the bottomless pit,
and then from age to age of torment without end or mitigation! They are kindling
for themselves a fire which shall burn to the lowest hell.

An unholy minister

An unholy minister is the most dreadfully guilty, and the most fatally
mischievous person in existence! He is a living curse, a walking pestilence,
diffusing a savor of death around him wherever he goes; from whom, as to any
voluntary association, every godly person should flee with greater horror than
from a person infected with the plague. His name is Apollyon—his work
destruction.

It is dreadful to reflect what multitudes are now in the bottomless pit, who
were conducted there by the damnable heresies of such men’s lives; from whose
imprecations, envenomed by despair, the guilty authors of their ruin will find
neither escape nor shelter through everlasting ages, but feel the guilt of blood
forever upon their wretched souls!

A mere pedestal for the preacher’s fame!

"We preach Christ crucified!" 1 Corinthians 1:23

From the cross, as the tree of life, hang in maturity and abundance—all those
fruits of grace which are necessary to the salvation of the soul.

Are we guilty—here is pardon.

Are we rebels against God—here is reconciliation.

Are we condemned—here is justification.

Are we unholy—here is sanctification.

Are we agitated with conscious guilt—here is peace for a wounded spirit.

My brethren in the ministry—the pulpit is intended to be a pedestal for the
cross. But alas! even the cross itself, it is to be feared, is sometimes used as
a mere pedestal for the preacher’s fame! We may roll the thunders of eloquence,
we may dart the coruscations of genius, we may scatter the flowers of poetry, we
may diffuse the light of science, we may enforce the precepts of morality from
the pulpit—but if we do not make Christ crucified the great subject our
preaching, we have forgotten our purpose, and shall do no good.

Satan trembles at nothing but the cross. And if we would destroy his power, and
extend that holy and benevolent kingdom of Jesus, it must be by means of the
cross.

"For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and Him
crucified. And I was with you in weakness, in fear, and in much trembling. My
speech and my proclamation were not with persuasive words of wisdom, but with a
demonstration of the Spirit and power." (1 Corinthians 2:2-4)

Fresh communications

The Holy Spirit is not only the efficient cause and author of our spiritual
life; but He is alsothe sustainer of it.

We need fresh communications of His grace every step of our course, to keep
before us . . .the glory of God as our center, rest, and end; the loveliness,
beauty, and preciousness of Christ; the evil of sin; the transcendent excellence
of holiness; the sublimity and importance of heaven, and eternal life.

The true believer . . .seeks God as his supreme end, enjoys God as his chief
good, obeys God as his Sovereign Ruler.

It is an act of amazing love that God should not only give us his Son—but his
Spirit also! That God should make a temple for the Holy Spirit in our hearts, is
a display of infinitely greater condescension, than for the greatest monarch
upon earth to take up his dwelling in a mud hut.

One thing is certain—you are a sinner, a poor, miserable, and perishing sinner!
The door of mercy is open, and you are welcome to enter in! You can go to God in
no other way, but as a sinner. God meets His repenting enemies, only at the
cross! "I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." Luke
5:32

No declension in piety

We are not to conclude that our piety is declining, merely because our feelings
are not so lively and flashy as they once were. If there is a growth . . .in
humility and meekness, in tenderness of conscience and self-denial, in a sense
of the value of Christ, in dependence upon the Spirit, there is no declension in
piety, although there may be less of vivid emotion than there once was.

Just as there is no decay of strength in the human body, where the sprightliness
and efflorescence of youth are gone, if the grave robustness of manhood remains.
Nor should the aged believer mistake the ’decay of nature’ for the ’decline of
grace’. He hears, he prays, he reads, he remembers, and enjoys with less ability
than he once did; but this is the effect of old age, and not of backsliding.

Declension in piety

There are three stages of departure from God— 1. spiritual declension 2. actual
backsliding 3. final apostasy

They are intimately connected, and lead on, unless stopped by divine grace, from
one to the other. There have been many people in these states in every age of
the church—there are some now. Professors are continually falling away from
Christ, some only in heart, others openly in conduct; some partially and for a
season, others totally and forever. The hopes of pastors and churches are
continually receiving the bitterest disappointment from the relapses of those
who "did run well." Like the blossoms in the spring, for a time they excited the
most pleasing anticipations—but a blight came on—the blossom went up as dust,
and the root appeared to be rottenness.

Declension in piety, means a diminution of its vigor at the heart; a loss of the
power of godliness, or, to use a scriptural phrase, "a leaving of our first
love." There is no immorality; no open sin; but an utter decay of pious
affection. The whole amount of piety that is left—is cold, heartless, dead
formality. The fundamental doctrines and precious truths of the Gospel, though
not renounced, are not relished and fed upon with that eager appetite, keen
relish, and exquisite zest which they once were. The means of grace, though not
neglected—are mere forms, imparting no quickening power, and yielding no
spiritual enjoyment. Pious affections of peace, joy, love, delight in God, and
hope of heaven—are almost extinguished. The vigor of watchfulness, spirituality
of mind, and the severity of mortification of sin are relaxed—under the idea
that so much strictness in religion is not necessary. The tenderness of the
conscience is blunted—and little sins of temper, of the heart and the tongue,
are committed with far less repugnance than formerly. Besetting sins, once
nearly subdued—acquire fresh life and power. In short, piety has lost its hold
upon the mind, the heart, and conscience, as an elevating, sanctifying, and
satisfying reality. Delight in God, the love of Christ, the joyful hope of
heaven, have well near ceased!

Those in affliction

Those in affliction should restrain their grief, and not be swallowed up of
overmuch sorrow. An excessive degree of distress, a refusal to be comforted, a
disposition to nourish grief—is a temper dishonorable to a Christian, who, in
the darkest and dreariest scenes of human life, ought never to appear like those
who are without God and without hope.

PATIENCE must have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and entire, lacking
nothing.

RESIGNATION must not only suppress the murmur, but dictate words of confidence
and peace. "Though He slays me, yet will I trust in him," must be your
declaration, as well as your purpose.

FAITH—strong, steady faith—which cleaves closer to Christ, in proportion as
other things fail, must be in exercise.

HOPE, as the anchor of your soul, must keep your little bark safe amidst the
storm.

MEEKNESS must put forth all its power and beauty in preventing peevishness, and
producing a sweetness of temper in the midst of perplexing and ruffling
circumstances.

ASSURANCE that all things are working together for good, should bear the soul
above the low and cloudy horizon of present trials, and enable it to spot
eternal sunshine beyond the storm; and rendered the brighter by the gloom, from
the midst of which it is contemplated.

While at the same time, a deep concern should be manifested for a sanctified use
of every affliction. Concern should be manifested . . . to glorify God in the
fires, to have every corruption mortified, to have every grace strengthened; to
die to earth, to live for heaven.

A showy and extravagant style of living!

"If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where
Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are
above, not on things that are on earth." (Colossians 3:1-2)

Avoid, I beseech you, a showy and extravagant style of living! Do not be
ambitious of obtaining . . .a large, luxurious house, elegant furniture, fine,
expensive clothing, and a country residence.

What are these things to a man whose heart should be set on things that are
above, not on things that are on earth?

The worm of pride feeds upon the root of piety! Pride will prevent that deep
humiliation before God, that self-abhorrence, that self-annihilation, that
entire dependence, and sense of ill-desert which are essential to the spirit of
true piety; and, at the same time, pride will call into active operation many
tempers most inimical to godliness.

Prosperity

"Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in
riches." Psalms 73:12

Worldly-mindedness is a very common fruit of prosperity.

O how difficult is it to maintain this pure, spiritual, unearthly, heavenly
taste—in the midst of prosperity! How difficult is it to help loving the
world—when it puts on all its charms, smiles upon us, and caresses us!

Many prosperous Christians are miserably low in spiritual piety, have little
enjoyment of God, and little communion with Christ.

Prosperity, by multiplying the sources of earthly gratification, tends to take
us off from those which are spiritual and divine.

Prosperity tends . . .to carnalize our affections, to vitiate our holy taste,
and to wither our devotion.

Nothing is more beautiful in our world than the manifest association of humble
piety and temporal prosperity; it is the temper of heaven united with the
possession of earth. The man who makes this attainment, is great in the kingdom
of God. His prosperity is maintained without injury to himself. Let the
prosperous Christian aim at this beautiful combination.

"Keep vanity and lies far away from me. Don’t give me either poverty or riches.
Feed me only the food I need." Proverbs 30:8

Inconsistent professors

"We exhorted each one of you and encouraged you and charged you to walk in a
manner worthy of God, who calls you into his own kingdom and glory." 1
Thessalonians 2:12

Multitudes have staked the truth of Christianity on the conduct of its
professors.

Inconsistent professors, therefore, are the abettors of infidelity and
irreligion. They are mere caricatures of piety, which they represent with
hideous and distorted features, and commend to the ridicule and disgust of
onlookers.

Inconsistent professors are traitors in the camp, and betray the cause which
they profess to defend. They are destroyers of other men’s souls! No sins have
so much power to do mischief as theirs; and none have been so destructive. Hell
swarms with souls whom inconsistent professors have hurried on to perdition!

The faith, and love, and holiness of believers, are one of God’s ordinances for
the conversion of sinners, and it is an ordinance that has been greatly blessed.
The beauties of holiness displayed in all their symmetry and harmony, as they
are embodied in the character of eminent Christians, have been employed by the
Spirit of God to soften prejudice, and subdue enmity. Many who turned with
disgust from religion as it was seen disfigured and deformed in some
inconsistent professors; have, by a more pure and lovely manifestation of
holiness, been charmed into admiration, affection, and imitation.

Our influence!

The influence of one lively, ardent, active Christian, is a blessing to the
whole church of which he is a member. His prayers at the meetings, and his
conversation in the companies of Christian friends, tend not only to stop the
spreading lukewarmness of many others; but to kindle a similar spirit to his
own, in the hearts of those with whom he associates. He keeps up the spiritual
atmosphere of the church, and makes it amiable, spiritual and heavenly.

While on the other hand, the influence of one worldly minded, convivial
professor, whose spiritual affections, if not wholly extinguished, are
smouldering under a heap of earthly cares and tastes—depresses and chills the
piety of all who come near him. He is . . .a hindrance to pious conversation, an
interruption to the fellowship of the saints, an extinguisher upon the devotion
of the church.

However profitable the fellowship may have been before he entered the room, he
soon contrives, by anecdotes, politics, or business, to turn the current into
some low and earthly channel.

It is of immense consequence that we should all consider the effect which our
influence has upon others. Our influence is always acting upon others; and their
influence is always acting upon us! This is a solemn consideration, which we
should never forget for a single hour. This applies universally. We are all
perpetually sending forth, and receiving influence.

An incarnation of love

Jesus Christ was an incarnation of love in our world. He was love living,
breathing, speaking, acting among men!

His birth was the nativity of love.

His sermons the words of love.

His miracles the wonders of love.

His tears the meltings of love.

His crucifixion the agonies of love.

His resurrection the triumph of love.

A stronger and a holier affection

Christian! Would you be crucified to the world, and have the world crucified to
you? Would you indeed, and in truth, have the spirit of the world cast out of
you? Would you cease to be characterized as ’minding earthly things’?

Go daily by sacred meditation, to Mount Calvary, and while all the mysteries of
redeeming love, as concentrated in the cross, there meet the eye of faith—and as
the visions of celestial glory, seen most distinctly from that spot, attract and
fix the transported gaze of hope—you will see the beauty of the earth fade away
before you, amidst the splendor of a more excellent glory, and feel the love of
the world die within you, under the power of a stronger and a holier affection.

The neglect of domestic piety

There is probably scarcely any deficiency of the church in the present day, more
apparent than the neglect of domestic piety.

Family prayer is not performed with that constancy, solemnity, and fervor, which
is calculated to interest and to edify.

Parental authority is not maintained with that steadiness which is adopted to
inspire respect, and that affection which is likely to secure obedience.

As to the judicious, diligent, and engaging Biblical instruction, which is
necessary to inform the mind, to enlighten the conscience, and to form the
character; it is in some families almost entirely neglected.

Far more solicitude is felt, and far more pains are taken by many, to educate
their children for this world than for the future eternal world; and to fit them
to act their part well for time, than to prepare them for the scenes of
eternity.

In many Christian homes, family piety is but the form of godliness—without its
power.

The religion of today has lost something of its steadiness, its seriousness, and
its dignity; and has acquired too much of the flutter and the vanity of a thing
of fashion and excitement. True religion ought to be sustained, in all its
exercises and habits, with an appropriate seriousness, dignity, and
conscientiousness.

A substitute for personal piety?

Zeal in Christian service cannot be a substitute for personal piety. The
attendance at the committee cannot be an excuse for neglecting the closet. The
financial support of a church can be no apology for neglecting to mortify a
corruption. Yet there is a tendency in this day to forget this. There is an
imminent danger of losing sight of religion as a personal, private, and
individual concern. We are too much drawn away from our closets and our own
hearts, as we lose the habit of silent meditation.

We are so accustomed to excitement, that there is a dullness in solitude.
Private prayer is neglected for that which is social; the Bible is neglected for
the sermon; and the closet is neglected for the committee-room. The great system
of revealed truth is not sufficiently brought before us in its grandeur, glory,
and demands—as a matter for our individual contemplation, reception, and
application.

The evidence of genuine piety is to be found in . . .real humility,
self-distrust, hungering and thirsting after righteousness, sorrow for sin, and
a continual effort to regulate your thoughts, feelings, and conduct by the Word
of God. Genuine piety will not thrive and increase without effort—but is of so
tender and delicate a nature as to require great, constant, and persevering
concern,watchfulness, and care.

He will not forget the lambs

(John Angell James, "The Christian Professor")

"He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He will gather the lambs in his arm,
and carry them in his bosom." (Isaiah 40:11)

Are you alarmed at the difficulties and dangers of the wilderness way? Consider
that you enjoy the notice, the love, intercession, and the support of the Great
and Good Shepherd, who gathers the lambs in His arms, and carries them in His
bosom.

He will not forget the lambs—their feeble bleat attracts His notice, their
helplessness draws His attention, and for them he puts forth all His pastoral
kindness and skill.

Cunning artifices, deep devices, artful machinations

It is one of the cunning artifices, the deep devices, the artful machinations of
Satan—to lead men into self-deception, when he can no longer hold them in
careless indifference; to ruin their souls in the church, when he cannot effect
it in the world; to lull them asleep by the privileges of church fellowship,
when he cannot continue their slumber amidst the pleasures of sin.

O how many is he leading captive this way? How many is he conducting to
perdition, whom he has first blindfolded with the bandage of a false profession?
How many are there in all our churches, who are in this dreadful state!

Consider Jesus!

"Therefore, holy brothers, you who share in a heavenly calling, consider Jesus,
the apostle and high priest of our confession." Hebrews 3:1.

Jesus was so dead to this world, that He renounced wealth, rank, ease and fame.

Jesus was so holy that He could appeal to the most malignant of his foes for the
sinless purity of His conduct.

Jesus was so submissive to the divine will, that He drank the deepest, fullest,
bitterest cup of human woe, without a murmur.

Jesus was so meek and lowly, as to bear the greatest injuries and insults with
unruffled serenity and placability.

Jesus was so full of benevolence, as to pray for His foes, to die for them, and
save them.

Yes, we say to the world, "Look at Jesus of Nazareth in His holy and beneficent
career, or in his ignominious and agonizing death—see him whose whole character
was a compound of purity and love—there is our model."

We confess that the salvation of immortal souls is the most momentous interest
in the universe; and that our time, influence, talents and property—are at
Christ’s command.

We profess that we have received Christ as the end of our very existence.

We profess that we have ceased to live for wealth, ease, or reputation, as the
supreme object of pursuit.

We profess that we receive Christ as our pattern and example, and that we are
determined, as God shall assist us—to conform ourselves to Him in our spirit,
temper, and conduct.

Let your light shine!

"You are to live blameless and pure lives, as children of God without fault in a
crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe."
Php 2:15

There is an ineffable beauty in the Christian character, as delineated by our
Lord Jesus Christ in His personal ministry, and by His holy apostles.

A Christian ought to be a character of universal loveliness and holiness. He not
only seeks freedom from and abhorrence of greater sins, but adds a sensitiveness
to lesser sins, and a studious effort after universal purity. Perfection should
be our wish and our aim. A Christian is not to allow himself to practice any
degree of any sin; and is to seek every possible degree of every holy virtue.

"You are the light of the world. Let your light shine before men, that they may
see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Oh, that dreadful future!

There are three questions which every considerate man will propose to himself in
reference to his present state of being. What am I? Where did I come? What is my
purpose here on earth?

And there are three more which he cannot help sometimes asking concerning the
future. Where am I going? What will I be there? How shall I prepare for
eternity?

There, before us, at no great distance, is the grave—into the solemn and
mysterious obscurity of which, neither sense nor reason can dart one
illuminating ray; nor can they extort from its sullen silence one whisper of
information.

Oh, that dreadful future!

Into what will that one first step from the ’stage of earthly existence’ plunge
us? To unaided human reason, the future is an unbounded, mystifying, starless,
midnight darkness—without one luminous point through infinite space!

What shall we be in eternity? Who shall reply? Think how profoundly this
question, this mystery, concerns us—and in comparison with this—what are to us
all questions of all sciences? What to us, are all the scientific researches
into the material nature? What to us, are all the investigations into the
history of past ages? What to us, are all the future career of events in the
progress of states and empires? What to us, what shall become of this globe
itself, or of all the systems of the universe? What, where, shall WE be
ourselves, is the matter of surpassing, infinite interest. This an issue of such
great magnitude and solemnity, that it transcends and overwhelms our utmost
faculty of thought!

Man is a creature capable of happiness or misery, and tastes much of each on
earth—and is anxious to know which will be his lot beyond the grave! He is
conscious of sin, and feels solicitous to be informed whether the consequences
of his sin will pursue him into an invisible state!

The world by its wisdom, knew not God, nor immortality, nor heaven. Unaided
human reason, we repeat, never did, never can, assure us that there is a future
state at all. If it could ascertain this, it could not tell us whether it is a
limited or an endless duration. If If it could ascertain this, and it were
certain that there is to be everlasting existence, it would be at a loss to tell
us whether it were a state of unmixed bliss, or misery, or a mixture of both. If
it could ascertain this, it would still be unable to inform us how eternal
felicity is to be obtained, and eternal misery avoided. Unaided human reason
fails at every step!

The whole world is longing for an immortality to relieve them from the burden of
. . . their sufferings, their cares, and their labors.

"And now He has made all of this plain to us by the coming of Christ Jesus, our
Savior, who broke the power of death and showed us the way to everlasting life
through the Gospel!" 2 Timothy 1:10

What are all the volumes which philosophy ever wrote, compared to these few
golden sentences! By the cross of Christ, the dark screen that blocked our view,
and hid the realms of glory from our sight, is rent asunder, and the vista of
heaven and eternal ages is laid open to the eye of faith!

Immortality, seen only as a dim object of hope, amid the midnight darkness of
Paganism, and only as a dim object of faith amid the twilight of Judaism—is
beheld amid the noontide splendor of Christianity in its magnitude and grandeur,
as at once the object of a strong and steady faith and a lively and a saving
hope.

It is hard to conceive that I, born after the manner of the brute creation; and
like them sustained by the earth—a poor, frail, feeble creature of yesterday,
and crushed before the moth—who, after a few fleeting years at most, shall
return to the earth from which I sprang, and seem to be utterly blotted out from
existence—shall continue to exist in some mode, and in some scene of existence,
for millions of ages! How utterly surpassing all this to reason, and almost
incredible to faith, when it contrasts this wondrous eternal existence—with the
present little, insignificant, momentary creature—who flutters out his tiny
being in this present, temporal, earthly, little world!

Everlasting felicity is something so vast, so wondrous, so magnificent—that
unaided human reason never could have concluded that this gift, so rich, so
splendid, so extraordinary, could be bestowed on a sinful child of dust!

The great mass of professing Christians, do not really believe in eternal
felicity. Their conduct is utterly at variance with such a belief. Is the
impress of immortality upon their character or their conduct? Are they not
infinitely more swayed by the present time—than a future eternity? Has not earth
infinitely greater attractions for them than heaven? Is not all their labor
bestowed upon the present—while the endless future is neglected and forgotten?
Immortality is not really believed by the great mass of professing Christians!
It is a mere name, an opinion, a speculation; anything but a deep practical
conviction!

There is a tearless world

Many are the afflictions even of the righteous. Though they are the children of
God and the heirs of immortality, even they are not exempted from the common lot
of humanity, as described by the patriarch of Uz, where he says, "Man is born to
trouble as the sparks fly upwards!’’

There is a tearless world—but it is reached by a valley of tears! As those who
are exposed to such a variety and such a constant recurrence of trials, we need
some principle to sustain us under them. We must find some source of
consolation.

We are in danger in times of trouble, of resorting to many things that are
inimical to our peace and to our holiness. Afflictions are not only hurtful in
themselves, but are likely also, if care be not taken, to produce evil. They not
only always lead to sorrow—but often to sin. A wounded spirit has frequently
been the occasion of a burdened conscience. The wormwood and the gall of sorrow
have fermented into the poison of iniquity, by impatience under the hand of God,
and by revengeful feelings towards the human instruments of our griefs. How apt
are we to sink into . . .heartless inactivity, hopeless despondency, sinful
distrust and overwhelming sorrow.

In the dark and gloomy night of tribulation, when the sun of our prosperity has
set; when the clouds of adversity have so overspread the heavens that not a star
twinkles; and the tempest rages—how much do we need something to cheer us,
something to keep down those unbelieving thoughts of God and His Providence
which are then so apt to rise, and to relieve that intense wretchedness which
then too often takes full possession of the soul.

One sinner!

"I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance." Luke 5:32

"This man welcomes sinners and eats with them!" Luke 15:2

It is a sight . . .for heaven to wonder at, for angels to rejoice over, for
devils to hate, for man to imitate, for and God to delight in; to see a poor
creature polluted with almost every sin, broken-hearted yet not despairing;
penitent and turning with loathing from his sins, and yet confidently relying
upon the mercy of God in Christ, for a full, free, and cordial forgiveness!

"There is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who
repents." Luke 15:10


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  CHAPTER 98: 07.06.     VOLUME 6 CONT'D
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Pleased or profited?

"The word preached did not profit them." Hebrews 4:2

What countless millions of sermons seem to be preached in vain, so far as
regards any appreciable result! What a small amount of profiting in the way of
increased holiness!

To be truly profited from the hearing of sermons, is to have Scriptural truth
deeply enstamped upon the heart and visibly upon character; the transformation
of the whole heart and soul into the image of God and the mind of Christ; the
cultivation of a godly temperament; and a fitness for glory. This, and this
only, is profiting from the preached Word.

Multitudes are pleased by sermons, who are not in the smallest degree profited
by them!

The fault is partly to be ascribed to the preachers. Either their aim is often
something else than the profiting their hearers, or else they know not how to
accomplish this. One would suppose it impossible to hear a great deal of today’s
evangelical preaching of this age, without asking the question, "Who can be
profited by this? What is there in all this, to instruct, sanctify, and comfort
believers? It is all very fine—there is much to please the intellect, to gratify
the taste, to exercise the imagination; but what spiritual edification is there
in it?" It is my sad and serious conviction, that the evangelical pulpit is
losing its power, just because it is losing sight of its object and its aim. A
philosophized Christianity is finding its way into our pulpits; which, aided by
a rationalistic taste, and set off by an aspiring intellectuality, is seducing
the church from the simplicity that is in Christ Jesus!

The goal of most preachers is to please their hearers; not to profit their
souls.

May Christian parents pray for the salvation of their children?

We must consider what these prayers for their conversion imply. They must
proceed from a heart that really desires and longs for their conversion. It
should be an intense yearning—a longing in some measure proportioned to the
object itself. Their children’s conversion must be the first object concerning
them, to which all others must be subordinated. Their children’s conversion must
be sought by all the appropriate means of godly training and example. Everything
must be done that would conduce to their conversion to God, and everything kept
away that would hinder it. There must not only be instruction—but in the fullest
sense of the term, godly education. The character must be formed; and in order
to this, the parent must present a model of exemplary piety in himself. And with
these conditions, the father may go and pray for his children’s conversion, and
expect their conversion. Prayers so presented and so followed up, will very
generally be answered.

It is, no doubt, a fact that very many do pray and see little result of their
prayers—their children do not become godly. Why? I would by no means suggest
that it is in all cases to be traced up to parental neglect. I would not pour
vinegar upon the wounds of many a lacerated heart, bleeding under the misconduct
of a prodigal son, by asserting that parental sins have led to this. But at the
same time, there can be little doubt of the general principle—that godly
training, carried on from the dawn of reason, through childhood and youth—with
wisdom, uniformity, consistency, and affection—enforced by an eminently holy and
consistent example—and sanctified by believing prayer—would be followed, in most
cases, with the blessed result of their conversion to God.

God has no speechless children!

Nothing seems too hard or too difficult for prayer to do. Prayer has a kind of
omnipotence; for it moves the hand which moves all things!

Faith and prayer are the two arms by which the soul hangs upon the neck of
infinite Love, and grasps the hand of omnipotent Power!

Prayer is the homage of a dependent creature paid to the author of its being,
and the source of its happiness.

Prayer has a moral reflex influence on the soul of him who presents it, making
him the holier by his own devotions.

Prayer is a relief and comfort to the troubled soul.

Prayer is the communion of the regenerated soul with its Divine Parent.

Prayer is God’s own instituted means of obtaining blessings from Him, the
Fountain of life.

Prayer must be sincere—we must really be desirous to obtain the blessings we
ask.

Prayer must be holy—for if we "regard iniquity in our heart, the Lord will not
hear us."

Prayer must be pious—seeking to obtain blessings, not for our own gratification
merely—but for God’s glory.

Prayer must be importunate—for it is the effectual, fervent prayer of a
righteous man, that prevails.

Prayer must be submissive—asking only for whatit is God’s will to bestow.

Prayer must be in love—for if our brother has anything against us, we must first
go and be reconciled to our brother.

Prayer must be reverent—for our God is a consuming fire.

Prayer must be humble—for we are base, and sinful, and unworthy to lift up our
eyes to heaven.

Prayer must be persevering—for men ought always to pray, and not to faint.

Prayer must be particular—for generalities mean little or nothing.

Prayer must be universal—entering into everything, all the concerns of life, all
the means of grace.

Prayer must be of all kinds—social, domestic, private, spontaneous.

Prayer must be grateful—abounding in thanksgiving.

Prayer must be expectant—waiting and watching for answers.

Prayer must be believing—we must ask in faith.

Prayer must be consistent with the Word of God —we may ask for everything God
has promised.

Singularly, solemnly, and perilously critical

"Everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome
the world, even our faith." 1 John 5:4

The situation and circumstances of the Christian during his state of discipline
and probation upon earth, are singularly, solemnly, and perilously critical. His
attention is divided between two worlds. He is placed amid the scenes, the
duties, the possessions, the trials of one world, all of which are ever
appealing to the senses, and urging their claims upon the faculties and
instincts of his nature; claims which he cannot, dare not, altogether resist or
neglect.

And yet amid these earthly objects always present to him, he is supremely to
value, pursue, and enjoy the objects of another, eternal world, of which he
knows nothing but by report.

He must not omit the just and proper interests of this present life, to which he
is related by his both various and tender ties; and yet he must regard,
practically and constantly, as his highest interest, the life that is to come.
He must, to a certain extent, attend to the things on earth, and yet his
affections must be set on things in heaven. The visible must not be neglected,
yet the invisible must be supremely regarded. The temporal must be attended to
in due season and measure, and yet the eternal must predominate.

Mortification and vivification

Mortification of sin is but half the work a Christian has to do; for there is
also vivification of graces, which is the other half.

No man ploughs his field, or tills his garden, merely to kill weeds—but to sow
corn and to plant flowers.

A room may be clean—and yet empty.

It is not enough for our hearts to be swept of sin—unless they be also furnished
with graces.

A man may not in disposition be a tiger or a demon—and yet he may not be a saint
or an angel.

Now our religion requires not only putting away our pride, our malice, our
covetousness, and our injustice—but also cultivating humility, liberality, and
love.

True religion is of an aspiring nature, requiring us to proceed from grace to
grace . . to faith adding virtue, to virtue adding patience, to patience adding
temperance, to temperance adding godliness, to godliness adding
brotherly-kindness, and to brotherly-kindness adding love.

Thus ascending by degrees, until at length the top of the lofty staircase
reaches to heaven, and lands the soul so qualified in the mansions of glory!

Nothing but faith can enable the soul to accomplish this; and this it does, by
obtaining through Christ that aid of the Holy Spirit, by whom alone our good
works can be accomplished.

Earth would reflect the face of heaven!

"Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.
Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record
of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice but rejoices
whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always
hopeful, and endures through every circumstance." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

These few verses are worth incalculably more than all the volumes the pen of
moral philosophy ever wrote! What a happy world, how nearly resembling heaven,
we would live in—if this were the rule of conduct everywhere, always, in all
things, and for all men. Earth would reflect the face of heaven, even as in the
mirror of a peaceful lake, the quiet, noiseless, blue sky is to be seen.

We must love all for whom Christ died

"God is love, and all who live in love, live in God, and God lives in them." 1
John 4:16

Realizing the love which Christ has towards His children, viewing them as the
purchase of His blood and the objects of His tenderest affection—our hearts will
by a kind of necessity, be knit to them. Every fresh view of the cross will
endear them to our hearts.

How frequently, how variously, and how earnestly are we enjoined both by our
Lord, and by that disciple whom Jesus loved, and who by leaning on His bosom
seemed to have caught most of His spirit—to love our brethren.

Love to the brethren is the law of Christ’s kingdom, "This is my commandment,
that you love one another."

Love to the brethren is the badge of discipleship, "Hereby shall all men know
that you are my disciples, if you love one another."

Love to the brethren is the evidence of conversion, "We know that we have passed
from death unto life, because we love the brethren."

Love to the brethren is the grand inference from the cross, "Beloved, if God so
loved us—we ought also to love one another."

Love to the brethren is . . .the natural yearning of the renewed heart; the
instinctive promptings of the new nature; the reaching forth of the arm too
feeble and too short to clasp the neck of the Divine Father, to entwine around
His image in His children!

Why is it that the children of God do not love one another more, and allow such
comparatively trifling matters to alienate them from each other? How is it that
sectarianism gains such an ascendancy over the members of the redeemed family,
and introduces so much coldness, distance, and even hostility?

We must love all for whom Christ died.

Did we more powerfully realize the fact that . . .Jesus has died for us all,
Jesus loves us all, Jesus claims us all, Jesus delights in us all; would not the
effect of this persuasion be to check the progress of alienation and draw us
closer to each other?

When the full power of the cross is felt in the hearts of believers—when all the
constraining influence of the love of Christ is experienced—then will we be
rooted and grounded in love.

"Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue; but with actions and in
truth." 1 John 3:18

Faith overcomes the love of worldly things

"Everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome
the world, even our faith." 1 John 5:4

Faith overcomes the love of worldly things. That eager ambition after wealth and
affluence, for the sake of the luxuries and splendors which it enables its
possessor to command—is transmuted by faith, into a desire to give.

Instead of an anxiety to obtain . . .noble mansions, elegant furniture, handsome
equipages, expensive entertainments, and all the other luxuries of taste and
fashion; the followers of Jesus should be distinguished by an obvious simplicity
of habit and living.

Many professors spend too much upon selfish luxuries. Followers of Jesus should
shrink their luxuries, that they may enlarge their charities. Frugality of
living, should provide resources for liberality to those in need.

Nominalists, evangelical formalists, and legalistic pharisees!

"Not everyone who says to me, ’Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven,
but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me
on that day, ’Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name
drive out demons and perform many miracles?’ Then I will tell them plainly, ’I
never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!’" Matthew 7:21-23

These are words solemn enough to fill the whole church with anxiety and alarm.
How prevalent, according to this passage, is self-deception! MANY will say. How
far it may be carried—even to the judgment tribunal! How unlikely are the
subjects of it—professors, preachers, workers of miracles!

I tremble as I write! I tremble for multitudes all around!

Never, no never, were professors more in danger of self deception than in this
age. If the standard of true religion is the New Testament, then a great
proportion of the members of all our churches cannot be true Christians—but are
merely nominalists, evangelical formalists, and legalistic pharisees!


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  CHAPTER 99: 07.07.     VOLUME 7
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JEWELS from JAMES (Choice devotional selections from the works of John Angell
James)

God’s hatred of sin

The death of Christ, apprehended by faith, presents the strongest motives to
holiness—by setting forth in the most vivid and striking manner . . .the
holiness and justice of God; His determination to punish transgression; the
immutable authority of the Divine law; the evil nature of sin; and the
fearfulness of falling into the hands of the living God.

Not all the judgments God ever inflicted—nor all the threatenings he ever
denounced, give such an impressive warning against sin, and admonition to
righteousness—as the death of Christ.

The torments of the bottomless pit are not so dreadful a demonstration of God’s
hatred of sin, as the agonies of the cross!

Justification

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God
through our Lord Jesus Christ." Romans 5:1

Justification is the opposite to condemnation.

Justification is act of God’s boundless mercy in forgiving all the
transgressions of the penitent believer, for the sake of atoning sacrifice of
His beloved Son; and restoring the once guilty transgressor to the favor of God,
and the hope of eternal life.

The ground on which justification proceeds, is the death of Christ as an atoning
sacrifice for sin.

The the source from which justification flows, is the mercy of God.

The instrumental cause or means of justification, is faith in Christ.

"Not by works of righteousness which we have done—but according to His mercy He
saved us." Titus 3:5

Of little use

"Faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by works, is dead." James 2:17

True religion begins in right believing and goes on to right doing; and right
believing must, through the whole of the Christian life, be the guide of right
doing.

Faith is the root, out of which grows the whole tree of our godliness—its trunk,
its branches, its leaves, and its fruit. It is faith which, striking its fibers
into the Word of God as its proper soil, draws up the moisture which nourishes
it, and which has first come down from heaven. It is only as we understand this,
that we can begin or continue in a course of true, practical, and experimental
religion.

To merely understand the grand truths of Scripture, is of little use—unless they
produce . . .repentance, faith, love, and holiness.

That is not right faith which does not lead to practice; and that is not a right
practice which does not spring from faith.

A robust and healthful piety

There is such a thing as the spiritual life. A religious profession is nothing
apart from it. Without life, however correct may be its outward form and
expression, it is but a picture or a statue. It may be a beautiful one, but it
is dead! Faith is the expression of spiritual life, or rather it is the
principle of life itself which develops in all other expressions of it. The
spiritual life is subject to all the varieties which mark the course of our
physical vitality; and hence the reality of what is called ’experimental
religion’ or ’religious experience’. There is perhaps no subject less
understood, or more abused, than this.

Man is a being possessed of the various faculties of intellect, will, passions,
and conscience. True religion is designed to influence all these, for it takes
the whole soul under its guidance, influence, and impulsion. A robust and
healthful piety gives . . .light to the intellect, determination to the will,
emotion to the heart, tenderness to the conscience, and purity to the
imagination.

True piety brings out the effect of this joint operation of the soul in all the
beauties of a holy life. It falls from heaven upon the whole soul like the solar
ray upon the prism, whichdivides and distributes the distinct and separate
colors over the whole glassy substance. But men are apt to distort this
beautiful consummation, and represent religion too much as consisting only, or
in the predominance, of one color.

In true godliness, there must be some great truths received in the exercise of
intelligent faith upon the mind. These must be felt in their influences upon the
affections, and carried out in practical and visible operation in the life. It
is the glory of Christianity that it addresses itself to all our faculties; it
meets us in all our changeful circumstances; and is adapted to all our
conditions of existence.

Preach louder than a thousand voices

There is nothing now so much needed by and for Christianity, as an earnest
exhibition, demonstration and manifestation of Christ’s own teachings in His
Sermon upon the Mount, founded on the apostle’s doctrine of justification by
faith. This, exhibited by the church in the sight of all the world, would . . .
preach louder than a thousand voices; be more eloquent than ten thousand
volumes; carry a deeper conviction than the most conclusive logic; do more to
recommend true Christian doctrine than the most powerful and attractive
rhetoric.

The unbroken peace of our churches

What we need to preserve the unbroken peace of our churches, is a more distinct
recognition and a more powerful influence of the principles of the gospel; more
humility, more spirituality, more zeal for the divine glory.

We often carry into the sanctuary, and into the church, our pride, our
self-will, our personal taste. That spirit of mutual submission, brotherly love,
and surrender of our own gratification to the good of others which the Word of
God enjoins, would keep the church always happy and harmonious. But instead of
seeking the good of the whole, the feeling of too many of our members may be
thus summarily expressed, "I will have my way!" Such a spirit is a source of all
the evils to which our churches are ever exposed, and of which it must be
confessed they are but too frequently the miserable victims.

Cherishing a viper in its bosom!

To allow sin to be committed, without being noticed and removed, is displeasing
in the sight of God. Nothing can be conceived of, more likely to grieve the Holy
Spirit, or to induce Him to withdraw his gracious influence from a church, than
a neglect of scriptural discipline. When the church neglects to discipline its
sinning members . . .backsliders are encouraged to go farther astray; hypocrites
are patronized in their self-delusion; the ruin of men’s souls abetted; the
church is corrupted; and the honor of Christianity is compromised.

When a church neglects Scriptural discipline, it is cherishing a viper in its
bosom!

He has some secret source of happiness

It is highly incumbent upon Christians, to take care against a worldly spirit.
They are in extreme peril of losing the power of godliness from their hearts,
and joining the number of those, of whom it is said, in the expressive language
of Paul, that "they mind earthly things!"

Such earthlings look upon the possession of wealth as "the one thing needful."
Wealth is their chief object of pursuit, the chief source of happiness. Nothing
modifies or mitigates their desire for riches. They are of the earth, earthly!

Now certainly a Christian is, or ought to be, of another spirit than this! He
should be industrious, frugal, and persevering in his attention to the concerns
of this world. But still there should be in his mind, an ultimate and supreme
regard for the possession of everlasting life. He ought not to be slothful in
business; but then he must be fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. He should be
seen to unite the ’diligent worker’ and ’sincere Christian’—and to be busy for
both worlds.

The men of this world should be constrained to say of him, "This man is as
attentive to business, and as diligent in it as we are; but we can perceive in
all he does, an inflexible regard to morality, and an invariable reference to
piety. We can discover no lack of diligence or prudence; but it is perfectly
evident, that his heart and highest hope are in heaven. He is neither so elated
in prosperity, nor so depressed in adversity, as we are. He has some secret
source of happiness, of which we are not possessed! His eye is upon some driving
force,which we do not recognize."

What a testimony!

Who can obtain a higher one?

Who should seek less?

No prevalence of ’custom’ can make that right, which in itself is wrong. The
standard of a Christian is the Bible; and whatever is opposed to that, he must
avoid and abhor.

Young Christians should be very watchful against the sins to which the ardor and
inexperience of their years may expose them. They should flee youthful lusts,
and be very cautious to abstain from vanity and self-conceit.

That Cain-like spirit!

"Am I my brother’s keeper?" Genesis 4:9

This was an inquiry suitable enough in the lips of a murderer—but most
unsuitable and inconsistent from a Christian. Love should induce us to WATCH
over one another. We are brought into fellowship for the very purpose of being
keepers of each other. We are to watch over our brethren—and admonish and
reprove them as circumstances may require.

I do not mean that we should pry into each other’s secrets, or be busy-bodies in
other men’s matters—for that is forbidden by God and abominable in the sight of
man. Much less are they to assume authority over each other, and act the part of
proud and tyrannical inquisitors. But still we are to "exhort one another daily,
lest any be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin." We are not to allow sin
to be committed, or duty to be omitted by a brother, without affectionately
admonishing him. What can be more incumbent, more obligatory, than this? Can we
indeed love anyone, and at the same time see him do that which we know will
injure him—without entreating him to desist? "Brethren, if any man is overtaken
in a fault, you who are spiritual restore such a one in the spirit of meekness."

Let us then take heed against that Cain-like spirit which is too prevalent in
our churches, and which leads many to act as if their fellow-members were no
moreto them than the stranger at the ends of the earth.

I know no duty more neglected than this. It is one of the most prevailing
defects of Christians. Many a backslider would have been prevented from going
far astray, if, in the very first stages of his declension, some brother, who
had observed his critical state, had faithfully and affectionately admonished
and warned him. What shame, and anguish, and disgrace, would the offender
himself have been spared, and what dishonor and scandal would have been averted
from the church—by this one act of faithful love!

I am aware it is a difficult and self-denying duty, but that cannot excuse its
neglect. Neglect of it violates the law of Christ. Love will enable us to
perform it.

The cardinal virtue

"So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved
you, you should love each other. By this all men will know that you are My
disciples, if you love one another." John 13:34-35

Love is enforced by our Lord as the identifying law of His kingdom. By this we
learn that the subjects of Christ are to be known and distinguished among men—by
their mutual affection.

The dispensation of Jesus Christ is a system of most wonderful, most mysterious
grace! It is the manifestation, commendation, and perfection of divine love. It
originated in the love of the Father, and is accomplished by the love of the
Son. Jesus was an ’incarnation of love’ in our world. He was love living,
breathing, speaking, acting, among men!

His birth was the nativity of love!

His teachings were the words of love!

His miracles were the wonders of love!

His tears were the meltings of love!

His crucifixion was the agonies of love!

His resurrection was the triumph of love!

Hence it was natural, that love should be the cardinal virtue in the character
of His people, and that it should be the law which regulates their conduct
towards each other.

Jesus has made His love to us, not only the motive of our love to each other—but
the pattern of our love to each other. "My command is this: Love each other as I
have loved you."

We bound to love one another, in spite of all those little infirmities of
character and conduct which we daily discover in our fellow Christians.

Let your light shine!

"Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise
your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:16

In order to comply with this, we must . . .act consistently with our profession;
excel in the observance of social duties; abound in mercy; be most exact in
performing all our promises; live in a most peaceable and neighborly manner;
perform every office of kindness which can please or benefit; and set an example
of industry, honesty, and generosity.

Frigid zone, or torrid zone?

The fact is, that some people’s religion is of that weak, unhealthy kind.

Those who have only ’head knowledge’—dwell in the frigid zone of Christianity;
and those who have only ’feeling’—occupy the torrid zone. The former are frozen
amid mere cold and heartless speculation; the latter are scorched amid wild
fanaticism.

How much more real enjoyment of the truth is possessed by him who clearly and
comprehensively understands it! Every Christian should endeavor to unite the
knowledge of a good theologian with the experience of a real believer. In order
to accomplish this, we should set apart time not only for reading—but studying
the Scriptures.

The most hopeless of all human undertakings

"Now the natural man doesn’t receive the things of God’s Spirit, for they are
foolishness to him, and he can’t know them, because they are spiritually
discerned." 1 Corinthians 2:14 The hearts of men are fully set to do evil. We
find them taken up, occupied, influenced, and governed, by the palpable and
visible things of the present life.

And our business as Christians, is to engage them in constant resistance to the
undue influence of seen and temporal things, by a vigorous faith in the things
that are unseen and eternal. Our aim and labor are, by the power of the unseen
world to come, to deliver them from the spell of the present state, with whose
pageantry they are enamored, and under whose fascination they are well pleased
to continue. And all the while they are so occupied by the pursuits of business,
so engrossed by the cares, comforts, and trials of life; and are in such
breathless haste to pursue, such distracting bustle to possess, and such ardent
hope to enjoy—the various objects of their earthly desires, that when we call
their attention to serious godliness, as the one thing needful, we are deemed
intrusive, audacious, and troublesome.

Even when we have succeeded in gaining a hearing and arresting attention, we
have to contend not only with an indisposition to receive the truth—but a
determined hostility against it.

To those who are naturally disposed to think well of themselves—we have to
produce a sense of utter worthlessness and depravity!

To those who will only admit only a few imperfections and infirmities—we have to
displace their feeling of self-esteem, by one of self-condemnation and
self-abhorrence!

To these carnal minds and hearts, we offer salvation upon terms which leave not
the smallest room for self-congratulation, or the operation of pride.

Indeed to carry such a message as frequently excites disgust, calls forth the
bitterest enmity of the human heart, and arouses all its self-love in determined
hostility!

The salvation exhibited in the gospel is not only opposed to the pride of sinful
man, but also to the evil passions of fallen man. It requires the excision of
sins dear as our right hand, the surrender of objects which have enamored our
whole soul, the breaking up of habits which have grown and strengthened with
age.

Who can pluck the worldling from the whirlpool of earthly-mindedness, which
sucks down so many? Who can rescue our hearers from the ruinous fascinations of
Mammon? Who can make inroads upon the money-loving, money-grasping spirit of
this ungodly age?

To carry on the ministry of the gospel in this revolted world, with the
intention and desire of recovering its carnal inhabitants from sin and
Satan—must appear to every reflecting mind the most hopeless of all human
undertakings—apart from the aid of the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit alone, can induce us to continue in the ministry another hour.
Without His agency, we would retire in utter despair!

Eternal, immutable truth! The God of truth Himself has placed the Bible on the
seat of majesty in the temple of truth, and has called upon all systems of
philosophy to fall down and do it homage.

This is our subject—eternal, immutable truth!

Truth given pure from its Divine Source, and bearing with it the evidence and
impress of its own Omniscient Author. O what, compared with the truths of
Scripture, are the loftiest and noblest of the sciences?

Chemistry, with its beautiful combinations and affinities; or astronomy, with
its astounding numbers, magnitudes, distances, and revolutions, of worlds; or
geology, with its marvelous and incalculable dates of bygone ages? What is
matter, inert or organized, however diversified, classified, or combined with
its laws of necessity, compared with minds and souls, and the laws of moral
truth by which their actions are regulated? What is nature, compared with the
God of nature? What are the heavens and the earth, compared with the ’marvelous
mind’ which looks out upon them through the organ of vision, as from a window
commanding the grand and boundless prospect? What is the fleeting term of man’s
existence upon earth, with its little cycles of care, sorrow, and labor,
compared with the eternal ages through which the soul holds on her course of
deathless existence? The works of creation are a dim and twilight manifestation
of God’s nature, compared with the grandeur and more perfect medium of
redemption.

Our teaching

"Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men." 2 Corinthians 5:11

Though a careful analysis of the text should form the basis of almost all our
sermons, there must be something more than mere exegesis, however clear,
correct, and instructive.

We have to do not only with a dark intellect that needs to be informed—but with
a hard heart that needs to be impressed, and a torpid conscience that needs to
be awakened! We have to make our hearers feel that in the great business of
godliness, there is much to be done—as well as much to be known. We must impart
knowledge, for light is as essential to the growth of piety in the spiritual
world, as it is to the growth of vegetation in the natural one. The analogy
holds good in another point, we must not only let in light—but add great and
vigorous labor to carry on the culture. We must therefore rise from exegesis
into—exhortation, warning, and admonition.

The apostle’s manner is the right one, "Whom we preach, warning every man and
teaching every man in all wisdom, that we may present every man perfect in
Christ Jesus." We must not only direct—but impel our hearers.

They all know far more than they practice of the Bible; the head is generally
far in advance of the heart; and our great business is to persuade, to entreat,
to beseech.

We have to deal with a dead, heavy, lethargic mind! Yes more, we have to
overcome a stout resistance, and to move a reluctant heart! When we find every
sinner we address, acting in opposition to the dictates of his judgment, and the
warnings of his conscience, as well as to the testimony of Scripture;
sacrificing the interests of his immortal soul to the vanities of the world, and
the corruptions of his heart; madly bent upon his ruin, and rushing to the
precipice from which he will take a fatal leap into perdition; can we, in that
case, be satisfied with merely explaining, however clearly, and demonstrating,
however conclusively, the truths of Scripture? "We implore you on Christ’s
behalf—Be reconciled to God."

Our teaching should . . .be perspicuous and impressive, command the attention,
instruct the judgment, engage the affections, and awaken the conscience.

The Christian minister

The Christian minister is the spiritual shepherd of the flock. He has to
increase not their knowledge only—but also their holiness, love, and
spirituality. He has to aid them in performing all the branches of duty, and in
cultivating all the graces of sanctification.

A lack of powerful, eloquent, yet simple and sincere exhortation—is among the
greatest deficiencies of the modern pulpit.

The mainspring of all our power in the pulpit

We are weak in the pulpit, because we are weak in the closet. An earnest pastor
will discipline his heart—for there, within, is the spring of energy, the seat
of impulse, and the source of power. If the heart beats feebly, the whole
circulation must be sluggish, and the frame inert. So it is with us
ministers—our own personal godliness is the mainspring of all our power in the
pulpit. We are feeble as preachers, because we are feeble as Christians.
Whatever other deficiencies we have, the chief of them all lies in our hearts.
We have too much forgotten that the fount of eloquence is in the heart; and that
it is feeling which gives to words and thoughts their power.

Lukewarmness can excite no ardor, originate no activity, produce no effect—it
benumbs whatever it touches. If we enquire what were the sources of the energy,
and the springs of the activity, of the most successful ministers of Christ, we
shall find that they lay in the ardor of their devotion. They were men of prayer
and of faith. They dwelt upon the mount of communion with God, and came down
from it like Moses to the people, radiant with the glory on which they had
themselves been intently gazing. They stationed themselves where they could look
at unseen and eternal things, and came with the stupendous visions fresh in
their view, and preached under the impression of what they had just seen and
heard. They drew their thoughts and made their sermons from their minds and from
their books—but they breathed life and power into them from their hearts, and in
their closets!

Trace Whitfield in his career, and you will see how beaten was the road between
his pulpit and his closet—the grass was not allowed to grow in that path. This
was in great part the secret of his power. He was mighty in public, because in
his retirement he had clothed himself, so to speak, with Omnipotence. He
reflected the luster he had caught in the Divine presence; and its attraction
was irresistible.

If then we would see a revival of the power of the pulpit, we must first of all
see a revival in the piety of those who occupy it!

What is meant by an earnest ministry?

In the first place then, earnestness implies the selection of some ONE object of
special pursuit, and a vivid perception of its value and importance. It is next
to impossible for the mind to be intently employed, or the heart to be very
deeply engaged, on a multiplicity of objects at once. We have not energy enough
to be so divided and distributed. Our feelings to run with force must flow
pretty much in one channel—our attention must be concentrated, our purpose
settled, our energy exerted—upon one thing, or we can do nothing effectually.
The earnest man is a man of one idea, and that one idea occupies, possesses, and
fills his soul. To every other claimant upon his time, and interest, and labor,
he says, "Stand aside! I am engaged, I cannot attend to you; something else is
waiting for me." To that one thing he is committed.

There may be many subordinate matters among which he divides any surplus
water—but the current flows through one channel, and turns one great wheel. This
"one thing I do," is his plan and resolution. Many wonder at his choice, many
condemn it—no matter, he understands it, approves it, and pursues it,
notwithstanding the ignorance which cannot comprehend it, and the diversity of
taste which cannot admire it. He is no double-minded man, unstable in all his
ways, whose preference and purpose are shaken by every cross gale of opinion. It
is nothing to him what others do, or what they say as to what he does—he must do
that, whatever else he leaves undone. No one can be in earnest who has not thus
made up his mind; and he who has, and is resolutely bent upon an object, keeps
it constantly before his mind. His attention is so strongly and tenaciously
fixed upon it, that even at the greatest distance, "like the Egyptian pyramids
to travelers, it appears to him with a luminous distinctness, as if it were
near, and beguiles the toilsome length of labor and enterprise by which he must
reach it." It is so conspicuous before him that he does not deviate a step from
the right direction, he ever hears a voice calling him onward, and every
movement and every day brings him nearer to the end of his journey. Break in
upon him at any moment, you know where you will find him, and how he will be
employed.

This is the first part of the description of an earnest minister—he too has
selected his object, and made up his mind concerning it, and insulating it from
all others, sets it clearly and distinctly before his mind.

Earnestness implies that the subject has not only been selected—but that it has
taken full possession of the mind, and has kindled towards it an intense desire
of the heart. It is something more than a correct theory and logical deductions;
more than mere exercise of the intellect, and the play of the imagination.
Earnestness means that the understanding having selected and appreciated its
object, has pressed all the faculties of both mind and body to join in the
pursuit of it. It urges the soul onward in its career of action at such a speed
that it is set on fire by the velocity of its own motion. The object of an
earnest man is never for any long period of time absent from his thoughts. He
meditates on it by day, and dreams of it by night—it meets him in his solitary
walks as some bright vision which he loves to contemplate, and it comes over him
in company with such power that he cannot avoid making it the topic of his
conversation, until he appears in the eyes of those who have no sympathy with
him, as an enthusiast.

His ministry is sought with the obligation of a principle, and the ardor of a
passion. It is impressed upon his whole character, and is inseparable from his
conduct.

The great difficulty

The great difficulty in the Christian ministry, is that we have to deal with
those who are unwilling to be saved, and to persuade the sinful, proud, and
stubborn hearts of men, to surrender to holiness and grace. The faithful pastor
carries the offer of infinite and ineffable blessedness, but it is to men who
have no taste for that species of felicity. His would be an easy office, did he
find men everywhere predisposed to close with the proposals of infinite
benevolence. But wherever he goes he meets with hearts not only indifferent, but
hostile, to his message. The parable which represents the excuses made for not
coming to the marriage feast, is still applicable to men in reference to the
invitations of the gospel—men are as they ever were, too busy, or too well
satisfied with their enjoyments and possessions, to care about salvation. They
are madly set upon the objects of the present world.

They are asleep, and need to be roused. They are careless, and need to be
interested. They are indolent, and need to be stimulated. And it is with the
greatest difficulty we can engage their attention to the invisible realities of
eternity.

No one who leaves out of view the desperate wickedness of the human heart, can
form a true estimate of the nature, design, and difficulties of the pastoral
office. And the reason why there is so little of hard labor, and intense
earnestness, and beseeching entreaty, in the ministers of the gospel, is, that
there is the lack of a deep conviction, or proper consideration, of the
resistance to their endeavors in the sinner’s heart, which is perpetually
meeting them.

Time is ever rolling on, and carrying us upon its rapid and resistless torrent
towards eternity.

This heavenly light of truth

"All Scripture is inspired by God, and is useful for teaching, rebuking,
correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be
thoroughly equipped for every good work." 2 Timothy 3:16-17 The word of God is
the sword of the Spirit by which He slays our corruptions, and the fire by which
He purifies our souls. The doctrines of Scripture are facts, which involve
corresponding emotions and principles of action, and must, from their very
nature, if believed, be operative upon the heart and the life.

If the doctrines of Scripture . . .exert no influence, carry with them no
practical weight, exert no moral power, they are not truly believed.

The doctrines of Scripture are at once . . .the source of consolation, and the
means of sanctification.

The doctrines of Scripture . . .come into the mind as knowledge, produce peace
and love in the heart, spread the beauties of holiness over the character and
conduct.

The doctrines of Scripture are light; and like the rays of the sun, they sustain
life at the root of the vine, and produce fruit on its branches.

This heavenly light of truth gives . . .spiritual vitality to the soul, and holy
conduct to the life.

"The Word of God is living and active! Sharper than any double-edged sword, it
penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the
thoughts and attitudes of the heart." Hebrews 4:12 Your adversary!

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion,
walks about, seeking whom he may devour." 1 Peter 5:8-9

What a description of your adversary! One who . . .for power is a "lion," for
cruelty and rage, a "roaring lion," for activity, "walking about," for
diligence, "seeking" out his prey, for destructive purposes, "seeking whom he
may devour."

Satan’s power, though limited and restrained, is very great. His trickery is
equal to his power. His malignity is not inferior to either. The very idea that
this cunning foe that may be near us at any moment, unseen, and therefore
unnoticed, and may be preparing some new kind of attack, is indeed sufficient to
alarm us, and to put us upon the best means of averting the danger.

"Be vigilant!" Watchfulness is an essential duty of the Christian life—none is
more necessary—none is more frequently or more solemnly enjoined. Who that is
asleep can defend himself against a lion? How cautiously, would we walk, if we
were in a country where wild beasts are common, and saw the footprints, and
actually heard the roar of a lion! Such is our situation! See to it, then, that
you do walk vigilantly—looking all round, watching every object, lest it conceal
the enemy! Be vigilant over . . .your trials, your comforts, your occupations,
your tastes, your pleasures, your thoughts, your desires, your besetting sins,
and especially, watch your hearts with all diligence!

An unwatchful Christian is sure to be an unsuccessful one.

One of Satan’s masterpieces

"This great dragon—the ancient serpent called the Devil, or Satan, the one
deceiving the whole world—was thrown down to the earth with all his angels."
Revelation 12:9

It is one of Satan’s masterpieces to induce men to take some one truth of
Scripture, and to magnify its importance beyond all due bounds, and to exalt it
not only above all other truths—but to the utter exclusion of them, thus
founding error upon truth, and heresies upon the sacred Scriptures.

"He was a murderer from the beginning and has always hated the truth. There is
no truth in him. When he lies, it is consistent with his character; for he is a
liar and the father of lies." John 8:44

Gratified by genius, eloquence, and oratory?

"Take heed therefore how you hear!" Luke 8:18

Let us never forget that to have our souls profited, that is, to be spiritually
improved in knowledge, faith, holiness, joy, and love—is the proper end of
hearing sermons—and not merely to have our taste gratified by genius, eloquence,
and oratory.

A right end and object in hearing the Word of God is necessary, for our souls to
be in a healthful state.

We live in an age when talent is idolized, and genius adored. With too many it
is not the truth of God that is thought of, valued, and delighted in—but the
talent of man with which it is set forth.

To constitute a man a Christian

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." Php 2:5

Jesus Christ is the only Teacher who ever made a ’similarity of disposition to
Himself’—a test and badge of discipleship. He is not only the teacher, but the
pattern of His own religion. His example is an essential part of His system.

To constitute a man a Christian, he must not only receive the doctrines of our
Lord—but must imbibe His very spirit. He must not only believe all He taught—but
he must live as He lived, think as He thought, and feel as He felt. Christ’s
mind must be in his mind, as far as he can contain it, and Christ’s heart must
be in his heart.

To be a Christian, it is not only necessary we should adopt Christ’s doctrines,
comply with His ordinances, observe His sacraments, associate with His church,
espouse His cause, conform outwardly to His conduct; but we must have His very
mind in us! The prevailing spirit and disposition of His mind, must be ours
also. Unless the eye of man sees the image of Christ upon our character, and the
eye of God sees the mind of Christ in our soul, we are not acknowledged as true
Christians.

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." Php 2:5

And what was the mind of Christ?

How holy was his mind! Not the shadow of sin, nor the least taint of moral evil
ever passed over it, to becloud or pollute its immaculate purity. His mind was
the seat of the most ineffable benevolence.

His heart was the very temple of love—nothing malevolent, vindictive, or cruel,
ever found a place there.

All His actions, words, and feelings were the workings of incomparable love.

His humility was equal to His purity and benevolence.

Where and in whom, is to be seen the union of holiness, benevolence, and
condescension, which formed the character of the Savior?

Is His holiness to be found in those professors who, though they are free from
external vice and immorality—allow the corruptions of their heart to go
unmortified; and who indulge, instead of crucifying—the passions and lusts of
the flesh?

Is His benevolence to be found in those who are so fond of the world, so
grasping, and so hoarding, that little or nothing can be extorted from their
reluctant hands for the salvation of sinners, and the glory of God?

And then where is His humility to be seen in His followers? Is it to be found in
those who will have their rights, and all their rights, at whatever cost of
principle or peace; who will not tolerate the least offense, without all the
boilings of wounded pride, and mortified vanity?

Oh, is this the mind that was in Christ?

"Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus." Php 2:5

The most difficult lesson

"Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider
others better than yourselves." Php 2:3

The design of this passage is to enforce the injunctions to repress all selfish
considerations of our own rights, interests, and dignity—and in the exercise of
a kind and condescending regard to the welfare of others—to forego for their
advantage what we might claim for our own.

The disposition which the apostle enjoins is that particular species of
Christian virtue which which consists of a meek humility, and benevolent
condescension for the sake of promoting the comfort and interests of our fellow
Christians. And because this is the most difficult lesson for our proud and
selfish hearts to learn in the school of Christ, he enforces it by the power of
the most cogent and splendid example which the universe contains—that of our
Lord Jesus—in His striking condescension, and profound humility.

The most sublime doctrines

The seat of all true religion is in the soul. The soul forms the character and
guides the conduct by the power of an inward principle of spiritual life.

There is an intimate connection between Christian truth and Christian practice.
The truth is employed by the sacred writers to enforce Christian practice.

The most sublime doctrines of our holy Christian religion, are all practical in
their design and tendency. They are not mere theory or academics, but are "the
truth which is according to godliness."

The religion which God demands

Never forget, my dear friends, that the religion which God demands of you, and
delights in and will accept, is a religion of the heart—a religion of . . .
penitence and faith in Christ, love to God, hope of heaven, hatred of sin,
charity to man; all existing in the soul as so many godly affections, called
forth in the actions of a holy life, and rendered vocal in words of prayer and
praise.

The palm tree!

"The godly will flourish like palm trees." Psalms 92:12

The palm tree is indigenous to tropical and other warm climates. It grows to a
considerable height and size, and presents a beautiful appearance. Its fruits
are much valued and are eaten both fresh and preserved, and are also pressed for
syrup and wine.

But it is not for its fruit alone that the palm tree is so valuable. From the
boughs, which are yearly lopped off from the lower parts of the stem, are made
baskets, cages, ropes, and sacks; from the leaves are made mattresses, sandals,
etc. It is an evergreen, and lives to an extreme old age—the wood is durable and
much used.

How striking an emblem of a godly man. He shall flourish like the palm tree!

Not how many tears we can shed

The emotional part of true godliness may be, and is by many, overestimated. The
question is not merely what we can feel—but what we can do, for Christ; not how
many tears we can shed—but how many sins we can mortify; not what raptures we
can experience—but what self-denial we can practice; not what happy frames we
can enjoy—but what holy duties we can perform; not simply how much we are
pleased at the sermon—but how much we can exhibit of the mind of Jesus in our
communion with our fellow-men; not only how far above earth we can rise to the
bliss of heaven—but how much of the love and purity of heaven we can bring down
to earth. In short, not how much of rapt feeling we can indulge—but how much of
godly principle we can bring to bear on our whole conduct.

The Scriptures should not be read

Some prescribe to themselves the task of reading so many chapters of the Bible
every day. But the Scriptures should not be read, merely for the sake of being
read.

It is not the quantity of Scripture read, but the quantity studied, understood,
and applied, that does us good. One verse pondered upon, felt, and applied, is
better than a whole chapter or book, read negligently, thoughtlessly, and
without self-application.

A real, devout, and intelligent study of the Scriptures, is essential to great
progress in godliness. SEARCH the Scriptures daily. Meditate on the Word of God
day and night—and put it into practice. Study the Word of God with prayer for
divine teaching. Take up David’s petition, "Open my eyes to see the wonderful
truths in Your law."

There is much corruption in your heart generating a false bias, and beclouding
your judgment—and likely therefore to lead you to misconception and error.
Beseech of God to send forth His Spirit into your heart to purify it from
depravity, that you may be better preserved from error. We must give up all
preconceived ideas, all prejudices, all pride of intellect, and go in humility
to the Scriptures as learners.

Guard your heart!

"Above all else, guard your heart; for out of it are the issues of life."
Proverbs 4:23

The heart is . .the great vital spring of the soul, the fountain of actions, the
center of principle, the seat of motives

The heart is the center of the thoughts and feelings—out of which conduct comes.

The heart must be the first, chief, constant object of solicitude to the
Christian. It is this which God sees, and because God principally looks at it,
the heart must be ever uppermost in our concern.

To keep the heart must mean exerting ourselves with great earnestness, in
dependence upon Divine grace, to preserve it in a good state; laboring to
preserve its vitality, vigor, and purity.

The heart is the citadel of the soul. If this is neglected, the enemy at the
gates will soon be in and take possession. Set a watch, therefore, upon the
heart. Let the sentinel be never off duty, nor sleeping at his post.

Keep out evil thoughts, and unholy affections, and vile imaginations. Without
great vigilance they will elude observation. As soon as an enemy of this kind is
detected, he must be seized and made captive, until every thought is brought
into subjection to Christ.

As the state of the heart is, so is the man in reality—and before God. Guard
your heart!

Christians should have a clear understanding, a deep conviction, and a very
powerful impression, that they are called not only to holiness and happiness—but
also to usefulness. Yet they are sometimes so much taken up with the enjoyment
of their own personal religion and Christian privileges, as to sit down in
luxurious ease and indolently enjoy the happiness to which they are brought. But
let them know and remember, that one of the strongest evidences of our own
salvation, is a deep concern and a vigorous activity for the salvation of
others.

The concentrated nutriment of the divine life! In Scripture, there is no
knowledge which is purely academic—all, all is practical. Every part is "a
doctrine according to godliness." The design of the Bible, is "that the man of
God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works."

Truth is but a means to an end, and that end is holiness.

Everyone of us ought to study our Bibles with that prayer upon our lips,
"Sanctify me by Your truth; Your word is truth." We should grow in our
understanding of the example of Jesus—that we might be more like Him.

A desire to know merely to know, is curiosity. A desire to know in order to do,
is godliness.

Never was there an age when Bibles were more widely circulated, and never an age
when they were less read!

Magazines, periodicals, and books of all kinds have come in upon us like a
flood, which in many cases has almost swept away the Bible. It is Bible truth
from its own source, which is the ’concentrated nutriment’ of the divine life!
It will be found that they are usually the strongest, healthiest, and most
rapidly growing of the children of God, who live most upon the sincere, that is,
the pure and "unadulterated" milk of the Word of God.

The writings of men are very useful in their place when they lead us to the Word
of God. But too many people allow themselves to be kept away by these writings,
from the fountains of pure truth—the sacred Scriptures!

Scriptural joy

Scriptural joy makes . . .duty cheerful, trials light, temptations powerless,
and worldly amusements insipid.

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him."
Romans 15:13

Faith

"We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Corinthians 5:7

Faith is the root of all true piety. Christians need faith for sanctification,
consolation, and perseverance. Every act of the spiritual life is an act of
faith; every step in the spiritual walk is a step of faith. The Christian’s
course is not one of doing merely, but of believing.

His prayers are the breathings of faith; his works are the actings of faith; his
penitence is the tear of faith; his joy is the smile of faith; his hopes are the
anticipations of faith; his fears are the tremblings of faith; his strength is
the confidence of faith; his submission is the acquiescence of faith.

Faith is . . .the eye that looks at Christ; the foot that moves to Him; the hand
that receives Him; the mouth that feeds upon Him.

It is not only by the activity of obedience, but by the silent and passive power
of dependence, that the Christian is strong and victorious.

Here is the reason why so many professors are so worldly and so weak; why they
make such little progress, and such small attainments—they are so much under the
dominion of sense, are so almost wholly given up to a life of sight, that they
have neither time nor inclination to look at the things that are unseen and
eternal.

There is in them no habitual looking to Christ, no abiding in Him, no vivid
consciousness that all their springs are in Him, and that it is from His
fullness they are to receive necessary grace.

We must prefer the invisible realities of eternity, to the visible things of
time; and amid all that is . . .dazzling to sense, gratifying to appetite, and
dear to passion, by faith, spend a life of . . .self-denial, mortification of
sin, and separation from the world.

Be this then your sincere and earnest prayer, my dear friends, "Lord, increase
our faith!" Be willing to have the world displaced from your soul, to make room
for the objects of faith! Be ever ready to come from the dazzling glare of
earthly scenes, to dwell in the calm and holy light of faith. Study the
Scriptures, and meditate much upon their contents. Frequent and devout converse
with the objects of faith, is the best way to have it increased.

Watch diligently against the influence of those objects which have a fatal
tendency to eclipse faith’s light, to obstruct its operation, and enfeeble its
life—namely sensual pleasure; eager pursuit of the world; and a too intimate
converse with those who mind earthly things.

An active, powerful, and craving principle

"We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Corinthians 5:7

Do not the great bulk of those who call themselves Christians appear to be
living far too much by sight—and not by faith in eternal realities?

Not indeed that they are immersed in vice or amusing gaieties; but how deeply
sunk in worldly care, how taken up with worldly comforts! No matter how pure,
and how innocent the things may be in themselves, if they hide scriptural
objects from the eye of faith—they are unlawful, as to their influence, when
they do this.

Our profession implies a disposition, and a habit of seeking our highest objects
of interest and delight, in things unseen and eternal—a daily converse of the
soul with God and Christ; with heaven and eternity. He who is thus walking will
not allow himself to be long out of sight of the cross. He will not wander far
from God in quest of happiness. He will not shut himself up amid terrestrial
pleasures, however rational or innocent. He has a new principle in his nature,
beside sense and reason—for he has faith. And faith is an active, powerful, and
craving principle, which aspires after something higher, and better, and more
enduring—than anything he can see, or touch, or taste!

He is the subject of wants and woes, which only faith can relieve and mitigate.
Neither sense nor reason can assist him to throw off his load of guilt, or give
satisfaction to desires, which the world is too poor to gratify.

Here, therefore, on this terrestrial globe, he finds himself a prisoner, sighing
for escape from the dark and limited region which he inhabits—and it is only
faith that can open for him the doors, and make way for his excursion into the
invisible realities of eternity!

Alas! how small are our attainments in this divine life of faith! How much are
we occupied and engrossed by things of time and sense.

What do you know of this life of faith?

You are all living by faith or sight; either upon heavenly things—or earthly
things.

On what is your soul living?

What is it that supplies your comfort?

Where does your spirit go daily to quench her thirst after happiness—to the
breaking cisterns of ’earthly good’—or to the fountains of living waters?

Sooner or later, the fullest store of the joys of earthly delights will be
exhausted. Pleasures, profits, honors—what are they? The whole form only a kind
of ’imaginary world’, a sort of ’splendid show’, like that in a dream, which
when you awake—all is gone!

To grasp it—is to grasp a shadow!

To feed upon it—is to feed upon the wind!

Christ and His salvation—heaven and eternity—are the only substantial realities!
And these are the objects for which faith lives, and toward which it is
perpetually walking.

How precious is the privilege of prayer!

How precious is the privilege of prayer! We are at freedom to pour out the
utmost secrets of our hearts, whether of sin, sorrow, or anxiety.

Some of your happiest, holiest seasons on earth have been spent in prayer. There
you have communed with God! In prayer . . .your cares have been lightened, your
sorrows alleviated, your fears dissipated, your souls invigorated.

In prayer you have . . .conquered the world, subdued your foes, mortified your
corruptions. O what hours you have spent, what discoveries you have made, what
joys you have experienced!

Stumbling blocks

"We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path." 2 Corinthians 6:3

Be very careful not to throw stumbling blocks in a Christian’s path, even in
little things. I do not now allude to immoralities and vice. But I refer to the
lesser violations of Christian propriety; such as . . .the indulgence of bad
dispositions; offences against love, gratitude, and humility; the practice of
dishonorable business artifices; covetousness; hard-heartedness; indifference to
the cause of Christ; conformity to the world in . . .spirit, entertainments,
dress, and amusements.

I beseech you to abstain from such things!

Do not give the ’sanction of your example’, or the ’aid of your influence’ to
the spread of a diseased religious profession, in which such leprous spots as
these are continually breaking out! "Abstain from all appearance of evil."

You should be the first to set the example, and to give out a pattern of
self-denial! You should be the leaders of the cross-bearing company! You should
be advanced in the virtues of . . . forbearance, temperance, and separation from
the world!

You should lend your example and aid in training the new converts to that hardy,
enduring, self-denying religion, which is implied in the Christian profession.

"Make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in another
Christian’s path." Romans 14:13

Real happiness

There is more real happiness in the believer’s mind, when in the very midst of
poverty and trouble, he exercises a lively confidence in God—than the richest
worldling on earth enjoys, when surrounded by all his untold wealth, and
incalculable possessions.

To feel our own poverty, emptiness, nothingness—and yet at the same time to feel
in all the confidence of faith, our fullness in Christ and our title to that
priceless inheritance, which God has reserved for His children, which is kept in
heaven for them—pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay—is one
of the most felicitous states of mind we can attain to in this world! It unites
the deepest humility—with the most exalted and triumphant anticipations!

The life of faith

"We live by faith, not by sight." 2 Corinthians 5:7

The life of faith means to be habitually influenced in the state of our minds
and conduct, not by visible objects, but by the invisible realities which are
revealed in the Word of God. It is said of Moses, "He persevered because he saw
Him who is invisible." This is the life and walk of faith with respect to God—a
realizing sense of His invisible presence—such a persuasion as leads us to all
that conduct which He requires. This then is the life of faith—to believe that
we are ever surrounded by an all-seeing, holy, and merciful God—and to conduct
ourselves toward Him accordingly.

"The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me
and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:20

No exclusive time, or place, or sphere

Many professing Christians are far too limited in their ideas of the nature,
design, and extent of practical religion. They act as if religion had nothing to
do either with business, with temper, or with our domestic and social relations!
They act as if religion were a mere matter of opinion or ceremony—a thing of the
cloister, the closet, or the sanctuary, which is to be confined to its own
retreats, and never to be allowed to approach the scenes of worldly business,
and secular pursuits!

They act as if religion were a mere rule to direct us how we are to behave
ourselves in the house of God, and to regulate our worship; and which, having
done this, has accomplished its object!

Is not this, I say, the view which if we may judge by their behavior, many take
of religion? But can anything be more inaccurate?

True religion is a permanent, all-pervading, unchanging principle, possessing a
kind of universality of nature! It must go with us, not only into the sanctuary
of God, or into the closet of private devotion, but into all places! It must
regulate our conduct, not only toward the church, but toward the world! It must
operate upon us and influence us, not only on Sundays, but at all times! It must
dictate, not only how we pray, and read the Bible—but how we buy, and sell, and
get gain.

True religion has no exclusive time, or place, or sphere, of its own—but is a
matter of all times, places, and scenes. Though heavenly in her origin, her
nature, and her destiny—she is not so thoroughly ethereal as to turn away from
the scenes of this mundane sphere, as beneath her notice and unworthy of her
control.

Practical religion must be seen in everything!

If we are unamiable at home

The influence of religion must be seen, and its power felt, in making a happy
home. Religion ought to give strength, tenderness, and sanctity—to all the
relationships of life. It should make . . .husbands and wives more affectionate
and devoted, parents more kind, judicious, and vigilant, children more dutiful,
respectful, and attentive.

If we are unamiable at home, there must be something essentially defective in
our profession.

Fearful instances of self-deception

The man who assured he is saved, while he is habitually living in the habitual
neglect of known duty, or in the indulgence of actual sin—is one of the most
fearful instances of self-deception in our world.

The great design of the gospel, is to establish a God-like frame and disposition
of spirit, which consists in righteousness and true holiness in the hearts of
men.

He who has the most confident persuasion of his being a Christian now, and of
his going on to heaven hereafter, and whose confidence rests on good ground,
will be the holiest man.

A heavenly-minded man

Heavenly-mindedness means the spontaneous, frequent, delightful, practical bent
of our reflections toward eternal life. A heavenly-minded man is one who
considers himself as a pilgrim and stranger upon earth. He regards heaven as his
native country, and as instinctively turns his thoughts to it. Scarcely a day
passes during which no thought of his mind, no glance of the eye of faith, turns
to the glory to be revealed.

Precious to him are those parts of Scripture which speak of the life to come,
and exhibit to him, amid the darkness of his way—the distant lights of his
father’s house. Sermons that represent the holiness and happiness of heaven are
delightful to his heart; books that describe it are congenial with his taste;
and the songs of Zion, which sounds like the echo of its divine harmonies,
excite all his hallowed sensibilities, and elevate his spirit to catch some of
the falling rays of the excellent glory.

The beautiful symbols of heavenly bliss, seize and fix his imagination; while
his enlightened judgment and his holy heart, repose upon . . .the presence of
God, the vision of the Lamb, the sinless purity, the eternal rest, the communion
of the blessed, the fellowship of angels.

A heavenly-minded man not only employs his thoughts, but sets his affections on
things above.

A heavenly-minded man goes farther than this, and prepares for future glory.
Grace is the preparation for glory, and he who has most grace, is most fitted
for glory.

The man who is going to occupy a place in the palace, endeavors to acquire
courtly manners, and to provide himself with a court dress. So the eminently
spiritual Christian considers himself as going in to dwell in the palace of the
King of kings, and his great business upon earth is to prepare himself with the
qualifications and dress of the celestial court. And as he clearly perceives
that the prevailing dispositions of heaven are purity and love, he labors to
grow in holiness and charity. If asked, in any situation or circumstance, or at
any period, what are you engaged in or employed about? his answer is, "I am
dressing for heaven; making myself ready to go in and dwell with Christ! Having
a post to fill in the divine palace, I am preparing for it by the mortification
of sin, and a growth in grace."

Such is heavenly-mindedness—but, alas! where is it to be found? I know where it
ought to be found—in every professing Christian. His principles demand it, his
profession requires it, his prospects justify it.

But alas, how disgusting it is to witness the earthly mindedness, and to hear
the worldly conversation of the great bulk of professing Christians—as if heaven
were nothing more than a splendid painting to adorn their temples of religion,
and to be looked at once a week; but not a glorious reality to be ever before
their eyes . . .to form their character, to regulate their conduct, support them
in trouble, and furnish their chief happiness!

Men’s hopes always affect their conduct

"Everyone who has this hope in him purifies himself, just as He is pure." 1 John
3:3

A heavenly-minded man is a holy man.

Heaven, being a holy state, yes, the very perfection of holiness; does, by a
natural process, render those holy, who meditate upon it, believe it, hope for
it, and long for it. Men’s hopes always affect their conduct, and transform
their characters into a likeness to the nature of the objects of their desires
and expectations.

How effectually guarded from temptation to lust, worldly mindedness, and
malice—is he whose affections are strongly fixed upon a state of purity,
spirituality, and love! Who that is drinking happiness from the crystal river
that flows from the throne of God and the Lamb, can take up with the filthy
puddle of worldly amusements?

What mortification of sin, what conquest of besetting corruption, what
eradication of evil tempers, what suppression of unholy disposition goes on,
when the soul fixes the ’eye of faith’ on unseen and eternal realities! Yes,
what discoveries of hidden and unsuspected sins are made, when the light of
heavenly glory is let into the soul!

A sublime fiction

"Their mind is on earthly things." Php 3:19

This is the description given by the apostle, of the predominant taste and
pursuits of the men of the world

Sadly, this also describes a large proportion of those who have ’professed’ to
come out from the world, and to be a people separated unto God. How engrossed
are they, not only in the business, but in the cares, the love, and the
enjoyment of earthly vanities. Who would imagine, to see their conduct, to hear
their conversation, to observe their spirit—so undevout, and so worldly—that
these were the men, who have heaven in their eye, their heart, their hope? Even
to them, we would be inclined to think, that heaven is nothing more than . . .a
mere name, a sublime fiction, a sacred vision, which, with all its splendor, has
scarcely power enough to engage their thoughts and fix their regards. How little
effect has heaven . . .to elevate them above a predominant earthly-mindedness,
to comfort them in trouble, to minister to their happiness, to mortify their
corruptions.

Can it be that they are seeking for, and going to glory, honor, and
immortality—who think so little about it, and derive so small a portion of their
enjoyment from the expectation of it?

"Their destiny is destruction,their god is their stomach, and their glory is in
their shame. Their mind is on earthly things." Php 3:19


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Source: https://sermonindex.net/books/writings-of-john-a-james-volume-1/
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