LECTURE I.

[3]IT was among the earlieſt cares of the firſt promoters of the reforma⯑tion, to provide a catechiſm for the in⯑ſtruction of youth. But the ſame cau⯑tion, with regard to the prejudices of men, was neceſſarily to be uſed in this matter, as had been uſed in all the other religious tranſactions of thoſe times. At firſt, it was thought ſufficient to begin with ſuch common things, as were ac⯑knowledged both by papiſts and pro⯑teſtants. The firſt catechiſm therefore conſiſted ſimply of the creed, the ten commandments, and the Lord's prayer: and it was no eaſy matter to bring even theſe into general uſe. They were re⯑ceived by the people, in the midſt of that profound ignorance, which then reigned, as a ſpecies of incanta⯑tion; and it was long before the groſſ⯑neſs [4] of vulgar conception was even en⯑lightened enough to apprehend, that the creed, the ten commandments, and the Lord's prayer, meant ſimply to di⯑rect their faith, their practice, and their devotion.

This was all the progreſs, that was made in catechetical inſtruction from the beginning of the reformation, till ſo late a period as the year 1549. About that time a farther attempt was made by archbiſhop Cranmer, as it is com⯑monly ſuppoſed. He ventured to add a few cautious explanatory paſſages; which was all the prejudices of men would yet bear. The great prudence indeed, of that wiſe and good man, appeared in nothing more, than in the eaſy movements, with which he in⯑troduced every change.

[5]In the year 1553, a farther attempt was hazarded. A catechiſm was publiſh⯑ed by authority, in which not only the creed, the ten commandments, and the Lord's prayer were more fully expound⯑ed; but a brief explanation alſo of the ſacraments was added. This bold work, however, was not ventured in the engliſh tongue; but was publiſhed in latin, for the uſe of ſchools. Arch⯑biſhop Wake,^* whoſe authority I chief⯑ly follow, ſuppoſes this catechiſm to be the firſt model of that, which is now in uſe.

Thus the matter reſted, till the reign of Elizabeth. In the mean time, the violent meaſures of her predeceſſor, had tended greatly to open an inquiſitive temper in the age; and to aboliſh its [6] prejudices. Men began to have ſome notion of thinking for themſelves; and it was no longer neceſſary to obſerve that extreme caution, which had hi⯑therto been obſerved, in addreſſing them on religious ſubjects. The catechiſm therefore was now improved on a more liberal plan; and having undergone ſe⯑veral reviews, was at length publiſhed by authority, nearly in its preſent form, in the year 1563. It ought to be men⯑tioned, that the perſon principally con⯑cerned in this work, was Nowel, dean of St. Paul's.

From this ſhort hiſtory of the cate⯑chiſm, the various forms it underwent, and the care and caution employed in compoſing it, we need not wonder at finding it, what it really appears to be, a very accurate, judicious, and compre⯑henſive [7] ſummary of the principles, and doctrines of the chriſtian religion.

It begins with a recital of our bap⯑tiſmal vow, as a kind of preface to the whole. It then lays down the great chriſtian principle of faith; and leaving all myſterious inquiries, in which this ſubject is involved, it paſſes on to the rules of practice. Having briefly re⯑cited theſe, it concludes with a ſimple, and very intelligible explanation of bap⯑tiſm, and the Lord's ſupper.

The catechiſm then begins very pro⯑perly, with a recital of our baptiſmal vow, as the beſt preface to that belief, and thoſe rules of practice, in which that vow engaged us.—But before we examine the vow itſelf, two appendages of it require explanation—the uſe of ſponſors—and the addition of a name.

[8]With regard to the ſponſor, the church probably imitates the appoint⯑ment of the legal guardian, making the beſt proviſion it can, for the pious edu⯑cation of orphans, and deſerted chil⯑dren. The temporal and the ſpiritual guardian may equally betray their truſt: both are culpable: both accountable: but ſurely the latter breaks the more ſacred engagement.

As to promiſing and vowing in the name of another, (which ſeems to carry ſo harſh a ſound) the ſponſor only en⯑gages for the child, as any one would en⯑gage for another, in a matter, which is manifeſtly for his advantage: and on a ſuppoſition, that the child hereafter will ſee it to be ſo—that is, he promiſes, as he takes it for granted, the child it⯑ſelf would have promiſed, if it had been able.

[9]With regard to the name, it is no part of the ſacrament; nor pretends to ſcriptural authority. It reſts merely on ancient uſage. A cuſtom had ge⯑nerally obtained, of giving a new name, upon adopting a new member into a fa⯑mily. We find it common among the Greeks, the Romans, and the Jews: nay, we read that even God himſelf, when he received Abraham into covenant, giving an early ſanction to this uſage, changed his name to Abraham. In imitation of this common practice, the old chriſtians gave baptiſmal names to their children, which were intended to point out their heavenly adoption, as their ſurnames diſtinguiſhed their temporal alliance.

From conſidering the uſe of ſponſors, and of the name, in baptiſm, we pro⯑ceed next to the vow itſelf, which is thus [10] expreſſed. ‘My godfathers did pro⯑miſe three things in my name: 1ſt, That I ſhould renounce the devil, and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all the ſinful luſts of the fleſh. 2dly, That I ſhould believe all the articles of the chriſtian faith; and 3dly, That I ſhould keep God's holy will, and commandments, and walk in the ſame all the days of my life.’

Firſt then, we promiſe to ‘renounce the devil, and all his works, the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and all the ſinful luſts of the fleſh.’ ‘The devil, the world, and the fleſh,’ is a comprehenſive mode of ex⯑preſſing every ſpecies of ſin, however diſtinguiſhed; and from whatever ſource derived: all which we not only en⯑gage [11] to renounce as far as we are able; but alſo to take pains in tracing the la⯑byrinths of our own hearts; and in re⯑moving the gloſſes of ſelf-deceit. With⯑out this, all renunciation of ſin is pre⯑tence.

Being thus injoined to renounce our groſs, habitual ſins, and thoſe bad in⯑clinations, which lead us into them; we are required next to ‘believe all the articles of the chriſtian faith.’ This is a natural progreſſion. When we are thoroughly convinced of the malignity of ſin, we in courſe wiſh to avoid the ill conſequences of it; and are prepared to give a fair hearing to the evidence of religion. There is a cloſe connection between vice, and infidelity. They mu⯑tually ſupport each other. The ſame connection ſubſiſts between a well diſ⯑poſed mind, and the truths of religion: [12] and faith perhaps is not ſo involuntary an act, as many of our modern philoſo⯑phers would perſuade us.

After ‘believing the articles of the chriſtian faith,’ we are laſtly injoined to ‘keep God's holy will and com⯑mandments.’ Here too is the ſame natural progreſſion. As the renuncia⯑tion of ſin prepares the way for faith, ſo does faith lead directly to obedi⯑ence. They ſeem related to each other, as the mean and the end. "The end of the commandment," ſaith the apoſtle, ‘is charity, out of a pure heart, and good conſcience, and faith unfeigned.’ Faith, (which is the act of believing upon rational evidence,) is the great fountain, from which all chriſtian vir⯑tues ſpring. No man will obey a law, till he hath informed himſelf whether it be properly authorized: or, in other [13] words, till he believe in the juriſdiction that enacted it.—If our faith in Chriſt doth not lead us to obey him; it is what the ſcriptures call a dead faith, in oppoſition to a ſaving one.

To this inſeparable connection be⯑tween faith and obedience, St. Paul's doctrine may be objected, where he ſeems to lay the whole ſtreſs on faith, in oppoſition to works ^*.—But it is plain, that St Paul's argument requires him to mean by faith, the whole ſyſtem of the chriſtian religion, (which is indeed the meaning of the word in many other parts of ſcripture;) and by works, which he ſets in oppoſition to it, the moral law. So that, in fact, the apo⯑ſtle's argument relates not to the pre⯑ſent queſtion; but tends only to eſta⯑bliſh the ſuperiority of chriſtianity. The [14] moral law, argues the apoſtle, which claimed on the righteouſneſs of works, makes no proviſion for the deficiences of man. Chriſtianity alone, by open⯑ing a door of mercy, gave him hopes of that ſalvation, which the other could not pretend to give.

Upon renouncing ſin, believing the articles of the chriſtian faith, and keep⯑ing God's holy commandments, as far as ſinful man can keep them, we are intitled by promiſe to all the privileges of the goſpel. We ‘become members of Chriſt, children of God, and in⯑heritors of the kingdom of heaven.’ We are redeemed through the merits of Chriſt; pardoned through the mercies of God; and rewarded with a bleſſed immortality.

This account of our baptiſmal vow concludes with a queſtion, leading us to [15] acknowledge the neceſſity of obſerving this vow; and to declare our belief, that our only hope of keeping it reſts upon the aſſiſtance of God.

Having conſidered our baptiſmal vow, or the prefatorial part, we come now to the body itſelf of the catechiſm; which naturally divides into the two great bran⯑ches of the vow, faith, and obedience— the firſt as contained in the creed; the ſecond in the commandments.

LECTURE II.

[19]WHEN the purity of the chriſtian religion became mingled with human inventions; and ſectaries, inſtead of judging from the whole tenor of the goſpel, built their narrow ſyſtems upon detached parts—then it was that diffe⯑rent churches thought it neceſſary to frame creeds, with an intention to diſ⯑tinguiſh articles of faith from matters of opinion: and the primary idea of a creed was merely to bring theſe articles together, from various parts of ſcrip⯑ture, into one point of view.

But as corruption advanced, and dif⯑ferent churches began to found different ſyſtems on the ſame articles; then each church thought it neceſſary to proceed a ſtep further; and to inlarge its creed by explanations; with a view to ſhew, in what ſenſe it received each article; [20] or, in other words, to draw a line be⯑tween itſelf, and ſuch churches, as it thought held unſcriptural tenets.— Hence, we may eaſily ſuppoſe, that many of theſe creeds were as abſurd, as the various opinions, which gave them birth: and hence the creeds, even of the pureſt churches, became clogged with explanatory clauſes; which if they had their uſe in ſome caſes, produced miſchief in others.—This is the ſhort hiſtory of creeds.

In our church, three of theſe ancient creeds are retained—that authenticated by the council of Nice—the Athenaſian —and that which is commonly, tho improperly, called the Apoſtles-creed. As to the Athenaſian creed, it has given great offence to many well-meaning per⯑ſons, by the damnatory clauſes with which it is guarded; though, in fact, [21] theſe make no part of the creed itſelf; but reſt ſolely with the author of it. The apoſtles creed, however, is charge⯑able with nothing of this kind: it hath ſtood the teſt of ages; and (unleſs in one or two obſcure paſſages) hath been ever thought unexceptionable.

This creed was compoſed before any of the ſubtilties of the doctrine of the tri⯑nity were introduced; which tend more to create animoſity amongſt men, than to amend their hearts. In it we ſimply declare our belief in the Father, the Son, and the Holy-ghoſt—in the ſcripture ac⯑count of the life, and ſufferings of Chriſt—in the redemption of the world from ſin—in the reſurrection of the dead —and in the eternity of a future ſtate.

But before we enter upon the exami⯑nation of theſe points, as we ſhall have [22] frequent occaſion, in the courſe of it, to appeal to the New Teſtament, it ſeems natural, firſt to prove the au⯑thenticity of the ſeveral books of which it is compoſed. I ſhall juſt therefore touch the heads of argument, made uſe of in this proof.

A ſeries of chriſtian writers, Irenaeus, Juſtin Martyr, Tertullian, Clement, Origen, ^* and others, who lived in the ages ſucceeding thoſe of the apoſtles, and whoſe writings are ſtill extant, agree in declaring thoſe books, which compoſe the canon of ſcripture, as now ſettled, [23] to have deſcended regularly from the apoſtolic times.

The very originals indeed of ſome of them appear to have been preſerved, till the third century; for Tertullian, who dyed at the cloſe of the ſecond, ſeems to appeal to them, as then exiſt⯑ing ^*.

In thoſe early ages the authenticity of ſcripture was univerſally acknowledged, both by friends and enemies. Celſus, Julian, and all the eminent anti-chri⯑ſtians of thoſe days, no more diſputed the authenticity of ſcripture, than we do that of the koran. Their objections to the one, and our objections to the [24] other, run in a different channel. On this head no diſputes were ever heard of; nor any interruption in the regular chain of evidence.

When indeed could a forgery have been introduced? In whatever age we ſuppoſe it to have been attempted, we cannot imagine the chriſtians of that age would have been ſupine in examining a matter of ſuch conſequence: and as the ſcriptures ſtill hold their credit, we may fairly conclude, that either no ſuch attempt was ever made; or that, if it was made, it was wholly inefficacious.

Beſides, many goſpels and epiſtles appeared in different ages of the church; and tho ſome of them had a very evan⯑gelical caſt, and were writings of intrin⯑ſic value, yet they were rejected by all [25] chriſtians, only becauſe they could not produce proofs of their authenticity.

But beſides theſe common marks of authenticity, the ſcripture hath others peculiar to itſelf. It was tranſlated into all languages: it was every where diſperſed: it was carefully pre⯑ſerved in churches, and other public places: it was read not only in private; but univerſally in the aſſemblies of the people: its friends had the higheſt ve⯑neration for it, as it contained the char⯑ter of all their hopes; and its enemies held it in the utmoſt averſion, as it combated all their worldly ſchemes, and pretenſions. Nay to ſuch a degree of rancour were its adverſaries animated, that they often endeavoured to deſtroy it utterly; which it is not probable they would have attempted, if they could have ſhewn it to have been ſpu⯑rious: [26] this would certainly have been a more liberal, as well as a more effectual mode of rejection.

To the external evidence, in proof of the authenticity of ſcripture, may be added no little degree of ſtrength from its internal evidence. The ſimplicity of the writers, and of the writings cor⯑reſpond. There is the ſame agreement between the ſeveral parts of each book, and the general ſcheme of chriſtianity.

An appeal alſo is often made to ex⯑traordinary gifts, which, in thoſe early times, were exerciſed in the church: and ſurely no impoſtor would have been forward in making ſuch an appeal, if no ſuch gifts had been known.

Different perſons likewiſe, who were then alive, are mentioned; which afford⯑ed [27] a very unneceſſary hint for a detec⯑tion, if no ſuch perſons had exiſted.

In many of St. Paul's epiſtles alſo a variety of rites, and cuſtoms are al⯑luded to, as then in uſe, which in the next age, after the deſtruction of Jeru⯑ſalem, are known to have been totally aboliſhed.

But tho the ſcripture could not be forged, might it not have been adulte⯑rated?

This ſeems impoſſible from the va⯑riety of ſects, which ſprang up in the earlieſt times of chriſtianity. As theſe, in general, perſecuted each other, they would undoubtedly have joined in cla⯑mour againſt any one ſect, which had ventured to receive a portion of ſcrip⯑ture [28] as genuine, which was not univer⯑ſally acknowledged.

Objections, though of no great force, have been made to ſcripture, from the diſagreement found among the ancient copies of the New Teſtament.

But this diſagreement conſiſts, in ge⯑neral, of mere grammatical niceties. In one copy, a particle is added, which is omitted in another. Of this ſort are the greater part of the various readings of the New Teſtament: and it could not well be otherwiſe. Inaccu⯑racies of this kind are unavoidable; and may indeed argue inattention in the tranſcriber; but are ſurely no argument againſt the authenticity of the book.

The objector argues with more weight, when he alledges, what he calls, [29] the contradictions of ſcripture. One of the ſacred writers tells us, that our Saviour ordered his diſciples, when they preached, to take ſtaves: another, that he ordered them to take none. This affirms, that at the reſurrection two angels were ſeen; that mentions on⯑ly one. And he who will be at the pains of comparing attentively all the evangelical accounts, muſt be obliged to acknowledge, they are far from being perfectly harmonious.—Now, where we find ſuch manifeſt contradictions, what are we to ſay? Is there any dependence upon books, in which they are found?

In anſwer to this objection, it might perhaps be no difficult matter to ſhew, that theſe contradictions do not really exiſt; and that the paſſages, which are imagined to contain them, may be re⯑conciled. But giving the objection its [30] force, it has no tendency to overthrow the veracity of the ſacred writings: it rather indeed concludes in favour of them; inaſmuch as it ſhews, there was no colluſion among the writers. Such little variations affect neither the doc⯑trine, nor the hiſtory. The doctrine is clearly conſiſtent throughout; and the hiſtory is evidently, in all its material circumſtances, the ſame.

But where is your inſpiration then? If the ſpirit of God directs, it will direct even the minuteſt truth.

If it only preſerve from error in mat⯑ters of importance, it is ſurely ſufficient. To ſuppoſe more, would be to conceive very groſly of inſpiration.

Having thus endeavoured to eſtabliſh the authenticity of ſcripture, we might [31] reſt the proof of the ſeveral articles of our creed on its ſole authority. But as it is one of the various pleas of ſcepti⯑ciſm to ſet reaſon and ſcripture at vari⯑ance, it will perhaps be more ſatisfac⯑tory to carry our reaſon along with us in the diſcuſſion of theſe proofs; and reſt them, as we may do in all caſes, except where our reaſon is incapable, on rational evidence, as well as on ſcriptu⯑ral authority. Both reaſon, and ſcrip⯑ture have their origin from the ſame great being; and therefore there muſt be at leaſt, ſo much harmony between them, as that one can never contradict the other.

LECTURE III.

[35]THE creed begins with a profeſſion of our belief in "God the Fa⯑ther almighty, maker of heaven and earth."

The being of a God is one of thoſe truths, which ſcarce require proof. A proof ſeems rather an injury, as it ſup⯑poſes doubt. However, as young minds, though not ſceptical, are unin⯑formed, it may not be improper to ſe⯑lect out of the variety of arguments, which evince this great truth, two or three of the moſt ſimple.

The exiſtence of a deity, we prove from the light of nature. For his at⯑tributes, at leaſt in any perfection, we muſt look into ſcripture.

[36]A few plain and ſimple arguments drawn from the creation of the world— the preſervation of it—and the general conſent of mankind, ſtrike us with more conviction, than all the ſubtil⯑ties of metaphyſical deduction.

We prove the being of a God firſt from the creation of the world.

The world muſt have been produced either by deſign, or by chance. No other mode of origin can be ſuppoſed. Let us ſee then with which of theſe cha⯑racters it is impreſſed.

The characteriſtic of the works of deſign, is a relation of parts, in order to produce an end.—The characteriſtic of the works of chance is juſt the reverſe.— When we ſee ſtones, anſwering each other, laid in the form of a regular building, we [37] immediately ſay, they were put together by deſign: but when we ſee them thrown about in a diſorderly heap, we ſay as confidently, they have been thrown ſo by chance.

Now, in the world, and all its ap⯑pendages, there is plainly this appear⯑ance of deſign. One part relates to ano⯑ther; and the whole together produces an end. The ſun, for inſtance, is con⯑nected with the earth, by warming it into a proper heat, for the production of its fruits; and furniſhing it with rain and dew. The earth again is connec⯑ted with all the vegetables, which it produces, by providing them with pro⯑per ſoils, and juices for their nouriſh⯑ment. Theſe again are connected with animals, by ſupplying them with food. And the whole together produces the [38] great end of ſuſtaining the lives of in⯑numerable creatures.

Nor is deſign ſhewn only in the grand fabric of the world, and all its relative appendages; it is equally ſhewn in every part. It is ſeen in every animal, adap⯑ted in all its peculiarities to its proper mode of life. It is ſeen in every vege⯑table, furniſhed with parts exactly ſuited to its ſituation. In the leaſt, as well as in the greateſt of nature's productions, it is every where apparent. The little creeper upon the wall, extending its te⯑nacious fibres, draws nouriſhment from the crannies of the ſtones; and flouriſhes where no other plant could live.

If then the world, and every part of it, are thus marked with the characters of deſign, there can be no difficulty in acknowledging the author of ſuch deſign [39] —of ſuch amazing contrivance, and variety, to be a being of infinite wiſdom and power. We call a man ingenious, who makes even a common globe, with all the parts of the earth delineated up⯑on it. What ſhall we ſay then of the author of the great original itſelf, in all its grandeur, and furniſhed with all its various inhabitants?

The argument drawn from the pre⯑ſervation of the world, is indeed rather the laſt argument advanced a ſtep far⯑ther.

If chance could be ſuppoſed to pro⯑duce a regular form, yet it is certainly beyond the higheſt degree of credulity, to ſuppoſe, it could continue this regu⯑larity for any time. But we find it has been continued: we find, that near 6000 years have made no change in the [40] order and harmony of the world. The ſun's action upon the earth hath ever been regular. The production of trees, plants, and herbs, hath ever been uni⯑form. Every ſeed produces now the ſame fruit it ever did. Every ſpecies of animal life is ſtill the ſame. Could chance continue this regular arrange⯑ment? Could any thing continue it but the hand of an omnipotent God?

Laſtly, we ſee this great truth, the be⯑ing of a God, witneſſed by the general conſent of mankind. This general conſent muſt ariſe either from tradition, or it muſt be the reſult of men's own rea⯑ſoning. Upon either ſuppoſition, it is an argument equally ſtrong. If the firſt ſuppoſition be allowed, it will be diffi⯑cult to aſſign any ſource of this tradi⯑tion, but God himſelf. If the ſecond, it can ſcarce be ſuppoſed, that all [41] mankind, in different parts of the world, ſhould agree in the belief of a thing, which never exiſted. For tho doubts have ariſen concerning this ge⯑neral belief; yet it is now pretty well aſcertained, from the accounts of tra⯑vellers, that no nation hath yet been diſcovered, among whom ſome traces of religious worſhip have not been found.

Be it ſo, ſays the objector; yet ſtill we find ſingle perſons, even in civilized countries, and ſome of them men of enlarged capacities, who have not only had their doubts on this ſubject; but have proclaimed aloud their diſbelief of a divine being?

We anſwer, that it is more than pro⯑bable, no man's infidelity on this head was ever thoroughly ſettled. Bad men, [42] rather endeavour to convince them⯑ſelves, than are really convinced.—But even on a ſuppoſition, that a few ſuch perſons could be found,^* what is their teſtimony againſt ſo great a majority, as the reſt of mankind? The light of the ſun is univerſally acknowledged, though it happens, that now and then, a man may be born blind.

But ſince, it ſeems, there are diffi⯑culties in ſuppoſing a divine creator and preſerver of the world, what ſyſtem [43] of things does the atheiſt ſuppoſe at⯑tended with fewer? He ſees the world produced before him. He ſees it hath been created; and is preſerved. Some account of this matter muſt be given. If ours diſpleaſe him; let us have his.

The experiment hath been tried. We have had many atheiſtical creeds; none of which hath ſtood the teſt of be⯑ing handed down with any degree of credit into future times.

The atheiſt's great argument indeed againſt a deity, is levelled at the ap⯑parent injuſtice of his government. It was an objection of ancient date; and might have had its weight in heathen times: but it is one of the bleſſings, which attends chriſtianity, that it ſatisfies all our doubts on this head; and gives us a rational, and eaſy ſolution of this [44] poignant objection. What if we ob⯑ſerve an inaccurate diſtribution of the things of this world? What if virtue be depreſſed, and vice triumphant? It is nothing, ſays the voice of religion, to him, who believes this life to be an in⯑conſiderable part of his being; a point only in the expanſe of eternity: who believes he is ſent into this world, mere⯑ly to prepare himſelf for a better. This world, he knows, is intended neither for reward, nor puniſhment. Happineſs unqueſtionably attends virtue even here; and miſery, vice: but it is not the hap⯑pineſs of a ſplendid ſtation; but of a peaceful mind: nor is it the miſery of low circumſtances, but of a guilty con⯑ſcience. The things of this world are not, in their own nature, connected either with happineſs or miſery. Attended ſometimes by one, and ſometimes by the other, they are merely the means of [45] trial. One man is tempted with riches, and another with poverty; but God intends neither an elevated, nor a de⯑preſſed ſituation as the ultimate com⯑pletion of his will.

Beſides, if worldly proſperity even was the indication of God's favour, yet good men may have failings, and im⯑prudencies enough about them to de⯑ſerve misfortune; and bad men virtues, which may deſerve ſucceſs. Why ſhould imprudence, tho joined with virtue, partake of its reward? Or the generous purpoſe ſhare in the puniſhment, tho connected with vice?

Thus then we ſee the being of a God is the univerſal creed of nature. But tho nature could inveſtigate the ſimple truth, ſhe could not preſerve it from error. Nature merely takes her notions [46] from what ſhe ſees, and what ſhe hears; and hath ever moulded her gods in the likeneſs of things in heaven, and things on earth. Hence every part of the cre⯑ation, animate, and inanimate, hath, by turns, been an object of worſhip. And even the moſt refined nations, we know, had groſs conceptions on this head. The wiſeſt of them indeed, by obſerv⯑ing the wonders of creation, could cloath the Deity with wiſdom and power: but they could go no farther. The virtues of their heroes afforded them the higheſt ideas of perfection: and with theſe they arrayed their gods; mixing alſo with their virtues, ſuch vices, as are found in the characters of the beſt of men.

For juſt notions of the Deity, we muſt have recourſe then to revelation alone. Revelation removes all theſe [47] abſurdities. It diſpels the clouds of ignorance; and unveils the divine ma⯑jeſty, as far as it can be the object of human contemplation. The lax notions of libertiniſm, on one hand, which make the deity an inobſervant governor; and the glooming ideas of ſuperſtition, on the other, which ſuppoſe him to be a dark, malignant being, are equally ex⯑poſed. Here we are informed of the omniſcience, and omnipreſence of God. Here we learn, that his wiſdom and power are equalled by his goodneſs; and that his mercy is over all his works. In ſhort, we learn from revelation, that we are in the hands of a being, whoſe knowledge we cannot evade, and whoſe power we cannot reſiſt; who is merciful and good to all his creatures; and will be ever ready to aſſiſt, and re⯑ward thoſe, who endeavour to conform [48] themſelves to his will: but whoſe juſtice, at the ſame time, accompanying his mercy, will puniſh the bold, and careleſs ſinner in proportion to his guilt.

LECTURE IV.

[51]AFTER profeſſing our belief in God, the creed proceeds with a profeſſion of our belief "in Jeſus Chriſt, his ſon, our Lord."

A perſon celebrated as Jeſus Chriſt was, we may ſuppoſe, would naturally find a place in the profane hiſtory of his times. It may not be amiſs there⯑fore, to introduce the evidence we are about to collect, with the teſtimony of ſome of the more eminent of the hea⯑then writers, who have mentioned him. They will at leaſt inform us, that ſuch a perſon lived at the time we aſſert; and that he was the author of a new re⯑ligion.—I ſhall quote only Suetonius, Tacitus, and Pliny.

Suetonius,^* tell us, that "the em⯑peror Claudius drove all the Jews [52] from Rome, who, at the inſtigation of one Chriſt, were continually making diſturbances."

Tacitus^* ſpeaking of the perſecution of chriſtians, tells us, "that the author of that name was Chriſt, who was put to death by Pontius Pilate, in the reign of Tiberius."

Pliny's ^† teſtimony is more large. It is contained in a letter, written to the emperor Trajan, deſiring his inſtruc⯑tions with regard to chriſtians. He blames their obſtinacy in refuſing to ſacrifice to the Roman deities—but from their own confeſſion can draw nothing, but that they aſſemble, on a certain day, before ſun riſe,—that they pay divine honours to Chriſt as a God,—that they [53] bind themſelves by a ſacrament not to ſteal, nor to commit adultery, nor to de⯑ceive—and that, after the perfor⯑mance of theſe rites, they join in one common meal. Nay he examined, he ſays, two of them by torture: yet ſtill he finds nothing obnoxious in their beha⯑viour, except their abſurd ſuperſtitions. He thinks, however, the matter ſhould be inquired into: for chriſtianity had brought religion into great diſuſe. The markets were crouded with victims; and ſcarce a purchaſer came near them.

Theſe writers afford us ſufficient teſ⯑timony, that Jeſus Chriſt lived, at the time we aſſert; and that he was the author of a new religion. They had opportunities of being well informed; could have no intereſt in falſifying; were no converts to the new ſect; but [54] talk of Chriſt, only as they would of any ſingular perſon, whom they had oc⯑caſion to mention. Their teſtimony therefore is beyond cavil.

Let us now proceed a ſtep farther, and examine the ſcripture evidence of Chriſt, which proves not only his ex⯑iſtence; but that he is our Lord, or the Meſſiah—and not only that he was the author of a new religion; but that this religion is true.

Upon examining the grand ſcripture evidence on this head, we find the greateſt ſtreſs laid upon miracles and prophecies; both of which are direct appeals to God, by a claim to ſuperna⯑tural power ^*. And though both theſe [55] modes of evidence are calculated as well for us, who live in remoter times, as for thoſe, who lived in the earlieſt; yet the evidence from miracles ſeems more par⯑ticularly addreſſed to them; as that from prophecy is to us. They were the eye-witneſſes of the miracles of the goſpel, of which we have only the evi⯑dence at ſecond hand. Whereas pro⯑phecy is a mode of evidence, which in⯑creaſes through every age. The early chriſtians had it in part; but to us this amazing web is ſtill more unfolded; and more of its wonderful texture diſ⯑played.—Let us examine each in its or⯑der.

[56]Among the eye-witneſſes of the goſ⯑pel miracles, were many learned men, as well as unlearned. The former had opportunity and abilities to examine the works before them; to trace out fraud, if any ſuch were latent; and did unqueſtionably receive them with all that circumſpection which was due to ſuch wonderful exhibitions, before they embraced the chriſtian faith: while the moſt ignorant ſpectator was a compe⯑tent judge of matter of fact; and many of our Saviour's miracles were ſuch, as could not poſſibly, from the nature of the facts themſelves, be coloured with fraud.

It had a ſtrange ſound to the pre⯑judices of mankind, that a crucifyed malefactor was the Saviour of the world; and we cannot ſuppoſe, that any man, much leſs that a multitude of men, [57] would embrace ſuch a belief without clear conviction: eſpecially as no world⯑ly advantage lay on the ſide of this be⯑lief; and the convert even renounced the world, and embraced a life of per⯑ſecution.—Let us conſider the ſingle miracle of Chriſt's reſurrection. Jeſus had frequently mentioned it before his death; and the thing was ſo far in ge⯑neral credited, that the ſepulchre was ſealed, and an armed guard appointed to watch it. We may well ſuppoſe therefore, that his favourers would na⯑turally, upon this occaſion, reaſon thus: "Jeſus hath now put his pretenſions upon a fair iſſue. He hath told us, he will ariſe from the dead on the third day:—here then let us ſuſpend our judgment; and wait the reſult. Three days will determine, whether he be an impoſtor, or, the real Meſſiah."—It is [58] very natural to ſuppoſe, that the fa⯑vourers of Jeſus would reaſon, after his death, in a manner like this: and it is beyond credibility, that any of them would have continued his diſciples, had they found him falſifying in this point. But we know they did continue his diſ⯑ciples after this. We know alſo, that many proſelytes, convinced by this very event, embraced the chriſtian religion. —We have all the reaſon in the world therefore to believe, that they were fully ſatisfied. His miracles were to them a ſufficient proof of his pretenſi⯑ons. All candid men would have ac⯑quieſced, as they did; and in their be⯑lief we have a very ſtrong foundation for our own.

Again, with regard to prophecy, we obſerve, that the writers of the old teſtament ſeem, in various parts, to [59] characterize ſome extraordinary perſon, who was in proceſs of time to make his appearance in the world. The marks are peculiar, and can neither be miſtaken nor miſapplied. "He was to be born of a virgin—he was to turn the hearts of the diſobedient to the wiſdom of the juſt — though dignifyed with the characters of a prince, he was to be a man of ſorrows, and acquainted with grief—tho deſcribed to be with⯑out ſin, he was to be numbered with tranſgreſſors—his hands and his feet were to be pierced—he was to be made an offering for ſin—and was never to ſee corruption."—Theſe prophecies were publiſhed many hundred years before the birth of Chriſt; and had been all along in the hands, not only of the Jews, but of all men of letters. The old teſtament had been early tranſlated [60] into the greek language; and received into the politeſt libraries of thoſe times.

With theſe ideas, let us open the new teſtament, and it is obvious, that no picture can be more like its original, than theſe prophecies of Chriſt in one teſtament, are to his hiſtory in the other. Here we ſee that extraordinary virgin-birth unravelled.— Here we ſee a life ſpent in turning the hearts of the diſo⯑bedient to the wiſdom of the juſt.— Here we find the prince of his people, a man of ſorrows, and acquainted with grief.—Here we ſee the Lord of righte⯑ouſneſs numbered with tranſgreſſors— we ſee his hands and his feet pierced— we ſee him made an offering for ſin— and we ſee realized that extraordinary idea of death without corruption.

It were an eaſy matter to carry this compariſon through a more minute de⯑tail [61] of circumſtances: but I mean only to trace the outlines of this great reſem⯑blance. To compleat the picture would be a copious work.

Beſides theſe predictions, which related immediately to the life and death of Chriſt; there were many others, which deſerve notice. Among theſe, the two great leading prophecies, were thoſe of the calling of the Gentiles, and of the diſperſion of the Jews.

The calling of the Gentiles was one of the earlieſt prophecies of the old teſtament. The Jews were diſtinguiſhed in appearance, as the favourite peo⯑ple of God; and they were ſufficiently elated upon that diſtinction. But if they had attended cloſely to their prophets, they might have diſcovered, that all the prophecies, which deſcribed the happy [62] ſtate of the church, had evidently a more diſtant proſpect, than to them. Thoſe early promiſes, in particular, which were repeated to the patriarchs, were not merely confined to their poſte⯑rity; but included "all the nations of the earth."^*—And when the later pro⯑phets, as the great event approached, ſpoke a plainer, and a more intelligible language, the whole nation might have underſtood, as Simeon, and ſome of the wiſeſt, and moſt intelligible of them did underſtand, that "a light was ſprung up to lighten the Gentiles."

The prophecy of the diſperſion of the jewiſh nation is alſo very antient, being attributed by Moſes to the patriarch Jacob. "The ſceptre ſhall not depart from Judah, until Shiloh come." What⯑ever may be the preciſe meaning of the word ſceptre in the original; and though [63] it may not perhaps properly ſignify that idea of regal power, which it conveys to our ears; yet it certainly means ſome badge of authority, that implies a form⯑ed and ſettled government. And as to the word Shiloh, all commentators, jewiſh as well as chriſtian, explain it to mean the Meſſiah.—The ſenſe therefore of the prophecy is plainly this—that the Jews ſhould continue in the form of a ſociety, till the time of the Meſſiah. Accordingly we find, that, ſoon after Chriſt's death, the ſceptre did depart from Judah: the Jews loſt all form of a political ſociety; and are a ſingular in⯑ſtance of a people, ſcattered over the whole earth, preſerved to this day ſe⯑parate from all other people, and yet without a ſettlement any where.

Our Saviour's prophecy of the growth of his church, is likewiſe among the [64] more remarkable predictions. He told his diſciples, that "his religion was like a grain of muſtard ſeed, which was the leaſt of all ſeeds; but when it grew up, it ſhould become a great tree, and the fowls of the air ſhould lodge in the branches of it." He told them alſo, that "the gates of hell ſhould never prevail againſt it."

The jewiſh religion was continually inforced by the idea of a jealous God, watching over it, and threatening judg⯑ments from heaven upon every tranſ⯑greſſion. The divine authority was ſtamped openly upon it. The people trembled, and worſhipped.

When the impoſtor Mahomet ſet up for a reformer, he could not indeed in⯑force his religion by divine judgments; but he did it by temporal. He drew [65] his ſword, and held it to the breaſts of his oppoſers; while he promiſed to the obedient a full gratification of their paſ⯑ſions.

But in the chriſtian religion, nothing of this kind appeared. No temporal judgments threatened on one hand: no ſenſual indulgences allured on the other. A few deſponding ignorant mechanics, the diſciples of a perſon crucified as a common malefactor, were all the parade, with which this religion was uſhered in⯑to the world; and all the human aſſiſ⯑tance, which it had to boaſt.—And yet this religion, which oppoſed the ſtrongeſt prejudices, and was oppoſed by the greateſt princes, made its way in a few years, from a remote corner, through the whole Roman empire.— Thus was our Saviour's prophecy, in op⯑poſition to all human calculation, exact⯑ly [66] fulfilled. The leaſt of all ſeeds be⯑came a ſpreading tree; and a church was eſtabliſhed, which could not be de⯑ſtroyed by all the powers of hell.

But although the church of Chriſt could not be deſtroyed, it was corrup⯑ted; and in a courſe of years fell from its genuine purity. This corrupt ſtate of it—the deluſions of popery—the ef⯑forts of reformation, and various other circumſtances relating to it, are not un⯑reaſonably ſuppoſed to be held forth, in the prophetic parts of the new teſta⯑ment.

But I forbear to dwell upon prophe⯑phecies, which are not obvious enough to carry general conviction; tho many of them have been well explained by thoſe,^* [67] who are verſed in the hiſtories, to which they allude. Future times will, in all probability, reflect a ſtronger light upon them. Some of the great prophecies, which we have juſt conſidered, ſhone but with a feeble ray, during the times they were fulfilling, though they now ſtrike us in ſo forcible a manner.

LECTURE V.

[71]AGAINST the evidence ariſing from miracles, and prophecy, we are well aware of what the deiſt objects— that falſe miracles have been wrought by impoſtors; and fallacious prophe⯑cies given out by oracles—and that we cannot ſuppoſe the miracles, and pro⯑phecies of the bible to be better found⯑ed; or in any degree, a more reſpecta⯑ble criterion of truth.

We anſwer, that a very palpable diſtinction may be eſtabliſhed.

Firſt, the true miracle muſt fall un⯑der the examination of men's natural ſenſes ^*. When a prieſt diſplays a phial full of blood, which ſometimes congeals, and ſometimes liquifies, he has no right to our credit, unleſs he ſubmit his phial to our examination. But when [72] a man is raiſed from the dead; when a man is cured of blindneſs; when two or three thouſand people are fed by a pittance, there can be no deception: our ſenſes, which are the only compe⯑tent judges, have the means of judging.

Secondly, the true miracle muſt be performed before credible witneſſes. A buſineſs huddled up in a cloiſter, be⯑fore a few intereſted monks, is not pro⯑perly atteſted. But when an action is performed before the publick eye, as moſt of the miracles of Chriſt were; or before witneſſes, who have totally ex⯑culpated themſelves of having any end, but that of truth, we have all the at⯑teſtation we could wiſh.

Thirdly, the true miracle muſt have an elevated end in view. When we hear of a miracle abetting the intereſt of ſome [73] little corrupt ſociety, we cannot ſuppoſe the Almighty concerned in ſuch an e⯑vent. But the miracles of the goſpel had other ends. They were employed to uſher in an event, on which depended the ſalvation of mankind.

Fourthly, the true miracle muſt be handed down by authentic records, which, take their riſe at the time, when the miracle was performed.^* A vague tradition, or an undated, legendary tale, is no record. But the chriſtian may with great propriety appeal to the ſcrip⯑tures, which he firſt proves were writ⯑ten at the time, when the events they relate, were performed.

Laſtly, the torture of queſtion tends greatly to authenticate the real miracle. The falſe one abhors inquiry. At the reformation detections were abundant. [74] But after the moſt rigorous queſtion, the goſpel-miracles have maintained their credit through the ſpace of ſeven⯑teen hundred years.

Having thus pointed out a few topics of diſtinction between true, and falſe miracles; it is as eaſy to point them out between true, and falſe prophe⯑cies.—The true prophecy, like the true miracle, has a more elevated end, and a more enlarged plan.

When we meet with a prophecy, the avowed end of which is to ſatisfy ſome trivial curioſity, or abet the deſigns of ſome ambitious leader, ſuſpicion muſt needs take the alarm. This was evi⯑dently the character of the ancient ora⯑cles. However directed, whether by bad men, or bad ſpirits, they certainly ſpoke as they were paid, or intimidated. [75] But in the prophecies of the bible we find a different ſtyle. Marked neither by intereſted views, nor by ſervile com⯑pliances, they advance uniformly the ſame great end, which its miracles alſo propoſed, the ſalvation of a ruined world.

Secondly, neither men, nor evil ſpi⯑rits ever gave an inſtance of the power of foretelling future events upon any enlarged plan. What were the deciſions of oracles, but quibling anſwers to ſome preſent queſtion? Or opinions, to which human foreſight was equal? Or at beſt the predictions of events confined to ſome ſhort ſpan of time? When did any oracle foretel an event a thouſand years before its completion? Or from which of them do we find a ſeries of prophecy iſſuing through dif⯑ferent ages, the whole concurring in [76] one point, and yet in every particular exactly fulfilled?

Thus much in anſwer to the particu⯑lar objections of the deiſt; but let me farther add, (as a caution againſt his arts,) that we mean not to ground the truth of our religion upon detached parts, even upon miracles, and prophecies con⯑ſidered alone: but upon the whole ſcheme, and combined force of its evi⯑dence. In this way we judge of every thing elſe; and when we judge other⯑wiſe, we ſhall probably make a falſe eſti⯑mate. Who would judge of a building from a column; or of a country from a field? And yet in this partial view, the deiſt chiefly forms his cavils; and imagines, he has gained a complete vic⯑tory, when he tells us, that the mi⯑racles of the goſpel are marked with the ſame characters, as the ſorceries of [77] evil ſpirits; and its prophecies are juſt as incredible as the divinations of ora⯑cles. We ſhould recommend it to him therefore to inlarge his views; and ex⯑amine the whole chain of evidence from the earlieſt accounts of time.

Let him firſt conſider that remarkable promiſe of "bruiſing the ſerpent's head," which was given as ſoon as the tranſ⯑greſſion was committed. This was the firſt dawn of hope, which God vouch⯑ſafed to a guilty world: and though the figurative language, under which it is couched, was dubious and obſcure; yet its meaning, though not fully un⯑derſtood, was eaſily conceived to con⯑tain ſome promiſe of victory over the adverſary of mankind.

In a few ages after, its meaning was more opened; and the hopes of an in⯑fant-world, [78] thus raiſed, were increaſed by a very remarkable promiſe, that in the iſſue of one of the patriarchs, "all the nations of the earth ſhould be bleſſed." And what is ſtill more remarkable, the promiſe was repeated three ſeveral times. —Here, not only a victory over an enemy was announced; but a ſtate of happineſs in ſome ſhape was declared.

Let him next trace theſe hopes ſtill increaſing, and opening more and more through every age. In the patri⯑archal hiſtory, the ſacrifice of Iſaac, the deliverance from Egypt, the promiſed land, and a variety of other incidents, have much more dignity, and meaning, when we conſider them, not barely as hiſtory; but as typical events leading the mind forward in the contemplation of ſome great ſcheme.

[79]Still more will he find theſe hopes excited by the types and ceremonies of the jewiſh law, which ſeem to have had little meaning, if they had no conceal⯑ed one; and by the ſacrifices, which prevailed over the greateſt part of the known world—all pointing ſtrongly at a particular mode of ſalvation, through a mediator, an atonement, and an offer⯑ing for ſin.

When he has examined theſe ſilent notices, let him next ſurvey the pro⯑phetic writers of the old teſtament. Here he will find the ſame ideas—only expreſſed in bolder language, and a Sa⯑viour now pointed out, as we have ^* juſt ſeen, by very peculiar characteriſ⯑tics.

[80]He will find too among the heathen philoſophers, hiſtorians, and poets ^* [81] many very remarkable traits, however they came by them, of the expectation of ſome great inſtructor.

[82]Thus prepared, let him take up the new Teſtament; and compare all theſe [83] notices, and prophecies with the hiſtory of Chriſt. Has he the candour to ac⯑knowledge any light reflected from one to the other? Can he account for all theſe [84] remarkable reſemblances (remarkable they certainly are) in any more conſiſt⯑ent way; or will he venture to allow, that a chain of evidence deſcends thus far unbroken?

If he hath weighed all this with ſeri⯑ous attention, it will not perhaps now give him ſo much offence to examine the miracles of the goſpel. As the united parts of a regular plan they may proba⯑bly appear to him now in a more advan⯑tageous light: and though he may not be inclined to allow them that conſequence for which we contend; yet he muſt cer⯑tainly allow they make another link in this chain of evidence; to which they give, and from which they receive, ad⯑ditional ſtrength.

He may alſo conſider that from the writ⯑ers of the new teſtament iſſued a new ſeries [85] of prophecies, which after-ages have ſeen as exactly fulfilled, as thoſe of the old.

Having thus examined the external evidence of the chriſtian religion, let him conſider farther, its ſtrong ^* internal evi⯑dence, ariſing from many ſources, but particularly, from the purity of its doc⯑trine. Let him candidly aſk himſelf, if he does not think the chriſtian religion bears all thoſe marks of holineſs, and purity, which he might expect from a revelation of God's will? What religi⯑on was ever calculated to make man happy, like the chriſtian? If it ſhould even be denyed, that it makes individu⯑als happier, from the many reſtraints [86] which it lays upon them (although theſe reſtraints are in fact only the dictates of reaſon) yet no one certainly can deny its direct tendency to promote the happineſs of ſociety. All ſolicitude about the things of this world, all ambitious de⯑ſires, every little ſiniſter intereſt, and with theſe every ground of contention, and every ſource of unhappineſs, is re⯑moved; while every motive to benevo⯑lence is inculcated. In a word, to make themſelves as happy as this world can make them, men need only become chriſtians.

Nor let him end his enquiries here: let him next conſider, that this religion was ſealed by the blood of innumerable martyrs. For although martyrdom, in general, is rather an evidence of the ſin⯑cerity of the ſufferer, than of the truth of the opinion, yet the caſe of the early martyrs was different. They ſuffered, [87] not in ſupport of opinions, but in at⯑teſtation either of matter of fact; or of original information, in which they could not be deceived.

Let his views open ſtill farther, and diſcover to him this religion, (agreeable to the predictions of its author) taking poſſeſſion of great part of the known world, againſt all the oppoſition of its enemies, and without any worldly aſ⯑ſiſtance: let him ſee the heathen deities in all places giving ground before it— their rites and ceremonies aboliſhed— and the uſe of ſacrifice every where ceaſing upon the completion of its end. —Let him have recourſe for theſe things to his prophane hiſtory.

There alſo let him be informed of the total diſperſion of the jewiſh nation, agreeable to the predictions he had read in his bible—a nation, which having [88] been a mere vehicle to introduce the chriſtian religion, immediately diſperſes, and loſes all form of a political ſociety, when that religion becomes eſtabliſhed.

Let him ſeriouſly and attentively ex⯑amine all this chain of evidence, (to which indeed many other links might be added) and he muſt acknowledge, that it is not a pert cavil againſt ſome particular miracle; a quaint objection to ſome obſcure text; or an illiberal jeſt at the myſteries of religion, that can break it. It hangs ſo ſtrong, ſo firm, and ſo connected, from the very begin⯑ning of time to this preſent moment, that he who examines it thoroughly, link by link, and the connection of the whole, muſt either think it ſufficiently ſtrong to hang his faith upon it, or muſt leave himſelf under the imputa⯑tion of having a very bad head, or a very bad heart.

LECTURE VI.

[91]WE have now ſhewn upon what foundation we believe the ſe⯑cond article of our creed, let us next conſider the remaining articles—the hiſ⯑tory of Chriſt, as delivered in ſcripture, and the benefits which he procured for us—the aſſiſtance of the Holy Spirit— the remiſſion of our ſins—and everlaſt⯑ing life.

Firſt, then, we believe, that Chriſt was "conceived of the Holy Ghoſt, and born of the virgin Mary." The manner of this miraculous conception we inquire not into. It is a point not only beyond the limits of human inqui⯑ry; but to us at leaſt a point very un⯑important. We believe juſt the ſcrip⯑ture account of it, and aſſure ourſelves, that if it had concerned us, it would have been more plainly revealed.—One [92] thing, however, we may obſerve on this head, that nothing is ſaid in ſcripture of paying divine honours to the virgin Mary. Thoſe rites are totally of popiſh origin.

We farther believe, that Chriſt "ſuf⯑fered under Pontius Pilate, was cruci⯑fied, dead, and buried; and that he de⯑ſcended into hell,"—that is, we de⯑clare our belief of the ſcripture-account of the circumſtances and the reality of Chriſt's death.

To make an action clear, it is neceſ⯑ſary, firſt, to eſtabliſh its date. This is uſually done by ranging it under the magiſtrate who then preſided, the time of whoſe government is always regiſter⯑ed in ſome public record.—Thus we believe that Chriſt's death happened when Pontius Pilate was governor of [93] Judea. We believe alſo, with regard to the manner of his death, that he was crucified; that he died as really as any mortal ever did; and that he was bu⯑ried in the tomb of Joſeph of Arima⯑thea ^*.

The "deſcent into hell" is undoubt⯑edly a more obſcure expreſſion than might be wiſhed in a creed, and was not indeed added till many ages after the creed was firſt compoſed ^†. But as creeds are human compoſitions, we be⯑lieve this, and every other difficulty, only as conſiſtent with ſcripture. Now the ſenſe which ſeems moſt agreeable to ſcripture, is, that his ſoul remained till [94] his reſurrection in that place (whatever that place is) where the ſpirits of the bleſſed reſt: and the expreſſion ſeems to have been added, only that we may the more ſtrongly expreſs our belief of the reality of his death. This we do, when we expreſs our belief of the ſepa⯑ration of his ſoul and body. "He was buried,"—and "deſcended into hell." The firſt expreſſion relates to his body, which was laid in the grave; the ſecond to his ſoul, which paſſed into the place of departed ſpirits.

We farther believe, that "on the third day he roſe again from the dead." The reſurrection of Chriſt from the dead is a point of the utmoſt import⯑ance to chriſtians. On the certainty of Chriſt's reſurrection depend all hopes of our own. On this article, therefore, we ſhall be more large.

[95]And, in the firſt place, what is there in it that need ſhock our reaſon? It was a wonderful event: But is not nature full of wonderful events? When we ſeriouſly weigh the matter, is it leſs ſtrange, that a grain of corn thrown into the ground ſhould die, and riſe again with new vegetation, than that a human body, in the ſame circumſtances, ſhould aſſume new life? The common⯑neſs of the former makes it familiar to us, but not in any degree leſs unac⯑countable. Are we at all more ac⯑quainted with the manner in which grain germinates, than with the manner in which a body is raiſed from the dead? And is it not obviouſly ſtriking, that the ſame power which can effect the one, may effect the other alſo?—But analogy, though it tend to convince, is no proof. Let us proceed then to mat⯑ter of fact.

[96]That the body was dead, and ſafely lodged in the tomb, and afterwards conveyed out of it, was agreed on, both by thoſe who oppoſed, and by thoſe who favoured the reſurrection. In the circumſtances of the latter fact, they differ widely.

The diſciples tell their ſtory—a very plain and ſimple one—that, ſcarce ex⯑pecting the event, notwithſtanding their maſter had himſelf foretold it, they were ſurpriſed with an account, that the bo⯑dy was gone—that they found after⯑wards, to their great aſtoniſhment, that their maſter was again alive—that they had been ſeveral times with him; and appealed for the truth of what they ſaid to great numbers, who, as well as them⯑ſelves, had ſeen him after his reſurrec⯑tion.

[97]The chief prieſts, on the other ſide, declared the whole to be a forgery; aſ⯑ſerting, that the plain matter of fact was, the diſciples came by night, and ſtole the body away, while the ſoldiers ſlept.

Such a tale, unſupported by evidence, would be liſtened to in no court of juſ⯑tice. It has not even the air of proba⯑bility. Can it be ſuppoſed, that the diſciples, who had fled with terror when they might have reſcued their maſter's life; would venture, in the face of an armed guard, to carry off his dead bo⯑dy?—Or is it more probable, that they found the whole guard aſleep; when we know, that the vigilance of centi⯑nels is ſecured by the ſtricteſt diſci⯑pline?—Beſides, what advantage could ariſe from ſuch an attempt? If they miſcarried, it was certain ruin, both to them and their cauſe. If they ſuc⯑ceeded, [98] it is difficult to ſay what uſe they could make of their ſucceſs. Un⯑leſs they could have produced their dead body alive, the ſecond error would be worſe than the firſt. Their maſter's prophecy of his own reſurrection was an unhappy circumſtance; yet ſtill it was wrapped in a veil of obſcurity. But if his diſciples endeavoured to prove its completion, it was their buſi⯑neſs to look well to the event. A de⯑tection would be ſuch a comment up⯑on their maſter's text, as would never be forgotten.—When a cauſe depends on falſehood, every body knows, the leſs it is moved the better.

This was the caſe of the other ſide. Obſcurity there was wanted. If the chief prieſts had any proof, why did they not produce it? Why were not the diſciples taken up, and examined [99] upon the fact? They never abſcond⯑ed. Why were they not judicially tried? Why was not the trial made public? And why were not authentic memorials of the fraud handed down to poſterity; as authentic memorials were of the fact, recorded at the very time, and place, where it happened? Chriſ⯑tianity never wanted enemies to propa⯑gate its diſparagement.—But nothing of this kind was done. No proof was at⯑tempted—except indeed the teſtimony of men aſleep. The diſciples were ne⯑ver queſtioned upon the fact; and the chief prieſts reſted ſatisfied with ſpread⯑ing an inconſiſtent rumour among the people, impreſſed merely by their own authority.

Whatever records of heathen origin remain, evince the truth of the reſur⯑rection. One is very remarkable. [100] Pontius Pilate ſent the emperor Tibe⯑rius a relation of the death and reſur⯑rection of Chriſt; which were recorded at Rome, as uſual, among other pro⯑vincial matters. This intelligence made ſo great an impreſſion, it ſeems, upon the emperor, that he referred it to the ſenate, whether Jeſus Chriſt of Judea ſhould not be taken into the number of the Roman gods?—Our belief of this fact is chiefly founded upon the teſti⯑mony of Juſtin Martyr, and Tertullian, two learned heathens, in the age ſuc⯑ceeding Chriſt, who became chriſtians from this very evidence, among others, in favour of chriſtianity. In their apo⯑logies, ^* ſtill extant, one of which was made to the ſenate of Rome, the o⯑ther to a Roman governor, they both appeal to theſe records of Pontius Pi⯑late, [101] as then generally known; which we cannot conceive ſuch able apologiſts would have done, if no ſuch records had ever exiſted ^*.

Having ſeen what was of old object⯑ed to the reſurrection of Chriſt, it may be proper alſo to ſee the objections of modern diſbelievers.

[102]And, firſt, we have the ſtale objec⯑tion, that nothing is more common a⯑mong the propagators of every new re⯑ligion, than to delude their ignorant proſelytes with idle ſtories. What a variety of inconſiſtent tales did the vo⯑taries of heatheniſm believe? What abſurdities are adopted into the Maho⯑metan creed? To what ſtrange facts do the vulgar papiſts give credit? And can we ſuppoſe better of the reſurrec⯑tion of Chriſt, than that it was one of thoſe pious frauds, intended merely to impoſe upon the people, and advance the credit of the new ſect?

This is juſt as eaſily ſaid, as that his diſciples ſtole him away, while the guard ſlept. Both are aſſertions without proof. But this objection, I truſt, we have already anſwered, when we en⯑deavoured to eſtabliſh certain topics of [103] diſtinction, between true and falſe mi⯑racles ^*.

Others have objected Chriſt's partial diſcovery of himſelf, after his reſurrec⯑tion. If he had boldly ſhewn him⯑ſelf to the chief prieſts; or publickly to all the people; we might have had a more rational foundation for our belief. But as he had only for his witneſſes, upon this occaſion, a few of his choſen companions, the thing has certainly a more ſecret appearance than might be wiſhed.

This inſinuation is founded upon a paſſage in the acts of the apoſtles, in which it is ſaid, that "God ſhewed him openly, not to all the people, but unto witneſſes choſen before of God." The queſtion is, what is meant by wit⯑neſſes [104] choſen before of God? Certainly nothing more than perſons expreſly, and by particular deſignation intend⯑ed to be the witneſſes of this event. Others might ſee him, if they pleaſed; but theſe were not the people, to whom God ſhewed him openly: this particular deſignation was confined to the "choſen witneſſes."—And is there any thing more in this, than we ſee daily in all legal proceedings? Does not every body wiſh to have the fact, about which he is concerned, authenti⯑cated by indubitable records; or by living teſtimony, if it can be had? Do we not procure the hands of witneſſes, appointed to this purpoſe, in all our deeds and writings?—Let us not, how⯑ever, anſwer the objection by an arbi⯑trary explanation of the text: but let us compare this explanation with the matter of fact.

[105]On the morning of the reſurrection, the apoſtles, who ran to the ſepulchre to make themſelves acquainted with what they had heard, received a meſ⯑ſage from their maſter, injoining them, to meet him in Galilee. It does not appear, that this meſſage was conveyed with any ſecrecy: it is rather probable it was not; and that the diſciples told it to as many as they met. The wo⯑men, it is expreſly ſaid, told it "to the eleven, and all the reſt." Who the reſt were, does not appear: but it is plain from the ſequel, that the thing was ge⯑nerally known; and that as many as choſe either to ſatisfy their faith, or gratify their curioſity, repaired for that purpoſe to Galilee. And thus we find St. Peter making a diſtinction between the voluntary and the choſen witneſs— between thoſe "who had companied with the apoſtles all the time, that the Lord [106] Jeſus went in and out among them, from his baptiſm till his aſcenſion," and thoſe who "were ordained to be the wit⯑neſſes of his reſurrection." ^*

St. Paul goes farther, and in expreſs words tells us, that Chriſt was ſeen ^† "after his reſurrection of above five hundred brethren at once:" and it is probable, from the expreſſion, "at once," that he was ſeen, at different times, by many more.

If then Chriſt thus appeared in Ga⯑lilee to as many as choſe to ſee him; or even if he appeared only to five hun⯑dred people, of whom St. Paul tells us, the greateſt part were ſtill alive, when he wrote his epiſtle, there can ſurely be no reaſonable cauſe of offence at his appearing, beſides theſe, to a few of his [107] choſen companions, who attended by expreſs appointment, as perſons deſign⯑ed to record the event.

In fact, if the ſame method be pur⯑ſued in this inquiry, which is uſual in all others, the evidence of theſe choſen companions is all that is neceſſary. Here are twelve men produced (in ge⯑neral three or four men are thought ſuf⯑ficient) on whoſe evidence the fact de⯑pends. Are they competent witneſſes? Have they thoſe marks about them, which characteriſe men of integrity? Can they be challenged on any one ground of rational exception? If not, their evidence is as ſtrictly legal, as full, and as ſatisfactory, as any reaſon⯑able man can require.—But in this great cauſe, we ſee the evidence is car⯑ried ſtill farther. Here are five hun⯑dred perſons waiting without, ready to [108] add their teſtimony, if any one ſhould require it, to what has already been more than legally proved. So that the argument even addreſſes itſelf to that abſurd diſtinction, which we often find in the cavils of infidelity, between rem certam, and rem certiſſimam.

Upon the whole, then, we may af⯑firm boldly, that this great event of the reſurrection of Chriſt is founded upon evidence equal to the importance of it. If we expect ſtill more, our anſwer is upon record: "If ye believe not Mo⯑ſes and the prophets," God's ordinary means of ſalvation, "neither will ye be perſuaded, though one roſe from the dead."—There muſt be bounds in all human evidence; and he who will be⯑lieve noting, unleſs he have every poſ⯑ſible mode of proof, muſt be an infidel in almoſt every tranſaction of life. [109] With ſuch perſons there is no reaſon⯑ing. They who are not ſatisfied, be⯑cauſe Chriſt did not appear in open pa⯑rade at Jeruſalem; would farther have aſked, if he had appeared in the manner they expected, why did he not appear to every nation upon earth? Or perhaps, why he did not ſhew himſelf to every individual?

To theſe objections may be added a ſcruple, taken from a paſſage of ſcrip⯑ture, in which it is ſaid that "Chriſt ſhould lye three days, and three nights in the heart of the earth:" whereas, in fact, he only lay two nights, one whole day, and a part of two others.

But no figure in ſpeech is more com⯑mon than that of putting a part for the whole. In the Hebrew language per⯑haps this licence is more admiſſable, [110] than in any other. A day and a night complete one whole day; and as our Sa⯑viour lay in the ground a part of every one of theſe three portions of time, he might be ſaid, by an eaſy liberty of ſpeech, to have lain the whole.

LECTURE VII.

[113]WE believe farther, that Chriſt, "aſcended into heaven, and ſitteth on the right hand of God."

Chriſt's aſcenſion into heaven reſts on the ſame kind of proof, as his reſurrec⯑tion. Both of them are events, which the apoſtles were "ordained to witneſs." But though their teſtimony in this caſe, as well as in the reſurrection, is certain⯑ly the moſt legal, and authentic proof; and fully ſufficient for any reaſonable man; yet this does not exclude the vo⯑luntary teſtimony of others. It is evi⯑dent, that the apoſtles were not the ſole eye-witneſſes of this event: for when St. Peter called together the firſt aſſembly of the church to chuſe a ſucceſſor to Judas Iſcariot, he tells them, they muſt neceſſa⯑rily chuſe one, out of thoſe men, who had been witneſſes of all that Chriſt did [114] from his baptiſm, "till his aſcenſion:" and we find, there were in that meeting an hundred and twenty perſons,^* thus qualified.

Be it however as it will, if this arti⯑cle ſhould reſt on a leſs formal proof, than the reſurrection, it is of no great conſequence: for if the reſurrection be fully proved, nobody can well deny the aſcenſion. If the teſtimony of the evan⯑geliſts be allowed to prove the one; their word may be taken to eſtabliſh the other.

With regard to "the right hand of God," it is a ſcriptural expreſſion uſed merely in conformity to our groſs con⯑ceptions; and is not intended to imply any diſtinction of parts, but merely the idea of pre-eminence.

[115]We believe farther, that "Chriſt ſhall come to judge the quick, and the dead."

This article contains the moſt ſeri⯑ous truth, that ever was revealed to mankind. In part it was an article of the heathen creed. To uninlightened nature it ſeemed probable, that, as we had reaſon given us for a guide, we ſhould hereafter be accountable for its abuſe: and the poets, who were the prophets of early days, and durſt deli⯑ver thoſe truths under the veil of fable, which the philoſopher kept more to himſelf, give us many traits of the po⯑pular belief on this ſubject ^* But the goſpel alone threw a full light upon this awful truth.

In examining this great article, the curioſity of human nature, ever delight⯑ing [116] to explore unbeaten regions, hath often been tempted, beyond its limits, into fruitleſs inquiries; ſcrutinizing the time of this event; and ſettling with vain preciſion, the circumſtances of it. All curioſity of this kind is idle at leaſt; if not preſumptuous. When the Al⯑mighty hath thrown a veil over any part of his diſpenſation, it is the folly of man to endeavour to draw it aſide.

Let us then leave all fruitleſs inquiries about this great event; and employ our thoughts chiefly upon ſuch circumſtan⯑ces of it, as moſt concern us.—Let us animate our hopes with the ſoothing reflection, that we have our ſentence, in a manner, in our own power,—that the ſame gracious goſpel, which directs our lives, ſhall direct the judgment we re⯑ceive,—that the ſame gracious perſon, [117] ſhall be our judge, who died for our ſins—and that his goodneſs, we are aſ⯑ſured, will ſtill operate towards us; and make the kindeſt allowances for all our infirmities.

But leſt our hopes ſhould be too buoyant, let us conſider, on the other hand, what an awful detail againſt us will then appear. The ſubject of that grand enquiry will be all our tranſgreſ⯑ſions of known duty—all our omiſſions of knowing better—our ſecret intenti⯑ons—our indulged evil-thoughts—the bad motives, which often accompany our moſt plauſible actions—and, we are told, even our idle words.—"He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."—Then ſhall it be known, whether we have an⯑ſwered the great ends of life?—Whe⯑ther we have made this world ſubſervi⯑ent to a better?—Whether we have [118] prepared ourſelves for a ſtate of happi⯑neſs in heaven, by endeavouring to com⯑municate happineſs to our fellow-crea⯑tures upon earth? Whether we have reſtrained our appetites, and paſſions; and reduced them within the bounds of reaſon and religion? Or, whether we have given ourſelves up to pleaſure, gain, or ambition; and formed ſuch at⯑tachments to this world, as fit us for nothing elſe; and leave us no hopes ei⯑ther of gaining, or of enjoying a better? It will be happy for us, if on all theſe heads of inquiry, we can anſwer with⯑out diſmay.—Worldly diſtinctions, we know, will then be of no avail. The proudeſt of them will be then confound⯑ed. "Naked came we into the world; and naked muſt we return." We can carry nothing beyond the grave, but our virtues, and our vices.

[119]I ſhall conclude what hath been ſaid on the laſt judgment with a collection of paſſages on this head from ſcripture; where only our ideas of it can be ob⯑tained. And though moſt of theſe paſ⯑ſages are figurative; yet as figures are intended to illuſtrate realities, and are indeed the only illuſtrations of which this ſubject is capable, we may take it for granted, that theſe figurative ex⯑preſſions are intended to convey a juſt idea of the truth.—With a view to make the more impreſſion upon you, I ſhall place theſe paſſages in a regular ſe⯑ries; though collected from various parts.

"The Lord himſelf ſhall deſcend from heaven with his holy angels—The trumpet ſhall ſound; and all that are in the grave, ſhall hear his voice, and come forth—Then ſhall he ſit upon the [120] throne of his glory; and all nations ſhall be gathered before him—the books ſhall be opened; and men ſhall be judged according to their works.— They who have ſinned without law, ſhall periſh, (that is be judged) without law; and they who have ſinned in the law, ſhall be judged by the law.—Unto whomſoever much is given, of him ſhall be much required.—Then ſhall he ſay to them on his right hand, come, ye bleſſed, inherit the kingdom prepared for you. And to them on his left, depart from me, ye curſed, into ever⯑laſting fire prepared for the devil and his angels.—Then ſhall the righteous ſhine forth in the preſence of their fa⯑ther; while the wicked ſhall go into everlaſting puniſhment: there ſhall be wailing and gnaſhing of teeth.—What manner of perſons ought we then to be in all holy converſation, and godlineſs? [121] looking for, and haſtening unto, the day of our Lord; when the heavens, being on fire, ſhall be diſſolved, and the elements ſhall melt with fervent heat.— Wherefore, beloved, ſeeing that we look for ſuch things, let us be diligent, that we may be found of him in peace, without ſpot, and blameleſs; that each of us may receive that bleſſed ſentence, "Well done, thou good and faithful ſervant: thou haſt been faithful over a little, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."

We believe, farther, in "the Holy Ghoſt;" that is, we believe every thing which the ſcriptures tell us of the Holy Spirit of God.—We inquire not into the nature of its union with the God⯑head. We take it for granted, that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghoſt, have ſome kind of union, and [122] ſome kind of diſtinction; becauſe both this union and this diſtinction are plain⯑ly pointed out in ſcripture; but how they exiſt, we inquire not; concluding here, as in other points of difficulty, that if a clearer information had been neceſſary, it would have been afforded.

With regard to the operations of the Holy Spirit of God, (beſides which, little more on this head is revealed) we believe, that it directed the apoſtles, and enabled them to propagate the go⯑ſpel—and that it will aſſiſt all good men in the conſcientious diſcharge of a pious life.

The ſcripture-doctrine, with regard to the aſſiſtance we receive from the Holy Spirit of God, (which is the moſt eſſential part of this article) is briefly this.

[123]Our beſt endeavours are inſufficient. We are unprofitable ſervants, after all; and cannot pleaſe God, unleſs ſancti⯑fied, and aſſiſted by his Holy Spirit. Hence the life of a good man hath been ſometimes called a ſtanding miracle; ſomething beyond the common courſe of nature. To attain any degree of goodneſs, we muſt be ſupernaturally aſ⯑ſiſted.

At the ſame time, we are aſſured of this aſſiſtance, if we ſtrive to obtain it by fervent prayer, and a pious life. If we truſt in ourſelves, we ſhall fail. If we truſt in God, without doing all we can ourſelves, we ſhall fail likewiſe. And if we continue obſtinate in our perverſeneſs, we may at length totally incapacitate ourſelves from being the temples of the Holy Ghoſt.

[124]And indeed what is there in all this, which common life does not daily illuſ⯑trate? Is any thing more common, than for the intellect of one man to aſ⯑ſiſt that of another? Is not the whole ſcheme of education an infuſion of knowledge and virtue not our own? Is it not evident too, that nothing of this kind can be communicated without ap⯑plication on the part of the learner? Are not the efforts of the teacher in a manner neceſſarily proportioned to this application? If the learner becomes lan⯑guid in his purſuits, are not the endea⯑vours of the teacher of courſe diſcouraged? And will they not at length wholly fail, if it be found in the end they anſwer no purpoſe?—In a manner analogous to this, the Holy Spirit of God co-operates with the endeavours of man. Our en⯑deavours are neceſſary to obtain God's aſſiſtance: and the more earneſtly theſe [125] endeavours are exerted, the meaſure of this grace will of courſe be greater. But, on the other hand, if theſe endea⯑vours languiſh, the aſſiſtance of heaven will leſſen in proportion; and if we be⯑have with obſtinate perverſeneſs, it will by degrees wholly fail. It will not al⯑ways ſtrive with man; but will leave him a melancholy prey to his own vi⯑cious inclinations.

As to the manner, in which this ſpi⯑ritual aſſiſtance is conveyed, we make no inquiry. We can as little compre⯑hend it, as we can the action of our ſouls upon our bodies. We are ſenſi⯑ble, that our ſouls do act upon our bo⯑dies; and it is a belief equally conſo⯑nant to reaſon, that the divine influence may act upon our ſouls. The advocate for natural religion need not be remind⯑ed, that among the heathens, a divine [126] influence was a received opinion. The prieſts of every oracle were ſuppoſed to be inſpired by their gods; and the he⯑roes of antiquity were univerſally be⯑lieved to act under the influence of a ſupernatural aſſiſtance; by which it was conceived they performed actions be⯑yond human power ^*.—This ſhews at [127] leaſt, that there is nothing in this doc⯑trine repugnant to reaſon.

LECTURE VIII.

[131]WE believe, farther, in the "holy catholic church," and the "communion of ſaints."

"I believe in the holy catholic church," is certainly a very obſcure expreſſion to a proteſtant; as it is very capable of a popiſh conſtruction, implying our truſt in the infallibility of the church; where⯑as we attribute infallibility to no church upon earth. The moſt obvious ſenſe, therefore, in which it can be conſidered as a proteſtant article of belief, is this, that we call no particular ſociety of chriſtians a holy catholic church; but believe, that all true and ſincere chriſ⯑tians, of whatever communion, or par⯑ticular opinion, ſhall be the objects of God's mercy. The patriarchal cove⯑nant was confined to a few. The jewiſh church ſtood alſo on a very narrow ba⯑ſis. But the chriſtian church, we be⯑lieve, [132] is truly catholic: its gracious of⯑fers are made to all mankind; and God through Chriſt will take out of every nation ſuch as ſhall be ſaved.

The "communion of ſaints," is an expreſſion equally obſcure: and what⯑ever might have been the original mean⯑ing of it, it certainly does not reſolve itſelf into a very obvious one to us. If we ſay, we mean by it, that good chriſ⯑tians living together on earth, ſhould exerciſe all offices of charity among themſelves, no one will contradict the article; but many perhaps may aſk, Why is it made an article of faith? It relates not ſo much to faith, as to prac⯑tice: and the ten commandments might juſt as well be introduced as articles of our belief.

[133]To this I can only ſuggeſt, that it may have a place among the articles of our creed, as a teſt of our enlarged ideas of chriſtianity, and as oppoſed to the narrow-mindedneſs of ſome chriſtians, who harbour very uncharitable opinions againſt all who are not of their own church; and ſcruple not to ſhew their opinions by uncharitable actions. The papiſts particularly deny ſalvation to any but thoſe of their own communion, and perſecute thoſe of other perſuaſions where they have the power.—In oppo⯑ſition to this, we profeſs our belief of the great chriſtian law of charity. We believe we ought to think charitably of good chriſtians of all denominations; and ought to practiſe a free and unre⯑ſtrained communion of charitable of⯑fices towards them.

[134]In this light the ſecond part of the article depends upon the firſt. By the "holy catholic church," we mean all ſincere chriſtians, of whatever church, or peculiarity of opinion; and by "the communion of ſaints," a kind and cha⯑ritable behaviour towards them.

Though it is probable this was not the original meaning of the article, yet as the reformers of the liturgy did not think it proper to make an alteration, we are led to ſeek ſuch a ſenſe as ap⯑pears moſt conſiſtent with ſcripture.— We are aſſured, that this article, as well as the "deſcent into hell," is not of the ſame antiquity as the reſt of the creed. ^*

We profeſs our belief farther in the "forgiveneſs of ſins."—The ſcripture-doctrine [135] of ſin, and of the guilt, which ariſes from it, is this.

Man was originally created in a ſtate of innocence, yet liable to fall. Had he perſevered in his obedience, he might have enjoyed that happineſs, which is the conſequence of perfect virtue. But when this happy ſtate was loſt, his paſ⯑ſions and appetites became diſordered, and prone to evil. Since that time we have all been, more or leſs, involved in ſin, and are all therefore, in the ſcrip⯑ture-language, "under the curſe;" that is, we are naturally in a ſtate of un⯑pardoned guilt.

In this mournful exigence, what was to be done? In a ſtate of nature, it is true, we might be ſorry for our ſins. Nature too might dictate repentance. But ſorrow and repentance, though they [136] may put us on our guard for the fu⯑ture, can make no atonement for ſins already committed. A reſolution to run no more into debt may make us cautious; but can never diſcharge a debt already contracted. ^*

In this diſtreſs of nature, Jeſus Chriſt came into the world. He threw a light upon the gloom that ſurrounded us.— He ſhewed us, that in this world we [137] were loſt—that the law of nature could not ſave us—that the tenor of that law was perfect obedience, with which we could not comply—but that God, thro his mediation, offered us a method of regaining happineſs—that he came to make that atonement for us, which we could not make for ourſelves—and to redeem us from that guilt, which would otherwiſe overwhelm us—that faith and obedience were, on our parts, the con⯑ditions required in this gracious cove⯑nant—and that God promiſed us, on his, the pardon of our ſins, and ever⯑laſting life—that we were firſt therefore to be made holy through the goſpel of Chriſt, and then we might expect ſal⯑vation through his death: "Us, who were dead in treſpaſſes and ſins, would he quicken. Chriſt would redeem us from the curſe of the law. By grace we ſhould be ſaved through faith; and [138] that not of ourſelves: it was the gift of God. Not of works, leſt any man ſhould boaſt"

This doctrine is generally called the ſatisfaction or the atonement of Chriſt, and has given more offence to the deiſt than almoſt any part of the chriſtian ſcheme. "Could not God, he cries, forgive us freely, and ſave us without an expedient which ſounds ſo harſhly in our ears? The Son of God comes down upon earth, and ſuffers death— for what? Why to take upon himſelf the ſins of man; and, in the ſcripture-phraſe, to nail them to his croſs.

This is ſurely unbecoming language. How can any one preſume to aſſert, that we may be forgiven freely, unleſs he can perfectly ſcan, and thoroughly underſtand, God's whole ſcheme of mo⯑ral [139] government? What do we know of the nature of unatoned ſin and guilt? or of the immutable laws of eternal juſ⯑tice? Can the deiſt give us any account of theſe things? Or can he reconcile ſin and juſtice in ſo ſatisfactory a manner, even to human reaſon, as the ſcripture does, in the account it gives us of the fall of man, and of his reſtoration through Chriſt? Nothing is more eaſy than to cavil; nothing more difficult than to form a conſiſtent plan in oppoſition to the truth.

Again, how can the deiſt talk of the redemption of the world by Chriſt, as an expedient that ſounds ſo harſhly in our ears? It is true, it is an aſtoniſh⯑ing event, and, in all its greatneſs, wholly new and unparallelled: but yet, when God has revealed it to us, our rea⯑ſon totally cloſes with it. We are recon⯑ciled [140] to it by obſerving it analogous to God's whole ſcheme of moral govern⯑ment; and to the uſe of ſacrifices, which every where prevailed in the world.

What is the whole ſtate of infancy and youth, from one end to the other, but a continued ſcene of preventing, and of reſcuing from evils, at the expence of pains, and care, and ſuffering, in the maſter, the friend, the parent, or who⯑ever acts the part of the kind media⯑tor?—How many, again, after they are advanced in life, do we daily ſee brought into ſuch circumſtances, that, without the friendly mediation of their fellow-creatures, they would be totally ruined? Some, through the means of others, are relieved from painful diſ⯑orders, under which they might have languiſhed to the end of life. Others, again, through their follies and exceſ⯑ſes [141] have brought their affairs into ſuch a ſtate of ruin, as could never be re⯑deemed, unleſs their friends, by an ex⯑penſive mediation, ſhould interfere.

Theſe inſtances, and many others, that might be drawn from the circle and commerce of human life, and ma⯑ny, in which innocence ſuffers for guilt, ſhows at leaſt, that the ſufferings of Chriſt for mankind, and the redemp⯑tion of the world through thoſe ſuffer⯑ings, are analogous to that ſtated order of things, and ordinary courſe of moral government, which God has eſtabliſhed in the world. If our reaſon be not ſhocked in one caſe, why ſhould it be ſo in the other?—Let us then take in the whole ſcheme of things, and not garble it as we pleaſe. Let us bold⯑ly and atheiſtically call God's whole plan of moral government a ſcheme of [142] folly and impotence; and not, with the inconſiſtency of a timid deiſt, allow one part, and queſtion the reſt.

The deiſt may be farther aſked, What he thinks of the origin of ſacri⯑fices? A ſacrifice is a rite ſo apparent⯑ly abſurd, that one would hardly ima⯑gine any one could preſcribe it to him⯑ſelf: and yet we know, that all nations, however remote, and unconnected with each other, joined in it with one con⯑ſent.—Let us preſs the deiſt a little up⯑on this head. Whence is it, does he think, that all the world has joined in ſo ſtrange a rite, as that of putting an innocent creature to death, to appeaſe the anger of an incenſed God? ^* Can [143] he give any rational account of its ori⯑gin and inſtitution?—Or is he con⯑ſtrained to allow with us, that the only rational account of this matter is, that the uſe of ſacrifices was inſtituted by God himſelf, and injoined to our firſt parents, immediately upon the fall, [144] and ſo continued, as a type of that great ſacrifice, which was afterwards to be offered for the ſins of men?—A type, we know, is intended as an intro⯑duction to the thing typified: and men through all ages, from father to ſon, have acquieſced in a practice, without knowing from whence they had it, that they might ſilently fulfil, though with⯑out intending it, the ſecret purpoſes of heaven; which meant by this rite to in⯑troduce gradually the idea of that great ſacrifice which was to be made for the ſins of the world; and which, however late it became viſible, was ſlain in effect "from the foundation of the world," and be⯑gan unqueſtionably to operate for the good of man, from the inſtant of the fall. Sacrifices might perhaps then be, what the Lord's ſupper now is, a ſort partaking of the body and blood of Chriſt. And what is ſtill more remark⯑able, [145] the type became univerſally abo⯑liſhed, wherever it became fulfilled.

Does the unbeliever acquieſce in this account of the origin of ſacrifice? Or, will he rather reſolve it into ſome gene⯑ral deduction of human reaſon, and at⯑tribute it to the mere invention of man?

Be it ſo. On this ground let us fol⯑low him: and on this ground he muſt at leaſt allow, that the uſe of ſacrifice proves all mankind to have had, from nature, an idea, that they ſtood in need of other merits, beſides their own, to re⯑deem them from ſin—that the light of reaſon pointed the neceſſity of ſome a⯑tonement to make up their own defi⯑ciences—and that offering the life of an innocent creature for their tranſgreſſions, came the neareſt of any thing, they could conceive, to the idea of ſuch an atonement.

[146]Thus this great article of our faith, though ſo offenſive to many of the ad⯑vocates for reaſon, appears both ſimilar to God's moral government, and agree⯑able to the general ſenſe of mankind. God is the ſame yeſterday, to day, and for ever: and a connection, a unifor⯑mity, and analogy run through all his works, if it was in our power to trace them with accuracy, and preciſion.

If the unbeliever ſtill inquires farther; and cannot acquieſce without a plain account of the manner, in which the death of Chriſt ſatisfies God for the ſins of the world, we muſt here be conſtrain⯑ed to leave him. In ſuch inquiries he will rarely meet with ſatisfaction. But let him be conſiſtent. Let him be an uni⯑verſal ſceptic. Let him doubt a future ſtate. Let him doubt the immortality of his ſoul. Let him doubt even his own ex⯑iſtence: for which of theſe things can [147] he explain?—If we think juſtly, we ſhould diſtinguiſh between what is, and what is not, capable of proof. Let us try the truth of ſcripture by every me⯑thod, that human reaſon can invent: but let us not imagine, that human reaſon can comprehend the whole ſyſtem of the Chriſtian religion. We enter freely into a rational proof of the being of a God: but we do not preſume to comprehend his attributes. What relates to man in the ſcheme of our redemption is very clear. God's part indeed is beyond our comprehenſion. But with this we have little to do. What is it to us, in what manner God performs this gracious work? Our concern lies nearer home. God has of⯑fered us the pardon of our ſins, and everlaſting life through the merits of Chriſt. But if, in the niceneſs of our caſuiſtry, we reject this offer,—we may [148] have reaſon to repent—if we reject it through negligence, we certainly ſhall.

That we may have a more complete view of the danger of ſin, (the cauſe of our miſery, and of our Saviour's death) I ſhall conclude this article with enume⯑rating its ſeveral kinds.

And firſt I ſhall mention the lighteſt in this catalogue, ſins of ignorance. A man may commit a ſin without know⯑ing it. He may have his doubts, at the time of acting, without the means of ſolving them. His ignorance does not alter the nature of the action in itſelf; though it mitigates the guilt in him. Such ſins indeed, one would hope, are ſmall of⯑fences in the eyes of a merciful God: —and yet St. Paul heavily bewails his having perſecuted the church of Chriſt, notwithſtanding he did it ignorantly. [149] But St. Paul had few ſins to repent of, but thoſe of ignorance.

Sins of negligence are more involved in guilt. Not to uſe the opportunities we have, argues great coolneſs in religi⯑on; and great inattention to our duty. —And on this head we ſhould be much upon our guard: for many ſins, which may perhaps appear to be thoſe of igno⯑rance only, may in fact be charged upon our own negligence, and want of atten⯑tion to thoſe means of knowing better, which God hath afforded us.

Next to theſe we may rank ſins of ſurprize; into which we are commonly betrayed by ſome ſudden temptation. Sins of this kind ſhould be ſincerely re⯑pented of, and manfully withſtood.—If through our indulgence we ſuffer them to get ground upon us, they are no lon⯑ger [150] ſins of ſurprize: they change their name; and muſt be claſſed under the head of habitual ſins.

Habitual ſins are ſtained with a very high degree of guilt. When we thus become the ſlaves of vice, our minds are tainted, and the ſenſe of religion is loſt. Even ſmaller ſins, when their fibres are thus woven into our nature, attain enormous growth. Of this alſo we may be aſſured, that when we have thus loſt the command of ourſelves, we may proceed any length.—If a proper temptation ariſes, what is there to check us?—We may be carried to the laſt de⯑gree of wickedneſs; to which the ſcrip⯑tures give the name of preſumptuous ſins.

By preſumptuous ſins are meant thoſe black crimes; which have no want of [151] knowledge to excuſe—no ſudden temp⯑tation to extenuate; but are acted with deliberate contrivance; in open defiance of law, conſcience, and religion; and attended with all thoſe horrid circum⯑ſtances, which ſhew the laſt depravity of human nature.

From the guilt of every kind of ſin let us guard with all our care. In pre⯑ſumptuous ſins none of us, I ſhould hope, can well be involved. The mind yet unhardened, ſtarts with horror at ſuch black tranſgreſſions. Let us then always endeavour to keep alive this quick ſenſibility; and preſerve ourſelves at leaſt from habitual ſins: for theſe are what firſt corrupt us. If we are not intangled in theſe, we may hope, that all our ſins of negligence and ſurprize, if we guard againſt them as well as hu⯑man frailty will permit, may find for⯑giveneſs [152] through the merits of Chriſt, at the hands of that God, who knowing the infirmities of his creatures, is not extreme to mark what they have done amiſs.

LECTURE IX.

[155]WE believe farther "in the reſur⯑rection of the body."—This article preſumes our belief in the im⯑mortality of the ſoul.

What that principle of life is, which we call the ſoul; how it is diſtinguiſhed from mere animal life; how it is con⯑nected with the body; and in what ſtate it ſubſiſts, when its bodily functions ceaſe; are among thoſe indiſſoluble queſtions, with which nature every where abounds. But notwithſtanding the dif⯑ficulties, which attend the diſcuſſion of theſe queſtions, the truth itſelf hath in all ages of the world been the popular creed. Men believed their ſouls were immortal from their own feelings, ſo impreſſed with an expectation of immor⯑tality—from obſerving the progreſſive ſtate of the ſoul, capable, even after the [156] body had attained its full ſtrength, of ſtill higher improvements both in know⯑ledge, and in habits of virtue—from the analogy of all nature, dying and re⯑viving in every part—from their ſituati⯑on here ſo apparently incomplete in it⯑ſelf; and from a variety of other topics, which the reaſon of man was able to ſuggeſt.—But though nature could ob⯑ſcurely ſuggeſt this great truth; yet Chriſtianity alone threw a clear light upon it, and impreſſed it with a full degree of conviction upon our minds.

But the article before us proceeds a ſtep farther. It not only implies the immortality of the ſoul; but aſſerts the reſurrection of the body.—Nor was this doctrine wholly new to nature. In its con⯑ceptions of a future life, we always find the ſoul in an imbodied ſtate. It was airy indeed and bloodleſs; but ſtill it [157] had the parts of a human body, and could perform all its operations.

In theſe particulars the ſcripture does not gratify our curioſity. From various paſſages we are led to believe, that the body ſhall certainly riſe again: but in what manner, or of what ſubſtance, we pretend not to examine. We learn "that it is ſown in corruption, and raiſed in incorruption, that it is ſown in diſhonour, and raiſed in glory; that it is ſown a natural body, and raiſed a ſpiritual body:" from all which we ga⯑ther, that whatever ſameneſs our bodies may have, they will hereafter take a more ſpiritualized nature; and will not be ſubject to thoſe infirmities, to which they were ſubject on earth. Farther on this head, it behoves us not to inquire.

[158]Inſtead, therefore, of entering into any metaphyſical diſquiſitions of iden⯑tity, or any other curious points, in which this deep ſubject might engage us, all which, as they are founded up⯑on uncertainty, muſt end in doubt, it is better to draw this doctrine, as well as all others, into practical uſe: and the uſe we ought to make of it is, to pay that regard to our bodies, which is due to them—not vainly to adorn—not luxuriouſly to pamper them; but to keep them as much as poſſible from the pollu⯑tions of the world; and to lay them down in the grave undefiled, there to be ſealed up in expectation of a bleſſed reſur⯑rection.

Laſtly, we believe "in the life ever⯑laſting;" in which article we expreſs our faith in the eternity of a future ſtate of rewards and puniſhments.

[159]This article is nearly related to the laſt, and is involved in the ſame obſcu⯑rity. In what the reward of the virtu⯑ous will conſiſt, after death, our reaſon gives us no information. Conjecture indeed it will, in a matter which ſo nearly concerns us; and it hath conjec⯑tured in all ages: but information it hath none, except from the word of God; and even there, our limited ca⯑pacities can receive it only in general and figurative expreſſions. We are told, "there will then reign fulneſs of joy, and pleaſures for evermore—that the righteous ſhall have an inheritance in⯑corruptible, undefiled, that fadeth not away—where they ſhall ſhine forth, as the ſun, in the preſence of their father— where error, and ſin, and miſery ſhall be no more—where ſhall be aſſembled an innumerable company of angels, the general aſſembly of the church, the ſpi⯑rits [160] of juſt men made perfect—that they ſhall neither hunger, nor thirſt any more—that all tears ſhall be wiped from their eyes—that there ſhall be neither death, nor ſorrow, nor pain."

From theſe, and ſuch expreſſions as theſe, though we cannot collect the en⯑tire nature of a future ſtate of happi⯑neſs, yet we can eaſily gather a few cir⯑cumſtances, which muſt of courſe at⯑tend it; as, that it will be very great— that it will laſt for ever—that it will be of a nature entirely different from the happineſs of this world—that, as in this world, our paſſions and appetites pre⯑vail; in the next, reaſon and virtue will have the ſuperiority — "hunger and thirſt, tears and ſorrow," we read, "will be no more"—that is, all uneaſy paſ⯑ſions and appetites will then be annihi⯑lated—all vain fears will be then re⯑moved [161] —all anxious and intruding cares —and we ſhall feel ourſelves compleat and perfect; and our happineſs, not de⯑pendent, as here, upon a thouſand pre⯑carious circumſtances, both within and without ourſelves, but conſiſtent, uni⯑form, and ſtable.

On the other hand, we pretend not to inquire in what the puniſhment of the wicked conſiſts. In the ſcripture we find many expreſſions, from which we gather, that it will be very great. It is there called, "an everlaſting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels— where the worm dieth not, and the fire is never quenched—where ſhall be weep⯑ing, and gnaſhing of teeth—where the wicked ſhall drink of the wrath of God, poured without mixture, into the cup of his indignation—where they ſhall have no reſt, neither by day nor night."

[162]Though it becomes us certainly to put our interpretations with the greateſt caution and humility upon ſuch paſſa⯑ges as theſe; yet "the worm that ne⯑ver dieth," and "the fire that is never quenched," are ſtrong expreſſions, and hardly to be evaded by any refinements of verbal criticiſm. Let the deiſt brave⯑ly argue down his fears, by demon⯑ſtrating the abſurdity of conſuming a ſpirit in material fire. Let him fully explain the nature of future puniſh⯑ment; and convince us, that where it cannot reform, it muſt be unjuſt.—But let us, with more modeſty, lay our hands humbly upon our breaſts, confeſs our ignorance; revere the appointments of God, whatever they may be; and prepare to meet them with holy hope, and trembling joy, and awful ſubmiſ⯑ſion to his righteous will.

[163]To the unenlightened heathen the eternity of future puniſhments ap⯑peared no ſuch unreaſonable doctrine. Their ſtate of the damned was of eter⯑nal duration. A vulture for ever tore thoſe entrails, which were for ever re⯑newed. ^*

Of one thing, however, we may be well aſſured, (which may ſet us entirely at reſt in all our enquiries on this deep ſubject,) that every thing will, in the end, be right—that a juſt and merciful God muſt act agreeably to juſtice and mercy—and that the firſt of theſe at⯑tributes [164] will moſt aſſuredly be tempered with the latter.

From the doctrine of future rewards and puniſhments, the great and moſt convincing practical truth which ariſes, is, that we cannot exert too much pains in qualifying ourſelves for the happineſs of a future world. As this happineſs will laſt for ever, how beneficial will be the exchange—this world, "which is but for a moment, for that everlaſting weight of glory, which fadeth not away."

Vice, on the other hand, receives the greateſt diſcouragement from this doc⯑trine, as every ſin we commit in this world may be conſidered as an addition to an everlaſting account in the next.

LECTURE X.

[167]HAVING conſidered the articles of our faith, we proceed to the rules of our practice. Theſe, we know, are of ſuch importance, that, let our faith be what it will, unleſs it influence our lives, it is of no value. At the ſame time, if it be what it ought to be, it will certainly have this influence.

On this head, the ten commandments are firſt placed before us; from which the compoſers of the catechiſm, as well as many other divines, have drawn a com⯑pleat ſyſtem of chriſtian duties. But this is perhaps rather too much. ^* Both [168] Moſes, in the law, and Chriſt in the goſpel, ſeem to have inlarged greatly on morals: and each of them, eſpecial⯑ly the latter, to have added many prac⯑tical rules, which do not obviouſly fall under any of the commandments.

But though we cannot call the deca⯑logue a compleat rule of duty, we ac⯑cept it with the utmoſt reverence, as the firſt great written law that ever God communicated to man. We conſider it as an eternal monument, inſcribed by [169] the finger of God himſelf, with a few ſtrong, indelible characters; not defin⯑ing the minutiae of morals; but injoin⯑ing thoſe great duties only, which have the moſt particular influence upon the happineſs of ſociety; and prohibiting thoſe enormous crimes, which are the greateſt ſources of its diſtreſs.

The ten commandments are divided into two parts, from their being origi⯑nally written upon two tables. From hence one table is ſuppoſed to contain our duty to God; the other, our duty to man. But this ſeems to be an un⯑authorized diviſion; and hath a tenden⯑cy to a verbal miſtake; as if ſome du⯑ties were owing to God; and others to man: whereas in fact we know that all duties are equally owing to God.—How⯑ever, if we avoid this miſconception, the diviſion into our duty to God, and [170] our duty to man, may be a convenient one.—The four firſt commandments are contained in the firſt table: the remain⯑ing ſix in the ſecond.

At the head of them ſtands a prohi⯑bition to acknowledge more than one God.

The ſecond commandment bears a near relation to the firſt. The former forbids polytheiſm; the latter idola⯑try: and with this belief, and prac⯑tice, which generally accompanied each other, all the nations of the earth were tainted, when theſe commandments were given: eſpecially thoſe nations, by whom the Jews were ſurrounded.

The third commandment injoins re⯑verence to God's name. This is a ſtrong religious reſtraint in private life; [171] and as a ſolemn oath is the ſtricteſt ob⯑ligation among men, nothing can be of greater ſervice to ſociety, than to hold it in general reſpect.

The fourth commands the obſervance of the ſabbath; as one of the beſt means of preſerving a ſenſe of God, and of re⯑ligion in the minds of men.

The ſecond table begins with injoin⯑ing obedience to parents; a duty in a peculiar manner adapted to the jewiſh ſtate, before any regular government was erected. The temporal promiſe, which guards it, and which can relate only to the jews, may either mean a promiſe of long life to each individual, who obſerved the precept: or, of ſta⯑bility to the whole nation upon the ge⯑neral obſervance of it: which is per⯑haps a better interpretation.

[172]The five next commandments are prohibitions of the moſt capital crimes, which pollute the heart of man, and in⯑jure the peace of ſociety.

The firſt of them forbids murder, which is the greateſt injury that one man can do another; as of all crimes the damage in this is the moſt irrepar⯑able.

The ſeventh commandment forbids adultery. The black infidelity, and injury which accompany this crime; the confuſion in families, which often ſuc⯑ceeds it; and the general tendency it hath to deſtroy all the domeſtic happi⯑neſs of ſociety, ſtain it with a very high degree of guilt.

The ſecurity of our property is the object of the eighth commandment.

[173]The ſecurity of our characters, is the object of the ninth.

The tenth reſtrains us not only from the actual commiſſion of ſin; but from thoſe bad inclinations, which give it birth.

After the commandments follows a commentary upon them, intitled, "our duty to God," and "our duty to our neighbour." the latter of which might more properly be intitled, "Our duty to our neighbour, and ourſelves."— Theſe ſeem intended as an explanation of the commandments upon Chriſtian principles; with the addition of other duties, which do not properly fall un⯑der any of them. On theſe we ſhall be more large.

[174]The firſt part of our duty to God, is, "to believe in him;" which is the foundation of all religion, and there⯑fore offers itſelf firſt to our conſiderati⯑on. But this great point hath been al⯑ready conſidered. ^*

The next branch of our duty to God, is to fear him. The fear of God is impreſſed equally upon the righteous man, and the ſinner. But the fear of the ſinner conſiſts only in the dread of puniſhment. It is the neceſſary con⯑ſequence of guilt; and is not that fear, which we conſider as a duty. The fear of God here meant, conſiſts in that re⯑verential awe, that conſtant apprehen⯑ſion of his preſence, which ſecures us from offending him.—When we are be⯑fore our ſuperiors, we naturally feel a reſpect, which prevents our doing any [175] thing indecent in their ſight. Such (only in a higher degree) ſhould be our reverence of God, in whoſe ſight, we know, we always ſtand. If a ſenſe of the divine preſence hath ſuch an influ⯑ence over us, as to check the bad ten⯑dency of our thoughts, words, and ac⯑tions; we may properly be ſaid to be impreſſed with the fear of God.—If not, we neglect one of the beſt means of checking vice, which the whole circle of religious reſtraint affords.

Some people go a ſtep farther; and ſay, that as every degree of light beha⯑viour, though ſhort of an indecency, is improper before our ſuperiors; ſo is it likewiſe in the preſence of almighty God, who is ſo much ſuperior to every thing, that can be called great on earth.

[176]But this is the language of ſuperſti⯑tion. Mirth, within the bounds of in⯑nocence, cannot be offenſive to God. He is offended only with vice. Vice, in the loweſt degree, is hateful to him: but a formal, ſet behaviour, can be ne⯑ceſſary only to preſerve human diſtinc⯑tions.

The next duty to God is that of love, which is founded upon his good⯑neſs to his creatures. Even this world, mixed as it is with evil, exhibits various marks of the goodneſs of the Deity. Moſt men indeed place their affections too much upon it, and rate it at too high a value: but in the opinion even of wiſe men, it deſerves ſome eſtima⯑tion. The acquiſition of knowledge, in all its branches; the intercourſe of ſociety; the contemplation of the won⯑derful works of God, and all the beau⯑teous [177] ſcenes of nature; nay, even the low inclnations of animal life, when indulg⯑ed with ſobriety and moderation, fur⯑niſh various modes of pleaſure and en⯑joyment.

Let this world however go for little. In contemplating a future life, the en⯑joyments of this are loſt. It is in the contemplation of futurity, that the chriſtian views the goodneſs of God in the fulleſt light. When he ſees the Deity engaging himſelf by covenant to make our ſhort abode here a prepara⯑tion for our eternal happineſs hereafter —when he is aſſured, that this happi⯑neſs is not only eternal, but of the pureſt and moſt perfect kind—when he ſees God, as a father, opening all his ſtores of love and kindneſs, to bring back to himſelf a race of creatures fal⯑len from their original perfection, and [178] totally loſt through their own folly, perverſeneſs, and wickedneſs; then it is that the evils of life ſeem as atoms in the ſun-beam; the divine nature ap⯑pears overflowing with goodneſs to man⯑kind, and calls forth every exertion of our gratitude and love.

That the enjoyments of a future ſtate, in whatever thoſe enjoyments conſiſt, are the gift of God, is ſufficiently ob⯑vious: but with regard to the govern⯑ment of this world, there is often among men a ſort of infidelity, which aſcribes all events to their own prudence and in⯑duſtry. Things appear to run in a ſtated courſe; and the finger of God, which acts unſeen, is never ſuppoſed.

And, no doubt, our own induſtry and prudence have a great ſhare in pro⯑curing for us the bleſſings of life. God [179] hath annexed them as the reward of ſuch exertions. But can we ſuppoſe, that ſuch exertions will be of any ſervice to us, unleſs the providence of God throw opportunities in our way? All the means of worldly happineſs are ſurely no other than the means of his government. Moſes ſaw among the jews a kind of infidelity like this, when he forbad the people to ſay in their hearts, "My power, and the might of my hands hath gotten me this wealth:" whereas, he adds, they ought to remem⯑ber, "That it is the Lord who giveth power to get wealth."

Others again have objected to the goodneſs of God, his permiſſion of evil. A good God, ſay they, would have prevented it; and have placed his creatures in a ſituation beyond the diſ⯑treſſes of life.

[180]With regard to man, there ſeems to be no great difficulty in this matter. It is enough, ſurely, that God has put the means of comfort in our power. In the natural world, he hath given us reme⯑dies againſt hunger, cold, and diſeaſe; and in the moral world, againſt the miſ⯑chief of ſin. Even death itſelf, the laſt great evil, he hath ſhewn us how we may change into the moſt conſummate bleſ⯑ſing. A ſtate of trial ^* therefore, and a future world, ſeem eaſily to ſet things to rights on this head.

The miſery of the brute creation is indeed more unaccountable. But have we not the modeſty to ſuppoſe, that this difficulty may be owing to our igno⯑rance? And that on the ſtrength of what we know of the wiſdom of God, [181] we may venture to truſt him for thoſe parts which we cannot comprehend?

One truth, after all, is very apparent, that if we ſhould argue ourſelves into atheiſm by the untractableneſs of theſe ſubjects, we ſhould be ſo far from get⯑ting rid of our difficulties, that, if we reaſon juſtly, ten thouſand greater would ariſe, either from conſidering the world under no ruler, or under one of our own imagining.

There remains one farther conſidera⯑tion with regard to the love of God, and that is, the meaſure of it. We are told we ought to love him "with all our heart, with all our ſoul, and with all our ſtrength." Theſe are ſtrong ex⯑preſſions, and ſeem to imply a greater warmth of affection, than many people may perhaps find they can exert. The [182] affections of ſome are naturally cool, and little excited by any objects. The guilty perſon is he, whoſe affections are warm in every thing but religion.—The obvious meaning therefore of the ex⯑preſſion is, that whether our affections are cool or warm, we ſhould make God our chief good—that we ſhould ſet our affections more upon him, than upon any thing elſe—and that, for his ſake, and for the ſake of his laws, we ſhould be ready to reſign every thing we have, and even life itſelf. So that the words ſeem nearly of the ſame import with thoſe of the apoſtle, "Set your affec⯑tions on things above, and not on things on the earth."

LECTURE XI.

[185]OUR next duty to God, is, to wor⯑ſhip him, to give him thanks, to put our whole truſt in him, and to call upon him.

We have here the duty of prayer re⯑commended to us: but I ſhall have oc⯑caſion, in treating of the Lord's prayer, to ſpeak more fully hereafter on this ſubject. What I ſhall ſay at preſent, ſhall be confined to the obſervance of the ſabbath.

The jewiſh ſabbath was inſtituted to commemorate the creation of the world, and the redemption from Egypt. Theſe great events, which it held out, im⯑preſſed upon the people a ſtrong ſenſe of God's power; their dependence up⯑on him; and the propriety of worſhip.

[186]The great event held out by the chriſtian ſabbath, is the reſurrection of Chriſt. And for this reaſon the chriſ⯑tian hath changed his ſabbath from the ſeventh day of the week to the firſt.

There is another diſtinction between the jewiſh and the chriſtian ſabbath. The former was obſerved with that cere⯑monial ſtrictneſs which ran through the whole jewiſh law. The more liberal ſpirit of the goſpel hath freed the chriſ⯑tian ſabbath from theſe obſervances; and retains only its moral ends, public worſhip, and inſtruction. By theſe ends therefore our ſabbath is regulated; and nothing profanes it, but what oppoſes them.—On the head of public worſhip much might be ſaid.

It is a teſtimony of that reverence which is due to the ſupreme being. [187] The general ſenſe of mankind conſiders it as ſuch. The heathen nations al⯑ways approached their gods in public aſſemblies. The reſpect of a public reſort, on ſolemn occaſions, is paid even to earthly princes.—If it tends there⯑fore in any degree to impreſs an idea of reverence, it is certainly due on all oc⯑caſions, where the Almighty is con⯑cerned.

An attendance alſo on the public ſer⯑vice of the church is giving a public teſtimony of our faith. It is that teſt, which ſociety demands of all its mem⯑bers. By the laws of the community it is exacted; and it tends undoubt⯑edly to create a confidence among men.

Theſe public aſſemblies are alſo a kind of connecting bond among chriſ⯑tians. Every part of the ſervice points [188] out that love, and union, which ſhould ſubſiſt among them. It places them in the light of children of one common parent; joining, with one conſent, in begging bleſſings, which concern them all.

Public worſhip alſo is particularly accommodated to deprecate national ca⯑lamities, and implore national bleſſings; as cloſet devotion is more the vehicle of our private requeſts. It is common⯑ly alſo eſteemed the moſt animated ſpe⯑cies of devotion, as the zeal of one may be ſuppoſed to excite the zeal of ano⯑ther.—In the generality indeed of our cold, unanimated aſſemblies, little of this is ſeen: but if we were pre⯑ſent at an aſſembly, where every mem⯑ber was really in earneſt, we muſt be much unacquainted with the ſpirit of [189] devotion, if we did not, in ſome de⯑gree, catch the flame.

We muſt alſo particularly remember, that great ſtreſs is laid upon this ſpecies of devotion in ſcripture; where we read frequently of aſſemblies meeting to praiſe God on the firſt day of the week. —Nor is it perhaps unreaſonable to ſup⯑poſe, that public devotion draws God's favour, in a peculiar manner, upon our prayers. "Where two or three are ga⯑thered together," ſays Chriſt, "there am I in the midſt of them."

Secondly, the ſabbath is the great mean of inſtruction. If people of edu⯑cation in this inlightened age, think in⯑ſtruction of leſs conſequence to them, yet at leaſt they muſt think it of great uſe to the vulgar. It is a common opi⯑nion, and the better for being ſo, that [190] were it not for the ſabbath, religion it⯑ſelf would be loſt. And if people of ſuperior ſtations do not give the obſerv⯑ance of it their ſanction, it will not long have credit among the vulgar.

Since therefore the obſervance of the ſabbath is founded upon ſo many wiſe and juſt reaſons, what have they to an⯑ſwer for, who not only neglect this in⯑ſtitution themſelves, but bring it by their example into contempt with o⯑thers? I ſpeak not to thoſe who make it a day of common diverſion; who, laying aſide all decency, and breaking through all civil and religious regula⯑tions, ſpend it in the moſt licentious a⯑muſements: ſuch people are paſt all re⯑proof: but I ſpeak to thoſe, who in other things profeſs themſelves to be ſerious people; and, one might hope, would act [191] right, when they were convinced what was ſo.

But our prayers, whether in public, or in private, are only an idle parade, unleſs we put our truſt in God.

By putting our truſt in God, is meant depending upon him, as our happineſs, and our refuge.

Human nature is always endeavour⯑ing either to remove pain; or, if eaſe be obtained, to acquire happineſs. And thoſe things are certainly the moſt eli⯑gible, which in theſe reſpects are the moſt effectual. The world, it is true, makes us flattering promiſes: but who can ſay that it will keep them? We con⯑ſiſt of two parts, a body, and a ſoul. Both of theſe want the means of hap⯑pineſs, as well as the removal of evil. [192] But the world cannot even afford them to the body. Its means of happineſs, to thoſe who depend upon them as ſuch, are, in a thouſand inſtances, unſatisfy⯑ing. Even, at beſt, they will fail us in in the end. While pain, diſeaſes, and death, ſhew us, that the world can af⯑ford no refuge againſt bodily diſtreſs. And if it cannot afford the means of happineſs, and of ſecurity, to the body, how much leſs can we ſuppoſe it able to afford them to the ſoul?

Nothing then, we ſee, in this world, is a ſufficient foundation for truſt: nor indeed can any thing be, but almighty God, who affords us the only means of happineſs, and is our only real refuge in diſtreſs. On him, the more we truſt, the greater we ſhall feel our ſecurity; and that man who has, on juſt religious motives, confirmed in himſelf this truſt, [193] wants nothing elſe to ſecure his happi⯑neſs. The world may wear what aſpect it will: it is not on it that he depends. As far as prudence goes, he endeavours to avoid the evils of life: but when they fall to his ſhare (as ſooner or later we muſt all ſhare them) he reſigns himſelf into the hands of that God who made him, and who knows beſt how to diſpoſe of him. On him he thorough⯑ly depends, and with him he has a conſtant intercourſe by prayer; truſt⯑ing, that whatever happens is agreeable to that juſt government, which God has eſtabliſhed; and that, of conſequence, it muſt be beſt.

We are injoined next "to honour God's holy name."

The name of God is accompanied with ſuch ideas of greatneſs and reve⯑rence, [194] that it ſhould never paſs our lips without ſuggeſting thoſe ideas. Indeed it ſhould never be mentioned, but with a kind of awful heſitation, and on the moſt ſolemn occaſions; either in ſerious diſcourſe, or, when we invoke God in prayer, or when we ſwear by his name.

In this laſt light we are here particu⯑larly injoined to honour the name of God. A ſolemn oath is an appeal to God himſelf; ^* and is intitled to our utmoſt reſpect, were it only in a political light; as in all human concerns it is the ſtrongeſt teſt of veracity; and has been approved as ſuch by the wiſdom of all nations.

[195]Some religioniſts have diſapproved the uſe of oaths, under the idea of pro⯑phaneneſs. The language of the ſacred writers conveys a different idea. One of them ſays, "An oath for confirma⯑tion is an end of all ſtrife:" another, "I take God for record upon my ſoul:" and a third, "God is my witneſs."

To the uſe of oaths others have ob⯑jected, that they are nugatory. The good man will ſpeak the truth without an oath; and the bad man, cannot be held by one. And this would be true, if mankind were divided into good and bad: but as they are generally of a mixed character, we may well ſuppoſe, that many would venture a ſimple falſ⯑hood; who would yet be ſtartled at the idea of perjury.^*

[196]As an oath therefore taken in a ſo⯑lemn manner, and on a proper occaſion, may be conſidered as one of the higheſt acts of religion; ſo perjury, or falſe ſwearing, is certainly one of the higheſt acts of impiety; and the greateſt diſ⯑honour we can poſſibly ſhew to the name of God. It is, in effect, either denying our belief in a God, or his power to pu⯑niſh. Other crimes wiſh to eſcape the notice of heaven: this is daring the Al⯑mighty to his face.

After perjury, the name of God is moſt diſhonoured by the horrid practice of curſing. Its effects in ſociety it is true, are not ſo miſchievous as thoſe of perjury; nor is it ſo deliberate an act; [197] but yet it conveys a ſtill more horrid idea. Indeed if there be one wicked practice more peculiarly diabolical, than another; it is this: for no employment can be conceived more ſuitable to infernal ſpirits, than that of ſpending their rage and impotence in curſes, and execrati⯑ons. If this ſhocking vice were not ſo dreadfully familiar to our ears, it could not fail to ſtrike us with the utmoſt hor⯑ror.

We next conſider common ſwearing; a ſin ſo univerſally practiſed, that one would imagine ſome great advantage, in the way either of pleaſure or profit, attended it. The wages of iniquity af⯑ford ſome temptation: but to commit ſin without any wages, is a ſtrange ſpe⯑cies of infatuation—May we then aſk the common ſwearer, what the advan⯑tages are, which ariſe from this prac⯑tice?

[198]It will be difficult to point out one. —Perhaps it may be ſaid, that it adds ſtrength to an affirmation. But if a man commonly ſtrengthen his affirmations in this way, we may venture to aſſert, that the practice will tend rather to leſſen, than confirm, his credit. It ſhews plain⯑ly what he himſelf thinks of his own ve⯑racity. We never prop a building, till it becomes ruinous.

Some forward youth may think, that an oath adds an air and ſpirit to his diſ⯑courſe; that it is manly and important; and gives him conſequence. We may whiſper one ſecret in his ear, which he may be aſſured is a truth—Theſe airs of manlineſs give him conſequence with thoſe only, whoſe commendation is diſ⯑grace: others he only convinces, at how early an age he wiſhes to be thought profligate.

[199]Perhaps he may imagine, that an oath gives force, and terror to his threat⯑nings.— In this he may be right; and the more horribly wicked he grows, the greater object of terror he may make himſelf. On this plan, the devil af⯑fords him a complete pattern for imita⯑tion.

Paltry as theſe apologies are, I ſhould ſuppoſe, the practice of common ſwear⯑ing has little more to ſay for itſelf.— Thoſe however, who can argue in fa⯑vour of this ſin, I ſhould fear, there is little chance to reclaim.—But it is pro⯑bable, that the greater part of ſuch as are addicted to it, act rather from habit, than principle. To deter ſuch perſons from indulging ſo pernicious a habit, and to ſhew them, that it is worth their while to be at ſome pains to conquer it, [200] let us now ſee what arguments may be produced on the other ſide.

In the firſt place, common ſwearing leads to perjury. He who is addicted to ſwear on every trifling occaſion, cannot but often, I had almoſt ſaid, unavoidably, give the ſanction of an oath to an un⯑truth. And though I ſhould hope ſuch perjury is not a ſin of ſo heinous a na⯑ture, as what, in judicial matters, is called wilful, and corrupt; yet it is certainly ſtained with a very great de⯑gree of guilt.

But ſecondly, common ſwearing is a large ſtride towards wilful and corrupt perjury; in as much as it makes a ſolemn oath to be received with leſs reverence. If nobody dared to take an oath, but on proper occaſions, an oath would be re⯑ceived [201] with reſpect: but when we are accuſtomed to hear ſwearing the common language of our ſtreets, it is no wonder, that people make light of oaths on every occaſion; and that judicial, commerci⯑al, qualifying, and official oaths, are all treated with ſo much indifference.

Thirdly, common ſwearing may be conſidered as an act of great irreverence to God; and as ſuch, implying alſo a great indifference to religion. If it would diſgrace a chief magiſtrate to ſuf⯑fer appeals on every trifling, or ludi⯑crous occaſion; we may at leaſt think it as diſreſpectful to the Almighty.—If we loſe our reverence for God, it is im⯑poſſible we can retain it for his laws. You ſcarce remember a common ſwear⯑er, who was in other reſpects an exact chriſtian.

[202]But above all, we ſhould be deterred from common ſwearing by the poſitive command of our Saviour, which is founded unqueſtionably upon the wick⯑edneſs of the practice: "You have heard," ſaith Chriſt, "that it hath been ſaid by them of old time, thou ſhalt not forſwear thyſelf: but I ſay unto you, ſwear not at all; neither by heaven, for it is God's throne, neither by the earth for it is his footſtool: but let your communication" (that is, your ordinary converſation) "be yea, yea, nay, nay; for whatſoever is more than theſe cometh of evil."—St James alſo, with great emphaſis preſſing his maſter's words, ſays, "Above all things, my brethren, ſwear not; neither by heaven, neither by the earth, neither by any other oath: but let your yea be yea; and your nay, nay, leſt you fall into condemnation.

[203]I ſhall juſt add, before I conclude this ſubject, that two things are to be avoided, which are very nearly allied to ſwearing.

The firſt is, the uſe of light exclama⯑tions, and invocations upon God, on every trivial occaſion. We cannot have much reverence for God himſelf, when we treat his name in ſo familiar a man⯑ner; and may aſſure ourſelves, that we are indulging a practice, which muſt weaken impreſſions, that ought to be preſerved as ſtrong as poſſible.

Secondly, ſuch light expreſſions, and wanton phraſes, as ſound like ſwearing are to be avoided; and are often therefore indulged by ſilly peo⯑ple, for the ſake of the ſound; who think (if they think at all) that they add to their diſcourſe the ſpirit of ſwear⯑ing [204] without the guilt of it. Such peo⯑ple had better lay aſide, together with ſwearing, every appearance of it. Theſe appearances may both offend, and miſ⯑lead others; and with regard to them⯑ſelves, may end in realities. At leaſt, they ſhew an inclination to ſwearing: and an inclination to vice, indulged, is really vice.

LECTURE XII.

[207]AS we are injoined to honour God's holy name, ſo are we injoined alſo "to honour his holy word."

By God's holy word we mean both the old teſtament and the new. The con⯑nection between them is ſo cloſe, that no man can pay a regard to the one, without paying it alſo to the other. The new teſtament is not only of the ſame texture with the old; but the very ſame web, as it were, only more unfolded.

The books of the old teſtament open with the earlieſt accounts of time, ear⯑lier than any human records reach; and yet, in many inſtances, they are ſtrength⯑ened by human records. The heathen mythology is often grounded upon rem⯑nants of the ſacred ſtory; and many of [208] the bible-events are recorded, however imperfectly, in prophane hiſtory. The very face of nature bears witneſs to the deluge.

In the hiſtory of the patriarchs is ex⯑hibited a moſt beautiful picture of the ſimplicity of ancient manners; and of genuine nature, unadorned indeed by ſcience, but impreſſed ſtrongly with a ſenſe of religion. This gives an air of greatneſs and dignity, to all the ſenti⯑ments and actions of theſe exalted cha⯑racters.

The patriarchal hiſtory is followed by the jewiſh. Here we have the prin⯑cipal events of that peculiar nation; which lived under a theocracy, and was ſet apart to preſerve, and propagate ^* the [209] knowledge of the true God through thoſe ages of ignorance, antecedent to Chriſt. Here too we find thoſe types, and repreſentations, which the apoſtle to the Hebrews calls the ſhadows of good things to come.

To thoſe books, which contain the legiſlation, and hiſtory of the Jews, ſuc⯑ceed the prophetic writings. As the time of the promiſe drew ſtill nearer, the notices of its approach became ſtronger. The kingdom of the Meſ⯑ſiah, which was but obſcurely, ſha⯑dowed by the ceremonies of the Jewiſh law, was marked in ſtronger lines by the prophets, and proclaimed in more intelligible language. The of⯑fice of the Meſſiah, his miniſtry, his life, his actions, his death, and his re⯑ſurrection, are all very diſtinctly held out. It is true, the Jews, explaining [210] the warm figures of the prophetic lan⯑guage too literally, and applying to a temporal dominion thoſe expreſſions, which were intended only as deſcriptive of a ſpiritual, were offended at the meanneſs of Chriſt's appearance on earth; and would not own him for that Meſ⯑ſiah, whom their prophets had foretold; though theſe very prophets, when they uſed a leſs figurative language, had de⯑ſcribed him, as he really was, a man of ſorrows, and acquainted with grief.

To theſe books are added ſeveral others, poetical and moral, which ad⯑miniſter much inſtruction, and matter of meditation to devout minds.

The new teſtament contains firſt the ſimple hiſtory of Chriſt, as recorded in the four goſpels. In this hiſtory alſo are delivered thoſe excellent inſtructions, [211] which our Saviour occaſionally gave his diſciples; the precepts and the example blended together.

To the goſpels ſucceeds an account of the lives and actions of ſome of the principal apoſtles; together with the early ſtate of the chriſtian church.

The epiſtles of ſeveral of the Apoſtles, particularly of St. Paul, to ſome of the new eſtabliſhed churches, make another part. Our ſaviour had promiſed to en⯑dow his diſciples with power from on high to complete the great work of publiſhing the goſpel: and in the epiſtles that work is completed. The truths and doctrines of the chriſtian religion are here ſtill more unfolded, and infor⯑ced: as the great ſcheme of our re⯑demption, was now finiſhed by the death of Chriſt.

[212]The ſacred volume is concluded with the revelations of St. John; which are ſuppoſed to contain a prophetic deſcrip⯑tion of the future ſtate of the church. Some of theſe prophecies, it is thought on very good grounds, are already fulfil⯑led; and others, which now, as ſublime deſcriptions only, amuſe the imaginati⯑on, will probably, in the future ages of the church, be the objects of the under⯑ſtanding alſo.

Such is the word of God, which we are injoined to honour. And this ho⯑nour, we may be aſſured, is beſt ſhewn by applying theſe holy writings to the uſes for which God intended them. We ſhould take the bible into our hands, as we ſhould approach a divine inſtructor, with a habit of mind—not to cavil—not to create objections—not to quote wantonly—not to apply to ludi⯑crous [213] purpoſes (all which is certainly diſhonouring it) but with a pious incli⯑nation to improve our hearts, by learning from it the duties of chriſtianity—by learning from it, how to live, and how to die.

This divine book furniſhes a great va⯑riety of matter for our meditation. It is profitable, we are told, for doctrine, for reproof, for correction and inſtruction. When we find in it moral rules laid down for our conduct, we ſhould com⯑pare our actions with thoſe rules: and where motives are aſſigned, we ſhould try our hearts by theſe too, and exa⯑mine, whether they are right in the ſight of God. When it inſtructs us to have our converſation in heaven, and to ſet our affections on things above, we ought to examine ourſelves, whether heaven, or the world is more the object [214] of our deſires. When the mercies of the goſpel are recited, they ſhould raiſe our joy, our love, and thankfulneſs: and when we read the denunciations of God's wrath againſt ſin, our minds ſhould re⯑ceive with reverence the awful impreſſi⯑on. When the good actions of holy men are recorded, we ſhould conſider them as recorded for our example; and when their frailties are recited, theſe ſhould teach us diffidence, and humili⯑ty. In ſhort, our fears, our hopes, our faith, our joy, our love, and gratitude have all ſufficient objects to engage them. It ſhould be our great endeavour to transfuſe the ſpirit of this holy book into our lives; and he who can do this the beſt, may be aſſured, that he ho⯑nours it the moſt.

The laſt part of our duty to God is, [215] "to ſerve him truly all the days of our life."

"To ſerve God truly all the days of our life" implies two things: firſt, the mode of this ſervice; and ſecondly, the term of it.

Firſt, we muſt ſerve God truly. We muſt not reſt ſatisfied with the out⯑ward action: but muſt take care that every action be founded on a proper motive. It is the motive alone that makes an action acceptable to God. The hypocrite "may faſt twice in the week, and give alms of all that he poſ⯑ſeſſes:" nay he may faſt the whole week, if he be able; and give all he has in alms; but if his faſts, and his alms are intended as matter of oſtentation only, neither the one, nor the other, is that true ſervice which God requires. God [216] requires the heart: He requires that an earneſt deſire of acting agreeably to his will, ſhould be the general ſpring of our actions: and this will give even an indifferent action a value in his ſight.

As we are injoined to ſerve God truly, ſo are we injoined to ſerve him "all the days of our life." As far as human frailties will permit, we ſhould perſe⯑vere in a conſtant tenor of obedience. That lax behaviour, which inſtead of making a ſteady progreſs, is continual⯑ly relapſing into former errors, and run⯑ning the ſame round of ſinning, and re⯑penting, is rather the life of an irreſo⯑lute ſinner, than of a pious chriſtian. Human errors, and frailties, we know, God will not treat with too ſevere an eye: but he who, in the general tenor of his life, does not keep advancing to⯑wards chriſtian perfection; but ſuffers [217] himſelf, at intervals, entirely to loſe ſight of his calling, cannot be really ſerious in his profeſſion: he is at a great diſ⯑tance from ſerving God truly all the days of his life; and has no ſcriptural ground to hope much from the mercy of God.

That man, whether placed in high eſtate, or low, has reached the ſummit of human happineſs, who is truly ſeri⯑ous in the ſervice of his great maſter. The things of this world may engage, but cannot engroſs, his attention: its ſorrows, and its joys may affect, but cannot diſconcert, him. No man, he knows, can faithfully ſerve two maſ⯑ters. He hath hired himſelf to one— that great maſter, whoſe commands he reveres, whoſe favour he ſeeks, whoſe diſpleaſure alone is the real object of his fears; and whoſe rewards alone are the [218] real objects of his hope. Every thing elſe is, trivial in his ſight. The world may ſooth; or it may threaten him: he perſeveres ſteadily in the ſervice of his God; and in that perſeverance feels his happineſs every day the more eſta⯑bliſhed.

LECTURE XIII.

[221]HAVING conſidered thoſe duties, which we owe immediately to God, we next conſider thoſe, which have a more immediate connection with man. Theſe, as diſpoſed in the ſum⯑mary before us, may be divided into general, and particular duties—ſuch as concern to mankind in general; and ſuch as ariſe from particular relations.

Let us conſider, firſt, ſuch as are ge⯑neral. "We muſt love our neighbour as ourſelves"—and, "Do to others, as we would have them do to us." Theſe two rules may not improperly be called an appendix to the law. Upon every emergence a law in point may not be ready: it may not indeed exiſt. In many caſes we muſt be more at liberty. What law, for inſtance, can direct all [222] thoſe little nameleſs offices of friendly intercourſe between man and man, which preſerve the peace of ſociety; and form the greateſt part of its hap⯑pineſs? What law again can direct our gratitude? or can enter into all thoſe minute diſtinctions, which make the circumſtances of one man different from thoſe of another? We are here therefore injoined to make appeals to our own feelings in many caſes not taken notice of by law.—The former of theſe great rules regards our affections; the latter, our actions.

Firſt, "we muſt love our neighbour as ourſelves." The meaning of the word neighbour, our Saviour ſettled in the parable of the good Samaritan; from which it appears, that all mankind are to be eſteemed our neighbours.

[223]The mode alſo of this affection is defined. "We muſt love our neigh⯑bour, as ourſelves." How then do we love ourſelves? Self-love, we know, is a ſteady principle, prompting us, at all times, to avoid pain, and purſue hap⯑pineſs. For though men are often the voluntary authors of their own mi⯑ſery; yet they act under a blind belief, that the preſent pleaſure, in a vicious action, may overbalance the pernicious conſequences. Their own happineſs is always intended.—If therefore the love we owe our neighbour, muſt be meaſur⯑ed by the love we bear ourſelves, it muſt be a ſteady principle prompting us at all times to relieve his diſtreſſes, and promote his happineſs.

But it may be objected, that love is involuntary—that we like, and diſlike from humour, prejudice, and caprice: [224] how then is an affection, ſo little in our power, preſcribed as a duty?

This is eaſily anſwered. A general, abſtracted benevolence, which is ready to do good to all, and which delights in the good of all, may exiſt without any of that particular attachment to the in⯑dividual, which is uſually called love: and this is the temper, which chriſtianity would encourage—an affection to the whole ſpecies; and particularly a com⯑paſſion to the diſtreſſed part of it. The good Samaritan would have relieved any man in the ſame circumſtances, in which he found the diſtreſſed traveller. To that man he had no particular attach⯑ment. He had never before ſeen him.

Here a queſtion may ariſe about pri⯑vate friendſhip, and love to our coun⯑try; [225] on both which points the ſcripture is ſilent.

It may be ſo: it was our Saviour's deſign to enlarge our affections, rather than contract them. He, who was ſo well acquainted with human nature, certainly knew, that if univerſal bene⯑volence were attained, all the inferior degrees of affection to relations, friends, and country, would follow of courſe.

Beſides, religion ſeems to have no more buſineſs to recommed friendſhip, or patriotiſm, than it has to recommend marriage, or celibacy; a country life, or a town-life. They are modes of af⯑fection, which circumſtances may make ſuitable to one man, and unſuitable to another; and therefore cannot be of ge⯑neral moral obligation. One may con⯑ceive a man to change his abode ſo fre⯑quently, [226] and ſo remotely, as to have neither country, nor friend.

The regulation of our affections leads naturally to the regulation of our acti⯑ons. "We muſt do to others, as we would have them do to us."

Are we then to be the dupes of any extravagant claim, that may be made upon us?

By no means. This is a perverſion of the rule. We are required only to do to others, what we could reaſonably expect they ſhould do to us. Hence all unreaſonable claims are excluded. With this reſtriction the rule before us is truly admirable; and ſhould be ever in our minds, when we have intercourſe with others. Scarce any caſe can occur, in which it will not direct us right. [227] Our practice is not here confounded by nice diſtinctions, or ſubtil points of morality: we are referred at once to our own breaſts. Our own feelings are the criterion. We have only to aſk our⯑ſelves, whether the action in diſpute be ſuch, as we ſhould think might reaſon⯑ably be done to ourſelves? An anſwer to this queſtion will ſolve the moſt dif⯑ficult caſe between us, and our neigh⯑bour. And indeed if we attend ſuffici⯑ently to this rule, we ſhall ſcarce need any other.

From the exertion of univerſal bene⯑volence, inculcated in theſe two rules; every happineſs muſt ariſe, of which men are capable, either as individuals, or as members of ſociety. The firſt, which regulates our affections, leads di⯑rectly to our own happineſs. If we love others, as we love ourſelves, we muſt of [228] courſe diveſt our minds of all thoſe vile affections, which are the great ſources of our miſery: and when envy, malice, revenge, and other bad inclinations are rooted out, the kind and friendly affec⯑tions will of courſe take place: at leaſt, the ground is well prepared for their re⯑ception.

As the obſervance of the firſt rule leads directly to our own happineſs; the obſervance of the ſecond leads directly to the happineſs of others. The miſ⯑chiefs, which diſtreſs ſociety, ariſe chiefly from violence and fraud. Both theſe will be driven out, through the prevalence of this principle; for who would himſelf wiſh to be the object of either?

[229]The ſigns which accompany this di⯑vine temper, are a general obliging be⯑haviour in our ordinary converſation; and a gentleneſs of manners to all men, whether they are ſuperiors, equals, or inferiors: a generous candour to⯑wards their faults; and a readineſs to bear with their little infirmities, pre⯑judices, and humours. All this will be the natural overflowing of a bene⯑volent heart. And though we do not ſay, that whoever poſſeſſes an obliging civility of manners, muſt, of courſe, alſo have a benevolent heart; (for an obliging behaviour is ſometimes natu⯑ral, and ſometimes aſſumed) yet it may not be improper for thoſe, who wiſh to attain this great principle, to begin with a gentleneſs of behaviour; as an excellent mean to ſoften the heart, and render it ſuſceptible of benign impreſ⯑ſions. Such a behaviour may, per⯑haps, [230] be more aſſiſtant to us, in at⯑taining the principle itſelf, than at ſight appears.