THE diſpenſations of God with regard to this world, are repreſented in ſcripture under various ſimilitudes; not ſo much with a view to explain them, as to give us ſuch conceptions of them only, as are neceſſary.—Among theſe ſeveral images, that of a cup is one of the moſt frequent. It occurs in many of the Divine Writers—in David particularly. He ſpeaks of the cup of ſalvation— of the Lord's being the portion of his cup—of his cup running over—and here, in this beautiful paſ⯑ſage, he carries the illuſtration farther. In the hand of the Lord there is a cup; and the wine is red; it is full-mixed, and he poureth out of the ſame. As for the dregs thereof, the ungodly of the earth ſhall drink them, and ſuck them out.

[6]From theſe words I ſhall Firſt examine the Contents of the Lord's cup: and ſhall Secondly and Thirdly ſhew you how the Ungodly, and how the Godly drink of it.

Firſt, with regard to the Contents of the Lord's cup, we are told, the wine is red, but it is full-mixed;—that is, however fair the appearances of things may be, however ſplendid any ſtate of happineſs, or any ſituation of life may appear, it is full-mixed—there is always added to it a certain portion of evil. By evil, I mean only the uſual misfortunes and afflictions of human life. Theſe are what temper the cup of the Lord: and in this mixed ſtate it is poured out to the inhabitants of the earth.

All nature, as well as man, partakes of this mix⯑ture.—We ſee ſtorms purifying the air; but at the ſame time deſtroying the labours of men— the ſeaſons ſometimes kind; but as often inclement —rains fertilizing the earth; but alſo deluging it—the ground bearing fruits and grain; but weeds alſo and noxious herbs—the ocean expanding its broad boſom for the benefit of commerce; but the ſcene alſo of devouring tempeſts, and overflowing tides.

[7]If we examine animal life, we ſhall find here alſo, as far as it regards man, the ſame mixture of good and evil. Some animals are uſeful for food; others for labour; and others for conveni⯑ence; but a greater number we find are miſchiev⯑ous. The larger beaſts of prey devour by their ſtrength; the inferior by their craft; and the blighting infect by its multitude.

If from the irrational part of nature we take a view of man, and his labours, we ſhall find the ſame mixture of good and evil. In himſelf, what a compound is he of virtue and vice? Religion, and hypocriſy; honeſty, and deceit; charity, and ma⯑lice; compaſſion, and unfeelingneſs; with many other contrarieties, are continually taking their turns in his mind. Good ſuggeſtions often im⯑preſs him: but temptations are ſtrong; and his practice wayward.

Man being thus compounded of good and evil, all his labours partake of the mixture. His food is turned to intemperance; his dreſs to vanity; his amuſements to diffipation. Let him form what ſchemes, what plans, what ſyſtems he will; let him employ all his little prudence and foreſight in bringing them to perfection, ſtill he will find, mixed with them in ſome ſhape or other, uncer⯑tainty, diſappointment, and miſcarriage.

[8]Thus in the various circumſtances of his life, good and bad purſue each other, like the lights and ſhadows of a ſtormy day. The ſun may break out at intervals; yet it never happens, but that either the morning, the noon, or at leaſt the evening of his day is obſcured. Light and darkneſs are not more connected than good and evil. David al⯑luding to theſe ſudden changes, tells us, that heavi⯑neſs may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.

As this is the caſe therefore—as the Lord's cup is thus mixed with bitter as well as ſweet ingredi⯑ents; and as we all muſt drink it, let us examine in what way we may drink it beſt.—And firſt let us ſee, how the Ungodly man drinks it; which was the Second point I propoſed to conſider.

The text ſays, he drinks the dregs. Now the dregs of any liquor are the pernicious parts. It is fairly implied therefore, that the Ungodly man turns both the good and evil of life to his own deſtruction.

Let us firſt ſee him in proſperous circumſtances, with the cup of plenty in his hand. Here he ap⯑pears in a very unfavourable light. Proſperity hardens him. It ſupplies nouriſhment to all his bad paſſions. His unfeeling heart is never touched [9]by the wants of others. All is centered in him⯑ſelf.—If he has been, by the favour of Providence, ſucceſsful in any trade or profeſſion, it is then his language—at leaſt his ſentiment—that he has made himſelf happy—let others take the ſame means if they will.—If they have been leſs prudent, or leſs induſtrious than he has been, let them ſuffer for their folly. In ſhort, from looking up to no cauſe above him; but thinking himſelf the ſource of all his enjoyments, he begins to fancy himſelf ſuperior to others, and of courſe holds others in contempt. He becomes arrogant, proud, and aſ⯑ſuming; and his features are commonly marked with what the Pſalmiſt ſo expreſſively calls the ſcornful reproof of the wealthy.

In his gratifications, perhaps the Ungodly man takes the road of pleaſure. Then all is riot and exceſs: religion, conſcience, decency, are no limits to him.—Ruin often ſucceeds.

But perhaps he drinks the cup of proſperity more cautiouſly. He has the foreſight to provide againſt the ruin which deſtroys the thoughtleſs pro⯑fligate, and to act under the conduct of worldly wiſdom. Then we ſee him enjoying his proſpe⯑rity in a different way. Inſtead of ſquandering his wealth, he hoards it. Every increaſe of his for⯑tune increaſes alſo his deſires. The ſame hardneſs [10]of heart, which the other ſhewed in providing for his pleaſures, he ſhews in raiſing an eſtate. Con⯑ſcience and religion are equally the ſcorn of both.

The proſperity of the Ungodly man takes com⯑monly one or the other of theſe courſes; the bleſſings of the Lord's cup he turns to his own deſtruction. As he is ill qualified to receive good from the Lord, let us now ſee whether he is better qualified to receive evil; for, as we obſerv⯑ed, the cup of the Lord is full-mixed. Evil in ſome ſhape, will ſooner or later certainly overtake him. When the weight of misfortune, or the diſ⯑treſs of ſickneſs, or the infirmities of age come up⯑on him, then the dregs of the Lord's cup become a bitter potion to him. Like a froward child he knows not what he wants. Every thing diſtreſſes, nothing can pleaſe him. He never feels the joys of religion—the heartfelt ſatisfaction of a good con⯑ſcience, and the tranquility of a peaceful mind, which alone can ſoothe the anxiety of misfortune, or eaſe the bed of ſickneſs. Now he ſuffers that keen diſtreſs, which he never pitied in others—that want of aſſiſtance himſelf, which he never adminiſ⯑tered to them.

Thus wretched in himſelf, you ſee him in a ſtill more diſagreeable light when he mixes with others. [11]See him when you will, he is always either finding fault, or making complaint. But follow him home, and you will there find his ill-humours breaking out with double force. Miſerable are all, who are thus unhappily connected with him. In⯑ſtead of the mild, ſweet ſmile of ſuffering piety, the ſoftened look of tenderneſs, with which every offer to do him ſervice ſhould be received; he ſpurns the hand that ſoothes him. The kindeſt offers to ſerve him, are received like injuries. The tenderneſs of relations, the conſolation of friends, inſtead of aſſwaging his ill-humours, ſerve only to excite them. Peeviſh and fretful, he diſtributes his own ſufferings in large proportions upon his ſer⯑vants, dependants, and nearer connections.—And yet tho you would imagine he was wholly out of love with life, and wiſhed for nothing more, than to leave it with diſguſt, you are miſtaken. He ſeems fonder of it, at leaſt more loth to leave it, than the man who enjoys it moſt. His attachment to the expiring moments of life, is moſt happily expreſſed in the text: he not only drinks the dregs of the cup; but he keeps them to his mouth as long as he can—he ſucks them out.—The moſt horrible ſight which the world can furniſh, is that of a wicked wretch on the edge of eternity; when all hope of [12]life is over, and he has juſt ſenſibility enough to ſee before him the gulf of deſpair. Let us turn aſide from a ſpectacle, which makes the blood run cold; and ſee, as we propoſed Thirdly, how the Godly man drinks of the Lord's cup.

In the firſt place, the Godly man expects to find a portion of evil in his cup. He ſees the pro⯑priety of it, and fully acknowledges the great uſefulneſs of this mixture of good and evil. If the potion were perfectly palatable, he fears he might drink to exceſs. If all things went ſmooth and eaſy with him—if in the current of life, no rubs, no ſtoppages, no difficulties, ever occurred, what would be the conſequence? He might be ſecure in the midſt of danger. Tho mortal, he might never think of mortality. The difficulties of life —the frequent checks he meets with, are what put him continually on his guard. Diſappointment corrects his paſſions; and ſhews him that he is not to imagine he muſt have things here as he pleaſes; but muſt expect his portion of evil. He takes the world therefore for what it is, and does not fix his happineſs upon it.

All this in the ſincerity of his heart, he acknow⯑ledges, and approves; and thus far even his reaſon [13]carries him. But when he opens the word of God, he finds the various diſpenſations of heaven placed in a ſtill juſter light. He finds this world repre⯑ſented in the goſpel as a ſtate of trial, prepara⯑tory to future happineſs; and the good and evil of life, as the means of this trial; contributing equally to exerciſe, and prove his religion.

Many are the virtues which proſperity gives him room to exerciſe; and which he could not exer⯑ciſe amidſt the evils of life; and many are the vir⯑tues, which are the attendants of affliction; and are little known in the proſperous hour. He drinks the cup of the Lord, therefore, as the Lord intends.

When it pleaſes heaven to bleſs him; when his deſigns ſucceed; and his hopes dilate in ſome view of happineſs before him, "Now is the time," (he ſuggeſts to himſelf) ‘when I muſt guard my heart with double care. Now is the time, when inſo⯑lence, and wantonneſs, and pride, the attendants of a proſperous hour, are moſt liable to corrupt me. Let me be careful to bar all entrance againſt them. Let proſperity ſoften my heart, inſtead of hardening it. Let me be humble, and mild, and condeſcending, and obliging to all. In the midſt of my own enjoyments, let my heart ex⯑pand. [14]Let me feel the miſery of others; and turn my plenty, to the relief of their neceſſity.’

Again, when it pleaſes heaven to mix ſome bitter ingredient in his cup, ſtill he has the ſame ſenſe of acting under the will of God. ‘Now, he cries, is the time, when I am to exerciſe patience and reſignation. Now my religion is put to the teſt. Shall I receive good at the hand of the Lord, and not receive evil?—Gracious God! grant that I may improve my heart under this trial of my faith; and make my ſufferings through Jeſus Chriſt, the means of purifying my affecti⯑ons. Let me for his ſake bear a trifling part of what he bore for me; and let me keep that great pattern of ſuffering reſignation always be⯑fore my eyes.’

Thus the Godly man drinks of the Lord's cup, and his draught whether ſweet, or bitter, is whole⯑ſome to him. This bleſſed reſignation of his own will in all inſtances to the will of God, regulates his affections—corrects his thoughts—and draws him back to the ſober recollection of his ſtation here; by checking each idea as it ariſes, of worldly happineſs. And yet, tho this pious re⯑ſignation leſſens the world in his eye, it is ſo far from interfering with his worldly happineſs, that [15]it ſheds the ſunſhine of chearfulneſs continually in his breaſt.—But moſt of all when the world ſinks under him, he feels its bleſſed effects. While life is extinguiſhing, it is a cordial to pain; and gives tranquility to death.

Let us then after the Godly man's example, take the Lord's cup with all its ingredients full-mixed, in⯑to our hands. Let us always remember whoſe cup it is, and who pours it out. It is the Lord himſelf Whatever therefore the draught is, let us conſider it as mixed and tempered by the great phyſician of our ſouls. It may be unpalatable—but it is our own fault, if it be not beneficial.