LECTURE XIV.

[3]FROM the two grand principles of "loving our neighbour as our⯑ſelves; and of doing to others, as we would have them do to us," which re⯑gulate our ſocial intercourſe in general, we proceed to thoſe more confined du⯑ties, which ariſe from particular relati⯑ons, connections, and ſtations in life.

Among theſe, we are firſt taught, as indeed the order of nature directs, to conſider the great duty of children to parents.

The two points to be inſiſted on, are reſpect and obedience. Both theſe ſhould naturally ſpring from love; to which parents have the higheſt claim. And indeed parents, in general, behave to their children, in a manner both to deſerve and to obtain their love.

[4]But if the kindneſs of the parent be not ſuch as to work upon the affections of the child, yet ſtill the parent has a title to reſpect and obedience, on the principle of duty; a principle, which the voice of nature dictates; which reaſon inculcates; which human laws, and human cuſtoms all join to inforce; and which the word of God ſtrictly commands.

The child will ſhew reſpect to his pa⯑rent, by treating him, at all times with deference. He will conſult his parent's inclination; and ſhew a readineſs in a thouſand nameleſs trifles, to conform himſelf to it. He will never peeviſhly contradict his parent; and when he of⯑fers a contrary opinion, he will offer it modeſtly. Reſpect will teach him alſo, not only to put the beſt colouring upon the infirmities of his parent; but even [5] if thoſe infirmities be great, it will ſof⯑ten and ſcreen them, as much as poſſi⯑ble, from the public eye.

Obedience goes a ſtep further, and ſuppoſes a poſitive command. In things unlawful indeed, the parental authority cannot bind: but this is a caſe that rarely happens. The great danger is on the other ſide, that children, through obſtinacy, or ſulleneſs, ſhould refuſe their parents lawful commands; to the obſervance of all which, however in⯑convenient to themſelves, they are tied by various motives; and above all, by the command of God; who in his ſacred denunciations againſt ſin, ranks diſobe⯑dience to parents among the worſt.^*

They are farther bound, not only to obey the commands of their parents; [6] but to obey them chearfully. He does but half his duty, who does it not from his heart.

There remains ſtill a third part of filial duty, which peculiarly belongs to children, when grown up. This the catechiſm calls ſuccouring, or adminiſ⯑tring to the neceſſities of the parent; either in the way of managing his affairs, when he is leſs able to manage them himſelf; or in ſupplying his wants, ſhould he need aſſiſtance in that way. And this the child ſhould do, on the united principles of love, duty, and gra⯑titude. The hypocritical jew would ſometimes evade this duty, by dedicat⯑ing to ſacred uſes, what ſhould have been expended in aſſiſting his parent. Our Saviour ſharply rebukes this per⯑verſion of duty; and gives him to un⯑derſtand, that no pretence of ſerving [7] God, can cover the neglect of aſſiſting a parent. And if no pretence of ſerving God can do it, ſurely every other pre⯑tence muſt ſtill be more unnatural.

Under this head alſo we may conſider that attention, and love, which are due to other relations, eſpecially that mutual affection, which ſhould ſubſiſt between brothers. The name of brother expreſ⯑ſes the higheſt degree of tenderneſs; and is generally uſed in ſcripture, as a term of peculiar endearment, to call men to the practice of ſocial virtue. It reminds them of every kindneſs, which man can ſhew to man. If then, we ought to treat all mankind with the affection of brothers, in what light muſt they ap⯑pear, who being really ſuch, are ever at variance with each other; continually doing ſpiteful actions, and ſhewing upon every occaſion, not only a want of bro⯑therly [8] kindneſs; but even of common regard?

The next part of our duty, is "to honour and obey the king, and all that are put in authority under him."

By the "king, and all that are put in authority under him," is meant the various parts of the government we live under, of which the king is the head: and the meaning of the precept is, that we ought to live in dutiful ſubmiſſion to legal authority.

Government and ſociety are united. We cannot have one without the other; and we ſubmit to the inconveniences, for the ſake of the advantages.

The end of ſociety is mutual ſafety and convenience. Without it, even [9] ſafety could in no degree be obtained: the good would become a prey to the bad: nay the very human ſpecies to the beaſts of the field.

Still leſs could we obtain the conve⯑niences of life; which cannot be had without the labour of many. If every man depended upon himſelf for what he enjoyed, how deſtitute would be the ſituation of human affairs!

But even ſafety and convenience are not the only fruits of ſociety. Man, living merely by himſelf, would be an ignorant, unpoliſhed ſavage. It is the intercourſe of ſociety, which cultivates the human mind. One man's know⯑ledge, and experience is built upon ano⯑ther's; and ſo the great edifice of ſcience, and poliſhed life, is reared.

[10]To enjoy theſe advantages, therefore, men joined in ſociety; and hence it be⯑came neceſſary, that government ſhould be eſtabliſhed. Magiſtrates were crea⯑ted; laws made; taxes ſubmitted to; and every one, inſtead of righting him⯑ſelf (except in mere ſelf-defence) is in⯑joined to appeal to the laws he lives un⯑der, as the beſt ſecurity of his life and property.

LECTURE XV.

[13]WE are next injoined "to ſubmit ourſelves to all our governors, teachers, ſpiritual paſtors, and maſters." Here another ſpecies of government is pointed out. The laws of ſociety are meant to govern our riper years: the inſtructions of our teachers, ſpiritual paſtors, and maſters are meant to guide our youth,

By our "teachers, ſpiritual paſtors, and maſters," are meant all thoſe, who have the care of our education, and of our inſtruction in religion; whom we are to obey, and liſten to with humility, and attention, as the means of our advancement in know⯑ledge, and religion. The inſtructions we receive from them, are unqueſtiona⯑bly ſubject to our own judgment in fu⯑ture life; for by his own judgment [14] every man muſt ſtand, or fall. But, during our youth, it is highly proper for us to pay a dutiful ſubmiſſion to their inſtructions, as we cannot yet be ſuppoſed to have formed any judgment of our own. At that early age, it ſhould be our endeavour to acquire knowledge; and afterwards unpreju⯑diced to form our opinions.

The duty which young people owe to their inſtructors, cannot be ſhewn bet⯑ter, than in the effect, which the in⯑ſtructions they receive, have upon them. They would do well, therefore, to con⯑ſider the advantages of an early atten⯑tion to theſe two things, both of great importance, knowledge and religion.

The great uſe of knowledge in all its various branches (to which the learned languages are generally conſidered as an [15] introduction) is to free the mind from the prejudices of ignorance; and to give it juſter, and more enlarged concepti⯑ons, than are the mere growth of rude nature. By reading, you add the ex⯑perience of others to your own. It is the improvement of the mind chiefly, that makes the difference between man and man; and gives one man, a real ſuperiority over another.

Beſides, the mind muſt be employed. The lower orders of men have their at⯑tention much ingroſſed by thoſe em⯑ployments, in which the neceſſities of life engage them: and it is happy that they have. Labour ſtands in the room of education; and fills up thoſe vacan⯑cies of mind, which in a ſtate of idle⯑neſs would be ingroſſed by vice. And if they, who have more leiſure, do not ſubſtitute ſomething in the room of this, [16] their minds alſo will become the prey of vice; and the more ſo, as they have the means to indulge it more in their power. A vacant mind is exactly that houſe mentioned in the goſpel, which the de⯑vil found empty. In he entered; and taking with him ſeven other ſpirits more wicked than himſelf, they took poſ⯑ſeſſion. It is an undoubted truth, that one vice indulged, introduces others; and that each ſucceeding vice becomes more depraved.—If then the mind muſt be employed, what can fill up its vacuities more rationally than the acquiſition of knowledge? Let us there⯑fore thank God for the opportunities he hath afforded us; and not turn into a curſe thoſe means of leiſure, which might become ſo great a bleſſing.

But however neceſſary to us know⯑ledge may be, religion, we know, is [17] infinitely more ſo. The one adorns a man, and gives him, it is true, ſuperi⯑ority, and rank in life: but the other is abſolutely eſſential to his happineſs.

In the midſt of youth, health, and abundance, the world is apt to appear a very gay, and pleaſing ſcene; it en⯑gages our deſires; and in a degree ſa⯑tisfies them alſo. But it is wiſdom to conſider, that a time will come, when youth, health, and fortune will all fail us; and if diſappointment, and vexa⯑tion do not ſour our taſte for pleaſure, at leaſt ſickneſs and infirmities will de⯑ſtroy it. In theſe gloomy ſeaſons, and above all, at the approach of death, what will become of us without religi⯑on? When this world fails, where ſhall we fly, if we expect no refuge in another? Without holy hope in God, and reſignation to his will, and truſt in [18] him for deliverance, what is there that can ſecure us againſt the evils of life?

The great utility therefore of know⯑ledge and religion being thus apparent, it is highly incumbent upon us to pay a ſtudious attention to them in our youth. If we do not, it is more than probable, that we ſhall never do it; that we ſhall grow old in ignorance, by neglecting the one; and old in vice, by neglecting the other.

For improvement in knowledge, youth is certainly the fitteſt ſeaſon. The mind is then ready to receive any im⯑preſſion. It is free from all that care, and attention, which, in riper age, the affairs of life bring with them. The memory too is then ſtronger; and bet⯑ter able to acquire the rudiments of knowledge; and as the mind is then [19] void of ideas, it is more ſuited to thoſe parts of learning, which are converſant in words. Beſides, there is ſometimes in youth a modeſty, and ductility, which in advanced years, if thoſe years eſpecially have been left a prey to igno⯑rance, become ſelf-ſufficiency, and pre⯑judice; and theſe effectually bar up all the inlets to knowledge.—But, above all, unleſs habits of attention, and ap⯑plication are early gained, we ſhall ſcarce acquire them afterwards.—The inconſiderate youth ſeldom reflects up⯑on this; nor knows his loſs, till he knows alſo, that it cannot be retrieved.

Nor is youth more the ſeaſon to ac⯑quire knowledge, than to form religious habits. It is a great point to get habit on the ſide of virtue. It will make every thing ſmooth, and eaſy. The earlieſt principles are generally the moſt [20] laſting; and thoſe of a religious caſt are ſeldom wholly loſt. Though the temptations of the world may, now and then, draw the well-principled youth aſide; yet his principles being continu⯑ally at war with his practice, there is hope, that in the end the better part may overcome the worſe, and bring on a reformation. Whereas he, who has ſuffered habits of vice to get poſſeſſion of his youth, has little chance of being brought back to a ſenſe of religion. In a common courſe of things it can rarely happen. Some calamity muſt rouſe him. He muſt be awakened by a ſtorm, or ſleep for ever.—How much better is it then to make that eaſy to us, which we know is beſt? And to form thoſe habits now, which hereafter we ſhall wiſh we had formed?

[21]There are, who would reſtrain youth from imbibing any religious principles, till they can judge for themſelves; leſt they ſhould imbibe prejudice for truth. But why ſhould not the ſame caution be uſed in ſcience alſo; and the minds of youth left void of all impreſſions? The experiment, I fear, in both caſes would be dangerous. If the mind were left uncultivated during ſo long a period, though nothing elſe ſhould find entrance, vice certainly would: and it would make the larger ſhoots, as the ſoil would be vacant. A boy had better receive knowledge and religion mixed with error, than none at all. For when the mind is ſet a think⯑ing, it may depoſit its prejudices by de⯑grees, and get right at laſt: but in a ſtate of ſtagnation it will infallibly be⯑come foul.

[22]To conclude, our youth bears the ſame proportion to our more advanced life, as this world does to the next. In this life we muſt form, and cultivate thoſe habits of virtue, which muſt quali⯑fy us for a better ſtate. If we neglect them here, and contract habits of an op⯑poſite kind, inſtead of gaining that ex⯑alted ſtate, which is promiſed to our improvement, we ſhall of courſe ſink into that ſtate, which is adapted to the habits we have formed.

Exactly thus is youth introductory to manhood; to which it is properly ſpeaking a ſtate of preparation. During this ſeaſon we muſt qualify ourſelves for the parts we are to act hereafter. In manhood we bear the fruit, which has in youth been planted. If we have ſauntered away our youth, we muſt ex⯑pect to be ignorant men. If indolence [23] and inattention have taken an early poſ⯑ſeſſion of us, they will probably in⯑creaſe, as we advance in life; and make us a burden to ourſelves, and uſeleſs to ſociety. If again, we ſuffer ourſelves to be miſled by vicious inclinations, they will daily get new ſtrength, and end in diſſolute lives. But if we culti⯑vate our minds in our youth, attain habits of attention and induſtry, of vir⯑tue, and ſobriety, we ſhall find our⯑ſelves well prepared to act our future parts in life; and, what above all things ought to be our care, by gaining this command over ourſelves, we ſhall be more able, as we get forward in the world, to reſiſt every new temptation, as it ariſes.

LECTURE XVI.

[27]WE are next injoined "to order ourſelves lowly and reverently, to all our betters."

By our betters are meant they who are in a ſuperior ſtation of life to our own; and by "ordering ourſelves low⯑ly and reverently towards them," is meant paying them that reſpect, which is due to their ſtation.

The word betters indeed includes two kinds of perſons, to whom our reſpect is due—thoſe, who have a natural claim to it; and thoſe who have an acquired one; that is, a claim ariſing from ſome particular ſituation in life.

Among the firſt, are all our ſuperior relations; not only parents; but all other relations, who are in a line above [28] us. All theſe have a natural claim to our reſpect.—There is a reſpect alſo due from youth to age; which is always becoming; and tends to keep youth within the bounds of modeſty.

To others, reſpect is due from thoſe particular ſtations, which ariſe from ſo⯑ciety and government. Fear God, ſays the text; and it adds, "honour the king."

It is due alſo from many other ſituati⯑ons in life. Employments, honours, and even wealth will exact it; and all may juſtly exact it, in a proper degree.

But it may here perhaps be inquired, why God ſhould permit this latter diſ⯑tinction among men? That ſome ſhould have more authority than others, we can eaſily ſee, is abſolutely neceſſary in [29] government; but among men, who are all born equal, why ſhould the goods of life be diſtributed in ſo unequal a pro⯑portion?

To this inquiry, it may be anſwered, that, in the firſt place, we ſee nothing in this, but what is common in all the works of God. A gradation is every where obſervable. Beauty, ſtrength; ſwiftneſs, and other qualities, are varied through the creation in numberleſs de⯑grees. In the ſame manner likewiſe are varied the gifts of fortune, as they are called. Why therefore ſhould one man's being richer than another, ſur⯑prize us more than his being ſtronger than another, or more prudent?

Though we can but very inadequately trace the wiſdom of God in his works, yet very wiſe reaſons appear for this [30] variety in the gifts of fortune. It ſeems neceſſary both in a civil, and in a moral light.

In a civil light, it is the neceſſa⯑ry accompaniment of various employ⯑ments; on which depend all the advan⯑tages of ſociety. Like the ſtones of a regular building, ſome muſt range higher, and ſome lower; ſome muſt ſupport, and others be ſupported; ſome will form the ſtrength of the building, and others its ornament; but all unite in producing one regular, and propor⯑tioned whole. If then different employ⯑ments are neceſſary, of courſe different degrees of wealth, honour, and conſe⯑quence muſt follow; a variety of diſ⯑tinctions, and obligations; in ſhort, different ranks, and a ſubordination muſt take place.

[31]Again in a moral light, the diſpro⯑portion of wealth, and other worldly adjuncts gives a range to the more ex⯑tenſive exerciſe of virtue. Some virtues could but faintly exiſt upon the plan of an equality. If ſome did not abound, there were little room for temperance: if ſome did not ſuffer need, there were as little for patience. Other virtues again could hardly exiſt at all. Who could practiſe generoſity, where there was no object of it? Who, humility, where all ambitious deſires were ex⯑cluded?

Since then providence, in ſcattering theſe various gifts, propoſes ultimately the good of man, it is our duty to ac⯑quieſce in this order, and "to behave ourſelves lowly, and reverently" (not with ſervility, but with a decent re⯑ſpect) "to all our ſuperiors."

[32]Before I conclude this ſubject, it may be proper to obſerve, in vindication of the ways of providence, that we are not to ſuppoſe happineſs and miſery neceſſarily connected with riches and poverty. Each condition hath its particular ſources both of pleaſure and pain, unknown to the other. Thoſe in elevated ſtations have a thouſand latent pangs, of which their inferiors have no idea: while their inferiors again have as many pleaſures, which the others cannot taſte. I ſpeak only of ſuch modes of happineſs or mi⯑ſery as ariſe immediately from different ſtations. Of miſery, indeed, from a variety of other cauſes, all men of every ſtation are equal heirs; either when God lays his hand upon us in ſickneſs, or misfortune; or when, by our own follies and vices, we become the mini⯑ſters of our own diſtreſs.

[33]Who then would build his happineſs upon an elevated ſtation? Or who would envy the poſſeſſion of ſuch happi⯑neſs in another? We know not with what various diſtreſſes that ſtation, which is the object of our envy, may be at⯑tended.—Beſides, as we are accountable for all we poſſeſs, it may be happy for us, that we poſſeſs ſo little. The means of happineſs, as far as ſtation can procure them, are commonly in our own power, if we are not wanting to ourſelves.

Let each of us then do his duty in that ſtation which providence has aſ⯑ſigned him; ever remembering, that the next world will ſoon deſtroy all earthly diſtinctions.—One diſtinction only will remain among the ſons of men at that time—the diſtinction between good and bad; and this diſtinction it is worth all our pains and all our ambition to acquire.

LECTURE XVII.

[37]WE are next inſtructed "to hurt nobody by word, or deed—to be true and juſt in all our dealings—to bear no malice nor hatred in our hearts —to keep our hands from picking and ſtealing—our tongues from evil-ſpeak⯑ing, lying, and ſlandering."

The duties comprehended in theſe words are a little tranſpoſed. What ſhould claſs under one head is brought under another. "To hurt nobody by word, or deed," is the general propoſi⯑tion. The under parts ſhould follow: Firſt, "to keep the tongue from evil-ſpeaking, lying, and ſlandering;" which is, "to hurt nobody by word." Se⯑condly, "to be true and juſt in all our dealings;" and "to keep our hands from picking and ſtealing;" which is, "to hurt nobody by deed." As to the [38] injunction, "to bear no malice nor hatred in our hearts," it belongs pro⯑perly to neither of theſe heads; but is a diſtinct one by itſelf. The duties being thus ſeparated, I ſhall proceed to explain them.

And, firſt, of injuring our neighbour by our "words." This may be done, we find, in three ways; by "evil-ſpeak⯑ing, by lying, and by ſlandering."

By "evil-ſpeaking" is meant ſpeak⯑ing ill of our neighbour; but upon a ſuppoſition, that this ill is the truth. In ſome circumſtances it is certainly right to ſpeak ill of our neighbour; as when we are called upon in a court of juſtice to give our evidence; or, when we can ſet any one right in his opinion of a perſon, in whom he is about to put an improper confidence. Nor can there [39] be any harm in ſpeaking of a bad action, which has been determined in a court of juſtice, or is otherwiſe become notorious.

But, on the other hand, it is highly diſallowable to ſpeak wantonly of the characters of others from common fame; becauſe, in a thouſand inſtances, we find that ſtories, which have no better foun⯑dation, are miſrepreſented. They are perhaps only half-told—they have been heard through the medium of malice, or envy—ſome favourable circumſtance hath been omitted—ſome foreign cir⯑cumſtance hath been added—ſome trif⯑ling circumſtance hath been exaggerated —the motive, the provocation, or per⯑haps the reparation, hath been conceal⯑ed—in ſhort, the repreſentation of the fact is, ſome way or other, totally dif⯑ferent from the fact itſelf.

[40]But even, when we have the beſt evidence of a bad action, with all its circumſtances before us, we ſurely indulge a very ill-natured pleaſure in ſpreading the ſhame of an offending brother. We can do no good; and we may do harm: we may weaken his good reſolutions by expoſing him: we may harden him againſt the world. Perhaps it may be his firſt bad action. Perhaps nobody is privy to it but our⯑ſelves, Let us give him at leaſt one trial. Let us not caſt the firſt ſtone. Which of our lives could ſtand ſo ſtrict a ſcrutiny? He only who is without ſin himſelf can have any excuſe for treat⯑ing his brother with ſeverity.

Let us next conſider "lying;" which is an intention to deceive by falſehood in our words.—To warn us againſt ly⯑ing, we ſhould do well to conſider the [41] folly, the meanneſs, and the wickedneſs of it.

The folly of lying conſiſts in its defeating its own purpoſe. A habit of lying is generally in the end detect⯑ed; and, after a detection, the liar, in⯑ſtead of deceiving, will not even be be⯑lieved, when he happens to ſpeak the truth. Nay, every ſingle lie is attended with ſuch a variety of circumſtances, which lead to a detection, that it is of⯑ten diſcovered. The uſe generally made of a lie is to cover a fault; but as the end is ſeldom anſwered, we only aggra⯑vate what we wiſh to conceal. In point even of prudence, an honeſt confeſſion would ſerve us better.

The meanneſs of lying ariſes from the cowardice which it implies. We dare not boldly and nobly ſpeak the [42] truth; but have recourſe to low ſub⯑terfuges, which always argue a ſordid, and diſingenuous mind. Hence it is, that in the faſhionable world, the word liar is always conſidered as a term of pe⯑culiar reproach.

The wickedneſs of lying conſiſts in its perverting one of the greateſt bleſ⯑ſings of God, the uſe of ſpeech, in making that a miſchief to mankind, which was intended for a benefit. Truth is the great bond of ſociety. Falſhood, of courſe, tends to its diſſolution. If one man may lye, why not another? And if there is no mutual truſt among men, there is an end of all intercourſe and dealing.

An equivocation is nearly related to a lye. It is an intention to deceive un⯑der words of a double meaning; or [43] words, which, literally ſpeaking, are true, and is equally criminal with the moſt downright breach of truth. When St. Peter aſked Sapphira (in the 5th chap⯑ter of the Acts) "whether her huſband had ſold the land for ſo much?" She anſwered, he had: and literally ſhe ſpoke the truth: for he had ſold it for that ſum, included in a larger. But having an intention to deceive, we we find the apoſtle conſidered the equi⯑vocation as a lye.

In ſhort, it is the intention to deceive, which is criminal: the mode of decep⯑tion, like the vehicle in which poiſon is conveyed, is of no conſequence. A nod, or ſign, may convey a lye as effectually, as the moſt deceitful language.

Under the head of lying may be men⯑tioned a breach of promiſe. While a re⯑ſolution [44] remains in our own breaſts, it is ſubject to our own review: but when we make another perſon a party with us, an engagement is made; and every en⯑gagement, though only of the lighteſt kind, ſhould be punctually obſerved. If we have added to this engagement a ſolemn promiſe, the obligation is ſo much the ſtronger; and he who does not think himſelf bound by ſuch an obligation, has no pretenſions to the character of an honeſt man. A breach of promiſe is ſtill worſe than a lye. A lye is, ſimply a breach of truth: but a breach of promiſe, is a breach both of truth and truſt.

Forgetfulneſs is a weak excuſe. It only ſhews how little we are affected by ſo ſolemn an engagement. Should we forget to call for a ſum of money, of which we were in want, at an appointed [45] time? Or do we think a ſolemn pro⯑miſe of leſs value, than a ſum of mo⯑ney?

Having conſidered evil-ſpeaking and lying, let us next conſider ſlandering. By ſlandering we mean, injuring our neighbour's character by falſhood. Here we ſtill riſe higher in the ſcale of inju⯑rious words. Slandering our neighbour is the greateſt injury, which words can do him; and is, therefore, worſe than either evil-ſpeaking, or lying. The miſ⯑chief of this ſin depends on the value of our characters. All men, unleſs they be paſt feeling, deſire naturally to be thought well of by their fellow-crea⯑tures; a good character is one of the principal means of being ſerviceable ei⯑ther to ourſelves, or others; and among numbers, the very bread they eat, de⯑pends upon it. What aggravated inju⯑ry, [46] therefore, do we bring upon every man, whoſe name we ſlander? And, what is ſtill worſe, the injury is irrepa⯑rable. If you defraud a man; reſtore what you took, and the injury is re⯑paired. But, if you ſlander him, it is not in your power to ſhut up all the ears, and all the mouths, to which your tale may have acceſs. The evil ſpreads, like the winged ſeeds of ſome noxious plants, which ſcatter miſchief on a breath of air, and diſperſe it on every ſide, and beyond prevention.

Before we conclude this ſubject, it may juſt be mentioned, that a ſlander may be ſpread, as a lye may be told, in various ways. We may do it by an in⯑ſinuation, as well as in a direct manner; we may ſpread it in a ſecret; or propa⯑gate it under the colour of friendſhip.

[47]I may add alſo, that it is a ſpecies of ſlander, and often a very malignant one, to leſſen the merits, or exaggerate the failings of others; as it is likewiſe to omit defending a miſrepreſented character; or to let others bear the blame of our offences.

LECTURE XVIII.

[51]HAVING thus conſidered injurious words, let us next conſider inju⯑rious actions. On this head we are in⯑joined "to keep our hands from picking and ſtealing, and to be true and juſt in all our dealings."

As to theft, it is a crime of ſo odious, and vile a nature, that one would ima⯑gine no perſon, who hath had the leaſt tincture of a virtuous education, even though driven to neceſſity, could be led into it.—I ſhall not, therefore, enter into a diſſuaſive from this crime; but go on with the explanation of the other part of the injunction, and ſee what it is to be true and juſt in all our deal⯑ings.

Juſtice is even ſtill more, if poſſible, the ſupport of ſociety, than truth: in⯑aſmuch [52] as a man may be more injurious by his actions, than by his words. It is for this reaſon, that the whole force of human law is bent to reſtrain injuſtice; and the happineſs of every ſociety will increaſe, in proportion to this reſtraint.

We very much err, however, if we ſuppoſe, that every thing within the bounds of law is juſtice. The law was intended only for bad men; and it is impoſſible to make the meſhes of it ſo ſtrait, but that many very great enormi⯑ties will eſcape. The well meaning man, therefore, knowing, that the law was not made for him, conſults a better guide—his own conſcience, informed by religion. And, indeed, the great difference between the good and the bad man conſiſts in this: the good man will do nothing, but what his conſcience [53] will allow: the bad man will do any thing, which the law cannot reach.

It would, indeed, be endleſs to de⯑ſcribe the various ways, in which a man may be diſhoneſt within the limits of law. They are as various, as our in⯑tercourſe with mankind. Some of the moſt obvious of them I ſhall curſorily mention.

In matters of commerce the knave has many opportunities. The different qualities of the ſame commodity—the different modes of adulteration—the ſpe⯑cious arts of vending—the frequent ig⯑norance in purchaſing; and a variety of other circumſtances, open an endleſs field to the ingenuity of fraud. The honeſt fair-dealer, in the mean time, has only one rule, which is, that all arts, however common in buſineſs, which [54] are intended to deceive, are utterly un⯑lawful. It may be added, upon this head, that if any one, conſcious of hav⯑ing been a tranſgreſſor, is deſirous of re⯑pairing his fault, reſtitution is by all means neceſſary: till that be done, he continues in a courſe of injuſtice.

Again, in matters of contract, a man has many opportunities of being diſho⯑neſt within the bounds of law. He may be ſtrict in obſerving the letter of an agreement, when the equitable meaning requires a laxer interpretation: or, he can take the laxer interpretation, when it ſerves his purpoſe; and at the loop⯑hole of ſome ambiguous expreſſion, ex⯑clude the literal meaning, though it be undoubtedly the true one.

The ſame iniquity appears in with⯑holding from another his juſt right; [55] or in putting him to expence, in re⯑covering it. The movements of the law are ſlow; and in many caſes cannot be otherwiſe: but he who takes the ad⯑vantage of this to injure his neighbour, proves himſelf an undoubted knave.

It is a ſpecies of the ſame kind of in⯑juſtice to withhold a debt, when we have ability to pay; or to run into debt, when we have not that ability. The former can proceed only from a bad diſpoſition: the latter, from ſuffering our deſires to exceed our ſtation. Some are excuſed, on this head, as men of generous principles, which they cannot confine. But what is their generoſity? They aſſiſt one man by injuring another. And what good ariſes to ſociety from hence? Such perſons cannot act on principle; and we need not heſitate to rank them with thoſe, who run into [56] debt to gratify their own ſelfiſh inclina⯑tions. One man deſires the elegancies of life; another deſires what he thinks an equal good, the reputation of gene⯑roſity.

Oppreſſion is another ſpecies of in⯑juſtice; by which, in a thouſand ways, under the cover of law, we may take the advantage of the ſuperiority of our power, either to cruſh an inferior, or humble him to our deſigns.

Ingratitude is another. A loan, we know, claims a legal return. And is the obligation leſs, if, inſtead of a loan, you receive a kindneſs? The law, in⯑deed, ſays nothing on this point of im⯑morality; but an honeſt conſcience will be very loud in the condemnation of it.

[57]We may be unjuſt alſo in our reſent⯑ment; by carrying it beyond what rea⯑ſon and religion preſcribe.

But it would be endleſs to deſcribe the various ways, in which injuſtice diſ⯑covers itſelf. In truth, almoſt every omiſſion of duty may be reſolved into injuſtice.

The next precept is, "to bear no malice, nor hatred in our hearts."

The malice and hatred of our hearts ariſe, in the firſt place, from injurious treatment; and ſurely no man, when he is injured, can at firſt help feeling that he is ſo. But Chriſtianity requires, that we ſhould ſubdue theſe feelings, as ſoon as poſſible; "and not ſuffer the ſun to go down upon our wrath."Va⯑rious are the paſſages of ſcripture, which [58] inculcate the forgiveneſs of injuries. In⯑deed, no point is more laboured than this; and with reaſon, becauſe no tem⯑per is more productive of evil, both to ourſelves and others, than a malicious one. The ſenſations of a mind burning with revenge, are beyond deſcription: and as we are at theſe ſeaſons very un⯑able to judge coolly; and of courſe, liable to carry our reſentment too far, the conſequence is, that, in our rage, we may do a thouſand things, which can never be atoned for; and of which we may repent as long as we live.

Beſides, one act draws on another; and retaliation keeps the quarrel alive. The goſpel, therefore, ever gracious, and kind to man, in all its precepts, injoins us to check all theſe violent emo⯑tions; and to leave our cauſe in the hands of God. "Vengeance is mine, [59] I will repay, ſaith the Lord:" and he, who, in oppoſition to this precept, takes vengeance into his own hands, and che⯑riſhes the malice and hatred of his heart, may aſſure himſelf, that he has not yet learned to be a Chriſtian. Theſe precepts, perhaps, may not entirely agree with modern principles of honour: but let the man of honour ſee to that. The maxims of the world cannot change the truth of the goſpel.

Nay, even in recovering our juſt right, or in purſuing a criminal to juſ⯑tice, we ſhould take care, that it be not done in the ſpirit of retaliation and re⯑venge. If theſe be our motives, though we make the law our inſtrument, we are equally guilty.

But beſides injurious treatment, the malice and hatred of our hearts [60] have often another ſource, and that is envy: and thus in the litany, "envy, malice, and hatred," are all joined to⯑gether with great propriety. The emo⯑tions of envy are generally cooler, and leſs violent, than thoſe which ariſe from the reſentment of injury; ſo that envy is ſeldom ſo miſchievous in its effects as revenge: but with regard to ourſelves, it is altogether as bad, and full as de⯑ſtructive of the ſpirit of chriſtianity. What is the religion of that man, who inſtead of thanking heaven for the bleſ⯑ſings he receives, is fretting himſelf continually with a diſagreeable compa⯑riſon between himſelf and ſome other? He cannot enjoy what he has, becauſe another has more wealth, a fairer fame, or perhaps more merit, than himſelf. He is miſerable, becauſe others are happy.

[61]But to omit the wickedneſs of envy, how abſurd and fooliſh is it, in a world where we muſt neceſſarily expect much real miſery, to be perniciouſly inventive in producing it?

Beſides, what ignorance! We ſee only the glaring outſide of things. Un⯑der all that envied glare, many unſeen diſtreſſes may lurk, from which our ſtation may be free: for our merciful creator ſeems to have beſtowed happi⯑neſs, as far as ſtation is concerned, with great equality among all his creatures.

In concluſion, therefore, let it be the great object of our attention, and the ſubject of our prayers, to rid our minds of all this curſed intruſion of evil thoughts—whether they proceed from malice, or from an envious temper. Let all our malicious thoughts ſoften [62] into charity and benevolence; and let us "forgive one another, as God, for Chriſt's ſake, has forgiven us." As for our envious thoughts, as far as they re⯑late to externals, let them ſubſide in humility, acquieſcence, and ſubmiſſion to the will of God. And when we are tempted to envy the good qualities of others, let us ſpurn ſo baſe a concep⯑tion, and change it into a generous e⯑mulation—into an endeavour to raiſe ourſelves to an equality with our rival, not to depreſs him to a level with us.

LECTURE XIX.

[65]THUS far the duties we have con⯑ſidered, come moſt properly un⯑der the head of thoſe which we owe to our neighbour; what follows, relates rather to ourſelves. On this head, we are inſtructed "to keep our bodies in temperance, ſoberneſs, and chaſtity."

Though our ſouls ſhould be our great concern, yet, as they are nearly con⯑nected with our bodies, and as the im⯑purity of the one contaminates the other, a great degree of moral attention is, of courſe, due to our bodies alſo.

As our firſt ſtation is in this world, to which our bodies particularly belong, they are formed with ſuch appetites, as are requiſite to our commodious liv⯑ing in it; and the rule given us is, "to uſe the world ſo as not to abuſe it." St. [66] Paul, by a beautiful alluſion, calls our bodies the "temples of the Holy Ghoſt:" by which he means to impreſs us with a ſtrong idea of their dignity; and to deter us from debaſing by low pleaſures, what ſhould be the ſeat of ſo much purity. To youth theſe cautions are above meaſure neceſſary, becauſe their paſſions and appetites are ſtrong; their reaſon and judgement weak. They are prone to pleaſure, and void of re⯑flection. How, therefore, theſe young adventurers in life may beſt ſteer their courſe, and uſe this ſinful world ſo as not to abuſe it, is a conſideration well worth their attention. Let us then ſee under what regulations their appetites ſhould be reſtrained.

By keeping our bodies in temperance is meant avoiding exceſs in eating, with regard both to the quantity and quality [67] of our food. We ſhould neither eat more than our ſtomachs can well bear; nor be nice and delicate in our eating.

To preſerve the body in health is the end of eating; and they who regulate themſelves merely by this end, who eat without choice or diſtinction, paying no regard to the pleaſure of eating, obſerve perhaps the beſt rule of temperance. They go rather indeed beyond tempe⯑rance, and may be called abſtemious. A man may be temperate, and yet al⯑low himſelf a little more indulgence. Great care, however, is here neceſſary; and the more, as perhaps no preciſe rule can be affixed, after we have paſſed the firſt great limit, and let the palate looſe among variety.^* Our own diſcre⯑tion [68] muſt be our guide, which ſhould be conſtantly kept awake by conſider⯑ing the many bad conſequences, which attend a breach of temperance.—Young men, in the full vigour of health, do not conſider theſe things; but as age comes on, and different maladies begin to appear, they may perhaps re⯑pent, they did not, a little earlier, practiſe the rules of temperance.

In a moral and religious light, the conſequences of intemperance are ſtill worſe. To enjoy a comfortable meal, when it comes before us, is allowable: but he who ſuffers his mind to dwell upon the pleaſures of eating, and makes [69] them the employment of his thoughts, has at leaſt opened one ſource of mental corruption.^*

After all, he who would moſt per⯑fectly enjoy the pleaſures of the table, ſuch as they are, muſt look for them within the rules of temperance. The palate accuſtomed to ſatiety hath loſt its tone; and the greateſt ſenſualiſts have been brought to confeſs, that the coarſeſt fare, with an appetite kept in order by temperance, affords a more delicious repaſt, than the moſt luxurious meal without it.

As temperance relates chiefly to eat⯑ing, ſoberneſs or ſobriety relates pro⯑perly [70] to drinking. And here the ſame obſervations recur. The ſtricteſt, and perhaps the beſt rule, is merely to ſa⯑tisfy the end of drinking. But if a little more indulgence be taken, it ought to be taken with the greateſt cir⯑cumſpection.

With regard to youth indeed, I ſhould be inclined to great ſtrictneſs on this head. In eating, if they eat of pro⯑per and ſimple food, they cannot eaſily err. Their growing limbs, and ſtrong exerciſe, require larger ſupplies than full-grown bodies, which muſt be kept in order by a more rigid temperance. But if more indulgence be allowed them in eating, leſs, ſurely, ſhould in drink⯑ing. With ſtrong liquors of every kind they have nothing to do; and if they ſhould totally abſtain on this head, it were ſo much the better. The languor [71] which attends age,^* requires perhaps, now and then, ſome aids; but the ſpi⯑rits of youth want no recruits: a little reſt is ſufficient.

As to the bad conſequences derived from exceſſive drinking, beſides filling the blood with bloated and vicious hu⯑mours, and debauching the purity of the mind, as in the caſe of intemperate eating, it is attended with this peculiar evil, the loſs of our ſenſes. Hence fol⯑low frequent inconveniences and morti⯑fications. We expoſe our follies—we betray our ſecrets—we are often impo⯑ſed upon—we quarrel with our friends —we lay ourſelves open to our enemies; and, in ſhort, make ourſelves the ob⯑jects [72] of contempt, and the topics of ri⯑dicule to all our acquaintance.—Nor is it only the act of intoxication which de⯑prives us of our reaſon during the pre⯑valence of it; the habit of drunkenneſs ſoon beſots and impairs the underſtand⯑ing, and renders us at all times leſs fit for the offices of life.

We are next injoined "to keep our bodies in chaſtity." "Flee youthful luſts," ſays the apoſtle, "which war a⯑gainſt the ſoul." And there is ſurely nothing which carries on a war againſt the ſoul more ſucceſsfully. Wherever we have a catalogue in ſcripture (and we have many ſuch catalogues) of thoſe ſins, which in a peculiar manner de⯑bauch the mind, theſe youthful luſts have always, under ſome denomination, a place among them.—To keep our⯑ſelves free from all contagion of this [73] kind, let us endeavour to preſerve a purity in our thoughts—our words— and our actions.

Firſt, let us preſerve a purity in our thoughts. Theſe dark receſſes, which the eye of the world cannot reach, are the receptacles of theſe youthful luſts. Here they find their firſt encourage⯑ment. The entrance of ſuch impure ideas perhaps we cannot always prevent. We may always however prevent che⯑riſhing them: we may always prevent their making an impreſſion upon us: the devil may be caſt out, as ſoon as diſcovered.

Let us always keep in mind, that even into theſe dark abodes the eye of heaven can penetrate: that every thought of our hearts is open to that God, before whom we muſt one day [74] ſtand; and that however ſecretly we may indulge theſe impure ideas, at the great day of account, they will certainly appear in an awful detail againſt us.

Let us remember again, that if our bodies be the temples of the Holy Ghoſt, our minds are the very ſanctua⯑ries of thoſe temples: and if there be any weight in the apoſtle's argument a⯑gainſt polluting our bodies, it urges with double force againſt polluting our minds.

But above all other conſiderations, it behoves us moſt to keep our thoughts pure, becauſe they are the fountains from which our words and actions flow. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth ſpeaketh." Obſcene words and actions are only bad thoughts ma⯑tured; and ſpring as naturally from [75] them, as the plant from its ſeed. It is the ſame vicious depravity carried a ſtep farther; and only ſhews a more confirmed, and a more miſchievous de⯑gree of guilt. While we keep our im⯑purities in our thoughts, they debauch only ourſelves: bad enough, it is true. But when we proceed to words and ac⯑tions, we let our impurities looſe: we ſpread the contagion, and become the corrupters of others.

Let it be our firſt care, therefore, to keep our thoughts pure. If we do this, our words and actions will be pure of courſe. And that we may be the bet⯑ter enabled to do it, let us uſe ſuch helps as reaſon and religion preſcribe. Let us avoid all company, and all books, that have a tendency to corrupt our minds; and every thing that can inflame our paſſions. He who allows [76] himſelf in theſe things, holds a parley with vice; which will infallibly de⯑bauch him in the end, if he do not take the alarm in time, and break off ſuch dalliance.

One thing ought to be our particular care, and that is, never to be unem⯑ployed. Ingenious amuſements are of great uſe in filling up the vacuities of our time. Idle we ſhould never be. A vacant mind is an invitation to vice.

LECTURE XX.

[79]WE are forbidden, next, "to co⯑vet, or deſire other men's goods."

There are two great paths of vice, into which bad men commonly ſtrike; that of unlawful pleaſure, and that of unlawful gain.—The path of unlawful pleaſure we have juſt examined; and have ſeen the danger of obeying the headſtrong impulſe of our appetites.— We have conſidered alſo an immoderate love of gain, and have ſeen diſhoneſty and fraud in a variety of ſhapes. But we have yet viewed them only as they relate to ſociety. We have viewed only the outward action. The rule before us, "We muſt not covet, nor deſire other men's goods," comes a ſtep nearer home, and conſiders the motive which governs the action.

[80]Covetouſneſs, or the love of money, is called in ſcripture "the root of all evil:" and it is called ſo for two rea⯑ſons; becauſe it makes us wicked, and becauſe it makes us miſerable.

Firſt, it makes us wicked. When it once gets poſſeſſion of the heart, it will let no good principle flouriſh near it. Moſt vices have their fits; and when the violence of the paſſion is ſpent, there is ſome interval of calm. The vicious appetite cannot always run riot. It is fatigued at leaſt by its own impetuoſity: and it is poſſible, that in this moment of tranquillity, a whiſper from virtue may be heard. But in ava⯑rice, there is rarely intermiſſion. It hangs, like a dead weight upon the ſoul, always pulling it to earth. We might as well expect to ſee a plant [81] grow upon a flint, as a virtue in the heart of a miſer.

It makes us miſerable as well as wic⯑ked. The cares and the fears of ava⯑rice are proverbial; and it muſt needs be that he, who depends for happineſs on what is liable to a thouſand acci⯑dents, muſt of courſe feel as many diſtreſſes, and almoſt as many diſap⯑pointments. The good man depends for happineſs on ſomething more per⯑manent; and if his worldly affairs go ill, his great dependance is ſtill left.^* But as wealth is the only god which the covetous man worſhips, (for "covet⯑ouſneſs," we are told, "is idolatry,") a diſappointment here, is a diſappoint⯑ment [82] indeed. Be he ever ſo proſpe⯑rous, his wealth cannot ſecure him a⯑gainſt the evils of mortality; againſt that time, when he muſt give up all he values; when his bargains of advantage will be over, and nothing left but tears and deſpair.

But even a deſiring frame of mind, tho it be not carried to ſuch a length, is always productive of miſery. It can⯑not be otherwiſe. While we ſuffer our⯑ſelves to be continually in queſt of what we have not, it is impoſſible that we ſhould be happy with what we have. In a word, to abridge our wants as much as poſſible, not to increaſe them, is the trueſt happineſs.

We are much miſtaken, however, if we think the man who hoards up his money, is the only covetous man. The [83] prodigal, though he differ in his end, may be as avaritious in his means.^* The former denies himſelf every comfort; the latter graſps at every pleaſure. Both characters are equally bad in different extremes. The miſer is more deteſt⯑able in the eyes of the world, becauſe he enters into none of its joys; but it is a queſtion, which is more wretched in himſelf, or more pernicious to ſo⯑ciety.

As covetouſneſs is eſteemed the vice of age, every appearance of it among young perſons ought particularly to be diſcouraged; becauſe, if it gets ground at this early period, nobody can tell how far it may not afterwards proceed. And yet, on the other ſide, there may [84] be great danger of encouraging the op⯑poſite extreme. As it is certainly right, under proper reſtrictions, both to ſave our money, and to ſpend it, it would be highly uſeful to fix the due bounds on each ſide. But nothing is more difficult than to raiſe theſe nice limits between extremes. Every man's caſe, in a thouſand circumſtances, differs from his neighbour's: and as no rule can be fixed for all; every man, of courſe, in theſe diſquiſitions, muſt be left to his own conſcience. We are all indeed very ready to give our opinions how others ought to act. We can adjuſt with great nicety, what is proper for them to do; and point out their miſtakes with much preciſion: while nothing is ne⯑ceſſary to us, but to act as properly as as we can ourſelves; obſerving as juſt a mean as poſſible between prodigality and avarice; and applying, in all our [85] difficulties, to the word of God, where theſe great land-marks of morality are the moſt accurately fixed.

We have now taken a view of what is prohibited in our commerce with mankind: let us next ſee what is in⯑joined. (We are ſtill proceeding with thoſe duties, which we owe to ourſelves.) Inſtead of ſpending our fortune there⯑fore in unlawful pleaſure, or increaſing it by unlawful gain; we are required "to learn, and labour truly (that is ho⯑neſtly) to get our own living, and to do our duty in that ſtate of life, unto which it ſhall pleaſe God to call us."—Theſe words will be ſufficiently explained by conſidering, firſt, that we all have ſome ſtation in life—ſome particular duties to diſcharge; and ſecondly, in what manner we ought to diſcharge them.

[86]Firſt, that man was not born to be idle, may be inferred from the active ſpirit, that appears in every part of na⯑ture. Every thing is alive; every thing contributes to the general good: even the very inanimate parts of the creation, plants, ſtones, metals, cannot be called totally inactive; but bear their part likewiſe in the general uſefulneſs. If then every part, even of inanimate na⯑ture, be thus employed, ſurely we can⯑not ſuppoſe it was the intention of the almighty father, that man, who is the moſt capable of employing himſelf pro⯑perly, ſhould be the only creature with⯑out employment.

Again, that man was born for active life, is plain from the neceſſity of la⯑bour. If it had not been neceſſary, God would not originally have impoſed it. But without it, the body would become [87] enervated, and the mind corrupted. Idle⯑neſs therefore is juſtly eſteemed the ori⯑gin, both of diſeaſe and vice. So that if labour, and employment, either of body, or mind, had no uſe, but what reſpected ourſelves, they would be highly proper: but they have farther uſe.

The neceſſity of them is plain, from the want that all men have of the aſſiſt⯑ance of others. If ſo, this aſſiſtance ſhould be mutual; every man ſhould contribute his part. We have already ſeen, that it is proper, there ſhould be different ſtations in the world,—that ſome ſhould be placed high in life, and others low. The loweſt, we know, cannot be exempt from labour; and the higheſt ought not: though their labour, according to their ſtation, will be of a different kind. Some, we ſee, "muſt la⯑bour [88] (as the catechiſm phraſes it) to get their own living; and others ſhould do their duty in that ſtate of life, whatever that ſtate is, unto which it hath pleaſed God to call them." All are aſſiſted: all ſhould aſſiſt. God diſtributes, we read, various talents among men; to ſome he gives five talents, to others two, and to others one: but it is ex⯑pected, we find, that notwithſtanding this inequality, each ſhould employ the talent that is given, to the beſt advan⯑tage: and he, who received five talents, was under the ſame obligation of im⯑proving them, as he who had received only one; and would, if he had hid his talents in the earth, have been puniſhed, in proportion to the abuſe. Every man, even in the higheſt ſtation, may find a proper employment, both for his time and fortune, if he pleaſe: and he may aſſure himſelf, that God, by placing [89] him in that ſtation, never meant to ex⯑empt him from the common obligations of ſociety, and give him a licence to ſpend his life in eaſe and pleaſure. God meant aſſuredly, that he ſhould bear his part in the general commerce of life,— that he ſhould conſider himſelf not as an individual, but as a member of the com⯑munity; the intereſts of which he is under an obligation to ſupport, with all his power;—and that his elevated ſta⯑tion gives him no other pre-eminence, than that of being the more extenſively uſeful.

Having thus ſeen, that we have all ſome ſtation in life to ſupport—ſome particular duties to diſcharge; let us now ſee in what manner we ought to diſ⯑charge them.

[90]We have an eaſy rule given us in ſcripture, on this head; that all our duties in life ſhould be performed "as to the Lord, and not unto man:" that is, we ſhould conſider our ſtations in life, as truſts repoſed in us by our maker; and as ſuch ſhould diſcharge the duties of them. What, though no worldly truſt be repoſed? What, though we are accountable to nobody upon earth? Can we therefore ſuppoſe ourſelves in reality leſs accountable? Can we ſup⯑poſe, that God, for no reaſon that we can divine, has ſingled us out, and given us a large proportion of the things of this world, (while others around us are in need), for no other purpoſe than to ſquander it away upon ourſelves? To God undoubtedly we are accountable for every bleſſing we enjoy. What mean, in ſcripture, the talents given, and the [91] uſe aſſigned; but the conſcientious diſ⯑charge of the duties of life, according to the advantages, with which they are attended?

It matters not whether theſe advan⯑tages be an inheritance, or an acquiſi⯑tion: ſtill they are the gift of God. Agreeably to their rank in life, it is true, all men ſhould live: human di⯑ſtinctions require it; and in doing this properly, every one around will be be⯑nefited. Utility ſhould be conſidered in all our expences. Even the very amuſements of a man of fortune ſhould be founded in it.

In ſhort, it is the conſtant injunction of ſcripture, in whatever ſtation we are placed, to conſider ourſelves as God's ſervants; and as acting immediately under his eye; not expecting our reward [92] among men; but from our great maſter who is in heaven. This ſanctifies, in a manner, all our actions: it places the little difficulties of our ſtation in the light of God's appointments; and turns the moſt common duties of life into acts of religion.

LECTURE XXI.

[95]WE have now gone through our duty to God, our neighbour, and ourſelves; and ſhould proceed, in the order pointed out in the catechiſm, to conſider the lord's prayer: but it will not, perhaps, be amiſs to ſtep a little aſide, and but a little, for the ſake of one leſſon on a ſubject, which to youth is very important; and without the obſervance of which, every ſtation will be attended with its peculiar dan⯑ger: the leſſon I mean reſpects the danger of keeping bad company.

"Evil communication, ſays the text, corrupts good manners." The aſſertion is general: and no doubt all people ſuffer from ſuch communication; but above all, the minds of youth will ſuf⯑fer; which are yet unformed, unprin⯑cipled, [96] unfurniſhed; and ready to re⯑ceive any impreſſion.

But before we conſider the danger of keeping bad company, let us firſt ſee the meaning of the phraſe.

In the phraſe of the world, good company means faſhionable people. Their ſtations in life, not their morals are conſidered: and he, who aſſociates with ſuch, though they ſet him the ex⯑ample of breaking every commandment of the decalogue, is ſtill ſaid to keep good company.—I ſhould wiſh you to fix another meaning to the expreſſion; and to conſider vice in the ſame deteſta⯑ble light, in whatever company it is found; nay, to conſider all company in which it is found, be their ſtation what it will, as bad company.

[97]The three following claſſes will per⯑haps include the greateſt part of thoſe, who deſerve this appellation.

In the firſt, I ſhould rank all who endeavour to deſtroy the principles of chriſtianity—who jeſt upon ſcripture— talk blaſphemy—and treat revelation with contempt.

A ſecond claſs of bad company are thoſe, who have a tendency to deſtroy in us the principles of common honeſty and integrity. Under this head, we may rank gameſters of every denomina⯑tion; and the low, and infamous cha⯑racters of every profeſſion.

A third claſs of bad company, and ſuch as are commonly moſt dangerous to youth, includes the long catalogue of men of pleaſure. In whatever way [98] they follow the call of appetite, they have equally a tendency to corrupt the purity of the mind.

Beſides theſe three claſſes, whom we may call bad company, there are others who come under the denomination of ill-choſen company: trifling, inſipid cha⯑racters of every kind; who follow no buſineſs—are led by no ideas of im⯑provement—but ſpend their time in diſſipation and folly—whoſe higheſt praiſe it is, that they are only not vi⯑cious.—With none of theſe, a ſerious man would wiſh his ſon to keep com⯑pany.

It may be aſked what is meant by keep⯑ing bad company? The world abounds with characters of this kind: they meet us in every place; and if we keep com⯑pany [99] at all, it is impoſſible to avoid keeping company with ſuch perſons.

It is true, if we were determined never to have any commerce with bad men, we muſt, as the apoſtle remarks, "altogether go out of the world." By keeping bad company, therefore is not meant a caſual intercourſe with them, on occaſion of buſineſs; or as they acci⯑dentally fall in our way; but having an inclination to conſort with them—com⯑plying with that inclination—ſeeking their company, when we might avoid it—entering into their parties—and mak⯑ing them the companions of our choice. Mixing with them occaſionally, cannot be avoided.

The danger of keeping bad company, ariſes principally from our aptneſs to imitate and catch the manners and ſen⯑timents [100] of others—from the power of cuſtom—from our own bad inclinations —and from the pains taken by the bad to corrupt us.^*

In our earlieſt youth, the contagion of manners is obſervable. In the boy, yet incapable of having any thing inſtilled into him, we eaſily diſcover from his firſt actions, and rude attempts at language, the kind of perſons, with whom he has been brought up: we ſee the early ſpring of a civilized education; or the firſt wild ſhoots of ruſticity.

As he enters farther into life, his be⯑haviour, manners, and converſation, all take their caſt from the company he keeps. Obſerve the peaſant, and the man of education; the difference is [101] ſtriking. And yet God hath beſtowed equal talents on each. The only diffe⯑rence is, they have been thrown into different ſcenes of life; and have had commerce with perſons of different ſtations.

Nor are manners and behaviour more eaſily caught; than opinions, and prin⯑ciples. In childhood and youth, we naturally adopt the ſentiments of thoſe about us. And as we advance in life, how few of us think for ourſelves? How many of us are ſatisfied with tak⯑ing our opinions at ſecond hand?

The great power, and force of cuſtom forms another argument againſt keeping bad company. However ſeriouſly diſ⯑poſed we may be; and however ſhocked at the firſt approaches of vice; this ſhocking appearance goes off, upon an [102] intimacy with it. Cuſtom will ſoon render the moſt diſguſtful thing fami⯑liar. And this is indeed a kind provi⯑ſion of nature, to render labour, and toil, and danger, which are the lot of man, more eaſy to him. The raw ſol⯑dier, who trembles at the firſt encoun⯑ter, becomes a hardy veteran in a few campaigns. Habit renders danger fa⯑miliar, and of courſe indifferent to him.

But habit, which is intended for our good, may, like other kind appoint⯑ments of nature, be converted into a miſchief. The well-diſpoſed youth, en⯑tering firſt into bad company, is ſhocked at what he hears, and what he ſees. The good principles, which he had im⯑bibed, ring in his ears an alarming leſſon againſt the wickedneſs of his com⯑panions. But, alas! this ſenſibility is but of a day's continuance. The next [103] jovial meeting makes the horrid pic⯑ture of yeſterday more eaſily endured. Virtue is ſoon thought a ſevere rule; the goſpel, an inconvenient reſtraint: a few pangs of conſcience now and then interrupt his pleaſures; and whiſper to him, that he once had better thoughts: but even theſe by degrees die away; and he who at firſt was ſhocked even at the appearance of vice, is formed by cuſtom, into a profligate leader of vi⯑cious pleaſures—perhaps into an aban⯑doned tempter to vice.—So carefully ſhould we oppoſe the firſt approaches of ſin! ſo vigilant ſhould we be againſt ſo inſidious an enemy!

Our own bad inclinations form ano⯑ther argument againſt bad company. We have ſo many paſſions and appetites to govern; ſo many bad propenſities of different kinds to watch, that, amidſt [104] ſuch a variety of enemies within, we ought at leaſt to be on our guard againſt thoſe without. The breaſt even of a good man is repreſented in ſcripture, and experienced in fact, to be in a ſtate of warfare. His vicious inclinations are continually drawing him one way; while his virtue is making efforts ano⯑ther. And if the ſcriptures repreſent this as the caſe even of a good man, whoſe paſſions, it may be imagined, are be⯑come in ſome degree cool, and temperate, and who has made ſome progreſs in a virtuous courſe; what may we ſuppoſe to be the danger of a raw unexperienced youth, whoſe paſſions and appetites are violent and ſeducing, and whoſe mind is in a ſtill leſs confirmed ſtate? It is his part ſurely to keep out of the way of temptation; and to give his bad in⯑clinations as little room as poſſible, to acquire new ſtrength.

LECTURE XXII.

[107]THESE arguments againſt keeping bad company, will ſtill receive additional ſtrength; if we conſider far⯑ther, the great pains taken by the bad to corrupt others. It is a very true, but lamentable fact, in the hiſtory of human nature, that bad men take more pains to corrupt their own ſpecies, than virtuous men do to reform them. Hence thoſe ſpecious arts, that ſhow of friend⯑ſhip, that appearance of diſintereſtneſs, with which the profligate ſeducer en⯑deavours to lure the unwary youth; and at the ſame time, yielding to his incli⯑nations, ſeems to follow rather than to lead him. Many are the arts of theſe corrupters; but their principal art is ridicule. By this they endeavour to laugh out of countenance all the better principles of their wavering proſelyte; and make him think contemptibly of [108] thoſe, whom he formerly reſpected: by this they ſtifle the ingenuous bluſh; and finally deſtroy all ſenſe of ſhame. Their cauſe is below argument. They aim not therefore at reaſoning. Raillery is the weapon they employ; and who is there, that hath the ſteadineſs to hear perſons and things, whatever reverence he may have had for them, the ſubject of continual ridicule, without loſing that reverence by degrees?

Having thus conſidered what prin⯑cipally makes bad company dangerous, I ſhall juſt add, that even were your morals in no danger from ſuch inter⯑courſe, your characters would infallibly ſuffer. The world will always judge of you by your companions: and no⯑body will ſuppoſe, that a youth of virtuous principles himſelf, can poſſibly form a connection with a profligate.

[109]In reply to the danger ſuppoſed to ariſe from bad company, perhaps the youth may ſay, he is ſo firm in his own opinions, ſo ſteady in his principles, that he thinks himſelf ſecure; and need not reſtrain himſelf from the moſt un⯑reſerved converſation.

Alas! this ſecurity is the very brink of the precipice: nor hath vice in her whole train a more dangerous enemy to you, than preſumption. Caution, ever awake to danger, is a guard againſt it. But ſecurity lays every guard aſleep. "Let him who thinketh, he ſtandeth," ſaith the apoſtle, "take heed, leſt he fall." Even an apoſtle himſelf did fall, by thinking, that he ſtood ſecure. "Though I ſhould die with thee," ſaid St. Peter to his maſter, "yet will I not deny thee." That very night, notwith⯑ſtanding this boaſted ſecurity, he re⯑peated [110] the crime three ſeveral times. And can we ſuppoſe, that preſumption, which occaſioned an apoſtle's fall, ſhall not ruin an unexperienced youth? The ſtory is recorded for our inſtruction; and ſhould be a ſtanding leſſon againſt preſuming upon our own ſtrength.

In concluſion, ſuch as the dangers are, which ariſe from bad company, ſuch are the advantages, which accrue from good. We imitate, and catch the manners, and ſentiments of good men, as we do of bad. Cuſtom, which ren⯑ders vice leſs a deformity, renders vir⯑tue more lovely. Good examples have a force beyond inſtruction, and warm us into emulation beyond precept: while the countenance and converſation of virtuous men encourage, and draw out into action every kindred diſpoſition of our hearts.

[111]Beſides, as a ſenſe of ſhame often prevents our doing a right thing in bad company; it operates in the ſame way in preventing our doing a wrong one in good. Our character becomes a pledge; and we cannot, without a kind of diſ⯑honour, draw back.

It is not poſſible, indeed, for a youth, yet unfurniſhed with knowledge, (which fits him for good company) to chuſe his companions as he pleaſes. A youth muſt have ſomething peculiarly attrac⯑tive, to qualify him for the acquain⯑tance of men of eſtabliſhed reputation. What he has to do, is, at all events, to avoid bad company; and to endea⯑vour, by improving his mind and mo⯑rals, to qualify himſelf for the beſt.

Happy is that youth, who, upon his entrance into the world, can chuſe [112] his company with diſcretion. There is often in vice, a gayety, an unreſerve, a freedom of manners, which are apt at ſight to engage the unwary: while vir⯑tue, on the other hand, is often modeſt, reſerved, diffident, backward, and eaſily diſconcerted. That freedom of man⯑ners, however engaging, may cover a very corrupt heart: and this awkward⯑neſs, however unpleaſing, may veil a thouſand virtues. Suffer not your mind therefore, to be eaſily either engaged, or diſguſted at firſt ſight. Form your inti⯑macies with reſerve: and if drawn un⯑awares into an acquaintance you diſap⯑prove, immediately retreat. Open not your hearts to every profeſſion of friend⯑ſhip. They, whoſe friendſhip is worth accepting, are, as you ought to be, reſerved in offering it. Chuſe your companions, not merely for the ſake of a few outward accompliſhments—for [113] the idle pleaſure of ſpending an agree⯑able hour; but mark their diſpoſition to virtue or vice; and, as much as poſ⯑ſible, chuſe thoſe for your companions, whom you ſee others reſpect: always re⯑membering, that upon the choice of your company depends in a great mea⯑ſure, the ſucceſs of all you have learned; the hopes of your friends; your future characters in life; and, what you ought above all other things to value, the pu⯑rity of your hearts.

LECTURE XXIII.

[117]BEFORE we enter upon the lord's prayer, which falls next under our examination, it may be proper to con⯑ſider prayer in general—the object, the advantages, and the qualifications of it; together with ſome of the moſt popular objections, which are made to it.

When we conſider the infinite diſtance between God and man—between that being, whom the heaven of heavens can⯑not contain; and man, with all the weakneſſes of mortality about him; it may at firſt appear matter of aſtoniſh⯑ment, that we are allowed any commu⯑nication with ſo great a being. The diſtinctions, which worldly policy, and worldly pride, make among mankind, —among creatures of the ſame rank, cannot but raiſe our ideas ſtill higher of the goodneſs of God! When we ſee [118] man treating his fellow-creatures with petulance, and diſdain, upon the vile diſtinctions of ſtation, family, and for⯑tune; what a leſſon to us is the good⯑neſs of God! Merciful, mild, and condeſcending to our weakneſſes, he liſtens to, and grants, the petitions of his meaneſt creatures.

The firſt great object of prayer is the praiſe of God. The works of crea⯑tion naturally raiſe it: and the good⯑neſs of God, in continuing to us that being, which we cannot ourſelves pre⯑ſerve; and the comforts which we can⯑not ourſelves procure; brings it home to our feelings. It is a duty, which every rational creature owes to his crea⯑tor. It is alſo one of the beſt ſources of our happineſs. Simple praiſe, which conſiſts merely in extolling excellence, is a pleaſing theme. But when it is [119] excited by gratitude, it flows with ſtill greater pleaſure. Gratitude has a ten⯑dency to improve that happy diſpoſition of mind, which feels every enjoyment that it poſſeſſes.

A ſecond object of prayer is, to ſo⯑licit the pardon of our ſins. God not only permits, but even injoins us to to do it: and he has appointed penitent prayer, as one of the means of obtaining pardon. It muſt ever be accompanied by confeſſion; as confeſſing a fault is one of the firſt ſteps towards amending it. In this humiliating employment, we have not only to deplore our own ſinfulneſs; but the loſt condition of human nature. Without being truly ſenſible of this, we can neither acknow⯑ledge the means, which God hath uſed to obviate it; nor be grateful for them.

[120]After thanking God for his paſt goodneſs, and endeavouring to make ourſelves as worthy as we can of fu⯑ture favours; it is the next object of prayer, to petition a ſupply of our wants. Among them the principal is, that of the aſſiſtance of God's holy ſpi⯑rit. It is the conſtant doctrine of ſcrip⯑ture, that, however neceſſary our own endeavours are, to make us virtuous; they are not ſufficient alone to do it. Our own feelings and imperfections, in a thouſand inſtances, muſt convince us that this is the caſe. To counteract the depravity of nature, God hath pro⯑miſed us the divine aſſiſtance of his holy ſpirit: and earneſt prayer is the means he hath appointed for the attain⯑ment of that end. We are permitted alſo to pray for our temporal wants. This is indeed the niceſt and moſt de⯑licate part of prayer. Too thankful [121] for paſt mercies we cannot be: too earneſt in ſoliciting the pardon of our ſins, and God's ſpiritual aſſiſtance, we cannot be: but ſo ſhort ſighted are we, that in begging a ſupply of our temporal wants, we may eaſily err. But on theſe heads, I ſhall be more full, in the explanation of the Lord's prayer.

Beſides praiſing God for his mercies; aſking pardon for our ſins; and beg⯑ing a ſupply of our wants, which are the primary objects of prayer; there are other great advantages, which are cloſely connected with it.

Of theſe the firſt, is to preſerve in our minds a ſenſe of God, and of our de⯑pendence upon him. When we praiſe God, we are naturally impreſſed with an idea of his perfections; and when we beg the forgiveneſs of our ſins, and a [122] ſupply of our wants; we are as naturally reminded, that we are weak and ſinful creatures: that we are continually un⯑der the eye of an all-powerful Being; and are in hourly need of his protection, and favour. And if our prayers be conſtant, uniform, and fervent; theſe great truths will be impreſſed upon our minds, and become the leading princi⯑ples of our lives.

Prayer is calculated alſo to impreſs us with a ſenſe of our duty; and to keep us ſteady in the practice of it. A virtuous wiſh is a ſtep towards virtue. A fervent prayer is ſtill a nearer ad⯑vance. To pray ardently for an in⯑creaſe of virtue, even in a natural way, muſt increaſe it: and to pray frequently, muſt tend to preſerve it. Indeed, in the whole circle of chriſtian duties, perhaps there is not one, which has a [123] greater effect in forming the heart, than rational devotion.

After the advantages of prayer, let us conſider the qualifications of it: or, what concomitant circumſtances are ne⯑ceſſary to make it an acceptable ſervice to God. It ſhould be founded in faith; and accompanied with humility, ſin⯑cerity, reſolutions of amendment, and charity. It ſhould alſo be offered up in the name, and through the merits of Chriſt.

It ſhould firſt be founded in faith. It is obvious to common ſenſe, that "he who cometh to God, muſt believe that he is; and that he is a rewarder of them, who diligently ſeek him:" other⯑wiſe, why ſhould we come to him at all? We ought therefore to truſt his promiſes, and put up our prayers in the [124] full aſſurance of being heard. Even men, when their word is plighted, expect this confidence. And ſhall we ap⯑proach God with leſs confidence, than we do man?

Secondly, our prayers muſt be ac⯑companied with humility. Humility is expected, even when we aſk a favour of our fellow-creatures. What humi⯑liation then is due to God, from whom we have every thing to aſk; and be⯑fore whom we have not the ſmalleſt merits to plead? An humble heart is in itſelf a pleaſing ſacrifice to God. The humility of the publican was half his prayer.

They ſhould be accompanied alſo with ſincerity. Mere lip-ſervice can never pleaſe God. It is a mockery of him. Indeed, if our minds are thorough⯑ly [125] impreſſed with a ſenſe of God's pow⯑er and goodneſs; and of our own weak⯑neſs and dependence; our prayers will of courſe be ſincere: we ſhall find it leſs difficult to check the idle wander⯑ings of our thoughts: we ſhall confeſs our ſins with an heartfelt contrition; and praiſe God with unfeigned thank⯑fulneſs. I ſhall juſt add, that as we ſhould guard, on one hand, againſt an unanimate coldneſs, and inſenſibility; ſo ought we, on the other, to avoid all irrational fervour, in our devotions. The effuſions of a heated imagination, cannot be a pleaſing ſacrifice to an all-wiſe God.

But ſincere prayer is of little value in the ſight of God, if it be not accom⯑panied with ſteady reſolutions of a⯑mendment. If the heart be not im⯑proved, devotion is dead. Its fruit is [126] loſt. To implore pardon for our ſins, and not endeavour to avoid them; is ſhewing ourſelves to be juſt ſo much in earneſt, as to own we are in the wrong; without attempting to get right.

One thing more is neceſſary to make our devotions acceptable to God; they ſhould be offered up in the ſpirit of charity. He who begs forgiveneſs at God's hands, in an unforgiving temper, may as well omit his prayers. He had better omit them. To his uncharitable temper, he only adds a new offence— that of an unworthy prayer. It is the conſtant language of ſcripture, that "with the ſame meaſure with which we mete, it ſhall be meaſured to us again. Give, and it ſhall be given unto you. Forgive, and ye ſhall be forgiven."

[127]But no human qualifications alone can carry up our prayers to the throne of grace. We muſt have other merits, beſides our own, to make them accep⯑table in the ſight of God—the all-ſuffi⯑cient merits of our bleſſed Redeemer. He is the great mediator between God and man. A holy life makes his me⯑rits, ours. All our prayers therefore ſhould be offered up in his name, and through his moſt powerful mediation.

But in the Lord's prayer, no mention is made of the merits of Chriſt.

It is true; nor could there. When that prayer was compoſed, the great atonement was not made. How could it then be pleaded? But we are told, it ought to be pleaded, as ſoon as it was made. "Hitherto," ſaid our Saviour to his diſciples, a little before his paſſion, [128] "have ye aſked nothing in my name: but whatſoever you ſhall aſk the Father in my name, he will give it you."

When all theſe qualifications are u⯑nited; when our prayers are founded in faith—when they are accompanied with humility, ſincerity, reſolutions of amendment, and charity—and laſtly, when they are offered up in the name, and through the merits of Chriſt; we may aſſure ourſelves, that they will be acceptable in the ſight of God.

I ſhall juſt add, on this ſubject, that beſides formal prayers, either public or private, a devout mind will find many opportunities of exerciſing itſelf, in the midſt even of buſineſs and pleaſure. An ejaculation of praiſe, a ſingle petition, raiſed from the heart, in one devout thought, unaccompanied by any exter⯑nal [129] act, will unqueſtionably find its way to heaven. This is literally having God in all our thoughts; and making our lives a continual prayer.

As reaſonable a duty, however, as prayer is, objections have been made to it.

Praiſe, it hath been ſaid, is an abſurd homage: as if the Almighty Father could be pleaſed with the empty praiſes of a poor inſignificant race of creatures. We are to do all, it ſeems, to the glory of God. What glory can God receive from our doings? Doth his name in any reſpect depend upon the breath of man?

To this objection we anſwer, that if the real exaltation of God's glory, or if any addition to his happineſs, be ſup⯑poſed [130] to be the intention of praiſe; the idea indeed were very abſurd. But certainly with regard to man; no em⯑ployment can be more adapted to his nature, or in itſelf more rational, than to praiſe his creator. It reminds him of all thoſe great attributes, which, as he praiſes them, he learns to imitate. It reminds him of that infinite wiſdom and power, on which he ought always to depend. It reminds him of that ten⯑derneſs, and indulgence, which he has ſo often experienced, and which he ought ever to praiſe.

When we are ordered therefore to do every thing for the glory of God, the expreſſion is merely adapted to common acceptation; and alludes to the glory of earthly princes, which good ſubjects advance by obeying the laws. The higheſt glory therefore, according to [131] our ideas, which God can receive from his creatures, ariſes from their obe⯑dience to his commands.

But it is abſurd, replies the objector, to inform God of our wants: nay ſuch information amounts almoſt to a denial of his omniſcience.

Undoubtedly, if it were the intention of the petitioner to inform God; but this never enters into the idea of a prayer. God hath injoined us to pray for a ſupply of our wants, as a mean of receiving it. In what manner prayer is efficacious to this purpoſe, it is not for us to inquire. One thing is very ob⯑vious, that dependant creatures ought always to be reminded of their depend⯑ent ſtate; and of that Being, from whoſe bounty they receive every thing they enjoy. And nothing ſurely can [132] be better calculated than prayer, to pro⯑mote this wiſe end.

But is not prayer an abſurd attempt to alter the ſtated courſe of things? And is it not high preſumption to ima⯑gine, that God will alter it for the ſake of our petitions?

The objection is founded in igno⯑rance. Do we know what is the ſtated courſe of things? Do we know whe⯑ther there even exiſts what the objector calls a ſtated courſe? Or whether God may not reſerve all events, as far as free agents are concerned, in a mutable con⯑dition, dependant on circumſtances.

In whatever way our prayers are ef⯑ficacious, it is not our part to inquire. We have the Almighty's expreſs com⯑mand for this intercourſe with him; and [133] therefore we ought with thankfulneſs to comply. He who gave the command, knows beſt how to make the compliance with it effectual.

LECTURE XXIV.

[137]HAVING thus conſidered prayer in general, let us now conſider the Lord's prayer.

This prayer was compoſed by our Saviour, upon a requeſt which his diſ⯑ciples made him; to "teach them to pray, as John taught his diſciples." Much of the ſubſtance of it is ſuppoſed to have been taken from the Jewiſh forms, then in uſe; from which our Saviour, as it appears, ſelecting proper parts, adapted them to his own pur⯑poſe. This mode of compoſing a prayer was agreeable to his uſual practice; which was to give as little offence as poſſible to the prejudices of men. In forming a prayer, therefore, he choſe rather to take in part what he found already eſtabliſhed, than to compoſe one entirely anew.

[138]This prayer was not only intended as a form of prayer in itſelf, but alſo as a model to ſhew us how to faſhion our prayers. We have the great lines of rational devotion marked out; to which we may adapt our own exigencies. This ſeems implied in the introduction; "After this manner pray ye." As if our Saviour had ſaid, The preciſe form of words here given you, needs not al⯑ways be adhered to: but let it be your general direction.

The Lord's prayer ſeems to admit an eaſy diviſion into five parts.

The firſt contains an invocation of praiſe: "Our Father, which art in heaven."

The ſecond contains a petition for the general good of mankind; "Hal⯑lowed [139] be thy name; thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven."

The third part contains a petition for temporal bleſſings: "Give us this day our daily bread."

The fourth, for ſpiritual: "And for⯑give us our treſpaſſes, as we forgive them that treſpaſs againſt us; and lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil."

The fifth concludes with a profeſſion of our faith. "For thine is the king⯑dom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever."

LECTURE XXV.

LECTURE XXVII.

[163]WE have now conſidered the great duties of faith and obedience; in which conſiſts the ſum of religion. Theſe we commonly call morally right, or right in their own nature.

Beſides theſe, there is another ſpecies of duties, which are called poſitive. In their own nature they are indifferent; but are rendered binding, only as they are appointed by divine authority.

The Jews were burdened with a hea⯑vy load of theſe poſitive duties. One may almoſt ſay, the ſpirit of the Moſaic law conſiſted in them. In ceremonies alſo conſiſted entirely the religion of the heathens. All they knew indeed of re⯑ligion was a burthenſome ritual, made up of external acts, which had no refe⯑rence to life, and manners.

[164]Never was any ſyſtem of religion ſo free from the burden of ceremonies as chriſtianity; never was any religion ſo purely addreſſed to the heart. The two ſacraments, of baptiſm, and the Lord's ſupper, are the only ceremonies ordain⯑ed by Chriſt; both certainly very ap⯑poſite—baptiſm, as an outward teſtimo⯑ny of our entrance into the chriſtian religion; and the Lord's ſupper, as an outward teſtimony of our continuance in it. The former, of courſe, is ad⯑miniſtred only once; the latter, fre⯑quently.

The ſhort account of the ſacraments, contained in the catechiſm, conſiders three points; the nature of a ſacrament in general—the nature of the ſacrament of baptiſm — and the nature of the Lord's ſupper.

[165]With regard to the nature of a ſacra⯑ment in general, it is firſt aſked, how many ſacraments Chriſt hath ordained?

The anſwer is, Two only, as gene⯑rally neceſſary to ſalvation; viz. baptiſm, and the ſupper of the Lord.

This queſtion points chiefly at the papiſts, who hold ſeven ſacraments— baptiſm, the Lord's ſupper, confirma⯑tion, matrimony, penance, orders, and extreme unction. Now as the word ſacrament is no where defined in ſcrip⯑ture; we have no objection to a dozen ſacraments, inſtead of ſeven, if the pa⯑piſts chuſe it: all we contend for, is, that none of them ſhould be placed upon an equal footing with baptiſm and the Lord's ſupper; which, accor⯑ding to our definition of a ſacrament, [166] are the only two that are ordained by Chriſt.

The word ſacrament originally im⯑plied the oath which ſoldiers took to their leader; and under this idea it was firſt adopted into the language of reli⯑gion. But its meaning, in the earlier ages, was very indefinite: and we find it uſed among the writers of the firſt centuries, to expreſs any thing myſte⯑rious in religion. By degrees, it ob⯑tained a cloſer acceptation; and among proteſtants was, at length, confined merely to baptiſm, and the Lord's ſup⯑per. However, ſtill unfortunately, the old idea of a myſtery in ſome degree cleaves to it; and has been of prejudice to one of theſe rites eſpecially; which in itſelf ſeems to be as ſimple, as it is ſig⯑nificant.

[167]We define a ſacrament to be an out⯑ward, and viſible ſign of an inward and ſpiritual grace; ordained by Chriſt him⯑ſelf as a means, whereby we receive the ſame, and a pledge to aſſure us there⯑of.

In a ſacrament, there muſt firſt be an outward, viſible ſign of an inward and ſpiritual grace; that is, a ſenſible repre⯑ſentation of ſome benefit received.

A ſacrament muſt, ſecondly, be diſ⯑tinguiſhed from other ceremonies, by being ordained by Chriſt. Common ceremonies the church may decree, and abrogate at pleaſure. They are uſeful merely for the ſake of order; and un⯑der different circumſtances, different ceremonies may take place. But a ſa⯑crament, as ordained by Chriſt, is of perpetual obligation.

[168]Laſtly, a ſacrament is a means where⯑by we receive the grace of God, and a pledge to aſſure us thereof.—The go⯑ſpel, we know, is a gracious covenant between God and man. On our part, the conditions are faith, and obedience. On God's part, the forgiveneſs of our ſins, and eternal life. Now the ſacra⯑ments of baptiſm, and the Lord's ſup⯑per, are the appointed means, whereby we receive, or declare our acceptance of theſe conditions; and our reſolution of obſerving them. And on God's part, they are a kind of pledge, and ſecurity, that theſe gracious conditions ſhall be performed. Seals, and ſignatures, are viſible ſigns, which have in all ages been thought neceſſary in the execution of a covenant: they are neceſſary to re⯑duce into a formal act, what would otherwiſe be only an intention of the mind. In conformity to human ideas, [169] God thought fit to appoint circumciſion, as a ratification of the Jewiſh covenant. St. Paul mentions it under the idea of a ^* ſeal, by which that covenant was confirmed.—Under the ſame idea, the two ſacraments were appointed; and may be conſidered, on God's part, as his ſeals to the covenant of grace: or, (as it is here phraſed) pledges to aſſure us thereof.

A ſacrament, in general, being thus defined, the ſacrament of baptiſm is next conſidered; in which, if we conſi⯑der the inward grace, we ſhall ſee how aptly the ſign repreſents it.—The in⯑ward grace, or thing ſignified, we are told, is "a death unto ſin, and a new birth unto righteouſneſs:" by which is [170] meant that great renovation of nature, that purity of heart, which the chriſtian religion is intended to produce. And ſurely there cannot be a more ſignifi⯑cant ſign of this than water, on account of its cleanſing nature. As water re⯑freſhes the body, and purifies it from all contracted filth; it aptly repreſents that renovation of nature, which clean⯑ſes the ſoul from the impurities of ſin. Water indeed, among the ancients, was more adapted to the thing ſignified, than it is at preſent among us. They uſed immerſion in baptiſing: ſo that the child being dipped into the water, and raiſed out again; baptiſm with them was more ſignificant of a new birth un⯑to righteouſneſs. But though we, in theſe colder climates, think immerſion an unſafe practice; yet the original meaning is ſtill ſuppoſed.

[171]It is next aſked, What is required of thoſe who are baptiſed? To this we anſwer, "Repentance, whereby they forſake ſin; and faith, whereby they ſtedfaſtly believe the promiſes of God, made to them in that ſacrament."

The primitive church was extremely ſtrict on this head. In thoſe times, be⯑fore chriſtianity was eſtabliſhed, when adults offered themſelves to baptiſm, no one was admitted, till he had given a very ſatisfactory evidence of his repen⯑tance; and till, on good grounds, he could profeſs his faith in Chriſt: and it was afterwards expected from him, that he ſhould prove his faith, and repen⯑tance, by a regular obedience, during the future part of his life.

If faith, and repentance, are expect⯑ed at baptiſm; it is a very natural queſ⯑tion, [172] Why then are infants baptiſed, when, by reaſon of their tender age, they can give no evidence of either?

Whether infants ſhould be admitted to baptiſm, or whether that ſacrament ſhould be deferred till years of diſcre⯑tion; is a queſtion in the chriſtian church, which hath been agitated with ſome animoſity. Our church by no means looks upon baptiſm as neceſſary to the infant's ſalvation.^* No man ac⯑quainted with the ſpirit of chriſtianity, can conceive, that God will leave the ſalvation of ſo many innocent ſouls in [173] the hands of others. But the practice is conſidered as founded upon the uſage of the earlieſt times: and the church obſerving, that circumciſion was the in⯑troductory rite to the jewiſh covenant; and that baptiſm was intended to ſuc⯑ceed circumciſion; it naturally ſuppo⯑ſes, that baptiſm ſhould be adminiſtred to infants, as circumciſion was. The church, however, in this caſe, hath provided ſponſors; who make a profeſ⯑ſion of obedience in the child's name. But the nature and office of this proxy hath been already examined, under the head of our baptiſmal vow.

LECTURE XXVIII.

[177]HAVING thus conſidered the ſa⯑crament of baptiſm, the cate⯑chiſm proceeds laſtly to the ſacrament of the Lord's ſupper.

The firſt queſtion is an inquiry into the original of the inſtitution: "Why was the ſacrament of the Lord's ſupper ordained?"

It was ordained, we are informed,— "for the continual remembrance of the ſacrifice of the death of Chriſt; and of the benefits which we receive thereby."

In examining a ſacrament in general, we have already ſeen, that both bap⯑tiſm, and the Lord's ſupper, were ori⯑ginally inſtituted as the "means of re⯑ceiving the grace of God; and as pledges to aſſure us thereof."

[178]But beſides theſe primary ends, they have each a ſecondary one; in repre⯑ſenting the two moſt important truths of religion; which gives them more force, and influence. Baptiſm, we have ſeen, repreſents that renovation of our ſinful nature, which the goſpel was in⯑tended to introduce: and the peculiar end, which the Lord's ſupper had in view, was the ſacrifice of the death of Chriſt; with all the benefits which ariſe from it—the remiſſion of our ſins—and the reconciliation of the world to God. "This do," ſaid our Saviour, (allud⯑ing to the paſſover, which the Lord's ſupper was deſigned to ſuperſede) not as hitherto, in memory of your deliver⯑ance from Egypt; but in memory of that greater deliverance, of which the other was only a type: "Do it in re⯑membrance of me."

[179]The outward part, or ſign of the Lord's ſupper, is "bread and wine"— the things ſignified are the "body and blood of Chriſt."—In examining the ſacrament of baptiſm, I endeavoured to ſhew, how very apt a ſymbol water is in that ceremony. Bread and wine alſo are ſymbols equally apt in repre⯑ſenting the body and blood of Chriſt: and in the uſe of theſe particular ſym⯑bols, it is reaſonable to ſuppoſe, that our Saviour had an eye to the Jewiſh paſſover; in which it was a cuſtom to drink wine, and to eat bread. He might have inſtituted any other apt ſymbols for the ſame purpoſe; but it was his uſual practice, through the whole ſyſtem of his inſtitution, to make it, in every part, as familiar as poſſi⯑ble: and for this reaſon he ſeems to have choſen ſuch ſymbols as were then in uſe; that he might give as little of⯑fence, [180] as poſſible, in a matter of indif⯑ference.

As our Saviour, in the inſtitution of his ſupper, ordered both the bread and the wine to be received; it is certainly a great error in papiſts, to deny the cup to the laity. They ſay indeed, that, as both fleſh and blood are united in the ſubſtance of the human body; ſo are they in the ſacramental bread; which, according to them, is changed, or, as they phraſe it, tranſubſtantiated into the real body of Chriſt. If they have no other reaſon, why do they ad⯑miniſter wine to the clergy? The cler⯑gy might participate equally of both in the bread.—But the plain truth is, they are deſirous, by this invention, to add an air of myſtery to the ſacrament, and a ſuperſtitious reverence to the prieſt; as if he, being endowed with ſome pe⯑culiar [181] holineſs, might be allowed the uſe of both.

There is a difficulty in this part of the catechiſm, which ſhould not be paſſed over. We are told, that "the body and blood of Chriſt are verily, and indeed taken, and received by the faithful in the Lord's ſupper." This expreſſion ſounds very like the popiſh doctrine, juſt mentioned, of tranſub⯑ſtantiation. The true ſenſe of the words undoubtedly is, that the faithful be⯑liever only, verily and indeed receives the benefit of the ſacrament: but the expreſſion muſt be allowed to be inac⯑curate, as it is capable of an interpre⯑tation ſo entirely oppoſite to that which the church of England hath always profeſſed.—I would not willingly ſup⯑poſe, as ſome have done, that the com⯑pilers of the catechiſm meant to manage [182] the affair of tranſubſtantiation with the papiſts. It is one thing to ſhew a libe⯑rality of ſentiment in matters of indif⯑ference; and another to ſpeak timidly, and ambiguouſly, where eſſentials are concerned.

It is next aſked, What benefits we receive from the Lord's ſupper? To which it is anſwered, "The ſtrength⯑ening and refreſhing of our ſouls by the body and blood of Chriſt, as our bodies are by the bread and wine." As our bodies are ſtrengthened and refreſh⯑ed, in a natural way, by bread and wine; ſo ſhould our ſouls be, in a ſpi⯑ritual way, by a devout commemoration of the paſſion of Chriſt. By gratefully remembering what he ſuffered for us, we ſhould be excited to a greater ab⯑horrence of ſin, which was the cauſe of his ſufferings. Every time we partake [183] of this ſacrament, like faithful ſoldiers, we take a freſh oath to our leader; and ſhould be animated anew, by his ex⯑ample, to perſevere in the ſpiritual con⯑flict, in which, under him, we are en⯑gaged.

It is laſtly aſked, "What is required of them, who come to the Lord's ſup⯑per?" To which we anſwer, "That we ſhould examine ourſelves, whether we repent us truly of our former ſins— ſtedfaſtly purpoſing to lead a new life— have a lively faith in God's mercy through Chriſt—with a thankful re⯑membrance of his death; and to be in charity with all men."

That pious frame of mind is here, in very few words, pointed out; which a Chriſtian ought to cheriſh, and culti⯑vate in himſelf at all times; but eſpe⯑cially, [184] upon the performance of any ſolemn act of religion. Very little in⯑deed is ſaid in ſcripture, of any particu⯑lar frame of mind, which ſhould accom⯑pany the performance of this duty; but it may eaſily be inferred from the nature of the duty itſelf.

In the firſt place, "we ſhould repent us truly of our former ſins; ſtedfaſtly purpoſing to lead a new life." He who performs a religious exerciſe, without being earneſt in this point; adds only a phariſaical hypocricy to his other ſins. Unleſs he ſeriouſly reſolve to lead a good life, he had better be all of a piece; and not pretend, by receiving the ſacrament, to a piety which he does not feel.

Theſe "ſtedfaſt purpoſes of leading a new life," form a very becoming ex⯑erciſe [185] to chriſtians. The lives even of the beſt of men afford only a mortify⯑ing retroſpect. Though they may have conquered ſome of their worſt propen⯑ſities; yet the triumphs of ſin over them, at the various periods of their lives, will always be remembered with ſor⯑row; and may always be remembered with advantage; keeping them on their guard for the future, and ſtrengthening them more and more in all their good reſolutions of obedience.—And when can theſe meditions ariſe more properly, than when we are performing a rite, inſtituted on purpoſe to commemorate the great atonement for ſin?

To our repentance, and reſolutions of obedience, we are required to add "a lively faith in God's mercy through Chriſt; with a thankful remembrance of his death." We ſhould impreſs our⯑ſelves [186] with the deepeſt ſenſe of humility —totally rejecting every idea of our own merit—hoping for God's favour only through the merits of our great Redeemer—and with hearts full of gra⯑titude, truſting only to his all-ſufficient ſacrifice.

Laſtly, we are required, at the cele⯑bration of this great rite, to be "in charity with all men." It commemo⯑rates the greateſt inſtance of love that can be conceived; and ſhould therefore raiſe in us correſpondent affections. It ſhould excite in us that conſtant flow of benevolence, in which the ſpirit of religion conſiſts; and without which indeed we can have no religion at all. Love is the very diſtinguiſhing badge of chriſtianity: "By this," ſaid our great Maſter, "ſhall all men know that ye are my diſciples."

[187]One ſpecies of charity ſhould, at this time, never be forgotten; and that is, the forgiveneſs of others. No ac⯑ceptable gift can be offered at this al⯑tar, but in the ſpirit of reconciliation. —Hence it was, that the ancient chriſ⯑tians inſtituted, at the celebration of the Lord's ſupper, what they called love-feaſts. They thought, they could not give a better inſtance of their being in perfect charity with each other; than by joining, all ranks together, in one common meal.—By degrees, in⯑deed, this well-meant cuſtom degene⯑rated; and it may not be amiſs to ob⯑ſerve here, that the paſſages ^* in which theſe enormities are rebuked, have been variouſly miſconſtrued; and have fright⯑ened many well-meaning perſons from the ſacrament. Whereas what the a⯑poſtle here ſays, hath no other relation [188] to this rite, than as it was attended by a particular abuſe in receiving it: and as this is a mode of abuſe, which doth not now exiſt; the apoſtle's reproof ſeems not to affect the chriſtians of this age.

What the ^* primary, and what the ^† ſecondary ends in the two ſacraments were, I have endeavoured to explain. But there might be others.

God might intend them as trials of our faith. The divine truths of the goſpel ſpeak for themſelves: but the performance of a poſitive duty reſts only on faith.

Theſe inſtitutions are alſo ſtrong ar⯑guments for the truth of chriſtianity. We trace the obſervance of them into [189] the very earlieſt times of the goſpel. We can trace no other origin, than what the ſcriptures give us. Theſe rites therefore greatly tend to corrobo⯑rate the ſcriptures.

God alſo, who knows what is in man, might condeſcend ſo far to his weakneſs, as to give him theſe external badges of religion, to keep the ſpirit of it more alive. And it is indeed pro⯑bable, that nothing has contributed more than theſe ceremonies to preſerve a ſenſe of religion among mankind. It is a melancholy proof of this, that no contentions in the chriſtian church have been more violent, nor carried on with more acrimony, and unchriſtian zeal, than the contentions about baptiſm and the Lord's ſupper; as if the very eſſence of religion conſiſted in this or that mode of obſerving theſe rites.— But this is the abuſe of them.

[190]Let us be better taught: let us re⯑ceive theſe ſacraments, for the gracious purpoſes for which our Lord injoined them, with gratitude, and with reve⯑rence. But let us not lay a greater ſtreſs upon them than our Lord intend⯑ed. Heaven, we doubt not, may be gained, when there have been the means of receiving neither the one ſacrament nor the other. But unleſs our affec⯑tions are right, and our lives anſwer⯑able to them; we can never pleaſe God, though we perform the externals of re⯑ligion with ever ſo much exactneſs. We may err in our notions about the ſacraments: the world has long been divided on theſe ſubjects; and a gra⯑cious God, it may be hoped, will par⯑don our errors. But in matters of prac⯑tice, we have no apology for error. The great lines of our duty are drawn ſo ſtrong, that a deviation here, is not error, but guilt.

[191]Let us then, to conclude from the whole, make it our principal care to purify our hearts in the ſight of God. Let us beſeech him to increaſe the in⯑fluence of his Holy Spirit within us, that our faith may be of that kind, "which worketh by love;" that all our affections, and from them our ac⯑tions may flow in a ſteady courſe of obedience; that each day may correct the laſt by a ſincere repentance of our miſtakes in life; and that we may con⯑tinue gradually to approach nearer the idea of chriſtian perfection. Let us do this, diſclaiming, after all, any merits of our own; and not truſting in out⯑ward obſervances; but truſting in the merits of Chriſt to make up our defi⯑ciencies; and we need not fear our ac⯑ceptance with God.