THOUGHTS ON THE MANNERS OF THE GREAT.

TO a large and honourable claſs of the community, to perſons conſiderable in reputation, important by their condition in life, and com⯑mendable for the decency of their general conduct, theſe ſlight hints are reſpectfully addreſſed. They are not intended as a ſatire upon [2]vice, or a ridicule upon folly, being written neither for the fooliſh nor the vicious. The ſubject is too ſerious for ridicule; and thoſe to whom it is addreſſed are too reſpectable for ſatire. It is recommended to the conſideration of thoſe who, filling the higher ranks in life, are naturally regarded as patterns, by which the manners of the reſt of the world are to be faſhioned.

The maſs of mankind, in moſt places, and in moſt conditions of life, is perhaps chiefly compoſed of what may be termed good kind of [3] people; for perſons of very flagitious wickedneſs are almoſt as rare as thoſe of very eminent piety: to the latter of theſe, admonition were impertinent; to the former it were ſuperfluous. Theſe remarks, there⯑fore, are principally written with a view to thoſe perſons of rank and fortune who live within the reſtraints of moral obligation, and acknow⯑ledge the truth of the Chriſtian reli⯑gion: and who, if in certain inſtances they allow themſelves in practices not compatible with a ſtrict pro⯑ſeſſion of Chriſtianity, ſeem to do it rather from habit and want of re⯑flection, [4]than either from diſbelief of its doctrines, or contempt of its precepts.

Inconſideration, Faſhion, and the World, are three conſederates againſt Virtue, with whom even good kind of people often contrive to live on excellent terms: and the fair repu⯑tation which may be obtained by a complaiſant conformity to the pre⯑vailing practice, and by mere de⯑corum of manners, without a ſtrict attention to religious principle, is a conſtant ſource of danger to the rich and great. There is ſomething al⯑moſt [5]irreſiſtibly ſeducing in the con⯑tagion of general example: hence the neceſſity of that vigilance, which it is the buſineſs of Chriſtianity to quicken by inceſſant admonition, and of the world, to lay aſleep by the perpetual opiates of eaſe and pleaſure.

A fair reputation is one of the moſt laudable objects of human am⯑bition; yet even this really valuable bleſſing is ſometimes converted into a ſnare, by inducing a treacherous ſecurity as ſoon as it is obtained. A fatal indolence is apt to creep in [6]upon the ſoul when it has once acquired the good opinion of man⯑kind, if the acquiſition of that good opinion was the ultimate end of its endeavours. Purſuit is at an end when the object is in poſſeſſion; for he is not likely to "preſs forward" who thinks he has already ‘at⯑tained’ The love of worldly reputation, and the deſire of God's favour, have this ſpecific difference, that in the latter, the poſſeſſion al⯑ways augments the deſire; and the ſpiritual mind accounts nothing done while any thing remains undone.

[7]But after all, a fair fame, and the ſupport of numbers, is obviouſly a deceitful dependence; for as every individual muſt die for himſelf, and anſwer for himſelf, both theſe imaginary reſources will fail, juſt at the moment when they could have been of any uſe. A good reputa⯑tion, even without internal piety, would be worth obtaining, if the tribunal of heaven were faſhioned after the manner of human courts of judicature. If at the general judgment we were to be tried by a jury of our fellow mortals, it would be but common prudence to ſecure [8]their favour at any price. But it can now ſtand us in little ſtead in the great day of deciſion, as it is the conſummation of infinite goodneſs, not to abandon us to the mercy of each other's ſentence; but to reſerve us for his final judgment who knows every motive of every action; who will make ſtrict inquiſition into ſin⯑cerity of heart, and uprightneſs of intention; in whoſe eyes an ineffec⯑tual prayer, or a powerleſs wiſh, will outweigh the moſt ſplendid profeſ⯑ſion, or the moſt dazzling action.

We cannot but rejoice in every [9]degree of human virtue which ope⯑rates favourably on ſociety, whatever be the motive, or whoever be the actor; and we ſhould gladly com⯑mend every degree of goodneſs, though it be not ſquared by our own rules and notions. Even the good actions of ſuch perſons as are too much actuated by a regard to appearances, are not without their beneficial effects. The righteouſneſs of thoſe who occupy this middle re⯑gion of morality certainly exceeds the righteouſneſs of the Scribes and Phariſees; for they are not only exact in ceremonials, but in many [10]reſpects fulfil the weightier matters of law and conſcience. Like Herod, they often ‘hear gladly, and do many things.’ Yet I am afraid I ſhall be thought fevere in remarking that, in general, thoſe characters in the New Teſtament, of whoſe future condition no very comfortable hope is given, ſeem to have been taken, not from the profligate, the aban⯑doned, and the diſhonourable; but from that decent claſs commonly deſcribed by the term of good ſort of people; that mixed kind of charac⯑ter in which virtue appears, if it does not predominate. The young Ruler [11]was certainly one of the firſt of this order; and yet we are left in dark uncertainty, as to his final allotment. The rich man who built him barns and ſtorehouſes, and only propoſed to himſelf the full enjoyment of that fortune, which, perhaps, he had very fairly obtained, might have been, for all that appears to the con⯑trary, a very good ſort of man; at leaſt, if we may judge of him by multitudes who live preciſely for the ſame purpoſes, and yet enjoy a good degree of credit, and are rather con⯑ſidered as objects of admiration than of cenſure.

[12]But the moſt alarming inſtance is he, who was clothed in purple and fine linen, fared ſumptuouſly every day, and gave nothing to Lazarus; and who is repreſented after death as lifting up his eyes, being in tor⯑ments. He committed no enormi⯑ties that have been tranſmitted to us; for that he dined well, dreſſed well, and refuſed to relieve one beg⯑gar, could hardly incur the bitter penalty of eternal miſery. His puniſhment ſeems to have been the conſequence of a hard, worldly, ſelfiſh heart, ſpoilt by the ſoftneſſes and delights of life. There is no [13]error more common, or more danger⯑ous, than that an unreſtrained indul⯑gence of appetite is generally at⯑tended with a liberal, humane, and merciful temper. Nor is there any opinion more falſe and more fatal, or which demands to be more ſtea⯑dily controverted, than that libertin⯑iſm and goodnature are natural and neceſſary aſſociates. For after all that corrupt poets, and more corrupt philoſophers, have told us of the blandiſhments of pleaſure, and of its tendency to ſoften the temper, and humanize the affections, it is certain, that nothing hardens the [14]heart like exceſſive and unbounded luxury: and he who refuſes the feweſt gratifications to his own vo⯑luptuouſneſs, will generally be found the leaſt ſuſceptible of tenderneſs for the wants of others. The cruel⯑ties at Rome bore an exact propor⯑tion to the diſſoluteneſs at Capreae. And it is not leſs notorious, that the Imperial fidler became more barbar⯑ous, as he grew more profligate. Proſperity, ſays the Arabian pro⯑verb, fills the heart till it makes it hard; and the moſt dangerous pits and ſnares for human virtue are thoſe, which are ſo covered over [15]with the flowers of proſperous for⯑tune, that it requires a cautious foot, and a vigilant eye, to eſcape them.

Even Ananias and Saphira were, I doubt not, well eſteemed in ſo⯑ciety; for it was enough to eſtabliſh a very conſiderable reputation to ſell even part of their poſſeſſions for religious purpoſes: but what an alarm does it ſound to hypocriſy, that inſtead of being rewarded for what they brought, they were pu⯑niſhed for what they kept back! And it is to be feared, that this de⯑ceitful pair are not the only one, [16]upon whom a good action, without a pure intention, has drawn down a righteous retribution.

For though outward actions are the ſureſt, and to human eyes, the only evidences of ſincerity, yet Chriſtianity is a religion of motives and principles. The Goſpel is con⯑tinually referring to the heart, as the ſource of good; it is to the poor in ſpirit, to the pure in heart, that the divine bleſſing is annexed. A man may correct many improper prac⯑tices, and refrain from many im⯑moral actions, from merely human [17]motives; but, though this partial amendment is not without its uſes, yet this is only attacking ſymptoms, and neglecting the mortal diſeaſe. But to ſubdue a worldly temper, to control irregular deſires, and to have a clean heart, is to extinguiſh the ſoul, and ſpirit, and eſſence of ſin. Totally to accompliſh this, is, per⯑haps, beyond the narrow limits of human perfection; but to attempt it (with an humble reliance on ſupe⯑rior aid), is ſo far from being an ex⯑travagant or romantic flight of virtue, that it is but the common duty of every ordinary Chriſtian. And this [18]perfection is not the leſs real, becauſe it is a point which ſeems conſtantly to recede from our approaches. Our higheſt attainments, inſtead of bringing us "to the mark," only teach us to remove the mark to a greater diſtance, by giving us more humbling views of ourſelves, and more exalted conceptions of the ſtate which we are labouring after. Though the progreſs towards perfec⯑tion may be perpetual in this world, the actual attainment is reſerved for a better. And this reſtleſs deſire of a happineſs which we cannot reach, and this lively idea of a perfection [19]which we cannot attain, are among the many arguments for a future ſtate, which ſeem to come little ſhort of abſolute demonſtration.

But I muſt remember, that this is not a ſermon, but a mere ſuperficial eſſay. I am neither an old man, a clergyman, nor a methodiſt, ſo that it is at leaſt poſſible that I may be neither actuated by moroſeneſs, ſelf⯑intereſt, nor enthuſiaſm. I live much in the world, and have as much ſatisfaction in its lawful plea⯑ſures, and permitted indulgencies, as other men. I endeavour to cul⯑tivate [20]the greateſt candour for the opinions, and affection for the per⯑ſons of all my fellow creatures. I am charmed with the humanity, generoſity, and integrity, even of worldly men. But one virtue muſt not intrench upon other. Charity muſt not ſupplant faith. If a man be generous, good natured, and hu⯑mane, it is impoſſible not to feel for him the tenderneſs of a brother; but if, at the ſame time, he be irre⯑ligious, intemperate, or profane, who ſhall dare to ſay he is in a ſafe ſtate? Good humour, and generous ſentiments, will always make a man [21]a pleaſant acquaintance; but who ſhall lower the doctrines of the Goſ⯑pel, to accommodate them to the conduct of men? Who ſhall bend a ſtrait rule, to favour a crooked prac⯑tice? Who ſhall controvert that authority which has ſaid, that with⯑out holineſs no man ſhall ſee the Lord?

May I venture to be a little para⯑doxical; and while ſo many grave perſons are deſcanting on the miſ⯑chiefs of vice, may I be permitted to ſay a word on the miſchiefs of virtue; or, rather, of that ſhining counterfeit, which, while it wants [22]the ſpecific gravity, has much of the brightneſs of ſterling worth? Ne⯑ver, perhaps, did any age produce more beautiful declamations in praiſe of virtue than the preſent; never were more poliſhed periods round⯑ed in honour of humanity. An ancient Pagan would imagine that Aſtrea had returned to take up her abode in our metropolis; a primi⯑tive Chriſtian would conclude, that ‘righteouſneſs and peace had there met together.’ But how would they be ſurpriſed to find that the obliga⯑tion to theſe duties was not always thought binding on their eloquent [23]encomiaſts! that univerſal bene⯑volence may ſubſiſt with partial injuſtice, and boundleſs liberality with ſordid ſelfiſhneſs! that one may ſeem eager in redreſſing the injuries of half the globe, without deſcending to the petty detail of private virtues; and burn with zeal for the good of millions one never ſaw, and yet ſpread vice and ruin through the little circle of one's own perſonal influence!

When the general texture of an irregular life is ſpangled over with ſome conſtitutional pleaſing [24]qualities; when gaiety, good hu⯑mour, and a thoughtleſs profuſion of expence throw a luſtre round the faultieſt characters, it is no wonder that common obſervers are blinded into admiration: a profuſe gene⯑roſity dazzles them more than all the duties of the decalogue. But though it may be a very uſeful quality towards ſecuring the elec⯑tion of a borough, it will contribute but little towards making ſure the calling and election to the kingdom of heaven. It is ſomewhat ſtrange that extravagance ſhould be the great criterion of goodneſs with thoſe [25]very people who are themſelves the victims to this idol; for the prodi⯑gal pays no debts if he can help it: and it is notorious, that in one of the wittieſt and moſt popular come⯑dies which this country has ever produced, thoſe very paſſages which exalt liberality at the expence of juſtice, were nightly applauded with enthuſiaſtic rapture by thoſe deluded tradeſmen, whom, perhaps, that very ſentiment helped to keep out of their money.

But there is another ſort of faſhion⯑able character, whoſe falſe bright⯑neſs [26]is ſtill more pernicious, by caſt⯑ing a ſplendour over the moſt de⯑ſtructive vices. Corrupt manners, ruinous extravagance, and the moſt fatal paſſion for play, are ſometimes gilded over with many engaging acts of charity, and a general atten⯑tion and reſpect to the ceremonials of Chriſtianity. But this is degrad⯑ing the venerable image and ſuper⯑ſcription of religion, by ſtamping them on baſer metal than they were ever intended to impreſs. The young and gay ſhelter themſelves under ſuch examples, and ſcruple the leſs to adopt the bad parts of ſuch mixed [27]characters, when they ſee that an immoral conduct is ſo compatible with a religious profeſſion.

But I digreſs from my intention; for it is not the purpoſe of this ad⯑dreſs to take notice of any actions which the common conſent of man⯑kind has determined to be wrong; but of ſuch, chiefly, as are practiſed by the ſober, the decent, and the regular; and to drop a few hints on ſuch leſs obvious offences as are, in general, ‘Safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne.’ Nor will the bounds which I have [28]preſcribed myſelf allow of my wan⯑dering into a wide and general field of obſervation.

The idea of the preſent ſlight performance was ſuggeſted by read⯑ing the King's late excellent procla⯑mation againſt irreligion and immo⯑rality. Under the ſhelter of ſo high a ſanction it may not be unſeaſona⯑ble to preſs on the hearts of the better diſpoſed, ſuch obſervances as ſeem to be generally overlooked; and to remark ſuch offences as com⯑monly elude cenſure, becauſe they are not commonly thought cenſurable.

[29]It is obvious to all ſerious per⯑ſons, that that branch of the divine law, againſt which the better kind of people treſpaſs with the leaſt ſcruple, is the fourth commandment. Many who would ſhudder at the violation of the other nine, ſeem without ceremony to expunge this from the divine code; but by what authority they do this, has never been explained. The Chriſtian legiſlator does not ſeem to have abridged the commandments; and there is no ſubſequent authority ſo much as pre⯑tended to by Proteſtants.

[30]It is not here intended to take notice of ſuch flagrant offences as lie open to the cognizance of higher tribunals; or to pollute this paper with deſcanting on the holders of card aſſemblies on Sundays, the fre⯑quenters of taverns and gaming houſes; the printers of Sunday newſ⯑papers; the proprietors of Sunday ſtage coaches; and others, who open⯑ly inſult the laws of the land; laws which will always be held ſacred by good citizens, even were not the law of God antecedent to them.

Many of the order whom I here [31]addreſs are perſons of the tendereſt humanity, and not only wiſh well to the intereſts of virtue, but are favourably diſpoſed to advance the cauſe of religion; nay, would be extremely ſtartled at not being thought ſincerely religious: yet from inconſideration, want of time, want of ſelf-examination, want of ſuſpecting the deceitfulneſs of the human heart, ſometimes allow them⯑ſelves in inattentions and negligences which materially affect their own ſafety, and the comfort of others.—While an animated ſpirit of charity ſeems to be kindled among us; [32]while there is a general diſpoſition to inſtruct the ignorant, and to re⯑form the vicious; one cannot help regretting that theſe amiable exer⯑tions ſhould be counteracted, in ſome degree, by practices of a di⯑rectly oppoſite tendency; trifling in their appearance, but ſerious in their effects.

There are ſtill among us petty domeſtic evils, which ſeem too in⯑conſiderable to claim redreſs. There is an aggrieved body of men in our very capital, whoſe ſpiritual hard⯑ſhips ſeem ſcarcely to have been [33]taken into conſideration, mean the HAIR DRESSERS, on whom ‘The Sunday ſhines, no day of reſt to them.’

Is there not a peculiar degree of unkindneſs in exerciſing ſuch cruelty on the ſouls of men, whoſe whole lives are employed in embelliſhing our perſons? And is it quite con⯑ceivable how a lady's conſcience is able to make ſuch nice diſtinctions, that ſhe would be ſhocked at the idea of ſending for her mantua⯑maker, or milliner, her carpenter, or maſon, on a Sunday, while ſhe makes no ſcruple regularly to employ a hair-dreſſer?

[34]Is it not almoſt ridiculous to ob⯑ſerve the zeal we have for doing good at a diſtance, while we neglect the little, obvious, every-day, do⯑meſtic duties, which ſhould ſeem to ſolicit our immediate attention? But an action ever ſo right and meritorious, which is only to be periodically performed, at diſtant intervals, is leſs burthenſome to cor⯑rupt nature, than an undeviating attention to ſuch ſmall, conſtant, right habits as are hoſtile to our natural indolence, and would be perpetually vexing and diſturbing our ſelf-love. The weak heart in⯑dulges [35]its infirmity, by allowing itſelf intermediate omiſſions, and habitual neglects of duty; repoſing itſelf for ſafety, on regular, but remote returns of ſtated perform⯑ances. It is leſs trouble to ſubſcribe to the propagation of the Goſpel in foreign parts, than to have daily prayers in our own families: and I am perſuaded that there are multi⯑tudes of well-meaning people who would gladly contribute to a miſſion of Chriſtianity to Japan or Otaheite, to whom it never occurred, that the hair-dreſſer, whom they are every Sunday detaining from church, has [36]a ſoul to be ſaved; that the law of the land co-operates with the law of God, to forbid their employing him; and that they have no right, either legal or moral, to this portion of his time. The poor man him⯑ſelf, perhaps, dares not remonſtrate, for fear he ſhould be deprived of his employment for the reſt of the week. If there were no other ob⯑jection to a pleaſurable Sunday among the great and affluent, me⯑thinks this ſingle one might operate: would not a devout heart be unwil⯑ling to rob a fellow creature of his [37]time for devotion, or a humane one of his hour of reſt?

It is ſtrange that there ſhould be ſo little conſiſtency in human con⯑duct, that the ſame perſons ſhould gladly contribute to ſpread the light of Chriſtianity in another hemi⯑ſphere; while, by their example, they actually obſtruct the progreſs of it at home. But it is, I doubt not, much oftener owing to the im⯑perceptible influence of cuſtom and habit, than to a decided ill inten⯑tion. Beſides, it may be in morals as it is in optics, the eye and the [38]object may come too cloſe to each other, to anſwer the end of viſion. There are certain faults which preſs too near our ſelf-love to be even perceptible to us.

There is an evil newly crept into poliſhed ſociety, and it comes under a maſk ſo ſpecious, that they are chiefly good ſort of people who are allured by it; I mean SUNDAY CONCERTS. Many, who would be ſtartled at a prophane, or even an idle amuſement, think that the name of ſacred muſic ſanctifies the diver⯑ſion. But if thoſe who live in eaſe [39]and affluence do not make theſe petty renunciations of their own ways, and their own pleaſure, what criterion have we by which to judge of their ſincerity? For as the good⯑neſs of Providence has exempted them from painful occupations, they have neither labour from which to reſt, nor buſineſs from which to refrain. A little abſtinence from pleaſure is the only evidence of their obedience to the divine pre⯑cept.

I know with what indignant ſcorn this remark will, by many, be re⯑ceived: [40]that much will be advanced in favour of the ſanctity of this amuſement. I ſhall be told that the words are, many of them, ex⯑tracted from the Bible, and that the compoſition is the divine Handel's. But were the angel Gabriel the poet, the archangel Michael the compoſer, and the ſong of the Lamb the ſub⯑ject, it would not abrogate that ſtatute of the Moſt High, which has ſaid, ‘Thou ſhalt keep holy the Sabbath-day, and thy SERVANT, and thy CATTLE, ſhall do no man⯑ner of work.’—I am perſuaded that the hallelujahs of Heaven would [41]make no moral muſic to the ear of a conſcientious perſon, while he re⯑flected that multitudes of ſervants are waiting in the ſtreets, expoſed to every temptation; engaged, per⯑haps, in prophane ſwearing, and idle, if not diſſolute converſation: and the very cattle are deprived of that reſt which the tender mercy of God was graciouſly pleaſed, by an aſtoniſhing condeſcenſion, to include in the commandment.

But I will, for the ſake of argu⯑ment, ſo far concede as to allow of the innocence, and even piety of [42]Sunday concerts: I will ſuppoſe (what, however, does not always happen) that no unhallowed ſtrains are ever introduced; that ſome at⯑tend theſe concerts with a view to cultivate devout affections; that they cheriſh the ſerious impreſſions ex⯑cited by the muſic, and retire in ſuch a frame of ſpirit as convinces them that the heart was touched while the ear was gratified: Nay, I would grant, if ſuch a conceſſion would be accepted, that the intervals were filled up with converſation, ‘where⯑by one may edify another:’—Yet all theſe good effects, allowing them [43]really to have been produced, will not remove the invincible objection of an EVIL EXAMPLE; and what liberal ſpirit would refuſe any rea⯑ſonable ſacrifice of its own pleaſure to ſo important a motive? Your ſer⯑vants have been accuſtomed to con⯑ſider a concert as a ſecular diverſion; if you, therefore, continue it on a Sunday, will not they alſo expect to be indulged on that day with their common amuſements? Saint Paul, who was a very liberal thinker, be⯑lieved it prudent to make frequent ſacrifices of things indifferent in themſelves. He was willing to de⯑ny [44]himſelf a harmleſs and lawful gratification, even as long as the world ſtood, rather than ſhock the tender conſciences of men of leſs under⯑ſtanding. Where a practice is nei⯑ther good nor evil, in itſelf, it is both diſcreet and generous to avoid it, if it can be attended with any poſſible danger to minds leſs enlight⯑ened, and to faith leſs confirmed.

But religion apart, I have ſome⯑times wondered that people do not yield to the temptation that is held out to them, of abſtaining from di⯑verſions one day in ſeven, upon [45]motives of mere human policy; as voluptuaries ſometimes faſt, to give a keener reliſh to the delights of the next repaſt. For pleaſure, like an over-fed lamp, is extinguiſhed by the exceſs of its own aliment. But the lovers of pleaſure are not always prudent, even upon their own prin⯑ciples: for I am perſuaded that the world would afford much more real ſatisfaction than it does, if we did not preſs, and torture, and ſtrain it, to yield what it does not contain. Much good, and much pleaſure, it does liberally beſtow; but no la⯑bour, or art, can extract from it that [46]elixir of peace, that divine eſſence of content, which it is not in its nature to produce. There is good ſenſe in ſearching into every bleſſing for its hidden properties; but it is folly to ranſack and plunder it for ſuch as the experience of all ages tells us are foreign to it. We ex⯑hauſt the world of its pleaſures, and then lament that it is empty; we wring thoſe pleaſures to the very dregs, and then complain that they are vapid.

I ſhall, probably, be accuſed of a very narrow and fanatical ſpirit, in [47]animadverting on a practice ſo little ſuſpected of harm as the frequenting of public walks and gardens on a Sunday: and certainly, there can⯑not be an amuſement more entirely harmleſs in itſelf. But I muſt ap⯑peal to the honeſt teſtimony of our own hearts, if the effect be favour⯑able to ſeriouſneſs. Do we com⯑monly retire from theſe places with the impreſſions which were made on us at church in their full force? We entered theſe ſprightly ſcenes, perhaps, with a ſtrong remaining tincture of that devout ſpirit which the public worſhip had infuſed into [...] [50]If the heart be laid open to the incurſion of vain imaginations, and worldly thoughts, it matters little by what gate the enemy entered. If the effect be injurious, the cauſe cannot be quite harmleſs. It is the perfidious property of certain plea⯑ſures, that, though they ſeem not to have the ſmalleſt harm in them⯑ſelves, they imperceptibly indiſpoſe the mind to every thing that is good.

Many readers will be apt to pro⯑duce againſt all this preciſeneſs, that [51]hackneyed remark which one is tired of hearing, that Sunday diverſions are allowed publicly in many foreign countries, as well in thoſe profeſſing the reformed religion, as popery. But the corruptions of one part of the Proteſtant world are no reaſona⯑ble juſtification of the evil practices of another. Error and infirmity can never be proper objects of imitation. It is ſtill a remnant of the old lea⯑ven: and as to pleading the practice of Roman Catholic countries, one bluſhes to hear an enlightened Pro⯑reſtant juſtifying himſelf by exam⯑ples [52]drawn from that benighted re⯑ligion.

Beſides, though I am far from vindicating the amuſements per⯑mitted on Sundays in foreign coun⯑tries, by allowing that eſtabliſhed cuſtom, and long preſcription, have the privilege of conferring right; yet foreigners may, at leaſt, plead the ſanction of cuſtom, and the con⯑nivance of the law. While in this country, the law of the land, and eſtabliſhed uſage, concurring with ſtill higher motives, give a ſort of venerable ſanction to religious ob⯑ſervances, [53]the breach of which will be always more liable to miſcon⯑ſtruction than in countries where ſo many motives do not concur.

I am not an advocate for the ſeverity of a Jewiſh, or the moroſe⯑neſs of a Puritanical ſabbath. I am likewiſe far from inferring that all thoſe who neglect a ſtrict obſerva⯑tion of Sunday, are remiſs in the performance of their other duties: but I will venture to affirm, that all whom I have remarked conſcien⯑tiouſly to obſerve this day from right motives, have been uniformly atten⯑tive [54]to their general conduct. It has been the opinion of many wiſe and good men, ^* that Chriſtianity [55]will ſtand, or fall, as this day is neglected, or obſerved. Sunday ſeems to be a kind of Chriſtian Palladium; and the city of God will never be totally taken by the enemy till the obſervance of that be quite loſt. Every ſincere ſoldier of the great Captain of our Salvation muſt, therefore, exert himſelf in its defence, as ever he would preſerve [56]the divine Fort of Revelation againſt the confederated attacks of the world and the Devil.

I ſhall proceed to enumerate a few of the many cauſes which ſeem to impede well-diſpoſed people in the progreſs of religion. None per⯑haps contributes more to it than that cold, prudential caution againſt the folly of aiming at perfection, ſo frequent in the mouths of the world⯑ly wiſe. "We muſt take the world," ſay they, ‘as we find it; reforma⯑tion is not the buſineſs of indi⯑viduals, and we are commanded [57]not to be righteous overmuch.’ But theſe admonitions are contrary to every maxim in human affairs. In arts and letters ^* the moſt con⯑ſummate models are held out to imitation. We never hear any body cautioned againſt becoming too wiſe, too learned, or too rich. Zeal, in [58]buſineſs, is accounted commendable; in friendſhip it is amiable; in all the periſhing concerns of earthly things it is extolled as exhibiting marks of a ſprightly temper, and a vigorous mind. Strange! that to be "fervent in ſpirit," ſhould only be diſhonoura⯑ble in that ſingle inſtance which ſhould ſeem to demand unremitting dili⯑gence, and unextinguiſhed warmth.

But after all, is an exceſſive and in⯑temperate zeal the common vice of the times? Is there any very imminent danger that the enthuſiaſm of the great ſhould tranſport them to dangerous [59]and inconvenient exceſſes? Are our young men of faſhion ſo very much led away by the ardour of piety, that they require to have their imagi⯑nations cooled by the freezing max⯑ims of worldly wiſdom? Is the ſpirit of the age ſo very much in⯑clined to catch and to communicate the fire of devotion, as to require to be damped by admonition, or extinguiſhed by ridicule? When the inimitable Cervantes attacked the wild notions and romantic ideas which miſled the age in which he lived, he did wiſely, becauſe he combated an actually exiſting evil; [60]but in this latter end of the eigh⯑teenth century, there ſeems to be little more occaſion (among perſons of rank, I mean) of cautions againſt enthuſiaſm than againſt chivalry; and he who declaims againſt reli⯑gious exceſſes in the company of well bred people, ſhews himſelf to be as little acquainted with the manners of the times, as he would do who ſhould think it a point of duty to write another Don Quixote.

Among the devices dangerous to our moral ſafety, certain favourite and ſpecious maxims are not the [61]leaſt ſucceſsful, as they carry with them an impoſing air of indulgent candour, and always ſeem to be on the popular ſide of good nature. One of the moſt obvious of theſe is, that method of reconciling the conſcience to practices not decidedly wicked, and yet not ſcrupulouſly right, by the qualifying phraſe, that there is no harm in it. I am miſtaken, if more innocent perſons do not inflame their ſpiritual reckoning by this treacherous apology than by almoſt any other means. Few are ſyſtematically, or premeditatedly wicked; or propoſe to themſelves, [62]at firſt, more than ſuch ſmall in⯑dulgences as they are perſuaded have no harm in them. But this lati⯑tude is gradually and imperceptibly enlarged. As the expreſſion is vague and indeterminate; as the darkeſt ſhade of virtue, and the lighteſt ſhade of vice, melt into no very in⯑congruous colouring; as the bounds between good and evil are not al⯑ways ſo preciſely defined, but that he who ventures to the confines of the one, will find himſelf on the borders of the other; every one furniſhes his own definition; every one extends the ſuppoſed limits a [63]little farther; till the bounds which fence in permitted from unlawful pleaſures are gradually broken down, and the marks which ſeparated them imperceptibly deſtroyed.

It is, perhaps, one of the moſt alarming ſymptoms of the degene⯑racy of morals in the preſent day, that the diſtinctions of right and wrong are almoſt ſwept away in polite converſation. The moſt ſe⯑rious offences are often named with cool indifference; the moſt ſhameful profligacy with affected [64]tenderneſs. The ſubſtitution of the word gallantry for that crime which ſtabs domeſtic happineſs and con⯑jugal virtue, is one of the moſt dangerous of all the modern abu⯑ſes of language. Atrocious deeds ſhould never be called by gentle names. This muſt certainly con⯑tribute, more than any thing, to diminiſh the horror of vice in the riſing generation. That our paſſions ſhould be too often engaged on the ſide of error, we may look for the cauſe, though not for the vindication, in the unreſiſted propenſities of our conſtitution: but that our reaſon [65]ſhould ever be employed in its favour, that our converſation ſhould ever be taught to palliate it, that our judgment ſhould ever look on it with indifference, has no ſhadow of excuſe: becauſe this can pretend to no foundation in nature, no apology in temptation, no palliative in paſ⯑ſion.

However defective, therefore, our practice may be; however we may be allured by ſeduction, or precipi⯑tated by paſſion, let us beware of lowering the STANDARD OF RIGHT. This induces an imperceptible cor⯑ruption [66]into the heart, ſtagnates the nobleſt principle of action, irreco⯑verably debaſes the ſenſe of moral and religious obligation, and prevents us from living up to the height of our nature. It cuts off all communica⯑tion with virtue, and almoſt prevents the poſſibility of a return to it. If we do not riſe as high as we aim, we ſhall riſe the higher for having aimed at a lofty mark: but where the RULE is low, the practice cannot be high, though the converſe of the propoſition is not proportionably true.

[67]Nothing more benumbs the exer⯑tions of ardent youthful virtue, than the cruel ſneer which worldly pru⯑dence beſtows on active goodneſs; and the cool deriſion it expreſſes at the defeat of a benevolent ſcheme, of which malice, rather than pene⯑tration, had foreſeen the failure. Alas! there is little need of any ſuch diſcouragements. The world is a climate which too naturally chills a glowing generoſity, and contracts an expanded heart. The zeal of the moſt ſanguine is but too apt to cool, and the activity of the moſt diligent, to ſlacken of itſelf: and [68]the diſappointments which Benevo⯑lence encounters in the failure of her beſt concerted projects, and the frequent depravity of the moſt choſen objects of her bounty, would ſoon dry up the ampleſt ſtreams of charity, were they not fed by the living fountain of religious prin⯑ciple.

I cannot diſmiſs this part of my ſubject without animadverting on the too prompt alacrity, even of worthy people, to diſſeminate, in public and general converſation, in⯑ſtances of their unſucceſsful attempts [69]to do good. I never hear a charity ſtory begun to be related in mixed company, that I do not tremble for the cataſtrophe, leſt it ſhould exhibit ſome mortifying diſappointment, which may deter the inexperienced from running any generous hazards, and excite harſh ſuſpicions, at an age, when it is leſs diſhonourable to meet with a few caſual hurts, and tranſient injuries, than to go caſed in the cumberſome and impenetrable armour of diſtruſt. The liberal ſhould be particularly cautious how they furniſh the avaricious with cre⯑ditable pretences for ſaying their [70]money, as all the inſtances of the mortifications of the humane are added to the armory of the covetous man's arguments, and produced, as defenſive weapons, upon every freſh attack on his heart or his purſe.

But I am willing to hope that that uncharitableneſs which we ſo often meet with in perſons of advanced years, is not always the effect of a heart naturally hard. Miſanthropy is very often nothing but abuſed ſenſibility. Long habits of the world, and a melancholy conviction how little good he has been able to [71]do in it, hardens many a tender hearted perſon. The milk of hu⯑man kindneſs becomes ſoured by repeated acts of ingratitude. This commonly induces an indifference to the well-being of others, and a hopeleſſneſs of adding to the ſtock of human virtue and human happi⯑neſs. This uncomfortable diſeaſe is very fond of ſpreading its own contagion, which is a cruelty to the health of young and uninfected virtue.—For this diſtemper, gene⯑rated by a too ſanguine diſpoſition, and grown chronical from repeated diſappointments, there is but one [72]remedy, or rather one prevention: and this is a genuine principle of piety. He who is once convinced that he is to aſſiſt his fellow crea⯑tures, becauſe it is the will of God, and one of the conditions of obtain⯑ing his favour, will ſoon get above all uneaſineſs when the conſequence does not anſwer his expectation. He will ſoon become only anxious to do his duty, humbly committing events to higher hands. Diſap⯑pointments will then only ſerve to refine his motives, and purify his virtue. His charity will then be⯑come a ſacrifice leſs unworthy of [73]the altar on which it is offered. His affections will be more ſpiritual⯑ized, and his devotions more intenſe. Nothing ſhort of ſuch a courageous piety can preſerve a heart hackneyed in the world from relaxed diligence, or criminal deſpair.

People in general are not aware of the miſchief of judging of the right⯑neſs of any action by its proſperity, or of the excellence of any inſtitution by the abuſe of it. We muſt never proportion our exertions to our ſucceſs, but to our duty. If every laudable undertaking were to be [74]dropped becauſe it failed in ſome caſes, or was abuſed in others, there would not be left an Alms-Houſe, a Charity-School, or an Hoſpital in the land. And if every right prac⯑tice were to be diſcontinued becauſe it had been found not to be ſucceſs⯑ful in every inſtance, this falſe rea⯑ſoning puſhed to the extreme, might at laſt be brought as an argument for ſhutting up our churches, and burning our bibles.

But if, on the one hand, there is a proud and arrogant diſcretion which ridicules, as Utopian and romantic, [75]every generous project of the active and the liberal; ſo there is on the other, a ſort of popular bounty which arrogates to itſelf the exclu⯑ſive name of feeling, and rejects with diſdain the influence of an higher principle. I am far from intending to depreciate this humane and exquiſitely tender ſentiment, which the beneficent Author of our nature gave us, as a ſtimulus to remove the diſtreſſes of others, in order to get rid of our own uneaſi⯑neſs. I would only obſerve, that where not ſtrengthened by ſuperior motives, it is a caſual and precarious [76]inſtrument of good, and ceaſes to operate, except in the immediate pre⯑ſence, and within the audible cry of miſery. This ſort of feeling for gets that any calamity exiſts which is out of its own fight; and though it would empty its purſe for ſuch an occaſional object as rouſes tranſient ſenſibility, yet it ſeldom makes any ſtated proviſion for miſeries, which are not the leſs real becauſe they do not obtrude upon the fight, and awaken the tenderneſs of immediate ſympathy. This is a mechanical charity, which requires ſprings and wheels to ſet it a going; whereas, [77]real Chriſtian charity does not wait to be acted upon by impreſſions and impulſes.

Another cauſe which very much intimidates well-diſpoſed people, is their terror, leſt the character of pie⯑ty ſhould derogate from their repu⯑tation as men of ſenſe. Every man of the world naturally arrogates to him⯑ſelf the ſuperiority of underſtand⯑ing over every religious man. He, therefore, who has been accuſtomed to ſet a high value on his intellectual powers, muſt have made very conſi⯑derable advances in piety before he [78]can acquire a magnanimous indif⯑ference to this uſurped ſuperiority; before he can ſubmit to the parſimo⯑nious allotment of wit and learning, which is aſſigned him by the ſuperci⯑lious hand of worldly wiſdom. But this attack upon his pride will be the beſt touchſtone of his ſincerity. If his advances have not been ſo conſi⯑derable, then, by an hypocriſy of the leaſt common kind, he will be in⯑duſtrious to appear leſs good than he really is, leſt the detection of his ſerious propenſities ſhould draw on him the imputation of ordinary parts or low attainments. But the dan⯑ger [79]is, that while he is too ſedulouſly intent on maintaining his preten⯑ſions as an ingenious man, his claims to piety ſhould daily become weaker. That which is long ſuppreſſed is too frequently extinguiſhed. For this reaſon, principally, it is to be re⯑gretted that religious converſation ſhould be ſo carefully baniſhed from polite company. Were it other⯑wiſe, young and baſhful piety, in⯑ſtead of being afraid to ſhew its head, would be cultivated, cheriſh⯑ed, and encouraged. For while we are beings compounded of paſſion as well as intellect, the devotion of the [80]generality is not ſo purely ſpiritual as not to ſtand in need of every ex⯑ternal and collateral help. Fire is too apt to be extinguiſhed without the aid of ſuch material fuel as is poſſeſſed of igneous particles.

Nothing perhaps more plainly diſcovers the faint impreſſion which religion has really made upon our hearts, than this diſinclination even of good people to ſerious converſa⯑tion. Let me not be miſunderſtood; I do not mean the wrangle of de⯑bate; I do not mean the gall of con⯑troverſy; I do not mean the fiery [81]ſtrife of opinions, than which nothing can be leſs favourable to good na⯑ture, good manners, or good ſo⯑ciety. But it were to be wiſhed, that it was not thought ill-bred and indiſcreet that the eſcapes of the tongue ſhould now and then betray the "fullneſs of the heart:" that when ſuch ſubjects are caſually introduced, a diſcouraging coldneſs did not inſtantly take place of that ſprightly animation of countenance which made common topics intereſt⯑ing. If theſe ‘outward and viſible ſigns’ were unequivocal, we ſhould form but moderate ideas of the in⯑ward [82]and ſpiritual grace. It were to be wiſhed, that ſuch ſubjects were not thought dull merely becauſe they are good; that they had the common chance of fair diſcuſſion; and that parts and learning were not aſhamed to exert themſelves on occaſions where both might appear to ſo much advantage. If the heart were really intereſted, could the affections forbear now and then to break out into language? Artiſts, phyſicians, merchants, lawyers, and ſcholars keep up the ſpirit of their profeſſions, by mutual intercourſe. New lights are ſtruck out, improvements are [83]ſuggeſted, emulation is kindled, love of the object is inflamed, miſ⯑takes are rectified, and deſire of ex⯑cellence is excited by communica⯑tion. And is piety alone ſo very eaſy of acquiſition, ſo very natural to our corrupt hearts, or ſo certainly progreſſive of itſelf, as to require none of the helps which are indiſ⯑penſable on all other ſubjects? Tra⯑vellers, who are to viſit any particu⯑lar country, are full of earneſt in⯑quiry, and diligent reſearch; they think nothing indifferent by which their future pleaſure or advantage may be affected. Every hint which [84]may procure them any information, or caution them againſt any danger, is thankfully received; and all this, becauſe they are really in earneſt in their preparation for this journey; and do fully believe, not only that there is ſuch a country, but that they have a perſonal intereſt in the good, or evil, which may be found in it.

A farther danger to good kind of people ſeems to ariſe from a miſ⯑taken idea, that only great and actual ſins are to be guarded againſt. Whereas, ſins of omiſſion make up, [85]perhaps, the moſt formidable part of their catalogue of offences. Theſe generally ſupply in number what they want in weight, and are the more dangerous for being little oſtenſible. They continue to be repeated with leſs regret, becauſe the remembrance of their prede⯑ceſſors does not, like the remem⯑brance of formal, actual crimes, aſ⯑ſume a body and a ſhape, and terrify by the impreſſion of particular ſcenes and circumſtances. While the me⯑mory of tranſacted evil haunts a tender conſcience by perpetual ap⯑parition; omitted duty, having no [86]local or perſonal exiſtence, not being recorded by ſtanding acts and deeds, and having no diſtinct image to which the mind may recur, ſinks into quiet oblivion, without deeply wounding the conſcience, or tor⯑menting the imagination. Theſe omiſſions were, perhaps, among the "ſecret ſins," from which the royal penitent ſo earneſtly deſired to be cleanſed: and it is worthy of the moſt ſerious conſideration, that theſe are the offences againſt which the Goſpel pronounces very alarming denunciations. It is not leſs againſt negative than actual evil, that affec⯑tionate [87]exhortation, lively remon⯑ſtrance, and pointed parable, are exhauſted. It is againſt the tree which bore NO fruit, the lamp which had NO oil, the unprofitable ſervant who made NO uſe of his talent, that the ſevere ſentence is denounced; as well as againſt corrupt fruit, bad oil, and talents ill employed. We are led to believe, from the ſame high authority, that omitted duties, and neglected opportunities, will furniſh no inconſiderable portion of our future condemnation. A very awful part of the deciſion, in the great day of account, ſeems to be [88]reſerved merely for omiſſions and negatives. Ye gave me NO meat; ye gave me NO drink; ye took me NOT in; ye viſited me NOT. On the puniſhment attending poſitive crimes, as being more naturally ob⯑vious, more logically conſequent, it was not, perhaps, thought ſo ne⯑ceſſary to inſiſt.

Another cauſe which ſtill further impedes the reception of religion even among the well-diſpoſed, is, that garment of ſadneſs in which people delight to ſuppoſe her dreſſed; and that life of hard auſterity, and [89]pining abſtinence, which they pre⯑tend ſhe enjoins her diſciples. And it were well if this were only the miſ⯑repreſentation of her declared ene⯑mies; but, unhappily, it is the too frequent miſconception of her inju⯑dicious friends. But ſuch an over⯑charged picture is not more unamia⯑ble than it is unlike: for I will venture to affirm, that Religion, with all her beautiful and becoming ſanc⯑tity, impoſes fewer ſacrifices, not only of rational, but of pleaſurable enjoyment, than the uncontrolled dominion of any one vice. Her ſervice is not only perfect ſafety, [90]but perfect freedom. She is not ſo tyrannizing as Paſſion, ſo exacting as the World, nor ſo deſpotic as Faſhion. Let us try the caſe by a parallel, and examine it, not as affecting our virtue, but our plea⯑ſure. Does Religion forbid the cheerful enjoyments of life as rigo⯑rouſly as Avarice forbids them? Does ſhe require ſuch ſacrifices of our eaſe as Ambition? or ſuch re⯑nunciations of our quiet as Pride? Does Devotion murder ſleep like Diſſipation? Does ſhe deſtroy Health like Intemperance? Does ſhe anni⯑hilate Fortune like Gaming? Does [91]ſhe imbitter Life like Diſcord; or abridge it like Duelling? Does Reli⯑gion impoſe more vigilance than Suſ⯑picion? or half as many mortifications as Vanity? Vice has her martyrs: and the moſt auſtere and ſelf-denying Aſcetic (who miſtakes the genius of Chriſtianity almoſt as much as her enemies) never tormented himſelf with ſuch cruel and cauſeleſs ſeve⯑rity as that with which Envy lace⯑rates her unhappy votaries. World⯑ly honour obliges us to be at the trouble of reſenting injuries; but Religion ſpares us that inconvenience by commanding us to forgive them; [92]and by this injunction conſults our happineſs no leſs than our virtue; for the torment of conſtantly hating any one muſt be, at leaſt, equal to the ſin of it.—If this eſtimate be fairly made, then is the balance clearly on the ſide of Religion even in the article of pleaſure.

It is an infirmity not uncommon to good kind of people, to comfort themſelves that they live in the exer⯑ciſe of ſome one natural good quality, and to make a religious merit of a conſtitutional happineſs. They have alſo a ſtrong propenſity to ſeparate [93]what God has joined; belief and practice; the creed and the com⯑mandments; actions and motives; moral duty and religious obedience. Whereas, you will hardly find, in all the New Teſtament, a moral, or a ſocial virtue that is not hedged in by ſome religious injunction: ſcarce⯑ly a good action enjoined towards others, but it is connected to ſome exhortation to perſonal purity. All the charities of benevolence are, in general, ſo agreeable to the natural make of the heart, that it is a very tender mercy of God to have made that a duty, which, to finer ſpirits, [94]would have been irreſiſtible as an inclination; and to annex the higheſt future reward to the greateſt preſent pleaſure. But in order to give a religious ſanction to a ſocial virtue, the duty of viſiting the fatherleſs and widow in their affliction, is in⯑ſeparably attached to the difficult and ſelf-denying injunction of keep⯑ing ourſelves unſpotted from the world. This adjunct is the more needful, as many are apt to make a kind of moral commutation, and to allow themſelves ſo much pleaſure in exchange for ſo much charity. But one good quality can never ſtand proxy for another. The Chriſ⯑tian [95]virtues derive their higheſt luſtre from aſſociation: they have ſuch a ſpirit of ſociety, that they are weak and imperfect when ſolitary; their radiance is brightened by commu⯑nication, and their natural ſtrength multiplied by their alliance with each other.

It cannot be denied that good ſort of people ſometimes uſe religion as the voluptuous uſe phyſic. As the latter employ medicine to make health agree with luxury, the former conſider religion as a medium to reconcile peace of conſcience with a [96]life of pleaſure. But no moral che⯑miſtry can blend natural contradic⯑tions; the world will ſtill be upper⯑moſt, and religion will diſdain to coaleſce with its antipathy.

Let me not be ſuſpected of in⯑tending to inſinuate that religion en⯑courages men to fly from ſociety, and hide themſelves in ſolitudes: to renounce the generous and impor⯑tant duties of active life, for the viſionary, cold, and fruitleſs virtues of an Hermitage, or a Cloyſter. No: the miſchief ariſes not from our living in the world, but from the [97]world living in us; occupying our hearts, and monopolizing our affec⯑tions. Action is the life of virtue, and the world is the nobleſt theatre of action. Perhaps ſome of the moſt perfect patterns of human con⯑duct may be found in the moſt pub⯑lic ſtations, and among the buſieſt orders of mankind. It is, indeed, a ſcene of trial, but the glory of the triumph is proportioned to the peril of the conflict. A ſenſe of danger quickens circumſpection, and makes virtue more vigilant. Lot maintain⯑ed his integrity in a great city, pro⯑verbially [98]wicked, and forfeited it in the boſom of retirement.

It has been ſaid that worldly good ſort of people are a greater credit to their profeſſion, by exhibiting more cheerfulneſs, gaiety and hap⯑pineſs, than are viſible in ſerious Chriſtians. If this aſſertion be true, which I very much ſuſpect, is it not probable that the apparent eaſe and gaiety of the former may be derived from the ſame ſource of conſolation which Mrs. Quickly recommends to Falſtaff, in Shakeſpeare's admi⯑rable picture of the death-bed ſcene [99]of that witty profligate? ‘He wiſhed for comfort, quoth mine hoſteſs, and began to talk of God; now I, to comfort him, begged him he ſhould not think of God: it was time enough to trouble himſelf with theſe things.’ Do not many deceive themſelves by drawing water from theſe dry wells of comfort? and patch up a pre⯑carious and imperfect happineſs in this world, by diverting their atten⯑tion from the concerns of the next?

Another obſtruction to the growth of piety, is that unhappy prejudice [100]which even good kind of people too often entertain againſt thoſe who differ from them in opinion. Every man who is ſincerely in earneſt to advance the intereſts of religion, will have acquired ſuch a degree of candour, as to become indifferent by whom good is done, or who has the reputation of doing it, provided it be actually done. He will be anxious to increaſe the ſtock of hu⯑man virtue, and of human happi⯑neſs, by every poſſible means. He will whet and ſharpen every inſtru⯑ment of goodneſs, though it be not caſt in his own mould, or faſhioned [101]after his own pattern. He will ne⯑ver conſider whether the form ſuits his own particular taſte, but whe⯑ther the inſtrument itſelf be calcu⯑lated to accompliſh the work of his maſter. It is a teſt by which he will be able to judge of his own ſincerity, if the delight he feels at hearing of a meritorious action ſuf⯑fers no abatement, becauſe it was performed by one who differs from him in his religious, or even his political ſentiments.

I ſhall conclude theſe looſe and immethodical hints with a general [102]addreſs to thoſe who content them⯑ſelves with a decent profeſſion of the doctrines, inſtead of a diligent diſ⯑charge of the duties of Chriſtianity. Believe, and forgive me:—you are the people who lower religion in the eyes of its enemies. The openly prophane, ^* the avowed enemies to God and goodneſs, confirm the truths they mean to oppoſe, illuſ⯑trate the doctrines they deny, and [103]accompliſh the predictions they diſ⯑believe. But you, like an inade⯑quate and faithleſs prop, overturn the edifice which you pretend to ſupport.—When an acute and keen-eyed infidel meaſures your lives with the rule by which you profeſs to walk; he finds ſo little analogy between them, the copy is ſo unlike the pattern, that this inconſiſtency of yours is the paſs through which his moſt dangerous attack is made. And I muſt confeſs, that of all the arguments, which the malignant in⯑duſtry of infidelity has been able to muſter, the conduct of profeſſing [104]Chriſtians ſeems to me to be the only one which is really capable of ſtaggering a man of ſenſe.—He hears of a ſpiritual and ſelf-denying religion; he reads the beatitudes; he obſerves that the grand artil⯑lery of the Goſpel is planted againſt pride. He then turns to the tran⯑ſcript of this perfect original; the lives which pretend to be faſhioned by it. There he ſees, with trium⯑phant deriſion, that pride, ſelf-love, ſelf-ſufficiency, unbounded perſonal expence, and an inordinate appetite for pleaſure, are reputable vices in the eyes of many of thoſe who ac⯑knowledge [105]the truth of the Chriſtian doctrines. He weighs that meek⯑neſs to which a bleſſing is promiſed, with that arrogance which is too common to be very diſhonourable. He compares that non-conformity to the world, which the Bible makes the criterion of a believer, with that rage for amuſement which is not conſidered as diſreputable in a Chriſ⯑tian. He oppoſes the ſelf-denying and lowly character of the Author of our faith with the ſenſual prac⯑tices of his followers. He finds little reſemblance between the re⯑ſtraints preſcribed, and the gratifica⯑tions [106]indulged in. What concluſions muſt a ſpeculative reaſoning ſceptic draw from ſuch premiſes? Is it any wonder that ſuch phraſes as a broken ſpirit, a contrite heart, poverty of ſpirit, refraining the ſoul, keeping it low, and caſting down high ima⯑ginations, ſhould be to the unbe⯑liever "fooliſhneſs," when ſuch humiliating doctrines are a ‘ſtum⯑bling block’ to profeſſing Chriſ⯑tians, who cannot always cordially reliſh a religion which profeſſedly tells them it was ſent to ſtain the pride of human glory, and to exclude boaſting?

[107]But though the paſſive and ſelf⯑denying virtues are not high in the eſteem of mere good ſort of people, yet they are peculiarly the evan⯑gelical virtues. The world extols brilliant actions; the Goſpel enjoins good habits and right motives: it ſeldom inculcates thoſe ſplendid deeds which make heroes, or thoſe ſounding ſentences which conſtitute philoſophers; but it enjoins the harder taſk of renouncing ſelf, of living uncorrupted in the world, of ſubduing beſetting ſins, and of not thinking of ourſelves more highly than we ought. The acquiſition of [108]glory was the precept of other reli⯑gions, the contempt of it is the per⯑fection of Chriſtianity.

Let us then be conſiſtent, and we ſhall never be contemptible, even in the eyes of our enemies, Let not the unbeliever ſay that we have one ſet of opinions for our theory, and another for our practice; that to the vulgar

It would become our characters as men of ſenſe, of which conſiſt⯑ency [109]is a moſt unequivocal proof, to chooſe ſome rule and abide by it. An extempore Chriſtian is a ridi⯑culous character. Fixed principles will be followed by a conſiſtent courſe of action; while indeciſion of ſpirit will produce inſtability of conduct. If there be a model which we pro⯑feſs to admire, let us ſquare our lives by it. If the Koran of Ma⯑homet, or the Revelations of Zoro⯑aſter, be a perfect guide, let us follow one of them. If either Epi⯑curus, Zeno, or Confucius, be the peculiar object of our veneration and reſpect, let us faſhion our con⯑duct [110]by the dictates of their philo⯑ſophy; and then, though we may be wrong, we ſhall not be abſurd. But if the Bible be in truth the word of God, as we profeſs to believe, we need look no farther for a conſum⯑mate pattern. Let us then make it the rule of our practice here, if it is indeed to be the rule of our judg⯑ment hereafter.

But I am willing to flatter myſelf that the moral and intellectual ſcene about us begins to brighten. I in⯑dulge myſelf in moments of the moſt enthuſiaſtic and delightful vi⯑ſion; [111]taking encouragement from that glorious prophecy, that ‘of the increaſe of his government there ſhall be no end.’ A prediction which ſeems to be gradually accom⯑pliſhing: and in no inſtance more, perhaps, than in the noble attempt about to be made for the abolition of the African ſlave-trade. For what event can human wiſdom fore⯑ſee more likely to contribute to ‘give the SON the Heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermoſt parts of the earth for his poſſeſ⯑ſion,’ than the ſucceſs of ſuch an enterprize, which will reſtore the [112]luſtre of the Chriſtian name, too long ſullied with oppreſſion, cruelty, and injuſtice?

A good ſpirit ſeems to be at work. A catholic temper is diffuſing itſelf among all ſects and parties: an en⯑lightened candour, and a liberal to⯑leration were never more prevalent; good men combat each other's opi⯑nions with leſs rancour, and better manners. We have many public encouragements; we have a pious king; a wiſe and virtuous miniſter; many reſpectable, and not a few ſerious, clergy. (May their number [113]daily increaſe!) Among theſe ſome of the firſt in dignity are the firſt in conduct. An increaſing deſire to inſtruct the poor, to inform the igno⯑rant, and to reclaim the vicious, is ſpreading among us. The late Royal Proclamation affords an ho⯑nourable ſanction to virtuous endea⯑vours, and lends nerves and ſinews to the otherwiſe feeble exertions of individuals, by inforcing laws wiſely planned, but hitherto feebly exe⯑cuted. In ſhort, there is a good hope that we ſhall more and more become that happy people who have the Lord for their God: that as [114]proſperity is already within our walls, peace and virtue may abide in our dwellings.

But vain will be all endeavours after partial and ſubordinate amend⯑ment. Reformation muſt begin with the GREAT, or it will never be effectual. Their example is the fountain from whence the vulgar draw their habits, actions, and cha⯑racters. To expect to reform the poor while the opulent are corrupt, is to throw odours into the ſtream while the ſprings are poiſoned. Even the excellent inſtitution of [115]Sunday ſchools for training religious ſervants, will avail but little, if, as ſoon as the perſons there educated, come into the families of the great, they behold practices diametrically oppoſite to the inſtructions they have been imbibing. If they fall into the houſes of the profligate, they will hear the doctrines which they have been taught to reverence, de⯑rided; if into mere worldly fami⯑lies, they will ſee them neglected: and to the eſſential principle of vital Chriſtianity, oblivion is ſcarcely leſs fatal than contempt.

[116]If, therefore, the rich and great will not, from a liberal ſpirit of doing right, abſtain from thoſe of⯑fences, for which the poor are to ſuffer fines and impriſonments, effec⯑tual good cannot be done. It will ſignify little, to lay penalties on the horſes of the drover, or on the wag⯑gon of the huſbandman, while the chariot wheels of the great roll with inceſſant motion: and the ſacred day on which the ſons of induſtry are commanded by royal proclamation to deſiſt from travelling, is for that very reaſon ſelected for the journeys of the great, and preferred, becauſe [117]the road is encumbered with fewer interruptions. But will it not ſtrike every well-meaning Sunday traveller with a generous remorſe, when he reflects that he owes the accommo⯑dation of an unobſtructed road to the very obedience which is paid by others to that divine and human law which he is in the very act of vio⯑lating?

Will not the common people think it a little inequitable that they are abridged of the diverſions of the pub⯑lic-houſe and the gaming yard on Sunday evening, when they ſhall hear [118]that many houſes of the firſt nobility are on that evening crowded with company, and ſuch amuſements car⯑ried on as are prohibited by human laws even on common days? As imitation, and a deſire of being in the faſhion, govern the lower orders of mankind, it is to be feared that they will not think reformation re⯑putable, while they ſee it recom⯑mended only, and not practiſed, by their betters. A precept counter⯑acted by an example, is worſe than fruitleſs, it is ridiculous: and the common people will be tempted to ſet an inferior value on goodneſs, [119]when they find it is only expected from the lower ranks. They can⯑not ſurely but ſmile at the diſin⯑tereſtedneſs of their ſuperiors, who, while they ſeem anxiouſly concerned to ſave others, are ſo little ſolicitous about their own ſtate. The ambi⯑tious vulgar will hardly reliſh a ſal⯑vation which is only intended for Plebeians; nor will they be apt to entertain very exalted notions of that promiſed future reward, the road to which they perceive their betters are ſo much more earneſt to point out to them, than to walk in themſelves.

[120]It was not by inflicting pains and penalties that Chriſtianity firſt made its way into the world: the divine truths it inculcated received irreſiſti⯑ble confirmation from the LIVES, PRACTICES, and EXAMPLES, of its venerable profeſſors. Theſe were arguments which no popular preju⯑dice could reſiſt, no Jewiſh logic refute, and no Pagan perſecution diſcredit. Had the primitive Chriſ⯑tians only praiſed and promulgated the moſt perfect religion the world ever ſaw, it could have produced but very ſlender effects on the faith and manners of the people, if the [121]jealous and inquiſitive eye of malice could have detected that the DOC⯑TRINES they recommended had not been illuſtrated by the LIVES they led.