Sermons to the Natural Man

THE FUTURE STATE A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE

1 Cor. xiii. 12. — "Now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am kno\\'n."

The apostle Paul made this remark witli refer- ence to tlie blessedness of the Christian in eternity. Such assertions are frequent in the Scriptures. This same apostle, whose soul was so constantly dilated with the expectation of the beatific vision, assures the Corinthians, in another passage in this epistle, that " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man the things which God hath prepared for them that love Him." The be- loved disciple John, also, though he seems to have lived in the spiritual world while he was upon the earth, and though the glories of eternity were made to pass before him in the visions of Patmos, is com- pelled to say of the sons of God, " It doth not yet appear what we shall be." And certainly the com-

2 THE FUTURE STATE

mon Christian, as he looks forward with a mixture of hope and anxiety to his final state in eternity, will confess that he knows but " in part," and that a very small j)art, concerning it. He endures as seeing that which is invisible, and cherishes the hope that througli Christ's redemption his eternity will be a condition of peace and purity, and that he shall know even as also he is known.

But it is not the Christian alone who is to enter eternity, and to whom the exchange of worlds ^vill bring a luminous apprehension of many things that have hitherto been seen only through a glass dark- ly. Ever}' human creature may say, when he thinks of the alteration that will come over his views of re- ligious subjects upon entering another life, "Now I know in part ; but then shall I know even as also I am known. I am now in the midst of the vapors and smoke of this dim spot which men call earth, l)ut then shall I stand in the dazzling light of the face of God, and labor under no doubt or delusion respecting my own character or that of my Eternal Judge."

A moment's reflection will convince any one, that the article and fact of death must of itself make a vast accession to the amount of a man's knowledge, because death introduces him into an entirely new state of existence. Foreign travel adds much to our stock of ideas, because we go into regions of the earth of which we had previously known only by the hearing of the ear. But the gi-eat and last jour"

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 3

ney that man takes carries him over into a province of which no book, not even the Bible itself, gives him any distinct cognition, as to the style of its scenery or the texture of its objects. In respect to any earthly scene or experience, all men stand ii2:)on substantially the same level of information, because they all have substantially the same data for form- ing an estimate. Though I may never have been in Italy, I yet know that the soil of Italy is a part of the common crust of th.e globe, that the Apen- nines are like other mountains which I have seen, that tlie Italian sunlight pours through the pupil like any other sunlight, and that the Italian breezes fan the brow like those of the sunny south the world over. I understand that the general forms of human consciousness in Europe and Asia, are like those in America. The operations of the five senses are the same in tke Old World that they are in the New. But what do I know of the sur- roundings and experience of a man who has trav- elled from time into eternity ? Am I not complete- ly »baffled, the moment I attempt to construct the consciousness of the unearthly state ? I have no materials out of which to build it, because it is not a world of sense and matter, like that which I now inhabit.

But death carries man over into the new and en- tirely different mode of existence, so that he knows by direct observation and immediate intuition. A flood of new information pours in upon the diseni-

4 THE FUTURE STATE

bodied spirit, such as he cannot by any possibility acquire upon earth, and yet such as he cannot by any possibility escape from in his new residence. How strange it is, that the young child, the infant of days, in the heart of Africa, by merely dying, by merely passing from time into eternity, acquires a kind and grade of knowledge that is absolutely in- accessible to the wisest and subtlest philosopher while here on earth ! ^ The dead Hottentot knows more than the living Plato.

But not only does the exchange of worlds make a vast addition to our stores of information respect- ing the nature of the invisible realm, and the mode of existence there, it also makes a vast addition to the kind and degree of our knowledge respecting owt'selves, and our personal relationships to God. This is by far the most important part of the new acquisition which we gain by the passage from time to eternity, and it is to this that the Apostle directs attention in the text. It is not so much the world that will be around us, when we are beyond the tomb, as it is the world that will be within us, that is of chief importance. Our circumstances in this mode of existence, and in any mode of existence, are arranged by a Power above us, and are, compara- tively, matters of small concern ; but the persons

' " She has seen the mystery hid, Under Egypt's pyramid ; By those eyelids pale and close, Now she knows what Khamses knows."

Elizabkth Browning: On the Death of a ChilcL

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE

that we ourselves verily are, the characters which we bring into this environment, the little inner world of thought and feeling which is to be in- closed and overarched in the great outer woiid of forms and objects, — all this is matter of infinite mo- ment and anxiety to a responsible creature.

For the text teaches, that inasmuch as the future life is the ultimate state of being for an immortal spirit, all that imperfection and deficiency in knowl- edge which appertains to this present life, this " ig- norant present" time, must disappear. When we are in eternity, we shall not be in the dark and in doubt respecting certain great questions and truths that sometimes raise a query in our minds here. Voltaire now knows whether there is a sin-hatino- Crod, and David Hume now knows whether there is an endless hell. I may, in certain moods of my mind here upon earth, query whether I am ac- countable and liable to retribution, but the instant I shall pass from this realm of shadows, all this skepticism will be banished forever from my mind. For the future state is the Jinal state, and hence all questions are settled, and all doubts are resolved. While upon earth, the arrangements are such that we cannot see every thing, and must walk by faith, because it is a state of probation ; but when once in eternity, all the arrangements are such that we cannot but see every thing, and must walk by sight, because it is the state of adjudication. Hence it is, that the preacher is continually urging men to view

6 THE FUTURE STATE

thini^s, so far as is possible, in the light of eternity, as the only light that shines clearly and without refractions. Hence it is, that he importunes his hearers to estimate their duties, and their relation- shij^s, and their personal character, as they will iiI)on the death-bed, because in the solemn hour of death the light of the future state begins to dawn upon the human soul.

It is very plain that if a spiritual miui like tlie apostle Paul, who in a very remarkable degree lived with reference to the future world, and contemplat- ed subjects in the light of eternity, was compelled to say that he knew but " in part," much more must the thoughtless natural man confess his ignorance of that which will meet him when his spirit returns to God. The great mass of mankind are totally va- cant of any just apprehension of what will be their state of mind, upon being introduced into God's pres- ence. They have never seriously considered what must be the effect upon their views and feelings, of an entire withdrawraent from the scenes and ob- jects of earth, and an entrance into those of the fu- ture state. Most men are wholly engrossed in the present existence, and do not allow their thoughts to reach over into that invisible region which rev- elation discloses, and which the uncontrollable workings of conscience sometimes /brce upon their attention for a moment. IIow many men there are, whose sinful and thoughtless lives prove that they are not aware tliat the futuiv world will, l»y its

very characteristics, fill tliem witli a species and a grade of information that will be misery unutter- able. Is it not the duty and the wisdom of all such, to attempt to conjecture and anticipate the coming experience of the human soul in the day of judg- ment and the future life, in order that by repent- ance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ they may be able to stand in that day ? Let us then endeavor to know, at least " in part," con- cerning the eternal state.

The latter clause of the text specifies the gen- eral characteristic of existence in the future world. It is ft mode of existence in which the rational mind '' hiows even as it is known." It is a world of knowledge,— of conscious knowledge. In thus unequivocally asserting that our existence beyond the tomb is one of distinct consciousness, revelation has taught us what we most desire and need to know. The first question that wo aid be raised by a creature who was just to be launched out upon an untried mode of existence would be the ques- tion : " Shall I be conscious V However much he might desire to know the length and breadth of the^ocean upon which he was to set sail, the scenery that was to be above him and around him in^ his coming history,— nay, however much he might wish to know of matters still closer to himself than these; however much he might crave to ask of his Maker, " With what body shall I come ?" all would be set second to the simple single inquiry :

8 THE iUTUEE STATE

" Shall I think, shall I feel, shall I know ?" In an- swering this question in the affirmative, ^vithout any hesitation or ambiguity, the apostle Paul has in reality cleared up most of the darkness that overhangs the future state. The structure of the spiritual body, and the fabric of the immaterial world, are matters of secondary importance, and may be left without explanation, provided only the rational mind of man be distinctly informed that it shall not sleep in unconsciousness, and that the immortal spark shall not become such stuff as dreams are made of.

The future, then, is a mode of existence in which the soul " knows even as it is known." But this involves a perception in which there is no error, and no intermission. For, the human spirit in eternity " is known" by the omniscient God. If, then, it knows in the style and manner that God knows, there can be no misconception or cessation in its cognition. Here, then, we have a glimpse into the nature of our eternal existence. It is a state of distinct and unceasing knowledge of moral truth and moral objects. The human spirit, be it holy or sinful, a friend or an enemy of God, in eternity will always and forever be aware of it. There is no forgetting in the future state ; there is no dissipation of the mind there ; and there is no aversion of the mind from itself The cognition is a fixed quantity. Given the soul, and the knowl- ed«"e is o-iven. If it be liolv, it is ahvavs conscious

A SELF-COlSfSCIOUS STATE. 9

of tlie fact. If it he sinful, it cannot for an instant lose the distressing consciousness of sin. In neither instance will it be necessary, as it generally is in this life, to make a special effort and a particular examination, in order to know the personal char- acter. Knowledge of God and His law, in the future life, is spontaneous and inevitable ; no crea- ture can escape it ; and therefore the bliss is un- ceasing in heaven, and the misery is unceasing in hell. There are no states of thoughtlessness and unconcern in the future life, because there is not an instant of forgetfulness or ignorance of the per- sonal character and condition. In the world beyond this, every man will constantly and dis- tinctly know what he is, and what he is not, because he will "be known" by the omniscient and unerring God, and will himself know in the same constant and distinct style and manner.

If the most thoughtless person that now walks the globe could only have a clear perception of that kind of knowledge which is awaiting him upon the other side of the tomb, he would become the most thoughtful and the most anxious of men. It would sober him like death itself. And if any unpardoned man should from this moment onward be haunted with the thought, " When I die I shall enter into the light of God's countenance, and obtain a knowledge of my own character and obli- gations that will be as accurate and unvarying as that of God himself upon this subject," he would

10 THE FUTURE STATE

find no rest until he had obtained an assurance of the Divine mercy, and such an inward change as would enable him to endure this deep and full con- sciousness of the purity of God and of the state of his heart. It is only because a man is unthinking, or because he imagines that the future world will l^e like the present one, only longer in duration, that he is so indifferent regarding it. Here is the diffi- culty of the case, and the fatal mistake which the natural man makes. He supposes that the views which he shall have upon religious subjects in the eternal state, will be very much as they are in this, — vague, indistinct, fluctuating, and therefore causing no very great anxiety. He can pass days and weeks here in time without thinking of the claims of God upon him, and he imagines that the same thing is possible in eternity. While here upon earth, he certainly does not " know even as also he is known," and he hastily concludes that so it will be beyond the grave. It is because men imagine that eternity is only a very long space of time, filled up, as time here is, with dim, indistinct apprehensions, with a constantly shifting expe- rience, with shallow feelings and ever diversified emotions, in fine, with all the variety of pleasure and pain, of ignorance and kno^vledge, that per- tains to this imperfect and probationary life, — it is because mankind thus conceive of the final state, that it exerts no more influence over them. But euch is not its true idea. There is a marked differ-

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 11

ence between tlie present and tlie future life, in respect to uniformity and clearness of knowledge. " Now I know in part, but tken shall I know even as also I am known." Tlie text and the whole teaching of the New Testament prove that the invisible world is the unchangeable one ; that there are no alterations of character, and consequently no alternations of experience, in the future life ; that there are no transitions, as there are in this check- ered scene of earth, from happiness to unhappiness and back again. There is but one uniform type of experience for an individual soul in eternity. That soul is either uninterruj^tedly happy, or nnin- . terruptedly miserable, because it has either an un- interrupted sense of holiness, or an uninterruj)ted sense of sin. He that is righteous is righteous still, and knows it continually; and he that is filthy is filtliy still, and knows it incessantly. If we enter eternity as the redeemed of the Lord, we take over the holy heart and spiritual affections of regeneration, and there is no change but that of progression, — a change, consequently, only in degree, but none of kind or type. The same knowledge and exj^erience that we have here " in part" we shall have there in completeness and per- manency. And the same will be true, if the heart be evil and the affections inordinate and earthly. And all this, sin^^^ly because the mind's knowledge is clear, accurate, and constant. That which the transgressor knows here of God and his own heart,

12 THE FUTURE STATE

"but imperfectly, and fitfully, and Lriefly, lie shall know there j^erfectly, and constantly, and ever- lastingly. The law of constant evolution, and the characteristic of unvarying uniformity, will deter- mine and fix the type of experience in the evil as it does in the good.

Such, then, is the general nature of knowledge in the future state. It is distinct, accurate, uninter- mittent, and unvarying. We shall know even as we are known, and we are known by the omnis- cient and unerring Searcher of hearts. Let us now apply this general characteristic of cognition in eternity to some particulars. Let us transfer our minds into the future and final state, and mark what goes on within them there. We ought often to enter this mysterious realm, and become habit- uated to its mental processes, and by a wise antici- pation become prepared for the reality itself.

L The human mind, in eternity, will have a distinct and unvarying perception of the character of God. And that one particular attribute in this character, respecting which the cognition will be of the most luminous quality, is the Divine holiness. In eternity, the immaculateuess of the Deity will penetrate the consciousness of every rational crea- ture with the sul)tlety and the thoroughness of fire. God's essence is infinitely pure, and intensely antag- onistic to sin, but it is not until there is a direct contact between it and the human mind, that man imderstands it and feels it. " I have heard of Thee

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE, 13

by the hearing of the ear, but now mine eye seeth Thee, and I abhor myself." Even the best of men know but " in part " concerning the holiness of God. Yet it is noticeable how the apprehension of it grows upon the ripening Christian, as he clra^vs nearer to the time of his departure. The vision of the cherubim themselves seems to dawn upon the soul of a Leighton and an "Edwards, and though it ■ does not in the least disturb their saintly and se- raphic peace, because they are sheltered in the clefts of the Rock of Ages, as the brightness passes by them, it does yet bring out from their compara- tively holy and spiritual hearts the utterance, " Behold I am vile ; infinite upon infinite is my sin." But what shall be said of the. common and ordinary knowledge of mankind, upon this subject ! Except at certain infrequent times, the natural man does not know even " in part," respect- ing the holiness of Grod, and hence goes on in trans- gression without anxiety or terror. It is the very first work of prevenient grace, to disclose to the human mind something of the Divine purity ; and whoever, at any moment, is startled by a more than common sense of Gk)d's holy character, should regard it and cherish it as a token of benevolence and care for his soul.

Now, in eternity this species of knowledge must exist in the very highest degree. The human soul will be encircled by the character and attributes of God. It cannot look in any direction without

14 THE rUTUEE STATE

beholding it. It is not so here. Here, in this life, man may and does avert his eye, aiid refuse to look at the sheen and the splendor that pains his organ. He fastens his glance upon the farm, or the mer- chandise, or the book, and perseveringly deter- mines not to see the purity of God that rebukes him. And liere he can succeed. He can and does live days and months without so much as a moment- ary glimpse of his Maker, and, as the apostle says, is " without God " in this world. And yet such men do have, now and then, a view of the face of God. It may be for an instant* only. It may be merely a thought, a gleam, a flash ; and yet, like that quick flash of lightning, of which our Lord speaks, that lighteneth out of the one part of heaven, and shineth unto the other part, that cometh out of the East and shineth even unto the West, — like that swift momentary flash which runs round the whole horizon in the twinkling of an eye, this swift thought and gleam of God's purity fills the whole guilty soul full of light. What spiritual distress seizes the man in such moments, and of what a penetrating perception of the Divine character is he possessed for an instant ! It is a distinct and an accurate knowledge, but, unlike the cognition of the future state, it is not yet an inevitable and unintermittent one. He can expel it, and become again an ignorant and indifi'erent being, as he was before. He knows but " in pai't " at the very best, and this only temporarily.

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 15

But carry this rational and accountable creature into eternity, denude liim of the body of sense, and take him out of the busy and noisy world of sense into the silent world of spirits, and into the imme- diate presence of God, and then he will know upon this subject even as he is known. That sight and perception of God's purity which he had here for a brief instant, and which was so painful because he was not in sympathy with it, has now become ever- lasting. That distinct and accurate knowledge of God's character has now become his only knowl- edge. That flash of lightning has become light, — fixed, steady, permanent as the orb of day. The rational spirit cannot for an instant rid itself of the idea of God. Never for a moment, in the endless cycles, can it look away fi'oni its Maker; for in. His presence -what other object is there to look at? Time itself, with its pursuits and its objects of thought and feeling, is no longer, for the angel hath sworn it by Him who liveth for ever and ever. There is nothing left, then, to occupy and engross the attention but the character and attributes of God ; and, now, the immortal mind, created for such a purpose, must yield itself up to that contem- plation which in this life it dreaded and avoided. The future state of every man is to be an open and unavoidable vision of God. If he delights in the view, he will be blessed ; if he loathes it, he will be misei^able. This is the substance of heaven and hell. This is the key to the eternal destiny of

IG TPIE FUTURE STATE

every liuinan soul. If a man love God, lie shall gaze at liira and adore ; if he hate God, he shall gaze at him and gnaw his tongue for pain.

The subject, as thus far unfolded, teaches the following lessons :

1. 'In the first place, it shows that a false tlieomj of the future state will not j^rotect a man from fu- ture miser]]. For, we have seen that the eternal world, by its very structiire and influences, throws a flood of light upon the Divine character, causing it to appear in its inefl^able purity and splendor, and compels every creature to stand out in that light. There is no darkness in which man can hide him- self, when he leaves this world of shadows. A false theory, therefore, respecting God, can no more pro- •tect a man from the reality, the actual matter of fact, than a false theory of gravitation will preserve a man from falling from a precipice into a bottom- less abyss. Do you come to us with the theory that every human creature will be happy in another life, and that the doctrine of future misery is false ? We tell you, in reply, that God is lioly^ beyond dispute or controversy; that He cannot endure the sight of sin; and that in the future world every one of His creatures must see Him precisely as He is, and know Him in the real and eternal qualities of His nature. The man, therefore, who is full of sin, whose heart is earthly, sensual, selfish, must, when he approaches that pure Presence, find that his the- ory of future happiness shrivels up like the heavens

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. l7

themselves, before the majesty and glory of God. He now stands face to face with a Being whose character has never dawned upon him with such a dazzling purity, and to dispute the reality would ])e like disputing the fierce splendor of the noonday sun. Theory must give way to fact, and the de- luded mortal must submit to its awful force.

In this lies the irresistiUe power of death, judg- ment, and eternity, to alter the views of men. Up to these points they can dispute and argue, because there is no ocular demonstration. It is possible to debate the question this side of the tomb, because we are none of us face to face with God, and front to front with eternity. In the days of Noah, before tlie fiood came, there was skepticism, and many the- ories concerning; the threatened delusre. So Ions: as the sky was clear, and the green earth smiled un- der the warm sunlight, it was not difficult for the unbeliever to maintain an argument in opposi- tion to the preacher of righteousness. But when the sky was rent with lightnings, and the earth was scarred with thunder-bolts, and the fountains of the great deep were broken up, where was the skep- ticism ? where were the theories ? where were the ar- guments ? When God teaches, " Where is the wise ? where is the scribe ? where is the disputer of this world ? " They then knew as they were known ; they stood face to face with the facts.

It is this inevitahleaess of the demonstration up- on which we would fasten attention. We are not

IS THE FUTURE STATE

always to live in tliis world of shadows We are going individually into tlie very face and eyes of Je- hovah, and whatever notions we may have adopted and maintained must all disappear, except as they shall be actually verified by what w^e shall see and know in that period of our existence when we shall perceive with the accuracy and clearness of God Himself. Our most darling theories, by which we may have sought to solace our souls in reference to our future destiny, if false, will be all ruthlessly torn away, and we must see what verily and eter- nally is. All mankind come upon one doctrinal platform when they enter eternity. They all liave one creed there. There is not a skeptic even in hell. The devils believe and tremble. The de- monstration that God is holy is so irrefragable, so complete and absolute, that doubt or denial is im- possible in any spirit that has passed the line be- tween time and eternity.

2. In the second place, this subject show^s that indiffereiice and carelessness respecting the future life will not protect the soul from future misery. There may be no false theory adopted, and yet if there be no thoughtful preparation to meet God, the result will be all the same. I may not dispute the Xew- tonian theory of gravitation, yet if I pay no heed to it, if I simply forget it, as I clamber up moun- tains, and walk by the side of precipices, my body will as surely be dashed to pieces as if I were a theoretical skeptic upon the subject of gravitation.

A SELF-COITSCIOUS STATE. 19

The creature's indifference can no more alter the immutable nature of God, tlian can the creature's false reasoning, or false theorizing. That which is settled in heaven, that which is fixed aud eternal, stands the same stern, relentless fact under all circumstances. We see the operation of this sometimes here upon earth, in a very impres- sive manner. A youth or a man simply neg- lects the laws and conditions of physical well-be- ing. He does not dispute them. He merely pays no attention to them. A few years pass by, and disease aud torturing pain become his portion. He comes now into the awful presence of the powers and the facts which the Creator has inlaid in the world of physical existence. He knows now even as he is known. And the laws are stern. He finds no place of repentance in them, though he seek it carefully with tears. The laws never repent, never change their mind. The principles of physical life and growth which he has never disputed, but which he has never regarded, now crush him into the ground in their relentless march and motion.

Precisely so will it be in the moral world, and with reference to the holiness of God. That man who simply neglects to prepare himself to see a holy God, though he never denies that there is such a Being, will find the vision just as unendurable to him, as it is to the most determined of earthly skeptics. So far as the final result in the other world is concerned, it matters little whether a "man adds

20 TUE rUTUllE STATE

unhelief to his carelessness, or not. The carelessness will ruin his soul, whether with or without skepti- cism. Orthodoxy is valuable only as it inspires the hope that it will end in timely and practical atten- tion to the concerns of the soul. But if you show me a man who you infallibly know will go through life careless and indifferent, I will show you a man who will not be prepared to meet God face to face, even though his theology be as accurate as that of St. Paul himself. Nay, we have seen that there is a time coming when all skeptics will become believers like the devils themselves, and will tremble at the ocular demonstration of truths which they have heretofore denied. Theoretical unbelief must be a tem])orary affair in every man ; for it can last only until he dies. Death will make all the world the- oretically orthodox, and bring them all to one and the same creed. But death will not bring them all to one and the same happy experience of the truth, and love of the creed. For those who have made preparation for the vision of God and the ocular demonstration of Divine truth, these will rise upon their view with a blessed and glorious light. But for those who have remained sinful and careless, these eternal truths and facts will be a vision of terror and despair. They will not alter. No man will find any place of repentance in them, though, like Esau, he seek it carefully and with tears.

3. In the thii-d place, this subject shows that only faith in Christ and a new lieart can ijvetect the soul

A SELF-COJSfSCIOUS STATE. 21

from future miser ij. The nature and character of God cannot be altered, and therefore the chano-e must be wrought in man's soul. The disposition ' and affections of the heart must be brouorht into such sweet sympathy and harmony with God's holi- ness, that when in the next world that holiness shall be revealed as it is to the seraphim, it will fall in upon the soul like the rays of a vernal sun, start- ing every thing into cheerful life and joy. If the Divine holiness does not make this impression, it produces exactly the contrary effect. If the sun's rays do not start the bud in the spring, they kill it. If the vision of a holy God is not our heaven, then it must be our hell. Look then directly into your heart, and tell us which is the impression for you. Can you say with David, " We give thanks and re- joice, at the remembrance of Thy holiness?" Are you glad that there is such a pure and immaculate Being upon the throne, and when His excellence abashes you, and rebukes your corruption and sin, do you say, " Let the righteous One smite me, it shall be a kindness V Do you love God's holy char- acter ? If so, you are a new creature, and are ready for the vision of God, face to face. For you, to know God even as you are known by Him will not be a terror, but a glory and a joy. You are in sym- pathy with Llim. You have been reconciled to Him by the blood of atonement, and brought into harmo- ny with Him by the washing of regeneration. For you, as a believer in Christ, and a new man in

22 THE FUTCTEE STATE.

Cltnst fJesus, all is well. The more you see of God, the more you desire to see of Him ; aud the more you know of Ilim, the more you long to know.

But if this is not your experience, then all is ill with yon. We say experience. You must feel in this manner toward God, or you cannot endure the vision which is surely to break upon you after death. You must love this holiness without which no man cari see the Lord. You may approve of it, you may pr//ise it in other men, but if there is no affectionate going out of your own heart toward the holy God, you are not in right relations to Him. You have the carnal mind, and that is enmity, and enmity is misery.

Look these facts in the eye, and act accordingly. " Make the tree good, and his fruit good," says Christ. Begin at the beginning. Aim at nothing less than a change of disposition and affections. Ask for nothing less, seek for nothing less. If you become inwardly holy as God is holy ; if you be- come a friend of God, reconciled to Him by the blood of Christ ; then your nature will be like God's nature, your character like God's character. Then, when you shall know God even as you are known by Him, and sliall see Him as He is, the knowledge and the vision will be everlasting joy.

THE PUTUEE STATE A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE

1 Cor. xiii. 12. — " Now I know in part ; but then shall I know even as also I am known."

Iisr tlie preceding discourse, we found in these words the principal characteristic of our future ex- istence. The world beyond the tomb is a world of clear and conscious knowledge. When, at death, I shall leave this reo-ion of time and sense and enter eternity, my knowledge, the apostle Paul tells me, instead of being diminished or extinguished by the dissolution of the body, will not only be continued to me, but will be even greater and clearer than before. He assures me that the kind and style of my cognition will be like that of God himself. I am to know as I am known. My intelligence will coincide with that of Deity.

By this we are not to undeiistand that the crea- ture's knowledge, in the future state, will be as ex- tensive as that of the Omniscient One ; or that it will be as profound and exhaustive as His. The in- finitude of things can be known only by the Infinite

24 THE FUTURE STATE

Mind ; and the creature will forever be makins: new acquisitions, and never reaching the final limit of truths and facts. But upon certain moral subjects, the perception of the creature will be like that of his Maker and Judge, so far as the Mnd or q^ual- ity of the apprehension is concerned. Every man in eternity, for illustration, will see sin to be an odious and abominable thing, contrary to the holy nature of God, and awakening in that nature the most holy and awful disj^leasure. His knowledge upon this subject will be so identical with that of God, that he will be unable to palliate or excuse his transgressions, as he does in this world. He will see them precisely as God sees them. He must know them as God knows them, because he will "know even as he is know^n."

H. In continuing the examination of this solemn subject, we remark as a second and further charac- teristic of the knowledge w^hich every man will possess in eternity, that he will know himself even as he is known by God. His knowledge of God we have found to be direct, accurate, and unceas- ing ; his knowledge of his own heart will be so like- wise. This follows from the relation of the two species of cognition to each other. The true knowl- edge of God involves the true knowledge of self. The instant that any one obtains a clear view of the holy nature of his Maker, he obtains a clear view of his own sinful nature. Philosophers tell us, that our consciousness of (iod and our consciousness of

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 25

self mutually involve and imply each other ;^ in other words, that we cannot know God without immediately knowing ourselves, any more than we can know light without knowing darkness, any more than we can have the idea of ri<xht without having the idea of w^rong. And it is certainly true that so soon as any being can intelligently say, " God is holy," he can and must say, " I am holy," or, " I am unholy," as the fact may be. Indeed, the only way in which man can truly know himself is to contrast himself with his Maker; and the most exhaustive self-knowledge and self-consciousness is to be found, not in the schools of secular philoso- phy but, in the searchlngs of the Christian heart, — in the " Confessions " of Augustine ; in the laby- rinthine windings of Edw^ards " On the Affections." Hence the frequent exhortations in the Bible to look at the character of God, in order that we may know ourselves and be abased by the contrast. In eternity, therefore, if we must have a clear and con- stant perception of God's character, we must neces- sarily have a distinct and unvarying knowledge of our own. It is not so here. Here in this world, man knows himself but " in part." Even when he endeavors to look within, prejudice and passion often affect his judgment; but more often, the fear of what he shall discover in the secret places of his soul deters him from making the attem23t at self-

' Noverim me, noverim Te. — Bekxakd.

26 THE FUTURE STATE

examination. For it is a surprising triitb that the transo^ressor dares not brinii: out into the lio;ht that which is most truly his own, that which he himself has originated, and which he loves and cherishes with all his stren2:th and mio-lit. He is afraid of his own heart ! Even when God forces tlie vision of it upon him, he would shut his eyes ; or if this be not possible, he would look through distorting media and see it with a false form and coloring.

" But 'tis not so above ; There is no shuffling ; there the action lies In his true nature : and we ourselves compelled, Even to the teetli and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence." '

The spirit that has come into the immediate pres- ence of God, and beholds Him face to face, cannot deceive Him, and therefore cannot deceive itself. It cannot remain ignorant of God's character any longer, and therefore cannot remain ignorant of its own.

We do not sufficiently consider and ponder the elements of anguish that are sleeping in the fact that in eternity a sinner must know God's character, and therefore must know his own. It is owins: to their neglect of such subjects, that mankind so little understand what an awful po^ver there is in the distinct perception of the Divine purity, and the al- lied consciousness of sin. Lord Bacon tells u ^ that

'SuAKSPEAKK: Ilaiulet, Act III., Sc. 4.

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 27

the knowledge acquired in tlie schools is power; but it is weakness itself, if compared with that form and species of cognition which is given to the mind of man by the workings of conscience in the light of the Divine countenance. If a transgressor knew clearly what disclosures of God's immaculateness and of his own character must be made to him in eternity, he would fear them, if unprepared, far more than physical sufferings. If he understood what capabilities for distress the rational spiiit pos- sesses in its own mysterious constitution, if when brought into contact with the Divine purity it has no sympathy with it, but on the contrary an intense hostility ; if he knew how violent will be the antag- onism between God's holiness and man's sin when the two are finally brought together, the assertion that there is no external source of anguish in hell, even if it were true, would afford him no relief. Whoever goes into the presence of God with a cor- rupt heart carries thither a source of sorrow that is inexhaustible, simply because that corrupt heart must be distinctly hiown, SiU^X perpetually understood by its possessor, in that Presence. The thoughtless man may never know while upon earth, even " in part," the depth and the bitterness of this fountain, — he may ^o through this life for the most part self io-norant and undistressed, — but he must know in that other, final, world the immense fulness of its woe, as it unceasingly wells up into everlasting death. One theory of future punishment is, that

28 THE FUTURE STATE

our globe will become a penal orb of fire, and the Avicked with material bodies, miraculously preserved b y Omnipotence, will burn forever in it. But what is this compai'ed with the suffering soul? The spirit itself, thus alienated from God's purity and conscious that it is, wicked and hnowing that it is wicked, becomes an " orb of fire." " It is," — says John Howe, who was no fanatic, but one of the most thoughtful and philosophic of Christians, — " it is a throwing hell into hell, when a wicked man comes to hell ; for he was his own hell before." ^

It must ever be borne in mind, that the principal source and seat of future torment will be the sin- ner's sin. We must never harbor the thought, or fall into the notion, that the retributions of eter- nity are a wanton and arbitrary infliction upon the part of God. Some men seem to suppose, or at any rate they represent, that the woes of hell are a spe- cies of undeserved sufterins: ; that God, havino; cer- tain, helpless and innocent creatures in His power, visits thesn with wrath, in the exercise of an ar- bitrary sovereignty. But this is not Christ's doc- trine of endless punishment. There is no suffering inflicted, here or hereafter, upon any thing but s^;^, — unrepented, incorrigible sin, — and if you will show me a sinless creature, I will show you one who will never feel the least twinge or pang througli all eter- nity. Death is the wages of sin. The substance

'JIuwk: Ou Regeneration. Sermon xliii.

A SELF-COITSCIOUS STATE. 29

of the wretchedness of the lost will issue right out of their own character. They will see their own wickedness steadily and clearly, and this will make them miserable. It will be the carrying out of the same principle that operates here in time, and m our own daily experience. Suppose that by some method, all the sin of my heart, and all the sins of my outward conduct, were made clear to my own view; suppose that for four-and-twenty hours con- tinuously I were compelled to look at my wicked- ness intently, just as I would look intently mto a burning furnace of fire ; suppose that for this length of time""! should see nothing, and hear nothing, and experience nothing of the world about me, but should be absorbed in the vision of my own disobe- dience of God's good law, think you that (setting aside the work of Christ) I should be happy ? On the contrarv, should I not be the most wretched of mortals? Would not this self-knowledge be pure living torment? ' And yet the misery springs entirely out of the sin. There is nothing arbitrary or wanton in the suffering. It is not brought in tipon me from the outside. It comes out of myself And, while I was writhing under the sense and power of my transgressions, would you mock me, by telling me that I was a poor innocent struggling in the hands of omnipotent malice; that the suffer- ing was unjust, and that if there were any justice in°the universe, I should be delivered from it ? No, we shall suffer in the future world only as we are

30 THE FUTURE STA.TE

sinners, and because we are sinners. There will be weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, only because the sinful creature will be compelled to look at himself; to know his sin in. the same man- ner that it is known by the Infinite Intelligence. And is there any injustice in this ? If a sinful being cannot bear the sight of himself, would you have the holy Deity step in between him and his sins, so that he should not see them, and so that he might be happy in them ? Away with such folly and such wickedness. For it is the height of wicked- ness to desire that some method should be invent- ed, and introduced into the universe of God, where- by the wages of sin shall be life and joy ; whereby a sinner can look into his own wicked heart and be happy.

III. A third characteristic of the knowledge which every man will possess in eternity will be a clear understanding of the nature and loants of the soul. Man has that in his constitution which needs God, and which cannot be at rest except in God. A state of sin is a state of alienation and separation from the Creator. It is, consequently, in its intrin- sic nature, a state of restlessness and dissatisfaction. " There is no peace saith my God to the wicked ; the wicked are like the troubled sea." In order to know this, it is only necessary to bring an apos- tate creature, like man, to a consciousness of the original re(juirements and necessities of his being. But u2)on this sulyect, man while upon eai*th most

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. 31

certainly knows only. " in part." Most i^en are wholly ignorant of tlie constitutional needs of a ra- tional spirit, and are not aware that it is as impos- sible for the creature, when in eternity, to live hap- pily out of God, as it is for the body to live at all in the element of fire. Most men, while here upon earth, do not know upon this subject as they are kn'own. God knows that the whole created uni- verse cannot satisfy the desires of an immortal being, but impenitent men do not know this fact with a clear perception, and they will not until they die and go into another world.

And the reason is this. So long as the worldly natural man lives upon earth, he can find a sort of sul)stitute for God. He has a capacit}^ for loving, and he satisfies it to a certain degree by loving him- self; by loving fame, wealth, pleasure, or some form of creature-good. He has a capacity for thinking, and he gratifies it in a certain manner by ponder- ing the thoughts of other minds, or by original speculations of his own. And so we might go through with the list of man's capacities, and we should find, that he contrives, while here upon earth, to meet these appetences of his nature, after a sort, by the objects of time and sense, and to give his soul a species of satisfaction short of God, and away from God. Fame, wealth, and pleasure ; the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life ; l)ecome a substitute for the Creator, in his search for happiness. As a consequence, the unregenerate

0-5 TDE FUTURE STATE

man kii§ws l)iit " in part" respecting the primitive and constitutional necessities of his beino-. He is feeding them with a false and unhealthy food, and in this way manages to stifle for a season their true and deep cravings. But this cannot last forever. When a man dies and goes into eternity, he takes nothing with him but his character and his moral affinities. " We brought nothing into this world, and it is cer- tain that we can carry nothing out." The original requirements and necessities of his soul are not de- stroyed by death, but the earthly objects by which he sought to meet them, and by which he did meet them after a sort, are totally destroyed. He still has a capacity for loving; but in eternity where is the fame, the wealth, the pleasure upon which he has hitherto expended it? He still has a capacity for thinking; but where are the farm, the merchan- dise, the libraries, the works of art, the human lit eratures, and the human philosophies, upon which he has heretofore employed it ? The instant you cut off a creature who seeks his good in the world, and not in God, from intercourse with the world, you cause him to know even as he is known re- specting the* true and pro2:)er portion of his soul. Deprived of his accustomed and his false object of love and support, he immediately begins to reach out in all directions for something to love, some- thing to think of, something to trust in, and finds nothing. Like that insect in our gardens which s])ius a slender thread l»y which to guide itself iu

A SELF-CO^rSCIOUS STATE. 33

its meanderings, and whicli when the clew is cut thrusts oat its head in every direction, but does not venture to advance, the human creature who has suddenly been cut off by death from his accustomed objects of support and pleasure stretches out in every direction for something to take their place. And the misery of his case is, that when in his I'eachings out he sees God, or comes into contact with God, he starts back like the little insect when you present a coal of fire to it. He needs as much as ever, to love some beino; or some thino;. But he has no heart to love God, and there is no other being and no other thing in eternity to love. He needs, as much as ever, to think of some object or some subject. But to think of God is a distress to him; to reflect upon divine and holy things is weariness and woe. He is a carnal, earthly-minded man, and therefore cannot find enjoyment in such meditations. Before he can take relish in such ob- jects and such thinking, he must be born again ; he must become a new creature. But there is no new-birth of the soul in eternity. The disposition and character which a man takes alons; with him when he dies remains eternally unchanged. The constitutional wants still continue. The man must love, and must think. But the only object in eter- nity upon which such capability can be expended is God ; and the carnal mind, saith the Scripture, is enmity against God, and is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.

34 THE FUTURE STATE

Now, whatever may be the course of a man in this lite ; whether he becomes aware of these creat- ed imperatives, and constitutional necessities of his immortal spirit or not ; whether he hears its re- proaches and rebukes because he is feeding them with the husks of earth, instead of the bread of heaven, or not; it is certain that in the eternal world they will be continually awake and perpetu- ally heard. For that spiritual world will be fitted up for nothing but a rational spirit. There will l>e nothino; material, notliino- like earth, in its arran<'>'e- ments. Flesh and blood cannot 'inherit either the kingdom of God or the kingdom of Satan, The enjoyments and occupations of this sensuous and material state will be found neither in heaven nor in hell. Eternity is a spiritual region, and all its objects, and all its provisions, will have reference solely to the original capacities and destination of a spiritual creature. They will, therefore, all Ije terribly reminiscent of apostasy ; only serving to remind the soul of ^vhat it was originally designed to be, and of what it has now lost by worshipping and loving the creature more than the Creator. How wretched then must man be, when, with the awakening of this restlessness and dissatisfaction of an immortal spirit, and with the bright pattern of what he ought to l)e continually before his eye, there is united an intensity of self-love and enmity toward God, that drives him anywhere and every- \v liere but to his Maker, for peace and comforL IIow

A SELF-CONSCIOUS STATE. . 35

full of woe must the lost creature be, wlien liis im- mortal necessities are awakened and demand tlieir proper food, but cannot obtain it, because of the aversion of tlie heart toward tlie only Being who can satisfy them. For, the same hatred of holiness, and disinclination toward spiritual things, which pre- vents a man from choosing God for his portion here, will prevent him hereafter. It is the bold fancy of an imaginative thinker,-^ that the material forces which lie beneath external nature are conscious of beins: bound down and confined tinder the crust of the earth, like the giant Enceladus under Mt. Etna, and that there are times when they roar from the depths where they are in bondage, and call aloud for free- dom ; when they rise in their might, and manifest themselves in the earthquake and the volcano. It will be a more fearful and terrific struggle, when the powers of an apostate being are roused in eter- nity ; when the then eternal sin and guilt has its hour of triumph, and the eternal reason and con- science have their hour of judgment and remorse; when the inner world of man's spirit, by this schism and antagonism within it, has a devastation and a ruin spread over it more awful than that of earth- quakes and volcanic eruptions.

We have thus, in this and the preceding dis- course, considered the kind and quality of that knowledge which every human being will possess

' BoCKSClIAMMF.R : On llif Will.

36 THE FUTURE STATE

in the eternal world. He will kuow God, and he will know himself, with a distinct, and accurate, and unceasing intelligence like that of the Deity. It is one of the most solemn and startling themes that can be presented to the human mind. V\e have not been occupied w^ith wdiat will be around a creature, what will be outside of a man, in the life to come ; but we have been examining what w^ill be luithin him. We have been considering w^hat he will think of beyond the tomb ; what his own feel- ings will be w^hen he meets God face to face. But a man's immediate consciousness determines his happiness or his misery. As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. We must not delude ourselves with the notion, that the mere arrangements and circum- stances of the spiritual world will decide our weal or our woe, irrespective of the tenor of our thoughts and affections ; that if we are only placed in pleas- ant gardens or in golden streets, all will be well. As a man thinketh in his heart, so will he be in his experience. This vision of God, and of our own hearts, will be either the substance of heaven, or the substance of hell. The great future is a world of open vision. Now, we see through a glass darkly, but then, face to face. The vision for every human creature will be beatiiic, if he is prepared for it ; will be terrific, if he is unprepared.

Does not the subject, then, speak with solemn warning to every one who knows that he is not pre- pared for the coming revelations that will be made

A SELF-COlSrSCIQUS STATE. 37

to him wlieu lie dies ; for this clear and accurate knowledo-e of God, and of liis own character ? Do you believe that there is an eternal world, and that the general features of this mode of existence have been scripturally depicted ? Do you suppose that your present knowledge of the holiness of God, and of your own sinfid nature, is eqaal to what it will be when your spirit returns to God who gave it? Are you prepared for the impending and inevitable disclosures and revelations of the day of judgment? Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the Eternal Son of God, who came forth from eternity eighteen centuries since, and went back into eternity, leaving upon record for human instruction an unexaggerated description of that invisil)le world, founded upon the personal knowl- edge of an eye-witness ?

Whoever thus believes, concerning the record which Christ and His apostles have left for the information of dim-eyed mortals who see only *' through a glass darkly," and who know only " in part," ought immediately to adopt their descriptions and ponder them long and well. We have already observed, that the great reason wliy the future state exerts so little influence over worldly men lies in the fact, that they, do not bring it into distinct view. They live absorbed in the interests and occupations of earth, and their future abode throws in upon them none of its solemn shadows and warnings. A clear luminous perception of the

;i& THE FUTURE STATE

nature and characteristics of that invisible world wLicli is soou to receive them, would make them thoughtful and anxious for their souls; for they would become aware of their utter unfitness, their entire lack of preparation, to see God face to face. Still, live and act as sinful men may, eternity is over and around them all, even as the firmament is bent over the globe. If theirs were a penitent and a believing eye, they would look up with adora- tion into its serene depths, and joyfully behold the soft gleam of its stars, and it would send down upon them the sweet influences of its constellations. They may shut their eyes upon all this glory, and feel only earthly influences, and continue to be "of the earth, earthy." But there is a time coming when they cannot but look at eternity ; when this firma- ment will throw them into consternation by the livid glare of its lightnings, and will compel them to hear the quick rattle and peal of its thunder ; when it will not aiford them a vision of glory and joy, as it will the redeemed and the holy, but one of despair and destruction.

There is only one shelter from this storm ; there is only one covert from this tempest. He, and only he, who trusts in Christ's blood of atone- ment, will be able to look into the holy counte- nance of God, and upon the dread record of his own sins, without either trembling or despair. The merits and righteousness of Christ so clothe the guilty soul, tliat it can endure the otherwise

A SELF-COls^SCIOUS STATE. 39

intolerable bvigbtness of God's pure throne and presence.

"Jesus! Tliy blood and righteousness, My beauty are, my glorious dress ; Mid flaming worlds, in these arrayed, With joy shall I lift up my head."

Amidst those great visions that are to dawn upon every human creature, those souls will be in perfect peace who trust in the Great Propitiation. In those great tempests that are to shake down the earth and the sky, those hearts will be calm and happy who are hid in the clefts of the Rock of Ages. Flee then to Christ, ye prisoners of hope. Make preparation to know even as you are known, by repentance toward God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. A voice comes to you out of the cloud, saying, " This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased ; hear ye Him." Remejnber, and forget not, that this knowledge of God and your own heavt is mevitaMe. At death, it will all of it flash upon the soul like lightning at midnight. It will fill the whole hori- zon of your being full of light. If you are in Christ Jesus, the light will not harm you. But if you are out of Christ, it will blast you. No sinful mortal can endure such a vision an instant, except as he is sprinkled with atoning blood, and clothed in the righteousness of the great Substitute and Surety for guilty man. Flee then to CHRIST, and so be prepared to know God and your own heart, even as you are known.

GOD'S EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN

Psalm cxxxix. 1-6. — " 0 Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, 0 Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me ; it is liigh, I cannot attain unto it."

One of the most remarkable characteristics of a rational being is the power of self-inspection. The brute creation possesses many attributes that are common to human nature, but it has no faculty that bears even the remotest resemblance to that of selt- examination. Instinctive action, undoubtedly, ap- proaches the nearest of any to human action. That wonderful power by which the bee builds up a structure that is not exceeded in accuracy, and regu- larity, and economy of space, by the best geometry of Athens or of Rome ; by which the beaver, after having chosen the very best possible location for it on the stream, constructs a dam that outlasts the work of the human engineer ; l)y which the faith-

god's exhaustive knowledge of man-. 41

ful dog contrives to perform many acts of affection, in spite of obstacles, and in the face of unexpected discouragements, — the itistmct^ we say, of the brute creation, as exhibited in a remarkably wide range of action and contrivance, and in a very varied and oftentimes perplexing conjuncture of circumstances, seems to bring man and beast very near to each other, and to furnish some ground for the theory of the materialist, that there is no essential difference between the two species of existences. But when we pass beyond the mere power of acting, to the ad- ditional power of surveying ov inspecting an act, and of forming an estimate of its relations to moral law, we find a faculty in man that makes him differ in kind from the brute. No brute animal, however high up the scale, however ingenious and sagacious he may be, can ever look back and think of what he has done, " his thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing him."

The mere power of performance, is, after all, not the highest power. It is the superadded power of calmly looking over the performance, and seeing wliat has been done, that marks the higher agency, and denotes a loftier order of existence than that of the animal or of material nature. If the mere abil- ity to work with energy, and produce results, con- stituted the highest species of power, the force of gravitation would be the loftiest energy in the uni- verse. Its range of execution is wider than that of any other created principle. But it is one of the

42 god's exhaustive kjstowledge of man.

lower and least important of agencies, because it is blind. It is destitute of the power of self-inspection. It does not know ivhat it does, or luhy. " Man," says Pascal,^ " is but a reed, and the weakest in all nature ; yet he is a reed that thinks. The whole ma- terial universe does not need to arm itself, in order to crush him. A vapor, a drop of water is enough to destroy him. But if the whole universe of mat- ter should combine to crush him, man would be more noble than that which destroyed him. For he would be conscious that he was dying, while, of the advantage which the material universe had obtained over him, that universe would know nothino-.'' The action of a little child is altogether nothing and van- ity compared with the energy of the earthquake or the lio-htnino:, so far as the exhibition of force and the mere power to act is concerned ; but, on the oth- er hand, it is more solemn than centuries of merely natural processes, and more momentous than all the material phenomena that have ever filled the celestial spaces, when we remember that it is the act of a thinking agent, and a self-conscious creature. The power to survey the act, when united with the po^v- er to act, sets mind infinitely above matter, and places the action of instinct, wonderful as it is, infi- nitely below the action of self-consciousness. The proud words of one of the characters in the old drama are strictly true :

• Pens^es : Grandeur de rbomnie, 6. Ed. Wetstein.

GOD

EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAj^. 43

" I am a nobler substance than the stars, Or are they better since they are bigger? I have a will and faculties of choice, To do or not to do ; and reason why I do or not do this : the stars have none. They know not why they shine, more than this taper, Kor how they work, nor what."'

But this characteristic of a rational beiog, though thus distinctive and common to every man that lives, is exceedingly marvellous. Like the air we breathe, like the light we see, it involves a mystery that no man has ever solved. Self-consciousness has been the problem and the thorn of the philoso- phic mind in all ages; and the mystery is not yet unravelled. Is not that a wonderful process by which a man knows, not some other thing but, himself f Is not that a strange act by which he, for a time, duplicates his own unity, and sets him- self to look at himself I All other acts of conscious- ness are comparatively plain and explicable. When we look at an object other than ourselves,— when we behold a tree or the sky,— the act of knowledge^ is much more simple and easy to be explained. For then there is something outside of us, and in front of us, and another thing than we are, at which we look, and which we behold. But in this act o^self- inspection there is no second thing, external, and extant to us, which we contemplate. That which is seen is one and the same identical object with

* Chapman : Byron's Conspiracy.

44 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

that wliicli sees. The act of knowledo-e which in all other instances requires the existence of two things, — a thing to be known and a thing to know, — in this instance is performed with only one. It is the individual soul that sees, and it is that very same individual soul that is seen. It is the indi- vidual man that knows, and it is that very identi- cal man that is known. The eyeball looks at the eyeball.

And when this power of self-inspection is con- nected with the power of memory, the mystery of human existence becomes yet more complicated, and its explanation still more baffling. Is it not exceed- ingly wonderful, that we are able to re-exhibit our own thoughts and feelings ; that we can call back what has gone clear by in our experience, and steadily look at it once more ? Is it not a mystery that we can summon before our mind's eye fefilings, j^urposes, desires, and thoughts, which occurred in the soul long years ago, and which, perhaps, until this moment, we have not thought of for years ? Is it not a marvel, that they come up with all the vividness with which they first took origin in our experience, and that the lapse of time has deprived them of none of their first outlines or colors ? Is it not strange, that we can recall that one particular feeling of hatred toward a fellow-man which rankled in the heart twenty years ago; that we can now eye it, and see it as plainly as if it were still thi'obbing ^\•it]lin us ; that we can feel guilty for it once more,

GODS EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAIS". 45

as if we were still cherisliing it ? If it were not so common, would it not be suiprising, that we can reflect upon acts of disobedience toward God which we committed in the days of childhood, and far back in the dim twilights of moral agency ; that we can re-act them, as it were, in our memory, and fill ourselves again with the shame and distress that attended their original commission ? Is it not one of those mysteries which overhang human exist- ence, and from which that of the brute is wholly free, that man can live his life, and act his agency, over, and over, and over again, indefinitely and for- ever, in his self-consciousness ; that he can cause all his deeds to pass and re-pass before his self-reflection, and be filled through and through with the agony of self-knowledge ? Truly such knowledge is too wonderful for me ; it is high, I cannot attain unto it. Whither shall I go from my own spu'it, and whith- er shall I flee from my oion presence. If I ascend up into heaven, it is there looking at me. If I make my bed in hell, behold it is there torturing me. If I take the winsfs of the mornino; and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there must I know myself, and acquit or condemn myself.

But if that knowledge whereby man knows him- self is mysterious, then certainly that whereby God knows him is far more so. That act whereby anoth- er being knows my secret thoughts, and inmost feel- ings, is most certainly inexplicable. That cognition whereby anotlier person understands what takes

4G god's exhaustive knowledge oe ma::^.

place in the corners of my heart, and sees the mi- nutest movements of my spirit, is surely high ; most surely I cannot attain unto it.

And yet, it is a truth of revelation that God searches the heart of man; that He knows his down- sitting and uprising, and understands his thought afar off; that He compasses his path and his lying- down, and is acquainted with all his ways. And yet, it is a deduction of reason, also, that because God is the creator of the human mind, He must per- fectly understand its secret agencies ; that He in whose Essence man lives and moves and has his being, must behold every motion, and feel every stirring of the human spirit. "He that planted the ear, shall He not hear ? He that formed the eye, shall He not see?" Let us, then, ponder the fact of God's exhaustive knowledge of man's soul, that we may realize it, and thereby come under its solemn power and impression. For all religion, all holy and reverential fear of God, rises and sets, as in an atmosphere, in the thought : " Thou God seest me."

I. In analyzing and estimating the Divine knowl- edge of the human soul, we find, in the first place, that God accuj'ately and exhaustively knows all that mail hiows of himself.

Every man in a Christian land, who is in the habit of frequenting the house of God, possesses more or less of that selt-knowledge of which we have spoken. He thinks of the moral character of

god's EXUAUSTIVE K]S^0WLEDGE of IIAN. 47

some of his own thoughts. He reflects upon the moral quality of some of his own feelings. He considers the ultimate tendency of some of his own actions. In other words, there is a part of his in- ward and his outward life with which he is uncom- monly well acquainted ; of which he has a distinct perception. There are some thoughts of his mind, at which he blushes at the very time of their origin, because he is vividly aware what they are, and what they mean. There are some emotions of his heart, at which he trembles and recoils at the very moment of their uprising, because he perceives clearly that they involve a very malignant deprav- ity. There are some actings of his will, of whose wickedness he is painfully conscious at the very instant of their rush and movement. We are not called upon, here, to say how many of a man's thoughts, feelings, and determinations, are thus sub- jected to his self-inspection at the very time of their orio;in, and are known in the clear lio-ht of self- knowledge. We are not concerned, at this point, with the amount of this man's self-inspection and self-knowledge. We are only saying that there is some experience such as this in his personal history, and that he does know something of him- self, at the very time of action, with a clearness and a distinctness that makes him start, or blush, or fear.

Now we say, that in reference to all this intimate self-knowledge, all this best part of a man's infor-

di:8 god's exhaustive kj^towledge of mais^.

mation respecting liiin.'^elf, he is not superior to God. He may be certain that in no particular does he know more of himself than the Searcher of hearts knows. He may be an uncommonly thoughtful person, and little of what is done within his soul may escape his notice, — -nay, we will make the ex- treme supposition that he arrests every thought as it rises, and looks at it, that he analyzes every sen- timent as it swells his lieart, that he scrutinizes every purpose as it determines his will, — even if he should have such a thorough and profound self- knowledge as this, God knows him ecjually pro- foundly, and equally thoroughly. Nay more, this process of self-inspection may go on indefinitely, and the man may grow more and more . thoughtful, and obtain an everlastingly augmenting knowledge of what he is and what he does, so that it shall seem to him that he is going down so far along that path which the vulture's eye hath not seen, is penetrating so deeply into those dim and shadowy regions of consciousness where the external life takes its very first start, as to be beyond the reach of any eye, and the ken of any intelligence but his own, and then he may be sure that God understands the thought that is afar off, and deep down, and that at this lowest range and plane in his experience He besets him beliind and before.

Or, this man, like the most of mankind, may be an unreflecting person. Then, in this case, thoughts, feelings, and purposes are continuall}' rising uj)

god's exhaustive kk"Owledge oe man. 49

within his soul like the clouds aud exhalations of an evaporating deluge, aud at the time of their rise he subjects them to no scrutiny of conscience, and is not pained in the least by their moral character and sio;nificance. He lacks self-knowledo-e altofjeth- er, at these points in his history. But, notice that the fact that he is not self-inspecting at these points cannot destroy the fact that he is acting at them. The fact that he is not a spectator of his owu trans- gression, does not alter the fact that he is the au- thor of it. If this man, for instance, thinks over his worldly affairs on God's holy day, aud perhaps in God's holy house, with such an absorption aud such a j)leasure that he entirely drowns the voice of conscience while he is so doing, and self-inspec- tion is banished for the time, it will not do for him to plead this absence of a distinct and painful con- sciousness of what his mind was actually doing in the house of God, and upon the Lord's day, as tlie palliative and excuse of his wrong thoughts. If this man, asraiu, indulij^es in an envious or a sensual emotion, with such an energy and entireness, as for the time being to preclude all action of the higher powers of reason and self-reflection, so that for the time being he is not in the least troubled by a sense of his wickedness, it will be no excuse for him at the eternal bar, that he was not thinking of his envy or his lust at the time when he felt it. And there- fore it is, that accountableness covers the whole field of human agency, and God holds us i-csponsi-

50 god's EXriAUSTIVE K]S"OWLEDGE OF MAN.

ble for our tliougbtless sin, as well as for our delib- erate transijression.

In the iustance, then, of the thoughtless man ; in the case where there is little or no self-examination ; God unquestionably knows the man as well as the man knows himself. The Omniscient One is cer- tainly possessed of an amount of knowledge equal to that small modicum which is all that a rational and immortal soul can boast of in reference to itself But the vast majority of mankind fall into this class. The self-examiners are very few, in comparison with the millions who possess the power to look into their hearts, but who rarely or never do so. The great God our Judge, then, surely knows the mass of men, in their down-sitting and uprising, with a knowledge that is equal to their own. And thus do we establish our first position, that God knows all that the man knows ; God's knowledge is equal to the very best part of man's knowledge.

In concluding this part of the discussion, we turn to consider some practical lessons suggested by it.

1. In the first place, the subject reminds us that toe are fearfully and wonderfullu made. When we take a solar microscope and examine even the common- est object — a bit of sand, or a hair of our heads — we are amazed at the revelation that is made to us. We had no previous conception of the wonders that are contained in the structure of even such ordinary things as these. But, if we should obtain a coi're- spoudiug view of our own mental and moral struc-

god's exhaustive knowledge of MAIN". 51

ture ; if we could subject our immortal natures to a microscopic self-examination ; we should not only be surprised, but we should be terrified. This ex- plains, in part, the consternation with which a crim- inal is filled, as soon as he begins to understand the nature of his crime. His wicked act is perceived in its relation to his own mental powers and facul- ties. He knows, now, what a hazardous thing it is to possess a free-will; what an awful thing it is to own a conscience. He feels, as he never did before, that be is fearfully and wonderfully made, and cries out : *'' O that I had never been born ! O that I had never been created a responsible being 1 these terrible faculties of reason, and will, and conscience, are too heavy for me to wield ; would that I had been created a worm, and no man, then, I should not have incurred the hazards under which I have sinned and ruined myseltV

The constitution of the human soul is indeed a wonderful one; and such a meditation as that which we have just devoted to its functions of self- examination and memory, brief though it be, is enough to convince us of it. And remember, that this constitution is n.ot peculiar to you and to me. It belongs to every human creature on the globe. The imbruted pagan in the fiery centre of Africa, who never saw a Bible, or heard of the Redeemer ; the equally imbruted man, woman, or child, who dwells in the slime of our own civilization, not a mile from where we sit, and hear the tidings of

52 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

mercy ; the filthy savage, and the yet filthier prof- ligate, are both of theiu alike with ourselves pos- sessed of these awful powers of self-knowledge and of memory.

Think of this, ye earnest and faithful laborers in the vineyard of the Lord. There is not a child that you allure into your Sabbath Schools, and your Mission Schools, that is not fearfully and wonder- fully made ; and whose marvellous powers you are doing much to render to their possessor a blessing, instead of a curse. When Sir Humphrey Davy, in answer to an inquiry that had been made of him respecting the number and series of his discoveries in chemistry, had gone through with the list, he added : " But the greatest of my discoveries is Michael Faraday." This Michael Faraday was a poor boy employed in the menial services of the laboratory where Davy made those wonderful dis- coveries by which he revolutionized the science of chemistr}-, and whose chemical genius he detected, elicited, and encouraged, until he finally took the place of his teacher and patron, and acquired a name that is now one of the influences of England. Well might he say : " My greatest discovery was when I detected the wonderful powers of Michael Faraday." And never will you make a greater and more beneficent discovery, than when, under the thick scurf of pauperism and vice, you detect the liuman soul that is fearfully and wonderfully made ; than when you elicit its powers of s^lf-consciousnesjs

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 53

and of memory, aud, iiistrnmeutally, dedicate them to the service of Christ aud the Church.

2. In the second place, we see from the subject, that thoughtlessness in sin will never excitse sin. There are degrees in sin. A deliberate, self-con- scious act of sin is the most intense form of moral evil. When a man has an active conscience ; when he -distinctly thinks over the nature of the trans- gression which he is tempted to commit; when he sees clearly that it is a direct violation of a com- mand of God which he is about to engage in ; when he says, "I know that this is positively forbidden by my Maker and Judge, but I will do it^'' — 'we have an instance of the most heaven-darinof sin. This is deliberate and wilful transo-ression. The servant knows his lord's will and does it not, and he shall be beaten with " many stripes,"' says Christ.

But, such sin as this is not the usual form. Most of human transgressions are not accompanied with such a distinct apprehension, and such a deliberate determination. The sin of ignorance and thought- lessness is the species which is most common. Men, generally, do not first think of what they are about to do, and then proceed to do it ; but they first pro- ceed to do it, and then think nothing at all about it.

But, thouo-htlessness will not excuse sin ; thouii;h it is a somewhat less extreme form of it, than de- liberate transgression. Under the Levitical law, the sin of ignorance, as it was called, was to be ex-

54 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

plated by a somewhat different sacrifice from that offered for the wilful and deliberate sin ; but it must be expiated. A victim must be offered for it. It was guilt before God, and needed atonement. Our Lord, in His prayer for His murderers, said, " Father forgive them, for they know not what they do." The act of crucifying the Lord of glory was certainly a sin, and one of an awful nature. But the authors of it were not fully aware of its import. They did not understand the dreadful significance of the crucifixion of the Sou of Grod, as we now un- derstand it, in the lio-ht of eis^hteen centuries. Our Lord alludes to this, as a species of mitigation ; while yet He teaches, by the very prayer which He puts up for them, that this ignorance did not ex- cuse His murderers. He asks that they may be forgiven. But where there is absolutely no sin there is no need of forgiveness. It is one of our Lord's assertions, that it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gomorrah, in the day of judgment, than it will be for those inhabitants of Palestine who would not hear the words of His apostles, — because the sin of the former was less deliberate and wilful than that of the latter. But He would not have us infer from this, that Sodom and Gomorrah ai'e not to be 2:)unished for sin. And, finally, He sums up the whole doctrine upon this point, in the declara- tion, that " he who knew his master's will and did it not shall be beaten with many stripes ; but he who knew not his master's will and did it not shall

GODS EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN. 65

be beaten with few stripes." The sin of thoughtless- ness shall be beaten with fewer stripes than the sin of deliberation, — but it shall be beaten, and therefore it is sin.

The almost univei-sal indifference and thoug-ht- lessness with which men live on in a worldly and selfish life, will not excuse them in the day of ac- curate accounts. And the reason is, that they are capable of thinhing upon the law of God ; of think- ing upon their duties ; of thinhing upon their sins. They possess the wonderful faculties of self-inspec- tion and memory, and therefore they are capable of bringing their actions into light. It is the com- mand of God to every man, and to every rational spirit everywhere, to walk in the light, and to be a child of the light. We ought to examine ourselves ; to understand our ruling motives and abiding pur- poses; to scrutinize our feelings and conduct. But if we do little or nothing of this, we must not ex- pect that in the day of judgment we can plead our thoughtless ignorance of what we were, and what we did, here upon earth, as an excuse for our dis- obedience. God expects, and demands, that every one of His rational creatures should be all that he is capable of being. He gave man wonderful fiic- ulties and endowments, — ten talents, five talents, two talents, — and He will require the whole origi- nal sum given, together with a faithful use and im- provement of it. The very thoughtlessness then, particularly under the Gospel dispensation, — the

58 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

very neglect and non-use of the power of self- inspection, — will go in to constitute a part of the sin that will be punished. Instead of being an excuse, it will be an element of the condemnation itself.

3. In the third place, even the sinner himself oiiglit to rejoice in tlie fact that God is the Searcher of the heart. It is instinctive and natural, that a transgressor should attempt to conceal his charac- ter from his Maker ; but next to his sin itself, it would be the greatest injury that he could do to himself, should he succeed in his attempt. Even after the commission of sin, there is every reason for desiring that Grod should compass our path and lying down, and be acquainted with all our ways. For, He is the only being who can forgive sin ; tlie only one who can renew and sanctify the heart. There is the same motive for having the disease of the soul understood by God, that there is for hav- ing the disease of the body examined by a skilful physician. Nothing is gained, but every thing is lost, by ignorance.

The sinner, therefore, has tlie strongest of motives for rejoicing in the truth that God sees him. It ought not to be an unwelcome fact even to him. For how can his sin be pardoned, unless it is clear- ly understood by the pardoning power? How can his soul be puriified from its inward cor- ruption, unless it is searched by the Spirit of all holiness?

god's exhaustive knowledge of Mx\.N. 57

Instead, therefore, of being repelled hy such a. solemn truth as that which we have been discussing, even the natural man should be allured by it. For it teaches him that there is help for him in God. His own knowledge of his own heart, as we have seen, is very imperfect and very inadequate. But the Divine knowledge is thoroughly adequate. He may, therefore, devolve his case with confidence upon the unerring One. Let him take words upon his lips, and cry unto Him: "Search me, O Grod, and try me ; and see what evil ways there are in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Let him endeavor to come into possession of the Divine knowledge. There is no presumption in this. God desires that he should know himself as He knows him ; that he should get possession of His views upon this point; that he should see himself as He sees him. One of the principal sins which God has to charge upon the sinner is, that his apprehensions respecting his own character are in conflict with the Divine. Nothing would more certainly meet the approbation of God, than a renunciation of human estimates of human nature, and the adoption of those contained in the inspired word. Endeavor, therefore, to obtain the very same knowledge of your heart which God Himself possesses. And in this endeavor, He will assist you. The influences of the Holy Spirit to enlighten are most positively promised and proffered. Therefore be not repelled by the truth ; but be drawn by it to a deeper,

08 god's EX[IAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAi^.

truer knowledge of your heart. Lift up your soul in prayer, and beseech God to impart to you a pro- found knowledge of yourself, and then to sprinkle all your discovered guilt, and all your undiscovered guilt, with atoning blood. This is salvation ; first to know yourself, and then to know Christ as your Prophet, Priest, and King.

Psalm cxxxix. 1-6. — " 0 Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my down-sitting and mine uprising; thou understandest my thought afar off. Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways. For there is not a word in my tongue, but lo, 0 Lord, thou knowest it altogether. Thou hast Beset me behind and before, and laid thy hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me ; it is high, T cannot attain unto it."

In tlie preceding discourse upon this text, we di- rected attention to the fact that man is possessed of the power of self-knowledge, and that he cannot ultimately escape from using it. He cannot forever flee from his own presence ; he cannot, through all eternity, go away from his own spirit. If he take the wings of the morning and dwell in the utter- most parts of the earth, he must, sooner or later, know himself, and acquit or condemn himself.

Our attention was then directed to the fact, that God's knowledge of man is certainly equal to man's knowledge of himself. No man knows more of his own heart than the Searcher of hearts knows. Up to this point, certainly, the truth of the text is in- controvertible. God knows all that man knows.

II. We come now to the second position : That

00 GODS EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAN.

God aGGuratelij and exhaustively hrioios all that man might J hut does not, hnoiv of himself.

Althougli the Creator designed that every man should thoroughly understand his own heart, and gave him the power of self-inspection that he might use it faithfully, and apply it constantly, yet man is extremely ignorant of himself. Mankind, says an old writer, are nowhere less at home, than at home. Very few persons practise serious self-examination at all ; and none employ the power of self-inspec- tion with that carefulness and sedulity with which they ought. Hence men generally, and unrenewed men always, are unacquainted with much that goes on within their own minds and hearts. Though it is sin and self-will, though it is thought and feeling and purpose and desire, that is going on and taking place during! all these years of religious indiiference, yet the agent himself, so fiir as a sober reflection upon the moral character of the process, and a dis- tinct perception of the dreadful issue of it, are con- cerned, is much of the time as destitute of self- knowledge 2 A an irrational brute itself. For, were sinful men constantly self-examining, they would be constantly in torment; Men can be happy in sin, only so long as they can sin without thinking of it. The instant they begin to perceive and understand what they are doing, they begin to feel the fang of the worm. If the frivolous wicked world, wdiich now takes so nuich pleasure in its wickedness, could be forced to do here what it will be forced to do here-

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 61

after, namely, to eye its sin while it commits it, to tliiah of what it is doing while it does it, the l>il- lows of the lake of fire would roll in upon time, and from gay Paris and luxurious Vienna there would instantaneously ascend the wailing cry of Pande- monium.

But it is not so at present. Men here upon earth are continually thinking sinful thoughts and cher- ishing sinful feelings, and yet they are not contin- ually in hell. On the contrary, " they are not in trouble as other men are, neither are they plagued like other men. Their eyes stand out with fatness ; they have more than heart could wish," This proves that they are self-ignorant ; that they know neither their sin nor its bitter end. They sin with- out the consciousness of sin, and hence are happy in it. Is it not so in our own personal experience ? Have there not been in the past ten years of our own mental history long trains of thought, — sinful thought, — and vast processions of feelings and im- aginings,— sinful feelings and imaginings, — that have trailed over the spaces of the soul, but which have been as unwatched and unseen by the self-in- specting eye of conscience, as the caravans of the African desert have been, during the same period, by the eye of our sense ? We have not felt a pang of guilt every single time that we have"a thought a wrong thought ; yet we should have felt one inev- itably, had we scrutinized every such single thought. Our face has not flushed with, crimson in every par-

62 god's exhaustive E2«^0WLEDGE of 31AN.

ticular instance in which we have exercised a histfiil emotion; yet it would have done so had we care- fully noted every such emotion. A distinct self- knowledge has by no means run parallel with all our sinful activity ; has by no means been co-exten- sive with it. We perform vastly more than we in- spect. We have sinned vastly more than we have been aware of at the time.

Even the Christian, in whom this unreflecting spe- cies of life and conduct has given way, somewhat, to a thou2:htful and visfilant life, knows and acknowl- edges that perfection is not yet come. As he casta his eye over even his regenerate and illuminated life, and sees what a small amount of sin has been distinctly detected, keenly felt, and heartily con- fessed,i^n com^Darison with that large amount of sin whicli he knows he must have committed, during this long period of incessant action of mind, heart, and limbs, he finds no repose for his misgivings with respect to the final examination and account, except by enveloping himself yet more entirely in the ample folds of his Redeemer's righteousness ; except by hiding himself yet more profoundly in the cleft of that Kock of Ages which protects the chief of sinners from the unsuft'erable splendors and terrors of the Divine glory and holiness as it passes by. Even the Christian knows that he must have com- mitted many sins in thoughtless moments and hours, — many sins of which he was not deliberately thinking at the time of their commission, — and

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 63

must pray witli David, " Cleanse thou me from se- cret faults." The functions and operations of mem- ory evince that such is the case. Are we not some- times, in our serious hours when memory is busy, convinced of sins which, at the time of their com- mission, were wholly unaccompanied with a sense of their sinfulness ? The act in this instance was per- formed blindly, without self-inspection, and there- fore without self-conviction. Ten years, we will say, have intervened, — years of new activity, and immensely varied experiences. And now the magic power of recollection sets us back, once more, at that point of responsible action, and bids do what we did not do at the time, — analyze our performance and feel consciously guilty, experience the first sensa- tion of remorse, for what we did ten years ago. Have we not, sometimes, been vividly reminded that upon such an occasion, and at such a time, we were angry, or proud, but at the time when the emotion was swellino- our veins were not filled with that clear and painful sense of its turpitude which now attends the recollection of it ? The re-exhibi- tion of an action in memory, as in a mirror, is often accompanied with a distinct apprehension of its moral character that formed no part of the expe- rience of the ao-ent while absorbed in the hot and hasty original action itself And when we remem- ber how immense are the stores of memory, and what an amount of sin has been committed in hours of thoughtlessness and moral indifference, what

G-i god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

prayer is more natural and warm than tlie supplica- tion : " Search me O God, and try me, and see what evil ways there are within me, and lead me in the way everlasting."

But the careless, unenlightened man, as we have before remarked, leads a life almost entirely desti- tute of self inspection, and self-knowledge. He sins constantly. He does only evil, and that continually, as did man before the deluge. For he is constantly acting. A living self-moving soul, like his, cannot cease action if it would. And yet the current is all one way. Day after day sends up its clouds of sensual, worldly, selfish thoughts. Week after week pours onward its stream of low-born, corruj^t, un- spiritual feelings. Year after year accumulates that hardening mass of carnal-mindedness, and distaste for religion, which is sonietimes a more insuperable obstacle to the truth, than positive faults and vices which startle and shock the conscience. And yet the man tliinhs nothing about all this action of his mind and heart. He does not subject it to any self inspection. If he should, for but a single hour, be lifted up to the eminence from ^vhicl^ all this cur- rent of self-will, and moral agency, may be seen and surveyed in its real character and significance, he would start back as if l^rought to the brink of hell. But he is not thus lifted up. He continues to use and abuse his mental and his moral faculties, but, for most of his probation, with all the blindness and heedlessness of a mere animal instinct.

god's exhaustive knowledge of MA]!ir. 65

There is, tlien, a Tast amount of sin committed without self-inspection ; and, consequently, without any distinct perception, at the time, that it is sin. The Christian will find himself feeling guilty, for the first time, for a transgression that occurred far hack in the past, and will need a fresh application of atoning blood. The sinner will find, at some pe- riod or other, that remorse is fastening its tooth in his conscience for a vast amount of sinful thought, feeling, desire, and motive, that took origin in the unembarrassed days of religious thoughtlessness and worldly enjoyment.

For, think you that the insensible sinner is always to be thus insensible, — that this power of self-in- spection is eternally to " rust unused ?" What a tremendous revelation will one day be made to an unreflecting transgressor, simply l^ecause he is a man and not a brute, has lived a human life, and is en- dowed with the power of self-knowledge, whether he has used it or not ! "What a terrific vision it will be for him, when the limitless line of his sins which lie has not yet distinctly examined, and thought of, and repented of, shall be made to pass in slow pro- cession before that inward eye which he has wicked- ly kept shut so long ! Tell us not of the disclosures that shall be made when the sea shall give up the dead that are in it, and the graves shall open and surrender their dead ; what are these material dis- closures, when compared with the revelations of self- knowledge ! What is all this 'external display,

66 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

soTD.bre and terrible as it will t)etotlie outward eye, when compared with all that internal revealing that will be made to a hitherto thoughtless soul, when, of a sudden, in the day of judgment, its deep- est caverns shall heave in unison with the material convulsions of the day, and shall send forth to judg- ment their long slumbering, and hidden iniquity ; when the sepulchres of its own memory shall burst open, and give up the sin that has long lain buried there, in needless and guilty forgetfulness, awaiting this second resurrection !

For (to come back to the unfolding of the sub- ject, and the movement of the argument), God per- fectly knows all that man might, but does not, know of himself Though the transgressor is ignorant of much of his sin, because at the time of its commis- sion he sins blindly as well as wilfully, and unre- flectingly as well as freely ; and though the trans- gressor has forgotten much of that small amount of sin of which he was conscious, and by whicb he was pained, at the time of its perpetration ; though on the side of man the powers of self inspection and mem- ory have accomplished so little towards the preser- vation of man's sin, yet God knows it all, and re- members it all. He compasseth man's path, and his lying-down, and is acquainted with all his ways. " There is nothing covered, therefore, that shall not be revealed, neither hid that shall not be known. Whatsoever ye liave spoken in darkness shall be heard in the liglit ; and that which ye have spoken

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. G7

in the ear in closets shall be proclaimed upon tlie house-tops." The Creator of the human mind has control over its powers of self-inspection, and of memory ; and when the proper time comes He will cojnpel these endowments to perform their legiti- mate functions, and do their appointed work. The torturing self-survey will begin, never more to end. The awful recollection will commence, endlessly to go on.

One principal reason why the Biblical represen- tations of human sinfulness exert so little influence over men, and, generally speaking, seem to them to be greatly exaggerated and untrue, lies in the fact that the Divine knowledge of human character is in advance of the human knowledge. Grod's con- sciousness and cognition upon this subject is ex- haustive ; while man's self-knowledge is superficial and shallow. The two forms of knowledge, conse- quently, when placed side by side, do not agree, but conflict. There would be less difficulty, and less contradiction, if mankind generally were possessed of even as much self-knowledge as the Christian is possessed of. There would be no difficulty, and no contradiction, if the knowledge of the judgment- day could be anticipated, and the self-inspection of that occasion could commence here and now. But such is not the fact. The Bible labors, therefore, under the difficulty of possessing an advanced knowl- edge; the difficulty of being addressed to a mind that is almost entirely unacquainted with the

68 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

subject treated of. The Word of God knows man exhaustively, as God knows him ; and hence all its descriptions of human character are founded upon such a knowledge.. But man, in his self-ignorance, does not perceive their awful truth. He has not yet attained the internal correspondent to the Bibli- cal statement, — that apprehension of total depravity, that knowledge of the plague of the heart, which always and ever says "yea" to the most vivid descrip- tion of human sinfulness, and " amen" to God's heaviest malediction upon it. Nothing deprives the Word of its nerve and influence, more than this gen- eral lack of self inspection and self-knowledge. For, only that which is perceived to be true exerts an influence upon the human mind. The doctrine of human sinfulness is preached to men, year after year, to whom it does not come home with the dem- onstration of the Spirit and with power, because the sinfulness which is really within them is as yet unknown, and because not one of a thousand of their transgressions has ever been scanned in the light of self examination. But is the Bible untrue, because the man is ignorant? Is the sun black, be- cause the eye is shut ?

However ignorant man may be, and may desire and strive to be, of himself, God knows him altogeth- er, and knows that the rei^resentations of His word, respecting the character and necessities of human nature, are the unexaggerated, sober, and actual fact. Though most of the sinner's life of alienation

god's exhaustive kk"owledge of MAJS-. 69

from God, and of disobedience, has been a blind and a reckless agency, unaccompanied with self- scrutiny, and to a great extent passed from his mem- ory, yet it has all of it been looked at, as it welled up from the living centres of free agency and re- sponsibility, by the calm and dreadful eye of retrib- utive Justice, and has all of it been indelibly writ- ten down in the book of God's sure memory, with a pen of iron, and the point of a diamond.

And here, let us for a moment look upon the bright, as well as the dark side of this subject. For if God's exhaustive knowledge of the human heart waken dread in one of its aspects, it starts infinite hope in another. If that Being has gone down into these depths of human depravity, and seen it with a more abhorring glance than could ever shoot from a finite eye, and yet has returned with a cor- dial offer to forgive it all, and a hearty proffer to cleanse it all away, then we can lift up the eye in adoration and in hope. There has been an infinite forbearance and condescension. The worst has been seen, and that too by the holiest of Beings, and yet eternal glory is offered to us ! God knows, from personal examination, the worthlessness of human character, with a thoroughness and intensity of knowledge of which man has no conception ; and yet, in the light of this knowledge, in the very flame of this intuition, He has devised a plan of mercy and redemption. Do not think, then, because of your present ignorance of your guilt and corruption.

70 GODS ZXHArSTTTE KXOWUEIXtE OF ilA^T.

that the inoamatioTi and death of the Son of Gx^ was unnecessary", and that that eo<stly blood of atonement "which tou are treading under foot wet the rocks of Calvary for a peccadilla Could y t^ but for a moment only, knoir yourself aU*:»]'. and exhiiKL^ivih/, as the Author oi this Redemption knowB TOU, you would cry out. in the words of a :fer holier man than you are. ** I am undone." If TOU could but see guilt as Grod sees it, you w^ould also see with Him that nothing but an infinite Pas- sion can expiate it. If you cx^uld but iathom the htiman heart as God fathoms it, you w^ould kno\r as He knows, that nothing less than regeneration can purifr its fountains of undeanness. and cleanse it fiom its ingrain corruption.

Thus have we seen that God knows man alto- firether. — that He knows ail that man knows of hinv- s»el£ and all that man might but does not yet know of himself The Seaiv^her of hearts knows all the thou^^hts that we have thought upon, all the rejec- tions that we have reflected upon, all the experience that we have ourselves analyzed and inspected. And He also knows that &r larger part of our lifo w^hich we have not yet subjected to the scrutiny of selfexamination; — all those thoughts, feelings, de- sires, and motives, innumerable as they are, of which we took no heed at the time of their origin and ex- istence, and which we suppose, perhapsw we shall hear no more of again. Whither then shall we go frcffn. God's spirit \ or whither shall we flee frMn His

GODS EXHAUSTIVE KNOWLEDGE OF MAX, 71

presence and His knowledge I If we ascend up into lieaven, He is tliere, and knows us perfectly. If we make our bed in hell, beliold He is there, and reads the secret thous^hts and feelino-s of our heart. The darkness hideth not from Him ; our ignorance does not affect His knowledije : the nio-ht shineth as the day ; the darkness and the lio'ht are both alike to Him.

This o^reat truth which we have been considerino; obtains a yet more serious emphasis, and a yet more solemn power over the mind, when we take into view the c/niraeter of the Beins^ who thus searches our hearts, and is acquainted with all our ways. Who of us would not be filled with uneasiness, if he knew that an imperfect fellow-creature were look- ing constantly into his soul ? AVould not the flush of shame often burn upon our cheek, if we knew that a sinful man like ourselves were watching all the feelin2:s and thouo-hts that are risino- within us ? Should we not be more circumspect than we are, if men were able mutually to search each other's hearts ? How often does a man change his course of conduct, when he discovers, accidentally, that his nei2:hbor knows what he is doins;.

But it is not an imperfect fellow-man, it is not a perfect angel, who besets us behind and before, and is acquainted with all our ways. It is the immacu- late God himself. It is He before whom archangels veil their faces, and the burning seraphim cry, " Holy." It is He, in whose sight the pure cerulean

72 god's exuaustive kistowledge oe man.

lieavens are not clean, and whose eyes are a flame of fire devouring all iniquity. We are beheld, in all this process of sin, be it blind or be it intelli- gent, by infinite Purity. We are not, therefore, to suppose that God contemj)lates this our life of sin Avith the dull indifl:erence of an Epicurean deity ; that He looks into our souls, all this while, from mere curiosity, and with no moral emotion towards us. The God who knows us altogether is the Holy One of Israel, whose wrath is both real, and revealed, against all unrighteousness.

If, therefore, we connect the holy nature and pure essence of God with all this unceasing and unerring inspection of the human soul, does not the truth which we hav- e been considering speak with a bolder emphasis, and acquire an additional power to imj)ress and solemnize the mind? When we realize that the Being who is watching us at every instant, and in every act and element of our exist- ence, is the very same Being who revealed himself amidst the lightenings of Sinai as liating sin and not clearing the thoughtless guilty, do not our pros- ])ects at the bar of justice look dark and fearful ? For, who of the race of man is holy enough to stand such an inspection ? Who of the sons of men ^vill 2:)rove pure in such a furnace ?

Are we not, then, brought by this truth close up to the central doctrine of Christianity, and made to see our need of the atonement' and riofhteousness of the Redeemer ? IIow can we endure such a scru-

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 73

tiuy as God is instituting into our character and conduct ? What can we say, in the day of reckon- ing, when the Searcher of heai'ts shall make known to us all that He knows of us ? What can we do, in that day which shall reveal the thoughts and the estimates of the Holy One respecting us ?

It is j)erfectly plain, from the elevated central point of view where we now stand, and in the focal light in which we now see, that no man can be jus- tified before God uj^on the ground of personal char- acter; for that character, when subjected to God's exhaustive scrutiny, withers and shrinks away. A man may possibly be just before his neighbor, or his friend, or society, or human laws, but he is mis- erably self-deceived who supposes that his heart will appear righteous under such a scrutiny, and in such a Presence as we have been considering.^ However it may be before other tribunals, the apos- tle is correct when he asserts that " every mouth must be stopped, and the whole world plead guilty

' " It is easy,"— says one of the before our eyes, not according to keenest and most incisive of the- the inadequate imaginations of oh)gians, — "for any one in the our minds, but according to cloisters of the schools to indulge tlie descriptions given of him in himself in idle speculations on the Scriptures, whicli represent the merit of works to justify men; him as one whose refulgence hnt when he comes into the p7-es- eclipses the stars, whose purity ence of God., he must bid farewell makes all things appear polluted, to these amusements, for there and who searches tlie inmost soul the business is transacted with of his creatures, — let us so con- seriousness. To this point must ceive of the Judge of all the eartii, our attention be directed, if we and every one must present hini- wish to make any useful inquiry self as a criminal before Him, and concerning true righteousness: voluntarilyprostrate and humble How we can answer the celestial himself in deep solicitude con- Judge wiien h" shall call us to an cerning his absolution." account? Let us place that Judge Cai.vin : Institutes, iii. 12.

VJ: god's exhaustive knowledge of mak

before God." Before the Searcher of hearts, all mankind must appeal to mere and sovereign mercy. Justice, in this reference, is out of the question.

Now, in this condition of things, God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him might not perish, but have everlasting life. The Divine mercy has been manifested in a mode that does not permit even the guiltiest to doubt its reality, its sufficiency, or its sincerity. The argument is this. ' " If when we were yet sinners," aiidlcnowii to he such, in tlie jper- fect and exhaicstive manner tliat has heen described^ " Christ died for us, much more, being now justified by His blood, shall we l)e saved from wrath through Him." Appropriating this atonement which the Searcher of hearts has Himself pf ovided for this very exigency, and which He knows to be thoroughly adequate, no man, however guilty, need fear the most complete disclosures which the Divine Omnis- cience will have to make of human character in the day of doom. If the guilt is " infinite upon infinite," so is the sacrifice of the God-man. Who is he that condemneth ? it is the Son of God that died for sin. Who shall lay anything to God's elect ? it is God that justifieth. And as God shall, in the last day, summon u]> from the deep places of our souls all of our sins, and bring us to a strict account for every- thing, even to the idle words that we have spoken, 'we can look Him full in the eye, without a thought of fear, and witli love unutterable, if we are really

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 75

relying upon tlie atoning sacrifice of Christ for jus- tification. Even in that awful Presence, and under that Omniscient scrutiny, " there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus."

The great lesson, then, taught by the text and its unfolding, is tlie importance of attaining self- hiiowledge here upon earth, and while there remaineth a sacrifice for sins. The duty and wisdom of every man is, to anticipate the revelations of the judgment day ; to find out the sin of his soul, while it is an accepted time and a day of salvation. For we have seen that this self-inspection cannot ultimately be escaped. Man was made to know himself, and he must sooner or later come to it. Self-knowledge is as certain, in the end, as death. The utmost that can be done, is to postpone it for a few days, or years. The article of death and the exchange of worlds will pour it all in, like a deluge, u2:>on every man, whether he mil or not. And he who does not wake up to a knowledge of his heart, until he enters eternity, wakes up not to pardon but to despair.

The simple question, then, which meets us is : Wilt thou know thyself here and novj^ that thou mayest accej^t and feel God's pity in Christ's blood, or wilt thou keep within the screen, and not know thyself until beyond the grave, and then feel God's judicial .wrath 'i The self-knowledge, remember, must come in the one way or the other. It is a simple question of time ; a simple question whether it shall

76 god's exhaustive knowledge of man.

come here in tliis world, wliere the blood of Christ " freely flows," or in the future world, where " there remaiueth no more sacrifice for sin." Turn the mat- ter as we will, this is the sum and substance, — a sinful man must either come to a thorough self- knowledge, with a hearty repentance and a joyful pardon, in this life ; or he must come to a tliorough self-knowledge, with a total despair and an eternal damnation, in the other. God is not mocked. God's great pity in the blood of Christ must not be trifled with. He who refuses, or neglects, to institute that self-examination which leads to the sense of sin, and the felt need of Christ's work, by this very fact proves that he does not desire to know his own heart, and that he has no wish to repent of sin. But he who will not even look at his sin, — what does not he deserve from that Being who poured out His own blood for it ? He who refuses even to open his eyes upon that bleeding Lamb of God, — what mnst not he expect from the Lion of the tribe of Judah, in the day of judgment ? He who by a life of apathy, and indifference to sin, puts himself out of all relations to the Divine pity, — what must he experience in eternity, but the operations of stark, unmitigated law ?

Find out vour sin, then. God will foro-ive all that is found. Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. The great God delights to forgive, and is waiting to forgive. But, 6'//^ must he seen hy the sinner, hefore it can he imrdoiied hy

god's exhaustive knowledge of man. 77

the Judge. If you refuse at this point ; if you liide yourself from yourself; if you preclude all feeling and conviction upoii tlie subject of sin, by remain- ing ignorant of it ; if you continue to live an easy, thoughtless life in sin, then you cannot be forgiven, and the measure of God's love with which He would have blessed you, had you searched yourself and repented, will be the measure of God's righteous wrath with which He will search you, and condemn you, because you have not.

ALL MANKIND GUTLTT; OR, EYERY MAN KNOWS MORE THAN HE PRACTISES

Romans L 24. — " When they knew God, they glorified him not as God."

The idea of God is the most important and com- prehensive of all the ideas of which the human mind is possessed. It is the foundation of religion ; of all right doctrine, and all right conduct A cor- rect intuition of it leads to correct religious theories and practice ; while any erroneous or defective view of the Supreme Being will pervade the whole pro- vince of religion, and exert a most pernicious -in- fluence upon the entire character and conduct of men.

In proof of this, we have only to turn to the open- ing chapters of St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans. Here we find a profound and accurate account of the process by which human nature becomes corrupt, and runs its downward career of unbelief, vice, and sensuality. The apostle traces back the horrible depravity of the heathen w^orld, which he depicts with a pen as sharp as that of Juvenal, but with none of Juvenal's bitterness and vitriolic sarcasm,

ALL MANKIND GUILTY. 79

to a distorted and false conception of tlie being and attributes of God. He does not, for an instant, con- cede that this distorted and false concej^tion is founded in the original structure and constitution of the human soul, and that this moral is^norance is necessary and inevitable. This mutilated idea of the Supreme Being was not inlaid in the rational creature on the morning of creation, when God said, " Let us make man in our image, after our likeness." On the contrary, the apostle affirms that the Crea- tor originally gave all mankind, in the moral con- stitution of a rational soul and in the works of cre- ation and providence, the media to a correct idea of Himself, and asserts, by implication, that if they had always employed these media they would have always possessed this idea. " The wrath of God," he says, " is revealed from heaven against all un- godliness and unrighteousness of men who hold the truth in unrighteousness ; because that which may be known of God is manifest in them, for God hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible thing-s of him, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clear- ly seen from the creation of the world, being under- stood by the things that are made, so that they are without excuse ; because that when they hiew God, they glorified him not as God" (E,om. i. 18-21). From this, it appears that the mind of man has not kept what was committed to its charge. It has not employed the moral instrumentalities, nor elicited the moral ideas, with which it has been furnished.

80 ALL MANKIND GUILTY.

And, notice tliat the apostle does not confine this statement to those who live within the pale of Rev- elation. Plis description is unlimited and universal. The affirmation of the text, that " when man knew God he glorified him not as God," aj^plies to the Gentile as well as to the Jew. Nay, the primary reference of these statements was to the pagan world. It was respecting the millions of idolaters in cultivated Greece and Rome, and the millions of idolaters in barbarous India and China, — it was re- specting the whole world lying in wickedness, that St. Paul remarked : " The invisible things of God, even his eternal power and Godhead, are clearly seen from the creation of the world down to the present^ moment, being understood by the things that are made ; so tlicvt they are loitJiout exGuseP

When Napoleon was returning from his cam- paign in Egypt and Syria, he. was seated one night upon the deck of the vessel, under the open canopy of the heavens, surrounded by his captains and gen- erals. The conversation had taken a skeptical direc- tion, and most of the party had combated the doc- trine of the Divine existence. Napoleon had sat silent and musing, apparently taking no interest in the discussion, when suddenly raising his hand, and pointing at the crystalline firmament crowded with its mildly shining planets and its keen glittering stars, he broke out, in those startling tones that so oftcm electrified a million of men : " Gentlemen, who made all that V The eternal power and Godhe.id

ALL MANKIN^D GUILTY. 81

of the Creator are impressed by the things that are made, and these words of Napoleon to his atheistic captains silenced them. And the same impression is made the world over. Go to-day into the heart of Africa, or into the centre of New Holland ; select the most imbruted pagan that can be found ; take him out under a clear star-lit heaven and ask liim who made all that, and the idea of a Superior Being, — superior to all his fetishes and idols, — pos- sessing eternal power and supremacy (^eLorrjg), im- mediately emerges in his consciousness. The in- stant the missionary takes this lustful idolater away from the circle of his idols, and brings him ftice to fiice with the lieavens and the earth, as Napoleon brought his captains, the constitutional idea dawns again, and the pagan trembles before the unseen Power.^

'_ The early Futhers, in their who is regarded as the wisest detence of the Christian doctrine philosopher of tliem all, plainly of one God, against the objections and openly defends the doctrine of the pagan advocate of the pop- of a divine monarchy, and denora- ular mythologies, contend that inates the Supreme Being, not the better pagan writers them- ether, nor reason, nor nature selves agree with the new relig- but, as he is, God; and asserts ion, m teaching that there is one that by him this perfect and ad- Supreme Being. Lactantius mirabfe world was made. And (Institutiones i. 5), after quoting Cicero follows Plato, frequently the Orphic poet^, Hesiod, Virgil, confessing the Deitv, and calls and Ovid, in proof that the him the Supreme Being, in his heathen poets taught the unity of treatise on the Laws." Tertul- tlie Supreme Deity, proceeds to man (De Test. An. c. 1 ; Adv. show that the better pagan phi- Marc. i. 10; Ad. Scap.' c. 2- losophers, also, agree with them Apol. c. 17), than whom no one m this. "Aristotle," he says, of the Christian Fathers was although he disagrees with more vehementlv opposed to the lamselt, and says many things philosophizing of the schools, that are selt-contradictory, yet earnestly contends that the doc- testifies that one Supreme Mind trine of the unitv of God is con- rules over the world. Plato, stitutional to the human niiud

82

ALL MANKIND GULLTY

But it will be objected that it is a very dim, aud inadequate idea of the Deity that thus rises in the pagan's mind, and that therefore the apostle's affir- mation that he is " without excuse " for beins: an idohiter and a sensualist requires some qualification. This imbruted creature, says the objector, does not possess the metaphysical conception of God as a

" God," he says, " proves himself to be God, and the one only God, by the very fact that lie is known to all nations ; for the existence of any other deity than He would first have to be demonstrated. The God of the Jews is the one whom the souls of men call their God. We worship one God, the one whom ye all naturally know, at whose lightnings and thunders ye tremble, at whose benefits ye rejoice. Will ye that we prove the Divine existence by the wit- ness of the soul itself, which, al- tiiough confined by the prison of the body, although circumscribed by bad training, although ener- vated by lusts and passions, al- though made the servant of false gods, yet when it recovers itself as from a surfeit, as from a slum- ber, as from some infirmity, and is in its proper condition of sound- ness, calls God by this name only, because it is the proper name of the true God, ' Great God,' 'good God,' and 'God grant' [deus, not dii], are words in every mouth. Tlie soul also witnesses tliat He is its judge, when it says, ' God sees,' * I com- mend to God,' 'God shall recom- pense me.' 0 testimony of a soul naturally Cliristian (i. e., mono- theistic]! Finally, in pronounc- ing these woi-ds, it looks not to the Roman capitol, l)ut to heav- en; for it knows tlie dwelling- place of tlie true Gud : from Him

and from thence it descended." Calvin (Inst. i. 10) seems to have had these statements in his eye, in the following remarks: "In almost all ages, religion has been generally corrupted. It is true, indeed, that tlie name of one Su- preme God has been iiniversaljy known and celebrated. For thdse who used to worship a multitude of deities, whenever they spake according to the genuine sense of nature, used simply the name of God in the singular number, as though they were contented with one God. And this was wisely remarked by Justin Martyr, who for this ])urpose wrote a book ' On the Monarchy of God,' in which he demonstrates, from nu- merous testimonies, that the uni- ty of God is a principle univer- sally impressed on the hearts of men. Tertullian (Deldololatria) also proves tlie same point, from tiie common phraseology. But since all men, without exception, have become vain in their under- standings, all tlieir natural per- ception of the Divine Unity has only served to render them inex- cusable," , In consonance with these views, tlie Presbyterian Confession of Faith (eh.' i.) af- firms tliat " the light of nature, and tlie works of creation and ])rovidence, do so far mauifost the goodness, wisdom, and power of God, as to leave men inexcusa- ble,"

ALL MANKIND GUILTY. 83

Spirit, and of all his various attributes and qualities, like the dweller in Christendom. How then can he be brought in guilty before the same eternal bar, and be condemned to the same eternal punishment, with the nominal Christian ? The answer is plain, and decisive, and derivable out of the apostle's own statements. In order to establish the guiltiness of a rational creature before the bar of justice, it is not necessary to show that he has lived in the seventh heavens, and under a blaze of moral intelligence like that of the archangel Gabriel. It is only nec- essary to show that he has enjoyed some degree of moral light, and that he has not lived up to it. Any creature who knows more than he practises is a guilty creature. If the light in the pagan's intel- lect concerning God and the moral law, small though it be, is yet actually in advance of the incli- nation and affections of his heart and the actions of his life, he deserves to be punished, like any and every other creature, under the Divine government, of whom the same thing is true. Grades of knowl- edge vary indefinitely. No two men upon the planet, no two men in Christendom, possess pi-ecise- ly the same degree of moral intelligence. There are men walking the streets of this city to-day, un- der the full light of the Christian revelation, whose notions respecting God and law are exceedingly dim and inadequate ; and there are others whose views are clear and correct in a high degree. But there is not a person in this city, young or cild, rich

84 ALL MANKIJfD GUILTY.

or poor, ignorant or cultivated, in the purlieus of vice or the saloons of wealth, whose knowledge of God is not in advance of his own character and conduct. Every man, whatever be the grade of Lis intelligence, knows more than he puts in prac- tice. Ask the young thief, in the subterranean haunts of vice and crime, if he does not know that it is wicked to steal, and if he renders an honest answer, it is in the affirmative. Ask the most be- sotted soul, immersed and petrified in sensuality, if his course of life upon earth has been in accordance with his own knowledge and conviction of what is right, and required by his Maker, and he will an- swer No, if he answers truly. The grade of knowl- edge in the Christian land is almost infinitely var- ious ; but in every instance the amount of knowledge is greater than the amount of virtue. Whether he knows little or much, the man knows more than he performs ; and therefore his mouth must be stopped in the judgment, and he must plead guilty before God. He will not be condemned for not possessing that ethei'eal vision of God possessed by the sera- phim ; but he will be condemned because his per- ception of the holiness and the holy requirements of God was sufficient, at any moment, to rebuke his disregard of them ; because when he knew God in some degree, he glorified him not as God up to that degree.

And this principle will be applied to the pagan world. It is so a})plied liy tlie apostle Paul. He

ALL MANKIND GUILTY. 85

himself concedes that the Gentile has not enjoyed all the advantages of the Jew, and argnes that the nngodly Jew will be visited \^dth a more severe punishment than the ungodly Gentile. But he ex- j^ressly affirms that the pagan is unclej' law, and l-noics that he is ; that he shows the v/ork of the law that is written on the heai't, in the operations of an aceusina; and condemnino^ conscience. But the knowledo-e of law involves the knowledo-e of God in an equal degree. Who can feel liimself amenable to a moral law, without at the same time thinkins: of its Author ? The law and the Lawtriver are insej^arable. The one is the mirror and index of the other. If the eye opens dimly npon the command ment, it opens dimly uf)on the Sovereign ; if it per- ceives eternal right and law with clear and celestial vision, it then looks directly into the tace of God. Law and God are correlative to each other ; and just so far, consequently, as the heathen understands the law that is written on the heart does he a})pre- hend the Being who sitteth npon the circle of the heavens, and who impinges Himself upon the con- sciousness of men. This being so, it is plain that we can confront the ungodly pagan with the same statements witk which we confront the nngodly nominal Christian. We can tell him with positive- ness, wherever we find liim, be it npon the burning sands of Africa or in the frozen home of the Esqui- maux, that he knows more than he puts in practice. We will concede to him that the quantum of his

8G ALL MANKIND GUILTY

moral knowledge is very stinted and meagi-e ; but in the same breath we will remind him that small as it is, he has not lived up to it ; that he too has " come short "; that he too, knowing God in the dimmest, faintest degree, has yet not glorified him as God in the slightest, faintest manner. The Bible sends the ungodly and licentious pagan to hell, upon the same principle that it sends the ungodly and licentious nominal Christian. It is the principle enunciated by our Lord Christ, the judge of cpiick and dead, when he says, " He who knew his mas- ter's will [clearly], and did it not, shall be beaten with many stripes ; and lie \vlio knew not his mas- ter's will [clearly, but knew it dimly,] and did it not, shall be beaten with few stripes." It is the just principle enunciated by St. Paul, that " as many as have sinned ^^dthout [written] law shall also pej'ish without [written] law."^ And this is

' Tlie word nn-nTinvv-ai, in Rom. ion." If man liad been true to ii. 12, is opposed to the cuTijjtia all the principles and precepts of spoken of in Rom. i. 16, and natural religion, it would indeed therefore signifies eternal perdi- be religion enough for him. Hut tion, as that signifies eternal sal- ]ie lias not been thus true. Tlie vation. — Those theorists who re- entire list of vices aud sins recit- ject revealed religion, and remand ed by St. Paul, in the first chap- man back to the first principles ter of Romans, is as ctmtrary to of ethics and morality as the only natural religion, as it is to re- religion that he needs, send him vealed. And it is precisely be- to a tribunal that damns him. cause the pagan world has not "Tell me," says St. Paul, ''ye obeyed the princijiles of natural that desire to bo under tiie law, religion, and is under a curse and do ye not hear the law ? Tiiolaw a bondage therefor, that it is in is not of faith, but the man that perishing need of the truths of re- doeth them shall live by them, vealed religion. Little do those Circumcision verily protiteth if know what they are saying, when \}w\\ l-ccp \\\Q law; but if thou they propose to find a salvation be a breaker of tlie law, thy cir- for the pagan in the mere light cuiucisinii is miule uneircunicis- of natural reason aud conscience.

ALL MAXKUSTD GUILTY. 87

right and righteous ; and let all the universe say. Amen.

The doctrine taught in the text, that no human creature, in any country or grade of civilization, has ever glorified God to the extent of his knowledge of God, is very fertile in solemn and startling infer- ences, to some of which we now invite attention.

1. In the first place, it follows from this affirma- tion of the apostle Paul, that tlie entire lieathen tvorld is i)i a state of condemnation and perdition. He himself draws this inference, in saying that in the judgment " every mouth must be stopped, and the whole world become guilty before God."

The present and future condition of the heathen world is a subject that has always enlisted the in- terest of two very difierent classes of men. The Chnrch of God has pondered, and labored, and prayed over this subject, and will continue to do so imtil the millennium. And the disbeliever in Reve- lation has also turned bis mind to the consideration of this black mass of ignorance and misery, which welters upon th^ globe like a chaotic ocean ; these teemino; millions of barbarians and savao-es who

"What pagan lias ever realized the heathenism, hr.t a confession

trntlisof natural conscience, in his that tlie whole heathen world

inward character and his outward finds and feels itself to be guilty

life ? What pagan is there in all at the bar of natural reason and

the generations that will not be conscience? The accusing voice

found guilty before the bar of witliin theui wakes tlieir forebod-

natural religion? What heathen ings and fearful looking-for of Di-

will not need an atonement, for vine judgment, and tliey endeav-

his failure to live up even to the or to propitiate the offended

light of nature? Nay, what is Power by their olferings and sac-

the entire sacrificial cultus of rifices.

88 ALL MANKIND GUILTY.

render the aspect of the world so sad and so dai'k. The Church, we need not say, have accepted the Bib- lical theory, and have traced the lost condition of the pagan world, as the apostle Paul does, to their sin and transgression. They have held that every pagan is a rational being, and by virtue of this fact has known something of the moral law ; and that to the extent of the knowledge he has had, he is as guilty for the transgression of law, and as really un- der its condemnation, as the dweller under the light of revelation and civilization. The}^ have main- tained that every human creature has enjoyed suffi- cient li2:;ht. in the v/orkino^s of natural reason and conscience, and in the impressions that are made by the glory and the terror of the natural world above and around him, to render him guilty before the Everlastino^ Judcre. For this reason, the Church has denied that the pagan is an innocent creature, or that he can stand in the judgment before the Searcher of hearts. For this reason, the Church has believed the declaration of the apostle John, that '^ the whole wovld Heth in wickedness" (1 John V. 19), and has endeavored to obey the command of Him who came to redeem pagans as much as nom- inal Christians, to go and preach the gospel to eve?'// creature, because every creature is a lost creature.

But the disbeliever in Revelation adopts the theory of human innocency, and looks upon all the wretch- edness and ignorance of paganism, as he looks upon

ALL MANKIND GUILTY. 89

suffering, decay, and death, in the vegetable and animal worlds. Temporary evil is the necessary con- dition, lie asserts, of all finite existence ; and as de- cay and death in the vegetable and animal worlds only result in a more luxuriant vegetation, and an increased multiplication of living creatures, so the evil and woe of the hundreds of generations, and the millions of individuals, during the sixty centu- ries that have elapsed since the origin of man, will all of it minister to the ultimate and everlasting weal of the entire race. There is no need therefore, he affirms, of endeavoring to save such feeble and ignorant beings from judicial condemnation and eter- nal penalty. Such finiteness and helplessness can- not be put into relations to such an awful attribute as the eternal nemesis of God. Can it be, — he asks, — that the millions upon millions that have been born, lived their Ijrief hour, enjoyed their little joys and suffered their sharp sorrows, and then dropped into " the dark backward and abysm of time," have really been guilty creatures, and have gone down to an endless hell ?

But what does all this reasoning and querying imply ? Will the objector really take the position and stand to it, that the pagan man is not a ration- al and responsible creature ? that .he does not pos- sess sufficient knowledge of moral truth, to justify his being brought to the bar of judgment? Will he say that the population that knew enough to build the pyramids did not know enough to break

90 ALL MANKTT^D GUILTY.

the law of God ? Will he affirm that the civiliza- tion of Babylon and Nineveh, of Greece and Rome, did not contain within it enough of moral intelli- gence to constitute a foundation for reward8 and p^mishments ? Will he tell us that the people of Sodom and Gomorrah stood upon the same plane with the brutes that perish, and the trees of the field that rot and die, having no idea of God, know- ing nothing of the distinction between right and wrong, and never feeling the pains of an accusing conscience ? Will he maintain that the populations of India, in the midst of whom one of the most subtile and ingenious systems of pantheism has sprung up with the luxuriance and involutions of one of their own jungles, and has enervated the whole religious sentiment of the Hindoo race as opium has enervated their physical frame, — will he maintain that such an untiring and persistent men- tal activity as this is incapable of apprehending the first principles of ethics and natural religion, which, in comparison with the complicated and obscure ratiocinations of Boodhism, are clear as water, and lucid as atmospheric air? In other connections, this theorist does not speak in this style. In other connections, and for the purpose of exaggerating natural I'eligion and disparaging revealed, he en- larges upon the dignity of man, of every man, and eulogizes the power of reason which so exalts him in the scale of being. With Hamlet, he dilates in proud and swelling phrase : " What a piece of work

ALL MAJSfKIND GUILTY. 91

is man ! Hovy noble in reason ! liow infinite in fac- ulties ! in form and movicg, how express and ad- mirable ! in action liovv like an angel ! in apprehen- sion how like a god ! the beauty of the worhl ! the paragon of animals ! " It is from that very class of theorizers who deny that the heathen are in danger of eternal perdition, and who represent the whole missionary enterprise as a work of supererogation, that we receive the most extrava2;ant accounts of the natural powers and gifts of man. I\ow if these powers and o-ifts do belons; to human nature hy its constitution, they certainly lay a foundation for responsibility ; and all such theorists must either be al)le to show that the pagan man has made a right use of them, and has walked according to this large amount of truth and reason with which, ac- cording to their own statement, he is endowed, or else they consign him, as St. Paul does, to " the wrath of God which is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness, and unrighteousness of 7ne)i loho liold the truth in luirighteoiisnessy If you assert that the pagan man has had no talents at all committed to him, and can prove your assertion, and will stand by it, you are consistent in denying that he can be summoned to the bar of God, and be tried for eter- nal life or death. But if you concede that he has had one talent, or two talents, committed to his charge ; and still more, if you exaggerate his gifts and endow him with five or ten talents, then it is impossible for you to save him from the judgment

02 ALL IMAXKIND GUILTY.

to come, except you can prove ^perfect administra- tion and use of the trust.^

2. In the second place, it follows from the doc- trine of the text, that the degraded and hrutalized pojndation of large cities is in a state of cond-emna- tion and perdition.

There are heathen near our own doors whose re- ligious condition is as sad, and hopeless, as that of the heathen of Patagonia or Ne^v Zen land. The vice and crime that nestles and riots in the large cities of Christendom has become a common theme, and has lost much of its interest for the worldly mind by losing its novelty. The manners and wa}' of life of the outcast population of London and Paris have been depicted 1)y the novelist, and wak- ened a momentary emotion in the readers of fiction. But the reality is stern and dreadful, beyond ima- gination or conception. There is in the cess-pools of the great capitals of Christendom a mass of hu- man creatures who are born, who live, and who die, in moral putrefaction. Their existence is a contin- ued career of sin and woe. Body and soul, mind and heart, are given up to earth, to sense, to cor-

' Infidelity is constantly chang- that man is kindred to the apt),

'ingits ground. In the IStii cen- and within the spliero of pagan-

tury, tlie .skei)tic very generally ism does not possess sutficient

took the position ot' Lord Ilcrltert moral intelligence to constitute

of Cherhury, and maintained tliat him responsible. Like Luther's

the liglit of reason is very clear, drunken beggar on horseback, tlie

and is adequate to all tiie religions opponent of Revelation sways

needs of the soul. In the liltii from the position that man is a

century, he is now passing to the god, to tbe position that he is a

otiier extreme, and contending chimpanzee.

ALL MAISTKIISTD GUILTY. 93

ruption. They emerge for a brief season into the light of day, run their swift and fiery career of sin, and then disappear. Dante, in that wonderful Vis- ion which embodies so much of true ethics and the- ology, represents the wrathful and gloomy class as sinking down under the miry waters and continuing to breathe in a convulsive, suffocating manner, send- ing up bubbles to the surface, that mark the place where they are drawing out their lingering existence.^ Something like this, is the wretched life of a vicious population. As we look in upon the fermenting mass, the only signs of life that meet our view in- dicate that the life is feverish, spasmodic, and suffo- cating. The bubbles rising to the dark and turbid surface reveal that it is a life in death.

But this, too, is the result of sin. Take the atoms one by one that constitute this mass of pollution and misery, and you will find that each one of them is a self-moving and an unforced will. Not one of these millions of individuals has been necessitated by Almighty God, or by any of God's arrangements, to do wrong. Each one of them is a moral agent, equally with you and me. Each one of them is self-willed and S6^//-determined in sin. He does not like to retain religious truth in his mind, or to obey it in his heart. Go into the lowest haunt of vice and select out the most imbruted person there; bring to his remembrance that class of truths with which he is already acquainted by virtue of his

'Daxtk: Inferno, vii. 100-130.

94: ALL MANKLND GUILTY

rational nature, and acid to them that other' class of truths taught in Revelation, and you will find that he is predetermined against them. He takes sides, with all the depth and intensity of his being, with that sinfulness which is common to man, and which it is the aim of both ethics and the gospel to remove. This vicious and imbruted man loves the sin which is forbidden, more than he loves the holiness that is commanded. He inclines to the sin which so easily besets him, precisely as you and I incline to the bosom-sin which so easily besets us. We grant that the temptations that assail him are very power- ful ; but are not some of the temptations that beset you and me very powerful ? We grant that this wretched slave of vice and pollution cannot break off his sins by righteousness, without the renewing and assisting grace of God ; but neither can you or I. It is the action of Ids own will that has made him a slave. He loves his chains and his bondage, even as you and I naturally love ours; and this proves that his moral corruption, though assuming an outwardly more repulsive form than ours, is yet the same thing in principle. It is the rooted aversion of the human heart, the utter disinclina- tion of the human will, towards the purity and lioliness of God ; it is " the carnal mind which is enmity against God ; for it is not su])ject to the law of God, neither indeed can be " (Rom. viii. 7).

But there is no more convincing proof of the po- sition, that the degraded creature of whom we are

ALL MANKIND GUILTY. 95

speaking is a self-deciding and unforced sinner, than the fact that he resists eiforts to reclaim him. Ask these faithful and benevolent missionaries who go down into these dens of vice and pollution, to pour more light into tlie mind, and to induce these outcasts to leave their drunkenness and their de- bauchery,— ask them if they find that human nature is any different there from what it is elsewhere, so for as yielduuj to the claims of God and law is con- cerned. Do they tell you that they are uniforiuly successful in inducing these sinners to leave their sins? that they never find any self-will, any de- termined opposition to the holy law of purity, any preference of a life of licence with its woes here upon earth and hereafter in hell, to a life of self de- nial with its joys eternal l On the contrary, they testify that the old maxim upon which so many millions of the human family have acted : " Enjoy the present and jump the life to come," is the rule for this mass of population, of whom so very few can be persuaded to leave their cups and their orgies. Like the people of Israel, when expostulated with by the prophet Jeremiah for their idolatry and pol- lution, the majority of the degraded population of whom we are speaking, when endeavors have been made to reclaim them, have said to the philanthropist and the missionary : "There is -no hope: no ; for I have loved strangers, and after them I will go " ( Jer. ii. 25). There is not a single individual of them all who does not love the sin that isdestrovini^: him.

96 ALL MANKTXD GUILTY.

more than lie loves tlie holiness that Avould save him. Notwithstaiiiliug all the horrible accompani- ments of sin, — the filth, the disease, the poverty, the sickness, the pain of both body and mind, — the wretched creature prefers to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season, rather than come out and separate himself from the unclean thing, and begin that holy warfare and obedience to which his God and his Saviour invite him. This, we repeat, proves that the sin is not forced upon this creature. For if he hated his sin, nay if he felt weary and heavy laden in the least de2:ree because of it, he mio-ht leave it. There is a free grace, and a proffered assistance of the Holy Ghost, of which he might avail himself at any moment. Had he the feeling of the weary and penitent prodigal, the same father's house is ever op.en for his return ; and the same father seeing him on his return, though still a great way off, Avould run and fall upon his neck and kiss him. But the heart is hard, and the spirit is utterly selfish^ and the will is perverse and determined, and therefore the natural knowledge of God and his law which this sinner possesses by his very constitution, and the added knowledge which his birth in a Christian land and the efforts of benevolent Chris- tians have imparted to him, are not strong enough to overcome his inclination, and his preference, and ineluce him to break off his sins by righteousness. To him, also, as well as to every sin-loving man, these solemn words will be spoken in the day of

ALL ]mank:i]s^d guilty. 97

final adjudication r "The wrath of God is revealed from heaven ao;ainst all uncrodliness, and unri<>'ht- eousness, of men who hold down (xarex^W) the truth in unrighteousness ; because that which may be known of God is manifest tvithm them ; for God hath shewed it unto them. For the invisible things of him, even his eternal power and God- head, are clearly seen from tlie cre^ition of the world, being understood by the things that are made; so that they are without excuse, because that when they knew God they glorified him not as God."

3. In the third and last place, it follows from this doctrine of the apostle Paul, as thus unfolded, that that portion of the enliglitened aiid cultioated 'po])\ilation of Christian lands who have not he- lieved on the Lord Jesus Ohrist, and repented of 6'm, are in tlie deepest state of condemnation and perdition.

" Behold thou art called a Jew, and restest in the law, and makest thy boast of God, and knowest his will, and approvest the things that are more excellent, being instructed out of the law, and art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a lio-lit of them which are in darkness : an instruct- or of the foolish, a teacher of babes : which hast the form of knowledge, and of the truth, in the law : thou therefore that teachest another teachest thou not thyself? thou that makest thy boast of the law, throuo;h breakino; the law dishonorest thou God ? "

98 ALL MA:NKmD GUILTY.

If it be true that the pagan knows more of God and the moral law than he has ever i)iit in prac- tice; if it be true that the imbruted child of vice and pollution knows more of God and the moral law than he has ever put in practice ; how much more fearfully true is it that the dweller in a Chris- tian home, the visitant of the house of God, the possessor of the written Word, the listener to prayer and oftentimes the subject of it, possesses an amount of knowledge resj^ecting his origin, his duty, and his destiny, that infinitely outruns his character and his conduct. If eternal punishment will come down upon those classes of mankind who know but comparatively little, because they have been unfaithful in that which is least, surely eternal punishment will come down upon that more fa- vored class who know comparatively much, because they have been unfaithful in that which is much. " If these things are done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry ? "

The great charge that will rest against the crea- ture when he stands before the final bar will be, that "when he knew God, he glorified Him not as God." And this will rest heaviest against those whose knowledge was the clearest. It is a great prerogative to l)e able to know the infinite and glonous Creator ; but it brings with it a most sol- emn responsibility. That blessed Being, of right, challenges the homage and obedience of Ilis crea- ture. What he asks of the angel, that he asks of

ALL MAISTKD^D GUILTT. 99

man; tliat lie should glorify God in his body and spirit which are His, and should thereby enjoy God forever and forever. This is the condemnation un- der which man, and especially enlightened and cultivated man, rests, that while he knows God he neither glorifies Him nor enjoys Him. Our Re- deemer saw this with all the clearness of the Divine Mind; and to deliver the creature from the dread- ful guilt of his self-idolatry, of his disposition to worship and love the creature more than the Crea- tor, He became incarnate, suffered and died. It can- not be a small crime, that necessitated such an ap- paratus of atonement and Divine influences as that of Christ and His redemption. Estimate the guilt of coming short of the glory of God, which is the same as the guilt of idolatry and creature-worship, by the nature of the provision that has been made to cancel it. If you do not actually feel that this crime is great, then argue yourself towards a juster view, by the consideration that it cost the blood of Christ to expiate it. If you do not actually feel that the guilt is great, then argue yourself towards a j aster view, by the reflection that you have known God to be supremely great, supremely good, and sn2:>remely excellent, and yet you have never, in a single feeling of your heart, or a single thought of your mind, or a single purpose of your will, lionored Him. It is honor, reverence, worship, and love that He requires. These you have never rendered ; and there is an infinity of guilt in the fact. That guilt

100 ALL MAIfKEXD GUILTY.

will be forgiven for Christ's sake, if you ask for for- giveness. But if you do not ask, tlien it will stand recorded against you for eternal ages : " When he, a rational and immortal creature, knew God, he glo- rified Him not as God."

SIN liT THE HEART THE SOUECE OF ERROR IN THE HEAD.

Romans i. 28. — " As tliey did not like to retain God in their kno\y ledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind."

In tlie opening of the most logical and systematic treatise in the 'New Testament, the Epistle to the Komans, the apostle Paul enters upon a line of ar- gument to demonstrate the ill-desert of every hu- man creature without exception. Jn order to this, he shows that no excuse can be urged upon the ground of moral ignorance. He explicitly teaches that the pagan knows that there is one Supi-erae God (Eom. i. 20) ; that He is a spirit (Rom. i. 23) ; that He is holy and sin-hating (Rom. i. 18); that He is worthy to be worshipped (Rom. i. 21, 25) ; and that men ouc»;ht to be thankful for His benefits (Rom. i. 21). He affirms that the heathen knows that an idol is a lie (Rom. i. 25) ; that licentious- ness is a sin (Rom. i. 26, 32) ; that envy, malice, and deceit are wicked (Rom. i. 29, 32) ; and that those who practise such sins deserve eternal pun- ishment (Rom. i 32).

In these teachings and assertions, the apostle has

102 SIN IN THE HEART THE

attributed no small amount and degree of moral knowledge to man as man, — to man outside of Rev- elation, as well as under its shining light. The question very naturally arises : How comes it to pass that this knowledge which Divine inspiration pos- tulates, and affirms to be innate and constitutional to the human mind, should become so vitiated? The majority of mankind are idolaters and poly- theists, and have been for thousands of years. Can it be that the truth that there is only one God is native to the human spirit, and that the pagan ''k/iows^'' this God? The majority of men are earthly and sensual, and have been for thousands of years. Can it be that there is a moral law written upon their hearts forbidding such carnality, and enjoining purity and holiness ?

Some theorizers argue that because the pagan man has not obeyed the law, therefore he does not know the law ; and that because he has not revered and worshipped the one Supreme Deity, therefore he does not possess the idea of any such Being. They look out upon the heathen populations and see them bowing down to stocks and stones, and witness their immersion in the abominations of heathenism, and conclude that these millions of human beim^s really know no better, and that therefore it is unjust to hold them responsible for their polytheism and their moral corruption. But why do they confine this sj^ecies of reasoning to the pagan world? Why do they not bring it into nominal Christendom, and a]>

SOTJECE OF ERROR IN THE HEAD. 103

ply it there ? Why does not this theorist go iuto the midst of European civilization, into the heart of London or Paris, and gauge the moral knowledge of the sensualist by the moral character of the sensualist? Why does he not tell us that be- cause this civilized man acts no better, therefore he knows no better ? Why does he not maintain that because this voluptuary breaks all the com- mandments in the decalogue, therefore he must be ignorant of all the commandments in the decalogue ? that because he neither fears nor loves the one only God, therefore he does not know that there is any such Beino-?

It will never do to estimate man's moral knowl- edo-e by man's moral character. He knows more than he practises. And there is not so much dif- ference in this particular between some men in nominal Christendom, and some men in Heathen- dom, as is sometimes imagined. The moral knowl- edf^e of those who lie in the lower strata of Chris- tian civilization, and those who lie in the higher strata of Paganism, is probably not so very far apart. Place the imbruted outcasts of our metro- politan population beside the Indian hunter, with his belief in the Great Spirit, and his worship with- out images or pictorial representations ; ^ beside the stalwart Mandino:o of the hio;h table-lands of Cen-

' " There are no profane words ing of the ' Great Spirit.' " — Fok- in the (Iowa) Indian hxny;nage; eiptX Missionary: May, 1863, p. no light or profane way of speak- 337.

104 SIN IN THE HEART THE

tral Africa, with liis active and enterprising spirit, carrying on manufactures and trade with all the keenness of any civilized worldling ; beside the na- tive merchants and lawyers of Calcutta, who still cling to their ancestral Boodhism, or else substitute French infidelity in its place ; place the lowest of the highest beside the highest of tlie lowest, and tell us if the difference is so very marked. Sin, like ho- liness, is a mighty leveler. The " dislike to retain God " in the consciousness, the aversion of the heart towards the purity of the moral law, vitiates the native perceptions alike in Cliristendom and Pa- ganism.

The theory that the pagan is possessed of such an amount and deo;ree of moral knowleds^e as has been specified has awakened some apprehension in the minds of some Christian theologians, and has led them unintentionally to foster the opposite the- ory, which, if strictly adhered to, would lift off all responsibility from the pagan world, would bring them in innocent at the bar of God, and would ren- der the whole enterprise of Christian missions a superfluity and an absurdity. Their motive has been good. They have feared to attribute any de- gree of accurate knowledge of God and the moral law, to the pagan world, lest they should thereby conflict with the doctrine of total depravity. They have mistakenly supposed, that if they should con- cede to every man, by virtue of his moral constitu- tion, some correct apprehensions of ethics and natu-

SOUECE OF ERROR IN THE HEAD. 105

ral reliirion, it would follow that there is some na- tive goodness in him. But light in the intellect is very different from life in the heart. It is one thing to know the law of God, and quite an- other thing to be conformed to it. Even if we should concede to the degraded pagan, or the degraded dweller in the haunts of vice in Chris- tian lands, all the intellectual knowledge of God and the moral law that is possessed l)y the ruined archangel himself, we should not be adding a parti- cle to his moral character or his moral excellence. There is nothing of a holy quality in the mere intel- lectual perception that there is one Supreme De- ity, and that He has issued a pure and holy law for the guidance of all rational beings. The mere doc- trine of the Divine Unity will save no man. " Thou believest," says St. James, " that there is one God ; thou doest well, the devils also believe and tremble." Satan himself is a monotheist, and knows very clear- ly all the commandments of God; but his heart and will are in demoniacal antagonism with them. And so it is, only in a lower degree, in the instance of the pagan, and of the natural man, in every age, and in every clime. He knows more than he practises. This intellectual perception therefore, this inborn constitutional apprehension, instead of lifting up man into a higher and more favorable position be- fore the eternal bar, casts him down to perdition. If he knew nothing at all of his Maker and his duty, he could not be held responsible, and could not be

106 BDSr IN TIEE HEART THE

summoned to judgment. As St. Paul affirms : " Where there is no law there is no transj^ression." But if, wlien he knew God in some degree, he glori- fied him not as God to that degree ; and if, when the moral law was written upon the heart he went counter to its requirements, and heard the accusing voice of his own conscience; then his mouth must be stopped, and he must become guilty before his Judge, like any and every other disobe- dient creature.

It is this serious and damning fact in the history of man upon the globe, that St. Paul brings to view, in the passage wliich we have selected as the foun- dation of this discourse. He accounts for all the idolatry and sensuality, all the darkness and vain imaginations of paganism, by referring to fJw aver- sion of the natural heart towards the one only holy God. " Men," he says, — these pagan men, — "did not lihe to retain God in their knowledge." The primary difficulty was in their affections, and not in their understandings. They knew too much for their own comfort in sin. The contrast between the Di- vine purity that was mirrored in tlieir conscience, and the sinfulness that was wrought into their heart and will, rendered this inborn constitutional idea of God a very painful one. It was a fire in the bones. If the Psalmist, a renewed man, yet not entirely free ft'om human corruption, could say: " I thought of God and was troubled," much more must the totally depraved man of paganism be filled

60UECE OF EEEOR IN THE HE^VD, 107

with terror when, in the thoughts of his heart, in the hour when the accusing conscience was at work, he brought to mind the one great God of gods whom he did not glorify, and whom he had offend- ed. It was no wonder, therefore, that he did not like to retain the idea of such a Being in his con- sciousness, and that he adopted all possible expedi- ents to get rid of it. The apostle informs us that the pagan actually called in his imagination to his aid, in order to extirpate, if possible, all his native and rational ideas and convictions upon religious subjects. He became vain in his imaginations, and his foolish heart as a consequence was darkened, and he changed the glory of the incoiTuptible God, the spiritual unity of the Deity, into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-foot- ed beasts, and creeping things (Rom. i. 21-23). He invented idolatry, and all those "gay religions full of pomp and gold," in order to blunt the edge of that sharp spiritual conception of God which was continually cutting and lacerating his wicked and sensual heart. Hiding himself amidst the columns of his idolatrous temples, and under the smoke of his idolatrous incense, he thought like Adam to escape from the view and inspection of that Liiinite One who, from the creation of the world downward, makes known to all men his eternal power and god- head ; who, as St. Paul taught the philosophers of Athens, is not far from any one of his rational crea- tures (Acts xvli. 27) ; and who, as the same apostle

108 SIK IN THE IIEAET THE

tauglit the pagan Lycaonians, tlioiigli in times past .Le sufff^red all nations to walk in their own ways, yet left not himself without witness, in that he did good, and gave them rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons, filling their hearts with food and gladness. (Acts xiv. 16, 17).

The first step in the process of mutilating the original idea of God, as a unity and an unseen Spirit, is seen in those pantheistic religions whicli lie behind all the mythologies of the ancient world, like a nebu- lous vapor out of which the more distinct idols and images of paganism are struggling. Here the notion of the Divine unity is still preserved ; but the Di- vine personality and holiness are lost. God be- comes a vague impersonal Power, with no moral qualities, and no religious attributes ; and it is dif- ficult to say which is worst in its moral influence, this pantheism which while retaining the doctrine of the Divine unity yet denudes the Deity of all that renders him an object of either love or reverence, or the grosser idolatries that succeeded it. For man cannot love, with all his mind and heart and soul and strength, a vast impersonal force working blind- ly throngh infinite space and everlasting time.

And the second and la-^t stage in this process of vitiating the true idea of God appears in that poly- theism in the midst of which St. Paul lived, and la- bored, and preached, and died ; in that seductive and beautiful paganism, tliat classical idolatry, which stiD addresses the human taste in such a fascinatinsj

SOURCE OF ERROK IN THE HEAD. 109

manner, in the Yenus de Medici, and tlie Apollo Belvidere. The idea of the unity of God is now mangled and cut up into the " gods many " and the " lords many," into the thirty thousand divin- ities of the pagan pantheon. This completes the process. God now gives his guilty creature over to these vain imaginations of naturalism, material- ism, and idolatry, and to an increasingly darkening mind, until in the lowest forms of heathenism he so distorts and suppresses the con created idea of the Deity that some speculatists assert that it does not belong to his constitution, and that his Maker never endowed him with it. How is the gold become dim ! How is the most fine gold changed !

But it will be objected that all this lies in the past. This is the account of a process that has re- quired centuries, yea millenniums, to bring about. A hundred generations have been engaged in trans- muting the monotheism with which the human race started, into the pantheism and polytheism in which the great majority of it is now involved. How do you establish the guilt of those at the end of the line? How can you charge upon the present gen- eration of pagans the same culpability that Paul im- puted to their ancestors eighteen centuries ago, and that Noah the preacher of righteousness denounced upon the antediluvian pagan ? As the deteriorat- ing process advances, does not the guilt diminish ? and now, in these ends of the ages, and in these dark habitations of cruelty, has not the culpability

110 SIN IN THE HEART THE

run down to a minimum, which God in the day of judgment will " wink at ? "

We answer No : Because the structure of the hu- man mind is precisely the same that it was when the Sodomites held down the truth in unrighteous- ness, and the Roman populace turned up their thumbs that they might see the last drops of blood ebb slowly from the red gash in the dying gladia- tor's side. Man, in his deepest degradation, in his most hardened depravity, is still a rational intelli- gence ; and though he should continue to sin on in- definitely, through cycles of time as long as those of geology, he cannot unmake himself; he cannot unmould his immortal essence, and absolutely eradi- cate all his moral ideas. Paofanism itself has its fluctuations of moral knowledge. The early Roman, in the days of Numa, was highly ethical in his views of the Deity, and his conceptions of moral law. Varro informs us that for a period of one hun- dred and seventy years the Romans worship})ed their gods without any images ; ^ and Sallust denominates these pristine Romans " religiosissimi mortales." And how often does the missionary discover a tribe or a race, whose moral intellio-ence is hisrher than that of the average of paganism. Nay, the same race, or tribe, passes from one phase of polytheism to another ; in one instance exhibiting many of the elements and truths of natural religion, and in an-

Plutarch: Nuina, 8; Augisti.ne: Do Civitate. iv. 31.

SOURCE OF EEEOR LN THE HEAD. 1 1 1

otlier almost entirely suppressing them. These facts prove that the pagan man is under supervision ; that he is under the righteous despotism of moral ideas and convictions; that God is not far from him ; that he lives and moves and has his being in his Maker ; and that God does not leave himself without witness in his constitutional structure. Therefore ijmi^, that this sea of rational intelligence thus surges and sways in the masses of paganism ; sometimes dashing the creature up the heights, and sometimes sending him down into the depths.

But while this subject has this general applica- tion to mankind outside of Revelation ; while it throws so much light upon the question of the heathens' responsibility and guilt ; while it tends to deepen our interest in the work of Christian missions, and to stimulate us to obey our Redeemer's command to go and preach the gospel to them, in order to save them from the wrath of God which abideth upon them as it does upon ourselves ; while this subject has these profound and far-reaching appli- cations, it also presses with sharpness and energy upon the case, and the position, of millions of men in Christendom. And to this more particular aspect of the theme, we ask attention for a moment.

This same process of corruption, and vitiation of a correct knowledge of God, which we have seen to go on upon a large scale in the instance of the hea- then world, also often goes on in the instance of a sin2:le individual under the lii>;ht of Revelation itself

112 SI]S^ IN THE HEART THE

Have you never known a person to have been well educated in childhood and youth respecting the character and government of God, and yet in mid- dle life and old age to have altered and corrupted all his early and accurate apprehensions, by the gradual adoption of contrary views and sentiments ? In his childhood and youth, he believed that God distino-uishes between the rio-hteous and the wicked, that he rewards the one and punishes the other, and hence he cherished a salutary fear of his Maker that agreed well with the dictates of his unsophisticated reason, and the teachings of nature and revelation. But when he became a man, he put away these childish thino-s, in a far different sense from that of the Apostle. As the years rolled along, he succeed- ed, by a career of worldliness and of sensuality, in expelling this stock of religious knowledge, this right way of conceiving of God, from his mind, and now at the close of life and upon the very brink of eternity and of doom, this very same person is as unbelieving res2:)ecting the moral attriljutes of Je- hovah, and as unfearing with regard to them, as if the entire experience and creed of his childhood and youth were a delusion and a lie. This rational and immortal creature in the morning of his exist- ence looked up into the clear sky with reverence, being impressed by the eternal power and godhead that are there, and when he had committed a sin he felt remorseful and guilty ; but the very same per- son now sins recklessly and with flinty hardness of

SOUECE OF EEEOE IN THE HEAD. 113

heart, casts sullen or scowling glances upward, and says : " There is no God." Compare the Ed^vard Gibbon whose childhood expanded under the teach- ings of a beloved Christian matron trained in the school of the devout William La^v, and whose youth exhibited unwonted religious sensibility, — compare this Edward Gibbon with the Edward Gibbon whose manhood was saturated with utter unbelief, and whose departure into the dread hereafter was, in his own phrase, " a leap in the dark." Compare the Aaron Buit whose blood was deduced from one of the most saintly lineages in the history of the American church, and all of whose early life was embosomed in ancestral piety, — compare this Aaron Burr with the Aaron Burr whose middle life and prolonged old age was unimpressible as mai'ble to all religious ideas and influences. In both of these instances, it was the aversion of the heart that for a season (not for eternihj^ be it remembered) quenched out the light in the head. These men, like the pagan of whom St. Paul speaks, did not like to retain a holy God in their knowledge, and He gave them over to a reprobate mind.

These fluctuations and changes in doctrinal belief, both in the general and the individual mind, furnish materials for deep reflection by both the philoso- pher and the Christian ; and such an one will often be led to notice the exact parallel and similarity there is between religious deterioration in races, and religious deterioration in individuals. Tiie dldihe

114 SUNT m THE HEART THE

to 7'efain a knowledge already fiirnislied, because it is painful, because it rebukes worldliness and sin, is that which ruins both mankind in general, and the man in particular. Were the lieart only conformed to the truth, the trutli never would be corrupted, never would be even temporarily darkened in the human soul. Should the pagan, himself, actually obey the dictates of his own reason and conscience, he would find the light that was in him growing still clearer and brighter. God himself, the author of his rational mind, and the Light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world, would re- ward him for his obedience by granting him yet more knowledge. We cannot say in what particu- lar mode the Divine providence would bring it about, but it is as certain as that Grod lives, that if the pagan world should act up to the degree of light which they enjoy, they would be conducted ulti- mately to the truth as it is in Jesus, and would be saved by the Eedeemer of the world. The instance of the Koman centurion Cornelius is a case in point. This was a thoughtful and serious pagan. It is in- deed ver}^ probable that his military residence in Palestine had cleared up, to some degree, his natu- ral intuitions of moral truth ; but we know that he was ignorant of the way of salvation through Christ, from the fact that the apostle Peter was instructed in a vision to go and preach it unto him. The sin- cere endeavor of this Gentile, this then pagan in reference to Christianity, to improve the little

SOUECE OF EEEOR IN THE HEAD. 115

knowledge wbich he had, met with the Divine ap- probation, and was crowned with a saving acquaint- ance with the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. Peter himself testified to this, when, after hearing from the lips of Cornelius the account of his pre- vious life, and of the way in which God had led him, " he opened his mouth and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: but in every nation, he that feareth him and work- eth righteousness is accepted with him" (Acts x. 34, 35).^

But such instances as this of Cornelius are not one in millions upon millions. The light shines in the darkness that comprehends it not. Almost without an exception, so far as the human eye can see, the uuevangelized world holds the truth in un- righteousness, and does not like to retain the idea of a holy God, and a holy law, in its knowledge. Therefore the knowledge continually diminishes;

' It should be noticed that Cor- of existence upon earth, and con-

nelius was not prepared for an- tinue unintermittently to the end

other life, by the moral virtue of it. A sense of si?i is afar more

which he had practised before hopeful indication, in the instance

meeting with Peter, but by his of a heathen, than a sense of vir-

penitence for sin and faith in tiie. The utter absence of humil-

Jesus Christ, whom Peter preach- ity and sorrow in the "Medita-

ed toliim as the Saviour from sin tions" of the philosophic Empe-

(Acts X. 43). Good works can ror, and the omnipresence in them

no more prepare a pjigan for etcr- of pride and self-satisfaction, place

nity than they can a nominal him out of all relations to the

Christian. Epictetus and Marcus Divine mercy. In trying to judge

Aurelius could no more be justi- of the final condition of a pagan

tied by their personal character, outside of revelation, we must ask

than Saul of Tarsus could be. the question : Was he penitent ?

First, because the virtue is imper- rather than the question : Was

feet, at the best : and, secondly, he virtuous ? it dues not begin at the beginning

116 SIN IN THE IlEAET THE

the lig^ht of natural reason and conscience ffrows dimmer and dimmer; and the soul sinks down in the mire of sin and sensuality, apparently devoid of all the higher ideas of God, and law, and immortal life.

We have thus considered the truth which St. Paul teaches in the text, that the ultimate source of all human error is in the character of the human heart. Mankind do not like to retain God in their knowledge, and therefore they come to possess a reprobate mind. The origin of idolatry, and of in- fidelity, is not in the original constitution with which the Creator endowed the creature, but in that evil heart of unbelief by which he departed from the living God. Sinful man shapes his creed in ac- cordance with his wishes, and not in accordance with the unbiased decisions of his reason and con- science. He does not llhe to think of a holy God, and therefore he denies that God is holy. He does not lihe to think of the eternal punishment of sin, and therefore he denies that punishment is eternal. He does not Uhe to be pardoned through the sub- stituted sufferings of the Son of God, and therefore he denies the doctrine of atonement. He does not like the truth that man is so totally alienated from God that he needs to be renewed in the spirit of his mind by the Holy Ghost, and therefore he de- nies the doctrines of depravity and regeneration. Kun through the creed which the Church has lived by and died by, and you will discover that the only

SOUECE OF EREOE IN THE HEAD. 117

obstacle to its reception is the aversion of the hu- man heart. It is a rational creed in all its parts and combinations. It has outlived the collisions and conflicts of a hundred schools of infidelity that have had their brief day, and died with their devo- tees. A hundred systems of philosophy falsely so called have come and gone, but the one old religion of the patriarchs, and the prophets, and the apostles, holds on its way through the centuries, conquering and to conquer. Can it be that sheer imposture and error have such a tenacious vitality as this ? If reason is upon the side of infidelity, why does not infidelity remain one and the same unchanging thing, like Christianity, from age to age, and subdue all men unto it ? If Christianity is a delusion and a lie, why does it not die out, and disappear ? The difiiculty is not upon the side of the human reason, but of the human heart. Skeptical men do not like the religion of the New Testament, these doc- trines of sin and grace, and therefore they shape their creed by their sympathies and antipathies; by what they wish to have true ; by their heart rather than by their head. As the Founder of Christian- ity said to the Jews, so he says to every man who rejects His doctrine of grace and redemption : " Ye will not come unto me that ye might have life." It is an inclination of the will, and not a conviction of the reason, that prevents the reception of the Christian relii2;ion.

Among the many reflections that are suggested

118 SIN IlSr THE HEAET THE

by this subject and its discussion, our limits permit only the following :

1. It betokens deep wickedness, in any man, to change the truth of God into a lie, — to suhstUute a false theory in religion for the true one. " Woe unto them," says the prophet, " that call evil good,* and good evil ; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness ; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter." There is no form of moral evil that is more hateful in the sight of Infinite Truth, than that intellectual depravity which does not like to retain a holy God in its knowledge, and therefore mutilates the very idea of the Deity, and attemj)ts to make him other than he is. There is no sinner that will be visited with a heavier veno-eance than that cool and calculating man, who, because he dis- likes the unyielding purity of the moral law, and the awful sanctions by which it is accompanied, de- liberately alters it to suit his wishes and his self- indulgence. If a person is tempted and falls into sin, and yet does not change his religious creed in order to escape the reproaches of conscience and the fearof retribution, there is hope that the orthodoxy of his head may result, by God's blessing upon his own truth, in sorrow for the sin and a forsaking there- of. A man, for instance, who amidst all his tempta- tions and transo-ressions still retains the truth taught him from the Scriptures, at his mother's knees, that a finally impenitent sinner will go down to eternal torment, feels a powerful check upon his

SOURCE OF EREOK IN THE HEAD, 119

passions, and is often kept from outward and actual transgressions by his creed. But if he deliberately, and by an act of will, says in his heart : " There is no hell ; " if he substitutes for the theory that ren- ders the commission of sin dangerous and fearful, a theory that relieves it from all danger and all fear, there is no hope that he will ever cease from sinning. On the contrary, having brought his head into har- mony with his heart; having adjusted his theory to his practice; having shaped his creed by his pas- sions; having changed the truth of God into a lie; he then plunges into sin with an abandonment and a momentum that is awful. In the phrase of the prophet, he "■ draws iniquity with cords of vanity, and sin as it were with a cart-rope."

It is here that we see the deep guilt of those, who, by false theories of God and man and law and penalty, tempt the young or the old to their eternal destruction. It is sad and fearful, when the weak physical nature is plied witb all the enticements of earth and sense ; but it is yet sadder and more fearful, when the intellectual nature is sought to be perverted and ensnared by specious theories that annihilate the distinction between virtue and vice, that take away all holy fear of God, and reverence for His law, that represent the everlasting future either as an everlasting elysium for all, or else as an eternal sleep. The demoralization, in this in- stance, is central and radical. It is in the brain, in the very understanding itself If the foundations

120 STJSr IX THE HEART THE

themselves of morals and religion are destroyed, what can be done for the salvation of the creature ? A heavy woe is denounced against any and every one who tempts a fellow-being. Temptation implies malice. It is Satanic. It betokens a desire to ruin an immortal spirit. When therefore the siren would allure a human creature from the path of virtue, the inspiration of God utters a deep and bitter curse against her. But when the cold-blooded Mephisto- pheles endeavors to sophisticate the reason, to de- bauch the judgment, to sear the conscience; when the temptation is addressed to the intellect, and the desire of the tempter is to overthrow the entire re- ligious creed of a human being, — perhaps a youth just entering upon that hazardous enterprise of life in which he needs every jot and tittle of eternal truth to guide and protect him, — when the entice- ment assumes this purely mental form and aspect, it betokens the most malis-nant and heaven-darino; guilt in the tempter. And we may be certain that the retril)ution that will be meted out to it, by Him who is true and The Truth; who abhors all false- hood and all lies with an iniinite intensity; will be terriljle beyond conception. " Woe unto you ye hlitid guides I Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell ! If any man sliall add unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book. And if any man shall take away from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away

SOUECE OF EEEOE IN THE HEAD. 121

his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things that are written in this book."

2. In the second place, we perceive, in the light of this subject, the great danger of not reducing re- llgious truth to practioe. There are two fatal hazards in not obeying the doctrines of the Bible while yet there is an intellectual assent to them. The first is, that these doctripes shall themselves become diluted and corrupted. So long as the af- fectionate submission of the heart is not yielded to their authority ; so long as there is any dislike to- wards their holy claims ; there is great danger that, as in the instance of the pagan, they will not be re- tained in the knowledge. The sinful man becomes weai'y of a form of doctrine that continually rebukes him, and gradually changes it into one that is less truthful and restraining. But a second and equally alarmino; dano;er is, that the heart shall become ac- customed to the truth, and grow hard and indiffer- ent towards it. There are a multitude of persons who hear the word of God and never dream of dis- puting it, who yet, alas, never dream of obeying it. To such the living truth of the gospel becomes a petrifiiction, and a savor of death unto death.

We urge you, therefore, ye who know the doc- trines of the law and the doctrines of the gospel, to give an aifectionate and hearty assent to them hoth. When the divine Word asserts that you are guilty, and that you cannot stand in the judgment before

122 Sllf IN THE HEART.

God, make answer : " It is so, it is so." Practically and deeply acknowledge the doctrine of human guilt and corruption. Let it no longer be a theory in the head, but a humbling salutary conscious- ness in the heart. And .when the divine Word af- firms that Grod so loved the world that he gave his Only-Begotten Son to redeem it, make a quick and joyful response : " It is so, it is so." Instead of changing the truth of God into a lie, as the guilty world have been doing for six thousand years, chano;e it into a blessed consciousness of the soul. JBelieve what you know ; and then what you know will be the wisdom of God to your salvation.

THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES

Luke xi. 13. — " If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children ; how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him ? "

The reality, and necessity, of the operation of the Holy Spirit upon the human heart, is a doctrine very frequently taught in the Scriptures. Our Lord, in the passage from which the text is taken, speaks of the third Person in the Trinity in such a manner as to convey the impression that His agency is as in- dispensable, in order to spiritual life, as food is in order to physical ; that sinfril man as much needs the influences of the Holy Ghost as he does his daily bread. " If a son shall ask bread of any of you that is a father, will he give him a s'tone ? " If this is not at all supposable, in the case of an affec- tionate earthly parent, much less is it supposable that God the heavenly Father will refuse renewing and sanctifying influences to them that ask for them. By employing such a significant comparison as this, our Lord implies that there is as pressing need of the gift in the one instance as in the other. For, he does not compare spiritual influences with the

124 THE JSTECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

mere luxuries of life, — with wealth, fame, or power, — but with the very staff of life itself. He selects the very bread by which the human body lives, to illus- trate the helpless sinner's need of the Holy Ghost. When God, by his proj^het, would teach His peo- ple that he would at some future time bestow a rich and remarkaVjle blessing upon them, He says: " I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh." When our Saviour was about to leave his disciples, and Avas sending them forth as the ministers of his relig- ion, he i^romised them a direct and supernatural agency that should " reprove the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment."

And the history of Christianity evinces both the necessity and reality of Divine influences. God the Spirit has actually been present by a special and peculiar agency, in this sinfid and hardened world, and hence the heart of flesh and the spread of vital religion, God the Spirit has actually been absent, so far as concerns his special and peculiar agency, and hence the continuance of the heart of stone, and the decline, and sometimes the ex- tinction of vital religion. Where the Holy Spirit has been, specially and peculiarly, there the true Church of Chi'ist has been, and where the Holy Spirit has not been, specially and peculiarly, there the Church of Christ has not been ; however care- fully, or imposingly, the externals of a cliurch organ- ization may have been maintained.

But there is no stronger, or more eftectiv^e proof

THE NECESSITY OF DIVHSTE IT^FLUENCES. 125

of the need of tlie presence and agency of the Holy Spirit, than that which is derived from the nature of the case, as it appears in the individual. Just in proportion as we come to know our own moral con- dition, and our own moral necessities, shall we see and feel that the origin and growth of holiness with- in bur earthly and alienated souls, without the agen- cy of God the Holy Spirit, is an utter impossibility. Let us then look into the argument from the nature of the case, and consider this doctrine of a direct Divine operation, in its relations to ourselves per- sonally. Why, then, does every man need these influences of the Holy Spirit which are so cordially offered in the text ?

I. He needs them, in the first place, in order that he may he convinced of tlie reality of the eternal world.

There is such a world. It has as actual an exist- ence as Eurcrpe or Asia. Though not an object for any one of the five senses, the invisil^le world is as substantial as the great globe itself, and ■will be standing when the elements shall have been melted with fervent heat, and the heavens are no more. This eternal world, furthermore, is not only real, but it is filled with realities that are yet more sol- emn. God inhabits it. The judgment-seat of Christ is set up in it. Heaven is in it. Hell is in it. Myriads of myriads of holy and. happy spirits are there. Myriads of sinful and wi*etched spirits are there. Nay, this unseen world is the only real

126 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

world, and tlie ol>jects in it the onlij real objects, if we remember tliat only that which is immutable de- serves the name of real. If we employ the eternal as the measure of real being, then all that is outside of eternity is unreal and a vanity. This material world acquires impressiveness for man, by virtue of the ol;)jects that fill it. His farm is in it, his houses are upon it, solid mountains rise up from it, great rivers run through it, and the old rolling heavens are bent over it. But what is the transient reality of these objects, these morning vapors, com- pared with the everlasting reality of such beings as God and the soul, of such facts as holiness and sin, of such states as heaven and hell ? Here, then, we have in the unseen and eternal world a most solemn and real object of knowledge ; but where, among mankind, is the solemn and vivid knowledo-e itself? Knowledo^e is the union of a fact with a feelintr. There may be a stone in the street, but unless I smite it with my foot, or smite it with mj- eye, I have no knowledge of the stone. So, too, there is an invisible world, outstanding and awfully impress- ive ; but unless I feel its influences, and stand with awe beneath its shadows, it is as though it were not. Here is an orb that has risen up into the ho- rizon, but all eyes are shut.

For, no thoughtful observer fails to perceive that an earthly, and unspiritual mode of thought and feeling is the prevalent one among men. No one who has ever endeavored to arrest the attention of

THE XECESSITY OF DIYI2fE INFLUEjSXES. 12 <

a fellow-man, and give liis thoiiglits an upward ten- dency towards eternity, will say that the effort is easily and generally successful. On the contrary, if an ethereal and holy inhabitant of heayen were to go up and down our earth, and witness man's immersion in sense and time, the earthliness of his yie^vs and aims, his neglect of spiritual objects and interests, his absorption in this existence, and his forgetfulness of the other, it would be difficult to convince him that he was among beings made in the imaire of God, and was ming-lino- with a race having an immortal destination beyond the grave. In this first featiu^e of the case, then, as we find it in ourselves, and see it in all our fellow-men, we have the fii'st evidence of the need of aivakemng in- fluences from on high. Since man, naturally, is destitute of a solemn sense of eternal things, it is plain that there can be no moral change produced in him, unless he is first wakened from this drowze. He cannot become the subject of that new birth without which he cannot see the kingdom of God, unless his torpor respecting the Unseen is removed. Entirely satisfied as he now is with this mode of existence, and thinking little or nothing about an- other, the first necessity in his case is a startle, and an alarm. Difficult as he now finds it to be, to brino: the invisible world before his mind in a way to affect his feelings, he needs to have it loom upon his inward vision with such power and impressive- ness that he cannot take his eye oft*, if he would.

128 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

Lethargic as he now is, respecting his own immor- tality, it is impossible for him' to live and act with constant reference to it, unless he is wakened to its significance. Is it not self-evident, that if the sinner's present indifference towards the invisible world, and his failure to feel its solemn reality, continues through life, he will ceitainly enter that state of existence with his present character ? Looking into the human S23irit, and seeing how dead it is towards God and the future, must we not say, that if this deadness to eternity lasts until the death of the body, it will certainly be the death of the soul ?

But, in what way can man be made to realize that there is an eternal ^vorld, to which he is rapid- ly tending, and realities there, with which, by the very constitution of his spirit, he is forever and in- dissolubly connected either for bliss or woe ? How shall thoughtless and earthly man, as he treads these streets, and transacts all this business, and enjoys life, be made to feel with misgiving, foreboding, and alarm, that there is an eternity, and that he must soon enter it, as other men do, either as a heaven or a hell for his soul ? The answer to this question, so often asked in sadness and sorrow by the preach- er of the word, drives us back to the throne of God and to a mightier agency than that of man.

For one thing is certain, that this apathy and deadness will never of itself generate sensibility and life. Satan never casts out Satan. If this slumber- er be left to himself, he is lost. Should any man be

THE NECESSITY OF DIVIJSTE INrLUE:NCES. 129

given over to the natural inclination of his heart, he would never be awakened. Should his earthly mind receive no check, and his corrupt heart take its own way, he would never realize that there is another world than this, until he entered it. For, the worldly mind and the corrupt heaii; busy them- selves solely and happily with this existence. They find pleasure in the things of this life, and therefore never look beyond them. Worldly men do not in- terfere with their own present actual enjoyment. Who of this class voluntarily makes himself unhap- py, by thinking of subjects that are gloomy to his mind ? What man of the w^orld starts up from his sweet sleej) and his pleasant dreams, and of his own accord looks the stern realities of death and the judgment in the eye ? No natural man begins to wound himself, that he may ]>e healed. No earth- ly man begins to slay himself, that he may be made alive. Even when the natural heart is roused and wakened by some foreign agency ; some startling providence of God or some Divine operation in the conscience, how soon, if left to its own motion and tendency, does it relapse into its old slumber and sleep. The needle has received a shock, but after a slight trembling and vibration it soon settles again upon its axis, ever and steady to the north. It is plain, that the sinner's worldly mind and apa- thetic nature w411 never conduct him to a proper sense of Divine things.

The awakening, then, of the human soul, to an

130 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

effectual appreliension of eternal realities, must take its first issue from some other Beiug^ than the drow- zy and sluml;)ering creature himself. We are not speaking of a few serious thoughts that now and then fleet across the human mind, like meteors at midnight, and are seen no more. We are speaking of that i)ermanent, that everlasting dawning of eter- nity, with its terrors and its splendors, uj^on the human soul, which allows it no more repose, until it is prepared for eternity upon good grounds and foundations ; and with reference to such a profound consciousness of the future state as this, we say with confidence, that the awakening must proceed from some Being who is far more alive to the solemnity and significance of eternal duration than earthly man is. Without impulses from on high, the sin- ner never rouses up to attend to the su])ject of re- ligion. He lives on indifferent to his religious in- terests, until God^ who is more merciful to his deathless soul than he himself is, by His providence startles him, or by His Spirit in his conscience alarms him. Never, until God interferes to disturb his dreams, and break up his slumber, does he pro- foundly and permanently feel that he was made for another Avorld, and is fast going into it. How often does God say to the careless man : " Arise, O sleeper, and Christ shall give thee light ; " and how often does he disregard the warning voice ! How often does God stimulate his conscience, and flare light into his mind ; and how often does he stifle

THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 131

down these inward convictions, and suffer the light to shine in the darkness that comprehends it not ! These facts in the j)ersonal history of every sin-lov- inff man show, that the human soul does not of its own isolated action wake up to the realities of eter- nity. They alsa show that God is very merciful to the human soul, in positively and powerfully inter- fering for its welfare ; but that man, in iniinite folly and wickedness, loves the sleep, and inclines to re- main in it. The Holy Spirit strives, but the human spirit resists.

II, In the second place, man needs the influ- ences of the Holy Spirit that he may he convinced of sin.

Man universally is a sinner, and yet he needs in every single instance to be made aware of it. " There is none good, no, not one ; " and yet out of the millions of the race how very few feel this truth ! Not only does man sin, but he adds to his guilt by remaining ignorant of it. The criminal in this instance also, as in our courts of law, feels and confesses his crime no faster than it is proved to him. Through what blindness of mind, and hard- ness of heart, and insensibility of conscience, is the Holy Spirit obliged to force His way, before thei'e is a sincere ackijowledgment of sin before God ' The careful investigations, the persevering question- ings and cross-questionings, by which, before a hu- man tribunal, the wilful and unrepenting criminal is forced to see and ackno\vled:^e his wickedness,

132 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

are but fainfc emblems of that thorough work that must be wrought by the Holy Ghost, before the hu- man soul, at a hi^-her tribunal, forsakins; its refuo-es of lies, and desisting from its subterfuges and palli- ations, smites upon the breast, and cries, " God be merciful to me a sinner ! " Think'how much of our sin has occurred in total apathy, and indifference, and how unwilling we are to have any distinct con- sciousness upon this subject. It is only now and then that we feel ourselves to be sinners ; but it is by no means only now and then that we are sinners. We sin habitually ; Ave are conscious of sin rarely. Our affections and inclinations and motives are evil, and only evil, continually ; but our experimental hnowledge that they are so comes not often into our mind, and what is worse stays not long, because we dislike it.

The conviction of sin, with what it includes and leads to, is of more worth to man than all other convictions. Conviction of any sort, — a living pi'actical consciousness of any kind, — is of great value, because it is only this species of knowledge that moves mankind. Convince a man, that is, give him a consciousness, of the truth of a principle in politics, in trade, or in religion, and you actuate him politically, commercially, or i-eligiously. Con- vince a criminal of his crime, that is, endue him with a conscious feeling of his criminalitj^, and you make him burn with electric fire. A convicted man is a man thoroughly conscious ; and a thoroughly con-

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scious man is a deeply moved one. And this is true, with emphasis, of the conviction of sin. This consciousness produces a deeper and more lasting effect than all others. Convince a community of the justice or injustice of a certain class of political principles, and you stir it very deeply, and broadly, as the history of all democracies clearly shows ; but let society be once convinced of sin before the holy and righteous God, and deep calleth unto deep, all the waters are moved. Never is a mass of hu- man beings so centrally stirred, as when the Spirit of God is poured out upon it, and from no move- ment in human society do such lasting aud blessed consequences flow, as from a genuine revival of re- ligion.

But here again, as in reference to the eternal state, there is no realizing sense. Conviction of sin is not a characteristic of mankind at large. Men gener- ally will acknowledge in words that they are sinners, but they wait for some far-distant day to come, when they shall be pricked in the heart, and feel the truth of what they say. Men generally are not con- scious of the dreadful reality of sin, any more than they are of the solemn reality of eternity. A deep insensibility, in this respect also, precludes a pi'ac- tical knowledge of that guilt in the soul, which, if unpardoned and uuremoved, will just as sm^ely ruin it as God lives and the soul is immortal. Since, then, if man be left to his own inclination, he never will be convinced of sin, it is plain that some Agent

I'Ji THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INITLUENCES.

"wTio has the power must overcome his aversion to self-knowledge, and bring him to consciousness upon this unwelcome subject. If any one of us, for the remainder of our days, should be given over to that ordinary indifference towards sin with which we walk these streets, and ti-ansact business, and enjoy life ; if God's truth should never again in this world stab the conscience, and God's Spirit should never again make us anxious ; is it not infallibly certain that the future would be as the past, and that we should go through this " accepted time and day of salvation" unconvicted and therefore unconvert- ed ?

But besides this destitution of the experimental sense of sin, another ground of the need of Divine agency is found in the hlindness of the natural mind. Man's vision of spiritual things, even when they are set before his eyes, is dim and inadequate. The Christian ministry is greatly hindered, because it cannot illuminate the human understandiuo- and impart the power of a keen spiritual insight. It is compelled to present the objects of sight, but it can- not give the eye to see them. Vision depends alto- gether upon the condition of the organ. The eye sees only what it brings the means of seeing. The scaled eye of a worldling, or a debauchee, or a self-righteous man, cannot see that sin of the heart, that "spiritual wickedness," at which men like Paul and Isaiah stood aghast. These were men whose character compared with that of the world-

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ling was saintly; men whose shoes' latcliets the worldling is not worthy to stoop down and unloose. And yet they saw a depravity within their own hearts which he does not see in his ; a depravity which he cannot see, and which he steadily denies to exist, until he is enlightened by the Holy Ghost, But the preacher has no power to impart this clear spiritual discernment. He cannot arm the eye of the natural man with that magnifying and micro- scopic power, by which hatred shall be seen to be murder, and lust, adultery, and the least swelling of pride, the sin of Lucifer. He is compelled, by the testimony of the Bible, of the wise and the holy of all time, and of his own consciousness, to tell every unregenerate man that he is no better than his race ; that he certainly is no better than the Christian Church which continually confesses and mourns over indwelling sin. The faithful preacher of the word is oblitJ-ed to insist that there is no radical difference among men, and that the depravity of the man of irreproachable morals but unrenewed heart is as total as was that of the great preacher to the Gentiles, — a man of perfectly irreproachable morals, but who confessed that he was the chief of sinners, and feared lest he should be a cast-away. But the preacher of this unwelcome message has no power to open the blind eye. He cannot endow the self- ignorant and incredulous man before him, with that consciousness of the " plague of the heart " which says "yea" to the most vivid description of human

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sinfulness, and " amen " to God's heaviest maledic- tion upon it. The preacher's position would be far easier, if there might be a transfer of experience ; if some of that bitter painful sense of sin with which the struggling Christian is burdened might flow over into the easy, unvexed, and thoughtless souls of the men of this world. Would that the con- sciousness upon this subject of sin, of a Paul or a Luther, mio-ht delu2:e that laro-e multitude of men who doubt or deny the doctrine of human deprav- ity. The materials for that consciousness, the items that go to make up that experience, exist as really and as plentifully in your moral state and character, as they do in that of the mourning and self-reproach- ing Christian who sits by your side, — your devout father, your saintly mother, or sister, — whom you know, and who ycm know is a better being than you are. Why should they l:»e weary and heavy-laden with a sense of their unworthiness before God, and you go through life indifferent and light-hearted ? Are they deluded in respect to the doctrine of hu- man depravity, and are you in the right ? Think you that the deathbed and the day of judgment will prove this to be the fiict ? No ! if you shall ever know anything of the Christian struggle with innate corruption ; if you shall ever, in the expressive phrase of Scripture, have your senses exercised as in a gymnasium ^ to discern good and evil, and see

• T(i a'laOijvi/ina ) r-\ i'/ii>aautvn. Heb. v. 14.

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yourself witli self- abhorrence ; your views will har- monize most profoundly and exactly with theirs. And, furthermore, you will not in the process create any 7iew sinfulness. You will merely see the exist- ing depravity of the human heart. You will sim- ply see what is, — is now, in your heart, and in all human hearts, and has been from the beginning.

But all this is the work of a more powerful and spiritual agency than that of man. The truth may be exhibited with perfect transparency and plain- ness, the hearer himself may do his utmost to have it penetrate and tell ; and yet, there be no vivid and vital consciousness of sin. How often does the serious and alarmed man say to us : " I know it, but I do not feel it." How long and wearily, sometimes, does the anxious man straggle after an inward sense of these spiritual things, without suc- cess, until he learns that an inward sense, an experi- mental consciousness, respecting religious truth, is as purely a gift and product of God the Spirit as the breath of life in his nostrils. Considering, then, the natural apathy of man respecting the sin that is in his own heart, and the exceeding blindness of his mental vision, even when his attention has been directed to it, is it not perfectly plain that there must be the exertion of a Divine agency, in order that he may pass through even the first and lowest stages of the religious experience?

In view of the subject, as thus far unfolded, we remark:

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1. First, that it is the duty of every one, to tahe the facts in respect to mans character as he finds them, Nothing is gained, in any province of human thought or action, by disputing actual verities. They are stubborn things, and will not yield to the wishes and prejudices of the natural heart. This is especially true in regard to the facts in man's moral and religious condition. The testi- mony of Eevelation is explicit, that " the carnal mind is enmity against God, for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be ; " and also, that " the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit, neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned." According to this Bibli- cal statement, there is corruption and blindness too-ether. The human heart is at once sinful, and ignorant that it is so. It is, therefore, the very worst form of evil; a fatal disease unknown to the patient, and accompanied with the belief that there is perfect health; sin and guilt with- out any just and proper sense of it. This is the testimony, and the assertion, of that Being who needs not that any should testify to Him of man, for he knows what is in man. And this is the testimony, also, of every mind that has attained a profound self-knowledge. For it is indisputable, that in proportion as a man is introspective, and accustoms himself to the scrutiny of his motives and feelings, he discovers that " the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint."

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It is, tberefore, tlie duty and wisdom of every one to set to his seal tbat God is true, — to have this as his motto. Though, as yet, he is destitute of a clear conviction of sin, and a godly sorrow for it, still he should jjresiime the fact of human . de- pravity. Good men in every age have fouud it to be a- fact, and the infallible Word of God declares that it is a fact. What, then, is gained, by proposing another than the Biblical theory of human nature \ Is the evil removed by denying its existence ? Will the mere calling men good at heart, and by nature, make them such \

" Who can hold a fire in liis hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a feast ? Or wallow naked in Deceinher snow, By thinking on fantastic summer heat ? " '

2. In the second place, w^e remark that it is the duty of every one, not to he discouraged hy these facts and truths relative to the moved condition of man. For, one fact conducts to the next one. One truth preparer for a second. If it is a solemn and sad fact that men are sinners, and blind and dead in their trespasses and sin, it is also a cheering fact that the Holy Spirit can enlighten the darkest understanding, and enliven the most torpid and indifferent soul ; and it is a still further, and most encouraging truth and fact, that the Holy Spirit is

' Shakspeaee : Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

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given to those who ask for it, with more readiness than a father gives bread to his hungry child. Here, then, we have the fact of sin, and of blindness and apathy in sin ; the fact of a mighty power in God to convince of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment ; and the blessed fact that this power is accessible to prayer. Let us put these three facts together, all of them, and act accordingly. Then we shall be taught by the Spirit, and shall come to a salutary consciousness of sin ; and then shall be verified in our own experience the words of God : " I dwell in the high and holy place, and with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones."

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Luke xi. 13. — " If ye, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts nnto your children ; how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him."

In expounding the doctrine of these words, in the preceding discourse, the argument for the neces- sity of Divine influences had reference to the more general aspects of man's character and condition. We were concerned with the origin of seriousness in view of a future life, and the production of a sense of moral corruption and unfitness to enter eternity. We have now to consider the work of the Spii'it, in its relations, first, to that more distinct sense of sin which is denominated the consciousness of guilty and secondly, to that saving act oi faith by which the atonement of Christ is appropriated by the soul.

I, Sin is not man's misfortune, but his fault ; and any view that falls short of this fact is radically defective. Sin not only brings a corruption and bondage, but also a condemnation and penalty, upon the self-will that originates it. Sin not only ren- ders man unfit for rewards, but also deserving of punishment. As one who has disobeyed law of his

14*2 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

own determination, lie is liable not merely to the negative loss of blessings, but also to the positive infliction of retribution. It is not enoug^li that a ti'ansgressor be merely let alone ; he must be taken in hand and punished. He is not simply a diseased man ; he is a criminal. His sin, therefore, requires not a removal merely, but also an expiation.

This relation and reference of transgression to law and justice is a fundamental one ; and yet it is very liable to be overlooked, or at least to be inadequate- ly apprehended. The sense of ill-desert is too apt to be confused and shallow, in the human soul. Man is comparatively ready to acknowledge the misery of sin, while he is slow to confess the guilt of it. When the word of God asserts he is poor, and blind, and wretched, he is comparatively forward to assent ; but when, in addition, it asserts that he deserves to be punished everlastingly, he reluctates. Man- kind are willing to acknowledge their wretched- ness, and be pitied ; but they are not willing to acknowledge their guiltiness, and stand condemned befoi'e law.

And yet, guilt is. the very essence of sin Extin- guish the criminality, and you extinguish the in- most core and heart of moral evil. We may have felt that sin is bondage, that it is inward dissension and disharmony, that it takes away the true dig- nity of our nature, but if we have not also felt that it is iniquity and merits penalty, we have not become conscious of its most essential quality. It is not

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enough that we come before God, saying : " I ara wretched in my soul ; I am weary of my bondage ; I long for deliverance." We must also say, as we look up into that holy Eye : " I am guilty ; O my God I deserve thy judgments." In brief, the hu- man mind must recognize all the Divine attributes. The entire Divine character^ in both its justice and its love, must rise full-orbed before the soul, when thus seekino; salvation. It is not enouo-h, that we ask God to free us from disquietude, and give us repose. Bef(jre we do this, and that we may do it successfully, we must employ the language of David, while under the stings of guilt : " O Lord rebuke me not in thy wrath : neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure. Be merciful unto me, O God be merciful unto me."

What is needed is, more consideration of sin in its objective, and less in its subjective rela- tions ; more sense of it in its reference to the be- ing and atti'ibutes of God, and less sense of it in its reference to our own happiness or misery, or even to the harmony of our own powers and faculties. The adorable being and attri- butes of God are of more importance than any human soul, immortal though it be ; and what is required in the religious experience is, more anxiety lest the Divine glory should be tarnished, and less fear that a worm of the dust be made miserable by his transgressions. And whatever may be our the- ory of the matter, 'Ho this complexion must we

144 THE iSTECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

come at last," even in order to our o^\ti peace of mind. We must lose our life, in order to find it. Even in order to our own inward repose of con- science and of heart, there must come a point and period in our mental history, when we do actually sink self out of sio-ht, and think of sin in its relation to the character and government of the great and holy God, — when we do see it to be guilty as well as corruption.

For guilt is a distinct, and a distinguishable qual- ity. It is a thing by itself, like the Platonic idea of Beauty.^ It is sin stripped of its accompani- ments,— the restlessness, the dissatisfaction, and the unhappiness which it produces, — and perceived in its pure odiousness and ill-desert. And when thus seen, it does not permit the mind to think of any thing but the righteous law, and the Divine char- acter. In the hour of thorou2:h conviction, the sin- ful spirit is lost in the feeling of guiltiness : wholly eno;rossed in the reflection that it has incurred the condemnation of the Best Being in the universe. It is in distress, not because an Almighty Being can make it miserable but, because a Holy and Good Being has reason to be displeased with it. When it gives utterance to its emotion, it says to its Sov- ereiscn and its Judo^e: "I am in ans^uish, more because Thou the Holy and the Good art unrecon- ciled with me, than because Thou the Omnipotent

' 'Av7o, Ka9' alrb, /le^^' avTov, uovoEideq. — Plato : Oonviviniii, p. 247, Ed. Bipoiit.

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canst punish me forever. I refuse not to be pun- ished ; I deserve the inflictions of Thy justice ; only forgive^ and Thou mayest do what Thou wilt unto me." A soul that is truly penitent has no desire to escape penalty, at the expense of principle and law. It says with David: "Thou desirest not sac- rifice;" such atonement as I can make is inade- quate; "else would I give it." It expresses its approbation of the pure justice of God, in the lan- guage of the gentlest and sweetest of Mystics :

" Thou hast no lightnings, 0 Thou Justl Or I their force should know ; And if Tliou strike me into dust, My soul approves the blow.

The heart that values less its ease, Than it adores Thy ways, In Thine avenging anger, sees A subject of its praise.

Pleased I could lie, concealed and lost. In shades of central night; Not to avoid Thy wrath, Thou know'st. But lest I grieve Thy sight.

Smite me, O Thou whom I provoke I And I will love Thee still ; The well deserved and righteous stroke Shall please me, though it kill." '

Now, it is only when the human spirit is under the illuminating, and discriminating influences of the

' Guton: translated by CowPER, is expressed by Vauohan in Works III. 85. — A similar thought " The Eclipse."

"Tliy anger I could kiss, and will ; But O Thy grief, Thy grief doth kill."

146 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

Holy Ghost, that it possesses this pure and genuine sense of guilt. Worldly losses, trials, \^-arnings by God's providence, may rouse the sinner, and make him solemn ; but unless the Spirit of Grace enters his heart he does not feel that he is ill-deservinof. He is sad and fearful, respecting the future life, and perhaps supposes that this state of mind is one of true conviction, and wonders that it does not end in conversion, and the joy of pardon. But if he would examine it, he would discover that it is full of the lust of self He would find that he is merely unhap- py, and restless, and afraid to die. If he should ex- amine the workings of his heart, he would discover that they are only another form of self-love ; that instead of being anxious about^self in the present world, he has become anxious about self in the fu- ture world ; that instead of looking out for his happiness here, he has begun to look out for it here- after ; that in fact he has merely transferred sin, from time and its relations, to eternity and its relations. Such sorrow as this needs to be sorrowed for, and such repentance as this needs to be repented of Such conviction as this needs to be laid open, and have its defect shown. After a course of wrong- doing, it is not sufficient for man to come before the Holy One, making mention of his wretchedness, and desire for happiness, but making no mention of liis culpability, and desert of righteous and holy iudorments. It is not enoui^h for the criminal to plead for life, however earnestly, while he avoids

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the acknowledgment that death is his just due. For silence in such a connection as this, is denial. The impenitent thief upon the cross was clamorous for life and happiness, saying, "If thou be the Christ, save thyself and us/' He said nothing concerning the crime that had brought him to a malefactor's death, and thereby showed that it did not weigh heavy upon his conscience. But the real penitent rebuked him, saying: " Dost thou not fear God, see- ing: thou art in the same condemnation ? And we indeed justly ; for we receive the due reward of our deeds." And then followed that meek and broken- hearted supplication : " Lord remember me," which drew forth the world-renowned answer: "This day shalt thou be with me in paradise."

In the fact, then, that man's experience of sin is so liable to be defective upon the side of guilt, we find another necessity for the teaching of the Holy Spirit; for a spiritual agency that cannot be de- ceived, which pierces to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and is a discerner of the real intent and feeling of the heart.

11. In the second place, man needs the influences of the Holy Spirit, in order \\12Xl1e may actually ap- propriate Clirisfs atonement for sin.

The feeling of ill-desert, of which we have spo- ken, requires an expiation, in order to its extinction, precisely as the burning sensation of thirst needs the cup of cold water, in order that it may be allayed. When the sense of guilt is awakened in its pure

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and genuine form, by the Holy Spirit's operation, the soul craves the atonement, — it xoants the dying Lamb of God. We often speak of a believer's longings after purity, after peace, after joy. There is an appetency for them. In like manner, there is in the illuminated and guilt-smitten conscience an appetency for the piacular work of Christ, as that which alone can give it pacification. Contemplafced from this point of view,there is not a more rational doctrine within the whole Christian system, than that of the Atonement. Anything that ministers to a distinct and legitimate craving in man is rea- sonable, and necessary. That theorist, therefore, who would evince the unreasonableness of the aton- ing work of the Redeemer, must fii st evince the un- reasonableness of the consciousness of guilt, and of the judicial craving of the conscience. He must show the groundlessness of that fundamental and or- ganic feeling which imparts such a blood-red color to all the religions of the globe ; be they Pagan, Jewish, or Christian. Whenever, thei'efore, this sensation of ill-desert is elicited, and tke soul feels consciously criminal before the Everlasting Judge, the difficulties that beset the doctrine of the Cross all vanish in the craving^ in the appetency^ of the conscience, for acquittal through the substituted suf ferings of the Son of God. He who has been taught l)y the Spii'it respecting the iniquity of sin, and views it in its relations to the Divine holiness, has no wish to be pardoned at the expense of jus-

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tice. His conscience is now jealous for the majesty, of God, and the dignity of His government. He now experimentally understands that great truth which has its foundation in the nature of guilt, and consequently in the method of Redemption, — the great ethical truth, that after an accountable agent has stained himself with crime, there is from the ne- cessity of the case no remission without the satis- faction of law.

But it is one thing to acknowledge this in theory, and even to feel the need of Christ's atonement, and still another thing to really appropriate it. Unbe- lief and despair have great power over a guilt- stricken mind ; and were it not for that Spirit who " takes of the thino;s of Christ and shows them to the soul," sinful man would in every instance suc- cumb under their awful paralysis. For, if the truth and Spirit of Grod should merely convince the sin- ner of his guilt, but never apply the atoning blood of the Redeemer, hell would be in him and he would be in hell. If Grod, coming forth as He justly might only in His judicial character, should confine Him- self to a convicting operation in the conscience, — should make the transgressor feel his guilt, and then leave him to the feeling and with the feeling, for- evermore, — this would be eternal death. And if, as any man shall lie down upon his death-bed, he shall find that owing to his past quenching of the Spirit the illuminating energy of God is searching him, and revealinoc him to himself, but does not as-

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slst liim to look up to tLe Saviour of sinners ; and if, in the day of judgment, as he draws near the bar of an eternal doom, he shall discover that the sense of guilt grows deeper and deeper, while the atoning blood is not applied, — if this shall be the experi- ence of any one upon his death-bed, and in the day of judgment, will he need to be told what he is and whither he is going ?

Now it is with reference to these disclosures that come in like a deluge upon him, that man needs the aids and operation of the Holy Spirit. Ordinarily, nearly the whole of his guilt is latent within him. He is, commonly, undisturbed by conscience ; but it would be a fatal error to infer that therefore he has a clear and innocent conscience. There is a vast amount of undeveloped guilt within every impenitent soul. It is slumbering there, as surely as magnetism is in the magnet, and the electric fluid is in the piled-up thunder-cloud. For there are moments when the sinful soul feels this hid- den criminality, as there are moments when the magnet shows its power, and the thunder-cloud darts its nimble and forked lightnings. Else, why do these pangs and fears shoot and flash through it, every now and then ? Why does the drowning man instinctively ask for God's mercy ? Were his con- science pure and clear from guilt, like that of the angel or the seraph,— were there no latent crime within him, — he would sink into the uufathomed depths of the sea, without the thought of such a cry.

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When the traveller in South America sees the smoke and flame of the volcano, here and there, as he passes along, he is justified in inferring that a vast central fire is burning beneath the whole re- gion. In like manner, when man discovers, as he watches the phenomena of his conscience, that guilt every now and then emerges like a flash of flame into consciousness, filling him with fear and dis- tress,— when he finds that he has no security against this invasion, but that in an hour when he thinks not, and commonly when he is weakest and faintest, in his moments of danger or death, it stings him and wounds him, he is justified in inferring, and he must infer, that the deep places of his spirit, the whole potentiality of his soul is full of crime.

Now, in no condition of the soul is there greater need of the agency of the Comforter (O well named the Comforter), than when all this latency is suddenly manifested to a man. When this deluire of discov- ery comes in, all the billows of doubt, fear, terror, and despair roll over the soul, and it sinks in the deep waters. The sense of guilt, — that awful guilt, which the man has carried al)Out with him for many long years, and which he has trifled with, — now proves too great for him to control. It seizes him like a strong-armed man. If he could only believe that the blood of the Lamb of God expiates all this crime which is so appalling to his mind, he would be at peace instantaneously. But he is unable to believe this. His sin, which heretofore looked

152 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

too small to be noticed, now appears too great to be forgiven. Other men may be pardoned, but not he. He despairs of mercy ; and if he should be left to the natural workings of his own mind ; if he should not be tauglit and assisted by the Holy G-host, in this critical moment, to behold the Lamb of God ; he would despair forever. For this sense of ill- desert, this fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation, with which he is wrestling, is organic to the conscience, and the human will has no more power over it than it has over the sympathetic nerve. Only as he is taught by the Divine Spirit, is he able with perfect calmness to look up from this brink of despair, and say : " There is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. Therefore, being jus- tified by faith we have peace with G-od through our Lord Jesus Christ. I know whom I have be- lieved, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed unto him against that day."

In view of the truths which we have now consid- ered, it is worthy of observation :

1. First, that the Holy Spirit constitutes the tie, andhortd of connection, between man and God. The third Person in the Godhead is very often regarded as more distant from the human soul, than either the Father or the Son. In the history of the doc- trine of the Trinity, the definition of the Holy Spirit, and the discriminatiim of His relations in the econ-

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oiny of tlie Godhead, was not settled until after tlie doctrine of the first and second Persons had been established. Something analogous to this appears in the individual experience. Grod the Father and God the Son are more in the thoughts of many be- lievers, than God the Holy Ghost. And yet, we have seen that in the economy of Redemption, and from the very nature of the case, the soul is brought as close to the Spirit, as to the Father and Son. Nay, it is only through the inward operations of the former, that the latter are made real to the heart and mind of man. Not until the third Person en- lightens, are the second and first Persons beheld. " No man," says St. Paul, " can- say that Jesus is the Lord, but by the Holy Ghost."

The sinful soul is entirely dependent upon the Divine Spirit, and from first to last it is in most in- timate communication with Him during the process of salvation. It is enlightened by His influence ; it is enlivened by Him ; it is empowered by Him to the act of faith in Christ's Person and Work ; it is supported and assisted by Him, in every step of the Christian race ; it is comforted by Him in all trials and tribulations ; and, lastly, it is perfected in holiness, and fitted for the immediate presence of God, by Him. Certainly, then, the believer sh(mld have as full faith in the distinct personality, and immediate efliciency, of the third Person, as he has in that of the first and second. His most affec- tionate feeling should centre upon that Blessed

154 THE IS^ECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

Agent, tbiough whom lie appropriates the blessings that have been provided for sinners by the Father and Son, and without whose influence the Fatlier would have planned the Redemptive scheme, and the Son have executed it, in vain.

2. In the second place, it is deserving of very careful notice that the mjiiienGes of the Holy Spirit TYiay he obtained hij ashing for them. This is the only condition to be complied with. And this gift, furthermore, is peculiar, in that it is invariably be- stowed whenever it is sincerely implored. There are other gifts of God which may be asked for with deep and agonizing desire, and it is not certain that they will be granted. This is the case with tem- poral blessings. A sick man may turn his face to the wall, with Hezekiah, and pray in the bitterness of his soul, for the prolongation of his life, and yet not obtain the answer which Hezekiah received. But no man ever supplicated in the earnestness of his soul for the influences of the Holy Spirit, and was ultimately refused. For this is a gift which it is always safe to gr^int. It involves a spiritual and everlasting good. It is the gift of righteousness, of the fear and love of God in the heart. There is no danger in such a bestowment. It inevitably promotes the glory of God. Hence our Lord, after bidding his hearers to " ask," to " seek," and to " knock," adds, as the encouraging reason why they should do so : " For, every one that asketh receiveth ; and he that seeketh, [always] iin.deth ;

THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 155

and to liiiu that knocketli, it shall [certainly] be opened." This is a reason that cannot be as- signed in the instance of other prayers. Our Lord commands his disciples to pray for their daily bread ; and we know that the children of God do generally find their wants supplied. Still, it would not be true that every one who in the sincerity of his soul has asked for daily bread has received it. The children of God have sometimes died of hun- ger. But no soul that has ever hungered for the bread of heaven, and supplicated for it, has been sent empty away. Nay more : Whoever finds it in his heart to ask for the Holy Spirit may know, from this very fact, that the Holy Spirit has antici- pated him, and has prompted the very prayer itself. And think you that God will not grant a request which He himself has inspired ? And therefore, again, it is, that every one who asks invariably re- ceives.

3. The third remark suggested by the subject we have been considering is, that it is exceedingly haz- ardous to resist Divine influences. " Quench not the Spirit" is one of the most imperative of the Apostolic injunctions. Our Lord, after saying that a word spoken against Himself is pardonal^le, adds, that he that blasj)hemes against the Holy Ghost shall never be foro-iven, neither in this world nor in the world to come. The New Testament sur- rounds the su])ject of Divine influences with very great solemnity. It represents the resisting of the

156 THE NECESSITY OF DIVIxXE INFLUENCES.

Holy Ghost to be as heinous, and dangerous, as the trampling upon Christ's blood.

There is a reason for this. We have seen that in this operation upon the mind and heart, God comes as near, and as close to man, as it is possible for Him to come. Now to grieve or o^^pose such a merciful, and such an inward agency as this, is to offer the highest possible affront to the majesty and the mercy of God. It is a great sin to slight the gifts of Divine providence, — to misuse health, strength, wealth, talents. It is a deep sin to con- temn the truths of Divine Revelation, by which the soul is made wise unto eternal life. It is a fearful sin to despise the claims of God the Fath^er, and God the Son. But it is a transcendent sin to re- sist and beat back, after it has heen given^ that m}'s- terious, that holy, that immediately Divine infiu- ence, by which alone the heart of stone can be made the heart of flesh. For, it indicates same- thing more than the ordinary carelessness of a sin- ner. It evinces a determined ohstiiiacy in sin, — nay, a Satanic opposition to God and goodness. It is of such a guilt as 'this, that the apostle John remarks : " There is a sin unto death ; I do not say that one should pray for it." ^

' The sin against the Holy the third Person of the Trinity

Ghost is uiipjir(h)iiable, not be- wliich is the only power adequate

cause there is a grade of guilt in to tlie extirpation of sin from tiie

it too scarlet to be washed wliite limiiaii soul. The sin against tiio

by Christ's bh)od of atonement Holy (ihost is tantanunmt, there-

but, because it implies a total fore, to enrhisting sin. And it

quenching of that operation of is noteworthy, that in Mark iii.

THE KECESSITY OF DIVIjS'E INFLUENCES. 157

Again, It is exceedingly hazardous to resist Divine influences, because they depend wholly uj)on the good pleasui-e of God, and not at all upon any es- tablished and uniform law. We must not, for a moment, suppose that the operations of the Holy Spirit upon the human soul are like those of the forces of nature upon the molecules of matter. They are not uniform and unintermittent, like gravitation and chemical affinity. We may avail ourselves of the powers of nature at any moment, because they are steadily operative by an established law. They are laboring incessantly, and we may enter into their labors at any instant we please. But it is not so with supernatural and gracious influences. God's awakening and renewing power does not operate with the uniformity of those blind natural laws which He has impressed upon the dull clod beneath our feet. God is not one of the forces of nature. He is a Pei'son and a Sovereign. His special and highest action upon the human soul is not uniform. His Spirit, He expressly teaches us, does not always strive with man. It is a wind that bloweth when and where it listeth. For this reason, it is danger- ous to the religious interests of the soul, in the highest degree, to go counter to any impulses of the Spirit, however slight, or to neglect any of His admonitions, however gentle. If God in mercy has

29 the reading dfinpTrjuaTog, instead mann, Tiscliendorf, and Tregelles.

of Kplaeug, is supported by a major- " He tliat sliall blaspheme against

ity of the oldest manuscripts and the Holy Ghost. . . .is in danger

versions, and is adopted by Laeh- of eternal sm."

158 THE iSECESSITY OF DIVINE LNFLUENCES.

once come in upon a thoughtless mind, and wa- kened it to eternal realities ; if He has enlightened it to perceive the things that make for its peace ; and that mind slights this merciful interference, and stifles down these inward teaching's, then God with- draws, and whether He will ever return again to that soul depends upon His mere sovereign volition. He has bound himself by no promise to do so. He has established no uniform law of operation, in the case. It is true that He is very pitiful and of ten- der mercy, and waits and bears long with the sin- ner ; and it is also true, that He is terribly severe and just, when He thinks it proper to be so, and says to those who have despised His Spirit : " Because I have called and ye refused, and have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded, I will laugh at yom* calamity, and mock when your fear cometh."

Let no one say : " God has promised to bestow the Holy Ghost to every one who asks : I will ask at some future time." To " ask" for the Holy Spirit implies some already existing desire that He would enter the mind and convince of sin, and convert to God. It implies some craving^ some yearning^ for Divine influences ; and this implies some measure of such influence already bestowed. Man asks for the Holy Spirit, only as he is moved by the Holy Spirit. The Divine is ever prevenient to the human. Suppose now, that a man resists these influences when tliey are already at work within him, and

THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES. 159

says : " I will seek them at a more convenient sea- son." Think you, that when that convenient season comes round, — when life is waning, and the world is receding, and the eternal gulf is yawning, — think you that that man who has already resisted grace can make his own heart to yearn tor it, and his soul to crave it ? Do men at such times find that sincere desires, and longings, and aspirations, come at their beck? Can a man say, with any prospect of success : " I will now quench out this seriousness which the Spirit of God has produced in my mind, and will bring it up again ten years hence. I will stifle this drawing of the Eternal Father of my soul which I now feel at the roots of my being, and it shall re-appear at a future day."

No ! While it is true that any one who " asks," who really wants a spiritual blessing, will obtain it, it is equally true that a man may have no heart to ask, — may have no desire, no yearning, no aspira- tion at all, and be unable to produce one. In this case there is no promise. Whosoever thirsts^ and only he who thirsts, can obtain the water of life. Cherish, therefore, the faintest influences and opera- tions of the Comforter. If He enlightens your con- science so that it reproaches you for sin, seek to have the work go on. Never resist any such con- victions, and never attempt to stifle them. If the Holy Spirit urges you to confession of sin before God, yield instantaneously to His urging, and pour

160 THE NECESSITY OF DIVINE INFLUENCES.

out your soul before the All-Merciful. And when He says, " Behold the Lamb of God," look Avhere He points, and be at peace and at rest. The secret of all spiritual success is an immediate and uniform submission to the influences of the Holv Ghost.

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW

Hebrews vii. 19.— "For the law made nothing perfect, but the bringing in of a better hope did ; by the which we draw nigh to God."

It is the aim of the Epistle to tlie Hebrews, to teach the insufficiency of the Jewish Dispensation to save the human race from the wrath of God and the power of sin, and the all-sufficiency of the Gos- pel Dispensation to do this. Hence, the writer of this Epistle endeavors with special effort to make the Hebrews feel the weakness of theii" old and much esteemed religion, and to show them that the only benefit which God intended by its establish- ment was, to point men to the perfect and final re- ligion of the Gospel. This he does, by examining the parts of the Old Economy. In the first place, the sacrifices under the Mosaic law were not de- signed to extinguish the sense of guilt, — " for it is not possible that the blood of bulls and goats should take away sin,"— but were intended merely to awaken the sense of guilt, and thereby to lead the Jew to look to that mercy of God which at a fu- ture day was to be exhibited in the sacrifice of hia

1G2 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW

eternal Son. The Jewish i?rie8tlioo(l^ again, stand- ing between the sinner and God, were not able to avert the Divine displeasure, — for as sinners they were themselves exposed to it. They could only typify, and direct the guilty to, the great High Priest, the Messiah, whom Grod's mercy would send in the fulness of time. Lastly, the moral law^ proclaimed amidst the thunderino-s and lia-htnino-s of Sinai, had no power to secure obedience, but only a fearful power to produce the consciousness of disobedience, and of exposure to a death far more awful than that threatened against the man who should touch the burning mountain.

It was, thus, the design of God, by this legal and preparatory dispensation, to disclose to man his ruined and helpless condition, and his need of look- ing to Him for everything that pertains to redemp- tion. And he did it, by so arranging the dispensa- tion that the Jew might, as it were, make the trial and see if he could be his own Redeemer. He in stituted a long and burdensome round of observan- ces, by means of which the Jew might, if possil)le, extinguish the remorse of his conscience, and pro- duce the peace of God in his soul. God seems by the sacrifices under the law, and the many and costly offerings which the Jew was commanded to bring into the temple of the Lord, to have virtually said to him : " Thou art guilty, and My wrath right- eously abides within thy conscience, — yet, do what thou canst to free thyself from it ; free thyself from

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 163

it if thou canst ; bring an offering and come before Me. But wlien thou hast found that thy conscience still remains perturbed and unpacified, and thy heart still continues corrupt and sinful, then look away from thy agency and thy offering, to My clem- ency and My offering, — trust not in these finite sac- rifices of the lamb and the goat, but let them merely remind thee of the infinite sacrifice which in the fulness of time I will provide for the sin of the world, — and thy peace shall be as a river, and thy righteousness as the waves of the sea."

But the proud and legal spirit of the Jew blind- ed him, and he did not perceive tlie true meaning and intent of his national religion. He made it an end, instead of a mere means to an end. Hence, it became a mechanical round of observances, kept up T)y custom, and eventually lost the power, which it had in the earlier and better ages of the Jewish commonwealth, of awakening the feeling of guilt and the sense of the need of a Redeemer. Thus, in the days of our Saviour's appearance upon the earth, the chosen guardians of this religion, which was in- tended to make men humble, and feel their person al ill-desert and need of mercy, had become self-sat- isfied and self-righteous. A leligion designed to prompt the utterance of the greatest of its proph- ets : " Woe is me ! I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips," now prompted the utterance of the Pharisee : " I thank Thee that I am not as other men are."

164 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW.

The Jew, in the times of our Saviour and Lis Apostles, had thus entirely mistaken the nature and purpose of the Old dispensation, and hence was the most bitter opponent of the New. He rested in the formal and ceremonial sacrifice of bulls and goats, and therefore counted the blood of the Son of God an unholy thing. He thought to appear before Him in whose sight the heavens are not clean, clothed in his own righteousness, and hence despised the righteousness of Christ. In reality, he appealed to the justice of God, and therefore rejected the relig- ion of mercy.

But, this spirit is not confined to the Jew. It pervades the human race. Man is naturally a le- galist. He desires to be justified by his own char- acter and his own works, and reluctates at the thought of being accepted upon the ground of an- other's merits. This Judaistic spirit is seen wher- ever there is none of the publican's feeling when he said, " God be merciful to me a sinner." All confi- dence in personal virtue, all appeals to civil integ- rity, all attendance upon the ordinances of the Chris- tian religion without the exercise of the Christian's penitence and faith, is, in reality, an exhibition of that same legal unevangelic spirit which in its ex- treme form inflated the Pharisee, and led him to tithe mint anise and cummin. Man's so o-eneral re- jection of the Sou of God as suflfering the just for the unjust, as the manifestation of the Divine clem- ency towards a criminal, is a sio;n either that he is

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 165

insensible of bis gnilt, or else that being somewhat conscious of it he thinks to cancel it himself.

Still, think and act as men may, the method of God in the Gospel is the only method. Other foun- dation can no man lay than is laid. For it rests upon stubborn facts, and inexorable principles. (jrod knows that however anxiously a transgressor may strive to pacify his conscience, and prepare it for the judgment-day, its deep remorse can be re- moved only by the blood of incarnate Deity ; that however sedulously he may attempt to obey the law, he will utterly fail, unless he is inwardly renewed and strengthened by the Holy Ghost. He knows that mere bare law can make no sinner perfect again, but that only the bringing in of a " better hope " can, — a hope by the which we draw nigh to God.

The text leads us to inquire : Why cannot the moral law make fallen 7nan perfect? Or, in other words : Why cannot the ten cormnandme7its sa/ve a simmer f

That we may answer this question, we must first understand what is meant by a perfect man. It is one in whom there is no defect or fault of any kind, — one, therefore, who has no perturbation in his conscience, and no sin in his heart. It is a man who is entirely at peace with himself, and with God. and whose affections are in perfect conformity with the Divine law.

But fallen man, man as we find him universally,

166 TOE IMPOTENCE OF THE I>AW.

is characterized by both a remorseful conscience and an evil heart. His conscience distresses him, not indeed uniformly and constantly but, in the great emergencies of his life, — in the hour of sickness, danger, death, — and his heart is selfish and corrupt continually. He lacks ^^erfection, therefore, in two particulars ; first, in respect to acquittal at the bar of justice, and secondly, in respect to inward purity. That, therefore, which proposes to make him per- fect again, must quiet the sense of guilt upon valid grounds, and must produce a holy character. If the method fails in either of these two respects, it fails altogether in making a perfect man.

But how can the moral law, or the ceremonial law, or both united, produce within the human soul the cheerful, liberating, sense of acquittal, and re- conciliation with God's justice ? Why, the very function and office-work of law, in all its forms, is to condemn and terrify the transgressor ; how then can it calm and soothe him? Or, is there anything in the performance of duty, — in the act of obeying law, — that is adapted to produce this result, by tak- ing away guilt ? Suppose that a murderer could and should perform a perfectly holy act, would it be any relief to his anguished conscience, if he should offer it as an oblation to Eternal Justice for the sin that is ])ast ? if he should plead it as an off- set for having killed a man ? When we ourselves review the past, and see that we have not kept the law up to the present point in our lives, is the gnaw-

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 1G7

iiig of the worm to be stopped, by resolving to keep it, and actually keeping it from this point ? Can suck a use of the law as this is, — can the perform- ance of good works, imaginary or real ones, im- perfect or perfect ones, — discharge the office of an ato?i€nie7it, and so make us perfect in the forum of conscience, and fill us with a deep and lasting sense of reconciliation with the offended majesty and jus- tice of God ? Plainly not. For there is nothing compensatory, nothing cancelling, nothing of the nature of a satisfaction of justice, in the best obe- dience that was ever rendered to moral law, by saint, angel, or seraph. J^ecause the creature owes the whole. He is obligated from the very first in- stant of his existence, onward and evermore, to love God supremely, and to obey him perfectly in every act and element of his being. Therefore, the per- fectly obedient saint, angel, and seraph must eacli say: "I am an unprofitable servant, I have done only that which it was my duty to do ; I can make no amends for past failures ; I can do no work that is meritorious and atoning." Obedience to law, then, by a creature, and still less by a sinner, can never atone for the sins that are past ; can never make the guilty perfect " in things pertaining to conscience." And if a man, in this indirect and roundabout manner, neglects the provisions of the gospel, neglects the oblation of Jesus Christ, and betakes himself to the discharge of his own duty as a substitute therefor, he only finds that the flame

1G8 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW

burns hotter, and the fang of the worm is sharper. If lie looks to the moral law in any form, and by any method, that he may get quit of his remorse and liis fears of judgment, the feeling of unreconcilia- iion with justice, and the fearful looking-for of judg- ment is only made more vivid and deep. Whoever attempts the discharge of duties for the purpose of atoning for Ids sins takes a direct method of increas- ing the j)ains and perturbations which he seeks to remove. The more he thinks of law, and the more he endeavors to obey it for the purpose of purchas- ing the pardon of past transgression, the more wretched does he become. Look into the lacerated conscience of Martin Luther before he found the Cross, examine the anxiety and gloom of Chalmers before he saw the Lamb of God, for proof that this is so. These men, at first, were most earnest in their use of the law in order to re- instate themselves in right relations with God's justice. But the more they toiled in this direction, the less they succeed- ed. Burning with inward anguish, and with God's arrows sticking fast in him, shall the transgressor get relief from the attribute of Divine justice, and the qualities of law ? Shall the ten commandments of Sinai, in any of their forms or uses, send a cooling and calmino' virtue throni^h the hot conscience? With these kindling flashes in his guilt-stricken spirit, shall he run into the very identical fire that kindled them 1 Shall he try to quench them in that "Tophet which is ordained of old; which is made

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 1(39

deep and large ; the pile of wbicli is fire and much wood, and the breath of the Lord like a stream of brimstone doth kindle it ? " And yet such is, in reality, the attempt of every man who, upon being convicted in his conscience of guilt before God, en- deavors to attain peace by resolutions to alter his course of conduct, and strenuous endeavors to obey the commands of God, — in short by relying upon tlie law in any form, as a means of reconcilia- tion. Such is the suicidal efifort of every man who substitutes the law for the gospel, and ex- pects to produce within himself the everlasting peace of God, by anything short of the atonement of God.

Let us fix it, then, as a fact, that the feeling of culpability and unreconciliation can never be re- moved, so long as we do not look entirely away from our own character and works to the mere pure mercy of God in the blood of Christ. The trans- gressor can never atone for crime by anything that he can suifer, or anything that he can do. He can never establish a ground of justification, a reason why he should be forgiven, by his tears, or his prayers, or his acts. Neither the law, nor his attempts to obey tire law, can re-instate him in his original relations to justice, and make him perfect again in respect to his conscience. The ten com- mandments can never silence his inward misgivings, and his moral fears ; for they are given for the very pui'pONe of producing misgivings, a:id causing feara.

170 THE BIPOTE^XE OF THE LAW.

"The law woiketh wrath." And if this truth and fact be clearly perceived, and boldly acknowledged to his own mind, it will cut him off from all these legal devices and attempts, and will shut him up to the Divine mercy and the Divine promise in Christ, where alone he is safe.

We have thus seen that one of the two things necessary in order that apostate man may become perfect again, — viz., the pacification of his con- science,— cannot be obtained in and by the law, in any of its forms or uses. Let us now examine the other thing necessaiy in order to human perfection, and see what the law can do towards it.

The other requisite, in order that fallen man may become perfect again, is a holy heart and will. Can the moral law originate this ? That we may rightly answer the question, let us remember that a^ holy will is one that keeps the law of God spontaneously and that a perfect heart is one that sends for tli holy affections and pure thoughts as naturally as the sin- ful heart sends forth unholy affections and impure thoughts. A holy will, like an evil will, is a won- derful and wonderfully fertile power. It does not consist in an ability to make a few or many sepa- rate resolutions of obedience to the divine law, but in being itself one great inclination and determina- tion continually and mightily going forth. A holy will, therefore, is one that froni its very natui'e and .wontaneity seeks God, and the glory of God. It does not even need to make a specific resolution to

THE IMPOTEIfCE OF THE LATV. 171

obey ; any more than an affectionate child needs to resolve to obey its father.

In like manner, a perfect and holy heai't is a fjir more profound and capacious thing than men who have never seriously tried to obtain it deem it td be. It does not consist in the possession of a few or many holy thoughts mixed wdth some sinful ones, or in having a few or many holy desires together with some corrupt ones. A perfect heart is one undivi- ded agency, and does not produce, as the imperfectly sanctified heart of the Christian does, fruits of holi- ness and fruits of sin, holy thoughts and unholy thouo-hts. It is itself a root and centre of holiness, and notliing but goodness springs up from it. The angels of God are totally holy. Their wills are un- ceasingly going forth towards Him with ease and delight ; their hearts are unintermittently gushing out emotions of love, and feelings of adoration, and thoughts of reverence, and therefore the song that they sing is unceasing, and the smoke of their in- cense ascendeth forever and ever.

Such is the holy will, and the perfect heart, which fallen man must obtain in order to be fit for heaven. To this complexion must he come at last. And now we ask : Can the law generate all this excel- lence within the human soul % In order to answer this question, we must consider the nature of law, and the manner of its operation. The law, as anti- thetic to the gospel, and as the word is employed in the text, is in its nature mandatory and minatory.

172 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW.

It commands, and it threatens. This is the style of its operation. Can a perfect heart be originated in a sinner by these two methods ? Does the stern behest, " Do this or die," secure his willing and joy- ful obedience ? On the contraiy, the very fact that the law of God comes up before him coupled thus with a threatening evinces that his aversion and hostility are most intense. As the Apostle says, " The law is not made for a righteous man ; but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and for sinners." Were man, like the angels on high, sweetly obedient to the Divine will, there would be no arming of law with terror, no proclamation of ten commandments amidst thunderings and light- nings. He would be a law unto himself, as all the heavenly host are, — the law working impulsively within him by its own exceeding lawfulness and beauty. The very fact that God, in the instance of man, is compelled to emphasize the pemdtij along with the statute, — to say, " Keep my commandments tipon ixiuh of eternal deatli^^'' — is proof conclusive that man is a I'ebel, and intensely so.

And now what is the effect of this combination of command and threatening upon the agent ? Is he moulded by it? Does it congenially sway and incline him? On the contrary, is he not excited to opposition by it ? When the commandment ^" conies^'' loaded down with menace and damnation, does not sin " i-evive," as the Apostle affirms ? ^ Ar-

' Rom. vii. 'J- 12.

TnE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 1Y3

rest the transgressor in the very act of disobedience, and ring in his ears the "Thou shalt not^^' of the decalogue, and does he find that the law has the power to alter his inclination, to overcome his car- nal mind, and make him perfect in holiness ? On the contrary, the more you ply him with the stem command, and the more you emphasize the awful threatening, the more do you make him conscious of inward sin, and awaken his depravity. " The law," — as St. Paul affirms in a very remarkable text, — "is the strength of sin,'' -^ instead of being its de- struction. Nay, he had not even (re) known sin, but by the law : for he had not known lust, except the law had said, "Thou shalt not lust." The com- mandment stimulates instead of extirpating his hostility to the Divine government; and so long as the mere command, and the mere threat, — which, as the hymn tells us, is all the law can do, — are brought to bear, the depravity of the rebellious heart becomes more and more apparent, and more and more intensified.

There is no more touching poem in all literature than that one in which the pensive and moral Schiller portrays the struggle of an ingenuous youth who would find the source of moral purification in the moral law ; who would seek the power that can transform him, in the mere imperatives of his con- science, and the mere strugglings and spasms of his own will. He represents him as endeavoring earn-

' 1 Cor. XV. 56.

174 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW.

estly and long to feel the force of obligation, raid as toiling sedulously to school himself into virtue, by the bare power, by the dead lift, of duty. But the longer he tries, the more he loathes the restraints of law. Virtue, instead of growing lovely to him, becomes more and more severe, austere, and repel- lant. His life, as the Scripture phrases it, is " under law," and not under love. There is nothing spon- taneous, nothing willing, nothing genial in his re- ligion. He does not enjoy religion, but he endures religion. Conscience does not, in the least, reno- vate his will, but merely checks it, or goads it. He becomes wearied and worn, and conscious thai after all his self-scliooling he is the same creature at heart, in his disposition and affections, that he was at the commencement of the effort, he cries out, " O Vir- tue, take back thy crown, and let me sin." ^ The tired and disgusted soul would once more do a spontaneous thing.

Was, then, that which is good made death unto this youth, l)y a Divine arrangement ? Is this the original and necessary relation which law sustains to the will and affections of au accountable creature ? Must the pure and holy law of God, from the very nature of things, be a weariness and a curse ? God forbid. But sin that it might appear siu, working death in the sinner by that Avhich is good, — that sin by the commandment might become, might lie seen to be, exceeding sinful. The law is like a chem-

' iScuiLLEB : Der Kampf.

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 175

ical test. It eats into sin enough to show what sin is, and there stops. The lunar caustic bites into the dead flesh of the mortified limb ; but there is no healing virtue in the lunar caustic. The moral law makes no inward alterations in a sinner. In its own distinctive and proper action upon the heart and will of an apostate being, it is fitted only to elicit and exasperate his existing enmity. It can, therefore, no more be a source of sanctification, than it can be of justification.

Of what use, then, is the law to a fallen man ? — some one will ask. Why is the commandment enunciated in the Scriptures, and why is the Chris- tian ministry perpetually preaching it to men dead in trespasses and sins ? If the law can subdue no man's obstinate will, and can renovate no man's corrupt heart, — if it can make nothing perfect in human character, — then, " wherefore serveth the law 1 '' " It was added because of transgressions," — says the Apostle in answer to this very question.^ It is preached and forced home in order to defect sin, but not to remove it ; to bring men to a con- sciousness of the evil of their hearts, but not to change their hearts. " For," continues the Apostle, " if there had been a law given which could have given /{/<?," — which could produce a transformation of character, — " then verily righteousness should have been by the law." It is not because the stern and threatening commandment can impart spiritual

* Galatians iii. 19.

176 THE IMPOTEJSTCE OF THE LAW.

vitality to the sinnei", but because it can produce witliin him the keen vivid sense of spiritual death, that it is enunciated in the word of God, and pro- claimed from the Christian pulpit. The Divine law is waved like a flashing sword before the eyes of man, not because it can make him alive but, because it can slay him, that he may then be made alive, not by the law but by the Holy Ghost, — by the Breath that cometh from the four winds and breathes on the slain.

It is easy to see, by a moment's reflection, that, from the nature of the case, the moral law cannot be a source of spiritual life and sanctification to a soul that has lost these. For law primarily sup- poses life, supposes an obedient inclination, and therefore does not produce it. It is not the function of any law to impart that moral force, that right disposition of the heart, by which its command is to be obeyed. The State, for example, enacts a law against murder, but this mere enactment does not, and cannot, produce a benevolent disposition in the citizens of the commonwealth, in case they are des- titute of it. How often do we hear the remark, that it is impossible to legislate either morality or religion into the people. When the Supreme Gov- ernor first placed man under the obligations and sovereignty of law. He created him in His own image and likeness : endowing him with that holy heart and right inclinatitni which obeys the law of God with ease and deliii'lit. God made man u})-

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 177

right, and in this state he could and did keep the commands of God perfectly. If, therefore, by any s\ibseqnent action upon their part, mankind have gone out of the primary relationship in which they stood to law, and have by their apostasy lost all holy sympathy with it, and all affectionate disposi- tion to obey it, it only remains for the law (not to change along with them, but) to continue immuta- bly the same pure and righteous thing, and to say, " Obey perfectly, and thou shalt live ; disobey in a single instance, and thou shalt die."

But the text teaches us, that although the law can make no sinful man perfect, either upon the side of justification, or of sanctification, "the bring- ing in of a better hope " can. This hope is the evan- gelic hope, — the yearning desire, and tbe humble trust, — to be forgiven through the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, and to be sanctified by the indwelling power of the Holy Ghost. A simple, but a most powerful thing ! Does the law, in its abrupt and terrible operation in my conscience, start out the feeling of guiltiness until I throb with anguish, and moi'al fear ? I hope, I trust, I ask, to be par- doned through the blood of the Eternal Son of God my Redeemer. I will answer all these accusations of law and conscience, by pleading what my Lord has done. .

Again, does the law search me, and probe me, and elicit me, and reveal me, until I would shrink out of the sight of God and of myself? I hope, I

178 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW.

trust, I ask, to be made pure as the angels, spotless as the seraphim, by the transforming grace of the Holy Spirit. This confidence in Christ's Person and Work is the anchor, — an anchor that was never yet wrenched from the clefts of the Rock of Ages, and never will be through tke aeons of aeons. By this hope, which goes away from self, and goes away from the law, to Christ's oblation and the Holy Spirit's energy, we do indeed draw very nigh to God, — " heart to heart, spii'it to spirit, life to life."

1. The unfolding of this text of Scripture shows, in the first place, the importance of having a dis- tinct and discriminating co7'icejption of law^ and es- pecially of its 'projper function in reference to a sin- fid being. Very much is gained when we under- stand precisely what the moral law, as taught in the Scriptures, and written in our consciences, can do, and cannot do, towards our salvation. It can do nothing positively and efficiently. It cannot ex- tinguish a particle of our guilt, and it cannot purge away a particle of our corruption. Its operation is wholly negative and preparatory. It is merely a schoolmaster to conduct us to Christ. And the more definitely this truth and fact is fixed in our minds, the more intelligently shall we proceed in our use of law and conscience.

2. In the second place, the unfolding of this text shows the importance of using tlie Jaw faitlifidly and fearless! I / iritltin its own limits, and in accord- ance with its proper function. It is frequently asked

THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW. 179

what the sinner shall do in the work of salvation. The answer is nigh thee, in thy mouth, and in thy heart. Be continually applying the law of God to your personal character and conduct. Keep an act- ive-and a searching conscience within your sinful -soul. Use the high, broad, and strict commandment of God as an instrumentality by which all ease, and all indifference, in sin shall be banished from the breast. Employ all this apparatus of torture, as perhaps it may seem to you in some sorrowful hours, and break up that moral drowze and lethargy which is ruining so many souls. And then cease this work, the instant you have experimentally found out that the law reaches a limit beyond which it cannot go, — that it forgives none of the sins which it detects, produces no change in the heart whose vileness it reveals, and makes no lost sinner perfect again. Having used the law legiti- mately, for purposes of illumination and conviction merely, leave it forever as a source of justification and sanctification, and seek these in Christ's atone- ment, and the Holy Spirit's gracious operation in the heart. Then sin shall not have dominion ov^er you; for you shall not be under law, but under grace. After tha,t faith is come, ye are no longer under a schoolmaster. For ye are then the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.^

How simple are the terms of salvation ! But then they presuppose this work of the law, — this

' Galatians iii. 2 1, 26.

180 THE IMPOTENCE OF THE LAW.

guilt-smitten conscience, and this wearying sense of bondage to siu. It is easy for a thirsty soul to drink down the draught of cold water. Nothing is simpler, nothing is more grateful to the sensations. But suppose that the soul is satiated, and is not a thirsty one. Then, nothing is more forced and re- pelling than this same draught. So is it with the provisions of the gospel. Do we feel ourselv^es to be guilty beings ; do we hunger, and do we thirst for the expiation of our sins ? Then the blood of Christ is drink indeed, and his flesh is meat with emphasis. But are we at ease and self-contented ? Then nothing is more distasteful than the terms of salvation. Christ is a root out of dry ground. And so long as we remain in this unfeeling and torpid state, salvation is an utter impossibility. The seed of the gospel cannot germinate and grow upon a rock.

SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD'S PRESENCE

Isaiah, i. 11. — "Gome now, and let us reason togetlier, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as wliite aa^ snow; though they be red like crimson, tliey shall be as wool."

These words were at first addressed to tlie Chnrcli of God. The prophet Isaiah begins his prophecy, by calling upon the heavens and the earth to witness the exceeding sinfulness of God's chosen people. " Hear, O heavens, and give ear O earth : for the Lord hath spoken ; I have nourished and brought up children, and they have rebelled against me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib : but Israel doth not know, my people doth not consider." Such ingratitude and sin as this, he naturally supposes would shock the very heavens and earth.

Then follows a most vehement and terrible re- buke. The elect people of God are called " Sod- om," and " Gomorrah." " Hear the word of the Lord ye rulers of Sodom : give ear unto the law of our God ye people of Gomorrah. Why should ye

182 SELF-SCRUTESTY US' GOD's PRESENCE.

be stricken any more? ye will revolt more and more." This outflow of holy displeasure would prepare us to expect an everlastingreprobacy of the rebellious and unfaithful Church, but it is strangely followed by the most yearning and melting entreaty ever addressed by the Most High to the creatures of His footstool: "Come now, and let us reason to- gether, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool."

These words have, however, a wider application ; and while the unfaithful children of God ou^cht to ponder them long and well, it is of equal import- ance that " the aliens from the commonwealth of Israel " should reflect upon them, and see their general application to all transgressors, so long as they are imder the Gospel dispensation. Let us, then, consider two of the plain lessons taught, in these words of the prophet, to every unpardoned man.

I. The text represents God as saying to the trans- gressor of his law, " Come and let us reason togetk- ^r." The first lesson to be learned, consequently, is the duty of examining our moral character and conduct, along with God.

When a responsil)le being has made a ^vi'ong use of his powers, nothing is more reasonable than that he should call himself to account for this abuse. Nothing, certainly, is more necessary. There can be no amendment for the future, until the past has

SELF-SCRTTTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. 183

been cared for. But that this examination may be both thorough and profitable, it must be made in company xvitli tJie Searcher of hearts.

For there are always two beings who are con- cerned with sin ; the being who commits it, and the Being against whom it is committed. We sin, in- deed, against ourselves ; against our own conscience, and against our own best interest. But we sin in a yet higher, and more terrible sense, against An- other than ourselves, compared with whose majes- ty all of our faculties and interests, both in time and eternity, are altogether nothing and vanity. It is not enough, therefore, to refer our sin to the law written on the heart, and there stop. We must ul- timately pass beyond conscience itself, to God, and say, " Against Thee have I sinned." It is not the highest expression of the religious feeling, when we say, " How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against my conscience \ " He alone has reached the summit of vision who looks beyond all finite limits, however wide and distant, beyond all finite facul- ties however noble and elevated, and says, " How can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God?

Whenever, therefore, an examination is made into the nature of moral evil as it exists in the indi- vidual heart, both pai'ties concerned should share in the examination. The soul, as it looks within, should invite the scrutiu}^ of God also, and as fast as it makes discoveries of its transgression and cor-

184 SELF-SCRUTIIS^Y IN GOD^S PRESENCE.

ruption should realize that the Holy One sees also. Such a joint examination as this produces a very- keen and clear sense of the evil and guilt of sin. Conscience indeed makes cowards of us all, but when the eye of God is felt to l^e upon us, it smites us to the ground. " When Thou with rebukes," — says the Psalmist, — " dost correct man for his ini- quity, Thou makest his beauty to consume away like a moth." One great reason why the feeling which the moralist has towards sin is so tame and languid, when compared with the holy abhorrence of the regenerate mind, lies in the fact that he has not contemplated human depravity in company with a sin-hating Jehovah. At the very utmost, he has been shut up merely with a moral sense which he has insulated from its dread ground and support, — the personal character and holy emotions of God. What wonder is it, then, that this finite faculty should lose much of its temper and severity, and though still condemning sin (for it must do this, if it does anything), fails to do it with that spirit- ual energy which characterizes the conscience when God is felt to be co-present and co-operating. So it is, in other provinces. We feel the guilt of an evil action more sharply, when we know that a fellow- man saw us commit it, than when we know tliat no one but ourselves is cognizant of the deed. The flush of shame often rises into our face, upon learn- ing accidentally that a fellow-being was looking at us, when we did the wrong action without any blush.

SELF-SCEUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. 185

How mucli more criminal, then, do we feel, when distinctly aware that the pure and holy God knows our transgression. How much clearer is our per- ception of the nature of moral evil, when we inves- tigate it along with Him whose eyes are a flame of fire.

It is, consequently, a very solemn moment, when the human spirit and the Eternal Mind are reason- ing together about the inward sinfulness. When the soul is shut up along with the Holy One of Israel, there are great searchings of heart. Man is honest and anxious at such a time. His usual thoughtlessness and torpidity upon the subject of religion leaves him, and he becomes a serious and deeply-interested creature. Would that the multi- tudes who listen so languidly to the statements of the pulpit, upon these themes of sin and guilt, might be closeted with the Everlasting Judge, in silence and in solemn reflection. You who have for years been told of sin, but are, perhaps, still as indiftbrent regarding it as if there were no stain upon the conscience, — would that you might enter into an examination of yourself, alone with your Maker. Then would you become as serious, and as anxious, as you will be in that moment when you shall be informed that the last hour of your life upon earth has come.

Another effect of this " reasoning too-ether " with God, respecting our character and conduct, is to reudei' our views discriminating. The action of

186

the mind is not only intense, it is also intelligent. Strange as it may sound, it is yet a fact, that a re- view of our past lives conducted under the eye of God, and with a recognition of His presence and over- si2:ht, serves to deliver the mind from confusion and panic, and to fill it with a calm and rational fear. This is of great value. For, when a man begins to be excited upon the subject of religion, — it may be for the first time, in his unreflecting and heedless life, — he is oftentimes terribly excited. He is now brought suddenly into the midst of the most solemn things. That sin of his, the jenormity of which he had never seen before, now reveals itself in a most frightful form, and he feels as the mur- derer does who wakes in the mornino^ and beo-ins to realize that he has killed a man. That holy Being, of whose holiness he had no proper concep- tion, now rises dim and awful before his half-open- ed inward eye, and he trembles like the pagan be- fore the unknown God whom he ignorantly wor- ships. That eternity, which he had heard spoken of with total indifference, now flashes penal flames in his face. Taken and held in this state of mind, the transgressor is confusedly as well as terribly awakened, and he needs first of all to have this ex- perience clarified, and know precisely for what he is trembling, and why. This panic and consterna- tion must depart, and a calm intelligent anxiety must take its place. But this cannot be, unless the mind turns towards God, and invites His searching

SELF-SCP.DTrXY IN GOD's PKESEJSTCE. 1S7

scrutiny, and His aid in the search after sin. So long as we shrink away from our Judge, and in upon ourselves, in these hours of conviction, — so long as we deal only with the workings of our own minds, and do not look up and " reason together " with God, — we take the most direct method of pro- ducing a blind, an obscure, and a selfish agony. We work ourselves, more and more, into a mere phrenzy of excitement. Some of the most wretched and fanatical experience in the history of the Church is traceable to a solitary self-brooding, in which, after the sense of sin had been awakened, the soul did not discuss the matter with God.

For the character and attributes of God, when, clearly seen, repress all fright, and produce that pe- culiar species of fear which is tranquil because it is deep. Though the soul, in such an hour, is conscious that God is a fearful object of sight for a transgress- or, yet it continues to gaze at Him with an eager straining eye. And in so doing, the superficial tre- mor and panic of its first awakening to the subject of religion passes oif, and gives place to an intenser moral feeling, the calmness of w^hich is like the still- ness of fascination. Nothing has a finer effect upon a company of awakened minds, than to cause the being and attributes of God, in all their majesty and purity, to rise like an orb within their horizon ; and the individual can do nothing more proper, or more salutary, when once his sin begins to disquiet him, and the inward perturbation commences, than

188 SELF-SCRUTmY IN GOD's PRESENCE.

to collect and steady himself, in an act of reflection upon that vei'y Being who abhors sin. Let no man, in the hour of conviction and moral fear, attempt to run away from the Divine holiness. On the con- trary, let him rush forward and throw himself down prostrate before that Di-ead Presence, and plead the merits of the Son of God, before it. He that finds his life shall lose it; but he that loses his life shall find it. Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it remains a single unproductive corn of wheat ; but if it die^ it germinates and brings forth much fruit. He who does not avoid a contact be- tween the, sin of his soul and the holiness of his God, but on the contrary seeks to have these two things come together, that each may be understood in its own intrinsic nature and quality, takes the only safe course. He finds that, as he knows God more distinctly, he knows himself more distinctly ; and though as yet he can see nothing but displeasure in that holy countenance, he is possessed of a well- defined experience. He knows that he is wrong, and his Maker is right ; that he is wicked, and that God is holy. He perceives these two fundamental facts Avith a simplicity, and a certainty, that admits of no debate. The confusion and obscurity of his mind, and particularly the queryings whether these things are so, whether God is so very holy and man is so very sinful, begin to disappear, like a fog when disparted and scattered by suni-ise. Olyects are seen in their true prc^pjortions and meanings ; right

SELFScnuTiNY IN god's peesence. 189

and wrong, the carnal mind and the spiritual mind, heaven and hell, — all the great contraries that per- tain to the subject of religion, — are distinctly un- derstood, and thus the first step is taken towards a better state of thino-s in the soul.

Let no man, then, fear to invite the scrutiny of God, in connection with his own scrutiny of himself. He who deals only with the sense of duty, and the operations of his own mind, will find that these themselves become more dim and indistinct, so long as the process of examination is not conducted in this joint manner; so long as the mind refuses to accept the Divine proposition, " Come now, and let us reason together.'''' He, on the other hand, who endeavors to obtain a clear view of the Being against whom he has sinned, and to feel the full power of His holy eye as well as of His holy law, will find that his sensations and expe- riences are gaining a wonderful distinctness and intensity that will speedily bring the entire matter to an issue.

H. For then, by the blessing of God, he learns the second lesson taught in the text : viz., that there is forgiveness with God, Though, in this process of joint examination, your sins be found to be as scarlet, they shall be as Avhite as snow ; though they be discovered to be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.

If there were no forgiveness of sins, if mercy were not a manifested attribute of God, all self-examina-

190 SELF-scRuxmY IN god's peesence.

tiou, and especially all this conjoint divine scrutiny, would be a pure torment and a pure gratuity. It is wretchedness to know that we are guilty sinners, but it is the endless torment to know that there is no forgiveness, either here or hereafter. Convince a man that he will never be pardoned, and you shut him up with the spirits in prison. Compel him to examine himself under the eye of his God, while at the same time he has no hope of mercy, — and there would be nothing unjust in this, — and you dis- tress him with the keenest and most living tor- ment of which a rational spirit is capable. Well and natural was it, that the earliest creed of the Christian Church emphasized the doctrine of the Divine Pity ; and in all ages the Apostolic Symbol has called upon the guilt-stricken hu- man soul to cry, "I believe in the forgiveness of sins."

We have the amplest assurance in the whole writ- ten Revelation of God, btit noivliere else, that " there is forgiveness with Him, that He may be feared." "Whoso confesseth and forsaketh his sins shall find mercy ; " and only with such an assurance as this from His own lips, could we summon courage to look into our character and conduct, and invite God to do the same. But the text is an exceedingly explicit as- sertion of this gi-eat truth. The very same Being who invites us to reason with Him, and canvass the subject of our criminality, in the very same breath, if we may so speak, assures us th:it He will forgive

SELF-SCFvUTlI^Y IN GOD's PEESENCE. 191

all that is found in this examination. And upon. such terms, cannot the criminal well afford to ex- amine into his crime? He has a promise before- hand, that if he will but scrutinize and confess his sin it shall be forgiven. Grod would have been simply and strictly just, had He said to liim : " Go down into the depths of thy transgressing spirit, see how wicked thou hast been and still art, and know that in my righteous severity I will never pardon thee, world without end." But instead of this. He says : " Go down into the depths of thy heart, see the trans- gression and the corruption all along the line of the examination, confess it into my ear, and I will make the scarlet and crimson guilt white in the blood of my own Son." These declarations of Holy Writ, which are a direct verbal statement from the lips of God, and which specify distinctly what He will do and will not do in the matter of sin, teach us that however deeply our souls shall be found to be stained, the Divine pity outruns and exceeds the crime. " For as the heavens are high above the earth, so great is his mercy towards them that fear him. He that spared not his own Son, but deliv- ered him up for us all, how shall he not with him also freely give us all things ? " Here upon earth, there is no wickedness that surpasses the pardoning love of God in Christ. The words which Shakspeare puts into the mouth of the remorseful, but iinpenitent^ Danish king are strictly true :

192 SELF-SCEUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE.

" "What if this cursed hand Were thicker tljaa itself with brother's blood ? Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy, But to confront the visage of offence ? " '

Anywhere this side of the other world, and at any moment this side of the grave, a sinner, if pen- itent (but penitence is not always at his control), may obtain forgiveness for all his sins, through Christ's blood of atonement. He must not hope for mercy in the future woi'ld, if he neglects it here. There are no acts of pardon passed in the day of judgment. The utterance of Christ in tliat day is not the utterance, "Thy sins are forgiven thee," but, " Come ye blessed," or " Depart ye cursed." So long, and only so long, as there is life there is hope, and however great may be the conscious criminality of a man while he is under the economy of Redemp- tion, and ])efore he is summoned to render up his last account, let him not despair but hope in Divine grace.

Now, he who has seriously "reasoned together" with God, respecting his own character, is far better prepared to find God in the forgiveness of sins, than he is who has merely brooded over his own inihap- piness, without any reference to the qualities and claims of his Judge. It has been a plain and per- sonal matter throu2:hout, and havinsr now come to a clear and settled conviction that he is a guilty sin-

SiiAKsPEARE : Il.iiiilet, Act iii. Sc. 4.

self-scrutijs^y in god's presence. 193

ner, lie turns directly to the great and good Being wlio stands immediately before him, and prays to be forgiven, and is forgiven. One reason why the soul so often gropes days and months w^ithout finding a sin-pardoning Grod lies in the fact, that its thoughts and feelings respecting religious subjects, and par- ticularly respecting the state of the heart, have been too vague and indistinct. They have not had an immediate and close reference to that one single Being who is most directly concerned, and Avho alone can minister to a mind diseased. The soul is wretched, and there may be some sense of sin, but there is no one to go to, — no one to address with an appealing cry. " Oh that I knew where I might find him," is its language. " Oh that I might come even to his seat. Behold I go forward, but he is not there ; and backward, but I cannot perceive him." But this groping would cease were there a clear view • of God. There might not be peace and a sense of re- conciliation immediately ; but there would be a dis- tinct conception of the one thing needful in order to salvation. This would banish all other subjects and objects. The eye would be fixed upon the single fact of sin, and the simple fact that none but God can for- give it. The whole inw\ard experience would thus be narrowed down to a focus. Simplicity and inten- sity would be introduced into the mental state, in- stead of the previous confusion and vagueness. So- liloquy would end, and prayer, importunate, agoniz- ino- praver, would beo;in. That morbid and useless

194 SELF-SCRUTIXY IN GOD's PRESENCE.

self-brooding would cease, and those strong cryings and wrestlings till day-break would commence, and tlie kingdom of heaven would suffer this violence, and the violent would take it by force. " When I Icejyt silence ,' my bones waxed old, through my roar- ing all the day long. For day and night thy hand was heavy upon me ; my moisture was turned into the drought of summer. I dcknowledged my sin unto thee, and mine iniquity I no longer hid. I said, I will confess my transgressions unto the Lord ; and thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin. For this," — because this is Thy method of salva- tion,— " shall every one that is godly pray unto thee, in a time when thou mayest be found." (Ps. xxxii. 3-6.)

Self-examination, then, when joined with a dis- tinct recognition of the Divine character, and a con- scious sense of God's scrutiny, paradoxical as it may appear, is the surest means of producing a Urm con- viction in a guilty mind that God is merciful, and is the swiftest way of finding Him to be so. Op- posed as the Divine nature is to sin, abhorrent as iniquity is to the pure mind of God, it is neverthe- less a fact, that that sinner who goes directly into this Dread Presence with all his sins upon his head, in order to know them, to be condemned and crushed by them, and to confess them, is the one who soon- est returns with peace and hope in his soul. For, he discovers that God is as cordial and sincere in His offer to forgive, as He is in His threat to pnu-

SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOD's PRESENCE. 195

isli ; and having, to his sorrow, felt the reality and power of the Divine anger, he now to his joy feels the equal reality and power of the Divine love.

And this is the one great lesson which every man must learn, or perish forever. The truthful- ness of God, in every respect, and in all relations, — His ^ti'iGt fidelity to His word, both under the law and under the gospel, — is a quality of which every one must have a vivid knowledge and certainty, in order to salvation. Men perish through unbelief. He that doubteth is damned. To illustrate. Men pass through this life doubting and denying God's abhorrence of sin, and His determination to punish it forever and ever. Under the narcotic and stupe- fying influence of this doubt and denial, they re- main in sin, and at death go over into the immedi- ate presence of God, only to discovei* that all His statements respecting His determination upon this subject are true, — awfully and hopelessly true. They then spend an eternity, in bewailing their in- fatuation in dreaming, while here upon earth, that the great and holy God did not mean w^hat he said.

Unbelief, again, tends to death in the other dii'ec- tion, though it is far less liable to result in it. The convicted and guilt-smitten man sometimes doubts the truthfulness of the "Divine promise in Christ. He spends days of darkness and nights of woe, be- cause he is unbelieving in regard to God's compas- sion, and readiness to forgive a penitent ; and when,

196 SELF-SCEUTINY IN GOD's PEESENCE.

at length, the light of the Divine countenance breaks upon him, lie wonders that he was so foolish and slow of heart to believe all that God himself had said concern in o- the " multitude " of his tender mercies. Christian and Hopeful lay long and need- lessly in the dungeon of Doubting Castle, until the former remembered that the key to all the locks was in his bosom, and had been all the while. They needed only to take God at his word: The anxious and fearful soul must 1)elieve the Eternal Jud2:e implicitly^ Avhen he says : " I will justify thee through the blood of Christ." God is truthful under the gospel, and under the law ; in His prom- ise of mercy, and in His threatening of eternal woe. And " if we believe not, yet He abideth faithful ; He cannot deny Himself." He hath promised, and He hath threatened ; and, though heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle of that promise shall not fail in the case of those who confidingly trust it, nor shall one iota or scintilla of the threat- ening fail in the instance of those who have reck- lessly and rashly disbelieved it.

In respect, then, to both sides of the revelation of the Divine character, — in respect to the threat- ening and the promise, — men need to have a clear perception, and an unwavering belief. He that doubteth in either direction is damned. He who does not believe that God is truthful, when He de- clares that He will " punish iniquity, transgression and sin," and that those upon the left hand shall

SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOd's PRESENCE. 197

" go away into everlasting punisliment," will per- sist in sin until he passes the line of probation and be lost. And he who does not believe that God is truthful, when He declares that He will forgive scarlet and crimson sins through the blood of Christ, will be overcome by despair and be also lost. But he who believes both Divine statements with equal certainty, and perceives both facts with distinct vision, will be saved.

From these two lessons of the text, we deduce the following practical directions :

1. First: In all states of religious anxiety, we should betake ourselves instantly and directly to God. There is no other refuge for the human soul but God in Christ, and if this fails us, we must re- nounce all hope here and hereafter.

" If this fail, The pillared firraaraent is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble." ^

We are, therefore, from the nature of the case, shut up to this course. Suppose the religious anxiety arise from a sense of sin, and the fear of retribution. God is the only Being that can forgive sins. To whom, then, can such an one go but unto Him ? Suppose the religious anxiety arises from a sense of the perishing nature of earthly objects, and the soul feels as if all the foundation and fabric of its hope and comfoi-t were rocking into irretrievable

' Milton : Gorans, 59T-599.

198 SELF-SCRUTINY IN GOd's PRESENCE.

ruin. God is tlie only Being wlio can help in tliis crisis. In either or in any case, — be it the anxiety of the unforgiven, or of the child of God, — what- ever be the species of mental sorrow, the human soul is by its very circumstances driven to its Maker, or else driven to destruction.

What more reasonable course, therefore, than to conform to the necessities of our condition. The principal part of wisdom is to take things as they are, and act accordingly. Are we, then, sinners, and in fear for the final result of our life ? Though it may seem to us like running into fire, we must nevertheless betake ourselves first and immediately to that Being who hates and punishes sin. Though we see nothing but condemnation and displeasure in those holy eyes, we must nevertheless approach them just and simjply as we are. We must say Avith king David in a similar case, when he had incurred the displeasure of God : " I am in a great strait ; [yet] let me fall into the hand of the Lord, for very great are his mercies" (1 Chron. xx. 13). We must suffer the intolei'able brightness to blind and blast us in our guiltiness, and let there be an actual con- tact between the sin of our soul and the holiness of our God. If we thus proceed, in accordance with the facts of our case and our position, we shall meet with a great and joyful surprise. Flinging our- selves helpless, and despairing of all other help, — raslily, as it will seem to us, flinging ourselves off fi'om the position where we now are, and upon

SELF-SCRUTIlSrY LN GOd's PRESENCE. 109

which we must inevitalbly perish, we shall find ourselves, to our surprise and unspeakable joy, caught in everlasting, paternal arms. He who loses his life, — he "who dares to lose his life, — shall find it.

2. Secondly: In all our religious anxiety, we should make a full and plain statement of everything to God. God loves to hear the details of our sin, and our woe. The soul that pours itself out as water will find that it is not like water spilt upon the ground, which cannot be gathered up again. Even when the story is one of shame and remorse, we find it to be mental relief, patiently and without any reservation or palliation, to exjDOse the whole not only to our own eye but to that of our Judge. For, to this very thing have we been invited. This is precisely the " reasoning together " which God proposes to us. God has not oifered clemency to a sinful world, with the expectation or desire that there be on the part of those to whom it is offered, such a stinted and meagre confession, such a glozing over and diminution of sin, as to make that f^ ency appear a very small matter. He well kno^ the depth and the immensity of the sin which He proposes to pardon, and has made provision accord- ingly. In the phrase of Luther, it is no painted sinner who is to be forgiven, and it is no painted Saviour who is oifered. The transgression is deep and real, and the atonement is deep and real. The crime cannot be exaggerated, neither can the

200 SELF-SCEUTINY IN GOd's PBESEiSrCE.

expiation. He, therefore, who makes the plain- est and most child-like statement of himself to God, acts most in accordance with the mind, and will, and gospel of God. If man only be hearty, fall, and unreserved in confession, he will find God to be hearty, full, and unreserved in absolu- tion.

Man is not straitened upon the side of the Divine mercy. The obstacle in the way of his salvation is in himself; and the particular, fatal obstacle consists in the fact that he does not feel that he needs mercy. God in Christ stands ready to pardon, but man the sinner stands up before Him like the besotted crim- inal in our courts of la^v, with no feeling upon the subject. The Judge assures him that He has a boundless grace and clemency to bestow, but the stolid hardened man is not even aware that he has committed a dreadful crime, and needs grace and clemency. There is food in infinite abundance, but no hunger upon the part of man. The water of life is flowing by in torrents, but men have no thirst, ^/n this state of things, nothing can be done, but to g -ss a sentence of condemnation. God cannot for- give a being who does not even know that he needs to be forgiven. Knowledge then, self-knowledge, is the great requisite ; and the want of it is the cause of perdition. This " reasoning together " with God, respecting our past and present character and conduct, is the first step to be taken by any one who would make preparation for eternity. As soou

SELF-SCKUTINY IN GOd's PRESENCE. 201

as we come to a right understanding of our lost and guilty condition, we shall cry : " Be merciful to me a sinner ; create within me a clean heart, O God." Without such an understanding, — such an intelli- gent perception of our sin and guilt, — we never shall, and we never can.

SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY

John viii. 34. — '' Jesus answered them, Verily, verily I say unto you, who- soever committeth sin is the servant of sin.''

The word (^oii/log) which is translated " serv- ant," in the text, literally signifies a slave ; and the thought which our Lord actually conveyed to those who heard Him is, " Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin." The apostle Peter, in that second Epistle of his which is so full of terse and terrible description of the effects of unbridled sensuality upon the human Avill, expresses the same truth. Speaking of the influence of those corrupting and licentious men who have '' eyes full of adultery, and that cannot cease from sin," he remarks that while they promise their dupes " liberty, they themselves are the servants [slaves] of corruption : for of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he hrouglit in hondage^

Such passages as these, of which there are a great number in the Bible, direct attention to the fact that sin contains an element of servitude, — that in the veiy act of transgressing the law of God there

SIN IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY. 203

is a refiex action of the human will upon itself, whereby it becomes less able than before to keep that law. Sin is the suicidal action of the human will. It destroys the power to do right, which is man's true freedom. The effect of vicious habit in diminishing a man's ability to resist temptation is proverbial. But what is habit but a constant rep- etition of wrong decisions, every single one of which reacts upon the faculty that put them forth, and renders it less strong: and less enerjretic, to do the contrary. Has the old debauchee, just totter- ing into hell, as much power of active resistance against the sin which has now ruined him, as the youth has who is just beginning to run that aw- ful career ? Can any being do a wrong act, and be as sound in his will and as spiritually strong, after it, as he was before it? Did that abuse of free agency by Adam, whereby the sin of the race was originated, leave the agent as it found him, — unin- jured and undebilitated in his voluntary power ?

The truth and fact is, that sin in and by its own nature and operations, tends to destroy all virtuous force, all holy enei'gy, in any moral being. The ex- cess of will to sin is the same as the defect of will to holiness. The dem-ee of intensitv with which any man loves and inclines to evil is the measure of the amount of power to good which he has therel)y lost. And if the intensity be total, then the loss is entire. Total depravity carries with it total impo- tence and helplessness. The more carefully wo f>b-

204 612^ IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

serve tlie workings of our own wills, the surer will be our conviction that they can ruin themselves. We shall indeed find that they cannot he forced., or ruined from the outside. But, if we watch the in- fluence upon the will itself., of its own wrong decis- ions, its own yielding to temptations, we shall dis- cover that the voluntary faculty may be ruined from within ; may be made impotent to good by its own action ; may surrender itself with such an intensity and entireness to aj)petite, passion, and self-love, that it becomes unable to reverse itself, and over- come its own wi'ong disposition and direction. And yet there is no compulsion, from first to last, in the j)rocess. The man follows himself He pursues his own inclination. He has his own way and does as he pleases. He loves what he inclines to love, and hates what he inclines to hate. Neither God, nor the world, nor Satan himself, force him to do wrong. Sin is the most spontaneous of self-motion. But self-motion has consequences as much as any other motion. Because transgression is a self-diQiev- mined act, it does not follow that it has no reaction and results, but leaves the will precisely as it found it. It is strictly true that man was not necessitated to apostatize ; but it is equally true that if by his own self-decision he should apostatize, he could not then and afterwards be as he was before. He would lose a hnowledge of God and divine things whicli he could never regain of himself iVnd he would lose a spiritual power which he coidd never again

SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVEEY. 205

recover of himself. The bondage of which Christ speaks, when He says, " Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," is an effect within the soul itself of an unforced act of self-will, and therefore is as truly guilt as any other result or product of self- will, — as spiritual blindness, or spiritual hardness, or any other of the qualities of sin. Whatever springs fi*om will, we are responsible for. The drunkard's bondage and powerlessness issues from his own inclination and self-indulgence, and there- fore the bondage and impotence is no excuse for his vice. Man's inability to love Grod supremely results from his intense self-will and self-love ; and therefore his impotence is a part and element of his sin, and not an excuse for it.

" If weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, may not plead it? All wickedness is weakness." '

'Milton: Samson Agonistes, yielded to becomes cvstom. ; 832-834. — One key to the solu- and custom not resisted becomes tion of the problem, how there necessity. By which links, as it can be bondage in the very seat of were, joined together as in a freedom, — how man can be re- cliain, a hard bondage held me en- sponsible for sin, yet helpless in thralled." Augustine : Confes- it,— is to be found in this fact of sions, VIII. v. 10, "Every de- a reilex action of the will ui)on gree of inclhiation contrary to itself, or, a reaction of self-aation. duty, which is and must be sinful, Philosuphical speculation upon implies and involves an equal de- the nature of the human will has gree of difficulty and inability to not, hitlierto, taken this ftict suf- obey. For, indeed, such inclina- ficiently into account. The fol- tion -of the heart to disobey, and lowing extracts corroborate tlie the difficulty or inability to obey, view presented above. "My are precisely one and the same. will tlie enemy held, and thence This kind of difficulty or inability, had made a chain for me, and therefore, always is great accord- bound me. For, of a perverse ing to the strength and iixeduess will comes lust; and a lust of the incliu;ition to disobey ; and

10

203 SIJS^ IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY.

Tlie doctrine, then, which is taught in the text, is the truth that sin is spiritiial slavery / and it is to the proof and illustration of this position that we invite attention.

The term " spiritual " is too often taken to mean unreal, fanciful, figurative. For man is earthly in his views as well as in his feelings, and therefore regards visible and material things as the emphatic realities. Hence he employs material objects as the ultimate standard, by which he measures the real- ity of all other things. The natural man has more consciousness of his body, than.he has of his soul ; more sense of this world, than of the other. Hence we find that the carnal man expresses his concep- tion of sj)iritual things, by transferring to them, in a weak and secondary signification, words which he applies in a strong and vivid way only to material objects. He speaks of the "joy" of the spirit, but

it becomes ^o^aLind rt^so^??f(? [ilia- tations so trivial that^ we despise

bility], wlien tiie heart is totally their danger. And *so we fall

corrupt and wholly opposed to into perilous situations from

obedience. . . No man can act which we might easily have pre-

coutrary to his present inclination served ourselves, but from which

or choice. But who ever imag- we now find it impossible to ex-

iued that this rendered his incli- tricate ourselves without efforts

nation and choice innocent and so superhuman as to terrify us,

blameless, however wrong and and we finally fall into tlie abyss,

unreasonable it miglit be." Sam- saying to the Almighty, ' Why

TiKL Hopkins: Works, I. 233-235. hast Thou made me so weak ? '

"Moral inability" is the being But notwithstanding our vain

"unable to be willing." Ed- pretext, Ho addresses our con-

WAKDS : Freedom of tlie Will, science, saying, 'I have made

Part T, sect. iv. "Propensities," thee too iccak to rise from the pit,

— says a writer very different because I made thee strong

from tiiose above quoted, — "that enough not to fall therein.''''''

are easily surmounted lead us ini- Rousskau : Confessions, Book II. fcsistitigly on; we \iiKl to ti'inp-

SIN 13 SPIKITUAL SLAVERY. 207

it is not such a reality for liim as is the "joy" of the body. He speaks of the " pain " of the spirit, but it has not such a poignancy for him as that an- guish which thrills through his muscles and nerves. He knows that the " death " of the body is a ter- rible event, but transfers the word " death " to the spirit with a vague and feeble meaning, not realiziuo- that the second death is more a^vfal than the first, and is accompanied with a spiritual dis- tress compared M'ith which, the sharpest agony of material dissolution would l)e a relief. He under- stands what is meant by the " life " of the body, but when he hears the " eternal life " of the sj^irit spoken of, or when he reads of it in the Bible, it is with the feeling that it cannot be so real and life- like as that vital principle whose currents impart vigor and warmth to his bodily frame. And yet, the life of the spirit is more intensely real than the life of the body is ; for it has power to overrule and absorb it. Spiritual life, when in full play, is bliss ineffable. It translates man into the third heavens, where the fleshly life is lost sight of en- tirely, and the being, like St. Paul, does not know whether he is in the body or out of the body.

The natural mind is deceived. Sj)irit has in it more of reality than matter has ; because it is an immortal and indestructible essence, while matter is neither. Spiritual things are more real than vis- ible things ; because they are eternal, and eternity is more real than time. Statements respecting

208 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

spiritual objects, therefore, are more solemnly true than any that relate to material things. Invisible and spiritual realities, therefore, are the standard by which all others should be tried ; and human language when applied to them, instead of express- ing too much, expresses too little. The imagery and phraseology by which the Scriptures describe the glory of God, the excellence of holiness, and the bliss of heaven, on the one side, and the sinfulness of sin with the woe of hell, on the other, come short of the sober and actual matter of fact.

We should, therefore, beware of the error to which in our unspirituality we are specially liable ; and when we hear Christ assert that " whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," we should be- lieve and know, that these words are not extrava- gant, and contain no subtrahend, — that they indi- cate a self-enslavement of the human mil which is so real, so total, and so absolute, as to necessitate the renewino; errace of God in order to deliverance from it.

This bondage to siu may be discovered by every man. It must be discovered, before one can ciy, " Save me or I perish." It must be discovered, before one cau feelingly assent to Christ's words, " With- out me ye can do nothing." It must be discovered, before one can understand the Christian paradox, " When I am weak, then am I strong." To aid the mind, in coming to the conscious experience- of the truth taught in the text, we remark :

SIN IS SriRITUAL SLAVEEY. 209

I. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in refer- ence to man's sense of obligation to he perfectly lioly.

The obligation to be holy, just, and good, as God is, rests upon every rational being. Every man knows, or may know, that he ought to be perfect as his Father in heaven is perfect, and that he is a debtor to this obligation until he h.9is fully met it. Hence even the holiest of men are conscious of sin, because they are not completely up to the mark of this high calling of God. For, the sense of this obligation is an exceeding broad one, — like the law itself which it includes and enforces. The feeling of duty will not let us off, with the performance of only a part of our duty. Its utterance is : " Verily I say unto you, till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law till all be fulfilled." Law spreads itself over the whole surface and course of our lives, and insists impera- tively that every part and p'article of them be pure and holy.

Again, this sense of obligation to be perfect as God is perfect, is exceedingly deep. It is the most profound sense of which man is possessed, for it outlives all others. The feeling of duty to God's law remains in a man's mind either to bless him or to curse him, when all other feelings depart. In the hour of death, when all the varied passions and experiences which have engrossed the man his whole lifetime are dying out of the soul, and are

210 SIIS^ IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

disappearing, one after another, like signal-lights in the deepening darkness, this one particular feel- ing of what he owes to the Divine and the Eter- nal Law remains behind, and grows more \dvid and j)ainfal, as all others grow dimmer and dim- mer. And therefore it is, that in this solemn hour man forgets whether he has been happy or nnhappy, successful or unsuccessful, in the world, and remembers only that he has been a sinner in it. And therefore it is, that a man's thoughts, when he is upon his death-bed, do not settle upon his worldly matters, but upon his sin. It is because the human conscience is the very core and centre of the human being, and its sense of obligation to be holy is deeper than all other senses and sensa- tions, that we hear the dying man say what the living and prosperous man is not inclined to say : "I have been wicked; I have been a sinner in the earth."

Now it might seem, at first sight, that tliis broad, deep, and abiding sense of obligation would be sufficient to overcome man's love of sin, and brino; him up to the discharge of duty, — would be power- ful enough to subdue his self-will. Can it be that this strong and steady draft of conscience, — stj'oiig and steady as gravitation, — will ultimately prove ineffectual? Is not truth mighty, and must it not finally prevail, to the pulling down of the stronghold which Satan has in the human heart? So some men argue. So some men claim, in opposition to

S1]!T IS SPIKITUAL SLAVERY. 211

the doctrine of Divine influences and of regenera- tion by the Holy Grhost.

We are willing to appeal to actual experience, in order to settle the point. And we affirm in the outset, that exactly in proportion as a man hears the voice of conscience sounding its law within his breast, does he become aware, not of the strength. but, of the bondage of his will, and that in propor- tion as this sense of obligation to \>^, i^erfecthj holy rises in his soul, all hope or expectation of ever becoming so by his own power sets in thick night.

In oui' careless unawakened state, which is our ordinary state, we sin on from day to day, just as we live on from day to day, without being distinctly aware of it. A healthy man does not go about, holding his fingers upon his wrist, and counting every pulse ; and neither does a sinful man, as he walks these streets and transacts all this business, think of and sum up the multitude of his trans- gressions. And yet, that pulse all the while beats none the less ; and yet, that wdll all the while trans- gresses none the less. So long as conscience is asleep, sin is pleasant. The sinful activity goes on without notice, we are haj^py in sin, and we do not feel that it is slavery of the will. Though the chains are actually about us, yet they do not gall us. In this condition, which is that of every unawakened sinner, we are not conscious of the " bondage of corruption." In the phrase of St. Paul, " we are alive without the law." We have

212 _ SLN IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY.

no feeling sense of duty, and of course have no feeling sense of sin. And it is in tliis state of things, that arguments are framed to prove the mightiness of mere conscience, and the power of bare trutli and moral obligation, over the perverse human heai't and will.

But the Spirit of Grod awakens the conscience; that sense of obligation to \>q perfectly holy nhich has hitherto slept now starts up, and begins to form an estimate of what has been done in reference to it. The man hears the authoritative and startliucj law : " Thou shalt be perfect, as God is." And now, at this very instant and point, begins the conscious- ness of enslavement, — of being, in the expressive phrase of Scripture, ''^ sold under sin." Now the commandment "comes," shows us first w^hat we ought to be and then what we actually are, and we " die." ^ All moral strength dies out of us. The muscle has been cut by the sword of truth, and the limb drops helpless by the side. For, we find that the obligation is immense. It extends to all our outward acts ; and having covered the whole of this great surface, it then strikes inward and reaches to every thought of the mind, and every emotion of the heart, and every motive of the will. We discover that we are under obligation at every con- ceivable point in our being and in our history, but that we have not met obligation at a single point. When we see that the law of God is broad and

' Romans vii. 9-11.

SIIS" IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 213

deep, and that sin is equally broad and deep within us ; when we learn that we have never thou2;ht one single holy thought, nor felt one single holy feeling, nor done one single holy deed, because self-love is the root and principle of all our work, and we have never purposed or desired to please God by any one of our actions ; when we find that everything has been required, and that absolutely nothing has been done, that we are bound to be perfectly holy this very instant, and as matter of fact are totally sinful, we know in a most affecting man- ner that "whosoever committeth sin is the dave of sin".

But suppose that after this disheartening and weakening discovery of the depth and extent of our sinfulness, we proceed to take the second step, and attempt to extirpate it. Suj^pose that after coming to a consciousness of all this obligation resting upon us, we endeavor to comply with it. This renders us still more painfully sensible of the truth of our Saviour's declaration. Even the re- generated man, who in this endeavor has the aid of God, is mournfully conscious that sin is the enslave- ment of the human will. Though he has been freed substantially, he feels that the fragments of the chains are upon him still. Though the love of God is the predominant principle within him, yet the lusts and propensities of the old nature con- tinually start up like devils, and tug at the spirit, to drag it down to its old bondage. But that man

10*

214 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

who attempts to overcome sin, without first crying, *"' Create within me a clean heart, O God," feels still more deeply that sin is spiritual slavery. When lie comes to know sin in reference to the ob- ligation to be perfectly holy, it is with vividness and hopelessness. He sees distinctly that he ought to be a perfectly good being instantaneously. This point is clear. But instead of looking up to the hills whence cometh his help, he begins, in a cold legal and loveless temper, to draw upon his own resources. The first step is to regulate his external conduct by the Divine law. He tries to put a bridle upon his tongue, and to walk carefully before his fellow-men. He fails to do even this small outside thing, and is filled with discouragement and despondency.

But the sense of duty reaches beyond the exter- nal conduct, and the law of God pierces like the two-edged sword of an executioner, and discerns the thoughts and motives of the heart. Sin begins to be seen in its relation to the inner man, and he attempts again to reform and change the feelings and affections of his soul. He strives to wrinjx the gall of bitterness out of his own heart, with his own hands. But he fails utterly. As he resolves, and breaks his resolutions; as he finds evil thoughts and feelings continually coming up from the deep places of his heart ; he discovers his spiritual impo- tence,— his lack of control over what is deepest, most intimate, and most fundamental in liis own

SIl^ IS SPIRITUAL SLAVES Y. 215

character, — and cries out : " I am a slave, 1 am a slave to myself."

If tlien, you would know from immediate con- sciousness that " whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," simply view sin in the light of that obligation to be perfectly pure and holy which necessarily, and forever, rests upon a responsible being. If you would know that spiritual slavery is no extravagant and unmeaning phrase, Imt denotes a most real and helpless bondage, endeavor to get entii'ely rid of sin, and to be perfect as the spirits of just men made perfect.

n. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in reference to the aspirations of the human soul.

Theology makes a distinction between common and special grace, — between those ordinary influen- ces of the Divine Spirit which rouse the conscience, and awaken some transient aspirations after re- ligion, and those extraordinary influences which actually renew the heart and will. In speaking, then, of the aspirations of the human soul, reference is had to all those serious impressions, and those painful anxieties concerning salvation, which re- quire to be followed up by a yet mightier power from Grod, to prevent their being entirely sup- pressed again, as they are in a multitude of in- stances, by the strong love of sin and the world. For though man has fallen into a state of death in trespasses and sins, so that if cut oft' from every species of Divine influence, and left entirely to him-

216 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

self, he would never reach out after anything "but the sin which he loves, yet through the common influences of the Spirit of Grace, and the ordinary workings of a rational nature not yet reprobated, he is at times the subject of internal stirrings and aspirations that indicate the greatness and glory of the heights whence he fell. Under the power of an awakened conscience, and feeling the empti- ness of the world, and the aching void within him, man wishes for something better than he has, or than he is. The minds of the more thousrhtful of the ancient pagans were the subjects of these im- pulses, and aspirations ; and they confess their utter inability to realize them. They are exj^ressed upon every page of Plato, and it is not surprising that some of the Christian Fathers should have deemed Platonism, as well as Judaism, to be a prep- aration for Christianity, by its bringing man to a sense of his need of redemption. And it would stimulate Christians in their eiforts to give revealed religion to the heathen, did they ponder the fact which the journals of the missionary sometimes dis- close, that the Divine Spirit is brooding with His common and preparatory influence over the chaos of Paganism, and that here and there the heathen mind faintly aspires to be freed from the bond- age of corruption, — that dim stirrings, impulses, and wishes for deliverance, are awake in the dark heart of Pacjanism, but that owins: to the strenorth and inveteracy of sin in that heart they will

Sm IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY. 217

prove ineifectual to salvation, unless the gospel is preaclied, and the Holy Spirit is specially poured out in answer to the prayers of Christians.

Now, all these phenomena in the human soul go to show the rigid bondage of sin, and to prove that sin has an element of servitude in it. For when these impulses, wishes, and aspirations are awaken- ed, and the man discovers that he is unable to real- ize them in actual character and conduct, he is wretchedly and thoroughly conscious that "whoso- ever committeth sin is the slave of sin." The im- mortal, heaven-descended spirit, feeling the kindling touch of truth and of the Holy Ghost, thrills under it, and essays to soar. But sin hangs heavy upon it, and it cannot lift itself from the earth. Never is man so sensible of his enslavement and his helplessness, as when he has a wish but has no will}

Look, for illustration, at the aspirations of the drunkard to be delivered from the vice that easily besets him. In his sober moments, they come thick and fast, and during his sobriety, and while under the lashings of conscience, he wishes, nay, even longs^ to be freed from drunkenness. It may be, that under the impulse of these aspirations he resolves never to drink again. It may be, that amid the buoyancy that naturally accompanies the

' Some of the Schoolmen dis- former, velleitas^ and the hitter, tinpuislied ciirefnlly between the voluntas. two thing.s, and deuoniinatcd the

218 . SIIS" IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

springing of li023e and longing in the human soul, lie for a time seems to himself to be actually rising up from his " wallowing in the mire," and supposes that he shall soon regain his primitive condition of temperance. But the sin is strong ; for the appetite that feeds it is in his blood. Temptation with its witching solicitation comes before the will, — the weak, self-enslaved will. He asjnres to resist, but will not ; the spirit wonld soar, but the flesh toill creep; the spirit has the wish, but the flesh has the will ; the man longs to be sober, but actually is and remains a drunkard. And never, — be it noticed, — never is he more thoroughly conscious of being a slave to himself, than when he thus ineffectually aspires and wishes to be delivered from himself

What has been said of drunkenness, and the aspiration to be freed from it, applies with full force to all the sin and all the aspirations of the human soul. There is no independent and selfrealizing power in a mere aspiration. No man overcomes even his vices, except as he is assisted by the com- mon grace of God. The self-reliant man invariably relapses into his old habits. He who thinks he stands is sure to fall. But when, under the influ- ence of God's common grace, a man asj^ires to be freed from the deepest of all sin, because it is the source of all particular acts of transgression, — when he attempts to overcome and extirpate the original and inveterate depravity of his heart, — he feels his

SIN IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY. 219

bondage more thoroughly than ever. If it is ^wretchedness for the drunkard to aspire after free- dom from only a single vice, and fail of reaching it, is it not the depth of woe, when a man comes to know " the plague of his heart," and his utter inability to cleanse and cure it ? In this case, the bondage of self will is found to be absolute.

At first sight, it might seem as if these wishes and aspirations of the- human spirit, faint though they be, are proof that man is not totally depraved, and that his will is not helplessly enslaved. So some men argue. But they forget, that these aspi- rations and wishes are never realized. There is no evidence of power, except from its results. And where are the results? Who has ever realized these wishes and aspirations, in his heart and con- duct ? The truth is, that every unattained aspira- tion that ever swelled the human soul is proof pos- itive, and loud, that the human soul is in bondage. These inejfectual stirrings and impulses, which disaj)pear like the morning cloud and the early dew, are most affecting evidences that " whosoever eommitteth sin is the slave of sin." They prove that apostate man has sunk, in one respect, to a lower level than that of the irrational creation. For, high ideas and truths cannot raise him. Lofty impulses result in no alteration, or elevation. Even Divine influences leave him just where they find him, unless they are exerted in their highest grade of irresistible grace. A brute surrenders himself

220 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

to his appetites and propensities, and lives tlie low life of nature, without being caj)able of aspirations for anything purer and nobler. But man does this very thing, — nay, immerses himself in flesh, and sense, and self, with an entireness and intensity of which the brute is incapable, — in the face of impulses and stirrings of mind that point liim to the pure throne of Grod, and urge him to soar up to it ! The brute is a creatui'e of nature, because he knows no better, and can desire nothing better ;- but man is " as the beasts that perish," in spite of a better knowledge and a loftier aspiration !

If then, you would know that " whosoever com- mitteth sin is the dave of sin," contemplate sin in reference to the aspirations of an apostate spirit originally made in the image of God, and which, because it is not eternally reprobated, is not entirely cut off from the common influences of the Spirit of God. Never will you feel the bondage of your will more profoundly, than when under these influ- ences, and in your moments of seriousness and anxiety respecting your soul's salvation, you aspire and endeavor to overcome inward sin, and find that unless God grant you His special and renovating grace, your heart will be sinful through all eternity, in spite of the best impulses of your best hours. These upward impulses and aspirations cannot accompany the soul into the state of final hopeless- ness and despair, — though Milton represents Satan as sometimes lookini'' back with a si^^h, and a

SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 221

mournful memory, upon wbat he had once been/ — yet if they should go with us there, they would make the ardor of the fire more fierce, and the gnaw of the worm more fell. For they would help to reveal the strength of our sin, and the intensity of our rebellion.

III. Sin is spiritual slavery, if viewed in refer- ence to the fea/'S of the human soul.

The sinful spirit of man fears the death of the body, and the Scriptui-es assert that by reason of this particular fear we are all our lifetime in bond- age. Though we know that the bodily dissolu- tion can have no eftect upon the imperishable es- sence of an immortal being, yet we shrink back from it, as if the sentence, " Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return," had been spoken of the spirit, — as if the worm were to " feed sweetly " upon the soul, and it were to be buried up in the dark house of the grave. Even the boldest of us is disturbed at the thought of bodily death, and we are always startled when the summons suddenly comes : " Set thy house in order, for thou must die."

Again, the spirit of man fears that " fearful some- thing after death," that eternal judgment which must be passed upon all. We tremble at the pros- pect of giving an account of our own actions. We are afraid to reap the harvest, the seed of which we have sown with onr own hands. The thought of

' Milton : Paradise Lost, IV. 23-25 ; 35-61.

222 SIN IS SPIEITUAL SLAVEEY.

going to a just judgment, and of receiving from the Judge of all the earth, who cannot possibly do in- justice to any of His creatures, only that which is our desert, shocks us to the centre of our being ! Man universally is afraid to be judged with a right- eous judgment ! Man universally is terrified by the equitable bar of God !

Again, the apostate spirit of man has an awful dread of eternity. Though this invisible realm is the proper home of the human soul, and it was made to dwell there forever, after the threescore and ten years of its residence in the body are over, yet it shrinks back from an entrance into tliis un- tried world, and clings with the desperate force of a drowning man to this " bank and shoal of time." There are moments in the life of a guilty man when the very idea of eternal existence exerts a preter- natural power, and fills him with a dread that para- lyzes him. Never is the human being stirred to so great depths, and roused to such intensity of ac- tion, as when it feels what the Scripture calls " the power of an endless life." All men are urged by some ruling passion which is strong. The love of wealth, or of pleasure, or of fame, drives the mind onward with great force, and excites it to mighty exertions to compass its end. But never is a man pervaded by such an irresistible and overwhelming influence as that which descends upon him in some season of religious gloom, — some hour of sickness, or danger, or death, — when the great eternity, with

SIIS^ IS SPIEITUAL SLAVERY. 22'3

all its awful realities, and all its unknown terror, opens upon his quailing gaze. There are times in man's life, when he is the subject of movements within that impel him to deeds that seem almost superhuman ; but that internal ferment and con- vulsion which is produced when all eternity pours itself through his being turns his soul up from the centre. Man will labor convulsively, night and day, for money ; he will dry up the bloom and freshness of health, for earthly power and fame ; he will act- ually wear his body out for sensual pleasure. But what is the intensity and paroxysm of this activity of mind and body, if compared with those inward struggles and throes when the overtaken and start- led sinner sees the eternal world looming into view, and with strong crying and tears prays for only a little respite, and only a little preparation! "Mil- lions for an inch of time," — ■said the dying English Queen. " O Eternity ! Eternity ! how shall I grap- ple with the miser}'' that I must meet with in ete?'- nity^'' — says the man in the iron cage of Despair. This finite world has indeed great power to stir man, but the other world has an infinitely greater power. The clouds which float in the lower regions of the sky, and the winds that sweep them along, produce great ruin and destruction upon the earth, but it is only when the " windows of heaven are opened " that " the fountains of the great deep are broken up," and " all in whose nostrils is the breath of life die," and " every living substance is destroyed

224 SIN" IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

which is upon the face of the ground." When fear arises in the soul of man, in view of an eternal ex- istence for which he is utterly unprepared, it is overwhelming. It partakes of the immensity of eternity, and holds the man with an omnipotent grasp.

If, now, we view sin in relation to these great fears of death, judgment, and eternity, we see that it is spiritual slavery, or the bondage of the will. We discover that our terror is no more able to deliver us from the " bondage of corruption," than our as- piration is. We found that in spite of the serious stirrings and impulses which sometimes rise within us, we still continue immersed in sense and sin ; and we shall also find that in spite of the most sol- emn and awful fears of which a finite being is capa- ble, we remain bondmen to ourselves, and our sin The dread that goes down into hell can no more ransom us, than can the aspiration that goes up into heaven. Our fear of eternal woe can no more change the heart, than our wish for eternal happiness can. We have, at some periods, faintly wished that lusts and passions had no power over us ; and perhaps we have been the subject of still higher aspirings. But we are the same beings, still. We are the same self-willed and self-enslaved sinners, yet. We have all our lifetime feared death, judgment, and eternity, and under the influence of this fear we have sometimes resolved and promised to be- come Christians. But ^ve are the very same beings,

SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 225

still ; we are the same self-willed and self-enslaved sinners yet.

Oh, never is the human spirit more deej^ly con- scious of its bondage to its darling iniquity, than when these paralyzing fears shut down upon it, like night, with " a horror of great darkness." "When under their influence, the man feels most thoroughly and wretchedly that his sin is his ruin, and yet his sinful determination continues on, because " w^hoso- ever committeth sin is the slave of sin." Has it never happened that, in " the visions of the night when deep sleep falleth upon men," a spirit passed before your face, like that which stood still before the Temanite ; and there was silence, and a voice sa}'ing, " Man ! Man ! thou must die, thou must be judged, thou must inhabit eternity % " And when the spirit had departed, and while the tones of its solemn and startling cry were still rolling through your soul, did not a temptation to sin solicit you, and did you not drink in its iniquity like water ? Have you not found out, by mournful experience, that the most anxious forebodino;s of the human spirit, the most alarming fears of the human soul, and the most solemn warnino-s that come forth from eternity, have no prevailing power over your sinful nature, but that immediately after experiencing them, and while your whole being is still quivering under their agonizing touch, you fall, you rush, into sin ? Have you not discovered that even that most di'eadful of all fears, — the fear of the holy wrath of

226 SI2>^ 13 SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

aliuiglity God, — is not strong enough to save you from yourself ? Do you know that your love of sin has the power to stifle and overcome the mightiest of your fears, when you are strongly tempted to self- indulgence ? Have you no evidence, in your own experience, of the truth of the poet's words :

" The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compnls^n."

If, then, you would know that " whosoever com- raitteth sin is the slave of sin," contemplate sin in relation to the fears which of necessity rest upon a spirit capable, as yours is, of knowing that it must leave the body, that it must receive a final sentence at the bar of judgment, and that eternity is its last and fixed dwelling-place. If you would know with sadness and with profit, that sin is the enslave- ment of the will that originates it^ consider that all the distressing fears that have ever been in your soul, from the first, have not been able to set you free in the least from innate depravity: but, that in spite of them all your will has been steadily surrendering itself, more and more, to the evil prin- ciple of self-love and enmity to God. Call to mind the great fight of anguish and terror which you have sometimes waged with sin, and see how sin has always been victorious. Remember that you liave often dreaded death, — but you are unjust still. Remember that you have often trembled at the thought of eternal judgment, — but you are unre-

SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY. 227

generate still. E-emember that you liave often started back, wlien the holy and retributive eter- nity dawned like the day of doom upon you, — but you are impenitent still. If you view your own personal sin in reference to your own personal fears, are you not a slave to it ? Will or can your fears, mighty as they sometimes are, deliver you from the bondage of corruption, and lift you above that which you love with all your heart, and strength, and might ?

It is perfectly plain, then, that " whosoever com- mitteth sin is the slave of sin," whether we have regard to the feeling of obligation to be perfectly holy which is in the human conscience ; or to the ineffectual aspirations which sometimes arise in the human spirit ; or to the dreadful fears which often fall upon it. Sin must have brought the human will into a real and absolute bondage, if the deep and solemn sense of indebtedness to moral law; if the " thoughts that Avander through eternity ; " if the aspirations that soar to the heaven of heavens, and the fears that descend to the very bottom of hell, — if all these combined forces and influences cannot free it from its power.

It was remarked in the beg-in nins^ of this dis- course, that the bondage of sin is the result of the reflex action of the human will upon itself. It is not a slavery imposed from without, but from within. The bondage of sin is only a pai^ticulctr aspect of sin itself The element uf servitude, like the ele-

228 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

ment of blindness, or hardness, or rebelliousness, is part and particle of that moral evil which deserves the wrath and curse of God. It, therefore, no more excuses or palliates, than does any other self-origi- nated quality in sin. Spiritual bondage, like spir- itual enmity to God, or spiritual ignorance of Him, or spiritual apathy towards Him, is guilt and crime.

And in closing, we desire to repeat and empha- size this truth. Whoever will enter upon that pro- cess of self-wrestling and self-conflict which has been described, will come to a profound sense of the truth which our Lord taught in the words of the text. All such will find and feel that they are in slavery, and that their slavery is their condem- nation. For the anxuus, weary, and heavy-laden sinner, the proble^-i is not mysterious, because it finds its solutio'a in the depths of his own self -con- sciousness. He needs no one to clear it up for him, and he has neither dou1)ts nor cavils respecting it.

But, ar. objection always assails that mind which has not the key of an inward moral struggle to un- lock tbe problem for it. When Christ asserts that '• whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin," the easy and indifferent mind is swift to draw the in- ference that this bondage is its misfortune, and that the poor slave does not deserve to be punished, but to be set free. He says as St. Paul did in another connection : " Nay verily, but let them come them- selves, and fetch us out." But this slavery is a self- enslavement. Th<' feet of this man have not been

SI^ IS SPIEITUAL SLAYEET. 229

thrust into the stocks by another. This logician must refer everything to its own 23roj)er author, and its ovm proj^er cause. Let this spiritual bond- age, therefore, be charged upon the self that origi- nated it. Let it be referred to that self-will in which it is wrapped up, and of which it is a constit- uent element. It is a universally received maxim, that the agent is responsible for the consequences of a voluntary act, as well as for the act itself. If, therefore, the human will has inflicted a suicidal blow upon itself, and one of the consequences of its own determination is a total enslavement of itself to its own detennination, then this enslaving^ result of the act, as well the act itself, must all go in to constitute and s^vell the sum-total of human guilt. The miserable drunkard, therefore, cannot be ab- solved fi'om the drunkard's condemnation, upon the plea that by a long series of voluntary acts he has, in the end, so enslaved himself that no 2:>ower but God's grace can save him. The marble-hearted fiend in hell, the absolutely lost spirit in despair, cannot relieve his torturing sense of guilt, by the reflection that he has at leno-th so hardened his own heart that he cannot repent. The unforced will of a moral being must be held responsible for both its direct, and its rejlex action ; for both its sin, and its bond- age in sin.

The denial of guilt, then, is not the way out. He who takes this road "kicks ao;ainst the o-oads."

And he will find their stabs thickening', the farther 11

230 SIN IS SPIRITUAL SLAVERY.

he travels, and the nearer he draws to the face aiul eyes of God. But there is a way out. It is the way of self-knowledge and confession. This is the point upon which all the antecedents of salvation hinge. He who has come to know, with a clear discrimina- tion, that he is in a guilty bondage to his own incli- nation and lust, has taken the very first step towards freedom. For, the Redeemer, the Almighty Deliv- erer, is near the captive, so soon as the captive feels his bondage and confesses it. The mighty God walking upon the waves of this sinful, troubled life, stretches out His arm, the very instant any sinking soul cries, " Lord save me." And unless that appeal and confession of helplessness is made, He, the Mer- ciful and the Compassionate, will let the soul go down before His own eyes to the unfathomed abyss. If the sinking Peter had not uttered that cry, the mighty hand of Christ would not have been stretched forth. All the difficulties disappear, so soon as a man understands the truth of the Divine affirmation : " O Israel thou hast destroyed thyself," — it is a real destruction, and it is thy own work, — " but in ME is thy help."

THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL RELATION OW MAN

TO LAW

Romans vii. 10. — "The commandment which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death."

The reader of St. Paul's Epistles is struck with the seemingly disparaging manner in which he speaks of the moral law. In one place, he tells his reader that " the law entered that the offence might abound;" in another, that "the law worketh wrath ; " in another, that " sin shall not have do- minion " over the believer because he is " not under the law ; " in another, that Christians " are become dead to the law ;'■ in another, that " they are delivered from the law ; " and in another, that " the strength of sin is the law." This phraseology sounds strangely, respecting that great commandment upon which the whole moral government of God is founded. We are in the habit of supposing that nothing that springs from the Divine law, or is in any way connected with it, can be evil or the occa- sion of evil. If the law of holiness is the strength of sin ; if it woiketh wrath ; if good men are to

232 THE OEIGIJSTAL AKD THE ACTUAL

be delivered from it ; what then shall be said of the law of sin ? Why is it, that St. Paul in a cer- tain class of his representations appears to be inim- ical to the ten commandments, and to warn Chris- tians against them ? " Is the law sin ? " is a ques- tion that very naturally arises, while reading some of his statements; and it is a question which he himself asks, because he is aware that it will be likely to start in the mind of some of his readers. And it is a question to which he replies : " God for- bid. Nay I had not known sin, but by the law.""'

The difficulty is only seeming, and not real. These apparently disparaging representations of the moral law are perfectly reconcilable with that profound reverence for its authority which St. Paul felt and exhibited, and with that solemn and cogent preaching of the law for which he was so distin- guished. The text explains and resolves the diffi- culty. " The commandment which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death." The moral law, in its own nature, and by the Divine ordination, is suited to produce holiness and happiness in the soul of any and every man. It was ordained to life. So far as the purpose of God, and the original na- ture and character of man, are concerned, the ten commandments are perfectly adapted to iill the soul with peace and purity. In the unfallen crea- ture, they work no wrath, neither are they the strength of sin. If everything in man had re- mained as it was created, there would have been

RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 283

no need of urging him to " become dead to the law," to be " delivered from the law," and not be '' under the law." Had man kept his original right- eousness, it could never be said of him that " the strength of sin is the law." On the contrary, there was such a mutual agreement between the unfallen nature of man and the holy law of God, that the latter was the very joy and strength of the former. The commandment was ordained to life, and it was the life and peace of holy Adam.

The oricjinal relation between man's nature and the moral law was precisely like that between material nature and the material laws. There has been no apostasy in the system of matter, and all things remain there as they were in the beginning of creation. The law of gravitation, this very instant, rules as peacefully and supremely in every atom of matter, as it did on the morning of crea- tion. Should material nature be " delivered " from the law of gravitation, chaos would come again. No portion of this fair and beautiful natural world needs to become " dead " to the laws of nature. Such phraseology as this is inapplicable to the re- lation that exists between the world of matter, and the system of material laws, because, in this mate- rial sphere, there has been no revolution, no rebel- lion, no great catastrophe analogous to the fall of Adam. The law here was ordained to life, and the ordinance still stands. And it shall stand until, by the will of the Creator, these elements shall

234 THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL

melt with fervent heat, and these heavens shall pass away with a great noise ; until a new system of nature, and a new legislation for it, are introduced.

But the case is different with man. He is not standing where he was, when created. He is out of his original relations to the law and government of God, and therefore that which was ordained to him for life, he now finds to be unto death. The food which in its own nature is suited to minister to the health and strength of the well man, becomes poison and death itself to the sick man.

With this briet notice of the fact, that the law of* God wasL ordained to life, and that therefore this disparaging phraseology of St. Paul does not refer to the intrinsic nature of law, which he expressly informs us "is holy just and good," nor to the origi- nal relation which man sustained to it before he became a sinner, let us now proceed to consider some particulars in which the commandment is found to be unto death, to every slnfid man.

The law of God shows itself in the human soul, in the form of a sense of dutij. Every man, as he walks these streets, and engages in the business or pleasures of life, hears occasionally the words: "Thou shalt; thou shalt not." Everyman, as he passes along in this earthly pilgrimage, finds him- self saying to himself: "I ought, I ought not." This is the voice of law sounding in the conscience ; and every man may know, whenever he hears these words, that he is listening to the same authority

RELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 235

that cut the ten commandments into the stones of Sinai, and sounded that awful trumpet, and will one day come in power and great glory to judge the quick and dead. Law, we say, expresses itself for man, while here upon earth, through the sense of duty. " A sense of duty pursues us ever," said Webster, in that impressive allusion to the work- ings of conscience, in the trial of the Salem mur- derers. This is the accusing- and condemnins; sen- sation., in and by which the written statute of God becomes a living energy, and a startling voice in the soul. Cut into the rock of Sinai, it is a dead letter ; written and printed in our Bibles, it is still a dead letter ; but wrought in this manner into the fabric of our own constitution, waylaying us in our hours of weakness, and irresolution, and secrecy, and speaking to our inward being in tones that are as startling as any that could be addressed to the physical ear, — undergoing this transmutation, and becoming a continual consciousness of duty and obli- gation, the law of God is more than a letter. It is a possessing spirit, and according as we obey or disobey, it is a guardian angel, or a tormenting fiend. We have disobeyed, and therefore the sense of duty is a tormenting sensation ; the com- mandment which was ordained to life, is found to be unto death.

I. In the first place, to go into the analysis, the sense of duty is a sorrow and a pain to sinful man, because \t places him under a continual restraint.

23 G THE ORIGINAL AT^D THE ACTUAL

No creature can be happy, so long as he feels himself' under limitations. To be checked, reined in, and thwarted in any way, renders a man uneasy and discontented. The universal and instinctive desire for freedom, — freedom fro!n restraint, — is a proof of this. Every creature wishes to follow out his inclination, and in proportion as he is hindered in so doing, and is compelled to work counter to it, he is restless and dissatisfied.

Now the sense of duty exerts just this influence, upon sinful man. It opposes his wishes ; it thwarts his inclination ; it imposes a restraint upon his spontaneous desires and appetites. It continually hedges up his way, and seeks to stop him in the path of his choice and his pleasure. If his inclina- tion were only in harmony with his duty; if his desires and ajEfections were one with the law of God ; there would be no restraint from the law. In this ease, the sense of duty would be a joy and not a soiTow, because, in doing his duty, he would be doing what he liked. There are only two ways, whereby contentment can be introduced into the human soul. If the Divine Javv^ could be altered so that it should agree with man's sinful inclination, he could be happy in sin. The commandment having become like his own heart, there would, of course, be no conflict between the two, and he might sin on forever and lap himself in Elysium. And undoubtedly there are thousands of luxuriT)us and guilty men, who, if they could, like the Eastern

EELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 287

Semiramis, would make lust and law alike in tkeir decree;^ would transmute the law of holiness into a law of sin ; would put evil for good, and good for evil, bitter for sweet and sweet for bit- ter; in order to be eternally liappy in tke sin that they love. They would bring duty and in- clination into harmony, by a method that would annihilate duty, would annihilate the eternal dis- tinction between right and wrong, would annihilate God himself But this method, of course, is impos- sible. There can be no transmutation of law, though there can be of a creature's character and in- clination. Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the commandment of God can never pass away. The only other mode, therefore, by which duty and inclination can be brought into agreement, and the continual sense of restraint which renders man so wretched be removed, is to change the inclination. The instant the desires and affections of our hearts are transformed, so that they accord with the Divine law, the conflict between our will and our conscience is at an end. When I come to love the law of holiness and delight in it, to obey it is sim- ply to follow out my inclination. And this, we have seen, is to be happy.

But such is not the state of thins^s, in the unre-

' " She in vice Of luxury was so shameless, that she made Liking to be lawful by promulged decree. To clear the blame she had herselt incurr'd."

Dante : Inferno, v. 56. 11*

238 THE ORIGIIiAL AND THE ACTUAL

newed soul. Duty and inclination are in conflict. Man's desires appetites and tendencies are in one di- rection, and his conscience is in the other. The sense of duty holds a whip over him. He yields to his sinful inclination, finds a momentary pleasure in so doing, and then feels the stings of the scorpion-lash. We see this operation in a very plain and striking manner, if we select an instance where the appetite is very strong, and the voice of conscience is very loud. Take, for example, that particular sin which most easily besets an individual. Every man has such a sin, and knows what it is. Let him call to mind the innumerable instances in which that par- ticular temptation has assailed him, and he will be startled to discover how many thousands of times the sense of duty has put a restraint upon him. Though not in every single instance, yet in hun- dreds and hundreds of cases, the law of God has uttered the, " Thou shalt not," and endeavored to prevent the consummation of that sin. And what a wearisome experience is this. A continual forth- putting of an unlawful desire, and an almost inces- sant check upon it, from a law which is hated but which is feared. For such is the attitude of the natural heart toward the commandment. "The carnal mind is enmity against the law of God." The two are contrary to one another; so that when the heart goes out in its inclination, it is immedi- ately hindered and opposed by the law. Sometimes the collision between them is teri-ible, and the soul

RELATION OF MAN TO LAY/. 239

heoomes an arena of tumultuous passions. Tlie heart and will are intensely determined to do wrong, while the conscience is unyielding and uncompro- mising, and utters its denunciations, and thunders its warnings. And what a dreadful destiny awaits that soul, in whom this conflict and collision l)e- tween the dictates of conscience, and the desires of the heart, is to be eternal ! for whom, through all eternity, the holy law of God, which was ordained to life peace and joy, shall be found to be unto death and woe immeasurable !

II. In the second place, the sense of duty is a pain and sorrow to a sinful man, because it de- mands a ^perpetual effort from him.

No creature likes to tug, and to lift. Service must be easy, in order to be happy. If you lay upon the shoulders of a laborer a burden that strains his muscles almost to the point of rupture, you put him in physical pain. His physical struc- ture was not intended to be subjected to such a stretch. His Creator designed that the burden should be proportioned to the power, in such a man- ner that work should be play. In the garden of Eden, j)hysical labor was physical pleasure, because the powers were in healthy action, and the work assigned to them was not a burden. Before the fall, man was simply to dress and keep a garden ; but after the fall, he was to dig up thorns and this- tles, and eat his bread in the sweat of his face. This is a eurse^ — the curse of being compelled to toil,

240 THE ORIGESTAL AND THE ACTUAL

and lift, and put the muscle to such a tension that it aches. This is not the original and happy con- dition of the body, in which man was created. Look at the toiling millions of the human family, who like the poor ant " for one small grain, labor, and tug, and strive ; " see them bending double, under the heavy weary load which they must carry until relieved by death ; and tell me if this is the physical elysium, the earthly paradise, in which unfallen man was originally placed, and for which he was originally designed. No, the curse of labor, of perpetual effort, has fallen upon the body, as the curse of death has fallen upon the soul; and the uneasiness and unrest of the erroaninof and struo;- gling body is a convincing proof of it. The whole physical nature of man groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now, waiting for the adoption, that is the redemj)tion of tJie hody from this penal necessity of perpetual strain and effort.

The same fact meets iis when we pass from the physical to the moral nature of man, and becomes much more sad and impressive. By creation, it was a pleasure and a pastime for man to keep the law of God, to do spiritual work. As created, he was not compelled to summon his energies, and strain his will, and make a convulsive resolution to obey the commands of his Maker. Obedience was joy. Holy Adam knew nothing of effort in the path of duty. It was a smooth and broad pathway, fringed with flowers, and leading into the meadows of as-

eelatiojN^ of man to law. 241

phodel. It did not become the ^' straight and nar- row " way, until sin had made obedience a toil, the sense of duty a restraint, and human life a race and a fight. By apostasy, the obligation to keep the Divine law perfectly, became repulsive. It was no longer easy for man to do right ; and it has never been easy or spontaneous to him since. Hence, the attempt to follow the dictates of conscience always costs an uu- regenerate man an effort. He is compelled to make a resolution ; and a resolution is the sign and signal of a difficult and unwelcome service. Take your own experience for an illusti'ation. Did you ever, ex- cept as you were sweetly inclined and drawn by the renewing grace of God, attempt to discharge a duty, without discovering that you were averse to it, and that you must gather up your energies for the work, as the leaper strains upon the tendon of Achilles to make the mortal leap. And if yon had not become weary, and given over the effort; if you had en- tered upon that sad but salutary passage in the re- ligious experience which is delineated in the seventh chapter of Eomans : if you had continued to struo-- gle and strive to do your duty, until you grew faint and weak, and powerless, and cried out for a higher and mightier power to succor you ;• you would have known, as you do not yet, what a deadly opposition there is between the carnal min(? and the law of God, and what a spasmodic effort it costs an un- renewed man even to attempt to discharge the in- numerable obligations that rest upon him. Mankind

242 THE ORIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL

would know more of this species of toil and labor, and of the cleaving curse involved in it, if they were under the same physical necessity in re- gard to it, that they lie under in respect to manual labor. A man miust dig up the thorns and thistles, he 'must earn his bread in the sweat of his face, or he must die. Physical wants, hunger and thirst, set men to work physically, and keep them at it ; and thus they well understand what it is to have a weary body, aching muscles, and a tii'ed physical nature. But they are not undei* the same species of necessity, in respect to the wants and the work of the soid. A man may neglect these, and yet live a long and luxurious life upon the earth. He is not driven by the very force of circumstances, to labor with his heart and will, as he is to laljor with his hands. And hence he knows little or nothing of a weary and heavy-laden soul ; nothing of an aching heart and a tired will. He well knows how much strain and effort it costs to cut down for- ests, open roads, and reduce the wilderness to a fer- tile field ; but he does not know how much toil and effort are involve<l, in the attempt to convert the human soul into the garden of the Lord.

Now in this demand for a 'perpetual effort v^'hich is made upon the natural man, by the sense of duty, we see that the law which was ordained to life is found to be unto death. The commandment, instead of being a pleasant friend and companion to the human soul, as it was in the beginning, has be-

EELATION OF MAN TO LAW. 243

come a strict rigorous task-master. It lays out an uncongenial work for sinful man to do, and threat- ens him with punishment and woe if he does not do it. And yet the law is not a tyrant. It is holy, just, and good. This work which it lays out is right- eous work, and ought to be done. The wicked disinclination and aversion of the sinner have com- pelled the law to assume this unwelcome and threat- ening attitude. That which is good was not made death to man by Grod's agency, and by a Divine ar- rangement, but by man's transgression.^ Sin pro- duces this misery in the human soul, through an in- strument that is innocent, and in its own nature benevolent and kind. Apostasy, the rebellion and corruption of the human heart, has converted the law of God into an exacting task-master and an avenging magistrate. For the law says to every man what St. Paul says of the magistrate : " Kulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou, then, not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same. For he is the minister of Grod to thee for good : hut if thou do that lohich is evil, be afraidP If man were only conformed to the law ; if the in- clination of his heart were only in harmony with his sense of duty ; the ten commandments would not be accompanied with any thunders or lightnings, and the discharge of duty would be as easy, spon-

* Romans vii. 13, 14.

244 THE OEIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL

taneous, and as much without effort, as the practice of sin now is.

Thus have we considered two particulars in which the Divine law, originally intended to render man happy, and intrinsically adapted to do so, now ren- ders liim miserable. The commandment which was ordained to life, he now finds to be unto death, be- cause it places him under a continual restraint, and drives him to a perpetual effort. These two partic- ulars, .we need not say, are not all the modes in which sin has converted the moral law from a joy to a sorrow. We have not discussed the G:reat sub- ject of guilt and penalty. This violated law charges home the past disobedience and threatens an ever- lasting damnation, and thus fills the sinful soul with fears and forebodings. In this way; also, the law becomes a terrible organ and instrument of misery, and is found to be unto death. But the limits of this discourse compel us to stop the discussion here, and to deduce some practical lessons which are suggested by it.

1. In the first place, we are taught by the sub- ject, as thus considered, that the latere sense of duty is not Christianity. If this is all that a man is pos- sessed of, he is not prepared for the day of judgment, and the future life. For the sense of duty, alone and by itself, causes misery in a soul that has not performed its duty. The law worketh wrath, in ji creature who has not obeved the law. The man that doeth these things shall indeed live by

EELATIOX OF MAN TO LAW. 245

them ; but he who has not done them must die by them.

There have been, and still are, great mistakes made at this point. Men have supposed that an active conscience, and a lofty susceptibility towards right and wrong, will fit them to appear before God, and have, therefore, rejected Christ the Pro- pitiation. They have substituted ethics for the gospel ; natural religion for revealed. " T know," sayslmmanuel Kant, "of but two beautiful things; the starry heavens above my head, and the sense of duty within my heart." ^ But, is the sense of duty heautiful to apostate man ? to a being who is not conformed to it ? Does the holy law of God over- arch him like the firmament, " tinged with a blue of heavenly dye, and starred with sparkling gold ? " Nay, nay. If there be any beauty in the condemn- ing law of God, for man the transgressor, it is tlie beauty of the lightnings. There is a splendor in them, but there is a terror also. Not until He who is the end of the law for righteousness has clothed me with His panoply, and shielded me from their glittering shafts in the clefts of the Kock, do I dare to look at them, as they leap from crag to crag, and shine from the east even unto the west.

We do not deny that the consciousness of respon-

' Kant : Kritik der Praktischen known, and whicli I have em- Verininft(Besclilnsz).— DeStael's ployed, is less guarded than the reiuleriuL' which is so well original.

24(3 THE OEIGINAL AND THE ACTUAL

sibility is a lofty one, and are by no means insen- sible to the grand and swelling sentiments concern- ing tlie moral law, and human duty, to which this noble thinker gives utterance.^ Bat we are certain that if the sense of duty had pressed upon him to the degree that it did upon St. Paul ; had the com- mandment " come " to him with the convicting ener- gy that it did to St. Augustine, and to Pascal ; he too would have discovered that the law which was ordained to life is found to be unto death. So long as man stands at a distance from the moral law, he can admire its glory and its beauty ; but when it comes close to him ; when it comes home to him ; when it becomes a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart ; then its glory is swallowed up in its ter- ror, and its beauty is lost in its truth. Then he who was alive without the law becomes slain by the law. Then this ethical admiration of the deca- loo-ue is exchan2:ed for an evauo-elical trust in Jesus

o o o

Christ.

2. And this leads us to remark, in the second place, that this subject shows tlie meaning of ChrisCs worh of Redemption. The law for an alien- ated and corrupt soul is a burden. It cannot be otherwise ; for it imposes a perpetual restraint, ur- ges up to an unwelcome duty, and charges home a fearful guilt. Christ is well named the Redeemer^ because He frees the sinful soul from all this. He

' Coilipiu-e tlie fine a])ostro- nfnft, p. 214, (Ed. Eosen- l>he to Duty. pKAKTiacuE Vek- kraiiz.)

EELATIOJSr OF MAN TO LAW. 247

delivers it from tlie penalty, by assuming it all upon Himself, and making complete satisfaction to tlie broken law. He delivers it from the perpetual re- straint and the irksome effort, by so renewing and changing the heart that it becomes a delight to keep the law. We observed, in the first part of the dis- course, that if man could only bring the inclination of his heart into agreement with his sense of duty, he would be happy in obeying, and the conscious- ness of restraint and of hateful effort would disap- pear. This is precisely what Christ accomplishes by His Spirit. He brings the human heart into harmony with the Divine law, as it was in the be- ginning, and thus rescues it from its bondage and its toil. Obedience becomes a pleasure, and the service of God, the highest Christian liberty. Oh, would that by the act of faith, you might experience this liberating effect of the redemption that is in Christ Jesus. So long as you are out of Christ, you are under a burden that will every day grow heavier, and may prove to be fixed and unremovable as the mountains. That is a fearful punishment which the poet Dante represents as being inflicted upon those who were guilty of pride. The poor wretches are compelled to support enormous masses of stone which bend them over to the ground, and, in his own stern phrase, " crumple up their knees into their breasts." Thus they stand, stooping over, every muscle trembling, the heavy stone weighing them down, and yet they are not permitted to fall,

248 EELATION OF MAN TO LAW.

and rest themselves upon the earth. ^ In this crouch^ ing posture, they must carry the weary heavy load without relief, and with a distress so great that, in the poet's own language,

" it seemed As he, who showed most patience in his look, Wailiug exclaimed : I can endure no more." *

Such is the posture of man unredeemed. There is a burden on him, under which he stoops and crouches. It is a burden compounded of guilt and corruption. It is lifted off by Christ, and by Christ only. The soul itself can never expiate its guilt ; can never cleanse its pollution. We urge you, once more, to the act of faith in the Redeemer of the world. We beseech you, once more, to make " the redemption that is in Christ Jesus " your own. The instant you plead the merit of Christ's oblation, in simple confidence in its atoning efficacy, that in- stant the heavy burden is lifted off by an Almighty hand, and your curved, stooping, trembling, aching form once more stands erect, and you walk abroad in the liberty wherewith Christ makes the human creature free.

' " Let their eyes be darkened, down their back alway." Eom. that they may not see, and bow xi. 10.

2 Dante: Purgatory x. 126-128.

THE SIN OF OMISSION

Matthew xix. 20. — "The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up : what lack I yet ? "

The narrative irom which the text is taken is familiar to all readers of the Bible. A wealthy- young man, of unblemished morals and amiable dis- position, came to our Lord, to inquire His opinion respecting his own good estate. He asked what good thing he should do, in order to inherit eternal life. The fact that he applied to Christ at all, shows that he was not entirely at rest in his own mind. He could truly say that he had kept the ten command- ments from his youth up, in an outward mannei- ; and yet he was ill at ease. He was afraid that when the earthly life was over, he might not be able to en- dure the judgment of God, and might fail to enter into that happy paradise of which the Old Testament Scriptures so often speak, and of which he had so often read, in them. This young man, though a moralist, was not a self-sati fied or a self-conceited one. For, had he been like the Pharisee a thorough- ly blinded and self-righleous person, like him he

250 THE SIN OF OMISSION'.

never would Lave approached Jesus of NazaretL, to obtain His opinion respecting his own religious character and prospects. Like him, he would have scorned to ask our Lord's judgment upon any mat- ters of religion. Like the Pharisees, he would have said, " We see," ^ and the state of his heart and his future prospects would have given him no anxiety. But he was not a conceited and presumptuous Pharisee. He was a serious and thoughtful person, though not a pious and holy one. For, he did not love God more than he loved his worldly posses- sions. He had not obeyed that first and great com- mand, upon which hang all the law and the proph- ets, conformity to which, alone, constitutes right- eousness : " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy mind, and all 'thy strength." He was not right at heart, and was therefore unprepared for death and judgment. This he seems to have had some dim apprehension of. For why, if he had felt that his external moral- ity was a solid rock for his feet to stand upon, why should he have betaken himself to Jesus of Naza- reth, to ask : " What lack I yet ? "

It was not what he had done, but what he had left undone, that wakened fears and forebodings in this young ruler's mind. The outward obser- vance of the ten commandments was riirht and well in its own way and place ; but the failure to obey, from the heart, the first and great command

' Jului ix. 41.

THE SIN OF OMISSIOlN. 251

was the condemnation that rested upon him. lie probably knew this, in some measure. He was not confidently certain of eternal life ; and therefore he came to the Great Teacher, hoping to elicit from Him an answer that would quiet his conscience, and allow him to repose upon his morality while he continued to love this world supremely. The Great Teacher pierced him with an arrow. He said to him, " If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : and come and follow me." This direction showed him what he lacked.

This incident leads us to consider the condem- nation that rests upon every man, for his failure in duty ; the guilt that cleaves to him, on account of what he has not done. The Westminster Cat- echism defines sin to be " any tva7it of conformity unto, or any transgression of, the law of God." Not to be conformed, in the heart, to the law and will of God, is as truly sin, as positively to steal, or positively to commit murder. Failure to come up to the line of rectitude is as punishable, as to step over that line. God requires of His creature that he stand squarely vj^^n the line of righteousness ; if therefore he is off that line, because he has not come up to it, he is as guilty as when he transgresses, or passes across it, upon the other side. This is the reason that the sin of omission is as punishable as the sin of commission. In either case alike, the man is off thelin<^ of rectitude. Hence, in the final

252 THE SIT^ OF OMISSIOlSr,

day, man will be condemned for what he lacks, for what he comes short of, in moral character. Want of conformity to the Divine law as really conflicts with the Divine law, as an overt transgression does, because it carries man off and away from it. One of the Greek words for sin {a[j.apravslv) signifies, to miss the mark. When the archer shoots at the tar- get, he as really fails to strike it, if his arrow falls short of it, as when he shoots over and beyond it. If he strains upon the bow with such a feeble force, that the arrow drops upon the ground long before it comes up to the mark, his shot is as total a failure, as when he strains upon the bow-string with all his force, but owing to an ill-directed aim sends his weapon into the air. One of the New Testament terms for sin contains this figure and illustration, in its etymology. Sin is a want of conformity unto, a failure to come clear up to, the line and mark pre- scribed by God, as well a violent and forcible break- ing over and beyond the line and the mark. The lack of holy love, the laeh of holy fear, the lack of filial trust and confidence in God, — the negative absence of tliese and other qualities in the heart is as truly sin and guilt, as is the positive and open violation of a particular commandment, in the act of theft, or lying, or Sabbath-breaking.

We propose, then, to direct attention to that form and aspect of human depravity which consists in coming short of the aim and end presented to man by his Maker, — that fonii and aspect of sin which

THE SIN OF OMISSION. 253

is presented in the young ruler's inquiry : " What lack I yet ? "

It is a comprehensive answer to this question to say, that every natural man Isicks sincere and Jilial love of God. This was the sin of the moral, but worldly, the amiable, but earthly-minded, young man. Endow him, in your fancy, with all the ex- cellence you please, it still lies upon the face of the narrative, that he loved money more than he loved the Lord God Almighty. When the Son of God bade him go and sell his property, and give it to the poor, and then come and follow Him as a docile disciple like Peter and James and John, he went away sad in his mind ; for he had great possessions. This was a reasonable requirement, though a very trying one. To command a young man of wealth and standing immediately to strip himself of all his property, to leave the circle in which he had been born and brought up, and to follow the Son of Man, who had not where to lay His head, up and down through Palestine, through good report and through evil report, — to put such a burden upon such a young man was to lay him under a very heavy load. Looking at it from a merely human and worldly point of view, it is not strange that the young ruler declined to take it upon his shoulders ; though he felt sad in declining, because he had the misgiving that in declining he was sealing his doom. But, had he laved the Lord God with all his heart ; had he been conformed unto the first and great com-

12

25-1 THE SIN OF o:missiox.

mand, in liis heart and affections ; had Le not lacked a spiritual and filial affection towards his Maker; he would have obeyed.

For, the circumstances under which this command was given must be borne in mind. It issued di- rectly from the lips of the Son of God Himself It was not an ordinary call of Providence, in the ordi- nary'manner in which God summons man to duty. There is reason to suppose that the young ruler knew and felt that Christ had authority to give such directions. We know not what were precisely his views of the person and office of Jesus of Naza- reth ; but the fact that he came to Him seeking in- struction respecting the everlasting kingdom of God and the endless life of the soul, and the yet further fact that he went away in sadness because he did not find it in his heart to obey the instructions that he had received, prove that he was at least some- what impressed with the Divine authority of our Lord. For, had he regarded Him as a mere or- dinar}^ mortal, knowing no more than any other man concerning the eternal kingdom of God, why should His words have distressed him ? Had this young ruler taken the view of our Lord which was held by the Scribes and Pharisees, like them he would never have sought instruction from Him in a respectful and sincere manner; and, like them, he would have replied to the command to strip hinr- self of all his pi-operty, leave the social circles to which he belonged, and follow the despised Naza-

THE SIN OF OMISSION. 255

rene, with the curling lip of scorn. He would not have gone away in sorrow^, })Ut in contempt. We must assume, therefore, that this young ruler felt that the person with whom he was conversing, and who had given him this extraordinary command, had authority to give it. We do not gather fi'oni the narrative that he doubted upon this point. Had he doubted, it would have relieved the sorrow with which his mind was disturbed. He might have justified his refusal to obey, by the considera- tion that this Jesus of Nazareth had no ricjht to summon him, or any other man, to forsake the world and attach himself to His person and purposes, if any such consideration had entered his mind. No, the sorrow, the deep, deep sorrow and sadness, with which he went away to the beggarly elements of his houses and his lands, proves that he knew too well that this wonderful Being who was working miracles, and speaking words of wisdom that never man spake, had indeed authority and right to say to him, and to every other man, " Go and sell that thou hast, and give to the pooi', and thou shalt have treasure in heaven : and come and follow me."

Though the command was indeed an extraordinary one, it was given in tin extraordinary manner, by an extraordinary Being. That young ruler was not re- quired to do any more than you and I would be obligated to do, in the same circumstances. It is indeed true, that in the o/Y/Z/^c/r^/ providence of God, you and I are not summoned to sell all our posses-

256 THE SIX OF 0]MIS310iSr.

sions, and distribute them to the poor, and to go np and down the streets of this city, or up and down the Jiigh-ways and by-ways of the land, as mis- sionaries of Chi-ist. But if the call were eiiror ordinary^ — if the heavens should open above our heads, and a voice from the skies should command us in a manner not to be doubted or dis- puted to do this particular thing, we ought imme- diately to do it. And if the love of God were in our hearts ; if we were inwardly " conformed unto " the Divine law ; if there were nothing lacking in our religious character; we should obey with the same directness and alacrity with which Peter and Andrew, and James and John, left their nets and their fishing-boat, their earthly avocations, their fathers and their fathers' households, and followed Christ to the end of their days. In the present circum- stances of the* church and the world. Christians must follow the ordinary indications of Divine Providence ; and though tliese do unquestionably call upon them to make far greater sacrifices for the cause of Christ than they now make, yet they do not call upon them to sell all that they have, and give it to the poor. But they ought to be I'eady and willing to do so, in case God by any remarkable and direct expression should indicate that this is His will and pleasure. Should our Lord, for illus- tration, d(^scend again, and in His own person say to His people, as He did to the young ruler : " Sell all that ye have, and give to the poor, and' go up

THE SIN OF OMISSION. 25Y

and down the earth ]3reaching the gospel," it would be the duty of every rich Christian to strip himself of all his riches, and of every poor Christian to make himself yet poorer, and of the whole Church to adopt the same course that was taken by the early Christians, who " had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods and parted them to all men, as every man had need." The direct and explicit command of the Lord Jesus Christ to do any particular thing must be obeyed at all haz- ards, and at all cost. Should He command any one of His disciples to lay down his life, or to undergo a severe discipline and experience in His service. He must be obeyed. This is what He means when He says, "If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple. And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple " (Luke xiv. 26, 27).

The young ruler was subjected to this test. It Avas his privilege, — and it was a great privilege, — to see the Son of God face to face; to hear His words of wisdom and authority ; to know without any doubt or ambiguity what particular thing God would have him do. And he refused to do it. He was moral ; he was amiable ; but he refused point-Uanh to obey the direct command of God addressed to him from the very lips of God. It was with him as it would be with us, if the

258 THE sijsr of omissioj^.

sky should open over our beads, and the Son of God should descend, and with His own lips should command us to perform a particular service, and we should he disobedient to the heavenly vision, and should say to the Eternal Son of God : " We will not." Think you that there is nothing laching in such a character as this ? Is this religious perfec- tion ? Is such a heart as this " conformed unto " the law and will of God ?

If, then, we look into the character of the young ruler, we perceive that there was in it no supreme affection for God. On the contrary, he loved him- self with all his heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. Even his religious anxiety, which led him to our Lord for His opinion concerning his good estate, proved to be a merely selfish feeling. He desired immortal felicity beyond the tomb, — and the most irreligious man upon earth desires this, — but he did not possess such an affection for God as inclined, and enabled, him to obey His explicit com- mand to make a sacrifice of his worldly possessions for His glory. And this lack of supreme love to God was sin. It was a deviation from the line of eternal rectitude and righteousness, as really and truly as murder, adultery, or theft, or any outward breach of any of those commandments which he afiSrmed he had kept from his youth up. This coming short of the Divine honor and glory was as much contrary to the Divine law, as any overt transgression of it could be.

THE Sm OF OMISSION. i.59

For love is the fiiliilliuQ; of the law. The whole law, according to Christ, is sumiiied up and con- tained in these words: "Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." To be destitute of this heavenly affec- tion is, therefore, to break the law at the very cen- tre and in the very substance of it. Men tell us, like this young ruler, that they do not murder, lie, or steal, — that they observe all the commandments of the second table pertaining to man and their relations to man, — and ask, " What lack we yet ? " Alexander Pope, in the most brilliant and polished poetry yet composed by human art, sums up the whole of human duty in the observance of the rules and rec|uiremeuts of civil morality, and af- firms that " an honest man is the noblest work of God." But is this so ? Has religion reached its last term, and ultimate limit, when man respects the rights of property ? Is a person who keeps his hands off the o-oods and chattels of his fellow- creature really qualified for the heavenly state, by reason of this fact and virtue of honesty? Has he attained the chief end of man ? ^ Even if we could suppose a perfect obedience of all the statutes of the second table, w^hile those of the first table were disobeyed ; even if one could fulfil all his obli-

* Even if we should widen the turn. Honor and high-minded- meaning of the word "honest," ness towards man is not love and in tlie above-mentioned dictum reverence towards God. The of Pope, and make it include the spirit of chivalry is not the spirit J.atin " honestum," the same ob- of Christianity, j.ction" wou d lie against the die-

260 THE siisr OF OMissioisr.

gcitions to his neighbor, while failing in all his ob- ligations to his Maker ; even if we should concede a perfect morality, without any religion; would it be true that this morality, or obedience of only one of the two tables that cover the whole field of human duty, is sufficient to prepare man for the everlasting future, and the immediate presence of God ? Who has informed man that the first table of the law is of no consequence; and that if he only loves his neighbor as himself, he need not love his Maker supremely ?

No ! Affection in the heart towards the great and glorious God is the sum and substance of religion, and whoever is destitute of it is irreligious and sin- ful in the inmost spirit, and in the highest degree. His fault relates to the most excellent and worthy Being in the universe. He comes short of his duty, in reference to that Being who more than any otlier one is entitled to his love and his services. We say, and we say correctly, that if a man fails of fulfilling his obligations towards those who have most claims upon him, he is more ciilpalde than when he fails of his duty towards those who have less claims upon him. If a son comes short of his duty towards an affectionate and self-sacrificing mother, we say it is a greater fiiult, than if he comes short of his duty to a fellow-citizen. The parent is nearer to him than the citizen, and he owes unto her a wanner affection of his heart, and a more active service of his life, than he owes to his

THE SIIS^ OF OMISSIOIS". 201

fellow-citizen. What would be thought of that son who should excuse his neglect, or ill-treatment, of the mother that bore him, upon the ground that lie had never cheated a fellow-man and had been scrupulous in all his mercantile transactions ! This but feebly illustrates the relation which every man sustains to God, and the claim which God has upon every man. Our first duty and obligation relates to our Maker. Our fellow-creatures have claims upon us ; the dear partners of our blood have claims upon us ; our own personality, with its infi- ]iite destiny for weal or woe, has claims upon us. But no one of these ; not all of them combined ; have upon us that Jirst claim whicb God challenges for Himself. Social life, — the state or the nation to which we belong, — cannot say to us : '' Thou shalt love me with all thy heart, and soul, and mind, and strength." The family, which is bone of our bone, and fiesli of our flesh, cannot say to us : " Thou shalt love us, with all thy soul, mind, heart, and strength." Even our own deathless and priceless soul cannot say to us : " Thou shalt love me su- premely, and before all other beings and things." But the infinite and adorable God, the Being that made us, and has redeemed us, can of right demand that we love and honor Him first of all, and chiefest of all.

There are two thoughts suggested by the sub- ject which we have been considering, to which we now invite candid attention.

12*

262 THE SIN OF OMISSION.

1. In the first place, this suLject convicts every man of sin. Our Lord, by bis searching reply to the young ruler's question, " What lack I yet ? " sent him away veiy sorrowful ; and what man, in any age 'and country, can apply the same test to himself, without finding: the same unwillino-ness to sell all that he has and give to the poor, — the same indisposition to obey any and every command of God that crosses his natural inclinations ? Every natural man, as he subjects his character to such a trial as that to which the young ruler was subjected, will discover as he did that he lacks supreme love of God, and like him, if he has any moral earnestness ; if he feels at all the obligation of duty; will go away very sorrowful, because he perceives very plainly the conflict between his will and his conscience. How many a person, in the generations that have already gone to the judgment-seat of Christ, and in the gene- ration that is now on the way thither, has been at times brought face to face with the great and first command, " Thou shall love the Lord thy God with all thy heart," and by some particular requirement has been made conscious of his utter opposition to that great law. Some special duty was urged upon him, by the providence, or the word, or the Spirit of God, that could not be performed unless his will were subjected to God's will, and unless his love for himself and the world were subordinated to his love of his Maker. If a young man, perhaps he was commanded to c( nsecrate his talents and education

THE SIN OF OMissioisr, 263

to a life of philanthropy and service of God in the gospel, instead of a life devoted to secular and pecuniary aims. God said to him, by His providence, and by conscience, " Go teach my gos- pel to the perishing; go preach my word to the dying and the lost." But he loved worldly ease pleasure and reputation more than he loved God ; and he refused, and went away sorrowful, because this poor world looked very bright and alluring, and the path of selt-denial and duty looked very forbidding. Or, if he was a man in middle life, perhaps he was commanded to abate his interest in plans for the accumulation of wealth, to con- tract his enterprises, to give attention to the con- cerns of his soul and the souls of his children,- to make his own peace with God, and to consecrate the remainder of his life to Christ and to human welfare ; and when this plain and reasonable course of conduct was dictated to him, he found his whole heart rising up against the proposition. Our Lord, alluding to the fact that there was nothing in com- mon between His spirit, and the spirit of Satan, said to His disciples, " The prince of this world Cometh, and hath nothing in me " (John xiv. 30). So, when the command to love God supremely comes to this man of the world, in any particular form, "it hath nothing in him." This first and great law finds no ready and genial response within his heart, but on the contrary a recoil within his soul as if some great monster had started up in his

261- THE SIN OF OMISSION

pathway. He says, in Lis mind, to the proposition : "Anything but that;" and, with the young ruler, he goes away sorrowful, because he knows that refusal is perdition.

Is there not a wonderful power to convict of sin, in this test ? If you tr}^ yourself, as the young man did, by the command, "Thou shalt not kill," "Thou shalt not steal," "Thou shalt not commit adultery," you may succeed, perhajos, in quieting your conscience, to some extent, and in possessing yourself of the opinion of your fitness for the king- dom of God. But ask yourself the question, " Do I love God supremely, and am I ready and willing to do any and every particular thing that He shall command me to do, even if it is plucking out a right eye, or cutting off a right hand, or selling all my goods to give to the poor ? " try yourself b}'^ this test, and see if you lack anything in your moral character. When this thorough and proper touch-stone of character is applied, there is not found, upon earth a just man that doeth good and sinneth not. Every human creature, by this test is concluded under siu. Every man is found lacking in what he ought to possess, when the words of the commandment are sounded in his ear : "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul, and all thy mind, and all thy strength." This sum and substance of the Divine law, upon which hang all the other laws, convinces every man of sin. For there is no escap-

THE SIN" OF OMISSIOJSr. 265

ing its force. Love of God is a distinct and definite feeling, and every person knows whether lie ever experienced it. Every man knows whether it is, or is not, an affection of his heart ; and he knows that if it be wanting, the foundation of religion is wanting; in his soul, and the sum and substance of sin is there.

2. And this leads to the second and concludino;; thought suggested by the subject, namely, that ex- cept a man he horn again^ he cannot see the hingdoni of God. If there be any truth in the discussion through which we have passed, it is plain and in- controvertible, that to be destitute of holy love to God is a departure and deviation from the moral law. It is a coming short of the gi'eat requirement that rests upon every accountable creature of God, and this is as truly sin and guilt as any violent and open passing over and beyond the line of rectitude. The sin of omission is as deep and damning as the sin of commission. "Forgive," — -said the dying archbishop Usher, — " forgive all my sins, especially my sins of omission."

But, how is this lack to be supplied ? How is this great hiatus in human character to be filled up ? How shall the fountain of holy and filial affection towards God be made to gush up into everlasting life, within your now unloving and hostile heart ? There is no answer to this question of questions, l)ut in the Person and Work of the Holy Gliast. If God shall shed al>road His love in your lieai't, by

26G THE SIN OF OMISSION

tlie Holy Ghost wliich is given unto you, you will know the blessedness of a new aifection ; and will be able to say with Peter, " Thou knowest all things ; thou knowest that I love thee." You are shut up to this method, and this influence. To generate within yourself this new spiritual emotion which you have never yet felt, is utterly imj)ossible. Yet you must get it, or religion is impossi1>le, and immortal life is impossible. Would that you might feel your straits, and your helplessness. Would that you might perceive your total lack of supreme love of God, as the young ruler perceived his; and would that, unlike him, instead of going away from the Son of God, you would go to Him, crying, " Lord create wdthin me a clean lieart, and renew within me a right spirit." Then the problem would be solved, and having peace with God through the blood of Christ, the love of God would be shed abroad in your hearts, through the Holy Ghost given unto you.

THE SINFULNESS OP ORIGINAL SIN

Matthew xix. 20. — "The young man saith unto him, All these things have I kept from my youth up : what lack I yet ? "

In the preceding discourse from these words, we discussed that form and aspect of sin which consists in " coming short " of the Divine law, or, as the Westminster Creed states it, in a " want of confor- mity " unto it. The deep and fundamental sin of the 3^oung ruler, we found, lay in what he lacked. When our Lord tested him,' he proved to be utter- ly destitute of love to God. . His soul was a com- plete vacuum, in reference to that great holy affec- tion which fills the hearts of all the good beings before the throne of God, and without which no creature can stand, or will wish to stand, in the Di- vine presence. The young ruler, though outwardly moral and amiable, when searched in the inward parts was found wanting in the sum and substance of religion. He did not love God ; and he did love himself and his ^possessions.

What man has omitted to do, what man is des- titute of, — this is a species of sin which he does not

2 08 SINFULNESS OF OEIGINAL SIN.

sufficiently consider, and wliicli is weighing lilm down to perdition. The unregenerate person wlien pressed to repent of his sins, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, often beats back the kind effort, by a question like that which Pilate put to the infuriated Jews : " Why, what evil have I done ? " It is the subject of his actual and overt transgres- sions that comes first into his thoughts, and, like the young ruler, he tells his spiritual fiiend and adviser that he has kept all the commandments from his youth up. The conviction of sin would be more common if the natural man would consider his /<fir/^ lives ; if he would look into his heart and perceive what he is destitute of, and into his conduct and. see what he has left undone.

In pursuing this subject, we propose to show, still further, the guiltiness of every man, from the fact that he lachs the original r'ighteousness tliat once belonged to Mm. We shall endeavor to prove that every child of Adam is under condemnation, or, in the words of Chi-ist, that " the wrath of God abides upon him " (John iii. 86), because he is not possessed of that j^ure and perfect character which his Maker gave him in the beginning. Man is cul- ])able for not continuing to stand upon the high and sinless i:)osition, in which he was originally placed. When the young ruler's question is put to the natural man, and the inquiry is made as to his defects and deficiency, it is invarial^ly discovered that he lacks the image of God in \vhicli lie was

SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN, 269

created. And for a rational being to be destitute of the image of God is sin, guilt, and condemnation, because every rational being has once received this image.

God has the right to demand from every one of his responsible creatures, all that the creature might be, had he retained possession of the endowments which he received at creiition, and had he employed them with fidelity. The perfect gifts and capacities originally bestowed upon man, and not the muti- lated and damaged powers subsequently arising from a destructive act of self will, furnish the jjroper rule of measurement, in estimating human merit or de- merit. The faculties of intelligence and will as lui- fallen^ and not as fallen, determine the amount of holiness and of service that may be demanded, uiDon principles of strict justice, from every individ- ual. All that man "comes short" of this is so much sin, guilt, and condemnation.

When the great Sovereign and Judge looks do^^'n from His throne of righteousness and equity, upon any one of the children of men. He considers what that creature was by creation^ and compares his present character and conduct with the character with which he was originally endowed, and the con- duct that would naturally have flowed therefrom. God made man holy and perfect. God created man in his own image (Gen i. 26), " endued with knowl- edo-e, risrhteousness, and true holiness, havino; the law of God written in his heart, and power to lal til

270 SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN.

it." This is the statement of the Creed- which we accept as a fair and accurate digest of the teachings of Revelation, respecting the primitive character of man, and his original righteousness. And all evan- gelical creeds, however they may differ from each other in their deiinitions of original rio-hteousness, and their estimate of the perfections and jjowers granted to man by creation, do yet agree that he stood higher when he came from the hand of God than he now stands ; that man's actual character and conduct do not come up to man's created pow- er and capacities. Solemn and condemning as it is, it is yet a fact, that inasmuch as every man was originally made in the holy image of God, he ought, this very instant to be perfectly holy. He ought to be standing upon a position that is as high above his actual position, as the heavens are high above the earth. He ought to be possessed of a moral perfection without spot or wrinkle, or any such thing. He ought to be as he was, when created in righteousness and true holiness. He ought to be dwelling high up on those lofty and glori- ous heights where he was stationed by the benevo- lent hand of his Maker, instead of wallowing in those low depths where he has fallen by an act of apostasy and rebellion. Nothing short of this satisfies the obligations that are resting upon him. An imperfect holiness, such as the Christian is pos- sessed of while here upon earth, does not come up to the righteous requirement of the moral law ; and

SIIfFUmESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. 271

certainly that kind of moral character which belongs to the natural man is still farther off from the sum- total that is demanded.

Let us press this truth, that we may feel its con- victing and condemning energy. When our Maker speaks to us upon the subject of His claims and our oblio-ations, He tells us that when we came forth from nonentity into existence, fi-om His hand, we were well endowed, and well furnished. He tells us distinctly, that He did not create us the depraved and sinful beings that we now are. He tells us that these earthly affections, this carnal mind, this enmity towards the Divine law, this disinclination towards religion and spiritual concerns, this ab- sorbing love of the world and this supreme love of self, — that these were not implanted or infused into the soul by our wise, holy, and good Creator. This is not His work. This is no part of the furni- ture with which mankind were set up for an ever- lasting existence. " God saw everything that he had made, and behold it was very good " (Gen. i. 31). We acknowledge the mystery that overhangs the union and connection of all men with the first man. We know that this corruption of man's nature, and this sinfulness of his heart, does indeed appear at the very beginning of his individual life. He is conceived in sin, and shapen in iniquity (Ps. li. 5). This selfish disposition, and this alienation of the heart from God, is native depravity, is in- born corruption. This we know both from Re vela-

272 SINFULNESS OF ORIGESTAL SIN.

tioii, and observation. But we also know, from the same infallible Kevelation, that thouirh man is boi'n a sinner from the sinful Adam, he was created a saint in the holy Adam. By origin he is holy, and by descent he is sinful ; because there has intervened, between his creation and his birth, that "offence of one man whereby all men were made sinners" (Rom. v. 18, 19). Though we cannot unravel the whole mystery of this subject, yet if we accept the revealed fact, and concede that God did originally make man in His own image, in righteousness and true holiness, and that man has since unmade himself, by the act of apostasy and rebellion,^ — if we take this as the true and correct statement of the facts in the case, then we can see how and why it is, that God has claims upon His creature, man, that extend to what this creature originally was and was capable of becoming, and not merely to what he now is, and is able to per- form.

When, therefore, the young ruler's question, " What lack I ? " is asked and answered upon a broad scale, each and every man must say : " I lack original righteousness; I lack the holiness with which God created man ; I lack that perfection of

' The Augustiiiian doctrine, fallen and vitiated by an act of

that the entire human spocies self-will has been procreated or

was created on the sixth day, ex- individualized, permits tiie theo-

isted as a naliire (not as individ- Ionian to say that all men are

uals) in tlie first hutnaii pair, act- equally concei-ned in the origin of

ed in and fell witli them in the sin. and to ciiarge the guilt of its

first transgression, and a^ t!:iis origin upon all alike.

SEsrruLisrEss of oeiginal sin. 273

character wliicli beloncred to mv rational and iin- mortal nature coming fresh from the hand of God in the person of Adam ; I lack all that I should now he possessed of, had that nature not apostatized from its Maker and its Sovereign." And when God forms His estimate of man's obligations ; when He lays judgment to the line, and righteousness to the plummet ; He goes back to the hegitining^ He goes back to creation^ and demands from His rational and immortal creature that perfect service which he was capable of rendering by creation, but which now he is unable to render because of subsequent apostasy. For, God cannot adjust His demands to the alterations which sinful man makes in himself. This would be to annihilate all demands and obli- gations. A sliding-scale would be introduced, by this method, that would reduce human duty by degrees to a minimum, where it would disappear. For, the more sinful a creature becomes, the less inclined, and consequently the less able does he become to obey the law of God. If, now, the Eter- nal Judge shapes His requisitions in accordance with the shifting character of His creature, and lowers His law -down just as fast as the sinner en- slaves himself to lust and sin, it is plain that sooner or later all moral obligation will run out ; -and whenever the creature becomes totally enslaved to self and flesh, there will no longer be any claims resting upon him. But this cannot be so. " For • the kingdom of heaven," — says our Lord, — " is as a

274 siis^FULNESs or ohiginal six.

man travelling into a far country, who called his own servants and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one he gave five talents, and to another two, and to another one ; and straightway took his journey." When the settlement was made, each and every one of the parties was righteously sum- moned to account for all that had originally been intrusted to him, and to show a faithful improve- ment of the same. If any one of the servants had been found to have " lacked " a part, or the whole, of the original treasure, because he had culpably lost it, think you that the fact that it was now gone from his possession, and was past recovery, would have been accepted as a valid excuse from the original obligations imposed upon him? In like manner, the fact, that man cannot reinstate himself in his original condition of holiness and blessedness, from which he has fallen by apostasy, will not suf- fice to justify him before God for being in a help- less state of sin and misery, or to give him any claims upon God for deliverance from it. God can and diOda pity him, in his ruined and lost estate, and if the creature will cast himself upon Ilis mercy, ac- knowledo-ino; the ri<j::hteousness of the entire claims of God upon him for a sinless perfection and a per- fect service, he Avill meet and find mere}''. But if he takes the ground that he does not owe such an immense debt as this, and that God has no right to demand from him, in his apostate and helpless condition, the same perfection of character and

SINFULNESS. OF ORIGINAL SIN. ^iO

obedience wliicli holy Adam possessed and rendered, and which the unfallen angels possess and render, God will leave him to the workings of conscience, and the operations of stark unmitigated law and justice. " The kingdom of heaven," — says our Lord, — "is likened unto a certain king which would take account of his servants. And when he had beo-un to reckon, one was broug^ht unto him which owed him ten thousand talents ; but forasmuch as he had not to pay, his lord commanded him to be sold, and his wife, and children, and all that he had, and payment to be made. The servant there- fore fell down, and worshipped him, saying, Lord, have patience with me, and I will pay thee all. Then the lord of that servant was moved with com- passion, and loosed him, and forgave him the debt" (Matt, xviii. 28-27). But suppose that that ser- vant had disputed the claim, and had put in an appeal to justice instead of an appeal to mercy, upon the ground that inasmuch as he had lost his property and had nothing to pay with, therefore he was not obligated to pay, think you that the king would have conceded the equity of the claim ? On the contrary, he would have entered into no argument in so plain a case, but would have " de- livered him to the tormentors, till he should pay all that was due unto him." So likewise shall the heavenly Father do also unto you, and to eveiy man, who attempts to diminish the original claim of God to a perfect obedience and service, by plead-

276 SINFULIN^ESS OF ORIGINAL SIN.

ing the full of man, the corruption of human nature, the strength of sinful inclination and affections, and the power of earthly temptation. All these are man's work, and not that of the Creator. This helplessness and bondage grows directly out of the nature of sin. " Whosoever committeth sin is the slave of sin. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves slaves to obey, his slaves ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness ? " (John viii. 3-4 ; Rom. tI. 16).

In view of the subject as thus discussed, we in- vite attention to some practical conclusions that flow directly out of it. For, though we have been speak- ing upon one of the most difficult themes in Chris- tian theology, namely man's creation in holiness and his loss of holiness by the apostasy in Adam, yet we have at the same time been speaking of one of the most humbling, and practically profitable, doctrines in the whole circle of revealed truth. AVe never shall arrive at any profound sense of sin, unless we know and feel our guilt and. corruption by nature ; and we shall never arrive at any pro- found sense of our guilt and corru})tion by nature, unless we know and imderstand the ori^-inal risrht- eousness and innocence in wliich we were first created. "We can measure the great depth of the abyss into which we have fallen, only by look- ing up to those great heights in the garden of Eden, upon which our nature once stood beautiful

SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. 277

and glorious, the very image and likeness of oui Creator.

1. We remark then, in the first place, that it is the duty of every man to liumMe liimself on account of his laclc of original rigliteouBness^ and to veiJeni of it as sin before God.

One of the articles of the Presbyterian Confession of Faith reads thus : " Every sin, both oi'iginal and actual, beino; a transsfression of the risfhteous law of God, and contrary thereunto, doth, in its own nature, bring guilt upon the sinner, whereby he is bound over to the wrath of God, and curse of the law, and so made subject to death, with all miseries spiritual, temporal, and eternal." ^ The Creed which we accept summons us to repent of original as well as actual sin ; and it defines original sin to be " the want of original righteousness, together witli the corruption of the whole nature." The ^vant of origi- nal righteousn-ess, then, is a ground of condemr.ation. and therefore a reason for shame, and godly soitoiv. It is something; which man once had, ouo-ht still to have, but now lacks ; and therefore is ill-deserv- ing, for the very same reason that the young ruler's lack of supreme love to God was ill-deserving.

If we acknowledge the validity of the distinction between a sin of omission and a sin of commission, and concede that each alike is culpable,*^ we shall

' Confession of Faith, VI. vi. 'One of the points of differ- position of each was taken, ence between the Protestant and related to the guilt of original the Papist, when the dogmatic sin, — the former a'llriniiig, and 18

278 SIJSTFULNESS OF OEIGINAL SiiS'.

find no difficulty witli tliis demand of the Creed. Why sliould not you and I mourn over the total want of the image of God in our hearts, as much as over any other form and species of sin ? This image of God consists in holy reverence. When we look into our hearts, and find no holy reverence there, oug-ht we not to be filled with shame and sorrow ? This image of God consists in filial and supreme affection for God, such as the young ruler lacked ; and when we look into our hearts, and find not a particle of supreme love to God in them, ought we not to repent of this original, this deep-seated, this innate depravity ? This image of God, again, which was lost in our apostasy, consisted in hum- ble constant trust in God ; and when we search our souls, and perceive that there is nothing of this spirit in them, but on the contrary a strong and OTermastering disposition to trust in ourselves, and to distrust our Maker, ought not this discovery to waken in us the very same feeling that Isaiah gave expression to, when he said that the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is faint ; the very same feeling that David gave expression to, when he cried : " Behold I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me ? "

This is to repent of original sin, and there is no mystery or absurdity al)Out it. It is to turn the eye inward, and see what is lacking in our heait

the latter denying. It is also one tween Calvinism and Anninian- oi tlie points of ditYcrcnce be- ism.

SIISTFULNESS OF OKIGESTAL Sm. 273

and aft'ections ; aud not merely what of outward and actual transgressions we have comraitted- Those whose idea of moral excellence is like that of the young ruler ; those who suppose holiness to consist merely in the outward observance of the commandments of the second table; those who do not look into the depths of their nature, and contrast the total corruption that is there, with the perfect and positive righteousness that ought to be there, and that was there by creation, — all such will find the call of the Creed to repent of original sin as well as of actual, a perplexity and an impossibility. But every man who knows that the substance of piety consists in positive and holy aifections, — in holy rev^erence, love and trust, — and who discovers that these are wanting in him by nature, though belonging to him by creation, will mourn in deep contrition and self-abasement over that act of apostasy by which this great change in human character, this great lack was brought about. 2. In the second place, it follows from the sub- ject we have discussed, that every man must, by some method, recover his original rigliteousness^ or he iniined forever. *' Without holiness no man shall see the Lord." No rational creature is fit to appear in the presence of his Maker, unless he is as pure and perfect as he was originally made. Holy Adam was prepared by his creation in the image of God, to hold blessed communion with God, and if he and his postei'ity had never lost this image,

280 SINFULNESS OF OKICilXAL SIN. .

they would forever be in fellowship with their Cre- ator and Sovereign. Holiness, and holiness alone, enables the creature to stand with angelic tranquil- lity, in the presence of Him before whom the heavens and the earth flee away. The loss of original righteousness, therefore, was the loss of the wedding garment; it was the loss of the only robe in which the creature could appear at the banquet of God. Suppose that one of the posterity of sin- ful Adam, destitute of holy love reverence and faith, lacking positive and perfect righteousness, should be introduced into the seventh heavens, and there behold the infinite Jehovah. Would he not feel, with a misery and a shame that could not be expressed, that he was naked ? that he was utterly unfit to appear in such a Presence ? No wonder that our first parents, after their apostasy, felt that they were imclothed. They were indeed stripped of their character, and had not a rag of righteous- ness to cover them. No wonder that they hid them- selves from the intolerable purity and brightness of the Most High. Previously, they had felt no such emotion. They were '' not ashamed," we are told. And the reason lay in the fact that, before their apostasy, they were precisely as the}'- were made. They were endowed with the image of God ; and their original rigliteousness and perfect lioliness qualified them to stand before their Maker, and to hold blessed intercourse M-ith Him. But the instant they lost their created endowment of

SmFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN. 281

Loliness, tliey were conscious that they lacked that indispensable something wherewith to appear be- fore God.

And precisely so is it, with their posterity. Whatever a man's theory of the future life may be, he must be insane, if he supposes that he is fit to apj)ear before God, and to enter the society of heaven, if destitute of holiness, and wanting the Divine image. When the spirit of man returns to God who gave it, it must return as good as it came from His hands, or it will be banished from the Divine presence. Every human soul, when it goes back to its Maker, must 'carry with it a righteous- ness, to say the very least, equal to that in which it was originally created, or it will be cast out as an unprofitable and wicked servant. All tbe tal- ents entrusted must be returned ; and returned with usury. A modern philosopher and poet repre- sents the suicide as justifying the taking of his own life, upon the ground that he was not asked in the beffinniuo;, whether he wanted life. He had no choice whether he would come into existence or not ; existence was forced upon him ; and therefore he had a right to put an end to it, if he so pleased. To this, the reply is made, that he ought to return his powers and faculties to the Creator in as good condition as lie received them ; that he had no right to mutilate and spoil them by abuse, and then fling the miserable relics of what was originally a noble creation, in the face of tke Creator. In ans^ver to

282 SINFULNESS OF ORIGINAL SIN.

the suicide's proposition to give back his spirit to God who gave it, the poet represents God as say- ing to him :

'■ la't returned as 'twas sent ? Is't no worse for the wear? Think first what you are ! Call to mind what you were I I gave you innocence, I gave you hope, Gave health, and genius, and an ample scope. Eeturn you me guilt, lethargy, despair? Make out the invent'ry ; inspect, compare ! Then die, — if die you dare!" '

Yes, this is true and solemn reasoning. You and I, and every man, must by some method, or other, go back to God as good as we came forth from Him. We must res-ain our orio-inal risfht- eousness ; we must be reinstated in our primal rela- tion to God, and our created condition ; or there is nothing in store for us, Imt the blackness of dark- ness. We certainly cannot stand in the judgment clothed with original sin, instead of original right- eousness ; full of carnal and selfish affections, in- stead of pure and heavenly affections. This great lack, this great vacuum, in our character, must by some method be filled up with solid and everlast- ing excellencies, or the same finger that wrote, in letters of fire, upon the wall of the Babylonian monarch, the awful legend : " Thou art weighed in the balance, and art found wanting," will write it in letters of fire upon our own rational spirit.

There is but one method, by which man's original

• Oolekidge; Works, VII. 295.

SINFULNESS OF OEIGKvTAL SIN. 283

righteousness and inuocency can be regained ; and this method you well know. The blood of Jesus Christ sprinkled by the Holy Ghost, upon your guilty conscience, reinstates you in innocency. When that is applied, there is no more guilt upon you, than there was upon Adam the instant he came from the creative hand. " There is no con- demnation to them that are in Christ Jesus." Who is he that condemneth, when it is Christ that died, and God that justifies ? And when the same Holy Spirit enters your soul with renewing power, and carries forward His work of sanctilication to its final completion, your original righteousness returns again, and you are again clothed in that spotless robe with which your nature was invested, on that sixth day of creation, when the Lord God said, "Let us make man in our image, and after our likeness." Ponder these truths, and what is yet more imperative, act upon them. Remember that you must, by some method, become a perfect crea- ture, in order to become a blessed creature in heaven. Without holiness you cannot see the Lord. You must recover the character which you have lost, and the peace with God in which you were created. Your spirit, when it returns to God, must by some method be made equal to what it was when it came forth from Him. And tliere is no method, but the method of i-edemption by the blood and righteousness of Christ. Men are iunnino: to and fro after other methods. The

28i SESTULNESS OF ORIGIKAL SIN.

memories of a golden age, a better humanity than they now know of, haunt them ; and- they sigh for the elysium that is gone. One sends you to let- ters, and culture, for your redemption. Another tells you that morality, or philosophy, will lift you again to those paradisaical heights that tower high above your straining vision. But miserable comforters are they all. No golden age returns ; no peace with God or self is the result of such instrumentality. The conscience is still perturbed, the forebodings still overhang the soul like a black cloud, and the heart is as throbbing and restless as ever. With resoluteness, then, turn away from these inadequate, these feeble methods, and adopt the method of God Almighty. Turn away ^vith contempt from human culture, and finite forces, as the instrumentality for the redemption of the soul which is precious, and which ceaseth forever if it is unredeemed. Go with confidence, and courage, and a rational faith, to God Almighty, to God the Redeemer. He hath power. He is no feeble and finite creature. He waves a mighty weapon, and sweats great drops of blood ; travelling in the greatness of His strength. Hear His words of calm confidence and power: "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."

THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS IS NOT THE LOYE OP IT

Romans ii. 21-23. — "Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not thyself ? thou that preachest a man should not steal, dost thou steal ? thou that sayest a man should not commit adultery, dost thou commit adultery ? thou that abhorrest idols, dost thou commit sacrilege ? thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking the law dishonorest thou God ? "

The apostle Paul is a very keen and cogent rea- soner. Like a powerful logician who is confident that he has the truth upon his side, and like a pure- minded man who has no sinister ends to gain, he often takes his stand upon the same ground with. his opponent, adopts his positions, and condemns him out of his own mouth. In the passage from which the text is taken, he brings the Jew in guilty before God, by employing the Jew's own claims and statements. "Behold thou art called a Jew, andrestest in the law, and makest thy boast of God, and knovvest his will, and approvest the things that are more excellent, and art confident that thou thyself art a guide of the blind, a light of them which are in darkness, an instructor of the foolish. Thou therefore which teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest that a man should

13*

286 TUE APPROBATION OP GOODNESS

not steal, clost tbou steal ? thou tLat makest thy boast of the law, throuoh breaking: the law clishon- orest thou God ? " As if he had said : " You claim to be one of God's chosen peoj^jle, to possess a true knowledge of Him and His law; why do you not act up to this knowledge ? why do you not by your character and conduct prove the claim to be a valid one V

The apostle had already employed this same spe- cies of argument against the Gentile world. In the first chapter of this Epistle to the Romans, St. Paul demonstrates that the pagan world is justly con- demned by God, because, they too, like the Jew, knew more than they practised. He affirms that the Greek and Koman world, like the Jewish people, " when they knew God, glorified him not as God, neither were thankful ; " that as " they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind ; " and that " knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things" as he had just enumerated in that awful catalogue of pagan vices " are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them." The apostle does not for an instant con- cede, that the Gentile can put in the plea that he was so entirely ignorant of the character and law of God, that he ought to be excused from the obligation to love and obey Him. He expressly affirms that where there is absolutely no law, and no knowledge of law, there can be no transgression ;

IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 28 7

and yet aiSrins that in the day of judgment every mouth must be stopped, and the whole world must plead guilty before God. It is indeed true, that he teaches that there is a difference in the degrees of knowledge which the Jew and the Gentile re- spectively possess. The light of revealed religion, in respect to man's duty and obligations, is far clearer than the light of nature, and increases the responsibilities of those who enjoy it, and the con- demnation of those who abuse it ; but the light of nature is clear and true as far as it goes, and is enough to condemn every soul outside of the pale of Revelation. For, in the day of judgment, there will not be a single human creature who can look his Judge in the eye, and say : " I acted up to every particle of moral light that I enjoyed ; I never thought a thought, felt a feeling, or did a deed, for which my conscience reproached me."

It follows from this, that the language of the apostle, in the text, may be applied to every man. The argument that has force for the Jew has force for the Gentile. " Thou that teachest another, teachest thou not thyself? thou that preachest that a man should not steal, dost thou steal ? " You who know the character and claims of God, and are able to state them to another, why do you not revere and obey them in your own person ? You who ap- prove of the law of God as pure and perfect, why do you not conform your own heart and conduct to it ? You who perceive the excellence of piety in another,

288 THE APPEOBATION OF G00DNES3

you who praise and admire moral excellence in your fellow-man, why do you not seek after it, and toil after it in your own heart ? In paying this tribute of approbation to the character of a God whom you do not yourself love and serve, and to a piety in your neighbor which you do not yourself possess and cultivate, are you not writing down your own condemnation ? How can you stand be- fore the judgment-seat of God, after having in this manner confessed through your whole life upon earth that God is good, and. His law is peVfect, and yet through that whole life have gone counter to your own confession, neither loving that God, nor obeying that law ? " To him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin.*" (Jaraes iv. 17.)

The text then, together with the chains of rea- soning that are connected with it, leads us to con- sider the fact, that a man may admire and praise moral excellence without possessing or practising it himself; that tlie approbation of goodness is not the same as the love of it}

I. This is proved, in the first place, from the tes- timoiiy of both God and man. The assertions and reasonings of the apostle Paul have already been alluded to, and there are many other passages of Scripture which plainly imply that men may ad-

' See, upon this wliole subject the profound and discriniinating

of conscience as distinguished views of Edwards: The Nnture

from will, and of nn\iahle instincts of Virtue, Chapters v. vi. vii. Rs distinguished from holiness,

IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 289

mire and approve of a virtue whicli tliey do not practise. Indeed, the language of our Lord re- specting the Scribes and Pharisees, may be applied to disobedient mankind at large : " Whatsoever they bid you observe, that observe and do ; but do ye not after their works : for they say, and do not." (Matt, xxiii. 3.) The testimony of man is equally explicit. That is a very remarkal^le witness which the poet Ovid bears to this truth. " I see the right,^' — he says, — " and approve of it, but I follow and practise the wrong." This is the testimony of a pi'ofligate man of pleasure, in whom the light of na- ture had been greatly dimmed in the darkness of sin and lust. But he had not succeeded in annihi- lating his conscience, and hence, in a sober hour, he left upon record his own damnation. He expressly informed the whole cultivated classical world, who were to read his polished numbers, that he that had taught others had not taught himself; that he who had said that a man should not commit adul- tery had himself committed adultery ; that an edu- cated Roman who never saw the volume of inspira- tion, and never heard of either Moses or Christ, nevertheless apj^roved of and praised a virtue that he never put in practice. And whoever will turn to the pages of Horace, a kindred spirit to Ovid both in respect to a most exquisite taste and a most refined earthliness, will frequently find the same confession breaking out. Nay, open the volumes of Kousseau, and even of Voltaire, and read their

290 THE APPEOBATION OF GOODNESS

panegyrics of virtue, their eulogies of goodness. What are these, but testimonies that they, too, saw the right and did the wrong. It is true, that the eulogy is merely sentimentalism, and is very differ- ent from the sincere and noble tribute which a good man renders to goodness. Still, it is valid testimony to the truth that the mere approbation of goodness is not the love of it. It is true, that these panegyrics of virtue, when read in the light of Rousseau's sensuality and Voltaire's malignity, wear a dead and livid hue, like objects seen in the illumination from phosphorus or rotten wood ; yet, nevertheless, they are visible and readable, and tes- tify as distinctly as if they issued from elevated and noble natures, that the teachings of man's con- science are not obeyed by man's heart, — that a man may praise and admire virtue, while he loves and practises vice.

II. A second proof that the approbation of good- ness is not the love of it is found in the fact, that it is impossihle not to ajypi'ove of goodness^ while it is possible not to love it. The structure of man's con- science is such, that he can commend only the right; but the nature of his will is such, that he may be conformed to the ri2:ht or the wronsr. The con- science can give only one judgment ; but the heart and will are capable of two kinds of affection, and two courses of action. Every rational creature is shut up, l)y his moral sense, to but one moral con- viction. He must approve the right and condemn

IS NOT THE LOVE OE IT. 291

the wrong. He cauiiot approve tlie wrong and con- demn tlie right ; any more than lie can perceive that two and two make five. The human conscience is a rigid and stationary faculty. Its voice may be stifled or drowned for a time ; but it can never be made to utter two discordant voices. It is for this reason, that the ajiprobation of goodness is necessa- ry and universal. Wicked men and wicked angels must testify that benevolence is right, and malevo- lence is wrong ; though they hate the former, and love the latter.

But it is not so with the human will. This is not a rigid and stationary faculty. It is capable of turning this way, and that way. It was created holy, and it turned from holiness to sin, in Adam's apostasy. And now, under the operation of the Divine Spirit, it turns back again, it converts from sin to holiness. The will of man is thus capable of two courses of action, while his conscience is caj)a- ble of only one judgment ; and hence he can see and approve the right, yet love and practise the wrong. If a man's conscience changed along with his heart and his will, so that when he began to love and practise sin, he at the same time began to approve of sin, the case would be difterent. If, when Adam apostatised from God, his conscience at that moment began to take sides with his sin, in- stead of condemning it, then, indeed, neither Ovid, nor Horace, nor Rousseau, nor any other one of Adam's posterity, would have been able to say : " I

292 THE APPEOBATION OF GOODNESS

see the right and approve of it, while I follow tire wrong.'" But it was not so. After apostasy, the conscience of Adam passed the same judgment upon sin that it did before. Adam heard its terrible voice speaking in concert with the voice of God, and hid himself. He never succeeded in bringing his conscience over to the side of his heart and will, and neither has any one of his posterity. It is im- possible to do this. Satan himself, after millen- niums of sin, still finds that his conscience, that the accusing and condemning law written on the heart, is too strong for him to alter, too rigid for him to bend. The utmost that either he, or any creature, can do, is to drown its verdict for a time in other sounds, only to hear the thunder-tones again, wax- ing longer and louder like the trumpet of Sinai.

Having thus briefly shown that the approbation of goodness is not the lov^e of it, we proceed to draw some conclusions from the truth.

1. In the first place, it follows from this subject, that tlie mere ivorhings of conscience are no proof of holiness. When, after the commission of a wrono; act, the soul of a man is filled with self- rej)roach, he must not take it for granted that this is the stirring of a better natuie within him, and is indicative of some remains of original righteous- ness. This reaction of conscience against his diso- bedience of law is as necessary, and unavoiilable, as the action of his eyelids under the blaze of noon, and is worthy neither of praise nor blame, so far

IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 293

as lie is concerned. It does not imply any love for holiness, or any hatred of sin. Nay, it may exist without any sorrow for sin, as in the instance of the hardened transo-ressor who writhes under its awful power, but never sheds a penitential tear, or sends up a sigh for mercy. The distinction between the Imman conscience, and the human heart, is as wide as between the human intellect, and the human heart. ^ We never think of confounding the func- tions and operations of the understanding with those of the heart. We know that an idea or a conception, is totally different from an emotion, or a feeling. How often do we remark, that a man may have an intellectual perception, without any correspondent experience or feeling in his heart. How continually does the preacher urge his hearers to bring their hearts into harmony with their under- standings, so that their intellectual orthodoxy may become their practical piety.

Now, all this is true of the distinction between the conscience and the heart. The conscience is an intellectual faculty, and by that better elder phi- losophy which comprehended all the powers of the soul under the two general divisions of understand- ing and will, would be placed in the domain of the understanding. Conscience is a Uglit., as we so often call it. It is not a life ; it is not a source of life. No man's heart and will can be renewed or

' Coinpai-f, on this distinc- and Essays, p. 284 sq. tioii, llie Authoe'9 Discourses

294 THE APPROBATIOK OF GOODJ^ESS

changed by his conscience. Conscience is sinaply a law. Conscience is merely legislativ^e ; it is never executive. It simply says to the heart and will: " Do thus, feel thus," but it gives no assistance, and imparts no inclination to obey its owu command.

Those, therefore, commit a grave error both in philosophy and religion, who confound the con- science with the heart, and suppose that because there is in every man self-reproach and remorse after the commission of sin, therefore there is the germ of holiness within him. Holiness is love, the positive affection of the heart. It is a matter of the heart and the will. But this remorse is purely an affair of the conscience, and the heart has no connection with it. Nay, it appears in its most intense form, in those beino:s whose feelino^s emotions and determinations are in utmost opposi- tion to God and goodness. Tlie purest remorse in the universe is to be found in those wretched beins-s whose emotional and active powers, whose heart and will, are in the most bitter hostility to truth and righteousness. How, then, can the mere re- proaches and remorse of conscience be regarded as evidence of piety ?

2. But, we may go a step furtlier than this, though in the same general direction, and remark, in the second place, that elevated moral sentiments are no certain proof of piety toward God and man. These, too, like remorse of conscience, spring out of the intellectual structure, and may exist without

IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 295

any affectionate love of God in the heart. There is a species of nobleness and beauty in moral ex- cellence that makes an involuntary and unavoidable impression. When the Christian martyr seals his devotion to God and truth with his blood ; when a meek and lowly disciple of Christ clothes his life of poverty, and self-denial, with a daily beauty greater than that of the lilies or of Solomon's array ; when the poor widow with feeble and trembling steps comes up to the treasury of the Lord, and casts in all her living ; when any pure and spiritual act is performed out of solemn and holy love of God and man, it is impossible not to be filled with sentiments of admiration, and often- times with an enthusiastic glow of soul. We see this in the impression which the character of Christ universally makes. There are multitudes of men, to whom that wonderful sinless life shines aloft like a star. But they do not imitate it. They admire it, but they do not love it.^ The spiritual purity and perfection of the Son of God rays out a beauty which really attracts their cultivated minds, and their refined taste ; but when He says to them : " Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of heart ; take up thy cross daily and follow me ; " they turn away sorrowful, like the rich young man in the Gospel, — sorrowful, because their sentiments like his are elevated, and

' The reader will recall Christ by Rousseau. tho celebrated panegyric upou

296 THE APPEOBATION OF GOODNESS

they have a certain awe of eternal things, and know that religion is the highest concern ; and sor- rowful, because their hearts and wills are still earthly, there is no divine love in their souls, self is still their centre, and the seli-renunciation that is required of them is repulsive. Religion is sub- mission,— absolute submission to God, — and no amount of mere admiration of religion can be a substitute for it.

As a thoughtful observer looks abroad over society, he sees a very intei'esting class who are not far from the kingdom of God ; who, neverthe- less, are not within that kingdom, and who, there- fore, if they remain where they are, are as certainly lost as if they were at an infinite distance from the kingdom. The homely proverb applies to them : " A miss is as good as a mile." They are those who suppose that elevated moral sentiments, an aesthetic pleasure in noble acts or noble truths, a glow and enthusiasm of the soul at the sight or the recital of examples of Christian virtue and Christian grace, a disgust at the gross and repul- sive forms and aspects of sin, — that such merely intellectual and aesthetic experiences as these are piety itself. All these may be in the soul, without any godly sorrow over sin, any cordial trust in Christ's blood, any self abasement before God, any daily conflict ^vith indwelling corruption, any daily cross-bearing and toil for Christ's dear sake. These latter, constitute the essence of the Christian

IS JS^OT THE LOVE OF IT. 297

experience, and without tliem tliat whole range of elevated sentiments and amiable qualities, to which we have alluded, only ministers to the con- demnation instead of the salvation of the soul. For, the question of the text comes home with solemn force, to all such j^ersons. " Thou that makest thy boast of the law, through breaking of the law, dishonorest thou God ? " If the beauty of virtue, and the grandeur of truth, and the sub- limity of invisible things, have been able to make such an impression upon your intellects, and your tastes, — upon that pai-t of your constitution which is iixed and stationary, which responds organically to such objects, and which is not the seat of moral character, — then why is there not a correspondinf>- influence and impression made by them upon your heart? If you can admire and pi-aise them in this style, why do you not love them ? Why is it, that when the character of Christ bows your intellect, it does not bend your will, and sway your affections ? Must there not be an inveterate opposition and resistance in the heart? in the heart which can refuse submission to such high claims, when so distinctly seen ? in the heart wliich can refuse to take the yoke, and learn of a Teacher who has already made such an impression upon the conscience and the understanding ?

The human heart is, as the prophet affirms, des- perateJij wicked, desperately selfish. And perhaps its self-love is never more plainly seen, than in

298 THE APPROBATION OF GOOD^N'ESS

such instances as those of tliat moral and culti- vated young man mentioned in the Gospel, and that class in modern society who correspond to him. Nowhere is the difference between the ap- probation of goodness, and the love of it, more apparent. In these instances the apj)robation is -of a high order. It is refined and sublimated by cul- ture and taste. It is not stained by the tempta- tions of low life, and gross sin. If there ever could be a case, in which the intellectual approbation of goodness would develop and pass over into the affectionate and hearty love of it, we should expect to find it here. But it is not found. The young man goes away, — sorrowful indeed, — but he goes away from the Redeemer of the world, never to return. The amiable, the educated, the refined, pass on fi'om year to year, and, so far as the evangelic sorrow, and the evangelic faith are con- cerned, like the dying Beaufort depart to judg- ment making no sign. We hear their praises of Christian men, and Christian graces, and Christian actions ; we enjoy the grand and swelling senti- ments with which, perhaps, they enrich the com- mon literature of the world ; but we never hear them cry : " God be merciful to me a sinner ; O Lamb of God, that takest away the sin of the world, grant me thy peace ; Thou, O God, art the strength of my heart, and my portion forever."

3. In the third place, it follows from this sub- ject, that in order to holiness in man there must

IS NOT THE LOVE OF IT. 290

be a change in his lieart and will. If our analysis is correct, no possible modification of either his con- science, or his intellect, would produce holiness. Holiness is an affection of the heart, and an inclina- tion of the will. It is the love and practice of goodness, and not the mere approbation and admi- ration of it. Now, supj)ose that the conscience should be stimulated to the utmost, and remorse should be produced until it filled the soul to over- flowing, would there be in this any of that gentle and blessed affection for God and goodness, that heartfelt love of them, which is the essence of reli- gion ? Or, suppose that the intellect merely were impressed by the truth, and very clear perceptions of the Christian system and of the character and claims of its Author were imparted, would the result be any different? If the lieart and idUI were unaffected ; if the influences and impressions were limited merely to the conscience and the understanding; would not the seat of the diffi- culty still be untouched ? The command is not : " Give me thy conscience," but, " Give me thy lieartP

Hence, that regeneration of which our Lord speaks in his discourse with Nicodemus is not a radical change of the conscience, but of the lolll and affections. We have already seen that the con- science cannot undergo a radical change. It can never l^e made to approve what it once condemned, and to condemn what it once approved. It is the

300 THE ArPROBATIOX OF GOODNESS

stationary legislative faculty, and is, of necessity, always upon the side of law and of God. Hence, the apostle Paul sought to commend the truth which he preached, to every man's conscience, know- ing that every man's conscience was with him. The conscience, therefore, does not need to be converted, that is to say, made opposite to what it is. It is indeed greatly stimulated, and rendered vastly more energetic, by the regeneration of the heart ; but this is not radically to alter it. This is to develop and educate the conscience ; and when holiness is implanted in the will and affections, l)y the grace of the Spirit, we find that both the conscience and understanding are wonderfully unfolded and strengthened. But they undergo no revolution or conversion. The judgments of the .conscience are the same after regeneration, that they were before; only more positive and emphatic. Tlie convictions of the understand- ing continue, as before, to be upon the side of truth ; only they are more- clear and powerful.

The radical change, therefore, must be Avrought in the heart and will. These are capable of revo- lutions and radical changes. They can apostatise in Adam, and ])e regenerated in Christ. Tliey are not immovably fixed and settled, by their constitu- tional structure, in only one way. They have once turned from holiness to sin ; and now they must be turned l)ack again from sin to holiness. They must become exactly contrary to what they now

IS NOT THE LOVE OE IT. 301

are. The heart must love what it now hates, and must hate wliat it now loves. The will must incline to what it now disinclines, and disincline to Avhat it now inclines. But this is a radical change, a total change, an entire revolution. If any man be in Christ Jesus, he is a new creature, in his will and affections, in his inclination and disposition. While, therefore, the conscience must continue to give the same old everlasting testimon}^ as before, and never reverse its judgments in the least, the af- fections and will, the pliant, elastic, plastic part of man, the seat of vitality, of emotion, the seat of char- acter, the fountain out of which proceed the evil' thoughts or the good thoughts, — this executive, emotive, responsible part of man, must be reversed, converted, radically changed into its own contrary. So long, therefore, as this change remains to be effected in an individual, there is and can be no holiness withm him, — none of tliat holiness without which no man can see the Lord. There may l^e within him a very active and reproaching con- science ; there may he intellectual orthodoxy and correctness in religious convictions ; he may cherisli elevated moral" sentiments, and many attractive qualities springing out of a cultivated taste and a jealous self-respect may appear in his character; but unless he loves God and man out of a pure heart fervently, and unless his will is entirely and sweetly submissive to the Divine will, so that he can say : " Father not my will, but thine be done,"

14

302 THE APPROBATION OF G00D:>TES3

he is still a natural man. He is still destitute of tlie sj)iritual mind, and to liim it must be said as it was to Nicodemus : " Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." The most important side of his being is still alienated from God. The heart with its aifections ; the will with its immense energies, — the entire active and emotive portions of his nature, — are still earthly, unsubmissive, selfish, and sinful.

4. In the fourth, and last place, we see from this subject tlie necessity of the operation of the Holy Spirit^ in order to holiness in man.

There is no part of man's complex being which is less under his own control, than his own will, and his own aifections. This he discovers, as soon as he attempts to cowvert them ; as soon as he tries to produce a radical change in them. Let a man whose will, from centre to circumference, is set upon self and the world, attempt to reverse it, and set it with the same strength and energy upon God and heaven, and he will know that his will is too strong for him, and that he cannot overcome himself. Let a man whose affections cleave like those of Dives to earthly good, and find their sole enjoyment in earthly pleasures, attempt to change them into their own contraries, so that they shall cleave to God, and take a real delight in heavenly things, — let a carnal man try to revolutionize himself into a spir- itual man, — and he will discover that the affections an I feelings of his heai't are beyond his control.

IS I^OT THE LOVE OF IT. 303

And the reason of this is plain. The affections and will of a man show what he loves^ and what he is inclined to. A sinful man cannot, therefore, overcome his sinful love and inclination, because he cannot mcike a heginnlng. The instant he attempts to love God, he finds his love of him- self in the way. This new love for a new object, which he proposes to originate within himself, is prevented by an old love, which already has possession. This new inclination to heaven and Divine things is precluded by an old inclination, very strong and very set, to earth and earthly things. There is therefore no stai'tinfj'point^ in this affair of self-conversion. He proposes, and he tries, to think a holy thought, but there is a sinful thought already in the mind. He attempts to start out a Christian grace, — say the grace of humility, — but the feeling of pride already stands in the way, and, what is more, remains in the way. He tries to generate that supreme love of God, of which he has heard so much, but the supreme love of himself is ahead of him, and occupies the whole ground. In short, he is baffled at every point in this attempt radically to change his own heart and will, because at every point this heart and will are already committed and determined. Go down as low as he pleases, he finds sin, — love of sin, and inclination to sin. He never reaches a point where these cease ; and therefore never reaches a point where he can begin a new love, and a new inclination. The late Mr.

304 THE APPKOBATION OF G00DJfE6S

Webster was once eno-ao-ed in a law case, in which he had to meet, upon the opposing side, the subtle and strong understanding of Jeremiah Mason. In one of his conferences with his associate counsel, a difficult point to be managed came to view. After some discussion, without satisfactory results, respect- ing the best method of handling the difficulty, one of his associates suggested that the point might after all, escape the notice of the opposing counsel. To this, Mr. Webster replied : " Not so ; go down as deej:) as you will, you will find Jeremiah Mason below you." Precisely so in the case of which we are speaking. Go down as low as you please into your heart and will, you will find your self belov/ you ; you will find sin not only lying at the door, but lyiug in the way. If you move in the line of your feelings and affections, you will find earthly feelings and affections ever below you. If you move in the line of your choice and inclination, you will find a sinful choice and inclination ever below you. In chasing youi' sin tlirough the avenues of your fallen and corrupt soul, you are chasing your horizon ; in trying to get clear of it by your own isolated and independent strength, ^ow. are attempt- ing (to use the illustration of Goethe, who however employed it for a false purpose) to jump oft' your own shadow.

This, tlien, is the reason why the heart and will of a sinful man are so entirely beyond his own control. They are prtoccapied and predetennuitd^

IS ]SrOT THE LOVE OF IT. 305

aud tlierefore he cannot make a beginning in the direction of holiness. If he attempts to put forth a holy determination, he finds a sinful one already made and making, — and this determination is Jiis determination, unforced, responsible and guilty. If he tries to start out a holy emotion, he finds a sinful emotion already beating and rankling, — and this emotion is his emotion, unforced, responsible, and guilty. There is no physical necessity resting upon him. Nothing but this love of sin and incli- nation to self stands in the way of a supreme love of God and holiness ; but it stands in the tuay. Nothing but the sinful affection of the heart pre- vents a man from exercising a holy affection ; but it prevents him effeGtually. An evil tree cannot bring forth good fruit ; a sinful love and inclina- tion cannot convert itself into a holy love and in- clination ; Satan cannot cast out Satan.

There is need therefore of a Divine operation to renew, to radically change, the heart and will. If they cannot renew themselves, they must he re- newed ; and there is no power that can reach them but that mysterious energy of the Holy Spirit which like the wind bloweth where it listeth, and we hear the sound thereof, but cannot tell whence it cometh or whither it goeth. The condition of the human heart is utterly hopeless, were it not for the promised influences of the Holy Ghost to regenerate it.

There are many reflections suggested by this

306 THE APPROBATION OF GOODNESS

subject ; for it has a wide reach, and would carry us over vast theological spaces, should we attempt to exhaust it. We close with the single remark, that it should be man's first and great aim to obtain the new heart. Let him seek this first of all, and all thino^s else will be added unto him. It matters not how active your conscience ma}^ be, how clear and accurate your intellectual convic- tions of truth may be, how elevated may be your moral sentiments and your admiration of virtue, if you are destitute of an evangelical experience. Of what value will all these be in the day of judg- ment, if you have never sorrowed for sin, never appropriated the atonement for sin, and never been inwardly sanctified ? Our Lord says to every man : " Either make the tree good, and its fruit good ; or else make the tree corrupt, and its fruit corrupt." The tree itself must be made good. The heart and will themselves must be renewed. These are the root and stock into which everything else is graft- ed ; and so long as they remain in their apostate natural condition, the man is sinful and lost, do what else he may. It is indeed true, that sucli a change as this is beyond your power to accom- plish. With man it is impossible ; but with God it is a possibility, and a reality. It has actually been wrought in thousands of wills, as stubborn as yours ; in millions of hearts, as worldly and selfish as yours. AYe commend you, therefore, to the Person and Work of the Holy Spirit. We remind

IS I!ifOT THE LOVE OF IT. 30 7

you, that He is able to renovate and sweetly incline the obstinate will, to soften and spiritualize the flinty heart. He saith : " I will put a new spirit within you ; and I will take the stony heart out of your flesh, and will give you an heart of flesli ; that ye may walk in my statutes, and keep mine ordi- nances, and do them ; and ye shall be my people, and I will be your God." Do not listen to these declarations and promises of God supinely ; but arise and eavne^tly plead them. Take words upon your lips, and go before God. Say unto Him: "I am the clay, be tliott the potter. Behold thou de- sirest truth in the inward parts, and in the hidden parts thou shalt make me to know wisdom. I will run in the way of thy commandments, when thou shalt enlarge my heart. Create within me a clean heart, O God, and renew within me a right spirit." Seek for the new heart. Asl) for the new heart. Knock for the new heart. " For, if ye, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him." And in giving the Holy Spirit, He gives the new heart, with all that is included in it, and all that issues from it.

THE USE OP PEAR IN RELIGION

Proveubs ix. 10. — "The fear of the Lord is the begrinning of ■ivisdom." Luke xii. 4, 5. — "And 1 say unto you, my friends, Be not afraid of them that kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ,ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say unto you, Pear him."

The place which the feeling of fear ought to liolcl in the religious experience of mankind is variously assigned. Theories of religion are con- tinually passing from one extreme to another, according as they magnify or disparage this emo- tion. Some theological schools are distinguished for their severity, and others for their sentiment- alism. Some doctrinal systems fail to gi'asp the mercy of God with as much vigor and energy as they do the Divine justice, while others melt down everything that is scriptural and self-consistent, and flow along vaguely in an inundation of unprincipled emotions and sensibilities.

The same fact meets us in the experience of the individual. We either fear too much, or too little. Having ol)tained glimpses of the Divine compas- sion, how prone is the human heart to become indo- l(Mit and self-indulgent, and to relax something of

THE USE OF FEAE IN EELIGION". 309

that earnest effort with which it had begun to pluck out the offending right eye. Or, having felt the power of the Divine anger ; having obtained clear conceptions of the intense aversion of God towards moral evil; even the child of God sometimes lives under a cloud, because he does not dare to make a right use of this needed and salutary im- pression, and pass back to that confiding trust in the Divine pity which is his privilege and his birth-right, as one who has been sprinkled with atoning blood.

It is plain, from the texts of Scripture placed at the head of this discourse, that the feeling and principle of fear is a legitimate one.^ In these words of God himself, we are taught that it is the font and origin of true wisdom, and are commanded to be inspired by it. The Old Testament enjoins

' The moral and healtliful in- literature so purifying as tlie

fluence of fear is implied in the Greek Drama. And yet, the

celebrated passage in Aristotle's pleasurable emotions are rarely

Poetics, whatever be the inter- awakened by it. Righteousness

pretation. lie speaks of a p^ea?is- and justice determine the move-

ing (Kux^apaiv) of the mind, by ment of the plot, and conduct

means of the emotions of pity to the catastrophe ; and the per-

and terror (fofior') awakened by sons and forms that move across

tragic poetry. Most certainly, the stage are, not Venus and the

there is no portion of Classical Graces but,

" ghostly Shapes

To meet at noontide ; Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow."

All literature that tends up- purposes of poetry the fear it

ward contains the tragic element ; awakens. Lucretius and Voltaire

and all literature that tends would disprove the exir^tence of

downward rejects it. ^schylus such a solemn world, and tliey

and Dante assume a world of make no use of such an emo-

retribution, and employ for the tion. 14*

olO THE USE OF FEAE IN EELIGION.

it, and the New Testament repeats and emphasizes the injunction ; so that the total and united testi- mony of Revelation forbids a religion that is desti- tute of fear.

The New Dispensation is sometimes set in oppo- sition to the Old, and Christ is represented as teaching a less rigid morality than that of Moses and the prophets. But the mildness of Christ is not seen, certainly, in the ethical and precej)tive part of His religion. The Sermon on the Mount is a more searching code of morals than the ten commandments. It cuts into human depravity with a more keen and terrible edge, than does the law proclaimed amidst thunderings and light- nings. Let us see if it does not. The Mosaic statute simply says to man : " Thou shalt not kill." But the re-enactment of this statute, by incar- nate Deity, is accompanied with an explanation and an emphasis that precludes all misapprehen- sion and narrow construction of the original law, and renders it a two-edged sword that pierces to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit. When the Hebrew legislator says to me: "Thou shalt not kill," it is possible for me, with .my propensity to look upon the outward appearance, and to re- gard the external act alone, to deem myself inno- cent if I have never actually murdered a fellow- being. But when the Lord of glory tells me that " whosoever is angry with his brother " is in dan- ger of the judgment, my mouth is stopped, and it

THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 311

is impossible for me to cberisli a conviction of per- sonal innocency, in respect to the sixth command- ment. And the same is true of the seventh com mandment, and the eighth commandment, and of all the statutes in the decalogue. He who reads, and ])onders, the whole Sermon on the Mount, is painfully conscious that Christ has put a meaning into the Mosaic law that renders it a far more effec- tive instrument of mental torture, for the guilty, than it is as it stands in the Old Testament. The lightnings are concentrated. The bolts are hurled with a yet more sure and deadly aim. The new meaning is a perfectly legitimate and logical deduc- tion, and in this sense there is no difference be- tween the Decalogue and the Sermon, — between the ethics of the Old and the ethics of the New Testa- ment. But, so much more spiritual is the applica- tion, and so much more searching is the reach of the statute, in the last of the two forms of its state- ment, that it looks almost like a new proclamation of law.

Our Lord did not intend, or pretend, to teach a milder ethics, or an easier virtue, on the Mount of Beatitudes, than that which He had taught fifteen centuries before on Mt. Sinai. He indeed pronounces a blessing ; and so did Moses, His ser- vant, before Him. But in each instance, it is a blessing upon condition of obedience ; which, in both instances, involves a curse upon disobedience. He who is meek shall be blest ; but he who is not

?>12 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION.^

shall l)e condemned. He who is pure in heart, he Avho is poor in spirit, he who mourns over personal nnworthiuess, he who hungers and thirsts after a righteousness of which he is destitute, he who is merciful, he who is the peace-maker, he who en- dures persecution patiently, and he who loves his enemies, — he who is and does all this in a perfect manner, without a single slip or failure, is indeed blessed with the beatitude of God. But where is the man ? What single individual in all the ages, and in all the generations since Adain, is entitled to the great blessing of these beatitudes, and not deserving of the dreadful curse which they involve ? In applying such a high, ethereal test to human character, the Founder of Christianity is the severest and sternest preacher of law that has ever trod upon the planet. And he who stops with the merely ethical and preceptive part of Christianity, and rejects its forgiveness through atoning blood, and its regeneration by an indwelling Spirit, — he who does not unite the fifth, chapter of Matthew, with the fifth chapter of Romans, — converts the Lamb of God into the Lion of the tribe of Judah. He makes use of everything in the Christian sys- tem that condemns man to everlasting destruction, but throws away the very and the only part of it that takes off the burden and the curse.

It is not, then, a correct idea of Christ that we have, when we look upon Him as unmixed compla- cency and unbalanced compassion. In all aspects,

THE USE OF FEAE IN RELIGION. 313

He was a complex personage. He was God, and He was man. As God, He could pronounce a blessing; and He could pronounce a curse, as none but God can, or dare. As man, He was perfect ; and into His perfection of feeling and of character there entered those elements that fill a good being with peace, and an evil one with woe. The Son of God exhibits- goodness and severity mingled and blended in perfect and majestic harmony ; and that man lacks sympathy with Jesus Christ who cannot, while feeling the purest and most unselfish indig- nation towards the sinner's sin, at the same time give up his own individual life, if need be, for the sinner's soul. The two feelings are not only com- patible in the same person, but necessarily belong to a perfect being. Our Lord breathed out a prayer for His murderers so fervent, and so full of pathos, that it will continue to soften and melt the flinty human heart, to the end of time ; and He also poured out a denunciation of woes upon the Phari- sees (Matt, xxiii.), every syllable of which is dense enough with the wrath of God, to sink the deserv- ing objects of it " plumb down, ten thousand fath- oms deep, to bottomless perdition in adamantine chains and penal fire." The utterances, " Father forgive them, for they know not what they do : Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers ! how can ye es- cape the damnation of hell ? " both fell from the same pure and gracious lips.

It is not surprising, therefoi-e, that our Lord often

ol4 THE USE OF FEAR IN PtELIGION.

appeals to tlie principle of fear. He makes use of it iu all its various forms, — from that servile terror which is produced by the truth when the soul is just waked up from its drowze in sin, to that filial fear which Solomon affirms to be the beo-innins: of wisdom.

The subject thus brought before our minds, by the inspired Word, has a wide application to all ages and conditions of human life, and all varieties of human character. We desire to direct attention to the use and value of religious fear, in the opening periods of human life. There are some special rea- sons why youth and early manhood should come under the influence of this powerful feeling. "I write unto you young men," — says St. John, — " be- cause ye are strong^ We propose to urge upon the young, the duty of cultivating the fear of God's dis- pleasure, because they are able to endure the emo- tion ; because youth is the springtide and prime of human life, and capable of carrying burdens, and standing up under influences and impressions, that might crush a feebler period, or a more exhausted stage of the human soul.

I. In the first place, the emotion of fear ought to enter into the consciousness of the young, because youth is naturally liglit-liearted. " Childhood and youth," saith the Preacher, " are vanity." The opening period in human life is the happiest part of it, if we have respect merely to the condition and circumstances in which the human being is placed.

THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGIOJ^. B15

He is free from all public cares, and resiionsibilities. He is encircled within the strong arms of parents, and protectors. Even if he tries, he cannot feel the pressure of those toils and anxieties which will come of themselves, when he has passed the line that separates youth from manhood. When he hears his elders discourse of the weight, and the weariness, of this working-day world, it is with incredulity and surprise. The world is bright be- fore his eye, and he wonders that it should ever wear any other aspect. He cannot understand how the freshness, and vividness, and pomp of human life, should shift into its soberer and sterner forms ; and he will not, until the

"Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy." ^

Now there is something, in this happy attitude of things, to fill the heart of youth with gayety and abandonment. His pulses beat strong and high. The currents of his soul flow like the mountain river. His mood is buoyant and jubilant, and he flino-s himself with zest, and a sense of vitality, into the joy and exhilaration all around him. But such a mood as this, unbalanced and un tempered by a loftier one, is hazardous to the eternal interests of the soul. Perpetuate this gay festal abandonment of the mind ; let the human being, through the whole of his earthly course, be filled with the sole

' WoKDSWORTH ; Intimations of Immortality.

316 THE USE OF FEAR IN EELIGIOJS".

single consciousness that this is the beautiful world ; and will he, can he, live as a stranger and a pilgiiui in it? Perpetuate that vigorous pulse, and that youthful blood which '* runs tickling up and down the veins ; " drive off, and preclude, all that care and responsibility which renders human life so earnest ; and will the young inimoi'tal go thi-ough it, with that sacred fear and trembling with which he is commanded to work out his salvation ?

Yet, this buoyancy and light-heartedness are le- gitimate feelings. They spring up, like wild-flowers, from the very nature of man. God intends that prismatic hues and auroral lights shall flood our morning sky. He must be filled with a sour and rancid misanthropy, who cannot bless the Creator that thei'e is one part of man's sinful and cursed life which reminds of the time, and the state, when there was no sin and no curse. There is, then, to be no extermination of this legitimate experience. But there is to be its moderation and its regulation.

And this we get, by the introduction of the feel- ing and the principle of religious fear. The youth ought to seek an impression from things unseen and eternal. God, and His august attributes ; Christ, and His awful Passion ; heaven, with its sacred scenes and joys ; hell, with its just woe and wail, — all these should come in, to modify, and temper, the jubilance that without them becomes the riot of the soul. For this, we apprehend, is the meaning of our Lord, when He says, "I will fore-

THE USE OF FEAE IN KELIGTO?r. 317

warn you whom ye shall fear: Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say unto you, Fear him." It is not so much any particular species of fear that we are shut up to, by these words, as it is the general habit and feeling. The fear of hell is indeed specified, — and this proves that such a fear is rational and proper in its own place, — but our Lord would not have iis stop with this single and isolated form of the feel- ino". He recommends a solemn temper. He com- mands a being who stands continually upon the brink of eternity and immensity, to be aware of his position. He would have the great shadow of eter- nity thrown in upon time. He desires that every man should realize, in those very moments when the sun shines the brightest and the earth looks the fairest, that there is another world than this, for which man is not naturally prepared, and for which he must make a preparation. And what He enjoins upon mankind at large, He specially enjoins upon youth. They need to be sobered more than others. The ordinary cares of this life, which do so much towards moderating our desires and aspirations, have not yet pressed upon the ardent and expec- tant soul, and therefore it needs, more than others, to fear and to " stand in awe."

n. Secondly, youth is elastic j and readily recovers from nndue depression. The skeptical Lucretius tells us that the divinities are the creatures of man's fears, and would make us believe that all religion

318 THE USE OF FEAR m RELIGION.

lias its ground in fright.^ And do we not hear this theory repeated by the modern unljeliever ? What means this appeal to a universal, and an unprinci- pled good-nature in the Supreme Being, and this rejection of everything in Christianity that awakens misgivings and forebodings within the sinful human soul? Why this opposition to the doctrine of an absolute, and therefore endless punishment, unless it be that it awakens a deep and permanent dread in the heart of guilty man ?

Now, we are not of that number who believe that thoughtless and lethargic man has been greatly damaged by his moral fears. It is the kck of a bold and distinct impression from the solemn ob- jects of another world, and the utter absence of fear, that is ruining man from generation to gener- ation. If we were at liberty, and had the power, to induce into the thousands and millions of our race who are running the rounds of sin and vice, some one particular emotion that should be medici- nal and salutary to the soul, we M^ould select that very one which our Lord had in view when He said : " I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear : Fear him, which after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell ; yea, I say unto you. Fear him." If we were at liberty, and had the power, we would instan- taneously stop these human souls that are crowding our avenues, intent only upon pleasure and earth,

■ LuoBETiL's : De Reruiii Natura, III. 989 sq. ; V. 1160 sq.

THE USE OF FEAK LN RELIGION. oil)

and would fill them with the emotious of the day of doom ; we would deluge them with the fear of God, that they might flee from their sins and the wrath to come.

But while we say this, we also concede that it is possible for the human soul to be injured, by the undue exercise of this emotion. The bruised reed may be broken, and the smoking flax may be quench- ed ; and hence it is the very function and oflice- work of the Blessed Comforter, to prevent this. God's own children sometimes pass through a horror of great darkness, like that which enveloped Abraham ; and the unregenerate mind is sometimes so overborne by its fears of death, judgment, and eternity, that the entire experience becomes for a time morbid and confused. Yet, even in this in- stance, the excess is better than the lack. We had better travel this road to heaven, than none at all. It is better to enter into the kingdom of God with one eye, than having two eyes to be cast into hell- fire. When the saints from the heavenly heights look back upon their severe religious experience here on earth, — upon their footprints stained with their own blood, — they count it a small matter that they entered into eternal joy through much tribulation. And if we could but for one instant take their position, we should form their estimate ; we should not shrink, if God so pleased, from pass- ing through that martyrdom and crucifixion which has l)een undergone by so many of those gentle

320 THE USE OF FEAR IN EELIGIO]!T.

spirits, broken spirits, holy spirits, upon whom the burden of mystery once hiy like nigbt, and the far heavier burden of guilt lay like heU.

There is less danger, however, that the feeling and principle of fear should exert an excessive influence upon youth. There is an elasticity, in the earlier periods of liuman life, that prevents long- continued depression. How rare it is to see a young person smitten with insanity. It is not until the pressure of anxiety has been long contin- ued, and the impulsive spring of the soul has been destroyed, that reason is dethroned. The morninir of our life may, therefore, be subjected to a subdu- ing and repressing influence, with very great safety. It is well to bear the yoke in youth. The awe produced by a vivid impression from the eternal world may enter into the exuberant and gladsome experience of the young, with very little danger of actually extinguishing it, aiid rendering life perma- nently gloomy and unhappy.

III. Thirdly, youth is exposed to sudden tenipta- tionSy and surprisals into sin. The general traits that have been mentioned as belonging to the early period in luunan life render it peculiarly liable to solicitations. The whole being of a healthful hila- lious youth, who feels life in every limb, thrills to temptation, like the lyre to tlie plectrum. Body and soul are alive to all the enticements of the world of sense; and in certain critical moments, the entii'e sensorium, upon the approach of bctld and

THE USE OF FEAE IN EELIGION. 321

powerful excitements, flutters and trembles like an electrometer in a thunder-storm. All passionate poetry breathes of youth and spring. Most of the catastrophes of the novel and the drama turn upon the violent action of some temptation, upon the highly excitable nature of youth. All literature testifies to the hazards that attend the morning of our existence; and dail}^ experience and obser- vation, certainly, corroborate the testimony. It becomes necessary, therefore, to guard the human soul ao'ainst these liabilities which attend it in its forming period. And, next to a deep and all-absorb- ing love of God, there is nothing so well adapted to protect against sudden surprisals, as a profound and definite fear of Grod.

It is a great mistake, to suppose that apostate and corrupt beings like ourselves can pass through all the temjDtations of this life unscathed, while looking solely at the pleasant aspects of the Divine Beino^, and the winnino;' forms of religious truth. We are not yet seraphs; and we cannot always trust to our affectionateness, to carry us through a violent attack of temptation. There are moments in the expei'ience of the Christian himself, when he is compelled to call in the fear of God to his aid, and to steady his infirm and wavering virtue by the recollection that " the wao;es of sin is death." " By the fear of the Lord, men," — and Christian men too, — " depart from evil." It will not always be so. When that which is perfect is come, perfect love

21

322 THE USE OF FEAR IjV RELIGION.

shall cast out fear; but, until the disciple of Christ reaches heaven, his religious experience must be a somewhat complex one. A reasonable and well-defined apprehensiveness must mix with his affectionateness, and deter him from transgression, in those severe passages in his history when love is languid and foils to draw him. Says an old English divine: "The fear of God's judgments, or of the threatenings of God, is of much efficiency, w^hen some present temptation presseth upon ns. When conscience and the affections are divided ; when conscience doth withdraw a man from sin, and when his carnal affections draw him forth to it ; then should the fear of God come in. It is a holy design for a Christian, to counterbalance the pleasures of sin wnth the terrors of it, and thus to cure the poison of the viper by the flesh of the viper. Thus that admirable saint and martyr. Bishop Hooper, when he came to die, one en- deavored to dehort him from death by this : O sir, consider that life is sweet and death is bitter; presently he replied. Life to come is more sweet, and death to come is more bitter, and so went to the stake and patiently endured the fire. Thus, as a Christian may sometimes outweigh the pleas- ures of sin b}' the consideration of the reward of God, so, sometimes, he may quench the pleasures of sin by the consideration of the terrors of God." ^

' Bates : Disoonrse of the Fear of God.

THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 323

But mncli more is all this true, in tlie instance of the hot-blooded youth. How shall he resist temptation, unless he has some fear of God before his eyes ? There are moments in the experience of the young, when all power of resistance seems to be taken away, by the very witchery and blandish- ment of the object. He has no heart, and no nerve, to resist the beautiful siren. And it is precisely in these emergencies in his experience, — in these mo- ments when this world comes up before him clothed in pomp and gold, and the other world is so en- tirely lost sight of, that it throws in upon him none of its solemn shadows and warnings, — it is precisely now, when he is just upon the point of yielding to the mighty yet fascinating pressure, that he needs to feel an impression, bold and start- ling, from the wrath of God. Nothing but the most active remedies will have any effect, in this tumult and uproar of the soul. When the wdiole system is at fever-heat, and the voice of reason and conscience is drowned in the clamors of sense and earth, nothing can startle and stop but the trumpet of Sinai.^

It is in these severe experiences, which are more

' " Praise be to Thee, glory to back from a yet deeper gulf of

Thee, O Fountain of mercies: I carnal pleasures, but the fear of

was becoming more miserable and death^ and of Thy judgment to

Thou becoming nearer, Thy right come ; whicli, amid all my chan-

hand was continually ready to ges, never departed from my

pluck me out of the mire, and to breast." Augustine: Confes-

wash me thoroughly, and I knew sions, vi. 16., (Shedd's Ed., p.

it not; nor did anytliing call ine 142.)

324 THE USE OF FEAE IN RELIGION.

common to youth than they are to manhood, that we see the great value of the feeling and principle of fear. It is, comparatively, in vain for a youth under the influence of strong temjDtations, — and particularly when the surprise is sprung upon him, — to ply himself with arguments drawn from the beauty of virtue, and the excellence of piety. They are too ethereal for him, in his present mood. Such arguments are for a calmer moment, and a more dis- passionate hour. Plis blood is now boiling, and those higher motives which would influence the saint, and would have some influence with him, if he were not in this critical condition, have little power to deter him from sin. Let him therefore pass by the love of God, and betake himself to the anger of God, foi- safety. Let him say to himself, in this moment when the forces of Satan, in alli- ance with the propensities of his own nature, are making an onset, — when all other considerations are being swept away in the rush and Avhirl wind of his passions, — let him coolly bethink himself and say : " If I do this abominable thing which the soul of God hates, then God, the Holy and Immaculate, will burn my sj^otted soul in His i)ure eternal flame." For, there is great power, in what the Scrip- tures term " the terror of the Lord," to destroy the edge of temptation. " A wise man feareth and de- parteth from evil." Fear kills out the delight in sin. Damocles cannot eat the banquet with any pleas- ure, so long as the naked sword hangs by a single

THE USE OF FEAR IN IIELIGIOX. ;->2.')

hair over his head. No oue can find much eiijo)-- ment in transgression, if his conscience is feeling the action of God's holiness within it. And well would it be, if, in every instance in which a youth is tempted to fling himself into the current of sin that is flowing all around jbinn, his moral sense might at that very moment be filled with some of that ter- ror, and some of that horror, which breaks upon the damned in eternity. Well would it be, if the youth in the moment of violent temptation could lay upon the emotion or the lust that entices him, a distinct and red coal of hell-fire.^ No injury would result from the most terrible fear of God, provided it could always fall upon the human soul in those moments of strong temptation, and of surprisals, when all other motives fail to influence, and the hu- man will is carried headlong by the human passions. There may be a fear and a terror that does harm, but man need be under no concern lest he experience too much of this feeling, in his hours of weakness and irresolution, in his youthful days of temptation and of dalliance. Let him rather bless God that there is such an intense light, and such a pure fire, in the Divine Essence, and seek to have his whole vitiated and poisoned nature j)enetrated and puri-

' " Si te luxuria tentat, objiee pone tibi horribiles poenas ge-

tibi memoriam mortis tuae, pro- lieniiae. Memoria ardoris gehen-

pone tibi fnturnm judicium, reduc nae extinguat in te ardorem lux-

ai memoriam futura tormenta, urine.'"

propone tibi aeternasupplicia; et Bernard: De Modo Bene Vi-

etiam propone ante oculos tuos vendi. Sermo Ixvii. perpetuosignes int'ernoruni ; pio- 15

326 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGIOX

fied by it. Have you never looked with a steadfast gaze into a grate of burning anthracite, and noticed the quiet intense gh)w of the heat, and how silently the fire throbs and pulsates through the fuel, burn- ing up eveiything that is inflammable, and making the whole mass as pure, an(i clean, and clear, as the element of fire itself? Such is the effect of a contact of God's wrath with man's sin ; of the penetration of man's corruption by the wrath of the Lord.

IV. In the fourth place, the feeling and principle of fear ought to enter into the experience of both youth and manhood, hecause it relieves from all other fear. He who stands in awe of God can look down, from a very great height, upon all other per- turbation. When we have seen Him from whose sisrht the heavens and the earth flee awav, there is nothing, in either the heavens or the earth, that can produce a single ripple upon the surftice of our souls. This is true, even of the unregenerate mind. The fear in this instance is a servile one, — it is not filial and affectionate, — and yet it serves to protect the sub- ject of it from all other feelings of this species, be- cause it is greater than all others, and like Aaron's serpent swallows up the rest. If we must be liable to fears, — and the transgressor always must be, — it is best that they should all be concentrated in one single overmastering sentiment. Unity is ever de- sirable; and even if the human soul were to l)e vis- ited by none but the servile forms of fear, it would

THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION. 3^7

be better that this should be the " terror of the Lord." If, by having the fear of God before our eyes, we could thereby be delivered from the fear of man, and all those apprehensions which are con- nected with time and sense, would it not be wisdom to choose it ? We should then know that there was but one quarter from which our peace could be as- sailed. This would lead us to look in that direc- tion ; and, here upon earth, sinful man cannot look at God long, without coming to terms and becoming reconciled with Him.

V, The fifth and last reason which we assig-n for cherishing the feeling and principle of fear applies to youth, to manhood, and to old age, alike : The fear of God conducts to the love of God. Our Lord does not command us to fear " Him, who after he hath killed hath power to cast into hell," because such a feeling as this is intrinsically desirable, and is an ultimate end in itself. It is, in itself, undesir- able, and it is only a means to an end. By it, our torpid souls are to be awakened from their torpor ; our numbness and hardness of mind, in respect to spiritual objects, is to be removed. We are never for a moment, to suppose that the fear of perdition is set before us as a model and permanent form of experience to be toiled after, — a positive virtue and grace intended to be perpetuated through the whole future history of the soul. It is employed only as an antecedent to a higher and a happier emotion ; and when the purpose for which it has been elicited

328 THE USE OF lEAR IX EELIGION.

has Leen answered, it then disappears. "Perfect love casteth out fear ; for fear hath torment," (1 John iv. 18.^ )

But, at the same time, we desire to direct atten- tion to the fact that he who has been exercised with this emotion, thoroughly and deeply, is con- ducted by it into the higher and happier form of religious experience. Religious fear and anxiety are the prelude to religious peace and joy. These are the discords that prepare for the concords. He, who in the Psalmist's phrase has known the power of the Divine anger, is visited with the manifesta- tion of the Divine love. The method in the thirty- second psalm is the method of salvation. Day and night God's hand is heavy upon the soul ; the fear and sense of the Divine displeasure is passing through tlie conscience, like electric currents. The moisture, the sweet dew of health and happiness, is turned into the drought of summer, by this preparatory process. Then the soul acknowledges its sin, and its inicpiity it hides no longer. It confesses its trans- gressions unto the Lord, — it justifies and approves of this wrath which it has felt, — and He forgives the iniquity of its sin.

It is not a vain thing, therefore, to fear the Lord.

' Baxter (Narrative, Part I.) groweth up by degrees from tlie remarks "that fear, being an more troublesome and safe opera- easier and irresistible passion, tion of fear, to the more high doth oft obsrure that measure of and excellent operations of com- love wiiich is indeed within us ; [)laceutial love." and that the soul of a believer

THE TTSE OF FEAK IN EEHGIOJST. 329

The emotion of which we have been discoursing, painful though it be, is remunerative. There is something in the very experience of moral pain which brings us nigh to God. When, for instance, in the hour of temptation, I discern Grod's calm and lioly eye bent upon me, and I wither beneath it, and resist the enticement because I fear to disobey, I am brought by this chapter in my experience into very close contact with my Maker. There has been a vivid and personal transaction between us. I have heard him say : " If thou doest that wicked thing thou shalt surely die; refrain from doing it, and I will love thee and bless thee." This is the secret of the great and swift reaction which often takes place, in the sinner s soul. He moodily and obstinately fights against the Divine displeasure. In this state of things, there is nothing but fear and torment. Suddenly he gives way, acknowledges that it is a good and a just anger, no longer seeks to beat it back from his guilty soul, but lets the billows roll over while he casts himself upon the Divine pity. In this act and instant, — which in- volves the destiny of the soul, and has millenniums in it, — when he recognizes the justice and trusts in the mercy of God, there is a great rel)Ound, and through his tears he sees the depth, the amazing depth, of the Divine compassion. For, paradoxical as it appears, God's love is best seen in the light of God's displeasure. When the soul is penetrated by this latter feeling, and is thoroughly sensible of

330 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION.

its own wortlilessness, — when man knows himself to be vile, and filthy, and fit only to be Ijurned up by the Divine immaculateness, — then, to have the Great God take him to His heart, and pour out upon him the infinite wealth of His mercy and compassion, is overwhelming. Here, the Divine in- difrnation becomes a foil to set off the Divine love. Kead the sixteenth chapter of Ezekiel, with an eye " purged with euphrasy and rue," so that you can take in the full spiritual significance of the com- parisons and metaphors, and your whole soul will dissolve in tears, as you perceive how the great and pure God, in every instance in which He saves an apostate spii'it, is compelled to bow His heavens and come down into a loathsome sty of sensual- ity.-^ Would it be love of the highest order, in a ser- aph, to leave the pure cerulean and trail his white garments through the haunts of vice, to save the wretched inmates from themselves and their sins? O then what must be the deo-ree of affection and compassion, when the infinite Deity, whose essence is light itself, and whose nature is the iutensest con- trary of all sin, tabernacles in the flesh upon the errand of redemption ! And if the pure spirit of that seraph, while filled with an ineftable loathing,

* " Thus saith the Lord God day that thou wast born. And

unto Jerusalem, tliy birth and thy when I passed by tliee and saw

nativity is of tiie laud of Canaan ; thee polluted in thy own blood,

thy fiitiier was an Amorite, and 1 said unto thee when thou wast

thy mother an Ilittite. Tliou in thy blood. Live ; yea I said

wast cast out in the open field, to unto thee when thou wast in thy

tlie loatliing of thy person, in the blood, Live." Ezelviel xvi. 1, 5, 6.

THE USE OF FEAR IN. RELIGION. o31

and tlie hottest moral indignation, at wliat he saw in character and conduct, were also yearning with an unsj)eakable desire after the deliverance of the vicious from their vice, — the moral wrath thus set- ting in still stronger relief the moral compassion that holds it in check, — what must be the relation .between these two emotions in the Divine Being ! Is not the one the measure of the other ? And does not the soul that fears God in a submissive manner, and acknowledsres the rig-hteousness of the Divine displeasure with entire acquiescence and no sullen resistance, prepare the way, in this very act, for an equally intense manifestation of the Divine mercy and forgiveness ?

The subject treated of in this discourse is one of the most important, and frequent, that is presented in the Scriptures. He who examines is startled to find that the phrase, " fear of the Lord," is woven into the whole web of Revelation from Genesis to the Apocalypse. The feeling and principle under discussion has a Biblical authority, and significance, that cannot be pondered too long, or too closely. It, therefore, has an interest for every human being, whatever may be his character, his condition, or his circumstances. All great religious awakenings be- gin in the dawning of the august and terrible aspects of the Deity upon the popular mind, and they reach their height and happy consummation, ill that love and faith for which the antecedent fear has been the preparation. Well and blessed would

o32 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGIO^ST.

it be for this irreverent and uufearing age, in whicli the advance in mechanical arts and vice is greatei than that in letters and virtue, if the popular mind could be made reflective and solemn by this great emotion.

We would, therefore, pass by all other feelings, and endeavor to fix the eye upon the distinct and unambiguous fear of God, and would urge the }onng, especially, to seek for it as for hid treasures. The feeling is a jminful one, because it is a2?)'e2Xira- tori/ one. There are other forms of religious emo- tion whicli are more attractive, and are necessary in their place ; these you may be inclined to culti- vate, at the expense of the one enjoined by our Lord in tlie text. But we solemnly and earnestly entreat you, not to suffer your inclination to divert your attention from your duty and your true inter- est. We tell you, with confidence, that next to the affectionate and filial love of Grod in your heart, there is no feeling or principle in the whole series that will be of such real solid service to you, as that one enjoined by oar Lord vipon " His disciples first of all." You will need its awing and repressing influence, in many a trying scene, in man}^ a severe temptation. Be encouraged to cherish it, from the fact that it is a very eftective, a very powerful emotion. He who has the fear of God before his eyes is actually and often kept from falling. It will prevail with your weak will, and your infirm purpose, when other motives fail. And if you

THE USE OF FEAB EST RELIGION. 333

could "but stand wliere those do, who have passed through that fearful and dangerous j^assage through which you are now making a transit ; if you could but know, as they do, of what untold value is everything that deters from the wrong and nerves to the ric>-ht, in the critical moments of human life ; you would know, as they do, the utmost importance of cherishing: a solemn and serious dread of dis- pleasing God. The more simple and unmixed this feeling is in your own experience, the more influen- tial will it be. Fix it deeply in the mind, that the great God is holy. Kecur to this fact continually. If the dread which it awakens casts a shadow over the gayety of youth, remember that you need this, and will not be injured by it. The doctrine com- mends itself to you, because you are young, and because you are strong. If it fills you with mis- givings, at times, and threatens to destroy yoiir peace of mind, let the emotion operate. Never stifle it, as you value your salvation. You had better be unhappy for a season, than yield to temptation and grievous snares which will drown you in per- dition. Even if it hangs dark and low over the horizon of your life, and for a time invests this world with sadness, be resolute with yourself, and do not attempt to remove the feeling, except in the legitimate way of the gospel. Remember that every human soul out of Christ ought to fear, " for he that believeth not on the Son, the wrath of God abideth on him." And remember, also, that every

15*

334 THE USE OF FEAR IN RELIGION.

one who believes in Christ ought not to fear ; for " there is no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus, and he that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life."

And with this thouij-ht would we close. This fear of God may and should end in the perfect love that casteth Out fear. This powerful and terrible emotion, which we have been considering, may and ought to prepare the soul to welcome the sweet and thrilling accents of Christ saying, " Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden," with your fears of death, judgment, and eternity, "and I will give you rest,"' Faith in Christ lifts the soul above all fears, and eventually raises .it to that serene world, that blessed state of being, where there is no more curse and no more foreboding.

"Serene will be our days, and bright, And happy will our nature be, When love is an unerring light, And joy its own security."

THE PRESENT. LIFE AS RELATED TO THE FUTURE

Luke xvi. 25. — "And Abraham said, Son remember that thou in thy life- time receivedst thy good things, and hkewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented."

The parable of Dives and Lazarus is one of tlie most solemn passages in the whole Eevelatiou of God. In it, our Lord gives very definite statements concerning the condition of those who have depart- ed this life. It makes no practical difference, whether we assume that this was a real occurrence, or only an imaginary one,— • whether there actually was such a particular rich man as Dives, and such a particular beggar as Lazarus, or whether the nar- rative was invented by Christ for the purpose of conveying the instruction which he desired to give. The instruction is given in either case ; and it is the instruction with which we are concerned. Be it a parable, or be it a historical fact, our Lord here teaches, in a manner not to be disputed, that a man who seeks enjoyment in this life as his chief end shall suffer torments in the next life, and that he who endures sufferins: in this life fur rio^hteousnesa'

OoO THE PRESENT LIFE AS

sake shall dwell in paradise in the next, — that he M^ho finds his life here shall lose his life hereafter, and that he who loses his life here shall find it here after.

For, we cannot for a moment suppose that such a Being as Jesus Christ merely intended to play upon the fears of men, in putting forth such a pic- ture as this. He knew that this narrative would be read by thousands and millions of mankind ; that they would take it from His lips as absolute truth ; that they would inevitably infer from it, that the souls of men do verily live after death, that some of them are in bliss and some of them are in pain, and that the difference between them is due to the dif- ference in the lives which they lead here u23on earth. Now, if Christ was ignorant upon these subjects, He had no right to make such representations and to give such impressions, even through a merely im- aginary narrative. Arnd still less could He l)e jus- tified in so doing, if, being perfectly informed upon the subject, He knew that there is no such place as that in which He puts the luxurious Dives, and no such impassable gulf as that of which He speaks. It will not do, here, to employ the Jesuitical maxim that the end justifies the means, and say, as some teachers have said, that the wholesome impression that will be made upon the vicious and the profli- gate justifies an appeal to their fears, by preaching the doctrine of endless retribution, althou2:h there is no such thing. This was a fiital error in the

RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 337

teachings of Clement of Alexandria, and Origen. " God threatens," — said they, — " and punishes, but only to improve, never for purposes of retribution ; and though, in public discourse, tlie fruitlessness of repentance after death be asserted, yet hereafter not only those who have not heard of Christ will re- ceive forgiveness, but the severer punishment which befalls the obstinate unbelievers will, it may be hoped, not be the conclusion of their history." ^ But can we suppose that such a sincere, such a truth- ful and such a holy Being as the Son of God would stoop to any such artifice as this ? that He who called Himself The Truth would employ a lie, either directly or indirectly, even to promote the spiritual welfare of men ? He never spake for mere sensation. The fact, then, that in this solemn pas- sage of Scripture we find the Redeemer calmly describing and minutely picturing the condition of two persons in the future woi'ld, distinctly specify- ing the points of diflference between them, putting words into their mouths that indicate a sad and hopeless experience in one of them, and a glad and happy one in the other of them, — the fact that in this treatment of the awful theme our Lord, beyond all controversy, conveys the impression that these scenes and experiences are real and true, — is one of the strongest of all proofs that they are so. The reader of Dante's Inferno is always struck with

■ SiiEDD : History of Doctrine, II., 234 sq.

338 THE PRESENT LIFE AS

the sincerity and realism of that poem. Under the delineation of that luminous, and that intense under- standing, hell has a topographic reality. We wind along down those nine circles as doAvii a volcanic crater, black, jagged, precipitous, and impinging upon the senses at every step. The sighs and shrieks jar our own tympanum; and the convulsions of the lost excite tremors in our own nerves. No wonder that the children in the streets of Florence, as they saw the sad and earnest man pass along, his face lined with passion and his brow scarred with thought, pointed at him and said : " There goes the man who has been in bell." But how infinitely raore solemn is the impression that is made by these thirteen short verses, of the sixteenth chapter of Luke's gospel, from tlie lips of such a Being as Je^ sus Christ ! We have here the terse and pregnant teachings of one who, in the phrase of the early Creed, not only " descended into hell," but who '" hath the keys of death and hell." We have here not the utterances of the most truthful, and the most earnest of all human poets, — a man who, we may believe, felt deeply the power of the Hel)rew Bible, thougli living in a dark age, and a superstitious Church, — we have here the utterances of the Son of God, very God, of very God, and we may be cer- tain that He intended to convey no impression that will not be made c-ood in the world to come. And wlien every eye shall see Ilim, and all the sinful kindreds of the earth shall wail because of Him,

EELATED TO THE FUTUEE. 339

there will not be any eye that can look into His and say : " Thy description, O Son of God, was over- drawn ; the impression was greater than the reality." On the contrary, every human soul will say in the day of judgment : " We were forewarned ; the state- ments were exact ; even according to Thy fear, so is Thy wrath ^' (Ps. xc. 11).

But what is the lesson wliich w^e are to read by this clear and solemn light? What would our merciful Redeemer have us learn from this passage which He has caused to be recorded for our instruc- tion ? Let us listen with a candid and a feeling heart, because it comes to us not from an enemy of the human soul, not from a Being who delights to cast it into hell, but from a friend of, the soul ; be- cause it comes to us from One who, in His own per- son and in His own flesh, suffered an anguish supe- rior in dignity and equal in cancelling power to the pains of all the hells, in order that we, through repenta-nce and faith, might be spared their inflic- tion.

The lesson is this : Tlie man who seeks enjoyment in this life., as his chief end, must suffer in the next life ; and he who endures suffering in this life, for righteousness' sake, shall he happy in the next. " Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things ; but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented."

It is a fixed principle in the Divine administra- tion, that the scales of justice shall in the end be

340 THE PRESENT LIFE A

made equal. If, therefore, sin enjoys in this world, it must sorrow in the next ; and if righteousness sor- rows in this world, it must enjoy in the next. The experience shall be reversed, in order to bring every- thing to a right position and adjustment. This is everywhere taught in the Bible. " Woe unto you that are rich ! for ye have received your consolation. Woe unto you that are full ! for ye shall hunger. Woe unto you that laugh now ! for ye shall mourn and weep. Blessed are ye that hunger now ; for ye shall be filled. Blessed are ye that weep now ; for ye shall laugh" (Luke vi. 21, 24, 25). These are the explicit declarations of the Founder of Christianity, and they ought not to surprise us, coming as they do from Him who expressly declares that His kingdom is not of this world ; that in thrs world His disciples must have tribulation, as He had ; that through much tribulation they must enter into the kingdom of God ; that whosoever doth not take up the cross daily, and follow Him, cannot be His disciple.

Let us notice some particulars, in which we see the operation of this principle. What are the " good things " which Dives receives here, for which he must be " tormented " hereafter ? and what are the "evil things" which Lazarus receives in this world, for which he will be " comforted " in the world to come ?

L In the first ])lace, the worldly man derives a more intense pliysical enjoyment from this world's

EELATED TO THE FUTURE. 341

goods, tliaii does tlie child of God. He possesses more of them, and gives himself up to them with less self-restraint. The majority of those who have heen most prospered by Divine Providence in the accmnulation of wealth have been outside of the kingdom and the ark of God. Not many rich and not many noble are called. In the past history of mankind, the great ^possessions and the great in- comes, as a general rule, have not been in the hands of humble and penitent men. In the great centres of trade and commerce, — in Venice, Amsterdam, Paris, London, — it is the world and not the people of God who have had the purse, and have borne what is put therein. Satan is described in Scrip- ture, as the " prince of this world " (John xiv. 30) ; and his words addressed to the Son of God are true : " All this power and glory is delivered unto me, and to whomsoever I will, I give it." In the para- ble from which we are discoursing, the sinful man was the rich man, and the child of God was the beggar. And how often do we see, in every-day life, a faithful, prayerful, upright, and pure-minded man, toiling in poverty, and so far as earthly com- forts are concerned enjoying little or nothing, while a selfish, pleasure-seeking, and ^^roiligate man is im- mersed in physical comforts and luxuries. The former is receiving; evil thiuo-s, and the latter is re- ceiving good things, in this life.

Again, how often it happens that a fine physical constitution, health, strength, and vigor, are given

342 THE PRESENT LIFE AS

to the worldling, and are denied to the cliild of God. The possession of worldly good is greatly enhanced in value, by a fine capability of enjoying it. When therefore we see wealth joined with health, and luxury in all the surroundings and appointments combined with taste to appreciate them and a full flo^v of blood to enjoy them, or access to wide and influential circles, in politics and fashion, given to one who is well fitted by personal qualities to move in them, — when we see a happy adaptation existing between the man and his good fortune, as we call it, — we see not only the "good things," but the " good things " in their gayest and most attractive forms and colors. And how often is all this observed in the instance of the natural man ; and how often is there little or none of this in the instance of tlie spiritual man. We by no means imply, that it is impossible for the possessor of this world's goods to love mercy, to do justly, and to walk humbly ; and we are well aware that under the garb of poverty and toil there may beat a murmuring and rebellious heart. But we think that from genera- tion to generation, in this imperfect and probation- ary world, it will be found to be a fkct, that when merely earthly and physical good is allotted in large amounts by the providence of God ; that when great incomes and ample means of luxury are given ; in the majority of instances they are given to the- enemies of God, and not to His dear children. So tlii^ Psalmist seems to have thought. " I was en-

RELATED TO THE FtJTURE. 343

vio^^s^"_lie says,—" when I saw the prosperity of the wicked. For there are no bands in their death ; but their strength is firm. They are not in trouble as other men ; neither are they plagued like other men. Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain ; violence covereth them as a garment. Then- eyes stand out with fatness; they have more than heart could wish. Behold these are the ungodlij who prosper in the world ; they increase in riches. Verily /have cleansed my heart in vain, and wash- ed my hands in innocency. For all day long have /been plagued, and chastened every morning" (Ps. Ixxiii). And it should be carefully noticed, that the Psalmist, even after further refiection, does not alte)' his statement respecting the relative positions of the godly and the ungodly in this world. He sees no reason to correct his estimate, upon this point. He lets it stand. So far as this merely physical existence is concerned, the wicked man has the advantage. It is only when the Psalmist looks beyond this life, that he sees the compensation, and the balancing again of the scales of eternal right and justice. " When I thought to know this," when I reflected upon this inequality, and ap- parent injustice, in the treatment of the friends and the enemies of God,—" it was too painful for me, until I went into the sanctuary of God," — until I took my stand in the eternal world, and formed my estimate there,— " ^Ae/i. understood I their end. Surely thou didst set them in slippery places : thou

344 THE .PEESENT LIFE AS

castedst tliem down to destruction. How are they "brought into desolation as in a moment ! The}^ are utterly consumed with terrors." Dives passes from his fine linen and sumptuous fare, from his excessive physical enjoyment, to everlasting perdition.

II. In the second place, the worldly man derives more enjoyment from sin, and suffers less from it, in this life, than does the child of God. The really renewed man cannot e?ijoy sin. It is true that he does sin, owing to the strength of old habits, and the remainders of his corruption. But he does not really delight in it ; and he says with St. Paul : " What I would, that do I not ; but what I hate, that do I." His sin is a sorrow, a constant sorrow, to him. He feels its pressure and burden all his days, and cries: "O wretched man, who shall de- liver me from the body of this death." If he falls into it, he cannot live in it ; as a man may fall into water, but it is not his natural element.

Again, the good man not only takes no real de- lio;ht in sin, but his reflections after transgrression are very painful. He has a tender conscience. His senses have been trained and disciplined to discern good and evil. Hence, the sins that are committed by a child of God are mourned over with a very deep sorrow. The longer he lives, the more odious does sin become to him, and the more keen and bitter is his lamentation over it. Now this, in itself, is an "evil thing." Man was not made for sorrow, and soi-row is not his natural con-

RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 345

dition. This wearisome struggle with indwelling corruption, these reproaches of an impartial con- science, this sense of imperfection and of constant failure in the service of God,— all this renders the believer's life on earth a season of trial, and tribula- tion. The thought of its lasting forever would be painful to him ; and if he should be told that it is the will of God, that he should continue to be vexed and foiled through all eternity, with the motions of sin in his members, and that his love and obedience would forever be imperfect, though he would be thankful that even this was granted him, and that he was not utterly cast off, yet he would wear a shaded brow, at the prospect of an imperfect, though a sincere and a struggling eter- nity.

But the ungodly are not so. The worldly man loves sin ; loves pleasure ; loves self And the love is so strong, and accompanied with so much enjoyment and zest, that it is lust, and is so denomi- nated in the Bible. And if you would only defend him from the wrath of God ; if you would warrant him immunity in doing as he likes ; if you could shelter him as in an inaccessible castle from the retributions of eternity ; with what a delirium of pleasure would he plunge into the sin that he loves. Tell the avaricious man, that his avarice shall never have any evil consequences here or hereafter; and with what an energy would he apply himself to the acquisition of wealth. Tell

34G THE PKESEXT LIFE AS

the luxurious man, full of passion and full of blood, that his pleasures shall never bring down any evil upon him, that there is no power in the universe that can hurt him, and with what an abandonment would he surrender himself to his carnal elysium. Tell the ambitious man, fired with visions of fame and glory, that he may banish all fears of a final account, that he may make himself his own deity, and breathe in the incense of worshipers, without any rebuke from Him who says : " I am God, and my glory I will not give to another," — assure the proud and ambitious man that his sin will never find him out, and with what a momen- tum will he follow out his inclination. For, in each of these instances there is a hankering and a lust. The sin is loved and revelled in^ for its ovfn. deliciousness. The heart is worldly, and therefore finds its pleasure in its forbidden objects and aims. The instant you propose to check or thwart this inclination ; the instant you try to detach this natural heart from its wealth, or its pleasure, or its earthly fame ; you discover how closely it clings, and how strongly it loves, and how intensely it enjoys the forbidden object. Like the greedy in- sect in our gardens, it has fed until every fibre and tissue is colored with its. food; and to remove it from the leaf is to tear and lacerate it.

Now it is for this reason, tliat the natural man receives " good things," or experiences pleasure, in this life, at a point where the spiritual man receives

RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 347

" evil things," or experiences pain. The child of G-od does not relish and enjoy sin in this style. Sin in the good man is a burden ; but in the bad man it is a pleasure. It is all the pleasure he has. And when you propose to take it away from him, or when you ask him to give it up of his own accord, he looks at you and asks : " Will you take away the only solace I have ? I have no joy in God. I take no enjoyment in divine things. Do you ask me to make myself wholly miserable ? "

And not only does the natural man enjoy sin, but, in this life, he is much less troubled than is the spiritual man with reflections and selt-reproaches on account of sin. This is another of the " good things" which Dives receives, for which he must be " tormented ;" and this is another of the " evil things " which Lazarus receives, for which he must be " comforted." It cannot be denied, that in this world the child of God suffers more mental sorrow for sin, in a given period of time, than does the insensible man of the world. If we could look into the soul of a faithful disciple of Christ, we should discover that not a day passes, in which his con- science does not reproach him for sins of thought, word, or deed ; in which he does not struggle with some bosom sin, until he is so weary that he cries out : " Oh that I had wings like a dove, so that I might fly away, and be at rest." Some of the most exemplary members of the Church go mourning from day to day, because their hearts are still s )

348 THE PRESENT LIFE AS

far from their God and Saviour, and their lives fall So far short of what they desire them to l)e.^ Their experience is not a positively wretched one, like that of an unforgiven sinner when he is feeling the stings of conscience. They are forgiven. The ex- piating blood has soothed the ulcerated conscience, so that it no longer stings and burns. They have hope in God's mercy. Still, they are in grief and sorrow for sin ; and their experience, in so far, is not a perfectly happy one, such as will ultimately be their portion in a better world. " If in this life only," — says St. Paul, — "we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable" (1 Cor. xv. 19).

But the stupid and impenitent man, a luxurious Dives, knows nothing of all this. His days glide' by with no twinges of conscience. What does he know of the burden of sin ? His conscience is dead asleep ; perchance seared as with a hot iron. He does wrong without any remorse ; he disobeys the express commands of God, without any misgivings

' The early religious experience are trifles. One drop of that f>f John Owen fui'iiislies a strikinfj; Avrath which shall tinally fill the illustration. " For a quarter of cup of the unpodly, poured into a year, he avoided almost all in- the ndnd, is enouijh to poison all tercourse with men ; could scarce- the comforts of life, and to spread ly be induced to speak ; and mourning', lamentati(m, and woe when he did say anything, it over the countenance. Though was in so disordered a manner tiie violence of Owen's convic- as rendered him a wonder to tions had subsided after the first many. Only those who have severe contlict, they still con- experienced the bitterness of a tinued to disturb his peace, and Avounded spirit can form an idea nearly five years elapsed from of the distress he must have suf- tlieir commencement before ho fered. Comjiarfd with tliis an- obtained solid comfort." Okmk: gui.>ii of soul, ail the alliiclioiis Life of Owen, Cliap. I. which befall a sinner [on earth]

EELATED TO THE FUTUKE. 349

or self-reproach. He is" alive, without the law," — as St. Paul expresses it. His eyes stand out with fatness; and his heart, in the Psalmist's phrase, " is as ftit as grease " (Ps. cxix. 70). There is no religious sensibility in him. His sin is a pleasure to him without any mixture of sorrow, because un- attended by any remorse of conscience. He is re- ceiving his " good things " in this life. His days pass by without any moral anxiety, and perchance as he looks upon some meek and earnest disciple of Christ who is battling with indwelling sin, and who, therefore, sometimes wears a grave counte- nance, he wonders that any one should walk so soberly, so gloomily, in such a cheery, such a happy, such a jolly world as this.

It is a startling fact, that those men in this world who have most reason to be distressed by sin are the least troubled by it ; and those who have the least reason to be distressed are the most troubled by it. The child of God is the one who sorrows most ; and the child of Satan is the one who sor- rows least. Remember that we are speaking only of thisYife. The text reads: " Thou i/i thy lifetime yi^- ceivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things." And it is unquestionably so. The meek and lowly disciple of Christ, the one who is most entitled by his character and conduct to be untroul)- led by religious anxiety, is the very one who bows his head as a bulrush, and perhaps goes mourning all his days, fearing that he is not accepted, and

850 THE PKESENT LITE AS

that he shall be a cast-a-way ; while the selfish and thoroughly irreligious man, who ouglit to be stung through and through by his own conscience, and feel the full energy of the law which he is continu- ally breaking, — this man, who of all men ought to be anxious and distressed for sin, goes through a whole lifetime, perchance, without any convictions or any fears.

And now we ask, if this state of things ought to last forever? Is it right, is it just, that sin should enjoy in this style forever and forever, and thai holiness should grieve and sorrow in this style for- evermore ? Would you have the Almighty pay a bounty upon unrighteousness, and place goodness under eternal pains and penalties? Ought not this state of things to be reversed ? When Dives comes to the end of this lifetime ; when he has run his round of earthly pleasure, faring sumptuously every day, clothed in purple and fine linen, without a thought of his duties and obligations, and without any anxiety and penitence for his sins, — when this worUlly man has received all his "good things," and is satiated and hardened by them, ought lie not then to be " tormented ?" Ought this guilty carnal enjoyment to be perpetuated through all eternity, under the government of a righteous and just God ? And, on the other hand, ought not the faithful dis- cij)le, who, perhaps, has possessed little or nothing of this woi-ld's goods, who has toiled hard, in pov- erty, in alHiction, in temptation, in tribulation, and

RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 351

sometimes like Abraham in the lion-or of a great darkness, to keep his robes white, and his soul un- spotted from the world, — when the poor and weary Lazarus comes to the end of this lifetime, ought not his trials and sorro\\^s to cease ? ousfht he not then to be " comforted " in the bosom of Abraham, in the paradise of God ? There is that within us all, which answers, Yea, and Amen. Such a balancing of the scales is assented to, and demanded by the moral con- victions. Hence, in the parable, Dives himself is represented as acquiescing in the eternal judgment. He does not complain of injustice. It is true, that at first he asks for a drop of water, — for some slight mitigation of his punishment. This is the instinct- ive request of any sufferer. But when his atten- tion is directed to the right and the wrong of the case ; when Abraham reminds him of the principles of justice by which his destiny has been decided ; when he tells him that having taken his choice of pleasure in the woiid which he has left, he cannot now have pleasure in the world to which he has come; the wretched man makes no reply. There is nothing to be said. He feels that the procedure is just. He is then silent upon the subject of his own tortures, and only T)egs that his five brethren, whose lifetime is not yet run out, to whom there is still a space left for repentance, may be warned from his own lips not to do as he has done,— not to choose pleasure on earth as their chief good ; not to take their "good things" in this life. Dives, the man in

852 THE PRESENT LUE AS

hell, is a witness to the justice of eternal punish- ment.

1. In view of this subject, as thus discussed, we remark in the first place, that no man can have hia "good things," in other words, his chief pleasure, in hotli worlds. God and this world are in antagonism. " For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him" (1 John i. 15, 16). It is the height of folly, there- fore, to suppose that a man can make earthly en- joyment his chief end while he is upon earth, and tlien pass to heaven when he dies. Just so far as he holds on upon the "good things" of this life, he relaxes his grasp upon the " good things" of the next. No man is capacious enough to hold both worlds in his embrace. He cannot serve God and Mammon. Look at this as a matter of fact. Do not take it as a theory of the preacher. It is as plain and certain that you cannot lay up your treas- ure in heaven while you are laying it up upon earth, as it is that your material bodiescannot occupy two poi-tions of space at one and the same time. Dismiss, therefore, all expectations of being able to accom- plish an impossibility. Put not your mind to sleep with the opiate, that in some inexplicable manner you will be able to live the life of a worldly mnn upon eartli, and then the life of a spiritual man in heaven. There is no alcheni}' that can amalgamate

RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 353

substances that refuse to mix. No man has ever yet succeeded, no man ever will succeed, in securing both the pleasures of sin and the pleasures of holi- ness,— in living the life of Dives, and then going to the bosom of Abraham.

2. And this leads to the second remark, that every man must mcike his choice whether he will have his " good things " now, or hereafter. Every man is making his choice. Every man has already made it. The heart is now set either upon God, or uj)on the world. Search through the globe, and you cannot find a creature with double affections ; a creature with tivo chief ends of living ; a creature w^hose treasure is both upon earth and in heaven. All mankind are single-minded. They either mind earthly things, or- heavenly things. They are in- spired with one predominant purpose, which rules them, determines their character, and decides their destiny. And in all who have not been renewed by Divine grace, the purpose is a wrong one, a false and fatal one. It is the choice and the pur- ]iose of Dives, and not the choice and purpose of Lazarus.

3. Hence, w^e remark in the third place, that it is the duty and the wisdom of every man to let this world go, and seek his "good things" hereafter. Our Lord commands every man to sit doT\Ti, like the steward in the j^arable, and make an estimate. He enjoins it upon every man to reckon up the advantages upon each side, and see for himself

354 THE PRESENT LIFE AS

which IS superior. He asks every man what it will profit him, " if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul ; or, what he shall give in exchange for his soul." We urge you to make this estimate, — to compare the " good things " which Dives enjoyed, with the "torments" that followed them ; and the " evil things " which Lazarus suf- fered, with the " comfort " that succeeded them. There can be no douljt u2')on ^vliicli side the balance will fall. And we urge jou to take the " evil things " notv, and the " good things " liereafter. "We entreat you to copy the example of Moses at the court of the Pharaohs, and in the midst of all regal luxury, who " chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God, than enjoy the pleasures of sii:u for a season; esteeming the repi'oach of Christ, greater riches than the treasures in Egypt : for lie had respect unto the recompense of rewardy Take the narrow way. What though it be strait and narrow ; you are not to walk in it forever. A few short years of fidelity will end the toilsome pilgrim- age ; and then you will come out into a " wealthy place." We might tell you of the pys of the Christian life that are mingled with its trials and sorrows even here upon earth. For, this race to which we invite you, and this fight to which we call you, have their own peculiar, solemn, substan- tial joy. And even their sorrow is tinged with glory. In a higher, truer sense than Protesilaus in the poem says it of the pagan elysium, we may say

RELATED TO THE FUTURE. 355

even of tlie Christian race, and the Christian fight,

"Calm pleasures there abide — majestic pains.^^ '

But we do not care, at this point, to influence you by a consideration of the amount of enjoyment, in this life, \\^hich you will derive from a close and humble walk with God. We prefer to put the case in its baldest form, — in th.e aspect in which we find it in our text. We will say nothing at all about the happiness of a Christian life, here in time. We will talk only of its tribulations, We will only say, as in the j^arable, that there are " evil things " to be endured here upon earth, in return for which w^e shall have " good things " in another life. There is to be a moderate and sober use of this world's goods ; there is to be a searching sense of sin, and an humble confession of it before God ; there is to be a cross-bearing every day, and a struggle Avith indwelling corruption. These will cost eifort, watch- fulness, and earnest prayer for Di\dne assistance. We do not invite you into the kingdom of God, without telling you frankly and j^lainly beforehand what must be done, and what must be suffered. But having told you this, we then tell you with the utmost confidence and assurance, that you will l)e infinitel}^ repaid for your choice, if you take your " evil things " in this life, and choose your " good things " in a future. We know, and are certain, that this light affliction which endui'es but for a moment, in comparison with the infinite duration beyond

' WoRDswoETH : Laodauiia.

356 THE PEESEl^TT LIFE AS

tlie toml), will work out a far more exceeclinof and eternal weight of glory. We entreat you to look no longer at tlie things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen ; for the things that are seen are temporal, but the things that are not seen are eternal.

Learn a parable from a wounded soldier. His limb must be amputated, for mortification and gan- grene have begun their work. He is told that the surgical operation, which will last a half hour, will yield him twenty or forty years of healthy and active life. The endurance of an " evil thing," for a few moments, will result in the possession of a " good thing," for many long days and years. He holds out the limb, and submits to the knife. He accepts the inevitable conditions under which he finds himself. He is resolute and stern, in order to secure a great good in the future.

It is the practice of this same princi'ple^ though not in the use of the same kind of power, that we would urge upon you. Look iip to God for grace and lielp^ and deliberately forego a present advan- tage, for the sake of something infinitely more val- uable hereafter. Do not, for the- sake of the tem- porary enjoyment of Dives, lose the eternal happi- ness of Lazarus. Kather, take the place, and ac- cept the " evil things," of the beggar. Looh vp to God for grace and strength to do it, and then live a life of contrition for sin, and faith in Chnst's blood. Deny yourself, and take up the cross daily.

BELATED TO THE FUTUEE. 357

Expect your happiness hereafter. Lay up your treasure ahove. Then, in the deciding day, it will be said of you, as it will be of all the true children of God : " These are they which came out of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb."

16*

THE EXERCISE OF MEROT OPTIONAL WITH GOD

Romans ix. 15. — "For He saith to Moses, I will have mercy on whom I will have merc}'^, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion."

This is a part of the description which God him- self gave to Moses, of His own nature and attributes. The Hebrew legislator had said to Jehovah : '' I beseech thee show me thy glory." He desired a clear understaudino; of the character of that Great Being, under whose guidance he was commissioned to lead the people of Israel into the promised land. God said to him in reply : " I ^vill make all my goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before thee ; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy." ^

By this, God revealed to Moses, and through him to all mankind, the fact that He is a merciful being, and directs attention to one particular characteristic

* Compare, also, the very full This is the more noteworthy, as

announcement of mercy as a Di- it occurs in connection witli the

vine attribute tliat was to be ox- giving of the law, erciscd, in Exodus xxxiv. 6, 7.

THE EXERCISE OF MERCY. o5*J

of mercy. While informing His servant, that He is gracious and clement towards a penitent trans- gressor, He at the same time teaches him that He is under no obligation, or necessity, to shew mercy. Grace is not a debt. " I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion."

The apostle Paul quotes this declaration, to shut the mouth of him who would set up a claim to salvation ; who is too proud to beg for it, and accept it as a free and unmerited favor from God. In so doing, he endorses the sentiment. The inspiration of his Epistle corroborates that of the Pentateuch, so that we have assurance made doubly sure, that this is the correct enuncia- tion of the nature of mercy. Let us look into this hope-inspiring attribute of God, under the guidance of this text.

The great question that presses upon the human mind, from age to age, is the inquiry : Is God a merciful Being, and will He show mercy ? Living as we do under the light of Kevelation, we know little of the doubts and fears that spontaneously rise in the guilty human soul, when it is left solely to the lio;ht of nature to answer it. With the Bible in our hands, and hearing the good news of Redemp- tion from our earliest years, it seems to be a matter of course that the Deity should pardon sin. Nay, a certain class of men in Christendom seem to have come to the opinion that it is more difficult to prove

3G0 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY

that God is just, than to prove that He is merciful.' But this is not the thought and feeling of man when outside of the pale of Revelation. Go into the an- cient pagan world, examine the theologizing of the Greek and Roman mind, and you will discover that the fears of the justice far outnumbered the hopes of the mercy ; that Plato and Plutarch and Cicero and Tacitus were far more certain that God would punish sin, than that He would pardon it. This is the reason that there is no light, or joy, in any of the pagan religious. Except when religion was converted into the worship of Beauty, as in the in- stance of the later Greek, and all the solemn and truthful ideas of law and justice were eliminated from it, every one of the natural religions of the, globe is filled with sombre and gloomy hues, and no others. The truest and best religions of the ancient w^orld were always the sternest and saddest, because the unaided human mind is certain that

' Tlieir creed lives in the satire and pungency now, as it was one of Young (Universal Passion. Sat- hundred years ago. ire VI.), — as full of sense, truth,

" From atheists far, they steadfastly believe God is, and is Almighty — to forgive. His other excellence they'll not dispute; But mercy, sure, is Ilis cliief attribute. Sliall pleasu'-es of a short duration chain A lady's soul in everlasting pain 'i Will tlie great Author us pour worms destroy, For now and tlien a sip of transient j..y ? No, He's forever in a smiling mood ; He's like themselves; or how couhl He be good? And tliey blasplieme, who blacker schemes sui)pose. Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they (le|)()se. The Pure! the Just! and set u[) in His stead, A deity that's perfi-ctly well-bred.''

OPTIOlSrAL WITH GOD. 361

Gocl is just, but is not certain that He is merciful. When man is outside of Kevelation, it is by no means a matter of course that God is clement, and that sin shall be forgiven. Great uncertainty over- hangs the doctrine of the Divine mercy, from the j)osition of natural religion, and it is only within the province of revealed truth that the uncertainty is removed. Apart from a distinct and direct 'promise from the lips of God Himself that He will forgive sin, no human creature can be sure that siu will ever be forgiven. Let us, therefore, look into the subject carefully, and see the reason why man, if left to himself and his spontaneous reflections, doubts whether there is mercy in the Holy One for a transgressor, and fears that there is none, and why a special revelation is consequently required, to dispel the doubt and the fear.

The reason lies in the fact, implied in the text, that tlie exercise of justice is necessary^ while that of mercy is (^tional. " I will have mercy on whom I please to have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom 1 please to have compassion." It is a prin- ciple inlaid in the structure of the human soul, that the transgression of law must be visited with retri- bution. The pagan conscience, as well as the Chris- tian, testifies that " the soul that sinneth it shall die." There is no need of quoting from pagan phi- losophers to prove this. We should be compelled to cite page after page, should we enter upon the documentary evidence. Take such a tract, for ex-

3G2 THE EXEECISE OF MERCY

ample, as that of Plutarch, upon what lie deuomi- nates " the slow vengeance of the Deity ; " read the reasons which he assigns for the apparent delay, in this world, of the infliction of punishment upon transgressors ; and you will perceive that the human mind, when left to its candid and unbiassed con- victions, is certain that God is a holy Being and will visit iniquity with penalty. Throughout this entire treatise, composed by a man who probably never saw the Scriptures of either the New or the Old Dispensation, there runs a solemn and deep consciousness that the Deity is necessarily obliged, by the principles of justice, to mete out a retribu- tion to the violator of law. Plutarch is engaged with the very same question that the apostle Peter takes up, in his second Epistle, when he answers the objection of* the scoffer who asks : Where is the promise of God's coming in judgment ? The apos- tle re^^lies to it, by saying that for the Eternal Mind one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day, and that therefore 'Hhe Lord is not nlack concerning His promise, as some men count slackness;" and Plutarch answers it in a different manner, but assumes and affirms with the same positiveness and certainty that the vengeance will ultimately come. No reader of this treatise can dou])t for a moment, that its author believed in the future punishment of the wicked, — and in the future endleHH punishment of the incori'igibly wicked, be- cause there is not the slightest hint or expectation

OPTIONAL WITH GOD

363

of any exercise of mercy, on the part of this Divinity whose vengeance, though slow, is sure and inevita- ble.^ Some theorists tell us that the doctrine of endless punishment contradicts the instincts of the natural reason, and that it has no foundation in the constitution of the human soul. We invite them

' Plutarch supposes a form of punishment in the future world that is disciplinary. If it accom- ])lishes its purpose, the soul goes into Elysium, — a doctrine like tliat of purgatory in the Papal scheme. But in case the person proves incorrigible, his sutfering is endless. He represents an in- dividual as having been restored to life, and giving an account of what he had seen. Among other tilings, be " informed his friend, liow that Adrastia, the daughter of Jupiter and Necessity, was seat- ed in the highest place of all, to punish all manner of crimes and enormities, and that in the whole number of the wicked and ungod- ly there never was any one, whether great or little, high or low, rich or poor, that could ever by force or cunning escape the severe lashes of lier rigor. But as there are three sorts of punish- ment, so there are throe several Furies, or female ministers of jus- tice, and to every one of these belongs a peculiar office and de- gree of punislimeut. The first of these was called Hor.'?/ or Pain ; whose executions are swift and speedy upon those tliat are pres- ently to receive bodily punish- ment in this life, and which she manages after-a more gentle man- ner, omitting the correction of slight offences, which need but little expiation. But if the cure of impiety require a greater labor, the Deity delivers those, after

death, to A'«7 or Vengeance. But when Vengeance has given them over as altogether i?icuraMe^ then the third and most severe of all Adrastia's ministers, 'Epivic or Fury, takes them in hand, and after she has chased and coursed them from one place to another, flying yet not knowing where to fly for shelter and relief, plagued and tormented with a thousand miseries, she plunges them head- long into an invisible abyss, the hideousness of which no tongue can express." Pltitaucii : Mor- als, Vol. IV. p. 210. Ed. 1G94. Plato (Gorgias 525. c. d. Ed. Bip. IV. 169) represents Socrates as teaching that those who " have committed the most extreme wickedness, and have become in- curable through sijch crimes, are made an exaTuple to others, and suffer forever {Ttdaxfvrac rbv aet xpovot') the greatest, most agoniz- ing, and most dreadful punish- ment." And Socrates adds that "Homer (Odyssey xi. 575) also bears witness to this ; for he represents kings and potentates, Tantalus, Sysiphus, and Tityus, as being tormented forever in Hades" {£v gSov rbv ael ^P"^'"'" '<■' fiufjovfievo^). — In the Aztec or Mex- ican theology, "the wicked, com- prehending the greater part of mankind, were to expiate their sin in a place of everl.asting dark- ness." Prescott : Conquest of Mexico, Vol. I. p. 62.

364 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY

to read and ponder well, the speculations of one of the most thoughtful of pagans upon this subject, and tell us if they see any streaks or rays of light in it ; if they see any inkling, any jot or tittle, of the doctrine of the Divine pity there. We challenge them to discover in this tract of Plutarch the slio-ht- est token, or sign, of the Divine mercy. The author believes in a hell for the wicked, and an elysium for the good ; but those who go to hell go there upon 2)rinciples oi justice^ and those who go to ely* sium go there uj)on the same principles. It is jus- tice that must place men in Tartarus, and it is jus- tice that must place them in Elysium. In pagan- ism, men must earn their heaven. The idea of mercy ^ — of clemency towards a transgressor, of pity towards a criminal, — is entirely foreign to the thoughts of Plutarch, so far as they can be gathered from this tract. It is the clear and terrible doctrine of the pagan sage, that unless a man can make good his claim to eternal happiness upon the ground of law and justice, — unless he merits it by good works, — there is no hope for him in the other world.

The idea of a forgiving and tender mercy in the Supreme Being, exercised towards a creature whom justice would send to eternal retribution, nowhere appears in the best pagan ethics. And why should it ? What evidence or proof has the human mind, apart from the revelations made to it in the Old and New Testaments, that God will ever forgive

OPTIONAL WITH GOD. 365

sin, or ever show mercy ? In thinking upon the subject, our reason perceives, intuitively, that God must of necessity punish transgression ; and it per- ceives with equal intuitiveness that there is no cor- responding necessity that He should pardon it. We say with confidence and positiveness : " God must l)e just ; " but we cannot say with any certainty or confidence at all : " God mnst be mei'ciful." The Divine mercy is an attribute which is per- fectly free and optional, in its exercises, and therefore we cannot tell beforehand whether it will or will not be shown to transo-ressors. We know nothing at all about it, until we hear some word from the lips of God Himself upon the point. When He opens the heavens, and speaks in a clear tone to the human race, saying, " I will forgive your iniquities," then, and not till then, do they know the fact. In reference to all those procedures which, like the punishment of transgression, are fixed and necessary, because they are founded in the eternal principles of law and justice, we can tell beforehand what the Divine method will be. We do not need any special revelation, to inform us that God is a just Being, and that His anger is kindled against wickedness, and that He will punish the transgress- or. This class of truths, the Apostle informs us, are written in the human constitution, and we have already seen that they were known and dreaded in the pagan world. That Avhich God mast do. He certainly will do. He must be just, and therefore

366 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY

He certainly will punish sin, is the reasoning of the human mind, the world over, and in every age.^

But, when we pass from the punishment of sin to the pardon of it, when we go over to the merci- ful side of the Divine Nature, we can come to no certain conclusions, if we are shut up to the work- in2;s of our own minds, or to the teachino-s of the world of nature about us. Picture to yourself a thoughtful pagan, like Solon the legislator of Athens, living in the heart of heathenism five cen- turies before Christ, and knowing nothing of the promise of mercy which broke faintly through the heavens immediately after the apostasy. of the first human pair, and which found its full and victorious utterance in the streaming blood of Calvary. Sup-

' It may be objected, at this ed to dwell forever in tbe self- point, that mercy also is a neces- snfficiency of His Trinity, and 8ary attribute in God, like justice never called tlie Finite into exist- itself, — that it necessarily belongs encefrom nothing, He might have to the nature of a perfect Being, done so, and He would still have and therefore might be inferred been omnipotent and "blessed a priori by tlie pagan, like other forever." In like manner, the attributes. This is true; but the attribute of mercy might exist in objection overlooks the distinc- God, and yet not be exerted, tion between the existence of an Had He been pleased to treat the attribute and its exercise. Om- human race as He did the fallen nipotence necessarily belongs to angels, He was perfectly at lib- tlie idea of the Supreme Being, erty to do so, and the number but it does not follow that it must and quality of his immanent at- riecessarily be w<;rfe(Z in act. Be- tributes would have been the cause God is able to create the same that they are now. But universe of matter and mind, it justice is an attribute which not does not follow tliat he 7nvsi only exists of necessity, but must create it. Tlie doctrine of the be f-fWc/.W of necessity ; because necessity ofcre;ition, though held not to exercise it would l)e injus- in a few instances by theists who tice. — For a fuller ex]>osition of poetn not to liave discerned its the natui-e of justice, see Shehd: Icuicnl consequences, is virtually Discourses and Essays, pp. 21)1- patiiheistic. Had God been pleas- 300.

OPTION-AL WITH GOD. 3(17

pose that the accusing and condemning law written upon his conscience had shown its work, and made him conscious of sin. Suppose that the question had risen within him, whether that Dread Being ^vhom he "ignorantly worshij^ped," and against whom he had committed the offence, wouhl for- give it ; was there anything in his own soul, was there anything in the world around him or above him, that could 2:ive him an affirmative answer ? The instant he put the question : Will God punisJh me for my transgression ? the affirming voices were instantaneous and authoritative. "The soul that sinneth it shall die" was the verdict that came forth from the recesses of his moral nature, and was echoed and re-echoed in the suffering, pain, and physical death of a miseral )le and groaning world all around him. But when he put the other question to himself: Will the Deity 'pardoyi me for ni}'" transgression ? there was no affirmative answer from any source of knowledge accessible to him. If he sought a reply from the depths of his own conscience, all that he could hear was the ter- rible utterance : " The soul that sinneth it shall die." The human conscience can no more promise, or certify, the forgiveness of sin, than the ten com- mandments can do so. When, therefore, this pa- gan, convicted of sin, seeks a comforting answer to his anxious inquiry respecting the Divine clemency towards a criminal, he is met only with retributive thunders and lightnings ; he hears only that accus-

368 TETE EXEECISE OF MERCY

ing and condemning law which is ^vritten on the heart, and experiences that fearful looking-for of judgment and fiery indignation which St. Paul describes, in the first chapter of Romans, as work- ing in the mind of the universal pagan world.

But we need not go to Solon, and the pagan world, for evidence upon this subject. Why is it that a convicted man under the full lio-ht of the gospel, and with the unambiguous and explicit promise of God to forgive sins ringing in his eai's, — why is it, that even under these favorable cir- cumstances a guilt-smitten man finds it so difiicult to believe that there is mercy for him, and to trust in it ? Nay, why is it that he finds it impossible fully to believe that Jehovah is a sin-pardoning God, unless he is enabled so to do by the Holy Ghost ? It is because he knows that God is under a necessity of punishing his sin, but is nnder no necessity of pardoning it. The very same judicial principles are operating in his mind that operate in that of a pagan Solon, or any other transgressor outside of the revelation of mercy. That which holds back the convicted sinner from casting him- self upon the Divine pity is the perception that God must l)e just. This fiict is certain, whether anything else is certain or not. And it is not un- til he perceives that God can be both just and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus ; it is not until he sees tliat, through the substituted suffer- ings of Christ, God can punish sin while at the

OPTIOJ^TAL WITH GOD. 369

same time He pardons it, — can pimisli it in tlie Substitute wliile He pardons it in the sinner, — it is not until lie is enabled to appreliend tlie doc- trine of vicarious atonement, that his douT^ts and fears res2:>ecting the possibility and reality of the Divine mercy are removed. The instant he dis- covers that the exercise of pardon is rendered en- tirely consistent with the justice of God, by the substituted death of the Son of God, he sees the Divine mercy, and that too in the high form of self-sacrifice, and trusts in it, and is at peace.

These considerations are sufficient to show, that according to the natural and spontaneous opera- tions of the human intellect, justice stands in the way of the exercise of mercy, and that therefore, if man is not informed by Di\'ine Revelation respect- ing this latter attril^ute, he can never acquire the certainty that God will forgive his sin. There are two very important and significant inferences from this truth, to which we noAV ask serious attention.

1. In the first place, those who deny the credi- bility, and Divine authority, of the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments shut up tlie whole tvorld to doubt and despair. For, unless God has spoken the word of mercy in this written Revela- tion, He has not spoken it anywhere ; and we have seen, that unless He has spoken such a mer- ciful word som^iohere, no human transo-i-essor can be certain of anything but stark unmitigated justice and retriljution. Do you tell us that God is too

370 THE EXEKCISE OF MEI^CT

good to punisli men, and that therefore it must l)e that He is merciful ? We tell you, in reply, that God is good when He punishes sin, and your own conscience, like that of Plutarch, re-echoes the reply. Sin is a wicked thing, and when the Holy One visits it with retribution, He is manifesting the purest moral excellence and the most immaculate perfection of character that we can conceive of. But if by goodness you mean mei-cy, then we say that this is the very point in dispute, and you must not beg the point but must prove it. And now, if you deny the authority and credibility of the Scri23tures of the Old and New Testaments, Ave ask you upon what ground you venture to affirm that God will pardon man's sin. You cannot demon- strate it upon a,nj a ]:)i'io?'i and necessary princij^les. You cannot show that the Deity is obligated to remit the ^^enalty due to transgression. You can prove the necessity of the exercise of justice, but you cannot prove the necessity of the exercise of mercy. It is purely optional with God, whether to pardon or not. li] therefore, you cannot estab- lish the fact of the Divine clemency by a j))'io/'l reasoning, — if you cannot make out a necessity for the exercise of mercy, — you must betake yourself to the only other method of proof that remains to you, the method of testimony. If you have the dedavation and iwomise of God, that He will for- give inif[uity, transgression, and sin, you may be certain of tlie fact, — as certain as you would be,

OPTIONAL WITH GOD. oTl

could 3^ou prove the absolute necessity of tlie ex- ercise of mercy. For God's promise cannot be broken. God's testimony is sure. But, 1)y the supposition, you deny that this declaration has been made, and this promise has been uttered, in the written Revelation of the Christian Church. Where then do you send me for the information, and the testimony ? Have you a private revelation of your own ? Has the Deity spoken to you in particular, and told you that He w^ill forgive your sin, and my sin, and that of all the generations? Unless this declaration has been made either to you or to some other one, we liave seen that you cannot establish the certainty that God will for- give sin. It is a purely optional matter with Him, and whether He will or no depends entirely upon His decision, determination, and declaration. If He says that Pie will pardon sin, it will certainly be done. But until He says it, ^^ou and eveiy other man must be remanded to the inexorable decisions of conscience which thunder out: "The soul that sinneth it shall die." Whoever, there- fore, denies that God in the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments has broken through the vei: that hides eternity from time, and has testified to the human race that He will forgive sin, and has solemnly promised to do so, takes away fi^om the human race the only ground of certainty which they possess, that thei-e is pity in the heavens, and that it will be shown to ^infid cieatui-es like them-

372 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY

selves. But this is to shut them up again, to the doubt antl hopelessness of the pagan world, — a world without Revelation,

2. In tlie second place, it follows from this suh- ject, that mankind must take the declaration ami promise of God^ respecting the exercise of mercy^ precisely as He has given it. They must follow the record implicitly^ without any criticisms or alterations. Not only does the exercise of mercy depend entirely upon the will and pleasure of God, l)ut, the mode, the conditions, and the length of time during which the offer shall be made, are all dependent upon the same sovereignty. Let us look at these particulars one by one.

In the first place, the method by which the Divine clemency shall be manifested, and the con- ditions upon which the offer of forgiveness shall be made, are matters that rest solely with God. If it is entirely optional with Him whether to pardon at all, much more does it depend entirely u})on Him to determine the way and means. It is here that we stop the mouth of him who objects to the doctrine of fora-iveness throuo-h a vicarious atone- raent. We will by no means concede, that the ex- hibition of mercy through the vicarious satisfaction of justice is an optional matter, and that God might have dispensed with such satisfaction, had He so willed. We believe that the forgiveness of sin is possible even to the Deity, only through a substituted sacrifice that completely satisfies the

OPTIONAL WITH GOD. 373

demands of law and justice, — that without the shedding of expiating blood there is no remission of sin possible or conceivable, under a government, of law. But, without asking the objector to come up to this high ground, we are willing, for the sake of the argument, to go down upon his low one ; and we say, that even if the metaphysical necessity of an atonement could not be maintained, and that it is purely optional with (rod whether to employ this method or not, it would still be tbe duty and wis- dom of man to take the record just as it reads, and to accept the method that has actually been adopted. If the Sovereign has a perfect right to say whether He will or will not pardon the crimi- nal, has He not the same right to say hoiv He will do it? If the transgressor, upon principles of jus- tice, could be sentenced to endless misery, and yet the Sovereign Judge concludes to offer him forgive- ness and eternal life, shall the criminal, the culprit who could not stand an instant in the judgment, presume to quarrel with the method, and dictate the terms by which his own pardon shall be se- cured ? Even supposing, then, that there were no intrinsic necessity for the offering of an infinite sacrifice to satisfy infinite justice, the Great God might still take the lofty ground of sovereignty, and say to the criminal : " My will shall stand for my reason ; I decide to otfer you amnesty and eternal joy, in this mode, and upon these terms. The reasons for my method are known to myself.

17

374 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY

Take mercy in this method, or take justice. Re- ceive the forgiveness of sin in this mode, or else receive the eternal and just punishment of sin. Can I not do what I will with mine own ? la thine eye evil because I am good ? " God is nnder no necessity to oifer the forgiveness of sin to any criminal upon any terms; still less is He hedged up to a method of forgiveness prescribed by the crimi- nal himself.

Again, the same reasoning will apply to the time during ivMch the offer of mercy shall he ex- tended. If it is purely optional with God, whether He will pardon my sin at all, it is also purely optional witli Him to fix the limits within which He will exercise the act of pardon. Should He tell me, that if I would confess and forsake my sins to-day, He would blot them out forevei-, but that the gracious offer should be withdrawn to- morrow, what conceivable ground of complaint could I discover? He is under no necessity of extending the pardon at this moment, and neither is He at the next, or any future one. Mercy is grace, and not debt. Now it has pleased God, to limit the period during which the work of Re- demption shall go on. There is a point of time, for every sinful man, at which " there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin" (Heb. x. 26). The period of Redemption is confined to earth and time ; and unless the sinner exercises repentance towards God and faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,

OPTIO]!fAL WITH GOD. 375

before bis spirit returns to God wlio gave it, there is no redemption for him through eternal ages. This fact we know by the declaration and testi- mony of God ; in the same manner that we know that God will exercise mercy at all, and upon any conditions whatever. We have seen that we cannot establish the fact that the Deity will forgive sin, by £iwy a priori reasoning, but know it only because He has spoken a word to this effect, and given the world His promise to be gracious and merciful. In like manner, we do not establish the fact that there will be no second offer of forgiveness, in the future world, by any process of reasoning from the nature of the case, or the necessity of things. We are willing to concede to the objector, that for aught that we can see the Holy Ghost is as able to take of the things of Christ, and show them to a guilty soul, in the next world, as He is in this. So far as almighty power is concerned, the Divine Spirit could convince men of sin, and righteousness, and judgment, and incline them to repentance and faith, in eternity as well as in time. And it is equally true, that the Divine Spirit could have prevented the origin of sin itself, and the fall of Adam, with the untold woes that proceed there- from. But it is not a question of power. It is a question of intention, of determination, and of testi- mony upon the part of God. And He has dis- tinctly declared in the written Revelation, that it is His intention to limit the converting and saving

376 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY

influences of His Spirit to time and earth. He tells the whole world unequivocally, that His spirit shall not always strive with man, and that the day of judgment which occurs at the end of this Dispensa- tion of grace, is not a day of pardon but of doom. Christ's description of the scenes that will close up this Redemptive Economy, — the throne, the opened books, the sheep on the right hand and the goats on the left hand, the words of the Judge : '' Come ye blessed, depart ye cursed," — proves beyond con- troversy that " now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation." The utterance of our Re- deeming God, by His servant David, is: " To-day if ye will hear His voice harden not your hearts." St. Paul, in the Epistle to the Hebrews, informs the world, that as God sware that those Israelites who did not believe and obey His servant Moses, during their wanderings in the desert, should not enter the earthly Canaan, so those, in any age and generation of men, who do not believe and obey His Son Jesus Christ, during their earthly pilgrimage, shall, by the same Divine oath, be shut out of the eternal rest that remaineth for the people of God (Hebrews iii. 7-19). Unbelieving men, in eternity, will be deprived of the benefits of Christ's redemption, by the oath, the solemn decision, the judicial determi- nation of God. For, this exercise of mercy, of which we are speaking, is not a matter of course, and of necessity, and which therefore continues for- ever and forever. It is optional. God is entirely

OPTIOJ^TAL WITH GOD. 377

at liberty to pardon, or not to pardon. And He is entirely at liberty to say when, and how, and liow long tlie offer of pardon shall be extended. He had the power to carry the whole body of the peo- ple of Israel over Jordan, into the promised land, but He sware that those who proved refi^actory, and disobedient, during a certain definite i)eviod of tinie^ should never enter Canaan. And, by His apostle, He informs all thq generations of men, that the same principle will govern Him in resj)ect to the entrance into tlie heavenly Canaan. The limit- ino; of the offer of salvation to this life is not founded upon an}'- necessity in the Divine Nature, but, like the offer of salvation itself, depends upon the sovereign pleasure and determination of God. That pleasure, and that determination, have been distinctly made known in the Scriptures. We know as clearly as we know anything revealed in the Bi- ble, that God has decided to pardon liere in time, and not to pardon in eteinity. He has drawn a line between tlie present period, during which He makes salvation possible to man, and the future pe- riod, when He will not make it possible. And He had a right to draw that line, because mercy from first to last is the optional, and not the obligated agency of tke Supreme Being.

Therefore, fear lest, a promise being left us of entering into His rest, any of you should seem to come short of it. For unto you is the gospel preached, as well as unto those Israelites ; but the

378 THE EXERCISE OF MERCY.

word did not profit them, not being mixed with faith in them that heard it. Neither will it profit you, unless it is mixed with faith. God limiteth a certain day, saying in David, " To-day^ after so long a time," — after these many years of hearing and ne- glecting the ofter of forgiveness, — " to-day^ if ye will hear His voice, harden not your hearts." Labor, therefore, now^ to enter into that rest, lest any man fall, after the same example of unbelief, with those Israelites whom the oath of God shut out of both the earthly and the heavenly Canaan.

CHRISTIANITT REQUIRES THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD

Mark x. 15. — " Verily I say unto you, whosoever shall not receive tho kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein."

These words of our Lord are very positive and emphatic, and will, therefore, receive a serious atten- tion from every one who is anxious concerning his future destiny beyond the grave. For, they men- tion an indispensable requisite in order to an en- trance into eternal life. "Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he sJiall not enter therein."

The occasion of their utterance is interesting, and brings to view a beautiful feature in the per- fect character of Jesus Christ. The Redeemer was deeply interested in every age and condition of man. All classes shared in His benevolent affec- tion, and all may equally partake of the rich bless- ings that flow from it. But childhood and youth seem to have had a special attraction for Him. The Evangelist is careful to inform us, that He took little children in His arms, and that behold- ing an amiable young man He loved him, — a gush

380 CUPaSTIANITY EEQUIKES

of feeling went out towards liim. It was because Christ was a perfect man, as well as tlie infinite God, that sucli a feeling dwelt in His breast. For, there has never been an uncommonly ftiir and excellent human character, in which tenderness and affinity for childhood has not been a quality, and a quality, too, that was no small part of the fairness and excellence. The best definition that has yet been given of genius itself is, that it is the carrying of the feelings of childhood onward into the thoughts and aspirations of manhood. He who is not attracted by the ingenuousness, and trustful- ness, and simplicity, of the first period of human life, is certainly wanting in the finest and most delicate elements of nature, and character. Those who have been coarse and brutish, those who have been selfish and ambitious, those who have been the pests and scourges of the world, have had no sympathy with youth. Though once young themselves, they have been those in whom the gentle and generous emotions of the morning of life have died out. That man may become hard- hearted, skeptical and sensual, a hater of his kind, a hater of all that is holy and good, he must divest himself entirely of the fresh and ingenuous feeling of early boyhood, and receive in its place that malign and soured feeling which is the growth, and sign, of a selfish and disingenuous life. It is related of Voltaire, — a man in whom evil dwelt in its purest and most defecated essence,— that he

THE TEMPEK OF CIULDHOOD. 381

had no sympatliy with the child, and that the children uniformly shrank from that sinister eye in which the eagle and the reptile were so strange- ly blended.

Our Saviour, as a perfect man, then, possessed this trait, and it often showed itself in His inter- course with men. As an omniscient Being, He indeed looked with profound interest, upon the dawning life of the human spirit as it manifests itself in childhood. For He knew as no finite being can, the marvellous powers that sleep in the soul of the young child ; the great affections which are to be the foimdation of eternal bliss, or eter- nal pain, that exist in embryo within ; the myste- rious ideas that lie in germ far down in its lowest depths, — He knew, as no finite creature is able, what is in the child, as well as in the man, and therefore was interested in its being and its well- being. But besides this, by virtue of His perfect humanity. He was attracted by those peculiar traits which are seen in the earlier years of human life. He loved the artlessness and gentleness, the sense of dependence, the implicit trust, the absence of ostentation and ambition, the unconscious modesty, in one word, the child-likeness of the child.

Knowing this characteristic of the Redeemer,

certain parents brought their young children to

Him, as the Evangelist informs us, " that He should

touch them ; " either believing that there was a

healthful virtue, connected with the touch of Him 17*

382 CHRISTIANITY EEQUIRES

who healed the sick and gave life to the dead, that would be of benefit to them ; or, it may be, with more elevated conceptions of Christ's person, and more spiritual desires respecting the welfare of their offspring, believing that the blessing (which was symbolized by the touch and laying on of hands) of so exalted a Being would be of greater worth than mere health of body. The disciples, thinking that mere children were not worthy of the regards of their Master, rebuked the anxious and affectionate parents. " But," — continues the narrative, — " when Jesus saw it he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of God ; " and then immediately explained what He meant by this last assertion, which is so often misunderstood and misapplied, by adding, in the words of the text, " Verily I say unto you, whoso- ever shall not receive the hingdom of God as a little cliild^'' that is with a child-like spirit, " he shall not enter therein." For our Lord does not here lay down a doctrinal position, and affirm the moral innocence of childhood. He does not mark oft* and discriminate the children as sinless, from their pa- rents as sinful, as if the two classes did not belong to the same race of beings, and were not involved in the same apostasy and condemnation. He merelv sets childhood and manhood over-acainst each other as two distinct stages of human life, each possessing peculiar traits and tempers, and

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 383

affirms that it is the meek spirit of childhood, and not the proud spirit of manhood, that welcomes and appropriates the Christian salvation. He is only contrasting the general attitude of a child, with the general attitude of a man. He merely affirms that the trustful and helieving temper of childhood, as compared with the self-reliant and skeptical temper of manhood, is the temper by which both the child and the man are to receive the blessings of the gospel which both of them equally need.

The kingdom of God is represented in the New Testament, sometimes as subjective, and sometimes as objective ; sometimes as within the soul of man, and sometimes as up in the skies. Our text com- bines both representations ; for, it speaks of a man's " receiving " the kingdom of God, and of a man's " entering " the kingdom of God ; of the coming of heaven into a soul, and of the going of a soul into heaven. In other passages, one or the other repre- sentation appears alone. " The kingdom of God," — says our Lord to the Pharisees, — " cometh not with observation. Neither shall they say, Lo here, or lo there: for behold the kingdom of God is within you." The apostle Paul, upon arriving at Rome, invited the resident Jews to discuss the subject of Christianity with him. "And when they had appointed him a day, there came many to him into his lodging, to whom he expounded and testified the kingdom of God," — to whom he

384 CHEISTIAT^^ITY EEQUIRES

explained tlie nature of tlie Christian religion, — "persuading them concerning Jesus, both out of the law of Moses, and out of the prophets, from morning till evening." The same apostle teaches the Romans, that " the kingdom of God is not meat and drink ; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost ; " and tells the Corin- thians, that "the kingdom of God is not in Avord, but in power." In all these instances, the subject- ive signification prevails, and the kingdom of God is simply a system of truth, or a state of tlie heart. And all are familiar with the sentiment, that heaven is a state, as well as a place. All under- stand that one half of heaven is in the human heart itself; and, that if this half be Avanting, the other half is useless, — as the half of a thing gener- ally is. Isaac Walton remarks of the devout Sibbs :

" Of this blest man, let this just praise be given, Heaveu was in him, before he was in heaven."

It is only because that in the eternal world the imperfect righteousness of the renewed man is per- fected, and the peace of the anxious soul becomes total, and the joy that is so rai'e and faint in the Christian experience here upon earth becomes the very element of life and action, — it is only because eternity comi^letes the excellence of the Christian (but does not begin it), that heaven, as a place of perfect holiness and happiness, is said to be in the

THE TEMPEE OF CHILDHOOD. 385

future life, and we are commanded to seek a better country even a heavenly. But, because this is so, let no one lose sight o ' the other side of the great truth, and forget that man must " receive '' the king- dom as well as " enter " it. Without the rio-ht state of heart, without the mental correspondent to heaven, that beautiful and happy region on high will, like any and every other place, be a hell, in- stead of a paradise.^ A distinguished writer rep- resents one of his characters as leaving the Old World, and seeking happiness in the New, suppos- ing that change of place and outward circumstances could cure a restless mind. He found no rest by the change ; and in view of his disappointment says : " I will return, and in my ancestral home, amid my paternal fields, among my own people, I will say, Here^ or nowhere^ is America," ^ In like manner, must the Christian seek happiness in pres- ent peace and joy in the Holy Ghost, and must here in this life strive after the righteousness that brings tranquillity. Though he may look forward with as- piration to the new heavens and the new earth wherein dwelleth a perfected righteousness, yet he

' " Concerning the oLject of fe- essary to onr satisfying fruition,

licity in lieaven, we are agreed that without tliis we are no more

that it can he no other than the capahle thereof, than a brute of

blessed God himself, the all-corn- the festivities of a quaint oration,

prehending good, fully adequate or a stone of the relislies of the

to the highest and most enlarged most pleasant meats and drinks."

reasonable desires. Bntthecon- Howe: Heaven a State of Perfec-

temperation of our faculties to tion. the holy, blissful object, is so nec-

■^ GoKTHE : Wilhelm Meister, Book YII., ch. iii.

386 CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES

must remember that his holiness and happiness there is merely an expansion of his holiness and hap- piness here. He must seek to "receive" the king- dom of God, as well as to " enter " it ; and when tempted to relax his efforts, and to let down his watch, because the future life will not oppose so many obstacles to spirituality as this, and will bring a more perfect enjoyment with it, he should say to himself: '^ Be holy now, be happy here. Here, or Qioivliere. is heaven."

Such being the nature of the kingdom of God, we are now brought up to the discussion of the sub- ject of the text, and are prepared to consider : In what respects, the hingdom of God requires the tem- per of a child as distinguished from tJie temper of a man, in order to receive it, and in order to enter it.

The kingdom of God, considered as a kingdom that is within the soul, is tantamount to religion. To receive this kingdom, then, is equivalent to re- ceiving religion into the heart, so that the character shall be formed by it, and the future destiny be de- cided by it. What, then, is the religion that is to be received ? We answer that it is the religion that is needed. But, the religion that is needed by a sinful man is very different from the religion that is adapted to a holy angel. He who has never sinned is already in direct and blessed relations with God, and needs only to drink in the ovei^flow- iiig and evei-flowing stream of purity and pleasure. Such a spirit requires a religion of only two doc-

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 387

trines : First, that there is a God ; and, secondly, that He ought to be loved supremely and obeyed perfectly. This is the entire theology of the angels, and it is enough for them. They know nothing of sin in their personal experience, and consequently they require in their religion, none of those doc- trines, and none of those provisions, which are adapted to the needs of sinners.

But, man is in an altogether different condition from this. He too knows that there is a God, and that He ought to be loved supremely, and obeyed perfectly. Thus far, he goes along with the angel, and with every other rational being made under the law and government of God. But, at this j)oint, his path diverges froin that of the pure and obedi- ent inhabitant of heaven, and leads in an opposite direction. For he does not, like the angels, act up to his knowded2:e. He is not conformed to these two doctrines. He does not love God supremely, and he does not obey Him perfectly. This fact puts him into a very different position, in reference to these two doctrines, from that occupied by the obedient and unfallen spirit. These two doctrines, in relation to him as one who has contravened them, have become a power of condemnation ; and when- ever he thinks of them he feels guilty. It is no longer sufficient to tell him that religion consists in loving God, and enjoying His presence, — consists in lioliness and happiness. " This is very true," — he says, — " but I am neither holy nor happy." It is no

388 CIIRISTLINITY EEQUIRES

longer enoiigli to remind him that all is well with any creature who loves God with all his heart, and keeps His commandments without a single slip or failure. " This is very true," — he says again, — " but I do not love in this style, neither have I obeyed in this manner." It is too late to preach mere natural religion, the religion of the angels, to one who has failed to stand fully and firmly upon the principles of natural religion. It is too late to tell a creature who has lost his virtue, that if he is only virtuous he is safe enough.

Tlie religion, then, that a sinner needs, cannot be limited to the two doctrines of the holiness of God, and the creature's obligation to love and serve Him, — cannot be pared down to the precept : Fear God and practise virtue. It must be greatly enlarged, and augmented, by the introduction of that other class of truths which relate to the Divine mercy towards those who have not feared God, and the Divine method of salvation for those who are sinful. In other words, the reli<2:ion for a transiiTessor is re- vealed religion, or the religion of Atonement and Redemption.

What, now, is there in this species of religion that necessitates the meek and docile temper of a child, as distinguished from the proud and self-reli- ant spii'it of a man, in order to its reception into the heart ?

I. In the first place, the New Testament religion offers the forgiveiif,ss of sins, and provides for it.

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 389

No one can pouder tliis fact an instant, without perceiving that the pride and self-reliance of man- hood are excluded, and that the meekness and im- |)Iicit trust of childhood are demanded. Pardon and justification before God must, from the nature of the case, be a gift, and a gift cannot be obtained unless it is accepted as suck. To demand or claim mercy, is self-contradictory. For, a claim implies a personal ground for it ; and this implies self-reliance, and this is '' manhood " in distinction from " childhood." In coming, therefore, as the religion of the Cross does, before man with a gratuity, with an offer to pardon his sins, it supposes that he take a correspon- dent attitude. Were he sinless, the religion suited to him would be the mere utterance of law, and he might stand up before it with the serene brow of an obedient subject of the Divine government ; though even then, not with a proud and boastful temper. It would be out of place for him, to plead guilty when he was innocent ; or to cast himself upon mercy, when he could appeal to justice. If the creature's acceptance be of works, then it is no more of grace, otherwise work is no more work. But if it be by grace, then it is no more of works (Rom. xi. 6). If the very first feature of the Christian religion is the exhibition of clemency, then the proper and nec- essary attitude of one who receives it is that of liu- mility.

But, leaving this argument drawn from the char- acteristics of Christianity as a religion of Redemp-

390 CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES

tion, let us pass into tlie soul of man, and see what we are taught there, respecting the temper which he must possess in order to receive this new, re- vealed kingdom of God. The soul of man is guilty. Now, there is something in the very nature of guilt that excludes the proud, self-conscious, self-reliant spirit of manhood, and necessitates the lowly, and dependent spirit of childhood. When conscience is full of remorse, and the holy eye of law is search- ing us, and fears of eternal banishment and punish- ment are rakeing the spirit, there is no remedy but simple confession, and childlike reliance upon abso- lute mercy. The sinner must be a softened child and not a hard man, he must beg a boon and not put in a claim, if he would receive this kingdom of God, this New Testament religion, into liis soul. The slightest inclination to self-righteousness, the least degree of resistance to the just pressure of law, is a vitiating element in repentance. The muscles of the stout man must give way, the knees must bend, the hands must be uplifted deprecatingly, the eyes must gaze with a straining gaze upon the ' ex- piating Cross, — in other words, the least and last remains of a stout and self-asserting spirit must vanish, and the whole being must be pliant, bruised, broken, helpless in its state and condition, in order to a pure sense of guilt, a godly sorrow for sin, and a cordial aj)propriation of the atonement. The at- tempt to mix the two tempers, to mingle the child with the man, to confess sin and assert self-rigliteoua-

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 391

ness, must be an entire failure, and totally prevent the reception of the religion of Redemption. In relation to the Redeemer, the sinful soul should be a vacuum, a hollow void, destitute of everything holy and good, conscious that it is, and aching to be filled with the fulness of His peace and purity.

And with reference to God, the Being whose func- tion it is to pardon, we see the same necessity for this child-like spirit in the transgressor. How can God administer forgiveness, unless there is a correla- ted tem23er to receive it ? His particular declara- tive act in blotting out sin depends upon the exist- ence of penitence for sin. Where there is absolute hardness of heart, there can be no pardon, from the very nature of the case, and the very terms of the statement. Can God say to the hardened Judas : Son be of good cheer, thy sin is forgiven thee ? Can He speak to the traitor as He speaks to the Magdalen ? The difficulty is not upon the side of God. The Divine pity never lags behind any gen- uine human sorrow. No man was ever more eaeer to be forgiven than his Redeemer is to forgive him. No contrition for sin, upon the part of man, ever yet outran the readiness and delight of God to rec- ognize it, and meet it with a free pardon. For, that very contrition itself is always the product of Divine grace, and proves that God is in advance of the soul. The father in the parable saw the son while he was a great way off, before the son saw him, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. But while

392 CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES

tliis is SO, and is an encouragement to the penitent, it must ever Tje remembered tliat unless there is some genuine sorrow in the human soul, there can l)e no manifestation of the Divine forgiveness with- in it. Man cannot beat the air, and God cannot forgive impenitency.

II. In the second place, the New Testament relig- ion proposes to create within man a clean hearty and to renew within him a right spirit. Christianity not only pardons but sanctities the human soul. And in accomplishing this latter work, it requires the same humljle and docile temper that was demanded in the former instance.

Holiness, even in an unfallen angel, is not an ab- solutely self-originated thing. If it were, the angel would be worthy of adoration and worship. He who is inwardly and totally excellent, and can also say : I am what I am by my own ultimate author- ship, can claim for himself the glory that is due to righteousness. Any self-originated and self-subsist- ent virtue is entitled to the hallelujahs. But, no created spirit, though he be the highest of the arch- angels, can make such an assertion, or put in such a claim. The merit of the unfallen angel, therefore, is a relative one ; because his holiness is of a created and derived species. It is not increate and self-sub- sistent. This being so, it is plain that the proper attitude of all creatures in respect to moral excel- lence is a reci])i('nt and dependent one. But this is a meek and lowly attitude ; and this is, in one

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 39.i

sense, a child-like attitude. Our Lord knew no sin ; and yet He himself tells us that He was meek and lowly of heart, and we well know that He was. He does not say that He was penitent. He does not propose himself as our exemplar in that respect. But, in respect to the primal, normal attitude which a finite being must ever take in reference to the infi- nite and adorable Grod, and the absolute underived Holiness; in reference to the true temper which a holy man or a holy angel must possess ; our Lord Jesus Christ, in His human capacity, sets an exam- ple to be followed by the spirits of just men made perfect, and by all the holy inhabitants of heaven. In other words. He teaches the whole universe that holiness in a creature, ev^en though it be complete, does not permit its possessor to be self-reliant, does not allow the proud spirit of manhood, does not remove the obligation to be child-like, meek, and lowly of heart.

But if this is true of holiness amono: those who have never fallen, how much more true is it of those who have, and who need to be lifted up out of the abyss. If an angel, in reference to God, must be meek and lowly of heart; if the holy Redeemer must in His human capacity be meek and lowly of heart ; if the child-like temper, in reference to the infinite and everlasting Father and the absolutely Good, is the proper one in such exalted instances as these; how much more is it in the instance of the vile and a])Ostate children of Adam ! Besides

394 CHRISTIANITY REQUIRES

the original and piimitive reason growing out of creaturely relationships, there is the superadded one growing out of the fact, that now the whole head is sick and the whole heart is faint, and from the sole of the foot even unto the head there is no soundness in human nature.

Hence, our Lord began His Sermon on the Mount in these words : " Blessed are the poor in spirit ; for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Bless- ed are they that mourn; for they shall be com- forted. Blessed are the meek ; for they shall in- herit the earth. Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled." ^ The very opening of this discourse, which He intended should go down through the ages as a manifesto declaring the real nature of His king- dom, and the spirit which His followers must pos- sess, asserts the necessity of a needy, recipient, asking mind, upon the part of a sinner. All this phraseology implies destitution; and a des- titution that cannot be self-supplied. He who hungers and thirsts after righteousness is con- scious of an inward void, in respect to right- eousness, that must be filled from abroad. He who is meek is sensible that he is dependent for his moral excellence. He who is poor in spirit is, not pusillanimous as Thomas Paine charged upon Christianity but, as John of Damascus said

' Oorapare Isaiah Ixi, 1.

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 395

of himself, a man of spiritual cravings, vw desicle- riorum.

Now, all this delineation of the general attitude requisite in order to the reception of the Christian religion is summed up again, in the declaration of our text : " Whosoever shall not receive the kino:- dom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein." Is a man, then, sensible that his under- standing is darkened by sin, and that he is desti- tute of clear and just apprehensions of divine things ? Does his consciousness of inward poverty assume this form ? If he would be delivered from his mental blindness, and be made rich in spiritual knowledge, he must adopt a teachable and recip- ient attitude. He must not assume that his own mind is the great fountain of wisdom, and seek to clear up his doubts and darkness by the rational- istic method of self-illumination. On the contrary, he must go beyond his mind and open a booh, even the book of Revelation, and search for the wisdom it contains and proffers. And yet more than this. As this volume is the product of the Eternal Spirit himself, and this Spirit conspires with the doc- trines which He has revealed, and exerts a posi- tive illuminating influence, he must seek commu- nion therewith. From first to last, therefore, the darkened human spirit must take a waiting posture, in order to enlightenment. That part of "the clean heart and the right spirit" which consists in the hnoivJelge cf divine things can be obtained

396 CHRISTIANITY EEQUI11E3

only through a child-like bearing and temper. This is what our Lord means, when He pronounces a blessing upon the poor in sjiirit, the hungry and the thirsting soul. Men, in their pride and self- reliance, in their sense of manhood, may seek to enter the kingdom of heaven by a dilferent method ; they may attempt to specidate their way through all the mystery that overhangs human life, and the doubts that confuse and baffle the human under- standing ; l)ut when they find that the unaided intellect only " spets a thicker gloom " instead of pouring a serener ray, wearied and worn they re- turn, as it were, to tlie sweet days of childhood, and in the gentleness, and tenderness, and docility of an altered mood, learn, as Bacon did in respect to the kingdom of nature, that the kingdom of heaven is open only to the little child.

Again, is a man conscious of the corruption of his heart ? Has he discovered his alienation from the life and love of God, and is he now aware that a total change must pass upon him, or that alien- ation must be everlastins: ? Has he found out that his inclinations, and feelings, and tastes, and sympathies are so worldly, so averse from spiritual objects, as to be beyond his sovereignty ? Does he feel vividly that the attempt to expel this carnal mind, and to induce in the place thereof the heav- enly spontaneous glow of piety toAvards God and man, is })recisely like the attempt of the Ethiopian to change his skin, and the leopard his spots?

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 307

If this experience has been forced upon him, shall he meet it with the port and bearing of a strong man ? Shall he take the attitude of the old Roman stoic, and attempt to meet the exigencies of his moral condition, by the steady strain and hard tug of his own force ? He cannot long do this, under the clear searchino; ethics of the Sermon on the Mount, without an inexpressible weariness and a profound despair. Were he \^Tthin the sphere of paganism, it might, perhaps, be otherwise. A Marcus Aurelius could maintain this les-al and self- righteous position to the end of life, because his ideal of virtue was a very low one. Had that high- minded pagan felt the influences of Christian ethics, had the Sermon on the Mount searched his soul, telling him that the least emotion of pride, anger, or lust, was a breach of that everlasting law which stood grand and venerable before his philosophic eye, and that his virtue was all gone, and his soul was exposed to the inflictions of justice, if even a single thought of his heart was unconformed to the perfect rule of right, — if, instead of the mere twi- light of natural religion, there had flared into his mind the fierce and consuming splendor of the noon- day sun of revealed truth, and New Testament ethics, it would have been impossible for that seri- ous-minded emperor to say, as in his utter self-delu- sion he did, to the Deity : " Give me my dues," — in- stead of breathing the prayer : " Forgive me my debts." Christianity elevates the standard and

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398 CHEISTIAlS^rTY KEQUIRE3

raises the ideal of moral excellence, and thereby disturbs the self-complacent feeling of the stoic, and the moralist. If the law and rule of right is merely an outward one, it is possible for a man sincerely to suppose that he has kept the law, and his sin- cerity will be his ruin. For, in this case, he can maintain a self-reliant and a self-satisfied spirit, the spirit of manhood, to the very end of his earthly career, and go with his righteousness which is as filthy rags, into the presence of Him in whose sight the heavens are not clean. But, if the law and rule of right is seen to be an inward and spiritual statute, piercing to the dividing asunder of the soul and spirit, and becoming a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart, it is not possible for a can- did man to delude himself into the belief that he has perfectly obeyed it ; and iu this instance, that self-dissatisfied spirit, that consciousness of internal schism and bondage, that war between the flesh and the spirit so vividly portrayed in the seventh chap- ter of Romans, begins, and instead of the utterance of the moralist : " I have kept the everlasting law, give me my dues," there bursts forth the self-des- pairing cry of the penitent and the child : " O wretched man that I am ! who shall deliver me ? Father I have sinned as^ainst heaven and before thee."

When, therefore, the truth and Spirit of God, working in and with the natural conscience, have brought a man to that point where he sees that all

THE TEMPER OF CHILDHOOD. 399

Lis own righteousness is as filthy rags, and that the pure and stainless righteousness of Jehovah must become the possession and the characteristic of his soul, he is prepared to believe the- declaration of our text : " Whosoever shall not receive the king- dom of God as a little child, he shall not enter there- in." The new heart, and the right spirit, — the change, not in the mere external behavior but, in the very disposition and inclination of the soul, — ex- cludes every jot and tittle of self-assertion, every particle of proud and stoical manhood.

Such a text as this which we have been consider- ing is well adapted to put us upon the true method of attaining everlasting life. These few and simple words actually dropped, eighteen hundred years ago, from the lips of that august Being who is now seat- ed upon the throne of heaven, and who knows this very instant the effect which they are producing in the heart of every one who either reads or hears them. Let us remember that these few and simple words do verily contain the key to everlasting life and glory. In knowing what they mean, we know, ijifallibly, the way to heaven. " I tell you, that many prophets and kings have desired to see those things which we see, and have not seen them: and to hear those things which we hear, and have not heard them." How many a thoughtful pagan, in the centuries that have passed and gone, would in all probability have turned a most attentive ear, had he heard, as we do, from the lips of an unerring

400 CHRISTIANITY AND CHILDHOOD.

Teacher, that a child-like reception of a certain par- ticular truth, — and that not recondite and metaphys- ical, but simple as childhood itself, and to be received by a little child's act, — would infallibly conduct to the elysium that haunted and tantalized him.

That which hinders us is our pride, our " man- hood." The act of faith is a child's act ; and a child's act, though intrinsically the easiest of any, is relatively the most difficult of all. It implies the surrender of our self-will, our self-love, our proud manhood ; and never was a truer remark made than that of Ullmann, that " in no one thing is the strength of a man's will so manifested, as in his having no will of his own." ^ " Christianity," — says Jeremy Taylor, — " is the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. It is like a secret in arithmetic ; infi- nitely hard till it be found out by a right operation, and then it is so plain we wonder we did not under- stand it earlier." How hard, how impossible with- out that Divine grace which makes all such central and revolutionary acts easy and genial to the soul, — how hard it is to cease from our own works, and really become docile and recipient children*, believ- ing on the Lord Jesus Christ, and trusting in Him, simply and solely, for salvation.

* Ullmann : Sinlessness of Jesu3, Pt, I., Ch. iii., § 2.

FAITH THE SOLE SAYING ACT

John vi. 28, 29. — " Then said they unto him, "What shall we do, that we might work the works of God ? Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent."

If asking tlieir question, the Jews intended to inquire of Christ what particular things they must do, before all others, in order to please God. The " works of God," as they denominate them, were not any and every duty, but those more special and im- portant acts, by which the creature might secure the Divine approval and fevor. Our Lord under- stood their question in this sense, and in His reply tells them, that the great and only work for them to do was to exercise faith in Him. They had em- ployed the plural number in their question ; but in His answer He employs the singular. They had asked, " What shall we do that we might work the works of God, — as if there were several of them. His reply is, " This is the ivork of God, that ye be- lieve on Him whom He hath sent." He narrows down the terms of salvation to a single one ; and makes the destiny of the soul to depend upon the

402 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

performance of a particular individual act. In this, as in many other incidental ways, our Lord teaches His own divinity. If He were a mere creature ; if He were only an iusj^ired teacher like David or Paul ; how would He dare, when asked to give in a single word the condition and means of human salvation, to say that they consist in resting the soul upon Him ? Would David have dared to say : " This is the work of God, — this is the saving act, — that ye believe in me ? " Would Paul have pre- sumed to say to the anxious inquirer : " Your soul is safe, if you trust in me ? " But Christ makes this declaration, without any qualification. Yet He was meek and lowly of heart, and never assumed an honor or a prerogative that did not belong to Him. It is only upon the supposition that He was " very God of very God," the Divine Redeemer of the chil- dren of men, that we can justify such an answer to such a question.

The belief is spontaneous and natural to man, that something must be done in order to salvation. No man expects to reach heaven by inaction. Even the indifferent and supine soul expects to rouse it- self up at some future time, and work out its salva- tion. The most thoughtless and inactive man, in religious respects, will acknowledge that thought- lessness and inactivity if continued will end in per- dition. But he intends at a future day to think, and act, and be saved. So natural is it, to every man, to believe in salvation by works; so ready is

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 403

every one to concede that heaven is reached, and hell is escaped, only by an earnest effort of some kind ; so natural is it to every man to ask with these Jews, " What shall we do^ that we may work the works of God?"

But mankind generally, like the Jews in the days of our Lord, are under a delusion respecting the nature of the work which must be performed in or- der to salvation. And in order to understand this delusion, we must first examine the common notion upon the subject.

When a man begins to think of God, and of his own relations to Him, he finds that he owes Him service and obedience. He has a work to perform, as a subject of the Divine government ; and this work is to obey the Divine law. He finds himself obligated to love God wdth all his heart, and his neighbor as himself, and to discharge all the duties that spring out of his relations to God and man. He perceives that this is the " work " given him to do by creation, and that if he does it he will attain the true end of his existence, and be happy in time and eternity. When therefore he begins to think of a religious life, his first spontaneous impulse is to l)egin the performance of this work which he has hitherto neglected, and to reinstate himself in the Divine favor by the ordinary method of keeping the law of God. He perceives that this is the mode in which the angels preserve themselves holy and Ii:i]:'})y ; that this is the oiiginal mode appointed by

404 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

God, wLen He established tlie covenant of works ; and lie does not see why it is not the method for him. The law expressly affirms that the man that doeth these things shall liv^e by them ; he proposes to take the law just as it reads, and just as it stands, — to do the deeds of the law, to j)erform the works which it enjoins, and to live by the service. This we say, is the common notion, natural to man, of the species of work which must be performed in or- der to eternal life. This was the idea which filled the mind of the Jews when they put the question of the text, and received for answer from Christ, "This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent." Our Lord does not draw out the whole truth, in detail. He gives only the posi- tive part of the answer, leaving His hearers to infer the negative part of it. For the whole doctrine of Christ, fully stated, would run thus : " No work of the hind of which you are tldnldng can save you ; no obedience of the law, ceremonial or moral, can reinstate you in right relations to God. I do not summon you to the performance of any such service as that which you have in mind, in order to your justification and acceptance before the Divine tribu- nal. This is the work of God, — this is the sole and single act w^hich you are to perform, — namely, that you helieve on Him whom He hath sent as a pro- pitiation for sin. I do not sununon you to works of the law, but to faith in Me the Redeemer. Your first duty is not to attempt to acquire a righteous-

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 405

ness in tLe old method, by doing something of yourselves, but to receive a righteousness in the new method, by trusting in what another has done for you."

I. What is the ground and reason of such an an- swer as this ? Why is man invited to the method of faith in another, instead of the method of faith in himself? Why is not his first spontaneous thought the true one ? Why should he not obtain eternal life by resolutely proceeding to do his duty, and keeping the law of God ? Why can he not be saved by the law of works ? Why is he so summarily shut up to the law of faith ?

We answer: Because it is too late for him to adopt the method of salvation by works. The law is indeed explicit in its assertion, that the man that doeth these things shall live by them ; but then it supposes that the man begin at the beginning. A subject of government cannot disobey a civil statute for five or teu. years, and then put himself in right relations to it again, by obeying it for the remain- der of his life. Can a man who has been a thief or an adulterer for twenty years, and then jiractises honesty and purity for the following thirty years, stand up before the seventh and eighth command- ments and be acquitted by them ? It is too late for any being who has violated a law even in a sin- gle instance, to attempt to be justified .by that law. For, the law demands and supposes that obedience begin at the very heginning of existence, and con-

18*

406 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

tinue down tminterruptedly to the end of it. No man can come in at tlie middle of a process of obe- dience, any more than he can come in at the last end of it, if he proposes to be accepted upon the ground of obedience. " I testify,'' says St. Paul, " to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the wliole law " (Gal. v. 3). The whole, or none, is the just and inexorable rule which law lays down in the matter of justification. If any subject of the Divine government can show a clean record, from the beginning to the end of his existence, the statute says to him, " Well done," and gives him the reward which he has earned. And it gives it to him not as a matter of grace, but of debt. The law never makes a present of wages. It never pays out wages, until they are earned, — fairly and fully earned. But when a perfect obedience from first to last is rendered to its claims, the compensation follows as matter of debt. The law, in this instance, is itself brought under obligation. .It owes a re- ward to the perfectly obedient subject of law, and it considers itself his debtor until it is paid. " Now to him that worketh, is the reward not reckoned of grace, but of debt. If it be of works, then it is no more grace : otherwise work is no more work " (Rom. iv. 4 ; xi. 6) .

But, on the other hand, law is equally exact and inflexible, in case the work has not been performed. It will not give eternal life to a soul that has sin- ned ten years, and then perfectly obeyed ten years,

FAITJI THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 407

— supposing that there is any such soul. The obe- dience, as we have remarked, must run parallel with the entire existence, in order to be a ground of jus- tification. Infancy, childhood, youth, manhood, old age, and then the whole immortality that succeeds, must all be uuintermittently sinless and holy, in order to make eternal life a matter of debt. Jus- tice is as exact and punctilious upon this side, as it is upon the othei'. We have seen, that w^hen a perfect obedience has been rendered, justice will not palm off the wages that are due as if they were some gracious gift ; and on the other hand, when a perfect obedience has not been rendered, it will not be cajoled into the bestowment of wages as if they had been earned. There is no principle that is so intelligent, so upright, and so exact, as justice; and no creature can expect either to warp it, or to cir- cumvent it.

In the light of these remarks, it is evident that it is too late for a sinner to avail himself of the method of salvation by works. For, that method requires that sinless obedience begin at the beginning of his existence, and never be interrupted. But no man thus begins, and no man thus continues. " The wick- ed are estranged from the wo.mb ; they go astray as soon as they be born, speaking lies " (Ps. Iviii. "3). Man comes into the world a sinful and alien- ated creature. He is by nature a child of wrath (Eph. ii. 3). Instead of beginning life with holi- ness, he begins it with sin. His heart at birth is

408 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

apostate iiud corrupt; and Lis conduct from the very first is contrary to law. Such is the teaching of Scripture, such is the statement of the Creeds, and such is the testimony of consciousness, respect- ing the character which man brings into the world with him. The very dawn of human life is cloud- ed with depravity ; is marked by the carnal mind which is at enmity with the law of God, and is not subject to that law, neither indeed can be. How is it possible, then, for man to attain eternal life by a method that supposes, and requires, that the very dawn of his being be holy like that of Christ's, and that every thought, feeling, purpose, and act be conformed to law through the entire existence ? Is it not too late for such a creature as man now is to adopt the method of salvation by the works of the law ?

But we will not crowd you, with the doctrine of native depravity and the sin in Adam. We have no doubt that it is the scriptural and true doctrine concerning human nature ; and have no fears that it will be contradicted by either a profound self- knowledge, or a profound metaphysics. But per- haps you are one who doubts it ; and therefore, for the sake of argument, we will let you set the com- mencement of sin where you please. If you tell us that it begins in the second, or the fourth, or the tenth year of life, it still remains true that it is too late to employ the method of justification by works. If you concede any sin at all, at any point whatso-

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 409

ever, in the history of a human soul, you preclude it from salvation by the deeds of the law, and shut it up to salvation by grace. Go back as far as you can in your memory, and you must acknowledge that you find sin as far as you go ; and even if, in the face of Scrij)ture and the symbols of the Church, you should deny that the sin runs back to birth and apostasy in Adam, it still remains true that the first years of your conscious existence were not years of holiness, nor the first acts which you re- 'niemhei\ acts of obedience. Even upon your own theory, you begin with sin, and therefore you can- not be justified by the law.

This, then, is a conclusive reason and ground for the declaration of our Lord, that the one great work which every fallen man has to perform, and must perform, in order to salvation, is faith in anotlier''s work, and confidence in anotlier''s righteousness. If man is to be saved by his own righteousness, that righteousness must begin at the very beginning of his existence, and go on without interruption. If he is to be saved by his own good works, there nev- er must be a single instant in his life when he is not working such works. But beyond all controversy such is not the fact. It is, therefore, impossible for him to be justified by trusting in himself; and the only possible mode that now remains, is to trust in another.

II. And this brings us to the second pai't of our subject. *'This is the work of God, that ye believe

410 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

on him whom He hath sent." It will be observed that faith is here denominated a '' work." And it is so indeed. It is a mental act ; and an act of the most comprehensive and energetic species. Faith is an active principle that carries the whole man with it, and in it, — head and heart, will and affec- tions, body soul and spirit. There is no act so all- embracing in its reach, and so total in its momentum, as the act of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. In this sense, it is a " work." It is no supine and torpid thing ; but the most vital and vigorous activity that can be conceived of When a sinner, moved by the Holy Ghost the very source of spiritual life and en- ergy, casts himself in utter helplessness, and with all his weight, ujwn his Redeemer for salvation, never is he more active, and never does he do a greater work.

And yet, faith is not a work in the common sig- nification of the word. In the Pauline Epistles, it is generally opposed to works, in such a way as to exclude them. For example : " Where is boasting then ? It is excluded. By what law ? of works ? Nay, but by the law of faith. Therefore we con- clude that a man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law. Knowing that a man is not jus- tified by the works of the law but by the faith of Jesus Christ, ev^en we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ and not by the works of the law. Re- ceived ye the Spirit, by the works of the law, or

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 411

by the hearing of faith ? " ^ In these and other passages, faith and works are directly contrary to each other ; so that in this connection, faith is not a " work." Let us examine this point, a little in detail, for it will throw light upon the subject under discussion.

In the opening of the discourse, we alluded to the fact that when a man's attention is directed to the subject of his soul's salvation, his first spontaneous thought is, that he must of himself render some- thing to God, as an offset for his sins ; that he must perform his duty by his own power and effort, and thereby acquire a personal merit before his Maker and Judge. The thought of appropriating another person's work, of making use of what another being has done in his stead, does not occur to him ; or if it does, it is repulsive to him. His thought is, that it is his own soul that is to be saved, and it is his own work that must save it. Hence, he begins to perform religious duties in the ordinary use of his own faculties, and in his own strength, for the pur- pose, and with the expectation, of settling tlj^e ac- count which he knows is unsettled between himself and his Judge. As yet, there is no faith in another Beius::. He is not trustinc; and restino; in another person ; but he is trusting and resting in himself. He is not making use of the work or services which another has wrought in his behalf, but heisemploy-

' Romans iii. 27, 28 ; Galatians ii. 16, iii. 2.

412 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

ing his own powers and faculties, in performing these his own works, which he owes, and which, if paid in this style, he thinks will save his soul. This is the sj)*^^^^"^^^s, and it is the correct, idea of a " work," — of what St. Paul so often calls a " work of the law." And it is the exact contrary of fxith.

For, faith never does anything in this independ- ent and self-reliant manner. It does not perform a service in its own strength, and then hold it out to (lod as something for Him to receive, and for which He must pay back wages in the form of remitting sin and bestowing haj^piness. Faith is wholly oc- cupied with another's work, and anoiher'^s merit. The believing soul deserts all its own doings, and betakes itself to what a third person has wrought for it, and in its stead. When, for illustration, a sinner discovers that he owes a satisfaction to Eternal Justice for the sins that are past, if he adopts the method of works, he will offer up his endeavors to obey the law, as an offset, and a reason why he should be forgiven. He will say in his heart, if he does not in his prayer : " I am striving to atone for the past, by doing my duty in the future ; my reso- lutions, my prayers and alms-giving, all this hard stru2:o:le to be better and to do better, oucrht cer- tainly to avail for my pardon." Or, if he has been educated in a superstitious Church, he will offer up his penances, and mortifications, and pilgrimages, as a satisfaction to justice, and a reason why he

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 413

'sliould be forgiven and made blessed forever in heaven. That is a very instructive anecdote which St. Simon relates respecting the last hours of the profligate Louis XIV. " One day," — he says, — " the king recovering from loss of consciousness asked his confessor, Pere Tellier, to give him absolution for all his sins. Pere Tellier asked him if he suffei-ed much. ' No,' replied the king, ' that's what troubles me. I should like to sufter more, for the expiation of my sins.' " Here was a poor mortal who had spent his days in carnality and transgression of the pure law of Grod. He is conscious of guilt, and feels the need of its atonement. And now, upon the very edge of eternity and brink of doom, he pro- poses to make his own atonement, to be his own re- deemer and save his own soul, by offering up to the eternal nemesis that was racking his conscience a few hours of finite suffering, instead of betaking himself to the infinite passion and agony of Calvary. This is a " work ; " and, alas, a " dead work," as St. Paul so often denominates it. This is the method of justification by works. But when a man adopts the method of justification by faith, his course is exactly opposite to all this. Upon discovering that he owes a satisfaction to EternalJustice for the sins that are past, instead of holding up his prayers, or alms-giving, or penances, or moral efforts, or any- work of his own, he holds up the sacrificial work of Christ. In his prayer to God, he interposes the agon}' and death of the Great Substitute between

4U

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT

bis guilty soul, and the arrows of justice.^ He- knows that the very best of his own works, that even the most perfect obedience that a creature could render, -would be pierced through and through

' The relifrious teacher is often asked to define the act of faith, and explain the way and manner in wliicli tlie soul is to exercise it. '•'•How shall I believe?" is the question with which the anx- ious mind often replies to the gos- pel injunction to believe. With- out pretending that it is a com- plete answer, or claiming that it is possible, in the strict meaning of the word, to explain so simple and so profound an act as faith, we think, nevertheless, that it assists the inquiring mind to say, that whoever asTcs in prayer for any one of the benefits of Christ's redemption, in so far exercises faith in this redemption. Who- ever, for example, lifts up the supplication, "O Lamb of God wlio takest away the sins of the world, grant me thy peace," in this prayer puts faitli in the atone- ment. He trusts in the atone- ment, by 2)leadi)ig the atonement, ■ — by mentioning it, in his suppli- cation, as the reason why he may oe forgiven. In like manner, he who asks for the i-enewing and sanctifying influences of the Holy Ghost exercises faiih in tliese in- fluences. This is the mode in which he expresses his confidence in the power of God to accom- plish a work in his heart that is beyond his own power. What- ever, tlierefore, bo tlie particular benefit in Christ's redemption that one would trust in, and there- by make personally liis own, tliat lie may live by it and be blest by ir,— lie it the atoning blood, or be it rhc indwelling Spirit, — let him

asTc for that benefit. If he would trust in the thing, let him ask /'or the thing.

Since writing the above, wo have met with a corroboration of this view, by a writer of the high- est authority upon such points. " Faith is that inward sense and act, of which prayer is the ex- 2)ressio7i ; as is evident, because in the same manner as the freedom of grace, according to the gospel covenant, is often set forth by this, that he that helieves^ receives ; so it also oftentimes is by this, that he that asks, or prays, or calls itpon God, receives. ' Ask and it shall be given yon ; seek and ye shall find ; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh, receiveth ; and he that seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it shall be opened. And all things whatso- ever ye shall ash in prayer, 'believ- ing, ye shall receive (Matt. vii. 7, '8; Mark xi. 24). If ye abide in me and my words abide in you, ye shall asl- what ye will, and it shall be done untc you" (John xv. Y). Prayer is often phiinly spoken of as the expression of faith. As it very certainly is in Romans x. 11-14: 'For the Scripture saith, Whosoever ielieveth on him shall not be ashamed. For there is no dilVerence between the Jew and the Greek : for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him; for whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. How then shall they call on him ia whom they Jiave not believed.'' Christian pray-

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 415

"by the glittering shafts of violated law. And there- fore he takes the " shield of faith." . He places the oblation of the God-man,— not his own work and not his own suffering, but another's work and an- other's suffering,— between himself and the judicial vengeance of the Most High. And in so doing, he works no work of his own, and no dead w^ork ; but he works the "work of God;" he helieves on Him whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation for his sins, and not for his only but for the sins of the whole world.

This then is the great doctrine which our Lord taught the' Jews, when they asked Him what par- ticular thing or things they must do in order to eternal life. The apostle John, who recorded the answer of Christ in this instance, repeats the doc- trine again in his first Epistle : " Whatsoever we ask, we receive of Him, because we keep His com- mandment, and do those things that are pleasing in His sight. And this is His commandment, that we should helieve on the name of His Son Jesus Christ" (1 John iii. 22, 23). The whole duty of sinful man is here summed up, and concentrated, in the duty to trust in another person than himself,

er is called the prayer o? faith well be used for prayer also ; sncli

rjanies v 15). ' I will that men as coming to God or Cliribt, ana

everywhere lift up holv hands, looking to Him. 'In whom we

without wrath and douhting (1 have boldness and_ access with

Tim ii 8) Draw near in full confidence, by the, faitli ot liim

assurance of >i<A'(Heb.x. 22). Eph. iii. 12)." Edwards : Ob-

Tlie same expressions that are servations concerning inutu. ustid, in Scripture, for faith, may

41G FA-mi THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

and in another work than his own. The apostle, like his Lord before him, employs the singular num- ber : " This is His commandment," — as if there were no other commandment upon record. And this corresponds with the answer which Paul and Silas gave to the despairing jailor : " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ," — do this one single thing, — " and thou shalt be saved." And all of these teachings accord with that solemn declaration of our Lord : " He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life ; and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him." In the matter of salvation, where there is faith in Christ, there is everything ; and where there is not faith in Christ, there is nothing.

1. And it is with this thought that we would close this discourse, and enforce the doctrine of the text. Do whatever else you may in the matter of religion, you have done nothing until you have be- lieved on the Lord Jesus Christ, whom God hath sent into the world to be the propitiation for sin. There are two reasons for this. In the first place, it is the apjpointment and declaration of God^ that man, if saved at all, must be saved by faith in the Person and Work of the Mediator. " Neither is there sal- vation in any other : for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved" (Actsiv. 12). It of course rests entirely with the Most High God, to determine the mode and manner in which lie will enter into negotiations

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 41 7

with His creatures, and especially with His rebel- lious creatures. He must make the terms, and the creature must come to them. Even, therefore, if we could not see the reasonableness and adaptation of the method, we should be obligated to accept it. The creature, and particularly the guilty creature, cannot dictate to his Sovereign and Judge respecting the terms and conditions by which he is to be re- ceived into favor, and secure eternal life. Men overlook this fact, when they presume as they do, to sit in judgment upon the method of re- demption by the blood of atonement and to quar- rel with it.

In the first Punic wai', Hannibal laid siege to Sa- guntum, a rich and strongly-fortified city on the eastern coast of Spain. It was defended with a desperate obstinacy by its inhabitants. But the discipline, the energy, and the persistence of the Carthaginian army, were too much for them ; and just as the city was about to fall, Alorcus, a Span- ish chieftain, and a mutual friend of both of the contending parties, undertook to mediate between them. He proposed to the Saguntiues that they should surrender, allowing the Carthaginian general to make his own terms. And the aro;ument he used was this: "Your city is captured, in any event. Further resistance will only bring down upon you the rage of an incensed soldiery, and the horrors of a sack. Therefore, surrender immediately, and take whatever Hannibal shall please to give. You cannot

418 FAITH THE sole saving act.

lose {inythingby the procedure, and you may gain something, even though it be little." ^ Now, al- though there is no resemblance between the gov- ernment of the good and merciful God and the crSel purposes and conduct of a heathen warrior, and we shrink from bringing the two into any kind of juxtaposition, still, the advice of the wise Alor- cus to the Saguntines is good advice for every sin- ful man, in reference to his relations to Eternal Justice. We are all of us at the mercy of God. Should He make no terms at all ; had He never given His Son to die for our sins, and never sent His Spirit to exert a subduing influence upon our hard hearts, but had let guilt and justice take their inexorable course with us ; not a word could be ut- tered against the procedure by heaven, earth, or hell. No creature, anywhere can complain of jus- tice. That is an attribute that cannot even be at- tacked. But the All-Holy is also the All-Merciful. He has made certain terms, and has offered certain conditions of pardon, without asking leave of His creatures and without taking them into council, and were these terms as strict as Draco, instead of being as tender and pitiful as the tears and blood of Jesus, it would become us criminals to make no criticisms even in that extreme case, but accept them precisely as they were oflfered by the Sovereign and the Arbi- ter. We exhort you, therefore, to take these terms

' Livius : Ilistoiia. Lib. xxi. 12.

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 419

of salvation simply as they are given, asking no questions, and being thankful that there are any terms at all between the offended majesty of Heaven and the guilty criminals of earth. Believe on Him whom God hath sent, because it is the appoii-t* ment and declaration of God, that if guilty man is to be saved at all, he must be saved by faith in the Person and Work of the Mediator. The very dis- position to quarrel with this method implies arro- gance in dealing with the Most High. The least inclination to alter the conditions shows that the creature is attempting to criticise the Creator, and, what is yet more, that the criminal has no true per- ception of his crime, no sense of his exposed and helpless situation, and presumes to dictate the terms of his own pardon !

2. We might therefore leave the matter here, and there would be a suiRcient reason for exercising the act of faith in Christ. But there is a second and additional reason which we will also briefly urge upon you. Not only is it the Divine ap- pointment, that man shall be saved, if saved at all, by the substituted work of another ; but there are needs, there are crying wants, in the human con- science, that can be supplied by no other method. There is a perfect adaptation between the Ke- demption that is in Christ Jesus, and the guilt of sinners.. As we have seen, we could reasonably urge you to believe in Him whom God hath sent, simply because God has sent Him, and ]>ecause

420 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

He has told you that He will save you through no other name and in no other way, and will save you in this name and in this way. But we now urge you to the act of faith in this substituted work of Christ, because it has an atoning virtue, and can pacify a perturbed and angry conscience ; can wash out the stains of guilt that are grained into it ; can extract the sting of sin which ulcerates and burns there. It is the idea of expiation and satisfaction that we now single out, and press upon your notice. Sin must be expiated, — expiated either by the blood of the criminal, or by the blood of his Substitute. You must either die for your own sin, or some one who is able and willing must die for you. This is founded and fixed in the nature of God, and the nature of man, and the nature of sin. There is an eternal and necessary connection between crime and penalty. The wages of sin is death. But, all this inexorable necessity has been completely provided for, by the sacrificial work of the Son of God. In the gospel, God satis- fies His own justice for the sinner, and now offers you the full benefit of the satisfaction, if you will humbly and penitently accept it. " What compas- sion can equal the words of God the Father addressed to the sinner condemned to eternal punishment, and having no means of redeeming himself: 'Take my Only-Begotten Son, and make Him an offering for thyself; ' or the words of the Son : ' Take Me, and ransom thy soul ? ' For this is what both say, when

FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT. 421

they invite and draAv man to faith in the gospel." ' In urging you, therefore, to trust in Christ's vicarious sufferings for sin, instead of going down to hell and suffeiing foi' sin in your o\vn person ; in entreating you to escape the stroke of justice upon yourself, by believing in Him who was smitten in your stead, who " was wounded for your transgressions and bruised for j^our iniquities;" in beseeching you to let the Eternal Son of God be your Substi- tute in this awful judicial transaction ; we are sum- moning you to no ai-bitraiy and irrational act. The peace of God which it will introduce into your conscience, and the love of God which it will shed abroad through your soul, will be the most convincing of all proofs that the act of faith in the great Atonement does no violence to the ideas and principles of the human constitution. No act that contravenes those intuitions and convictions which are part and particle of man's nioival nature could possibly produce peace and joy. It would be revolutionary and anarchical. The soul could not rest an instant. And yet it is the uniform testimony of all l)e]ievers in the Lord Jesus Christ, that the act of simple confiding faith in His blood and righteousness is tlie most peaceful, the most joyful act tliey ever performed, — nay, that it was the first hles-s-ed experience they ever felt in this woi-ld of sin, this worhl of i-emorse, this world of

' Anselm: Oui- Dens IToiiio ? If. 20. 1!)

422 FAITH THE SOLE SAVING ACT.

fears and forebodings concerning judgment and doom.

Is the question, then, of the Jews, pressing upon your mind ? Do you ask, What one particular single thing shall I do, that I may be safe for time and eternity ? Hear the answer of the Son of God Himself: " This is the work of God, that ye believe on Him whom He hath sent."

SHEDD. — A History of Christian Doctrine. By William G. T. Shedd, D.D., Professor of Biblical Literature in Union Theological Seminary, New York. Two volumes, 8vo.

A new edition on tinted paper. Cloth $5 oo

This is a most elaborate and thoughtful work, by a philosophical Christian scholar. Although the first attempt of the kind in English literature, to write an account of the gradual construaion of all the dodrines of the Chris- tian religion, the author has produced a remarkable work. It is divided into seven books: i. Influence of Philosophical Systems ; 2. History of Apolo- gies ; 3. History of Theology (Trinitarianism and Christology) ; 4. History of Anthropology ; 5. of Soteriology ; 6. of Eschatology ; 7. of Symbols. It is a clear and able history, and will reward attentive study. The style is lucid and penetrating ; the discussions move onward according to the law of the subjeds themselves, as evoked in history ; and new light is thrown on past thought by pertinent illustration from subsequent times. No one can master these volumes without being strengthened and quickened. The History of Christian Doftrine thus conceived and composed, is one of the strongest of all defences of the Christian faith.

CRITICAL NOTICES. " Dr. Shedd has furnished an important contribution to the study of church history. To> have made a readable book— a book which must interest the general scholar as well as the- professed theologian— on a topic so difficult and so remote from the ordinary interests and literary currents of the time, is itself a rare and very great merit, demanding graceful recog- nition'from all the scholars of the land. And Dr. Shedd's is eminently a readable book, and' will, no doubt, be extensively read beyond the circle of his own profession, by intelUgent lay- men in all the walks of life."— A't^r/'/j Amerkan Review.

" It is many years since a more valuable contribution has been made, in this country or England, to theological literature ; one the study of which will yield riper fruits of Christian- knowledge. These volumes are marked by a thoroughness of knowledge and clearness of statement, as well as by a certain jy/Vri/ element which pervades them, and which shows the love of the author for his great theme, and that he takes his position, not without but within his subjea, and so relates the transformations and developments of religious thought as if he h.ad himself passed through them." — Bibliothecn. Sacra.

" We hold that this is the most important contribution that has been made to our theO^ logical literature during the present ^•ge.."— Presbyterian Standard.

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" In our judgment, no produftion of greater moment has been given to the public for a long time." — Princeton Rcz'iew.

•'A body of theological histor\' which is in form as perfeft as it is in substance excellent"- iV. Y. Evening Post.

" It well deser\-es an honorable and permanent place in the standard literature of theology. — New Englander.

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SbomUclic^.

OHEDD. — A Treatise on Homiletics and Pastor- ^ AL Theology. By William G. T. Shedd, D.D., author of the " History of Christian Doctrine." One volume, 8vo, tinted paper, cloth . . . . . . . . . . $2 50

This work consists of a series of leiSlures on the main points of Homiletics and Pastoral Theology. The author handles the subjeft in a fresh and mas- terly manner, and many of his thoughts are original, and highly suggestive. The Homiletical part is especially valuable to ministers, and those in train- ing for the ministry. Dr. Shedd's style is a model of purity, simplicity, and strength. For this and other reasons, the volume possesses value for the legal profession, and for all who enjoy the higher forms of literature.

CRITICAL NOTICES

"The work will be found to be an admirable guide and stimulus in whatever pert.iins to this department of theology. The student finds himself in the hands of a master able to quicken and enlarge his scope and spirit. The homiletical precepts are well illustrated by the author's own style, wliich is muscular, while quivering with nervous life. Nowadays one rarely reads such good English writing, elevated and clear, sinewy and flexible, transparent for the thought. Each topic is handled in a true progressive method. Our young ministers may well make a study of this book." — American Theol. Review.

"We have read, and with the profoundest interest, the whole of this remarkable br.r'-. We do not see how a minister can read it without finding himself perpetually incited to higher intelleftual and spiritual attainments, and perpetually impelled to intenser practical earnestness in preaching the Gospel. . . . To our view it is the ablest and the best of all which Dr. Shedd has written. It is equally remarkable for the range of its erudition, and for the keenness and thoroughness of its analysis — for its tendency to stimulate the intelleft, and to enlarge and intensify the moral purposes." — N. Y. Examiner.

" We have read this book with almost unqualified approval. We cannot but regard it as, on the whole, tlie very best produftion of the kind with which we are acquainted. The topics discussed are of the first importance to every minister of Christ engaged in a(5live service, and their discussion is condudled by earnestness as well as ability, and in a style which for clear, vigorous, and unexceptionable English, is itself a model. We doubt whether more good could be accomplished with the same means in any other way tlian by placing a copy of the work in the hands of every clergyman in the land." — JV. V. Evangelist.

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