THESE words diſcover the anxiety, not to ſay the fears of the writer, concerning the event of his perſonal ſalvation: and, when interpreted by the words which precede them, ſtrictly connect that event with the purity of his perſonal character.

It is extremely material to remember, who it was that felt this deep ſolicitude for the fate of his ſpiritual intereſts, and the perſuaſion, that his acceptance (inſofar as it is pro⯑cured by human endeavours) would depend upon the care and exactneſs, with which he regulated his own paſſions, and his own conduct: becauſe, if a man ever exiſted, who, in the [8] zeal and labour with which he ſerved the cauſe of religion, in the ardour or the efficacy of his preaching, in his ſufferings or his ſucceſs, might hope for ſome excuſe to indulgence, ſome li⯑cence for gratifications which were forbidden to others, it was the author of the text which has been now read to you. Yet the Apoſtle appears to have known, and by his knowledge teaches us, that no exertion of induſtry, no diſplay of talents, no public merit, however great, or however good or ſacred be the cauſe in which it is acquired, will compenſate for the ne⯑glect of perſonal ſelf-government.

This, in my opinion, is an important leſſon to all: to none, certainly, can it be more applicable, than it is in every age to the teachers of religion: for a little obſervation of the world muſt have informed us, that the human mind is prone, almoſt beyond reſiſtance, to ſink the weakneſs or the irregularities of private character in the view of public ſervices; that this pro⯑penſity is the ſtrongeſt in a man's own caſe; that it prevails more powerfully in religion than in other ſubjects, inaſmuch as the teachers of religion conſider themſelves (and rightly do ſo) as miniſtering to the higher intereſts of human exiſtence.

Still farther, if there be cauſes, as I believe there are, which raiſe extraordinary difficulties in the way of thoſe, who are engaged in the offices of religion; circumſtances even of diſ⯑advantage in the proſeſſion and character, as far as relates to [9] the conſervation of their own virtue; it behoves them to adopt the apoſtle's caution with more than common care, becauſe it is only to prepare themſelves for dangers, to which they are, more than commonly, expoſed.

Nor is there good reaſon for concealing, either from our⯑ſelves or others, any unfavourable diſpoſitions which the nature of our employment or ſituation may tend to generate: for, be they what they will, they only prove, that it happens to us, according to the condition of human life, with many benefits to receive ſome inconveniences; with many helps to experi⯑ence ſome trials; that with many peculiar motives to virtue, and means of improvement in it, ſome obſtacles are preſented to our progreſs, which it may require a diſtinct and poſitive effort of the mind to ſurmount.

I apprehend, that I am ſtating a cauſe of no inconſiderable importance, when, amongſt theſe impediments, I mention, in the firſt place, the inſenſibility to religious impreſſion, which a conſtant converſation with religious ſubjects, and, ſtill more, a conſtant intermixture with religious offices, is wont to in⯑duce. Such is the frame of the human conſtitution (and cal⯑culated alſo for the wiſeſt purpoſes) that, whilſt all active habits are facilitated and ſtrengthened by repetition, impreſſions under which we are paſſive, are weakened and diminiſhed. Upon the firſt of theſe properties depends in a great meaſure [10] the exerciſe of the arts of life; upon the ſecond, the capacity which the mind poſſeſſes of adapting itſelf to almoſt every ſituation. This quality is perceived in numerous, and, for the moſt part, beneficial examples. Scenes of terror, ſpectacles of pain, objects of loathing and diſguſt, ſo far loſe their effect with their novelty, as to permit profeſſions to be carried on, and conditions of life to be endured, which otherwiſe, although neceſſary, would be inſupportable. It is a quality however, which acts, as other parts of our frame do, by an operation which is general: hence it acts alſo in inſtances in which its influence is to be corrected; and, amongſt theſe, in religion. Every attentive chriſtian will have obſerved, how much more powerfully he is affected by any form of worſhip which is uncommon, than with the familiar returns of his own reli⯑gious offices. He will be ſenſible of the difference, when he approaches, a few times in the year, the ſacrament of the Lord's Supper; if he ſhould be preſent at the viſitation of the ſick; or even, if that were unuſual to him, at the ſight of a family aſſembled in prayer. He will perceive it alſo upon en⯑tering the doors of a diſſenting congregation; a circumſtance which has miſled many, by cauſing them to aſcribe to ſome advantage in the conduct of public worſhip, what, in truth, is only the effect of new impreſſions. Now, by how much a lay frequenter of religious worſhip finds himſelf leſs warmed [11] and ſtimulated by ordinary than by extraordinary acts of devo⯑tion, by ſo much, it may be expected, that a clergyman, ha⯑bitually converſant with the offices of religion, will be leſs moved and ſtimulated than he is. What then is to be done? It is by an effort of reflection; by a poſitive exertion of the mind; by knowing this tendency, and by ſetting ourſelves ex⯑preſsly to reſiſt it, that we are to repair the decays of ſponta⯑neous piety. We are no more to ſurrender ourſelves to the mechaniſm of our frame, than to the impulſe of our paſſions. We are to aſſiſt our ſenſitive, by our rational nature. We are to ſupply this infirmity (for ſo it may be called, although like many other properties, which bear the name of vices in our conſtitution, it be, in truth, a beneficial principle acting ac⯑cording to a general law)—we are to ſupply it, by a deeper ſenſe of the obligations under which we lie; by a more fre⯑quent and a more diſtinct recollection of the reaſons upon which that obligation is founded. We are not to wonder at the pains which this may coſt us: ſtill leſs, are we to imitate the deſpondency of ſome ſerious chriſtians, who, in the im⯑paired ſenſibility that habit hath induced, bewail the coldneſs of a deſerted ſoul.

Hitherto our obſervation will not be queſtioned: but I think that this principle goes farther than is generally known or ac⯑knowledged. I think that it extends to the influence, which [12] argument itſelf poſſeſſes upon our underſtanding; or at leaſt to the influence which it poſſeſſes in determining our will. I will not ſay, that in a ſubject ſtrictly intellectual, and in ſcience properly ſo called, a demonſtration is the leſs convincing for being old: but I am not ſure, that this is not, in ſome mea⯑ſure, true of moral evidence and probable proofs. In practical ſubjects however, where two things are to be done, the under⯑ſtanding to be convinced, and the will to be perſuaded, I be⯑lieve that the force of every argument is diminiſhed by triteneſs and familiarity. The intrinſic value of the argument muſt be the ſame; the impreſſion may be very different.

But we have a diſadvantage to contend with, additional to this. The conſequence of repetition will be felt more ſenſibly by us, who are in the habit of directing our arguments to others: for it always requires a ſecond, a ſeparate, and an unuſual effort of the mind, to bring back the concluſion upon ourſelves. In conſtructing, in expreſſing, in delivering our arguments; in all the thoughts and ſtudy which we employ upon them, what we are apt to hold continually in our view, is the effect which they may produce upon thoſe who hear or read them. The further and beſt uſe of our meditations, their influence upon our own hearts and conſciences, is loſt in the preſence of the other. In philoſophy itſelf, it is not always the ſame thing, to ſtudy a ſubject, in order to under⯑ſtand, [13] and in order only to teach it. In morals and religion, the powers of perſuaſion are cultivated by thoſe whoſe em⯑ployment is public inſtruction; but their wiſhes are fulfilled, and their care exhauſted, in promoting the ſucceſs of their en⯑deavours upon others. The ſecret duty, of turning truly and in earneſt their attention upon themſelves, is ſuſpended, not to ſay forgotten, amidſt the labours, the engagements, the po⯑pularity of their public miniſtry; and, in the beſt diſpoſed minds, is interrupted, by the anxiety, or even by the ſatiſ⯑faction, with which their public ſervices are performed.

Theſe are dangers adhering to the very nature of our pro⯑feſſion: but the evil is often alſo augmented by our im⯑prudence. In our wiſhes to convince, we are extremely apt to overſtate our arguments. We think no confidence, with which we ſpeak of them, can be too great, when our intention is to urge them upon our hearers. This zeal, not ſeldom, I believe, defeats its own purpoſe, even with thoſe whom we addreſs; but it always deſtroys the efficacy of the argument upon ourſelves. We are conſcious of the exaggeration, whe⯑ther our hearers perceive it or not: and this conſciouſneſs corrupts to us the whole influence of the concluſion; robs it even of its juſt value. Demonſtration admits of no degrees: but real life knows nothing of demonſtration. It converſes only with moral evidence and moral reaſoning. In theſe, the [14] ſcale of probability is extenſive; and every argument hath its place in it. It may not be quite the ſame thing to overſtate a true reaſon, and to advance a falſe one: but ſince two queſtions preſent themſelves to the judgement, uſually joined together by their nature and importance, viz. on which ſide probability lies, and how much it preponderates; to tranſgreſs the rules of fair reaſoning in either queſtion; in either to go beyond our own perception of the ſubject, is a ſimilar, if not an equal fault. In both caſes it is a want of candour, which approaches to a want of veracity. But that, in which its worſt effect is ſeen; that, at leaſt, which it belongs to this diſ⯑courſe to notice, is in its ſo undermining the ſolidity of our proofs, that our own underſtandings refuſe to reſt upon them; in vitiating the integrity of our own judgements; in render⯑ing our minds, as well incapable of eſtimating the proper ſtrength of moral and religious arguments, as unreaſonably ſuſpicious of their truth, and dull and inſenſible to their im⯑preſſion.

If dangers to our character accompany the exerciſe of our public miniſtry, they no leſs attend upon the nature of our profeſſional ſtudies. It has been ſaid, that literary trifling upon the ſcriptures has a tendency, above all other employments, to harden the heart. If by this maxim it be deſigned, to reprove the exerciſe, to check the freedom, or to queſtion the utility, [15] of critical reſearches when employed upon the ſacred volume, it is not by me to be defended. If it mean ſimply to guard us againſt an exiſting danger, to ſtate an uſual and natural con⯑ſequence, the maxim wants neither truth nor uſe. It is founded in this obſervation: when any one, by the command of learn⯑ing and talents, has been fortunate enough to clear up an ob⯑ſcurity, or to ſettle a doubt in the interpretation of ſcripture; pleaſed (and juſtly pleaſed) with the reſult of his endeavours, his thoughts are wont to indulge this complacency, and there to ſtop: or when another, by a patient application of inferior faculties, has made, as he thinks, ſome progreſs in theological ſtudies; or even has with much attention engaged in them; he is apt to reſt and ſtay in what he deems a religious and meritorious ſervice. The critic and the commentator do not always proceed with the reflection, that, if theſe things be true, if this book do indeed convey to us the will of God, then is it no longer to be ſtudied and criticiſed alone, but, what is a very different work, to be obeyed, and to be acted upon. At leaſt, this ulterior operation of the mind, enfeebled perhaps by former exertions of quite another nature, does not always retain ſufficient force and vigor to bend the obſtinacy of the will. To deſcribe the evil, is to point out the remedy; which muſt conſiſt in holding ſteadfaſtly within our view this momentous conſideration, that, however laboriouſly, or how⯑ever [16] ſucceſsfully, we may have cultivated religious ſtudies; howmuchſoever we may have added to our learning or our fame, we have hitherto done little for our ſalvation: that a more arduous, to us perhaps a new, and, it may be, a painful work, which the public eye ſees not, which no public favour will reward, yet remains to be attempted; that of inſtituting an examination of our hearts and of our conduct, of altering the ſecret courſe of our behaviour, of reducing, with whatever violence to our habits, loſs of our pleaſures, or interruption of our purſuits, its deviations to a conformity with thoſe rules of life, which are delivered in the volume that lies open before us; and which, if it be of importance enough to deſerve our ſtudy, ought, for reaſons infinitely ſuperior, to command our obedience.

Another diſadvantage, incidental to the character of which we are now expoſing the dangers, is the moral debility that ariſes from the want of being trained in the virtues of active life. This complaint belongs not to the clergy as ſuch, becauſe their paſtoral office affords as many calls, and as many oppor⯑tunities, for beneficent exertions, as are uſually found in private ſtations; but it belongs to that ſecluded contemplative life, which men of learning often make choice of, or into which they are thrown by the accident of their fortunes. A great part of mankind owe their principles to their practice; that [17] is, to that wonderful acceſſion of ſtrength and energy, which good diſpoſitions receive from good actions. It is difficult to ſuſtain virtue by meditation alone: but let our concluſions only have influence enough, once to determine us upon a courſe of virtue, and that influence will acquire ſuch aug⯑mentation of force from every inſtance of virtuous endeavour, as, ere long, to produce in us conſtancy and reſolution, a formed and a fixed character. Of this great and progreſſive aſſiſtance to their principles, men who are withdrawn from the buſineſs, and the intercourſe of civil life, find themſelves in ſome meaſure deprived. Virtue in them is left, more than in others, to the dictates of reaſon; to a ſenſe of duty leſs aided by the power of habit. I will not deny that this difference renders their virtue more pure, more actual, and nearer to its principle; but it renders it leſs eaſy to be attained or pre⯑ſerved.

Having propoſed theſe circumſtances, as difficulties of which I think it uſeful that our order ſhould be appriſed; and as growing out of the functions of the profeſſion, its ſtudies, or the ſituations in which it places us; I proceed, with the ſame view, to notice a turn and habit of thinking, which is of late become very general amongſt the higher claſſes of the commu⯑nity, amongſt all who occupy ſtations of authority, and, in common with theſe two deſcriptions of men, amongſt the [18] clergy. That which I am about to animadvert upon, is, in its place, and to a certain degree, undoubtedly a fair and right conſideration; but, in the extent to which it prevails, has a tendency to diſcharge from the hearts of mankind all religious principle whatever. What I mean, is the performing of our religious offices for the ſake of ſetting an example to others; and the allowing of this motive ſo to take poſſeſſion of the mind, as to ſubſtitute itſelf into the place of the proper ground and reaſon of the duty. I muſt be permitted to contend, that, whenever this is the caſe, it becomes not only a cold and ex⯑traneous, but a falſe and unreaſonable principle of action. A conduct propagated through the different ranks of ſociety merely by this motive, is a chain without a ſupport, a fabric without a foundation. The parts indeed depend upon one another, but there is nothing to bear up the whole. There muſt be ſome reaſon for every duty beſide example, or there can be no ſufficient reaſon for it at all. It is a perverſion therefore of the regular order of our ideas, to ſuffer a conſideration, which, whatever be its importance, is only ſecondary and con⯑ſequential to another, to ſhut out that other from the thoughts. The effect of this in the offices of religion, is utterly to deſtroy their religious quality; to rob them of that, which gives to them their life, their ſpirituality, their nature. They who would ſet an example to others of acts of worſhip and devotion, [19] in truth perform none themſelves. Idle or proud ſpectators of the ſcene, they vouchſafe their preſence in our aſſemblies, for the edification, it ſeems, and benefit of others, but as if they had no ſins of their own to deplore, no mercies to ac⯑knowledge, no pardon to intreat.

Shall the conſideration then of example be prohibited and diſcarded from the thoughts? By no means: but let it attend upon, not ſuperſede, the proper motive of the action. Let us learn to know and feel the reaſon, the value, and the ob⯑ligation of the duty, as it concerns ourſelves; and, in propor⯑tion as we are affected by the force of theſe conſiderations, we ſhall deſire, and deſiring endeavour, to extend their influence to others. This wiſh, flowing from an original ſenſe of each duty, preſerves to the duty its proper principle. "Let your light ſo ſhine before men, that they may ſee your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." The glory of your heavenly Father, is ſtill, you obſerve, the termi⯑nation of the precept. The love of God; that zeal for his ho⯑nour and ſervice, which love, which gratitude, which piety inſpires, are ſtill to be the operating motive of your conduct. Becauſe we find it convenient to ourſelves, that thoſe about us ſhould be religious; or becauſe it is uſeful to the ſtate, that re⯑ligion ſhould be upheld in the country; to join, from theſe motives, in the public ordinances of the church, for the [20] ſake of maintaining their credit by our preſence and example, however adviſeable it may be as a branch of ſecular prudence, is not either to fulfill our Lord's precept, or to perform any religious ſervice. Religion can only ſpring from its own principle. Believing our ſalvation to be involved in the faith⯑ful diſcharge of our religious as well as moral duties, or rather that they are the ſame; experiencing the warmth, the conſola⯑tion, the virtuous energy, which every act of true devotion communicates to the heart, and how much theſe effects are heightened by conſent and ſympathy; with the benevolence with which we love our neighbour, loving alſo and ſeeking his immortal welfare: when, prompted by theſe ſentiments, we unite with him in acts of ſocial homage to our Maker, then hath every principle its weight; then, at length, is our worſhip what it ought to be; exemplary yet our own; not the leſs perſonal for being public. We bring our hearts to the ſervice, and not a conſtrained attendance upon the place, with often⯑times an ill-concealed indifference to what is there paſſing.

If what we have ſtated concerning example be true; if the conſideration of it be liable to be overſtretched or miſapplied, no perſons can be more in danger of falling into the miſtake, than they who are taught to regard themſelves, as placed in their ſtations for the purpoſe of becoming the examples as well as inſtructors of their flocks. It is neceſſary that they ſhould [21] be admoniſhed to revert continually to the fundamental cauſe of all obligation and of all duty; particularly to remember, that in their religious offices, they have not only to pronounce, to excite, to conduct the devotion of their congregations, but to pay to God the adoration which themſelves owe to him; in a word, amidſt their care of others, to ſave their own ſouls by their own religion.

Theſe, I think, are ſome of the cauſes, which, in the con⯑duct of their lives, call for a peculiar attention from the clergy and from men of learning; and which render the apoſtle's ex⯑ample, and the leſſon which it teaches, peculiarly applicable to their circumſtances. It remains only to remind them of a conſideration, which ought to counteract theſe diſadvantages, by producing a care and ſolicitude, ſufficient to meet every danger, and every difficulty: to remind them, I ſay, for they cannot need to be informed, of our Lord's ſolemn declaration, that contumacious knowledge, and neglected talents, know⯑ledge which doth not lead to obedience, and talents which reſt in uſeleſs ſpeculations, will be found, in the day of final account, amongſt the objects of his ſevereſt diſpleaſure. Would to God, that men of learning always underſtood, how deeply they are concerned in this warning! It is impoſſible to add another reaſon, which can be equal or ſecond to our Lord's admonition: but we may ſuggeſt a motive, of very diſtant [22] indeed, but of no mean importance, and to which they cer⯑tainly will not refuſe its due regard, the honour and eſtimation of learning itſelf. Irregular morals in men of diſtinguiſhed attainments, render them, not deſpiſed (for talents and learning never can be deſpicable), but ſubjects of malicious remark, per⯑haps of affected pity, to the enemies of intellectual liberty, of ſcience and literature; and, at the ſame time, of ſincere, though ſilent regret to thoſe, who are deſirous of ſupporting the eſteem, which ought to await the ſucceſsful purſuit of ingenuous ſtudies. We intreat ſuch men to reflect, that their conduct will be made the reply of idleneſs to induſtry, the revenge of dulneſs and ignorance upon parts and learning; to conſider, how many will ſeek, and think they find, in their example, an apology for ſloth, and for indifference to all liberal improvement; what a theme, laſtly, they ſupply to thoſe, who, to the diſcourage⯑ment of every mental exertion, preach up the vanity of human knowledge, and the danger or the miſchief of ſuperior attain⯑ments.

But if the reputation of learning be concerned in the con⯑duct of thoſe who devote themſelves to its purſuit, the ſacred intereſts of morality are not leſs ſo. It is for us to take care, that we juſtify not the boaſts, or the ſneers, of infidelity; that we do not authorize the worſt of all ſcepticiſm, that which would ſubvert the diſtinctions of moral good and evil, by in⯑ſinuating [23] concerning them, that their only ſupport is preju⯑dice, their only origin in the artifice of the wiſe, and the credulity of the multitude; and that theſe things are but too clearly confeſſed by the lives of men of learning and enquiry. This calumny let us contradict; let us refute. Let us ſhew, that virtue and chriſtianity caſt their deepeſt foundations in knowledge; that, however they may aſk the aid of principles, which, in a great degree, govern human life (and which muſt neceſſarily, therefore, be either powerful allies, or irreſiſtible adverſaries), of education, of habit, of example, of public au⯑thority, of public inſtitutions, they reſt, nevertheleſs, upon the firm baſis of rational argument. Let us teſtify to the world our ſenſe of this great truth, by the only evidence which the world will believe, the influence of our concluſions upon our own conduct.