CHAP. I.

IF the general poſition of this lit⯑tle tract be allowed, namely, that religion is at preſent in no very flouriſhing ſtate among thoſe, whoſe example, from the high ground on which they ſtand, guides and governs the reſt of mankind; [24]it will not be denied by thoſe, who are ever ſo ſuperficially acquainted with the hiſtory of our country, that this has not always been the caſe. Thoſe who make a fair com⯑pariſon muſt allow, that however the preſent age may be improved in other important and valuable ad⯑vantages, yet that there is but little appearance remaining among the great and the powerful of that "righteouſneſs which exalteth a nation;"—that there has been a moral revolution in the national man⯑ners and principles, very little ana⯑logous to that great political one of [25]which we hear ſo much; that our public virtue bears little proportion to our public bleſſings; and that our religion has decreaſed in a pretty exact proportion to our having ſe⯑cured the means of enjoying it.

That the antipodes to wrong are hardly ever right, was very ſtrikingly illuſtrated about the middle of the laſt century, when the fiery and in⯑diſcreet zeal of one party was made a pretext for the profligate impiety of the other; who, to the bad prin⯑ciple which dictated a depraved con⯑duct, added the bad taſte of being [26]proud of it:—when even the leaſt abandoned were abſurdly appre⯑henſive that an appearance of de⯑cency might ſubject them to the charge of fanaticiſm, a charge in which they took care to involve real piety as well as enthuſiaſtic pretence; till it became the general faſhion to avoid no ſin but hypocriſy, to dread no imputation but that of ſeriouſ⯑neſs, and to be more afraid of a good reputation than of every vice which ever earned a bad one.

It was not till piety was thus un⯑fortunately [27]brought into diſrepute, that perſons of condition thought it made their ſincerity, their abilities, or their good breeding queſtionable, to appear openly on the ſide of reli⯑gion. A ſtrict attachment to piety did not ſubtract from a great repu⯑tation. Men were not thought the worſe lawyers, generals, miniſters, legiſlators, or hiſtorians, for believ⯑ing, and even defending, the religion of their country. The gallant Sir Philip Sidney, the raſh but heroic Eſſex, the politic and ſagacious Bur⯑leigh, the all-accompliſhed Falk⯑land ^*, [28]not only publicly owned their belief in chriſtianity, but even wrote ſome things of a religious nature ^† Theſe inſtances, and many others which might be ad⯑duced, are not, it will be allowed, ſelected from among contemplative recluſes, grave divines, or authors by profeſſion; but from buſy men [29]of ſtrong paſſions, beſet with great temptations; diſtinguiſhed actors on the ſtage of life; and whoſe reſpective claims to the title of fine gentlemen, brave ſoldiers, or able ſtateſmen, have never been called in queſtion.

What would the Hales, and the Clarendons, and the Somers's ^* have ſaid, had they been told that the [30]time was at no great diſtance, when that ſacred book, for which they thought it no derogation from their wiſdom or their dignity to entertain the profoundeſt reverence, would be of little more uſe to men in high public ſtations, than to be the inſtru⯑ment of an oath; and that the ſub⯑limeſt rites of the chriſtian religion would ſoon be conſidered as little more than a neceſſary qualification for a place, or the legal preliminary to an office.

This indeed is the boaſted period of free enquiry and liberty of think⯑ing, [31]and a noble ſubject of boaſting it is: but it is the peculiar character of the preſent age, that its miſchiefs often aſſume the moſt alluring forms; and that the moſt alarming evils not only look ſo like goodneſs as to be often miſtaken for it, but are ſome⯑times mixed up with ſo much real good, as often to diſguiſe, though never to counteract, their malignity. Under the beautiful maſk of an en⯑lightened philoſophy, all religious reſtraints are ſet at nought; and ſome of the deadlieſt wounds have been aimed at chriſtianity, in works written in avowed vindication of [32]the moſt amiable of all the chriſtian principles ^* Even the prevalence of a liberal and warm philanthropy [33]is ſecretly ſapping the foundation of chriſtian morals, becauſe many of its champions allow themſelves to live in the open violation of the ſeverer duties of juſtice and ſobriety, while they are contending for the gentler ones of charity and benefi⯑cence.

The ſtrong and generous bias in favour of univerſal toleration, noble as the principle itſelf is, has engen⯑dered a dangerous notion that all error is innocent. Whether it be owing to this, or to whatever other cauſe, it is certain that the diſcrimi⯑nating [34]features of the chriſtian reli⯑gion are every day growing into leſs repute; and it is become the faſhion, even among the better ſort, to evade, to lower, or to generalize, its moſt diſtinguiſhing peculiarities ^*

[35]Having wiſely and happily freed ourſelves from the trammels of human authority, are we not turning our liberty into licentiouſneſs, and wantonly ſtruggling to throw off the divine authority too? Freedom of thought is the glory of the human mind, while it is confined within its juſt and ſober limits; but though we are accountable for opinions at no earthly tribunal, yet it ſhould be re⯑membered that thoughts as well as actions are amenable to the bar of God: and though we may rejoice that the tyranny of the ſpiritual Procruſtes is ſo far annihilated, that [36]it is no longer thought a proof of the orthodoxy of one man's opinions, that he lop or lengthen thoſe of another till they fit his own meaſure; yet there is ſtill a ſtandard by which not only actions are weighed, but opinions are judged; and every ſen⯑timent which is clearly inconſiſtent with the revealed will of God, is as much throwing off his dominion, as the breach of any of his moral pre⯑cepts.

There is then ſurely one teſt by which it is no mark of intolerance to try the principles of men, namely, [37]the Law and the Teſtimony: and it is impoſſible not to lament, that while a more generous ſpirit governs our judgment, a purer principle does not ſeem to regulate our lives. May it not be ſaid, that while we are juſtly commended for thinking charitably of the opinions of others, we ſeem, in return, as if we were deſirous of furniſhing them with an opportunity of exerciſing their candour, by the laxity of principle in which we in⯑dulge ourſelves? If the hearts of men were as firmly united to each other by the bond of charity, as ſome pretend, they could not fail of being [38]united to God alſo, by one common principle of piety, the only certain ſource of all charitable judgment, as well as of all virtuous conduct.

Inſtead of abiding by the ſalutary precept of judging no man, it is the faſhion to exceed our commiſſion, and to fancy every body to be in a ſafe ſtate. But, in forming our notions, we have to chooſe between the Bible and the world, between the rule and the practice. Where theſe do not agree, it is left to the judgment, of believers at leaſt, by which we are to decide. But we [39]never act, in religious concerns, by the ſame rule of common ſenſe and equitable judgment which governs us on other occaſions. In weighing any commodity, its weight is deter⯑mined by ſome generally-allowed ſtandard; and if the commodity be heavier or lighter than the ſtandard weight, we add to or take from it: but we never break, or clip, or re⯑duce the weight, to ſuit the thing we are weighing; becauſe the common conſent of mankind has agreed that the one ſhall be conſidered as the ſtandard to aſcertain the value of the other. But, in weighing our prin⯑ciples [40]by the ſtandard of the Goſpel, we do juſt the reverſe. Inſtead of bringing our opinions and actions to the balance of the ſanctuary, to deter⯑mine and rectify their comparative deficiencies, we lower and reduce the ſtandard of the ſcripture doctrines till we have accommodated them to our own purpoſes; ſo that, inſtead of trying others and ourſelves by God's unerring rule, we try the truth of God's rule by its conformity or non⯑conformity to our own depraved no⯑tions and corrupt practices.

CHAP. II.

TO all the remonſtrance and in⯑vective of the preceding chap⯑ter, there will not fail to be oppoſed [42]that which we hear every day ſo loudly inſiſted on—the decided ſu⯑periority of the preſent age, in other and better reſpects. It will be ſaid that even thoſe who neglect the out⯑ward forms of religion, exhibit how⯑ever the beſt proofs of the beſt prin⯑ciples; that the unparalleled inſtances of charity of which we are continual witneſſes; that the many ſtriking acts of public bounty, and the vari⯑ous new and noble improvements in this ſhining virtue, juſtly entitle the preſent age to be called, by way of eminence, the age of benevolence.

[43]It is with the livelieſt joy I ac⯑knowledge the delightful truth. Li⯑berality flows with a full tide through a thouſand channels. There is ſcarcely a newſpaper but records ſome meeting of men of fortune for the moſt ſalutary purpoſes. The noble and numberleſs ſtructures for the relief of diſtreſs, which are the ornament and the glory of our me⯑tropolis, proclaim a ſpecies of mu⯑nificence unknown to former ages. Subſcriptions, not only to hoſpitals, but to various other valuable inſtitu⯑tions, are obtained almoſt as ſoon as ſolicited. And who but muſt wiſh [44]that theſe beautiful monuments of benevolence may become every day more numerous and more extended?

Yet with all theſe allowed and ob⯑vious excellencies, it is not quite clear whether ſomething too much has not been ſaid of the liberality of the preſent age, in a comparative view with that of thoſe ages which preceded it. A general alteration of habits and manners has at the ſame time multiplied public boun⯑ties and private diſtreſs; and it is ſcarcely a paradox to ſay, that there [45]was probably leſs miſery when there was leſs munificence.

If an increaſed benevolence now ranges through and relieves a wider compaſs of diſtreſs; yet ſtill, if thoſe examples of luxury and diſſipation which promote that diſtreſs are ſtill more increaſed, this makes the good done bear little proportion to the evil promoted. If the miſeries re⯑moved by the growth of charity fall, both in number and weight, far below thoſe which are cauſed by the growth of vice and diſorder; if we find that though bounty is extended, [46]yet that thoſe corruptions which make bounty ſo neceſſary are extended alſo, almoſt beyond calculation; if it appear that, though more objects are relieved by our money, yet in⯑comparably more are debauched by our licentiouſneſs—the balance per⯑haps will not turn out ſo decidedly in favour of the times as we are will⯑ing to imagine.

If then the moſt valuable ſpecies of charity is that which prevents diſtreſs by preventing or leſſening vice, the greateſt and moſt inevitable cauſe of want; we ought not ſo [47]highly to exalt the bounty of the great in the preſent day, in prefe⯑rence to that broad ſhade of protec⯑tion, patronage, and maintenance, which the wide-ſpread bounty of their forefathers ſtretched out over whole villages, I had almoſt ſaid whole provinces. When a few noblemen in a county, like a few of their own ſtately oaks (paternal oaks! which were not often ſet upon a card), extended their ſheltering branches to ſhield all the underwood of the foreſt—when there exiſted a kind of paſſive charity, a negative ſort of benevolence, which did good [48]of itſelf; and without effort, exer⯑tion, or expence, performed the beſt functions of bounty, though it did not aſpire to the dignity of its name— it was ſimply this:—great people ſtaid at home; and the ſober pomp and orderly magnificence of a noble family, reſiding at their own caſtle great part of the year, contributed in the moſt natural way to the main⯑tenance of the poor; and in a good degree prevented that diſtreſs, which it muſt however thankfully be con⯑feſſed it is the laudable object of modern bounty to relieve. A man of fortune might not then, it is true, [49]ſo often dine in public, for the benefit of the poor; but the poor were more regularly and comfort⯑ably fed with the abundant crumbs which then fell from the rich man's table. Whereas it cannot be denied that the prevailing mode of living has pared real hoſpitality to the very quick: and, though the remark may be thought ridiculous, it is a material diſadvantage to the poor, that the introduction of the modern ſtyle of luxury has rendered the remains of the moſt coſtly table but of ſmall value.

[50]But even allowing the boaſted ſuperiority of modern benevolence, ſtill it will not be inconſiſtent with the object of the preſent deſign, to enquire whether the diffuſion of this branch of charity, though the moſt lovely offspring of religion, be yet any poſitive proof of the prevalence of religious principle: and whether it is not the faſhion rather to conſider benevolence as a ſubſtitute for chriſ⯑tianity, than as an evidence of it.

For it ſeems to be one of the reigning errors among the better ſort, to reduce all religion into bene⯑volence, [51]and all benevolence into alms-giving. The wide and com⯑prehenſive idea of chriſtian charity is compreſſed into the ſlender compaſs of a little pecuniary relief. This ſpe⯑cies of benevolence is indeed a bright gem among the ornaments of a chriſ⯑tian; but by no means furniſhes all the jewels of his crown, which de⯑rives its luſtre from the aſſociated radiance of every chriſtian grace. Beſides, the genuine virtues are all of the ſame family; and it is only by being ſeen in company with each other, and with Piety their common parent, that they are certainly known [52]to be legitimate; for there are ſuch things as even ſpurious virtues.

But it is the property of the chriſ⯑tian virtues, that, like all other ami⯑able members of the ſame family, while each is doing its own particular duty, it is contributing to the pro⯑ſperity of the reſt; and the larger the family the better they live toge⯑ther, as no one can advance itſelf without labouring for the advance⯑ment of the whole: thus, no man can be benevolent on chriſtian prin⯑ciples, without ſelf-denial; and ſo of the other virtues: each is connected [53]with ſome other, and all with re⯑ligion.

I already anticipate the obvious and hackneyed reply, that "who⯑ever be the inſtrument, and what⯑ever be the motive of bounty, ſtill the poor are equally relieved, and therefore the end is the ſame." And it muſt be confeſſed that thoſe compaſſionate hearts, who cannot but be earneſtly anxious that the diſtreſſed ſhould be relieved at any rate, ſhould not too ſcrupulouſly enquire into any cauſe of which the effect is ſo beneficial. Nor indeed [54]will candour ſcrutinize too curiouſly into the errors of any life, of which benevolence will always be allowed to be a ſhining ornament, while it does not pretend to be an atoning virtue.

Let me not be miſrepreſented as if I were ſeeking to detract from the value of this amiable feeling; one does not ſurely lower the prac⯑tice by ſeeking to ennoble the princi⯑ple; the action will not be impaired by mending the motive: and no one will be likely to give the poor leſs becauſe he ſeeks to pleaſe God more.

[55]One cannot then help wiſhing that pecuniary bounty were not only practiſed, but ſometimes enjoined too, as a redeeming virtue. In many converſations, I had almoſt ſaid in many charity ſermons, it is inſinuated as if a little alms-giving could pay off old ſcores contracted by favourite indulgences. This, though often done by well-meaning men to advance the intereſts of ſome preſent pious purpoſe, yet has the miſchievous effect of thoſe medicines which, while they may relieve a local complaint, are yet undermining the general habit.

[56]That great numbers who are not influenced by ſo high a principle as chriſtianity holds out, are yet truly compaſſionate, without hypocriſy, and without oſtentation, who can doubt? ſince there are by nature many tender hearts; for did not God make them? and is he not the Author of all that is good in nature, as well as in grace?

But who that feels the beauty of benevolence, can avoid being ſoli⯑citous, not only that its offerings ſhould comfort the receiver, but re⯑turn in bleſſings to the boſom of the [57]giver, by ſpringing from ſuch mo⯑tives, and being accompanied by ſuch a temper as ſhall redound to his eternal good? For that the bene⯑fit is the ſame to the object, whatever be the character of the benefactor, is but an uncomfortable view of things to a real chriſtian, whoſe compaſſion reaches to the ſouls of men. Such an one longs to ſee the charitable giver as happy as he is endeavouring to make the object of his bounty; but ſuch an one knows that no hap⯑pineſs can be fully and finally en⯑joyed but on the ſolid baſis of chriſ⯑tian piety.

[58]For as religion is not, on the one hand, merely an opinion or a ſenti⯑ment; ſo neither is it, on the other, merely an act or a performance; but it is a diſpoſition, a habit, a temper: it is not a name, but a nature: it is a turning the whole mind to God; a concentration of all the powers and affections of the ſoul into one ſteady point, an uniform deſire to pleaſe Him. This deſire will naturally and neceſſarily manifeſt itſelf, in our doing all the good we can to our fellow-creatures in every poſſible way; for it will be found that neither of the two parts into which [59]practical religion is divided, can be performed with any degree of per⯑fection but by thoſe who unite both: as it may be queſtioned if any man really does "love his neighbour as himſelf," who does not firſt endea⯑vour to "love God with all his heart." As genius has been de⯑fined to be ſtrong general powers of mind accidentally determined to ſome particular purſuit; ſo piety may be denominated a ſtrong general diſpoſition of the heart to every thing that is right, breaking forth into every excellent action, as the occaſion preſents itſelf. The temper [60]muſt be ready in the mind, and the whole heart muſt be prepared and trained to every act of virtue to which it may be called out. For religious principles are like the mili⯑tary exerciſe; they keep up an habi⯑tual ſtate of preparation for actual ſervice; and by never relaxing the diſcipline, the real chriſtian is ready for every duty to which he may be commanded. Right actions beſt prove the exiſtence of religion in the heart; but they are evidences, not cauſes.

Whether therefore a man's chari⯑table [61]actions proceed from religious principle, he will be beſt able to aſ⯑certain by ſcrutinizing into what is the general diſpoſition of his time and fortune; and by attending to ſuch an habitual regulation of his pleaſures and expences as will en⯑able him to be more or leſs uſeful to others.

For it is in vain that he may poſ⯑ſeſs, what is called by the courteſy of faſhion the beſt heart in the world (a character we every day hear ap⯑plied to the libertine and the pro⯑digal), if he ſquander his time and [62]eſtate in ſuch a round of extravagant indulgences, and thoughtleſs diſſipa⯑tion, as leaves him little money and leſs leiſure for nobler purpoſes. It makes but little difference whether a man is prevented from doing good by hard-hearted parſimony or an un⯑principled extravagance; the ſtream is equally cut off.

The mere caſual benevolence of any man can have little claim to ſolid eſteem; nor does any charity deſerve the name which does not grow out of a ſteady conviction that it is his bounden duty; which does [63]not ſpring from a ſettled propenſity to obey the whole will of God; which is not therefore made a part of the general plan of his conduct; and which does not lead him to order the whole ſcheme of his affairs with an eye to it.

He therefore who does not habi⯑tuate himſelf to certain interior re⯑ſtraints, who does not live in a regular courſe of ſelf-renunciation, will not be likely often to perform acts of beneficence, when it becomes ne⯑ceſſary to convert to ſuch purpoſes any of that time or money which [64]appetite, temptation, or vanity ſolicit him to divert to other purpoſes.

And ſurely he who ſeldom ſacri⯑fices one darling indulgence, who does not ſubtract one gratification from the inceſſant round of his en⯑joyments, when the indulgence would obſtruct his capacity of doing good, or when the ſacrifice would enlarge his power, does not deſerve the name of benevolent. And for ſuch an unequivocal criterion of charity to whom are we to look, but to the conſcientious chriſtian? No other ſpirit but that by which he is go⯑verned, [65]can ſubdue ſelf-love; and where ſelf-love is the predominant paſſion, benevolence can have but a feeble, or an accidental dominion.

Now if we look around and re⯑mark the exceſſes of luxury, the coſtly diverſions, and the intempe⯑rate diſſipation in which numbers of profeſſing chriſtians indulge them⯑ſelves, can any ſtretch of candour, can even that tender ſentiment by which we are enjoined "to hope" and to "believe all things," enable us to hope and believe that ſuch are actuated by a ſpirit of chriſtian bene⯑volence, [66]merely becauſe we ſee them perform ſome caſual acts of charity, which the ſpirit of the world can contrive to make extremely com⯑patible with a voluptuous life, and the coſt of which, after all, bears but little proportion to that of any one vice, or even vanity?

Men will not believe that there is hardly any one human good quality which will know and keep its proper bounds, without the reſtraining in⯑fluence of religious principle. There is, for inſtance, great danger leſt a conſtant attention to ſo right a prac⯑tice [67]as an invariable oeconomy ſhould incline the heart to the love of money. Nothing can effectually counteract this natural propenſity but the chriſtian habit of devoting thoſe retrenched expences to ſome good purpoſe; and then oeconomy, inſtead of narrowing the heart, will enlarge it, by inducing a conſtant aſſociation of benevolence with fru⯑gality. An habitual attention to the wants of others is the only whole⯑ſome regulator of our own expences, and carries with it a whole train of virtues, diſintereſtedneſs, ſobriety and temperance. And thoſe who live [68]in the cuſtom of levying conſtant taxes on their vanities for ſuch pur⯑poſes, ſerve the poor ſtill leſs than they ſerve themſelves, by cultivating ſuch habits as make the beſt qualifi⯑cation for their final happineſs.

Thus when a vein of chriſtianity runs through the whole maſs of a man's life, it gives a new value to all his actions, and a new character to all his views. It tranſmutes pru⯑dence and oeconomy into chriſtian virtues; and every offering that is preſented on the altar of charity becomes truly conſecrated, when it [69]is the gift of obedience, and the price of ſelf-denial. Piety is the fire from heaven, which can alone kindle the ſacrifice, and make it ac⯑ceptable.

On the other hand, when any act of bounty is performed by way of compoſition with one's Maker, either as a purchaſe, or an expiation of un⯑allowed indulgences; though even in this caſe, God (who makes all the paſſions of men ſubſervient to his good purpoſes) can make the gift equally beneficial to the re⯑ceiver; yet it is ſurely not too ſevere [70]to ſay, that to the giver ſuch acts are an unfounded dependance, a deceitful refuge, a broken ſtaff.

CHAP. III.

LET not the truly ſerious be offended, as if, in the preſent chapter, which is intended to treat of the notorious neglect of religious [72]education, I meant to confine the ſpirit of chriſtianity to merely me⯑chanical effects, and to ſuppoſe that piety muſt be the natural and inevi⯑table conſequence of early inſtitu⯑tion. To imply this, would be in⯑deed to betray a lamentable igno⯑rance of human nature, of the diſ⯑order ſin has introduced, of the in⯑efficacy of human means, and en⯑tirely to miſtake the genius of our religion. It would be to ſuppoſe that God was to depend upon our goodneſs, and not we upon his.

Yet it muſt be allowed that the [73]Supreme Being works chiefly by means; and though it is confeſſed that no defect of education, no cor⯑ruption of manners can place any one out of the reach of the divine influences (for it is under ſuch cir⯑cumſtances, perhaps, that the moſt extraordinary inſtances of divine grace have been manifeſted); yet it muſt be owned that early ſobriety, early knowledge of religion, and early habits of piety, are the moſt probable means of ſecuring the fa⯑vour of God. To acquire theſe, is putting ourſelves in the way in [74]which he himſelf has told us his bleſſing is to be found.

But religion is the only thing in which we ſeem to look for the end, without making uſe of the means: and yet it would not be more ſur⯑priſing if we were to expect that our children ſhould become artiſts and ſcholars, without being bred to arts and languages, than it is to look for a chriſtian world without a chriſ⯑tian education.

The nobleſt objects can yield no delight, if there be not in the mind [75]a diſpoſition to enjoy them, ariſing from an intelligence of their nature, and a reverence for their value, which can only ſpring from long habit and early acquaintance. For to produce any capacity of enjoy⯑ment, there muſt be a congruity between the mind and the object. To the mathematician demonſtration is pleaſure; to the philoſopher the ſtudy of nature; to the voluptuous the gratification of his appetite; to the poet the pleaſures of the imagi⯑nation. Theſe objects they all re⯑ſpectively purſue as their proper buſi⯑neſs, as pleaſures adapted to that [76]part of their nature which they have been accuſtomed to indulge and cultivate.

Now, as men will be apt to act conſiſtently with their general views and habitual tendencies, would it not be abſurd to expect that the philoſo⯑pher ſhould look for his ſovereign good at a ball, or the ſenſualiſt in the pleaſures of intellect or piety? None of theſe ends are anſwerable to the general views of the reſpective purſuer; they are not correſpon⯑dent to his ideas; they are not com⯑menſurate to his aims. The ſub⯑limeſt [77]pleaſures can afford little gra⯑tification where a previous taſte has not been cultivated. A clown, who ſhould hear a ſcholar or an artiſt talk of the delights of a library, a picture gallery, or a concert, could not gueſs at the nature of the plea⯑ſures they afford; nor would his being introduced to them give him much clearer ideas, becauſe he would bring to them an eye blind to pro⯑portion, an underſtanding new to ſcience, and an ear deaf to harmony.

Shall we expect then, ſince men can only be ſcholars by ſedulous labour, [78]that they ſhall be chriſtians by mere chance? Shall we be ſurpriſed if thoſe do not fulfil the offices of reli⯑gion, who are not trained to an ac⯑quaintance with them? And will it not be obvious that it muſt be ſome other thing beſides the abſtruſeneſs of creeds and opinions which makes chriſtianity unfaſhionable?

For it will not probably be diſ⯑puted, that in no age have the paſ⯑ſions of youth been ſo early freed from the muzzle of reſtraint; in no age has the paternal authority been ſo contemptuouſly treated, or every [79]ſpecies of ſubordination ſo diſdain⯑fully trampled on. All the ſhades of diſcrimination in ſociety ſeem to be melting into each other. In no age has imprudent fondneſs been ſo injuriouſly laviſh, or the ſupernume⯑rary expences of the college and the ſchool (that prolific ſeed of corrup⯑tion) been ſo prodigally augmented. In no age have the appetites been excited by ſuch early ſtimulants, and anticipated by ſuch premature in⯑dulgences. Never was the ſhining gloſs, the charming novelty of life ſo early worn off from all enjoyment by exceſſive uſe. Never had ſimple, [80]and natural, and youthful pleaſures ſo early loſt their power over the mind; nor was ever one great ſecret of virtue and happineſs, the ſecret of being cheaply pleaſed, ſo little un⯑derſtood.

A taſte for coſtly, or artificial, or tumultuous pleaſures cannot be gra⯑tified, by their moſt ſedulous pur⯑ſuers, at every moment; and what wretched management is it in the oeconomy of human happineſs ſo to contrive, as that the enjoyment ſhall be rare and difficult, and the inter⯑vals long and languid! Whereas [81]real and unadulterate pleaſures occur perpetually to him who cultivates a taſte for truth and nature, and ſcience and virtue. But theſe ſimple and tranquil enjoyments cannot but be inſipid to him, whoſe paſſions have been prematurely excited by agitat⯑ing pleaſures, or whoſe taſte has been depraved by ſuch as are debaſ⯑ing and frivolous; for it is of more conſequence to virtue than ſome good people are willing to allow, to preſerve the taſte pure, and the judgment ſound. A vitiated intel⯑lect has no ſmall connection with de⯑praved morals.

[82]Since amuſements of ſome kind are neceſſary to all ages (I ſpeak now with an eye to mere human enjoy⯑ment), why ſhould it not be as pro⯑per to tether man as other animals? Why ſhould not he too be confined, in different ſtages of life, to certain reſtricted limitations? ſince nothing but experience ſeems to teach him, that, if he be allowed to anticipate his future poſſeſſions, and trample all the flowery fields of real as well as thoſe of imaginary and artificial en⯑joyment, he not only induces preſent diſguſt, but defaces and deſtroys all the rich materials of his future hap⯑pineſs; [83]and leaves himſelf, for the reſt of his life, nothing but ravaged fields and barren ſtubble.

But the great and radical defect, and that which comes more imme⯑diately within the preſent deſign, ſeems to be, that in general the characteriſtical principles of chriſti⯑anity are not early and ſtrongly in⯑fuſed into the mind: that religion is rather taught incidentally, as a thing of ſubordinate value, than as the leading principle of human actions, and the great animating ſpring of human conduct. Were the high [84]influential principles of the chriſtian religion anxiouſly and early incul⯑cated, we ſhould find that thoſe lapſes from virtue, to which paſſion and temptation afterwards too fre⯑quently ſolicit, would be more eaſily recoverable.

For though the evil propenſities of fallen nature, and the bewitching allurements of pleaſure, will too often ſeduce even thoſe of the beſt education into devious paths, yet we ſhall find that men will ſeldom be incurably wicked, without that in⯑ternal corruption of principle, which [85]knows how to juſtify iniquity, and confirm evil conduct, by the ſanction of corrupt reaſoning.

The errors occaſioned by the vio⯑lence of paſſion may be reformed, but ſyſtematic wickedneſs will be only fortified by time; and no de⯑creaſe of ſtrength, no decay of ap⯑petite, can weaken the power of a pernicious principle. He who com⯑mits a wrong action indeed, puts himſelf out of the path of ſafety; but he who adopts a falſe principle, not only throws himſelf into the enemy's country, but burns the [86]ſhips, breaks the bridge, cuts off every retreat by which he might hope one day to return into his own.

Surely it will ſubject no one to the imputation of bigotry or enthuſiaſm, if he venture to enquire whether the genuine doctrines of chriſtianity are made the ſtandard by which our young men of faſhion are commonly taught to try their principles, or to weight their actions; or whether ſome more popular ſtandard, of cuſtom, or faſhion, or worldly opinion, be not too frequently allowed to ſuperſede them? Whether ſome idol of falſe [87]honour be not conſecrated for them to worſhip? Whether, even among the better ſort, reputation be not held out as a motive of ſufficient energy to produce virtue, in a world where yet the greateſt vices are every day practiſed openly, which do not at all obſtruct the reception of thoſe who practiſe them into the beſt company? Whether reſentment be not enno⯑bled; and pride, and many other paſſions, erected into honourable vir⯑tues—virtues not leſs repugnant to the genius and ſpirit of chriſtianity, than obvious and groſs vices? Will it be thought impertinent to enquire [88]if the awful doctrines of a perpetually preſent Deity, and a future righteous judgment, are early impreſſed, and laſtingly engraven, on the hearts and conſciences of our high-born youth?

Perhaps, if there be any one par⯑ticular in which we fall remarkably below the politer nations of anti⯑quity, it is in that part of education which has a reference to purity of mind, and the diſcipline of the heart.

For the great ſecret of religious education, and which ſeems baniſhed [89]from the preſent practice, conſiſts in training young men to an habitual interior reſtraint, an early govern⯑ment of the affections, and a courſe of ſelf-controul over thoſe tyranniz⯑ing inclinations, which have ſo natu⯑ral a tendency to enſlave the human heart. Without this habit of moral reſtraint, which is one of the funda⯑mental laws of chriſtian virtue, though men may, from natural tem⯑per, often do good, yet it is perhaps impoſſible that they ſhould ever be good. Without the vigorous exer⯑ciſe of this controuling principle, the beſt diſpoſitions, and the moſt amia⯑ble [90]qualities, will go but a little way towards eſtabliſhing a virtuous cha⯑racter. For the beſt diſpoſitions will be eaſily overcome by the con⯑currence of paſſion and temptation, in a heart where the paſſions have not been accuſtomed to this whole⯑ſome diſcipline: and the moſt ami⯑able qualities will but more eaſily betray their poſſeſſor, unleſs the yielding heart be fortified by re⯑peated acts, and long habits, of re⯑ſiſtance.

In this, as in various other in⯑ſtances, we may bluſh at the ſupe⯑riority [91]of Pagan inſtitution. Were the Roman youth taught to imagine themſelves always in the awful pre⯑ſence of Cato, in order to habituate them betimes to ſuppreſs baſe ſenti⯑ments, and to excite ſuch as were generous and noble? And ſhould not the chriſtian youth be continually reminded, that a greater than Cato is here? Should they not be trained to the habit of acting under the con⯑ſtant impreſſion, that He to whom they muſt one day be accountable for intentions, as well as words and actions, is witneſs to the one as well as the other; that he [92]not only is "about their path," but "underſtands their very thoughts?"

Were the diſciples of a Pagan ^* leader taught that it was a motive ſufficient to compel their obedience to any rule, whether they liked it or not, that it had the authority of their teacher's name? were the bare words, the maſter hath ſaid it, ſuf⯑ficient to ſettle all diſputes, and to ſubdue all reluctance? And ſhall the ſcholars of a more divine teacher, who have a code of laws written by [93]God himſelf, be contented with a lower rule, or abide by a meaner authority? And is any argument drawn from human conſiderations likely to operate more forcibly on a dependent being, than that ſimple but grand aſſertion, with which ſo many of the precepts of our reli⯑gion are introduced—Becauſe, THUS SAITH THE LORD?

For it is doing but little, in the infuſion of firſt principles, to obtain the bare aſſent of the underſtanding to the exiſtence of one Supreme Power, unleſs the heart and affections [94]go along with the conviction, by our conceiving of that power as inti⯑mately connected with ourſelves. A feeling temper will be but little affect⯑ed with the cold idea of a geometrical God, as the excellent Paſcal expreſſes it, who merely adjuſts all the parts of matter, and keeps the elements in order. Such a mind will be but little moved, unleſs he be taught to conſider his Maker under the inte⯑reſting and endearing repreſentation which revealed religion gives of him. That "God is," will be to him rather an alarming than a conſolatory idea; till he be perſuaded of the ſub⯑ſequent [95]propoſition, that "he is the rewarder of all ſuch as diligently ſeek him." Nay, if natural religion does even acknowledge one awful attribute, that "God is juſt;" it will only increaſe the terror of a tender conſcience, till he learn, from the fountain of truth, that he is "the juſtifier of all who believe on him."

But if the great ſanctions of our religion are not deeply engraven on the heart, where ſhall we look for a more adequate curb to the fiery ſpirit of youth? For, let the elements be ever ſo kindly mixed in a human [96]compoſition, let the natural temper be ever ſo amiable, ſtill, whenever a man ceaſes to think himſelf an ac⯑countable being, what motive can he have for reſiſting a ſtrong temptation to a preſent good, when he has no dread that he ſhall thereby forfeit a greater future good?

But it will be objected, that this deep ſenſe of religion would interfere with the general purpoſes of educa⯑tion, which is deſigned to qualify men for the buſineſs of human life, and not to train up a race of monks and aſcetics.

[97]There is however ſo little real ſolidity in this ſpecious objection, that I am firmly perſuaded, that if religious principles were more deep⯑ly impreſſed on the heart, even the things of this world would be much better carried on. For where are we to look for ſo much punctuality, diligence, application, doing every thing in its proper day (the great hinge on which buſineſs turns), as among men of principle? Oeco⯑nomy of time, truth in obſerving his word, never daring to deceive or [...]o diſappoint—theſe are the very eſſence of a man of buſineſs; and for theſe [98]to whom ſhall we moſt naturally look? Who is ſo little likely to be "ſlothful in buſineſs," as he who is "fervent in ſpirit?" Will not he be moſt regular in dealing with men, who is moſt diligent in "ſerving the Lord?"

But, it may be ſaid, allowing that religion does not neceſſarily ſpoil a man of buſineſs; yet it would ef⯑fectually defeat thoſe accompliſh⯑ments, and counteract that fine breed⯑ing, which eſſentially conſtitute the gentleman.

[99]This again is ſo far from being a natural conſequence, that, ſuppoſing all the other real advantages, of parts and education, to be equally taken into the account, there is no doubt but that, in point of true po⯑liteneſs, a real chriſtian would beat the world at its own weapons, the world itſelf being judge.

For though it muſt be confeſſed, that, in the preſent ſtate of things, other wickedneſs has made diſſimu⯑lation neceſſary; and that being the caſe, there is ſcarcely any one inven⯑tion for which we are more obliged [100]to mankind than for that of polite⯑neſs, as there is perhaps no ſcreen in the world which hides ſo many ugly ſights: yet while we allow that there never was ſo admirable a ſupplement to real goodneſs, as good breeding; it is however certain that the princi⯑ples of chriſtianity put into action, would neceſſarily produce more ge⯑nuine politeneſs than any maxims drawn from motives of human vanity or convenience. If love, peace, joy, long-ſuffering, gentleneſs, patience, good⯑neſs and meekneſs may be thought in⯑ſtruments to produce ſweetneſs of manners, theſe we are expreſsly told [101]are "the fruits of the ſpirit." If mourning with the afflicted, rejoic⯑ing with the happy; if "to eſteem others better than ourſelves;" if "to take the loweſt room;" if "not to ſeek our own;" if "not to behave curſelves unſeemly;" if "not to ſpeak great ſwelling words of va⯑nity"—if theſe are amiable, engag⯑ing and polite parts of behaviour; then would the documents of Saint Paul make as true a fine gentleman as the Courtier of Caſtiglione, or even the Letters of Lord Cheſterfield him⯑ſelf. Then would ſimulation, and diſſimulation, and all the nice ſhades [102]and delicate gradations of paſſive and active deceit, be rendered ſuperflu⯑ous; and the affections of every heart be won by a ſhorter and a ſurer way, than by the elegant obli⯑quities of this late popular preceptor; whoſe miſchiefs have outlived his reputation; and who, notwithſtand⯑ing the preſent juſt declenſion of his fame, has helped to relax the general nerve of virtue, and has left a taint upon the public morals, of which we are ſtill ſenſible.

That ſelf-abaſement then, which is inſeparable from chriſtianity, and [103]the external ſigns of which good breeding knows ſo well how to aſ⯑ſume; and thoſe charities which ſug⯑geſt invariable kindneſs to others, even in the ſmalleſt things, would, if left to their natural workings, produce that gentleneſs which it is one great object of a polite education to imi⯑tate. They would produce it too without effort and without exertion; for being inherent in the ſubſtance, it would naturally produce itſelf on the ſurface.

For however uſeful the inſtitutions of poliſhed ſociety may be found, [104]yet they can never alter the eternal difference between right and wrong; or convert appearances into realities; they cannot transform decency into virtue, nor make politeneſs paſs for principle. And the advocates for faſhionable breeding ſhould be hum⯑bled to reflect that every convention of artificial manners was invented not to cure, but to conceal, deformity: that though the ſuperficial civilities of elegant life tend to make this corrupt world a more tolerable place than it would be without them; yet they never will be conſidered as a ſubſtitute for truth and virtue by [105]HIM who is to paſs the definitive ſentence on the characters of men.

Among the many prejudices which the young and the gay entertain againſt religion, one is, that it is the declared enemy to wit and genius. But, ſays one of its wittieſt cham⯑pions ^*, "Piety enjoins no man to be dull:" and it will be found, on a fair enquiry, that though it cannot be denied that irreligion has had able men for its advocates, yet they have never been the moſt able. Nor can any learned profeſſion, any depart⯑ment [106]in letters or in ſcience, produce a champion on the ſide of unbelief, but chriſtianity has a ſtill greater name to oppoſe to it; philoſophers themſelves being judges.

But while the young adopt an opinion, from one claſs of writers, that religious men are weak; they acquire, from another, a notion that they are ridiculous: and this opi⯑nion, by mixing itſelf with their common notions, and deriving it⯑ſelf from their very amuſements, is the more miſchievous as it is received without reſiſtance or ſuſpicion.

[107]One common medium through which they take this falſe view is, thoſe favourite works of with and humour, ſo captivating to youthful imaginations, where no ſmall part of the author's ſucceſs perhaps has been owing to his dexterouſly introducing a pious character, with ſo many vir⯑tues that it is impoſſible not to love him, yet tinctured with ſo many ab⯑ſurdities that it is impoſſible not to laugh at him. The reader's memory will furniſh him with too many in⯑ſtances of what is here meant. The ſlighteſt touches of a witty malice can make the beſt character ridicu⯑lous. [108]It is effected by any little aukwardneſs, abſence of mind, an obſolete phraſe, a formal pronuncia⯑tion, a peculiarity of geſture. Or if ſuch a character be brought, by unſuſpecting goodneſs, and truſting honeſty, into ſome fooliſh ſcrape, it will ſtamp an impreſſion of ridicule ſo indelible, that all his worth ſhall not be able to efface it: and the young, who do not always ſeparate their ideas very carefully, ſhall ever after, by this early and falſe aſſocia⯑tion, conceive of piety as having ſomething eſſentially ridiculous in itſelf.

[109]But one of the moſt infallible arts, by which the inexperienced are en⯑gaged on the ſide of irreligion, is that popular air of candour, good nature and toleration, which it ſo in⯑variably puts on. While, on the one hand, ſincere piety is often ac⯑cuſed of moroſeneſs and ſeverity, becauſe it cannot hear the doctrines, on which it founds its eternal hopes, derided without emotion; indiffe⯑rence or unbelief, on the other hand, purchaſe the praiſe of candour at an eaſy price, becauſe they neither ſuffer grief, nor expreſs indignation, at hearing the moſt awful truths ri⯑diculed, [110]or the moſt ſolemn obliga⯑tions ſet at nought.

The ſcoffers whom young people hear talk, and the books they hear quoted, falſely charge their own in⯑jurious opinions on chriſtianity, and then injuriouſly accuſe her of being the monſter they have made. They dreſs her up, with the ſword of per⯑ſecution in one hand, and the flames of intolerance in the other; and then ridicule the ſober-minded for wor⯑ſhipping an idol which their miſ⯑repreſentation has rendered as ma⯑lignant as Moloch. In the mean [111]time they affect to ſeize on benevo⯑lence with excluſive appropriation as their own cardinal virtue, and to ac⯑cuſe of a bigotted cruelty that nar⯑row ſpirit which points out the perils of licentiouſneſs, and the ter⯑rors of a future account. And yet this benevolence, with all it stender mercies, is not afraid nor aſhamed to endeavour at ſnatching away from humble piety the comfort of a preſent hope, and the bright proſpect of a felicity that ſhall have no end. It does not however ſeem a very pro⯑bable means of adding to the ſtock of human happineſs, by plundering [112]mankind of that principle, by the deſtruction of which friendſhip is robbed of its bond, ſociety of its ſecurity, patience of its motive. morality of its foundation, integrity of its reward, ſorrow of its conſola⯑tion, life of its balm, and death of its ſupport.

It will not perhaps be one of the meaneſt advantages of a better ſtate, that as the will ſhall be reformed, ſo the judgment ſhall be rectified; that "evil ſhall no more be called good," nor the "churl liberal;" nor the plunderer of our beſt poſſeſſion, our [113]principles, benevolent. Then it will be evident that greater violence could not be done to truth and lan⯑guage, than to wreſt benevolence from chriſtianity, her moſt appro⯑priate and peculiar attribute. If be⯑nevolence be "good will to men," it was that which angelic meſſengers were not thought too high to an⯑nounce, nor a much higher being than angels too great to teach by his precepts, and to illuſtrate by his death: it was the criterion, the very watch-word as it were, by which he intended his religion and his follow⯑ers ſhould be diſtinguiſhed. "By [114]this ſhall all men know that ye are my diſciples, if ye love one another." Beſides, it is the very genius of chriſ⯑tianity to extirpate all ſelfiſhneſs, on whoſe vacated ground benevolence naturally and neceſſarily plants it⯑ſelf.

But not to run through all the particulars which obſtruct the growth of piety in young perſons, I ſhall only name one more. They hear much declamation from the faſhion⯑able reaſoners againſt the contracted and ſelfiſh ſpirit of chriſtianity, that it [115]is of a ſordid temper, works for pay, and looks for reward.

But this jargon of French philoſo⯑phy, which prates of pure diſinte⯑reſted goodneſs, acting for its own ſake, and equally deſpiſing puniſh⯑ment and diſdaining recompence, in⯑dicates as little knowledge of human nature as of chriſtian revelation, when it addreſſes man as a being made up of pure intellect, without any mixture of paſſions, and who can be made happy without hope, and virtuous without fear.

[116]A creature hurried away by the impulſe of ſome impetuous inclina⯑tion, is not likely to be reſtrained (if he be reſtrained at all) by a cold reflection on the beauty of virtue. If the dread of offending God, and incurring his everlaſting diſpleaſure cannot ſtop him, how ſhall a weaker motive do it? When we ſee that the powerful ſanctions which reli⯑gion holds out are too often an in⯑effectual curb: to think of attaining the ſame end by feebler means is as if one ſhould expect to make a watch go the better by breaking the main ſpring; nay, as abſurd as if the [117]philoſopher who inculcates the doc⯑trine, ſhould undertake with one of his fingers to lift an immenſe weight, which had reſiſted the powers of the crane and the lever.

On calm and temperate ſpirits indeed, in the hour of retirement, in the repoſe of the paſſions, in the abſence of temptation, virtue does ſeem to be her own adequate reward; and very lovely are the fruits ſhe bears, in preſerving health, credit and fortune. But on how few will this principle act! and even on them how often will its operation be ſuſ⯑pended! [118]And though virtue for her own ſake might have captivated a few hearts, which almoſt ſeem caſt in a natural mould of goodneſs; yet no motive could, at all times, be ſo likely to reſtrain even theſe, under the preſſure of temptation, as this ſimple aſſertion—For all this God will bring me into judgment.

But it is the beauty of our religion, that it is not held out excluſively to a few ſelect ſpirits, that it is not an object of ſpeculation, or an exer⯑ciſe of ingenuity, but a rule of life, ſuited to every condition, capacity, [119]and temper. It is the glory of the chriſtian religion to be, what it was the glory of every pagan inſtitution not to be, the religion of the people; and that which conſtitutes its charac⯑teriſtic value, is its ſuitableneſs to the genius, condition, and neceſſities of all mankind.

For with whatever obſcurities it has pleaſed God to ſhadow ſome parts of his written word, yet he has graciouſly ordered that whatever is neceſſary ſhould be perſpicuous alſo. And though "clouds and darkneſs are the habitation of his throne;" [120]yet they are not the medium through which he has left us to diſcover our duty. In this, as in all other points, it has a decided ſuperiority over all the ancient ſyſtems of philoſophy, which were always in many reſpects impracticable and extravagant, be⯑cauſe not framed from obſervations drawn from a perfect knowledge "of what was in men." Whereas the whole ſcheme of the Goſpel is ac⯑commodated to real human nature; laying open its mortal diſeaſe, pre⯑ſenting its only remedy; exhibiting rules of conduct, often difficult indeed, but never impoſſible; and where the [121]rule was ſo high that the practicability ſeemed deſperate, holding out a liv⯑ing pattern, to elucidate the doctrine and to illuſtrate the precept: offer⯑ing every where the cleareſt notions of what we have to hope, and what we have to fear; the ſtrongeſt injunc⯑tions of what we are to believe, and the moſt explicit directions of what we are to do.

In ſhort, whoever examines the wants of his own heart, and the ap⯑propriated aſſiſtance which the Goſpel furniſhes, will find them to be two tallies which exactly correſpond— [122]an internal evidence, ſtronger per⯑haps than any other, of the truth of revelation.

This is the religion with which the ingenuous hearts of youth ſhould be warmed, and by which their ſpirits, while pliant, ſhould be di⯑rected. This will afford a "lamp to their paths," ſtronger, ſteadier, brighter than the feeble and uncer⯑tain glimmer of a cold and com⯑fortleſs philoſophy.

CHAP. IV.

IT was by no means the deſign of the preſent undertaking to make a general invective on the corrupt ſtate of manners, or even to animad⯑vert on the conduct of the higher ranks, but inaſmuch as the cor⯑ruption [124]of that conduct, and the depravation of thoſe manners, appear to be a natural conſequence of the viſible decline of religion.

Of the other obvious cauſes which contribute to this decline of morals little will be ſaid. Nor is the pre⯑ſent a romantic attempt to reſtore the ſimplicity of primitive manners. This is too literally an age of gold, to expect that it ſhould be ſo in the poetical and figurative ſenſe. It would be unjuſt and abſurd not to form our opinions and expectations from the preſent general ſtate of ſociety. And it would argue great [125]ignorance of the corruption which commerce, and conqueſt, and riches, and arts neceſſarily introduce into a ſtate, to look for the ſame ſober-mindedneſs, ſimplicity, and purity among the dregs of Romulus, as the ſevere and ſimple manners of elder Rome preſented.

But though it would be an attempt of deſperate hardihood, to controvert that maxim of the witty bard, that ‘To mend the world's a vaſt deſign:’ Yet to make the beſt of the times in which we live; to fill up the [126]meaſure of our own actual, particular, and individual duties; and to take care that the age ſhall not be the worſe for our having been caſt into it, ſeems to be the bare dictate of common probity, and not a romantic flight of impracticable perfection.

But is it then ſo very chimerical to imagine that the benevolent can be ſober minded? Is it romantic to deſire that the good ſhould be conſiſtent? Is it abſurd to fancy that what has once been practiſed ſhould not now be impracticable?

[127]It is impoſſible then not to help regretting that it ſhould be the gene⯑ral temper of many of the leading perſons of that age which arrogates to itſelf the glorious character of the age of benevolence, to be kind, and conſiderate, and compaſſionate, every where rather than at home: that the rich and the faſhionable ſhould be zealous in promoting religious, as well as charitable inſtitutions abroad, and yet diſcourage every thing which looks like religion in their own fami⯑lies: that they ſhould be at a con⯑ſiderable expence in inſtructing the poor at a diſtance, and yet diſcredit [128]piety among their own ſervants— thoſe more immediate objects of every man's attention whom Providence has enabled to keep any, and for whoſe conduct he will be finally accounta⯑ble, inaſmuch as he has helped to corrupt it?

Is there any degree of pecuniary bounty without doors which can counteract the miſchief of a wrong example at home? or atone for that infectious laxity of principle, which ſpreads corruption wherever its influence extends? Is not he the beſt benefactor to ſociety who ſets [129]the beſt example, and who does, not only the moſt good, but the leaſt evil? Will not that man, however liberal, very imperfectly promote virtue in the world at large, who neg⯑lects to diſſeminate the principles of it within the immediate ſphere of his own perſonal influence, by a ſober conduct and a blameleſs behaviour? Can a generous but profligate perſon atone by his purſe for the diſorders of his life, or expect a bleſſing on his bounties, while he defeats their effect by a profane converſa⯑tion?

[130]In moral as well as political treatiſes, it is often aſſerted that it is a great evil to do no good: but it has not been perhaps enough inſiſted on, that it is a great good to do no evil. This ſpecies of goodneſs is not oſtenta⯑tious enough for popular declama⯑tion; and the value of this abſtinence from vice is perhaps not well under⯑ſtood but by chriſtians, becauſe it wants the oſtenſible brilliancy of actual performance.

But as the principles of chriſtianity are in no great repute, ſo their con⯑comitant qualities, the evangelical [131]virtues, are proportionably diſeſ⯑teemed. But thoſe ſecret habits of ſelf-controul, thoſe interior and un⯑obtruſive virtues, which excite no aſtoniſhment, kindle no emulation, and extort no praiſe, are yet the moſt difficult, and the moſt ſublime; and, if chriſtianity be true, will be the moſt graciouſly accepted by him who witneſſes the ſecret ſtruggle and the ſilent victory: while the ſplendid deeds which have the world for their witneſs, and immortal fame for their reward, ſhall perhaps coſt him who atchieved them leſs than it coſts a conſcientious chriſtian to ſubdue [132]one irregular inclination; a conqueſt which the world will never know, and if it did, would probably de⯑ſpiſe.

For though great actions perform⯑ed on human motives are permitted, by the great Diſpoſer, to be equally beneficial to ſociety with ſuch as are performed on purer principles; yet it is an affecting conſideration, that, at the final adjuſtment of ac⯑counts, the politician who raiſed a ſtate, or the hero who preſerved it, may miſs of that favour of God, which, if it was not his motive, will [133]probably not be his reward. And it is awful to reflect, as we viſit the monuments juſtly raiſed by public gratitude, or the ſtatues properly erected by well-earned admiration, on what may now be the unalterable ſtate of the illuſtrious object of theſe deſerved honours; and that he who has ſaved a ſtate may have loſt his own ſoul.

A chriſtian life ſeems to conſiſt of two things, almoſt equally difficult; the adoption of good habits, and the exciſion of ſuch as are evil. No one [134]ſets out on a religious courſe with a ſtock of native innocence, or actual freedom from ſin; for there is no ſuch ſtate in human life. The natu⯑ral heart is not a blank paper, where⯑on the divine ſpirit has nothing to do but to ſtamp characters of goodneſs; but many blots and defilements are to be eraſed, as well as freſh impreſ⯑ſions to be made.

The vigilant chriſtian therefore, who acts with an eye to the appro⯑bation of his Maker, rather than to that of makind; to a future ac⯑count, rather than to preſent glory; [135]will find, that, diligently to cultivate the "unweeded garden" of his own heart; to mend the ſoil; to clear the ground of its indigenous vices, by practiſing the painful buſineſs of ex⯑tirpation; will be that part of his duty which will coſt him moſt labour, and bring him leaſt credit: while the fair flower of one ſhewy action, produced with little trouble, and of which the pleaſure is reward enough, ſhall gain him more praiſe than the eradication of the rankeſt weeds which overrun the natural heart.

But the Goſpel judges not after [136]the manner of men; for it never fails to make the abſtinent virtues a previous ſtep to the right perform⯑ance of the operative ones; and the relinquiſhing what is wrong to be a neceſſary prelude to the perform⯑ance of what is right. It makes "ceaſing to do evil" the indiſpen⯑ſable preliminary to "learning to do well." It continually ſuggeſts that ſomething is to be laid aſide as well as to be practiſed. We muſt "hate vain thoughts" before we can "love God's law." We muſt lay aſide "malice and hypocriſy," to enable us "to receive the engrafted word."

[137]—Having "a conſcience void of offence;" "abſtaining from fleſhly luſts;" "bringing every thought into obedience"—theſe are actions, or rather negations, which, though they never will obtain immortality from the chiſel of the ſtatuary, the declamation of the hiſtorian, or the panegyric of the poet, ſerve how⯑ever to conſtitute the true chriſtian temper, to promote heavenly mind⯑edneſs, and to procure the divine favour.

And for our encouragement, it is obſervable that a more difficult chriſ⯑tian [138]virtue generally involves an eaſier one. An habit of ſelf-denial in permitted pleaſures eaſily induces a victory over ſuch as are unlawful. And to ſit looſe to our own poſſeſ⯑ſions, neceſſarily includes an ex⯑emption from coveting thoſe of others; and ſo on of the reſt.

Will it be difficult then to trace back to that want of early reſtraint noticed in the preceding chapter, that licence of behaviour which, having been indulged in youth, afterwards reigns uncontrouled in families; and having infected edu⯑cation [139]in its firſt ſprings, taints all the ſtreams of domeſtic virtue? Nor is it ſtrange that that ſame want of religious principle which corrupted our children, ſhould corrupt our ſervants.

We ſcarcely go into any company without hearing ſome invective againſt the increaſed profligacy of this order of men; and the remark is made with as great an air of aſ⯑toniſhment, as if the cauſe of the complaint were not as viſible as the truth of it. It would be endleſs to point out inſtances in which the in⯑creaſed [140]diſſipation of their betters (as they are oddly called) has con⯑tributed to the growth of this evil. But it comes only within the imme⯑diate deſign of the preſent under⯑taking, to inſiſt on the ſingle circum⯑ſtance of the almoſt total extermi⯑nation of religion in faſhionable families, as a cauſe, adequate of itſelf, to any conſequence which de⯑praved morals can produce.

Is there not a degree of injuſtice in perſons who diſcover ſtrong in⯑dignation at thoſe crimes which crowd our priſons, and furniſh [141]our inceſſant executions, and yet diſcourage not an internal principle of vice; ſince thoſe crimes are no⯑thing more than that principle put into action? And it is no leſs abſurd than cruel in ſuch of the great as lead diſorderly lives, to expect to prevent vice by the laws they make to reſtrain or puniſh it, while their own example is a perpetual ſource of temptation to commit it. If by their own practice they demonſtrate that they think a vicious life is the only happy one, with what colour of juſtice can they inflict penalties on others, who, by acting on the ſame [142]principle, expect the ſame indul⯑gence?

And indeed it is ſomewhat un⯑reaſonable to expect very high de⯑grees of virtue and probity from a claſs of people whoſe whole life, after they are admitted into diſſipated families, is one continued counterac⯑tion of the principles in which they have probably been bred.

When a poor youth is tranſplanted from one of thoſe excellent inſtitu⯑tions which do honour to the preſent age, and give ſome hope of reform⯑ing [143]the next, into the family, perhaps, of his noble benefactor, who has provided liberally for his inſtruc⯑tion; what muſt be his aſtoniſhment at finding the manner of life to which he is introduced diametrically oppoſite to that life, to which he has been taught that ſalvation is alone annexed! He has been trained in a wholeſome terror of gaming: but now his intereſts and paſſions are forcibly engaged on the ſide of play, ſince the very profits of his place are made ſyſtematically to depend on the card-table. He has been taught that it was his bounden duty to be devoutly [144]thankful for his own ſcanty meal, perhaps of barley bread; yet he ſees his noble lord ſit down every day, ‘Not to a dinner, but a hecatomb;’ To a repaſt for which every element is plundered, and every climate im⯑poveriſhed; for which nature is ranſacked, and art is exhauſted; without even the formal ceremony of a ſlight acknowledgment. It will be lucky for the maſter, if his ſervant does not happen to know that even the pagans never ſat down to a repaſt without making a libation to their deities; and that the Jews did not eat a little fruit, or drink a [145]cup of water, without an expreſſion of devout thankfulneſs.

Next to the law of God, he has been taught to reverence the law of the land; and to reſpect an act of parliament next to a text of Scrip⯑ture: yet he ſees his honourable protector, publicly in his own houſe, engaged in the evening in playing at a game expreſsly prohibited by the laws, and againſt which perhaps he himſelf had aſſiſted in the day to paſs an act.

While the contempt of religion [146]was confined to wits and philoſo⯑phers, the effect was not ſo ſenſibly felt. But we cannot congratulate the ordinary race of mortals on their emancipation from old prejudices, or their indifference to ſacred uſages; as it is not at all viſible that the world is become happier in propor⯑tion as it is become more enlightened. We might rejoice more in the boaſted diffuſion of light and freedom, were it not apparent that bankruptcies are grown more frequent, robberies more common, divorces more numerous, and forgeries more extenſive—that more rich men die by their own [147]hand, and more poor men by the hand of the executioner—than when chriſtianity was practiſed by the vul⯑gar, and countenanced, at leaſt, by the great.

Is it not to be regretted therefore, while the affluent are encouraging ſo many admirable ſchemes for promot⯑ing religion among the children of the poor, that they do not like to perpetuate the principle, by encourag⯑ing it in their ſervants alſo? Is it not pity, ſince theſe are ſo moderately furniſhed with the good things of this life, to rob them of that bright [148]reverſion, the bare hope of which is a counterpoiſe to all the hardſhips they undergo here—eſpecially ſince, by diminiſhing this future hope, we ſhall not be likely to add to their preſent uſefulneſs?

Still allowing, what has been already granted, that abſolute infi⯑delity is not the reigning evil, and that ſervants will perhaps be more likely to ſee religion neglected than to hear it ridiculed; would it not be a meritorious kindneſs, in families of a better ſtamp, to furniſh them with more opportunities of learning [149]and practiſing their duty? Is it not impolitic indeed, as well as unkind, to refuſe them any means of having impreſſed on their conſciences the operative principles of chriſtianity? It is but little, barely not to oppoſe their going to church, or doing their duty at home, unleſs their opportu⯑nities of doing both are facilitated, by giving them, at certain ſeaſons, as few employments as poſſible that may interfere with both. Even when religion is by pretty general conſent baniſhed from our families, that only furniſhes a ſtronger rea⯑ſon why our families ſhould not [150]be baniſhed from religion in the churches.

But if theſe opportunities are not made eaſy and convenient to them, their ſuperiors have no right to ex⯑pect from them a zeal ſo far tranſ⯑cending their own, as to induce them to ſurmount difficulties for the ſake of their duty. Religion is never once repreſented in ſcripture as a light attainment; it is never once illuſtrated by an eaſy, a quiet, or an indolent allegory. On the contrary, it is exhibited under the active figure of a combat, a race; ſomething ex⯑preſſive [151]of exertion, activity, pro⯑greſs. And yet many are unjuſt enough to think that this warfare can be fought, though they are per⯑petually weakening the vigour of the combatant; this race be run, though they are inceſſantly obſtruct⯑ing the progreſs of him who runs by ſome hard and interfering com⯑mand. That that compaſſionate judge who cannot but be particularly touched with the feeling of their infirmities, will tenderly allow for their trials, and be merciful to their failings, can never be doubted; but what portion of that forgiveneſs he [152]will extend to thoſe who lay on their virtue hard burdens "too heavy for them to bear," who ſhall ſay?

To keep any immortal being in a ſtate of ſpiritual darkneſs, is a poſi⯑tive diſobedience to His law, who when he beſtowed the Bible, no leſs than when he created the material world, ſaid, Let there be light. It were well for both the advantage of maſter and ſervant, that the latter ſhould have the doctrines of the Goſ⯑pel frequently impreſſed on his heart, that his conſcience ſhould be made familiar with a ſyſtem which offers [153]ſuch clear and intelligible propoſi⯑tions of moral duty. The ſtriking interrogation, "how ſhall I do this great wickedneſs, and ſin againſt God?" will perhaps operate as forcibly on an uncultivated mind, as the moſt eloquent eſſay, to prove that man is not an accountable being. That once credited promiſe, that "they who have done well ſhall go into everlaſting life," will be more grateful to the ſpirit of a plain man, than that more elegant and diſinte⯑reſted aphoriſm, that virtue is its own reward. That "he that walketh uprightly walketh ſurely," is not on [154]the whole a dangerous or a miſlead⯑ing maxim. And "well done, good and faithful ſervant! I will make thee ruler over many things," though offenſive to the liberal ſpirit of phi⯑loſophic dignity, is a comfortable ſupport to humble and ſuffering piety. That "we ſhould do to others as we would they ſhould do to us," is a portable and compendi⯑ous meaſure of ſocial duty, always at hand, as always referring to ſome⯑thing within himſelf, not amiſs for a poor man to carry conſtantly about with him, who has neither time nor learning to ſearch for a better. All [155]Seneca's arguments againſt the fear of death, never yet reconciled one reader to its approach, half ſo effec⯑tually as the humble believer is reconciled to it by that ſimple per⯑ſuaſion, "I know that my Redeemer liveth."

While the modern philoſopher is extending the boundaries of human knowledge, by undertaking to prove that matter is eternal; or enlarging the ſtock of human happineſs, by demonſtrating the extinction of ſpirit; it can do no harm to an un⯑lettered man to believe, that "heaven [156]and earth ſhall paſs away, but God's word ſhall not paſs away." While the former is indulging the profitable enquiry why the Deity made the world ſo late, or why he made it at all, it will not hurt the latter to believe that "in the beginning God made the world," and that in the end "he ſhall judge it in righteouſneſs." While the one is criticiſing the creed, he will be no loſer by encouraging the other to keep the command⯑ments.

For it is a very valuable part of chriſtianity, that though it is an en⯑tire [157]and perfect ſyſtem in its deſign; though it exhibits one great plan, from which complete trains of argu⯑ment, and connected ſchemes of reaſoning, may be deduced; yet, in compaſſion to the multitude, for whom this benevolent inſtitution was in a good meaſure deſigned, and who could not have comprehended a long chain of propoſitions, or have embraced remote deductions; the moſt important truths of doctrine, and the moſt eſſential documents of virtue, are detailed in ſingle maxims, and compriſed in ſhort ſentences; independent of themſelves, yet mak⯑ing [158]a neceſſary part of a conſummate whole; from a few of which elemen⯑tary principles the whole train of human virtues has been deduced, and many a perfect body of ethics has been framed.

CHAP. V.

IT is an objection frequently brought againſt chriſtianity, that if it exhibited ſo perfect a ſcheme, [160]if its influences were as ſtrong, if its effects were as powerful, as its friends pretend, it muſt have pro⯑duced more viſible conſequences in the reformation of mankind. This is not the place fully to anſwer this ob⯑jection, which (like all the other cavils againſt our religion) continues to be urged juſt as if it never had been anſwered.

That vice and immorality prevail in no ſmall degree, in countries pro⯑feſſing chriſtianity, we need not go out of our own to be convinced. But that this is the caſe only becauſe [161]this benign principle is not ſuffered to operate in its full power, will be no leſs obvious to all who are ſincere in their enquiries. For, if we allow (and who that examines impartially can help allowing?) that it is the na⯑tural tendency of chriſtianity to make men better, then it muſt be the averſion to receiving it, and not the fault of the principle, which prevents them from becoming ſo.

Thoſe who are acquainted with the effects it actually produced in the firſt ages of the church, when it was received in its genuine purity, [162]and when it did operate, without ob⯑ſtruction, from its followers at leaſt, will want no other proof of its inhe⯑rent power and efficacy. At that period, its moſt decided and induſ⯑trious enemy, the emperor Julian, could recommend the manners of the Galileans to the imitation of his pagan high prieſt; though he him⯑ſelf, at the ſame time, was doing every thing which the moſt invete⯑rate malice, ſharpened by the acuteſt wit, and backed by the moſt abſolute power, could deviſe, to diſcredit their doctrines.

[163]Nor would the efficacy of chriſ⯑tianity be leſs viſible now, in influ⯑encing the conduct of its profeſſors, if its principles were heartily and ſincerely received. They would operate on the conduct ſo effectually, that we ſhould ſee morals and man⯑ners growing out of principles, as ſpontaneouſly and neceſſarily as we ſee other conſequences grow out of their proper and natural cauſes. Let but this great ſpring have its unobſtructed play, and there would be little occaſion to declaim againſt this exceſs or that enormity. If the ſame ſkill and care which are em⯑ployed [164]in curing ſymptoms, were vigorouſly levelled at the internal principle of the diſeaſe, the moral health would feel the benefit. If that attention which is beſtowed in lopping the redundant and unſightly branches were devoted to the cultivation of a ſound and uncorrupt root, the ef⯑fect of this labour would ſoon be diſcovered by the excellence of the fruits.

For though even in the higheſt poſſible exertion of religious princi⯑ple, and the moſt diligent practice of all its conſequential train of virtues, [165]man would ſtill find evil propenſities enough in his fallen nature, to make it neceſſary that he ſhould counteract them, by keeping alive his diligence after higher attainments, and to quicken his aſpirations after a better ſtate; yet the prevailing temper would be in general right, the will would be in a great meaſure recti⯑fied; and the heart, feeling and ac⯑knowledging its diſeaſe, would ap⯑ply itſelf diligently to the only re⯑medy. For though even the beſt men have infirmities enough to de⯑plore, commit ſins enough to keep them deeply humble, and feel more [166]ſenſibly than others the imperfec⯑tions of that veſſel in which their heavenly treaſure is hid: theſe how⯑ever have the internal conſolation of knowing that they ſhall have to reckon with one who "knoweth whereof they are made;" who will accept of faith and repentance in⯑ſtead of ſinleſs perfection, and of humble ſincerity in lieu of intire holineſs.

All the heavy charges which have been brought againſt religion, have been taken from the abuſes of it. In every other inſtance the injuſtice [167]of this proceeding would be notori⯑ous: but there is a general want of candour in the judgment of men on this ſubject, which we do not find them exerciſe on other occaſions; that of throwing the fault of the erring or ignorant profeſſor on the profeſſion itſelf.

It does not derogate from the honourable profeſſion of arms, that there are cowards and braggards. If any man loſe his eſtate by the chi⯑canery of an attorney, or his health by the blunder of a phyſician, it is commonly ſaid that the one was a [168]diſgrace to his buſineſs, and the other was ignorant of it; but no one there⯑fore concludes that law and phyſic are contemptible profeſſions.

Chriſtianity alone is obliged to bear all the obloquy incurred by the miſconduct of its followers; to ſuſ⯑tain all the reproach excited by ignorant, by fanatical, by ſuperſti⯑tious, or hypocritical profeſſors. But whoever accuſes it of a tendency to produce the errors of theſe profeſ⯑ſors, muſt have picked up his opi⯑nion any where rather than in the New Teſtament, which being the [169]only authentic hiſtory of chriſtianity, is that which candour would natu⯑rally conſult for information.

But as worldly and irreligious men do not draw their notions from that pure fountain, but from the polluted ſtream of human practice; as they form their judgment of divine truth, from the conduct of thoſe who pretend to be enlightened by it; ſome charitable allowance muſt be made for the contempt which they entertain for chriſtianity, when they ſee what poor effects it produces in the lives of the gene⯑rality [170]of profeſſing chriſtians. What do they obſerve there which can lead them to entertain very high ideas of the principles which give birth to ſuch practices?

Do men of the world diſcover any marked, any decided difference be⯑tween the conduct of nominal chriſ⯑tians, and that of the reſt of their neighbours, who pretend to no reli⯑gion at all? Do they ſee in the daily lives of ſuch any great abundance of thoſe fruits by which they have heard believers are to be known? On the contrary, do they not diſcern [171]in them the ſame anxious and un⯑wearied purſuit after the things of earth, as in thoſe who do not profeſs to have any thought of heaven? Do not they ſee them labour as ſedu⯑louſly in the intereſts of a debaſing and frivolous diſſipation, as thoſe who do not pretend to have any nobler object in view? Is there not the ſame eagerneſs to plunge into all ſorts of follies themſelves, and the ſame unrighteous ſpeed in introduc⯑ing their children to them, as if they had never entered into a ſolemn engagement to renounce them? Is there not the ſame ſelf-indulgence, [172]the ſame luxury, and the fame paſ⯑ſionate attachment to the things of this world in them, as is viſible in thoſe who do not look for another?

Do not thoughtleſs neglect and habitual diſſipation anſwer, as to ſociety, all the ends of the moſt de⯑cided infidelity? Between the barely decent and the openly profane, there is indeed this difference; that the one, by making no profeſſion, deceives neither the world nor his own heart; while the other, by intrenching him⯑ſelf in forms, fancies that he does ſomething, and thanks God that "he [173]is not like this publican." The one only ſhuts his eyes upon the danger which the other deſpiſes.

But theſe unfruitful profeſſors would do well to recollect, that, by a conduct ſo little worthy of their high calling, they not only violate the law to which they have vowed obe⯑dience, but occaſion many to diſbe⯑lieve or to deſpiſe it; that they are thus in a great meaſure account⯑able for the infidelity of others, and of courſe will have to anſwer for more than their own perſonal of⯑fences. For did they in any reſpect [174]live up to the principles they profeſs; did they adorn the doctrines of chriſ⯑tianity by a life in any degree conſo⯑nant to their faith; did they exhibit any thing of the "beauty of holi⯑neſs" in their daily converſation; they would then give ſuch a demon⯑ſtrative proof, not only of the ſince⯑rity of their own obedience, but of the brightneſs of that divine light by which they profeſs to walk, that the moſt determined unbeliever would at laſt begin to think there muſt be ſomething in a religion of which the effects were ſo viſible and the fruits ſo amiable; and might in time be [175]led to "glorify," not them, not the imperfect doers of theſe works, but, "their Father which is in heaven." Whereas, as things are at preſent carried on, the obvious concluſion muſt be, either that chriſtians do not believe in the religion they profeſs, or that there is no truth in the reli⯑gion itſelf.

For will he not naturally ſay, that, if its influences were ſo predominant, its conſequences muſt be more evi⯑dent? that, if the prize held, out were really ſo bright, thoſe who truly believed ſo would ſurely do ſome⯑thing, [176]and ſacrifice ſomething to ob⯑tain it?

This effect of the careleſs conduct of believers on the hearts of others, will probably be a heavy aggravation of their own guilt at the final rec⯑koning: and there is no negligent chriſtian can gueſs where the infec⯑tion of his example may ſtop; or how remotely it may be pleaded, as a palliation of the ſins of others, who either may think themſelves ſafe while they are only doing what chriſtians allow themſelves to do; or who may adduce a chriſtian's habitual [177]violation of the divine law, as a pre⯑ſumptive evidence that there is no truth in chriſtianity.

This ſwells the amount of the actual miſchief beyond calculation. And there is ſomething terrible in the idea of this ſort of indefinite evil, that the careleſs chriſtian can never know the extent of the con⯑tagion he ſpreads, nor the multi⯑plied infection which they may com⯑municate in their turn, whom his diſ⯑orders firſt corrupted.

And there is this farther aggrava⯑tion [178]of his offence, that he will not only be anſwerable for all the poſi⯑tive evil of which his example is the cauſe; but for the omiſſion of all the probable good which might have been called forth in others, had his actions been conſiſtent with his profeſſion. What a ſtrong, what an almoſt irreſiſtible conviction would it carry to the hearts of un⯑believers, if they beheld that charac⯑teriſtic difference in the manners of chriſtians, which their profeſſion gives one a right to expect! if they ſaw that diſintereſtedneſs, that humi⯑lity, ſober-mindedneſs, temperance, [179]ſimplicity, and ſincerity, which are the unavoidable fruits of a genuine faith!

But, while a man talks like a ſaint, and yet lives like a ſinner; while he profeſſes to believe like an apoſtle, and yet leads the life of a ſenſualiſt; talks of an ardent faith, and yet ex⯑hibits a cold and low practice; boaſts himſelf the diſciple of a meek maſter, and yet is as much a ſlave to his paſſions as they who acknowledge no ſuch authority; while he appears the proud profeſſor of an humble religion, or the intemperate champion [180]of a ſelf-denying one: ſuch a man brings chriſtianity into diſrepute; confirms thoſe in error who might have been awakened to conviction; ſtrengthens doubt into diſbelief, and hardens indifference into contempt.

Even among thoſe of a better caſt, and a purer principle, the exceſſive reſtraints of timidity, caution, and that "fear of man, which bringeth a ſnare," confine, and almoſt ſtifle the generous ſpirit of an ardent ex⯑ertion in the cauſe of religion. Chriſ⯑tianity may pathetically expoſtulate, that it is not always "an open enemy [181]which diſhonours her," but her "fa⯑miliar friend." And, "what doſt thou more than others?" is a queſtion which even the good and worthy ſhould often aſk themſelves, in order to quicken their zeal; to prevent the total ſtagnation of unexerted prin⯑ciples, on the one hand; or the dan⯑ger, on the other, of their being driven down the gulf of ruin, by the unreſiſted and confluent tides of temptation, faſhion, and example.

In a very ſtrict and mortified age, of which a ſcrupulous ſeverity was the predominant character, precau⯑tions [182]againſt an exceſſive zeal might, and doubtleſs would, be a wholeſome and prudent meaſure. But in theſe times of relaxed principle and frigid indifference, to ſee people ſo vigi⯑lantly on their guard againſt the imaginary miſchiefs of enthuſiaſm, while they run headlong into the real oppoſite perils of a deſtructive licentiouſneſs, puts one in mind of the one-eyed animal in the fable; who, living on the banks of the ocean, never fancied he could be deſtroyed any way but by drowning: but, while he kept that one eye conſtantly fixed on the ſea, on which [183]ſide he concluded all the peril lay, he was devoured by an enemy on the dry land, from which quarter he never ſuſpected any danger.

Are not the miſchiefs of an enthu⯑ſiaſtic piety inſiſted on with as much earneſtneſs as if an extravagant de⯑votion were the prevailing propen⯑ſity? Is not the neceſſity of modera⯑tion as vehemently urged as if an intemperate zeal were the epidemic diſtemper of the great world? as if all our apparent danger and natural bias lay on the ſide of a too rigid auſterity, which required the diſcreet [184]and conſtant counteraction of an oppoſite principle? Would not a ſtranger be almoſt tempted to ima⯑gine, from the frequent invectives againſt extreme ſtrictneſs, that ab⯑ſtraction from the world, and a mo⯑naſtic rage for retreat, were the ruling temper; that we were in ſome dan⯑ger of ſeeing our places of diverſion abandoned; and the enthuſiaſtic ſcenes of the Holy Fathers of the deſert acted over again by the frantic and uncontroulable devotion of our young perſons of faſhion?

It is ſeriouſly to be regretted, [185]in an age like the preſent, remarkable for indifference in religion and levity in manners, and which ſtands ſo much in need of lively patterns of firm and reſolute piety, that many who really are chriſtians on the ſobereſt con⯑viction, ſhould not appear more openly and decidedly on the ſide they have eſpouſed; that they aſſimilate ſo very much with the manners of thoſe about them (which manners they yet ſcruple not to diſ⯑approve); and, inſtead of an avow⯑ed but prudent ſteadfaſtneſs, which might draw over the others, appear evidently fearful of being thought [186]preciſe and over-ſcrupulous; and ac⯑tually ſeem to diſavow their right principles, by conceſſions and ac⯑commodations not ſtrictly conſiſtent with them. They often ſeem cautiouſ⯑ly afraid of doing too much, and going too far; and the dangerous plea, the neceſſity of living like other people, of being like the reſt of the world, and the propriety of not being particular, is brought as a reaſonable apology for a too yielding and indiſcriminate conformity.

But, at a time when almoſt all are ſinking into the prevailing cor⯑ruption, [187]how beautiful a rare, a ſin⯑gle integrity is, let the inſtances of Lot and Noah declare. And to thoſe with whom a poem is an higher authority than the Bible, let me re⯑commend the moſt animated picture of a righteous ſingularity that ever was delineated, in

[188]Few indeed of the more orderly and decent have any objection to that degree of religion which is compatible with their general ac⯑ceptance with others, or the full en⯑joyment of their own pleaſures. For a formal and ceremonious exerciſe of the outward duties of chriſtianity may not only be kept up without exciting cenſure, but will even pro⯑cure a certain reſpect and confi⯑dence; and is not quite irreconcile⯑able with a voluptuous and diſſipated life. So far many go; and ſo far as "godlineſs is profitable to the life that is," it paſſes without reproach.

[189]But as ſoon as men begin to con⯑ſider religious exerciſes not as a de⯑cency, but a duty; not as a com⯑mutation for a ſelf-denying life, but as a means to promote a holy temper, and a virtuous conduct: as ſoon as they feel diſpoſed to carry the effect of their devotion into their daily life: as ſoon as their principles diſcover themſelves, by leading them to with⯑draw from thoſe ſcenes, and abſtain⯑ing from thoſe actions, in which the gay place their ſupreme happineſs: as ſoon as ſomething is to be done, and ſomething is to be parted with; then the world begins to take offence, [190]and to ſtigmatize the activity of that piety, which had been commended as long as it remained inoperative, and had only evaporated in words.

But when religion, like the vital principle, takes its ſeat in the heart, and ſends out ſupplies of life and heat to every part; diffuſes motion, ſoul, and vigour, through the whole circulation; and informs and ani⯑mates the whole man: when it operates on the practice, influences the converſation, breaks out into a lively zeal for the honour of God, and the beſt intereſts of mankind; [191]then the ſincerity, or the underſtand⯑ing, of that perſon will become queſtionable: and it muſt be owing to a very fortunate combination of circumſtances indeed, if he can at once preſerve the character of parts and piety.

But it is a folly to talk of being too holy, too ſtrict, or too good. Where there happens to appear ſome foundation for the charge of enthu⯑ſiaſm (as there are indeed too often in good people eccentricities which juſtify the cenſure), we may depend upon it, that it proceeds from ſome [192]defect in the judgment, and not from any exceſs in the piety; for in good⯑neſs there is no exceſs: and it is as prepoſterous to ſay that any one is too good, or too pious, as that he is too wiſe, too ſtrong, or too healthy; ſince the higheſt point in all theſe is only the perfection of that quality which we admired in a lower degree. There may be an imprudent, but there cannot be a ſuperabundant goodneſs. An ardent imagination may miſlead a rightly turned heart; and a weak in⯑tellect may incline the beſt intention⯑ed to aſcribe too much value to things of comparatively ſmall importance. [193]And even well-meaning men, as well as hypocrites, may think too much is done when their "mint" and "aniſe" are rigorouſly tithed.

But in obſerving the "weightier matters of the law," in the practice of univerſal holineſs, in the love of God, there can be no poſſibility of exceeding, while there is no limita⯑tion in the command. We are in no danger of loving our neighbour better than ourſelves; and let us remem⯑ber, that we do not go beyond, but fall ſhort of our duty, while we love him leſs. If we were commanded to [194]love God with ſome of our heart, with part of our ſoul, and a portion of our ſtrength, there would then be ſome colour for thoſe perpetual cavils about the proportion of love, and the degree of obedience, which are due to him. But as the command is ſo definite, ſo abſolute, ſo comprehen⯑ſive, ſo entire; nothing can be more abſurd than that unmeaning, but not unfrequent charge brought againſt ſerious perſons, that they are too ſtrict.

The foundation of this ſilly cenſure is commonly laid in the firſt princi⯑ples of education, where an early [195]ſeparation is ſyſtematically made between duty and pleaſure. One of the firſt baits held out for the en⯑couragement of children, is, that when they have done their duty, they will be intitled to ſome pleaſure; thus forcibly disjoining what ſhould be conſidered as inſeparable. And there is not a more common juſtifi⯑cation of that idle and diſſipated manner in which the ſecond half of the Sunday is commonly ſpent, even by thoſe who make a conſcience of ſpending the former part properly, than that, "now they have done [196]their duty, they may take their plea⯑ſure."

But while chriſtian obſervances are conſidered as taſks, which are to be got over to intitle us to ſomething more pleaſant; as a burthen which we muſt endure in order to propitiate an inexorable Judge, who makes a hard bargain with his creatures, and allows them juſt ſo much amuſement in pay for ſo much drudgery; we muſt not wonder that ſuch low views are entertained of chriſtianity, and that a religious life is reprobated as ſtrict and rigid.

[197]But to him who acts from the nobler motive of love, and the ani⯑mating power of the chriſtian hope, the exerciſe is the reward, the per⯑miſſion is the privilege, the work is the wages. He does not carve out ſome miſerable pleaſure, and ſtipulate for ſome meagre diverſion, to pay himſelf for the hard performance of his duty, who in that very perform⯑ance experiences the higheſt pleaſure, and feels the trueſt gratification of which his nature is capable.

This reprobated ſtrictneſs there⯑fore, ſo far from being the ſource of [198]diſcomfort and miſery, as is pre⯑tended, is in reality the true cauſe of actual enjoyment, by laying the axe to the root of all thoſe turbu⯑lent and uneaſy paſſions, the unre⯑ſerved and yet imperfect gratifica⯑tion of which does ſo much more tend to diſturb our happineſs than that ſelf-government chriſtianity en⯑joins.

But all precepts ſeem rigorous, all obſervances are really hard, where there is not an entire conviction of God's right to our obedience, and an internal principle of faith and [199]love to make that obedience pleaſant. A religious life is indeed a hard bondage to one immerſed in the practices of the world, the fleſh, and the faſhion. To a perfect chriſ⯑tian, it is "perfect freedom." He does not now abſtain from ſuch and ſuch things, merely becauſe they are forbidden (as he did in the firſt ſtages of his progreſs), but becauſe his ſoul has no longer any pleaſure in them. And it would be the ſevereſt of all puniſhments to oblige him to return to thoſe practices, from which he once abſtained with [200]difficulty, and through the leſs noble principle of fear.

There is not therefore perhaps a greater miſtake than that common notion entertained by the more orderly part of the faſhionable world, that a little religion will make people happy, but that an high degree of it is incompatible with all enjoyment. For ſurely that religion can add little to a man's happineſs which reſtrains him from the commiſſion of a wrong action, but which does not pretend to extinguiſh the bad principle from which the act proceeded. A reli⯑gion [201]which ties the hands, without changing the heart; which, like the hell of Tantalus, ſubdues not the deſire, yet forbids the gratification, is indeed an uncomfortable ſtate. Such a religion, though it may gain a man ſomething on the ſide of re⯑putation, will give him but little inward comfort, if his heart be ſtill left a prey to that temper which produced the evil, even though ter⯑ror or ſhame may have prevented the outward act.

That people devoted to the pur⯑ſuits of a diſſipated life ſhould con⯑ceive of religion as a difficult and [202]even unattainable ſtate, it is eaſy to believe. That they ſhould conceive of it as an unhappy ſtate, is the conſummation of their error and their ignorance: for that a rational being ſhould have his underſtanding en⯑lightened; that an immortal being ſhould have his views extended and enlarged; that a helpleſs being ſhould have a conſciouſneſs of aſſiſtance; a ſinful being the proſpect of pardon; or a fallen one the aſſurance of re⯑ſtoration, does not ſeem a probable ground of unhappineſs; and on any other ſubject ſuch reaſoning would not be admiſſible.

CHAP. VI.

THE chriſtian religion is not intended, as ſome of its faſhion⯑able [204]profeſſors ſeem to fancy, to operate as a charm, a taliſman, or incantation; and to produce its effect by our pronouncing certain myſtical words, attending at certain conſe⯑crated places, and performing certain hallowed ceremonies: but it is an active, vital, inſluential principle, operating on the heart, reſtraining the deſires, affecting the general conduct, and as much regulating our commerce with the world, our buſineſs, pleaſures, and enjoyments, our converſations, deſigns and ac⯑tions, as our behaviour in public worſhip, or even in private devotion.

[205]That the effects of ſuch a principle are ſtrikingly viſible in the lives and manners of the generality of thoſe who give the law to faſhion, will not perhaps be inſiſted on. And indeed the whole preſent ſyſtem of faſhion⯑able life is utterly deſtructive of ſeriouſneſs. To inſtance only in one particular amuſement, which is ge⯑nerally thought inſignificant, and is in effect ſo vapid, that one almoſt wonders how it can be dangerous: it would excite laugh⯑ter, becauſe we are ſo broke into the habit, were I to inſiſt on the immorality of paſſing one's whole [206]life in a crowd. But thoſe promiſ⯑cuous myriads which compoſe the ſociety, falſely ſo called, of the gay world; who are brought together without eſteem, remain without plea⯑ſure, and part without regret; who live in a round of diverſions, the poſſeſſion of which is ſo joyleſs, though the abſence is ſo inſupport⯑able; theſe, by the mere force of in⯑ceſſant and indiſcriminate aſſociation, weaken, and in time wear out, the beſt feelings and affections of the human heart. And the mere ſpirit of diſſipation, thus contracted from invariable habit, even detached from [207]all its concomitant evils, is in itſelf as hoſtile to a religious ſpirit, as more poſitive and actual offences. Far be it from me to ſay that it is as criminal; I only inſiſt that it is as oppoſite to that heavenly minded⯑neſs which is the eſſence of the chriſtian temper.

We know that in the mingled maſs which celebrate the orgies of diſſipation, are many amiable and well-inclined hearts, whom nothing but the tyranny of faſhion could have driven thither. But let us ſup⯑poſe an ignorant and unprejudiced [206] [...] [207] [...] [208]ſpectator, who ſhould have been taught the theory of all the religions on the globe, brought hither from the other hemiſphere. Set him down in the politeſt part of our capital, and let him determine, if he can, except from what he ſhall ſee inter⯑woven in the texture of our laws, and kept up in the ſervice of our churches, to what particular religion we belong. Let him not mix en⯑tirely with the moſt flagitious, but only with the moſt faſhionable; at leaſt, let him keep what they them⯑ſelves call the beſt company. Let him ſcrutinize into the manners, [209]cuſtoms, converſations, habits, and diverſions, moſt in vogue, and then infer what is the eſtabliſhed religion of the land.

That it could not be the Jewiſh he would ſoon diſcover; for of rites, ceremonies, and external obſerv⯑ances, he would trace but ſlender remains. He would be equally convinced that it could not be the religion of old Greece and Rome; for that enjoined reverence to the Gods, and inculcated obedience to the laws. His moſt probable con⯑cluſion would be in favour of the [210]Mahometan faith, did not the ex⯑ceſſive indulgence of ſome of the moſt diſtinguiſhed, in an article of intemperance prohibited even by the ſenſual Prophet of Arabia, defeat that conjecture.

How would the petrified enquirer be aſtoniſhed, if he were told that all theſe were of a religion meek, ſpiritual, ſelf-denying; of which poverty of ſpirit, a renewed mind, and non-conformity to the world, were ſpecific diſtinctions!

When he ſaw the ſons of men of [211]fortune, ſcarcely old enough to be ſent to ſchool, admitted to be ſpec⯑tators of the turbulent and unnatural diverſions of racing and gaming; and the almoſt infant daughters, even of wiſe and virtuous mothers (an innovation which faſhion herſelf for⯑bad till now), carried with moſt un⯑thrifty anticipation to the frequent and late-protracted ball; would he believe that we were of a religion which has required from theſe very parents, a ſolemn vow that theſe children ſhould be bred up "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord?"

[212]When he beheld thoſe nocturnal clubs, ſo ſubverſive of private virtue and domeſtic happineſs, would he conceive that we were of a religion which in expreſs terms "exhorts young men to be ſober-minded?"

When he ſaw thoſe magnificent and brightly-illuminated ſtructures which decorate and diſgrace the very precincts of the royal reſidence (ſo free itſelf from all theſe pollutions); when he beheld the nightly offerings made to the demon of play, on whoſe cruel altar the fortune and happineſs of wives and children are offered up [213]without remorſe; would he not con⯑clude that we were of ſome of thoſe barbarous religions which enjoin un⯑natural ſacrifices, and whoſe horrid deities are appeaſed with nothing leſs than human victims? If any thing could add to his aſtoniſhment, it muſt be to obſerve, in ſome more private temples of this demon, that the fair ſacrifice is often a voluntary one, ſelf-offered, and is at once both prieſteſs and victim.

Now ought we not to pardon our imaginary ſpectator, if he ſhould not at once conclude that all the [214]various deſcriptions of perſons, above noticed, profeſſed the chriſtian reli⯑gion; ſuppoſing him to have no other way of determining but by the con⯑formity of their manners to that rule by which he had undertaken to judge them? We indeed ourſelves muſt judge with greater latitude, and can⯑didly take the preſent ſtate of ſociety into the account; which, in ſome few inſtances perhaps, muſt be al⯑lowed to diſpenſe with that literal ſtrictneſs, which more peculiarly be⯑longed to the firſt ages of the Goſpel.

But as this is really a chriſtian [215]country, profeſſing to enjoy the pureſt faith in the pureſt form; it cannot be unreaſonable to go a little farther, and enquire whether chriſtianity, however firmly eſtabliſhed, and gene⯑rally profeſſed in it, is really prac⯑tiſed by that order of faſhionable perſons, who, while they are abſorbed in the delights of the world, and their whole ſouls devoted to the pur⯑ſuit of pleaſure, yet ſtill arrogate to themſelves the honourable name of chriſtians, and occaſionally teſtify their claim to this high character, by a general profeſſion of their belief [216]in, and a decent compliance with, the forms of religion.

This enquiry muſt be made, not by a compariſon with the ſtate of chriſtianity in other countries (a mode always fallacious, whether adopted by nations or individuals, is that of comparing themſelves with thoſe who are ſtill worſe); nor muſt it be made from any notions drawn from cuſtom, decency, or any other human ſtandard; but from a ſcripture view of what real religion is; from any one of thoſe ſtriking and com⯑prehenſive repreſentations of it, [217]which may be found condenſed in ſo many ſingle paſſages of the ſacred writings.

Whoever then looks into the Book of God, and obſerves its prevailing ſpirit, and then looks into that part of the world under conſideration, will not ſurely be thought very cenſorious, if he pronounce that the conformity between them does not ſeem to be very ſtriking; and that the one does not very evidently appear to be dictated by the other. Will he diſcover that the chriſtian religion is ſo much as pretended to be made [218]the rule of life even by that decent order who profeſs not to have diſ⯑carded it as an object of faith? Do even the more regular, who neglect not public obſervances, conſider chriſtianity as the meaſure of their ac⯑tions? Do even what the world calls religious perſons employ their time, their abilities, and their fortune, as talents for which they however con⯑feſs they believe themſelves account⯑able? Or do they in any reſpect live, I will not ſay up to their pro⯑feſſion (for what human being does ſo?), but in any conſiſtency with it, or even with an eye to its predomi⯑nant [219]tendencies? Do perſons in general of this deſcription ſeem to conſider the peculiar doctrines of the Goſpel as any thing more than a form of words, neceſſary indeed to be repeated, and proper to be be⯑lieved? But do they conſider them as neceſſary to be adopted into a governing principle of action?

Is it conſiſtent to declare in the ſolemn aſſemblies that they are "miſerable offenders," and that "there is no health in them," and never in their daily lives to diſcover any ſymptom of that humility which [220]ſhould naturally be implied in ſuch a declaration?

Is it reaſonable, or conſiſtent with good ſenſe, earneſtly to lament hav⯑ing "followed the deſires of their own hearts," and then deliberately to plunge into ſuch a torrent of diſſi⯑pations as clearly indicates that they do not ſtruggle to reſiſt one of them? I dare not ſay this is hypocriſy, but ſurely it is inconſiſtency.

"Be ye not conformed to this world," is a leading principle in the book they acknowledge as their [221]guide. But after unreſiſtingly aſſent⯑ing to this, as a doctrinal truth, at church; how abſurd would they think any one who ſhould expect them to adopt it into their practice! Perhaps the whole law of God does not exhibit a ſingle precept more expreſsly, more ſteadily, and more uniformly rejected. If it mean any thing, it can hardly be conſiſtent with that mode of life emphatically diſ⯑tinguiſhed by the appellation of faſhionable.

Now would it be much more ab⯑ſurd (for any other reaſon but becauſe [222]it is not the cuſtom) if our legiſ⯑lators were to meet one day in every week, gravely to read over all the obſolete ſtatutes, and reſcinded acts of parliament; than it is for the order of perſons of the above de⯑ſcription to aſſemble every Sunday, to profeſs their belief in, and ſub⯑miſſion to, a ſyſtem of principles, which they do not ſo much as intend ſhall be binding on their practice?

But to continue our enquiry.— There is not a more common or more intelligible definition of human duty, than that of "Fear God, and [223]keep his commandments." Now, as to the firſt of theſe inſeparable pre⯑cepts, can we, with the utmoſt ſtretch of charity, be very forward to con⯑clude that God is really "very greatly feared," in ſecret, by thoſe who give too manifeſt indications that they live "without him in the world." And as to the latter pre⯑cept, which naturally grows out of the other—without noticing any of the flagrant breaches of the moral law, let us only confine ourſelves to the allowed, general, and notorious violation of the fourth command⯑ment, and then enquire what apology [224]can be offered for this, by believers at leaſt, who ſcruple not to allow the authority of that book, which de⯑clares, among many other alarming denunciations, that the wilful and habitual offender in any one point is guilty of the breach of the whole law.

Shall we have reaſon to change our opinion, if we take another divine repreſentation of the ſum and ſub⯑ſtance of religion, and apply it as a touchſtone in the preſent trial— "Thou ſhalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, &c. and [225]thy neighbour as thyſelf?" Now, judging by inference, do we ſee many public proofs of that heavenly-mind⯑edneſs which would be the inevitable effect of ſuch a fervent and animated dedication of all the powers, faculties, and affections of the ſoul to him who gave it? And, as to the great rule of ſocial duty expreſſed in the ſecond clauſe, do we obſerve very much of that conſiderate kindneſs, that pure diſintereſtedneſs, that conſcien⯑tious attention to the comfort of others, eſpecially of dependants and inferiors, which might be expected from thoſe who enjoy the privilege [226]of ſo unerring a ſtandard of con⯑duct? a ſtandard which, if imparti⯑ally conſulted, muſt make our kind⯑neſs to others bear an exact propor⯑tion to our ſelf-love: a rule in which chriſtian principle, operating on hu⯑man ſenſibility, could not fail to de⯑cide aright in every ſuppoſable caſe. For no man can doubt how he ought to act towards another, while the correſponding ſuggeſtions of con⯑ſcience and feeling concur in letting him know how he would wiſh, in a change of circumſtances, that others ſhould act towards him.

[227]Or ſuppoſe we take a more de⯑tailed ſurvey, by a third rule, which indeed is not ſo much the principle as the effect of piety—"True reli⯑gion, and undefiled before God and the Father, is this: to viſit the father⯑leſs and widows in their affliction, and to keep himſelf unſpotted from the world." Now if chriſtianity inſiſts that obedience to the latter injunc⯑tion be the true evidence of the ſincerity of thoſe who fulfil the former, is the beneficence of the faſhionable world very ſtrikingly illuſtrated by this ſpotleſs purity, this exemption from the pollutions of the world, [228]which is declared to be its in⯑fallible ſymptom?

But if I were to venture to take my eſtimate with a view more immedi⯑ately evangelical; if I preſumed to look for that genuine chriſtianity which conſiſts in "repentance to⯑wards God, and faith in our Lord Jeſus Chriſt;" to inſiſt that, whatever natural religion and faſhionable reli⯑gion may teach, it is the peculiarity of the chriſtian religion to humble the ſin⯑ner, and exalt the Saviour; to inſiſt that not only the groſsly flagitious, but that all, have ſinned; that all are by nature in a ſtate of condemna⯑tion; [229]that all ſtand in need of mercy, of which there is no hope but on the Goſpel terms; that eternal life is promiſed to thoſe only who accept it on the offered conditions of "faith, repentance, and renewed obedience;" —if I were to inſiſt on ſuch evidences of our chriſtianity as theſe; if I were to expreſs theſe doctrines in plain ſcriptural terms, without lowering, qualifying, diſguiſing, or doing them away; if I were to inſiſt on this belief, and its implied and corre⯑ſponding practices; I am aware that, with whatever condeſcending patience this little tract might have been ſo [230]far peruſed, many a faſhionable reader would here throw it aſide, as having now detected the palpable enthuſiaſt, the abettor of "ſtrange doctrines," long ago conſigned over by the liberal and the polite to bigots and fanatics. And yet, if the Bible be true, this is a ſimple and faithful deſcription of chriſtianity.

After having, however, juſt ven⯑tured to hint that ſuch are indeed the humbling doctrines of the Goſpel, to which alone eternal life is promiſed; I ſhall, in deep humility, forbear enlarging on this part of the ſubject, [231]which has been exhauſted by the labours of wiſe and pious men in all ages. Unhappily, however, the moſt awakening of theſe writers are not the favourite gueſts in the cloſets of the more faſhionable chriſtians; who, when they happen to be more ſe⯑riouſly diſpoſed than ordinary, are fond of finding out ſome middle kind of reading, which recommends ſome half-way ſtate, ſomething be⯑tween paganiſm and chriſtianity, ſuſpending the mind, like the poſition of Mahomet's tomb, between earth and heaven: a kind of reading which, while it quiets the conſcience [232]by being on the ſide of morals, nei⯑ther awakens their fears, nor alarms their ſecurity. By dealing in gene⯑rals, it comes home to the hearts of none: it flatters the paſſions of the reader, by aſcribing high merit to the performance of certain right ac⯑tions, and the forbearance from cer⯑tain wrong ones; among which, that reader muſt be very unlucky indeed who does not find ſome performances and ſome forbearances of his own. It at once enables him to keep heaven in his eye, and the world in his heart. It agreeably repreſents the readers to themſelves as amiable [233]perſons; guilty indeed of a few faults, but never as condemned ſinners under ſentence of death. It com⯑monly abounds with high encomiums on the dignity of human nature; the good effects of virtue on health, fortune, and reputation; the dangers of a blind zeal, the miſchiefs of en⯑thuſiaſm, and the folly of being "righteous over much:" with various other kindred ſentiments, which, if they do not fall in of them⯑ſelves with the corruptions of our nature, may, by a little warping, be eaſily accommodated to them.

[234]Theſe are the too ſucceſsful prac⯑tices of lukewarm and temporizing divines, who have become popular by blunting the edge, of that heavenly tempered weapon, whoſe ſalutary keenneſs, but for their "deccitful handling," would oftener "pierce to the dividing aſunder of ſoul and ſpirit."

But thoſe ſeverer preachers of righteouſneſs, who diſguſt by ap⯑plying too cloſely to the con⯑ſcience; who probe the inmoſt heart, and lay open all its latent peccancies; who treat of principles [235]as the only certain ſource of man⯑ners; who lay the axe to the root, oftener than the pruning knife to the branch; who inſiſt much and often on the great leading truths, that man is a fallen creature, who muſt be reſtored, if he be reſtored at all, by means very little flattering to human pride—ſuch as theſe will ſeldom find acceſs to the houſes and hearts of the more modiſh chriſtians; un⯑leſs they happen to owe their ad⯑miſſion to ſome ſubordinate quality of ſtyle; unleſs they can captivate, with the ſeducing graces of language, thoſe well-bred readers, who are [236]childiſhly amuſing themſelves with the garniſh, when they are periſhing for want of food; who are ſearching for poliſhed periods, when they ſhould be in queſt of alarming truths; who are looking for elegance of compo⯑ſition, when they ſhould be anxious for eternal life.

Whatever comparative praiſe may be due to the former claſs of writers, when viewed with others of a leſs decent order, yet I am not ſure whether ſo many books of frigid morality, exhibiting ſuch inferior motives of action, and ſuch mode⯑rate [237]repreſentations of duty, have not done religion much more harm than good; whether they do not lead many a reader to enquire what is the loweſt degree in the ſcale of virtue with which he may content himſelf, ſo as barely to eſcape eternal puniſh⯑ment; how much indulgence he may allow himſelf, without abſolutely forfeiting his chance of ſafety; what is the uttermoſt verge to which he may venture of this world's enjoy⯑ment, and yet juſt keep within a poſſibility of hope for the next: adjuſting the ſcales of indulgence and ſecurity with ſuch a ſcrupulous [238]equilibrium, as not to loſe much pleaſure, yet not incur much penalty.

This is hardly an exaggerated repreſentation: and to theſe low views of duty is partly owing ſo much of that bare-weight virtue with which even chriſtians are ſo apt to content themſelves: fighting for every inch of ground which may poſſibly be taken within the pales of permiſſion; and ſtretching thoſe pales to the utmoſt edge of that limitation about which the World and the Bible con⯑tend.

[239]But while the nominal chriſtian is perſuading himſelf that there can be no harm in going a little farther, the real chriſtian is always afraid of going too far. While the one is debating for a little more diſputed ground, the other is ſo fearful of ſtraying into the regions of unal⯑lowed indulgence, that he keeps at a prudent diſtance from the extremity of his permitted limits, and is as anxious in reſtricting as the other is in extending them. One thing is clear, and it may be no bad indica⯑tion by which to diſcover the ſtate of a man's heart to himſelf: while he is [240]contending for this allowance, and ſtipulating for the other indulgence, it will ſhew him that, whatever change there may be in his life, there is none in his heart; the temper remains as it did; and it is by the inward frame rather than the outward act that he can beſt judge of his own ſtate, whatever may be the rule by which he undertakes to judge of that of another.

It is leſs wonderful that there are not more chriſtians, than that chriſ⯑tians, as they are called, are not better men: for, it chriſtianity be not true, [241]the motives to virtue are not high enough to quicken ordinary men to very extraordinary exertions. We ſee them do and ſuffer every day, for popularity, for cuſtom, for faſhion, for the point of honour, not only more than good men do and ſuffer for religion, but a great deal more than religion requires them to do for her reaſonable ſervice demands no ſacrifices but what are ſanctioned by good ſenſe, ſound policy, right reaſor, and uncorrupt judgment.

Many of theſe faſhionable profeſ⯑ſors even go ſo far as to bring their [242]right faith as an apology for their wrong practice. They have a com modious way of intrenching ther ſelves within the ſhelter of ſo general poſition of unqueſtionable truth. Even the great chriſtian hope becomes a ſnare to them. They apologize for a life of offence, by taking refuge in the ſupreme good⯑nets they are abuſing. That "God is all merciful," is the common re⯑ply to thoſe who hint to them their danger. This is a falſe and fatal application of a divine and comfort⯑able truth. Nothing can be more certain than the propoſition, nor [243]more deluſive than the inference: for their deduction implies, not that he is merciful to ſin repented of, but to ſin continued in. But it is a moſt fallacious hope to expect that God will violate his own covenant, or that he is indeed "all mercy," to the utter excluſion of his other attributes of perfect holineſs, purity, and juſ⯑tice.

It is a dangerous folly to reſt on theſe vague and general notions of uncovenanted mercy; and nothing can be more deluſive than this in⯑definite truſt in being forgiven in [244]our own way, after God has clearly revealed to us that he will only for⯑give us in his way.

But the truth is, no one does truly truſt in God, who does not endeavour to obey him. For to break his laws, and yet to depend on his favour; to live in oppoſition to his will, and yet in expectation of his mercy; to vio⯑late his commands and yet look for his acceptance, would not, in any other inſtance, be thought a reaſon⯑able ground of conduct; and yet it is by no means as uncommon as it is inconſiſtent.

[245]But the life of a diſſipated chriſtian ſeems to be a perpetual ſtruggle to reconcile impoſſibilities; it is an en⯑deavour to unite what God has for ever ſeparated, peace and ſin; un⯑chriſtian practices with chriſtian ob⯑ſervances; a quiet conſcience and a diſorderly life; a heart full of this world and an unfounded dependance on the happineſs of the next.

CHAP. VII.

AS in the preceding chapter notice was taken of that de⯑ſcription of perſons who profeſs to receive chriſtianity with great reve⯑rence as a matter of faith, who yet do not pretend to adopt it as a rule of [247]conduct; I ſhall conclude theſe ſlight remarks with ſome ſhort ani⯑madverſions on another ſet of men, and that not a ſmall one, among the decent and the faſhionable, who pro⯑feſs to think it exhibits an admirable ſyſtem of morals, while they deny its divine authority; though that alone can make the neceſſity of obey⯑ing its precepts binding on the con⯑ſciences of men.

This is a very diſcreet ſcheme: for ſuch perſons at once ſave them⯑ſelves from the diſcredit of having their underſtanding impoſed upon [248]by a ſuppoſed blind ſubmiſſion to evidences and authorities; and yet, prudently enough, ſecure to them⯑ſelves, in no ſmall degree, the repu⯑tation of good men. By ſteering this middle kind of courſe, they con⯑trive to be reckoned liberal by the philoſophers, and decent by the be⯑lievers.

But we are not commonly to ex⯑pect to ſee the pure morality of the Goſpel very carefully transfuſed into the lives of ſuch objectors. And indeed it would be unjuſt to imagine that the precepts ſhould be moſt [249]ſcrupulouſly obſerved by thoſe who reject the authority. The influence of divine truth muſt neceſſarily beſt prepare the heart for an unreſerved obedience to its laws. If we do not depend on that pardon and accept⯑ance which chriſtianity offers, we ſhall want the beſt motive to the actions and performances which it enjoins. A lively belief muſt there⯑fore precede a very hearty and com⯑plete obedience. We are told, on the very beſt authority, that truth ſanc⯑tifies the heart: and the ſame au⯑thority adds, that the "word of God is truth." That command therefore, [250]for inſtance, to ſet "our affections on things above," will operate but faintly, till that ſpirit from which the command proceeds touches the heart, and convinces it that no human good is worthy of the entire affection of an immortal creature. An un⯑reſerved faith in the promiſer muſt precede our worthy performance of any duty to which the promiſe is annexed.

But as to a ſet of duties, enforced by no other motive than a bare acqui⯑eſcence in their beauty, and a cold conviction of their propriety; but [251]impelled by no obedience to his au⯑thority who impoſes them; though we know not how well they might be performed by pure and impeccable beings, yet we know how they com⯑monly are performed by frail and diſorderly creatures, fallen from their innocence, and corrupt in their very natures.

Beſides, nothing but a conviction of the truth of chriſtianity can recon⯑cile thinking beings to the extraordi⯑nary appearances of things in the Creator's moral government of the world. The works of God are an [252]enigma, of which his word alone is the ſolution. The dark veil which is thrown over the divine diſpenſa⯑tions in this lower world, muſt natu⯑rally ſhock thoſe who conſider only the ſingle ſcene which is acting on the preſent ſtage; but is reconcile⯑able to him who, having learnt from revelation the nature of the laws by which the great Author acts, truſts confidently that the cataſtrophe will ſet all to rights. The confuſion which ſin and the paſſions have introduced; the triumph of wickedneſs; the ſeemingly arbitrary diſproportion of human conditions, accountable on [253]no ſcheme but that which the Goſpel has opened to us—have all a natural tendency to withdraw from the love of God the hearts of thoſe who erect themſelves into critics on the divine conduct, and yet will not ſtudy the plan, and get acquainted with the rules, ſo far as it has pleaſed the Supreme Diſpoſer to re⯑veal them.

Till therefore the word of God is uſed as "a lamp to their paths," men can neither truly diſcern the crookedneſs of their own ways, nor the perfection of that light by which [254]they are directed to walk. And this light can only be ſeen by its own pro⯑per brightneſs; it has no other me⯑dium. Till therefore "the ſecret of the Lord" is with men, they will not truly "fear him;" till he has "en⯑larged their hearts" with the know⯑ledge and belief of his word, they will not very vigorouſly "run the way of his commandments." Till they have acquired that "faith without which it is impoſſible to pleaſe God," they will not attain that holineſs with⯑out which no man can ſee him.

And indeed if God has thought [255]fit to make the goſpel an inſtrument of ſalvation, we muſt own the neceſ⯑ſity of receiving it as a divine inſti⯑tution, before it is likely to operate very effectually on the conduct. The great Creator, if we may judge by analogy from natural things, is ſo wiſe an oeconomiſt, that he always adapts, with the moſt accurate pre⯑ciſion, the inſtrument to the work; and never laviſhes more means than are neceſſary to accompliſh the pro⯑poſed end. If therefore chriſtianity had been intended for nothing more than a mere ſyſtem of ethics, ſuch a ſyſtem ſurely might have been pro⯑duced [256]at an infinitely leſs expence. The long chain of prophecy, the labours of apoſtles, the blood of ſaints, to ſay nothing of the great and coſtly ſacrifice which the goſpel records, might ſurely have been ſpared. Leſſons of mere human virtue might have been delivered by ſome ſuitable inſtrument of human wiſdom, ſtrengthened by the viſible authority of human power. A bare ſyſtem of morals might have been communicated to mankind with a more reaſonable proſpect of advan⯑tage, by means not ſo repugnant to human pride. A mere ſcheme of [257]conduct might have been delivered, with far greater probability of ſucceſs, by Anto ninus the emperor, or Plato the philoſopher, than by Paul the tent-maker, or Peter the fiſherman.

Chriſtianity, then, muſt be em⯑braced entirely, if it be received at all. It muſt be taken, without mu⯑tilation, as a perfect ſcheme, in the way in which God has been pleaſed to reveal it. It muſt be accepted, not as exhibiting beautiful parts, but as preſenting one conſummate whole, of which the perfection ariſes from coherence and dependence, [258]from relation and conſiſtency. Its power will be weakened, and its energy deſtroyed, if every caviller pulls out a pin, or obſtructs a ſpring, with the preſumptuous view of new⯑modelling the divine work, and making it go to his own mind. There is no breaking this ſyſtem into portions of which we are at liberty to chooſe one, and reject another. There is no ſeparating the evidences from the doctrines, the doctrines from the precepts, belief from obedience, morality from piety, the love of our neighbour from the love of God. If we pro⯑feſs [259]chriſtianity at all, if we allow the Divine Author to be indeed unto us "wiſdom and righteouſneſs," he muſt be alſo "ſanctification and re⯑demption."

Chriſtianity, then, is aſſuredly ſome⯑thing more than a mere ſet of rules; and piety, though it never pretended to be the ſubſtitute for a good life, is indiſpenſably neceſſary to its ac⯑ceptance with God. The Goſpel never offers to make religion ſuper⯑ſede morality, but every where clearly proves that morality is not the whole of religion. Piety is not [260]only neceſſary as a means, but is it⯑ſelf a moſt important end. It is not only the beſt principle of moral conduct, but is an indiſpenſable and abſolute duty in itſelf. It is not only the higheſt motive to the prac⯑tice of virtue, but is a prior obliga⯑tion; and abſolutely neceſſary, even when detached from its immediate influence on practical goodneſs. Religion will ſurvive all the virtues of which it is the ſource; for we ſhall be living in the nobleſt exer⯑ciſes of piety, when we ſhall have no objects on which to exerciſe many human virtues. When there [261]will be no diſtreſs to be relieved, no injuries to be forgiven, no evil habits to be ſubdued; there will be a Creator to be bleſſed and adored, a Redeemer to be loved and praiſed.