A SERMON.

THESE, my brethren, are the words of the afflicted David, which he uttered in the deepeſt anguiſh, to his be⯑loved Jonathan. Saul's anger, which he had unwarily though undeſervedly in⯑curred, had to the laſt degree terrified and alarmed him; he knew the power of his adverſary, and dreaded, not with⯑out reaſon, the warmth of his reſentment. [10] The danger appear'd ſo great, and the conſequence ſo unavoidable, that he could not entertain the leaſt hope of ſafety, but gave himſelf up to deſpair: There is but a ſtep, ſaid he, between me and death. His ſituation indeed, all things conſidered, ſeemed extremely deſperate; ruin and de⯑ſtruction were immediately before him, and there was ſcarce a probability of eſ⯑caping it: but what is there which active benevolence and diſintereſted friendſhip will not at tempt, what is there which they cannot perform? Jonathan, whoſe heart glowed with the tendereſt affection for his perſecuted and afflicted friend, ſoon deviſed the means of unexpected ſafety, and ſtepped in between him and death; turned aſide the uplifted dart, and reſtor⯑ed him to peace, honour, and felicity. The manner in which he acted on this occaſion, and the ingenious device which he put in practice to redeem his friend, are deſcribed at large in the chapter from whence my text is taken, where the whole intereſting tale is told in that pathetic lan⯑guage, and with that artleſs ſimplicity, [11] which ſo eminently diſtinguiſh the ſacred writings.

Leaving therefore the recollection and peruſal, with all thoſe reflections which will naturally occur to you from the con⯑ſideration of it, to your own leiſure and opportunity, I ſhall proceed immediately to that obvious application of it, which naturally preſents itſelf on the preſent oc⯑caſion, and to the original of that excel⯑lent and benevolent inſtitution which we are here met to commemorate.

The words before us ſeem to point out and deſcribe the general ſtate of man, and the precarious condition of our frail and tranſitory being, ſo aptly compared in ſcrip⯑ture to the graſs of the field, which ſpring⯑eth up in the morning, and in the evening is cut down, dried up and withered: life is in its nature ſo uncertain, and even at its ut⯑moſt extent ſo ſhort and fleeting, that every one of us might with propriety cry out with David—there is but a ſtep between me and death.

[12] But the exclamation of Jonathan's diſ⯑treſſed friend ſeems peculiarly adapted to the ſituation of thoſe whoſe lives are endan⯑gered on a ſudden by ſome unforeſeen ac⯑cident or calamity, which from a ſtate of perfect ſafety and happineſs reduces them to that of extreme peril, and from which nothing but a change as unhoped for as unexpected can poſſibly deliver them: and this, my brethren, is immediately appli⯑cable to the objects which the Charity I am here endeavouring to recommend is intended to relieve.

Great as the improvements are which in this and other nations have of late years been made in every branch of me⯑dical knowledge, yet is the inveſtigation of our own complicated frame ſtill at⯑tended with inſuperable difficulties: like the reſt of the works of God, it mocketh the art of man; we are, as the Pſalmiſt long ſince obſerved, ſo fearfully and won⯑derfully made, that we know not with any degree of preciſion where our own ex⯑iſtence either begins or ends, and the re⯑ſemblance [13] of death is too often miſtaken for death itſelf: the marks are ſo equi⯑vocal as to deceive the niceſt judgment, and to miſlead the moſt acute ſagacity; hence it hath ariſen, as the recommenders of this charity have frequently remarked, that before this excellent inſtitution took place amongſt us, many, too many, alas! have paid the debt of nature long before it became due unto her, many are loſt in the valley of the ſhadow of death who might even now have trodden in the chearful paths of life and being.

Simple as the proceſs is which we have adopted, plain and obvious as the means are which we have invariably purſued, it cannot indeed but raiſe our aſtoniſhment and wonder that they were not long ſince embraced, and univerſally put into prac⯑tice; but there is perhaps a time appoint⯑ed by providence for all things that happen in this world, which we can neither anti⯑cipate nor retard. In the days of bigotry and ſuperſtition an attempt of this nature would have been ſtiled raſh and preſump⯑tuous; [14] in the days of ignorance and in⯑dolence it would have been derided as uſeleſs and impracticable: even in our own, even in this enlightened aera, it hath been a work of no little toil and labour to confirm and eſtabliſh it. This child of benevolence, fair and well proportioned as it now appears before you, was frowned on at its birth; it had to combat with the fears of the diffident, the oppoſition of the ſelfiſh, the ſneer of the malevolent, and the reproof of the ſcornful. But, thanks be to the great inſpirer of every good word and work! our little bark hath at length ſtemmed the torrent of prejudice, broke thro' the waves of envy and malice, and is landed ſafely in the harbour of public approbation. We are ſurpriſed at what hath been already done, when we conſider how ſhort a ſpace hath been employed in the peformance of it; we look back with aſtoniſhment, and forwards with delight and ſatisfaction.

Not five years, my brethren, have elapſed ſince firſt we went forth to ſow [15] our ſeed, and ſee what noble ſheaves we have to boaſt, and what a plenteous har⯑veſt. In this ſhort ſpace, I am authoriſed to inform this aſſembly, four hundred and ſixty-ſeven caſes have been brought before us—Now, mark, I beſeech you, with at⯑tention what follows—of theſe no leſs than two hundred and ſeventy have been mi⯑raculouſly ſucceſsful. More than one half of them. Have we not then, my breth⯑ren, fought nobly with the king of ter⯑rors? we have diminiſhed his conqueſts, and abridged his triumphs: we have at leaſt divided the ſpoils, and more than poiſed in equal balance the ſcale of vic⯑tory.

True Charity, like true beauty, to be admired and embraced needs only to be ſeen and known. It wants no patronage to recommend, no art to emblazon, no eloquence to adorn it. And ſuch is the happy lot of the inſtitution now before you, which hath already met with more ſucceſs than our moſt ſanguinary hopes could ever have formed an idea of.

[16] The bleſſing which we have been ſo fortunate as to confer, is of ſuch a na⯑ture that it is not confined to the individual who receives it; many a dependant friend, many a thankful relation, many a happy family croud round, and pour forth their grateful acknowledgments for it.

But in caſes of this nature argument muſt ever give way to fact: the tinſel of oratory will avail but little, unleſs ſup⯑ported by the unerring teſtimony of ex⯑perience. To this therefore I would wiſh to appeal. I would wiſh to draw your attention towards ſome of thoſe intereſting ſcenes which this inſtitution hath at various times exhibited and called forth. Permit me to carry you with me but in imagina⯑tion to one of the moſt tender and affect⯑ing, and which, if you had heen eye⯑witneſs of, would never have been for⯑gotten by you. O, for the eloquence of a Demoſthenes to deſcribe, or the pencil ^* of a Raphael to delineate it!

[17] Suppoſe yourſelves then, my brethren, but for a few moments, in your evening walk of rural retirement, on the borders of a delightful ſtream, imagine your contem⯑plations interrupted by a ſtrange and un⯑common appearance. At a little diſtance from you behold a buſy buſtling croud of induſtrious labourers encircling the body of their hapleſs companion, whom they have taken, at the hazard of their own lives, out of the neighbouring river, and dragged to the ſhore without life or motion. Scarce an hour has paſſed ſince the object of their grief and attention had left his little circle of domeſtic happineſs in all the glow of youth, health, and vigour. And now behold his body ſwolln, his eyes cloſed and ſunk, his face pale and livid, his limbs torpid and motionleſs: without the leaſt ſigns of life they convey him in hopeleſs deſpondency to his own home. The whole afflicted family, ſum⯑moned [18] by the dreadful news are gathered together. Fear, deſpondency, horror, and aſtoniſhment are ſpread over every coun⯑tenance. On one ſide behold the aged mother lamenting her loſt child, the prop and ſupport of her declining years; on the other ſtands mute and inſenſible the af⯑flicted wife, afraid to look up to the hor⯑rid ſpectacle before her; whilſt the in⯑nocent little ones, happy only in not knowing how much they have loſt, look with amazement at the motionleſs hands which ſo lately were ſtretched out to em⯑brace them, and wonder at the ſilence of him who always ſo kindly greeted them on his return. Thoſe who would moſt gladly take upon them the taſk of reſtor⯑ing him are moſt unable to perform it; their faculties are all abſorbed in grief, their limbs petrified with deſpair, and all the precious moments which ſhould have been employed in the means of his reco⯑very, are loſt in fruitleſs tears and uſeleſs lamentation. They hang over him in ſilent anguiſh, take their laſt farewell in [19] the agonies of deſpair, and conſign him to the grave.

And now, my brethren, obſerve the change. It chances that one of the ſons of humanity, (which is but another name for this inſtitution) is paſſing by; as ſoon as he hears of the event, he flies, like the good Samaritan, to the chambers of ſor⯑row, he ſtops the retreating multitude, the idle ſons of curioſity who had aſſem⯑bled but to gaze at and deſert him, calls on the moſt vigorous and active amongſt them, to aſſiſt him, applies with zeal and alacrity thoſe plain and ſimple means which reaſon dictates, as the moſt proper to reanimate, if poſſible, the lifeleſs maſs, and purſues them with ceaſeleſs toil and unwearied aſſiduity. Death, yet unwil⯑ling to quit his hold, or relinquiſh his de⯑voted prey, ſtruggles long and power⯑fully to detain it: ſeems to ſmile, as it were, at the ineffectual labour; till at length ſubdued by fortitude and perſever⯑ance he gives up the conteſt. Nature, no longer able to reſiſt ſuch repeated ſolicita⯑tations, [20] reſumes her ſuſpended powers, and exerts her enlivening influence. A ray of hope breaks in upon the gloom, and lights up every countenance. Behold, at laſt, again he moves, he breathes, he lives. What follows is not within the power of language to deſcribe; imagination alone can ſuggeſt to you the delightful ſcene of wonder and aſtoniſhment, of mutual joy, tranſport and felicity.

This, my brethren, is not merely the ideal viſionary work of creative fancy, but a real and true, however imperfect repreſentation of what hath not once but often happened ſince the inſtitution of this benevolent ſociety. Had you, who are here aſſembled, all been preſent at it, I hope and believe there is not one of you but on his return from it would moſt chearfully contribute towards the ſupport of ſuch a charity. Why then ſhould I not alſo hope that even this faint idea and reſemblance of ſuch a ſcene will ſtrike ſo forcibly on your minds as to expand them into chearful beneficence?

[21] But this, my brethren, great as it may ſeem, is not all which we have to urge in favour of this noble charity, we can boaſt of ſtill greater triumphs, and glory in a yet nobler victory, a triumph over deſpair, and a victory over ſin and ſatan.

If there be a crime that ſeemeth to pre⯑clude all hopes of the divine mercy, it is certainly that of ſelf murther; as it ad⯑mits not, like all others, either of repara⯑tion or repentance; it is indeed the higheſt and moſt unpardonable offence againſt our Almighty Creator, being at the ſame time an impious diſtruſt of his goodneſs, and a daring defiance of his power. And yet this horrid practice is become of late years a darling and a faſhionable vice amongſt us; this peſtilence that uſed to walk in darkneſs, now ſtalketh in the noon day.

Whether it be owing to that penury and diſtreſs which are the inevitable con⯑ſequence of univerſal diſſipation and ex⯑travagance, to the want of true, or the prevalence of falſe religion amongſt us, [22] to the daring confidence of infidelity, or the equally fatal deſponding gloom of methodiſm,^* we cannot poſſibly deter⯑mine, but certain it is, that not a year, not a month, ſcarce a day paſſeth but we have ſome melancholy inſtances and ex⯑amples of it: how happy then, my breth⯑ren, muſt we eſteem ourſelves, in being able to trace the ſteps of our bleſſed re⯑deemer, and to have contributed towards the ſaving even a few of our fellow-crea⯑tures from everlaſting miſery! Without our kind and ſeaſonable aſſiſtance, they would have ruſh'd with all their ſins into the preſence of their judge, and the waters would have gone even over their ſouls. It may be ſaid, indeed, (and ſomething is [23] always ſaid by the malevolent and injudi⯑cious to leſſen the merit of good works) that thoſe who are determined to ruſh on death, if they are deprived of one method, will only have reſource to another; and that we ſhall not therefore by this inſtitu⯑tion, much leſſen the number of ſelf-de⯑ſtroyers. But ſurely, my brethren, if we can turn aſide but one of the arrows of death, if we can ſhut up one door to eter⯑nal miſery and perdition, the trial is wor⯑thy of all our pains and all our aſſiduity. Happy, thrice happy are we to add on this occaſion, that not one of thoſe who have been prevented by us from executing their horrid purpoſe, have from the hour of their deliverance, ever ſought for the opportunity of repeating it.

But that the facts here alleged may want no proof to eſtabliſh or confirm, behold the ſeal of truth here affixed unto them. Behold a ^* ſight that will plead [24] more powerfully than all which human eloquence could ever produce. Behold theſe living teſtimonies of human bene⯑volence, theſe ſpeaking monuments of the divine Mercy. Is it in the power of any ſenſual enjoyment to impart a pleaſure equal to that which this glorious ſpectacle muſt beſtow upon you?

What will prejudice and prepoſſeſſion ſay to witneſſes like theſe? Send us one from the grave, ſaid Dives to the Patri⯑arch, and we will believe. Behold, ye incredulous, not one but many: what Abraham then refuſed is now granted unto you. Behold them, my brethren, aſſembled in the houſe of God, to return their unfeigned thanks for his unmerited goodneſs towards them. Shall I not ſeize the opportunity to ſpeak to and exhort them?

To you, then, ye favourites of Provi⯑dence, ye choſen objects of its gracious [25] attention, permit me to addreſs myſelf; permit me to hope that you meet us here with hearts full of gratitude; that ye will not, that ye never can be unmindful of your benefactors; that ye will endeavour to return the obligations conferred on you, by a diligent and punctual diſcharge of every duty becoming Men and Chriſtians. You are peculiarly indebted to Benevo⯑lence; you owe her a richer ſacrifice than the reſt of mankind, and there is nothing ſo dear and precious, which you ſhould not offer up unto her: ſhew therefore, your regard to thoſe who have preſerved you by acts of kindneſs and friendſhip; not to them, they neither want nor deſire it, but to your fellow-creatures in diſtreſs; to all thoſe who may fall into the like or any other calamity; be ever ready to fly with zeal and alacrity to reſcue them from every danger, and relieve them under every affliction.

But above all, my friends, remember that gracious Providence which ſmiled on our endeavours, and bleſſed them with [26] ſucceſs. Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name be all honour and glory. We are but weak and powerleſs inſtruments in the hands and under the guidance of the Almighty Creator, the great fountain of life and being, even the God of your ſalvation. Except the Lord build the houſe, their labour is but vain that build it. Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. To him, therefore, pour forth all your gratitude; to him give the tribute of praiſe and adoration. You, my breth⯑ren, have been graciouſly diſtinguiſhed by him who gave you a ſecond life, and raiſed you to a double being; there is no way for you to repay the bleſſing, but by en⯑deavouring, if poſſible, to deſerve it. It becometh all men, but above all men it becometh thoſe who have been thus mira⯑culouſly preſerved to take heed unto their ways, to be cautious and circumſpect in every word and in every action. If ye are not the moſt diligent and faithful, ye muſt be the baſeſt and moſt unprofitable of ſervants; if ye are not the moſt ſober, [27] chaſte, the moſt thankful, pious and reli⯑gious, ye are doubtleſs the moſt ungrate⯑ful and moſt abandoned of men. This, my brethren, we moſt ſeriouſly and ear⯑neſtly entreat, this we have an indiſputable right to demand of you. Very ungrateful indeed would it be to your benefactors, to ſpend that life which they have been ſo fortunate as to reſtore in the purſuit of vice and folly, in ſcenes of diſſipation, riot, and debauchery. On you it depends, whether we are to conſider the continu⯑ance of your being as a bleſſing or a curſe unto you, whether we are to rejoice in our ſucceſs, or with tears of ſhame and ſorrow to repent of it. If your days are but prolonged into guilt, and extended into ſin and corruption, if you are given back to life only to offend the great Author of it, it were better that the waves had long ſince overwhelmed you; it were better, as our Saviour ſaith, that a mill-ſtone were hanged about your necks, and that ye were caſt into the ſea.

[28] Need I add an exhortation to thoſe whom the phrenzy of deſpair once urged to the commiſſion of a crime which they have ſince that time, I am ſatisfyed, ſo often, ſo heartily, and ſincerely repented of? Thoſe who have learned the value of that treaſure which they deſpiſed, and know the extent of that bleſſing which hath been reſtored to them. Need I call on them to reflect with horror on the dreadful precipice which they have eſ⯑caped from, need I beſeech them to conſider, how much is owing to the friend⯑ly hand that ſtepped between them and death, that was kindly ſtretched out to ſave them from everlaſting perdition?

We ſaw you, my unhappy brethren, deſerting from that ſervice to which you had been appointed by the great Captain of your ſalvation. We ſtopped, we ar⯑reſted you in your flight, and brought you back to the poſt of duty, which ye had ingloriouſly forſaken: do ye not think it incumbent on you, if you hope for par⯑don or reward from your Almighty leader, [29] to maintain it for the future with courage and reſolution, to preſerve it with honour, to dignify it with more than ordinary zeal, fortitude, and perſeverance? alas! how many are there, who at this moment, if they had worlds to beſtow, would gladly give them for that ſeaſonable relief, that happier fate which you were ſo fortunate as to experience! how ^* gladly would they now return, if poſſible, to that pe⯑nury and ſorrow, to all thoſe evils which they fled from, to that door of life which is now ſhut againſt them! Think ſeri⯑ouſly, my brethren, of this your wonder⯑ful deliverance; be thankful to the Lord of life for this his gracious preſervation of you, and ſpend the remainder of your days as becometh thoſe who have been thus redeemed of the Lord. This is all which we requeſt of you in return for our endeavours to ſerve and to reſtore you. We will not doubt your chearful compli⯑ance [30] with it; your public and voluntary appearance on this occaſion pleads ſtrongly with us in your favour, and from your preſent exemplary behaviour, we draw a propitious omen of your future conduct.

And now, my brethren, to you I re⯑vert, to you we apply for the further ſup⯑port and encouragement of this noble work. The fabric is raiſed, but on you we muſt rely for the ſupport, and preſer⯑vation of it. We have already received, with the utmoſt gratitude we acknowledge, much kind aſſiſtance from the generous and humane. But, favoured as we have been by the protection of our bleſſed Lord and Maſter, we wiſh ſtill more cloſely to imitate his conduct, and to follow his di⯑vine Example, to go about doing good. There are ſeveral parts of this wide com⯑mercial kingdom, from their ſituation pe⯑culiarly liable to accidents of this kind, which are at a great diſtance from the metropolis, and where conſequently the ignorance and indolence joined to the po⯑verty and diſtreſs of the inhabitants, ſtand [31] in more immediate want of all poſſible in⯑citements to duty and to humanity. To theſe we would wiſh to extend our influ⯑ence; we would gladly expand our circle of benevolence. We would have, in ſhort, ſuch is our ambition, and ſuch our hope, we would have the noble Charity we are here pleading for, embrace and flow round this whole capacious iſland, even like the ocean that encompaſſeth it. We would wiſh, if poſſible, to make the inſtitution itſelf ſtill more uſeful, ſo to cheriſh this our little tree of life, as to ſee ^* new branches ſpreading from it. Some ſcyons we have already grafted on it, which have bloſſomed and borne fruit upon them.

[32] One would naturally ſuppoſe that diſ⯑treſſes ſo alarming muſt awaken the moſt lethargic; that a call ſo powerful and ſo irreſiſtible muſt be heard even by the deaf ear of liſtleſneſs and inſenſibility; that the heart-felt ſatisfaction of relieving a fellow creature, of reſtoring him to life and being, would be a ſufficient reward for the exertion of every faculty; but ex⯑perience, which is ever giving the lye to ſanguine expectation, and confuting the ſhallow reaſonings of philoſophy, will teach us another leſſon, will inform us that we muſt too often be bribed to our duty, and perſuaded even with difficulty to embrace the means of our own beſt in⯑tereſt and trueſt happineſs. Men may talk largely of the virtue, the diſintereſt⯑edneſs, and the dignity of human nature, but it will ever be ſound, weak, impotent, and vain. God never deſigned that this tranſitory life ſhould be a ſtate of perfec⯑tion. After all that can be ſaid, and all that can be done, we muſt take mankind therefore as they are, and not as we would wiſh them to be. Happy if we can ſo [33] guide their affections, ſo direct their paſ⯑ſions and infirmities as to render them productive of the general good, to make the wants and weakneſſes of ſome continue to the welfare and the happineſs of others. Add to this, that many of thoſe, whoſe immediate aſſiſtance we frequently ſtand in need of, are often in ſuch circumſtances and ſituations of life as render them un⯑able to beſtow their time and attention without a proper and adequate recom⯑penſe for it, even though they may in their nature and diſpoſition be ever ſo wil⯑ling, tender, and compaſſionate. From ſuch it would be ungrateful as well as impolitic to withhold it. It muſt on the other hand be acknowledged, and it is a melancholy truth which we are obliged to ſubſcribe to, that on theſe preſſing oc⯑caſions, ſome are often called in to the relief of the unhappy object, who from education, from habit, from example, from we know not what inviſible cauſe, are as unfeeling and inſenſible as the element that ſtifled, and the waves that overwhelm⯑ed him. Souls thus narrow and contract⯑ed, [34] there is but one way to expand, hearts thus hard and callous, there is but one method to ſoften and ſubdue; and that we have prudently and ſucceſsfully put in practice, whilſt at the ſame time we lament the neceſſity of it. But the gra⯑cious providence of God hath ſo ordained that out of every evil ſome good ariſeth; one happy effect of that torpor and inſen⯑ſibility which prevaileth amongſt the poor, the vulgar, and the illiterate, is the oppor⯑tunity which it beſtows on the rich and affluent to be liberal and beneficent. It ſecures to you, my brethren, the glorious privilege of contributing, every one of you, as far as your rank and abilities will permit, to one of the moſt humane and benevolent inſtitutions that was ever ſup⯑ported and encouraged in this kingdom. I doubt not, my friends, but you will chearfully adopt, embrace, and rejoice in it.

Let us then, my brethren, if we would ſee many days, be careful to employ thoſe which God hath given us in acts of mercy, [35] charity, and benevolence. Who knows but our Almighty creator, loth as it were to interrupt us in the performance of a work ſo pleaſing unto him, when he be⯑holds us thus uſefully engaged in reſtoring and extending the lives of others, may graciouſly condeſcend to prolong our own, who knows but at the laſt and great day theſe our grateful fellow creatures, whoſe years we have added to on earth, may plead for us in the courts of Heaven, may intercede with the father of mercies for our pardon and forgiveneſs! ſo ſhall we, who have been kind and benevolent to our diſtreſſed brethren here below, be reward⯑ed for it above, ſo ſhall the bleſſing of thoſe that were ready to periſh, come upon us.

Which GOD of his infinite mercy grant, &c.