PURE AND UNDEFILED RELIGION, DELINEATED IN ITS NATURE, INFLUENCE, FRUITS, EVIDENCES, AND CONSUMMATION.

“Religion! thou the soul of happiness;
And groaning Calvary of thee! There shine
The noblest truths; there strongest motives sting;
There sacred violence assaults the soul;
There nothing but compulsion is forborne.”

Night Thoughts.

Its advocates have not been in general either “many, or mighty, or noble, or wise, according to this world;” but, on the contrary, riches, strength, philosophy, and opulence, have distinguished its enemies. Hypocrisy hath assumed its mask, to give religion its deepest reproach, to wound it in the house of its friends, and to arm its adversaries with plausible objections. And yet, amidst all the attempts of men of different complexions, to destroy or deny its existence, to abuse or blaspheme its doctrines, to pervert its nature, to divest it of its essence, or to obscure its lustre; still, religion is a glorious reality, and, like its divine Author, from whom it derives its origin and influence, is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. An attempt, at least, to illustrate, if not to prove this position, is the design of the following pages. The arrangement I propose, is, to consider religion in its origin, its foundation, its nature, its influence, its fruits, and evidences; and recommend it, principally from a consideration of its importance, its consolations, its loveliness, its end, and prospects.

1. As to the origin of religion, it requires little argument to prove it divine. As the very word itself implies something that binds the heart under the strongest ties of love, homage, and obedience to the Supreme Being; what can produce this disposition, and give force to those obligations, but that system of infinite grace which God himself revealed unto man immediately after the fall? which, in subsequent and brighter discoveries, formed the basis, and invigorated the principles of that religion, which distinguished the character of Old Testament saints, and afterwards attained its meridian lustre under the clear economy of the gospel, and in the lives of that noble army of martyrs; the history of whose sanctity, sufferings, and conquests, even unto death, is, in fact, the history of true religion exemplified in its influence, its origin, and its triumphs.

It is an established maxim of revelation, that “all things are of God.” No one doubts, but the credulous atheist, whether the universe be the result of his power. But the Creator of the universe and the great Author of our religion, is one and the same agent. John, i. 1. The former was created and arranged by Omnipotence, and the latter no less required the exertions of that attribute of Deity. The heavens declare his glory, as Creator. In religion, considered as a plan of redeeming mercy, shines “the glory of his grace.” The firmament, with all the orbs that move there, according to the rules of the most systematic contrivance, and regular though amazingly swift rotation, deciphers his wisdom. But it is in the plan of redemption that “the manifold wisdom of God” is more illustriously and advantageously displayed. Religion, considered as a system, applying itself to the state of man, not as in innocence, but under the ruin of the fall, is entirely of God. Man had no hand in forming it, nature no power in executing it. It equally surpassed, in every point of view, the expectations and the desert, the wisdom and power, of man. Considered in its renovating and practical tendency, as a system of morals, its origin is equally of God. This appears from the various representations of the purity of its precepts, as well as from the expressive epithets given to it in the sacred scriptures. It is called “the wisdom that is from above,—the kingdom of heaven,—the new creation,—the being born from above,—the new man, which, after God, is created in righteousness, &c.—the fruits of the spirit,” &c. If union to Christ be the root of true religion, and good works its fruit, both are from God. “Of him are ye in Christ Jesus.” 1 Cor. i. 30. “We are HIS workmanship created in Christ Jesus unto good works.” Ephes. ii. 10. From whence we may deduce this scripture axiom; that religion, doctrinally or practically considered, is, as to its original, the offspring of heaven, and the sole glorious work of Him, “by whom, through whom, and to whom, are ALL THINGS.”2. The foundation of religion. This foundation the scriptures have expressly laid in the life and death of him who was the Mediator of the new covenant, having been made, as a surety, responsible for the performance of its grand and awful stipulations. “Behold,” says Jehovah, “I lay in Zion for a foundation, a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner stone, a sure foundation.” Isa. xxviii. 16. 1 Pet. ii. 6. “Other foundation can no man lay,” says St. Paul, “than that is laid, which is Jesus Christ.” 1 Cor. iii. 11. This foundation, when it is laid in the heart by FAITH, which produces a dependence on the salvation of the Son of God, becomes the only basis of the sinner’s hopes, and forms within him a living and permanent principle of real godliness. Convinced of the evil of sin, and justly apprehensive of suffering its awful penalty, as a transgressor of the law, he looks for relief from his fears, and pardon for his offences, to “the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world.” Whatever is not built on this foundation may satisfy the conscience and comport with the religion of that man, who never saw his guilt in the mirror of God’s law; but every hope not founded on the Redeemer’s righteousness will prove infinitely presumptuous and dangerous, and nothing give peace to the conscience, but what secures the honour of the broken law, and provides an adequate satisfaction for the inflexible justice of Heaven; and nothing can do either, but the atoning blood of Jesus Christ applied by faith in that gospel testimony, which declares, that he who shed it, thought it no robbery to be equal with God, and presented himself on the cross a sin-atoning victim to Almighty God. However, therefore, we may admit the dictates of candour respecting some points of “doubtful disputation,” and embrace in Christian love the differing parties respectively; we can never give up the doctrine of the atonement, without yielding up to our adversaries, at the same time, the very essence of truth, the glory of the gospel, and the only foundation of our hopes and prospects for ever. Nay, we may boldly affirm, that the scheme of religion that is not formed upon this plan, wants every thing essential to the glory of the divine perfections, and every thing that can consistently secure the peace and salvation of man, as a sinner. All the opponents of this truth, who choose to discriminate themselves by names flattering to their pride, or declarative of their attachment to some stale and long-exploded heresy, are in the same predicament with Jews and Greeks; the basis of whose religion was pride and self-righteousness. What men call natural religion, rational religion, or New Jerusalem doctrine—those pompous schemes of human contrivance, emblazoned with glittering epithets to catch the unwary, and only suited to the wild fancy of visionaries and deists—I say, what men thus call religion, if not founded on the propitiation and righteousness of the Son of God, is the religion of Satan, and must lead to his kingdom. For, how that system, which leaves out the infinite virtue of the death of Jesus, as an expiation for sin, can ever bring a man to heaven, I cannot conceive, when I find it written, “there remaineth no more sacrifice for sin,” when that is denied or degraded, “but a certain fearful looking-for of judgment.” Heb. x. 26, 27. So that, as true religion is in its origin of God, who planned its system, and plants its celestial seed in the heart; so, in its foundation, it is equally divine, being built on the knowledge of Christ crucified, and “through faith in his blood.” Rom. iii. 25.

3. The nature and influence of religion demand our next consideration. To judge accurately both of the one and the other, it will be necessary to abstract whatever is circumstantial, external, nominal, or adventitious, and to confine our ideas to that which is essential and intrinsic. And in this disquisition, we only act by the same rule, which we observe when forming a judgment of the real worth of an individual. We leave out the accidents of birth, office, titles, fortune, and form our idea of the man from his mind, from the state of his heart, from his virtuous excellence. Any other mode of forming an estimate of characters in a moral point of view, only tends to confound our ideas, and leads to a servile admiration of what is neither great nor excellent in itself: which lays the foundation of all the false homage men often pay to profligacy and meanness, because they happen to be titled and rich. Apply this to religion. We cannot form a true estimate of its nature from the pomp and dignities with which the profession of it is invested in some of its ostensible patrons; nor from any external forms, however excellent in themselves, if men rest in them, and go no farther. Forms no more constitute religion, than the external trappings of rank and retinue constitute the man. On the contrary, St. Paul classes with the very worst of characters, those, “who have only the form of godliness, but deny its power.” 2 Tim. iii. 5. So does the prophet Isaiah, when describing those who “drew nigh to God and honoured him with their lips, while their hearts were FAR FROM him,” Isa. xxix. 13; though in the language of pomp and delusion they vainly boasted, “The temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord are these.” True religion is the religion of the heart. For God is a spirit; and they who worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth.

Solomon describes its nature, when he demands, in the name of Jehovah, “My son, give me thy heart.” Prov. xxiii. 26. So does St. Paul, who says, “The kingdom of God is not meat and drink,” does not consist in outward things, “but is righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost.” Rom. xiv. 17. And again, when endeavouring to undeceive the Jews, who were blind on this very point, he says, “He is not a Jew who is one outwardly, neither is that circumcision which is outward in the flesh: but he is a Jew who is one inwardly, and circumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, not in the letter, whose praise is not of men but of God.” Rom. ii. 28, 29. Forms may be excellent; the means of grace are necessary, and of divine institution. They are however but means, and operate, through the blessing of God, as the transparent medium does, which admits the light of the sun into a place of worship. But he who rests in them, and supposes a regular attendance upon them to be the whole of what is required in religious homage, thinks and acts as absurdly as a man, who, trusting to a transparent medium still to give him light, after the sun had quitted the horizon and ceased to illuminate the hemisphere, should find himself involved in the darkness of night. A sad but true emblem of the situation of the sinner, whose heart is not given up to God and changed by his grace; who sits down contented with the formalities of religion, though in the “region and shadow of death,” till death dissolves the delusion, and consigns him to the blackness of darkness for ever.

When we say that religion is the religion of the heart, we mean to extend our description of its nature far beyond outward form, or mere moral decency. Religion includes morality, but it comprehends much more. A sinner may be outwardly moral, and inwardly immoral, as the pharisees were, full of self-righteousness, pride, love of the world, and hypocrisy. The civilization produced by morality alone, is like the whiting of a sepulchre, which is full of rottenness within. Our Lord’s advice to such characters among the Jews, was, “cleanse first that which is WITHIN.” The essential characteristics of the religion of the heart, are faith, humility, and love: the first of these graces, leading the renewed sinner to eye nothing for the justification of his person before God, or the peace of his conscience, but the complete work of Jesus finished on the cross; the second, making him abhor himself and repent as in dust and ashes; and the third, prompting him to love, with a supreme and ardent affection, that gracious God, who hath loved him in his Son; and to whom, from that sacred and noble principle, he wishes heart and life to be solemnly and unreservedly consecrated. But, in the religion of a mere moralist, these three graces make no constituent part. His faith is dead, being made up of speculation, and some general notions, without any regard to the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. His humility, if he pretend to any, is feigned, or consists in condescending to let the Redeemer have a share in the honour of his salvation. And his love, having no gospel root, is servile, or imaginary, or absolutely false, not springing from a sense of the pure love of God to sinners in his crucified Son. In short, he has every thing of religion but its essence. And, wanting that, nothing remains in his possession to boast of, but the shadow, and the form; whereas, religion itself is a sacred flame kindled at the cross of Christ; which, while contemplating the love that bound him there, has, like the living creatures in St. John’s vision, Rev. iv. “eyes within,” to view with sorrow the fallen and guilty nature, which requires his blood to cleanse it, and his love to conquer. A sight that softens the heart, and diffuses throughout all its powers a sense of the love of God, the strongest incentive to gratitude and obedience. Hence, a celebrated Christian poet of our own says,

“Talk they of morals? O thou bleeding love!
Thou Maker of new morals to mankind!
The grand morality is love of thee!”

4. In describing the influence of religion, we mean not to extend it so far as to suppose it extirpates every vestige of the fall, or destroys all the relicks of human frailty. It is not the religion of angels, nor of “the spirits of just men made perfect,” but the religion of the soul imprisoned in the body, and embarrassed by that enclosure, in the exertion of its faculties, that is the subject of our consideration. It is the religion of sinners, saved by grace; and, as sinners, to the very last moment of life, depending upon grace alone: in whom, amidst their various conflicts, and numberless infirmities, it nevertheless produces the most surprising effects. Observe its influence on the heart of a sinner. It softens what was obdurate as the rock, and fixes what was inconstant as the wind; arrests the fugitive in his flight from the ways of God, and brings the once profligate prodigal back to his father’s house with a heart pierced with sorrow for past transgressions, and more deeply still by a sense of the love that pardons them. It makes the stout-hearted tremble before the majesty and power of Jehovah, and constrains the abandoned to give up the most beloved lusts. It produces greater wonder still, in obliging the pharisee to give up his self-righteousness, and the formalist to trust no longer in his forms. It can light up a sacred flame in the breasts that had been frozen with formality, and dilate with sentiments of pure benevolence a heart long contracted by self-complacency or worldly-mindedness. It bursts the bonds of the captive who had been “tied and bound with the chain of his sins;” and makes the self-conceited rationalist, who is no less a captive than the profligate, to sit down, Mary-like, at the feet of Jesus, in the character of a pupil, a novitiate, a fool. It pours the balm of comfort into the breast of the afflicted, tempted mourner, and makes “the bones that had been broken to rejoice.” Psal. li. What was it that so instantaneously stopped Saul in his career of cruelty and persecution, and changed a blasphemer into a preacher of the faith, which once he destroyed? What was it that brought Magdalen, a prostitute, to bathe the feet of Jesus with tears of penitence and joy, and to wipe them with the hairs of her head? What was it that tore Zaccheus from an occupation of worldly-mindedness and extortion, and disposed him to make restitution, and to give half his goods to the poor? What was it that made Paul and Silas sing praises to God, though smarting under the lashes they had received, and when confined to a loathsome prison? that kept Stephen composed, and filled him with rapturous views of the glory of God, even when his murderers were taking his life; and that enabled those pious heroes of antiquity, mentioned in the Epistle to the Hebrews, to perform so many wonders? It was the sovereign influence of religion in the first instance, its softening and converting power in the second, its expanding efficacy in the third, and its victorious operation in the last.

Mark the influence of religion on society. It is the grand cement of pure and permanent friendship among individuals; is the great preservative against disorder and discord in families; is the sacred bond of union in the assemblies of the righteous; the only safe guarantee of the faith of nations; the healer of divisions; the sovereign peace-maker between contending parties; and the most powerful antidote against strife, animosity, and revenge, and all the other vindictive and turbulent passions, that disquiet the breasts of individuals, break the bonds of domestic tranquillity, or disturb the peace of nations. “From whence come wars and fightings among you?” says St. James: From religion? No, from the want of it. “Come they not hence? even from your lusts that war in your members.” Were religion but universally known, and the empire of the Prince of Peace as extensive as the dominion of pride and secular power, of ambition and revenge, we should then see all the belligerent powers of the earth “beat their swords into plough-shares, and their spears into pruning-hooks,” and wars of every kind cease for ever.

5. The evidences of religion. Religion, when possessing its sacred empire in the heart, is in scripture called by different names, according to the different faculties which it governs, or the passions respectively which it controls. In the understanding, it is light; in the affections, love; in the will, acquiescence and submission. In the passions of the renewed mind, it is the fear of the Lord, which is the beginning of wisdom; the hope that maketh not ashamed; the joy that is unspeakable and full of glory; the holy shame that covers the soul with overwhelming awe in a view of the presence and condescension of God; the peace that passeth all understanding. Under crosses, it is patience; under affronts and injuries, meekness; under persecution and losses for Christ’s sake, fortitude and resignation; in prosperity, humbleness of mind; in adversity, spiritual support; in death, triumph. Considered in a complex point of view, either as implying the commencement of the divine power that produces, or the progressive influence of the grace that advances, that assemblage of the fruits of the Spirit, which form religion into a sort of bright constellation; it is, the new birth, sanctification, the divine life, the image of God restored, the soul’s union to Christ, and a growing meetness for the everlasting inheritance of the saints in light.

Religion, when it can produce tempers so sacred, and so benign, must necessarily display its nature in a course of external evidence before the world. Being in its effects “pure,” and preserving him who is the subject of it “undefiled” from the corruptions that are in the world, it must necessarily teach us to live “righteously, soberly, and godly,” amidst every temptation to injustice, intemperance, and impiety, to which we are every day exposed; as well as provide for the laws by which every relation in social life ought to be governed, from the prince and subject, down to the very lowest ranks of subordinate characters. But let us attend to the particular evidence adduced by St. James. “Pure religion and undefiled before God, even the Father, is this; to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.” Of all the situations, which the calamities of life distinguish among the sons and daughters of affliction, none could be more to the apostle’s purpose, than that of the orphan and the widow; and none more apposite, as an evidence of true religion, than to visit such. The state of the orphan is greatly to be pitied, as being destitute of the guide of his youth, and deprived by a premature stroke of him, to whom nature directs him to look up as to his guardian and support; in a world too, in a passage through which, youth stands so much in need of all that a wise and tender father can do for his offspring. The widow is an object of still greater commiseration; who, besides the affliction of having been bereft of her dearest earthly friend, is left to struggle alone with the difficulties of a family and of the world, to educate with maternal solicitude the party that became an orphan by the same calamity which made her a widow, and to suffer an affliction, which is the more poignant, as her sex, age, and the tender relation in which she had been placed, would contribute to make her feel more sensibly the loss, to which the orphan seldom adverts. These are the parties, whom pure and undefiled religion enjoins us to visit; not for the purpose of mere form or curiosity, but for the purpose of administering actual relief, and mingling with the acts of beneficence the counsel and consolations, which the religion of Jesus inspires. But how few love to make such visits! and how fewer still, to make them in this style! Had our apostle made it a mark of religion to frequent scenes of dissipation, to run the round of worldly pleasure, to mix with each convivial assembly, and to visit only the house of laughter and levity, what multitudes would put in their claim to religion and to the recompense annexed to it! But let not the sons and daughters of dissipation deceive themselves. Religion seeks different society, loves different pleasures, visits the abodes of wretchedness and sorrow, and prefers the house of mourning, where it can shew its sympathy, impart its benefits, and learn lessons suited to the condition of suffering and short lived humanity, above all the gilded scenes of earthly splendor. And we may be bold to say, that if the pleasure-taker could, from the highest style of sensual indulgence, prove, that he tasted delight in any degree equal to that, which he feels, who makes the “widow’s heart to dance for joy;” we would then leave him in peaceable possession of the amusements that engross his time. But as he can never possibly prove it, we must mortify him in the midst of his gratifications, by telling him, that he who liveth in pleasure is “dead while he liveth;” dead to the life of religion and to the offices of real humanity; and that there is an awful day approaching, in which the Judge of heaven and earth shall say to sinners of a certain description, “In as much as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not unto me.”

But humanity and charity do not constitute the whole of religion. Something more is required; and that is, that a man “keep himself unspotted from the world.” The christian character, or the conversation of a true believer, is, according to scripture metaphor, represented under the emblem of a white garment; the color denoting purity and glory. They who walk consistently with their profession, are described as not sullying the purity of it. So our Lord says of some in the church of Sardis, “Thou hast a few names even in Sardis, which have not defiled their garments, and they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy.” Rev. iii. 4. Perhaps the allusion in both places is made to the custom of arraying, as the word signifies, all candidates for offices, as among the Romans, in white robes. Christians are candidates for glory. They are adorned in the white garment of Christ’s righteousness for their justification before God; Rev. iii. 5; and they wear the sacred robe of personal holiness, as the justification of their character before men. The former is incapable of defilement, and is that “fine linen, clean and white, in which the bride, the Lamb’s wife,” is to be adorned in the grand solemnization of her nuptials in the last day. The latter, when under the inspection of omniscience, and compared with the extensive purity of the law, requires to be “washed and made white in the blood of the Lamb.” Rev. viii. 14. It is this last robe, the Christian’s walk and character, which it is incumbent upon him to keep unspotted from the world. And as a white garment shews any accidental defilement on it sooner and more conspicuously, than one of a different color; this application of the emblem points out the greater necessity of watching against every inconsistency, that would disgrace his profession and bring his character into suspicion. The world watches for his halting, and will be ready upon every occasion to impute faults where there are none, and to aggravate and triumph in real ones. If defamation, false charges, misrepresentations, untruths, could really blot the Christian’s garment, it would be never white. But the blackening of the wicked in this respect, is all their own. Happy and blessed the Christian, who, when “the world says all manner of evil of him,” proves by his conduct, that it is “falsely for Christ’s sake.” But it is not from hence that his principal danger arises. The world is less to be feared when it frowns, than when it smiles; and many a professor, who has stood firm in the midst of opposition, has been hugged to death by caresses. In short, he, who is truly wise, will consider the world as a hostile country, in which the enemy of his soul has spread ten thousand snares for the purpose of alluring to destruction. The whole armour of God, and all the power of grace, will be requisite to guard and keep him amidst such innumerable dangers as compass him about. The power, which the world has of accommodating its baits and changing its temptations, will demand the exertion of every grace of the christian soldier. His experience will instruct him when to resist, and when to flee; when to exercise caution, and when to summon up fortitude. Sometimes he will be in danger of loving the world; at other times, of fearing it too much. “The course of this world” being totally opposite to the word of God, and its principles, maxims, and amusements, tending to promote error, vanity, and sin, he will often recollect the words of Solomon, “Can a man take fire in his bosom, and his clothes not be burned? Can one go upon hot coals, and his feet not be burned? So he that goeth in to his neighbour’s wife; whosoever toucheth her, shall not be innocent.” Prov. vi. 27, 29. And he will pray with David, “Keep back thy servant from presumptuous sins, let them not have dominion over me, then I shall be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression.” Psal. xix. 13. The words of St. Paul too, warn and animate him. “Come out from among them, and be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing, and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty.” 2 Cor. vi. 17, 18.

But it is not only from the spots of gross criminality, or the commission of flagrant offences, that religion teaches us to keep ourselves pure and undefiled. Even the smallest approaches to these, or a temptation to any, in the secret workings of inward depravity, give the Christian infinitely more pain, than acts of injustice do the fraudulent; a life of unremitted excess, the licentious; or adultery, that epitome of all villanies, the wretch, who, by committing it, gives the most deadly stab to his own reputation, and the deepest wound to his neighbour’s peace. An idea in the imagination, a thought, a word, any sudden sally of unguarded temper, that cannot be justified or harboured, without grieving the Holy Spirit, and violating truth, will give him pain, and excite resistance, and produce humiliation. The conscience of the believer being “cleansed from dead works to serve the living God,” is susceptible of the slightest spot; while that, which is totally defiled by long accumulated guilt, feels no uneasy sensation, and sees not its own pollution. Being made the seat of sensibility as well as of purity, the conscience, though wounded with even a slight offence, is like the tender organ of the eve, when only a mote incommodes or lacerates its delicate texture. It makes him weep, and robs him of repose, till that blood which washes out the deepest or the slightest stain of sin, and that Spirit who subdues its power, renew their respective and sovereign influence. This guard against the access of inward defilement, and this gospel mode of cleansing it, are the only safe preservatives from grosser corruptions. Therefore, as the heart, like tinder, is too susceptive of the sparks of temptation, he shuns the converse of those, through whom he might be drawn aside; thinking his character too sacred to be habitually mixed or trusted with the company of the gay and irreligious; and his peace too precious, to be lost by what, in review, must often give so much pain, without the smallest real advantage. Even if there were no other argument to enforce the necessity of keeping ourselves unspotted from the world, this is sufficiently strong and alarming; that that very world, by a sinful conformity to which, men contract guilt and risk salvation, after having acted as tempter, will, like Satan, be the very first to turn accuser, and tormentor.

The consolations of religion. When we recommend the consolations of religion, as an argument to engage men to enter upon the experience and practice of it, we cannot so far delude their hopes, as to insinuate, that it excludes every idea of trouble and conflict, as well as every sensation of sorrow and solicitude. As compared to a warfare, a pilgrimage, a race, religion must, of course, presuppose enemies, who cannot be overcome without fighting; a journey, that cannot be undertaken and completed without difficulties; and a prize, which cannot be won by indolence and inaction.

Every science and art is attended with difficulties; and nothing that is useful and ornamental in the business of life can be acquired without study, and toil, by which the value and pleasure of the acquisition are proportionably increased. Can any persons, then, reasonably expect, that in a world lying in the wicked one, they should meet with no opposition? in a body of sin and death, they should feel no conflicts? that their peace should remain undisturbed by any annoyance from Satan? that no thorns should perplex their path in a wilderness, in which nothing naturally grows but sorrow, sin, and care? and that their head should be hereafter adorned with an immortal crown, without sustaining one previous cross, or making one sacrifice in their way to it? They cannot suppose this. The great Author of religion says, “Except a man deny himself, take up his cross and follow me, he cannot be my disciple. Strive to enter in at the strait gate.” Yet, to encourage the diffident, and fix the resolution of the hesitating and the timid, an apostle assures us, that God “hath given everlasting consolation and good hope through grace” to all believers in Christ.

The Lord himself says, “As one whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort you. In the world you shall have tribulation; but in me, you shall have peace.” The unhappiness of mankind arises in general from five principal causes; from guilt in the conscience, tyranny in the passions, want of real enjoyment in what they possess, want of spiritual resource under affliction, and an inordinate love of life, which makes death terrible, and even the thought of it the most imbittering intruder into the human breast. But against all this mass of wretchedness, religion provides an antidote. If we know and follow Christ, he will bring the peace which he purchased on the cross, into our conscience; he will sanctify and govern our passions, and make our heart the seat of his peaceful dominion; the enjoyment of his “favor, which is better than life,” will give a sacred zest to ordinary comforts, and fill up in our soul, a void, which the whole world cannot satisfy; he will keep us resigned amidst the cares of life, and tranquil in the prospect of its awful close. Life shall have no real bitterness; sin, no dominion; the smiling world, no real charms; and death, no real sting, when we can say, “My beloved is mine, and I am his.” Under crosses and adversity, we shall never want a spring of comfort in the salvation of Jesus, nor want a friend, when interested in the love of Him, who drank up the dregs of inexpressible sorrow, that we might partake of the richest ingredients in the cup of gospel consolation. However chequered our scene of life may be in the dispensations of Providence, being made up of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, crosses and comforts, his grace will enable us to adopt the language of primitive Christianity, and say, “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.” 2 Cor. iv. 8, 9. “As tribulation aboundeth, our consolations in Christ shall much more abound.” And as they flow from a source, which is as perennial as it is pure, and are founded upon a basis as firm as the covenant and oath of Jehovah, can any language describe the happiness of true religion, when its real votaries can pronounce in faith and experience, the two following sentences of sacred writ? “Our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. We know that when the earthly house of this tabernacle is dissolved, we have a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”

The loveliness of religion. Another and most powerful allurement into the ways of religion, is the loveliness of its character in those who adorn its profession. St. Paul ranks “whatsoever things are lovely with whatsoever things are true, honest, just, pure, and of good report.” Phil. iv. 8. And, as true religion is the work of Christ, delineates his image, and is one of the brightest emanations from the glory of the Sun of righteousness, we may say of it, as of its divine Author, that it is “altogether lovely.” In regulating our opinion, and dilating our ideas on this subject, some caution is necessary, lest we mistake counterfeits for the original, and fall in love with appearances, or even with deformity. Whatever hopes we may entertain of the existence of religion in the hearts of some, who profess it, under great disadvantages, arising from natural temper, prejudices of education, weakness of capacity, or rusticity of manners; it is not from such that we are to form our idea of what is amiable. Still less are we to draw the portrait from the impertinent sallies of juvenile profession; from the affected look of solemn ignorance; from the affectedly sanctimonious aspect, with all the pharisaic contorsions of features and the grimaces that form it, an apology often for want of genuine sanctity within; not from the starched behaviour and rigid manners, that excite contempt and confirm prejudices; not from the insufferable pomp of illiteracy, assuming the dictator’s air, and demanding all that respect, which an humble sense of deficiencies would procure; not from the forbidding brow and sour-address, those terrific guards that some plant around their persons, lest you should approach too near, or make too free with their self-consequence; not from the unfortunate manners of those, who behave as if they thought there should always subsist an irreconcilable variance between the character of a gentleman and that of a Christian; not from the false fire of those, who make an abrupt remark, a haughty air, a pert censure, the marks of religious zeal, and seem to have no more idea of prudence, than if the word was not to be found in the Bible, and the grace itself constituted no part of the christian character. All these blemishes in religious profession have nothing to do with the loveliness of religion, and in too many instances carry a strong implication of the want of the thing itself. Religion is first pure, then peaceable, “gentle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and of good fruits.” It is modest, unassuming, kind, benevolent. The “law of kindness is in its lips;” and, without being servile, fawning, adulatory, or timid, can tincture the manners of a Christian with delicacy, and give to one, who is firm as a rock in his attachment to truth, all imaginable softness and delicacy of address. It dreads clamor, and is equally remote from forwardness and impetuosity. It “bridles the tongue,” and forms that “unruly member” for uttering the dialect of candor, gentleness, and caution. It imparts the wisdom of the serpent without the poison of its subtilty, and the harmlessness of the dove without its timidity. It is discerning, and can explore characters without impertinent curiosity, without any pretensions to prophetic intuition, or any interference with the private concerns of others. It teaches to cultivate friendship from disinterested motives, and to guard it by acts of delicacy and reciprocal generosity; and will enable a Christian to make sacrifices here, when the connexion is manifestly dangerous, whatever may be the consequences arising from the misrepresentations or slanderous tales of the rejected party. In short, the loveliness of religion and religion itself appear so interwoven with each other, that we cannot in some points of view separate them without destroying the very essence of Christianity. Of this, our Lord’s sermon upon the mount, and St. Paul’s beautiful delineation of charity, that is love, in 1 Cor. xiii. afford a striking proof. “Love suffereth long and is kind; charity envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth (?e?e? covereth) all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.” The close examination of one of these passages made a great man once exclaim, “Either this is not true, or we are not Christians.” And, perhaps, were some but to alter the form of the exclamation, by making the first member of the sentence an affirmative, and leaving the last in its negative state, and then apply the whole to themselves, they would utter an awful truth, declarative of the real condition of their character before God.

A distinguished writer observes, that St. Paul, in the above description of charity, had certain characters in view, whom he wished to wound through the medium of an abstract delineation, rather than expose them by personal or local references. In doing this, he acted like a surgeon, who once enclosed a lancet in a sponge, which he applied to a breast that wanted opening, under a pretence of washing it, and by that delicate method at once prevented the fears of his patient and performed the operation that restored her health. But it should seem that the apostle had to do with persons more impressible by the strokes of his cutting pen, than those whom, in the present day, an easy and callous profession hath rendered impenetrable by the lancet of truth, however smooth its edge, however soft the medium through which it passes, and however delicate the operation throughout. Men, long accustomed to the favorite element of teaching, dictating, and reproving others, seem to claim an exclusive right of using the lancet themselves. And, if they have learned to call rudeness and rusticity of manners, or ill-timed reprehension, by the sacred name of faithfulness, that word so much abused in the mouths of the forward and impetuous, the disease becomes almost incurable. It is in vain that the lancet directed against themselves be oiled or enveloped in sponge by the most cautious hand. A hint will awaken their resentment, and the most delicate wound given to the vulnerable part will only send them into company to give vent to their malignant feelings, by copious effusions of slander and invective, or make them ascend a pulpit to scold and storm there. Yet the former is called honesty or faithfulness, and the latter, to the scandal of the most sacred and lovely exercise, is termed preaching. If any thing be more surprising than this, it is, that the one should meet with defenders, and the other with private patrons. But what is it, which the ignorance, the false zeal, and the wickedness of some will not prompt them to defend? With such, the grand plea is, that the truth is spoken. But it is this very fact that is the grand aggravation. Let religion be only left out of the question, and our complaints cease. But to borrow its sacred name as a vehicle of conveyance for gall and wormwood, and then to quote it in justification of the most unhallowed tempers, is a double inconsistency, equally fraught with false reasoning and sin. This is to furnish an answer to a question proposed by St. James, to which he thought none but a negative one could be given. “Doth a fountain send forth at the same place sweet water and bitter?” “Yes,” may some say, “we will undertake to exemplify this phenomenon, by making our tongues the vehicle of malignity and grace.” We would hope, however, for the honor of religion, and the credit of the apostle’s metaphor, that the malignity only, in many instances, comes from the “fountain” within, and the sound of grace is confined to the tongue, as its place of residence. What, then, are the most splendid talents, the finest chain of reasoning, or the greatest extent of oratorical powers, if unaccompanied, as they certainly may be, with the temper of Christianity? And in what light are we to look upon that false fire, which has none of these glittering recommendations, but makes its bold advance in the rude garb of confidence, illiteracy, and moroseness? The former is bearable, as a display of genius; but the latter, having neither genius nor religion, is insupportably detestable: and the best antidote against the dangerous influence of both, is a close consideration of the words of St. Paul, “Put on therefore (as the elect of God, holy and beloved) bowels of mercies, kindness, humbleness of mind, meekness, long-suffering; Col. iii. 12: let all bitterness and wrath, and anger, and clamor, and evil-speaking, be put away from you, with all malice; and be ye kind one to another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another, even as God, for Christ’s sake, hath forgiven you.” Ephes. iv. 31, 32.

Some little acquaintance with the religious world, added, I hope, to some little knowledge of religion itself, has helped to furnish these remarks. Subjects are seen to most advantage, when placed in a contrasted point of view. And as there cannot exist a greater contrast than the essence of religion, when opposed to the spurious profession of it, or the loveliness of its character to the deformity in which it is sometimes exhibited; a regard to truth, and a sincere desire to recommend it in its native beauty to those who may have mistaken its nature, or to such as may have been prejudiced through the unlovely behaviour of its injudicious patrons, have extorted from me a discrimination of characters, which, if more amply discussed, would be proportionably useful. Let none then impute to religion, what is only imputable to fallen man, who abuses it; nor any form his ideas of it from the unsightly attire in which enthusiasm or false zeal chooses to array it. To view its genuine excellence, search the scriptures. To form a collective idea of its principal features, take into your account the faith of Abraham, the meekness of Moses, the patience of Job, the wisdom of Solomon, with the deep repentance and sacred zeal of his father; that most noble act of forgiveness shewn by Joseph to his brethren, and by Stephen to his murderers, with the triumph of this lovely temper in the conduct of Jacob towards the enraged Esau; the holy intrepidity of prophets, the persevering boldness of apostles, together with the noble sacrifices which they made, who “took joyfully the spoiling of their goods, and who loved not their lives even unto death,” for the sake of the gospel; the invincible zeal of St. Paul, the boldness of Peter, the affectionate and amiable temper of “the beloved disciple.” But, as some infirmity was blended with the virtues of the most illustrious of these characters, behold all their respective and detached excellencies, concentring in their most bright assemblage, without frailty or sin, in the sacred person and spotless life of the blessed Jesus. In him, the scattered rays of human and angelic excellence all meet, and from him they derive their irradiation. And it is in Jesus alone that you see all the essence, and all the loveliness of religion exemplified; because of him alone it is true “that he was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners.” Form your ideas, in both respects, from him; and from that excellence in every character, that most resembles him. “Let that mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.” Phil. ii. “Be ye followers of me, says Paul, even as I also am of Christ.” And then say, whether religion does not surpass in beauty and excellence, every thing below; that assumes the name of the one or the other. What is it that guides reason, sanctifies philosophy, adorns literature? What, but religion? Without which, the sublimest style of mental exertion may be not only useless in the end, but even pernicious. What is the loveliest form, or the lustre of the fairest countenance, unaccompanied with those tempers and that demeanor, which religion teaches? What is the crowning accomplishment in all those graces, that charm the beholder, and make the possessor of them happy? Religion. Of how much greater worth is the aspect of benevolence, the look of modesty, the calm reply, the gentle and unassuming carriage, than all the blooming tincture of a skin! In vain do the rose and lily diversify their lovely tints to beautify that countenance, which covers a heart full of pride and vanity. Even when disease or age makes ravages on external charms, religion possesses the exclusive power of rendering itself amiable under all these disadvantages, and of communicating loveliness amidst all the ruins of declining nature. But, without religion, how awful the idea of a form, once the object of adoration, consumed by disease and turned into putrefaction by death! once the fair enclosure of a mind, the seat of sin, and now separated, for a season, from those tempers, which being let loose upon the soul, fill it, in its disembodied state, with misery and terror; and, when returning, as they will do in the morning of the resurrection, will complete the unhappiness and disgrace of soul and body for ever! Solemn reflection! Sufficient, one would think, to inspire parents with the ambition of instilling religion, as the grand endowment, into the minds of their children; and to make their offspring anxious to seek the one thing needful. In short, the most elaborate mode of education, in which this is omitted, is but a refined mode of training up the rising generation to the most certain destruction. It is religion that gives the loveliest charms to youth, and makes the hoary head a crown of glory. Even the monarch upon his throne is not half so august by the crown that adorns his brow, as he is, by the religion which makes him the father of his people, and the obedient subject of the King of kings.

The prospects of religion. Were the religion of Jesus Christ to be limited in the duration of its influence to this life alone, it would well demand the care and anxiety of mankind to understand its nature. But “godliness hath not only the promise of this life,” of a secure passage through all its snares, and of a proportion of grace to surmount every difficulty, and come off victorious, but it hath also a promise of that life “which is to come.” The title to it is secured by the everlasting righteousness of Christ, the gift of the Father, the covenant faithfulness of the three persons in the Godhead, and the representation of all God’s elect in the highest heavens, in the person of their illustrious Head. “I will,” says he in John, xvii. “that they whom thou hast given me be with me where I am, that they may behold my glory.” “Whom he justified, them he also GLORIFIED.” Rom. viii. “It is the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. He that believeth hath eternal life,” in the earnest and commencement of it, and shall infallibly have it in its consummation. “He will give grace and he will give glory.” Psal. lxxxiv. The first-fruits here ensure the inheritance hereafter. What Jehovah hath transferred in the bond of the covenant, he will never annul or revoke; because “two immutable things,” the promise and oath, “in which it was impossible for God to lie,” shew to the heirs of promise the immutability of his counsel, and make their admission to glory a certainty in prospect, and, at last, in possession. Thus speaks in the language of sovereign authority the divine person who undertook to purchase, and claims the honour of conferring, eternal life upon his people, “I GIVE UNTO THEM ETERNAL LIFE, AND THEY SHALL NEVER PERISH.”

Such is the glorious prospect, which religion, as a system of infallible truth and divine certainty, sets before the believer in Christ. Several considerations unite their force to prove this prospect of future blessedness, to be in every respect worthy of Him, who gives it, and fully calculated to ascertain the hopes of those who entertain it. The basis of the expectation is the well ordered covenant, or that irreversible stipulation in the contracting parties, by which the Father hath agreed “to give eternal life to as many as he hath given” to the Son. John, xvii. This title-deed is sealed with the blood of the Surety of the New Testament, who became responsible for fulfilling all its conditions. The testament supposes the death of the testator; without which, it has no force. And the testament, solemnly executed by that event, implies a bequest of blessings, the transfer of which must take place in perfect conformity to the will of the testator; which will is a perfect transcript of the covenant of redemption agreed upon “in the counsel of peace which was between both” the Father and the Son before all worlds. The work finished upon the cross by the Mediator, was the accomplishment of that “obedience unto death,” which he had stipulated to render to law and justice, in doing and suffering the will of the Father. Psal. xl. Heb. x. The believer, who receives God’s testimony respecting this transaction, “lays hold of the covenant” to save him from death; apprehends the Mediator’s righteousness as his title to glory, and sees the inheritance now secure by a reversion of the forfeiture incurred through the disobedience of Adam. Here is firm footing. On this rock the believer founds his salvation and builds his prospects, which ought never to be obscured by doubts and uncertainty, since the expectations, which the gospel teaches him to entertain, spring from a hope that is “sure and stedfast, and which entereth into that within the vail.” Heb. vi. 19.

How different is the prospect, afforded through the medium of promises, from that vouchsafed to Moses of the land of Canaan! He was commanded to ascend the top of mount Pisgah, was from thence shewn the goodly inheritance, but, to call to his remembrance and to punish his sin, at the waters of Meribah, was told he must die on that mount, and never personally enter that land which his eye then so wishfully surveyed. Faith gives the prospective view of the celestial Canaan; hope anticipates an admission into it; and nothing can possibly occur to darken the animating prospect, to frustrate the joyful anticipation, or to hinder actual possession. Sin, that would bar the entry, is taken away by the sacrifice of the Son of God. The great “forerunner is for us entered,” and hath taken possession of the glorious inheritance in behalf of his people. Not one angry cloud can intercept the prospect, since the Sun of Righteousness hath arisen with healing in his wings, to dissipate those noxious mists of darkness, which would otherwise have enveloped in impenetrable gloom our views of future happiness. “He hath blotted out as a thick cloud our transgressions, and as a cloud our sins.” The purchase is made in full proportion to the extent and glory of the inheritance, though in both respects infinite. The promise of admission is given by Him, whose veracity is pledged, and whose omnipotence is exerted, to accomplish what he hath spoken. The believer has, therefore, nothing to do but die, and take possession of a portion, of which earth and hell, sin and Satan, law and justice, life and death, cannot deprive him.

Delightful prospect! glorious inheritance! What are the dim uncertain prospects which this world affords, when compared with the luminous and well grounded prospect of future glory! Or what is the duration of them, even if they were realized to the full extent of human wishes, compared with that glorious eternity, which is to stamp perpetuity and purity on the Christian’s bliss through everlasting ages! Here some earthly hope seizes the imagination, and paints there in captivating colours some fair future prospect, that looks bright, and promises bliss. A slight contingence, such as this world abounds with, soon occurs, makes the imaginary Eden vanish, and leaves the soul smarting under the anguish of delusive and disappointed expectation. Happy if those, who have existed in this ideal earthly heaven, see their error, and lay hold on a hope, the powers of which, in their greatest expansion, can never form the idea of that immortality with which it blooms! How often does vain man rest his hope on an arm of flesh, and erect his prospects on human promises, uncertain as the wind, and unsolid as the floating bubble! Religion teaches us to desert these weak resources, and to rely on the promises of the gospel, which, he who revealed them, wants neither sincerity nor ability to fulfil. While multitudes circumscribe their views, and contract their happiness within the narrow limits of a miserable and short-lived existence, imbittered by cares and bounded by time; the believer passes these boundaries, with a noble ambition, enlivens his prospects, and expands his views with the anticipation of future glory. Thus, “mounting on wings as eagles,” he ascends the sacred hill of contemplation; from thence views by the eye of faith the fair inheritance, which is prepared for him; and often breaks out into effusions of joy and gratitude, under the impressions of such a ravishing prospect. “What a rich inheritance does my wondering eye survey! How extensive! how glorious! What is a land flowing with milk and honey, the glory of Israel’s portion, compared with a country, where there are rivers of pleasures, and joys for evermore! Here no sorrow can imbitter, no sin diminish, no enemies interrupt, no lapse of time exhaust, the joys of its blest inhabitants. Here is an eternal sabbath, an uninterrupted state of repose. No fruits of the curse, no assaults of Satan, can endanger the bliss of this Eden, through which flows the river of life, clear as crystal, from the throne of God and of the Lamb, and in which grows the tree of life, whose fruit is the repast of heaven, and whose leaves are for the healing of the nations. Here is that society, which the most perfect harmony unites, which the blood of Christ redeemed, and which his grace shall animate with songs of never-ending praise. Here is the mansion of rest and glory, which the Redeemer went before to prepare for his once disconsolate disciples. But is this mansion mine? Yes. He who purchased it is mine, and I am his; and the mansion where he dwells is mine, by covenant right, by gratuitous donation, by unalterable promise, by rich redemption. Unworthy of admission, his righteousness alone is my title and recommendation. Ah! what are now the little busy scenes of earth, that perplex the mind and engross so much time and thought? or what the gilded trifles of the world, riches, honors, and pleasures? They all die away and disappear, absorbed in this delightful prospect, as stars that vanish before the mid-day sun. The world recedes, heaven opens to my view, death is advancing to fix the period, where my happiness begins, that shall never conclude. Soon shall I see Him, in whom all my hopes and happiness are wrapt up, and cast my crown in deep humility before his throne. Let the world change, time flow with its wonted velocity, the outward man decay, and death put on his most terrific form: still this can make no alteration in my state, or impede my prospects into glory. I rejoice in hope of it, and shall one day enter upon the possession of what ‘eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, and which it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive.’”

Whether we consider religion in its origin, foundation, nature, influence, fruits, and evidences; or examine the consolations it imparts, the attractive loveliness it displays, and the prospects it opens to its happy votaries; it must, in every point of view, be a concern of great importance.

The importance of religion. This an inspired writer comprehends in the following short sentence, “Godliness is profitable for all things.” Man’s best interests here and hereafter, are essentially interwoven with the experience and practice of it. As a dependent, dying, sinful creature, he can never act his part honorably through life, or meet death without dismay or stupefaction, but as supported by the guidance and consolations of true religion. In every line of life it is of infinite utility. By making sin hateful, it guards against the false maxims or vicious examples, that would hide the deformity, or give sanction to the practice of that great abomination. If we ask, Why do fraud, injustice, oppression, predominate, to the overturning of all the rights of humanity, the laws of conscience, and the claims of civil liberty? The answer is at hand. Because the sacred mandates of religion, which transfer these privileges as the unalienable claim of human nature, have been disregarded. Had the voice of religion been only heard, and her merciful dictates obeyed, an inhuman traffic would not, for so long a season, have transmitted its bitter fruits to this country, at the expense of the blood, the sweat and toil, the lives and liberties of millions of our fellow-creatures. Barbarous traffic! that begins, and is prompted by avarice, is conducted by desolation, oppression, and unprovoked hostilities, and that ends in a species of slavery, which, in point of enormity, has hardly ever had an example among the most uncivilized heathens! But who knows but the happy hour of emancipation is at hand? The cries of the poor Africans, that have long entered the ears of the Lord of Sabbath, are likely soon to be carried to the ears of our legislators, through the laudable exertions of some, who deserve all praise for having taken the lead in this humane undertaking. Others are taking up the subject with equal ardor. Let us figure to ourselves, thousands of our fellow-creatures, torn from the embraces of friends and relations, and dragged from their native home; sold by an African tyrant, to a greater one from England; linked together like oxen under a yoke; driven in that ignominious situation to a floating prison that is to receive them; treated without the smallest regard to the delicacy of sex or age; and at last, after a voyage that proves fatal to many, transported to a foreign clime, there to undergo the severest toil, and smart under the lash of a merciless planter; and there, by an accumulation of slavery and misery, often sold by public advertisement like beasts of the field, and transmitted from one mercenary hand to another; till exhausted by excessive toil, or cut off by the tortures of an inventive barbarity, death comes at last, self-procured in many instances, to close the dismal tragedy. I say, let us form to ourselves an idea of this concatenated slavery and misery, in the case of millions of our own species, who have the reason and feelings of men, and then we shall unite our prayers and supplications with the rest of the nation, for the purpose of procuring the abolition of such an execrable traffic. It is a solecism in politics, that in a free constitution, like that of Great Britain, there should exist one slave in the whole extent of the British empire. How great the solecism, then, that it should connive at the commerce that enslaves thousands! Should our legislators take the matter into serious consideration, the act that would emancipate the subjects of West Indian vassalage, would reflect the highest honor on the wisdom and humanity of British legislation, and make the British name more dear and more illustrious, than all the conquests that have carried it with so much renown to every distant corner of the globe. The event would form a memorable epocha in the annals of British history; would exemplify the genius of that pure and undefiled religion, the leading characteristic of which is, that it is “full of mercy;” and would be an imitation of its great Author, who “came not to destroy men’s lives but to save them;” not to rob them of the sweets of liberty, but in the most exalted sense to make them free. The voice of religion, the voice of justice, the voice of humanity, the voice of the nation, and I am sure I may add, the voice of God, says, “Abolish slavery, and extend the blessings of freedom to the oppressed Africans.” What a high indulgence would it be to the feelings of humanity, to be the bearer of the act that would confirm the blessing, and spread the joyful intelligence through the seats of oppression and slavery abroad! [50]But it is not to the West Indies or to Africa alone, that we are to wish the blessings of liberty. Even in this land of freedom we abound with slaves; who, while entreating liberty for others, feel not the chains that enslave themselves to a degree the most humiliating. Many boast of political freedom, who are under the galling yoke of spiritual thraldom. They are tied and bound with the chains of sin, which is the worst slavery, and are led captive by Satan, the most dreadful of tyrants. Yet they bear his yoke contentedly, and feel not the chains that form a sad prelude of eternal captivity. But here the great importance of religion is displayed. By revealing an act of emancipation from the council of the Trinity, and directing a world of captives to look for life and liberty to Jesus the mighty Redeemer, it “opens the prison to them that are bound,” Isa. lxi. 1, and shows a ransom paid down by his precious death, which makes infinite justice say in behalf of the sinner who believes the record, “Deliver him from going down to the pit.” Oh! that each enslaved sinner may apply the great redemption! and, “knowing the truth as it is in Jesus,” be set free from the entanglements of the world, the dominion of his lusts, or the more refined but deeply rooted delusion of self-righteousness!See the importance of religion, when other things, even the most estimable, are brought in competition with it. Form life’s estimate agreeably to the pursuits and plans of its greatest admirers, and throw into the scale whatever weighs heaviest in the opinion of the sons of opulence and of dissipation. Load the balance with riches, honors, pomp, and pleasures, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life. This is the whole aggregate of terrestrial good. But what can all this avail, to shield the sinner from the terrors of the law, the clamors of conscience, or the wrath of Heaven? to give him tranquillity of mind under the pain of inward reproaches, or afford him confidence in the hour of dissolution. “Riches profit not in the day of wrath; but righteousness delivereth from death.” Prov. xi. 4. For how short a season are riches possessed! How many thorny cares, and ensnaring temptations, are connected with that possession to imbitter and make it dangerous. That inward peace which religion inspires, is so far from being the companion of opulence, that the wealthy and the great are in general strangers to its heaven-born influence. The happiness that flows from it, quits the mansions of vicious pomp and earthly magnificence, and takes up its abode in the dwellings of poverty and dependence, where grace teaches contentment, and opens through Christ the prospect of final deliverance from every trouble, in its root and effects. Examine more closely these opposite conditions, with the characters respectively which they include. Fancy a sinner, full of wealth and bold in sin. He lives “as without God in the world,” indulges his pride, and feeds his lusts with the provision, which might be used to the noblest purposes. Accustomed to the tribute of flattery and homage from unfortunate and fawning dependants, his heart drinks in the luscious poison, which feeds his self-consequence, but at the same time renders him more sensible of mortification from the affronts of superiors, and impatient under the afflictive hand of Providence. His heart swells and says, “Who is the Lord that I should obey him?” and his life more emphatically speaks the insolent question. In his family, in his closet, in his conversation, in his thoughts, God has no place, religion is not allowed to enter; except when infidelity fills the scorner’s chair, profaneness animates “the song of the drunkard,” or Satan suggests the bold imprecation, the vulgar oath, or immodest jest. That is, religion is never introduced but to be ridiculed, nor suffered admission for a moment, but to be driven out again with disgrace by the scourge of the infidel’s tongue. Thus he lives independent of the Being, who gave him life, and rebellious against the mercy that spares it. But mercy will not always spare, nor life always last. See him on his death-bed. The farce of life is ending; the curtain about to be drawn on all its pleasurable scenes; and the dismal tragedy begins. If not hardened with infidelity or stupified by disease, all within feels dark, uncertain, and disturbed, full of fears and forebodings, the prelude of hell. What will his riches avail him now? They can procure him medicines, physicians, attendants. But the king of terrors mocks all their assistance. The sinner wants now, what they cannot give: he wants religion. But the joys of that, with all the peace and hope it inspires, are fled for ever. Behold the contrast. Look into the humble habitation of a little family, sequestered from the noise and snares of life, like the humble shrub in a valley, that escapes the fury of the tempest, which tears up by the roots the lofty cedar. See at the head of this modest happy household, an upright Christian, whose industry provides them food, and whose religious example leads them in the way to heaven. His daily resolution resembles that of Joshua, “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord;” and his practice exemplifies it. The morning finds him upon his knees to implore the blessing of Heaven: the day is closed with thanksgivings to God for the gift of his Son, and for every domestic, social, and personal blessing vouchsafed, of which his evening sacrifice is a solemn and grateful recognition. The sacred scriptures are constantly applied to, as to a source of uncorrupted truth, of consolation, guidance, and instruction. The religion which they inspire, sweetens his cares, is a spur to industry, and helps him to bear the frowns of the world, or the visitations of domestic affliction, with patience and submission; persuaded that the goodness and faithfulness of his heavenly Father will “make all work together for good.” To walk by faith with God reconciled to him through the Son of his love; to act as under the inspection of his all-seeing eye in his intercourse with men; to bring forth the fruits of faith and keep a conscience void of the least allowed offence; constitute the main business of life, and the chief object of his care and solicitude.

But [55] see the righteous drawing near the hour of his dissolution; then do the graces of faith, of patience, and of resignation, shine forth with the most resplendent lustre. Confidently relying upon the mercy of God through Jesus Christ, neither the debilitating pains of protracted sickness, nor the more excruciating agonies of acute disorders, provoke a murmur from his lips. At the prospect of that hour, the very thought of which is terrible to the unbeliever, his happy soul exults; and knowing that death is the gate to everlasting life, he longs for the moment of his dismission, when he shall enter into the joy of his Lord, and join the glorified spirits of the redeemed in songs of unceasing praise. How important is Religion, if such be it’s termination, and with how much justice are all our afflictions called light and momentary, seeing they work out for us an eternal and exceeding weight of glory! O my soul, let me die the death of the righteous, and let my latter end be like his!