It may be thought perhaps a strange thing, that God should require us to
believe mysteries, while the reason or manner of what we are to believe
is above our comprehension, and wholly concealed from us: neither doth
it appear at first sight, that the believing or not believing them doth
concern either the glory of God, or contribute to the goodness or
wickedness of our lives. But this is a great and dangerous mistake. We
see what a mighty weight is laid upon faith, both in the Old and New
Testament. In the former we read how the faith of Abraham is praised,
who could believe that God would raise from him a great nation, at the
very time that he was commanded to sacrifice his only son, and despaired
of any other issue. And this was to him a great mystery. Our Saviour is
perpetually preaching faith to his disciples, or reproaching them with
the want of it: and St Paul produceth numerous examples of the wonders
done by faith. And all this is highly reasonable: For faith is an entire
dependence upon the truth, the power, the justice, and the mercy of God;
which dependence will certainly incline us to obey him in all things.
So, that the great excellency of faith, consists in the consequence it
hath upon our actions: as, if we depend upon the truth and wisdom of a
man, we shall certainly be more disposed to follow his advice.
Therefore, let no man think that he can lead as good a moral life
without faith as with it; for this reason, because he who hath no faith,
cannot, by the strength of his own reason or endeavours, so easily
resist temptations, as the other who depends upon God's assistance in
the overcoming his frailties, and is sure to be rewarded for ever in
heaven for his victory over them. "Faith," says the apostle, "is the
evidence of things not seen": he means, that faith is a virtue by which
anything commanded us by God to believe appears evident and certain to
us, although we do not see, nor can conceive it; because, by faith we
entirely depend upon the truth and power of God.

It is an old and true distinction, that things may be above our reason,
without being contrary to it. Of this kind are the power, the nature,
and the universal presence of God, with innumerable other points. How
little do those who quarrel with mysteries, know of the commonest
actions of nature! The growth of an animal, of a plant, or of the
smallest seed, is a mystery to the wisest among men. If an ignorant
person were told that a loadstone would draw iron at a distance, he
might say it was a thing contrary to his reason, and could not believe
before he saw it with his eyes.

The manner whereby the soul and body are united, and how they are
distinguished, is wholly unaccountable to us. We see but one part, and
yet we know we consist of two; and this is a mystery we cannot
comprehend, any more than that of the Trinity.

From what hath been said, it is manifest that God did never command us
to believe, nor his ministers to preach, any doctrine which is contrary
to the reason he hath pleased to endow us with; but for his own wise
ends has thought fit to conceal from us the nature of the thing he
commands; thereby to try our faith and obedience, and increase our
dependence upon him.

It is highly probable, that if God should please to reveal unto us this
great mystery of the Trinity, or some other mysteries in our holy
religion, we should not be able to understand them, unless he would at
the same time think fit to bestow on us some new powers or faculties of
the mind, which we want at present, and are reserved till the day of
resurrection to life eternal. "For now," as the apostle says, "we see
through a glass darkly, but then face to face."

Thus, we see, the matter is brought to this issue: We must either
believe what God directly commands us in Holy Scripture, or we must
wholly reject the Scripture, and the Christian religion which we pretend
to profess. But this, I hope, is too desperate a step for any of us to
make.

I have already observed, that those who preach up the belief of the
Trinity, or of any other mystery, cannot propose any temporal advantage
to themselves by so doing. But this is not the case of those who oppose
these doctrines. Do _they_ lead better moral lives than a good
Christian? Are _they_ more just in their dealings? more chaste, or
temperate, or charitable? Nothing at all of this; but on the contrary,
their intent is to overthrow all religion, that they may gratify their
vices without any reproach from the world, or their own conscience: and
are zealous to bring over as many others as they can to their own
opinions; because it is some kind of imaginary comfort to have a
multitude on their side.

There is no miracle mentioned in Holy Writ, which, if it were strictly
examined, is not as much, contrary to common reason, and as much a
mystery, as this doctrine of the Trinity; and therefore we may, with
equal justice deny the truth of them all. For instance: It is against
the laws of nature, that a human body should be able to walk upon the
water, as St Peter is recorded to have done; or that a dead carcass
should be raised from the grave after three days, when it began to be
corrupted; which those who understand anatomy will pronounce to be
impossible by the common rules of nature and reason. Yet these miracles,
and many others, are positively affirmed in the Gospel; and these we
must believe, or give up our holy religion to atheists and infidels.

I shall now make a few inferences and observations upon what has been
said.

_First_: It would be well, if people would not lay so much weight on
their own reason in matters of religion, as to think everything
impossible and absurd which they cannot conceive. How often do we
contradict the right rules of reason in the whole course of our lives!
Reason itself is true and just, but the reason of every particular man
is weak and wavering, perpetually swayed and turned by his interests,
his passions, and his vices. Let any man but consider, when he hath a
controversy with another, although his cause be ever so unjust, although
the world be against him, how blinded he is by the love of himself, to
believe that right is wrong, and wrong is right, when it maketh for his
own advantage. Where is then the right use of his reason, which he so
much boasts of, and which he would blasphemously set up to control the
commands of the Almighty?

_Secondly_: When men are tempted to deny the mysteries of religion, let
them examine and search into their own hearts, whether they have not
some favourite sin which is of their party in this dispute, and which is
equally contrary to other commands of God in the Gospel. For, why do men
love darkness rather than light? The Scripture tells us, "Because their
deeds are evil;" and there can be no other reason assigned. Therefore
when men are curious and inquisitive to discover some weak sides in
Christianity, and inclined to favour everything that is offered to its
disadvantage; it is plain they wish it were not true, and those wishes
can proceed from nothing but an evil conscience; because, if there be
truth in our religion, their condition must be miserable.

And therefore, _Thirdly_: Men should consider, that raising difficulties
concerning the mysteries in religion, cannot make them more wise,
learned, or virtuous; better neighbours, or friends, or more serviceable
to their country; but, whatever they pretend, will destroy their inward
peace of mind, by perpetual doubts and fears arising in their breasts.
And, God forbid we should ever see the times so bad, when dangerous
opinions in religion will be a means to get favour and preferment;
although, even in such a case, it would be an ill traffic, to gain the
world, and lose our own souls. So, that upon the whole, it will be
impossible to find any real use toward a virtuous or happy life, by
denying the mysteries of the Gospel.

_Fourthly_: Those strong unbelievers, who expect that all mysteries
should be squared and fitted to their own reason, might have somewhat to
say for themselves, if they could satisfy the general reason of mankind
in their opinions: But herein they are miserably defective, absurd, and
ridiculous; they strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel; they can believe
that the world was made by chance; that God doth not concern himself
with things below; will neither punish vice, nor reward virtue; that
religion was invented by cunning men to keep the world in awe; with many
other opinions equally false and detestable, against the common light of
nature as well as reason; against the universal sentiments of all
civilized nations, and offensive to the ears even of a sober heathen.

_Lastly_: Since the world abounds with pestilent books particularly
against this doctrine of the Trinity; it is fit to inform you, that the
authors of them proceed wholly upon a mistake: They would shew how
impossible it is that three can be one, and one can be three; whereas
the Scripture saith no such thing, at least in that manner they would
make it: but, only, that there is some kind of unity and distinction in
the divine nature, which mankind cannot possibly comprehend: thus, the
whole doctrine is short and plain, and in itself incapable of any
controversy: since God himself hath pronounced the fact, but wholly
concealed the manner. And therefore many divines, who thought fit to
answer those wicked books, have been mistaken too, by answering fools in
their folly; and endeavouring to explain a mystery, which God intended
to keep secret from us. And, as I would exhort all men to avoid reading
those wicked books written against this doctrine, as dangerous and
pernicious; so I think they may omit the answers, as unnecessary. This I
confess will probably affect but few or none among the generality of our
congregations, who do not much trouble themselves with books, at least
of this kind. However, many who do not read themselves, are seduced by
others that do; and thus become unbelievers upon trust and at
second-hand; and this is too frequent a case: for which reason I have
endeavoured to put this doctrine upon a short and sure foot, levelled to
the meanest understanding; by which we may, as the apostle directs, be
ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh us a reason of
the hope that is in us, with meekness and fear.

And, thus I have done with my subject, which probably I should not have
chosen, if I had not been invited to it by the occasion of this season,
appointed on purpose to celebrate the mysteries of the Trinity, and the
descent of the Holy Ghost, wherein we pray to be kept stedfast in this
faith; and what this faith is I have shewn you in the plainest manner I
could. For, upon the whole, it is no more than this: God commandeth us,
by our dependence upon His truth, and His Holy Word, to believe a fact
that we do not understand. And, this is no more than what we do every
day in the works of nature, upon the credit of men of learning. Without
faith we can do no works acceptable to God; for, if they proceed from
any other principle, they will not advance our salvation; and this
faith, as I have explained it, we may acquire without giving up our
senses, or contradicting our reason. May God of his infinite mercy
inspire us with true faith in every article and mystery of our holy
religion, so as to dispose us to do what is pleasing in his sight; and
this we pray through Jesus Christ, to whom, with the Father and the Holy
Ghost, the mysterious, incomprehensible ONE GOD, be all honour and glory
now and for evermore! _Amen_.




ON BROTHERLY LOVE.[1]

[Footnote: 1 Notwithstanding the text and title of this sermon, and the
many excellent observations which it contains in illustration of both,
there are several passages in it which the dissenters of the time would
hardly consider as propitiatory towards the continuance of brotherly
love. There are also various allusions to the parties which raged at the
time, and some which appear to have been written in defence of the
preacher's character, then severely arraigned by the Irish Whigs, and
held in abhorrence by the people of Dublin, by whom he was afterwards
idolized. [S.]]


HEB. XIII. I.

"Let brotherly love continue."


In the early times of the Gospel, the Christians were very much
distinguished from all other bodies of men, by the great and constant
love they bore to each other; which, although it was done in obedience
to the frequent injunctions of our Saviour and his apostles, yet, I
confess, there seemeth to have been likewise a natural reason, that very
much promoted it. For the Christians then were few and scattered, living
under persecution by the heathens round about them, in whose hands was
all the civil and military power; and there is nothing so apt to unite
the minds and hearts of men, or to beget love and tenderness, as a
general distress. The first dissensions between Christians took their
beginning from the errors and heresies that arose among them; many of
those heresies, sometimes extinguished, and sometimes reviving, or
succeeded by others, remain to this day; and having been made
instruments to the pride, avarice, or ambition, of ill-designing men, by
extinguishing brotherly love, have been the cause of infinite
calamities, as well as corruptions of faith and manners, in the
Christian world.

The last legacy of Christ was peace and mutual love; but then he
foretold, that he came to send a sword upon the earth: The primitive
Christians accepted the legacy, and their successors down to the present
age have been largely fulfilling his prophecy. But whatever the practice
of mankind hath been, or still continues, there is no duty more
incumbent upon those who profess the Gospel, than that of brotherly
love; which, whoever could restore in any degree among men, would be an
instrument of more good to human society, than ever was, or will be,
done by all the statesmen and politicians in the world.

It is upon this subject of brotherly love, that I intend to discourse at
present, and the method I observe shall be as follows:--

I. _First_, I will inquire into the causes of this great want of
brotherly love among us.

II. _Secondly_, I will lay open the sad effects and consequences, which
our animosities and mutual hatred have produced.

III. _Lastly_, I will use some motives and exhortations, that may
persuade you to embrace brotherly love, and continue in it.


I. _First_, I shall enquire into the causes of this great want of
brotherly love among us.

This nation of ours hath, for an hundred years past, been infested by
two enemies, the Papists and fanatics, who, each in their turns, filled
it with blood and slaughter, and, for a time, destroyed both the Church
and government. The memory of these events hath put all true Protestants
equally upon their guard against both these adversaries, who, by
consequence, do equally hate us. The fanatics revile us, as too nearly
approaching to Popery; and the Papists condemn us, as bordering too much
on fanaticism. The Papists, God be praised, are, by the wisdom of our
laws, put out of all visible possibility of hurting us; besides, their
religion is so generally abhorred, that they have no advocates or
abettors among Protestants to assist them. But the fanatics are to be
considered in another light; they have had of late years the power, the
luck, or the cunning, to divide us among ourselves; they have
endeavoured to represent all those who have been so bold as to oppose
their errors and designs, under the character of persons disaffected to
the government; and they have so far succeeded, that, now-a-days, if a
clergyman happens to preach with any zeal and vehemence against the sin
and danger of schism, there will not want too many, in his congregation,
ready enough to censure him as hot and high-flying, an inflamer of men's
minds, an enemy to moderation, and disloyal to his prince. This hath
produced a formed and settled division between those who profess the
same doctrine and discipline; while they who call themselves moderate
are forced to widen their bottom, by sacrificing their principles and
their brethren to the encroachments and insolence of dissenters, who are
therefore answerable, as a principal cause of all that hatred and
animosity now reigning among us.

Another cause of the great want of brotherly love is the weakness and
folly of too many among you of the lower sort, who are made the tools
and instruments of your betters to work their designs, wherein you have
no concern. Your numbers make you of use, and cunning men take the
advantage, by putting words into your mouths, which you do not
understand; then they fix good or ill characters to those words, as it
best serves their purposes: And thus you are taught to love or hate, you
know not what or why; you often suspect your best friends, and nearest
neighbours, even your teacher himself, without any reason, if your
leaders once taught you to call him by a name, which they tell you
signifieth some very bad thing.

A third cause of our great want of brotherly love seemeth to be, that
this duty is not so often insisted on from the pulpit, as it ought to be
in such times as these; on the contrary, it is to be doubted, whether
doctrines are not sometimes delivered by an ungoverned zeal, a desire to
be distinguished, or a view of interest, which produce quite different
effects; when, upon occasions set apart to return thanks to God for some
public blessing, the time is employed in stirring up one part of the
congregation against the other, by representations of things and
persons, which God, in his mercy, forgive those who are guilty of.

The last cause I shall mention of the want of brotherly love is, that
unhappy disposition towards politics among the trading people, which has
been industriously instilled into them. In former times, the middle and
lower sorts of mankind seldom gained or lost by the factions of the
kingdom, and therefore were little concerned in them, further than as
matter of talk and amusement; but now the meanest dealer will expect to
turn the penny by the merits of his party. He can represent his
neighbour as a man of dangerous principles, can bring a railing
accusation against him, perhaps a criminal one, and so rob him of his
livelihood, and find his own account by that much more than if he had
disparaged his neighbour's goods, or defamed him as a cheat. For so it
happens, that, instead of enquiring into the skill or honesty of those
kind of people, the manner is now to enquire into their party, and to
reject or encourage them accordingly; which proceeding hath made our
people, in general, such able politicians, that all the artifice,
flattery, dissimulation, diligence, and dexterity, in undermining each
other, which the satirical wit of men hath charged upon courts; together
with all the rage and violence, cruelty and injustice, which have been
ever imputed to public assemblies; are with us (so polite are we grown)
to be seen among our meanest traders and artificers in the greatest
perfection. All which, as it may be matter of some humiliation to the
wise and mighty of this world, so the effects thereof may, perhaps, in
time, prove very different from what, I hope in charity, were ever
foreseen or intended.

II. I will therefore now, in the second place, lay open some of the sad
effects and consequences which our animosities and mutual hatred have
produced.

And the first ill consequence is, that our want of brotherly love hath
almost driven out all sense of religion from among us, which cannot well
be otherwise; for since our Saviour laid so much weight upon his
disciples loving one another, that he gave it among his last
instructions; and since the primitive Christians are allowed to have
chiefly propagated the faith by their strict observance of that
instruction, it must follow that, in proportion as brotherly love
declineth, Christianity will do so too. The little religion there is in
the world, hath been observed to reside chiefly among the middle and
lower sorts of people, who are neither tempted to pride nor luxury by
great riches, nor to desperate courses by extreme poverty: And truly I,
upon that account, have thought it a happiness, that those who are under
my immediate care are generally of that condition; but where party hath
once made entrance, with all its consequences of hatred, envy,
partiality, and virulence, religion cannot long keep its hold in any
state or degree of life whatsoever. For, if the great men of the world
have been censured in all ages for mingling too little religion with
their politics, what a havoc of principles must they needs make in
unlearned and irregular heads; of which indeed the effects are already
too visible and melancholy all over the kingdom!

Another ill consequence from our want of brotherly love is, that it
increaseth the insolence of the fanatics; and this partly ariseth from a
mistaken meaning of the word moderation; a word which hath been much
abused, and bandied about for several years past. There are too many
people indifferent enough to all religion; there are many others, who
dislike the clergy, and would have them live in poverty and dependence;
both these sorts are much commended by the fanatics for moderate men,
ready to put an end to our divisions, and to make a general union among
Protestants. Many ignorant well-meaning people are deceived by these
appearances, strengthened with great pretences to loyalty: and these
occasions the fanatics lay hold on, to revile the doctrine and
discipline of the Church, and even insult and oppress the clergy
wherever their numbers or favourers will bear them out; insomuch, that
one wilful refractory fanatic hath been able to disturb a whole parish
for many years together. But the most moderate and favoured divines dare
not own, that the word moderation, with respect to the dissenters, can
be at all applied to their religion, but is purely personal or
prudential. No good man repineth at the liberty of conscience they
enjoy; and, perhaps a very moderate divine may think better of their
loyalty than others do; or, to speak after the manner of men, may think
it necessary, that all Protestants should be united against the common
enemy; or out of discretion, or other reasons best known to himself, be
tender of mentioning them at all. But still the errors of the dissenters
are all fixed and determined, and must, upon demand, be acknowledged by
all the divines of our church, whether they be called, in party phrase,
high or low, moderate or violent. And further, I believe it would be
hard to find many moderate divines, who, if their opinion were asked
whether dissenters should be trusted with power, could, according to
their consciences, answer in the affirmative; from whence it is plain,
that all the stir which the fanatics have made with this word
moderation, was only meant to increase our divisions, and widen them so
far as to make room for themselves to get in between. And this is the
only scheme they ever had (except that of destroying root and branch)
for the uniting of Protestants, they so much talk of.

I shall mention but one ill consequence more, which attends our want of
brotherly love; that it hath put an end to all hospitality and
friendship, all good correspondence and commerce between mankind. There
are indeed such things as leagues and confederacies among those of the
same party; but surely God never intended that men should be so limited
in the choice of their friends: However, so it is in town and country,
in every parish and street; the pastor is divided from his flock, the
father from his son, and the house often divided against itself. Men's
very natures are soured, and their passions inflamed, when they meet in
party clubs, and spend their time in nothing else but railing at the
opposite side; thus every man alive among us is encompassed with a
million of enemies of his own country, among which his oldest
acquaintance and friends, and kindred themselves, are often of the
number; neither can people of different parties mix together without
constraint, suspicion, or jealousy, watching every word they speak, for
fear of giving offence, or else falling into rudeness and reproaches,
and so leaving themselves open to the malice and corruption of
informers, who were never more numerous or expert in their trade. And as
a further addition to this evil, those very few, who, by the goodness
and generosity of their nature, do in their own hearts despise this
narrow principle of confining their friendship and esteem, their charity
and good offices, to those of their own party, yet dare not discover
their good inclinations, for fear of losing their favour and interest.
And others again, whom God had formed with mild and gentle dispositions,
think it necessary to put a force upon their own tempers, by acting a
noisy, violent, malicious part, as a means to be distinguished. Thus hath
party got the better of the very genius and constitution of our people;
so that whoever reads the character of the English in former ages, will
hardly believe their present posterity to be of the same nation or
climate.

III. I shall now, in the last place, make use of some motives and
exhortations, that may persuade you to embrace brotherly love, and
continue in it. Let me apply myself to you of the lower sort, and desire
you will consider, when any of you make use of fair and enticing words
to draw in customers, whether you do it for their sakes or your own. And
then, for whose sakes do you think it is, that your leaders are so
industrious to put into your heads all that party rage and virulence? Is
it not to make you the tools and instruments, by which they work out
their own designs? Has this spirit of faction been useful to any of you
in your worldly concerns, except to those who have traded in whispering,
backbiting, or informing, and wanted skill or honesty to thrive by
fairer methods? It is no business of yours to inquire, who is at the
head of armies, or of councils, unless you had power and skill to
choose, neither of which is ever likely to be your case; and therefore
to fill your heads with fears, and hatred of persons and things, of
which it is impossible you can ever make a right judgment, or to set you
at variance with your neighbour, because his thoughts are not the same
as yours, is not only in a very gross manner to cheat you of your time
and quiet, but likewise to endanger your souls.

_Secondly_: In order to restore brotherly love, let me earnestly exhort
you to stand firm in your religion; I mean, the true religion hitherto
established among us, without varying in the least either to Popery on
the one side, or to fanaticism on the other; and in a particular manner
beware of that word, moderation; and believe it, that your neighbour is
not immediately a villain, a Papist, and a traitor, because the fanatics
and their adherents will not allow him to be a moderate man.

Nay, it is very probable, that your teacher himself may be a loyal,
pious, and able divine, without the least grain of moderation, as the
word is too frequently understood. Therefore, to set you right in this
matter, I will lay before you the character of a truly moderate man, and
then I will give you the description of such a one as falsely pretendeth
to that title.

A man truly moderate is steady in the doctrine and discipline of the
Church, but with a due Christian charity to all who dissent from it out
of a principle of conscience; the freedom of which, he thinketh, ought
to be fully allowed, as long as it is not abused, but never trusted with
power. He is ready to defend with his life and fortune the Protestant
succession, and the Protestant established faith, against all invaders
whatsoever. He is for giving the Crown its just prerogative, and the
people their just liberties. He hateth no man for differing from him in
political opinions; nor doth he think it a maxim infallible, that virtue
should always attend upon favour, and vice upon disgrace. These are some
few lineaments in the character of a truly moderate man; let us now
compare it with the description of one who usually passeth under that
title.

A moderate man, in the new meaning of the word, is one to whom all
religion is indifferent; who although he denominates himself of the
Church, regardeth it no more than a conventicle. He perpetually raileth
at the body of the clergy, with exceptions only to a very few, who, he
hopeth, and probably upon false grounds, are as ready to betray their
rights and properties as himself. He thinketh the power of the people
can never be too great, nor that of the prince too little; and yet this
very notion he publisheth, as his best argument, to prove him a most
loyal subject. Every opinion in government, that differeth in the least
from his, tendeth directly to Popery, slavery, and rebellion. Whoever
lieth under the frown of power, can, in his judgment, neither have
common sense, common honesty, nor religion. Lastly, his devotion
consisteth in drinking gibbets, confusion, and damnation[1]; in
profanely idolizing the memory of one dead prince,[2] and ungratefully
trampling upon the ashes of another.[3]

[Footnote 1: The subject of these political toasts was the theme of much
discussion in Ireland. [S.]]

[Footnote 2: King William.]

[Footnote 3: Queen Anne.]

By these marks you will easily distinguish a truly moderate man from
those who are commonly, but very falsely, so called; and while persons
thus qualified are so numerous and so noisy, so full of zeal and
industry to gain proselytes, and spread their opinions among the people,
it cannot be wondered at that there should be so little brotherly love
left among us.

_Lastly_: It would probably contribute to restore some degree of
brotherly love, if we would but consider, that the matter of those
disputes, which inflame us to this degree, doth not, in its own nature,
at all concern the generality of mankind. Indeed as to those who have
been great gainers or losers by the changes of the world, the case is
different; and to preach moderation to the first, and patience to the
last, would perhaps be to little purpose: But what is that to the bulk
of the people, who are not properly concerned in the quarrel, although
evil instruments have drawn them into it? For, if the reasonable men on
both sides were to confer opinions, they would find neither religion,
loyalty, nor interest, are at all affected in this dispute. Not
religion, because the members of the Church, on both sides, profess to
agree in every article: Not loyalty to our prince, which is pretended to
by one party as much as the other, and therefore can be no subject for
debate: Not interest, for trade and industry lie open to all; and, what
is further, concerns only those who have expectations from the public:
So that the body of the people, if they knew their own good, might yet
live amicably together, and leave their betters to quarrel among
themselves, who might also probably soon come to a better temper, if
they were less seconded and supported by the poor deluded multitude.

I have now done with my text, which I confess to have treated in a
manner more suited to the present times, than to the nature of the
subject in general. That I have not been more particular in explaining
the several parts and properties of this great duty of brotherly love,
the apostle to the Thessalonians will plead my excuse.--"Touching
brotherly love" (saith he) "ye need not that I write unto you, for ye
yourselves are taught of God to love one another[4]." So that nothing
remains to add, but our prayers to God, that he would please to restore
and continue this duty of brotherly love or charity among us, the very
bond of peace and of all virtues.

[Footnote 4: 1 Thess. iv. 9.]

_Nov._ 29, 1717.





THE DIFFICULTY OF KNOWING ONE'S-SELF.[1]

[Footnote 1: Prefixed to the issue in volume ten, "Miscellanies," 1745,
is the following:

"ADVERTISEMENT.

"The manuscript title page of the following sermon being lost, and no
memorandum writ upon it, as there were upon the others, when and where
it was preached, made the editor doubtful whether he should print it as
the Dean's, or not. But its being found amongst the same papers; and the
hand, though writ somewhat better, bearing a great similitude to the
Dean's, made him willing to lay it before the public, that they might
judge whether the style and manner also does not render it still more
probable to be his." [T.S.]]


2 KINGS, VIII. PART OF THE 13TH VERSE.

"And Hazael said, But what, is thy servant a dog, that he should do this
great thing?"


We have a very singular instance of the deceitfulness of the heart,
represented to us in the person of Hazael; who was sent to the prophet
Elisha, to enquire of the Lord concerning his master the King of Syria's
recovery. For the man of God, having told him that the king might
recover from the disorder he was then labouring under, begun to set and
fasten his countenance upon him of a sudden, and to break out into the
most violent expressions of sorrow, and a deep concern for it;
whereupon, when Hazael, full of shame and confusion, asked, "Why weepeth
my lord?" he answered, "Because I know all the evil that thou wilt do
unto the children of Israel; their strongholds wilt thou set on fire,
and their young men wilt thou slay with the sword, and wilt dash their
children, and rip up their women with child." Thus much did the man of
God say and know of him, by a light darted into his mind from heaven.
But Hazael not knowing himself so well as the other did, was startled
and amazed at the relation, and would not believe it possible that a man
of his temper could ever run out into such enormous instances of cruelty
and inhumanity. "What!" says he, "is thy servant a dog, that he should
do this great thing?"

And yet, for all this, it is highly probable that he was then that man
he could not imagine himself to be; for we find him, on the very next
day after his return, in a very treacherous and disloyal manner
murdering his own master, and usurping his kingdom; which was but a
prologue to the sad tragedy which he afterwards acted upon the people of
Israel.

And now the case is but very little better with most men, than it was
with Hazael; however it comes to pass, they are wonderfully unacquainted
with their own temper and disposition, and know very little of what
passes within them: For of so many proud, ambitious, revengeful,
envying, and ill-natured persons, that are in the world, where is there
one of them, who, although he has all the symptoms of the vice appearing
upon every occasion, can look with such an impartial eye upon himself,
as to believe that the imputation thrown upon him is not altogether
groundless and unfair? Who, if he were told by men of a discerning
spirit and a strong conjecture, of all the evil and absurd things which
that false heart of his would at one time or other betray him into,
would not believe as little, and wonder as much, as Hazael did before
him? Thus, for instance; tell an angry person that he is weak and
impotent, and of no consistency of mind; tell him, that such or such a
little accident, which he may then despise and think much below a
passion, shall hereafter make him say and do several absurd, indiscreet,
and misbecoming things: He may perhaps own that he has a spirit of
resentment within him, that will not let him be imposed on, but he
fondly imagines that he can lay a becoming restraint upon it when he
pleases, although 'tis ever running away with him into some indecency or
other.

Therefore, to bring the words of my text to our present occasion, I
shall endeavour, in a further prosecution of them, to evince the great
necessity of a nice and curious inspection into the several recesses of
the heart, being the surest and the shortest method that a wicked man
can take to reform himself: For let us but stop the fountain, and the
streams will spend and waste themselves away in a very little time; but
if we go about, like children, to raise a bank, and to stop the current,
not taking notice all the while of the spring which continually feeds
it, when the next flood of temptation rises, and breaks in upon it, then
we shall find that we have begun at the wrong end of our duty, and that
we are very little more the better for it, than if we had sat still, and
made no advances at all.

But, in order to a clearer explanation of the point, I shall speak to
these following particulars:--

_First_: By endeavouring to prove, from particular instances, that man
is generally the most ignorant creature in the world of himself.

_Secondly_: By inquiring into the grounds and reasons of his ignorance.

_Thirdly_ and _Lastly_: By proposing several advantages that do most
assuredly attend a due improvement in the knowledge of ourselves.


_First_, then: To prove that man is generally the most ignorant creature
in the world, of himself.

To pursue the heart of man through all the instances of life, in all its
several windings and turnings, and under that infinite variety of shapes
and appearances which it puts on, would be a difficult and almost
impossible undertaking; so that I shall confine myself to such as have a
nearer reference to the present occasion, and do, upon a closer view,
shew themselves through the whole business of repentance. For we all
know what it is to repent, but whether he repents him truly of his sins
or not, who can know it?

Now the great duty of repentance is chiefly made up of these two parts,
a hearty sorrow for the follies and miscarriages of the time past, and a
full purpose and resolution of amendment for the time to come. And now,
to shew the falseness of the heart in both these parts of repentance,
And

_First_: As to a hearty sorrow for the sins and miscarriages of the time
past. Is there a more usual thing than for a man to impose upon himself,
by putting on a grave and demure countenance, by casting a severe look
into his past conduct, and making some few pious and devout reflections
upon it, and then to believe that he has repented to an excellent
purpose, without ever letting it step forth into practice, and shew
itself in a holy conversation? Nay, some persons do carry the deceit a
little higher; who if they can but bring themselves to weep for their
sins, they are then full of an ill-grounded confidence and security;
never considering that all this may prove to be no more than the very
garb and outward dress of a contrite heart, which another heart, as hard
as the nether millstone, may as well put on. For tears and sighs,
however in some persons they may be decent and commendable expressions
of a godly sorrow, are neither necessary, nor infallible signs of a true
and unfeigned repentance. Not necessary, because sometimes, and in some
persons, the inward grief and anguish of the mind may be too big to be
expressed by so little a thing as a tear, and then it turneth its edge
inward upon the mind; and like those wounds of the body which bleed
inwardly, generally proves the most fatal and dangerous to the whole
body of sin: Not infallible, because a very small portion of sorrow may
make some tender dispositions melt, and break out into tears; or a man
may perhaps weep at parting with his sins, as he would bid the last
farewell to an old friend.

But there is still a more pleasant cheat in this affair, that when we
find a deadness, and a strange kind of unaptness and indisposition to
all impressions of religion, and that we cannot be as truly sorry for
our sins as we should be, we then pretend to be sorry that we are not
more sorry for them; which is not more absurd and irrational, than that
a man should pretend to be very angry at a thing, because he did not
know how to be angry at all.

But after all, what is wanting in this part of repentance, we expect to
make up in the next; and to that purpose we put on a resolution of
amendment, which we take to be as firm as a house built upon a rock; so
that let the floods arise, and the winds blow, and the streams beat
vehemently upon it, nothing shall shake it into ruin or disorder. We
doubt not, upon the strength of this resolve, to stand fast and unmoved
amid the storm of a temptation; and do firmly believe, at the time we
make it, that nothing in the world will ever be able to make us commit
those sins over again, which we have so firmly resolved against.

Thus many a time have we come to the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper,
with a full purpose of amendment, and with as full a persuasion of
putting that same purpose into practice; and yet have we not all as
often broke that good purpose, and falsified that same persuasion, by
starting aside, like a broken bow, into those very sins, which we then
so solemnly and so confidently declared against?

Whereas had but any other person entered with us into a vow so solemn,
that he had taken the Holy Sacrament upon it, I believe had he but once
deceived us by breaking in upon the vow, we should hardly ever after be
prevailed upon to trust that man again, though we still continue to
trust our own fears, against reason and against experience.

This indeed is a dangerous deceit enough, and will of course betray all
those well-meaning persons into sin and folly, who are apt to take
religion for a much easier thing than it is. But this is not the only
mistake we are apt to run into; we do not only think sometimes that we
can do more than we can do, but sometimes that we are incapable of doing
less; an error of another kind indeed, but not less dangerous, arising
from a diffidence and false humility. For how much a wicked man can do
in the business of religion, if he would but do his best, is very often
more than he can tell.

Thus nothing is more common than to see a wicked man running headlong
into sin and folly, against his reason, against his religion, and
against his God. Tell him, that what he is going to do will be an
infinite disparagement to his understanding, which, at another time, he
sets no small value upon; tell him that it will blacken his reputation,
which he had rather die for than lose; tell him that the pleasure of sin
is short and transient, and leaves a vexatious kind of sting behind it,
which will very hardly be drawn forth; tell him that this is one of
those things for which God will most surely bring him to judgment, which
he pretends to believe with a full assurance and persuasion: And yet for
all this, he shuts his eyes against all conviction, and rusheth into the
sin like a horse into battle; as if he had nothing left to do, but, like
a silly child to wink hard, and to think to escape a certain and
infinite mischief, only by endeavouring not to see it.

And now to shew that the heart has given in a false report of the
temptation, we may learn from this, that the same weak man would resist
and master the same powerful temptation, upon considerations of
infinitely less value than those which religion offers, nay such vile
considerations, that the grace of God cannot without blasphemy be
supposed to add any manner of force and efficacy to them. Thus for
instance, it would be a hard matter to dress up a sin in such soft and
tempting circumstances, that a truly covetous man would not resist for a
considerable sum of money; when neither the hopes of heaven nor the
fears of hell could make an impression upon him before. But can anything
be a surer indication of the deceitfulness of the heart, than thus to
shew more courage, resolution, and activity, in an ill cause, than it
does in a good one? And to exert itself to better purpose, when it is to
serve its own pride, or lust, or revenge, or any other passion, than
when it is to serve God upon motives of the Gospel, and upon all the
arguments that have ever been made use of to bring men over to religion
and a good life? And thus having shewn that man is wonderfully apt to
deceive and impose upon himself, in passing through the several stages
of that great duty, repentance, I proceed now, in the

_Second place_: To inquire into the grounds and reasons of this
ignorance, _and to shew whence it comes to pass that man, the only
creature in the world that can reflect and look into himself, should
know so little of what passes within him, and be so very much
unacquainted even with the standing dispositions and complexion of his
own heart_. The prime reason of it is, because we so very seldom
converse with ourselves, and take so little notice of what passes within
us: For a man can no more know his own heart than he can know his own
face, any other way than by reflection: He may as well tell over every
feature of the smaller portions of his face without the help of a
looking-glass, as he can tell all the inward bents and tendencies of his
soul, those standing features and lineaments of the inward man, and know
all the various changes that this is liable to from custom, from
passion, and from opinion, without a very frequent use of looking within
himself.

For our passions and inclinations are not always upon the wing, and
always moving toward their respective objects, but retire now and then
into the more dark and hidden recesses of the heart, where they lie
concealed for a while, until a fresh occasion calls them forth again: So
that not every transient, oblique glance upon the mind can bring a man
into a thorough knowledge of all its strength and weaknesses; for a man
may sometimes turn the eye of the mind inward upon itself, as he may
behold his natural face in a glass, and go away, "and straight forget
what manner of man he was." But a man must rather sit down and unravel
every action of the past day into all its circumstances and
particularities, and observe how every little thing moved and affected
him, and what manner of impression it made upon his heart; this done
with that frequency and carefulness which the importance of the duty
does require, would in a short time bring him into a nearer and more
intimate acquaintance with himself.

But when men instead of this do pass away months and years in a perfect
slumber of the mind, without once awaking it, it is no wonder they
should be so very ignorant of themselves, and know very little more of
what passes within them than the very beasts which perish. But here it
may not be amiss to inquire into the reasons why most men have so little
conversation with themselves.

And, _first:_  Because this reflection is a work and labour of the mind,
and cannot be performed without some pain and difficulty: For, before a
man can reflect upon himself, and look into his heart with a steady eye,
he must contract his sight, and collect all his scattering and roving
thoughts into some order and compass, that he may be able to take a
clear and distinct view of them; he must retire from the world for a
while, and be unattentive to all impressions of sense; and how hard and
painful a thing must it needs be to a man of passion and infirmity, amid
such a crowd of objects that are continually striking upon the sense,
and soliciting the affections, not to be moved and interrupted by one or
other of them. But,

_Secondly:_ Another reason why we so seldom converse with ourselves, is,
because the business of the world takes up all our time, and leaveth us
no portion of it to spend upon this great work and labour of the mind.
Thus twelve or fourteen years pass away before we can well discern good
from evil; and of the rest so much goes away in sleep, so much in the
proper business of our calling, that we have none to lay out upon the
more serious and religious employments. Every man's life is an imperfect
sort of a circle, which he repeats and runs over every day; he has a set
of thoughts, desires, and inclinations, which return upon him in their
proper time and order, and will very hardly be laid aside, to make room
for anything new and uncommon: So that call upon him when you please, to
set about the study of his own heart, and you are sure to find him
pre-engaged; either he has some business to do, or some diversion to
take, some acquaintance that he must visit, or some company that he must
entertain, or some cross accident has put him out of humour, and
unfitted him for such a grave employment. And thus it cometh to pass
that a man can never find leisure to look into himself, because he does
not set apart some portion of the day for that very purpose, but
foolishly defers it from one day to another, till his glass is almost
run out, and he is called to give a miserable account of himself in the
other world. But,

_Thirdly_, Another reason why a man does not more frequently converse
with himself, is, because such conversation with his own heart may
discover some vice or some infirmity lurking within him, which he is
very unwilling to believe himself guilty of. For can there be a more
ungrateful thing to a man, than to find that upon a nearer view he is
not that person he took himself to be? That he had neither the courage,
nor the honesty, nor the piety, nor the humility that he dreamed he had?
That a very little pain, for instance, putteth him out of patience, and
as little pleasure softens and disarms him into ease and wantonness?
That he has been at more pains, and labour, and cost, to be revenged of
an enemy, than to oblige the best friend he has in the world? That he
cannot bring himself to say his prayers, without a great deal of
reluctancy; and when he does say them, the spirit and fervour of
devotion evaporate in a very short time, and he can scarcely hold out a
prayer of ten lines, without a number of idle and impertinent, if not
vain and wicked thoughts coming into his head? These are very unwelcome
discoveries that a man may make of himself; so that 'tis no wonder that
every one who is already flushed with a good opinion of himself, should
rather study how to run away from it, than how to converse with his own
heart.

But further, if a man were both able and willing to retire into his own
heart, and to set apart some portion of the day for that very purpose;
yet he is still disabled from passing a fair and impartial judgment upon
himself, by several difficulties, arising partly from prejudice and
prepossession, partly from the lower appetites and inclinations. And,