Sermon – Civil War – 1861


William Rounseville Alger (1822-1905) preached this sermon in 1861 on the Civil War.


sermon-civil-war-1861-1

OUR CIVIL WAR, AS SEEN FROM THE PULPIT:

A

SERMON

 

PREACHED IN THE BULFINCH-STREET CHURCH,

April 28, 1861.

BY

WILLIAM R. ALGER.

SERMON.

Isa. Ii. 3: “COME, LET US GO UP TO THE HOUSE OF GOD, AND HE WILL TEACH US.”

Many ministers think it best in their sermons to pass by the outer convulsions of the hour, without notice. “These agitating topics,” they say, “excite the people all the week. Newspaper, shop, street, parlor, each avenue of society, every crevice of the world, are filled with their vexing buzz and fever from Monday morning till Saturday night. When Sunday dawns, and to the notes of holy bells we gather in the sanctuary, for God’s sake let there be a truce to the harass of temporal themes and conflicts. Let us, in the sweet communion of Heaven, enjoy a respite from the harsh jars of the earth. Here we will forget the strife and turmoil that have lacerated and wearied us, and busy ourselves only with penitence and worship, with the great realities of faith and sanctification, wooing down to our jaded bosoms celestial hopes and peace.”

This strain of thought is so plausible to reason, so congenial to the pious sentiments of the soul hungering for something better than the material issues of the moment, that I do not wonder it is so often acted on, and even set forth as the only justifiable course for a Christian preacher. Yet, if taken without qualification, there is a large infusion of sophistry in it. In the first place, it is, to a great extent, vain to try to do this, however desirable it be in itself. The uppermost questions of the time are not so easily dismissed on crossing the threshold of a church. The profound excitements that upheave a community, the startling events of disaster or triumph that thrill every member of a society, the appalling or magnificent emergencies that suddenly confront a people, setting every passion on fire and every thought a-vibrating, will not drop out of sight because the bell has tolled, nor cease to urge their importunate claims because yon preacher is arguing the inspiration of the Book of Jonah, or defending the metaphysics of the Westminster Catechism. They will be thought of, in spite of all attempts to banish them. Who, that has a heart to feel and a mind to reflect, can forget the portentous tidings with which these hours are teeming, the storm of revolution bursting around the Capitol, the alarming throes of the country,—all he holds dear, as scholar, patriot, and philanthropist, staked on the result? The sensitive moral ligaments that connect the individual with the body politic are too numerous and powerful to admit of it. The other day, I saw a little bird perched on the telegraph-wire that stretched away towards Washington, gaily chirping there, unconscious of the momentous messages shooting under him. “Ah! Happy creature,” thought I, “well may you toss your careless notes to the sky. You little dream what fearful throbs, in the bosoms of this swaying crowd below, answer the magnetic shocks of intelligence that fly along the line on which you poise in ignorant and blissful innocence. You know not that confederate traitors are striving to tear down and scatter on this Western strand the fairest nest of freedom and happiness humanity has yet built on the bleak earth.” That guiltless warbler’s little life is no type of ours. Our intense, widely ramifying knowledge and sympathy, set in quick connection with all the forces and events of time and nature, compel us to think with the most earnest tenacity on the most pressing interests and problems of our life. Therefore, if the preacher would not speak to the unheeding air, he must in some degree forsake technical abstractions, and treat those living issues of the time which are absorbing the attention of his hearers.

Furthermore, why should we wish to avoid this course? Is it not right that we should take the great affairs of life up to a higher range than that of our average moods, and there interpret them, and seek to guide them in the light of the most exalted considerations? Is it not the best thing we can do, to bring the severe exigencies of life with us into the church, and survey them from the high, calm vantage-ground of the altar of prayer? To do otherwise is to ostracize the largest portions of experience from the sanctuary as profane, and make religion a formal thing, quite apart from the living work of the world. However some may say, “We undertake solely to expound the Bible and to preach Christ crucified,” I am compelled to take my stand with those who think that the Crucifixion and the Scripture are not ends to be contemplated for themselves, but means to a practical good beyond,—that to inspire mankind with the spirit of self-sacrificing love, this to lead them to rectify their conduct by the lines of righteousness and piety: so that the preacher best fulfils the functions of his office when he most effectually urges his hearers to follow the teaching and example of Christ in their daily lives, forming their characters and guiding their actions by the principles of a sound morality and the sentiments of a pure religion. The preaching that sets forth an abstruse theory of the atonement, generally passes for nothing: the preaching that tries to show how we can harmonize our tempted lies with the law of God, naturally bears fruit. Who cares at this moment to know how many wheels the chariot of Pharaoh had when it sank in the Red Sea? He who can tell us how best to gird up our loins for a cheerful support of present cares, and a hearty discharge of the morrow’s duties, speaks to the real wants of the time and to the responsive hearts of men. To occupy such moments as these in describing the hypothetic details of the Israelitish march out of Egypt and through the dry bed of the deep is work fit only for a fossil preacher. The topic that summons ministers who sympathize with their people, and look ahead, is, How shall we safely carry our blessings and hopes through that Red Sea of battle whose first bloody spray already sprinkles the skirts of our country?

You will, ere this, have anticipated the subject of my discourse: Our Civil War, AS SEEN FROM THE PULPIT. The dire catastrophe of domestic struggle impending over our land agitates every breast, calls forth the anxious speculations of every mind. Through the lifelong week, it is looked at in every material aspect from the various stand-points of the world,—the counting-room of the merchant, the camp of the soldier, the council-chamber of the ruler, the public hall and street where the eager crowd interchange their views. Self-interest fumes with indignation, or droops in fear; loyalty grasps its good blade, and vows, wherever the flag waves, to defend it, or die; the leaders construct their plan of operations; every group of talkers represents some who are pale with grief and foreboding, others who are hissing-hot with passion. Under these circumstances, is it not well to go up into the house of God, and survey the ominous subject from the position of Christian principle and sentiment? Do we not need to lift the all-engrossing theme out of the secular vortex of pecuniary interests and partisan prejudices into the holy quietude of Sunday and the church, and there study it in the light of morality and religion to find what our duties really are? I am not willing to abandon such momentous concerns utterly to the worldly instincts and policies of men. I claim them as lying within the jurisdiction of that moral order which expresses the Divine Will, of whose requirements and sovereign authority the preacher is the instituted expounder. Come, therefore,—now that a fratricidal struggle lowers in front, ready to break in all its horror,—“let us go up to the house of God, and ask him to teach us.”

The first word our civil war, as seen from the pulpit, should force from us, is a protest against the intrinsic brutality, folly, and crime of this mode of settling controversies. It is a relic of barbarous ages, which we ought to have outgrown long ago, and every recurrence of which is a ghastly satire on our boasted civilization. Look at it dispassionately for a moment. Two States quarrel. What out to follow? Why, forbearance, mutual conciliation of prejudices, common adjustment of claims at the bar of moral truth and right as declared by competent expounders. This would peacefully settle every difficulty, and prove, that, in the long-run, the welfare of each is subserved by the rights and interests of all. Instead of acting thus, to rush to arms in frenzied haste and hate, lay harmless villages in ashes, tear thousands of innocent persons in pieces with infernal implements of slaughter, fill the land with wailing widows and orphans, and at last decide the dispute by the unhallowed rule of might, is conduct unworthy of cultivated men,—conduct which Christian thinkers cannot exult in, but must rather weep at. War is a discord in the music of humanity, a clash in the machinery of society, the accompaniment of a fearfully imperfect civilization; not in any form an exemplification of the will of God, but the horrid work of wicked men; to be profoundly lamented, avoided whenever it consistently can be, utterly left behind as soon as possible. The natural influence of each fresh outbreak of it is to blight the industry and bankrupt the resources of a country, and to inflame and give a new lease of power to that combative spirit which is from beneath. Now, as ever,—nay, more than ever,—it becomes the preacher to give emphasis to the fact, that war is not a glorious opportunity, to be coveted and to feel proud of, but a tremendous evil, which good men can accept only in stern sadness, as a necessity forced on them by the savage passions of a sinful age. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you;” “Love your enemies;” “Resist not evil,”—are expressions of the perfect law of society towards which we must aim. To conform unhesitatingly to that law, in the present state of men and things, is impossible, would be self-destructive. Yet we must not forget that that is the absolute standard of duty, and that every thing opposed to it, or short of it, is a temporary concession to imperfection and crime, which we ought to regret, and strive as speedily as possible to outgrow. We study the pure laws of mechanics, the fixed truths of theoretic science, although they cannot be reduced to practice without large allowances on account of atmospheric pressure and cohesive abrasion. Neither should we overlook the pure laws of morality, and forswear our ultimate allegiance to them, because they must sometimes be partially broken in the shocks and attritions of the present perverse and incomplete state of mankind.

In the swallowing flood and tempest of patriotic fervor surging through the popular breast at a time like this, moral boundaries and lights, which ought ever to be firmly perceived and adhered to, are very apt to be blotted out by the swash of emotional sophistry. For instance: it is said, “To go to the conflict, and to cut down the foe without mercy, is a religious duty.” I think this is putting the matter on a false ground, confounding things wholly distinct. I say, to fight down this infamous rebellion is not religion in any sense at all, but is a civil obligation, a social necessity rising superior to every thing else, and, for the time being, putting religion into abeyance. Religion is purity, prayer, and peace; to subject the passions to the conscience; to be meek and pious; to forgive injuries; to love our neighbors as ourselves, and God with all the heart. War is, to let loose the destructive elements of our nature, to brook no insult, to suppress opposition, to burn and kill. Now, this is to be justified, not by baptizing it with the abused name of Religion, but by recognizing it as one of those emergencies in the career of a nation, where the supreme instinct of self-preservation asserts itself unto the temporary subordination of every other authority. Morality is the system of usages rightfully administering the life of a nation. Religion is the loving and reverential spirit rightfully animating those usages, and giving them celestial emphasis and direction. War is neither the rightful rule nor the rightful spirit of a nation’s life, but the instinctive resource of a nation in self-defence when its life is threatened; its re-actionary self-vindication when its material existence, the government, or its spiritual vitality, the public honor, is assailed. Obviously, on the inevitable ground of instinct, life itself must take precedence both of its formal rules, or morality, and of its flowering spirit, or religion. The genuine justification of our military attitude and work in this crisis rests on the basis of civil obligation and social necessity, not on the basis of ethical right and religious duty. You might as well say it is a spiritual duty to eat and drink; whereas the truth is, that eating and drinking are instinctive acts called forth by the approaches of hunger and thirst towards the citadel of our existence. When you must fight, for life, justice, or freedom, do it with a will; but leave the serene sanctities of religion celestially enthroned,—their loving service to be returned to at the earliest moment. Do not profanely drag them down, and identify your fighting with them.

War, then, let it be repeated, is a violation of the precepts of pure Christianity; the horrible scourge that follows injustice and pride. Christ, who was the Prince of Peace, said, “Put up your sword; my kingdom is not of this world:” “Do good unto them that hate you:” “If a man smite you on one cheek, turn the other:” “If your enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst give him drink.” How any minister of his can deliberately stand in the sacred desk, and hail civil war with gladness, gloat over it, and jubilantly hound his people on to the fray, passes my comprehension. I can only feel justified in saying, Since this dread calamity has been forced upon us, sorrowfully and solemnly let us accept it; trusting that God will overrule the evil to some great good, and sternly determined never to retreat an inch nor yield a tittle until the right is vindicated, and impartial freedom set on high.

Having protested against the evil of martial strife, and accepted it only as inevitable compromise with the pressures and frictions of selfish ambition for keeping the rightful framework of the Government in legitimate action, the second word needing to be said, when we look at our civil war from the pulpit, is, Let a careful guard be kept over the lower passions which such a crisis naturally evokes and stimulates. Let not reckless wrath and desire be permitted to preside over the utterances and doings of the exasperated hour, but see that reason and conscience are maintained in their proper seats of authority. The true patriot loves his country, not as a bear loves his den, but as a poet loves beauty, as a philosopher loves truth, as a saint loves his God. No matter what provocations are furnished, the animal thirst for vengeance must be kept down, if we would show ourselves worthy of our professions as members of a Christian community. Men of cultivated minds, men educated in morals, bridle and subdue those base impulses of hate and retaliation which are still organic in the wild blood inherited from the primitive epochs of humanity. They have learned to forbear and to forgive. They are capable of magnanimity. Above all, they practice accurate discrimination; striking for justice, but not pursuing revenge. Passion is inherently diffusive and indiscriminating. Its ravenous madness devours all barriers, overspreads all boundaries, would lave and infuse the universe with itself. It belongs to ethical reason—that is, conscience—to observe distinctions; to draw accurate lines, and abide by them. Consequently, at this moment, when an unparalleled excitement pervades the pervades the public mind, and fire courses through the veins of the national organism, it behooves the pulpit to stand calm and firm, like a column of the Lord, to stay a little the fury of the torrent, not lend it added impulse, while the Christian preacher cries to the unloosed passions of men, “Beware of excess, beware of error; distinguish self-indulgence from duty; be careful to do nothing but what is right.” In a time like the present, to refrain from rash judgments, to admit no evil exaggeration, but only to feel and act just as a high-minded, moral, and religious man is justified in feeling and acting, is no slight task. All the more should we watch our impulses, and rule them by correct principles. Are you tempted to say, as I heard a man say in his boundless indignation, “Baltimore ought to be shelled till every house is in ashes, to avenge the insult it has offered the country; and then its whole territory should be sown with salt, as a warning for the future”? Pause, and think what it is to shell a city of two hundred and twenty-five thousand inhabitants, two-thirds of whom are women and children, and with fire and sword blot out their homes for ever. You will quickly retreat and repent your hasty ebullition; as, indeed, you would never have done anything of the sort, had it been left to your decision. You will say, “Let twenty federal regiments march through Baltimore, harming no person who behaves himself, but instantly shooting dead every man who offers overt opposition to their passage. That will be quite enough.” But there is an inconsiderateness, a cruelty, in these sweeping speeches, very pernicious even when they are merely speeches. Say not, “The South ought to be wiped from the face of the earth.” Cool down the generous passion that is flaming so much too high, and soberly look at the facts. The millions of the South are members of the one human family of God, with the same faculties, rights, affections, hopes, and fears as ourselves. They are our own countrymen, individually linked to us by the dearest ties of love and blood, and bound up in one destiny with us. Not one in twenty of their entire number is in the least degree directly responsible for the outrages that have sprung this immense exigency upon us. Pampered with indulgence and vanity by the unfortunate nature of their inherited and fostered institutions; shut up in a proud ignorance by their isolated plantation-life, without any of that organized instantaneously diffusing intelligence which snows books and newspapers on our free cities and hamlets; at the mercy of the unprincipled demagogues who flatter and deceive and provoke them with monstrous compliments for themselves, and more monstrous slanders against the rest of the country; deludedly cherishing the deadly cancer and virus of slavery, as if it were the heart of their body politic; honestly thinking, that to gratify and feed fat their haughty lust and sloth at the expense of a downtrodden and helpless race of inferiors is to exhibit the highest style of civilization yet attained on earth; unsuspiciously believing that one half of the North and West are set with diabolical energy of malice on destroying their patriarchal fulfillment of the precepts of the Bible, the other half ready at any instant to fight unto the death to prevent the departure of this abolitionist crusade against the Southern paradise,—seeing these facts, we cannot but recognize large excuses for them, and feel more sorrowful than revengeful. We cannot honorably nourish ferocious sentiments towards them, however copiously their colossal Sin causes them to nourish such sentiments towards us. We cannot, with a spark of Christianity in our hearts, cry “havoc!” for a war of extermination on them. We must, it is true, oppose the most uncompromising resistance to their insolent pretensions, and rally in overwhelming power for the everlasting suppression of their criminal designs. But, while doing this, let not the spirit of hatred and vengeance run riot. Let us commiserate their general ignorance and domestic peril, correct their errors, sympathize with their misfortunes, pity their infatuation, exercise towards them the utmost forbearance that is reconcilable with the honor and safety of the Government, and that squares with the claims of moral law.

And now, contemplating still further our civil war as seen from the pulpit, it is particularly timely to utter one word more of caution; and that is, Let there be among us no illegal manifestations of antipathy towards individuals whose sympathies run counter to the common tide. Every good citizen, every true patriot, every Christian man, every person of high-toned independence and sympathetic catholicity, should sternly frown on every attempt, on whatever pretext made, at a violent interference with the most unrestricted exercise of his civil rights by any member of the community. The mobocratic spirit is the deadliest enemy of republican institutions; the most ruinous and fatal element that can gain admission into a city or a state. It has been allowed altogether too frequent and too large an entrance in many parts of America. Good men, just and true men, who respect the law, who love their country, and pray for her peace and welfare, should spare no pains to prevent the sufferance of a mob, on any excuse whatever; to put down, and punish remorsely, every overt instance of the riotous disposition. There is no permanent safety else. Permit a mob of gentlemen, in violation of law, genteelly to put down what they dislike to-day, to-morrow a mob of ruffians may reverse the tables, and, in violation of law, more harshly suppress what they dislike. Invoke public odium now against a despised minority whom you hate, saying to Judge Lynch and his myrmidons, “at them!” and a little later some epidemic revolution of public feeling, giving them the popular support, may place you among the hated few, and the coercing crowd whom you taught the evil lesson will tear your house down and mutilate your body in the streets. A mob and its anarchical rule should never be tolerated in a free country like ours. It is fraught with the direst retribution, sure to burst at last. Look at Baltimore,—given over to bullies for weeks, made despicable in the eyes of the earth, every peaceful avocation paralyzed, shuddering with terror at herself, her best citizens fleeing every way in dismay. Twenty-five years ago, had a shower of bullets been promptly planted in the skulls of three or four hundred of the “Roughs” of that notorious locality, the woeful spectacle of today would have been spared.

New England, perhaps, has seen fewer and slighter manifestations of this lawless and tyrannical spirit than most other parts of the country. God grant that she may see still less of it in the future! Especially in a crisis like the present, when the provocatives to it are often so aggravating, let us scrupulously guard against its outbreaks. We take up arms in the sacred name of Law, against rebels who repudiate their oaths and trample Law under foot. We complain of the slave-power, that it is accustomed to mob unprotected strangers and odious citizens. Let us not imitate what we have condemned, and dishonor our position and watchword by a bitter intolerance of dissent from our views, by petty persecutions of helpless individuals. If a newspaper aids and comforts treason, do not stone its office; do not compel its affrighted editor hypocritically to wave from his window the flag to which he did not spontaneously cling. Simply take your names from its subscription-list, and leave its recreant publisher to the condign contempt of the public, and the infamy that waits in the verdict of history. That is enough. In the name of moral decency, touch him not. Your blood may burn at hearing a man express his sympathy for traitors, his adhesion to slavery and subserviency, his murderous hostility to his own Government; but let a wall of magnanimous scorn protect him. He stands almost alone, a malignant alien, amidst millions of glowing patriots. Harm not a hair of his head. If any glory is to be won in the tyrannizing of maddened multitudes over obnoxious individuals, singled out in their estrangement and helplessness, let it be monopolized by the South, where civilization is nearer on a level with such deeds than it is in Boston,—the example of some very honorable men to the contrary notwithstanding! The law should take care of active traitors; but, for the sake of civil order, honor, our good name, I hope not a finger will be lifted anywhere in New England against the person or property of the talking malecontents, of whom it were no less than a miracle if there were not some among us.

The foregoing points I have dwelt on somewhat at length, because they are in particular danger of being overlooked or forgotten in the rushing flood of patriotic excitement which is carrying us all away. The points remaining to be considered may be treated more briefly, since their conclusions have already been reached by the general mind, and the hearts of people are fully wrought up to the pitch of their requirements. Deploring the vast evil of war, but accepting it as a necessity under the conditions; resolving to fight, not in hate, to wreak vengeance on our foes, but in a sentiment of obligation, to uphold the national life; taking as a motto, “The inviolable supremacy of law and order,” and setting our faces against every form and instance of mob-rule,—what next is our duty, as it appears when looked at from the pulpit?

Certain of the justice of our cause, we must rally around the Government in loving allegiance, and face the onset with invincible will. We have with us, as we advance, the moral truth of the case, the intrinsic strength of the country, the sympathy of civilized man. How can we falter, or entertain a single misgiving? The adversaries against whom we stand arrayed are triply in the wrong,—wrong in the cause they fight for, wrong in their unprovoked commencement of the war, wrong in the unprincipled measures and spirit of their policy. After virtually monopolizing the legislative direction and official patronage of the country for the greater part of fifty years, their party was fairly defeated at the ballot-box, to which they had willingly appealed under a common obligation with us. They instantly refuse to abide the result; swear they will never submit to the rule of their opponents; and fly to arms, determined to establish an oligarchy of their own to perpetuate their darling institution of negro-slavery. Thus they are traitorous rebels at the first start. Then they open the war, in the face of unparalleled forbearance, by defying the Federal authority, breaking its laws, trampling its ensign ignominiously under foot, firing on its unarmed vessels, and taking forcible possession of its exposed fortresses. Finally, having begun their career with gigantic feats of deliberate perjury, theft, and treachery, and followed it up by the establishment of a reign of terror over their own dissenting citizens, they propose, in sublime scorn of the law of nations, to complete it by wholesale piracy. We, on the other hand, are triply fortified in right. We fight for the Constitution and the Flag, the historic position and equal laws our fathers purchased for us at such cost, when our friends were few and our land was feeble. We stand for our whole country against the sectional plotters, who, in their enormous vanity, their mistaken hate, and their fatal infatuation, have precipitated the strife upon us in headlong aggression. We did not, in time of peace, steal from our unsuspecting enemies the money, guns, and powder with which we intended to destroy them as soon as we were in readiness for hostilities. With the money our own industry has earned, with the weapons our own hands have forged, with fair warning given, we frankly take the field to protect the archives, enforce the laws, and maintain the integrity of our country. The sentiment of Christendom levels its chivalrous lances with us against the arrogant allies of despotism and night in this insane insurrection of slavery and conceit against the open ballot-box of the nineteenth century. When we strike, if strike we must, every blow will fall in the interests of morality and civilization, God and universal liberty. How, therefore, can we fail to put a cheerful courage on, unite as one man, be willing to make every needful sacrifice without a murmur, and swear now to put this controversy through to a permanent solution?

If this be really done, the result will amply remunerate the cost. We shall be free then indeed; no longer this ulcer gnawing at the vitals of our political system; no longer this endless agitation and ever-irritating debate between North and South; no longer this dark stain on the star-sprinkled azure of our banner, greeted then with thrills of reverential delight as it dallies with every breeze under heaven. It is time our organic law and public front were made consistent with that proud manifesto of impartial freedom we have so long flaunted in the eyes of the nations; high time our Federal altar were no longer suffered to be a block on which to sell into bondage a wronged and helpless race. And things begin to look as if that consummation were at hand. The three stages of such a prodigious crime as that which the Slave States are blindly seeking to spread and perpetuate are reckless indulgence, judicial madness, overwhelming retribution. The first they have long known; the second has now set in; the third may be approaching. When the excited secessionists of Richmond, a few days since, gathered around their sculptured Washington, and placed a black man astride the solemn image of the Father of his Country, there was a condign significance in the act. They make the keeping of slaves override every thing else. It is time this fanaticism ceased, and our people were left at peace to work out the gradual perfecting of the Republic. This radical evil once extirpated, we should be repaid for all. How would our prosperity mount up, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race! How would the Genius of our country put on her beautiful garments, and arise and shine! Let us, therefore, swear together, that the days of our national slave-holding, the sole cause of our troubles, shall soon be numbered. Then the sundered States now hurled into this crucible of civil war, and soon to be compositely molten down in the fiery struggle, touched by the common memory of Washington, shall fuse into a finer metal than before; from which, moulded by his typical example, shall emerge, when returning peace and union unmask the result, our disenthralled and glorified America, a stupendous statue of Liberty.

One compensation, well-nigh sufficient to balance the evil of this convulsion, and the trouble it has put us to thus far, we already have. I refer to the glorious spectacle of the hour,—the spontaneous unanimity and uprising of our patriotic countrymen from seaboard to prairie. Unable to accept the doctrine that war is a useful safety-valve, a wholesome tonic, a hygeian gale blowing over the corruptions of peace; viewing it rather as an awful generator of bad blood, a destructive discharge of hostile passion creatively re-acting on its own source, a poisonous blast on those social and industrial virtues which most do grow in pacific times,—I should yet be ashamed not to perceive, with a heightened pulse, the indemnifying impetus given to many noble qualities of our nature by the surprising tocsin that in these last weeks has been alarming the quiet air of New England. The phrases about loyalty, the banner, love of country, which were fast becoming vapid and empty, have been suddenly vitalized,—have grown almost explosive with inspiration. The precious privileges, which we had enjoyed so uninterruptedly as to forget their sumless price, throw off their rusty common-places, burnish themselves, and put on value and splendor in our eyes. The grand principles of our higher humanity cease to be verbal formularies, and become electric truths. A little while ago, it seemed sentimental poetry, now it is solid sense and fact, which is embodied in the lines:—

“Brethren there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
‘This is my own, my native land!’
Whose heart hath ne’er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned
From wandering on a foreign strand?”

We were absorbed in money-getting, in office-seeking, in our personal rivalries, cares, and plans. We thought we were a dry, plodding, prosaic tribe. When lo! At the first volley of the criminal cannon around Sumter, the first flap of our insulted flagon the breeze of war, a regenerate people started into heroism and beauty. Women and children contended which should be foremost in the bounding alacrity with which they proffered their services. In the public schools, a little standard hung beside the inkstand on every boy’s desk. From our valleys and hillsides, cities and farms, rich and poor, sprang up a race we had not dreamed of, emulous of sacrifice and danger, capacious of exalted sentiment; while, all the way from the White Hills to the Mississippi River, every heart throbbed with magnanimous emotion, and every tongue cried, ‘Sweet and charming is it to die for one’s country!” And far in the van of this electrifying outburst, this irresistible carnival of enthusiasm, our dear old Massachusetts, again, on the same April day, plucks the earliest laurel, dripping with the blood of her boys, and fondly lays it on her breast. With such a spirit prevailing, success must be as swift as it is sure. Because we do not carry bowie-knives and fight duels, they have fancied us cowards, have they? In the indomitable bearing of our forlorn few, beleaguered in the infamous streets of that unhappy city by thousands of brutal ruffians, let them read an earnest of the unconquerable tenacity with which, in the hour of trial, those regiments will fight, every man of whom, wherever he follows the stars and stripes, carries in his heart the idealized equivalents of Plymouth Rock, Faneuil Hall, and Bunker Hill.

Under the circumstances similar to those so finely described by Campbell, as seen by him off the coast of England, I once saw one of our proud war-ships riding at anchor of a summer afternoon. Behind her, poised on the horizon, shone a gorgeous rainbow, flushing through tackle, shrouds, and stays, wrapping every part of her form with magic fire, steeped in whose dyes the star-spangled banner floated aloft in pre-eminent glory. That rainbow typed the promise of Heaven; that ship and flag, the victorious strength of the American Government, destined to sail the seas in triumph till time shall be no more.’

* Originally Published: Dec. 20, 2016

Sermon – House of Representatives – 1860

Thomas .H. Stockton was born in Mount Holly, New Jersey, June 4th, 1808. In 1833, while stationed at Georgetown, D.C., and when but twenty-five years of age, he was elected Chaplain by the United States House of Representatives. On November 19, 1863 Thomas Stockton delivered a prayer after Edward Everett’s sermon and before President Abraham Lincoln gave his famous Gettysburg Address.


sermon-house-of-representatives-1860-1


 

SERMON FROM THE CAPITOL:
ON
THE IMPERISHABLE AND SAVING WORDS OF CHRIST.
DELIVERED,
IN THE HALL OF THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES,
ON
SABBATH MORNING, MARCH 18, 1860,
BY
T. H. STOCKTON, CHAPLAIN, H. R.
TEXT:
“Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.” Matt. 24:35.
CORRESPONDENCE.
“House of Representatives,
“Washington, March 19, 1860.

“Rev. T. H. Stockton,

“Dear Sir: The undersigned Members of the House would respectfully request a copy of your salutatory Sermon, delivered yesterday in the Hall of the House. We wish it for publication, that its influence may be widely extended by the circulation we shall give to it. If it comport with your inclinations and convenience, a compliance with this request will greatly oblige
“Your friends,
“S.S. COX, G.W. SCRANTON,
JNO. HICKMAN, W. HOWARD,
E. JOY MORRIS, THOMAS B. FLORENCE,
THOS. A. R. NELSON, JNO. G. DAVIS,
A. A. BURNHAM JAS. C. ROBINSON,
JOHN McLEAN, J. W. STEVENSON,
JNO. A. BINGHAM, ROGER A. PRYOR,
ROBERT McKNIGHT, C. L. VALLANDINGHAM,
JAS. B. McKEAN, J. K. MOORHEAD,
E. B. FRENCH, C. B. SEDGWICK,
JOHN HUTCHINS, WM. PENNINGTON.”

Washington, March 22, 1860.

Gentlemen:

Your request was as much a surprise as my election. Humbly trusting, however, that there is a vindicating and progressive Providence in these incidents; and wishing, most devoutly, to be enabled to answer its purposes, I respectfully commit my discourse to your disposal.

As you appropriately intimate, it is a simple salutation: prepared hastily, but not without prayer or care; designed to announce certain main principles, and connect them with suitable reminiscences and exhortations. If, in looking at the manuscript, (containing a few verbal corrections and additions of personal names,) you still deem it likely to do good, I shall be grateful for the use you may make of it.

With all respect, I remain,
Your servant, for Christ’s sake,
T. H. STOCKTON.

Hon. Wm. Pennington, Speaker of the House of Representatives.
Hon. John McLean, Judge of the Supreme Court.
Hon. S. S. Cox; Hon. Jno. Hickman;
Hon. E. Joy Morris; and other Members of the House.

SERMON.
“Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.” Matthew, 24:35.
We need elevation. As men, Americans and Christians, we need elevation. In our persons and families, states and churches, we all need elevation. Properly speaking, it is impossible to desire too great elevation. The woe of the world is the want of a true ambition.

To prevent us from taking unjust advantage of this truth, it is enough to remember the Gospel maxim: “For whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he that humbleth himself shall be exalted.” This maxim both commends the object and directs the pursuit.

And now – see! One day, a young Galilean carpenter, followed by a few lake-shore fishermen, entered the Temple at Jerusalem, as a company of our countrymen, from any rural district, on any day, enters this Capitol. Soon after, as they left the Temple, some of the young man’s friends invited his attention to certain fine ornaments and massive stones, characteristic of the general and incomparable richness and strength of the buildings. But he replied to them: “See ye not all these things! Verily I say unto you, there shall not be left here one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down.”

What did they think of that? What would we think of a rustic visitor, who should leave this Capitol, saying to his companions – and in a manner implying imminency of the event – not one stone of it shall be left upon another!

Strange as it may seem, that Galilean group had no little confidence in their leader; and, therefore, when they had come with him, out from the city, down the hill, over Kedron, and up Olivet, until they reached a suitable position for a wide resurvey of the scene, no sooner was he seated than they drew near to him with the question: “Tell us when shall these things be?” What then? did he withdraw what he had said, or make light of it, or intimate any possibility of mistake? Not at all. Rather, he gave them a prolonged and specific answer; in the course of which, ascending, with infinite ease, to an infinitely sublime assumption, he did not hesitate to declare: “Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away!” It is, as though he had said – There reposes the Holy City; girt about with all the defenses of art and nature; and glittering all over with the concentrate wealth and power and pride of a great nation, during a long succession of royal and priestly ages. There expands, pre-eminently and most impressively, the peerless magnificence of the venerated and impregnable Temple. To you, it seems marvelous that I should predict the destruction of all. But, to me, that olden glory is only as the fading pageant of a summer sunset. Look away from the city, beyond and above it. Behold the mountains round about it! Behold the firmament bending over it! Nay, let your thought exceed your vision. Think of the fullness of heaven and earth: of continents, islands and seas; of sun, moon and stars; of the divine origin, grandeur, perpetuity, and government of all. Think well of these things, and then remember – that my words are mightier and more enduring than all. Not only shall Jerusalem pass away, but heaven and earth shall pass away; and, yet, my feeblest word, the faintest sound of my voice, the gentlest breath from my lips, shall never pass away.

Did they believe him? Yes; and with good reason. They witnessed, to a great extent, the power of his words. Attracted by those words, cities were emptied and deserts filled. At his word, the “common people,” who “heard him gladly,” grew wiser than the wisest of their teachers. At his word, the hierarchs of genius and learning, of law and religion, blushed and trembled, darkening with rage or paling with affright. At his word, his humble disciples were qualified and commissioned to supercede “the wisdom of the world,” and become themselves the apostles of nations and instructors of mankind. At his word, every scene of his presence became a circle of divine enchantment: where deaf men listened, and dumb men spoke, and blind men looked, and lame men leaped, and the paralytic stood still, and the leper was clean, and the maimed made whole, and the withered restored, and the sick revived, and the lunatic calmed, and the demoniac dispossessed, and the dead, just risen from their tombs, exchanged new greetings with the pressing multitudes of the living. True, their faith was sorely tried: chiefly, when their youthful leader expired on the cross. But, he soon rose from the dead, ascended into heaven, and thence “gave gifts unto men.” Thus, their faith was renewed and confirmed, forever. Then they repeated and recorded his words; committing them, in trust, to all nations and ages. In fulfillment of the prediction specially referred to, before that generation passed away the Temple was destroyed and Jerusalem with it; and the people were scattered and their institutions overthrown. The carcass of Judaism lay stretched along the hillside, and from the whole cope of heaven the eagles of Rome hurried to the festival. Since then, the words of that young man have become the law of the world; and miracles, corresponding with those of his transient ministry, have been multiplied on a larger scale and in more enduring relations. At his word, deaf nations have listened; and dumb nations, spoke; and blind nations, looked; and lame nations, leaped; and paralytic nations have been strengthened; and leprous nations, cleansed; and maimed nations, made whole; and withered nations, restored; and sick nations, revived; and lunatic nations, calmed; and demoniac nations, dispossessed; and dead nations brought forth, exultant, from their graves. Even these miracles are “as nothing – less than nothing, and vanity,” in comparison with others which are yet to come: miracles in behalf of all nations, and of our whole race, and of the world itself. And still, with the same easy, natural, infinite sublimity as at first, he assures us all: “Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.”

Now, therefore, rises the all-important question: Do we believe him? We live more than eighteen hundred years after his advent. We live in a new world; unknown to the old, in which he lived, until within less than four hundred years ago. A new soil is under our feet, and a new sky over our heads. We show, on a vast area, free and unembarrassed, the best results of a thousand social revolutions. To us, the most of the old things of the old world have passed away: old governments, old mythologies, old philosophies, old sciences, old arts, and old manners, customs and usages. To us, nearly all things have become new. But, have the old words of that young Nazarene passed away from us? Or, has any new master superseded his authority over us? Not in the slightest degree! His authority is still supreme, and every syllable of his utterance as sure as ever. As it has been, and is, so it always shall be. With gratitude for our history, in vindication of our honor, and in acknowledgment of the true and only source of our power; in due remembrance of our fathers, with due respect for ourselves, and due regard for our children, I here arise, on this highest height of the nation, as a representative, however humble, of our people at large, of every State in the Union, and of the United States in whole, and thus, with lifted hand, repeat our solemn, national affirmation – our official and perpetual proclamation to all mankind – that: HEAVEN AND EARTH SHALL PASS AWAY, BUT THE WORDS OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST SHALL NOT PASS AWAY!

I contemplate the heaven and earth of the old world: the over-rulings of Providence and changes of society there. I think of the passing away of the whole circle of ancient Mediterranean civilization. I think of the dark ages of Europe. I think of the morning of the Reformation, and the fore-gleamings of “the latter-day glory.” I think of Art, and her printing-press; of Commerce, and her compass; of Science, and her globe; of Religion, and her Bible. I contemplate the opening of the heaven and earth of the new world: the over-rulings of Providence and changes of society here. I think of the passing away of savage simplicities, and of the rude semblances of civilization in Mexico and Peru, and of earlier and later declensions. I think of the gracious reservation of our own inheritance for present and nobler occupancy. I think of our Revolution, and its result of Independence. I think of our first Union, first Congress, first prayer in Congress, and first Congressional order for the Bible: and of our wonderful enlargement, development and enrichment since. And, in view of all – of the whole heaven and whole earth of the whole world; and of all changes, social and natural, past, present and future; profoundly and unalterably assured, as I trust we all are, that the truth as it is “in Jesus” is the only stability in the universe – I feel justified in invoking, this day, your renewal of our common and constant confession – that: Heaven and earth shall pass away, but the words of Christ shall never pass away. And, standing where we do, on the central summit of this great Confederacy, unequalled in all history for all manner of blessings, if we did not so confess Christ; if we did not cherish the simple confidence of his primitive disciples, and hail the coming of our Lord with hosannas; if we could ignobly hold our peace; the very statues of the Capitol “would immediately cry out:” the marble lips of Columbus, Penn, and Washington; of War and Peace; of the Pioneer and of Freedom, would part to praise His name: and the stones of the foundation and walls, of the arcades and corridors, of the rotunda and halls, would respond to their glad and grand acclaim.

But, we do confess Him! From Maine to Florida, from Florida to Texas, from Texas to California, from California to Oregon, and from Oregon back to Maine; our lake States, gulf States, and ocean States, our river States, prairie States, and mountain States, all unite in confessing and blessing His name: beholding his glory, surrounding His throne, high and lifted up, and ever crying, like the six-winged seraphim, one to another, far and near, from the North and the South, from the East and the West: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts, the whole earth is full of his glory!”

But where are the words of Christ? And what are they? He did not write them; but merely spoke them, and that during a brief ministry. Nevertheless, they were recorded: and not only such as were uttered in the flesh, but others with which the writers were inspired by His spirit, both before and after His advent – the revelations of the prophets and apostles. All alike are His words: and, here they are – in the Bible! The Bible from beginning to end, is the book of Christ. And, therefore, affirming of the whole what is true of every part, I hold up the Bible, and, in the name of Christ, proclaim to the country and the world: HEAVEN AND EARTH SHALL PASS AWAY, BUT – THE BIBLE, THE HOLY AND BLESSED BIBLE, SHALL NOT PASS AWAY!

What, then, are the words of Christ? Or, as the Bible, the whole Bible, and nothing but the Bible, is the inspired and authoritative record of them – what is the Bible?

We hear much of the higher Law; and the application of the phrase to civil affairs has excited great prejudice and given great offense. But, what is the higher Law? It is said to be something higher than the Constitution of the United States. Can there be a law, within these United States, higher than the Constitution of the United States? If there can be and is such a law – what is it? I need not and will not recite inferior, questionable, and inappropriate answers here. But, is there not one unquestionable answer? Suppose it be said, that, in relation to all subjects to which it was designed to apply, and properly does apply, the Bible is a higher Law than the Constitution of the United States? Will any man, unless an utter infidel, deny this? Surely not. Waiving its practical operations, certainly, as an abstract proposition, this must be admitted as true. It may be extended, so as to include all our State constitutions, and all our Church constitutions, and all our more Social constitutions. Put them all together, magnify and boast of them as we may, not only is the Bible a higher law, but it is an infinitely higher law. For thus says the Lord: “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Therefore, also, the universal and perpetual prophetic challenge: “O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the Lord!”

If this be not true, my mission, at least, is an entire mistake, and my commission ends. But, it is true: and, if there were no other argument to prove it true this one were all-sufficient. All human constitutions, social, ecclesiastical and civil, are changeable, and contain provisions for change: but – the Bible is unchangeable. Instead of any provision for change, it is guarded, at all points, against change. The writer of its first five books declares in the last of the five: “Ye shall not ADD unto the word which I command you, neither shall ye DIMINISH from it, that ye may keep the commandments of the Lord your God, which I command you.” And, in like manner, the author of its last five books, declares in the last of the give: “If any man shall ADD unto these things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book: and if any man shall TAKE AWAY from the words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and from the things which are written in this book.” And so Isaiah, standing midway between Moses and John, exclaims: “Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner: but my salvation shall be forever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished.” Therefore, it is only in accordance with the testimony of all His witnesses, that Christ himself avers: “Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets: I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill. For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.” And so again, in the text itself: Heaven and earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.”

Thank God, for one book above amendment! “Forever, O Lord, thy word is settled in heaven.” And here, in our place and day, we respond to the psalmist on Zion – Forever, O Lord, thy word is settled on earth. No man or set of men; no king, priest or scribe; no popular convention, ecclesiastical council, or national congress; would dare to erase one letter from the record. Let our own countrymen, in particular, treat other books as they think they have a right to do, or feel it their duty, or make it their interest or pleasure to do; by amendment, abridgement, or enlargement, by interpolation or expurgation; not one among them, North, South, East or West, would presume to touch, with any such purpose, the sacred ark containing the higher Law of God. Here is our shrine of worship, the oracle of our wisdom, and the glory of our power.

But, a higher Law implies a higher Judge, and a higher Administrator. And who is the higher Judge? The Holy Spirit! The Spirit of truth, promised unto us to guide us into all truth; making us spiritual and giving us spiritual apprehensions; aiding us in the comparison of spiritual things with spiritual; searching the deep things of God, as contained in the Bible, and revealing them unto us. And who is the higher Administrator? Christ himself! Into whose hands the Father has committed all power “in heaven and in earth,” to qualify Him fully for the duties of this sovereign office. Does anyone object to the higher Administrator? Does anyone object to the higher Judge? Then, why object to the higher Law? They go together, are all divine, and all supreme forever. So that we may say with the prophet: “The Lord is our judge, the Lord is our law-giver, the Lord is our king: he will save us.”

“He will save us!” Blessed conclusion: without which all else were in vain, and worse than in vain. He deigns to become our judge, law-giver and king only that He may save us; and, if we do not thwart Him by our iniquities, because He is our judge , law-giver and king He will save us.

Tell me, Oh tell me, what is it we need? Do we need health, or genius, or learning, or eloquence, or pleasure, or fame, or power? Do we need wealth, or rank, or office? Does anyone of us need to be chaplain, or clerk, or representative, or senator, or speaker, or vice-president? An officer of the army or navy? A member or head of any department? A foreign minister? A cabinet officer? Or even a successor in the line of presidents of the United States? Is such our need? Oh, no! we need salvation.

What did I say in the beginning? Did I not say? We need elevation: as men, Americans and Christians, we need elevation: in our persons and families, states and churches, we need elevation. Certainly I did thus speak, and meant all I said.

Oh, my Friends! All the distinctions alluded to, such as we know them here, are comparatively little things. Greater things are in prospect; but these things, though they seem great, are really little. Pause, think, recall what life has taught you – what observation and experience have combined to impress most deeply upon your consciousness – and begin your review with the sad words, after all! After all, health is a little thing, and genius is a little thing, and learning, and eloquence, and pleasure, and fame, and power, and wealth, and rank, and office, all earthly things are little things. How little satisfaction they yield while they last, and how soon they pass away!

Ask the most successful around you, in these relations, if they have yet supplied their highest need? As the general rule, the more successful they have been the older you will find them. They have not attained their coveted posts of honor by a single leap. They have risen gradually, through years of earnest toil. And the soberness of reflection is now about them. And the anticipation of a hastening end is with them. Ask them, and they will answer: After all, we have spent our lives in little things. We yet need true elevation.

I would tell you more particularly, of whom to inquire – were it not that you would prove it in vain to seek them. Twenty-six years ago, at the age of twenty-five, I was first called to this office. Two years afterward, I served again. I now compare, though briefly and imperfectly, the present with the past. I find a new Hall and a new Senate-Chamber: but the old Hall and old Senate-Chamber are still here. I find also a new House and a new Senate: but where are the old House and old Senate? How many reminiscences crowd upon me! Forms, and faces, and voices, and gestures, and elaborate speeches, and casual debates, and social remarks, and current incidents: all impressed on youthful sensibilities, and not yet effaced. But, I cannot describe them. Where are Jarvis, of Maine; and Cushman and Hubbard, of New Hampshire? Where are Adams, Calhoun, and Choate: Davis, Jackson and Lawrence; Lincoln, Phillips, and Reed, of Massachusetts? Where are Ellsworth, Huntington, and Judson, of Connecticut? Where Burges and Pearce, of Rhode Island? Where, Allen, Everett, and Slade, of Vermont? Where, Bokee, Childs, and Cramer; Granger and Lansing; Lee, Moore, and Wardwell, of New York? Where is Parker, of New Jersey? Where are Beaumont, Chambers, and Denny; Hubley, McKennan, and Mann; Miller, Muhlenberg, and Watmough, of Pennsylvania? Where is Milligan, of Delaware? Where are Dennis, Heath, and Jenifer; McKim and Steele; Stoddert and Washington, of Maryland? Where, Bouldin, Coles, and Dromgoole; Jones, Mason, and Mercer; Patton, Stevenson, and Taliaferro, of Virginia? Where, Conner, Deberry, and McKay; Sheppard, Speight, and Williams, of North Carolina? Where are Blair, Campbell, and Davis; Griffin, McDuffie, and Pinckney, of South Carolina? Where, Glascock, Grantland and Haynes; Holsey and Wilde, of Georgia? Where are White, of Florida? And Lewis and Murphy, of Alabama? Where are Bullard, Garland, and Ripley, of Louisiana? Where is Sevier, of Arkansas? Where are Carter, Crockett, and Dunlap; Forrester and Huntsman; Polk, Pope, and Standefer, of Tennessee? Where, Allen, Boyd, and French; Graves, Hardin, and Hawes; Johnson, Lyon, and Williams, of Kentucky? Where is Ashley, of Missouri? Where are Duncan and May, of Illinois? Where, Boon, Davis, and Hannegan; Kinnard, Lane, and McCarthy, of Indiana? And where are Hamer, Lytle, and Sloane; Spangler, Thompson, and Vance, of Ohio? All these, if my quest has been rightly answered, have passed away, not only from this House, but, from the world: and, doubtless, many of their colleagues, if not already gone, are just about to follow. At least, they are not here. Scarcely a relic is left! And so, of the Senate. Where are Clayton and Cuthbert; Goldsborough, Hill, and Hendricks; Kent, King, and Knight; Moore and Porter; Southard and Sprague; Tipton, Tomlinson, and Wall? Where, the venerable White, and the good-natured Grundy, and the sharp Poindexter, and the learned Robbins, and the Handsome Linn, and the graceful Forsyth, and the sagacious Wright, and the indomitable Benton, and the gentle-tongued Leigh? Where is the easy, all-elate, sonorous, and majestic eloquence of Clay? Where, the calm, cool, clear, and massive magnificence of Webster? Where, the affable dignity, the intellectual and moral loftiness of Calhoun? Passed away – all passed away! Or, will you leave the Halls of Congress? Do you think of the Army? Where, then, are Macomb and Gaines? – of the Navy? Where, then, are Rodgers and Barron? Will you enter the Supreme Court? Where is Marshall – Chief of the Judges? And where is Wirt – Chief of the Attorneys? Or, will you at last repair to the Presidential mansion? Where, then is Jackson? Chief of the Heroes. Passed away – all passed away! How many of their companions, how many of their successors, have also passed away, I have neither time nor knowledge to declare. It is but a little while and a limited area of which I speak, and yet – what a scene of honored dust, in sacred silence, alone remains!

Oh, if I could direct you to them, and you could find them, and should ask them – after all, what is human need? Would they not say, it is elevation, it is salvation – salvation by humiliation, in accordance with the life, and death, and triumph of the meek and lowly Nazarene?

Hearken to me, this day, men, brethren, and fathers! Christianity is the most practical thing, the most immediately and substantially important thing in the universe. Visionary! Fanciful! Impractical! The occupation of dreamers, enthusiasts, and fanatics! Aha! Did I not tell you that we need elevation? How can any, how dare any prate thus of our faith?

Hearken to the truth! If we need health, it is perfect health, and that forever! If we need genius, it is perfect genius, and that forever! If we need learning, it is perfect learning, and that forever! If we need eloquence, or pleasure, or fame, or power, or wealth, or rank, or office – whatever we need, it implies constitutional and conditional perfection, and that forever!

Let me speak for you, one voice for humanity. I need a perfect soul. I need a perfect body, to contain, identify, and obey my soul. I need a perfect home. I need a perfect society. I need perfect employments. I need a perfect government. I need the fullness of eternal life, with God, in heaven. I need the attainment of my true destiny, to stand, as a perfect man, before the perfect God, acknowledged as His child, His image, and His heir.

The Son of God knew this need, and, therefore, became the Son of Man, that he might supply it. Therefore, he appeared as the young Galilean carpenter, despised and rejected of men, but loved and accepted of the Father, making peace by the blood of the cross. Therefore, already overlooking the place of His crucifixion, He uttered the memorable prediction: “Heaven and Earth shall pass away, but my words shall not pass away.” His words are words of pardon, words of purity, words of triumph over death, words pertaining to the resurrection of the dead and the inheritance of life everlasting. Did the stones of the Temple understand Him? Did the palaces of Jerusalem catch His meaning? Did the mountains around the city, and the sky above it, startle at the sound? Did heaven and earth, anywhere or in any way, show the slightest consciousness of His utterance? Senseless, all senseless, utterly senseless, these are the things that pass away. But, something was there, nobler than all these – something destined to outlast all these, to flourish only the more, and still more forever, when heaven and earth shall vanish like the dream of a night. I mean the immortal soul! Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, the Savior and Sovereign of the world, committed His words of redeeming and sanctifying truth to the immortal soul of man, and, therefore, in form, as well as in essence and authority, they remain imperishable.

And so, my friends, in conclusion, I this day commit these words to your immortal souls, that, by God’s blessing, they may abide with you in saving virtue forever. Only four months ago, by these same fingers, the eyes of my dear little Jessie were closed in death. That was a more important event to me than the rise, progress, and fall of a thousand empires. Pity me, Oh pity me; I speak not for myself alone, but for all humanity, one voice for humanity. Think of your own homes, of those you love, and have loved, and loved only the more in death. We are all alike in these relations. And where is our hope of reunion with the lost? Ah, never would the Lord Jesus have uttered the words of the text had He contemplated merely a series of social changes. But He knew and sought our true interest. He fulfilled His humble ministry, and suffered and died that He might secure for us entire and eternal personal redemption – an elevation above all earthly things, and the enjoyment of the fullness of His grace and glory in heaven. Let us cherish his spirit and imitate His example. Let us take due advantage of His mediation, and humble ourselves before God in all penitence and faith, that, in due time, we, with Him, may be truly and forever exalted.

END.

Sermon – Atlantic Telegraph – 1858


This sermon was preached by Joseph A Copp on August 8, 1858 in Chelsea, Massachusetts. It was preached to celebrate the completion of a trans-Atlantic telegraph cable between America and England on August 5, 1858.


sermon-atlantic-telegraph-1858-1

THE ATLANTIC TELEGRAPH: AS ILLUSTRATING THE PROVIDENCE AND BENEVOLENT DESIGNS OF GOD.

A

DISCOURSE,

PREACHED IN THE

BROADWAY CHURCH, CHELSEA,

AUGUST 8, 1858,

BY
JOSEPH A. COPP, D. D.

 

The Atlantic Telegraph Cable was announced from Trinity Bay, Thursday, August 5th, and on the next Sabbath morning, the 8th, was the subject of the following Discourse to a joint congregation of the Broadway and Plymouth Societies, in the Church of the former; and at the earnest request of members of both, is now given to the public.

 

DISCOURSE.JOB XII. 9.

THE HAND OF THE LORD HATH WROUGHT THIS.

It is said that the first telegram sent over the experimental wire of Morse, and which was expressive alike of the good taste and piety of the inventor, was the appropriate Scripture, “What hath God wrought?” A text of similar import has been selected this morning, to discourse, in the way of religious improvement, on the last and grandest achievement of the electro-telegraph.

The subject which, at the present time, justly absorbs public attention throughout Great Britain and the United States, with demonstrations of universal joy, is the union, so happily established between the two countries, by the electric cable. Incredulity may no longer doubt—fears and misgivings are at an end—the marvelous work is done! The wonders of art and practical science in the past, are as children’s work—the creations of the nursery—when compared with this.

A few years ago, the electric telegraph was a thing unknown, a thing incredible to general science; but now it has become a matter of common experience, and of every day business. But to-day we witness another step in the wonderful art, more wonderful than any of its former triumphs—the crowning miracle of all. A few days ago, what was characterized as visionary and impracticable, under natural hinderances deemed insurmountable, and what was pronounced by some eminent scientific men impossible on scientific grounds, is to-day a certain, a pleasing fact. In the face of all reasonings and fears to the contrary, behold the reality! That bold work, against which mighty nature seemed to hurl defiance—to proclaim her prohibition in tempests and stormy waves—is done! Angry ocean may foam and rage, and skeptical science may hesitate and doubt, but the cable is laid!

An epoch worthy of commemoration and thankfulness dawns on us this holy day—worthy of most religious recognition, as coming from God. Today, mother England and her American daughter, heretofore separated for nearly three hundred years of time, and nearly three thousand miles of distance, are brought to shake hands across an annihilated ocean. A proximity of communion and intimacy is henceforth established between them, like that between the sister municipalities, in the midst of which it is our privilege to live. It is true, we cannot to-day hear the bells of Old England ring out her church-going people, but we might hear, along the wonderful cable, her Christians pray and her ministers preach, and lift their pious acclamation over this new and heaven-sent bond of union between the Christian millions of the two countries. Wonderful event! As we contemplate it, the heartfelt utterance rises spontaneously to our lips, “THE LORD HATH WROUGHT THIS!” An event so wonderful in itself, and so prophetic of good to mankind, must be ascribed to the wonder-working providence of Him “who sitteth on the circle of the earth”—who “laid the foundations thereof,” and “stretched the line upon it” of a far-reaching benevolence.

THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD IN THE ACCOMPLISHMENT OF THE OCEAN TELEGRAPH, AND THE GOOD TO MANKIND IT MUST WORK, is the subject of our special consideration.

The Christian cannot doubt that this interesting event, from first to last, is of God. It may indeed be the fruit of genius, courage and unwearied toil. We would gladly ascribe all honor to the inventor, an illustrious son of Massachusetts, whose work confers glory on his country and his native State. But who inspired the fortunate train of thinking, which has led to the grand result? Who put it into the heart of the immortal Morse, to begin and maintain those tedious, expensive, and often disappointed experiments, through years of neglected toil and discouraged hope, which have to-day culminated in the last—greatest wonder of the world? The scientific discoverer himself, was the first to give the glory to God. Like Bezaleel, the son of Uri, he was “filled with the Spirit of God, in wisdom and understanding, and in knowledge.” His soul was touched by a spark brighter than electric light—a spark of heavenly wisdom itself—and the truth burst forth upon him. In that first dispatch, which his own hand sent over the speaking wire, he demonstrated the reality of the wonderful invention, and laid its honor, at the same time, at the footstool of God.

But let us pass from a truth, which atheism alone will deny, and contemplate that particular providence under which the Ocean Telegraph was finally accomplished.

Twelve months ago, when those two mighty ships, with their escort, went forth to do a work by which continents were to be joined, universal expectation was high and sanguine. Science and skill, it was supposed, had so nearly conquered every opposing difficulty, that the enterprise could hardly fail. Great, therefore, was the public disappointment, in the disaster that terminated the expedition. A year rolls round, and all the appliances of science and toil, within the reach of human power, have done their best to correct every error and imperfection, and to perfect the arrangements for a second and successful trial.

But God, to whom belongs, and should be ascribed, the glory of the work, will teach men their weakness and dependence; will make them feel, that in an enterprise on such a magnificent scale, and of such important moral bearings, success “is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of God that showeth mercy.” For a great work, men must be disciplined. Nothing great is accomplished in this world by human agency, as all history will show, without a previous training. So God will teach the leading minds in this great enterprise, and an interested public looking on, that success depends on His favor, who holds the winds in his fist, and the waters in the hollow of his hand. He had planted a mighty ocean between the continents, and before this stormy barrier of six thousand years shall be forced by modern art, and yield to the embracing nations, His permission must be obtained, and the world be made to know, that He consents to the union, and smiles on the work.

Previous failure and disappointment, had somewhat cooled the ardor of expectation, and schooled the minds of men; but the work of discipline was not complete. And now comes the final trial. Prepared for every contingency, as was supposed, the ships turn their prows to mid-ocean. But the winds of heaven are let loose against them, and the angry billows threaten with destruction the daring fleet. God, who measures out the tempest for discipline, and not for destruction, restrains its violence. The ships outlive the storm. One but just survives it. With thanksgivings to God for sparing mercy, they meet at the appointed place, and, with no little despondency, begin the work assigned them. We know the unhappy issue of another, and another trial. Deeply discouraged they return to Ireland, and by the failure of the undertaking spread discouragement over the civilized world. But the enterprise for which so much of mind, and labor, and money had been expended, cannot be abandoned. At least another effort must be made, to satisfy the public, and to sustain a noble company, and if possible a sinking stock, which had become almost worthless in the market.

Under these clouds of discouragement, the cable fleet set about making their last desperate trial. It again set sail, like a forlorn hope, braving the dangers of the fatal breach. The ships, henceforth ever memorable, return to mid-ocean. They return, as the world now felt, to the closing disaster—to throw away their precious cable, seal the financial ruin of the company, and stamp the whole enterprise as a visionary, daring, and impracticable thing. All men looked with sympathy on the noble band of scientific adventurers, and naval officers, doomed to be the victims of the failure.

But another scene awaits us, in which we find an illustration of the Christian proverb, that “man’s extremity is God’s opportunity.” The time, ordained in the eternal counsels of wisdom, had come for success. The managing minds, the men designing and executing, were now disciplined. Science and toil had done all that was possible, and were humbled. And now it was deeply felt, and frankly acknowledged, if God be favorable, it may be done—without a special providence it must fail. And here let us turn aside, and take a look into a secret chapter of this memorable expedition. What were the feelings and encouragements of those practical men, on whom rested the executive responsibilities? Of those on board the Niagara, we can only speak with certainty. These men were rebuked and humbled by past failure, and had come to commit the great work to God in prayer. Their own complete arrangements, were less an encouragement than dependence on the blessing of God. The commander of the ship, and the chief electrician, felt so profoundly the need of God’s blessing, that they sought it through the prayers of God’s people on shore, and humbly implored it in their own state-rooms on board. They invested their undertaking with a high moral importance, rising far above scientific achievement and commercial convenience, as looking to a future of love and good will, of peace and religious benefit to mankind; and thus, purified from low aims, they were prepared to commend the undertaking to Him whose purpose it is, that all things shall so work, as finally to make purity and virtue triumphant.

It is most interesting to know, that while the world of commerce and ambition,–while bankers and philosophers, cabinets of state, and faculties of science, were contemplating the affair from their own stand-points, and in the light of their own peculiar interests and pursuits, there were others, on the land, and in the cabins of the Niagara, a chastened band, praying over it, in the serene light of philanthropy and religion.

Heaven is not unconcerned, when men of pure intentions and humble confidence, call for an exercise of grace, or interposition of Providence in behalf of a worthy object. Under the lofty impulses of religion and humanity, God has given to the soul a large liberty of asking. “Where two or three (said the Saviour) are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them;” and if these “shall agree, as touching anything they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.”

Such were the circumstances of moral discipline and of dependence, under which the two ships meet and make their last splice. No human power was equal to the contingencies of the undertaking. Disappointment had prepared them for the worst; and now, having committed all to God’s holy providence, these two ships separate, and hopefully, prayerfully, but tremblingly, bid on each other farewell.

And now a great and joyful surprise is about to break upon the world. “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Had it been announced the other day, as the final dispatch, that the last effort had been unsuccessful, and the cable was lost, a feeling of regret, indeed, would have followed the announcement, yet no one would have been disappointed; it was already lost in the fears of the multitude. But the time had come for the stupendous work to receive the approval of God, that man might see the divine hand in the accomplishment, and his glory in the end.

And now the surprise that has gladdened the country, and thrilled the hearts of millions in America and Great Britain, is one, under the circumstances, that points emphatically to heaven, and declares, in the language of the Psalmist, “This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.”

And now let us proceed to inquire, as the conclusion of the whole matter, WHAT IS THE GRACIOUS END CONTEMPLATED BY PROVIDENCE IN THIS WONDERFUL EVENT, AND WHAT GOOD TO MANKIND WILL IT WORK?

An event in which the hand of God has been visible, must of course be for good. All things, however, are providential, in that they are wisely employed or overruled, and, directly or indirectly, move forward towards a great and benevolent end. The world, and all things in it and concerning it, are subject to an almighty will, and shall work out the purpose of infinite benevolence. God’s ultimate object cannot be defeated; it will be accomplished as certainly as there is omniscience to plan, and omnipotence to execute.

But in the view of man, some things are more obviously and directly providential than others. While God is actually in all events, yet in many of them he moves invisibly and mysteriously; but in others, his agency unveils itself to a conscious and awe-struck world. Thus Job said, “I have heard of thee with the hearing of the ear, but now, mine eye seeth thee.” Is it not so in the event before us? When all hope of success, under obstacles apparently insurmountable, had been well nigh abandoned, God reveals his own arm; he holds back the winds; he calms the troubled sea; he lays, as it were, with his own hand, the slender wire over that dark and mysterious plateau, hidden for unknown ages, in the depths of ocean, “that it might take hold of the ends of the earth.”

Now what is the design of a providence so signally displayed? We may say generally, and with confidence, some good of corresponding greatness and mercy to the children of men.

First, this telegraphic cable is to be a pledge and bond of peace. Two great Christian nations of the same origin, of the same language, and embarked on the same enterprises of civilization and humanity, ought never to contend but in the noble rivalry of doing good. To contend in low, brutal, wicked war, let us believe, will henceforth be impossible to these kindred nations. They have fought their last battle, and shed the last drop of fraternal blood. The bond of an everlasting union and sympathy is laid between them; it is the cord of love, “a threefold cord, not quickly broken.” It will bind the heart of Old England with noble, fraternal beatings, to that of Young America. Along this cord of connection, will flow those moral forces which, like the processes of life, excite to combine, and, conveying a healthful influence to every part, will serve to unite in harmony and strength, the general system. Through this wonderful medium, will pass and repass the utterances of commerce, of letters, of friendship and religion. Every pulsation of business, of science, and of society along the electric chain between the millions of either land, will strengthen the amity of the countries.

Acquaintance, is the practical philosophy of forbearance and love. Experience shows, the more we understand ourselves and others, the more improbable becomes hurtful difference and vulgar contention. Nations, like individuals, need but mutual acquaintance, to discover the common advantages which flow from peace and friendship. Wars among nations, like quarrels among individuals, are blunders and mistakes. Justice and humanity, no more than true policy, forbid them in every case; and it never can be the interest of men or of nations, to disregard their claims.

Let us therefore hail the success of the great experiment, as the pledge of increasing intimacy and acquaintance, and consequently of peace and good neighborhood between nations destined to control the empire of the world. In the struggle of the past, it was the distance of the Colonies that lost them to the mother country. Their wrongs were unknown, their cries unheard, their just demands unappreciated. The mother, afar off, became indifferent, and then cruel; and the daughter rebellious, and then independent. The result, in its present form, is very well; but henceforth all contention is needless, as it would be wicked between the nations. We therefore hail the success of the Ocean Telegraphs, as closing forever the gates of Janus between kindred millions, and pledging them to a long career of peace and prosperity. Let them go on in an alliance of friendship and love, to do the work of humanity and civilization for the less favored members of the family of mankind.

But, secondly, in this event, we see an omen of promise for Christian progress. Merchants and capitalists projected the Atlantic Telegraph, with worldly views and for worldly ends. Selfishness, very likely, labored to accumulate the wealth, that first moved in the mighty enterprise; and selfishness, it may be, has employed the means and agencies that have accomplished it. But God knows how to overrule the worldly views and ends of man, and turn the plans and labors of the selfish to the account of his kingdom. Commerce builds ships for her own gains and glory, but Religion employs them to send the Bible and the Missionary to the heathen. Capitalists lay railroads, but along the iron track, Christianity and its literature, and its thousand appliances for good, travel and are diffused. The improvements of art, and the facilities of modern traffic, are the ready avenues through which the grace of God pours the riches of mercy on a sinful world. And so in the case of this sub-Atlantic Telegraph; for whatever advantage of state, of commerce, or of letters, it may be regarded and used, God will employ it for the higher purposes of religion and humanity; along it will burn many a dispatch of mercy, to quicken the pulse of Christian activity and holy love of souls, in the old or new world. Transatlantic piety and American zeal, kindled up by intercommunicate flashes, drawn from the battery of heaven itself, will be felt reciprocally and simultaneously in both hemispheres. Wonderful vehicle! Like the spinal cord in the animal system, which conveys the impressions and volitions, from the seat of intellect in the brain, to the most distant members, deciding with instantaneous precision the most remote and complicated movements; so this international spinal connection will serve to convey and multiply the impressions of the divine will, to parts at hand, and to places afar off. Over it will run the living word of Christ, with the speed of lightning, the warmth of love, and the certainty of truth, to perform its saving work on either side of the globe. It is the fulfillment of prophecy—in a significant sense, “It is the voice of him that crieth in the wilderness (of waters), Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert (of deep ocean) a highway for our God.”

Thus, science and wealth have unwittingly laid their contributions at the feet of our blessed Redeemer, to be employed in the promulgation of that saving truth, for which he lived, suffered, and died, and now liveth forever more. This grand achievement belongs to Christ,–to the glory of his kingdom and the progress of his truth we would consecrate it this day. He, to whom God has given all things, rightly claims the telegraph as his own. It is the angel of the Apocalypse, having the everlasting gospel to preach; the angel of heaven’s own lightning, hurrying with the speed of thought,–not through the clouds above, but, under depths, mysterious, profound, and awful, carrying the message of God, “Peace on earth and good will to men,” with angelic certainty and dispatch to the nations.

Thus we may rejoice to-day as Christians and philanthropists, in an event which will bring glory to God and good to man every where, and which will contribute in its future operations to that promised and long prayed for epoch, when Jesus shall reign universally, and

“His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till moons shall wax and wane no more.”

Sermon – House of Representatives – 1858


This sermon was preached by George W. Bassett in the House of Representatives chamber in 1858.


sermon-house-of-representatives-1858-1

SERMON

PREACHED IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES

SUNDAY, JANUARY 10, 1858.

BY

REV. GEO. W. BASSETT,
PASTOR OF THE CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH, WASHINGTON, D. C.

 

SERMON.

I Kings, 2, 2: Show Thyself a Man.

This was a charge worthy of a dying monarch to the heir-apparent to his throne. David had nobly fulfilled his destiny as a man and a sovereign, and was about to entrust the affairs of a great kingdom to his youthful son. Most appropriately, therefore, does he enjoin upon him to conduct himself in a manner worthy of the dignity of his station. This he does in the comprehensive words of the test: “Show thyself a man.”

Though few are called to rule over nations, in many respects these words are strikingly appropriate to every human being. To the most obscure mortal is entrusted the empire of a mind deathless as Deity; and he that rules his own spirit is superior to the conqueror of the world.

The most profound statesmen, the most sagacious of politicians, and the most fearless and invincible warriors have generally failed here; and the weakest females have often meekly borne off the palm, amidst the shouts of attending angels and the applause of the King of kings.

Our text naturally suggests two inquiries: 1st. What are the essential elements of humanity? 2d. What conduct is becoming a man in view of those elements? Or, what is a man? And what is it to show one’s self a man? 1. What is a man? Oh! That the spell of sensuality might be broken, and that American mind might be disenthralled of matter; that men would see that they possess other than physical elements of being; and that the chief end of man is not to eat, drink, and die! Man possesses a triune nature – physical, intellectual, and moral; the existence, functions, and destiny of each, clearly distinguished from the other. On each department of our nature is inscribed by the creator, immutable laws, in obeying which, this natural destiny is accomplished and well-being secured; and in disobeying which, the appropriate end of being is defeated, and inevitable ruin incurred.

Look at the physical or lowest department of the human constitution. What does nature dictate in regard to its proper function and legitimate destiny? Adaptation is the key to this subject. To what is this idolized body of man adapted? And you have the exact design of nature in its creation. We find it endowed with five senses, each susceptible of pleasurable excitement from certain external objects. But the excitement of these, even on legitimate objects, beyond certain limits, is uniformly productive of pain. Hence we infer there is a natural limit to their lawful gratification. And further, these senses are the means of communication with the material world; their momentary gratification is by no means their ultimate end: they are altogether subordinate and subservient to mind. And when they usurp an unnatural supremacy over mind, their empire is death to all nobleness and true humanity.

Again, these corporeal powers belong to earth; they exhibit not a symptom of immortality. I refer not to the “spiritual body” of the resurrection spoken of by Paul and others, (a subject, I confess, hard to be understood,) but I say the corporeal powers which we now possess, have their sphere of operation in this life. Their nature is flesh, and not spirit; and their destiny is death, not life. Let this cardinal fact ever modify our estimate of their relative value and importance.

Let us, in the second place, leaving the dark domain of matter, approach the ethereal regions of spirit, and contemplate, for a moment, the immortal part of man. Here we discover the essential characteristics of a man, as distinguished from the brute. Man’s spiritual nature is composed of intellectual powers and moral feelings. Of his intellectual powers, notice particularly the power of original, independent thought. Man’s intellectual activities are not limited to the mere functions of perception. A far higher destiny is stamped upon the human intellect. He possesses not only the power to perceive facts, but to apprehend their multiplied relations, and to reduce them to complete systems of philosophy. Wisdom is the legitimate prerogative of the human intellect. Observe also the power of volition. Man was evidently not made to be the mere creature of another’s will – to live, and breathe, and speak, and think at another’s command – but was endowed with the more than royal power of individual responsibility and independent action.

In regard to the moral nature of man, notice the principle of conscience by which he comprehends and feels the force of moral obligations. He perceives what is right and feels bound to do it, and he perceives what is wrong and he feels bound to resist it. This universal moral sense, whatever may be its constitutional element, is an undeniable and imperishable fact of human nature. It is an essential part of the deathless man. It’s still small voice may be drowned for a moment, in the wild tumult of the rebellious passions; it may even be lulled into a temporary slumber, by the siren voice of vicious pleasure; but this will only prepare it to awake to a more terrible vengeance upon its suicidal victim.

As kindred to this, I would mention another interesting element of our moral constitution, and which we may call a natural sense of justice. It differs from conscience, in that the latter limits its mandates to one’s own moral acts, while the former may have reference to transactions in which one has no agency, and can have no personal responsibility. Our conscience can have nothing to do with the unheard-of cruelties of Nena Sahib, while our sense of justice is painfully violated. Conscience does not contrast this murderer of women and children, with their brave protector and avenger, the immortal Havelock. It is entirely inoperative here. But the sense of justice is not. This, independent of one’s own acts, cries out that the conduct of one is that of unparalleled barbarity, while that of the other is unsurpassed in true glory. Now, I maintain that this sense of justice is one of the most sacred and authoritative instincts of our common humanity. I know its dictates may be violated, and that too, in the name of religion, and under the mandates of a vitiated conscience; but remove all disturbing forces, and let humanity express its natural promptings, and there is no essential discrepancy. The race utters one universal demand for justice between man and man.

But we have not apprehended the essential elements of human nature until we have contemplated the source of moral action – the heart. This it is which loves and hates. This susceptibility is the crowning glory of man. An intellect to apprehend; a conscience to command, and a will to execute, without a heart to feel and love, would leave their possessor wanting in the cardinal element of humanity. The heart to love, more than all elements, constitutes the glory of our race. This is the seat of virtue, the fountain of bliss. Here is seen pre-eminently the divine image, all radiant with benevolence, or defaced and marred, and polluted by the indulgence of supreme selfishness.

Again, progress is a law of man’s spiritual nature. The human body manifestly possesses a limited destiny. It attains to complete development and maturity in a few years. It then commences its natural process of decay. Not so of the spirit of man. Reason can discover no limit to its progressive development.

The growth and expansion of the intellect is produced by its exercise upon newly discovered facts and relations, and as the facts of the universe and their relations are without limit, so there can be no reason for setting bounds to the future progress of the human intellect. The incarnate mind is amazed at the stupendous destiny that is stamped upon the intelligence of man.

The moral nature of man is also highly susceptible of consolidation and progress. Strength and stability, result from habitual exercise. The principle of benevolence, which is the great law of our moral nature, is strengthened chiefly by exercise. And all creation is full of exciting causes, and stimulants to the exercise of this faculty. Especially is the moral condition of our world one universal appeal to this principle. Besides, the Creator has connected pleasure with the legitimate exercise of all of the intellectual and moral powers, thus stimulating them to voluntary efforts at development, and indicating their appropriate destiny. Not less truthfully than beautifully is it said, that “the path of the just is as the shining light, which shines more and more unto the perfect day.” Progress, therefore, is a law of man’s spiritual nature.

Having thus imperfectly reviewed the elements of the human constitution, we will proceed to the consideration of the second topic of discourse, viz: What conduct is becoming to human nature, or what is it to show one’s self a man?

1. It is not becoming a man to cultivate and exercise, exclusively or principally, his bodily powers and appetites. Nothing is more unbecoming in a man than the subjection of his physical constitution. What a moral picture is here presented to our conception! Look at the world, materialized, sensualized, degraded! What is the grand inquiry of this God-begotten race? What shall I eat? What shall I drink? Wherewithal shall I be clothed? Constitute the practical ethics of the world! Mind, heart, immortality, God, holiness – these are unwelcome ideas, seldom thought of and scarcely apprehended. What a wide waste of being! “Man, created but a little lower than the angels, and crowned with glory,” living like the beasts that perish! In the highest circles of fashion men often present the humiliating phenomena of refined and cultivated animals. Their Divine humanity is lost sight of, eclipsed by refined and reputable sensualism. Is it manly to bring all the immortal powers of the spirit to subserve the momentary gratification of the animal appetites? Is it not worse than brutal? Is it not devoting the powers of a man to perform the acts of a brute? Such is the stultifying influence of the selfish passions, that immortal man has gone mad after sensual pleasure. And although every unlawful indulgence infuses an adder’s poison, yet the subjected spirit is dragged along, as by some infernal spell, from vice to vice, until it becomes the unresisting slave of its own lusts. And then what an object is man! How fallen from his primeval glory!

2. It is unbecoming a man to suffer his intellectual attributes to predominate over and subject his moral sentiments; to develop his mind at the expense and neglect of his heart.

From the lowest walks of life, through all grades of society, to the highest positions of honor and dignity, the majority of men seem everywhere to ignore the existence of a moral and accountable nature. So far from moral considerations bearing supreme sway, their claims are violated and sacrificed for the paltry considerations of temporal gratification. Intellect, and especially that second-rate development called sagacity, smartness, and sometimes talent, is worshipped. Men of genius, where are they? If this age is capable of producing them, they are struggling with adversity or pining in want; and as to superior moral worth, and an uncompromising hostility to wrong, it is an encumbrance. True virtue – not the sham religion of the times – is an un-current element of power. The real statesman may apprehend correctly the great principles that lie at the foundation of his country’s peace, but the mere politician who ignores those principles, and flatters the popular prejudices, is the available man. He, with some noble exceptions, secures the popular suffrage. And the real prophet of God may apprehend fully the moral degeneracy of the Church. He may detect and expose the heartless formalism of her service, the disgraceful inconsistency of her members, and the mercenary motives of her cowering, man-fearing, soul-deceiving priesthood, – but his message is not received. Still the “prophets prophesy smooth things, and the priests bear rule, (keep their places,) and the people love to have it so.”

But this state of things is all incompatible with the natural supremacy of the moral over the other departments of the human constitution. Man’s moral nature was evidently stamped with regal authority. As the supremacy of the physical over the spiritual makes the beast, so the ascendency of the intellectual over the moral, makes the Devil.

Intellect is not the seat of virtue or of bliss. It is the medium of happiness or of misery, according to the moral state of the heart. Did the transcendent genius of Byron make him happy? He

“Stood on the Alps – stood on the Appenines,
And with the thunder talked, as friend to friend,
And wore his garland of the lightning’s wing,
In sportive twist.
Suns, moons, and stars and clouds, his sisters were;
Rocks, mountains, meteors, seas, and winds and storms,
His brothers – younger brothers, whom he scarce
As equals deemed.<

—Yet

He died – he died of what? – of wretchedness;
Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump
Of fame; drank early, deeply drank; drank draughts
That common millions might have quenched – then died
Of thirst, because there was no more to drink.”

Deluded man! He essayed to quench his immortal thirst at the broken vessels of sinful pleasure, but neglected that perennial fountain of life that issues from the Eternal Throne above. It was the matchless words of his own bitter experience, that

“They who know the most
Must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth –
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life”

And so it must ever be with the ascendancy of the intellect over the moral nature of man. To enlarge the intellect while the heart is depraved, is to increase the power of self-torture. Every idea that is received into the mind of an unsanctified heart, will be a charge in the spiritual battery of self-destruction, that will play upon the guilty soul forever.

Is it acting the part of a man to develop all the secondary elements of human nature, while the cardinal principles – those to which all the others are naturally subservient – are either neglected or vitiated? To show one’s self a man, is to develop the entire constitution, and not to neglect or squander the most important part. Melancholy and fearful is the sight of a giant intellect under the control of wickedness. It is dark and terrible as the storms of the tropics – gloomy and desolate as polar midnight.

But I remark positively: 1. To show one’s self a man, is to repent of sin. Strange as this may sound, it is the first step towards real manhood. That man was made for virtue and not vice, – for holiness and not sin – is evident from all the adaptations of his moral constitution. But that he has violated the laws of his moral nature, and become positively vicious, is evident to all. Now the only natural or possible mode of correcting his vitiated moral nature, is to repent. No other act has the least tendency towards it. Repentance, therefore, is not only manly, but is the first truly manly act a human being is capable of. Such is the universality of human wickedness, that all moral acts, previous to repentance, are selfish and unworthy of a man. I am aware that repentance is looked upon as a weakness; but it is the most heroic of acts. It is self-subjection – a triumph over one’s worst foes – those of his own household; yea, those of his own heart! I am not speaking of the servile cowering of the sycophant; but the honest and generous return to duty of the erring subject of the Great God – an acknowledgement of the rights of the Creator and Benefactor of the universe. It is establishing the supremacy of virtue in a self-reined soul. To prostrate one’s self before the Great Jehovah, and ingenuously confess his transgressions, and abandon them forever, shows a perception of right, and evinces an integrity of purpose which is truly exalted and manly. But for a moral being to persist in wrong, against the dictates of his judgment, and under the lash of a guilty conscience, argues anything but manliness. It is the spirit of slavery in the love of it. Viewed by the standard of universal right, man is in ruins. His heart is a moral wreck, and his ignorance of the fact is one of its most melancholy effects. Now I ask if the only retrograde process from vice to virtue, from misery to bliss, and that process approved and urged by every power of the soul, is not a manly process? I say, then, to the persevering transgressor of God’s law: “Show thyself a man,” and repent of you. To the self-enslaved drunkard or epicure, I would say, show yourself a man, and subject your body to the spirit. And to the lover of the world, I would still say, show thyself a man, and trample your idols in the dust. Repentance, meanness? What else is honorable? Is justice mean? What faculty of your mind says it? But repentance is only justice to God and man. Every sin is a blow at the Throne of God and a stab at the heart of man. Sin is an infraction of the law that guards the throne, and protects the interests of the universe, and its criminality and ill-desert is measured only by the magnitude of those interests. And can it be deemed manly to persevere in transgression? Every power and faculty of man’s triune nature answers, no! A wretched, sin-cursed race cries out, no! All the angelic world above, and all the demoniac tribes beneath, unite their testimony against the manliness of continued transgression!

2. Earnest and appropriate efforts to attain to the highest possible degree of moral development, are well becoming a man. Growth in grace, truly apprehended, is the highest possible aim of man on earth. He has not apprehended the relations of man in this world, who has failed to recognize his condition as that of war, – a war of truth against error, – of virtue against vice, – of right against wrong; and it is manly to wage this great war with untiring zeal and true bravery. No nobler spectacle presents itself to observing angels, than that of a weak mortal summoning all his moral powers to the contest of right against wrong, striving to subdue every unworthy principle of action, and aspiring after the highest degree of moral greatness. This is more glorious than all military or civil triumphs.

If you would be manly and truly superior, my hearers, subdue passion; overcome prejudice; re-enthrone reason, and obey the supreme law of your mind.

3. Piety is manly. Reverence for the Supreme Being, and loyalty to the Sovereign of the Universe, are becoming a man, and nothing is more unbecoming that the opposite. There is not a constitutional pulsation of man’s moral nature, nor an adaptation or prompting of his whole constitution, but points to real piety as the true normal condition of his being. Men of mind affect to despise the Christian religion! I mean true apostolic Godliness, – real, genuine Puritanism, – the uncompromising war against the world, the flesh and the devil. They look with contempt and aversion upon the votaries of such a religion, and call the man that renounces the riches and honors of the world for such a religion, and makes himself of no reputation, for Truth’s sake – a miserable fanatic; and they affect to pity his weakness and want of manliness!

But what is a Christian, but a rectified man? This it is; nothing more; nothing less. I protest against the vulgar prejudice that when a man becomes a Christian, he ceases to be a man. He then assumes his proper, his primeval humanity, and never before. Those religions that degrade the soul, narrow the heart, and fill the mind with bigotry, conceit, and unmanly servility, are not genuine Christianity. They are the prolific spawn of an age of heartless formalism. But true Christianity is a very different thing. It is a sacred consecration of all our powers to the good of universal being. It is a condition of vast moral superiority; even a triumph over the world, the flesh, and the devil. It is a condition of perpetual antagonism against all wrong, and of uncompromising identity with all right.

Now, shall he who pours out his full heart of love and gratitude upon his Infinite Creator and Benefactor, and devotes all his powers to universal well being, be looked upon with contempt by him who worships the stupid things of sense, and knows no higher motive of action than supreme selfishness? Do you call piety superstition? It is true philosophy. Adoration meanness? It is the highest employment of man! Says a great writer, “No nobler feeling than this of adoration for one higher than himself dwells in the breast of man.” Man was made to love and to love the lovely, and to love supremely the Infinitely Lovely; and this alone is manly. Christianity degrading to humanity? Look at facts. Who is it that now challenges the gratitude and admiration of the civilized world for his unparalleled military heroism in avenging violated and slaughtered innocence, and in protecting and defending the helpless? Who is the avenging hero of bloody Cawnpore, and the angel of salvation to besieged and distressed Luck now? Who wrought those miracles of bravery in that six days march of blood and death from one to the other? The brave, the beloved Havelock, the Baptist exhorter. He it was who when Colonel, baptized the soldiers of his own regiment; and his commanding officer having investigated charges against him for disorderly and un-soldier like conduct in the thing, pronounced his regiment the most orderly and well behaved; and sending him his respects, ordered him to baptize the whole army. Has Christianity degraded that self-sacrificing hero? What else made him equal to the exigency, and carried him triumphantly through those overwhelming scenes?

Did Puritan Christianity render the soldiers of Cromwell inferior as men? When did they show it? Was it on the field of battle? Was it when the gay Cavaliers of the Royal army melted before their burning charges like wax in the furnace? Was it in the presence of the Parliament of England, whom they expelled from their venerated halls because they did the work of the Lord deceitfully, as they said? Was it when, under the inspiration of pure truth, they rose superior to all human laws and precedents, and executed a murderous sovereign in the name of the Eternal God? What made Cromwell’s Ironsides all heroes? What but the Christian religion? Are you ashamed of piety as unmanly? Go, erase from the scroll of fame the names of Washington, Wilberforce, Newton, Locke, and Milton, and even old Socrates, the most pious of the heathen!

Nowhere will you find the complete development of all the departments of the human constitution, but under the rectifying influence of a pure Christianity.

4. Love to our fellow man is essential to a manly character. The duties of justice between man and man and the spirit of universal brotherhood, are manifest dictates of the human constitution; and when man violates these principles, he so far forth ceases to be human, and approaches the character of spirits and beasts of prey. The relation of mutual dependence and essential equality, which characterizes the race, stamps its destiny in this respect. “No man lives to himself” and obeys the laws of his being; and he who lives a life of supreme selfishness, lives in violation of the laws that are written upon his constitution, and he experiences all the melancholy consequences of transgression. His heart is withered, his moral sense blunted, and his whole spiritual nature vitiated. Look at the selfish world. Man rioting upon the blood and bones of his fellow! Is this manly? Is it the dictate of the human constitution? Is man really a beast of prey? Has God furnished him with the tusks of the hyena? Has he endowed him with the mean selfishness of the wolf? The sly deception and trickery of the fox? And the fatal poison of the adder, that he should go about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour? Whence this divine sense of justice, and those celestial promptings of benevolence and generosity? Ah! Man was made to be the brother, and not the tyrant and robber of his fellow man. Those fraternal promptings of his unsophisticated nature are unmistakable. They utter plainly the voice of nature’s God.

Rem. 1. This subject suggests a forcible argument in proof of the divinity of the Christian religion. It is the entire harmony of that religion with the human constitution. Reason can account for the wonderful adaptation of the provisions of the Gospel to the spiritual necessities of man, only on the theory of a common author. Philosophy had exhausted her resources in four thousand years of fruitless efforts to solve the momentous problem of human regeneration. All was hopeless darkness until the Star of Bethlehem arose with the beams of Heaven’s own light. From that great day to the present time, true Christianity has been the uniform antagonist of vice, and the great lever of human elevation. To my mind, it is far more difficult to account for the human than the divine origin or Christianity. Reason testifies, not that God was not its author, but that none but God could have been its author.

2. Notice one of the popular errors of the times. It is the neglect of the moral culture of the masses. Great and unwanted efforts are made by governments and associations to extend popular education. But education is limited to the cultivation of the intellect. No appropriate influences are used to cultivate the controlling and prompting powers of conscience and heart. Temples of Minerva, called colleges, are built and endowed; temples of fashion, called churches, are enlarged and beautified, but no temples of truth, charity and self-sacrificing benevolence are consecrated in the popular heart. Ah! My hearers, common school education will not save this country. The disease of this nation lies deeper than the intellect. It is in the heart and moral feelings of the people, and the remedy must be applied there. Like the old Jacobins, you have erected an altar to the Goddess of Reason, and alongside of it you have inaugurated the profligate worship of Bacchus, the degrading slavery of Mammon, and the wild disorder of Belial. The stream of public corruption is onward and resistless. Nothing can save this nation from discord and universal profligacy, but the wide dissemination of a reformed Christianity.

3. You see that genuine Christianity is not incompatible with the dignity and true prosperity of man. What is human dignity but the realization of human destiny? And what is prosperity but the healthy development of the entire man? But practical Christianity alone secures these ends. There is not an instinct of human nature but is gratified to its fullest susceptibility, solely by complying with the true dictates of Christianity. One can enjoy the legitimate pleasure of the bodily appetites to the highest degree, only by obedience to the Christian mandate of temperance in all things. The rich man fails of the highest advantages of wealth, unless that wealth is all consecrated to God – and so of an unsanctified ambition. Be assured, my hearers, yonder Presidential mansion will not pay at the cost of one iota of personal integrity. Fanatic or not, I protest to you that it is no temptation to a mind that appreciates the transcendent glory of moral excellence. There is a more true dignity in wheeling the gravel of the streets, with an untarnished and un-degraded spirit, than in mounting the proudest throne on earth, at the cost of honor, personal independence and true liberty. If, then, you would rise superior to all the corrupt dominions of earth, show thyself a man – claim your divine birthright, and wield the scepter of moral dominion over the world, the flesh and the Devil.

By all the necessities of your temporal being – by the immortal hungering of your deathless spirit – by the universal wail of a sin-cursed world – by the sympathetic yearnings of angelic hosts above – and by the infinite pulsations of God’s compassionate heart, I urge and entreat you now to show yourselves men; dethrone the world, and give your heart to God, and your life to the temporal and eternal welfare of your race.

Sermon – Election – 1856, Vermont


The following is an election sermon preached by Willard Child in Vermont on October 11, 1856.


sermon-election-1856-vermont

 

SERMON

PREACHED BEFORE

THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY

OF THE

STATE OF VERMONT:

OCTOBER 11, 1856,

BY
REV. WILLARD CHILD, D. D.,
OF CASTLETON, VERMONT.

PRINTED BY ORDER OF THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY.

 

Resolved, by the Senate and House of Representatives, That the thanks of the General assembly be tendered to the Reverent Willard Child, D. D., for his Election Sermon, and that the Secretary of State be directed to request a copy of said Sermon for the press, and to cause one thousand copies of said Sermon, when procured, to be printed for the use of the General Assembly.

In House of Representatives, Oct. 11, 1856.
Read and adopted.
NORMAN WILLIAMS, JR., Ass’t Clerk.
In Senate, Oct. 11, 1856.
Read and adopted in concurrence.
R. C. BENTON, Jr., Ass’t Sec’y.

 

SERMON.
“HE SHOWETH HIS WORD UNTO JACOB, HIS STATUTES AND HIS JUDGMENTS UNTO ISRAEL. HE HATH NOT DEALT SO WITH ANY NATION, AND AS FOR HIS JUDGMENTS, THEY HAVE NOT KNOWN THEM. PRAISE YE THE LORD.—Psalm CXLVII, 19, 20.

The four Psalms, with which the book is concluded, are believed to have been written after the restoration of the Jews from their long captivity, and the re-building of their temple and the re-establishment of their religious service under Nehemiah and his compatriots. They breathe a fervent spirit of gratitude and joy, unmingled with the mournful strains with which many of these wonderful compositions are saddened. They celebrate the power, and wisdom and goodness of God, as manifested in the kingdom of Nature, yet often recurring with deeper delight to the more precious revelation of his character and ways to his peculiarly favored nation. In the psalm of the text, the writer sings in lofty strains the glory of that only living and true God, who controls the seasons of the year, and all material elements, and makes them subserve the wants of all his creatures; yet the intelligent reader cannot but observe how he is attracted to the truth, and how fondly he broods over it, that this great Being, who is so mighty in counsel and so wonderful in working, is eminently the God of Israel; and, in the language of a recent commentator, “will work spiritual changes corresponding to these natural phenomena, for the benefit of the people whom he has entrusted with the revelation of his will.” But if such were the views and feelings of the Jew, with his incomplete revelation, and his system of worship, which was chiefly only the shadow of good things to come, how much more should similar views and feelings be cherished by a people who are blessed with the full-orbed revelation, and the spiritual worship of the Christian dispensation;–a dispensation in which ‘life and immortality are brought to light,” and not the consecrated hierarch alone, but every worshiper, permitted, through “the offering made once for all,” by Jesus his great High Priest, to enter himself “the most holy place,” and draw near to God in full assurance of faith. The following statement, then, is plainly derived from the text, and, I trust, will not be deemed inappropriate to the occasion which has assembled us before God in this house of prayer: The highest privileges and richest blessings of any people, are found in the possession of the word of God, and the institutions, instructions and ordinances of a pure religion. This proposition, obviously warranted by the text, will be sustained and enforced by every just view we can take of the character, condition, relations and prospects of man. And a due consideration of its significance may fully justify the propriety of the course you have adopted, as the rulers and legislators of a commonwealth, to signalize the commencement of your offices and duties by an act of homage to that religion, which is the fountain-light of our best knowledge, and the sure guardian of our dearest interests, for this world and that which is to come. It is no unhallowed union of church and state, injurious to both, but the fit acknowledgment of wise and good men, that for the right discharge of their official duties they need that wisdom which cometh from above, and that for the state, whose welfare they are sacredly bound to promote, the blessing of God is the only effectual provision: that “except the Lord keepeth the city, the watchman waketh in vain.” For the confirmation of the statement proposed as the theme of discourse at this time,–

I. Let us look, first, at man in his social and civil relations; and see how, for the perfection of all these, and to ensure the realization of their highest blessings, the truths and institutions and influences of religion are indispensable. It is not difficult to show, by decisive historic proof, that for our civil freedom, and those institutions of popular government in which we rejoice, we are directly indebted to religion. Our popular institutions of civil government were the gift of religion to the state. The wisdom and instincts of religion revealed their conception and produced the longing for them, and the purifying influences of religion prepared a people by whom they could be realized. An infidel historian has been compelled to record, that the great principles of freedom in the English constitution owe their existence to that noble body of earnest religious men, who were derided by their enemies as “puritans,” a name now widely honored among the nations. From these men came our own pilgrim fathers. And be it forever remembered, that their great object in coming hither, was freedom to worship God according to the high behests of a religion which they regarded as paramount to all the considerations relating to the duty and the destiny of man. Their establishment of free political institutions, the freest the world has ever seen, was a corollary to their main proposition. That proposition was not human, it was divine; it was not earthly, but heavenly. It was freedom of conscience,–freedom to learn, and do all the will of God, without human dictation or human restraint. And the wisdom which guided them in ordering their civil and political affairs well—better than the world had ever seen before,–was an emanation from that wisdom which made them wise unto salvation. They were wise in the things of earth and time, because they reverenced “the word, and the statutes and the judgments” which the Lord had given unto them, and, guided by such a heavenly light, they considered all the things of time in their relation to the things of eternity. Such was the way in which our blessed heritage was prepared and transmitted to us, and only in this way can it be preserved and freed from the formidable dangers which now oppress it, and be handed down to bless the thronging generations that shall come after us.

“Sons of sainted pilgrim sires,
Guardians of their altar fires,
Hold the truth that made them free,
Hold their faith and purity.”

“They were sent to free the mind,
Heavy burdens to unbind,
Nobly they discharged their trust,
Peace and honor to their dust.”

“By their tears, their toils, their cares,
Martyr struggles, wrestling prayers,
We, beneath our spreading vine
And our fig-tree now recline.”

“Sons of sainted pilgrim sires,
With a zeal that never tires,
Tread the path your fathers trod,
Serve the Lord, your Father’s God.”

We have indeed a great and goodly land—a land “flowing with milk and honey,” with a fullness of tide such as Canaan in its palmist days never knew. But “man doth not live by bread alone. By every “word that proceedeth out of the mouth of the Lord doth man live.” And we have marvelous mechanical inventions. What were the swift ships, and swift dromedaries of the old Hebrew, to the storm-wind velocity and lightning speed with which we traverse land and sea? But though man may yoke his car to the storm-wind or to the lightning, he cannot so overtake his highest good, even for this world, and much less for another. By other means must that be reached than by any discovery or application of the powers of nature, or any perfection of mechanical inventions.

We are certainly in possession of the freest political institutions which have ever been known on earth. And we talk full often, and I fear too boastfully, of our superiority to other nations in this regard. We foster thus, it is to be apprehended, a selfish and vain-glorious spirit, instead of that humble gratitude which acknowledges the Divine giver of our privileges, and ensures to us their continuance, with His favor to crown them all. And often, it seems to me, the very nature of these free political institutions is misunderstood or forgotten, and they are thought of and spoken of, as if they had in themselves an inherent living energy to work out their results and secure our well-being. But what, in truth, are all the institutions of freedom but open and unobstructed channels for the utterance and action of the general sentiments of the people? And what if the people become generally corrupt? What, if unscrupulous ambition, unchecked covetousness, and wanton and brutal self-indulgence become lords of the ascendant, and the ruling spirits of the hour,–what then will be our boasted free institutions? Like other mere channels, they can only give free course to the flood that is poured into them from the fountains, having no power in themselves to determine whether that flood shall be the water of life, bearing health and gladness to all the people, or whether it shall be the torrent of woe and death. The ballot box and universal suffrage are doubtless mighty instruments, but they are instruments which ignorant and bad hands can use, as well as wise and good. And if ignorance and vice predominate, may not then the ballot box become a terror and a curse? Can we rely on the collisions of unmitigated selfishness neutralizing each other, and ensuring the dominion of that law, “whose voice is the harmony of the universe?” “The voice of the people is the voice of God,” only when the people are informed and actuated by the spirit of the Lord. If the mind and conscience and heart of the people are not educated to intelligence and goodness, then our institutions cannot be maintained, and it would not in such a state of things be best that they should. Then we should be compelled to invoke the aid of brazen gates and bars to hold in stern check that very freedom in which we now exult.

And is there any agency, on which we may securely rely, to give the needful knowledge and integrity to a great and rapidly growing people? Where are we to look for the conservative influences that shall save us from following in the way of those free states which have grown great, and rich, and luxurious, and wicked, until they were strangled by their own vices, and smothered by their own corruptions? Let all due honor be given to the literary institutions of our land, and especially to our noble system of free schools, designed to give the means of education to all the children of our land; to the poorest and lowest not less than to those by fortune more favored. Let them be perfected, and let them be perpetual. Every wise statesman will place it among his chief cares to give to our system of free education for all the people every excellence and advantage of which it is capable. He will regard that as suicidal parsimony which withholds any needful and possible expenditure of money or of effort for the accomplishment of such an end. Mr. Webster once eloquently said, in describing the vast military power of Great Britain, “the beat of her morning drum follows the rising sun “around the globe.” But there is a power more benign, more honorable and more mighty, than that of navies and armies. And let ours be the boast, abjuring alike the false glory, and all the murderous accompaniments of “the spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, and all the pomp and panoply of war,” that far as our republic extends, the morning school-bell summons the myriads of our happy children and youth to their richly provided and well disciplined schools. But while we foster with generous care, let us not idolize our system of school education. Let us not depend upon it for that which it will certainly never accomplish. If “knowledge is power,” be it ever remembered that it is, in itself merely, equally the power of good or of evil. What is knowledge in the hand of the bold bad man but a mighty engine to be wielded for a villain’s ends? To another agency besides that of the mere school, to another power than that of such an education, must we look for an enlightened conscience, and a renovated heart, safely and happily to guide the energies and shape the destinies of a self-governed nation. That power is the Bible, setting forth the statutes and judgments of the Lord, and rendered quick and powerful by the spirit of God in awakening the conscience and renovating the heart. The lessons of history and the character of man duly pondered, would clearly show that the school itself had its origin in, and must depend mainly for its continuance and perfection upon, a religion which puts a Bible into every man’s hand, and strives by all means to have him make that book “the man of his counsel and the guide of his life.” It was the men who braved the dangers of a wintry ocean and the horrors of a New England wilderness “to seek a faith’s pure shrine,”—freedom to worship God after the dictates of their own conscience,–who built the school house next to the house of God, and honored the good school master next to the faithful minister of Christ. We are now the possessors and guardians for the generations who shall throng after us, of a broad and fair heritage, prepared by the wisdom and toils, and sacrifices not without blood, and blessed by the prayers of those more deeply learned in the school of Christ. If we would have it go well with us and with our children, we must profit by their heaven-taught wisdom and experience. True religion seeks not the protection and support of rulers and legislators, it asks no human enactments to enforce its behests, but it offers itself as a hallowed protection and support to all men in all conditions; and if its behests have due reverence, it will “bind our princes” in bonds which will be ornaments of glory upon them, and “teach our senators” a “wisdom” which conflicts not with the wisdom which is from above, and which therefore commends itself to every man’s conscience in the fear of God. This is the one great palladium of our safety,–mighty alike to give strength to a healthy conservatism, and energy to all needful reforms. This will ensure the enactment of good laws, and their faithful execution, and that sacred loyalty in the people, which identifies self-respect, and earnest regard for our neighbor’s well-being, with the spirit of obedience to the government of the state. We are now, as a nation, subjected to the severest trial which we have ever experienced. Various elements of evil are developing themselves with peculiar malignity and power, and thoughtful men, who love our government and feel that the cause of human freedom, as connected with popular institutions, is deeply involved in the issue of our experiment, have sometimes trembled for the result. Such men know that the combinations of selfishness cannot always be depended on to adjust our increasing difficulties. Nothing, I believe, can effect this but the power the conscience and the heart of the nation can be so controlled as to constrain the putting away from us of all that conflicts with the laws of eternal justice, and at the same time to constrain the needful concessions when points of mere interest are in question, then the Lord will be our God, and we shall be a light to the nations. Otherwise we shall fall like Lucifer, and our example, instead of being the elevating hope of the oppressed, will be a by-word and a hissing among the nations, and the tyrant’s strongest argument and most impregnable defence.

When we look at man in his more intimate social relations, the truth receives increased confirmation that the richest blessings of any people are found in the possession of the word of God, and the instructions and ordinances of a pure religion. What is to give us that earthly paradise—that only bliss of man which has survived the fall,–a pure and happy home? Legislation cannot do it. The mere intellectual culture of the school can by no means achieve this end.—Nothing can do it but that religion, with its heavenly revelations, its solemn worship, and its affecting sanctions, which the word of the Lord and his statutes and judgments ordain. It is this religion presiding in every dwelling-place, and making all there feel that the favor of God is life, and his loving kindness better than life, which will make all the inmates,

“Each in his proper station move
And each fulfill his part,
With sympathizing heart,
In all the cares of life and love.”

There the Bible will proclaim to listening ears and reverent hearts—“Husbands love your wives, even as Christ loved the church, and ye wives see that ye reverence your husbands.” “Children obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.” “Honor thy father and mother,” &c. “And ye parents, provoke not your children to wrath lest they be discouraged, but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.” “Servants obey in all things your masters according to the flesh, not with eye-service, as men pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing God. And what service ye do, do it heartily as unto the Lord, and not unto men, knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance, for ye serve the Lord Christ.” “Masters give unto your servants that which is just and equal, knowing that ye also have a master in heaven.” Nothing but this could have prepared those delightful pictures of family piety which adorn that charming book—“Henderson’s tour in Iceland.” It was this which furnished the Ettrick Shepard with the matter for those descriptions of most sacred and touching beauty found in his sketches of the highlands of Scotland. It was this which furnished all the elements of that loveliest of Burns’ poems, which the world will never let die. It was this which prepared and moved the Christian patriarch, reverently to uncover his hoary head, and lead his family in the high praises of God, in the sweetest of Scotia’s holy lays. It was this that taught the old patriarch to seek for himself and for all his family around him the lessons of eternal wisdom, in the old family Bible. It was this which inspired the Christian patriarch, the husband and the father, kneeling to commend to the wisdom and care of Heaven’s high King, himself and the dear objects of his love. Well might the poet, awed by the spirit of his theme, exclaim,–

“From scenes like these old Scotia’s grandeur springs,
That makes her loved at home, revered abroad.”

But to the existence of scenes like these, every thoughtful man must know that the Kirk of Scotland, with its plain and faithful preaching, and its solemn worship and ordinances, was indispensably needful. And then in other important relations of society, beyond the family circle, on which the happiness of man greatly depends, on no other agency can he rely to ensure their proper working, but on the Divinely appointed and Divinely blessed institutions of religion. The kind and trustworthy physician, the honorable lawyer, the honest mechanic, the good neighbor, and the faithful friend, all these are schooled and disciplined, as a general truth, only in the hallowed precincts of the sanctuary. This truth has forced itself, in part, upon the conviction of even some intelligent infidels, and led them to give their countenance and patronage to religious institutions. Happy for them on to a profounder view; that, having seen the adaptation of our holy religion to the present wants of man, they had marked duly this convincing proof of its divine origin, and laid hold for themselves of its everlasting blessings, instead of being contented to glean only “the blessings which it scatters on the field of time, on its march to immortality.” As surely as man is a sinner, and as God is just, no other agency can create, and adjust, and guard from fatal injury, “the thousand ties which bind our race in gentleness together,” but the divinely appointed institutions and influences of the religion of Christ. “Here, before God, and in view of judgment and its eternal retributions, the rich and the poor meet together,” and feel that “the Lord is the Maker of them all.” And here, if anywhere, or ever, they learn the lessons of that “love,” which “worketh no ill to its neighbor,”—that “charity,” which “is the bond of perfectness.”

And then again, where but in the word of the Lord, with its statutes and its judgments, is man to find refuge and consolation in the sorrows of earth, which embitter the present, and darken all the future? God has written it as the destiny of man, and all will see its fulfillment, “if a man live many years and rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days of darkness; for they also shall be many.” The lightest and the gayest heart will be made heavy and sad, and from the sturdiest spirit will be wrung the wail, “Man was made to mourn.” No human wisdom, vigilance or labor can avail to avert the destiny. The legions of evil are around us, the bow is bent, the arrow is drawn to the head, and the shaft will ere long quiver in each heart. Now the God of all consolation, in pity to man in his peril and sadness, has given him the sanctuary, which his word with its statutes and judgments ordains, as his refuge. Here the nature and end of all affliction is expounded. And while the heart is awed by the conviction that it is no accident—no plant of bitterness springing spontaneously from the soil of earth, but God’s own appointment,–it is also soothed by the assurance that it is the Divine method of bringing the blind, by a way that they know not, to rest in his bosom. Out from the sanctuary, angel voices send forth the cheering strains,

“Come ye disconsolate, where’er ye languish,
Come, at the shrine of God fervently kneel,
Here bring your wounded hearts,
Here tell your anguish,
Earth has no sorrow which Heaven cannot heal.”

“Joy of the comfortless, light of the straying,
Hope when all others die, fadeless and pure,
Here speaks the Comforter,
In God’s name saying,
Earth has no sorrow which Heaven cannot cure.”

But there are higher and more momentous relations pertaining to man than those which concern earth and time; and when these are contemplated, the word of the Lord, and his statutes and judgments, are at once revealed as man’s grand want. We are accountable to God, and shall soon pass away from earth, and all its sorrows, and all its joys, to judgment. Earth is no home for the generations of men; and if any regard it as such, they will wrong themselves with a mighty error, which will soon become irretrievable. Since all the places which now know us will soon deny us, and welcome other occupants, to be disposed of in turn in quick succession, while we have departed to other joys or sorrows, great and eternal, we need other oracles than those which the wisdom of this world can offer, and another discipline than that which would teach us how to treasure its wealth, acquire its honors, or luxuriate in its pleasures. We want to be so trained as to meet death’s inevitable hour with peace and hope, and to render our account with joy to the Judge of all. With such an account and its retributions in prospect, how trivial are all the pursuits and interests of earth! Do my ways please God? Will heaven at last welcome me home? These questions disclose the infinite worth of the word of God, and the ordinances of religion. Here all men are gathered together in view of that which is the grand concern of all. On that hallowed day especially, which hushes the din of business, and calls man into audience with God, the man of business is reminded that he has an interest claiming his attention of infinitely greater moment than anything to which earth can summon him—his interest in the great salvation. Here buoyant youth,

“Whose pulses mad’ning play,
Wild drive them pleasure’s devious way,”

are met with the solemn warnings of life’s great issues,–death, judgment and eternity. And here the worldly wise man is called to the solution of the mighty problem,–“What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”—And, in a word, all are here called to estimate aright the significance of man’s earthly life, as a problem for eternity. And here we have disclosed to our view what clothes the word of God and the ordinances of religion with infinite dignity, and exalts to the highest our estimate of their importance:–the grand concerns of a spiritual life. They testify of the great salvation which God has provided in the face of all people. This is their direct and great subject and end. It is not that men may be favored with the best governmental institutions, and rejoice in a prosperous commonwealth; it is not to spread over domestic relations a banner of love, nor to consecrate the fellowship of good neighborhood, nor to guard and adorn an earthly paradise, nor even to soothe the sorrows of man’s mournful lot on earth. Not any of these, nor all of these combined, constitute the chief end for which God hath written unto men the great things of His word, and hallowed and blessed for him the Sabbath, and encompassed him with the instructions and warnings and promises of the sanctuary. It is that man may be a partaker of the great salvation. Man is a guilty and ruined creature, and a new relation must be established between him and his Maker, by the pardon of his sins and the renewal of his nature after the image of God, or Heaven can never know him. If this be so, what a dreadful impertinence is everything which would divert man’s chief attention from the great question of salvation; and what madness is in his heart who does not set this question before him in all his ways. But a voice sounds from the word of the Lord and his statutes and judgments, to convince men of sin, of righteousness and of judgment; to warn man that death is ever but a step from his path, and to adjure him, in the name of his pitying God and Redeemer, not to neglect the great salvation. But even those who have drawn near to God in the inner sanctuary, who are aroused to a thorough earnestness in working out their salvation, are still beset in their new spiritual career with formidable difficulties. The world is still around them with its thronging temptations, and their long unresisting subjugation to the law of sin has endowed temptation with frightful power. Often vigilance begins to slumber, the strenuous purpose falters, the bright visions of faith wane, and they are tottering to a fall. But they enter the sanctuaries of the Lord, and light from on high breaks upon them, and a purer atmosphere encompasses them. Their temptations are unmasked; keenness of sight is renewed to the eye of faith; and hope again exults in her heavenly aspirations. Here culminate the influences of the word and statutes and judgments of the Lord, in admonishing the Christian disciple to hold fast that which he has received, that no man may take his crown; in nerving him to fight the good fight of faith, that he may lay hold on eternal life; in keeping him assured that he can be made a partaker of Christ only by holding fast the beginning of his confidence steadfast unto the end; in a word, in training the child of God to be made meet to be a partaker of the heavenly inheritance in his Father’s presence for eternity.

Views, like those which we have now been considering, have doubtless influenced the Chief Magistrate, and the Gentlemen of the Senate and the House of Representatives of this Commonwealth, to the religious appointment and observances of this day. You thus express, honored Rulers, your conviction that every man, in all the relations he sustains, and in all his present and his eternal interests, owes allegiance to the word, the statutes and the judgments of the Lord, and that upon them he is to depend for the guardianship of his well being. You reverence Him who has declared—“Them that honor me I will honor, and they that despise me shall be lightly esteemed;” and of whom his prophet also has proclaimed, “the nation and the kingdom that will not serve thee shall perish; yea, those nations shall be utterly wasted.” May He, whose favor is life and whose loving kindness is better than life, vouchsafe a gracious acceptance of your worship, and grant you wisdom and grace in the discharge of your responsible duties to the State, and may his blessing prosper all the interests of our beloved Commonwealth, and delivering our nation from all its perils and oppressions, establish us in justice and in peace. May this broad land be the home of freedom, and the dwelling place of a people whom God has blessed, for thousands of generations. And may that religion, which is the best, the only effectual guardian of our social and civil institutions, and all the dear interests dependent upon them, be to us personally a light to guide and cheer our way through this earthly life, and when the shadows of earth are changed for the realities of eternity, may it be to us a preparation for our welcome reception,

“High in salvation and the climes of bliss.”

Sermon – Snow and Vapor – 1856


Cyrus Augustus Bartol (1813-1900) graduated from Harvard divinity school in 1835. He was a co-pastor with Charles Lowell at the West Church in Boston in 1837 and became the sole pastor of that church in 1861.


sermon-snow-and-vapor-1856

“SNOW AND VAPOR.”

A

SERMON

PREACHED IN THE WEST CHURCH

BY

C. A. BARTOL.

 

SERMON.

Ps. cxlviii. 8: “Snow and vapor.”

For many weeks, one universal object of sight, and subject of conversation, has been the snow; and as the snow is not only in the street, and in our talk, but also in the Bible, it may not be out of place in the pulpit. But some may say, What to do with religion has this frozen mist of the air, which, at certain seasons, comes to block up the ways, and make bad walking,—to chill the atmosphere, and require additional clothing for our warmth? There are those who allow themselves by it rather to be made irreligious; for they are even out of humor with the snow, and call it many hard names, as in it they walk staggering, or drive uneasily about; while not a few, I fear, will regard any attempt to give to it any thing like a spiritual meaning as the weakest play of fancy, and most superficial show of flowery rhetoric, quite unworthy the attention of a serious man. But evidently, to justify its introduction, I need only remind you that David elevates this creature of the snow into his choir of the divine praise; and, if he makes it worship, I may try to make it preach. For I would rather be of that sect which perceives a spiritual sense in every material thing, as in the mere mention in the Scripture of rain and dew, than belong to that other denomination of worldlings and skeptics, to whom nothing great or holy is suggested by the strong agencies, and fine motions, and visible spectacles, of the creation in which we live. Let the snow, then, in its extraordinary accumulation, be the burden of our discourse till we can humbly receive its religious teachings.

First, it impressively sets forth the divine power. “Snow and vapor,” the Psalmist well says; for snow is but vapor undergoing a change of structure as it passes out of one stratum of the atmosphere into another of different temperature. That by this simple law—which noiselessly turns a globule of moisture into a frosty flake, falling softly through the air, or borne as a feather before the wind—there should be gathered, from the treasure and boundless generation of the clouds, such an innumerable flock to whiten the ceiling of heaven and the floor of the world, making, north and south, the ocean-coast but one bank of spotless luster, and spreading westward till mountain and prairie are clad in the same thick, unblemished dress; that there should be marshaled such a mighty host of particles, each in itself insignificant, to hurl tempests athwart the unmeasured concave, more terrible and resistless than ten thousand armies with banners, rocking old ocean to its depths, and wrapping the earth in its winding-sheet, sifting down the closely folding, widely drifting substance so thick and copious from the sky, that, but for the “thus far and no farther” of God’s restraint, we should soon all be in our whited sepulchers, and all life of plant or animal gasp and die under the enormous load; this—shall I call it overwhelming avalanche from heaven, or light whirling of an instrument so delicate, to sweep the face of nature, and balk all the ability and mechanical contrivance of man—is surely a striking token of the Divine Almightiness. And it is good there should be such a demonstration of power, to convince us in and self-confident mortals that there is a Being at work, beside and above ourselves, for whom it wakens our acknowledgment and stirs our adoration. I know that this moving massive column, which the Creator wields, may seem like a scourge, as it stops the traveller on his journey, lays across the track its old bar, against which the fire-breathing engine—nothing else dare face—impotently frets its force away; puts out the lights that shine over the sea from the headlands, and blinds the poor sailor on the freezing deck or the stiffening shrouds; turns the deep into a gloomy pit, in which his laboring bark pitches to unknown ruin; casts away many a noble ship on the rocks, or founders her in the waves, and keeps back the precious cargo whose arrival would be wealth, and whose detention is poverty. I know well, from many a tale and many a sight, that, in alpine passes and fathomless ravines, its smooth and level look deceives and destroys the incautious wayfarer; that its huge piles slide in fury to overwhelm villages and plains in an instantaneous and unexpected grave; that it creeps in enormous glaciers, which I have seen and penetrated into and shuddered at, down the slopes, threatening the abodes of man; and shoots up into frowning peaks and mountains of ice, that, with eternal forbidding, warn him and his arts and cultivation for ever off. But all this is only material, bodily, worldly menace and harm. The exhibition of power that I speak of touches the soul, raises the heart’s ascriptions and doxologies to God, fetches men in fear and danger to the knees perhaps not bent before in supplication, or put anthems of deliverance on lips that had never sun, till David’s harp rings again, and our hymns flow with new meaning from our mouths; while, all over the land and the water, innumerable eyes, that had sought only pleasure or gain, look up trembling and grateful through the windows of heaven, thus terribly opened, to the Source of all things. And this, I say, is good: all these devotions or thanksgivings, born of the blast, are man’s best blessing in his tribute of awe to his Maker. Let the tempest come, if it will drive us to such refuge; let the hurricane blow, if it will make us pray; let the snow fall, if its descending lines are the pillars for our ascending thoughts! Tornado and gulf shall be welcome, if, tossed by the one or sinking in the other, we find out God. Business and intercourse are interrupted, you say. And is it not well, for such a diviner end, that their wheels, so fast and constant, should sometimes stop, restless creatures be brought to a stand, and a holy season instituted in the midst of the week? I pity the man, who, when the snow kept him one day from our temple, could not turn the hinderance itself into worship.

But it is not to ravage and lay waste that the storm is shaped from the clouds and precipitated upon the ground. The snow is a preacher of goodness as well as power, and has very important ministries, in the economy of nature, for human welfare. In our northern climate, it prevents the frost from penetrating so as to be fatal to the roots and seeds in the soil. While it appears to dart cold into every thing, it is but a garment to warm the ground; and, in polar regions, men resort, for protection from “the eager and nipping air,” to caves in the snow, which afford them comfort, and are the houses in which all their fatigues are refreshed and wants satisfied. In its melting, it fills the spr springs, and waters the fields, whose growth also, from its peculiar composition, it so stimulates and increases, that it has been called the fertilizer of the poor man’s farm. But what would be the richest landholder’s resources compared with its aid? All the labor and capital in the world could never compass the valuable ends it achieves. Are we dissatisfied with the snow? And do we wish it away, saying, as some do, We shall be glad when it is gone, and moving our foot impatiently as it slumps or slips in the road, and, it may be, indulging ourselves in some of those epithets and superfluous expletives of cursing or complaint, which arise always from our ignorance or folly, and express sometimes our impiety and sin? Or saying only, We are thankful at any signs of the winter’s breaking up, as though we could be thankful for nothing in the winter itself? But let us beware lest we cross our own interests, and maltreat our friends. The snow you spurn, dissolving in due time, and taking to itself wings from the air and the sunbeams, or making the clouds its chariot, may light in the flower whose fragrance you shall by and by inhale, or flow in the juices of the fruit or grain you shall relish. It shall run in the veins of the earth, or fly over the territory to infuse richness and drop fatness, producing verdure and blossoms and harvests, whose origin you may not suspect,—an unostentatious benefactor, concealing its gifts,—and, in the plenty it lavishes and the wide existence it creates and supports, atoning a million times over for the property or life which, in its assaults, it may have crushed. Useful beyond all estimate, exchanging its wintry pallor for summer glow, it unfolds the doctrine of love no less than of omnipotence.

But it were a poor treatment of the snow to stop with considerations of household economy. It is a preacher of beauty as much as of utility. Ye who love shining gems, behold it! Every particle of it is a perfect and magnificent crystal, in its momentary formation as exquisitely fashioned as the diamond which inconceivable ages are required subterraneously to mature. In its organization, it is as complete as any star that rides in the heavens, and sometimes lies in sight with a roundness and radiation as regular as the planetary sparkle and orb. Its fleece, the sudden production of nature, sent forth by God, as the Scripture says, like wool, is knit into a texture whose grace and delicacy no loom ever rivaled. Falling broad and gentle through the sky, what phenomenon is brighter, what meteor more attractive, what object more cheerful? Robing hill or alley, and, by its dazzling brightness, provoking comparison and contest even with the beauty of greenness and flowers, into which, at last, this Proteus of nature converts itself; crusting the trunks and branches of the forest, so that we are content they should exchange their garniture of waving leaves for such brilliance,—it would seem as if the Creator spread it out for a feast to the imagination, as well as, in its wondrous instrumentalities, for food to the palate; and that he would shut up joy for the heart, even in its sometimes biting and bitter quality, as he stores away the best of our happiness in the reservoirs of our pain and the discipline of his afflictive providence. Let not the vision, the beautiful apparition of the snow, be withdrawn till you observe the marvelous scenery with which it curtains this theatre of the world. How God himself must love beauty, and desire to feed with it his creatures, when he sends it not alone in softness on zephyrs, but with every fierce element and hard and cruel change in the creation!

I would never be fanciful in the thoughts or counsels of this place; but the snow has always, moreover, appeared to me a preacher of purity. Coming so clean and spotless from above, the most unstained of all things that ever reach the eye, it admonishes us of that raiment of innocence we should wear, and the immaculate purpose alone we should entertain. “Holy, holy, holy!” the angels cry to God; and this visible type seems to come down from above as the shadow of his holiness, and a lesson for our own purity. Yet how soon the snow is trodden under foot, contracts a soil, and flows in a muddy stream through the world! O “young men and maidens, old men and children,” let not your uncorrupted feeling be a cheap and common thing, to be thrown out by the wayside or trampled in the dirt! But as much of the snow, caught aloft on the pinnacles of temples or the summits of the earth, keeps its whiteness for ever, so maintain the purity of your heart.

I hope, in your thoughts, I trust in many of your deeds, you have anticipated one other point,—that the snow is a preacher of charity. It is God’s messenger to indicate the objects for your mercy and care, and awaken those humane affections in your breast which are the supreme blessing alike of those who cherish them and of those on whom they are fixed. Wherefore does the snow fall, but to direct you to ill-defended roofs, to the shivering poor, to unclad or houseless sufferers? What is its office but to summon you to supply the wants of unemployed laborers and hungry souls? What, indeed, does it immediately make of you, if you will, but a minister of Heaven’s bounty, with God’s gifts in your hands, seeking chambers where the fire has gone out and the board is unfurnished? Yes, the storm is your commission for that great and long war against human need and distress, grander than any war of man against his fellow-man. The snow is your investiture with the divine office of clothing the naked. Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together, in your circles of industry, so to toil for this purpose, according to Christ’s precept. Let this cold winter itself warm our hearts to the needy! He who can sit in his comfortable room, and luxuriate at his abundant table, and fold about him his costly garments, and call for his carriage to convey him whither he lists, and be utterly deaf to the exhortation of the elements, to the command from the lowering clouds, to the charge laid upon him by darkness and ice, wind and hail, to attend to the necessities of the ragged and cold and weary and famishing,—this man may be a formal worshipper, and may pass for a respectable citizen; but he disobeys precepts writ as plain on the tables of nature as on the pages of God’s word. All God’s creatures, animate and inanimate, preach to us, as well as his book; and his creature of the snow is one of the most pathetic of his monitors, and its preaching the preaching of all duty. Its preaching, did I say?—nay, its practice, active and faithful servant that it is. In what a round of well-doing it goes! How it changes its shape to accomplish its beneficent errands! It rose distilled from the sea; it formed itself in vapor; it was congregated in the cloud; it journeyed through the sky; it descended to the ground; it has departed already, or is departing, in the circuit of the divine benignity, in currents over the earth or through the air, doing good at every step, reviving and cleansing, till it reaches again the parent ocean from which it came. What an example, in its little figure, to the soul to be diligent, never resting from the works of holiness and motions of kindness, till it, too, attain to its Source!

My friends, the snow, that now admonishes us with such lessons, will one day lie on our graves. It has fallen on the graves of many dear to us. Their mounds of earth are covered with a dress that may signify to us the white robes they wear, we trust, in glory. Would we might live such lives, that the falling snow may by and by be, over our poor mortal remains, no untrue emblem of our spirit! Oh, may it then only come from the heaven to which we have gone! May its descent remind those we leave behind us that we were as diligent in God’s service as are all the elements he makes the unconscious angels of his power and love. As they muse in memory of us, may they feel that something of the unspotted simplicity of childhood was left with us when we died, and that we have ascended where nothing that defileth can come!

C. A. B.

 

Sermon – Giving – 1877


Luther Alexander Gotwald (1833-1900) gradated from Pennsylvania College in 1857 and the theological seminary there in 1859. He was preacher in many towns including: Shippensburg, Chambersburg, Labanon and York, PA and Dayton and Springfield, OH. The following sermon was preached by Gotwald in 1877 in York, PA.


sermon-giving-1877-1

THE

DIVINE RULE CONCERNING GIVING.

OR,

THE CHRISTIAN USE OF PROPERTY.

A SERMON,

BY

Rev. L. A. GOTWALD, D. D.,
PASTOR OF
St. Paul’s Ev. Lutheran Church,

YORK, PA.

 

I HAVE SHOWED YOU ALL THINGS, HOW THAT SO LABOURING YE OUGHT TO SUPPORT THE WEAK AND TO REMEMBER THE WORDS OF THE LORD JESUS, HOW HE SAID, IT IS MORE BLESSED TO GIVE THAN TO RECEIVE.

Acts 20:35.

PREFACE.
A great want in the Lutheran Church of this land is a more systematic and enlarged liberality. In purity of doctrine, in correctness of life, in integrity of character, in the graces of biblical knowledge and faith and love and holiness, she is the peer of any church upon the face of the earth. In the grace, however, of Scriptural Beneficence, she is, it must be confessed, lamentably deficient. As a church we have not yet, even approximately, come up to our possibilities, nor learned to give according to the standard of giving prescribed in the word of God. Our people, with here and there a few noble exceptions, have not yet gotten hold of the Bible truth that Christian consecration, in it full import, includes the consecration also of property to the Lord.

It is in the humble hope that it may possibly, in some slight measure, aid to correct this wrong condition of things, that the following sermon is now committed to print. It was prepared and delivered by appointment before the YORK AND ADAMS COUNTY CONFERENCE OF THE SYNOD OF WEST PENNSYLVANIA. The aim in its composition was, in the simplest possible language and in the smallest reasonable compass, to exhibit the teachings of the word of God on this Christian duty of giving. It was designed especially for the ear and heart of the laity, and with the wish, if possible, to stir up their pure minds to a realization of the great things which God, in this respect, requires from them. And with this design, and with this purpose of thus addressing the noble men and women of our churches, it is also now published.

The sermon is not “published by request,” neither of congregation nor conference nor synod. The only one who has requested its publication is the author himself. And this his own request he complies with from no other motive than the desire to help forward all he can the various benevolent activities of the church to which he belongs and which he loves as he loves his own life.

Being published and distributed gratuitously he asks only the small favor that each one to whom it may be sent will carefully read it, with a mind open to conviction, and with a heart willing promptly to comply with whatever is established from the word of God as Christian duty; for, in the language of our own precious Luther, “God has given to us the measuring line of His own word, and they that lie and do thereafter, well it is for them, for God will richly reward them both in this life and in the life to come.”

York, PA., August 23d, 1877.

SERMON.
“NOW CONCERNING THE COLLECTION FOR THE SAINTS, AS I HAVE GIVEN ORDER TO THE CHURCHES OF GALATIA, EVEN SO DO YE.

UPON THE FIRST DAY OF THE WEEK LET EVERY ONE OF YOU LAY BY HIM IN STORE, AS GOD HATH PROSPERED HIM, THAT THERE BE NO GATHERING WHEN I COME.” 1ST Cor. 16: 1-2.

This text is an expression of the Scriptural Rule of Beneficence.

Concerning this rule it may, in a preliminary way, be remarked that it is given, not as mere advice, which we are at liberty either to heed or to disregard, but that it comes to us clothed with divine authority and in the form of an emphatic and positive divine command. Paul wrote this epistle, as he wrote all his other epistles, under the direct inspiration of the Holy Ghost.—His words, therefore, are God’s words. And hence, when, in enunciating this Rule, he here says:—“I have given order or command to the churches to lay aside systematic contributions for religious or charitable purposes,” we must receive what he says as the command or order to us of God Himself, a divine law which possesses the same binding force and obligation which is possessed by any other divine law.

It may also, as a preliminary thought, be further observed, that this Scriptural Rule of Beneficence, as here stated by the Apostle, is universal in its application, or, in other words, is binding upon all Christians, and upon one church as much as it is upon another. For this epistle, it may be noticed, is addressed not alone to the Corinthian Christians, but “to all that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ our Lord both theirs and ours.” Besides, the Apostle here expressly says that this same rule which he thus gives to the Corinthian church, he had also given “to the churches of Galatia.” And, in addition to all this, it might be well asked, if this rule or law is not perpetual and binding upon the present Christian churches, as much as upon those to whom the Apostle spoke and wrote, then what scriptural rule or law is thus perpetual or binding? If this rule is local and temporal, in its application, then what rule, in the whole canon of the word of God, is not? This rule of Christian beneficence, here addressed to the Corinthian Christians, we must, therefore, regard as being, also, directly and personally addressed to each one of us, and in these words we must hear not the Apostle only, but God Himself saying to us all, “at certain stated times, let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him:”

But let us now turn to an analysis and careful consideration of the Rule itself. In looking at it, I notice—

I. That it involves the element of Intelligence, or a knowledge of the specific objects claiming Christian Beneficence. The object toward which these Corinthian Christians were here asked to give was the relief of the poor saints at Jerusalem. This object the Apostle had fully explained to them; had shown them the need of these their suffering fellow Christians; had exhibited to them their obligations toward them; and had given to them such a clear and intelligent statement of the case that they fully understood all concerning it.—(2 Cor. 8: 10; 9: 2, 5.).

They were not only asked to give, but to give intelligently, and they were first thus made intelligent with regard to the object in order that they might and would cheerfully and liberally give.

This scriptural rule of beneficence, embraces, then, as a first element, intelligence. Christians, in giving to religious objects, should know what those objects are. They should be informed with regard to their precise character, their aims, their history, the extent of their operations, their success, their hindrances, their possibilities, their merits, their claims. And hence every Christian should, in every possible way, seek to make himself intelligent with regard to all church work. To this end he should study the doctrines and polity of his church. He should be familiar with her history. He should acquaint himself with all her institutions and organizations for the prosecution of the cause of Christ. He should be a student of her literature. He should, week after week, through her various journals, inform himself of what the church, both at home and in heathen lands, is seeking to do for the world’s conversion. He should also carefully read the proceedings of her Synods, and especially of her General Synod, and thus learn what the combined wisdom of the church adopts and recommends as the best methods of doing good. And to this end, also, there rests a most emphatic duty upon every minister of the church. The priests lips should keep knowledge and the people should seek the law at his mouth, for he is the messenger of the Lord of Hosts.”—(Malachi 2:7.) The minister is the people’s teacher. His duty is to instruct them. And his duty is to instruct them in respect to this grace of giving, as much as in respect to the other graces of a Christian character. “I will give you pastors according to my heart which shall feed you with knowledge and understanding.”—(Jer. 3:15.) “My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge: because thou hast rejected knowledge, I will also reject thee, that thou shalt be no priest to me: seeing thou hast forgotten the law of thy God, I will also forget thy children.”—(Hosea 4:6.)

It is his duty fully and repeatedly to speak to his people, both from the pulpit and in their homes, with regard to our church periodicals, our Colleges and Theological Seminaries, our system of Beneficiary Education, our struggling cause of Home and Foreign Missions, our Church Extension work, and every other good object appealing to the church for help. This, I repeat, is every gospel minister’s most sacred duty. He owes it to himself as a true man worthy of his position. He owes it to the church which has entrusted him with her interests, and ordained him as one of her helpers and leaders. He owes it to his own people who have chosen him as their religious guide and look to him for a knowledge of their duty. He owes it to his own people who have chosen him as their religious guide and look to him for a knowledge of their duty. He owes it to the world, perishing for the want of the gospel. And he owes it, above all, to Christ, whose ambassador he declares himself to be. Alas! That so many notwithstanding all these obligations, are yet so derelict in their duty in this respect!

But, I notice

II. That this Scriptural Rule of Beneficence, as here expressed, embraces, also, the element of Voluntariness. The divine command is here most clear and positive. But obedience to the command, like obedience to every other divine command, is left as a voluntary matter with us. Each one, hearing the command, is free to give or not give; and, if he gives, it is with him also to decide how much or how little he will give. God compels no one to give. Giving is every where in the Bible left as a voluntary matter with ourselves, and its moral value is, indeed, largely dependent on its being thus purely voluntary. God tells us our duty, shows us His claims upon us, asks us for our gifts, tells us that He is pleased with the grace of liberality and that He will bless us in return for it, and even commands us to bring our gifts and lay them on His altar. But there He stops. There is no compulsion to give. Our giving must be voluntary. It must be our own cheerful and self-willed act. It must come as a ready and spontaneous expression of our piety and love to God. To be acceptable giving—to be, as it should, true and scriptural and genuinely Christian giving—it must have in it preeminently the element of heartiness, of deep gratitude, of joy in giving. It must partake of the nature of worship, offering to God our gifts as an act of thankful affection toward Him, bringing them to Him as a grateful return for all the infinite goodness which He has bestowed upon us. We must give because we love to give, and feel glad that we have the privilege of giving. There must be entire voluntariness, I repeat, in it. As the Apostle says: “Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly nor of necessity; for God loveth a cheerful giver.” And so, here in our text, it is as their own unrestrained and voluntary act that the Apostle asks these Corinthian Christians to give. “Let,” he says, “every one give. Let each one, as his own free, happy Christian act, on each first day of the week, lay by him, in store, as God hat prospered him!”

I notice, however,

III. That this Scriptural Rule of Beneficence, as here expressed in our text, includes especially the element of Regularity or System. The Apostle not only here enjoins upon these Christians at Corinth to give, but to have also a specific and regular time to give. “Upon the first day of the week,” as a regular and fixed habit, attending to it as punctually and faithfully as you attend to the duty of prayer or going to God’s house or reading God’s word, attend also to this duty of giving. “As ye,” he says, “abound in faith, and utterance, and knowledge, and diligence, and love, see that ye abound in this grace of liberality also.” He does not say to them, “Wait until some agent with a subscription book visits your congregation; Or wait until some eloquent preacher occupies your pulpit and in pathetic terms forces your duty upon you and, almost against your will, persuades you to give; Or wait until I come, and with the electric force of my eloquence, backed by my apostolic authority and power, set before you the different benevolent operations of the church, and play upon your sympathies, or perhaps touch your vanity, and excite your rivalry, and thus move you to give. No! He said nothing of that kind to them. What Paul wanted was not one single large collection, extorted by eloquence or persuasion, and followed perhaps by a terrible reaction and by a long withholding of liberality from all benevolent objects. Not this did he want. On the contrary, he aimed to establish in the Corinthian church a permanent system of liberality, a conscientious habit of giving, an abiding rule of benevolence. What he wanted was that each one, as a matter of pure Christian principle, as an act of worship, (for giving is worship) without agencies or appeals or pressure from without of any kind, but moved to it simply out of love to God and desire for his glory, should upon every recurring Lord’s Day, as part of the religious service of that day, make an offering of his means towards the furtherance of religious and Christian objects, “As I have given order to the churches of Galatia, even so do ye.’ How? Why thus: “Upon the first day of the week,” upon the Lord’s Day, the day when He rose for thee from the dead and finished the work of thy redemption, upon the day when above all other days thy mind is calm and thy heart is warm under the beams of the Sun of Righteousness shining fully upon thee, upon the blessed Lord’s Day, “let every one of you,” young and old, rich and poor, male and female, parents and children, “lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come.”

Now, with the very letter of this rule some of us will, most likely, not be able to comply; and yet with the principle or spirit of it, we all both can and ought to comply. The letter of the rule demands that regularly, on every Lord’s day, we should lay aside, out of the income of the preceding week, a certain proportion for God. But, by many of us, our income is not received weekly, but monthly, or quarterly, or annually. By others their income is not fixed at all, neither in respect to time nor amount, but is entirely dependent upon the success of certain enterprises or investments. And hence with the exact and literal requirements of this scriptural rule but few of us can comply. But with the essential principle or spirit of this law we all can comply, and ought to comply. And what is the principle or spirit of this law? Simply this:—that at certain stated times, if possible on every Lord’s Day, and if not then whenever it is possible, each Christian, without exception, shall lay aside for religious and charitable purposes, a certain proportion of his net earning, profit, income, or capital, thus having a separate and sacred fund for the Lord, and thus always having something on hand to give as the various appeals for the cause of Christ and humanity are presented to him. A mechanic, e. g., one who receives his wages regularly every week, should also, according to this inspired Law of Beneficence, every week, i. e., every Lord’s Day, take out of the week’s wages which he thus receives a certain conscientiously determined portion and lay it aside, or put it away in some secure place, as the Lord’s money, to be cheerfully and liberally given, whenever called upon, for the Lord’s cause. The clerk, or mechanic, or minister, who receives his salary monthly or quarterly or semi-annually should also monthly or quarterly or semi-annually make such a deposit for the Lord. The farmer whose full returns are received only at the end of the year, should at the end of the year, or at least once sometime in the year, make such a settlement with the Lord. And the merchant, the tradesman, the banker, and others, whose incomes vary, both in time and amount, should all conscientiously determine beforehand what amount of their gains they will give to the Lord, and then, as those gains are received, honestly and faithfully, also, deposit in the Lord’s funds the exact amount which they had thus determined upon giving. In other words, this whole matter of giving ought, by every Christian, to be reduced to a regular and rigid system; prompted on the one hand wholly by love and gratitude to God, and zeal for the cause of Christ, and yet carried out on the other hand, upon the most rigid business principles. As an illustration I may here rehearse an example or two of this conception of giving from my own pastoral experience.

The first case of the now sainted Mr. W., of S., a business man, not given to much religious demonstration, but a man of eminent integrity of character, and whose memory is very precious to me. He was always a cheerful and liberal giver. I often asked him for contributions toward various benevolent objects, and was never rebuffed nor refused; his only question ever being, “How much ought I to give?” Sitting with him in his office one day, and conversing on this subject of benevolence, I said in substance to him, “Mr. W. I often ask you for money for religious and charitable purposes, and you always give and give liberally. May I ask you how you manage to be able always to do so? Have you a plan or system in your beneficence?” Turning in his chair, and pointing to one corner of the room, he said to me, “Do you see that safe? In that safe is a secret drawer. That drawer is marked “The Lords’ Drawer.” Into that drawer, at the end of each week, I deposit, as nearly as I can estimate it correctly, the one-tenth of all that I have made during that week. I do this as regularly and systematically as I attend to any other business transaction—for that I regard also as business, my business with the Lord. Having once thus deposited money in that drawer I then regard that money as no longer in any sense mine. It is the Lord’s. I am simply the custodian and disposer of it. And hence when you, or any other of the Lord’s accredited agents call upon me, and say that the Lord sent you here for some of His money in my hands, it is the easiest thing in the world, and a most pleasant thing also, to go right there to that drawer, and pay out to the Lord His own money—not mine, but His. That, sir, is my plan, and that is how I always have something to give. How much did you say you wanted to-day.”

A second case is that of a gentleman whose very initials I shall conceal, since he is still living, and with true Christian modesty prefers that his left hand should not know what his right hand does for Christ and His church. Some ten years ago he made a certain investment involving considerable financial risk. Before doing so, however, he made the whole matter a subject of earnest prayer. He also solemnly covenanted with God that the one-tenth of all that he made, whether much or little, should be given to religious uses. And to bind himself as solemnly as possible to this covenant, and to prevent his selfishness from possibly afterward gaining the mastery over him and lead him to break it, he wrote it out, and on his knees subscribed it, and then laid it away as a witness against himself in the future Eight months passed. The transaction proved eminently successful. He cleared on his investment about seventy-five thousand dollars. And so one day, he came to my study, related to me the whole matter from beginning to end, and asked me to direct him in distributing most beneficially the sum of seven thousand five hundred dollars, the one-tenth of what he had made, among the leading benevolent objects of the church. The task was a delightful one both to him and me, and one which I would love often to repeat.

Both these cases reveal the moral and spiritual sublimity of true Christian giving, and show how constant and large with God’s blessing, our benefactions may be if we learn once to give from religious principle and in rigid compliance with an intelligent system.

There being thus this necessity and obligation for plan or system in individual beneficence, it is also, of course, highly important that there should be plan and regularity with regard to it established in each of our congregations. There should in each church be some system adopted by which in turn each one of the leading benevolent objects will be brought from the pulpit to the attention of the people, and by which at certain fixed times every member will be called upon to make his contribution to these objects. And yet in most of our churches, and especially in many of our large and wealthy congregations in the country, there is no such system at all, and no attempt whatever on the part of the pastors to establish such a system. All is left to the mere chances of the passing occasion. In some of our congregations there is but one collection taken for benevolent purposes during the whole year, called the “Harvest Collection,” a collection which at best is meager enough, and which often, if the weather should chance to be bad, or from some other cause the congregation should be small, amounts to nothing at all. And that one collection, on that one day, expresses the sum total of the benevolent work and of the liberality of three or four or five hundred Lutheran Christians for one whole year!

Now, all this could easily be remedied by the introduction of some plan of beneficence such as I have suggested above. Among the various plans which have been successfully introduced in many of our churches are the following:

1. The Box System, recommended and fully endorsed by our General Synod of 1871, at Dayton, Ohio.

2. The Envelope System, which differs nothing in principle from the Box System, but only in the receptacle into which contributions are deposited.

3. The Committee System, where stated contributions are gathered regularly by a committee, being the same in principle a the Box and Envelope Systems.

And to indicate how important our General Synod regards system in this matter of beneficence, that body at its last meeting in Carthage Illinois, passed unanimously the following resolution, viz:

Resolved, That all the Synods in connection with this General Synod be, and are hereby, urged to propose some such plan as those just enumerated to every congregation under their jurisdiction, and that the chairman of each delegation now in attendance be entrusted with the presentation of this resolution to his synod.” (See Minutes, page 31.)

I notice now yet—

IV. That this Scriptural Rule of Beneficence involves the element also of Proportion according to Ability. “Let everyone,” says our text, “lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him.” And elsewhere we are commanded to give, “every man according to his several ability.” And again, “according to the ability that God giveth.” And then, once more, we are told that “if there be first a willing mind, it is accepted according to that a man hath, and not according to he hath not.

Now, in these and in similar passages of the word of God, it is implied, first, that every Christian can give something; and it is declared, secondly, that each one should give in proportion to his means or ability to give. The question, therefore, to be determined is, What is each one’s ability? How much relatively can and ought a Christian to give to the Lord?

Under the Old Testament dispensation the pious Jew was divinely required to give much. He was required to give the first fruits both of his flocks and his field. He was required, also, to ransom with money his first born child. He was required, in reaping his fields, to leave the corners for the poor. Whatever fell from the reapers hands he was also required to leave for the poor. Then, every seventh year, all his fields were to be left uncultivated, and whatever grew spontaneously he was required to give to the poor. Then one-tenth, also, of all the products of his field he was annually required to give to the Levites who had no land assigned them. Then there were trespass offerings, and sin offerings, and peace offerings, and many other costly sacrifices, all of which he was required to bring. Then, every fiftieth year, or every year of Jubilee, all debts had to be remitted. And then, also, there were frequent and costly journeys to Jerusalem which he was required to make, and various gifts to the temple which he was required to offer. Adding all of which together, each Jew must, by divine requirement, have given annually, for religious purposes, at least one-third of all his income! We may call this a large proportion. But it was the proportion, let us remember, which God Himself required. And it is remarkable that, just in proportion as the Jewish people, complied with this requirement, God also prospered them. Such was the divine standard of liberality among God’s ancient people the Jews. Taking, therefore, this Old Testament standard as the measure by which to estimate our duty, we learn from it that each one of us, ought to give, at least, one-third of all our earnings or income to the Lord.

But we are not, you say, Jews: we are Christians. Turn with me, then, to the conduct in this respect of the early Christians, or of the apostolic or primitive church. What proportion, let us ask, of their wealth or income did they give to the cause of Christ? They, I answer, gave all they had. Listen! “And all that believed were together, and had all things common, and sold their possessions and goods and parted them to all men as every man had need!” Now, I do not understand this passage to teach that each one of these early Christians literally sold all his property, and placed the proceeds in one common treasure, out of which all were then fed and clothed. No. The existence of no such community system, or common stock company, is here taught. For, as the sequel teaches, and as we are told in various other places, the early Christians, with comparatively few exceptions, continued in their own homes and retained their properties. And the Apostle expressly declares: “If any man provide not for his own, and especially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel!” The passage, then, simply means that they held their possessions as dedicated supremely and first of all to Christ, and even occasionally for this purpose sold some of their property, parting sometimes, as in the case of Barnabas, with their lands and homes, in order that they might be the more able to give, feeling that their wealth was not their own but the Lord’s, and that they, as His stewards, should use what He had thus entrusted to them purely for His glory. The spirit of the early Christians, then, was a spirit of entire consecration both of themselves and their property to Christ and to the glory of God. They first gave themselves to God, and with themselves they also gave all they had to him. “Moreover, brethren we do you to wit of the grace of God bestowed on the churches of Macedonia; How, that, in a great trial of affliction, the abundance of their joy and their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality. For to their power, I bear record, yea, and beyond their power hey were willing of themselves; Praying us with much entreaty that he would receive the gift, and take upon us the fellowship of the ministering to the saints. And this they did, not as we hoped, but first gave their own selves to the Lord, and unto us by the will of God.—(2 Cor. 8:1-5.)

And this spirit, now, of those early Christians, thus holding their wealth as consecrated to Christ, it is our duty as Christians also to possess. Not to sell all, and at once give all, and then have no more to give, but to feel that all we have is God’s, and that it is all only entrusted to our care to be used, as occasion or opportunity presents itself, for the good of our fellow men and for the glory of God. This, I say, is the view of property which every Christian now ought to take; for this is the true, the scriptural, the New Testament view of it.

Guided, then, by the requirements of God from his ancient people the Jews, and guided especially by the spirit and conduct of the early Christians and guided in addition by the entire genius of Christianity, and the universal teaching of God’s word with regard to the use of property, we may lay down for ourselves the following rules by which to determine how much each one of us is able to give to the cause of Christ. And—

a. We ought to give according to the sum total of our property or capital. This is, the rich must give a larger proportion of their income than the poor. A poor widow, e.g., with a dependent family, cannot afford, in justice to herself, to give the one-tenth of all her earnings, simply because, by doing so, she would be depriving her children of their very bread, and hence God does not require her to give that proportion. A widow’s mite, or just whatever she can, in justice to herself and children, give, that, and that only, God asks her to give. But with the rich man or the man in good circumstances, the case is entirely different, and the duty therefore is also different. He can give, not only the one-tenth of all his income, but much more. He can give the one-fourth, or the one-half, or the three-fourths, or even all of his income, beyond his expenses of living, and even part of his very capital itself, because his means of support will still be abundant. In other words, the greater a man’s wealth or capital, the larger also must be, not simply the naked amount which he gives, compared with the amount which the poor give, but the larger also must be the amount in proportion to his income, or the amount as compared with the sum total of his wealth. 1 And hence the rule which was adopted by Mr. Cobb, a merchant of Boston, whose case is familiar to us all, was eminently proper and Christian. When he became a Christian he resolved, and upon his knees solemnly pledged himself to give one-fourth of his net profits to the lord. If ever worth $20,000, he resolved to give one-half of the net profits. If ever he should acquire $30,000, he resolved to give three-fourths of his net income to the Lord. And if ever he should become worth $50,000, he resolved to give after that all his net profits to the Lord. And this resolution he sacredly kept, never allowing himself to become worth more than $50,000, always giving in proportion to his increasing wealth until it reached the sum upon which he had thus determined and then afterward, to the day of his death, giving all that he made. This, then, is the first rule by which to determine how much to give, viz: each one ought to give in proportion to the sum total of his wealth, and he ought, when once he has acquired a certain conscientiously determined sum, then afterward give all his income, above his expenses, to the Lord.

b. A second rule which we may deduce from what was said, to guide us in the duty of giving, is: That each one of us ought to give according to the amount of our income or wages. Most persons have nothing save their daily earnings. Their wages is their all. The ability of such persons to give is, of course, determined entirely by the amount of wages they receive, and the expense of living to which they are subject. The hard working mechanic, e.g., with a large family to support, and who receives only perhaps a dollar a day, is able, like the widow, to cast in only two mites into the treasure of the Lord. But, if now his wages should, in the good providence of God, is doubled, then also should his contributions be doubled. As his wages increase so also should his liberality increase. For according to his ability is also his obligation. And so with every one. Increase in salary or wages increases the ability, and, with the ability, the obligation, to give. The case often quoted of John Wesley is a case right in point. Reducing his expenses to the lowest possible figure, when his income was L30 a year, he lived on L28, and gave away L2. The next year his income increased to L60, but he still lied on L28, and gave away L32. The third year his income had increased to L120, but, still true to his plan, he lived on L28, and gave away L92. And, at the time of his death, by following out this principle of increasing his liberality with each increase of his salary, he had given away to benevolent objects the large sum of over one hundred thousand dollars in our money.

c. A third rule which we may lay down for our government in this matter is: That we ought to give according to what our ability might be by industry and economy. There are many professing Christians who lack industry, who spend much of their time in thriftless idleness, and who, in consequence, never accumulate what they might accumulate, and who therefore have not the ability to give which they might have. And so, also, with many there is a lack of the Christian grace of economy, with whom extravagance is a besetting sin, and who, on this account, lack the ability, or at least, the disposition to give to the name of Christ. Now, the scriptural idea is that a Christian is not to bury his Lord’s talent, nor is he to waste it, but, by industry or economy, he is to increase it, out of two pounds making five, and out of five making ten, and thus by increase of his wealth increase his ability with wealth to do good. And hence it is doubtful whether our Christian business men, no matter what amount of wealth they may have accumulated, have ever the moral right, for the mere sake of their personal ease, and with no necessity laid upon them by broken health or other compulsory causes, to “retire from business.” Their business knowledge and tact and capacity are talents, and these talents, as long as possible, should be used to make money for the Lord. “I have showed you all things, how that so laboring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord, how He said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35.) “Not slothful in business; fervent in spirit; serving the Lord.” (Rom. 12:11.)

This, then, is another principle by which we may determine how much we ought to give. Our duty is, by industry and economy, to make ourselves as able as possible to give to the cause of Christ. And it is amazing how much one can save, and gather, in the course of a year, if only one has a will to do so. As an illustration, a poor shoemaker being asked how he continued to give as much as he did, replied that it was all easily done by simply heeding the apostle’s directions as here given in our text. “I earn,” said he, “one day with another, about a dollar a day, and I can, without inconvenience to myself or family, a lay by five cents a day out of it for charitable purposes; the amount of which each week is thirty cents. My wife takes in dewing and washing, and earns something like two dollars a week, out of which she lays by ten cents. My children each earn a shilling or two occasionally, and are glad to add their penny to ours; so that altogether we lay by us in store forty cents a week, which in the course of a year amounts to twenty dollars and eighty cents.” Now, this illustration shows us how much even the poorest, if they will, may gather, by industry and rigid economy, to give to the Lord.

d. But we may derive for ourselves still one other rule by which to ascertain our duty in respect to this matter of giving, viz: That each one of us ought to give all that we can possibly spare by self-denial and positive personal sacrifice! The duty to practice self-denial in order to be able to give, is taught us all through the word of God. It is taught us by example. Look at the example of God’s ancient people in the offerings they brought for the erection of the tabernacle. “And they spake unto Moses, saying, The people bring much more than enough for the service of the work which the Lord commanded to make. And Moses gave commandment, and they caused it to be proclaimed throughout the camp, saying, Let neither man nor woman make any more work for the offering of the sanctuary. So the people were restrained from bringing. For the stuff they had was sufficient for all the work to make it, and too much.—(Exodus 36:3-7.) Or look at the example of those noble Macedonian Christians to whom Paul (2 Cor. 8:2.) refers. Or look at the example of the Christians at Philippi concerning whom the same Apostle says, (Phil. 4:16.) “Ye sent once and again unto my necessity.” Or look at the example of the noble Apostles, who counted not even their live dear unto themselves, but rejoiced to suffer the loss of all things that they might save souls. (Acts 20:24.) Or look, above all, at the example of Jesus Himself, who, though He was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, that we through His poverty might become rich. (2 Cor. 8:9.) And not by example only, but by direct precept, also, is this duty taught us. For hear what the Master said to the rich young man, “Yet lackest thou one thing; sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come follow me.” (Luke 18:23.) And hear what He says to His disciples, “But rather give alms of such things as ye have, and behold all things are clean unto you.” (Luke 11:41.) “Sell that ye have, and give alms, provide yourselves bags which wax not old, a treasure in the heavens that faileth not, where no thief approacheth, neither moth corrupteth.” (Luke 12:32.) “Deny thyself, take up thy cross, and follow Me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it; but whosoever shall lose his life for my sake and the Gospel’s, the same shall save it.”—(Mark 8:34-35.)

And this duty, indeed, the whole spirit or genius of Christianity inculcates; for the very life of our holy religion is a life of love and self-surrender and willing sacrifice for the good of others. Self-denial for the cause of Christ, is, then, a Christian duty binding upon all who call themselves disciples of Jesus. And hence all that, in justice to certain other rightful claims upon me, I can spare by the practice of self-denial it is also my duty thus to spare. All, e.g., that I can thus spare by denying myself extravagant articles of food and clothing; all that I can spare by denying myself extravagant enjoyments and indulgence; all especially that I can spare by denying myself mere luxuries and gratifications of appetite; all this, if I would come up to the full measure of the Bible standard of my Christian duty in this respect, I must also, by self denial thus spare. I am to deny myself! I am to make sacrifices! My benevolence, like that of the Apostles, and especially like that of Jesus, is to cost me something! I must give until I feel it, and feel it deeply; give, until I can really give no more! Then, and then only, will I have given as much as I ought to give!

“Give! As the morning that flows out of heaven;
Give! As the waves when their channel is riven;
Give! As the free air and sunshine are given;
Lavishly, utterly, joyfully give.
Not the waste drops of thy cup overflowing,
Not the faint sparks of thy hearth ever glowing,
Not a pale bud from the June roses blooming,
Give as He gives who gave thee Himself!”

This expression of each one of us ought to give towards the support and spread of the gospel all he “can” give, and that he ought to give “until he can give no more,” may possibly seem extravagant and unwarranted by the word of God, Let it only, however, he rightly understood, and it will not seem so. The claims of the gospel and of the church are not the only just claims held against us. There are, on the contrary, many other claims, claims grounded in the very constitution of our being and which we owe to ourselves, and claims springing from our relationships and surroundings and which we owe to our fellow men, and these claims it is also our duty to meet as well as those of the gospel. We possess, e. g., a physical nature, which claims from us regard for our health and which makes at certain times been costly recreation a duty; an intellectual nature which claims from us culture in the expenditure of money for education and travel and books; an aesthetic nature which claims gratification in costly objects of beauty and works of taste and art; a social nature which relates us to the community and the state and which in each of these relations lays claims upon our liberality; and a domestic nature which assigns us our place in the circle of home and brings us under obligations to those who are there dependent upon us. And this manifold nature, with which we are all thus endowed, God himself, as our creator, has given us as much as He has given to us the gospel and the church, and these also He requires us, within certain just bounds of moderation, to honor and meet as much as He expects us to honor and meet the claims of the gospel and church. Indeed, a full-orbed piety takes in all these various relations, and a truly symmetrical and well-balanced Christian is one who, guided by heavenly wisdom, has learned how rightly to adjust the claims upon him both of the things of time and eternity.

Both the ability and the obligation of the Christian, therefore, to give toward the furtherance of the cause of Christ, or, in other words, the claims upon him of the gospel, are modified by these various other claims which are thus, in the divine order of things, laid upon him. And hence the question What is the measure of my personal obligation with my means to aid the spread of the gospel, or, in other words, the question How much and in what things must I deny myself in order to be able to help onward the gospel, this, I say, is a question which must and can be determined by each individual Christian himself alone.—Its solution falls purely within the sphere of Christian casuistry. It is a matter for each one’s own conscience enlightened by the word of God and sanctified by divine grace, to decide. Weighing, on the one hand, with moderation the relative value of all earthly and merely temporal claims upon him, and weighing well, on the other, the infinite value of the gospel, the perishing world’s great need of it, the ability which God has given him to relieve this need, the mighty love of Christ in seeking and saving him, and his incalculable indebtedness to this love for all the happiness which he now enjoys and for all for which he hopes in the life to come, he must himself determine how much of his means he owes unto the Lord and how much of it he is justifiable in expending for things of earth, for his dwelling, for furniture, for dress, for recreation, for tobacco, for statuary, for paintings, for horses and carriages, for eating and drinking. All must be settled at the bar of his own enlightened individual conscience. He is God’s steward, and must give account, and it is to his own Master that he standeth or falleth. And hence, as the Apostle to the Gentiles admonishes “Happy is he that condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth.” Or as the Apostle John expresses it: “Beloved, if our heart (our conscience) condemns us not, then have we confidence toward God.”

And the question here also suggests itself forcibly whether more of our Lutherans who possess wealth should not also, in addition to thus giving liberally while they live, remember our various church enterprises also in their “last wills and testaments?” What munificent bequests are made, from time to time, by Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, and Episcopalians to the Boards of Missions and Education, or to the Seminaries and Colleges, or to some other enterprise of their respective churches. How rarely however, that any of our wealthy Lutherans thus leave their money, or any part of it, to aid the Lutheran Church after they are gone, in building up the Master’s Kingdom in the world! Shall it always be so?

“There are many rich men and women, some with no natural heirs, who content themselves while they live with very limited and circumscribed contributions to the Church which has reared them, and die without leaving to it a dollar of their abundant means. Surely our great cause deserves better from its own children, whom God has prospered that they might do liberal things for it. Surely also, there is need for such assistance, considering the very infirm and struggling condition of our enterprises, institutions and operations.

We therefore take occasion again to call the attention of those who are blessed with means, and whom the church has blest with all their immortal hopes, and who expect from that same church the future perpetuation of what they consider best and purest in religion and piety, not to forget the claims that are upon them from this source, and to learn to be considerate and liberal in setting apart reasonable portions of their accumulations for the Lord and His needy Church. If gifts and contributions must needs be narrowed, limited and stinted during life, let there be timely provision made that the church may not be deprived of its rightful share in these estates when their favored proprietors have gone to give an account of their stewardship to the Great Judge of all.

It is also important to remember in this connection that in some of the States, bequests to charitable or religious purposes, or institutions are null and void in the law, unless made some months previous to death. Any one, therefore, who is contemplating the devise of legacies to benevolent or church purposes should lose no time in making a will to that effect, lest the law should step in at last and completely thwart and nullify all these benevolent and pious intentions so unwisely delayed to the last extremity. It will not bring death any sooner to be ready for it, and to have all these matters duly arranged at once. Ye men and women of wealth and fortune, God expects liberal things of you. See to it that ye be not undutiful in your stewardship!” 2

May the Holy Spirit give to each one of us an instructed and honest conscience with regard to the right and true Christian use of our property, and may not, in the day of judgment, our conscience be, in this respect, a witness to testify against us!

And now, if we all were only thus willing to give, how vastly might not the benevolent contributions of each one of us be increased. How much more we all might thus give. And what abundant streams of wealth would then flow into the treasury of the Lord, and how all the various agencies of the church would then have more than means sufficient for all their needs.

This, then, is the Scriptural Rule of Beneficence! This is God’s requirement from us in regard to this grace of Christian Giving! This is our duty, as here expressed by the pen of inspiration itself; “Upon the first day of the week, let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him.” And this is the duty of all—of one as much as of another—of you, and of me, and of every one who calls himself a Christian. By the last and great commission of the Saviour bidding us go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature, by the command of God’s word repeated upon almost every inspired page, by the examples of the saints in the centuries past, 3 by the goodness to us of God, by the love even unto death of Christ, by the moral needs of the world perishing in its sins, by the welfare of the church asking and pleading for our help, by the gratitude we owe for what grace has done for us, by the ability which God has bestowed upon us, by our hope of heaven, by the value of souls, by the account we must render in the great Day of Judgment, by all these considerations, the duty is most solemnly imposed upon every one of us who loves the name of Christ, to the fullest possible extent of our ability, to give of our income toward the support and universal spread of the gospel. “The love of Christ should constrain us, and we should thus judge that if One (Christ) died for all then were all dead: and that He died for all that they who live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto Him who died for them and rose again.”—(2 Cor. 5: 14-15.)

And, must at this present time, is it especially our duty to give liberally of our means to the cause of Christ. For now, more than ever before in our whole history, God is giving to us, as a church, most glorious opportunities to do good. Both at home and abroad He is throwing open before us wide doors of Christian usefulness, such as the very angels would rejoice to enter. And yet now more than ever, compared with the work thus providentially assigned us, the needed means are wanting. Our various benevolent treasuries are, almost without exception, impoverished, and are hindered in their labors because of this one lack—the lack of money. Our Foreign Mission Boards are laden heavily with debt, and their appeal for relief is but slowly responded to by the churches. Our work of Home Missions is limited to the small number of only forty mission point, whereas if the means necessary were supplied the number could quickly be multiplied to ten times forty. Our Church Extension Board, for lack of means, are compelled to decline repeated and most deserving applications for assistance. Our Colleges and Seminaries all need increased endowments, and could vastly enlarge their power for good if only they had increased funds with which to carry on their operations. Our work, also, of Beneficiary Education is in the same sad condition: its treasury being already overdrawn, and pious and talented young men who offer themselves to the church to study for the ministry are turned away, for the mere want of money. And so is it with almost all our church enterprises. They all need money!—They are all standing still, or going back, or even dying out, and all only because of this one ever present lack—the lack of money! Cry after cry comes up for help! Appeal upon appeal, pressing and tender and touching, from Africa and India and Japan, and from all the Great West and the vast South of our land, fill and crowd the columns of each number of our religious journals. Oh, our Lutheran church has, in the orderings of Divine Providence, opened up to her to-day an almost boundless field of opportunities. Here are grand possibilities. The field is white unto the harvest, and God is calling to her loudly and bidding her enter it, and save the golden grain by garnering it for Him. And as I have already said, there is but one lack which stands as a hindrance to the accomplishment of it all: the lack of money. Oh what a humiliating spectacle! What a mortifying confession this is to make. The world everywhere ready to be brought to Christ, and the church of Christ clutching her gold, and because of the cost refusing to heed the divine voice which thus summons her to her duty!

But, there is a cause for all this. Back of this lack of money there is another and a more vital lack, and the source of all this lack of liberality which is thus, to day, everywhere hindering and crippling and killing the activeness of the church. It is the great lack of real and supreme Christian Love. There is not in our hearts, as there should be, an over mastering love for souls, for the church, for Christ. We have not yet come under the full expulsive power of the gospel, driving the world as an object of supreme affection out from the temple of our souls, and enthroning Jesus there as our one and only Lord and King. Oh, this is our one vital want, as a church, to-day. We want a more fervent and all consuming and all-controlling love for Christ. We want more love for perishing souls. Were this ours, did this pure flame of Christian love thus burn as it should upon the altar of our hearts, there would be no such reluctant giving of our wealth as there now is. Our love for Christ would consume our sinful love of gold. Our riches would then be laid, in thousands of dollars, at the feet of Jesus. Our silver and gold would then all be consecrated to Him and cheerfully used for His glory. The treasuries of the church would then overflow with gifts. And instead of our present impotence and feebleness of activity, because of our lack of means, the means would then soon be abundant, the church would then be clothed with new aggressive power, and millions would then soon be gathered into the kingdom of Christ. “The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir-tree, the pine-tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious. The sons also of them that afflicted thee shall come bending unto thee: all they that despised thee shall bow themselves down at the soles of thy feet; and they shall call thee, The city of the Lord, The Zion of the Holy One of Israel.” (Isaiah 60: 13-14.) Pray then, ye that have power with God, to baptize our Lutheran church of this land everywhere with a new baptism of this grace of a supreme Christian love; a love that will melt off these chains that bind our souls down as slaves to our gold and will lead us to lay our wealth with ourselves upon the altar for Christ.

Thus consecrating our property to the Lord, He also will richly, as He has promised, bless us in return. He will do so in things spiritual. Our churches almost everywhere are mourning over a spiritual deadness which has settled down upon them. The word preached lacks power. The youth of the church are swept away by the waves of temptation surrounding them. Few are asking after the way of salvation. The love of many has waxed cold. Revivals of pure religion are rare. God appears to have withdrawn himself from us. And the lamentation of Isaiah goes up to-day from many a discouraged pastor’s heart, “Lord who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed.” And is there not a cause for all this? Are we not possibly by this sin of illiberality grieving away God’s Spirit from among us? Are we not possibly repeating the crime of His ancient people in the days of Malachi? “Will a man rob God? Yet ye have robbed me. But ye say, Wherein have we robbed thee? In tithes and offerings. Ye are cursed with a curse: for ye have robbed me, even this whole nation.”—(Mal. 3; 8-9.) And even in things temporal we shall not be the losers by giving liberally of our means towards the cause of Christ. For it is He who has said: “The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.” (Proverbs 11: 25.) “Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the first fruits of all thine increase, so shall thy barns be filled with plenty and thy presses shall burst out with new wine.” (Prov. 3: 9-9-10.) “Give, and it shall be given unto you, good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over, shall men give unto your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.” (Luke 6:38.) “But this I say, He which soweth sparingly, shall reap also sparingly; and which he soweth bountifully shall also reap bountifully. (2 Cor. 9:6.)

Oh, Thou Divine Master! Help us to believe these Thy promises. Give us grace to trust this Thy word. And aid us all henceforth, as Thou dost command, to bring the tithes (the tenths) into Thy storehouse, and prove Thee, and experience the truthfulness of declaration, that thou wilt open the windows of heaven and pour out upon us such a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it? Amen!

 


Endnotes

1. A gentleman called upon a wealthy friend for a contribution. “Yes, I must give you my mite,” said the rich man. “You mean the widow’s mite I suppose,” replied the other. “To be sure I do.” The gentleman continued: “I will be satisfied with half as much as she gave. Now how much are you worth?” “Seventy thousand dollars,” he answered. “Give me, then, a check for thirty-five thousand: that will be just half as much as the widow gave, for she gave all she had.” That was a new idea to the wealthy merchant, so he contributed liberally.

2. Lutheran and Missionary, August 30, 1877.

3. The People of Israel (Exodus 36:5;) Princes of Israel (Num. 7:2-3;) Boaz (Ruth 2: 8-17;) David (2 Sam. 9:7-10;) Barzillai and others (2 Sam. 17: 27-28;) Araunah (2 Sam. 24:22;) Shunamite (2 Kings 4: 8-10;) Judah (2 Chron. 24: 10-11;) Nehemiah (Neh. 7: 70;) Jews (Neh. 7: 71-72;) Job (Job 29: 15-16;) Joanna and others (Luke 8: 3;) Zaccheus (Luke 19: 8); Primitive Christians (Acts 2: 45;) Barnabas (Acts 4: 36-37;) Dorcas (Acts 9: 36;) Cornelius (Acts 10: 2;) Church of Antioch (Acts 11: 29-30;) Lydia (Acts 16: 15;) Paul (Acts 20:34;) Stephana and others (I Cor. 16: 17;) Poor Widow (Mark 12: 42-44;) Churches of Macedonia (2 Cor. 8: 1-5.)—(Bates’ Cyclopedia p. 61.)

Sermon – Eulogy – 1854


Cyrus Augustus Bartol (1813-1900) graduated from Harvard divinity school in 1835. He was a co-pastor with Charles Lowell at the West Church in Boston in 1837 and became the sole pastor of that church in 1861.


sermon-eulogy-1854

THE

Relation of the Medical Profession to the Ministry:

A

DISCOURSE

PREACHED IN THE WEST CHURCH,

ON OCCASION OF THE DEATH OF

DR. GEORGE C. SHATTUCK.

BY C. A. BARTOL.

 

DISCOURSE.

Luke IX. 2: “AND HE SENT THEM TO PREACH THE KINGDOM OF GOD, AND TO HEAL THE SICK.”

Such was the commission which the great Physician of the human body and soul gave to his twelve disciples, when he clothed them with their office of carrying on his work in the world. In prophetic metaphor, the older revelation, too, had symbolized this very likeness of the mortal frame to the immortal spirit in their common exposure to disease, when it inquired if there were no balm in Gilead, and no physician there, to recover the health of the daughter of God’s people. Nay, the pagan religion itself foreshadowed the same thing from the remotest point and faintest beginning of its mythology, owning the healing art for a sacred function. The first that practiced it, to the heathen mind was a god and the child of a god; his immediate descendants, at the same time physicians and priests, lived in the temple, and allowed none to be initiated into the secrets of their knowledge without a solemn oath; while the most famous of the Greek physicians, who founded a school and was the earliest to raise medicine to the dignity of a science, was reputed to stand in the line of the same divine descent. You know, moreover, how intimately medicine and religion have been connected by the rudest savage tribes of our own day, as well as by the most civilized races of antiquity. But, to indicate for the pulpit my theme to-day of the medical profession in its relation to the ministry,—which you will allow me to treat in the plainest and most familiar manner,—it is enough to know, that a being before whom all the deities of classic story grow pale and fade away, in his own life and in his charge to his apostles, associated the ills of the flesh with those of the mind for the merciful remedies of his gospel.

There is something very touching in his selecting, for the particular proof of his own heavenly authority, this gracious work of relief and cure to the suffering human frame; restoring from fever and palsy and epilepsy and insanity, from blindness, deafness, dumbness, death. Ah! A cordial truth did his beneficent deeds express, that he came to be for ever the friend of the human body as well as soul, redeeming them both from anguish and corruption, from the sin that runs over into the dying part, and the sickness that penetrates to the undying: for he saw, as a superficial philosophy does not, the companionship between these two natures, so intimate no thought can divide and bound their territories, and so he took the whole man for his love and tenderness; and when the age of outward miracles ceased, and the Christian believer, as such, could no longer wondrously bring back lost health to the sick man, they who religiously devoted themselves to the study and exercise of the art of healing, in worship of the Divinity that made them, and in love of their fellow-creatures, in a business essentially partaking as much as any other of piety and humanity, in some sense in this respect succeeded to the apostles and to the great Lord and Master of us all.

One of the most interesting aspects of this general statement is the friendly relation that should subsist between the professors of medicine and the ministry. Surely they should be friends. Jesus Christ has formed the bond of their amity. He is in his life their common parent. They meet in his spirit. They trace back all that is benign and holy in their several offices and highest purposes to his temper and his acts. Jealousy between them is nothing less than an affront to him who, through all Galilee, taught in the synagogues, and healed the diseases of the people; and any mutual discord, from whatever cause arising, is a quarrel in the very body of the Son of God, and as though those messengers of his, when they went out through all Judea, bearing in one hand soundness for the flesh, and in the other comfort and salvation for the heart of man, had fallen out by the way. Distrust, alienation, divorce, between these professions, so long wedded, and ever in the daily round following in each other’s track, would indeed be not according to history, or according to Christianity, or according to the best hopes and auguries of the future welfare, private or public, of mankind. Therefore let us rejoice in the wide and substantial harmony that has ever prevailed in these two classes. The minister who refers to this topic, truly should not only rejoice, but give thanks, because of a peculiar generosity of the physician’s gratuitous service to his calling, a matter of less pecuniary than moral meaning. The minister, on his part, however, should at least pay with his gratitude his respect to the skill and science of the physician, honoring his vocation, and not lightly giving, as I see it said he sometimes does, the most precious, though commonly accounted the cheapest, thing a man can give, his name and recommendation to every presumption of ignorance and charlatan’s elixir, by whose author or vender he may be entreated. It is not the less but the more necessary to say this, because, in these times of the broader diffusion of light and a growing individual independence, the once marked enclosures and high fences of all the professions are somewhat invaded; men without title or preparation choosing to argue their own case, to hold forth their own revelations, and be their own doctors. With the awakening of thought and the spread of knowledge has come the ascertainment of our ignorance; no claims, private or professional, pass as they once did; and no occupation can stand any more on the ground of mere caste, of a strange tongue or a black letter, but only on the actual benefit it can yield to human beings, in mind, body, or estate.

Yet, in this shock to confidence and loss of reverence, accruing on the universal assertion of intellectual freedom, on the reign, too, of empiric observation, and the custom here in all things of our proverbial and characteristic American haste, there is danger that men will desert the truly wise, who have patiently and expensively qualified themselves for their instruction, defence, or restoration, and foolishly rely on their own imprudence, or the shallow boasts of those who have more at heart their own gain and interest, than any benefit to their kind. To this particular disadvantage, probably no one of the professions is so grossly exposed as the medical. For, while the severe preparation required for the law may reduce the number there of mere pretenders, and while the facts and themes of religion are for the most part matters of sober, scholarly investigation,—vulgar criticism, popular and rudely practical doubt, roused in part very possibly by many contrariant doctrines, seems to have fixed on the medical profession for its especial prey or chosen quarry to pursue; so that we ought not to be surprised were its members sometimes worried and vexed in this chase of hungry questioning and skepticism, sharpened by the lively concern everybody has in an affair so near to him as his own health, especially if this running after them be shared in or cheered on by any whose social position, reputation for learning, or personal hold on the affections of others, invests them with power to hinder or further any sentiment or cause.

It should, however, be some antidote to any irritation hence, that every one of the professions, in this curious and prying age, in some way, coarser or more refined, partakes in this trial of secret insinuations or open assaults. In the wisdom of God, no less than in the folly of man, it may be best for them that they should; for the miserable jeers that charge the lawyer with cunning and selfish appropriations of the sum in dispute, the minister as a dumb dog or covert infidel, and the doctor as at work to physic his patient into the grave, may but combine with candid or subtle investigations of the basis of each several vocation to impart a more finished quality, a nobler and disinterested stamp, to every worthy member of them all. Nay, the doubtful and deliberative tone thus infused into the habit of their minds, leading them to consider well before they act or speak, to indulge or enlighten all honest unbelief in others, and to lay aside whatever might be arrogant or overweening in themselves, will, in their simple modesty, and frank confession of how little as well as how much they know, assuming no oracular airs, but, for the ancient look of mysterious consequence or magical power, putting the benign aspect of depending on true science and a higher strength to secure a humane end, make them, with more accomplished control of their art, greater benefactors to their kind. Accordingly, I believe that justice was never more sure, or health safer, or morality and religion better cared for, than in their modern hands. You will not hint a worldly motive for this declaration. The man who basely attacks his own profession, and rends the cloth he wears, is as likely to have a worldly or ambitious aim, as he that respects his guild or calling; for well said old Samuel Johnson, that he who rails at established authority in any thing shall never want an audience; and an audience is what some seem most of all to crave! But, at whatever former period any of the professions may have been exalted in a more awful or formal respect, it may be doubted whether there was ever more earnestness or vitality, than may not seldom now be seen, in their exercise of every one of them.

The provinces of the minister and the physician, which I am now particularly considering, lie so near to each other, that there doubtless is in their relations a peculiar delicacy. They must be in fellowship, or else in some degree of envy, if not collision; for wholly separate they cannot be, nor should be. Indeed, both the human mind and body are, in their disordered states, so brought under the inspection alike of the messengers of health and of salvation, or spiritual health; the affections of the inner and outer part of human nature so run into, and are often well-nigh confounded with, one another; temperament is so close to temper, habit of body so linked with habit of mind, phlegm is such a name for sloth, and a sanguine or nervous frame such a neighbor to heat and irritability; there is so much gloom or brightness in the digestion; so much kindness in the circulations of the heart, or wrath in the flow of the bile; the vapors that rise or the beams that shine in one region of our marvelous soul or structure so soon overspread the other; a permanently morbid mood of mind, as one has said, so invariably indicates physical disorder; in fine, the soul owes so much to the body, as its organ, dwelling, school, and means of discipline, and the body so much to the soul in every good disposition and holier person; and virtue or vice, soundness or disease, wherever existing, seems so to take them both for a common abode; religion itself is sometimes such a medicine, and medicine such a succor and aid to the conscience; the roots and springs of health or sickness are so much in the moral condition, and make us think so often of—-

“the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world, and all our woe,”—

that they who have attempted to divine in its morbid conditions this wondrous double-empire into their distinct rules may occasionally find themselves unwittingly assuming each other’s prerogatives, and trespassing or treading a little on each other’s grounds. Then, as the minister may know very little of medicine, and the physician as little of the springs of the moral life; as one may, in his meditations, have neglected the order of physical facts, and the other, in the ken scent of his observations, been drawn away from contemplating spiritual and invisible realities or principles,—they may interfere with each other, and do each some harm to the incarnate yet spiritual creature let down from Almighty Power into their associated charge. Therefore, it no doubt is best each should in general, as far as many be, occupy his own, avoiding the debatable land.

Yet, what singular opportunities are at times offered to the physician of giving spiritual counsel, peradventure all the more all the more potently because it is not precisely his technical place! How not unfrequently he has availed himself, as in duty bound, of openings for moral influence! Indeed, shall I say, it curiously illustrates the state of the case, that I have known the same worthy physician, who had complained of ministers looking after the bodies of his patients, to feel under the obligation of himself looking after and ministering to their souls! It were, in fact, but ungrateful for me to lose the memory, or omit here the mention, of my own sympathetic meetings, from time to time, with physicians on either side the bed, over the same suffering and the same death. Truly, for one, I am free to confess a sincere and unaffected pleasure, looking not with an evil eye, but with unalloyed admiration, whenever a word has been so fitly spoken, the kingdom of God preached, and the sick healed, as of old, by the same person! On the other hand, if a clergyman, not dealing in panaceas, or endorsing nostrums, or presuming to stand umpire between rival systems of medicine, should state or illustrate any of those great laws of nature that are over us, and in us, and through us all, on which human sanity hangs, and the transgression of a single one of which is sin, the generous and sensible physician, who is really laboring for the sake of God and man, will welcome the good service of his brother, as much as the farmer would the friendly hand, that, from its own concluded avocation, should come over to mow in his field or thresh on his floor. Let there be on either side no selfishness, no officiousness, no needless volunteering; but an inclination each one to do his own stint, lending help beyond only at the divine command in case of necessity; and, though they be borderers, they will, without strife or foray, live in peace.

But my purpose is not so much to adjust the terms of intercourse or mode of personal bearing between the two professions, as, being moved by the decease of an ornament of one and a friend of the other, to pay a warm and honest tribute of my regard to that to which I do not belong. The desk, whose incumbents everywhere are so indebted to that profession, may well offer, more frequently than it has done, such a tribute. At least, I shall not fail of it now according to the poor measure of my ability, partly as a token of regard for one who loved his own profession and mine both so well, and who would value honor done to his vocation, so long and nobly by him discharged and adorned, more than were it done to himself. The physician has in stewardship under God this mortal body in all the ills it incurs, or to which it is heir. It is a great and holy and most responsible trust. It seems to me so grand and tender, that I will not seek any-wise to lessen, but let it, for the moment, fill the whole field of view, that we may learn to do it and its holders more justice. I will not speak now of theology, the princely science, or alone of religion, the paramount concern, though I shall be enjoining a duty truly religious, or of the soul, the only endearing essence,—but of the body, the body which every one of us brought in hither this morning, and must lay down yonder at life’s evening,—our companion for a short stage, a poor, feeble, weary, ailing thing, but all we have to work with in this world, and which therefore, by every pain, dislocation, or infirmity it is rescued from, by every fever it burns, or chill it shakes with, by every fit which convulses it, or consumption in which it pines, pathetically appeals to us to render due credit to them who keep this many[jointed, myriad-chorded instrument, harp of thousand strings, of so universal play and turn, the true history of whose derangements would be almost as various and tragic as that of the passions of the human mind of which it is the earthly organ, in tune and repair.

Yes, honor to those who have probed he hiding-places of its power, laid open its minute cells; traced the course of its flowing streams; caught every one of the trembling nerves by which it acts or feels, communicates or receives; discovered the causes of its throbbings and its tears; snatched it so often from its most fearful jeopardizes; warned it of its many foes; hovered over it in its most critical emergencies; searched out every one of its disturbed conditions, and labored untiringly to redeem it from them all; actually converted many of its troubles, once fatal, into tolerable and curable maladies; in their devoted friendship passed night after night, as well as the lie-long day, with it, and encountered the fiercest storms that ever blew, and travelled over the most broken ways ever traversed in its behalf, never deserting it while breath remained; and, while spending themselves in outward toils, have brooded over all the elements and phenomena of nature, its grosser brother, in their relation to its symptoms, with the profoundest and most persevering study, to detect and gather every kind of material and invent every tool that advancing human knowledge could fit to alleviate its anguish, free it from the occasions of its distress, check the tendencies to disease, remove the obstructions from the way of its living nature, and lengthen out its days for the increase of human happiness and the manifestation of all the faculties and attributes of the immortal mind. They deserve well of their kind. Let them have their meed of praise and renown! Let those who have experienced their favors, if paid yet priceless, bring it! Let the pulpit yield it,—and even my weak words, for their sincerity, pass for the present hour and spot, as one of its humble signs and expressions!

Physicians, so honorably placed as we have seen in the Christian faith, one of them being styled “Luke the beloved,” have, as we well know, a corresponding rank and sphere in society. And here gain we touch on their inevitable union with the ministry. Their function, like the pastoral, is one of the threads that pass through the entire system of human life. It is one of the great bonds of union among men. Appointed to re-unite the sundered or confirm the debilitated bonds of corporeal well-being, to rejoin the dissevered ligaments, close gaping wounds, and set in motion the suspended workings of the animal frame, they are, by the unlimited reach of their benevolent and indispensable offices, also a solder and cement in the edifice of the common-weal. They do much to cure the body politic, as well as the individual constitution. The rich and the poor, the citizen and the stranger, the high and the low, the virtuous and the vile, the physician must take care of them all; and he follows the example of his Great Master in so doing. Like the central iron rod, or the main supporting beam, or the stout traversing keel, with which all is connected and on which all is more or less suspended or built, is the operation of his so strong and busy hand. None has more disagreeable, and it may be thankless, tasks than he. Yet this must be his consolation, that none comes nearer to the human heart, as well as to that which covers that heart, than the good physician who is also a good man. His chaise passing round is the very emblem of a benignant errand; or waiting at the door, an earnest to the passer-by, that good is going on within. “Who, is your physician?” is a question asked perhaps as often as any other, and always asked by friends with lively interest; and “my physician” are words rarely pronounced without a glow of emotion, if not a gush of thanksgiving, accorded to but few earthly benefactors. For all endeavor, patience, and watching, so spoken they are beyond silver and gold a remuneration to that human heart of ours which craves indeed many things beneath the sun, but above all other things hungers and thirsts for a just respect and a holy love. They that visit and heal the sick, that bring the color back into the pallid cheek, that enliven again the heavy lack-luster eye, enable hand and foot and head to resume their wonted avocations in all effort and delight of body or mind, and thus put a new song into the mouth for restoring mercy, certainly do not miss large and perhaps unequalled measures of that consideration which, second to the favor and blessing of Almighty God, is rightfully dearest to the soul. Heaven grant to them both benedictions, the human and the divine, with the grace to fulfill both the commandments,—the first of supreme love with all the heart and strength to God, and the second, which is like to it, of loving one’s neighbor as one’s self. Such the wish and prayer which the voice of this place would breathe towards them, and breathe for them up into the sky! And might I say one word further, from my theme, it would be,—May the prophecy of their friendship with the ministry of religion reach as far forward as its tradition reaches back!

But the physician, who heals and under Providence lengthens out the lies of others, must himself sicken and die. While many, through his instrumentality, remain in the land of the living, he himself may have gone. Those he raised from prostration may visit his couch, and those he rescued from the grave weep grateful at his sepulcher. A vacancy here noticeable by you all makes needless any explanation of the motive of my present subject. A form, familiar for many years, and ever growing more venerable in our eyes, has disappeared. It was the form of one who might well suggest to me the text of this discourse; for no man ever respected more either his own profession or that of the ministry, or more closely associated them together in his mind; so that once, being examined under oath as to some record he might have made, he exclaimed that “by the grace of God the name of a minister was never entered with a charge on his books”! Yet he began his career, as perhaps it is best every young man should, having nothing in particular to trust to but his own talent and fidelity, with what I have heard him in his own phrase style “the healthy stimulus of prospective want;” and, waiting quietly for his first patients, attending slowly to case after case, he laid silently, stone by stone, the foundation of his fame. Every truly noble building rests on just such a basis of deep and secret diligence; and as a great merchant once said that the making of his first thousand dollars cost him more perplexity than all the rest of his immense fortune, so is it with the first achievement, by manifest, undeniable, and unmistakable power, of all professional success. The towering reputation far seen over the land, the wide-spread practice opening through a thousand portals, reposed simply and solidly on the genuine qualities which both assured skilful handling to the sick, and bore off prize after prize in the early competitions of the literary medical essay.

But our friend did more than eminently exemplify the essential traits of a wise and able practitioner. Though he has said to me he was a physician, and nothing but a physician,—while it is utterly superfluous for me to bring the fact of his professional superiority to your notice,—he was consulted on other matters beside the hazards and extremities of mortal life. Extraordinarily distinguished for insight into the soul as well as body, joining, in fact, the physical and the spiritual, that are brought into such juxtaposition in our text; reading character as he did health or disease; leaping through obstructions to his point, with an electric spark of genius that was in him; clothing his conclusions sometimes with a poetic color, and sometimes with the garb of a quaint phraseology; employing now a pithy proverb, and now a cautious and tender circumlocution, to utter what could scarce have been otherwise conveyed, in a method of conversation, which, in its straight lines or through all its windings, I never found otherwise than very instructive,—an intuitive sagacity and perfect originality marked all his sayings and doings. He could never be confounded with any other man. Borrowing neither ideas nor expressions, he was always himself. Yet there was nothing cynical or recluse or egotistical about him. I never heard him boast himself or despise another. He had a large and warm heart, with room in it for many persons and all humanity. Though he was so peculiar, much of his heart was the common heart, as the most marked and lofty mountains have in them most of the common earth. While not a few are absorbed in some single relation, he observed and acted well in the multitude of his relations to his fellow-men. He was remarkable for this broad look and observance of all the interests, material or moral, mechanical or spiritual, of the world, and was equally at home in a question of finance or an enterprise for religion; actually, in his early life and growing thrift, giving a large part of his property for the building of a church. He had, moreover, this precious singularity, that he never seemed to belong to any one class or little social circle, but to stand well and beneficently related to all. Often have I had occasion to perceive, not only his large and cordial, but very various and wide, hospitality. He fulfilled, as nearly as I remember to have seen it, that remarkable, difficult, and apparently almost uncomprehended precept of our Saviour, in which he tells, when we make a feast, not to call to it our friends and rich neighbors, but the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind; and probably no man in this city could die, who would be remembered by a greater number of those in their necessity touched by his timely beneficence; for he seemed ever to discern the season, as well as to feel the inclination, to do good; his relief of another was less a tax or duty than a self-gratification; while he never forgot a favor he had received, he never allowed any one to feel a load from the favor he conferred. He did not wait to be asked. He did not yield to all solicitations. He preferred generally to give in his own way and of his own motion; and to no one did good deeds offer and suggest themselves more abundantly or opportunely. Before my personal acquaintance began, the first thing I knew of him was his attendance upon a sick fellow-student in Cambridge, coming often, yet refusing to receive any fee. And the next thing I knew of him was his receiving into his house, and then, like the good Samaritan with his message to the host of the inn, commending to a distant professional brother, another friend and fellow-student. It might not please him or those nearest to him, if I should attempt even partially to enumerate his bounties, so ample, to various institutions of learning, for their libraries or chairs of instruction, which in some instances may have come to your hearing; but I have reason to think that his kindness much more frequently flowed in private channels, beheld only by the recipients and the All-seeing.

Being such a hearty and unostentatious philanthropist, it is perhaps unnecessary to say, in addition, that he was a real Christian. But he belonged to no one sect or denomination of Christians. Referring all to God, taking the highest view of the divine dignity of Jesus Christ, hoping to be accepted, saved, reconciled to the Father through the mediation of the Son, he extended his sympathy and hand of fellowship to all the faithful preachers of the gospel. He was truly catholic. You will excuse me, but there must be put into any conscientious report of him, what will indeed appear as but one practical exposition of the general truth of this discourse, his repeated mention of his especial regard for ministers,—“ministers,” he added with emphasis, “not of one name, but of all;” and his deference to the ministerial office is a quality in him, certainly in these days, standing out with some prominence. Indeed, the inclination of his respect might have been embarrassing but for he fraternal and authentic good-will from which it came. His respect ever somewhat veiled his heart, protecting an exquisite sensibility, which all might not notice, and hindered him from professing the entire warmth of personal affection he felt. But a reverence for the Most High was in him wholly distinct from all other principles. His will towards men was strong. But he seemed to have no will towards God. His will vanished before the Supreme; and he would have none beside. As a physician, he looked not to his medicines alone, but to God, for success, and prayed before he prescribed.

So it was with him, with ever-increasing interest, to the last. “Pray with me” was commonly his first salutation as I entered his sick chamber. “I want your prayers: they are a great comfort and consolation.” “Pray not for my recovery.” “I am going to God.” “I wish in your prayer to go as a sinner.” “I humbly thank you” was in the pressure of his hand, as much as in the articulate motion of his lips, when the express act of devotion was over. “Next to my God, I want to be near to my minister,” referring, of course, not to the individual, but, as was his wont, the office. And, at the last, having spoken his love to those most closely related to him, just before he went, “Time, Eternity, Eternity, Eternity,” were his expiring words; knowing, as he retained possession of his mind, that he was just stepping over that mysterious causeway, hid from mortal eyes, the sight of which no fleshly vision could bear, which separates one from the other.

I need not say, for the information of any in this society, that, being thus devout, he was a willing and open-handed supporter of religious institutions. To the utmost extent of his strength and opportunity, he was a constant, as he was a happy, worshipper in this house. He was an humble, penitent, affectionate confessor of his Lord at this communion-table, from which he had been long restrained by diffidence; but, in the last year of his life, was ready joyfully to bear witness, through the emblems of the broken body and flowing blood of the Saviour, that the confidence which, whether coming or staying away, we cannot feel in ourselves, we may feel in him and in God. The square and fountain in front of this church; the marble baptismal font before this altar, much of whose expense it was one of his dying bequests should be paid by his kindred survivors, at the same time declaring his delight in its beauty, thus associating it for ever with his departure; the repair and enlargement of the room for the Sunday-school, to which he chiefly contributed, affirming to me more than once how important he considered the religious instruction of the youth among us; the libraries for the school and the parish, which he increased with special donations,—are but examples selected from the numerous fruits and demonstrations of his Christian and reverential charity. Ah! But for faith and encouragement to emulation of such good deeds, it were a sorry day for any religious body when such a benefactor dies!

In thus reporting, as truly and exactly as I am able, the positive excellencies of our friend, I intend not, as is the custom in some eulogies, to imply that they were all; when the value of any praise of mortals lies in the definite truth that leaves room for fair exceptions, while the fulsome commendation that does not discriminate is merely worthless, signifying nothing. It would be a poor compliment to one, who perhaps was never guilty of an insincerity in his life, to intimate that he had no failings, or to present any panegyric of perfection for his character; to declare that this good man and true-hearted Christian had but one immaculate side, or moral features only of absolute beauty, which would so contradict his own word and consciousness. And were I to say that his fine natural ardor went not to the least excess; that his energetic purpose in no instance was imperious; that, bent upon action, and on speedily executing his good plans, he never became impatient of debate, or did any injustice to others’ thoughts, or exercised mastery over others’ designs; or that, prospered greatly as he was in his fortunes, it was never requisite for him to struggle against the world’s getting undue possession of his mind; that he was such a paragon, he never spoke harshly or acted hastily; in short, that no defects qualified and mingled with the rare and unsurpassed nobilities of his soul; and that even unawares he favored nothing wrong, nor opposed and put down any thing right,—I should insult his honesty, and belie my own conscience, and might do despite to that spirit of grace and truth, which, above the highest human attainments, still holds the unreached standard of moral goodness and infinite glory. But, if he could set his face as flint, oh! He could pour out his heart like water; the rock of rugged strength welling with currents copious and pure, for he was a pure-hearted man; and never was a gentler or more pathetic soul, a breast quicker to throb, or an eye more moist, at any grand or affecting spectacle or tale; if he was not caressing, neither was he self-indulgent; and if his passion ever overstepped the bounds of equity, he was prompt to feel remorse, humility, and grief, as more than once I have myself had occasion to note; while his character was continually softening, improving, ripening, as he went on,—ripe, fully ripe, indeed, at last!

But the question, in regard to any among mortals, is not whether he is faultless, none that breathe or ever did breathe being such; but, after the faults are subtracted, the question is, what mass, what weight, what height of worth, is left behind. Some seem to have neither grievous faults nor shining virtues; and a man may be apparently well-nigh blameless, without being very good, as a pure ore of iron or copper is not so precious as the mineral gold, though with earth and stone intermixed. My friend always seemed to me to be the mineral gold. Nor do I know where, in any individual, to look for a larger amount of the sterling treasure. Ah, while I speak of him, I can hardly imagine him away! A vision, he rises in my path, invites my gaze, greets me at the door, sits there in the sanctuary! The intensity of this abiding presence that will not down, of this reality that will not go, is the measure of force that has been in a man. And he surely was one of the powers among us that cannot cease even here below.

It is not the habit of this place to celebrate the merits of any human being. Nor might I have done it now, save to unfold with livelier interest, through a solemn dispensation of Providence, a subject of universal concern. The characters of all human beings sink before that Holy Majesty which fills this place, and which we here assemble to adore. But God is glorified not only by direct praise and ascending prayer. He is glorified, too, in his faithful servants, imperfect men though they be. All the beauty and splendor of the earth and heavens cannot compass so fair or sublime a pitch of his glory as is displayed in the loyal and loving souls of his children. We do not honor him by hiding out of sight, or passing over in silence, aught just or worthy in his intelligent creatures; but every light of virtue, taken from under the bushel of privacy to shine out of the candlestick of a true confession before men, illuminates also, to their view, the spotless attributes of the Creator. To the Creator, as its source, we ascribe all that is worthy and good. We thank him for the fruit of the earth. We thank him for the brightness of the sun. We thank him for the better beams of knowledge, and the nobler springing from every germ and disclosure of his sacred truth. We thank him, above all, for that manifestation of his wisdom and love which we discern in his obedient offspring, and which was incarnate in his beloved Son.

Daniel Webster’s Letter to the American Bible Society

Daniel Webster, a second generation Founding Father, was extremely expressive about his faith. The Daniel Webster letter below is written about the “national” (American) Bible Society and a request it received to send Bibles to South America.


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The national Bible Society has lately been called upon by the new Republic of South America to send them the Scriptures.

She is desirous of complying with this request, and although the claims, of our own destitute countrymen are urgent, and must be attended to, yet she is anxious to aid, also, at this critical period of her existence, our sister Republic. She appeals therefore, to our wealthy and benevolent citizens for their patronage in this noble work.

Danl. Webster

Lew Wallace

Here is a handwritten document by Gen. Lewis Wallace, Union General in the Civil War, Governor of New Mexico and U.S. minister to the Ottoman Empire. It consists of a portion of his novel, Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ.


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     The people arose, and leaped upon the benches, and shouted and screamed.  Those who looked that way caught glimpses of Messala, now under the trampling of the fours, now under the abandoned cars.  He was still; they though him dead; but far the greater number followed Ben-Hur in his career.  They had not seen the cunning touch of the reins by which, turning a little to the left, he caught Messala’s wheel with the iron-shod point of his axle, and crushed it; but they had seen the transformation of the man, and themselves felt the heat and glow of his spirit, the heroic resolution, the maddening energy of action with which, by look, word, and gesture, he so suddenly inspired his Arabs.  And such running!  It was rather the long leaping of lions in harness; but for the lumbering chariot, it seemed the four were flying.  When the Byzantine and Corinthian were half-way down the course, Ben-Hur turned the first goal.
And the race was Won!

Lew. Wallace.